Chapter 150: Chapter 121: Two in One
He successfully drew in a sliver of Moonlight, which sank into his lower abdomen.
The cool sensation instantly spread through him. It wasn’t cold; on the contrary, it brought an indescribable pleasure, like taking a sip of mountain spring water on a scorching hot day.
Wan Ze opened his mouth.
Like a whale swallowing the sea, he continued to draw it in without pause.
One sliver, two, three... then ten... then twenty...
His Magic Sense was throbbing wildly.
Wan Ze could feel the number fluctuating wildly, but he couldn’t spare it a glance right now.
With each inhalation, the cool sensation seeped a little deeper, as if something inside his body was beginning to awaken.
Wan Ze stood motionless, like a tree that had taken root, greedily and silently devouring the endless Moonlight.
...
「The next day at noon.」
Fang Hao’s boat docked for supplies.
The dock wasn’t large. A few fishing boats were moored sporadically, and on the shore were several small convenience stores and boat repair shops.
The sun hung overhead, baking the deck until it was scorching.
As planned, Wan Ze and his two companions were to disembark here. They waved goodbye to Fang Hao.
Fang Hao stood at the bow, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He waved at them but didn’t disembark.
Zhai Jia was the one driving.
His hand rested on the steering wheel, his posture relaxed, but his eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror.
Miss Ling sat in the back, leaning against the window. She looked as if she hadn’t slept well; her eyes were closed, her lashes occasionally fluttering. It was impossible to tell if she was truly asleep or just feigning it.
Zhai Jia glanced at her in the rearview mirror, then at Wan Ze in the passenger seat.
He remembered seeing Wan Ze sneaking out of Miss Ling’s room in the middle of the night, and he hesitated, wanting to say something but holding back.
He glanced again.
But still said nothing.
They drove until they reached the borders of the Holy City and familiar shop signs started to appear. Zhai Jia finally cleared his throat, changing the subject. "Where to, Miss Ling?"
The person in the back opened her eyes, her voice soft and laced with fatigue. "The guesthouse... Thank you."
Zhai Jia nodded, then couldn’t resist looking at Wan Ze again.
His expression was a mixture of worldly experience and unspoken words. He coughed lightly. "What about you, Ah Ze? Are you heading to the dojo too?"
"I am," Wan Ze answered decisively, then asked, "Aren’t you going, Brother Jia?"
He had spent the last two days on the boat engrossed in his Cultivation of the Taiyin Breathing Technique. His Breathing exercises hadn’t stopped, but his martial arts skills had been neglected.
Since it was still early, it was a good time to go to the dojo to train and adapt to his new physical condition.
He felt his body had changed considerably since his Magic Sense improved, and he needed some hands-on practice to get a proper feel for it.
Zhai Jia, however, read too much into it.
The corner of his mouth twitched. He glanced at the back seat in the rearview mirror again and lowered his voice. "I won’t disturb you two."
He paused for a moment before speaking again at a normal volume.
"By the way, Ah Ze, don’t tell Master about what happened in Hua City. It’ll just give him another reason to lecture us."
Wan Ze nodded.
The incident in Hua City was indeed difficult to talk about.
The business with the Qi Refiners was even more unspeakable.
In the past, whenever he brought up such things, his master would frown and wave him off, telling him not to get lost in wild fantasies. The old man had practiced martial arts his whole life and only believed in what his fists could accomplish.
As for the Taiyin Breathing Technique...
It was the Cultivation Technique left behind by Tao Zhixi.
By rashly practicing it, he had already broken a major taboo.
If word got out, never mind Tao Zhixi herself, the people behind her would be enough to cause him a world of trouble.
Besides...
’What if Tao Zhixi isn’t dead?’
Even Jiao Yuheng could fake his death; this Qi Refiner would have every reason to do the same.
The thought surfaced in Wan Ze’s mind as he watched the streetscape flash past the car window.
’If she’s not dead, and she finds out I not only secretly learned her Breathing Technique but also presumptuously passed it to Master and my brothers... will she come straight for my head?’
Wan Ze rubbed the bridge of his nose.
’Whatever. I’ll just lay low for now.’
’Once I figure out the rules of that other world and have the strength to protect myself, it won’t be too late to bring Master and the others up with me.’
’Telling them now would just be inviting disaster upon them.’
’The road ahead is long. Life and death are up to fate.’
He thought this to himself, unsure if the words were for his own benefit or for someone else’s.
Zhai Jia glanced at him in the rearview mirror.
The car turned into an alley and stopped in front of the guesthouse.
The three of them parted ways.
...
THUD!
THUD!
More than a dozen sandbags hung there. The large ones weighed eight hundred pounds, the small ones at least five hundred.
Wan Ze flexed his wrists, took a deep breath, and made his move.
His first punch landed on the nearest sandbag.
With a muffled THUD, the sandbag swung away. Before it could swing back, he had already flashed in front of the second one.
Fists, elbows, knees, legs.
There were no forms, only pure instinct.
He held back with each strike, controlling his Strength to sixty or seventy percent, but his speed grew ever faster.
The sandbags began to fly.
One after another, they were sent flying like leaves caught in a gale, carving arcs through the air.
Wan Ze’s figure weaved between them, moving so fast his form became a blur. All one could catch was the occasional flash of a shoulder or the shadow of a leg.
He closed his eyes.
He judged the sandbags’ positions by sound, perceiving their trajectories from the currents of air.
His body moved faster than his mind could think. With every punch Wan Ze threw, he could feel the Power surge from his core, travel up his spine to his shoulders, and then explode from his fist.
A five-hundred-pound sandbag, sent flying with a single punch.
An eight-hundred-pound one, also with a single punch.
After an unknown amount of time... SWISH!
Wan Ze’s figure came to a sudden halt.
He stood in the center of the training area, holding a fist-retracting pose. His breathing was even, while the dozen or so sandbags around him were still swinging back and forth.
’That’s about right.’
Wan Ze turned.
And left.
Just as he finished changing and walked out the dojo’s main entrance, a series of muffled bangs echoed from behind him.
BANG—BANG—BANG—BANG—
About three to five seconds later, all the sandbags—both the five-hundred and eight-hundred-pound ones—burst open at their centers.
Fine sand poured out, forming small mounds on the ground.
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