The First Venerable of the Prosperous Age

Everything should have a beginning and an end. Before figuring out the identity of this gray-robed man, Chang'an didn't plan to go anywhere else.

He followed the group of people, crossed the golden road, and stepped onto the Red Tail.

That's the road leading to the training ground.

"The martial arts arena again? Those two homeless men caused trouble there last time. I wonder what they'll do this time."

As Chang'an thought this, the images of the two strange people slowly emerged in his mind, as if those things had just happened yesterday.

The same crowd gathered, and the same senior brother was in charge.

However, the main characters on the field this time are two disciples of the Three Venerable Palace.

Chang'an mingled in the crowd, consciously covering his face, and slowly squeezed to the front.

In the center of the platform, a tall, upright man with an upright demeanor bowed and said solemnly, "Junior sister, you flatter me."

The girl opposite him, holding a red-tasseled spear, was supporting her slender waist and breathing heavily.

She waved her hand gently, her cheerful smile tinged with helplessness and resentment. "Senior Brother Feng is indeed formidable, but I won't lose to you again next time."

"It seems that Senior Sister Amei is still half a move behind."

"Yes, Senior Brother Feng's martial arts have improved greatly in the past two years. Among our generation of disciples, I am probably the only one who can exchange a few moves with him."

"Tch, even Senior Sister Amei couldn't beat him. If you went up there, you'd be beaten to a pulp, not even leaving your underwear behind."

Hearing the disciples' murmurs, Chang'an felt quite relieved and was about to go and greet them when he heard the wiry middle-aged man sitting on the high stone chair say loudly:

"Who else?"

The audience was silent.

"If no one else dares to step up and compete, then the winner of this martial arts tournament will be Feng Chi."

The resounding voice clearly reached the ears of everyone in the audience.

"Tsk tsk tsk, full of energy! It seems Senior Brother Zhang has recovered quite well." Chang'an squinted and looked around at Senior Brother Zhang's surroundings. There were identical stone chairs, but no one was sitting on them.

Chang'an thought to himself, "It seems that only Senior Brother Zhang and I can witness Senior Brother Feng's victory this time."

Just as everything was about to settle down, a man slowly walked onto the stage, walked up to Feng Chi, and walked up to everyone.

"The man in the grey robe!"

Chang'an's heart jumped again. He immediately forgot about the long-awaited reunion. Now, he was afraid that only if the gray-robed man revealed his identity could he appear with peace of mind.

Feng Chi clasped his hands in a respectful greeting. "My name is Feng Chi..." He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "May I ask who you are, Junior Brother..."

The gray-robed man sneered, "Junior brother?"

"Who goes there? State your name!" Senior Brother Zhang demanded sharply, only to be met with a contemptuous look from the man in gray robes.

"You really don't recognize me?"

His words stunned both Chang'an and Senior Brother Zhang.

"Fine, I came here to win anyway, not to reminisce with you."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the gray-robed man stepped forward, his vicious iron claws aimed straight at Feng Chi's face.

Caught off guard, Feng Chi leaned back hastily and then kicked three times into the air.

He braced himself with his palms, just as he usually did when running, kicking faster and faster until he left an afterimage.

The man's fierce and swift footwork made him hesitant to approach easily.

When Feng Chi stood up again, the gray-robed man had already retreated to a distance. Feng Chi was now fully prepared to fight and was unwilling to let this unethical person go.

He rushed forward like the wind, but instead of delivering a kick aimed at the head, he suddenly turned and kicked several times in eight different places around the body from the side.

After barely managing to defend himself, the gray-robed man was about to withdraw when he felt a gust of wind howling around him, and he could only catch a few afterimages flashing by.

"Truly lightning fast, so fast!" Chang'an exclaimed, seeing the overlapping shadows of legs in the arena, all striking the gray-robed man.

How fast is that kick? If the gray-robed man tries to block one kick, the next one could land directly on his face.

So he is now kneeling on the ground, his left arm protecting his head to minimize the damage, while his right arm is hidden under his body, and it is unknown what he is planning.

But he was beaten to his knees after all, and the disciples below cheered him on.

But Chang'an frowned slightly, because he noticed that Feng Chi's speed was getting slower and slower, while the gray-robed man had not fallen down.

Feng Chi had fought many battles and was exhausted, so his condition wasn't surprising. But who exactly was this gray-robed man? How come so many kicks had almost no effect on him?

Feng Chi also noticed this. If his next attack didn't have a significant effect, he would undoubtedly lose.

In that instant, the wind suddenly stopped, and Feng Chi abruptly halted in front of the gray-robed man, his fist already poised to strike his opponent in mid-air.

This punch, a premeditated punch, was indeed faster and more ruthless than the previous kick.

There was no way the gray-robed man could dodge this punch; all he could do was catch the punch that was about to disfigure him.

"Watch out! That guy has a trick up his sleeve." Chang'an thought to himself, and sure enough, as Feng Chi threw his punch, the gray-robed man's hidden right arm also reacted.

"Oh no, we might be blocked."

But Feng Chi's fist spun rapidly in the air, quickly bracing itself on the ground, then his feet came together and kicked out at the gray-robed man's face.

Although this kick was not as fast or as unexpected as the punch, the gray-robed man had already abandoned the idea of ​​dodging from the moment he prepared to draw his right arm.

He might have been able to catch the previous punch, but how could he possibly catch this powerful kick with just one hand?

Now that things had come to this, even Chang'an couldn't help but cheer for Feng Chi.

"Bang!" The thunderous foot didn't hit the gray-robed man's face, but was firmly grasped in his hand.

That was the gray-robed man's right hand, a prosthetic hand made of pure steel, which was why he was able to grasp it...

Feng Chi tried to pull his foot out, but the other person's hand was like a steel clamp, not moving an inch.

Right now, many people in the audience share the same expression as Feng Chi: shock, confusion, and a slight sense of panic...

"You... how could you? Who... who are you?" Feng Chi gasped for breath.

The man in gray robes seemed to chuckle slightly. "Nephew, why don't you recognize me?"

"Junior disciple?!"

Then, a flash of cold light appeared, and the sword was drawn, drawing a graceful arc in the air.

The man in the gray robe held his sword in one hand, elegant and casual.

The sword struck Feng Chi's right shoulder diagonally and flew out with a whoosh.

Chang'an then understood, "So this guy had been hiding his sword under his robe all along. When Feng Chi kicked him from behind, he would hold the sword at an angle behind him to block most of the kick's force. The same applied to the front. That's why he was able to stand up the whole time."

"Junior Nephew Feng is almost exhausted, while he only needs to move his sword under his clothes. No wonder... Wait, Junior Nephew Feng, could it be that he?!"

The gray-robed man wielded his sword with lightness and agility, managing to push Feng Chi back while maintaining elegance.

"This is... the Underworld Flower Divine Sword!!!"

"There's no mistake, this is the sword technique that the masked woman used against Master Zhang three years ago!"

The disciples below the stage gasped in surprise, and even Senior Brother Zhang's face was now clouded with gloom.

The gray-robed man pointed his sword at Feng Chi, who was lying on the ground, and laughed smugly, "Nephew, you've made great progress in three years."

Feng Chi's pupils dilated. "The Nether Flower Divine Sword, you...you really are...Junior Uncle Chang'an??"

The gray-robed man nodded. "I have returned this time to reclaim what rightfully belongs to me."

Chang'an, sitting in the audience, chuckled. "If the person behind the mask also has a handsome face like mine, then I'll really have a headache for a few seconds."

"Chang'an? Isn't that a place name?"

"No, that's a person!"

"Three years ago, Junior Uncle Chang'an went to Qiantang to help people infected with the plague. He never returned, and we... all thought he was dead..."

Listening to the disciples' discussions, Chang'an half-covered his face and casually asked the disciple beside him, "What will the winner of this competition get? I was too drunk that day and don't remember anything now."

"How could you forget that? The winner of this competition can become a disciple of Master Kang and receive his personal instruction."

Chang'an finally understood, "No wonder this imposter said he wanted to take back something...that rightfully belonged to him."

Senior Brother Zhang snorted, "Are you really Junior Brother Chang'an?"

“That’s right,” the gray-robed man replied.

"Then why don't you show your true face?" Amei asked anxiously from below.

"Hmph, you'll soon find out the reason."

After saying that, the gray-robed man sheathed his sword, faced the disciples below, and said loudly, "Who else wants to come up and try their skills with my martial uncle?"

Feng Chi struggled to his feet, clutching his bleeding wound, his expression complex, but most prominent was the joy of a long-awaited reunion.

Feng Chi's lips opened and closed repeatedly, hesitating for a long time before finally saying, "Since you are my junior uncle, then I have even less reason to attack you..."

After he finished speaking, he bowed solemnly and slowly stepped down from the stage.

Watching the figure speed away from the stage, Chang'an was so moved that tears almost streamed down her face...

He knew that Feng Chi could have won, but after seeing the Netherworld Flower Divine Sword and guessing his identity, he suddenly lost his will to fight and thus lost the match.

Can the wounded Feng Chi really defeat the Minghua Divine Sword?

No, even ten wounded Feng Chis couldn't defeat the Nether Flower Divine Sword.

Chang'an thought this way because he knew that the Dark Flower Divine Sword wielded by the gray-robed man was fake.

But this "fake" couldn't have appeared out of thin air. He needed to figure out exactly where this fake lay, where it came from, and who else was behind this gray-robed man.

He needs the gray-robed man to show off a few more moves.

Now, the gray-robed man shouted on the stage once again, "Uncle will not use excessive force. All of you are welcome to come up and spar."

"Let me test your skills!" Amei raised her spear to attack, but the gray-robed man sneered, "If I remember correctly, no one is allowed to lose twice in this tournament."

“But…” Although A-Mei was anxious, she could only stomp her feet and remain silent in rebuttal.

At this point, the audience fell completely silent. It seemed that his fake Netherworld Flower Divine Sword had indeed deterred some people from committing any further insubordination.

Chang'an smiled wryly, "It seems that I have no choice but to go up and meet him myself."

"However, I need to disguise myself so that if I am recognized, he will refuse to perform the fake Nether Flower Divine Sword for me and reveal the truth to me."

He slowly withdrew from the crowd, intending to smear some dirt on his face, but inadvertently discovered the Taoist priest in green robes who was fast asleep behind the crowd.

Suddenly, all around became quiet, and the Taoist priest nervously opened his eyes.

Chang'an was overjoyed, and even his mind became much sharper.

He cleared his throat and shouted, "Didn't Master Wang say that he was incredibly skilled and could beat that Uncle Chang'an to the ground?"

This statement caused an uproar.

"Yes, yes! He was telling me yesterday, something like... it's a pity that Uncle Chang'an is no longer here, otherwise I could kick him around like a ball every day!"

"Yeah, yeah, Uncle Chang'an is up there right now, why don't you hurry up and go!"

The effect was surprisingly good; it's unclear whether it was because it was all real or because Wang Xiaofan had too many enemies.

In short, the scenario of "one person calling out, ten thousand responding" has been realized as desired.

Chang'an thought to herself, "Looks like I guessed right, but what I didn't expect was that this brat would say it every single day!!!"

Wang Xiaofan, who had been uninvolved, suddenly became the target of everyone's criticism, and was naturally completely bewildered.

He looked left and right, and finally sighed. He picked up the whisk from the ground, dusted himself off, and, pushed by the crowd, went to the place he least wanted to go.