259: Chapter 259 Eye of the Storm, Free Flight

Chu Sheng's cultivation had been stuck at the Middle Stage of the Spirit Nurturing realm for quite some time without any sign of loosening.

He wasn't in a hurry, though; such matters in Cultivate could not be rushed.

However, the Peak Master of the Tenth Peak saw it, and he took the initiative to find him.

"Elder Chu, this old man sees that you have encountered a Bottleneck in your Cultivate recently?" The old man stroked his beard, smiling.

Chu Sheng nodded, not denying it.

He couldn't exactly say that he had been practicing a Divine Ability, and had practiced until he was battered and bloody, could he?

The Peak Master of the Tenth Peak didn't expose him either, but simply said, "Shall we discuss the Dao?"

Chu Sheng's eyes brightened.

Discussing the Dao wasn't fighting; it was exchanging insights on Cultivate.

The older generation of Cultivator in Wendao Palace loved this most, calling it "meeting friends through the Dao."

Chu Sheng thought to himself: This is perfect. He didn't want to expose the Record of Divine Abilities, but discussing the Dao could provide him with new ideas.

The two of them found an open space outside the large tent and sat cross-legged facing each other.

The Peak Master of the Tenth Peak spoke first, sharing his insights from when he made a Breakthrough to the Dao Palace realm back in the day.

"The Dao Palace is not reached through brute force, but through 'enlightenment.' Once you achieve enlightenment, the door will open. If you cannot achieve it, it is useless to Cultivate for another hundred years."

As Chu Sheng listened, he was thinking about the "Fuyao Ninety Thousand Miles."

He had never grasped the essence of that Divine Ability.

It wasn't about running fast, or flying fast; it was about "becoming one with the wind."

But how does one become one with it? He didn't know.

He tried to immerse himself in the wind, but ended up battered and bruised every single time.

The Peak Master of the Tenth Peak seemed to notice his distraction and asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Chu Sheng replied, "Thinking about the wind."

The Peak Master of the Tenth Peak was taken aback for a moment, then laughed: "The wind? Interesting. Tell me about it."

Chu Sheng thought for a moment and said, "The wind is formless and intangible; you cannot grasp it or touch it. But you can feel it. It can lift birds, blow clouds, and churn up giant waves. I was just wondering, if I could turn myself into the wind, would I be able to go anywhere?"

The Peak Master of the Tenth Peak was silent for a moment, stroking his beard, and nodded.

"I had this same thought when I was young. Unfortunately, this was not the path I took."

He paused, then added, "However, I do know of a place that might be helpful to you."

"What place?"

"The Tianfeng Kingdom, the Eye of the Storm."

The Eye of the Storm was a Forbidden Ground in the Tianfeng Kingdom, and also the cultivation site of Grandmaster Jiang.

Chu Sheng had heard of it, but had never been there.

It was said that fierce winds howled there all year round, and the Spiritual Qi was chaotic; even Cultivator in the Spirit Sea Realm dared not approach it easily.

But the wind there was the purest in the entire Northern Region.

Chu Sheng went to find Grandmaster Jiang, and Grandmaster Jiang agreed without a second word.

He personally brought Chu Sheng to the Eye of the Storm—deep inside a canyon, surrounded by steep cliffs, where the wind poured in from all directions, creating a sharp, whistling sound.

The stones on the ground had been polished smooth as mirrors by the wind, and not a blade of grass could grow.

Grandmaster Jiang stood at the wind tunnel, his robes snapping in the wind, his white hair blown into a mess.

"Elder Chu, this is the Eye of the Storm. It is where I usually go into seclusion."

Chu Sheng felt the fierce wind, and his heart felt a bit of trepidation.

This wind was much fiercer than he had imagined.

But he did not shrink back.

He took off his outer robe, wearing only a single layer, and walked to the center of the wind tunnel.

The wind felt like knives cutting into his face, stinging with pain.

He closed his eyes and circulated the technique of the "Fuyao Ninety Thousand Miles," attempting to let himself merge with the wind.

Then he flew up—no, that was wrong, he was blown up by the wind.

His body was like a fallen leaf, swept up by the wind, flipping several times in the air before crashing heavily to the ground.

"Ouch!"

Chu Sheng lay on the ground, getting a mouthful of dirt.

Grandmaster Jiang stood in the distance, the corners of his mouth twitching, but he didn't say anything.

Chu Sheng climbed up, brushed the dust off his body, and walked back to the center of the wind tunnel.

The second time, he was blown against the rock wall, and a bump formed on his forehead.

The third time, he flew a bit higher, but his landing posture was wrong, and he sprained his ankle.

The fourth time, the fifth time, the sixth time...

Chu Sheng fell dozens of times, covered in injuries, his clothes torn with several holes, his face bruised black and blue.

But he did not give up.

He gritted his teeth, standing up again and again, walking to the center of the wind tunnel, closing his eyes, and feeling the direction, intensity, and temperature of the wind.

He thought to himself: This time it's different; he felt the wind speaking to him. Not with language, but with that intangible sense of touch. The wind pushed him, pulled him, lifted him, like an invisible hand guiding the way.

He stopped struggling, stopped resisting, and instead relaxed his body, following the power of the wind, surrendering himself to the wind.

Then he floated up.

This time, he wasn't blown up; he was truly floating.

His body was like a feather, suspended lightly in mid-air, rising and falling with the wind.

The wind poured in from one end of the canyon, carrying him through the entire canyon.

His speed became faster and faster, so fast that even his Divine Sense couldn't track his own position.

He swept past the canyon, past the hills, past the rivers, flying all the way to the edge of the horizon.

Then he lost control.

He forgot how to land.

He was like a kite with a broken string, drifting here and there in the sky, finally plunging into the canopy of a large tree.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Chu Sheng crawled out of the canopy, covered in leaves, with a frightened squirrel hidden in his hair.

He brushed the leaves off his body, let the squirrel go, and looked up to see the Peak Master of the Tenth Peak standing under the tree, watching him with a smile.

"You have talent, but you still need to practice," the old man said.

Chu Sheng was stunned: "Why are you here?"

The Peak Master of the Tenth Peak stroked his beard: "I have been following you all along. I was afraid you might fall to your death, and I wouldn't be able to answer to the Sect Master."

The corners of Chu Sheng's mouth twitched, and he thought: This old man is even stricter than the Old Grandfather. The Old Grandfather would at most scold him a few times, but this old man watched him make a fool of himself directly.

He took a deep breath, wiped the dust off his face, and said, "Again."

The Peak Master of the Tenth Peak nodded, a glimmer of appreciation flashing in his eyes.

Chu Sheng returned to the Eye of the Storm and continued to practice.

This time, he had learned his lesson; he practiced landing first, then flying.

He fell dozens of more times, but each time was better than the last.

By the time it was dark, he was able to fly freely in the canyon. Although he would occasionally hit a wall, at least he wouldn't plunge into the canopy anymore.

The Peak Master of the Tenth Peak stood at the edge of the canyon, watching Chu Sheng tumbling in the air, a hint of a smile on his lips.

He recalled when he was young, also practicing his Cultivate in such a death-defying manner.

Back then, he was still in the Central Region, and Wendao Palace was not yet that strong.

His Master was also an old man, even stricter than him, who would hit his palms at the slightest provocation.

Once, when he didn't practice his swordsmanship well, his Master punished him by making him stand in the snow for three days and three nights.

He almost froze to death, but his Master said, "If you don't freeze to death, you've succeeded in your training."

Later, he indeed succeeded.

Much later, his Master died, and he became an Elder of Wendao Palace.

And later still, Wendao Palace became one of the giants.

He witnessed the most glorious era of Wendao Palace, and also witnessed the darkest era.

He saw the struggle between Feng Qingyang and Ye Gucheng, but did not participate.

He knew that some things were not for him to manage.

He only wanted to guard the Tenth Peak, to guard the Foundation of Wendao Palace, and wait for a fated person to come.

Now, he had waited for that person.

The Peak Master of the Tenth Peak looked at Chu Sheng, thinking: This young man might truly be able to lead Wendao Palace further.

But he did not say it out loud.

He just stood there, watching Chu Sheng practice over and over again, falling down and climbing up, climbing up and falling down again.

The night wind blew, chilly and cold.

The Peak Master of the Tenth Peak yawned and turned to leave.

"Come back tomorrow. This old man is going back to sleep."

Chu Sheng landed on the ground, panting heavily, and shouted at him: "Senior, aren't you going to provide some guidance?"

The Peak Master of the Tenth Peak didn't even look back, waving his hand: "What guidance? You have already found the path; walk the rest yourself."

Chu Sheng stood in the canyon, watching his figure disappear into the night, was silent for a moment, and then smiled.

He thought to himself: This old man, he says he doesn't care, but he has been watching all along.

He turned around and walked back into the wind tunnel.

Tonight, he would practice until he could fly freely.

The night wind howled, and Chu Sheng's figure shuttled through the canyon, like a fledgling bird that had learned to fly, stumbling, but never stopping.

On the distant mountain peak, the Peak Master of the Tenth Peak stood under the moonlight, watching that figure, the corners of his mouth slowly curling up.

He whispered: "Like. Truly like."

Like whom? He did not say.

The night wind blew, blowing his white hair into disarray.

He turned and disappeared into the shadows of the mountain peak.