Why do I have so many masters?

Qingfeng Edge's Wang Anfeng wasn't here for the first time.

Although it had been a full three years, his memory wasn't so bad as to have completely forgotten this place. Even if some areas were a bit hazy in his mind, taking a few steps around the vicinity was enough to jog most of it back.

With nothing better to do, he casually strolled around the area to take in the local scenery, a way to release the frustration of having been smartly taken advantage of by Zhu Ling earlier.

Qingfeng Edge was a Hidden Sect. Although the land it occupied might not compare with the mountain and river estates of the famous Jianghu sects or the Taoist mountain gates, what was precious about it was the rarity of human disturbance. These mountains and waters remained as quiet and clean as they were a hundred years ago.

Without those scholars at the foot of the mountain wracking their brains to rank things like the "Eight Scenic Spots of Fufeng", the mountain remained much more tranquil.

The disciples of Qingfeng Edge typically cultivated in peace, rarely seeing outsiders. Their minds were as clear and pure as jade. But this year, right after the festivities, many disciples from Noble Clans, thick with the smokey air of the mundane world, surged up the mountain, disturbing its natural harmony.

Elder Xuan, who guarded the gate, was infuriated by this. She spent her days swinging her Matched Sword, and her eyes, sharp like daggers, swept over those 'stinking men', chilling anyone who met her gaze.

After this woman, who was over thirty yet whose appearance hadn't changed, decisively dealt with a few well-trained troublemakers from the Noble Clans, the atmosphere of the mountain was cleansed, and the mischief subsided considerably. The Noble Clan youths, after calming down, thankfully didn't bring the bluster they showed at the base of the mountain up with them.

They were arrogant, but not stupid.

Those who were both arrogant and stupid had already been tied up at home to prevent them from causing trouble and dragging their parents through life-and-death ordeals. At least these ones had some sense.

They knew that if they faced bullying down the mountain, they could call for their fathers, and if their fathers couldn't help, they could turn to their grandfathers. But to cause trouble here? Where simply wielding a withered branch could make three generations fall to their knees with a thud, incessantly kowtowing and weeping for mercy.

One stroke of the sword to break three thousand miles, any tough bones could try their luck.

We shall not oblige.

In any case, those Noble Clan youths decked in splendid attire and mounted on fiery horses became as meek as domesticated mongrels once they ascended the mountain, almost wagging their tails in obedience.

The sword-wielding disciples of Qingfeng Edge were initially curious about these peers from the foot of the mountain, but now that they had seen enough, they lost interest, believing that even their swords were more engaging.

Seeing Wang Anfeng, they treated him no differently from those Noble Clan youths, figuring that his ancestors had paid a price of some sort to squeeze him into this mountain gate. Maybe after a few months he might grasp a trick or two, or perhaps he would gain nothing at all and leave the mountain in a sorry state.

At most, they were only curious that the material of the green shirt he wore seemed to be of even lesser quality than the Sword Robes within the gate. He also appeared easy to talk to, unlike those Noble Clan youths, and the thing slung on his back was not one of the famously high-quality swords from the common world, but simply a Wooden Sword.

If this Wooden Sword held some incredible secret, it certainly didn't show; it was just a shabby Wooden Sword blackened with varnish, not even possessing a proper Sword Scabbard. If one threw it onto the street, likely no one would want it. Even if picked up to burn as firewood, one would worry about too much moisture causing excessive smoke.

He must be very poor.

Without even a good sword...

The disciples who passed by looked at Wang Anfeng with a hint of pity in their eyes.

And facing these disciples' gazes, Wang Anfeng simply nodded genially, seemingly unconcerned. Even if he truly understood what these disciples were thinking, he wouldn't allow himself to feel embarrassed or lose face over it.

He had always been poor, and he was unabashed about that one fact.

Fortunately, he didn't have to pay for the salaries of the subordinates in the Giant Whale Gang; otherwise, he would undoubtedly be even poorer than he was now.

Among the disciples he had encountered on the way, Wang Anfeng remembered many of their faces. However, these disciples, who spent their days practicing martial arts and swordmanship with simple minds, probably didn't remember him. Their looks were cautious but unfamiliar.

He hadn't seen a few disciples from the Qingfeng Edge whom he had known well on the mountain. He wondered if they were cultivating somewhere on this mountain, or if they had taken matched swords from the Elder at the mountain gate and had gone down to roam the world of Jianghu.

Not being able to meet old friends filled Wang Anfeng with a bit of regret.

Wandering leisurely, he had unknowingly bypassed the many halls of the Qingfeng Edge and arrived at the rear mountain of the Hidden Sect. This place was different from the front halls and was unlike the sharp Sword Qi of Myriad Swords Peak.

As far as the eye could see, numerous mountain peaks were hidden in the clouds, appearing and disappearing intermittently. Poets often liken clouds to the sea, and it was in such a view that one could truly appreciate its wonder. Wang Anfeng took a deep breath, his chest suddenly feeling expansive.

On this rear mountain, there lay an indolent young disciple, presumably one of the noble clan's children who had come up from the foothills to Qingfeng Edge. His left arm was raised as though to block the sunlight, shielding his eyes and thereby concealing most of his face.

He wore a white robe.

This was the place behind the Qingfeng Edge's many halls, known as the "Stepping Clouds and Observing Mists" spot, ideal for calming the mind and unraveling the Qingfeng. However, next to this youth, there was no sword to be found, just two jars of alcohol, one of which had been emptied and laid upside down on the ground.

One could vaguely see that the remaining wine was extremely clear, exuding a sharp aroma that hinted at a high-quality, expensive brew.

Expensive wine isn't necessarily good, but good wine is definitely expensive and sometimes exorbitantly so.

Wang Anfeng knew this all too well.

Seeing the young man apparently napping and slacking off, Wang Anfeng walked to the side, planning to pass by him, when suddenly, as if having a nightmare, the young man's body shook violently, and he woke up with a start, sitting up to reveal his face.

Although remnants of shock lingered on his countenance, it wasn't difficult to discern his handsome features, with eyebrows like swords and eyes like stars, and a nose proud and erect.

His black hair was tied into a ponytail with golden rings, sleek and trailing down his back, while the untamed stray hairs seemed to have a mind of their own, not so sleek, giving him a somewhat unruly and bold air.

It was only when he sat up that Wang Anfeng noticed the young man did possess a weapon after all—a short dagger slung to one side of his waist, which was only a few inches longer than an ordinary dagger. If called a weapon, it appeared more as an ornament signifying one's status.

Wang Anfeng didn't really care, but as his gaze swept over the somewhat dazed face, his body suddenly stopped, his eyes widened with disbelief, and he exclaimed,

"Huangfu?!"

The young man jolted awake and blurted out subconsciously:

"I've already said I was practicing sword on the back mountain, help me keep it a secret…"

Before he could finish his sentence, he realized that the person before him wasn't one of the dandies who had joined Qingfeng Edge with him. Instinctively, he tried to expel the drunkenness, his eyes clearing as he took in the sight of the young man in a green shirt with a sword on his back.

He paused, incredulous, and rubbed his eyes forcefully. When he looked again, it was still the same face. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as joy spread across his face, and he burst out laughing.

Without seeming to exert any effort, he sprang up from the ground, and a waft of alcohol hit Wang Anfeng, but he managed to withstand it. The young man had already stepped forward with open arms for a bear hug, his eyebrows raised in delight, laughing loudly:

"Hahaha, it really is you…"

"Anfeng!"

He seemed overjoyed, hugging Wang Anfeng tightly before stepping back to look him over. Patting Anfeng on the shoulder with a grin, he said:

"Not bad, not bad, you've bulked up quite a bit."

"You're no longer that little shrimp in Jianghu who hadn't even reached Ninth Grade, hahaha…"

"Not bad, not bad!"

Seeing the young man before him, Wang Anfeng's regret of not encountering an old friend vanished. They had met at the Fledgling Banquet and been through life and death together. After burying Liu Wuqiu, they went their separate ways. By his count, it had been at least three or four years since they last saw each other.

This was like meeting an old friend in a foreign place, one of life's great joys. Wang Anfeng was genuinely happy and joked a bit as he said:

"Regardless, I've inherited Master Liu's teachings."

"If, after all these years, I still couldn't make it into Ninth Grade, wouldn't that be too embarrassing for both you, Huangfu, and Xiahou?"

"How would I have the face to go mooching food and drinks from you in the future?"

Huangfu Xiong thought for a moment, his face full of righteousness, and nodded in agreement:

"That's true."

And then he burst into hearty laughter.

He had been lying there after sneaking some drinks and thought his shirking of sword practice had been discovered, which was why he woke up startled. But now that he saw Wang Anfeng, he felt even more at ease and simply sat back down.

He stretched comfortably, propping himself up with one hand and looking lazily at the wooden sword on Wang Anfeng's back. He chuckled:

"It seems Anfeng, you've had some adventure yourself, switching from fist to sword?"

"It's a bit of a pity, though. Your fist technique back then might not have been strong, but it was solid. If you had continued to practice it, your future achievements would be significant."

Wang Anfeng didn't beat around the bush and sat down cross-legged across from Huangfu Xiong, smiling as he responded:

"I haven't given it up, just using the sword more often now."

He said, patting the wooden sword behind him.

Huangfu Xiong nodded as if he understood, and Wang Anfeng added silently in his mind.

The Hidden Sect naturally only taught swordsmanship.

Those adept at external martial arts, Fist and Foot Gun Techniques, were of the Giant Whale Gang's Young Master Ying Lie; there were also those proficient in assassination, Thunder Vigor, and saber techniques...

Well, "now" he was mostly using swordsmanship.

It wasn't exactly lying.

Wang Anfeng didn't want to dwell on this topic and looked at Huangfu Xiong, asking with a smile:

"So Huangfu, you've started practicing sword as well?"

"I remember your Noble Clan is known for their saber technique, and you chose fist over saber. Why have you started practicing sword now?"

Huangfu Dao just sighed without answering directly:

"Practice sword?..."

Wang Anfeng was puzzled and asked:

"Then why are you here at Qingfeng Edge?"

Facing the question, Huangfu Xiong's face fell. He rubbed his face and said, the young man from the four Noble Clans whose Cultivation of overpowering fists was almost second to none, fell silent. Resting his hand on his forehead, he muttered:

"I'm here running for my life... hiding from a pesky girl..."

PS: Presenting the second chapter of the day...