The road before the manor was not wide—less than two zhang across, paved with bluestone slabs. On one side stood the manor, and on the other lay the Qingqu River, with trees and flowers planted along the riverbank, their fragrance filling the air.
A wealthy merchant of Lingnan was a man of refined tastes, and the roadside flowers, plants, and trees were cultivated by the manor's servants. Whenever a flower withered, the servants would dig it up, bury it, and plant fresh blossoms currently in full bloom.
Though it cost a tidy sum every day, the wealthy merchant's family had money to spare.
Suddenly, a patch of blood splattered across the flowerbed, immediately followed by the frantic, crisscrossing flight of shattered sword qi, which mutilated the blossoms beyond recognition.
Even some of the precious trees planted along the riverbank were chopped down.
Using a maozhu bamboo as a spear, Fu Leisheng channeled his true qi into it and strode forward. This narrow road made it impossible for his long spear to sweep and thrust with grand abandon; the slightest carelessness would result in striking the houses or trees on either side.
Moreover, though he had studied the spear since childhood, he had spent a lifetime practicing and training without ever truly fighting in earnest—let alone engaging in a life-or-death struggle.
At this moment, the zhang-and-a-half maozhu in his hands executed only five most fundamental techniques on this street: piercing, jabbing, parrying, flicking, and vibrating.
The zhang-and-a-half maozhu vibrated, batting away strands of formless sword qi. Though those sword qi were swift, when struck by the maozhu spear they either flew upward into the high sky or shot off to one side, slashing into the wall to leave deep sword marks, cutting down countless flowers and plants, or plunging into the