Snow blanketed the summit of the solitary peak, the heavy Buddhist bell of Shaolin Temple rang out, its toll resounding through the mountains, scattering the evermore vast falling snow. Mr. Ying stood with his hands clasped behind his back, silent and unspoken. Wang Anfeng, though fearing him, also respected him and kept half a step behind, standing in silence as if beside an elder.
After an indefinite amount of time, Mr. Ying slowly turned his body, his facial expression as cold and harsh as the wind and snow that had seeped into it, giving Wang Anfeng a glance as if nothing had happened before, saying,
"I mentioned the first point earlier, my requirements are not high. You need only rank within the top hundred of Shaolin disciples of the last hundred years to leave the mountain and enter Jianghu."