Inside a tranquil and secluded temple in the mortal world, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting mottled patches of light and shadow. A few monks were chanting scriptures inside the main hall for their morning meditation.
At this moment, the imposing and majestic Marshal Tianpeng stood in the courtyard, his gaze locked firmly upon a little novice monk of only seven or eight years old standing not far ahead.
The little monk's bald head was particularly striking, but his eyes—which should have been as clear as water—instead held a trace of worldly vicissitude and helplessness.
Chapter 467