What night was this?

In the distant Far Western Lands, snow fell thick and fast. Heaven and earth stretched into one boundless expanse, as though the world had returned to the dawn of chaos, with no way to tell sky from land.

Fierce winds howled, sending snowflakes whirling and dancing. Far away, a tiny black speck appeared between heaven and earth, moving slowly. No one knew where he had come from; his silhouette was desolate as he trudged on alone.

His gait was strange. He leaned forward, stepped out with one leg, then dragged the other after him. His crippled leg scraped across the snow, carving a shallow rut. He left no footprints behind, only a long furrow that the falling snow soon swallowed.

On he walked, a lone shadow roaming between heaven and earth. The wind sent his long hair flying, and snow piled thickly on his hair and shoulders.

On he walked, as though he meant to reach the end of the sky...

Amid the gleaming white snow, an immense monastery faintly emerged ahead. Snow blanketed its buildings, leaving only a few blue-gray roof ridges exposed.

Bai Xiang Shou stopped and slowly raised his head. His wildly tossing hair veiled his cheeks, and snowflakes clung to his eyebrows, but his eyes were sharp as blades. Through the dense snowfall, he gazed at the three boldly written characters above the gates: "Drepung Monastery."

Shrouded in the vast snowfall, the ancient monastery seemed to have stood there since time immemorial, utterly still and solemn.

Bai Xiang Shou took the wine gourd from his waist, pulled out the stopper, and swallowed a fierce mouthful. The liquor burned down his throat, stirring a thousand thoughts in his heart.

That year, the woman he loved had married his closest friend. They had sent someone to deliver a gilded wedding invitation, and with no one to confide in about the pain piercing his heart, he had come here alone to test his martial learning against the Buddhist arts.

Within three days, he had defeated thirteen experts of the Buddhist Sect in succession, finally disturbing the mighty Buddhist masters in secluded cultivation.

Several eminent monks remained hidden within Drepung Monastery. Though it lay in the remote Far Western Lands, its fame grew by the day, and it had quietly become the foremost authority on Buddhist martial arts throughout the world. Three days of fierce fighting had left him exhilarated. Testing all he had learned and understood against the Buddhist Sect had benefited him greatly.

Then Monk Tingchan appeared and spoke a single sentence to him. It struck like a cudgel to the head, like sacred nectar poured over his crown. His boiling thirst for battle cooled and dispersed, and he departed, his soul dimmed by sorrow.

Yet that lingering obsession became a jar of aged wine brewed from longing, buried deep in his heart to settle and ferment, growing stronger with the years.

That day, Monk Tingchan had said, "If the heart is unmoved, a person will not act rashly. Without rash action, there is no hurt. But when the heart stirs, a person acts recklessly, wounding his body and aching in his bones, and thus comes to know the many sufferings of this world..."

Bai Xiang Shou stood lost in melancholy, remembering the second half of Monk Tingchan's words. "Since you will not turn back, why refuse to forget? Since fate does not bind you, what need is there for vows? All that happens today is like water, leaving no trace. Whatever night tomorrow brings, you will already be strangers!"

No prophecy could have rung truer. What night was this? The past was gone, the monastery remained, and the woman he loved had faded like fragrance, shattered like jade...

Now I have raised my dear friend's son to adulthood, and he has entered the Knowledge and Practice Institute to cultivate. My power has fully recovered. I have mastered my teacher's Confucian martial arts and the True Martial Sect's Taoist inner cultivation methods. All I lack are the Buddhist Sect's true scriptures. No one has broken through to the grandmaster realm in a thousand years, but once I unite the strengths of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism, I will surely succeed. The blood debt I have endured for more than ten years-it is time to collect it.

Bai Xiang Shou took another fierce gulp of wine. With his emotions surging, he could not help throwing back his head and unleashing a long howl. The powerful currents carried by his cry scattered the snow across the sky.

Bells rang within the ancient monastery. Deep and resonant, their notes rolled into the clouds, joining his howl between heaven and earth.

A moment later, the sounds abruptly ceased. Heaven and earth fell silent, leaving only the wind and the soft rustle of falling snow.

Suddenly, a Buddhist invocation sounded through the wind and snow.

"My Buddha is merciful..."

Then a faint rustling rose through the white expanse, like locusts rubbing their wings, like birds shaking their feathers. A shrill chorus of cicadas followed.

Amid the snow filling the sky, the song of cicadas, heard only in the fiercest summer heat, rang out without warning.

Their cries rose on every side, and boundless killing intent descended with the snow.

Bai Xiang Shou's pupils contracted. "Monk Tingchan!"

Before the monastery, the snow suddenly stopped, forming a clear passage free of falling flakes. A man in patchwork robes and straw sandals approached through it. He seemed far away, yet in the blink of an eye, he stood before Bai Xiang Shou.

He threw a punch, and the snow filling the sky faltered. Bai Xiang Shou extended a palm to block his fist, and the snow resumed its drifting fall.

Inside Drepung Monastery's Mahavira Hall, a kindly old monk sat on a meditation cushion. Watching the great, featherlike flakes outside, his face filled with compassion.

"In such a fierce snowstorm, many more sheep, cattle, and horses in the western lands will freeze to death. This winter... will be so hard for the herders to endure..."

"Amitabha." Another old monk beside him pressed his palms together. "Senior brother, you have the heart of a bodhisattva. May this storm pass soon." He paused, then could not resist asking, "In your judgment, senior brother... is Tingchan a match for that man? Should we..."

The kindly old monk shook his head and gazed at the storm beyond the doors. "Though the monks of our monastery have not set foot in the central lands for many years, we have heard something of the various schools and sects. This man's divine abilities are unrivaled, a rarity in this world. Last time, although he defeated our experts one after another, he never truly struck to kill. In his heart... he actually bears no malice. He has returned only to test his martial learning. You heard his howl just now, powerful enough to pierce metal and split stone, sustained without pause... he is no longer the man he was more than a decade ago. Even you or I would have to exert ourselves to defeat him."

The other old monk drew in a sharp breath and said in astonishment, "Senior brother, you mean... he has already touched that threshold, and now lacks only the right opportunity? To think... Li Xingzhi of the Great Chen Kingdom is so formidable that even a mere disciple of his has attained such heights!"

The kindly old monk smiled. "Among those beneath heaven who can stand shoulder to shoulder with our martial uncle, which one has an undeserved reputation? Even when this man stormed Drepung Monastery alone more than ten years ago, our martial uncle could already see that he would never remain a creature confined to a pond. Now wind and cloud are meeting, and the golden-scaled carp is about to become a dragon. Why not ease his way, and in doing so ease our own..."

A sword hissed toward Fang Yizhi from behind. He barely twisted his vital parts out of its path, and the blade grazed his waist, tearing his uniform and drawing thin threads of blood.

Ignoring the enemy behind him, he pressed his attack forward. The man before him gradually lost ground, until a sword thrust pierced him through.

Fang Yizhi turned, raising his sword across his body, and narrowly blocked another attack from behind. He gritted his teeth as vital energy raced through him. A flush rose on his pale face, and sword stroke followed sword stroke, his gale-like assault overwhelming his enemy. After desperately blocking a few blows, the man turned and fled.

Fang Yizhi closed in and slashed down. Hot blood sprayed across his face. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath.

Nearby, five or six men in the same uniform were also finishing off their opponents. One of them, a burly man with a curling beard, was surrounded by three enemies. He fought hard with a long spear, blocking two steel sabers in front of him, while the man behind seized the opening to swing a heavy saber at the back of his neck. Fang Yizhi hurled his sword with all his strength. Like a shooting star, it plunged into the attacker's back.

The bearded man swept the two sabers aside and thrust his spear into one enemy's throat. The man clutched his gushing wound and crumpled. Seizing the moment, the bearded man reversed his spear into the other enemy's chest, then kicked him down, pinning him firmly to the ground.

The bearded man pulled out his blood-drenched spear and gave Fang Yizhi a thumbs-up. "Well done, lad! Once this mission is over, I'll put you down for a major commendation!"

Before he had finished speaking, several feathered arrows flew from the dense woods. Alert as ever, the burly man flung himself sideways to dodge them and shouted, "Enemy attack! Take cover! Form three-man defensive formations..."

This was Fang Yizhi's first battle since joining the Western Army Scout Corps...

The morning sun rose over the shores of the eastern sea. Flocks of white seabirds wheeled overhead, crying, pecking for food, and dancing in the sunlight. Some settled on the beach or floated with the surging tide. Wave after wave rolled in, sending white foam crashing against the black reefs in a magnificent spectacle.

An old man in a blue-green robe stood with his hands behind his back, gazing out to sea.

Behind him, Green Donkey swished his tail and stretched his long neck to lick the cold seawater. He snorted, shook his head in displeasure, and pawed at the sand beneath the reef. Disturbed, a crab burrowed out of the sand and angrily raised both claws. The black donkey nudged it a few times with his hoof, then lifted his head and gave several triumphant brays.

The old man was none other than Li Xingzhi. From his sleeve, he took a palm-wide strip of dark yellow cloth made of some unknown material. He studied it for a long while but still discovered nothing.

Stroking Green Donkey's sleek coat, he sighed softly. "Qiu'er, go and play. I need to make a trip out to sea. I'll find you myself when I return. Don't get too carried away. The locals here have a custom of boiling donkey-hide gelatin. Don't let them catch you and skin you."

Green Donkey brayed several times, swishing his tail incessantly, as though he understood.

Li Xingzhi smiled and waved. "Go on, go on!" Then he stepped into the sea as though walking on dry land, and his blue-green figure vanished amid the waves in an instant...

A luxurious carriage drove up to the gates of the Knowledge and Practice Institute. The driver climbed down and lifted the curtain, and Cui Mengshu, fully recovered, stepped out. Sunlight fell on his handsome, arrogant face. Looking up at the institute's plaque above the entrance, he smiled contemptuously and walked inside.

Outside the small building in the rear courtyard of the Knowledge and Practice Institute's Discipline Hall, He An and Fan Dazhi emerged from their confinement rooms. Both tilted their heads back and closed their eyes, tears streaming down their faces.

Only after a long while did their eyes slowly adjust to the sunlight they had not seen for so long. Breathing in the crisp late-autumn air and looking at the withered crabapple blossoms in the courtyard, they felt as though a lifetime had passed.

They returned to their quarters, bathed, changed into clean clothes, and hurried to class.

Yan Zhongjie was teaching the Guanzi when he glanced outside and saw the two of them hovering timidly at the door, unsure whether to enter or stay out.

His expression darkened. He coughed lightly and said, "Come in. Don't be late again!" He An and Fan Dazhi hurried sheepishly to empty seats in the back row.

The bell rang three times just as Yan Zhongjie finished explaining a passage. He swept an expressionless gaze across the classroom and said coldly, "He An, Fan Dazhi, you have missed a week of lessons. If there is anything you do not understand, you may come to me yourselves." With that, he walked straight out.

The moment their teacher Yan Zhongjie left, the classroom erupted like a boiling pot. Students all began talking at once, and a buzzing filled the room.

"Those two are the famous He An and Fan Dazhi?"

"That's right! Those two characters who got locked up as soon as term started. What talents!"

"Look, the chubby one must be Fan Dazhi. You can tell he loves his snacks..."

"But He An looks so mild and scholarly. He doesn't seem like someone who would stir up trouble. How do you suppose he ended up fighting?"

The female students whispered among themselves, occasionally covering their mouths to laugh.

The male students could not resist crowding over, each eager to glimpse the two legendary figures.