The welcoming Daoist strode inside. Just beyond the temple gates stood a great hall enshrining divine statues. Passing through it brought him to a courtyard used to receive visitors, with a reception hall and two rows of side rooms where pilgrims could stay overnight.
The welcoming Daoist did not pause, hurrying farther inside. Beyond the courtyard, the buildings grew more numerous; this was where the Daoists lived. One courtyard near the rear was rather different. Relatively secluded, it was rarely approached, and within it stood a three-story wooden tower. Its architecture was distinctive, too. Unlike the quiet elegance of the other buildings, this tower possessed a towering solemnity.
At that moment, an aged Daoist stood before a half-open window on the third floor, watching the people by the distant temple gates while the fingers of his right hand rapidly worked through divinations.
Another man stood nearby: Liu Zhan.
Yet even Liu Zhan remained silent, merely watching the old Daoist and waiting quietly.
After a moment, the aged Daoist gently exhaled a stale breath and shook his head.
"Prince Dai's spirit is whole and his vital energy abundant. He suffers from no illness."
His face and body were aged and unremarkable, yet his eyes still shone, as though a clay statue of a god had been consecrated and brought to life. As that light shifted in his gaze, others hardly dared look him in the eye.
In truth, this was no exaggeration.
As Liu Zhan's elder and martial uncle within the sect, the old Daoist's greatest gift was his pair of eyes. Natural talent and subsequent cultivation alike had made his sight sharper and clearer. Many things that might deceive other Daoists had nowhere to hide beneath his gaze.
Even Liu Zhan dared not meet his eyes for long. Seeing the