Returned to Yuanzong, to the front hall.
The main hall was built of bluestone, simple and ancient, lacking the golden splendor of the Tianji Hall, nor the mysterious depth of the Demon Emperor Palace.
The pillars in the hall are engraved with the achievements of the Guiyuan Sect’s successive patriarchs, and each relief tells the story of the sect’s history.
Inside the hall stood a tall statue of the Patriarch, carved from fine warm jade, lifelike and lifelike, with a gentle smile in its eyes.
That was the founder of the Daoist sect, the ancient great being who comprehended the Great Luo Golden Classic and founded the Taoist lineage, having long ascended to a higher realm.
Li Qingyun was sitting on a meditation cushion, facing the statue of the Patriarch, but he couldn’t calm his mind.
His brows were tightly furrowed, his eyelids twitched slightly, and it felt as if a huge stone was pressing down on his heart—so heavy he could barely breathe.
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