Volume One: The Turmoil of Yan and Yun Chapter Four: Unknown

Yun Changqing had thought that Feng Yang’s combat prowess would be the most astonishing thing today, yet only two hours later, something even more shocking emerged.

The Ten Severed Meridians? Even someone as unlearned as he was knew what that meant.

The Dao Yuan Continent was teeming with geniuses, most of whom possessed unique constitutions. Take, for example, the Windflow Ranking: its top candidate, Feng Qi, bore the Dao Spirit Body, perfectly aligned with the Dao itself; the second, Dugu Zhe, carried the purest True Dragon bloodline; the sixth, Murong Chen Zhang, had the exceedingly rare Exquisite Body... Of all the powerful physiques on the ranking, there were no less than eighty, if not a hundred, and across the continent, countless more.

Strictly speaking, the Ten Severed Meridians was also a unique constitution—only, it was a crippled one.

Those born with this body had meridians that were extraordinarily tough but fatally clogged, as if a market road was so jammed that not even a pedestrian could squeeze through, let alone a vehicle.

For such people, the road on market day was like their meridians, and the world’s vital energy, the vehicles. Absorbing heaven and earth’s energy was nearly impossible. Without it, one could not form a Yuan Palace. Even if, by some miracle, they did, the energy could never flow through the meridians to activate acupoints as it would for others. Breaking the body’s shackles and entering the Awakening realm was thus impossible. Failing to reach Awakening meant the spirit could not guide starlight into the body, and without that, one could never become a Luminant, let alone achieve higher realms.

Since the Great Tang Dynasty thousands of years ago, how many millions bore this constitution? But among them, only one left his name in the annals of history.

Wei Sanmu.

Sanmu, as in “penetrating to the core,” as in “transplanting flowers onto withered wood,” and as in “dry wood meeting spring.”

He was the Tang’s mightiest, the pinnacle of human martial achievement before the Old Sovereign, and the first in history to ascend.

That Feng Yang... should share his constitution—Yun Changqing could not say if this was a blessing or a curse.

“If another could do it, so can Yang’er,” Feng Qi ruffled Feng Yang’s hair. “Aside from me, there is none Yang’er is inferior to—even Wei Sanmu.”

His expression was calm, his eyes untroubled, as if discussing the coming of spring after winter—utterly matter-of-fact.

Yet this was hardly so simple.

Feng Yang might only be second to you, but even you cannot compare with Wei Sanmu.

In tens of thousands of years on the Daochen Continent, none—be it the Old Sovereign or the Demon Emperor—dared claim superiority over Wei Sanmu.

Yun Changqing always knew Feng Qi was supremely confident, but he had still underestimated the extent.

He couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh. “You know, you’re supposed to be a genius who’s read the Dao Canon cover to cover. Could you think before you speak?”

Feng Qi gave him a curious glance. “How am I not thinking?”

Yun Changqing pressed on. “The Ten Severed Meridians! Do you really know what that means?”

Feng Qi raised his brows and retorted, “Are you quizzing me? A genius who mastered the Dao Canon by ten and brought the Overlord Spear to perfection by twelve?”

Yun Changqing conceded defeat.

Feng Qi smiled smugly, hands behind his head, and sauntered into his tent.

Feng Yang, who had only poked his head out, retreated in a flash.

Soon, only Yun Changqing remained by the fire. Bored, he poked at the flames, debating whether to report what he’d just learned to his family.

After a long while, he still couldn’t decide. Sighing, he turned into his own tent.

The night passed uneventfully.

...

The next day, Feng Qi and his companions arrived at Tong Pass.

Feng Qi made a decision that took everyone by surprise.

He first visited the city garrison, enjoyed a long, luxurious bath, and then, to the astonishment of all, entered the largest tavern in the city, picked the best seat, ordered wine, and listened to storytelling.

Yun Changqing and his men exchanged bewildered glances, reading confusion in each other’s eyes.

Feng Yang, however, was unbothered and calmly poured wine for Feng Qi.

Half an hour later, Yun Changqing could no longer restrain himself. “What exactly are you doing?” he asked.

Feng Qi was utterly unconcerned by his anger. “Are you blind?”

A vein throbbed on Yun Changqing’s forehead. He suppressed his rage and asked, “May I ask, Young Lord, is there any purpose to this?”

Feng Qi drawled, “Of course—great purpose.”

“Oh?” Yun Changqing replied. “Would you enlighten me?”

Feng Qi shot him a look. “You really are an idiot.”

Yun Changqing’s rage surged, and his energy flared, shattering the table and chairs in an instant.

Feng Qi, just before the furniture splintered, rescued two jars of wine.

He sighed. “We’re not going back.”

Yun Changqing, about to attack, quickly withdrew his energy. “What do you mean?”

Feng Qi explained, “At the Eighteen Passes of Yan Yun, before the first we met the Green Bandits, before the second, assassins from the Bloodshed Pavilion. Each encounter more dangerous than the last, yet never beyond our power to handle. Do you think that’s coincidence? Even if it is... how will you get through the rest? And after the Eighteen Passes, there’s still ten thousand miles of desert between Yufeng Pass and Yan Yun. What then?”

Yun Changqing frowned. “But the Murong family’s people will arrive in half a month. As the new son-in-law, how can you not be present?”

Feng Qi rolled his eyes. “I don’t care. They won’t call off the marriage just because I’m not there, will they?”

Yun Changqing sneered. “True, someone as selfish as you wouldn’t care about such things.”

Feng Qi sighed, ready to retort, but Feng Yang spoke first, meeting Yun Changqing’s gaze. “Apologize to my brother.”

Yun Changqing had never seen Feng Yang like this and was momentarily stunned.

A warmth passed through Feng Qi’s heart. He patted Feng Yang’s head and looked at Yun Changqing. “I really don’t care, but as for who should be worried—well, there are plenty more anxious than me, yourself included.”

Yun Changqing narrowed his eyes, suspecting there was a barb in that remark.

Suppressed laughter came from behind him.

He finally realized and roared, “Are you calling me a eunuch?”

Intolerable!

Feng Qi, unconcerned, only curled his lip. “Wait for it. It’s coming.”

Yun Changqing ignored him.

Feng Yang was curious. “What’s coming?”

Feng Qi just smiled and, in his mind, silently counted down.

Three.

Two.

One.

As the count ended in his head, a burly, bearded man appeared before him, clearly having followed them for some time.

Feng Qi arched a brow. “Uncle Mo, can’t hide anymore?”

Yun Changqing and the others hurriedly saluted. “Ironblood General!”

It was Mo Ming, the First Rider of Yanbei’s Eighteen Riders.

Though each Rider was nominally assigned to one of the Eighteen Passes, they usually resided at the Wanli Camp.

Every Rider was at least at the Luminant level, and Mo Ming, as First Rider, was the strongest in Yanbei, already with one foot in the Void Realm—a true pinnacle in these days when higher realms were unseen.

Now, this peerless master looked deeply displeased. He waved Yun Changqing and the others away, then fixed a fierce gaze on Feng Qi. “You little brat, you think you can play your Uncle Mo?”

Feng Qi feigned innocence. “What did I do?”

Mo Ming grumbled. “No more pretense. The Prince ordered me to follow you. I hid my tracks because he thought you lacked life-and-death experience. Even now, unless you’re truly in mortal peril, I won’t interfere!”

Feng Qi stared at him.

Mo Ming snorted, “Staring at me won’t help!”

Suddenly, Feng Qi laughed, raising his voice, “Waiter! Ten more jars of strong wine!”

He beckoned Feng Yang. “Yang’er, let’s head back. Drink as we go, sleep when drunk. If scolded or beaten, just take it! I don’t believe anything could happen right under your nose. If you dare, don’t intervene!”

He directed the last words at Mo Ming, with a smile.

Feng Yang, momentarily surprised, glanced at Mo Ming but nodded all the same.

Mo Ming’s expression grew even darker, ending in a furious bellow. “You little brat! You really think you have me figured out?”

Yun Changqing felt relieved not to be the one exasperated this time.

But before he could savor it, Mo Ming’s cold gaze swept over. “Get back to your places, unless you want me to treat you to wine and storytelling.”

In a flash, only Feng Yang and Feng Qi remained.

As if they would willingly follow the self-obsessed, arrogant Young Lord if not for the greater good!

Feng Yang glanced around sheepishly, scratching his head and showing his white teeth in embarrassment.

...

Perhaps it was the knowledge that the Yanbei Heir was accompanied by a peak Luminant, but their journey was henceforth uneventful. Even when they encountered “travelers” who hid assassins, none dared act under Mo Ming’s intimidating gaze. In less than half a month, they entered the Yan Yun domain, the towering royal palace already faintly visible in the clouds.

Feng Qi stretched, flashing a bright smile at Mo Ming. “It’s good to have Uncle Mo around. I’ve slept so well these past weeks! No more sore back, aching legs, or dizzy head… Uncle Mo, you’re a miraculous physician—cure any ailment!”

As he said the last words, he even gave Mo Ming a thumbs-up.

Mo Ming glared. “Don’t call me uncle! If anything, you’re my uncle!”

The more he thought, the angrier he got. How had he, a protector on the Dao, become a mere bodyguard?

Feng Qi chuckled. “Don’t be upset, Uncle Mo. It was a matter of expediency. You saw how many Awakening-level fighters we ran into. True, they’re all novices, but if I had to fight them all, it would have cost me plenty of time. If I failed to return on time, you’d be the one suffering, wouldn’t you?”

Mo Ming squinted, “So you’re helping me, is that it?”

Feng Qi detected a hint of danger in his eyes and hurriedly denied it.

Mo Ming snorted, spurred his horse, and vanished in a cloud of dust.

Feng Qi, left coughing in his wake, sighed helplessly.

Feng Yang laughed so hard he could barely stand. “Serves you right for trying to trick Uncle Mo. Learned your lesson?”

Feng Qi replied, “I had no choice. If I didn’t, I’d just make trouble for myself. You know me—if I can avoid trouble, I will.”

Feng Yang glanced at the distant Yan Yun. “I’m afraid the trouble you’re about to face can’t be dodged.”

Feng Qi’s expression grew more resigned.

Yan Yun...

The Murong family... Little Star... Father...

Marriage alliances... feelings... reproaches...

Trouble, indeed.