Chapter Forty-Nine: On Wudang Mountain

"How safe is it?" Mo Shan asked, looking up with a dazed expression.

"Not even an ant could get in!" Hao Yun exclaimed.

"Oh! ...Does that mean one can't easily get out, either?" Mo Shan asked in surprise.

"Precisely because it is a vital military zone, it is absolutely secure," Hao Yun replied.

"Forget it! In that case, I would rather head to Wudang and find Ruoxi's... sister," Mo Shan paused before continuing.

"That is fair. Mastering martial arts is the true foundation; relying on others will never lead to greatness," Hao Yun nodded.

The military simply could not compare to sects and academies like Wudang. The military taught only physical conditioning, combat techniques, and methods of killing, utilizing genetic enhancement to push the human body to its limits. In contrast, the academies were comprehensive, offering training in all manner of exotic weapons, access to rare treasures, and ancient martial arts legacies that the military could never hope to match.

"Could you give me a strand of your hair?" Hao Yun asked tentatively.

Since he could not convince Mo Shan to come to the base, he had to settle for a secondary option: taking a hair sample for study.

"No!" As soon as Mo Shan heard the request, he knew they intended to study his body, and he was firmly against it.

But then he reconsidered. They had even sacrificed Haotian to save him; was it really right to treat them this way?

If he couldn't even fulfill such a simple request, how could he justify his refusal? He didn't even know if his body was truly strange, and what could they possibly discover? It seemed unlikely they could learn much from just a single hair. Harboring a sense of cautious hope, he relented.

He was kind-hearted by nature. Gritting his teeth, he plucked a long strand of hair and handed it to Hao Yun.

"I cannot repay the debt of saving my life. Since you ask for a hair as repayment, I give it to you. From this moment on, we are even," Mo Shan said. He stood up, drew his sword, and turned to leave, his demeanor reminiscent of someone severing ties forever.

The moment he pulled the hair, he felt a sudden sense of foreboding—a brief tremor of dread—but it passed in an instant, and he dismissed it.

"This kid... if he doesn't die, he will surely become a master one day. It is just a pity his left arm is severed," Hao Yun shook his head. That air of effortless detachment reminded him of himself years ago.

For a martial artist, a severed arm was only slightly less devastating than a shattered dantian. It reduced one’s combat effectiveness by more than half. Since it was the arm used for wielding a weapon, it was nearly crippling; the inability of true energy to circulate through the left arm prevented the formation of a complete minor celestial cycle, drastically hindering cultivation.

When a dantian was destroyed, the true energy in the sea of qi would leak away, mostly dissipating through the pores into the air, with very little reaching the internal organs. One would lose the ability to channel internal force, becoming nothing more than physically stronger than an ordinary person.

"It seems only you will be accompanying me on the road ahead," Mo Shan murmured.

He lowered his head to sheath his sword and took the Wudang sect token from his pocket. The cool touch of the metal against his palm helped him clear his head, and he began the climb up the mountain.

As he ascended, the mountain path grew steeper, flanked by towering boulders. Slender branches sprouted from beneath the rocks, stretching into massive trees that cast terrifying, shadowy silhouettes under the moonlight.

The higher he climbed, the more labored his breathing became, and each step felt heavier. He looked up, and the path ahead gradually became clearer until a one-meter-wide trail appeared before him.

His eyes lit up. He stepped onto the path, treading over the pebbles. Looking back along the way, he noticed the path was impeccably clean, devoid of any weeds or loose stones.

He continued to walk.