The golden sand subtly gave way beneath their feet, dull thuds of explosions echoing faintly through the thick earth. Five special forces soldiers watched the landscape shift in silence. Where moments before there had been flat expanse, a massive vortex was now swirling at the center, the sun-baked gold sand steadily sinking towards the core.

Occasionally, bursts of air pressure punched through the surface, lofting plumes of golden grit high into the sky, lending a bizarre, almost tourist-like atmosphere to the scene.

Ruined. In the blink of an eye, a massive, formidable Insect-Warrior base had been utterly destroyed by the action of a single person.

Jessica. Weir’s sapphire eyes widened in shock. Now she understood the federal government's deep, almost incomprehensible anxieties regarding Fifteen-Star Martial Artists. The gap between Fourteen and Fifteen stars was only one level, yet it represented a true, chasm-like difference in power.

A sudden gust of wind swept past, carrying the golden sand forward for a dozen meters before it settled again.

Jessica. Weir subtly glanced at Tai Fen, whose expression remained utterly calm. If all Fifteen-Star Martial Artists were monsters, then the young Lieutenant Colonel beside her was a monster among monsters!

To achieve such devastation against a base with such formidable defensive capabilities would be an exceedingly difficult, perhaps impossible, task even for a Fifteen-Star Martial Artist.

Yet, with Tai Fen utilizing his array of combat tools, a battle that should have been utterly brutal had devolved into his personal showcase.

A giant transport aircraft downed a Super Phantom fighter jet; a Red Lotus Phantom swept aside countless missile launchers, alongside dozens of mobile armors—he was a veritable war machine. No other Fifteen-Star powerhouse fought with such ferocity.

This level of strength was unique among the Federation's Fifteen-Stars! Jessica. Weir watched Tai Fen, suddenly finding her vision slightly strained; the young Lieutenant Colonel’s future was limitless!

Tai Fen tilted his head back, facing the searing sun. The dry, hot wind gently stirred his black hair as he spoke in an even tone, "Call for support."

Jessica. Weir paused momentarily before activating the advanced miniature computer she carried, sending the intelligence and positioning data swiftly back to military headquarters.

Three hours later, a vertical take-off and landing aircraft appeared before them.

The hatch opened, and a middle-aged man clad in camouflage grinned, flashing a thumbs-up to the six figures. "Ladies! Congratulations! You finished well ahead of schedule."

Lu Han and Lu Chu exchanged wry smiles. With a commanding officer like Tai Fen leading the charge—an absolute rampaging beast bulldozing every obstacle in his path—finishing the mission later would have been the true challenge.

"Get aboard!" the soldier shouted, his voice straining to overcome the roar of the engines, beckoning them toward the aircraft bay.

Lu Han and the other four boarded in sequence, only to realize with dawning confusion that their squad commander, Qin Fen, was nowhere to be seen. They all turned back, looking quizzically at their captain, who stood motionless below the aircraft, showing no inclination to board.

Qin Fen turned, gazing out at the seemingly endless desert. "You all go ahead. I think I'll walk around here for a bit."

Walk around here? Walk through the Sahara Desert? Lu Han and the others exchanged bewildered glances. While there were certainly people who enjoyed traversing great deserts to claim some sort of personal triumph, they always did so with extensive preparation, complete with instruments and massive reserves of supplies.

Their current commander, however, seemed to have made this decision on a whim—to trek through the desert on foot.

Even for a Fifteen-Star Martial Artist, traversing the Sahara without any resupply was no easy feat. The temperature soared during the day, only to plunge to glacial cold at night. Nature's might remained a colossal threat to even Fifteen-Star practitioners; a single misstep could mean burial in the sands.

"Go on," Qin Fen waved them off, his gaze fixed on a distant plume of dust raised by a powerful gust. "A desert spanning millions of years—what history, what indelible mark does that hold? I want to feel its true essence."

The five exchanged knowing, slightly bitter smiles. Here, Qin Fen was the highest authority; his words were law.

Watching the aircraft rapidly ascend and vanish toward the horizon, Qin Fen slowly lowered his line of sight, focusing on the massive, golden dunes creeping sluggishly in the distance. "I haven't relaxed my martial path this past year. Two months immersed in the Martial Arts Compendium filled my foundations extensively, but the speed of my progress has begun to slow compared to the initial explosion. The burst phase isn't over, but the pace of my advancement has already decelerated, unseen by others..."

From the moment the airship crossed into the airspace above the Sahara, Qin Fen had understood the reason for the slowdown: experience. His personal life experience was insufficient, and the time spent in the Compendium had confined him strictly to the act of martial arts, not the world of the martial path.

The notes of various masters had broadened his understanding and deepened his foundation. Yet, some of the dust from those very notes had settled upon his martial heart.

This contamination, masked by the sheer, vast momentum of the Divine Path, would have continued to influence him had he not flown low over the desert before the air strike. He would have missed the optimal moment to purify his martial heart, consigning him to become merely a Martial Arts Master in life, with the Martial Arts Grandmaster realm forever out of reach.

Qin Fen recalled the countless classic texts he had poured over this past year. Though he had integrated and absorbed them into his own path, had he not also been momentarily misled by the dazzling array of techniques?

Fortunately, in the short period just before striking the base, flying near-ground across the desert at reckless speed had shattered a misconception he had never noticed before.

The boundless desert, unchanging for millennia—what kind of imprint was that? What could possibly endure? No matter how divinely gifted or exceptionally brilliant one might be, how could one withstand the assault of time?

Millions of years of history—what kind of profound spirit did that represent? Qin Fen closed his eyes, slowly absorbing everything around him. The Divine Path followed the path of immense, peerless grandeur and profound weight. The Sahara had stood firm for eons; how could the fleeting brilliance of typical martial geniuses compare?

Integrate the million-year consciousness of the desert, the very soul of this land, into the martial art of the fist! A dawning clarity, like clouds parting to reveal the sun, swept over Qin Fen's mind.

In an instant, Qin Fen’s body, true energy, and flesh seemed, for the first time, truly unified. Spirit, vital energy, and intent blended harmoniously.

Inner and outer achieved perfect unity! Qin Fen’s pupils snapped open—a year of confusion resolved in a single moment of enlightenment! The fog lifted, and the moon shone clear.

It wasn't a realization, but a sensory comprehension—a feeling experienced simultaneously by body and heart! A slight smile touched Qin Fen’s eyes. This comprehension had grazed the threshold, yet it was far from complete. To truly grasp the millennia of glory held by the Sahara, more time was needed.

Walk with the body, observe with the eyes, feel with the heart! To understand the Sahara’s eons of glory, one must truly communicate with it, become a part of it, to truly comprehend and absorb it.

For now, Tai Fen had merely found and pushed open the door, but he had yet to step through and claim the glory that would bring true elevation.

Propose marriage! He absolutely must! But having witnessed the power of the Martial Venerable’s palm strike, Tai Fen knew that merely possessing that unstoppable aura would not truly gain Song Wendong's approval.

With increased strength and broadened perspective, Tai Fen increasingly understood Song Wendong’s perspective. As a prospective son-in-law who fell outside his established plans, his pursuit, without the elder's validation, felt like an encroachment upon his authority.

Having been disqualified, forcing all other contenders into the hospital, was already a direct confrontation with the honor and majesty of a Divine Beast.

What was a Divine Beast Martial Artist? A being seated high above the common world. A fledgling youngster attempting to touch the inverse scale of a Divine Beast was like a lone wolf walking the waste, charging into the territory of a baboon troop.

How could a lion not roar in such a situation?

The proposal was merely an attitude, a declaration from Tai Fen to the Qilin spirit that he would absolutely not give up. But attitude alone was insufficient; even his current level of strength was not enough.

Strength! Before a Divine Beast Martial Artist, without overwhelming power, approval would never be granted.

Qin Fen was grateful for the mission assigned by the Serpent King, which had allowed him to witness the sheer immensity of the desert. The history spanning millions of years in this place—truly deciphering it was no simple endeavor.

The relentless attacks that perpetually haunted the desert reignited in his mind. Qin Fen gently closed his eyes. Instructor Heban from the new recruit camp, the Gun King and other instructors, the once fierce Pu brothers, his opponents in the New Thai Boxing ring, the assassination attempts in the Golden Triangle, the fierce loyalty displayed during the island rescue—the faces and events of countless martial artists unrolled before him like a vast scroll.

After a long, long time, Qin Fen slowly opened his eyes. Everything from the waist down was already completely buried by yellow sand. He took a deep breath, as if attempting to inhale the very soul of the desert into his lungs. His entire system of blood and true energy began to churn and surge; the sand imprisoning his body moved as if sentient, like reptiles slowly crawling away to either side.

They did not move quickly, but their rhythm was perfect, slow, grain by grain, visible to the naked eye as each piece of sand gently rolled aside.

As the sand receded, Qin Fen’s body gave a slight tremor, shaking off the dust that floated into the air. It seemed this tremor did more than dislodge surface dirt; it shook off the accumulated martial dust settled deep in his marrow. He felt utterly unburdened, his spirit clear and refreshed.

The day had darkened. The scorching air had somehow transformed into wind that felt capable of slicing flesh.

The desert was like this: during the day, it burned with fierce passion, capable of roasting everything alive. At night, it became a cold black widow, capable of freezing everything into solid ice.

These were two entirely different temperaments, yet they mirrored the Yin and Yang of the martial path in an unexpected harmony. This was the desert's other face—it too held millions of years of history, a history and spirit entirely distinct from its daytime aspect.

Qin Fen walked into the whipping wind. He was barefoot, having discarded his combat boots, his soles feeling the icy cold of the sand. Only by being truly close to the desert could he better understand and know it.

The wind intensified, and the ambient temperature continued to drop. Sometime later, several clouds drifted across the sky.

The desert did not truly lack rain; the problem was that the sand possessed no capacity to retain moisture, which was completely evaporated by the searing sun during the day.

The night rain was not true rain either. Temperatures below freezing turned every raindrop into hail—some as tiny as millet seeds, others as large as small dumplings or baozi.

The wind howled, but Qin Fen maintained his quiet focus. His pace was steady and measured; he made no attempt to rush in a desperate effort to cross the desert sooner.

Two days later, Qin Fen encountered his first oasis in the desert.

It was a modest patch of green, centered around a small, clear lake. He knelt down, looking at his reflection in the water.

For two days, Qin Fen had not used his true energy to conserve body moisture, nor had he employed martial arts to regulate his metabolic rate.

Everything had returned to the origin point of a common man. Only by standing at the origin could one truly see the path ahead. Only by ceasing the use of martial arts, returning to the absolute baseline, could one discern the flaws in one's own martial path.

And only by returning to the beginning, to the absolute starting point, could one truly connect with nature and be understood by it.

He stuck out his parched tongue, gently licking his lips, which were cracked from dehydration, feeling a slight sting unlike any before.

He cupped his hands, drawing up a pool of clear water and pouring it into his mouth. A burst of sweetness instantly flooded his entire palate. Qin Fen closed his eyes, sensing the minute changes as the water traveled down his throat.

His body felt like a dried-out tree suddenly blessed by rain, instantly coming alive! This was not the revival of mere physical function, but the revival of the very breath of life!

Every organ in his body, he realized, possessed its own emotion, something he had never truly perceived before.

Qin Fen scooped up more water and drank, then lay quietly on the patch of grass, basking in the sunlight, feeling everything within the sand beneath him.

This was the desert—ferocious, merciless. This was the oasis—the embodiment of gentleness amid the desert's cruelty.

The desert’s mercilessness was rigid and forceful; its tenderness was fluid like water. Both strength and softness existed within the desert, yet people were more often blinded by its brutal might, failing to see its gentler aspect.

Mercilessness encompassed death, while tenderness nurtured life.

Qin Fen gasped deeply, the dry air meeting his newly moistened mouth, creating a unique sensation he’d never known.

Making some adjustments, he stood up again and stepped back onto the vast, rolling desert. Two days of experience were insufficient to fully absorb everything it held, let alone comprehend its soul.