Why do I have so many masters?

Li Qidao remained silent.

That was an answer in itself.

Wang Anfeng lifted his gaze.

With the stirrings of an approaching revelation in his heart, Wang Anfeng took a deep breath, forcing his voice to be calm as usual, and said,

"Does my father have enemies?"

"Are those enemies a threat to me and possess such immense power that even with your martial arts capabilities, Brother Li, you must hide with us here?"

"My father never practiced martial arts."

"So, are you saying the enemy comes from the Imperial Court? Or are you suggesting my father once had martial arts abilities but lost them for some reason?"

Wang Anfeng's voice was soft and his tone was even, not pressing for answers.

Yet in Li Qidao's heart, a troubled feeling began to grow, mixed with a strange sense of admiration, a sentiment too complex to be expressed in a few words.

He lifted his head, looking at the young man in a cyan robe sitting upright with dignity, as if he saw once again that unyielding Scholar from the past, especially those eyes that seemed dyed with twin pools of cold springs, almost identical.

But at this moment, he felt no nostalgia.

Having spent much time with that Scholar, he knew whatever he said now would be an answer to some extent. Speaking more would only lead to more mistakes, and lead to more deductions.

Wang Anfeng should not know too much right now.

Seeing this, Wang Anfeng slowly retracted his gaze, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and with the circulation of Buddhism's True Qi, the emotions inside him gradually returned to the usual calmness as he maintained his state of mind.

He was not yet qualified to know.

That's alright, he could wait.

Li Qidao ceased his drinking and watched the quiet Wang Anfeng.

Wang Anfeng's features more closely resembled his mother's, softer by a degree, but now, with his eyes closed, due to the emotional turmoil, he bit down unconsciously, making the lines of his face harder, and Li Qidao almost mistook him for that deceased Scholar as if he had come back to life.

Just then, Wang Anfeng suddenly opened his eyes, and the illusion vanished. Wang Anfeng paused, then said softly,

"I understand now. I won't get involved in too many things, Brother Li."

"So, I only have one question right now..."

"Brother Li, does White Tiger Hall have anything to do with my father's death?"

His eyes slightly widened as he stared intently at the elder before him.

As Li Qidao met Wang Anfeng's gaze, he slowly nodded and said,

"Your father had planned to make a move against White Tiger Hall, and White Tiger Hall had become aware of it."

He did not continue. Though there was a slight connection between White Tiger Hall and Wang Tiance's death, it wasn't a significant one. However, anything that could distract Wang Anfeng's attention was good. Having spent much time beside that Scholar, he also knew how to speak to mislead most effectively.

Wang Anfeng closed his eyes, and after a long while, he heaved a light sigh,

"I understand now."

"Brother Li, I won't overestimate myself."

This feast of wine, Li Qidao found to be less satisfying than usual.

After drinking, one's heart naturally opens up, leading to a freer expression of thoughts.

But as a top Martial Artist, he wouldn't speak of things he wanted to remain unsaid, even in a deep sleep, much less when only slightly tipsy.

Under the sunset, Li Qidao looked at Wang Anfeng cleaning up the leftovers, with a slight sigh in his heart.

Perhaps it was his subconscious belief that Wang Anfeng was now worthy of knowing these things—a Sixth Rank Martial Artist wasn't someone who could easily be dismissed, and moreover, what was the use of always staying under his father's protection?

He took a sip of wine and let his thoughts wander.

That Scholar wanted to thoroughly hide his child.

Yet some things should not be forgotten, especially not by certain people. When Wang Anfeng trembled with delight from the heroic tales of his youth he heard from Li Qidao, when those tales made his blood boil, keeping him awake through nights,

He deserved to know.

Back then, on the foreign Snowy Plains, Divine Martial Mansion had borrowed three thousand soldiers from the Snowy Plains Nation in three days and swiftly returned by night. In that moment, under the bright moon, the Great Qin Military Generals charged ahead of those foreign three thousand cavalry, swift as dragons.

It was chronicled in the history books of the other country—the borrowing of troops that led to the downfall of a nation.

The one leading at the forefront was the gaunt Scholar from Wang Anfeng's memory, yet magnificent at that time.

Li Qidao drank in silence, looking at Wang Anfeng's back, and said softly,

"Be careful in all things."

"Your father made many enemies back then. If you investigate White Tiger Hall, and dive deep, do not reveal your true identity or appearance, or it may bring disaster. Remember this."

Wang Anfeng nodded, replying in a low voice.

"You also be careful, Brother Li."

Li Qidao chuckled lowly, whether from sentiment or some other complex emotion.

Wang Anfeng, sensing something, looked back only to find that Li Qidao's figure was no longer in the yard, leaving only a faint scent of wine. Lightning flickered in the distant sky, quick as a flash, and then everything returned to the grey overcast as before.

Wang Anfeng stood still for a long while, his gaze falling low as he gathered his things and went back inside.

As always, he washed the dishes clean, swept the floor, and stood at the door of the inner room, yet hesitated, not entering as he usually would.

He just leaned against the wooden door frame, staring at the simple room in a trance.

As a child, he always thought the door was tall, but now, leaning on the frame, he couldn't fully straighten up without carelessly bumping his forehead against the not-so-high door frame.