บท 504: A Small Porcelain Bottle

"Waste! Scum!"

"Get out!"

In the depth of West-Hill, in a cliff cave covered by vines, some resentful, acrimonious, and raucous swearing words resounded. Even though they were so brassy and unbearable, somehow they were sealed within the cave and did not leak out at all.

The vines were stirred and a figure rushed out of the cave, falling heavily on the ground. It was a young man dressed in an old robe. After a long time, he finally woke up and struggled up, holding on to the wall and coughing painfully.

The Taoist was Long Qing. He held on to the vines to rest, until he confirmed he was not seriously injured. Then he walked to the edge of the cliff, picked up the buckets and box, then walked toward the higher caves. There was no fear or hatred in his eyes and he did not even look back at the cave.