Nothing could truly hide the traces of a battle.
Cracked ground would remain cracked until someone patched it. Merchants who closed their stalls early would still remember why. And the people who witnessed it would keep talking about it—in the corners of teahouses, in front of their houses, at the morning market where their hands were busy bargaining but their mouths were even busier telling stories.
Li Wuchen's name was no longer just whispered.
It had become open conversation.
Wuchen realized this when he walked to the morning market to buy additional herbal medicine for his shoulder. People glanced at him. Some gave small nods—not out of familiarity, but out of acknowledgment. Like the way people recognize the existence of something they had previously overlooked.
He didn't like this kind of attention. Too many eyes meant too much surveillance. The result? Too much information about him would leak to places it shouldn't.
Still, he knew there was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do was move faster than the consequences. Keep growing stronger.
*****
He returned to the inn with a handful of herbs and two packets of street food. The old man hadn't come down from his room yet. His snoring could still be heard from the ground floor, even though the sun was already quite high.
Wuchen placed the food on the table. Then he sat down and began preparing the herbs using the method his master had taught him. No special tools were needed—just hot water and the correct mixing technique.
His hands moved methodically.
But his mind was elsewhere. Wuchen remembered the person who had spied on his fight against Wei Si the Iron Hand. The figure he had only caught a glimpse of on the rooftop. Yes. Just a glimpse.
Wuchen had long trained every part of his body. As someone with no talent for inner energy, he had to force every limb to perform far beyond normal standards—including his eyes. That was why, even though it was only for a split second, he had managed to capture a few details of the spy.
The person had white hair. Black clothes with no markings. They possessed the ability to vanish silently from a four-story height, showing the depth and height of their martial arts. Even more suspicious was his master's reaction. The old man was usually indifferent to everything. To him, the world was just an amusing playground. Almost nothing could make him act seriously. But that time, when it came to the spy, Wuchen could feel that his master's tone had become very… heavy.
That single word was enough for Wuchen to understand that if the mysterious figure became a threat in the future, it would be no ordinary threat. Nor was it someone who could be ignored.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs ended his thoughts.
The old man came down with hair even messier than usual and the expression of someone who had just enjoyed a very satisfying sleep. He saw the food on the table, then looked at Wuchen, then back at the food.
"You bought breakfast?" he said, sitting down immediately.
"Yes."
"Where did you get the money?" the old man asked suspiciously.
"I sold one of my spare belts to a second-hand merchant earlier."
The old man paused for a moment, then started eating without further comment. Something that rarely happened.
Wuchen watched him. "Old Man."
"What?"
Wuchen cleared his throat slightly. "About the person on the roof yesterday. Is there something I should know?"
The old man's hand stopped briefly over his bowl. Just for a moment. Then it moved again as if nothing had happened.
"Eat first, then talk."
"I've already eaten," Wuchen replied.
"Then stay quiet while I eat. Don't disturb me. Don't you have any manners?"
Wuchen didn't answer and simply stared at the old man in front of him. Usually this guy always bothered him while he was eating. Why was he acting so strangely now? Ah, whatever.
Wuchen decided to wait.
*****
It was truly a miracle!
The old man, who was usually sloppy and greedy when eating, this morning actually showed proper etiquette and took his time. Not only that, he even brewed tea, waited until it was just the right warmth, and drank it sip by sip with long pauses.
Wuchen waited patiently. After the time it took to burn two incense sticks, the old man finally finished his tea. He drank the last drop, slowly placed the cup on the table, and only then leaned back in his chair.
"His name is Bai Wuji," he said at last.
Two words. Spoken without drama. Yet there was a weight behind them that Wuchen could not ignore.
"Who is he?"
The old man stared at the ceiling. His expression was unreadable—a mix of something like nostalgia and something closer to caution.
"Back then… the two of us were called two sides of the same coin." He spoke slowly, with a rhythm different from his usual speech. More structured. More careful. "I chose the free path. He chose another."
"What path?" Wuchen asked.
"The path that requires him to stand above all others."
Wuchen frowned. "He wants to rule the martial world?"
The old man snorted. "Not rule. That word is too crude for Bai Wuji. He calls it… regulating. Making sure everything runs the way he thinks is best."
"And according to him, the best way is the one he decides himself." Wuchen made an early conclusion.
"Exactly." The old man glanced at him. "You catch on quickly."
"It's not hard to understand. Isn't that how all those who hold the status quo think?" Wuchen wore a cynical expression as he said it.
The old man fell silent again. This time longer.
"Bai Wuji is not an evil person," he said finally. "That's what makes him dangerous. Evil people can be opposed with moral arguments. People who truly believe what they're doing is for the greater good… are much harder to deal with."
Wuchen pondered that. "And he watched me fight yesterday."
"Yes," the old man replied.
"What does that mean?" Wuchen asked again.
The old man didn't answer immediately. He looked out the window. Outside, Yellow City continued pulsing as usual, indifferent to the conversation happening inside this simple inn room.
"It means," he said at last, "the plan I had for this journey needs to be accelerated a little."
*****
Before Wuchen could ask more about the plan, there was a knock on their door.
Three times. Heavy. Evenly spaced.
The old man and Wuchen exchanged glances.
"Come in," the old man said.
The door opened. Chen Baoli stood at the threshold wearing the same gray clothes as when they first met; as if the man only owned one set of clothing and saw no need to change it.
He glanced around the room briefly. His expression was the same as always: flat, without judgment.
"I heard about yesterday," he said.
"That was fast," the old man commented.
"Small city." Chen Baoli entered and sat in the empty chair without being invited; the attitude of someone who had long stopped caring about social formalities. "Wuchen, I heard you faced Wei Si the Iron Hand."
"Yes," Wuchen said.
"You disrupted his Nuraga flow at the neck point?" Chen Baoli asked again.
"Yes."
"That technique…" Chen Baoli looked at him. "…did you discover it yourself?"
"No. And yes," Wuchen answered. "The inspiration came from what you showed me when you destroyed the wooden pillar. I only tried to apply the same principle."
Chen Baoli was silent for a few moments. He looked at his own hand—the hand that had shattered a thick wooden pillar with a single strike two days ago.
"That's not something you should have been able to figure out so quickly," he said softly. Not a criticism. More like a statement he himself was still processing.
"Is that a problem?" Wuchen asked, worried.
"No." Chen Baoli lifted his head. "But it means I misjudged the scale of your progress."
The old man in the corner drank the leftover breakfast tea with satisfaction. "Told you so."
Chen Baoli ignored him. His eyes remained on Wuchen.
"There's something I want to tell you. And I think now is the time."
*****
Chen Baoli took a deep breath. It seemed he was preparing words he had kept for a long time.
"The physical path you're walking," he began, "is not a new path. Long ago, before the Nuraga system dominated, there were martial artists who achieved extraordinary power purely through their bodies. They were called by various names: Steel Body, Immortal Physique, Earth Conqueror."
Wuchen listened silently.
"However, over time, that path gradually disappeared. Not because it was ineffective, but because the knowledge wasn't passed down properly. Each generation lost a little. Until finally, all that remained were fragments of incomplete techniques without context or harsh training without clear purpose."
"Like what I went through in the mountains," Wuchen said.
"Yes. Your master preserved most of those fragments. But even he doesn't have the complete picture." Chen Baoli glanced at the old man. "I'm right, aren't I?"
The old man didn't answer. But he didn't deny it either.
"What's interesting," Chen Baoli continued, "is that you seem to instinctively fill in those missing gaps yourself. The penetration technique you used on Wei yesterday—it's not a technique recorded in any notes I know. You created it from basic principles."
Wuchen pondered that. "Then there are likely many other gaps that haven't been filled."
"Many," Chen Baoli said. "And some of them you probably can't fill on your own. You won't have enough time."
A brief silence.
"Is there another way?" Wuchen asked.
Chen Baoli looked at him. "There is. But I'm afraid the path will make you uncomfortable."
Wuchen shrugged. "To be honest, comfortable things have never helped me before."
For the first time since entering the room, Chen Baoli smiled. Very faintly. Almost imperceptible.
"Good. Then listen."
*****
"Southwest of Yellow City, there is a place called Dragon Bone Valley," Chen Baoli said.
"The name sounds very dramatic. But it's actually just a series of rock formations that resemble a dragon's spine when viewed from above."
"I've heard the name," the old man said. "But I've never been there."
"Most people haven't. It's far and the road isn't easy." Chen Baoli folded his arms across his chest. "However, inside that valley, there is something that has long been a puzzle among physical-path martial artists."
"What?" Wuchen asked.
"Stone carvings," Chen Baoli answered firmly.
A short silence.
"Stone carvings," Wuchen repeated flatly.
"It may not sound impressive," Chen Baoli said. "But these carvings are not ordinary. Based on fragments of old records I've studied, the carvings in Dragon Bone Valley are part of a lost physical-path training system. Like… a manual carved into stone because the author didn't trust paper to last long enough."
The old man snorted softly. "Or because the writer couldn't read or write."
"That's also possible," Chen Baoli admitted without humor. "But regardless of the reason, if the carvings are genuine and match the existing records, then there are pieces of knowledge there that cannot be found anywhere else."
Wuchen looked at Chen Baoli. "Have you been there?"
"Not yet. I am a Nuraga user. The carvings won't be very useful to me. But for you…"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
Wuchen turned to his master. "Old Man. What do you think?"
The old man was already leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head, looking deep in thought.
"Dragon Bone Valley," he muttered. "I've heard the name from my own masters. They said the place exists. But they also said the road there isn't easy."
"How difficult?" Wuchen asked.
"Three days of walking through unfriendly terrain. And there are said to be fierce beasts that claim the area as their territory."
Wuchen nodded slowly. "Great! This will be both a journey and training."
The old man glanced at him. "You're too optimistic!"
Wuchen smirked. "I once lived in the mountains with a black bear for three years."
The old man immediately flicked Wuchen's forehead. Not hard, but enough to make the boy wince. "That bear wasn't as fierce as the beasts in Dragon Bone Valley."
"How fierce?" Wuchen asked while rubbing his sore forehead.
The old man opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then said, "You'll find out yourself later."
Wuchen looked at Chen Baoli. "When do we leave?"
Chen Baoli looked slightly surprised. "We?"
Wuchen smiled. "Of course. I don't know the way."
"I didn't say I was coming," Chen Baoli protested.
"Then why did you come here to tell me in person?" Wuchen said flatly. "If you didn't intend to join, you could have just sent someone to deliver the news."
Silence.
Chen Baoli stared at him for quite a while. Then he turned to the old man.
"Is he always like this?"
"Since day one. That's why I've been feeling older lately," the old man replied, completely unsurprised.
*****
In the end, the three of them agreed to depart the next day before dawn. The remaining time that day was used by Wuchen to prepare for the journey—something that didn't take much, since he had never been used to carrying extra belongings.
Herbal medicine for his shoulder. Dry food rations for three days. Extra rope. A small knife that was more useful for practical purposes than fighting.
That was all.
Chen Baoli excused himself to prepare his own things and promised to return before dawn. The old man disappeared somewhere. He left without explanation as usual, only waving his hand as he walked out.
Wuchen was left sitting alone on the inn's terrace. The evening wind blew, carrying thin dust and the aroma of fried food from the neighboring stall. The sky was already changing color, deep blue turning to orange in the west.
"Where are you going?"
The voice came from the side. Wuchen turned his head.
Lin Xue'er stood there. He didn't know since when. The way she appeared almost without sound was no longer surprising to Wuchen. It seemed this girl had a natural ability to be in a place without being detected until she chose to speak.
"To the southwest," Wuchen answered.
"Where exactly?" Lin Xue'er pressed.
"West, but a bit to the left," Wuchen replied vaguely.
"Isn't it Dragon Bone Valley?" Lin Xue'er asked flatly.
Wuchen was startled. "How did you know?"
Realizing he had slipped up, Li Wuchen reflexively covered his mouth.
"So it's true," Lin Xue'er said with a half-laugh.
Li Wuchen put on a sullen face. "You know that place?"
"I know many places." Lin Xue'er sat on the bench across from him without waiting to be invited. Just like Chen Baoli. Wuchen was starting to suspect this was a common attitude among martial artists who were too strong to care about etiquette.
"Why are you going there?" Lin Xue'er asked.
Wuchen cleared his throat before answering, "Consider it training, and also… um… there's something I want to see."
"You want to see the stone carvings?"
Once again Wuchen stared at her. He looked the girl up and down. He was at a loss for words.
"Hey, watch your eyes! It's rude to stare at a girl like that!" Lin Xue'er put on an angry face.
"S-sorry," Wuchen's face turned red.
Lin Xue'er snorted and flicked her long hair once. Then she said, "Purple Cloud Sect has quite complete archives. Including records about places related to ancient physical paths."
"Why does your sect keep those records? Aren't they useless for you Nuraga experts?" Wuchen asked.
Lin Xue'er was silent for a moment. "Because knowing something, even if you can't use it, is better than not knowing at all."
Wuchen nodded. He understood that logic.
They sat in silence for a while. On the street, a street vendor pushed his cart while shouting offers of food. Two small children ran past them, bumped into the cart, and were immediately scolded by the vendor, who seemed very familiar with such incidents.
"Do you know Bai Wuji?" Lin Xue'er asked suddenly.
Wuchen turned quickly. "You know about him too?"
"Everyone at a certain level knows about Bai Wuji." Lin Xue'er's tone changed slightly—more careful, more measured. "He is not someone whose name can be spoken lightly. In our sect, even the seniors speak about him in lowered voices."
"That strong?"
"It's not just about strength." Lin Xue'er finally looked at Wuchen. Her eyes were serious in a way she rarely showed. "Bai Wuji's understanding of Nuraga has surpassed what the current system considers possible. Rumor has it he is no longer bound by Level restrictions. Even a Grandmaster cannot easily measure the depth of his Nuraga."
Wuchen absorbed the information. "And he watched me fight yesterday."
"And he recognized your master," Lin Xue'er added softly. "That's the more important part."
Wuchen looked into the distance. Remembering how the old man had fallen silent when asked about the figure on the roof. Heavy. A word he had never heard before in his master's voice.
"What is their relationship?" Wuchen asked.
Lin Xue'er shook her head. "I don't know. It's not recorded in our sect's archives."
*****
"You came here just to tell me about Bai Wuji?" Wuchen asked.
Lin Xue'er didn't answer right away. She looked toward the sun sinking further in the west.
"Not only that," she said finally. "There's something you need to know before you go to Dragon Bone Valley."
Wuchen waited.
"That place is not only known to you, to Chen Baoli, or to the remaining physical-path martial artists." Lin Xue'er spoke carefully.
"The Heaven Iron Clan also knows. And for a long time, they have made access there difficult. Not because of the fierce beasts or the terrain, but because they don't want what's there to be discovered by someone who can actually use it."
Wuchen frowned. "They know about the carvings?"
"They know that something there has the potential to threaten the supremacy of the Nuraga path. I'm not sure about the specific details. But you've already made Wei the Iron Hand curious. And Wei the Iron Hand won't stay quiet."
"He will follow," Wuchen continued.
Lin Xue'er nodded. "Or send people to get there ahead of you."
Wuchen pondered that. Then he asked, "Why are you telling me all this?"
Lin Xue'er was silent for a moment. Longer this time—long enough that Wuchen wasn't sure the question would be answered.
But finally the girl spoke, her voice softer than usual,
"Because of what you're doing."
"What exactly am I doing?" Wuchen asked, pointing at himself.
"You stand outside the system and question boundaries that are considered absolute. That is something I believe should not be silenced. Especially since their reasons are probably not for balance, but for their own domination and interests."
Silence.
Wuchen stared at her for a long time.
"That's a more honest answer than I expected," he said finally.
Lin Xue'er shrugged slightly. "I'm just saying what I believe is true."
"Do you believe in the physical path?" Wuchen asked again.
"I believe in possibility." She stood up and straightened her clothes. "And you are a rather interesting possibility that I don't want to miss."
She turned to leave. But Wuchen said,
"Come with us."
Lin Xue'er stopped. "What? Where?"
Wuchen pointed toward the southwest. "To Dragon Bone Valley. Join us."
The girl turned to face him. Her expression was hard to read completely—something stirred beneath her calm surface.
"Why are you inviting me?" Lin Xue'er asked. For some reason, her heart beat faster. She wanted to know, yet also felt anxious about Li Wuchen's reason. What if Wuchen said it was because he felt comfortable around her? What answer should she give?
At this moment, Wuchen, hearing the question from Lin Xue'er, appeared to be scratching his non-itchy head.
"Because you asked why I'm inviting you, it would be rude if I didn't answer," he paused for a moment.
Li Wuchen coughed twice, cleared his throat once, then answered, "Because you know the terrain there. You have information we don't. And if the Heaven Iron Clan sends people, having one more person on our side will be very helpful, right?"
Lin Xue'er looked at Li Wuchen helplessly and said, "A very reasonable reason."
"I'm a pragmatic person." Li Wuchen praised himself while rubbing his nose.
Lin Xue'er stared at this blockhead who only knew how to train and train for a few moments. Then she looked away, toward the sky that was almost dark.
"When do we depart?"
"Before dawn."
"Okay." She started walking. "Don't be late."
"I'm the one who invited you. There's no way I'd be late," Wuchen protested.
"Whatever. I'm the one choosing to come. So I make the rules," the girl said as she walked away.
Wuchen watched her back disappear around the corner of the street. Then he let out a soft sigh.
From inside the inn, the old man's voice could be heard—he didn't know since when he had returned and was standing behind the door.
"Haha. Kid, you just invited trouble to travel with us."
Wuchen didn't answer. He simply stood up and went inside.
In his heart, he wasn't sure if the decision was right or not.
But he was sure that Lin Xue'er was not someone who gave information without reason. And that reason, sooner or later, would become clear on its own.
*****
That night, the lamp in the inn room stayed lit long after most people had gone to sleep.
The old man sat on the edge of his bed. An unusual posture. Usually he would lie down the moment he touched the bed. Tonight he sat, hands resting on his knees and eyes closed.
Wuchen sat in the chair in the corner of the room, pretending to check the equipment they would bring tomorrow. But he knew tonight was not a night for silence.
"Old Man," Wuchen said finally. "Tell me about Bai Wuji."
The old man didn't answer right away. He let out a long sigh—the sigh of someone deciding how much he wanted to share from something he had kept hidden for so long.
"Bai Wuji and I," he began at last, "once studied under the same master. An extraordinary old man who is no longer with us. We were his last two disciples."
Wuchen stayed quiet. Listening.
"We started the same way. Learned the same things. Trained side by side for many years." The old man's voice held no dramatic tone—he spoke like someone recounting facts, not memories. "But we drew different conclusions from the same teacher."
"What conclusions?"
"About the purpose of strength." The old man raised his gaze; not toward Wuchen, but toward the wall in front of him. As if there was something there only he could see.
"I believe strength is our own. We train, grow, and can go wherever the wind takes us. Free."
"And Bai Wuji?" Wuchen asked.
"Bai Wuji believes strength is a responsibility." The old man paused for a moment. "Someone strong enough has the obligation to use that strength to shape the world into something better. Of course, the definition of 'better' here is according to himself."
"And you parted ways because of that," Wuchen commented, nodding.
"Parted ways?" The old man repeated the words with a tone that wasn't entirely certain. "Yes. Parted ways is a polite enough word for what happened."
Wuchen didn't press further. He had been with the old man long enough to know the story had reached its limit for tonight.
"Is he dangerous to me?" Wuchen asked.
"I don't know." The old man answered honestly. "Bai Wuji isn't interested in small things. If he watched you yesterday and did nothing, it means he's evaluating. Whether you fit into his grand plan or not—that's what I can't answer yet."
"What grand plan?" Wuchen asked again.
The old man stood up. He walked to his bed with unusually heavy steps.
"That," he said as he lay down, "is the question that has kept me from sleeping well for twenty-three years."
He closed his eyes.
And that night, for the first time since Wuchen had known him, the old man did not snore.
*****
Dawn came quietly to Yellow City.
The sky was still black when Wuchen was already standing in front of the inn with his small backpack. The air was cold and slightly damp—the kind of air that only existed in the earliest hours, before human activity warmed the city.
Chen Baoli was already there.
The man stood with a backpack larger than Wuchen's, yet still simple, without ornaments, like everything about Chen Baoli. In his hand was a short iron staff that looked more like a walking aid than a weapon. Even so, Wuchen suspected it was not just a walking aid.
"On time," Chen Baoli said.
"You too," Wuchen replied.
They stood in comfortable silence. Waiting.
A few minutes later, footsteps sounded from inside the inn. It was the old man, coming down with a backpack—surprisingly—already neatly strapped to his back. His hair was still messy, but at least he was dressed.
"Where's the girl?" he asked while yawning.
"I'm here."
The voice came from the shadows at the corner of the street. Lin Xue'er stepped out of the darkness with a small backpack on her back and her hair neatly tied. Her clothes were different from usual—more practical, darker, more suitable for a long journey.
The old man looked at her. Then at Wuchen. "You invited her?"
"Yes," Wuchen answered.
"I don't approve," the old man said.
"I know," Wuchen replied.
"But I don't mind either," the old man added as he walked ahead. "The more people who can cook, the better."
Lin Xue'er looked at the old man's back with a complicated expression. The girl was wondering whether the old man was complimenting or insulting her.
Wuchen whispered softly, "Just take it as his own way of saying welcome."
"His way is very strange," Lin Xue'er commented.
Wuchen nodded quickly. "Everything about him is strange."
Lin Xue'er let out a short sigh. Then she stepped forward.
Chen Baoli had already walked ahead, heading southwest. The old man followed while muttering about how cold the morning was. Wuchen walked side by side with Lin Xue'er.
"How long will we stay there?" Lin Xue'er asked.
"Depends on what we find."
"And depends on whether the Heaven Iron Clan shows up or not," Lin Xue'er added.
"Yes. There are many uncertain factors in this journey," Wuchen said while clenching his fist.
Lin Xue'er looked straight ahead. "Are you not afraid?"
"Are you seriously asking that?"
"I'm asking. But actually I already know your answer," Lin Xue'er said casually.
Wuchen thought for a moment before replying. "Fear doesn't help much with preparation. So I'll save it for later, if the situation really requires it."
Lin Xue'er was silent for a while. Then she said softly, "That's a very cold way to deal with fear."
"My master taught me that."
Lin Xue'er looked at the old man's back. "Your master has taught you many unusual things."
"Yes." Wuchen looked at the old man's back walking ahead. "And I still don't know anything about him."
*****
They left Yellow City when the sky had just begun to change color—black turning to dark gray, the early morning that had not yet dared to call itself dawn.
The city gate, which during the day was crowded with lines of merchants and travelers, was now guarded only by two sleepy guards who didn't pay much attention to the four figures walking out under the last remaining stars.
Behind them, Yellow City slowly grew smaller.
Ahead, the dirt road not yet lit by the sun stretched toward the southwest.
And in a place none of the five of them could see—atop a roof inside the city, a white-haired figure stood. Gazing toward the southwest with unreadable eyes.
He did not move.
He only watched.
For quite a long time.
Then, slowly, he turned away. And whispered to the wind blowing around him, in a tone directed at no one—or perhaps at someone who no longer existed in this world.
"Your disciple is interesting too, Old Man."
"Let's see… how far he can go."
The wind carried those words in an undetermined direction.
Not long after, dawn finally arrived. It moved slowly, painting the sky above Yellow City with the first colors of a new day.
To be continued.