Chapter 8: Journey to Mount Lu

Mount Lu

Mount Lu is renowned for its pristine mountains and clear waters. Its ancient and picturesque landscapes, combined with the simple and honest folk customs, make it as beautiful as a paradise untouched by the outside world.

Though the world of the Saints was not the same as Feng Zhe’s own, there were still certain similarities. For example, the style of clothing—many still dressed as in the Qing dynasty, a detail that made Feng Zhe sneer with disdain.

Of course, such things mattered little to Feng Zhe now.

Before he had even set foot on Mount Lu, Feng Zhe could already sense a faint, inescapable aura of evil lurking in the mountains. The army of Hades was sealed here; besides the 108 Demon Stars left from the last Holy War, there was also a survivor of that war, the Libra Gold Saint, Dohko, who had been granted the art of feigned death by Athena herself.

Naturally, Master Dohko’s story did not end there. The fabled paradise, home to a school that mastered the all-encompassing technique, might also be found here.

“Are you a Saint sent from the Sanctuary?”

Just as he stepped onto Mount Lu, a bright, childish voice called out to him.

Feng Zhe looked up to see a sturdy, tiger-headed boy standing atop a large boulder, looking down at him.

“You are... Feng Zhe?”

Hot on his heels came another child in a short Chinese tunic and cloth shoes. Feng Zhe recognized him immediately—none other than Shiryu, one of the five young heroes. At this point, however, he was still just the junior disciple tagging along behind his senior, Wang Hu.

“Hey, Shiryu!”

They had both been chosen by Mitsumasa Kido and had trained together; naturally, they knew each other.

Shiryu leapt over at once, clearly delighted to see a familiar face in this strange and challenging place of cultivation.

“You two know each other?”

As the leader of Mount Lu’s disciples, Wang Hu could sense Feng Zhe’s formidable strength, even feeling a pressing sense of threat.

Shiryu finally came to his senses and explained to Wang Hu, “He’s Feng Zhe, also sent by Mitsumasa Kido to be trained as a Saint.”

As the greatest patron of Mount Lu, Mitsumasa Kido’s name was not unknown to Wang Hu.

“Feng Zhe, I remember your training ground was the Sanctuary in Greece. Why are you here?”

“Oh, I was sent here on a mission...”

At that, Feng Zhe revealed his outer cloak, and on his back was a massive box.

The sight of this box made Wang Hu’s pupils contract, and even Shiryu looked on in astonishment.

“Is that... a Cloth you’re carrying?”

Feng Zhe nodded. “I was fortunate enough to be recognized by a Cloth.”

Having emerged from the same place and trained together, Feng Zhe’s earlier attainment of Saint status filled Shiryu with both envy and shame.

A glint of anticipation appeared in Wang Hu’s eyes. He spoke up, “Since you’re a friend of Shiryu, why don’t we spar a little?”

With that, Wang Hu tore off his jacket, readied his stance, and looked eager for the challenge.

Shiryu, too, wanted to see the gap in their abilities, his expression earnest.

Feng Zhe chuckled softly, set the Cloth box down, stretched his arms and twisted his waist, then said seriously, “Come on, then.”

Given Feng Zhe’s strength as a Silver Saint, there was no real need for such formality, but out of respect for the tradition of Mount Lu, he dared not act impertinently here.

“Watch my fist!”

Tiger’s Gale Violet Lightning Fist!

Wang Hu’s self-created technique was already taking shape, and with his natural talent, he truly fought like a tiger unleashed.

Smack!

Wang Hu’s fist landed as if striking solid steel.

Looking again, his fist had been caught in Feng Zhe’s open palm.

“What?!”

Feng Zhe had not only seen through Wang Hu’s fist and its trajectory, but had also unraveled the myriad subtleties hidden within the technique.

“This...”

Sweat beaded on Shiryu’s brow.

He knew Wang Hu’s strength well and considered himself unable to withstand the Tiger Fist.

Yet Feng Zhe, who was of the same age and had trained for the same period, easily blocked it.

In Feng Zhe’s hands, Wang Hu seemed like nothing more than a novice.

“Damn it!”

Wang Hu swung again, only to be blocked once more.

He punched again—and again, the result was the same...

“Show me your true strength! That’s the respect owed to a real man!”

Wang Hu’s shout made Feng Zhe regard him with newfound appreciation.

Indeed, the Wang Hu before him was to his liking—a hunger for battle that truly stirred his own fighting spirit.

“Very well! Watch closely!”

But Feng Zhe did not attack him. Instead, he turned to the massive boulder where Wang Hu had stood.

The rock towered high, at least ten meters by the eye.

Feng Zhe fixed his gaze upon it and swiftly extended a single finger.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone, and then, with a thunderous crash, it crumbled into dust.

Wang Hu stared in disbelief, unable to comprehend that such a person could exist in this world.

Even more unimaginable was the thought—if that finger had struck him instead, would his own body have been as solid as that rock?

And not just Wang Hu; even Shiryu watched the entire scene in stunned astonishment. This was nothing short of superhuman.

A trace of fear flickered in their eyes, impossible to conceal.

“There’s no need for you two to react this way—he’s already a Silver Saint.”

An aged voice rang out. Following it, Feng Zhe looked toward the distant waterfall steps, where an elderly, short, purple-robed man sat in stillness.

This elder was utterly unlike the Gold Saints Feng Zhe had encountered before.

If Saga’s cosmos was proud and domineering, and Shion’s was tranquil and deep, then this elder’s cosmos was utterly placid.

He seemed a calm lake on the surface, but beneath that calm the currents ran fierce.

“Altar Saint, disciple of Gemini Saga, Alex, pays his respects to Senior Dohko!”

In front of Dohko, Feng Zhe showed no arrogance. On the contrary, he displayed due respect.

Shiryu did not grasp the significance of the Altar Saint, but Wang Hu, who had trained a few years longer, understood well, and his pupils shrank once more.

“Altar Saint? The one said to assist the Pope? The strongest among Silver Saints...”

Wang Hu’s words astounded Shiryu as well.

So many shocks in a single day left Shiryu doubting whether all his year-plus of training had been utterly wasted.

Seated atop the Mount Lu waterfall, Dohko gazed at Feng Zhe with eyes that had witnessed centuries, as if recalling something long past.

“So many years... to see an Altar Saint again, Teacher Bai Li...”

He seemed lost in memory. For a survivor of the Holy War who had lived 260 years, reminiscing was his only pleasure.

“Young Altar Saint, what brings you here this time?”

After a long while, Dohko finally asked.

Feng Zhe smiled and replied, “I wish for you to publicly acknowledge my teacher, Gemini Saga, the Gold Saint, as the new Pope. That is the truth!”

Dohko’s ancient face tightened, and a surge of anger flashed in his clouded eyes.

But the source of that anger was fixed upon Feng Zhe.

It felt as if he was being stared down by an exceedingly dangerous tiger.