Wang Hanshan

The Mountain-Shattering Fist pursued the ultimate path of external martial arts, emphasizing breaking skill with force. When a punch was thrown, it was like a Mountain collapsing.

Wang Hanshan had trained this fist art to the pinnacle of perfection. It was said that he had once shattered a ten-meter-thick alloy target plate with a single punch.

The ultimate of "weight."

Xu Wuyi closed the file and leaned back in his chair.

His Great Marsh Heart Image also bore the law of "weight," but its "weight" differed from Wang Hanshan's.

Great Marsh's "weight" was inclusive and congealed, like the earth bearing all things. The Mountain-Shattering Fist's "weight," however, was explosive and destructive, like mountains collapsing and the earth splitting.

Between these two kinds of "weight," which was stronger and which was weaker?

Perhaps there was no distinction between strength and weakness—only different paths.

An announcement sounded, and the train began boarding.

Xu Wuyi rose and followed the crowd toward the platform.

By the time the train left Honghe City, the sky had finally cleared.

Sunlight streamed through the window, warm and pleasant. Xu Wuyi sat by the window, watching the scenery race backward outside.

Farmland, villages, small towns, forests.

Dongjiang Province consisted mainly of plains, with flat terrain and broad, open views.

The train sped along at five hundred kilometers per hour, and the scenery outside blurred into patches of color.

Xu Wuyi closed his eyes and tried to enter a meditative state.

But his mind was somewhat unsettled.

It was neither nervousness nor anticipation, but a faint restlessness. It was as though something deep within his heart was stirring, wanting to break through the soil, yet unable to find a direction.

He opened his eyes and looked out the window.

The sunlight was just right.

Su'an Province, Langya City.

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