Chinese Superman

Chapter 189 Pilgrimage, but the Saint Worships Me! (7K Long Chapter)

Qiao Chunxia stepped off the stage, leaving the examinee holding the sword standing there, lost in thought, before letting his hand fall limply to the ground, the sword clattering to the floor.

Although he gained some points through psychological warfare, his scores in other areas were too low, resulting in a final score of only 49 points.

Unfortunately, if she had fought against an evenly matched candidate, her score would not have been so low. However, Qiao Chunxia's fighting style was so clean and efficient that the candidate wielding the sword had no room to maneuver and was instantly defeated, causing her score to plummet.

"Lone Wolf".

Someone whispered.

"Is that the madwoman they were talking about on the Ancheng adventurers' forum?"

"I never team up for dungeons; I hunt mid-tier species all by myself."

"It's unbelievable that he's a high school student. I can't believe it."

Qiao Chunxia paid no attention to the sounds around her.

She weaved through the crowd and headed towards the stadium exit.

Just then, someone called her from behind.

"Qiao Chunxia".

She stopped and turned around.

A boy wearing a No. 1 Middle School uniform stood on the ring.

With sword-like eyebrows, thin lips, broad shoulders, and long legs, he stood like a straight pine tree. In high school, when boys were generally "careless" and didn't dress up, he was the kind of person who stood out.

The name that ranked first in the real-time rankings at Ancheng Gymnasium examination area was displayed on the electronic screen for most of the day.

Li Mingxuan.

"I saw your performance in practice," he said calmly, without flattery or provocation. "96 points, higher than mine."

Qiao Chunxia did not respond.

"I was hoping to play a match against you or Zhao Yan today." Li Mingxuan paused, then shrugged with a hint of regret. "Unfortunately, I wasn't scheduled to play against you."

The setting sun shone down from above the open-air stadium, casting his silhouette as a line.

"Tomorrow." He looked at Qiao Chunxia, ​​his gaze carrying the sharpness and vigor of a young swordsman. "Mount Wushen!"

"Heroes from all over the world are as numerous as carp crossing a river, and the college entrance examination is even more so. Three million martial arts candidates gather together. Who is the true genius and who is just a supporting role? Just thinking about it makes one's blood boil with excitement."

"Qiao Chunxia! I look forward to meeting you at Mount Wushen!"

Qiao Chunxia remained silent for a moment, offered no reply, and then turned and left.

"The vibe of youth," Xia Xinghan remarked, then changed the subject, asking curiously, "Why are you ignoring him completely? Guys like that should be really popular with girls."

Qiao Chunxia shook her head slightly, thinking to herself, "I don't feel anything. I don't think girls would like this type."

At that moment, a cunning thought flashed through her mind, and she couldn't help but pry into Xia Xinghan's secret: "I'm more curious about what the old man with the ring looks like. His voice is so youthful—he must look very young too."

"If there's a chance, I might see him."

"Do you need me to reshape the physical body of the old man with the ring?"

'

"My physical body is still here; this is just a wisp of my consciousness."

"7

"oh."

"Why do you sound so disappointed?"

"No, it's just that I feel like the old man with the ring is about to leave me. A wisp of consciousness—like the string of a kite—blown away in the wind, and the old man with the ring flew far away, and the connection was broken."

Xia Xinghan did not answer, because Qiao Chunxia was right.

6 month 12 day.

Lin Xiuyun woke up at six o'clock in the morning.

She didn't call her daughter.

She tiptoed out of bed, took the chicken soup that had been simmering on the stove last night, skimmed off the surface oil, and poured it into a blue-and-white porcelain bowl. She then took out some bok choy from the refrigerator and slowly washed it at the sink.

The water flowed gently, making a gurgling sound.

The sky outside the window was gradually brightening, but the cicadas had not yet begun to sing.

7:30.

Having rested and recharged, Qiao Chunxia pushed open the door.

Lin Xiuyun brought the chicken soup to the table, along with a bowl of white rice and a plate of stir-fried vegetables.

"Mom, chicken soup so early in the morning? I could smell the aroma of chicken soup in my dream." Qiao Chunxia sat down and picked up her chopsticks.

-

"Eat up," Lin Xiuyun said, tearing off a chicken leg and placing it in Qiao Chunxia's bowl. "The exam is six hours long, don't go hungry."

The cicadas outside the window suddenly chirped once, then stopped, perhaps because they had been exhausted from a long night.

Qiao Chunxia finished the last grain of rice in her bowl, put down her chopsticks, and rubbed her stomach: "I'm full."

"Mom." Qiao Chunxia stood up.

Lin Xiuyun also stood up.

She reached out and straightened her daughter's collar, which was actually quite neat. She straightened it again before putting her hand down.

"Your exam admission ticket is on your desk. It's the last day, so do your best on the exam."

"Don't worry, I'm confident!"

Qiao Chunxia smiled and nodded, then turned and walked into the bedroom, picked up her exam admission ticket, and lay down on the bed.

The admission ticket is issued uniformly by the state and produced by the Temple of Martial God. It is a palm-sized card with the candidate's photo and examination number printed on the front and a light gold rune engraved on the back, which contains the mystery of Wushan Mountain and can help people enter dreams and be pulled into Wushan Mountain.

"Mount Wushen, here I come!" Qiao Chunxia took a deep breath, stuck her admission ticket to her forehead, and then closed her eyes.

No one knows what the beginning of the dream was, when Qiao Chunxia opened her eyes again.

She was stunned.

mountain.

A mountain.

A mountain that stretches across the sky and earth, almost filling the entire field of vision.

It didn't spring up out of thin air.

It is the earth!

It is the sky!

It is this space itself!

The mountain is a deep blue-black color, not the blue-black of stone, but bronze, bronze that has been eroded by wind and rain and rubbed by time for hundreds of millions of years, and finally solidified into this somber and almost sacred texture.

The Bronze Mountain has no vegetation or rocks, only countless carvings.

Those are footprints, fist marks, countless imprints of martial arts, traces of tens of millions of martial arts candidates who have come here to test themselves and make pilgrimages since the establishment of the martial arts college entrance examination.

Every engraving faintly glows, a testament to the indomitable will of the martial artist.

Thousands upon thousands of faint lights.

They meander upwards along the mountainside, like blood vessels, like rivers, like star trails, upwards, upwards, and upwards again, stretching to the ends of the earth, with no end in sight.

Qiao Chunxia tilted her head back.

My neck ached from looking up, but I still couldn't see the mountaintop.

It is said that a saint sits cross-legged on the mountaintop.

The Lord of the Martial God Hall, the only Martial Saint of our time!

She looked away.

Then she saw people.

people.

Crowds of people.

She has been able to write these four characters since she was a child.

But only today, at this moment, standing at the foot of Mount Wushen, does she truly understand what those four words mean.

A dense mass of heads stretched out to both sides.

She gazed into the distance, but could not see the edge to the left, the edge to the right, the edge in front, or the edge behind.

Some people were wearing the same No. 2 Middle School uniform as her, some were wearing martial arts uniforms that had never been seen in the province, some spoke with a northern accent, some spoke with a southern dialect, some were silently adjusting their breathing, some were talking in hushed tones, and some were looking up at the mountain peak, motionless.

The sounds of conversation rose and fell, rolling across the foot of Wushen Mountain like a tsunami.

But at this moment, everyone's eyes are fixed on the same mountain.

Wushen Mountain.

Qiao Chunxia suddenly remembered what Li Mingxuan had said yesterday.

—Heroes of the world are as numerous as carp crossing a river.

She didn't feel anything when she heard it.

But now, standing at the foot of Mount Wushen, looking at this vast sea of ​​people, she truly understands the weight of those nine words.

Three million martial arts examination candidates.

Three million!

All the martial arts exam candidates from across the country have gathered here!

Three million peers, three million martial artists who have been training day in and day out for three years, and three million teenagers who share the same dream.

Who is she?

Qiao Chunxia.

Ancheng No. 2 Middle School, Class 6 of Senior Three, at the Innate Realm, with a spiritual power value of 921, ranked first in Ancheng Martial Arts College Entrance Examination yesterday, surpassing Li Mingxuan with his outstanding combat performance.

But what does being the best in Ancheng mean here?

She cast her gaze upon the sea of ​​people. A single glance was enough to survey thousands of faces.

Among these thousands of people, how many are the top scorers in Ancheng? How many are "city champions"? How many are "provincial champions"?

she does not know.

All she knew was that standing in this sea of ​​people, she was like a grain of sand falling into the desert, like a drop of water falling into the ocean.

Yesterday's pride feels as light as a breath here.

She even felt a little ridiculous.

"Insignificant?"

Xia Xinghan's voice suddenly rang out.

Qiao Chunxia was taken aback.

Then I was startled.

"Grandpa?!" she exclaimed inwardly, her voice trembling. "What are you doing here?!"

This is Wushen Mountain.

On the third day of the Wuhan University entrance examination, the examination venue was completely closed to the public.

Only examinees, examiners, and the Martial Saint are allowed to enter!

"Could it be—grandpa, your true identity is a Martial Saint?!"

"That's right! Rumor has it that the Martial Saint is also very young. He is the fifth disciple of the Martial Ancestor, so naturally he has a good relationship with the Martial Ancestor. Moreover, your martial arts attainments are extremely high. Grandpa Ring, you—you are actually the Martial Saint!" Qiao Chunxia said excitedly.

"Don't make wild guesses, I'm not a martial saint," Xia Xinghan denied.

"Huh? Not the Martial Saint?"

Qiao Chunxia was stunned and opened her mouth.

She had many questions to ask.

I want to ask who you are, what your relationship is with the Martial Ancestor, why you chose me, and why you were willing to patiently guide a complete stranger, a high school student, for these hundred days.

But she didn't ask anything.

Because at that moment, the foot of the mountain suddenly became quiet.

That silence didn't come all at once.

It's like a tide, surging down from the mountaintop, layer upon layer; it's like ripples, spreading from the front row to the edge of the crowd, circle upon circle.

The bustling crowd turned into a place where you could hear a pin drop.

Three million test takers.

Three million beating hearts.

Three million people held their breath.

At the foot of Mount Wushen, all was quiet.

In the sky, ten golden rays shone simultaneously, like ten suns leaping out from behind the clouds, illuminating the entire Martial God Mountain in every detail.

Ten examiners suddenly appeared.

They were dressed in the dark blue robes of the Martial God Temple, descending slowly from the clouds, each step seemingly treading on empty air, each step as if walking on flat ground.

The man in the lead had white hair and beard, a bronze face, and flashes of lightning in his eyes as they opened and closed.

He walked into the air and stopped. The nine people behind him stopped at the same time, and then the old man spoke.

The sound wasn't loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears. Three million people, three million ears, heard the same sentence, the same word, the same tone.

Ten years ago —

The old man's voice was deep, resonant, and clear, like the tolling of an ancient bell in the deep mountains: "The Martial Ancestor spread his teachings throughout the world in Zhongnan Mountain and established the Temple of the Martial God."

He said, "The beginning of martial arts lies in strengthening the body."

"The ultimate goal of martial arts lies in understanding the mind."

"

"Power is neither good nor evil; it is only the user who uses it who has the intention."

""

"When you practice martial arts, I hope you will not forget to cultivate your character and temperament. Do not bully the weak, but use martial arts to protect yourself and help others."

The entire mountain was silent.

Among the three million test takers, no one dared to whisper; their hearts were filled with solemnity.

The old man's gaze descended from the clouds, sweeping across the vast sea of ​​people, looking very slowly, as if he wanted to examine each of the three million people one by one.

Then he said, "Mount Martial God was not established to select talents, nor was it set up to test martial prowess. This mountain is a path left by the Martial Ancestor for all the poor martial artists in the world."

The powerful and resonant voice echoed between heaven and earth, like spring thunder rolling across a valley.

"This mountain only asks three questions—"

'

"will."

Character.

"will."

He paused after each word he spoke, and with each pause, his voice seemed to sink deeper into one's heart.

"Only those with great perseverance can reach the summit."

"Those who cannot distinguish between good and evil cannot reach the summit."

Those who bully the weak will never reach the top.

Those with impure intentions cannot reach the top.

The old man paused.

He didn't speak loudly when he said the last four words.

He simply said, "The one who reached the summit—"

"It's clear that the Martial Saint is here!!"

The last word fell.

The entire Wushen Mountain trembled slightly.

On the bronze-blue, almost black mountain, thousands of engravings suddenly lit up. The entire mountain, like a giant furnace, forged the immortal will of nearly a hundred million martial artists, turning sparks into a prairie fire.

The river of light flows upstream from the foot of the mountain, becoming wider, brighter, and more turbulent as it goes higher.

By the time we reached the halfway point, the mountain had become a vast and majestic sight. When we reached the depths of the clouds and mist, the river was no longer visible; only patches of light could be seen, engulfing, lifting, and sending the mountain into the sky.

Three million eyes followed that light upwards, seemingly able to see a majestic figure.

No one speaks.

No one moved.

Three million hearts beat to their own rhythms amidst the same overwhelming sensation.

Qiao Chunxia tilted her head back.

My neck doesn't hurt anymore.

She forgot about the sourness.

She simply stared at the endless beam of light, and a thought suddenly occurred to her:

So this is Wushen Mountain.

The time for climbing the mountain has come.

The old man's voice rang out again.

"Three million test takers, six-day deadline."

"Six hours in reality, six days in a dream."

He raised his hand and gently pointed towards the foot of the mountain.

"Go, climb the mountain!"

The two words were like a floodgate, suddenly pulled open.

Three million test takers were mobilized simultaneously.

That's not the tide; the tide comes in waves.

That was a landslide, an avalanche, everything that had been accumulating for three years bursting forth at once.

Qiao Chunxia was swept forward by the crowd. She didn't even take a step. It was the people behind her who pushed her, the people on her left and right who squeezed her, and the torrent of three million people that swept her into the foot of the mountain.

She heard someone shouting.

I couldn't hear what they were shouting; it was too noisy, the voices sounded like a tsunami.

But the moment she stepped into Mount Wushen, the roaring crowds suddenly vanished, and the surging tide of people disappeared as well. The magnificent Mount Wushen suddenly seemed to be left with only her.

Where are they?

"Grandpa, are you still there?"

Qiao Chunxia looked around, but there was no one and no sound.

Xia Xinghan did not reply to her, but just watched quietly. This was the first time in ten years that he had seen the Martial God Mountain and the high martial arts era he had created from the perspective of a high school student.

"Martial arts is a path for one person; how far you can go depends on how firm your heart is."

The test has begun.

The path is right in front of you, right under your feet. Go and climb it, and see the view from the pinnacle of martial arts!

Qiao Chunxia started climbing the mountain. The mountain sloped upwards at a gentle 35 degrees. The slope was covered with a dark blue-black bronze texture. It was not slippery or uncomfortable to walk on, so it was quite easy to climb.

But Qiao Chunxia had only run less than a hundred steps when she sensed something was wrong.

My body has become heavier.

Every bone, every muscle, every drop of blood is slowly, evenly, and irresistibly becoming heavier.

"This is gravity."

"Has it already exceeded Earth's standard gravity after only one hundred steps?"

She recalled the materials she had studied before the exam.

Mount Wushen, the first test—perseverance.

In conditions of higher gravity, climbing a mountain alone, with no one to accompany you or encourage you.

Qiao Chunxia took a deep breath and continued upwards.

One hundred steps, double.

Two hundred steps, twice as many.

Four hundred steps, four times.

After 1,500 steps, she began to pant because her lungs felt heavier, and each inhale required twice the effort to draw air in.

She looked around again.

There was no one around.

The entire Martial God Mountain was deserted, and Qiao Chunxia couldn't see what was happening to others. Perhaps some people were standing still, holding their knees and panting heavily; some were squatting down, seemingly wanting to rest; some were sitting directly on the ground, looking up at the endless mountainside with blank expressions in their eyes; and some might have even given up.

-

But she had no way of knowing any of it.

They didn't even know where the examiners were.

"This is the test of Mount Wushen. No wonder the opening chapters are so difficult." Qiao Chunxia sighed, and continued upwards without stopping.

Four thousand steps, forty times the force of gravity!

Her knees began to tremble.

Twenty times her body weight meant she had to bear a two-ton load, and every bone and every joint was groaning in pain as she reached her limit.

She stopped and took three breaths.

Then continue.

Six thousand three hundred steps. Sixty-three times the force of gravity!

Qiao Chunxia knelt down on one knee. The moment her knee touched the mountain, the weight of sixty-three times her weight seemed to find an outlet, crashing down from her spine, lumbar vertebrae, and knees into the mountain.

She was panting heavily.

The moment sweat seeped from his forehead, he fell heavily onto the mountainside.

She suddenly remembered her father.

Did Father climb this mountain a few years ago?

Where did he climb to? Did he kneel on one knee on the mountainside like I do, panting heavily, sweat dripping down his face?

Does he still want to continue climbing?

No, that's not right. When my father was in high school, the Earth was in a peaceful era. It hadn't yet entered the era of advanced martial arts, and there was no martial arts college entrance exam.

Qiao Chunxia stopped thinking; gravity seemed to have dulled her mind.

She struggled to her feet and continued upwards.

Step by step.

I don't know how many steps I took, or how much time passed.

Suddenly, her feet touched flat ground.

Halfway up the mountain.

Qiao Chunxia raised her head.

She made it across ten thousand steps and with a hundred times the force of gravity.

The hillside is a wide, gently sloping platform where people can be seen, with a few examinees sitting sparsely.

Some people were regulating their breathing, some were looking down the mountain, and some were lying on their backs, motionless, with only the rise and fall of their chests proving that they were still alive.

Countless more people—did not come up.

Qiao Chunxia turned around.

Figures appeared on the mountainside, which had been deserted before.

To be precise, it's a sea of ​​people, like a colony of ants migrating and slowly climbing upwards. You can even clearly see some people who can't withstand the test of climbing and choose to call for help from the examiner. Then, the examiner, who has been out of sight, will wave his hand, sending down a beam of light that makes them leave [Mount Wushen], and then they will wake up.

Those who have successfully reached the halfway point of the mountain seem to have a different mindset and see a completely different view.

She looked away.

Qiao Chunxia knew she couldn't stay still for too long. Even though watching a group of "ants" struggling on the path she had walked would feel great to her as a successful person, she didn't give them a second glance.

The second challenge comes after the mountainside.

There was no announcement from the examiner, no prompting sound, but everyone who came here could feel it.

That's a change.

The mountain is still the same mountain.

The weight remained at 100 times the original value. The good news is that it didn't increase, and the bad news is that it didn't decrease either. In addition, there were other things added.

sound.

At first, it was a faint buzzing sound, like someone talking from a very, very far place.

As it drew closer, closer still, Qiao Chunxia finally heard it clearly.

That was her own voice.

"I can't."

At six years old, I started practicing basic skills.

After seven minutes of holding the horse stance, her legs started to shake, and she cried, "I can't do it."

"I don't want to train anymore."

When she was seven, her father taught her body techniques for the first time, walking on plum blossom stakes. She fell seven or eight times, her knees were covered in bruises, and she sat on the ground and said, "I don't want to practice anymore."

"I really can't do it."

At fourteen, three months after her father's death, she stood on the playground of Ancheng No. 2 Middle School, facing the wooden stakes used for practicing boxing, for a very long time.

She did not throw a punch.

She said, "I really can't do it."

The sounds came from all directions, like a tide, like countless tiny tentacles, drilling into her body through her ears, eyes, and pores.

That wasn't a hallucination.

Those were her own words.

Every word, every sentence, was spoken by her own mouth.

She couldn't refute it.

Because it's true.

Qiao Chunxia stood still, without moving.

The sounds continued.

"You can't do it."

"You can't do it."

"You have absolutely no talent."

"You're just wasting your time."

"Your father is dead, what are you still practicing for?"

"You're a piece of trash."

That last sentence wasn't said by her.

That's what a classmate said.

In her first year of high school, she was eliminated in the first round of the school's martial arts tournament.

As I was leaving the stage, I overheard someone in the crowd saying, "Her father is dead, and her mother is in a vegetative state. What's the point of her training? She's just a good-for-nothing; she has no hope for the rest of her life."

She got into a fight with that person, a fight even fiercer than a boxing match, but when the school decided on the punishment the next day, the other person's parents came, but hers did not.

That night, she didn't eat, and she put on a mask, silently telling herself that it's better to avoid trouble and to be patient in everything.

The sounds grew louder and louder.

Qiao Chunxia's fingernails dug into her palm.

She knew this was a test, she knew this was a dream, the mystery of Mount Wushen, that it was making her dig out her long-buried memories, bringing out the fragments she least wanted to face, and laying them out in front of her.

But what's the use of knowing that?

She did say those things.

She did experience those things.

The girl who walked home with her head down and didn't eat dinner was indeed herself.

She stood there for a long time.

It went on for so long that someone around her surpassed her.

After a while, someone caught up from behind, glanced at her, then looked away and continued upwards.

She didn't move.

Xia Xinghan did not speak.

After a long pause, Qiao Chunxia spoke, her voice very soft: "That's all in the past."

The chaotic noise was still going on, but it seemed to have weakened a little.

"I did say those things."

"Back then, I really felt like I couldn't do it, that I was a failure."

She paused.

"But that was back then."

"Not now."

Qiao Chunxia raised her head and looked towards Mount Wushen.

Where is this mountain?

This is my own martial art!

The Martial Ancestor transformed everyone's martial arts into the form of a mountain, manifesting it beneath their feet.

"I will not be trapped in the past; I will move forward. The way of martial arts is to forge ahead with determination!"

She took one step at a time, and then another.

With each step, he became more determined and faster, and the annoying noises around him gradually diminished until they disappeared completely.

The past should remain in the past; learn to keep quiet!

She kept walking.

Then I heard other sounds.

It wasn't her own voice.

It belongs to the father.

"Spring and Summer".

That's what the voice said.

"Stop practicing."

Qiao Chunxia paused for a moment.

"dad----"

"You've been training too hard," the voice said. "I saw it. For the past three months, you've only slept three hours a day. You've been grinding dungeons during the day and training in your dreams at night, and your body is covered in injuries."

I am not—

""

"I know you want to get into a good university." The voice interrupted her. "I know you want your mother to have a good life. I know you feel like you owe this family a lot. You feel that you were trapped in the dream for ten years because your mother shielded you from the [Nightmare]. You feel like you perished in the [Dungeon] because I had to work so hard to make money."

The voice paused.

"But spring and summer."

"You have never owed us anything."

Qiao Chunxia's eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

She knew it was fake.

She knew her father had been dead for three years.

She knew that Wu Shenshan was using her memories, her longing, and her guilt.

But that voice sounded so similar.

It was as if her legs couldn't move.

"dad----"

"Listen to me," the voice said. "Go back. You've done very well. You're number one in Ancheng, good enough for a very good university."

"No need to climb to the top."

"You don't need to work so hard."

"Let's go back."

Qiao Chunxia stood still.

Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't wipe them away.

The voice was still talking.

He said the words she had wanted to hear most all these years. Her father said she didn't owe the family anything, that she was doing very well, that she didn't need to work so hard, and that she should go home and rest.

She thought about it for three years, hoped for it for three years, and waited for it for three years.

I didn't wait.

Now it's finally here.

fake.

But she still wanted to hear it.

She stood there, listening to the voice speak for a long time.

It went on for so long that she almost believed her father was still alive, was really beside her, and was really saying these words.

Then she spoke.

"dad."

The sound stopped.

"I know you are not him," she said. "You are this mountain, my memory, and myself."

"But I still want to say a few words to you."

She paused.

"These past three years—I've missed you so much."

"I got into No. 2 High School. Not through special admission, but through the general admission process. The day the results came out, Dad, you cried, and I cried too."

"After you died in the dungeon, I couldn't improve my skills. It wasn't that I lacked talent, it was that I didn't want to practice."

"I don't think it's useful to practice."

"You'll never come back to watch me practice again."

Her voice trembled slightly; she took a deep breath and suppressed it.

"But three months ago, someone told me something."

She paused.

He said that if one loses their enterprising spirit, practicing martial arts becomes much less effective.

He said, "Martial arts are not the way of ninja."

He said, "If you treat me with respect, I will treat you with even greater respect. If you offend me, I will repay you tenfold."

She smiled.

"I think he's right."

"So I've gotten back into shape now."

"Nurturing innate spiritual power, 921 points, the highest in Ancheng."

She paused.

"dad."

"I will reach the summit!"

The voice did not sound again.

Qiao Chunxia raised her hand and wiped her face.

Then continue upwards.

The fourth test, the fifth test, the sixth test —

The mountaintop.

When Qiao Chunxia took the last step and reached the summit, a breathtaking view suddenly opened up before her.

The clouds and mist surged beneath my feet.

The mountains prostrate themselves like subjects, the sky hangs low, seemingly within reach.

At the very top of the mountain, a figure sat cross-legged like a rock.

He wore a black robe, had black hair, a robust physique, and his face was hidden in the light.

Martial Saint!

A strong wind blew from afar, ruffling her stray hairs.

She took a step forward, preparing for her pilgrimage.

Just then, the Martial Saint, who stood as immovable as Mount Tai, stood up, his body majestic and tall. He clasped his hands in a fist salute to Qiao Chunxia who was walking towards him, and then—bowed deeply!

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