This infuriated the assembled brutes. The yellow-faced man roared, "This little monk is too audacious! Who will teach him a lesson?"

"I will!" a sharp shout cut through the air. The crowd parted, and a man as thin as a dried reed drifted forward, stopping on the steps to look down upon Li Muzhan.

He was tall and gaunt; already half a head taller than Li Muzhan, and standing on the steps, Li Muzhan barely reached his shoulder, forced to look up.

He had a face like a bitter melon, dotted with sparse pockmarks, and eyebrows that were long, one black and one white. In his left hand, he held a strange longsword that shimmered with a cold light.

"Hahaha, Zhao Mazi, take care of him!" The yellow-faced man licked his lips and chuckled, "We'll be making minced meat buns for breakfast!"

"Good." The pockmarked man nodded, his expressionless gaze fixed on Li Muzhan.

Li Muzhan met his eyes and felt as though he were looking at a dead man; it was profoundly unsettling. Li Muzhan turned his gaze to the sword in the man's hand.

He held the sword in his left hand, which demanded caution; left-handed swordplay was often insidious, venomous, and utilized unexpected maneuvers. This sword was narrow and long, one-third narrower and one-third longer than a standard Qingfeng sword.

Fortunately, the man had long legs, so the tip of the blade didn't drag on the ground; if Li Muzhan had wielded that sword, it would surely have felt awkward.

The yellow-faced man laughed heartily, "Little monk, let me tell you in advance: this Zhao Mazi kills very slowly; he likes to flay people bit by bit, sword stroke by sword stroke. Be careful!"

Li Muzhan smiled faintly, raising his left-hand sword level, letting his right-hand sword hang slightly lower, adopting an opening stance: "Enough talk. Start!"

"Hmph!" Zhao Mazi sneered, and instantly a cold gleam shot toward Li Muzhan, already aiming for his chest.

Li Muzhan inwardly noted, Such a fast sword.

He sidestepped, sweeping his left-hand sword out. While evading the tip, he aimed to slash the inside of the man's shoulder joint. The move was exquisite, tricky, and bizarre—it was one of the forms from the Twelve Plum Blossom Swords: Inverted Plum Branch.

The Twelve Plum Blossom Swords were rudimentary, their forms simple, but Li Muzhan had internalized them to the bone. Every move, every stance, came naturally, requiring no thought, purely instinctive reaction.

As a result, what should have been ordinary techniques appeared masterful and miraculous to outsiders, transforming the mundane into the divine.

Seeing the counter-sweep, Zhao Mazi twisted his body aside to avoid it. The sword tip flickered, launching a relentless attack, each strike bizarre and unprecedented, stabbing from unbelievable angles, making it impossible to defend against.

Li Muzhan deployed the Eight Mountain-Suppressing Swords with his left hand, unhurriedly, creating layers of shimmering sword light before him, continuous and unbroken, like the towering, overlapping peaks in a landscape painting.

The layers of sword light stood tall like a great mountain, profound and heavy, insurmountable.

The Eight Mountain-Suppressing Swords held immense power, Jin Kaitai’s ultimate secret art. Li Muzhan had grasped the essence of this sword style, and deploying it now showed complete mastery and infinite charm, instantly lending him a magnificent, imposing presence, as unyielding as a mountain.

Zhao Mazi’s flaying style was strangely cunning; Li Muzhan felt as though he faced a venomous snake hiding in the grass—unseen, unfound, emerging from who knew where and when.

The yellow-faced man roared with laughter, shouting, "This little monk's flesh is tender and delicate—perfect for meat buns! We're going to feast today!"

One brute chimed in, "Twelve Boss, human meat buns are delicious, but it's Zhao Mazi's skill that matters. He must carve the meat off while the victim is still alive; cutting after they breathe their last isn't as tasty!"

The yellow-faced man nodded in agreement, "Indeed, Zhao Mazi's skill is unmatched by us."

Another man waved his hand and called out, "How many cuts can this little monk endure? Shall we place a bet?"

"I bet on a thousand cuts, ten taels!" a husky voice declared.

A small, thin man cried out, "I bet on eight hundred cuts, twenty taels!" He chuckled, "That little fellow is too skinny; he won't last a thousand cuts!"

"I bet thirty taels on twelve hundred cuts!" a burly brute bellowed, adding a chuckle, "You're all mistaken. This kid has a long-lasting qi current and extraordinary stamina; he can survive over a thousand cuts before finally expiring!"

They chattered excitedly, watching Li Muzhan intently.

Li Muzhan’s expression remained unchanged, a faint smile playing on his lips. Inside, killing intent boiled, while his thoughts grew colder and faster, his intention preceding his blade.

These fellows weren't just boasting; they seemed genuinely capable of such acts. Eating human flesh in the form of buns—their behavior was no different from beasts. Not killing them would betray his own principles.

His right hand had been holding his sword down, the tip drooping, as if injured and unable to move. Suddenly, it shifted, and a flicker of cold light flashed past. No one saw his movement clearly.

"Uh." Zhao Mazi suddenly let out a dull groan. His movement stuttered, and his heart was already pierced.

Li Muzhan’s left-hand sword did not pause. A silver streak whipped across Zhao Mazi's front, the tip slicing his throat. His body convulsed once more.

The longsword slipped from his grasp, falling onto the blue stone platform with a clatter.

He slowly leaned backward. The yellow-faced man quickly caught him and stared at Li Muzhan with astonishment, shouting, "Someone! Go call the First Boss!"

"Yes!" one of the brutes acknowledged, turning and running up the path.

Li Muzhan smiled and shook his head. He swung both his left and right swords simultaneously and charged into the crowd.

Amidst a continuous cascade of sharp metallic sounds, he advanced up the steps one by one, unstoppable. Everyone who blocked his path was slain without exception, cut down like wheat.

The Shadowless Sword, augmented by the Bow-Drawing Art, gained further speed and ferocity, its power boundless. These bald-headed brutes had no chance to resist and were swiftly executed.

His swords carried a strange force. While he met their attacks head-on, his body was not easily swayed. The steps were narrow, allowing only two men to stand abreast. With the wind whipping around them, maneuvering space was limited; the only option was to meet force with force. Furthermore, his sword was too fast; it was difficult to dodge. They could only block with their blades or weapons. Once they engaged directly, their arms immediately went numb, causing a momentary delay—and that momentary lapse cost them their lives.

In the blink of an eye, aside from the one who ran to report to the summit, the two dozen-plus brutes were wiped out, every single one dead with their eyes wide open, unable to rest in peace.

Li Muzhan’s sword was too swift, his strikes too ruthless. They were like children facing adults, utterly powerless to fight back, mown down like chicks and ducklings.

Li Muzhan channeled his internal energy into his sword, gave it a light shake, and the bloodstains instantly flew off, restoring the blade to a clean, bright sheen.

His steps did not falter as he ascended the stairs.

The narrow path was long. Along the way, bald-headed brutes continuously appeared to intercept him, charging forward wave after wave. Though they knew they were outmatched, they charged forth fearlessly.

Li Muzhan inwardly admired their hardiness, but his killing intent did not wane. His sword strikes were merciless, directly slaying them. By the time he reached the halfway point up the mountain, nearly a hundred souls had fallen beneath his blade.

He stopped, standing still with his hands hanging at his sides, like a statue.

Silence reigned around him. The lanterns formed two rivers of fire stretching upward, seemingly reaching the very clouds, the end still nowhere in sight.

The moonlight was like water. He slightly closed his eyes and began circulating the Nine Luminaries Heart Method.

His spirit settled, focusing on the bright moon above. After a moment, gentle moonlight descended from the Tianmen point, entering his Dantian via the Ren Meridian. In a short time, his Dantian felt cool and slightly expanded. He ceased the circulation.

The moon essence flowed along the Ren and Du Meridians, moving up and down like a waterwheel. With every revolution, the essence released a measure of internal energy, as if steam was rising from water.

After several cycles, his Dantian was full; he was greatly satisfied. The Nine Luminaries Heart Method was indeed marvelous beyond compare.

To others, the Nine Luminaries Heart Method was difficult and obscure, rendering initiation impossible.

To master it, two conditions needed to be met: first, a strong, firm, and pure spirit; second, a connection to the bridge between heaven and earth, with the Ren and Du Meridians unobstructed.

The first condition allowed the drawing down of moon essence, while the second enabled the essence of sun and moon to transform into internal energy. Moon essence entering the body felt like substantial water droplets, heavy and arduous to circulate, but once converted into internal energy, it could be commanded with perfect ease in combat.

Cultivating the Nine Luminaries Heart Method required both elements; those who could satisfy both requirements were exceedingly rare in this world. Li Muzhan’s attainment was purely due to fortuitous chance.

Footsteps sounded. Li Muzhan looked up to see a trail of lanterns stretching down the path. He focused his gaze: about twenty men, stopping five steps away.

The leader was a clean-shaven youth, perhaps in his early twenties, with delicate features, red lips, and white teeth. Were it not for the visible Adam's apple beneath his jaw, one might have mistaken him for a woman.

He possessed an elegant bearing, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling faintly, "Brother Monk, may I ask your name?"

Li Muzhan chuckled, "I am here to kill. Why should I announce my name? Move aside!"

Having killed so many people, a chilling, murderous aura naturally clung to him. Though he smiled, his presence felt sinister and overwhelming.

The refined youth smiled slightly, "The First Boss wishes to see you. Do you dare to come up?"

"Lead the way!" Li Muzhan waved his hand dismissively.

Since learning the Bow-Drawing Art, his strength had greatly increased. While these brutes were tough opponents, killing them was easy. To come this far without seeing the leader would be a wasted trip.

The refined youth turned, and the assembled brutes split to the sides, lining the steps, leaving just enough space so that a careless misstep would send one tumbling off the platform.

Both sides of the steps were sheer, smooth rock walls, offering no purchase. Falling onto them would mean sliding straight down the mountain, leading to a fatal smash.

Li Muzhan waited for them to start moving up before following behind, avoiding being surrounded. These men were all fearless; if he were trapped in an encirclement, and they chose to fight to the death alongside him, even his might would be useless. His Indestructible Golden Net was only partially mastered; a fall from such a height would likely still shatter his bones, a risk he dared not take.

Their feet moved like flying. In a short while, they reached the summit. The terrain changed abruptly, flattening out like a mirror. As far as the eye could see, there were trees: pines, firs, poplars, magnolias, and more—all kinds of trees.

The woods were lush and dense. In the heart of the forest, a three-story building soared upward, conspicuous and striking.

Under the moonlight, the three-story structure was clearly visible: red walls, yellow tiles, and a rounded spire. It was, remarkably, a Buddhist pagoda, its tip pointing directly at the night sky.

Surrounding it were numerous independent small courtyards interspersed with two-story pavilions, built close together, stretching out in a pattern like scales on a fish, clustering around the central temple as stars surround the moon.

The refined youth gestured, and the brutes stopped, lining up before the path leading down the mountain, staring grimly at Li Muzhan. Li Muzhan felt a tightening in his chest but kept his face expressionless.

"Please," the refined youth smiled, turning to walk ahead, leading the way through the woods toward the pagoda.

Viewing it up close, the three-story building possessed a magnificent grandeur, standing firm and imposing, heart-stoppingly impressive.

The refined youth turned back, "The First Boss is inside. Please enter."

Li Muzhan nodded, carrying his swords, silent and still.

A horizontal plaque hung above the central second-story entrance. The plaque was made of stone, with three large characters carved in relief: "WOHU TEMPLE" (Crouching Tiger Temple).

The three characters exuded a powerful aura, like three fierce tigers coiled and ready to spring out and devour men.

I apologize for the outburst of complaints in a moment of urgency yesterday; I feel quite embarrassed. After reflecting, I realize I was too eager for quick success. The crucial thing is that my writing wasn't good enough; I must bury myself in diligent effort.