Why do I have so many masters?

As if in response, at the moment the longsword in Wang Anfeng's palm vibrated with a hum, the morning bell started to sound from within the Academy.

Amid the bell's tolling.

Wang Anfeng's mind flowed smoothly, and his movements were without reservation.

The Golden Bell Shield's Inner Strength surged within his body, its nature masculine and vast. The elegant and exceptional footwork of the Divine Thieves Sect, the "Moon-Stepping Technique," thus underwent a sudden transformation, resembling a fierce wind and a wild rain, like thunder traversing the wilderness. In a blue gown, he appeared in the blink of an eye before the first two martial artists.

He suddenly came to a stop.

Twisting his body and raising his arm, Vigorous Qi erupted violently.

Despite wielding only a wooden sword, in that moment, he unleashed the most dazzling sword light.

The two martial artists in front hadn't even had the chance to react when they were struck head-on by a charging elephant, their figures suddenly flung backward as their eyes lost all signs of life.

They opened their mouths unconsciously, coughing up large mouthfuls of blood.

The blood, like blossoms, streaked past Wang Anfeng's face.

In his eyes, there remained only calmness.

Amid a thunderous boom, the two martial artists directly collided with the wall, their vitality withered. The two Ninth Grade martial artists, in a single strike, were severely injured and lost consciousness. At this moment, the other martial artists, finally regaining awareness, let out furious shouts and, holding their sharp blades, all charged at Wang Anfeng.

Under the chilling glint of blades, Qi Force roared like a dragon.

Meng Yuexue, who was carrying the sword scabbard behind him, turned deathly pale and couldn't help but cry out:

"Be careful!!"

Wang Anfeng's breathing gradually steadied, and his black pupils grew deeper.

Just as a heavy blade was about to strike, his black pupils suddenly brightened, and he took a half-step back. The blade's edge, sharp and close, merely grazed by the young man's nose. At the same time, Wang Anfeng's left hand had already been raised and precisely grasped the swordsman's right hand, which wielded the blade. With a fluid motion and the sound of a snap, the swordsman's wrist was twisted out of shape.

And the longsword lost its original trajectory, having been controlled and barred in front of Wang Anfeng.

In the midst of resounding clangs.

Several weapons slammed against that longsword.

The Eighth Rank blademan, almost instinctively exerting force, however, stood no chance. Amid a ripping sound, the stark white bone protruded from his wrist, and he could no longer endure, screaming out in agony. At the same time, the assaults of several others were blocked, raising only a slight breeze that caused the young man's fringe to flutter slightly.

Revealing a pair of fierce eyes.

Among these martial artists, there were not a few who had seen Wang Anfeng before, but they only felt that the youth before them, unlike the gentle, smiling, well-mannered, and personable book collector they were used to, was completely different. They couldn't help feeling a tremor in their hearts.

Almost simultaneously, Wang Anfeng's right leg shot forward abruptly, instantly producing several afterimages. It was incredibly vicious, striking at the vital points on the bodies of several martial artists in front of him. They were all caught at a moment when their old strength was spent, and new strength had not yet arisen. And for some reason, the leg technique was extremely clever and difficult. Before they could react, their faces turned deathly white, and they spewed fresh blood.

They tried to retreat, but were drawn in by the Inner Strength surging along the blade's edge, unable to escape as they wished.

The young man's right foot landed back on the ground, creating a circle of Vigorous Qi.

Shaolin Ultimate Skills,

The "Shadow-Following Leg Technique."

Gained in Copper Man Lane after suffering 1,567 grave injuries, he mastered its form but not its essence.

The "Cavity Breaking Method," the legitimate heir's teaching of Medicine King Valley.

Without being a legitimate heir,

It is unsolvable.

Just then, a subtle and sharp whooshing sound emerged by his ear, as if it came from the left, then the right, suddenly in front, and then abruptly behind, elusive and traceless as if an illusion, clearly indicating the approach of a master in hidden weapons technique.

Wang Anfeng's expression remained unchanged, his left hand still clutching that blade, his right hand wielding the sword. With a motion as if drawing circles, sounds of "ding ding dang dang" rang out as flying needles, flying daggers, and flying locust stones, no matter the technique used to shoot them, all revealed their true forms within the sword circle, shocking the martial artists who released the hidden weapons pale-faced.

Wang Anfeng's hand holding the longsword gave it a push and a pull, his wrist vibrating.

The longsword, like a dragon, took all those hidden weapons and soared into the sky, a resounding whooshing sound filling the air.

The art of "Listening to the Sound to Distinguish Position,"

The Divine Thieves Sect's legitimate teaching.

The art of swordsmanship, the technique passed down from the leader of the Jianghu, the divine intention taken from the world's Sword Saint.

Wang Anfeng's right hand released the wrist of the Eighth Rank blademan.

The several martial artists in front of him were already pulled by Inner Strength, unable to retreat, and instead, they blocked the opportunity for others to advance. At this moment, as Wang Anfeng willingly let go, naturally, they were immensely relieved, staggering backward. At this moment, the young man's eyes slightly widened as he lifted both palms and pushed forward fiercely.

Behind him seemed to appear the phantom of a Ming King.

The majestic sound of the bell trembled, the boundless and fierce Palm Power shot out from Wang Anfeng's palms as if it were an enraged dragon, endless in its fury, striking fiercely at the abdomens and chests of those martial artists who were completely unprepared.

Thus, in the terrified gazes of these martial artists, and after Meng Yuexue's cry, with her lips lightly covered,

The wild Qi converged as if tearing off a mask of tranquility, a tiger awakening.

The more than a dozen martial artists, caught off-guard by Wang Anfeng's sword release, were instantly blown away by the Palm Power.

Blood spattered down in torrents.

In the space before Wang Anfeng, not a single person remained within ten meters.

In mid-air, Vigorous Qi swirled around the wooden sword, bringing down those hidden weapons with it.

The young man's right hand reached out behind him, firmly grasping the sword handle. The Vigorous Qi entwined, and the array of hidden weapons did not fall to the ground. Instead, they were pulled into orbit around Wang Anfeng, spinning like a galaxy of stars, their speed increasing and their force intensifying. Inside the young man's belt pouch, several intricate jade vases opened unknowingly, and their faint medicinal fragrances mingled together, enveloped by these hidden weapons.

With a sudden shake of his wrist, he then led and directed it toward the front.

Like the mighty Yangtze River falling from the heavens, the hidden weapons were shot out with even greater speed against the flow.

The wave of air stirred up by the Prajna Palm's powerful Qi had not yet settled, limiting everyone's vision, but in Wang Anfeng's eyes, it was as clear as day, with no obstruction whatsoever.

The moment the hidden weapons penetrated the acupoints of those martial artists, screams of agony rang out, with countless of them collapsing, not knowing their fate.

Occasional cries of alarm could be heard, as the complexions of martial artists struck by the hidden weapons turned purple and they fell into unconsciousness, insensible to the world.

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Wang Anfeng's expression remained calm.

The martial prowess of fists and palms, the Prajna Palm, was the foremost palm technique among the Shaolin Ultimate Skills.

The art of poisoning, the Legitimate Heir of the Medicine King Valley.

The poison used, his own concoction, with all detoxifying medicines below the Seventh Rank,

Inefficacious.

With a flick of his wrist, the wooden sword was thrust upside down into the ground.

Wang Anfeng took a slight inhale, thunderous patterns faintly visible within his black pupils. He suppressed the Thunder Vigor from revealing any anomalies on his body, allowing it only to show along the edge of the longsword, where strands of blue lightning traced erratic and intertwining paths, growing increasingly volatile.

With a sudden loud shout, he reversed his grip on the hilt, wrenching it around with the strength of his waist.

Amidst the resounding sword cry, a stream of lightning-entwined Sword Qi shot from the ground up toward the sky, charging forward.

The bluestone pavement shattered upon contact.

A powerful blast of air was cut through the middle, and the martial artists, realizing the imminent danger, scrambled frantically to either side to avoid it. In an instant, the Sword Qi had already passed them by, leaving numerous weapons on the ground sheared apart as if they were rotten wood.

The Sword Qi ceased at a distance of a hundred meters.

On the long path of the Academy, there now lay a smooth and straight sword mark, still outlined by traces of the lightning Sword Qi that flickered intermittently, causing the martial artists' complexions to turn even paler.

The bell of the Academy continued to echo.

The morning bell of the Academy, to awaken its disciples, resounded for sixty breaths.

It had started at the moment Wang Anfeng drew his sword.

And had not yet ceased.

While in the forefront, no one dared to engage in battle anymore.

In the dead silence, it seemed someone spoke up, forcing themselves to say,

"He, He must surely be at the end of his strength by now!"

Before a single breath had passed, someone responded, their weapon cleaving the air as they loudly shouted,

"Indeed, no matter how strong his martial arts, he is just a boy in his teens."

"Even if he's a prodigy, how strong could his martial arts possibly be?"

"Let's all join forces, and take down this kid!"

"That's right, absolutely!"

"Kill him!"

Murmurs of consensus began to grow, the martial artists seemed extremely angry, having seen through the fact that Wang Anfeng was now just a paper tiger. The sounds of weapons cutting the air, the calls for companionship, numerous and varied, the collective mood was boiling over, frightening in its intensity.

Meng Yuexue, standing several meters away, also felt fear in her heart, her face paling.

Wang Anfeng, though his Internal Strength had greatly depleted at this moment, still maintained his calm demeanor. His eyes swept across those ferocious-looking martial artists, and he took a slow step forward.

The shouts of rage instantly fell silent.

The martial artists, who had just been eager to swiftly cut down Wang Anfeng, were as if struck with fright, retreating uniformly.

Wang Anfeng lifted his gaze to the surrounding circle of martial artists, finding their reaction laughably absurd. Thus he let out a laugh, his voice clear and ringing, resonating with the sound of sword cries. The martial artists in front of him were flushed with shame and anger, yet none dared to take a step forward. Amidst the laughter, Wang Anfeng raised his wooden sword in hand, pointing straight ahead.

Before the sword's edge,

No one dared to stand.

The laughter of the young man gradually subsided as he looked at these martial artists. His expression became calm as he said in an even tone,@@novelbin@@

"Clowns seeking attention, who dares to fight?"

His voice was calm, but at this moment, with a dozen martial artists coughing blood and lying unconscious, with dozens more too fearful to advance, in the face of such overwhelming martial prowess that no one could withstand, his words came across as more domineering and disdainful.

Chuan Lian behind him had his eyes wide in disbelief as he looked at the figure ahead, while Meng Yuexue felt a slight disbelief and an indescribable reverence growing in her heart. A lone person, with just a sword, had fought until no one in front could continue the battle - such a tale belonged in the legends of Jianghu.

Yet now it was reality.

Wang Anfeng held his longsword and advanced slowly.

The crowd ahead did not dare to make any reckless moves, but instinctively retreated.

One man drove back dozens of martial artists, and the two behind him felt as if they were in a dream, only to see the peaceful-faced young man in blue growing further away from them. At this moment, Wang Anfeng suddenly paused in his steps, turned sideways to look back at the two from Pharmacist Valley, his expression still serene, though a streak of blood on his left face added a touch of grim fierceness, and he spoke gently,

"Brother Chuan, Miss Meng."

"Why not journey together?"

PS: First update