Amid green mountains and clear waters stood a tiny Daoist temple.
The temple was very small, so small that it held only two Daoists, one older and one younger.
Dressed in a blue-green Daoist robe, the Great Daoist stroked his beard and swayed his head as he chanted, "The Dao~ that can be spoken~~ is not~ not the ordinary Dao!"
Sitting opposite him, the Little Daoist wore a gray robe. His eyes were clear and calm, and a trace of helplessness hung on his handsome face.
"Master, you've been reciting that line for over a decade. Could you stop?" The Little Daoist looked helplessly at his master, who loved playing the teacher, and complained weakly.
"What the hell do you know? I'm a Heavenly Prodigy of my generation! Every word I speak contains Heaven and Earth's Ultimate Principles. That one line alone is enough for you to study for a lifetime, brat!" The Great Daoist bristled his beard and glared at the Little Daoist as he snapped.
"Then could you say another line, Master, so your disciple can benefit greatly in his next life too?" The Little Daoist mercilessly exposed his master's words for what they were.
"Of course, but I haven't thought of one yet!" the Great Daoist said without blushing or skipping a heartbeat.
The Little Daoist sighed and said, "Master, couldn't you teach me some Daoist arts, or perhaps martial arts?"
"What's so hard about that? Your master has studied the Dao for so many years. Whatever the spell art or secret art, I can see right through it with a single glance!" the Great Daoist declared, brimming with confidence.
Without the slightest hope, the Little Daoist asked, "Then can you teach me?"
The Great Daoist refused without mercy. "But I've never seen any in my life!"