Wu Zhu was a very strange and mysterious person. In Fan Xian's eyes, Uncle Wu Zhu's life was very desolate. He had lived for over thirty years without a companion. Besides himself, he didn't even have anyone to talk to. Some residents of Danzhou Port even believed that Wu Zhu was not only blind but also mute.

His eyes were always covered by that black cloth. Fan Xian thought that underneath it must be a terrifying deformity, which was why he was so unwilling to let others see it.

Teacher Fei Jie called him Lord Wu, which clearly indicated that Uncle Wu Zhu had once been involved in the officialdom of Kyoto. However, his style of behavior didn't have a trace of "official" air, and even had very little worldly flavor. He seemed more like an immortal who didn't eat the food of the mortal realm.

Thinking of this, Fan Xian subconsciously looked at him. After asking that question, Wu Zhu returned to silence, coldly "gazing" at the sunset over the sea. The pale red light enveloped his body, reflecting off the black cloth over his eyes, displaying a fire-like, flickering color.

Fan Xian suddenly thought of a terrifying possibility. After pondering for a long time, he murmured, "Uncle, you were just staring at those仙山 (xian shan - immortal mountain) like scenes, you wouldn't be from the heavens, would you?"

He could now accept the existence of internal energy, and even vaguely believed that the heavens had eyes, which was why he had this life. But if his companion of more than a decade suddenly transformed into a banished immortal from the Nine Heavens, he still couldn't handle it – transmigration plus Xianxia would only scare him to the ground.

Wu Zhu shook his head and said calmly, "I just seem to remember a place I used to come with Miss."

"Are you sure you're not an immortal, and my mom wasn't a fairy?"

"Are there gods in this world?"

"Aren't there temples?"

"Who said gods live in temples?"

"Uncle, have you remembered something?"

"No, I just forgot something, something unimportant."

……

……

Wu Zhu stood up and nodded almost imperceptibly towards the sea, as if saying goodbye to something, and then said softly, "Let's go back. There are some things I can tell you now."

Fan Xian smiled slightly, knowing that the other party had not forgotten the promise: as long as he turned sixteen, he would be told about his mother.

Walking to the edge of the cliff, he took a breath, and the zhenqi within his body began to circulate slowly. His whole body adhered to the cliff. The zhenqi traveled along the meridians to the palm of his hand, being forced out of the palm's surface by less than a hair's breadth, then suddenly withdrawn back into the body from the edge of his palm. A slightly downward-sinking zhenqi contact surface was cleverly constructed between his hands – because zhenqi was invisible, it ensured that a perfect seal formed along the edges of his palm.

His palm was firmly attached to the smooth rock, relying on the suction of the vacuum to hold his entire body in place. Then, releasing the zhenqi, one hand would detach from the rock. In this way, Fan Xian seemed to climb down the cliff very easily.

Like Spiderman.

Ordinary martial arts practitioners, no matter how abundant the zhenqi in their bodies, could not do this. And the reason Fan Xian could do it was entirely due to his unique cultivation methods and physical structure, as well as his unique way of thinking.

In this world, all martial arts masters only cared about "substance" and "momentum." Substance naturally referred to the abundance of zhenqi in the body, while momentum was an almost indescribable attribute, somewhat similar to境界 (jingjie - realm/level). And the art of magic, which emphasized harmony with nature, was always considered a minor path unworthy of true experts.

In Wu Zhu's view, substance and momentum... were actually just the quantity and quality of zhenqi and the precision of its control. After ten years of his teaching, Fan Xian was now hovering between the third and seventh and a half level, with basically no progress in four years.

Martial arts masters would subconsciously regard the zhenqi in their bodies as some kind of disposable tool or weapon, like water, to attack the opponent. Once splashed out, they never thought of retrieving it. After a big battle, the zhenqi would be exhausted, but they could always meditate to recover.

No wonder everyone in the world thought this way. After all, once zhenqi left the body, the idea of retrieving it was somewhat like a fantasy.

But Fan Xian was different. The zhenqi circulation path in his body was different from ordinary people. The back of his body was like a funnel into the snow mountains, which meant that there was an opening there, forming large and small cycles with the outside world, so his perception of zhenqi was much more sensitive.

At the same time... Fan Xian was very idle, and also very stingy... so he kept trying to force the zhenqi out of his body and then bring it back.

After three years of hard experimentation, he could finally retrieve the zhenqi from the other side within a tenth of an inch of leaving his palm.

Such a short distance made it impossible to attack the enemy's body, so Fan Xian sadly admitted that his three years had basically been a waste of time.

But since he had learned some useless tricks, he had to think of some uses. He had to climb the sea cliff every three days, which he found very tiring. With a flash of inspiration, he used this zhenqi backflow trick for climbing.

Perhaps the truly outstanding thing about Fan Xian compared to the people in this world was here: his thinking was not limited by the era he was in, and he had no preconceived notions. Everything was new to him, and everything was possible for him.

Fan Xian swam down the cliff like a fish, looking up to see Wu Zhu already standing like a small black dot on the edge of the peak. He wasn't in a hurry, smiling as he looked up. He always liked to watch Wu Zhu descend the mountain.

Wu Zhu took a step forward, as if the ground in front of him was level.

As his foot hung in the air, his figure began to fall gently. Only every ten yards or so, he would casually extend a palm and press lightly on the rocks on the cliff, slightly slowing down the speed of his descent. After extending his palm more than a dozen times, he stood expressionlessly at the bottom of the cliff.

Wu Zhu's way of descending the mountain seemed simple, but the experience of direction, angle, strength, speed, and even the sea breeze, was calculated with absolute accuracy in that instant. Such a powerful calculation and judgment ability was definitely one of the top experts in the world.

If you considered that he was blind, then you could remove the "one of."

Although he had seen it countless times, Fan Xian couldn't help but clap his hands and exclaim, "盲帅一气 (mang shuai yi qi - Blind and handsome)!"