In the quiet courtyard of Sanqing Mountain, Huayang and Yunmiao hurried inside.
They clasped their hands in respect to the snoring white fox at the entrance, then stepped back three steps, bowing as they called out, "Great Ancestor, Huayang seeks an audience."
"Come in," a familiar yet slightly distant voice beckoned from within the house.
They pushed the door open to find a serene and lovely female Daoist seated with silver needles in hand, stitching through a piece of white silk, as if crafting a Daoist robe.
She was Qingtian, the acknowledged strongest being across the realms.
Her fame reached beyond the nine heavens, penetrating even the depths of the underworld.
The living and the deceased alike trembled at her name, embodying eight hundred years of unwavering strength.
Qingtian’s might lay in the fact that no one could rival her power.
Her splendor was built upon an era of tranquility for humankind, having witnessed three great reunifications of the world in her time.
She educated the masses, enlightened the people, and widely spread the teachings of the Dao.
Her merits were countless, far too numerous to be recorded in any historical text.
However, she also bore a blade of judgment hovering over the heads of all powerful beings.