```
The streets were drenched in a torrential downpour, with lightning flashing and thunder roaring.
Inside the Yuelai Inn, the noise was still deafening, the sounds of toasting and playing mahjong meshing like the chirping of insects on a summer night, forming a constant buzz.
Zhao Cha stood behind Xiao Baoqi, concentrating intently on learning mahjong techniques, her two claws sneaking out to grab a piece of osmanthus cake and then a handful of melon seeds, her little mouth smacking nonstop...
She had only been at the inn for three or four months, and her small face had visibly plumped up, the original, attractive melon seed-shaped face now having baby fat.
Yang Ge, with one hand holding a bamboo basket and the other grasping an oil-paper umbrella, walked from the kitchen to the front hall.
Zhao Cha sniffed the air, her gaze following the scent to the hot earthen pot in his basket. Her feet moved unconsciously towards him, "Erlang, what delicious thing have you cooked? It smells so good!"
Yang Ge gave her a glance and said, "Keep an eye on the shop, I’m going out for a bit."
"Hey, hey, hey..."
Zhao Cha blocked his path, her gaze fixed on the earthen pot inside the basket, "It’s stormy outside, where are you going?"
Annoyed, Yang Ge waved the oil-paper umbrella to push her aside, "Shopkeeper has been restless these few days, not sleeping well, I’m going over... There’s more in the pot if you want some, serve yourself!"
The most uptodate nove𝙡s are published on frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓.
Zhao Cha, swallowing mouthfuls of saliva, nodded rapidly, "Oh, oh, then you should go and come back soon!"
The salty fish in the front hall also chimed in with random remarks like, "Erlang, go ahead, we’re here, nothing will be lost in the inn," "Come back soon, we’re waiting to celebrate with you," "Can’t go back today anyway, fight till dawn," and other nonsensical words.
Yang Ge couldn’t be bothered with them, nodded at Li Qing who was sitting by the door watching the rain, then opened his oil-paper umbrella and stepped into the boundless curtain of rain.
Li Qing watched him leave, and after a moment, his seemingly casual pupils suddenly shrank...
He noticed that with each step Yang Ge took, before his foot hit the ground, the rainwater flowing across the street would automatically part in all directions, and there wasn’t a single drop of rain hitting the surface of the oil-paper umbrella he was holding.
In the boundless curtain of rain, he appeared to be in a world of his own!
Li Qing involuntarily held his breath, his gaze tightly following Yang Ge’s receding figure, until Yang Ge completely disappeared in the rain. He then slowly exhaled a turbid breath, his emotions surging as he whispered to himself, "Such detachment, such assimilation with the light!"
He was aware of the huge gap between himself and Yang Erlang.
But he had thought that this gap was merely that between a forerunner and a follower...
He had been confident that he could soon catch up to Yang Erlang’s pace!
However, the more he interacted with him, the clearer he felt Yang Ge’s strength!
And his confidence was fading away with each passing day...
The strength of Yang Erlang was not that of a mountain or a river!
No matter how high a mountain, there is still a path across it.
No matter how fast a river, there is still a boat to cross it.
But Yang Erlang’s strength was not openly boastful, nor easily perceived. From afar it seemed there might be a method to it, as though it was within reach, but up close it was all obscurity and out of reach.
If one had to compare, Yang Erlang’s strength was like a drifting iceberg at sea, seemingly trivial from a distance, only to realize upon collision that what was seen was just the tip of the iceberg...
But clearly, he did not engage in meditative practices and training every other day like other unparalleled Grandmasters, did he?
Could it be that this fellow outwardly wasted his days idly with them, screaming and shouting, while secretly, he was diligently practicing behind everyone’s backs?
Li Qing was baffled, feeling that he should not be anxious, that he needed to observe more, much more...
"Slurp."
Zhao Cha came out with a large bowl of steaming pig’s heart soup, glanced down the long street following Li Qing’s gaze, and asked casually, "Taoist priest, when will you have a spar with Erlang? Can I watch when you do?"
Li Qing:...
...
"Boom."
A heavy thud, like rolling thunder, echoed under the gloomy sky.
Yang Ge stopped in his tracks, furrowing his brows as he glanced in the direction the sound came from, protecting the bamboo basket close to his chest, and muttered lowly, "Anytime but now, why must it be now that you disturb..."
He quickened his pace towards the Liu family’s home, and after only a few steps, another loud bang rang out from behind him, and this time it seemed to be getting closer to Luting County.
He muttered annoyedly, "Enough already, if you keep this up, I’m going to get angry!"
He had watched over the fire and stewed the pig’s heart soup for an hour, and it had taken quite some effort...
He looked around, saw no one, leaped several meters high, and sped straight towards the Liu family’s residence, taking large strides.
"Bang..."
The sound, like explosives blasting through a mountain, sounded again, and the entire city seemed to tremble with the roar.
Many of the residents sheltering from the rain in Luting County curiously stuck their heads out, wondering, "The thunder sounds as if it’s striking the rooftops..."
Yang Ge’s figure came to a halt atop the eaves of a multi-story building.
He slowly lowered the oil-paper umbrella he held, his expression dark as water, and he muttered under his breath, "Giving you face and you don’t want it, huh?"
The next second, a bright flash of a knife, like lightning, slashed through the curtain of rain, heading straight for Yang Ge.
Yang Ge threw the oil-paper umbrella away, accurately catching the approaching Cold Moon Blade with one hand, producing a dazzling streak of light. He moved as swiftly as a startled swan, rushing towards the source of the roaring sound.
A few breaths later, Yang Ge’s figure landed in the open fields outside the east gate of the city.
To his left stood a towering figure in purple clothes, with white hair and beard, and a black iron mask on his face. This imposing figure was unarmed, his presence as majestic as a mountain, yet one of his hands was dripping blood profusely.
```