Walking in the cycle of reincarnation

Chapter 45 The Visitor

In the mountains, there is no reliable calendar; the wind and snow, the darkness and light, are all that matter from dawn to dusk.

For seven days, Zhang Nanfeng has not stepped out of this continuous mountain ridge.

He hunted by day, practiced breathing exercises by night, and spent most of his remaining time studying the intricate threads of the universe.

He had once glimpsed a silver fox from behind the snow-covered slope.

The mother and her cubs were each connected by a red thread, and no matter how much the cubs fought and struggled for food, the red threads never broke. He realized from this that the red thread was the bond of blood ties.

One day, he passed by the foot of a leeward cliff and saw a pair of snow foxes lying side by side on the withered grass.

The male fox's hind leg was wounded by some unknown beast, its white fur stained with blood, and the female fox gently licked the wound with her tongue. A strand of pink silk thread was wrapped around the two foxes.

When the female fox gently touches the male fox's forehead with her nose, the pink line brightens. If the female fox gets up to forage for food, the pink line dims like smoke, yet it remains connected, never completely severed.

Zhang Nanfeng observed it for a long time, a bitter feeling rising in his heart, yet he also understood that these pink threads were the entanglements of mortal love.

Among all the various colored silk threads, the blue thread is the most extensive.

Every creature born on this mountain ridge has a wisp of blue silk hanging from its back, like the roots of grass and trees burrowing into the mountain's belly, connecting with the entire mountain ridge's earth veins.

He had even witnessed a hare being snatched by a falcon, the blue thread on its body stretched extremely long, taut to its limit yet refusing to break. Only after a long time did the blue thread slowly retract into the mountain rock.

Zhang Nanfeng suddenly realized that the blue thread was the bond to his homeland and the fortune of his birthplace.

The most unpredictable of all is the gray line.

He had seen an old otter, barely alive, lying alone by a stream at the foot of the mountain, its gray plumes drifting into the distance.

After the otter died, the gray lines did not disappear immediately, but lingered on the corpse for a long time before dissipating in the wind.

Zhang Nanfeng pondered and guessed that the gray thread probably represented an unfinished bond, a connection that would linger even after death.

As for the purple, white, and other mottled threads of various colors, he was still unable to decipher them.

......

Having figured out these tricks, Zhang Nanfeng became increasingly relaxed in his hunting.

He no longer needed to lie in wait in the snow; he could predict the escape route of his prey simply by following the lines of its aura.

Therefore, over the past seven days, nourished by both flesh and blood and moonlight, the white wolf's body has grown rapidly, almost reaching the size of an adult male wolf.

The golden threads on his back grew ever brighter, and his muscles and bones were tempered like refined iron. The wind energy in his tailbone was surging and overflowing, and the golden liquid in his poison glands was overflowing. The two fixed lights deep in his pupils had solidified into a tangible form, restrained and not leaking.

He once tried using the Wolf Gaze technique on a hawk circling a hundred feet in the sky.

With a sudden focus, the eagle in the sky froze in mid-air, its wings flapping in mid-air, and even the wind and snow carried by its feathers seemed to freeze.

Zhang Nanfeng coldly watched it plummet straight down from the clouds, crashing onto the frozen rocks, splattering blood everywhere.

He then tried the method again with a wild rabbit.

The hare was about to run away when he fixed his gaze on it, freezing it in place in the snow.

Zhang Nanfeng did not harm it and turned to leave. When he returned the next day, the rabbit was still in the same crouching position it had been in when it fled.

Its fur was covered with a thin layer of frost, and the light in its eyes had faded; it had been frozen to death.

......

However, as his supernatural powers grew stronger, the matter in Zhang Nanfeng's heart became increasingly urgent.

Tracing the source.

In those seven days, he searched almost the entire mountain ridge, but still could not find that perfect match.

He tried meditating on a piece of ice atop a mountain; he also slept embracing a withered ancient pine. He even let out a long howl to the moon, the moonlight pouring down on him like a waterfall. The coolness was pleasant, but it was ultimately just external nourishment, not a true connection between his mind and spirit.

All attempts have come to nothing.

After several fruitless attempts, Zhang Nanfeng stopped blindly traversing the mountains and fields and instead calmed down to carefully examine what true resonance was.

He began to reflect on what "resonance" truly meant.

In his previous life, he had stumbled upon an ancient jade at a used bookstore.

The moment he saw the jade, a strange joy welled up in his heart, as if his heartstrings had been plucked. Unfortunately, he was short of money and could only leave disappointed.

After that, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. When he went to look for it again, the jade had already fallen into someone else's hands.

In his previous life as a rat, he was confined to a small alchemy room, where all he could see were porcelain bowls and alchemy furnaces.

Only the poisonous toad in its lifetime...

Zhang Nanfeng narrowed his wolf-like eyes slightly.

He recalled the dark red snake scale on the back of Meng Lie's neck, and even more so the jade piece embedded between the scales.

The moment his tongue touched the jade piece, a cool flow of information surged into his soul, and he felt an overwhelming sense of irreplaceable dependence on it.

At the time, he thought it was just a rare immortal technique, but now he realizes that it was the resonance that the "Seeking the Source" realm refers to.

Unfortunately, the jade piece was lost in the southern border region when he died.

Zhang Nanfeng slowly got up and shook off the snow covering his body.

It seems that what resonates with us is not something we seek, but something we encounter.

You must travel, you must see, you must experience the world, and then, in a moment of sudden reflection, you will find that thing in the dim light.

If one remains confined to this mountain, even after ten years of sitting idly by, one will only be staring blankly at the stubborn rocks and vegetation.

He developed a desire to leave the mountain.

......

Zhang Nanfeng climbed to the highest point of the mountain ridge.

The wind here was fierce, whipping his white fur wildly. He stood on the edge of the precipice, looking down at the somber eastern sky and the molten gold of the setting sun in the west.

Looking out to the horizon, wisps of smoke rose from chimneys. A few dark dots could be vaguely seen moving about, resembling herds of cattle and sheep, or perhaps human footprints.

He had looked in this direction before, but all he saw was a vast snowfield, desolate and uninhabited. He had never seen any smoke or fire before.

After a moment's thought, Zhang Nanfeng felt relieved.

The northern nomadic peoples have always lived by following the water and grass, their felt tents drifting like duckweed. They can stay here today and migrate a hundred miles tomorrow, with smoke rising from their chimneys out of nowhere. It is perfectly normal for them to leave.

He was about to turn his head to look at another side when his gaze suddenly sharpened.

On the snowy plains of southwest China, a dark figure suddenly appeared in sight.

It was a horse, its coat a pure black, its four hooves flying, crushing the snow on the ground.

A slender figure was perched on the horse's back; judging by her long hair, she was likely a young girl.

Her hands seemed to be bound by wooden shackles, so she could only lean over and press herself against the horse's neck, urging the horse on with all her might to escape for her life.

Zhang Nanfeng's pupils contracted.

A hundred feet behind the girl, two other figures were relentlessly pursuing her like a leech.

The two men, one tall and one short, one strong and one thin, did not ride horses. Relying solely on their bare feet on the snow, their speed was in no way inferior to the galloping horses in front of them, like two arrows released from a bow.

His gaze returned to the girl.

He spotted it at a glance.

A silk thread stretched out from the girl's back, extending across the snowy plain and connecting directly to the two pursuing soldiers behind her.

The thread was extremely fine, trembling slightly in the wind, but due to the distance, its color was indistinct and difficult to discern.

Zhang Nanfeng stood motionless atop the mountain, silently watching the three figures speeding across the snowfield, and the indistinct line of destiny.

The thread, with one end tied to the girl and the other to the pursuers, was like a net that was quietly tightening, slowly enveloping the mountain ridge.