Why do I have so many masters?

Snow blanketed the summit of the solitary peak, the heavy Buddhist bell of Shaolin Temple rang out, its toll resounding through the mountains, scattering the evermore vast falling snow. Mr. Ying stood with his hands clasped behind his back, silent and unspoken. Wang Anfeng, though fearing him, also respected him and kept half a step behind, standing in silence as if beside an elder.

After an indefinite amount of time, Mr. Ying slowly turned his body, his facial expression as cold and harsh as the wind and snow that had seeped into it, giving Wang Anfeng a glance as if nothing had happened before, saying,

"I mentioned the first point earlier, my requirements are not high. You need only rank within the top hundred of Shaolin disciples of the last hundred years to leave the mountain and enter Jianghu."

"'Skill' can lead you to be unbeaten as you move forward, but there are too many ways to kill within Jianghu. Some will not confront you directly, and if you don't want to inexplicably fall dead by the roadside, you will need to detect those assassins who seek to kill you among the crowd."

Wang Anfeng's expression became solemn, and as he clasped his fists to shake off the frost and snow clinging to him, he said,

"Please teach me, sir."

Mr. Ying turned around and, looking at him, said, "When the heart harbors murderous intent, it naturally draws the Qi Mechanism. If you can sense the subtle aura of killing intent, you can detect ninety percent of the dangers in Jianghu."

Wang Anfeng paused upon hearing this; he had read about the concept of Qi Mechanism in Jiang Shouyi's collection of books.

The so-called cyclic movement of the essential Qi, circulating through the six voids in Heaven, and giving rise to all things on Earth, was an utmost mystery, beyond mystery. Even with Jiang Shouyi's marginal explanations, he was unable to comprehend it, never having been in contact with it and even somewhat skeptical of the existence of Qi Mechanism.

The world is so vast, and the Qi Mechanism of Heaven and Earth so profound and elusive; how much more difficult then is it to capture murderous intent, and even more so when it is hidden?

Mr. Ying, seeing his expression, knew what he was thinking and said with a sneer,

"Rest assured, this one point is the easiest to teach you."

Wang Anfeng's face flushed slightly as he replied,

"Then I thank you in advance, sir..."

His voice had not yet fallen when it abruptly stopped. The youth's pupils suddenly constricted, and the entire world in his eyes instantly darkened. The boundless wind and snow became even more ferocious yet also all the more desolate. Between Heaven and Earth, the only thing escalating was the speed and sound of his own heartbeat.

All things revolved around the stern Scholar in a green robe, who became increasingly tall and overwhelming, filling the entire world. His eyes calmly and indifferently watched over Wang Anfeng who, struggling to maintain composure, quickly succumbed and found his consciousness dragged by fear into a bottomless abyss.

Atop the solitary peak, the young man's body swayed slightly and he fell directly forward. Mr. Ying's sleeve fluttered, and a gentle Qi Force held him up and gently laid him on the ground.

Through the wind and snow, two figures came breaking through the air. Ci, stepping on empty space, split the flying snowflakes in two with his Qi Force, stepping beside Wang Anfeng. Crouching down, he checked him briefly before finally exhaling in relief, his expression showing barely concealed anger as he rose to his feet and demanded,

"What are you doing?!"

"Teaching him about killing intent," replied the Scholar in the green robe, stepping aside and leisurely watching as the wind and snow once again enshrouded the mountains, speaking indifferently,

"Killing intent is born from the heart. Since it is aimed at the human body, exposing oneself to it repeatedly each day, even if he is still foolishly unable to comprehend what Qi Mechanism is, his body will have developed an instinctive reaction to killing intent."

"This way, it becomes naturally the easiest."

The corners of the Scholar's mouth slightly curled up into a smirk, adding,

"By that time, no matter who harbors murderous intent against him, even if they conceal most of it through secret technique, it will shine like a firefly in the night in front of him."

"Not a single one will escape."

Ci was left speechless, anger in his heart, but since Wang Anfeng had not been harmed, he could only infuse the young man with some Inner Strength to nourish him. Wu Changqing, stroking his goatee, took Wang Anfeng's pulse and, after the examination, chuckled and said,

"Master Yuan Ci need not worry," Wu Changqing explained. "Just now, Anfeng engaged in a battle of memories with the past martial heroes, and his already weary body has reached its limit. Mr. Ying employed his killing intent to seal off his five senses, plunging him into a deep slumber. Though he was momentarily frightened, this rest is actually quite beneficial for his recovery."

"He has been cultivating more diligently these past few days, so a good rest is indeed a good thing."

Master Yuan Ci nodded slightly and carefully picked up Wang Anfeng, walking slowly towards the vacant monk's room up the mountain. Within three feet, untouched by wind or snow, Wu Changqing watched until his figure vanished. When he turned around, the solitary peak no longer held the figure of the Scholar in green.

Momentarily stunned, he then chuckled and shook his head, gazing over the snow-covered Shaoshi Mountain. Perhaps reminded of something, he first smiled lightly, then slowly sighed.

"Jianghu..."

Turning to leave, his slightly bent figure disappeared into the falling snow, the sigh scattered by the wind and snow, diffused into the midst of Shaolin Mountain.

After an unknown amount of time had passed, Wang Anfeng slowly opened his eyes. The sensation of fear had yet to resurface; instead, it was swept away by another gentle breath. The boy's constricted pupils returned to normal, the candlelight was warm, and a thick quilt was laid over his body. Beside him, Yuan Ci was looking at him with a smiling face, saying gently:

"It seems you are truly tired. Has the cultivation during this period been somewhat harsh?"

Feeling a warmth in his heart, Wang Anfeng shook his head and said with a smile:

"It's not harsh, Master."

The monk raised his hand and ruffled his hair, hesitating for a moment before saying:

"Really not harsh...?"

"If you are truly tired, you can relax a bit; there's no need to force yourself."

"Mhm, Mhm, it's okay, Master."

Outside the monk's room.

From the direction of the pharmacy, Wu Changqing carried a bowl of medicinal porridge, which included ingredients beneficial to Wang Anfeng's recovery, kept warm with his inner strength as he walked slowly toward the monk's room.

Although it was Mr. Ying who had awakened him, and it was Yuan Ci who had explained everything clearly, the root cause of it all was the young man. Thus, he had a considerable concern for Wang Anfeng in his heart. Moreover, the young man's temperament was quite to his liking.

Therefore, after the young man fell into a deep sleep, the elder had taken the initiative to collect some medicinal herbs from the Shaolin pharmacy and prepared a pot of medicinal porridge with some mushroom ingredients.

As he entered the courtyard, he saw Mr. Ying, in a green Scholar's robe, sitting above the monk's room. The bright moon was high in the sky, and his clothes fluttered in the wind, giving the Scholar an even more detached and indifferent appearance. Wu Changqing was slightly startled as his qi mechanism pulled, causing Mr. Ying to sense his presence.

Turning his head to glance at Wu Changqing, the latter was about to speak when he heard the cool voice:

"The kid's awake, tell him to leave early."

"This is not his world after all. Staying for a while is harmless, but it's not good to stay too long."

Wu Changqing stroked his long beard, smiling warmly, and said:

"Why doesn't the gentleman tell him himself?"

No sooner had his words fallen than they were met with only the silent fall of snow in response; the Scholar in green who had just been there was no longer in sight, leaving only the increasingly bright and cold moon in the sky.

Wu Changqing opened his mouth slightly, then shrugged with a bitter smile, and could only carry the medicinal porridge and gently knock on the wooden door of the monk's room, saying:

"Master Yuan Ci, Anfeng, it is this old man."

The wooden door creaked open, and the elder nodded to Yuan Ci who opened it, stepping in with a smile and closing the wooden door behind him. The candlelight cast the shadows of the three, and the sound of Wu Changqing's hearty voice could be faintly heard:

"Come, come, come, taste this old man's cooking."

"It's been twenty years since I last cooked myself, don't be too critical, don't be too critical, haha."