Creak.
The somewhat motteled gate of Sikong Zen Temple was opened slowly.
An old monk in a grey monastic robe, who was at the age of having one foot in the grave, walked out of the gate.
The pot-bellied Sikong One and a little Buddhist novice who was about three or four years old, followed him and stopped at the gate of the Zen Temple.
"Master."
Sikong Two rushed to the old monk, and made a bow to him with both hands folded in front. Then he helped him by his right arm.
Zhang Ruochen stared at the old monk, and had the feeling at the first sight, This is an extremely ordinary old monk, but he is somewhat extraordinary.
Wrinkles covered up the face, neck and wrists of the old monk. And he looked extremely old.
Instead of Holy Qi or Buddha Qi, a sense of antiquity spread from his body, which made him more like a human shaped fossil, which had been dug out from the earth, rather than a living person.