"Leave?" Tang Xiao frowned slightly. " Little Feng, have you encountered a bottleneck in your cultivation? Or do you need any resources? Although the sect is not at its peak now, but..."
"It's not a bottleneck, nor is it a matter of needing resources. Sect Master, Grandfather, Maternal Grandfather, all my companions, it's simply because..."
Tang Feng gently shook his head, a faint smile appearing on his face. "The world is so big, I want to go see it."
Upon hearing this, Yang Wudi looked worried and said, " Little Feng, you just encountered Titled Douluo from the Spirit Hall outside. Leaving the sect now would be extremely dangerous."
Tang Feng gave his grandfather a reassuring look. "Grandpa, don't worry. With my current strength and all my trump cards, the Spirit Hall can only kill me single-handedly if Bibi Dong and Qian Daoliu personally come to the rescue."
Seeing the puzzled looks on everyone's faces, he continued slowly, "Over the years, I've been obsessed with one thing: cultivation and becoming stronger. Every step I take, every thought I have is related to this. It feels like I'm racing against time. I can see the flow of Soul Power, the strength and weakness of my enemies, and the entanglements of different forces, but it seems... I've never truly seen what this continent we live on is really like."
His gaze drifted to the distant clouds outside the hall. "I want to see the local customs and traditions, the landscapes and geography, and to see what vibrant life exists on this land besides the battles between Soul Master and Soul Beast."
Tang Feng paused, then looked at Tang Xiao with sincere eyes. "Sect Master, I know the sect is in dire need of manpower, and I know the outside world is not peaceful. But my departure this time is not in the name of the young sect master of the Clear Sky Sect, nor in the guise of Soul Emperor. I only wish to travel as an ordinary traveler. For me... this is perhaps more important than simply going into seclusion for arduous cultivation. It concerns my state of mind, and the foundation of my future path."
He then looked at his companions, whose faces showed worry and reluctance. "Don't worry, everyone. I have my own way of concealing my presence and will act cautiously. This trip is merely for travel and reflection, not for adventure. Once I find peace in my heart, I will return. Don't slack off in your cultivation."
Tang Xiao and Tang Lie exchanged a glance, both seeing surprise and deep thought in each other's eyes.
They could clearly sense that Tang Feng's decision was not impulsive, but rather the result of careful consideration, which might be the key to his breakthrough of some kind of mental constraint.
Tang Xiao pondered for a moment, then slowly nodded. "A fledgling eagle must eventually soar on its own to appreciate the vastness of the sky. I also traveled extensively when I was young, and I understand your intentions. Go, but remember this: if you encounter an insurmountable crisis, do not act rashly."
Tang Lie nodded slightly. "Alright, from birth until now, you've always been a person with your own ideas. Grandpa believes you can find your own answers, but please send us a message to let us know you're safe and sound when you have the chance. So that we old bones won't worry every day."
A warm feeling welled up in Tang Feng's heart, and he nodded in agreement, "Yes, Grandpa, I definitely will."
Although his companions were reluctant to part with him, they knew that Tang Feng was determined and that the sect leader and the two elders had agreed, so they could not stop him.
Oscar forced a smile, " Brother Feng, remember to try all the local delicacies, and tell me which ones are the best!"
Tang Jian patted him on the shoulder. "Brother, take care!"
Dugu Yan, Ye Lingling, Tai Long, and Bai Chenxiang also offered their words of advice.
The next day, a refreshing morning.
Before the gates of the Clear Sky Sect, a light mist hung in the air.
Tang Feng changed into a very ordinary coarse blue cloth robe, wore a pair of hemp shoes, tied his long hair up simply, and carried a small bag on his back.
He had completely concealed the powerful aura of Soul Emperor, and now he looked no different from an ordinary farm boy about to embark on a long journey, except that his eyes were exceptionally bright and calm.
Tang Xiao, Tang Lie, Yang Wudi, and their companions who had received the news all came to the mountain gate to see them off.
Tang Feng bowed deeply to the crowd. Then, he turned and strode forward.
He walked slowly, step by step, steadily treading the stone steps outside the mountain gate, heading downhill. He didn't look back; his figure gradually blurred in the morning mist, finally disappearing at the end of the winding mountain path.
This time, there were no speeding carriages, no clear destination, and no tasks to complete. There were only a pair of feet, a heart yearning to rediscover the world, and a long, winding road leading to the everyday life of ordinary people and the vast landscapes of the land.
A mountain breeze blows, fluttering the banners in front of the gate, as if bidding farewell to that ordinary figure who disappeared into the clouds.
Tang Feng's journey—a journey to shed all his halos and shackles and return to the true nature of life—begins here. The panorama of the mainland will unfold before him in a completely new way.
After parting at the mountain gate, the young man changed from white robes to plain clothes and embarked on a long journey.
Tang Feng shed the weight of the Clear Sky Hammer, as well as his identity as the young sect leader. He relinquished all his Soul Power and sense of superiority, and with the utmost equality, like a drop of water, he merged into the vast and silent human world of the Douluo Continent.
There was no direction, only the rising sun to the east as the initial landmark.
He traveled eastward, walking through crisscrossing fields and resting beside villages where smoke curled from chimneys.
When hungry, they would do work for others in exchange for a meal; when tired, they would meditate under a big tree at the village entrance, in the ruins of a dilapidated temple, or in someone's home.
Tang Feng's footsteps measured the texture of the fields. In spring, he helped an old farmer hold the plow, feeling the slight itch and moisture of the soil awakening under his feet.
In the summer, Tang Feng wielded his sickle alongside the farmers under the scorching sun. Sweat soaked through his coarse cloth shirt, his backs burned from the sun, and his ears were filled with the rustling sound of rice stalks rubbing against each other and the tired but satisfied panting.
In autumn, he shared the joy of the harvest, but also listened to the old farmer muttering to himself in front of the granary, worrying about whether he could survive the cold winter after deducting rent, taxes, and interest. This worry hung like a dark cloud over his brief joy.
In winter, Tang Feng huddled in the drafty woodshed, sitting with the host family around a small pot of weak charcoal fire, listening to them tell stories of their clan, neighborhood gossip, and their simplest yet most powerless prayers for the coming year's wind and rain.
He ate the coarsest rice, drank raw water from the well, and slept in a corner piled with hay. His Soul Power flowed quietly within him, nourishing his body, but no longer manifested outwardly.
Tang Feng learned to identify wild vegetables, understood how to predict the weather by observing clouds, and often helped farmers repair their farm tools.
He chatted with the old men in the fields, their wrinkles etched with the marks of time, listening to them recount the burdens of life in the most straightforward language: the city lord had increased the rent with "land tax" again this year; the lord's young master had trampled half the village's rice seedlings while hunting, and no one dared to speak out; the Zhang family's child from the next village had been found to possess a trace of Soul Power, and the whole family had sold land and borrowed money to send him to the Soul Master Academy in the city, not knowing whether it was a blessing or a curse...
Their sorrows were so specific, concerning their next meal, their children's marriages, and whether they would live to see the next harvest season.
Their joy was so simple: a timely rain, an extra three or five bushels of grain, a letter from their son far away bringing news of their safety, and the toothless smile of their newborn grandson.