Makeup Chapter 11

If the disciples of Sujian Mountain could shout out their inner thoughts, they would all say in unison: Why is it him?

The disciples were surprised to see Meng Shizhuang among the group descending the mountain yesterday, but when they turned and saw Old Hu there, they assumed it was Master Hu challenging Master Luo on this matter again. They could fight, since Master Hu could never get the upper hand over the Master, and he had to take the person back the same way he had brought him down.

So what if he bullied Meng Shizhuang? At most, he would keep a low profile for a few days. When he returned to the mountain, he could bully him whenever he wanted.

Who could have imagined that such a "decoration" would actually go on stage?

He usually walks around holding a sword, but if you kick him, he will lie on the ground for a long time and can't get up. Could it be that he really has hidden all his martial arts skills and endured humiliation for so many years?

"She got lucky. She picked Senior Brother Ke, so she can avoid being beaten."

Upon hearing this, Ah Wu turned around. It was Zhang Jun, his senior brother who had inducted him into the Purple Gold Hall. He had asked Hall Master Ruan to let him "see the world." He had no intention of reminiscing, but instead observed Meng Shizhuang, who had already taken to the stage.

This "Senior Sister Meng" was different from before. She stood with her head held high and her chest puffed out. She was actually about the same height as Ke Congzhou. Her sleeves were rolled up at the elbows. Ah Wu, with his sharp eyes, saw a wound on her forearm, which looked like a sword wound.

Even if the people in the mountains were teasing her, they didn't dare to use sharp weapons.

When Ah Wu thought of a possibility, he felt a chill down his spine, thinking that the retribution for aiding and abetting the evil was coming.

Old Hu stood up from his chair, gritted his teeth, and strode towards Luo Shun. He forgot the occasion, and his whole body was filled with rage. He had only taken a few steps when several other hall masters rushed to stop him.

The hall masters ignored Luo Shun and tried their best to stop him.

The head of Renxin Hall, who was of the same generation as Old Hu, whispered anxiously in his ear, "Brother Hu, Brother Hu! Calm down. It's just a competition. We're on someone else's territory. How can we start a fight among ourselves?"

"Yes, let's start from Zhou Shangtai. You know the character of the child you raised yourself! He won't kill Meng Shizhuang. Nothing will happen to him! After tomorrow, you can bring him back to the mountain safely."

Lao Hu pried open the hands that were pulling him and stared at Luo Shun.

Luo Shun smiled at him nonchalantly and said to the suspicious Fan Ji beside him, "Brother Fan, you don't know yet, but these two disciples were personally taught by the head of the Zhongyi Hall, Hu. They are the most outstanding disciples in our Sujian Mountain."

Fan Ji let out an "Ah".

Of course he knew Lao Hu.

Daohai City and several neighboring states all praised the Su Jian Jue as a miraculous art. After the death of the old leader of the Su Jian Mountain sect, its reputation gradually faded. Until ten years ago, the Su Jian Jue of the old guard revived its revered reputation.

In the final analysis, it is still based on the reputation of Fanlizhuangcheng.

At that time, Fan Ji was still a son. His father opened a "copycat" and acted like he had conquered an empire. He would never allow others to call him "young master" and was worried that "the emperor would die if he had a crown prince."

Fan Ji was not tired of it. After being on guard for so long, he really wanted to kill his father.

Fortunately, before he could do anything, his father took his own life and brought a hundred or so disciples to ambush at the foot of Sujian Mountain. They happened to meet Lao Hu who was returning to the mountain from doing some business, and the ten of them beat them to a pulp.

His father was carried back, but passed away within two days.

To be honest, Fan Ji actually wanted to thank Lao Hu.

As for fear, there was some, but not much. Haven't you seen that throughout history, those who survived to the end weren't always the best in the world? Like him, he couldn't even draw a heavy bow. So what? The most powerful person on the mountain was his guard, and he, a "fool" in martial arts, was the owner of the manor.

This time when he met the people from Sujian Mountain, he was even more certain that what he thought was correct.

Look at these disciples, they are all dressed in rags, like fighting cocks. Sujian Mountain was founded several years earlier than them, and they have allowed their disciples to become like this. What is there to guard against?

Fan Ji thought calmly, but his trusted subordinates did not think so.

Everyone was facing a formidable enemy, and they exchanged glances to remind each other to study the competition carefully.

And on the arena——

Ke Congzhou's mood was up and down. Suddenly he fell into an abyss deeper than a thousand-foot-high cliff, and suddenly he struggled out of the abyss, excitedly wanting to fly into the sky.

Ever since he saw Meng Shizhuang, his heart began beating faster and faster in his chest.

He always knew that the Master was taking care of the people in Keju.

But he never thought that his master was also teaching Meng Shizhuang martial arts.

He knew it from eavesdropping on the conversation between his master and his uncle when he was sick. His uncle hated him, and his master didn't want to take him with him at all. But because of his eldest disciple who died young, and because he couldn't stand his uncle's behavior, he had no choice but to keep him by his side.

So no matter how hard he tried, his master was reluctant to praise him; if he became lazy and decadent, his master would at most give him a disappointed look. For him, the treatment he received, like the one he received when Meng Shizhuang told him to "stand up straight," was even more of a luxury.

But he was secretly happy—at least, at least his master hadn't taught Meng Shizhuang martial arts. The wooden sword he had created was returned, and Meng Shizhuang spent the entire day dragging the sword around, a weight he couldn't even hold.

The lights in the main room of the Loyalty Hall often flickered on suddenly in the middle of the night. Ke Congzhou, asleep in the east wing, would sometimes spot the light while drowsy, pull up the quilt to cover most of his face, and peek through the window. If the window in Lao Hu's room happened to be open, he would see him angrily throw down his sword and slam the window shut as if to vent his anger.

You can tell at a glance that he's been upset.

But Lao Hu stayed up all night to teach Meng Shizhuang how to practice sword?

How to practice without a suitable weapon?

Ke Congzhou's chest rose and fell violently. Luo Shun said, "This is our most outstanding disciple from Sujian Mountain," and then nodded to the disciples below. As if on a hunch, he looked at Meng Shizhuang, who was empty-handed.

Meng Shizhuang only has one sword.

He could hear his own long, heavy breathing. He saw the sword he had touched for a moment reappear in his sight, then be handed to Meng Shizhuang. Ke Congzhou moved slightly, wanting to face Meng Shizhuang head-on. From this angle, he saw the agitated Old Hu standing behind Meng Shizhuang.

His eyes were full of concern, and he also looked at Meng Shizhuang.

At this moment, the sense of disappointment that frequently tormented Ke Congzhou became so intense that it became insane.

Several absurd thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant. He even wondered if Lao Hu had brought back the wooden sword because he thought he was still interfering with Meng Shizhuang's use of the plain sword.

“Bang—”

The gongs and drums in front of the stage sounded and the incense began to burn.

Meng Shizhuang stared at Ke Congzhou.

Logically speaking, he had seen Ke Congzhou perform many times on the Lingyun training grounds, so he should have the upper hand. However, he could also see that Ke Congzhou was the best in the mountain, so he rarely used his full strength.

Meng Shizhuang took a deep breath and lifted the plain sword. While the blade of his ordinary rusted sword was about the same length as the plain sword, its weight was incomparable. Without hesitation, he grasped the hilt, unlocked the hidden buckle, and slid the scabbard cleanly.

He only has one stick of incense.

Without even trying, he used his most proficient fifth-level "Canglang Style." This sword strike was incredibly fast, like a waterfall falling from a thousand feet, the first wave of water powerful enough to split rocks.

Ke Congzhou was startled by the chill that hit him, and even the movement of drawing his sword paused for a moment. He spun, turning sideways, and the sharp edge of the sword brushed against his nose, slashing out, only to tear the clothes on his shoulder. He immediately broke into a sweat and thanked himself for not drawing his sword to block it head-on.

But with a "clang" sound, Ke Congzhou took out both swords.

Meng Shizhuang became even more nervous - the opponent was indeed using two swords, and even if he had just entered the realm of two swords, he had practiced two more levels than him.

He quickly stepped back, the distance was too close, and it was even more difficult for him to use the long sword in his hand. Ke Congzhou naturally knew this, and followed closely for two steps, and with a clasp of swords, the "right sword" swept from top to bottom in the "sea-filling" style.

Meng Shizhuang held up his plain sword, blocking the "right sword." The "left sword" also used the "Canglang Style" move. He struggled to keep up with Ke Congzhou for a few "drum" sounds. When he was about to catch the "right sword" again, Ke Congzhou turned his hand away, and with great agility, he allowed the "left sword" to take advantage of the opportunity and sprint up from the lower right.

He had no choice but to bend down and withdraw his sword, leaving a bright red sword mark on his right arm. Meng Shizhuang didn't feel any pain. He supported himself with one hand, dodging the two swords coming from Ke Congzhou, and moved behind Ke Congzhou, still using the "Canglang Style".

Lao Hu could see it clearly from the side.

Meng Shizhuang's body hadn't fully grown, making him thin for his age, making wielding a plain sword even more difficult. In the past, when he taught Meng Shizhuang swordsmanship, he would pick up a suitable branch and let Meng Shizhuang practice. But there were also times when he couldn't help but give Meng Shizhuang his own long sword to teach him how to use it.

Ke Congzhou had a slight advantage, which could be attributed to his superior weapons.

Both men used the "Canglang Style." Meng Shizhuang's sword was colder and more powerful. If his strength or internal energy were a little stronger, it would have been a very standard and stunning move. However, Ke Congzhou's sword still had a softness to it, and the water on the sword tip was only about 30% sharp, lacking decisiveness.

Lao Hu's mind was focused on the two people's moves. He was so familiar with these two children that he could almost counterattack the second one as soon as the first one swung his sword.

“Bang—”

The gong struck again.

Meng Shizhuang looked and saw that only half an incense stick was left.

In that moment of distraction, Ke Congzhou's "right sword" rushed towards his neck, and his "left sword" pressed down on Su Jian, preventing him from raising it. Meng Shizhuang retreated again and again, and his heel was about to step on the edge of the arena.

His breathing remained rhythmic. Under Ke Congzhou's horrified gaze, his left hand reached out, firmly grasping the "right sword," tearing a soft, bloody ripple from his palm to the center of his arm. He firmly braced one foot against the edge of the platform, raised one toe, and flipped the sword. With a twist of his wrist, he grasped the hilt in a different direction, freeing himself from the awkward position of being unable to lift the sword.

The sound of cold, rushing water exploded in his ears. Ke Congzhou dodged but still felt a pain in his neck. He reached out to touch it, and his palm was wet.

This move is still the "Canglang style".

In the entire competition arena, the only sound was the sound of the two of them fighting.

Even Fan Ji straightened up unconsciously and squinted his eyes to take a closer look.

Could it be that Su Jian Shan's approach to educating his disciples has a deeper purpose? Is it the sage's ideal of "torturing their minds and starving their bodies"?

Ke Congzhou was forced to retreat repeatedly by Meng Shizhuang's "Canglang Style" sword strikes. He tried to raise his sword to block, but a sharp sound came from the place where the two swords met, and then a very bright white light splashed out. He moved faster than his brain and dodged with the side of his face. When he looked back, he saw that the "left sword" that was originally flawed had even its tip cut off.

He was horrified and personally experienced the power of a magical weapon "cutting iron like mud".