Why do I have so many masters?

Jin Yuansi, hailing from a small sect, instinctively held his breath.

In front of him, and in front of everyone, the thick brocade hanging at the entrance of the golden tent undulated like waves. Then, accompanied by silent footsteps, a person slowly walked out from inside.

He couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath, gripping his longsword tightly, his feelings of panic reaching an extreme, leaving his mind blank except for one thought that kept circling.

Who could be the one able to charge through thousands of troops to get here?

What did they look like?

How old were they?

Thirty, or fifty years old.

Then he saw the assassin's true appearance. In the winter sunlight, that face appeared particularly pale, almost translucent, with hard facial lines, black hair and eyes, an icy murderous aura. All of this combined couldn't hide one fact.

It was merely a young martial artist not much older than him.

Yet, it was also someone who had achieved a once-in-century feat, a person who boldly assassinated a feudal lord protected by thousands during peacetime, destined to be recorded in history books as a legendary assassin.

Jin Yuansi was momentarily stunned.

Wang Anfeng took a deep breath, the cold air entering his lungs like swallowing a mouthful of ice shards, the chill mixed with a stinging sensation. He squinted his eyes, glancing at the people around him.

From their attire, there were Jianghu rangers, sect martial artists, elders from noble clans, and valiant generals in the army. The powerful martial forces that existed within the Parthian Empire were almost all present here.

And in the center, surrounded by protection, were two young men resembling each other. One had a valiant aura, similar to King Balman, while the other had a somewhat sullen air, a presence Wang Anfeng did not favor.

After he came out, the soldiers and Jianghu people who were clamorous just moments before, eager to rush in and cut down the assassin, were now drenched with a metaphorical bucket of ice water, slipping into silence.

No one urged them, and no one stepped forward.

The two sides fell into a bizarre stalemate.

Wang Anfeng was no fool; he quickly guessed their thoughts. They simply didn't want to be the first to take the risk and test the waters. He gave them a slight smile and then casually took a step forward.

Boom!

The sound of thousands of footsteps converged, like muffled thunder.

Just like tidal waves, the elite of the Parthian Empire, armored and wielding sharp blades, took a synchronized step back from the renowned masters of various sects.

The encirclement around Wang Anfeng suddenly widened, creating a large vacant space.

No one wanted to be the first to step forward.

No one knew if this young man still possessed the strength to fight, if he could still execute a few moves and take some lives. No one wanted to be the unfortunate fool paving the way for others.

Besides, they feared fighting to the death only to let an unrelated person deal the final blow, or if they all attacked at once, and this person died amidst their chaotic strikes, how would they determine the victor?

Eyes crossed, weapons slightly raised yet unwilling to strike, they seemed to test each other, testing Wang Anfeng, as well as the other figures in the sects.

Wang Anfeng almost couldn't help but sigh.

They were all too cunning.

At this time, the young man resembling King Balman in features but possessing a somewhat cold demeanor turned his head and spoke a few words to a broad-shouldered man beside him. The man slightly nodded, though taking courage from his astonishment, without hesitation placed his hand on his sword and took large strides forward, his brows snapped in anger, shouting loudly.

The surrounding soldiers echoed, their mouths shouting furiously.

The heavy iron spears and halberds in their hands were lifted and then slammed heavily to the ground. Those with swords and sabers struck their weapons against armor and iron shields, roaring with anger, with the armor's plates issuing a murderous clatter, a thundering murderous aura breaking skyward.

Wang Anfeng lowered his gaze.

The Great Prince and Second Prince exchanged a glance, both feeling somewhat relieved.

Just then, a sharp sword cry suddenly erupted, a piercing sword intent soared to the sky, then spread outwards, a chill activating it causing the Parthian generals' bodies to slightly stiffen. The heavy murderous sound abruptly turned to dead silence.

Jin Yuansi's heart was pounding wildly.

Then he saw that the assassin now held a sheathed longsword, surrounded by thousands, flicking his fingers against the sword hilt, his eyes slightly narrowed, seeming to gaze disdainfully over the heads of those Jianghu seniors and the princes, indifferently and almost lazily saying:

"Get someone who can speak Great Qin... "

"I can't understand."

"Noisy."

At that moment, everyone who understood Great Qin fell silent, and someone conveyed this to the leading general, who, enraged to the point his beard and hair stood on end, slashed the air with his long knife, roaring furiously. How dare you insult our army, you will surely meet an unmarked grave!

But looking at Wang Anfeng's sheathed longsword, the general still bit his lip, sent for a tactician fluent in Great Qin to step forward, as though most of the surrounding masters understood Great Qin, they couldn't possibly undertake such a task.

Moreover, there were matters to clarify before the slaughter ensued.

Thus, despite having an army of fifty thousand, he still had to swallow his pride, sending a tactician, barely in his thirties, to look at the sword in Wang Anfeng's hand, gritting his teeth, stepping forward, and saying: