The morning mist gave way to another day of Lin Zhao’s diligent fist practice.
Soon, the sunlight dispelled the clouds, casting a peculiar grace upon Lin Zhao’s silhouette. Though he was practicing martial arts, his movements flowed like water, resembling a landscape painting. Such an aura was unheard of in other martial artists. Chen Wanli and Long Dongjun, at the Rebirth realm, possessed domineering and murderous auras from their cultivation. Lin Zhao’s fist intent, however, carried a Confucian artistic conception. It wasn’t that his fists lacked power, but rather they were more measured and aesthetically pleasing.
Alas, he couldn't even reach the threshold of a first-realm martial artist.
He suppressed the impatience in his heart. Regardless, persistent practice was always the right approach. As for why he couldn't return to the path of martial arts, the reason likely wasn’t his own fault.
“Young Master.”
Behind him, Dong Cang’s voice chimed in. She walked over with a basket. These days, Lin Zhao didn't return to Tianran Ju for lunch, so Dong Cang brought him food.
“Dong Cang, you’re here!” Lin Zhao said with a smile.
“Mm.”
Dong Cang spoke little, merely placing a plate of five-spice beef, a roasted chicken, a large bowl of white fish soup, and two jars of wine on the flat stone behind Lin Zhao. This stone had been expertly smoothed by an edge from Shu Zhi’s sword. Dong Cang then descended the mountain, not wishing to disturb Lin Zhao’s practice. Lin Zhao wasn’t hungry yet, so he continued to perform another set of the Farmer’s Nine Fists. His fist intent was potent, but without any true qi, it lacked substantial power, possessing only the form.
It felt as if his meridians for circulating true qi were blocked.
“Jiji~~~”
Shortly, sharp cries echoed from the cliff ahead. Lin Zhao paused slightly, then saw the leaves by the cliff swaying. A white ape hung from a tree, chattering at Lin Zhao, as if mocking his clumsy fist techniques.
He frowned but paid it no mind, continuing his practice.
Just then, sounds of “Ouch, ouch” came from the cliff’s edge. An old man with white hair and beard, clinging to rocks, scaled the cliff. His face was flushed, and he was panting heavily. He placed the basket of herbs behind him on the mountaintop and sank down, gasping like an ox. He glanced at Lin Zhao.
“…”
Lin Zhao was somewhat surprised. The summit of the mountain where the Villa of the Peak resided was an abyss on the other side. This old man must be a herb collector. How had he gotten up here? Remarkable! Moreover, the white ape on the tree seemed to recognize the old physician. It plucked a fruit from the tree and tossed it over. The old physician caught it, took a bite, and spat, his teeth nearly souring.
The next moment, the old physician sniffed the air vigorously. He caught the scent of the five-spice beef, roasted chicken, and white fish soup on the stone, along with a rich aroma of wine. It smelled quite good.
The wine Dong Cang brought was homemade. Han Yurou, a peach blossom spirit, brewed peach blossom wine in Copper Mirror Lake. Dong Cang, being an apricot spirit, also gathered wild fruits from the mountains and brewed several jars of apricot blossom wine, which naturally had an exceptional flavor. However, Dong Cang was busy going up and down the mountain daily, cleaning the rooms of Lin Zhao’s Tianran Ju, Shu Zhi, Chu Yu, and Tong Yu. She was already working hard, so Lin Zhao was reluctant to ask for too much apricot blossom wine, lest it overwork her.
“Young man…”
The old physician’s expression was somewhat hesitant, as if he had never seen such things before. “I heard the villagers say that those living on the eastern side of this mountain are immortals. Could you… be one of the immortals from the legendary Villa of the Peak?”
“Ah?”
Lin Zhao felt a little awkward and scratched his head. “Old sir, how could I be an immortal? You saw me practicing just now. I haven’t even reached the introductory level. Wasn’t that white ape of yours constantly mocking me?”
The white ape chattered loudly, clapped its hands at Lin Zhao, then hopped, patting its backside as if to say, “You look like you’re performing for monkeys.”
“…”
The air grew still. Lin Zhao truly wished he could draw his sword and give it a go.
“Ahem…”
The old physician said, “Young man, don’t be angry. More than ten years ago, when I was collecting herbs on the mountain, I saw a white monkey fall from a tree and break its leg bone. I took it home and treated its injury. I’m a lonely old man with no family, so I kept it. Who knew this wretched monkey, not understanding its place, would cause trouble in the village every day, disliked by everyone? I suppose when it fell, it didn’t just break its leg; its brain might have been damaged too.”
“I think so too!”
Lin Zhao heartily agreed.
The old physician looked at the delicious food again and swallowed hard. It was truly brazen!
“Old sir.”
Lin Zhao pretended not to notice and smiled, “Are you a physician who collects herbs?”
“Mm.”
The old physician smiled. “It’s a family trade. When villagers have headaches, colds, or sprains, I help them. We mountain folk don’t have much money, and the demon and ghost tribes from the north often come into the mountains to harm people. There’s nothing I can do but collect herbs myself. Some rare medicinal ingredients grow in treacherous peaks. So… I’ve been climbing higher these past few days and accidentally reached the place where the mountain immortals reside. Young man, you must be an outer disciple of the Villa of the Peak. Please don’t blame me, and please don’t tell the Mountain Lord, or my head will be forfeit. I hear the sword immortals on the mountain can sever heads with a single strike…”
Lin Zhao was torn between laughter and tears. “Understood, old sir.”
The old physician looked at the roasted chicken again and swallowed hard, his expression awkward. “I’ve been in the mountains for several days collecting herbs and haven’t eaten properly. All the flatbread I brought is gone…”
“Understood.”
Lin Zhao smiled, walked to the stone, and gently pushed all the food forward. “Old sir, please eat. I’m not hungry yet. If I get hungry, I can go down the mountain and eat at home.”
“Then… then this old man won’t stand on ceremony?!”
“Mm!”
The next moment, Lin Zhao witnessed what it meant to not stand on ceremony. The old physician, like a starving ghost reincarnated, grabbed the roasted chicken with one hand and bit off its tail. He then shoved a piece of five-spice beef into his mouth, picked up the white fish soup bowl and gulped down a large mouthful, and then lifted a jar of apricot blossom wine to his mouth, drinking half of it in one go. His mouth remained open, his throat bobbing as he downed the wine.
The white ape sat down opposite the old physician, snatched a chicken leg, and stuffed it into its mouth.
“Get lost!”
The old physician, quick as lightning, snatched the chicken leg back and shoved it into his own mouth, chewing vigorously and mumbling, “You’re a monkey, you can eat wild fruits and leaves. What reason does a monkey have to eat meat!”
The white ape was furious. It jumped up and slapped the old physician’s head. The old physician paid no mind, continuing to eat voraciously, monopolizing two dishes and a soup, while the white ape, in its rage, grabbed a jar of apricot blossom wine and poured it into its mouth.
“…”
Lin Zhao couldn’t bear to watch anymore. Truly, were these mountain folk who had never tasted good food?
He decided to ignore it and continued practicing his fists.
…
After a while, the old physician was full and satisfied. He sat on the stone, picking his teeth with a bamboo twig, and watched Lin Zhao practice. He couldn’t help but give a thumbs-up and say, “Young man, your fist practice is truly spectacular. That punch down could kill a tiger!”
The white ape chattered with laughter, clapped its hands, then stood on its head and clapped with its feet.
Lin Zhao wished he could punch it to death. This monkey’s brain must have been damaged when it was young. It seemed quite ill.
After watching for a while, the old physician grew tired. He tidied the precious herbs in his bamboo basket, then lay on the stone to sleep. As dusk approached, he got up, saying, “Oh dear, oh dear, it’s getting dark. Young man, I’m going down the mountain back to the village. If I’m any later, I might be carried away by the wolves in the mountains.”
“Mm, alright.”
Lin Zhao walked to the edge of the cliff and watched the old physician cautiously depart. The annoying white ape had already begun swinging like a trapeze artist among the rocks.
In the evening, Dong Cang arrived again. Seeing the empty plates, she exclaimed in surprise, “Young Master ate so cleanly today?”
Lin Zhao couldn’t explain much, so he smiled awkwardly. “Martial artists practice fists, so it’s normal to eat more.”
“Alright, I’ll bring more next time.”
“Mm, thank you for your hard work, Dong Cang.”
“You’re welcome.”
Dong Cang went down the mountain. Lin Zhao, tired from practicing, sat on the stone, took out a piece of bread he bought from the system store, and ate it with a pot of wine. Afterward, he sat on the stone to nurture his sword intent and hone his swordsmanship. He couldn’t neglect sword practice just because he was practicing fists. If he wanted to cultivate both, they had to be complementary.
…
Late at night.
Furong State, Wangxin Lake, Lingyan Sword Sect.
In an elegant courtyard, moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating a face of stunning beauty. As she slept, her red lips pursed, her brow furrowed at times, and she gnashed her teeth occasionally.
In her dream, she was being pursued by a twelfth-realm great demon. No matter how hard she tried, even using all three of her natal flying swords, she couldn't gain the upper hand. Instead, the great demon smashed two of her natal flying swords with a single punch and kicked her off a cliff, laughing boisterously, “Chen Mengjun, you are truly useless. You can’t save yourself, nor can you save others!”
Falling, Chen Mengjun suddenly landed in a vast marsh. She saw a sword cultivator wearing a bamboo hat, drifting on a lake. He gently lifted his hat, revealing an incredibly handsome face and a smile he thought was quite charming. “Fairy Chen, do you remember the dashing swordsman from Chun’an City? My name is Lin Feng!!”
“Ah?!”
Chen Mengjun was stunned.
The next moment, the wind picked up, blowing off the swordsman’s bamboo hat, revealing his completely bald head, which reflected an eerie gleam in the moonlight.
The swordsman covered his face and fled.
Chen Mengjun suddenly awoke. She sat up on the bed, her delicate brows furrowed. That bald swordsman in her dream… she had indeed seen him once outside Chun’an City. She had asked him for directions at the time. He had acted like an idiot, as if he wanted to say something to her but found it difficult to articulate. It was strange, though, why would someone like that appear in her dream?
She could no longer sleep. She got up, put on her outer skirt, and walked out of the small building with her sword. Looking at the moonlight to the north, her heart felt empty. She was clearly thinking of only one person, yet why couldn’t she dream of him? Could it be that her name truly reflected her fate: “Wei Meng Xian Ren Bu Meng Jun” (Only Dreaming of Others, Not of You)?
I am thinking of him, will he also think of me?
Chen Mengjun pursed her red lips, a beautiful blush spreading across her pretty face.