Douluo Continent: The Twin Holy Dragons of Light and Darkness, the Dragon Emperor Breaks Through the

He sat down on the veranda, where the moonlight shone on the bluestone floor, making it look like a layer of silvery frost.

He closed his eyes and felt the night breeze blowing in from outside the courtyard, carrying the scent of earth and the faint fragrance of osmanthus blossoms in the distance.

He let his consciousness sink deep into his body, feeling that stillness.

Ling Feng began practicing staff techniques with this new way of perceiving.

When he picked up the dragon-patterned staff, he didn't start swinging it immediately. Instead, he held the staff and felt its weight and the slight warmth in his palm.

He recalled the patterns on the dragon-patterned staff, those lines he had touched countless times, like the palm of an old friend.

Then he started to move, very slowly, the first sweep of his stick like the wind blowing across the water, not in a hurry to get anywhere.

He could feel the changes in the airflow around the stick, and he could feel the subtle adjustments when his center of gravity shifted.

He discovered that many of his previous actions were performed out of habit rather than through perception.

After practicing the entire set of staff techniques, he stood still, his breathing steady and not hurried.

He stood there, looking down at his hand holding the dragon-patterned staff.

The fingers are relaxed naturally, and the knuckles are not white.

It's another morning.

The fog was lighter than yesterday, and the sunlight was penetrating more easily.

Ling Feng sat on the veranda, holding a cup of hot tea in his hands.

Qian Renxue sat down beside him. She didn't speak, but just looked at the old locust tree in the yard.

After a while, she said, "You seem a little different lately."

Ling Feng took a sip of tea, feeling the temperature of the tea.

"What's different?"

Qian Renxue thought for a moment.

You used to always be on the go.

It feels like we're taking a walk now.

Ling Feng didn't reply, but just looked at the patch of moss in the yard illuminated by the sunlight, the green appearing particularly vibrant in the light.

He was indeed taking a walk.

Like a river, it doesn't need to rush to any particular destination; it can flow slowly.

Before autumn had completely ended, the Martial Soul Realm experienced another rain shower.

The rain was light, fine and dense, like someone scattering a handful of broken rice on the roof, rustling all night long.

The next morning, most of the leaves of the old locust tree in the yard had fallen, clinging damply to the bluestone pavement, which felt soft and gleamed with a dark brown sheen when stepped on.

The air was filled with a crisp, refreshing scent, washed clean by the rain, mixed with the aroma of earth and grass roots, making one want to take a few more breaths.

Ling Feng stood under the eaves, looking at the gray-white sky reflected in the puddles in the courtyard, like a shattered mirror.

He didn't immediately go into the courtyard after the rain; he just stood under the eaves for a while, as if waiting for something.

He waited for the sound of Qian Renxue pushing open the door, for the sound of a knife chopping on a cutting board coming from the kitchen, and for a bird to fly up from the branch of the old locust tree, shaking off a string of water droplets, and flying towards the distant city wall.

He stepped down the steps, his footsteps crunching softly on the rain-soaked fallen leaves.

He walked to the training ground, where the ground was still wet, with shallow puddles in some places, reflecting the light of the beginning of the day.

He stood in the center of the training ground, not immediately starting to practice, but first closing his eyes to feel the humidity of the air after the rain, feeling the water vapor rising from the ground against his skin, slightly cool, carrying the scent of earth.

He slowly exhaled before he began to move.

He didn't use the Panlong Staff; he simply practiced the basic fist techniques with his bare hands.

Every movement was slower and more steady than yesterday, as if each move was dissected and examined from the front, side, and back, looking at its exterior and inside.

After he finished typing it once, he didn't stop and typed it again.

After finishing the second round, he stood still, opened his eyes, and looked at his outstretched fingers. There were a few fine water streaks between his fingers, as if he had just run through the rain.

He could feel the soul power flowing within his body, slowly and steadily, like a stream that had risen after the rain, the water clear enough to see the pebbles on the riverbed.

When Jin Chen arrived, Ling Feng had already been in the training ground for nearly an hour.

Jin Chen changed into her faded old clothes and tied her hair back with a cloth strip.

He walked to the edge of the training ground, and without saying a word, just stood there watching Ling Feng finish practicing the last set of fist techniques.

Once Ling Feng had finished his stance and stood still, Jin Chen stepped onto the stage and stood opposite Ling Feng. He didn't say anything, but simply raised his hands and assumed a starting position.

Chapter 296 Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter

Ling Feng glanced at him and raised his hands as well. The two of them silently began to fight in the damp training ground.

Their movements were slow, as if it were a rehearsal.

Jin Chen threw a punch, and Ling Feng dodged to the side, returning the blow with a palm strike. Jin Chen withdrew his palm to block, took a half-step back, and then stepped forward, using his shoulder to bump into Ling Feng's chest.

Ling Feng did not take the blow head-on, but simply turned slightly to the side, letting Jin Chen's force graz his robes.

The two exchanged blows for more than a dozen moves, but never actually touched each other.

Jin Chen stopped and stood still, looking at his fist as if savoring the power of the palm strike.

He grinned.

"Boss, you've changed."

Ling Feng looked at him.

What has changed?

Jin Chen thought for a moment and said, "Before, fighting with you was like fighting with a rock."

Fighting you now is like fighting water.

It's not that we can't hit them, it's that we can't reach them.

Ling Feng remained silent.

He looked at his hands; his palms were slightly red, marks from being brushed by Jin Chen's palm strike. It didn't hurt, but he could feel it.

He lowered his hand.

"Water doesn't need to block the rocks; it just goes around them."

Jin Chen did not ask any further questions.

He stretched his shoulders. "That makes sense."

Then he turned and walked to the sidelines, picked up the Trident of Poseidon that he had thrown on the ground, slung it over his shoulder, and waved back at Ling Feng.

"I'm going to stand on the city wall for a while."

The wind should be nice today.

Ling Feng did not stay at the training ground.

He went to see Tang San.

The chrysanthemums in that small courtyard in the east of the city have already finished blooming, leaving only a few plants with withered petals, their color faded to dark brown.

Tang San was sitting on the veranda polishing a short sword when he saw Ling Feng walk in. He didn't put down what he was doing, but just nodded as a greeting.

Ling Feng sat down beside him, looking at the empty flowerbed in the courtyard.

The flowers have withered.

Tang San followed his gaze and said, "It will open again next year."

Ling Feng didn't reply and sat quietly for a while.

Tang San finished wiping the short sword, placed it on his lap, and turned to look at Ling Feng.

"You seem different from before."

Ling Feng didn't answer that question, but instead asked something else: "How's your cultivation going lately?"

Tang San remained silent for a moment, as if he was thinking about how to express himself.

"It's more stable than before."

It's still slow.

But when you slow down, you can see more.

Ling Feng listened to these words but made no comment; he simply nodded slightly.

Tang San glanced at him, but didn't ask any more questions. He lowered his head and continued wiping the short sword in his hand.

The short sword reflected a small patch of light in the morning sunlight, landing on the ground between the two men like a small piece of silver.

In the evening, Ling Feng went to the city wall again.

He sat on the crenellations of the city wall, his gaze passing over the lights that were gradually coming on at the foot of the wall, and landing on the gray-blue horizon in the distance.

He felt that his soul power had changed today—not that it had become stronger, but that it had become quieter.

Like those turbulent rivers that have finally found the narrow gate to the exit, they no longer look back or hesitate.

He sat on the city wall for a while, watching the lights of thousands of homes, then looked up at the sky.

The moon hadn't risen yet, but the stars were already shining, not many, scattered across the sky like someone had casually sprinkled a handful of silver sand.

He didn't know how late he sat on that city wall. It wasn't until the soldiers patrolling the city wall changed shifts that Ling Feng stood up, dusted off the dust on his robes, and turned to walk down the city wall.

Qian Renxue was waiting for him at the entrance of the offering hall.

She didn't ask him where he had gone, but simply turned aside to let him in, and handed him a cup of still-warm tea.

"The tea is still warm."

Ling Feng took the tea, took a sip, and found the temperature just right, as if he had calculated exactly when Ling Feng would return.

He carried the tea into the courtyard and sat down on the veranda.

The moonlight illuminated the old locust tree in the courtyard, the stone steps beneath it, and the ground swept clean by the wind.