The wind in Longhu Mountain has been blowing for three years and finally stopped.
I pushed open the three-meter-high bronze door of the Dragon King Palace. The hissing sound it made when the door shaft turned was like a sleeping giant grinding its teeth. The phone vibrated wildly in his pocket, and the moment the signal was restored, ninety-nine unread messages crashed into the screen.
They were all sent from the martial arts school.
"Jiang Chen, where are you? The demolition team is here!"
"Three days, they said they would only give three days to move out."
"Master's mourning hall... They're bringing bulldozers in!"
The last message was sent by Aunt Wen, with a crying voice: "Xiaochen, they are crazy, come back quickly!"
My knuckles turned white as I clutched the phone.
Three years. I have been in seclusion in this shabby temple for three years, and I haven't even seen Master for the last time. The first thing I did after leaving the customs was not to go back and offer incense, but to see the news that the mourning hall was going to be bulldozed.
There is no time for hesitation. When I rushed down from the gate of Dragon King Palace, my toes stepped on the gravel like cotton. I hadn't exerted my full strength in three years, but my body's reaction speed was faster than three years ago. The wind blew in my ears, and I ran along the winding mountain road, dragging a long dragon of dust behind me.
I stopped a truck when I went down the mountain. The driver was a chatterbox and kept talking about recent housing prices and demolition payments. I ignored him and stared out the window at the rapidly retreating street scene. The city has changed a lot. When I left three years ago, the street where the martial arts school was still planned for demolition. Now the whole street has been demolished to pieces, leaving only the dusty old building of the martial arts school standing alone in the middle of the ruins.
"Master, it's the building in front."
