I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

step.

step.

Another step.

There are no movement techniques or light-footed skills.

It seems that as long as you walk slowly and leisurely enough, the hundreds of feet of steep cliffs will naturally make way for you.

When we arrived at the mountain gate, it was already past noon.

The snow reflected a dazzling white light under the sunlight.

The mountain gate of Tianwaitian is naturally formed and unadorned.

There was no plaque, no flags, no gatekeepers, and not even a sound of human presence.

Only two black jade pillars rise from the ground, standing facing each other on the left and right.

The three crimson characters "Tianwaitian" are deeply carved into the stone, with vigorous strokes that exude a majestic aura that has withstood the test of time.

It stands quietly atop the Tianshan Mountains.

Silence, no one.

It was so empty that it seemed like the last place in the world that had been forgotten by the world.

Xiao Sanxiao stood still in front of the mountain gate.

He tilted his head back and looked at the three characters from left to right, then from right to left, for quite a while.

The wind whistled in my ears, and snowflakes pelted my face.

He squinted, letting the cold shavings patter against his face, showing no sign of annoyance.

There is only a kind of nonchalant focus.

Like a seasoned expert who frequents the streets and alleys, he spotted an unusual item on an ordinary stall in the market and was debating whether to turn it over to check the inscription on the bottom.

a long time.

He looked away, tapped his palm with the gourd, and smiled.

It's a third tone—ha, ha, ha.

Unhurried and gentle, each sound was mellow and resonant, carrying an indescribable and playful quality.

It rolled around in front of the empty mountain gate and then disappeared with the wind.

After laughing, he looked up again and looked at the three words once more.

This time, it's not just a cursory glance.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze slowly sliding along the first horizontal stroke of the character "天" (sky), lingering for a long time between the left and right strokes.

The characters are good.

The brushstrokes are fluid and powerful, each engraving extending more than three inches deep.

These are not marks left by chisels or axes, but rather the work of a master craftsman who carved them from a distance.

Based on this skill alone, the person who wrote the inscription must be at least a master of the highest level.

But what Xiao Sanxiao really cared about wasn't this internal strength.

Rather, it is something hidden beneath one's inner strength.

Between the horizontal and vertical strokes, a faint, ethereal energy seems to flow—

A deeper, almost instinctive, true meaning of martial arts.

It was as if the person who wrote the inscription poured all their understanding of martial arts into these three characters at the moment of practicing their skills.

Xiao Sanxiao's gaze lingered on the last stroke of the character "外".

That final stroke was extremely sharp, resembling a precipice, yet it suddenly paused at the point where it was about to end, the brushstroke abruptly withdrawing.

The interplay between control and release subtly embodies the martial arts principle that "the intention may be exhausted even when the momentum is exhausted."

"That's interesting."

Xiao San smacked his lips, as if he had savored a good sip of wine.

"The person who wrote the inscription is a master."

The wind blew again.

Xiao Sanxiao withdrew his gaze and looked around.

Beyond the mountain gate lies a snow-covered stone path that winds its way into the depths of the clouds.

No one came out to greet them.

He waited for a while.

I waited a while longer.

The mountain wind howled, and snowflakes fluttered in the air. The vast Tianwaitian Mountain Gate remained deserted.

Xiao Sanxiao scratched the back of his head and muttered something.

"No one's here to greet us... The rules at Tianwaitian are quite strict."

He wasn't annoyed.

He brushed the snow off his clothes and stepped into the mountain gate.

After crossing the mountain gate, Xiao Sanxiao walked all the way inside.

There were no human voices, no footsteps, and not even the chirping of birds could be heard.

The mountain paths of Tianwaitian are unusually quiet.

Snow weighs down the green pines, wind swirls around the cliff peaks, and the wide stone steps stretch into the depths under the vast expanse of white snow, like a long road with no end in sight.

Xiao Sanxiao walked slowly, his hands behind his back, looking around as he went.

Passing by a stone pavilion, he stopped and touched the pillars—a cold touch came from his fingertips, the stone surface was as smooth as a mirror, without even a trace of weathering roughness.

He raised an eyebrow and took a few more steps forward.

There was an old pine tree by the roadside, its branches gnarled and twisted, its crown covered with a thick layer of snow. Judging from its age, it must have been at least four or five hundred years old.

Xiao Sanxiao casually brushed aside the drooping pine branches, and snowflakes fell all over his shoulder, but he didn't care. He just took another sip from the gourd.

At first, I didn't think much of it.

It's just a sect built on a snow-capped mountain.

Although the palace was ancient and simple, the stone steps were wide, and the pines and cypresses were vigorous, he had seen too many of these things.

Over four thousand years, from the ancient capitals of the Qin and Han dynasties to the desolate deserts, from the fairy islands of the East Sea to the snow-capped mountains of the Western Regions—

What kind of mountain gate haven't I entered?

What kind of reclusive master hasn't he met?

Even the most magnificent scenery becomes just so-so after four thousand years.

However, the further they went, the slower Xiao Sanxiao's pace unconsciously slowed down.

He frowned; something was wrong.

It wasn't murderous intent.

The path to the Heavenly Mountain was spotless, without even a single ant, so there was no hint of murderous intent.

It's not a formation.

With his keen eyesight, if someone had set up some kind of mysterious formation here, he couldn't possibly miss it.

But something just felt off.

Xiao Sanxiao stopped and closed his eyes.

He took a deep breath.

The mountain wind rushed into my nostrils, icy cold, carrying the crisp scent of pine needles and snow.

But beneath that crisp, clear air, he sensed it.

The natural energy of this place—

Its flow, its pulse, its breath are all completely different from those outside the mountain gate.

The Qi (vital energy) of the Tianshan Mountains outside is wild.

The snow wind howled, the spiritual energy scattered, and the world was vast and disordered, which was the ruggedness and grandeur that nature should have.

But once you step into the realm of the Outer Heavens, that vastness disappears.

Instead, there is an extremely steady, almost rhythmic pulse.

It's as if an invisible heart is slowly beating in the deepest part of this mountain region, gathering, converging, and reshaping all the scattered spiritual energy in the world into a perfectly self-consistent whole.

Xiao Sanxiao opened his eyes.

A rare hint of solemnity appeared in his cloudy old eyes.

This was the first time he had ever felt "unable to see through" a place after stepping into it.

For Xiao Sanxiao, those three words were more jarring than any killing move.

He raised his right hand.

With a gentle flick of his fingers, his thumb brushed across the knuckles of his index, middle, and ring fingers in turn, each movement extremely slow and light, as if plucking an invisible string.

The art of divination.

People only know that "Xiao Sanxiao" plays around in life, acts unpredictably, and turns laughter, anger and scolding into literature.

Few people know that the reason he was able to single-handedly orchestrate events for thousands of years and remain invincible in this chaotic world was never due to his martial arts skills.

Rather, it is this extraordinary art of peering into the heavens, probing secrets, and deducing cause and effect.

After four thousand years of study and refinement, he has cultivated this art of divination to a near-perfect state.

The rise and fall of dynasties, the life and death calamities of grandmasters and elders, and the ebb and flow of power in the martial arts world—

Wherever there is a trace of energy, it is like an unfolding scroll in his eyes, revealing every detail and leaving nothing to hide.

In his entire life, he has never failed in his divinations, nor has he ever suffered any backlash.

There wasn't even the slightest obstacle.

At this moment, Xiao Sanxiao slowly probed the depths of the mountain's energy beneath his feet with his divine sense.

The divine sense, like an invisible thread, slowly extends along the energy veins and patterns of the heavens and earth, towards the source of the pulse.

Closer, closer.

He almost touched the outer edge of that "heart"—

boom!!

An invisible force suddenly exploded!

Like a bolt of lightning striking from the sky, it struck his consciousness back from the opposite direction!

Xiao Sanxiao suddenly staggered back half a step.

A metallic, sweet taste welled up in my throat; I couldn't suppress it, nor did I want to.

He spat out a mouthful of blood onto the snow.

Crimson blood fell onto the pristine white snow, the warmth melting a small ring of snowflakes around it, like a startling red plum blossom blooming on white silk.

He looked down at the blood-red plum blossom and remained silent for a long time.

The mountain wind howled past, making his patched coarse cloth robe flutter in the wind, and a few strands of white hair fell across his forehead, covering half of his face.

He slowly raised his head, and his eyes changed.

The smile vanished completely from those cloudy old eyes that always held a hint of a smile and a touch of nonchalance.

Instead, a serious expression, rarely seen in his life, appeared.

He had calculated the fates of emperors and generals.

He had foreseen the calamities that would befall the grandmasters and elders.

He even calculated the great changes in the world, such as the rotation of heaven and earth and the transformation of the sea into mulberry fields.

Never failed.

At that moment—his consciousness was blasted back, accompanied by a mouthful of blood.

Xiao Sanxiao wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, clutching the gourd, unable to calm down for a long time.

The answer was already clearly laid out before him.

The energy contained in this place has exceeded the limit of what he can perceive.

So powerful that even his divination skills couldn't get close.

He was so powerful that even the Heavenly Dao itself wouldn't allow him to peek even once.

That wasn't some kind of mountain-protecting formation, nor was it a sky-covering technique deliberately set up by some master.

Instead, it was someone—

Its own fortune alone is so vast and powerful that it can obscure the secrets of heaven.

In other words.

There is someone here who is even stronger than him.

Xiao Sanxiao stood on the ski slope, next to an old pine tree bent over with its weight, and at his feet were blood plum blossoms that had not yet solidified.

He looked up at the sky.

The wind tore a narrow gap in the clouds, letting in a sliver of sunlight that shone on his wrinkled face.

He suddenly realized that this road was much more interesting than he had expected.

His lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh, but he ultimately didn't.

He took another sip of wine from the gourd, wiped his mouth, and continued walking into the mountains.

They walked for about half a cup of tea's time.

The ski slope became increasingly deep and secluded, the cliffs on both sides became increasingly narrow, and the sunlight overhead became increasingly constricted, squeezed into a thin slit by the towering peaks.

Xiao Sanxiao had just stepped over a corner—

Two voices, one after the other, drifted over from the end of the snow track not far away.

Her voice was clear and bright, with an undisguised smile.

Like two larks that have strayed into the snowy mountains of a harsh winter, they are completely out of place with the desolate atmosphere of the Tianshan Mountains.

Xiao Sanxiao subconsciously looked in the direction of the sound.

Two figures strolled over from the corner of the ski slope.

She wore a long, moon-white dress, the hem of which fluttered gently in the wind.

Her face was delicate and pretty, her eyes sparkled, and a faint smile seemed to always be lingering at the corners of her eyes and brows.

His posture was extremely casual, yet there was an inexplicable captivating and sharp wit about him.

Like a thin blade hidden in silk, it makes one's heart tighten even before it is drawn.

Another was dressed in simple white, with gentle and graceful manners.

There was a calm and serene air about her, and at this moment, the corners of her mouth were slightly curved as she looked at him with an extremely composed gaze.

The two walked side by side, their sleeves fluttering lightly, their steps graceful—

There was not the slightest fluctuation in his vital energy.