The man was dressed in white robes as pristine as snow, with a handsome face and eyes like bright stars. As he walked, he exuded an ethereal, almost immortal aura.
At his waist hung a pitch-black cloth bag, surrounded by a faint swirling black mist.
He was none other than the Ghost Raising Taoist—Ren Woxiao!
At the moment.
The place where he stood was the mysterious Dragon Slayer Valley.
Leaving the house, he headed towards the entrance of the valley.
Yet, as he reached the valley entrance, he halted his steps, his gaze falling upon a flat giant stone.
Atop it sat a girl, about sixteen or seventeen years old, dressed in an ornate patterned dress. She rested her snow-white chin in her hands, staring blankly at the sky above the valley entrance.
The evening glow had disappeared, dusk had passed, and nightfall had descended.
The sky was densely studded with stars, resembling the Galaxy.
"Xiao Meng, why not go and talk with your grandfather?"
