The training ground was chaos. The bandits leveraged the speed of their warhorses, delivering a strike with every swing of their sabers—a blow that carried the weight of a thousand pounds. How could an ordinary person possibly withstand it?

"Clang!"

One saber struck the shaft of a long spear, snapping the wood clean through, and inflicted a grievous wound upon the tribesman. Flesh tore open, and blood streamed down.

"Second Brother," the other tribesmen quickly dragged the injured man back, simultaneously thrusting their own spears forward to fend off the hacking sabers of the bandits.

"Hahahaha…" the bandits roared with laughter.

"Whoosh!" A fierce bandit clad in iron armor and a headscarf violently swung his heavy saber from atop his warhorse, aiming down at the head of a Teng Clan member. The clansman, unable to fully defend, watched as death loomed.

"Die," the bandit cackled hideously.

Just then—

"Shing!" A spear forged from fine steel shot through the air. With a sharp clang, it intercepted the saber. The wielder of this gleaming steel spear was none other than the spear master of the Teng Estate, 'Teng Yongxiang'. Teng Yongxiang was already counted among the clan’s finest warriors; after four years of practicing the Tiger Fist, he had cultivated internal Neijin and his physical strength had greatly increased.

"Get down!" Teng Yongxiang roared.

With a sudden whip of the steel spear, he drove down upon the saber, slamming it into the bandit's body. With a dull thud, the bandit was flung bodily into another bandit beside him, tumbling onto the ground.

"Neighhh~~"

The bandits’ charge finally halted. The bandit leader, a bald, burly man astride a fiery red horse who had already penetrated the deepest into the compound, whipped his head around to fix his gaze on Teng Yongxiang. To everyone's surprise, he burst into laughter. "Hahaha, the outside world speaks highly of the valor of the men of Teng Estate; you truly have some strength. You haven't disappointed me."

The Iron Mountain Gang’s strategy for extorting tribute was simple: charge in, cut down a few people first, regardless of whether they lived or died, and only then demand the money.

The Iron Mountain Gang’s First Chief, 'Wang Tieshan', had once declared back at their stronghold: "We are robbers, we are brigands! The common folk pay tribute because they fear robbers. If they don't fear us, why would they pay? The White Horse Gang held too much sway; our Iron Mountain Gang is newly established, we must employ ruthless methods to strike fear into Yicheng, making future dealings easier. When we reach a manor, ignore everything else—just hack down a few people, dead or alive. The commoners' hearts will naturally fill with terror. Fear compels payment… otherwise, they'll think we are merely kind-hearted! Hmph… as for the troublemakers, eliminate them. Anyone who dares to resist, kill them!"

The Iron Mountain Gang boasted three chiefs, and the other two fully endorsed their elder brother's decree.

The three brothers had wandered the lands of Jiuzhou for decades, gaining a stark understanding of the world.

Money?

It required ruthlessness!

"Second Brother, that young fellow has decent skill; I'll handle him."

"Leave him to me; I’ll settle him in two moves."

Surrounding the bandit leader was a cadre of men riding warhorses with verdant manes, and they vied to speak up.

These horses with green manes were the renowned 'Green Mane Horses' of Qingzhou, each valued at several hundred taels of silver. The ordinary bandits rode horses with dull, yellowish coats—local Yangzhou stock, costing only tens of taels. The quality of one's mount instantly indicated one's status within the gang.

"Everyone, fall back," Teng Yongxiang called out.

The clansmen on the training ground retreated together, raising their spears in cautious defense. By now, many clansmen who had been sheltered inside had rushed to the training ground. As a large estate housing over two thousand people, the grounds were extensive. Teng Qingshan, Teng Yongfan, and others were also on their way.

"Sanzi, I'll give you a chance. Take on the one with the iron spear," the bandit leader drawled with a faint smile.

The instigator among them must be dealt with!

"Yes, Second Chief."

Behind him, one of the eighteen men riding Green Mane Horses drew a long saber, only two fingers wide, with a relatively thin spine, looking somewhat like a sword.

"Old man, prepare to die." Sanzi sneered; Teng Yongxiang was already past forty.

"Whoosh." The bandit named 'Sanzi', wielding his narrow long saber, leaped from his horse, soaring over ten zhang high, like an eagle spreading its wings to dive toward Teng Yongxiang. He raised his saber high above his head, bringing it down through the air with terrifying momentum.

Teng Yongxiang stood calmly, gripping his long spear tightly.

"Shing!" Teng Yongxiang’s eyes snapped wide open, and his spear shot out like a venomous dragon leaving its lair.

"Hmm?" The young bandit mid-air saw his expression shift slightly. The speed of his saber intensified, leaving an afterimage, managing just to strike the tip of the fine steel spear.

"Clang!" "Clang!"

With two successive impacts, the steel spear was jarred aside by the recoil.

"Hmph," the young bandit sneered, changing his momentum. With a swift flip of his wrist, he drove the saber straight towards Teng Yongxiang’s chest.

"Yongxiang!" At that moment, Teng Yongfan, having just arrived from the armory, saw the scene from afar. His face changed drastically, but he was too late to intervene.

Just then—

"Stop!"

It sounded like a clap of thunder from the heavens. This single shout startled the horses into rearing violently, causing several bandits to lose their seats and tumble to the ground. Simultaneously, a terrible, sharp whistling sound pierced the air.

"Shing!"

A soul-shaking, dreadful whistle!

A throwing knife piercing the very fabric of space!

"Master!" The bandit named 'Sanzi's' face changed dramatically; the speed of the projectile allowed for no evasion.

"Thwack!"

A streak of cold light flashed past.

"Ah!" The bandit named 'Sanzi' cried out in agony, falling to the ground. He clutched his chest, curling up, blood constantly seeping out. There was also a bloody hole in his back. The throwing knife had passed straight through his front and back, embedding itself into the wooden fence far across the Teng Estate training ground.

"A master!" The leader on the fiery red horse, the Second Chief, turned to look in the direction the knife had come from.

The other elite bandits riding the Green Mane Horses also turned their heads.

There stood a young man in simple cloth clothing, his face clear and composed, holding a heavy steel spear, now positioned at the very front line of the Teng Clan members.

"Such speed," the Second Chief thought, alarmed. While others couldn't discern the source of the loud shout, he could. "Just moments ago, this young man in cloth was dozens of zhang away; in the blink of an eye, he arrived. That speed is truly remarkable. And... his Neijin is also extremely potent."

Based on that commanding shout, the Second Chief was certain the newcomer was an Neijin master.

"Qingshan!"

"Qingshan, you’re here."

The men of the Teng Clan cheered, overjoyed. Teng Qingshan nodded, turning to Teng Yongxiang beside him. "Uncle, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, but Qingshan, be cautious. There are many experts among these bandits," Teng Yongxiang murmured. "Especially that leader on the fiery red horse; it was him who smashed down our great gate with that Vermillion Bronze Hammer. He undoubtedly possesses the strength of ten thousand jin—a first-rate martial artist!"

Possessing the strength of ten thousand jin qualified one as a first-rank martial artist.

"Rest assured, Uncle. Leave this to me," Teng Qingshan stated, simultaneously letting out a breath of relief. He had been practicing the Three Forms of Xingyi in his private courtyard when he felt the thunder of hooves and rushed over. However, the time between the bandits smashing the main gate, rushing in to strike, and attacking Teng Yongxiang was too brief.

Teng Qingshan’s home was a fair distance from the training ground; after all, this was a large estate of over two thousand people.

Fortunately, Teng Qingshan was extraordinarily fast and managed to arrive in the nick of time.

"Greetings to the valiant men of the Iron Mountain Gang," Teng Qingshan greeted them with a slight bow, his gaze sharp as a blade as it swept over the gathered bandits. The fact that his earlier shout had scared several bandits off their horses indicated that many among them held some fear of him.

"Hahaha... what a true man!" the Second Chief boomed in praise. "To think Teng Estate harbors such a strong warrior; I am impressed."

"Smashing my Iron Mountain Gang's gate with a single hammer blow, I, too, greatly respect the prowess of the Iron Mountain Gang's warriors," Teng Qingshan replied loudly.

While they spoke, the other men from the estate who were at home also arrived continuously at the training ground. Teng Yunlong also appeared, though he remained silent.

"However, for injuring the men of my Iron Mountain Gang, I must provide an accounting to my brothers. You have two paths: first, pay ten thousand taels of silver. Second, I have thirteen young men under me; if you can survive their assault, we shall let this matter rest," the bandit leader dictated from his superior position.

The Second Chief understood clearly that if they failed to subdue Teng Qingshan today, they would likely secure little silver from Teng Estate.

"Oh? Then I shall sample the skills of the Iron Mountain Gang's warriors," Teng Qingshan chuckled lightly.

"Very good, showing courage." The bandit leader waved his hand. "Clear a circle, brothers, let's see what skills the men of Teng Estate possess."

The bandits immediately cleared a wide ring.

"Qingshan," Teng Yunlong, Teng Yongfan, and several others gathered nearby, speaking with concern.

"Qingshan, if you can't hold them off, we’ll offer some silver and let it go," Teng Yunlong whispered, while his mother, 'Yuan Lan', watched her son with equal worry.

"Don't worry, Grandfather," Teng Qingshan smiled easily, his calm demeanor infecting Teng Yunlong and the others. "Since the Iron Mountain Gang leader wishes me to instruct his thirteen young men, I cannot refuse him the favor. I shall assist him in 'guiding' his subordinates." Teng Qingshan made sure his words carried to the bandits.

"Hmph, talking big, careful not to strain your tongue!" A furious roar followed as the thirteen men on the Green Mane Horses simultaneously sprang up.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

In mid-air, the thirteen men drew shining longswords from sheaths strapped to their backs.

"If you have the ability, come and fight us," the thirteen youths stood ready, each gripping a longsword. Generally, in large-scale melee, sabers held the advantage, but in one-on-one combat, longswords were superior. These youths carried longswords on their backs, clearly indicating they had spent considerable time mastering the blade.

"The bandits formed such a large circle; once Qingshan enters that ring, if the bandits break their word and swarm him, it will be perilous," Teng Qinghu muttered worriedly.

"Qingshan!"

"Brother Qingshan."

Many clansmen watched Teng Qingshan with apprehension.

Teng Qingshan merely smiled, then gripped his long spear and walked directly into the empty circle at the center of the bandit throng, facing the numerous bandits alone. The thirteen sword-wielding men surrounded him. The leader sneered, "We'll give you the chance to strike first; otherwise… you won't get a chance."

"Believe it or not, I can pierce your throat with a single throw," Teng Qingshan smiled at the leading swordsman.

The swordsman’s face changed slightly; they had all witnessed Teng Qingshan's throwing skills earlier.

"Brothers, move out," the leader shouted.