Book 15: Chapter 100
“You all jump down from there, huh,” Ming Feizhen remarked as he gazed at the ceiling with curiosity.
The ceiling was several metres above where Ming Feizhen stood, which indicated that anyone who survived the jump possessed incredible qinggong. Of course, jumping up there from below was an entirely different difficulty. Usually, only someone who could set aside their rationality and be awfully imaginative could’ve made the jump as nobody operating based off predominately common sense would’ve even thought of attempting it. A goal without a developed plan to achieve it was just a goal devoid of strategy, not intelligence. However, the person who confronted Ming Feizhen vanished and then, from the ceiling, said, “There’s nothing there.”
For a moment, there was the afterimage of a human silhouette that was replaced with the undulation of his movement. Still, Ming Feizhen was still grinning in place as though that was perfectly normal. The armoured man didn’t cower just because Ming Feizhen wasn’t intimidated.
“There’s nowhere for you to go even if you jump up. We’ve been waiting there ahead of time to head down and meet you once you clear the three tests. Everything has been calculated. Feng Jiutian isn’t there.”
Ming Feizhen stroked his smooth chin. “Did I say aloud my thoughts?”
“There’s no need for the mouth to work if the eyes can communicate.”
Ming Feizhen was genuinely interested in Feng Jiutian’s last test. The man in black armour was definitely a warrior who’d fought in real wars based on his gaze. What was interesting was that he was more taciturn that one would’ve expected from a soldier. That being said, he didn’t exude the vibe of an assassin, either. Perhaps the best way to describe his aura was that of someone who’d seen so many deaths that he could stare at his own death indifferently, and he hadn’t had sufficient time to adjust from the fatigue built up. With that said, the fatigue didn’t appear to cause any detriments.
The warrior drew his broadsword and held it to his side. On the battlefield, he drew his blade and forged forward without any planning, as well. He had been too many places and seen many lands in search of a goal that he couldn’t reach in a lifetime. Breaks were just pit stops to reorganise. He didn’t have and didn’t choose to live periods of peace. If it wasn’t a decision he proactively made, he wouldn’t look so calm.
“Three rivers’ Qu Ji.”