stjorthotic Chapter 75 The Cold Wilderness Interception
Chapter 75 The Cold Wilderness Interception
The majestic outline of Wangnan City finally solidified into a phantom on the snowy horizon, like a colossal iron beast lying silently at the edge of the desolate wilderness.
The north wind whipped up snow, sweeping across jagged rocks, the strange stones grinding against each other with a low, mournful sound, leaving only a vast expanse of cold desolation between heaven and earth.
After more than ten days of riding the wind and snow, even with Lu Ming's formidable foundation, a sense of weariness began to creep in. He hovered in mid-air, intending to rest for a moment before re-entering the city, but then a sudden change occurred!
Behind the giant rock to the side, a gray light suddenly pierced the air, silent and stealthy, using a concealment technique to evade the divine sense scan, and went straight for Lu Ming's vital ribs!
Lu Ming frowned slightly. In the nick of time, he turned his body slightly, his right hand forming a sword shape with his fingers together. A wisp of sword energy burst forth from his fingertips and accurately struck the gray light.
"Ding!"
With a crisp sound, a gray light appeared, revealing itself to be a spindle-shaped magical artifact with barbs. Its spiritual light was instantly dimmed by the sword energy, and it flew back.
"Who is it?"
Lu Ming asked in a deep voice, his figure landing steadily on the snow-covered rocky beach. His Xuan Yuan True Qi quietly locked the giant rock, and the snow in the clouds trembled slightly in its sheath, the sword intent condensing.
Lu Ming's gaze was like a cold blade, piercing straight behind the rock.
A slender figure slowly emerged, dressed in gray clothes covered in snow and dust, his body as thin as bamboo.
His face was ordinary, yet it was etched with deep lines by the harsh winds and frosts of the northern wilderness.
The newcomer appeared to be around thirty years old, but his eyes, like those of a lone wolf in a snowy plain, harbored a bloodthirsty greed.
His cultivation level was at the late Foundation Establishment stage. Although he looked tired, he couldn't hide a trace of ruthlessness.
"Quick reaction."
The gray-robed cultivator's voice was hoarse. His gaze swept over Yun Jianxue at Lu Ming's waist, and his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily, his greed growing even stronger.
But when he sensed Lu Ming's solid aura, which far surpassed that of others of the same level, a hint of apprehension flashed in his eyes.
But he was ultimately overcome by his obsessive greed, saying, "Leave the spirit stones and that sword on your person, and I'll let you go."
Another case of murder and robbery!
A feeling of disgust, anger, and confusion welled up in Lu Ming's heart.
"What if I don't stay?" Lu Ming replied coldly, his anger evident.
A cruel smile curled at the corner of the gray-robed monk's lips: "Not going to stay? Then leave your lives behind!"
"In broad daylight, near the city, how dare you commit such a robbery!" Lu Ming asked angrily.
Yun Jianxue had not yet drawn her sword, but her blood and qi were already surging slightly. Her martial arts intent was condensed but not released, locking onto her opponent firmly.
"Looting?"
Upon hearing this, the gray-robed monk suddenly let out a mocking laugh, a laugh tinged with sorrow that scattered like dust in the wind and snow.
"What a plundering! You disciples of sects and heirs of aristocratic families, you always talk about rules and morality, but have you ever seen the path of a rogue cultivator paved with corpses?"
"Which of your sects and spiritual veins wasn't plundered in the beginning?"
"Now that you control all the resources, you're starting to set rules for all cultivators?"
"You're the one I'm robbing today!"
Before he could finish speaking, the gray-robed cultivator, knowing that the opportunity was fleeting, gave Lu Ming no chance to refute.
He lunged forward, his hands forming a hand seal. The shuttle-shaped magical artifact that had been flying backward emitted a gray light again, like a venomous snake spitting its tongue, aiming straight for his face.
At the same time, he opened his mouth and spat out three black beads the size of longan, which burst out of the air and blocked Lu Ming's retreat in a triangular shape. The beads were emitting black smoke and were the insidious Yin Fire Thunder Beads!
Every move is ruthless, a desperate gamble.
Lu Ming stepped out with his footwork, his figure as fast as lightning, weaving leisurely between the shadows of the shuttle and the thunder pearls, without a scratch.
He pointed his fingers in quick succession, unleashing several bursts of Xuanwu True Skill finger power that pierced the air and precisely struck the three thunder pearls.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Black flames surged and poisonous smoke billowed, but Lu Ming's powerful Tai Xuan Yuan Zhen Qi dispersed them, leaving not even a trace of poison on his clothes.
He struck out with a backhand palm, the palm wind as solid as iron, wrapped with the true meaning of martial arts, directly hitting the shuttle-shaped magic weapon.
With a mournful cry, the magical artifact's spiritual light was completely extinguished, shattering into several pieces that fell onto the snow and were instantly covered by the cold snow.
The gray-robed cultivator's face turned deathly pale, despair flashing in his eyes, yet he still refused to give up.
He roared and, disregarding the danger of his Dao foundation collapsing, burned his own spiritual power to create a bone shield in front of him. He then lunged forward, determined to fight to the death!
Lu Ming's annoyance gradually turned into anger.
This person kept pressuring him, but he remained obstinate and refused to see the truth.
Lu Ming neither dodged nor evaded, but simply threw a single punch.
His fists moved like dragons, his blood and qi surging, even bringing with them the faint sound of wind and thunder!
"boom!"
The bone shield couldn't even block it for a moment before it shattered with a roar, sending bone fragments flying everywhere.
The force of the punch penetrated the debris and landed heavily on the gray-robed monk's chest.
"puff"
The gray-robed monk coughed up blood, splattering the white snow in front of him.
He was sent flying backward and crashed heavily into the giant rock behind him.
Stone chips fell in a flurry, and he rolled to the ground, his breath weak and feeble, his limbs twitching, utterly powerless to resist.
Only one pair of eyes remained fixed on Lu Ming, concealing resentment and bitterness.
Lu Ming walked forward slowly, the snowflakes rustling softly at his feet.
He looked at the gray-robed cultivator who was slumped on the ground and said in a deep voice, "I have no grudge against you, so why do you keep pressuring me?"
"Is the path of cultivation only one of cunning and plunder? You rob me today, aren't you afraid that you'll meet a stronger opponent one day and suffer the same fate?"
"No grudges or hatred? Hahaha..."
The gray-robed cultivator coughed up blood, his laughter sharp and piercing, particularly jarring amidst the vast snowstorm. "So you think you have no grudges against me! You were born in the clouds, how could you understand the struggles of those in the mud!"
He stared intently at Lu Ming, his eyes churning with jealousy and resentment, each word dripping with anguish:
"You are young, yet your cultivation is solid, and your spiritual power far surpasses that of your peers!"
That sword must be at least a high-grade spiritual treasure, right? And with that level of martial arts cultivation, who knows how many rare and precious materials he's devoured!
You people have had complete cultivation techniques since childhood, and have been guided by teachers. Spirit stones, pills, and magic treasures are readily available to you!
The road ahead is wide open, and the path is smooth!
"But what about us independent cultivators?"
His voice suddenly rose, tinged with blood and foam, as he roared, pouring out all the resentment that had been building up in his heart, "We have been rejected by the immortal sects and can only seek our own immortal destiny, like rootless duckweed!"
The techniques are fragments dug out from ancient sites, worthless remnants obtained at the cost of lives!
Each step of spiritual practice involves prostrating oneself, with utmost caution and reverence!
Spirit stones must be snatched from the mouths of demonic beasts, and magical treasures must be fought for in secret realms. Even a single spirit stone could cost you your life!
"The resources of the cultivation world have been monopolized by your sects and aristocratic families!"
If we want that sliver of hope for immortality, what else can we rely on besides fighting, grabbing, and risking our lives?!
This isn't looting; it's our way of survival as independent cultivators! To not fight is to die! To not seize is to not even have the chance to fight!
"Those who kill one person and flee are thieves and bandits; those who kill ten thousand and roam the world freely are the greatest of men. Did these spiritual veins of heaven and earth, these immortal mountains and grotto heavens, belong to you from birth? Didn't you obtain them through murder and plunder?"
The wind and snow swept across the rocky beach, making the wailing sound even louder.
Lu Ming stood there, listening to this desperate accusation.
Lu Ming's anger gradually subsided, replaced by a complex emotion that he couldn't quite explain.
He recalled when he first entered the Taoist Academy. Although he was not from a prominent family, he had a master to rely on and senior brothers and sisters to take good care of him.
Later, he fell into nothingness and was favored by the Martial Ancestor, who granted him unparalleled inheritance and laid an unparalleled foundation for his Dao.
Although his journey was fraught with hardship, he never experienced the despair of having nothing and facing certain death at every turn.
This gray-robed monk was ruthless and intended to plunder; he deserved to die.
But his words were like a knife, slicing open the glamorous facade of the cultivation world and revealing the bloody reality of the lower-level rogue cultivators.
Looking into the other person's despairing, empty eyes, which still burned with resentment, Lu Ming slowly withdrew his hand from the hilt of the Cloud Snow Sword.
Killing him would be as easy as turning one's hand. But what good would killing him do?
In this northern wilderness, in this world, there are countless rogue cultivators like him, struggling in the mire of fate and going mad under the shackles of resources.
He could not forget the wolf girl's questioning in the valley, nor could he forget the lingering disgust he felt when he killed the Black Wind Duo.
He never wanted to get his hands dirty again.
Lu Ming pondered for a long time, but in the end he said nothing. He just gave the gray-robed cultivator a deep look.
In that gaze, there was incomprehension, regret, and a hint of bewilderment at the complexities of human life.
Then, he turned around, touched the ground with his toes, and transformed into a long rainbow, breaking through the swirling snow and flying towards the silhouette of the Xuan Tie behemoth that looked like Wangnan City.
The wind and snow continued, whipping at his clothes, and his silhouette against the vast天地 (heaven and earth) carried a certain heaviness.
This conflict, though blood was not spilled, left a deeper mark on his heart.
He finally understood that the path of cultivation is never just about fighting against fate and destiny.
It also reveals the helplessness of human nature, the cruelty of social classes, and the involuntary actions of countless people being pushed along by fate.
On the rocky beach, only the gray-robed monk lay collapsed on the ground.
He watched the rainbow disappear into the horizon, his eyes first filled with confusion, then with the relief of surviving a disaster.
He felt all his strength drain away, and collapsed in the snow, letting the cold snow fall on his face.
Finally, the confusion in the gray-robed monk's eyes faded, but an unyielding icy coldness remained in his gaze.
It is a numbness to the injustice of fate, a resentment towards those in the clouds, as cold as the northern wilderness, penetrating to the bone marrow.
The wind and snow intensified, burying the bloodstains and fragments on the rocky beach, leaving only a vast expanse of desolate, cold, and silent landscape.