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South of Qizhou City, the unruly Baimang River spewed white foam, rolling up countless large and small whirlpools, leaping and crashing through the hundreds of thousands of wild mountains, roaring at the top of its lungs, and passing through the mountains like a madman.

The Baimang River stretches for thousands of miles, and goose feathers sink into the water. Only thirty miles south of Qizhou City, where the Baimang River merges into the Dalong River, does this brutal and unruly river seem to have exhausted all its strength and become calm here. The clear water of more than a hundred miles is quiet and beautiful.

Before daybreak, the mouth of the Baimang River was already dotted with sails. The fishermen from the three fish restaurants on the riverside got up early and rowed their own or rented fishing boats out into the river, busying themselves with big and small nets and large and small hooks.

At daybreak, the river surface between the three fish restaurants was crowded with fishing boats returning with full loads.

Countless fishermen squatted on the bows, holding large bowls, drinking the fish soup that their wives had just cooked, and greeted acquaintances in a loud voice. In the distance on the river, with the sound of "Eh Nai", the shadows of sails quickly approached, and more fishermen returned.

Countless fishing boats were crowded together, but not a single one came ashore.

At the fish market pier on the shore, the stewards of the mansions of high-ranking officials in the city of Qizhou and the purchasing agents of various restaurants and hotels, all dressed in gorgeous clothes of silk and satin, sat in teahouses pretending to drink coarse tea and killing time in boredom.

In a three-story mansion on the edge of the fish market, Chu Tian, ​​sweating profusely in a pair of cownose trousers, gasped for breath, took strange steps one by one, his left palm rising and falling at his side in a strange posture, and in his right hand he held a two-and-a-half-foot-long, ancient-colored, extremely heavy bronze eight-sided sword, and he stabbed out with the sword very slowly, one by one.

Every time the sword thrust out, Chu Tian felt like sugarcane in a juicer, with sweat suddenly breaking out all over his body.

Drops of sweat kept sliding down his bronze skin and dripping onto the ground, leaving a clearly visible circle of sweat stains on the yellow sand training ground, which quickly dried up in the morning breeze.

"Three thousand five hundred and ninety-nine... three thousand six hundred!" Chu Tian stabbed out with the sword very slowly. His body stiffened for a moment. He suddenly opened his mouth and a stream of white gas shot out like an arrow for seven or eight feet away. It stagnated for three breaths in the morning breeze before slowly dissipating.

There was a faint roar of a tiger coming from his chest, and the air around Chu Tian suddenly blew up, and the yellow sand under his feet spread out seven or eight feet away in all directions, forming a clear circle with a diameter of more than ten feet on the ground.

With a flip of his hand, the bronze eight-sided sword was tightly clasped on a cowhide arm guard on his right arm. Chu Tian walked to the square well in the corner of the martial arts training ground, fetched a bucket of water, and poured it down his head.

Shaking his head vigorously, Chu Tian gritted his teeth, trying hard to forget the horrific scenes from last night's dream that remained in his mind: dripping blood, a broken body, a sharp knife light falling on his head, and the one-armed man with a purple, square face full of righteousness grinning at him.

"It's been almost eighteen years. What the hell is this?"

The side door of the martial arts training ground opened, and several big men with thick arms and legs and faces full of flesh, wearing blue cloth and tight clothes, with their chests exposed, showing a tuft of black hair on their chests, walked in with brooms and long-handled sieves. They bowed to Chu Tian, ​​and without saying a word, they cleaned up the martial arts training ground, sweeping the yellow sand full of footprints and sweat stains until it was as flat as a whetstone.

Chu Tian wiped the water stains off his body, grabbed a green cloth gown hanging beside the square well and put it on, tied a pink hydrangea in his hair, and grinned at his reflection in the light of the well water.

His eyebrows were as sharp as swords, his face was square, and several scars of varying lengths on his slightly dark complexion concealed the last trace of his childishness.

Chu Tian smiled at his reflection narcissistically: "He's quite handsome! But his skin isn't white enough, no wonder I have to spend money every time I go to listen to the music."

Two muscular men brought over a big pot, which was filled with the fragrant fish soup made from the small silver fish, a specialty of Baimang River. There were a dozen cornmeal cakes hanging on the edge of the pot. Half of the cakes were soaked up with fish soup and roasted crispy in the iron pot. The sweet smell came to his face. Chu Tian, ​​who had just finished his morning class, sniffed suddenly, sat directly on the curb of the square well, and started to eat.

After devouring half a pot of thick soup and more than five pounds of cornmeal cakes, Chu Tian raised his head and asked the two men, "Where are Ah Gou and Ah Que? Didn't I hear them come back last night?"

The two men bowed to Chu Tian and then answered, "Brother Gou sent a message back last night. He found a pack of big blue wolves in the mountains and is trying to tame them. He probably won't be back for three to five days."

Giving Chu Tian an awkward look, the big man said with a hint of envy and helplessness, his voice suddenly lowered by three tones: "Brother Que, didn't Widow Tian leave the door open for him last night?"

Chu Tian was stunned, the pink hydrangea in his hair shook, and suddenly he looked up to the sky and sighed.

He lowered his head and cleaned up the pot of fish soup without leaving a drop. After patting his belly, Chu Tian stood up, casually pulled out a stick made of iron and wood from the weapon rack in the martial arts training ground, put it on his shoulder, and strode out.

There were seventeen or eighteen strong men with arms that could run horses and fists that could stand people. They were all big and strong, about eight to nine feet tall, with faces full of flesh and scars. They were obviously not good people. They were holding the same iron and wooden sticks that reached their eyebrows. They followed Chu Tian in a heroic and proud manner, strode out of the yard, and walked along the bluestone paved road towards the fish market pier.

Many people along the way saw Chu Tian and his group, and they hurriedly bowed and saluted from a distance, loudly calling them "Chu Dangtou".

Chu Tian smiled and greeted passers-by along the way, saying hello to them from time to time.

"Oh, Old Luo, don't your arms hurt these past two days? Why did you mend the fishing net? Come on, I have a bottle of wind-chasing wine soaked in tiger bones. Come and get it from me later!"

"Hey, Aunt Qian, are you drying fish? Why don't you see my eldest sister? Oh, by the way, that guy named Xiao Zhao who works at the oil mill in Qizhou City is a very honest and solid man. He doesn't gamble or visit prostitutes, and he's the most family-oriented person. I'll help you two families make peace tomorrow."

"You damned Zhong Dagou, how dare you come back? Your mother almost starved to death at home a few days ago! Don't run, catch this guy for me. I told you last time that if you go to Jizhou City to gamble again, I will break your legs!"

A middle-aged man with a rat-like face just turned out from the street corner. He suddenly saw Chu Tian and was so scared that he turned around and ran. He ran so fast that his feet slipped and he fell to the ground with a "bang" and was half dead.

Before Zhong Dagou could stand up, two of the sturdy men behind Chu Tian had already arrived in front of him and stomped on his back with their big bear-like feet. Zhong Dagou screamed at the top of his lungs, clawing and crawling on the ground with his hands, screaming like a ghost. Mobile users please visit m.Read for a better reading experience.