Why do I have so many masters?

'Qiong Qi', the ancient ferocious beast, resembling a tiger with wings, known for devouring humans, naturally, no living creature like it would survive in this era. The term 'Qiong Qi' refers to a young man of notable status within the Famous Swords Organization.

Although Wang Anfeng didn't know his name, nor had he met him—unaware of his stature, whether slender or stout, handsome or ugly—they were already 'old acquaintances' from numerous matches.

Ever since descending from the Qingfeng Edge for the second time, Wang Anfeng had encountered assassination attempts by martial arts masters twice in succession. Their strategies were either meticulously planned or randomly executed but always ruthless. If not for fortuitous interventions by masters, he would have met his demise long ago, possibly even implicating close acquaintances like Yuchi Jie and Lin Qiaofu.

New and old grievances piled up layer by layer, pressing heavily on his heart.

At this moment, learning of the adversary's clear whereabouts felt like a heavy stone plunging into the river, stirring a ripple in Wang Anfeng's usually calm demeanor, from which a trace of killing intent naturally emerged.

Every time he remembered the appearance of his near-dead friend before him, that killing intent intensified, making him yearn to cut that young man into pieces and feed him to the wolves on the mountain.

Reflecting his state of mind, a chilling expression surfaced between his eyebrows. Coupled with his current stern swordsman appearance, he truly embodied a fearsome, ominous presence that deterred approach.

Relying on the might of the Divine Weapon, he had slain a Grandmaster on Jiangnan Road. A Middle Third Rank martial artist nurtures their Qi mechanism like ascension, while an Upper Third Rank martial artist views the splendor of the Jianghu effortless—every gesture, every step, carries the majesty of Heaven and Earth. The resentment and regret of that Jiangdong hero at the time of death partly dissipated into the heavens, partly linked with Wang Anfeng's Qi mechanism.

Such 'fierce aura' and 'killing intent' typically intimidate martial artists. Even a steadfast mind like Tie Lin would be startled. However, at moments like these, it naturally becomes hazardous, affecting Wang Anfeng's mental judgment.

A single thought can lead to Hell.

Overflowing killing intent is the path martial artists easily deviate from, and though Shaolin's Buddhist Law is broad and encompassing, their martial arts are exceedingly profound. The art of killing is foremost in the world, naturally harboring fierce aura, thus fueling his internal conflict, gradually nurturing the killing intent in his heart.

Fortunately, Ci instructed Wang Anfeng to read scriptures daily to dispel the fierce aura from his martial arts. Over the years, Wang Anfeng had gained considerable mastery in Zen Buddhism.

His burgeoning killing intent had scarcely begun to stir when Buddhist Inner Strength naturally flowed through his Eight Extraordinary Meridians, coursing thirty-six times in an instant. The gentle energy countered the killing intent, making Wang Anfeng shudder slightly, realizing his thoughts of murder had become somewhat excessive.

Earlier in his plan, he never intended to take 'Qiong Qi's life; however, in his present state, as long as Qiong Qi remained in Liangzhou City, he would surely fare ill.

Wang Anfeng even considered treating him as a Copper Man Statue, willing to exhaustively try every martial technique he had learned upon him.

Now recognizing his error, he immediately channeled his energy to clear away distractions, exhaling a long breath of turbid air, regaining clarity as the fierce aura vanished in an instant.

Suppressing the thought of immediately seeking a secluded alley, he returned to the Shaolin Temple to inquire thoroughly about Mr. Ying. Wang Anfeng once again took out pastries from his bundle, threw them into his mouth, and chewed slowly, pacifying his state of mind, then continued walking towards the North City.

Unless someone continuously watched him, they would merely think he had paused briefly contemplating something before proceeding, hardly noticing any anomaly, unaware that the stern swordsman had considered numerous murderous thoughts just moments before.

When Wang Anfeng emerged from Old Wu the Blind's place, his mindset felt somewhat relaxed. Now, having suddenly received such significant news, he naturally couldn't maintain the same tranquil composure as when he had arrived, leisurely observing the scenery along Liangzhou's streets, while internally grumbling about not finding the pastry shop Wuxin mentioned.

Although now maintaining an outwardly composed demeanor, his pace had indeed quickened, heading straight for a North City inn. It didn't even take a tea break before he saw the inn's signboard from afar. At that moment, he slows his pace, reciting scriptures with each step.

The Diamond Sutra, Prajna Heart Sutra, Avataṃsaka Sutra, The Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva's Original Vow Sutra.

Over and over, cleansing the dust of killing intent from his heart, returning to clarity.

As Master once said, slaughter is not to vent inner dissatisfaction but to conclude this karma.

Slaying is a means, not the end.

This time, Wang Anfeng didn't even plan to take 'Qiong Qi's life because his curiosity and wariness towards the organization capable of mobilizing Famous Swords were immense. Furthermore, he wanted to know why they targeted him and the Dongfang Clan, intending to start from here.

It's somewhat amusing that despite almost perishing at their hands, he still had no clue about the organization's background, status, or even its name.

Though Shi Huaidie had infiltrated them, she was originally merely a Sword Servant kept by 'Qiong Qi'. Now her position was also somewhat ambiguous, utterly insignificant, spending days cultivating in a secret location. The most prominent individual she saw was a burly old man, whom people around simply referred to as 'Master', without further title.

Thus, she had no way to speculate.

Wang Anfeng walked into the inn, paced up the stairs, and distributed the pastries among everyone before returning to his room. Initially, it housed four corpses, making the room extremely cramped; three had left now, and Xu Sixing's life signs gradually restored, looking more like a severely ill patient than a former corpse, making the room appear reasonably tidy again.