Why do I have so many masters?

Near Wanling City, atop a hillock sat three hundred burly men clad in black attire, each donning heavy armor, silent and wordless.

Each of them bore on their backs a rock as large as three men, running through the hills, relying solely on the strength of their flesh.

Mo Xiaoqi sat on a rock, supporting his chin with both hands, watching intensely.

It was after his parents had died, leaving him with troubles at home, that he entered the stockade.

With many mouths to feed, and these men having particularly large appetites, the meager food reserves in the fortress had quickly run out in just a few days.

The rice and flour of these last few days had been bought by these ferociously formidable men; there was an Uncle Liu with a wiry frame in the stockade, who was once considered one of the best farmers for miles around.

Touching a handful of rice and trembling, he nearly knocked his chin to the ground as he stuttered to explain that this kind of rice is only available in his hometown, where the water is particularly good, making the grains clear and distinct—a top-quality variety for hundreds of miles.

However, his hometown was quite a long, long distance away.

Even if one were to walk on the smooth surfaces of official roads, it would take at least a hundred miles, walking nonstop for almost an entire day to get back there. Yet, these big men, each carrying several hundred pounds of rock and wearing armor, managed to return in just two hours, even when charging through mountain paths.

Being raised in the mountains, he knew just how exhausting the ups and downs of mountain roads could be, let alone with such a heavy burden; from a distance, he saw these burly men almost perfectly synchronized even as they rushed along in their charge.

The people in the stockade had secretly given these tall warriors a name—Fierce Tigers—weren't they just like fierce tigers?

As for the leader of these tigers.

His gaze drifted, fixed on the figure at the very front of the group.

In these hills, there was nothing else but abundant trees and mountains to speak of. If the other martial artists were said to carry huge rocks, then, in his eyes, the green-clothed man was shouldering what could almost be a small hill.

It must have weighed at least a few thousand pounds, or even more; any more, and Mo Xiaoqi dared not continue the thought. He could only stick out his tongue and internally exclaim—it might look unassuming, but was that still a human being?

Upon returning to the stockade, Wang Anfeng dropped the massive rock he bore on his back to the ground with a resounding boom.

In a tranquil voice, he said,

"Draw swords."

He instantly drew the long saber from his waist as the three hundred men from Divine Martial Mansion did the same in unison. Then, with a snap, they all stepped forward neatly, putting strength into their arms as they swung their sheathless sabers from below in an upward slash.

The movements were so fast that under the sunlight, one could only see three hundred crescent-like radiances.

The chill was biting.

Mo Xiaoqi felt a coldness envelop his entire body.

Horizontal slashes, diagonal strikes, and then violent vertical chops.

Three hundred cold gleams danced on the flat ground cleaved by the Jue Que Sword—a saber technique unearthed from Shaolin Temple, even stronger than the foundational saber techniques Divine Martial Mansion had used to train their soldiers.

The formations they practiced came from Mr. Ying.

And it was only now that Wang Anfeng realized that during his reclusive cultivation, Mr. Ying had not been idle at all; he had already started to prepare these three hundred iron cavalries of Divine Martial Mansion.

It was said that the original name conceived was Qing Taoqi.

Gongsun Jing had received the order to select the men, and then commanded these three hundred to complete various so-called 'missions.' After three years of fragmented time spent fighting each other, they had forged this elite troop of iron cavalry.

When he left the mountains, these three hundred men were carrying out orders abroad. In the absence of their main commander, they had joined forces to fight a Middle Third-Rank martial artist. He had left Xi Dingzhou City for Fufeng, and they had returned just when he did.

The Inner Strength technique cultivated by each man was provided by Mr. Ying, which, when combined in a formation, increased their strength by threefold. Once they entered the Ninth Grade and mastered Inner Strength, they were capable of demolishing a fortress with every five men—that was considered a complete training.

Almost every stockade in Fufeng had been destroyed, and even the surrounding areas of two prefectures had not been spared, though they did not realize that by doing so, they had inadvertently affected Weiming's usual income, resulting in deficits year after year.

Each of the three hundred riders had ten lives on their hands.

They were also skilled in horseback archery, neglecting scholarly "Continuous Flying Star" archery techniques associated with the Confucian Sect, favoring the draw of hard bows and firing of fierce arrows instead.

That day, when three hundred cavalries drew their bows on horseback, arrows fell like rain, breaking through the air repeatedly with such force that in an instant, they tilted and unleashed thousands of arrows, their aura overwhelming. It was akin to a massive avalanche from the Heavenly Mountain Kunlun.

The Crossing Flying Star Style fine steel arrowheads, designed to penetrate Internal Gang Qi, coupled with the strength of over two hundred Eighth Rank and more than fifty Seventh Rank martial artists, created a mighty force of thousands of locusts in flight. Even a Middle Third Rank martial artist would be grievously injured in the onslaught.

Not to mention that Gongsun Jing himself was nearly a Fifth Ranker.

Under the lethal military formation, Gongsun Jing and these three hundred elite soldiers were fully capable of fighting and defeating Fourth Rank masters, even managing to slay such top Jianghu experts comparable to long-standing sect elders and leaders, without suffering injuries, albeit at some cost.

This is the terrifying aspect of an elite military force, able to use military formations to concentrate the deadly aura of an army, striking in such a manner that they could engage in battle with far superior opponents, matching rare Jianghu experts in combat.

During the final battle of the Seven Kingdoms, that esteemed Great Grandmaster perished under the coordinated assault of Great Qin's eighteen elite iron cavalries.

At that time, the Grandmaster held the rank of General, leading soldiers who had all cultivated Inner Qi, strong enough to command as City Defense Colonels in any ordinary county town, yet in that battle, they were mere pawns.

The battle was fierce and chaotic; Great Qin lost over two thousand three hundred fully armored warriors, with countless more injured and greater losses among the military generals, but ultimately, they brought down the mighty Grandmaster, who in the eyes of martial artists was comparable to a living Immortal, beneath their horses.

Thirty military generals acted as the eyes of the formation.

The ruthless Military Formation "Great White Annihilation," filled with murderous aura and like dragons charging forth, trampled the number one man of Jing Kingdom's Jianghu underworld into oblivion; a single fire tossed down, and regardless of his past prowess, in death, he returned to dust.

Hong Luoyu stood at the highest point, looking down from above.

By his side, a stern-faced scholar in green robes appeared, standing with hands behind his back. His sword-like eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and a coldness graced his face, seemingly quite dissatisfied with the mighty military formation unfolding below.

Hong Luoyu said offhandedly,

"What's the matter with you, the one surnamed Ying, are you still unsatisfied? The little lunatic trains with these Qing Taoqi every day, and although I don't understand formations, I know that only in this way can the formation be used to its fullest potential."

"I see your formation isn't bad, which one is it?"

The scholar in the green robe snorted coldly, seemingly reluctant to answer, but eventually said lightly:

"Entry Melody."

Hong Luoyu chuckled and said:

"Yo, I know that one. Back then, that Lanling King had an unbeatable reputation in his army, so he created this Entry Melody. It's both a famous piece and a military formation. It's just a pity that, supposedly, that Lanling King was so handsome, he looked like an immortal, and he always had to wear a bronze ghost mask in battle, so as not to disrupt the formation."

"Although the little lunatic isn't bad-looking, he's far from that level of beauty, so this Entry Melody always lacks some charm."

"Hey, the one surnamed Ying, about that Lanling King, was he worried that his good looks would distract his own troops, or was he worried about the enemy's generals or such, seeing him and attacking ferociously as if struck by spring?"

The scholar in the green robe gave him a cold glance.

Hong Luoyu instinctively took a step back, waving his hands with a dry laugh:

"I mean, went crazy, went crazy..."

The scholar in the green robe withdrew his gaze, saying indifferently:

"I don't know."

"Then let me ask you something you do know."

Hong Luoyu gestured broadly with his hand, then pointed at the three hundred men below, saying:

"My legs and hands' spirit, didn't you turn them into these kids' elixirs? Otherwise, how would you lift three hundred men with Eighth Rank cultivation or above out of the Giant Whale Gang, that bird-shit place, as easy as lifting a hand? Are you fooling ghosts?"

The scholar in the green robe said lightly:

"Not stupid."

A surge of anger rushed to Hong Luoyu's forehead, his eyes widened in fury, he wanted nothing more than to poke the man in front of him and kill him with a jab to the forehead, he gritted his teeth and said:

"You bastard, didn't you say there were no more spirits left?!"

Mr. Ying added in his light indifferent tone:

"There are no 'extra' spirits left."

"You..."

Hong Luoyu's mouth twitched, then he pointed to the high-quality, patterned satin clothing on the scholar in the green robe, speaking through clenched teeth:

"What about this, then?"

The scholar in the green robe looked at him, snorted coldly, and did not respond further.

The white-haired Taoist beside him, appearing semi-translucent, added with a smile:

"Most in this world judge by appearance. As the leader, wearing clothes that match one's status is necessary, using more spirit is also normal."

"You... you, you all..."

Hong Luoyu was filled with indignant sorrow, speechless, he gritted his teeth and shot up into the sky, disappearing without a trace.

The ancient Taoist, believing himself only one step away from becoming the Palace Master of Mount Wudang's Zixiao Palace, watched Hong Luoyu vanish, then turned his gaze back to the scholar in the green robe and said earnestly:

"You shouldn't always bully Luoyu like this, it's not nice..."

The scholar couldn't be bothered to look at him, focusing only on the military formation being trained below.

This formation, already adjusted with Wang Anfeng as the commander based on that so-called Heavenly Inquiry Scroll Fragment, showed that after several days of practice, the qi mechanisms of the three hundred men were gradually syncing with Wang Anfeng's.

If a master with accomplishments in the martial arts were hundreds of miles away, they would only vaguely sense the presence of one person's qi mechanism.

After a few more days of familiarization, they would be able to conceal even those slight fluctuations. When the time for battle came, without the need for acclimatization, just taking up a sword and mounting a horse, they could strike like a surprising goose, ready for use.

After practicing the saber technique several times, it finally ended, and Wang Anfeng planted his saber in the ground, no different from the past few days, and simply said:

"Sheathe your sabers."

Three hundred men moved in unison, almost as if they were a single person.

Wang Anfeng saw Gong Yu, dressed in white and bearing a sword, standing not far away with his usual light, jade-like expression, seemingly waiting for him. He smoothly spoke up:

"Pair up, practice the saber for an hour on your own."

Three hundred men responded with a unified salute.

"Yes!"

Only then did Wang Anfeng walk towards Gong Yu.

PS: Presenting the second update of the day... three thousand words