Zhao Ningyun bellowed, "How dare you call yourself a monk of Duopondus Monastery? You're asking for it!" As he spoke, his hand struck out without warning.

The little monk stood his ground in front of the girl.

A gentle breeze brushed away Zhao Ningyun's palm. From the front door of Maesters' Mansion, a young Taoist walked out. He wore his hair in a bun coiffure, secured with a boxwood Taoist hairpin; his feet were clad in faded and cheap linen shoes. He did not look a day over thirty.