I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

A desolate, lonely mountain; a dilapidated ancient temple.

A chilling wind rushed in through the shattered windowpanes.

In the cold night wind, a mournful erhu song, "The Lonely Star Sings to the Moon," drifted faintly, like a lament, as if thousands of lonely ghosts were howling in the desolate night.

A small bonfire struggled to stay lit in the center of the temple. Its orange flames flickered and danced violently in the cold wind, casting three silhouettes of different expressions onto the mottled mud wall, barely dispelling the bone-chilling cold that seeped into one's very bones.

Nie Feng lay dead on his back deep in the pile of withered, yellow grass.

His eyes were tightly closed, his face was as pale as weathered paper, and his chest heaved very weakly and irregularly.

Although the fatal wound on his forehead, which had been violently cleaved open by the domineering internal force, had formed a thick scab, it still oozed a chilling, eerie dark red.

Beneath her skin seemed to lurk a ferocious beast ready to pounce at any moment, like a demonic eye of the underworld that had been forcibly sewn shut, ready to burst open again at any time and turn the world into a hell.

Bu Jingyun pressed his back firmly against the broken stone pillar at the temple gate and slumped down on the ground.

His arms were wrapped in thick, coarse bandages that oozed a glaring crimson blood, and his expression remained as cold and stern as an unyielding, eternal ice.

Only in the deepest recesses of his cold, deep eyes lay an extreme weariness that could not be dispelled after experiencing life-and-death ordeals.

His cold gaze occasionally swept over the unconscious Junior Brother Feng, a barely perceptible trace of deep sorrow and concern flashing in the depths of his eyes.

An anonymous man, dressed in plain clothes, sat cross-legged beside the campfire.

The ancient erhu in his arms seemed to weep softly from his fingertips, its desolate notes accompanied by the chilling wind and snow, drifting into the endless dark night.

He exuded no sharp edge befitting a martial arts legend; only the ancient, rustic zither music carried an endless compassion born of a disillusionment with the world.

"Master, why hasn't Junior Brother Feng woken up yet?"

Bu Jingyun was the first to break the deathly silence of the dilapidated temple. His voice was dry and hoarse, as if cut by a dull knife, revealing the deep weakness after a series of deadly battles.

The nameless man dropped the withered branch in his hand and let out a heavy sigh as the autumn wind swept through the air.

His deep gaze was fixed on the unconscious junior, his expression extremely solemn:

"Although you shattered the demonic eye on his forehead and dispelled the demonic flames on his body, this demonic nature has already seeped into his bones and is intertwined and merged with the mad blood of the Qilin in his body."

"He is like a dormant volcano now, seemingly calm, but actually turbulent undercurrents."

"Once you wake up, the slightest mistake will send you back down the path of evil, and it will be even more dangerous than before."

Is there a solution?

Bu Jingyun's sword-like eyebrows were tightly furrowed, causing a sharp pain in his injured left arm, but he still pressed on with urgent questions, each word uttered through gritted teeth.

"Disaster."

The nameless man uttered an extremely heavy word, shook his head slightly, his face full of vicissitudes and sorrow.

"Ordinary Buddhist and Taoist practices are no longer sufficient to suppress such demonic nature."

"Although I was able to temporarily protect his heart meridian with the Qi of Ten Thousand Swords Returning to the Origin, I could not eradicate the demonic root that had penetrated deep into his bones."

Bu Jingyun clenched his right fist tightly, his knuckles turning white from the excessive force, and the veins on the back of his hand bulging like writhing dragons.

"Is there really no other way?"

Wuming fell into a long silence, his deep gaze fixed on the impenetrable darkness outside the temple.

Listening to the howling wind, he slowly said:

"Senior Jiang taught me a technique called 'Demon Heart Technique.' As long as Feng'er practices this technique, he will be able to completely control the demonic energy within his body. The only solution now is to take him north."

"Heading north?"

Bu Jingyun was slightly taken aback, a ripple flashing in his cold eyes.

"Indeed. Senior Jiang Chen once said that this technique requires the use of the coldest substances in the world to suppress the demonic fire."

In the depths of his nameless, calm eyes, a rare and resolute determination flashed.

"Looking across the world, perhaps only in the frigid lands of the far north can one find the legendary ten-thousand-year-old ice."

"Though it's like finding a needle in a haystack, it's the only way out."

Bu Jingyun fell into a long silence, his cold gaze fixed intently on his unconscious junior brother lying in the haystack, as if trying to imprint the image of their past battles side by side into the deepest part of his consciousness.

He then struggled to stand upright, his blood-soaked body supported by the rough stone pillar.

Although his body swayed slightly due to severe internal injuries, his iron spine remained as upright as a lone sword drawn from its sheath, piercing the sky.

"Now that Junior Brother Feng has Master to take care of him, I can rest assured."

Having said that, without any further hesitation, he abruptly turned his back and prepared to leave.

"Jingyun, where are you going?"

Wuming did not stop him, but asked in a calm and gentle tone.

Bu Jingyun stopped staggering, but did not turn around.

His cold gaze fixed on the raging wind and snow outside the temple, his voice as frigid as the northern ice, carrying an undeniable air of solitude.

"The world is vast, and there is always a place for me, Bu Jingyun, to find refuge."

"Since Junior Brother Feng is no longer in danger, there is no point in me staying here."

In truth, Bu Jingyun's heart was as clear as a mirror.

When fortunes converge, destinies can be both mutually supportive and mutually destructive.

At this moment, my junior brother's demonic roots have not been eradicated and he urgently needs to recuperate. If he is forced to stay by my side, the mysterious forces of wind and clouds will pull and entangle him, which could easily ignite his overwhelming demonic nature again, causing nothing but harm.

Not to mention the life-or-death battle on the cliff top, which made him realize that the Overlord Sword's edge was still lacking in refinement and had not yet reached the supreme realm of being invincible.

In the vast and boundless world of martial arts, there is also one's own solitary path of martial arts that must be pursued alone.

"Master, take care."

Bu Jingyun uttered four extremely resolute words, dragging his badly injured and bloodied body, and resolutely stepped into the boundless wind and snow without looking back.

The solitary, lonely figure in black, like an unyielding, peerless sword, gradually disappeared into the raging wind and snow, finally melting completely into the vast night, leaving no trace.

Wuming gazed silently in the direction where Bu Jingyun had completely disappeared, a rare and intense look of admiration and expectation flashing in his deep eyes.

"When the winds of change meet, they swim in shallow waters... Now that the winds of change have dispersed, perhaps this is just the beginning of their true transformation."

At dawn the next day, the snow had just stopped.

Nameless bent down and carried the still-sleeping Nie Feng on his back, braving the biting frost and crushing the thick snow, trekking towards the bitterly cold land of the far north.

The ancient temple returned to absolute silence, with only a pile of cold, burnt-out ashes swirling desolately in the cold wind, silently telling the story of last night's life-and-death farewells and the beginning of a new journey.

Misty rain in Jiangnan, the village of Bujia.

The setting sun, like blood, stains the sky, and wisps of smoke rise from the farmhouses, exuding a secluded tranquility that is completely different from the ruthless world of martial arts.

In a quiet and elegant farmhouse courtyard, Chu Chu was carefully bending over, gently scattering grains to feed a few speckled chickens, while Du Gu Meng lent a helping hand.

Although Chu Chu was heavily pregnant and her movements were slow, her brows were filled with the gentle tenderness of a mother, while in Du Gu Meng's eyes lay a deep and unyielding longing for her beloved far away.

Suddenly, a series of extremely familiar footsteps, sounding endlessly weary yet still steady and powerful, pierced through the twilight and reached my ears.

Her delicate body trembled violently, and all the grains in her palm spilled out.

She suddenly looked up, her eyes wide with disbelief, staring straight at the wooden gate hidden among the green bamboo.

Outside the half-open bamboo door, a tall and upright figure stood quietly, bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun.

Despite being covered in wind and frost and dressed in rags, who in the world, apart from that extraordinary man named Bu Jingyun, could possess such a lofty and aloof demeanor that haunted her dreams?

"Brother Yun... Brother Yun..."

Chu Chu's eyes instantly turned red, and hot tears welled up in her eyes. Like a fledgling swallow returning to its nest, she stumbled and fell into that broad and strong chest.

"Brother Yun!"

Seeing him all alone, Dugu Meng felt a sudden pang of anxiety and took two steps forward, her voice trembling as she anxiously asked,

"Where's Feng? Why didn't Nie Feng come back with you?"

Bu Jingyun gently embraced the sobbing Chu Chu in his arms, looked up at the terrified Dugu Meng, and answered in a deep voice:

"Junior Brother Feng has deep-rooted demonic energy. Nameless has already led him all the way north to find the extreme northern ice to suppress the demonic energy within his body."

Upon hearing that Nie Feng was not only alive but had also traveled to a harsh and cold land, Dugu Meng bit her lip tightly, and a fierce, resolute blaze instantly ignited in her eyes.

Without the slightest hesitation, she turned and rushed out of the gate, deftly leaping onto a fast horse tethered outside the courtyard.

With a clear, long neigh, it vanished into the distance, leaving behind only the solitary figure of a fierce woman who, in pursuit of her destined lover, would follow him through thick and thin, even unto death.

In the deepest shadows of the mottled corner where the last rays of the setting sun could not reach, a tall, lonely figure, as still as an inanimate object, took in the entire courtyard filled with long-awaited reunions.

The knuckles of his hands, with their distinct joints, were so strong that they almost crushed his palms.

He witnessed the woman he loved throw herself into Bu Jingyun's arms without a second thought, and saw her pure face bloom with an extreme smile of happiness that she had never shown to him before.

Jian Chen felt as if countless bitter herbs had been overturned in his heart, and an indescribable, desolate bitterness, like being pierced by a thousand arrows, welled up within him.

He gave a bitter smile, his eyes filled with utter desolation and utter despair.

He gazed longingly, with extreme greed and despair, at the beautiful figure that had captivated him.

Then, turning away sadly, he dragged his desolate and lonely shadow and silently disappeared into the shadows of the bamboo forest as dusk settled.

The word "love" is most deadly, capable of killing without leaving a trace.

This deep, unyielding bitterness and obsession could only be swallowed down with blood, turning into a desolate sigh unknown to anyone.

As Bu Jingyun tightly embraced his frail and loving wife, who was sobbing uncontrollably, he suddenly felt a faint, inexplicable chill run down his spine.

It seemed as if a hidden gaze was secretly watching from the shadows.

He immediately turned his head sharply, his cold and sharp gaze piercing through the distance like two swords.

However, there was nothing in sight except for a few withered yellow leaves that swirled forlornly in the bleak autumn wind, adding to the desolation.

"Brother Yun, what's wrong?"

Chu Chu keenly noticed that her husband's muscles tensed up instantly, and immediately raised her tear-streaked face to ask softly.

Bu Jingyun suppressed his murderous aura, a faint, deep thought flashing across his cold eyes.

Then, a rare tenderness softened his otherwise tough exterior, and his rough, large hands gently stroked his beloved wife's cascading black hair.

"It's nothing, maybe... the wind is too strong."

For months, amidst the vast snowfields and the sandstorms of the borderlands, a steadfast figure has been tirelessly traveling through the bitter winds and snow.

Since parting ways in Jiangnan, Dugu Meng rode alone northward, traversing every glacial and desolate region of the far north, yet she could never find even a trace of that man.

After a fruitless search, exhausted and filled with longing, she finally chose to return to the homeland that held Nie Feng's deepest bonds—Nie Family Village.

Dozens of ordinary families built their houses by the water, where the sounds of chickens and dogs could be heard from one another.

Dugu Meng then temporarily resided in the Nie family's ancestral home, which had weathered many storms.

Whenever the blood-red setting sun casts its slanting rays, she sits quietly on the mottled, old threshold, like a statue waiting for her husband.

"Miss Meng, these are freshly laid red-skinned eggs. You are a young lady living alone in this old house, so you must take good care of your health."

A kind-hearted, simple peasant woman carried a bamboo basket and generously stuffed some dry food and other items through the wooden gate.

Dugu Meng, dressed in a pristine white robe, her unadorned beauty, though weathered and worn, still gently nodded and thanked each of her neighbors.

After the eager villagers dispersed, she gently stroked the old, unrepaired blue shirt in her hand with her slender fingertips.

He slowly raised his head, his gaze piercing through the vast Gobi Desert where sand and stones flew, and fixed on the winding, desolate dirt road at the entrance of the village.

Let the howling wind sweep by, ruffling the disheveled black hair at her temples.

She waited there, in this familiar place, for that man who was like the wind to return, no matter how time changed or how far apart they were.

After the fierce battle at Xuefeng, Feng and Yun completely disappeared and retreated into the mortal world.

The unparalleled legend of the two peerless heroes has only grown stronger and has been passed down through generations in the vast martial arts world.

Even more ambitious and capable individuals, expending enormous human and material resources, forcibly carved two towering stone statues that reached into the clouds on the collapsed and fractured ruins of the snow-capped peak, based on the unparalleled divine charm of the two figures.

The stone statue on the left has wildly dancing hair, its hands raised high as it roars angrily towards the sky.

The unparalleled demonic power is vividly portrayed, possessing a terrifying ferocity that could cleave the heavens in two with a single stroke;

The stone statue on the right has its tattered cloak billowing, and its single palm stands domineeringly, looking down upon all living beings.

His aloofness and cold arrogance are chilling and penetrating, and he possesses the supreme divine power to crush the vast land with a single palm strike.

Two silent stone statues have stood facing each other for a long time across a collapsed cliff.

Although it is an inanimate object, in this ancient and desolate place, it exudes an unparalleled pride that is enough to make all heroes bow down.

Occasionally, a brave martial arts hero will climb over the cliff to pay his respects here.

Gazing at the sharp blade and domineering palm strikes deeply etched into the cliff face, I painstakingly try to comprehend the remaining martial arts essence amidst the biting wind and snow.

The wind howled, and every shocking crack in the remaining ruins seemed to eternally tell the story of that earth-shattering, soul-stirring life-or-death battle.

Though the storm has passed, the legend lives on.