Why do I have so many masters?

Wang Anfeng's movements paused for a moment before he walked over to open the door for Grand Uncle Jian, leading the white-haired old man inside with a face that had regained its calm.

Grand Uncle Jian was somewhat restrained.

Hong Luoyu had carelessly moved the cups and saucers from the table to the bed, leaving behind only the blue cloud-patterned silk cloth covering the table. He simply stood to the side and beckoned to Grand Uncle Jian.

The old swordsman, carrying his sword, smiled and came forward with an insightful air, lifting the great Jue Que Sword he carried on his back with both hands—one cradling the blade and the other gently sweeping over it unconsciously—before carefully placing it on the table.

The whole table sank slightly, evidencing its weight.

Wang Anfeng stood by Hong Luoyu's side, scrutinizing this famous sword.

Unlike the Fish Intestine Sword, this Jue Que, also one of the top ten famous swords, did not win with sharpness. Its blade was broad and heavy, as if it were merely a solid piece of stubborn iron, yet it possessed an indescribable, immense oppressive force that made one involuntarily hold their breath before it.

Hong Luoyu stood with his hands behind his back and said softly,

"Do you know why I want you to look at this sword?"

Wang Anfeng shook his head.

Upon hearing this introduction, Grand Uncle Jian knew this must be a matter of importance between master and disciple.

Although he wanted to listen more, his many years of tumbling through the Jianghu had taught him his own limits quite clearly, whether in martial arts or other capabilities.

Knowing that this was not something he should overhear, he did not disturb Wang Anfeng and Hong Luoyu, and started walking lightly towards the outside. His hand had just touched the doorknob when he heard Hong Luoyu's casual voice,

"Close the door and stand properly."

Grand Uncle Jian's body stiffened slightly, almost thinking he had heard wrong.

Dazed for a moment, he shut the door like a wooden man.

Turned around.

Step by step, he walked to the side of Hong Luoyu and Wang Anfeng and stood with his hands down, silent.

Although Wang Anfeng did not know what Hong Luoyu was planning, since the master had spoken, he naturally had no objections and smiled amicably at the white-haired Grand Uncle Jian.

Grand Uncle Jian returned the gesture stiffly.

Hong Luoyu, with his left hand behind his back, flicked the Jue Que Sword's edge with his right hand, and said softly,

"The first generation swordsmith Ouyang cast five swords."

His voice drew Wang Anfeng and Grand Uncle Jian's attention.

Hong Luoyu's voice was slow, as if striking jade, and he said,

"The Fish Intestine is a sword of bravery, only suitable for swordsmen with a heart seeking death."

"But Jue Que has taken the mastery of sword momentum to its peak. Although there are many sword weapons in the world, none can surpass it."

"Jue, meaning 'flaw,' suggests an inherent lack that cannot compare to those naturally outstanding, but it is robust and ancient, harnessing the vast momentum of Heaven and Earth, unbeatable and universally effective."

When mentioning the word 'Jue' as 'flaw', the aged Grand Uncle Jian's eyes briefly brightened.

"The same material, manifesting completely different concepts in weaponry. This master Ouyang might well be a Grandmaster of sword techniques, using sword casting as a practice in swordsmanship. The five famous swords he cast are indeed directions of various sword techniques."

Pausing slightly, Hong Luoyu looked at Wang Anfeng and said,

"Anfeng, from today, perceive the essence of the sword daily, try to sketch its spirit, and refine your own Sword Qi using the sword momentum in Jue Que."

"There is much to gain from another's stone for one's own jade."

"The endeavors of a past master in sword techniques should benefit you."

Wang Anfeng bowed respectfully and said,

"Disciple obeys the command."

Hong Luoyu's gaze then fell on Grand Uncle Jian.

The old man involuntarily tensed, straightening his back subconsciously.

Hong Luoyu looked at him intently, then casually withdrew his gaze and said softly,

"As mentioned earlier, this sword is heavy. You will carry the sword for Anfeng, bringing it every dawn and taking it back by late morning. Do not be late; can you manage this?"

Wang Anfeng was surprised but just smiled.

He looked at the stunned Grand Uncle Jian and silently congratulated him in his heart.

Having the honor to carry the sword for Wang Anfeng meant that for the rest of the day, Grand Uncle Jian could freely contemplate the sword momentum within Jue Que.

For an old man who had chased the Sword Dao all his life, this was indeed a congratulatory statement, and as such an aged swordsman, he was truly worthy of this Jue Que.

Grand Uncle Jian took a deep breath.

In front of the Qingfeng Edge Sword Formation, he, who had lived in the wild for three full years and cried out loud when he saw the sword's light soaring into the sky, straightened his back.

He pursed his lips.

The ingratiating smile that had almost become a mask on his aged face slowly faded, and he nodded firmly.

Hong Luoyu chuckled, not waiting for Grand Uncle Jian to say anything, he turned around, casually pushed the door open and left. His wide sleeves fluttered like clouds, effortless and elegant, exuding the grace of a Scholar and the demeanor of a Grandmaster.

Grand Uncle Jian pressed his hands together and deeply bowed to the man's departing figure.

Meticulously.

Wang Anfeng, however, only felt a twitch in his temple, raising his hand to support his forehead.

The prior movement of Grandmaster Third Master, juxtaposed with Hong Luoyu, who didn't maintain any proper decorum and sat cross-legged on the table with a face full of schadenfreude...

He genuinely did not want to acknowledge that this was the same person.

This was definitely not the same person!

With a sigh, Wang Anfeng's gaze fell upon the Jue Que Sword laid across the table. His right hand lifted slightly and gently tapped on the broad famous sword, his eyes nearly closed, his breathing gradually slowing down.

The cultivation of a martial artist is divided into upper and lower Ninth Grades.

The Lower Third Rank serves as the foundations, focusing either on body refinement, enhancing robust Qi blood, or on calming the mind and operating Inner Strength, with martial artists using various methods to gradually enhance their cultivation.

A Ninth Grade can wrestle lions and tigers and run as swiftly as a strong horse.

An Eighth Rank can gather Qi in the body and project it outward, where Sword Qi can extend over ten feet.

A Seventh Rank Martial Artist has refined their skills to the peak, waving their hands to unleash Qi Force like a dragon. If they have trained in higher Martial Arts, they could already barely manage to fly and control the wind, unlike ordinary people.

However, throughout Martial Arts, the Lower Third Rank can only be said to be basic. Although the Dharma practiced by martial artists is diverse, what needs to be done is merely to store water into the body's pond, where the individual's innate talents are fully exhibited during this stage.

Those with extraordinary talents can sit in meditation for a day, achieving what others could in a hundred days.

But even if the speed of water storage is slow, the pond, though it may expand, always has a limit.

Day after day, year after year.

As long as one never gives up, there will eventually be a day when the pond is filled with clear water. Hence, to ordinary martial artists, reaching the Seventh Rank Realm is not as unattainable as imagined, but for most martial artists, this is also the limit they can reach.

Therefore, in Jianghu, it is not rare to see elderly Seventh or Eighth Rank martial artists.

Young achievements, however, are rare.

Take Zhang Tingyun's family nursemaid as an example; she diligently practiced within her clan without venturing through Jianghu. Old in age, she steadily reached the peak of Eighth Rank, but her body was no longer as before, her Qi blood declined, and there was no chance of further breakthroughs.

Once a martial artist's intent and spirit become one, and they cross Longmen, they are considered a master in Jianghu.

They can perform feats like feeling the heart of Heaven with their own heart and control the winds, performing various sophisticated techniques. After Sixth Rank, the role of a martial artist's innate talent is greatly diminished. What they seek is not their own pool, but the vast ocean between Heaven and Earth.

The strength of a martial artist is seen in their understanding of Heaven and Earth and in their pursuit of their own path. Most stand still for a thousand days, and a few might take a giant leap after this pause, reaching the mountain peak in a day and beholding the spectacular vistas they never imagined before.

Hong Hui from Heavenly Sword Sect was such a person.

Yet most who cross Longmen merely stand still, even regressing instead of advancing.

Last year, Wang Anfeng adopted the alias Blade Madman, wielding his sword and traversing three thousand miles. His intent unified with his Qi, allowing him to finally break through Longmen and enter the Middle Third Rank.

But every martial artist who has crossed Longmen has had such vigorous moments. Yet humans are not lifeless entities; no one can guarantee they will always stay at their peak or that their hearts will never be clouded.

There are as many people in the world as fish swimming across the river. How many can maintain the passion of their younger days?

It is the same for martial artists.

Each step taken is like rowing a boat upstream.

Wang Anfeng placed his palm on the sword, condensing his own Qi charm, resonating with the spiritual charm within the Jue Que Sword. He tried grasping the sword's momentum, like an clumsy painter striving to copy the work of a master.

This task is not only mentally draining, but is also an extremely exhausting physical activity.

Originally, Wang Anfeng had built his foundation on Buddhism's Inner Strength and withstood several years of relentless training from a certain Qing-dressed scholar, which made him far more resolute than his peers. Despite this, he often felt irritable during the process, yet each insight would bring an enlightening realization.

Taishujian merely stood by his side, silently.

This activity was immensely consuming of mental energy and time. When Wang Anfeng looked up again, the gray sky had disappeared, replaced by the dark night and the endless lights of the world below.

Wang Anfeng straightened up, stretched his muscles, and heard them crackle crisply.

Taishujian was no longer there; he must have seen that he was engrossed and did not interrupt, going down by himself.

Faint footsteps approached from outside.

Wang Anfeng held the Jue Que Sword in his hand and went forward. Before the visitor could knock, he reached out and opened the wooden door. There, three steps away, stood Gong Yu in white attire, her expression as aloof as ever.

Wang Anfeng had gained some insight today and smiled as he nodded at her.

But Gong Yu did not respond to him. She stopped in her tracks, her gaze shifting over Wang Anfeng's body, then settling on his dark blue garment with hidden patterns, falling silent before saying,

"You are..."

Wang Anfeng's smile stiffened.

Gong Yu seemed to recall something, raising her eyes to Wang Anfeng, and said,

"Grilled fish?"

Wang Anfeng's mouth twitched slightly, and he said,

"It's me."

Gong Yu nodded, understandingly said,

"Wang Anfeng."

PS: The second update today...