At Qi Yun Zen Temple, the moonlight flowed like water.
After the Dharma Assembly ended, Qi Yun politely declined invitations from several Arhats to continue their spirited discussions, returning alone to his secluded residence on the mountainside.
The courtyard was still, ancient pines sifting moonlight that looked like broken silver onto the ground.
In the distance, the temples on the higher reaches of Spirit Mountain remained shrouded in a hazy golden glow. The faint sound of Brahma Chanting, unceasing day or night, drifted on the wind.
Instead of entering his chambers, Qi Yun sat cross-legged on the familiar Cyan Jade Platform in the courtyard.
Deep within his Purple Mansion, however, his Daluo Heaven reflected a completely different scene.
