Why do I have so many masters?-Chapter 446 - 114 A Fleeting Moment of Splendor Passes (1/2)

The young man rushed into the courtyard with excitement in his eyes, shouting loudly:

"Master! Mistress!"

"Big brother has arrived!"

"Big brother is alright, he’s back!"

The wooden door was suddenly pushed open, but no one came out immediately. It took a few moments before a man’s hoarse voice was heard, composed yet seemingly displeased, saying:

"If he has arrived, he has arrived, what is this unnecessary shouting?"

"Has all your Qi Nurturing Technique gone to the dogs?"

Along with the voice, a somewhat portly middle-aged man holding a sword walked out of the courtyard. He saw Hong Feibai standing upright, his expression momentarily stunned, his eyes slightly relieved, but then he noticed the young man’s bloodstained shoulder and the aura about him, and realizing the latter’s indifferent aura, his thick eyebrows furrowed again. Already agitated, his voice turned cold as he said:

"What do you mean by this?!"

"Why didn’t you return to the mountain?!"

The beautiful woman who followed out grabbed the middle-aged man’s arm, signaling him not to be so stiff, then turned to Hong Feibai with a kind and comforting expression, merely consoling him:

"It’s good that you’re back, it’s good that you’re back..."

She was unaware of the matter of the abandoned child.

She only thought as her husband had said, that the disciple with the highest martial arts took his daughter and left.

The young swordsman, whose face now bore the traces of Jianghu life, bowed without performing any formal salutes but gently set down the carriage he was pulling, very carefully and subtly turned around, giving the others his back, which made the man feel inexplicably irritable and snort coldly in response.

The coffin revealed a corner, its dark hue already causing some to change their expressions.

The middle-aged man’s face suddenly looked rather unsightly, as he said:

"Misguided disciple, what do you mean!"

Hong Feibai had already walked out carrying the Black Coffin without responding, merely starting from the third Wutong tree on the old street and heading towards the courtyard step by step, very steadily. The emotions of the middle-aged man had been repressed during this time, and seeing his disciple carry the coffin, he snorted and brushed his sleeve, saying:

"Stop him!"

The five or six sword-carrying disciples at the entrance hesitated, unsure of what to do.

However, one of the men had already drawn his longsword, pointing it towards Hong Feibai:

"The master demands you stop!"

Seemingly threatening, he twirled the sword, aiming it at Hong Feibai’s shoulder.

Hong Feibai neither retreated nor avoided, as if he had something more important than evading; the longsword opened a gash on him, drawing fresh blood. The heart of the man who struck skipped a beat, not expecting that Hong Feibai would not dodge the blow, instantly retracting his sword, his body stiffened, daring not to move further, letting the blood-stained gray-robed youth pass by him.

One man carrying a coffin, others stepping aside.

This scene alone was a perfect story of Jianghu.

Wang Anfeng sat at a tea stall, unable to continue approaching on this journey of an old friend.

The tea stall owner served him tea.

Very poor quality tea, but its strong flavor was indefinable.

It was unclear if the richness was of the tea or the myriad complex emotions of the person tasting it, but he always felt that here, the poor tea, like the plain noodles at the righteousness hall, held a flavor beyond the food itself.

"Didn’t I tell you to stop him, are you deaf?!"

"Can you still wield a sword?"

The middle-aged man commanded great respect, and at this moment his words clearly conveyed his fury, while the eldest disciple remained silent, not knowing what he encountered or showing stubborn temperaments.

The middle-aged man snorted coldly, brushed his sleeve, and walked back into the courtyard.

The disciples wearing blue and white sword robes had no choice but to draw their longswords; although the blades were pointed at Hong Feibai, they had already avoided vital spots, hanging low and pointed at the ground, hesitant to strike.

Hong Feibai continued forward as if he saw nothing.

The Heavenly Sword Sect disciples instinctively stepped back, but eventually, there was no more ground to give. Looking at Hong Feibai, they almost pleaded:

"Big brother, whatever it is, just explain it properly to Master."

"Why must you confront Master like this?"

Hong Feibai seemed to hear nothing.

The youth in green clothes standing three hundred meters away watched Hong Feibai’s back.

He might be the one who best understood Hong Feibai’s emotions at the time.

Like himself and Miss Xue, Hong Feibai would rather be the abandoned child than let the girl be sent to her death, especially knowing that her death was traded for his own survival. He must have felt great hatred, yet the person responsible for this had saved his own life.

He could not hate.

How could he hate?

The young man sighed, glanced at the poor tea next to him, raised his hand, and drank it all.

He set down the tea cup, grasped the sword, and rose to his feet.

The disciples of the Heavenly Sword Sect had no way to retreat, with the stern gaze of their master looming behind them. They could only clench their teeth and say,

"Forgive me, eldest brother…"

"A master’s command is difficult to disobey."

A clear sound of sword cries rang out, six longswords fell upon Hong Feibai, five feints one true, only to hear a tinkling sound at the same moment, their wrists numb as if struck by lightning, unable to hold their weapons any longer.

Six Heavenly Sword Sect standard weapons fell to the ground, and they didn’t even realize how it happened. Suddenly, there stood another person beside them, wearing a dark green robe with a lute case on his back.

His right hand held a crude iron sword upside down.

Nine hundred and seventy coins.

That sword edge was dazzling.

"Who are you?!"

Wang Anfeng was silent for a moment, watching Hong Feibai pass by him, looking at the young man’s figure and sighing.

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The longsword in his hand slightly turned, the youth in the bluish-green gown stood with his hands behind his back, his black hair flowing, holding a three-foot longsword at an angle, and said lightly,

"Just a passerby."

"As are all of us here."

"Please, stop and do not move; otherwise, the sword has no eyes, kindly bear with us."

The crowd was pale with anger.

It was a blatant threat.

Hong Feibai slowly walked forward.

From the parasol tree, to the courtyard, till he stood next to the man.

When he first came here as a child, he was scared, taking small steps, forcefully pulled forward by a little girl much younger than him, needing to take a hundred and twenty-six steps.

Later, as he grew up, his stride became much larger, fiery young, only taking sixty-one steps.

Now he was carrying the black coffin on his back, slowly walking that distance again.

He walked precisely one hundred and twenty-six steps, not one more, not one less.

He stopped walking.

In front of him was a flowerbed, where once a little girl with arms wide open had spun around in front of him, beaming radiantly.

"This is my home."

"It will be yours too…"

The youth stopped, looking up at his master and mistress, his shoulders smeared with blood, gently setting down the black coffin on his back.

He raised his hand and tenderly touched the lid of the black coffin, his expression softened, his voice hoarse as he spoke:

"Junior sister."

"We’re home now."

The people around changed color upon hearing this; the middle-aged man’s body seemed to tremble imperceptibly, the beautiful woman first confused, then quickly a foreboding feeling arose, as Hong Feibai’s stooping figure reached down and fiercely pressed on the coffin with a burst of gentle yet powerful Qi Force.

Like a mist.

The lid of the black coffin flipped open with a clatter, revealing the quietly sleeping girl inside, still so lovely.

The scene was deathly silent, the sound of swords falling to the ground resounding.

In the black coffin, laid a thick layer of fabric, the girl dressed in pink garments, her beautiful features as if she was just peacefully asleep, but in an instant, her youthful visage began to fade away as if thousands of years had passed in a moment.

Beauty decayed to rot.

Even the bones slowly turned to powder.

The beautiful woman’s face turned pale, nearly fainting.

Hong Feibai stood upright, his gaze hard as he looked at the man in front of him, his voice rough as he said:

"I just brought the junior sister back, to see you all one last time."

"And then to ask you one thing."

His voice paused, his palm gripping the longsword, unconsciously tightening his grip, but the sword did not leave its sheath, his tense body eventually relaxing, his eyes lowered, after a long silence, he spoke softly:

"Do you have any regrets?"

Outside Fengyue City, in a Charitable Estate.

An old man, over eighty years of age, reclined in a bamboo chair, his right hand resting on the back of the chair, tapping rhythmically as if humming a tune, while a young man dressed in a black vigorous attire, sweeping the yard with a broom, listened for a long while, and only caught two phrases.

He found it very displeasing.

"Beauty fades in a snap, a moment passes like a fleeting flower."

PS: Today’s first update…