The Smiling, Proud Wanderer: From the Moment He Picked Up Qu Feiyan

The riverbanks are already overburdened.

A dense, thronging crowd surged forward, almost crushing the muddy riverbank. Those who arrived later found no place to stand and could only gaze longingly at the river.

It's unclear which quick-witted person came up with the idea first, but they hired a fishing boat, rowed to the middle of the river, and found an excellent spot to watch the battle.

This move was like throwing a stone into a lake, instantly creating a huge ripple. Following suit, others flocked to the scene. The fishing boats and covered boats that were originally scattered on the river were transformed into a dense array of boats centered on the platform in the middle of the river within just half an hour, completely surrounding the high platform on the water, like a floating fortress.

It made those on stage want to compose poems with spears across their shoulders, and those below the stage want to add fuel to the fire.

Amidst the intense anticipation of the crowd, several invited martial arts masters emerged from the academy and began to take the stage.

The first to emerge was a scholar in a Confucian robe, holding a judge's pen. He had a lean face and a steady gait; he was none other than Lucius, known as the "Divine Pen."

"It's Lucius! I've heard that when he's drunk, he paints horses and you can hear them neigh; when he's angry, he paints tigers and they can scare away wild beasts!" A knowledgeable martial artist in the crowd exclaimed in a low voice, showing off his knowledge to the people around him and boasting.

Next came a slender young swordsman carrying a wood-chopping knife on his shoulder. He had a handsome face, but his gait was powerful and imposing.

This man is Teng Yicheng, nicknamed "Chopping Wood Cleaver" from western Hunan.

"Teng Yicheng is here too? I heard that several female warriors are chasing him, but he dares to show his face in public today. It must be that Mount Song has guaranteed his safety."

Finally, an elderly man with gray hair and beard appeared, dressed in a brocade robe, leaning on a dragon-headed cane. His calm eyes showed little life, and his demeanor was dignified. He was none other than "Master" Kohachiman. Although his name was renowned, he had rarely been seen in the martial arts world in recent years.

"They even managed to get Mr. Gu involved? He's a respected elder from the previous generation in our Huguang region!"

"I heard he rarely ventured into the martial world after being taken in as a son-in-law by the Xue family, but he's here today!"

These three individuals might not be considered significant by true top martial arts masters, but they are legendary figures among the vast majority of lower and middle-class martial artists. The fact that Bai Lian Fang was able to invite them demonstrates their considerable effort.

However, given Shen An's status as a second-generation disciple of Mount Song, this was the only group he could persuade. The three took their seats in the guest section below Shen An, which only highlighted the solitary nature of the young man in the main seat.

Just then, an even more violent commotion erupted at the entrance of the academy. Its force was like a thunderclap in a clear sky, instantly overshadowing everything that had just happened and drawing everyone's attention from the platform to the riverbank!

"Third Master Liu! It's Liu Zhengfeng from the Hengshan Sect! Third Master Liu has arrived!"

"Good heavens! Why is Liu Zhengfeng here too? He hasn't been showing his face much lately, has he?"

"This is going to be quite a spectacle! With Master Liu here in person, this sword-testing tournament carries a completely different weight!"

The roar was deafening, and the crowd gathered on the riverbank parted to both sides like Moses parting the sea, making way for a wide passage.

Surrounded by a group of Hengshan disciples, Liu Zhengfeng walked slowly towards them. Today, he wore a royal blue brocade robe, a warm smile on his face, and an air of dignified composure. As he walked, he frequently nodded and greeted the martial arts practitioners around him with clasped hands, his every gesture displaying the demeanor of a renowned master.

His arrival was like pouring boiling water into a pot of already bubbling oil. Everyone understood that Liu Zhengfeng's appearance at this moment was no accident. He represented the Hengshan Sect, and his attitude could almost determine the final outcome of this turmoil.

Under the tea stall on the riverbank, Yan Shiqi's face instantly darkened to the point of being almost dripping with water. On the other side, Sha Xihe let out a long sigh of relief, picked up his teacup, and a look of understanding flashed in his eyes: "So that's how it is. With Liu Zhengfeng as his backer, no wonder he's so fearless."

Liu Zhengfeng weaved through the crowd, entered the academy, and headed straight for the platform. His gaze swept across the entire hall, finally settling on Shen An, who sat at the head of the table. He laughed heartily, "Nephew Shen, I've heard so much about your sword-testing tournament lately! I've come uninvited, just to ask for a cup of tea. I hope you won't mind, nephew?"

Shen An had received the news from Qu Yang last night, so he wasn't surprised. He simply rose slowly and bowed respectfully, saying, "It is an honor for this junior and Bai Lian Fang to have Uncle Liu grace us with his presence. Please take a seat!"

After saying that, he personally led Liu Zhengfeng to the seat of honor next to him.

Behind the crowd, a cold gaze was fixed on Liu Zhengfeng's back.

Ma Bao, along with several of his men, had been following from a distance. Seeing that Liu Zhengfeng was actually openly supporting Shen An, some doubts began to grow in his mind.

However, Liu Zhengfeng was known for his kindness in the martial arts world, and it wouldn't be unreasonable for him to lend a hand when he saw the younger generation of the Five Mountains Sword Sect in dire straits. He simply kept his doubts to himself.

Seeing Liu Zhengfeng enter the academy and go up to the platform, he decided not to follow. After looking around, he made a decision, waved his hand to signal his men to disperse, and then quickly ran to the riverbank, only to find that all the boats had already left the shore and there was no spare boat.

Ma Bao wasn't annoyed at all, because this was exactly what he had expected. Soon, he locked onto a perfect target—a small boat that had just left the shore and was slowly rowing towards the outer edge of the formation of boats.

The boat was small. Through the lifted curtain, two well-dressed merchants could be seen sitting in the cabin, happily drinking and pointing at the platform in the middle of the river while eating a plate of fennel beans. At the stern, a lean boatman was humming a tune and rowing the oars listlessly. They were still several dozen feet away from the main fleet, in a perfect hunting ground.

Without the slightest hesitation, Ma Bao retreated into a secluded patch of reeds, crouched low, and like a water snake, silently slid into the icy river water toward the small boat.

The boatman, humming a tune, was completely unaware as he approached the stern like a ghost.

The next moment, a cold and powerful hand emerged from the water like a venomous snake, without stirring up a single splash, precisely covering the boatman's mouth and nose, forcing any possible screams back into his throat. The boatman's body stiffened abruptly, instinctively trying to struggle, but another hand had already swiftly gripped his neck, its five fingers twisting sharply in the opposite direction.

"Click."

A muffled cracking sound, instantly swallowed by the river wind and human voices, rang out.

The boatman's body went limp, as if all his bones had been removed. Ma Bao didn't let go; instead, with a gentle, almost tender touch, he slowly lowered the still-warm body into the water. A soft "plop" was heard, and a tiny ripple spread out before disappearing completely, as if the person had never existed.

Inside the cabin, the two merchants were completely unaware of what was happening. One of them had just finished a drink and was still talking loudly: "...I think that Shen An is just a show-off..."

His words came to an abrupt halt.

A pair of icy hands silently emerged from the gap in the curtain behind him, one covering his mouth, the other striking his temple at an odd angle. The merchant's eyes bulged, and without uttering a sound, his head lolled to the side, and he slumped onto the table, his wine glass rolling away and spilling wine all over the table.

"Old Zhang? What are you doing..." The merchant opposite was stunned and was about to ask a question when a dark shadow darted into the cabin like a cat, and then a hand was pressed against his chest.

He opened his mouth wide, but no sound came out. The last glimmer of light in his eyes quickly faded, and his body slowly leaned back, collapsing onto the deck.

Ma Bao's movements were fluid and smooth, without the slightest hesitation.

He silently lowered both bodies into the river, walked to the stern, picked up the boatman's worn-out straw hat, put it on his head, covering most of his face. He picked up the oar and began to row slowly and steadily.

The awning boat, which had just witnessed a silent massacre, had a new owner. It leisurely parted the water, returned to the shore to pick up two men, and then, like a slippery black fish, silently merged into the noisy "row of boats," becoming an inconspicuous part of it.

From the perspective of boats on the shore or around it, it was just a boat that had arrived late and finally found a place to stop.

No one knew that the passengers and boatman on the boat were already asleep at the bottom of the river.