Leaving Xiang Yang and the others aside, vast Mo Mountain stretched boundlessly. Amid the mountains, beneath a patch of verdant shade, a flying spring struck the rocks, chiming crisply like bells, its rushing waters flowing without end, steeping the air in nature's rich breath.
Beside the forest spring, atop a moss-covered boulder as large as a millstone, sat a young man of ancient, unadorned features and an exceedingly strange appearance.
To call his features ancient and unadorned was not quite right. On the contrary, his brows looked carved by blades and his nose like a hanging gallbladder. He was handsome and clear-faced, brimming with the vigor of a dragon.
Yet his earlobes hung huge and heavy like pendants, resembling the Buddha enshrined in a temple—a most mysterious sight. Of course, large earlobes alone would not have been strange, but this man also bore a fleshy crown atop his head, radiant as gold. He possessed a divine air unlike that of any mortal; that was why he seemed so peculiar.
Setting aside the oddity of his appearance, the young man wore a loose, pale-silver kasaya. A broad longsword rested on his back, ceaselessly emanating Sanskrit chants. It lent him something of a wandering martial hero's air. His bearing was extraordinary, and his martial arts were clearly formidable.
At that moment, the strange youth sat cross-legged upon the mossy stone, his hands forming seals. With every breath, he drew in the scattered spiritual energy between heaven and earth. At the same time, his spirit roamed the void, countless thoughts extending like innumerable feelers to probe every inch within ten li of the mossy stone, seeing all with perfect clarity.
After a long while, the youth finished his cultivation and returned to himself, exhaling a long breath of turbid air. When his eyes