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

Chapter 117 Great Songyang Palm

An unprecedented extreme emotion arose in Lin Zhennan's heart.

He no longer hesitated or had any reservations. He first took action himself and captured one of the watchers, who, as Young Master Shen had said, was indeed a member of the Qingcheng Sect.

After that, he was like an old dragon whose scales had been touched, and he dragged out the Qingcheng Sect disciples hiding in Fuzhou City one by one and killed them all.

No one could have imagined that Lin Zhennan, who was always kind and friendly to everyone, would be so ruthless and decisive.

Perhaps even Lin Zhennan himself couldn't have imagined it.

That's why Yu Canghai arrived late. Of course, even if he had arrived earlier, it wouldn't have made a difference.

Faced with that bizarre and unparalleled Evil-Repelling Sword Technique, he was pierced by Lin Zhennan's three swords, his clothes were torn to shreds, and he fled in a sorry state.

Hey, don't let Songfeng Temple's short legs fool you. When those short legs kick around, most people really can't keep up.

At least Lin Zhennan is not suitable.

Inside the mourning hall, somber music played softly.

Lin Zhennan snapped out of his daze and looked at Lin Pingzhi, who was standing beside him with a sorrowful expression, feeling a mix of emotions.

It is time to let him marry and have children as soon as possible, so that he can have more descendants for the Lin family. Then, before I die, I will pass on this sword manual that will require a heavy price to him.

still----

"Ping'er," he suddenly said.

"Father?" Lin Pingzhi looked up, tears still glistening in his eyes.

"Would you be willing to formally become my apprentice?"

"But—Father, haven't you always been the one teaching me martial arts? Why are you suddenly bringing this up?" Lin Pingzhi asked, somewhat puzzled.

"I mean, to join a prestigious sect and become its disciple."

Upon hearing this, Lin Pingzhi's face revealed a hint of arrogance: "What's so great about prestigious sects? Our Fuwei Escort Agency has branches in ten provinces, with countless heroes under our command. If we gather together, are we no match for Shaolin or Wudang?"

"That's what they say, but ultimately it's different," Lin Zhennan sighed.

"Furthermore," Lin Pingzhi's voice rose a few decibels, "that Yu Canghai of the Qingcheng Sect fled in three moves before your Evil-Repelling Sword Technique, Father! Why would I, with my family's unparalleled martial arts, choose to learn the martial arts of some prestigious sect?"

Alas, it is precisely because your father does not want you to follow the same path as those who practice the Evil-Repelling Sword Technique that he hopes you will be accepted into a prestigious and righteous sect.

Lin Zhennan felt bitter but couldn't express it. He could only say, "Alright, even if you're willing to become a disciple, they might not accept you. Here's what we'll do: in a few days, Liu Zhengfeng, the third master of the Hengshan Sect, will be holding a ceremony to wash his hands of his past. Our family will go to Hengyang together to broaden our horizons and see if we can find you a good master."

Although Lin Pingzhi was still somewhat resentful, seeing his father's solemn expression, he obediently nodded.

The next morning, in an open space in the backyard of Bailianfang.

Stendhal was leaning back in a recliner with thick splints around his legs.

Although he has difficulty moving around, he is in good spirits.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

After a night of rest and medication, some color returned to his pale face.

Shen An stood in the center of the field with his sleeves tucked in, looking focused, wondering why his senior brother had called him here so early in the morning.

Shi Dengda took a sip of ginseng tea and slowly spoke, his tone carrying a hint of the arrogance of a senior disciple: "Junior brother, you have been training outside for three years, and your swordsmanship has improved rapidly. You are indeed exceptionally talented. But you should know that the Songshan Sect's standing in the martial world depends on more than just swordsmanship."

"Of the thirteen famous bodyguards of Mount Song, more than half rely on palm techniques for their livelihood. It's a pity that you didn't have time to learn our sect's superior palm techniques before you came down the mountain, but in principle, you should have been qualified to learn them long ago."

Upon hearing this, Shen An's heart stirred, and he bowed, saying, "Please enlighten me, Senior Brother."

I'm so happy!

That was exactly what Stendhal wanted to hear. He cleared his throat and said, "Very well, today I will pass on to you the Great Songyang Palm technique on behalf of my master. This palm technique is a unique skill passed down through the Songshan School, and it is as famous as the Songshan Sword Technique."

"This palm technique of mine was personally taught to me by my Uncle Ding when I went down the mountain on business. It is a direct descendant of what my master taught me, without the slightest difference."

He deliberately pointed out Ding Mian, both to elevate the significance of this palm technique and to inadvertently reveal that he was highly regarded by his elders.

However, as he spoke, he lost interest and began to explain in detail the mental techniques and key moves of the "Great Songyang Palm".

"—This palm technique emphasizes the free flow of Qi, with the intention preceding the palm. Watch closely, this first move may seem ordinary at first glance, but in reality, internal energy has already been channeled into both arms, ready to be unleashed. When the palm strikes, it must possess the power to topple a mountain; once the palm is struck, it will be like Mount Song pressing down, leaving no room for evasion!"

Although he was sitting, his hand movements were anything but sluggish. With a flick of his wrists, he created a deep, whistling sound as his powerful palm strikes stirred up dust several feet away.

"Did you see that clearly?" After demonstrating, Stendhal glanced sideways at Shen An, a slight smile playing on his lips. "This palm technique, though seemingly simple, is actually easy to learn but difficult to master. Its essence lies in the word 'sinking,' not only in the powerful and weighty movements but also in the concentrated and focused energy."

"Back when I first learned this palm technique, my second martial uncle only demonstrated it once, and I memorized all the moves. But to truly unleash that powerful palm force and grasp its essence, it took me three whole days to barely get started."

He said it so casually, others might not know, but he himself knew perfectly well.

He spent three whole months of hard work and suffered countless hardships to master this palm technique.

Shen An nodded without saying a word, but he kept every word and every detail of Stendhal’s actions firmly in mind.

After Stendhal finished explaining and demonstrating the entire set of palm techniques, Shen An slowly began to practice them in the arena.

The first time, he practiced very slowly, and his moves were slightly awkward, as if he was carefully studying the trajectory of each movement and the method of circulating internal energy.

Stendhal observed this and nodded to himself, thinking, "This kid is calm and composed; he's got the makings of a martial arts practitioner."

On the second attempt, Shen An's speed increased significantly, and his moves became much smoother. Each move already showed some of the rudiments of the "Great Songyang Palm," with the palm wind whistling and subtly carrying a sense of power.

Stendhal raised an eyebrow slightly, somewhat surprised: "Huh? It's only the second time, and it already looks like this? Not bad at all."

However, when Shen An began the third rehearsal, the only expression on Stefan's face was one of astonishment.

Shen An stood as steady as a mountain, and as he swung his palms, he was no longer simply imitating the moves, but truly incorporating the mental techniques and incantations into his movements.

With each palm strike, he unleashed a powerful and profound force, and the wind from his palms carried an aura of overwhelming force, as if mountains were collapsing!

This—this is clearly a sign that he has grasped the essence of the palm technique and has begun to master it!

Just then, Feng Changrong hurriedly walked in from outside the courtyard. He first glanced at Shen An, who was practicing his palm strikes in the field, and then at Shi Dengda, who was sitting in a daze. A hint of doubt flashed in his eyes, but he still bowed and reported, "Senior Brother, Senior Brother Shen."

His voice startled Stendhal, who was still immersed in the great shock.

Shen An also withdrew his palm strike, slowly exhaling a breath of stale air. He felt refreshed and invigorated, having gained a preliminary understanding of this palm technique. He turned to Feng Changrong and asked, "What is it?"

Feng Changrong took out a letter bearing the sect leader's seal from his bosom, presented it with both hands, and said solemnly, "It is a secret order sent urgently by the sect. The sect leader—orders Senior Brother Shen to set off immediately and return to Mount Song to report on your duties."