The threads of rain gradually thinned, yet still fell in an unbroken, lingering curtain from the gray sky.
He An moved to the edge of the thatched shelter and peered through the rain. Two monks in straw rain capes were steadily approaching.
The man in front was powerfully built and wore a woven bamboo hat. Beneath his rain cape, his steps were firm and strong, each footfall leaving a deep print in the muddy mountain path.
More startling, however, was the elderly monk behind him. Raindrops drifting down from the sky quietly veered aside three feet above his head, as though gently pushed away by an invisible barrier, dissolving into fine mist that scattered in all directions.
He An's pupils contracted slightly, and alarm stirred in his heart. Such effortless use of protective Gang Qi was unmistakably a sign of cultivation that had reached a transcendent realm.
Without betraying anything, he retreated into the depths of the thatched hermitage. His right hand rested seemingly casually beside his sword, but his true qi had already begun circulating.
"Creak-"
The rotting bamboo door was gently pushed open, and the two men entered one after the other, bringing with them the damp chill peculiar to the mountains.
The burly monk in front stamped his feet, shaking muddy water from his shoes. He carefully removed his bamboo hat, revealing a square face wet with rain, then turned and gently helped the elderly monk out of his rain cape. Droplets slid slowly along the grain of the bamboo leaves, spreading dark stains across the dusty floor.
Only then could He An study their features. The monk in front appeared to be around forty, with thick brows and a broad forehead. His honest face carried a trace of resolve. His gray robes, soaked through by the