青青狠狠噜天天噜日日噜

Edited by: Michyrr

As time passed, the autumn deepened, and the sky filled with falling leaves was exhausted. The ancient tree within Tanzhe Temple was left with only bare branches and a naked trunk.

Fallen leaves still covered the path entering the mountains, but after a session of autumn rain that had begun last night, there was not a hint of beauty left within them. They only stirred vexation, like bedding that was thoroughly soaked.

Drenched fallen leaves had at least some benefits, and one of these was that someone walking on them wouldn’t make much noise. Under the cover of the overcast sky and the threads of rain, several dozen experts of the Great Zhou military and an even greater number of assassins and spies from the Department for Purging Officials tread upon the soaked fallen leaves, noiselessly crossing the mountain path and sneaking into the autumn forest circling the mountain.

The paths leading out of the mountains from Tanzhe Temple were completely under control. No one would be able to leave.

There was a rustling sound, somewhat crisp and dry. It was like someone was walking across the golden leaves as they were several days ago, their steps crumbling numerous dry leaves.

It sounded like crumbling leaves, but it was the autumn wind passing through the rain and incessantly blowing against a paper mask.

A man was walking on the mountain path, with a white paper on his face, obscuring his nose and mouth. Only at his eyes were two black holes punched in the paper, making him seem abnormally terrifying.

Painted Armor Xiao Zhang.

The rain falling from the sky seemed to avoid his body of its own accord. The white paper was clean and dry, without a single drop of water on it.

In this generation of blooming wildflowers, countless cultivation geniuses had appeared, tyrannical and overbearing experts. Amongst them, he was one of the most terrifying and most powerful.

Like Xun Mei, he had been undefeated his entire life, with one sole exception: Wang Po. He had never beaten Wang Po, not even once. Whether at Boiling Stone Summit or the Proclamation of Liberation, he could only ever be ranked second.

But he was never scared or discouraged. He continued to issue challenges to Wang Po, continued to lose every fight. Even going insane and almost dying had been unable to shake his will.

To be beneath only one man seemed to already be quite an outstanding rank, but he did not want to accept it.

Today, in the dreary autumn rain, he was walking upon the mountain path naturally so he could fight Wang Po again.

He had never imagined that Wang Po might not accept, because the gathering of so many experts of the Imperial Court had surrounded Tanzhe Temple. If Wang Po wanted to leave, he would first have to defeat him.

To defeat him once more, or be defeated.

The autumn wind blew against the white paper, rustling like dry leaves.

The autumn rain fell upon the mountain path, but the soaked leaves could make no noise.

Xiao Zhang was not able to walk to Tanzhe Temple, because a person had appeared in front of him.

Treading on soaked leaves truly would not make any noise. In this noiseless fashion, this person had passed through the several blockades set up on the mountain path, even concealing their presence from Xiao Zhang’s perception.

Just who was this person that they were actually this strong?

This person was clothed in black. He let the rain soak him as he exuded an extremely cold and tough aura.

His clothes, his face, the lines on his shoulder, and the hands he held behind him all seemed to be cast from iron.

Standing in front of the mountain path, he cut off the autumn rain from the ground, the autumn wind from the paper, Tanzhe Temple from the rest of the world.

He was just like a wall, and not a wall made from earth or brick, but from iron, a wall that not even wind could pass through.

Xiao Zhang knew who this person was. The black holes on the white paper seemed to become even deeper and more serene, but faint flames of madness could be seen within.

"You want to stop me?" he asked the iron wall that was the man before him.

The person expressionlessly looked back, seeming to regard Xiao Zhang’s question as extremely silly and not worth answering.

The entire world knew that Painted Armor Xiao Zhang was a true madman, his conduct abnormally violent and unbridled. No one dared to lightly offend him, much less view him with contempt.

Yet this person had done so, and shockingly, although the intent to fight in Xiao Zhang’s deep and serene eyes intensified, he ultimately...did not strike.

Xiao Zhang recalled that rumor. Given this man’s relationship with the Great Western Continent, there was simply no reason for him to attack Wang Po. He asked, "If you don’t, why do you stand in front of me?"

The person answered, "Since I’ve come, the rest of you naturally have to leave. You are not his opponent, and I don’t want you to put him on his guard."

Xiao Zhang became utterly furious, the white paper on his face rustling in response.

Suddenly, the autumn wind ceased to rise from his face. He fell silent, because he understood this person’s intentions.

"This is not fair to him," Xiao Zhang said, staring the man in the eyes.

The man had clearly come to Tanzhe Temple to fight with Wang Po.

Xiao Zhang said that this was not fair to Wang Po.

This meant that in his view, this person’s strength was far above Wang Po’s, and logically speaking, they should not have lowered themselves to fight against Wang Po.

Wang Po was at the top of the Proclamation of Liberation, the strongest of all experts beneath the Divine Domain in the hearts of the people. Just who in the world would have enough strength to be able to easily defeat him?

If there truly was someone, it could only be one of those powerful figures of the Divine Domain, those old monsters that could be counted with a pair of hands.

Just who was this person? Which member of the Storms of the Eight Directions? Or was it some lofty person who had concealed themselves from the world for many years?

Xiao Zhang knew who this person was, so he said that it was unfair, but this did not mean that he was afraid.

He could almost see a little into the future: Wang Po collapsed under the ancient tree, his body covered in blood.

He found this somewhat difficult to accept.

Just like Xun Mei, he had spent his entire life attempting to surpass Wang Po. He found it impossible to accept that before he succeeded, Wang Po would be killed.

At this moment, he was overcome with the intense desire to stop this man.

This person could kill Wang Po, and Wang Po was stronger than him, yet he still wanted to stop this person. No matter how one looked at it, this was an insane way of thinking.

He had always been a very insane man.

Rain fell on his spear, soaking his hand.

It was Xiao Zhang’s hand, clenched and forceful.

"And what right do any of you have to speak to me of fairness?"

The man glanced at Xiao Zhang, his expression apathetic as if looking upon nothing.

His iron wall of shoulder, washed in the autumn rain, seemed to have been polished tens of thousands of times. It shone with a metallic luster. Then, it began to reveal its edge.

A grunt came out of the white paper.

The autumn rain washed the spear and the fingers grasping the spear grew slightly pale.

In the end, Xiao Zhang had still not struck.

Or perhaps, he had been unable to strike.

He could only watch as the man walked through the rain into Tanzhe Temple.

Like an iron wall, shining with a cold light.

......

......

Tie Shu, one of the Storms of the Eight Directions.

(TN: Tie Shu literally translates to ’Iron Tree’. In Chinese, this refers specifically to the plant Cycas revoluta. This plant is known for its extremely slow maturation, only beginning to bloom with flowers after 15-20 years. In the past, there was an idiom ’The iron tree blooms every one thousand years’, used to indicate that something was an extremely rare occurrence or very difficult to realize. In reality, however, given the proper conditions, Cycas revoluta can bloom every year.)

He was born in the Great Western Continent. When he was young, he for some reason fled into the sea and attempted to cross the vast ocean. He nearly died, but was fortunately rescued by a person on the shore. That person was called Guan Xingke.

In the past ten years, he had been wandering about the Southern Sea, comprehending the Heavenly Dao. Now, he had finally returned.

He comprehended the Heavenly Dao, cultivated in the fleshly body, and was incomparably powerful.

’The blooming iron tree’ was equally renowned as Bie Yanghong’s small red flower, but no one had ever personally seen it.

He entered Tanzhe Temple.

The ancient tree had already shed all its leaves. The remaining yellowed leaves on the ground soaked in the rainwater.

Tie Shu walked to the stone stool, sat down, and closed his eyes.

Just like Wang Po had done over these past few days.