During the Republic of China era, I achieved unparalleled success by returning to the past.

The words are divided into two parts.

The rickshaw bell jingled softly.

"Uncle Lou, we've arrived at Longevity Street," the driver reminded him gently.

The rickshaw that followed also stopped. Song Beiyou stepped off, squinting slightly. The sun was high in the sky, its rays piercing the thick fog. He followed Jiang Minglou toward a shop.

"The old man used to be quite famous in Jizhou. Later, he led a group of old brothers south to Jiangzuo."

"It was during the final years of the previous dynasty, a time of great turmoil. The old man led us to seize a piece of the pie from the local bullies and establish a foothold in Zhabei."

"You younger generation may not know this, but the older generation has definitely heard of the Zhenshan Fist. Even Old Master Zhang of the Green Gang has great respect for the old man."

Song Beiyou listened attentively without interrupting. After walking along the street for a while, Jiang Minglou pointed to Old Qiao's shop, "We're here."

Song Beiyou looked up and saw the signboard read: Xu's Flower and Bird Shop.

The wooden frame at the entrance was filled with flowers, but it couldn't mask the fishy smell of wild birds emanating from the birdcage under the eaves.

A bald, white-haired old man was squatting in the corner fiddling with something. Without looking up, he asked, "So you've really become a boxing champion?"

"The old man's insight is still as sharp as ever. I brought him along."

"Hehe." The white-haired old man patted the dust off his clothes, turned around and stood up. His burly body was as solid as a door, and his old eyes seemed to have a divine light.

"Greetings, sir." Song Beiyou felt his breathing become slightly labored, and the pores on his body contracted. This was the instinctive reaction of his qi to the danger around him.

The old man chuckled: "Good, young and promising. Come in and have some tea with us."

Song Beiyou followed Jiang Minglou through the inner door into the back hall. He could tell that Jiang Minglou's tone and expression were filled with caution and respect.

Jiang Minglou helped boil water for tea, but the old man had Song Beiyou sit next to him and asked with a friendly smile, "How old are you this year?"

"Reporting to the old man, he is twenty-two."

"Who taught you all that kung fu?"

Song Beiyou thought to himself, "You're trying to find out my background, aren't you?" He then said, "I'm good friends with Ding Qiang from Fan Gua Village. I learned some of his White Ape Eight Arms technique, and later I learned the Longevity Tai Chi from Manager Chen of Chen's Tavern."

"You know the White Ape Eight-Armed Fist? Show it to me." The old man raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised.

Song Beiyou lowered his brows slightly, stood up and walked into the hall: "Then I will make a fool of myself in front of the old man." He then performed a set of standard boxing moves.

The old man chuckled: "You're still hiding your talents from me, kid. Do you know who that brat surnamed Ding's grandfather is? He's my junior brother."

Song Beiyou exclaimed in surprise, "There's such a connection? Does that mean the old man also knows the White Ape Eight-Armed Fist?" He suddenly remembered that he had once eaten donkey meat sandwiches with Zhang Dabao under the identity of Ding Qiang. At that time, Zhang Dabao mentioned that he had stayed in Tianjin with the old man.

The old man's snow-white beard twitched, and he stretched out his large, fan-like hand: "Come on, hit here."

The old man wanted to test his skills, and he also wanted to see just how strong his opponent was. He laughed and said, "Speaking of which, sir, you should be my grandmaster. If my grandmaster is testing my skills, then I'll have to offend him." He lowered his waist and hips, arched his back and stretched his arms, the veins on his hands bulging, and threw a punch at the old man's palm.

With a soft pop, the powerful punch seemed to strike the surface of water, finding no point of contact. The skin on the old man's hand rippled out like waves, the force of his punch completely neutralized.

Song Beiyou was shocked, his breath catching in his throat! What kind of realm was this? The Transcendent Realm?

The old man's eyes suddenly widened, flashing like lightning: "That punch of yours probably has the power of twenty years of practice. You have quite the talent."

"You flatter me, Grandmaster Uncle," Song Beiyou said modestly.

Jiang Minglou, who was brewing tea nearby, smiled. He had long since discovered that this kid possessed the White Ape Eight Arms and his skill was not low; otherwise, why would he have protected this kid all the way?

The old man chuckled: "Don't hold back, hit me with your strongest punch."

Song Beiyou hesitated slightly: "This is not appropriate, Grandmaster Uncle." He was playing hard to get, wanting to see what the old man was up to. Getting him to use his trump card was not so easy.

The old man's eyes seemed to see right through people. He squinted and smiled, "Since you've learned the White Ape Eight Arms technique, we must be destined to meet. How about this: if you can fend off even a fraction of my attack, I'll make an exception and take you as my last disciple. What do you say?"

Upon hearing this, Jiang Minglou paused in his teapot, spilling tea from the teacup and sending up a cloud of steam.

Song Beiyou's heart pounded. Having a master of the Transcendent Realm as a backer would be absolutely advantageous to him, not to mention he could even learn a move or two. His spirits immediately lifted, his eyes gleaming: "Old Master, you are a hero, your word is your bond."

The old man took a deep breath, sat steadily in the chair, turned his palms to gather his energy, his hands moving like surging waves, and said calmly, "Come."

As Song Beiyou activated his divine will, the Candle Illumination Scripture Exploration was activated. Suddenly, the old man's right hand trembled with energy, and the trajectory of his blood and qi flowed like lines on his palm. He immediately noticed the slight flaw in the energy.

Immediately, the mask switched to the Longevity Tai Chi, causing goosebumps to rise and a hidden surge of energy to emerge.

"Old man, be careful!"

With a sudden burst of power, he pounded the blue bricks with his foot, took a step forward, and threw a punch. The force of his punch was contained within the six blazing Yang fire energy, which transformed into an extremely fine needle-like beam that fiercely struck the old man's right palm.

Bang! A muffled thud exploded, and a strong gust of wind scattered.

The old man's hand trembled, and the blue bricks under his feet were crushed to pieces. He then flipped his wrist and placed his palm on the tea table in front of him.

The sturdy mahogany tea table was pressed down by his palm, causing the four corners to sink more than a foot into the blue bricks.

He looked at the blood blisters on his palms and grinned, "Yan Jin! You must have had some kind of extraordinary encounter. But everyone has their own destiny, and I won't pry. So, how about it? Would you like to become my disciple?"

"Congratulations, Ayou! The old man has only taken two disciples in his life. With you, you're the third. In this whole Zhabei area, the old man's every move shakes the place. Hurry up and become his disciple," Jiang Minglou urged from the side.

The old man lowered his eyes, smiled, and did not refute.

Song Beiyou immediately changed his address and bowed, saying, "Disciple greets Master."

The old man reached out to help him up, then turned and instructed, "Choose an auspicious day for me, and invite some friends from the martial arts world to be witnesses. I want to take on a last disciple."

Jiang Minglou placed the teacup on the lower tea table and smiled, "The 22nd of the twelfth lunar month is an auspicious day."

"Then it's the 22nd of the twelfth lunar month. You can make the arrangements."

Once Song Beiyou made up his mind and publicly accepted him as his last disciple, he, Song Beiyou, would no longer be a bandit from the outlying village. He could borrow the old man's tiger skin.

Just then, someone at the door reported, "Old man, something has happened."

"Come in."

A middle-aged man dressed in a gray cloth robe walked in, glanced at Song Beiyou, and hesitated before speaking.

The old man waved his hand: "Ayou is my newly accepted apprentice. We're all on the same side. Just say what you need to say."

The middle-aged man was taken aback. His gaze towards Song Beiyou immediately became respectful, and he cupped his hands and said, "Yes, Master Bao and Master Long have fallen out and had a fight tonight."

The old man snorted coldly: "What a worthless piece of trash. And what was the result?"

The middle-aged man in gray hesitated for a moment: "Master Long has probably run away, as for Master Bao, we haven't been able to find him yet."

"Ran away? Hmph, that's quite a clean getaway." The old man suddenly turned his head and looked at him. "Ayou, aren't you from Medicine Water Village?"

Song Beiyou was startled. Could he have been suspected? He immediately dismissed the thought, and without changing his expression, nodded: "Yes."

"You take Zhang Feilong's seat, do you dare?" The old man's eyes were like lightning, as if a clay Buddha had opened its eyes.

Song Beiyou was slightly surprised, but did not refuse, and said casually, "What is there for this disciple not to dare to do?"