To the west of Dragon Abyss Marsh, a waning crescent moon hung high in the sky, the evening breeze brushed gently, and two cultivators dressed in long robes stood atop opposing peaks, raising their cups in a distant toast.
One of them had a face full of stubble, his robe stained with grease, appearing rather slovenly. He held a wine jug in his hand, taking sporadic swigs, yet his gaze was lucid without a hint of drunkenness. He looked at the cold and crystalline water surface, then at the moon's reflection within, which shattered continuously. He let out a melancholic sigh and lamented, "Time flies; twenty-four years have passed in the blink of an eye. It's already time for another sect competition. Junior Brother Luo, I fear I'll have to witness your impressive skills again this time."
