Take this jar of wine back to Shaolin Temple.
It was prepared for Libo. Ever since he left Great Liang Village more than two years ago, I’ve never seen him again. If it wasn’t for the occasional message brought back by a bird, I would have almost thought that something had happened to the old man who watched me grow up.
However, by now I’ve reached the Sixth Rank of Inner Strength Martial Body, my cultivation has gradually deepened, and I’ve come to understand just how unfathomable the things Libo did back then were.
In a matter of days, he created a set of thunder division supreme techniques for me.
The more profound one’s martial arts are, the more one feels the depth and mystery of such methods.
With Libo’s martial arts, where in the vast world couldn’t he go? There’s no need for me to worry about him.
But still, I do miss him so much...
I wonder if he still drinks mediocre wine all day long as he used to do in Great Liang Village.
Wang Anfeng sat next to the table, lost in thought for a long while, before he managed to calm the longing in his heart. His gaze swept aside, and he reached out to grasp the Mo Blade that lay across the table, flicking the blade lightly with his fingers.
The blade sang clear and melodious.
He casually executed two saber strikes, piercing and sharp, the blade edge a snowy white expanse, seemingly causing the temperature in the room to drop instantly. Wang Anfeng once again rested the saber in front of him, right hand holding the hilt, left hand lightly brushing over the trembling blade edge, and said in a low voice,
"What a pity, you belong to the Blade Madman, and I cannot use you all the time."
"You’ll have to put up with staying on the mountain for some time."
The Mo Blade seemed sentient, vibrating with a voice of its own.
With a flip of his wrist, the Buddha Beads emitted a misty glow, the thousand-jin heavy weapon vanished from the young man’s hand as if it were a mere illusory bubble.
Not just the Mo Blade, but even the stubborn yet lazy red lean horse was released back to Shaolin Temple by Wang Anfeng yesterday. After all, Blade Madman had recently made such a huge splash that the martial artists of Immortal Pavilion were frantically searching the entire Fufeng area for traces of him.
Although if they really did encounter the Blade Madman, they would probably be more docile than a house-trained dog.
But Wang Anfeng really didn’t want to get tangled up in any more trouble.
Last night Gongsun Jing sent a message that Meng Yuexue and Chuan Lian had already arrived in Fufeng County City. As he expected, they had successfully entered the Academy, and Gongsun Jing had also forged a ’life-and-death’ friendship with the Great Elder of Immortal Pavilion.
There was no need for him to disguise himself as the Blade Madman to attract the attention of Immortal Pavilion anymore.
Moreover, the Blade Madman’s attire was too distinctive - black clothes, Mo Blade, red horse, an aloof expression, and never one for casual laughter.
At the very least, for quite some time to come, I won’t be able to ride that lean horse or wield that heavy blade...
However, the territory of Shaolin Temple is vast; that should be enough for it to create a ruckus.
Wang Anfeng shook his head, just at this moment, his heart suddenly tightened, and he abruptly thought of his Third Master, the dashing and articulate thief, and the lean horse that loved to put on airs. An ominous feeling inexplicably rose in his heart.
If that wretched horse, already of a bad temper, were to hang around with the Third Master all day, what sort of form would it take the next time it came out...?!
No, it shouldn’t be possible...
Wang Anfeng’s face grew faintly pale.
Even if the Third Master were bored, he wouldn’t possibly teach a horse how to show off... right?!
Swallowing reflexively, Wang Anfeng raised his right hand, the Buddha Beads on his wrist lighting up faintly as he said,
"Second Master?"
Almost instantly, the kindly voice of an old man rang in his ear, saying,
"What’s the matter, Anfeng?"
"Why are you contacting Shaolin Temple at this time? Are you hungry for something?"
The old man’s voice was kind and smiling.
The flow of time inside Shaolin Temple was naturally much slower than in the Great Qin’s Jianghu outside. However, for some reason, Mr. Ying had already synchronized the time, only stretching it out again when Wang Anfeng entered for cultivation, making the young man feel as if his time spent in arduous training passed painfully slow.
If one were to ask why, Hong Luoyu had once inquired to the Scholar.
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The latter, with a face filled with disgust and scorn, sneered back,
"That boy is dull enough as is; if we slow it down by three times, he would be too stupid."
The thief almost reflexively retorted, are you saying you watch him when you have nothing better to do?
Then the next day, Wu Changqing and Master Ci saw the world’s fastest thief using Qinggong, ashen-faced and continuously retching mid-air, lethargic as if he were a fish out of water. Upon examination by Wu Changqing, it was determined to be due to an airy breath and a weak heartbeat.
These symptoms often affect young Jianghu members experiencing flying with their elders for the first time and failing to cope with the speed.
After that day, the times of Great Qin and Shaolin were synchronized; hence Wu Changqing could also determine Wang Anfeng’s actions by the time in Shaolin, guessing if the young man was hungry.
Wang Anfeng shook his head and said,
"No..."
"I just wanted to ask, Second Master, where... where is the Third Master now?"
Wu Changqing sensed the young man’s hesitancy and grew curious. He looked around and said,
"Luoyu, huh..."
"He’s not on this mountain right now."
Wang Anfeng let out a sigh of relief, a slight smile appearing on his face, and said,
"He’s not? Well, that’s good."
Wu Changqing hummed in affirmation, still puzzled, but then he remembered something and added,
"He’s out taking your horse for a ride..."
In the inn, the young man’s relaxed face suddenly became rigid.
...........................
Shaolin Temple World · The Far North.
This world had once been shattered by Mr. Ying himself. But after all this time, it had been pieced back together with spiritual charm. Though it could not compare to its original vast expanse, it was complete nonetheless.
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The world here is gloomy and indistinct, with a clear view of snowfields and icy peaks forming a proud and icy cold vista.
The frigid dry snow, swept up by the northerly wind, slashed like a knife, stirring Hong Luoyu’s black hair and the crimson steed’s mane.
The elegant thief lifted his head, his face full of sorrow yet resolute, and said,
"As a steed with dreams, you should tread the coldest places in the world, travel the longest deserts."
"You should step over everything under heaven, and only then can you rise above all other steeds."
"If they dare act tough in front of you, you don’t even need to respond—just lift your head, show them your nostrils, and ask them one question..."
"Are you worthy?"
"No, you are not..."
The crimson thin horse’s eyes widened as if enlightened, a light shining in its eyes. It lifted its head, its nostrils puffing out two streams of steam, and its front hooves ceaselessly pounded the ice, clearly very excited.
Its mane fluttered, like flames, standing out starkly against the snowfield, attracting the wild beasts that appeared according to the rules.
Seven or eight polar bears slowly approached.
Hong Luoyu withdrew his gaze, scoffed lightly, then solemnly continued,
"Now, the first step..."
"Take them down!"
The crimson thin horse neighed excitedly, flames igniting on its body.
It charged toward the fierce beasts in an extremely brutal manner.
..............................
On the second floor of the inn, Wang Anfeng lay on the bed, his face full of powerlessness.
It was already too late.
That ’talented’ stinky horse had already caught the attention of the third master.
Meanwhile, on the first floor below, a young Taoist around fourteen or fifteen years old peeked his head in and walked inside.
With a bamboo hairpin upright in his hair, and carrying a plethora of bags nearly half his size, he accentuated his small stature all the more, his face fair, eyebrows light as distant mountains, eyes like stars, and his gaze sparkling with life whenever he looked around.
The waiter came forward, nearly blinded by the beauty of the young Taoist’s face, his heart pounding crazily. But in the next moment, discovering the Adam’s apple on the Taoist’s throat, he felt as though he had eaten a worm, his face unsightly beyond measure, and managed a forced smile,
"Esteemed Taoist, would you like a room or a meal?"
The young Taoist joined his hands in greeting and spoke,
"Sorry to trouble you, I neither wish to dine nor to stay. I’m only looking to inquire about some news."
"I wonder if the waiter here has seen this person in recent days?"
Whilst speaking, he pulled out a scroll from the right sleeve of his robe and slowly unrolled it, revealing the picture of a handsome Taoist of about twenty years old, with casual brows, often smiling, riding a gray donkey—a figure rarely seen nowadays.
After careful recollection, he still shook his head and said,
"I apologize, young Taoist, if such a distinguished person had come here, I certainly would have remembered."
"But truly, there are no clues."
The young Taoist’s eyes dimmed.
At that moment, the waiter actually felt a heart-wrenching guilt as if he had committed some grievous sin, unable to forgive himself.
The young Taoist bowed to the waiter, his salute meticulous, and said,
"Then, thank you."
He then smiled at the waiter, turned around, and left with a bulging bundle on his back. The waiter stood dazedly for a long time before returning to the back hall like a zombie, his mind filled with the young Taoist’s various expressions. Suddenly, he slapped himself hard, nearly bursting into sobs.
"Dad, Mom, your son cannot let our family line die out..."
Outside the inn, the young Taoist sighed, raised his hand to touch his throat, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly in a smug curve. Then straightening his demeanor, he looked up to the sky, sighed, and murmured in complaint,
"Elder brother, you blockhead, you must have been too lazy to make the sect’s mark..."
"Hmm... given elder brother’s temperament, he would definitely not budge if he could lie down, and he loves eating, so he surely wouldn’t go to remote places... There must be good tea..."
After some thought, he picked a direction and continued on.
On the second floor of the inn.
The Buddha beads on Wang Anfeng’s wrist suddenly lit up with a faint glow. The young man was slightly taken aback, thinking it was the masters, but he realized the glow was somewhat dim, clearly not emanating from the Shaolin Temple.
He was not sure if it was Gongsun Jing or the foreign boy.
Wang Anfeng’s mind wandered.
Indeed, it had been some time since he had communicated with that foreign boy, who was more or less a subordinate... How had he been these days?
In his distraction, his left hand already brushed over the Buddha beads.
The glow faded.
A middle-aged man’s voice reached Wang Anfeng’s ear, respectfully addressing him as Young Master, seemingly very hesitant, and then slowly began to speak after a moment.
Wang Anfeng’s calm expression instantly stiffened.
Gongsun Jing had only one sentence to say.
"Young Master, Miss Tan... she has passed away."
PS: Here’s the first update of the day...
Also, Miss Tan’s pretend death took place in Xi Dingzhou, lasting seven days after that storyline; roughly around the time Wang Anfeng had completed that part of the story.
Thanks to Wuyou_the_most_victorious_auspicious for the generous donation, also thanks to 龍long for the generous donation, I’m truly grateful to both (bowing hands(´•ω•`๑))
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