Surviving In A Martial Arts World To Become A Saint

Fine rain fell like cream, silently soaking Gaolin County.

A passenger boat slowly approached the dock.

Chen Qing wore a simple blue robe, holding an ordinary oiled paper umbrella in his hand.

He stood at the bow, gazing at the familiar yet somewhat unfamiliar outline of the county town, his heart filled with considerable emotion.

Several years had passed, feeling like a lifetime ago.

The boat shook lightly and steadied against the gangplank.

Chen Qing disembarked with the sparse passengers, not alerting anyone. Like an ordinary traveler returning home, he slowly merged into the misty drizzle of the county town.

Following the address Wu Manqing had left in her previous letter, he passed through the streets and alleys to arrive at a quiet and elegant courtyard in the inner city.

White walls, black tiles, and vermilion gates slightly ajar, it was worlds apart from the connected, dilapidated fishing boats at Mute Bay in his memory.