"Daoist Haotian, I trust you have been well?" the monk asked with a smile.
Haotian returned the salute with cupped hands. "Fellow Daoist Zhunti, I hope you have been well!"
Zhunti's smile deepened. "This is not a place for conversation. Please follow me, Daoist."
"If Senior Brother Jieyin learns that you have come, he will surely be delighted."
With that, he lightly tapped the withered branch in his hand. Ripples spread through the void before them, revealing a Golden Path.
Haotian followed Zhunti onto it. The scene before his eyes shifted, and in the next instant, they stood before an Ancient Gate.
Though this mountain was not as spiritually elegant and majestic as the immortal mountains of the East, it possessed its own distinct grandeur.
The mountain body was pale gold, with Sanskrit chants faintly winding around it. Though its spiritual energy was sparse, it carried a sense of purity and solemn majesty.
It was Mount Sumeru.
At the gate, Jieyin was already standing quietly in wait.
He still bore that withered appearance, yet when he saw Haotian arrive, a trace of nearly imperceptible surprise flashed through his eyes before returning to calm.
"Daoist Haotian, it has been a long time." Jieyin pressed his palms together in greeting.
Haotian returned the gesture. "Fellow Daoist Jieyin, I trust you have been well."
The three entered the mountain and arrived at a simple Stone Hall.
There was little furnishing within the hall—only three prayer mats and a stone desk.
Upon the desk sat a pot of clear water and three clay cups.
Once host and guests had taken their seats, Zhunti personally poured the water and said with a smile, "Life in the mountains is humble, and there is no tea to offer. I can only serve you a cup of spring