Chaotic Times and Disasters: I Hunt Down Martial Arts Masters and Become a God

Fu Qing got up very early that day and occupied a corner of the elite class training ground by himself.

He drew the Cold Iron Blade from its sheath and began studying basic sword techniques.

He had been pondering the teachings of the martial arts master for a month.

The knife is simple, with only one purpose—to kill someone.

There are no fancy moves, no fancy stances, only the most basic three techniques: sweeping, chopping, and striking.

A flick is from bottom to top, a chop is from top to bottom, and a point is a straight thrust.

It's easier said than done. To fully comprehend these three techniques and concentrate all the body's energy, strength, and speed into a single strike requires years of accumulated experience.

He fought in Ironblood City for more than half a year, killing no fewer than dozens of Di cavalrymen and centurions. Every time he swung his sword, he was risking his life to test whether his sword was fast enough, heavy enough, and accurate enough.

When the knife and the heart are in harmony, and the heart and the person are in harmony, when a single move is delivered, the energy and blood of the entire body must be in place.

He had already vaguely grasped the essence of this on the battlefield. In the battle of Helian Yunshan, he unleashed twelve consecutive blows in a fit of rage, each blow heavier than the last.

Looking back, that state was exactly what the martial arts master called "man and sword as one." Although I only touched the edge of the threshold, at least I knew which way the door opened.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them, he slashed out with his sword, the blade drawing an arc from bottom to top. He then sheathed his sword and slashed again.

Just as he was concentrating, a series of chaotic footsteps came from the entrance of the training ground.

Seven or eight people.

Fu Qing didn't turn around. He could tell the cultivation levels of the people coming from the footsteps: two were at the fourth level of the Meridian Opening Realm, and three were at the fifth level.

"Fu Qing!" Pei Qing's voice came from behind.

Fu Qing sheathed the Cold Iron Blade and turned around.

Pei Qing stood at the front of seven or eight people, with five experts at the Meridian Opening Realm behind him. Han Duo stood behind Pei Qing, his eyes gloomy, holding a newly replaced nine-section steel whip in his hand.

"Weren't you supposed to be a formidable fighter in the ring last time?"

Pei Qing tucked his folding fan into his belt, took a step forward, and burst into wild laughter.

"I brought a few of my senior brothers with me today to spar with you, how about it?"

Fu Qing cracked his knuckles, scanning each of the six faces with a sneer. "If you can't handle it yourself, you call your parents. Next time, will you have to call your father too?"

"I..."

Pei Qing glared, gritted his teeth, and waved his hand, "Get them!"

Five people pounced on him at the same time.

Han Duo's steel whip arrived first, three afterimages aimed straight at Fu Qing's face, but Fu Qing had already figured out his whip technique on the arena.

Instead of retreating, Fu Qing advanced, cutting into Han Duo's inner circle. The steel whip was a long weapon, and once someone cut into the inner circle, it was half useless.

Han Duo's expression changed drastically as he tried to back away to create distance, but Fu Qing's blade had already struck his wrist.

With a sharp "crack," Han Duo screamed as the steel whip slipped from his hand and fell to the ground. He clutched his wrist and retreated.

The two cultivators, each at the fifth level of the Meridian Connection, attacked simultaneously from the left and right.

They wielded a knife on the left and a sword on the right, their coordination was fairly good—but it was only a coordination honed on the martial arts academy's arena, far inferior to the scimitar attacks of the Di cavalry on the battlefield.

Fu Qing had been attacked from both sides by two centurions at the Meridian Opening Realm in Iron Blood City, and had been driven to the brink of despair by Helian Yunshan's spear technique. The attack from these two in front of him seemed like a slow-motion scene.

He feinted to the left, forcing the swordsman to retreat, then thrust with a backhand slash, the tip of his blade piercing the air and striking the middle of the swordsman's blade.

A notch was pierced into the blade, and the longsword flew out of my hand, bouncing twice on the stone floor.

Immediately afterward, Fu Qing kicked him in the chest, using the recoil to shift three feet to the side, barely avoiding a sword thrust from behind by the third cultivator at the Meridian Opening Realm.

The remaining two cultivators at the fourth level of the Qi Refining Realm saw the three people in front of them being knocked down in a single exchange, and their hands holding the swords began to tremble.

One of them gritted his teeth, shouted, and charged forward. Before he could even unleash his sword, Fu Qing struck him on the blade, sending him flying and sliding several feet to the ground.

The last cultivator at the fourth level of the Meridian Opening stage turned to run, but Fu Qing caught up from behind after only two steps and struck him on the back of the head with the back of his blade, knocking him unconscious on the spot.

The five cultivators, from the moment they started to the moment they all lay down, did so in less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea.

Pei Qing stared blankly at the scene, collapsed to the ground, his legs trembling uncontrollably, his back covered in cold sweat, soaking a large patch of his brocade robe.

Fu Qing sheathed his knife, walked up to him, and squatted down. Pei Qing was so frightened that he shrank back.

"Call more people next time."

Fu Qing chuckled lightly and walked out of the training ground without looking back.

...

That afternoon, the news spread throughout the entire Martial Arts Academy, and the higher-ups were furious—not because Fu Qing had hit someone, but because the elite class's aristocratic scions, who had fought five against one, had been completely wiped out, bringing shame to the Martial Arts Academy.

Several instructors from prominent families jointly petitioned the academy to punish Fu Qing, arguing that he had "fighted among his own disciples."

An elderly, white-haired teacher even slammed his fist on the table.

"A mere commoner from the borderlands dares to act so arrogantly at the martial arts academy just because he killed a few barbarians on the battlefield! This kind of behavior cannot be allowed to continue!"

A cute little girl with short legs sat in the main seat, holding a plate of osmanthus cake in her hands, her two legs dangling on the chair and swinging back and forth.

She looked no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, with her hair in two buns, wearing a pink dress, and munching on pastries with her cheeks puffed out.

But none of the elderly, white-haired teachers in the room dared to speak loudly in front of her.

Yin Ruyan, the head of the Martial Academy, whose real age and cultivation level are unknown. All that is known is that when the previous headmaster stepped down, he handed her the headmaster's token in front of the entire Martial Academy and then respectfully called her "Senior Sister".

After listening to everyone's impassioned speeches, she stuffed the last piece of osmanthus cake into her mouth, clapped her hands, and asked, "Finished?"

"Your Excellency, this matter must be severely punished!"

I don't think so.

Yin Ruyan picked up her teacup and took a sip. "In recent years, the disciples of the Martial Academy have become arrogant and haughty due to the pampering of aristocratic families. They think they are invincible just because they sweep the top spots in the competition every year..."

"Last autumn hunt, someone was so frightened by a demonic bear that they fell off their horse—aren't you ashamed to tell others?"

She put down her teacup and looked around at everyone present.

"Fu Qing was a bit too heavy-handed, but he didn't kill anyone. Instead, he showed those arrogant guys what it means to be outmatched. That's not a bad thing."

She stood up, hung the abbot's token on her waist, and said, "I'll pass on the punishment and just give you a verbal warning. Meeting adjourned."

After saying that, she walked out of the council hall with her hands behind her back and her hair in a bun. A group of white-haired old teachers looked at each other and could only disperse in a huff.

...

The martial arts academy competition was in three days. As soon as the news of Fu Qing's registration spread, at least half of the elite class regarded him as their rival, while the other half secretly set up betting odds on how many rounds he could reach.

While looking at the odds table, Fu Qing noticed a line of small print: The final winner of the competition will be qualified to enter the palace to attend the imperial banquet.

He didn't care about whether he could dine with the emperor; he only cared about whether he could fight and hone his skills.