Rain poured like a waterfall, and the copper bells at the eaves shattered into blurred afterimages in the howling wind. The flickering oil lamp in the rundown tavern cast seventeen moving shadows across the wall. Shi Potian's hand holding the celadon teacup suddenly paused, and the scalding tea inside settled into a clear mirror, reflecting the half-exposed Mandarin Duck Sabers at the wine guest's cuff.
"Innkeeper, some more hot water." Before his voice died away, a steel saber from behind had split the wooden table. The teacup shattered with a crack, and the amber tea transformed into thousands of sharp blades in midair. Six saber-wielding men were pierced in their Shanzhong acupuncture points by the boiling droplets, stumbling back to overturn the screen behind them.
The candlelight suddenly dimmed as three nine-section whips lashed out like the tongues of poisonous snakes. Shi Potian tapped the ground lightly with the tip of his foot, and a wooden stool spun upward, brushing past the whip tips. The internal energy of the Taixuan Scripture surged from his Dantian, turning the wood splinters into a rain of stars across the sky. The whip wielders hurriedly covered their faces with their sleeves, only to feel a sharp pain in the webs of their thumbs—the handles of the whips, forged from fine steel, had been shattered by the mere wood splinters.
Chapter 193