Why do I have so many masters?

The juniors behind him had been somewhat distracted, but now, as the elder paused mid-step, they instinctively halted and looked up, their expressions suddenly changing.

On the martial arts field, densely packed and sitting in meditation were hundreds of Ninth Grade and higher martial artists, long swords and blades placed across their knees, their eyes slightly closed, the sound of their breathing gradually synchronizing, creating the illusion of an indescribable, invisible behemoth lying atop the field with a Tai Chi Diagram, its breath pulling at the wind.

The immense oppressive force momentarily solidified the young one’s breathing, turning his complexion deathly pale as he murmured:

"This... what is this...?!"

"Watch closely... this is the Immortal Pavilion’s strongest trump card."

"Evergreen Immortality."

"If Blade Madman dares to come, he will surely be trapped here..."

The elder spoke slowly, eyes slightly open, his right hand, held behind his back, clenched almost imperceptibly—a subtle change that the youth behind him noticed, turning his shock into amazement.

The elder before him was on guard.

Instinctively on guard.

This meant that these Lower Third Rank martial artists had, in that instant, made a master who towered above the upper echelons of Jianghu feel his life was threatened.

But... how could this be?

A look of blank astonishment spread across the young man’s face.

Inside the great hall of the Immortal Pavilion.

The Pavilion Master, though already past sixty yet still refined and handsome, sat at the head of the hall with partially closed eyes. Below, a disciple reported back, bowing with a fist:

"Pavilion Master, the disciples from various branches have mostly withdrawn to the main pavilion, and a formation has already been laid out on the martial arts field."

"The remaining disciples, whose speed isn’t enough, have scattered throughout Fufeng County for safety..."

Xing Wenlun gestured for the disciple to withdraw and remained silent. The atmosphere inside the hall grew somewhat oppressive—a storm was brewing, and no one could maintain peace of mind, especially since the terrible news that Mei Feng and Qu Kang’an had brought back from the mountain.

Even Xing Wenlun was feeling unsure, uncertain of what kind of power Blade Madman possessed to be able to defeat both the Great Elder of his sect and the leader of the Giant Whale Gang, and after being surrounded, to leave one of his own Sixth Rank experts paralyzed in bed, meridians congested, a cripple in all but name.

He lifted his hand to drink tea, but the warm touch was missing from his lips. It was only then that he realized the tea had gone, though he couldn’t remember when he had finished it.

Considering a refill, he felt oddly reluctant to move, a trace of irritation creeping into his heart.

He placed the teacup on the table.

Xing Wenlun looked up at the great hall’s entrance, observing martial artists coming and going, and those from his pavilion forming a defensive formation on the martial arts field. Drawing from a common source of Inner Strength, they sketched the energies of Heaven and Earth, creating a faintly visible green vapor pillar that soared into the sky, resembling a towering mountain.

It was a secret technique, perceived by the founder of the Immortal Pavilion over a hundred years ago while meditating upon this mountain, genuinely not passed down to outsiders.

With a hundred disciples sharing the same source of Inner Strength, they could momentarily rival a Sixth Rank martial artist.

Alas, only in terms of Inner Strength could they rival one; they still stood no chance as opponents. Enjoy new tales from NovelBin.Côm

This time, aiming for a foolproof plan, he not only took out this dormant formation but also sought help from his connections within Jianghu, incurring countless debts of human sentiment. Yet the results satisfied him; the mountain was now clustered with more than twenty Sixth Rank martial artists. Though there were no Grandmasters, that number was sufficient to deter ninety-nine percent of the martial artists in the world.

Beyond that, from the ancestral pavilion, he had also retrieved many precious medicines to form another formation. Invisible and non-poisonous, it allowed his Inner Strength to temporarily reach the pinnacle of the Fifth Rank. If his ultimate skill was exerted, he could barely reach the Fourth Rank—the level just below a Grandmaster, the strongest level possible.

Then with the disciples forming the Formation to contain, himself attacking fiercely, and twenty Sixth Rank experts flanking,

Even a Fourth Rank Martial Artist would be destined to stay in the Immortal Pavilion.

Thoughts churned in his mind, reflecting on his meticulous arrangements for the day, the martial artists who had come to support, and confirming there were no oversights, his unease gradually vanished, replaced by the confidence and composure of a first-rate expert in Jianghu.

Above the Immortal Pavilion’s great hall, strange phenomena began to emerge, stretching for ten miles around.

Ding Song stroked his beard, his eyes slightly open, shaking his head and sighing:

"Such self-assuredness... It seems, Brother Xing has absolute certainty."

"It’s certain death for Blade Madman."

Just at that moment, a streak of light shot in, gliding on the wind through the clouds. In the sky, the gradually unfolding spectacle shimmered like a reflection in water, rippling and blurring under the swift impact.

Vigorous Qi dissipated.

A man clad in green Vigorous Attire stepped in briskly, his face twisted with a mix of rage, astonishment, and frustration.

Ding Song’s brows furrowed slightly.

What had happened?

In the great hall.

Xing Wenlun, slightly displeased, opened his eyes to behold the man who had burst in, disrupting his build-up of momentum.

But as a faction leader, his facial expression was fleeting, quickly returning to tranquility as he again lifted the empty teacup to his lips, saying indifferently:

"Brother Wu... what’s causing such panic?"

The man surnamed Wu’s face went through several changes, and with a resentful swing of his fist, he said:

"Stop all preparations!"

"That Blade Madman, he never intended to come to your Evergreen Mountain..."

Xing Wenlun’s expression froze for a moment.

After a long silence, he finally widened his eyes as if in disbelief, and said, "What did you say?"