I Am Unaware That I Am the Peerless Martial God Chapter 1446: One or Two Coins for Wine

Following a chance encounter and a night of spirited drinking, the world carried on as before.

Yi Feng persisted in his rigorous cultivation. His mindset in this particular existence was marked by profound maturity, rendering the transient affairs of the mortal realm incapable of disturbing his pursuit of the Dao. Regardless of how memorable the Man in Black from their previous meeting might have been, at best, he was merely a fellow traveler who had shared a table and a drink.

Or so Yi Feng believed.

Two months elapsed.

Yi Feng remained steadfast in his Dedicated Cultivation of the Great Dao. His days were spent either seeking out legendary secret realms or traversing vast provinces to engage in sparring matches with the most gifted disciples from prominent Sects. His martial prowess steadily ascended, and his renown expanded exponentially.

As Yi Feng's strength grew, so did the throngs of his admirers. Numerous female cultivators, upon hearing his name, actively sought him out. Wherever his path led, a retinue of young women invariably followed in his wake.

As the old adage goes, fame brings trouble to men as surely as fattening brings doom to pigs.

Crude though the comparison may be, its underlying truth resonated deeply with Yi Feng, causing him unending vexation.

Consequently, immediately after concluding a sparring session or emerging from a secret realm, Yi Feng would swiftly depart the vicinity, melting back into anonymity within the martial world.

With his cultivation that reigned supreme across several provinces, nearly no one could track his movements, and precious few had ever glimpsed his true visage. Yet, paradoxically, his legend grew increasingly embellished, and his admirers became countless.

Traces of Yi Feng became a rarity in the martial world, yet his sagas were ubiquitous.

Amidst this bewildering adoration, the world's fascination escalated to extraordinary levels. Some even maintained vigils for extended periods near Yi Feng's former Sect, lying in wait for his potential return.

Observing these developments from the shadows, Yi Feng couldn't help but shake his head and sigh with resignation. He recognized that simply visiting his Sect was now an unattainable luxury. Only by furtively returning to his humble courtyard at the base of the mountain could he truly find a measure of solace and tranquility.

In the blink of an eye, the eighth day of the third lunar month had arrived.

As the season transitioned from spring to summer, the sun had only partially ascended. Morning sunlight cascaded through the burgeoning peach blossoms outside the courtyard, casting dappled patterns upon the window panes.

This serene tableau brought a sense of peace to Yi Feng as he opened his eyes.

He rose, donned his attire, intending to hone his sword Dao amidst the floral splendor before embarking on another journey to spar with a prodigy from a major Sect.

However, to his surprise, the moment he unlatched his door.

A figure was already ensconced beneath the eaves directly before his threshold. Clad in the familiar loose black garments, a smile as audacious and uninhibited as ever graced his features.

Yi Feng recognized the individual instantly.

It was none other than that audacious young man with whom he had shared drinks previously.

Yet, today, the man's complexion appeared somewhat pallid, and a golden-feathered arrow protruded from his chest, a clear indication of severe injury. It seemed that each encounter brought this companion greater harm than the last.

Before Yi Feng could even utter a word, the man chuckled and mumbled.

"I'll leave after I rest a bit, I'll leave after I rest a bit..."

Despite his words, he offered no further discourse.

Nevertheless, his eyes couldn't resist casting glances into the house, as if searching for something. His injuries seemed grave, yet not immediately life-threatening.

Upon seeing him, Yi Feng immediately understood the situation.

Similarly, without wasting words, he re-entered his dwelling, procured a jug of wine, and placed it upon the stone table within the courtyard.

Just before his departure.

Yi Feng recalled a recent private resolution and casually left a note.

"One jug of peach blossom wine, the price is three taels and three mace."

Having spoken, he made a swift exit.

Yi Feng still had to seek out more formidable prodigies for challenges. The Man in Black, gravely wounded today, was in no condition to partake in hearty drinking as before. This unexpected reunion, while joyous, was tinged with a subtle regret.

The martial world, much like life itself, often defies expectations. Eight or nine out of every ten endeavors fall short of the desired outcome. He wondered if they would meet again, and if that future meeting would afford them the chance to share a satisfying drink.

After their parting.

Yi Feng journeyed to the Heavenly Sword Sect in Ling Province to confront their foremost disciple, Luo Yunchuan. As was his custom, he annihilated all opposition with effortless grace, decimating them like dry weeds. Where his sword aura swept, none could withstand his advance. His mastery of the sword Dao had reached profound completion, setting him on a path to unparalleled fame throughout the land.

By the time he returned, dusk had settled over the landscape the following day.

The small courtyard, bathed in the hues of the setting sun, remained as tranquil and serene as ever.

Save for a few bloodstains lingering in the courtyard, a testament to the thick-skinned fellow's presence, nothing else had changed.

As Yi Feng entered the courtyard, his attention was drawn to a note resting on the stone table, a scattering of silver coins placed upon it to prevent the spring breeze from carrying it away.

He picked up the note, the handwriting, once in blood, had long since dried, its color now a dark, rusty red.

"This old man has been short on coin lately. I've only got two taels and three mace of silver. I owe you a tael, and I'll settle it next time we have a chance to share a drink!"

Yi Feng let out a faint smile upon reading the straightforward words.

Remarkably, the fellow still possessed a shred of dignity and wasn't entirely shameless. Despite his financial straits, he was true to his word and had indeed intended to pay for the wine.

"Next time..."

Muttering the intriguing words, Yi Feng assessed the broken silver in his hand before slowly slipping it into his sleeve. The note was casually tossed aside, its fragments dancing with the spring breeze.

His gaze swept back to the empty courtyard entrance, following the path of the note through the vibrant peach blossoms, a flicker of anticipation surfacing in Yi Feng's eyes.

He had initially surmised that he would soon encounter the Man in Black once more.

Little did he know that this parting would stretch into a considerable duration.

Seasons cycled through: spring yielded to autumn, winter receded, and spring returned.

In the blink of an eye, a full year had elapsed.

Yi Feng appeared to have fully embraced a new existence. It was as if he were living a second life, embodying the White-Robed Sword God. His physical being, his spirit, and his comprehension had all integrated into a singular entity.

Throughout this brief year, Yi Feng experienced continuous growth, dedicating himself to the relentless pursuit of a more formidable sword Dao. He had traversed nearly all the adjacent provinces, finding no opponents capable of matching him.

He had unequivocally ascended to become the preeminent figure among the younger generation within the Nanli Nation, his renown shining as brightly as the midday sun.

Every cultivator was familiar with Yi Feng's illustrious name. Even the children at play in the streets could effortlessly recite recent odes in his honor.

"Sword aura sweeps across thirty thousand miles, the cold light of a single sword chills nineteen provinces!"

In the face of such renown and achievement in Cultivation, the inhabitants of the entire Nanli Nation held Yi Feng in immense reverence. Even numerous high-ranking officials from various Sects treated Yi Feng as an equal.

Under the widespread anticipation, Yi Feng was jointly nominated by numerous Sects to represent the Nanli Nation in the selection process for the esteemed Snow Moon Holy Land. As predicted, he swiftly attained the position of Holy Son within the Snow Moon Holy Land.

Yi Feng's prominence was, for a time, unparalleled, his status and reputation reaching an apex. Any Cultivation resources were readily attainable. The entirety of the Nanli Nation was resolved to marshal the collective strength of a hundred Sects across the land to propel Yi Feng towards unparalleled heights!

Offering aid during hardship is rare, while showering favors upon the successful is commonplace.

Following Yi Feng's destined ascent, akin to a carp leaping over the dragon gate, numerous Sects exerted their utmost to gain his favor. Although they harbored ulterior motives, aiming to forge advantageous connections, they still contributed substantial resources.

Even the top ten Sects united to construct a Holy King Palace for Yi Feng, its foundations piled high with resources bestowed by the various Sects. Furthermore, they dispatched numerous elite disciples to attend to him, ensuring Yi Feng could pursue his Cultivation unhindered while awaiting the selection day.

Under such generous patronage, albeit laced with hidden agendas, Yi Feng could no longer find peace in the modest courtyard at the mountain's base.

He was acutely aware of the Sects' underlying intentions; however, the sheer volume of Cultivation resources was too significant to dismiss. Since they were readily offered, why should he decline?

At worst, he would merely seize an opportunity to reciprocate the gesture later. The martial world is perpetually governed by worldly wisdom and inter-personal dynamics, where the exchange of interests is an everyday occurrence. This has become the established norm.

Consequently, under the gaze of the public eye, Yi Feng took up residence in the Holy King Palace. For a period, countless individuals arrived to pay their respects, only to be halted outside the palace gates.

Before the imposing gates of the Holy King Palace.

An unquantifiable number of prodigies, upon hearing his name, halted in their tracks, gazing intently for extended durations, reluctant to depart.

Yi Feng, the object of widespread admiration, was at that moment seated alone by a jade table in the garden, his gaze lost in contemplation of the blooming peach blossoms.

Once again, it was the season of blossoming flowers.

His thoughts inevitably turned to a certain individual, and to that unforgettable single tael of silver.

In contrast to the world's disingenuous pleasantries, such a simple friendship seemed remarkably precious. He could scarcely recall the last time he had experienced such uninhibited, hearty drinking as he had that fateful day...Perhaps in this existence, opportunities to indulge in uninhibited drinking would simply cease to appear. As the age-old adage proclaims, solitude reigns supreme at the pinnacle; the wisdom of the ancients was not a falsehood. Just as Yi Feng was immersed in quiet contemplation and heartfelt sighs, a report reached him from behind. "Reporting to the Holy King." "A man garbed in black seeks an audience at the palace gates. He insolently demanded a cup of wine, asserting himself to be an old acquaintance of yours. Despite his utterly common appearance, he audaciously utters such preposterous claims. Kindly grant me permission to go and discipline this unruly fellow..." The subordinate's indignation grew with each word spoken, his fury seemingly beyond containment. Upon hearing this, Yi Feng simply offered a smile and lifted his gaze. "It is acceptable. Usher him inside."