From the beginning of Swordsman, he created a legend in the martial arts world.

"Peerless martial arts!"

Meng Fei's heart trembled violently, and his gaze was fixed on the center of the roulette wheel—the pointer was perfectly positioned, stopping right in the secret manual area.

In the instant consciousness swept across, the thirteen sword moves flooded into the mind like a tidal wave. From the sharp start of the first sword to the annihilating end of the thirteenth sword, each move contained the resolute sword intent to sever life and death.

He stood there, completely absorbed in this peerless sword technique, even holding his breath involuntarily.

"The Thirteen Deadly Swords... This is actually Yan Shisan's Thirteen Deadly Swords!"

After a long while, Meng Fei finally came to his senses, and a burning light flashed in his eyes.

This peerless sword technique, which even the Sword God Xie Xiaofeng found difficult to withstand, was now clearly imprinted deep within his consciousness.

Compared to the Evil-Repelling Sword Technique, which requires self-castration to cultivate, this pure and ultimate killing sword technique is the martial arts inheritance he truly craves.

"Knock knock knock—"

The sudden knocking on the door was like a bucket of cold water poured over Meng Fei, jolting him out of his ecstasy.

"Who?"

Meng Fei suddenly raised his head, his gaze sharp as a sword, looking warily toward the door.

"Sir...sir, I've brought you some hot water."

Seemingly frightened by Meng Fei's murderous voice, the waiter outside the door responded timidly.

Hearing the waiter's familiar voice, Meng Fei's tense nerves relaxed slightly, but he remained vigilant: "Just leave it at the door."

"Yes, sir." The footsteps outside the door faded into the distance.

Meng Fei carefully approached the door and opened it a crack.

After confirming that no one was around, he quickly brought the hot water into the room and locked the door again.

As he gazed at the rising steam on the table, the excitement in his eyes gradually subsided.

"It seems I can't stay here any longer. I must find a secluded place as soon as possible to concentrate on practicing the Thirteen Deadly Swords."

Meng Fei muttered to himself.

As his fingertips unconsciously tapped lightly on the table, he began searching his mind for a suitable place for seclusion—a mountain cave? A remote village? Or…

After breakfast, Meng Fei followed a broker to a residence near the Fuwei Escort Agency.

"Young hero."

The broker pointed to the courtyard and introduced it to the people with great enthusiasm.

"Although this residence isn't spacious, it's exceptionally quiet, and with the Fuwei Escort Agency nearby, ordinary thieves wouldn't dare cause trouble here. Twelve taels of silver a year is more than fair."

Seeing that Meng Fei was still looking around, he added another sentence, but his tone left no room for negotiation.

Meng Fei paced back and forth, surveying the courtyard. It was indeed small, but the backyard was secluded in a corner, with swaying bamboo shadows, making it an ideal place for focused cultivation.

As for why they chose the vicinity of Fuwei Escort Agency instead of a place far from human habitation, there was naturally a deeper meaning behind it.

Rather than fleeing to the mountains, it's better to lie low nearby—this way, one can secretly monitor the movements of the Fuwei Escort Agency and ensure that one can respond promptly when Yu Canghai attacks.

"This is fine."

Meng Fei spoke calmly, a barely perceptible glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes.

Upon hearing Meng Fei's quick agreement, the broker's face immediately lit up with joy.

"Young hero, you're too kind. I'll have someone clean this place right away, and you can move in tonight."

In the afternoon, after a brief handover, Meng Fei paid the landlord a year's rent and then carried a package into the courtyard.

Touching the money pouch in his arms, Meng Fei couldn't help but sigh, "The silver I've accumulated since transmigrating is almost gone so quickly."

The thought of living here permanently made me start planning for my future.

The next morning, Meng Fei followed the slave trader into a human market in the south of the city.

Since you intend to devote yourself to cultivation, someone will need to take care of the daily chores. If you have to do everything yourself, such as cooking and cleaning, how can you concentrate on cultivating the Thirteen Deadly Swords?

The market was dusty, perhaps due to the rampant presence of Japanese pirates. Many of the people there were refugees who had fled from the coast with their families.

Meng Fei weaved through the crowded streets, his gaze finally settling on an elderly man dressed in a faded blue robe.

The old man was about fifty years old. Although he was dressed in rags, he was protecting the seven or eight-year-old boy beside him very well.

Seeing Meng Fei stop, the old man subconsciously hid the boy behind his back, his wrinkled hands tightening slightly.

The boy peeked half his face out from between the old man's arms, his dark eyes filled with wariness, like a frightened rabbit.

"Young hero, you have a good eye."

The slave trader leaned closer and whispered, "This grandfather and grandson only cost three taels of silver. Don't let the old man's age fool you; he's quite healthy, and the little brat can lend a hand with the work."

Meng Fei examined the old man closely and saw that although he looked tired, his back was straight and his knuckles were thick, which seemed to be the marks of years of hard work.

Only after inquiring did we learn that they had fled from the coast to this place, losing all their belongings along the way, and were now at their wits' end.

The old man always stood half-in front of the boy as he spoke, and he hesitated for a moment before answering each sentence. His cloudy eyes held an unyielding wariness.

As evening fell, Meng Fei pushed open the gate of the mansion, followed closely by the grandfather and grandson.

The old man held the boy's hand tightly, standing awkwardly outside the door, not daring to step in rashly.

"Come in."

Meng Fei stepped into the courtyard first.

"This will be your home from now on."

He then led the two to the front yard and pointed to the east wing: "You can stay in this room. You only need to prepare three meals a day and clean the courtyard."

As he spoke, he took out a piece of silver from his pocket. "Take this money first, and use it to buy some grain and vegetables tomorrow."

After settling the two people in, Meng Fei went straight to the backyard, where he now carried a newly purchased longsword.

This is a steel sword that I carefully selected at the blacksmith shop in the west of the city. Although it is not a famous weapon, it feels solid in the hand and the blade has a cold, gleaming edge.

He lightly brushed the cloud pattern on the scabbard with his fingertips, recalling the words the blacksmith had spoken when he wielded his heavy hammer—"This sword may be ordinary, but it is most suitable for my hand."

"Clang—"

The longsword was drawn with a snap, its cold light reflecting the rising moonlight.

Meng Fei gently turned his wrist and slowly performed the first move according to the sword technique imprinted in his mind.

The sword tip slashed through the night wind with a slight hesitation, quite unlike the smooth, flowing movements described in the manual.

He held his breath and concentrated, performing each of the thirteen sword moves one by one. At first, his sword skills were unfamiliar, and his footwork was not in sync with the sword moves. Several times, he almost tripped over his own footwork.

But he was not discouraged. He repeatedly adjusted the angle of his strike, feeling the trajectory of the sword cutting through the air.

The moonlight gradually crept over the eaves, making his figure, as he wielded his sword, appear even longer and thinner.

Sweat soaked his clothes, and his arms began to ache and go numb, but his eyes grew clearer and clearer—the Thirteen Deadly Swords seemed simple and unadorned, but in fact they contained hidden secrets.

Each sword strike was aimed at the most vital points of the human body. What was even more wonderful was that the sword intent progressed layer by layer, becoming more and more fierce and ruthless as it went on. By the thirteenth sword strike, it already carried a hint of annihilation.

"No wonder even the Sword God Xie Xiaofeng couldn't withstand it..."

Meng Fei sheathed his sword and stood there, gazing at the slightly trembling blade as he muttered to himself.

Although he has only grasped the form now, he believes that given time, he will surely be able to bring this peerless sword technique back to the world. As for the Dugu Nine Swords, he will definitely test it on Mount Hua at that time.