Zhang Yang and Long Feng both turned around, and Long Cheng looked at them with surprise. Both of them gave Long Cheng a truly unusual feeling, as if they had been replaced by different people.

“Senior, you seem… different?” As the boatman steered them back, Long Cheng cautiously asked Long Feng, for he could now distinctly feel the change in him. Zhang Yang glanced at Long Feng, his eyes lighting up slightly.

“Long Feng, congratulations!” Zhang Yang said with a smile. Long Feng grinned broadly, his heart feeling as if it had been smeared with honey—or something even sweeter.

“Zhang Yang, I truly have you to thank. Without the Supreme True Canon, I wouldn’t be who I am now!” Long Feng chuckled, his eyes bright.

He knew exactly why he had attained all this. As the boat gradually pulled away from the Great Buddha, his state of mind slowly settled.

Enlightenment. He had truly achieved enlightenment.

It hadn't directly boosted his power, but it had elevated his spirit, his very being, to its apex. Presently, his cultivation realm had surpassed the third layer; all he lacked now was the strength of his inner energy.

Once his inner energy reached the standard for the third layer, he would naturally and smoothly enter that level, entirely bypassing the need for the Saintess Pill. For others, increasing inner energy was difficult, but for them, with their abundance of spiritual elixirs, it was merely a matter of time—and certainly not a great deal of time.

Long Feng himself possessed two Essence Blood Pills that Zhang Yang had given him previously. The third layer of inner energy was now a wide-open door for Long Feng.

The benefits of enlightenment extended beyond this. The circulation speed of the Supreme True Canon seemed to have quickened.

This moment of realization had also granted him a much deeper comprehension of the cultivation method he practiced. This new understanding made him fully grasp the profound depth of this mental technique, explaining why it was called a supreme-level cultivation method.

Before this, he had even presumed his understanding was deep, only now realizing that what he knew before was merely the surface, and even now, he was barely initiated. “Zhang Yang, you seem to have gained quite a bit as well?” Long Feng finally noticed Zhang Yang, asking with a hint of suspicion.

Zhang Yang’s expression also carried a subtle shift; Long Feng couldn't quite articulate it, but he felt it keenly. He had a sense that Zhang Yang, when facing the Great Buddha, had also gleaned a significant harvest, perhaps even equivalent to his own moment of enlightenment.

“Not bad. This trip wasn't in vain!” Zhang Yang smiled faintly, smoothly diverting the topic.

He hadn't experienced enlightenment, but Long Feng’s intuition wasn't wrong; his gains were indeed not inferior. Or perhaps, his gains were even superior to enlightenment.

He had grasped something entirely new, something he had never encountered or imagined before. The persistent question that had troubled his heart suddenly found its Answer the instant the boatman woke him.

The meaning of existence is simply to exist. “Right, not in vain, definitely not in vain!” Long Feng nodded with another laugh, wholeheartedly agreeing with Zhang Yang.

This journey had truly been worthwhile. He was immensely satisfied with his current state.

He was grateful they had chosen this journey of trials; now he understood why family elders would expel them into the secular world once they reached a certain level of cultivation. Just like his previous assignment to capture Zhang Yang—that, too, was a form of trial.

It was a pity that most people sent out for these trials failed to grasp the elders' sincere intentions, returning empty-handed. Such spiritual perception, such spiritual refinement, was fundamentally impossible to teach; the elders could only watch as they wasted opportunity after opportunity.

By the time they reached the shore, it was already afternoon. Setting off again today was out of the question.

Given Long Feng’s current condition, he had no desire to depart immediately. They found a hotel in Lezhou.

After settling in, Long Feng insisted they go out for the best local cuisine. Long Feng seemed to change daily these past few days.

If this continued, Zhang Yang believed he could easily socialize with Su Zhantao and Li Ya; they were all young men, sharing common ground. “Zhang Yang, Senior seems much more lively now!” As they walked, while Long Cheng was briefly distracted asking a vendor about small items, Long Cheng confided in Zhang Yang with a slight worry.

To him, the current Long Feng was unsettling; he no longer felt like a true senior. “Isn’t being lively a good thing?

Do you prefer him to always have a stone face?” Zhang Yang chuckled. Long Cheng’s cultivation was too shallow for him to comprehend the significance of Long Feng’s transformation, but Zhang Yang understood perfectly—this change in Long Feng was beneficial, without any downside.

“No, I don't mind, but it just feels… strange!” Long Cheng scratched his head, speaking with confusion. Though he was over ten years older than Zhang Yang, he felt like a junior in Zhang Yang’s presence.

Looking up, Long Cheng gazed at Zhang Yang again, his eyes holding a shade of doubt. “Speaking of which, Zhang Yang, you’ve changed too.

I feel you’re becoming more ordinary. Even though I know perfectly well you’re a master, my heart insists on seeing you as just a regular person.

That feeling is odd!” What Long Cheng said now was truly what he felt. The former Zhang Yang, while never disrespectful to them, occasionally carried an inherent aura of mastery.

For instance, the sternness that sometimes flashed in his eyes made even Long Cheng hesitant to meet his gaze. Now it was different.

Especially after returning from the Great Buddha, Long Cheng constantly felt Zhang Yang was just a common man, no different from Li Ya or Su Zhantao. “Is that so?

Then just treat me as an ordinary person!” Zhang Yang offered a light, radiant smile. Long Cheng looked at the smile and became even more bewildered, eventually shaking his head.

He decided not to dwell on things he couldn't figure out. Both Zhang Yang and Long Feng were far superior to him—they were both masters, and the ways of masters were inherently different.

Le Mountain offered many culinary delights, and Long Feng ultimately chose a restaurant specializing in local dishes. This was a place favored by many tourists, and the locals claimed the food there was genuinely excellent, albeit quite pricey.

Price was no object now; Long Feng certainly didn't care about money at this moment. One thing hadn't changed: he still lacked a concrete concept of personal wealth.

Whenever he needed money, Long Cheng would provide it, as would Zhang Yang. An hour later, the three, well-fed and satisfied, emerged from the restaurant.

The manager himself escorted them out and helped them hail a car. The manager’s face was etched with shock.

The three of them had consumed seven catties of the specialty sorghum liquor—a spirit nearing sixty percent proof, brewed from pure grain, with a fierce kick. It was remarkable for an ordinary person to handle one catty; these three had averaged over two catties each.

After drinking so much, it was no wonder the manager came out, worrying about them. Seven catties of high-proof liquor shared by three people, consumed without restraint—yes, the three felt slightly woozy, but none were truly drunk.

Especially Long Feng and Zhang Yang; with their profound inner energy, getting them drunk was genuinely difficult. Long Cheng fared worse.

Although he drank slightly less, the liquor’s after-effect was intense. He collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep immediately upon returning to the hotel, remembering nothing afterward.

“That damn kid, enjoying himself so much, while I have to freeze out here!” Outside the hotel, an old man glared hatefully at their retreating figures before turning away. “Sir, it’s cold out here.

Why are you alone? Have you lost your way home?

Shall I call the police for you?” Just as he turned, a young man approached, asking with concern. As the young man spoke, he pulled out a mobile phone.

A Volkswagen sedan was parked nearby with its door open; it seemed he had noticed the old man alone and deliberately stepped out of his car to inquire. “Young man, thank you.

My home is just ahead; I remember the way!” The old man narrowed his eyes and chuckled, appearing as a kindly elder. “Is that so?

Well, perhaps I can drive you home?” The young man nodded, seemingly relieved, and added softly, “No need, thank you, young man. You are kind-hearted, and kindness is always rewarded!” The old man smiled and shook his head, starting to walk forward.

He stopped abruptly after taking a single step and tapped the young man’s neck. “This is your car, isn't it?

You can’t park here; you’ll get a ticket if the police come. Hurry up and leave!” As the old man spoke, he gestured toward the Volkswagen.

The young man immediately nodded: “Sir, I’m leaving now. This isn't my car; it belongs to my supervisor.

I’m just a driver; how could I own a car like this!” The young man seemed slightly shy, then got into the car and drove away. The old man watched the vehicle depart, a look of triumph suddenly crossing his face.

His right index finger, which had tapped the young man’s neck, had flashed, and three glittering silver needles vanished as the old man retracted his arm. He slowly walked forward, humming a tune of indeterminate age.

This minor incident was quickly forgotten by the good-natured young driver. However, over the next few days, he began experiencing a very strange sensation.

He had a professional ailment, a result of years spent driving: cervical spondylosis. Lately, his neck pain had significantly eased; he hadn't needed his medication and hadn't suffered headaches or dizziness, which greatly surprised him.

He even went to the hospital for a check-up and discovered his cervical condition had markedly improved. He had no idea why or how it had eased, and he happily told his family that heaven knew he worked hard and had alleviated his suffering.

He promptly forgot about the matter. Of course, he never knew that immediately following his kind gesture, he had been pricked by needles, without feeling a thing at the time.

These are matters for later. After staying one day in Lezhou, Zhang Yang and the others departed.

Their next destination was Mount Emei. Mount Emei was very close to Lezhou, one of China’s rare famous mountains and rivers, steeped in countless legends.

In truth, Mount Emei once housed a major internal energy sect. A thousand years ago, Emei was renowned, holding a distinguished name among internal energy cultivators.

Alas, the greater the fame, the shorter the period of glory. Many people knew of this place, and as they grew powerful, they simultaneously sowed the seeds of their own ruin.

Eventually, the prestigious Emei sect dissolved into the tides of history. Similar to Emei, several other sects had already vanished long ago.

Except for the few sects that managed to swiftly withdraw from the public eye and downplay their existence, most had disappeared.