Guangzhou.
A light rain was falling.
In the Martyrs' Cemetery, Lian Youming walked through the rain beneath an umbrella, making his way into its depths until he reached a small pavilion in the middle of a lake.
The octagonal pavilion had double eaves covered in gray tiles, and four characters hung inside.
Blood offered to Xuanyuan.
The rain fell without cease, blurring the lake with countless ripples.
Inside the pavilion, an unremarkable old man in plain clothes was dozing with a broom cradled in his arms. A pot of strong tea sat beside him, its thick coating of tea stains almost turning the pot yellow.
Lian Youming wanted to make out the man's face, but the strange thing was that although he had seen him at first glance, the moment he looked away, his memory of the man's features rapidly faded, as though he had never seen them clearly or made them out.
Bowing slightly in greeting, Lian Youming went inside anyway.
"Greetings, Senior!"
"Young man, I have nothing left to teach you. Why have you come again?" the old man said without opening his eyes.
Lian Youming closed his umbrella and smiled. "Weren't you waiting for me, Senior?"
After all, before this, he had been unable even to catch the man's shadow. Yet now he could walk here and see him in person, which clearly meant the man was waiting for him.
The old man chuckled. "You are the head of the Two Teachings, after all. Naturally, I ought to meet you."
With that, a pair of wise eyes, weathered by the vicissitudes of life, slowly opened amid the curtain of rain.
"Foresight perfection? It seems you gained quite a lot on this trip. You are qualified to meet me, too."
His tone was calm. Words like these would