After their chance encounter and hearty drinking bout, everything returned to normal.
Yi Feng remained immersed in arduous cultivation. His state of mind in this life was exceptionally seasoned; the myriad affairs of the mortal world could no longer sway his heart in Cultivating the Dao. No matter how interesting that man in black had been, at most, he was merely a passerby who had once shared a table and wine with him.
At least, that was what he thought.
Over the next two months,
Yi Feng continued to devote himself to the great Dao of cultivation. He either ventured out in search of legendary secret realms or crossed prefectures to spar with the Heavenly Prodigies of great sects. His cultivation steadily climbed, and his reputation grew ever greater.
As Yi Feng became stronger, more and more people admired him. Quite a few female cultivators even followed his name in pursuit of him; wherever he had been, a group of young beauties would soon come chasing after him.
As the saying went, people feared fame as pigs feared growing fat.
The saying was coarse, but the truth was not. Yi Feng felt it deeply and found it more than he could bear.
Thus, whenever Yi Feng finished a spar or emerged from a secret realm, he would leave as quickly as possible, vanishing soundlessly from the martial world's sight.
With cultivation that surpassed several prefectures, almost no one could track him, and few had ever seen his true face. Yet somehow, the tales of his fame only grew more and more exaggerated, and his admirers became countless.
The martial world rarely saw traces of Yi Feng, yet his legends were everywhere.
Amid such troublesome fervor, the world's adoration became increasingly outrageous. Some people even lingered near the sect Yi Feng