Starting from the world of martial arts in the Condor Heroes, practicing martial arts across the hea

The day after the wood carving was completed, it rained in the Kunlun Valley.

Just then, Jiangnan was already planning to "skip work." So Jiangnan, Huang Rong, and Xiaolongnu lay on recliners, warming jade bee wine beside them, leisurely watching and listening to the rain, emptying their minds, and letting their spirits wander between heaven and earth.

Kunlun Mountains are shrouded in mist, and countless valleys are shrouded in clouds.

The rain in Kunlun falls silently across the entire Kunlun Valley. There is no fierce thunder that shatters the walls, no hurried wind and rain that whips up the storm, only a dense and tranquil drizzle, slowly descending from the leaden-gray dome, like thousands of white silk threads and ten thousand silver strands, gently covering the continuous snow-capped mountains, the vigorous cypress forests, and flowing over the blue stone platforms and mountain cottages.

A light rain dampens clothes without wetting them, and a gentle breeze carries fragrance into the air. The once clear and bright Kunlun Valley is now shrouded in a misty rain. Distant mountains are hidden deep in the haze, their outlines hazy and soft, shedding the harsh and desolate atmosphere of the snow-capped peaks. Nearby, the Kunlun cypress trees are soaked in the rain and mist, their verdant leaves washed clear and transparent by the rain. The crisp, woody fragrance of the centuries-old trees mingles with the fresh scent of the damp mountain grasses and trees, flowing gently with the rain and wind, creating a tranquil and ethereal mountain dwelling atmosphere.

Jiangnan lay under the eaves of a thatched cottage, dressed in simple white clothes, quietly watching the misty rain fall across the mountains.

He lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on the fine raindrops on the steps, listening to the patter of the rain through the trees and leaves. His heart felt neither joy nor sorrow, only a clear and tranquil emptiness. Having spent years in the world, he had witnessed countless rains. To the worldly, rain was merely a seasonal phenomenon, an ordinary occurrence, but for him, who had wandered and traversed the mountains and rivers of Jiangnan, each rain was a mark of time, a reflection of his inner state, a journey of self-cultivation.

Since ancient times, scholars and heroes have been inextricably linked with rain. From the Tang and Song dynasties onward, countless poets and writers have penned verses about rain, depicting its gentle warmth in spring, its torrential downpour in summer, its bleakness in autumn, and its chill in winter; they have written of the sorrow of parting, the longing for home, the initial aspirations, and the ups and downs of life in the rain. Every word and phrase reflects the myriad aspects of human life, every poem and essay a testament to the vicissitudes of time. Having spent half his life listening to the rain and walking through life, witnessing the timeless charm of rain in poetry and prose, and experiencing the myriad rainy scenes on his journey through life, he now sits quietly in his hometown of Kunlun Mountain, listening to the rain, and suddenly realizes that the meaning of rain is the same throughout history, and that the human heart and its circumstances are no different.

This wasn't the first rain he'd ever seen in the world of Condor Heroes, but it was the most calming rain he'd ever experienced.

My thoughts drifted away with the raindrops, and the first thing that fell into the depths of my memory was the ten years of misty rain over Zhongnan Mountain.

Ten years in Zhongnan Mountain, amidst the ancient forest and the flickering lamp, the years passed in quiet solitude. At that time, he had just entered this secluded realm of martial arts, his mind still innocent and clear, untouched by worldly troubles or the storms of the martial world. He spent his days with the green mountains and the trees, practicing his inner energy morning and evening, cultivating his mind day and night. The rain in Zhongnan Mountain is mostly the drizzle of early spring and the cold rain of late autumn, perfectly capturing the serene and tranquil atmosphere of Wang Wei's poem, "After the rain in the empty mountains, the weather turns autumnal in the evening."

Spring rain on Zhongnan Mountain is just as described in Han Yu's poem: "The drizzle on the imperial street is as soft as butter, the grass looks green from afar but is barely visible up close." The rain is gentle and soft, finely soaking the withered trees and new grass in the mountains, silently nourishing all things, neither ostentatious nor harsh, gently soothing the desolation of the mountains and forests in winter. At that time, he often stood on the edge of the cliff in the mountains, listening to the rain, watching the drizzle, the empty mountains, the grass and trees moistened, and the clouds and mist drifting, his heart free of distractions and obsessions, only the pure peace and tranquility of youth.

The cold autumn rains on Zhongnan Mountain in late autumn bring a touch of desolation and chill, much like the lonely scene described by Li Shangyin: "Yellow leaves still fall in the wind and rain, while brothels still play music." The autumn rain drizzles on and on for days, knocking down fallen leaves from the forest floor, washing away the lush greenery, leaving the mountains silent except for the patter of the rain. Ten years of living in the mountains, listening to the rain year after year, the spring rain nourishes the heart, the autumn rain settles the mind. The long, cold years in the mountains, soaked in the misty rain, have worn away his restlessness and cultivated a calm and composed temperament, laying a solid foundation for his future travels in the martial arts world.

Ten years of rain in Zhongnan Mountain nurtured his pure and noble character, and a heart untouched by worldly dust. That was the starting point of his life in the martial world, a gentle period of undisturbed peace, accompanied only by heaven and earth.

He then bid farewell to Zhongnan Mountain, stepped into the mortal world, roamed the land, and traveled far and wide, with wind and rain as his companions. From then on, the mountains and rivers were vast, and the weather was unpredictable. He traveled through countless famous mountains and rivers, and also encountered all kinds of human experiences.

  

He has seen the rain in Huangshan.

The misty rain over Huangshan is a world-renowned poetic spectacle, imbued with the blank-spaced imagery of Song and Yuan dynasty landscape paintings. Clouds and mist swirl around the peaks, and rain clings to the pines. Fine rain washes over the strangely shaped pines and rocks, and the sea of ​​clouds over the peaks, transforming the majestic and precipitous Huangshan into a timeless ink-wash painting. It evokes the refined imagery of the Song dynasty poem, "Fine rain and slanting wind bring a chill to the morning, light smoke and sparse willows adorn the sunny beach," where mountains are hidden in the mist, pines are serene in the rain, and the wind and smoke flow, creating an ethereal and dreamlike scene.

At that time, he wandered the mountains with his sword, traversing alone amidst the misty peaks, witnessing the verdant mountains and shrouded valleys in smoke, the gentle sound of rain, and the soothing mountain breeze. The rain in Huangshan is the poetic misty rain described by literati, gentle and romantic, with a profound and distant atmosphere, inspiring a sense of open-mindedness and allowing one to forget worldly worries. That rain allowed him to understand the beauty of mountains and rivers, and the serene clarity of nature's blank spaces.

He has seen the rain over Taihu Lake.

The misty rain over Taihu Lake is gentle, soft, and lingering, possessing the graceful charm of the Jiangnan water towns. The fine rain falls on the vast lake, without causing any waves or towering surges, only rippling outwards in delicate waves, creating a shimmering, misty atmosphere. Du Fu's poem, "Fine rain, fish emerge; gentle breeze, swallows slant," perfectly captures the essence of Taihu Lake in the rain. Rain falls on the lake, the water shimmering with mist, fishing boats gently rock, ripples spread, and all things are leisurely, tranquil, and serene.

Standing on the shores of Taihu Lake, listening to the gentle rain, the sound is soothing, and the lake and mountains are so serene. This misty rain in Jiangnan washes away the weariness of travel, allowing the body and mind, weary from years of wandering, to find a moment of relaxation and peace. The rain on Taihu Lake is the gentle warmth of human life, the tender beauty of mountains and rivers, holding within it the most peaceful and serene moments of life.

He has seen the rain over West Lake.

The misty rain over West Lake, imbued with timeless poetic sentiment, has inspired countless writers and poets throughout history to capture its beauty in verse. In spring, the fine rain on West Lake is gentle and lingering, perfectly embodying the scene described in Qin Guan's poem, "Fallen petals carpet the path, the pond is still, a light drizzle falls as the sun shines." The misty rain envelops the Su Causeway and the Broken Bridge, willow branches glistening with raindrops, and flowers glistening with dew. The lake and mountains blend seamlessly with the misty rain, creating a hazy, elegant, and tender atmosphere.

Strolling through the rain-drenched alleys of West Lake, watching tourists come and go, the misty rain adding to the charm, the thousand-year-old lake and mountains remain gentle despite the winds and rains. Since ancient times, the rain of West Lake has witnessed the tenderness of talented men and beautiful women, carried the leisurely sentiments of literati, and embraced the wandering hearts of travelers. That rain made him understand the gentleness of humanity, the sentimentality of mountains and rivers, and that the world of martial arts is not just about swords and shadows, but also about the tenderness of romance.

He had also seen the rain in Niujia Village.

The rain in Niujia Village lacks the poetic beauty of famous mountains and the gentleness of water towns; it possesses only the vastness and weight of a nascent encounter in the martial world. It is the birthplace of the Legend of the Condor Heroes, an ordinary village where the winds of change were first stirring. The rain here is mostly a sudden downpour in the height of summer, arriving hastily and falling in torrents. The rain pierces the forest, the wind howls, carrying the roughness of everyday life and the vastness of a newly emerging martial world.

Standing in the misty rain of Niujia Village, watching the thatched houses sway in the rain, the dirt roads muddy and shrouded in mist, the noisy rain in his ears, and the everyday life of ordinary people in his eyes. This rain stripped away the poetic filter of famous mountains and misty rain, allowing him to truly touch the human touch of the world of Condor Heroes—the world of martial arts is never just about elegant landscapes, but also about the livelihoods of ordinary people and the ups and downs of mortals.

He had even seen the rain on Peach Blossom Island.

Peach Blossom Island in the East China Sea is most enchanting and unique in its misty rain. The island's humid climate means that mist and rain linger year-round, with fine rain falling on thousands of peach trees and the azure sea and sandy beach. In spring, the peach blossoms, wet with rain, are vibrant and fragrant, the raindrops clinging to the petals, creating a breathtaking scene. In summer, sea rain arrives on the wind, carrying the fresh air of the mountains and sea, washing away the island's heat. The coconut palms sway in the breeze, and the azure sea is shrouded in mist, creating a serene and ethereal atmosphere.

The rain on Peach Blossom Island embodies the aloof and unrestrained spirit of Huang Yaoshi, the Eastern Heretic, and the serene elegance of this secluded island paradise. Fine rain falls, peach blossoms scatter, mist and rain blanket the sea, and the wind and moon are tranquil; it possesses both the delicate beauty of "a lone figure amidst falling blossoms, swallows flying in pairs in the light rain," and the expansive grandeur of mountains and seas. At that time, he stood in the peach grove on Peach Blossom Island, listening to the rain pattering on the peach blossoms, watching the fragrant blossoms fill the path, his heart filled with reflections on the myriad aspects of the martial world, each with its own character and charm.

For more than a decade, I have traveled extensively, from the Zhongnan Mountains to the vast landscapes of the world, from famous scenic spots to ordinary villages. In Jiangnan, I have witnessed the myriad charms of rain in Tang and Song poetry, and personally experienced countless rain showers in the world.

He had encountered the gentle, timely spring rain described in Tang poetry, such as Du Fu's "Good rain knows its season, it falls when spring arrives. It follows the wind into the night, silently nourishing all things," gentle and silent, nourishing all things, containing the gentle expectation of the new life of heaven and earth;

I have encountered the melancholy and longing autumn rain in Tang poems, such as Li Shangyin's "You ask when I will return, but there is no set date; the night rain in Bashan swells the autumn pond." The drizzling rain evokes thoughts and carries the wandering thoughts of travelers far from home.

Having experienced the expansive and detached spirit of Song Dynasty poetry, such as Su Shi's "Do not listen to the sound of rain pattering through the forest, why not chant and stroll leisurely? Let the rain and mist of life take its course," one has washed away all attachments, become calm and open-minded, and possesses a clear-headed state of mind that has experienced ups and downs.

I have encountered the melancholy and twilight described in Song Dynasty poetry, such as Jiang Jie's "Now I listen to the rain under the monk's hut, my temples are already gray. Joy and sorrow, separation and reunion are all heartless, let the raindrops fall on the steps until dawn," which fully expresses the helplessness of the ups and downs of life and the gatherings and separations of people.

After the Yuan and Ming dynasties, the imagery of rain in poetry and prose became more understated, lacking the soaring spirit of the Tang dynasty and the delicate sentiment of the Song dynasty, and gaining a more down-to-earth and realistic portrayal of everyday life. Qing dynasty writings on rain were simple and serene, depicting the winds and rains of the four seasons, the livelihoods of people, and the ordinary joys and sorrows, shedding elegant embellishments to reveal only the true essence of time. In modern times, writers' depictions of rain have further shed their classical elegance, gaining a greater sense of tranquility amidst the vastness of mountains and rivers, and a deeper appreciation of the weight of human life; the wind and rain remain, but the emotions within are myriad.

Throughout history, countless rains have fallen on millennia-old mountains and rivers, and touched the hearts of countless people. The rain itself never changes; what changes are the people who observe and listen to it.

In the past, when I listened to the rain in Zhongnan Mountain, I was a carefree young man. Seeing the rain brought me joy, and my mind was pure. I was unaware of the hardships and suffering of the world.

Listening to the rain at West Lake in Huangshan is a poetic experience for travelers, a chance to immerse themselves in the gentle beauty of the mountains and rivers.

Listening to the rain in Niujia Village is like entering the world for the first time, seeing the rain as a part of life, first knowing the vicissitudes of life, and gradually understanding the ups and downs of the world.

Listening to the rain on Peach Blossom Island is a test of one's martial arts skills; seeing the rain is a sign of integrity; having witnessed the myriad aspects of human nature, one understands the coldness and warmth of the martial arts world.

The rains he's seen, the poems he's read, the roads he's walked, and the things he's experienced have all settled deep within his heart, shaping him into the composed, insightful, and balanced person he is today.

Today's rain in the Kunlun Valley is completely different from any of the past misty rains.

This was his first home in the world of Condor Heroes.

Having wandered the world for years, making the four seas his home and mountains and rivers his pillow, he has traversed countless mountains and rivers, witnessed countless storms, yet remains a sojourner. Zhongnan Mountain is his former place of cultivation, but it lacks the warmth of human connection; Huangshan and Taihu Lake are scenic wonders, but they are merely passing through; Niujia Village and Peach Blossom Island are inns in the martial world, but none are his true home. Only this Kunlun Valley is the harbor where he has personally settled and found peace, the place where he can shed his wanderings and find solace for his body and soul.

A mountain rain at home is most calming.

The misty rain continued to fall softly, shrouding the distant mountains in fog and the nearby trees in moisture. The entire Kunlun Valley was so quiet that only the sound of rain, wind, and the clear rustling of the trees could be heard. There was no hustle and bustle of the martial world, no conflicts or disturbances, no arduous journeys, only the tranquility of mountain dwelling and the peaceful misty rain.

Jiangnan slowly stepped out from under the eaves, letting the fine rain gently brush his brows and eyes, and dampen his clothes. The cool rain seeped into his skin, dispelling the restlessness of the world and cleansing his mind of distractions. He looked up at the vast rain curtain, his eyes clear and gentle, and all the memories of his past life, like mist and rain, surged into his heart, finally finding peace in the misty rain of his hometown today.

In the past, listening to the rain was a way for travelers to appreciate the scenery and for passersby to reflect on their experiences. They saw the beauty of the rain, felt the emotions of the wind and moon, and understood the sorrows of parting and the vicissitudes of life.

Listening to the rain at home in the mountains now brings a sense of peace to those returning home and tranquility to those who live in peace.

Finally, he no longer had to brave the wind and rain to travel the world, no longer had to search for his way forward in the misty rain, no longer had to drift alone in the torrential rain. He guarded a peaceful mountain dwelling, accompanied by a century-old cypress forest, listening to the rain of his hometown, and watching the scenery of his old home. The wind and rain were gentle, and the years were peaceful.

At that moment, he fully understood the meaning of rain in all the poems and prose, ancient and modern.

When Tang Dynasty poets wrote about rain, they depicted the grandeur of mountains and rivers and the splendor of the four seasons; when Song Dynasty poets wrote about rain, they depicted the joys and sorrows of life and the ebb and flow of emotions; and when later generations wrote about rain, they depicted the sedimentation of time and the ordinariness of everyday life. In the end, every rain in the poems and lyrics of the ages is a reflection of the human heart and a mirror of one's circumstances.

Listening to the rain in the mountains in my youth is like a Tang poem, clear and uplifting, with the landscape reborn everywhere I look.

Wandering through the world, listening to the rain, like a Song Dynasty poem, it is melodious and poignant, filled with the joys and sorrows of gatherings and partings;

Returning to Kunlun to listen to the rain is like a simple and unadorned essay in modern times, washing away the embellishments and elegance, leaving only peace, composure, and the original true heart.

The rain falls on Kunlun, each sound penetrating the heart.

It is not as cold and lonely as the autumn rain of Zhongnan Mountain, nor as tender and affectionate as the misty rain of Jiangnan, nor as hasty and fierce as the sudden rain of Jianghu. The rain of Kunlun Mountain is calm, gentle, quiet and peaceful, carrying the clarity of the snow-capped mountains and the warmth of returning to the mountains, gradually soothing the weariness of his half-life of wandering and settling his heart after many years of wandering.

Standing quietly in the rain in Jiangnan, my body and mind are clear and my thoughts are at ease.

He suddenly understood that in this life, everyone walks through wind and rain, and everyone grows amidst the mist and rain. There is no eternally clear sky in this world, nor is there ever perpetual wind and rain. All the trials and tribulations, all the ups and downs, are gifts of time, a form of spiritual cultivation.

I used to admire Su Shi's carefree spirit of "letting life take its course in a straw raincoat and misty rain," always wanting to roam the world with a sword, fearless of wind and rain, relying on my martial arts skills and courage to venture across the vast land, undaunted by the hardships of life. Only after experiencing countless trials and tribulations and returning home do I realize that what is more precious than fearlessness of wind and rain is the peace and certainty after weathering the storms, the unwavering original aspiration after seeing countless landscapes, and the tranquility and composure of finally finding a place to return to after a life of wandering.

Raindrops fall softly on the steps, day and night without ceasing, just like the passing years, flowing slowly and never stopping.

Ten years of misty rain in Zhongnan Mountain tempered his character and nurtured his integrity; the storms of the world tested his strength and broadened his horizons; the misty rain in famous mountains and villages enriched his experience and nourished his sentiments. All the trials and tribulations he had endured, the poems and books he had read, and the principles he had comprehended ultimately transformed into his confidence and composure, settling into his gentle yet restrained, strong yet gentle, spirit of the martial world.

The rain was still falling, the fog was still flowing, and the Kunlun Valley was completely silent, with only the patter of rain, the gentle breeze, and the lingering scent of cypress.

Jiangnan stands quietly in the rain, her eyes gentle and her mind clear, untouched by the vicissitudes of a life of wandering, and unburdened by the strife of the martial world.

There are countless rainstorms in the world, but none can compare to the peace and tranquility of a single rainstorm in my hometown.

Throughout history, countless people have listened to the rain to gain enlightenment, observed the rain to find peace, and expressed their feelings through the rain. The ancient charm of rain has flowed to this day, permeating every person in this mortal world. How fortunate he is to have traveled across the world, experiencing its misty rains, and finally returned to his home in the mountains. In the deep valleys of Kunlun, in his tranquil dwelling amidst the misty rain, he can reconcile with the past, embrace half a lifetime of wandering, and in the ordinary storms, comprehend the most precious human fulfillment and the true heart of wandering.

The wind stopped, the rain subsided, and the mist gradually dissipated.

The distant mountain mists gently recede, revealing verdant peaks and ridges. The Kunlun Mountains, after the rain, are even clearer, brighter, and more expansive. Cypress leaves are adorned with dewdrops, and the vegetation is moist. A refreshing air permeates the mountains, and the landscape is completely renewed.

Jiangnan slowly raised her eyes, gazing at the Kunlun Mountains as the sky brightened after the rain, her eyes gentle and serene.

Half a lifetime spent wandering the world amidst mist and rain, one day listening to the rain, I returned to my true self.

May he find peace in his mountain dwelling, even amidst storms and ups and downs, and may he remain steadfast in his pure heart, carrying the weight of his experiences, walking calmly through life, and gently navigating the landscape of time.