The sunlight, filtering through the gaps in the leaves, shone onto the river, creating a golden phosphorescence.
Emperor Tianhong was still kneeling by the river, his beard touching the ground, knees deep in the mud, his eyes closed, his black hair spilling out; he seemed to merge with the forest, his breath natural.
Thousands of years have passed since Xiao Lan left, and Emperor Tianhong has been kneeling there for over twenty-one thousand years.
Footsteps approached from behind, and a man dressed in black appeared. He was handsome, with his black hair coiled up under a headpiece, a sword and a gourd hanging at his waist; he was like an unsheathed treasure sword, impossible to restrain.
"The legendary foremost pride of the world, Emperor Tianhong, nurtured by the Dao Court to be the Daoist Emperor, yet kneeling here unable to rise; it seems the Supporting Dao Sword Venerable holds you in low regard. Do you have any regrets?"
