BDSMST -Chapter 167 Martial Arts Gathering—Held at a Farm?

It turned out that Jiang Suisui’s premonition was completely correct.

The “Jianghu people” who had been beaten were disciples of a second-rate sect from Sichuan called the Qingcheng Three Talents, who fancied themselves righteous and prestigious, yet always engaged in petty thievery. Upon hearing that Woniu Village was wealthy and about to host a martial arts gathering, they hatched a scheme to “rob the rich to help themselves”—taking from Woniu Village’s wealth to benefit their own poverty.

They had targeted a convoy transporting goods from Jinling Port to Woniu Village, ready to strike—but didn’t expect the convoy’s guards to be Li Er and his gang of reformed playboys.

Now, after living in the estate for some time, Li Er and the others hadn’t learned much else—but in terms of protecting the estate’s resources, they were unmatched. In their eyes, every blade of grass and every vegetable in the estate was a treasure. These fools dared to set their sights on their treasure?

A one-sided battle erupted.

Although the Qingcheng Three Talents knew a few basic tricks, they faced a group of “monsters” armed with military combat techniques and strengthened by years of farm labor, each of them possessing immense strength. Li Er’s gang didn’t even use weapons—just fists and farm tools snatched from the fields—and they beat the few dozen intruders to the ground, crying and screaming. Then, they loaded them onto carts and delivered them to the estate gate to await further punishment.

When Gu Yan learned what had happened, he looked at the bruised, defeated Jianghu visitors—like roosters beaten in a cockfight—with a cold, piercing gaze.

“Drag them out. Each gets twenty strikes with the military baton, then toss them out of Jinling territory. Spread the word: Woniu Village does not welcome those of poor character. If there’s a next time, it won’t just be twenty strikes.”

This act of using a few as an example immediately spread across the surrounding hundreds of miles. Small-time opportunists who had planned to take advantage of the martial arts gathering quickly backed off. Meanwhile, the more prominent Jianghu figures arriving gradually shed their usual arrogance and flamboyance, becoming considerably more disciplined.

News that the martial arts gathering would be held at the “Number One Estate in the World” traveled like wildfire, reaching every corner of the Jianghu.

At first, the whole martial arts world thought it was a joke.

“Woniu Village? Isn’t that just a farming estate? Has Elder Gu lost his mind, trying to lecture us in the rice paddies?”

“I heard that place is incredibly rich. Probably just a scheme to extort money, right?”

But as major sects such as Huashan, Kongtong, and Dian Cang all sent key figures toward Jinling, the tides began to shift. People realized that the reemergence of the “Master of the Thousand Machines” wasn’t a rumor—and the long-lost Martial Alliance Order was like a giant magnet, drawing all eyes.

Thus, over the next half month, a spectacular scene unfolded on the official road to Woniu Village in Jinling.

There were lone swordsmen riding tall horses with treasured swords at their waists; groups of disciples from various sects carrying banners of different colors; seductive demon-cult women in lavish carriages accompanied by beautiful attendants; even solemn Shaolin monks traveling by begging along the way.

These were individuals who usually dominated their regions and commanded respect. Yet when they finally arrived at the entrance to Woniu Village, they were met with a scene they would never forget.

There were no swords flashing, no stern guards—only a long table. Behind the table sat several bespectacled, scholarly-looking young men, led by the estate’s chief accountant, Shen Qinghe.

“Heroes, please register here,” Shen Qinghe adjusted his glasses and handed them a form. “Fill in your name, sect, weapons used, family members, and whether lodging is needed. Please complete it carefully.”

A newly arrived swordsman from the northern Wild Wind Blade Alliance stared with wide eyes, looking at the form in his hands, dumbfounded.

“Register? I’ve traveled north and south, never had to register at an inn. And now for a martial arts gathering, I have to write my name first?”

“This is the estate’s rule,” Shen Qinghe patiently explained, his assistant standing by. “It’s for easier management and everyone’s safety. Look, over there—the Shaolin Master Lefan has already registered.”

The swordsman followed his finger and saw a kind-faced elderly monk holding a sheet of paper filled with writing, being guided into the estate by a villager.

The swordsman’s arrogance immediately deflated. Even an accomplished Shaolin monk followed the rules—what could a mere Blade Alliance chief say? He had no choice but to swallow his pride, pick up a brush, and shakily write his name on the paper.

“Done,” Shen Qinghe said, taking back the form. He handed the swordsman a small wooden token with a number engraved on it and a cloth pouch. “This is your identification token—please carry it at all times. Inside the pouch is the Woniu Village Guest Manual, which details all the estate’s rules and daily living guidelines. Please read it carefully.”

The swordsman took the beautifully printed manual, complete with illustrations, and felt as if he weren’t attending a martial arts gathering but entering the Imperial Academy in the capital.

He opened it and saw, on the first page in large, prominent characters:

“Woniu Village Rule #1: Fighting outside designated areas is prohibited. Violators will be fined one hundred taels and disqualified from the gathering.”

The second page read:

“Respect the estate’s plants and trees. Do not pick anything without permission. Violators will be fined ten taels and must replant.”

The third page:

“Keep to the scheduled times. After the Hai hour (9–11 p.m.), loud noise is prohibited. Violators will be…”

The swordsman’s eyelids twitched. This wasn’t a martial arts gathering at all—it was treating him like a three-year-old.

He gritted his teeth and continued walking—but the more he walked, the stranger it all seemed.

The village roads were clean and orderly, lined with neatly arranged fields and houses. Villagers casually weeded the fields, humming tunes he didn’t recognize. Not far off, the weaving workshop’s looms clicked and clacked. A few children played in the village square, and upon seeing this group of fierce-looking Jianghu people, they merely glanced curiously and went back to their games.

The entire village radiated an air of tranquility, prosperity, and vitality. This was a world entirely different from the treacherous dragon-and-tiger lairs the swordsman had imagined, a place supposedly filled with top martial artists.

“Hero, just arrived? Want to try some freshly picked tomatoes from our estate? Sandy and sweet, and very refreshing!” A dark-skinned young man in short clothes enthusiastically approached, holding up a bright red fruit.

The swordsman recognized him immediately. This was the same young leader who had, a few days ago, beaten the useless Qingcheng Three Talents disciples to the ground. A single expert capable of taking down dozens of Jianghu fighters… was here selling vegetables?

The scene was bizarre beyond belief.

The swordsman felt his brain short-circuit a little. He hesitantly bit into the so-called “tomato.” The sweet-and-sour juice exploded in his mouth, instantly washing away all the dust and fatigue from his journey.

“Tasty, right?” the youth laughed. “All our fruits and vegetables here are grown using methods taught by the madam. You won’t find them anywhere else. If you like, you can buy some later at the supply store over there.”

The swordsman stared blankly at the tomato in his hand, then at the villagers carrying hoes and joking as they passed. He began to seriously question whether he had come to the right place.

This was really the site of the martial arts gathering that would supposedly decide the fate of the entire Jianghu?

From head to toe, everything about this event felt… utterly strange.