"The power of faith!" Hu Xiaotian said. His gaze turned toward the distant Sound of Brahma Mountain. Seeing the brilliant golden light atop it, he asked softly, "What's that glittering up there?"
"The Golden Summit Hall, the most solemn and mysterious place in Brahma Sound Temple."
Hu Xiaotian nodded. A mounted party approached them from the distance, composed entirely of warriors in brown leather armor. Their leader looked to be someone wealthy or noble. Hu Xiaotian and Xia Changming quietly stepped aside. Most of the believers prostrating themselves in the road rose to get out of the way, but one remained motionless on the ground, completely oblivious to the riders approaching from behind.
The riders did not slow down. Hu Xiaotian could not help worrying for the believer. If they kept going, wouldn't they trample him into pulp? He looked toward the warrior leading them. The man's expression was cold and sinister. He had clearly seen the believer on the ground, yet showed no intention of stopping.
Just as the riders were about to trample the believer, a gray-green figure flashed out of the crowd. An old monk in coarse robes blocked their path and intoned, "Amitabha! May goodness prevail!"
The sight of the old monk filled Hu Xiaotian with delighted surprise. He was none other than Master Yuanmu, the eminent monk from Heavenly Dragon Temple.
The leading Black Hu warrior stared coldly at the old monk before him. The Black Hu people believed in Buddhism, but theirs differed from that of the Central Plains, so his first reaction to Master Yuanmu was not particularly respectful. Nor did he understand the language of the Central Plains. He rattled off a string of words at Yuanmu, who could not understand him either. Yuanmu turned, walked over to the prostrate believer, and