The endless desert; Qin Fen walked, his pace sometimes quick, sometimes slow, constantly fluctuating. He had unconsciously merged with this colossal wasteland, becoming agile with the rising wind and utterly still when it ceased.

The dunes of the Sahara sometimes rolled endlessly, forming immense sand walls that rivaled the Great Wall. Qin Fen used no Zhenqi, no navigational technology to discern direction; he simply followed his instincts, sleeping when tired and walking when awake.

A month passed. Qin Fen’s body, tempered by sandstorms and sunlight, gradually took on a coppery hue. His sustenance was limited to non-poisonous scorpions and sand snakes, his body absorbing the most primal nourishment the desert offered. He had shed some weight, yet felt even more robust and healthy.

In his quiet peregrination, Qin Fen needed no conscious effort to boost his five senses; he could feel the subtle shifts in the surrounding environment—the wind speed and direction far off, and even the precise flow pattern radiating outward as the grains beneath his feet were displaced.

By existing in this most natural state for so long, Qin Fen gradually began to merge with the desert itself. His blood, his body, even his spirit, started to blend, droplet by droplet. He sought nothing deliberately, nor did he try to forget anything; everything unfolded in its most natural course, his mind and body absorbing the millions of years of glory etched into the Sahara.

In the scorching heat, a furnace masquerading as weather, Qin Fen felt nothing at all; his body even began regulating itself to conserve moisture and prevent loss.

The dust of the martial path seemed to be blown away by the desert storms; the hailstones that hammered down by night seemed to absorb the desert’s historical imprint, rousing a brutal aspect within that shredded the dross clinging to his Wudao, rendering his very spirit purer.

After more than a month of walking, Qin Fen moved from the initial agony of dizziness, chapped lips, and weak limbs under the sun, to a state where he had completely adapted to the environment, forgetting about refrigerated drinks and supreme martial arts techniques; he felt utterly liberated.

“It’s going to thunder,” Qin Fen murmured, looking up at the sky. Seconds later, a bolt of lightning cracked in the clear air from nowhere. A faint, pleased smile touched the corner of his lips.

It was an ineffable sensation—not something the Sahara had whispered to him, nor a conclusion drawn from his prior learned skills, but a raw, indefinable instinct.

Several more flashes followed, and the deep rumble of thunder rolled incessantly. A hundred silver serpents writhed within the cloud cover, displaying a spectacle akin to warring factions rising up to contest the realm.

Qin Fen lay down, spreading his limbs in a perfect ‘X’ shape, welcoming the torrents of rain descending from the sky in the most comfortable posture, washing away the dust of the sand and purifying the martial essence that was not yet entirely refined.

Another thunderclap shook the earth, causing the yellow sand to tremble minutely, its receding echo traveling through the air toward the deep distance.

Crack after crack of thunder split the sky, and at some unknown point, the beating of Qin Fen’s heart synchronized perfectly with these sonic explosions.

A person standing in the desert is a part of the desert; why should the thunder overhead be any different?

Qin Fen deliberately did nothing. Forcing nutritional input, he reasoned, would never be as healthy as the body’s instinctive absorption; only instinct avoids gathering impurities.

The desert rain came quickly and departed just as fast.

In a blink, the downpour vanished. Qin Fen looked up at the brilliant sun, slowly surveying the endless yellow sands surrounding him. They were eternal; they had existed for millions of years and were certain to exist for millions more!

In that instant, Qin Fen’s spirit seemed to truly comprehend the centuries of glory held by the Sahara! It had never truly been conquered! It had never conceded being conquered by humanity! Those who traversed it carrying technological artifacts produced by humans, using various tools to complete a crossing, had not truly conquered it!

They had merely passed through a great desert and experienced its cruelty. They had not conquered the Sahara, for their minds were always fixed on leaving during the crossing—and how could one who always yearns to leave conquer the Sahara, which has existed for centuries?

Could centuries of glory be erased by a single passage assisted by technology?

In a flash! Qin Fen’s mind expanded limitlessly, vast enough to encompass everything he could see, including the sky above. Every cell in his body trembled simultaneously. The Zhenqi that had been dormant for days surged upward, flooding his entire being once more. He settled into his stance, sinking his waist, dropping his shoulders, and pulling back his elbow, unleashing a punch.

Zhenqi and blood boiled in that instant! The grains of sand clinging to his rain-soaked clothes, seemingly subjected to immense shockwaves, suddenly flew away from the fabric.

This strike—Zhenqi fused with boiling blood—flowed with incomparable smoothness to the surface of his fist, instantly returning to his waist and erupting powerfully from his legs!

BOOM! Dust sprayed high into the air. The soft, poorly conductive yellow sand vibrated under the force of Qin Fen’s Zhenqi, soaring straight toward the heavens in a column a hundred meters wide, darkening the sky.

Qin Fen tapped lightly with his toe, his body floating gracefully above the swirling dust. The glory of the Sahara was imbued within his fist technique; only the one who truly received this punch would ever know what the glory of the Sahara truly meant.

Ten more days passed, and Qin Fen walked out of the Sahara. It was not a deliberate act of leaving; it felt as though the great desert itself was seeing him off—only those truly acknowledged by the desert are permitted to depart.

Qin Fen turned back to look at the boundless sands, a feeling that was incredibly esoteric but utterly comprehensible only to those who have truly immersed themselves in feeling everything within it.

Qin Fen found a nearby military base, and upon revealing his identity as a Lieutenant Colonel, he was immediately treated with deference.

Snake King had already alerted the African Military Command through established channels. Qin Fen’s performance in the Rookie Competition had already earned him some renown there, and files containing his profile were kept in the computers of the bases guarding the Sahara.

A military aircraft soon arrived. Qin Fen boarded an airplane once again after a long absence. Looking down from above at the Sahara where he had lived for days, an inexpressible emotion welled up in his heart. This month of primal, simple living—eating, walking, sleeping, foraging—this return to the origin allowed him to see a world he had never glimpsed before.

So, the world could be viewed this way. Qin Fen gently closed his eyes. His solo trek in Qinghai years ago differed greatly from this. Back then, his heart was set high, gazing upon the majestic mountains and terrain; now, having reached the Master realm and returned to the starting point, he saw an entirely different world.

The plane tore through the resistance of the air, roaring through the sky. Qin Fen no longer watched the Sahara beneath him; he simply rested with his eyes closed, his breathing even, like a sleeping infant, his chest rising and falling no longer with the slow, forceful rhythm of a martial arts master.

The soldier beside him watched Qin Fen with astonishment. His breathing resembled that of an ordinary person, showing no hint of martial power. Yet, upon closer inspection, it differed from a normal person; he looked like a newborn babe, his breathing possessing an indescribable naturalness. If observed too intently, one might experience the illusion that this man was more akin to a tree than a human being.

Sleeping? Awake? The soldier dared not guess, his doubtful eyes tinged with envy. This young man had reportedly achieved great merit in the desert; perhaps upon returning to the East Asian Military Department in Shengjing, his rank would be elevated again?

“Rank promotion? This kid has been away from the army for a year, and Snake King hid this mission from me and sent him on it—and he succeeded!” Li Mingzheng slammed his fist onto the thick desk, sending the water glass beside it jumping off the surface, sloshing fragrant coffee everywhere.

For the past year, Li Mingzheng had been deeply unhappy, attempting several times to have Qin Fen killed, even hiring the Blood List's King of Snipers to assassinate him. Not only had he failed to kill him, but the young man was still roaming free today, and now he had added such immense merit to his name.

The Genesis Society? Chen Fang had known about the existence of the Genesis Society for more than just a day or two, but they had always struggled to locate their lair. To think that Qin Fen, returning suddenly from the Holy Martial Hall, would pull off such a significant feat right away.

“Stop Qin Fen from fully rejoining the military system?” Li Mingzheng’s sinister brow furrowed, a sharp gleam flashing within: “This time it will be difficult. Even if we catch him completing the mission, the leverage of him not immediately reporting back to duty will make it hard to prevent his return to the military structure. No! I must have revenge for my son! I must kill him before he is officially reinstated!” The glint gradually coalesced into a fierce glare. Terrifying grimaces contorted Li Mingzheng’s cheeks, and the knuckles of his clasped hands cracked audibly: “There is only one way! Using methods that cannot see the light of day is difficult for killing him. Even if I kill him, Snake King might react. I must kill him using the most legitimate method!…”

“Exactly!” Li Mingzheng’s smile was still laced with menace. There was one other way to kill Qin Fen: challenging him to a legitimate martial contest, killing him in the ring!

A martial bout to the death required a pretext, and Li Mingzheng found the perfect excuse and the perfect candidate.

Pei Chengjun, the Martial God of Hanzhou! The founder of the New Path Boxing style, dedicated to spreading his art throughout the Federation, hoping to reignite the worldwide craze that the original Boxing style enjoyed years ago.

Therefore, he had tirelessly honed his own practice over the years while simultaneously cultivating several outstanding disciples who could later promote the New Path Boxing style and who were potential successors to his legacy.

It could be said that the effort Pei Chengjun invested in these disciples was no less than the effort he poured into his own rigorous martial training.

Just as his disciples were on the verge of maturity, ready to allow the New Path Boxing style to branch out across the Federation, one devastating piece of news followed another.

First, the defeat of the Park brothers shattered the hope of the New Path Boxing style representing the East Asian Military Zone in the Rookie Competition, thus losing a vital chance for publicity.

Then, Li Mingzheng’s nephew was soundly defeated by Qin Fen, the martial champion of the Rookie Competition.

Less than half a year later, two more pieces of news arrived: Qin Fen, now in the Holy Martial Hall, mercilessly struck down New Path Boxing practitioners who dared oppose his martial ascent, brutally killing two of Pei Chengjun’s direct disciples in duels.

In just over a year, more than half of the heirs Pei Chengjun had painstakingly cultivated for the New Path Boxing style were defeated or killed by Qin Fen alone. Li Mingzheng had long heard of the Han Zhou Martial God’s fury; if Qin Fen had not been hiding in the Holy Martial Hall, Pei Chengjun would have already tracked him down to vent his rage.

Li Mingzheng had always assumed that Qin Fen, who was rumored to be making quite a splash in the Holy Martial Hall, would be heavily publicized by the military upon his return, creating an opportunity for Pei Chengjun to act.

Unexpectedly, Qin Fen left the Holy Martial Hall with such low profile and completed a massive meritorious service with lightning speed.

Li Mingzheng began to suspect that if this continued, Qin Fen might one day truly become a master of martial arts, his status in the military growing ever higher, making it even harder to kill him.

Li Mingzheng reached for the phone on his desk, pressing a familiar sequence of keys. Han Zhou Martial God maintained strong ties with the Hanzhou military; as one of the cornerstones of the Hanzhou military structure, how could Li Mingzheng not know him?

“Master Pei? Hello, this is Li Mingzheng. I apologize for the intrusion, but I have good news to share: Qin Fen is returning to Zhongzhou shortly.” BANG!

Li Mingzheng immediately extended the arm holding the phone away from his ear, yet he could still clearly hear the sounds of furious smashing emanating from the other end.

Judging by the sound, Li Mingzheng could estimate that Pei Chengjun had just struck a wall with his palm, and the wall assaulted by the enraged Martial God of Hanzhou had already been reduced to ruins.

Excellent! Li Mingzheng slowly brought the receiver back to his ear. Pei Chengjun’s reaction was precisely what he desired! The wrath of the Hanzhou Martial God signaled that Qin Fen’s days were truly numbered.

“Where is he?” The voice on the other end was so tightly controlled in its fury that the words were unnaturally cold. Even through the telephone line, the skin on Li Mingzheng’s scalp tightened; this level of anger from a Martial Arts Master was overwhelming even from a distance.

“Master Pei, if you are interested in meeting this young martial artist whose name you have heard so often, perhaps…” Li Mingzheng’s eyes crinkled into a smile like a blooming flower: “I will come pick you up immediately, and we can go see him together?” “Good! I’ll wait for you!” CRACK! Before Li Mingzheng heard the dial tone, he heard the sound of the phone being crushed. The fury of the Hanzhou Martial God made the device in his hand the first casualty.

“Someone! Prepare the fastest Vertical Take-Off and Landing aircraft for me.” Li Mingzheng straightened his crisp military uniform, his stride echoing his elation.

With the Hanzhou Martial God Pei Chengjun at his side, Li Mingzheng no longer needed to fear facing Qin Fen and being targeted by that vengeance-seeking young man. He was certain that this young man’s days were truly few; even if Qin Fen learned of all the schemes and malicious plots Li Mingzheng had orchestrated, he would have no chance to retaliate, because the Hanzhou Martial God would end his life.