Northward Journey

In the midst of the wind and snow, a young man in a wheelchair journeyed alone. His solitary figure was so unremarkable against the silver-clad landscape, yet so strikingly clear.

The wheelchair creaked as it rolled over the snow. Ning Chen had once consumed Heavenly Frost Grass, and the true qi in his body was also cold, so he was less bothered by the cold than most people. However, the constant pain from his legs made his face a little pale.

Unbeknownst to him, he had been in this world for almost half a year. It wasn't a long time, but it had been full of hardships.

His path north had no destination; Ning Chen went wherever he ended up. He carried silver issued by the academy, earned from chopping firewood.

Sometimes he slept in the wilderness. When hungry, he would eat some dry rations or hunt a wild rabbit. When thirsty, he would take a mouthful of snow. In snowy weather, water was never scarce.

The heavy snow had lasted too long. Few travelers were out, and merchant caravans were waiting for clear weather. The whole world seemed so quiet—a terrifying kind of quiet.

Loneliness was the only constant scenery. Gradually, Ning Chen grew accustomed to loneliness, accustomed to the pain in his legs, and then he no longer felt lonely or in pain.

Habit could indeed be a frightening thing; it could make everything gradually seem self-evident.

The road to Shu was difficult, harder than ascending to the heavens. Ning Chen wasn't on the road to Shu, but for him, the snowy path beneath him was no less arduous than the road to Shu.

People only knew to cherish things once they were lost. His youthful recklessness was now a distant memory. All Ning Chen could do each day was keep moving, sitting in his wheelchair, just keep moving.

His martial arts progress was much faster than before. The cold, snowy weather seemed to greatly aid his cultivation. With a flip of his hand, frost condensed, like a small snow shower.

A Houtian Realm fourth-rank cultivation was already quite good in this world, especially considering he had been cultivating for less than half a year.

He considered himself fortunate. Since he began cultivating, those who guided him were rare powerhouses in this world. He had even met the dean, though he was unconscious at the time.

After five days of travel, Ning Chen finally saw something other than an endless wasteland. He arrived at an ancient city: Falling Moon City.

The ancient city's name was quite unique. He heard there was also a Falling Moon Gorge outside the city, which was very treacherous but also the shortest route between north and south. Most passing merchant caravans chose to go through the gorge, saving a lot of detours.

The snow gradually stopped. The sky hadn't cleared yet, but people who had been cooped up for over a month finally emerged from their homes—some sweeping snow, others heading to the streets.

The ancient city gradually grew lively: the cries of vendors, the haggling of passersby, the arguments of couples, and the cries of children being disciplined.

Ning Chen sat in his wheelchair, quietly observing the myriad aspects of life, his heart calm, like a transient visitor. In truth, he really was just a transient visitor.

"Giddy up!"

Suddenly, a hurried horse's hooves broke the peace. At a distant street corner, a person and a horse galloped furiously down the street. In an instant, passersby panicked, scattering in all directions.

Ning Chen, in the middle of the street, could have dodged in time. However, just as he was about to turn his wheelchair to escape, his hands stopped.

Why should he dodge?

Hadn't he dodged enough in this life?

On the street, people had scattered, leaving only the galloping horse and Ning Chen, still sitting in the middle of the road.

Some gasped in alarm, some worried, and some gloated.

At the front of the crowd was a woman dressed in a light blue gown, with beautiful eyebrows and a hint of sorrow. She also curiously quieted herself, watching the young man in the middle of the road.

The black horse galloped closer, and a mocking expression appeared on the young man's face.

"Bang!"

With a terrifying crash, the black horse whinnied in pain. Amidst the snow flying everywhere, the young man in the wheelchair sat steadily, completely motionless.

The young man's hand was pressed against the black horse's face, preventing it from moving an inch.

The young man on the black horse fell off with a thud, a terrible fall that left his face covered in blood.

"You're asking for death!"

The young man immediately scrambled to his feet, his face contorted in a grimace. He drew the sword from his waist and slashed at Ning Chen.

"Sigh."

Ning Chen sighed softly, as if lamenting something.

The next moment, an ordinary woodcutting axe unleashed its most perfect edge.

Why perfect? Because Ning Chen had swung this one blow for over two months, countless tens of thousands of times.

"Clang!"

With a crisp sound, the young man's sword snapped instantly, without any suspense.

The young man was stunned, and the pedestrians on the roadside were also stunned. Only the young man quietly turned his wheelchair and slowly departed.

The beautiful woman's eyes grew more curious. What a strange young man.

Ning Chen felt the curious gaze of the woman in the crowd. After a glance, he continued on his way. She was a very beautiful woman, but she seemed somewhat sickly. Although well-hidden, the faint exhaustion couldn't be concealed.

As he traveled, the encounters between people were fate, and also destiny. Ning Chen turned his wheelchair, brushed past the woman, no longer looking back, no longer turning around, gradually drifting further away.

"Miss," an old woman beside the woman called softly.

"He is very much like me," the woman said softly, a hint of weariness flashing in her eyes.

"Miss is the smartest person in this world; no one can compare to Miss," the old woman asserted.

"He is very much like me."

The woman repeated herself, her tone flat but with an undeniable authority.

Hearing this, the old woman fell silent, not daring to refute her again.

"Let's go."

The woman spoke, then immediately turned and walked in the opposite direction from the young man.

A brief interlude couldn't change anything. One was heading north, the other south. Their passing glance was a fate from a previous life.

The scenery in the northern country was most beautiful. Ning Chen stayed in Falling Moon City for a day. That night, looking at the prosperity of this ancient city, so different from the Imperial City, his calm heart felt a trace of reluctance to leave.

"Ghost!"

From outside the city, a shrill scream echoed. Soon, the entire city was terrified. A ghostly sedan chair emerged from Falling Moon Gorge, preceded by Black and White Impermanence, and Ox-Head and Horse-Face. The chilling aura shocked all of Falling Moon City.

Many witnessed this terrifying scene, running back as if driven mad.

Ning Chen had always been the least superstitious, but now he felt bewildered.

If there were no ghosts or gods in the world, what then was the meaning of his experiences?

Denying ghosts and gods would, to a large extent, be denying his own existence.

Ning Chen pushed his wheelchair toward Falling Moon Gorge. He truly wanted to see if there were really ghosts or gods in this world.

There were clearly others in the city who shared his curiosity. While ordinary people fled, these curious individuals rushed towards the commotion.

The woman in the light blue robe was one of them. She had been about to leave the city but turned back.

"Miss, your body is weak. You shouldn't go near these ghostly things," the old woman said softly, her face filled with worry.

"There should be no ghosts in this world," the woman replied calmly, her beautiful face showing little change.

The old woman knew persuasion was useless, so she could only follow along. She wasn't afraid of ghosts; it was just that her miss's body was too frail.

A cold wind blew, and the woman's face paled slightly. She coughed a few times, but her steps did not falter.

At night, the gorge outside the city was extremely cold, especially after more than a month of intermittent heavy snowfall. The accumulated snow blocked the mountains, and the paths in the gorge were also impassable. The shallowest snow was knee-deep, making travel difficult.

When the crowd arrived at the gorge, the ghostly sedan chair had already vanished. Ox-Head and Horse-Face, and Black and White Impermanence were also gone. Only that extremely cold and malevolent aura lingered in the gorge, refusing to dissipate.

"Ghost girl," the woman said faintly after observing for a long time.

"There should be no ghosts in this world."

Just then, a bewildered voice responded.

A hint of sarcasm flashed across the woman's beautiful face. She said, "Considering there are monsters like Xiantian cultivators in this world, why can't there be ghosts?"

Ning Chen fell silent, then after a moment, replied, "Xiantian cultivators were once human too."

The woman snorted coldly and said, "How do you know ghosts weren't human before?"

Ning Chen fell silent again, unsure how to answer.

Not having seen what they wanted to see, most people at the gorge left disappointed. Ning Chen also turned his wheelchair around and headed back towards the city.

The woman walked up and stood behind Ning Chen. A pair of slender, beautiful hands pushed his wheelchair. Without a word, she simply pushed him quietly.

The old woman's gaze showed surprise, not because of her miss's identity, but because the scene seemed too natural, as if it were meant to be.

"Thank you," Ning Chen said softly.

"Mm," the woman accepted calmly.

The two walked one behind the other, Ning Chen in the wheelchair, the woman pushing it. There wasn't much conversation; they simply walked quietly. In the night, the moon, occasionally peeking out from behind the clouds, cast a fleeting ray of light before shyly retreating again.

"May I ask for your name, young lady?"

"Yue Ling."

"And you, young master?"

"Ning Fan."

They exchanged names. Ning Fan was a random name Ning Chen chose, and Yue Ling was a random name the woman picked.

Names, to them, were merely appellations. What difference did truth or falsehood make?

"Young Master Ning, which way are you heading?" Yue Ling asked.

"North. And you, Miss Ling?" Ning Chen asked casually.

"South," Yue Ling replied.

"What an unfortunate coincidence."

"Indeed."

The two walked casually through the city, with the old woman following behind, not too close.

Falling Moon City was beautiful at night. Along the riverbanks, lights glowed brightly. The cold weather couldn't deter the talented scholars and beautiful women from playing instruments and composing poetry by the river, a truly elegant sight.

Places of entertainment were always livelier.

"Young Master seems to enjoy places like this."

Yue Ling looked at Ning Chen and spoke calmly, with no hint of sarcasm, merely stating a fact.

"Just reminded me of some old acquaintances," Ning Chen replied.

This time, a flicker of surprise crossed Yue Ling's eyes. Ning Chen didn't seem like someone who would frequent places of entertainment, so why would he have old acquaintances here?

Ning Chen didn't explain. Earlier today, he had seen some places in the city selling soap, and the price wasn't expensive; ordinary people could afford it. It seemed that woman, Yue Hanyi, wasn't irredeemably bad after all.

For some reason, he just didn't have a good impression of Yue Hanyi, even though he knew Lingyan Pavilion treated its women quite well.

"It's been a long time since I've been here, but I never expected the Central Plains to have something called Soap now," Yue Ling sighed, looking at the bustling scene before her, as if they shared a telepathic connection.

"Are you not from the Central Plains, Miss?" Ning Chen asked.

"Heh," Yue Ling shook her head, not wanting to elaborate on the matter.

"Young Master Ning, may I take your pulse?"

"You're also skilled in medicine, Miss?"

Ning Chen asked curiously, but still obediently extended his arm.

"Just a case of long-term illness making one a doctor," Yue Ling replied calmly, then placed her fingers on his wrist.

A moment later, Yue Ling withdrew her right hand and said, "It seems Young Master has suffered a severe injury, and also fell from a great height, causing serious damage to the meridians and bones in both legs."

"You truly are a miraculous doctor, Miss," Ning Chen praised softly.

"I wouldn't dare claim to be a miraculous doctor, but I am curious, Young Master. It's truly a miracle that you survived such injuries. I wonder which miraculous doctor possesses such brilliant medical skills?" Yue Ling asked with great curiosity. In all the world, she had never heard of anyone with such medical expertise.

Ning Chen remained silent, offering no reply.

Yue Ling didn't press further, but slowly said, "Actually, Young Master's injuries aren't entirely without hope. As far as I know, there are at least three things in the world that can heal your leg injuries."

"What things?" Ning Chen's eyes narrowed slightly as he asked.

"The Heavenly Tome of the Eternal Night Divine Cult, the Celestial Pool of the Northern Mongol Royal Court, and the Xiantian Pill from the Great Xia Imperial Palace," Yue Ling said seriously.

"Heh," Ning Chen chuckled softly, saying, "You must be joking, Miss."

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