Yan ZK

Jianghu was in turmoil, an era of great strife.
The leader of Great Qin wielded the Mo Blade, leaving the world battered and bruised. The ageless figures of Jianghu crouched upon the mountains, and with a single turn, they cast the entire world below them.
Strong men measured the earth with their feet, and heroes of Jianghu could cleave the heavens with one sword, yet in the blink of an eye, they were drunk in the embrace of beauties.
The Taoist carried his sword, the Scholar drunk on wine.
Wearing tattered clothes, a beggar grasped a rotten branch and dared to storm the ancestral hall of the Taoist Sect. On the willow-lined causeway, in the long pavilion, a man who had sat withered for thirty years turned and stepped out, holding a peach blossom, with a flick of his wrist, he shattered ten miles of red candles.
The era of Great Qin was renamed the Great Yuan Era.
The youth with the Wooden Sword left his mountain village behind.
(Solo female lead)

Why do I have so many masters?

In this place, only three people understood that question.


Wang Anfeng, already having sheathed his longsword and standing at the doorway dressed in a green shirt with a qin on his back, and Hong Feibai, whose shape was weather-beaten and carefree yet already beginning to grasp the essence of the swordsman's heart, stood before him—a middle-aged swordsman.


His body seemed to have an imperceptible curve which then straightened even more, much like the sword in his hand.


He looked at his most proud disciple, shook his head, and spoke in a cold and clear voice,


Chapter 115 Inside the Wall is Jianghu (2/2)