The moon hangs high in the vast expanse of the night sky, a lone beacon amidst a sea of swirling clouds. Its pale glow bathes the land in silver, illuminating the mist that weaves through the dense forest like a living thing. The air is thick with the scent of jasmine, carried by a whispering breeze that stirs the treetops and sends ripples across the stillness. Crickets sing their haunting lullabies, their rhythmic chorus blending with the distant hoot of an owl.

Amidst the shifting shadows, a lone figure stands upon a moss-covered stone. His robes, pure as fresh-fallen snow, billow with ethereal grace, the embroidered dragons twisting through storm-laden clouds appearing almost alive as the silver thread glimmers. His hair, cascading like liquid starlight, frames his sharp features with effortless elegance. His presence is an enigma - still as a statue, yet brimming with quiet energy, as if the world holds its breath around him.

Liang Xuan does not move, nor does he need to. His silver eyes, luminous and piercing, gaze beyond the trees, beyond the veil of mist, as if seeing something no mortal could perceive. There is a weight to his silence, a presence that commands attention without force. He is neither here nor elsewhere, neither wholly of this world nor fully apart from it.

A flutter of wings breaks the quiet, and a lone white bird descends from the darkness above. With delicate precision, it lands upon his outstretched hand, its small head tilting as if to whisper secrets only he can understand. He does not startle, nor does he react beyond the faintest flicker of acknowledgment in his gaze. His fingers, long and graceful, move with deliberate gentleness, stroking the soft feathers of the creature as though comforting an old companion.

"Tell me," he says, his voice smooth as silk, laced with the faintest hint of something ancient "What is it that you seek in a place such as this?"