Chapter 307: Chapter 130: First Arrival at Fushan Island, Sun Yong’s Past
She paused, her fine brows arching slightly as a flicker of admiration rose in her heart.
For two days, they had traveled hard, riding a hundred li each day and braving the elements. The journey had left even her exhausted, yet Yang Jing still had the energy to train. His perseverance was truly astonishing.
’I wonder what Father is doing right now?’
Sun Ningxiang thought to herself.
She had lost her mother at a young age and grown up in Yuhe County. For the past twenty years, she had spent most of her time at Sun’s Martial Arts Hall. Now, far from her father and her home, a sense of melancholy washed over her.
Sun Ningxiang thought about it carefully.
’Did I really agree to come to the Xuanzhen Sect for some fated opportunity? To break through to the Huajin Realm?’
She wasn’t particularly obsessed with martial arts. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have diverted so much of her energy to studying medicine. If she had dedicated herself completely to martial training from the very beginning, with her father’s daily guidance and the resources of the Martial Arts Hall, she might have already broken through to the Anjin realm by now.
Sun Ningxiang’s gaze shifted to the room next door.
’If I hadn’t learned that he was coming to the Xuanzhen Sect, would I have come?’
Sun Ningxiang pondered for a moment but couldn’t find an answer. Or perhaps she already had one and found it too embarrassing to dwell on. An uncontrollable blush spread across her cheeks.
She took a deep breath and walked to the window, gazing out at Hidden Dragon Lake under the night sky. She could faintly hear steady breathing from the next room. The sound was rhythmic and prolonged—a clear sign he was engrossed in his cultivation.
After a long while, Sun Ningxiang sighed softly, then turned and blew out the candle.
As a fellow Martial Artist, she understood the significance of his persistence, and it made her feel all the more certain that accompanying him to the Xuanzhen Sect had been the right decision.
The night deepened, and the clamor of the inn gradually subsided. All that remained was the sound of the waves on Hidden Dragon Lake and the steady breathing from the two rooms, intertwining in the silence.
...
Early the next morning, Yang Jing’s eyes opened out of habit.
He had trained late into the night and then slept soundly. He now felt exceptionally refreshed.
The next moment, with a thought, a panel appeared before his eyes, clearly displaying the cultivation progress of his three martial arts—
[Mountain Shattering Fist Perfection (70/2000)]
[Surging Tide Kicks: Mastery (491/1000)]
[Indestructible True Skill: Initial Success (85/500)]
Yang Jing nodded slightly.
Since breaking through to the Huajin Realm, his training efficiency for both *Surging Tide Kicks* and *Indestructible True Skill* had increased significantly.
Yang Jing estimated that at this rate, his *Indestructible True Skill* would reach the Peak of Mingjin in twenty days at most, allowing him to break through to the Anjin realm.
’Whether or not I can get into the Xuanzhen Sect all comes down to today,’ Yang Jing thought. ’I just hope Master’s old sect brother is still willing to do him this favor.’
The first light of dawn appeared outside. Mist from Hidden Dragon Lake seeped in through the window frame, carrying a crisp, cool dampness.
He got up and stretched, feeling his body brimming with qi and blood. Most of the medicinal power from last night’s training had been refined, and he felt exceptionally energized.
Just as he stepped out of his room, he saw Sun Ningxiang coming out of the room next door.
She had changed into a light turquoise dress, her long hair tied in a loose bun. She had lost the sharp, heroic air of her martial attire, replaced by a gentle grace. The early morning light on her face made her fair skin seem to glow.
"Morning, Junior Brother," Sun Ningxiang greeted him softly, a trace of sleepiness still lingering in her eyes.
"Morning, Senior Sister," Yang Jing nodded in reply.
The two went downstairs to the main hall, where a few other patrons were already having their meal.
After they ordered, the waiter quickly brought over steaming rice porridge, buns, and a few side dishes. Yang Jing broke off a piece of the Exotic Beast Meat jerky he carried, tossed it into the porridge to soften it, and ate.
After a simple breakfast, the two settled their bill and left the inn, making their way back to the shore of Hidden Dragon Lake.
In the morning light, the lake’s surface shimmered. Water vapor rose in the sun, forming a faint, dreamlike mist.
Yang Jing gazed at Fushan Island in the middle of the lake. It was no longer the hazy, indistinct shape from the previous night; he could see it clearly now. The island’s outline was rounded, with both ends curving slightly upward, making it look just like a wild duck floating on the water. No wonder it was named Fushan.
The island was lush with trees, among which pavilions and towers could be faintly seen. Shrouded in the morning mist, it exuded the air of an immortal paradise.
A dozen or so black-canopied boats were moored at the shore, their boatmen shouting to attract customers.
Yang Jing chose a sturdy-looking boat and boarded it with Sun Ningxiang.
The boatman smiled and said, "Just a moment, folks. We’ll set off as soon as we get two or three more passengers. It’s more economical that way."
Without a word, Yang Jing simply took a tael of broken silver from his pouch and tossed it to him.
The boatman reached out to catch it but missed. The silver landed on the floorboards with a crisp CLINK. The boatman’s eyes lit up. He hurriedly picked it up, the wrinkles on his face breaking into a wide grin. "A man of action! We’re off, we’re off!"
With that, he deftly untied the mooring rope and pushed off with a long pole.
The small boat slowly pulled away from the shore, cutting through the calm surface of the morning lake and leaving a long wake in its path.
Yang Jing and Sun Ningxiang stood side by side at the bow. The headwind carried the briny scent of the lake, which wasn’t unpleasant.
As the boat sailed on, Fushan Island drew nearer, and the sights upon it became clearer. A winding stone staircase stretched from the dock up the mountainside and into the island’s interior. It was lined with shady green trees, and the magnificent, upturned eaves of roofs occasionally peeked out from the treetops.
Other boats occasionally passed by on the lake. Some also seemed to be carrying martial artists heading to the Xuanzhen Sect to seek entry. They stood in twos and threes at the bows, gazing fervently at Fushan Island, filled with the same longing for a great sect as Yang Jing and his companion.
An hour later, the small boat finally arrived at the Fushan Island dock.
