Killing Monks

Ren Shan drank a lot at this drinking party.

At first he only sipped it, but then he started pouring bowl after bowl into his mouth. The wine dripped down his chin, soaking his clothes, but he didn't bother to wipe it away.

With his cultivation level, he wouldn't get drunk even if he drank dozens of kilograms of wine.

But he still got drunk.

Wine doesn't intoxicate people; people intoxicate themselves.

Guangyuan noticed that his eyes were starting to glaze over and his speech was becoming slurred, so he stood up.

"Since you are drunk, I will take my leave."

He came here to investigate the origin of the "Mitian Scripture" and to find out which fellow countryman who had traveled through time modified it in this way.

Now that we've achieved our goal, it's time to go.

Ren Shan raised his eyes, gazing at him with hazy, drunken eyes.

Guangyuan's figure was reflected in those drunken eyes.

"You old bastard..."

He murmured, his voice muffled.

Are you leaving again?

Guangyuan paused in his steps.

Ren Shan regarded him as his master.

Even though one is a monk and the other is the leader of a demonic sect, Ren Shan just feels they look alike.

so similar.

It's not about appearance, it's about the feeling. It's the tone of voice, the expression when looking at people, and something else that's hard to describe.

Like when he was a child, when he faced his master.

That year, he was so hungry he was delirious. He lay on the roadside, thinking he was going to die.

A person stood in front of him, backlit, so his face was obscured.

"Young man," the man said, "will you be my son?"

He would be willing to be a son, or even a dog.

He nodded vigorously.

"father!"

"No..." the man held up a finger and shook it, "My foolish son, you should call me—"

He paused, then gave a strange smile.

"Old Man Whitebeard."

That person clearly didn't have a beard, and even if he did, it wasn't white.

But from then on, he called him Old Man Whitebeard.

Back then, that old bastard wasn't a bastard yet.

He hasn't gone mad yet.

She would joke with him, pat his head, and sit by his bedside when he had nightmares at night.

He is very gentle.

very patient.

Like a real father.

When did things change?

When did he become that ruthless killer, someone he could no longer understand?

Ren Shan didn't know.

All he knew was that the monk standing before him reminded him of that old scoundrel from a long, long time ago.

That old bastard who hasn't changed yet.

He leaned back in his chair, slurring his words, and mumbled:

"You old bastard... I'm better than you..."

"I've trained a...free-spirited apprentice..."

His voice grew softer and softer, but his words still pierced Guangyuan's ears clearly.

"I'm better than you!!!"

A son is the continuation of his father.

But what Ren Shan gave to his apprentice was something that neither he nor the old bastard had ever received.

free.

Without the burdens of the Mitian Sect, without the debts of his master, and without a path he had to take.

Chu Kuangjun wanted to roam the martial world, so he did. He wanted to find martial arts techniques for real men, so he went to find them. He wanted to go wherever he wanted, so he went.

That was the kind of life Ren Shan admired when he was young.

Guangyuan stood there, looking at the old man slumped over the table.

The river breeze blew in through the window, ruffling his white hair.

He didn't say anything more, but quietly withdrew.

He wasn't worried about the old man's safety; even when drunk, this old man could take on ten of him with one hand.

Leaving Jiangbei County, Guangyuan headed south along the official road.

They hadn't gone far when suddenly a shout of battle came from ahead.

The clash of weapons could be heard clearly even half a mile away.

Guangyuan paused in his steps.

Along his journey, the territory of Northern Zhou was relatively peaceful, and it was rare to see such open and violent fighting on the main roads.

He gathered his strength and rushed over.

At the bend of the official road, below a low slope, a massacre was unfolding.

Six or seven men in black, wielding long knives, surrounded and attacked a man holding a sword.

The man was protecting a family behind him.

A young couple huddled beside a carriage, tightly holding a five- or six-year-old child. The woman was pale and pressed the child's head against her chest, preventing him from seeing it.

An old man stood to the side, his expression calm, as if he had seen life and death battles many times over.

Guangyuan remained hidden behind the tree and did not reveal himself immediately.

Let's see how it goes first.

The swordsman appeared to be a martial artist at the Earth Realm. He wielded his sword with incredible speed and power, forcing the men in black to keep their distance. However, the men in black outnumbered the black-clad men and their swordsmanship was ruthless, each move aimed at vital points.

One careless move, and the swordsman's back was wide open.

A man in black seized the opportunity and slashed at his back with a long sword that carried a chilling aura!

"when!"

A dull thud, like striking a metal plate.

The swordsman's clothes were torn, but the exposed skin had a faint metallic sheen. The blade sliced ​​through, leaving only a shallow white mark.

The Thirteen Protectors' Horizontal Training.

Guangyuan narrowed his eyes.

The leader of the men in black was not surprised to see this. Those who made a name for themselves in the Great Zhou Dynasty all possessed some form of external martial arts. But few could reach the level of the man before them.

"Are you from the military?" the leader of the men in black asked in a deep voice.

The swordsman held his sword horizontally against his chest, refusing to budge an inch: "With me here, I can protect Lord Yin and his entire family!"

The leader of the men in black didn't waste any more words, waving his hand: "I'll hold him off, you guys kill the ones behind!"

Having said that, he thrust his long sword forward and charged. The flashes of sword and blade intertwined, and the battle raged on, neither gaining the upper hand.

The remaining men in black immediately bypassed the battle and rushed towards the carriage.

The old man then moved.

He stepped forward, blocking the men in black, his expression remaining calm.

"Are you Imperial Guards?"

He asked, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching everyone's ears.

"Your Majesty... still refuses to let me go?"

The Imperial Guards were the personal bodyguards of the Northern Zhou emperor, while the Secret Guards were military guards who did dirty work, kept their profession hidden from the light of day, and were dedicated to killing those who could not be brought to light.

He had already resigned from his post and returned to his hometown, but His Majesty's secret guards still came after him.

Guangyuan hid behind a tree, his brows slightly furrowed.

Even after being dismissed from office and returning to his hometown, he was still subjected to a brutal extermination operation, and these were even secret guards. It goes without saying who this old man had offended in the court.

The man in black did not answer.

The leader was still locked in combat with the swordsman, while the others pounced on the old man. A flash of light, and two long swords slashed down from the left and right, aiming straight for the old man's neck and ribs.

The old man took a step back, and his hands suddenly turned into claws.

Those hands, which had been behind their backs, were now extended, carrying a faint black aura.

With a flick of his fingers, he swiftly and precisely gripped the two blades, like a hawk swooping down on a rabbit!

"Snap!"

With a crisp sound, the two long swords broke into several pieces, and the fragments of the blades clattered and fell to the ground.

The man in black's eyes narrowed.

They knew the old man was a high-ranking official, not a weak civil servant, but they never expected his Eagle Claw Kung Fu to be so skilled.

But they were more than just swordsmen.

Discard the knife, switch to fists.

The two men in black discarded their broken knives, their bodies sinking as they unleashed a barrage of punches and palm strikes. Their moves were wide and powerful, each punch accompanied by a whistling sound.

Nine Dragons Overlord Body!

The Imperial Guards' signature skills.