Chapter 809: The People of the Extreme North

The winding canyon resembled a wound on the ground, “crawling” like a centipede amidst the snow-covered landscape, where ancient ice never melted, reflecting a crystalline glow.

On the cliff to the left stood two figures. The leading one faced the sun, inhaling its rays, with faint flames flickering with each breath.

He looked young, around twenty years of age, his eyes carrying a hint of arrogance. Wearing a fur hat and a silver-white tight-fitting robe, his attire shimmered under the sunlight, as if stitched from countless scales. His aura flowed seamlessly through his body, connecting with the sun above and the boundless power deep underground, exuding an extraordinary presence.

Behind him stood a woman dressed in a red dress, refined in appearance, youthful and full of vitality.

“Senior brother, are you alright?” the woman in red asked with concern.

The young man’s eyes were slightly narrow, giving the impression of being perpetually half-closed. His other features were unremarkable, but linked together by his powerful aura and innate confidence, he exuded an indescribable charm that drew people’s attention.

At this moment, he smiled slightly and said, “Just a minor injury. It has already healed with the sunrise. The south indeed has many strong individuals. They didn’t disappoint me.”

The woman in red pouted slightly, “You didn’t say a word and dragged me southward. What exactly are you trying to do?”

Her senior brother, Chen Zhao, was an extraordinary genius from the extreme north, a rare talent who had achieved the rank of Grandmaster before the age of thirty. He practiced a martial arts technique that previous generations of the sect had deemed unsuitable for icy environments and thus abandoned. Since his ascension five years prior, he had challenged every Grandmaster in the land—except for a few ancient elders—and remained undefeated, becoming a source of immense pride for both the sect and her. His only flaw was his impulsiveness; he often acted on whims without informing his master, venturing deep into the heart of the extreme north and causing no small amount of worry.

This time was no exception. Shortly after she had completed a period of secluded cultivation and consolidated her cultivation at the External Manifestation level, she was hastily pulled south by her senior brother. A few days prior, they had encountered some fleeing Grandmasters and nearly found themselves surrounded. Fortunately, their opponents had no intention of prolonging the encounter or stirring up major trouble, and they quickly departed after a brief clash.

Chen Zhao still had his eyes half-closed as he inhaled the crisp, cool air lightly, speaking casually, “Can’t you tell? I’m taking you on a journey through the south, seeking strong opponents to challenge and refine myself.”

“A journey through the south, challenging powerful opponents?” The woman raised her delicate eyebrows, clearly surprised, “Senior Brother, that doesn’t seem right, does it?”

Since the chaos of the ancient demon-Buddha era, martial sects and families of the extreme north had rarely ventured south. They were too preoccupied with exploring the mysterious depths of the extreme north to bother with the outside world.

Of course, there were exceptions, but some had died during their journeys, while others returned deeply shaken, with few meeting good fates. Thus, from generation to generation, the south became increasingly demonized. Young people regarded it as something dangerous and dared not venture south. And when they finally gained strength and became formidable, they had already lost their youthful vigor and preferred to explore the extreme north or remain to guard their sect rather than recklessly involve themselves elsewhere.

Chen Zhao sneered slightly, “What’s wrong with it? What’s so great about staying confined like the old men? In our extreme north, all we have are Frost Swords, Ice Soul Fingers, Yuan Magnetic Palms, and Frozen Divine Blades. Though sects and families have different names and tools for explaining martial principles, they’re essentially the same things.”

He closed his eyes, his face bathed in golden sunlight, speaking in a dreamlike tone, “The world is vast, with sun, moon, stars, and rivers. There is the boundless sky, flourishing trees, vast seas, lightning storms, fierce winds, evil spirits, and the cycle of beginnings and endings. It is not just monotonous ice and Yuan magnetism. The martial path should be the same—explaining different natural laws, embodying a world through one’s own flesh, each with unique brilliance, distinctive characteristics, and formidable power.”

“The vast and magnificent world, the profound and diverse martial path, is waiting for us to witness and explore. Just thinking about it makes my blood boil.”

His junior, and also his fiancée, Liu Zejun, was equally captivated. She had broken through to the External Manifestation level at the age of twenty-seven or twenty-eight, a testament to her innate talent and relentless effort, and she held a strong belief in the martial path.

“But I’ve heard that the martial arts in the south are flourishing, with countless gifted individuals emerging, far surpassing what we have in the extreme north. In the past, there were indeed seniors who ventured south to challenge others, but many returned with serious setbacks, some even losing their confidence in martial cultivation, leaving irreparable scars in their hearts…” Liu Zejun still felt some concern.

Martial sects and families in the extreme north had some contact with External Manifestation experts who came seeking rare treasures, so they weren’t completely ignorant of the south. But half-knowledge often led to self-imagination, and with examples of seniors who had suffered heavy defeats, it was no wonder a subconscious isolationist mentality had developed.

Chen Zhao couldn’t help but smile. He turned to face his junior, “Don’t you have confidence in me, your senior brother?”

“A Grandmaster under thirty—an extremely rare occurrence even in ancient records. Moreover, our martial arts are neither incomplete nor flawed; they are genuine inheritances of the Dharmakaya lineage. Compared to the south, there is no significant difference. If that is the case, as Grandmasters, how could there be such a huge disparity?”

“Except for those old men, other Grandmasters can only rely on deeper and purer cultivation, and a slightly superior realm to fight me to a draw. With such strength, where in the world can’t I go?”

He spoke with full confidence, brimming with vigor and ambition. Liu Zejun, watching him, was dazzled by his charm—this was the most attractive aspect of her senior brother.

“Moreover, I suspect that those seniors who suffered heavy defeats in the past were precisely because the extreme north has remained isolated, never encountering other martial techniques. Meanwhile, the south has many experts skilled in ice and Yuan magnetism. Since they have similar experiences, they had the advantage in their first encounters, causing our seniors to suffer greatly, lose confidence and momentum, and eventually be defeated repeatedly and return in disgrace.” Chen Zhao inhaled deeply, “But I am well-prepared. The previous skirmish is proof of that.”

Liu Zejun’s demeanor quickly shifted, and with a radiant smile, she said, “Though the south may boast many talented individuals, I believe very few can surpass my senior brother. Even if you can’t outshine all your peers and those of equal standing, you won’t be far behind the very best among them.”

Chen Zhao nodded slightly, sighing, “I hope the martial world in the south won’t disappoint me. I am truly looking forward to it.”

His powerful aura and the confidence accumulated from repeated victories made his spirit and willpower coalesce into an imposing presence, giving the impression of an unscalable mountain.

Liu Zejun was not very old and had a lively personality. After her worries were eased, she became excited about the journey south and casually remarked, “Once Senior Brother reaches the peak, let’s first return to the far north and enter the Ice Fairy Palace to see if we can find any extraordinary opportunities.”

As Chen Zhao was about to reply, he suddenly felt a shift in his heart and turned his gaze toward the southeast of the canyon. There, a man in black martial attire approached, carrying a blade on his back. His appearance was striking, and his aura bore a striking resemblance to Chen Zhao’s—an aura of confidence built from defeating one powerful opponent after another, an aura that suppressed an enemy’s momentum and spirit.

“A worthy opponent!” A delighted expression appeared on Chen Zhao’s face. He stepped forward, their gazes locking, and their auras collided midair, sparking visible sparks against the snowy backdrop.

Meng Qi had initially concealed his aura. Upon realizing that the figures were not Golden Tent Warriors or shamans of the Eternal Religion, he approached openly and asked, “Have you seen these Grandmasters?”

In midair, frosty air gathered, forming images—clearly depicting Hasawula and others.

Chen Zhao laughed heartily, “We just crossed paths not long ago. If you want to know their whereabouts, you must first spar with me and prove yourself worthy.”

“That is exactly what I desire,” Meng Qi replied. Upon discovering that the opponent was also a Grandmaster, exuding the same kind of confidence born from experience, Meng Qi’s fighting spirit surged. His right hand reached slowly but comprehensively toward his blade’s hilt, as if covering the surrounding space. Yin and Yang flowed, making it difficult to discern what was real and what was illusory. Finally, his hand landed firmly on the hilt.

Chen Zhao’s eyes lit up, and the pressure intensified, “Excellent!”

He braced himself as if facing a formidable opponent. Behind him, a fiery sphere emerged, continuously gathering and erupting flames, like the sun descending upon this place. At the same time, every acupoint on his body opened, each one seemingly containing a miniature sun, continuously spewing forth terrifying power. A thin layer of crimson flame covered his body.

In Meng Qi’s eyes, Chen Zhao appeared as if each acupoint had ignited a nuclear reactor, radiating terrifying strength and heat with every movement.

He is a martial artist who excels in power… This realization flashed through Meng Qi’s mind.

Good. It just so happens that I’m also skilled in strength!

Meng Qi drew out Tianzhi Shang (Heaven’s Wound), his body following the momentum of the blade. In an instant, he appeared before Chen Zhao.

Chen Zhao held a long staff, unadorned, channeling the power of all his acupoints into his hands, and struck downward fiercely.

Bang!

The blade and staff collided, instantly causing an explosion that shattered the ancient ice, collapsed part of the cliff, and sent a mushroom cloud rolling outward.

Surrounded by flames, struck by the shockwave, Meng Qi showed no signs of distress as he swung his blade again.

The distance was short, the speed was fast. Chen Zhao had no way to dodge and could only block with his staff, retreating while fighting.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Meng Qi advanced in large strides, the blade and staff colliding repeatedly. Explosions followed one after another as Chen Zhao was pushed back, forming a continuous forest of flame-covered mushroom clouds.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Sections of the cliff collapsed one after another, the snow melted, and air currents scattered.

Their battle was extremely fast, seemingly relying purely on brute force. Chen Zhao grew increasingly alarmed. Where had this monster come from? His hands were actually trembling, and he felt the overwhelming pressure of being unable to withstand the attacks. Meng Qi’s physical strength was simply beyond comprehension.

Moreover, Meng Qi’s sword techniques were naturally flawless, effortlessly executing various profound and intricate moves, completely suppressing Chen Zhao, leaving him only to defend.

Even more terrifying was that the shockwaves and flames from the explosions seemed to have no effect on Meng Qi, while Chen Zhao was repeatedly hit, his momentum gradually declining. At this rate, he would lose soon!

What an animal! Since leaving his master, Chen Zhao had never encountered an opponent like this. Clenching his teeth, he could only resort to his ultimate techniques to turn the tide and shift from defense to offense.

Meng Qi’s aura was vast and mighty, charging forward relentlessly, indifferent to the repeated clashes of blade and staff—the ideal battlefield for a physically dominant warrior.

First, the fiery sphere behind Chen Zhao radiated intense heat, creating a furnace-like domain. However, Meng Qi was completely unaffected, his body glowing faintly golden, like a divine Buddha descending. The fiery sphere then flew forward, diving into Chen Zhao’s body, merging the power of all his acupoints into a single force.

“Break through!” With all his might, Chen Zhao swung his copper staff, nearly tearing the sky apart.

Meng Qi’s body expanded, the world returning to emptiness, as his long blade slashed downward.

Boom! The heavens and earth seemed to lose their color, as if only black and white remained. A figure flew backward, blood flowing from his palms—Chen Zhao.

As Meng Qi prepared to ask a question, a meteor suddenly shot up in the distance.

A distress signal!

Chen Zhao, filled with frustration, steadied his body and called out loudly, “May I ask for your honorable name, Sir? I am from the extreme north…”

Before he could finish speaking, he saw the black-clad martial artist vanish from sight, flying rapidly northeast.

“I am Chen Zhao from the extreme north…” Chen Zhao stood there, stunned, murmuring to himself, his expression a mix of pain and fervor.

Follow him!