Linghu Chong, the Huashan Sect's eldest disciple, wielded impressive swordsmanship and inner strength, standing out among the Five Mountains Sword Sect's younger generation. Yet, his opponent, Tian Boguang, was a first-class master, rivaling sect leaders and elders. As a junior, Linghu Chong's defeat was no surprise.
Alex observed their duel, captivated by the clash of steel. Tian Boguang's lightning-fast knife strikes and Linghu Chong's fluid swordplay sparked his enthusiasm. Though Alex commanded Magneto's genes, manipulating metal from afar like a sorcerer, he lacked skill in close combat—a gap this duel highlighted.
Still, his D drive's limited capacity demanded selective skill copying. Linghu Chong would soon master Dugu Nine Swords, the pinnacle of swordsmanship in the world of The Smiling, Proud Wanderer, its moves endlessly adaptable. Learning it himself? Alex wasn't a prodigy like Linghu Chong. Better to wait, let Linghu Chong perfect it, then copy it directly.
The duel grew dire. Linghu Chong bled from seven or eight wounds, spared only by Tian Boguang's mercy. Without restraint, the rogue's blade would've claimed his life.
To secure a future chance at Dugu Nine Swords, Alex saw an opportunity to befriend Linghu Chong. With a flick of his finger, a black blood needle shot toward Tian Boguang, its poisoned tip a blur.
"Who dares attack me?" Tian Boguang, a master's senses sharp, felt the assault. His knife flashed, cleaving the needle mid-air. Whirling, he glared at Alex, fury in his shout.
Linghu Chong, battered but resolute, refused to exploit Tian Boguang's distraction. "Hey, Brother Tian, our duel's not finished," he called, puzzled by Alex's aid but protective. Young and outmatched, Alex seemed no match for Tian Boguang.
"Tian Boguang, you're skilled, but your crimes—violating women, sowing misery—are unforgivable," Alex declared, rising and slowly drawing his fine steel sword. "Today, I'll purge the martial arts world of your evil."
In this world, Alex deemed two sins beyond redemption: those who, like Tian Boguang, defiled women, and those who abducted children. For women here, chastity outweighed life itself, and Tian Boguang had shattered countless lives.
"Heh, many have tried to slay me, yet they fell to my blade," Tian Boguang sneered, unfazed. "Think you can? Prove it." He'd cut down plenty of brash newcomers preaching justice.
With a roar, Tian Boguang charged, his knife slashing at Alex's head, swift as a gale.
"Watch out!" Linghu Chong shouted, gripping his sword.
Alex calmly waved his palm, Magneto's power surging. Over 200 kilograms of force seized Tian Boguang's blade, yanking it aside mid-strike. The invisible pull warped its path.
"What sorcery?" Tian Boguang gasped, startled by the blade's betrayal. Before he could recover, Alex's sword flashed, a cold streak aimed at his chest.
With a sickening thud, the blade struck. Tian Boguang's reflexes saved his heart, but a deep gash tore his shoulder, bone gleaming through blood. Stunned by the wound and Alex's uncanny skill, fear gripped him.
Casting Alex a wary glance, he said nothing. Leaping upward, he unleashed Wanli Duxing's lightness skill, vanishing from the restaurant in a blur.
"Such skill…" Linghu Chong gazed at Alex, awe flickering in his eyes, tinged with self-reproach.
As Huashan Sect's eldest disciple, he'd clashed with Tian Boguang across countless miles, acutely aware of the rogue's prowess. Had Tian Boguang fought to kill, Linghu Chong's life would've ended under that relentless blade. Yet this stranger, no older than himself, wielded martial arts so formidable that a single move wounded Tian Boguang, sending him fleeing in terror. Could even his master match such power?
"I'm Linghu Chong, Huashan Sect's eldest disciple. Thank you, brother, for your aid," he said, limping toward Alex. Despite his wonder, his free-spirited nature kept his face open and warm. Clasping his fists, he saluted, though pain lanced through the seven or eight gashes on his body, three searing his legs.
"A small gesture," Alex replied, nodding at the bloodied swordsman. "I'm Alex, deputy leader of the Sun Moon Sect's Wind and Thunder Hall."
"The Demon Sect?" Linghu Chong's expression shifted, his grip tightening on his sword, eyes narrowing.
"What? Because I'm Sun Moon Sect, you'd strike me down?" Alex asked, his gaze flicking to the blade.
Linghu Chong's face twisted in conflict. Alex's aid was undeniable, yet years of his master's teachings—to slay Demon Sect members on sight—warred within him. After a tense pause, he sheathed his sword and stepped back. "You helped me today, and I'm grateful, but you're still Demon Sect," he said, turning to leave.
Watching Linghu Chong's retreating figure, Alex didn't pursue, a faint smile curling his lips. Hostility was absent, and a positive first impression laid a foundation. In The Smiling, Proud Wanderer, Linghu Chong's guard could soften with time. Patience, not haste, would forge a bond.
Hengshan City buzzed with activity, fueled by Liu Zhengfeng's impending Jinpen Retirement Conference. Five Mountains Sword Sect members flocked to the event, their presence thickening the air with anticipation. Alex settled into an inn, dedicating days to refining his inner strength. Each session melded his power more seamlessly, flowing as naturally as his own limbs.
"If I could acquire the Yijin Jing or Huashan's Zixia Magic Skill, their superior internal arts would surpass Elder Tong's," Alex mused, exhaling a cloudy breath after practice, his mind on loftier techniques.
His gaze settled on the fine steel sword beside him. With a thought, he summoned it, the blade rising smoothly to hover before him. His enhanced abilities, bolstered by the small Huandan, now manipulated 200 to 300 kilograms of metal—a force to match.
Curious, Alex leaped up, planting both feet on the blade. The narrow steel, two fingers wide, wobbled under his weight, but held firm, bearing his 100-plus kilograms without faltering.
"As expected, my power can mimic sword flight," Alex murmured, balancing briefly before dismounting. The sword darted back to its scabbard on the table, sliding in like a guided serpent.
Before the small Huandan, facing a master like Liu Zhengfeng would've been daunting—close combat could've felled him swiftly. Now, controlling hundreds of kilograms of metal, Alex felt untouchable, even against Five Mountains sect leaders. At worst, he'd soar away on his sword, invincible in retreat. This confidence drove him to attend the Jinpen Retirement Conference alone.
Though deputy head of Wind and Thunder Hall, Alex's recent rise and Sun Moon Sect affiliation kept him unrecognized. Blending seamlessly into the crowd, he infiltrated the Hengshan Sect's grounds.
Liu Zhengfeng's sterling reputation drew a throng. Taishan, Huashan, and Hengshan sects mingled with righteous factions like the Qingcheng Sect. Curiously, the Songshan Sect, leader of the Five Mountains, was absent—or perhaps biding its time for a dramatic entrance.
Alex melded into the crowd at the Jinpen Retirement Conference, his presence unremarkable amid the throng. Quietly, he studied the prominent figures, memorizing their faces and factions in the bustling courtyard of Hengshan Sect.
Leading the Huashan Sect was a middle-aged man with a refined air—Yue Buqun, the famed Gentleman Sword, his demeanor calm yet commanding.
Nearby, a group of nuns from the Hengshan Sect stood in serene formation. Among them, a young nun's gaze drifted repeatedly toward the Huashan group. Alex recognized her as Yi Lin, the tearful girl who'd collided with him days ago, her eyes still carrying a trace of longing.
Not far off, martial artists in Taoist robes gathered, their disciplined movements marking them as Taishan Sect members. Another group, clad in distinctive Sichuanese attire, drew whispers from the crowd. Alex overheard their identity: the Qingcheng Sect, known for their fierce techniques.
A low, grating sound interrupted his observations—the grinding of teeth. Turning, Alex spotted a hunchbacked young beggar beside him, his eyes blazing with hatred as he stared at the Qingcheng Sect. Despite his youth, the venom in his gaze chilled the air, his clenched jaw producing the harsh noise.
"Could it be…" Alex murmured, a spark of recognition igniting. "Little brother, are you Lin Pingzhi?"
"No! I'm not Lin Pingzhi! You've got the wrong person!" the hunchback snapped, his face paling as he shook his head vehemently.
Alex's lips curved into a faint smile, and he said no more. A stranger's name would prompt confusion or curiosity, not such a reflexive denial. The boy's reaction betrayed his identity.
Lin Pingzhi glanced at Alex, noting his disinterest. The subtle smirk suggested Alex saw through the lie, leaving Lin Pingzhi uneasy, curious, and faintly unsettled.
But Alex's attention had shifted to the Jinpen Retirement Conference unfolding before them. Liu Zhengfeng, resplendent in ceremonial robes, commanded the scene. A gleaming golden basin was presented, its luster a testament to his prestige. With a grand announcement, he dipped his hands into the basin, symbolizing his retirement from the martial world.
"Wait!" a sharp cry pierced the air, halting the ritual. A group of dozens strode in, their arrogance palpable—the Songshan Sect, leaders of the Five Mountains, arriving with imperious flair.
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