Chapter 1066: How Many Turn Their Gaze to the Blue Robe

Chapter 1066: How Many Turn Their Gaze to the Blue Robe

The vast rippling waves stretched beneath a sky of clouds and water—a true celestial realm.

In the lake were over a thousand islands, scattered like stars, like snail shells in a jade-green plate.

Near the "Ancestral Mountain," the heart of the lake where the Damu Temple and the Lake Lord's Shrine stood, two islands of vastly different sizes lay not far apart, facing each other across the water.

The larger Jade Hairpin Island was densely packed with palaces and mansions. Because the Lake Lord's Flower preferred tranquility and disliked outsiders setting foot on the Ancestral Mountain, Jade Hairpin Island had long served as the reception grounds for Qiuji Lake. Now, the rulers of four kingdoms were lodging there, along with several mountain and water deities who maintained good relations with Qiuji Lake. These deities deliberately kept their distance from the various imperial courts, neither alienating nor growing close to them. But both sides knew this was only temporary. Behind the scenes, the courts of the kingdoms were engaged in an invisible division of the world. Qi Refiners could ride clouds and mists, wandering without fixed abode; mountain and water deities could close their doors and stay put. But the cultivation sites that gathered heaven's and earth's spiritual energy, and the temples that enjoyed the incense of the people, were firmly rooted. Moreover, temple incense came from the common folk, and those common folk each had their own household registrations. If the court officials were determined to let a licentious shrine lose its incense, they only needed to set up checkpoints on a few major roads.

Nearby, Snail Da'Island had been temporarily allocated by the Damu Temple to those independent spirits, strange ghosts, mountain and wild cultivators, as well as a group of martial arts grandmasters who had risen to fame in the past twenty years.

Those who had not managed to board either island should know their place and lower their voices. In the eyes of Qiuji Lake, they were beneath consideration.

On Jade Hairpin Island, a rare reunion of old acquaintances took place. In the early days, they had had no irreconcilable feuds, so today's drinking session was relaxed and pleasant.

The host of this gathering was Tang Tieyi, the new emperor of Northern Jin, who had usurped the throne. The saber at his waist was called "Refining Master," a genuine heavy treasure of the mountains.

Cheng Yuanshan, nicknamed "Arm Saint," had been so afraid of death in the past that he did nothing and survived to the end. He could have reaped a big reward, but his excessive cowardice caused him to miss out on the immortal opportunity atop the city wall. In the end, he secretly threw in his lot with Yu Zhenyi, who had ascended the mountain and cultivated immortality. He finally got his wish and was granted an immortal blessing.

In former years, Zhou Shuzhen, the Grand Dowager of Nanyuan Kingdom and former mistress of the Admiration Tower, had turned to Qi Refining. After she began practicing a dozen or so immortal breathing techniques that were no longer castles in the air or "dragon-slaying arts," she stepped down from her position as tower master and devoted herself to cultivation.

Unlike the Qi Refiners of other immortal abodes, she possessed a library that was unrivaled in both the quantity and quality of its secret manuals. It was rumored to contain no shortage of immortal texts, so she could pick and choose. In previous years, the part of the chicken-rib books that the Admiration Tower had dismissed as nonsense were all personally sorted by her, then carefully placed on the highest floor, where she set up a mountain-and-water restriction—a talisman array technique she had learned on the spot from an old book.

These former martial arts grandmasters, once renowned throughout the world, were now openly Cave Abode realm Qi Refiners.

But even if each had hidden reserves and might be at a higher realm, they were still far inferior to the Grand Emperor of Nanyuan Kingdom, Wei Liang, who was at the bottleneck of the Dragon Gate realm.

Their participation in this Qiuji Lake council was their first meeting in years, allowing them to temporarily set aside identities and personal grudges. Unexpectedly, when they met again, they had all changed to the same identity—Qi Refiners. They couldn't help but sigh with emotion. Many of the senior figures who had once shared the same martial world were now scattered and gone.

Of course, there was no definitive realm classification here. On the mountains, there were only two recognized thresholds. The first was a Qi Refiner's ability to store and nourish spiritual energy within the small heaven and earth of one's own body.

As for the second threshold, it was unique to Gao Jun of the Lake Mountain Sect—the ability to achieve what the strange books called "Yin Spirit leaving the body for far travel." It was truly beyond comprehension and ineffably wonderful.

As they drank and enjoyed the scenery, their conversations inevitably revolved around the demon Ding Ying, the young sword immortal Chen Ping'an, the Spring Tide Palace's Zhou Pang, the Bird's Eye Peak's Lu Fang, and further back, the "Martial Madman" whom no one had ever seen.

Cheng Yuanshan laughed loudly: "When I was young and learning spear techniques, I always thought Zhu Lian was a complete layman. He said that ancient martial grandmasters almost all focused on lower-body stability, so all the changes were bound to the 'stance.' Real good skills were often not pretty to look at—for example, a spear moves in a straight line, with no flashy wide swings. At the time, I scoffed at such crude talk. But as I trained, I discovered he was right—it was nothing more than that. Boring, too boring."

Fortunately, times had changed. The martial path was ultimately a dead end with limited achievements. Without cultivating immortal techniques, how could mortals speak of eternal life?

An old man sitting beside him, with a saber resting across his knee, chuckled: "With a face like that, why would he need good technique? Even if Zhu Lian rolled around on the ground covered in mud, if a woman saw him, she would still think it was beautiful."

Tang Tieyi nodded in agreement: "Envious beyond words."

It was rumored that this former Grand General of Northern Jin had once intended to marry the princess of Nanyuan Kingdom, but she had refused. Tang Tieyi was not bad-looking at all, so the only reason could be that she disliked his age?

Now white-haired and white-bearded, Wu Que was a long-established expert of the saber, of the same generation as Tang Tieyi. Wu Que was slightly older, but younger than Yu Zhenyi and Zhong Qiu. He had missed the excitement in Nanyuan Kingdom last time because he had an old score to settle in his hometown, and he still regretted it.

With the strange phenomena across the world, immortals and ghosts—originally intangible existences—had appeared out of thin air. Wu Que had personally killed a haunting ghost. Using various methods, he had either bought at a high price or seized by force a few so-called mountain scripture. But the immortal secret manuals—he could recognize every word, but when strung together, they were completely incomprehensible.

Things like "breathe and refine Qi, compress breath into a single line as a river, then condense spirit into a mustard seed," "sun-refining techniques, moon-worshipping arts," and so on. No matter how Wu Que pondered and tried repeatedly, it didn't work. He simply wasn't cut out to be an immortal. So he gave up and continued to practice his martial arts, tempering his body bit by bit. Fortunately, someone had proven on his path that if you could push martial arts to the extreme, its momentum was not low, and its killing power was not inferior to that of so-called Qi Refiners.

Wu Que sneered: "That sissy Zhong Qian—why hasn't he shown up yet?"

That young upstart who had come out of nowhere was incredibly lucky. He had taken an old martial path that people like Tang Tieyi had abandoned, and inexplicably became a top grandmaster. It was said that this young martial artist could walk on a dark road without lifting a hand, and ghosts and evil spirits would voluntarily retreat, not daring to approach.

Zhou Shuzhen rolled her eyes, her voice sweet: "Back then, when you could beat him, you didn't go all out. Now you'd better watch out—he might let you use one hand and beat you like a strong man bullying a child."

Wu Que curled his lip, stroking his saber scabbard: "At that time, I didn't think much of that guy—didn't matter if he had balls or not. My disciple had a minor grudge with him, and I'm a generation above, so there was no need to kill him. I just fed him a few punches and gave him some pointers. So now if that kid Zhong Qian sees me and calls me 'Master,' it's not too much, and I'll accept it."

Nowadays, outside the mountains, you had all sorts of rankings: the Four Grandmasters of the Martial World, the Ten Great Experts of the World, for those who used swords, sabers, spears, and other weapons—they might even list them separately, pulling in whoever they could to fill the numbers. All kinds of messy rankings kept popping up. Only the two lists from the Admiration Tower were relatively convincing: one was a ranking for martial arts grandmasters, the other ranked immortal mansions and cultivation sites.

Cheng Yuanshan raised his wine cup, pointing at the mountaintop on the neighboring island: "Tower Master Zhou, let me ask you something. That Jiang Shenzi, only twenty years old, wears a mask all the time, hiding his head, covering his tail—no one knows his background. Where did this weird creature come from? I hear that in the martial arts ranking your Admiration Tower is about to release, he ranks very high. After Zhong Qian at the top, can this kid compete with Wu Que and that saber user Wu Jiang for the top three?"

Zhou Shuzhen smiled charmingly: "He's a ghost in origin. As for his actual age, I'm no fortune-telling immortal. But Jiang Shenzi has a stubborn temper. As a lonely wandering ghost, he should be practicing heterodox immortal arts, but he won't refine Qi. Instead, he's dead set on learning martial arts. Isn't that asking for trouble?"

"A few years ago, he somehow found the exact address of the Admiration Tower. Outside, he kowtowed frantically and cried his eyes out, begging the Tower to give him a few martial arts secret manuals. We couldn't chase him away. No matter who asked him why, he only said he wanted to take revenge on someone. How the enmity started, who he wanted revenge on—we couldn't get anything more out of him."

"Later, I saw he was truly pitiful and didn't seem like the kind of fierce ghost who would do evil and cause chaos, so I had a disciple toss him three random manuals: a boxing technique, a swordsmanship manual, and an introductory Daoist scripture on ghost Qi refining. None of them were profound. When the Admiration Tower gave them out, we made it clear they were valuable but not priceless. Still, he was so grateful he wept. Clutching the three books, he knelt respectfully, kowtowed three times to the Admiration Tower, and left."

Wu Que was stunned, glancing askance at Snail Da'Island: "That Jiang Shenzi is actually a ghost? And what about Wu Jiang? Is he also a wild ghost by origin?"

Since both used sabers, they naturally had to compete for first and second place. The young martial artist named Wu Jiang used a saber, and in over a decade of roaming the martial world, he had never been defeated.

Zhou Shuzhen shook her head: "Of course Wu Jiang is not. He's a living person. As for who passed down his saber techniques, the Admiration Tower only has some clues and guesses, related to this person..."

She only pointed at the sky and said not another word.

Wu Que was puzzled: "A personal disciple of Old Immortal Yu?"

The Lake Mountain Sect had two lineages: the immortal arts went to Gao Jun, and the martial arts went to Wu Jiang. Old Patriarch Yu's choice was not bad.

Zhou Shuzhen shook her head, her expression complex, and said softly: "It's the other one."

Wu Que and Cheng Yuanshan instantly understood. It was the strange man who had been a "mutual pain" to "Immortal Yu." This man had fought a battle with Yu Zhenyi once every ten years.

After the demon Ding Ying was killed, it was this man who had gathered the remaining remnants of the demon sect and reorganized them. Under his leadership, the sect's numbers—both in the open and in the shadows, behind the scenes and on the stage—had grown to a terrifying scale. In those days, if you knew a bit of martial arts and went out into the world, you had better call yourself a demon sect member when greeting others, or you might be knocked out, stripped naked, stuffed into a sack, and thrown into a busy marketplace. They never killed anyone, but no one could afford to lose face.

That "young man" was so eccentric. And crucially, he could go toe-to-toe with Yu Zhenyi, the first person in the world to ascend the mountain and cultivate immortal arts.

"Someone who cultivates immortality on the mountain bullies us who practice martial arts below. Do you have any shame, Yu Zhenyi?"

He said it with such righteous indignation. But the problem was, this guy was even more shameless than Immortal Yu. Didn't his moves also mix in spells and immortal techniques endlessly?

Otherwise, how could their duels shatter mountains and change rivers?

All for fun.

Everything everyone else craved and pursued seemed to come easily to him, and he could discard it like worthless trash.

Indeed, there was no one more "cynical" in the world. A twice-in-a-century martial genius like Ding Ying or Yu Zhenyi?

A hero who lies drunk on a beauty's lap? A warlord contending for the world? They seemed like, yet were not.

In those days, the entire martial world said that if this man truly wanted to seize the world, then Wei Liang, Tang Tieyi, and the others who were coincidentally emperors might as well stretch out their necks and wait to be killed.

Zhou Shuzhen dared not even mention his name.

It was because he had visited the Admiration Tower—more than once or twice. The exact number was hard to say, because if he didn't want Zhou Shuzhen to know, she wouldn't.

The first time he visited the Admiration Tower, he said he was looking for a few books for a young boy.

Later, there was another time. Zhou Shuzhen went to the forbidden area of the Admiration Tower to organize the rare editions on the top floor. She saw a stunningly handsome white-clad youth floating cross-legged on a cushion, a legendary luminous pearl on his head, his hands paddling like a swimmer, gliding "back and forth" between two rows of bookshelves. When he noticed Zhou Shuzhen's dumbfounded expression, he reached up, plucked the pearl, and praised her: "Sister, you really have the art of preserving youth—you're well-maintained, no change from last time. If you turn to cultivating immortal arts, you'll definitely live a long time..." As he spoke, he tossed the pearl to Zhou Shuzhen, flicked his sleeve, and said he had just picked a few books as payment for the Admiration Tower.

Zhou Shuzhen forced herself to stay calm and boldly asked him: "Lord Jiao, can I truly cultivate immortal arts?"

The handsome white-clad youth smiled and nodded: "With your talent and comprehension, of course you can. Just be patient. You possess a mountain of books. In terms of time and harmony, you're slightly inferior to Gao Jun. But in terms of earthly advantage, you're far ahead of that girl. What's there to fear about not becoming an immortal?"

The white-clad youth stood up, his robes billowing. A white horsetail whisk with a golden handle appeared in his hand out of thin air. With his appearance, such transcendent elegance made him truly seem like one of the immortals from the strange books.

"My name is Lu Tai. With your Admiration Tower's broad information, Sister Zhou must know that, right?"

Zhou Shuzhen nodded woodenly.

He had introduced himself by name and identity last time. He was very straightforward when visiting as a guest, and Zhou Shuzhen's memory wasn't that bad.

"Then, I have a dog named Lu Chen. Does Sister Zhou know that?"

Zhou Shuzhen shook her head blankly.

Lu Tai suddenly widened his eyes: "What the hell—put down that saber right now! Don't scare our Sister Zhou!"

"Good disciple, the name you chose—I really have to hand it to you. Tao Xieyang, when you draw your saber, you never walk the straight path. I told you not to be so devious with the saber, but you wouldn't listen. Stubborn as a mule, aren't you?"

"Sister Zhou, I don't need to introduce this guy—he's our demon sect's second-in-command, infamous enough to make righteous people's hair stand on end. Tao Xieyang is always trying to pick up a big score from his master, follow Ding Ying's example of killing Zhu Lian in the old days. If he can personally kill Yu Zhenyi, he can seize Yu Zhenyi's martial fortune. Tao Xieyang will soon be a Far Travel realm martial artist. Haven't heard that term? It means martial artists can fly. Amazing, right? Isn't that something you martial artists only dream about? So outside, Far Travel realm is also called Earth Overturning realm, very fitting. Does reaching this realm make you a true martial grandmaster? Ha, you're still far off. A third-rate nobody like Tao Xieyang—outside, he might just glare at someone on the road and get slapped to death."

In an instant, Zhou Shuzhen felt a cold chill on the back of her neck.

Her body tensed, sweat pouring down her back. She didn't even dare to turn her head. Even after the blade withdrew from her neck, her hair stood on end, as if she had walked through the gates of hell.

Lu Tai laughed: "Sister Zhou, be brave and turn around. Get acquainted with them. With me, their master, here, they won't dare to misbehave."

Zhou Shuzhen had no choice but to slowly turn around.

A man, holding a saber scabbard against a bookshelf, shook his hand and grinned: "Tao Xieyang, because of poor aptitude and an improper heart, is my master's unsuccessful disciple."

A little farther away, a young man holding a book looked up, smiled, and introduced himself: "Huan Yin, Seventh Realm martial artist, Mid-Five Realms Qi Refiner, but a sword cultivator. Unfortunately, I'm also not favored by my master."

Further away, near the window on this floor, a man in a purple Daoist robe with his hands hidden in his sleeves turned around, shook out his robe, and made a Daoist greeting to Zhou Shuzhen: "Huang Shang, Daoist of Nanyuan Kingdom, pays respects to Tower Master Zhou."

Lu Tai, along with his cushion, floated down to the ground and chuckled: "The Guardian Daoist of Nanyuan Kingdom, Huang Shang, is actually my direct disciple. He barely knows a few talisman techniques. Even your Admiration Tower didn't know that inside story, huh? Ha, a Golden Core cultivator—outside, they're all land immortals. But he's an outsider, useless."

"These three are all my lousy disciples. An eyesore. I don't usually like to keep them by my side. Each of them has mediocre talent in martial arts and Dao cultivation, and their hearts aren't quite right. But at least they have high sights despite low hands—they're all gunning for Yu Zhenyi, each grabbing treasure, dividing up the martial fortune, the ancient sword, the Daoist crown. Pity, pity—it's very uncertain."

"Since we're here, a guest brings a gift. Huang Shang, leave two talismans. Pick the Rain Dragon Talisman and the Raised Eyebrow Talisman. Tao Xieyang, kill those spies hidden in the Admiration Tower. As for Huan Yin, teach Tower Master Zhou a breathing technique via heart-to-heart communication. She'll need it later, so she won't have to worry. She sits on a mountain of books but doesn't know where to start."

"As for me, this cushion, a Dharma artifact rank, I'll give it to Sister Zhou as an advance gift to celebrate your future breakthrough to the Cave Abode realm."

Having said this, Lu Tai smiled brightly and grabbed Zhou Shuzhen's arm: "So, as a return gift, Sister Zhou, let's go to your residence. A woman like Sister Zhou—plump, alluring, and coldly beautiful—how wonderful. She knows everything she should, and what she doesn't, she'll learn with one lesson!"

How could Zhou Shuzhen tolerate such an insult? She gritted her teeth and swung a sharp hand-knife, slicing off the white-clad youth's head... The feel was real—she had succeeded!

But then another white-clad youth brushed past her, bent down, reached out, and slapped her round bottom. A loud *smack* rang out. Lu Tai shook his hand and walked away laughing: "Ouch, what a feel! Such elasticity! Sister, you've definitely practiced martial arts. Alas, in the end, you're still not a Qi Refiner who drinks morning dew. You still have to go to the outhouse and shit. Thinking of that makes me disheartened... Oh, right, Zhou Shuzhen. The real return gift from the Admiration Tower is to have you do one thing... You'll forget these contents soon, but when the time comes, you'll remember."

When Zhou Shuzhen, burning with shame and anger, finally calmed her mind and looked again, Lu Tai and his disciples had quietly left.

Zhou Shuzhen sighed softly. How unbearable the past was—every time she thought of it, it wrenched her heart.

Pulling herself together, Zhou Shuzhen tentatively communicated heart-to-heart: "Tang Tieyi, last night Sect Leader Gao invited the four of you over? What, did she put on the airs of the number one under heaven and tell you to stop fighting, to stop wasting people's money and energy?"

Tang Tieyi raised his wine cup and laughed: "Let's not talk about that. Drink."

Zhou Shuzhen lowered her eyes, staring at the wine in her cup.

Even though she had only been cultivating for a few years, and her Daoist practice was shallow and insignificant.

But.

If that day ever came.

She would not hesitate to die fighting foreign invaders.

This human world is our world.

It must be so!

Zhou Shuzhen tilted her head and drained her cup. She looked around, taking in as much of her homeland as she could while she still lived.

On the neighboring Snail Da'Island, there was another group of younger martial artists, or "new faces" from the mountains. They and the established seniors like Tang Tieyi kept a stance of mutual non-interference.

Don't provoke each other; they were sick of each other.

Jiang Shenzi, in a cotton long coat, mask on his face, carried a long cloth bundle slantwise on his back.

As a rising star in the martial world, he was not on Lake Mountain Sect's Sect Leader Gao's invitation list. He had come uninvited, but Qiuji Lake still arranged a mansion for him on Snail Da'Island.

However, the mansion was halfway up the mountain. Higher up, there was another drinking party, one that only those in the know could attend. So no matter how famous or skilled the martial artists were, they were excluded.

The host of this party, who had invited the guests on the island, was a young girl-like Qi Refiner, born with a strange phenomenon—two small, slightly raised deer-like horns on her forehead. She wore an imperial celestial crown and an ancient dragon robe, with twelve coiled dragons woven into the silk. All the embroidered golden dragons had their eyes closed, except their whiskers moved gently. One front-facing dragon seemed to stir restlessly.

The girl, robed in dragon attire, wore a white jade belt. She pressed her hands on the belt, squinting phoenix eyes, and turned to look at Jade Hairpin Island. Hah, there was plenty of dragon aura over there.

A decrepit old woman held her cup with both hands, smiling reservedly, looking a bit nervous like a village crone who had never seen the world, finally visiting a market town.

She was a licentious shrine deity from a remote area of Northern Jin, whose temple housed a painted clay statue.

On the ground was a huge bamboo mat, with four paperweights of different materials placed at the corners. Three of them were the hostess's own offerings. Near the feet of an old man with the Daoist name "Potter" lay a sinister pottery paperweight.

A scholar-official, with a jade tablet at his waist and holding a dark horsetail whisk, wore court robes. He was the newly enfeoffed City God of the capital of Nanyuan Kingdom.

There were also a few Qi Refiners, each with one or two striking features in appearance, clothing, or personal artifacts, all drinking here.

Outside the bamboo mat, young boys boiled wine, and palace maids in serving-girl attire held various weapons.

Inside the mat, two had received invitations from the Lake Mountain Sect; the rest were just "joining the fun early."

A middle-aged Daoist, always smiling, arrived late. He made a Daoist greeting to the mat, saying he had been delayed. He had just returned from the Damu Temple to his lodging here, so he must punish himself with three cups. After sitting down, he indeed drank three cups in a row. Even the hostess, the young girl, didn't know his identity. When she asked around, she found no one recognized him. Yet this Daoist had the audacity to keep toasting everyone. The dragon-robed girl sneered coldly and raised her hand, ready to hit this freeloader with a spell as a lesson. Not just anyone could drink the wine brewed in her mansion.

The Daoist, his face flushed from drink and hiccupping constantly, quickly stood up laughing, bowed in apology, and backed away while talking.

Once he was far from the mat, the slovenly Daoist finally dared to turn around and hurried down the mountain. Probably emboldened by the wine, he began to boast drunkenly: "Without ancient, there is no modern. Seek true men among flowers and willows. My purse is thin, just a few coppers. Without modern, there is no ancient. Sipping the wine of eternal life with a flower in my hair, I realized that the drunken land is the immortal land. Keep the time, engrave peach charms, flower wine for thousands of years. A rustic beneath the grass, what does he know of military strategy? Even superior immortals and true men are just empty talk. Only I, in my great drunkenness, am not drunk. The sun is high, I wake up late, yet I rise early. Waking, I lie long among a hundred flowers; after drinking, another day of bright moon and clear breeze..."

The old woman asked softly: "Is he one of those eccentrics?"

The dragon-robed girl scoffed: "Just a pretentious show-off."

The old man named Potter hesitated for a moment, habitually rubbing his thumb and forefinger, and revealed a heavenly secret to the seated friends via heart-to-heart: "I apologize for my poor eyesight—I can't discern his cultivation level. But his 'nominal age' is over a thousand years."

"Nominal age" was a term used nowadays for those heroic spirits and ghosts, indicating which dynasty they belonged to in life.

But nominal age was indeed too "nominal" and had nothing to do with the ghost's actual cultivation level. It didn't mean much.

For example, the old man named Potter, as a true "first maker of figurines," was almost the oldest person in this world, but his Daoist cultivation was not high.

The dragon-robed girl hesitated, then laughed and called out: "Fellow Daoist descending the mountain, the older the more venerable. Come back and drink!"

The middle-aged Daoist had left in a hurry, but he returned even faster, scurrying up the mountain. Sitting down again, he cupped his fists and said with a smile: "I've even forgotten my name. Now I've just taken the Daoist name 'Ironbeak.' To be honest, I'm no good at spell battles, but I'm proficient in physiognomy. I dare say I'm not inferior to any divine being in this world who can know the past and future."

If he hadn't announced his name, it might have been fine. But upon hearing "Ironbeak," a relatively silent female cultivator first stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand, then couldn't help saying: "You're the liar who got beaten to a pulp by Wu Jiang? And the one Zhong Qian said he'd beat half to death if he ever saw you again?"

In fact, her words were still polite. It was rumored in the martial world that this wandering Daoist loved to mystify, and the only tough thing about him was his mouth.

The Daoist smiled: "Pretending to be a liar is not easy."

Everyone was temporarily speechless at this remark.

The dragon-robed girl was about to raise her hand—true or false, a test would tell.

But the wandering Daoist, sharp-eyed, immediately clarified: "Dear immortals, I said I'm no good at spell battles—isn't that the honest truth?"

Anecdotes and strange tales abounded; this scene on the mountaintop mat was just one of them.

The human world was now full of new things—eccentrics and oddities were no longer surprising.

The middle-aged Daoist looked around, and suddenly his face filled with sorrow, as if he were a different person. He bowed his head in thought for a moment, then looked up: "After drinking, let's talk business. We share joys and sorrows, honor and disgrace."

For some reason, the Daoist stared blankly at them, his expression desolate. In an instant, tears streamed down his face. He choked: "One flower blooms to announce the return of spring; one leaf falls to know the autumn of the world."

But at that moment, every host and guest, for some reason, felt no pretense in him. He looked at them as if he were a weary old man who had experienced many vicissitudes, seeing in his eyes a future family decline, flowers in full bloom, oil sizzling in the pan, then a vast expanse of snow, birds and beasts scattering, leaving clean.

The Daoist wiped his tears, pressed one hand to his brow center, and placed the other palm on the bamboo mat—heaven and earth connected. He said softly: "I must act on behalf of heaven and come here to persuade you to surrender."

In the unseen silence, there had once been a pair of pure golden eyes, like the sun at high noon, overlooking the human world.

When he "awoke," he hesitated for a long time before daring to look up. But he only gazed briefly, like a mortal staring at the sun.

Fortunately, that existence's gaze swept very quickly and didn't notice his spying. He soon lowered his head.

He did not know his name, his origin, his past life. He didn't even know if he was human.

But soon he had seen the entire evolution of the human world, as if someone had turned the pages of a book, forcing him to see and remember.

Yet this story that seemed never to end, only ever the first volume, at the end of the first volume, split into four "supplementary volumes," four threads.

And he, strictly speaking, did not awaken in this Lotus Root Blessed Land. He awakened on another thread's storyline. Over there, the protagonist, or the little Heavenly Lord, was a young Daoist with a white ape on his shoulder. Then, in other supplementary volumes, he saw Lu Fang of Bird's Peak. As an exiled immortal from outside, Lu Fang was no longer trapped by love and turned to deep study of Buddhism. He viewed all human love as a white bone contemplation, and by this he broke through realms to become a Jade Perfection realm sword immortal. Thus, in that world, Buddhism flourished, with tens of thousands of temples large and small. In another world, the demon sect was at its peak. After Lu Tai, the three sect leaders—one chief and two deputies—first trampled the entire Lake Mountain Sect, then allied with Nanyuan Kingdom, galloping without pause to contend for the world. But a sword-using youth founded his own school. He was their junior disciple, Lu Tai's last disciple. He found his three senior brothers and had a talk, agreeing that the court was the court, the martial world was the martial world—a clear line, no mutual interference...

When Gao Jun returned to the Lake Mountain Sect from the Fallen Mountain, she once attempted Yin Spirit out-of-body travel. In a daze, she found herself as if in a vast, boundless river of stars, dimly seeing a middle-aged Daoist with a blurry face.

Only then did she recall a previous conversation.

It was when Gao Jun took over the Lake Mountain Sect, having just achieved minor success in cultivation and learned heart-to-heart speech.

One night, in the deep silence, after finishing her breathing exercises, Gao Jun reached out to disperse the turbid Qi in the room.

Suddenly, she heard a voice.

"Since this body is a land immortal, why worry about the mortal world's idle sorrows? Use or discard depends on the time; hide or show depends on me. Hands in sleeves on the mountain; wander out of the mountain—why rush?"

"Who are you? What do you mean?"

But Gao Jun only heard a soft sigh, and then nothing more.

This time meeting again, it seemed he knew Gao Jun's thoughts, and tried again to persuade her to stay on the mountain and cultivate, not to bother with the mundane world's rolling red dust.

"Know the greatness of your own body, see the smallness of heaven and earth. Don't return empty-handed from a treasure mountain. The Dao transforms within and without. The mountain man is close to the Dao."

Gao Jun was silent for a moment, her eyes firm. She answered with a prepared reply: "I know that it cannot be obtained hastily. To seize the moment is to keep time. Heaven does not grant twice; time does not linger. Two successes cannot be achieved at once; matters depend on the present."

"Are you not afraid of being an ant shaking a tree, a mantis stopping a chariot?"

"Where the Dao is, my spirit yearns. Gao Jun dares to prove with death that this path is viable—or not."

Having received her definite answer, he said no more. Time flowed backward, and he invited Gao Jun out of the small heaven and earth. Her Dao heart and memory returned to their original state.

On the bamboo mat, the "middle-aged Daoist" saw the subtle fluctuations in everyone's hearts. He knew that his earnest "persuasion" and detailed explanation of the world's situation, hoping they would be more patient, would only be effective temporarily. In the future, people's hearts would still be like flowing water—a bamboo basket fetching emptiness. It could even be said that his intervention had made the world's trend even more chaotic, less pure and clear than his two casual chats with Gao Jun.

The middle-aged Daoist sighed and once again used his innate divine ability to wield a small segment of the long river of time.

In fact, from the moment he appeared at the Snail Da'Island mountaintop wine party, when his feet touched the ground, this place had already become its own small heaven and earth, like a whirlpool.

He no longer wanted to waste time with the dragon-robed girl and the others, and he feared that the pair of golden eyes would detect something. When he reappeared, he went down the mountain in low spirits. In the eyes of those on the mat, he was just a coward whose cover had been blown, fleeing in haste.

At that moment, the Daoist suddenly turned his head and saw a white-clad man walking behind him, squinting and smiling. The man's face was indistinct, but those pair of golden eyes, as if unchanging through the ages, were horrifying.

The man smiled: "What a coincidence. You leave the mountain, I descend the mountain. Since we are temporarily on the same path, we can travel together for a while."

The Daoist slowed his pace.

That existence, with hands in his sleeves, walked up to the Daoist, reached out a hand, and pressed it on the Daoist's head, gently twisting it... as if to say, don't look forward and back—just look ahead.

"You crossed the thunder pool first. I let you know your mistake later. When you find out for yourself, the wood will have already become a boat, and there's no point slapping your own face."

The Daoist stopped at these words and asked a question identical to Gao Jun's: "Who are you?"

The man smiled: "I am no one—just a self-imprisoned person. You are different. You can wander freely within the four scrolls, seeing different people and things every day."

The Daoist sighed: "You are Chen Ping'an."

The man sighed as well, raised two fingers, and crushed those five golden characters into pieces. They crackled like charcoal bursting in a furnace. He laughed self-deprecatingly: "Alright, another miss."

You are Chen Ping'an.

It was the truth, but that sentence was really unpleasant to hear.

If the man said, "I am Chen Ping'an," he could immediately turn back. But if the other had a spark of understanding and said, "Chen Ping'an is you," that would be very interesting.

Earlier, when this "agent of heaven" Daoist appeared here, he had taken a chance to slip through, hoping for a "borrow your auspicious words" benefit.

Of course, he still couldn't escape that cage. Besides, he didn't want to leave. He said he was self-imprisoned, and so he was. One mind used in two ways was still one person, himself.

But he certainly didn't mind coming out to get some fresh air from time to time.

In fact, if the Daoist had urged others to be more patient, he himself lacked patience. For instance, earlier, this "Chen Ping'an" had used one of Chen Ping'an's avatars to see the Daoist roaming in the blessed land. He recognized his true origins at first glance but pretended not to know. After all, an avatar was just a temporary "divine vision" acquired through talisman techniques—too shallow in cultivation.

The middle-aged Daoist asked: "You found me. What do you want to do?"

The man withdrew his hand into his sleeve: "Nothing to do, slipped out to clear my mind, and incidentally remind you and myself of half a sentence each. The sage says, if the mat is not straight, do not sit; if the meat is not cut properly, do not eat."

The Daoist hesitated for a moment, then made a Daoist greeting: "I have been taught."

The man laughed: "What teaching? You won't remember."

In an instant, the middle-aged Daoist was back on the bamboo mat, again making the heaven-earth connection gesture, again speaking that line about acting on behalf of heaven and persuading everyone to surrender.

But the Daoist felt something was off, yet couldn't pinpoint it.

A snow-white Chen Ping'an walked on the emerald lake. The water was as calm as a mirror, a boundary line. Heaven and earth inverted instantly. The Chen Ping'an with pure divinity walked in a "painted human world" that was almost indistinguishable from reality.

In terms of divine abilities, that existence who was once the Dao incarnation of the Lotus Root Blessed Land was indeed still a child just learning to read a few words compared to this Chen Ping'an.

It was just dawn. At the mountain gate of the Ancestral Mountain where the Damu Temple stood, several front-hill Daoist boys spoke with extraordinary eloquence, chatting about the secrets of immortal elixirs.

Beside them, a young immortal girl talked of trivial matters: sacrificing to jade hairpins at night and reciting precious hymns, still clinging to the chill of a night in the deep Daoist palace.

Wu Jiang did not take a boat to the island. He had arrived here only last night, so he found a thick willow branch slanting over the water, hugged his saber scabbard, and lay down to sleep.

He snored like thunder, slept straight through till dawn. Opening his eyes, he looked at the sky, rolled off the tree, and took a walk along the shore that morning.

He was a short, sturdy man, with dark skin, cotton clothes, straw sandals, a ferocious face, and a rough temper. His breathing was steady and long—clearly a practitioner who cultivated both internal and external martial arts.

Chen Ping'an had only returned to the fox kingdom's territory at dawn today, reeking of alcohol.

Then they boarded a private immortal ferryboat owned by Pei Xiang, which soared through clouds and mist, hurtling toward the vast, misty Qiuji Lake.

Because Pei Xiang was among the invited distinguished guests of Qiuji Lake, holding a clearance document issued by the Lake Mountain Sect—a piece of mutton-fat jade inscribed with clouds of spiritual energy flowing over green mountains and clear waters.

Moreover, almost every major participant in the council brought along a group of so-called direct disciples of immortal mansions, their own disciples, or retainers. So Pei Xiang, wearing a veiled hat, had a few "attendants" by her side today: Mountain Lord Chen, Law Enforcer Changming, Xie Gou, and Guo Zhujiu. Just a few. Thus, they passed through all the checkpoints without hindrance. At the first "gate" of Qiuji Lake, a Qi Refiner dressed as a Daoist, along with a group of martial artists, was guarding the pass. The Daoist respectfully informed Pei Xiang and her party of their lodging location: Snail Da'Island, near the lake heart Ancestral Mountain, adjacent to Jade Hairpin Island. It was slightly lower in altitude but richer in spiritual energy. The guests had arrived a bit late; at the ferry port, a special tower ship awaited them.

The Daoist's manner was humble, his words cautious. Obviously, as a member of the Damu Temple's Patriarch Hall, he roughly knew the weight of the term "fox kingdom."

But the male martial artists guarding the checkpoint couldn't help speculating. Fox kingdom? Never heard of it. What kind of cultivation school was that?

Could it be a den of fox spirits?

Looking at them, it seemed possible. Among the five, four were women of various ages but very different heights.

Not to mention the one claiming to be the fox kingdom's ruler, a seductive woman with a veiled hat—only her figure was visible, not her face.

And that tall woman in a pure white robe—average looks, indeed unremarkable, but with her graceful figure and those long legs—wow, superb!

At this moment, without looking at her face, just her back view was even more beautiful. Besides her long legs, she was really tall.

Every man thought that her face being not pretty didn't matter. As long as she was willing, they had already thought of a name for their son.

The only eyesore was that blue-robed man.

The reason they dared not crack any lewd jokes or tease them was, of course, the jade tablet issued by the Lake Mountain Sect.

Whoever held such a tablet was either an immortal or a demon, and they were definitely not to be trifled with. No need to put the big brother in danger for the little brother.

The sable-hatted girl was furious. She tattled via heart-to-heart: "Alliance Leader Guo, Pei Xiang that vixen and Law Enforcer Changming have stolen all the spotlight from us!"

"Take it easy. Get used to it."

Guo Zhujiu patted Xie Gou's sable hat and calmed her: "Don't blame them. Blame yourself for being like a wooden stake from top to bottom—missing a few pounds of meat on your chest and rear."

Xie Gou sniffled. The Alliance Leader's words were truly hurtful. As that little water monster would say, it chilled the hearts of the troops.

Guo Zhujiu said: "Our lineage must speak blunt truths that offend the ear. We can't copy Senior Sister Pei's mountain. If the atmosphere were the same, why bother distinguishing?"

Xie Gou nodded: "The Alliance Leader speaks sense. I've long felt that Pei Qian's lineage's atmosphere... well, I shouldn't speak ill of others. Anyway, I'm not used to it."

"Those words hit home. But on our mountain's merit roll, we'll record a demerit for you. If you accumulate three, you'll be expelled."

"Ah?"

"What's there to be afraid of? You still have one more chance."

"Ah?!"

"Stop 'ah'-ing. Remember to tell Konghou, who was our lineage's law enforcer, that she's no longer a sect member. In fact, our lineage now only has the two of us. If Konghou wants to restore her status, she'll have to slowly accumulate merits again. The road is long, tell her to keep at it and not be discouraged."

"..."

Is our lineage's threshold so high and its rules so strict?

I and that white-haired child are at least two Flying Ascension cultivators.

Fine, fine. That's how it should be. Truly impartial and incorruptible, Alliance Leader Guo!

Changming smiled gently and asked softly: "Zhujiu, why do you think they can keep their mouths and hands in check?"

Without thinking, Guo Zhujiu pointed at Qiuji Lake ahead and blurted: "The people's hearts here are like this lake. Rivers flow through, waterways connect. News comes and goes, so they know the height of the heavens and the depth of the earth. They don't act recklessly. In a small place, like a remote county with no news, it's like a pond. Occasionally it rains, and the only news is from the court's official documents. No other channels. They create their own little world. They're either local tyrants lording it over others or rich bullies' idiot sons. They speak and act without thinking. But I can't blame them. They've considered the consequences and then act without caring. Here at Qiuji Lake, if not for this council and their widened horizons, would those men have refrained from flirting? They might even have gotten handsy, right?"

Pei Xiang was stunned. She didn't expect the young female sword cultivator to say such things. In her impression, sword cultivators didn't like to use their brains much... except for those from the Fallen Mountain and the Green Lotus Sword Sect.

In her memory, Guo Zhujiu, who had come to the Fallen Mountain very late, was Chen Mountain Lord's direct disciple. She seemed like a quiet girl. On the Fallen Mountain, she always seemed to be goofing around with the sable-hatted girl and the white-haired child.

What Guo Zhujiu was like at the Sword Worship Platform, whether she became a different person there, Pei Xiang naturally didn't know and dared not probe.

Xie Gou admired her even more, giving a thumbs-up: "Alliance Leader Guo, you have insight!"

Chen Ping'an chuckled softly: "Otherwise, what do you think? When I brought Zhujiu to the Summer Palace, half of it was my nepotism as her nominal master, half was Guo Zhujiu's real talent. If the Old Sword Immortal hadn't nodded, even if I personally recommended her, it would have been absolutely impossible. You didn't think the Summer Palace was open to anyone, did you? The threshold is very high. Take our Great Sword Immortal Mi—she barely got into the Summer Palace and still only helps guard the gate every day. Very idle. Zhujiu is different. I've tallied her merits. Though she can't compare to that overly clever Lin Junbi, Zhujiu is at least on par with Xuanshen and the others in talent and merit."

Guo Zhujiu grinned.

That was her master closing his eyes to praise his own disciple. She was just slightly better than an old unmarried woman and Luo Zhenyi.

Arriving at the willow-fringed shore, Chen Ping'an looked into the distance and said: "There are many more people than I imagined."

According to the Fallen Mountain's initial estimate, all forces in the blessed land combined came to about thirty.

Even with council members bringing their trusted aides and retinues, it would be at most fifty. Now, the outsiders staying on the lake's islands numbered nearly two hundred? And on the shore, from roadside stalls to makeshift taverns, it was as lively as a market. Chen Ping'an was instantly reminded of the early morning drinking custom in Jingyang Prefecture of Qingling Kingdom. Drinking early wine meant being half drunk for the whole day, moving like drifting clouds; but not drinking would make the day listless. Might as well drink well.

Earlier, Gao Jun, as the lead, along with a group of Qi Refiners from the Lake Mountain Sect, had gone down the mountain, each carrying a sealed letter from the sect leader, dispersing in all directions to contact the world.

For this invitation, even pure martial artists had to be at the Sixth Realm. But compared to Qi Refiners and all kinds of deities, these martial grandmasters still seemed somewhat outnumbered.

But that was an invisible trend.

Pei Xiang laughed: "To be fair, this really isn't Sect Leader Gao's fault. She reminded all of us beforehand, stating clearly in the letter that this council was not to be disclosed. But there are always those who can't keep their mouths shut and spread it. Then friend called friend, and everyone wanted to get involved. Qiuji Lake can't very well turn them away. At least they've kept the riffraff on the shore."

Xie Gou snorted: "Reminded? More like a hint. She deliberately did it. Relying on numbers, she wanted to secure greater benefits for this world. If we, the Fallen Mountain, appear too assertive, the entire world—both on and off the mountains—will soon know how she fought for their interests. If we're easygoing, she doesn't lose either. This deal is a win-win for her and the Lake Mountain Sect. She's earned both fame and profit today. As for how Gao Jun will scheme afterward, that's anyone's guess."

Law Enforcer Changming smiled and nodded. Indeed, that was the reasoning. In the final analysis, Sect Leader Gao's days as a guest on the Fallen Mountain were too relaxed and comfortable.

Pei Xiang was startled. She quickly glanced at the young Hidden Official out of the corner of her eye.

She had heard the general process of the council at the Spring Breeze Hut on Daoxuan Mountain.

Could the sable-hatted girl's words be Chen Mountain Lord's stance?

Pei Xiang had originally thought that this trip, Chen Ping'an didn't bring Xiao Mo in his yellow hat and green shoes, only Law Enforcer Changming, a significant member of the Ji Ling Peak Patriarch Hall. So it was by no means a grand affair. Although last night in the small courtyard, Law Enforcer Changming had said a few things that hid killing intent, it was far from Pei Xiang's earliest imagined scenario: sword cultivators traveling together to the blessed land, martial grandmasters riding the wind to arrive together, appearing in the Damu Temple of Qiuji Lake—wouldn't that be a second Spring Breeze Hut council?

Chen Ping'an laughed: "No, it's only human. If Gao Jun didn't do this, if she only sought personal gain, that would be disappointing."

Hearing the mountain lord say this, Xie Gou immediately changed her tune, nodding: "Besides, this matter involves great risk. It's a thankless task. If she isn't careful, she'll incur our displeasure. Gao Jun is no ordinary Qi Refiner. She's been to the Fallen Mountain and knows enough about the Haoran World. Yet she still dares to do this, effectively putting her entire life, fortune, and the Lake Mountain Sect's rise and fall on the gambling table. That's rare."

Guo Zhujiu patted the sable hat: "Good attitude, backbone of iron. I've found a treasure."

Xie Gou felt wronged. If I didn't want to be a bigger official, would I be so opportunistic? That friend Changming got to be the mountain's law enforcer exactly like this.

Changming communicated via heart-to-heart: "Master, why didn't you let Gao Jun truly understand the strength of our Fallen Mountain?"

Chen Ping'an explained in detail via heart-to-heart: "Both Chief Advisor Zhou's suggestion and my earlier hesitation. Chief Advisor Zhou said some mistakes are inevitable—can't avoid them, can't stop them, can't even prevent them. Managing a blessed land can't be done with either too loose or too tight a grip. Too loose, and people's hearts become insatiable. 'Insatiable hearts' isn't necessarily derogatory. From the perspective of the intelligent beings in the blessed land, whether they are immortal masters seeking eternal life or pure martial artists always punching higher, who wants a so-called 'Heavenly Lord' above them? They'll naturally try to arm-wrestle. But insatiable hearts can lead to either courageous advancement or insatiable greed—that's a problem."

"Nor can we be too strict. Strict enforcement leads to hard confrontations. All the people and hearts we suppress by iron fist will hide deeper in the world. They will prostrate themselves on the ground but raise their heads, staring with hate-filled eyes at... me, us, the Fallen Mountain. As the numbers grow, little sparks into a pile of deep grass, it won't catch fire soon. But once smoke rises, we must go. Then second place, third, more and more. The most terrifying is when all the killing of heaven and earth and the rising of people's hearts ignite together, eventually burning the whole world, everyone ascending... dying heroically, perishing together rather than bow to heaven."

"But the principle of 'blocking is not as good as guiding' is simple in theory but hard in practice. The relationship between the Fallen Mountain and the Lotus Root Blessed Land—people have master-subordinate relationships, matters have priority. If there is a way to completely eliminate the hidden danger, it's not impossible. I once discussed this with Chief Advisor Zhou at length. For example, we could establish a branch immortal mansion here in the blessed land under our Fallen Mountain, requiring at least two Jade Perfection realm cultivators to immediately replace the Lake Mountain Sect's position. Twenty branch cultivators would walk among the people, temporarily setting aside cultivation for twenty years, adapting to local customs. Meanwhile, we'd replace at least half of the mountain lords of the Five Great Mountains. Before the various kingdoms' courts can react, we seize control of the enfeoffment of mountain and water deities, lead the mountains, and treat the entire landscape officialdom as a second cultivation ground. But then, the Lotus Root Blessed Land would become... a strictly regulated bureaucracy, no longer a vibrant, complete world."

"If it were still the old Lotus Root Blessed Land of lower grade, with few Qi Refiners and a handful of Golden Body martial artists—one carrot per hole—it would be easy to handle."

"Even if it gradually rose to a medium-grade blessed land, it's still manageable. The Fallen Mountain and the blessed land would have a grace period, sufficient patience and capital for trial and error."

Hearing this, Law Enforcer Changming felt guilty: "When the mountain lord was away, we over-fertilized the seedlings."

Chen Ping'an shook his head with a smile: "You're overthinking. Except for self-cultivation, how many things in the world are all benefit and no harm?"

"In the end, this is an exam set by the Old Temple Master for the Fallen Mountain. It can be big or small. Dealing purely with the matter itself, it can be small. Adding human factors makes it very big."

"Simply put, the Old Temple Master is watching: with a quarter of the Lotus Root Blessed Land in my hands, will it become the Yunkun Blessed Land of the Yugu Sect's Jiang family, or..."

"The White Jade Jade Capital of the Qingming World."

Hearing this, Law Enforcer Changming's Dao heart trembled.

Chen Ping'an remained calm and relaxed, smiling: "The Old Temple Master is waiting to see a joke—whether Chen Ping'an, before he goes to the Qingming World for a sword duel with Yu Dou, before he even sees the White Jade Jade Capital, will have already turned the Fallen Mountain into a second White Jade Jade Capital, and Chen Ping'an into Yu Dou of the Lotus Root Blessed Land."

Law Enforcer Changming, whose skin was already whiter than snow, instantly turned pale.

She couldn't understand: "Why does the Old Temple Master target you so specifically?"

Chen Ping'an looked down at his cloth shoes, smiled, and shook his head to explain: "It's not the kind of targeted dislike where he just doesn't like me. A cultivator of the Old Temple Master's level would demean himself by targeting a former mud-legged youth. It's beneath him. Besides, the Old Temple Master, in my eyes, is the second 'fair-minded man' I've met in this life. 'Fair-minded'—if I called him kind, that would be insulting him."

"Perhaps the Old Temple Master thinks... a person's big talk must be matched by great accomplishments. He doesn't care about others. But since Chen Ping'an said it to his face, don't think you can take it lightly. Maybe in his view, whether a person says what's in his heart or not also has a master-servant relationship. If you suppress it, you are the master of the words. If you can't suppress it, you have to run after those words."

Changming said with a heavy heart: "Master, you must not become that, right?"

" 'Must' or 'must not' might be an unpredictable objective result."

Chen Ping'an smiled, made a fist, and gently tapped his chest: " 'Want' or 'not want' might be a more important subjective will. Only ask about the plowing, not the harvest."

He was silent for a moment, then smiled again: "I just thought of a sequence."

"Believe that things depend on human effort, but things often go against wishes—that is disappointment."

"Things often go against wishes, but believe that things depend on human effort—that is hope."

Changming chewed on these two sentences, a little uncertain: "Master, it seems the first kind of disappointment is still acceptable?"

Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded: "As expected of Friend Changming—hitting the nail on the head."

Just as Changming was about to say something, Chen Ping'an suddenly said: "Pei Xiang, the reason I asked about the fox kingdom's registered disciples yesterday was that Lord Cultivator Lu learned something from one of his martial uncles. Let me pass it on to you: in the future, within the fox kingdom, a vixen of great Dao attainment may appear. When she appears and I encounter her again, I might act as her Dao protector."

Barring unforeseen circumstances, once she broke through to the Cave Abode realm, Chen Ping'an would grant her the true name "Cui Bai."

On hearing this, Pei Xiang spoke her first thought bluntly: "With such deep fortune, she won't try to steal my position as fox kingdom ruler, will she?"

Chen Ping'an was amused.

Pei Xiang was quite secure as the ruler.

Xie Gou gave a thumbs-up: "Sister Pei Xiang, who hides her face under a veiled hat—though her curves are fully exposed and she's a bit plump, she's straightforward. What a refreshing person!"

Pei Xiang couldn't be happy about this praise at all. She sincerely felt she wasn't very smart.

The fox kingdom, now effectively sealed, had a sequence in its cultivation path. For example, according to the agreement between the Fallen Mountain and the fox kingdom, whenever a vixen was expected to reach the Cave Abode realm, she could go out and experience the mortal world. It seemed like a solo trip, but in reality, the fox kingdom would secretly arrange one or two Dao protectors, recording them in the roster. While the latter protected the low-realm junior, both the Fallen Mountain and Pei Xiang knew, but didn't say, that the protector could also use the opportunity to experience the mortal world—perhaps have a brief romance—but they couldn't stay long outside the fox kingdom or reveal its location. Later, after three to five decades, at most sixty years, the fox kingdom would open its doors, allowing vixens and outside cultivators and scholars to come and go freely.

Just as Pei Xiang had gone to the Fallen Mountain before and complained to Zhu Lian, or rather laid the groundwork, her own fox kingdom indeed had many registered disciples who were used to the bustling, colorful life of the former human world. Now they found it too stifling and boring. They occupied their own domains inside the kingdom, and the spiritual energy in their mansions had doubled. But vixens were different from ordinary Qi Refiners. They saw the rolling red dust—which others considered dangerous—as their second cultivation ground for tempering the Dao heart.

Even Pei Xiang before she got the answer didn't understand why the young mountain lord, the "supervisor" of the fox kingdom, would seal the mountain instead of properly managing a huge treasure trove. Why refuse profit? Was that young Mountain Lord Chen a pedantic, moralistic Daoist scholar?

After talking with Zhu Lian, Pei Xiang learned of Chen Ping'an's good intentions.

Fine. The mortal world has bitterness with a sweet aftertaste. She would believe just this once.

Pei Xiang was willing to trust Chen Ping'an and the Fallen Mountain. More precisely, she trusted Zhu Lian.

Chen Ping'an muttered to himself: "Since there is a protagonist in the book, there are also heinous villains—or those who are disliked simply because they stand opposite the protagonist, on a different side."

Xie Gou rubbed her sable hat, eager and spirited: "Be the villain? The biggest behind-the-scenes villain?! Mountain Lord, I'm good at that!"

Now that she was already the Second Seat Supreme, promotion would mean becoming the First Seat Supreme. That would put her on equal footing with Law Enforcer Changming!

Guo Zhujiu patted Xie Gou's hand and reminded: "You, a rebel who only wants to usurp the throne, can't play the part of a deep, scheming big villain."

Xie Gou grinned.

Her old master of that string of Dao names probably wouldn't think so.

Xie Gou glanced at her mountain lord. There was a poem: "How many of those who tour the lake set their eyes on the green mountains?" Ha, "How many set their eyes on the blue robe."

Chen Ping'an said: "All of you, follow Pei Xiang to the boat. Continue using the fox kingdom's registered identity. I'll visit the Damu Temple later."

Guo Zhujiu asked curiously: "Master?"

Chen Ping'an nodded with a smile: "I'll play the villain."

Xie Gou cracked her knuckles: "Great! That's the spirit! Mountain Lord, doesn't a villain need a lackey sidekick?"

Guo Zhujiu said: "That would just be a minor villain killed by the protagonist with one punch. A mid-level villain who fights wits and wiles with the protagonist and loses by one move—no fun either. A big villain like Master doesn't need helpers."

---

In the Qingming World, Qizhou, Xuan Du Temple.

Last time, Wu Shuangjiang visited, voluntarily revealing his fourteenth-realm cultivation. Old Daoist Sun knew his intention. Of course, Wu Shuangjiang was extremely clever; he didn't need to say anything to understand Old Daoist Sun's meaning.

Though they shared the same enemy, Sun Huaizhong would not ally with Wu Shuangjiang.

Xuan Du Temple and Sui Chu Palace would not become allies.

Under Sun's senior sister Wang Sun, Xuan Du Temple had gradually developed a good habit—a tradition that made the Qingming World speak of it with fear: "Give a certain fellow Daoist the chance to fight a group alone."

But this time, the Daoist Sun of Xuan Du Temple decided to travel alone, a true one-on-one.

Today.

Inside the room was a wooden stand with a washbasin full of water. The old Daoist pulled up a stool, took off his Daoist hairpin, untied his bun, and began washing his hair with soapberry.

At first, he chatted idly with the person at the door. But she didn't speak, so the old Daoist shut up, lest his always impatient senior sister get annoyed.

Wang Sun sat silently on the doorstep.

His senior sister, still with the appearance of a young girl, sat with her back to the aged junior brother inside.

She knew she was sad. But when she wiped the corner of her eye with her finger, there were no tears.

Since childhood, her Dao heart had been clear and bright. That wasn't entirely good. When others were heartbroken, they were silent yet felt torn apart, or they wailed with tears streaming.

But she could only watch herself, asking why she couldn't wound her Dao heart.

She asked: "Little Sun, can't you not go?"

This time, the room was quiet.

She paused, then asked: "Can't you go later? Like, wait until I break into the fourteenth realm?"

The old man inside laughed softly: "Senior sister, with your good aptitude and even better Dao heart, it would be surprising if you didn't enter the fourteenth realm. It's only a matter of time. So going early or late makes no difference. I'm fine with it."

Wang Sun asked: "Then let me light a life-extending lamp for you?"

The old man laughed: "Though you are my senior sister, I am the temple master. Wang Sun, tell me yourself, who should listen to whom?"

Wang Sun lowered her head, staring blankly into the distance.

The old Daoist finished washing his hair, retied his bun, and stuck his hairpin back in. He rubbed his face and laughed: "Long-lost refreshing spirit."

He turned to the door and smiled: "Senior sister, when I traveled the Haoran World before, I read a saying in a book that I thought was very good."

"Let's hear it."

"For example, one lamp can light a hundred thousand lamps. The dark ones are all illuminated, and the light never ends."

"Isn't that Buddhist talk?"

"Principles in the world don't care about schools. It's not like one school's truth means another's is false. Right."

"Then, right."

The old man said: "Actually, the world now is not bad."

He paused, then added: "But it could be better."

---

In the border of Ruzhou, within Yingchuan Prefecture of a small country, there was a remote little temple called Lingjing Temple.

In the night, a young man in a cotton Daoist robe and old cotton shoes pushed open Uncle Chang's door and swaggered in.

On the table, an oil lamp, a dish of peanuts.

The old man glanced sideways at the youth, said nothing, and continued reading his book.

"A thousand-mile send-off must end in one parting."

But saying that now might be too early.

The old man pushed the dish toward the youth.

Chen Cong picked up a peanut, tossed it into his mouth, and glanced at the old book in Uncle Chang's hands. Curious, he asked: "You've read it over and over, so many times. Is it really that interesting?"

Uncle Chang said calmly: "Read a book a hundred times, and the meaning will show itself."

Chen Cong was impatient with such vague talk and grinned: "Uncle Chang, you've worked hard all day. Are your shoulders stiff? Want me to rub them?"

Uncle Chang said testily: "Don't pull that on me. Spit it out if you've got something to say."

Chen Cong, still with a youthful nature, teased: "Uncle Chang, we've been dependent on each other for years, but we've never visited relatives. So I suppose I'm your only junior relative, right? Do you have any priceless old keepsakes stashed away? I'm not greedy—I just want to see them, satisfy my curiosity, broaden my horizons."

Uncle Chang smiled: "Anyway, the place is small. Go ahead and search. Rummage through everything. If you find anything worth a bit, it's yours."

Chen Cong slumped on the table, frowning, and sighed: "Uncle Chang, our family is so poor. We haven't saved any money in the temple. How will I ever find a wife?"

Uncle Chang stifled a laugh: "If you dare to find one here, you'd be amazing. Yeah, that's it."

Chen Cong squinted. Uncle Chang was giving him a thumbs-up, a mischievous smile on his face.

The youth complained: "Old pervert."

The old man patted the youth's head: "How many times have I told you? No respect for elders. No wonder you can't become a scholar."

Chen Cong continued to slump, slapping the table with one hand: "Scholar? Isn't that born? Uncle Chang, give me a straight answer. Do you want me to be one of those ridiculously hard-to-become officially ordained Daoists, or settle for passing the imperial examinations and bringing honor to the family? But I'm telling you in advance, I don't have that ability. So don't hold out hope, or you'll be disappointed day by day. We'll just stare at each other, sighing all the time. You'll be annoyed, I'll be annoyed. No fun, right?"

"Take things as they come."

The old man looked kind, nodded, and flicked at the lampwick: "No disappointment. That's good enough."

Chen Cong asked softly: "Uncle Chang, how old are you?"

The old man glanced at the youth and laughed: "I won't die yet."

Chen Cong spat a few times and glared: "Don't talk nonsense. 'Die' or 'not die'—live for a long time!"

The old man nodded with a smile.

Chen Cong asked seriously: "Uncle Chang, I heard wolfberry tea is very nourishing. Do you need some?"

The old man smiled and raised his hand, beckoning to the youth. So filial—come here, let me knock some sense into you.

Chen Cong wasn't stupid. He said: "Uncle Chang, I've been confused about something lately. Can't figure it out."

Uncle Chang put down the book and laughed: "Tell me."

Chen Cong said: "The books say, 'A man of ambition should sweep away the world's troubles; why worry about a single house?' Then other books say, 'If you can't sweep a single house, how can you sweep the world?' Principles fighting each other. Which is right? Who wins?"

Uncle Chang laughed: "One speaks of the heart, the other of deeds. You think they're sparring? That itself is poor reading—reading dead books, being a dead reader. You can't blame the ancients."

Chen Cong frowned: "That's too vague. Give me an example. If it were you, would you first have the ambition to sweep the world, or would you go sweep the house?"

The old man said meaningfully: "I would sweep the house."

Chen Cong burst out laughing, hopping up: "Uncle Chang, you said that yourself! Then why do you complain about me being lazy every day? That makes no sense! Uncle Chang, you can keep sweeping the temple tomorrow. I'll sleep in!"

Furious, the old man stood up, grabbed a broom from the corner, and made as if to hit the little rascal.

The youth had already run out the door, lifting his knees, walking slowly, turning back to laugh.

Uncle Chang held the broom, standing at the door, watching Chen Cong, and scolded with a smile: "Little brat."

The youth's character was his true nature.

The Brocade Tiger Cui Chan of the Haoran World had once shattered his junior's Dao heart into pieces.

The old man looked at the sky, then looked back at the youth's retreating figure. "Junior, it's going to rain soon."