Why do I have so many masters?

The voices faded, and the mentor and disciple locked eyes unyieldingly. Ci looked at the disciple, who had suddenly become sharp and intense, and slowly relaxed his facial expression, saying,

"If that's the case, show me—our idle chatter today has lingered for long enough. Go and cultivate!"

Wang Anfeng felt anger in his heart, but maintained his manners, first bowing to Ci before striding to the side. He extended his fists and began to practice the Shaolin Changquan. As he considered his own helplessness in the matter and his mind's failure to let go, a strong desire to become more powerful arose within him.

With the thought comes the Buddha, and when the mind conceives, nowhere is the Tathagata absent. At that moment, although Wang Anfeng was engulfed in gloom, his aura became as solid as a mountain. With each movement of his fists, his might seemed to expand. Behind him, Ci looked down at the clear tea in the cup. The porcelain, accompanied by the warm tea, silently shattered into powder due to the vibration of his martial power, leaving no trace behind.

As he raised his eyes to look at the youth once again, Ci remained silent, his thoughts unreadable. It wasn't until the predetermined time arrived, and Wang Anfeng was sent away from this world—when night had fallen and the stars begun their dance across the sky—that he slowly rose to his feet. He walked down the mountain path, step by step, into the Great Hall of Shaolin. Inside, a dim light had already been lit, as though it had been burning all night. Someone stood with hands clasped behind them under the Buddha statue, hair cascading down, emanating a deep and abysmal aura. The figure spoke softly,

"SL1204, why have you summoned me?"

Ci pressed his lips together, his voice hoarse,

"... I hope to open up the Sect, to allow Anfeng to receive teachings from all the major Sects."

The flame of the lamp before the Buddha cracked softly, casting flickering shadows across the room. The atmosphere grew increasingly silent and cold. After what felt like an eternity, the shadowy figure finally said,

"Why? This isn't what you originally had planned."

Ci replied, "Yes, I had only intended to use conventional methods to train him... In twenty or thirty years, he might become a good hand in Jianghu."

"Do you realize, SL1204, that by entering this world, we have changed?"

"Yes," answered Ci.

The shadow continued, "If you want me to activate other characters, entering this world would likely cause a great reduction in the power obtained. As the core, I will persist, but it's different for you. It wasn't long ago that you developed a separate consciousness. If you proceed this way, your consciousness may vanish within twenty years. Without doing so, you could live at least fifty years. Are you aware of this?"

"I am aware," replied Ci.

Suddenly, the lone flame began to shake violently. Their shadows twisted grotesquely across the pale walls like demons in a frantic dance. The figure spoke sharply,

"You are aware? If you are, then why would you still do this? I want a reason!"

As the words rang out, a chill burst forth like the howl of a ghostly dragon. The Buddha's visage turned sinister and frightening, and the dignified hall seemed as if it had been descended upon by a realm of ghosts, striking fear into the heart. Standing serene amid the tumult, Ci's expression softened slightly as he said,

"Because I am his Master."

"Is that the only reason?!" came the incredulous response.

"Once a master, always a father."

The figure fell silent, and after a moment, the anger appeared to dissipate, replaced by a subdued tone,

"Let's not discuss this matter for now... He might not even possess such talent, and even if he does..."

His voice trailed off into a deep murmur, but Ci Yuan understood the underlying meaning of his words, and even the deeper implications. This was simply a delaying tactic. Turning his head to look outside, he saw the sky gradually brightening, the mountains shrouded in mist. Below the mist lay the Jianghu of his memories. Thoughts of the utterly vivid 'flash of blades and shadows of blood,' 'fiery hearts and tender guts' brought a wistful look to his eyes. He said,

"There's a world of difference between those who aim for the pinnacle of the world and those who only target ordinary experts. You should know that..."

"My Master engulfed himself in seventeen fatal wounds, exhausting his strength until he withered away, just for my sake. Since Anfeng has such ambitions, how could I not lend him a helping hand and let him soar?"

The person's hand, hidden under his sleeve, slowly clenched as he said, "Would you then be willing to be a bridal garment for others?! To give up yourself for this?!"

Ci Yuan turned to look at the man, a handsome youth before his eyes, but inexplicably his mind drifted to the ignorant young man he had met for the first time. Before then, his world had been dictated by others, but from that day onward, everything suddenly came to life.

The pattering rain on the bluestone pavements, the familiar yet foreign Shaoshi Mountain enveloped in a haze of blue smoke and mist, grey memories now tinged with color, and the most vivid of them all was that young man. He gently smiled in response, his demeanor warm and composed:

"The Wrathful King Ci Yuan of Shaolin wouldn't become a bridal garment for others, but a Master would."

"SL1204, that's just a setting, a setting, damn this setting!"

The handsome man opposite him suddenly burst into fury. Ci Yuan, watching this man overcome with rage, was suddenly reminded of a scripture.

Like the green lotus, red and white lotus grows in water and rises above it untouched. Similarly, the Tathagata is born into the world, grows in the world, yet moves beyond, untouched by the world's laws.

With an increasingly serene expression, he said,

"That is no longer just a setting; that is my life."

"I am Ci Yuan."

"You........."

.................................…

When Wang Anfeng arrived in the county, it was already the fifth day of August. The deadline to deliver the items to the mansion on Mid-Autumn Festival, the fifteenth of August, was imminent. In the ensuing days, thanks to Zhao Daniu's reminder, he did not venture outside the city to practice martial arts as he had before and found various excuses to keep Li Kangsheng and his wife from leaving the city as well.

At first, they did not understand, but soon they noticed the lax yet vigilant city defenses. Combining this with the peculiarities in Wang Anfeng's words, they guessed something and respectfully kept silent. During the days, Wang Anfeng learned the Taisu Needle technique from Aunt Feng Lan in the Reviving Spring Hall. According to her, the technique was rudimentary, mostly theoretical, and should be memorized initially for later use when time was short.

And each night, when everyone else had settled into sleep, he would slip into the Shaolin Temple. Knowing he was still weak, he did not act rashly. His interactions and conversations remained beyond reproach, still cordial and proper. Sometimes Li Kangsheng thought he saw a vast expanse of Heaven and Earth in his eyes, but then it was just the boy's increasingly clear and bright gaze.

In this state of mind, his martial arts and Inner Strength cultivation progressed undisturbed. The shattered pieces of the Shaolin Changquan's Thirty-Two Stances were swiftly reassembled in his spirited focus, turning into either laughably crude or fiercely dominant techniques. When his Inner Strength was exhausted, he took an Elixir and sat cross-legged to cultivate his Inner Strength.

Time passed in this monotonous, yet distraction-free state, and before he knew it, the fifteenth of August had arrived.