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

Across from them, the Black Dragon Dojo members drew their katana, their blades gleaming white, reflecting the neon lights on either side, their cold light dazzling.

Song Beiyou narrowed his eyes slightly, then suddenly exerted force with both feet, leaping across the ground as if crossing flat ground, instantly covering nearly three zhang. The person at the front was still in disbelief when the blade had already slashed diagonally across his body.

In the next instant, he was already in front of the second man, his blade flashing as he slashed across his neck. Before he could even blink, he turned again, drawing his blade and slashing down. The third man froze, his long sword clattering to the ground.

Toothbrush Beard, lagging behind and considering himself the third senior brother, had just placed his hand on the hilt of his knife, but before he could even draw it, the black-clad youth moved like lightning, his blade flashing and slashing repeatedly—

In a single exchange, blood mist billowed like smoke.

Toothbrush Hu's pupils constricted sharply, his heart trembling with fear. He frantically drew his knife with his right hand. But the man in black was so fast he was just a blur, his knife skills so exquisite they were impossible to trace. The cleaver was like a white streak of lightning, spinning and flashing past. In the blink of an eye, the young man in black had already cut through a group of skilled fighters and was heading straight for him.

Toothbrush Beard's face paled in shock, and he raised his knife to strike with all his might. But his opponent's knife was like lightning, arriving in an instant.

laugh--

He felt a chill on his neck, and his vision suddenly spun upwards. In the instant he hovered at the highest point, his eyes widened and he saw the eight green-tiled, gray-roofed ridges of the temple.

That was the roof of the dojo! I'm flying? He seemed to understand something, and the next moment, his consciousness sank completely into darkness.

The headless corpse's raised katana fell to the ground with a thud, paused for a moment, then crashed down, blood gushing from its neck like a fountain.

The entire exchange was as fast as lightning.

The charging crowd was overwhelmed by the sights; suddenly, everything was empty before their eyes, and the enemies they had been fighting to the death with were all fallen. The severed head landed on the roof, rolled down the gutters, bounced twice on the ground, and then rolled into the ditch.

Everyone swallowed hard and looked at each other in bewilderment.

The dojo warriors who rushed out were terrified upon seeing the scene before them.

"He killed Watanabe-kun!"

"Senior Takeda is dead too!"

"Expert! Go back quickly! Let the instructors handle this!"

The dojo warriors retreated to the dojo in a panic, like the receding tide.

Song Beiyou flicked his wrist, shaking off two drops of crimson blood from the blade. The combination of inherited skills, Tai Chi, and the mastery of butchering techniques—it was indeed formidable, like slicing through melons and vegetables. But now was not the time for sentimentality. They were deep in the heart of Hongkou; if they alerted true masters from Japan, the consequences would be unimaginable.

"Quickly finish this!" In a flash, Song Beiyou pounced like a tiger, catching up with the last person. He reached out, grabbed his opponent by the collar, and pulled him backward.

The samurai felt a sudden lightness in his body and retreated. Then he felt a chill on his neck as a butcher's knife was pressed against it, terrifying him to the point of utter panic.

"Where is the shrine? Tell me!"

The samurai stared at Song Beiyou's hand, trembling all over, and stammered, "It's...it's behind, behind the dojo."

Song Beiyou extended his long arm and said, "A-Qiang, take him to the shrine through the back door."

Ding Qiang reached out and caught it, holding it in his hand like a chick: "I know."

Song Beiyou turned to Su Xiaowan and said, "Achun, you'll have to go with him."

Su Xiaowan nodded. She understood Song Beiyou's meaning; she was afraid that Ding Qiang might make a mistake if he went alone.

The two men immediately dragged the samurai to the side and ran away quickly.

Song Beiyou then looked at Shen Daguan and Ding Qiang's two subordinates, A Lei and A Liang: "The three of you guard the door. If there is any movement, immediately raise the alarm."

The three of them accepted the order in unison.

Song Beiyou raised his knife and gave a low shout, his eyes flashing with divine light: "The rest of you, follow me and charge in! Draw their attention! Once we find He Zheng's head, retreat immediately!"

"yes!"

Old Qian clasped his hands in a fist salute and followed Song Beiyou into the training ground. He thought to himself, "If he were in charge, in such a tense atmosphere, he would probably only think about charging forward. He would never think of using a feint to his advantage. If I continue to follow this guy, I'm afraid I, Old Qian, will really have my moment to make a name for myself in Jiangzuo."

Unaware of the thoughts in others' minds, Song Beiyou had already stepped onto the blue brick ground of the temple and was moving forward.

The dojo warriors retreated repeatedly, not daring to confront him at all.

shhh-

The sliding door opened, and a gaunt middle-aged man slowly walked out, wearing a haori (a type of traditional Chinese garment), wide trousers, white socks, and wooden clogs. He swept his gaze across the group of samurai, his eyes as cold as ice.

"A bunch of rabble, and you're this scared? What kind of training do you usually have? Useless!"

"Hai!" The warriors all lowered their heads, not daring to utter a sound.

The man snatched the samurai sword from the disciple beside him, slapped it across the face with the back of the blade, leaving a bloody mark.

"Swords are for attacking! You wield swords, yet you're intimidated by a bunch of lowly Chinese—it's an insult to the sword!"

"Hai! Asuka, we were wrong!"

Song Beiyou's eyes were like cold pools, and with a slight turn of his wrist, the blade gleamed in his hand.

Snapped!

Asuka Kyohan swung his sword again, striking another samurai on the head, and roared, "Knowing you're wrong isn't enough! You must wash away your shame with their blood!"

Before he could finish his last few words, he suddenly exerted force with both legs, kicking his wooden clogs away and rushing out, raising his knife to slash at the head.

Song Beiyou swung his sword, slashing away the wooden clogs that were coming at him. The sword flashed before his eyes, then suddenly changed direction, feinting a move before slashing horizontally towards his neck.

In the blink of an eye, as if he had anticipated this, Song Beiyou twirled the boning knife in his hand in an arc and handed it to the left.

Ding! The sound was like pearls falling.

Song Beiyou's arm trembled, and he knew his opponent's strength—he was also a master of internal force.

Fei Niao Jiao Fan hadn't expected Song Bei You to react so quickly. His killing move was broken, so he immediately changed his move, his shoulders and arms tensed, and his fierce sword moves came like a storm, layer upon layer.

Song Beiyou now possessed three swords, and his Tai Chi internal force was sufficient to withstand the impact of the opponent's blade energy. He then activated Autumn Cicada's First Sense, and in an instant, the opponent's rapid and fierce killing moves became full of flaws.

All I heard was the sound of ding-ding-ding-ding-

The two swords clashed, their blows as dense as a torrential downpour. Song Beiyou actually used a half-foot-long boning knife to intercept the attack of his opponent's three-foot-long sword.

As the two clashed, the others from both sides also charged into battle, fighting fiercely and evenly.

Asuka Kyohan unleashed a series of deadly moves, yet he could not overcome his opponent, leaving him in a state of utter shock. He cultivated the Divine Path of No Thought Style, confident that few in Japan could match his speed at the same level. Yet this masked youth before him was even faster. What terrified him even more was that his opponent seemed to be able to see through all his sword techniques, each strike precisely intercepting his impending attacks, rendering his "Step-Killing Divine Stance" useless and leaving him feeling utterly frustrated, almost to the point of vomiting blood.

In the brief moment he was distracted, the opponent's blade flashed past his chest.

In the face of life and death, he instinctively pulled in his stomach and chest and dodged backward, but he was still half a step too slow.

He suddenly felt a chill in his chest, all his strength drained away in an instant, and he staggered backward. Looking down, he saw that his clothes had ripped open at the chest, and a foot-long gash was gushing blood from his skin.

Song Beiyou, carrying a butcher's knife, approached step by step, coldly sneering, "It seems you're not worthy to wield your sword, Lord Feibiao."

Asuka, the instructor, looked terrified. He braced himself with his hands on the ground and struggled to move backward. His life hung in the balance, depending on his opponent's decision.