In Wang Xianzhi's opinion, the saying that the martial arts of Jianghu were extensive and profound was rather boring. The old man had seen too many so-called supreme arts and new moves, but they were nothing more than old wine in a new bottle. It was difficult for them to escape the rules set by their predecessors, especially for swordsmen. The peaks of their predecessors were too high, and most of the later generations were only on their way up the mountain. Therefore, during this period of time, there was nothing new to speak of, and it was even more difficult for Wang Xianzhi's eyes to light up.
However, Wang Xianzhi did not let his guard down in the slightest when Wang Xiaoping's half-sword was unsheathed. He originally wanted to use the method he used to deal with the woman from Mount Hui. He wanted to use his unparalleled aura to casually attack from afar. In the end, Wang Xianzhi, who was holding the mountain with his palm, did not do as he pleased. Instead of holding the rock with one palm, he held it with both hands. His footsteps did not stop as he continued to run towards Wang Xiaoping on the shore. His fingers were like iron hooks, and his Qi dynamic seeped into the huge rock. First, it tore open cracks, and then the entire ten-thousand-pound rock was crushed into hundreds and thousands of pieces of broken stone. The broken stone was scattered, but its spirit did not disperse.
Wang Xianzhi's wrists were pressed together, and with a twist of his hands, the broken stones that looked like they were about to fall apart instantly reformed, forming a large circular stone formation from afar. Between the cracks of the broken stones, countless tiny purple lightning bolts flowed wildly. As Wang Xianzhi suddenly spread out his hands, a flock of purple and black crows in the shape of a half-fan appeared above the old man's head.
The flock of broken stone crows did not stay still, but each of them was drawing water. The Guangling River under Wang Xianzhi's feet constantly had water columns as thick as an arm surging out of the water surface.
If the flock of crows was the fan, then these rapidly rising and spinning water columns were the ribs of the fan.
Wang Xiaoping went down Mount Wudang to hone his swordsmanship. Today, he challenged the mountain with his sword and forced Wang Xianzhi to leave the mountain. However, an outsider came. He could also be considered as someone who had left the mountain. However, the timing of his appearance was coincidental with the rise of Wang Xiaoping's sword and Wang Xianzhi's flock of crows. It was neither beneficial nor detrimental to the overall situation, so the two of them intentionally chose to ignore this person. This uninvited guest was wearing an old Taoist robe that had been washed until it was white, but it was not the style of Mount Longhu and Mount Wudang. He looked like a man of no doubt about his age. He was about a mile away from the Guangling River and happened to see Wang Xianzhi's white Fist Aura smashing towards a man in purple. The middle-aged Taoist did not seem to be running wildly. Every step he took was still leisurely and leisurely. However, in almost the blink of an eye, he was already near the riverbank. Even when Wang Xiaoping slashed the Long Rainbow with her sword, the Taoist still did not make a move. Then, he stopped at the riverbank and watched the Mount Huishan Purple Robe fall into the rolling water in the middle of the river. The Taoist seemed to sigh softly.
The middle-aged Taoist did not jump into the river to save Wang Xianzhi. He turned his head and looked at the "fan" that Wang Xianzhi had created with great effort. He frowned. Everyone knew that when Old Monster Wang was in charge of the Martial Emperor City, he welcomed and sent away countless masters. He never asked for any fancy moves. In short, if you fought with him, it would be ugly. Whether you were Cao Changqing who had the Eight Stars of Elegance to himself, or the Peach Blossom Sword Deity who defeated the Sword Manipulation to the Sword Manipulation, they would not give the outsiders the impression that the world would cry for ghosts and gods. The Taoist did not move at all. His left hand drew an arc, bringing about waves of ripples, as if he was blocking something invisible. However, the five fingers of his right hand were making gestures so fast that it was dazzling.
There were three situations: the right time, the right place, and the right people. Beimang's Grand Preceptor Yuan Qingshan was good at calculating the right people. Huang Longshi was especially good at calculating the right time, and he won by calculating the right place.
Among the few remaining Spring and Autumn Thirteen Ranks, this Taoist who had been hiding his scholarly achievements from the beginning to the end occupied the "First Rank".
He seemed to be in his forties, but in fact, he was already over a hundred years old. However, the way he practiced made it impossible for him to reach the Celestial Being Realm. Otherwise, with his outstanding talent and wisdom, he could have returned to his original state long ago. His degree of freedom could be compared to Ancestor Lu who passed through the Gate of Heaven without entering it five hundred years ago. However, whether the people could ascend or not was just a matter of a thought from him. In the long years, he had seen too many ups and downs of the world. He had discussed the Dao with Ancestor Lu's reincarnation, Qi Xuan, many times. He had raised an evil dragon for the Zhao family of Liyang in the Earth Lung Mountain, and schemed against the third generation of the Dragon Tiger Mountain's chief. Earlier, he had even walked Jianghu with Liu Songtao, the Sect Leader of Zhulu Mountain, who was invincible in the world a hundred years ago. They were both enemies and friends. The Taoist stopped making gestures. He already understood the situation of the two people in the distance.
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