He still had three large spirit stones in his storage pouch, but he dared not use them.
After a long period of cultivation, he realized that replicating the wooden flying sword back then had been a terrible waste.
These large spirit stones were extraordinary; otherwise, they couldn't have replicated the Jade-Slicing Blood Essence.
"Unless absolutely necessary, I must not use these spirit stones. They might have a greater purpose later."
Meng Hao made up his mind, then his body transformed into a streak of crimson light. The treasured fan beneath his feet swirled as he flew into the distance.
He pondered, then the spiritual energy in his body changed, and the aura surrounding the treasured fan beneath his feet dissipated. Only then did he feel at ease to shoot forward.
"Several months have passed; those disciples from the Purple Cloud Sect should have left by now."
Meng Hao carefully considered.
He looked into the distance, and after some calculation, he figured that his current location was close to the capital city of the State of Zhao.
That was a place near the Great Tang of the Eastern Lands, a place he had always dreamed of visiting.
Recalling the three years he had diligently studied for the imperial examinations only to fail, he was no longer a scholar but a cultivator.
Everything had changed unexpectedly.
Approaching the capital city of the State of Zhao, Meng Hao walked along the main road, his long hair tied high, his outer robe making him indistinguishable from an ordinary scholar. Only his body had become more slender, his skin tanned, and his demeanor much more vibrant.
With each step he took, snowflakes drifted down.
The ground was covered by a layer of white snow.
The surrounding space was quiet.
The closer he got to the capital city, the more carriages appeared.
As Meng Hao walked, a carriage appeared behind him, moving at a very high speed as if about to miss something.
As it passed Meng Hao, the curtain was blown open by the wind, revealing a scholar inside who was engrossed in reading.
Meng Hao glanced at the scholar, his gaze calm, as if looking at himself from several years ago.
He sighed softly, wanting to continue walking, but the carriage suddenly stopped, waiting for Meng Hao to approach.
The scholar stepped down from the carriage and bowed to Meng Hao.
"Brother, are you also going to the capital city of the State of Zhao to participate in the imperial examinations?"
"In the past, I harbored dreams of passing, but now those dreams are gone."
Meng Hao quickly returned the bow and replied.
"What a pity! Brother, you possess extraordinary bearing. Why give up so early?"
The scholar looked at Meng Hao, whose age was not far from his own, and expressed regret.
Meng Hao merely shook his head, not answering.
"Never mind. The snow is thick, and the roads are not easy to travel.
If you're worried about not making it into the city in time, perhaps Brother could travel with me. We might still make it."
The scholar smiled and said to Meng Hao.
Meng Hao looked up at the sky, then at the scholar in front of him, clasped his hands in thanks, and got into the carriage with the other party.
Inside the carriage, a bronze censer glowed with red embers, its heat dispelling the cold outside.
From this, it could be seen that the scholar's family background was not low, and the old man driving the carriage was also skilled in martial arts.
"This humble one is Zheng Rong. Brother, there's no need to be formal.
We are all men of letters; when out and about, we should help each other."
Zheng Rong waved his hand and smiled at Meng Hao.
"This humble one is Meng Hao. Many thanks, Brother Zheng!"
Meng Hao also smiled in return.
He looked at the book in Zheng Rong's hand. From the handwriting and the scent emanating from it, he could tell it was definitely an ancient book.
"Brother's surname is Meng?"
Upon hearing this, Zheng Rong's expression became serious. The cramped space in the carriage made him want to bow, but he couldn't.
"So, Brother is also from a prominent aristocratic family. Please forgive this Zheng for his disrespect."
"Brother Zheng, why be so formal? It's just a name. Even if my ancestors were glorious, I, their descendant, have failed the imperial examinations many times and feel ashamed."
Meng Hao cupped his hands in return.
"Brother Meng, that's not quite right."
"Even if the previous generation is gone, and the later generation hasn't passed the imperial examinations, as long as one holds humanity and propriety in their heart, they are a great Confucian scholar."
Zheng Rong said seriously.
"Brother Zheng, what is Confucianism?"
Meng Hao was silent. After a moment, he looked up at Zheng Rong and asked.
"Propriety, music, benevolence, righteousness, and the Doctrine of the Mean — that is Confucianism."
Zheng Rong answered without hesitation.
Meng Hao didn't reply immediately. He looked out the window at the falling snow, and after a while, he said,
"Then what about life?"
"Life?"
Zheng Rong paused slightly, not answering right away.
The space in the carriage became quiet. Wind and snow drifted outside the carriage window.
Meng Hao raised his hand, extending it out the window, catching the snowflakes as they fell into his palm.
"This snow only appears in winter, and it requires freezing weather. Therefore, the bitter cold is its life."
Meng Hao said softly, "Snow can only exist in winter. It will disappear near fire, and there can be no snow in summer."
"The snowflake in my palm has melted because this is not its world."
Meng Hao waved his hand, and the drops of water scattered, falling to the ground.
Zheng Rong was stunned, his expression slightly bewildered.
When the carriage entered the city gate, Meng Hao said calmly,
"Thank you, Brother Zheng, for your help. I, Meng, bid you farewell."
Meng Hao cupped his hands, bowed in thanks, then got out of the carriage and walked on the snow-covered road.
Zheng Rong watched Meng Hao's retreating figure, still muttering a few words, "Is that how the life of snow is?" Then he cupped his hands and bowed deeply towards Meng Hao.
In the cold wind, his body was gradually covered by snowflakes.
He seemed to have realized something.
After he got into the carriage, the snowflakes on his body melted away.
He would never forget the story of this day.
Many years later, when he had become a great Confucian scholar of the Zhao Kingdom, he still remembered the scene of wind and snow today, remembering a scholar named Meng Hao.