Chapter 1049: Chen Qingdu's Swordplay Is Mediocre

Chapter 1049: Chen Qingdu's Swordplay Is Mediocre

“Reading military manuals can ward off the heat, cooling every aperture. Reading good poetry can also dispel the cold, making the whole body feel comfortable. At this time and place, the three of us brothers absolutely must have a bowl of lotus root paste.”
Cui Dongshan smiled as he pulled two bowls of iced lotus root paste from his sleeve and handed them to Jiang Shangzhen and Feng Xuetao. Feng Xuetao thanked him, feeling that he could never keep up with the Sect Leader Cui’s train of thought.

Cui Dongshan asked if they needed spoons. Jiang Shangzhen said no, holding the bowl with one hand and tilting his head back to eat the lotus root paste. Cui Dongshan then conjured two more bowls, one in each hand, taking a mouthful from the left and then the right.

One ascender and two immortals – such was their celestial air.

Over at Yulin Ferry, some visiting female cultivators, who had come hoping to catch a glimpse of Mi Yu, instead spotted the white-robed youth, an unexpected delight.

Cui Dongshan waved to them while chatting with Jiang Shangzhen about the recent affairs of the subsidiary sect. In the cultivation world, you must never provoke these fairy sisters who relish in critiquing people’s qualities—it had nothing to do with realm. As the old cook, a veteran of such matters, had said wisely: as long as you maintain good relations with them, your sect’s reputation won’t suffer.

The Green Ping Sword Sect had already established contact with the new emperor of the Dayuan Dynasty’s Yuan clan. The Yuan Dynasty, once split into three, was now reunified. Yuan Ying had ascended the throne as emperor, while Yuan Li and Yuan Mi had demoted themselves to vassal princes. The Green Ping Sword Sect was a close neighbor to the Great Abyss Dynasty. The new Yuan emperor promised that within the borders of his kingdom, not only would sword cultivator seeds—whose discovery often depended on luck—but all children suitable for cultivation be sent to Xian Du Mountain. As long as Green Ping Sword was willing to accept them, they would automatically become outer sect disciples. Whether they could stay would depend on their own fortune.

Apart from the guest elder “Bai Guan,” there was also the female cultivator Wang Manmeng, and Qian Jun, nicknamed “Money Monkey.” They had all already become outer sect disciples of the Green Ping Sword Sect.

One was working in the Brewing Bureau as an assistant to the old Qiu Du; Money Monkey had snagged a position in the Flower Moon Bureau, assisting the great sword immortal Mi Yu.

Additionally, from the Lin River region, a few clever river god mansion clerks would enter Xian Du Mountain territory. They would not be immediately registered in the sect roster but would be listed under Cui Dongshan’s Wu Cao Peak.

If one could say that Fallen Mountain had many vassal territories but few roster members and few institutions—so evenly distributed that each peak had only a few people—then the “bureaus” of the Green Ping Sword Sect were almost more numerous than its “officials.” On average, was it almost one person per bureau?

Moreover, Jiang Shangzhen could tell at a glance that major bureaus like the Merit and Demerit Bureau and the Operations Bureau would soon spawn a series of subordinate offices. No wonder Cui Dongshan was in such a hurry to recruit. Fallen Mountain could afford to not care about numbers, but the subsidiary sect couldn’t.

However, as a chief elder of the main sect, he, Jiang Shangzhen, would not meddle in the subsidiary sect’s domestic affairs. He wouldn’t want to lose his seat in the ancestral hall on Jise Peak, and besides, one must be clear about accounts even between brothers.

Jiang Shangzhen teased, “Not being picky at all?”

Cui Dongshan laughed, “Screening and selecting—you have to have something to screen before you can select. Otherwise, even a clever woman can’t cook without rice.”

Jiang Shangzhen asked, “Are you trying to use a ready example to teach your Master how to manage a sect?”

Cui Dongshan said indignantly, “How would I dare have such a treasonous thought! Chief Elder Zhou, don’t slander me!”

Jiang Shangzhen smiled, “I truly envy you. You can start all over again, rise from the ashes.”

Much youthful vigor and ambition, once chewed up by worldly affairs, end up as nothing but chewed-up sugarcane dregs.

Given Jiang Shangzhen’s realm and methods, even setting aside his identity as a registered cultivator of the Yugui Sect and the head of the Jiang clan, he could have gone elsewhere, changed his appearance, and founded his own sect. But his nature wouldn’t allow it; he simply couldn’t be bothered to make the fuss. It was like walking down a road again—steady enough, but the scenery along the way was too similar.

Feng Xuetao envied the relationship between Jiang Shangzhen and Cui Dongshan. In the cultivation world, finding a true friend who shared the same aspirations and compatible temperament, someone you could share both wealth and hardship with, work together, and not tire of over time, was no easy task. Feng Xuetao, whose dao name was Qing Mi, came from a wild cultivator background. His hometown was on Ai Ai Continent. He had known the Money God Liu and Wei She for a long time, but they never hit it off.

Cui Dongshan said, “Yang Zhi is currently in the capital city. She’s changed her identity, renamed herself Jing Xing, and become a guest elder of the Daquan Dynasty.”

Jiang Shangzhen smiled, “The capital of Yunyan Kingdom isn’t that night boat. Should we bring Brother Feng and Mi Yu along?”

Cui Dongshan shook his head, “She and Old Man Nen will be putting in some effort next, helping to relocate water veins and move mountains and peaks.”

Jiang Shangzhen chuckled, “Cultivation is all like this. You always know there are tigers on the mountain, yet you head straight for them.”

Cui Dongshan tilted his head back, slurping the iced lotus root paste. “Green plum, cherry, in the basket, a few good dreams.”

Jiang Shangzhen said, “Is there anything else here that needs my presence? If not, I’ll head straight back to Fallen Mountain. If I delay any longer, I’ll be worried about losing my position as chief elder.”

That Mr. Xiao Mo was a formidable rival indeed!

With Xiao Mo at Fallen Mountain, wasn’t that like driving up the prices!

This made Jiang Shangzhen extremely anxious.

Cui Dongshan said, “Go on, go on. If you wait any longer, it really will be too late.”

Jiang Shangzhen nodded, “Perfect timing, too, since the Confucian Temple’s hosting of the Five Yues’ official enfeoffment gives me a chance to show off my skills.”

Cui Dongshan clicked his tongue, “It sounds like the fairy sisters are whispering among themselves, wondering if you really are the old sect leader Jiang.”

Jiang Shangzhen finished his lotus root paste and started licking the bowl, bowl facing down, face up. Just that disgusting action alone made the fairies at the ferry certain that this person could not be Jiang Shangzhen.

Cui Dongshan smirked, “Guess whether Ni Yuanzan will take the initiative to find Sui Youbian?”

Jiang Shangzhen nodded, “This Lu Sheng will most likely go to the Sweeping Flower Terrace at Zhe Xian Peak.”

Cui Dongshan asked, “What was the old Daoist Abbot thinking? Since he’s already kicked Lu Sheng out of the Guan Dao Abbey, why not just go along and make Lotus Flower Blessed Land produce a similarly fearsome sword cultivator like the criminal officer Hao Su? Why go to such lengths to suppress Ni Yuanzan’s cultivation?”

Jiang Shangzhen said, “The old abbot is famously eccentric. He probably doesn’t consider a flying ascent realm cultivator worth a damn. He values those who might be able to forge a new path on their own, doesn’t he?”

Cui Dongshan nodded, “The old abbot likes novelty and despises the stale bookish learning of philology and lesser scholarship.”

Xiao Mo stayed by Chen Ping’an’s side.
The sword cultivator Bai Jing stayed because Xiao Mo was at Fallen Mountain.
The desolate Peach Pavilion stayed because of the capricious old blind man, which turned him into the gentleman and tender Daoist of Hao Ran.
Yang Zhi was someone with a criminal record, constrained by the Confucian Temple’s rules—specifically because of that little Master.
Otherwise, these fierce, untamable great demons of the desolate wilds could not be compared in sheer ferocity to Qing Tong, whose true body was a parasol tree.

Cui Dongshan, despite having two bowls of lotus root paste, was the first to finish.
By the time Jiang Shangzhen had finished as well, Feng Xuetao still had half a bowl left.

Cui Dongshan laughed for no reason, “A gentleman speaks of the heart; a petty person attacks the heart. Am I considered someone whose heart is cunning but dangerous, seeking fame under false pretenses?”
“And Brother Feng is someone whose actions are perverse but stubborn, cynical and misanthropic.”
Jiang Shangzhen laughed, “I belong to the type that remembers ugly things abundantly, clever at whitewashing errors and fostering evil.”
Cui Dongshan said, “Fortunately, none of us are fond of specious arguments. That’s how it is—what can they do to me?”

Cui Dongshan waited until Feng Xuetao finished his lotus root paste, then retrieved the empty bowls and tucked them into his sleeve. “Off to attend to serious business. You all do as you please.”

Jiang Shangzhen, dressed in a blue scholar’s robe, stood with one hand behind his back and the other on the railing, as graceful as a jade tree in the wind.
Seeing this scene, the female cultivators on the shore became uncertain again—could it really be Jiang Shangzhen?

Cui Dongshan found Xing Yun and Liu Shui, two fellow sword cultivators of similar daolings but with the appearances of a youth and an old woman.
Cui Dongshan made a deep bow with clasped hands, smiling, “I’m so late in coming to pay respects to the two sword immortal seniors. A belated arrival—forgive me, forgive me.”

Earlier, during the indoor meeting, Zhong Qiu had proposed that Mi Yu invite the two cultivators to attend. They had declined, saying it wasn’t their habit. Although Mi Yu spoke bluntly in front of the two old sword cultivators, he still explained a few words on their behalf to Cui Dongshan.

On the Sword Qi Great Wall, there was a tradition that only great sword immortals participated in city-head meetings; sword cultivators indeed had no tradition of attending as observers.

Xing Yun and Liu Shui merely nodded slightly to the young sect leader.

After all, the two sword cultivators were truly interested in only one person: the last hidden officer of the Sword Qi Great Wall. Each of them, while in the desolate wilds, had heard many “interesting tales” about Chen Ping’an.

For instance, there was a saying: “Southern subject-minister, Northern hidden officer.” And Zhou Mi’s final disciple, Zhou Qinggao, never concealed the fact that he was an admirer of Chen Ping’an.

When Cui Dongshan was with them, he was a completely different person from when he was with Jiang Shangzhen and Feng Xuetao. There was no trace of his usual jocularity. He cut straight to the point: “Over at the Dragon Elephant Sword Sect in Southern Poplar Continent, there is now the Sword Qi Great Wall native sword cultivator Gao Shuang, Jade Abyss realm Guo Du, and his dao companion Ling Xun, who is a desolate wild sword cultivator. Among them, Gao Shuang, compared to you, both in terms of the sword dao realm he once reached and his age, can be considered your senior. Additionally, as far as I know of the traveling and returning sword cultivators, there are Jin Gao from Tai Xiang Street, once a family retainer of the Qi clan; the female sword cultivator Zhu Su from Xuan Hu Street; Huang Ling and Xuan Yang, who respectively owned the city-outside sword immortal private estates of Jin Gang Slope and Bai Hao Nunnery; and also a master and disciple duo: the female sword cultivator Mei Kan and her disciple, whose dao name is Zhen Ze, who is a demonic sword cultivator from the desolate wilds. Mei Kan is in the Jade Abyss realm, and the disciple is already a sword immortal? That’s all I know for now.”

Xing Yun laughed, “Sect Leader Cui’s little birds have sharp eyes.”

Liu Shui frowned in silence, suspecting that that young outsider surnamed Chen had spent his time at the Summer Retreat Palace browsing through their secret files.

Cui Dongshan explained, “Seniors, please don’t misunderstand. This information I gathered through my own channels; it has nothing to do with my Master.”

Mi Yu nodded, “I can vouch for that.”

Apart from Qi Tingji, it seemed none of their native Sword Qi Great Wall sword cultivators had any intention of establishing a sect here in Hao Ran the Virtuous World.

Cui Dongshan said, “Besides sincerely inviting both seniors to serve as guest elders of the Green Ping Sword Sect, I also hope you can help introduce us to Huang Ling and Mei Kan.”

Huang Ling was currently in the immortal realm, one of those “private swords” of the Sword Qi Great Wall. He was already in the Jade Abyss realm when he left his hometown. He was a close friend of Yue Qing and Sun Juyuan.
This man loved to drink, enjoyed strumming his sword and singing long songs. His sword was named “Three Caves.” It was said the sword was passed down from a sword cultivator surnamed Feng who had traveled the Sword Qi Great Wall. The previous owner, wielding this sword, had slain countless demons and monsters in Hao Ran the Virtuous World. The sword’s qi condensed, and the long rope wrapped around the hilt was one of the highest rank binding demon ropes in the world. The sword’s inscription read: “Sun and moon traverse the sky, the old master of the Divine Continent.” That sword-cultivator surnamed Feng, who traded the sword for wine, called himself the “Peace Elder.”

As for Mei Kan, she was the youngest of this group of traveling sword cultivators, said to be very young. Rumors had it she left the Sword Qi Great Wall—her heartbroken place—due to matters of love. However, she hadn’t first gone to the desolate wilds but rather traveled to Hao Ran the Virtuous World via Hanging Mountain. Yet she had returned to the Sword Qi Great Wall within a few years and then headed south to the desolate wilds.

Cui Dongshan said, “After both seniors become registered guest elders of the Green Ping Sword Sect, it won’t hinder you from going to the Five Colors World and taking up posts at the Ascension City when its doors open again. You only need to leave your names in the ancestral hall on Mi Xue Peak. Even if you never return, it doesn’t matter. Of course, before that, if any day you find the cultivation life unsatisfying, you are free to sever ties with the Green Ping Sword Sect at any time. We will only try to persuade you to stay; we would not dare force you.”

Mao Xiaodong, that Ritual Academy director who spent his days on idle, fanciful projects instead of real work, had previously proposed to the Confucian Temple that Hao Ran’s sects not be linked to the Five Colors World. This actually had one advantage.

However, once the Five Colors World’s doors opened again, such good fortune wouldn’t be repeated.
Traveling between the two worlds in the future would only be possible for flying ascent realm cultivators.

“Once you become sect guest elders, you’ll certainly need to go out and relax, travel the nine continents, sword in hand.
“In Hao Ran the Virtuous World, besides parasol tree drizzle, there’s also the wind of Fu Yao, rosy clouds filling the sky, and drifts of white snow. Each continent has its own scenery. Within a short span of a hundred years, you won’t tire of it.
“In Hao Ran, there are countless injustices.
“As long as your sword is justified, no matter how big a mess you stir up, I, as the sect leader, will have your back. You just brandish your swords and argue your cases; don’t worry about the aftermath.”

Hearing this, Liu Shui interrupted Cui Dongshan’s bold claims. The old woman’s expression was indifferent. “Can you really take care of everything? Even if you, Sect Leader Cui, are an immortal, isn’t that a bit too big a claim? Let’s say I travel to another continent and end up picking a fight with a flying ascent realm master, or stir up trouble with an old-line sect, and the case goes all the way to the Confucian Temple—could Chen Ping’an perhaps take care of it? Can you, Cui Dongshan, actually settle it? Or are you saying that if trouble arises, we just go to the main sect, Fallen Mountain?”

If this were a fellow sword cultivator from their hometown, she might believe it.
According to Mi Yu, this young sect leader surnamed Cui was an immortal realm cultivator and could be considered half a sword cultivator.

Cui Dongshan laughed, “If we really run into trouble, I definitely won’t go to Fallen Mountain for help. The Green Ping Sword Sect can solve all its own subsidiary affairs. I, Cui Dongshan, dare not, should not, and need not trouble my Master.”

Xing Yun sneered, “Sect Leader Cui, make sure you don’t have the temper of a sword cultivator without the actual skill. I speak harshly—get used to it.”

Liu Shui glanced at Xing Yun, rarely hearing him say something agreeable.

Cui Dongshan smiled, “This style of speaking—I don’t need to get used to it. It’s already fine.”

Xing Yun and Liu Shui exchanged a look. This Cui fellow—maybe they were somewhat compatible?

They communicated with heart voices: “Xing Yun, should we first go to Fallen Mountain, meet Chen Ping’an, and then decide whether to join the Green Ping Sword Sect?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary. No need to be so roundabout. Like Cui Dongshan said himself, if we’re not comfortable one day, we just leave.”
“Then you contact Mei Kan? I’ll find Huang Ling?”
“Alright. Also, contact Jin Gao and Zhu Su. Let’s not let Qi Tingji recruit them all. Qi Tingji looks utterly irritating outside of battle.”
“Ha, jealous of his good looks?”
“Let’s focus on business. Why do you keep bringing that up? By the way, Xuan Yang seems to have a good relationship with your master. He’s only a guest elder at the Dragon Elephant Sword Sect now. You can chat with him and see if he wants to become a guest elder here.”
“If both Mei Kan and Zhu Su come here, you’ll be overjoyed, won’t you?”
“Romantic entanglements are meaningless. They only slow down your sword training.”
“Was that what Zhou Cheng said to you back then, word for word?”
“Liu Shui, will you stop?!”

After Cui Dongshan took his leave, Liu Shui did not immediately leave the room.

Xing Yun recalled some old matters and people from home. He and Gao Kui, whose sword arts inheritance belonged to the Dragon Lord lineage, had been the closest of friends. They often guarded the city head together, and every battle outside the city, they fought side by side. It was no exaggeration to say they were brothers who would die for each other.

Gao Kui had a master’s transmission, but it was the kind that was better off having none. Xing Yun, on the other hand, came from the lowest levels of the city, rising step by step. His ancestral home was on Yan Chi Street. On his path of sword training, he and Gao Kui supported each other, borrowing money and running tabs. They each claimed to have records, warning the other not to try and welch—but it was all talk. In their hometown, having the identity of a sword cultivator was nothing special. Killing demons and accumulating battle merits was also ordinary. Over the years, every big or small tavern on the Sword Qi Great Wall—which counting house didn’t have a pile of debts that remained unpaid?

It seemed only that later-established little tavern adhered strictly to its rule: absolute no credit.

Back home, Liu Shui had a master sect with a fair number of sword cultivators. They had been quite reputable on the Sword Qi Great Wall. She still remembered that when she left home, the youngest sword cultivator was an orphan, named Han Rong, if she remembered correctly?
The child had average talent in sword training, but he had a stubborn temper. Every time he smelled alcohol on his seniors, even if it was a sword cultivator of his master’s generation, the child would scowl.
It was as if anyone who drank was his enemy.
That was why Liu Shui remembered the child.

Earlier, Liu Shui had asked Mi Yu many questions, including whether he knew a sword cultivator named Han Rong and if he was now in Ascension City. But Mi Yu, who had been a gatekeeper at both the Spring Banner Studio on Hanging Mountain and the Summer Retreat Palace, only knew records of upper five realms and some earth immortal sword cultivators. He wasn’t sure whether Han Rong had gone to Ascension City in the Five Colors World. Mi Yu privately knew that Liu Shui really wanted to know if Han Rong was alive. So he said that the Hidden Officer definitely knew and could send a flying sword message to Jise Peak to ask, but Liu Shui said not to bother.

Mi Yu had his own plans. He would ask anyway. If the Hidden Officer replied that Han Rong had fallen in battle, Mi Yu would pretend he didn’t know. But if he was still alive, he would tell Liu Shui.

Xing Yun opened a jug of wine on the table and looked at Liu Shui. The old woman nodded. Xing Yun poured two bowls. According to Mi Yu, this was the most famous and best-selling liquor on the Sword Qi Great Wall.

This tavern’s liquor came in three grades. The mildest cost just one Snowflake Coin. Another sold for five Snowflower Coins. The most expensive cost ten and was nicknamed “Green Mountain Divine Liquor,” and only one jug was sold each day—first come, first served.

On the ferry, the Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven wine came in only two varieties. According to Mi Yu, the most expensive Green Spirit Mountain wine was no longer sold.

Xing Yun picked up his bowl and took a small sip. Having not tasted wine since arriving in the Virtuous World, he thought he was drinking bootleg liquor. Frowning, he asked, “What do you think?”

Liu Shui tasted some and frowned. “Doesn’t seem like proper immortal wine.”

Xing Yun turned the jug around to look at the red paper label with black characters. It indeed read “Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven Wine.” He laughed angrily: “Has their conscience been eaten by a dog?!”

Xing Yun downed that bowl, then opened another jug that supposedly cost five Snowflake Coins. It was also Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven wine, the only difference being that next to the wine name on the red paper, tiny script read “Superior,” and beside that was a line: “Sword Immortal meets fine wine with joy.” Xing Yun poured another bowl, smacked his lips, and nodded: “And they dare sell this swill for five Snowflake Coins? Even a dog wouldn’t pick it up!”

A knock came at the door. Mi Yu, standing in the corridor outside, asked with a smile, “Is it convenient? Am I interrupting?”

Xing Yun replied brusquely, “The door’s not locked.”

Mi Yu pushed the door open but didn’t cross the threshold. He laughed, “Liu Shui, the Hidden Office sent word back. Han Rong is now in the Dragon Gate realm and is at Ascension City, a sword cultivator of the Spring Residence lineage.”

Liu Shui nodded stiffly.

Mi Yu glanced at the two open jugs on the table and smiled, “The Hidden Officer also said that Han Rong is a regular at his tavern. As long as he doesn’t have to go to the city wall, he drinks two jugs every morning and evening, come rain or shine. He’s a penniless wretch who would sooner die than miss his drink. He only drinks the one-Snowflake-Coin Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven wine, never sits at a table even if seats are free, often crouches by the roadside drinking with the Hidden Officer, and loves cadging free drinks. But his drinking capacity and manners are good. He has a saying: drinking capacity is innate; you can’t train it. Occasionally someone offers him fine wine, he just declines, saying he doesn’t like being owed favors.”

The old woman squinted and smiled, but her mouth grumbled that Mi Yu was being meddlesome—she’d said not to bother the Hidden Officer, yet he had to go and be nosy. Listen to that—it was as if she was calling Chen Ping’an the Hidden Officer for the first time?

Mi Yu continued cheerfully, “Finally, the Hidden Officer said that Han Rong had written something on a wish plaque above the tavern back then. Xing Yun, do you want to hear it?”

Xing Yun waved his hand. “No need.”

But Liu Shui was curious. “Tell me.”

Mi Yu laughed. “It said: ‘Xing Yun is ungrateful. If he dares to come home, I’ll make sure to give him a good slap across the face.’”

Xing Yun chuckled instead of getting angry. “A little bastard in the Dragon Gate realm, not high in realm but big in mouth.”

Mi Yu turned to leave.

Liu Shui suddenly pointed to a jug on the table and asked, “No name written on it. What is it called?”

Mi Yu stopped and turned, looked at the jug, and smiled. “It’s a local coarse liquor called Mute Lake Wine.”

Mi Yu departed, and the door closed by itself.

The room was silent for a long time. Liu Shui uncorked the jug, shook it, then lowered her head to sniff. “Good name.”

Xing Yun pinched his wine bowl between two fingers and tapped the table lightly, signaling for a refill.

Beside the wine table, sword immortal meets fine wine; old woman meets youth.
Their state of mind was utterly pure and absolute.
Having left their homeland for a thousand years, their hearts remained ever young.

A group of travelers arrived at Yulin Ferry in a flurry: Zhong Kui, the ghost immortal Yu Jin; Li Baoping, Zheng Youqian, Tan Yingzhou. They had been traveling together, visiting many places and covering half of Tongye Continent.

They were not in a hurry to board the parasol-shadow ferry. At Yu Jin’s suggestion, they first found a restaurant near the ferry and ordered some raw marinated river delicacies. Zhong Kui couldn’t stomach that, so he asked for a hotpot along with Li Baoping.

Zhong Kui carried an oilpaper umbrella he’d found at the foot of a mountain earlier. Nowadays, Yulin Ferry never lacked customers with money; more people were arriving at Yunyan Kingdom’s capital than leaving. The restaurant was busy, and the young waiter wasn’t very quick on his feet. The fat man Gusu urged him twice, only to be snapped back at. The fat man fumed, “Eyes on his backside, only recognizes clothes and not people. Back in my day, this sort couldn’t even be a proper court jester—he’d have been dragged out and beheaded twice already.”

Zheng Youqian smoothed things over: “Senior Gusu, calm down. They say a prime minister must be able to pole a boat in his belly, let alone someone who used to be an emperor.”

Tan Yingzhou had always wondered about this fat man who always used “I, the emperor” as a personal pronoun. Except for his ugly appearance, he actually had a rather elegant and refined character.
Throughout their journey together, he excelled at composing poetry, matching couplets, taking rubbings from ancient steles, breaking ice to boil tea, kindling fire to roast yams, chewing plum blossoms with snow... This fat man, who called himself Gusu but was actually named Yu Jin, was skilled in everything.

A white-robed youth swaggered into the restaurant, swinging his sleeves, and slapped the fat man hard on the back of his head.

Seeing Cui Dongshan, both Li Baoping and Zheng Youqian, who were also from the Wen Sheng lineage, addressed him differently. Zheng Youqian called him “Little Senior Brother,” while Li Baoping called him “Big Senior Brother.”

If anyone else had called him that, Cui Dongshan would have been displeased and insisted on correcting them—you’re the big senior brother, your whole family are big senior brothers.
But since it was Li Baoping, he held his tongue.

Li Baoping said, “Little Master Squirrel mentioned a date for us all to gather at Fallen Mountain.”

Cui Dongshan looked blank. “Master never told me about this.”

Li Baoping grinned. “Not surprising. You’re his favorite disciple, after all.”

Cui Dongshan gave a dry laugh. “Yes, indeed.”

On the parasol-shadow ferry, Nen Daoren, after “catching up” with Qing Tong, came to the bow together to gaze at the bustling, brilliantly lit nightscape of Yulin Ferry.

In truth, they had no prior friendship. As Qing Tong said, Nen Daoren was of a younger generation compared to him and Yang Zhi. Yang Zhi was fine—she had remained in the desolate wilds ten thousand years ago, and there had been frequent interactions with Peach Pavilion, the ancestor of the Mountain Chasing Hounds. But Qing Tong had been assigned to Tongye Continent.

Nen Daoren sighed for no reason, “After all, it’s different from the desolate wilds. Things don’t just vanish.”

Qing Tong recalled something. “Did you really pursue Dong San’geng?”

Nen Daoren stroked his beard and smiled. “A good man doesn’t brag about his past deeds. It wasn’t a pursuit—just a misunderstanding. We fought and got to know each other. It was mutual admiration, that’s all.”

The truth was that after Dong San’geng slaughtered a flying ascent realm great demon in the depths of the desolate wilds, he cut off its head, put it in a bamboo basket, and headed back to the Sword Qi Great Wall. Not long after extricating himself from a melee, he was severely wounded. On his return journey, Peach Pavilion saw an opportunity and tried to get a few bites, since the old blind man didn’t feed him. Moreover, Dong San’geng, carrying the bamboo basket, had to conceal his aura. Peach Pavilion vaguely remembered that when the young sword cultivator first passed through the desolate wilds, he had only been an insignificant Core Formation realm cultivator. In just a hundred years, how high could his realm be? One bite might take out an Infant? At the time, Peach Pavilion didn’t even know if it would be enough to fill a space between his teeth...

At the time, Dong San’geng was in a hurry and didn’t want to waste time with Peach Pavilion, so he allowed Peach Pavilion to put on some airs.

Just as Peach Pavilion was about to unleash some killer moves, the old blind man reminded him, “That young man is already a flying ascent sword cultivator. You may not recognize him as Dong San’geng, but you certainly know the head in that basket. Want to join it?”

Peach Pavilion was so scared he immediately apologized to the young sword cultivator surnamed Dong. Without waiting for a reply, he activated a innate escape technique, reverted to his true form, and fled with his tail between his legs back to his mountain hut. He was about to thank the old blind man sincerely for his rare kindness in warning him...

But then he saw beside the old blind man a rare guest from a neighboring mountain—Chen Qingdu!

Chen Qingdu had his hands behind his back and merely said with a smile, “Peach Pavilion, old friend, quite impressive.”

The old blind man told Peach Pavilion to get lost and not to be an eyesore.

Peach Pavilion gratefully scrammed far away.

The old blind man said, “If you hadn’t killed that demon sword cultivator, Dong San’geng wouldn’t have damaged his dao foundation. His future sword dao achievements would likely have been high. Once Dong San’geng reaches the fourteenth realm, doesn’t that take some pressure off you?”

The implication was that it was regrettable for Dong San’geng to have acted impulsively for the sake of carving his name on the city wall and glorifying his family. It wasn’t a good deal.

Chen Qingdu laughed and asked in return, “If he hadn’t killed that beast, would Dong San’geng still be Dong San’geng?”

The old blind man was silent for a long time before finally blurting out, “It’s a fortunate thing that sword cultivators need to be pure.”

Chen Qingdu smiled. “That’s precisely why you were never destined to become a sword cultivator.”

The old blind man asked a question that had puzzled him for many years. “What’s the deal with that guy? There’s plenty of trash he could kill, but he doesn’t. And yet he goes out of his way to provoke Master Bixiao at Falling Treasure Shoal, something completely unnecessary.”

It was a strange sword cultivator whose face couldn’t even be clearly seen.

Chen Qingdu replied casually, “He likes to hide his head and tail, a real clam. Back then, he was arrogant as hell, looking down on everyone. Dragon Lord, Yuan Xiang, and others sincerely consulted him on sword techniques, but he never responded. I asked Guan Zhao if he could discern the fellow’s dao foundation and sword arts lineage. Guan Zhao just smiled and said nothing. I remember once we passed each other. Do you know what he did?”

The old blind man was curious. “What?”

Chen Qingdu laughed. “As we brushed shoulders, the guy deliberately slowed down, glanced at me, and then patted his own shoulder.”

The old blind man was even more puzzled. “Some deep meaning?”

Chen Qingdu snorted angrily. “At first, I puzzled over it too. But then Guan Zhao was the first to guess his meaning. There was no deep meaning at all—he was probably telling me: ‘Chen Qingdu, your sword arts only reach up to my shoulder.’”

That year, the old blind man had given a rare smile.

Mi Yu sat on a railing of the parasol-shadow ferry, deliberately choosing a secluded spot to avoid the commotion at Yulin Ferry, where seeing him would cause stares.

He took off the gourd-shaped wine bottle “Haoliang” hanging at his waist, which he usually used as a flask, and poured several catties of Mute Lake Wine.

Already present were sword cultivators Xing Yun and Liu Shui. Also Gao Shuang, Zhu Su, Jin Gao, Guo Du, Huang Ling, Xuan Yang, Mei Kan...

On Mi Xue Peak of the Green Ping Sword Sect, there was a sheer, sword-carved flat cliff face, where sword cultivators could inscribe texts at will, whatever they liked to express.

Thinking it over, Mi Yu didn’t know what to write himself.

A wandering exile in a foreign land, drifting like duckweed. Mi Yu drank silently from a jug of Mute Wine.

Green, lush grass and trees; year after year, the same old faces; morning and evening, longing.

In Green Apricot Kingdom, Flower Wine Ferry was lined with shops, bustling and lively.

Two groups converged. Earlier, Pei Qian, unable to resist Han Qiaose’s urging, selected two slightly coquettish and cunning spiritual artifacts, intending to give them to Nuan Shu and Xiao Mili.

Han Qiaose, seeing that the gifts were a bit cheap, paid out of his own pocket. After settling the bill, he asked Pei Qian who they were for. Upon learning their intended recipients, this female immortal of White Emperor City simply took out two magic treasures from her sleeve: a glazed porcelain brush rest shaped like a sword-planting grass pattern, and a nine-tailed fox-shaped jade paperweight. She said, “Consider the first two as from you, Pei Qian. These two are my meeting gifts for the two little girls. I haven’t reached Fallen Mountain yet, but my gifts have arrived first. Hmph, this is what they call ‘troops and fodder moving first before the army.’ I didn’t read those military manuals for nothing.”

Chen Ping’an said, “I’d like a brief word with Ling Yan, daoist friend.”

Zi Wu Meng glanced at Gu Can.

Gu Can was expressionless.

Zi Wu Meng muttered to himself, “A big pig’s trotter? Men are just unreliable.”

He had to follow the young Hidden Officer with the sword-carrying youth appearance for a stroll. After they had walked some distance, Gu Can, still on the spot, warned, “Don’t try to eavesdrop on that conversation.”

Han Qiaose smiled and nodded. “After all, it was Mr. Chen who came out to receive guests personally. I’m aware of the boundaries.”

Chen Ping’an began, “Since you’re staying by Gu Can’s side, refrain from offering bad advice. Don’t inflame situations. As much as possible, turn big problems into small ones and small ones into nothing.”

Zi Wu Meng performed a curtsey. “The Hidden Officer commands. Ling Yan will keep it in mind and never dare forget.”

Chen Ping’an didn’t need to guess to know she wouldn’t take it seriously. He said, “Don’t think I’m meddling. Remember, Gu Can is Master Zheng’s personal disciple. Within this hundred-year period, as Gu Can’s nominal maidservant living with him day and night, your only real task is simple: protect yourself. Preserve your dao life as best you can. Don’t be discarded as a pawn by Master Zheng once you’ve served your purpose. If Master Zheng ever decides to settle accounts, no matter whether you’re a Jade Abyss realm or even a flying ascent realm, you won’t get out of his way.”

Zi Wu Meng was taken aback. Was it appropriate to talk about Zheng Juzhong like that?

Chen Ping’an continued, “Since you didn’t participate in the invasion of Hao Ran the Virtuous World, you’re a new face in the desolate wilds. There’s hardly any old scores to settle. That’s a good thing. ‘The past is like yesterday dead; today is born anew from today.’ Tomorrow will depend on the work you do today within these hundred years. Master Zheng is one of the best in the world at settling accounts. If you stay by Gu Can’s side and help him establish his subsidiary sect wholeheartedly, you have a chance to turn disaster into fortune. During this hundred-year term, if you serve well and protect the dao, I believe Master Zheng won’t treat you unfairly.”

Zi Wu Meng smiled radiantly. “I understand the Hidden Officer’s meaning. It boils down to two things. First: don’t make trouble, and draw a clear line with Zi Wu Meng of the desolate wilds. Second: as long as I don’t cause trouble for Gu Can, I can gradually accumulate merit, and later cash it in with City Lord Zheng.”

Chen Ping’an said, “With me here, when the hundred-year agreement expires, Gu Can won’t just find some excuse to kick you out or kill you. Can you understand that?”

Zi Wu Meng replied decisively: “I can!”

How could he not understand? Perfectly. To put it another way, it was even easier to grasp: In the future, if Chen Ping’an insisted on killing Zi Wu Meng, her ‘master’ Gu Can wouldn’t stop him.

Chen Ping’an said, “Before long, I’ll be traveling through the Central Continent. White Emperor City is a must-visit. If I get a chance to see Master Zheng then, I’ll bring up your matter.”

At this point, Chen Ping’an rubbed his brow. It was truly a headache.

Among the hypothetical opponents at the fourteenth realm, the one he least wanted to face was Zheng Juzhong—no joke.

“In the desolate wilds, you don’t need to fear a Core Formation sword cultivator who carved his name on the city wall all that much.”
“But in Hao Ran the Virtuous World, you should be even more wary of such people. That’s called ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans do.’”
“The reasoning behind that—Daoist Ling Yan should ponder it on your own.”

Chen Ping’an turned around. “We’re done. Let’s head back. I wish you a smooth journey.”

Upon seeing Gu Can and the others again, Chen Ping’an smiled. “Just got the news. Liu Xianyang might be hosting a wine banquet soon. When he does, the two of us will be his groomsmen.”

Gu Can smiled and nodded. “As long as Liu Xianyang has no objections and doesn’t think having me as a groomsman would shame him, I have no problem.”

Chen Ping’an glared. “Less nonsense.”

Gu Can felt a little wronged. The three of them, him and Chen Ping’an, had the best relationship. To put it simply, back in their hometown, without Chen Ping’an playing mediator every time, if Gu Can was one to hold grudges, was Liu Xianyang any more magnanimous? He was just as petty. How many times had Gu Can and Liu Xianyang fallen out in the past?

Gu Can asked, seemingly offhand, “Is the banquet in the small town, or...?”

Chen Ping’an said, “Liu Xianyang said there will be one in his hometown and one at the Dragon Spring Sword Sect.”

Gu Can nodded and asked no further.

‘You want me to ask? Liu Xianyang, you’re dreaming. You should be the one sending the invitation. Just say the word. If you couldn’t find me, you couldn’t send a letter to White Emperor City? A flying sword letter wouldn’t cost you, Great Sect Leader, a single coin.’

Han Qiaose reminded, “Don’t forget about collecting those military manuals, Mr. Chen.”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Guaranteed. For the next few years, I’ll send books to White Emperor City every six months. The first batch will be delivered this year’s Grain Rain Festival. Mistress Han, just wait to receive them.”

Han Qiaose nodded. “I can pay a deposit of five hundred Grain Rain Coins right now, if you’d like.”

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “No need. Friendship is friendship, business is business. Mistress Han, it would be cleaner to settle the account when you receive the books—cash on delivery.”

He wasn’t worried about having too few books for the first shipment to White Emperor City; rather, he was afraid that five hundred coins might not be enough.

In addition to his own Lotus Root Fortress Blessed Land and other private blessed lands belonging to top-tier sects with whom he had good relations—such as Jiang Shangzhen’s Cloud Cave Blessed Land, Han Zhoujin’s Clear Pool Blessed Land, and Talisman White Xuan—Chen Ping’an would send them each a letter, requesting copies of military manuals. Of course, he would only send to Fallen Mountain the manuals he could collect; he would personally oversee quality control. This kind of steady, long-term business must not tarnish the reputation of the “Old Honest Bundles-of-Charms” Chen Ping’an.

Chen Ping’an said, “Pei Qian and I will go to the capital. You all board the ship.”

Gu Can smiled. “That Wen Zixi is currently recovering from his injuries in the Cheng Qian Taoist Temple. That martial arts grandmaster is in a pretty pitiful state now—he can hardly even concentrate. Before I left, I suggested he might as well give up the path of qi cultivation and focus entirely on climbing the martial summit. Since his spirit is so high and his talent so good, there might be a chance for him to get his revenge on Pei Qian.”

Pei Qian smiled knowingly. “Speaks so cuttongely—no wonder Gu Can seems decent.”

Chen Ping’an asked, puzzled, “The sparring at the entrance of Joyful Mountain earlier wasn’t heavy, was it?”

Pei Qian nodded. “Not heavy.”

Gu Can sent a heart voice: “In the battle of the desolate wilds, among our opponents, the sword cultivator Liu Bai didn’t stand out, but my gut tells me she’s dangerous.”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

After they parted, Chen Ping’an smiled at Pei Qian. “After passing through the capital, you go back to Fallen Mountain first. We Wen Sheng lineage disciples will gather soon.”

At Xian Du Mountain, on the Zhe Xian Peak, Sweeping Flower Terrace, Sui Youbian collected her thoughts, sheathed her Infatuated Heart Sword, and flew down to the foot of the mountain, to the imitation Falling Treasure Shoal. She bowed and said, “Disciple Sui Youbian, greets Master.”

The old man standing beside the thatched hut by the shoal returned the bow. “Ni Yuanzan, a guest of the Jiang clan at Cloud Cave Blessed Land, greets Daoist Sui.”

The old ferryman, now using the alias Ni Yuanzan, held a bamboo pole and had been ferrying passengers at Yellow Crane Ridge, earning one Snowflake Coin per crossing.

The Master deliberately did not acknowledge their connection. Sui Youbian didn’t mind. She asked, out of curiosity, “After your successful ascension, Master, you remained in Cloud Cave Blessed Land to cultivate quietly? Was that incident at Yellow Crane Ridge, slaying the mosquito on the river, one of your feats?”

This was obviously asking what she already knew, making conversation.

Sui Youbian, back then, was determined to switch from pure martial arts to cultivating immortal spells and sword arts. Chen Ping’an, as the master of the scroll, did not stop her. She was taken by the old sect leader Xun Yuan to Divine Seal Peak and became a direct disciple of the Yu Gui Sect’s grand hall. She had even clashed with Wei Ying, the sword-cultivating Peak Master of Nine Yi Peak. Of the Cloud Cave Blessed Land, nominally belonging to the Yu Gui Sect but actually under Jiang clan control, though it was practically next door, Sui Youbian had never set foot in it. She had heard plenty of stories from that blessed land. One story, especially, about a drunken sword immortal spitting out his sword pellet and slaying a mosquito over the river, had been passed down as a romantically mysterious mountain tale. Because it involved a sword cultivator, Sui Youbian paid extra attention.

Later, Jiang Shangzhen had laid out all the details to Sui Youbian, pouring them out like beans from a bamboo tube.

It was just as Ni Yuanzan had said to a white-robed youth: knowing is worse than not knowing.

Teacher and disciple, both in a foreign land for many years, one ferrying a boat in Cloud Cave Blessed Land, the other once cultivating on Divine Seal Peak of the Yu Gui Sect, both living under someone else’s roof. Seeing each other was worse than not.

Sui Youbian knew this reunion for what it was, but she still feigned ignorance. She was worried that her Master’s heart was troubled, so she chose these pleasantries as an opening. In her eyes, given her Master’s talent, he should have long stood at the peak as a flying ascent sword immortal. His dao achievements would definitely not be inferior to the similarly low-born criminal officer Hao Su.

Ni Yuanzan’s true name in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land was Lu Sheng, style Xi Zhou.
This literate man, back home, had been both Sui Youbian’s teacher and the one who imparted martial arts and sword techniques to her.

At present, the elderly scholar wore a feathered robe of crane-down, which was both a dharma robe and a cage. A three-legged golden toad perched on his shoulder.

Jiang Shangzhen had tried several times to buy the toad from Ni Yuanzan, but always failed.

Ni Yuanzan said self-deprecatingly, “It’s hardly a successful ascension—I was just tossed out of the Lotus Flower Blessed Land by Master Bixiao. I’m no longer a frog at the bottom of a well. But after leaving the well, I realized even more how vast the world is and how small I am. My heart isn’t pure; the matter of achieving the flying ascent realm is still far off. I’ve wasted so much time.”

Earlier, when Chen Ping’an and the others traveled together through Cloud Cave Blessed Land, while crossing the river by boat, Ni Yuanzan’s true identity was seen through by a mysterious white-robed youth.
To be precise, each had seen through half of the other’s “essential dao foundation” and the nature of the bodies they showed the world. At the moment, Ni Yuanzan’s elderly body was the vestige of an ancient great cultivator whose true body had been a crane. Meanwhile, Cui Dongshan’s youthful form had once been an ancient Shu dragon capable of sailing the starry sky.

For cultivators seeking longevity through qi, a long-unresolved knot often became the calamity of their mind’s barrier.

If it weren’t for Ni Yuanzan being at the brink of the Jumbled Abyss realm, about to break but not yet broken, the old man wouldn’t have been in a hurry to come to Xian Du Mountain and voluntarily meet Sui Youbian, his former proud student in the blessed land.

Moreover, Ni Yuanzan was even more worried that in the future, when Sui Youbian, now an Infant realm sword cultivator, entered meditation, the demon she would encounter in her mind would be himself.

After all, the higher the image and status of Master Lu Sheng in Sui Youbian’s heart, the more powerful the mind demon would be.

So let them meet once, end the karmic bond, and then from then on, each cultivates on their own. If fate allows, they may meet again; if not, don’t force it.

Moonlight like snow, a cool breeze blowing gently, they strolled together on the Falling Treasure Shoal. Lu Sheng asked, “Have you ever seen the old abbot of the East Sea Guan Dao Abbey? The one whose ancient seat was the Falling Treasure Shoal—Master Bixiao?”

Sui Youbian nodded. “Yes, once. The old abbot visited Fallen Mountain before he traveled far to the Green Underworld.”

At that time, the old abbot had also asked Sui Youbian to relay a message to Chen Ping’an: it didn’t matter if the Golden Summit Abbey lived or died, but Shao Yuanran must be kept alive.

The old abbot’s implication was clear: the Green Ping Sword Sect could fight and kill with the Golden Summit Abbey, even tear down their ancestral hall, but they must not damage Shao Yuanran’s great dao cultivation.

Lu Sheng said, “On Bottle Gourd Continent, there is a Daoist with the style name Pure Yang. Not famous in the Virtuous World. This Daoist Lu, on the later mountain peaks, was called the number one Golden Core. He once traveled to the Lotus Flower Blessed Land. When I was young, by coincidence, I happened to meet this Pure Yang Daoist. He granted me a dream of millet.”

Back then, while Lu Sheng was traveling to the capital for the imperial exam, he happened upon a traveling Daoist resting in an inn at the side of Handan Road. The Daoist used a yellow millet dream to enlighten him.

It was after that that Lu Sheng began to gain a wider vision, no longer limited to the three immortalities of a literatus or the martial summit of a martial artist.

Sui Youbian came from a powerful noble family of the blessed land. The Lu and Sui clans were very close. Her name was chosen by Lu Sheng, who was her family’s tutor. It was the opposite of Lu Sheng’s self-title, “a man at the left of Handan Road.” Lu Sheng hoped that his student would one day find her own path and establish her own school.

But the old abbot privately regretted this deep-intentioned naming, giving a comment: “Painting feet on a snake, a pity he revealed the truth.”

Sui Youbian said, “This Pure Yang Daoist also visited Fallen Mountain and had a good relationship with Chen Ping’an.”

She had to admit Chen Ping’an had good luck with elders.

Lu Sheng smiled. “It doesn’t surprise me that you managed to switch to being a sword cultivator, giving up the martial body to pursue the mountain path.”

Among the four people in the painting, Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang never could have done that.

Sui Youbian said, “It’s all thanks to Master.”

Lu Sheng shook his head. “The master leads the disciple through the door; cultivation is up to the individual. No need to be modest. When it comes to martial talent, you were certainly first-rate in our homeland’s history, enough to rank in the top ten. For disposition, you surpass most, enough to be in the top three. In my view, you can be placed alongside the later noble scion Zhu Lian and the Lake Mountain School’s Yu Zhenyi. The three of you are of equal standing, no hierarchy.”

Every era has its own “Number One Under Heaven.” Since martial artists have limited lifespans, there were many “Number One Under Heaven” figures. Zhu Lian was the grand synthesis of martial arts in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land. In the battle at the capital of the Southern Garden Kingdom, he single-handedly killed the remaining nine experts of the world.

Two of them, renowned female martial grandmasters who even admired Zhu Lian, didn’t receive any mercy from the martial madman Zhu Lian.

Sui Youbian said, “Actually, none of us can compare with you, Master.”

Lu Sheng didn’t confirm or deny it. He said, “The original owner of this immortal molting dharma robe on me was a figure of extraordinary origin. He was the first yellow crane in the world to achieve ascension—only half a step away from the fourteenth realm. He had an aloof personality and called Master Bixiao his dao friend. Before entering seclusion, he seemed to sense the danger in that retreat. He secretly made a trip to Falling Treasure Shoal. Later, Master Bixiao helped him guard the pass. After his dao binding failed, he left behind this crane mantle and a pure, flawless golden core. Master Bixiao kept it for him, promising to find a suitable disciple to inherit his mantle.”

Sui Youbian asked, “And that disciple was to be you, Master?”

Lu Sheng’s expression was complex. “I can only say it was once possible.”

Sui Youbian wanted to get to the root of why her Master’s cultivation had stagnated, but feared touching a sore spot. She hesitated.

But Lu Sheng had already changed the subject, smiling, “Now I’m a registered guest elder of the Yellow Millet Sect on Bottle Gourd Continent. I plan to take disciples and teach there. My return to Tongye Sect this time is to discuss with Jiang Shangzhen about resigning my position as a guest elder in the blessed land.”

Sui Youbian smiled and asked, “Will it be a junior apprentice brother or sister?”

Lu Sheng said, “There may not be a formal teacher-disciple relationship.”

That Dream Millet Kingdom was also the place where the Pure Yang Lu Yan formed his golden core.

As for that ancient golden core hidden in the cliffs of Yellow Crane Ridge, Cui Dongshan first guessed Ni Yuanzan would give it to Sui Youbian; Jiang Shangzhen guessed it would be for Shao Yuanran of the Golden Summit Abbey. Both these first-rate clever people were wrong. The old abbot had left a clue for Ni Yuanzan, right in the Dream Millet Kingdom.

Lu Sheng revealed the secret, “That the Great Spring Dynasty can preserve its throne is not only due to the female emperor Yao Jinzhi’s masterful strategy and command, but also because within Mirage City, there is an unremarkable well that connects to the East Sea Guan Dao Abbey.”

Simply put, the desolate wilds had to give this old abbot—very old in dao age, very high in realm, and very bad-tempered—some face.

This old abbot’s earliest seat, the ruins of Falling Treasure Shoal, was now in the territory of the Golden Summit Abbey to the north. The abbey’s lineage came from the Lo Guan Sect’s “building a tower of reeds to observe stars and gaze at qi.”

Before heading to Bottle Gourd Continent, Lu Sheng secretly visited the Golden Summit Abbey, found Shao Yuanran, and gave him a long-lost daoist classic and that bamboo pole.

Shao Yuanran of the Golden Summit Abbey, on his cultivation path, compared to other cultivators from the homeland—whether the infamous but smooth-cultivating Jiang Shangzhen or the blessed Heaven’s Edge Mountain Taoist nun Huang Ting—could be called smooth sailing. He enjoyed quiet wealth, doing nothing conspicuous, lying back and enjoying blessings. First, he and his master became imperial tutors of the Great Spring Dynasty. Later, the great battle that sank an entire continent never touched the Golden Summit Abbey. He was gifted magic treasures by the abbot, smoothly formed his golden core—and a second-grade one at that. The abbey deliberately kept it secret. He seemed to trip over dog turds of good luck constantly, benefiting piecemeal. Separately, it seemed like no spectacular fortune, but accumulated steadily, it was considerable. He was already an Infant Cultivator.

Moreover, unaware of it, he had a talisman stuck on his forehead by the old abbot.

This master-disciple pair walking on Falling Treasure Shoal—neither was simple.

The “not simple” wasn’t just that both had been the number one in the world in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land in their time.

Lu Sheng, whom Lu Chen repeatedly addressed as “Master Xi Zhou” and “Brother Xi Zhou,” was indeed the first person in the blessed land to have the rudimentary heart of a half cultivator.

As the master of Cloud Cave Blessed Land, Jiang Shangzhen had had a candid conversation with him.

Jiang Shangzhen—once Zhou Fei of the Spring Tide Palace in the blessed land, later Chief Elder Zhou of Fallen Mountain—had exhaustively studied history books and secret records in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land and had long ago reached an astonishing, long-buried conclusion: that “Master Xi Zhou,” who had mastered the three teachings and a hundred schools, had failed to achieve ascension only because of the lower rank of the blessed land at the time. So Jiang Shangzhen joked that if Yu Zhenyi saw Ni Yuanzan, he should call him Master.

During his lifetime, Lu Sheng had once had a secret inquiry about the dao. The object of the inquiry was the old abbot.

That was why the old abbot “expelled” him from the blessed land, and he came to Tongye Continent with the Pure Yang Daoist, where a misty “Riding Crane City” appeared in the Great Spring Dynasty.

And Lu Sheng’s disciple Sui Youbian, whom he had taught with full dedication in his lifetime, had achieved a feat unprecedented and unlikely to be repeated: she had alone reached the martial summit and simultaneously absorbed half of the world’s martial fortune. Later generations, Zhu Lian and Ding Ying, though obviously higher in martial realm, never accomplished this.

Ultimately, Sui Youbian, as a pure martial artist, ascended with her sword like a female sword immortal. She seemed to thrust three swords against the whole world, lost, her flesh and blood dissolved, her body withered to dust, her soul scattered.

To use Lu Chen’s metaphor, it was like the “first bodily liberation” of the Lotus Flower Blessed Land.

Sui Youbian’s failed ascension seemed to prove that the Heavenly Dao cannot be violated, and man cannot surpass heaven.

After that, no martial artist in the world seemed to have the ambition to struggle against the Lord of Heaven again. They merely drifted in the secular martial world.

Lu Sheng smiled and asked, “Those books I left for you back then—why keep them so secret, not sharing them with anyone? Were you afraid someone would contest you for the number one under heaven?”

Earlier, the Lord Lu Chen had thought highly of this Master Xi Zhou, because Lu Sheng had once used the pure qi of a martial artist to try to “fill the sea,” eventually creating a “heart and gall mirror” and exploring a cultivation path to longevity through qi. It turned out that during his martial arts and sword training, Lu Sheng had “drained the pond” of all official and unofficial history in the blessed land, gradually collecting scattered fragments of spells and mental methods, piecing together broken chapters, and eventually mapping out several climbing paths. He wrote several reading notes and gave them all to Sui Youbian, hoping she would build upon them, carry them forward, and blow new life into the world outside the martial path. However, Sui Youbian was fixated solely on sword techniques and wasn’t interested in these “immortal spells.” She gained only the form without the spirit and never truly embarked on the path of qi cultivation.

Sui Youbian looked embarrassed and said nothing.

She did have selfish motives, but it wasn’t fear of anyone challenging her for first place; she just didn’t want outsiders to read those books.

Sui Youbian had not destroyed the books. After her “ascension with her sword” failed, they were mixed in with the Sui clan’s collection and later passed through many hands, eventually only half of the manuscript copies fell into the hands of Yu Zhenyi of the Lake Mountain School.

Contrary to Sui Youbian, the heaven-sent genius Yu Zhenyi grasped the spirit and meaning but unfortunately lacked completeness. Nonetheless, through his own efforts, he still became the first true qi cultivator in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land: he reverted to youth, flew on a sword, and took on the bearing of an immortal.

So, to some extent, it could be said that the Lotus Flower Blessed Land had an invisible line of inheritance: beginning with Pure Yang True Man Lu Yan, passing to Lu Sheng, then to Sui Youbian, and finally bearing fruit with Yu Zhenyi.

The incense flickered, sometimes visible, sometimes invisible, but it never fell.

It wasn’t until Sui Youbian came to the Virtuous World and became a qi cultivator that she truly understood the weight of the books her Master had left behind.

Lu Sheng laughed. “Desire everything, bite off more than you can chew, and fail. Truly, a bookish scholar is useless at everything.”

Sui Youbian asked carefully, “Master, your realm...?”

Lu Sheng said, “In the end, my own heart wasn’t tough enough, causing me to stall too long in the Jumbled Abyss realm. It wasn’t until Jiang Shangzhen recently pointed it out that I realized a certain truth—the bystander sees more than the player. But it was already too late.”

However, though Lu Sheng had left the blessed land for many years, he still hadn’t reached the immortal realm. It wasn’t due to insufficient talent for cultivation, but because Master Bixiao deliberately “made it difficult” for this Lu Sheng.

Back then, after that inquiry failed (with no third party knowing the inside story), Lu Sheng “died once.” In a daze, he opened his eyes to see a tall old Daoist. They sat together in the endless Starry River, overlooking the human world.

The old Daoist, calling himself Master Bixiao, said that Lu Sheng’s talent for cultivation was actually not bad—it wasn’t “innate” inherently, but could be called “earth-born” fit for cultivation. However, constrained by his fleshly body and the blessed land’s rank, he had swapped him a new body in a more spirit-rich place to continue cultivation. There was an agreement: if the next time they met, Lu Sheng could use his own sword arts to break the cage, he would qualify to be called a friend, and that golden core would be a farewell gift, his to keep, no need to pass along to anyone else.

But unfortunately, Lu Sheng had walked step by step to the Jumbled Abyss realm within Cloud Cave Blessed Land, was indeed a sword cultivator, but could never break the inherent confinement of the crane-down robe.

The robe was a cave heaven. It was just like the poet Bai Ye’s line: “The great dao is like the blue sky, but I alone cannot step out.”

This was a deliberate trial set by the old abbot.

If Lu Sheng could break the limits of the robe and establish anew, he would see the heavens broad and the earth wide, truly leaving that “abandoned well.” He would no longer be a frog at the bottom of a well and would qualify as a friend recognized by Master Bixiao.

But unfortunately, Lu Sheng drew a circle on the ground and imprisoned himself, wearing the robe, tending an ancient golden core, with a three-legged golden toad of abundant fortune on his shoulder.

In fact, back then, it was Lu Sheng who suggested to Jiang Shangzhen that he take his mountain friend Lu Fang on a trip to the Lotus Flower Blessed Land.

The result was that the blessed land gained a Spring Tide Palace and a Bird-Eye Peak belonging to Lu Fang. But Lu Fang still couldn’t break the barrier of love and never truly died in heart before new life could arise.

In Cloud Cave Blessed Land, Jiang Shangzhen had a conversation with Ni Yuanzan.

“Today I wish to borrow the teacher’s sword, to spit out light in the pitch-black sky and dark earth.” “There is no such sword; I am not deceiving you.” “You, this person, are the sword.”

At the time, Lu Sheng didn’t understand the true meaning, taking it as Jiang Shangzhen blaming himself for impeding his friend Lu Fang’s cultivation. So he dismissed it as an insult. But Lu Sheng was too intelligent—he soon chewed on the aftertaste.

Jiang Shangzhen’s phrasing had deep meaning. It said that Ni Yuanzan’s body was a discard sword half-forged by Master Bixiao, abandoned midway.

Therefore, the remaining half needed Ni Yuanzan to forge and refine himself, continuing to “use his body to refine the sword.” One day, if he succeeded, Lu Sheng would naturally break that robe prison.

In the Green Underworld, the fourteenth realm female crown Wu Zhou had walked a dao-binding path of “everything can be refined.”

The literatus Lu Sheng of the Lotus Flower Blessed Land alone had pioneered two great paths: qi refinement and material refinement.

But fate played tricks—both were abandoned halfway.

Lu Sheng looked at the long sword Sui Youbian carried on her back, smiled faintly, and said, “The two characters ‘chang sheng’ (long life) reversed are ‘sheng zhang’ (grow).”

Chen Ping’an’s dharma robe Golden Grain Dew, obtained from Jiao Long Gully, and this Infatuated Heart Sword lent to Sui Youbian—their greatest advantage was that they could continuously upgrade in rank.

The greatest advantage of that golden core was that it could give a qi cultivator an extra core of extremely high quality.

With this golden core, seamless, a cultivator would be like having an additional real cave heaven opened up, gaining multiple innate treasure apertures, and also inheriting the complete lineage of a great great perfection flying ascent realm cultivator.

Below the fourteenth realm, which qi cultivator wouldn’t be tempted by such a core?

Lu Sheng said, with a bit of melancholy, “I’m no longer free; I am no longer a pure martial artist.”

Finally, Lu Sheng added with a smile, “The sun sets, the river turns white—that is Cao Ci. The tide comes, heaven and earth turn green—that is Chen Ping’an.”

In Sui’an County, Yan Prefecture, there was a village school.

Since there was now an unexpected student, Ning Ji, and his own disciple Zhao ShuXia always sleeping on the floor in the kitchen was not a good look, Chen Ping’an rented an old house with an open courtyard in a neighboring village whose inhabitants all had the surname Chen and whose hall name was Xun Yu Tang. It had three rooms, just enough for each of them to have one. The upper floor was used for storage. Under the eaves were several nests built by swallows last year. Ning Ji had already been thinking of buying a couple of piglets; slaughtering them for the new year would bring back the festive flavor. As for the village school lodging, if Chen Ping’an stayed up late to prepare lessons or read, he’d still sleep there.

Song He had stayed here for several days and was finally ready to depart, back to the Great Li capital.

Besides Empress Yu Mian and the young girl Yu Yu, there was not a single attendant. Chen Ping’an found this quite unexpectedly. Song He laughed and said, “With Mr. Chen in the village, why worry about assassins?” This emperor was indeed very idle in the village. Like earlier, when the old resident passed away, the younger generation of that household wanted to set up a spirit hall in the ancestral hall with a coffin, but Song He waited to see if a fight would break out. In the end, they didn’t force their way through the ancestral hall doors; they were apparently talked out of it by a few respected elders in the village. Those native dogs that had barked wildly at the emperor when he first arrived now wagged their tails around him; they had become quite familiar.

At dawn, Chen Ping’an accompanied them all the way to the mouth of the Wu Xi village, where two carriages stopped under an old camphor tree at the edge of the village. Prefect Pei Tong and General of Yunzhou Chu Liang had already been waiting by the roadside.

Chen Ping’an asked, “Has Your Majesty truly made up your mind? Me serving as the Great Li Imperial Tutor has both advantages and disadvantages. For instance, the Mohist cultivators might cut off their cooperation with the Great Li Dynasty.”

The rise of the Great Li Dynasty owed much to the Mohists. Not to mention the Mohist wanderer Xu Ruo, who was the second-ranked attendant of the Great Li Song clan.

But the Mohist Master’s impression of this young hidden officer was not very favorable.

It could be said that they had never met and had no intention of any intersection. So much so that when the old scholar regained his position in the Confucian Temple, the Mohist Master, who was a city unto himself in the desolate wilds, didn’t come to the Merit Forest to offer congratulations. In truth, the Mohist Master and Wen Sheng had some private friendship. Obviously, it was because the old scholar had taken in this final disciple, and combined with Chen Ping’an being at Merit Forest at the time, the Mohist Master simply chose not to see the old scholar.

If Chen Ping’an became the new Imperial Tutor of Great Li, it would be highly likely that a host of supremely skilled Mohist artificers would immediately withdraw from the Great Li Dynasty.

Song He nodded. “I have considered all these matters.”

Yu Yu’s face was bitter.

Noticing Chen Ping’an’s gaze shifting, she immediately beamed brightly.

Chen Ping’an asked, “Did my senior brother Cui mention any of his students to Your Majesty? Perhaps who he considers worthy of being a formal disciple?”

Song He shook his head and smiled. “It seems the Governor of Chu Province, Wu Yuan, could be considered a formal disciple of the Imperial Tutor. The rest, including myself, don’t have any formal teacher-student status. According to our lineage, we can only be considered unregistered outer disciples who haven’t yet entered the hall?”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

Song He asked curiously, “Mr. Chen, are you planning to sort out the lineage of the Wen Sheng lineage?”

At this, Song He chuckled. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to change my title. I can claim to be a student openly recognized by Imperial Tutor Cui!”

“There’s no need for that.”

Chen Ping’an smiled and saluted, clasping his hands. “I won’t see you further. Farewell here.”

Song He helped Yu Mian into the carriage first, then clasped his hands to Chen Ping’an in farewell.

Yu Yu performed a lightning-fast curtsy and promptly ducked into the carriage.

Chen Ping’an, who originally had something to say to Yu Yu, simply turned to salute Pei Tong and Chu Liang. Both frontier officials smiled and returned the salute, then boarded the other carriage and left.

Chen Ping’an, leading his disciple Zhao Shu Xia and his student Ning Ji, walked slowly toward the school. The mountains were clear, the water beautiful. The two walked on either side of him, Chen Ping’an in the middle.