Great Yann.
Langning.
Chen Mansion.
Gah-chi~
Chen Jichuan pushed open the door and stepped out, only to see heavy snow cascading down, dressing the Chen Mansion in a resplendent silver, delightful in its bewitching beauty.
"Thirty-two days."
"Thirty-five years."
Thirty-two days passed in reality.
And thirty-five years had elapsed in Great Yann.
As he gazed at the falling snow outside the house,
Chen Jichuan couldn't help but marvel at the mysteries of ti. The four-hundredfold ti discrepancy left him with an overwhelming sense of disconnect every ti he stepped into or returned from Great Yann.
He braved the wind and snow,
walking in the courtyard.
Snowflakes fell, gently landing on Chen Jichuan's body. His martial cultivation and body refining techniques had rendered his Qi-Blood like a blazing furnace. As the vigorous energy soared around him, the snowflakes instantly evaporated into mist, enshrouding him in an aura akin to that of an immortal descending to the mortal world.
The Chen Mansion was typically uninhabited, with soone coming to clean it only once every ten days.
But when Chen Jichuan arrived at the rear courtyard, he suddenly heard the sound of "bang, bang" – fists and feet pounding against sothing.
"Soone's here?"
Chen Jichuan furrowed his brow as the snow crunched underfoot.
Not far ahead, he reached his forr training grounds in the rear courtyard. Wooden stakes, iron stakes, green bamboo, sand walls, stone locks, archery targets—everything was organized precisely.
The setup hadn't changed, but on closer examination, he could discern that everything had been replaced anew.
Under a canopy assembled from horizontal beams, eighteen blades of varying lengths hung in three rows of upper, middle, and lower tiers. A middle-aged martial artist, seemingly around thirty or forty years old, was in the midst of evading and guiding the blades with deft hands and nimble kicks. His movents were extraordinarily swift, almost lightning-like, as he maneuvered without letting a single blade graze his body. His precision was impeccable.
As his fists and feet moved,
"Bang, bang!" The sounds were forceful, his strength evident.
Chen Jichuan's discerning eyes swept over him, recognizing his identity through his Insight technique: "So, it's him."
His thoughts stirred.
He swiftly approached.
"Co!"
The glint of the blades flashed dizzyingly in the canopy, concealing the figures within. When the man noticed soone bursting in, he was both surprised and furious. With a loud yell, he clenched four fingers together and aid directly at Chen Jichuan's shoulder.
"What good intentions."
Chen Jichuan let out a smile inwardly.
Unhurried and calm,
he too brought four fingers together, his wrist curling into an eagle's talon as he grasped forward with ferocity—
"Hss!"
The opponent let out a cry of pain, withdrawing instantly. However, he couldn't suppress a sound of astonishnt: "Golden Shovel Finger?"
Chen Jichuan remained unfazed.
Seizing the advantage, he pressed forward, parrying the gleaming blades as he bypassed their tips. His hand shot forward like a dragon erging from the clouds, clawing toward the opponent. His five fingers shaped as a talon aid to capture them alive.
"Eagle Claw Skill?"
Another exclamation rang out.
The man stepped back swiftly, launching a kick as the blades trembled in the air to evade the eagle claw. His leg shot out like an arrow, taut and straight. Chen Jichuan sidestepped, eting the kick with one of his own—
"Iron Broom!?"
The opponent grew even more astonished, but his movents didn't cease on either hand or foot.
"Blades flutter wildly, chaos abounds. Decades of bitter training bring forth strength. Swift dodges from all directions, advancing flawlessly and evading effortlessly."
Both martial artists had mastered the Golden Blade Changing Palm Technique. Their eyes were sharp, their hands quick, and their footwork and movent techniques versatile and unpredictable. With eighteen blades flying chaotically, it wasn't just about defending against each other's punches and kicks—they also had to guard against the blades' dizzying arcs. Their nerves were taut to the extre, allowing no margin for error.
In the real world, Chen Jichuan often had to hold back, unable to fight freely.
But this ti, he unleashed his full potential.
His fists were like the wind.
His legs, like lightning.
For a mont, he was utterly exhilarated.
The other, however, after rely thirty or fifty exchanges of moves, already felt an aching pain spreading through his fists, feet, legs, and arms. What shocked him even more was that the martial arts moves of his opponent were almost identical to his own—in fact, this man's techniques were executed with even greater precision and mastery than his.
Golden Blade Changing Palm Technique.
Water Dividing Skill.
Golden Shovel Finger.
Iron Sand Palm Skill.
Lying Tiger Skill.
Eagle Claw Skill.
...
If it were rely one or two techniques that overlapped, it wouldn't have been too surprising. But for every single technique to match what he had learned—it was truly uncanny.
"Could it be that Mr. Chen had another apprentice in this world?"
Lul Changshou, realizing he was outmatched, felt his mind enter disarray. Abruptly, he retreated two steps, leaping out of the canopy and exiting the combat zone.
Looking in from outside,
he saw a figure wade through the disorderly dance of blades with the ease of a swimming fish, erging gracefully.
Standing before him.
This scene struck a chord deep within Lul Changshou, dredging up mories from long ago.
Narrowing his eyes further at the figure.
Lul Changshou frowned at first, unsure and astonished: "You are—"
Seeing his expression change, Chen Jichuan hesitated montarily, finding it odd: "You still rember ?"
He recalled their last eting—at the ti, Lul Changshou had been but a six-year-old child. Thirty-five years had passed; it was unlikely he could still recognize him.
"So it's true!"
Lul Changshou, unaware of what Chen Jichuan was thinking, was overtaken by excitent the mont he heard the familiar voice: "You really are Mr. Chen?!"
"You actually rember."
Chen Jichuan chuckled in surprise.
Back then, he had bid farewell to Lul Xiong and t four generations of the Lul Family, including the young Lul Changshou. At the ti, Lul Changshou had been rely six years old. Thirty-five years later, he had thought it impossible for anyone to recall his visage or voice. Unexpectedly, with just one glance, one word, the now-middle-aged Lul Changshou had recognized him.
...
Na: Lul Changshou
Age: 41
Level: 5
Techniques: Lying Tiger Skill (fifth layer), Golden Blade Changing Palm Technique (fourth layer), Golden Shovel Finger (fourth layer), Iron Broom Technique (third layer), Eagle Claw Skill (third layer), Jade Belt Skill (second layer), Land Flying Skill (second layer), Water Dividing Skill (second layer), Iron Bull Skill (second layer)
"Mr. Chen—"
"Great-grandson Changshou, pays respects to my esteed ancestor!"
Lul Changshou's entire being quaked; overco with both shock and joy, he knelt swiftly to bow, staring up at the venerable ancestor before him. Waves churned in his heart.
He was born with an extraordinary mory.
Even events from when he was two remained vivid.
At six, his final eting with the legendary "Southern Dynasty Chen" left an indelible impression.
Throughout his life, this ancestor profoundly influenced him.
As a young boy, he admired him for his fa. Witnessing Mr. Chen's martial prowess at six had cented his determination to pursue martial arts.
From his early teens onward,
with his muscles and bones fully developed, he had devoted himself to the "Martial Arts Essence" left by Mr. Chen. He then sought the Lul Family Martial Arts Hall of the second elder's lineage to formally step into the martial arts path.
He held an ardent passion for martial arts.
His family owned the prosperous "White Jade City," providing considerable wealth.
Coupled with his perseverance,
he soon achieved small success.
Later, he traveled far and wide, engaging in challenges, never slackening in his dedication, growing increasingly formidable. Because he often boasted of being the "sole heir of the Southern Dynasty Chen" during his duels, he earned the moniker "Little Nanchen" within the Lingnan Jianghu, taking great pride in it.
Yet, alas—
Mr. Chen had vanished without a trace thirty-five years prior, leaving no word.
In his martial journey, unanswered questions plagued him. Even with his successes, he longed for Mr. Chen to witness them. Believing the great master might have already passed, he rely hoped that, wherever Mr. Chen was, he might find solace knowing there was a worthy successor.
Who would've thought—
"Great ancestor, your youthful appearance is exactly as it was thirty-five years ago. Changshou can, of course, recognize you."
Within, Lul Changshou silently apologized for his earlier doubts, his emotions oscillating between joy and astonishnt.
He was elated to reunite with Mr. Chen in this lifeti. The sight of "Little Nanchen" eting "Big Nan Chen" thrilled him beyond asure.
And yet, he was staggered.
Thirty-five years should've aged this Mr. Chen to ninety-four, and yet his appearance was frozen in his thirties or forties. His martial prowess remained vigorous, so much so that even Lul Changshou himself was outmatched.
It was utterly mind-boggling.
"You are already forty-one now, your martial arts well-honed. There's no need to perform such grand customs before ."
Chen Jichuan smiled.
He had always been kind-hearted toward his own. Seeing before him a man of modest height but brimming with vitality, Chen couldn't help recalling the innocent six-year-old child he had t just a month ago in real-world ti.
For a mont,
Chen Jichuan felt an even stronger sense of temporal disruption.
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