Why do I have so many masters?

The first to move was a gaunt assassin.

He slowed his steps and drew two daggers from behind his back, moving toward the house. He had taken only a few steps when he suddenly felt a chill in his heart. Almost instinctively, he rolled backward, ending up several meters away, his heart pounding wildly in the deathly still night.

The spot where he had been standing now had a barely audible crack.

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The assassin’s pupils shrank, and his face turned slightly pale.

He lay on the ground, not daring to move.

The person who made a move was a woman standing on a tree branch, her complexion pale, with slender, fair hands showing the traces of her bones, holding an even paler sword.

She stopped the assassin’s sudden move. Her thin sword’s tip quivered slightly, pointing towards another corner.

The piercing killing intent locked onto the dwarf lying in the corner, as small as a child.

The latter’s body was rigidly tense.

But she, too, dared not move.

Three icy gazes were fixed on her forehead, throat, and heart.

As an assassin, she naturally knew that any slight move on her part would bring a thunderous attack. With her martial arts, she might be able to dodge the first strike, but the second would injure her, and the third would pierce her vitals.

Fine, cold sweat seeped from her forehead, dampening the black hair at her temples.

Yet her expression remained indifferent.

Within this small courtyard, icy gazes crisscrossed, each fixing on the other. Any slight movement from one could trigger a subconscious reaction from all, the air tense with killing intent and deadly cold, yet not even the slightest sound was heard.

The night was tranquil, with a gentle breeze, a bright moon, and brilliant stars.

Only in the courtyard was there a quiet entanglement of murderous intent.

Unlike martial artists of Jianghu, whose straightforward confrontations boast of stamina and valor, real assassins, both in movement and in killing, are cold and silent.

They strike in silence.

And in silence, they die.

The person who had hired so many assassins clearly didn’t understand them. Solitary in their profession and quick to escape, those were the true assassins of Jianghu. Firm cooperation is not an assassin’s creed; under the wide heavens, the only thing an assassin trusts is the weapon in their hand.

Breathing was very faint.

Sweat dripped down from foreheads along cheeks.

Yet no one retreated.

Because at this moment, with the qi mechanism stretched to the limit and everyone’s attention thrust to the extreme, any anomaly would provoke a subconscious reaction from all. The situation was like an arrow on a bowstring that could not but be released, as a mixed killing intent enveloped the courtyard, slowly spreading.

Quiet footsteps suddenly sounded.

In this dead silence formed by the killing intent, a young man came from outside the street, pushed open the courtyard gate, and steadily walked in.

Inside the courtyard, where over eight assassins’ tight gazes and swirling murderous intent should have been enough to mentally strain an ordinary person to the point of collapse, the newcomer showed no signs of abnormality, his expression calm as he walked from the pre-dawn street into the courtyard.

The wooden gate closed slowly with a creaking sound.

His footsteps were firm.

One step,

Two steps,

The quiet footsteps, unnoticed, echoed in the minds of each assassin, with everyone’s gaze unconsciously shifting away from their original targets to the young man, without them even being aware of it.

Wang Anfeng’s palm, hanging below the sleeve, was pressing against the Emei Spike. With a flick of his fingers,

a clear and faint whistling sound spread far across the courtyard.

He had many ways to deal with these assassins, whether it was the unique poison of Medicine King Valley or the stealthy qinggong of the Divine Thieves Sect to ambush, all capable of leaving these people behind.

But those were still not enough.

In Jianghu, the truly intense and lethal confrontations often occur outside the exchange of swords.

These people were but expendable pawns thrown out by the enemy behind the scenes, a probe, and also a question posed to Wang Anfeng.

Once he showed the slightest bit of weakness, the ensuing attack would be thunderous and tyrannical, relentless and endless. At that time, he might be able to save his own life with his martial arts skills, but he may not be able to protect Tan Yurou lying on the ground. If something happened to Tan Yurou, he could no longer expect to receive news about Meng Yuexue and Chuan Lian.

Wang Anfeng arrived in front of the main house, turned around, and slightly raised his eyes.

A flick of his finger.

The final crisp sound vanished into the silent night.

An aura quietly surged around the young man, a faint killing intent emerging in the perception of these assassins. However, it lacked the common violent madness of martial artists and was instead serene and steady.

It was like gentle yet piercing ice and snow.

Wang Anfeng’s right hand grasped the Emei Watershed Spike, raising it slowly, while his left hand was deliberately exaggerated, placed behind his back, seemingly casual but his body was already secretly channeling the Ten Powers of Tathagata, the Dharma of the mighty moving mountains.

His gaze was gentle. Wang Anfeng looked at these hidden martial artist assassins. Due to his preceding actions, everyone’s attention was on him. The young man’s heart rate quickened slightly, but his expression remained the same as he said indifferently:

"Here lies a good head, who will come forth to claim it?"

The numerous assassins were slightly startled and then all understood.

The person before them was the target!

After a moment of dead silence, the long-repressed intent to kill burst forth instantly. Because of Wang Anfeng’s previous movements, these assassins weirdly achieved unanimity. Streaks of murderous intent directly locked onto Wang Anfeng, thin swords slightly tilted, daggers clashing.

In the low, ominous whistling of the weapons, a quiet and calm voice broke the silence:

"All of you, come at once."

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

Among the night, a slender figure leaped repeatedly across the rooftops.

In just an instant, it had covered dozens of yards, a curved saber strapped on his back, crouching atop a tavern roof, his face veiled in black, eyes sharp as a hawk’s overlooking the distance. He spotted the Fierce Tiger Mountain Flag hanging down and saw a rather tranquil courtyard.

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A fierce killing intent surfaced in his eyes, his right hand rising to touch the hilt of his saber.

Just a few steps after jumping down, he saw flickering cold lights within the courtyard. Taken aback, he utilized his Pupil Skill to have a closer look. Suddenly his vision zoomed in, and he saw weapons planted into the ground within the courtyard, whispering slightly as the wind passed over them.

Next to these weapons, which he found somewhat familiar, were several figures lying down, all with their eyes wide open, breathless, which caused the martial artist’s pupils to constrict abruptly.

When he saw that each of the fallen had a single bloody mark on their throats, the hardness in his eyes turned to sheer horror, and he launched his movement technique, fleeing in disarray as if running for his life.

Tonight, who knows how many people had come to this place, but upon seeing the scene within the courtyard, without exception, they all fled for their lives, with not a single one daring to approach within ten yards of the courtyard again.

The night grew even more deathly quiet.

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

Meanwhile.

Wang Anfeng walked swiftly, his figure extremely agile as he employed the Mixed Yuan Body technique from Medicine King Valley, sensing the scent of the Miracle Medicine dispersed in the air. Today, while that martial artist with the conical hat was testing him, he had planted this Miracle Medicine on the latter.

It was time to reel in the catch.

Although it was a bit risky, he had already ’written’ his reply to the person behind the scenes in the courtyard. Any other assassins coming along, as long as they weren’t blind, would not step into that yard again.

And for those lacking even this level of caution, Medicine King Valley had many methods, specifically to deal with such individuals.

His figure landed again, and with a light push against the nearby blue stone wall with his palm, he once again leaped forward. This was because he had just come out from the ’Old Mister’s’ residence today, and on the way, he had been tested. He had originally thought the person making the move was from within the residence, but the scent of the Miracle Medicine pointed him in another direction.

After rushing with Qinggong for the time it takes to brew half a pot of tea, Wang Anfeng stopped in front of a mansion.

This residence was quite grand, with two large stone lions crouching at the door. Using the faint moonlight, one could see two bold characters on the plaque, written with vigorous, though flawed strokes, yet they conveyed an extraordinary presence.

No five-year-old child, even if they had practiced writing a bit, would be able to produce such characters.

No seventy-year-old elder, even after being immersed in the art of calligraphy for fifty years, could write like this.

Wang Anfeng looked at the plaque and muttered internally:

"In Xi Dingzhou, the Divine Fist is unrivaled."

"Zhao Residence."

PS: The second update is presented...