One day later, above a secluded ocean, a remarkably elegant Daoist monk sat cross-legged on the sea's surface, quietly meditating, as if waiting for something.
Before long, a bolt of lightning arrived in an instant, landing on the sea's surface.
As the lightning dispersed, it revealed a woman in a black robe, her face obscured.
"Daoist brother, you are indeed a man of your word. Qingqing is a step late, please forgive me."
The woman's voice was somewhat hoarse, as if very tired, and she bowed to the Daoist.
"No matter, I have just arrived myself!"
Gu Yuan stood up and waved his hand toward the person before him, though his gaze instinctively glanced at the face hidden under the black robe.
The fleeting glimpse a day earlier was still vivid in Gu Yuan's mind.
