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

His famous nine-ringed broadsword was deeply embedded in the crack of the stone slab three steps away.

The hilt of the knife was still trembling slightly, the lingering vibrations not yet subsided.

His right hand was stretched out tightly forward, his face contorted, and he opened his mouth as if to shout something, but no sound came out...

They were so close, yet it felt like an insurmountable chasm...

Moreover, Li Xin also discovered that Wang Wu had a fine needle mark on his left scapula, which was caused by Sun Jiuzhen's unique poison needle.

The emerald green venom had already spread along the veins to his chest...

The tiger's mouth of his right hand was split open and bleeding. Fresh blood flowed slowly down the hilt of the knife, forming a dark red pool of blood on the bluestone ground.

Wang Jingya stood half a step behind Wang Wu, her body slightly hunched, her goose-feather saber pointing diagonally at the ground.

Partly for self-defense, and partly for leverage to support his somewhat unsteady body, his chest heaved rapidly, and sweat streamed down his forehead.

The sharp blade had three nicks, and the dried bloodstains on the blade had turned dark brown, a shocking sight, all scars left by days of fierce fighting.

Old Master Zhao leaned against the wall, barely managing to regulate his breathing. Tiny blood holes in his right elbow joint continuously oozed emerald green venom, which spread along the lines of his body, constantly eroding his flesh and meridians.

Black Tower collapsed onto the sandbag pile, a section of his chest caved in, each breath accompanied by a screeching sound of dislocated bones, his injuries were extremely severe.

Zhou Dashan struggled to support himself with the broken half of the gun barrel, his thigh pierced by a spear with the spear tip protruding half an inch through his body, blood dripping incessantly from the wound.

In the center of the crowd, the monk Mingxin stood quietly in place, his Dharma images constantly rotating, with four intertwined real and illusory Dharma images slowly rising and falling behind him.

A giant golden palm, five zhang wide, hung in mid-air, covering half the sky. The power of earth, water, fire, and wind merged into one, and the palm wind was so powerful that it caused the bluestone slabs around the execution platform to crack inch by inch, and the broken stones were rolled into dust.

Wang Wu gritted his teeth and shielded Wang Jingya tightly behind him. Countless ice spikes shot out from the edge of his golden palm, piercing her cloth clothes and tearing her flesh.

The biting cold penetrated into the flesh and blood, and the gushing blood was frozen instantly before it even hit the ground, congealing into dark red ice crystals.

He clenched his fist with one hand and smashed the ice spikes flying everywhere. His hand was cut by the ice shards, and the flesh of his knuckles was torn open, revealing the white bones. Yet he still stubbornly reached out, trying to reach the big knife in front of him.

From the deathly silent crowd, a figure in a blue robe slowly emerged.

The first to notice something was amiss were the idle people eating sunflower seeds by the roadside.

The sunflower seed shell at the corner of his mouth froze in place, the sunflower seed he was holding between his fingers stopped in mid-air, and his whole body froze instantly, like a clay sculpture.

The peanut vendor was utterly shocked. The iron pot slipped from his hand, scattering the roasted peanuts all over the ground. The peanuts bounced a few times on the bluestone slab, and the entire street fell into a deathly silence.

No one among the onlookers shouted or fled.

As if drawn by an invisible force, they all retreated to both sides, clearing a space of seven or eight steps.

Li Xin walked slowly through the crowd, his gaze calm and unwavering, devoid of joy or sorrow, yet it caused Mingxin's pupils to contract suddenly, and an extreme sense of dread to rise in his heart.

He stopped behind Wang Jingya, just one step away from the edge of the oppressive force of the Five-Zhang Golden Palm.

Everything before my eyes came into view:

The three nicks in the goose feather knife, the dried bloodstains on the blade, Wang Jingya's clenched knuckles that had turned white, and Wang Wu's bloodied palm as he repeatedly reached out in vain.

After a long silence, Li Xin slowly spoke. His voice was not loud, but clear and gentle, yet it penetrated the entire room and reached everyone's ears.

"Is the knife sharpened?"

Wang Jingya turned around abruptly, tears she had been holding back for so long bursting forth and falling onto the broken blade. She choked out, "...It's sharpened."

"Then stand up straight."

Li Xin lowered his wrist, and the Panlong Spear slammed heavily onto the ground. The spear's tail struck the bluestone slab, producing a deep, resonant boom.

The ground collapsed, and spiderweb-like cracks extended in all directions.

Just then, Mingxin's five-zhang golden giant palm suddenly pressed down an inch, rumbling like a mountain falling, only three feet away from Wang Wu's head.

Li Xin suddenly raised his hand and gently flicked the tip of his spear upwards.

The moment the spear tip touched the bottom of the golden palm, there was no earth-shattering sound; it was as if the sky itself had been shattered.

Without a sound, a point of golden light unfolded, more dazzling than the midday sun.

Fine cracks burst open from the point of contact and spread rapidly in all directions.

That enormous golden hand, which had been so powerful that it seemed to dominate the heavens and the earth, shattered instantly, turning into countless tiny golden fragments.

Golden light fell like rain onto the bluestone ground, producing a dense, crackling sound.

Each piece was burned with tiny holes into the stone slab, and wisps of white smoke rose up.

It was densely packed, like a layer of snow-white hair growing on the bluestone slab.

Mingxin's fingertips, which were spinning the prayer beads, suddenly stopped, and his pupils contracted violently.

"...It's you."

Mingxin's voice was hoarse, and her face was full of disbelief.

"it's me."

"You shouldn't have come."

"But I still came..."

Li Xin lowered the tip of his spear and said calmly, "Your junior brother Yinping left a message before he died. Don't you want to hear it?"

Mingxin pursed her lips tightly, remaining silent for a long time. The Sanskrit luster of the prayer beads in her palm gradually dimmed and went out. Finally, she spoke in a low voice: "What did he say?"

"I regret entering the snowy mountains."

These eight simple words, written lightly, weighed heavily on people's hearts.

Mingxin lowered her eyes and stared at the eighteen Buddhist beads in her palm, counting them over and over again. After counting three times, she slowly raised her head.

The golden halo surrounding his eyes faded considerably, revealing a pair of eyes that should have been clear and bright at twenty-six, but were now filled with weariness and relief.

“That’s because he’s useless.” A faint smile appeared on Mingxin’s lips.

They don't seem to have lost confidence.

"Do you know why it wasn't the old monk Wuchang who came here, but you, the wandering monk of Lingshan Temple?"

Li Xin asked indifferently.

"...You mean, he wants me dead?"

Mingxin chuckled to himself, finally seeing through the scheming of his fellow disciples and the cold-heartedness of the sect.

"What he thinks is not important; what you think is important."

Li Xin was merely stating a fact and did not care about Mingxin's choice.

Mingxin's gaze fell on a small piece of rock sugar stuck in the gap between the prayer beads. It was slightly yellow in color and had already hardened and clumped together.

This is a piece of candy he casually slipped to the youngest disciple of the sect last winter. The child couldn't bear to eat it and secretly hid it in the crease of his Buddhist prayer beads, where it has remained until now.

After a brief silence, he suddenly smiled softly.

His smile was extremely faint, devoid of sorrow or joy, surprise or regret, as if he had finished piecing together the last piece of a puzzle, and had completely seen through all the conspiracies, schemes, grudges, and entanglements.

He looked away from everyone else, only staring down at the crumbs of rock sugar, and said softly, "Benefactor, please..."

His words conveyed a strong sense of self-confidence and unwavering faith.

He has been practicing Buddhism for twenty years; how could his resolve be so easily shaken?

Some people deserve to be killed, so what if you're just taking the fall for someone else?

"Pfft!"

No one can describe the speed and power of that shot.

The sky and the earth seemed to have transformed into a vast blue sea.

The air surged like waves.

Then, in everyone's eyes, the sea cracked open, eventually turning into an empty, circular passage.

It has always permeated Mingxin's heart and mind.

Blood gushed out like a fountain.

A wisp of pale golden blood spilled from the corner of Mingxin's mouth, and his body slowly went limp and fell down.

They didn't even have time to react.

"What kind of marksmanship is that?"

Mingxin said in a hoarse voice.

He suddenly felt that his previous insistence had become extremely ridiculous.

When the other person talks to him, it's just talking; it's not about winning someone's heart or mind.

Li Xin chuckled and said, "Only when facing death will everyone regret their choices. But who knows that all the endings were actually predetermined long ago?"

He had barely finished speaking.

The five-zhang golden palm that had been suspended in mid-air completely dissipated, turning into a gentle breeze that scattered the May snow that was falling all over Caishikou.

Just like the body of the monk Mingxin, as the golden flames spread, it burned into a pile of shallow ashes.

The wind and snow stopped abruptly, and the gloomy sky was swept away.

The entire room fell into a deathly silence.

The onlookers were dumbfounded. Some people's legs went weak and they knelt down. Some covered their mouths tightly and dared not make a sound. Some held their children tightly in their arms and trembled uncontrollably.

The overwhelming shock silenced all other sounds; the entire street was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

After a brief silence, a thunderous clamor erupted.

"That's Li Xin! The Imperial Advisor and the Top Martial Arts Champion!"

"No wonder he's so formidable! Back in the martial arts imperial examination, he single-handedly defeated four foreign masters!"

"I remember! In the Battle of Guangping, he sank the foreign fleet, which shocked the entire overseas world!"

Li Xin completely ignored the comments from others and did not turn around.

As he turned around, a gentle breeze lifted the hem of his blue robe, and the last drop of blood from the tip of his spear fell onto the center of the long bluestone street, as if to foreshadow the end of this farce.

The small silver bottle in her arms suddenly trembled.

Li Xin's spirits lifted.

On a level invisible to the naked eye, the black and yellow smoke transforms into a column of gas, which flows into the small silver bottle.

It flows mightily like a long river.

Soon, a mass gathered inside the silver bottle.

"This is probably worth more than a hundred taels."

The Great Snow Mountain is truly magnificent.

Li Xin sighed inwardly.

This monk Mingxin had only recently descended the mountain and arrived in the capital, yet he had already received so much dragon energy.

The other martial artists, such as Wang Wu and Cheng Yuanhua, couldn't get a single penny.

Li Xin even suspected that even his own senior master, Yin Changshou, might not be able to obtain such a valuable item for cultivation.

But here in the Great Snow Mountain.

Are people of a certain status all allocated in hundreds of taels?

How many monks are there in Wuchang's realm?

How much can the Ling Shan Main Temple of the Great Snow Mountain charge?

"No, the great formation must be broken and the dragon vein must be seized. Even if I can't use it all, I can let Hongxiu and my senior sister use it, as well as my elder brother, Xiaoyue and the others. Their cultivation is improving too slowly."

With the aid of this dragon energy and the guidance of a renowned master, one could very well make rapid progress and be free from any worries.

……

Thoughts raced through my mind.

Zhou Cang, who had been standing to the side with a sneer, suddenly sprang up, his iron arm slamming out horizontally, his body surging with steel patterns as he fiercely pounced on the enemy.

Li Xin didn't even turn around, he just slapped out with his palm, boom...

A fierce wind howled, and a golden palm print was imprinted on Zhou Cang's body.