The old man's voice drifted away, and Qi WuHuo looked up, puzzled. "Never?"
The old man let out a laugh, then teased him:
"WuHuo's talent and understanding are indeed impressive, and your instincts are keen. You always sense when something is off."
"By that measure, you could have made quite a name for yourself in Buddhism."
"You'd just have to shave your head."
Seeing Qi WuHuo's bewildered expression, the old man chuckled and let the joke drop. After a brief pause, he said gently, "By 'never,' I mean that, to him, he never met me. He wouldn't remember the fate that brought me to teach him in those years, nor would he remember meeting you today. His cultivation began with nothing more than a fortuitous encounter."
"There's no need to dwell on it. The bond was forged, and that is a fact."
"It's just that..."
"He was no longer my disciple, from beginning to end."
"Fate begins and fate ends. It was always meant to be so."
The old man spoke with composure, as though discussing something perfectly ordinary. Then he smiled and asked the boy, who was slowly eating his candied hawthorn, "Come to think of it, WuHuo, do you think he was wrong?"
Qi WuHuo looked back at the Passage Hall, unsure how to answer. After a long while, he said, "This disciple doesn't think he was wrong."
"We can't say he was wrong just because he didn't leave with you, Teacher."
The old man seemed pleased. He smiled and nodded. "You're right."
"Truthfully, he did nothing wrong. He passed down his teachings and lineage, letting the path he pursued blossom throughout the mortal world. And in doing so, he never resorted to crooked methods. Step by step, unhurried and composed, he fulfilled the vision he'd held as