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

...

On the day of the competition, the martial arts academy's arena was packed with people.

Elite class disciples, ordinary class disciples, and disciples from the Confucianism, Taoism and Medicine Academy were all crowded in the stands, and even the aisles were full of people.

In the first round, Fu Qing faced a sixth-level cultivator at the Meridian Opening stage. His opponent was much stronger than Pei Qing, and he immediately launched a full-scale attack, trying to gain the upper hand.

After exchanging a few blows with him, Fu Qing noticed that his swordsmanship was unstable in the middle, his footwork couldn't keep up with his swordsmanship, and his center of gravity would shift to the left during the interval between each strike and the retraction of his sword.

He deliberately lured the man a few steps to the right, causing him to lose his balance. Fu Qing then thrust his blade forward, the tip striking the man's blade with lightning speed.

The sixth-level Qi Condensation cultivator was blasted off the stage along with his sword, and lay there for a long time before he could get up.

The entire venue fell silent for a moment, then erupted in a tsunami of gasps.

The referee raised his hand and announced that Fu Qing had won.

Pei Qing sat in the stands, his heart growing colder with each passing moment.

He originally thought Fu Qing was just physically strong, but he didn't expect him to be this strong in actual combat.

A young man from a prominent family leaned over and whispered something.

"Little Pei... are you still going to seek revenge?"

Pei Qing gritted his teeth and didn't say anything, looking down at the fingerprints on the back of his hand—the five fingerprints hadn't completely faded yet.

He now regrets provoking Fu Qing on the training ground, but the reputation of the Pei family in Jingjing prevents him from swallowing his anger.

...

In the second round, Fu Qing faced off against Song Zhiwen, a disciple of the Confucianism and Taoism branch.

Song Zhiwen was a gentle and refined young man. Upon entering the arena, he first bowed to Fu Qing, showing great politeness.

"Brother Fu's close-combat skills are too strong, but I will not give Fu Qing the chance to get close."

As soon as he finished speaking, he took a few steps back to create some distance, and then recited a poem, "Ode to Wind and Snow," in a very natural and elegant manner.

The temperature on the arena plummeted, and frost spread from Song Zhiwen's feet, covering the entire surface of the arena in the blink of an eye.

Song Zhiwen continued reading, and frost climbed up Fu Qing's leg.

Fu Qing looked down at his feet, and before the frost reached his knees, he drew his sword and unleashed a burst of sword energy. The energy cleaved through the air, shattering the ice wall that had just formed in front of Song Zhiwen, and the remaining force sent Song Zhiwen flying off the stage.

Song Zhiwen fell off the stage, got up, brushed the ice off his body, and instead of being angry, he bowed respectfully.

"Brother Fu is indeed worthy of his reputation. He can defeat ten techniques with one force. I admire him."

The disciples of the Confucianism and Taoism branch below the stage all gaped wide-eyed—Song Zhiwen was ranked among the top three in the Confucianism and Taoism branch, yet his "Ode to Wind and Snow" was shattered by Fu Qing with a single blow?!

...

In the third round, he will face Su Xue from the Pharmacy Branch.

Su Xue didn't recite any poems or draw her sword when she stepped onto the stage; she simply smiled slightly and paced around the arena.

Su Wen, who was sitting below the stage, frowned slightly. As a master of medicine, she could tell at a glance that Su Xue had already set up a medicinal array on the stage.

Fu Qing also sensed something was wrong, and faintly smelled a very sweet fragrance.

He immediately held his breath, but the sweet fragrance had already seeped into his skin, and then...

Nothing happened.

No dizziness, no weakness, no discomfort.

Fu Qing was stunned for a moment. He was also very surprised. He had seen Su Xue's drug before. Last time, even a Qi Refining Realm cultivator was drugged during the exhibition match.

But at this moment, he was standing in the very center of the medicinal array, and apart from the sweet fragrance, his body showed absolutely no reaction.

Su Xue's expression was even more shocked than his.

She stared wide-eyed as Fu Qing walked calmly through the thick medicinal mist to stand before her. She looked down at her hands, then up at Fu Qing, a hint of confusion appearing on his usually composed face...

Her drug formula was a family heirloom of the Su family. There was no antidote for those below the Gang Qi level. Even those at the Gang Qi level would feel dizzy and disoriented if they inhaled it.

Fu Qing is completely immune?

What she didn't know was that Suwen had been giving Fu Qing the Five Internal Organs Suppressing Medicine for more than half a year. The prescription contained an extremely rare ingredient called "Wan Gu Furnace Ash," which had a natural restraining effect on Gu poison and most sleeping pills.

Su Xue was unaware of all this; all she knew was that the man in front of her had been standing in her medicine array for quite some time without even blinking.

She took a deep breath, lowered her head, and muttered softly, "I give up, okay!"

Fu Qing cupped her hands in greeting, "Senior Sister, you're too kind."

Su Xue chuckled softly, "You have such a sweet tongue~"

...

In the quarterfinals, Fu Qing will face off against a cultivator at the ninth level of the Meridian Opening Realm.

After the other person went on stage, he glanced at Fu Qing, slung the knife over his shoulder, and grinned.

"Junior brother, I've watched all your previous matches. You are indeed quite skilled, and your combat experience far surpasses mine. However, you are only at the Meridian Opening Realm, while I am the number one person below the Qi Refining Realm, at the ninth level of the Meridian Opening Realm!"

"Alright, I'll give you three moves. After that, I'll show you what real swordsmanship is."

This person wasn't being arrogant; rather, he was putting psychological pressure on Fu Qing, positioning him as the challenger. If Fu Qing's mentality wasn't strong enough, he would feel that he was destined to lose to his opponent, and his strength would be greatly diminished.

But Fu Qing merely stared at the big, clumsy man in silence for a moment, then smiled slightly.

"Then I won't stand on ceremony, junior brother!"

Before he finished speaking, Fu Qing drew his cold iron sword, stepped forward, and slashed out with the force of splitting Mount Hua in two!

He started with the same continuous sword technique he had learned when he was cutting down Helian Yunshan, each strike connected to the next, each strike heavier than the last.

When the first strike was delivered, the opponent parried with a horizontal blade, and with a "clang," was knocked back a step, the smile on his face fading slightly.

The second slash followed immediately, and with a clang, the opponent took another step back. The third, fourth, and fifth slashes followed—

Fu Qing unleashed twelve consecutive strikes, each hitting the same spot. On the twelfth strike, a cultivator at the ninth level of the Qi Refining Realm knelt on one knee, gritting his teeth and enduring the pain...

"Junior brother! I know that move, it only has twelve..."

But at this moment, Fu Qing, whose arm was numb and whose tiger's mouth was bleeding, gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, raised his knife and slashed again, the thirteenth time!

With the final strike, the ninth-level Qi Convergence cultivator collapsed to his knees on the arena, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted.

Fu Qing sheathed his sword. "Thank you for your courtesy, Senior Brother. One move is enough."

The entire room remained silent for several breaths.

"well played!"

On the top seat, Yin Ruyan swung her toes and watched with a giggle, looking very happy.

Fu Qing looked up, but couldn't see the face clearly because of the distance.

...

That afternoon, the large bronze bell at the entrance of the martial arts academy was rung three times. It wasn't to celebrate Fu Qing's victory, since these aristocratic disciples wanted nothing more than to devour Fu Qing alive; they certainly wouldn't celebrate for him.

It was to welcome back the eldest disciple, who had returned from his training. As was customary, all the disciples of the academy lined up in the training ground to greet him.

Pei Qing stood at the front of the line, his expression not looking good.

Han Duo stood next to him, the splint on his wrist still in place, his forearm swollen like a steamed bun.

Behind them, several senior students from elite classes were all injured; some had bruises on their foreheads, and some walked with a limp.

An Sheng rode a chestnut-colored prairie horse into the training ground, dismounted, threw the reins to the servant beside him, and glanced at the junior brothers and sisters who were lined up to greet him.

In the first row, Pei Qing's hand was wrapped in bandages.

In the second row, Han Duo had a splint on his wrist.

There were two more people with bruises and swelling in the third row, and one person with a cane in the fourth row.

An Sheng stopped in his tracks, his brows furrowing slightly.

"you..."

He tucked the riding crop into the saddle, walked up to Pei Qing, looked down at his bandaged hand, and asked, "What happened to your hand?"

Pei Qing hid his hands behind his back. "N-nothing, I twisted my ankle while practicing swordsmanship."

"You twisted it?"

An Sheng reached out and pulled Pei Qing's hand out from behind his back. Although the five finger marks had turned pale yellow, the shape of the marks was still clear, indicating that they were made by a person's hand.

"Can sword practice create fingerprints?"

He released Pei Qing's hand and turned to look at Han Duo, "What happened to your hand?"

Han Duo lowered his head, not daring to look at him: "When we were practicing with the whip..."

"You're practicing with a nine-section steel whip, not nine-section bone fractures."

An Sheng took a step back, his gaze sweeping from the first row to the fourth, looking at each person one by one. Everyone he saw lowered their heads.

He remained silent for a long while before finally speaking: "Who hit me?"

No one said a word.

"I asked who hit him!"

An Sheng's voice suddenly rose, startling several sparrows on the drill ground into fluttering away.

Pei Qing gritted his teeth. "Fu Qing, a commoner from the border."