Wang Anfeng felt as if he were in a dream.
The gentle medicinal power rose from within his chest and abdomen, then spread to his limbs and bones, shaking and diffusing through every vein and vessel in his body, cleansing and invigorating them, strengthening his muscles and bones, augmenting his inner strength.
Throughout his cultivation until now, he had exercised his inner strength daily in Copper Man Lane, frequently sparring with martial artists of the same level or even stronger, and had also wandered alone through mountainous and wild lands, facing life-and-death crises countless times. His resolve had become far superior to his peers; what he really lacked was merely the accumulation of inner strength.
Now, even though the inner strength within his body surged violently, it did not exceed his control and remained extremely stable, circulating slowly and steadily along the pathways of the second barrier of the Golden Bell Shield.
The Golden Bell Shield of Shaolin was an orthodox Buddhist martial arts technique, cultivating inner strength that was extremely pure. Unintentionally, Wang Anfeng's cultivation matched the principles of the No-Self Aspect and the No Other Aspect of Buddhism. Without actively attempting to break through the barriers, the acupuncture points that served as checkpoints melted away like snow in the springtime—slowly, yet silently disappearing.
The sky beyond was already faintly showing the pale light of dawn.
The scholar who had been watching over him all night sensed the inner strength that gradually surged from Wang Anfeng's body. His expression cleared with realization, knowing that the breakthrough was now a matter of course, with no problems remaining. But at that moment, a twisted expression of pain unexpectedly appeared on the young man's otherwise calm face.
The violent power of thunder emerged upon him, growing more and more tremendous, aggressively devouring the medicinal power within the young man's body, expanding continuously. In almost an instant, it enveloped Anfeng completely, obfuscating his figure from even the three protectors, Ci, who could no longer clearly see the youth's features.
Mr. Ying's expression was momentarily startled, then became extremely grim. He raised his hand to capture that streak of thunder vigor, but just then, the thunder vigor suddenly retracted inward, entering Wang Anfeng's body. Ci's three protectors, mindful not to harm Anfeng at this critical juncture of his breakthrough, stopped their already extended hands mid-air.
Ci composed his turbulent inner breath, recognizing the somewhat familiar sensation of thunder vigor, he looked at the scholar beside him, hesitatingly asked,
The scholar nodded, recalling the rampant thunder that had resounded over Shaolin Temple that day, his complexion somewhat unsightly.
At that moment, a blood-red dragon shadow suddenly emerged on the youth's body.
Raising its head, it let out a long howl, full of fierce resentment and unwillingness. It struggled incessantly, entangled by the thunder, which desperately tried pulling the ghostly, blood-red dragon shadow from Anfeng's body without success. Just as all seemed nearly lost, the scholar noticed something amiss, he grasped his palm and summoned the spirit of the surrounding world.
Suddenly, the color of Heaven and Earth changed.
Clouds inverted, transmuting into a rushing tide of vital energy, pouring into the thunder vigor. The energy within grew more masculine and pure, transforming into a dragon that roared majestically. It completely extracted the blood-red dragon shadow from Wang Anfeng's body, dispelling the remnants of resentment with the masculine power of the thunder, utterly vanishing from the world, leaving behind only a trace of essence drifting away.
Wu Changqing reached for a strand of resentful energy and noticed the uniqueness within it, his expression subtly changed as he asked,
"This... Dragon Qi backlash, how could Anfeng have such a thing in him?"
Mr. Ying withdrew his hand, his face slightly pale, and fell silent for a moment before saying,
Between Heaven and Earth, the remnants of the thunder vigor gradually merged. Perhaps because it had always been inside Wang Anfeng, it slowly regathered around the young man, though no longer able to enter his body, just revolving and lingering beside him, seemingly transforming into the silhouette of an old man.
The breath of the thunder passed through the black hair, as if the old man's hand gently touched the top of the young man's head. Then, it slowly dissipated. Its pure essence resonated in the hearts of Ci, Wu Changqing, and the others, who were cultivators of great attainment.
The pure vital energy nurtured all living things.
Beside the young man, strange flowers bloomed one after another, their colors a mix of blue and purple, reminiscent of heavenly thunder.
Mr. Ying watched this scene, narrowing his eyes as he spoke out. The tone of his voice unusually free from sarcasm, he said,
"But I knew that if it weren't for a supreme martial artist in the world who didn't mind damaging his own martial arts foundation and used pure Thunder Vigor every day to cleanse his marrow and unblock his channels... he would definitely have not lived past seven."
That day in Great Liang Village, the scholar didn't often look out at the outside world due to his concerns about Li Qidao's presence.
However, it was evident that before Wang Anfeng left, the elder must have infused him with enough Thunder Vigor to suppress the crimson dragon shadow for a long while, ensuring that the backlash within him wouldn't erupt violently before he felt at ease to let him leave, to let him experience the outside world.
Looking into the distance that day, the exuberant young man might not have known that, for his desire to see the world, an elder greatly depleted his vital energy. Even though the depletion was severe, the elder was still elated as he watched his figure gradually disappear into the distance.
The image of a figure emerged in the scholar's mind, and he muttered to himself in a low voice.
Do you realize that by doing this once, your life's cultivation will be diminished... if he had never had this opportunity to practice martial arts, you would have to channel sixty years' worth of Thunder Vigor if he lived to sixty. You would never hope for a higher realm again, self-damaging both your foundation and lifespan.
Thunder Vigor naturally wouldn't answer him, but in most matters, actions speak far louder than grandiose words or dreams.
Since ancient times, actions have outweighed words.
And just like the memory of that person, what was said and done were utterly contradictory...
Thoughts shifted, and the scholar's emotions suddenly grew heavy.
The sun rose quietly, casting a non-dazzling glow upon the earth.
Wang Anfeng slowly opened his eyes, feeling an unprecedented sense of invigoration enveloping him. It was as though all the heavy chains that seemed to have been burdening him since birth were now shattered. His thoughts were quicker, and his inner strength flowed like the grand Yangtze River—torrential and unending within his meridians.
He couldn't help but leap up and let out a long howl. The sound was clear and piercing, splitting gold and shattering stone, like a dragon chanting over great marshes, lingering on far and wide.
Wu Changqing and the other two possessed peerless martial arts and could see at a glance that the young man's originally suppressed and backlashed talent by the dragon qi was now fully displayed. His qi channels were vast, and his Zhou Tian's circulation unending—a rare martial arts talent, like a piece of exquisite jade.
The long howl finally ceased, and the young man stood up. At this moment, he had broken through all the barriers of the second level of the Golden Bell Shield. All he needed was to stabilize for a period of time before naturally advancing to the third level of the Golden Bell Shield—the Eighth Rank realm of martial arts—a sense of jubilation arising in his heart.
Only then did he notice that the surroundings were no longer within the Shaolin Temple and that his three masters were in front, with the morning dew staining their garments. With a brief contemplation in his heart, he guessed they had been protecting him and hastened to greet his masters. His peripheral vision caught the purplish blue flowers, and his steps paused briefly as a strange sense of familiarity arose in him.
In his mind, the figure of an unorthodox elder surfaced, holding a wine jug in one hand while roughly ruffling his black hair with the other—completely ignoring his resistance and laughing heartily.
The youth's expression softened.
I wonder how Uncle Li is doing... We used to meet nearly every day, and it's been almost a year since I left Great Liang Village. Did he eat regularly? Did he drink less? Does he still love meat as much? Did he wash his clothes on time? Would he be bored, lonely? Does he still love to tell stories?
If he knew that my cultivation had reached the Eighth Rank, he would probably be delighted.
Remembering the elder's joyful laughter, the corners of the young man's mouth couldn't help but turn up.
If Uncle Li is happy,