Looking at Jing Jiu's pale face and the trace of gold in his eyes, Zhao Layue remained silent.
Quiet Garden was not quiet. Coughs sounded from time to time.
Holding the third broom he had made that year, Liu S sui swept the remaining snow and debris from the ground. His face was somewhat pale too, and he coughed now and then.
The winters had been rather cold these past few years. Snow fell at Fruitful Accomplishment Temple, and the clashes between the true qi inside him had grown somewhat worse.
White Cat entered the garden, his gaze moving between Jing Jiu's and Liu S sui's pale faces, full of pity.
Life was not going very well for this master and servant, but Zhao Layue was the opposite. Her complexion had grown much fairer, with two healthy patches of red on her cheeks. She looked like an apple, her skin so delicate a breath might break it, fresh and delicious, completely unlike the girl on Sword Peak with her tangled short hair and dust-covered body.
White Cat slowly approached the veranda, leaped onto the wooden floor, stepped onto her knees, stretched out to rub his face against hers, and only then carefully settled into her arms.
Fruitful Accomplishment Temple was the greatest temple in the world. It valued quiet Buddhist cultivation and held an extremely exalted place in mortal hearts. Before the actual holiday arrived, the surrounding villagers naturally dared not disturb the masters' peace with firecrackers. There were no firecrackers, but the scents of the New Year drifted over from far beyond the temple...
Some were cured ribs, some were salted fish, and some were freshly slaughtered New Year pigs.
Even beyond the mortal world, even with a great Chan Buddhist formation sealing it off, these traces of mortal