The tea mist curled upward; the relic's golden light spread faintly within the watery haze, shifting unpredictably. Sunlight grazed the main gate, slanting inside and baking Liang Qu's back until it burned.
The Hanging Temple's Buddha Treasure, eighty-one Dharma Relics: one was used in the old days for the taking ritual, one granted when the Hanging Temple bestowed sudden realization, and today another three…
Though there was a chance more Dharma Relics might be born again, Liang Qu was not a man of the Buddhist Sect; he merely had some feeling about it, yet in solid fact had used no fewer than five. Likely, in all antiquity till now, such a thing had never happened.
A formless mood rose like the tea mist on the table, steaming and indistinct. Liang Qu had originally wanted to share the joy of his cultivation with the Old Monk. If he accepted them, he would probably feel ashamed even lying down with Eying at night, thinking he had violated the Buddhist Sect's precepts.
"Master…"
