Meng Chuan's Progress and Speculations (Please Subscribe)

Within the martial training ground of the Meng Mansion estate.

Meng Chuan, as towering and brawny as a giant spirit god, had his short black hair bound by a blue headband. Bare-chested and clad in black trousers with leg wraps, his eyes shifted from side to side. His hands were loosely clenched at either side of his waist as he assumed a ready stance.

At the shout to begin, the twelve Vermilion Bird Divine Guards surrounding Meng Chuan focused intently. Some drew bows, others fired crossbows, unleashing a concentrated barrage of arrows at him. The shafts were fierce and powerful, tearing through the air like bursting Thunder Fire.

These twelve Vermilion Bird Divine Guards possessed great strength, sharp eyesight, and sufficiently precise, steady hands. In terms of sheer quality, they were in no way inferior to the so-called master marksmen of the army. The impact of their arrows alone was enough to make acquired martial arts experts wary.

The twelve fired simultaneously from four directions—front, back, left, and right—nearly sealing off every route of retreat. It was a sure-kill formation.

Yet Meng Chuan forcibly created a possibility out of the impossible. His breath rumbled like thunder, his chest resonating, while his feet became layered afterimages. Within a space no larger than an inch, he shifted and maneuvered, like an ape leaping through mountain forests with swift agility, yet also like a massive, ponderous elephant, feet planted upon the earth, standing firm and unmoving.

This movement technique, both light and heavy, agile yet clumsy, became extraordinarily harmonious and seamless in Meng Chuan's execution. It was like day and night: clearly opposed and contradictory, yet in essence merely a shift in one's line of sight, an obscuring of light and shadow.

At their root, day and night were both merely changes in