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At Mount Wu in Guangzhou…
The sun hung overhead, its rays partially obscured by mist, forming a rainbow-colored halo. It was strangely beautiful.
Shu Yifan, the Thunderstrike Swordmaster, was already past forty. Although he had entered the Dao through martial arts, and the weakening of his vitality due to age had significantly slowed, much slower than for ordinary martial artists, his appearance aged more slowly as well. By now, his strength was no longer largely dependent on raw vitality, giving him an air of transcendence. And yet, in recent years, he had clearly begun to feel himself aging.
But this aging was different from what ordinary martial artists experienced.
Ordinary martial artists, after years of intense training, battles, and injuries in their youth, would find their vitality quickly fading in old age. In just a few years, their appearance and physical strength would deteriorate dramatically. Power, recovery, and reaction speed would all sharply decline. Once the pride of the jianghu, they would quickly become shadows of their former selves.
Shu Yifan, however, showed none of these obvious signs.
It was likely that even in twenty more years, when he reached sixty, the decline in those areas would still be minimal.
Yet the heart still aged with time.
The body was still heading slowly down a slope. Perhaps decades from now, he might not look much older, might still wield his sword like a thunderbolt, and perhaps be even stronger than he was now, and remain unmatched in the jianghu until the final days of his life. But once his...
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