Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Great Opportunity

Fang Xiao had a dream.

A long, long dream.

And the dream was divided into two parts.

In the first part, he became a tiger cub, roaming the mountains and forests with his mother. When thirsty, he drank the cool water from mountain streams; when hungry, he devoured the prey they caught. The cub gradually grew stronger, learning the hunting skills of his mother bit by bit. Until one day, he left the den alone to claim a new territory in another forest.

Days and nights passed, seasons changed, and as a tiger, Fang Xiao climbed to heights he’d never reached before. Through tempests and thunderclaps, he raised his head and let out a long, triumphant roar—within a hundred miles, all beasts bowed in submission.

And then, Fang Xiao transformed into a young dragon. He dwelled in the depths of a cold, shadowy pool, each night rising to the surface to absorb the essence of the moon. Occasionally, he would snap up a beast or two that came to drink as a midnight snack. But most of the time, Fang Xiao was lost in slumber, his body growing ever larger. At last, the little pool could no longer contain his massive form.

When the full moon hung high, Fang Xiao burst from the water, soaring skyward, gathering clouds to his sides, roaming the heavens, letting the fierce wind temper and refine him.

Then Fang Xiao awoke.

At the moment of waking, all memories of being tiger and dragon silently sank to the deepest recesses of his mind.

He instinctively pressed a hand to his chest.

[Crimson Sun Canon]

[Unshaken by Ten Thousand Martial Paths, Impervious to All Laws, Invulnerable to All Evil]

[Tiger-Dragon Stance (Perfected)]

[Demon-Subduing Fist (Mastery): 0/40]

[Experience: 29]

[...]

For the past several days, Fang Xiao had been diligently practicing the Tiger-Dragon Stance. Only last night had he once again invested experience into this foundational technique. Yet this time, upon advancing, he felt nothing unusual at all—so much so that he briefly wondered if he had added his points to the wrong place!

But the Crimson Sun Canon clearly showed that the Tiger-Dragon Stance had reached perfection—the highest attainable level. No further breakthroughs were possible!

And then, Fang Xiao had experienced that long dream.

Now, awake, his understanding and mastery of the technique had reached an unprecedented peak!

Drawing a long breath, Fang Xiao leapt up from the hard wooden bed, landing steadily on the floor. He felt a surge of power within, his energy so abundant it was as if he would burst!

Clenching his fists, he delighted in the marvelous sensation of muscles and tendons moving in harmony.

He was brimming with joy.

In three days’ time, he would begin attending the Six Rivers Academy.

With the Tiger-Dragon Stance perfected as his foundation, he felt confident that he could keep pace with his peers in the academy’s martial hall and wouldn’t fall behind. For the first time, Fang Xiao was truly confident!

With this thought, he opened the door of his bedroom.

He had barely stepped out when his old blue donkey came trotting up, eyes brimming with tears, nuzzling him pitifully.

Fang Xiao was momentarily taken aback.

To his astonishment, he realized that night had already fallen—it was not morning at all. In other words, he had slept for an entire day and night, lost in slumber until the world outside had grown dim!

No wonder the donkey looked so pitiful—it was starving!

Hastily, Fang Xiao fetched a leather pouch and emptied out the last feed pellet, giving it to the donkey. The feed pellet was extraordinary: for such a large animal, one pellet a day and some water were all it needed—no other food required. Fang Xiao also noticed that the donkey was growing more intelligent by the day. Although it could not speak, its spirit and wit were like that of a child of eight or nine!

Once it had eaten, the donkey’s tears vanished and its expression brightened. It turned and galloped off, soon returning with a bamboo basket in its mouth—the very basket that Sophora used every day to deliver meals.

Fang Xiao understood: Sophora must have come to the temple with food, found him still asleep, and left the basket behind so as not to disturb him. She had probably waited for quite some time.

Scratching his head and patting the donkey affectionately, Fang Xiao sat down to eat the now-cold dinner. After finishing, he shouldered his satchel and left the temple, heading for Ten-Mile Slope to hunt grass sprites.

Since the encounter with Lord Zikan, he had not returned to Ten-Mile Slope. Partly, he was focused on advancing the Tiger-Dragon Stance as quickly as possible, but he also wanted to give the grass sprites time to recover—after all, these low-level creatures weren’t inexhaustible, and to over-hunt them would have been foolish.

Now that the Tiger-Dragon Stance had reached its highest level, Fang Xiao was ready to harvest once again.

Yet, unexpectedly, when he arrived at Ten-Mile Slope, he saw only a handful of grass sprites—no more than four or five in sight.

It was as though a bucket of icy water had been dumped over his head, chilling him from scalp to soles.

He had hoped to gather enough experience to level up the Demon-Subduing Fist as well, so he would be even more prepared at the Six Rivers Academy. But how could just a few grass sprites suffice?

As Fang Xiao stood there vexed, the sprites spotted him and scattered, vanishing into the grass and woods in the blink of an eye.

Just like that, his chance at more experience was gone.

Utterly dejected, Fang Xiao circled the slope once more, but found nothing. With no other recourse, he trudged back to the Little Jing Mountain Temple, a sense of frustration weighing on him.

He had a strong suspicion: the spiritual bounty of Ten-Mile Slope had been completely exhausted by his own hand!

When he returned to the temple, he saw Daoist Peng sitting in the courtyard, gnawing on a massive leg of lamb as if he hadn’t eaten in days. In truth, Fang Xiao had only seen the old priest once in the past several days.

“Been to Ten-Mile Slope?” Daoist Peng asked before Fang Xiao could speak, swallowing a mouthful of mutton. “Back so soon—couldn’t find any grass sprites, could you?”

Fang Xiao was astonished. “How did you know?”

Daoist Peng laughed heartily, grabbing a wine gourd and taking a deep swig. “The grass sprites are somewhat connected to Lord Zikan. When you killed Lord Zikan at Ten-Mile Slope, it had quite an impact.”

Suddenly, Fang Xiao understood.

“It’s all right,” Daoist Peng reassured him. “I’ll find you another hunting ground. There’s no shortage of monsters and spirits around Little Jing Mountain. If that’s not enough, we’ll go to Great Jing Mountain!”

Fang Xiao nodded. He trusted the old priest.

“But there’s no rush,” Daoist Peng set down the lamb, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Fang Xiao, do you know? I’ve stumbled upon a tremendous opportunity!”

Fang Xiao was bewildered. “What?”

Daoist Peng grinned, rubbing his greasy hands together. “And it’s all thanks to you. Otherwise, this chance would never have come my way!”