Why do I have so many masters?

The great Qingji fish, which had frolicked in the pool beneath Myriad Swords Peak for generations, never imagined that disaster would strike today.

A pair of sword-wielding disciples, one older and one younger, had been craving this for three years—the mere one fish per person was hardly enough to soothe the ache of longing in their hearts.

Initially, Lin Qiaofu felt a pang of guilt about so many fish from the creek being eaten all at once, but then the aroma wafted over her, and she consoled herself. This time Wang Anfeng had come, a full three years since his last visit. Who knew how many years it would be until the next?

They had eaten many fish this time, but if they divided the amount of grilled fish across each day of those three years, it wouldn't seem too much.

A day's share was less than a small bite—eating that much, she felt completely justified.

After all, she swept and maintained the Sutra Loft every day, and her senior sisters and uncles forced her to practice martial arts—surely it wasn't too much to allow herself this small portion of fisheatreach day?

How could there be any justice in the world otherwise?

The young girl felt somewhat embarrassed, unlike Jiu Zizai, who threw the fish bones directly into the creek bed. She tidied up and dug a small pit on the side to bury them—surely this counted as giving them a proper resting place.

Gong Yu had not eaten any fish, merely sitting quietly on a bluestone, her slender and elegant longsword lying across her knees. Only when the other three had satiated themselves did she speak softly:

"Cangshu, you may proceed first."

"There are disciples in the sect who will guide you to your accommodations."

Seeing that Gong Yu was still seated there, showing no signs of moving, Wang Anfeng knew she must have had something else to discuss with Lin Qiaofu and Lv Baiping. He patted his clothes, stood up, and smiled,

"Then, I shall take my leave first. Tomorrow, at the end of Chen hour, we shall meet again at the martial arts field."

Gong Yu nodded, emitting only a hum.

Wang Anfeng then turned, smiled at Lin Qiaofu and Lv Baiping, and without any apparent movement, a gust of wind suddenly swept through. Lin Qiaofu instinctively raised her hand to shield her eyes, the nearby creek stirred by the wind, creating myriad ripples.

When she lowered her hands, the figure of the swordsman in green was no longer on the rock.

Lv Baiping, always bold, widened her beautiful eyes, staring straight into the distance, as if soul lost.

Gong Yu looked away and said flatly,

"The wind chants, his movements cover a thousand miles in a moment."

"Qiaofu, can you tell which Qinggong movement technique it was?"

Gong Yu was the strongest of her generation under Qingfeng Edge, having been trained by the Murong Qingxue, the Immortal-like Great Elder. It was rare for Jianghu to witness such a swordsman in fifty years.

Yet here she was, asking a young girl with only a rudimentary understanding of martial arts about the intricacies of martial techniques.

The girl was young, and her martial abilities were significantly lacking.

But one dared to ask, another dared to answer; such was the normalcy they were accustomed to. Lin Qiaofu's delicate brows furrowed slightly as she looked at Gong Yu, whose calm demeanor was as untouchable as a carving of pale white jade, off-limits to most.

At times like this, she would feel from her heart that Elder Gong Yu was truly beautiful—far beyond her own reach in this lifetime.

Lowering her gaze, she thought for a moment, then said softly,

"I can't tell..."

Lv Baiping's eyes widened, seemingly more shocked than when she had seen Wang Anfeng ride the wind into the sky, and said,

"Can't tell?"

"Mhm."

Lin Qiaofu, holding a stick from the grilled fish, gently scratched the ground and said,

"In Jianghu, there are thirty-seven superior Qinggong techniques known to incorporate the force of wind into their movement. Nineteen rely on absorbing the momentum of the wind, six focus on controlling the wind beneath. Taoist Sect has three: Lingxu, Pinfeng, Bubu Sheng Xiao; Confucian Sect has two, one being Three Autumn Leaves, the other Three Feet of Wholehearted Wind.

"The royal court of the Western Regions possesses the secret technique 'Great Wind Comes'; where one steps, the wind swirls the sand, which differs from Brother Wang's technique."

"According to the classics, Brother Wang's movement technique, among these top-level Qinggongs, isn't the fastest but is the most seamless and in tune with Heaven and Earth. His realm should be first-class, likely stemming from the martial arts lineage of the Taoist Sect. Other than that, disciple can't tell..."

Gong Yu's expression remained unchanged, and she merely said flatly,

"If you can't tell, then you can't tell."

"Bai Ping, Qiaofu, this descent from the mountain is unlike any other. Come here, Master has ordered me to impart a secret sword technique to both of you. How much you understand will depend on your own destiny."

"Ah... practicing sword..."

"Is it possible not to practice?"

Lin Qiaofu's delicate face seemed to collapse somewhat, her composure absent that was present earlier while discussing martial arts. Her cheeks puffed out. On the other side, Lv Baiping was much more relaxed. She raised her hand to grip the hilt of the longsword at her waist and smiled brilliantly, like a resplendent array of spring flowers stretching over ten miles, dazzling to the point that one could not keep their eyes open, and said,

"I have been waiting already."

Gong Yu nodded her head and stepped upon the void. The cold ice behind her began to condense, from ether to substance. The two disciples followed behind her. Lin Qiaofu looked all around only to see the chill pervading the air, enveloping the entire Myriad Swords Peak, the white cold air was as dense as the clouds above Heaven.

In this boundless moment, it seemed she was no longer in the mundane world.

Yet, still they continued upwards, step by step on the stairway to Heaven, a place beyond the ordinary secular realm. It was the Taoist Sect's movement technique reaching the Jade Void, lacking only the basis of riding the wind, purely integrating the Sword Intent of "Three Thousand Feet of Cold Intent" into the movement technique, pioneering a unique path, the spirit not inferior to the ancient sages.

Gong Yu raised her right hand. Her sleeve fluttered slightly with the breeze, her fingers white and slender.

Amidst Heaven and Earth, clouds swirled like a giant whale drinking water, gathering between her fingers, absorbing clouds and transforming them into water, condensing the Qi into a weapon. A crystal-clear, azure longsword emerged in the woman's hand. With a flick of her finger, a clear and distant sword hum elicited continual sword cries from the peak of Myriad Swords Peak. She said lightly,

"Watch carefully, this sword is of my own creation."

"Named Thousand Autumns Snow."

The sword in Gong Yu's hand shifted slightly, with Sword Qi as radiant as a thousand autumns of falling snow.

Lv Baiping's eyes widened, radiance flashing within them.

Lin Qiaofu stood behind Gong Yu, her eyes empty, her mind filled with random thoughts. She thought about the grilled fish she had been longing for for three years at the base of the mountain, now seeming not as delicious as she remembered.

Then her thoughts turned to that lexicon, so ponderous it could knock someone out, and what it said about the seven ways to engrave a knife—what the first way was, what the second way was...

The young girl couldn't help but chuckle to herself.

In front of her, the Sword Intent of "Three Thousand Feet of Cold Intent" dispersed the intense chill with extraordinary transcendence, without holding anything back, dissecting its essence.

However, facing this superior swordsmanship of Jianghu, Lin Qiaofu was distracted, her little head filled with the seven ways to inscribe a knife, wondering if she could discover an eighth, a behavior considered in Jianghu as the epitome of foolishness.

Yet even so, she stood in the swept-up frost of mid-air, her black hair slightly lifting, her face refined with a touch of pitiful beauty yet not bearing any hint of vulgarity.

Regaining her senses, her eyes became clear, as if all she could see was indeed a grandiose autumn snow.

Wang Anfeng was taken to a guest room by a disciple, not just by coincidence, but perhaps Gong Yu had arranged it beforehand; it was the same room he stayed in three years ago when he visited Qingfeng Edge. The decor had barely changed, evoking a sense of familiarity in his heart.

The disciple closed the door when leaving.

Wang Anfeng sat cross-legged on the bed, alone. He slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.

His eyes nearly closed, and as he inhaled again, his breathing became as calm as the still waters of a deep abyss, not even a ripple surfacing, as if a void, yet the entire room gradually filled with a fierce Qi Mechanism.

Resolute and pure.

The Heavenly Sword Hong Hui's single strike was like a block of ice that had been frozen for hundreds of years, constantly lodged in his heart. Throughout his journey, he kept trying to melt this block of ice, wanting to merge that melted water into his own little pond.

But the speed of melting had been very slow, very slow, until just now when he thrust out that strike at the mountain gate of Qingfeng Edge, finally cracking that solid ice, which fell into his own waters, naturally raising the water level.

The icy water mixed with the original pond water and dew, so mixed that even a highly skilled martial artist could not differentiate which drop was pond water and which was from the melting snow.

The swordsmanship Wang Anfeng comprehended was ultimately not Hong Hui's, nor was it any more Mr. Ying's Killing Sword Thirty-Three. He lifted his hand in a feigned grasp, issuing Sword Gang, slicing through the air, creating a light in the vacant room, glaringly brilliant.

The Sword Gang slowly dissipated.

The young man stared blankly at the fierce Sword Intent in his hand for a long while before coming back to his senses, grinning broadly and then suddenly falling back onto the bed, spreading his arms wide, his face filled with joy.

Mr. Ying once said the Heaven has nine levels, and if speaking in terms of swords, he was finally not merely circling on the ground, picking up others' leftovers to practice mediocre martial arts. After struggling for a long time, he had now stepped onto the clouds.

"Ascending the Heaven Rank steps to Jade Void..."

Wang Anfeng murmured softly.

Outside the room, a disciple walked by holding a sword, not anticipating that the longsword in the scabbard would suddenly hiss, startling her. She quickly grasped her unruly sword, Zhu Ling stood at the entrance of a side hall, staring at that guest room.

She did not look at the room, but rather at a spot above the roof.

Just then, an invisible Sword Qi had soared, as if an ancient sword had just been drawn from its scabbard, heralded as "Qi Rushing to Fight the Bulls." That was it.

She watched the soaring Sword Qi and Sword Intent dissipate, watched as the disciple beside the room finally managed to hold back the sword nearly leaping from its scabbard, taking a long time before she withdrew her gaze.

Behind her, the seventh-ranked under Heaven, Murong Qingxue, sat in the chief her expression serene.

PS: The second update of today delivered…