Wuxia: Become the 100-Victory Sword King at the Beginning

Zhao Banshan's face immediately showed a pained expression, his chubby body trembled, cold sweat poured down his back, and he squatted slightly.

No matter how good his martial arts are, how can he compare to Shi Feiyang, the leader of the Xiong Ying Society who was famous more than a hundred years ago?

"How dare you!" Everyone in the room stood up at the same time, and the sound of swords being drawn rose and fell.

Master Wuchen swung his one arm, his longsword drawing out a half-moon; Wen Tailai's palms generated a powerful wind, the force of which suppressed the candlelight, causing it to flicker uncertainly.

Zhou Weirou watched from outside, holding her breath, her soft whip already in her hand. But Shi Feiyang remained calm and composed, a faint silver mist rising around him.

"Heroes, hold on!" Shi Feiyang released Zhao Banshan's hand and then tossed out an object, which was the tiger-head token of the Xiong Ying Society.

The token spun in the air, refracting the candlelight into seven golden rays. "Although I come from Wudang, I have also received great kindness from the Xiong Ying Society. Now that the Qing court's henchmen are running rampant and the Red Flower Society is raising its voice, how can I stand idly by?"

Yu Wanting raised his hand to stop the crowd, his gaze falling on the bloodstains on the token: "The Xiong Ying Society was destroyed a hundred years ago, this token of yours..."

“When the nest is overturned, how can the eggs remain intact?” Shi Feiyang interrupted him, a cold glint flashing in his glassy eyes. “I intend to use the power of the Red Flower Society to reorganize the Xiong Ying Society. As far as I know, although the Red Flower Society is newly established, its ideas originated from the Xiong Ying Society, and its structure is also modeled after the Xiong Ying Society.”

The candlelight flickered in the room, casting dappled shadows on the wall as Shi Feiyang confronted the heroes of the Red Flower Society.

Zhou Weirou leaned against the carved beams and pillars, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the silver ornaments on the soft whip, her gaze fixed on Shi Feiyang's straight spine.

Memories surged like a tide. The fierce way that person used his palm to sever the blood droplets with silver threads on a snowy night a few days ago overlapped with his seemingly destitute beggar attire now, making it impossible to see through his true nature.

"Good lad! It's rare to see someone who can break my Tai Chi." Zhao Banshan rubbed his numb wrist, and the leather pouch at his waist clicked softly as twenty-four "Flying Swallow Silver Shuttles" gleamed with a cold, eerie blue light under the candlelight, before slowly disappearing into the pouch. "But words are not enough. Who exactly are you? Which gang or faction do you belong to?"

Before he could finish speaking, a powerful palm strike suddenly descended! The fourth leader, Wen Tailai, known as "Thunderbolt Hand," wielded palms with lightning speed, crimson lines appearing on his palms—the legendary martial art, "Thunderbolt Palm." Before the palm strike even arrived, all the teacups on the table shattered, the scalding tea turning into countless droplets that hovered in mid-air, refusing to fall.

Shi Feiyang remained calm and reached out to grab the bamboo broom from the corner of the door.

The bamboo branch swept across the blue brick floor, making a rustling sound, as if the Beggars' Sect's ultimate skill, the "Dog-Beating Stick Technique," had been unleashed! "Luring the dog into the stronghold!" The broom drew a strange arc, and Wen Tailai's fierce palm strike seemed to be pulled by an invisible rope, heading straight for Wan Ting's face.

"What a cunning 'lure' technique!" Master Wuchen wielded his longsword with his one arm, its cold light surging three feet. The sword's edge met the palm wind in an instant, and Shi Feiyang's broom spun rapidly, "The broom sweeps across the ground!" The broom head struck Wen Tailai's ankle, using the force to leap up, unleashing two moves in quick succession: "Slanting Strike on the Dog's Back" and "Shaking Head and Wagging Tail."

Wen Tailai's palm strike, like a runaway horse, crashed towards Zhao Banshan and the Chang brothers.

The heroes of the Red Flower Society all changed color at the same time!
Yu Wanting flipped backwards onto the roof beam with his toes touching the ground, his black brocade robe billowing like a sail; Zhao Banshan's Tai Chi palm strikes flew, weaving an impenetrable protective net in the air; the Chang brothers, Black and White Impermanence, with their robes fluttering, used the "Impermanence Soul-Splitting Claw," tearing the palm strike into three strands.

In an instant, palm strikes, sword strikes, and hidden weapon strikes filled the room, tables and chairs exploded, and wood chips flew like a torrential rain.

"Impressive skills!" Yu Wanting landed gracefully on the ground, his robes spotless, his eyes filled with admiration. "Which rank of disciple of the Beggars' Sect are you? At such a young age, you have mastered the Dog-Beating Staff Technique to such an extraordinary degree; you must be of considerable seniority."

Then, he clapped his hands and laughed loudly, his voice shaking the roof tiles, "If you don't mind, the Red Flower Society will be waiting for your arrival at any time."

Shi Feiyang gently tucked the bamboo broom back into the corner of the door. As he clasped his hands in a salute, his sleeve slipped down to reveal the black iron wrist guard on his wrist, echoing the token of the Xiong Ying Society: "I am but a wandering swordsman, and I am honored by the appreciation of you heroes."

He looked up at the myriad lights of Suzhou outside the window, his glassy eyes reflecting the twinkling stars. "But the world has suffered under the Qing for too long. I wonder if the Red Flower Society would be willing to join me in the great cause of overthrowing the Qing and restoring the Ming?"

Zhou Weirou watched him chat and laugh with ease, biting into a crab roe soup dumpling, oblivious to the delicious soup splashing onto her clothes.

She suddenly recalled Shi Feiyang's earlier words, "The martial world is like a game of chess," and now she realized that what seemed like a casual move by this man was actually a carefully orchestrated strategy. And this grand game that was stirring up the Qing court had probably only just begun.

Before Yu Wanting could finish speaking, a strange noise suddenly came from outside the door.

When everyone opened the door, they saw Zhou Weirou sitting upright on the porch, holding a plate of squirrel-shaped mandarin fish and eating it with relish.

"Hey everyone, please continue, don't mind me." She wiped her mouth and waved her chopsticks at Shi Feiyang. "Brother Xiang, this food is getting cold. If you don't eat it soon, you'll be wasting the restaurant's talent!"

The people in the room looked at each other in bewilderment, but Shi Feiyang laughed heartily, walked out of the room, returned to his seat, and casually grabbed a piece of fish: "Miss Zhou is right, no matter how big the matter is, it can't compare to the delicious food of Songhelou!"

Looking at Shi Feiyang, Zhou Weirou pondered to herself. How many secrets did this enigmatic man still hold? And was she about to be drawn into this turbulent vortex of the martial world?

Yu Wanting put down his teacup, the celadon porcelain striking the tabletop with a clear, melodious sound that broke the tense atmosphere in the room.

He gave Shi Feiyang a deep look and said in a deep voice, "We'll meet again someday."

With that, he flicked his sleeves and led the Red Flower Society members out in single file.

As the one-armed Taoist priest passed by Shi Feiyang, the Tai Chi double fish pattern on the hilt of his sword gently brushed against the hem of Shi Feiyang's clothes, as if it were a silent test.

However, it was instantly deflected by the hem of Shi Feiyang's clothes.

Master Wuchen was secretly astonished: What sect does this Xiang Tiange belong to? How can someone so young have such unfathomable skill?

Little did they know, Shi Feiyang was already two hundred years old!
However, thanks to the elixir of immortality from Xu Fu, the supreme bloodline of the Sunflower Saintess, and the Mingyu Gong, he will forever remain the handsome eighteen-year-old.

Zhou Weirou watched the departing crowd, poked at the sweet lotus root with osmanthus in her bowl with her chopsticks, and said casually, "The Red Flower Society has quite a grand affair. It's a pity that we didn't enjoy the good food and wine to our hearts' content." Before she finished speaking, the sound of bamboo clappers suddenly came from downstairs, a chaotic yet rhythmic sound.

Shi Feiyang lightly lifted the trembling pork knuckle with his bamboo chopsticks and placed it into Zhou Weirou's bowl. The amber skin, coated in a thick sauce, glistened enticingly in the candlelight. A half-smile played on his lips, and his sleeve slipped down, revealing a faint strand of silver on his wrist. "Don't rush," he said, "this show isn't over yet." Before he finished speaking, dragging footsteps echoed down the stairs, mingled with the rhythmic tapping of bamboo clappers—the distinctive walking style of the Beggars' Sect disciples.

The carved wooden door creaked as it was slammed open, and more than twenty beggars swarmed inside.

The leading old beggar had a single, eagle-like eye, its cloudy pupil revealing shrewdness. Unmelted snowflakes still clung to the straw rope of his wine gourd, dripping with each movement. His dog-beating stick slammed heavily on the blue brick floor, causing the dishes on the table to clatter. "Good lad! Making such a commotion at Songhe Tower, do you think our Beggars' Sect is deaf?" In the corner, a young beggar clutched a chipped ceramic bowl, his eyes fixed on the glistening braised pork on the plate, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Shi Feiyang slowly wiped the corner of his mouth, slammed the silver ingot on the table with a clang, and the candlelight made the two characters "足纹" (footprint) on the ingot shine brightly: "Elder Peng is joking. It's just to teach a few snobbish people a lesson."

As he pushed the silver ingot over, he deliberately showed the calluses on his palms, saying, "If you brothers don't mind, this meal is on me."

The old beggar narrowed his single eye to slits, his withered fingers tossing and weighing silver ingots. Suddenly, he roared, his Dog-Beating Stick flashing out like a venomous snake! Iron teeth grazed past Shi Feiyang's ear, the gust of wind whipping up his bangs: "When did the Wudang Sect produce someone like you? All talk and no action, you're even better at talking than a beggar! You look more like a lackey of the Qing court!"

"Crack!" The bamboo chopsticks in Zhou Weirou's hand snapped in response, and a soft whip had already wrapped around her wrist from under her wide sleeves.

She leaned against the carved window, seemingly casually biting into a crab roe soup dumpling, but secretly gathering her strength, oblivious to the soup splashing onto her clothes. The atmosphere in the room froze instantly; the young beggars gripped their dog-beating sticks tightly, their knuckles turning white.

Shi Feiyang remained as steady as a mountain, a hint of sorrowful reminiscence flashing in his glassy eyes.

He suddenly took a half step forward, and with a flick of his palms, he actually performed the authentic "Trip Dog and Capture Monkey" move!
The palm strike sent tiny pebbles flying across the blue brick floor, a testament to the Beggars' Clan's long-lost signature technique: "Elder Peng, have you ever seen a Qing Dynasty lackey who knows the Dog-Beating Stick Technique? I am the future leader of the Beggars' Clan. If you don't believe me, ask the old leader."

These words struck like a thunderbolt. The old beggar's gourd fell to the ground with a thud, the wine trickling into a river between the blue bricks: "Those bastards from the Sticky Pole Office!"

He spat fiercely, his one eye bloodshot. "Back then, during our attack on our headquarters, our leader was unfortunately killed and has been missing for a long time..." His words trailed off as the old beggar suddenly approached. "Boy, what do you want? Where is our leader? Speak!"

Shi Feiyang walked to the window with his hands behind his back, gazing at the streets and alleys below where lanterns flickered like fireflies.

The cold wind swirled snowflakes against the windowpane, making his glassy skin gleam with a cold light: "In a one-on-one fight, none of us are a match for the Sticky Pole Bureau."

He turned around abruptly, his eyes gleaming, "But if the Beggars' Sect, the Red Flower Society, and all the heroes of the martial world join forces..."

"What arrogance!" The old beggar suddenly threw his head back and laughed, his missing front tooth escaping through his mouth. "But... you'd better help us find the gang leader first. Otherwise, how can we possibly trust you?"

He glanced at the table full of delicacies with his one eye. "For the sake of this fine food and wine, I can pass on a message for you. In the future, when you are empty-handed and without any proof, the Red Flower Hero will not spare you either." He slammed the tattered token on the table; the character "beggar" was worn down to just half a corner.

Shi Feiyang solemnly accepted the gift, deliberately revealing the scar on his hand as he clasped his hands in thanks: "Thank you, Elder Peng!" He turned to look at Zhou Weirou, his glassy eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight: "Miss Zhou, it seems that the nightlife in Suzhou is just beginning."

Zhou Weirou popped the last piece of sweet osmanthus lotus root into her mouth, the sugar strands stretching out long.

As she rose, her wide sleeves fluttered, and a bone-piercing nail silently sank into a pillar, leaving a faint white spot: "Don't treat me like a three-year-old. But I'd like to see what you're really up to."

As night deepened, the lanterns outside Songhe Tower swayed in the cold wind.

As Shi Feiyang watched the beggars' retreating figures, the silver threads in his palm quietly shrank back into his sleeve.

Zhou Weirou suddenly approached, her body emanating a scent of orchids mixed with the stench of blood: "You knew all along that the Red Flower Society had connections with the Beggars' Sect, didn't you?"

Shi Feiyang gazed at the city lights, a smile playing on his glassy eyes: "Miss Zhou is indeed clever. This martial world is like a grand game of chess; to survive, one must always make a few clever moves." His smile suddenly vanished, his expression turning serious. "However, the most important thing now is to find the Beggar Clan leader, alive or dead! Otherwise, I'll be in deep trouble no matter what."

"You've always been a murky person." Zhou Weirou sneered, her wide sleeves sweeping across the table, scattering bits of food. "I'm leaving, thank you for the good food!" As she turned, her skirt swept across the snow on the threshold, leaving a trail of messy footprints.

Shi Feiyang stared at her retreating figure, standing for a long time in the cold wind, until that moon-white figure completely disappeared into the depths of the street.

In early spring, Suzhou was covered with a thin layer of snow, and icicles hung from the eaves like swords, shattering the moonlight into tiny silver stars.

Shi Feiyang stepped across the bluestone pavement, his boots crunching on the thin ice with a crisp "crack". The lanterns along the street swayed in the night wind, casting flickering light on the wanted poster of Ejido's aged face – the wrinkled portrait was a stark contrast to his handsome eighteen-year-old appearance. Who would have thought that this "notorious bandit" was standing under a wanted poster?

Shi Feiyang gazed in the direction of the former site of the vast Shi Mansion. Snow covered the ruins, and the outlines of the once grand mansions could still be vaguely seen.

Suddenly, I heard the soft rustling of snowflakes behind me, and I found myself holding a bamboo broom at the street corner.

As they turned their heads, two dark figures drifted down from the top of the wall like ghosts. The two Chang brothers, dressed in black and white, stood out conspicuously in the snowy night, and the chill emanating from them froze the falling snowflakes into frost.

"Kid, it's time to settle the score from today!" Chang Hezhi roared, his figure turning into a black afterimage.

His "Black Impermanence Soul-Hooking Claw" tore through the air, the cold light at his fingertips carrying the eerie blue hue unique to the deadly poisons of the Western Regions.

Shi Feiyang neither dodged nor avoided, but reached out and grabbed a bamboo broom from the street corner. Suddenly, he raised it, and the move "Beating Two Dogs with a Stick" contained the essence of the Dog-Beating Stick Technique. The bamboo stick wrapped around the opponent's wrist as if it were a living thing.

With a sharp "crack," Chang Hezhi's wrist bone was nearly crushed, startling him into quickly retreating.

Upon seeing this, Chang Bozhi's palm emitted a strange white light, and he unleashed the "White Impermanence Life-Taking Palm" with a subtle, yin-like power.

Shi Feiyang lightly touched the ground with his toes, like a startled swan in the snow, and used the "dog-raising-the-sky" staff technique to direct the palm force to the ground.

With a loud "boom," the blue brick ground shattered, and the snow instantly evaporated into white mist wherever the palm force touched.

The two heroes exchanged a glance and launched their attacks with perfect coordination. Chang Hezhi's "Black Wind Leg" stirred up a cloud of snow dust, his leg shadow dancing like a venomous snake; Chang Bozhi's "White Shadow Shuttle" circled behind Shi Feiyang, his "Deadly Consecutive Palms" bringing waves of chilling cold.

Shi Feiyang sneered, switching from the Dog-Beating Stick Technique to the "Poke" Technique. The bamboo broom spun rapidly like a wheel, unleashing the move "A cornered dog jumps over the wall," transforming the bamboo branch into thousands of silver needles that aimed directly at the vital points of the two heroes' bodies.

Instead of retreating, Chang Bozhi advanced, unleashing the "Heaven and Earth United" technique with both palms.

The black and white internal forces coiled like two giant dragons, and wherever they passed, the snow froze into ice, and the ground cracked with spiderweb-like patterns.

A cold glint flashed in Shi Feiyang's eyes, and he suddenly unleashed the "Sichuan Dog Barking at the Sun" staff technique. The bamboo broom burst forth with fierce energy, forcefully dispersing the inner strength of the two heroes. The two immense forces collided, and the shockwaves blew up the snow piled up on the street, forming a snow curtain in the night sky.

The two heroes' expressions changed drastically, and they simultaneously formed hand seals, unleashing the "Black and White Impermanence Soul-Locking Array".

In an instant, black and white energy swirled in the snow, forming a huge vortex that lifted up stone slabs wherever it passed.

Shi Feiyang's body shone with a brilliant silver light as he unleashed the full power of his Heavenly Silkworm Skill, employing the "Heavenly Silkworm Binding Dragon" technique. Countless silver threads, like serpents emerging from their holes, instantly wrapped around the waists of the two brothers. As the silver threads tightened, the Chang brothers were unable to move, their faces filled with terror.

"You little brat! I underestimated you!" Chang Hezhi's veins bulged as he struggled fiercely.

Shi Feiyang stood proudly, holding a bamboo broom, his glassy eyes gleaming in the snow: "You lot are not good enough!"

Having said that, he swept the broom out horizontally, and the "chasing dogs in a poor alley" stick technique carried the force of thunder, knocking the two heroes back several feet.

The Chang brothers crashed into a stone pillar on the side of the street, each spitting out a mouthful of blood, which splattered onto the white snow like blooming red plum blossoms.

Zhou Weirou hid in the shadows, her hand already gripping the soft whip, but she never made a move.

She gazed at Shi Feiyang's figure standing amidst the snow, and secretly marveled.

The members of the Red Flower Society and Elder Peng of the Beggars' Sect, hiding on the rooftop, witnessed this thrilling battle and were all dumbfounded—who could have imagined that "Xiang Tiange" could force the Chang brothers to such a state with an ordinary bamboo broom?

Chang Hezhi and Chang Bozhi exchanged a glance, then clasped their hands in a fist salute: "Xiang Tiange, your martial arts are superb, and we brothers are truly humbled! But who exactly are you? We hope you can prove your innocence!"

Shi Feiyang nodded slightly, flicked his fingertips, and the silkworm silk wrapped around the two heroes snapped.

He threw away the broom, turned around and left with his hands behind his back. Knowing that someone was following him, he suddenly leaped into the air and used the unparalleled lightness skill "Leaving No Trace for a Thousand Miles" to arrive at the shore of Taihu Lake.

After the snow cleared, the misty waves of Taihu Lake shimmered with a deep blue hue under the moonlight.

Shi Feiyang lightly touched the reeds with his toes, his "Leaving No Trace for a Thousand Miles" lightness skill shattering the thin ice on the water's surface, startling a flock of egrets. He lowered his gaze to his left hand, where the Divine Dragon Pagoda on his ring suddenly shone with golden light. The pagoda's doors slowly opened, and amidst the swirling mist, a magnificent pavilion with carved beams and painted rafters appeared and disappeared. "Young Master!" A lark's voice, tinged with tears, pierced through the corridor. She walked barefoot across the warm, jade-green floor, her flowing sleeves scattering shimmering light, jasmine blossoms in her hair glistening with night dew. "How did you get covered in wounds again?"

Before he could finish speaking, Bi Yan'er rushed over with a golden silk robe in her arms, her jade hands trembling as she touched the bloodstain on his shoulder. "This wound is still bleeding. Those villains must have done something ruthless!" Before Shi Feiyang could speak, he was half-embraced and half-supported by the two fairies and led into the hot spring pool.

In the rising steam, Bi Yan'er loosened her hair, letting her long, black hair cascade down to the water's surface. With spiritual energy gathered at her fingertips, she gently combed through his blood-stained hair: "Young master, do you know that every time you go out, our hearts are in our throats?"

The lark poured the prepared spiritual spring water into the pool, and the petals scattered with the ripples. "Yesterday, Sister Biyan stayed up all night guarding the medicine furnace to refine a healing pill for you."

The misty steam blurred his vision. Looking into two pairs of eyes filled with concern, Shi Feiyang suddenly felt a tightness in his throat.

After bathing, the lark braided her dried hair into a jade knot, with pearls hanging from the ends swaying gently with her movements.

Bi Yan'er held up a newly made moon-white robe, the hem embroidered with silver-threaded clouds, the stitches so fine they were invisible: "This fabric has been soaked in the juice of Tianshan snow lotus, which can protect you from swords and spears."

The two women tied his belt from either side, their jasmine scent in his hair mingling with the orchid fragrance from his sleeves, enveloping Shi Feiyang in a gentle aroma.

The luminous pearl in the library illuminated the walls as if it were daytime. As Shi Feiyang was flipping through the incomplete scroll of "The Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms", the lark knelt on the soft cushion, holding candied fruit and pastries: "Young master, take a rest and try this newly made plum blossom pastry."

Bi Yan'er held up a teacup with a few snow lotus seeds floating on the surface of the tea: "This tea is very calming. Young master didn't sleep a wink last night, so please have a few more cups."

Shi Feiyang put down the ancient book and gently pulled the two girls into his arms: "Silly girls, if I don't become stronger, how can I protect you both?"

Biyan'er stopped crying and smiled, leaning on his shoulder.

Outside the window, morning mist drifted over the jade pavilion, and the lark and Biyan'er remained by Shi Feiyang's side.

One ground the ink for him, the other fanned him, and when they occasionally glanced at each other, their eyes were filled with undisguised deep affection.

As the first ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds and shone on the bamboo slips of the "Dog-Beating Stick Technique," Shi Feiyang gripped the bamboo joint tightly in his hand—he not only wanted to become the leader of the Beggars' Sect, but also to ensure that these two fairies, whose hearts were filled with love for him, would live in peace and happiness forever.

Suddenly, the cries and roars of the Vermilion Bird and the White Tiger could be heard.

Nine-colored glass lamps hung from the dome of the Divine Dragon Pagoda, illuminating the Sutra Repository like a fairyland.

The bamboo section in Shi Feiyang's hand fell to the ground with a clang, shattering the silence.

He broke free from the entwined arms of the lark and Biyan'er, staggering through the winding corridor. Jade slips, brushed aside by his robes, splashed crisply on the blue bricks. Turning past the triple moon gate, a wave of heat suddenly washed over him. The Vermilion Bird and White Tiger perched atop a dragon-carved pillar, their crimson feathers and silver stripes shimmering, painting the entire hall a dreamlike scene of blood and frost.

The white tiger was the first to notice the disturbance. Its earth-shaking roar made the copper bells on the eaves of the tower ring. It pounced on the starlight-strewn ground, but its front paws suddenly stopped when they touched Shi Feiyang's clothes. Its warm breath sprayed on the back of his hand, and its amber pupils surged with monstrous waves.

"You..." Shi Feiyang choked up, reaching out to touch the old wound on the white tiger's neck—a scar left by the auspicious beast during the battle of Black Wind Stronghold when it protected him from the demonic beasts. The white tiger whimpered softly, burying its massive head in his chest, its whiskers trembling slightly, and glistening water droplets fell onto his clothes, spreading into dark stains.

The Vermilion Bird's long cry was like tearing silk, and its crimson wings spread out, bringing with them a sky full of fiery streaks.

It circled three times before folding its wings and landing. Its phoenix eyes were filled with shimmering water, and its crimson beak gently clung to Shi Feiyang's sleeve, shaking it as if both angry and resentful.

Shi Feiyang trembled as he embraced the fiery red body of the Vermilion Bird. The warmth from his palm overlapped with the touch from the depths of his memory—the Vermilion Bird's feathers had been just as hot when Gong Simeng entrusted the pair of auspicious beasts to him that Lantern Festival.

"So you're still here..." Shi Feiyang murmured to himself, tears falling onto the Vermilion Bird's crest and turning into rising white mist. The White Tiger nuzzled his waist with its head, letting out a whimper like a cub; the Vermilion Bird gently patted his back with its wings, the golden spots on its tail feathers flickering in the tearful light.

A century has passed, and though the auspicious beast cannot speak, the affection in its eyes is more fervent than any vow.

The lark and Biyan stood far off under the eaves, watching Shi Feiyang surrounded by auspicious beasts, and suddenly recalled his lonely appearance, always drinking alone under the moonlight. At this moment, his shoulders trembled slightly, and his suppressed sobs, mixed with the low cries of the Vermilion Bird and the whimpers of the White Tiger, echoed for a long time in the Divine Dragon Pagoda.

In the glow of the glass lamp, two tiger tears and a few wisps of Vermilion Bird feathers quietly brewed the joy of reunion and the longing of years into the most intense sorrow of the martial world. A moment later, Shi Feiyang put the Vermilion Bird and the White Tiger into a deerskin pouch hidden from ordinary people at his waist.

As the Vermilion Bird and the White Tiger transformed into streams of light and disappeared into the deerskin bag, Shi Feiyang gently stroked the embroidered cherry blossom totem on the bag's surface.

This treasure bag, made from the hide of a thousand-year-old black deer, is invisible to mortals, yet it can hold all the treasures of heaven and earth. He leaned against the sandalwood couch, listening to the lark and Biyan'er talking softly in the corridor outside the window, but his thoughts had already drifted to the snowy and cold road outside Suzhou.

As the water clock ticked, he suddenly sat up, a silver glint appearing in his palm. As he circulated his Heavenly Silkworm Skill, the moves of the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms rapidly flowed through his mind. He raised his hand and swept it lightly; the palm wind swept across the table, and the ink in the inkstone condensed into ice crystals, hovering in mid-air and outlining the phantom of a giant dragon.

The thirty-six moves of the Dog-Beating Stick Technique also appeared, with bamboo joints seemingly touching the air, and the trajectory of the Big Dipper faintly appearing on the blue brick ground. "To find the old gang leader, martial arts alone are not enough."

Shi Feiyang gazed at his resolute face in the bronze mirror, his glassy eyes gleaming with a cold, star-like light.

He recalled what he had seen in Suzhou during the day: the old beggar's toes, purple with cold; the little beggar's sunken cheeks from hunger; and the expectation that flashed in Elder Peng's cloudy eyes when he spoke of the gang leader. These images struck his heart like a heavy hammer, making him grip the dog-beating stick at his waist tightly.

As night deepened, the howls of wolves echoed from outside the barrier of the Divine Dragon Pagoda.

Shi Feiyang closed his eyes to rest, his breathing steady as a bell.

He knew that tomorrow he would face not only the spies of the Sticky Rod Office and the agents of the martial arts world, but also the deeply entrenched forces within the Beggars' Sect.

But at this moment, he had already mastered the Mingyu Gong, Tiancan Gong, Baisheng Daofa, Qimen Sancai Daofa, as well as the fierceness of the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms and the strangeness of the Dog Beating Stick Technique. The Vermilion Bird and White Tiger in the deerskin bag could be transformed into weapons to defeat enemies at any time.

"Overthrowing the Qing and restoring the Ming is not something that can be accomplished in a day." Shi Feiyang murmured to himself, his fingers unconsciously stroking the Xiong Ying Society token on the bedside table. "But with this Dog-Beating Stick and thousands of Beggar Clan brothers, even in the most dangerous places, we will carve out a bloody path!"

Outside the window, the morning star gradually brightened. Shi Feiyang got up and put on his clothes. The deerskin bag at his waist was slightly warm—that was because the Vermilion Bird and White Tiger sensed their master's fighting spirit and were poised to strike.

Before the morning mist had completely dissipated in Suzhou, Shi Feiyang had already disguised himself as a porter and mingled at the Changmen Wharf.

His coarse cloth shirt was soaked with sweat, but the dull pain from the carrying pole pressing on his shoulders was nothing compared to the anxiety in his heart.

For the past six months, Shi Feiyang has disguised himself as a porter every day, only by infiltrating the martial arts world can he find out about the disappearance of the Beggar Clan leader.

The well-informed Zhou Weirou mingled in the crowd, watching Shi Feiyang, whose acting skills were not very good, and often let out a cold chuckle. Yesterday, outside a dilapidated kiln where beggars gathered, Shi Feiyang found half a bloodstained jade pendant, the hidden pattern of which was seven-tenths similar to the pattern on the token of the Beggar Clan elder.

"Young man, would you like a bowl of herbal tea?" At the street corner tea stall, the old doctor called out to him, ringing a copper bell. The man had white hair and a youthful face. The four characters "Hanging a gourd to save the world" on his medicine box had been worn blurred by time. Only the nine-section whip tied around his waist revealed something unusual.

Shi Feiyang caught a glimpse of him as he prepared medicine for the dockworkers, and the technique he used to insert three silver needles into acupoints was the long-lost "Midnight-Noon Flow Acupuncture Method".

"Thank you for your help, sir." Shi Feiyang pushed the copper bowl over, taking the opportunity to lower his voice, "Do you know if anything strange has happened at the City God Temple in the west of the city lately?"

The old doctor's hand trembled, spilling some of his herbal tea: "Young man, don't ask such questions about that place."

Before he could finish speaking, a group of guards from the Sticky Pole Bureau rode past on horseback, the shockwave from their black cloaks overturning the medicine chest.

Shi Feiyang reacted quickly and helped the old man up, his fingertips touching the gold-threaded soft armor hidden in the old man's sleeve.

The old doctor sighed: "I was originally a doctor abandoned by the Imperial Medical Academy, and was expelled from the capital for refusing to use live people for drug trials."

He pulled a yellowed blueprint from the bottom of the medicine jar. "Three days ago, I saw several officials escorting an iron cage into the temple. The lotus pattern on the chains was exactly what the imperial court used." Shi Feiyang nodded, picked up his load, and headed towards the South City Academy.

The oil lamps at Chengnan Academy remained lit all night.

Chen Mo, a down-on-his-luck scholar who had already become good friends with Shi Feiyang, slammed the "Gusu Prefecture Gazetteer" heavily onto the table, causing the candlelight to flicker: "In the winter of the third year of Yongzheng's reign, the seventy-two water fortresses suddenly changed their course, clearly to avoid the western direction of the city!"

He pushed up his crooked glasses, his gaze behind the lenses sharp as a hawk's. "I once wrote for the Vice Minister of Rites and know that the 'Purification Project' is hidden in the imperial archives. I'm afraid it's inextricably linked to the disappearance of the Beggar Clan leader."

The outlaw "Black Wind Leopard" Li Yao tore open his wine flask and took a swig of strong liquor, snowflakes clinging to his bushy beard: "I robbed a grain transport ship, and those boxes weren't filled with grain at all, but..."

He lowered his voice, “A living person wrapped in black cloth!” In the moonlight, he showed the claw marks on his arm, “The guards guarding the box used the dismemberment technique of the Tartars from beyond the Great Wall.” Shi Feiyang placed the jade pendant, the blueprint, and the claw marks on the altar of the dilapidated temple, his glassy eyes gleaming coldly in the candlelight.

The old doctor Yao Su drew arcs on the acupuncture point chart with his silver needles, the scholar Chen Mo marked the canal transport route on the map with cinnabar, and Li Yao carved wooden blocks with his steel knife to simulate the structure of a prison cage.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds, they finally pieced together the truth—there was a secret passage hidden beneath the City God Temple that led directly to the vast ruins of the Stone Palace!
“Count me in!” Zhou Weirou suddenly jumped down from the beam, sweeping the dust off the table with her wide sleeves. “The spies from the 72 Water Fortresses of Taihu Lake have sent word that a black sedan chair carried by eight men entered the west of the city three days ago.”

Zhou Weirou swayed the jade pendant at her waist, her eyes sparkling with charm, and teased, "But the reward will have to be doubled."

Looking at the crowd before him, Shi Feiyang felt a pang of sadness. The former glory of the Xiong Ying Society seemed like a fleeting cloud. He took out several large silver ingots from the mysterious deerskin bag at his waist, each ingot weighing fifty taels, and distributed them to everyone present. He said in a deep voice, "Take these first. There will be a generous reward once the matter is settled."

The crowd accepted the money, their faces beaming with joy, and the atmosphere eased for a moment.

Shi Feiyang's gaze was deep as he slowly said, "Perhaps the missing leaders of the 72 Water Villages of Taihu Lake are also in that dungeon."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Weirou's beautiful eyes widened in surprise, and she exclaimed, "What? Really?"

Shi Feiyang smiled and said, "If all those chieftains were here, I wouldn't mind not taking your reward. Would you be willing to join me in navigating this murky water?" Everyone was shocked upon hearing this, and then burst into laughter. Zhou Weirou's pretty face flushed red, and she glared at Shi Feiyang reproachfully.

It was midnight. A cold wind howled in the west of Suzhou, and snowflakes lashed against the broken walls and ruins like knives.

Shi Feiyang clutched the tattered token given to him by Elder Peng and stepped into the abandoned City God Temple.

Moonlight streamed through the collapsed eaves, scattering across the scattered remains of incense and candles. Spiderwebs trembled gently among the beams and pillars, as if telling tales of the past.

"They've arrived?" Elder Peng's hoarse voice came from the shadows, his single eye gleaming eerily in the darkness.

Beside Elder Peng, more than twenty beggars stood on both sides, their dog-beating sticks pointing diagonally at the ground, exuding a stern aura.

Shi Feiyang clasped his hands in a fist salute and explained the rescue plan for tonight to Elder Peng: "As far as I know, the imprisoned martial arts practitioners may not only include the Beggar Clan leader, but also other heroes. We must proceed with caution."

Elder Peng narrowed his one eye and said in a deep voice, "Now that we're here, we'll fight to the death, let's risk it all!"

The group proceeded along the secret passage of the City God Temple. The passage was dark, damp, and filled with a putrid smell.

Shi Feiyang walked at the front, his Heavenly Silkworm Skill quietly circulating, keenly sensing the movements around him.

The secret passage was winding and full of traps and mechanisms. Shi Feiyang skillfully avoided them, relying on his knowledge of the house from his previous life.

Finally, the group arrived at the dungeon of the vast stone mansion. The sound of dragging chains came from inside the dungeon, and a disheveled figure slowly emerged from the shadows. His patchwork clothes were riddled with holes, and the iron shackles around his ankles were rusty.

Upon seeing this, Elder Peng dropped his wine gourd with a clatter, tears welled in his cloudy single eye, and he said in a trembling voice, "Chief?!"

The candlelight flickered inside the dungeon, and the stench of sulfur mixed with blood filled the air.

Zhou Weirou stared at the hunched figure, the soft whip in her hand clattering to the ground.

Her usually sharp eyes instantly welled up with tears. Her embroidered shoes stepped over the pebbles, and she rushed into the dust in three quick steps: "Father!"

The clanging of the chains sent shivers down one's spine.

The old man with a full beard slowly raised his head, a look of disbelief flashing in his cloudy eyes.

He tried to reach out and hug his daughter, but the heavy shackles pulled him back.

Upon seeing this, Zhou Weirou burst into tears. She reached out to untie the iron chain on her father's wrist, but she didn't even notice that her fingertips were cut by the rust.

"Rou'er!" The old man's voice was hoarse like a broken gong, filled with indescribable guilt. "It's my fault for being useless and making you suffer!" His tattered clothes were almost torn to shreds, and his exposed skin was covered with whip marks and scars from branding irons.

Zhou Weirou suddenly buried her face in her father's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably: "I thought I would never see you again..."

Elder Peng, standing to the side, wiped his one eye and handed over the wine gourd: "Old Chief, have a drink to warm yourself up! These scoundrels really went too far!"

His voice was filled with suppressed anger, and he slammed the dog-beating stick heavily on the ground, making the blue bricks rustle.

Shi Feiyang silently activated his Heavenly Silkworm Skill, and silver threads, like nimble snakes, probed into the gaps in the shackles. With a few crisp "clicks," the rusty chains snapped. "What superb skill!" The old chieftain, gazing into Shi Feiyang's glassy eyes, suddenly clasped his hands in a salute. "Thank you so much for saving my life, young hero! If it weren't for you..." His voice choked, and he turned to look at the other chieftains of the Seventy-Two Water Villages of Taihu Lake who had also been rescued.

These heroes, who were usually so imposing, were now disheveled and dirty, some even limping or missing an arm.

Zhou Weirou took off her cloak and gently draped it over her father, but his rough hands pressed it down: "Don't get your clothes dirty."

Looking at his daughter's swollen eyes, the old chieftain's aged hand trembled as he tried to wipe away her tears, but in the end he could only sigh, "I've been waiting day and night in prison, hoping that you can grow up safely..."

"Father!" Zhou Weirou suddenly hugged her father, her voice filled with years of grievance, "Your daughter has searched for you so hard!" She recalled the days she had spent wandering the world alone, how many times she had woken up from nightmares, thinking she would never see her father again.

The real body temperature seeping through her torn clothes confirmed that this wasn't a dream. (End of Chapter)