I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

Those three seemingly light words carried more weight than any kick, so heavy that they shattered Huang Ying's heart.

Nie Feng didn't even glance at him.

He turned around, put his hands behind his back, and rose into the air, riding the wind.

His robes fluttered in the evening breeze as he rose higher and farther away, eventually transforming into a streak of blue light that disappeared into the horizon.

Huang Ying lay prone in the pile of rubble, staring in the direction where Nie Feng had disappeared, his mouth agape, seemingly wanting to shout something, but unable to utter a sound.

The rocks beneath him were still warm, the residual heat from the battle just now.

But his heart had turned completely cold.

After this battle, Huang Ying did not die.

But sometimes, living is more painful than dying.

He dragged his broken body, wandering the martial arts world of the Central Plains like a walking corpse.

Although the Jingji sword was pulled back from the rock wall, its sharpness had completely faded, and it was as dull as ashes.

The knife follows its master's heart; when the master's heart is broken, the knife dies along with him.

"You don't deserve it...you don't deserve it..."

Nie Feng's voice echoed in his mind day and night, like a red-hot iron nail driven into the deepest part of his soul, impossible to pull out.

Once the best in Japan, he regarded his sword as his life, severing all emotions and ties in pursuit of the pinnacle of swordsmanship.

And in the end? They didn't even have the right to make their opponent draw their sword.

Absurd! Tragic!

He didn't know how long he had been walking.

It could be a few months, or it could be half a year.

He was dressed in rags, with disheveled hair and a dirty face, and looked no different from a beggar on the street.

The once-unrivaled number one swordsman of Japan is now so powerful that even stray dogs on the roadside won't bother to give him a second glance.

Once, he passed through a small town. The tea stall owner at the town entrance saw him covered in blood and with a fierce face, and was so frightened that he shrank under the table and cried for help.

He wanted to say that he just wanted a bowl of water, but when he opened his mouth, he found that his throat was too hoarse to make a sound.

He hadn't spoken to anyone in a long time.

On another occasion, several bandits stopped him, trying to steal the Jingji from his back.

He didn't even glance at them, and just mechanically continued walking forward.

The bandit leader felt insulted and slashed him on the shoulder with his sword.

The blade shattered into two pieces upon contact with his protective aura.

The bandits were so frightened that they fled their stronghold overnight.

But Huang Ying didn't even notice it.

His eyes could no longer hold anything.

Only Nie Feng's face and those three words appeared repeatedly.

Until one day, he stumbled into a secluded valley.

Three mottled characters are carved on the stone wall at the entrance of the valley: "Spring and Autumn Residence".

The brushstrokes are vigorous and powerful, as if carved by a knife and axe, conveying an indescribable sense of vicissitude.

Huang Ying didn't even want to watch it; he was a walking corpse, so watching anything was the same to him.

But a strong aura rushed towards us.

It was not about killing, nor about tyranny, nor any kind of sword intent he had ever encountered in his life.

It is—"time".

Stepping inside felt like traversing a cycle of rise and fall;

Taking another step feels like another year has passed.

The valley is covered with red leaves, which rustle in the wind. Each leaf seems to hold a story of the past, and each breeze whispers the passing years.

Even more bizarrely, the moss under his feet would turn from tender green to withered yellow within a few breaths after each step he took, and then sprout new green again—life, death, decay, and prosperity were condensed into something that could be observed with the naked eye in this valley.

There were no insects chirping or birds singing in the valley; even the sound of the wind seemed to have been deliberately slowed down by some force.

The entire valley was as quiet as a giant, slowly breathing living thing.

Huang Ying stopped in his tracks.

Those things that had been broken in his heart for almost half a year—

The restlessness, despair, resentment, and unwillingness—all gradually subsided under the influence of this atmosphere.

Like a colossal wave surging into the depths of the ocean, it was silent and undisturbed.

"This is……"

Huang Ying's cloudy eyes suddenly brightened, regaining their long-lost clarity.

He was a swordsman, a swordsman who was obsessed with swordsmanship his whole life.

Even if one's heart is broken and one's spirit is shattered, the ingrained feeling of being cut into one's bones cannot be faked.

This is no ordinary valley atmosphere—it's the intent of a sword!

With heaven and earth as the scroll, and time as the blade.

This kind of sword intent is no longer about "using" a sword, but rather the entire person and the entire valley have transformed into an invisible sword.

"The martial arts world of the Central Plains... actually harbors such a figure?!"

The fire that had been dormant in Huang Ying's heart for half a year suddenly reignited.

He staggered along, drawn by the sword's intent, deeper into the woods, parting layers of red leaves and vines—

suddenly see the light.

Nestled among the mountains, a clear pool, as smooth as a mirror, reflects the crimson leaves covering the hillsides, a scene of breathtaking beauty.

A small boat floats on the lake, with a lone figure sitting at the bow.

Wearing a straw raincoat and a bamboo hat, holding a long fishing rod without a hook, he fishes amidst the mountains and rivers.

The person didn't move, the water didn't move, and even the wind seemed to have stopped beside him.

He became one with the mountains, the water, and the crimson leaves, indistinguishable from the knife—or rather, he was the knife, and the knife was him.

Huang Ying stood on the shore, her breath caught in her throat, her hand holding Jing Ji trembling uncontrollably.

What shocked him even more was—

The Jingji on his back, the Jingji that had been dead for half a year, suddenly emitted a low hum.

The faint glow that had lingered on the blade for half a year began to shine again, faint yet real.

The knife is screaming!

It is responding to the sword intent of the man in the heart of the lake!

Huang Ying reached out and gripped Jing Ji behind her back. A long-lost tremor came from her palm, and the faint light that had reappeared on the blade shone between her fingers.

His eyes suddenly stung with tears—it had been half a year, and he thought the knife that had been with him his whole life had died along with him.

Unexpectedly, it was just waiting—waiting for an opponent worthy of its reawakening to appear.

It's not fear.

It's that resonance deep within the soul when you encounter what you've been searching for your whole life.

A lone boat in the heart of the lake, a lone fisherman in a straw raincoat.

A dark blade on the shore, a down-on-his-luck man.

Huang Ying's gaze pierced through the lake, fixed intently on the back of the lone fisherman on the boat.

Although they had not yet clashed, the aura within a hundred feet radius had already solidified into an iron plate.

The air was filled with a sense of ancient and weathered power, so heavy that even the wind could not move it.

Huang Ying stood on the shore, dressed in rags, with disheveled hair and a dirty face, looking exactly like a beggar disciple.

But the gravel beneath his feet creaked under the pressure of his inner energy, and fine cracks radiated from the ground—

Six months of living like a zombie did not diminish his terrifying skills.

My heart is broken, but my bones are still strong.

Your heart is broken.

After a long while, the lone fisherman slowly spoke, his voice like a worn-out ancient bell, deep and resonant, revealing an indifference that had seen through all the affairs of the world.

He didn't even turn around, still staring at a fishing rod without a hook on the water.

His fingers rested lightly on the rod, his index finger tapping the rod section slowly and deliberately, each tap perfectly timed with the spreading ripples on the lake surface—as if he were conversing with heaven and earth, completely oblivious to the visitors behind him.

"When the mind is in turmoil, even the knife becomes broken."

"You're no match for me in your current state. Let's go."

You are being asked to leave!

These few simple words carried an undeniable air of authority.

Huang Ying's lips twitched suddenly.

go?

A surge of rage suddenly erupted in his eyes, which had been dead for half a year—

For the first time since entering the valley, he displayed a human-like expression.

He admits defeat to Nie Feng!

After all, he was the renowned Wind God, an unparalleled powerhouse who once danced with gods and demons.

Although losing to him was humiliating, it was at least somewhat justifiable.

But why did this old man fishing in the countryside, without even glancing at him, conclude that he was not qualified?

"If I'm not worthy to be Nie Feng's opponent, am I not even worthy to be yours?"

Huang Ying gripped Jing Ji tightly, his knuckles cracking, his voice hoarse and trembling with anger.

Sensing the fluctuation of its master's emotions, the Jingji on its back emitted a low hum, and the eerie light that had been dim for half a year on the blade flickered twice.

"Who exactly are you?!"

The lone angler paused for a moment as he tapped his fishing rod.

It only paused for a moment.

Then, he sighed softly and finally turned his head slowly.

Beneath the straw hat was a resolute and weathered face.

His eyes were as deep as two bottomless ancient pools, containing endless changes of time.

He looked Huang Ying up and down—

His gaze lingered on Jing Ji for a moment, then swept over Huang Ying's tattered clothes and disheveled hair, finally settling on his eyes.

I watched for two breaths.

"The sword intent isn't completely dead yet." He seemed to be talking to himself, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

After saying that, he stopped looking at Huang Ying and turned back to stare at the water.

He didn't answer a single word.

He didn't even bother to listen to Huang Ying's questions.

Huang Ying's lips began to tremble violently.

It's always like this.

It's that same arrogant, disdainful attitude he always has.

Just like Nie Feng.

No—even worse than Nie Feng.

Nie Feng at least moved his leg, at least he fought with him.

The old man in front of him wouldn't even give him a second glance.

"Not going to answer?"

Huang Ying vigorously wiped her face, then swept the messy hair that covered half of her face back, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes that gleamed with a fierce light.

His voice was hoarse from anger, like sandpaper scraping iron.

"I don't care who you are—I want to see just how much you're worth!!"

The aura within Huang Ying's body suddenly surged.

"Clang—!!"

The sword was drawn from its sheath in a startling silence.

The piercing sound of the blade instantly shattered the tranquility of the lake, and the water rippled outwards like startled fish.

The eerie light on the blade suddenly surged the moment it was drawn from its sheath—as if even the blade was giving its master a final roar.

The lone angler's fingers, which had been tapping the rod, stopped once again.

This time, the pause lasted a moment longer than the last.

He turned his head slightly, and in the shadow of his straw hat, his lips moved almost imperceptibly, whether in a sigh or in a whisper.

Huang Ying held the sword with both hands, his life essence burning wildly as if it had been ignited. He poured all his remaining true energy, sword intent, resentment, and anger into this one strike.

"Seven Shocking Changes!!"

That was his strongest move yet.

Although it was far less destructive than in its heyday, this strike contained something new—a resolute determination to die for the cause.

Seven golden blade beams intertwined and converged, condensing into a ferocious, menacing dragon that roared across the lake.

Wherever it passed, the lake water was cleaved open into a deep channel several meters wide, with towering waves surging wildly to both sides.

This raging dragon, with its destructive power, hurtled straight at the small boat in the middle of the lake!