Myths Begin From Boys' Gong

"Perhaps, but I still stand by my judgment. Perhaps your ideas and approach aren't wrong, but you might not be able to pull it off. So, how about we take a gamble?"

Although Meng Zhao had only known Yan Congke for a short time, he had a deep understanding of the man, especially through the sword intent revealed by the sword marks on the thick wall, which went beyond the surface and pointed directly to the core.

This man was less a swordsman and more a gambler, a complete and utter gambler.

His so-called decisive sword, charging forward without hesitation, is in reality a gamble—either a resounding success or a crushing defeat.

He is currently at peace and has not yet encountered anyone who can break his sword, which can be considered a great achievement. However, good fortune will not always accompany him, and sooner or later he will encounter someone who will defeat him.

Given Yan Congke's temperament, I fear that the day he suffers defeat will be the day he dies.

Meng Zhao still felt sorry for this person's swordsmanship talent, so he wanted to take the initiative to free Yan Congke from the situation of either great success or great defeat.

He deliberately used the phrase "taking a gamble," believing that with Yan Congke's character, he would definitely accept the gamble and not back down.

Sure enough, upon hearing the word "bet," Yan Congke jumped for joy, his eyes gleaming like swords, his fighting spirit surging like boiling water.

"You want to make a bet with me? What are you betting on, and how?"

It's unclear when it started, but Yan Congke's life consisted of nothing but sword practice and gambling. The wins and losses on the card table and the numbers on the dice controlled his emotions, making him completely addicted and unable to extricate himself.

He possessed profound inner strength and exceptional eyesight, but he never used his martial arts skills to enhance his gambling skills. As a result, over the years, he had consistently lost more than he had won, and no amount of wealth was ever enough for him to squander.

If he hadn't been a ruthless lone wolf who earned money through hard work or extortion, he probably wouldn't have been able to afford even food.

During his time back in Kaiyan County, Yan Congke didn't go to the gambling dens. It wasn't that he had changed his ways, but rather that he didn't have much money on hand. He was only gambling a small amount at a time, so he wasn't enjoying himself.

Meng Zhao pondered for a moment, then said,

“I’m betting on you. If I win, from now on you will have to work for me. However, you are free to do whatever you want normally, but when I ask you to do something, you must do it wholeheartedly and not make excuses or do anything perfunctory.”

If I lose, that's easy too. Just tell me how much silver you value yourself for, and I'll give it to you.

"As for what to bet on, I don't gamble. So, if I'm going to fight you, I'll use the Soaring Sky Sword Technique to decide the winner."

Meng Zhao's words surprised Yan Congke, but also made him overjoyed.

On the gambling table, it's gambling; off the gambling table, it's still gambling—there's no difference.

He didn't care about this so-called bet; it was actually a sword contest, not a contest of gambling skills, but a contest of swordsmanship.

However, Yan Congke was even happier, because swordsmanship was his forte, which was clearly advantageous to him.

Having honed his swordsmanship for decades, he has long since integrated the way of the sword into his life. He is confident that his sword is no less powerful than anyone else's.

As for Meng Zhao, this young man...

He admitted that the opponent might be an unparalleled genius with extraordinary skills, capable of forming a protective aura around his body that was extremely strong and resilient, indestructible. However, this was a protective technique, not a swordsmanship.

As for the fact that the opponent could deduce the flaws and shortcomings in his swordsmanship from a wall of sword marks, that's not a big deal.

These days, there are too many people who are all talk and no action. Even though Yan Congke didn't know who Tianlong Wang Yuyan was, he had encountered some people who seemed to have a high level of skill but were actually terrible at fighting and were killed by him with a single sword strike.

Meng Zhao might not be that bad, but he's not necessarily much better either.

A sword is ultimately an inanimate object, but the person who wields it is its soul.

Meng Zhao is so young, how many years has he been practicing martial arts? And how many years has he been practicing swordsmanship?

Talent may represent the limit or upper limit, but it requires time to accumulate and realize. Otherwise, having potential is not enough; one's actual strength will be insufficient.

Therefore, Yan Congke was determined to win this bet, his fighting spirit was boiling, and his sword intent soared to the sky.

But there's one thing he needs to understand.

"I agree with everything else, but there's one thing: do you have any money?"

He knew, of course, that Meng Zhao had plenty of money, but not having plenty of money didn't mean he could afford to pay for Meng Zhao's gambling table.

At the very least, the self-important Yan Congke considers himself to be very valuable.

This expensive method is simply unaffordable for the average person.

"Of course, can you calculate how much silver you're worth?"

Meng Zhao's wealth came relatively easily and from a variety of sources.

His first pot of gold came from the Su family, but after leaving Kaiyan County, he went to other neighboring counties and amassed a lot of wealth there as well. As a result, he had a strong financial foundation. In terms of cash alone, some big families could not compare to him. The only thing he lacked was industry.

"What a bold move! Hmm, let me do the math. With my reputation, my swordsmanship, and the silver I've earned over the years, I have at least 100,000 taels of silver. So, can you come up with that?"

That's quite a boastful tone; what a greedy person.

One hundred thousand taels of silver—that amount of money, taken to the Star Palace, could hire assassins and killers to kill Yan Congke countless times.

However, whether it's 100,000 taels of silver or 1 million taels of silver, it's all the same number, and it doesn't matter whether Meng Zhao can come up with it or not.

Because he had never imagined he would lose, he readily agreed.

"Alright, one hundred thousand taels it is. However, this is a large sum of money, so I will pay with an equivalent amount of gold. Do you need to verify the funds?"

Yan Congke's eyes widened in disbelief, his previous air of expertise completely gone, as he was now completely captivated by the sum of money.

One hundred thousand taels of silver could sustain him for a long time, allowing him to gamble for just as long.

However, he wasn't a fool who believed everything the other person said.

It wasn't that no one could afford this sum of money; the key point was that it represented a demonstration of his personal value.

"If you really can produce this, how can I verify that you have the funds?"

"Of course, there is a lot of silver, but I have my own channels. As for the method of verification, it is very simple. You come with me to a place where there is plenty of gold, enough to pay you the equivalent of 100,000 taels of silver."

The joy on Yan Congke's face vanished instantly. He tightened his grip on the sword hilt, somewhat hesitant.

He considered himself a formidable figure, possessing both superb swordsmanship and exceptional agility, which was the source of his confidence in living a carefree life to this day.

However, his cautious nature also played a decisive role.

The person in front of him was someone he had only met for the first time, and who had even forced him to kill Chen Xiaodao. He was not trustworthy at all.

Moreover, his martial arts skills are superb and his power is immense. Purely in terms of martial arts, he may not be his opponent's match.

If he were to be tricked again and lured into a dangerous place full of traps, he wouldn't be able to use his skills and would be doomed. Therefore, after much hesitation, Yan Congke shook his head and said...

"Forget it, 100,000 taels of silver is too much. Let's make it 5,000 taels."

I'll wager five thousand taels. If you win, I'll do things for you, and I guarantee I'll do my best to satisfy you.

"If I win, just give me five thousand taels of silver. Surely there's no need to verify the funds!"

Yan Congke was never an easy person to talk to, simply because he and Meng Zhao shared almost the same ideas.

He never felt he would lose, so no matter how much silver he offered, it should be pure profit.

One hundred thousand taels is an enormous sum. He feared that even if he won, the other party might not be able to come up with it. If they couldn't, so be it; but if it caused any further conflict, it wouldn't be worth it.

After all, that one move of the Three-Part Returning Qi was enough to lay the foundation for Meng Zhao's strength. Such a powerful internal skill couldn't be too bad.

Yan Congke used to be fearless, but that doesn't mean he would necessarily offend some powerful people.

If he were truly a madman who didn't care about anything, with martial arts skills that weren't enough to dominate the world, he would have been killed long ago.

Five thousand taels would be just right. He believed that a master like the other party would not stoop to cheating for a mere five thousand taels.

Meng Zhao nodded, casually pulled a stack of silver notes from his pocket, and with a flick of his wrist, an invisible force lifted them into Yan Congke's hands.

"These are ten thousand taels of silver notes. They are from major banks that span across Daoxian County. Even if you leave Kaiyan County, you can still withdraw them in other places."

Yan Congke inspected it with obvious delight, and said with satisfaction,

"The money is no problem, so the bet is settled."

Although he was greedy, he still returned the silver notes to Meng Zhao and did not overstep his bounds in the slightest.

Randomly, he went back into the house, took out a longsword still in its sheath, and tossed it to Meng Zhao.
"This was a friend's weapon. Unfortunately, he died, so this sword remains in my possession as a memento."

Seeing that your hands are empty and you have no weapon, I will give you this sword for a duel. Are you willing?

Meng Zhao casually drew the long sword.

Under the cover of night, the sword was about three feet seven inches long and two fingers wide. The blade was plain and unadorned, as was the hilt. At first glance, it looked no different from the junk weapons forged in blacksmith shops.

However, Meng Zhao was no ordinary person. He lightly flicked his fingers on the sword and heard an extremely clear and melodious sword hum.

Close your eyes, and it's as if a mountain spring is splashing through the air, the sound of it hitting the rocks is delicate and has an indescribable harmonious charm.

"Good sword."

It is indeed a fine sword. This sword is the complete opposite of the longsword with gold and jade in Yan Congke's hands.

One is extreme simplicity, plainness, and minimalism. A sword is simply a sword, a murder weapon, and nothing more. The sword in Meng Zhao's hand is a true weapon among swords.

Correspondingly, Yan Congke's sword, though not bad, was adorned with gold and jade, making it too flashy. Its status as a collectible item outweighed its function as a murder weapon.

"It is a fine sword. Its name is Yaoquan. My friend used it throughout his life to kill and drink blood. It is a truly powerful weapon."

I hope you will make good use of this sword and not let it gather dust!

As he spoke, Yan Congke couldn't help but feel a little sentimental.

Birds of a feather flock together, and those who are on good terms with him are certainly not good people either.

The owner of the Yaoquan Sword was once a ruthless and vicious man. Relying on his martial arts skills, he was ruthless and ruthless, and roamed the land. Unfortunately, he eventually provoked a tough opponent and lost his life. If he hadn't arrived in time, even this sword would have become a trophy for others to boast about.

Who knows if one day in the future he will also die at the hands of some powerful person, just like his friend.

If that friend still has someone to collect his body and offer sacrifices, who will collect his body and mourn him if he dies in the future?
He didn't even have any hope for Chen Xiaodao if he was alive, let alone if he was dead.
Ignoring Yan Congke's complex emotions, Meng Zhao channeled his energy, and sword energy shot out like a shuttle, its sharp force enveloping the large courtyard like a peacock spreading its tail feathers. The ground was covered with countless tiny sword marks.

"I'm ready. Let's settle this with the Soaring Sky Sword. Are you ready?"

Meng Zhao's sword aura interrupted Yan Congke's melancholy mood, while Meng Zhao's words ignited his fighting spirit.

Yan Congke pointed his sword directly at Meng Zhao, just like his sword intent—unyielding and relentless.

"Alright, let's settle this with the Soaring Sky Sword, let's go!"

As soon as they met, a surge of powerful sword intent erupted from both of them, like two large trucks charging wildly toward each other.

The cracking sound echoed across the courtyard ground, revealing that the two men's sword intent was not merely sword intent, but also mixed with their own internal energy and aura, thus possessing initial lethality.

Yan Congke drew his sword. He had only been preparing for this strike for a very short time, but the memory he unleashed was so long and profound.

The Soaring Sword and the Azure Clouds.

This sword technique uses intention to control qi and qi to condense the sword. Although it is not the most powerful among the Chongxiao swords, it has the strongest sword intent and the most abundant sword qi.

It emphasizes progressing from the ordinary to the extraordinary, rising step by step, layer upon layer, with boundless sword power.

However, when Yan Congke unleashed it, it was in the most explosive and ferocious way, instantly raising the sword intent and sword energy to the peak, lacking the accumulated and inexhaustible charm.

This is his personal style.

Incorporating one's personal style into swordsmanship and the way of the sword is not bad; on the contrary, it is excellent.

Swords are inanimate, swordsmanship is inanimate, but people are alive.

The same sword technique, when used by different people, produces completely different results, which proves this point.

Yan Congke never compromised on swordsmanship, but instead studied it in depth to make it more suitable for himself.

In contrast, Meng Zhao did not actually use the original version of the Soaring Clouds Sword's Soaring Clouds technique.

His sword was steady, yet swift.

What appeared to be a single sword strike was actually thirty-six strikes delivered in an instant. The sword momentum was continuous and the sword intent was boundless. They piled up and accumulated, transforming into a thunderbolt. The pure sword energy, sword momentum, and sword intent merged into one, turning into a black dot that swallowed Yan Congke's sword.

Their swords clashed, the tips of their blades striking each other violently.

The next moment, it was like a volcanic eruption, with torrents gushing forth and powerful energy flying everywhere.

Meng Zhaowei remained unmoved, the black hole at the tip of his sword slowly expanding, while Yan Congke was struck as if by lightning, his entire body sent flying several meters away with a loud bang. Continuous sword energy surged within his body, causing a metallic taste to rise in his throat. (End of Chapter)