The old monk looked at him with a gentle smile and shook his head. It was unclear whether he meant he did not know the answer or did not understand why he had asked.
The young monk seemed much steadier than before, but he still had something of a temper. Hearing this, he said unhappily, "What do you mean by that?"
When those cultivators had been discussing the matter earlier, they had only spoken of who was more likely to become the Green Mountain Sect Master, without voicing their own preferences.
This was not something just anyone was qualified to offer an opinion on.
The young monk felt that the question clearly carried malicious intent.
"Just asking."
Jing Jiu took off his Bamboo Hat and sat down before the two monks.
The young monk was very surprised to see that it was him, and said happily, "Immortal Master Jing Jiu, it's you! What are you doing here? We meet again."
Jing Jiu said, "No longer practicing Silence Meditation?"
Somewhat embarrassed, the young monk rubbed his head.
The old monk smiled too and said, "When you visited the temple that year, I was still in the north. After I returned, I heard my disciple say..."
As he spoke, he suddenly began coughing. The wrinkles on his face deepened, and he looked to be in great pain.
The young monk hurriedly explained that his master had suffered internal injuries near the Snowfield, which were very difficult to heal.
Jing Jiu looked over and found that cold had invaded the old monk's meridians, leaving them somewhat withered. There really was no particularly good treatment; he could only recuperate properly for a while.
The young monk was talking about the bitter winds of White City, the ugliness of the Snow Nation Monsters, the mystery