Cui Xuanliang raged: “Who stole my coconut water?” The words were still in his mouth when he heard a “hey” sound as Little Fang quickly lunged forward and escaped behind the counter. Cui Xuanliang’s heart jumped, not knowing what had happened. Just as he was about to turn around, a palm suddenly pressed down on his head with a warning whispered in his ear: “Don’t move.”

Cui Xuanliang’s back went cold as if someone had pressed a knife against it. He stared blankly at the opposite seat, seeing Meng Tan’s terrified expression and Shangguan Meng’s face dramatically change, realizing some terrible figure must have appeared behind him. He dared not turn his head or flee. Slowly, he saw a palm reach from behind, five fingers spread, grasping a large coconut. Where the finger strength passed, the coconut’s hard shell slowly cracked, seeping juice. In strange speech, there was a loud “pop” as the hard shell exploded, juice flying everywhere. Meng Tan and Shangguan Meng cried out in horror at the sight. The person bent down and whispered in his ear: “How does this finger strength compare to the monks of your country’s Shaolin Temple?”

This finger strength that crushed coconuts was extremely powerful – in the world, only the “Tang Hand” passed down from Ryukyu and the “Mighty Vajra Finger” of Mount Song’s Shaolin Temple could accomplish this. Cui Xuanliang heard this person’s accent didn’t sound Chinese, making him even more afraid. He secretly glanced and saw someone standing behind him, chest clothing open, revealing a hairy chest. On the clothing was embroidered a symbol – eight-sided on the outside with three bars inside, looking like the character “three.” Cui Xuanliang was shocked and mumbled: “This… this thing looks familiar…”

The person bent down and whispered in his ear: “This is called ‘Oshiki Sanmon-ji’ – my family’s crest.” Hearing this, Cui Xuanliang felt thunderstruck as the earnest warnings of the Tianjue monk echoed in his mind. This morning he had personally seen an Eastern ship moored at the northern port with a flag bearing this very symbol. The Tianjue monk had said this was the family crest of Japan’s “Kawano Party.” They were said to have swordsmanship that crowned all of the East, had defeated Kublai Khan’s great army at Eagle Island, and fought with cruelty exceeding even the Mongols.

Koreans were frightening, but the Eastern people were even more terrifying. Cui Xuanliang’s teeth chattered, not knowing what disaster would befall him. While he was afraid, the person had already extended a hairy big hand into his bosom, first pulling out his handkerchief and copper coins, then finding two gold bars, but barely glancing at them before casually throwing them to the ground.

The hairy big hand gripped Cui Xuanliang’s skull and said calmly: “Where is it?” This was the end… Thinking of the key in his bosom, Cui Xuanliang’s teeth chattered as he realized disaster had struck. They say “an innocent man suffers for his wealth,” but what if this surnamed Cui tried to be clever and threw away that precious jade? What then? Cui Xuanliang’s eyes filled with tears as he lowered his head speechlessly. That voice said softly again: “Want to drink coconut water? I’ll crush more for you to drink?” Sharp pain shot through his skull as if gripped by iron pincers. Cui Xuanliang cried loudly: “Don’t want to drink, don’t want to drink.” The voice whispered in his ear: “Then where is that thing? You can give it to me now, right?”

This person’s Chinese was strangely accented, sounding doubly sinister. Cui Xuanliang was about to cry, only lowering his head and holding back tears: “If… if I told you I… I already lost the key… would… would you believe me?”

The voice carried a sigh: “In the East… every time a warrior loses something, do you know what his lord always says?” Cui Xuanliang shook his head crying: “I… I don’t know…” “Your head…” The voice turned cold: “The head you eat with – why didn’t you lose that?”

Cui Xuanliang was truly a mess of snot and tears, not knowing how he could be so unlucky. Just as he was about to cry loudly, there was a sudden “buzz” sound. Shangguan Meng straightened her waist and threw back her left hand, revealing a golden ring with razor-sharp edges already slashing toward the person behind Cui Xuanliang. Shangguan Meng had never displayed martial arts before, but her sudden move was truly accurate and vicious, every strike lethal. Suddenly, two loud clanging sounds rang out as cold light flashed in the shop – someone was wielding a blade toward Shangguan Meng. Cui Xuanliang suddenly felt his head released as the person behind him seemed to let go. Seizing the opportunity, he quickly lunged forward, turning in mid-air to strike with his palm, shouting: “Thunder Rising Strike!”

In the thunderous roar, the newcomer used “Tang Hand’s” rigid strength to battle the Eight Directions Five Thunder Palm. Both sides exerted full force – a muffled grunt was heard as the person’s feet wavered, retreating seven or eight steps backward, while Cui Xuanliang didn’t move a single step. In just one move, he had broken free from the opponent’s grasp.

Cui Xuanliang was no weakling – he was the son of “Flying Tiger” Cui Fengxun, protected by the “Eight Directions Five Thunder Palm.” How could this be trivial? He assumed the palm technique’s starting position, about to speak boldly, when he heard Meng Tan cry in great sorrow: “Meng! You silly girl!” In the trembling cold light, everyone could see clearly – two blades were positioned at Shangguan Meng’s throat. These were Eastern swords, what the Japanese called “ken,” positioned left and right at her throat, crossed like an X. With just a light twist, they could sever her head.

Both sides finally faced each other. In the guest shop, sitting and standing, were over ten Eastern warriors. In the corner sat two nobles – one was a bald monk quietly drinking tea; the other wore ancient Nara clothing with a family crest on his chest – the very “Oshiki Sanmon-ji.” At the back of the crowd stood a big man wearing a bamboo hat, arms crossed, an ancient tachi at his waist. Seeing his indifference to the situation, his martial arts must crown the entire scene, so no one dared command him.

This was bad. Though Cui Xuanliang had escaped danger, Shangguan Meng had become the opponent’s hostage and could be taken back at any time. Given Eastern warriors’ viciousness toward enemies, the consequences were unthinkable. With a “swish,” the two blades flashed. Shangguan Meng screamed and closed her eyes tightly, but the two blades had already been sheathed at the man’s waist with lightning speed. The warrior bent down, embraced Shangguan Meng’s slender waist, and nuzzled against her temple, smiling: “Shina woman…”

“Shina” was an ancient Indian name derived from “Mahajanapada,” meaning “God of Wisdom.” These two characters held no malice, but after reaching the East, they acquired many unspeakable usages, eventually becoming a contemptuous epithet. Seeing his fiancée embraced, Meng Tan was furious beyond measure and shouted: “Insolent!” He drew from behind, producing a headless short staff. With a sharp clang, the short staff transformed into a long iron rod, striking toward the warrior’s head.

This was “Iron Staff” Meng Zhongzhi’s signature skill. In his expedition to Annam, he had displayed great prowess, defeating the Li family generals decisively. But how much remained when passed to his son? Though they were more than a zhang apart, the iron rod could reach with mighty force. The warrior neither blocked nor dodged, only keeping his arm around Meng’s waist while lifting his foot, kicking off a wooden clog, catching it, then striking forward viciously.

With a loud “slap,” the wooden clog swept over, heavily slapping Meng Tan across the face. At this supreme humiliation, Meng Tan gaped, stepping back and touching his cheek as if disbelieving.

The Eastern warrior embraced Meng and smiled: “Shina woman, yours?” Meng Tan angrily said: “That’s right! She… she’s my fiancée!” The man smiled: “What name?” Meng Tan roared: “She’s called Shangguan Meng! Daughter of famous general Shangguan Yi under Emperor Yongle. Release her quickly! Otherwise when her father comes, your dwarf slaves will face endless trouble!” The warrior smiled and bent down, speaking in Shangguan Meng’s ear: “Shina woman, the man embracing you before your husband is named Kawano Yoshio… nicknamed ‘Seven Bodies Test’…” He hissed coldly while pointing behind: “That one is Kawano Ryusei… Fourteen Bodies Test…” As he spoke, he stared at Meng Tan with somewhat excited eyes.

Shangguan Meng was furious beyond measure, suddenly opening her white teeth to bite the man’s arm, drawing blood. Meng Tan roared in fury, raising the iron rod to strike the man’s forehead. Kawano Yoshio grinned and pushed Meng forward, making her use her head to block her fiancé’s killing move. “Watch out!” Cui Xuanliang saw the staff coming too fiercely and, fearing Meng Tan couldn’t stop in time, quickly pushed him away. But with a loud “slap,” a wooden clog swept out viciously. Meng Tan was heavily slapped again, his cheek swelling high with a clear shoe print left on his face.

Eastern warriors had so-called “kirisute gomen” privilege – if commoners were disrespectful, they could use wooden clogs to slap faces at minimum or draw swords to kill without trial at maximum. This was the warrior’s special prerogative. Clearly, he wanted to humiliate her husband before Shangguan Meng – only thus could he conquer two people in one breath. Kawano Yoshio smiled, his hand slowly wandering as if about to touch Shangguan Meng’s body – another warrior privilege, the strong’s privilege. Meng Tan’s eyes were wet and red, tears rolling in his eye sockets. Shangguan Meng also sobbed quietly: “Father, save me…” Kawano Yoshio smiled: “Shina man, want wife played by Kawano Party?” Meng Tan held back tears: “No… no…” Kawano Yoshio threw over a rope, pointing at Cui Xuanliang and chuckling: “Tie up your friend, save your woman.” Cui Xuanliang was shocked, Meng Tan also trembling: “You… you want me to tie him up?” Kawano Yoshio chuckled: “Yes, I want you to remember – tonight the man who made you betray shame is named Kawano Yo…”

Before “o” came out, there was a sudden “bang.” A figure moved with unparalleled speed, snatching up the wooden clog from the ground and heavily slapping Kawano Yoshio across the face. This strike used all his life’s strength, swelling Kawano Yoshio’s cheek sky-high, instantly turning from red to purple to blue. Shangguan Meng was yanked away by that person and pushed into Cui Xuanliang’s arms.

“Bastard.” The person spat on the ground: “Smoke Island’s number one fighting expert is here. Meeting me is your luck.” Everyone was overjoyed and quickly looked – the person squinted his small eyes with a stubborn expression. It was Little Fang who had acted! Righteousness often comes from humble people. Little Fang carried no blade and had learned no martial arts, but relying on quick eyes and great courage, he had gambled his life in an instant, viciously slapping that Eastern warrior’s face.

Kawano Yoshio’s cheek swelled with characters appearing. Little Fang examined the man’s cheek thoughtfully: “Jokamachi… Daisuke-ya… did you buy your wooden clogs there?” Everyone burst into laughter. Shangguan Meng covered her mouth with joy, Cui Xuanliang held his belly laughing, even Meng Tan forgot his recent humiliation and laughed until tears came out. A cough came from the corner as the bamboo hat man crossed his arms and said something in Eastern language. Kawano Yoshio pressed his hand on his sword hilt, wearing only one wooden clog, not taking it off, only limping forward. With a “swish,” the warrior sword gleamed in the air.

Kawano Yoshio was about to kill. The other warriors didn’t act together because this disaster was his own doing – he had to resolve it alone. Otherwise, he would have to commit seppuku to fulfill his warrior duty.

The opponent was murderous, but Little Fang wasn’t afraid, only walking forward to face him. Cui Xuanliang was shocked – he had exchanged a palm with Little Fang and knew this person had no martial foundation. He quickly said: “Little brother, absolutely don’t fight him. This person… this person is very formidable…”

Little Fang squinted and whispered: “Listen well – when I give the signal, take your two friends and quickly find cover.” Cui Xuanliang wondered: “Find cover? What do you mean?” Little Fang said: “Don’t worry about it – I’ve never lost a fight in my life. Just watch.”

The two were five steps apart – one holding a wooden clog, one holding a Japanese sword, gradually approaching each other. Kawano Yoshio looked extremely excited, holding the murderous blade and slowly approaching Little Fang. This was no joke – Kawano Yoshio called himself “Seven Bodies Test.” Even coconut shells could be crushed by his wrist and finger strength – with such power, his sword strike would surely be fierce. But Little Fang was an ordinary person – though he had somewhat greater strength and courage and was good at moving cargo daily, how could he handle a national warrior?

They walked closer and closer – five steps, four steps, three steps… Little Fang suddenly took three steps in two, rushing forward to viciously hurl the wooden clog in his hand. Kawano Yoshio’s eyes lit with joy as he roared “Baka!” and the warrior sword swept horizontally. With a “swish,” the tachi struck out as if cutting even the sky. Little Fang used all his nursing strength to desperately leap sideways. A muffled grunt was heard as Little Fang fell to the ground, while the wooden clog flew across the street, smashing through a second-floor window.

This throw had no aim whatsoever, and the protagonist had fallen to the ground. The fall was particularly heavy – he couldn’t get up for a long time. Kawano Yoshio smiled coldly, wearing his single wooden clog and limping to Little Fang’s back. With a sinister joy at the corner of his mouth, he slowly raised the Japanese sword, about to stab into his body. Cui Xuanliang was shocked and didn’t know whether to go forward to save him when Little Fang shouted wildly: “Everyone get down!”

Cui Xuanliang hugged Meng and Meng Tan, the three desperately drilling under the table. Just then, with a “boom,” a shadow flew over, striking directly into Kawano Yoshio’s chest. A series of cracking sounds were heard as this man’s ribs were kicked broken, then his body flew two zhang away, hitting the wall with a “bang.”

Everyone’s hearts shook, not knowing what had happened, when suddenly there was a loud “slap.” A figure appeared in the hall holding a wooden clog, striking powerfully and sending a Kawano warrior flying. Then a hand-blade chopped down, knocking another person to the ground. All the warriors were shocked and drew their swords, quickly retreating. The Japanese warriors were stirred up, and Cui Xuanliang, Shangguan Meng and others also looked horrified, quickly poking their heads out from under the table. They saw a handsome man standing in the hall, eight feet tall, naturally imposing without anger, carrying a stone coffin on his back – it was “Young Master Muzhong” Ming Guoxun who had arrived!

Ming Guoxun clenched both fists, roaring toward heaven with truly intimidating presence. Cui Xuanliang was surprised, afraid, panicked and doubtful. Seeing Little Fang crawl under the table, he quickly said: “How… how do you know this guy?” Little Fang whispered: “Look across the street.” Shangguan Meng blinked and saw a restaurant across the street called “Hanyang Spring” that sold Korean barbecue and the like.

Little Fang whispered: “I saw him this afternoon. This strange man was wandering around with a coffin on his back, then went over there to eat copper-plate barbecue. He looked extremely strange, so his martial arts must be high too. I figured it was a dead end anyway, so I might as well try a desperate gamble and threw the wooden clog over there.” Cui Xuanliang smiled bitterly: “How did you know he’d come over?” Little Fang whispered in his ear: “A Korean’s greatest hatred in life is being hit by Japanese wooden clogs.”

Just as they were talking, Korean voices came from the entrance. Five or six people entered, led by an elder with a dark expression holding a “Great Warrior God King Sword” – it was “Goryeo Scholar” Liu Juyong. Another had a Baekje sword at his waist with a half-smiling expression – it was “Baekje Master” Cui Zhongjiu. Seeing these three leaders arrive, Shin Yukbaek and other escort officials followed, everyone whispering, apparently still investigating why “Lord Huayang” was angry.

Korean Ming Guoxun was not to be provoked. Holding the wooden clog in his hand with fierce eyes, he was still searching everywhere for the clog’s owner, not knowing that “Kawano Yoshio” had already been kicked down by him and now lay on the ground spitting blood, life or death unknown. With Kawano Yoshio defeated in one move, this group of Eastern warriors had originally come to capture Cui Xuanliang but now found themselves attacked from front and back – Ming Guoxun inside, “Baekje Master” Cui Zhongjiu and “Goryeo Scholar” Liu Juyong outside. How could they resist now?

In the silence, the Kawano warriors slowly retreated into the hall until they reached a wooden table where a monk slowly stood up. He coughed and said in Chinese: “Lord Huayang, give this old monk some face. Let’s keep to our own business – let this matter end here, alright?” Ming Guoxun needed no translator and started cursing in gibberish. Cui Zhongjiu beside him said: “Master Itsukai, my lord says he’s still searching for Rong no suke’s whereabouts. If you have news of him, please tell us quickly.”

Cui Xuanliang and the others listened from the side, learning this monk was called “Master Itsukai.” They heard him reply lightly: “Benefactor Cui, please tell your lord – if this old monk had news of Rong no suke, wouldn’t I have captured him long ago? Why would I waste time here?” After Ming Guoxun heard this, he suddenly said a few cold words. Cui Zhongjiu maintained his casual nature, laughing heartily and translating: “Enough of this. Master, my lord says since we met by chance on the road, he’d like to invite you for a meal. Would you honor us with your presence?”

Master Itsukai sighed: “This old monk is a religious man and can only eat vegetarian food.” Cui Zhongjiu smiled: “Since Master can kill people, you can surely eat animals too. Why pretend to avoid meat? I think heaven values life – to avoid major conflict, why not honor us?” Master Itsukai said calmly: “Very well, those who want to invite me to eat, please come up.” Cui Zhongjiu chuckled, confident in his superior blade work and not considering the “Kawano Party” worth worry. Just as he was about to step forward, sand suddenly fell from the roof beams as a gray shadow descended from above, blocking Master Itsukai’s front. Cui Zhongjiu’s expression changed slightly as he retreated two steps, saying in a trembling voice: “General Yan?”

The Eastern main force had arrived – all mountain assassins skilled in ninja stealth and killing techniques. Their martial arts strength was surely enough to battle the Korean heroes. Suddenly with a “swish,” a warrior raised his blade to the sky with considerable presence, saying: “Descendants of the Ochi clan request instruction in Korean swordsmanship.”

Both sides were at drawn swords’ point. Ming Guoxun took a deep breath and stepped forward, apparently ready to fight personally. Master Itsukai sighed and slowly unwrapped a bundle from his back: “Lord Huayang, let me advise you – don’t oppose Japan… really… that won’t be profitable…” As he spoke, the bundle opened to reveal a blade of black jade crystal.

“Hokusho!” Suddenly, Cui Zhongjiu and Liu Juyong all felt their hearts shake and stepped back, hiding behind Ming Guoxun. Master Itsukai caressed the treasure in his hand, quietly chanting Buddha’s name. This blade had no handle, like an empty sheath, but the sheath body had hidden flowing gold like Sanskrit, with four characters inscribed: “Valley Spirit Dark Female.”

Ming Guoxun carried his stone coffin, clenched his fists, his pupils fierce as tigers. Master Itsukai remained silent, only hanging the Hokusho at his waist and walking forward. As the two heroes were about to meet, Cui Xuanliang watched with sweaty palms. Beside him, Meng Tan, Little Fang, and Shangguan Meng also stared intently, waiting to see the two nations’ masters duel. The “Lord Huayang” before them had many names – he was Korea’s top master, also called “Young Master Muzhong,” with invincible martial arts methods. As for this “Master Itsukai,” he had no fame and no one cared about his background, but with that strange weapon hanging at his waist, this person couldn’t be underestimated. The East was a land of swords and blades where warriors were sometimes merely servants of swords and blades, not their masters. So “Lord Huayang’s” real opponent was probably not Master Itsukai but this black “Dark Female Instrument.”

The heavy rain finally stopped. In the universal silence, only the sporadic sound of water droplets from the eaves remained. In the street’s quiet, footsteps could be heard approaching from the distance – more people were coming.

“Master… please don’t always be so gloomy…” a young voice said. “I’ll take you to a restaurant called ‘World’s Number One Spice Hall’ later. I heard it’s even spicier than our Sichuan hometown flavors… After you eat it, you’ll surely like it…”

These two came very quickly – their voices were clearly still distant, but hearing light footsteps, a sigh came from outside the door, barely audible, listless, as if nothing mattered, caring about nothing.

The newcomers’ speed far exceeded ordinary people. Ming Guoxun raised an eyebrow and Master Itsukai also shuddered slightly. Both involuntarily looked toward the entrance where an old man and young man had already appeared.

Cui Xuanliang looked at the white-clothed youth and couldn’t help being shocked, thinking: “Bai Yuntian?”

Amid Shangguan Meng’s shy exclamation, Bai Yuntian had arrived at the battlefield. This person was about twenty-three or twenty-four, handsome in appearance with a hint of arrogance, carrying Emei’s treasure “White Eyebrow Sword” on his back. As for the old man beside him, no one recognized him. He wore wide robes and sleeves, elegant and refined, with a hint of Daoist otherworldly qi, truly like an Emei feathered scholar. But for some reason, half his cheek was black, as if the heavens had tattooed his face as punishment, making him a “banished immortal from heaven.”

Bai Biyu had come – the Southwest’s number one master had arrived with great fanfare. He glanced at Ming Guoxun, then at the “Hokusho” at Master Itsukai’s waist, then squinted and said softly: “Yuntian… did we come to the wrong place?” With powerful enemies surrounding them, Bai Yuntian couldn’t help wiping cold sweat from his forehead: “No… this… this is the place…”

Bai Biyu nodded. He seemed to have not fought for a long time and felt somewhat hunting joy. He then opened his wide robe to reveal the wooden sword at his waist. The sword body was extremely rotten and broken, not worth using once or withstanding a single strike. Such a humble and useless thing – why not keep both hands empty with empty palms instead of a sword?