She finally returned to the building directly opposite the main gate, Qingxu Hall—the main hall that symbolized the public face of Qingxu Temple.
Pushing open the heavy doors, a blast of cold air, a mixture of dust and the lingering scent of sandalwood, rushed over her.
This had once been the most sacred place in Qingxu Temple. Everyone, from the newly initiated outer sect disciples to the lofty Inner Sect and Direct Disciples, had once paid their respects to the founders' bronze statues and memorial tablets here.
But now, those majestic bronze and wooden statues were covered in a thick layer of dust, having long lost their former luster.
The wind howled through the empty hall, echoing her solitary footsteps. THUD, THUD, THUD. Each step felt like she was treading on the bones of her memories.
She remembered the first time she had stood in this very spot.
