O Espelho Imortal Sem Falsidade
Gu Xian já havia atravessado para este mundo de cultivo fantástico e caótico há três anos. Pensando nas experiências desses três anos, Gu Xian não pôde deixar de ter os olhos um pouco vermelhos. Você
Fengguo Province. Lingzhou. Wuwang Mountain.
The mountain air was tranquil and pure, with a small bamboo pavilion perched atop the peak. This was the main hall of the immortal sect known as Wuwang Mountain. From within came the boisterous voice of a young woman.
“Master, why make things so complicated? Just hand me the token of the mountain lord. Don’t worry, I’ll lead Wuwang Mountain to prosperity.”
Inside the bamboo pavilion, an elderly man with snow-white hair and beard looked at the girl before him and sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead.
This elder was the current mountain lord of Wuwang Mountain, Lu Yuan.
He ignored the girl’s words and instead turned to a young man standing beside her—his features sharp and poised.
“Gu Xian, this trip down the mountain is no ordinary matter. Take good care of Senior Sister Liu.”
“Rest assured, Master.”
The master handed each of them a space pouch. “Our mountain isn’t wealthy. Inside are some common immortal artifacts. Don’t disdain them.”
Senior Sister Liu snatched her pouch, grumbling, “Old man, what are you saying?”
Soon after, Gu Xian and Senior Sister Liu returned to their quarters to pack, preparing to set off.
Halfway up the mountain, a few scattered thatched cottages formed the humble residences of Wuwang Mountain’s disciples.
Gu Xian walked back to his own courtyard, his heart stirred with emotion.
Three years had passed since he transmigrated into this strange and wondrous world of cultivation. The thought brought a flicker of moisture to hi