208, Verses from Another World

Capital at dusk.

The fiery clouds touched the edge of the azure sky, blending into an ink-like scroll.

Zhao Douan rode a fine horse, scrutinizing the road ahead and the white-robed monk in the middle.

He appeared to be in his thirties, with gentle and handsome features, a composed demeanor, and his sparse eyebrows framed his eyes, clear as those of an infant.

Zhao Douan had never met Bian Ji, but he had seen his portrait.

Added to that, the martial artist's instinctive wariness towards cultivation powerhouses, he had already guessed seventy to eighty percent.

The next second, the white-robed monk brought his hands together in a salutation that confirmed his conjecture:

"Buddha bless, I am Bian Ji. Is the person ahead Lord Zhao from the White Horse Hall?"

...

...

After a while.

Inside a simply elegant pavilion by the street.

The assistant, with careful reverence, presented vegetarian tea and pastries, saying, "Please enjoy."

He then withdrew slowly.