Why do I have so many masters?

An Zhaofeng figured out the key points within but didn't care much, nor did he get up to leave immediately. When he threw out "Qiong Qi" earlier, he deliberately tossed it in a direction far from the secret location of Sword Forging Valley.

With "Qiong Qi's" speed, even if it ran day and night without stopping, it still wouldn't catch up. If not for gaining everyone's trust, he could have even bathed, changed clothes, and rested before hitting the road and still wouldn't be late.

Unfortunately, although this valley appeared quiet and had excellent scenery, it lacked wine, and there were no exceptionally beautiful women to raise a toast, making it quite dull.

Just then, his ears twitched as he caught a faint sound of footsteps. Resisting the urge to turn his head, he amplified his inner strength to stay alert, but no weaponry attack came. Instead, someone seemed to sit atop a large rock and started singing in a clear voice:

"At dusk, descending from the emerald hills, the mountain moon accompanies the return. Looking back on the path taken, the peaks stand like green crests. Together by the farmland, children open the bramble gate. Green bamboo enters the secluded path, lush vines brush against my clothes..."

The voice was soft and delicate, naturally unembellished, and surpassed the singing of brothel oiran girls. An Zhaofeng's killing intent dissipated as he looked up and saw that atop the mountain wall, there was a large slate extending outward. Moss grew like embroidery on it. Sitting there, one would be almost invisible from below.

Quickly realizing that someone else must have found this 'secret location' to practice singing daily, An Zhaofeng lowered his guard, allowing himself to better appreciate the heavenly voice.

Only then did he realize that the person was singing verses written by the Sword of Green Lotus from a century ago. The verses were complete, except for the last four lines, which created a sense of incompleteness every time, sticking unpleasantly in the mind.

Pretending to notice nothing strange, he suddenly laughed and said:

"Young lady, did you forget the last four lines?"

His profound inner strength allowed his voice to reach the top as if whispering beside someone's ear, and above, there came a faint sound of surprise. An Zhaofeng looked up only to find his heart stirred.

Above stood a girl no more than fifteen or sixteen, dressed plainly but strikingly pretty. She had a grandeur uncommon to ordinary people, yet remained gentle and warm. Her accent carried the soft tones of Jiangnan. Her singing was already delightful, but now seeing her in person, her voice seemed even more pleasing.

He smiled again and, with a mysterious inner power, gently lifted her down from several dozen feet above. Seeing her ordinary clothes, seemingly the daughter of a common family, he teased:

"Young lady, do you not know the last few lines, singing them repetitively but never fully enjoying them?"

The girl seemed startled, looked timidly at him, then lowered her gaze, saying:

"Not really, I do know the last few lines."

An Zhaofeng curiously asked, "Then why didn't you sing them?"

The girl shyly replied, "The last lines speak of a double toast with wine, and I don't like that mood. It doesn't have the sharp immortality of the Sword Immortal..."

An Zhaofeng was slightly stunned, then laughed heartily, "Never thought I'd randomly meet a girl with such insight and talent. Tell me, what kind of mood do you prefer?"

The girl gazed up at him, her eyes like a moonless night sky, quiet and profound, smiling with her lips:

"You would have to listen to it sung."

"Then sing it. If I like it, I'll give you gold and silver!"

An Zhaofeng casually waved, his attitude generous.

The girl pressed her lips, appearing pleased, and stepped forward two paces, widening the distance. An Zhaofeng saw her as if she were a lotus of Taihu Lake, standing elegantly, though her attire was too simple, seemingly picking her brother's clothes instead of light gauze skirts, obscuring her figure, which he slightly regretted.

Then, the girl adjusted her breath, began to sing with a clear and high voice, indeed carrying the spirit of Jianghu. An Zhaofeng enjoyed it, clapping his hands lightly, and his murderous intent vanished. He even thought of giving more silver to provide this talented girl with a good future.

"Ancient sword, dark and cold, forged through thousands of autumns."

"Its white light captures the sun and moon, purple aura spans the stars."

"A guest borrows it, loving it yet not daring to ask."

"Resplendent in a jade case, autumn waters still and clear."

An Zhaofeng applauded lightly, finding these verses full of vigor. The spiritual resonance within the poetry seemed to align with the Sword Forging Valley, evoking a sentiment of the natural marvels of Heaven and Earth. The essence of the verses suddenly changed at the final rhyme, becoming grand and expansive.

"May my private wish be granted, to sever the emperor's head!"

"The case within still reeks of blood, only for Jianghu's roam!"

Killing intent lingered, and the surroundings abruptly transformed. It felt like the slightest misstep would lead one into eternal Hell, chillingly cold. An Zhaofeng's pupils shrank sharply as he looked up.

The stone wall was still the stone wall, and the hanging vines showed no changes. The girl remained delicate and pretty. Only those black pupils lacked light, but a faint crimson hue spread within, like the sinking sun over the Great Desert.

Vigilance surged in An Zhaofeng's heart. He gathered the remaining Qi Mechanism and sprang up, retreating swiftly. Yet, he saw a sword glare faster than a Grandmaster's movement technique, or perhaps, whether he truly saw the sword glare, he couldn't distinguish as mind images filled with unwillingness gripped him before dying.

Within arm's reach, a person could rival a nation.

The sword glare swiftly retracted.

The girl watched An Zhaofeng, clutching his throat reluctantly. Blood gushed through his fingers as she smiled joyfully and stepped closer, whispering in his ear:

"She could only be killed by me. You laid hands on her, so you must die."

"And, I'm not some little girl."

The last sentence retained its heroic spirit, suppressing the softness brought by the Wunong accent, evidently spoken by a young man.

An Zhaofeng's pupils contracted, anger, and regret rising endlessly in his heart, tumbling through his mind. He agonized over whether not being lulled could have led to a different outcome had he acted directly?

More so, he found it unbelievable. Could there still be someone in the world able to assassinate a Commander of Troops like him at such a close distance?!

Yes, it was assassination.

Besides that, he no longer knew how else to describe that sword strike.

These thoughts churned without rest, yet became overshadowed by the martial artist's instinctive judgment. The conclusion was that regardless of heightened vigilance, at a span within one foot, he was nearly destined to die.

An Zhaofeng gave a bitter smile, unable to produce a sound. He had evaded countless attempts at open and covert attacks, fled from elite warrants and the pursuit of martial artists with Grandmaster's proficiency, only to fall in such a remote place, dying amidst two pieces of poetry.

How could he accept it?

How can one resign oneself?!

Dying with eyes unclosed...

The blood gushed faster, and An Zhaofeng's eyes gradually lost their gleam. Lastly, a faint trace of lingering thought emerged.

On this trip, he kept utmost secrecy; when had he ever killed any woman?

Recently, he only laid hands on that youth...

Even in conflict with that youth, he suffered losses without leaving a single scratch on him.

The final consciousness faded away. The youth took out a white silk from his bosom, gently wiping the blood from the short sword, stroke by stroke.

Then he slightly opened his fingers.

The white silk floated down, covering An Zhaofeng's face.

PS: Presenting the second update of the day...

This chapter is full length, 3,800 words...