These men were all known figures in the martial world, each bearing a modest reputation. As for the true depth of their martial skill, that remained to be seen. This official road was the main route through Mount Song, and now it was crowded with various sects and groups. The martial world had always loved excitement, and there was nothing more thrilling than watching two skilled fighters square off. To these wandering swordsmen, a duel was better than any festival. Naturally, the gathering crowd became witnesses to this martial contest. Only the true leaders of the Jianghu held the right to arbitrate such disputes.
At that moment, beneath the clear blue sky and blazing sun, a figure suddenly darted forth—it was Wu Qiang, a burly man. With a display of lightness skill, he leapt several steps forward, clasped his fists and called out, "May I ask for your instruction!" Even as he spoke, he launched himself through the air and in the blink of an eye reached Sun Wu. With a sharp cry, his palms lashed out, striking toward Sun Wu with howling force. The palm wind came first, howling and fierce.
Sun Wu bent low, his steps agile and fast, closing the distance as he reached out with a sudden claw strike. Wu Qiang shifted quickly, changing his move mid-strike, turning his palms into claws to counter.
Both men fought with power and precision—their techniques revealed the skill of experienced fighters. Sun Wu, tall and broad, called out, "Pardon my offense!" as he surged forward, right palm sweeping out. Wu Qiang caught the strike but felt a jolt of numbness in his arm and a tremor in his stance. Startled, he thought, "This guy's no joke—time to show some teeth!" He immediately gathered his internal force to retaliate.
Yet before he could act, Sun Wu had already launched several palm strikes toward his chest. Though seemingly at a disadvantage, Sun Wu remained calm, suddenly retreating a step. Then, with his left palm flipping outward and right palm surging forward, he unleashed a move called 'What Can You Do to Me'—solid, tight, and unyielding. The two exchanged another twenty blows in quick succession.
Just then, a blur flashed by—three figures landed inside the circle, moving with such agility that they seemed like arrows shot from a bow. One of them declared, "We are the Three Great Villains of the Central Plains. Times are tough, and we're short on travel money. Heard all the sects were gathering at Songshan for the Grand Assembly, so we thought we'd take a look." The speaker was none other than Mo Jian, the Old Freak of Hedong—bald and hunched, sinister in appearance.
Seeing this, Wu Qiang and Sun Wu ceased fighting. Another villain, Huo Bing the Tyrant of Henan, pointed at Gu Dao Sect's leader, He Fan, and barked, "You must be the sect master! Hand over a hundred taels of silver. If not—we're not the charitable kind!" Meanwhile, Wang Yu, the Demon of Hebei, pointed at Xi Feng Sect's master, Yao Li: "You too. A hundred taels. Refuse, and don't blame me for being ruthless!"
At the villains' arrival, the road fell into a deathly silence. He Fan and Yao Li exchanged glances—both saw fear in each other's eyes. These men, hardened by the harsh winds of Hedong, now stood like field mice cornered by venomous snakes.
As the saying goes: "All is well at home; hardship comes when one travels." The Gu Dao and Xi Feng sects had journeyed to attend the Songshan Assembly, only to find old foes blocking the way—and now, chaos. Before either sect could win their duel, the three infamous villains appeared. Though both He Fan and Yao Li had long heard of their fearsome reputation, now that they stood before them, a chill ran down their spines.
"I'm the leader of my sect," He Fan thought. "How can I show weakness?" He turned to Yao Li and said gravely, "Sect Master Yao—will you pay or not?" Yao Li, likewise conflicted, replied, "Sect Master He—will you pay or not?"
Both men knew that the three before them were not ones to trifle with. These weren't mere thugs; they were the top predators of the Jianghu.
"When scholars meet soldiers, reason is meaningless." This was more like: small-town bullies meeting national tyrants. Minor villains facing off with the greatest of devils. As the saying goes: "On a narrow road, the brave prevail."
They had no choice but to resist. To hand over the silver without a fight would make them unworthy of their titles. Huo Bing stepped forward with a growl: "Hand over the money—or take a beating!"
He Fan growled, "Yao Sect Master, let's join forces and fight these scoundrels!"
Yao Li, cornered, barked orders: "Wu Qiang! Go test this man's skill!"
He Fan followed: "Sun Wu! Fight alongside Wu Qiang—see what he's made of!"
The two subordinates obeyed and stepped forward. One left, one right—like tigers pouncing from the cage. Their palms shot forth with thunderous force, breaking the air with a shriek, aiming for Huo Bing's vitals.
Huo Bing sneered, twisted his wrists and sank his arms. Like a ghost, his palms shot out—one blocked Sun Wu's strike, the other met Wu Qiang's blow. There was a loud "BOOM!" like stones shattering. Both fighters felt their chests seize, blood churning—then, as if struck by a battering ram, they were hurled backwards.
Wu Qiang hit the ground spewing blood, face pale as paper. Sun Wu clutched his chest, pain splitting his ribs, staggering back several paces before he could steady himself—only to vomit a stream of blood across his chest.
Huo Bing coldly spat, "I'll spare your lives."
Mo Jian stood with hands behind his back, observing with cold eyes. "Pathetic," he said flatly—and the entire crowd shivered.
He Fan's face darkened, veins bulging at his temple. Rage surged in his heart, but he dared not act. Yao Li felt utterly defeated. The rumors had not lied—these three were monsters.
The atmosphere thickened, stifling and cold. Mo Jian gave a hollow laugh and croaked, "I haven't even made a move, and you're already scared to death?"
He raised a palm and pushed gently through the air. A chill swept across the field—those closest felt their spines freeze.
Wang Yu stepped forward, grinding stones to dust beneath his boot. "These sect masters are all spineless. Who else wants to act tough?" His voice cracked like thunder, sending panic through the crowd.
Just as he was about to single out his next victim, Huo Bing flicked two silver notes between his fingers and said mockingly, "Silver is nice—but life is better." Though his tone was light, it was like a blade of ice piercing through bone.
Everyone on the scene was stunned. In one single exchange, Huo Bing had sent two elite fighters flying and bleeding. Whispers spread—"The Three Great Villains of the Central Plains—truly terrifying!"
Mo Jian added with a sneer, "Silver is nothing but worldly dust. Don't gamble your life for it. Not worth it."
"When the wind blows, the eggshell breaks. Parting with your coin is better than parting with your life."
Seeing Sun Wu and Wu Qiang lying on the ground coughing blood, He Fan and Yao Li looked at each other in despair. Wang Yu shouted, "Hand over the silver, or you'll die!"
Huo Bing added darkly, "Take too long, and it's two hundred taels—and a beating to go with it!"
Neither dared delay. With trembling hands, they pulled out a hundred-tael silver note each, respectfully offered them to Huo Bing, then turned and walked away in shame.
Huo Bing laughed behind them, "Many thanks to you both. Safe travels! No need to see you off!"