The Wild Path Rests on Azure Clouds

Today marks the most absurd day in the ten-thousand-year history of the Qingyun Immortal Sect. The Enforcement Elder, who commands half the sect's authority and possesses unfathomable cultivation, personally presides over the square from the high platform, his expression frozen in a chilling severity. His broad Daoist robes sway gently in the breeze, while the spiritual pressure radiating from him suppresses every disciple present until they scarcely dare to breathe. At the very center of the square stands the youth Guo Lilu, utterly at ease in his place. A faded, plain-woven Daoist robe hangs loosely on his frame, and his long hair is carelessly bound with a simple wooden hairpin—bearing not the slightest trace of the dignified bearing expected of the sect's holy son.