Outside the teahouse, the night rain was continuous. The wet ground reflected the streetlights, and the illusory scenes of the Immortal Mountain's auspicious clouds floated above distant tall buildings. Spirit cranes fluttered gracefully between the neon lights and rain clouds, while ornate flower boats slowly glided between the buildings. Silk and bamboo music drifted through the rain, portraying the cityscape from a distant Alien Planet, separated by a misty screen at the edge of the rain shelter, appearing both tangible and remote.
The black-clothed Cultivator held a cup of hot tea, not noticing that the tea had sat on the table for a long time without cooling at all. He was recalling and contemplating in a daze, answering one question after another posed by True Man Yuanling.
