Chapter 42: Genius
More and more unfamiliar faces from out of town were appearing in the small town, and the taverns and inns were thriving as a result.
At the same time, in the areas of Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Lane, many young descendants of prominent families began to quietly leave the town. Most were precocious and intelligent youths who had blossomed early, but there were also unknown sons of concubines, or loyal household servants. Zhao Yao, the scion of a noble clan, was among them. As for the child Gu Can from Mud Vase Alley, he was an exception because the River-Cutting True Lord Liu Zhimao had taken a liking to him at first sight.
Chen Ping'an went to Liu Xianyang's house to pick up a bamboo basket and a fish trap, then left the town for the creek. When there were many people around, Chen Ping'an naturally wouldn't practice the walking stakes exercise from the *Mountain-Shattering Manual*. Once he was out of town and no one was around, he began to silently recite the mental formula, recalling Miss Ning's steps, posture, and momentum during her walking stakes practice. He didn't want to miss a single detail as he repeated those six steps over and over.
Back when Chen Ping'an had first imitated Ning Yao in the Mud Vase Alley house, his movements had been so clumsy and ridiculous that he was even worse than an ordinary person. In truth, there had been a strange misunderstanding in the young boy's and girl's perceptions. Chen Ping'an had always known he had a problem—ever since he started working as a kiln worker, he realized his eyes were sharp, but his hands were slow. More precisely, because his eyesight and observation were too outstanding, his hands and feet simply couldn't keep up. This meant that if anyone else had tried to imitate Ning Yao's walking stakes, they might have achieved three or four points of similarity on the first try—rough and awkward, but at least not as bad as Chen Ping'an's one or two points. The reason was precisely because Chen Ping'an saw everything too clearly and was too demanding in every detail, leading to overcorrection. When his hands and feet couldn't keep up, it looked especially laughable. Moreover, beneath the ninety percent dissimilarity, there lurked a precious ten percent of spiritual resemblance.
Ning Yao didn't know this. When imitating the walking stakes of her, a natural-born swordsman prodigy, even ninety percent in form was inferior to that one percent in spirit.
Of course, to be fair, even if someone had her full spiritual resemblance or even seventy or eighty percent, Ning Yao wouldn't find it exceptionally brilliant.
In Ning Yao's eyes, her gaze was fixed only on the desolate peaks of martial arts and the sparsely populated summit of the sword path, where she stood shoulder to shoulder with only a handful of people.
Chen Ping'an sat on the steps beneath the plaque of the covered bridge to rest. He roughly calculated: there were twelve two-hour periods in a day. Even if he persisted for five or six of those periods each day, repeatedly practicing the walking stakes, at best he could do it about three hundred times. Ten thousand times a year, and it would take ten years to complete the task of one million times. The straw-sandaled boy turned to look at the crystal-clear creek water and murmured, "Can I hold on for ten years? I should be able to, right?"
Although Chen Ping'an had never shown any unusual emotions during this period, the revelation of heavenly secrets by Daoist Lu before his departure—exposing Cai Jinjian's sinister methods from Cloud Mist Mountain—still weighed heavily on the boy. There was one thing Chen Ping'an had never mentioned to either Daoist Lu or Miss Ning. That was, when Cai Jinjian had poked his brow and struck his heart, in Mud Vase Alley, he had already faintly sensed something wrong with his body. That was why he had lingered at his courtyard gate for so long, steeling himself to make a decision: if everything fell apart, he would fight Cai Jinjian to the death.
After all, back then, according to the young Daoist Lu Chen, Chen Ping'an was simply too devoid of vitality. He didn't look like a boy who should have been full of youthful vigor. Chen Ping'an treated life and death much more lightly than most people.
Cai Jinjian had "guided" him with martial arts methods, forcibly awakening his senses. This made Chen Ping'an's body like a house without doors or gates—it could indeed admit and absorb more things, but whenever wind, snow, or rain came, the house would collapse all the more severely and quickly. That was why Lu Chen had declared that, barring major illness or disaster, Chen Ping'an would only live to be thirty or forty years old.
Then, when she struck his heart, she ruined his foundation for cultivation. The heart is the critical stronghold for a cultivator. With the city gates collapsed, Cai Jinjian had essentially sealed off the normal function of this pass. This not only cut off Chen Ping'an's path to cultivation but also accelerated the decay of his body.
The truly terrible thing about Cai Jinjian's two moves was that after the gates were thrown wide open, on one hand, Chen Ping'an could no longer cultivate methods of longevity, meaning he couldn't use techniques or divine powers to mend the gates or consolidate his foundation. On the other hand, even if the boy were lucky enough to make some progress in martial arts and strengthen his body through tempering, enormous risks would accompany the opportunities. One misstep, and he would fall into the vicious cycle of "practicing external martial arts easily attracts evil spirits," leading not to longevity but to an early death.
The urgent task for Chen Ping'an was to find a martial art that could nourish his vital energy bit by bit, like a steady stream. It didn't matter whether this martial art had fierce and overbearing moves or could advance his martial realm by leaps and bounds.
All of Chen Ping'an's hopes rested in that *Mountain-Shattering Manual* that Ning Yao had looked down upon. For instance, she had mentioned that after walking stakes came standing stakes called "Sword Furnace" and sleeping stakes called "Thousand Autumns."
But Chen Ping'an didn't dare practice recklessly. He had only glanced at a few lines before forcing himself not to look further. He felt he should let Miss Ning examine it first to confirm it was safe before starting to practice.
As long as you're on the right path, even if your comprehension is poor, as long as you're diligent and persistent, you'll make progress every day. If you're on the wrong path, the smarter and harder you work, the more mistakes you'll make.
These were words spoken by Liu Xianyang. Of course, his emphasis was on the last sentence: "You, Chen Ping'an, are the first kind of person. That clever ghost Song Xiaofu Zi is the second. Only I, Liu Xianyang, am a true genius—smart and on the right path."
When Liu Xianyang had boasted about himself that day, Old Man Yao happened to pass by and overheard him. The old man, who had always favored Liu Xianyang and considered him a proud disciple, didn't know which words had touched a sore spot. Old Man Yao flew into a rare rage and chased Liu Xianyang with a beating. After that, Liu Xianyang never again uttered the word "genius."
Chen Ping'an let out a heavy breath, stood up, and walked up the high steps. When he entered the covered bridge corridor, he found a group of people gathered in the distance. There were four or five of them, some standing, some leaning, as if guarding a woman. Chen Ping'an only saw her profile. She sat on the railing of the bridge, her feet dangling naturally over the creek water, her eyes closed as if in meditation. The fingers of her hands were arranged in peculiar postures, some intertwined, some bent.
It gave Chen Ping'an the feeling that, although her eyes were closed, she seemed to be looking at something with her mind.
Chen Ping'an hesitated for a moment, then decided not to go any further. He turned and walked down the steps, intending to wade across the creek to find Liu Xianyang. Today, he carried two bamboo baskets, one large and one small nested together. He planned to return the smaller basket to Master Ruan's blacksmith shop, since Liu Xianyang had borrowed it.
At the far end of the covered bridge, the group noticed the shabbily dressed straw-sandaled boy turn around sensibly. They exchanged glances and smiles but said nothing, afraid of breaking the mysterious "water contemplation" state of that woman of the same generation.
The origin of this method was undeniably Buddhist. However, it had been adopted, selected, integrated, and refined by many cultivation sects, eventually branching into many sub-methods along a single path.
But the Eastern Treasured Vase Continent had long been regarded as a land where Buddhist teachings were in decline. After several calamities that wiped out Buddhism across half the continent, the Buddhist Dharma had been waning for nearly a thousand years, far less influential than Confucianism and Daoism among the three teachings.
"Only True Lords and Heavenly Masters are known; no Protectors or Great Virtuous Ones are heard"—this was the current reality in the Eastern Treasured Vase Continent.
Yet countless immortal clans had benefited from Buddhist teachings.
Chen Ping'an rolled up his pant legs and waded across the creek. Once on the other side, he heard shouts of alarm and angry reprimands coming from the covered bridge. He thought for a moment, then decided not to get involved.
When he reached Master Ruan's blacksmith shop, it was still bustling with activity. Chen Ping'an didn't wander around. He stood by a well and asked someone to notify Liu Xianyang.
He had expected to wait a long time, but surprisingly, Liu Xianyang soon came running. Grabbing Chen Ping'an, he pulled him toward the creek bank and said in a low voice, "I've been waiting for you forever! Why are you so late?"
Chen Ping'an asked in confusion, "Did Master Ruan urge you to return the basket?"
The tall boy rolled his eyes. "What's a broken basket worth? I have something important to tell you. After you finish picking stones and return to my house, just wait for that lady to come find you—the one whose son wears bright red clothes. We saw that mother and son at the entrance of Mud Vase Alley last time. When she comes, don't say anything. Just hand over that big chest to her. She'll give you a bag of coins. Count them on the spot—twenty-five copper coins, not one less!"
Chen Ping'an was shocked. "Liu Xianyang, have you lost your mind?! Why are you selling family heirlooms to outsiders?!"
Liu Xianyang wrapped his arm tightly around the straw-sandaled boy's neck and glared at him, lecturing, "What do you know? A great future is right in front of me—why would I miss it?"
Chen Ping'an looked skeptical, unwilling to believe this was Liu Xianyang's true intention.
Liu Xianyang sighed and said quietly, "That lady wants to buy my family's ancestral armor. And that other pair, the master and servant, want a sword manual. My grandfather told me before he died that when there's no other choice, I can sell the armor—but not cheaply. As for that sword manual, even if I die, I must never admit it exists in our Liu family. I agreed to sell the armor to that lady. Besides settling on a price, I also made her promise one condition: after she gets the armor, she must persuade that burly old man to leave me alone for a while, just stall him. Once I become Master Ruan's apprentice, everything will be fine."
Chen Ping'an asked directly, "Why didn't you just stall the lady? Could she come to the blacksmith shop to cause trouble for you? Besides, she can't break into your house and take the armor by force."
Liu Xianyang let go of him, crouched by the creek, picked up a pebble, and tossed it into the water. "Anyway, the armor isn't something I can't sell. Now that there's a fair price, it's not bad. It also makes things more secure—maybe Miss Ning won't even have to take risks. I think it's fine."
Chen Ping'an crouched down too, speaking urgently, "How do you know the price she's offering now is fair? What if you regret it later?"
The tall boy turned his head and grinned. "Regret? Think about it—we've known each other for so many years. When has Liu Xianyang ever done something he regretted?"
Chen Ping'an scratched his head. He felt something was off, but he was too inarticulate to convince Liu Xianyang.
Liu Xianyang had always lived freely, and it seemed no obstacle had ever truly defeated him. He had never met a knot he couldn't untie or a task he couldn't accomplish.
Liu Xianyang stood up and kicked the basket on the straw-sandaled boy's back. "Hurry up, I'm going to return this to Master Ruan. After I officially become his apprentice and offer tea, you can come and see the ceremony."
Chen Ping'an slowly stood up, wanting to say something but holding back. Liu Xianyang laughed and scolded, "Chen Ping'an, are you worried I'm selling *your* heirloom? Or your wife?"
As Chen Ping'an handed him the basket, he asked tentatively, "Think about it again?"
Liu Xianyang took the basket, stepped back a few paces, and suddenly leaped high into the air, performing a flashy spinning kick.
After landing steadily, he grinned smugly. "Impressive, huh? Scared?"
Chen Ping'an replied irritably, "Screw you."
After leaving the Ruan shop, Chen Ping'an, burdened with worries, went into the water to pick stones. Perhaps because he was distracted, or maybe the creek water had receded, he didn't have much luck today. By the time he neared the covered bridge, he had only collected a little over twenty serpentine stones, and none of them were particularly eye-catching or love-at-first-sight material.
Chen Ping'an took off his basket and fish trap, placing them in the grass by the creek. He took a deep breath, turned around in the water, and began practicing the walking stakes.
After one round trip, Chen Ping'an's heart tightened. He saw a short boy crouching where he had hidden his basket and fish trap, chewing on a green stalk of dog's-tail grass.
It was Ma Ku Xuan, the grandson of Granny Ma from Apricot Flower Lane. He had been treated as a fool since childhood. Moreover, in the minds of Chen Ping'an's generation, Granny Ma had a terrible reputation—stingy and harsh—which made her precious grandson a target for bullying. Every time the boy went out, he would be chased and tormented by other children. Whenever he wore new clothes or new boots, within half an hour, he would inevitably be kicked and stomped on by a dozen or so peers or older children, leaving him covered in dirt. Imagine a pair of brand-new boots Granny Ma had just bought from the shop; after her grandson wore them out and had them trampled by a dozen pairs of feet, how new could they still be?
This boy, whose real name, Ma Ku Xuan, was long forgotten, had always been strange. He was bullied but never complained to Granny Ma, never wailed or begged for mercy. He always wore a calm expression and indifferent eyes. That was why the children in Apricot Flower Lane didn't like playing with this little fool. Ma Ku Xuan learned early to entertain himself, spending most of his time watching clouds on slopes or rooftops.
Chen Ping'an had never bullied Ma Ku Xuan, nor had he ever pitied this peer. He had never thought that two kindred spirits might try to huddle together for warmth.
Because Chen Ping'an always felt that Ma Ku Xuan wasn't stupid at all; rather, he was like Song Jixin in his bones, perhaps even more so.
They seemed never to speak, but they always seemed to be waiting, silently telling others: Heaven owes me many things, and one day I will take them all back. If Heaven owes Song Jixin a copper coin, Song Jixin would demand a tael of silver in return. Ma Ku Xuan might even demand a tael of gold!
Chen Ping'an didn't think they were wrong; he just didn't like it himself.
The boy, no longer the fool he once was, spoke clearly and asked with a smile, "You're Chen Ping'an from Mud Vase Alley, right? You live next to Zhi Gui?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Something on your mind?"
The boy smiled and pointed at Chen Ping'an's basket. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but the creek water has dropped a lot. The only good stones left are in the deep pool under the covered bridge and the water pit at Green Ox Ridge. Other places are no good. Like the ones in your basket—they can't retain that qi. Their quality will quickly deteriorate. With some luck, they might become decent whetstones, or some might become inkstones for scholars. They're still good things, and you can sell them for a high price, but... forget it, I don't think you'd understand."
Chen Ping'an chuckled and said "mm," without adding anything.
The short boy suddenly said, "You were practicing martial arts in the creek just now?"
Chen Ping'an still didn't respond.
Ma Ku Xuan's eyes sparkled as he laughed heartily. "So you're not stupid either. Yeah, you're like me—same kind of person."
Chen Ping'an walked around the boy and said, "I'm going now." Then he picked up his basket and went ashore.
The boy crouched in the distance, spat out the chewed dog's-tail grass, and shook his head slightly. "Your stance is no good, and there are too many flaws. No matter how much you practice, you won't make anything of it."
Ma Ku Xuan didn't turn his head. "Did you retrieve our military clan's token?"
A man behind him laughed. "Remember to call me Master from now on."
The boy didn't reply. He stood up and turned around. "Can you show me that little sword tomb?"
The man was the military clan grandmaster who carried the sword on his back and wore the tiger tally. He claimed to be from True Martial Mountain and had once declared he would fight the junior master of the sect where the Golden Boy and Jade Girl studied.
The man shook his head. "It's not the right time yet."
Then he said with some irritation, "Why did you deliberately break that woman's water contemplation state? Do you know that once you do something like that, you've made a lifelong enemy?"
The boy said indifferently, "The path of cultivation is arduous. If she can't even endure this small hardship, how can she aspire to the lofty, carefree immortality?"
The man laughed angrily. "You haven't even entered the gate yet, and you dare to speak so arrogantly? Aren't you afraid of biting your tongue?"
The boy finally grinned, revealing white, gleaming teeth. "In the future, if I encounter such an opportunity during my cultivation, I'll take the initiative to tell that woman. Master, you're not to interfere. Let her come and ruin my chance if she can."
The man sighed. "Do you realize that opportunities in this world come in different sizes, fortunes vary in thickness, and bone talents differ in height? If you judge everyone by your own standards, one day you'll meet someone with bigger fists, deeper cultivation, and a higher realm. If that person is in a bad mood and breaks your Longevity Bridge with one punch, how will you handle it?"
The boy smiled. "Then I'll accept my fate!"
The man said self-deprecatingly, "From now on, I won't reason with you anymore. It's like playing the lute to a cow."
The boy suddenly asked, "How does that kid from Mud Vase Alley know the value of the stones in the water? And he's starting to practice martial arts?"
The man's expression suddenly turned stern. "Ma Ku Xuan! I don't care what kind of arrogant personality you have, but you must keep this in mind: we are orthodox swordsmen of the military clan! We cultivate the sword that breaks ten thousand dharmas, the sword that follows the original heart, the sword that seeks invincibility. But we are absolutely forbidden to kill innocents indiscriminately, to bully commoners, and, in the future, on the path of the sword, we are forbidden to trip up fellow cultivators out of jealousy!"
The boy stretched lazily. "Master, you're overthinking it. Even if that kid from Mud Vase Alley becomes formidable, as long as he doesn't provoke me, it has nothing to do with me. In the end, no matter how high the achievements of these town people are, they'll just be stepping stones for me. Jealous? I'd thank them if anything."
The man said helplessly, "I really can't reason with you. I'm afraid True Martial Mountain won't have a peaceful day."
The boy asked curiously, "What's your ranking on True Martial Mountain?"
The man chuckled. "Let's not talk about that—it would damage my pride."
The boy rolled his eyes. "I should have delayed my apprenticeship a little longer."
The man laughed it off.
He had a thought he didn't share with his disciple: geniuses in this world come in many types, and so does talent.
Earlier, that straw-sandaled boy's seemingly ordinary six-step walking stake routine actually carried martial intent throughout his entire body.