King of Hundred Victories Saber

Shi Feiyang nodded slightly, a deep approval in his eyes, and slowly said: ”Elder Liao, all the brothers here are people of goodwill. Nowadays, the Jianghu is filled with treacherous currents and unrest. To have such a tranquil and peaceful place is indeed a blessing. However, we must remember that countless common folks are still deeply trapped in fire and water, suffering beyond measure. As martial arts heroes, bearing the name of chivalry, all we do is for the common people to enjoy the blessings of peace.”

The crowd, upon hearing this, all agreed wholeheartedly, nodding in approval, feeling an increasing respect and admiration for Shi Feiyang’s broad patriotism.

Shi Feiyang stayed in this peaceful place with the ladies and children for a few days. Yet, the good times did not last long; the calm days were like mirages, vanishing in an instant. A piece of bad news, like a heavy dark cloud, quickly descended, suffocating everyone.

Since the beginning of last year, it seemed as though the Central Plains had been heartlessly forgotten by the heavens, with not a drop of rain falling for the entire year.

An unprecedented drought, like a ferocious beast, rampaged across the Central Plains.

In the fields, the land cracked open with savage fissures, like giant hungry mouths silently voicing their despair.

The crops yielded nothing, the people’s hard work turning to naught, pushing them into a desperate situation.

Driven by the harsh reality of hunger, stories of people resorting to stealing food only to be met with violence frequently emerged from all over.

Upon hearing such news, Shi Feiyang felt a profound pain, his mind tormented and anxious.

He knew that the people were at a critical point, facing life and death, urgently needing someone to extend a helping hand.

Thus, Shi Feiyang made an immediate decision, swiftly gathering the heroes to discuss a plan.

With a serious expression, like a pine atop a mountain, firm and steadfast, his gaze sharp as a sword, he swept his eyes over the crowd and said in a deep voice: ”Now that the people of the Central Plains are deeply trapped in the abyss of suffering, as martial arts heroes, it is our duty to uphold the way of chivalry and step forward to rescue the people from this predicament.”

Then, he turned his piercing gaze to ”Iron Palm” Wu Zhong, his demeanor solemn, and gave a solemn order: ”Wu Zhong, this heavy responsibility is entrusted to you. You must immediately take the lead, select some capable heroes, and head to the Central Plains.

Use the resources from the Heroic Sakura Association’s Luoyang Sub-Branch, and make sure to spare no effort in assisting the affected people with relief supplies.”

Upon hearing this, Wu Zhong stood upright, hands clasped in respect, his posture as upright as a pine, responding in a firm and powerful tone, like the striking of a bell: ”Rest assured, Grand Squad Leader, Wu Zhong will spare no effort to fulfill this mission!”

Saying that, he quickly turned and acted, swiftly assembling his men and leading the team on a hurried journey to the Central Plains.

It was early spring, and the night in Luoyang City was like thick, unmelted ink, unrestrainedly pouring into the world, enveloping the entire city in a hearty embrace of darkness, hiding the heavens from sight.

Only the distant stars in the sky twinkled with faint and cold light, like a group of lonely guardians, striving to bring a glimmer to this ancient city, yet seeming so small and insignificant in the boundless darkness.

Inside the Heroic Sakura Association’s Luoyang Sub-Branch, however, was a completely different, bustling scene.

The lights were so bright it was like daylight, forming a stark and intense contrast with the deathly silence outside the city.

In the warehouse, bags of grain were stacked neatly, like vigilant steel guardians, solemn and dignified, bearing the survival hope of countless people; they were the dawn in darkness, the salvation amidst despair.

The people surrounding the warehouse surged like a tide, gathering around. Their clothes were tattered, full of patches, trembling in the early spring chill, like candles flickering in the wind, ready to go out at any time.

Their faces were haggard, with deep-set eyes like dry wells, waxy skin as if time had drained the life from them, telling of the endless hardships they suffered. Yet, even in such desperate circumstances, their eyes glimmered with hope, like flames stubbornly burning in a dark abyss, weak yet resilient, shining bright, like the morning star in a cold night, leading their yearning for life.

”Iron Palm” Wu Zhong stood tall, his stature as straight as a pine, on a high platform.

He took a deep breath to calm the waves in his heart.

Then, his voice rang out like a bell, echoing in the night sky for a long time, each word clear: ”People, this disaster relief grain will be distributed fairly, ensuring not a single one goes hungry or cold, so everyone can get through this difficult time!”

The people nodded one after another, agreeing, their low murmurs like a babbling brook, rising and falling. Their faces, weathered by time, showed a long-missed expression of relief, akin to sweet rain nourishing their weary souls.

However, just in this peaceful, heartwarming moment filled with hope, a sudden change occurred.

A sinister cold wind howled by, like an icy hand from Hell, with a bone-chilling cold, gently brushing past everyone’s back, causing a shiver and evoking a sense of foreboding.

The fire in the Sub-Branch flickered violently in the face of this wind, light and shadow shifting unpredictably, threatening to be swallowed by darkness, plunging into endless silence. A group of masked men emerged suddenly, like apparitions spawned from the cracks of darkness.

They moved nimbly, their actions as swift and fluent as a leopard, every move displaying rigorous training.