Why do I have so many masters?

Atop the peak of Inner Valley in Pharmacist Valley, clouds and mist stretched endlessly.@@novelbin@@

Leng Che's murderous aura silently spread between the gazes of the people, fragmenting into invisible shards of ice. Whether it was the green-clothed disciples holding powerful crossbows or the black-clothed assassins wearing masks, everyone had heightened their attention to the utmost.

Kill,

or be killed.

Die,

or survive upon the blood and flesh of others.

In the Jianghu, the bloodiest and most barefaced aspect was confronting head-on right here. Even if they were merely pieces about to clash in battle, who would care about a young man who had lost his wits?

Besides, that young man would soon become a cold, lifeless body.

Who would care for a dead person?

Everyone's thoughts began to freeze over, no one daring to move rashly. At this time, in this realm of Heaven and Earth, even breathing seemed like a sin that was not allowed; everyone's breath was exceedingly gentle. Nearly a hundred martial artists with extensive Inner Strength stood atop this narrow peak, yet the silence was maddening.

Just when everyone thought that this scene would endless stretch on, in the sky, clouds converged and a light rain trickled down, making the still atmosphere eerily quiet, which only added to the solemnity of this grim setting.

The ink-colored crossbows were wetted by the rain.

After what seemed like eternity, a martial artist could no longer bear the slick feeling of his palm against his weapon and subtly moved his hand.

The previously static balance was instantly shattered.

Thunder angrily roared above the heavens.

The sounds of swords clashing and crossbow bolts tearing through the air exploded in an instant; pent-up killing intent erupted at that moment.

A man in green robes and a towering assassin from Danfeng Valley streaked forward in a flash—one wielding a knife to slash horizontally, the other trusting his sword straight-forward. 'Life Snatcher' was aged and weak in blood and breath, but his Inner Strength was old yet increasingly firm and more mellow, not retreating in the slightest. With both hands striking forward furiously, he clashed intensely with them.

Wang Anfeng appeared absent-minded, but even so, the body that had survived numerous battles reacted instinctively, lifting the Wooden Sword in his palm, thrusting forward in an instant.

A thunderous Qi Force erupted.

The incoming crossbow bolts were incredibly met by the edge of the sword, right on the tip of the bolts.

The green-clothed young disciple who shot the bolt could not believe his eyes as they widened in disbelief. Wang Anfeng's right wrist hurt slightly, but he exhaled sharply and stepped forward, his wrist turning in such a way that the bolt, theoretically capable of sniping an Eighth Rank martial artist, was deflected by the Wooden Sword off to the side.

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But in the blink of an eye, three masked assassins closed in. The forces on both sides seemed to have reached consensus at this moment, with killing moves coming one after the other, all targeting Wang Anfeng. The young man wielded his longsword, and despite the deadliness and sharpness of his swordsmanship, even in such a desperate situation, he only fell slightly to the disadvantage temporarily, yet remained unhurt, let alone dead.

At this moment, a severe and grim voice suddenly came from the side.

Wang Anfeng stepped back, raising his longsword. The Golden Bell Shield's Inner Strength and the Thunder Vigor within his body almost instantaneously exploded with their strongest power, narrowly blocking the sneak attack of that sword, with only an inch of the Sturdy Sword touching on the ridge of Wang Anfeng's Wooden Sword.

The two almost reached a stalemate in an instant.

However, Wang Anfeng's complexion turned pale, his body's Thunder Vigor gradually dimming, he could no longer withstand the force, and was slowly pushed backwards.

The tea shop owner, holding a longsword, was astonished at the young man's strength far above the Eighth Rank, yet his expression remained calm as he smiled and said,

"Young Hero Wang, I also have my difficulties."

"Heroes create benevolence through killing; please save me, lend me your head."

The crossbow bolts shot from all around were all blocked by Xue Qinshuang with her sword. Even though seven or eight martial artists surrounded her, the maiden still managed to fend them off, not the least bit disadvantaged. Wang Anfeng clenched his teeth and said:

"Get lost!"

The tea shop owner shifted his longsword, moving it with the craftiness of a Spirit Snake tearing toward Wang Anfeng's shoulder, cruel and vicious, yet his face was exceedingly kind, smiling as he said:

"What's wrong? Isn't a martial artist supposed to fight for others?"

"But I somehow feel that all those people died because of you."

"Whether it's the maidens from Fufeng City or the innocent villagers of the Outer Valley of Pharmacist Valley, it's because of your own recklessness that they died. Even your good friend beside you fell into a dead end because of you! Tell me, do you still think your so-called chivalrous heart is a good thing?!"

Sword after sword was relentless, each more vicious than the last, and even more cutting than the sword edge were his words.

Each sentence more ruthless than the last.

For martial artists, life and death often depend on a moment's action. Wang Anfeng's mentality all but collapsed in an instant. As much as he once believed in it, now he was equally devastated. With his concentration gone, his footwork faltered, and with his footwork gone, his rhythm was lost.

And with rhythm gone, where would his life be?

Already fighting an uphill battle, and now with his mind in disarray, Wang Anfeng's swordplay inevitably slowed. The Wooden Sword in his palm was knocked away, and the tea shop owner had no intention of killing him outright. Lifting his right foot, he heavily stamped on Wang Anfeng's chest, kicking the young man back a dozen steps,

Standing with his sword, he sneered:

"In the end, this world is a place of great contention."

"From a young age, fighting for favoritism with your siblings—if you don't fight, you go hungry. Growing up, competing with the world—any hint of warmth is just a veneer of peace masking the underlying struggle. This world is a brutal one, and this human realm is filled with strife and the snatching of lives!"