Night Falls, Dawn Arrives

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The desolate roar of a tiger echoed through heaven and earth, lingering long after it faded.

Inside Liu Wuqiu's room, Xiahou Xuan sat on a stool, reading by moonlight. Wang Anfeng sat with his eyes closed, circulating his Inner Qi in cultivation. Huangfu Xiong, whose jaw had been forced open to have medicinal wine poured down his throat, had also woken up. However, he was bored and simply held the wine jar, taking small sips from time to time.

Outside the room, there was dead silence, save for the whistling mountain wind. They could only wait here, preparing to face an unknown judgment. Just hearing the powerful Qi outside, like a tiger, told them this was not something they could intervene in.

But to sit and wait for death was truly unbearable.

Just then, amidst the whistling mountain wind, other sounds suddenly mixed in. They sounded like footsteps, but not quite. It was as if something was being dragged across the ground, emitting a strange, chilling tone. Wang Anfeng slowly opened his eyes, his hand resting on the dagger at his waist. Xiahou Xuan's gaze also shifted from his book. The veins on Huangfu Xiong's hand, gripping the wine jar, bulged unconsciously.

The heartbeats of the three gradually quickened as the scraping sound drew closer and closer...

Crash!

The wooden door was shoved open, and a pungent smell of blood, mixed with the mountain wind, rushed in, causing the three youths' hearts to pound at their fastest. Wang Anfeng's dagger suddenly unsheathed, flashing like a cold light to protect him. Moonlight fell on the person before them, an old man with white hair, who grinned at them and said:

"Cough, cough, cough. It seems you are not foolish after all."

"Liu, Senior Liu."

Wang Anfeng finally recognized the old man before him as Liu Wuqiu, whom he had met before. However, his clothes were now tattered and stained with blood, making him unrecognizable at first. Based on his previous deductions, the old man harbored no killing intent towards them, and his rapidly beating heart slowed slightly. Liu Wuqiu extended his right hand and said:

"Give it here."

Wang Anfeng paused, then remembered something. He sheathed his dagger, retrieved the fan from a nearby table, and respectfully handed it to the old man. The latter took the folding fan, staggered forward, and finally slumped against the side of the bed on the floor. He let out a long sigh, unfolded the fan in the moonlight, and raised a trembling hand to brush over the small poem embroidered with hairpins on the fan, softly saying:

"I won..."

"Lost for sixty-eight years, won this time..."

"I have no regrets."

Wang Anfeng and the other two stood beside him in silence. The old man looked at the folding fan and spoke softly words they couldn't understand, but the relaxation, peace, and nostalgia within them were emotions they could all share. The old man's voice gradually lowered, then shifted to descriptions of various martial arts and crafts of the jianghu, interspersed with colloquialisms. The three youths, having experienced the old man's emotions, naturally became engrossed in his descriptions.

Xiahou Xuan, with his sharp intellect and broad knowledge, held himself in high regard and naturally looked down on people like Liu Wuqiu. However, the old man's low, somewhat jumbled and indistinct murmurs struck him like thunder. Many parts of his words resonated with Xiahou Xuan's own studies, and he listened with increasing focus. His Inner Qi spontaneously circulated, and his aura gradually expanded and broadened. His words were like a hundred rivers converging into the sea, ultimately achieving vastness.

Huangfu Xiong was awestruck by the old man's vague descriptions, which seemed to be about Fist Techniques. He felt that every word the old man spoke was a profound insight into the Way of Fist, reaching the apex and directly touching its essence. The tiger's roar from earlier still echoed in his ears, shattering his understanding of Fist Techniques to its core. From these ruins, a new, towering structure rose, a solitary peak overlooking his former self.

Wang Anfeng had not been practicing martial arts for long and his knowledge of martial arts was far inferior to his two friends. At this moment, he was simply listening to the old man. Honestly, he didn't understand many of the things the old man said. However, some words made him feel as if he had a sudden realization, though he couldn't quite grasp it. He listened in a muddled state. Yet, as his One Zen Skill's Internal Force circulated, there were subtle changes, whether for good or ill, he couldn't tell.

The old man's voice grew lower and gradually faded. He looked up at the three youths and said:

"Your aptitudes are good. I have learned much in my life, and today's breakthrough has brought many insights. You three could not fully absorb it all, but you did not leave empty-handed."

"One gained breadth, one gained height, and one... gained purity. The Heavenly Dao is like this; human effort can never achieve perfection. Dividing it into three, standing like tripods? Very good... very good..."

The old man's expression was complex. He murmured a few words softly, then said:

"I am tired. I am going to sleep."

The three did not fully understand his meaning, but they were grateful for Liu Wuqiu's guidance. They all bowed deeply and withdrew outside. The night of life and death felt like a dream. The silver moon in the sky had set, and the pale light of dawn seemed to be emerging.

Wang Anfeng looked up at the sky, realizing that a full night had passed. This short night had contained more weight and unforgettable experiences than his entire thirteen years of life combined. Xiahou and Huangfu beside him also looked somewhat dazed, clearly indicating that this experience was extraordinary for them as well.

Suddenly, two streaks of light shot down from the sky. Before they even got close, someone shouted loudly:

"Young Master! Young Master?!"

The two landed. One was a tall, imposing man in brocade clothes, with a heavy saber on his back that radiated a sharp aura. The other was a sickly-looking man holding a wooden zither. Upon seeing Xiahou and Huangfu, he sat down on the ground, clutching his chest and sighing heavily. He yelled loudly:

"Finally, it's over. Good, good..."

"That was close, you scared Old Six to death..."

The man in brocade clothes frowned and explained:

"Earlier, the phenomenon of the tiger's roar from this mountain shot up into the sky, clearing the land for a thousand miles and silencing all beasts. It must be that someone has stepped onto the path of a martial arts Grandmaster of the Upper Three Ranks. It is very good that the two... three young masters are unharmed."

"From now on, do not separate from us again. If you encounter such a situation again..."

Huangfu Xiong shrugged, reaching for the wine pot at his waist only to find it empty. He pouted and said:

"You followed? If you followed, could you have protected the three of us from someone in the Upper Three Ranks?"

The man in brocade clothes' expression stiffened slightly. He forced himself to argue:

"A Daoist True Man, a Military General, I am naturally no match for them. But if it meant sacrificing my life, at the very least, I could protect the young masters' lives."

Xiahou Xuan sighed from the side: "Sacrificing your life? Master Liu was covered in a hundred wounds. He must have just fought and killed an Upper Three Ranks Grandmaster..."

Upon hearing this, even the sickly man stopped his wailing and looked at the wooden hut before them as if he had seen a ghost. Wang Anfeng slightly raised his gaze to the sky. The sun was rising, and the sky was gradually brightening. Only then could he see the celestial phenomenon above: thick clouds gathered, like dragons coiling, attempting to shake the pillars of heaven. The anomaly enveloped the land for dozens of miles, a terrifying sight.

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