blogombal Page 45
Page 45
Moreover, his foundation was as solid as a rock, without any sense of flimsiness.
Zhang Yunyuan stood up, feeling the surging power within him, his eyes gleaming with confidence.
If he were to face the elders of those so-called prestigious sects now, he would probably be able to truly annihilate them with a mere laugh.
He bowed solemnly once again to the stone statue, whose luster had faded.
"Thank you for your kindness, fairy."
After saying that, he didn't linger and turned to walk out of the valley.
Chapter 52 The Birth of a Mischievous Child, Turbulence Rises Again
Zhang Yunyuan walked out of Zhongnan Mountain.
The autumn outside the mountains was even more intense than when he entered, with a cold wind blowing and swirling up a sky full of withered yellow leaves.
He looked up at the sky and did some mental calculations.
The seasons seemed to be changing much faster than he had expected.
He felt that he had only been in seclusion for a few days in that secret realm, but the outside world was clearly in late autumn and approaching winter, at least several months had passed.
He found a small, populated town and sat down in a teahouse.
The teahouse was noisy and bustling with all sorts of people, making it a good place to gather information.
He had barely sat down when several men at the next table, dressed in tight-fitting clothes and clearly dressed as supernatural beings, began to whisper among themselves.
"Have you heard? A formidable and ruthless character has recently emerged in the martial arts world."
"You mean that 'bad boy' from Quanxing?"
"Absolutely! That kid is a complete madman!"
One of the men said, his voice even lower, still shaken.
“My cousin is from the Huashan Sect. I saw it with my own eyes a few days ago. That kid was blocking the entrance to the Huashan Sect all by himself, and he specifically asked to challenge their senior brother from the younger generation.”
"The results of it?"
Those around him quickly pressed for answers.
"And the result? The senior disciple of the Huashan Sect, whose 'Hun Yuan Gong' was mastered to perfection and ranked among the best of the younger generation, couldn't even last three moves against that kid!"
The man's face was full of disbelief as he spoke.
"The strangest thing is that his senior brother was ultimately injured by his own Hunyuan Gong! The force reversed, almost destroying his own meridians!"
"Hiss... This method is too bizarre."
"Who can argue with that? Everyone says that kid inherited his master's true skills and mastered Ghost Hand King's 'Reversing Eight Directions' evil technique, which is specifically designed to counter our orthodox internal martial arts!"
Zhang Yunyuan paused slightly in the hand holding the teacup.
He continued listening without showing any emotion.
"If you ask me, I can't blame that kid for going crazy."
Another, slightly older man sighed and took over the conversation.
"Didn't the Ghost Hand King of Quanxing die of illness a few months ago? I heard that the old devil loved his disciple named Li Muxuan the most when he was alive."
"When the old devil was around, he could keep him in check and prevent him from running wild. Now that the old devil is dead, this kid has lost his last bit of restraint, so isn't he just like a wild horse that has broken free?"
"In addition, given his background, he was ostracized by the righteous sects from a young age, which fueled his resentment. Now that his skills have reached a high level, he naturally wants to take revenge for all the grievances he has suffered over the years."
In Zhang Yunyuan's mind, the image of that arrogant and unruly young man with aloof eyes appeared on Yinghe Tower seven years ago.
It turns out that so much time has passed.
He knew it.
Gao Gen betrayed his master and joined the Quanxing Sect.
Li Muxuan's infamous reputation grew rapidly, and he joined the Quanxing Sect, beginning to challenge the righteous path.
Those who will one day shake the world have begun to step onto the stage of history.
The curtain has already been raised on this chaotic era.
In Sichuan, at Mount Qingcheng.
As a famous Taoist mountain, this place has always been a place for quiet spiritual practice.
But today, the Qingcheng Sect's training ground was packed with people, and the atmosphere was terrifyingly oppressive.
In the center of the arena, a young man dressed in a black short-sleeved shirt stood with his hands behind his back.
His face was cold and his eyes were arrogant; it was Li Muxuan.
Opposite him, a young disciple dressed in a Qingcheng Sect Taoist robe was kneeling on the ground, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his face as pale as paper, and his arm holding the sword was trembling uncontrollably.
He was the most outstanding disciple of the Qingcheng Sect in this generation, and his mastery of the "Qingcheng Sword Technique" was superb, earning him a renowned reputation among the younger generation.
But just now, he didn't even touch the hem of Li Muxuan's clothes.
His prized, lightning-fast sword was forcibly twisted and deflected by an invisible force just three feet in front of his opponent.
Every thrust of his sword ultimately returned to himself at an even more cunning and ruthless angle.
If he hadn't had a solid foundation and quick reflexes, he would probably have already been pierced through several holes by his own sword.
Even so, the reversed sword energy had already damaged his meridians.
"This is the Qingcheng Sect?"
Li Muxuan spoke slowly, his voice not loud, but carrying a chilling contempt that clearly reached the ears of every Qingcheng disciple present.
"If you can't even control your own sword, how dare you call yourselves a reputable sect?"
The disciple was both anxious and furious, and his blood rushed to his head, causing him to spit out another mouthful of blood.
"You fiend! Cease your arrogance!"
At the edge of the training ground, an elder from the Qingcheng Sect finally lost his temper, shouted angrily, and was about to leave the arena.
Li Muxuan didn't even lift his eyelids, only giving him a cold glance.
"If the younger ones can't win, the older ones have to step in?"
His gaze swept over the indignant Qingcheng disciples around him, and a mocking smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
"Or is it that your Qingcheng Sect's rule is to bully the weak with numbers and use a war of attrition?"
The elder was speechless, his face turning red with embarrassment, unsure whether to advance or retreat.
Li Muxuan ignored them.
He looked at his opponent on the ground, who couldn't even stand up, shook his head, and his face was full of disappointment.
"It's boring."
He left those two words behind and turned to leave.
That proud, aloof figure walked further and further away under the angry yet fearful gazes of all the Qingcheng disciples.
Just left.
They came like the wind and left like lightning.
At the gates of the Qingcheng School, a famous Taoist mountain, they casually crippled their most outstanding disciple of the generation, and then left unscathed.
What remained was a scene of utter devastation and a profound disgrace to a sect.
After this battle, Li Muxuan's fearsome reputation as a "wicked child" spread throughout the entire world of supernatural beings.
He was like a peerless, deadly blade unsheathed, beginning to stir up wave after wave of bloodshed and carnage in this seemingly peaceful martial arts world.
A teahouse in a small town in Shanxi.
Zhang Yunyuan put down his teacup, shutting out the discussions of the strange people at the next table, along with the bleak autumn wind outside the window, from his heart.
He got up, left a few copper coins on the table, and walked out of the teahouse.
On the street, pedestrians hurried by, their brows bearing a unique sorrow and numbness characteristic of chaotic times.
Eight years have passed since he left the mountain. Years of travel and exploration have brought about tremendous changes in Zhang Yunyuan's strength and state of mind, and his longing for his sect and fellow disciples has grown stronger day by day.
He decided to return to Longhu Mountain first.
Chapter 53 Returning like an arrow
Leaving the secluded Zhongnan Mountain and embarking on his journey home, Zhang Yunyuan truly grasped the weight of the words "chaotic world."
The secret realm is a fairyland where spring lasts all year round, with birds singing, flowers blooming, and a spiritual atmosphere.
Beyond the secret realm lay a desolate land, withered vines and old trees.
Along the official road, a long line of refugees with their families stretched as far as the eye could see, their faces numb with hunger and despair.
Along the roadside ditches, one can often see carelessly discarded bones, long since gnawed beyond recognition by wild dogs.
The air was filled with a complex odor, a mixture of gunpowder, decay, and blood, which made one's chest feel tight.
This contrasts sharply with the seven days he spent in the blessed land, which felt like another world.
He had witnessed too many partings and deaths, and his heart had long been hardened.
But at this moment, the emotion called "longing" became stronger than ever before.
He missed the refreshing pine breezes on Longhu Mountain, the familiar atmosphere of the Celestial Master's Mansion, his master's teachings, and the lively chatter of his fellow disciples.
After several days of tireless trekking, when the familiar outline of the immortal mountain, which resembled a giant dragon coiled on the earth, finally appeared on the horizon, Zhang Yunyuan's tense nerves finally relaxed a little.
He slowed his pace, straightened his somewhat disheveled Taoist robe, and walked step by step toward the mountain gate.
The two young disciples guarding the mountain were idly chatting while leaning against the stone lions beside the mountain gate.
Upon seeing someone approaching, they instinctively straightened their posture.
When they saw the person's face clearly, both of them were stunned.
This young Taoist priest looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen years old. His face was excessively handsome, and his eyes and brows carried an otherworldly aloofness that made people afraid to look directly at him.