West Desolate Mountain.
Two figures stood atop the mountain peak.
A vivid red Daoist robe, as bright as blood, swayed in the wind, embroidered with wild cloud patterns in gold thread. Her black hair was casually tied with a silk ribbon, with a few strands falling around her ears, accentuating her fair and translucent face.
A pair of almond-shaped eyes appeared slightly hazy, their ends slightly upturned, exuding a cool yet alluring charm.
She held an ancient-shaped wine gourd in her hand, tied with a red tassel, and took a swig from it.
Amber-colored wine dribbled down her chin, flowed over her long neck, and seeped into her collar, her skin smooth and lustrous like sheep fat jade.
Not far away, an elderly man in a black robe stood with his hands behind his back.
His silver hair was full, and his face solemn, blending into the heavens and earth without leaking a single trace of energy.
