Chapter 4 - The Boy’s Tear (1/2)

In Autumn, leaves turned yellow and fell to the ground whenever an Autumn breeze blew by. Some of the leaves fell on top of a newly-built white marble tomb, instilling a feeling of gloominess and desolation.

All Mu disciples that were of higher ranks who died in battle were buried here, the Mu family’s cemetery. A few hundred tombs were built here.

A young man dressed in a white mourning garment knelt in front of a gravestone that had the words ‘General Mu Tian’ carved on it. He threw a few pieces of joss paper into a small pot and burned them.

“Father, why did you leave our family and me so soon? Father, did you know? You were the man whom I admired the most, and I’d never thought that you would leave me like this.”

Mu Feng knelt in front of the gravestone and muttered to himself. Mu Feng, a young man who bleeds but never cries was crying uncontrollably when he looked at his father’s tomb.

“Once, you told me that it’s a soldier’s honour to die in battle. However, we shouldn’t have lost that battle! That treacherous man, Nan Hao, set us up! If it wasn’t for him, it’s impossible that the entire 200,000 strong Mu army would be wiped out! It’s impossible that you would die!”

“Father, may you rest in peace. I promise you, one day I will seek justice for you and the 200,000 soldiers. I will never be a real man until I kill Nan Hao!”

The young man looked at the tomb and said while gritting his teeth. His words were full of hatred and murderous intent.

Suddenly, the black ring on his finger lit up and a jar of wine appeared in his hand.

This ring was a unique low-ranked Qian Kun ring that was forged by a blacksmith. There was a small space inside it.

Low-ranked Qian Kun rings were worth thousands of gold coins and were only owned by the rich.

Mu Feng poured out two bowls of wine and put them in front of the gravestone. He then picked up one bowl, stood up, looked at the countless tombstones, and shouted in a sad tone: “To all my 200,000 Mu brothers, may you all rest in peace!”

He poured half of the wine onto the ground, drank the remaining half, and shouted emotionally: “The Mu army never loses in battle, we only kill, kill, and kill!”.

The first kill represented great sorrow,

The second kill represented their defying spirit,

The third kill represented their lack of regrets, even in death!

Mu Feng picked up the second bowl and said: “This is for my father. Thank you for raising me and teaching me how to be a real man. Thank you for teaching me what responsibility is. Father, please rest in peace. One day, I will avenge you and all the brothers of Mu army by chopping his head off!”

Mu Feng poured half of the wine onto the ground and drank the other half. Then, he smashed the bowl on the ground and yelled at the sky.

A series of cries and sighs rang out when the other Mu disciples outside the cemetery heard his scream.

“God, why do you treat me like this? Why did you keep me alive but damage all of my Meta-pulses? How can I avenge my father and my brothers if you made me into a cripple? How can I seek revenge like this?!”

Mu Feng punched the green marble tiles, causing blood to drip from his hand. His eyes were full of hatred.

He knew clearly that all of his Meta-pulses were damaged. The ability of a cultivator to absorb the Qi of Heaven and Earth depended solely on the Meta-pulses. Without his Meta-pulses, he was no better than a cripple.

The first level in the journey of Wudo cultivation was known as the Tong Mai level. There were a total of 12 Meta-pulses in a human body. If one managed to open up nine of his Meta-pulses, he would be able to reach the Zi Fu level and store more Vitality in his body.

The third level was known as the Ning Gang level, and the highest level was Yuan Dan. These four levels were further divided into nine Skies each.

Previously, Mu Feng had opened up nine of his Meta-pulses at the age of 12. He reached the Zi Fu level at the age of 14, and Zi Fu Second Sky at the age of 15. He was a well-known Wudo genius.

However, currently, all of his Meta-pulses were damaged and his years of Wudo cultivation had gone down the drain.

“Why? What have I done to deserve this punishment?”

The young man punched the ground over and over again. Blood dripped out as he cried. At this moment, he no longer looked like a man of iron and blood, but a helpless teenage boy instead.

“Feng, please stop hurting yourself!”

Boohoo…

At this time, the young man was embraced from behind by a pretty girl in a white dress. She was about 16 years old.