Shangyang's inner scene.
As Jiang Ning once again closed his eyes, the sound of the sword hum in his ears gradually faded away until it completely disappeared.
His heart returned to serenity.
He didn't know how much time had passed when whispers of discussions began to surface around him.
Jiang Ning opened his eyes, only to see those meditating around him all with an immortal aura, the men handsome and graceful, the women pure and ethereal.
Every line, every contour seemed meticulously carved.
"Junior brother seems a bit unfamiliar!" A graceful woman next to him said to Jiang Ning.
The woman's hair, adorned only with a simple wooden hairpin, was tied up, her robes a plain white with no excessive decoration, yet she exuded the air of a celestial being.
"Senior sister is perceptive; indeed, it's my first time here," Jiang Ning replied.
"No wonder you seem unfamiliar!" The woman nodded slightly.
Then she asked, "How many years has junior brother been cultivating?"
