Hebei, Cangzhou.
The Baji Sect.
It was Lunar New Year's Eve, a festive occasion, yet there was not a trace of merriment inside or outside the Boxing School.
The cold wind howled over the blanket of white snow.
Over the past three to five days alone, at least thirty or forty factions from the Northern and Southern Martial Arts World had arrived and entered the courtyard.
The once-spacious front courtyard was now filled with chairs, every seat occupied.
Not only that, plenty of people stood all around, inside and out.
A rough glance put their number at over a hundred.
Among them were Grand Boxers renowned throughout their regions, martial elders long retired from the martial world, formidable experts who had once dominated their territories, and the leaders of various sects.
Three large chairs occupied the seats of honor.
Two old men and a middle-aged man sat in them.
Xu Tian sat upright in the middle, flanked by representatives of the Xingyi Sect and the Eight Trigrams Sect.
The old man representing the Xingyi Sect had a purplish, square face, gray eyebrows, and white hair, yet his frame was rather lean. Dressed in a gray padded robe, he sat with his hands tucked into his sleeves, his eyes closed and his mouth shut. The middle-aged man representing the Eight Trigrams Sect leaned against his chair, looking rather indolent, but his eyes were bright as they roamed. With one foot touching the ground, he held the posture of a dragon soaring into the sky, yet his waist and hips were lightly lifted, giving him the aspect of a monkey. He was clearly a martial master proficient in both Xingyi and Bagua.
He was none other than Gong Wuer's second uncle, Gong Qitian.
Across from the three, every seat was filled amid