Chapter 203: Sixteen Years Flashed by, Father Passed Away, Vitality

Chapter 203: Sixteen Years Pass in a Flash, Father Passes Away, Vitality Index 108,000!

The next morning, when the first rays of the morning star streamed through the window and fell upon Qin Feng's sharply defined face, he slowly opened his eyes.

There was no cold prompt from the system; this was a long-missed luxury of being naturally awakened by sunlight.

Following the routine in his memory, he washed up and then walked into the kitchen.

His father, Qin Dahai, had already prepared a simple breakfast—two steaming bowls of shredded pork noodles, each topped with a golden fried egg.

"Awake? Eat quickly, then hurry to school for registration. It's your first day on the job; don't be late."

Qin Dahai pushed one of the bowls toward Qin Feng, his tone tinged with novelty and teasing.

Qin Feng smiled, said nothing, and buried his head in the noodles.

The familiar broth, rich with the flavor of home, was deeply comforting.

After bidding farewell to his father, Qin Feng's figure once again appeared before the gates of Qiming First Advanced Martial Arts High School.

Decades later, this campus, where he had once poured out endless sweat and passion, felt both familiar and strange.

The style of the main buildings remained, but the exterior walls had been replaced with self-repairing memory alloy;

Above the playground, several floating protective combat arenas had been added;

The students coming and going still wore the same style of uniforms, but those youthful, vibrant faces were no longer the ones in his memory.

He was no longer a student striving desperately for grades, but had stepped back onto this land as a teacher.

After submitting his personal information to the HR department and completing the final iris and genetic verification, Qin Feng officially became a member of the martial arts teaching and research group at Qiming First High School.

His personal terminal immediately received his first work assignment—at ten in the morning, in A-3 Advanced Martial Arts Hall, to teach a basic body-tempering open class for Class Seven of the first year.

With over an hour until class, the HR teacher respectfully guided him to the teachers' lounge to rest for a while.

Pushing open the familiar door of the lounge, two familiar figures came into view.

One wore an elegant white training uniform, her figure graceful; her appearance had not changed at all compared to decades ago, and due to her life-level ascension, she exuded an even more transcendent aura.

It was Lin Yue, the mentor who had always cared for him.

Her strength was now clearly at the planetary level.

The other still wore that unchanging gray martial arts uniform, with the signature goatee on his chin meticulously trimmed.

Gu Yue, the mentor; time seemed to favor this old man especially, everything as if it were yesterday.

"Qin Feng?"

"It's Qin Feng!"

Mentor Lin Yue reacted first, her face showing uncontrollable surprise.

Mentor Gu Yue also slowly stood up, his usually languid eyes now filled with gratified smiles.

"Mentor Lin Yue, Mentor Gu Yue."

Qin Feng stepped forward and performed a standard student bow to his two benefactors.

"Sit down, sit down! Child, why didn't you tell us in advance that you were coming back!"

Lin Yue warmly invited Qin Feng to sit, personally poured him a cup of hot tea, and fussed over him as if he were still the youth who needed her constant care.

Mentor Gu Yue stroked his goatee, looking Qin Feng up and down, a glint of sharpness flashing in his eyes, and slowly nodded: "Solid foundation, restrained aura, returning to simplicity, yet with a boiling killing intent hidden within. Good, it seems you haven't slackened at all these years in Canaan."

After some pleasantries, they eventually circled back to the most central question.

"Come on, what's really going on?"

Lin Yue's smile faded slightly, and she asked with concern, "Why did you suddenly choose to come back to Qiming Star at this time to become a teacher? Did you encounter some difficulty in Canaan?"

Qin Feng was silent for a moment, then slowly revealed the explanation he had prepared.

"I was feeling a bit stifled at school."

His tone was very calm, "Every day it's either seclusion or carrying out missions, nerves too taut. Plus, I've indeed hit some bottlenecks in my cultivation, feeling a bit lost, so I wanted to come back for a few years, change the environment, and settle down.

The competitive pressure at Canaan Starry Sky Martial Arts University... is too great."

This reason was half true, half false.

The bottleneck was real, and the restlessness was also real.

Hearing this explanation, Lin Yue and Gu Yue exchanged glances, seeing a hint of understanding in each other's eyes.

"Coming back to stay for a while is good too."

Mentor Gu Yue smiled, picked up his teacup, and took a light sip, "Although we didn't study at Canaan Starry Sky Martial Arts University, we did graduate from other starry sky martial arts universities.

We know well what that kind of place is like—the competitive pressure is immense."

His gaze grew distant, as if lost in memories of the past.

"Trillions of geniuses from the empire gather in those top academies. Everyone cultivates like madmen, desperately improving their strength.

For what? For that ticket to the 'Cosmic Genius Battle.'

As long as one can stand out in the Genius Battle, there's a chance to be noticed by the Limit Warrior Corps, thereby obtaining supreme resources to break through to higher realms."

"That path is a pyramid built from the bones of countless geniuses.

Stopping occasionally to catch your breath and look at the scenery along the way is not a bad thing."

Mentor Gu Yue's words were like a warm spring, soothing Qin Feng's heart.

His two benefactors truly had his best interests at heart.

"If you encounter any perplexing obstacles in your combat technique cultivation, feel free to come to me."

Mentor Gu Yue set down his teacup, a gentle smile on his face, "In some basic theories and the evolution of combat techniques, this old bones might still offer you some different insights. You can still regard me as your mentor."

He paused, then added, "Of course, in front of the students, we are colleagues."

"Thank you, Mentor."

A wave of warmth flowed through Qin Feng's heart, and he nodded solemnly.

If he remembered correctly, Mentor Gu Yue's rank in the Imperial Arena was Gladiator, a realm far beyond the Starry Cup competition.

...

Time flowed slowly in a quiet and regular rhythm.

Qin Feng's life became unprecedentedly simple and pure.

Early morning, A-3 Advanced Martial Arts Hall

Inside the spacious and bright martial arts hall, hundreds of first-year freshmen stood in neat squares, looking up with admiration at the tall figure before them.

"First-level combat technique, 'Collapsing Mountain Fist,' the core essence lies not in 'collapsing,' but in 'mountain.'"

Qin Feng's voice echoed clearly in every student's ear.

He used no amplification equipment, yet every word seemed to be imprinted directly into their minds.

"What you should visualize is not the moment the fist shatters the rock, but that you yourselves are a towering, thick, and unshakable mountain. Power arises from the soles of the feet, passes through the waist and hips, penetrates the spine, and reaches the fist.

The entire process must be steady, heavy, and possess an indomitable spirit that overwhelms by sheer momentum."

As his words fell, he casually stepped forward, slowly extending his right fist.

There was no earth-shattering momentum, no dazzling spiritual energy light effects.

But in that instant, all the students present experienced an illusion—as if the entire martial arts hall had shifted forward an inch with the delivery of that punch!

The time of one class passed in the blink of an eye.

Qin Feng's teaching was not rote; every word was the crystallized experience he had distilled from countless life-and-death battles, hitting the core directly.

In the afternoon, inside the school's training room.

After finishing his only class, Qin Feng had time entirely his own.

He would go to the deepest part of the school, the teachers' exclusive training area, to practice the most basic vitality index cultivation.

Over and over, he would use his spiritual power to shake the "Supreme Origin Cavity," nourishing every cell of his body.

This process was tedious and dull, but Qin Feng reveled in it.

He could clearly feel his vitality index increasing at a visible, steady rate each day.

Occasionally, he would also log into the "Empire Arena."

He would lock his vitality index at the "First Great Limit" of 18,000 points, then frantically match opponents of the same level, honing his newly acquired fourth-level killing technique, "Triple Stack Spear."

Nightfall, Silver Gull Community, Limitless Martial Hall.

When night fell, Qin Feng would teleport back to the Limitless Martial Hall in Silver Gull Community.

This was his evening training ground.

He sat cross-legged in the center of the empty training hall, eyes closed, beginning to cultivate the top-tier meditation method he had exchanged for—the "Crystal Meditation Method."

In his spiritual world, a figure identical to himself, made of the purest crystal, was slowly taking shape.

The process of visualization was extremely difficult; every bit of condensation required a vast amount of spiritual power.

But each successful condensation would cause his spiritual power to grow a little purer and stronger.

After finishing meditation, he would begin studying the nurturing technique personally taught by Company Commander Zhou Xiong—the "Ten Complete Hands."

Progress was real.

But when he opened the panel of the "Heaven Rewards Diligence" system and looked at the "Ten Complete Hands" entry, the proficiency behind it was still the lonely [Not Started (1/10)].

He knew this was not a system malfunction, but that the level of "Ten Complete Hands" was too high; his current insights and progress, even accumulated, were not enough to constitute the "one point" of proficiency change.

Days passed like this.

Classes, cultivation, insight.

Three points in a line, as regular as the movement of the stars in the universe.

Qin Feng's heart, in this tranquil time, was gradually polished and settled.

The days at Qiming First High were like a quiet and deep river, flowing forward silently. Qin Feng completely integrated into this regular, almost rigid rhythm of life, temporarily sealing away all external disturbances and internal turmoil.

His world was simplified to the extreme.

Every morning, he taught the most basic martial arts knowledge to the new students, breaking down the essence of killing techniques he had refined from mountains of corpses and seas of blood, and instilling them in the most straightforward way into these hopeful seedlings.

Every afternoon and night belonged entirely to himself.

He was like the most devout ascetic, pouring every minute and second into excavating his own potential.

Time, under this extreme focus, lost its meaning.

With the blessing of the "Heaven Rewards Diligence" system, Qin Feng's progress speed reached a terrifying level unimaginable to outsiders.

Thanks to the terrifying gains from the "Supreme Origin Cavity" and "Ten Complete Hands," his vitality index increased steadily by 15.0 points each day.

The newly acquired fourth-level killing technique "Triple Stack Spear" accumulated proficiency at a rapid rate of 100 points per day.

And the top-tier meditation method "Crystal Meditation Method" brought him an annual increase of nearly 5 points in spiritual power.

In the blink of an eye, more than three years passed.

On this day, inside the teachers' exclusive gravity training room at Qiming First High.

Qin Feng was bare-chested, his bronze skin revealing smooth and explosive muscle lines.

He stood quietly in the center of the training room, eyes closed, breathing long and deep.

The perfect "Supreme Origin Cavity" within him burst forth with dazzling light!

A surge of life energy, several times greater than before, rushed out from the cavity like a breached galaxy, washing over every corner and every cell of his body!

"Boom—!"

An invisible shackle shattered within him with a sound.

That was the second great chasm before all martial artists—the "Second Great Limit" of 36,000 points of vitality index!

At this moment, Qin Feng easily stepped over it.

His vitality index officially broke through 36,000.0 points, entering a brand new realm.

Inside the meeting room, the two mentors, Gu Yue and Lin Yue, were quietly observing this scene through a monitoring light screen.

"Broke... broke through?"

Lin Yue's beautiful eyes were filled with disbelief, "How long has it been since he returned? Three years and seven months. He... he just crossed from 18,000 points over the Second Great Limit?"

"Unexpected, yet within reason."

Mentor Gu Yue stroked his goatee, his face showing amazement and emotion, "The legendary 'Supreme Origin Cavity'—its wonders are far beyond what we can imagine.

Ordinary martial artists, at the seventh-level Mountain Sea Realm, need to spend years or even decades of painstaking effort to break through each stage.

But for him, it's as simple as eating and drinking. This... is the speed of the Supreme Origin Cavity."

When Qin Feng restrained his aura and walked out of the training room, Mentor Gu Yue called him over.

"Qin Feng, come here a moment."

The three of them sat down again in that familiar meeting room.

"Mentor."

Qin Feng took the initiative to ask a question he had pondered for a long time, "I've always had some doubts. The empire's martial artist levels, from the sixth-level Soaring Sky to the ninth-level Ultimate Martial Artist—what is the most fundamental basis for the division of these four major realms?"

Upon hearing this, Mentor Gu Yue's eyes showed a hint of approval.

Knowing how to think about the root, rather than just blindly cultivating, is the trait a strong person should have.

He pondered for a moment, organized his words, and slowly explained, "Good question. Actually, the empire's classification of high-level martial artists was quite chaotic in the earliest days.

It wasn't until after the First Rebellion War, when the empire reestablished its military, that a new set of standards was introduced—the one we still use today."

"This set of standards discards all complex variables like techniques, killing methods, equipment, etc., and takes only the most core and intuitive indicator—pure destructive power."

"That is to say, the four levels—six, seven, eight, and nine—are entirely divided according to the maximum destructive range a martial artist can achieve using only brute force driven by their vitality index, without any high-level killing techniques."

"And coincidentally, these four levels correspond to the Four Great Limits under the cosmic rules."

Gu Yue extended a finger.

"For example, the seventh-level Mountain Sea Martial Artist."

The term "Mountain and Sea" is no mere metaphor.

It signifies that a martial artist at this level can, with pure explosive force, level mountains and evaporate rivers in a short span of time.

Should they unleash their full power on an ordinary life-bearing planet, the aftershocks of their battle could trigger tsunamis, earthquakes, and other natural disasters, instantly obliterating a city of a million people.

We call this—the "Mountain-Sea Level."

He raised a second finger.

"As for Eighth-Level Solar-Lunar martial artists, their destructive power is at the 'Meteorite Level.'

Once your vitality index breaks through the second great threshold, thirty-six thousand points, each of your pure brute-force strikes rivals the catastrophe of a hundred-meter-diameter meteorite slamming into the surface at hypervelocity."

"As for Ninth-Level Ultimate martial artists,"

Gu Yue continued, "they represent the peak combat power achievable by those below 'Planetary-Level Lifeforms,' hence the name 'Ultimate.'"

"Of course,"

he emphasized finally, "this classification does not account for the amplification of high-level killing techniques.

Take you, for example. Though you've just entered the Eighth-Level Solar-Lunar stage, with your killing techniques already at the 'Mastery Realm,' your true destructive power likely rivals that of an ordinary veteran Eighth-Level martial artist."

"I see."

Qin Feng suddenly understood, fully grasping the logic behind this ranking system.

Eighteen thousand points, the "First Great Threshold," is the threshold for "city-destroying," a minor calamity level.

Thirty-six thousand points, the "Second Great Threshold," is the major calamity level.

But the benchmark is an ordinary life-bearing planet; on a giant planet with immense gravity, this destructive power would be greatly diminished.

...

The river of time flowed onward.

Year five.

In a private martial arts room at Qiming No.1 High School, Qin Feng's figure flickered like a phantom.

In his hand, the sixth-grade alloy spear [Raging Tide] had become a blur beyond the naked eye's capture.

Threefold Spear—Mastery!

At the same time, his mental strength index quietly broke through 35 points.

This meant he had reached the minimum threshold to cultivate a fifth-grade killing technique.

Without hesitation, he spent the contribution points he had hoarded over the years to exchange for a new, extremely difficult fifth-grade boxing technique—"Hundred Boats Compete."

This technique required the practitioner, at the instant of throwing a punch, to split their mental strength into fifty strands, simultaneously manipulating fifty subtle energy modules to combine!

It demanded a mind divided fifty ways!

Its complexity was over a hundred times that of a fourth-grade killing technique!

A new challenge began anew.

...

Another five years flashed by in an instant.

A decade had passed since Qin Feng's return to Qiming Star.

For ordinary people, ten years is a long stretch of time.

But for Qin Feng, immersed in cultivation, it was but a blink of an eye.

Still in that same martial arts room.

Qin Feng sat cross-legged in stillness, eyes closed, mind focused, summarizing the earth-shattering transformation of these ten years.

A data panel visible only to him slowly unfolded in his mind.

[Vitality Index: 72001.0 points]

"Ten years of hard training, finally breaking through the 'Third Great Threshold' of seventy-two thousand points. Only one step remains to the 'Fourth Great Threshold,' the planetary-level threshold of one hundred eight thousand points."

[Killing Technique Mastery:]

[Heavy Spear (Fourth Grade): Mastery Realm]

[Threefold Spear (Fourth Grade): Mastery Realm]

[Hundred Boats Compete (Fifth Grade): Mastery Realm]

"All three core killing techniques have reached the Mastery Realm. My combat methods are no longer a weakness."

[Mental Strength: 60 points]

"Ten years, an increase of nearly fifty points of mental strength. Still forty points short of the minimum standard of one hundred needed to advance to a Planetary-Level Lifeform. This pace is still too slow."

[Imperial Arena Rank: Sixth Dan]

"Over these ten years, I've hardly undertaken any missions, focusing most of my energy on cultivating vitality and mastering new killing techniques.

Lacking sufficient 'killing technique material' accumulation, relying solely on three Mastery Realm techniques, advancing further in the Imperial Arena is as difficult as reaching the heavens.

This is also my greatest weakness at present."

"But..."

Qin Feng slowly opened his eyes, a condensed, almost tangible gleam of light flashing and vanishing.

"These ten years, the progress has been immense."

Now, with a terrifying vitality index of seventy-two thousand points as his foundation, supplemented by three top-tier Mastery Realm killing techniques, his combat power was already formidable!

...

Yet, when he brought this strength back to his home in the Silver Gull Community, what he saw was the most merciless face of time.

His father, Qin Dahai, was in increasingly poor condition.

His hair had turned completely white, the wrinkles on his face carved deep like knife cuts.

His once upright frame, from years of martial practice, had begun to stoop slightly.

What pained Qin Feng most were his eyes—once always sparkling with shrewdness and determination—now clouded, having lost their former luster.

"Dad."

Qin Feng's voice was a little hoarse.

"Back?"

Qin Dahai sat on the sofa, watching an old drama on his personal terminal, responding without turning his head.

Over these ten years, Qin Feng had tried every means.

He had unreservedly taught his father the insights from his practice of the "Crystal Meditation Method";

He had spent a fortune purchasing various potions to nourish the spirit.

But the results were minimal.

It wasn't that the technique was flawed, nor that resources were insufficient.

It was his father’s heart that had grown old.

He no longer possessed the drive to press forward on the path of martial arts.

For him, seeing his son’s martial achievements and his uncle’s peaceful life, he felt his life had been vivid and complete enough.

He felt it was time to go.

On an ordinary afternoon, Qin Feng made a decision.

He submitted his resignation to both Qiming No.1 High School and the Limit Martial Arts Hall, relinquishing all his positions.

From that day on, he was no longer a teacher, no longer a martial artist—he was simply Qin Dahai’s son.

He began to devote all his time to accompanying his father.

They went together to the busiest commercial district of Qiming Star, watching those novel holographic movies;

Qin Feng accompanied his father back to the corpse processing plant where he had once worked, drinking the cheapest spirits with old retired colleagues, boasting about the old days;

They even took a short interstellar trip on a starship, visiting those magnificent planets they had only ever seen in the news.

Qin Feng continued his silent cultivation.

But he had completely shifted the focus of his training.

Accompanying his father consumed most of his energy.

The remaining time, he used for only two things—practicing the *Crystal Meditation Method* and the most basic accumulation of vitality index.

His vitality index began to skyrocket at an astonishing rate of 30 points per day.

Soon, Qin Feng reached the barrier that symbolized the peak of a ninth-level extreme martial artist—the “Fourth Great Limit” of 108,000 vitality points.

His mental strength, in this peaceful and tranquil state of mind, slowly rose to 85 points.

The door to the “Planetary Level” was drawing ever closer.

…

Another five years passed.

On this day, like countless mornings before, Qin Feng awoke from his meditative trance.

But today, the house was eerily quiet.

He did not hear the sounds of his father bustling in the kitchen after rising early.

Qin Feng’s heart sank heavily.

He walked slowly out of his room and saw that familiar figure.

His father, Qin Dahai, was sitting peacefully on the living room sofa.

He wore clean, tidy clothes, his silver hair combed immaculately, a faint, contented smile on his face—as if he had merely grown tired watching a play and fallen asleep.

But his once strong and powerful chest no longer rose and fell.

All signs of life had left him.

Qin Feng walked up to his father.

He could clearly sense that the Yuan Qiao within his father’s body, which had accompanied him all his life, was still faintly pulsating by instinct.

The spiritual energy within the Yuan Qiao was dissipating at an extremely slow rate.

A martial artist’s whale fall.

On the tea table lay a neatly placed sheet of paper.

It was a suicide note.

That thin piece of paper rested quietly on the tea table, as if bearing the weight of a man’s entire life.

Qin Feng’s gaze fell upon the familiar, vigorous handwriting on the paper.

It was his father’s hand—every character seemed carved deep into the fibers of the page, as if using the last of his strength.

He reached out, his fingertips pausing for a moment upon touching the paper, then slowly picked it up.

[Ah Feng:

By the time you see this letter, your father should already be gone.

I foresaw long ago that my end was near.

Over these years, watching you toil for me, exhaust your mind over my mental strength, and spend countless precious resources—I am deeply moved.

Son, it is I who lacked ambition, who lost that drive.

This threshold of mental strength—I could never cross it in the end.

Ah Feng, in this life, I have one regret above all.

I knew my family was ordinary, knew I was too playful in my youth and missed the best opportunity for martial arts.

Yet after growing up and gaining wisdom, I nurtured ambitions I should not have had.

I wanted to fight in the martial path, to seek fortune on the battlefield, to give you and your mother a better life.

But once I went to the battlefield, years passed.

By the time I returned, your mother was gone, and you, because of that damned disaster, had fallen ill with lasting consequences.

… Enough, let’s not dwell on that.

I don’t know what grievances you suffered in Canaan that made you come back alone.

But, child… you must understand that even an emperor as wise as His Majesty, after his passing, still endured countless slanders, curses, distortions, and misunderstandings from later generations…

The life of a great man is always lonely.

Ah Feng, in your father’s heart, you will surely be a great man recorded in the empire’s history.

You must face all this with strength.

Ah Feng, your father is leaving.

In this life, to see you grow from a sickly child into the towering man you are today—I am content.

After my death, scatter my ashes among the cosmic dust.

Do not erect a monument for me.

—Your father, Qin Dahai]

The letter ended there.

No ornate words, no profound truths—only a simple father’s most unadorned love for his son, and the deepest regret for his own life.

Qin Feng stood silently, gazing at the suicide note for a long, long time.

In the meeting room, Instructor Yu Han’s cold discourse on “interests” and “sacrifice” seemed to echo in his ears.

Company Commander Zhou Xiong’s “Imperial Iron Law,” pronounced like a divine judgment, still weighed on his heart.

Slowly, carefully, he folded the paper that bore the weight of his father’s life.

Then, from his subspace storage unit, he took out a box made of sixth-level memory alloy, sealed the letter inside, and tucked it back into the subspace storage unit.

He walked slowly to the window, his gaze piercing through the glass, looking out at that familiar sky above the Silver Gull Community.

His vision gradually blurred and receded.

Before his eyes, another scene seemed to emerge—a portrait of his father's life spanning nearly a century.

He saw a boy from an ordinary family, naturally fond of play.

He did not choose tedious cultivation; instead, he spent his entire happy childhood in the streets and alleys, chasing and frolicking.

Later, the boy grew up.

He married, had a child, and built a happy and fulfilling family.

He watched his babbling son, saw the gentle smile on his wife's face, and he matured, feeling for the first time the weight called "responsibility."

He wanted to earn more money, to give his family the best life possible.

But because in his youth he had missed the Empire's unified martial arts high school education system, he lost the chance to enter higher institutions and become an elite.

The only path left was the most dangerous and most likely to skyrocket—a narrow bridge: go to the battlefield, risk his life for a stroke of fortune.

He went.

He succeeded, and he failed.

Success: relying on a fierce tenacity and extraordinary talent, he carved a bloody path through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, broke through, and became a respected third-level martial artist.

Failure: the price he paid was a burden too heavy for his life to bear. When he returned covered in honors and scars, what awaited him was not his wife's embrace, but a cold tombstone.

His son, in that disaster that swept the entire community, was severely injured and fell ill with an incurable strange disease.

His elderly parents also passed away one after another after his return.

There is no greater sorrow than a dead heart.

From that moment, the flame called "ambition" in his heart was completely extinguished.

He devoted all his energy in the latter half of his life to one thing: curing his son.

He dared not go to the battlefield again to risk his life for money.

Because he was afraid—afraid that if he died, his son would have no one to rely on.

……

Qin Feng slowly withdrew his gaze, and the illusion before him switched to another scene.

It was the scene after he had fully restored his foundation and trained hard for a month.

That year, he was sixteen.

He told his father:

"Dad, my illness is cured."

"My vitality index has reached 1.23!"

That night, his father was first stunned, then overjoyed.

But as he laughed, he went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Young as he was, he didn't think much of it at the time.

But now, he could clearly "see" behind that tightly shut door: the man who had been strong all his life was desperately covering his mouth.

His father crouched on the ground, trembling silently, letting the tears that had been suppressed for ten years—tears containing endless bitterness, pain, and relief—flow freely down his face.

He just didn't want his son to see his vulnerable side.

……

In a daze of consciousness.

A drop of scalding liquid uncontrollably slipped from the corner of Qin Feng's eye.

Yet this tear didn't even leave his cheek.

As soon as it appeared, it instantly evaporated, turning into a wisp of barely perceptible vapor, dissipating into the air.

Qin Feng came back to his senses.

He began to arrange his father's funeral.

Everything was kept simple.

No memorial service was held; he only informed his uncle Wang Ming's family.

This was his father's last wish.

Quietly, alone, he completed all the procedures.

Finally, he rented a small private interstellar spacecraft, left the atmosphere of Qiming Star, and arrived at this cold and vast sea of stars he had crossed countless times.

He changed into the simplest black training uniform and stood at the rear hatch of the ship.

In his hands, he held a box made of the plainest nanmu wood.

He opened the box.

Inside was the last trace his father left in this world.

Qin Feng reached out and scattered the gray-white ashes into the endless void before him.

There was no wind.

In absolute vacuum, those fine particles did not drift apart.

Instead, following the purest laws of physics, they formed a small cloud of gray-white interstellar dust, silently suspended in that profound darkness, shimmering in harmony with the billions of brilliant stars in the distance.

Qin Feng watched quietly as that tiny nebula, under the weak gravitational perturbation of the ship's engines, slowly drifted away into the deeper, unknown darkness.

Finally, it disappeared.

From then on, among the sea of stars, there was no longer Qin Dahai.

From then on, there was only Qin Feng alone.

——

When Qin Feng returned to the Silver Gull Community on Qiming Star, dusk was approaching.

The afterglow of the setting sun bathed the entire city in a warm gold.

On the streets, traffic flowed like a river, people came and went, full of the breath of life.

But this liveliness no longer concerned him.

Qin Feng returned to that familiar home.

Pushing open the door, an indescribable emptiness rushed toward him.

It was still as he remembered: the sofa, the coffee table, the old photos on the wall... nothing had changed.

But the figure that always smiled and greeted him when he came home was gone forever.

This house, from now on, was just a house, no longer a home.

In the following days, Qin Feng handled all the remaining matters with a nearly mechanical calm and efficiency.

He went to the civil affairs department to cancel his father's identity information, then went to the property management center to complete the inheritance procedures.

This old house in the Silver Gull Community, along with all the memories it holds, will be preserved forever.

It will become an eternal coordinate for him in this universe, an anchor for his spirit.

No matter how far he roams in the future, this is the starting point to which he can always return.

When all the formalities were settled, Qin Feng returned once more to this empty house.

He didn’t turn on the lights, just sat quietly on the sofa his father had loved most in life, letting the twilight outside slowly swallow his silhouette.

Boundless loneliness, like a deep, icy tide, surged from all directions, trying to drown him completely.

He recalled the words from his father’s suicide note.

“The life of a great man is always lonely.”

A self-deprecating smile curled at the corner of Qin Feng’s mouth.

Would he be a great man?

Qin Feng didn’t know.

But he would strive to become one.

In this extreme stillness, he began to calmly assess his current strength and the path ahead.

A light screen, visible only to him, unfolded silently in his mind, listing cold and precise data.

“Vitality index: one hundred eight thousand points.”

“Thanks to the ‘Ten Complete Hands,’ the ‘Supreme Yuan Cavity,’ and a physical constitution rivaling the potential of a ‘Star Beast,’

these fifteen years of accumulation have pushed my vitality to the theoretical limit of a ninth-level ultimate martial artist, touching the barrier of the ‘Fourth Great Limit.’

To advance further, I must undergo a leap in life level, breaking through to the planetary stage.”

“The key to breaking through lies in mental strength.”

“Mental strength index: eighty-five points.”

“Fifteen points short of the minimum standard of one hundred. At the current pace of practicing the ‘Crystal Meditation Method,’ it will take about three more years.”

“As for killing techniques…”

Qin Feng’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Too far behind.”

This was a fortunate trouble.

His vitality index had increased too rapidly, so fast that his killing technique realm could barely keep up.

“The fourth-level killing techniques ‘Heavy Spear’ and ‘Triple Stack Spear,’ and the fifth-level ‘Hundred Boats Competing,’ have all reached the ‘Control Realm,’ but I haven’t yet mastered a single sixth-level killing technique.”

“My rank in the Imperial Arena remains at the sixth tier. This proves a huge shortfall in my killing techniques. No help for it—only when my mental strength index reaches one hundred points can I practice sixth-level techniques.”

“Once my mental strength index hits one hundred, I’ll return to school.”

In his heart, Qin Feng set a clear plan for himself.

“Loneliness is normal.”

His fingers unconsciously traced the smooth texture on the sofa armrest, worn by his father’s years of leaning.

“The path of greatness is always lonely.”

He softly repeated his father’s words.

…

Time, once again, flowed forward with an indifferent demeanor.

Qin Feng did not leave the Silver Gull Community. He stayed in this empty house, living a life of bitter cultivation even more barren and pure than the past fifteen years.

By day, he went to the Limit Martial Arts Hall, like an ordinary trainee, honing his fist techniques and spear arts over and over in the gravity chamber.

He tempered those three “Control Realm” killing techniques a thousand times, fusing them into his marrow.

By night, he returned home, immersing all his mind in the visualization of the “Crystal Meditation Method.”

In his spiritual world, the deity made of pure crystal grew ever more solid, ever more radiant.

One year later.

When Qin Feng awoke again from deep meditation, his mental strength index had quietly broken through the ninety-point mark.

Only the final, painstaking refinement remained to reach one hundred points.

Everything was steadily advancing in the direction he had planned.

Yet, on an ordinary afternoon, a sudden, special alert from the Imperial Task System shattered this tranquility.

“Beep—!”

Qin Feng raised an eyebrow and opened his personal terminal.

In the long-dormant task column, a pursuit mission he had pinned, with an extremely high permission level, suddenly flashed with glaring red light.

[Pursuit Mission: ‘Shi Dang’]

[Target’s latest location coordinates updated…]

On the light screen, a series of complex star coordinates clearly emerged. The region they pointed to was a gray zone on the empire’s border, notorious for chaos and bloodshed—the “Taranis Star Spiral.”

“Heh, they’re urging me.”

Over the years, Qin Feng had seen through the tricks of Zhou Xiong and Yu Han back then.

If they had allowed Shi Dang to massacre ordinary imperial citizens and forbade other martial artists from taking the mission, how could the latest coordinates have been updated?

Someone must have been tailing Shi Dang all along.

And Shi Dang’s killings were kept within controllable bounds, likely targeting imperial prisoners.

“Back then, I was immature, not calm.”

“Now it’s time to go.”

Qin Feng slowly stood up.

Then he turned and left, locking the door of the Silver Gull Community property.

With a thought,

the ferocious, heavy sixth-level power armor [Destroyer Type I], stored in the subspace storage unit, flowed into streams of light, rapidly covering his entire body.

The cold touch of metal instantly awakened his long-dormant combat instincts.

He extended his right hand, and the sixth-level alloy long spear [Raging Waves], which had accompanied him through countless bloody battles, silently appeared in his palm.

The spear trembled slightly, emitting a dragon-like hum, thirsting for blood.

In Qin Feng’s eyes, there was no longer any trace of peace or tranquility. Instead, there was the absolute calm of ten-thousand-year-old ice and the boiling, seething murderous intent of the earth’s molten core!

Space rippled like water.

The next second, his figure vanished completely.

(End of chapter)