Why do I have so many masters?

Wang Anfeng felt a sudden burst of anger, his Qi Nurturing Technique taught by Mr. Jiang turned out to be as flimsy as a sheet of Zhang Bozhi paper in front of Li Qidao, with many traces of juvenile determination showing on his still young face as he glared fiercely at Li Qidao.

He suddenly could understand how Uncle Wang, who just carried Da Huang by the neck, must have felt in his heart.

Li Qidao glanced at him, and with a smug smile, he said:

"What are you looking at? Keep staring and you still won't have it"

"You can't even practice the third gate Heavenly Thunder Fist, and the fourth gate, Shenzhao Battle Qi, is the obsession of the past fifty years by this old man. Although it's only a nascent form, you, youngster, can't touch it. Wait until your Gang Thunder Force is strong enough to spread throughout the body's meridians and muscles before we talk."

"Come over now, sit cross-legged, and this old man will help you get familiar with the method of the Gang Thunder Force."

The youth glared at Li Qidao once again, then obediently walked over and sat in front of the old man. Li Qidao felt that the youth's topknot was in the way, so he pulled it open casually, letting Wang Anfeng's black hair fall softly on his shoulders. The old man took a sip of wine and then gently ran his right hand over the top of Wang Anfeng's head.

Purple lightning flashed.

The pupils of the youth suddenly contracted, and the very world seemed to change in an instant before his eyes.

In the air were the thin streams of thunder, and although his body was sitting, there seemed to be another 'him,' following an ancient and distant voice beside his ear, performing all sorts of unfamiliar punches and kicks in the courtyard. These weren't any incredible martial arts but merely the most basic ones for laying a foundation—utterly simple boxing and leg techniques.

What circulated inside him was no longer the Inner Strength of the Golden Bell Shield, but another kind of upright and masculine power.

It was like the might of heaven, bestowing tremendous power to these ordinary punches and kicks.

Li Qidao lifted his palm and took another sip of wine, his gaze peaceful and distant.

The youth in front of him was sitting cross-legged, his expression blank as if lost in a dream.

The Immortal caressed my crown and granted me the hairpin of immortality.

.........

Once he opened his eyes, the sky was dark with stars and moon above, and a faint trace of thunder now existed in his body, flowing slowly along the trajectory of the Golden Bell Shield, making his body feel a bit numb before it was soothed by the warm internal force. The speed of cultivating this Horizontal Training Divine Skill had picked up slightly.

For the steady and solid cultivation of Buddha's Divine Skills, this was impressively rare.

Wang Anfeng was astounded, and then he heard the elder's voice, speaking irritably:

"Awake yet?"

"If you're awake, come and eat. I'm teaching you martial arts and even have to take care of your meals."

While speaking, the wooden door in front was lifted, and Li Qidao stuck out his head, white-haired and wrinkled, rolled his eyes, and called out:

"Hurry up, come over quick!"

Wang Anfeng clenched his fist, and a thin thread of thunder flared from his fist peak, just like in the dream. To control the might of heaven and earth with human power made the youth's heart leap, and he replied with a bright smile on his face:

"Yep, coming."

"What's for dinner today? Braised pork with preserved mustard greens or drunken chicken?"

"..."

After silence, the voice of the annoyed elder came through: "Eat, eat, eat, is that all you know? Why don't you eat yourself to death, you brat!"

"But Master, it was you who urged me to come and eat…"

"You!"

On this day, according to the Da Qin Calendar, it was the seventeenth day of the twelfth month, just after the End of Year Festival, and while doctors and purveyors of daily necessities such as firewood, rice, oil, and salt continued to provide services, and brothel girls became even more passionate than usual, many residents in the city packed up their belongings, travel expenses, and New Year purchases to set off on the official roads in all directions, heading back to their hometowns.

Only thirteen days were left until the New Year.

Wang Anfeng's cultivation followed a systematic approach, but during his spare time, he bought materials and made two lanterns himself, waiting to wrap them in bright red cloth and hang them at the door on New Year's Eve.

Li Qidao once said that Wang Anfeng was only a step away from becoming a Ninth Rank Martial Artist, but Master Ying scoffed at this, saying that the barriers for martial artists are the most challenging: every barrier is a lock, and there's no shortage of martial artists who have spent decades of their youth locked away without breaking through.

They are as plentiful as the carps crossing the river, too numerous to count.

Only constant perseverance and an absence of distracting thoughts can one gradually smooth over these obstacles with the effort as slow as grinding water.

Then comes those three concise and powerful words:

Go cultivate!

The youth obediently sat on the mountain stone, his eyes gentle and serene as water, watching the changes in the distant clouds and fog.

Having trained for some time now, his eyes had grown accustomed to gazing into the distance, and what was once illusory fog now began to reveal identifiable patterns to him.

The drifting of clouds was like the extension of boxing and kicking, or it resembled the leaping martial artists moving back and forth.

If the clouds stacked layer upon layer, it was akin to the unpredictable exchanges between masters, creating illusions hard to discern. Wang Anfeng often guessed wrong, but the youngster always enjoyed attempting to predict these changing patterns.

The Scholar standing with his hands behind his back nodded slightly.

A glint of admiration flickered in the sly fox-like eyes that were also as sharp as a knife.

He stiffened slightly, and the heightened perception of a peak martial artist instantly swept across the vicinity, only to find that he and Wang Anfeng were alone. He cleared his throat, lifted his chin a little higher, and his expression became even colder, his figure standing out in solitude.
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On the twenty-third day of the twelfth lunar month, Wang Anfeng bid farewell to the God of Stove and visited the peddler's house. Uncharacteristically, he bought a piece of stove candy to treat himself. The peddler, an old man, made the stove candy using a family recipe; it was incredibly hard, impossible to break by dropping, and had to be split with a kitchen knife.

Despite being quite heavy, the candy was exceptionally fine in texture.

Seeing Wang Anfeng come over, the old man cheerfully used a kitchen knife to chip off a small piece for the young man. Wang Anfeng held the candy and ate it for a long time, but his thoughts drifted again to the little girl who had been chewing on a candied hawthorn stick that day.

She must have rarely had candy.

She couldn't bear to spit out even the sour candied hawthorn.

His thoughts meandering, the young man swallowed the stove candy. His teeth were a bit sticky, but it was a nostalgic feeling that he cherished.

On the twenty-sixth day of the twelfth lunar month, when it was time to butcher the New Year meat, Wang Hongyi brought over plump pork. The young man took out a large iron pot and stewed it for several hours. The broth bubbled, and large chunks of pork tumbled in the juice.

One could easily poke a hole through the tender meat with chopsticks; it was so tender it melted in the mouth, the aroma of star anise and cinnamon mingling with that of the pork, lingering for a long time.

The days continued to pass in the young man's unsettled heart, and the more days that passed, the brighter his eyes shone. Even the most arduous cultivation could not prevent the corners of his mouth from turning up involuntarily. He felt the world was bright, and even the air seemed to be filled with a joyous atmosphere.

Finally, in the increasingly rich atmosphere of the New Year... Wang Anfeng's thirteenth year turned to its last day.

He woke up early, pasted the Spring Festival couplets, which were written by Mr. Jiang. The handwriting was excellent, though the couplets themselves were simple.

The old wooden door had been cleaned, adorned with newly bought door gods, and red lanterns were hung. Come nightfall, candles would be placed inside, and their warm red glow would light up in front of every household, like torches igniting in the mortal realm, calling out to the wanderers away from Great Liang Village.

New Year's Eve, everything begins anew; a world of renewal.

As dusk fell, Wang Anfeng went to Shaolin Temple early as instructed. After completing his cultivation, he wished all the masters a joyous festival.

Master Ying, impatient, scolded him for wasting time and left with a flick of his sleeves.

Ci Yuan agreed kindly and gave the young man a simple wrist guard. Vague texts from the Diamond Sutra floated on it, while Wu Changqing's expression turned a bit strange. First, he gave the young man an elixir, stroking his beard:

"This is an antidote pill, consider it a festive gift. Although due to the lack of materials, it can't really cure those exotic poisons, but if you wear it on your body, ordinary poisons will actively avoid you. It will be somewhat useful if you roam the Jianghu."

After pondering for a moment, he took out a mask from his bosom, his expression becoming stranger as he spoke:

"This is a Ninth Grade mask, capable of altering one's appearance."

"As you wander the Jianghu, you will surely need it. Of course, I am not the one saying this, it is..."

A chilling sword cry suddenly erupted.

The old man glanced in that direction, seemingly unaffected, and said:

"It's a gift from Master Ying."

The young man took it, and before he could speak, his vision blurred, and he found himself sitting on his bed back in Great Liang Village. Slightly dazed, someone was already knocking at his door, calling for him. It was Wang Hongyi, dressed in new clothes, merrily inviting him over for a meal.

In past New Year's Eve dinners, he was either at Uncle Wang's house or with Uncle Li, enjoying a rare feast of meat. Hearing the invitation, he nodded in agreement. As they stepped out the door, they ran into Mr. Jiang. Mr. Jiang had become acquainted with Uncle Wang at some unknown time; after a brief conversation, they decided to have the meal at Wang Anfeng's house.

With bright candles, the large round table, unused for seven or eight years, was brought out. Uncle Wang's son, Wang Pengcheng, had grown much stronger from the cultivation imposed by his father, but his impetuous nature remained unchanged. After boiling water, he wiped the table numerous times with a cloth.

Wang Hongyi, the butcher, also had superb cooking skills. He stir-fried on high heat, prepared many meat dishes, and set the table. He didn't usually drink, but today he made an exception and started competing in drinking with Uncle Li. The wife of the master rolled up her sleeves and entered the kitchen to prepare other dishes.

Mr. Jiang, holding a cup of wine, smiled gently. With measured sips, the delicately made Jiang Tianhong sat next to Wang Pengcheng on a stool, holding a big pork trotter in her hands, listening to the young man boast, her face blank and confused.

Da Huang sneakily took a chicken leg and laid down to eat, but within a couple of bites, a proud black cat snatched it away, strutted off, and tore it to feed her own kittens.

Wang Anfeng sat dumbfounded in his seat.

His house was not large, it had felt empty in the past, but today it seemed so small. The lively scene he had imagined countless times now surrounded him, yet it felt like a dream. He knew that in distant Tianhe County, along Jiangnan Road, and in the towering Shaolin Temple, there would definitely be people wishing him well from afar.

"Anfeng... Anfeng?"

The calling voice brought the young man back to reality. Wang Hongyi, tipsy, looked at him and laughed heartily:

"A new year calls for a new look. Come on, Anfeng, burp, let's have you make a wish, and we'll all listen..."

Everyone stopped eating and smiled at him as Wang Anfeng thought for a moment. His gaze fell on those familiar faces, and he said softly:

"I hope that everyone can be safe and joyful, and may all things go well."

And he hoped... next year, no, the year after, every New Year's Eve, they could be just like this.

"Hahaha, well said for safety and joy. To that sentiment, let's drink!"

Wang Hongyi laughed heartily, stood up to offer a toast, and everyone cheered along.

The sound of firecrackers came from outside the door. Although they didn't have the fireworks display of the big cities, the crackling sounds also brought the festive atmosphere to a new peak.

The young man hadn't drunk any wine, yet he felt entirely intoxicated.

The next day, Wang Anfeng went to pay New Year's visits to each family.

Underneath the big locust tree, there was no scholar with warm words and gentle laughter anymore.

PS: A long chapter is here, marking the end of the Great Liang Village arc~