Chapter 1025: May the Green Emperor Always Be the Master

Chapter 1025: May the Green Emperor Always Be the Master

Last year, this year, next year, springs come and go, flowers bloom and fall, always the East Lord in charge.

A white-clad youth walked alone on the official road outside the capital, clutching in each hand a large bundle of stinky tofu skewered on bamboo sticks, his mouth full of red chili oil from eating.

The youth chewed the stinky tofu noisily, then suddenly looked up at the sky canopy, his cheeks bulging, and exclaimed with admiration, "Having received the true person's good news, there is no doubt between the human world and the heavens."

What had been a sky of sparse stars and a bright moon instantly transformed into a galaxy of brilliant splendor, as if the bright moon had temporarily abdicated to a Milky Way. Yet this anomaly was fleeting.

Undoubtedly, the imperial observatories of various countries had already captured this strange celestial phenomenon. Unless unexpected, it would soon cause chaos, destined to be a sleepless night.

Cui Dongshan curled his lips. "The newest fourteenth realm, just like that, is it done?"

He guessed that the Old Scholar had helped Yu the Old Immortal quite a bit, otherwise, according to Cui Dongshan's deductions, the opportunity for Yu Xuan the Talisman to merge with the Dao would have come only after the Three Teachings Patriarchs scattered their paths.

He raised the stinky tofu in his hand and wrote a character "kao" in the air.

Cui Dongshan withdrew his hand, quickly ate a few more pieces of stinky tofu, threw away the bamboo sticks, freed up a hand, and flicked his snow-white sleeve, which he called the "place to beat stupidity."

Out tumbled a Golden Core Earth Immortal, none other than that Longzhou Daoist from the Yellow Flower Temple in the Mirage City, Liu Mao.

With mountains and rivers stretching far, and the long night ahead, there was still a considerable distance to their destination. He needed someone to chat with to pass the time.

Liu Mao, having been thrown out of the sleeve, stood firm, unsure of his exact location, and didn't ask a single question.

Cui Dongshan raised his hand. "Want some stinky tofu?"

Liu Mao shook his head. "Not used to the taste."

Cui Dongshan complained, "Spoiled rotten, soft and tender, just picky."

Liu Mao dared not retort.

If that young Hidden Officer was unfathomably deep, with some traceable threads of thought, making communication quite taxing on the brain, then this Sect Leader Cui, who claimed to be the other's student, was simply an incomprehensible madman. Even if Chen Ping'an spoke with hidden meanings and harsh words, at least Chen Ping'an wouldn't punch him for no reason. But Cui Dongshan would, and without a word of disagreement, he'd resort to fists and feet, calling it "enlightenment through push and knock."

Cui Dongshan chewed his stinky tofu, shaking his head. "Delicious, delicious. Yummy, yummy."

Liu Mao silently walked beside him, having to admit that this seclusion to form his core had a certain degree of certainty. But if it weren't for this white-clad youth's "interference" during the seclusion, Liu Mao didn't think he could have achieved a "third-grade core," gaining that unexpected and previously unhoped-for core chamber phenomenon: purple vapor swirling, the core chamber becoming a library of books, with fifty thousand scrolls on the shelves.

It was said in the mountains that the legendary first-grade core was a sure ticket to the Flying Ascension realm. Examples included Zhang Tianlai of Dragon Tiger Mountain, the Fire Dragon True Person of Prostrate Peak, and Wei She of the Aiai Prefecture who styled himself "Master of Seventy-Two Peaks." However, most Flying Ascension realm grandmasters had formed a second-grade core in their early years, so a third-grade core was still a dream for many Earth Immortals.

As repayment, Liu Mao needed to assist the first sect leader of the Green Firmament Sword Sect in quietly completing a task: creating a seismograph capable of accurately measuring the changes in the mountains and rivers of the Parasol Leaf Continent.

Liu Mao had no choice but to agree. Yet wasn't this grand feat also something he had longed for but could only ever be a castle in the air on his own?

Cui Dongshan asked casually, "That chicken-beak brush you improved, even I find it pleasing. For the second batch, has your Emperor found a buyer?"

Liu Mao answered truthfully, "His Majesty's plans are unknown."

Earlier, the impoverished Great Spring Dynasty had established a new Stationery Office under the Ministry of Works. Yao Jinzhi, intentionally or not, had the factory built near the Lotus Bridge, close to the Ministry of Revenue's Treasure Bureau and the Granary Office, only a few steps from Liu Mao's Yellow Flower Temple. Last time the Emperor personally visited the temple and spoke with Liu Mao. Not long after the Emperor returned to the palace, Liu Mao was given a noble and somewhat powerful official position, along with a secret patronage role in the Ministry of Justice. With Liu Mao's help, the Stationery Office quickly became the court's cash cow, a money pot.

The main product was that "imperial" chicken-beak brush, now sold far and wide to mountain immortal mansions and various nations across the continent. It was a highly profitable venture that solved the Great Spring Yao clan's urgent financial problems.

Cui Dongshan laughed. "Selling something worth ten taels of silver for the price of a Snowflake Coin—even Mr. Fan of the Merchant's Society and Zhang Zhi of the Baofu Studio would probably drool when they see it, right?"

Liu Mao hesitated, then held back.

Wasn't the biggest contributor your own teacher?

For the first batch of chicken-beak brushes, the Great Spring Yao clan no longer needed to find buyers, because the Jade Gui Sect had already pre-ordered a full thirty thousand brushes, to be bundled with the Falling Plum Notes produced by the Jiang clan's Cloud Grotto Blessed Land. A single chicken-beak brush, under the guise of "imperial" production, cost one Snowflake Coin—a full thousand taels of silver! Yet the actual material cost was around seven or eight taels, maybe adding some cloud patterns and auspicious words, plus the labor of skilled craftsmen, it wouldn't exceed ten taels.

No wonder Liu Mao was stunned when he heard the price.

The court's pricing was truly too black-hearted. But since it was fleecing mountain immortals and wealthy nobles, it didn't harm the poor. Besides, Liu Mao, as a temple abbot and former prince, had completely cut ties with his past identity. Especially since he had just formed his Golden Core and become a legendary Land Immortal, he had no more interest in worldly disputes. Or rather, circumstances forced him to protect himself and make choices.

Cui Dongshan finished the remaining stinky tofu, threw away the bamboo sticks like hidden weapons, shouting "swoosh swoosh swoosh" as he did.

Then he belched, twisted his wrist, and produced a bamboo instrument. Grinning, he asked, "Immortal Longzhou, can you handle this?"

Liu Mao nodded. With his broad knowledge, he naturally recognized this "bamboo tube," commonly known as a fish drum, also called a Dao tube in Taoism, slightly different from the fish drum. In the past, cultured gentlemen of the Great Spring court also liked to play with this, beating the Dao tube, singing Daoist songs, reciting the Dao De Jing and Huang Ting. When Liu Mao was still the Great Spring prince, he was renowned for his elegance.

Cui Dongshan began to beat the Dao tube himself, deliberately playing out of tune and wrong rhythm, making the expert Liu Mao find it nothing but noise.

Liu Mao had a compulsive personality, so he endured it with difficulty. Back when Chen Ping'an was in the temple's study, even the wrong placement of books made Liu Mao uncomfortable.

On this desolate official road, Cui Dongshan hopped and howled, chatting with Liu Mao. "The Great Sui Gao clan's reign lasted one thousand two hundred years. A full one thousand two hundred years! Back then, the Vase Prefecture was small, and nobody paid much attention. But if it were known, it would scare people to death. In the history of the Central Continent, how many dynasties lasted that long? The Great Sui Gao clan is a neighbor of the Great Li dynasty. Do you know where the Gao clan's dragon-rising land is?"

Liu Mao said, "Yuyang Commandery. Historical records show that the locals have loved fish drums since ancient times."

Cui Dongshan gave Liu Mao a thumbs up, exclaiming, "Useless knowledge, but you sure know a lot of it."

Liu Mao was silent.

Cui Dongshan laughed. "If I get the chance, I'll definitely introduce you to the current Great Sui Emperor and Yu Lu of the Lu clan. The three of you have similar backgrounds and circumstances—brothers in misfortune. When you get together, you'll have plenty to talk about. Get drunk, share your sorrows, and you'll definitely hug each other and cry, boohoo waa waa, making onlookers feel sad too."

One was a deposed crown prince, burdened with half the nation's martial destiny, reduced to a stray dog who dared not even keep his surname. Yu Lu—Yu Lu—the remnant of Lu.

The new Great Sui Emperor Gao Xuan had excellent cultivation aptitude and profound fortune. Otherwise, in Li Zhu Cave Heaven, he wouldn't have been able to "purchase" the golden carp and the Dragon King basket from Li Er. Back then, due to the alliance with the Great Li Song clan, Gao Xuan had to go as a hostage to study at the Linlu Academy on Piyun Mountain in Dragon Spring Commandery. Because he was groomed as crown prince and heir, he was forced by Confucian temple rules to sit on the dragon throne and be emperor, cutting his own lifespan—essentially a form of "suicide."

As for Liu Mao beside him, his luck was poor, his fate tortuous, and he had no choice but to take the path of cultivation.

If it were possible, Liu Mao would surely trade a future Dao achievement for a dragon robe, just to be emperor for sixty years.

Each had their desires, each had their unfulfilled wishes.

Liu Mao said calmly, "Then I'll trouble Sect Leader Cui with the introduction."

Cui Dongshan put away the bamboo Dao tube, returning it to his sleeve, and rubbed his chin.

Back then, when his teacher's wife Ning Yao entered Li Zhu Cave Heaven, there was a seemingly senseless and insidious sneak attack.

To this day, the source had not been traced. This was a matter that irked Cui Dongshan every time he thought about it.

That old turtle might have guessed, but deliberately didn't say. Qi Jingchun might have calculated it, but likewise never told his teacher.

The teacher must care most, yet after all these years, he never mentioned a word about it to anyone.

Yuyang fish drum, the Huangting Kingdom, a vassal of the Great Sui dynasty.

Cui Dongshan sighed mournfully, scratching his head vigorously.

In the corner of Liu Mao's eye, this white-clad youth had a unique bearing.

Seemingly relaxed and lazy, like a true person in the form of dissolution. Occasionally absent-minded, as if losing something, as if pondering.

Cui Dongshan stood on tiptoe, looking into the distance. "Daoist Longzhou, we need to hurry."

Liu Mao nodded. After forming his core, a Qi Practitioner could shrink earth veins, crossing mountains and rivers as if walking through field ridges and ditches.

To be honest, if he hadn't been trapped in Cui Dongshan's sleeve after becoming an Earth Immortal, only occasionally let out to breathe like tonight, Liu Mao would have long wanted to find a quiet place to practice and display various Earth Immortal divine abilities.

Shrinking earth to walk mountains and rivers, stepping on void to chase sun and moon, ascending to heaven in broad daylight.

But Cui Dongshan neither shrank earth nor rode the wind. Instead, he used a clumsy method that made Liu Mao laugh and cry: the Horse Armor Art, a quick travel spell commonly used by cultivators in the lower five realms.

Liu Mao watched as Cui Dongshan solemnly wrote the name of some ancient god on his forehead, then crouched down, tied a red talisman strip to his leg, stood up, shook his wrists, and jumped a few times vigorously.

Then Cui Dongshan, from that snow-white sleeve that seemed like a "treasure chest," pulled out a talisman horse. When it landed, it became a pure white divine steed. "Daoist Longzhou, what are you standing there for? Mount up! This is the famous 'Night-Shining Jade Lion Horse' often seen in martial arts tales! From head to tail over ten feet, from hoof to withers eight feet tall, extraordinary divine, able to travel a thousand miles during the day and eight hundred at night! Our realms are too shabby; we have to rely on external objects to travel. If our Dao arts aren't enough, money can make up for it."

As he spoke, the white-clad youth rushed forward, shouting with laughter, "Off to ride the clouds and mists!"

Liu Mao mounted the talisman horse. Man and horse, on the post road, moved like thunder, their forms blurred, stretching out like a white ribbon.

Cui Dongshan ran wildly, waving his hands, moving like the wind. "Cloud Rock Kingdom! Ha! Shao Yunyan! Our Sword Immortal Shao really ought to come and visit this place."

Liu Mao realized they were in the Cloud Rock Kingdom.

Afterwards, Cui Dongshan entered a county town, within the capital region of Cloud Rock Kingdom. In this Red County, which had as many as six county commandants, Cui Dongshan put away his mystical gear, retrieved the talisman horse from Liu Mao, and familiar as an old hand, wove through streets and alleys, finally leading Liu Mao to a closed bookshop. The shop was arranged with a storefront in front and a workshop behind.

Almost the entire street was bookshops. Cui Dongshan stood at the door and asked, "Do you know why the entire capital region of Cloud Rock Kingdom escaped the calamity of war?"

Liu Mao shook his head. "I don't know."

Down in the mortal world, some powerful dynasties often liked to compile massive book series containing tens of thousands of volumes, as a symbol of clean governance and peaceful times.

For instance, when the Great Spring dynasty was still surnamed Liu, they compiled a vast, monumental work. Prince Liu Mao was the actual chief editor behind the scenes.

The Cloud Rock Kingdom's capital, however, became a paradise that miraculously escaped the war from start to finish. After restoration, it needed almost no reconstruction.

As for why Cloud Rock Kingdom escaped this disaster, mountain immortals across the continent had various opinions. For the Cloud Rock Qin clan, it was naturally the manifestation of their ancestors.

Cui Dongshan rubbed his hands together and smiled. "Poverty doubts narrow lanes have little spring, nobility thinks wealthy homes have the brightest moon. The book city never sleeps. Come on, go inside and see. I'll broaden your horizons."

In this Cloud Rock Kingdom, not only did the government print books on a large scale, but private engraving and commercial publishing also flourished.

Take this unassuming shop, for example. A rough estimate suggested that the warehouse held over ninety thousand carved woodblocks.

Cui Dongshan clasped his hands behind his head and chuckled. "If not a scholarly family, then a hereditary official one. The literary aura is dense, flourishing from this point. Sometimes cassia, sometimes orchid, sometimes shoots, sometimes seedlings. Heroes and worthies in droves, the fragrance of books unending."

"I need to inform the bookshop owner that there's been a thief!"

"Such a chivalrous heart, moving and tragic."

Liu Mao just kept his mouth shut, having learned to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to Cui Dongshan's absurd antics and strange words.

Cui Dongshan gathered all those woodblocks into his sleeve, then told Liu Mao to wait there a moment, saying he needed to visit a future guest elder of their sect.

The white-clad youth walked alone down the street.

In the sky, the rabbit flew and the crow moved; on earth, past and present unfolded.

May the Green Emperor always be the master, never let fallen flowers scatter on the earth.

In an old mansion's ancestral hall, two portraits hung on the wall, without names written.

On the shrine, besides an incense burner, several beautifully bound ancient books were offered, wrapped in green and white silk.

A middle-aged man, unremarkable in appearance, wore an unusual outfit: a multi-colored garment of green, red, moonlight white, and gray-black.

After offering incense and inserting three sticks into the burner, he spoke without turning around, his expression calm. "Since you are a cultivator who has taken to the mountains, why come down to the mortal world to be a thief?"

From the roof beam, a head popped out. "A gentleman on the beam is still a gentleman, right?"

Hidden there was a youth with a square face, dressed in white. After being discovered, he rolled and fell to the ground.

As the white-clad youth landed, he seemed to sprain his ankle, his face first tensing, then unable to bear the pain, he suddenly lifted his leg and hugged his knee, standing on one leg like a golden rooster, howling loudly.

The scholar frowned and warned, "Silence."

The square-faced youth patted his belly. "A bit hungry. Any food here? Plain rice is fine, no need for wine and dishes. I'm the most adaptable person."

The scholar remained silent, just quietly watching this unidentified uninvited guest.

The youth grinned. "But preferably rice cooked with firewood that has endured hard labor, like dismantled old cart wheels. Do you happen to have any here?"

The scholar narrowed his eyes, his face darkening, staring fixedly at this seemingly reckless youth.

But the white-clad youth clasped his hands behind his back and looked at one of the portraits on the wall. "Oh, what a coincidence! It turns out you're enshrining Mr. Gong Zeng, such a high official. As for this other person's identity, let me guess."

"It's said that good paper can last a thousand years, but what's the reality? Improper storage of books, insect damage, mold—these are minor calamities. A bookhouse catching fire, being lost during transit, used as burial goods by pedantic scholars—these are medium calamities. But war and government orders to destroy banned books—these are the great calamities for books."

As he spoke, his gaze shifted down to the ancient books on the table. "Every ancient book that manages to be passed down for centuries must be protected by ghosts and gods, right?"

He then withdrew his gaze, turned to the scholar, and smiled. "You are truly a meritorious official. You've at least preserved a portion of the literary fortune of the Parasol Leaf Continent."

The scholar said self-deprecatingly, "Just self-preservation, not meritorious."

Cui Dongshan nodded. "Of course, that's just a polite remark. My teacher taught me that sweet words outside the door can be money."

Cui Dongshan nodded to himself. "When out and about, helping others a bit, lending a hand—your labor costs nothing, so why not?"

The scholar curled his lips. "It seems you have a good teacher."

"Having immortals and buddhas at home, daily life contains true Dao. Like entering an orchid room, a treasury of rare books, being immersed in it—even if not becoming a sage, one can become virtuous."

The white-clad youth, hands on his hips, laughed heartily. "My teacher also heard those free-of-charge truths from the elders back home."

The scholar said, "If you're done talking, then I'll have to show you out."

Cui Dongshan waved his hand. "Not yet, still early. When it comes to merits, I judge only actions, not intentions. If we judged intentions throughout the ages, there would be no perfect people."

"It's like buying meat from the butcher: put it on the scale, full weight, one takes the money, fair trade, the other takes the meat."

"Only when discussing scholars' studies do we need to judge both actions and intentions."

The scholar, hearing the strange outlander's strange words, finally couldn't help but ask, "Who are you to judge rewards and punishments here?"

Cui Dongshan blinked. "He came here once. You've seen him too, right?"

The scholar laughed. "Nonsense, headless and brainless. What are you talking about, friend?"

Cui Dongshan flicked his sleeve and complained, "We are both scholars. Food can be eaten carelessly, but words cannot be spoken carelessly. I warn you not to speak recklessly. I have a bad temper. Be careful not to make your words come true—then you really will be headless and brainless."

The scholar chuckled. "Whatever divine being you are, let's speak openly. Tell me, what business do you have with me?"

Because of his Dao foundation, although he could completely ignore fighting skills, he wasn't afraid of entanglement with a grand cultivator. If he couldn't win, he could escape.

Especially in this current era, with the Parasol Leaf Continent back under the control of the Confucian Temple.

He didn't think a peak cultivator would dare to act recklessly in the capital region of Cloud Rock Kingdom now.

The youth pulled a jade and bamboo folding fan from his sleeve, twisted it with two fingers, and snapped it open. On the fan surface were written four large characters: "Win People with Virtue."

"Today's visit is just a small request. I want to negotiate with you."

"Speak, friend."

"Come work with me from now on. I guarantee that with your Dao foundation, you'll eat well and drink well."

"And if I refuse?"

The youth turned the fan over, showing four more characters: "If Not Submit, Beat to Death."

The scholar was momentarily speechless. After a long silence, he said coldly, "You have quite a big mouth, friend."

Cui Dongshan gently waved the bamboo fan. "When he stood here back then, did he say anything?"

The scholar countered, "Are you a gentleman or worthy from some academy?"

Cui Dongshan's eyes turned mournful, as if terribly wronged. "For no reason, why are you insulting me?"

The scholar squinted. "You do have a sense of humor, friend."

"You really don't recognize me?"

"No, and I don't want to."

"I am Dongshan!"

The scholar was startled. Dongshan? The Cui Dongshan of the Green Firmament Sword Sect?

A cultivator who could track all the way here certainly wasn't an ordinary Qi Practitioner.

That temporary Founder Hall established in the Cloud Rock Kingdom's capital on the day of the Dragon Raising Its Head, the second day of the second month, specifically for excavating a major river, had only two seats. The joint initiators—such as the Jade Gui Sect, the patron Wang Ji, and an elder with extremely high seniority but unknown abroad—were few.

And of course, there was the newly emerged Green Firmament Sword Sect, represented by Spring Prefecture's helm Zhong Qiu and Scenery Star Peak's peak master Cao Qinglang.

For some reason, the chief patron, Great Sword Immortal Mi Yu, had yielded his Founder Hall seat to the young Cao Qinglang. What arrangement was the Green Firmament Sword Sect planning?

Did they not care about a Great Sword Immortal from the Sword Qi Great Wall?

Would Mi Yu, nicknamed "Mi the Waist-Cutter," not hold a grudge?

Cui Dongshan closed his folding fan and said with a smile, "As long as you accept my invitation, I can do one thing for you in return, as a greeting gift. Trust me, it's something you've yearned for for thousands of years. I'll definitely fulfill your wish."

"Oh? Can Sect Leader Cui read minds?"

"Mind reading? No such thing. I'm just good at guessing people's thoughts."

This scholar of Cloud Rock Kingdom, manifested from literary fortune, laughed. "Let's hear it."

Cui Dongshan said, "I'll take you to the Confucian Temple in the Central Continent someday to debate scholarship with the Classicist Xiping."

"Really?"

"Really, absolutely!"

Cui Dongshan beat his chest loudly. "My teacher and the Classicist Xiping are close friends who regretted not meeting earlier—sworn friends!"

The scholar pondered for a moment and said, "Let me consider it."

Cui Dongshan nodded. "You should."

The scholar suddenly asked, "Aren't you afraid that I might have colluded with him?"

Cui Dongshan sighed. "You're just a bit player; you overestimate yourself. The reason I asked is curiosity: when he stood here that day, did he silently weep, crying his heart out?"

Cui Dongshan quickly defended himself. "Don't be mad. I'm blunt, but I have a sharp tongue but a soft heart. Don't believe me?"

The white-clad youth breathed out, filling the air with the smell of stinky tofu.

The scholar was speechless.

Cui Dongshan tapped his shoulder lightly with the fan and chuckled.

Zhou Mi of the Barbarian Literary Sea suffered from having no one in the world who understood him.

It was said—only said—that many years ago, the departed Hao Ran scholar Jia Sheng had stood on the Inverted Suspended Mountain for a long, long time, alone, gazing north at his homeland.

Cui Dongshan suddenly raised his hand to cover his mouth. "Since you're one of us now, I have to tattle: a thief stole your woodblocks! How hateful! Let's go beat him up?!"

---

In the Yu Xuan Kingdom's capital, Yongjia County.

In an alley, a Daoist suddenly stopped, looked into a small courtyard, and softly exclaimed.

In the courtyard, a lean youth who was weaving a winnowing basket by moonlight, with sharp ears, first startled. When he turned to look at the alley, over the low wall, he saw that familiar face. The dark-skinned boy was full of surprise, unable to believe it, and murmured, "Daoist Wu?"

The Daoist stroked his beard and smiled. "We meet again. Pure coincidence."

The boy quickly put down the half-woven basket, stood up, came to the low wall, and asked with surprise, "Daoist Wu, what brings you here?"

In the dead of night, late at night, could Daoist Wu have come to admire the moon?

The Daoist looked around and said in a deep voice, "Recently, an evil creature has been haunting the capital. It has deep cultivation, runs rampant without restraint, and is skilled at hiding and escaping. Tonight, I was tracking its trail and ended up here. But it escaped me. The creature dares to flaunt itself so brazenly under the emperor's nose, in the land of the capital, defying the law. Naturally, I cannot tolerate it. Ordinary cultivators with a mere smattering of techniques can't handle it. Hah, but since it ran into me, it must have forgotten to check its almanac before descending the mountain."

The boy was confused.

Seeing this, the Daoist changed to common street speech: "There's a demon that has become a spirit, come down from the mountain to harm people. I'm here to catch the demon and act for heaven."

The boy's eyes instantly lit up. As he had guessed! This Daoist Wu, who looked so immortal and refined, wasn't just a fortune-teller for money; he was truly an immortal who could vanquish demons!

The yellow mud courtyard wall wasn't high. They spoke across it.

Inside the yard, the boy was short and thin; in the alley, the Daoist was tall and slender, a head higher.

The boy asked worriedly, in a low voice, "Daoist Wu, if that monster escaped far away, will it harm people?"

"Now that I've appeared and exchanged blows with it, it knows my power. It won't dare show its face in the capital tonight. It'll just find a place to hide obediently."

The Daoist smiled freely. "Besides, it only escaped my sight temporarily. I have some unique immortal methods that guarantee to catch it before dawn. Ten out of ten. This is called 'can escape the first day of the month, but not the fifteenth.'"

The boy secretly rubbed his hand behind his back on his linen clothes, gathered his courage, and said bashfully, "Daoist Wu, would you like to come inside?"

The Daoist hummed in agreement. "Alright, I'll have a drink of water. No need to boil it. If there's a water vat, just scoop a ladle of well water."

The boy opened the courtyard door and led the Daoist in. He first invited Daoist Wu to sit on a stool, then immediately went to the kitchen to scoop water from the vat. The Daoist wasn't fussy; instead of sitting on the stool, he directly sat down on the steps, gently reminding the boy to just use the gourd ladle, no need for a bowl. When the boy trotted over, the Daoist took the old gourd ladle, drank deeply, wiped his mouth, returned the ladle, and let out a long breath. "Thank you. A ladle of water is enough."

After the boy put the ladle back in the kitchen and returned, the Daoist laughed. "By the way, I never asked your name."

The boy also didn't sit on the stool; he followed Daoist Wu's example and sat on the steps, leaning sideways, and answered respectfully, "Daoist Wu, my name is Bai Yun."

The Daoist nodded. "Surname Bai, given name Yun? Indeed a very memorable name."

In Lu Chen's "Heaven and Earth Chapter," there was a line: "After a thousand years, weary of the world, ascend to immortality, ride those white clouds to the imperial homeland." Perhaps this was truly a case of no coincidence without books?

The boy hesitated for a moment, then said in a low voice, "I don't dare lie to you, Daoist. Bai Yun is just my current name. I originally had the surname Ning, called Ning Ji."

The Daoist was visibly surprised, uttered an "oh," and smiled. "The surname Ning? A very good surname."

After a moment of silence, the Daoist praised, "If celestial patterns are disordered and wind and fog untimely, only cultivating virtue and self-criticism can achieve Ning Ji. Ning Ji, a good name. Besides its literal auspicious meaning, the one who gave you this name must have placed great hopes on you."

The boy was stunned, then stiffened his face and looked down. But soon he looked up again, smiled at the learned Daoist Wu.

In the depths of this boy named Ning Ji's eyes, there was both a kind of self-pitying sadness and a hidden, unspoken gratitude.

Chen Ping'an patted the boy's shoulder and laughed. "But I think giving you this name probably didn't have such refined expectations. It's just the literal meaning—just that—hoping you would be free from illness and disaster, peaceful and stable."

Someone who had once been young, when seeing certain youths again, saw himself.

Ning Ji, who had barely been able to keep his composure, burst into tears upon hearing this, bowed his head, and nodded vigorously.

The youth's sorrow and longing, the moonlight flooding the ground, flowing like water.

---

The night mist was like gauze, hazy, when the outline of a mountain lord appeared. A pair of eyes the size of fists glowed eerily, captivating the soul.

This mountain lord walked without sound, huge in size, its teeth taller than a man, big as an ox.

Generally, there were many snakes in the mountains, but the patrol walkers of this temple never saw any tigers or serpents.

Fortunately, the temple's patrol walkers didn't see this. The mountain monks within the temple were all ordinary mortals who hadn't cultivated immortals arts; otherwise, they would have been scared out of their wits.

Yuan Huajing carried a cotton bag and said to the mountain lord, "You go back first. I'll tell Mountain Lord Chen about that matter. But whether or not it succeeds depends entirely on your own fortune."

Famous mountains with large temples often had similar tales of fish and dragons listening to the sutras.

The mountain lord bowed its head to the ground, then turned and left.

Yuan Huajing had been using this small mountain temple as a place to relax and escape the heat, having known this mountain lord, which had never been able to transform, for many years.

For centuries, the mountain monks had never seen it in their lifetimes.

Only a long-standing local chronicle remained: a mountain spirit had specially been the dharma protector for a virtuous monk. When the monk's mind was unsettled, it would roar to warn him.

Yuan Huajing looked toward the mountain gate, took a step, and his form dispersed like mist and clouds. When it gathered again, he was already inside the temple, in a quiet, elegant guest room where a lamp still burned.

The young Hidden Officer, appearing as an elderly scholar with white temples, held a Daoist scroll in his hand. He opened the door and laughed. "How did Sword Immortal Yuan come down the mountain?"

Actually, the two had talked quite a bit earlier that day in the pavilion by Soaring Immortal Cliff.

Yuan Huajing extended the bag to Chen Ping'an. "It's a local product: three catties of Solomon's seal. A small token of respect, not worth mentioning."

"A good thing. I've been wanting to dig some up on the mountain, but I kept putting it off until now."

Chen Ping'an didn't stand on ceremony. He took the bag from Yuan Huajing, lifted it, and weighed it. "With the bag, two catties and nine ounces."

Solomon's seal could replenish Qi, calm the five organs, and with long use, lighten the body and prolong life. Therefore, in medical texts, it was also known as "Wu Ji Zhi" (Earthly Branch Mushroom), because it obtained the essence of the earth's Kun trigram. Among mountain Qi Practitioners, it was also called "Immortal's surplus grain" and was a common medicinal delicacy for registered immortal masters. However, the medicinal properties of Solomon's seal varied greatly by region. Chen Ping'an was actually familiar with it; back in his hometown's mountains, it wasn't rare, so he was more accustomed to calling it "Mi Fu" (rice jerky) and regarding it as a poverty-alleviating herb.

Yuan Huajing got straight to the point. "No one visits the Three Treasures without a reason. I've come down the mountain tonight to ask a favor."

Chen Ping'an raised the bag of Solomon's seal in his hand and laughed. "With presents in hand, people are short-tongued. Just speak. If I can help, I will."

Yuan Huajing said, "There is a tiger in the mountains. It has possessed consciousness for centuries but has never been able to transform. These few catties of Solomon's seal were dug up by it. I'm just helping to pass them on."

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment, then smiled. "Such a mountain spirit, a divine being, yet stuck in its physical form, reduced to oddity. No wonder it's anxious. Desperate illness leads to desperate remedies."

Yuan Huajing patiently waited for the answer.

Chen Ping'an raised the Daoist scroll in his hand, which could also be called a concise herbal medicine book. Since ancient times, Daoism and medicine were not separate.

"Since we happen to be connected by fate."

"I'll help with this favor."

Yuan Huajing nodded and was about to leave.

Chen Ping'an smiled and stopped him. "Since you're here, don't rush off. We're both free anyway. Let's chat a bit more."

Without waiting for a reply, he led Yuan Huajing over the threshold. Chen Ping'an placed the book on the table, moved a chair for Yuan Huajing. Yuan Huajing looked at the extremely simple room, much like his own lodging.

Chen Ping'an laughed. "That Zhou Haijing who completed the Earthly Branches—she's given you no small headache, right?"

Yuan Huajing, thinking of this female grandmaster, was indeed troubled. But strangely, with Zhou Haijing's addition to the Earthly Branches branch, the two previously distant peaks now seemed to share a common enemy.

Chen Ping'an asked casually, "If I remember correctly, you were once a Correct Character Editor in the Great Li's Palace Secretariat?"

Yuan Huajing said indifferently, "Just a family arrangement. Poetry and prose are trivial paths, empty matters on paper. They are of no use to people's hearts and customs. A strong man does not engage in such."

Chen Ping'an clicked his tongue. "Listen to that. That's a bit asking for a beating. Easy for you to say. Why don't you go out and shout that once?"

Yuan Huajing just smiled.

He suddenly remembered—this young Hidden Officer, the closed-door disciple of the Wen Sheng lineage, didn't even seem to be a tribute scholar or a xiucai?

Chen Ping'an asked, "What made you first think of coming here to seek peace and quiet?"

Yuan Huajing, with a hint of self-mockery, gave a vague answer that said nothing. "The devil made me do it."

Then Yuan Huajing asked back, "Are you here to seek something?"

Chen Ping'an looked puzzled. "Why do you ask that?"

Yuan Huajing glanced at this seemingly sincere fellow, silently fuming. Why pretend? You, the young mountain lord of the Fallen Mountain, are someone who never lets go of a hawk without seeing a rabbit. You don't get up early without profit.

Chen Ping'an laughed. "Could it be that Sword Immortal Yuan thinks what I seek conflicts with the purpose of your visit here? Unable to fight me, you had to come down the mountain tonight, both to help that fellow Daoist in the mountains seek a method of form liberation, and also to probe me. If the answer is certain, then you'll have to give up. If not, you still have a chance."

Yuan Huajing nodded and frankly admitted, "I did have that intention."

Chen Ping'an said, "You certainly wouldn't believe that I seek nothing here. But no matter what you think, I only treat people with sincerity. There is nothing outside the mind. What I seek is indeed not outside myself."

For a moment, both were silent.

Chen Ping'an spoke first, asking curiously, "What kind of treasure is so important that Sword Immortal Yuan is so concerned about?"

Noticing Chen Ping'an's strange expression, Yuan Huajing said irritably, "Whether as a son of the Yuan clan or as a sword cultivator, I have no reason to take without asking or to seize by force."

Chen Ping'an nodded. Yuan Huajing did have this pride and arrogance.

Yuan Huajing suddenly asked, "Have you met that Chicken Soup Monk, the monk Shenqing?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "When I attended the Confucian Temple conference earlier, I saw this Buddhist dragon-elephant from afar, but we didn't talk."

"Have you heard of this Buddhist dragon-elephant's three dharma protections?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. He really was hearing about this secret for the first time. Seeing Yuan Huajing's suspicious look, he had to explain with a smile, "Believe it or not. Over the years, I've indeed learned quite a bit about Buddhist koans, but such hidden matters in the mountains I haven't really investigated."

Yuan Huajing, half believing, roughly described the three dharma protections. The monk Shenqing's first protection was the white horse carrying sutras, the transmission of Buddhism to the east.

The second was in the Azure Underworld, where there was once a far-reaching debate between Buddhism and Daoism. Many Daoist disciples lost the debate and, according to the agreement, shaved their heads on the spot, changed allegiance, and converted to Buddhism.

The third protection of the Dao was at the Poxi Mountain's Dongshan Temple, which "opened wide the dharma gate without discrimination," secretly escorting a young monk down the mountain to a ferry.

Upon hearing this, Chen Ping'an nodded lightly.

Yuan Huajing asked, "Since you are proficient in epigraphy and seal carving, you surely know that there is a vermilion-colored rubbing of a seal in the world with no characters."

Chen Ping'an said solemnly, "Of course. That is the 'waist stone for pounding rice' of a certain Chan patriarch. When he first went up the mountain to seek the dharma from the Fifth Patriarch, he entered the temple as a worker pounding rice. Because he was frail, the Sixth Patriarch had to use the waist stone to pound rice."

Yuan Huajing didn't hide it and directly revealed a truth. "This rubbing is right in this temple."

This matter was extremely secretive. There was no official record in the Great Li archives, but when Grand Preceptor Cui once casually mentioned it, the speaker had no intention, but the listener had a mind. Yuan Huajing wanted to try his luck here.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Does it have something to do with your hidden destiny flying sword?"

Yuan Huajing was extremely frank. "Not just some relation. It's the key point."

Chen Ping'an was slightly surprised, but since it concerned Yuan Huajing's Dao foundation, he didn't press further.

He and this direct descendant of the Great Pillar State Yuan clan were neither friends nor enemies. Although they had chatted a bit more today and the relationship had eased somewhat, their friendship wasn't deep enough for that.

Yuan Huajing was silent for a long time, then suddenly said, "I seem to have two destiny flying swords, but one of them is actually a counterfeit sword, made by Grand Preceptor Cui himself."

Chen Ping'an fell into thought.

Yuan Huajing asked, "Let me ask you something. You can answer or not. That man who slayed the dragon—do you know the path he took to merge with the Dao at the fourteenth realm? Can you tell me?"

Because of this sword cultivator's existence, for three thousand years, all descendants of dragons, water immortals, and spirits—any who had hope of achieving true dragonhood—dared not "cross the thunder pool even half a step." The ten-thousand-year-old ancient Jiao within Huangting Kingdom's borders, with such a long Dao age, hadn't it always not dared to walk water?

Wasn't it for fear of that sword cutting across the sky, again crossing Lake Dongting?

Chen Ping'an snapped back to attention and shook his head. "It's too taboo. I shouldn't reveal heavenly secrets to you."

Yuan Huajing nodded.

Chen Ping'an said, "That counterfeit sword—is it a copy of my senior brother Zuo You's destiny flying sword?"

Yuan Huajing laughed. "You guess."

Damn it. Imitating this young Hidden Officer's sarcastic tone was indeed satisfying.

Chen Ping'an didn't mind and laughed. "Sword Immortal Yuan has only learned a bit of the surface. Nothing to be happy about. There's a long way to go. Keep it up."

Outside the house was quiet; in front of the courtyard, cypress trees.