A faint breeze drifted past, lightly caressing the space around the two figures. Yet, at that very moment, the breeze seemed to freeze abruptly, vanishing into thin air right there.
After Yu Jinglei uttered those words, He Yiming hesitated for only a brief moment before completely dispersing his innate Zhenqi throughout his body.
Facing the unfathomably deep elder before him, he harbored a distinct urge to engage and test his limits.
In martial cultivation, progress is achieved only through ceaseless challenges against progressively stronger masters. Even had Yu Jinglei never mentioned it, He Yiming would have sought an opportunity to request guidance from this man. Now that the elder had spoken, He Yiming could not be more pleased.
As his Zhenqi gathered further, He Yiming’s body began to tremble almost imperceptibly. Each slight quiver seemed to exert a subtle, almost magical influence upon the surrounding environment.
The power of the Water Ripple Technique gradually spread outward, even beginning to affect the space immediately surrounding Yu Jinglei.
In the eyes of this Supreme Elder of the Hengshan lineage, although He Yiming remained physically rooted to the spot, he had already transformed into an ethereal shadow. His actual form had dissolved into mist, wind, and rain, becoming utterly intangible.
A flicker of delighted surprise once again crossed Yu Jinglei’s eyes. Witnessing the vision of wind, rain, and cloud that He Yiming now commanded, he finally confirmed one thing: He Yiming truly possessed the exceptional strength capable of rivaling any of the three great elders of their sect.
For one so young to have cultivated to this level—what ultimate realm might he reach if given the full support of the sect?
The thought made Yu Jinglei’s gaze burn with even greater eagerness.
Suddenly, his vision blurred, and He Yiming vanished. Instantly, his sight was enveloped by a pervasive, swirling mist.
Yu Jinglei calmly extended a hand and lightly slapped in a direction next to him.
This seemingly careless strike, delivered with no apparent effort, instantly dispelled the surrounding mist. It vanished as if chased away by the red sun rising over the horizon, eradicating every trace of the vapor.
He Yiming's form ghosted out of the dissipating cloud, and the moment his figure reappeared, the mist dissolved entirely.
In He Yiming’s eyes shone excitement and an intense eagerness to continue.
Although he had previously defeated Cheng Fu using the technique of Wind, Rain, Cloud, and Mist, he knew this elder was leagues beyond Cheng Fu. Nevertheless, the elder’s formidable power exceeded his imagination; he had discerned He Yiming’s position from within a nascent cloudscape at a glance, and that seemingly casual palm strike held an unbelievable, profound force. It had sent him flying with effortless ease, preventing any continuation of his planned sequence of maneuvers.
Only then did he grasp that the strength possessed by this elder far surpassed that of every other Xiantian expert he had encountered before.
Compared to this man, Cheng Fu, Shui Xuanjin, and even Yao Daoren seemed utterly weak.
In terms of raw power, it was like the difference between an adult and a child—no matter how hard the child strained, it could inflict no harm upon the adult.
Yet, instead of alarm, He Yiming felt joy. In the pursuit of martial arts, only such overwhelming opponents could drive him toward continuous breakthroughs and ultimately the pinnacle of the Martial Dao.
His movement swift as lightning, after retreating, He Yiming stomped down heavily with both feet. The instant his soles connected with the earth, the entire Medicine Garden seemed to tremble.
Though the caretakers tending the herbs could not perceive the details of the clash, they instinctively started, looking toward that direction as if sensing something.
After all, those tending the garden were elites of the Spirit Medicine Peak. Even without any Xiantian masters among them, they had witnessed Xiantian experts many times and possessed a subtle awareness.
He Yiming used the momentum to leap, but instead of continuing his assault on Yu Jinglei, he bolted away like a streak of lightning. Simultaneously, a faint, nearly inaudible voice drifted back: “Let’s fight again once we reach the foot of the mountain.”
Yu Jinglei chuckled softly and floated after him with a swift, flowing movement.
He Yiming darted through a courtyard, pausing for only a second before reappearing. The only difference was the rectangular bundle now strapped to his back.
Yu Jinglei glanced at the package, and a knowing smile immediately curved his lips. But this glance only deepened his pleasant surprise.
It seemed this young man’s true pride lay not in his fists and kicks, but in the great broadsword strapped to his back.
Their speed was so great that no one perceived their departure. In an instant, they had left the mountainside and reached the base. Just then, an equally rapid figure streaked upward—it was Yao Daoren, who had returned in haste.
Neither He Yiming nor Yu Jinglei acknowledged him, passing by as if he were invisible.
Yao Daoren paused momentarily. By the time the two were a hundred meters ahead, this Hengshan Elder let out a wry smile. He reflected that his first encounter with He Yiming had ended in a fight, and now his Martial Uncle’s meeting with the youth was proving no calmer.
With a light shift of his feet, Yao Daoren changed direction and pursued them.
However, after a considerable interval, sheer horror dawned in Yao Daoren’s eyes. He suddenly realized that the distance between himself and the pair ahead was steadily increasing.
Though he was exerting his absolute maximum effort—straining with every fiber of his being—it was undeniable that he could no longer see or even sense their presence.
The only reason he could continue the pursuit at all was the miraculous external sensory perception inherent to Xiantian masters.
Finally, Yao Daoren stopped. He gazed into the distance where a dense jungle blocked his view.
With a long sigh, an inexplicable feeling of crushing dejection welled up within him. This sensation was so potent that he hadn't felt it even when losing ground against He Yiming previously.
Yet, Yao Daoren was, after all, a great master who had long since entered the Xiantian realm. In moments, he struggled free from the lethargy.
When he fought He Yiming before, although he was at a disadvantage, it was partly due to the clash of techniques. Moreover, Yao Daoren still held back his ultimate secret move, so he had retained a degree of confidence when facing He Yiming.
But now, in a pure test of movement techniques (Qingshen Gongfa), he had been utterly distanced by the two ahead.
This could only mean one thing: his movement technique was simply not on the same tier as He Yiming’s or Yu Jinglei’s.
The realization left a bitter taste in Yao Daoren’s mouth.
It was perhaps understandable that Yu Jinglei possessed such profound movement skills, but for He Yiming, a mere sixteen-year-old, to command such superior skill in Qingshen Gongfa was truly hard to accept.
Yao Daoren stood quietly, gazing ahead. In a daze, his thoughts seemed to drift back in time.
He recalled the moment, shortly after he ascended to the Xiantian realm, when his own teacher had looked at him silently with an expression he couldn't then comprehend.
That look, complex and profound, was something he would never forget.
And only now did Yao Daoren dimly grasp the true meaning encapsulated within that gaze.
Wind churns and clouds gather; new generations of masters replace the old, each holding sway for a few decades.
Yao Daoren sighed mournfully, turned, and began making his way back toward Spirit Medicine Peak.
※※※※
He Yiming’s speed continually increased because he could distinctly sense Yu Jinglei behind him slowly accelerating as well. If he didn't push faster, he would soon be caught.
It was precisely this intense pressure that further unlocked his latent potential.
His current speed reached the absolute limit he had ever achieved in his life. But the faster He Yiming ran, the more exhilarating and unbridled the feeling became; he even experienced a sense of ecstatic lightness, as if he could run forever.
Simultaneously, his Zhenqi circulated smoothly, seeming to harmonize increasingly with the world around him. Slowly, a potent euphoria, usually reserved for moments of sudden enlightenment, began to bloom in his mind.
With him as the epicenter, the entire forest seemed to awaken. Every giant tree, every blade of grass, appeared to radiate vital, life-giving energy associated with the Wood element. His body acted like a massive vortex, greedily drawing this vital energy inward.
Although he was not consciously cultivating, the amount of external life energy he absorbed was in no way inferior to that gained while practicing the Xiantian Withered Wood Art.
The vast energy accumulated, steadily building within him, pushing toward the highest possible realm.
Yu Jinglei, trailing behind, grew increasingly alarmed. In his perception, as they raced forward, He Yiming seemed to merge ever more deeply with his surroundings. Especially the inexhaustible surge of life energy emanating from the dense woods poured wildly toward He Yiming.
His aura surged, rising steadily until it reached the very peak of the Hundred Dispersal Heaven realm.
At this point, Yu Jinglei could no longer contain his inner astonishment.
A sixteen-year-old youth had genuinely managed to condense his Zhenqi to such a degree; just one step further, and he would break through the barrier of the Hundred Dispersal Heaven and advance to Yu Jinglei’s own realm, the First Line of Heaven.
One thought spun repeatedly in his mind: Such genius, such incredible genius...
Suddenly, the life energy He Yiming absorbed reached the maximum capacity his body could hold, and his aura simultaneously ascended to an unprecedented, ultimate height.
If He Yiming had displayed this terrifying momentum when fighting Lu Xinwen or Cheng Fu, those two would have instantly abandoned any thought of engagement and fled as far as possible.
His feet struck the ground again, and he sprang high into the air. But this time, He Yiming did not propel himself forward; instead, he lunged fiercely toward Yu Jinglei, who had been relentlessly pursuing him from behind.
His figure vanished mid-air, followed by a rapid sound echoing from the ground—countless impacts like beans popping in a hot pan.
He Yiming’s feet hammered the earth an uncountable number of times. With every contact, a faint sound, like gentle mountain rain falling, resonated. Concurrently, he formed his most adept technique, the Hidden Needle Seal, with both hands.
With every footfall, a beam of Zhenqi, thinner than a cow’s hair and almost impossible to detect, shot from his hands.
These Zhenqi threads flew toward Yu Jinglei like a sudden, torrential downpour, spreading across every corner as if trying to soak the entire forest.
He Yiming was completely immersed in this maneuver, a look of profound satisfaction crossing his eyes.
The effectiveness of this move had reached its absolute zenith. Even if Cheng Fu and Yao Daoren were caught within it, they would have to pay a significant price to escape.
Yu Jinglei’s face remained impassive, but his demeanor grew solemn; the casual air he held initially was completely gone.
Facing the deluge of needle-like Zhenqi that seemed to cover the sky, a greenish hue suddenly enveloped his body, and his cheeks visibly deflated.
Then, every single needle-like Zhenqi projectile He Yiming unleashed struck him.
However, upon contact, all the Zhenqi emitted a series of dull 'thud' sounds, as if steel needles had pierced wood, vanishing instantly without a trace.
He Yiming’s eyes narrowed sharply. Looking at Yu Jinglei’s face, he gasped, “Withered Wood Art?”
Yu Jinglei laughed aloud, and his face immediately returned to normal, but the greenish tint on his body remained, growing deeper instead.
A wry smile touched He Yiming’s lips; the confidence that had just surged within him suffered a severe blow.
His seemingly simple Hidden Needle Seal had required him to run for half a day, absorb vast amounts of Wood element energy from the forest, push his aura to its peak, and only then execute the hand seal technique.
It could be said that the power of this attack represented the absolute limit of his current capability—nothing short of activating all his potential through the Five Elements Circulation or the Thirty-Six Mountain Splitting Forms could yield greater power.
Yet, even so, the countless Zhenqi needles failed to repel Yu Jinglei, failing even to pierce his protective aura. For He Yiming, whose techniques had always been overwhelmingly effective, this was deeply unacceptable.
He Yiming instinctively reached toward his back, his fingers brushing against the great broadsword, but he stopped immediately.
This was merely a spar; unleashing that final skill might not be appropriate.
Seemingly reading He Yiming’s mind, Yu Jinglei smiled gently. “Elder He, whatever ultimate skill you possess, please deploy it. Do not hold back; you cannot injure this old man.”
His words were brimming with absolute confidence, naturally carrying an air of condescending pride.
He Yiming nodded deeply. “Elder Yu, I possess one remaining blade technique. Though only a single move, it is my ultimate, hidden ace. Please be careful.”
Saying this, he slowly unfastened the ropes and scabbard, drawing the great broadsword.
His movements were unhurried, devoid of any element of showmanship, yet every action possessed a unique rhythm, as if completely integrated with the surrounding heavens and earth.
A massive confidence, perhaps a hundred times greater than before, flooded He Yiming’s heart.
Once the great broadsword was fully drawn and assembled in his hands, He Yiming seemed to transform. His aura subtly strained against its limits, achieving a height that inspired awe.
Since the first time He Yiming had held the great broadsword, relying on its might, he had never been defeated.
When he channeled his internal energy or Zhenqi entirely through the broadsword, whatever stood in his path proved instantly fragile.
Now, grasping this weapon of such profound significance to him once more, his confidence soared like sesame seeds sprouting rapidly.
The surrounding wind seemed to still; everything approaching this area fell under the dominion of the broadsword’s might.
He Yiming gripped the blade with both hands and slowly raised it overhead. Inside him, the fundamental Five Elements Zhenqi circulated and transformed like flowing water.
Perhaps because his opponent was so overwhelmingly powerful, He Yiming’s entire fighting spirit was ignited at this moment.
Almost the instant his great broadsword cleared his head, powerful streams of Zhenqi surged wildly into it. The massive blade lit up brilliantly, like a small sun suddenly appearing in the dense forest.
Gazing at the dazzling, splattering gleam of the blade, Yu Jinglei’s expression became unprecedentedly serious.
He could clearly sense the terrifying power coalescing within this single weapon.
In the face of this power, everything else seemed insignificant, and even he felt a profound sense of danger rising within him.
Yu Jinglei’s expression shifted slightly. He was certain He Yiming’s cultivation remained at the Hundred Dispersal Heaven level, yet the power unleashed by this one technique seemed in no way inferior to his own.
A horrifying thought flashed through his mind.
Could it be that He Yiming had mastered some legendary, profound skill allowing him to challenge those of a higher realm?
With a sweep of his sleeve, Yu Jinglei immediately unleashed an aura equally potent. That massive presence surged toward He Yiming like a tiger released from its cage, utterly unflustered.
The two auras collided violently in mid-air, accompanied by a sharp, resounding boom. Finally, He Yiming’s strike descended like thunder and lightning.
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※※※※ White Crane’s sworn friend, 'I Am The Ruthless One,' has started a new book. Look at that awful name he chose—'I Am The Ruthless One.' I hold it in utter contempt. Everyone go throw a couple of bricks at it and collect it for me. When a demon carries the wings of an angel and bears the halo of a saint, no matter what evil he commits, the truth will always be on his side! Book ID 1507040, Title: Nixiu (Reversed Cultivation).