"Sigh."

Housekeeper Gui, walking at the front, sighed and silently stepped back behind Bai Qi.

Indeed, what was meant to come, will inevitably arrive.

From the moment this young master mentioned sending gifts and attending the evening banquet, Housekeeper Gui had already anticipated this.

A decade ago, Hundred Rings Square was prosperous, with over four hundred martial arts halls lining the street.

Due to Young Master Bai’s master, almost all of them had their plaques removed.

Even the smaller martial arts halls that hadn’t stood out were forced to close due to the collective unity of the martial arts society.

The so-called "rules" are the "principles" that the vast majority agree upon and are willing to recognize.

In the past, martial arts halls were loosely organized and their members were scattered, like a headless snake or a lone tree, far inferior to the cohesion of grand families, mostly serving as mere thugs, picking scraps to barely feed themselves.

Thus, these martial artists established rules, forming their own trade, turning fighting and killing into social etiquette.

So that the martial arts community had its voice, making others hesitant to provoke them easily.

Defeating one is equivalent to challenging a hundred!

That’s how they became a strong force alongside the Pai Bang and the Thirteen Sects.

Unfortunately, Ninghai Zen emerged from nowhere...

Housekeeper Gui felt a chill in his heart, unsure of what to do.

Though the Seventh Young Master had instructed that no matter how big the trouble the two young masters Bai caused, as long as the He Family could bear it, they would handle it.

Yet, seeing the doors open one by one, and practitioners stepping out, he couldn’t help but feel a chill down his spine:

"In one generation, ten years! Ninghai Zen cut short the inheritance of a hundred families and blocked off an entire generation’s opportunities!

This enmity is not much lighter than the blood debt of the Thirteen Sects! How can the He Family bear it!"

In contrast to Housekeeper Gui’s retreat, Bai Qi’s expression was calm as he took a step forward, followed by another.

Just like that, he walked down the long street, unfazed by the unhidden hateful gazes and the sharp killing intent piercing like needles.

By now, night had fallen, nearing the late hour of You (7:30 PM), the last tint of dusky light sinking into the Nu Yun River, carrying a chilly spring breeze that brushed Bai Qi’s clothes.

The vast ocean of the heart, cultivated through the "Flood Dragon Consigning to the Yellow Springs Sutra," manifested fierce flood dragons several meters long.

Their vertical pupils were blood-red, their claws and fangs sharp, eager to gnaw their own flesh.

With his mind’s eye open, what he saw were large, black characters:

Kill, kill, kill...

Die, die, die...

Hate, hate, hate!

Almost overwhelming, like towering mountains!

Suffocating!

His ear awareness spread, capturing sinister shapes with vile intentions.

Like dogs, like jackals, like wolves...

Like insects, like pythons, like snakes...

Even more so, like ravenous gluttons eager for flesh and blood;

Valiant generals on horseback, sword in hand, killing in the wild;

And winged tigers flying with clouds around their arms and wind beneath their feet!

"There really are a few guys who barely pass."

Bai Qi’s lips curled, his mind unprecedentedly focused, capturing spiritual fluctuations coursing through the vast world.

Martial artists channel Qi blood, refine power, and temper the body.

After the third-stage skin cultivation, mind and intent align, every move harmonizing with the surrounding forces, elevating martial techniques beyond the mundane realm.

To be able to chop down mountains with a saber, cut rivers with a sword, with palm strength as mighty as a dragon’s rise, striking golden light!

A saying before the Tao’s demise goes, a man accused by thousands succumbs without illness.

Ninghai Zen, having achieved the fourth training great success, could glare the Heaven-defying Saber Water Thieves to death in one look.

For those sitting hall martial artists, mostly at the second bone training barrier, with a few breaking the third skin refining barrier, they may not reach that supernatural state, but the countless mental fluctuations along with the turbulent Qi blood form a vast stormy ocean that shocks the soul!

"Cultivating the Tao nurtures the spirit and resolves life and death. Cultivating martial arts focuses on bones, muscles, and skin, transcending to the sage realm.

Different paths, yet ultimately one destination... This long street’s third skin refining barrier, two start training the internal organs, one has just forged the ’golden body.’

Bai Qi lowered his gaze, silently slaying the fierce evil flood dragons, simultaneously dispelling the murderous intent directed at him.

"This young master has such profound calmness!"

Following behind, Housekeeper Gui had initially felt his heart pounding as if walking through a sea of flames and blades, but soon the bone-chilling murderous intent melted away into nothingness.

He stared in awe at the tall figure of the young man ahead, unable to help but admire:

"The master fought so that no martial arts hall dared to hang plaques, does the disciple also intend to silence Hundred Rings Square?"

...

...

At present, there are still two hundred and sixty-three martial arts halls remaining in Hundred Rings Square.

A decade ago, the further you ventured in, the more renowned the sitting hall masters became.

They were all skilled individuals, some even having achieved the Four Great Perfection Achievements.

At their peak, they had hundreds of disciples, commanding great influence, a force to be reckoned with in one district.

Even the major figures of the Thirteen Sects had to show them respect.

But now, the number still alive and breathing doesn’t exceed the fingers on both hands.

Intact and with their skills still present, it’s hard to gather enough to fill a hand.

Tonight, next to the Inheritance Hall, from "Qianshan Sect," slowly emerged a hunched, sparsely white-haired elder in black robes.

He appeared to be seventy or eighty years old, his steps shaky as if he’d collapse any moment.

Few would associate the "Primordial Thunderclap Hand" of Qianshan Sect with this old man.

Moments later, he appeared in the main hall of the Inheritance Hall, sitting across from Chen Xing.

"Elder Weng, staging such a grand spectacle to scare the juniors isn’t very honorable."

Chen Xing, with a messy mane and a strong build, cheerfully raised a teacup.