Why do I have so many masters?-Chapter 540 - 183 Under Jue Que, Killing Sword 33 (2/2)

Master Tai Shu's lips trembled slightly as he said,

"The Great Swordsman of Western Chu was a veteran in the army, and in those days, he dominated the feudal lords with his strength. Holding the Jue Que Sword, he was even more powerful, but it has long been lost to the world."

"Back then, the Great Swordsman, Zi Gaoyang, was obsessed with swords and was called 'Sword Ghost' by the leaders of the Taoist Sect. There were no tales of him favoring any woman, nor of him having children..."

Lin Qiaofu shook her head and said in a low voice,

"Zi Gaoyang had an older brother named Zihua. After the fall of Chu, he moved to Yongyi and had three sons and one daughter."

Master Tai Shu turned pale and could only muster a bitter smile.

Seeing his expression, Lin Qiaofu lowered her head and muttered, "All this I read from the miscellaneous books in our clan, I do not know whether it is true or false, or perhaps these are the descendants or successors of Zi Gaoyang..."

"That would be even worse..."

The old man with the sword grimaced, feeling he had really hit a streak of bad luck. After struggling all his life, the crises and dangers he had faced pale in comparison to this one.

Blocked by a mysterious Fourth Rank Martial Artist, it looked like a dead end from any angle.

He didn't know which nemesis he had provoked.

The old man sighed heavily, but then thought that after a lifetime of being unremarkable, he was about to witness a fight between three extraordinary swordsmen. If he could die under one of the ten famous swords praised by past generations, it would be a fitting end, and he perked up a bit.

A loud explosion sounded again, startling an endless flurry of birds.

The vault of heaven was high above.

Mysterious phenomena were faintly appearing in that part of the sky and earth, and a chill seeped into Lin Qiaofu's neck. Subconsciously, the young girl shrank her neck, looked up and saw that small white snowflakes were falling from the pale gray sky.

The girl in white caught the snowflakes with her hand, her temple hair slightly moving.

This was the only serene scene amidst the overwhelming killing aura.

The sound of sword cries rang out again.

The famous sword Jue Que swept across the void. Its broad blade tore through the air, its sword qi almost materializing. Wang Anfeng supported himself with his left hand on the ground, and his right leg, like a fierce python, lashed towards the burly man's neck, ferocious in momentum.

His right hand held a sword, counteracting the Jue Que. For a moment, the two swords were at a stalemate.

The Jue Que pressed down slowly.

The masked man lifted his left arm, catching Wang Anfeng's kick, which was as fierce as a tiger swiping its tail, without any trouble. But soon, Wang Anfeng clenched his teeth in secret, and his leg lit up with thunder.

The force on the Jue Que suddenly decreased.

The twin swords were now evenly matched.

The qi mechanism tugging, Gong Yu dropped from the sky, lightly tapping her right foot on the sword body of the Jue Que. The broad famous sword was instantly covered with frost and snow.

Her white dress fluttered, her black hair flying, Gong Yu raised her right hand, and the sword in her hand pierced towards the man's brow, like a sudden flash of cold light.

The masked man roared like a tiger, the qi mechanism in his sword surged, and he let go of Wang Anfeng's right leg. The sudden burst of brute force actually threw Wang Anfeng directly away, and with a swift move, he crouched and held the sword with both hands, slanting it upwards, only to be pierced straight through by Gong Yu's long sword.

A crisp, cracking sound, the deep blue frost covering the sword shattered, like fragments of a colored glass cup, refracting radiant light. Amid the radiance, the swordmaster stepped forward, leveraging the broadness of the Jue Que, exerted strength in his arms, and the sword's edge swept at Gong Yu's abdomen.

Gong Yu lightly tapped her foot in the air, condensing qi into ice, flipping backwards.

The blade of the Jue Que missed Gong Yu's fair, jade-like neck by less than half an inch, failing to reach her. Her hair fluttered slightly, shortened by an inch, but her expression remained as cold and serene as before, landing firmly on the ground.

The fluttering black hair fell back into place.

Meanwhile, Wang Anfeng, having been thrown off balance, didn't fall but instead used the momentum to step on the wind. In the moment the man repelled Gong Yu, a sharp sword light flashed, slicing across the sword-holding hands of the Jue Que's master.

Blood spattered.

Now the movement turned to stillness, not as fierce as the initial exchange, but the underlying qi mechanism was far more dangerous and fierce than before.

From afar, Master Tai Shu was dazzled.

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If it had not been a life-or-death battleground, he would have almost irresistibly clapped and shouted out loud. This attack and defense reached the ultimate intricacies of sword qi and technique that he knew, and in the realm of tactical intent, they were all beyond anything he could hope to achieve.

Sword divides intent, momentum, technique—all he had sought in life was here.

Master Tai Shu applauded and sighed, feeling fortunate to have witnessed this duel today. Even if he died, he would have no regrets.

Although it was the first time Wang Anfeng and Gong Yu had teamed up against an enemy, they seemed to have coordinated countless times before, fitting together perfectly. After moving past the tough resistance, one employing frost and snow and the other calling upon wind and thunder, they had only exchanged a dozen moves briefly but had already forced the opponent to defend.

For any ordinary Fourth Rank Martial Artist, it would already be deemed a perilous situation. Martial artists aren't immortals; being stabbed through a vital point means death just the same.

But the opponent's experience was formidable, his moves resolute, his external cultivation so strong that even the weapon in Gong Yu's hands couldn't pierce through. Amid the swings of the Jue Que in his palm, he nearly perfectly demonstrated the prowess of sword momentum.

The sword light dimmed, and Wang Anfeng now stood by Gong Yu's side, a broad sword in his hand tangled with wind and thunder, his demeanor calm as ice, without the slightest wavering.

His inner strength foundation, having received the true teachings of the late grandmaster Liu Wuqiu, was extremely pure. In just a moment, his earlier loss was largely restored. Glancing at the Jue Que's master, he too took the sword in both hands, his posture slightly bent, the sword hilt level with his right ear, the sword body resting on his left forearm's elbow.

A fierce killing intent emerged, no less intense than that of the deep and formidable Jue Que's master.

This was clearly one of the top killing swords in the world.

Wang Anfeng said solemnly,

"I'll take the lead."

Gong Yu nodded, her eyes slightly closed.

The sword in her hand, slightly narrower and increasingly light and slender, hummed softly.

The snow in the heavens was growing heavier.

However, twenty miles away, though the skies were somewhat gloomy, there wasn't a sign of snowfall. Indeed, it was almost March now, and unless one traveled further north, there was little chance of encountering snow.

This place was already considered to be on the official road of Great Qin, albeit on a slightly secluded sidetrack. Even so, a small tavern had sprung up here. Although it was a place that sold alcohol, it also served tea and could whip up a bowl of plain noodles if requested.

A person was now sitting on a stool, heartily devouring a bowl of noodles.

He was merely a young man about twenty, quite handsome. The tavern owner, who had been in this location for over a decade, had never seen such a good-looking person. Dressed in ivory white garments with a jade belt around his waist, he was simply tucking into a bowl of plain noodles with great gusto.

At the end, he placed the bowl directly on the table. The tavern owner glanced at it and saw that not a drop of noodle soup was left—he had cleaned it out completely.

Seated nearby, the tavern owner's daughter, who was only four or five, played quietly, stealing glances at the handsome young man and giggling aloud as she pointed at her own face and said in her tender voice:

"Shame-shame…"

"Got noodles on your face, silly…"

The young man paused, then raised his hand to touch his face, brushing off a bit of green onion that had apparently landed there by accident.

The adjacent tavern owner quickly came forward, slapping his daughter's head lightly before awkwardly saying with a forced smile:

"Young master, my daughter is still small."

"You're a generous man, so please don't take it to heart."

After being hit, the little girl, still quite young, was initially stunned before she started to cry out loud. The crying grew louder, and her father's scolding did little to help. He became more uneasy, his hands rubbing together nervously.

The young man chuckled helplessly, looking at the green onion in his hand, and popped it into his mouth. He stood up without saying a word, reaching into his bosom and pulling out a handful of copper coins. He scattered them on the table, saying:

"Tavern owner, let's settle the bill."

"Ah, alright…"

The tavern owner sighed heavily in relief and hurriedly approached.

The little girl felt deeply aggrieved after being hit by her father. She sobbed, clutching a dusty toy in one hand while wiping her eyes with the other. Tears continued to fall. Suddenly, hearing no more from her father, she sniffled, lowering her arms.

Seeing the person standing in front of her—the same one who got her scolded—she couldn't help but tremble slightly, stepping back. Just then, the elegantly dressed young man suddenly squatted down, startling her.

She saw the young man open his hands, resting them on his cheeks, and pull a big, silly face at her, making 'woo-wah' noises. The little girl was stunned for a moment but then burst into giggles at the comical sight, and the young man laughed softly as well.

He looked very charming when he smiled.

He raised his hand to touch the girl's black hair, not minding the dirt, and stood up. He looked at the anxious man before him and said with a gentle smile:

"Tavern owner, I'm looking to visit some relatives in the nearest town; I need you to guide me there."

The man hesitated and then said slowly:

"Well, this…"

Gazing at the distant gathering storm clouds, the young man chuckled, patting the bulging money bag at his waist, and said:

"It's fine, I'll pay you…"

"Okay then..."

The man turned to pack up the tavern's belongings while the young man straightforwardly picked up the somewhat dirty little girl, telling her several jokes that girls liked, making her laugh delightedly. He too smiled, revealing eight white teeth as warm as the wind beneath the spring mountain.

Gazing past the little girl's shoulder at the dark clusters of clouds in the distance, he mused:

"The weather's changing, isn't it…"

As the man loaded everything onto a cart and led out the donkey tied nearby, the young man unceremoniously seated himself at the back of the cart with the little girl, casually answering the man's ingratiating questions while observing the expanding storm clouds.

He sighed inwardly:

"Without Li Qidao, how long can you hold on?"

"Jue Que, Zhan Qiu, Zhan Lu, Fish Intestines…"

"Using these four swords to send you off from this world should not disgrace you… If there's anyone to blame, ah, it might as well be me, though your father also offended too many people and died too early. How could one man stand against the power of a Noble Clan?"

"Even a common roadside child has a father to shelter her from the wind and rain. You're even less fortunate than she."

"Let's go, go well."

"May you not be reborn into a fatherless household again."

With a creak, the donkey pulled the cart gradually away, the wind growing brisk. The young man took off his overcoat and wrapped the little girl up like a bun, holding her close to shield her from the wind.

The little girl was also very well-behaved.

Under the Jue Que Sword, thirty-three strokes of the Killing Sword swiftly executed.

Inside Shaolin Temple.

Hong Luoyu was already glaring fiercely, shouting out:

"Impossible!"

"This time, it's my turn!"

PS: Today's second update presented…