Taking Liu Yifei back to Northeast China for the Chinese New Year has sent the entire internet into

The old man stood in the middle of the courtyard, carrying a large machete.

Snow fell on his shoulders and gray hair, but he didn't brush it off.

A crowd gathered and applauded, but he didn't respond.

He simply looked down at the large cleaver in his hand, which had been with the Fang family for three generations, and saw his wrinkled face reflected in the blade.

The old man spoke, his voice still hoarse from not breathing properly.

"My father taught me this 'Broken Door Splitting' technique when I was twelve years old."

"He told me that this sword technique is not flashy, but if you master it, it can save your life in a critical moment."

"Later... the Japanese surrendered, and the world was at peace, so it was no longer needed."

"I just thought, it has to be passed down."

"But……"

The old man raised his head and glanced at his descendants in the yard.

Fang Daqiang, Fang Daguo, and their second uncle, all with large bellies, stood in the snow, stamping their feet to keep warm.

My cousins ​​huddled against the wall, each one thinner than the last.

Grandpa Fang remained silent for a few seconds.

"The big country found it too tiring and stopped studying after three days."

"Not to mention Daqiang, he can't even properly chop a watermelon with a knife."

Fang Daqiang shrank back, pretending not to hear.

Fang Daguo also tilted his head to one side, his eyes darting around.

The old man placed his large machete on the snow, supporting himself with both hands on the handle, like he was using a cane.

"The Fang family's life-saving skill... has ended with me."

He spoke these words softly, without the force he used when wielding his sword.

The wind blew away half of his voice.

"This skill has no successor."

The atmosphere in the courtyard changed instantly.

The enthusiastic cheers that had just been heard were all swallowed back down.

The Fang brothers stood there, none of them daring to say a word.

They were indeed in the wrong; the old man had taught them one by one, but they all gave up.

Liu Yifei looked at the old man's hunched back, her throat tightening.

The old man, who was full of vigor just a minute ago, now stands there in the snow, holding a knife that is older than him.

The wind blew his faded blue Zhongshan suit, making it flutter loudly.

That scene suddenly reminded her of a word.

Lian Po is old.

The style of the comments in the live stream suddenly changed.

Damn... why isn't it funny anymore all of a sudden?

[The old man's swordsmanship was truly excellent, what a pity.]

[My family is moved to tears. This is the regret of passing on traditions. Every era has its own way of life, and some things are destined to be lost.]

[I took a screenshot of the scene where Grandpa stands in the snow, leaning on his knife. It's more beautiful than any movie poster.]

Fang Yu stood under the eaves, his lips moved, but he didn't say anything.

As he watched his grandfather's retreating figure, he felt something for the first time in his heart.

Beneath that faded blue Zhongshan suit lies more than just a hot-tempered old man.

There's also a whole period of history where no one has taken over.

Fang Yu suddenly remembered.

He had already browsed the "Martial Arts Master" section in the system store.

Back then, I dreamed of entering the film and television industry, making a martial arts epic, and personally taking on all those pretty boys who only knew how to use wire work to crush them.

I didn't expect it to come in handy today.

However, what truly made him make the decision was not entirely his grandfather's words, "There is no one to carry on the family line."

Instead, he glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Liu Yifei standing next to him staring at the large machete in the snow, her lips slightly parted and her eyes shining brightly.

That expression clearly said four big words—I want to learn too.

Fang Yu felt a chill run down the back of his neck.

No.

If she actually manages to teach this menacing "Severing Door and Chopping Hanging" technique, coupled with that "Execute First, Report Later" imperial sword from before...

From now on, my status in this family will probably plummet from "the bottom of the food chain" to "meat on the chopping board"!

How can we live like that?!

We must strike first!

With a thought, Fang Yu successfully redeemed the [Martial Arts Master (Sword Technique Proficiency)]!

A strange yet familiar power surged up from deep within my bones.

Muscle memory, power generation techniques, and breathing rhythm are all instantly infused into every part of the body.

Fang Yu stretched his wrists, stepped down the stairs, and walked towards his grandfather, his footsteps crunching through the snow.

"Master."

Grandpa Fang looked at his grandson and frowned slightly.

"What are you doing?"

Fang Yu didn't say much, and reached out to grasp the hilt of the knife that was stuck in the frozen snow.

Then I pulled it out directly and made a starting stance.

Everyone was stunned for half a second.

The next second it exploded!

Fang Daqiang, Fang Daguo, and a few others who were standing at the base of the courtyard wall let out a loud "howl" and took three big steps back, their backs slamming against the wall with a "thud".

One by one, they raised their hands to shield their faces, fearing that Fang Yu might accidentally throw the knife at them.

Fang Zheng, the cousin who had been standing near the front, slid behind Fang Ning and only dared to peek out from between his sister's shoulders.

Even Liu Yifei was ready to run into the house at any moment.

The viewers in the live stream almost burst out laughing.

[Hahaha, as expected of Fang Yu, he scared the whole family back three meters before he even made a move!]

[If I were his relative, I'd run away too! This guy's always acting recklessly; who knows if he'll throw the knife around like a frisbee!]

Grandpa Fang originally wanted to scold him for "making a fool of himself".

But the next second, seeing Fang Yu's awkward step, he swallowed back the words that were on the tip of his tongue, and his pupils suddenly contracted.

This footwork...

Before he could figure it out, Fang Yu had already made his move.

"Ho—!"

A loud shout exploded from his chest.

The large cleaver slashed down diagonally, following the exact same route as the old man—short, fast, and ruthless!

But the wind from the blade is even fiercer!

Without stopping after the initial chop, he flips his wrist, the back of the blade facing upwards, and sweeps horizontally!

A furrow, deeper and longer than the one the old man had carved, was ploughed into the snow, and snowflakes flew up to a height of half a person!

"Broken door and split hanging!"

Fang Yu charged forward through the snow, his second move flowing seamlessly into the next.

Chop, hang, flick, slash.

Every move is made with the shortest distance, every strike is aimed at a vital point.

But unlike the old man, Fang Yu's movements had an indescribable "smoothness".

The old man's mastery of this knife technique relies on decades of muscle memory and an inherent ruthlessness.

But as he gets older, some of the transitions are noticeably abrupt.

Fang Yu is different.

A twenty-three-year-old body, peak explosive power, coupled with maxed-out skills infused by the system.

His split-door strikes were faster, more powerful, and smoother than the old man's.

The move of thrusting forward with a knife in one hand left a silver line in the air, accompanied by a sharp and piercing sound.

The Fang brothers, standing at the foot of the courtyard wall, were completely dumbfounded.

Fang Daguo didn't even notice the cigarette in his mouth fall onto the snow.

My cousin Fang Zheng stared wide-eyed, his chin almost hitting his chest, muttering to himself:

"Holy crap... is my bro possessed by my great-grandfather...?"

In the blink of an eye, he reached the final three moves. Fang Yu gripped the hilt of the sword with both hands and raised it high above his head. The winter sunlight fell on the gleaming blade, creating a dazzling, cold light.

"drink!"

It cleaved Mount Hua in two and plummeted straight down!

With a muffled thud, the blow was even heavier than the old man's earlier strike. The frozen soil beneath the snow was cleaved into a shallow white mark nearly a foot long, and shards of snow were blasted up to a height of more than a person.

Sheathing the sword, stepping back, and returning the sword tip to its original position with the tip pointing downwards—the entire sequence of movements was fluid and without the slightest hesitation.