In Ning City, cooking smoke mingles with Daoist incense.
The morning mist has not cleared, yet disciples of the Supreme Dao, dressed in gray Daoist robes, can be seen everywhere in the streets and alleys.
Some hold wooden placards and preach doctrines along the street; some lean over tables, carefully registering households...
An orderly scene, yet full of vitality.
White Guangming stands at the temporary registration point at the city gate, his wolf-hair brush rises and falls continuously, the ink steady, and the list of people on the paper neatly organized.
"Brother Bai, check this household count again, let's not make any mistakes."
The young Daoist disciple beside him holds a thick register of households, his tone full of respect.
White Guangming lifts his head with a smile, gently tapping the paper:
