Chapter Fifty: Where in Life Is There Not Cultivation? (Please Recommend, Please Add to Favorites)

February 24, 2019

A small team was advancing through the vast mountains of Yundian. The region was known for its miasma and dampness, making their journey anything but smooth. They truly could say they were cutting through brambles and thorns along the way.

It had been easier when they first entered the mountains, but as they ventured deeper into the forest, Yang Fan and his companions encountered no shortage of troubles. The path was muddy and slippery, making progress difficult, especially for Yang Fan. The long blade he carried weighed nine hundred jin, and his own weight was nearly half a ton. Such heaviness pressed down on the muddy mountain paths, leaving Yang Fan with little cheer.

“Hold on, just a bit longer. We have about twenty more li before we reach the first water source,” Zhou Yiyi said, panting. Walking in the mountains for martial artists didn’t consume much energy, but the high altitude of Yundian still demanded some adaptation.

Yang Fan had no desire to speak. Every trip into the mountains had been fraught with difficulty—even though he’d only ventured inside twice. It didn’t make his mood any more pleasant. The uneven footing was simply maddening.

Mu Qingshan and the others wore troubled expressions as well. Seeing no one respond, Zhou Yiyi fell silent, focusing on the road ahead and glancing occasionally at her GPS to confirm their direction.

Twenty li in the mountains could not be compared to the plains; it took them three full hours to traverse the distance, and the sun was already sinking behind the western ridge when they finally reached their destination.

The water source was small—no more than five hundred square meters by Yang Fan’s estimation. Water bubbled up from an underground river, surfaced, then disappeared once more into the earth as it flowed away.

The group sat by the riverbank, washing away the grime accumulated from their trek through the jungle. Zhou Yiyi watched as Mu Qingshan, Yang Fan, and the others cleaned themselves, unsure what to do. She was uncomfortable, filthy herself, but sharing a pool with these men was more than she could manage.

Yang Fan washed himself quickly, then removed his boots to clean his feet. In these humid, misty regions, keeping one’s feet clean and dry was essential. Otherwise, even a martial artist would risk foot rot if his feet remained damp.

Yang Fan turned to the still-hesitant Zhou Yiyi, raising an amused eyebrow. Was this girl suddenly concerned about propriety in such a place? He called out, “Come wash up. At the very least, clean your feet. Who knows how far the next stretch will be. You wouldn’t want your feet to rot, would you? We’re all martial artists—there’s nothing to worry about.”

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yiyi didn’t hesitate further, sitting beside Yang Fan, removing her boots, and beginning to wash.

Yundian was famed for its innumerable mountains—said to be ten thousand in all! Searching for anything in this wilderness was impossible without precise coordinates; otherwise, luck was their only guide.

Over a hundred li away from Yang Fan’s group, a massive beast was feeding. The ground was littered with carnage, blood everywhere, and so many corpses that their species could no longer be distinguished.

The beast was five meters long and stood over two meters tall—a size comparable only to elephants among land mammals. Yet it was no elephant. It bore a single horn on its head, its body covered in white fur marked with stripes, and below the horn, a bold “King” character. It was a unicorn white tiger.

As the unicorn white tiger ate, it sniffed continuously, taking bites and shaking its head with satisfaction. Its eyes gleamed with intelligence—a clear sign that its spirit had awakened.

Since gaining intelligence, the unicorn white tiger had roamed the ten thousand mountains unchallenged. Once its horn grew in, its strength increased dramatically, and nothing in the surrounding region could threaten it. Here, it was king.

Yet, it had noticed its prey was growing scarce lately. Where once it could find meat with a few steps, now the wild animals seemed to have vanished. Finding this group of prey today had been no easy feat, making its meal all the more satisfying.

Back by the river, Yang Fan and the others finished cleaning and took out their dry rations. Even martial artists needed rest after such exertion. The group lounged by the water—some sitting, some lying down. Yang Fan wiped his long blade, shaking his head at their casualness deep in the mountains.

Zhou Yiyi stared at her GPS, frowning. The next water source was a hundred li away. Today’s trek had been difficult, and they’d only covered fifty li.

“Let’s rest for the night. When the sun rises tomorrow, we’ll push forward. Our next destination is over a hundred li away. Tomorrow, we must reach it in one go,” she said.

Mu Qingshan and the others looked troubled. Mountain paths were difficult, and a hundred li in a day could kill a man. Yet they couldn’t argue—if they didn’t reach the next water source, they’d be forced to camp out in the wilderness, a prospect too dire to contemplate.

Yang Fan felt helpless as he listened. There was no choice; many things in the mountains couldn’t be dictated by personal will, even for martial artists. Nature’s power was not something a mere second-rank could challenge. Anything could happen here. Water meant life, and resting near it was wisest—unless there was no alternative.

Yang Fan gazed at the calm surface of the water, lost in thought. As he watched, to the astonishment of the others, he suddenly leaped into the lake, blade in hand.

The weight of the alloy blade pulled him down. The lake was not deep—five or six meters at most—but the underground streams made the currents turbulent beneath the placid surface.

Yang Fan stood at the bottom, relying on the blade’s weight to keep his balance. Once steady, he remained on the lakebed. Xie Sihua soon joined him, swimming over to Yang Fan and gesturing wildly, but Yang Fan ignored him. After about five minutes, Yang Fan felt his breath running out. He threw the blade upward, then swam to the surface. Xie Sihua hurried after him, also out of breath.

The four on the shore paced back and forth, mystified by Yang Fan’s actions. Xie Sihua had gone down and not returned, and the others considered diving in after them. Just then, Yang Fan’s blade broke the surface, shooting upward, followed by Yang Fan and Xie Sihua’s heads as they gasped for air.

“Yang Fan, what are you doing?” Zhou Yiyi shouted.

“Nothing. You all rest. I’m training,” Yang Fan replied, watching the blade’s landing point as he spoke.

“Training? What kind of training is this?” Zhou Yiyi called back, incredulous. Was this man mad? Diving into the lake without a word, then claiming to be training?

Yang Fan, judging where the blade had fallen, swam over. The alloy blade sank quickly, but Yang Fan focused his qi and blood in his eyes, slowing everything down, and reached out to grab the hilt with precision.

Before grasping it, Yang Fan declared, “Where in life is there not training?”

Then, he took a breath, held it, and sank back to the lakebed with the blade.

On the surface, Xie Sihua and the others stared at each other, baffled by Yang Fan’s behavior.

“Xie Sihua, what’s he doing down there?” Mu Qingshan asked, as Xie Sihua floated nearby.

“He’s just standing there, not moving at all,” Xie Sihua replied as he swam toward shore.

“Standing? What’s he standing at the bottom for? Practicing how long he can hold his breath?” Jiang Xiaoyi asked, frowning.

Xie Sihua, now ashore, answered, “You ask me, who should I ask? Who knows what crazy idea he’s got?”

“Forget it, let him do what he wants. Tomorrow’s trek is a hundred li. If he wastes his energy like this, he’ll be the one crying tomorrow,” Zhou Yiyi said angrily, deciding not to bother with Yang Fan any further. This troublemaker was always up to something strange—he must be crazy.

Meanwhile, Yang Fan remained at the lakebed, standing with his blade, keeping his balance. When he felt his breath running out, he tossed the blade to the surface, surfaced for air, and repeated the process several times.

The five on shore ignored Yang Fan now, letting him do as he pleased, though none could guess what he was aiming for.

After the thirteenth breath, Yang Fan began to move, no longer just standing at the bottom. He started to wield the blade underwater. But it was hard to gain leverage in water; the blade was heavy, his balance insufficient, and the currents strong. As soon as he swung the blade, his stability was lost.

Yang Fan shook his head. “It’s still not working. Without reaching the empty stance of horse stance, it’s impossible to gain traction underwater. Holding steady is too difficult.” He thought to himself.

He had intended to practice with the blade underwater to master his strength. Recently, he’d used too many pills, and his cultivation had advanced quickly. But he lacked control over his power. Li Tian had suggested he take on missions and learn through combat, but Yang Fan preferred bullying those much weaker than himself, avoiding stronger opponents.

The feeling of power without control was unbearable to him, especially with the possibility of facing a beast at any time. Without full mastery, he feared disaster.

Staring at the lake earlier, he’d wondered if underwater training would help. Acting on impulse, he jumped in—but soon realized it wasn’t so simple.

The lake wasn’t deep enough; the water pressure wasn’t sufficient to challenge him, and the currents too strong. With only the solid stance of horse stance, Yang Fan couldn’t achieve the stability needed. Any movement instantly left him vulnerable to the swirling currents.

He shook his head underwater. The idea might have merit, but under these conditions, it was impossible to test.

He tossed the blade to the surface and swam up. The blade broke the water, and the others, having witnessed this many times, were no longer surprised.

But this time, Mu Qingshan’s expression changed as he watched the blade break the surface. He cursed loudly, and instantly retreated.