Time flies, years pass like a shuttle.
In the courtyard of the cave residence.
Yang Zhenshan reclined on the lounge chair under the porch, picked up his tea, and took a sip.
Outside the porch, snowflakes fell one by one, accumulating a thick layer on the green stone ground.
The heavy snow covered the world, turning everything into the color of ice and snow.
"The snow seems particularly heavy this year!"
Yang Zhenshan murmured softly as he gazed at the drifting snowflakes.
With the enhancement of his cultivation, he seemed to grow more indifferent to many things, like time, weather, seasons, and so on.
Perhaps these things no longer had a significant impact on him, so he cared less about their changes, making him increasingly insensitive to these transformations.
Amid the swirling snow, Yang Zhenshan's thoughts drifted somewhere unknown until the sound of footsteps on the snow brought him back, and he raised his head.
