…
…
By the roadside tea pavilion, figures flickered and shifted.
From within the pavilion, many a cheerful voice could be heard.
In front of the public, some waved fans while others struck the table to awaken its wood.
Dear audience, lend me your ears for a tale.
Within the copper mirror at the center of the tea pavilion stood two towering silhouettes, face to face.
The one donning a golden-trimmed Seven Stars Daoist robe and holding a Dao Sword, with an ethereal grace, was none other than Zhang Daoyi of Dragon Tiger Mountain.
His features were not particularly striking, yet there was something about him that was unforgettable.
If one word were needed to describe this quality, it would be 'comforting,' 'harmonious.'
The Buddhist monk, with his shiny bald head, draped in a magnificent kasaya, and holding a staff, exuded a transcendent quality, matching Zhang Daoyi in stance without being overshadowed in the least.
