Chapter 1012: Where White Clouds Rise, There Are Homes
At the entrance to Luopo Mountain, Little Mi Li sat upright, with the golden carrying pole and green bamboo staff both placed on the table.
Daoist Priest Xianwei was chatting enthusiastically with a young Daoist wearing a lotus crown, hitting it off quite well.
The visitor claimed to have met the mountain lord at the very beginning of their journeys, and also counted himself as a close friend and relative of Daoist friend Jingqing.
The little girl in black had been staring at the two Daoists' tea bowls the whole time. She watched them drink, but the bowls never seemed to empty—she never even got a chance to add more water.
Bored and at a loss, she subconsciously reached out, rolled the green bamboo staff between her fingers, and twisted it gently. It creaked. She immediately stopped, and sure enough, the out-of-town Daoist turned his head to look. Little Mi Li quickly apologized, then straightened her back, extended one hand forward, and gestured for the two of them to continue their discussion.
That Daoist had a good temper. He smiled and said, "It's nothing. At the cultivation site, there are often emaciated crane-like recluses who chat and argue. Whenever someone says something brilliant, a jade chime rings out—crisp and pleasant."
On the mountain, a young boy in green clothes first flicked his sleeves and swaggered along the bluestone path toward the stone steps of the divine path that once led to the shrine at the summit. He planned to go to the mountaintop to get some fresh air. When he reached the steps, he intended to check whether the gatekeeper Xianwei was slacking off. Chen Lingjun put his hands on his hips and looked toward the mountain gate. His heart tightened, and he quickly raised one hand to shield his eyes. Damn it, he wasn't mistaken—it really was that wretched bastard who deserved a thousand deaths, and he had actually shown up right at their doorstep. The moment he remembered that his master's true body was still at the school teaching, Chen Lingjun immediately shrank his neck, tiptoed quietly, and prepared to return to his dwelling. Once at his house, he jumped onto the bed and buried his head under the covers—even thunder wouldn't wake him up.
"Daoist friend Jingqing, don't pretend you can't see me. Come down to the mountain foot and have some tea together."
Chen Lingjun covered his ears with both hands, pretending not to hear this mental message. He just kept running with his head down, muttering to himself, "Last night's torrential rain, thunder and lightning, wind uprooting trees, buildings swaying precariously—good heavens, such a commotion was truly terrifying. The bed and the entire dwelling were like a leaf in a surging sea of pine waves, deafening. No wonder I couldn't hear anything all day—I was actually deafened by it. What to do, what to do..."
Then a hand pressed down on his head. Chen Lingjun looked up and saw his master, with a warm smile. "Come down the mountain with me to receive our guest."
The boy in green coughed once, and suddenly his courage swelled. "Very well, I suppose I should go meet this uninvited guest. I've been finding him displeasing for quite some time now. If this can be endured, what cannot?"
The mountain lord before him, even if not his master's true body, what did it matter?!
Last time, at the opening of a new peak of the Yellow Millet Sect on Mount Lou, his master wasn't around. He had a run-in with this Lu fellow and lost some face. Today, he would get it back.
Lu Chen turned his head and saw Chen Ping'an in green robes walking down the mountain, with quite a few ink stains on his hands.
The divine lord was at the school near the source of the Thin Brow River. The Chen Ping'an before him was also one of the avatars, responsible for "copying books," recording and compiling what the other six saw and heard.
Lu Chen looked at him with resentment. "Chen Ping'an, today I just came to visit. I only came empty-handed without any gifts. Why are you so angry?"
It turned out that at Sanhua Beach in Caiyu Mountain, Lu Chen had completely lost the Dao connection with that particle of his divine mind.
If it were because he had been careless and fallen into a trap set by Gao Gu of Huayang Palace in Difei Mountain, that would be one thing. But this Chen Ping'an was only at the Nascent Soul realm now.
When Chen Ping'an reached the Ascension realm, what then?!
Chen Lingjun glared. "How dare you! Such audacity, calling my mountain lord master by his name directly?!"
As long as the good mountain lord was by his side, Chen Lingjun was completely emboldened, just like being dead drunk. Alcohol gave courage to the cowardly—he feared no one.
"Daoist friend Jingqing, just wait. We brothers will meet again someday."
Lu Chen gave a thumbs-up to the boy in green. "When that time comes, I'll give you a bowl. Fellow townsfolk meeting far from home—tears streaming down. You'll be crying so hard, you can treat me to a bowl of bitter wine."
Chen Lingjun's face turned awkward. He reached out and grabbed Chen Ping'an's sleeve.
He remembered Bai Xuan's catchphrase: Don't walk the night path alone.
Chen Ping'an flicked his sleeve and pressed his hand on the boy's head. "At least this is our own territory. Even if we lose, we don't lose face."
Having someone to back him up made a difference. Chen Lingjun put his hands on his hips, his mouth moving slightly, as if brewing a "killer move."
Lu Chen snapped, "If you dare spit, don't blame me..."
Having said that, Lu Chen raised his bowl and drank a mouthful of tea. He tilted his head back, gulped it down, then shook his head, his Adam's apple moving slightly. "Then let's settle it with skill!"
Chen Lingjun thought for a moment.
Little Mi Li quickly ran to Chen Ping'an's side, stood on tiptoe, raised her hand to cover her mouth, and whispered the intelligence, "Good mountain lord, just now this Daoist Lu said that you once traveled together for training, crossing mountains and rivers, through countless hardships. Luckily, with brothers united, metal could be cut through. You always managed to escape danger. Then once, at a place called Caiyu Mountain, he paid and you treated. You set up a drinking party, and in front of a fairy named Liang Yuping, whose Dao name is 'Jiaoshan,' you praised her for being beautiful."
"Of course I don't believe it—not a single bit! Daoist Priest Xianwei... he was half in doubt."
"Daoist Priest Xianwei even asked about that Miss Liang's figure—whether she was plump or thin. Daoist Lu said that fairy sister was so beautiful that he used seven or eight idioms! After listening for a while, Daoist Priest Xianwei only said 'insubstantial.' So Daoist Lu immediately switched to a more common explanation, saying that Miss Liang looked excellent from the front and the back, but somewhat plain from the side. Hearing that, Daoist Priest Xianwei let out a long sigh, picked up his bowl to drink tea, and became listless. After that, the two Daoists were like matching couplets—one said 'Walking in snow at the corner of the earth,' the other said 'Resting in fire at the edge of the sky.' There were plenty of other roundabout topics I don't really remember anymore, good mountain lord. Just now when you reached the mountain gate, Daoist Lu was saying that when the divine path declines, it returns to reverence for fate; when fate declines, what should it return its reverence to..."
Chen Lingjun pricked up his ears. There was such a thing? He supposed that when his master said a few polite words at the drinking table, it was understandable and forgivable.
Xianwei was dumbfounded.
Little Mi Li, you were actually listening carefully all that time?
Earlier you were sitting there yawning, drowsy, nodding like a chick pecking rice—was that all an act?
But I chatted with Daoist Lu about so much serious knowledge, and you barely remember any of it. Yet you remember these few irrelevant idle chats so firmly?
Little Mi Li even grinned at Daoist Priest Xianwei, giving him a thumbs-up—both to say good things and to claim credit. "Good mountain lord, our Daoist Priest Xianwei has been a thorough host. I saw it all—nothing missed, steady in words and actions."
Chen Ping'an walked behind Xianwei, who had just been praised all around, placed both hands on his gatekeeper's shoulders, and said with mild reproach, "If outsiders don't trust Chen's character, that's fine—they're outsiders after all, let them be. But Daoist Priest Xianwei is one of our own. How can you be half in doubt?"
Xianwei complained, "Wasn't I just led down the wrong path?"
Lu Chen adjusted the lotus crown on his head and laughed. "Little Mi Li, Daoist Priest Xianwei, your business here is done. Allow me to reminisce with Mountain Lord Chen and Daoist friend Jingqing about the bitter and the sweet."
Chen Ping'an nodded. Little Mi Li obediently got up and headed back up the mountain. She planned to tell Sister Nuanshu that she had met a young Daoist surnamed Lu at the mountain foot, who was witty, friendly, and very cordial.
Xianwei took his leave, went to sit on a bamboo chair by the gate, and fished out a heavily worn book from his bosom. Eh, wrong one. He quickly swapped it for a fresh book with pristine pages.
Chen Lingjun sat on a long bench next to the good mountain lord. He found that this put him face-to-face with Sect Leader Lu, which felt wrong. So he scooted his butt inch by inch, slowly moving to sit at one end of another bench. Still feeling unstable, he lifted both feet, turned around to face away from the mountain, and suddenly felt that the scenery was exceptionally fine right there.
Lu Chen looked at the back of the boy in green, smiled, picked up the white bowl, turned it upside down, and let a drop of tea fall onto the table. Instantly, clouds and mist rose, forming a landscape painting.
It showed a mighty mountain range. At the summit of the ancestor peak was a hollow. Inside the hollow were small bridges and flowing water, and an ancient shrine.
Chen Ping'an glanced at it and asked, "Isn't it missing a tree?"
Lu Chen shook his wrist, and another drop of tea fell onto the table. He looked surprised. "Mountain Lord Chen, are you so familiar with the customs and geography of our Azure Sky World?"
Chen Ping'an smiled. "The Azure Sky World has a topography of nine mountains and one water. Back then, if Chen Lingjun had followed you there, would it have been difficult for the Yu Fu dynasty to succeed?"
Lu Chen laughed. "Things depend on human effort. And with me cheering from the sidelines, stirring up momentum, I really couldn't say for sure whether a certain Daoist friend's river-riding would succeed or not."
Hearing this, Chen Lingjun immediately turned around, pressed both hands on the table, and asked, "What are you talking about?"
The painting on the table depicted a location on the border between Yong Province and Pei Province in the Azure Sky World. The two provinces were divided by a great watercourse.
Within Yong Province, at the top of this underwater mountain range, there was a place recorded in local gazetteers as the "Dressing Table," commonly called the "Washbasin." A stone bridge crossed the ravine there, named the "Returning Dragon Bridge."
Beside the bridge was a mountain god shrine, which concealed one of the participants in the "Joint Beheading" from years past. Outside the shrine grew a ten-thousand-year-old camphor tree, said to govern the qi of four provinces in the Azure Sky World.
The female emperor of the Yu Fu dynasty, Zhu Xuan, intended to hold a great ceremony of universal offering there. From her personality, Lu Chen knew with his gut that she would definitely chop down four branches.
Back before Lu Chen set out on his journey to the Pear Blossom Cave Heaven, he had promised this Zhu Xuan to bring her and the Yu Fu dynasty a chief worshiper. But Sect Leader Lu's words were as good as flatulent—he kept putting it off. Last time, Lu Chen even had the nerve to go to the mountain god shrine and outright renege on his promise.
As Chen Ping'an had said, the Azure Sky World, unlike the water-abundant Haoran World, was poor in water qi. To nurture a true dragon there was as hard as reaching heaven.
Chen Ping'an suddenly understood. "Before Old Temple Master left the Haoran World, he took away a great amount of East Sea water. By seniority, Old Temple Master could be considered Sect Leader Lu's uncle. If he tilted this water qi toward the source of the great watercourse, and Chen Lingjun then rode the river into the sea to transform into a dragon, the chances would indeed be considerable. After all, such a water passage has never happened before, and likely never will again. Old Temple Master gave the water qi as a merit deed, adding momentum to the great watercourse as it surged into the sea. If Sect Leader Lu and his uncle had reached an agreement beforehand, they could transfer part of the merit to Chen Lingjun. Then, with the Yin Fu dynasty's offering cultivators guarding the banks all along the way, and Sect Leader Lu secretly watching, all accidents could be ruled out."
Lu Chen looked at the boy in green and snorted coldly. "Did you hear that, Daoist friend Jingqing?! You've been giving me black eyes and cold shoulders all this time. Feel your own conscience—who are you being so hostile to?"
Damn it, this little brat was an ungrateful idiot! If only he had followed him to the Azure Sky World back then, what a great fortune would have awaited him! He could have just lain back and enjoyed it.
With Lu Chen as the bridge, as agreed, he would first secure the position of chief worshiper in the Yin Fu dynasty. The emperor Zhu Xuan was a woman of great boldness and vision; she would certainly empty the national treasury to ensure Chen Lingjun's river-riding succeeded. Everything was aimed at helping him become a dragon. Barring accidents, he could even compete with Wang Zhu of Mud Vase Lane for the great celestial opportunity of becoming the first true dragon in the world. When true dragons reappeared in the human world, Chen Qingliu, who had once beheaded a dragon, would return to the Fourteen Realm and have to travel across the world to Azure Sky to investigate. Even if that swordsman didn't meddle in the wars between Haoran and the Barren Wasteland, he might not necessarily behead the dragon. But given Chen Qingliu's consistent temper, there was a good chance he would clash with Zhu Xuan, that mountain god shrine, or the female Daoist Wuzhou whose temple was in Yong Province. If things went as expected, that ten-thousand-year-old camphor tree might be cut down by a sword inquiry. Then Zhu Xuan wouldn't be able to perform divination, and the current situation where several provinces were on the verge of chaos might be broken.
Although this was just a stopgap measure, Lu Chen could at least buy sixty years' time for the Jade Capital and Senior Brother Yu.
In all this, the one who benefited the most was Chen Lingjun, this little river-controlling snake. He didn't have to do anything, and it was bound to be stable with no side effects. He might even gain a protector unintentionally. After all, if Chen Qingliu wanted to maintain the Fourteen Realm, there had to be a true dragon in the world, and only one. Besides, judging by how Chen Lingjun had gotten along with that dragon beheader over the years, they would probably become sworn brothers in Yong Province's Yin Fu dynasty and get along very well—maybe even sharing a drink every now and then?
As for the process of the river-riding, it was roughly as Chen Ping'an had said. The East Sea water that Uncle Bixiao had stored in that sword-nurturing gourd was an indispensable key link.
Otherwise, even if Lu Chen were in charge of the Jade Capital, he couldn't rob Peter to pay Paul, defy the world's disapproval, and tilt the entire water qi of the Azure Sky World just for Chen Lingjun's river-riding.
Chen Lingjun frowned, raised one finger, and said gravely, "Let me slow down. I can't get my head around it all at once. I need to think deeply before drawing a conclusion..."
Lu Chen rolled his eyes. "A brain full of porridge—you couldn't think your way out of a fart."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "What Sect Leader Lu roughly means is that if you had followed him to Yong Province back then, you would have had a good chance of successfully riding the river and transforming into a dragon. There's a fair possibility that you would become the world's first true dragon before Wang Zhu of the Haoran World. You'd be a genuine dragon—commanding wind and rain at will—and you wouldn't have to worry about being targeted by the dragon beheader. Ascension realm true dragon, chief worshiper in the Yin Fu dynasty—your identity would be equivalent to the common lord of water qi in the fourteen provinces of Azure Sky. And most crucially, you'd have the biggest protective charm: you'd effectively have the Dao protection of the Jade Capital. Amongst the mountain immortal mansions and the dynasty below, wherever you went, you'd be a guest of honor. Everyone would praise you and say, 'Ancestor Jingqing is a true hero.'"
The boy in green blinked. When the mountain lord spoke like that, he understood. He was silent for a moment, then asked one question, "And then?"
Over there in a foreign land, if he rose to prominence and success, making friends of wealth and status across the world—even setting aside those fair-weather friends who only called each other brothers at the drinking table, there were still a few who could be considered true friends who had shared hardships—but here, at Luopo Mountain, what would happen? Chen Lingjun looked up at the mountain. There was the clumsy girl, Little Mi Li, the old cook. He turned to look at Daoist Priest Xianwei at the gate... And farther away, wasn't there Brother Wei, who was always stingy and often made him lose face, but who had always been so close to Luopo Mountain that they shared a single pair of chopsticks?
Chen Ping'an and Lu Chen exchanged a glance.
What do you think?
Lu Chen smiled.
Just as expected.
If someone else "said" this—or more accurately, thought this—they might be regretting it bitterly, knowing things were already like this, pretending to be casual, or at least putting on a brave face, unwilling to admit they had missed such an opportunity.
But Chen Lingjun was truly different.
Just look at how Chen Lingjun, over so many years, had been fixated on his river-god brother, helping him again and again. That alone showed how much this boy in green, who called himself "the little white streak in the river waves, the little dragon king on Luopo Mountain," valued loyalty.
If a friend treated him badly, that friend always had his difficulties, but Chen Lingjun could not treat his friend shabbily. He couldn't let his friend feel that befriending him had been a waste. Otherwise, it would be a problem with his own character.
This was probably the sole principle by which Chen Lingjun had walked the martial world his entire life.
It was like a principle you tell to a hundred people. Ninety-eight would understand, but two would not. One might be a staunch skeptic, and the other knew the principle but simply didn't care.
At the end of the day, Chen Lingjun could not bear to part with anyone or anything at Luopo Mountain.
Lu Chen rolled up his sleeve, put away the landscape painting on the table. Chen Ping'an had Chen Lingjun go to the stove to fetch the kettle and add water.
It was tea from this year—the old cook had picked the tea greens from a few old tea trees on Yellow Lake Mountain, fried them himself. Rain-precursor tea held up well to steeping, and with mountain spring water, it had a wonderful lingering sweetness.
Chen Lingjun poured hot water into the two bowls on the table, but seemed to have forgotten his own white bowl. Chen Ping'an told him to just leave the teapot there and go about his business.
Walking a bit unsteadily, not in a hurry to climb the mountain, Chen Lingjun first went behind his hands to Daoist Priest Xianwei's side, patted him on the shoulder, said a few earnest words, then slowly ascended the mountain.
"In the martial world, loyalty comes first. Poverty and lowliness cannot sway you, power and force cannot bend you. If circumstances force it, kowtowing a few times is not shameful—a real man can bend and stretch."
"That Lu bastard must think I'm an idiot. If I became a true dragon, wouldn't the dragon beheader come knocking to chop me up?"
"What a brain, so dim. If he had any sense at all, he wouldn't say such preposterous nonsense without even drafting it first. And he calls himself the Third Sect Leader of the Jade Capital? I could do that job just as well—even if he begged me, I wouldn't go."
Seeing Little Mi Li carrying the golden carrying pole and holding the green bamboo staff, Chen Lingjun clasped his hands behind his back and nodded, putting on airs of maturity. "Little Mi Li, patrolling the mountain, eh?"
Little Mi Li didn't stop walking. She just glanced at him, sighed, and continued patrolling. Jingqing was good, but his head... oh, such worries.
Chen Lingjun, who had originally wanted to brag a bit to Little Mi Li, immediately found it pointless. He stopped the rambling and quickly caught up to Little Mi Li. He flapped his two sleeves noisily as they patrolled together. In a low voice he asked, "Are there still any tea-leathers over there? I saw quite a few a few days ago. Enough to fill a pocket, for sure. The old cook didn't sneak-eat them all, did he?"
Little Mi Li immediately pursed her lips, rolled her eyes, then suddenly lit up. "Aiyo!" she cried, stomping her foot. "Just my luck—I said I'd take a nap and then go look, and they were gone without a trace!"
Chen Lingjun feigned anger. "That old cook, the greedy little thief—lawless! Come on, let's go reason with him!"
Little Mi Li quickly grabbed Chen Lingjun's sleeve, furrowed her faintly yellow brows, and said seriously, "Jingqing, Jingqing, I know a good place! There are tea-leathers there—lots!"
Lu Chen said abruptly, "Word building and sentence formation—layers upon layers, adding without subtracting, too much is as bad as not enough."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Those avatars won't linger outside for too long."
Lu Chen smiled. "Roughly how many base templates do you need? Thirty? Or enough to make a hundred? Or to play it safe, three to five hundred?"
It was like a person talking: the words truly needed are only a few hundred commonly used ones.
For instance, at Caiyu Mountain's Bamboo Branch Sect, when Chen Ping'an carefully copied the key figures, besides a few helpers in the outer sect guest reception line, the stone masons from Caiyu Mountain, surely including the mining overseer Bai Bo, the Water Dragon Peak cultivator Xia Houzan, and Liang Yuping of Jizu Mountain—altogether, maybe around thirty different characters of all types. But those who truly qualified as what Lu Chen called "base templates"—just in the Bamboo Branch Sect alone—probably wouldn't exceed the fingers of two hands. Such base templates had nothing to do with status, whether one was a cultivator, or realm level.
Still, Lu Chen always felt that Chen Ping'an staying at Caiyu Mountain seemed to have some other purpose, and his intentions were deeply hidden.
Of course it wasn't the trivial matter of using the Bamboo Branch Sect to keep tabs on Zhengyang Mountain. So when Lu Chen decided to do a proper deduction, at Sanhua Beach, he was caught red-handed by Chen Ping'an—possibly through the restriction set by Fu Lu and Xuan, or possibly by some instinct—and taken advantage of. Chen Ping'an went with the flow and threw one of Lu Chen's divine mind particles into that "cage." Lu Chen couldn't forcefully break the restriction to escape, because then he would truly become enemies with Chen Ping'an. Lu Chen was never afraid of anyone; Lu Chen was only afraid of "non-self." In his cultivation of the Dao, Lu Chen had almost no sense of good and evil. This was the complete opposite of the state Chen Ping'an's heart had been in back then, when he had two clear lines—good and evil. Chen Ping'an's state of mind, or rather his cognition, was like the chaos before heaven and earth were separated, while Lu Chen's Dao heart was like the difference between heaven and earth—nearly infinite in scope, another kind of absolute severance between heaven and earth.
Chen Ping'an said, "I'll not force it. I'll travel the Central Continent Divine Region again later anyway."
Lu Chen smiled. "This sword path of yours—profound as it is—is far, far simpler than Senior Brother Yu's quest for five hundred spirit officials."
Chen Ping'an said, "Sect Leader Lu doesn't need to remind me of the gap between him and me. I know it better than anyone."
Lu Chen asked dubiously, "You've never personally experienced Senior Brother Yu's Dao techniques and swordsmanship. How dare you claim to know the size of the gap?"
Chen Ping'an said, "Then consider that me boasting."
Lu Chen drank a mouthful of tea and chewed on the leaves.
Chen Ping'an said, "When the avatar is outside, besides cultivation, there is another thought. If you've been climbing the path of cultivation for a long time, you easily forget what came before."
So stay at the mountain foot and look up at the scenery on the peak.
Lu Chen nodded. "All habits themselves are a kind of self-imposed forgetting."
Chen Ping'an raised his bowl and clinked it against Lu Chen's. They both treated tea as wine.
Just that one line from Sect Leader Lu—ordinary mountain dwellers couldn't speak it.
Chen Ping'an laughed. "Since I was young, every time I go out traveling, I have a little habit when reading books: I count the number of times different characters appear in different books. Among the top ten, Sect Leader Lu stands far above the rest. The numbers from fourth to tenth place combined don't match even one 'Lu Chen.'"
Lu Chen asked curiously, "What if you add the third?"
Chen Ping'an said, "Still less than Sect Leader Lu alone."
Lu Chen asked again, "What about adding the second?"
"Still less."
Lu Chen exclaimed in admiration, "So I'm really that formidable."
The young Daoist wearing the lotus crown raised his head and looked toward Luopo Mountain.
Where white clouds rise, there are homes.
The lotus petal on his Daoist crown glowed, and that particle of his divine mind coalesced.
Lu Chen held the bowl in one hand and tapped the table lightly with two fingers. "Have you not seen—the human world is like a mural, water as pigment, mountain as paper, gods and ghosts and spirits filling the walls, spring breezes rustling, bringing sword light. I once heard an immortal speak ancient words: the Heavenly Kings govern the four worlds, the crystal palace with green glazed tiles, the colored canopy held high like a peacock fan, the celestial maidens in brocade garments, golden whips urging on the qilin steeds. Sun to moon, yin to yang, celestial gods to earthly spirits, deities to immortals, thunder and lightning to fierce wind. To the left, the Confucian temple; to the right, the martial temple; in the middle, the city god temple. Lotus in the mountains, cloud-brocade robes, a pure vase cools the summer seat. Who pays respects to the heavens? The golden bell and jade chime echo through the mountains. The man of Qi turns his chariot back halfway; beneath the plum tree lies a pillow of bones. I once worried that clouds would rise beneath the mural, lift up the mountain gate, and ascend to the sky..."
Just then, a man came running down from the mountain, laughing loudly. "Daoist Lu! Still setting up your stall and freeloading?! Back in the small town, that pretty girl who exchanged glances with us two brothers—she's married off long ago! Come, I'll lead the way. Over in the prefectural city, the pretty girls nowadays—have they ever been fewer? One batch ages, another fresh batch comes along—more than in those days, if anything!"
Lu Chen slurped. Just hearing that voice gave him a headache. He was about to make a quick getaway when the man reached out and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing hard. "Running away? Old friends! Brothers united, business thrives! Back then, you always rode my coattails and made no small amount of silver..."
Lu Chen had no choice but to put his butt back on the bench. "Brother Dafeng, family doesn't talk like outsiders. Back then, when you squatted next to my stall, business really dried up—you blocked my way to making money, more like it. All those young ladies, they came for me, but as soon as they saw you, they'd give the stall a wide berth. Did I ever say a word? Isn't that brotherly enough?!"
Zheng Dafeng laughed heartily. "Water under the bridge—what's the use of bringing it up?"
Lu Chen nodded, tilted his shoulder, and complained bitterly, "Ouch, ouch, that hurts."
Chen Ping'an stood up with a smile. "You two chat. I probably won't understand what you talk about anyway."
Lu Chen was frantic. "No, don't! The three of us are all acquaintances—let's talk together!"
Chen Ping'an sat back down. "Sect Leader Lu, what business brings you to the Haoran World this time?"
Lu Chen gave a dry laugh. "If Mountain Lord Chen has things to do, feel free to go first. Brother Dafeng can entertain me—that's more than enough."
Chen Ping'an thought for a moment. "Are you looking for a certain cultivator?"
In fact, they were looking in Fuyao Continent, in Tongye Continent, and in Bottle Gourd Continent as well, for a potential "cultivator."
According to Cui Dongshan's speculation, it was the offspring of a Haoran human woman and some Barren Wasteland demon cultivator.
Cui Dongshan wanted to find this person first, but to no avail—just like before, when he wanted to find that little girl "Yuanxiao" in the Five Colors World. It was bound to be a fruitless search.
Although Chen Ping'an's words seemed almost inexplicable, Lu Chen still nodded, looking troubled. "Very troublesome, quite troublesome! In a sense, we've actually found him twice already, but failed to catch him both times. As for why we couldn't catch him—just look at the Shadow Clock in the Barren Wasteland World and it's clear. So the Confucian Temple is also quite vexed. This time I offered to help voluntarily, and the Temple didn't stop me. Staying in Haoran, he's a hot potato—we can't uproot the weeds and root them out, that would go against propriety. Nor can we just lock him up, since he hasn't committed any real crime. We can't wash our hands of him and let him develop either, because he'll only grow on his own, never die out—a born cultivation seedling. He's the type to pick up money on the road, find a Daoist book or secret manual whenever he climbs a mountain. If we quietly have some high-level cultivator watch him, waiting for him to make a mistake so we can kill him—isn't that still punishment without education? If we patiently teach him poetry, propriety, and the principles of sages—who would be willing to take on such a huge karmic burden? Even if someone did take on this mess, do you think he could actually change the trajectory and alter the outcome? If I'm not mistaken, in that child's heart, he has already developed immense hostility toward the entire Haoran World. For example... seeing his peaceful, even good father, killed by a Haoran cultivator just for military merit—killed without distinguishing right from wrong. The child didn't even have time to learn that his father was a Barren Wasteland demon. His mother was caught up in it too. If the woman's looks were even slightly better, those Haoran cultivators might have been even less humane. This is just one possibility among many. In fact, there can be countless worse scenarios and outcomes. His bone-deep hostility toward the Haoran World will grow as time passes and as he climbs higher on the path of cultivation, gaining more malice. All the Barren Wasteland demons and demon cultivators who died here—all that pure malice—will be continuously transmitted and accumulated onto this cultivator in some strange, difficult-to-observe manner. Until one day, when he reaches the Ascension realm, it will all come to light. But by that time, he will most likely be in the Barren Wasteland World, standing alongside Feiran and Shouchen. It's highly possible that the near-collision of the two worlds was deliberately orchestrated by some entity, solely to allow this child to grow faster in a more covert manner. Every ten years, when the Sage of Rites leaves the Haoran World for the outer heavens, this person's qi fortune grows slightly, and his realm ascends—not too quickly, to avoid revealing his tracks. Good thing you didn't act rashly. If that observatory and the Zhilan Bureau of the Central Continent's Lu Clan had been destroyed... that would still be manageable—just money for repairs. But if the Lu Clan's Yin-Yang observatory and earth-measuring specialists had suffered heavy casualties from a sword inquiry, leaving only a handful, and the clan head Lu Shen had been knocked down in realm—that would have been unimaginably disastrous. The Lu Clan now has a pair—a man and a woman—who are a match made in heaven, with pure, flawless Dao hearts. In the entire Haoran World, I can't say they're the only ones who can find this cultivator—the Confucian Temple still has great masters—but having them or not having them truly makes a difference. If those two had crossed swords with you, Mr. Xiaomo, and Miss Xie that night—what then? Wouldn't that have been a huge, thorough mess?"
After speaking a torrent of words, Lu Shen hastily drank down a bowl of tea. "I haven't said so many words in one breath for a long time. I nearly choked and died."
Zheng Dafeng laughed. "Then I'll call you 'Dad,' hurry up and make a will, leave your inheritance to me."
Lu Chen looked utterly aggrieved. "Brother Dafeng, are those words fit for a human to speak?"
Chen Ping'an asked, "Even setting aside all that—assuming the Confucian Temple can never find this person—from today, what's the shortest time before he reaches the Fourteen Realm?"
Lu Chen said, "I'll only offer one guess. It's not reliable. I'm telling you upfront: just for reference. For instance, if he opens his cave abode within sixty years, he might reach Ascension within a hundred. As for how long after Ascension he needs to merge with the Dao at the Fourteen Realm—that's hard to say. Could be a hundred years, could be a thousand? Brother Dafeng, I'll say it for you: indeed, it's like I said nothing at all."
Chen Ping'an asked further, "Then how confident are you in finding him?"
"The hexagrams are very strange."
Lu Chen raised his hand, pressing two fingers together as if stroking a beard. "To be honest, it was close—just a hair's breadth—and I would have found a clue. But by the time I set foot in Bottle Gourd Continent, the trail was completely severed."
Lu Chen waved his hand. "It only sounds terrifying. We've already set that aside for now, so let's talk it back. A hundred-year Ascension realm cultivator—when you really think about it, putting his life on white paper, the life and death of an Ascension cultivator—what real difference does it make? As for a hundred years after a hundred years, or a thousand years later—at worst, the world gains one more Fourteen Realm. Whether I find him now or not... seems just about the same."
Zheng Dafeng said calmly, "When that person eventually opens a great slaughter against the entire Haoran World, when he retaliates against malice with malice without a trace of guilt—how many will remember the way a child once saw the world? Maybe... even he himself will have forgotten."
The young Daoist was silent.
Chen Ping'an's expression was gloomy.
Lu Chen wrapped his hands behind his head and murmured, "What to do then?"
It could only be to follow the course of nature, do what one can, and then follow nature again.
Lu Chen gently rocked his body, then suddenly asked, "Chen Ping'an, if you met this person, what would you do?"
Chen Ping'an stood up and said, "With an ordinary mind."
Lu Chen turned his head to look at the green-robed figure walking up the stone steps.
Zheng Dafeng slammed the table. "Daoist Lu! When are we brothers going to set up a stall in the prefectural city?"
Lu Chen startled, his speech stammering. "Brother Dafeng, I really don't think that's necessary anymore."
Earlier, after sharing a drink with his master and Uncle Bixiao, Lu Chen immediately went to the Smoke Cloud Cave in the Jade Capital's Zhenyue Palace.
Sure enough, he reaped a reward. Zhang Fenghai, that kid, was quite capable—he had actually figured out most of a sentence, an ironclad prophecy.
"The Dao wanes for three hundred years, then this lord appears." But after Lu Chen's own deductions, he got closer to the truth. "The Dao wanes for five hundred years, then Chen the lord appears."
But the problem was that Chen Ping'an's surname was Chen. And as it happened, the senior brother's surname was also Chen nowadays!