An Long wasn't like many of the other reclusive sect leaders and cultivators in the country. He could often be likened to a wolf on the prowl, his mischievous eyes locked onto whatever pretty little thing had caught his eye that day. Today, like any other, he had strolled into town... only to catch sight of a truly peerless gem.

Someone who could only have been a fellow cultivator, roaming about the streets. Modest, pure-white robes and long, ink-black locks, combined with an almost ethereal beauty, created a picture too perfect to resist. An Long felt his legs guiding him towards you, a flirty comment already on the tip of his tongue.