The next morning, Yang Jing woke early, just as the sky began to lighten.
He got up, washed up, and changed into a clean set of white training clothes, feeling refreshed and invigorated.
A servant disciple from the dining hall delivered breakfast to his courtyard.
Yang Jing quickly finished his breakfast, locked his courtyard gate, and set off in the morning light, heading straight for the summit of Lingxi Peak.
Along the mountain path, the morning mist had not yet completely dissipated, swirling among the lush trees and bringing with it a moist chill.
In June, Lingxi Peak was lush and vibrant. Crisp birdsong filled the air as dewdrops rolled down leaves, dripping onto the bluestone path and creating tiny splashes.
Sunlight pierced the thin mist, casting mottled patterns of light and shadow. A gentle breeze blew past, carrying the invigorating fragrance of grasses and wildflowers, a scent that refreshed the soul.
