The fourth step, the fifth step, the sixth step...
Zhao Cheng stepped forward one step at a time. When he reached the end, he had taken a total of nine steps, and the scene had shifted into a classroom.
Autumn had arrived, yet the summer heat had not dispersed.
At the podium, a tall middle-aged man was writing and drawing on the blackboard, displaying the remarkable skill of drawing circles and squares freehand.
By the window, another Zhao Cheng was lost in a daze. On the surface, he seemed to be listening to the lecture, but in truth, his mind was crumbling apart as he pondered the ultimate meaning of life.
This was where it had all begun. The Panel had manifested at this very point in time, and from then on, the gears of fate had begun to turn.
Before that, the weather had been fine, and time had moved slowly. What he had experienced was the warmth and bustle of ordinary life, and the future he had looked forward to was simply achieving something in swordsmanship and thereby securing a decent life.
At the time, the best future he could envision was probably attaining a certain level of accomplishment in swordsmanship, marrying a wife he found reasonably satisfactory, going from a youth of high spirits with a sword at his side to a life steeped in rice, oil, salt, and firewood. Then, when he grew old, he would face the bright moon alone, occasionally recall the old days, and finally let them dissolve into a smile.
That was the future he had foreseen back then.
As for wearing bright clothes and riding a spirited horse, roaming the world with a sword, fine wine and beautiful women—that belonged to great heroes. It had nothing to do with a small