Starting with the divine power of the Great Vajra, he traversed the heavens.

Chapter 172 The Round-Headed Old Man (Seeking Monthly Tickets!)
"Stop fighting in the Buddhist realm, and transform hostility into enlightenment."

After Ding'an finished reading, he scratched his head and looked at Hongxiu: "It's written quite politely, but why do I feel uncomfortable after reading it?"

The little beggar looked at the invitation and clicked his tongue, saying, "Of course it's uncomfortable. They're going to imprison us!"

Ding An retorted angrily, "You bunch of bald monks are all no good. The former Blood Saber Ancestor was openly wicked, and you're all wicked in secret!"

Iron Shoulders frowned and snorted coldly, "Master Ding'an, please don't joke."

Ren Shaoyang scoffed and said casually, "Ding Anping is usually very straightforward. He likes what he likes and dislikes what he dislikes. If he thinks you're bad, then you must be bad."

With an iron-shouldered face, he said in a sarcastic tone, "Three benefactors, I have come here to deliver invitations and have no intention of having any conflict with you."

Ren Shaoyang glanced at him, his expression as indifferent as ever: "I've long heard that before becoming a monk, Tie Jian of Shaolin was a renowned constable, with an extremely fiery temper and a strong hatred of evil. Although Jin Jiuling is Master Kugua's junior brother, his constable skills must have been taught to him by you, Great Monk, right?"

"You and Jin Jiuling are in a master-disciple relationship, yet we can still remain patient. I admire your composure."

Iron Shoulders, which had previously been indifferent, now raised its eyebrows and roared angrily, "Demon, you've gone too far!"

An old monk with yellow eyebrows hurriedly stopped him from behind: "Brother Iron Shoulder, don't fall for their trick!"

"To hell with that trick!"

Iron Shoulder was always irritable. Once he got angry, no one but Zen Master Dabei could control him. With a swipe of his hands, he knocked the old monk to the ground, rolled up his sleeves, and rushed towards Ren Shaoyang.

Seeing that things were going badly, Lu Xiaofeng was about to intervene.

Suddenly, Ren Shaoyang flicked his left finger, and a flash of blue light appeared. Iron Shoulder and Left Leg suddenly felt numb in the sea of ​​blood.

He was startled, but before he could utter a sound, Ren Shaoyang's index finger flicked like lightning, making a continuous "whoosh" sound, and his acupoints Fu Ai, Xiong Xiang, and Zhou Rong throbbed almost simultaneously.

"Hold"

In that instant, Tie Jian's face turned pale, he couldn't utter a sound, his legs twisted together, and he fell to the ground with a thud, his body convulsing and foaming at the mouth.

The monks were shocked and went forward to see what was wrong. They found that Tie Jian's eyes were closed, his breath was weak, and he was unconscious. They immediately panicked.

The old monk Huangmei got up, rolled his eyes, and then turned to Ren Shaoyang, saying, "Benefactor Ren, as the saying goes, when two countries are at war, envoys are not to be killed. Your actions, if they get out, will probably damage the reputation of the 'Three Fiends' and show a lack of composure."

Ren Shaoyang laughed and said, "I am a barbarian." He flicked his left hand with his five fingers, and a "hissing" sound could be heard from his iron shoulder.

Everyone looked over and saw a thin, blue thread flash and suddenly disappear into Ren Shaoyang's left hand.

A plume of bloody smoke rose from Tie Jian's body, followed by a stench of blood.

"you!"

The old monk with yellow eyebrows took two steps back, both surprised and furious.

Ren Shaoyang said calmly, "This is my reply. I will deliver it to Zen Master Dabei. On the Double Ninth Festival, let's fight to the death."

The yellow-browed monk and the monks behind him glared angrily, but they dared not jump up or down, nor dared to curse, and they certainly did not dare to move forward a single step.

He had no choice but to shoulder his heavy burden and hurriedly leave the inn, heading towards Mount Song.

Lu Xiaofeng and Hua Manlou looked at each other in bewilderment.

After a while, Hua Manlou sighed, "This Iron Shoulder is actually quite well-known, Brother Ren, why did you have to be so ruthless?"

Hongxiu said with delight, "Young Master Hua, the Great Monk has fainted and collapsed, but Shaoyang is still leaving room for maneuver."

"Sister Hongxiu, the blood has splattered all over the ceiling!" Lu Xiaofeng said, pointing at the roof.

The little beggar laughed and said, "That's because the senior monk was too hot-tempered. Once they return to Shaolin, they'll be treated by a master of internal energy, and after resting for a while, they might be fine."

Lu Xiaofeng asked in surprise, "Perhaps it will get better?"

“Yes.” The little beggar paused for a moment, “At most, he might have a slight hemiplegia.”

Lu Xiaofeng gasped: "Will Iron Shoulders become crooked and his eyes droopy, making it hard for him to even walk steadily?"

The little beggar glanced at him: "We'll have to see if we can get back to Shaolin in time."

Lu Xiaofeng murmured, "I hope their carriage is fast enough."
-
After the start of autumn, August has passed, and the already turbulent world of martial arts seems to be stirred up by another strong wind.

The surface is churning with waves, while beneath it, undercurrents surge.

In particular, Qingyuan County, located at the foot of Mount Song, has never been so bustling.

This is because the Great Compassionate Zen Master of Shaolin Temple, along with the righteous sects of the Central Plains, challenged the "Three Fiends of the Northern Frontier," whose evil flames are now rampant, to a duel on the Double Ninth Festival at Shaoshi Mountain.

The news of this battle spread like wildfire throughout the world, drawing global attention!
Since the news spread, throughout August, wave after wave of martial arts practitioners flocked to the area, crowding the inns in the villages and towns at the foot of Shaoshi Mountain like cockroaches. Judging by appearances, there are now more than 10,000 martial arts practitioners at the foot of Shaoshi Mountain.

There are still ten days until the Double Ninth Festival. This number is far from the limit.

Who among those who practice martial arts would want to miss this once-in-a-lifetime battle at the pinnacle of martial arts?

The "Kunlun Sword Debate" a century ago and the even earlier "Battle of Yandang Mountain" have been talked about for many years, but due to the high mountains and long distances, only a few people have witnessed them.

The fact that the decisive battle is now being held at Shaolin Temple gives even those with mediocre martial arts skills a chance to witness the pinnacle of skill. Such an opportunity, such a decisive battle, such a grand spectacle in the martial arts world—it has never happened before, and it is unlikely to happen again in the future.

It was dusk, and the three of them were walking on the streets of a small town several hundred miles away from Shaoshi Mountain.

With the Double Ninth Festival approaching, the temple was bustling with worshippers, and the town was more crowded than usual.

On this auspicious Double Ninth Festival, a time of great opportunity, one still sees many wandering swordsmen carrying knives and swords, coming and going in an endless stream.

At this moment, donkey carts, mule carts, and ox carts weave through the streets, and the cries of vendors from shops on both sides of the street fill the air; everything is so lively.

The young beggar was only seventeen or eighteen years old, yet he had already traversed three different worlds and earned the nicknames "Blood-Clad Man" and "Sister Red Sleeves."

To put it bluntly, she's still just a little girl.

Little girls are easily attracted to all sorts of novel things.

Just like a kitten will always be lured by cat treats and cat toys.

Hongxiu tugged at Ding'an and Ren Shaoyang's sleeves, looking left and right, her eyes almost unable to take it all in.

Suddenly, the little beggar's excited expression faltered, and he sighed, "Why do you always disturb me when I'm having the most fun?"

Ren Shaoyang turned her head around: "Play by yourself." As he spoke, he flicked his fingers with his other hand.

"bass"!
A small knife with a sweet, cloying fragrance suddenly pierced through the air and broke in two. Similarly, a pale-faced scholar who had just stepped aside suffered a gash in his chest, let out a miserable scream, and collapsed to the ground.

"Ah! Murder!"

The people on the street screamed in fright, and chaos ensued.

Several people hiding in the shadows in the crowd gasped: "The Butcher is practically no different from the legendary 'Sword Immortal'! He can kill people without them even moving a finger?"

These people were clearly stunned. In the blink of an eye, they all fled into a small alley. However, they were in such a hurry that they did not notice the several taut, thin wires with a faint blue light at the entrance of the alley.

At this moment, the fine threads are stained crimson.
Ren Shaoyang and his two companions didn't care about the fate of these scumbags. Seeing that it was getting dark, they went into a teahouse, ordered a pot of pre-Qingming Longjing tea and a few kinds of northern snacks. Although they were not as refined as those from Jiangnan, they were filling and satisfied, which suited the little beggar's taste.

Ding'an chuckled and said, "What doesn't suit her taste? She's so hungry she could eat a donkey!"

Upon hearing this, Ren Shaoyang burst into laughter, quickly covering his mouth with his hand, but his eyes were already full of smiles.

The little beggar flew into a rage, grabbed a snack with a stern face and was about to throw it, but then put it down with a pained look. He then threw a throwing knife at Ding An's head.

Ding'an didn't stop him. With a bang, the hilt of the knife struck his forehead, bounced high into the air, and fell downstairs.

The little beggar pointed at him and yelled, "You dead man, you're slandering me!" Then he turned to Ren Shaoyang and said, "He's slandering me!"

Ren Shaoyang watched them clown around and burst into laughter.

Just then, a helpless, gentle, and polite voice came from downstairs: "Excuse me, who threw the knife?"

The moment the words "Excuse me" were uttered, there were still quite a few people drinking tea on the second floor, and the sound was still quite far away.

By the time the words "flying knife" were spoken, the place was deserted, and only the desolate sound of the wind remained.

Sometime later, a person appeared among them.

A round-faced, half-bald old man with a kind and gentle demeanor.

It's strange; he looks so ordinary, yet he's so extraordinary.

What's unusual is that he really is quite ordinary-looking.

What's remarkable is that he has a wooden throwing knife stuck in his shoulder.

But he didn't bleed a drop, nor did he even blink.

Are you saying it's weird?
"Oh dear!" the little beggar suddenly exclaimed, running over with a thud. "Grandpa, are you alright? Let me help you take it off."

"Don't"

"Sizzle!" Blood spurted out.

Little beggar: (#￣～￣#)
Old man: o(￣ヘ￣o#)
"Hey! Why didn't you say so earlier?" The little beggar blinked, looking at his wrist being pinched by the old man.

The old man said with a pained expression, "I wanted to say 'Don't pull it out.'"

"Oh~!" The little beggar suddenly realized, and with a flick of his hand, he was about to poke the old man's shoulder, "I'll put it back in!"

"Snapped!"

The old man grabbed the little beggar's wrist again, glanced cautiously at the dark throwing knife in her hand, and gave a dry laugh:
"Sister Hongxiu, you want to kill me as soon as we meet? Isn't that going too far?"
-
P.S.: I'll be finishing Lu Xiaofeng's story in the next couple of days. I wasn't feeling well these past few days, but I've finally recovered.

The world that follows.

Do you godfathers want to see the blood-stained donkey cart galloping through the book of literature, or wandering through the book of pornography?
I'm shamelessly asking for your monthly votes!

(End of this chapter)