Clashing with Old Daoist Wu

Outside the dilapidated temple, moonlight flowed like water, casting a cold, clear light on the broken walls and ruins.

Chen Qing sat before the Buddha statue, A Ning leaning against him. Old Daoist Wu sat cross-legged in the courtyard, while Lan Tianye stood nervously at the temple entrance, his palms slick with cold sweat.

He could feel the aura emanating from the disheveled old Daoist—vast as a mountain, unfathomably deep, far surpassing any opponent he had ever encountered. He suspected the man had reached the Grandmaster realm.

Outside the temple, moonlight flowed like water, and all was silent.

Chen Qing's eyes were slightly closed, his mind sinking into the vast, boundless artistic conception of the Ancient Star Ruins Scripture. His aura became ethereal and profound, as if he had merged with the myriad stars in the sky.

"Woo—"

The flute's melody began, like a spring bubbling in a secluded valley, clear and ethereal.

A Ning found the sound beautiful, possessing a tranquil, heart-soothing quality. She subconsciously imitated Chen Qing, extending her small hand and pressing it into the air as if holding an invisible flute of her own.

Lan Tianye heard the music. It was formless and intangible, yet it pierced directly into the heart, carrying an indescribable mental pressure.

Old Daoist Wu, bearing the brunt of it, his face changed dramatically! He felt the flute's melody like invisible waves, crashing against his mind, causing the internal energy surging within him to become turbulent and restless, almost out of control!

Even more terrifying was the desolation and vastness contained within the flute's sound, which involuntarily made him feel as insignificant as dust. His will to fight was stolen!

"Well played!" Old Daoist Wu roared, forming hand seals. A aura of pure internal energy erupted around him. Two formless forces collided in the temple courtyard, creating visible ripples in the air.

Dust on the ground stirred as if blown by wind, spreading outwards from the two of them as the center.

The flute's melody gradually shifted, like a strong wind blowing through a forest, with rustling leaves and hidden undulations.

Old Daoist Wu felt that the climax of the song had not yet arrived, yet he had already used all his strength. No, I can't lose so miserably in front of this kid.

Gritting his teeth, Old Daoist Wu began to circulate his internal energy with all his might.

The melody surged wave after wave, like giant waves crashing against the shore, with undercurrents surging.

Due to his full exertion of internal energy in resistance, Old Daoist Wu was already half a foot off the ground.

"Good kid!" Old Daoist Wu gritted out. He had lost his seated posture and was now standing, stepping. He pressed his hands together, firmly resisting Chen Qing's sonic wave imprint. But the flute's melody flowed like a starry river, continuous and unending, shaking him to the point of nearly spitting blood.

This was not an attack of sound, but a crushing of intent that was close to the "Dao"!

However, Old Daoist Wu was not the only one affected.

In the darkness further away, several groups who had come to settle old scores here were now suffering unintended calamities!

In the treetops a hundred meters away, two scouts in night-blooming clothes, suspected to be from the Third Prince's faction, suddenly clutched their chests and fell directly from the trees, unconscious, blood seeping from their ears and noses.

On the other side, behind a pile of rocks, several men dressed as martial artists turned pale. They desperately circulated their energy to resist, but still felt their blood essence churning, their internal organs seeming to shift. Their eyes were filled with horror.

Even further away, by the official road, in a seemingly ordinary carriage, an elder who happened to be passing by, with a not-weak aura, suddenly opened his eyes, spat out a mouthful of blood, and exclaimed in shock: "Such powerful internal energy?! Who is this master here?!"

All passersby, friend or foe, those with weaker cultivation directly collapsed. Those with profound cultivation had to exert all their energy just to barely steady their minds, each one filled with chilling fear!

Within the range of the flute's melody, all was silent. Insects and birds ceased their calls, as if an endless starry sky was pressing down, making it impossible to muster any thought of resistance, only deep awe and fear!

The song ended, its lingering resonance leaving an indelible mark on everyone's hearts.

Chen Qing slowly lowered the bamboo flute, his aura stable, as if he had merely done something trivial.

Old Daoist Wu let out a long sigh of turbid air, his face still etched with shock. It finally turned into a complex sigh. He dispersed his energy, landing unsteadily, his expression unusually solemn: "The younger generation is formidable! Truly formidable! This is not the work of music, but something close to the Dao! It directly shakes the soul, affecting heaven and earth... I...!"

He no longer pressed Chen Qing about his origins or lineage; those seemed unimportant now.

"May I ask the name of this song?" the old Daoist asked Chen Qing with emotion.

Chen Qing pondered for a second. He hadn't decided on a name yet. Then he turned to look at A Ning, raising his hand to pat her small head: "Then let's call it the 'Star River Roaring Waves Song'."

"A fine name, 'Star River Roaring Waves Song'."

He gave Chen Qing a deep look, then fumbled in his robes and produced a palm-sized token, neither gold nor wood, cool to the touch, and carved with strange cloud patterns. With a flick of his finger, the token floated gently towards Chen Qing.

"I am Old Daoist Wu. Today, my eyes have been truly opened. I present this to you; perhaps in the future... it can help you avoid some calamities." His tone was somewhat meaningful. "If you encounter trouble that even the 'Sky Mending Star Pavilion' cannot resolve, you may use this token to try your luck at Kunlun Mountain. It might offer a sliver of hope. Remember, use it wisely."

With that, he didn't wait for Chen Qing's reply. His figure flickered, and like a phantom, he merged into the night, disappearing without a trace.

The eavesdroppers in the distance who had narrowly avoided fainting felt as if they had been granted a great pardon. They no longer dared to linger for a moment, retreating silently in utter disarray, burying the terrifying experience of this night deep in their hearts.

The name "Young Master Star Mark" was no longer just a legend in Iron Wall City, but began to spread quietly through the turbulent Jianghu in a more mysterious and awe-inspiring manner.

Chen Qing looked at the token of peculiar material in his hand. The cloud patterns on it seemed to contain some profound truth. His gaze was deep, lost in thought.

The journey south continued, and it clearly became much more "lively."

In tea houses, taverns, and post stations along the way, wherever people of the Jianghu gathered, one could almost always hear various legends about "Young Master Star Mark" Chen Qing.

However, these legends, passed down by word of mouth and embellished, had long since become bizarre and unrecognizable.

"...Hey, you guys didn't see it! That Young Master Star Mark was eight feet tall, and his waist was also eight feet! His eyes were like copper bells, and his voice like a thunderous gong! That day in Iron Wall City, one punch caused the sky to crack and the earth to split! He directly blasted half of the Shadow Kill Tower's assassins, along with the city wall, into rubble!" a swordsman exclaimed, spitting as he gestured.

Someone nearby retorted: "Nonsense! My second maternal uncle's third niece was in Iron Wall City at the time! Young Master Star Mark was clearly a handsome young man, dressed in white as snow, stepping on colorful auspicious clouds! He was truly like an immortal! He didn't even need to lift a finger; he just glared, and all those assassins spontaneously combusted!"

"You're all wrong!" another elder whispered mysteriously, lowering his voice. "According to reliable sources, Young Master Star Mark is no mortal, but a star lord descended from heaven! His mount, a giant wolf, has wings on its ribs and can travel ten thousand miles a day, swallowing and spitting flames! That night, he rode that wolf down from the moon!"

Lan Tianye listened with his ears perked up, his eyes shining.

Every time he heard an exaggerated part, he couldn't help but nudge Chen Qing with his elbow, lowering his voice and excitedly asking: "Brother Chen, Brother Chen! Is what they're saying true? Is that Young Master Star Mark really you?"

Chen Qing: "..." He silently picked up the coarse ceramic bowl and took a sip of the bland tea, feeling a bit helpless, but too lazy to explain. Jianghu rumors were distorted and false, like duckweed in the wind, meaningless.

Seeing Chen Qing not answer, Lan Tianye automatically interpreted it as tacit acknowledgment and profound mystery. He tried to straighten his face, attempting to imitate Chen Qing's calm, unruffled, and all-conquering demeanor. He cleared his throat lightly and said to his teacup: "Well, just a few minor tricks, not worth mentioning."

His pretense of maturity clashed with his youthful, lively eyes, creating a bizarre and comical mismatch that made an old woman at a nearby table burst into laughter.

Lan Tianye's facade crumbled instantly. Blushing, he sheepishly scratched his head.

Sometimes, when conversations reached a fever pitch and tales were spun with wild exaggeration, Lan Tianye couldn't help but lean in and interrupt, puffing out his chest with pride. "Hey! Young Master Star Mark you're talking about, I know him! We've got a life-or-death friendship! Fought bandits together, drank together!"

The crowd would often cast him doubtful glances. Lan Tianye would get anxious, "Really! He's right..."

Before he could finish, he felt a calm, unperturbed gaze sweep over him from the side. Lan Tianye instantly froze like a rooster whose neck had been grabbed. His bravado deflated, he shrunk his neck and quietly added, "...Alright, alright, maybe... probably... I was just a tiny bit of a stretch."

The crowd erupted in laughter, dismissing it as youthful boasting and not taking him seriously.

Chen Qing shook his head, put down the tea money, and stood up to leave. Lan Tianye quickly followed, holding the horse's reins and stirrup with utmost eagerness, still muttering incessantly, "Brother Chen, which of those stories are true? Just tell me a little... just a little..."

A Ning quietly walked beside Chen Qing, her small hand clutching his sleeve. Listening to Lan Tianye's incessant chatter and the bizarre rumors, a flicker of curiosity shone in her clear, dark eyes, as if Brother Chen had turned into a monster.

The martial world was like this, truth and falsehood mixed together, becoming fodder for idle chatter.

But Chen Qing paid little mind to all of it. He patted A Ning's little head, "Let's go, we're setting off!"

"Huh? On the road again? Can't we rest a bit?" Lan Tianye wailed, he hadn't finished listening to the story next door.

"Why don't you stay here?" Chen Qing walked out of the teahouse without looking back.

"Alas, my bitter life..."