Dusk closed in, and fine snow drifted like catkins.
A black-canopied carriage stood on the bluestone slabs before the Martial Arts School. The dark horse pulling it snorted white mist from time to time.
A man in fitted clothes sat on the carriage shaft, around forty years old, with an ordinary face.
Yet whenever his eyes opened and closed, a sharp gleam flickered within them. The goose-feather saber at his waist rose and fell slightly as he folded his arms.
Fang Yuan halted. The man's eyes-closed posture made him feel as though he were facing an old wolf.
The instant Fang Yuan's gaze met his, the man's eyes narrowed slightly.
An invisible pressure spread silently like a rising tide, making Fang Yuan's breath catch!
This was the vitality, essence, and spirit of a martial artist. The stronger the oppressive feeling, the better one's vitality, essence, and spirit—and the more vigorous one's qi and blood.
This feeling... was far heavier and more solid than the pressure First Senior Brother Zhao Tie had given him!
Zhao Tie was already at the Half-Step Second-grade realm. This man... was very likely a true Second-grade Martial Artist!
Wang Pangzi seemed utterly unaware—or perhaps he had long since grown accustomed to it. Smiling, he introduced Fang Yuan to the man.
"Uncle Zhang, have you been waiting long? This is my Junior Brother from the Martial Arts School, Fang Yuan."
Then he turned to Fang Yuan. "Junior Brother Fang, this is Uncle Zhang. He usually travels around with me."
At this, the imposing aura around Uncle Zhang vanished without a trace.
As if it had all been an illusion, he gave Fang Yuan a slight nod, his tone calm and even.
"Young Master Fang." He was not especially warm, but he afforded him basic respect.
As Uncle