Why do I have so many masters?-Chapter 355 - 51 Chapter Fufeng Mad Blade, Coming into the World (Part 2) (2/2)

In the branch hall of the Immortal Pavilion.

The middle-aged man began,

"You all should head to the library in the back courtyard shortly. As per the rules of our Immortal Pavilion, since you have just joined, you may each choose a Martial Arts Manual. Afterwards, inner disciples from the pavilion will come to instruct you."

"Each of you has only three opportunities to ask questions, and these are genuine Entry Rank masters, so do not waste them,"

"Go now."

Having said this, he casually waved his hand, and a row of children around six or seven years old somewhat awkwardly bowed to him with clasped fists before following a young man to the back courtyard.

The middle-aged man stood with his hands behind his back, gazing into the distance, slightly squinting his eyes.

This feeling of control over a place, of having everything in his grasp, was something in which he was quite indulged.

Just at that moment, a figure dressed in blue appeared behind him like a phantom, his body elusive. It was an old man with white hair and beard, displaying considerable Qinggong skills, who, stroking his beard, smiled and said,

"How are the new recruits this time?"

Turning around, the man first respectfully bowed before responding,

"The recruits this time are passable, barely usable. Perhaps in three months, half of them might have grasped the bare bones of Qinggong."

The old man nodded, saying,

"This time, recruit more outer disciples. Next year, it will be good to exchange them for Elixir Manuals at the pavilion."

The man nodded, replying,

"Your subordinate understands..."

Suddenly, a fierce and domineering aura surged violently, accompanied by the ringing sound of a blade.

It was like the gaze of a fierce tiger, instantly enveloping the entire branch of the Immortal Pavilion; the old man’s pupils contracted sharply as he stepped forward energetically. The ordinary children, meanwhile, froze in their tracks, unable to move a step further. The excitement about Jianghu on their young faces was instantly replaced by terror.

The old man’s expression shook as he looked in the direction of the noise.

What happened?!

A loud boom resonated, and more than ten martial artists flew into the pavilion from the entrance, crashing to the ground. They slid backward for over ten meters, their faces pale, blood spurting from their mouths and panic written all over their faces.

Dead silence fell over the place.

The crisp sound of horse hooves gradually became audible.

In the old man’s shocked gaze, a lean red horse strode into the area outside the front hall of the Immortal Pavilion, its steps unhurried. Atop it was a martial artist in his early twenties, dressed in black, with an unsheathed Mo Blade on his back, his face indifferent.

Wang Anfeng’s eyes swept over the old man and the middle-aged man standing slightly pale behind him, narrowing slightly.

Pan Ruishi, Qiguan Liu...

Recruiting ordinary children as disciples, training them, then sending them to gather herbs on cliffs.

Because before this, those children had already joined the Immortal Pavilion, even if they died harvesting herbs, Great Qin would have difficulty intervening.

The cold, burning intent of the secret report from within Gongsun Jing’s military flowed through his mind like water.

The young man glanced up and spoke faintly,

"Pan Ruishi?"

The old man’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression unchanged, already brimming with potent Inner Strength as he replied in an even tone,

"Indeed, it is I."

"I wonder what the distinguished name of the one who dares to barge into our Immortal Pavilion is?!"

"Truly imposing!"

Without waiting for Wang Anfeng’s response, the old man took the initiative by invoking the name of the Immortal Pavilion. His voice rich and resounding, spreading throughout the entire branch hall. Disciples who had been refining pills or cultivating in their rooms heard this and, without bothering to change, grabbed their weapons and rushed out. Discover stories with novelbuddy

Wang Anfeng, sensing the convergence of hostility, calmly said,

"You don’t need to know."

The old man sneered, seeing his young age and assuming he was one of those young novices from Jianghu who thought they could enact justice after learning a bit of martial arts. He began sharply,

"Quite the brash..."

Before the word ’foolhardy’ could leave his lips, a red flash crossed his pupils, followed by a chilling sensation at his neck.

Intense winds howled, causing his hair to fly wildly.

Wang Anfeng had appeared behind him.

The Mo Blade in his hand had already struck without anyone noticing.

The blade was chillingly sharp, yet not a trace of blood marred its surface. With a flick of his wrist, the youth narrowed his eyes and said,

"The dead don’t need to know so much."

The old man’s mouth opened as if he realized something, shock and fright appearing in his eyes. He tried to say more but only blood gushed forth. The next moment, his white-haired head dropped to the ground, rolling a couple of times before stopping at the right foot of the middle-aged man.

Silence pervaded the branch hall.

All the martial artists, who just a moment earlier had leapt out brandishing their weapons, seemed drained of all strength, staring blankly as the once mysterious and unfathomable Sect Leader fell to the ground, watching the elder bleed from his neck, lifeless.

The weapons in their hands suddenly felt extraordinarily heavy.

Wang Anfeng’s expression remained indifferent, though the Vital Energy within him had depleted slightly more.

It was thanks to the Vital Energy he obtained from Zhao Guang that he could, with a single slash, instantly kill a martial artist whose Internal Strength Martial Body was equal to his own Seventh Rank, thereby deterring all the warriors in the branch hall.

He wondered what that old fiend would think upon learning that he had used his Vital Energy to kill the Sect Leader of his own Immortal Pavilion.

With thoughts scattering in his mind, the youth’s face showed no change, still cold and indifferent. The lean red horse beneath him seemed to cooperate perfectly, its mane fluttering, almost with hints of fire. Steaming breaths escaped its nostrils as if it were a ferocious, man-eating beast.

The young man lifted his blade.

Pointing the sharp edge at the trembling middle-aged man, he said faintly,

"I’ve disturbed you."

"Are you Qiguan Liu…?"

The man swallowed hard, his voice quivering as he said, "No… I am not."

"Hero, you have mistaken me for someone else."

At this point, where was the complacent, hands-behind-the-back stance from before? He only wished for the god of death before him to leave quickly. Thankfully, it seemed that he only acted after confirming identities, and wasn’t one of those senseless madmen, which brought him some small comfort.

Just as he was thinking this, he suddenly heard the young man in front of him say:

"My apologies."

"Wrong answer."

The glint of the blade was cold and sharp as it cut through the void; the head of the middle-aged steward flew straight into the sky. Under the green cauldron at the front yard of the Immortal Pavilion, another body was added to the pile.

The scent of fresh blood became even more pungent.

The youth reined in his horse, brandishing his blade forward as he said calmly to the disciples of the Immortal Pavilion before him:

"If I say you are, then you are."

As his words ended, Vital Energy surged through his body at a rapid pace. Within several feet of him, the air seemed to twist, and everyone instantly found it extremely difficult to breathe. Their faces turned deathly pale as their pupils involuntarily dilated, and all they could hear was the sound of their own hearts beating wildly in their ears.

Wang Anfeng urged his horse forward.

It was not possible, nor was it his intention, to kill all the martial artists here. The military intelligence obtained by Gongsun Jing would only record those deeds that were considerably heinous.

He would execute the ringleader of the evil.

As for the remaining martial artists, as Master had said, he would plant a demon in their hearts. If they ever contemplated wrongdoing, they would remember the ordeal of this day. As for those children who were fooled into coming here, unaware of their own fates,

after today, if they couldn’t suppress the fear in their hearts, they would likely lose all interest in involving themselves in Jianghu.

In Jianghu, danger lurks at every step.

If they cannot even overcome this hurdle, entering Jianghu would be the equivalent of adding another pile of yellow sand and white bones by the river, and in the world, one more pair of white-haired parents sending off their black-haired child.

Better not to enter at all…

The crisp sound of horse hooves followed as Wang Anfeng rode his horse to a rather delicate-looking woman.

In her eyes of despair, he slowly began to speak:

"My disturbance…"

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

Outside the branch of the Immortal Pavilion, a crowd of onlookers had gathered.

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Among them were Jianghu people with swords slung on their backs, as well as ordinary civilians. Most bore expressions of curiosity, especially the Jianghu people.

Ordinary civilians might not know, but how could these wanderers of Jianghu not be aware of the standing of the three words "Immortal Pavilion" in Fufeng’s Jianghu?

There were about a dozen martial artists in the sect considered to be experts in Jianghu, all capable of leaping into the air and riding the winds. On ordinary days, they were rarely seen. Even the Sect Leader of this city’s branch was a famous Seventh Rank master in Jianghu.

Although he was aging and his Vigorous Qi was diminishing, making it perhaps impossible for him to ascend to Middle Third Rank again, a Seventh Rank Martial Artist had already become the ultimate goal for the majority in Jianghu.

With a wave of his hand, Vigorous Qi would envelop him, and with an easy draw of his sword, he could release Sword Qi, cleaving a space a few dozen feet around.

In the eyes of ordinary warriors, this was already a top-level expert in Jianghu.

And now, to think someone dared to challenge such a powerful entity, how could they not be consumed by curiosity?

Who was this person who took action?

Why did he dare to make a move against the Immortal Pavilion?

Will the one coming out be alive?

Or just another corpse?

While everyone was whispering furtively amongst each other, a sound came from within the gate. The faint noise suddenly vanished. Despite it being high noon, the street fell deathly silent. Every person held their breath, watching the opulent branch of the Immortal Pavilion attentively.

The clear clip-clop of horse hooves sounded.

The expressions of those martial artists changed abruptly.

It was as if a huge rock had been thrown into a lake, causing ripples upon ripples, endless undulations colliding into each other.

The sound of the hooves grew crisper, and the breathing of the crowd more subtle.

A red, underfed horse stepped out of the Immortal Pavilion at a leisurely pace, its head slightly raised, mane disheveled in the wind, looking like blazing flames. On the horse’s back sat a young warrior, no more than twenty-some years old, his expression indifferent, carrying a Mo Blade on his back.

Some eagle-eyed martial artists had already noticed that there was not a single drop of blood on the blade.

In people’s minds, confusion arose. They assumed that the young warrior had entered without any confrontation, but how could someone brazenly enter and then just as arrogantly leave, unless the person before them had some unclear relationship with the higher-ups of the Immortal Pavilion?

Despite this speculation, nobody dared to block Wang Anfeng’s path. The martial artists instinctively stepped back, clearing a route for him.

Having taken a dozen or so steps, Wang Anfeng’s pupils unexpectedly showed a hint of surprise. From within the crowd, he caught sight of a familiar figure, clad in a blue-and-white Taoist robe, handsome and dashing, but unfortunately as lazy as if boneless, sprawled on the back of a donkey, with one leg dangling lazily.

The Taoist also carried a longsword on his back.

Wang Anfeng’s eyes lit up.

Weiming Sect, Mu Shanxue.

Two years ago, amid a conflict between Wang Anfeng and Wei Qi, the young master of the Fire Refining Sect, it was this boneless Taoist who had stepped in to help. Yet today, they crossed paths here. Unfortunately, this wasn’t Fufeng’s keeper of books, so it wouldn’t be appropriate to approach and acknowledge each other proactively.

Wang Anfeng reined in his horse, watching his old acquaintance leave.

The surrounding people were curious, but dared not say much. As the youth’s gaze swept over, he suddenly raised his hand to draw his blade. Without looking, he slashed diagonally behind him. The blade was chillingly cold, and its cry unrelenting. The blade’s edge carried a profound Inner Strength that enveloped and drove the wind, slashing towards the Immortal Pavilion.

A collective gasp rose from the crowd as people scattered backward, but after a cracking sound, the gracefully inscribed plaque shattered into pieces. With a loud clatter, it fell to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The onlooking martial artists’ hearts almost leaped out of their chests. When they turned to look again, Wang Anfeng had already ridden off, while inside the Immortal Pavilion, it was as quiet as the grave, with no sign of life until a good while later when the more daring martial artists carefully ventured inside. Their eyes instantly widened, their legs gave way, nearly collapsing to the ground.

"This..."

PS: Here’s the second update for today, I ask for your support, and your votes…