The air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine, a fragrance that always brought a sense of peace to the usually bustling city. Sunlight streamed through the ancient temple's stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the worn stone floor.
A lone figure knelt before the altar, their hands clasped in prayer. It was Lin Mo, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was seeking guidance, a path forward from the turmoil that had recently engulfed his life. The whispers of the wind through the eaves seemed to echo his own unspoken questions.
Suddenly, a soft chime echoed through the temple, a sound that jolted Lin Mo from his reverie. He opened his eyes, his gaze falling upon a small, intricately carved wooden box that had appeared on the altar. It hadn't been there before.
Curiosity overriding caution, Lin Mo reached out and touched the box. It was cool to the touch, and as his fingers brushed against its surface, a faint warmth spread through him. A sense of ancient power emanated from within, a power he couldn't quite comprehend.
With a deep breath, he lifted the lid.
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