The two walked up a path to a shack, glancing at each other. Yongliang gave Everett a soft smile before heading up to the front door, lightly rapping on it. It took a few moments for the door to open, and they were soon face to face with an 80 year old monk. The two put their hands together and bowed respectfully to the man.
"Hello sir," Yongliang said softly in semi-fluent Japanese. "We're passing by and we've run into some troubles along the way. We were wondering if your town has any cultivators? Or have you come across any?"
"Cultivators?" the monk asked, before humming in thought and nodding his head a couple times. "They don't come around here much. I haven't seen any in a few years. But there is one young man I came across a few years back. He's just a wandering cultivator. He came by my place once and I helped him by giving him food and a place to sleep. He's Chinese, just like yourselves."
