Just then, a thick, mysterious fog slowly spread across the stage.
The noisy hall fell silent.
From within the mist, a graceful silhouette appeared.
A lady sat calmly at the center of the stage, a zither resting across her lap.
Her posture was elegant, her movements unhurried, as though the world itself had slowed to match her rhythm.
She was beautiful but not in a flamboyant way.
There was a detached serenity about her, an air of someone who had already seen prosperity, ruin, and found them all wanting.
Her presence alone stilled the crowd.
She was Fairy Luo.
Luo Xianyin.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Through the fog, her gaze swept across the hall over the cultivators and admirers who had waited a year for this moment.
Then—
Her eyes paused.
Ever so slightly.
She frowned and the fog thickened.
She then closed her eyes and opened them again.
And looked directly toward a particular seat in the audience.
