Why do I have so many masters?

Chapter 704: Chapter 24 Divine Martial Mansion! (9000-word 2-in-1)

The overwhelming and profound fist strength, like an enraged dragon soaring into the sky, enveloped dozens of martial artists, either tearing or colliding with them. Different types of vigorous qi intermingled like undercurrents beneath the surface of the water, entangling with each other and resulting in a horrifying spectacle of carnage to the naked eye.

On the spot, more than a dozen people coughed up blood and retreated.

The original entrance was a small gap squeezed out between two mountain cliffs, narrow and oppressive. But then, it was blown open by the dragon-like fist strength into a sizeable gap, as if a corner of the sky were missing.

Wang Anfeng retracted his right hand and drew the longsword from the ground.

As far as the eye could see ahead, the terrain was now flat. The people of Jianghu who harbored hostility and fear towards him no longer had the rocks to shield them, suddenly feeling almost within arm’s reach.

He advanced step by step, steadily forward, the dark cyan of his robe fluttering.

For a moment, the silence was akin to the stillness of death.

Next to Cao Donglin, the Great Swordsman hovering in the air had intense light in his eyes, as if he had spotted some precious treasure. After the Jiangdong Hero beside him gave a slight nod, without any hesitation, the Great Swordsman with his longsword in hand plunged down towards his target.

Cao Donglin stood with his hands behind his back.

The gaunt man in black beside him turned to glance at the densely packed crowd of Jianghu martial artists behind him, which seemed endless, then returned his gaze to the young man walking forward with a sword, murmuring,

“He is indeed a man of valor, one with great boldness. Such a man, if he does not die, will surely make a great name for himself in the future. However, no matter how deep the waters of Jianghu are, how many Flood Dragons can it accommodate that thrash their tails? To use a thousand Jianghu martial artists for a burial seems a bit meager…”

The Suicide Squad, previously embedded among the Jianghu martial artists, naturally knew what should be done and started to make a commotion.

Prior, they dared not attack Wang Anfeng, but as the Yan-named Swordsman descended from the sky, his sword wrapped in Wind and Thunder aimed heavily at Wang Anfeng, much of their hesitation dissipated.

Bold men emerge where there are great rewards.

If the reward is halved, and with the blade’s edge at their necks, there will be those who throw caution to the wind even in the direst of situations.

One of the previous generation’s Famous Swords, the Yan Zhi Sword, is light and agile, with a long and rigid spine but narrower and thinner blades on the sides. The sword in the hands of the Yan-named Swordsman was completely different – heavy and broad, with a blade reminiscent of a mountain inverted and suspended, not yet drawn. With the momentum of his descent from the sky, the Yan-named Swordsman gripped the sword hilt tightly and struck down fiercely.

Wang Anfeng quickly raised the Yan Zhi Sword in his hand to block.

In that instant, it was as if a myriad of golden urns rang out in unison, noisy and piercing to the ear. Although the longsword had not yet been drawn, the malevolent aura pulsing within the sheath could not be contained, and the undercurrent surged forth, causing ripples to spread across the garments of the two swordsmen, trembling, and then the very ends of their robes flicked, creating a sound as the air was compressed into a thick surge, swirling like clouds on either side of them.

In that moment, whether it was the Qing Taoqi who had retreated for the time being or the Jianghu martial artists continually stirring with the intent to kill, they all held their breath subconsciously.

The Yan-named Swordsman facing Wang Anfeng was from Great Qin’s Southern Frontier, tall with a rugged aura. Behind him were shattered rocks, endless pine waves, and low-hanging clouds that spread for miles, with no borders in sight, vast and quiet, akin to a bygone afternoon when Libo lay drunk under the setting sun, with half a cup of wine remaining in his hand.

Then the tranquil scene was shattered as martial artists roared to bolster their courage, and Vigorous Attire of various colors obscured the vast sky, as masses of people leaped from behind the Yan-named Swordsman, brandishing their weapons high.

Gleaming eyes revealed the spread of red blood vessels on pale sclera.

Wang Anfeng did not move.

The small Jade Plaque on his collar inscribed with a name gently swayed.

Divine Martial, Wang Anfeng.

They had been in this valley for a full two months now. With manpower being abundant over that time, no matter how hard the mountain cliffs, they could not withstand the weapons of martial artists.

In a pathway that had been cleaved open, where no one knew when the Qing Taoqi had retreated, old Lu with a face full of beard, Tai Shu Jian with white hair and sword, and even the cool and jade-like Gong Yu, sat cross-legged, their expressions serene.

At the very core of the group was a young man who had changed into black clothes and donned armor, his black hair which was usually held together with a Jade Hairpin had become somewhat disheveled, and those eyes that usually glanced only at delicate girls now widened in shock at the scene before him.

Wang Anfeng’s initial Fist Strength had not killed many, but it had shattered the obstacles in view, and now Yuchi Jie could see everything clearly.

Yuchi Jie’s complexion was pale – not ghastly pale, but the bloated white from the hot and stuffy days of summer. With every breath, his body trembled once, yet his breathing remained smooth, like a vortex on a vast calm lake, gradually bringing the breathing of the entire Qing Taoqi in sync with his.

A breath in, a breath out.

As if a beast, too massive for the imagination, lay waiting in silence here.

When he saw Wang Anfeng make a move, he did not act; when he saw the Great Swordsman ranked in the top ten of the Sword List plunge from the sky, he did not act; and even when those martial artists charged out, he stood still.

When the martial artist with the fastest movement technique had already stormed into the center of the valley.

The calculations for the Military Formation in Yuchi Jie’s mind were instantly complete. He opened his mouth, his bloodless face filled with calm, his voice already hoarse. His lips parted, and he uttered words as if practicing daily with Wang Anfeng, just two words: