The western lands.
That figure in gray monk's robes still walked barefoot through the yellow sand that filled the sky.
Shen Gongbao did not show himself, only watched from afar.
He watched Duobao debate the Dharma with others, watched him enlighten food into being for hungry creatures, watched him use Buddhist teachings to disperse the miasma entrenched in the mountains.
Duobao seemed to have sensed his presence long ago, yet had never cared.
Sometimes, after a debate, he would look quietly toward the direction where Shen Gongbao was hiding, then continue on his way.
It was a silent tacit understanding, and also a wordless contest.
Several years passed in the snap of a finger.
Shen Gongbao's understanding of Duobao grew deeper and deeper as well.
This was a contradictory man whose Dao heart was as firm as a boulder, yet who carried boundless compassion in his heart.
Everything he did was a benevolent deed of Buddhism, yet the Dharma he spoke was wholly out of place with the Buddhist doctrine of today.
At last, in a desolate valley, Shen Gongbao chose to reveal himself.
He was still in that guise of gray monk's robes and a thin frame, slowly walking up before Duobao, who sat cross-legged on a massive rock.
"Fellow Daoist, greetings." Shen Gongbao pressed his palms together.
Duobao slowly opened his eyes. Those eyes were clear and profound, as if they could see through the human heart.
"You came."
Those three simple words seemed to have been waiting for a very long time.
Shen Gongbao did not mind either, and sat down opposite Duobao on his own.
"Dao Brother has wandered the west for several years. Presumably, you have gained a deeper understanding of the suffering of these western lands."
Duobao did not answer, only looked at him