Meiduo grabbed Qiangbagela’s arm and hurried after him. “I just saw him pass by there.”

The two followed in hushed tones. After rounding just a few corners, they heard the faint sound of trickling water. Peeking out their heads, they squinted in the moonlight, and Meiduo’s face immediately flushed crimson.

Li Yundong was there, having stripped off his clothes and was washing himself under the faucet.

Though it was deep night, the moonlight was bright, allowing Meiduo a clear view of Li Yundong’s completely naked form, and even more clearly, the muscles on his body, which were like steel rods.

After a month of rigorous training, almost all the fat on Li Yundong’s body had been burned away, leaving only powerfully developed musculature. The veins beneath his skin had grown thick and prominent; with the slightest movement, his muscles would ripple and roll.

In the darkness, Li Yundong stood with his back to Meiduo. His back was broad and wide. Water droplets rolled down his skin, refracting the cold moonlight, making his physique seem even more like forged steel—hard, potent, and radiating a profound sense of security and strength.

Though Qiangbagela was an old man of vast experience, seeing Li Yundong suddenly standing there like an iron tower, half his body shrouded in shadow and half bathed in moonlight—mysterious and majestic—he couldn't help but marvel inwardly: This looks like a youth, yet how can he be so formidable? Could he not be a Living Buddha, but rather Mahakala himself?

Mahakala is the ultimate Vajra protector in Tibetan Buddhism, possessing three heads and six arms, incomparably fierce.

For a moment, both of them stood transfixed, holding their breath, making no sound, simply staring as Li Yundong washed himself under the running water before dressing again.

Once Li Yundong was clothed, he instantly reverted to the appearance of a rather disheveled beggar. This stark contrast left Qiangbagela and Meiduo momentarily unable to process what they had seen.

This was Li Yundong’s first bath in nearly ten days. After washing, he felt utterly refreshed. He stood still, silently circulating the qi within his body, feeling the condensed and robust true energy surge and flow through his meridians.

After a moment, Li Yundong sat cross-legged on the spot and began to enter meditation to cultivate his energy.

Meiduo, standing nearby, suddenly blinked. She tugged at Qiangbagela’s hand, about to speak, but saw Qiangbagela pull her aside, some distance away, before he spoke in a low voice: “I told you he was a Living Buddha, now do you believe it?”

The posture for Daoist meditation is very similar to that of Buddhist meditation, especially when viewed from the back; the difference is nearly imperceptible. Meiduo whispered back in astonishment, “I didn’t realize he was also a **. But why isn’t he making the pilgrimage?”

Qiangbagela chuckled. “We follow Tibetan Buddhism; perhaps he follows Central Plains Buddhism. They are different.”

Meiduo asked, “Then he is a follower of Central Plains Buddhism?”

Qiangbagela considered this. “It’s possible.”

Meiduo inquired, “Then what is he doing here? Judging by his appearance, he seems to have walked, his feet have very thick calluses.”

Qiangbagela smiled. “Meiduo, you observe things very closely.”

Meiduo recalled Li Yundong’s robust physique, one that many young Tibetan men lacked, and felt a flush rise to her cheeks. She looked away, changing the subject: “Qiangbagela, what do you think he’s here for?”

Qiangbagela said, “Many Buddhist practitioners in the Central Plains also revere asceticism, just like us. That’s why there are mendicant monks. I surmise this man is one such ascetic.”

But then Meiduo countered, “Yet he hasn't shaved his head!” Qiangbagela couldn't help but frown. “Perhaps he practices with his hair intact? But even those who practice with their hair uncut—I’ve never heard of them being ascetics…”

As they spoke, they suddenly heard a faint sound of air being split. The girl and the old man exchanged a look, instinctively slowing their steps to see clearly what was happening.

Upon looking, both froze. They saw a thin wisp of white mist rising from the crown of Li Yundong’s head, visible even in the dark night. His chest rose and fell; when he inhaled, Meiduo and Qiangbagela felt as if all the surrounding air was being sucked in by the youth.

Meiduo, quick-eyed, nudged Qiangbagela with her elbow and pointed to the ground. Qiangbagela looked down and his eyeballs nearly popped out of his sockets from shock.

When Li Yundong inhaled, the sand and dust on the ground rolled toward him, as if he were an immeasurably vast black hole.

But when Li Yundong exhaled, a straight, thin white line shot from his mouth, extending over ten meters, striking the red-walled, black-tiled monastery wall before dissipating.

While they were reeling from Li Yundong’s strange phenomenon, the qi inside him suddenly began to churn violently, like thunder roaring across the sky, sending countless bolts of lightning hammering down toward the lower dantian in his abdomen.

Li Yundong knew this was the onset of the Foundation Establishment stage, but the environment was entirely wrong; he dared not proceed with the establishment now. He snapped his eyes open, instantly diverting the surging internal energy to his arm. Then, his body leaped up suddenly, he expelled his breath with a shout, and punched out toward a hard boulder three meters away.

With a dull thud, Meiduo and Qiangbagela felt the ground beneath their feet tremble slightly, as if an unseen giant had just stomped the earth.

The two dared not even gasp, watching silently as Li Yundong slowly retracted his energy. He then strapped the tightly bound Seven Treasures Spirit Fan back onto his body and left the temple, continuing his climb toward the mountaintop.

Only after Li Yundong had gone far did Meiduo and Qiangbagela dare to emerge. They simultaneously approached the massive boulder that Li Yundong had struck from three meters away.

This rock was originally a treasure of the Katuo Monastery, inscribed with golden Sanskrit characters, serving to guard the temple. Li Yundong, unleashing his power in the dark, hadn't noticed what it was. With one punch, he had left a clear fist print right in the center of this treasured stone.

Meiduo and Qiangbagela leaned in for a closer look. They saw a distinct fist print embedded in the stone. In the bright moonlight, they could even discern the clear texture of skin lines within the impression. Around this print, the stone surface was impossibly smooth, as if someone had deliberately filed it down!

Meiduo and Qiangbagela looked at each other, both shaken to their core. Meiduo stammered, “Gods! This Han brother is too powerful!” Qiangbagela murmured excitedly, “Mahakala, this must be the reincarnation of Mahakala!”

As the two stood in shock and excitement, a cold, faint cough sounded from directly behind them.

Meiduo jumped, whirling around with a sharp cry, only to find a young man standing before her. Though his hair had been washed, it still fell in disarray over his shoulders, and a thick beard nearly concealed his features. It was Li Yundong, who had returned.

Li Yundong eyed Meiduo and Qiangbagela warily, his voice deep. “What are you two doing following me?”

Qiangbagela turned, his excitement overriding caution, and immediately knelt with a thud, prostrating himself completely—his palms facing the sky, the backs of his hands touching the earth—and declared with utmost reverence, “Mahakala, thank you for saving my life!”

Li Yundong’s vigilance slightly lessened. He inclined his head slightly, making a gesture as if to help him up. “No need for thanks, it was merely a small effort.”

Qiangbagela rose from the ground and shot a glare at Meiduo, who was staring curiously at Li Yundong. He whispered sternly, “What are you spacing out for?”

In Meiduo’s eyes, the young man wasn't exceptionally tall, but his shoulders conveyed a sense of sturdy power. Although his hair was messy and his beard made him look forty or fifty, his eyes were as bright as stars. Yet, his voice sounded as if he were not much older than she was.

‘How old is this Han brother really? He doesn’t look much older than me, but why is he so formidable? Could he truly be the reincarnation of Mahakala, as Qiangbagela claims?’ Meiduo pondered internally. Hearing Qiangbagela’s sharp reprimand, she snapped back to attention. Her ears burning slightly, she spoke to Li Yundong in somewhat broken Mandarin, “I am truly sorry for today. You saved Qiangbagela’s life, and I offended you. If you wish to scold me or strike me, I have no complaints whatsoever.”

Meiduo was already a strikingly beautiful woman, known within her tribe as the Flower of Xirigon; even her name, Meiduo, meant 'beautiful flower' in Tibetan.

Viewing a beauty under the moonlight only enhanced her charm and allure. Even an iron man might soften after Meiduo’s sincere apology, let alone Li Yundong, who was naturally inclined to cherish the fairer sex.

Li Yundong looked at the Tibetan girl. Although her attire carried a strong exotic flair, her innocent and guileless eyes reminded him so much of Su Chan. Driven by affection for the one, he felt a degree of goodwill toward the other. Otherwise, he wouldn't have intervened to help her and the elder on the road.

Li Yundong nodded to Meiduo, a gentle smile touching his lips. “No need to be so formal.”

Seeing Li Yundong smile slightly, and noticing the exceptionally soft gaze he directed toward her, Meiduo, though young, was well aware of matters between men and women. Coupled with the bold, passionate, open, and lively nature of a Tibetan girl, she instinctively interpreted his gaze as one of romantic interest. Her heart fluttered wildly, and her earlobes burned crimson.

Qiangbagela, being an old man who had lived through seven or eight decades, understood the situation clearly. He laughed heartily, his face alight with benevolent kindness. He also spoke in Chinese, “May I ask the benefactor’s esteemed name?”

Li Yundong chuckled. “Benefactor is too much. Please just call me Li Yundong, Elder.”

Qiangbagela smiled, stroking the three-inch long white beard on his chest. “So, you are Young Brother Li. What brings you here? Are you traveling or seeking cultivation?”

Li Yundong paused. He had assumed that after witnessing his qi cultivation, Qiangbagela would have recognized him as a practitioner. After a moment’s thought, he decided to be forthright. “I am here for cultivation.”

Qiangbagela’s smile grew wider and brighter. “That is excellent! We are also heading to Mount Meli for pilgrimage. If you don’t mind, why don’t we travel together?”

Li Yundong considered their practice of stopping every few steps to kowtow and couldn't help but offer a wry smile, leaning toward refusal. He said, “I may need to hurry, and you all…”

Qiangbagela seemed to read his mind. He waved his hand and chuckled, “We don’t perform the three-step kowtow the entire journey. We only begin that sacred procession once we reach the foot of the holy mountain. Otherwise, covering several hundred kilometers this way, we’d probably die of prostration halfway!”

Seeing the old man speak so candidly, Li Yundong couldn't help but laugh. Sensing his wavering resolve, Qiangbagela turned to Meiduo and said, “Isn't that right, Meiduo?”

Meiduo, having been held captive by Li Yundong’s gaze earlier, had avoided looking directly at him. Hearing Qiangbagela, she suddenly grew bold and passionate, lifting her head. Her stunningly beautiful eyes fixed intently on Li Yundong. She let out a cheerful laugh, truly radiant with bright eyes and white teeth. “Qiangbagela is right. Esteemed Han brother, if you don’t find us burdensome, travel with us. We can look out for one another on the road, and besides, the plateau is vast; there are many plateau wolves! Of course, even if you aren't afraid of wolves, what if you get lost?”

The more Li Yundong looked at Meiduo, the more he saw similarities to Su Chan in some ways, and his heart stirred. As if compelled by some divine influence, he nodded. “Alright then!”