Why do I have so many masters?

"The job..." Explore more stories at novelbuddy

Wang Anfeng murmured to himself, his gaze sweeping over the courtyard, observing each of the martial artists. These experienced individuals had all concealed their presence by various means, making them almost imperceptible to the unsuspecting eye. Yet in the eyes of the young man, no matter how cunning their techniques, they were futile.

In the past two years, his growth had not been limited to martial arts.

Sacred texts, secret techniques of Jianghu, and all sorts of useful skills—he had delved into them all.

Even his most eccentric third master, who taught him Qinggong during their sparring sessions, had imparted many lessons to him. Compared to Hong Luoyu, who could follow him stealthily and unnoticed, these martial artists’ methods of concealing their presence were like swiss cheese—full of holes and recklessly executed—to the young man’s eyes.

Too green.

Wang Anfeng looked down upon these martial artists with a calm expression.

Assassins?

In the Jianghu of Great Qin, assassins fell into two categories.

One was like those from sects such as Danfeng Valley.

The assassins were all sect disciples, uniformly taught in martial arts and experiences, ruthless in nature, executing their victims without mercy. The other group consisted of hermits, those martial artists of Jianghu who did not wish to tread the conventional path and, in order to earn a large sum of money quickly, got their targets’ information from middlemen, committed murder, and received their silver coins.

Wang Anfeng was extremely familiar with Danfeng Valley; one of its four protectors, Xia Changqing, had died by his hand.

The assassins emerging from that valley, no matter their appearance or temperament, were nothing like ordinary people. They didn’t look human, their voices didn’t sound human, and their attacks were relentless and ferocious, ruthless to both others and themselves, leaving no way back. If they were disciples of Danfeng Valley, they would react like wild wolves when captured, fiercely lashing out, never chattering as much as the short, stocky man before him.

At that moment, Peng Qisui, whose wrist pulse Wang Anfeng had clutched, could no longer endure the relentless, seemingly endless pain, and couldn’t help but kneel to the ground, grimacing as he said:

"Young man, let go a bit, your grip is too strong."

"Big brother..."

"No, I can’t take it anymore."

Wang Anfeng pondered for a moment, then released his right hand.

Peng Qisui stumbled a few steps, having no intention of lingering at the place. Utilizing the momentum of his stagger, he flipped over and scurried away awkwardly. In just a few breaths, he had turned into a nearby street and vanished from sight.

And even at that moment, his movements were so light that he didn’t make a sound and did not attract the attention of the people in the courtyard, showing the mastery of his Qinggong, on par with the prowess of experts from a whole region or province, and signaling a prudence and restraint far beyond that of ordinary people.

After rushing through several streets, covering nearly ten li, Peng Qisui finally stopped, leaning against the cold stone wall, panting heavily.

Just moments ago, he thought he was going to meet his end there. Now that he had escaped with his life and caught his breath, he realized that his legs were weak, nearly unable to run anymore.

He grimaced and cursed under his breath.

The assassin realm in Xi Dingzhou had given rise to such a formidable and unknown character.

Damn it, the future jobs are getting tougher and tougher.

While cursing, he reached for his waist.

Caught in his haste to escape, he had let that man take his weapon, but thankfully his waist token was still there, or he would have likely troubled himself with many issues...

As his palm touched his waist, he found it empty.

Peng Qisui’s expression suddenly froze, his pupils dilated, and after standing there in shock for a moment, he abruptly stood up, frantically searching his body, flipping through his clothes, truly unable to find the item, his complexion growing paler by the second.

In the assassin realm, there are rules to the assassin realm.

This waist token is the identifier that the organization uses to recognize its subordinates. Losing the token could be said to equate to losing the identity of an assassin. This wasn’t a particularly important matter, but he had always been extremely cautious. His mind couldn’t help but recall that unfamiliar, mild-mannered youth, his eyes wide with panic.

"I remember I brought that thing with me when I left."

Could it have been stolen by someone?

But I only made contact with that person just now. It must have been him, but what does he want with my waist token?

Could it be—

If that’s really the case, I’m fucked!

Peng Qisui swallowed hard, the more he thought about it, the paler his face became, until it was utterly devoid of color. After pondering for a moment, he suddenly stood up with a swoosh and began to run for his life towards the outside, sprinting past two streets. He spotted five patrol officers who seemed to be listless from patrolling all night and were yawning incessantly.

The leader, upon seeing Peng Qisui running towards them, mustered his energy and said:

"What is your—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Peng Qisui slapped him across the face, making stars appear in his eyes and causing him to stagger back. Lifting his head, a handprint was visible on his face, and he was stunned for a moment before his eyes suddenly blazed with anger.

With a clang, five Great Qin swords were quickly drawn and pointed directly at Peng Qisui’s neck.

The assassin who had lost his waist token casually straightened his clothes, raised his hand with a radiant smile, and said:

"Officers, I admit my guilt."

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

Above the courtyard next to the Tiger’s Roar Martial Arts School.

Wang Anfeng watched Peng Qisui leave and didn’t make a move. His right hand was holding the Emei Watershed Spike that he had just stopped, which was in his grasp, and his left hand flipped over, pinching a thin, dark token between his fingers, carved with a green-faced ghost head, with fangs and a ferocious smile—it was the one he had taken from Peng Qisui during his escape.

The youth’s expression was calm.

As the only disciple of the present day Divine Thieves Sect, how could he not master the art of pickpocketing?

With a deft twist of his finger, he put away the waist token.

Wang Anfeng shifted his gaze to the Jianghu assassins, his thoughts serene.

The mastermind hiring these Jianghu assassins must be trying to test him.

And at the same time, hide their own tracks to prevent being traced back.

In other words, these assassins from Xi Dingzhou, with their considerable reputations, were merely pawns, merely a way to test out the martial arts style of the person protecting Tan Yurou. If found to be slightly inferior, perhaps the next day would bring a true expert who would defeat Wang Anfeng, capture Tan Yurou, and use her to coerce that ’old man’ into submission.

Only, it was unknown who this person lurking behind the scenes was.

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That morning, before Tan Yurou arrived, a martial artist clad in black with a bamboo hat had already tested him. It seemed that the individual who hired these assassins was not the same, meaning that at least two forces were involved in this turmoil, eyeing the aging Tiger King, eyeing Tan Yurou.

Wang Anfeng exhaled a breath of foul air, as his stray thoughts gradually sank into the lake of his heart.

With the Emei Watershed Spike still held in his right hand, he stood up, and under the moonlight with his garment fluttering slightly, the youth in plain clothes looked down at the Jianghu assassins who were on guard against each other and slowly moved around, his expression calm and collected.

It has begun.

PS: Presenting the first chapter...