In the evening, a strange ancient temple appeared leisurely, like a ruin in the gap between years, escaping the long river of time.
The fog in the forest was so thick that even the curling sandalwood had become thicker and could not be blown away by the wind. The Zen chanting that made people's minds free of distractions could not break through the constraints of the forest and soon disappeared in the sound of the rustling leaves.
"Dang!"
The door of the main hall was pushed open, and this ancient temple welcomed an uninvited guest.
"Master, I am back." Yu Lu sat cross-legged on the cushion, looking at the holy white dragon on the shoulder of the dragon-raising monk, and suddenly thought of the young soul of the Bailong River.
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