Wang Anfeng emerged from Shaolin Temple and began his journey out.
Past the mountain strongholds he went, until he arrived at the expansive training ground hewn by the Famous Sword Jue Que in the hands of his uncle, where the Qing Taoqi, armored in black, parted like waves on either side of him, creating a path, yet seemingly escorting him.
The mountain wind brushed against him.
Wang Anfeng calmed down a bit, and his face never displayed any hint of confusion or panic throughout.
He faced the mountains and the heavens, taking a deep breath.
Since picking up that Wrist Guard four years ago, an extraordinary world had unfolded before him. Behind him always stood his Master and elders, providing support no matter the obstacles ahead. A single step back meant a place of comfort and safety.
There was Master Ying, his Master, the second and third Masters, and the Taoist.
Now, there was no way back.
Master Ying might even become an enemy.
