The Smiling, Proud Wanderer: From the Moment He Picked Up Qu Feiyan

Chapter 114 Junior Brother, you should put Mount Song on your shoulder.

Shen An carried Shi Dengda on his back and walked step by step toward the dock.

Stendhal was a burly man, quite heavy, and with his broken leg, most of his weight was on Shen An's shoulders.

But Shen An's steps were steady, and his breathing was light, as if the person on his back was as light as a feather.

After walking for an unknown amount of time, Stefan suddenly let out a long sigh. In that sigh, there was weariness, resentment, but even more so, a sense of relief.

"Junior brother, your martial arts surpass mine, your methods surpass mine, and even your ability to manage businesses is far beyond my reach. I admit defeat today. I'm afraid that having you inherit the Songshan Sect would be a better outcome than having me do it."

Dude, do you really think the Songshan Sect is yours for the taking?

Shen An didn't pause in his steps: "What do you want to say?"

"I want to say that you really shouldn't have any connections with the members of the Demonic Cult," Stendhal's voice deepened, "even if it's just a pretense."

He paused, as if lost in some painful memory.

Do you still remember Uncle-Master Sun?

"That's true. You were in Hengyang at the time, so you probably didn't know."

"Two years ago, he was ambushed by the Demonic Sect on the main road of Zhengzhou." Stendhal's voice trembled, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth. "When his sect found him, both his hands and feet had been severed, and his eyes had been gouged out; he was a bloody, mangled human pig!" That demonic sect member had spared his life, just to torment him further!

"Even after his sect brought him back, Uncle Sun only lasted three months before succumbing to his illness. Until his last breath, he was still shouting: 'The Demonic Sect harmed me! I must avenge them! The Demonic Sect harmed me! I must avenge them!'"

"The demonic cultists are our mortal enemies! They must be eradicated!"

He practically roared out the last four words, his chest heaving violently, which aggravated the wound on his leg, causing him to gasp in pain.

Shen An fell silent.

Although he had not witnessed his uncle Sun's tragic condition firsthand, he had heard about it.

Mount Song should indeed fight the Demonic Sect to the death, killing them one by one until one of its lineages is extinguished.

But—thinking of the original story, in the end Ren Woxing led at least twenty or thirty thousand people to besiege Mount Hua—

The task of eliminating the evil cult is not really the responsibility of the Songshan Sect; it should be handled by the Ming Dynasty's border troops.

After a long silence, he finally spoke slowly: "Senior brother, do you know how powerful the Sun Moon Sect is now?"

Stendhal was taken aback.

"Let me tell you, even if our master were to successfully unify the Five Sacred Mountains and integrate all their forces, he would still be far from being a match for the Demonic Sect. To confront them head-on would be tantamount to throwing an egg against a rock."

"Nonsense!" Stendhal retorted decisively. "I know that Dongfang Bubai is the best in the world, but he is ultimately just one person! When we gather the righteous path, the Five Mountains Sword Sects, along with the Shaolin and Wudang sects, and attack Blackwood Cliff together, how can he possibly be undefeated?"

"It's all because of Dongfang Bubai!" Shen An's voice suddenly rose a few decibels. "It's all because of him that we've reached this stalemate with the Demonic Sect! Senior brother, knowing yourself and your enemy is the key to victory in every battle. In the past three years I've been away, I've gathered a lot of intelligence about the Demonic Sect."

"Since taking over, Dongfang Bubai has been obsessed with martial arts and has almost never stepped out of Blackwood Cliff, nor has he paid any attention to sect affairs. If it weren't for this, the martial world would have been awash in blood long ago, and our Five Mountains Sword Sect would probably not even have a chance to catch its breath."

"If we can't win, does that mean we should just give up?" he asked stubbornly.

"Fight, of course we must fight," Shen An said, then stated the conclusion he had reached after thinking about it these past few days, "but the battle against the Demonic Sect will be a long and protracted process, and we must not seek a quick victory. A quick victory is a quick defeat; they are two sides of the same coin."

"In this process, we must try our best to unite all those who can be united and divide all those who can be divided. The two old men from the Yellow River, although their actions were both righteous and wicked, judging from their words and deeds, their nature is not bad and they are not people who take pleasure in doing evil. Such people are still worth winning over."

"I would kill people like the Twin Bears of the Northern Desert on sight, without uttering a single word."

Stendar lay on Shen An's broad back, remaining silent for a long time.

"—I can't argue with you." After a long pause, he finally spoke in a hoarse voice, "Save these words for Master. When we return to the mountain, I will personally go to Master and tell him that I, Stendhal, have no intention of competing for the successor position anymore, and I will recommend you to him. At that time, you can go and explain your 'reasoning' to him yourself."

Shen An paused, "Senior brother, you?"

"My mind is made up!" Stendhal's tone was resolute. "After today, what face do I have left to compete with you? I schemed against you, only to have you come to my rescue and even carry me back. What's the point of competing with you anymore? Wouldn't that be shameful?"

Shen An said nothing more, but silently adjusted the weight on his back and continued walking forward.

The following morning, on the Xiang River.

On a fast boat sailing downstream, Shen An and Stendhal sat facing each other. Stendhal's broken leg had been splinted and treated with ointment; although it was still painful, it was no longer a serious problem.

He ultimately decided to return to Hengyang with Shen An to recuperate and await further orders from his sect.

As the river breeze caressed his face, Stefan looked at the docks and villages along the riverbank and suddenly noticed that quite a few people were leaning over on the ground, rising and falling, sweating profusely.

-

"I've also practiced your damn 'Eight-Nine Arcane Arts'," Stendhal suddenly said, a strange look on his face. "My strength has indeed increased somewhat, but—it's a bit too slow."

Upon hearing this, Shen An's heart stirred, but he was not surprised. Before the Sword Trial Tournament, he had sent this "fake manual," which was compiled by combining modern fitness knowledge with internal energy cultivation methods, back to Mount Song through Feng Changrong.

He was also very curious about the opinions of the sect's higher-ups, so he took the opportunity to ask, "How do Master and your senior uncles evaluate this skill?"

Stendar curled his lip and said, "Master saw it himself and said that this method is indeed good. It has a complete system, is progressive, and can strengthen muscles and bones and increase strength."

But ultimately, these are just rudimentary external martial arts techniques, not considered superior methods. However, their advantage lies in their lack of mental strain; when tired of internal energy cultivation and swordsmanship, they can be practiced, serving as a balance between work and rest. As for why your strength has increased so rapidly, Master said it's mostly due to your exceptional talent, or perhaps some fortuitous encounter, consuming rare and precious herbs that others cannot imitate.

Upon hearing this, Shen An felt a great weight lifted from his heart.

Indeed, true martial arts masters of this era did not place much importance on such "street tricks" that merely increased physical strength; they believed more in the cultivation of internal energy and the subtlety of sword techniques.

I'm finally safe.