You've only been cultivating for a few years, and you're already talking about cultivating

After hearing this, Qi Fei asked with a puzzled look, "Then... why are there more and more of them? Even your senior brother has been affected."

They used to hide, but now they've suddenly appeared; there must be a reason for that.

Chan Kong shook his head, a bitter helplessness appearing on his face: "This humble monk does not know. But I must tell the others in the temple this news."

He took a deep breath, faced Qi Fei, clasped his hands together, and bowed respectfully.

"Thank you for your kindness in protecting the Dharma. Zen Kong will remember this kindness forever."

He took out a leaf from his pocket, a leaf from a Pippala tree, with clear veins and a bright green color, as if it had just been picked from the tree.

The character "空" (empty) is written on the surface of the leaf.

"This is a token of my faith. In the Min Kingdom, it may bring you some convenience."

Qi Fei took the leaf. It felt light and airy in his hand, yet it had a warm and smooth texture, like holding a small piece of warm jade.

He knew this leaf meant he was a friend of Chanxin Temple. In this land of Min, its presence would change many things.

"This humble monk takes his leave."

Zen Kong clasped his hands together, his tone no longer carrying the same carefree and playful air he had when he was with Qi Fei.

Because he had something on his mind.

People with something on their minds don't have the inclination to joke.

Golden lotuses bloomed beneath his feet, and with a flash of golden light, he disappeared before Qi Fei's eyes.

Qi Fei stuffed the leaf into his pocket, shook his head, and continued on his way without dwelling on the little incident.

After walking for a while, he suddenly realized something: the "sword" hadn't said a word.

"You didn't nag at all," he couldn't help but say. "That's really rare."

After a moment of silence, "Sword" suddenly uttered, "Is it possible that... I am not a conscious sword, but rather an aggregate of other people's lingering remnants?"

Qi Fei continued walking, thought for a moment, and said, "That's hard to define. But the fact that you can doubt yourself shows that you're becoming more human."

"Is that so?" "Sword's" voice lowered.

A long time passed, so long that Qi Fei thought it would never speak again, when suddenly "Sword" uttered another sentence:

"It's actually quite nice to be a person. I think I want to be a person in the future, a 'swordsman'."

"...Alright then."

The banter and jokes along the way made the long journey less boring.

He traveled thousands of miles and crossed thousands of mountains. In the beginning, he only dared to follow the caravans, keeping a low profile.

With more paths to walk, my courage gradually grew, and I slowly dared to traverse the desolate wilderness alone, no longer afraid of those unfamiliar mountains and rivers.

He felt he hadn't changed. But the world had changed him without him even realizing it.

The further you go into the heart of Fujian, the more tense the atmosphere becomes.

The Min Kingdom and the Yue Kingdom were at war, or rather, the Chanxin Temple behind the Min Kingdom was at war with the Wuding Sect behind the Yue Kingdom.

Wars between nations are merely an extension of the power struggles between sects.

As Qi Fei traveled from the Yan Kingdom to the Min Kingdom, he gradually came to understand the relationship between cultivation sects and secular kingdoms in this world.

Most of the time, these kingdoms have the shadow of cultivation sects behind them, or are even puppets supported by these sects.

On rare occasions, cultivation sects are hidden within this kingdom, such as the Chanxin Temple and the Wuding Sect.

Qi Fei, who suddenly appeared out of the forest and was not a monk, naturally became a key target for inspection at various checkpoints.

Any soldier guarding the pass would find Qi Fei suspicious.

Without a travel permit, without a history, without a monk's robe, and speaking a different dialect, there was nothing on him that could clearly explain "who you are".

He didn't want to cause trouble, so wherever he went, he would take out the leaf of the Pippala tree that Zenkong had given him.

Surprisingly, it worked remarkably well.

The soldiers took the leaves, examined them carefully, and their expressions and attitudes changed. They respectfully returned the leaves with both hands and waved them away.

Some would even put their palms together, bow slightly, and whisper "Amitabha."

On this day, he arrived at a place called Sanshan County.

The county town is surrounded by three large mountains from the east, north, and west, with only the south side open, hence the name.

After entering the city, Qi Fei replenished his dry rations. As soon as he left the shop and turned around, his gaze fell on a person on the street corner.

That was a beggar.

He was shirtless, covered in mud and grime, with grayish-black stains running from his neck down to his waist. His hair was disheveled, knotted in countless places, with a few dry blades of grass and some unknown debris mixed in.

He was wearing a pair of drab gray pants, the original color of which was no longer discernible, and the pant legs were torn in several places, revealing his equally grayish-black skin underneath.

Half of his lower leg and one foot were buried in the mud, blending into the muddy water on the ground. It was almost impossible to tell which was mud and which was leg without careful observation.

At this moment, he was lying sprawled out on the muddy ground at the street corner, his limbs outstretched, his mouth slightly open, snoring loudly, and flies buzzing around his face.

Some passersby took detours, while others covered their noses and walked past. Occasionally, one or two children would glance at the scene from afar before being pulled away by their adults.

But Qi Fei glanced at him again.

wrong.

He blinked and glanced at it again.

The beggar lay there, covered in mud, with disheveled hair, tattered pants, and flies—every detail was so real it couldn't be more so.

But when Qi Fei used his "Shadow Detection" perception to touch him, it was like reaching out to grab a wisp of fog; his fingers passed right through and he touched nothing.

He seems to be there.

But it doesn't seem to be there.

Qi Fei had never seen such a person before.

He even thought he was seeing things, so he rubbed his eyes and stared intently for a while.

But that feeling never changed; the beggar was there, yet it seemed he wasn't.

So he walked over, stood next to the beggar, and stared down at him.

After more than an hour, the beggar finally woke up.

He first stretched, then squinted, looking groggily at Qi Fei standing before him. His face lit up with joy, and he stretched out his hand, demanding:

"Please, sir, have mercy and give me some food. I haven't eaten for days."

Qi Fei smiled.

He didn't mind the dirt, so he sat down on the muddy ground next to the beggar, took off his bag and put it on his lap, took out the dry food he had just bought, and handed it over.

"Senior," he said, "I can't accept being called 'Grandpa' by you."

The beggar took the dry rations and started eating, mumbling between chews, "What 'senior' nonsense? What are you talking about?"

Qi Fei looked at him and said earnestly, "I traveled thousands of miles, all the way from the north of Great Yan to Sanshan County, and I met countless people along the way."

"There are cultivators, demons, river gods, and monks..."

He paused, his gaze meeting the beggar's cloudy eyes.

"The only one I cannot see through is you, senior."

After hearing this, the beggar smiled and said frankly, "What a pure person, what a sensitive sense."