On a sheer cliff shrouded in boundless fog, the Red-clothed Woman, now dressed in a black palace gown over her fair skin and beautiful features, was sitting cross-legged in cultivation, the enveloping mist around her manifesting strange traces of flow, flickering in and out of the void.
The mountain mist suddenly surged and heaved. The Red-clothed Woman flicked her wide sleeve, and a ball of white light blossomed before her, rapidly spreading into a mirror image no larger than a washbasin.
There was a person in the mirror image—her trusted subordinate Dao Zhen—who bowed slightly to her within the image. His voice came out from the mirror as well, "My Lady."
The Red-clothed Woman's lips moved slightly. "What is it?"
