The monk's gaze lingered on Zixuan for a moment longer.
Then he exhaled softly, as if setting aside a passing thought.
"Put that aside," the monk said calmly. "What are you here for?"
There was curiosity in his voice.
But beneath it… something else.
Something that almost sounded like he already knew the answer.
Zixuan didn't hesitate.
His grin widened, sharp and excited, like a man who had finally reached the end of a long journey.
"I want to fight you!"
His voice echoed across the mountain.
The wind rushed between the jagged peaks, carrying the words far into the valleys below.
For a brief moment, the monk said nothing.
Then, without another word, he slowly stepped forward.
His posture shifted.
One hand closed into a firm fist.
The other opened calmly, his palm facing outward in a defensive stance.
It was simple.
Almost ordinary.
But something about it felt… complete.
Balanced.
Perfect.
Zixuan immediately noticed.
His eyes sharpened.
This man…
He's serious.
The monk lifted his chin slightly and gestured with his head toward something behind Zixuan.
"You see that tree over there?"
Zixuan glanced over his shoulder.
The tree that had been struck by the thrown rock still stood behind him.
But it looked wrong.
Its trunk wobbled slightly, the bark rippling unnaturally as if the wood had been turned soft.
It swayed weakly despite the wind barely touching it.
"Yeah?" Zixuan said, turning back. "Why?"
The monk spoke casually.
"That's my technique."
Zixuan frowned slightly.
"My technique allows me to see the weakness of every single thing."
He paused.
"Living… or non-living."
For a brief moment, silence hung between them.
Zixuan's eyes widened slightly.
That was not a small claim.
Not at all.
But despite the shock, his expression quickly settled back into calm confidence.
"So?" Zixuan said.
He rolled his shoulders, loosening his body.
"You can see my weaknesses?"
The monk nodded gently.
"I can."
For most people, hearing something like that would create fear.
Hesitation.
Doubt.
But Zixuan…
Zixuan laughed.
A loud, excited laugh that echoed across the mountain.
"I don't care!"
His hand tightened around the handle of his sword.
"Let's fight!"
The monk nodded once.
No hesitation.
No dramatic movement.
He simply stood there, maintaining his stance.
Waiting.
Patiently.
As if he had all the time in the world.
Zixuan moved first.
The ground beneath his feet cracked slightly as he launched forward.
His body shot across the rocky surface with explosive speed.
The distance between them vanished in an instant.
His sword flashed.
Steel cut through the air with terrifying precision.
But the monk moved.
Not fast.
Not violently.
Just… enough.
His body shifted slightly to the side.
The blade passed him by.
Zixuan didn't stop.
His body twisted mid-motion, delivering a powerful kick toward the monk's ribs.
The monk raised his open palm.
Bang.
The impact echoed across the mountain.
Shockwaves rippled through the air.
Dust lifted from the stone beneath their feet.
Then—
The monk pushed forward.
Zixuan slid back several meters, boots scraping against the rock.
His grin widened.
"Yes…"
His voice trembled with excitement.
"Yes…!"
The fight exploded into motion.
Blow after blow.
Strike after strike.
Zixuan's sword danced through the air like lightning.
Each swing carried the weight of decades of battle experience.
Each movement was supported by his mastery of Tiao Shen, Tiao Xi, and Tiao Xin.
His body moved perfectly.
His breathing flowed like a calm river.
His mind remained completely still.
Yet—
The monk matched him.
No weapon.
No armor.
Only his hands.
He moved through Zixuan's attacks with terrifying precision.
Each strike from Zixuan was avoided by a fraction of an inch.
Each counterattack from the monk landed exactly where it needed to.
The sound of their clash echoed across the mountains.
Boom.
Crack.
Thud.
Stone shattered beneath their feet.
Loose rocks tumbled down the cliffs.
Birds scattered into the sky.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
Minutes stretched into hours.
But neither of them stopped.
Zixuan attacked endlessly.
Sword strikes.
Palm strikes.
Kicks.
Elbows.
Every technique he had learned over decades.
But the monk remained calm.
Every time Zixuan moved—
The monk already knew where the attack would land.
He struck joints.
Pressure points.
Weak spots in muscle and bone.
Precise.
Efficient.
Merciless.
Eventually…
Zixuan's sword cracked.
The blade shattered during a violent clash against the monk's bare palm.
Fragments of metal scattered across the stone ground.
Zixuan staggered backward.
His breathing had grown heavy now.
Blood dripped from countless wounds across his body.
Each injury had been placed perfectly.
A strike to the shoulder.
A blow to the ribs.
A precise hit near the spine.
His body trembled.
His legs finally gave out.
He collapsed onto the ground.
The cold stone pressed against his back.
Above him, the sky stretched endlessly.
The monk stood nearby.
Unharmed.
Not even a scratch.
Zixuan tried to move.
His fingers twitched slightly.
But his body no longer responded.
His vision blurred.
Footsteps approached.
The monk stopped beside him.
For a moment, the old man simply looked down at the fallen warrior.
His expression wasn't cold.
Nor proud.
If anything…
It almost looked nostalgic.
Then he spoke.
Quietly.
"You were once like me."
Zixuan's chest rose weakly.
Then—
It stopped.
His breathing faded.
His heart fell silent.
And just like that…
Zixuan died.
Darkness swallowed everything.
No sound.
No light.
No sensation.
Only emptiness.
Then—
Zixuan suddenly sat up.
His lungs filled with air violently.
He gasped.
Confusion flooded his mind instantly.
This wasn't the mountain.
The cold wind was gone.
The smell of stone and dust had disappeared.
Instead…
He felt warmth.
Softness beneath him.
Zixuan slowly looked around.
He was sitting in a bed.
A comfortable one.
Warm blankets surrounded him.
Sunlight slipped gently through a nearby window.
"What…?"
His voice came out weak.
Unfamiliar.
His thoughts spiraled.
Why am I here?
Where's the mountain?
Where's the monk?
His body felt strange.
Lighter.
Weaker.
His muscles lacked the strength he had built through decades of training.
His hands trembled slightly.
Something's wrong…
Suddenly—
Bang!
A door he hadn't even noticed burst open.
A man and a woman rushed inside.
Their faces were filled with worry.
The woman reached him first.
"Ohh Chin Xian! We're so glad you're okay!"
Before Zixuan could react, she wrapped her arms tightly around him.
The warmth of the sudden embrace shocked him completely.
The man stood beside her, relief visible on his face.
Zixuan froze.
His mind struggled to process what was happening.
"Wh—who are you?"
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Both of them went completely still.
The woman slowly pulled back.
Her eyes widened with fear.
"Wh-what…?"
She looked toward the man nervously.
"That head injury must have had a lasting effect…"
Zixuan tried to stand up, but the moment he shifted his weight, his legs felt weak.
The woman quickly stopped him.
"Y-you need to rest!" she said urgently.
"You just woke up!"
But Zixuan barely heard her.
His attention had shifted.
Across the room—
A polished surface reflected faintly in the sunlight.
A mirror.
He stared at it.
Something felt wrong.
Deeply wrong.
"G-give me a mirror!" Zixuan demanded suddenly.
The man quickly grabbed a small mirror from a nearby table and handed it over.
Zixuan's hands trembled slightly as he took it.
Slowly…
He raised it.
His eyes met the reflection.
And his heart nearly stopped again.
The face staring back at him…
Was not his.
"T-thats not me…!"
His thoughts screamed inside his mind.
The man in the mirror was younger.
Much younger.
His features were unfamiliar.
His body smaller.
Weaker.
Zixuan's breathing became uneven.
His mind raced wildly, trying to understand what had happened.