Chen Mo hurriedly leaned out to look. Sure enough, he saw a few clumps of withered grass scattered by the roadside. Sun Guhong had taken a solid spill, falling flat on his face. He immediately scrambled up, covered in dust, patting the dirt off his clothes while waving at Chen Mo to signal he was unharmed. Outside the window, the cold wind was piercing; somewhere along the way, scattered, fine frost had begun to drift between heaven and earth. Just as Chen Mo was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Sun Guhong had already limped into the wilderness beside the tracks, vanishing into the vast expanse of snow in the blink of an eye.
"This fellow is certainly interesting."
He turned back to pick up the old book from the floor, a smile curling his lips. Presumably, his casual question earlier had made Sun Guhong mistakenly think he couldn't put the book down. It was indeed an ancient tome; the cover was mottled, the pages yellowed and brittle, filled with dense, handwritten regular script—one look and you knew it had some years on it. It was actually a Buddhist scripture. Chen Mo casually scanned it and spotted the clue; it seemed to be a handwritten copy of the Heart Sutra. However, he had no interest in such stuff, so he merely glanced at it twice before setting it aside.
The scenery rewinding outside the window gradually solidified, but before long, with a long whistle from the train, it started up again, and the scenery began to flow once more. Chen Mo sat on the edge of the bunk, leaning against the pillow, dozing off intermittently. Unbeknownst to him, time flew; the scenery outside changed from bleak withered yellow to a vast whiteness. Heavy goose-feather snow had begun to fall. The cold was pressing. Chen Mo fished out the heavy military greatcoat from his luggage and put it on, tightening his scarf before lying back down.
"Hmm?"
But right then, he let out a soft exclamation. His gaze returned to the yellow book on the small table. Perhaps it had been knocked about when Sun Guhong threw it in earlier; the cover of the old book was curled up at one corner. Chen Mo raised an eyebrow slightly, as if sensing something strange, and leaned in to examine it closely. Inside this book... there seemed to be something hidden.
He took a deep breath and gently lifted the curled part of the cover. Sure enough, there was a hidden layer underneath, stuffed with a piece of brocade about the size of a palm. When he carefully flattened this piece of silk, Chen Mo's pupils suddenly constricted, and then his eyes slowly widened. His gaze fixed on the first few tiny words that came into view, which were actually...
"Twelve-Layer Iron Wall Kung Fu."