Why do I have so many masters?-Chapter 558 - 197 First Rank Immortal Visitors (2/2) (3600 words)

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In Jing Feng City, among the four strongest powerholders, it was solely the Wu Family in the eastern part of the city that started as a merchant business. The majority of the local businesses were associated with them, and from the family head downward, they treated people gently, unlike the other powerful clans in the city that bullied others by flaunting their power.

Their attire was merely that of an ordinary wealthy family elder, but their familial wealth was truly exceptional, surpassing those pretentiously noble families. Their purses were considerably thicker, perfectly embodying the merchant principle of amassing wealth in silence.

Starting three years ago, they had also taken advantage of the opportunity when many other major clans were setting up foundations in Jing Feng City. They had business dealings with numerous noble clans and had acquired many famous paintings and calligraphic works that could not be bought with money on ordinary days.

The family head, Wu Junming, had nothing to do in his leisure time and enjoyed appreciating these works the most.

Among them, there was an authentic piece by the former calligraphy master, the Immortal Visitor, a long poem written while intoxicated, "Lushan Ballad Sent to Lu the Imperial Servant on His Fictitious Boat." Both its spirit and technique were of contemporary top quality, and Wu Junming was most fond of it.

Whenever he was alone in the quiet room, he would use his finger to trace in the air, meticulously contemplating the intention behind the strokes. Whenever he gained insight, he would beam with joy, and for several days, his face would be suffused with happiness. But who could have known that today, when he pushed the door open, unlocked the copper lock, he would not find the carefully preserved calligraphic work?

Wu Junming was stunned for quite some time but somehow managed to contain himself.

He calmly beckoned the steward to report the matter to the government office and sent people to another residence to find the family-supported guest martial artists, stating that there was an important matter to discuss.

Then he even lost interest in checking the accounts for the day.

He sat on a small sandalwood chair, drinking dry three superior pots of Jinchai Sparrow's Tongue tea.

This type of tea had a rich flavor; its tender buds would sink and float thrice in the cup when brewed, resembling a forest of bamboo shoots. He would normally relish it, yet today he could not calm his mind. Drinking the tea felt like drinking water, a waste of beauty akin to "cows chewing peonies," which he normally disdained, but today he himself was doing just that.

After finishing the third pot of tea, Wu Junming felt even more agitated.

His eyes were slightly reddened, his heart seemed to be bleeding, and he cursed the damned thief innumerable times.

He had just waved his hand to order another pot of tea to be brewed when the chief steward of the merchants burst into the yard without regard for propriety, his chubby face almost on the verge of tears.

It was only after Wu Junming gestured for the servants to leave that the chief steward burst into tears, claiming that there was a disaster at the merchant's main warehouse last night, it had been completely ransacked.

Items displayed out front to deceive customers remained untouched.

But those securely hidden in concealed compartments and boxes, not a single one was left behind.

Included was a specifically requested piece of superior rank jade marrow, brimming with spiritual charm, sufficient for nurturing divine weapons, and also ideal for forging top-quality swords and other weaponry.

A surge of anger welled up in Wu Junming, his complexion turned crimson, and he slapped the table forcefully, shouting angrily:

"What kind of job did you do?! Huh!"

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? If you can't handle this matter well, my entire Wu family will be ruined, and even your life will be in jeopardy, don't you realize that?!"

"Your subordinate deserves to die a thousand deaths!"

The honest-looking chief steward knelt on the ground, his head knocking on the floor like pounding garlic, each piece of his fatty flesh trembling, clearly terrified by the potential consequences.

Wu Junming snorted coldly and swept his sleeve aside, refusing to look at him.

It was only when a servant waiting outside came in to report that several guest martial artists had arrived and were now waiting in the side hall, asking whether to meet them now, that Wu Junming forced himself to suppress his emotions.

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He glanced at the teacup in his hand, worth a hundred taels of silver, but refrained from smashing it to release his anger. Instead, he fiercely kicked the fat steward once more, sending him stumbling to the ground before he flounced off with wide strides.

With a grimace, the steward dared not delay, he quickly got up and jogged to follow behind.

Three martial artists were already waiting in the side hall.

Their aura was somewhat chilly.

As the saying goes, cutting off a person's wealth is akin to killing their parents. Everyone loves money, and for the Wu Family to possess such a substantial purse, they surely didn't rely solely on pleasant smiles and good relations. Those who venture out to seek fortunes aren't running charity houses; without true capabilities, how could they amass such an extensive estate?

Guest martial artists nurtured by the family head for generations had greatly aided in expanding the Wu Family's business operations over the years. Of the three major merchants two decades ago, only the Wu Family remained intact.

As for the other two, they faced one misfortune after another.

One family had met with an abrupt end to their line, with their daughter kidnapped, violated, and left to die in the wilderness. By the time she was found, the girl—once celebrated for her beauty and intellect, and who had written three exquisite quatrains about Chinese crabapple flowers—was already dead in the wilderness.

Her clothes disheveled, her delicate eyes wide open, but they had lost their spark.

The perpetrator was shrewd, leaving no trace behind, turning the case into an unsolved mystery.

The grief was too much for the family head of the time; he fell ill and never recovered. The collapse of their household led to dispersal like scrambling monkeys when a tree falls, which allowed the Wu Family to reap considerable advantages. They jumped to become the largest merchant in the city and gradually hold their own against the other two aristocratic families—it must be said, it was both their time and fate.

Wu Junming entered the room, and the three martial artists stood up to salute him.

He nodded slightly to indicate that elaborate courtesies were unnecessary, his gaze swept the room, and his brows knitted together as he asked with a frown, "Why isn't Zhong Jinpeng here?"

Zhong Jinpeng was the most skilled in martial arts among the guest martial artists of the Wu Family and also known for being the most ferocious. The three martial artists exchanged a look, and one of the middle-aged men shook his head and said,

"We do not know."

"He has not been seen since last night, and we have no idea where he could be."

Wu Junming barely suppressed his anger, which was now showing signs of flaring up again. He took a deep breath, his face regained composure, but his dissatisfaction with the increasingly intractable Zhong Jinpeng deepened.

The middle-aged man who had spoken earlier sensed a trace of chill.

The frigid air was fleeting; Wu Junming waved his hand dismissively, the portly steward who'd been kicked earlier closed the door, and the maids previously serving there were all sent out. Then, quite obediently, he stood behind Wu Junming, hands at his sides, silent.

Wu Junming walked back and forth with his hands behind his back, moving from the center of the room to the seat of honor, pondering how to begin.

The three competent martial artists quietly watched their family head.

After pacing a bit, Wu Junming's brows relaxed, and his gaze swept over the faces of the martial artists below. Having made up his mind, he started speaking slowly, "I've called you here today because there's a matter of great importance to discuss, and I hope that everyone..."

A knocking sound came from outside the door, rather loud, interrupting the emotional momentum Wu Junming had been building. He frowned slightly, went quiet, and did not continue.

The steward, very observant, didn't wait for Wu Junming to speak and walked towards the door. His fat cheeks pressed together, and his normally honest and simple face now seemed fierce and menacing because of his anger.

He had just placed his hand on the door, not even speaking yet, when it seemed the person outside was already impatient, striking the wooden door one last heavy blow.

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With a bang, the door swayed for a moment before collapsing inward with a heavy fall. Over the years, the Wu family's prosperity meant that even the wood of their doors was unlikely to be substandard—it was top-notch aged Huanghuali, very heavy indeed.

The unsuspecting steward was crushed beneath it, letting out a scream of agony.

A black government-issue boot stepped firmly atop the door, silencing the steward's screams as it pressed down. The boot's owner, clad in vermilion vigorous attire, a saber slung at his waist, strode into the Wu estate across the fallen door, moving ahead with unhurried steps.

Wu Junming's face went pale as he hastened forward, hands clasped in greeting, forcing a smile:

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"Chief Arrestor Zhao, what brings you to my humble abode?"

"Had you given me notice, I could have made preparations."

"Preparations? Ha, I fear I dare not partake in the 'hospitality' offered by shopkeeper Wu," the Chief Arrestor replied, his smile not reaching his eyes as he looked at Wu Junming.

Feeling a pang of dread, Wu Junming replied with a strained smile: "Surely you jest, Chief Arrestor."

"Jest? In the past, I might have exchanged jokes with you, but today I am hardly in the mood for such pleasantries," said the Chief Arrestor his mood clearly sour, waving his hand as two government officials brought forth a burly man, looming before them.

With just one glance, Wu Junming felt his heart sink.

The man was none other than Zhong Jinpeng.

But now, gone was the ferociousness and brutality once associated with him. A look of pure terror washed over his face, his eyes lifeless. Normally standing nine feet tall, he now required the support of two men to stand shakily.

Wu Junming averted his gaze, attempting another weak smile:

"Chief Arrestor, I don't understand your intentions?"

The Chief Arrestor in vermilion laughed coldly, pulling out a stack of letters and throwing them in Wu Junming's face. "Take a look for yourself, what are these? Do you still think to deceive me and the others?" he sneered.

"The case of the rape and murder of Old Master Sun's granddaughter can finally be closed. The Sun family supported your Wu family, only to be repaid with this end. Now, he can rest in peace beneath the nine springs."

Wu Junming's eyes fell on the letters, his face turning ashen.

Those were the secret correspondences between him and Zhong Jinpeng from years past, meant to keep Zhong in check, kept extremely well-hidden, but how had they ended up in the government's hands overnight without a single one missing?

The Chief Arrestor gestured, and the officials were already rushing forward.

The murderous Zhong Jinpeng, now without support, slumped onto the ground, drooling from his mouth, seemingly terrified into idiocy. Even if he were to live, he might only compete with beggars and stray dogs for food—a fate worse than death.

The officials unsheathed their sabers and took away the ashen-faced head of the Wu family, attracting the gaze of passersby who wondered what the affable Mr. Wu might have done to deserve this.

The Chief Arrestor in vermilion yawned subtly to himself.

Last night, Zhong Jinpeng, numbed with terror along with a heap of cases, had mysteriously appeared at his doorstep. The government office was a place of tight security, and despite the checks of dozens of men for half the night, not a trace was found; even the county magistrate was terrified.

It was unclear who was responsible.

Outside Jing Feng City, in the Cang Mountain cemetery, two officials sent to check for any abnormalities or clues at the grave of the raped girl stood motionless.

It was early spring and the Northern Lands of the Great Qin were desolate.

But in front of an old grave bloomed fiery begonias.

Immortal Visitors.

The east wind gently bore its soft light, misty vapors shrouded the moon as it passed the gallery.

Fearing the flowers might sleep too soon, they lit tall candles to keep the rouge bright.

How long it had been, no one knew, when one official finally snapped out of it, murmuring, "Miss Sun from back then... she loved begonias the most, didn't she..."

"It's a pity that before her death, she wasn't able to see the Immortal Visitors she had grown for so many years..."

The other official didn't speak, simply nodding silently.

His eyes remained fixed on the fiery bouquet blooming before him.

In the inn, Hong Luoyu leaned against the windowsill, placing his right leg on top of it. Clothes draping, he folded his arms behind his head, casually yawning as he admired the view outside, his demeanor becoming ever more languid and carefree.

Wang Anfeng opened his eyes and sighed:

"Third Master, did you not sleep well last night?"

"Shall we return to Shaolin tonight..."

Hong Luoyu's gaze drifted in from the scenery outside the window.

Wang Anfeng noticed his usually unserious Third Master's lips curling into a gentle smile and blinked in surprise. But then, just as quickly, Hong Luoyu's smile vanished, and he shook his head wildly, almost theatrically, exclaiming:

"Return? Why on earth would we return?"

"You little rascal, are you trying to poison your master!"

Spryly leaping from the windowsill to the ground, Hong Luoyu reached the table by the time he uttered 'poison,' giving Wang Anfeng a knock on the forehead that resonated soundly. Then, hands clasped behind his back, he strolled out, speaking lazily:

"I'll grab something to eat, you keep practicing... no rush."

Upon reaching the door, he coughed once.

As the door opened, he regained the full deportment of a Grandmaster.

PS: Offering up the second update for today, 3600 words... It's a bit late, apologies for that (clasps hands). Thank you very much for the reward from 'Light Inks Through the Years'

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