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

He looked up and saw that the moon was rounder tonight than last night, its clear light as bright as silk, covering the entire courtyard.

He put down his teacup, closed his eyes, and quietly felt the flow of soul power within his body, sensing the power that arose from stillness slowly growing deep within him.

Winter in Wuhun City arrives neither too early nor too late, like a slow train slowly pulling into the station along a fixed track.

After the sycamore leaves outside the city have all fallen, the sky appears exceptionally open, with a gray-blue dome pressing low over the rooftops. Occasionally, flocks of birds fly by, only to be quickly carried away by the wind.

The people in the city have put on thicker clothes, and the heat at the morning market is even stronger than in summer. There are always queues in front of the steamed bun shops, and the white steam from the steamers rises in the cold air like soft pillars that twist and turn in the morning light before dissipating.

Ling Feng did not change his routine just because winter was coming.

He still gets up every morning, sits on the veranda for a while, drinks a cup of hot tea, and then goes to the training ground to practice his skills.

When it's cold, the old locust tree's branches are bare, like a painting outlined in ink, appearing particularly slender under the gray sky.

He stood under the tree, his breath spreading out in front of him, the air carrying a frosty scent.

He began practicing staff techniques. The Panlong Staff felt cold to the touch, but it quickly warmed up, like an iron rod that had been heated by fire, slowly getting warmer.

His movements were more refined than before, his power seemed compressed, and the sound of each strike was brief and crisp.

That morning, the frost was heavy, and the bluestone slabs in the courtyard gleamed with a silvery-white light, making them a little slippery to walk on.

After Ling Feng finished practicing a set of staff techniques, he stood still and noticed that a thin layer of ice had formed at the end of the Panlong Staff, which reflected slightly in the morning light.

He didn't wipe away the layer of ice; he just watched it melt in the sunlight, turning into a drop of water that slid down the stick and dripped onto the bluestone slab, leaving a small, dark stain.

He suddenly realized that he had never noticed that the Panlong Staff could freeze after practicing for so many years.

It was always in his hands, and always warm.

This was the first time he had seen it turn cold.

Qian Renxue came out carrying a pot of hot tea and stood beside him.

She placed the teapot on the stone table, poured a cup, and handed it to him.

"It's colder today than yesterday."

Ling Feng took the tea, warmed his hands with it, and felt a warmth spread from his fingertips as his cold fingertips touched the warm cup.

"Hmm, the frost is heavy."

Qian Renxue didn't urge him to go back inside, nor did she tell him not to stand in the yard for too long. She simply poured herself a cup of tea and stood with him in the winter morning light.

The two stood side by side, looking at the bare old locust tree in the yard. The steam from their teacups rose gently into the cold air, swirled a few times, and then dissipated.

That day at lunchtime, Ling Feng sat on the veranda with a bowl of hot soup in his hand. The soup contained radish and mutton, with a few goji berries floating on the surface. After taking a sip, he felt warm inside and out.

Jin Chen sat down opposite him, holding a large bowl filled with the same soup.

He took a few sips and smacked his lips.

"Boss, how's your training going lately?"

Chapter 297 Hunting Divine Beasts

Ling Feng put down the bowl.

"good."

Jin Chen thought for a moment, seemingly considering how to phrase it.

“I watched you practice your skills on the city wall that day, and the way you swung your staff was different.”

Ling Feng didn't ask what was different.

Jin Chen didn't explain, but took another sip of soup and nodded, as if he had confirmed his own statement.

A few days later, when Ling Feng went to the small courtyard in the east of the city, the sky was overcast, as if it was about to snow.

Tang San was chopping firewood in the courtyard. The chopped firewood was neatly stacked against the wall, arranged with utmost care.

Ling Feng stood at the gate of the courtyard for a while, watching Tang San stand up a piece of thick wood, raise his axe, and chop it down, splitting the wood in two.

After chopping the last one, he leaned the axe against the wall, straightened up, and saw Ling Feng standing at the door. He then let Ling Feng into the courtyard.

The two sat down on the veranda.

Tang San was silent for a while before saying, "I've encountered a new problem in my cultivation recently. When my soul power flows to the vicinity of my shoulder blades, it gets blocked, as if something is stuck there."

After listening, Ling Feng didn't give an answer immediately, but instead asked, "How do you feel when you're stuck in traffic?"

Tang San thought for a moment, as if he was seriously experiencing that feeling.

"It's like a stream of water flowing into a narrow opening, unable to pass through, and being blocked back."

Ling Feng nodded.

"Then don't rush to let it pass. Stop there for a while and see why it's blocking the way. Sometimes, the road isn't cleared by force; it just finds its own way out."

Tang San nodded, not asking any further questions, but keeping those words to himself.

As Ling Feng left the courtyard, fine snow began to fall from the sky, as fine as grains of salt. It landed on his robes and melted quickly.

He walked slowly, letting the snowflakes fall on his shoulders, his hair, and into his outstretched palms.

When he returned to the offering hall, Jin Chen was coming out, holding a freshly roasted sweet potato. The skin of the sweet potato had cracked open, revealing the golden flesh, which was steaming hot.

Jin Chen broke the sweet potato in half and handed one half to Ling Feng.

Ling Feng took it, took a bite, and gasped as it was so hot, but he still swallowed it.

Jin Chen squatted on the ground, eating sweet potatoes in large bites, and mumbled, "Boss, with such heavy snow, do you think we can still practice our skills tomorrow?"

Ling Feng watched the bluestone slabs in the courtyard gradually turn white.

"Yes, there are different ways to practice martial arts in the snow."

That night, the snow fell heavily, not in a fierce, all-encompassing blizzard, but in a patient, unhurried manner, falling finely and densely, as if someone were sifting flour on the roof.

Ling Feng sat by the window, which was slightly ajar. A cold wind carrying fine snow slipped in through the crack and settled on the windowsill, quickly forming a small layer.

He reached out and drew a line on the thin layer of snow with his finger, then another line, then a circle, then a square, and then he stopped and watched the lines slowly blur in the snow.

On a new day, before dawn, Ling Feng pushed open the door.

The snow in the yard had accumulated to a depth of half a foot, and the branches of the old locust tree were covered with a layer of white, as if they were wearing winter clothes.

He walked into the snow, his boots crunching underfoot, the sound particularly clear in the quiet morning.

He stopped, took a deep breath of the cold air, and then began to practice his skills.

After practicing a set of staff techniques, Ling Feng stopped and stood still. He didn't leave immediately, but stood in the snow for a while, looking at the footprints he had left behind.

The footprints stretched from under the corridor all the way to the center of the drill ground, and then turned back.

He returned to the veranda and sat down on the cleaned stone steps.

The snow was still falling, and he could see his breath dissipating in the air before being filled by new snowflakes.

He lowered his gaze, which fell on his outstretched palm.

The snow fell into my palm, cool and refreshing, like a white petal blown away by the wind.

Then he closed his palms and felt the snow melt in his palms.

He suddenly felt that he was beginning to understand many things, not through thinking, but slowly and silently, like a snowflake falling into his palm, into his heart.

Winter in Wuhun City passed in silence.

When the snow melts, the old locust tree in the yard is the first to sense the arrival of spring. Tiny, rice-grain-sized buds sprout from its branches, yellowish-green in color, as if they had been squeezed out of the bark overnight.

Ling Feng stood under the tree, looking at the new buds, and suddenly felt that time was passing very quickly, yet also very slowly.

It's fast because the winter snow seems to have fallen just yesterday, yet it's slow because he has stood under this tree for countless mornings, each morning feeling like a continuation of the previous one.

He began to sense some changes.

It's not a change in soul power, nor a change in techniques, but a deeper, more subtle change.

The golden holy dragon within him seemed even quieter than before.

Quietness is not sleep, but a state of observation.

Once, while he was sitting on the veranda drinking tea, he suddenly sensed a slight fluctuation in the Holy Dragon's consciousness, as if someone was whispering something in the distance. He didn't hear it clearly, but he knew that the words were there.

He put down his teacup, closed his eyes, and tried to capture the fluctuation, to pinpoint its source and direction.

He detected it; the fluctuation came from a much farther place, farther than the Starry Sky Forest, farther than Sea Breeze City, farther than any place he had ever set foot in.

Ling Feng went deep into the Hall of Worship, to the secret chamber where the token of the God of Destruction was enshrined.

The purple token lay on the stone platform, gleaming with a dark luster in the dim light.

He picked up the token, his fingertips touching its cold surface. The token warmed slightly in his palm, as if it had sensed something.

He closed his eyes and focused his mental energy into the depths of the token.

He entered that purple space, where endless lightning intertwined in the void, like countless giant purple pythons writhing, each flash of lightning accompanied by a deep rumble.

The God of Destruction stood in the center of that void, hands behind his back.

He didn't turn around, but he knew Ling Feng had arrived.

"You felt it."

The voice of the God of Destruction was deep and resonant, as if it came from a very distant place.

Ling Feng stood behind him.

I felt it.

My Holy Dragon Martial Soul is still missing a few spirit rings.

The God of Destruction turned around and looked at him with his purple eyes.

"The Holy Dragon of Light's first soul ring is a million years long, and it was sacrificed by the Fire Dragon King, Chi Yan."

However, the second to ninth spirit rings are all missing.

You need to hunt down mythical beasts to obtain the corresponding spirit rings.

Ling Feng remained silent for a moment.

"A divine beast from the realm of gods?"