Chapter 1062: I Know Who You Are

Chapter 1062: I Know Who You Are

In Youzhou, there was a famous ancient battlefield site.
As far as the eye could see, it was desolate and lifeless.
But in truth, the vegetation here was lush and overgrown; it was only because there were no flourishing cities or towering giant trees that it seemed so silent and devoid of liveliness.
Two riders galloped side by side, a man and a woman. One rode a scrawny, emaciated nag, while the other was mounted on an extremely spirited piebald horse.
A young Daoist, dressed in a blue cotton Daoist robe, swayed his shoulders with the horse's jolting and said with a smile, "An old horse knows the way. Travel slowly, return late. Coming late is better than not coming at all."
The other person, a woman, had a lovely face, but her expression remained blank.
The phrase "like a world away" was perhaps the most fitting description.
These were none other than Lu Chen and Zhu Lu, who had left the Haoran World.
Lu Chen had not taken Zhu Lu directly to the White Jade Capital.
However, this "Lu Chen" was, of course, only a talisman clone.
Lu Chen pointed ahead with his finger. "There's a small Daoist temple up ahead where I served as a guest priest for a few years. I got along famously with them. If we spur our horses and hurry, we can definitely make it there before dark and spend the night."
Zhu Lu merely nodded silently.
Back in her homeland, Zhu Lu had indeed encountered some immortals who enjoyed dallying in the mundane world, indulging in wine and women. She had also seen many reclusive masters whose appearances belied their true capabilities.
But along this journey, the many sights still left Zhu Lu feeling bizarre and unbelievable. However, this was mostly due to having the Sect Leader Lu by her side; he always managed to turn ordinary things into something extraordinary.
At a city gate, a red paper with black characters was pasted, given by some temple, bearing the festive words "Mountain Lord Welcomes the New Year."
At that time, Lu Chen had said, "Roadside pavilions, mountain Daoist lineages, human writings—though enduring, they never decay. This is immortality."
They passed by a river channel during the scorching summer, enduring a long drought without rain. A gaunt river spirit stood in the dry riverbed, squatting on the cracked earth with a ladle of water, cheerfully saying to a mountain god on the shore, "I'll finish mine; you do as you please."
The river spirit spotted the two riders and asked loudly, "Are you ordained Daoist officials who know celestial magic? Can you do a good deed and send down a sweet rain?"
Lu Chen crossed his arms over his chest and cursed back, "I don't know any celestial magic! Want a piss?"
The river spirit started cursing back at the seemingly insane passing Daoist. When he got angry enough, he threw down his white bowl and prepared to give that fellow a beating.
The Daoist seemed to be waiting for exactly that moment. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. "Good, good, good! An auspicious omen! 'Shattered' means 'peace'!"
The Daoist reached out from his sleeve and snapped his fingers lightly. In an instant, dark clouds gathered, a torrential rain poured down, and raindrops the size of soybeans flooded into the dry riverbed.
In the county town, Lu Chen took her aimlessly through streets and alleys, encountering wild cats in old alleys and mongrel dogs inside courtyards. Lu Chen would stop and stare, lost in thought.
In a place with abundant rainfall, they saw jade prospectors wielding wooden sticks, walking in groups through rushing river currents, using only their feet to step on stones to determine whether they contained fine jade.
Lu Chen rolled up his trouser legs, told Zhu Lu to stay on the bank, and then conjured a green bamboo staff. He strode into the river, stepping here and tapping there.
There was a chief editor of an encyclopedia who, on his way home after retiring, met Lu Chen by chance in the mountains. They hit it off, and after some palm reading and flattery, Lu Chen managed to "swindle" a considerable amount of gold and silver from that elderly, honest, and poorly-paid official.
While camping out on a mountain peak, the leader of the White Jade Capital actually set up a mosquito net. Eating dried fruit and candied snacks, he taunted the mosquitoes, "Come on, bite me if you dare!"
At this moment, Lu Chen twisted his wrist and conjured a small dish. Without bothering to conjure chopsticks, he slurped some and turned to ask, "This is eight-treasure taro mash. Want to try some?"
Zhu Lu shook her head.
Lu Chen smiled and said, "Right now, you're focused on climbing higher and reaching the summit. Later, you'll understand a truth: only those who can enjoy pure leisure are true immortals."
Zhu Lu replied, "We'll talk about that later."
Lu Chen nodded. Instead of refuting or lecturing, he agreed, "That's very reasonable."
Zhu Lu suddenly asked, "Am I really not dreaming?"
Lu Chen chuckled, "Dreams inside dreams, outside dreams—would figuring it out really be better?"
Zhu Lu asked, "Then are you really Lu Chen?"
Lu Chen couldn't help but laugh. "I can be, and I can not be. It's up to your mood."
If not discussing the obscure depth or the killing power after integration, but only the splendor and wonder of the integration method, Lu Chen was well-deserving of calling himself number one. No one would vie with him for that.
Lu Chen's Five Dreams and Seven Mind-Phases had never been hidden from the outside world. Hence, Lu Chen's integration into the Fourteen Realm was the most… transparent. Whether one knew and remembered, or didn't know or heard and forgot, the world was free to do as it pleased.
The Daoist dreamed of the Confucian teacher Zheng Huan; a living person dreams of a pillow-skull and dreams again; dreams of a live oak tree; dreams of a dead spirit turtle. Dreaming of becoming a butterfly, I know not who I am, who is the subject, who is the object.
Additionally, there were the seven mind-phase entities: the Wooden Rooster, the Chun Tree, the Mole Rat, the Kunpeng, the Yellow Sparrow, the Yuanchu, and the Butterfly.
Among the four dreams, all had already been interpreted, so that old bone Daoist friend who went by the alias Mao Cone could hide wherever he pleased.
As for the seven mind-phases, the Yellow Sparrow, which could inspect literary fortune, had long been retrieved. The Wooden Rooster was Yu Zhenyi of the Lotus Flower Blessed Land. The Yuanchu was the former owner of the Dharma Robe Golden Libation, a certain Yellow-Purple noble of the Heavenly Master Mansion who had "died by dissolution" on an overseas solitary island. The Kunpeng had also been retrieved. An old friend from the Night Boat who had once engaged in the "Hao Liang Debate" with Lu Chen—since he had spoken up, and since Wu Shuangjiang already knew, Lu Chen was happy to go along with the flow. Only the Mole Rat was still left behind in the Haoran World, not to scheme against anyone, but just for fun.
As for Lu Chen's proposal that "the ancient great chun tree uses eight thousand years as spring and eight thousand years as autumn," this tree did not conform to rules or regulations, hence it was the most useless. Lu Chen actually didn't care whether he retrieved the Chun Tree mind-phase or not, because this tree was the Dao tree in his heart, transplanted from the Haoran World to the Qingming World.
Lu Chen clapped his fist into his palm and said, "I've thought about how to introduce myself to new faces. 'This humble Daoist hails from Quyuan, with the Dao name Sanmu.'"
Just as Zhu Lu was about to speak, Lu Chen turned his palm into a pointing finger, extended it toward Zhu Lu, and softly commanded, "Shh!"
Zhu Lu instinctively shut her mouth, but after a moment, she realized the Sect Leader Lu was just being mysterious. She could certainly speak. "Is this fun?"
Lu Chen crossed his arms over his chest, wobbling on the horse's back, and began to look around—at the sky above and the ground below. "The sky is vast and the earth is wide, alas."
Outside the sky, in a precarious, semi-shattered secret realm.
Yu Dou hung in the air, his Dharma sword sheathed and carried on his back.
In the distance stood three Fourteen Realm cultivators standing side by side—all of them Zheng Juzhong. It was impossible to distinguish the true body from the yang spirit or yin spirit.
However, one of the Zheng Juzhongs, because he was wearing a Daoist robe and Daoist crown, was very easy to recognize.
Yu Dou only glanced at "this person" before wanting to change venues. They should stop holding back thirty percent of their strength and go all out, engaging in a true Dao interrogation.
What a lawless and reckless Zheng Juzhong.
It was only because this "Daoist" Zheng Juzhong, though his appearance bore no resemblance to his master, had an aura that made even Yu Dou mistakenly think he was looking at a middle-aged version of his master—apart from the youthful true body and the elderly Dharma body!
Zheng Juzhong had displayed dozens of Daoist techniques from various lineages, including the Five Thunder True Method of the Dragon-Tiger Mountain Heavenly Master Mansion, and even the closely guarded secrets of the White Jade Capital's Three Cities and Four Towers.
Furthermore, Zheng Juzhong could perfectly mimic the life-character of Confucian sages, the hand seals of the Western Buddhist Kingdom, countless derivative swordsmanship techniques, military strategist divine abilities, long-lost ancient secret techniques, and the talisman formations of the Three Mountains and Nine Marquises…
Two Zheng Juzhongs' forms dissipated and secretly returned to the Haoran World.
The last Zheng Juzhong sat cross-legged, wiping the blood from his cheek with his thumb. "As expected of one of the four immortal swords—truly incomparable in sharpness."
If only he could obtain the Sun Palace of the Blue Cave Master, he could forge his own sword.
Unfortunately, during his trip to the Guan Dao Temple in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land of Tongye Continent back then, the "price" hadn't been settled between them.
Zheng Juzhong asked, "Yu Dou, do you know how many ten-thousand-year periods there were before ten thousand years ago?"
Yu Dou didn't hide the answer and said calmly, "I've heard there were ten thousand, but it's just hearsay. I'm not interested in such things. Those of you who go out can ask my master."
Zheng Juzhong smiled and asked, "I've heard Lu Chen went to a strange world."
Yu Dou nodded. "There may exist countless great thousand worlds. Junior Brother Lu once went to one of them and stayed there for many years. To be precise, in terms of perception, it was countless years, to the point where in the end, he couldn't tell whether it was hundreds of millions of years or billions of years. When he returned to the White Jade Capital, I didn't ask much, and he rarely spoke much about it. He only said that there, he could crush countless stars with just two fingers, and with a single thought, he could give rise to a vast, boundless, brilliant river of stars. In the middle stage of his cultivation, every breath he took was the opening and closing of the entire world's Daoist laws. Later, in that place, even with his unyielding Dao heart, he became so despairing that he could only destroy himself over and over again, yet he had to reshape his Dao body, change his identity, and at some point recover part of his memories. The higher his realm, whether actively or passively, he would eventually remember everything. Even later, he had to create enemies for himself, to have himself kill himself. Thus, hundreds or thousands of so-called geniuses emerged—brilliantly talented, lacking neither perseverance nor opportunities—some successful, some thwarted, some high-spirited, some grieving and roaring or silent, some alone, some with a few Daoist friends or in groups of tens of thousands or millions of like-minded people, eventually successfully killing him as the so-called villain, or failing just short. In short, the stories were endless and varied."
Zheng Juzhong smiled and said, "Sounds fascinating."
If it were anyone else, Yu Dou would have let them try it out. Even if they couldn't fully replicate that world, finding a similar "Dao field" wouldn't be difficult.
But since it was Zheng Juzhong, forget it.
Dealing with someone like this, once a conflict over the Dao arose, the only way was to kill them completely with superior killing power—no other option.
Yu Dou was about to return to his master's side, but on a whim, he stopped and asked, "Zheng Juzhong, what do you seek? What matter?"
He didn't expect an answer, but there were truly too few things that interested Yu Dou, so few that asking didn't hurt.
"For now, what I seek…"
Zheng Juzhong put away his meditation cushion, stood up, and smiled. "Yu Dou seeks defeat; I seek a joint decapitation."
Yu Dou looked at him, shook his head, and laughed. "What a madman."
In an instant, Yu Dou, who had just turned around, suddenly turned back. "I finally know who you are."
Zheng Juzhong smiled. "Then why don't you quickly call me Master?"
Yu Dou's words were not mere pretense. Thus, what Zheng Juzhong was thinking at this moment was a name: Zhou Mi?
Or perhaps a certain cultivator who would successfully integrate into the Fifteenth Realm in the future? If that were the case, then thoroughly severing that causal chain, using this to determine a "now," and confirming that the so-called river of time was actually a void thing, a great cage, and completely transcending this thing—more precisely, the shackles of this name—might be the key to stepping into the threshold of the Sixteenth Realm in the future.
So indeed, he needed to go meet that gatekeeper deity who sat guarding the river of time.
Yu Dou, with his sword on his back, had already left laughing loudly.
——
In Baoping Continent, the capital of Yuxuan Kingdom.
Over twenty years ago, a family surnamed Ma, outsiders who had moved there, spent a large sum of money to buy a former prime minister's old mansion.
In the capital, ordinary wealthy and influential households, even the Ma family's neighbors, only regarded the Ma family as a bunch of nouveau riche outsiders.
A young man named Ma, at dusk today, arrived early at the family ancestral hall. Entering the hall, he neither offered incense nor bowed to portraits. Instead, he jumped directly onto a beam and lay down.
The maid who neglected the ancestors and the disciple who forgot the ancestors hadn't followed him into the territory of Yuxuan Kingdom. They were all ants—perhaps if someone sneezed or lifted a foot and put it down, they would crush such trash.
Yu Shiwu had advised him not to come back.
Ma Kuxuan said that the other party wanted revenge, and he himself wanted to pay the father's debt with the son's life—both were perfectly natural.
Since the other party could no longer hold back and was about to strike, why should he hide? He wouldn't hide.
Ma Kuxuan lay there, crossed his legs, and chewed on a piece of licorice root he'd pulled from who knows where. He snapped his fingers.
A mountain goddess was summoned by Ma Kuxuan's command—dragged directly from her golden statue.
After realizing it was Ma Kuxuan's doing, the mountain goddess, standing on the beam, quickly sat down.
Ma Kuxuan stared at the exquisite caisson ceiling with wide eyes and said, "My younger brother didn't lie to you. He genuinely wanted to help you change the mountain's name, but he doesn't have the ability. Now that the Great Li Dynasty has undergone changes, the Deerhorn Mountain God, who is on good terms with the Ma family—your direct superior—doesn't dare to help with this matter at such a time. However, what Ma Yanshan couldn't do, I can do. I'll help you change the mountain's name. The only condition is that you change your name first. 'Song Yu' is too good a name; you don't seem worthy of it."
The mountain goddess, Song Yu, didn't dare say a word of refusal.
Zheer Mountain had extremely beautiful scenery. From afar, it looked like court officials holding jade tablets; up close, it was like a beauty with coiled black hair. According to the Golden Jade Register promulgated by the Great Li court, in the equally hierarchical landscape officialdom, Song Yu held a seventh-rank divine position, at least officially ranked. She wanted to change the mountain's name to "Zheyao" (meaning "to bow"), which sounded better and had a better meaning. Last time, Ma Yanshan got drunk again at her tavern and was loudly scolded by his sister, who came angrily to catch him. Unfazed, Ma Yanshan promised before leaving the tavern that he would help her change the name.
Ma Kuxuan's biological younger brother was a genuine good-for-nothing, a hopeless drunkard. Even Ma Yanshan's title of Tanhua (third-place scholar in the imperial exam) was obtained by his sister Ma Yuemei cheating on his behalf.
As for Ma Yuemei, she loved to stir up trouble. At a young age, she had read too many tales of gods and immortals and martial arts adventures. She specially hired a family retainer—a martial arts grandmaster who had retired—to train a group of sword-maidens for her. In the eyes of commoners, these maidens were genuine martial artists, not just showpieces.
Then there was the cousin Ma Che, who was widely recognized at court and among the people as a child prodigy. Ma Kuxuan didn't care about his actual learning or character. Young and full of vigor, so what if he wanted to sleep with a few plump, middle-aged women? If he had the ability, let him sleep with them. What did it matter if they were princesses or titled ladies? If he couldn't sleep with them yet, he could just obediently face those few hand-drawn portraits and use his hands.
Ma Kuxuan smiled and said, "Song Ji, I think my luck is mediocre. What do you think?"
Not daring to argue about the new name, Song Yu timidly said, "I think Immortal Ma's luck is very good."
Ma Kuxuan nodded, apparently quite satisfied with this honest answer, but then he shook his head. "Anyway, my luck isn't as good as these younger members of the family. They have a brother named Ma Kuxuan. Who does Ma Kuxuan call his big brother?"
Song Yu had nothing to say.
Indeed, they all had a backer—the top of Baoping Continent's young talents. As for the identity of a registered disciple of Zhenwu Mountain, Ma Kuxuan himself didn't take it seriously, Zhenwu Mountain didn't take it seriously, and even the outside world didn't seem to take it seriously.
But Ma Yanshan and Ma Yuemei had never even seen this big brother.
Everything about their biological brother Ma Kuxuan was hearsay.
At home, it was just their parents bringing him up. Other than that, they could only rely on rumors.
The Ma family, deeply rooted in Yuxuan Kingdom, now had countless businesses.
They owned the largest restaurant and immortal guesthouse in the capital, an immortal ferry in the capital region, and two private ferryboats that could cross half of Baoping Continent.
But Ma Yanshan had no interest in those flying immortal masters or fairies.
He was a lover of wine. His only two yearnings for his hometown, aside from ancestor worship, were to attend the Night Tour Banquet at Piyun Mountain and have a drink there.
His sister, who looked somewhat like him, cheated on the exam for him, earning him the title of Tanhua. He was supposed to serve in the Hanlin Academy, but he went to work only when he felt like it.
The emperor and the court said nothing.
The family had moved here over twenty years ago, and now four generations lived together, with a sprawling family tree. Including the branches from other houses, the newly revised genealogy supposedly contained over a hundred names.
Ma Kuxuan extended one hand and began counting, bending a finger for each name he thought of, until he formed a fist.
Sword Qi Sect's Xie Ling had just broken through another realm. Zhenwu Mountain's Yu Shiwu was probably Ma Kuxuan's only friend. Lvsong Peak of Yunxia Mountain's Cai Jinjian, the true inheritor of True Realm Sect's Liu Laocheng. Yunlin Jiang clan's Jiang Yun. Wind Thunder Garden's Sword Cultivator Liu Baqiao.
Ma Kuxuan raised his other hand.
Guanhu Academy's Vice Head Zhou Ju. Mountain wild cultivator, Daoist Zhao Xutuo. Fallen Mountain Sword Cultivator Sui Youbian, because she had gone to Tongye Continent and moved her registered identity to the lower sect there, effectively vacating a spot among Baoping Continent's young genius cultivators.
Ma Kuxuan thought for a moment; he seemed to have missed someone, but couldn't remember who.
As for the specific rankings of those eight, Ma Kuxuan certainly couldn't recall them clearly.
Ma Kuxuan bent two fingers and formed a fist again. "Song Ji, have you heard the old saying, 'Dogs that bite don't bark'?"
Song Yu nodded. "Many times."
Ma Kuxuan lifted his head slightly, hands behind his head, and said, "That Zhengyang Mountain, said to be teeming with sword immortals, doesn't understand this simple truth."
Song Yu reminded him softly, "The doors are open; they're about to start the meeting."
Ma Kuxuan nodded. "Then let's just prick up our ears and listen."
Inside the family ancestral hall, today's meeting was solemn and heavy.
Sitting in the main seat was the pampered Ma family patriarch. Beside him was another chair occupied by the very resourceful matriarch of the Ma family.
Thick candles as large as arms illuminated the entire hall like daylight.
A plaque hung above, bearing the hall's name.
Ma Kuxuan hadn't even noticed what it said.
Above everyone's heads, on the beam, two "gentlemen on the beam" went unnoticed by all.
Ma Kuxuan turned his head. That biological younger brother had once had an interesting Q&A with the beautiful wine-selling woman at the mountain goddess's tavern.
"Will it rain tomorrow?" "Definitely not." "But one day it will definitely thunder and rain heavily, right?" "Then just open a big umbrella."
Ma Kuxuan found this Q&A very interesting, which is why he was willing to help Song Yu change the mountain's name. Soon, a document would come down from Deerhorn Mountain, permitting Zheer Mountain to be renamed Zheyao Mountain, with the mountain goddess Song Yu's divine rank unchanged. Of course, this was in exchange for Ma Kuxuan's merits. Changing a mountain name was trivial, not raising the gold statue's rank.
As for whether Song Yu would later change her name to Song Ji, it didn't matter. Changing it had no benefit, not changing it had no harm. Ma Kuxuan had no mood to haggle over such trivial matters.
Inside the hall, two young men, both with official titles, were qualified to sit there.
They often hung out with the noble sons of Yuxuan Kingdom. Whenever they found the capital boring, they would find an excuse to leave and participate in a secret "autumn hunt." They would go to remote areas in a few small southern kingdoms, led by local friends, to hunt. These characters, when in the Yuxuan capital, were groveling lackeys, but in their hometowns, they were top-tier noble youths. These "hunts" involved riding horses in armor, carrying bows and swords, hunting "horse bandits" and "roving bandits," with the full cooperation of local officials.
Ma Kuxuan, sitting on the beam, looked at them, then looked at everyone beyond the two chairs. He suddenly found his biological younger brother Ma Yanshan much more agreeable.
After all, he was one of the few smart ones. All the elders and youngsters in the hall combined were not as smart as Ma Yanshan.
Once upon a time, in the dead of night, a young child was awakened by the noise from the main hall outside. Grandma tried to persuade, but his parents wouldn't listen; instead, they scolded Grandma for being senile. As a result, the Ma family of Apricot Flower Alley obtained a vast fortune, leading to today's prosperous and enviable scenario.
Ma Kuxuan's eyes remained open. He couldn't be bothered to care about anything. He just missed his grandmother.
Also in Yuxuan Kingdom's capital, there were two counties: the wealthy northern county of Yongjia and the poor southern county of Changning.
Not far from Changning County's government office was a courtyard filled with flowers and plants.
Tonight, the weather was good. The red-dressed female ghost Xue Ruyi sat on a swing, gently swaying.
She had several large trunks full of dresses and chose a different one each day, which was also a headache.
Although this place was famously a "haunted mansion," unlike other parts of the capital, even the nearby county city god wouldn't bother her. This was because the former civil judge of the Capital City God Temple, who once governed six departments including the Yin-Yang Department (the chief of all departments), was an old acquaintance of hers. With this connection, although she was a ghost, she followed the rules and had hardly left her home for many years, so no one bothered her.
The middle-aged Daoist who set up a fortune-telling stall went out early and returned late every day, regardless of weather.
He went by the alias Wu Di and claimed his real name was Chen Jianxian. Invincible? Swordsman Chen?
Anyway, hardly a word of truth. His cultivation wasn't high, his skills weren't great, but he was pretty good at naming himself.
She turned to look at the man sitting on the steps, brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth, and casually asked, "Daoist Wu, what realm are you really in? Are you one of those legendary terrestrial immortals? Since we're neighbors who see each other every day, why not be a bit more honest?"
The middle-aged Daoist smiled and shook his head. "This humble Daoist's cultivation aptitude is passable. I wouldn't blush calling it 'acceptable,' but I'm truly not one of those terrestrial immortals recorded in books."
Xue Ruyi sneered. "Wasn't it your motto that 'honesty is paramount when away from home'? If I remember correctly, that's your catchphrase."
The Daoist laughed. "I'm not lying. It's just that Miss Xue doesn't believe me. What can I do? This is harder than making money from someone's pocket."
Xue Ruyi smiled and asked, "You're over forty and not even in the Middle Five Realms. Can your aptitude really be considered 'acceptable'?"
She recalled that when she had asked before how he became a Qi refiner, he had replied with a rather "immortal-like" boast: "In my youth, I once learned the method of climbing mountains."
The reason she was making small talk tonight was that she hadn't expected this charlatan Daoist to be right: on the spring equinox this year, there was no rain in the capital, and the soil was unusually warm.
Moreover, the Daoist had also said something mystical: that on Qingming Festival this year, there might be thunder, and it would be loud, so she shouldn't overthink it.
After that, the Daoist had also displayed some skill in punctuation and exegesis, which truly impressed her.
Last time, Judge Hong and Miss Ji came to visit, or rather "dropped by." The colored door gods on the gate flashed with golden light. Judge Hong was not in official robes but dressed as a refined scholar. His attendant and subordinate, Ji Xiaopin—an heroic woman clad in golden armor with a seven-star coin-shaped Dharma sword on her back—had been in charge of the Yin-Yang Department of the Capital City God Temple for three hundred years.
They addressed the palace-maid-turned-ghost as "Ruyi Niang." Naturally, it was due to an old story long past.
True to their words, the top scholar in the county exam, the first place in the spring provincial exam, and then—except for Ma Che, who came first—the second, third, and fourth places were all predetermined.
The literary fortune of an entire nation was treated as a joke.
The military judge of the Capital City God Temple was involved in this. According to Ji Xiaopin's explanation, that military judge, as highly ranked as Master Hong, had his reasons to prove he wasn't acting corruptly. In fact, it wasn't entirely his fault, as he had exploited loopholes in the underworld laws.
If some devious high-ranking individuals helped plan it, they could indeed tamper with ancestral blessings and virtuous deeds in the living world.
The key was that among the Capital City God Temple's twenty-four departments, the Department of Literary Fortune, which should have been under Judge Hong's direct jurisdiction, had defected to the military judge, forming an alliance.
Although she had long known the inside story, when it actually happened, Xue Ruyi still couldn't stand it. For days, she was so angry she ground her teeth. She would nitpick and curse the Daoist, using him as a punching bag.
Fortunately, the Daoist didn't get annoyed. Once, he muttered to himself, saying something about "certain days every month; understandable." Unfortunately, Xue Ruyi heard him and nearly kicked him.
Tonight, she listened to Xue Ruyi's sighs again.
"Miss Xue, the old saying goes, 'A person should sigh less.'"
The Daoist smiled. "Another old saying goes, 'Haste makes waste; what is fated will come in time.'"
Xue Ruyi laughed angrily. "Easy for you to say, standing there. Besides, 'a person'—one needs to be a person first, right?"
The Daoist laughed. "Man and ghost are different, the clear and dark worlds are separate—that's true. But the Dao has no deviant paths; principle has no dual principles."
Xue Ruyi couldn't help sighing again. This guy had too many principles. Was he really a Daoist and not one of those pedantic scholars who only studied dead books?
Definitely not. Must not be. If he were a real scholar, he wouldn't have so many ways to make money—diverse and resourceful.
Xue Ruyi looked up at the bright moon. She remembered how Ji Xiaopin had once angrily said some taboo truths. The Deerhorn Mountain God's mansion, which governed all the landscape spirits and city god temples in Yuxuan Kingdom, as the storage mountain of the Western Marchmount, had turned a blind eye to the chaotic imperial examinations in Yuxuan. There might be some unknown inside story, or they might be kept in the dark. In any case, the result was that Yuxuan's literary fortune was a complete mess.
Xue Ruyi spoke up. "Daoist Wu, is it really the same everywhere—officials protecting each other?"
The Daoist sat on the steps, placing the white bowl and his toothbrush aside. He crossed his hands over his sleeves, smiled, and said, "To clarify a principle, you have to set aside two extremes and talk about proportions. Within that, there are differences in time and place. Each government office has its own ways—how the chief official is, what local customs are like. For example, take this…"
Xue Ruyi's head was already hurting. She raised a hand. "Stop!"
She was used to it, and the middle-aged Daoist was also long used to it. He was about to get up and leave when he had a sudden idea: he would make himself a midnight snack. Hotpot would be great. There were fresh ingredients in the kitchen. He'd reward his stomach. If needed, he could brush his teeth again.
Xue Ruyi suddenly asked, "Daoist Wu, what do you think? If I were bold enough to ignore the taboos of the landscape officialdom, and tomorrow I went to a city god temple or a civil-military temple, prepared a petition, burned a talisman, and submitted it to the Investigation Department of the Western Marchmount Lord's mansion—do you think it would work?!"
Judge Hong had been transferred to a small prefecture near the Great Li auxiliary capital to serve as a prefectural city god. The prefecture was small, but his divine rank was as high as the famous Chuzhou!
And Ji Xiaopin, as his assistant, had followed Judge Hong out of the Yuxuan capital's city god temple. She could no longer serve as the chief of the Yin-Yang Department there. On the surface, it seemed like a "demotion," but in fact, her divine rank remained the same as her old post, which was a kind of promotion in officialdom.
In fact, after Judge Hong and Ji Xiaopin left their posts, they informed Xue Ruyi that they had greeted Deerhorn Mountain, but if the imperial examination results didn't change, it meant their efforts were useless. She shouldn't act impulsively. After he took up his post as the prefectural city god in the Great Li heartland, he would try his best to inform the storage mountain of the Central Marchmount, Chezi Mountain.
The Daoist smiled. "Up to you, but let me say this beforehand: writing petitions is not my thing. Even if you pay me a lot, no deal!"
Xue Ruyi sighed. "You have the guts to make money, but not to speak out for justice?"
The Daoist just smiled.
She covered her mouth and laughed. "How did your wife take a liking to you back then? Was she after your talent, or did she covet your good looks?"
The Daoist stood there grinning like an idiot.
Xue Ruyi jumped off the swing, grabbed one of the ropes, faced the Daoist, and the female ghost smiled radiantly. "Whether you're the mysterious Daoist Wu or the swordsman Chen who admires swordsmen but isn't one, we've been neighbors for so long. I know that no matter how timid you are, you're still a good person!"
"Good eye!"
The Daoist gave a thumbs up. "To be honest, when I was young and wandering the world, I had an alias: Chen Haoren! I built quite a reputation in foreign lands."
Xue Ruyi said seriously, "I've said my good words. Tomorrow, you move out of this house. I'm not kicking you out; I'm just advising you to stay away from trouble. You haven't stolen or robbed. You earn money by your skills. There's no need to end up covered in mud."
The Daoist smiled and asked, "Miss Xue, from your tone, are you really going to burn talismans and submit a complaint?"
Xue Ruyi pretended to be relaxed. "I might change my mind soon. You can move back the day after tomorrow."
The Western Marchmount of one prefecture—Ganzhou Mountain—its lord was Tong Wenchang.
Was that something Xue Ruyi could even conceive of?
And the Western Marchmount had two storage mountains: besides the Deerhorn Mountain, which was already out of reach, there was also Luan Mountain, whose peaks were towering and unscaleable, several times higher than Ganzhou Mountain.
Although she still didn't dare to think too much about it, compared to Ganzhou Mountain, she might just steel herself, pluck up her courage, and give it a try.
As for the Daoist in front of her, besides making money and drawing talismans, he also seemed to know a bit about aura-watching. He had even seen through the neighbor boy Zhang Hou, who had ancestral protection and literary fortune—a "person in a green gauze cage." Although she was a Sea-Gazing Realm ghost, the art of aura-watching, involving fate, was mysterious and not something ordinary Qi refiners could master. Only accomplished Daoists or the chief of the City God Temple's Department of Literary Fortune could claim to be proficient in it. Of course, a Daoist who could tell fortunes might also count?
The Daoist had once asked her why she didn't become an officially recognized mountain goddess. That would be better than having to watch everyone's face in the capital.
The neighbor boy had an ancestral calligraphy scroll with thirty-six characters. Judge Hong, with his keen eye, had called them thirty-six luminous pearls, containing a profound and pure guiding art, which could be considered Zhang Hou's foundation for the Dao. However, Xue Ruyi's skills in exegesis were mediocre. And Master Hong and Sister Ji were, after all, underworld officials, not suited to revealing heavenly secrets to a living boy. So Xue Ruyi had to bite the bullet, search everywhere, study hard on her own, and explain things to Zhang Hou. This allowed the boy to enter the path of cultivation and become a second-realm Qi refiner.
Then that Daoist "pretended to be a reclusive master and actually pulled it off."
According to the Daoist's correct method of punctuation, and after he taught a cave-opening technique and a fire-refining technique for a fee, Zhang Hou actually broke through to the Liujin Realm!
At first, the Daoist was reluctant, saying he was just a Daoist and didn't dare to mislead the youth.
But when Xue Ruyi offered to buy those "ghost talismans," the money-loving Daoist quickly changed his tune, saying he had long seen that Young Master Zhang was a genius in cultivation…
Even Judge Hong and Ji Xiaopin, when they came to say goodbye to Xue Ruyi last time, couldn't see through the middle-aged Daoist's background or origin. Ji Xiaopin said there were only two possibilities: either he was a high-level terrestrial immortal, or he was truly just a low-realm Qi refiner who set up a stall every day for hard-earned money.
Because of a boy selling spring-cattle pictures, Xue Ruyi had once thought the Daoist was a cold-hearted, hypocritical piece of trash. She almost kicked him out of the house. Later, seeing how pitiful he was, she let it go. Plus, she eventually found out he wasn't that kind of person, which greatly changed her impression of him.
Since she now believed he was a good person, regardless of his identity—whether a real Daoist or a fake sword immortal—he should leave the house early. The world was vast; he could make money anywhere.
The Daoist laughed and asked, "Miss Xue, have you really thought through the consequences? If officials protect each other, and your complaint fails, you might be imprisoned by some mountain god's mansion. What about your bet and oath? What about the neighbor Zhang Hou?"
Xue Ruyi bit her lip and nodded gently.
The Daoist was silent.
In the human world, grievances often come from doing the right thing but being isolated by everyone around you. You haven't done wrong, which is good. Don't doubt yourself for that.
But if, before doing something, you already clearly know the consequences, that's even better. If faced with the same thing again, you might choose not to do it. That's fine. But if you still do it, that's best!
The Daoist smiled and said, "I'll listen to Miss Xue's advice and move out tomorrow. Can Miss Xue also listen to my advice? Put off the complaint until after this year's Qingming Festival?"
Xue Ruyi suppressed a smile. "What, do you need to consult the almanac for filing a complaint to see if it's an auspicious day? Come on, which old saying told you that old wisdom?"
The Daoist's eyes were clear. He didn't speak, just smiled at her, or perhaps at the swing beside her.
Xue Ruyi hesitated.
The Daoist made the decision for her. "Then it's settled."
Xue Ruyi let go of the rope, raised both hands, and rubbed her cheeks vigorously, pouting. "If I had known that impartial mountain goddess of Luan Mountain long ago, hah!"
After all, she was just a lonely ghost. In normal times, let alone submitting a complaint to Luan Mountain, she wouldn't dare come near such a storage mountain's mansion.
The Daoist said, "This humble Daoist doesn't know her either."
Then he added, "But this humble Daoist knows Lord Tong."
Xue Ruyi smiled and asked, "You know Lord Tong. Does Lord Tong know you?"
The middle-aged Daoist was momentarily speechless. Then he tentatively asked, "If I said we know each other, would you believe it?"
Xue Ruyi laughed heartily. "What do you think?!"
The Daoist clasped his hands and smiled. "Miss Xue, then let's meet again in the mountains and waters. Until we meet again?"
Xue Ruyi nodded, remembering something. "Oh, by the way, when are you going to introduce that friend surnamed Zhong you mentioned?"
The Daoist claimed to have several friends on the mountains who were extremely powerful. Among them was a friend surnamed Zhong who would help make introductions.
The Daoist smiled. "Easy to talk about. My friends will surely become your friends."
"Such big talk!"
Xue Ruyi finally couldn't help but double over with laughter, pointing at the Daoist. "Why don't you just say you're Chen Ping'an and be done with it? 'Chen Haoren'—haha…"
The Daoist's eyes were full of laughter, but he pretended to be angry. "How dare you! Even if you don't call me Mountain Lord Chen or Sword Immortal Chen, at least you should call me Master Chen!"
Looking at the middle-aged Daoist in front of her, thinking about the term "Master Chen," and recalling a widely circulated doggerel that didn't quite rhyme—
"The gentleman was handsome and fair, in blue robe with jade hairpin; sword light flashed in the air, and with a swoosh, heads fell…"
Then she looked back at the middle-aged Daoist. He could barely be considered decent-looking, not hideous. But regardless of whatever "Mountain Lord Chen" or "Sword Immortal Chen" nonsense, Daoist, be honest—do you even come close to "handsome and fair"?
She coughed a few times, then went "Ah-too," turning her head as if to spit.
The middle-aged Daoist raised his voice in an "Aiya," turned around, and walked away. "How unseemly!"
——
Outside the old school in Huaihuang County.
Jun Qian said, "Men are not sages; who can be without fault? Knowing a mistake and being able to correct it—there is no greater good."
Ma Zhan's smile grew even more bitter. "Brother Jun Qian, you don't understand. Back then, the senior brother never gave me the chance to personally correct my mistakes."
It turned out that after Ma Zhan died back then, the senior brother, Great Li National Teacher Cui Chan, only gathered Ma Zhan's soul and then made him watch, unable to do anything.
"Moreover, at that time, I didn't think I was wrong. I always believed that Cliff Academy was too lax. Compared to Brother Qi's hands-off approach, allowing those scholarly seeds to go to other countries to study, at least eighty percent never returned. Among those who did come back, one in ten had barely survived outside. So I agreed more with the approach of Vice Minister of Personnel Shen Chen. 'Choosing to leave is your freedom, but then whether you can become an official in Great Li won't be so free.'"
Jun Qian said, "I really don't know how to comfort people."
Besides, he didn't understand the ins and outs and rights and wrongs of those days. He just felt that since the youngest junior brother was willing to invite Ma Zhan here, it meant he recognized Ma Zhan's senior brother status within their lineage.
The youngest junior brother's recognition was essentially the teacher's continued acknowledgment of Ma Zhan as his student.
Otherwise, Jun Qian's relationship with Ma Zhan, or even Mao Xiaodong, had been quite ordinary back then.
Seeing that the atmosphere was a bit heavy, Jun Qian had to break the silence. "I guess the senior brother deliberately set a trap for you."
Ma Zhan shook his head. "Flies don't bite seamless eggs. Even as junior brothers, the senior brother wouldn't scheme against Mao Xiaodong like that."
"Mao Xiaodong's ambition is only to teach and educate, to pass on knowledge and resolve doubts, so that those who love learning can learn. He is clearly more of a true Confucian than I am. I had too much selfish ambition, wanting to take control of Cliff Academy, change its course, so that the scholarly seeds of Great Li wouldn't go elsewhere to seek fame and then swagger back to take office. After I became a proper gentleman of the Confucian Academy, I would then incorporate Senior Brother Cui's practical philosophy, enter the Great Li court as Minister of Rites, and eventually become a Confucian sage, enshrined as a sacrificial sage in the Confucian Temple!"
"At that time, I thought: our Wen Sheng lineage—the teacher's statue was removed from the Confucian Temple, all his works were banned in the Haoran World, and even the statue was smashed by bastards! Senior Brother Cui turned against tradition, effectively drawing a clear line with the lineage. Meanwhile, Junior Brother Zuo went out to sea to seek immortals, focusing solely on swordsmanship! You, Liu Shiliu, though the teacher's disciple, never bore the burden of the lineage. What good is a high realm? He, Qi Jingchun, only guarded Cliff Academy, which was just a few steps from the Great Li capital. He came all the way to Baoping Continent, but instead of helping Senior Brother Cui, he restrained him at every turn. Did Qi Jingchun truly have no regard for brotherly feelings? Was he just a bully at home?!"
Hearing this, Jun Qian didn't get angry, but felt a bit guilty. After all, Ma Zhan's complaints about him were hard to refute. Among the brothers, he was indeed the most unreliable and useless.
As for the curses against Senior Brother Zuo and Junior Brother Qi, they wouldn't care anyway. If Senior Brother Zuo heard, at most he'd pat Ma Zhan's head and say, "Family matters," before hitting him.
Ma Zhan's face was pallid. "In the end, I was completely wrong. It's always been like this. I knew I was slow in learning. Not to mention Senior Brother Cui, the teacher used to say that Senior Brother Cui was almost qualified to teach him. Qi Jingchun had natural talent; he could draw inferences from one instance. He only needed to read the sages' books once to grasp them thoroughly. Every time I asked him for advice, no matter how obscure the book or how arcane the knowledge, he seemed to have already seen it and had a ready answer. For things he hadn't seen, Qi Jingchun would have me read the entire passage aloud, and after hearing it once, he could resolve my doubts. He was always right. Because I would secretly ask the teacher the same questions many times, and the teacher's answers differed only slightly from Qi Jingchun's. Asking Senior Brother Cui also yielded similar answers. I originally thought that being slow was fine; I just wouldn't compete with Qi Jingchun. As long as I could avoid making mistakes in my studies, that would be enough. Unlike Mao Xiaodong, who genuinely wanted to be Qi Jingchun's assistant and a teacher, I came here because Senior Brother Cui was the National Teacher of Great Li."
Back then, the person who conspired with him, Ma Zhan, was Cui Minghuang of Guanhu Academy—a member of Senior Brother Cui's clan.
Yet the more obvious it was, the more Ma Zhan didn't care. He indeed had selfish motives, but he believed his selfishness was never greater than his public-minded desire to revive the Wen Sheng lineage.
When everything came to light and Ma Zhan was utterly ashamed, the senior brother remained the senior brother. He didn't comfort Ma Zhan. Instead, with cold eyes and a slightly sarcastic tone, he delivered a final verdict, like a parting gift to this former junior brother, who inwardly admired his senior brother Cui Chan the most.
Ma Zhan leaned against the school wall.
He repeated Senior Brother Cui's heart-piercing words verbatim to Brother Jun Qian.
"Ma Zhan, you could have become the head of Piyun Mountain's Linlu Academy and concurrently the Minister of Personnel of Great Li. That was one of the retreat paths I arranged for you. But you didn't want it. I couldn't force you to take it. So tell me, how stupid must you be to think that a person's public and private motives can be added and subtracted?"
"In fact, you never understood that your lack of intelligence was never about being slow in reading. The teacher always said you were a bit slow in reading, and you thought he was criticizing you, but it was actually a compliment. So you never knew that the old scholar often privately told me to learn more from you. I remember once, when the old scholar was drunk, he was very proud and said, 'Hey, our Wen Sheng lineage is about to produce a true Confucian who accumulates slowly and matures late!'"
"In the end, like sunning books, you exposed the dark side of the human heart under the sun—ugly and unbearable."
"At this point, even if the old scholar, your teacher, could forgive you, could you, Ma Zhan, truly forgive yourself? How can a student who never corrected his mistakes or made amends have the face to forgive himself and meet his teacher again?"
Unconsciously, Ma Zhan had sat down on the ground, leaning against the wall.
"I, Cui Chan, break my rules to speak harshly because, over the years, I occasionally think of that young man from a poor, remote place who traveled thousands of miles to seek learning. Among the countless scholars with diverse hearts, he was shabbily dressed, with only the last bit of travel money left. Instead of saving it for his return journey, he couldn't help himself and, gritting his teeth, bought an expensive book at a bookshop, just to have something to remember even if his studies failed. I happened to be at that bookshop too, so I asked this young man, 'What's your name? Why buy this book? You've been taken advantage of. Since the content is the same, why spend extra on this fine edition?' He said his name was Ma Zhan, courtesy name Huijun. He also said his ambition was to cultivate himself, regulate the family, govern the state, and bring peace to the world, and to make contributions, to do practical things for the people of his hometown."
Speaking up to this point, Ma Zhan's expression was wooden, staring blankly. Then he looked up and smiled. "Brother Jun Qian, I came here secretly this time. Don't tell Chen Ping'an, and especially don't tell the teacher."
Jun Qian nodded.
Ma Zhan forced a smile. "Brother Jun Qian, I know you can't keep secrets. Don't slip up."
Jun Qian smiled. "Guaranteed."
He should never have come to see Ma Zhan. He should have left this headache to the youngest junior brother.
A person's grievances may come from the disapproval of outsiders, but the lack of understanding from those close to you can be even more self-doubting, self-negating, and heartbreaking.
Then, if someone you deeply respect and admire utterly negates you, how heartbreaking must that be?
That was Ma Zhan.
As Ma Zhan had said earlier, only Cui Chan—who had long since turned against the lineage—was still called Senior Brother Cui. The other direct disciples of the teacher were all called by their names.
Ma Zhan seemed to remember something, and a hint of a smile appeared on his face.
Cui Chan had said he "occasionally thought" of someone and something.
But Ma Zhan, even until today, even at this moment, even after being so thoroughly negated by Senior Brother Cui, still remembered that chance meeting in the bookshop vividly, engraved on his heart.
In that bookshop full of the scent of ink and paper, the young man in Confucian robes, with a gentle expression, patiently listened to Ma Zhan's words, then introduced himself with a smile.
"Hello, I'm Cui Chan, the senior disciple of Wen Sheng."
"From now on, you are probably a registered disciple of our Wen Sheng lineage. Because I've agreed, and the teacher still needs to nod, but that's just a formality."
"But whether you can become the teacher's direct disciple in the future, Ma Zhan, will depend on yourself. Of course, if you encounter any problems in your studies, you don't have to bother the teacher every time—you can ask me."
Ma Zhan exhaled, stood up, and smiled.
To have become the teacher's student, Senior Brother Cui's junior brother, was enough for this life. No regrets.
The former first disciple of Wen Sheng, in those years, was always polite, gentle, and approachable.
There had long been an idiom in the books, as if waiting for Cui Chan's appearance.
"He is lovely as the winter sun."
At that moment, a figure in blue robes appeared out of thin air beside Jun Qian.
He asked with a puzzled expression, "Ma Zhan, I find it strange. So much time has passed, and you still haven't figured out why Senior Brother Cui bothered to say those few extra words to you?"
After recognizing the person's identity, Ma Zhan immediately glared angrily at Brother Jun Qian beside him.
Jun Qian put on a serious face and shamelessly said, "I only said the word 'guaranteed'; I didn't guarantee not to tell anyone."
Ma Zhan was silent for a moment. "How so? May I ask, Mountain Lord Chen, what was strange about Senior Brother Cui's words?"
Since the other party addressed him by name, Ma Zhan would reciprocate by calling him Mountain Lord Chen.
That was better.
Chen Ping'an said, "What Senior Brother Cui said was, of course, all true. He left you a retreat, called you stupid, said you have a dark side to your heart that's hard to look at, that you don't dare to sun your books under the sun. He deliberately didn't give you a chance to correct mistakes, making it hard for you to forgive yourself, making you daily self-pitying and regretful. The teacher once had high hopes for you, but you always underestimate yourself, while secretly envying Brother Qi. Finally, Senior Brother Cui dealt the cruelest blow: he showed you a once-beautiful version of yourself—a scholar that even he, Cui Chan, was willing to accept as a junior brother on behalf of the teacher."
Ma Zhan remained silent, his eyes dim, his heart like ashes.
Jun Qian kept his eyes on the tip of his nose, his heart on his heart, determined not to get involved in such internal strife. He had suffered too many such losses.
It was a good habit he had developed early on: at most, he would step in to mediate when brothers started fighting. Before that, he would just watch the argument. That way, he wouldn't end up being the bad guy to both sides. When Brother Zuo beat up Junior Brother Qi, or when Junior Brother Qi chased Senior Brother Cui to fight, or when Junior Brother Qi dragged the teacher to beat Brother Zuo, Jun Qian would always try to mediate. The results were never good. The two brothers would reconcile, and he would be the one disliked by both. Fine, so my well-intentioned mediation was seen as fanning the flames?
Seeing that the other party didn't respond, or else Chen Ping'an would have fought back.
You, Ma Zhan, have the face to come to this old school, but not the face to go to Fallen Mountain?
Quite the airs, thinking you're still the senior brother?
After waiting a moment, Ma Zhan still remained silent.
Chen Ping'an then continued, "Senior Brother Cui spoke those so-called harsh words because he thought you were still worth saving. But facts have proven that you still can't save yourself."
Ma Zhan asked, "How so?"
Chen Ping'an pretended to be surprised, made a "Eh" sound, and asked, "'How so?' 'What? ' Next, are you going to ask 'Mountain Lord Chen, how to put it? How to discuss it?'"
Ma Zhan was momentarily speechless.
Jun Qian could only suppress his laughter.
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "It's also about teaching a junior brother the knowledge beyond books. For you, Ma Zhan, the difficulty was at most passing the provincial exam, and you still failed. For me, the questionnaire that Senior Brother himself designed had a difficulty level of at least ranking in the top three of the imperial exam to barely pass, and getting first place to earn a 'Fair' rating."
He paused for a moment and smiled to himself. "Of course, I didn't pass either."
Ma Zhan nodded.
Chen Ping'an's smile faded, and he said seriously, "Senior Brother Cui intentionally led you to dwell on the word 'forgiveness.' He wanted you to go in circles around that word. Back then, you bit the hook once, and now you've done it a second time. Calling you stupid, Senior Brother Cui was already being polite. If it were me—well, I'm not senior enough, my skin isn't thick enough. I'm just a solitary Mountain Lord Chen without ties. I don't have the qualifications to scold you. Our lineage hasn't expelled Ma Zhan. You have the face to call Jun Qian 'Brother,' but I don't have the face to call you 'Senior Brother Ma.'"
As Chen Ping'an spoke, his tone turned sour.
Jun Qian quickly coughed a few times. He wanted to remind him, but held back.
Little junior brother, scolding is fine, but don't drag yourself into it.
Brother Jun Qian, I can barely hold myself back from fighting. What more do you want?
If you keep scolding like this, Ma Zhan might turn hostile.
Fine, let him turn hostile. I can't beat Senior Brother Cui, but I can't beat a Ma Zhan?
Go ahead, keep scolding. This senior brother has seen it all. Two people arguing—either spitting at each other or, at the end, butting heads. I've witnessed it all.
Chen Ping'an said, "Ma Zhan, let me ask you: why are you so tangled up in whether to forgive yourself or be forgiven by others? What Senior Brother Cui wants is for you to spend this life never thinking about forgiving yourself. Even if you do many things later—many good and correct things that ease your conscience—you must persist in not forgiving the self that once made mistakes. Only a Ma Zhan like that would be truly worthy of being forgiven by him, Cui Chan, and by your teacher."
Ma Zhan was completely muddled, staring blankly. Was it really like that? Was it that simple? But it seemed very hard, not simple at all.
Chen Ping'an said, "Our teacher once said, 'Speaking when appropriate is wisdom. Being silent when appropriate is also wisdom.'"
"So, in my view, speaking and silence, saying and not saying, principle and action, doing and not doing—they must be consistent. If you achieve that, you are a true Confucian. You don't need the Confucian Temple to give you an identity or a title; you are already a gentleman. From the individual, the household, the family, to the academy, the county, the state, the world—it should be the same. This principle has no dual principle."
"First, if you make a mistake that can be corrected, correct it. For every mistake, correct it. Correct the mistake in action, and acknowledge it in your heart."
"Second, if there is no chance to correct a mistake, and the situation is already set, never deceive yourself or let the mistake slide. Instead, do your best to remedy it. Afterward, never forgive yourself, never think about absolving yourself. Never turn the page. Always feel guilt and suffer because of it."
"Above the human heart, public and private must be distinguished. Right and wrong cannot be added or subtracted either. For every mistake, it is one mistake. As for remedial actions—first, don't make the same mistake again. Furthermore, you need to be right twice, three times, even ten times, a hundred times."
"Finally."
Chen Ping'an paused here and smiled. "As for the final part, think about it yourself."
Jun Qian listened carefully, nodding all along.
Ma Zhan straightened his clothes, his expression solemn. First, he straightened his back, then he bowed deeply to Chen Ping'an.
Chen Ping'an hesitated, about to bow in return, but Jun Qian grabbed his arm and shook his head, indicating he didn't need to return the bow. "Same reasoning—just accept it."
Chen Ping'an then stood still and received that solemn bow.
Jun Qian spoke to him via telepathy. "These principles were well said."
Chen Ping'an exhaled deeply and replied likewise. "After all, I am the teacher's last disciple. Besides, I have many students these days."
But three of the school's children had run away. He had to hope Xiao Mili didn't know about it yet.
No, Zhao Shuxia was fine—he knew the family's style. But he had forgotten to remind Ning Ji. He didn't know Xiao Mili's ability to gather information. He had to get back quickly.
Pei Qian had once revealed a secret: Xiao Mili had a precious manual she never showed anyone—a thin booklet.
It didn't have much text, but it was full of her insights on how to be a good informant. Some days she'd write a few characters, other days an idiom or a sentence. She only wrote one page each time, but over time, it was nearly half full.
For example, the first page of that manual just said: "Look more, listen more, speak less. Remember, remember!" "Visit often, move around, read expressions, watch eight sides, listen in four directions; probe indirectly, talk about other things… The Art of War has thirty-six stratagems. Just strive to learn one stratagem per day. After thirty-six days, wow wow wow! (Note: Must write more 'wows' to better motivate yourself.)… Treat others sincerely, don't tell lies, but must be ambiguous and unpredictable, leaving people puzzled…"
At the table outside Fallen Mountain's gate, Xiao Mili, hearing a few unintentional words from one of the Good Man Mountain Lord's new students, furrowed her little brows and said angrily, "This makes me so mad!"