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The wind stopped.

The gales came to an abrupt stop, and it was quiet all around.

Meng Fuyao looked at the sole she was holding onto and cursed, "F*ck, should've used you sooner!"

The sole launched a sudden kick.


Meng Fuyao flew backward and collided onto the fence, and she felt as though all bones in her body had shattered. She struggled to get to her feet, and sprouted in anger, "How dare you kick me." At that, she pounced forward.

The man, hair draping all over his face, opened his eyes suddenly, his gaze smashing toward her like a hammer. It was deep and open, like an endless whirlpool or black hole that carried an enormous amount of power, and it landed on her body, causing her to pause.

Of course, with her character, Meng Fuyao continued pouncing forward after pausing, eventually landing a hard punch in his tummy.

"For sneaking an attack! For grooming such a bullshit disciple!"

Meng Fuyao was certain that he was Fang Yimo, as no one else could have been as powerful to the point of weaponizing nature. Meeting on such a narrow path, with him immediately executing such a fatal move, there was no doubt that he had already recognized her. If that was the case, was there a reason for her to hesitate? The first to move would be at an advantage, and the last to move would suffer. It was a life and death battle.

She sprung forward, not giving him any chance to control the wind blade. With the '18 Vixen forms' she went at it with her head, hands, legs, and even mouth. At the same time, she even employed the style of Nine Cleaving Heavens. Her head was like an iron ball, and the hand she had reached out was prepared to dig his heart out. The kick was, of course, targeted at his precious eggs, while her mouth was aiming for his throat.

Meng Fuyao pounced with a ferocious and even deadly aura, but the man simply shut his eyes and exhaled.

She felt her vision turn black, as though a hammer had smashed her heart, or as though a kite with a broken string had flown.

'Mother… such a big difference… didn't I use to be the best fighter? How can a mouthful of wind kill me?'


Same collision; same position.

'Crawl up again, attack once more.'


A pool of blood had been formed on the ground, and Meng Fuyao took increasingly long to get up on her feet. Yet, as if numb, she continued staggering to her feet.

She carried her heavy feet, dragging them forward with each step.

'I choose to die in battle. Suicide is no longer a choice in this life!'




On the tenth time, Meng Fuyao wiped the blood on her mouth and got up slowly. After some struggling she swayed over, her vision was slightly scattered while her limbs had turned limp. As she moved the blood from her lips dripped. She crooked her head and simply wiped it off with the cloth over her shoulder before inching toward him with a malevolent smile.

Meng Fuyao saw black once more and instinctively waited for the punch to come from the impact, but nothing happened. The old man sat up and sized her up with a strange expression on his face. "You've come, finally," he stated after some time.

He looked all boney, but his voice was shockingly resounding. The few words buzzed in her ears, and she opened her eyes wide, stuttering, "Ah? You… you knew I was coming?"

"I've been waiting for 13 years."

"Ah?" she let out in surprise, saliva splattering everywhere. 'No way… he had already predicted all of these 13 years ago?' He had foreseen that she would seek him out for the antidote and that they would meet here in this jail?

Wasn't that f*cking godly?

"13 years ago I asked that old fellow what was going to happen if I died before my disciple, separated by a generation, appeared. He said I will meet you sooner or later if I waited here. Who would have expected the 'sooner or later' to turn into 13 years?"

'What is he talking about? Why can't I understand anything?'

"I was thinking last night that if you still do not appear, I would have to start killing," he added. "I have only a day left, and if you had not come, I would have lost a descendant and would have to kill the emperor of this nation."

"Ah… for?" Meng Fuyao stammered. "Why would you kill Zhangsun Wuji's father?"

"For not throwing the right person into jail," he answered directly.

Meng Fuyao was speechless. After a long pause, she asked carefully, "You… are not Fang Yimo?"

"Fang Yimo?" The old man repeated as if the name had been buried deep within his mind and was slowly being hooked out along with a tsunami of memories from years ago. "He is still alive from the battle 13 years ago?"

"Still alive, still alive…" Meng Fuyao cried out before springing toward the old man's feet. "Master… I'm the disciple you've been waiting for, you say? A teacher should support his disciple, is that right? Fang Yimo is inciting his disciple to bully me…"

'Mother, a free teacher… might as well use him before he expires and becomes invalid. One day, though, really?'

The old man lowered his head, spotting her tear-filled face and revealing a bewildered look. "Is this my 'hard-willed and strong-boned' disciple?"

Meng Fuyao choked in embarrassment. "You must see through my appearance to catch the essence of my character…"

"It's too late anyway…" The old man shut his eyes, placing his fingers on the tip of her head. "Your bones are rare… generally speaking, they are decent, but if it's wrong, I'll come back for your life…"

Meng Fuyao choked again at the theatrical and dangerous nature of life.

She felt her head shake, and a gush of warmness flowed down and into her body like a surging wind. It swam around, uninhibited, cleansing away the clotted blood and poison residue. He then slowly pumped up the veins in her body, smoothing out the originally rough inner energy. Like the rising tide, her energy gradually surged.

Meng Fuyao's eyes lit up. 'Damn, is this really happening to me? It's like in the stories, where a powerful being waits for an ordinary person like me to impart his lifelong skills. I'll gain power and travel the world, killing whomever I please…'

She drooled in her dream without realizing that the gust like airflow within her body had gradually surpassed the surge of inner energy and pulse, and had slowly entered her internal organs…

"Stop it!"

It was Zong Yue. Meng Fuyao shot her eyes open, but before she could turn to look, she realized that she was paralyzed and unable to make any sound. The abundant energy was still rushing in regardless of whether or not her body could endure it. She was like a balloon, continuously being pumped with air and continuously expanding. Her blood vessels swelled wide, her vision went blurry, and her temple was pounding. She felt as though her organs, instead of words, might spill if she were to open her mouth…

'So not all free stuff is good stuff…'

"Please stop, Senior!" Zong Yue's voice rang from overhead. It was the first time she heard such urgency in his voice. Out of the corner of her eyes, Meng Fuyao caught a glimpse of his snow-white sleeves fluttering, and the next moment he appeared before the cell door. "Stop, Senior! There's a clash between your skills, and she can't accept your inner energy!"

"What's the problem in that?" He quacked. "I'll just expel her rotten skills."

Meng Fuyao saw black and was about to pass out. 'Expel Nine Cleaving Heavens? The godly skill I've been training so hard for? Just kill me-'

"Please have mercy!" Zong Yue yelled urgently. "There's no need for that. Her channels have been tempered but still insufficient to endure your strength. Please go easy on her!"

"Go easy? With what? I only have a day left, and she must fulfill my wish," he said slowly. "No one told her to come this late. It's already good that I'm willing to give it to her."

The door was kicked open with a bang, and the snow-white robe drifted in. Without a word, Zong Yue extended his palm to press on her head.

"You're crazy!" The old man snorted and waved his sleeves. At the same time, Zong Yue raised an arm to counter his attack.


The collision sounded like metals crashing. Zong Yue's face first turned red, then white, and then transparent, through which a greenish tinge could be seen.

"You are suffering from a chronic disease. Engaging your inner energy will shorten your life. Why seek death when you have a long future ahead of you?" He questioned. "Move aside. I have things to do, and no one can stop me."

Meng Fuyao lifted her head and looked gratefully at Zong Yue but hinting for him to move aside. "I'm just an unlucky egg. Let him do whatever he wants. There's no need to drag you into this."

Not returning her gaze Zong Yue stood, pencil straight, appearing like a pine tree covered in a thick layer of snow. The air around sank, and in seeped an atmosphere containing hesitation and unease.

A long time later he took a step back. Another step.

Meng Fuyao lowered her lids, not wanting to look at and perhaps embarrass him.

He wasn't that old man's match for sure, and leaving was the only right choice.

"Zong Yue, the disciple of the holy doctor, is here to meet you, Sir!" His voice was accompanied by the sound of his knees heavily slamming onto the ground. "Please let her off on behalf of the fact that my master had saved your life 13 years ago."

Meng Fuyao was stunned. From the corner of her eye, she saw the snow-white robe spread across the ground. 'Did he just kneel down? For me?'

'Did he retreat before kneeling so that I wouldn't see it?'

That extremely arrogant, sharp-tongued and compulsive clean freak had gone down on his knees, before a stranger, to plead for her? On such a muddy cell ground at that?

Her heart tightened at these thoughts as blood rushed to her head causing dizziness. She would rather be bombed alive than to witness him going this far to save her. Under his knees was gold that shouldn't be contaminated because of her—"

"You are Gu Yidie's disciple?" asked the old man, rather surprised while turning to him. "No wonder you saw that our inner energies weren't compatible-"

"For what bullsh*t are you kneeling!" A voice bombed like a cannonball as a black line shot toward the old man. The sound it produced was shocking, and where it passed a strong gale rose, knocking over objects. Before the person had reached the cell door, the gale had already caused significant damage to it. "Eat this halberd!"

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