The wrestling techniques were far more effective than Du Chengfeng had anticipated.
Initially, Du Chengfeng thought that the wrestling techniques he got from the memory of that axe could only be considered a mere sport in this world where everyone could walk out armed. After all, bare-handed wrestling techniques seemed useless.
While he was still looking for an opportunity to grab the opponent's body, the opponent had already swung a blade at him. A blade is longer than a hand; wouldn't he inevitably take a hit?
But contrary to Du Chengfeng's expectations, the answer was not necessarily so.
Among wrestlers, there are also levels of skill.
If it's an ordinary wrestler, they naturally can't face weapons. Whether the sharp edge cuts or stabs, even a slight scratch would cause a flesh-and-blood body to bleed on the spot.
But Du Chengfeng's wrestling techniques came from the brothers He Xixuan and He Xiqing.
He knew He Xixuan. Although he had once slashed down the Armored Hu General with one strike, his impressive figure with broad shoulders and a round waist covered in iron armor, as well as his courageous strength in breaking the Dock Fortress gate with an axe, left a deep impression. Such a strong man, naturally a good wrestler, possessed immense power to fling many a hero.
But even stronger was He Xiqing.
In childhood, he could wield a giant axe to kill a bear, a humanoid monster whose understanding of timing and power had reached its peak. If the mighty He Xixuan was an unmovable mountain in the wrestling arena, then his elder brother He Xiqing was the boundless sky far higher and farther than any mountain.
In those memories, although He Xixuan would wrestle with his elder brother during his leisure time, this mountain in the wrestling arena never lasted beyond the second round.
He Xiqing, very strong.
"If He Xiqing had faced the spear-throw just now, what would have happened?"
Du Chengfeng couldn't help but ponder.
A moment later, he found the answer.
If it were He Xiqing, the first spear thrown wouldn't even touch the ground.
At a mere three zhang away, Yang Sanlang standing at the door would have been killed by He Xiqing in a single breath with the spear he threw himself.
But for Du Chengfeng, relying on the same technique and nearly identical response and experience, he couldn't achieve instant counteraction and allowed Yang Sanlang to use all five spears.
This was the gap.
The gap between him and He Xiqing.
"What a... monster."
Thinking of this, Du Chengfeng couldn't help but sigh.
Facing a humanoid monster who could slay a giant bear while still young, could an ordinary person like him have the strength to rival him?
Perhaps, yes.
"Perhaps it can be done."
With this thought, Du Chengfeng raised his head, looking at the pile of weapons in the yard.
Weapons from the Hu people, more than two hundred pieces.
Weapons from the Yang Family's young and strong, more than sixty.
The treasured sword of the Yang family.
And at his feet, an ancient-patterned two-handed axe.
This was all he had at the moment, all the experience and wisdom attached to over two hundred and sixty weapons. They say three cobblers are as good as Zhuge Liang, so could the collective wisdom of these more than two hundred sixty items enable him to engage with He Xiqing?
Du Chengfeng didn't know, but he wanted to try.
To protect the hard-won life he now had.
Thus, he stayed awake through the night.
By the next morning, Yang Xuan had come with several clansmen to knock on the gate of Du Chengfeng's small courtyard. Those young clansmen carried gifts, several large boxes packed full.
Clearly, they came to apologize. Yang Xuan already knew about Yang Sanlang's actions the previous night and, faced with the trouble his troublemaking nephew caused, could only have Yang Sanlang carried back first and then bring gifts to apologize.
Even if it meant sacrificing face, he was determined to settle the affair peacefully.
Yang Xuan had made up his mind.
But as he pushed open the shabby gate of the small courtyard, ready to utter the prepared speech he had rehearsed through the night, those words stuck in his throat.
Because he saw the knives.
Knives everywhere.
The rising sun reflected sharply off the blades, its warm rays chillingly cold upon being mirrored by them.
Yang Xuan and those Yang clansmen could barely bear to open their eyes.
Though these knives lay slanted in the earth along with spears and lances, they seemed just moments away from rising to chop them apart or pierce them through.
However, that immediate fear of being struck vanished suddenly.
Everything seemed like a mere illusion.
"What is this..."
Those gift-bearing Yang clansmen couldn't help but turn to Yang Xuan.
They fully knew that what they just felt wasn't an illusion.
"Don't panic. These weapons have all been sharpened."
Yang Xuan shook his head intuitively, picking up a curved sword planted not far from his feet.
Under his grasp, that crudely made curved sword glimmered with a murderous light, as if ready to spill blood at any moment. But holding it in hand, Yang Xuan felt no bloodlust.
A knife is only a knife, just a honed piece of metal, lying quietly in his hand as if asleep.
"He can control the evil qi of weapons..."
Yang Xuan carefully placed the curved sword back into the earth, daring not touch it much.
At this moment, Yang Xuan confirmed once again that his decision was correct, even if it meant sacrificing the pride of the Yang clan. Because compared to a master who could control weapon evil qi, such a false pride mattered little.
He must find a way to keep the other at Yang Family Fortress, even if it meant truly venerating him like an ancestor.
"Prepare more gifts quickly, these are too few… Why are you looking at me? Don't know how much to bring? Then bring enough to worship ancestors!"
While instructing the young clansmen around him, Yang Xuan respectfully moved forward.
Though he spoke of bringing offerings fit for ancestor worship, the closer he got to that rundown hall, the more distinct was that strange feeling of reverence in his heart.
Especially as he pushed open the broken door before him, he even felt as if opening a temple gate.
And inside the hall, the figure sitting beside the grinding stone, in a trance, took on several shades of his Yang clan ancestors.
Until the opponent spoke.
"Damn, how do you even sharpen this thing?"
While cursing, Du Chengfeng casually tossed the cudgel aside.
Then raised his head, looking at Yang Xuan standing at the door.
"You're just in time."
He said this while pointing at the yard full of weapons.
"Too few, these items are still too few."
"More, I need more."