I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

Long'er frowned slightly.

Four weapons pressed down at once, the wind of blades and the shadows of clubs intertwined. The bridgehead was already narrow, and with this pressure, there was almost no space left to even step and catch one's breath.

There was no panic in his eyes, but his mind was racing.

With his keen insight, he could easily see through the flaws of the bandits, but seeing through them was one thing, and actually dismantling them on the spot was another.

He was still young, his body was not fully developed, and he lacked strength.

If it's just one or two, you can use your agility to move around and deal with them slowly;

Now that all four of them are rushing in at once, if it drags on for even a little while, they will inevitably be forced into a head-on confrontation.

The river roared beneath the bridge, while a menacing aura emanated from it.

Long'er shifted her feet, her body moving like water, and slid through the gap between the two flashing blades. Just as her clothes were brushed past, an iron rod swept across with a fierce wind.

"Get down on your knees!"

The man with the missing tooth struck the bridge with his stick, but the bridge plank thudded with a dull thud, sending wood chips flying everywhere.

Scarface recovered as well, clutching his numb wrist, his eyes red.

"You little bastard, weren't you being stubborn just now?"

"Go ahead and hide! You fucking hide again!"

The tall, thin man lunged forward while laughing strangely.

"This kid's as slippery as an eel. Let's cut off his legs first, then see how he tries to run around!"

The dark-faced man remained silent, but his eyes were the most sinister. He kept his short fork hidden to his side and back, not in a hurry to take credit, but waiting for Long'er to reveal an opening so he could deliver the fatal blow.

The old man selling hot water by the bridge was so frightened that he huddled up in a ball, his lips trembling. He wanted to shout, but he was afraid of getting into trouble himself, so he could only grip the broken wooden spoon tightly, his throat dry.

Long'er dodged three attacks in succession, and the sword-shaped birthmark between her eyebrows faintly burned.

In his eyes, the four men were not only slow but also chaotic, as chaotic as four wild dogs fighting for food, each fierce in its own way but without any method.

Unfortunately, because of the chaos, the area at the bridgehead was turned into a murky mess, and if you weren't careful, you would be entangled by knives, sticks, and forks all at once.

Scarface, unable to break through the defenses, grew increasingly agitated and began slashing with his knife.

"You're just a little brat who hasn't even grown all his feathers yet! I refuse to believe I can't take you down!"

Long'er leaned back abruptly, the blade almost grazing her nose.

He planted one foot on the bridge railing, used the momentum to flip over, and was about to pass over the heads of the four men when the dark-faced man, who had been waiting for this moment, darted up from below like a short-forked venomous snake, aiming straight for their abdomens.

This fork was both subtle and accurate.

Long'er was in mid-air when her eyes suddenly narrowed. Just as she was about to forcefully twist her body, she suddenly heard a sharp whistling sound from afar, tearing through the wind.

"call--!"

This leg strike was unlike any ordinary gale; the force was extremely concentrated, as if it had been twisted into a single line.

When it came cutting through the wind, it was like an invisible blade slicing through the air, or a long whip lashing out, so fast that even its afterimage could not be seen, only a sharp, piercing sound cutting into everyone's ears.

Following closely behind—

"Clang!"

"Clang!"

"Clang!"

"Clang!"

The four metallic clangs almost overlapped, causing a sudden jolt at the bridgehead, and even the roar of the river below seemed to be suppressed by half a beat.

Scarface was the first to scream in agony, his entire arm going numb from the shock. The ghost-head knife in his hand snapped in half, the broken blade spinning and flying out before crashing into the mud next to the stone tablet with a thud.

The waist knife in the tall, thin man's hand, the iron rod of the man with the missing tooth, and the short fork of the dark-faced man all shattered at the same moment, their broken edges jagged, as if they had been forcibly cleaved by something domineering and unparalleled.

All four of them were dumbfounded.

The men looked down at the half-broken piece of scrap metal in their hands, their faces gradually paling, as if they had seen a ghost.

Scarface still had that fierce look on his face, but he had already taken two steps back, his lips trembling, and it took him a long time to squeeze out a single word.

"who……"

A voice fell from the stone tablet at the bridgehead, not loud, but cold as ice shards crushing into bones.

"roll."

Everyone looked up at the same time.

Atop the broken stone tablet, a young man in black had appeared at some unknown time.

He stood very steadily, the wind blowing his clothes backward, but he remained motionless as if nailed to a monument.

He carried a long strip of black cloth on his back; it was impossible to tell whether it was a sword or a knife, but it was clear that it was quite heavy.

He stood in the wind, his brows and eyes cold and hard, like a weapon yet to be drawn.

That amazing kick just now was delivered by him.

When the four bandits met his gaze, they felt a chill run down their spines and dared not utter a single polite word.

Scarface was the first to buckle at the knees and fall to his knees with a thud.

"Hero, spare my life! Hero, spare my life!"

"We were blind as bastards, we didn't know you were protecting this young master!"

The tall, thin man also knelt down, his head banging loudly as he kowtowed.

"We just make a living on this bridge, we won't do it again, we won't do it again!"

The dark-faced man turned pale, his throat bobbed a few times, but he swallowed his pride and lowered his head.

The young man in black didn't say another word, but simply lowered his gaze slightly.

The four of them couldn't hold on any longer and scrambled to the other side of the bridge, their feet tumbling and nearly tripping into the river. In the blink of an eye, they disappeared from sight.

The bridgehead fell silent.

Only the strong wind crossed the bridge, making the broken blade tremble slightly.

Long'er landed back on the ground, first glancing at the broken weapon, then looking up at the young man on the stone tablet. The coldness in his eyes suddenly dissipated, revealing a brilliance that a young man could not hide.

"What amazing legwork!"

This praise is so sincere, it doesn't hide anything at all.

"I didn't even see how you kicked out, and all of their weapons were broken."

"What kind of kung fu is that?"

The young man in black glanced down at him, seemingly surprised that he had been fighting desperately on the bridge just a moment ago, and was now able to focus all his attention on martial arts.

"The Formless Divine Wind Leg".

The four words were uttered concisely and efficiently, without any hesitation or ambiguity.

Upon hearing this, Long'er's eyes lit up even more.

"Formless...what a fine formless thing."

He took a few steps forward and circled the stone tablet, examining it closely, as if afraid of missing something.

"That kick just now, the leg force arrived first, before the person did, right?"

The young man in black did not answer. Instead, he swayed and leaped down from the stone tablet, landing as lightly as a black feather, barely stirring up any dust.

Only when Long'er got closer could she truly see his appearance.

He was only eighteen years old, with a straight back and a cold gaze, as if he had traveled to too many places and seen too much bloodshed.

This coldness wasn't feigned; it came from deep within my bones.

But this very person, despite his kick, failed to kill several bandits.

The young man in black was also looking at him.

More accurately, it was the sword-shaped birthmark between his eyebrows that was being examined.

A faint red tinge still lingered on the birthmark between Long'er's eyebrows, as if something had just awakened for a moment beneath her skin.

The young man in black narrowed his eyes slightly, remained silent for a moment, and then said:

"Is this mark something you were born with?"

Long'er nodded, "I was born with it."

The young man in black glanced at him a couple more times, seemingly wanting to say something more, but ultimately held back, uttering only a single, meaningful sentence:

"Born with a sword-wielding physique."

Long'er, however, seemed oblivious to the weight of those words, focusing only on his legs.

"Was that movement you just made by using the wind or by using momentum?"

"The force is interrupted before the leg arrives; I have never seen this kind of force generation method before."

The young man in black looked at him, his lips twitching slightly, not like a smile, but rather as if he had been driven to a standstill by the barrage of questions.

"You just came out of the clutches of a knife, and the first thing you asked wasn't who I was, but how I made my move?"

Long'er said matter-of-factly:

"We'll find out what people are called sooner or later."

"I want to know how to practice martial arts right now."

Upon hearing this, the young man in black actually smiled slightly.

His smile was faint and vanished in an instant, but it softened the sharpness of his usually cold and unapproachable face.

"You look like someone who practices martial arts."

"Nonsense." Long'er raised his chin, his eyes brimming with youthful energy.

"That's who I am."

The young man in black stared at him for a long time, then suddenly reached out his hand.

"gold."

Long'er was taken aback at first, then realized that they were calling out names, and immediately reached out her hand as well.

"Long'er".

When the two hands are clasped together, one palm is warm and the other has a steady, powerful grip.

Long'er initially thought this person's leg techniques were impressive, but when she actually grabbed him, she realized that the strength within the young man was terrifyingly heavy, like a deep well or a mountain. It was not noticeable when pressed down, but if it were to be unleashed, it would probably be far more powerful than just that one kick.

A thought struck him, and his excitement intensified.

"Is that a sword you're carrying?"

"Um."

"How can someone who wields a sword use their legs?"

Jin withdrew his hand, his voice flat.

"A few small fry are not worthy of my sword."

Long'er was taken aback, but then a hint of agreement appeared in her eyes.

"I like hearing that."

The old man selling hot water by the bridge finally came to his senses and walked up shakily, bowing repeatedly to the two men. Before he could finish calling them "benefactors," Jin had already reached out and pressed him down.

"Don't kneel."

The old man was stunned for a moment, and before he could come to his senses, Jin had already turned his gaze away.

Long'er stood aside and watched, gradually getting to know the situation. Although this person was ruthless, he was very careful with his actions. He only broke weapons when necessary and never spilled blood that shouldn't have been spilled.

There aren't many people like that.

After crossing the bridge, the two set off together.

At first, Long'er asked more questions and Jin answered fewer.

"Where did you learn that Formless Divine Wind Leg technique?"

"My master taught me."

"Who is your master?"

"A very capable person."

How amazing is it?

"More powerful than anyone you've ever seen."

Long'er was speechless for a moment, but she was still unwilling to admit defeat.

"You haven't seen how many people I've met, so how do you know they're all more capable than anyone I've ever met?"

Jin glanced at him.

"Because you're still young."

Long'er sneered, "Being small doesn't mean you're blind."

Jin remained silent.

But Long'er didn't feel embarrassed at all and kept asking.

He asked Jin Fang how he used the wind to kick, why he didn't release his energy, and why the sword on his back was wrapped in black cloth.

As he asked, even Jin himself found it strange—

Along the way, many people took the initiative to approach him. Some were afraid of him, some respected him, and some wanted to befriend him. But there were very few like Long'er, who focused solely on his martial arts skills without any ambiguity.

After walking several miles, there is a narrow stream ahead. The water is not fast-flowing, but there are several wet and slippery blue stones lying across it.

Jin stepped over it without getting his clothes wet at all.

Long'er's eyes lit up, and she followed suit, but before she could even land steadily, she slipped on the third bluestone and her whole body swayed.

Without even turning his head, Jin reached behind him, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him over.

After Long'er regained her footing, the first thing she did was not to thank him, but to look down at the stones and then up at where Jin had landed, as if she was pondering his steps.

This time, Jin really couldn't hold back anymore.

"You don't even forget to check your footwork when you fall into the river?"

Long'er pulled her hand back, patted her sleeve, and said confidently.

"You fall in but don't drown; it's not easy to understand that."

After hearing this, Jin's lips twitched again.

As they continued on the journey, the two gradually began to talk more.

Long'er talks fast, asking whatever comes to mind, sometimes one question after another, like the tip of a sword constantly thrusting forward;

Jin, on the other hand, is frugal in his daily life, but when it comes to important matters, his words are always firm and steady, like nails that stay firmly in place.

As evening approached, a tavern finally came into view beside the official road.

The wine flag fluttered in the wind, and several old tables were set up under the locust tree, their legs worn white, clearly indicating that many people from the martial arts world frequented the area.

Jin walked ahead, chose a table sheltered from the wind, and casually placed the long strip of black cloth wrapped on his back across the table.

The waiter had already spotted them and crouched down to greet them.

"Gentlemen, what would you like to eat?"

Jin said, "Two catties of cooked beef and a pot of strong liquor."

After saying that, he glanced at Long'er and added:

"Another bowl of hot soup, please."

Long'er was displeased upon hearing this.

"I don't want hot soup."

Jin raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. "You're so young, can you even drink alcohol?"

"Who says I can't?"

"You were like a child when you crossed the bridge just now."

"That's not the case anymore."

Jin looked at him without saying a word.

Long'er, feeling even more threatened by his gaze, decided to make her point clear.

"Bring me some wine too."

The waiter glanced around; one had a cold face, and the other was tense. Not daring to offend either, he could only laugh awkwardly and reply, "Okay!" before quickly running away.

The wine and meat were served quickly.

The beef was cut thickly, glistening with oil. As soon as the baijiu (a type of Chinese liquor) broke the mud seal, a spicy aroma of alcohol filled the table.

Jin poured himself a bowl and then poured half a bowl for Long'er.

Long'er complained, "Why do you get a full bowl, and I only get half a bowl?"

Jin said, "I'm afraid if you take one bite, you'll collapse onto the table."

Long'er snorted coldly, picked up the glass and drank.

As soon as the wine entered his mouth, his expression changed.

This wine is nothing like water. It's like a ball of fire when you first taste it, and as it goes down your throat, it feels like a red-hot iron wire drilling straight into your chest. It's so spicy that Long'er immediately turned her head and coughed, and even her ears turned red from the spiciness.

Jin held the wine bowl and looked at him, before slowly saying something after a long while.

"I've only poured you half a bowl."

Long'er coughed until her eyes were red, but she still glared at him.

"Just one more bite, and I'll get used to it."

Jin said, "You're quite stubborn."

Long'er wiped her mouth.

"A true江湖人 (jianghu ren, a person of the martial arts world) would never admit defeat after just one sip of wine."

This time, Jin didn't stop him. He tilted his head back and drank a bowl of wine first. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he finished the whole bowl without even frowning.

Long'er stared at him, her competitive spirit returning. She picked up the remaining half bowl and slowly poured it down her throat, gritting her teeth.

After drinking it, his whole face felt hot, but he didn't cough it up again.

Jin looked at him and said calmly:

"This looks more like it."

Although Long'er's stomach was churning from the spiciness, she felt inexplicably happy, as if she had crossed a threshold.

He picked up a piece of beef and stuffed it into his mouth. After a while, he took out the yellowed sheepskin map from his pocket and spread it on the table.

"I want to go here."

Jin glanced down.

"Matura Temple?"

"Um."

"Do you know what place that is?"

"have no idea."

"You're still going?"

Long'er looked up at him; her eyes were dark and steady.

"The less we know, the more we should go."

Jin didn't speak immediately, but simply extended his finger and gently pressed the edge of the parchment.

He had never heard of this place, but since Long'er carried the map with her, it must not be an ordinary place.

"Is it related to your background?"

Long'er was silent for a moment, then nodded.

Jin hummed in agreement and didn't ask any further questions.

On the contrary, Long'er was taken aback by his straightforwardness.

Aren't you going to ask?

"If you want to say it, you will."

"Why don't you ask anything?"

Jin held the wine bowl tightly, without even lifting his eyelids.

"If I ask, you're guaranteed to answer?"

Long'er was taken aback by his words, but after a while, she actually laughed.

"uncertain."

"That settles it."

The two sat facing each other for a while, the shadows of the locust trees swaying gently in the evening breeze. The aroma of wine, meat, and dust mingled together on the table, and suddenly it felt like they had truly entered the world of martial arts.

Long'er looked at the black cloth bundle that Jin had been keeping by his side, and finally couldn't help herself.

"And you? Where were you originally going?"

Jin gazed at the deepening twilight at the end of the road, his voice soft.

"Anywhere is fine."

"Nowhere you absolutely have to go?"

"Yes, I have."

"And now?"

"The road is blocked."

Long'er sensed something in his words and was about to ask again when Jin stopped himself and turned to look at him.

"Since you're going to Motuo Lanyu, I'll accompany you for a while."

"Just a short distance?"

"Let's wait and see."

Long'er stared at him for a while, then suddenly laughed, her laughter carrying a kind of straightforward and carefree joy.

"That works too. Anyway, with you on the road, I can see the Formless Divine Wind Leg a few more times."

Jin said calmly, "You're quite impolite."

Long'er handed the wine bowl forward.

"Don't mention it. You saved me, let me buy you a drink."

Jin glanced at the wine pot on the table.

"I ordered the drinks."

Long'er remained unfazed.

"I'll owe you that for now, and I'll treat you later."

Jin finally chuckled, picked up his wine bowl, and clinked it against his.

"Remember that."

"Remember that."

The bowl made no sound when it was touched, but it was very crisp.