Chapter 297: The Fist That Cannot Hide Tears

【Xia Na: Let him keep sleeping; there’s no incident happening right now.】

【Forever Seventeen: Wait, something feels off… Didn’t he say he was going to Xiao Xiang to find a way to save the world? Isn’t that urgent?】

【Yinyang Yan Jianzi: Um… Didn’t Jia Ji say there was still some time left?】

【Xia Na: Wait, didn’t we conclude earlier that time was accelerating? What if one day he spends with Xiang equals a whole year in the Beidou world?!】

【Changmen Great Ming Shen: Insufficient data to determine.】

【Forever Seventeen: So… is it possible… maybe… perhaps… all these days have passed, and his world has already begun to collapse?】

【Lanyuan Yanzhu: No way Σ(っ°Д°;)っ】

【Xia Na: This is bad. Only he knows the exact situation… Damn it, of all times!】

【Yinyang Yan Jianzi: Saving other people’s worlds but not his own? That’s unacceptable!】

【Xiang: That’s terrible! We must wake up Master immediately!】

……

Instantly exposed to rapidly flowing time.

As everyone suspected, while Jia Ji’s consciousness was trapped somewhere unknown, forced to play tag with an unnamed golden-haired little girl, his world was racing toward the turning point of “fate.”

And that “fate” was the Wasteland Revelation.

The Day Earth Stood Still.

But…

The world would not lose all hope just because he was gone—there were still men who fought to stop the apocalypse, swinging their fists for the world, for all living beings.

For example—

The vermilion gate crashed open.

“The youngest of Beidou! Ken Shi Lang!”

A furious shout rang from within the hall, tinged with a barely perceptible trace of fear.

“Are you also going to interfere in the Nan Dou Xiang Yan Hui?!”

Amid a flurry of hurried footsteps, dozens of sharp figures emerged from the hall, each radiating fierce Dou Qi, their gazes like blade edges fixed on the young man walking toward them at a calm, unhurried pace.

His every step—its rhythm, force, and amplitude—was perfectly uniform, standing in stark contrast to the Nan Dou fist masters.

The burly youth appeared to be just over eighteen, his short black hair neatly trimmed, thick black eyebrows, and eyes blazing like they held brilliant stars within.

His nose was not high but straight; his mouth bore a rugged, masculine line, complemented by a sharply defined face and bronze skin, giving every “witness” the impression of a hardened warrior.

The Nan Dou Xiang Yan Hui—the grand gathering of the one hundred and eight sects from Nan Dou that qualified to participate, held once every decade, where each school met to test their martial skills.

Nan Dou Holy Fist is a Yang fist art, so it has constantly split into branches, yet its core remains the same Nan Dou Holy Fist; there is no true victory or defeat in the Xiang Yan Hui.

During it, heirs of each sect demonstrate their fist techniques and martial skills, or spar to earn recognition.

And this gathering, long restricted to Nan Dou alone—how could a Beidou man possibly enter?

Not to mention the youngest of the Beidou brothers.

Yet when he walked the world under the Beidou name—he carried the embodiment of Cimu Star, traversing nearly half of all Nan Dou sects.

With overwhelming, terrifying power, he shattered every challenger; even seventy percent chose… to surrender upon seeing him for the first time!

“That… is a fist not to be opposed.”

The defeated all said so.

Ridiculous! A disgrace to Nan Dou!

But it also made no one dare underestimate him again.

All the Nan Dou fist masters present—some backed by nations, some representing sects, others protecting regional powers—each a local strongman—exchanged a single glance; their eyes all conveyed the same meaning: absolutely no letting a Beidou disciple disrupt this grand event; they must crush this brat’s arrogance.

It was not impossible.

Since the world’s transformation three years ago, every martial artist had inexplicably broken through; those long stuck in stagnation suddenly gained new inspiration, their strength and cultivation base rising continuously.

Physical prowess, profound principles, combat power… the Nan Dou fist warriors gathered here were no ordinary lot, each wielding deep Dou Qi.

“Ken Shi Lang, you’ve come!”

Before they could move, a gentle figure with white bandages over his eyes appeared, radiating genuine joy; though blind, Bai Lu’s Xiu Wu accurately embraced the young man.

“Xiu Wu, are you…?”

The one who spoke in surprise had beautiful red hair; he had officially become an heir just a month ago.

A killing fist that shone brilliantly.

A beautiful crane dyed crimson with blood.

His fist was named Crimson Crane.

Among Nan Dou’s one hundred and eight sects, twenty-three had placed their hopes under this fist—Nan Dou Crimson Crane Fist—Yuda!

His hair was crimson, his braids crimson, his upper garment crimson, his belt, pants… every inch of him seemed drenched in blood; Yuda, with his atrocious sense of style, couldn’t understand why Xiu Wu, another of the Six Saints’ heirs, would weaken Nan Dou’s prestige first.

“Yes, I called him here.”

Xiu Wu made no attempt to hide it.

“Come with me.”

The man of Beidou extended his hand toward all before him, as if grasping heaven and earth itself.

“What are you talking about?!”

Someone shouted angrily, “This is the most critical moment of the Xiang Yan Hui! Beidou brat, get out—”

“There’s no time left… I’m not asking. I’m informing you.”

He used no power, his tone utterly flat, his face resolute as if stating an undeniable fact—yet suddenly, a halo of starlight erupted around him.

“If you have grievances against Beidou, direct them at me.”

The sun in the sky abruptly lost its color, dimmed, and vanished—replaced by seven colossal stars; a terrifying, overwhelming aura descended upon him.

“This is…”

Destiny!

The heavy weight of destiny clung to this impossibly young man, and the elder Nan Dou masters understood one thing: their fists now carried too little weight—if they struck him, it would only be humiliation.

“Wait!”

Tall and slender, with long, light-blue hair loosely flowing yet still radiant, exuding natural elegance; even his strikingly handsome features could not overshadow his presence.

Yet this man, without hesitation and with no dignity, was the first to turn and follow Ken Shi Lang as he left.

—Lei Yi of Nan Dou Water Bird Fist

They had never formally met before, yet he could no longer suppress his curiosity and impulse.

“What is he taking us to do?”

Immediately, everyone followed without a word.

(End of Chapter)