In just over twenty days, Yang Cheng felt that his gains surpassed what he would've achieved through twenty years, even two hundred years, of normal cultivation.
If Li Xiang hadn't taken him on this journey, even five hundred years later, he might never have resolved the disharmony within himself, never reconciled the two souls that spanned his lives.
Now, at last, the two souls—past and present—had completely fused into one.
Beside him, Li Xiang smiled in quiet satisfaction.
Finally, after twenty-seven days, they reached the end of the desert.
It turned out that this endless sea of sand did have a boundary.
At its edge stood a sheer cliff, and beyond it stretched an abyss of absolute darkness.
From that black void, countless snowflakes surged forth, swept up in violent gales, forming a breathtaking sight where the desert's sands and a frozen plain collided in one vast, chaotic beauty.
And there, at the brink of the cliff, stood a frail, thin old man.
The wind and snow lashed at his hair and robes, sending them streaming behind him, yet he stood there unmoving—like a statue carved from time itself.
"Brother Huang," Li Xiang called out.
The skeletal old man stirred as if awakening from deep slumber.
He drew out a long flute.
At first, the melody was soft, low, vast, and desolate—echoing with the sound of endless years.
But as moments passed, his chest swelled, and beneath his robe, strange bulges appeared—like countless pythons coiling and twisting within him.
That was no illusion. It was a profound method of true qi circulation—so intricate that each breath carried immense power.
In the next instant, the flute's tone surged—no longer quiet and mournful but bold and magnificent, like an army galloping across the desert.
At the flute's end, streams of air burst forth, condensing into the shape of a dragon that roared and twisted in the storm.
At that moment, the might of this single frail old man actually suppressed the boundless blizzard and raging sandstorm around him.
Yang Cheng closed his eyes, letting his consciousness sink into the rhythm of the old man's breathing and the rise and fall of the melody.
The sound of the flute was ancient and distant, yet steady and clear.
Gradually, his thoughts quieted. He focused wholly on the breath, the pulse of power beneath the sound, until even his awareness of the outside world faded away.
Inside his mind, he began to trace the old man's every breath, every flow of qi, every pulse of vitality within the melody.
Without even realizing it, Yang Cheng started imitating the same breathing rhythm himself.
This wasn't a mere breathing method—it was an entire breathing system, a foundation upon which any breathing art could be built.
He didn't know how long he had been immersed in it when silence suddenly returned.
When he opened his eyes, both Li Xiang and the old man were staring at him.
"Did you break through?" the old man asked.
Yang Cheng shook his head. "Not quite. I only advanced from the Ninth Level of Martial Saint to the Half-Step Martial Sovereign. I didn't truly break the barrier."
The old man's eyes widened slightly. "A twelve-year-old Half-Step Martial Sovereign? Li Xiang, where in the world did you find this little monster?"
Li Xiang grinned. "Picked him up by the roadside. He's one of those 'born knowing' types. Calling him a natural-born sage might be an exaggeration, but calling him a prodigy would be an understatement. At twelve, his mastery in the Alchemy already surpasses mine."
The old man's expression shifted from surprise to awe. "No wonder he learned my Dragon Python Breathing Style in just a few moments."
Li Xiang laughed. "Virtuous Brother, you've hit the jackpot. The Dragon Python Breathing Style was something Brother Huang created after following a heavenly python for one hundred years and a true dragon for another one hundred years. It's one of the most refined breathing systems in existence."
Yang Cheng bowed deeply toward the old man. "Thank you, Senior, for your guidance."
The old man waved dismissively. "If Li Xiang calls you Virtuous Brother, how could I accept being called your senior? And if what he says is true, your future achievements are boundless. Who knows—someday, we might be the ones coming to seek your help."
None of the three were people of false humility, so they all burst into hearty laughter.
Then, right there at the border of storm and snow, they sat down together.
The frail old man took out divine beast meat he had kept in storage. Li Xiang uncorked a jug of his treasured wine.
Yang Cheng thought for a moment, then released his Black and White True Fire, using the strange flame to roast the meat.
And so, the three of them—one young prodigy and two old masters—sat in the heart of the storm, eating great chunks of meat, drinking in great gulps of wine, and laughing freely beneath heaven's endless sky.
"Virtuous Brother, that strange flame of yours is truly extraordinary," Li Xiang said with admiration.
Yang Cheng smiled. "Just a stroke of luck. It's a fusion of the Samadhi True Fire and the Starfall Iceflame."
To him, the Black and White True Fire wasn't some secret trump card—it was merely one of many tools he possessed.
But in the eyes of Li Xiang and the frail old man, that flame was already an ultimate treasure.
The fact that Yang Cheng spoke of it so openly showed his straightforward nature and deep trust in them.
That honesty only made both men respect him even more.
Li Xiang said, "I know the Starfall Iceflame. It once belonged to Gu Chen, a genius in the Alchemy. He was hunted down by the Pill God Hall because of that very flame and was eventually killed. I never thought he'd die here in the Wasteland Realm."
"Virtuous Brother Yang," the frail old man said seriously, "it's fine to tell us this, but make sure you never mention it to anyone else. If the Pill God Hall catches wind of this, it'll bring you endless trouble."
The three of them spoke freely now, no longer holding back.
Yang Cheng soon learned that the frail old man's name was Huang Gang—a name that sounded quite plain, almost rustic.
But in reality, Huang Gang was a formidable figure—the combat pillar of the Myriad Phenomena Dao Academy, a semi-divine powerhouse.
He had once reached the Refining God Realm, but after suffering a serious injury, he had fallen below the divine threshold.
Li Xiang sighed. "Brother Huang's martial talent is terrifying. Among all of us, he's the one with the greatest hope of returning to the Divine Realm."
"Not 'hope,'" Huang Gang corrected him calmly. "It's a certainty. As long as I decide to, I can return to the Divine Realm at any time. I just feel like… I'm still missing something."
"You can return even after falling from the Divine Realm?" Yang Cheng asked, astonished.
"Normally, that's impossible," Li Xiang explained. "But Brother Huang isn't an ordinary man. To put it simply, his martial aptitude was once considered trash-level, yet he broke every rule, forcing his way step by step into the Refining God Realm."
Yang Cheng couldn't help but look at Huang Gang with genuine respect.
"Hahaha! This 'trash' of yours first met you, a genius like Li Xiang, and now I've met a natural-born freak who surpasses geniuses themselves. Isn't that amusing?"
Huang Gang laughed loudly, and the other two joined in, their laughter echoing across the windswept wasteland.
Then Huang Gang turned to Li Xiang. "By the way, Brother Li, isn't the Myriad Phenomena Dao Academy still looking for a location? Since Virtuous Brother Yang here is the Crown Prince of Great Zhou, I say we stop searching. Let's just set it in Great Zhou."
"That makes perfect sense," Li Xiang said with a nod.
Just like that, the two made the decision without hesitation—one simple sentence determining the academy's foundation for the ages to come.
Yang Cheng's gaze shifted toward the dark void beyond the cliff. "What's that place ahead?"
If he hadn't come here with Li Xiang, he might never have known that such a strange and dangerous place existed in the Wasteland Realm.
"That," Li Xiang said slowly, "is the Ruins of Embers."
He continued, "In the ancient era, during the Infinite Calamity, it was the Dao Ancestor of Great Divination who intervened and sealed the calamity within the endless ruins. To the ignorant, the Wasteland Realm seems like a dead, forsaken world. But those who truly understand know this—the real essence of the Dao lies hidden within this land."
"One day, the great powers of the myriad worlds will all descend upon the Wasteland Realm."
Yang Cheng's breathing grew slightly tense.
Li Xiang smiled reassuringly. "Virtuous Brother, there's no need to dwell on it. Even if that day comes, it'll be in a time far beyond our reach. By then, with your talent, you'll have long since grown strong enough to face any storm."
After drinking their fill and eating their fill, the three finally parted ways.
Li Xiang went off to continue searching for more Ancient Cistanche, while Huang Gang went to seek the missing piece that still eluded his martial heart.
Yang Cheng, on the other hand, headed toward Qilin Volcano.
Strictly speaking, since the Myriad Phenomena Dao Academy was now set to be established in Great Zhou, he didn't need to go there anymore.
But he still wanted to see it for himself.
Because if his calculations were right, he would soon encounter a certain genius from the Western Luo Empire.
The Western Luo Martial Dao prodigy Mo Jialan had already been slain by his hand.
But aside from Mo Jialan, Western Luo had another genius—Anande, An Alchemy prodigy who, in the original future, stood shoulder to shoulder with Zuo Qiuming in the Alchemy Path of the Wasteland Realm.