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

Time flies, and in the blink of an eye, Meng Fei has been diligently cultivating in the backyard for more than two months.

That morning, as he was going to practice his sword in the backyard as usual, he was stopped by Old Li in front of the Moon Cave.

The old man rubbed his rough hands together, his voice hesitant: "Master, the remaining grain at home... is only enough for three to five days, you see..."

Upon hearing this, Meng Fei stopped and subconsciously reached into his robes, only to find his fingertips touching empty fabric. He paused slightly, then casually withdrew his hand and turned to look at the bamboo shadows in the backyard.

"I understand, I'll give it to you in a couple of days." He said calmly, but his steps had already turned towards the backyard.

In the backyard where bamboo shadows swayed, Meng Fei was not in a hurry to practice his sword.

Old Li's words were like a pebble thrown into a lake—he had been so engrossed in swordsmanship these days that he had forgotten he had run out of money.

If they don't find a way to make a living, let alone continue practicing swordsmanship, even the three of them will have trouble feeding themselves.

Meng Fei stared at the longsword in his hand, his determined eyes reflected on the blade.

In recent days, he learned a lot from Old Li about the evil deeds of the rice merchant surnamed Zhao. This man not only failed to cooperate with the government's relief efforts when refugees poured in, but also colluded with a group of unscrupulous merchants to hoard grain and drive up prices three times a day.

Thinking of the refugees who starved to death on the streets, Meng Fei tightened his grip on his sword.

That night, under a dark and windy sky, a dark shadow swept across the rooftops like a ghost.

Meng Fei lay on the rooftop opposite the Zhao residence, coldly watching the scene unfold. He saw several servants of the Zhao family casually tossing the corpse from the side gate into the corner of the alley.

This scene dispelled Meng Fei's last shred of hesitation.

Then, he drifted into the backyard of the Zhao residence like a falling leaf, stealthily moving in the direction of the accounting room.

Thanks to his two months of training, he quietly evaded the night patrol guards and sneaked into the tent.

The moment he pried open the accounting cabinet, he couldn't help but gasp. Inside, there was not only a pile of silver ingots and copper coins, but also a thick stack of IOUs, densely filled with notes from poor people who had mortgaged their land and even their children.

Meng Fei stuffed all the IOUs into his pocket, took half of the silver, and wrapped it in a cloth he had prepared beforehand.

Before leaving, he used a sword to write the word "thirteen" on the wall. The sword's sharp edge was enough to chill anyone to look at it.

The following day, after receiving the report, the yamen dispatched constables to investigate, but they were unable to find even a trace of the case.

Meanwhile, Meng Fei continued to practice his swordplay diligently in the backyard. The sword marks crisscrossed on the bluestone slabs, recording the arduous training he had undergone over the past two months.

A small figure appeared at the gate of the courtyard without anyone noticing.

Li Gou'er squatted on the threshold, his hands supporting his chin, his eyes following the sword light without blinking.

When the sword's momentum shifted and turned like a swimming dragon, a strange light would flash across his dirty little face, and he would unconsciously hold his breath.

The child was so engrossed in watching that he clumsily imitated the movements he saw with a twig he had picked up from somewhere, his small body swaying slightly with the rise and fall of the swordplay.

Meng Fei had actually noticed the child's spying long ago, but he didn't point it out. How could the Thirteen Deadly Swords be so easily discovered?

Those thirteen sword moves may seem simple, but each one contains a unique technique for generating power. Not to mention a child, even a skilled martial artist watching from the sidelines would only be able to grasp the form without the aid of sword techniques.

The sword's edge pierced the air, swirling up fallen leaves that shimmered with golden light in the morning sun.

Li Gou'er waved the branch in his hand wildly, staggering and almost falling, but he still stared intently at Meng Fei's wrist, trying to catch the mysterious trajectory of the force.

Meng Fei's lips curled slightly, but his swordplay became even more ferocious—some realms can only be comprehended by personally experiencing life-and-death battles.

But looking at the burning light in the child's eyes, he seemed to see another figure beginning to seek enlightenment in the way of the sword.

"Would you like to learn?"

Li Gou'er, who was still immersed in the exquisite sword moves he had just witnessed, did not notice Meng Fei coming to his side until the calm voice rang out. He was suddenly startled, a look of panic flashed across his face, and he looked at Meng Fei with a nervous expression.

Seeing the panicked Li Gou'er, Meng Fei did not urge him, but patiently waited for his reply.

"think!"

Li Gou'er nodded vigorously, his eyes shining brightly on his dirty little face, filled with undisguised longing.

Why learn swordsmanship?

Meng Fei stared into Li Gou'er's innocent yet determined eyes, as if trying to discern the reasons and character hidden within them.

"I've learned swordsmanship, and from now on I'll never let bad people bully Grandpa again! I'll protect Grandpa!"

Li Gou'er clenched his small fist, his tone carrying a firmness beyond his years.

Upon hearing this, Meng Fei neither praised nor commented, but a barely perceptible glint flashed in his eyes before he nodded slightly and turned to leave.

Watching Meng Fei's departing figure, Li Gou'er's eyes were filled with confusion and anticipation. Did he agree or not?

For the next month or so, Meng Fei would have Li Gou'er watch him practice swordsmanship every time. After he finished practicing, he would call Li Gou'er over and point out the basic movements he had just practiced, correcting his posture and power.

A month later, when Meng Fei was preparing to infiltrate another grain merchant's home, he discovered a suspicious figure leaving Fuwei Escort Agency.

Although the man was short, he was exceptionally agile, leaping down from the wall of the security company and quickly disappearing into the night.

Seeing this, Meng Fei tensed up slightly, immediately changed his target, concealed his aura, and followed behind the person.

Before long, the figure went straight out of the city and plunged into the dense forest outside the city.

Just as Meng Fei was intently tracking the figure, the figure ahead suddenly stopped, and a slightly hoarse, cold voice rang out: "Come out! You've been following me for quite some time, what is your purpose?"

Seeing that his movements had been discovered, Meng Fei hesitated for a moment before emerging from behind the tree where he was hiding.

By the dim moonlight, he finally made out the other person's face. Although the person was short, he possessed a refined and imposing aura, especially considering that this person had sneaked out of the Fuwei Escort Agency...

In an instant, a name jumped into his mind—Yu Canghai!

"You flatter me. Is it possible for you to walk this path while I cannot?"

Meng Fei's gaze was as cold as frost, and his aura had already quietly gathered.

"Hmph! You don't know what's good for you!" A cold glint flashed in Yu Canghai's eyes.

"I'd like to see whether your words are tougher or my fists are tougher!"

Before he finished speaking, Yu Canghai's short figure suddenly sprang up, swooping down like a hawk swooping down on its prey. His palm strike was fierce, aimed straight at Meng Fei's face.

This palm strike contained the pure internal energy of the Qingcheng Sect, and the strong wind hit him so hard that Meng Fei couldn't breathe.

Faced with this sudden and deadly attack, Meng Fei felt a chill run down his spine.

This was the first time he had fought a true master to the death since he began practicing the Thirteen Deadly Swords.

In a flash, he instinctively slid to the side, and his long sword was drawn from its sheath with a clang, like a venomous snake emerging from its hole.

With a soft "whoosh," the sword tip slashed through the night sky, aiming straight for Yu Canghai's wrist acupoint. This sword strike, launched after the opponent's attack, arrived first, with a tricky and ruthless angle; it was the first move of the Thirteen Deadly Swords.

Yu Canghai let out a soft "Eh," forced to change his move. He shifted his palm into a claw, intending to grab the sword.

Unexpectedly, Meng Fei's sword technique changed, the sword tip trembled and transformed into three cold stars, targeting his throat, heart, and dantian—three vital points.

"What bizarre swordsmanship!"

Yu Canghai was terrified and hurriedly took half a step back.

He had roamed the martial world for decades and had seen the sword techniques of various schools, but he had never seen such ruthless and precise moves. Every sword strike was aimed at the vital points, without any fancy moves, and was purely for killing.

Meng Fei was a bit awkward at first, but after a few moves, the subtleties of the Thirteen Deadly Swords gradually became apparent.

This sword technique seemed tailor-made for him; the sword moved at his will, and each move contained a unique technique for generating power. Wherever the sword passed, a chilling aura emanated, and it even drew visible trajectories under the moonlight.

Yu Canghai grew increasingly alarmed as the fight progressed. The young man's internal strength was clearly inferior to his own, yet his swordsmanship was strange and unpredictable.

Every time he thought he had grasped the sword's path, the opponent's sword moves would suddenly change, like a gazelle hanging its horns, leaving no trace.

Several times, the cold blade almost grazed his throat, startling him into a cold sweat.

"What kind of swordsmanship is this?"

Yu Canghai couldn't help but question him, his voice no longer carrying the arrogance of before.

Meng Fei remained silent, focusing entirely on his swordplay. The Thirteen Deadly Swords became increasingly refined in his hands, gradually transforming from an initial awkward response into a balanced offense and defense.

The sword light flashed like a ribbon, weaving a deadly net under the moonlight, trapping Yu Canghai firmly within the sword circle.

At this moment, Meng Fei truly realized the terrifying power of the Thirteen Deadly Swords – it was not just thirteen sword moves, but an art of killing!