"What are you muttering about?" Wen Ruohai glanced at the young Taoist in displeasure.
The young Taoist tucked his hands back into his sleeves and hesitated briefly.
"Though he broke a taboo, he has kept Chaolong Temple's legacy alive. Even without merit, he deserves credit for his toil."
"Martial uncle!"
Just then, two children in pale green robes walked over.
They were spotlessly clean, without a trace of dust from the road.
Their faces were fair and clean too, so exquisitely formed that one might suspect they had leaped out of a painting.
"Two more?"
Doubts began stirring in Wen Ruohai's mind. The mountain paths were difficult to travel.
Seeing a Taoist here was rare enough, let alone encountering three at once.
Though young, he was no fool.
He could not help growing wary and quietly stepped back two paces.
The young Taoist paid him no further attention, considering how to deal with this penniless Confucian scholar.
He had practiced at this temple as a child, then attained the Way through his cultivation and entered an entirely new world.
To him, this temple was more a place of memories, like the thatched hut where a scholar who had become an official had spent ten bitter years studying by a cold window.
He had merely intended to revisit some old memories while passing through.
Who could have known that Chaolong Temple's current head was actually a Confucian scholar?
Wen Ruohai shouldered his carrying pole, a bucket hanging from either end, and prepared to head back.
"Little Taoist, take me to have a look at your temple."
"Who are you? Why should I take you to our temple?" Wen Ruohai asked warily.
"Ruohai, what are you doing here?"
Wen Ruohai turned around, and the unease hanging over his heart immediately settled.
"Sir!