Yunshen Hall.
In the Vast Sea Hall, the fragrance of tea wafted through the air, intermingled with a thread of incense smoke. At the head of the hall hung a portrait of a Daoist; the Daoist stood upon Zhongnan Mountain, the sun suspended above his head, an ancient sword carried on his back—none other than the illustrious Chongyang Zhenren.
"Chairman Wu, the reason I invited you here today is to inquire about someone."
Sitting at the seat of honor, a middle-aged man spoke. He dressed in plain robes, exuding an ancient austerity. His hands were fair and delicate, a faint flush coloring his face—the mark of one whose cultivation of inner alchemy had reached its zenith.
"Whom does Daoist Brother wish to inquire about?" Wu Qingnang looked toward Wang Qian'an, his expression betraying nothing.
