Under One Person, your rebellious life has reached the heavens?

However, the most embarrassing and shameful thing for him was the strange looks from his peers.

Jiang Mo vaguely remembers encountering all sorts of children. Some parents treated him like a plague, avoiding him from afar and whispering instructions to their children:

"Nannan, be careful of these wild children when you encounter them in the future. Without their parents' supervision, they are dishonest and always like to steal things. If you see them, you must stay far away from them."

"Yeah, got it, Mom."

The well-dressed mother and daughter walked away, but their words were like a thorn stuck in the heart of 11-year-old Jiang Mo.

An inexplicable anger erupted from the bottom of his heart. He gripped the glass bottle tightly in his right hand, wanting to throw it at the mother and daughter.

In the end, Jiang Mo was so angry that his chest ached, his hands and feet went numb, and he collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. His pale face was covered in cold sweat, as if he was afraid of some thought that had come to him.

Just a hair's breadth away, young Jiang Mo almost threw the glass bottle at the girl's head, intending to destroy everything and drag the innocent little girl, who only obeyed her mother, into the mess.

From the mother's perspective, it seems natural for her to protect her daughter, but she is actually mean-spirited, stupid and wicked. She insisted on expressing such distorted values ​​in front of two children from different backgrounds, failing to teach her daughter the correct way to treat others and trampling on Jiang Mo's self-esteem.

Jiang Mo could easily detect a sense of superiority in the woman's words.

That was the most pointless mockery of a scavenging orphan by a person with a happy family but a mean nature. It was as if only by stepping on his back and belittling his character could they prove the correctness and foresight of their own ideas.

This woman's stupidity lies in the fact that she has absolutely no ability to stop a malicious villain. If it were any other hot-tempered orphan, the consequences of such a provocation would be far beyond what she could bear.

Besides, there were other cases, where young masters and noble ladies were sitting in cars, presumably children from wealthy families. Jiang Mo's actions while rummaging through the trash cans became the subject of gossip among those pot-bellied rich people. They would teach their children to cherish their current lives while also urging them to study hard to avoid ending up in such a miserable situation in the future.

However, was that a choice Jiang Mo could make at that time?

He was born an orphan, and the only old man who took care of him passed away early. He was like a weed that grew wildly, with only a simple understanding of good and evil.

He was neither strong nor intelligent; he was as ordinary as could be and had no chance of choosing his own destiny.

The warmth of the sun and the chill of the moon, all these things shorten human life...

Everything in the world exists in balance; there is good and bad. Jiang Mo remembered that he was respected later. It was by a young father and son. The man was a teacher in the city, quite knowledgeable and cultured, and his child was chubby and fair-skinned.

When they encounter him, they are not afraid at all; instead, they will proactively and kindly hand over their empty bottles, saying, "Thank you, little friend, could you please help me with this?"

As for the chubby boy, they met a few more times on their way home. Afraid of being scolded by his mother for eating snacks, but unwilling to throw them away, he shared his candy and biscuits with Jiang Mo.

The brand-new packaging and the faint fragrance touched Jiang Mo's heart. He thanked her repeatedly, carefully tore it open, and tasted it. It was delicious, yet there was always a hint of bitterness mixed in—a reaction to the pain in his heart...

Jiang Mo was always grateful for the respect the two showed him, which made him feel a rare warmth.

As time went by, he never encountered the father and son again after he turned 14. Perhaps the man had been promoted or changed jobs, taking his family with him to another place.

At 15-16 years old, even with poor nutrition, Jiang Mo developed rapidly, reaching a height of about 1.7 meters. He walked through every corner of the bustling city and became familiar with some technological products that he had never known before.

Occasionally, I would sneak into the mall to seek a moment of coolness in the sweltering summer.

Jiang Mo achieved his childhood goals, even exceeding them. He could earn 25-30 yuan a day, eat the hot steamed buns he had been longing for, and get new clothes of his own. Although he still lived in a dilapidated shack, Jiang Mo always believed that things would get better day by day.

Everything will be alright, right?

Right?

Maybe?

possible?

The scene before Jiang Mo's eyes, up to a certain winter night when he was 17, was one where endless drowsiness overwhelmed him, and the excruciating pain that seeped into his bones receded like the tide, and he died of illness.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in a time of war. His body was still the same. He struggled and learned about the legends of various schools of strange arts in the martial arts world. The one closest to him and the one that caught his eye the most was the San Yi Sect, which had no restrictions on one's birth.

At 17, just one night later, she was reborn after death.

Jiang Mo wandered in this unfamiliar world for several weeks, enduring hunger and climbing the rugged mountain path, before collapsing into unconsciousness the moment he arrived at the gate of Sanyi.

As dusk fell, the door creaked open, and a young man with a buzz cut stepped out. Upon seeing the unconscious boy, he exclaimed, "Senior brother, there are refugees! Help me!"

"Quick, carry it in, I'll go to the kitchen to prepare some porridge."

Standing at a distance, seemingly detached from this world, Jiang Mo quietly watched as the pale-faced man was carried inside by the young Si Chong. Zuo Ruotong was also in charge of taking care of him. This was in the late Qing Dynasty, the late 19th century.

A few days later, after recovering, he asked his two senior brothers, who were not yet his senior brothers, to join the sect and learn the profound arts.

Zuo Ruotong and Si Chong looked at each other, hesitated for a moment, and then the former gave his answer:

"Young man, the entry requirements may be much stricter than you think."

"Moreover, reversing the natural order is not easy and requires a high degree of mental discipline. If there is any mistake, the consequences can range from dissipation of one's power and disability to death."

"You need to think twice before you act. Besides, whether you can enter the profession is not something we two can decide. Ultimately, your master will have to assess your aptitude. If you are not qualified, you may waste half your life without gaining anything. It would be better to learn a skill as soon as possible and make a living."

Zuo Ruotong patiently explained, without hiding the drawbacks of cultivating against one's natural life force. She even took Jiang Mo to the hall to visit the seniors who had become disabled due to cultivation.

Familiar scenes flashed before his eyes, but Jiang Mo remained unmoved. What happened next was just as he remembered.

His aptitude was terrible, with weak innate constitution. The head of the Sanyi Sect at the time, who later became his master, Huiling Daoist, did not agree to let Jiang Mo join the sect. It was because his body was like a piece of ceramic riddled with holes, which could break at any time and could not withstand the changes brought about by cultivating the reverse life.

However, because the elderly person had urgent business to attend to, they had to hastily decline.

Afterwards, Jiang Mo repeatedly expressed his gratitude and prepared to leave. Finally, Zuo Ruotong, moved by compassion, offered him some advice:

“Master, in these chaotic times, this young brother has no relatives or friends, no one to rely on. If we just send him down the mountain like this, his body won't be able to withstand the hardship, and he'll have a hard time even getting a meal. Even if he's not suited to cultivating the Reverse Life Technique, could you please keep him in the lower courtyard to chop wood and carry water, so he can recuperate?”

"Yes, Master, his body is severely depleted. If it is not properly treated, he may not have much time left to live. I beg you to have mercy and let him stay in the lower courtyard for a while."

It seems that Chong is also pleading for mercy.

"Alright, he will be looked after by the two of you. I have important business to attend to and need to go out for a while." Master Huiling smiled with satisfaction, feeling very pleased with the kindness of his two disciples.

Over the next few months, Jiang Mo spent his days chopping wood and carrying water in the lower courtyard, trying his best to repay the kindness of the Sanyi Sect. He also gradually became acquainted with Si Chong and Zuo Ruotong.

However, his appetite was so exaggerated that it was more than the two of them combined. His body was like a bottomless pit, devouring steamed buns, coarse grains, and wild fruits. Whether it was the food from the Sanyi Gate or the flowers and fruits near the lower courtyard, he wolfed them all down.

Just one month later, 17-year-old Jiang Mo was a completely different person. His physique had more than doubled, and with the medicinal herbs nourishing him from his two senior brothers, his vitality was becoming more and more abundant.

At the end of the second month, Si Chong came to the lower courtyard again. Looking at Jiang Mo, who was full of vitality and had bright eyes, he suddenly had a brilliant idea. He and Zuo Ruotong discussed it and decided to teach him some basic foundation-building techniques and how to obtain Qi step by step.

The result was unexpected. Jiang Mo's talent was not as dull as they had imagined. Rather than saying he lacked aptitude, it would be more accurate to say that he was like a blank sheet of paper, knowing nothing. However, according to the experience shared by the two, he obtained Qi in less than half an hour, a speed that was rare in history.

"Good heavens, this was almost a waste of talent! Senior brother, I knew this young man was capable!"

A hearty laugh echoed from the woodshed.

"That's pretty much what I was thinking. Maybe Xiao Jiang just needs some time. If we're destined to be together, we might even become fellow disciples."

Zuo Ruotong patted the young man Jiang Mo on the shoulder and told him to cultivate for another month and see. When his master returned, there would still be a chance to test him, and he would plead for him then.

In order to see Jiang Mo's greater potential, Zuo Ruotong lent him the basic martial arts classics "Cloud Hand" and "Iron Fist" from the library.

From that day on, the narrow woodshed in the lower courtyard was filled with the sound of fists whistling through the air every day. Whether it was to join a sect or to acquire the skills to survive in the chaos, Jiang Mo dared not slack off in the slightest and devoted himself to rigorous training.

Another month passed, and Jiang Mo underwent an unprecedented transformation. He felt exceptionally strong, his muscles were hard, and he had inexhaustible energy. That ethereal substance called 'Qi' flowed between his flesh and bones, enriching his life.

Moreover, he has made some progress in his Iron-Shattering Fist and Cloud-Supporting Hand techniques, and has learned to incorporate true qi to unleash even greater power.

Although he hasn't even entered the sect yet, only the seniors at the first and second levels far surpass him in strength. According to Zuo Ruotong and Si Chong's observations, a large portion of the other disciples who haven't reached the first level have been surpassed by Jiang Mo. Such talent is already enough to be described as amazing.

Soon after, Daoist Miaohui returned, but he was in very poor condition. It seemed that he had suffered a great blow while he was away. His once radiant face looked as if he had aged more than ten years, and he looked much more haggard. He chose to go into seclusion for a week.

A week later, Zuo Ruotong and Si Chong brought Jiang Mo up the mountain, explained the situation, and pleaded for him again. The disheartened and exhausted Miao Hui Daoist simply nodded and tacitly agreed.

However, when he touched Jiang Mo's head again, he felt a surge of life force and, for some reason, he laughed, a laugh that was somewhat melancholic and self-deprecating.

"What a promising talent... It's just that I was preoccupied with other things recently and let you down..."

Master Miaohui first expressed some remorse and self-reproach, then went straight to the point and asked:

"I'm truly sorry, young friend, but if you don't mind, would you be willing to become my last disciple?"

His statement took the three of them by surprise.

"Quick, quick."

Si Chong muttered something under his breath, while Zuo Rutong's eyes lit up with joy, a warm smile curving his lips. He knew it was a done deal!

"Master, please accept my bow." Jiang Mo bowed three times and kowtowed nine times.

"Okay...okay...okay!!!"

The old man said "good" three times in a row, his emotions running high. He sighed several times and quickly helped Jiang Mo up.

"Child, from now on, follow your master in your cultivation."

Time flies, and time seems to stand still in the mountains. Jiang Mo followed his master closely, cultivating against the odds. After more than ten years, he had reached the peak of the second level and had become close friends with Zuo Ruotong, Si Chong, and other uncles and junior brothers.

This was a feeling he had never experienced before; the envy he felt in his childhood and the longing he felt for his family and relatives were fulfilled here.

Even though he was already in his twenties, almost thirty, many nights when Jiang Mo was awakened by bad news, he would still silently shed tears. He cherished everything he had and regarded the sect as his most important "home".

He was afraid that it was all fake, afraid that no one was truly kind to him, afraid that these living senior brothers, junior brothers, and elders would suddenly disappear one day, leaving him all alone.

In 1913, an hour before the passing of the Taoist Master Miaohui, a group of disciples knelt outside the door, weeping in grief. Only Jiang Mo was summoned into his bedroom, where he confided his feelings and entrusted him with an important mission.

Years later, he finally understood why his master had become so dejected and haggard when he returned for the second time.

The reason was that Miao Hui Dao Ren's senior brother had become a heretical cultivator in the Northern Frontier. His strength was so terrifying that he could not stop him. No matter how he committed heinous crimes, bullied and enslaved many tribes, he was powerless to do anything. In fact, after fighting, he was seriously injured. In the end, the other party spared his life because of their past relationship.

"Mo'er...Mo'er..."

The old man's voice was hoarse, his withered hands tightly gripping Jiang Mo's. His eyes were filled with reluctance, regret, unwillingness, and worry. All these emotions mingled together, turning into turbid tears, but he no longer had the strength to utter a single word.

"Mo'er knows! Mo'er knows!"

Fearing the old man might not hear her and would have regrets, Jiang Mo spoke anxiously and hurriedly, each word clear, her voice trembling with tears.

"I will definitely go to the Northern Frontier, Master. Look at me again, look at me again... Master!!"

"Master!!"

The old man who raised him passed away. He was still young and immature. He cried for several days. He could not accept it, but he had no choice but to accept it.

Now that his master, who treated him like family, has passed away, he is an adult and more sensitive to grief. Knowing that they are separated by death, he cried so hard that his whole body trembled, his eyes were red, as if he was wronged and sad. He bit his lip tightly, his face covered with tears.

The old man cast a strained glance at him, a relieved smile playing on his lips. With all his might, he used his dry, yellowed fingers to wipe away Jiang Mo's tears.

“Mo’er...”

After he uttered those words, his breath slowly faded, his eyes dimmed, his right hand began to fall limply, and his withered skin quickly grew cold.

“Master…”

Jiang Mo could no longer hold back his tears and burst into tears, like a child who had lost everything.

Chapter 439 The final battle before becoming a Venerable One: Defeating Jiang Mo's inner demons of despair (8K, exhilarating)

After Miao Hui's passing, the position of sect leader was succeeded by his senior brother, Zuo Ruotong.

Jiang Mo's cultivation level is still lacking, but he has already seen the path ahead: the peak of the second level is not far away.

Several more years passed quickly afterward, and Jiang Mo remained confined to the back mountain, rarely venturing out.

Guests from various sects would occasionally visit him, but they knew very little about him. They only heard the first and second level disciples talking about how the Left Sect Master had a reclusive junior brother with remarkable cultivation.

During this period, Jiang Mo's cultivation level had subtly surpassed that of his senior brother Zuo Ruotong, and he was winning more and more sparring matches. When he accumulated five victories in a month, his cultivation level had reached a bottleneck.

In the summer of 1917, Jiang Mo revealed the secret of his sworn enemy in the northern frontier to his senior brother. He wanted to go down the mountain to eliminate the demons and seek an opportunity to break through the three levels. At the same time, the world was in chaos and evil spirits were rampant. He wanted to do what he could to slay demons, help the weak and punish the strong, and uphold justice.

"Alright, then junior brother, you'll have to get past me."

That was the last competition. Worried about his junior brother, Zuo Ruotong displayed unprecedented strength, changing his usual gentle attitude to a cold and strict one, and giving full play to all the skills he had learned in his life.

The two sides fought fiercely for hundreds of rounds. Gale-force winds howled through the mountains and forests, birds fled in panic, and layers of rocky terrain shattered. The afterimages were too fast to catch.

In the end, Jiang Mo won. With his superior cultivation and mastery of martial arts, he proved to his senior brother that he had undeniable strength. He broke away from the protection of the sect and went to wander in the war-torn and turbulent world of human suffering on his own.

Half a month later, under the watchful eyes of Zuo Ruotong and Si Chong, Jiang Mo gradually walked away, thus beginning a magnificent and turbulent life.

He set off from Fujian province, encountering so many evil cultivators and bandits along the way that it was shocking. It was at this time that Jiang Mo first discovered that he seemed to have an innate talent for killing.

In particular, when he punched a bandit's corpse into a bloody mist, he remained completely calm, not even flinching.

In chaotic times, human life is as worthless as grass, let alone bandits who wreak havoc on the countryside and rule the mountains.

With the absolute advantage of his highly evolved Qi, no matter how many homemade guns he encountered along the way, no bandit dens could stop Jiang Mo's sweep. He thus stepped over the corpses of countless people and moved closer to the northern frontier.

In order to refine his cultivation and achieve greater perfection, he endured the baptism of numerous bullets. The wounds caused by his Qi transformation gradually healed faster and faster, even to the point of being able to do so at will.

In the spring of 1918, Jiang Mo heard from the streets that strange people from overseas had arrived on the mainland in pursuit of a forbidden magical artifact that had been lost in the Central Plains, and were conducting a large-scale search in the nearby towns.

These forces from all over the world stop at nothing, frequently clashing without any scruples, resulting in the wrongful deaths of many civilians.

Afterwards, Jiang Mo received news that the artifact's whereabouts had been exposed. He rushed to the scene, seized the cup-shaped sacred artifact called 'Blood Spring' from the melee, pretended to be defeated and injured, and fled by boat to a deserted island, where he lured powerful figures from various countries into his scheme.

Immediately afterwards, a great battle broke out, lasting for a day and a night. He shattered the Blood Spring Sacred Artifact and killed more than half of the powerful enemies who were besieging him. As a result, he was injured and nearly died from the damage caused by various foreign secret techniques.