Republic of China Era: Entering the Dao through Divine Strike.

Using the residual force from the shock of his right arm, his left palm suddenly shot out from his waist, covered with a layer of black energy, and went straight for Li Xin's left rib.

Iron Sand Poison Palm. Soaked in medicinal broth for thirty years, its poison penetrates to the bone.

The person struck on the palm may appear to have no visible injuries, but in reality, the toxins will spread along the meridians, rotting bones and corroding the veins.

With this insidious skill, he had killed many opponents whose cultivation far surpassed his own.

All the deceased were bluish-green all over, and black blood was flowing from their seven orifices.

Before Li Xin's palm strike was exhausted, he smoothly and gently swiped to the left, the movement light and graceful, like a brush drawing an arc.

The moment it touched the other person's palm, it suddenly transformed into a rope.

Bagua Ox Tongue Palm, Golden Thread Wrapped Wrist.

Wang Zhenshan felt as if his punch had struck a wet cotton ball, absorbing and neutralizing all the powerful force. Even the poisonous energy in his palm was sealed tightly, preventing any leakage.

He tried desperately to pull his hand away, but it was firmly locked.

The slender, pale hand before him possessed a strength surpassing that of iron hoops. A series of fine, crisp cracking sounds rang out, and his entire wrist and arm bones shattered instantly, the joints turning into a jumbled mess.

Wang Zhenshan was instantly drenched in cold sweat, his eyes filled with disbelief.

The Iron Shirt technique, which was impervious to swords and axes, and the Poison Palm technique, which was invincible in Guangping, were completely crippled by the opponent's two casual moves.

The extreme pain and fear drove him to complete madness. He slammed his shoulder down and rammed into Li Xin's chest.

To seek life amidst death, like a tiger crashing into a mountain!

Li Xin raised his palm and gently pressed it on the top of his head.

This palm strike looked gentle, yet it carried the weight of a mountain pressing down on you.

Wang Zhenshan's knees snapped instantly, causing him to drop half his height. His chin slammed heavily against his chest, and the force of the blow severed half of his tongue.

A cold, calm voice came from above, utterly undisturbed: "Nonsense."

He had already heard from the people at Yuanshun Escort Agency that this guy said he was going to beat him to death. He thought the guy had some amazing skills, but it turned out he was just another frog in a well.

It can only be said that information was extremely outdated in this era, and martial artists were extremely confident.

Even if you are invincible, even if you destroy a city by yourself, in the eyes of these people, it is nothing more than the praise of the world.

No one will admit defeat until the moment of true death.

However, it's understandable. Back in the previous life, there were video evidence, so those who didn't want to believe it still didn't.

The world's strongest masters are, in the eyes of netizens, nothing more than ordinary people, the kind of people who could be stabbed to death with a small knife.

It is very difficult to acknowledge the excellence of others.

Especially martial artists.

No one will be convinced unless they fight head-on.

It died as soon as it was hit.

A thought flashed through his mind, and Li Xin released a slight force from his palm.

Wang Zhenshan's skull collapsed from the top of his head all the way down, his brow, bridge of his nose, and jaw were all shattered, and his entire head was forcibly pressed into his chest cavity.

His body shrank again, like an earthen wall collapsed by a torrential rain, crashing to the ground and kicking up dust.

The luster of the bluish-gray iron shirt on his body had completely faded, and his skin and flesh were a mix of red and black.

The remaining limbs twitched a few times instinctively, then fell completely still.

The entire dock fell silent instantly.

The guards who had surrounded them all froze in place. Some were so frightened that their knives fell to the ground, while others' legs went weak and they kept backing away, their faces full of terror, not daring to even breathe loudly.

Not far away, Duan Heng's face twitched violently, and extreme fear surged in his single eye.

He thought that Wang Zhenshan's Iron Shirt and Poison Palm techniques would at least hold Li Xin back for a while, enough for him to slip onto the boat from the rocky beach and escape.

Unexpectedly, Wang Zhenshan died in less than three breaths.

With a wave of his hand, the once arrogant and domineering Wang Zhenshan was crushed like a chick.

He immediately released the knife hilt, quietly signaled for retreat behind him, and roared sharply, "Fire! Fire now!"

That shout was partly an order, and partly a way to bolster his own courage.

Because he clearly saw that Li Xin's gaze pierced through the panicked crowd, past the corpses scattered on the ground, and locked onto him directly.

His eyes held no rage, no murderous intent, only an icy indifference.

Duan Heng had spent six years in the naval camp, witnessing pirate battles, official framing, and countless bloody scenes, but he had never experienced such a bone-chilling fear.

He dared not linger, lightly touching the rocks with his toes, his body nimbly darting about, like a raccoon cat weaving between the crevices of the rocks.

They knew the escape route by heart, where it was safe to settle down, where they could hide, and where there were hidden currents to avoid danger. They could walk with their eyes closed and not make a mistake.

Three years ago, he escaped from being hunted by bandits in southern Fujian, thanks to his ability to assess situations.

Now all he wants is to board a foreign merchant ship, use the letter of appointment in his pocket to travel to Southeast Asia, and escape Guangping completely.

The merchant ship was right there, with a rope ladder hanging from the side of the ship, swaying in the wind, only a dozen steps away.

Just as he leaped into the air, a dark shadow pierced through the air.

The spear pierced his back with precision, and the immense force pinned him to the reef.

Duan Heng looked down at the spear tip protruding from his chest, mouthfuls of blood and foam gushing out, his single eye wide open, the pupil rapidly dilating.

Its fingers scratched at the rocks in vain, leaving a few shallow white marks, before finally hanging limply.

The sea breeze lifted his collar, revealing a corner of the blood-soaked letter of appointment, from which a few lines of writing could be vaguely discerned: Duan Heng is hereby appointed as the representative of Guangping Trading Company in Southeast Asia.

……

The foreign gun team at the dock finally arrived.

More than twenty Anssa soldiers quickly lined up, with the front row kneeling on one knee and the back row standing upright with their guns raised.

The gun barrels were all pointed forward...

Lester, however, hesitated to give the order to fire.

He stood tall and straight, his blond hair was neatly combed, his dark blue military uniform was crisp and brand new, and his slender fingers caressed the hilt of his sword.

His grey-blue eyes were fixed on Li Xin, filled with scrutiny and excitement.

He spent two years in Qing China and met countless so-called martial arts masters.

Those who had practiced their martial arts for half their lives could not withstand more than three moves from his sword.

But the young man in the blue robe before them was different from everyone else.

Just standing there made my hair stand on end, and a sense of danger crept into my heart.

"Lightning Sword, Lester." He introduced himself in broken Mandarin, his tone carrying an arrogance ingrained in his bones. "Unsharp Fencing Champion, undefeated for three years at the Royal Academy of Swordsmanship, awarded the Queen's Medal at the age of twenty."

Others call me the Lightning Sword, because when I draw my sword, all the world can see is a blur of electricity.

He lightly tapped the ground with his feet alternately, his knees slightly bent, his body swaying slightly from side to side, his steps bouncing back and forth, his center of gravity shifting unpredictably.

It makes it impossible for anyone to predict the direction of the attack.

"I swept across Britain and conquered Europe, winning all forty-three duels."

Having fought in France and Western countries, none of the top swordsmen could withstand my attacks for even a minute. Having been in Qing China for two years, I haven't encountered a worthy opponent. I hope you can give me a warm-up.

His gaze swept over Li Xin's relaxed stance, with a hint of disdain: "Your stance doesn't protect your vitals; it's not rigorous enough."

Li Xin looked curious.

In the past, Western boxing completely suppressed Eastern martial arts, pursuing the ultimate speed and power, and even held various competitions, which were very successful.

In this life, he saw it during the martial arts examination.

But that's all there is to it.

However, I've heard that this person uses electric current to stimulate cells to temper his body and practice swordsmanship. I wonder if there will be any surprises.

"Make your move, let's see how fast you are?"

Li Xin raised his hand and drew the Xintinghou sword from his shoulder. The blade gleamed like a pool of autumn water, reflecting the sunlight.

He pointed the tip of his knife at the ground, and the blade vibrated slightly.

hum...

All surrounding sounds were completely silenced by the sound of the blade, and a chill ran through everyone's hearts, as if they were witnessing a scene of carnage.

Lester's pupils contracted sharply, and he took a deep breath.

I dare not wait any longer.

With a slip of the foot, the figure cut through the wind.

Three zhang away, they covered the distance in a flash...

The rapier struck with lightning speed, without feints or probing.

It pierced straight into Li Xin's mouth, with extreme speed.

All around, no one could see the sword's path clearly; only a fleeting flash of white light remained.

This is his ultimate move, the Lightning Style.

With this move, he won thirty-one duels.

Often, the opponent doesn't even have to raise their hand before being stabbed in the throat.

Ding.

An extremely light and crisp collision sound rang out.

A faint, cold glint appeared.

Lester didn't see his opponent draw his sword before his rapier had already deflected three inches.

The tip of the sword grazed past his clothes, and the strike missed.

Lester was shocked and quickly sheathed his sword and retreated, as if someone had pulled him by the waist with a rope, and he was suddenly pulled back several feet away.

After regaining his footing, he looked down at his right hand, where a tear had appeared in his delicate fencing glove, cut by the blade.

A faint bloodstain was visible on the palm of my hand, from which blood was slowly seeping.

In that split second, if he had been even slightly slower in withdrawing his sword, his entire hand would have been severed.

"What kind of swordsmanship is this?" Lester's arrogance vanished completely, replaced by astonishment in his eyes.

Just now, he didn't even see how his opponent parried the sword moves or how he struck. Fortunately, his extensive experience saved him.

A sense of danger surged into his mind, and before he had reached his limit, he immediately retreated.

He managed to save his life.

However, his swordsmanship had exceeded the limits of human reaction.

The other party was actually much faster.

How can this be?

Lester gritted his teeth, raised his hand and stroked the blade. A layer of blue-white lightning suddenly danced and crackled across the rapier.

The sea breeze, scorched by the electric current, had a faint burnt smell.

This was his most treasured secret technique, a military-developed program to stimulate the body with electrical currents; he was the only surviving test subject.

The sword is imbued with lightning, capable of instantly paralyzing an opponent's limbs.

A mere moment's hesitation can seal the victory.

Crackling sounds echoed from Leites' body as his movements became erratic, leaving numerous afterimages that made it impossible to distinguish between reality and illusion.

The next second, three sword lights burst forth simultaneously.

With three quick changes of direction, the sword flashed in a Z-shape.

Blue and white lightning tore through the twilight, locking Li Xin's throat, heart, and abdomen, sealing off all escape routes.

Everyone in the audience held their breath, unable to see the trajectory of the moves at all.

A fleeting figure appeared, accompanied by three blinding flashes of lightning.