Rain poured down in torrents. Deep in the mountains, a party entered the main hall of an abandoned temple. They were traveling merchants—peddlers, to be precise—carrying iron rulers and their wares. There were eight of them, all burly men.
On seeing Xuanming, they cupped their fists in greeting.
"Daoist priest, might we share this room for a while?"
Xuanming rose and returned their greeting. "I, too, am merely taking shelter here, not the owner. Please make yourselves comfortable."
Reassured, the peddlers saluted him again, then went off to one side. They gathered some straw from the hall and began building a fire and cooking, stripping off their clothes to ward off the chill and revealing lean, powerful bodies with bulging muscles.
More footsteps approached. This time, it was two scholars, refined in manner and handsome in appearance, both quite genteel. After exchanging greetings, they found a corner in which to shelter from the rain.
One last set of footsteps approached, and five martial wanderers entered—three men and two women. Their vitality shone through, and they had already crossed the threshold of the Martial Dao.
Xuanming silently observed them all as he ate his toasted steamed bun, then shook his head helplessly. A sudden downpour, a ruined temple, merchants, scholars, martial heroes... Throw in a female ghost or something, and we'd have the whole set.
Even without divining anything on his fingers, Xuanming knew something was bound to happen. There were quite a few things lurking inside and outside this temple.
Sure enough, just as he finished filling his stomach, a figure appeared in the temple, looking anxious.
"Who told you to shelter here? Leave at once!"
The newcomer was a middle-aged monk in gray robes, with a protruding belly and a fierce face. The moment he arrived, he began chasing