Why do I have so many masters?-Chapter 296 - 6 Departure (22)_2

In the sky, the Flying Eagle flapped its wings as it descended.

The young man somersaulted onto the ground, with a White Jade Token at his waist, along with a Curved Saber sheathed in sheepskin, standing tall and sturdy, smiling and greeting the surrounding herdsmen with a rather amiable appearance.

Next to him, a little girl with cheeks red as apples whispered:

"Did he kill the Wolf King?...So impressive..."

Someone nearby laughed in response:

"Of course, Qibian Heli is the mighty eagle of Changsheng Tian, the bravest warrior on the steppe."

"Just a mere white wolf at that."

"Yes, I’ve heard... the tribal chief has always wanted to have Qibian Heli stay and serve in our tribe."

"But how could a mighty eagle be so easily subdued?"

............

Qibian Heli gave the white wolf to the chieftain of this place, ate the meat, and then, despite the latter’s repeated hints, willing to offer his youngest daughter in marriage, he returned to his own tent.

The Flying Eagle circled just outside the tent.

Kneeling on the ground, Qibian Heli prayed devoutly in the language of his hometown and then respectfully kowtowed with the Jade Token before him. A gleam flashed by, and when he raised his head, instead of the steppe’s tent, there stood a towering mountain peak before him.

A man wearing a dark golden mask stood with his hands behind his back.

The proud eagle of the steppe bowed respectfully and said:

"Subordinate has seen the Hall Master."

............…

A large hand slapped heavily on the table, causing the already unsteady table to wobble and dust to fall. A burly man shouted gruffly:

"No, that outsider must go!"

The village chief, with graying hair and beard, pursed his lips and said:

"But after all, he has taught the children to read and write. We might scrape a living from the dirt, but we can’t repay kindness with hatred...this, this kind of thing..."

Around ten people, all influential in the village, were seated nearby.

One of them, a middle-aged man dressed as a Scholar, stroked his beard and shook his head:

"Brother, you’re wrong there."

"This man has nothing to do with us. Why should he come and teach our children to read? Who knows what sort of ill intent he harbors. Besides, if they want to learn to read, I can teach them too."

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"Or is brother looking down on my scholarship?"

"I was once educated in a city school and took the exams."

"Surely I am no worse than that man?"

The village chief muttered to himself, thinking you’d naturally not go to him for learning since he charges so much Silver Coin.

Just then, the village witch chimed in, droning on:

"Yes, chief, I’ve long told you not to let this outsider in, and now look what’s happened?"

"Today’s snow and the broken wall are all divine warnings."

"We must prepare a pig’s head and the five sacrifices, and the village is to be changed to a place of worship to appease the anger of the Immortals..."

"What nonsense is the old lady spouting? Clearly, that land should belong to my brother..."

"Didn’t your brother die of plague years ago?"

"That’s why it should go to me..."

Outside the door, a little boy around thirteen or fourteen heard the adults inside disparaging a gentleman who spoke very kindly. They belittled him as worthless, and even while the gentleman was still there, they had already begun to covet his belongings. Clenching his teeth, he dug his fingernails into the wooden door.

The candlelight cast many people’s shadows onto the paper window.

As the flames flickered, the shadows moved erratically, losing their human shape and resembling the fierce demons and ghosts from stories.

The child bit his teeth in determination, planning to run out in the dead of night to inform the gentleman. He had barely taken two steps before he bumped into someone’s round belly. Caught off guard, he let out a cry, fell backward, pushed open the wooden door, and landed sitting in the room, gasping for air and rubbing his head.

Suddenly aware of the strange atmosphere in the room, his actions froze. Slowly lowering his hand, he turned his head and saw under the flickering candlelight, a circle of familiar faces quietly watching him. Perhaps it was the angle or the candlelight, but their expressions seemed eerie, like demons, and his face turned pale with fright.

............

The next day.

Sunrise.

Leading a group of villagers with pitchforks and sickles, the Witch at the head, they made their way to the cottage at the village entrance. They were fully prepared in their minds, disregarding the disgusted looks from the villagers along the road and even scoffing internally at the destitute has-beens.

Standing outside the house, a burly man loudly slapped the door and called out:

"Wang Shusheng? Come out, come out!"

"I’ve got something good for you."

After slapping the door repeatedly and getting no response, the man grew annoyed, snorted, and kicked the door. It was a typical door, no match for a kick. It fell inward with a crash. Upon entering and looking around, he found the place empty. He laughed heartily and said to the others behind him:

"Looks like the stranger knew what was good for him."

"Otherwise, it would’ve been only a matter of time before he’d learn how tough I am!"

Everyone nodded, murmuring to themselves, eager to credit the stranger’s departure to their own intimidation. While talking, they casually rifled through the items in the house. The Witch suddenly spotted a scroll painting that seemed quite valuable. She attempted to take it discreetly, but she was seen by others. Amid the ensuing argument, the scroll fell to the floor and unfurled.

Outside.

The boy who was discovered the night before rubbed his bruising forehead while watching the adults enter his teacher’s house, angrily kicking a pebble on the ground.

"Damn it..."

"These shameless people... If the teacher has locked the door, could he really have left...?"

Recalling the occasional hints of departure in the teacher’s words these past few days, his heart suddenly filled with sadness.

The teacher had indeed left.

At that moment, a piercing, sword-like sound came from inside, causing the boy to stiffen, hairs on his back standing on end. In the next moment, those who had barged into the house fled in a sorry state, wailing as if they lamented not having been born with an extra pair of legs, and several shoes were lost in their haste.

The most brash among them were pale, with damp stains on their trousers, tumbling and stumbling as they ran, crying out loud, drawing the pointing and commentary of the villagers.

Seeing this, the boy was at first taken aback, then he felt a rush of satisfaction and could not help but laugh. The laughter grew louder and happier; in the yard, the Iron Spear was still stuck in the ground, emitting a deep hum, and the lock had fallen off the door.

Remembering what the respected members of the village had said the night before, he found it all ridiculous.

He suddenly remembered a poem left by the Swordsman of the Green Lotus from a hundred years ago, which his teacher had once recounted, and he murmured:

The twists of the Wei River in my life, who knows this old man

Alas, today’s people, with both eyes watch the flying geese.

After speaking, he fell silent. The more he thought, the more suffocated he felt inside. Unable to bear it, he got up and ran wildly outside until his chest ached fiercely. Only then did he stop, standing by the road, cupping his hands to his mouth, and shouting:

"Teacher, take care on your journey..."

Wang Anfeng walked slowly, Xu Xing.

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With Jiang Shouyi’s ancient zither on his back, he looked at the vast expanse ahead, breathing out a puff of white air, and said leisurely:

"Jianghu..."

PS: The second update is here...