Yuan Ya quickly passed Xiao Hua. By the time Xiao Hua reached the front of the Daoist temple, Yuan Ya had already hurried out of it again and headed down the mountain path.
Only after Yuan Ya had passed him did Xiao Hua raise his head and carefully examine the Daoist temple the old man had mentioned.
This Daoist temple was utterly dilapidated, nowhere near the blue bricks and green tiles Xiao Hua had seen from afar. Its supposed beauty had all been born of distance, and of the lush greenery surrounding it.
At the very front of the Daoist temple stood a shabby little archway, only several feet wide and about two zhang tall. All color had long faded from it, leaving only black stains from wind and rain and mottled rust marks. Above the archway hung an even more tattered plaque. The writing on it was incredibly blurred; Xiao Hua stared at it for several moments, yet could not make out what it said.
Beyond the archway lay a small courtyard and a doorway several feet shorter than the archway. The doorway was half-closed. Apart from a few gaps where the red wooden door had broken away and let through traces of light, the dried, curling flakes of paint resembled the scales on a sea fish, dense upon dense.
Xiao Hua pushed open the wooden door. It let out a creak; clearly, the hinges had not been oiled in a very long time.
Behind the wooden door stood a screen wall, nearly collapsed. Still, it blocked Xiao Hua's view, preventing him from seeing the state of the courtyard beyond.
When Xiao Hua rounded the screen wall and clearly saw everything within the Daoist temple, he could not help but sigh softly.
The Daoist temple was only a dozen