In the morning mountain wilderness, the mountain mist had not yet fully dispersed when an old man, carrying a hoe, arrived early at his own patch of land. After he had labored away, huffing and puffing, and hoed his entire small plot from end to end, just as he was about to sit down for a rest, the mountain mist somehow cleared away.
Raising his head, the old man saw not the familiar mountains he looked upon every day appearing a short distance ahead of him, but a two-story pavilion that had appeared out of nowhere.
Dazed and in disbelief, the old man rubbed his eyes again and again. He had come to this wasteland just yesterday; no matter how hard he tried, he could not figure out how a house had managed to grow out of this barren land overnight.
Chapter 85