He left the small valley with the words of Famin Jie still impressed into his mind and with the events of the previous night replaying through his memory. He found his way back to the old trails and roads, passing by farms and isolated communities. A small country temple not far from the beaten path was abandoned long ago but provided shelter from a storm. There, Xin sat patiently on the floor, eyes closed with arms and legs crossed amidst the ghastly statues of a pantheon of deities for all whom the temple stood. They seemed to hauntingly stare at him as the rains poured and the wind howled. To Xin, such idolatry was vanity and mere illusion. Quite ironic that he found shelter in such a place. He scoffed at the idols adorning the walls of the derelict temple while he waited for the storm
