Though he knew it was a hallucination, Kong Jian still felt the pain.
He threw his arms around the old monk and burst into tears.
"Run..." The old monk's voice was faint; he clearly didn't have the strength to say more.
But he gave everything he had to ensure Kong Jian could live.
The old monk had found Little Kongjian at the foot of the mountain, and ever since, the two had depended on each other for survival in the dilapidated mountain temple.
The place was desolate and never saw any worshippers.
Only two monks, one old and one young, lived there. The old monk even tended a small plot of land to ensure they had three meals a day.
Years passed, and Kong Jian grew to look like a boy of seven or eight.
But after another two or three years, Kong Jian's appearance and height hadn't changed a bit.
Although the temple was dilapidated and remote, it was nestled among rolling mountains and lush greenery.
