Devour: Can you also draw entries from clone projection worlds?

In the late autumn of the nineteenth year, Wei Wen went to the border region.

He wanted to see Bi Xuan again. The Turkic Martial Venerable's "Flaming Sun Miracle" and "Power" had left a deep impression on him. After completing the War God Record, he wanted to meet him again.

Bi Xuan is still on that grassland, living in that tent, riding that horse, holding that spear, and accompanied by that eagle.

When he saw Wei Wen arrive, he smiled, revealing a set of white teeth.

"You're here again."

"I'm here again."

Bi Xuan dismounted and sat down on the grass, with Wei Wen sitting down next to him.

The wind was strong on the grassland, rustling the grass.

Bi Xuan asked him how his martial arts training was going, and Wei Wen said it was alright.

Bi Xuan said to demonstrate, and Wei Wen stretched out his hand, a ball of golden true energy condensed in his palm, and then transformed into a golden eagle.

The golden eagle circled twice over the grassland, let out a clear cry, and then transformed into countless golden specks of light.

Bi Xuan stared at the points of light, remaining silent for a long time. "Your 'momentum' is no longer 'momentum'," he said. "It's 'the Way'." Wei Wen didn't feign modesty; he knew Bi Xuan was right. The War God's Manual had elevated him from the level of "using the Way" to the level of "harmonizing with the Way"—not the Way itself, but he could already "harmonize" with it. Bi Xuan looked at the distant Tianshan Mountains, their snow shimmering in the sunlight, like a silver dragon lying across the land.

"I've practiced the 'Blazing Sun Technique' my whole life," Bi Xuan said. "Only when I reached its peak did I realize that what I was practicing wasn't 'Blazing Sun,' but 'myself.' Blazing Sun is me, and I am Blazing Sun. Your 'Dao' is not 'myself,' but 'all things.' You are stronger than me."

Wei Wen said that there is no strength or weakness in martial arts, only the level of one's understanding. Bi Xuan said that your understanding is higher than mine, therefore your martial arts are stronger than mine. This is not modesty, but a fact.

Wei Wen didn't dwell on the matter. The two sat on the grassland for the entire afternoon, until the sun set and the grassland was bathed in golden-red hues. Wei Wen stood up and bid farewell to Bi Xuan.

Bi Xuan didn't try to stop him, saying, "When you're too old to fight anymore, come and retire here. The mutton on the grasslands is better than the steamed buns in Chang'an." Wei Wen nodded, turned, and walked into the twilight.

At the end of the nineteenth year, Wei Wen drew another entry.

White entries. Low quality, but he didn't care anymore. White, green, blue, purple, gold—none of them mattered before the War God's Catalogue. He carefully put away the entries and continued seeing patients and getting medicine at the pharmacy.

In the spring of the twentieth year, Kou Zhong arrived.

He came alone. No Xu Ziling, no attendants, no sword. He wore ordinary coarse cloth clothes, like an ordinary farmer. Looking at him standing at the entrance of the pharmacy, Wei Wen felt as if he had been transported back to Yangzhou twenty years ago. Back then, Kou Zhong looked just like that, wearing tattered clothes, squatting in a corner eating a steamed bun.

"Why are you here?" Wei Wen asked.

Kou Zhong walked in, sat down in a chair, picked up the teapot on the table, poured himself a cup of tea, and drank it all in one gulp.

I missed you, so I came to see you.

Wei Wen sat down opposite him, looking at Kou Zhong's face. Time had left its mark on him; fine lines appeared at the corners of his eyes, and gray hairs sprouted at his temples. But his eyes remained as bright, resolute, and defiant as they had always been.

He asked Kou Zhong what he had been doing all these years. Kou Zhong said he was farming. Wei Wen was taken aback. Farming? Kou Zhong smiled at his expression. "You didn't expect that, did you? I, Kou Zhong, also know how to farm. I cultivate five mu of rice paddies and three mu of vegetable gardens, and I also raise a flock of chickens and ducks. Ziling says the vegetables I grow are sweeter than the ones you buy."

Wei Wen asked him if he enjoyed farming. Kou Zhong replied that he did, more so than fighting.

The two were silent for a moment. Kou Zhong asked if he remembered when they were in Yangzhou, he asked Wei Wen why he stayed there, and Wei Wen said he was waiting for them to grow up. Wei Wen said he remembered.

Kou Zhong looked down at his rough hands. "I only found out later that the two people you mentioned were me and Ziling." Wei Wen neither confirmed nor denied it. Kou Zhong looked up at him, his eyes slightly red, and only said, "Brother Wei, thank you."

Wei Wen picked up his teacup and clinked it against his.

The two chatted for an entire afternoon, about farming, harvests, chickens and ducks, and the vegetables Xu Ziling grew. As dusk approached, Kou Zhong stood up to leave. Wei Wen saw him to the door and asked if he would come again. Kou Zhong replied, "I'll come every spring from now on." Wei Wen agreed.

In the autumn of the twentieth year, Xu Ziling arrived. He came alone, without Kou Zhong or any attendants. He wore a long blue robe and carried a folding fan. He was clean-cut and gentle, like jade. Looking at him, Wei Wen was momentarily reminded of his years in Yangzhou. Back then, Xu Ziling was just as refined and gentle, speaking softly and never offending anyone.

Xu Ziling sat down in the chair, picked up the teapot, poured himself a cup of tea, and slowly sipped it with both hands. Wei Wen asked him how he had been these past few years. Xu Ziling said he had been doing well, spending his days reading, gardening, playing the zither, and occasionally drinking and chatting with Kou Zhong.

Xu Ziling asked him how he was doing in Chang'an. Wei Wen said he was doing well, seeing a doctor and getting medicine every day, occasionally chatting with neighbors, and living a peaceful life. Xu Ziling said that peace was good, peace was a blessing. Wei Wen nodded.

The two were silent for a moment. Xu Ziling suddenly said, "I still keep all those books that taught me to read." Wei Wen said, "That's good." Xu Ziling said, "When you taught us to read, I didn't understand why we needed to. Later I understood that only by reading can we study, and only by studying can we understand principles." Wei Wen said, "Reading is just a tool; understanding principles is the goal." Xu Ziling said, "What you're saying now is the same as what you said back then."

Wei Wen smiled. The two chatted for the entire afternoon, about reading, growing vegetables, playing the zither, and Kou Zhong's rice and the chickens and ducks he raised. As it was getting dark, Xu Ziling stood up to leave, and Wei Wen saw him to the door.

"Dr. Wei," Xu Ziling stood at the door, backlit, "I still find the medical principles you taught me useful. I'm the one who treats any of the neighbors who have a headache or fever."

Wei Wen's eyes welled up with tears. He looked at Xu Ziling and nodded. "It works well."

Xu Ziling bowed, turned around, and disappeared into the alley.

At the end of his twentieth year, Wei Wen stood in the courtyard of his pharmacy, gazing at the moon. The moon was round and bright, its light spilling onto the bluestone slabs of the courtyard, like a layer of silver frost. He had been in this world for a full twenty years. In those twenty years, he had transformed from a nobody, a wandering physician, into a powerful figure capable of discussing Dao with the three Grandmasters; from a stranger to a stranger in a strange land, into "Doctor Wei," accepted by this world; from an opportunist who came only to become stronger, into a cultivator who truly understood the Dao.

It's time to go. He'll come back next time he projects into the world.

The third year, the fourth year, and the fifth year.

Wei Wen took a deep breath and opened the system projection interface.

He then closed the interface, walked back into the pharmacy, sat down by the stove, and poured himself a cup of tea. It was ordinary jasmine tea, slowly unfurling in the boiling water. The fire flickered in the darkness, its warm yellow light casting a long shadow on his face.