Chapter 112

However, having this opportunity, Feng Yi, like Yang Guo, adopted a studious attitude and focused his gaze, beginning to pay attention.

The Nine Yin True Classic is the pinnacle of martial arts; Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng, one orthodox and the other heterodox, have brought the True Classic's techniques to full expression. Though their strength has waned and their hand speed is no longer what it was, this actually lets them see each other's moves more clearly.

Yang Guo's insight surpasses that of ordinary people, and Feng Yi's martial arts cultivation is peerless under heaven; at this moment, both of them have gained much understanding.

Yang Guo pondered the three men's techniques; the more he thought, the more excited he became, unable to resist trying them out in practice, yet he felt their profundity was endless.

Feng Yi saw that Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng were so formidable, and thought: 'No wonder in the original plot they had to die; if even one of them were alive, how could Yang Guo have a chance to present his treasure at the Heroes' Gathering?'

He well knew that in the original plot, the Golden Wheel Dharma King targeted Hong Qigong, this kind of elder master; in his eyes, Guo Jing was merely left for his own disciple to deal with.

But if Hong Qigong weren't dead, and the Golden Wheel Dharma King were dealt with by him, and Guo Jing took care of Huodu and Darba, wouldn't that be easy and pleasant! Even with Ouyang Feng around, when would it be his son's turn to be bullied? If he didn't tear apart the Golden Wheel, Huodu, and a few others, that would mean he'd only adopted a fake son.

Therefore, to clear the path for the protagonist Yang Guo, they must die. If they were alive, given the great fame of the Heroes' Gathering, these two would certainly attend.

Even Xiao Longnv, who dislikes bustle, upon hearing of the Heroes' Gathering with its gathering of heroes, knows to go there to find Yang Guo; thus these two—one standing in for his disciple, the other seeking his son—will certainly go as well.

Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng fought straight through to evening; Hong Qigong's every move and style were clear and orderly, while Ouyang Feng's techniques were bizarre and hard to fathom. Each time Hong Qigong gained the upper hand, Ouyang Feng would suddenly unleash a strange move, pulling the bout back to a draw.

Yet Ouyang Feng could not secure a victory either; after exchanging thousands upon thousands of moves, the two remained undecided.

Only then did Yang Guo truly feel afraid; how could he have imagined that these two old men would fight from morning till night? Thinking that they were not young, if they continued they might slip up, he shouted loudly, urging them to stop.

But Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng were fighting with such gusto, how could they stop? Only then did Yang Guo realize why Feng Yi wanted him to trick his foster father; he clasped his hands and said, "Feng brother, I was mistaken—please help me. This time I will definitely follow your advice and trick my foster father."

He rarely admires anyone, yet he already held Feng Yi's martial arts in utmost reverence; seeing his profound insight, able to foresee everything, his respect grew even deeper—these words came straight from his heart.

Feng Yi took off his gourd, took a sip of wine, and smiled: "This place is spacious, unlike a narrow path, so you naturally have fewer worries—that's only human nature."

But I can't go onstage anymore—I can't take on two alone, and helping one against the other, you disagree, they also disagree, so we can only choose to respect each other's fate, right?"

Yang Guo thought that made sense, and while he was still hesitating, Feng Yi said, "This Senior Hong loves nothing more than eating."

Yang Guo imagined Hong Qigong's salivating expression when he mentioned food, thinking that if he could lure him with delicacies it might work, so he dug up many yams and cassava in the wild, lit a fire, and roasted them until fragrant.

Hong Qigong smelled the aroma and shouted, "You stinky toad, I'm not fighting you anymore—let's eat!"

He rushed to Yang Guo's side, grabbed two yams and ate them; although they burned his mouth, he mumbled praises.

Ouyang Feng hurried after him, raised his wooden staff, and brought it down on his head.

Hong Qigong did not dodge; he picked up a yam and tossed it over, calling, "Eat up!" Ouyang Feng stared, then instinctively caught it and ate it, completely forgetting their fierce battle.

Feng Yi found it amusing—these two old fellows were really interesting—sat beside Hong Qigong, and curiously asked, "Senior, how many fights have you had in your life?"

Hong Qigong, mouth full, said offhandedly, "Not a thousand, not even eight hundred big or small—what's up?"

Feng Yi grunted and said, "After so many fights, you've had enough for a lifetime. If you're still not satisfied, must you be beaten to death or crippled before you're content?"

Hong Qigong pondered, then nodded and said, "Your words aren't wrong. Since ancient times, fame and wealth have harmed people—as the saying goes, 'People fear fame, pigs fear getting fat.' The jianghu is teeming like carp crossing the river; who doesn't dream of defeating a master in one blow to make a name? When I was young, I thought the same; now old, I am still weary of it, which is why I wanted to entrust the leader's position to someone else and live in quiet."

Ouyang Feng, who had been sitting aside eating, suddenly said upon hearing this, "Old Beggar, do you know Huang Yaoshi and Guo Jing?"

This remark made Hong Qigong click his tongue, wondering whether this old guy was crazy or not; he chuckled and asked, "What's up?"

Ouyang Feng said, "Guo Jing has taken my son to Peach Blossom Island……"

Upon hearing this, Yang Guo was even more moved and hurriedly said, "Father, I am your son—I'm right here!"

Ouyang Feng rolled his eyes, looked at Yang Guo, and then exclaimed delightedly, "Oh, you're here!"

Saying this, he tapped his head: "How come my brain isn't up to the task?"

Yang Guo, fearing he might think of something else and start fighting Hong Qigong again, hurriedly said, "Father, someone is bullying your son—please go get revenge for me?"

Ouyang Feng sprang up: "Unthinkable! How dare anyone bully my son?"

He said, his gaze sweeping over Hong Qigong and Feng Yi, coldly asking, "Is it them?"

Yang Guo grabbed him and said, "No, it's not them, Father—I'll take you to find them."

Ouyang Feng nodded and said, "Good!"

Yang Guo bowed to Hong Qigong and Feng Yi, then took Ouyang Feng's hand and walked off; after just two steps, Ouyang Feng turned back to Hong Qigong and said, "Old fellow, your martial arts are formidable—we'll fight again later."

He also said to Feng Yi, "Little brat, your martial arts are not bad either, but you're still far short of my title as number one under heaven—you need more practice!"

Seeing how muddled he was—once calling him Old Beggar, now Old Fellow, yet always insisting he was number one under heaven—Hong Qigong felt both angry and amused, about to scold him, when Feng Yi laughed and said, "You're absolutely right."

Yang Guo gave the two an embarrassed smile and said to Ouyang Feng, "Father, we're late—that person has already fled."

"What the son says is right!" he exclaimed, grabbing Yang Guo; in a flash of movement he was already behind the mountain ridge, and in an instant vanished from sight.

Hong Qigong saw the two disappear front and back, and laughed, "This old poisonous creature—who knows if he's pretending to be foolish or just odd—truly unexpected."

He then stared at Feng Yi, frowning deeply; confident in his piercing vision, yet unable to see this person's background, he smiled and said, "Kid, why won't you let me fight the old poisonous creature—what's your motive?"

Feng Yi pondered briefly, then sighed, "Your peerless martial arts are awe‑inspiring; if I didn't need the Beggars' Sect's help for something, I would have come to ask a favor here, and I certainly wouldn't want to disturb your leisure."

Hong Qigong was greatly surprised, thinking this kid's martial arts are not inferior to mine—what matter requires the Beggars' Sect's aid? After another thought he said, "On what basis do you think you can now ask for a favor? Could it be that the old poisonous creature could still defeat me?"

Feng Yi shook his head and said, "Senior Hong, although you and Ouyang Feng are equally renowned, he defeated you by one point in the second Mount Hua sword debate, after which he went mad for over ten years."

Everyone knows, how could a madman regain his former vigor?

But you are a clear‑minded person; defeating him is wholly justified, though it may not bring much glory.

But if you should happen to lose even a single move or half‑form, once it spreads through the jianghu, everyone will say, 'What Northern Beggar, what Beggars' Sect divine art—it's nothing special, losing to a madman!' Not letting you contest with a madman—isn't that a favor?

Hong Qigong's face changed abruptly upon hearing this.

He actually understood clearly, knowing Feng Yi's words hit the mark—the most crucial point.

More than ten years ago Hong Qigong certainly hated the West Poison's evils, but now, old and with his fiery nature diminished, seeing him mad and with Feng Yi and Yang Guo repeatedly mediating, he truly had no wish to kill him; yet if they were to fight, who would win—deer or horse—remains uncertain, and there may still be a battle.

Moreover, having once been the former leader of the Beggars' Sect, he knows its depths well; if he were truly to fall at the hands of the madman Ouyang Feng, that would be utterly humiliating.

Seeing Hong Qigong's solemn expression, Feng Yi secretly amused himself: "Since Wang Zhongyang's death, these few have been trying to regain the title of number one under heaven, and he once lost to Ouyang Feng—how could he not bear a grudge?"

He lightly coughed and said, "Senior Hong, is your reputation more important, or the present Han‑Mongol affair?"

Hong Qigong answered without hesitation: "No need to ask—of course the Han‑Mongol affair is more important. I have already learned that the Five Ugly Ones of the Border are committing evil in Guangdong under the Mongol banner, to sow panic among the populace and court, thereby facilitating a southern campaign."

Feng Yi nodded and said, "Since the Han‑Mongol affair is so important, if you were to wage an endless battle with Ouyang Feng and suffer any mishap, the martial heroes' assembly would lose you, this towering figure; who then would lead the heroes, whose orders would they follow? Would we have to hold a martial contest to seize the leadership?"

Hong Qigong laughed heartily and said, "Little fellow, you needn't flatter me—without the Old Beggar, would there be no leader of the martial arts world?"

Feng Yi shook his head and said, "This isn't flattery; let's make a bet—even if you, old sir, don't show up at the martial arts gathering, who else could take the position of leader of the martial arts world besides you?"

Hong Qigong gave a ha laugh and said: "That's hard to say."

Saying that, he yawned and said: "All right, I've been chasing those bastards for four days and nights without sleep, and then I fought this bout with Old Poison; my old bones are about to fall apart. I need to sleep soundly for three days and three nights—you keep watch, don't let wild beasts bite off my head." Having said that, he lay down and fell asleep.

Feng Yi secretly chuckled, thinking: "Am I taking over Yang Guo's shift?"

But he kept Ouyang Feng's and Hong Qigong's marvelous moves in mind, not minding, he recalled their various extraordinary techniques and practiced them move by move.

At this time, goose-feather-like heavy snow fell without cease, covering Hong Qigong's head and body with a layer of white snow, like cotton. The human body naturally has warmth; snowflakes melt upon contact with heat, so how could they stay on his face?

Feng Yi was first startled, thinking the old man had died from exhaustion, but then he thought, that's not right.

In the original plot, Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng fought fiercely for several days, then expended at least twelve hours of internal energy before running out of steam; now they've only fought for a day, so it shouldn't be that.

Upon reflection, he realized that even while sleeping he was still covertly exercising his divine skill, gathering all his warmth inside. Thus a perfectly lively person, when asleep, appears like a corpse—such internal skill is truly astonishing and enviable.

Feng Yi considered that if he deliberately did this, he could manage it, but if unintentional, he could never achieve such perfect timing.

Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng had both internal and external skills at the peak of perfection, their furnaces pure; in the original story they both died together, having fought day and night for four straight days, exhausted in spirit and strength, nearly collapsing.

Ouyang Feng then matched internal strength with Hong Qigong, fighting from evening to morning, then from morning to chen hour, then from chen to noon, then from noon to shen hour, which finally caused both to exhaust their energy.

Yang Guo's martial arts and knowledge were too shallow; when trying to separate the two, he couldn't get it just right, and instead Hong and Ouyang suffered a rebound of his internal energy, sustaining serious injuries that even internal healing could not remedy.

Although Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng now also feel fatigued, they are not yet at the point of repeating that old fate.

After practicing a bit, Feng Yi fell asleep. He didn't believe that he and Hong Qigong would fail to notice a wild beast biting his head.

The next day, Feng Yi continued practicing martial arts, while Hong Qigong's posture remained exactly as it had been the previous day.

On the third day, it was still the same, but Feng Yi couldn't take it; he was starving and thought: "Damn, he's sleeping like a beauty, and my stomach is killing me!"

The yams and cassava Yang Guo had procured that night were all eaten up; he took a few sips of wine, and the more he drank, the emptier he felt, so he immediately rose to go dig for food in the fields.

He knew Hong Qigong was asleep, but any external disturbance would wake him instantly, so he wasn't worried.

To his surprise, when he returned carrying food, the place where Hong Qigong had been sleeping was empty, only the snow shaken from his body remained.

Feng Yi's heart jolted; in an instant he understood that Hong Qigong was deliberately testing him, just as in the original story he tested Yang Guo, to see if he could guard him for three days like Yang Guo did.

However, Feng Yi differed from Yang Guo; he knew that while Hong Qigong slept he remained vigilant, so he didn't think much of it, never expecting Hong Qigong to just leave.

Feng Yi knew he could vanish like a dragon's transformation; once he left, there was no trace. Fortunately, this trip was also fruitful: he opened his wine gourd, drained it in one gulp, tied the empty gourd to his waist, and drifted down the mountain.

Although he didn't obtain Hong Qigong's Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms or Dog-Beating Staff Technique, it didn't matter. For now he needed to go to Chang'an to find Hong Lingbo, then proceed to Dashengguan.

Feng Yi bought a few pancakes at the mountain's base, filled a gourd with wine, ate while walking without stopping, followed the official road, and entered Chang'an as the sun slanted westward.

He went straight to the small courtyard he had rented, which was also the place where he and Hong Lingbo had consummated their relationship, and was the agreed-upon meeting spot.

But when he entered the courtyard, there was no sound; he called out "Lingbo" twice, and no one answered.

When Feng Yi pushed open the door, he saw a plain sheet of paper pressed on the long table, written in delicate small script: "Meeting you, my heart is filled with unspeakable feelings; you wish to undertake great endeavors, but I lack the strength to aid you. From now I will wander the rivers and lakes; if you meet misfortune, it will be of your own making. Should you seek another fine match, on the day of your grand wedding, even if we are at the ends of the earth, I will still pray for your blessings."

The note bore no signature, yet the water stains dotted like tears; Feng Yi knew it was written by Hong Lingbo, and recalling the past few days' events, he truly felt his head as big as a bucket.

No wonder Hong Qigong remained single his whole life; male-female relations are like a giant dye vat—no matter who you are, once you step in, it's hard to stay clean.

That night, the late breeze was gentle, and the crescent moon rose.

Feng Yi felt no sleepiness, sitting in the courtyard and pondering every detail. He desperately tried to figure out why Hong Lingbo had left him, and what kind of feeling he himself had.

Instead, he became more entangled, truly unable to cut it off, thoughts in disarray, it was just another flavor in his heart.

Once, a beautiful and capable woman like Hong Lingbo was a white-rich-beauty he could only admire from afar; not to mention having relations with her multiple times, even just sharing the same thoughts as others, unattainable, yet he enjoyed it tirelessly.

But as he transmigrated and his martial arts rose, all of this changed.

He had become someone who valued only appearance and neglected inner substance. Unconsciously he lifted his head to glance at the moon, and couldn't help sighing, "The bright moon can have light, but how can people be heartless!" Just as this thought arose, the shadows of several women suddenly appeared, and Feng Yi felt only bewilderment.

Actually he clearly knew that having no women would be best for him, yet as long as those few women existed, it was as if an invisible rope bound him, and his heart couldn't help but worry.

Yet each of those women was sharp-witted; he simply couldn't play them. Cheng Ying's attempt failed; he and she had hardly any experience, merely having uttered a cheap "like," and it was normal for her to disagree.

Although Li Mochou had been seen and touched by him, her deeds were vicious, and he had never turned pale; her departure is understandable.

But with Hong Lingbo, he had also said he liked her, had engaged in deep conversation with her, and yet she left without a word.

Why is this? Could it be that they were destined to become others' wives, others' mothers, while he should remain a lonely wanderer? Feng Yi felt depressed; he then punched and kicked, venting his pent-up frustration. He practiced the Nine Yin True Classic and the martial arts of Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng in a round, then went through the Blood Saber Classic, the Linked City Sword Technique, and Huang Yaoshi's various martial arts, sweating through his heavy clothes, and his gloom eased somewhat.

Feng Yi stood there dazed for a while, then suddenly recalled Hong Qigong's words: "What is the purpose of practicing martial arts?" He had also told Yang Guo to kill more barbarians; thus he should use superior achievements to prove his worth.

What's the point of endlessly lingering in love affairs? From now on, old man won't provoke women—will that do?

For now, set a small goal: how can I integrate all I've learned into a coherent system and establish my own school? To divert his thoughts, Feng Yi put aside thoughts of women and focused wholeheartedly on studying martial arts.

Since meeting Ding Ding, Feng Yi's studies had been miscellaneous; later he obtained the Blood Saber Classic, which contains both internal and external skills as well as weapons. After meeting the Golden Wheel Monk, Guo Jing, and Huang Yaoshi, he also gained the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Skill, the Nine Yin True Classic, and other martial arts.

However, these martial arts differ greatly; external techniques driven by his Divine Illumination Skill are all usable. But when it comes to the application of force, things don't match up—empty forms, when facing top-tier masters, are easily countered; yet to achieve integration, there are still many obstacles.

Feng Yi pondered back and forth, a flash of insight struck: "Guo Jing, Ouyang Feng, Hong Qigong, and the One Lamp Grand Master all studied the Nine Yin True Classic, yet when they don't show off fancy tricks, why do they each display their own signature skills?"

Obviously they integrated the martial principles of the Nine Yin True Classic into their own learning; they can do that—why can't I?

If I were to extend my martial arts according to the context of the Nine Yin True Classic, once I achieved something, wouldn't it naturally become integrated? Having thought this, Feng Yi acted on it immediately.

He had long used Divine Illumination to open the Ren and Du meridians, his true qi possessing both yin and yang; any internal or external technique, once its principles are understood, can be practiced accordingly.

He first used the fist principles from the Nine Yin True Classic to execute the "Shadowless Divine Fist." This attempt far exceeded expectations; he suddenly realized that relying on the Nine Yin True Classic's principles, he could still improve the Shadowless Divine Fist.

After finishing the Shadowless Fist, he employed the fist and foot techniques from the Blood Saber Classic, performing several moves, and felt the same sensation.

Feng Yi felt astonished; as he continued to apply techniques, he suddenly discovered that by acting according to the principles of the Nine Yin True Strength, any move he knew could find a corresponding variation.

Upon grasping this, Feng Yi was greatly shocked; he cast aside everything and devoted himself wholly to studying the Nine Yin True Classic. The deeper he delved, the more he felt its vast profundity. It is like an ocean that can absorb a hundred rivers; any martial art in the world, when altered accordingly, can be merged into it, giving rise to techniques never before seen.

As it turns out, the creator of the Nine Yin True Classic, Huang Shang, is an unparalleled extraordinary person.

In the past, he obeyed Emperor Huizong of Song's order, searched far and wide for Daoist texts, and had the "Ten Thousand Longevity Dao Canon" block-printed, totaling five thousand four hundred eighty-one volumes. He actually became versed in Daoist learning and techniques, and thereby comprehended the profound principles within martial arts; self-taught, he cultivated internal and external skills, becoming a great martial arts master.

Later, when the Ming Sect rebelled, Huang Shang was ordered to suppress the rebellion; he killed the sect's Dharma King and envoys. Being a court official, he did not observe jianghu rules. Those men's relatives and friends were masters of various schools, also naturally unbound by jianghu etiquette, so they swarmed him; Huang Shang killed a few, but was also wounded, and desperately fled to a remote wasteland to study martial arts.

Those dozens of opponents' martial arts moves, he memorized each stance and technique, painstakingly pondering how to counter them. This took over forty years, and he finally worked out how to break every strange, Yin poisonous technique the enemies had used.

Unfortunately, later all his enemies died, and even a woman of his age had become frail and aged. Huang Shang extinguished his thoughts of revenge, yet this gate containing the accumulated martial arts wisdom of all schools under heaven was too precious to bury, and thus the Nine Yin True Classic came into being.

It contains internal energy as well as many martial arts moves; if a practitioner knows the moves but does not comprehend the Nine Yin Divine Skill, the Nine Yin True Classic's martial arts are not invincible. However, if one grasps the Nine Yin Divine Skill, those techniques can be transformed into countless wondrous variations.

Therefore, the marvel of the Nine Yin True Classic lies not in a single move or stance, but in a guiding principle; any martial art that conforms to this principle can be reborn and transformed, and this is why it can be hailed as the ultimate synthesis of all martial arts under heaven.

Guo Jing can incorporate the principles from the Nine Yin True Classic into the Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms, his mastery surpassing that of Hong Qigong.

Hong Qigong can heal injuries and verify his martial arts with just a part of it; Yideng Dashi can rely on this skill to shorten the time needed to recover his strength, while Ouyang Feng can practice it in reverse to achieve proper cultivation.

Huang Yaoshi was able to compile a quick‑mastery version of the Nine Yin White Bone Claw and the White Python Whip Method, allowing Zhou Zhiruo a century later to nearly sweep the martial world—all thanks to this principle.

Feng Yi tried to assimilate all his martial arts into the Nine Yin True Classic to forge a single school. He had thought that, relying on his own talent, putting it into practice would surely be awkward and difficult, but to his surprise, once he tried it, he found it came naturally.

Feng Yi initially felt amazed, but upon reflection, after cultivating the Divine Illumination Classic, his mind and spirit had improved, enabling him to observe things with minute attention. Now wholly immersed in martial arts, how could he be compared to the clueless novice he once was?

Moreover, Feng Yi's internal energy is supreme; he deeply understands the variations of force, the balance of strength and speed, and has mastered their subtleties, allowing him to meld all his martial arts into one.

When he strikes, he may claim to be using the Liancheng Sword Method, but in fact it is not; the same goes for his blade work, fist and foot techniques—his rate of progress is astonishing.

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye more than a month had passed. Feng Yi's studies were extensive; he had not yet fully integrated everything, but he had achieved some minor success, his strength considerably improved. Thinking that the Heroes' Gathering was approaching, he immediately set out.

He walked onto the street, thinking first to go to Taibai Tower for a hearty meal, to celebrate, then continue on his way. After all these days, he had been wholly absorbed in martial arts, eating merely to get by, and now he felt a bit hungry.

But before he reached Taibai Tower, he suddenly heard a loud shout from the street ahead: "How can you eat without paying, and still have the nerve to complain?"

Suddenly a clear, bell‑like voice, yet icy cold, replied: "Money? I don't have any money!"

Upon hearing that voice, Feng Yi needed not look to know who was speaking; he frowned and thought, "Damn, this is really strange—Yang Guo couldn't find this person, yet I run into them right away."

Soon a crowd gathered on the street; Feng Yi squeezed in to look, and sure enough, he saw that familiar figure in white.

A thin, wizened old man, his lips trembling with anger, shouted loudly: "Everybody, judge for me—is there anyone in this world who eats without paying?"

But the onlookers paid him no heed; they were all staring at the white‑clad figure.

For the woman was so beautiful that, even if she ate without paying, no one would dare to help him blame her.

If the three outlooks could be changed, it would be solely because of the five outlooks.

The woman was radiant as peach and plum blossoms, yet her face was icy and bloodless, giving her an otherworldly, refined elegance, her features surpassingly lovely. People often describe a woman's beauty as "like a celestial fairy," but no one knows exactly how a fairy looks; at this sight of the girl, everyone's heart involuntarily exclaimed, "Like a celestial fairy!"

She seemed enveloped in a thin veil of light mist, half‑real, half‑illusory, not a mortal of this world; such an unworldly person could only be Xiao Longnv.

Someone then said, "It's just a meal—how much could it cost? I'll pay."

"Yeah, you're making a fuss over a few bites of food."

The old man, seeing the crowd instead blame him, angrily cursed his own bad luck, thinking he would never get the money back,

but seeing her beauty like a celestial fairy, he no longer wanted to make things difficult for her and was about to walk away; Feng Yi watched, secretly amused.

Xiao Longnv's eyes shifted, scanning the crowd, then suddenly brightened as she fixed her gaze on a certain spot.

Everyone followed her gaze and saw a tall, handsome young man; the woman in white walked straight up to him and asked, "Have you seen my son?"

Having finally found an acquaintance, she felt greatly excited, though her face remained expressionless.

Feng Yi frowned slightly and said, "How do you know I've seen him?"

Xiao Longnv stared, startled, then asked, "Have you really seen him?"

It turned out that after parting with Yang Guo, she had dove back underwater into the stone chamber of the ancient tomb.

Before she turned eighteen, she had lived in the ancient tomb, her mind as still as still water, without a ripple; but after meeting Yang Guo and enduring these tribulations, she could no longer keep her affairs free of worry as she once did.

Whenever she sat in meditation on the cold jade bed to practice, she would recall that Yang Guo had once slept there; when she ate at the table, she would remember that he had once shared her meals.

After only a brief moment of practice, her mind would become vexed, making it hard to continue.

After more than a month of this, she could bear it no longer and resolved to seek Yang Guo, though she did not know how to treat him upon finding him; but whatever the case, she would first find him.

Descending the mountain, she found everything novel and, not knowing the roads, she would ask passersby, "Have you seen Yang Guo?"

Thus, when she had just asked Feng Yi, it was not because she knew he had seen Yang Guo, but because she asks everyone she meets that question.

Of course, when she was hungry she would simply take others' food and eat it, not knowing she ought to pay, which is how the comedy arose.

Feng Yi nodded and said, "I have seen him."

Xiao Longnv, overjoyed, said, "Can you take me to find him?"

At this moment, her face bore a slight smile, like spring blossoms in full bloom, leaving everyone dazed; even Feng Yi felt a bit dazed.

He had seen Xiao Longnv before, but this was the first time he saw her smile; he thought, "Living day in and day out with a woman like her, which man could endure it? He'd have to amuse himself by making her laugh."

Before Feng Yi could speak, the old man said, "Sir, are you acquainted with this young lady?"

He had originally not intended to ask for money, but seeing that she knew Feng Yi, he changed his mind and wanted payment again.

Feng Yi understood his intent, took out a silver ingot from his bosom, threw it to him, and said, "Is this enough?"

"Enough, enough!"

The old man bowed and scraped, then hurried away, thinking, "No wonder this lass is so arrogant—turns out there's a tall, sturdy fellow backing her up!"

Xiao Longnv softly sighed, "Is that what money is?"

The crowd instantly stared, each thinking, "Is this lass perhaps a fool?"

Feng Yi sighed inwardly, "She's someone who has never experienced the hustle and bustle of the mortal world." He nodded, saying, "Yes, that is money." Then he added, "Miss Long, let's talk as we walk," and strode off.

Upon hearing that Feng Yi knew Yang Guo's whereabouts, Xiao Longnv immediately followed.

The onlookers silently sighed and could only disperse in a crowd.

Although Xiao Longnv is undoubtedly beautiful, Feng Yi certainly does not look like an easy opponent.

They had merely glanced at his face; when their eyes met, his pupils were deep as an abyss, making everyone feel a bit dizzy, and they dared not look again.

(End of chapter)