To tell the truth, this martial world is hard to traverse. It’s full of pitfalls and doesn’t hold much interest. Each day, doing laundry makes one’s scalp tingle, and it’s uncertain where the daily food expenses will come from. The most painful thing is that the sword wasn’t cared for and rusted, making it impossible to draw.
Jianghu? A damn jianghu, just a bunch of people with no interest, unwilling to be dogs, wandering aimlessly.
When people hear of a martial artist, few truly respect them unless they’re one of those with extraordinary martial arts skills. Masters live comfortably regardless of their presence in the jianghu, but for ordinary people, jianghu is merely about the basics, enduring glares. At such times, wanderers like to find something to do.
Rankings or jianghu masters, there must be something interesting, lest one dies of boredom.
But witnessing this battle here...
The martial artists realized that there is some charm in this jianghu.
The Sword Madman seemed to say something, and then the five palace masters and three legendary figures exchanged glances, letting go of their high-minded demeanor, and each exhibited their unique skills, striking together.
The military god wielded a spear, the formation leader set formations, and behind the Taoist sect, the yin yang reincarnates.
Su Wang laughed heartily, the giant bore his sword, the Taoist’s innate played the zither, the living Buddha recited sutras.
Martial artists felt that dying here was worth it.
Martial artists believed that the grandness of the jianghu had reached its pinnacle here.
They suddenly felt thirsty, wanting to drink the jianghu wine mixed with water, then to have a grand drunkenness.
Yet, in the distance, clouds parted, suddenly a piercing sword sound reached the sky, a wooden sword descended from the heavens, causing all swords in the city to resound as if trying to break free, the resounding swords creating a grand atmosphere, yet the swordsman in the green robe and white hair just smiled and shook his head.
He did not use that wooden sword from Jiangnan.
He just gave his all to battle against the legendary figures of 800 years and to clash with Red Dragon.
This final duel, who knows who won or lost.
Martial artists looked up, seeing the eight top martial artists falling, while Red Dragon spiraled, a crack appeared on the dragon horn, almost breaking, there was pain in the dragon roar.
The green-robed old man reached out, grasping the weapon from Jiangnan.
This sword was late by two hundred and thirteen years.
This sword came from over thirteen thousand miles away.
But Murong Longtu no longer needed the weapon.
Yet when he reached out, his palm brushing over this wooden sword, he looked back on his life, unbeaten in his youth, yet as the great jianghu grew larger, it became more and more tiresome, now in reflection, the most thrilling jianghu moment was over two hundred years ago.
Then he had not entered the jianghu, was merely a child, knocked stones together to fashion this wooden sword, in his eyes, the jianghu was vast and boundless, the aged swordsman lowered his eyes, gazing at the city’s martial artists, he smiled, chuckled, and finally burst into laughter.
Sword Madman, raise the sword again!
This time, the old swordsman’s divine will targeted the city’s wanderers!
The old man, stirred by youthful folly, just raised his sword, pointing at one martial artist after another. Among the martial artists who had clawed their way through the jianghu, the timid ones dropped their weapons, but the bold ones stepped forth, causing the old man to laugh heartily.
Later accounts recall the last words of the aged Sword Madman on this day.
"Jianghu, take my sword!"
The aged Sword Madman thrust his sword out.
He met with all the city’s jianghu wanderers, each exchanging a move.
Then he turned around and threw away the wooden sword in his hand.
Murong Longtu entered the jianghu with a killing intent.
Murong Longtu exited the jianghu with his sword.
But it only lasts until old age.