Why do I have so many masters?

Ever since the day Jiang Shouyi scolded him, Wang Anfeng had begun to gradually restrain his behavior.

Although he still went up the mountain to chop wood as before, he no longer dragged the wood directly to the center of the village. Instead, he chose the cover of night when no one was around to deliver it to the home of Wang, the innkeeper of Great Liang Village. The only people Anfeng was familiar with in the village were Libo, Mr. Jiang's family, and Wang, the innkeeper. Mr.

Jiang had just arrived, and Libo was a laid-back man, leaving only Wang Hongyi able to help him sell the wood.

Initially puzzled, Wang Hongyi burst into laughter upon understanding the reason and agreed, with a tone full of gratification.

It was said that Wang, the innkeeper who normally disliked drinking, carried a jug of fine Huadiao wine to Mr. Jiang's door that day, and the two conversed and laughed for several hours before departing.

The money that subsequently reached Wang Anfeng's hands not only didn't decrease, but slightly increased. The carpenters who came from the county town to buy wood always arrived excitedly, yet left Great Liang Village with a complex expression of bitter smiles and admiration mixed together.

Originally they faced a young boy with no experience, but in the blink of an eye, the youth who hardly bargained had become as shrewd as a seasoned haggler, scraping every last cent of profit out of the deal.

The villagers of Great Liang began to notice that the Wang family's youngster, who had recently caused quite a stir, had now become much more 'well-behaved'. He spent his time by Mr.

Jiang's side, learning to play the guqin and read, and the big black bear, once ferocious in their eyes, had been firmly locked in the courtyard, dozing off looking rather honest and no different from the local village dogs, thus gradually easing their worried hearts.

Although there were still some complaints, they were gradually drowned out in the mundane, daily chatter of the villagers.

Within the Shaolin Temple.

Steady and rhythmic footsteps sounded on the mountain path, accompanied by the crisp and melodious clinking of chains, as the young figure dashed out of the way. Each step was not large, but exceedingly steady, breathing long and even. The five hundred pounds of chains he now bore were no longer unendurable.

With the pressure of the weight, the inner strength of Yi Chan Gong within his body was constantly and fiercely consumed, yet reconstituted by the power of the elixir. He had carried these chains in cultivation for a full two months, and counting the different flow of time between the two worlds, it had been four months.

Over a hundred days, along with his previous cultivation, he had actually been training under high pressure for over a year.

Reaching the mountain top, he exerted force with his steps, leaped up, and landed on the increasingly narrow stone steps. Then, he powered up into another leap before falling, reaching another stone pillar slightly higher, tensing his muscles to counterbalance the swaying water in the bucket and maintain equilibrium so as not to fall off.

A row of stone pillars of varying heights, yet each one only wide enough for one foot, stood before him. Wang Anfeng, carrying an iron bucket, maneuvered left and right atop these plum blossom piles. Though this was not his first traversal, his heart still raced with adrenaline, his muscles sensitively on edge.

The first time he stepped onto these "plum blossom piles," neglecting the sloshing of the water in the bucket, he lost his balance, fell, and knocked himself unconscious.

But on the very last step, the plum blossom pile beneath his foot suddenly cracked. Wang Anfeng's expression turned solemn; he stepped on the breaking stone, shattered pieces flying, as he used it as a pivot point in mid-air to violently twist his waist, throwing the carrying pole spinning into the air.

Water spilled from the bucket, with three or four parts falling outside, but the remaining splashed straight into the water vat, making a splashing noise.

However, due to the five hundred pounds of chains, he himself could only crash heavily to the ground, gasping in pain, but not like the first time where he fell unconscious. The stern-faced scholar by his side glanced at him and scoffed:

"You've practiced for so long, and when faced with an emergency, you couldn't keep the water safe, nor could you protect yourself."

"Truly dull-witted."

Wang Anfeng struggled to stand up, cupping his fists towards the elder he respected in his heart:

"Junior has seen Mr. Ying."

The scholar nodded slightly, then frowned and asked:

"How has your study of medical poison basics with Old Wu been going these days?"

Wang Anfeng replied, "I have finished the basics of medical theory, but I haven't fully recognized all the herbs."

Mr. Ying scoffed and said, "Recognizing herbs? Has Old Wu become more senile with age?!"

"Studying medicine is to make you understand yourself, so you don't end up harming your own body, not to have you become some barefoot doctor wandering around looking for herbs. From today onward, your study time for medicine is halved, and your punishment time… is also halved."

Wang Anfeng was slightly taken aback, then Mr. Ying swept his sleeve and coldly said:

"The remaining practice of these two aspects is merely a matter of tedious labor and offers no significant benefit. They must not stop, but to obsess over them is even more foolish."

"Come with me."

With those words, he strode ahead, and Wang Anfeng, not knowing his intention, could only follow behind. They headed towards the Shaolin buildings. The scholar's expression was stern as he suddenly spoke while watching the scenery:

"One day you will enter Jianghu. The waters of Jianghu have always been treacherous since ancient times. Do you know how to survive there?"

Wang Anfeng answered:

"Martial arts… and vigilance."

Mr. Ying slightly nodded, then shook his head again, saying, "Right, and also wrong."

"Martial arts… I have seen the books you brought. Although they are but fragmented information, this world is full of beings mostly chasing so-called profound martial power and pursuing so-called concepts of intent, with few actually pursuing the limit of technique."

After thinking a bit, Wang Anfeng spoke softly:

"Maybe that's because chasing technique is indeed too dangerous… The original purpose of martial arts is combat and killing, like slaughtering pigs. You can't know what's wrong by daydreaming about it; only by actually slaughtering pigs can you realize where the thoughts fail. It's the same with martial arts, isn't it? If you don't spar with other martial artists, it's hard to discover weaknesses."

"Yet sparring can easily lead to injury or even death."

"Those pursuing technique in martial arts may be scarce for this reason… Few have the courage, fewer survive, and those who can make a name and write about their experience might indeed be one in a thousand."

"Compared to others, they are certainly rare."

The scholar looked at him with a hint of surprise, nodded slowly, and concluded:

"Not too foolish."

This sentence was definitely not a compliment, but coming from the always icy Mr. Ying, it was already remarkably rare. After walking a distance, they stopped at an offbeat hall, atop which a plaque was inscribed with three bold characters.

Wang Anfeng's eyes shifted slightly as he spoke softly,

"Copper Man Lane?"

Mr. Ying, with hands clasped behind his back, said, "In these two months, although you have not yet completed your punishment, you have barely passed my first test. Go... Enter Copper Man Lane, and after you come out, I'll tell you the second thing you're lacking."

Wang Anfeng did not understand his meaning, but during this time he had begun to vaguely sense that Mr. Ying, though stern-faced and unforgiving in speech, only meant to be harsh without malice. The increasingly robust physique he had developed was clear proof of that. Resignedly, he bowed with clasped hands, proceeded with extreme caution, and slowly made his way toward Copper Man Lane.

Creak——

The wooden door was slowly pushed open, the lane was pitch-dark. Just as Wang Anfeng felt puzzled, a rustling sound came, and rows of red candles lit up on both sides, brightly illuminating the interior.

In front of him, the empty space slowly formed a human figure made of flowing light, dressed in monk's robes with prayer beads around his neck, and with a single hand held in prayer, he looked at him.

In the eerily empty lane, a grand and solemn voice echoed:

"The first round begins."

The figure opposite him greeted him with a slight bow. Before Wang Anfeng could understand the situation, the figure charged towards him with a fist fierce and solid, the Shaolin Changquan. The youth's pupils shrank, and his body instinctively reacted, raising his right arm to a guardrail to steady the blow. However, the touch was unexpectedly light and lacked force, a lump formed in his throat.

The next moment, the figure suddenly accelerated, flashing to Wang Anfeng's side, landing a straight punch to the youth's ribs, while the left hand awkwardly gripped his collar and forcefully pulled. Dodging Wang Anfeng's elbow strike, he lifted the youth off his feet following the motion of the attack and slammed him down hard. The youth's gathered strength scattered from the impact.

As he felt weak all over, rapid fists pummeled down on him. Wang Anfeng gritted his teeth and bore it, silently gathering strength until seizing a gap, he suddenly flipped up, his right elbow swinging with the momentum. But the figure seemed to have anticipated it, stepping back just enough to avoid his blow.

As his Vigorous Qi was exhausted, a hand had already firmly rested on his elbow, and the other hand, charged and ready, swung as a palm strike, slashing down heavily.

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

Creak——

Mere thirty breaths later, the gate of Copper Man Lane opened again, and Wang Anfeng almost stumbled out, leaning against the stone wall, his complexion slightly pale. Yet, what truly astounded him was his recent opponent.

It was only Shaolin Changquan, the speed and strength were not much different, but every move and form of the opponent was perfectly executed, refined as if tempered a thousand times. He had only landed half a move successfully, and that half move was itself a trap, which then led to a more ferocious attack, as if the stars were falling from the Nine Heavens, relentless and fierce.

"Do you now understand what 'technique' is?"

Mr. Ying looked at his miserable state and spoke indifferently, "In the past ten years... no, to this world, it should have been a hundred years, he only ranked 3,700th among all Shaolin disciples. Yet, he could easily have killed you. Even if your martial arts were twice as strong, you would still be no match for him."

Hearing this, Wang Anfeng opened his mouth, then voiced his admiration,

"They must be even more formidable now..."

Was it his imagination, or did Mr. Ying's body seem to stiffen slightly? After a while, he spoke, not so much as if answering Wang Anfeng, but as if speaking to himself in a soft voice,

"No... they are no longer here."

"How can that be? They were so formidable!"

Looking at the vast sky and the Jianghu beneath the clouds, his ever-stern face rarely showed a different expression. He fell silent for a moment, then spoke not quite as if answering Wang Anfeng, but as if to himself in a soft voice,

"In this world, they were after all just mere passersby, like meteors that illuminate the heavens and then vanish even more swiftly."

"Gallop freely, experience deep friendships and grudges, entrust each other with our lives, stand side by side, the rustling autumn winds, wandering arm in arm in Jiangnan... Memories that are enough for us to cherish for a lifetime, but for them, they were merely an illusion.

"When the dream ends, one cannot continue to speak of it, can they? If one grows up, how can they keep talking in their sleep?"

"To them, we are 'people' who do not even have the right to have memories. Perhaps it is because they have no memories that they can leave without a trace of guilt. Life is such, shouldn't we also feel some consolation for the old friends?"

"They left Jianghu, they faded away in their own world, just like ordinary people with love and hate, trapped by life, weary or distressed, no longer the gallant heroes of old, nor the gentle yet bold young maidens, and us...

ha, we are just living in the Jianghu of their memories, in that place of memories, watching the mountains and rivers endure, people come and go, sometimes I also wonder whether among those newcomers, there are also them?"

"Watching us, yet insisting on pretending not to recognize us, greeting us with a nod, saying 'Hero, nice to meet you,' then sneaking a laugh on the other side, watching our reaction and whispering softly... "

"Long time no see."

Wang Anfeng fell silent, watching as the scholar, always stern and proud, momentarily showed a lapse, and softly said,

"Teacher... Do you feel lonely...?"

Mr. Ying murmured softly,

"Lonely?"

"No... I have never been lonely."

"It is just... some reminiscence... "

Reminiscing about the Jianghu that once had them.

The sky is vast, with white snow quietly drifting down, landing on the shoulders of the elder and the younger.

Winter has arrived.

There is no return.