Su Mu arrived at the riverbank and looked into the pitch-black waters.
Dong—
The dull sound continued to echo in his ears, sounding very clear.
As he focused his gaze, he saw a black log, moving against the river flow, drifting toward Su Mu.
As it got closer, he noticed a figure standing on the log. In his left hand, he held a round copper gong, continuously striking it with his right hand, creating rhythmic thuds.
With a wave of his hand, Su Mu dispersed the thick fog hovering over the river at night, stopping the large log about twenty meters away from him. Under the dim light, the figure's appearance came into view.
The figure wore a purple Taoist robe, with graying hair, eyes cloudy yet glimmering with light. His face ordinary, just a common old man by appearance.
The moment their eyes met, Su Mu froze on the spot, brows furrowed. He felt a sense of familiarity, as if he had met the old man before, but couldn't recall exactly.
