Volume 1: Wild Beasts, Changes Begin Chapter 25 Longing for the Jianghu
When the screams reached the restaurant, Yang Pinting held both swords together, rose up, and lightly stepped on the ceiling of the second floor of the restaurant. Her body was like a lone wild goose in the summer night when thunder and rain were about to come, spread its wings in the sky, and at the last moment, she broke away from the fight with Feng Qingyang and the other three.
When a man in white rushed out of the restaurant, his long sword even picked off a few tiles from the second-floor eaves.
Feng Qingyang and the others were also using their own internal energy to chase after her, but unexpectedly, Yang Pinting did not walk along the streets or rooftops, but floated more than ten meters in the air. When she was about to fall, a tile that was on her sword fell off, and her beautiful feet stepped on the tile.
Snapped!
The tiles fell to the ground, but the beautiful figure in white actually rose into the air again with the slightest force of her step.
She repeated this action three times along the way, at the cost of three tiles, and flew in a straight line from above the restaurant, taking the shortest route to under the Drizzle Bridge.
Feng Qingyang and others looked at each other in silence.
How much force can a tile flying in the air provide? Even a swallow or a sparrow would not be able to lift itself off from such a tile, right?
The woman's swordsmanship just now had already opened their eyes, but they were still in the process of understanding it. However, her lightness skills at this moment had truly reached an astonishing level.
Actually, this is not surprising.
Yang Pinting is from the Ancient Tomb Sect. The sect's martial arts can be traced back to the Southern Song Dynasty. The Quanzhen Sect, which was the most powerful sect in the martial arts world at the time, had a Golden Goose Kung Fu. It was said that after being practiced to perfection, one could take 37 steps in the air without any external force. However, apart from the founder of the sect, Wang Chongyang, there was probably no one else who could master it.
If the Tomb School wants to master the Lightness Kung Fu, one needs to catch eighty-one flying sparrows with bare hands in mid-air. Under this rule, every generation of the Tomb School has people who can actually master the Lightness Kung Fu.
Fang Yunhan resolutely went into the water before, and used the different pressure underwater than on the ground to bring out the advantage of his deeper internal strength. He fought with the two Dharma Kings of the Sun and Moon Sect, seized the opportunity to seriously injure the Black Dharma King, and used the unique trick of controlling the bones in his back to tear off one of Murong Hongyu's arms. However, he was hit in the heart and was injured after all.
When the white shadow passed through the water, it rescued Murong Hongyu with one hand and swung a sharp sword with the other hand. Fang Yunhan, who was falling towards the water, only had time to muster up his strength and launch a palm strike.
The palm force and sword energy were offset. Yang Pinting stood on tiptoe on the water surface for a few times, then stepped onto the waves and climbed ashore.
"Black Dharma King, retreat."
After Yang Pinting finished speaking, she took Murong Hongyu away. When the Black Dharma King was holding the stone steps for washing clothes with one hand and was about to jump ashore, he suddenly heard the sound of splashing water behind him.
Fang Yunhan, with half of his body in the river, stirred the water with his hands. Wave after wave of water mixed with his palm power, like a huge iron hammer weighing hundreds of pounds, continuously hit the Black Dharma King who had just turned around.
At this time, Fang Yunhan was soaked all over, but wisps of smoke were coming out of his shoulders and head. That was the moisture evaporated by his internal energy.
His eyes looked like a lion's biting eyes.
The woman in white has extraordinary martial arts skills and is impossible to catch up with, but you, the Black Magic King, are my target.
Do you still want to escape?!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom!!!
The surging white waves submerged the Black Dharma King and even broke a large piece of the stone steps for washing clothes.
When a hint of red appeared in the waves , Fang Yunhan waded over and picked up the dying Black Dharma King with one hand. After getting ashore, he stepped heavily and jumped onto the roof on one side of Maple Leaf Street, running wildly towards the north.
Feng Qingyang and others arrived at this time, not knowing what was going on, and chased after them.
Fang Yunhan came to the end of Maple Leaf Street. He exerted force with one hand, and his five fingers almost sank into the city wall. After a few easy jumps, he brought the Black Magic King to the top of the city wall.
The officers and soldiers on the city wall were quite far away from here, and according to that set of rules, they could turn a blind eye to the fights between martial artists.
They were originally afraid of this master who could fight all the way and climb faster than eagles, falcons and monkeys, so they simply moved a little further away.
Fang Yunhan carried the Black Dharma King a few steps to the edge of the city wall, lifted the Black Dharma King in front of him, lowered his head slightly, and looked at each other.
"After you go down, give my regards to the elder who teaches the skills."
At this time, the Black King's mouth was constantly spitting blood foam, but he still replied with a few words in a low and weak voice.
"The leader will do this for me..."
Fang Yunhan heard it clearly, smiled without comment, and threw the Black Dharma King out.
The moment the Black King was in the air, he looked at the city wall getting farther and farther away from him and finally realized what was happening.
The human body's instinct made him reveal a look of fear as he was rapidly approaching death. His hand, as pale as a corpse's, reached upward in vain, but there was nowhere to hold on to.
The moment the body touches the ground, death strikes.
Fang Yunhan said that no killing would be allowed in the city today, so he threw the Black Dharma King to death outside the city.
But when the cruel blood flower spread out, the young man did not lower his head, but looked up at the sky.
There was a sound of fluttering clothes coming from behind. After Feng Qingyang and his friends climbed up the city wall, they gradually stopped.
Robert Kuok wanted to say something but was stopped by Mo Taichong.
The tranquility as the war is about to end should not be disturbed rashly.
In the morning, the sun sets into the city shortly after it rises. Now, the sun is gradually moving westward.
Fang Yunhan glanced at the sun and closed his eyes, but the scene in front of him was still illuminated by the orange-red sunlight.
If Feng Ma Niu had not rescued Zhao Dapeng that day, he would have surely died at the hands of the Black Magic King.
Fang Yunhan worked hard for the Beggars' Sect, but his motives were not pure. It was impossible to verify whether Fengma Niu saved him completely out of kindness that day, but he has repaid the favor today.
That day, a long howl was heard from the north gate.
The whistling sound was continuous and long, and it took almost half a quarter of an hour to stop.
All the martial artists on Maple Street and Ginkgo Street heard this voice.
Regardless of whether they were defeated in their recent attack or those who did not dare to move , they all understood the meaning of this long roar.
"You have used all your means, and I have already moved from south to north."
This round was indeed just a game, and he was the winner.
Wang Feihu drew out the golden knife from his waist with a complicated expression, looked at the old face reflected in the knife light, and after a while, turned to look at his old friends.
They all have similar expressions.
Ambition, pride and anger were all extinguished.
All the fame and glory I had enjoyed for most of my life has become a stepping stone today.
I feel completely disheartened.
But, after a long time, it seemed as if a new light was seen in the ashes.
That is more or less the most original and purest yearning for martial arts.
Wang Feihu carefully stroked the precious sword in his hand, which he had not practiced for two or three years. A complex expression gradually emerged on his face, showing a look of determination and yearning.
At this moment, many people in this city felt the scorching heat of the sun as it gradually moved toward the west, and their emotions were more or less similar to those of Wang Feihu.
Half a lifetime of glory was wasted.
But seeing those great masters passing by like a flash of lightning, leaving no trace in the sky, they left a mark in our hearts.
As warriors, even if we don't have gold, silver, prestige, or connections, we can still be powerful and free and easy just by relying on our martial arts!
Who doesn’t yearn for it?
