I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

Look around.

Within a radius of ten miles, the peaks are broken off.

All the towering cliffs and precipitous peaks were halved in half during this indiscriminate slaughter by the demonic blade.

Only thick white stone dust remained in mid-air, intertwining and merging with the lingering dark demonic energy.

The wind is the knife, and the knife is the wind.

It has neither form nor shape.

This is no longer a demonstration of techniques.

This is a black natural disaster driven by a single thought.

Inside a blacksmith's shop in Niejia Town.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

Before the blazing furnace, Nie Renwang, his muscular upper body bare, was swinging a hammer, striking the red-hot iron billet with each blow heavier than the last.

Sparks flew everywhere.

Suddenly, a strange change occurred.

"Buzz—"

The dozens of steel knives and swords hanging on the four walls of the shop suddenly began to tremble violently without warning.

The clash of swords produced a low, terrifying whistling sound, like ten thousand blades weeping in unison.

"Master...Master! The knife called out by itself!"

The young apprentice working the bellows nearby turned pale with fright and shrank back behind the stove.

"Could it be... that another peerless swordsman has come knocking on our door?"

It's no wonder he's so paranoid.

He clearly remembered that the last time the walls of weapons in the shop wailed like that, it was when a peerless swordsman named Huang Ying came to the door.

That day, the arrogant man wielding the Silent Blade beat up his own master right in front of him.

Nie Renwang abruptly stopped hammering.

Hearing his apprentice bring up this old grievance without thinking, he glared at the young apprentice with annoyance.

He put down the hammer, wiped the sweat from his forehead, strode to the door, and looked up at the distant horizon beyond the town.

As far as the eye can see, a pitch-black tornado stretching to the sky is tearing the heavens apart.

The demonic clouds rolled and blotted out the sky.

Although only a few miles apart, the chilling, bloodthirsty blade intent was already rushing towards them along with the howling wind.

A helpless, bitter smile appeared on Nie Renwang's rugged face, but his eyes revealed an undisguised fervor and shock.

"The wind... is making more and more frightening noises."

The backyard of the blacksmith's shop.

"Mother, take this!"

Accompanied by a clear, childlike shout.

With her hair in pigtails, Qing'er gripped a short wooden sword tightly in both hands. With her steps, which were messy yet nimble, she excitedly thrust the sword at Dugu Meng in the center of the courtyard.

Dugu Meng has changed from her former cold and aloof demeanor; her eyes and brows now reveal the tender affection of a mother.

She didn't move, but simply extended two slender, white fingers and lightly pinched the tip of the wooden sword that was thrust at her.

"Qing'er's swordsmanship today is quite impressive."

Dugu Meng smiled and was about to lower her head to give her daughter a few pointers.

Suddenly.

As darkness fell, a fierce and incomparable northerly wind swept over the high brick walls and across the entire courtyard.

Fallen leaves swirled wildly.

Dugu Meng keenly sensed the familiar scent carried on the wind and immediately turned her head to look.

"Mother, why did it suddenly get dark?"

Qing'er also stopped practicing her sword with curiosity, and following her mother's gaze, she looked up with her rosy little face.

In the distance, a pitch-black eye of a storm, obscuring the sky, was slowly descending.

Thick, dark clouds rolled like raging waves, and from the deepest part of the vortex, a sharp black light, capable of cleaving through the void, faintly shone through.

The mother and daughter stood quietly in the courtyard, defying the strong wind.

Gazing at this black calamity, which resembled the deepest hell, Dugu Meng showed no fear whatsoever; instead, her cool eyes reflected a deep sense of pride.

She gently pulled her daughter into her arms, whispering softly amidst the suffocating roar of the storm:

"It's your father."

"He's broken through again."

Several hours later.

As dusk fell, the setting sun shone like blood.

The raging winds that swept through the mountains outside the town suddenly subsided.

The dark, swirling clouds that blotted out the sky seemed to be drawn by some irresistible, terrifying force.

Like a whale sucking in water, it rushed back towards the eye of the storm!

In just three breaths, the natural disaster vanished.

All that could be seen was a devastated, half-shaved cliffside ruin.

At the very top of the ruins, the demonic energy that filled the sky has once again solidified into reality.

A solitary, proud figure stands atop the cliff, hands clasped behind his back.

With his robes fluttering, Nie Feng finished his practice.

He slightly raised his chiseled chin, his deep, abyss-like eyes gazing silently beyond the mountains, towards the more distant world of martial arts.

The world was once again filled with deathly silence.

A faint ripple crossed his eyes.

I wonder if Senior Brother Yun has also broken through his own martial arts barrier at this moment.

Nie Feng withdrew his gaze and, without lingering any longer, leaped into the air.

Without even the slightest movement to gain leverage, he was thrown off the cliff.

"call--"

In mid-air, its form and bones were no longer visible.

Only a barely perceptible breeze remained, creating a faint ripple in the twilight sky before merging into the mist and drifting away towards Niejia Town at the foot of the mountain.

Niejia Town, backyard.

As night fell, the stone lanterns in the courtyard lit up one after another.

The evening breeze brushed against the high brick wall, causing Dugu Meng's black hair to flutter slightly by her ears.

"Father!"

Qing'er, who was meticulously practicing with the famous wooden sword, suddenly stopped, as if she had an extremely keen bloodline intuition like a cheetah.

Excitedly, she dropped the wooden sword, opened her tender arms, and rushed towards the empty courtyard in front of her without a care in the world.

"call--"

A very gentle evening breeze gathered right in front of her.

Just moments before, Nie Feng was atop the precipice, but now, as if detached from the wind, he silently revealed his true form.

He was no longer the cold man he used to be when practicing martial arts; a touch of warmth spread across his stern face.

He bent down and scooped the little girl who was rushing towards him high in the air.

"Qing'er, how did your swordplay go today?"

He gently rubbed his daughter's bright red nose and asked with a smile.

"I already knew how to do it!"

Qing'er proudly raised her little head, pouted, and started gesturing wildly.

"The swordsmanship my mother taught me is no fun at all, it's so weak and feeble!"

"Qing'er wants to learn Father's swordsmanship; that's truly impressive!"

Upon hearing this, Nie Feng couldn't help but chuckle.

He reached out and gently tapped his daughter's forehead, his tone deliberately stern:

"The way of martial arts is to avoid trying to do too much at once and not being able to digest it properly."

"You haven't even mastered your mother's unparalleled sword intent, yet you want to learn the sword?"

"Hehehe—"

Qing'er made a face at him defiantly, then clung to his shoulder and grumbled.

"Daddy's stingy!"

"Fine, if you won't teach me, then so be it. I'll ask Uncle Yun to teach me the Cloud-Dispelling Palm in a few days!"

Just as the father and daughter were joking around.

Dugu Meng stepped forward gracefully with light, quick steps.

"You silly girl, all you do is cling to your father."

Dugu Meng scolded him playfully, but her eyes were full of tenderness for her husband's return.

Nie Feng put Qing'er down.

He looked at his wife, his deep gaze finally settling on Dugu Meng's slightly protruding pregnant belly.

A touch of extremely rare softness completely replaced the abyssal arrogance.

He reached out and gently placed his hand over the warm, moist belly through his clothes.

"Judging from the way this little one is moving, he's probably going to be a restless soul."

Nie Feng sighed softly, his tone revealing an undisguised anticipation.

"Judging by the time, she should be born around the time winter begins."

"yes."

Dugu Meng leaned into Nie Feng's broad chest and chuckled softly.

"I'm thinking of deciding on the child's name first."

Nie Feng raised an eyebrow and asked:

Have you made up your mind?

Dugu Meng nodded, a hint of solemnity flashing in her eyes:

"If it's a boy, name him Nie Zheng. It means 'unyielding and indomitable,' so that he won't fall into endless demonic obstacles like those in the martial arts world."

"If she is a girl, she will be named Nie Yu. May her life be like a gentle rain nourishing all things, avoiding the turmoil of grudges and feuds in the martial world."

Nie Feng's eyes flickered slightly after hearing this.

Just and rain.

These two words entrust the humble wish that one's descendants would not have to wade through the murky waters of the world.

He put his arm around his wife's shoulder tightly and nodded emphatically:

"Okay, as you wish."

"I don't want a sister, I want a brother!!"

Qing'er, who had been listening intently, suddenly jumped up and interrupted, her face turning bright red:

"I want to be a big sister! When my little brother is born, I can teach him to fight with pieces of wood!!"

These innocent words from a child immediately caused Nie Feng and Dugu Meng to look at each other and burst into laughter.

The clear and comforting laughter completely isolated this cozy little courtyard from the bloody and turbulent world outside the town.

Inside the blacksmith's shop, the furnace fire still burned fiercely.

Nie Renwang did not continue swinging the iron hammer.

He washed his hands, which were covered in iron dust, and walked around the main house, quietly making his way alone to a secluded secret room in the corner of the backyard.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, a blast of bone-chilling cold mist greeted us.

The sealed room was extremely cold and damp; even the moisture from our breath instantly condensed into a pale white frost.

At the deepest part of the house, a square ice sculpture, about half a meter in size, stands quietly.

At the heart of the translucent ice layer, frozen solid, lay a desolate and chilling pile of broken blades.

Fragments of the Snow Drinking Saber!

This extremely cold ice blade, which once drove the entire martial arts world mad, is now broken beyond repair, but the chilling aura emanating from its broken edges has not diminished but has lingered for a long time.

A faint blue light shone through the ice.

Like a pack of sleeping wolves, they wait with pride and forbearance for the day they will reunite from the ashes and once again reign supreme!

Nie Renwang stopped in front of the ice sculpture, his rough knuckles pressing deeply into the ice.

In his mind, all he could see was the destructive demonic energy that had swept across the sky not long ago.

The wind's magic blade has reached a state of perfection.

If it were to be paired with this unparalleled, extremely cold divine blade, with demonic thoughts intertwined and bone-chilling cold, how terrifying would its killing power rise to the moment it drew the Snow Drinker?!

"Bang--!"

Nie Renwang's eyes widened, his gaze suddenly turning fanatical, and his iron fist, imbued with immense force, slammed down on his head.

The ice sculpture was blasted to pieces!

The extremely cold air, which had been suppressed for who knows how long, accompanied by ice shards, burst out wildly in all directions like sharp blades.

Nie Renwang did not retreat even half a step.

He crouched down and plunged his bare hands into the frost, cold enough to freeze one's bones.

He carefully and resolutely picked out the snow-covered remains, one by one, braving the biting cold wind.

He wants to restart the furnace.

With these hands that have wielded countless weapons, they forcefully knocked them back into the world!

Spring and Autumn Residence.

The setting sun hangs over the mountains, and the lake's surface is as smooth as a mirror.

In the very center of the vast expanse of blue waves, a tiny, inconspicuous boat drifts.

The once-mighty Sword Emperor, who once dominated the martial arts world, now sits quietly at the bow of the boat, wearing a bamboo hat and a raincoat, like a lifeless wooden sculpture.

The water rippled gently, the fishing float bobbed up and down, but he didn't even flinch.

While seemingly fishing here, one's energy has actually become completely integrated with this world.

He was trying to grasp the essence of the Spring and Autumn Period sword technique.

Both withering and flourishing bear the marks of a knife.