Why do I have so many masters?

The incident happened abruptly, and the elder's expression slightly changed. He was about to reach out to pull Wang Anfeng back but hesitated momentarily. In his eyes, the youth showed not the slightest fear or terror. His figure extended gracefully mid-air, and his right hand naturally landed on the hilt of the wooden sword behind him.

His expression and demeanor were akin to a hunting tiger.

The old man, who had already extended his right hand, drew it back and placed it on his waist, taking hold of the enormous wine gourd and tilting it back to pour into his mouth. His gaze fell upon Wang Anfeng, and when he noticed a certain spirit emerging, his eyes lit up, and the corners of his mouth uncontrollably curled up with a shade of disbelief and indescribable delight, murmuring to himself.

No way...

Another martial artist who has grasped sword intent has just arrived.

What's going on today?

Baili Feng and Tuoba Yue, who had rushed out from the Sutra Loft upon hearing the noise, had just arrived when they saw the longsword soaring into the sky, the girl kneeling on the ground, and Wang Anfeng descending from above. Their expressions shifted slightly. Baili Feng, anxious, could not help stepping forward and called out:

"Anfeng!!"

A cold gleam seemed to flash through the youth's eyes, and his hand holding the sword hilt suddenly exerted force.

The Eight-Sided Han Sword slid out of its sheath amidst a piercing sword cry, instantly slicing diagonally at the two longswords that had come from above, crossing left and right once and sparking dazzling fire.

The longswords, uncontrolled by anyone, were repelled.

Wang Anfeng took the opportunity to land in the water, half-squatting to dissipate the force, kicking up a spray of water. Ripples pushed aside, and above the youth's body, blue lightning entangled like dragons, flashing past in an instant.

At this moment, he was surrounded by over a hundred spirit swords.

The spraying water droplets hit the surface, and the spirit swords that had soared into the sky, touched by the qi mechanism, turned again, with the hilt facing upwards and the blade pointing to the ground. The sharp essence accumulated over dozens or hundreds of years emerged, creating ripples on the water surface.

In midair, several figures rushed over, intending to intervene. The old man took a gulp of the muddy wine, casually waved his left hand without any sword moves, just a sideways slap, and a profound vigor swept through the air. The distant clouds scattered, and the frail air compressed into the world's most insurmountable solid barrier, blocking before those figures.

The three figures came to an abrupt stop in mid-flight, revealing their appearances, all women in white with longswords on their backs. Although it was evident that they were not young, their elegance was undiminished, truly exceptional. Each of their longswords was distinct and clearly extraordinary.

The elder took the gourd from his hand, shook it casually, and spoke in an even tone.

"What's the rush? Just watch the show."

The leading woman among them stepped forward, bowed in the void, and said in a deep voice:

"Elder Jiu Zizai, although the spirit swords only instinctively counterattack with moves similar to those of the opponent, there are over a hundred of them. If we just watch, I'm afraid chaos will ensue."

Her voice paused slightly before she emphasized again with more force.

"After all, this is a disciple of Fufeng Academy."

The elder seemed unconcerned, his gaze fixated on the spirit swords below that were stirred by the qi mechanism. He looked as steady as an old pine rooted on a mountain rock for decades, unbreakable and unwavering as he said:

"No harm, I am here."

The spirit swords were without their master and had not become divine weapons. They could only instinctively retaliate based on the strength of the attacker. Among the 131 spirit swords below, even the Three Fools Sword of the Sword Saint, with its residual power, was no match for him.

The elder's gaze focused on the youth below.

He took another sip of wine, raised his right hand holding the wine gourd with a vigorous motion, and the clear liquor spilled from the mouth of the gourd. The air was filled with the pungent fragrance of strong alcohol, evidently the throat-scraping kind. The liquor fell from the sky just right, landing in the center where the sword qi mechanism, as if forming a sword array, invisibly sliced the wine into fine droplets, falling onto the water accumulated from the waterfall.

As if thousands of flying fish were flicking their tails, intricate ripples appeared on the water surface.

Sword cries converged into one.

Wang Anfeng's right foot pressed deeply into the pebbles on the shallow bank. Suddenly exerting force, he stirred up a circle of waves. Like a charging tiger, the youth headed towards Xue Qinshuang, several hundred meters ahead. One after another, the spirit swords lit up and began attacking Wang Anfeng with the moves they had longed to perform over the past decades or even centuries, whether it was slashing or chopping.

The youth's eyes widened slightly, his heart beat very fast, his eyes shining brightly.

He wanted to heal Xue Qinshuang's injuries, so he had to break through the barrier of a hundred swords.

In his mind, seventy-two sword moves for breaking through passed by swiftly.

However, before he could come up with a counter in his mind, his wooden sword had already reacted, his figure abruptly came to a stop, he spun around rapidly, concentrating his spirit, vigor, and mind as one, the wooden sword thrusting straight forward.

A clear and lofty sound of a sword's cry erupted.

The Eight-Sided Han Sword collided with a slender jade sword blade to blade, hitting each other firmly.

A wave of air burst from where the sword edges touched, then swept across all directions, lifting a curtain of water, causing the surrounding longswords to pause slightly. Wang Anfeng's wrist turned, his longsword slightly lifted, deflecting the opposite sword, and his figure took advantage of the momentum to rise.

Longswords passed beneath him, and others slashed from midair.

Some swords aligned in the void, some wailed in a mournful howl.

It seemed those spirit swords had no intention to harm him, each time only three swords participating in the attack, connected by sword intent, sometimes forceful, sometimes sharp, seemingly endless, displaying all those sword moves that once let swordsmen roam the world in their youth.

The youth's pupils contracted slightly, the sword moves in his hands changing increasingly swiftly and sharply, breaking through the array of swordsmanship almost instinctively.

Because Xue Qinshuang acted with reckless abandon, finding nothing but the sword, she grasped the vast sword intent, while Wang Anfeng, out of a desire to save someone, moved his longsword faster and more fiercely, his sword moves becoming exceedingly sharp. The seventy-two break-through moves approached a state of profound mastery through the assault of these longswords.

His body had been trained in External Cultivation, supported by the rich Inner Strength from Shaolin was the foundation.

The seventy-two break-through moves, the Pupil Skill that discerned the flow of Qi, the twenty-eight patterns of Vigorous Qi, became the Sword Embryo.

Honed in Copper Man Lane, having struggled through life and death several times, it was as if being refined to purity, as if being tempered a thousand times over.

If martial artists were to compete for supremacy in the world, today a new sword would be tempered, revealing its sharp essence.

At dawn, its path brightly illuminated.

A tiger cub's roar in a valley caused a hundred beasts to tremble.

In the sky above, the woman was moved, the elder's eyes widened in disbelief, eventually falling to seat amongst the clouds, his white hair dancing wildly, as he clapped and laughed out loud:

"Hahaha, good, good, good!"

"One uses abandonment, walking the path alone, the other uses destruction, wielding the sword to break all the laws under heaven!"

"All is well, all is well!"

"My path is not solitary! My path is not solitary!"

On a thousand-zhang high peak, waterfalls thundered down.

The youth stepped forward.

Longsword slanted in hand.

Behind him, a series of longswords issued a ringing howl, spinning as they landed, stabbing into the surface of the water, trembling incessantly.

In an instant, a clear path was formed.

PS: Second update.