Inside Shaolin Temple.
Wang Anfeng carefully wrapped the Whip Lock around his right forearm, maintaining it in the easiest position to strike, and stored the golden sore medicine, Detoxification Pills, and Qi-absorbing Pills, which could be used to stimulate the recovery of Inner Strength in crucial moments, classified and placed on the right side of his waistband.
Meanwhile, the Silver Needles gifted by Li Kangsheng and his wife were placed on the left side.
He had adjusted the Inner Strength within his body to the most complete state.
Although today was not the day of departure, he had still prepared in advance to confirm the best condition.
In the strictest sense,
the young man's first step into Jianghu was akin to stepping into a muddy puddle, splashing mud all over himself.
Especially since the mud was particularly stinky, leaving a vivid memory in the young man's mind and making him utterly vigilant about the road of Jianghu.
Jianghu was nothing but a storm of bloodshed behind a façade of picturesque scenery.
Fufeng Academy·Master Hall.
The azure-robed elder, holding a scroll, frowned slightly and said,
"Wasn't it supposed to be just sending books under the guise of allowing Wang Anfeng to learn the Qingfeng Edge?"
"Why are there two extra spots now, you… what did you say to the girls from the Sword Sect?"
The Master sat to one side, holding a cup of clear tea, eyes on nose, nose on heart.
He lifted his hand to sip the clear tea and slowly said,
"You know that in the past, we only sent Masters there."
"This time, even if there were some extra copies of ancient texts, there was no need to add a Guardian of the Academy's books. Therefore, I simply said, when the Great Elder of Qingfeng Edge celebrated his ninety's birthday, three disciples came to wish him long life.
In the spirit of reciprocation, we should also send three disciples to present our regards and say some pleasant words to the old man there."
His voice paused briefly as the Master sneakily glanced at Elder Ren, adding cautiously,
"Hmm, it seems it was your idea, and they agreed rather quickly."
"And they sent along a Guardian of the books."
Elder Ren's face darkened upon hearing this.
The selection of disciples in Fufeng Academy was swiftly underway, and it was declared complete within just one day.
The legitimate heirs of the various Masters, with settled temperaments, showed little interest in such matters that contributed little to the refinement of Martial Arts, such as Gu Jianzhang. In contrast, the youths who were new to the Academy lacked sufficient cultivation to prevail, save for one exception, the rising star of the Xue Family, Young Master Xue Shuang.
With his dashing swordsmanship, he defeated several opponents and without a doubt secured first place.
Next, Baili Feng from the Military Family barely managed to win with the brutal Mo Blade that dominated with seventeen stances.
It wasn't that there were no stronger competitors, but once he launched his moves, the area was filled with blade light, almost like a bully forcibly breaking through a "multilayered siege."
The last one was a young lady from the Legalist Family, dressed in red, with expressive and lively features. She wielded the Moon Blade, often used by foreign tribes. It seemed she was unhappy that she couldn't knock Baili Feng off the platform, her eyes filled with visible bitterness when looking at him, as if she wanted to viciously bite off a piece of flesh.
However, when she turned to look at Xue Qinshuang, who was elegant and graceful, her face overflowed with tenderness, almost to the point of dripping water, sending chills down the spine of both the Xue girl and Baili Feng.
Thus, the students set for departure were decided.
Representing the Academy would be a Mo Family elder in his sixties, skilled in mechanics and quite renowned.
After all, although Qingfeng Edge was a hidden Sect, the eldest Great Elder was only seventy years old in public records.
If the Master from Fufeng Academy personally went to pay birthday respects, that Great Elder would not be able to sit still.
That would be too inconsistent with the rules of Jianghu.
This elder, who was nearly a hundred years old, was dashing through Jianghu in fine clothes and in high spirits when the Great Elder wasn't even born yet.
And at the time she happened upon her fate and was taken in by Qingfeng Edge, the Master had already abandoned the sword and rarely set foot in Jianghu.
It must have been about sixty years ago.
The two were at least thirty years apart in age, the difference spanning one or two generations.
Of course, the concern about violating the rules of Jianghu is also about another matter, if you were born later than someone and yet live shorter than them.
In Jianghu, it is not uncommon for accomplished elders with profound martial power to attend the birthday feasts of the younger generation, only to send them off a few years later while still robust themselves, even going so far as to pay a visit to their graves; gradually, this became a rule. If one thinks about it carefully, it really makes no sense at all.
Young people often dismiss it with a laugh, but the old-timers of Jianghu care deeply about it and stubbornly believe in it.
The older one gets, the more taboo it becomes.
Perhaps, in the face of the inevitable death, most people ultimately cannot truly disregard it with nonchalance. Even if their Martial Arts mindset can suppress the fear, in the minutiae, there still lingers an attachment to the world.
As the largest academy in Fufeng County, it naturally has guest rooms prepared for visitors.
As night fell, a flickering light emerged in a bedroom.
The woman in white sat cross-legged on the bed, her appearance plain except for her long hair secured with a jade hairpin. Her features were strikingly beautiful, but she was three parts less lively, looking colder instead. A longsword lay across her knees, its sheath still on, yet a piercing chill filled the room, causing the small flame to tremble slightly.
As a disciple of a reclusive Sect walking the world of Jianghu, her cultivation had reached the Fifth Rank.
Her swordsmanship had fully captured the essence of the ink-splashing style. At her stage of Martial Arts, mere diligent practice was hardly enough to progress further, but she had still not missed a single day of meditation. If it had been any other day, the Taiyin Technique would only need to circulate for a moment to banish all the random thoughts in her heart.
But today, after sitting in meditation and moving through the Zhou Tian cycle twelve times, her mind was still filled with persistent wandering thoughts that she could not dispel.
She had no choice but to open her eyes and sigh softly.
Unable to calm her mind or fall asleep, she decided to get out of bed, slung her sword over her back, sat at the table, and poured herself a cup of cool tea.
The amber tea reflected the flickering candlelight. The hour was late by now, and the younger disciples brought along must have fallen asleep. Her thoughts were not as clear as during the day, and she involuntarily started to recall the Master she met today.
They had a conversation that lasted only the time it took to drink a cup of tea.
He was just as enigmatic as the rumors suggested.
Her fair fingers explored the tea cup, and her eyes flickered uncertainly as she murmured:
"The founding ancestor grew tired of the strife in Jianghu and chose to seclude himself."
"But what follows is an era of great contention…"
"If we continue to hide and avoid the world, the Sect faces the catastrophe of annihilation and death."
Her voice hesitated, her eyes almost closed, as if she could see the elderly Master with white hair and robes again, standing there like a part of Heaven and Earth, looking at her with a warm smile and saying:
"This time, old man accepts your favor."
"The three students selected today, along with the guardian of the archives... after returning to Qingfeng Edge, take them to that place once."
"The choice that follows will be left to your Palm Sword."
Now, as she remembered the old man's appearance, her heart still fluttered uncontrollably. Despite her Fifth Rank cultivation, she struggled to suppress it.
The Master's eyes were kind, and his smile was ever-present, making him seem amiable. But as she looked at the old man, he seemed to her like a sword, one that had been sheathed in dust for who knew how many years, a sword that to others appeared covered in rust but for some reason had been drawn once again, its red rust wiped away.
Strong liquor splashed on the Sword Edge, still sharp, still icy, still capable of decapitating heads rolling on the ground below.