They did not recognize Gongsun Jing.
And Gongsun Jing had not moved again, his eyes slightly closed, he took a deep breath, and the blood that had been silent in his body for a long ti slowly accelerated.
It was still that boiling.
At this mont, a middle-aged man with broad shoulders had already rushed out from the door. Initially furious, his expression changed abruptly upon seeing Gongsun Jing and he swiftly retreated back into the yard like lightning.
A few monts later,
on this street, more than a hundred martial artists had already appeared.
Among them was one Gongsun Jing had seen before, ten days ago, during the incident involving Tan Yurou. That black-clad swordsman, who had stood on Tan Yurou’s side, still carried three disparate longswords on his back. Wearing dark clothes, which made his complexion appear even paler, he looked at Gongsun Jing in front, puzzled. He attempted to speak but then closed his mouth as his gaze brushed past a refined middle-aged man nearby.
That middle-aged man was also a Sixth Rank Martial Artist.
Perhaps it could...
A hint of ardor appeared in the eyes of the black-clad swordsman but it was quickly suppressed.
The middle-aged man thought of the sa thing, his eyes blazing as he looked ahead at Gongsun Jing, who had co here alone, with a slight smirk forming at the corner of his mouth.
He was smiling, but the murderous aura beca even more apparent.
The martial artists around sensed this tense atmosphere, their weapons clashing with increasing intensity.
All eyes landed on Gongsun Jing’s face.
Gongsun Jing slowly raised his head and said,
"Is this all you have..."
It seems, not yet enough...
His right hand raised, sothing wrapped in black cloth heavily smashed onto the ground. As the black cloth fell, it revealed two segnts of a spear shaft, at the handle of which, there was a barely perceptible mark bearing a single character.
’Jing’
Gongsun Jing’s hand gently caressed this character.
He knew his arrival here today was extrely reckless, hardly befitting a seasoned Gang Leader of Jianghu but rather resembling a seventeen or eighteen-year-old youth. Yet, sothing was stirring within him, urging him to keep fighting, first to let him vent.
Was this thing present only today? Or had it been suppressed within him for twenty years?
He did not know, did not know...
But he knew, upon seeing the Young Master, upon realizing that the bloodline of the Great Marshal still existed in the world, that these emotions surged more intensely, uncontrollable.
He must do sothing... like, dealing with these martial artists who spied on the Young Master’s belongings.
The expression of the black-clad swordsman showed a slight change.
A few dozen feet away, a vastly different force began boiling within that man, involuntarily giving rise to a chill in his heart, making him subconsciously step back and raise his hand to strike toward the direction of Gongsun Jing.
The first mont.
Upon receiving the command, those martial artists who were unaware of Gongsun’s identity had already drawn their weapons. Amidst the clashing sounds, like a group of charging wolves, their eyes filled with killing intent, they used their various movent techniques and charged towards Gongsun Jing.
Gongsun Jing had a gentle expression, lifting the two segnts of the broken spear.
The second mont,
those martial artists had approached within five feet of him.
Gongsun Jing aligned the long spear and with a light snap, connected it together.
He had always treasured this long spear, so now, it was as new as the day he first received it.
Gongsun Jing slantedly held the long spear in his right hand, his body slightly hunched, the spear tip grazing the ground as he drew an arc that landed behind him.
His gaze thus lowered, seeing those Jianghu individuals with widened eyes, among them two sa-ranked martial artists, their bodies tense with stimulated instincts.
Yet his heart was very relaxed, very calm.
All he saw before him were enemies.
This view was the most familiar scene for the martial artist nad Gongsun Jing.
"Kid, from today onwards, you are a mber of the Divine Martial Mansion."
"Gentlen, follow and kill!"
The mories tumbled, becoming more vivid.
"From today onwards, there will be no Divine Martial Mansion in the world..."
His blood was boiling.
Gongsun Jing took a deep breath, barely distinguishing whether this was the distinctly four-seasoned north of the Great Qin or the perennially snowy cold lands, the only certainty was the combat will, still burning.
It’s been a long while... everyone.
It’s been a long while...
Gongsun Jing.
He hunched his body, striding forward as if in his youth, following everyone else towards the front.
The speed increased more and more.
General, Great Marshal.
His grip on the spear suddenly tightened, he seed to have surpassed all his past, all his comrades, using all his strength to take a heavy step forward, his mind vividly conjuring the image of figures clad in iron armor, as if surrounded by countless comrades.
Gongsun Jing opened his mouth, as he had done over twenty years ago, and bellowed:
"Wind, wind!"
In his mind, the Iron Cavalry of Great Qin who once held the strongest spears raised their weapons, the forest of long spears roaring in response.
"Great Wind!"
Gongsun Jing began to laugh, laughing wildly.
Turns out, I haven’t forgotten.
His eyes blood-red, he raised the long spear, shouting at the top of his voice:
"Divine Martial!!"
"Kill!"
This was the ancient tune of Great Qin, stark and rustic, with only one person shouting, only one person charging, carrying a loneliness to the extre, a defiance to the limit, facing the densely packed martial artists, almost laughably presumptuous.
But no one could laugh.
In an instant, as if a barbaric battlefield had returned to the earth, a fierce and solemn aura crazily spread from Gongsun Jing’s body, everyone felt an instant chill down their spine, their consciousness seemingly separated from their bodies.
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