Youthful Journey

"Dad, Uncle An, what are you talking about?"

As the strong man and the brocade-robed man were talking, the young boy trotted over. The strong man smiled at him and stopped talking. The brocade-robed man squatted down, stroked the boy's hair, and said with a chuckle:

"I was wondering what it is about Great Liang Village that could raise such a strong and valiant young man..."

Upon hearing this, the boy's eyes lit up, and he nodded excitedly:

"Yes, the books say this is what happens when ordinary families hide heroes."

The brocade-robed man cursed the writer inwardly but kept his composure, merely frowning as if puzzled, saying:

"Indeed. I just don't know who is more skilled, your masters or this young man."

The boy's expression faltered for a moment, then he said uncertainly:

"It should be... it should be the masters who are more skilled, right?"

"After all, the masters are older and more experienced..."

Hearing this, the man picked up his son, stood up straight, and laughed heartily:

"Where in the world do heroes determine their rank by age? In this day and age, there is the Saint of the Sword who, in his youth, whipped the world with a wooden sword, and there are also Confucian masters whose blood runs hot even in their twilight years. Since they are martial artists, then naturally, they must fight to know who is superior!"

"How about this: your masters, along with that young man, will all compete. Whoever can defeat everyone will have their monthly stipend doubled, and will be accompanied by fine wine and beautiful courtesans. What do you gentlemen think?"

As he spoke, he smiled and looked at the other six riders nearby. Among them were Daoist cultivators in white robes and jade crowns, as well as burly men with wine gourds hanging from their waists, dressed in patchwork robes. Upon hearing this, a hint of fervor ignited in their eyes. After a moment of silence, the Daoist cultivator coughed lightly and said earnestly:

"Although money and pleasure are external things, how can we, as martial artists, lack the spirit of competition? I am not talented, but I am willing to use my three feet of green steel to learn from everyone's exquisite skills."

A dwarfish old man beside him snorted coldly, his fingers tapping against each other, and chuckled:

"You Daoist cultivators, dabbling in women and money, aren't you afraid of damaging your cultivation? These worldly burdens, why don't you let this old man bear them all for you."

"That won't do, that won't do... You are old, don't cling to the mortal world."

The strong man watched the six men start arguing within moments, losing all pretense of being masters. He smirked inwardly, his expression calm.

If they weren't pretending to be gods and demons to please the young master, he alone could kill all these useless fools within thirty breaths, even with one arm tied behind his back. Their current squabbling was only because they knew none of them were particularly skilled, which allowed them to boldly compete.

It was like house dogs. Faced with a fierce tiger, they would tremble like sieves, but when they encountered a stray dog, they would bark incessantly. They relied on the power of their master.

He just wondered, what was the strength of that young man?

He fell into a daze thinking about it, but at that moment, the faint sound of chains jingling seemed to come from afar. Simultaneously, a faint but pungent smell of blood appeared. The strong man's expression changed slightly, and he sidestepped, shielding the brocade-robed man and the boy behind him. Meanwhile, the masters were still arguing amongst themselves, making a great racket.

The sound of chains gradually approached. By this time, the masters had stopped their dispute, listening to the slow melody of the chains, and felt an inexplicable unease. The man who had come to Great Liang Village to buy lumber earlier shouted:

"It's this sound!"

"Young Master Zhao, the young man is back!"

Zhao Xiujie's eyes lit up. He struggled out of his father's embrace and excitedly looked in the direction of the sound. The masters, seeming to feel that their previous unease had damaged their dignity in front of the young master, coughed lightly and put on airs of profound mystery. One of the burly men took a sip of wine and sneered:

"It seems the young boy who was chopping wood is back."

"He kept us waiting. So young, his strength is unknown, but his fanfare is quite grand."

As the sound of the chains grew closer, the smell of blood became even clearer. Unless their noses were cut off, everyone could smell the腥气 (xīngqì - fishy/bloody smell) in the air now, and their expressions could no longer remain relaxed.

The bushes outside the village, adjacent to the mountains, rustled slightly. A young man stepped out. He was not the burly figure they had imagined; he was somewhat thin, with a rather delicate face. He wore a blue short jacket, but the clothes were now quite torn and scarred, and even his cheeks had several wounds. Coupled with the chains on his body, he looked extremely disheveled.

The burly man breathed a sigh of relief and laughed heartily:

"Hahaha, little fellow, where is your tree? Did it fall in the mountains?"

The young man was slightly stunned, seemingly not expecting so many people to be here today. But since someone asked, he replied:

"Yes, it did."

It had indeed fallen in the mountains.

The man seemed even happier upon hearing this. He looked around and laughed heartily: "You cut yourself while cutting the tree? The smell of blood could be detected from afar. Young man, you're full of vigor, hahaha."

Zhao Xiujie's excited expression dimmed slightly. The brocade-robed man sighed inwardly.

No need for further provocation, with this appearance, he probably doesn't have much real skill...

Thinking this, his interest waned. However, the strong man's expression froze slightly, his gaze fixed on the chain the young man was holding.

Wang Anfeng was unaware of their thoughts and continued:

"Are you here to buy lumber? If you want to buy, I'll have to trouble you to come back tomorrow."

The Daoist cultivator looked at him and said faintly:

"We heard there was a young talent here and wanted to befriend him through martial arts. We didn't expect the rumors to be unreliable. What a pity."

With that, he flicked his sleeve and turned away, no longer looking at him.

The brocade-robed man pondered inwardly, thinking this was a great opportunity to advise his son not to be deluded by rural rumors. He then asked with a laugh:

"Little brother, since the tree is in the mountains, why come back tomorrow?"

As he spoke, Wang Anfeng walked forward slowly, the chains on his body jingling. Many of them extended from his right arm, pulled taut. With the boy's steps, a dark object was dragged out. Its sharp claws gleamed coldly, causing the man's pupils to contract slightly.

Wang Anfeng took another step forward, let out a clear shout, and exerted his strength. With a grating sound, a giant beast was slowly dragged out under the horrified gaze of everyone. It scraped obvious marks on the ground. Its physique was mighty, its claws sharp as swords. It lay on the ground, but it was far larger than the young man. Even with its eyes closed, a ferocious and savage aura emanated from it.

The atmosphere froze for a moment.

Pulling it out, Wang Anfeng breathed a sigh of relief, turned, and pointed at the giant beast, saying, "Because I have other things to do today."

The young man, originally in a short tunic and covered in wounds, looked extremely disheveled. Now, contrasted with the savage bear beside him, he exuded a compelling aura like an unblunted heavy sword, leaving people speechless.

At this moment, Zhao Xiujie had already approached the bear, his eyes wide with curiosity as he looked it up and down. Seeing the majestic bear's head, he reached out to grab it. But just then, the savage bear, which had its eyes tightly shut, suddenly opened them, struggled, and roared. The savage aura of a ferocious beast rushed towards the young man, its fangs sharp, and it opened its mouth to bite.

Everyone cried out in alarm, but at this moment, Wang Anfeng suddenly twisted his body. The chain around the bear's neck tightened with a loud clatter. He seized the opportunity to flip and land behind the savage bear. His body's energy erupted violently. The savage bear, which had just regained consciousness, struggled and roared in anger, but Wang Anfeng refused to let go, allowing it to smash the ground into pits with its claws.

For a full few minutes, under the silent gaze of the seven or eight villagers and companions, Wang Anfeng forcefully choked the savage bear, which weighed at least a thousand pounds, into unconsciousness again. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief. His body was also somewhat tired, and he wanted to get down but his legs felt a bit weak. He simply sat on the bear's back, chuckled lightly at Zhao Xiujie, who was pale with fright, and said gently, "Are you alright?"

Zhao Xiujie nodded dumbly, as if stunned. The burly man beside him also looked a little pale, swallowed, and said with a dry laugh, "Little brother... no, Young Hero... why didn't you kill this bear?"

Wang Anfeng shook his head. Recalling the words Mr. Ying had told him on the mountain, he sighed softly and said, "I practice fist techniques."

The burly man suddenly understood and said, "So you were lacking a blade, a sharp weapon."

"No, I was lacking an opponent."

The entire place fell silent. When the young man mentioned an opponent, he seemed to recall something. He raised his eyes to look at those few people who carried the demeanor of true experts, a flicker of light seeming to dance in his eyes, and said softly, "Did you just say you wanted to spar with me?"