The sky dimmed the second the car cleared the city limits.
Rain came down out of nowhere—sparse at first, then a relentless sheet.
The tires skidded against the slick mountain switchbacks.
The slope grew steeper, fog thick enough to taste, coiling around the dark green forest.
I gripped the steering wheel, my focus razor-sharp.
By the time I reached Yunqi Ancient Temple, dusk had bled into full night.
Four weathered clerical script characters were carved into the stone plaque, glistening wet under the rain.
No clatter of burning incense, no tacky tourist traps.
Just rain drumming on the treetops, and perfect, unbroken silence.
This place only hosted a handful of high-powered elites or devout seekers looking for real solitude. On normal days, the monks were few and far between, and
