Why do I have so many masters?-Chapter 684 - 13 Wind and Thunder (Two in One)

Separated from the real world atop the emerald mountains, the Scholar and the young man stood a few steps apart.

In the distance, three individuals, almost identical in appearance, stared in this direction.

Luoyu felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach, his mouth twisted as he muttered,

"That Ying fellow, he can’t be serious, right? I mean, why does he look so earnest? Hey, hey, hey, he’s not really playing for real, is he? Choosing this moment to quit, could this guy be any more offbeat?"

"He can’t really be serious, can he?"

"That joke’s not funny at all, this isn’t real…"

"Quiet down a bit."

A calm and powerful hand landed on his shoulder. Luoyu’s face blanked for a moment, then his body suddenly sank, air currents swirling, the unintentional formidable strength from that hand smashed most of his body into the mountain rock.

Only his neck and head were still visible.

Luoyu’s face was completely blank as if he couldn’t believe what had happened to him. He slowly lowered his head, saw the ground so close to his face, and could even smell the faint stench of the soil.

His mouth twitched slightly as he looked up at the tall monk and cursed,

"You stinking bald donkey I f***"

"What are you doing?!"

With an instinctive glance, a look of surprise emerged on Ci’s face as he said,

"Luoyu, how did you end up buried in the ground?"

"You..."

Luoyu was almost too angry to breathe. Ci grabbed his collar and said, "Just calm down a bit, I’ll pull you out now."

Then, with a bit of effort like a farmer pulling up a radish, Ci yanked Luoyu out, his body still carrying bits of broken rock and soil.

Luoyu was grinding his teeth in fury, his face turning green, yet Ci appeared genuinely unaware, his eyes still fixed on the two people in the distance, his left hand hanging down with a Pure Bodhi Rosary in his palm, his thumb pinching a bead.

Having spent not a short amount of time with Ci, Luoyu noticed that this young, celebrated figure, once praised by Jianghu as "Unmoved by Eight Winds, Serenely Seated on the Lotus Platform," was rotating his rosary beads a full 30 percent faster than usual.

Wu Changqing gently stroked his white beard, hesitatingly said,

"Mr. Ying is probably just testing, isn’t he?"

"Just like usual, Luoyu, having spent so much time with Mr. Ying, you should know his nature. He’s quite troublesome, often doing the opposite of what he says. This time... it’s probably the same?"

"Once Wind senses any danger, he will undoubtedly intervene."

Luoyu sighed and muttered,

"It’s precisely because I know him well that I’m worried..."

Wu Changqing paused slightly, and behind them, the White-haired Taoist in a Taoist robe softly said, "It means he isn’t deliberately being difficult right now."

Wu Changqing instinctively turned to look.

The White-haired Taoist, who had stepped into the True Master realm, with his robe slightly fluttering, serene as an immortal, softly said,

"If it’s unclear like this, maybe it’s better to explain it this way."

"This isn’t the usual kind of amicable interaction between the mentor and junior."

"The person standing there now is the once leader of Jianghu, who drew Shaolin Wudang, Emei, Kunlun, and the seven sects of Jianghu together to discuss countermeasures."

Wu Changqing’s expression changed slightly, while Luoyu sighed deeply in frustration but remained silent. The Ancient Taoist calmly said,

"And the one standing there is not your disciple Wang Anfeng."

"That is the Mansion Master of Divine Martial Mansion."

"People in Jianghu and the common folk, mostly young, are not fearful of death’s maze because life and death are always separated by the presence of older generations and parents; they do not see death until their parents pass away, then they face the great fear of life, old age, sickness, and death."

"Like the vast Beiming, a solitary boat and a single leaf."

"The storms of Jianghu are the same, Anfeng is separated from Jianghu by you and me; he can never truly be a part of Jianghu."

"He can’t always depend on us."

Ci looked at the young man in the distance, his expression serene, merely uttered a Buddhist chant.

Luoyu grumbled,

"I know it, but is it necessary to push this hard?"

"Wouldn’t it be better to take it slowly?"

The Ancient Taoist smiled and said,

"He has always been this way."

"If he cares, he will stubbornly do what he thinks is necessary."

Wu Changqing sighed again and said, "Even though it’s not the first time I’ve met the mentor, his nature is indeed very stubborn."

The Ancient Taoist gazed into the distance.

The Scholar and the young man stood there, only four or five steps apart.

Both were clad in blue garments, yet the person in front had an elegant and casual demeanor, standing with his hands behind his back, his black hair casually draped over his shoulders, all poised and scholarly. The one behind carried a sword on his back, his hair bound with a wooden hairpin, the young man full of vigor.

The edges of their clothes fluttered gently.

In a fleeting moment, one might almost think they were seeing one person’s past and future simultaneously.

In Lower Jiangdong, the Ying family...

It seemed as though he could hear the clear voice of a young man.

The White-haired Taoist was lost in a momentary trance.

Luoyu grumbled twice, then suddenly said,

"Taoist, you seem quite familiar with that Ying fellow."

The Ancient Taoist came back to his senses, nodded with a smile and said,

"If it weren’t for his temperament, my sister wouldn’t have ultimately parted ways with him. Although my Wudang is a Taoist sect, since the time of our founder, we haven’t been overly concerned with sectarian views."

"My sister, being the Palace Master of Zixiao Palace and wielding the True Martial Sword, was dearly loved by the elders who are all top-notch in martial arts and Taoist practices. There was already a turning point in this matter."

"But in the end, it became such a deadlock precisely because of fate."

Luoyu nodded solemnly,

"That Ying fellow just hasn’t been beaten enough."

Above the gate of Shaolin Mountain, Wang Anfeng’s figure slowly disappeared from view, leaving only that figure in blue garments standing with hands behind his back, Luoyu cursing as he was about to rush forward, but was restrained by the Taoist’s Yin Yang Conversion.