Martial Park.
In the courtyard where he had stayed yesterday.
After fighting Guo Xuesong, Lin Chen did not continue challenging people on the arena. Instead, he returned to the courtyard.
At that moment, his thoughts were somewhat complicated. For the first time, he did not immediately begin cultivating.
Standing in the courtyard, he let the evening breeze stir his hair, yet it could not disperse the thoughts weighing on him.
Although his battle with that man had ended with the other side admitting defeat, scene after scene continued flashing through his mind like the turning lights of a carriage.
By the end of the fight, even though the other man's attacks remained fierce, his exhaustion was impossible to conceal. His hands trembled faintly from declining blood and qi and his inability to muster his strength. And when he finally admitted defeat, unwillingness and desolation filled his eyes.
Instructor Yu had once said that he could kill an eighty-year-old Ranked Martial Artist with one punch.
That had given him only a vague notion of a martial artist's blood and qi declining. But it was only after personally fighting someone like that that he understood how cruel it was.
Who in this mortal world could escape growing old?
He was currently in the prime of his youth, but when his own blood and qi eventually declined, and he had to watch helplessly as his strength slipped away from his fingertips like drifting sand, would he be able to accept that helplessness?
Time seemed to freeze, and Lin Chen simply stood there in silence.
Ten breaths later.
Lin Chen suddenly burst out laughing and slapped a nearby ginkgo tree.
"Am I sick or something?"
He was young and in his prime. Why the hell was he thinking about old age?
He was at