Since they were martial arts grandmasters, Master Fangzheng of Shaolin and Daoist Chongxu of Wudang not only sat next to each other, but also had a small tea table between them, with two cups of fragrant tea on it.
The other sect leaders, chiefs, heads, and elders from the various prefectures of the Two Capitals and Thirteen Provinces, the Three Mountains and Five Peaks, and the Five Lakes and Four Seas had no such privilege.
Even Yue Buqun didn't!
After all, the platform for the martial arts assembly was only so large. It was already impressive that it could seat more than a hundred people. Where could they possibly fit that many tea tables?
"..."
At that moment, while the martial artists below the platform continued their heated debate, Daoist Chongxu sat in the Wudang section, gently rubbing his teacup. He glanced first at Zuo Lengchan, whose face was ashen, then at Yue Buqun, whose expression kept shifting as he fielded the other sect leaders' compliments. Finally, he lowered his eyes to the tea in his cup.
No one knew what he was thinking. He simply kept his head bowed, as if the clamor of the sect leaders, chiefs, and heads around him—and the din below the platform—had nothing to do with him.
After a long while, when the surrounding noise and arguments gradually died down, Daoist Chongxu set down his teacup and slowly rose to his feet.
His movements were steady and unhurried. Though he looked frail and thin, and seemed almost unsteady on his feet, the moment he stood, countless eyes above and below the platform turned toward him.
When he saw that the crowd had quieted and all eyes were on him, he calmly cupped his hands and let out a wistful sigh.
"Cough—"
"Fellow martial artists..."