Why do I have so many masters?

A rather casual remark, yet it stifled Wang Anfeng's intentions, leaving him unable to speak. He turned his head and looked at the usually aloof woman beside him.

Her eyes were calm, reflecting contemplation, seemingly still pondering over the previous sword strike, mulling over the Solitary Cold Sword Intent hidden within the Sword Qi, yet she never hesitated.

Let him come…

Wang Anfeng chewed over these words, first he sighed softly, feeling that although he was used to considering defeat before victory, his considerations seemed a bit narrow-minded. The recent burdens weighed on his heart, gradually affecting his judgments.

Just a few days ago, Lin Qiaofu had recklessly run out of the inn because she was worried about him.

Reflecting on such reckless thoughts, Wang Anfeng suddenly found it amusing, and couldn't help but shake his head, chuckling lowly, which gradually turned into a clear laugh.

He raised his hand and patted the Broad Sword resting on the side of the horse, and his eyes lightly lifted as he said,

"What a saying, 'Let him come.'"

"Miss Gong Yu, what bravery, what literary grace."

Gong Yu nodded slightly, her expression calm, graciously accepting the praise.

Hong Luoyu pouted in the carriage.

Thinking carefully, the three hundred zhang long Sword Qi that overwhelmed everything earlier was indeed grand, so grand that if it was at night, it could probably draw out light to shine on the purple sky, creating a vast atmosphere that spreads across the heavens.

Yet, the disciples from Qingfeng Edge who wield the Fairy Sword step by step like a ladder to heaven, are not any lesser.

One day, the two of them are bound to have a pure sword-fight.

Since her childhood, Gong Yu has been learning, practicing, and understanding the sword right beside many an Immortal. She's been following the path of the steps beyond the clouds with the Fairy Sword for three years. In three years, Wang Anfeng was able to rise from a mere Eighth Rank to a high middle Sixth Rank Cultivation.

Would Gong Yu, who cultivated beside an Immortal, remain stagnant, still at the Fifth Rank Realm?

Hong Luoyu felt that even if one day someone with the surname Ying seriously told him that the methodical-speaking monk went to a brothel late at night, he wouldn't believe it.

But, if that monk went to a brothel, he would probably just stand with hands clasped together, with a strained face, tirelessly chanting prayers…

Because of some painful experience that he couldn't share with others, Hong Luoyu couldn't help but roll his eyes and silently grumble in his heart, while outside the carriage Wang Anfeng and Gong Yu quietly discussed the nuances of the flow of Sword Intent without deliberately concealing their voices, allowing those inside and outside to attentively listen.

Yuchi Jie, with the Jue Que lying across his knees, occasionally gained insights, his brows flying high.

Hong Luoyu, however, sighed quietly to himself.

One followed the refined path of the Immortal's Sword from a young age.

The other despised all sword moves in the world, opting only for the highest quality of Sword Intent, the Heavenly Mountain Swordsman.

Each had their own style, each had their own demeanor.

Wang Anfeng's swordsmanship was not bad; it was always good, but before these two, he could probably only be said to be good, and if truly drawn into comparison, perhaps only Xue Qinshuang, who hailed from an assassin's noble clan and was invincible among her peers from a young age, could match these two.

It wasn't that Wang Anfeng's cultivation was insensitive, nor was it that he was naturally dull and indolent.

Under the care of Ying, Wang Anfeng's rigorous cultivation almost reached a heart-stopping degree, how could it be insufficiently rigorous, and earlier, having undergone Li Qidao's Thunder Vigor refinement of meridians and bones, removing Dragon Qi backlash with Qi flowing through meridians, was exceptionally prolonged.

If that could still be regarded as naturally dull and indolent, then ninety-nine percent of warriors around the world might as well hang themselves.

The real issue was that he started his cultivation too late.

It began in the summer when he was thirteen, up to now, even with Shaolin Temple's changes in the flow of time as compensation, from his exposure to martial arts to now, it's been only six years.

Merely six years.

When Wang Anfeng, carrying a sickle bigger than he was, sweating profusely as he cut grass for pigs, Qianshan Si was meditating on mountain peaks, his expression serene, negativity sheathed, watching the snow on Heavenly Mountain.

When Wang Anfeng, poor and thin, was clutching a bun gnawing on it, Gong Yu in her white robes was following an Immortal, also holding a sword.

Stepping up the ladder to heaven.

Even when Wang Anfeng was enduring rigorous cultivation, breaking through the Golden Bell's gateway, Xue Qinshuang could already travel the world alone with a sword, and with Gong Yu's sword released, showing Sword Qi like a waterfall, the Swordsman sitting on the summit of Heavenly Mountain leisurely rose and descended the mountain, starting like his master to dominate Jianghu with the sword in his hand.

One year of walking, three years of fame, wielding a sword over rivers, lauded by contemporary scholars, proclaiming that after thirty years he might sweep through Jianghu undefeated with Qingfeng in his grasp.

From the start, it was off.

Hong Luoyu slightly curled his lips.

What was lacking was not a person, it was merely the timing.

The current struggle involved two individuals: a descendant of the Heavenly Mountain Sword Sect, emulating the past champion swordsmen, had taken up his sword in his youth to wander the world, and the future Sect Leader of Qingfeng Edge, wielding the very sword Murong Qingxue had carried in her youth.

Conflict between them was inevitable, Gong Yu and Wang Anfeng had not been able to see clearly, and beside them, Yuchi Jie caught glimpses of parts, but Hong Luoyu, seemingly young, had already experienced numerous Jianghu affairs, so he was able to see even more.

Qingfeng Edge, Heavenly Mountain Sword Sect.

This was feared to be the top prestige and tradition rivalry of the two greatest sword sects in the world, a contest that had been contemplated since Murong Qingxue's involvement, and even further back.

Such a direct and brutal contest of tradition had now, in such a casual manner, begun to unfold.

One had been descending the mountain for the past three years, constantly battling and winning, growing stronger with each battle, amassing an aura that ascended step by step to the heavens.

Yet another had started to settle years ago, their sharp essence fading by the day, while in their heart, it grew stronger and took on an almost ethereal form.

In their clash, the outcome was destined to be one ascending to the heavens, the other breaking their sword and falling.

Perhaps Qianshan Si could triumph with the Solitary Cold Sharp Essence and directly ascend the Heavenly Sect, or maybe Gong Yu, silent for five years, could seize this chance to soar skywards, and the loser, no matter how dazzling their past, would then fade into obscurity.

Unlike the slaughter with swords, the conflicts between the major Jianghu sects were often silent, yet the cold brutality remained entirely the same.

The corner of Hong Luoyu's mouth twisted into a mocking smile.

From the day Qingfeng Edge descended the mountain, it was thought to be a normal day, but no one anticipated that this day would be marked in the Jianghu history with a particularly striking note for a century.

In the Jianghu, the sword is supreme.

And the fight for supremacy of the foremost sword sect starting that day, how could it not be an event remembered in the annals of Jianghu for a hundred years? However, in this affair, Wang Anfeng, including Yuchi Jie, Taishu Jian, and even Hong Luoyu himself, were merely passing bystanders.

If only Wang Anfeng could have, like Gong Yu and the others, grown up in Shaolin Temple since childhood...

Cultivating martial arts from a young age.

Training his physique since childhood.

Hong Luoyu's thoughts were in disarray, and for a moment, he appeared lost in thought, a look of yearning flashed across his face, then he slightly stiffened, shook his head forcefully as if awakening from a nightmare, refusing to entertain that thought any further.

Just by carefully thinking about the process by which they all regained consciousness, one could guess that if Wang Anfeng had grown up practicing in Shaolin Temple since childhood, then perhaps the one outside riding a horse would have been a true monk.

Thinking of Wang Anfeng bringing his hands together in a prayer, saying "Amitabha" with a calm demeanor, or perhaps displaying a gentle, suave demeanor saying "May the wind and moon treat you well", only to turn his back and concoct a venomous scheme, Hong Luoyu's face darkened.

Looking at Wang Anfeng outside, who was wearing a light smile and miming a stabbing motion through the air, Hong Luoyu relaxed slightly in his heart, settled down, and reclined in his carriage, his expression lazy.

This one was more to his liking.

Although a bit late, and somewhat stubborn...

Meeting this 'Wang Anfeng' was indeed wonderful.

In the Shaolin Temple.

Every day, the green-robed Scholar relaxed lazily in a bamboo chair, eyes half-closed, one hand propping up his head, and with the other, he picked up a chess piece and gently set it on the board, his sleeves fluttering like clouds.

Beside him, the White-haired Taoist clapped in admiration:

"Openly repairing the plank road, secretly crossing through Chen Cang."

"The scholar truly plays a good game."

The Scholar responded indifferently:

"Naturally, a good game."

PS: Today's second update presented......

Some blockages in writing, so it's a bit short (please bear with us......)