Becoming a Sage Starts From Condensing the Essence of Time

Chapter 136: Five Killer Tunes Dao Fruit, Demon Subduing Fierce Monk’s Killing Intent (1)

Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios

The curling smoke dissipated with an elegant golden glow.

The ripples were like stones thrown into the lake that stuck to the water and swayed up and down.

It had been a long time since he had absorbed the Molten Gold Age Qi. He did not expect to obtain a wisp in his battle with Ximen Qiuhua today.

An Le was rather happy. He felt that he had really gained a lot from this battle.

The more he absorbed Age Qi, the more he discovered that the Molten Gold Age Qi appeared without any pattern. Therefore, An Le cherished every time the Molten Gold Age Qi appeared.

A wisp of Molten Gold Age Qi could transform into an Age Dao Fruit.

The Age Dao Fruit could provide An Le with a lot of help. The Dao Fruit [Fearless Heart] that could provide clear qi and increase his cultivation level was one of the reasons why An Le dared to accumulate an invincible aura and walk the legendary path in such a short period of time.

This was because, with the Fearless Heart, he was fearless. The young man naturally had the courage to overcome all obstacles along the way.

Furthermore, because he could obtain feedback on his cultivation level, as long as he defeated powerful enemies along the way. he would continuously become stronger. In the end, he would stand at the peak and look down on everyone!

He suppressed the excitement in his heart.

His mental power focused as he began to observe the scene of time that was gradually rippling in front of him.

The rain kept falling, and water droplets flew into the mortal world, shooting down like sharp arrows.

It smashed into the ground and split open, revealing the beauty and translucence of the moment it bloomed.

The young man stood quietly in front of the window, facing the summer storm that blurred the entire world. In front of him was a charred-tailed yellow pear wood zither. The zither threads on the zither emitted a silver light.

He played slowly without knowing who was watching. His fingers fiddled with the strings, emitting a buzzing sound.

In front of him was a zither score. On the score was the Eighteen Songs of a Nomad Flute. It was specially collected by the benefactor behind him and given to him.

The young man was very grateful to the benefactor behind him. Because of the other party’s recognition, he had a chance to cultivate steadily and slowly become stronger, allowing him and his mother to live a good life in the Falling Flower Pavilion.

He did not have to worry about his livelihood so he could study and cultivate well.

However, he had no clue about the meaning behind the Eighteen Songs of a

Nomad Flute because he had never been to the battlefield. He had been in the Falling Flower Pavilion since he was young.

The sky he saw was just the sky he could see outside the Falling Flower Pavilion’s window.

The furthest place he had been was the Literary Department. He only knew a little about it. He had never been to the frontier fortress to see iron-blooded soldiers, nor had he seen the savagery and ruthlessness of the barbarians.

Therefore, he could not play out the emotions in the Nomad Flute. His mental realm was also stuck because of this and he could not break through.

He was very helpless. Even though the existence behind the Falling Flower Pavilion said that he was talented, he still felt that he was too lacking.

The door was pushed open. A woman in simple clothes with a pitiful expression on her face slowly entered the room. It was Ximen Qiuhua’s mother.

After she put down a plate of freshly cut fruits, a gentle smile appeared on Ximen Qiuhua’s lips. His mother sat beside him and looked at the storm outside the window with him.

“You’ve been sitting in front of the window for a long time. Usually, you should be practicing the zither at this time. Did you encounter any doubts?” The woman asked gently.

Ximen Qiuhua originally did not want to tell his mother about cultivation because his mother was not a cultivator. However, after thinking about it, Ximen Qiuhua still spoke and gently recounted the predicament he had encountered.

His mother listened quietly. After a long time, she patted Ximen Qiuhua’s shoulder. “Do you see the storm outside the window? Think of every drop of rain as arrows shot by barbarians mixed with invasive emotions.”

“Do you still remember the hardships you encountered when you were young? And north of the Blue Wave River, on the land where our former homeland was trampled by the barbarians, there are too many commoners who have suffered a hundred times more than the hardships you suffered when you were young… When you see it, you might have some insights.”

“Right now, you can only imagine. In the future, when you personally step into the frontier fortress and step onto the shore of the Blue Wave River, you will truly feel the barbarism and terror of the barbarians.”

His mother spoke softly.

“Lin’an’s grandness and prosperity are built upon the tragic scene of the soldiers by the Blue Wave River using their flesh and blood to block the barbarian cavalry.”

Ximen Qiuhua looked at his mother. His mother had studied before and was once a young lady from a wealthy family. However, she had encountered a calamity and had no choice but to enter the Falling Flower Pavilion as a dancer.

His mother had been teaching him how to be a person since he was young. Even if he lived in an environment like the Falling Flower Pavilion, he still had to maintain the character of a scholar. He had to be different from others and not follow the crowd. Only then would his fate almost change.

His mother left, leaving behind Ximen Qiuhua, who seemed to have understood something.

Ximen Qiuhua looked at the summer rainstorm. The raindrops that he could not see their trajectory seemed to have really turned into arrows in his eyes. Those were arrows shot by the barbarians when they attacked the city.

A wave of oppression rose in his heart. The sound of metal spears and horses seemed to ring in his ears. The bow was like a thunderbolt. He could hear the furious roars of the soldiers and the sound of the rain of arrows colliding.

At some point in time, zither music sounded in the room. His palm touched the zither, and the strings were plucked one by one. The rapid sound drowned out the sound of the rain.

He followed his mother’s method and recalled his arduous childhood. He empathized with the lives of those people under the barbarian cavalry who were a hundred times more miserable than his childhood.

There seemed to be a wave of anger that slowly surged up. His misery was caused by his background, and those people’s misery was because of the barbarians’ iron cavalry.

The sound of the zither became more and more rapid as if it had fused with his anger. It could no longer be called a zither. He slapped his palms together, and the zither sound was like horseshoes, golden spears, and broken strings..