Walking in the cycle of reincarnation

Chapter 53 Breaking the Wind

Zhang Nanfeng trailed far behind that brown horse.

Wanyan Yue lay prone on his horse, his short hair dancing wildly against the wind, his coat clinging to his body, highlighting the young man's already resilient back despite not yet being fully grown.

She didn't rein in her horse or slow down, letting the stolen brown horse trample the fresh snow. As its hooves flew, snowflakes flew up to its waist, leaving a defiant white trail.

The brown horse galloped even faster, as if Wanyan Yue wanted to crush all the fear, humiliation, and blood feud of the past few days under its iron hooves.

Suddenly she stood up, abandoned the reins, and with her knees gripping the horse's flanks, opened her arms to face the north wind.

She tilted her head back, a smile playing on her lips.

That smile was extremely faint and wild, like a lone ice flower blooming in a cold plain, seemingly about to melt away in an instant, yet burning away all its timidity before withering away.

Zhang Nanfeng gazed into the distance, his four feet treading on the snow, and unconsciously stopped.

He gazed at the figure galloping through the wind, at the unrestrained joy on her face, and deep within his soul, the long-dormant strings of his heart were quietly stirred, rippling outwards.

He recalled his days as a human being, the year he spent in the small space of the alchemy room, and the time he spent honing his supernatural powers inch by inch in the cracks of rocks in the southern border region.

This is the third generation.

Zhang Nanfeng had reincarnated three times, skilled in concealment, forbearance, and calculating life and death, but he had never tried to throw his life into the wind and entrust his body to the galloping horse like this girl did now.

That wasn't about running for your life.

That was breaking free.

Wanyan Yue's wind-breaking figure was the first time in his three lifetimes that he had witnessed a concrete manifestation of life breaking free from its shackles.

Zhang Nanfeng stood in the snow, his white fur billowing backward in the north wind, revealing his taut, iron-like muscles beneath.

He stared blankly into the distance, a thought suddenly stirring within him.

So this is what resonance is.

A wave of ecstasy washed over him, but before it could spread, a bucket of ice water was poured over his heart.

It is simply because it is clearly written in "The Great Blood Creation Technique".

The source that is absorbed in the Realm of Seeking Origins must be a being without sentience. If one forcibly absorbs it, at best the foundation of one's cultivation will collapse, and at worst the source will backfire, turning one into a monster that is neither human nor ghost.

But the girl before me was riding a horse, laughing as she rode, a vibrant and alive sight.

She is a human being.

How can she be the origin?

At this thought, Zhang Nanfeng's heart sank. Watching that dashing figure gradually disappear into the distance, a chilling idea arose in his mind—

kill her.

Take her heart, or her head... and it can be incorporated into the body as the source.

As soon as the evil thought arose, a chill immediately shot from his tailbone straight to the top of his head, startling the wolf hair all over his body to stand on end.

absurd.

How absurd!

The girl swore an oath in blood, entrusted him with her life, called him "Anda," regarded him as an ally, and even more so as a brother.

Zhang Nanfeng had schemed for three lifetimes, yet he could never have fathomed when he had become such a beast.

We can't let things be like they were in my previous life...

He let out a low whimper, crushing the thought between his teeth, and with all four limbs exerting force, he chased after them again.

At the edge of the snowfield, Wanyan Yue finally reined in her horse.

The brown horse beneath me puffed out white steam and pawed restlessly at the snow with its front hooves.

She dismounted nimbly, but stumbled half a step when she landed. She reached out and hugged the horse's neck, buried her face in the mane and rubbed it against it, murmuring a few words in the North Plains dialect, as if to comfort her or apologize.

She straightened up after a short while and took out the chipped dagger from her bosom.

Scattered light filtered through the clouds, casting dappled patterns on the blade, yet her grip on the dagger was imposing, as if she were holding a scimitar, a scimitar capable of commanding a thousand riders and cleaving the land to establish a king.

She held the dagger diagonally towards the sky, the tip of the blade cutting through the north wind, through the snow curtain, and through the vast and desolate northern plains.

Her short hair fluttered in the wind, her chin was slightly raised, and her clear eyes reflected the light of the snow and the blade, giving off a powerful and domineering aura.

It was as if she was not referring to the void, but to the royal tent of the Toqto'a tribe, to the vast land of the Northern Plains, and to the heads of all those who owed her blood debts.

In that instant, she didn't seem like a fugitive orphan, but rather like a sovereign newly arrived in his tent, determined to shape the landscape of the grasslands.

Zhang Nanfeng stopped fifty feet away, his wolf eyes filled with a myriad of complex emotions.

He gazed at her, at the dagger in her hand, at her unyielding posture, defying the wind and the heavens and earth. Suddenly, a ray of light pierced through the chaotic fog in his mind, bringing clarity.

He got it.

What he resonated with was never Wanyan Yue herself.

Rather, it is... the heart of freedom...

It was that dagger, chipped and broken, yet she held it in her hand as a symbol of royal power.

It carries their unwavering determination and indomitable spirit, their will to break free from constraints, and the opportunity for them to swear an oath in blood.

It is the will of the heart, the embodiment of freedom.

Zhang Nanfeng slowly straightened up, shook off the frost and snow covering his body, and stepped out from the shadows.

Wanyan Yue was lost in thought when she suddenly sensed a change in the aura beside her. She turned her head sharply and saw that familiar, snow-white figure slowly approaching. Her heart leaped with joy, and her eyes crinkled into a smile.

"Anda, why did you follow me? I..."

Before he could finish speaking...

Zhang Nanfeng moved swiftly, so fast that he was just a white streak, and arrived in front of them in an instant.

He lunged forward, his front paws gripping her shoulders, and pressed her down into the thick snow.

Caught off guard, Wanyan Yue's head slammed into a snowdrift. Before she could even cry out, she saw the white wolf lower its head and snatch the dagger she was holding high in its mouth.

With the short dagger firmly in his hand, Zhang Nanfeng turned and disappeared into the distance. His four feet trod on the snow, and in a few leaps, he had covered more than ten feet, leaving only a solitary figure behind.

Wanyan Yue lay in the snowdrift, her face full of astonishment, staring blankly at the departing white figure, then at her empty palms.

After a while, she chuckled softly, the sound of which was carried away by the wind and shattered on the snowfield.

"Take it if you want."

She propped herself up, brushed the snow off her body, and gazed in the direction where the white wolf had disappeared, whispering:

"Anyway, my life has long been yours."

......

With a dagger in his mouth, Zhang Nanfeng sped through the snow, heading straight back to the hidden gourd cave.

He threw the dagger on the ground and then pulled out the leather scroll written in animal blood from deep within the rock crevice.

The Great Blood Creation Technique.

The blood-written characters on the scroll had long since congealed into a dark brown, the characters raised above the leather surface, and felt rough to the touch.

He lowered his head and stared at the short dagger on the ground. The blade was long and narrow, with a chipped corner. The hemp rope wrapped around the handle was blackened by years of hand sweat, but it had been rubbed smooth by its owner.

The dagger looked simple, crude, and even ridiculous, far less magical than Meng Lie's dark red snake scale.

Yet this seemingly insignificant piece of ordinary iron stirred an unprecedented and turbulent tremor in Zhang Nanfeng's heart.

He slowly crouched down, one wolf paw lightly resting on the dagger, the other paw pressed against his own heart. He closed his wolf eyes, calmed his mind, and following the "Source Absorption" method recorded in the scroll, slowly extended a wisp of divine intent towards the broken dagger.

The instant divine intent touched the blade—

hum-

A clear and melodious sound rang out.

The weathered dagger trembled beneath his claws, as if it had finally received a summons.