The injuries on Wang Anfeng's body primarily occurred in the Western Regions of Loulan, where he forcefully drew upon his Qi to battle against eight thousand riders, slaying three thousand of them. Under Wu Changqing's care these past few days, he has recovered by eighty to ninety percent. The remaining traces of his injuries, however, aren't easily mended with medicine and stones. It would be better if he could recuperate naturally.
The vastness of Heaven and Earth, Wang Anfeng rides an ordinary horse, slowly advancing forward.
In the Western Regions and in the Central Plains, one is unable to see such a pure blue sky.
The grasslands rise and fall; in the far distance, faint outlines of glaciers can be seen, an expanse of icy and snowy landscape.
That mountain is the sacred mountain of the Northern Frontier, known in the Central Plains as Jade Pot Snow Mountain. As the glaciers melt, they cascade down the mountain, flowing through the entire grasslands of the Northern Region, becoming the Holy River. Among the Northern Hun, many poems celebrating heroes and the snow mountain river are sung, grand and unrestrained.
The black horse trots alongside the river.
Wang Anfeng's eyes slightly close, and with each breath, the Qi mechanism naturally cycles.
The Middle Third Rank seeks a harmony of will; at this moment, his Qi rises mightily, seemingly without limits or barriers. In a state of effortless breath control, Heaven and Earth are one with him, transcending the self in the Taoist Sect's Boundary of No-Self, attaining a state of calm within Buddhism akin to Zen cultivation, untainted by worldly concerns.
With each cycle of Qi, he ascends the heavenly ladder step by step.
With each thought, he breathes his way onto Kunlun.
Having experienced countless unimaginable battles, his state of mind has become profoundly resolute. Unless an extraordinary master willingly lowers themselves to debate with him and personally proves the Tao, his realm will face no hesitation in the short term. His actions and killings are as clear as a bright mirror.
The so-called transition from Fourth Rank to Third Rank, the gateway that blocks many small grandmasters in the world, has already been opened.
As long as he desires, with a single step he can cause the winds to rise and clouds to surge, becoming a bona fide grandmaster.
Yet, this realm, which countless people dream about day and night, he merely hesitated at the threshold before stepping back, sitting calmly on his horse, leisurely moving forward.
He has understood that if the Middle Third Rank is about comprehending Heaven and Earth.
Then the Upper Third Rank seeks not Heaven and Earth, but oneself.
Thus, when a single word is spoken, it is the law of Heaven and Earth.
Thus, between five fingers, karma and effect revolve.
Not reaching such a realm, what point is there in stepping through the gateway?
If one reaches such a realm, then what is the so-called gateway, anyway?
This tranquil state is disrupted by the sound of hoofbeats.
Wang Anfeng opens his eyes and sees in the distance across the river, a hundred riders with colorful flags coming this way.
Then, seemingly noticing Wang Anfeng slowly advancing, a dozen or so riders break off to gallop towards Wang Anfeng. The horsemen, broad-shouldered Xiongnu men, aren't clad in heavy armor; they carry strong bows, and a quiver hangs by the saddle, part of a mounted archery unit.
After approaching, they form a circle around Wang Anfeng, their horses' hooves pounding the ground with a muffled sound like thunder.
The leading Xiongnu pulls the reins tight, halting his horse. His black hair is braided into locks and combed with copper rings, resembling a lion's mane. He shakes his head, the copper rings clinking together noisily.
He swings his horsewhip, frowning as he blocks Wang Anfeng, shouting loudly:
"What is your name? Which tribe are you from?! Why are you here?"
"Don't you know that you can't pass through here freely today? Hmm?!"
"If you offend a noble, how many heads do you have to cut off?"
Wang Anfeng's expression remains unchanged, responding calmly:
"I am a child of the grassland, the Heaven and Earth are my tent, the snow mountain is my view, where can I not go?"
He came out this time because according to Mr. Ying, he couldn't remain at the Shaolin Temple for too long, or else he might be adversely affected. Furthermore, Qibi Heliao seemed soon to arrive, so it was best for him to come out early to meet him. Thıs content belongs to novelꜰire.net
That is the tribe of Tuoba Yue, whom he saved back when he was still at Fufeng Academy.
He had given the latter a martial arts manual; afterwards, this obstinate person from the Kingdom of Che Shi served him loyally. Yet in the following years, he secluded himself in the mountains and forests, and it was always Mr. Ying who relayed his tasks.
As it stands, this is his first time actively reaching out to the latter since then.
In these four or five years, Qibi Heliao left the Kingdom of Che Shi and also lived by herding, conveniently serving as his disguise.
He hadn't expected to encounter trouble ahead of schedule. In normal circumstances, with his Qi mechanism and the resonance of the divine weapon Heavenly Secrets, he could have retreated before any contact. However, having earlier entered the thoughtless and unconcerned state, while his Qi flowed harmoniously, it was less alert than before, preventing him from proactively detecting the other party.
At this point, it was best to avoid conflict with them.
He had already changed into the leather clothing commonly worn by the Northern Hun. Since he had previously provoked a grandmaster, he was unsure if the local grandmasters had any means of recognizing his disguise, which came from Mr. Ying, not his own cultivation technique.
The mask was thin as a cicada's wing, a rare treasure even in the Jianghu of the Central Plains.
Uncertain whether it reflected Mr. Ying's particular taste, the mask bestowed upon him an aura of elegance and expansiveness. Wearing the robes of the Northern Frontier, a blue sash tied around his waist, inserting a short knife and two daggers, he appeared bold and charismatic, more impressive than before.
The burly man was momentarily stunned upon hearing this, scrutinizing him suspiciously up and down. He ordered his subordinates to maintain the encirclement before quickly returning to the hundred riders.
The hundred riders parted like water, and Wang Anfeng saw three people beneath the noble banners at the forefront. The leader was still dressed in steppe clothing, while the woman beside him wore silk from the Central Plains.