The autumn wind swirled up, blowing down withered yellow leaves and carrying them into corners no one cared about.
The Immortal Path stretched on and on, and time, too, seemed to grow long.
There could be ample time to do things that took a long time.
Inside the meditation room.
Yuanxing answered, "Junior Brother Yuankong has already left Chanwood Temple. I don't know where he went, either. I imagine he won't be able to come see you, benefactor."
Chu Xingchen stood for a moment as if in thought, then turned his gaze outside the meditation room.
In the end... I underestimated Yuanjing.
He had thought Yuanjing wanted to call on the last scraps of his old dignity, asking Chu Xingchen to look after Yuankong and give him a helping hand.
He had thought that beneath the letter's asking for nothing lay-asking for everything.
Yuanjing was human, after all, and he had made a decision for himself, too-he had kept the last of his life for himself, and the last of his dignity as well.
But no one could fault him-he had already done more than enough, and done it well.
It was possible Yuanjing had brought it up, but Yuankong had ultimately refused.
But at this very moment, Chu Xingchen only wanted to think the best of Yuanjing.
Besides, Chu Xingchen knew in his heart-this was Yuanjing's choice.
The choice of a monk who seemed somewhat worldly, but was deeply proud and aloof at heart.
He had never truly bowed his head. He had simply been doing what he wanted to do.
At least, ever since Chu Xingchen had known Yuanjing, the old monk had probably never done anything against his own heart.
Yuankong probably knew that, too, which was why he had set off into the distance.
Young though