Honestly, one after another, none of them are easy for him to deal with.
The expression behind the fan was somewhat distorted. "If you yell again, I'll kick you back to keep Master Xiaoyao company."
No!
His baby face immediately fell.
He didn't want to be like the youngest brother, who was left behind when "good things" happened, even though that was a sign of his senior brothers' affection.
"Try embarrassing me again! Take a stool and sit on the side."
Just as Shiyi was about to sit down as instructed, a gong sounded downstairs.
"The ninety-fourth flag, the Yue family of Jingzhou, the young master of Junshan."
When navigating the world, the most dangerous thing is a treacherous and cunning person.
On the ground, the Immovable Monk suddenly thought of this sentence.
"Can you still stand up, Master Fudo?"
He looked up, and before him stood the handsome young man, equally beautiful as a man, none other than Yue Junshan, the renowned physician. Unfortunately, the needles in his hand were not for saving lives, but for—
Suddenly, he vomited a pool of blood.
Because of the sword ban, only those swords prepared by the officials could be used when entering the arena. After breaking Yue Junshan's longsword, he thought he had won. Unexpectedly, Yue Junshan secretly fired silver needles, each one dangerous. Although he blocked most of them, he was still hit.
"How despicable," Bu Dong said bitterly.
"Despicable? Master, you underestimated your enemy." Yue Junshan was not ashamed, and instead ordered the officials to raise the flag.
"Wait a minute, Yue Junshan has already chosen his weapons, how can he still use hidden weapons!"
"Yue Junshan violated regulations! His qualifications should be revoked!"
The Shaolin disciples raised their heads and retorted, sparking a murmur of discussion among the crowd. Just as the situation reached a stalemate, and the officials from Nanshan Academy were discussing the matter, a deafening laugh rang out. Those with slightly weaker internal strength coughed up blood, and Yue Junshan's face turned pale, his hand holding the needle trembling slightly.
Two people walked out of the corridor. The older one had an extremely ugly face, his eyes, nose, and facial features looking like they had been severely injured, crookedly set into his face. The younger one had a high nose bridge, wide eyes, and like the ugly old man, a full beard. He wore a riding jacket, and his bald head shone brighter than a Shaolin monk.
“The Northern Barbarians.” Upstairs, Rong Ye closed his fan.
"Northern Barbarians? What are the Northern Barbarians doing here?" Eleven was completely bewildered.
"I'm afraid it's because of that official seal."
Not only Rong Ye, but the others from Tianmenlong also turned their attention to the generous reward offered by the imperial court—a fifth-rank military seal in Zhili.
What they had been worried about had finally happened.
"The martial arts world in the Central Plains is still as lively as ever. Why fight over a hidden weapon for so long? He won't be standing here for long anyway." The old man's crooked eyes swept over the crowd before stopping on the stage.
Seeing this, Yue Junshan became alert and stepped back.
"Geng'er," the old ugly man called out.
The young man leaped onto the dueling platform, and the moment he landed, there was a sound of breaking stone, and the crack stretched from his feet all the way to Yue Junshan's front.
"Wait a minute. According to the rules of the martial arts competition, only those holding the yellow flag can go on stage. If you want to spar, please choose another time."
Just as Yue Junshan was about to applaud his quick wit, he saw the Northern Di man named Geng take out a dark red flag.
The flag's edges were its natural yellow, while the body was stained with blood, clearly indicating the fate of its former owner.
"The ninety-fifth flag, the Northern Barbarian, Xianyu Geng."
The young man introduced himself and, before Yue Junshan could react, unleashed a Dragon Claw attack to seize his heart.
"The Art of Soaring Dragon!" Cong Luan suddenly stood up.
"The Soaring Dragon Technique?" Xiao Kuang shifted his gaze from the dueling platform to his side.
"The one who is proficient in the art of the Soaring Dragon is the National Preceptor of the Northern Barbarians. In the fifth year of Yuanning, the National Preceptor of the Northern Barbarians, Xianyu Shirong, was defeated by Yu Zhanyuan at the top of Mount Tai and was forced to fulfill the agreement not to enter Shanhaiguan for twenty years. Calculating the years, this year is exactly the year the agreement expires," Cong Luan said lightly.
“The three lines of calligraphy by the previous Shan Lao are hidden behind the North Di Gate of this room,” the master of the seventh room of Nanshan Academy recalled. “Xianyu Shirong’s appearance was completely destroyed, and he made a pact with Yu Zhanyuan for the younger generation to fight again.”
His appearance was completely ruined.
Cong Luan looked down at the old, ugly man below the stage. "Where can we find another Yu Zhanyuan?"
Although we do not know who this second person is, we are certain that it is definitely not Yue Junshan.
With disheveled hair mixed with blood covering his face, Yue Junshan lay on his back, watching helplessly as his flag was raised onto the stone wall.
How despicable, how despicable, to be defeated by a barbarian.
With his last ounce of strength, he launched a silver needle. Contrary to his expectations, the needle failed to pierce the man's body, falling gently like a docile leaf.
How could this be...
He stared in horror.
Xianyu Geng kicked out, creating a fountain of blood in the air. Yue Junshan fell to the ground in ruins, only to be caught by his mountain-like guards.
Yue Junshan vomited another mouthful of blood. "Wei..."
"It's not to save you, but for the honor of the Central Plains martial arts world." Wei Zhuofeng stared coldly ahead, "Dashan."
"yes."