I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

In late autumn, the capital city was unusually hot and dry.

Under the blazing sun, it seemed as if even the heavens themselves were anxious and uneasy about the impending catastrophe.

Rumors spread like wildfire through the streets and alleys, and restaurants and teahouses were buzzing with discussion about a momentous event—the current emperor was about to abdicate in the imperial city of "Longfeng," handing over the vast empire to the Japanese overlord, Jue Wushen.

The second floor of the "Yuelai Inn" was already bustling with noise, the clamor reaching the sky.

"Hey, did you hear? The emperor is abdicating today!"

The man with a full beard deliberately lowered his voice and leaned mysteriously toward his deskmate.

"Nonsense! Such a momentous event, who in the capital doesn't know?" The young man at the next table, who looked like a scholar, lightly waved his folding fan, his brows furrowed with disdain.

"I've heard that the one who succeeded him, Jue Wushen, is a Japanese pirate! Our glorious and beautiful land is about to fall into the hands of a foreign race; it is truly a disgrace to China!"

"Shh! You don't want to live anymore?!" The bearded man was terrified upon hearing this, hurriedly covering the scholar's mouth with his hand, his eyes darting around in fear.

"These days, the streets are full of demons from the Wushen Jue Palace. If those ruthless killers hear about this, your entire family will not only lose their heads, but they'll also be displayed on the city gate tower!"

"snort!"

Although the scholar was unwilling, he knew the consequences, so he could only angrily close his folding fan, turn his head away, and remain silent.

"Well, that may be a rough way of putting it, but it's true," another diner chimed in, swirling his glass with a blank expression.

"Besides, what difference does it make who sits on the throne? For us common folk, as long as we have enough to eat, what difference does it make who's emperor, even if it's some Japanese devil?"

"That's true... We're just ordinary people, why should we worry about this?"

Everyone agreed, and the conversation quickly shifted from national affairs to everyday family matters.

In this world that has never been stable, numbness may be the only way for ordinary people to survive.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, no one knew that a man dressed in black, wearing a straw hat, was sitting alone at the most inconspicuous table in the corner of the restaurant.

There was only a jar of strong liquor in front of him, and his wide straw hat was pulled down very low, completely covering his face, revealing only a section of his sharply defined chin.

The surrounding noise seemed to be shut out by an invisible barrier, and he drank quietly alone, exuding a sense of loneliness and coldness that kept strangers at bay.

Until the scholar uttered the words "absolutely no god," the black-clad man's hand holding the wine cup trembled slightly due to the sudden exertion of force.

"Snap!"

With a crisp sound, the hard porcelain cup instantly turned into dust, the wine mixed with the pale powder trickling down between the fingers and dripping onto the ground.

Beneath the brim of the straw hat, which had been pulled low, a pair of blood-red eyes suddenly snapped open, bursting forth with a savage killing intent that seemed to tangibly erupt, their gaze filled with endless violence and deep hatred!

The next instant, the man in black suddenly stood up and swept towards the stairwell like a chilling gust of wind.

"Hey! Sir, you haven't paid yet!"

The sharp-eyed waiter immediately shouted loudly upon seeing this.

But in the blink of an eye, the dark figure vanished into thin air, as if it had never existed.

"Pah! What bad luck!" The waiter spat on the ground, his eyes filled with contempt and disgust.

"It's those damned gangsters again, always eating and drinking for free. Why don't they all just die!"

To the east of the imperial city, a majestic solitary peak called "Longfeng" rises from the ground like a sharp sword, piercing the clouds. Even ordinary people in the city can clearly admire its magnificent appearance.

This place was originally a sacred site where emperors of all dynasties offered sacrifices to heaven and prayed for blessings. The solitary and towering mountain rises straight into the clouds, symbolizing the supreme majesty of the emperor, who was equal to heaven.

Today, however, this sacred mountain is completely shrouded in a thick stench of blood, resembling a hellish inferno.

To demonstrate his divine might and dominance, the god of no power ordered that within seven days a "Road to Heaven" made of pure gold, leading straight to the clouds, must be built from the foot of the mountain to the summit.

All the artisans in the city were forcibly conscripted here and worked day and night under the whip of Guichaluo. Anyone who slacked off or collapsed from exhaustion was mercilessly killed on the spot, with no chance of survival!

In just seven days, countless artisans were buried beneath the glittering imperial road.

Their remains were mercilessly buried on the spot, turning into countless wronged souls who will never rest in peace beneath these golden steps, each gold brick seemingly exuding a soaring resentment.

Looking out from the foot of the mountain, one can see a wide red carpet winding its way up the steep mountainside, like a blood-soaked dragon coiled among the mountains, leading straight to the cloud-shrouded altar at the summit.

The striking crimson color, under the blazing sun, seemed to burn completely, making it impossible to distinguish whether it was the natural color of the fabric or the result of being soaked in the blood of countless artisans.

There was a guard every three steps and a sentry every five steps along both sides of the imperial road.

Thousands of demon warriors dressed in tight black clothes and wearing ghost masks stood like statues on both sides of the mountain road, holding sharp blades.

The chilling killing intent emanating from everyone coalesced into a suffocating and terrifying pressure, shrouding the entire imperial city in a somber atmosphere.

A fierce wind howled past, stirring up clouds of dust and causing the large black flag embroidered with a hideous ghost face, planted atop Dragon Peak, to flutter wildly.

It was as if it were declaring to the entire martial arts world of the Central Plains: those who submit to me will prosper, those who oppose me will perish!

The view from the top of Longfeng Peak is extremely expansive, as if you could reach out and pluck the stars and the moon.

A magnificent golden dragon throne faces the bustling world below, and beside the throne stands an "emperor" dressed in a dragon robe and wearing a crown.

This man had a handsome face and a solemn expression. He held the Imperial Seal, a symbol of supreme imperial power, in both hands and quietly awaited the arrival of that moment.

If you look closely, you will find that this "emperor" does not have much of the majesty of a Son of Heaven in his eyes, but rather a cold and calculating air about him.

Around the high platform, ten experts, clad in heavy armor and exuding a calm aura, stood like iron towers.

These are the Emperor's "Ten Great Bodyguards," each possessing the terrifying strength to take on a hundred men.

No one understood why the emperor would hand over his vast empire to the Japanese, but the imperial guards' duty was to obey.

They had no concept of family, country, or the world; they were loyal to the master on the dragon throne for their entire lives, until their death!

Halfway up the winding imperial road, a burly figure draped in a golden dragon cloak was stepping onto this path to heaven paved with blood.

Although he did not reach the summit, his arrogant and domineering aura weighed heavily on everyone's hearts like dark clouds.

"Traitor! Get out of China!"

Such perverse actions ultimately enraged the patriotic individuals among the crowd who still possessed a sense of patriotism.

Rotten vegetable leaves and rotten eggs rained down on the imperial guards who were trying to maintain order, accompanied by a cacophony of angry shouts.

"A bunch of troublemakers!"

Why would the guards care who sits on the dragon throne?

For them, orders from above are law, and anyone who dares to break the rules is guilty of a capital offense!

With a clang of blades being drawn, the guards mercilessly slashed at the unarmed protesting civilians.

In an instant, blood splattered everywhere, and screams drowned out angry curses. These patriots, full of patriotic fervor, had not yet died under the swords of the Japanese, but instead became the victims of their own court's lackeys.

Amidst this chaos of bloodshed and wailing, a muffled, thunderous sound of wheels rolling abruptly drowned out all the noise.

"Rumble..."

Dozens of jet-black iron prison carts slowly drove into the pool of blood!

These prison wagons were packed tightly together, each one made of fine iron and incredibly sturdy.

All the people imprisoned inside the vehicle were wearing heavy black hoods. Although their faces could not be seen, judging from the exposed corners of their clothing, they were all dressed in martial arts attire from the Central Plains.

"stop!"

With a cold shout, Jue Tian immediately stopped the prison cart procession on the side of the imperial road.

Squads of ferocious-looking demons swarmed forward, roughly opened the prison carts, and dragged the prisoners out like livestock.

As one by one, the heavy black covers were roughly ripped off, and faces that once dominated the martial arts world were suddenly exposed to the scorching sun.

A wave of extreme fear and turmoil erupted from the crowd, and despair spread instantly.

"Heavens! It's the martial arts legend, Nameless? Even he..."

"And there's also Young Hero Jian Chen! The Patriarch of the Kuaiyi Sect is among them!"

"It's over... The pillars of the Central Plains martial arts world are all here. This time, China is truly doomed..."

Seeing these once high-ranking, peerless masters who protected the region now reduced to prisoners, their faces haggard, the onlookers and officials felt as if they had fallen into an ice cave, and the last glimmer of hope in their hearts was completely shattered.

Hearing the commotion behind him, Jue Wushen, who was halfway up the mountain, slowly turned around.

A pair of tiger-like eyes looked down at the disheveled Wuming and his companions below, their gazes filled with a cruel, mocking glint, like a cat toying with mice.

"Nameless, you have finally fallen into my hands."

Jue Wushen's voice wasn't loud, but amplified by his powerful inner strength, it resonated clearly in everyone's ears like rolling thunder: "Today, as I ascend the throne, I lack a few sufficiently weighty offerings to consecrate my banner. Your ability to witness my reign with your crippled body is a blessing you have earned in this life."

Before he could finish speaking, his face suddenly turned cold, his gaze sweeping over the prisoners like a blade, and he roared:

"Kneel down!!"

This roar contained the domineering and unparalleled intent of the "killing fist," and it exploded like a thunderclap from a clear sky, making everyone present feel pain in their eardrums and their hearts tremble violently.

Faced with this overwhelming ferocity, the martial arts practitioners of the Central Plains, though imprisoned, did not kneel down!

The group of people were all of unyielding spirit, their heads held high and their eyes wide with anger as they stared intently at Jue Wushen, silently defending the last vestige of dignity in the Central Plains martial arts world.

"Hmph! A bunch of spineless cowards who won't listen to reason!" Upon seeing this, Jue Wushen's expression turned icy, his tiger-like eyes flashing with a chilling light, and he spoke in a sinister tone.

"Since they don't want to kneel, then break their legs! Men, lend a hand to these heroes!"

"yes!"

Upon hearing the order, a group of demonic warriors swarmed forward with sinister smiles, mercilessly smashing their iron rods against the knees of the martial arts practitioners.

Just as the long iron staff was about to crash down with a whistling sound, at the critical moment, a sudden change occurred!

"boom--"

The heroes of the Central Plains, who had seemed listless and dispirited, suddenly unleashed a torrent of powerful true energy within their bodies!

A series of sharp, metallic clanging sounds echoed through the sky as the steel shackles binding everyone present shattered into countless fragments, which shot out in all directions.

The demons who were grinning and swinging their clubs were caught off guard and were instantly blown away by the sudden, terrifying shockwave.

Before he could even scream, his bones were broken and he fell heavily to the ground like a tattered sack, his fate unknown!

Amidst the flying fragments of refined iron, a tall and proud figure stepped forward slowly, like a sword being drawn from its sheath.

Nameless's inner energy surged, and his once-dejected eyes shone brightly as he stared directly at Jue Wushen, whose expression had drastically changed halfway up the mountain. His calm and powerful voice resounded throughout Dragon Peak:

"Godless, your death is nigh! This land of China is not for a madman like you from the East to run rampant!"