The northern geese fly south, and the autumn wind sweeps the fallen leaves.
A sycamore tree gently sways, dropping a yellow-edged withered leaf.
Two white jade fingers gently pinch it, the leaf splits from the center to the sides and continues to fall, the crack is neat and flawless.
Below is a rippling lake, the leaf falls onto the lake and instantly turns to powder, dissipating to nothing.
"Senior brother's martial arts have advanced again."
A soft voice rings out, a graceful figure approaches, draping a cloak over the white-clad man standing by the lake.
The man slowly turns, looks at the woman behind him, and gently shakes his head, "No, fallen leaves are fragile, how can that be considered advancement."
"Senior brother, you..."
The woman hesitates to speak.
Duanmu Nan looks at his junior sister's nervous demeanor and softly laughs.
"Why, worried about that one in the palace?"
