Why do I have so many masters?-Chapter 457 - 122: The Harsh Teacher (2/?)_2

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"There is something amiss in the city, I believe you’ve already noticed. These sects have suffered under our Heavenly Sword Sect in the past, and now they are all aiming at us. There is definitely another force behind them. When we were in the Taoist Temple earlier, one of them had blocked us."

It was the White Tiger Hall.

Wang Anfeng frowned and said,

"What do you want me to do?"

Hong Hui said, "If we just follow the original path to the Heavenly Sword Sect right now, it will be extremely dangerous. I know of another route."

His voice paused, then continued,

"However, this path hasn’t been trodden for a long time. I need to go ahead and clear it a bit, so we can pass through more quickly."

"I hope you can stay close to Feibai and the others."

"With your martial arts, there surely won’t be a problem. Once the task is accomplished, I think, the reward I offer, you will definitely not refuse."

Hong Hui’s gaze fell upon Wang Anfeng’s face.

His stern features seemed slightly softer, but it might also have been Wang Anfeng’s misperception. The youth frowned thoughtfully and agreed, saying,

"I will protect Feibai and the others."

Hong Hui nodded, seemingly unsurprised.

Wang Anfeng turned to open the wooden door for him but then remembered, every room in this inn had a key and a fist-sized copper lock. He wondered how this Elder of the Heavenly Sword Sect had gotten in.

As he turned around, he saw the blue and white sword robe float out through the window, so fluidly. He stared in a moment of stunned silence.

He walked to the window and could no longer see the man’s figure.

The youth slightly frowned.

The situation in the city was ostensibly lax but tense on the inside; these Jianghu people were merely scouts.

The Heavenly Sword Sect no longer possessed the imposing presence of years past. Now anyone dared to openly surveil them within Great Qin’s cities. Once they left this city, they would likely be reported to other experts lying in wait outside.

The city had almost become a trap. With the inn bustling with many people, any combat would inevitably attract the swift reaction of Great Qin’s iron troops, making a quick kill difficult and interrogation useless.

Unless one were to slay all witnesses, any disturbance would leave behind traces, providing others with an excuse to trouble them later on.

However, Great Qin’s iron troops would certainly not allow such large-scale Jianghu sword fighting in the city at this critical moment, and he also knew that the true experts of the White Tiger Hall were definitely lying in wait on the indispensable roads leading to the Heavenly Sword Sect.

Could it be that he really had another safe path to leave the city?

Wang Anfeng hesitated, but then he thought about this Elder of the Heavenly Sword Sect, a cold-hearted man capable of using his own daughter as a pawn to be sacrificed for treasure. Who could guarantee that this was not a repeat performance, where he would treat the other disciples as expendable pieces, absconding with the treasure and returning to the Heavenly Sword Sect alone?

Wang Anfeng stood in front of the window, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

Hong Hui had already returned to the courtyard under the third paulownia tree.

His expression was stern. No one could tell he had just been out. In the courtyard, several disciples were practicing with wooden swords, attacking each other.

The Heavenly Sword Sect emphasized actual combat. Even amongst fellow disciples, their attacks were extremely ferocious and direct. The only difference from real combat was the sturdy wooden swords in their hands.

Hong Hui paused his steps, as usual, standing by to give pointers.

Hong Feibai, holding a broken sword, stood under the eaves, alone, distancing himself from the other disciples.

His expression was focused, or rather, cold as ice. The swordsmanship he was executing was the style passed down within their lineage of the Heavenly Sword Sect.

Yet compared to the grandeur and freedom the technique originally strived for, the young man displayed only sharpness and swiftness. Holding just a Broken Sword, none of the other disciples’ combined brilliance could match half of his.

After giving pointers to the other disciples, Hong Hui walked up beside the young man and slightly furrowed his brow, saying,

"You’re doing it wrong."

"The speed is fast, but it loses the essence of the sword moves. Fast swordmanship isn’t everything. It’s only by slowing down that one grasps the true... "

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His tone of instruction, his demeanor, showed not the slightest difference from how he was on the mountain before.

Hong Feibai’s heart filled with revulsion.

Before Hong Hui had finished speaking, he had already sheathed the broken sword, turned around, and brushed past the middle-aged swordsman with an indifferent expression, not even glancing at Hong Hui.

The courtyard became terrifyingly silent in an instant.

The disciples who had been practicing swordsmanship all froze in place, subconsciously holding their breath.

Hong Hui, who had just extended his palm to give guidance to the young man, now seemed slightly stiff, though perhaps it was just the others’ misconception.

How could such a man, with a heart as hard as iron, as cold as ice, be like this?

He slowly withdrew his hand and stood there for a moment before walking back to the main house.

The once beautiful woman now had a face so pale it showed no hint of color. Over the past few days, her daughter’s every smile and frown had filled her eyes and heart; they say that a mother’s strength is strong but now, her daughter’s every smile and frown stuck in her heart like a dagger.

Upon hearing the door open, she only glanced over.

Her eyes were lifeless.

Hong Hui, walking beside her, remained silent, unsure of what to say. His gaze fell on the table, where the medicinal porridge he had prepared had gone cold; she hadn’t taken even a sip.

They had grown up together on the mountain since they were young, always this way: when he upset her, she wouldn’t get angry like the noble daughters down the mountain but would find ways to neglect herself because she knew that hurting herself was the easiest way to make him feel distressed.

And it was indeed the most distressing way for him.

It had always been like this since they were young.

Nothing had changed...

Hong Hui, silently picking up the bowl of porridge, summoned his inner strength to make it warm and soothing to the taste.

He held the just-right medicinal porridge in his right hand and offered it to the woman, who still did not even give him a single glance, her gaze blank as she stared out the window.

Hong Hui pushed the porridge forward a bit more and said in a deep voice,

"Drink it."

"After all, you are their Master’s wife. When I am not here, only you can lead them. Look, what is this like?"

"The Master’s wife? The Master’s wife..."

The beautiful woman murmured these words softly as if triggered by something. Suddenly, she raised her hand, almost violently tipping the bowl in Hong Hui’s hands, her eyes reddened for the first time with anger as she glared at her husband, her fellow disciple, her voice filled with pain, bitterness, and disappointment, she shouted,

"Legacy, legacy! Master, Master’s wife!"

"Ever since you became the Peak Master, you changed, your mouth keeps repeating these words. You wouldn’t fight when provoked, now even our daughter is dead, yet your mouth is still full of legacy!"

"Where has the elder brother of the past gone... Go away!"

"You are not him!"

"Not at all!"

As the woman spoke, tears already started falling; her right hand grabbed anything she could to hurl at the man in front of her, but Hong Hui did not move an inch, standing straight as she threw her tantrum.

He only protected the medicinal porridge in his hands. Once her rage was spent, her body exhausted, he casually placed the porridge on the table, picked her up, and carefully laid her on the bed, meticulously covering her with a blanket.

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After falling silent, watching his tearful wife, he lifted a hand wanting to tidy her disheveled hair by the temple. Yet recollecting Hong Feibai’s earlier reaction, his motion paused, and he decided not to continue, his hand dropped, his voice turned slightly warmer, and he said,

"You’ve suffered; have some rest for now..."

"When you wake up, everything will be different."

PS: Second update