"You're too kind," the old man replied calmly. After pondering for a moment, he asked, "I wonder, young friend, where are you from? Why have you ventured alone into these desolate mountains?"
Mo Hua clasped his hands in greeting and replied, "I am a disciple from a small sect nearby. I was following my mentor to seek knowledge, and as we passed by Solitary Mountain, I took the opportunity to explore. I accidentally lost my way and ended up here, encountering you, senior."
The old man's wrinkled face showed a faint smile, "Well, it seems we're truly destined to meet, young friend."
"Indeed, we are," Mo Hua nodded, then sat down cross-legged, mimicking the old man's gaze into the distance. Yet, the distance held nothing but desolate mountains, devoid of anything else.
Mo Hua withdrew his gaze, turned his head, and leaned forward to look at what was in front of the old man.
In front of the old man was a mound of dirt and sand. Upon it were drawn several lines of patterns.
