By evening, Yunlan Mountain was shrouded in a light mist.
This stronghold of the Chen Clan, though not as grand as the main peak of the Daoist Sect, exuded warmth everywhere!
In the courtyard, the spirit plants lovingly cultivated by the clan's younger generations were planted. Along the stone paths, materials leftover from alchemy and artifact refining were scattered, with a faint aroma of elixirs and spiritual qi lingering in the air.
Inside the family's main hall, the lights were bright, and the long table crafted from thousand-year nanmu wood was smooth as a mirror, reflecting the figures of everyone present in the hall.
Chen Sheng and Chen Xihua sat together at the head seat.
Chen Sheng wore his usual white daoist robe, his face adorned with a gentle smile.
Chen Xihua, on the other hand, donned his blue sword robe, the sword intent around him compressed to the extreme, yet still unable to conceal the dignity of a Nascent Soul Cultivator.
