Seeing the old monk beyond the mist, holding a strange saffron-yellow monk's robe in his hands, Xiao Hua could not help but sigh with feeling. Just moments ago, he had been babbling nonsense with Little White about the spirit of all things. Yet for a human, what demons found most impossible to attain was the human heart. Only with a heart could one possess benevolence, righteousness, and virtue; only then could one remain without regret for the faith in one's heart. Such humanity was likely something demons would never understand. From Little Linglong Temple to this hot spring, Xiao Hua had arrived with but a single flight. Yet he also knew clearly that, not to mention the slippery snow and treacherous mountain paths, merely feeling his way here from Little Linglong Temple with those clouded eyes had already been extraordinarily difficult for the old monk. And now, snowflakes had piled upon the old monk's robes; who knew how long he had been standing there?
Yet the old monk's arms calmly held the monk's robe. A saffron-yellow hat rested atop it, with a string of prayer beads coiled beside the hat. His eyes gazed quietly ahead, seeming to pierce through the mist and fall beyond the cliff. From those clouded eyes, Xiao Hua saw his unwavering faith and his persistence. Though Xiao Hua had said nothing all along, the old monk believed that he was bathing in the hot spring.
Faced with such weighty trust, Xiao Hua felt a rare tension, as though it were a kind of responsibility. This responsibility made him feel more constrained and ill at ease than when he had faced the strange insect in the void.
"Elder, please wait a moment. I... will come up now!" After pondering briefly, Xiao Hua scooped up the hot spring