Although the Yellowbrow monster had been afraid that Annie might cause another commotion and bury him, forcing him to withdraw some of his spells so that the weather was no longer quite so cold and the wind and snow were not as fierce, the biting wind still howled atop this snowy mountain, and the snow on the ground remained thick.
But none of that mattered!
What was strange was that, on this mountaintop in the snowy range, surrounded by cliffs with no path leading up and far from Lesser Thunderclap Temple, there was actually a thatched pavilion made of straw?
Inside the pavilion, an old Daoist priest sat cross-legged. On the little red clay stove before him, a pot of tea sent wisps of steam curling upward.
He held a small fan and waved it gently, making the coals in the little stove flare and dim. Every so often, tiny blue tongues of flame even rose from them.
If Annie had been there, she would have discovered that the old Daoist was none other than that mysterious Yuan Shoucheng.
Suddenly!
Just as the old Daoist was absorbed in fanning the fire, rustling footsteps came from the snowy ground in the distance.
Then, the figure of a young monk gradually emerged. His clothes were thin, his collar hung open, and his feet were bare.
And who else could that young monk be but Maitreya?
He was walking through the bitter cold, stepping lightly through the snow as though the wind and snow had no effect on him at all.
"..."
Yuan Shoucheng looked up. When he saw who it was, the corners of his mouth lifted into a faint smile, and he called from afar:
"You're here?"
"What, did you just go meet someone?"
As he asked, he continued fanning the