Why do I have so many masters?-Chapter 240 - 139 Good and Evil (2/2)

Fufeng County City, Northern Desert Commercial Association Residence.

The drunken merchant, embracing a beautiful dancer in his arms, had long since fallen into a deep sleep within his room, while the martial artists hired by the association were each meditating in their own rooms. Most of them came from the desert bandits of the Great Desert. Although they were now in this prosperous foreign city, they hadn’t slackened in the least, acting as if they were still amidst the yellow sands of the desert, never leaving their swords behind.

The caravan’s helpers, carrying lanterns, wandered around the large house to keep watch at night.

Their martial arts were not very strong, knowing only some common moves. Walking back and forth on night watch, they were mainly there to guard against possible thieves and prevent the slaves from escaping.

Thieves were easy to deal with, but slaves who were caught trying to escape were more ferocious than hungry wolves in the Great Desert. Therefore, they were all armed with curved sabers. The sabers were not of good quality, but with the inherently strong physique of these foreign people, exerting all their might in hacking could still kill a grown man.

After making their rounds from the back courtyard to the front and back again, checking the storeroom and chatting with a brother there for a while, they reluctantly headed towards the direction of the side courtyard. Without getting close, they carelessly shone their lanterns inside the tent, seeing a dozen men lying scattered about, all with thick muscles and clearly strong.

These were all slaves of the master of the house, requiring no wages and little care. From the Great Desert grasslands all the way to Great Qin’s Fufeng, they performed menial labor on ordinary days. In the event of bandit encounters, each was given a broken sword to fight fiercely as soldiers. Behind them were always a few masters driving them on.

Even if gravely wounded, they did not have to be tended to, casually discarded on the road, left to live or die on their own. It was considered kind to quickly end their suffering with a blade.

However, many caravans were unwilling to do even that.

Blood would also damage the sharpness of their blades.

After all, maintaining the sharpness of a blade required silver coins, didn’t it?

When they set out, they took thirty slaves; by the time they arrived in Fufeng, nearly half had died. As the days approached September, it was about time to carry the silk, porcelain, and high-quality tea from Great Qin back to the Great Desert. By then, if three of the dozen men survived, it would be a blessing from the gods.

Such slaves, even if they were lucky enough to survive their first year in business, often collapsed on roads the following year with untreated wounds, essentially living only a year.

But these people of the Great Desert seemed to be accustomed to it, as the two caravan helpers showed not a hint of pity in their eyes. Enduring the chill of Fufeng’s deep autumn, they counted the number of people with their lanterns, confirmed the count, then turned and hurried away.

Having walked just a few steps, the slightly more robust helper suddenly uttered a low cry, slapped his forehead, and called out,

"Damn, I forgot about that kid."

The two initially wanted to leave directly, but thinking of the consequences if that kid escaped, they quickly changed course and hurried into the back courtyard. Underneath a dilapidated tent, they saw a thin body lying on its side, with horrifying scars still visible on the exposed back. They breathed a slight sigh of relief, tightened their clothing, and then turned to leave.

One of them murmured softly,

"This kid is really unlucky."

The slightly more robust man cursed under his breath and said,

"Unlucky nothing, this is the will of the gods. I heard the master brought this burden here because he knew about ’The Bright Moon of the Tuoba Family’ being here and planned to make a big score. Don’t know why it didn’t work out."

"Maybe that person didn’t take a fancy to this slave…"

"That’s true, look at how distressed he looks. I guess he won’t live much longer…"

Their low voices gradually faded away.

When the voices could no longer be heard, Hebuli finally allowed himself to relax. He turned over, lay flat on the damp, cold ground, and through the hole in the tent, stared at the stars and the moon. Gazing blankly for a while, he raised his hand and placed it over his heart.

Survive...

...

Wang Anfeng changed back into his original plain clothes and put his wooden sword back into its old scabbard. After bidding farewell to his masters, he returned to Fufeng Academy. It was already night, and inside the Wind Character Tower, there were likely very few people left, which meant it was time to sweep the stairs.

Meanwhile, at Shaolin Temple.

Hong Luoyu floated in the air as if weightless.

Among the top-notch masters of his time, his punching and kicking skills were just barely first-rate. In front of Ci En, he would lose his life after thirty or forty moves. His weapon skills weren’t worth mentioning, but his Qinggong was unparalleled—a marvel for the ages, unrivaled under the heavens.

His sinews and bones were naturally lighter than the average person by thirty percent. According to a senior, this was a blessing from the ancestors—there was no point in comparing, as the only other option would be to find a quiet place and hang oneself with a noodle.

With his exceptional natural talent, even if he practiced the most common Qinggong of the Jianghu, like Grasshopper Flying, he could still carve his path and, after joining the Divine Thieves Sect, he was like a fish in water. His cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds, and by the age of twenty-seven, his Qinggong had become perfect. By channeling his Inner Qi to harness the forces of Heaven and Earth, he could freely roam the skies, ride the wind, and travel to his heart’s content, almost reaching the realm of the Taoist’s carefree wandering.

Yet at this moment, he did not exhibit any of his unique traits.

His body faced upwards and head downwards, drifting lightly, a blade of grass between his lips, his brows deeply furrowed. After much thought, he finally sighed deeply and shook his head repeatedly, saying,

"Tsks, tsks, tsks, it won’t do, it won’t do..."

"This lad is only suited to be a straight and honorable hero who roams the Jianghu."

"A mysterious and unfathomable master hidden from the world, a puppet master pulling the strings from behind the stage—that style is simply too difficult for him..."

Wu Changqing raised his hand to stroke his beard, also letting out a sigh, saying,

"I also feel that it might be a bit too early for Anfeng to be involved with these matters..."

Having spent a lot of time with Wang Anfeng, he could tell from the boy’s minor actions that dealing with winning people over was not his strong suit.

Wu Changqing had seen a lot in his travels through Jianghu. Despite his gentle appearance, when he was younger and more impetuous, he had killed his fair share of people with his own hands—his victims had not all been wrongdoers. When you’re in Jianghu, before you lift a hand, can you really pause to judge whether someone is good or bad?

Only the sword can determine the outcome.

He had this experience, and naturally understood in his heart. Having control over the world of Shaolin, if one did not make use of it, it would truly be a waste. In the future, when on the Jianghu, this might lead to suffering losses.

But as much as he knew it, the thought of letting Wang Anfeng actually do such things was something he was reluctant to accept.

Seeing someone agree with him, Hong Luoyu showed a smug expression and floated behind Wu Changqing. He lifted his chin and said, his voice full of pride,

"Did you hear that, Mr. Ying? It’s no good for you to mess around like this."

"You should know, not everyone is willing to take on the vile role of the man behind the curtain. If you don’t believe me, ask the big monk over there if he’s willing. Although he has become much less interesting, everyone on the Jianghu knows he is a truly good person."

Upon hearing this, Wu Changqing opened his mouth and was at a loss whether to laugh or cry, already aware that this old thief’s usual quirks were showing up again.

Hong Luoyu had a close relationship with Mr. Ying and naturally knew of his identity. The latter, as a leader, often concealed himself behind the scenes and was precisely the sort of villain referred to by the Divine Thieves Sect.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he saw the scholar’s face suddenly turn stern. Amidst the clamor of Hong Luoyu’s voice by his ear, he couldn’t help but bitterly smile, yet simply had no energy to intervene, so he looked up towards Ci Yuan and said,

"Master Ci Yuan, please say a few words..."

I’m old, I really don’t have the strength to handle this anymore.

After calling out several times, the monk on the other side showed no response. Not knowing what he thought of, his usually tranquil face somehow seemed tense. Wu Changqing felt uneasy, even the two ’on the verge of battle’ noticed something was off and turned their heads to look towards the monk.

Ci Yuan came back to his senses at this moment, seemed momentarily perplexed, then chanted a Buddhist mantra in a low voice. He returned to his usual demeanor and said,

"...the Divine Thief exaggerated on purpose."

"Where are there so many distinctions between good and evil people?"

"What is considered good here might be regarded as evil there. In the duality of good and evil, lies the Jianghu."

His voice paused briefly, and then he asked with a smile,

"Besides, who says that those who hide in the shadows are certainly evildoers?"

Find your next adventure on novelbuddy

Hong Luoyu was momentarily at a loss for words, and his face showed he was a bit embarrassed. He muttered under his breath, "That’s not necessarily true, like you, this baldy, aren’t you well spoken of in the Jianghu?"

"Or take someone else, for instance... I don’t know how many are eager to kill him to feel joy afterward."

As he finished, Hong Luoyu suddenly noticed the scholar’s expression growing colder, and he shuddered involuntarily, lamenting inwardly that he was about to suffer again. He abruptly noticed a change in the atmosphere, obviously Wang Anfeng was preparing to come over. His eyes lit up, and he loudly called out,

"Hahaha, the disciple is on his way."

"Ying, this time I’ll let you off, old man is going to teach the disciple martial arts..."

With a peculiar cry, he shot forward at high speed.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is freewebnøvel.coɱ.

He crossed that spot at the same time Wang Anfeng appeared and took the young man away with him. In the blink of an eye, they were already nowhere to be seen.

Upon seeing this, Wu Changqing felt a chill in his heart. The speed at which Hong Luoyu had just moved was so fast that even he could only see an afterimage. With such Qinggong, if one were to specialize in assassination techniques, there would be no one able to escape throughout the vast world.

As this notion dawned on him, he felt a strange sense of relief. Fortunately, though Hong Luoyu was frivolous by nature, he was not a bloodthirsty madman. Otherwise, the Jianghu would be filled with even more blood and carnage.

The scholar watched the direction they’d gone with a cold sneer, his eyes filled with malice, while Ci Yuan returned to a seated position on the blue stone, seemingly entering a state of meditation as before.

Everyone in Jianghu knew that the Wrathful King was fierce in his hatred of evil and acted with integrity.

Yet, what automatically came to his mind was something someone else had said.

"To me, you are the greatest evil in this world."

His thoughts stirred like ripples on a lake’s surface.

Ci Yuan’s Vajra Indestructible Divine Skill had already broken through the Twelve Locks, continuously revolving. He held his Buddha Beads and recited scriptures, seeking tranquility of mind and to reach a state of no thought. However, memories surged in his mind like the words of Hong Luoyu had just chipped a hole, revealing unrelenting images like the ceaseless flow of water, unstoppable.

"You say you have come into the world to save all the evil ones..."

"The common people in the Jianghu have all set up Longevity Plaques for you. In their eyes, you are a great good person, a Buddhist follower, a hero."

"But you are actually a great evil."

The Buddha Beads in Ci Yuan’s hand turned faster and faster, his expression still calm, as he softly recited,

"All phenomena are like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow, like dew and a flash of lightning, thus should we view them."

The thread stringing the Buddha Beads snapped.

One hundred and eight small, round beads scattered across the ground.

Each bead representing a trouble, with each of the six senses having three types of feelings: pain, pleasure, and indifference, making eighteen kinds; and each sense having three conditions: good, bad, and neutral, making eighteen kinds, totaling thirty-six kinds. Combined with past, present, and future lives, these total one hundred and eight troubles that entangle the mind.

The body is like Vajra, seeking to understand the one hundred and eight worries, to cut off troubles and achieve purity.

He had always done well.

But at this moment, the troubles all surged forth at once.

Ci Yuan sat down heavily on the blue stone, his eyes slightly closed, exhaling a soft sigh.

That day in March, the peach blossoms were lush and vibrant.

Someone was watching him.

Dressed in red, with a jade pendant hanging from her waist.

"You have saved so many evil people, why won’t you spare me a glance."

"Why won’t you save me?"

The monk, as he had been that day, closed his eyes and softly recited the scriptures.

"All phenomena are mere illusions."

"Nothing but shadows."

His mental turmoil calmed once again, seemingly even more resilient. The devil serves as the grinder, without grinding, there is no Buddha.

The monk bent down, his expression still peaceful, and began to restring the Buddha Beads one by one.

What was stringing together the beads, was a red thread.

Bright as the peach blossoms in the March rain.

PS: First update