A Clash with Old Daoist Wu

Beyond the ruined temple, moonlight flowed like water, illuminating the broken walls in a cold, lonely glow.

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

He could feel that the aura radiating from the disheveled old Daoist was as towering as a mountain and unfathomably deep, far beyond that of any opponent he had faced before. The old man was likely a mighty figure who had entered the Grandmaster realm.

Beyond the temple, moonlight flowed like water. All was silent.

Chen Qing's eyes were half-closed as his mind sank into the vast, desolate realm of the Ancient Star Ruins Scripture. His aura grew ethereal and profound, as if he had merged with the stars scattered across the heavens.

"Wuu—"

The flute began with a sound like a spring murmuring in a secluded valley, clear and ethereal.

A Ning thought it sounded beautiful, carrying a soothing serenity. Without thinking, she imitated Chen Qing, reaching out her little hand and pressing against the air, as if she, too, held an invisible flute.

To Lan Tianye, the sound was formless and intangible, yet it pierced straight into his heart, containing an indescribable pressure upon the spirit.

Old Daoist Wu, bearing the brunt of it, turned pale! The flute seemed like an invisible tide, crashing against his mind in wave after wave. The inner force surging through his body grew turbulent and unruly, almost slipping beyond his control!

More terrifying still, the desolation and vastness contained in the flute made him involuntarily feel as insignificant as a speck of dust. His fighting spirit was swept away!

"Good! Bring it on!" Old Daoist Wu shouted. He formed a seal with both hands, and a radiant aura of inner force flared around him. Two invisible forces collided in the ruined temple's courtyard, sending out rings of rippling air visible to the naked eye.

The dust on the ground stirred without a breeze, spreading outward from the two men.

The flute's melody shifted, like a long wind sweeping through the forest, rustling the leaves and branches, with hidden rises and falls.

Old Daoist Wu could feel that the song had yet to reach its climax, yet he was already using all his strength. No, I can't let this kid beat me so badly.

Grimacing, Old Daoist Wu began circulating his inner force with all his might.

Wave after wave of melody surged at him, like raging billows crashing against the shore, with hidden currents roiling beneath.

As Old Daoist Wu poured all his strength into resisting, he was already floating half a foot off the ground.

"Impressive, boy!" Old Daoist Wu gritted his teeth and shouted. He had abandoned his cross-legged posture and now stood with his feet planted, both hands forming a seal to hold back Chen Qing's waves of sound. But the flute flowed on like a surging star river, unending, shaking him so badly he nearly spat blood.

This was no sonic attack technique. It was a crushing force of a realm approaching the Dao!

Yet Old Daoist Wu wasn't the only one affected.

Farther away in the darkness, several groups who had come to settle old scores here were caught in the disaster as well!

In the treetops a hundred meters away, two men dressed in black, suspected to be spies for the Third Prince, clutched their chests and plunged from the branches, unconscious, blood seeping from their ears and noses.

Behind a pile of rocks on the other side, several men dressed as wandering martial artists turned deathly pale. They desperately circulated their inner force to resist, yet their blood and qi still churned, and it felt as though their internal organs were about to shift out of place. Their eyes brimmed with shock.

Farther away beside the official road, an old man with a formidable aura was passing by in an ordinary-looking carriage. He suddenly opened his eyes and spat out a mouthful of blood, crying out in shock, "Such powerful inner force?! What expert is here?!"

Every passerby, friend or foe, was chilled to the bone. Those with weaker cultivation collapsed on the spot, while even the more powerful had to circulate their inner force with all their might just to steady their minds!

Within the flute's reach, all was silent. Insects and birds fell quiet, as if the endless starry sky pressed down from above, leaving no room for the slightest thought of resistance—only profound reverence and fear!

The song ended, its lingering notes curling through the air, yet it left an indelible mark in everyone's heart.

Chen Qing slowly lowered his bamboo flute. His breathing remained steady, as if he had done nothing more than some trivial little thing.

Old Daoist Wu let out a long breath of foul air. The shock still lingered on his face, but at last it became a complicated sigh. He dispelled his power and stumbled to the ground, his expression more solemn than ever. "The younger generation is truly to be feared! Truly, the younger generation is to be feared! This is no feat of musical skill—it borders on the Dao! It shakes the soul and affects the very world... I..."

He no longer asked about Chen Qing's origins or his master's lineage. None of that seemed important anymore.

"May I ask what this song is called?" the old Daoist asked, gazing at Chen Qing with a sigh.

Chen Qing pondered for a second. He hadn't thought of a name for the song yet. Then he turned to A Ning and gently patted her little head. "Then let's call it the Star River Roaring Waves Song."

"What a fine Star River Roaring Waves Song!"

He gave Chen Qing a long look, then fumbled inside his robes and took out an ancient, palm-sized token. It was neither metal nor wood, cool to the touch, and carved with strange cloud patterns. With a flick of his finger, the token drifted lightly toward Chen Qing.

"This old man is Wu Ming. Today, you've truly opened my eyes. I give you this item. Perhaps one day... it may shield you from some calamity." His tone held a deeper meaning. "If you ever face trouble that even the Sky Mending Star Pavilion can't solve, take this to Kunlun Mountain and try your luck. You may find a thread of hope. Remember, use it with care."

With that, he didn't wait for Chen Qing to reply. His figure flickered, merging into the night like a phantom until he vanished without a trace.

The onlookers farther away who had escaped unconsciousness felt as though they had been pardoned. Daring not linger any longer, they withdrew in a sorry state, quietly burying this terrifying experience deep in their hearts.

From then on, the name "Young Master Star Mark" was no longer merely a legend of Iron Wall City. It began to spread quietly through the turbulent martial world in a more mysterious and awe-inspiring way.

Chen Qing looked at the strangely made token in his hand. The cloud patterns seemed to contain some profound principle. His gaze grew distant and thoughtful.

The journey south became noticeably livelier.

At the teahouses, taverns, and relay stations along the way, anywhere martial artists gathered, one could almost always hear stories about Chen Qing, "Young Master Star Mark."

But after passing from mouth to mouth, with embellishments added at every turn, those tales had long since become bizarre and unrecognizable.

"...Hey, you should've seen him! That Young Master Star Mark was eight feet tall and eight feet around the waist, with eyes like bronze bells and a voice like a great bronze bell! In Iron Wall City, he threw one punch and the sky cracked and the earth split! He sent the Shadow Kill Tower assassins crashing through half the city wall, bodies and all!" A saber-wielding man gesticulated wildly, spittle flying.

Someone beside him scoffed, "Bullshit! My second grandaunt's third niece was in Iron Wall City at the time! Young Master Star Mark was a handsome young man in white, with clothes whiter than snow, riding on seven-colored clouds! He had such an immortal air about him! He didn't even need to lift a finger. He only had to glare, and all those assassins burst into flames!"

"You're all wrong!" another old man said, lowering his voice mysteriously. "According to reliable sources, Young Master Star Mark wasn't mortal at all. He was a celestial star lord descended to the mortal realm! His giant wolf mount had wings growing from its ribs, could travel a thousand miles in a day, and breathed fire! That night, he rode the wolf down from the moon!"

Lan Tianye listened with ears pricked up and eyes shining.

Whenever he heard one of the more outrageous claims, he couldn't help nudging Chen Qing with his elbow and asking excitedly in a hushed voice, "Brother Chen, Brother Chen! Is what they're saying true? Is that Young Master Star Mark really you?"

Chen Qing: "..." He merely lifted his coarse porcelain bowl and took a sip of weak tea, feeling a little helpless but too lazy to explain. Martial-world rumors were false and unreliable, like duckweed drifting in the wind. They were meaningless.

When Chen Qing didn't answer, Lan Tianye took it as confirmation and proof of his unfathomable nature. He tried to assume Chen Qing's calm, unruffled air of looking down on all living things, then cleared his throat and said blandly to his teacup, "Mm, merely a few paltry tricks. Nothing worth mentioning."

His deliberately mature manner, paired with his youthful, lively features, looked so incongruous and ridiculous that a woman at the next table couldn't help bursting into laughter.

Lan Tianye immediately lost his composure. His face reddened, and he scratched his head sheepishly.

Sometimes, when a story reached its most exciting part and the speaker was painting the sky and earth with outrageous claims, Lan Tianye couldn't hold back. He would butt in, beaming with pride as he thumped his chest. "Hey! I know that Young Master Star Mark you're talking about! We're practically brothers who've been through life and death together! We've fought bandits and shared drinks!"

People usually looked at him doubtfully. Lan Tianye would grow flustered. "It's true! He's right—"

Before he could finish, he felt a calm, unruffled gaze sweep over him from beside him. In an instant, Lan Tianye became like a rooster caught by the throat. His bravado deflated, and he shrank his neck, adding in a quiet voice, "...All right, all right. Maybe... perhaps... I'm just bragging a tiny little bit."

The crowd burst into laughter, taking him for a boastful young man and not believing him.

Chen Qing shook his head, left money for the tea, and got to his feet. Lan Tianye hurried after him, leading the horse and fussing over him with eager attentiveness, while still muttering nonstop, "Brother Chen, which parts of what they said were true? Just tell me a tiny bit... just a tiny bit..."

A Ning quietly stayed by Chen Qing's side, her little hand holding the hem of his robe. As she listened to Lan Tianye's endless chatter and those bizarre rumors, curiosity glimmered in her bright, dark eyes. It seemed that Brother Chen had turned into a monster.

That was the martial world: truth and lies mixed together, becoming the talk of the town over tea and meals.

But Chen Qing didn't care much about any of it. He patted A Ning's little head. "Come on, let's go!"

"Huh? We're leaving again? Can't we rest a while?" Lan Tianye wailed. He hadn't even finished listening to the story next door.

"Or you can stay here," Chen Qing said, walking out of the teahouse without looking back.

"Ah, what a wretched life I lead..."