Why do I have so many masters?

Wu Qiong shook his head, bowed deeply to everyone, then let out a hearty laugh and said, "Scholars are called pedantic fools, but what the world never lacks is spirited scholars."

"To die is to die; before dying, I shall have a satisfying rant right in front of Zhang Zuosheng."

Leaping onto his horse, he followed closely behind.

All the way, whipping his horse to keep up with Jiang Lan, as the wind accompanied them, the route back to One-Leaf Pavilion which he had traversed countless times had never before been so dangerous, nor had it ever felt so urgent—his heart beat rapidly, somehow imbued with the bold spirit of a lone rider in the Great Desert, his chest feeling ever more expansive.

After covering several miles, he noticed the girl's shoulders trembling slightly. Sensing that something was amiss, he raced forward to catch up and, turning back, saw Jiang Lan's face already streaming with tears. The girl looked up at Wu Qiong and smiled, saying:

"Like this, he should think of me as an incurable, resentful woman, right? He's always been prejudiced against what happened before."

"This way, he can let go of the playful matters from our youth and find a woman who shares his ideals to stay by his side. Maybe when he talks about me afterward, he won't feel any regret in his heart, right?"

"Or perhaps he'll never think of me again."

"I've often thought of the day I would marry him; even while studying, I would think of it and laugh, yet I never imagined that my last impression in his eyes would be like this..."

Tears uncontrollably streamed down.

Wu Qiong felt a pang of pain in his heart but didn't know how to comfort her.

The girl had always been calm and composed at all times, the likable and praiseworthy junior in the eyes of all the elders, yet she had never cried or laughed like this before. Perhaps, when death is near, people show the sides of themselves they've always concealed.

In this vast world, across the distant Jianghu, besides from death itself, only a great drunkenness could accomplish such a feat.

The girl, whose upbringing had been strict in manners and etiquette, had never shown such great emotional turmoil in front of anyone, now carelessly wiped away the tears on her face with her sleeve, sniffled, and murmured:

"I should have relied on the power of the Xiahou Family. When he takes the position of the Family Head of the Xiahou Family, I would be among the top-ranked individuals in Jianghu. Then, I would be able to use the Xiahou Family to strike back at One-Leaf Pavilion."

"Even with the prestige of the Xiahou Family, it might be possible to come out of this unscathed."

"But I like him..."

"I just wish for him to be well."

Wu Qiong was silent, genuinely at a loss for how to offer consolation. They had intentionally travelled from the south, taking a big detour, then turning back north towards the sect's gates, hoping by riding fast they might reach the destination before Jiang Yang ascended the mountain.

After about half an hour, Wu Qiong saw the mountain range becoming clearer in the distance, reined in his horse, and spoke softly:

"We're about to arrive."

"Hmm."

Jiang Lan had wiped away the tears from her face, her expression regaining its usual poise and composure, and even more resolute than before, after having cried. Her eyes widened slightly as she scanned the trail for that familiar silhouette, yet she never saw it.

Suddenly Wu Qiong exclaimed, "He's really there!"

Jiang Lan's heart stirred, and following the direction Wu Qiong pointed, indeed she saw a figure on the road wearing a long robe in dull gray, not particularly tall, and walking slowly but with deliberate and heavy steps.

It was as if he embodied the spirit of 'though tens of thousands are against me, I will go on.'

Jiang Lan's expression changed, and she called out "Father," as the relentless figure—as if pulled by an invisible string—halted, turned his head, and looked in Jiang Lan's direction.

It was a somewhat stern-looking Scholar, with a pair of dark brows, a calm demeanor in his eyes; however, no longer as clear as before. On ordinary people, this would signify a severe loss of vital energy, but for a Grandmaster Level martial artist who could open the Heavenly Sect, it was the best evidence of a depleted Qi Mechanism.

Jiang Lan's nose tingled with sorrow as she rushed to the Scholar's side and clutched at his sleeve, barely managing to utter "Father" before she found herself speechless. The Scholar first nodded slightly towards Wu Qiong, who had stopped his horse, then stretched out his hand, gently patting Jiang Lan on the head as he always had, soothingly saying:

"How did you get here? And in such a state, what has become of you?"

Jiang Lan didn't speak.

Jiang Yang seemed to understand something as he gazed at Wu Qiong. The old man, who acted in a rather old-fashioned manner, laughed out loud and said:

"Looking at the Pavilion Master's demeanor, all freshened up and properly attired with fragrant orchids, it seems he is ready to ascend the mountain and debate with Zhang Zuosheng. Though lacking in talents myself, I am willing to accompany him."

Jiang Yang smiled and nodded:

"Indeed."

Wu Qiong straightened the bamboo hat on his head, already prepared to die in this place today. If Zhang Zuosheng had gained such great fame in the world, surely he was no ordinary opponent. The Shao Yu Sword in his hand might not be a Divine Weapon but wasn't far from it. Although those bold and generous men claimed to be valiant, which of them could really do such a thing?

They were nothing but contemptible fellows.

Yet Jiang Yang did not move; instead, he looked in the direction from which they had come and said, "We have one more distinguished guest yet to arrive. Let us wait a moment."

Wu Qiong was momentarily stunned, but then he understood and burst into laughter. The heartache and frustration that had filled him a moment before suddenly dissipated. Jiang Lan's eyes widened, involuntarily turning towards that direction.

Before long, the sound of horse hooves thundered like a storm, charging their way. The lead man, though dressed in plain cloth garments, carried himself with an air that did not lack in intensity, a trace of ferocity lurking in his eyes and the scent of blood on him. Wu Qiong focused and realized these men had charged straight through the ambush on the main road, and he couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement.