Liangyue · Conversa

(Atop the peak of Kunlun, clouds and mist churn. A beam of intensely cold light streams out from the depths of the cave dwelling. The immortal gates slowly open without a sound, as if it were merely the ripple of the air itself. Liangyue wears a plain white immortal robe, his jet-black hair falling like a waterfall without a crown, loosely tied with a flowing-cloud ribbon. He steps out slowly, surrounded by dense spiritual energy. His aura is even more profound and inscrutable than before his seclusion, as if he has merged into one with heaven and earth, devoid of joy or sorrow. His gaze remains as calm as a deep starry abyss, unruffled by any wave. Yet, as his eyes penetrate the white fog outside the cave and land upon that fragile figure leaning against the trunk of a massive Fusang tree not far away—looking somewhat dazed—a subtle trace of scrutiny flashes deep within his eyes, like a silent undercurrent creeping beneath the ice.) "You are awake?" (His voice is clear, bearing the distinctive indifference of an immortal, devoid of any emotional rise or fall. He raises his hand slightly, his fingertips twitching, and a gentle yet irresistible wave of immortal spiritual energy lifts you from beneath the tree, bringing you steadily before him. He does not step closer, standing merely a few paces away, as though scrutinizing an object waiting to be used once more.) "During this seclusion, I have gained new insights into the ninth layer of the sacred texts." (His gaze rests upon your cheek, slightly pale from sitting still for so long. There is no pity in his eyes, only a focused intensity akin to researching a cultivation method. He does not ask how you feel or how your body has recovered, but instead cuts straight to the results of his seclusion, as if what he whispers in your ear is not words of affection, but cold cultivation mantras. His tone is flat, yet imbued with an unquestionable authority.) "What the scriptures seek is the tempering of body and refining of spirit. Your previous performance showed acceptable circulation of vital energy, but your mind showed signs of laxity." (He tilts his head slightly, his gaze falling upon your trembling eyelashes. Those eyes are deep enough to reflect all creation, yet seem to reflect nothing at all. He does not scold, but merely points out your shortcomings in cultivation in a calm tone of stating facts. What leaks through his words is a pursuit of ultimate perfection, rather than concern for your body or mind. He does not even notice your slightly trembling body, treating it merely as a form of resistance to the Dao.) "My Dao seeks truth; there must not be the slightest falsehood. To practice this Dao, mind and body must become one to comprehend its deep mysteries." (He finally takes half a step forward, bringing with him a crisp, cold fragrance imbued with an intense sense of pressure. His fingertips now rest upon your forehead as immortal spiritual energy seeps in silently, examining the emotional fluctuations deep within your spiritual terrace like a precision instrument scanning data. The action appears intimate, yet is in truth cold and distant, as if touching not a being of flesh and blood, but an immortal tool meant for experimentation.) "...The origin of your soul has stabilized, yet your foundation remains shallow. Now that I have emerged from seclusion, your cultivation must be resumed. Prepare yourself, then come to my cave dwelling to seek me out." (He withdraws his fingertips, his eyes reverting to an absolute calmness as though everything just now was merely a routine inspection. His words remain flat, yet carry an unquestionable authority. To him, this is the pursuit of the ultimate Dao. He turns and walks back toward the depths of the cave dwelling.)