fynovel Chapter 40: Qingyang Revisited, Seeking the Truth
Chapter 40: Qingyang Revisited, Seeking the Truth
On the weekend, just as dawn was breaking, Lin Chen packed his bags and left the school dormitory.
The early autumn morning was slightly chilly. The plane trees on campus had begun to shed their leaves, their golden foliage carpeting the sidewalks. Lin Chen, wearing a dark sports jacket and carrying a simple backpack, hurried across the campus towards the subway station. In his arms, close to his chest, lay the three blood-written letters left by Chen Feng and the hand-drawn map of the evil formation. Though the papers were thin, they seemed to weigh a ton; even through the fabric, one could feel the weight of their entrustment.
There are over a dozen high-speed trains running daily from Tianlan City to Qingyang City, and Lin Chen bought a ticket for the next one. The waiting hall was bustling with people, and train schedules were constantly being announced over the loudspeakers. Lin Chen found a window seat and sat down, gazing at the railway tracks stretching into the distance, his mind filled with a myriad of thoughts. This was his first trip back to Qingyang City since starting his studies at a prestigious provincial university, but he hadn't told anyone—not even his parents. This matter was too significant; the fewer people who knew, the better.
Ticket checked, boarded the train, found a seat. Lin Chen sat by the window, backpack on his lap, gazing at the rapidly receding scenery outside. The high-speed train smoothly pulled out of the station, its speed increasing, the city buildings outside the window gradually being replaced by fields and distant mountains.
An hour later, the high-speed train slowly pulled into Qingyang City Station.
As Lin Chen stepped out of the station, a fine autumn drizzle began to fall. A gray-blue curtain of rain enveloped the entire city, and distant buildings appeared and disappeared in the mist. He opened the folding umbrella he carried with him and hailed a taxi in the station square.
"Go to the old town in the south of the city, Jianshe Road," Lin Chen said to the driver.
The taxi drove through the main road of Qingyang City, gradually entering the old town in the south. The streets here were much narrower than in the city center, and the buildings on both sides looked old, with mottled walls and rusty awnings telling the story of time. Most of the shops along the street were small restaurants, hardware stores, and general stores, with faded signs and somewhat blurred lettering.
Following the address on the first blood-written letter, Lin Chen had the driver stop at the entrance of a quiet alley. He paid the fare, opened his umbrella, and walked into the alley. The alley was deep, lined with old-fashioned brick and tile houses, their walls covered in moss, and the air was filled with the damp smell of earth. After walking about two hundred meters, he finally found the small shop called "Old Li's General Store" at the end of the alley.
The shop was small, with a storefront only a little over three meters wide. Above it hung a faded wooden sign, the lettering somewhat blurred. The roller shutter door was half-closed, and several cases of drinks and instant noodles were displayed near the entrance. The glass window had red characters that read "Cigarettes, Drinks, Daily Necessities," some of the strokes of which had peeled off. Looking through the glass door, the interior was dimly lit, and the shelves were filled with various daily necessities, seemingly cluttered but not disorganized.
Lin Chen took a deep breath, put away his umbrella, and pushed open the door to go inside.
The door hinges creaked slightly. A musty smell wafted out—a mixture of cigarette smoke, soap, mothballs, and old wood. The shop was indeed small, even a bit cramped; the shelves on either side almost reached the ceiling, and several boxes of goods were piled up in the narrow aisle, barely wide enough for one person to pass through. An old-fashioned incandescent bulb overhead cast a dim, warm glow, bathing the entire shop in a warm hue.
A middle-aged man with graying hair and a slightly hunched back sat behind the counter, head down, arranging goods in his hands. His movements were slow, even deliberate, as if each action was carefully considered. He looked much older than his actual age—his gray hair was thinning, his face was deeply wrinkled, and his eye bags were heavy, like ravines etched by time. He wore a faded blue work jacket, the cuffs worn and frayed.
Lin Chen knew he was forty-eight years old this year. Thirty years ago, when his meridians were severed, he was only eighteen, about the same age as Lin Chen now. His hands were covered in calluses—those calluses were dense and layered, not only the marks left by years of labor, but also the old calluses worn from practicing martial arts. His eyes were cloudy, making him look like an ordinary old man who had struggled for most of his life. But Lin Chen was not fooled by his ordinary appearance—he closed his eyes and carefully sensed with his star power, and sure enough, he detected a faint fluctuation of qi and blood within Li Mo's body. That fluctuation was like a candle flickering in the wind, which could be extinguished at any moment, but it was definitely there. It was the last bit of martial arts foundation left after his meridians were severed, like a broken sword, which, although it could no longer be drawn, still retained its former sharpness.
He is Li Mo. Chen Feng's junior brother, a comrade-in-arms who discovered the first Martial Emperor's manuscript together, and the one who has silently guarded this secret for thirty years.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Li Mo?" Lin Chen walked into the store, his voice not loud, but carrying a heartfelt respect.
Li Mo raised his head, his cloudy eyes glancing at Lin Chen. His gaze lingered on Lin Chen for a couple of seconds before he nodded and said in a hoarse voice, "I am. Who are you? Do you need something?"
His tone was indifferent, as if he were addressing an ordinary customer. But Lin Chen noticed that when the old man heard someone call him "Mr. Li Mo," his fingers paused slightly—thirty years had passed, and in this old town where few people knew his full name, a strange young man had suddenly come to his door and called him by his real name.
"My name is Lin Chen, and I am a student at the First Martial Arts Middle School in Tianlan Province," Lin Chen said, looking directly into Li Mo's eyes. "In the school's ancient book library, I saw the 'Star Martial Basic Fist Manual' left by Senior Chen Feng, as well as the three blood-written letters he sealed with star power. I have inherited the Star Martial legacy left by the first Martial Emperor."
Upon hearing the words "Chen Feng" and "Star Martial Inheritance," Li Mo's body trembled violently, as if struck by lightning. The goods in his hands—a package of unopened laundry detergent—slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground with a thud. His eyes instantly reddened, tears welling up, his Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice choked, barely able to form a complete sentence: "You...you really saw the three blood-written letters left by Senior Brother? You can activate...Silver Star Power?"
"Yes." Lin Chen nodded. He raised his right hand, palm up, closed his eyes, and circulated the Star Martial Core within his dantian. A wisp of pure silver starlight emerged from his palm, like a miniature star, radiating a soft yet resolute light. Although the light was not large, it brightened the dimly lit shop, illuminating Li Mo's wrinkled face and the hope in his eyes that had never been extinguished for thirty years.
Upon seeing that sliver of silver starlight, Li Mo could no longer hold back. This old man who had silently guarded the small shop for thirty years, this old man whose meridians were severed at the age of eighteen, turning him from a genius martial artist into an ordinary person, this old man who sat behind the counter every day, searching among the coming and going customers for a figure destined to appear—tears streamed down his weathered face, dripping onto the counter and onto the back of his calloused hands.