Chapter 184: Touching Your Warmth

After hastily bandaging his wounds, Mu Feng declined the Black-clad Woman Murong Xue’s offer for him to stay. He left the valley alone before dark.

Compared to when he had arrived, there were three Yang Soul Pills, said to be able to revive the dead, inside the Breeze Ring on his finger. But beside him, he no longer had the thoughtful book companion.

Recalling Jing Wushuang’s voice and smile, remembering the shared hardships and little moments along their journey, Mu Feng felt an emptiness in his heart. It was as if he had lost something most important in his life. Standing on a high mountain peak, he looked back at the vague outline of the valley now shrouded in night. After a moment of silence, he turned and left.

Studying literature makes one understand principles; training in martial arts strengthens the body!

Mu Feng silently recited his mother’s advice as he walked. His blood churned inside him, but his face grew colder.

No matter how learned, no matter how well one understood principles, no matter how strong the body, what use was it if one’s skills were inferior? What could a mere mouth and brute strength accomplish?

This was a world where the strong preyed on the weak. Power was everything!

Once again, Mu Feng deeply felt the importance and necessity of power. Now, for him, the greatest purpose of cultivation was to reach the Cultivation Peak!

Without formidable strength, everything was like floating clouds in the sky—one moment grasped in hand, the next perhaps gone in the blink of an eye!

“Born a shaman, one must strive ceaselessly, stand firm between heaven and earth. Embarking on the Way Through Slaughter, Carrying the Dao via Blood…”

Mu Feng silently recited the Shamanic Incantation, examining and organizing his cultivation techniques. He walked faster and faster. In the blink of an eye, he became a small black dot, disappearing into the vast Forest Sea.

When he entered the mountains, he had to search everywhere for the Poison Sect’s gate and was accompanied by the still-injured Jing Wushuang, so his pace was slow. On the way out, alone, his speed was much faster. A day later, before the sun had even set, Mu Feng returned to the towering Cangjian Peak.

At the desolate, windswept mountain foot, the simple Hidden Sword Inn had long been reduced to ashes. The cold wind from the mountains blew, occasionally stirring up clouds of dust. It was barren and deserted, looking especially bleak and cold. Strangely, right there in the bleak, cold wind, a Carriage stood quietly beside the ruins, motionless, as if waiting for something.

The Immortal Sword Sect, or the Blind Master’s spies?

Mu Feng was startled, then a surge of killing intent swelled within him, his will to fight surging.

Since returning from the Poison Sect, waves of violent, brutal energy often rose in his heart. He craved slaughter, thirsted to drink the blood of his enemies. Now, encountering people from the Immortal Sword Sect or the Blind Master was perfect. He could unleash carnage, kill without mercy!

Clang…

Mu Feng drew the long sword hanging at his waist. Without any concealment, he charged straight down the mountain.

When he had come, he was cautious, disguised, afraid of accidentally revealing his tracks. Now, he had no such concerns. In fact, he wished he could draw all the people from the Immortal Sword Sect and the Blind Master here, to crush and kill them all!

Mu Feng was brimming with murderous aura, but when he rushed to the mountain foot, he was greatly disappointed.

The Carriage was empty, no one inside, and there were no ambushes around. Only a silent, low-profile coachman sat in front. He wore a Large Bamboo Hat and black clothes, sitting quietly and motionless. It was clearly the very coachman who had driven him and Jing Wushuang all the way to the Plum Blossom Manor. Even the Carriage and the horse pulling it were largely unchanged. The damaged Carriage, after repairs, looked almost identical to the original.

“Young Master Mu Feng, Fourth Lady Mei sent me here to fetch you!”

The coachman’s slightly hoarse voice came through. His attitude was, as ever, extremely respectful, but he was terse. After that simple sentence, he tightly shut his mouth. Ask him three questions and he wouldn’t know any answers; he could go three days without saying a word. Those who didn’t know might think he was a born mute.

Fourth Lady Mei?

In Mu Feng’s mind, the image of a beautiful middle-aged woman, still charming, appeared. He remembered the ever-smiling Feng Qianjin and the righteous, heroic Flying Sky Bat. He wondered how they had been lately.

“Let’s go, first to Jianshui City!”

Mu Feng stepped into the Carriage and gave the order.

As soon as he stepped into the familiar Carriage, he habitually lifted the curtain. Turning around, he realized that Jing Wushuang, who had always quietly accompanied him and loved watching the scenery outside, was no longer there.

After going through numerous hardships, the Carriage was still here, but the beautiful companion was gone. From now on, they were at opposite ends of the earth, separated by vast distances.

After sitting cross-legged inside the Carriage, Mu Feng suddenly felt the compartment was uneven. From under the soft blanket, he pulled out an ancient book. On the cover, the words ‘Past and Present Lives’ were particularly eye-catching.

Life is the continuation of death;

Death is the beginning of life.

In the Great Thousand World, regardless of you or me, there is life, and there is death.

A past life is a memory;

This life is an illusory dream;

…

After softly reading a few lines upon opening the ancient book, Mu Feng suddenly felt his nose sting. He carefully, gently turned the pages. Not to study this ancient musical score in detail, but to touch the fingerprints Jing Wushuang had left on this book, to breathe in the scent she had left behind.

All along, Jing Wushuang had been unwilling to accept that this ancient musical score was just a score. She felt it must contain some cultivation technique or secret. When they traveled from afar, from Jianning City, she would often hold it in the Carriage, turning the pages over and over, tirelessly reading it again and again.

Given her indifferent attitude towards fame and fortune, her contentment with a simple life, she wouldn’t truly be that interested in some supposed cultivation technique or secret. The reason she read it over and over, Mu Feng knew, was entirely for his sake—the thoughtful Shuang’er was doing it all for him.

“Shuang’er, wait for me. One day, I will return!”

As the Carriage gradually moved away, Mu Feng looked back at the towering Cangjian Peak and clenched his fist tightly.

The path of cultivation was like sailing against the current; it got harder and harder.

Right now, he had only just recently broken through to the Mortal Realm Peak. Never mind the immensely powerful True Human Realm, he didn’t even know when he would break through to the Elite Realm. But no matter how difficult, he would never give up. He looked forward to the moment he broke through to the True Human Realm, he dreamed of the day he would return to the Poison Sect!

“A past life is a memory; this life is an illusory dream… Shuang’er, was our meeting also an illusory dream in this life?”

Mu Feng put away the ancient musical score. He didn’t place it in the Breeze Ring on his finger, but kept it close to his body.

Along the way, after so many trials and hardships, his robes had been changed one after another, his pack was gone, many of the little trinkets he carried were lost who knows where. Now, this ancient musical score could be said to be the only memento Jing Wushuang had left him.

Keeping this score close to his body felt as if Jing Wushuang was still there, disguised as a book companion quietly following beside him. He could always touch her presence, feel her warmth.

Although this Carriage had been badly damaged at the Plum Blossom Manor, after repairs it seemed even sturdier. It traveled swiftly and steadily. Two days later, Mu Feng rode the Carriage back to the weathered Jianshui City. He instructed the coachman to wait outside the city. Donning a wide Bamboo Hat and disguising himself, he walked toward the city gate.