Chapter 811: The Sentimental Swordsman, Li Xunhuan

The cold wind is like a knife.

Ten thousand miles of flying snow.

The snow is about to stop, but the wind has not yet settled.

A carriage comes from afar; the rolling wheels crush the ice and snow on the ground, yet they cannot crush the loneliness between heaven and earth.

When the carriage reaches the end of the main road and faces a rugged path ahead, the burly man driving the carriage shouts and pulls on the reins to stop the horses.

This burly man has a face full of thick whiskers, and although his frame is already slightly hunched, his gaze remains as sharp as a goshawk's.

But as soon as his gaze turns toward the carriage cabin, it immediately becomes gentle.

"Young Master, the road has ended. The carriage cannot enter the small path; we must proceed on foot."

The carriage curtain is lifted, and two people step out. Leading them is a thin, middle-aged man with a refined face.

He is no longer young; there are white hairs at his temples, and the corners of his eyes are covered in wrinkles, each one seemingly recording a lifetime of hardship and misfortune. Even his eyes, once full of joy and vitality, often reveal an irrepressible weariness, yet he remains one of the most legendary figures in the pugilistic world.

A young boy follows behind the middle-aged man.

The boy is not very old, and his eyes are bright and agile.

"You wait here; I will go over there to take a look," the middle-aged man says to the iron-armored burly man.

"Understood, Young Master." The iron-armored man nods. He does not insist on following behind the middle-aged man, because he knows that the middle-aged man's martial arts are so profound and his experience so rich that there are almost no people in this world who can compare. Furthermore, when the Young Master strikes with his blade, he never misses; there are no exceptions.

"Xiao Kai, come with me," the middle-aged man smiles at the boy.

"Yes, Master," the boy nods.

The wind howls, mixed with goose-feather snow, and the bleak, cold snow drifts between heaven and earth. The boy's movements are agile as he follows closely behind the middle-aged man, his footwork actually faster and more nimble than many martial arts experts famous for their lightness skills.

The middle-aged man seems to have the intention of testing the boy's lightness skills; his steps appear ordinary and casual, yet he walks faster and faster, the scenery on both sides flashing by, and in the blink of an eye, he is dozens of feet away.

Seeing the wind and snow filling the sky and about to obscure his master's figure, the boy cannot help but feel anxious. He quickens his pace, pushing his lightness skills to the limit. But he is young after all, his internal energy is shallow, and his lightness skills have not been fully mastered; he steps on a patch of ice, immediately loses control, and falls backward.

Fortunately, at this moment, a large hand catches his.

"Careful."

The middle-aged man smiles slightly at the boy: "If you feel I am walking too fast, you can tell me. No matter when, never try to force yourself. Forcing yourself to do things you cannot do, or things you do not like, will not only harm yourself in the end, but may also implicate others. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Master."

The boy lowers his head and says: "Master, please walk a little slower; I cannot keep up."

"That is a good child." The middle-aged man walks through the snow, one deep step and one shallow step, holding the boy's hand just like that.

The boy turns his head and looks at the hand holding his.

This hand is very slender, but the skin is somewhat pale, as unhealthy as its owner.

But the boy knows that this is the most terrifying hand in the pugilistic world, a hand that possesses magic.

Any small blade in this hand can hit its mark with absolute certainty, without exception; countless underworld overlords in the pugilistic world have lost their lives to this hand.

Little Li Flying Dagger.

Third on the Weapon Manual.

What an honor this is.

And with the retirement of Tianji Laoren and the death of Shangguan Jinhong, these hands are now almost the best in the world.

"Master, where are we going?" About half an hour later, the snow has almost stopped falling, and a lukewarm sun has climbed up. The boy has a light sweat on his forehead and finally cannot help but ask.

"We are almost there." Li Xunhuan's coughing is drowned out by the wind and snow. After a moment, he points ahead and says: "It is right there."

The boy looks up and sees a manor standing proudly in the wind and snow. The manor is covered in white snow and seems to have been uninhabited for a long time, never cleaned.

"This is..." the boy asks in confusion.

"The most sensational battle in the world in years past took place in this manor," Li Xunhuan says in a flat voice.

"Master, are you talking about the battle between Shangguan Jinhong and Yu Liancheng from years ago!" The boy's eyes suddenly brighten.

Li Xunhuan nods.

When the boy looks at the manor again, he suddenly feels that this ruined manor is filled with killing intent—a killing intent colder than ice and snow, sending a chill deep into one's marrow.

Shangguan Jinhong, second on the Weapon Manual.

He founded the Money Gang with his own hands and, overnight, swept through the pugilistic world with the posture of an unparalleled overlord, intending to annex all other factions in the pugilistic world and dominate it alone. The Money Gang had experts like clouds, and within a short time, it became the most famous, powerful, and wealthiest large gang in the pugilistic world.

Shangguan Jinhong was ranked second on the Weapon Manual, and the only one who seemed able to contend with him was Tianji Laoren, who was first on the Weapon Manual.

But Tianji Laoren was already old; the Martial Dao is like rowing a boat against the current—if you do not advance, you retreat. Furthermore, Shangguan Jinhong had a terrifying helper, a shadow swordsman no less than the Flying Swordsman—Jing Wuming. Later, even Tianji Laoren himself admitted that if he had truly fought Shangguan Jinhong, the one to die would have been him.

Fortunately, there was still a Six Absolute Mad Guest at that time.

Fortunately, there was also a Flying Swordsman beside the Six Absolute Mad Guest.

That battle could be called soul-stirring, and it completely changed the landscape of the pugilistic world.

And the only people who could truly witness that battle were the four parties involved.

But the result of this battle was known to everyone.

Shangguan Jinhong died, and the Money Gang, a sect that was about to sweep through the pugilistic world, rapidly disintegrated.

And that 'Six Absolute Mad Guest' and 'Six Extremes Immortal Guest' also disappeared. Some say he followed the example of senior famous heroes like Shen Lang and went overseas to visit immortals. Others say he and Shangguan Jinhong were both severely injured and went into seclusion to recover. There are even rumors that Yu Liancheng went west and became the Demon Sect Leader...

But regardless, he has always been a legendary figure who shook the pugilistic world.

His battle with Shangguan Jinhong will surely go down in history and be sung by future generations.

Even though nearly ten years have passed, it is still full of legendary color.

The boy cannot help but ask in confusion: "Master, why did you suddenly think of coming here?"

Li Xunhuan is silent for a moment, his gaze also seeming to carry confusion, and after a long while, he says: "Because... because an old friend wants to see me here."

The boy asks who the old friend is, but Li Xunhuan shakes his head. It was just a sudden whim; he suddenly felt that the person was in this ruined courtyard and wanted to see him. This feeling was too mysterious and had no basis; if he hadn't been bored today and felt the urge to move, he wouldn't have driven such a long way to get here.

The boy, filled with confusion, enters the manor.

The manor is dilapidated.

A single withered plum tree.

Someone is admiring the plum blossoms under the snow!

……