Why do I have so many masters?

Autumn had grown denser.

In the maple forest of Fufeng Academy, hues of red gradually took over, as if a burning phoenix had fallen there.

Inside Wind Character Tower, Wang Anfeng leaned against one side, holding a book in his hand. Over the past ten days, his diligent practice had finally allowed him entrance into the basics of Prajna Palm, passed down by his master. His second master had also taught him a finger technique, divided into the close-combat Acupoint Sealing Technique and the fierce and powerful Finger Force for long-range attacks.

The latter relied on profound Internal Strength Cultivation, which he could not yet freely use at the time, but the close-combat technique went relatively well because of his modest medical knowledge, even surpassing the Prajna Palm in practical application in Copper Man Lane.

As for the Prajna Palm, in his hands, the combat power it displayed was just beyond Shaolin Changquan, not yet revealing the true might of Buddhism's leading palm technique. He knew it was because his martial arts skills were not yet adept, and so he did not mind it.

With these thoughts, his mind had become quite cluttered.

Wang Anfeng could hear the rain outside the window falling with increasing intensity; the sound of raindrops hitting the bluestone was noisy and chaotic. Irritated, he flipped through his book much faster than usual and could not focus on the content.

In his mind, two faces kept appearing uncontrollably.

One was very blurry, the other very clear.

The blurry face belonged to a woman, with soft contours that would suggest great beauty, but the most vivid memory was of a hand caressing his cheek.

The hand was as white as bone.

It felt as cold as bone too but was still not as chilling as the droplets falling on his cheek, which were bone-piercingly cold and shiver-inducing.

In his memory, that day had experienced a severe storm.

The youth covered the book with his right hand and looked up, feeling the dampness in the air and the suffocation of excessive humidity, as if he were close to drowning.

This was the biggest rain of the year.

Wang Anfeng frowned.

He disliked the rain very much.

Especially the autumn rain.

Especially a torrential rain in autumn.

He breathed out a turbid breath, stood up, and placed the book he had been holding back in its original position. Perhaps due to the heavy rain outside, there seemed to be more people in Wind Character Tower today. The subtle footsteps mixed together made him more uncomfortable than the thunderous noise and the flipping of pages.

Wang Anfeng looked up at the all-too-familiar Wind Character Tower and realized that because the tower was indeed very tall, he had not noticed any significant increase in people.

It seemed even sparser than before.

The youth's brows were tightly furrowed. He raised his hand to loosen his collar, finding his breathing slightly easier.

He felt the urge to shout in anger to vent, but his inherent nature suppressed this desire deep within his heart, much like the other face had always done.

Even to death, still smiling.

A familiar scholar walked by and greeted him. Wang Anfeng nodded warmly as usual. When the scholar opened his bamboo umbrella at the door, some raindrops splashed out. Wang Anfeng's palm instinctively trembled slightly but showed no outward sign of disturbance and simply reached for a new book.

He flipped it open at random, and his eyes quickly captured a line within.

"...and Yun ended up regretting her credulity, as her blood disease worsened dismally, interrupting her comfort during rest, and no remedy proved effective, consisting of intermittent episodes, reducing her once robust figure to mere bones."

The youth's grip on the book tightened a bit, and he fell silent, closing the book, which revealed its cover titled "Records of a Troubled Life: Chronicles of Sorrow." The lettering, unique and carefree, was quite elegant. Yet, Wang Anfeng felt increasingly depressed.

Back in June, outside Dingwu City, he had felt similarly when he saw a Seventh Rank Martial Artist of White Tiger Hall fall, his blood washed away by the rain, strangely alleviating his gloom. The Confucian Sect preaches a gentleman should be reserved even in solitude, and he suppressed this dark corner of his heart, but today it was an autumn rain.

And it was a torrential one.

Moreover, that person had passed away soundly exactly eight years ago today.

In the autumn rains of days past, when he swung his butchering knife, there was a particular exhilaration. The innkeeper leaned nearby, watching him in quiet, tranquil silence.

Memories of the shabby man in the small cabin in Great Liang Village, always smiling till his last breath, rushed back to him.

The remedies were ineffective, his episodes intermittent, his body dwindling away.
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Such excellent literary flair, it seemed so vivid.

Wang Anfeng sighed.

'He' couldn't withstand the cold, even on rainy days with a blazing fire, he left during an autumn rain.

That day, the storm was bigger than today's, with thunder roaring in the sky, as if bidding farewell.

The youth let out a breath and gently knocked on his forehead, smirking inwardly.

The more he thought about it, the more thoughts piled up, like a sow giving birth.

His lips parted in a smile, but even without looking in a mirror, he knew his smile must be painfully ugly at the moment.

With thoughts whirling in his mind, Wang Anfeng stood up, picked up the bamboo umbrella next to him, and walked outside. Just as he stepped out without opening the umbrella, there was a young man with bright eyes who shouted loudly,

"Hahaha, Wang Anfeng, have you finally decided to come out?!"

"I've been waiting for you for a long time. If you're not afraid, come and battle me quickly!"

He wore an identifiably opulent yellow vigorous attire, his right hand holding a treasure sword sheath studded with seventeen or eighteen gemstones. It looked more like a precious artifact than a weapon. With two beauties holding umbrellas beside him, he wasn't touched by the misty rain and still looked dashing. At this moment, his eyes almost sparked as they fixed on Wang Anfeng.

Being listed on the Constellation Ranking List, Fufeng's Innkeeper naturally faced challenges, some for fame and others purely to verify their learning. But since he wasn't on the Heavenly Gang and Earthly Fiends List, ordinary people couldn't challenge him.

And most importantly, almost everyone in Fufeng County City knew by now.

This Innkeeper was a good person, a rare good person.

Challenging him wouldn't result in an ugly defeat and talking with friends afterward, one could boast about having sparred with a master on the Constellation Ranking List, lasting forty or fifty moves before being defeated by one technique—and there was honor in that.

Wang Anfeng looked up into the rain at the young man in the yellow shirt, his heart clouded with gloom, yet he still maintained self-control and made a gesture of respect with his fists,

"Sorry, I have some matters to attend to today."

His words meant he was unwilling to accept the challenge.

The young man slightly frowned.

This Innkeeper usually didn't refuse others' sparring requests, as if he was quite interested in others' martial arts. Being refused this time was new for him. Some familiar friends nearby started to laugh, causing the young man's face to lose composure. Since the Innkeeper was always modest and polite, he felt no hint of fear and involuntarily sneered after hearing the rejection,

"Why would the Innkeeper show such partiality? It's merely a spar; could it be that the Innkeeper is afraid?"

To this provocative speech, the young man's attendant behind him simply closed his eyes and stood still, not reacting at all. Nearby, four or five elegantly dressed young men let out strange mocking laughs, irritating the young man in the yellow shirt. Amid the clanging sounds, he already drew his sword and held it horizontally in the rain, saying,

"It's just a battle. Why must the Innkeeper act this way?"

The rain kept falling.

Wang Anfeng's suppressed mood was gradually beginning to break down.

Looking up, those present were undoubtedly pampered nobles. Since there could be people like Huangfu Xiong or Xue Qinshuang among noble clans, there would also be those who relied on their power, and even these often had strong martial artists protecting them, leaving them unconcerned about others.

Violent thoughts rose in his mind, only to be suppressed by his long-standing state of mind.

No... This is just a normal reaction from someone who has been rejected.

Wang Anfeng whispered inwardly.

Being rejected naturally would make one feel uncomfortable. In this world, things are more about inequality than scarcity. He had not rejected others before, and now rejecting this person would naturally make him feel targeted and angry.

Being on the Constellation Ranking List doesn't imply that one should regard oneself as better than others.

He tried to control himself mentally, but the taunting voices continued non-stop, mixing with the rain, washing over and gathering on the floor. In his mind, the familiar faces amidst the increasingly intense rain became clearer and clearer.

The young man swung his sword, and the rain falling on the sword's spine was forcefully flicked away by the vigorous qi, splashing onto Wang Anfeng's face like a touch from a woman's pale bony fingers, akin to a drop of cold, murky tear.

His grip on the bamboo umbrella tightened gradually.

Seeing that Wang Anfeng was no longer responding to him, the young man clicked his tongue, showing anger yet also knowing that this person was quite a talented martial artist and that he shouldn't go too far, as he wasn't his elder brother. He decided he would vent some anger at the drawing boats, his palm shaking as he prepared to sheathe his sword, giving Wang Anfeng another look and sneering coldly.

He was always overbearing and his words were never polite. He wanted to ask if Wang Anfeng was in a hurry to attend a funeral, but he didn't want to stoop to common insolence, which would result in bearing grudges. He merely gestured casually with his fists and chuckled, saying,

"Then I should not disturb the Innkeeper any further."

"Sorry for the intrusion today; here's to wishing long life and prosperity to your family members."

Wang Anfeng's form trembled slightly, and a faint hint of blood surfaced in his pupils.

Today was the anniversary of death.

The face of the young man in front of him gradually merged with the sight of a White Tiger Hall martial artist lying in a pool of blood.

PS: Here's the first update...