At the Five Mountains Alliance Meeting, Zhao Rong had seen Shaolin lay disciples wearing similar costumes.
Seeing them with an injured old monk, he became even more certain of their identities.
Zhao Rong, traveling alone on horseback, did not attract much attention.
Yet these people were extremely vigilant.
"Who are you, lad?"
The middle-aged man spoke harshly, but Zhao Rong did not take offense and casually replied:
"Just a traveler in the vast world of Jianghu."
The man's suspicion was not allayed:
"Then, I'll ask you to keep your distance from us."
The old monk, in meditation cross-legged and with a wrinkled face, opened his eyes to glance at Zhao Rong upon hearing this.
"Amitabha, nephew disciple, do not be rude."
His voice weak, he apologized, "Little benefactor, please forgive us; their concern for my well-being has made them overly anxious."
