Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils: The Successor of Bodhidharma

Page 7

"Who are you talking about? My brother is back?!" His voice boomed, and he grabbed the monk who spoke, his excitement overflowing. Over the years, he had asked his parents and his master countless times where his brother had gone, but he always received vague answers. His deepest impression of his brother was still that silent yet firm figure patting his head and telling him to "practice martial arts well."

The next moment, he dropped the cloth and, without even having time to ask his master for leave, sprang into action like a nimble leopard, rushing straight toward the servants' quarters behind the mountain, leaving behind a sea of ​​astonished stares.

Meanwhile, in a small town at the foot of the mountain, a boy of about twelve or thirteen years old was diligently practicing boxing in the forest outside the town. He was practicing a set of extremely solid and authentic Luohan boxing, his movements meticulous, his breathing long and even, and his eyes shining with a determination beyond his years. His name was Xie Xiaoyu.

Two years ago, his extraordinary encounter with the "Arhat's Transmission of Dharma" completely changed his destiny. Not only was his body a hundred times stronger, but the formula for the boxing technique in his mind was also crystal clear. In particular, the sacred "mission" was already deeply imprinted in his soul—to find and protect that enlightened master who "possesses the power to subdue dragons, is the leader of the world's number one gang, stands tall and upright, yet has a tragic fate!"

He finished practicing the final move, retracted his fist, and stood still, gazing at the mist-shrouded Shaoshi Mountain, his eyes filled with longing and determination. He knew that the "Arhat" who had taught him this divine skill must be connected to Shaolin. He needed to become stronger, and then, find his destined enlightened master! This was the entire meaning of his existence.

Just as Qiao Tian stepped out of the disciplinary hall, he heard a shout filled with excitement and disbelief, like a tiger roaring through the mountains, piercing through the temple's noise and reaching his ears:

"elder brother--!"

Qiao Tian looked up and saw a tall young man rushing towards him at lightning speed. Who else could it be but Qiao Feng?

The two brothers reunited in the ancient temple after several years.

Chapter 22 The Tiger Roars in the Mountains, Brothers Reunite

That cry of "Brother!" pierced through the clouds and shattered the rocks, carrying the unique clarity of a young man and an irrepressible excitement, instantly breaking the solemn atmosphere outside the Shaolin Temple's Disciplinary Hall.

Qiao Tian looked up and saw a tall, robust figure charging towards him like a tiger unleashed from its cage. The newcomer was about fourteen or fifteen years old, yet already broad-shouldered and thick-backed, slightly taller than Qiao Tian himself. Beneath his bronze skin, muscles bulged, radiating explosive power. Thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a high-bridged nose—his every glance already hinted at an indescribable air of boldness and authority. Who else could it be but Qiao Feng?

Years had passed, and the child who once followed behind him with such dependent eyes had grown into such a handsome young man. Qiao Tian's heart, as still as an ancient well, couldn't help but ripple with a sense of relief, emotion, and even more so, a heavy sense of responsibility—his younger brother was growing up at an astonishing pace, and the storm he was about to face was brewing rapidly.

"Brother Feng." Qiao Tian's lips curled up slightly, revealing a faint but genuine smile. His voice was steady, just like back then.

In an instant, Qiao Feng had rushed forward. In his excitement, he forgot to hold back, and his large, fan-like hands grabbed directly at Qiao Tian's arms with unparalleled force, creating a gust of wind. If this grab had landed, even a tree trunk as thick as a bowl would probably have cracked.

Several monks from the Disciplinary Hall who had not yet dispersed and some passing monks exclaimed in surprise upon seeing this. Everyone knew that although Qiao Feng was young, he was the most outstanding disciple of the Martial Monks Academy in recent years. He possessed profound internal strength and his attacks were fierce and powerful. This suddenly appearing "brother" looked like a menial servant and was likely to suffer pain on the spot.

However, just before Qiao Feng's swift grab touched Qiao Tian's arm and monk's robe, it was as if he had struck an invisible, intangible yet extremely resilient wall of energy. The force was quietly dissipated, and he only felt his palm slip slightly, unable to grasp firmly, merely resting lightly on Qiao Tian's arm.

Qiao Feng was taken aback, a hint of surprise flashing in his tiger-like eyes. He knew the strength he had used; in his haste, he hadn't held back, and it would be impossible for ordinary fellow disciples to neutralize such a move so easily. He looked closely at his brother, Qiao Tian, ​​who appeared calm and composed, as if nothing had happened, his serene eyes fixed on him with gentle warmth.

"Brother! You're really back! Where have you been all these years? Father and Mother have missed you so much! I asked Master, and he always said you were cultivating in seclusion on the back mountain..." Qiao Feng was simple-minded. Although he was surprised, the joy of the reunion instantly overwhelmed his doubts. He asked a barrage of questions, and his large hand changed from a grasp to a fist, tightly gripping Qiao Tian's forearm. His eyes even turned a little red.

"Yes, I'm back. I was studying and practicing calligraphy in a secluded spot in the back mountains, which took a while," Qiao Tian explained simply, patting his younger brother's strong arm. "I just heard Master say that your martial arts have improved greatly, and you're now hard to beat among your peers in the temple?"

When martial arts were mentioned, Qiao Feng immediately perked up and became very proud: "Of course! I've mastered the Tiger-Taming Fist and Arhat Fist that Master Xuanku taught me! Now, my senior brothers of the Hui generation often come to spar with me!" His tone was filled with the pride of a young man, but there was no arrogance in it. He was simply happy to have his efforts recognized.

Qiao Tian nodded slightly. He could sense the surging internal energy within Qiao Feng's body. Although it was still somewhat immature, it was already taking shape, with an extremely solid foundation. What was even more remarkable was that innate, unstoppable potential, like a dormant volcano. Master Xuanku's teachings were excellent, and Qiao Feng himself must have also worked very hard.

"Okay." Qiao Tian said only one word, but it contained affirmation and encouragement.

The two brothers stood together, one still and one dynamic, one composed and one bold, their temperaments vastly different, yet possessing a strange harmony. The surrounding monks watched in amazement, whispering amongst themselves. They knew how formidable Qiao Feng was, but this suddenly appearing elder brother, seemingly ordinary, could easily deflect Qiao Feng's powerful grab, and faced with Qiao Feng's imposing aura, he showed no weakness, instead appearing even more profound and unfathomable—truly a strange occurrence.

Oblivious to the stares around them, Qiao Feng pulled Qiao Tian towards the door, saying, "Brother, let's go home! Parents will be so happy to see you! I'll go ask Master for leave right now!"

Qiao Tian gently pulled him back: "Wait a moment. I just came from the Disciplinary Hall and need to go back to my residence to pack up. You also need to formally inform Master Xuanku before leaving the temple; you must not break the rules." He was trying to be thorough and did not want to cause any unnecessary criticism to Xuanku and Qiao Feng.

Although Qiao Feng was anxious, he always listened to his master and brother. He scratched his head and chuckled, "Brother, you're so thoughtful! I'll go and inform Master first, and then wait for you at the temple gate!" After saying that, he seemed to remember something and lowered his voice, "Brother, what you did just now... was amazing! Did you secretly learn some unparalleled martial arts in the back mountain?" His eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitement.

Qiao Tian smiled slightly, neither confirming nor denying: "Go quickly."

Qiao Feng nodded vigorously, turned around and strode towards Xuanku Temple. His steps were light and swift, showing that he had already established a foundation in superior lightness skills.

Watching his younger brother's departing figure, Qiao Tian's gentle gaze gradually faded, replaced by deep thought. Qiao Feng's growth had exceeded expectations, which was certainly a good thing, but it also meant he was being watched by more people, and the hidden dangers might arrive sooner. Was Abbot Xuanci's "special attention" an expression of appreciation, a sign of vigilance, or something else? Had Murong Bo's watchful eyes already noticed this rising star in Shaolin Temple?

He took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his mind. His immediate priority was to return home and reassure his parents; after that, many plans needed to be accelerated. He turned and walked towards the low, simple servants' quarters. "Little Black," the dog on his shoulder, nimbly jumped down and scrambled up a nearby tree, keeping watch for him.

At the entrance of Shaolin Temple, Qiao Feng had been waiting for a long time, occasionally tiptoeing to peek out, his face filled with barely suppressed anticipation and joy. Finally, he saw that familiar yet somewhat unfamiliar figure in blue walking steadily out of the temple.

Sunlight bathed the two brothers, casting long shadows. One was like a drawn sword, its sharpness fully revealed, its roar echoing through the mountains and forests. The other was like a deep, ancient well, its still waters running deep, concealing a thunderous roar.

Their reunion seemed like a signal, indicating that the gears of their predetermined fate were beginning to turn faster toward the unknown.

Chapter 23 Rooftop Night Talk

As the sun sets, wisps of smoke rise from the chimneys of the small village at the foot of Shaoshi Mountain, bathing it in a warm orange hue. The Qiao family courtyard stands at the village entrance, its low earthen walls and simple wooden door meticulously maintained.

Qiao Feng practically dragged Qiao Tian all the way back, and the boy's excitement infected the villagers along the way, who all cast curious and kind glances at him.

"Father! Mother! Look who's back!" Before even entering the courtyard, Qiao Feng shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing throughout the neighborhood.

The wooden door creaked open, and Qiao Sanhuai, who was chopping firewood in the yard with a machete, looked up in surprise at the sound. In the kitchen, Qiao's mother, wearing an apron, also hurriedly leaned out, holding a spatula in her hand.

Time seemed to freeze when their gazes fell upon the young man in the blue robe behind Qiao Feng.

The spatula in Qiao's mother's hand fell to the ground with a clatter. Her eyes widened, her lips trembled slightly, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Over the years, Qiao Tian's face had lost its childlike roundness, his features were more defined, his skin was fair as if it hadn't seen the sun for a long time, and he had grown tall and straight as a bamboo. His calm temperament made him look both familiar and unfamiliar.

"Tian...Tian'er?" Qiao's mother's voice was choked with disbelief, and her eyes instantly reddened. She staggered forward a few steps, almost falling.

Qiao Tian felt a pang of sadness and rushed forward to firmly support his mother's arm. "Mother, it's me. I'm back." His voice remained steady, but a closer listen revealed a slight, suppressed tremor.

Qiao Sanhuai also dropped his wood-chopping knife and strode over. This honest and simple farmer murmured a few words, but in the end, he only patted Qiao Tian's shoulder heavily, his eyes reddening slightly: "It's good that you're back, it's good that you're back... You've lost weight, but... you've become stronger." He felt that his son's arms were strong and powerful, definitely not those of a weak scholar.

"Brother is studying hard and practicing calligraphy on the back mountain! It must be mentally taxing!" Qiao Feng chimed in, a proud smile on his face, as if his brother's return was his greatest achievement.

Only then did Qiao's mother come to her senses. Tears streamed down her face as she trembled and stroked Qiao Tian's cheeks, as if to confirm that this was not a dream: "My son... really my darling... you heartless child, you've been gone for so many years, and you haven't sent back many letters. Do you know how much your mother misses you..." Her words of reproach were filled with the joy of having lost and found her child again and with love.

"It is your unfilial son who has worried Mother and Father." Qiao Tian lowered his eyes, letting his mother stroke him, and a wave of guilt surged in his heart. This simple yet intense family affection was the softest bond in his heart when he was calculating countless destinies.

"It's good that you're back, why are you saying all this!" Qiao Sanhuai wiped his face, trying to lighten the mood. "Wife, stop crying, Tian'er's return is a great joy! Quickly, stew that old hen! Feng'er, go to the village entrance and fetch a pot of good wine!"

"Alright!" Qiao Feng replied excitedly and dashed out like a whirlwind.

The courtyard suddenly bustled with activity, filled with a long-lost vitality. Qiao's mother held Qiao Tian's hand, asking him all sorts of questions, sometimes saying he was too thin and needed to eat more, sometimes worrying that he wasn't eating or dressed well in the back mountains. Qiao Tian patiently answered each question, only saying that the back mountains of Shaolin were quiet, convenient for studying Buddhist scriptures and other learning, and that life there was hard but bearable, never mentioning martial arts.

Qiao Sanhuai listened with a simple smile, occasionally interjecting with a few words about the harvest or village gossip. They all sensed that their son had changed. He was no longer the silent boy who occasionally revealed a childlike innocence. Now, Qiao Tian was as calm as a deep well, his eyes gentle, yet seemingly concealing many things they couldn't understand. But no matter what, he was their son, and he was back—that was enough. Family ties quickly bridged the slight estrangement left by years of separation.

The dinner table was laden with simple yet flavorful home-style dishes, with a large bowl of fragrant chicken soup in the center. Qiao Feng excitedly recounted the interesting stories from the temple, how he practiced martial arts, and how he sparred with his fellow disciples. Qiao Tian listened mostly quietly, occasionally asking a question or two, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Mrs. Qiao kept putting food on Qiao Tian's plate, her eyes constantly brimming with both smiles and tears. Qiao Sanhuai also drank a couple more glasses, his face flushed.

The warmth of home, like the finest wine, slowly soothed Qiao Tian's heartstrings, which had been taut from years of planning. He savored this rare tranquility, yet his consciousness, like the surface of water, subtly sensed his surroundings, confirming that this warmth had not been disturbed by any gloom.

That night, the moon was bright and the stars were few. On the roof of the Qiao family courtyard, the two brothers sat side by side. The village lights below were scattered, and the silhouette of Shaoshi Mountain in the distance appeared mysterious and majestic under the moonlight. The night breeze carried the fresh scent of grass and trees.

“Brother,” Qiao Feng’s voice broke the silence, tinged with a satisfied sigh, “It’s so good that you’re back.” He turned his head, looking at Qiao Tian’s handsome and serene profile, which appeared even more refined in the moonlight, “Will you leave again?”

"I'll go out for a walk." Qiao Tian gazed into the distance, his voice calm. "Reading ten thousand books is good, but traveling ten thousand miles is also necessary. But home is always here."

Qiao Feng gave an "Oh," seemingly understanding but not quite, then became excited again: "Brother, you easily neutralized my strength this afternoon. Did you really learn some amazing martial arts in the back mountain? Master Xuanku said that there is no end to the path of martial arts. Have you already reached a very profound level?" The boy's eyes sparkled with the purest longing and curiosity for power.

Instead of answering directly, Qiao Tian asked, "Brother Feng, what do you think is the purpose of practicing martial arts?"

Qiao Feng was taken aback, scratched his head, and answered without hesitation: "Of course it's for strengthening my body and upholding justice! Just like Master Xuanku said, only by mastering skills can I protect those who need protection and defeat those bad guys!" He clenched his fist, his voice full of self-righteous pride.

Qiao Tian nodded slightly: "Protecting those you want to protect is good. But have you ever thought about what kind of power is truly powerful?"

"Huh?" Qiao Feng was taken aback by the question, his thick eyebrows furrowing. "Isn't it just that you have profound internal strength and exquisite moves? One punch can shatter stone tablets! One palm strike can make bad guys bow down!"

"Steel cannot last, softness cannot be maintained." Qiao Tian's voice was slow, like a night breeze. "Extreme strength is easily broken, extreme softness is easily defeated. The way of power lies in knowing its strength and guarding its weakness. Just like the wind, formless and intangible, yet it can break a great tree; just like water, extremely soft and weak, yet it can penetrate stone and break mountains." He quoted the fundamental principles he had learned in the Bodhidharma Cave, but expressed them in the simplest way.

Qiao Feng was somewhat confused, but he also felt that it contained profound truths, more profound than the boxing manuals and principles he had learned: "Brother, do you mean... that being strong is not enough?"

“Strength is fundamental, but how to apply it, when to exert it, and why to exert it are even more important.” Qiao Tian continued to guide, “Blindly relying on brute force will only lead to defeat when faced with stronger opponents; knowing how to restrain, resolve, and guide is the key to remaining invincible. This applies to martial arts as well as to being a person.”

Looking at Qiao Feng's bewildered yet thoughtful expression, he changed the subject slightly: "The world of martial arts is vast, and it's not just a matter of black and white. Some people appear benevolent on the surface but are treacherous at heart; some things, what you see may not be the truth. Reputation can make or break a person. You must always maintain a clear mind, not easily believe or blindly follow, but only strive to have a clear conscience."

His tone was calm, as if he were merely having a casual chat, discussing some principles he had gleaned from Buddhist scriptures. Qiao Feng only half understood what his brother was saying, but he felt that his words were profound and reasonable, quite different from the straightforward world of martial arts he was used to.

"Brother, you know so much," Qiao Feng said sincerely, then grinned, "But I think that as long as you act uprightly and have strong enough fists, you have nothing to fear from those demons and monsters!"

Qiao Tian smiled as he looked at his younger brother's spirited demeanor. This childlike innocence was Qiao Feng's most precious quality, and also one of the sources of his tragedy. He couldn't forcibly change it; he could only subtly plant the seeds.

"Yes. But remember, your fists are a last resort, not the only one." Qiao Tian gently patted his younger brother's strong shoulder. "Use your own eyes to see more, and use your own heart to judge more. When you encounter difficulties, think more about why, rather than just how."

"I've got it, brother!" Qiao Feng nodded emphatically. Although he still needed time to digest the principles about "gentleness" and "judgment," he would definitely keep his brother's words in mind. He then enthusiastically talked about which senior brother in the temple was sincere, which junior brother loved to play tricks, and the bravery of the hunters in the village, as well as his own aspirations for venturing into the martial world in the future.

Qiao Tian listened quietly, sketching out a map of his younger brother's character from his simple sharing—chivalrous, bold, with clear likes and dislikes, somewhat naive, and full of trust and enthusiasm for the world.

Moonlight bathed the two brothers; one was as serene as an abyss, speaking of the world's complexity and the profound meaning of power; the other was as passionate as fire, yearning for a bright future and simple justice. Their shadows overlapped on the rooftop, as if foreshadowing an intertwined and shared destiny.

It wasn't until late at night, when the dew was heavy, that Qiao Feng reluctantly followed his brother down from the roof. He felt that the conversation that evening had broadened his horizons; although many truths still needed to be pondered, his heart was filled with a richer sense of fulfillment. As for Qiao Tian, ​​looking at his younger brother's carefree sleeping face, his resolve to protect him grew even stronger.

The night is still long, and his journey has only just begun.

Chapter 24 Arrangement

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, the mountain mist had not yet dissipated.

Qiao Feng, as was his habit, got up early and was about to go to the courtyard to practice his boxing when he saw his brother Qiao Tian already standing under the old locust tree, his hands behind his back, his aura seemingly blending into the morning light and mountain mist, serene and profound.

"Brother, you're up so early?" Qiao Feng stretched his arms and legs as he walked over.

Qiao Tian turned around, a gentle look on his face: "Brother Feng, come here. I have something for you."

Qiao Feng curiously approached. He saw Qiao Tian take out two thin, carefully sewn booklets from his pocket, with no titles on the covers.

"What's this?" Qiao Feng took the book and opened one of them. Inside were neat yet sharp handwriting, diagrams of the human body's meridians and energy flow routes, along with detailed annotations. The other book contained more illustrations of footwork techniques, power generation methods, and mental cultivation secrets; it, too, had no title.

“I observe that your martial arts style is unparalleled in its fierceness and power. This is your talent and your style, and there is no need to change it.” Qiao Tian spoke slowly, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable strength. “But extreme strength is easily broken. If you cultivate this internal energy diligently, it can help you build a stronger foundation and make your internal energy inexhaustible. Moreover, its nature is balanced and peaceful, and it can contain and nourish your original Shaolin internal energy without conflict.”

He was referring to the nameless internal martial art that combined the overwhelming Yang energy of the Nine Yang Divine Skill with the inclusive nature of the Yi Jin Jing. He didn't mention its origin, only saying that he derived it from Buddhist scriptures.

Although Qiao Feng was young, he had an extremely high talent for martial arts. After a cursory glance, he felt that the principles contained therein were profound and subtle, far surpassing any internal energy cultivation method he had ever encountered. His internal energy even faintly resonated with it, and he was both surprised and delighted: "Brother, this...this is too precious!"

Qiao Tian waved his hand and continued, "Remember, after you reach the eighth level, do not attempt to break through to the ninth level on your own. At that time, your meridians will be under immense strain, and you will need someone to protect and guide you. Once you reach that level, I will come to help you." His expression was solemn. Although Qiao Feng did not understand the deeper meaning, he nodded emphatically and kept these words firmly in mind.

"Furthermore," Qiao Tian pointed to the manual, "this is something I realized while meditating, observing the wind blowing through the reeds and the still water. It's not some unparalleled movement technique, but rather an understanding of the principles of 'borrowing momentum,' 'rejecting force,' and 'controlling qi.' You are exceptionally talented, and you will surely be able to build your own path based on this. At that time, you can name it yourself." He spoke casually, encapsulating the supreme essence of "Crossing the River on a Reed" into the simplest of principles.

Next, instead of demonstrating specific moves, Qiao Tian used his finger as a pen to draw simple lines on the ground in the dim morning light, and began to explain the application of "force" to Qiao Feng.

My Shaolin skills are numerous, but they can also be harmful to oneself. One must understand their meaning and not be fixated on their form!

"The essence of Shaolin Dragon Claw Hand lies in 'control'—controlling one point to subdue the whole body. The power is not brute force, but must be concentrated at the fingertips, penetrating to the bone, like an eagle hunting a rabbit, precise and ruthless." He moved his fingers lightly, and a slight whooshing sound seemed to echo in the air.

“And the Dragon-Capturing Skill…” Qiao Tian’s gaze narrowed slightly, and his aura suddenly changed. Instead of being a powerful outward release, it generated an invisible force of attraction. Several fallen leaves on the ground moved without wind, gently swirling towards his fingertips. “The essence lies in the word ‘capture’ and the word ‘guide.’ It is not about relying solely on internal force to forcefully absorb, but rather using one’s own true energy to disturb the surrounding energy, either to capture and control the enemy or to take objects from a distance. It all depends on the exquisite control of the ‘energy’ and ‘force’ fields. This is similar to the most powerful and fierce palm techniques in the world. If one can contain a trace of the skillful force of ‘capturing and guiding’ amidst the power and ferocity, one can turn the impossible into the possible.”

He didn't delve too deeply, but rather broke down the core concepts, instilling them into Qiao Feng's heart. Qiao Feng listened, mesmerized. He was a natural-born martial arts prodigy, and these novel and profound concepts resonated subtly with the surging power within him, as if opening a completely new door and revealing a broader realm of martial arts. He vaguely sensed that what his brother was saying would have an indescribable and immense benefit for his future mastery of more advanced martial arts, especially that extremely powerful and fierce palm technique.

"Brother, I...I think I understand a little bit!" Qiao Feng clenched his fist excitedly, feeling his blood boiling and wishing he could start cultivating immediately.

"Understanding the principle is enough; you can verify it gradually in the future." Qiao Tian calmed his aura and regained his composure. "I'm giving you the techniques and concepts to help you solidify your foundation and broaden your horizons, not to force you to absorb them whole. Ultimately, you must walk your own path and forge your own martial arts path. I believe you will do better than anyone else."

Qiao Feng was taken aback, not understanding why, but he felt that his brother had great expectations for him.

After giving his instructions, Qiao Tian let Qiao Feng practice on his own. He watched as his younger brother immediately became engrossed in the exercise, sometimes pondering the manual, sometimes trying it out with his arms. His focus and enthusiasm were truly moving.

When the sun was high in the sky, Qiao Tian briefly told his parents that he was going out to visit friends for a few days. Although Qiao's mother was reluctant to let him go, she knew that her son had grown up and was independent, so she only gave him some careful instructions.

Qiao Tian left home, his figure flickering as he disappeared into the forest like a wisp of smoke. His speed and grace far exceeded ordinary people's imagination. He didn't use his full strength, but the essence of the "Crossing the River on a Reed" lightness skill had been deeply ingrained in his bones. He stepped on branches and brushed against leaves, making no sound.

Soon, he arrived at the secluded mountaintop pavilion where he had arranged to meet Xie Xiaoyu.

The pavilion remained deserted, with dust settling on the stone table. Qiao Tian's gaze swept over it and he noticed several fresh engravings on the inside of one of the table's legs. These were the marks he and Xiao Yu had agreed upon, indicating that Xiao Yu had come and taken the supplies.

Qiao Tian took out a pre-prepared slip of paper and a thin booklet—the outer-stage hard skill cultivation method of "Arhat Body". He placed the slip of paper under the booklet in the most inconspicuous corner of the stone table and weighed it down with a small pebble.

The note read: "Come when fate brings you here, go when fate ends. There is no need to come again. One year from now, at the Beggars' Sect headquarters, under the tutelage of Wang Jiantong, your enlightened master will appear. Cultivate diligently without ceasing, and await your time." There was no signature.

After doing all this, Qiao Tian left quietly as if he had never been there.

A mountain breeze swept through the pavilion, ruffling a corner of a book. The book, "The Body of the Arhat," and the note on it quietly awaited the next person to discover them.

Qiao Tian, ​​like a drifting cloud, floated down the mountain to begin his next plan. His warm little family on Shaoshi Mountain remained behind, becoming his strongest support and his heaviest responsibility. The road ahead was long, and storms were brewing.

Chapter 25: Reflecting on Tribulations, Planning for Perfection, and Laying the Pawn at Wudang Mountain

At the foot of Shaoshi Mountain, the morning mist gradually dissipated. Qiao Tian's figure disappeared into the lush green forest, and he chose a secluded high cliff, gazing silently at his own small courtyard where wisps of smoke were rising from the chimney.

A mountain breeze swept by, ruffling a few strands of hair on his forehead, but it couldn't dispel the deep thoughts etched between his brows.

“A year and a half…” he murmured to himself, his voice fading into the wind. The time he had been given was neither long nor short.

The picture of his younger brother Qiao Feng's fate unfolded clearly in his mind. It was not a simple struggle of force, but a suffocating deadly trap with one link after another.

"Apricot Grove..." Qiao Tian's eyes turned slightly cold. That was the first thunderbolt, not from swords, but from a soft knife, a devastating blow to the soul. Quan Guanqing, Bai Shijing, and their ilk, with their so-called "evidence" and "righteousness," easily negated Qiao Feng's lifelong achievements and chivalrous spirit, turning him from the revered leader of the Beggars' Sect into a despised "Khitan barbarian." No matter how high his martial arts skills, how could he silence the voices of the masses? How could he withstand a meticulously woven conspiracy and lies? At that moment, Qiao Feng lost not only his position as leader, but also the complete recognition he had received from the world. To break this deadlock, the strength of the two brothers alone was far from enough; what was needed was a power and prestige sufficient to shake the opinions of the martial arts world.

Next came Juxian Manor. It was a desperate struggle, a frenzied outburst after the heart had died. Heroes from all over the land surrounded them, wine was drunk, loyalty was broken, and they fought a bloody battle to survive. It was a true test of life and death, requiring absolute martial prowess to overwhelm the entire field and protect them as they fought their way out of the encirclement, as well as a strategy to foresee and resolve this deadly situation.

Then, in front of Shaolin Temple, the mystery of his origins is fully revealed, heroes from all over the land surround him, and the grudges of his fathers become entangled... the scene becomes even more complex and chaotic. And finally, outside Yanmen Pass, it is a tearing apart of national righteousness and brotherhood, a tragic end that the heroes are destined to never find a solution for.

“Military force, influence, prestige, and even… the court’s approval,” Qiao Tian slowly uttered. He needed to build a solid barrier for his younger brother in these areas.

Thoughts drifted far, and when discussing martial prowess, he couldn't help but think of those names at the pinnacle of martial arts in this world. The Sweeping Monk, hidden deep within Shaolin, almost a myth, should be in the Sutra Repository right now, beyond his current reach, much less something he could rely on. The eunuch who created the *Sunflower Manual*? This person was too ethereal, but he had a feeling that this person must have existed in the Tianlong era, only hidden deep within the palace, unrecorded. Huang Shang? Perhaps he was still a scholar at this moment; the *Nine Yin Manual* would only appear after he had read through countless volumes of Daoist scriptures. Dugu Qiubai? The name of the Sword Demon resounded throughout the ages, befriending eagles, seeking a single defeat in his lifetime! Perhaps he wouldn't be born for decades to come!

These exceptionally talented individuals are like stars adorning the night sky of this era, but Qiao Tian cannot borrow their light; he can only ignite his own flame.