Douluo Continent: My name is Yang Jian, and I achieved sainthood through my physical body

Yang Chan hummed an unknown tune as she went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. The sound of rushing water and the clattering of dishes drifted out of the kitchen along with her intermittent humming.

Yang returned to his room, and soon the light behind the door came on, presumably because he still had a few pages left to read from the book he borrowed from the academy.

Zhu Zhuqing tidied the table and wiped the stove before slowly going upstairs.

Yang Jian did not return to her room immediately.

He sat on a stone bench under the osmanthus tree in the courtyard, leaning against the rough trunk.

The night breeze passed by him and then left.

The starry sky overhead was clear and deep, with stars like tiny diamonds scattered across the entire night.

In the distance, the faint sound of dogs barking could be heard from the street, and further away, the indistinct voices of people drifted from a window. The sounds were all muffled and unclear, as if they were seen through several layers of gauze.

He sat there for a long time, not knowing exactly what he was thinking. Perhaps he was thinking a lot, or perhaps he wasn't thinking about anything at all.

The night breeze carries the fragrance of osmanthus blossoms in waves, then carries them away again.

The stone bench gradually cooled down, and dew began to condense on the tips of the grass blades.

……

When Yang Jian woke up the next morning, it was already daylight.

Light streamed in through the edge of the curtains, drawing a bright golden line on the floor.

He got out of bed, put on his coat, and opened the window.

The morning breeze carried the moist scent of grass and trees, cool and refreshing, mixed with the faint aroma wafting from the steamer baskets of breakfast stalls in the distance.

He glanced back at Zhu Zhuqing, who was still fast asleep on her side on the bed.

Zhu Zhuqing's breathing was even and deep, her long black hair spread out on the pillow like a piece of unfurled silk.

The half of her face exposed outside the blanket still bore faint pink sleep marks that hadn't completely faded, making her look as quiet as a frozen painting.

He didn't wake Zhu Zhuqing and quietly went downstairs.

Chapter 220 Who Will Save Us?

At the breakfast table, Yang Jian picked up the bowl of porridge and took a sip.

The warm rice porridge slid down my throat and into my stomach, carrying a sweet aroma of rice.

He put down his bowl and said, "I want to go for a walk."

The four words were spoken softly, yet they were exceptionally clear on the quiet breakfast table.

Yang Chan's chopsticks, which were holding a steamed bun, paused in mid-air. She looked up at him and asked, "How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know," Yang Jian said. "It could be a few days, or it could take longer."

Yang Chan held her chopsticks without moving, her little mouth slightly pouting.

But in the end, he just nodded and said, "Then be careful and come back soon."

After saying that, he lowered his head and continued drinking his porridge, but his movements of picking up the steamed buns were a little slower than before.

Yang Jiao was silent for a few seconds, then put down his chopsticks and looked at him: "Be careful on the road, don't be too impulsive, and come back early when you're done. There's food at home."

Zhu Zhuqing never looked up, keeping her head down as she drank the porridge in her bowl. Her movements were very slow, as if she wanted to count every single grain of rice with a spoon before putting it into her mouth.

After a while, she put down her chopsticks, gently tucked a stray hair behind her ear with her fingertips, looked up at Yang Jian, and said softly, "Be careful."

After saying that, she stood up and cleared the dishes on the table, stacking the empty bowls together, gathering the chopsticks together, and carrying the tray as she turned and walked towards the kitchen.

Yang Jian noticed that she tilted her head slightly when she turned around, as if she was hesitating about something, but in the end she didn't say anything.

The footsteps faded into the distance and disappeared into the kitchen.

Xiao Wu sat in the farthest corner of the table, with a plate of chopped carrots in front of her.

She lowered her head and nibbled on the food, the crisp "crunch crunch" sound particularly distinct on the quiet dining table.

Her eyelashes trembled slightly, but she never looked up, said nothing, and just silently stuffed carrots into her mouth.

Yang Jian pushed open the courtyard gate and walked out. The gate closed behind him with a soft sound.

His figure disappeared through the crack in the door, and his footsteps echoed a few times on the stone path in front of the door before fading into the distance.

He didn't fly or use his soul power to accelerate; he simply walked out of Heaven Dou City.

At the city gate, early-rising vendors were unloading their goods and setting up their stalls, while several old farmers driving horse-drawn carts to deliver vegetables shouted and urged their livestock through the city gate.

Dust churned in the morning light, like a pale golden mist.

Yang Jian walked out of the city gate without looking back, randomly choosing a direction and striding forward.

That direction was neither the Star Dou Great Forest nor Wu Hun City, but just a country road leading to the northern mountains.

The road surface was full of potholes, with wild grass and unidentified shrubs growing on both sides. Occasionally, deep ruts and scattered hoofprints of cattle and sheep could be seen on the road.

After walking for about an hour, the farmland on both sides gradually thinned out, and the houses became fewer and fewer, replaced by rolling low hills and groves of forest. In the distance, the outlines of mountains became even more hazy, stretching endlessly to the horizon.

The sky was high and vast, like a piece of blue cloth that had been washed many times.

The sense of openness makes you want to take a deep breath of the mountain air.

three days later.

Yang Jian arrived at a remote mountain village nestled in a valley between two mountains.

The village is very small; it's only about a hundred steps from one end to the other.

The house was low and simple, with walls made of yellow mud mixed with stones. Moss and weeds grew in the corners, and the roof was covered with dark gray tiles, some of which were broken and displaced, revealing the dark brown wooden beams underneath.

At the entrance of the village stands an old banyan tree with a broad canopy like a giant green umbrella. Many slender aerial roots hang from its branches, swaying gently in the breeze like countless fine curtains.

The villagers are busy at the village entrance and in the fields.

Some were bending over to hoe weeds, some were carrying wooden buckets along the ridges of the fields, and some were squatting by their own vegetable plots pulling weeds.

Several elderly people sat on stones under a banyan tree, smoking their pipes, squinting, and occasionally exchanging a few words in low voices. The whole village was peaceful and serene.

Suddenly, a panicked shout and a sharp scream came from the direction of the village entrance.

A group of people dressed in black rushed down the mountain road and stormed into the village.

Each person wore a fierce and unrestrained expression. Some held long swords, the blades gleaming coldly in the sunlight; some swung iron chains, making a clanging sound; and others had dark purple soul power gathered in their palms, emanating an unsettling aura.

They didn't enter houses or rob anything; they just started arresting people as soon as they entered the village.

An old woman pulling weeds by the edge of a field was grabbed by the hair and dragged to the ground. She screamed and thrashed wildly at the ground with her hands. The next second, a foot in a leather boot stepped on her back, pressing her down so she couldn't move.

A child chasing a hen at the village entrance was suddenly picked up by someone.

He kicked his legs wildly in the air, letting out terrified cries, and dropped the branch he was holding to the ground.

A young woman holding a baby turned and ran towards the back of the house, but before she could take two steps, two people surrounded her from both sides and grabbed her shoulders.

The baby's cries were heart-wrenching, mingling with the mother's screams.

The villagers' wails, pleas for mercy, and cries of fleeing were all mixed together, but the depraved showed no mercy.

The iron chain swung out, entangled the ankles of the fleeing villagers, and tripped them.

The back of the knife struck his back and shoulder with a dull thud.

Before long, several people were beaten until their heads bled, and they lay on the ground curled up, groaning in suppressed pain.

Soon, all the villagers were captured and tied together with chains and ropes, young and old, men and women huddled together.

The cries and shouts mingled together, jarring and desolate in the afternoon sunlight.

Some people closed their eyes and trembled as they recited prayers to the gods and Buddhas.

Someone was holding their child tightly, their body trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Some people were sobbing softly, as if preparing for their final moments.

A fallen being who appeared to be the leader squatted under the old banyan tree at the village entrance, drawing some kind of complex and twisted magic circle on the ground with his own blood.

The lines stretched crookedly across the ground, overlapping and intertwining to form a bizarre pattern. The powdery lines gleamed a dull grayish-white in the sunlight.

As the villagers looked at the lines, some swallowed hard, some closed their eyes, and some continued to plead in hushed tones.

But the fallen ones merely exchanged knowing glances, a cruel smile curving their lips.

"Help... Someone please save us..."

An old woman's voice was hoarse and dry, her lips already cracked, filled with an almost desperate plea, "Someone, please save us..."

Ah!

Suddenly, a scream rang out.

The villagers shuddered, some instinctively closing their eyes, thinking the fallen ones were about to start killing.

The leader of the fallen ones was also stunned for a moment. The magic circle hadn't been drawn yet, so who would dare to make a move?

He frowned and stood up, about to reprimand his subordinates, but when he turned to look in the direction the voice came from, he saw a young man in white standing next to the old banyan tree at the village entrance.

The boy looked very young, probably not even twenty years old.

His face was calm, and his eyes were fixed on the leader of the fallen, as if he were looking at an insignificant object.

Chapter 221 What's your name?

The leader of the fallen suddenly narrowed his eyes.

Before he could even ask who the newcomer was, the young man in white had already appeared in front of him.

A fist rose and fell.

The next instant, the leader of the fallen beings' bodies shattered like a porcelain vase struck by a giant hammer, the fragments flying in all directions and landing on the ground with muffled thuds.

Upon witnessing this scene, the other fallen ones' fierce arrogance instantly turned into extreme terror.

Some people turned and ran, while others threw down their chains and long knives and fled.

But the boy in white was much faster than them.

He was like a wolf among sheep, sweeping past every fleeing degenerate, his fists and palms landing with precision, and no one could escape the village.