Volume 8: The Jianghu Chapter 372 Thirteen Years in a Flash
It was late autumn.
On the shores of Bohai Sea.
With a loud "boom", under the gray sky, waves crashed against the shore, making a sound like thunder.
The black waves swept in , the wind raged, and on the undulating sea surface, only between the waves, a pair of eyes suddenly opened quietly from the water, cold and resolute, sharp as a sword.
There was someone in the sea.
“Wow!”
In a flash of his eyes, he saw that the thick ink-like sea water was suddenly cut off in the middle, and a dark sword light split the waves and the sea, breaking through the water, which was truly shocking.
Just as the waves were rising and falling, a man was seen walking out of the sea.
The man looked middle-aged, dressed in white, with a white band tied around his eyebrows. His hair was tangled and his face was half-hidden, making it difficult to see his true features. But the most striking thing was the sword he carried on his back. It was a strange, nearly six-foot-long sword, not from the Central Plains, but a unique sword worn by Fuso swordsmen.
The white-robed swordsman came ashore and stopped, and the waves behind him also closed in.
The cold wind is like a knife, and the sword intent soars into the sky.
"Li Muchan!"
The first word this person said when he set foot in the Central Plains was actually a name.
He couldn't remember how many times he had read this name .
In order to remember it all the time, he thought about it day and night, and it almost turned into a nightmare in his heart; in order to be able to set foot in the Central Plains, in order to be able to fight this person again, he was disgusted with joy, gave up love and desire, just to reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship.
The white-robed swordsman pondered for a moment, then murmured, "World Alliance!"
However, after murmuring, the man closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He is too tired.
He had come all alone from Fusang, crossing the boundless ocean. Ordinary people wouldn't even dare to think about it, let alone do it, but he had done it. On the way here, he had also fought with sharks and whales, cut through the wind and waves, and the hardships he had endured were like ascending to heaven.
But none of this matters. In his heart, if there is anything harder to achieve in this world, it would be challenging Li Muchan.
And now, he is about to ascend to the sky and fight it.
But before the big battle, you naturally need to rest up enough.
I didn't expect that I would sleep for three days and three nights, standing straight, exposed to the wind and sun, and sleeping so soundly that I almost felt like I was dead.
It was not until one morning three days later that the white-robed swordsman opened his eyes and set foot again, heading towards the Central Plains.
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Wudang.
October 9th.
It was the time of the year when Wudang opened its gates to recruit disciples, so carriages and horses had arrived at the foot of the mountain several days ago and had been waiting for a long time.
Thirteen years have passed since the Central Plains martial arts world experienced a catastrophe that lasted for several years . The Demon Cult moved eastward, and then encountered the chaotic times of Qinglong, the turmoil of the Money Gang and the World Alliance, and the disaster of Tianzun.
Over the past thirteen years, the Central Plains martial arts world has ushered in an unprecedented prosperity. All schools, factions, gangs and forces have opened their doors, recruited disciples and young people, and are growing stronger day by day.
In the past, the masters of several sects were almost completely wiped out in the series of catastrophes, resulting in a lack of successors. It was precisely during these thirteen years that they were able to recover and regain their former glory, or even surpass it.
But the strange thing is that although various forces have risen and grown stronger, there has been little bloodshed.
This is because at the end of this world of mixed people, there is always a force that dominates all directions, sweeping across the martial arts world of thirteen provinces, supreme and powerful, and unshakable.
World Alliance.
To this day, no one knows how many members there are in the Tianxia Alliance.
No one knows how many leaders the Tianxia Alliance has, how many masters it has, how many hall masters it has. Even the grand leader is almost a person living in rumors, unfathomable and difficult to get a glimpse of.
The only thing others knew was that the Tianxia Alliance had earned so much money that it was beyond description.
Another thing is that the Tianxia Alliance is very powerful, so powerful that it can command the Western Regions, roam the seven seas, and look down on the Central Plains.
Such a force is unique in ancient and modern times. It is truly earth-shattering and makes ghosts and gods cry. It is unique in history.
During these thirteen years, many masters have emerged in the world.
Among them, the head of Wudang, Taoist Qingsong, is the best.
This man achieved fame relatively late, yet his achievements were truly remarkable. He only rose to fame in the martial arts world when he was nearly fifty years old, thanks to his mastery of the "Liang Yi Sword Technique." He then spent ten years painstakingly rebuilding the Wudang Sect, restoring its former glory and making it the foremost sect in the righteous martial arts world.
Moreover, today is not only the day when Wudang Sect opens its doors to the public, but also the sixtieth birthday of Taoist Qingsong. According to the sect's rules, he should accept two closed disciples so that he can pass on the position of the sect leader to the next generation.
By this time, the foot of Wudang Mountain had already gathered many young heroes who had come from all directions to seek refuge. Among them were many descendants of martial arts families, some young masters of powerful underworld forces, and the sons of wealthy merchants, but the majority were ordinary people with no foundation or backing.
In that endless crowd of people, there were two young men squatting beside a large bluestone with their sleeves tucked in, their buttocks hanging in the air, looking distressed and bored.
The two men were of similar build and even looked the same. They were both wearing large grey coats that had been washed to a pale color. Their faces were covered with dust and dirt, as if they had traveled a long way. They looked like refugees fleeing famine.
“There are too many people.”
The man on the left broke off half a pancake from his sleeve while speaking and started eating it. He chewed very hard, looking bitter and resentful.
The man on the right was also overwhelmed by the huge crowd. "I heard that Bashan Sword House is also recruiting disciples. Why don't we go and give it a try?"
The two of them spoke one after another, and then they all looked at the man squatting on the big bluestone, "Dad, please say something."
"What?"
But the man had his back to them at first, but turned around when he heard the voice. He was so disheveled and ragged, looking more like a beggar than a beggar.
"Don't worry about whether you'll be chosen yet. Always think positively. If those seniors on the mountain really accept you as their disciples, remember to practice hard. Don't be like your father and me, who lived a life of mediocrity and poverty."
Hearing the man's words, the two brothers nodded quickly.
In order to send them to Wudang to become disciples, their parents took out all their savings and scraped together more than ten or twenty taels of silver. Along the way, apart from having a few full meals, they were reluctant to even find a place to stay, and even a bowl of noodles did not contain any meat.
At this time.
"Who is from the Gusu Shi family?"
Suddenly, a young Taoist priest on the mountain path greeted loudly.
A pale-faced young man immediately stepped out from the crowd and bowed, "Junior Shi Yan, greetings to the Taoist priest."
The young Taoist nodded and smiled, then asked, "Has anyone from the Shanxi Mu family come?"
"Yes!" Another young man with a sallow face squeezed out from the crowd and said, "Junior Mu Fei, greetings to the Taoist priest."
"You two, follow me up the mountain."
The young Taoist priest carried a Taoist sword on his back and held a whisk in his hand. He raised his hand and led the two of them up the mountain.
Seeing this, the man on the large bluestone rolled his eyes and sneered, "So this is already a pre-determined decision. The saying 'the highest good is like water' and 'the way of seeking inaction' is simply bullshit."
These words scared the two young men beside him. They looked around and saw that no one heard it, so they breathed a sigh of relief.
"Dad, how about we..."
Before he could finish his words, everyone at the foot of the mountain shuddered and made way for him.
But in the bleak autumn wind, a swordsman in white came with a six-foot-long sword on his back. He climbed the stairs step by step and broke into the gate of Wudang Mountain.
"Who is the leader of the Wudang Clan?"
The powerful voice resounded throughout most of Wudang Mountain, causing the Taoist bell on the top of the mountain to hum non-stop and causing the wind and clouds to change color.
The timid people at the foot of the mountain had already collapsed to the ground, dizzy and dazed by the shock.
Someone cried out in surprise, "Oh no! Thirteen years of disaster!"
