Having studied for a hundred years, why do you call me the Martial Saint?

I can't think of anything.

"Put it on again!"

Lu Zhongzheng's face was grim as he continued to give orders.

"Master craftsman, who are these people?" a Seven-Star craftsman asked from a gap in the room.

"I don't know, it looks like they were sent here to their deaths," Lu Zhongzheng said coldly.

He was very calm and gave excellent command, but he was actually very nervous inside.

Their mechanical skills are fine for dealing with henchmen, but against a true master, they'd probably be nothing more than toys.

Fortunately, Fan Yun had already taken the two children away from Suishan, so they had no worries.

Just then, a commotion broke out at the corner at the foot of the mountain, and a white figure drifted in.

"Palace Master Luo?" Lu Zhongzheng narrowed his eyes.

Luo Gushuang led her disciples out from the other side and encountered Lu Zhongzheng. She was slightly taken aback, but then said naturally, "Master Lu, I saw some trouble on the mountain from the foot of the mountain, so I came here to help."

Lu Zhong was holding the crossbow tightly, not letting go.

"Palace Master Luo is very kind." He smiled slightly, "However, I can handle this mountain path, but if Palace Master is willing, I would appreciate it."

"It would be more useful to drive away the bandits down the mountain than to stay here."

Luo Gushuang's smile remained unchanged.

"Master Lu is joking. There are many people coming down the mountain. How can my mere dozen or so disperse them? I think this mountain path is narrow, perfect for waiting in comfort. Perhaps—"

"Why don't we turn back and leave the way we came?" Lu Zhongzheng replied, smiling with narrowed eyes. "This mountain path isn't wide enough to accommodate two families."

Luo Gushuang's expression was slightly cold.

The disciples behind her placed their hands on their weapons, creating a tense atmosphere.

A moment later, Luo Gushuang suddenly smiled.

"Since Master Lu insists, I will not disturb you any longer. We can simply take another route. I hope Master Lu will not try to stop us again."

She turned around, led her disciples toward another path, and quickly disappeared into the mountain trail.

Lu Zhongzheng watched her leave and sighed.

Looking back towards Suishan.

"Qin Zhongyu, Qin Zhongyu, this is all that Chijin Mountain can do."

Chijin Mountain has prestige, and people in the martial arts world will give it some respect. Just like today, Luo Gushuang would rather take a different route and waste some time than have a conflict with Chijin Mountain.

But that's all you can do to save face.

If Lu Zhongzheng and his men persist in their pursuit, or even attempt to go up the mountain to stop everything, then the prestige of Chijin Mountain will likely be ineffective.

Back then, they were just ordinary craftsmen. If they encountered someone like Luo Gushuang, they probably wouldn't have been able to withstand even a single encounter.

Of course, they're more than enough to deal with ordinary henchmen.

Another group of dark figures appeared ahead.

Lu Zhongzheng raised his crossbow and shouted, "Fire!"

shhhhh!

The crossbow bolts pierced the air, and the henchmen at the front fell to the ground with a thud, while those behind them surged forward as if oblivious to their fate.

The mountain road to the south.

Han Baitao sat on a large rock, his long sword lying horizontally beside him.

The corpses below stretched from the mountain path all the way to the corner, numbering probably in the dozens, all bearing sword wounds of varying degrees.

The remaining henchmen huddled around the corner, and even with the stimulant effect of the poison, no one dared to take a step forward.

Suddenly, Han Baitao raised his eyelids.

Around the corner, an old man in black robes strode over, followed by more than a dozen sword-wielding guards.

"Hai Yuxu".

Hai Yuxu stopped, his gaze sweeping over the corpses scattered on the ground. He sneered, "Han Baitao, are you blocking this way to act as a watchdog for Suishan?"

"If you only dare to talk big and then turn around and leave, I can pretend you were never here."

Hai Yuxu slowly drew his sword, his face cold: "Han Baitao, if it were twenty years ago, I might have been a little afraid of you—"

He took a step forward, and the sword guards behind him drew their swords simultaneously, in perfect unison.

"Now you're nothing but a cripple with one arm missing, what can you do to me?"

Han Baitao didn't speak, he just gripped the hilt of his sword.

The longsword was drawn from its sheath, and a flash of light appeared!

Hai Yuxu's sword thrust out simultaneously.

The two sword lights collided with a loud crash on the mountain path!

Outer Disciples' Courtyard.

"Hold the line! Don't let them break in!"

Fang Zhong stood guard at the courtyard gate, carrying a sword. The outer disciples from the surrounding area had already gathered around.

"Who are these people? Why are they acting like they have no regard for their lives?" Chen Wenyan asked, slicing through a bandit who lunged at him with his sword.

"It looks like he's been poisoned, it seems like—" Zhou Ji frowned and pondered, but couldn't figure it out for the time being.

"Sigh, you half-baked idiot—"

"Stop thinking about it, come help!"

A dozen or so outer disciples formed a sword formation and killed the henchmen who rushed in one by one.

These lackeys were mediocre in martial arts, far inferior to the disciples of Suishan.

But too many rushed in; every time one group was killed, another would come.

"We can't hold them off any longer! Aren't these people afraid of dying?!" one of the disciples roared.

On the other side of the mountainside.

Du Hongxiu, carrying a short sword, led the disciples of Hongxiu Manor in a charge.

The old lady was nearly fifty years old, but her swordsmanship was incredibly fierce. She charged through the crowd with a short sword, each strike aimed at the throat, each move a fatal blow.

Hu Bugui shielded her from the sneak attacks, killing her one by one with clean and swift movements.

"Brother Hu, where did these people come from? Why are they acting like madmen?" Du Hongxiu asked.

"If I'm not mistaken, it's the work of the Netherworld Cult," Hu Bugui said after a moment's thought. "These people have been poisoned by the Heart-Eating Poison; if they don't fight desperately, they'll die."

"No wonder—" the old woman muttered, her hands moving swiftly, taking down one person after another.

Besides these two, there were many other skilled martial artists on this road who were almost unanimously in favor of these lackeys, and there was a subtle tendency for them to launch a counterattack down the mountain.

Just then, an old man walked out from around the corner.

His face was covered in wrinkles, his eyes sunken, and he grinned: "Yang Qingfeng, you killed all my disciples and grand-disciples back then, leaving me not a single one. Today I've come to destroy your lineage!"

Danyao Hall.

Using the distant shouts of battle and the swirling snow, Meng Ping climbed in through the back window.

He knew this place by heart; he could find the medicine cabinet with his eyes closed.

He tiptoed into the inner room, took out a copper wire from his waist, fiddled with the keyhole a few times, and the lock clicked open.

Reaching inside, he pulled out a brocade box, opened it, and inside was a yellowed prescription.

"The formula for the Azure Wood Mystic Elixir—finally found!"

Meng Ping glanced at it again.

Only after confirming that it was Qingmu Xuandan, not Qingmu Dan, did he put the medicine book into his pocket.

Just as he finished dealing with the scene and turned to leave.

"stop!"

A voice came from the doorway.

Meng Ping froze, then slowly turned around.

He was a steward of the alchemy hall who was over fifty years old, with gray hair.

"Deacon Cui," Meng Ping said, forcing himself to speak.

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" Deacon Cui stared at him, approaching step by step.

Meng Ping appeared very nervous.

Suddenly, he flicked his left hand out of his sleeve, and a wisp of white smoke dispersed in front of Steward Cui.

"Sleeping powder? You dare—"

Before he could finish speaking, Deacon Cui stumbled and fell to the ground.

Meng Ping jumped out of the back window and landed on the snow.

After running several dozen steps, I couldn't help but look back.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, then disappeared into the snowstorm.