Why do I have so many masters?

There was also Qin Fei, Tingyun, and during his first venture into Jianghu at the Young Phoenix Banquet, he had met Huangfu and Xiahou.

Just thinking that so many familiar faces would know about his own acts, which could only be described as madness, made Wang Anfeng’s ears start to burn again. Casting away these stray thoughts, he focused his attention back on the banquet itself, pondering the purpose behind the Imperial Grandson’s actions and the reasons for these people’s enthusiastic attitudes.

And what had revealed his identity was the long sword on his back, which he had never taken off.

Are rules really that important?

In Wang Anfeng’s mind, for some reason, there arose thoughts he had never had before. He had never doubted the commands of his elders, and he wasn’t concerned now about whether those commands were right or wrong, yet the thoughts in his mind were incredibly intense.

Mr. Ying had him carry the long sword at all times to familiarize him with this wooden sword.

But, what then?

This sword was already in harmony with him, and it could be said that there was no one else in the world who knew this long sword as intimately as he did. With a grip of his fingers, no matter when, he would never lose the balance of the sword in his hand; where the sword edge pointed, his heart directed, and no ounce of his strength would go to waste.

But, what then?

Why continue?

Was it to sharpen his will? Was it to comprehend the ultimate truths of swordsmanship?

Or was it to unify his vitality, spirit, and essence with the sword?

But all these actions, they affect the martial artist’s heart.

If one’s heart is as sharp as a sword, why cling to any set modes of conduct?

The martial artist values the primacy of Qi.

Zen Buddhism even more so practices the Heart Imprint Technique, a Dharma passed down outside of traditional teachings. When one’s state of mind changes, the Qi surrounding the body naturally fluctuates accordingly, but such change comes from within and is extremely subtle, invisible to others at a glance.

Before Wang Anfeng could continue his contemplation, he was already surrounded by a number of people.

They wore the same affable smiles on their faces.

"Young Master Wang..."

Inside the Shaolin Temple.

The scholar sitting lazily in the bamboo chair raised an eyebrow slightly, looking up from his book.

At that moment, Hong Luoyu was frolicking with a lean red horse in the desert, Ci had closed her eyes in meditation, delving into a Zen state, and Wu Changqing was holed up in the alchemy room pondering a new medicine. Although the scholar looked up, no one responded to his glance; silence ensued, and he had no choice but to redirect his gaze back down as if nothing had transpired, peering back at the contents of his book.

The book that had been readable before now seemed nonsensical, the author feeling like the utmost fool in the world.

Ci, who had been meditating with closed eyes, opened them and spoke evenly:

"What has happened?"

The scholar paused slightly, seemingly too lazy to look up, and let out a cold laugh, saying:

"That foolish boy has finally caught on...

"It took him a full three years to reach that step, heh, what dullness."

Shaking his head, the scholar looked back down at his book with disdain.

He nodded slightly.

Hmm, although the author of this book is a bit silly,

If one overlooks those foolish parts, it’s still worth reading.

Reached that step?

Ci’s expression changed slightly. When he sensed a slight fluctuation in Wang Anfeng’s aura through the Buddha Beads, he understood what the scholar meant. A look of relief appeared in his eyes as he said:

"To touch upon that step in three to four years is already quite swift."

Martial artists must first strengthen their muscles and bones through external means, relying on sharp weapons, seeking guidance from external objects. As their cultivation deepens, the process moves from the external to the internal, searching within themselves. Only then can they progress beyond the common warrior and touch upon the profound and mysterious principles of martial arts; otherwise, they will be trapped in their original realm for life, living in the shadow of their predecessors, with no part of their martial arts truly their own.

These things, they weren’t oblivious to, but they simply couldn’t directly tell Wang Anfeng.

In Zen Buddhism it is said, ’Seeing the mountain is a mountain, seeing the mountain is not a mountain, seeing the mountain again is a mountain.’

In the beginning and in the end, it is about seeing the mountain as a mountain, but the final state requires having seen thousands of mountains, having worn out countless pairs of straw sandals, having developed untold numbers of blisters, having fallen countless times, having sustained countless injuries, and then being able to see that what others speak of is but passing clouds, leaving no trace in one’s heart.

There are too many paths in this world that one must tread themselves to understand.

Words cannot convey everything, only personal realization can.

Once understood, it’s simply understood.

Atop the bluestone, the monk brought his hands together and chanted softly, saying:

"Amitabha..."

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

In the royal manor of Fufeng County.

Wang Anfeng was surrounded by people, almost unable to take a step.

Among these people, there were beautifully dressed young ladies, forthright Jianghu men, and handsome young heroes.

They encircled him completely, yet all they did was engage in pointless small talk.

Ironically, none showed their true intentions, making it difficult for Wang Anfeng to extricate himself. Just moments before, he had come to a realization, but now these people had stopped him, and those fleeting thoughts vanished like fireflies at sunrise, deepening the frustration within him.

Yet, these people were oblivious to this, and both emotionally and rationally, he couldn’t take out his anger on them.

So his mood grew even more stifled.

"Guardian of the Library, please wait."

Outside the crowd, a person strode up, pushing through the noble young men and women surrounding Wang Anfeng. Wang Anfeng felt the air around him clear significantly, took a deep breath, and then saw that the person also had a longsword slung at his waist, had a majestic stature, and clearly possessed profound martial arts skills.

His expression was cool and indifferent, not even glancing at the angry stares from the surrounding noble clans. Upon seeing Wang Anfeng, he casually saluted with a fist and said in a mild tone:

"Guardian of the Library, Mr. Lin would like to see you."

The expressions of the surrounding crowd changed.

As the Imperial Grandson was hosting the banquet today, they had all done their homework early, knowing whom they could befriend and whom they must not offend. This Mr. Lin was one of the three people they absolutely could not afford to offend, which was clear just by looking at the swordsman before them.

The low murmurs of complaint that had followed the warrior’s rough behavior vanished instantly.

The garden fell eerily silent.

Wang Anfeng looked up at the swordsman before him, noticing the latter’s right hand on the hilt of his sword, observing the blade spring forth an inch, gleaming silver, and seemingly alive with the flow of robust inner strength, sketching patterns in the air visible to the naked eye.

A high-grade martial artist.

Wang Anfeng’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The man held the hilt with one hand, his expression detached, and he repeated what he had just said, pausing a moment before adding:

"Mr. Lin places great importance on etiquette, especially punctuality."

Wang Anfeng and the man stared at each other for a few breaths. Wang Anfeng exhaled a turbid breath, feeling the oppressive atmosphere weighing down even heavier.

With that breath, it felt as if flames were scorching inside him, creating great discomfort. His right hand by his side moved its fingers slightly, then clenched them.

The realization he had before mingled with his breath, and within a yard of Wang Anfeng, there seemed to be the sound of a sword’s hum arising.

The crowd instinctively reacted, their neck hairs standing on end and their complexions turning pale, not understanding what had happened or why they felt this way.

It was only the swordsman who sensed the anomaly, his pupils constricting momentarily.

In his eyes, Wang Anfeng, who a moment ago felt somewhat stifled, now seemed like a sword drawn from its sheath, sharply intimidating, causing a slight pain at the center of his brows.

The weighty atmosphere he had established through words and actions was instantly shattered. He had the impulse to retreat, but by sheer will, he managed to suppress it.

The two had clashed silently, without stirring any phenomena, save for the garden’s plum trees trembling, shedding a few blossoms.

The swordsman raised his eyebrows slightly, looking deeply at Wang Anfeng, his expression growing a touch more serious.

Wang Anfeng lowered his gaze and said:

"Lead the way."

PS: Second update today, a long chapter... Can it be counted as an extra? (Attemps to bargain)