Nangong Cheng looked at them and paused. His lips moved, but he didn't say a word. 'Compared to these kids, how much better off am I?'
'My Literary Gallbladder is broken and my Dao Heart is covered in dust. Even if I get out, my life is probably over.'
With a dazed expression, Nangong Cheng was attended to by four young servants. They helped him bathe and change into a clean set of Confucian robes.
Then, he was once again supported by two disciples as they led him from the room and into a new one.
This room was arranged like a reception hall, but in the center stood a small, round table.
The middle-aged man in the Daoist Robe, Hua Zhengyu, was already seated at the table. Beside him sat Little Monk Huineng, his posture somewhat strange.
The three of them sat at the small, round table, looking at each other from just a short distance away. For a time, no one spoke.
