Chapter 1113: Wind and Rain, Peach and Plum, Shepherd's Purse Flowers
Chen Ping'an sat back down and immediately heard Lu Chen and Zheng Dafeng babbling nonsense over there.
"Brother Dafeng, if you were a Confucian, your Way-power would be no less than the two sect leaders Dong and Han."
"You need to go shout that at the Central Earth Confucian Temple's gate to show sincerity. Do you dare?"
"Confucians have too many rules. Brother Dafeng, would you like a high position somewhere in the Qingming world? I, this poor priest, would wholeheartedly introduce you. Anywhere inside or outside the Jade Capital, you can choose."
"That woman Wu Zhou has too fierce a temper, and she's a bit old too. I'm not sure I can hold her down. Chao Ge already has a Dao partner; if I remember correctly, they even had a wedding feast. The two capital mountains and the Great Tide Sect have already formed a marriage alliance. Playing the third wheel wouldn't be right; it'd be bad for Xu Jun to suffer a heart wound and never recover. Or could it be Sister Zhu Xuan's Fish Talisman Dynasty? Or maybe Sister White Lotus's Green Spirit Dynasty?"
As they chatted, the two of them eventually sat down on the same bench and started whispering and muttering to each other. It seemed their past friendship was quite something.
Just as Chen Ping'an was about to stand up, Lu Chen quickly pulled out a tin can with dense inscriptions and a signature of Linglong Pavilion, switched out the tea for the mountain master and Zheng Dafeng, then added hot water. He said, "Try some of this cloud tea from Mount Kuanglu. This poor priest used immense effort to steal just this little bit. The cost was not small. Now there's a stele inscribed for me at the foot of the mountain. We're all cultivators, so why are your tempers still so hot? It's just a few catties of tea leaves. Chen Ping'an, what are your plans next? If it's convenient, we can travel a stretch of road together and have company so it won't be too dull."
Chen Ping'an changed the subject and asked, "Has Zhang Fenghai of Yushu City already left the Smoke Grotto of Zhenyue Palace?"
Lu Chen nodded. "He'll participate in the Three Teachings Debate, so the Jade Capital has given him leeway. But that kid has a hot temper and a stubborn streak. He's already withdrawn from the Jade Capital's Dao official registry and even given up his Yushu City Dao registry. His two senior brothers, the city lords who've always treated him like half a son, are both happy and angry. They can't find Junior Brother Zhang Fenghai's whereabouts, so they just pick on the soft persimmons and vent their anger on me. They made a huge scene in Nanhua City. Do they really think I, this poor priest, am a vegetarian? Anyone can act like a shrew. I set up a stall in Huaihuang County for ten years!"
Because Lu Chen mentioned the shrewish scolding, Chen Ping'an asked, "Cheng Quan?"
Back then on the city wall, both Cheng Quan and Zhao Geyi, the old sword cultivators, had a great deal of respect for the Second Shopkeeper. It had nothing to do with sword skill; it was simply that the young Hidden Official, as an outsider, had completely crushed them in the areas they excelled in.
Lu Chen smiled. "He and Nalan Shaowei are now using the Resting Dragon Stone in the middle of the Water Center at Suicu Palace as their sword-forging practice ground. They're thriving. Suicu Palace is famously exclusionary and protective of its own. When they go out to travel in the future, they can walk sideways through the Fourteen Prefectures. As for Dong Heitan and Yan Fatty, you don't need to worry about them. Furthermore, as long as Criminal Investigator Hao Su is around, it'll only be them bullying others."
Chen Ping'an nodded.
Suddenly, Lu Chen lowered his voice. "The three hundred Gold Essence Coins you owe Yu Xuan—this poor priest has some savings. I've never been able to stand seeing a friend default on a debt. Just thinking about it makes me uncomfortable. So I've already covered the debt for Fallen Mountain. Given our friendship, don't even mention such petty money!"
Chen Ping'an sneered.
Lu Chen looked a bit embarrassed. "Alright, I'll tell you the truth. It's actually this poor priest who, after a lot of persuasion and smooth talk with Elder Yu, managed to have the debt waived for Fallen Mountain."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Abbot Lu, besides liking to take on things, you're also quite skilled at taking credit."
Lu Chen looked puzzled. "Has Old Scholar already spoken to you about this?"
Chen Ping'an frowned. "What do you mean?"
Lu Chen's face turned awkward, and he had to confess the truth. "Before leaving the Jade Capital to come to Haoran, this poor priest did indeed take a trip to the Heavenly Star River and had a pleasant conversation with Yu Xuan. The old god took the initiative to mention the matter of three hundred Gold Essence Coins. He said that after a discussion with Old Scholar over the Way, he had gained significant benefits to his Great Dao. He was thin-faced and felt the Gold Essence Coins were nothing in comparison, so he said they'd be written off. 'Don't even mention such petty money' was just the poor priest relaying the old god's words. He also said that the next time Mountain Lord Chen visits the Central Earth Divine Continent, even if he, Yu Xuan, is not in the sect, he can directly go to Tianjin Peak and borrow another three or five... five or six hundred Gold Essence Coins. He has already informed his two direct disciples in charge of finances at the orthodox and upper sects. When the time comes, Mountain Lord Chen only needs to ask, and the money will be available."
When he said "three or five," he noticed Chen Ping'an's gaze seemed off, so he quickly caught on and immediately changed the number to five or six hundred.
This pot, this poor priest will carry with brotherly righteousness. He'll take the fall for his brother!
Lu Chen asked tentatively, "Six avatars, limited by the quality of the talisman paper, their realms aren't high. Do you really not need this poor priest's help with protection?"
"No way."
Chen Ping'an stood up to take his leave and silently ascended the mountain alone.
If Lu Chen wasn't spouting nonsense, Fallen Mountain's Spring Treasury had essentially gained an extra three hundred Gold Essence Coins. If they were all refined, although they couldn't improve the grade of the flying sword "Wellhead Moon," the number of avatars it could spawn would significantly increase.
After that, during his trip to Yuzhou, besides meeting with the Great Li Emperor, he also wanted to see how much surplus Gold Essence Coins remained in the Great Li national treasury.
And of course, he needed to visit the Timber and Mining Court in Yuzhang Commandery. After confirming that Lin Shouyi's father had no involvement in that old grievance, Chen Ping'an's feeling of relief was something that couldn't be expressed to outsiders.
This year, on Qingming Festival, in the capital of the Yu Xuan Kingdom, Ma Kuxuan wanted to block him? He could try it.
Regardless of whether it dragged in True Martial Mountain or the Western March Peak Lord's Mansion of the Vase Precious Continent, it didn't matter.
Also, earlier at Oxhorn Mountain, Chen Ping'an had promised Zhang Caiqin and Hong Yangbo to attend the Qingxing Kingdom's ceremony in the middle of the year.
As for the matter of digging the Great River in the Tongye Continent, Chen Ping'an had already decided to wash his hands of it and let Cui Dongshan and the Green Ping Sword Sect handle the coordination with various forces.
Earlier, outside the sky, Chen Ping'an had confirmed one thing: the Confucian Temple was indeed going to canonize the Five Marches of the Vase Precious Continent. The five March Lords, including Wei Bo and Jin Qing, would soon receive divine titles.
As for the Three Teachings Debate, Chen Ping'an was still hesitating whether to attend as a listener or bring Xian Wei.
The top priority, of course, was to return to the Jade Realm.
After that, while traveling with Wine Immortal Liu across Haoran, he had originally planned to visit the Liu Clan of the Aiai Continent and Lei Gong Temple of Pei Axiang, but now Chen Ping'an had lost interest in going to the Liu Clan. Their relationship hadn't reached that level; he was just an unregistered guest elder.
By the gate, as soon as the mountain master left, Xiao Mo and Xie Dog appeared.
Lu Chen looked at the sable-hatted girl. The sable-hatted girl curved her fingers and pointed at her eyes, signaling the young Daoist in the lotus crown to keep his bright, thieving eyes in check.
Lu Chen said telepathically, "All things rise and fall naturally; the old thing is never as good as the new. But Miss Xie, trying to steal the heavens and replace them, using this to harmonize with the Dao—in this poor priest's opinion, it's no easy task."
Xie Dog grinned. "Where there's a will, there's a way."
Then Xie Dog put on a pitiful expression and said, "Xiao Mo, this Daoist secretly flirted with me. His mental words earlier were quite lewd."
Zheng Dafeng immediately raised his white bowl. "I can vouch with Lu Daozhang's dog head that this is something Lu Daozhang would do."
Xiao Mo smiled, clearly not taking it seriously. "Mr. Zheng, don't jest. I trust Lu Daozhang."
Lu Chen gave Xiao Mo a thumbs-up and took a sip of tea to calm himself. "Besides, reciting Buddhist scriptures with a lewd mouth is better than cursing people with a pure one."
Xie Dog sneered. "A Daoist like you, also observes vegetarian fasts and recites Buddha?"
Lu Chen nodded. "When this poor priest encounters a difficult obstacle he can't overcome, he always silently recites 'Buddha protect me' a few times in his heart. Amitabha."
Xie Dog was a bit puzzled. This Daoist in front of her—was he Lu Chen, the Third Abbot of the Jade Capital?
Was he hard to kill? How hard?
Lu Chen, however, turned his gaze toward Fallen Mountain.
On the mountain, there was an old man hunched over, whom Pei Qian had described as "the best fighter among chefs and the best cook among martial artists." He was smiling as he looked toward the foot of the mountain.
After parting, I know not how far you've gone; drunk, I forget the road I came from.
The world was silent, save for the faint rustling of turning pages near a bamboo chair at the mountain gate.
Inside the first-floor bamboo house, Chen Ping'an continued "copying books."
By the Heart Lake where Chen Ping'an's main body resided, dozens of people stood, such as Xiahou Zan and Liang Yuping. Their postures and expressions shifted slowly, like flowing water. Their clothing and ornaments were depicted with the utmost detail. Even if a great cultivator concentrated their divine sense, even the tiniest tear on a Dharma robe conformed to "principle," for they were all real things repeatedly scoured by the river of time, leaving no flaw to be found. And every word they had ever spoken floated in the air like a flock of birds circling a tall mountain, never leaving.
---
Fallen Mountain and the Green Ping Sword Sect.
The upper sect had the Lotus Flower Blessed Land at Jiling Peak, and the lower sect had the Long Spring Cave Heaven at Mixue Peak.
Within the cave heaven was a mountain called Red Pine, naturally because of the many ancient pines. According to Cui Dongshan's explanation, the previous owner was pure-hearted, desired little, disliked noise, and had employed an extremely profound "mountain-sealing" method, so that no awakened wood or grass spirits had yet appeared in the mountain. Of course, Cui Dongshan had now lifted this seal. It wouldn't be long before awakened ancient pine spirits started appearing one after another. However, from awakening to taking form, especially for plant-kind, the difficulty was considerable.
Yu Xiekui and He Gu, who had originally built a thatched hut here to practice swordsmanship, had now gone out on travels, busy with the important matter of opening the Great River, saying they could contribute their meager efforts.
Only Chai Wu, Bai Xuan, Sun Chunwang, and Cheng Zhaolu remained.
Chai Wu had entered the Jade Realm and was now the most idle.
Bai Xuan and the others, having a rare day of free time between sword practice, gathered together.
Chai Wu sensed the gathering and came over to join the fun.
Seeing the girl with a wine flask in her hand, Bai Xuan cupped his hands and bowed repeatedly. "Oh my, isn't this 'You Na' Immortal? What wind blows you here? Your esteemed presence brings glory to this humble abode. This junior has low cultivation and a thin family fortune. This humble house has no wine, so I can't entertain you properly. Guilt, guilt! Cheng the little cook, what are you standing there for? Hurry up and kowtow a few times to apologize to our You Na Immortal..."
Sun Chunwang, sitting to the side, glanced at Bai Xuan who was full of sour words. Every time it was like this, endless. Luckily, Chai Wu had a good temper. If it were her, she wouldn't indulge Bai Xuan.
Bai Xuan was really just feeling unsettled in his heart and venting with his mouth. To say he was truly jealous of Chai Wu or couldn't stand seeing her do well—that wasn't the case, not at all.
What kind of person did he, Lord Bai, who aimed to prove the Dao and ascend, think he was?!
It was just that ever since Chai Wu entered the Jade Realm, Bai Xuan felt that he and the word "genius" had completely become strangers for this life.
After all, compared to Chen Li, known as the "Little Hidden Official," Bai Xuan didn't think the gap was that big. With a little more effort and a bit of hard work, he would surpass her in realm.
But Chai Wu had jumped straight from the Willow Sinew Realm, the third realm of Qi refiner, to the Jade Realm. What was Lord Bai supposed to do?
Should he grit his teeth and let the Hidden Official chop him a few swords, cutting him from the Cave Dwelling Realm back to the third realm? The problem was, even if he did that, he, Lord Bai, would just be following that girl "Weed" by example; wouldn't he still be one step behind her in momentum?
Bored out of his mind, Bai Xuan took a booklet from his sleeve, placed it on the table with a solemn expression, rubbed his hands together, and slowly opened this "Heroic Register."
The first page featured the newly acquainted sword cultivator Qiu Zhi from Nine Chess Peak, a good brother.
No wonder the Hidden Official always liked to travel far and wander the jianghu. Friends probably came this way—they didn't fall from the sky; you had to rely on fate, find them yourself, and make their acquaintance.
Bai Xuan turned his head and said, "Little Cook, you should also learn boxing..."
Cheng Zhaolu immediately shook his head like a rattle drum and said decisively, "I'm all set! My aptitude for boxing is too poor; I'm not even worth looking at. I won't be a token!"
For the sake of being a fellow townsman, Bai Xuan continued to persuade, "Little Cook, why belittle yourself so much? Just shouting a few cheers on the sidelines is good too."
Seeing the fat man still shaking his head, Bai Xuan gave up.
Never mind, it wasn't like there was a lack of one Cheng Zhaolu. He was the same kind of goods as Bai Shou from Fluttering Peak, both completely lacking courage, all cowards.
Especially Bai Shou. Pity they shared the surname Bai. All the men of the Bai family are heroes. Next time they meet, he'd have to persuade him to change his surname.
---
At the southern border of the Vase Precious Continent, the northeastern frontier of the Cloud Soaring Dynasty.
A young man with thick eyebrows and big eyes was accompanied by a young female Daoist holding a whisk. They stopped at the foot of a mountain.
The female Daoist smiled. "Shuijing, how did your friend choose such a spiritually barren place to establish a sect?"
Dong Shuijing said, "He's been like that since childhood. He doesn't like noise, wishes no one knew him, and only likes to make money quietly."
The master of this mountain and the lawkeeper of the sect came down together to welcome the distinguished guests.
On the way down, Wu Tijing joked, "Nothing good ever comes when someone shows up uninvited. Chief Hu, you'd better be careful, or you might end up getting cheated and still thanking them."
Hu Feng said, "When it comes to money, Dong Shuijing is like you—not greedy. Trustworthy."
Hu Feng had one and a half friends in his life. The one beside him, Wu Tijing, counted as one. The fellow townsman at the foot of the mountain, Dong Shuijing, counted as half.
Wu Tijing lifted his chin. "That Daoist woman beside Dong Shuijing looks impressive."
Hu Feng said, "If I'm not mistaken, she's the current sect leader of the Spirit Flying Palace."
Sure enough, when they met, Dong Shuijing introduced the accompanying female Daoist as the current sect leader of the Spirit Flying Palace, Huang Li, with the Dao name "Dongting."
Previously, it had been the Spirit Flying Temple of the old White Frost Dynasty. The southward-advancing Great Li iron cavalry had breached the capital, cutting off the state's destiny. Now it had become the slightly smaller Cloud Soaring Dynasty.
Not long ago, the Spirit Flying Temple had been elevated to a palace, but it was not within the territory of the Cloud Soaring Dynasty.
Or rather, precisely because of this Dao temple's existence and her role as the nation's Protecting Daoist of the small country, the Cloud Soaring Dynasty couldn't simply annex it.
It was said this Jade Realm female Daoist excelled in Green Chapter Prayers and cultivated the Upper Six Paths, capable of summoning gods and manifesting true spirits, commanding ten thousand ghosts, and driving ghost soldiers.
Outside her temple, on the border between the two countries, she had opened an ancient battlefield with numerous ghost soldiers as her second Dao ground. She now had considerable momentum, giving the Cloud Soaring Dynasty no end of headaches.
Dong Shuijing's first business partner had actually been Hu Feng.
In the territory of the old Dragon Prefecture's New Chu Prefecture, Dong Shuijing had the nickname "Dong Half City." Hu Feng had a significant role in his rise to wealth.
When they met, Dong Shuijing didn't bother with small talk and cut straight to the point. "Hu Feng, do you still remember the amount of principal you gave me and our agreement on profit sharing?"
Hu Feng nodded.
He came from poverty and wasn't the type to be wasteful or treat money like it was nothing. So although Hu Feng wasn't particularly concerned about that money, he remembered the accounts clearly. He was just too lazy to press for it.
The two groups climbed the mountain together, talking as they walked.
Back then, Hu Feng had found eight excellent snake gallstones in the Dragon Whisker River. He sold them to the Li family of Fulu Street and an old man of Peach Leaf Lane. Although young, Hu Feng was experienced. He split the snake gallstones in half, offending neither side, and received two large stacks of banknotes. Later, Hu Feng spent only a small portion of the silver to buy an entire street of houses in the prefectural capital, obtaining over thirty title deeds from the government offices. At that time, house prices in the prefectural capital were extremely low. Additionally, the Great Li court intended to "fill" the old Dragon Prefecture with people from Hongzhou and Yunzhou, encouraging wealthy families and commoners from other prefectures to immigrate. The Dragon Prefecture government had unique policies that were extremely favorable to the people. Hu Feng handed over all his remaining capital to Dong Shuijing to manage as a partnership. Besides, because he often followed his grandfather through the streets and alleys as a child, Hu Feng had collected a lot of "junk"—mostly inconspicuous items like bronze mirrors and ancient coins. He gave all these to Dong Shuijing to sell. Whether they sold high or low, Hu Feng never asked. Dong Shuijing just did the trading; even if he lost everything, it didn't matter. If they made a profit, they would split it later.
That year, after Dong Shuijing sold these "junk items" at high prices and converted them to Snowflake Coins, Hu Feng's two sums of Immortal money accounted for about 30% of Dong Shuijing's assets.
Dong Shuijing smiled. "Now there are two options. First, we dissolve the partnership. You take back your principal and dividends. Second, you keep the principal and first take a batch of dividends. In the future, I'll have someone deliver them to you annually. If you find that troublesome, ten years or sixty years is fine."
Hu Feng replied without hesitation, "The second option. One dividend every ten years is fine."
Wu Tijing asked casually, "If Chief Hu chose the first option, how many Grain Rain Coins would he get?"
Hu Feng was also curious. Dozens? A bit few. A hundred? Several hundred?
As long as it was over a hundred Grain Rain Coins, the sect could easily get through its current difficulties.
Dong Shuijing smiled and reported a number.
Two thousand two hundred Grain Rain Coins.
Hu Feng thought he had misheard.
Wu Tijing only had one feeling: Was making money this easy? Brother Dong, take me along next time?
Dong Shuijing took out a dimensional object from his sleeve—a closed folding fan. "Inside are two hundred Grain Rain Coins. As for this dimensional object, consider it a congratulatory gift for Chief Hu and Lawkeeper Wu's establishment of the sect. This fan has no restrictions; opening it is like opening a gate. A fan has good affinity, which sounds like 'good affinity leads to good fortune.' Let's take it as a good omen, hoping our cooperation will be long-lasting."
Hu Feng didn't stand on ceremony and directly accepted the folding fan.
Wu Tijing's impression of Dong Shuijing improved further. He was indeed a straightforward person.
Hu Feng rarely made a joke. "If I'd known making money was this easy, I wouldn't have bought those houses in the prefectural capital back then."
Dong Shuijing teased, "Based on the current profit sharing, back then you were essentially spending a Grain Rain Coin as if it were a Snowflake Coin."
Saying this, Dong Shuijing gave a thumbs-up. "As expected of someone who's a sect leader. Even as a youth, you showed such generosity."
Dong Shuijing asked, "Hu Feng, those broken porcelain pieces you picked up at Old Porcelain Mountain back then—would you be willing to sell them?"
Hu Feng shook his head.
Then Hu Feng added with a smile, "If you'd mentioned this first instead of the profit sharing, I would have gritted my teeth and sold them."
Dong Shuijing laughed. "That might be how you deal with others, but with you, I won't play those tricks. Fellow townsman friendship still needs to be considered."
Hu Feng chuckled along. Fellow townsman friendship—many might find it ridiculous, but Hu Feng didn't. Dong Shuijing truly valued it, and Hu Feng sincerely treated it as real.
Dong Shuijing said directly, "Then let's discuss another matter. I want to buy the Cicada Slough Cave Heaven from you."
Although it had been lost for a long time, this cave heaven had always been one of the thirty-six minor cave heavens.
Hu Feng shook his head.
As for how Dong Shuijing knew this cave heaven was in his possession, Hu Feng didn't want to ask too much, and he believed Dong Shuijing meant no harm.
There were always some people who seemed born to be trusted.
In fact, just as Hu Feng saw Dong Shuijing that way, Dong Shuijing and Wu Tijing saw Hu Feng the same way.
Otherwise, ordinary Qi refiners would have become suspicious, and wilderness cultivators would have started plotting murder.
Wu Tijing glanced at the female Daoist beside Dong Shuijing.
Huang Li returned the smile to the young sword cultivator.
Dong Shuijing laughed. "Don't refuse yet. Listen to my offer first. First, I'm offering ten thousand Grain Rain Coins to buy the Cicada Slough Cave Heaven."
"Second, to be precise, I'm only buying the ownership of the Cicada Slough Cave Heaven from you. Within six hundred years, I won't interfere with your usage rights. Even if you strip the cave heaven of all its heavenly treasures and leave only an empty shell, I won't care. After six hundred years, I'll take back the cave heaven. Of course, if you think the term is too short, we can negotiate. Eight hundred years is fine."
"Third, I naturally don't have that much cash. Ten thousand Grain Rain Coins is no small amount. So I'll pay in three installments. First installment: three thousand Grain Rain Coins, which I can give you now. Second installment: one hundred years later, four thousand. Third installment: three hundred years later, fully settled. These four hundred years can be considered overdue payment, with additional interest. How about it?"
Wu Tijing was astounded. Even if he didn't care much about money, he was still shocked by Dong Shuijing's bold move. He couldn't help but elbow Hu Feng in the ribs. Wu Tijing didn't bother with mental speech and said bluntly, "Hu Feng, I think we can talk about this!"
Forget eight hundred years, even six hundred years—given his and Hu Feng's cultivation aptitudes, even without touching the sword immortal remains, couldn't they still learn the sword intent?
Hu Feng shook his head. "Let's not discuss this."
Dong Shuijing wasn't one to force the issue. He smiled. "No problem. If you change your mind one day, remember to come to me first. You can at least promise that, right?"
Hu Feng nodded. "That's fine."
The group hadn't even reached the two adjacent thatched huts halfway up the mountain when Dong Shuijing stopped, cupped his hands, and said, "I'll take my leave now. Palace Master Huang still has a mountain of matters to handle. Hu Feng, to be honest, I can't bear to look. Even someone as casual as me thinks your sect is too shabby. I think my old wonton shop back then might have been better than yours."
Hu Feng smiled. "Next time you come, it'll be different."
Having finished his business without even drinking water, Dong Shuijing led the female Daoist Huang Li down the mountain. At the foot, she summoned a talisman boat, and they rode the clouds and fog away.
Coming and going in a hurry, swift and decisive.
Wu Tijing, who rarely acknowledged anyone, said, "This Dong Shuijing is a decent man."
Hu Feng nodded. "My grandfather once said that shrewdness, intelligence, and wisdom are three different realms. He also said that a person with natural spiritual roots, though easily stained by the mortal world, can 'turn their thoughts' and 'turn back' more easily because of that spiritual root. When my grandfather came to Old Porcelain Mountain to find me, the first time he saw Dong Shuijing's appearance, he said, 'At three, you can see the old age,' and that in the future he would definitely be someone not short of money. And his greatest skill was making a lot of money and being able to keep it."
"In fact, Dong Shuijing stopped studying very early. He started by running a wonton shop and selling glutinous rice wine."
"Before that, I even tried to persuade him to stay and study with that Mr. Qi. But Dong Shuijing was very determined. He said, 'Even if I study, I can't beat Lin Shouyi, so I might as well start earning money early.'"
Wu Tijing smiled. "It's obvious that Huang Li from the Spirit Flying Palace treats Dong Shuijing with great respect."
As the direct disciple of Immortal Lord Cao Rong, inheriting the Spirit Flying Palace, according to Daoist lineage, she would be a second-generation disciple of Lu Chen, the third abbot of the Jade Capital.
To have such a female Daoist immortal, with both backing and realm, accompany him up the mountain as if she were his attendant—
It showed that Dong Shuijing had truly made it big.
Amidst rolling clouds, on the talisman boat, the female Daoist asked with a smile, "Shuijing, are you really not coming with me to visit the Gold Immortal Convent at Qingmiao Peak?"
Dong Shuijing shook his head. "I need to go to Miao Mountain."
"The debt pawnbrokers are always busy."
"Busy in body, not in mind."
---
Within the territory of Great Li's Yuzhou, by the banks of the Jing Creek, there was an ancient temple with only average incense offerings. Although it was a thousand-year-old monastery, because it belonged to the Vinaya School of Buddhism, which was most particular about strict precepts, even on the first and fifteenth of the month, the number of worshippers was not large.
This was only thanks to the Great Li court's recent decrees ordering the construction of temples and the promotion of Buddhism in various regions. Before that, the incense offerings must have been as thin as a thread, close to extinction.
But if it were in the Central Earth Divine Continent or the Liuxia Continent, where Buddhism flourished, this temple, hailed as the foremost Vinaya mountain in the Vase Precious Continent, would have enjoyed booming incense offerings.
He remembered that when he was young, while searching for suitable porcelain clay with Master Yao deep in the mountains, the old man had muttered to himself, "A tree moves and dies, a man moves and lives; when the soil moves, it becomes a Buddha."
An elderly scholar with graying temples, looking about seventy, with a gaunt face, had been lodging here for many days. He often consulted the senior monks on Vinaya doctrine, especially regarding the "Four-Part Vinaya."
It was said that the founding patriarch of this temple had once served as an abbot of a famous large temple in the Central Earth Divine Continent and had even participated in a translation workshop for a Tripitaka master.
Earlier, Chen Ping'an had withdrawn his divine sense and returned to his main body. This "layman" did not want to reveal himself in the temple, so he immediately used the earth escape technique, found a wilderness cave, and "shed his skin" into a paper talisman. When Chen Ping'an released his mind again, he stealthily returned to the temple, passed through the mountain gate, entered the guest room, and lit a lamp to copy scriptures.
Today at noon, dark clouds gathered; rain was about to fall. For a time, the day turned as dark as night.
A Confucian scholar with a wooden hairpin, dressed in a scholar's robe, sat on a meditation cushion in the corridor, holding a string of beads and gently turning them.
In the months he had stayed at this ancient temple, the scholar had brought no servant or boy with him, only a few pieces of luggage—clothing boxes and book chests—keeping everything simple.
The temple had a considerable collection of scriptures, but unfortunately half were damaged by insects and rot. In front of the Great Buddha Hall was a small pond with dozens of golden carp and crucian carp, their scales glittering. According to the mountain chronicles, in the past, an immortal has raised several small dragons in the pond, each over a foot long, with snake heads and four claws. The nearby worshippers, from childhood to old age, over sixty years, would look at the pond every time they came to burn incense. They never saw any sign of them growing or aging or dying. It was rumored that from time to time, thieves from afar, hearing of this, would sneak into the temple at night, capture the small dragons and put them in water bottles, and carry them away, but each time they escaped midway and returned to the temple pond, the water bottle seals intact. Unfortunately, after a heavy rainstorm, the dragons ascended with the clouds and vanished without a trace. The golden carp and crucian carp in the pond now were said to have turned from their original dark green to gold due to the influence of dragon qi. They had long listened to the Buddhist chants, the morning bells and evening drums, learning the Way here, seeking to be reborn as humans.
The scholar in Confucian robes was a major donor. Earlier, the temple monks, seeing his refined conversation and pure capital accent, suspected he was a high official or noble. They often initiated conversations and probed him. Later, after the scholar repeatedly explained that he was not from a family of officials, the monks gradually lost their respectful demeanor and became haughty. However, a young novice monk insisted that the man was a wealthy merchant. He often asked about matters in various regions and frequently invited the scholar to climb the mountain and enjoy the scenery. At the top of the mountain was a cliff that often gave rise to white clouds, extremely wide, condensed like white jade fat, like a sea of snow lingzhi, with only the mountain standing unmoving. The young novice only had to tap at the window and say the word "clouds," and the scholar would change into straw sandals, take two walking sticks made from bamboo roots gathered from the back mountain, lend one to the young novice, and they would climb the mountain together. The sticks were light and clean. Amidst the swirling clouds and mist, as they climbed, they didn't know whether the mountain was rising into the clouds or the clouds were descending to meet the mountain.
Beside the temple was a spring, clear and cold. The mountain monks used green bamboo tubes to channel it into the kitchen; it was sweet for making tea. The elderly scholar had been staying there for a long time, copying scriptures every day. He carried an ancient inkstone with him. He would often take the inkstone to the bamboo pipe, let it draw water from the spring, and return to grind ink. Behind the mountain was a pavilion with an imperial stele, erected by a previous dynasty's emperor to pray for blessings for the Empress Dowager. Outside the pavilion, along the path, there were more than a dozen stone steles, mostly erected for rain prayers by local officials. The inscriptions all spoke of the temple's efficacy in bringing rain and of petitioning the court for several acres of temple land, and so forth.
Within Yuzhou territory, the weather varied within a hundred li. Since ancient times, there had been the strange phenomenon of clear skies suddenly producing thunder at noon. Moreover, abundant water vapor, blocked by high mountains, clashed like armies on a battlefield. Hence, the ancient temples in the mountains often experienced heavy rainstorms with astonishing momentum, like drought dragons rushing into a valley, hasty and urgent. At the shortest, it lasted as long as a cup of tea; at the longest, the time it takes to cook a meal, before the sun reappeared. The locals said there was a hidden dragon descending to bring rain to the human world, dragging its tail as it passed over the mountain.
Historically, this ancient temple had suffered many times from calamities of war and lightning strikes, was repeatedly destroyed and rebuilt. Fortunately, the merit steles in the temple recorded everything clearly.
A night-patrolling monk once witnessed a strange sight: lightning intertwined into a ball, entered through a window, and flashed brightly onto the eaves. Heavenly fire scorched the gold-painted faces of the Buddha statues inside the shrine. After the fire went out, the Buddha faces looked as if they were streaked with tears, while the beams and windows of the hall remained undamaged. There was also a Buddha statue riding a lion that cracked, and the gold paint melted like water, while the other colors remained as before.
The current abbot monk, after taking up residence here, began to ascend the rostrum to expound the Dharma. Soon after, during nighttime thunderstorms, the tip of a pagoda began to emit golden light, scattering like shooting stars.
But no other strange phenomena occurred elsewhere. The temple's incense offerings boomed for a while, and devout men and women came in an endless stream, bypassing many Daoist temples and monasteries to pay respects here.
Unexpectedly, this monk took the time to explain in detail to the monks and worshippers, showing them the drawings he had personally made for the construction and repair of the owl-tail ornaments on the roof ridges, how they could prevent lightning strikes and heavenly fires, why the spire of the pagoda was plated with gold and silver, what material was used for the central pillar of the pagoda that reached straight down into the ground, why it was called a "thunder pillar" in ancient texts, and what the purpose was of building the "dragon cave" underground... In summary, according to the old monk, it wasn't that mysterious; it had nothing to do with ghosts causing trouble or auspicious signs.
After that, whether the monks and worshippers understood only partially or completely, they all felt that lightning strikes and heavenly fires were no longer so interesting.
Ancient and strange, once explained, ceased to be strange; magical and wondrous, once seen through, lost their value.
But the old monk's actions directly caused the incense offerings, which had been improving, to decline again.
The monks in the temple naturally complained about this, but the old monk was the abbot appointed by the Great Li court. It was easy to invite a god, but hard to send one away.
This Layman Chen, who was lodging in the temple, had once asked out of curiosity why the great monk went to such "unnecessary trouble."
The old monk's explanation was simple: "The Buddha's Dharma should not be shown through divine wonders."
If said more bluntly and harshly, he would probably have said "deceiving the masses."
The layman asked with curiosity, "Aren't the supernatural powers of Buddhism expedient means?"
The old monk smiled and said, "They are only expedient means, not the ultimate method."
The scholar with graying temples nodded. "Good."
"Since the layman also believes in Buddhism, this poor monk has a question."
"Please, great monk."
"Do you think Buddhism is a world-weary teaching?"
"The Thus Come One speaks of the world, which is not a world, but is called the world."
After a moment of silence, the layman gave this triple-sentence principle, used to bolster his courage and serve as a reassurance: "If limited to the world we are in, Buddhism... is naturally world-weary."
The old monk nodded gently, smiled, and left.
The heavy rain was about to fall. The scholar stood up and bowed.
An old monk stopped, returned the bow, and entered the corridor.
The old monk smiled. "So Layman Chen is a cultivator, practicing thunder magic?"
The scholar nodded. "I dare not say I've entered the hall; I only know a little."
"Strange tales often record that thunder fire melts a sword while leaving its scabbard unburned. The Pi Ya says, 'Yin and Yang strike each other; the light is lightning, the sound is thunder; one sound, one breath, complementing each other.'"
The old monk smiled. "If Layman Chen came to practice here, whether to channel lightning or refine objects, wouldn't he have come in vain?"
After all, nowadays the temple only had lightning protection, not lightning attraction.
In the past, the temple's martial monks practiced supernatural powers, manifested a vajra's wrath, went out to vanquish demons and monsters. The temple specially built a room for drawing lightning, with hundred-refined knives and swords in wooden scabbards. After each lightning strike, the blade would often melt into water inside the scabbard, while the scabbard remained intact. There were also all kinds of gold-plated and silver-inlaid lacquerware; the gold and silver on them all melted and flowed into specially set vessels. After being melted and condensed in this way, and then recast into new knives and swords using mountain refining secrets, or used as talisman 'cinnabar' for drawing talismans, they could all subdue ghosts and evil spirits with invincible efficiency.
The scholar shook his head. "I only came attracted by the temple's reputation, to consult the abbot on Buddhist principles."
The old monk asked, "The Buddha has eighty-four thousand Dharma doors, yet only the Vinaya School requires the most ascetic practice. Since you are not a Buddhist, why are you only interested in our Vinaya School?"
The Vinaya School was known for its strict precepts, practicing the Way with great difficulty, recognized as the most bitter.
"First difficult, then easy; though difficult, it also becomes easy. Moreover, I dare not lie to the great monk. I just practice austerities within the temple; outside the temple gate, there is another method of cultivation."
The old monk nodded upon hearing this. "If one offers incense and bows to the Buddha here, leaving the mountain gate, it is also cultivation."
The scholar asked, "The myriad beings each have their own karmic obstacles. How can one teach them the doctrine of cause and effect and retribution?"
The old monk smiled. "As for cause and effect, ancient sages need not believe it; stubborn fools refuse to believe it; cunning villains dare not believe it; the common man cannot afford not to believe it; it is better to believe it exists than to believe it doesn't."
After lightning and thunder at the horizon, a torrential rain suddenly poured down, as if a huge lake suspended in the sky had sprung a leak, and the great water poured wantonly onto the human world.
The old monk sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and rested.
The scholar gently turned the beads one after another.
The sound of the eaves was like a waterfall; the curtain of rain was like a screen.
Deep water makes no sound; heavy rain does not last long.
After the rain, the sky cleared. Warm sun and gentle wind. The green mountains, sticky with rain, seemed as if green dripped from them.
The old monk opened his eyes and said softly, "In the city, peach and plum blossoms fear wind and rain."
Chen Ping'an smiled knowingly and nodded. "Spring is at the stream's head, where shepherd's purse flowers bloom."
---
In the southern part of the Vase Precious Continent, Chen Ping'an had indeed not traveled much. Aside from walking a stretch of mountain and river with Senior Song once, every time he went south, Chen Ping'an took a ferry to the Old Dragon City. Earlier, he had promised Zhang Caiqin of the Green Cicada Workshop and Hong Yangbo to attend the crown prince's coming-of-age ceremony in the Qingxing Kingdom. Chen Ping'an wanted to learn more about the customs and features of the Qingxing Kingdom. The Dilong Mountain Ferry, where the Green Cicada Workshop was located, belonged to the Liu clan of the Qingxing Kingdom. Because it was south of the Qi Ferry, it had been separated from the Great Li vassal states, and the old state was being reconstituted. The Liu Emperor was now quite old, nearly seventy. It was time to establish the heir and crown prince, to secure the vessel and inherit the lineage. But for some reason, the Liu Emperor had established a young son as the crown prince and, breaking precedent, held a public coming-of-age ceremony for him, which served as a way to pave his future path.
The new national preceptor was an old friend of Hong Yangbo's from the mountains. Zhang Caiqin, the owner of the Green Cicada Workshop and a female sword cultivator, came from a family not in the Qingxing Kingdom but farther south in the Meiji Kingdom, a top-tier noble clan that had produced many generals and ministers.
The Zhang family of Tiancao Commandery in the Meiji Kingdom, formerly in the central-southern part of the Vase Precious Continent, was a very profound immortal family clan. But the Zhang family's reputation in the mountains was greater than among the common people.
One of Chen Ping'an's avatars had previously stayed at an immortal inn opened by the Zhang family within the capital of the Qingxing Kingdom. Such inns naturally prioritized providing landscape gazettes featuring the strange people and extraordinary events of the local immortal mansions. Moreover, in small countries like the Qingxing Kingdom, they often invited literary leaders to write critiques—either monthly evaluations or disparaging comments about neighboring countries. They also copied go game records from national players and stories of love and hate between certain female immortals and handsome talents. In short, it was a hodgepodge of all kinds of content.
After the scattered clouds took on a brocade-like hue, the full moon cast a golden shimmer.
A wooden-faced youth carrying a sword walked alone through the wilderness under the moonlight.
Relying on the moonlight and his extraordinary eyesight, the youth was flipping through a military treatise.
This was a hastily cleaned-up battlefield site.
In earlier years, the Qingxing Kingdom's court had held a Water and Land Dharma Assembly. The silver allocated from the Ministry of Revenue had been embezzled at every level. Of eighty thousand taels of silver, probably less than eight thousand were actually used here.
Heaven didn't care; earth didn't care; the court wanted to care but couldn't; the cultivators did care but ended up taking a big loss.
Thus, abandoned temples and gods, mountain spirits and water monsters, fierce ghosts and evil specters, yin spirits and baleful entities all gathered within this thousand-li radius.
It was said that the Zhang clan of Tiancao Commandery had secretly sent a group of Zhang clan disciples, but they returned defeated with heavy losses, causing even more desperate and vicious characters to gather in this area upon hearing the news.
The youth, wearing straw sandals and carrying a sword on his back, walked to the foot of a solitary tall mountain, closed the book, put it into his sleeve, and began to ascend along a winding path.
Those who climb to the top have a wide view of heaven and earth, and the spring colors of the world can be viewed with ease.
But from the summit, the surrounding sky and earth were shrouded in a gloomy, miasmic atmosphere.
Straining his eyes, in the distant wilderness, white mist stretched wide. Dimly, he could make out one high and one low mountain peak, as if leaning against each other.
In the mountains, there were two firefly-like lights, likely mountain residences brightly lit.
On the ground between the two peaks, a thin red line slowly moved, probably a procession traveling with torches and red lanterns raised high.
By the time the sword-carrying youth stepped onto a flat rocky hilltop at the summit, there were already travelers resting there early. They had set up a fire and a large pot, with boiling water bubbling inside, containing various kinds of offal that looked like animal viscera.
A gaunt figure, back turned to the youth, was crouching on the ground, holding a ladle to taste the soup. He shook his head, then picked up some bottles and jars at his feet and poured them in.
There was also a woman carrying an oilpaper umbrella, facing away from the cliff, her face unseen.
Closest to the youth was a young man with a deathly pale complexion, like a weak, terminally ill person. He had placed a peddler's pole aside, which was full of paper figures in various costumes and paper ingots and silver ingots.
They all seemed completely oblivious to the youth's arrival and did not greet him.
Not long after, four porters arrived carrying a simple sedan chair. They grunted softly in rhythm. On the bamboo sedan sat a middle-aged scholar draped in a crane cloak.
After the sedan was set down, the four sturdy porters stood there, eyes empty.
The scholar had a belt of green jade, hung with various official seals and military tallies, an array of them.
The crane-cloaked scholar caught sight of the handsome youth, a face he didn't recognize. He was slightly surprised. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke in a hoarse voice, "Little brother, are you highly skilled and not afraid of the miasma? Or have you poor luck and wandered into this place by mistake? Or are you a fellow traveler heading for the amorous fortune at the Joy Mountain?"
Unexpectedly, the youth had a very bad temper. Upon hearing this, he only said one word: "Scram."
The scholar was taken aback but smiled casually. "Young men these days have little skill but plenty of temper."
The peddler laughed, whether in warning or with ulterior intent, it was unclear. "If you're not a Zhang clan disciple from Tiancao Commandery, then you're really young and reckless. Talking to our Prefect Bai like that—are you hoping to die early and get reborn soon?"
The crane-cloaked scholar hastily waved his hand. "Little brother, don't be afraid. Don't listen to this sickly crazy man's nonsense. He's full of ghost talk. If you believe him, you'll die."
The youth took a coin from his sleeve, squinted, and raised it to look through the hole at the crane-cloaked scholar. He saw a skeleton. He shifted the coin slightly and observed the peddler. He was a living person.
The peddler gloated and laughed. "Prefect Bai, you've been exposed! Didn't expect this young friend to have such a skill, did you?"
The crane-cloaked scholar laughed. "Traveling far from home, crossing rivers and climbing mountains, everyone has some flea-bitten skill. Otherwise, they wouldn't live long."
Good intentions can't save a dead man.
If this youth, whose identity he didn't yet know, thought the peddler was a good man, then he could just die.
The peddler said, "Young man, since you have such skill, why not take a look at what's being cooked in this pot? And that girl holding the umbrella—don't you want to see if she's good-looking?"
The woman, back turned to everyone, twisted the umbrella handle, and the oilpaper umbrella gently spun.
The sword-carrying youth said, "They have no killing intent toward me. Why should I look? To pick a fight?"
The peddler made a sound of surprise. "Huh, I didn't think you'd know a thing or two about jianghu rules. That means you're definitely not a Zhang clan disciple from Tiancao Commandery. Those guys all look down on everyone else."
The crane-cloaked scholar nodded. "You startled me. I almost thought you were a Zhang kid or a registered immortal master from the Gold Gate Sect, bored out of your mind and coming here to act as Heaven's way."
The man waiting for the pot of intestines to cook through said in a low voice with a laugh, "What's there to be afraid of? The Tiancao Zhang clan just got their noses bloodied here. Heh, broken-hearted man remembers broken-hearted man."
The crane-cloaked scholar sighed. "To force back the Tiancao Zhang clan, the Joy Mountain side also suffered greatly. A friend of mine who served in a mountain god's mansion—poof, gone like that."
The youth asked, "At Joy Mountain, what kind of amorous fortune?"
The crane-cloaked scholar laughed heartily. "Good lad, you're one of us! Your ears perk up at the mention of that."
The youth's face darkened. "Watch your mouth, or you'll be a dog eating a turtle."
The crane-cloaked scholar obviously didn't understand half of that rustic saying.
The peddler, who had traveled far and wide, couldn't help but laugh. "A dog eating a turtle—can't find the head."
The crane-cloaked scholar hesitated for a moment but still resisted the urge to strike. He rubbed his hands and smiled. "A gentleman is magnanimous. This prefect's belly can hold a boat. I won't get angry at a reckless youth."
Whether the youth was a naive greenhorn or truly had backing, in any case, his words were definitely not pleasant to hear. "With you, little lord, I could stomp your balls flat with one kick. Oh, but you're just a skeleton frame—no balls."
The man squatting by the pot reached directly into the boiling pot, pulled out a string of intestines, lifted his head, put them into his mouth, then turned around, greasy-lipped, and said to the crane-cloaked scholar with a smirk, "Prefect Bai, if it were me, I couldn't stand it. I'd have to test this outsider's skills. If he really is a spy from the Tiancao Zhang clan or Gold Gate Sect, you can just toss his corpse to Joy Mountain as a great favor. Wouldn't that be a betrothal gift?"
The woman holding the umbrella turned around. She had no head.
The youth slightly frowned, cupped his hands, and said, "Miss, I apologize. It was unintentional."
The headless woman raised her hand, covering her mouth in a feigned laugh, and lightly shook her shoulders, indicating it was fine.
The man chewed the intestines loudly and asked, "Young man, what's your name?"
"My name is unchanged, and I don't change my surname when I sit. Call me Chen Ren."
"Little hero, isn't the name a bit... hmm?"
Sacrificing oneself for righteousness.
"I think it's fine."
"Since you're not a registered cultivator, what are you doing in this godforsaken place?"
"Touring the mountains and rivers."
The man was stunned.
The peddler sat on the carrying pole, arms crossed. "So you're a wilderness cultivator looking to settle down here with some backing?"
The crane-cloaked scholar smiled. "Not a sword cultivator but carrying a sword—are you a martial artist?"
The youth stared at the so-called Prefect Bai. "Prefect? Which tiny little kingdom's abandoned temple would dare set up its own office? Not afraid of being struck by lightning? Hah, a little ass trying to take a big dump. Careful it doesn't split your asshole and make you fart in your pants."
Not only the crane-cloaked scholar but also the others were all stunned by the youth's words.
Traveling in the jianghu like that—wasn't that a bit much?
The peddler said telepathically, "Everyone, be careful. I just heard a little rumor. The Tiancao Zhang clan produced a female sword immortal, deeply hidden. She only came to light a few years ago. She also has a personal bodyguard with astonishing talent. I don't know his exact age, but he looks young and is already a sword immortal of the Middle Five Realms. The Zhang clan suffered a great loss here last time. Without a doubt, if they come again, either they'll ally with the Gold Gate Sect of the Qingxing Kingdom's national preceptor, or those two sword immortals will come together. Don't tell me this back-burdened youth speaking like he's eaten firecrackers is that Zhang clan bodyguard."
In the world of cultivation, few were not afraid of sword cultivators.
Especially wilderness cultivators and ghost-kind. Once they encountered a sword cultivator, regardless of the opponent's realm, they were in big trouble. As long as the other side didn't deliver a killing blow, they would just try to escape. They would flee and hide.
The crane-cloaked scholar's heart tightened. He complained, "Shi Hu, why didn't you say so earlier!"
The peddler laughed. "Bai Mao, you didn't ask earlier either."
The crane-cloaked scholar asked, "Shi Hu, you have good intelligence. I came here to ask you directly: is it true that among the Joy Mountain mountain god's daughter's dowry is a military treatise?"
The peddler extended his hand. "Same rules."
The crane-cloaked scholar took out two Snowflake Coins from his sleeve and tossed them to the peddler.
The peddler threw the Snowflake Coins directly into his mouth and started chewing loudly. A few strands of white spiritual essence leaked from the corners of his mouth, which he hastily gathered with his hand and slapped back into his mouth. There seemed to be a little residue, so he threw his head back and sucked it all in with a slurp. A look of ecstasy spread across his face. The sickly man's pale countenance visibly reddened.
Bai Mao said solemnly, "Eat and drink your fill. Now can you talk?"
Shi Hu said telepathically, "It can be confirmed that such a military treatise exists, but its quality is hard to say. Some guess it's a Dharma artifact. Bai Mao, you're a skeleton in a grave. In life, you weren't a general leading troops; you were just a pathetic wretch who failed in his duty to guard his territory and was beheaded on the orders of his superior—a mere county magistrate. What use do you have for a military treatise? Wipe your ass?"
Bai Mao adjusted his crane cloak and said coldly, "That's none of your business. Birds have their ways, snakes have their paths. You and I have no grudges. Just go your own way."
Shi Hu nodded. "Each goes his own way. If there's a chance to cooperate, we'll work together."
A strong wind blew across the hilltop. The youth's sleeves fluttered. The sword on his back—the hilt exposed from the scabbard—shook slightly, making a faint sound.
The youth quickly stepped sideways, facing the wind.
The umbrella-holding woman raised her arm as if to shield her forehead.
You, a pure martial artist at only the Fourth Realm, coming to this hilltop—what were you doing?
If you came, come. If you saw the view, leave.
These suspicious characters were busy preparing to attend the Joy Mountain wedding feast. They mistook you for a tough nut and probably wouldn't stop you from going down the mountain.
Besides, Bai Mao deliberately spoke to provoke you earlier, pretending to be wary of you, unwilling to strike—that actually helped you avoid disaster.
But the sword-carrying youth, still unaware of the gravity of the situation, continued on his own: "The Tiancao Zhang clan disciples and the Gold Gate Sect immortal masters—were their techniques impressive? How impressive? Has anyone here experienced them? Tell me."
Having just thrown away two Snowflake Coins, Prefect Bai was in a bad mood. He sneered, "The branch families and direct lines of those two clans—they're all lofty figures in the sky. A pathetic fake sword cultivator like you, stop making a fool of yourself here. Get lost quickly. If you're slow, this prefect will refine you into a porter..."
At the same time, Bai Mao said telepathically, "Chen Ren, get out of here quickly."
Seeing the youth's look of suspicion, the crane-cloaked scholar hastily sent a mental message: "Young man, this peddler and the man at the pot are in collusion. That offal he's boiling—do you really think it's animal viscera? Get out quickly! You fool! In this lawless ghost land, do you really think people are better than ghosts? Those two Snowflake Coins... forget it. You won't escape now. Pay me back in your next life. If they join forces, I'm no match for them. I have no reason to throw away my life for a fool like you."
The peddler stood up. "Chen Ren, although we've never met before tonight, as a senior of the jianghu, I'm going to speak to you from the heart."
The crane-cloaked scholar sighed. After much hesitation, he still didn't plan to act.
This was Shi Hu's catchphrase. When he said "from the heart," he really would rip out someone's heart.
The sword-carrying youth simply reached behind his back, pried off the sword hilt that was stuck in the scabbard with peach gum, and put it into his sleeve. He said with a smile, "Your name is Shi Hu? Watch yourself. Don't seek your own death. I know immortal sword techniques!"
Thus, the youth now carried an empty scabbard on his back.
The headless female ghost let out a faint sigh. At death's door, he still spoke so boldly. Then she wouldn't save this young man. If she saved him this time, given his style—never shedding tears until he saw the coffin—how long could he live in this land where ghosts eat people and people eat ghosts? She couldn't help but wonder: how had this greenhorn managed to walk all the way to this heartland?
For some reason, the peddler's face drastically changed. Just as he was about to speak, a strange phenomenon appeared beyond the mountain—treasure light gleaming, several colored streams tearing the deep night sky apart, exceptionally conspicuous.
In the blink of an eye, they arrived from over ten li away at the hilltop. A pair of teenagers, a young man and a young woman, both looked like flawless jade. The former carried a sword on his back and held a horsewhip, riding a white horse. The latter rode a mythical luan bird.
What a handsome young man with a sword and pearl robe, chasing the wind with a purple luan whip.
Behind them followed a burly man, bare-chested, covered in bright red tattoos. He stepped through the void, swift as wind and lightning, following the two.
The three landed gracefully. The white horse and the green luan each turned into a talisman, which the young man and woman took between their fingers and put into their bosoms.
Just this display of "assets" made the crane-cloaked scholar green with envy. But aside from covetous drool, he didn't forget to retreat sideways, trying to stay as far away from these Qi refiners as possible.
The young woman's gaze was sharp. "What do you say?"
The burly man looked at the crane-cloaked scholar. "A ghost with karma but no sin, with deep obsession after death, erected an illicit shrine, but cannot become a local hero."
His gaze shifted to the sword-carrying youth. "A living person. Looks like a martial artist."
Then he looked at the umbrella-holding woman. "A headless ghost. Autumn equinox day, high noon, killed by an executioner with abundant yang qi."
Finally, he looked at the pot of boiling oil and the man. "A Qi refiner, who enjoys eating human flesh, commits many evils, worse than the tiger's minions haunting the wilds."
The young man sneered. "Then cut him down."
A flash of sword light, and a head rolled off, falling right into the boiling pot. The head bobbed up and down in the scalding water.
The young woman's face was full of disgust. From her sleeve, a brilliant golden light burst forth, smashing the pot and the head together.
With a jingle of bells, the golden light spun and returned to her sleeve, leaving behind a long-lasting trail of golden fireflies in the air.
The burly man then looked at the sickly peddler. "Birds of a feather, jackals of the same ilk. And he's an yao that has taken human form."
The young woman's eyes sparkled. "Leftover from the Barren Wastes?"
The burly man shook his head. "Native yao."
The young woman looked disappointed. No battle merits to exchange.
The young man smiled. "Cut him down again."
The peddler kicked up his carrying pole, throwing it at the young man, then leaped toward the cliff. But an arcing sword light pierced his back, rose again, and cut off his head.
The burly man swung a palm the size of a winnowing basket and turned the peddler's load to powder.
The young man sneered. "A paltry trick. You think you can deceive Heaven and cross the sea?"
The young woman took off a string of golden bells from her waist and gave them a light shake. A wisp of black smoke outside the cliff suddenly dispersed, turning into hundreds of sheets of white paper. The young man pressed his two fingers together and made a slight gesture. The flying sword, as if receiving a command, drew a line of white light in the air outside the cliff, cutting all the white paper into pieces. The black smoke scattered in all directions, quickly gathered again, and, with a faintly discernible face of a ghost immortal, was swiftly drawn into the young woman's sleeve.
For a moment, only the wind could be heard on the hilltop.
The umbrella-holding female ghost also stood up. After a moment's hesitation, she chose to stand by the sword-carrying youth.
The crane-cloaked scholar swallowed his saliva. Since the other side hadn't driven him down the mountain, he planned to beg for mercy.
This little girl was clearly a direct disciple from the Gold Gate Immortal Mansion, qualifying her to have a "Vermilion Soldier" divine general as an attendant.
As for the young man, needless to say, he was clearly a sword immortal!
This was the second time Prefect Bai had seen a sword immortal in his life.
It was still that reckless sword-carrying youth who broke the silence first. He put his hands behind his back, looked at the young man who seemed about his age, nodded, and with an expression of a senior admiring a junior, said gravely, "I didn't expect to meet a fellow traveler in this godforsaken place."
The crane-cloaked scholar, standing at the back, was completely stunned by this youth named Chen Ren. Kid, you really have no shame or fear of death. If you have the nerve to brag, at least don't let your hands shake.
Fortunately, the young sword immortal completely ignored this brainless fool.
The young woman asked softly, "When will Sister Zhang arrive? Will we meet at Joy Mountain? Can the three of us fight our way from the foot of the mountain to those two mountain residences?"
The young man frowned. "My master may not come. So this training trip must be on our own lives."
The young woman's face showed feigned disappointment, but she was secretly delighted.
Inside and outside the high mountain, black clouds joined the bird paths; green cliffs carried the sound of gibbons.
The umbrella-holding female ghost "looked" at this pair of young men and women, whose status was as high as Heaven. But it seemed that in the human world, love always follows the same pattern—those on high look down.
She liked him, he liked her. Who knows whom she might like?
The crane-cloaked scholar groaned inwardly. What a mess: one trouble after another.
Not only had three ferocious dragons from across the river arrived on the hilltop, but now the local snakes from Joy Mountain were also on their way. Was a bloody confrontation about to happen here?
That sword-carrying youth was still spouting shameless words: "Prefect Bai, just rest assured. As long as I'm here, the sky won't fall."
The crane-cloaked scholar smiled bitterly. "Then I thank you."
The sword-carrying youth nodded. "I, Chen, always get along with your surnamed Bai. We're brothers. No need for thanks."