Chapter 1081: Might as Well Go Study

Chapter 1081: Might as Well Go Study

The deer cry out, "Yo yo," to eat the wild celery in the fields. My heart is troubled, thinking of the blue-collared scholar.

If one's thoughts are without depravity, then the love between men and women is not so different from seeking the Way among the mountains.

"Master, this rain feels a little different."

Ning Ji caught up with Chen Ping'an. When they left the house, he hadn't brought an umbrella. Senior Brother Zhao Shuxia was usually the first to arrive at the Source Village School, where he would prepare breakfast.

He hadn't expected it to rain halfway there. Fortunately, after running only a short distance, they encountered the master, who seemed to have foreseen this heavy downpour before even leaving the house. Truly, his knowledge rivaled that of heaven itself.

The youth's vision was sharp, his eyes bright and spirited.

This was the finest aptitude for cultivating the Dao.

Perhaps even the observatory officials of the various countries in the Haoran world, who specialized in gazing at auras, could not see the sights that appeared in this youth's eyes.

But in Chen Ping'an's eyes, this rain, destined to fall incessantly for several days, had each raindrop transformed into a golden character imbued with Dao energy.

Since the scattering of the Way existed, so too did the attainment of the Way.

But in the world, especially among the top sects, this "preparing for the rain"—using various formations and methods to "catch the rain"—whether it was effective and how effective it was, had yet to be verified.

It might only be possible after the rain stopped, or during the long decades or centuries afterward, through various great and small Daoist opportunities, to obtain a gradual kind of proof.

The only exceptions were likely those great cultivators who had already touched the bottleneck of the "Heavenly Heights." This small handful of peak-dwelling individuals could obtain a relatively intuitive view of the Dao.

Many far-sighted great cultivators of the mortal world, in their hearts, hoped to use this scattering of the Way to break through the bottleneck of the Ascension stage.

Chen Ping'an slowed his pace, tilting the umbrella toward his student as they walked together toward the school. He smiled and said, "Different—that's a pretty good way to put it. Very good."

The Three Cornerstone Founders scattering the Way, bidding farewell to the mortal world, and heading together to the new Heavenly Court to confront the meticulous scheme of recreating the Heavenly Dao and arranging the human world—that itself was a kind of "Heavenly Rain."

So of course this rain would "fall" differently. It hadn't happened in ten thousand years.

In principle, ordinary mortals would have almost no perception of it, but Ning Ji could keenly detect the unusual nature of this torrential downpour. That itself was proof and recognition of his qualification for cultivation.

Ning Ji felt a little embarrassed. He had just made a casual remark, not expecting to receive verbal praise from the master. The master didn't easily compliment people.

Chen Ping'an said, "Ning Ji, would you like to learn immortal arts?"

Without hesitation, Ning Ji replied, "Yes, of course I want to learn."

In recent years, he and his grandfather, who had fled together to the capital of Yuxuan Kingdom, had depended on each other. The old man had now returned to his hometown. Even though times had changed and things were different, home was still home after all.

Ning Ji thought that if he could learn something, he could set out on his own scholarly journey sooner and go see his grandfather there. He had heard from the master that the Headmaster Lu had taught his grandfather a breathing technique strong enough to keep his body healthy, making it easy for him to live a long life. In fact, Chen Ping'an was being indirect. If you went by Lu Chen's own words, as long as the old man still had the ambition to carry on the family line, it wouldn't be hard for him to bloom again like an old tree and have a child in his old age.

In matters of "tying up loose ends," Chen Ping'an and Lu Chen were kindred spirits. They wouldn't just pat their butts and walk away; they cared about parting on good terms and seeing things through from start to finish.

Chen Ping'an asked with a smile, "If someday you master immortal arts, what's the first thing you'd want to do?"

Ning Ji answered honestly, "I've never thought about that question, Master. Do I need to give you a satisfactory answer before I can learn the legendary immortal methods?"

He had heard that those who studied the Dao and rode clouds and mists—whether from tales heard by chance in his youth or from books—seemed to need to set great aspirations at the start of their mountain journey, then put in great effort and sacrifice, and endure many difficulties and trials before they could attain the Dao and become immortals.

Chen Ping'an shook his head and laughed. "Just a casual question. When I was about your age, if someone had asked me that, I probably wouldn't have known how to answer either."

What was cultivating oneself, governing the family, ordering the state, and pacifying the world? The three imperishable achievements? Eating cold pork head meat? Carrying mountains and crossing lakes? Turning the tide in a desperate situation? The boy from Mud Vase Alley back then had never even heard of such things. How could he have answered?

Learning fist techniques and swordplay, building the Longevity Bridge—it was all just a way to survive.

Ning Ji looked up with a bright smile and said, "Master, tell me more about the knowledge of the mountains. I've loved hearing about it since I was little. Even if I never learn immortal arts, I still find it fascinating."

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment, then slowly said, "If we're talking about Qi refinement in the narrow sense, you don't need to view cultivating immortal arts as something too lofty or mysterious. Just think of it as a craft, like a kiln worker firing porcelain, a farmer tending fields, or a teacher instructing students. There's no essential difference. The threshold for cultivation is indeed higher than the crafts of the marketplace, but it's simple: those with better aptitude learn faster. That's what they call 'the ancestral master offering you a meal.' For example, ancient texts say that all who attain immortality receive their mandate from the Dao's energy, that it is endowed by heaven and earth, a grand gathering of method, land, wealth, and partners. But this kind of statement can't escape the trap of fatalism, and I personally have doubts about it. But if we're talking about cultivation and truth-seeking in the broad sense, the threshold becomes much higher. I have to admit that besides one's personal character, you also have to consider whether the heavens are offering you a meal."

Having said this, Chen Ping'an took several talismans from his sleeve. They were a relatively obscure and rare type known as "Single Character Talismans," each bearing the same character—"Immortal"—written in seal script, clerical script, and regular script.

He handed the three talismans to Ning Ji and said with a faint smile, "Keep these safe. In the near future, I'll teach you a breathing method called the Eighteen Halts of Sword Qi. From then on, while you study and refine your Qi, you can spend your leisure time carefully contemplating this 'Immortal' character. Whenever you have an insight, write it down. This isn't an assignment for me or anyone else to see; it's something you write for yourself, to record your reading experiences at different ages and stages. Don't underestimate a single character and think it's not real reading. In ancient times, many scholars and Daoists derived great knowledge that has lasted to this day, with continuous incense offerings, from just one or two characters or a single phrase."

Ning Ji thanked the master and carefully put away the three talismans, tucking them into his bosom. He patted his chest gently, as if smoothing them down, and only then seemed at ease.

Chen Ping'an smiled slightly. "Few people dare to say they've finished reading all the books. But achieving the realm of having thoroughly understood books—that's something you and I can still strive for."

Ning Ji patted his chest, feeling as if he had taken a huge calming pill. Grinning, he said, "I remember every word you say, Master. Every night before I sleep, I carefully think back over them several times."

The master was a person who could make do with anything—no demands regarding food, drink, or lodging. But when it came to reading, he was very particular, oh so particular.

For example, with certain books he often read, just by opening them, an outsider could tell how many times the master had read them. The first round of annotations was in tiny regular script in black ink; the second round was in "vermilion commentary," with red characters written in a more casual running script or even cursive in the margins; the third round used green ink ground from a malachite inkstone for collation notes...

The principle was simple: "Reading without taking notes is the same as not reading at all."

So this simplest "unique mental method" of reading didn't require Chen Ping'an to painstakingly explain its logic to his student Ning Ji.

Ning Ji naturally followed the master's example and copied it exactly. Last time at Fallen Mountain, Junior Brother Cui Dongshan had given him a gourd-shaped inkstone as a gift for being a fellow student and sharing the same inkstone. On the back were inscribed two characters: "Follow the Pattern."

Senior Sister Pei Qian said she wasn't good at reading or scholarship, so she gave Ning Ji a pouch of immortal coins, saying that when he found a book he liked, at least he wouldn't have to look at the price.

Brother Cao Qinglang gave Ning Ji over a dozen books, explaining which ones to read first and which later, why to read them, and how to read them—all in great detail.

This might be an old tradition of the Literary Sage lineage: when fellow disciples met, they never liked to talk about their respective realms and cultivation levels, but focused more on the pursuit of learning.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Next time you go to Fallen Mountain, will you still be nervous?"

Ning Ji said, "I'll definitely still be nervous, but not as much as before."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "I can teach you a trick I figured out myself. In dealing with people and matters, avoid harming the greater good. In interacting with others, avoid hurting feelings with your words."

Ning Ji's eyes lit up. "Easy to remember and easy to learn!"

Chen Ping'an laughed. "Easy to remember, but not necessarily easy to learn."

For Chen Ping'an, living in this world, running around and toiling, was nothing but a series of... stealing techniques. Knowing your shortcomings, seeking to emulate the virtuous, and knowing when to stop and be satisfied.

The day when there was "no technique left to steal"—that would probably be the day he truly reached the realm of "I am already a grandmaster."

Ning Ji said, "I've only learned the surface level. Compared to what you call 'learning well,' I'm still a million miles away."

Chen Ping'an again reached his hand outside the umbrella. The raindrops, formed of golden characters, fell onto his palm. He found that he still couldn't catch them; the Dao rhyme within the characters would disperse on its own. If he kept his hand there for a long time, it even started to feel a bit hot. Earlier, Chen Ping'an had also tried to draw these soybean-sized raindrops into the river of time within his own small heaven and earth, but he found that he couldn't keep the golden characters either. If he forced it, he could form a pond of text, but the golden Dao energy would still fade away, leaving only stagnant water.

Not that Chen Ping'an was being arrogant. When he couldn't retain the Dao rhyme with his natal flying sword or magical techniques, it meant that many Ascension stage cultivators were in the same situation. That was only natural, or rather, it was the appropriate way for the Three Cornerstone Founders to scatter their Way. Trying to solve it with brute force as a peak cultivator was a delusion. The real answer probably lay in the Dao heart and Dao power—whether one truly recognized the roots of the Three Cornerstone teachings in one's heart. Only then could one receive this great gift of the Dao.

Ning Ji followed suit, reaching out to catch the rain. The raindrops pounded against his palm, stinging painfully. Such heavy rain! He grimaced and was about to pull his hand back.

Chen Ping'an's expression shifted slightly. He straightened the umbrella, which had been tilted toward the youth, and patted him on the shoulder. "Ning Ji, I think this rain is going to last a long time. Go back to the house and get an umbrella. I'll wait for you here. No need to rush. Remember to change into dry clothes."

Ning Ji had been thinking the same thing. The school was still some distance away, and he couldn't let the master get his shoulders wet just to shield him.

Without another word, the youth turned and ran back through the heavy rain, his steps light and his movements agile. With each breath, a puff of white mist rose above his head.

Chen Ping'an stood there, and soon saw the boy returning in dry clothes, holding an umbrella and carrying another oilpaper one under his arm—that one was for Senior Brother Zhao.

How fortunate it was to have met these students and disciples at that time and this moment.

Ning Ji jogged up to Chen Ping'an's side and summoned the courage to ask, "Could I ask the master a question?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "What's there to ask about permission? Just go ahead."

Ning Ji asked curiously, "What kind of person does the master want to become?"

Chen Ping'an reached out and touched the boy's head, giving an answer that wasn't an answer. "If you ask where the master is going, when the student arrives, he will know himself."

Ning Ji was deeply impressed. "That's another golden saying worthy of a motto. Truly, the master's knowledge is vast."

Chen Ping'an lightly tapped the boy on the head and said with a laugh, "From now on, talk more about learning with Cao Qinglang and less idle chatter with Cui Dongshan."

Ning Ji muttered softly, "Junior Brother's knowledge is actually quite extensive too. The principles he encouraged me to study humbly with were all very well said."

Chen Ping'an asked casually, "For example?"

Ning Ji said, "For example, Junior Brother asked me: if a person can see the tip of an autumn hair but cannot see a cartload of firewood, is that acceptable? Of course, I only half understood and didn't dare talk nonsense. So Junior Brother answered his own question and explained it to me. First, he said, 'I give you a method to resolve doubts,' and then he told me to treasure the precious opportunity of spending every day with you, to watch more, listen more, and learn more. Even learning three or four tenths of the skill, from books and beyond, would be enough to benefit me for life."

Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "And you actually believed that?"

Ning Ji looked puzzled. "I believe it. Why wouldn't I? How could I not? Just last time, watching you at the table persuading the River God to drink, the more I thought about it afterward, the more I felt there was knowledge in it."

Chen Ping'an chuckled. "What a fine example you've picked."

Ning Ji really wanted to chat more with the master, so he asked again, "Besides long-term goals, what knowledge are you studying recently, Master?"

Chen Ping'an said, "I'm thinking about a game of chess. How few moves does an opponent have to make on the board before the outcome is certain? And also, I'm considering whether all human nature shares the same source but diverges into different streams."

Ning Ji let out a wow, deeply amazed. That was definitely beyond his ability to learn.

Walking along the stream path, they passed an old tree. The leaves were piled green, wind and rain sounded on the branches. The same stream water flowed, but the mountains couldn't hold it back. Usually it just murmured, sobbing for others; in the rainstorm season, it spoke loudly. The master and student walked slowly under their umbrellas. As they neared the school, Ning Ji suddenly said softly, "Master."

Chen Ping'an teased him, "What, are you so inspired that you want to recite a poem?"

The youth had originally wanted to ask why the master was willing to stop and teach in this remote village, but the master's interruption made him decide not to ask.

Chen Ping'an said seriously, "Our Literary Sage lineage really needs to produce a top scholar."

Ning Ji immediately shook his head like a rattle-drum. "I dare not think about that, dare not."

Chen Ping'an laughed. "You can think about it. You can."

About a quarter of an hour before classes were to start, Chen Ping'an put away his umbrella and stood under the eaves. The wind and rain were vast, the sky and earth dim. He gazed into the distance at the stone sundial carved on the edge of the threshing ground.

It was about time to meet that true heart demon.

Whether he could return to the Jade Perfection stage and touch the bottleneck anew still depended on what that sneaky, well-hidden heart demon was up to.

Those heart demons that had been cut out and dismantled, because they were rooted in a part of Chen Ping'an's humanity, were not pure. It was like two armies facing off. The heart demon, as the commander of one side, always hid in the shadows, constantly driving hundreds of thousands, even millions of soldiers to attack cities and seize territory. It deliberately showed weakness and tested the waters. In the end, it was a tug-of-war between that heart demon and the pure divine nature of Chen Ping'an, standing atop a mountain of white bones—two extremes, the complexity of the human heart versus the purity of divinity.

In fact, Chen Ping'an had once had a wild idea of "luring the enemy into a trap." That was to build a ethereal, bone-piled Longevity Bridge within his own small heaven and earth before the Three Cornerstone Founders dispersed their Way. By visualizing, he would lay out a so-called "path to heaven," so that the heavenly demon from beyond the heavens in the Qingming world—one that roamed free of Dao rules and could be considered a Fifteen-Stage heavenly demon—would notice this battle in the Haoran world. The demon would actively enter this "ancient battlefield" where Chen Ping'an held the advantages of time, place, and unity. Then, the Three Cornerstone Founders could catch them all in one net. This was what Chen Ping'an had previously referred to at Jise Peak as having a "bottom-line" measure when talking with his master, Old Scholar. At the same time, of course, it meant taking great risks, pushing Chen Ping'an into danger, but it also held the possibility of a meteoric rise.

The old man in the back courtyard of Yang's Medicine Shop had left a letter, meaningfully asking Chen Ping'an: "Have you eaten enough?"

If you must eat, then eat the biggest! Use external forces to try to directly dissolve a Fifteen-Stage heavenly demon! Eat as much as you can, and save what you can't for later.

Zhou Mi, who had successfully ascended and departed, now occupied a remnant of the ancient Heavenly Court. That was the gift of the Heavenly Dao. With this, Zhou Mi began to pursue the Sixteenth Stage from the Fifteenth.

According to the old man's usual style of doing things, Chen Ping'an, as the "half of one" that was evenly split with Zhou Mi, must have another similar "gift" waiting in the human world for him to harvest—just like spring planting and autumn harvesting in the fields. The key was whether Chen Ping'an dared to think of it and could accomplish it.

Even if inviting a god was easy but sending them off was hard, and even the Three Cornerstone Founders couldn't eradicate the root of the heavenly demon, don't forget that Chen Ping'an still had a strand of his spiritual mind training with the sword beyond the heavens. Looking down from on high.

Accompanied by the Sword Holder.

That was another kind of bottom-line guarantee for Chen Ping'an.

This was the seventh layer of thought and reasoning in Chen Ping'an's current seclusion.

But now, it seemed that Chen Ping'an's scheme had completely failed. That heavenly demon hadn't taken the bait. Maybe it thought the bait was too small, maybe the presence of the Dao Ancestor made it cautious, or maybe it had long been weighing the pros and cons and saw through the mind of this mere Nascent Soul ant like Chen Ping'an. A Fourteenth Stage demon? How dare it compete with him as an equal?

In short, his meticulously layered plans, in its eyes, were like a child's play—a kindergartner shaking his head and reciting the profound meaning of the Dao Ancestor's three thousand words.

Chen Ping'an smiled wryly. At least he had tried his utmost.

He had walked far and met many people. He couldn't remember when or who had said it: Guilt comes from having done something wrong, regret comes from having not done something.

Chen Ping'an raised his eyes. The rain was like a curtain.

When the sky is one above, the sky becomes empty.

Certain Ascension stage cultivators at perfection then had more opportunities.

The four seasons were clear and beautiful, human feelings harmonious. Winter ice melted in spring, wild grass grew on its own.

Wild grass grew deep.

Ning Ji called softly from the kitchen, "Master, breakfast is ready."

Chen Ping'an withdrew his thoughts and walked into the kitchen. For breakfast, there was rice porridge with pickled vegetables and two tea eggs. All three of them had come from humble beginnings, so they ate with gusto.

Chen Ping'an suddenly said, "Shuxia, Ning Ji, I hope you can become this kind of person."

Zhao Shuxia stopped his chopsticks. Ning Ji looked up and asked, "What kind of person?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "For example, people like Liu Jinglong of the Taiwei Sword Sect, or Wen Yu, the head of the Tianmu Academy—scholars worthy of the term 'pure Confucian.' When you look at them, they seem stern; when you approach them, they are warm."

Over at Fallen Mountain, because the rain was falling too heavily, Daoist Xianwei decided not to keep watch at the mountain gate. He stayed with Zheng Dafeng and Chen Lingjun to chat, dragging long benches and sitting under the eaves to enjoy the rain.

Just idle talk, sliding wherever their feet took them like stepping on a watermelon rind. Zheng Dafeng casually brought up the term "spirit full and Qi sufficient," saying that wild beasts wouldn't hurt children, just as the Buddha's dragons and elephants could easily drive away and tame wild beasts. A mountain's temple or Daoist site had its own Dao energy, and a person also had their own human flavor and divine aura. Upon hearing this, Daoist Xianwei fell into thought. The green-clad child took it lightly, thinking only that Dafeng brother did have something to him after all.

The little incense-fire figure from the City God Temple, who came to clock in here, was famously undeterred by wind or rain. When he didn't see Daoist Xianwei at the mountain gate, he rode a new mount—a black serpent—and slithered toward the residence. Seeing those three idlers, the vermilion-clad boy felt quite pained. Since Daoist Jingqing was a trusted confidant of Mountain Lord Chen, and the boy was only half an insider at Fallen Mountain, he didn't say much. Familiar with the place, he went to Daoist Xianwei's study, clocked in and signed his name, then told the green serpent to wait at the mountain gate while he crossed the mountains to find Dharma Protector Zhou. Not long ago, Mountain Lord Chen had indeed kept his promise and visited the Chuzhou City God Temple. That blockhead Gao Ping seemed to have finally wised up and, without any airs, had taken the initiative to drink with Mountain Lord Chen. They chatted about some military tactics—high-flown stuff about deploying troops and devising strategies. The vermilion-clad boy didn't understand much, but he was both happy and anxious. If only you had acted like this sooner in the official circles of mountains and rivers, Gao Ping, you'd probably be the Grand City God of the Great Li capital by now.

Over at the Great Li capital, the old Nascent Soul cultivator Liu Jia, who had been guarding the small alley outside the "Echoing Hall," submitted his resignation to the Ministry of Justice and gave up his post as gatekeeper. The old man said he wanted to visit another continent.

He wasn't stupid. The old man knew that ever since Chen Ping'an had come to this alley, every outsider who had appeared here since, whether he recognized them or not, and everyone he had stopped outside the alley, were the kind of "high-level people he had never seen before." So that joke of Chancellor Cui Chan's back then could be considered fulfilled. Liu Jia planned to first go to the Northern Juying Continent. But before taking a cross-continent ferry to leave Bao Ping Continent, the old man first made a trip to Chuzhou. He got off the boat at Niujiao Crossing and walked to the foot of Fallen Mountain's main gate. In the pouring rain, the old man held an umbrella, looked at the mountain gate archway, and then left. Although he didn't ascend the mountain, he was still satisfied.

Yu Lu and Xie Xie continued northward, eventually arriving in the territory of the former Lu Dynasty. The once-royal capital of that fallen kingdom was now located in Zhao Province of Great Li.

How to handle the capital of a fallen dynasty, especially the imperial palace, was something the Ministry of Works of Great Li was very good at, experienced indeed.

From a capital to a provincial city, the marketplace remained bustling and noisy. The streets and alleys that had once neighbored the old aristocratic clans had mostly become commoners' homes.

The young emperor and the female national teacher, who had restored their kingdom in Tongye Continent, did not linger here. They left this city that once belonged to the Lu family. Sometimes they traveled together through the wind, but more often they walked on land, through rural villages where roosters crowed, dogs barked, cooking smoke curled, and children played affectionately.

On the way, they passed a place with sparse green bamboo, a few peach branches leaning over the river, and a group of ducks swimming across the shimmering water covered in peach blossoms. Yu Lu immediately started picking a fishing spot and casting his line—a real mood killer.

Finally, they reached a mountain that had once been the ancestral mountain of the Lu Dynasty's foremost immortal mansion. It had been taken over by a local sect of Great Li, second only to the Changchun Palace in prestige among the mountain immortal mansions. The Song family of Great Li was never harsh or ungrateful to those who had helped them gain power in the past. Because it had occupied this Daoist site and received strong support from the Great Li court, the sect had grown from a bottom-tier third-rate mountain sect in Bao Ping Continent to a second-rate force in less than fifty years. Yu Lu had been fine throughout the journey, but Xie Xie was a woman with strong patriotic feelings and a sentimental nature. The more indifferent Yu Lu acted, the more she had to curse him. This was Xie Xie's first return home since she had been relocated as a convict of the Lu family to the old Long Province. Seeing the sights of the old mountains again, compared to the great war that had swept across several continents, and looking back at this homeland, they felt something like a small rise and fall in the mountains and rivers.

The new Daoists in the mountain looked down today. The old masters of this mountain looked up now. On the ridge, white clouds were still abundant.

Xie Xie cried hard. But it wasn't a heart-wrenching wail. She just crouched by the roadside, covering her face with both hands, refusing to get up.

Yu Lu didn't comfort her. He just silently waited for her to finish crying, then took her to find a place to drink. They had traveled together several times and had long developed an understanding.

In the heavy rain, at a roadside tavern, an old wine seller dozed off. When customers arrived, he wasn't very enthusiastic. The young shop assistant was more sociable, but unfortunately, he had run into a couple of poor folks. He guessed they might be a young couple eloping, because their clothes suggested they weren't the type who couldn't afford good wine.

A tall, slender middle-aged man, wearing a neat black robe, took off his woven bamboo rain hat. A man with a purple jade hairpin stood under the eaves, gently waving his hat to shake off the raindrops. He chose a table nearby and sat down, ordering half a catty of locally brewed loose liquor and two dishes to go with it. He took a sip and turned to look at Yu Lu. "Consider it a good match," he said with a smile.

People who don't like drinking—no matter what they drink, they're just drinking the name and price of the wine.

If Chen Ping'an hadn't warned him in advance, Yu Lu really wouldn't have guessed the other's identity. Smiling, he said, "White Sword Immortal, did you come looking for me specifically?"

Xie Xie was very nervous.

After all, the other party might be a Flying Ascension stage sword cultivator. If not for Huolong Zhenren of the Prostrate Peak, the sword cultivator Bai Shang could claim to be the foremost mountain figure of Northern Juying Continent.

Bai Shang smiled faintly. "The descendants of the Lu family have been getting worse with each generation, until Crown Prince Lu Ji appeared."

"It's a pity that this true dragon was confined to his princely residence and died young before he could fulfill his potential. In the end, he still lived as a joke. If I remember correctly, those youths who traveled far to study—Chen Ping'an was fourteen, just learning his fist techniques, while Yu Lu was already a Sixth Stage martial artist. You broke through to the Golden Body Stage in the book tower of the Shanya Academy in the Great Sui Dynasty. Truly, thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river. Looking at it now, Yu Lu is a Far Journeying martial artist, while Chen Ping'an has already seen the martial arts scenery of the Return to Truth layer of the Ultimate Realm. Comparing people really drives one to despair."

"What do you think, Lu Ji?"

Yu Lu smiled. "Lu Ji became Yu Lu, and Lu Yue became Bai Shang. Actually, if I'm not mistaken, there seems to be another Lu Dynasty founding emperor, Lu Qing, in between."

Bai Shang picked up his wine bowl and laughed. "A white-robed immortal sends you wine. Will you accept it?"

Yu Lu laughed back. "Getting coal in the snow—why not?"

Bai Shang asked, "Aren't you worried that Chen Ping'an might feel some discord, that it might weaken the hard-won bond of friendship you've built, causing you to drift apart and outweighing any gains?"

Yu Lu said, "Even brothers settle accounts clearly. White Sword Immortal, you need not worry about that."

Bai Shang took out a brocade box and said, "I have only one direct disciple, named Xu Xuan. He can go to Tongye Continent and serve as your royal chief patron. As for the pills inside the box, they are extraordinarily precious. Consider them a gift from me. You can take them yourself, but then you won't be able to continue as emperor. Of course, you can also give them away. Nascent Soul and Ascension stage cultivators shouldn't take these pills; it would waste their value. I obtained these pills from the ruins of a thatched hut and alchemy furnace at Thorn Mountain. The immortal master's surname was Ge, his Dao name Huainan. His whereabouts are vague and unpredictable, without desires or demands. He likes to hold precepts and travel through the five capitals, going back and forth between the living and the dead. He's probably only half a step away from being beyond the Five Elements. He's considered one of my senior brothers, though we've never met. A sword undergoes a hundred refinements, alchemy a hundred distillations. I only know that this Brother Ge, highly valued by our master, was best at concocting miraculous elixirs that could revive the dead and return souls to their bodies. He never took disciples, never wrote books, so it's beyond our generation to know his construction and alchemical methods. Later generations only know the general outline. I learned about this pill, called the 'Fourth Formula,' also known as the 'Hundred-Day Immortal,' from a strange person."

Yu Lu took the brocade box without hesitation and asked, "How did you and Chen Ping'an become enemies?"

Bai Shang looked at the dark rain curtain outside the door and said with a carefree smile, "Whether intentionally or unintentionally, he ultimately ruined a considerable scheme of mine. Otherwise, I would be at least at the peak of Ascension stage today and could have long sought the Fourteenth Stage path."

Yu Lu said, "That sounds like a considerable grudge."

Bai Shang smiled lightly. "Actually, it's not too bad. After all, we're fellow countrymen. On a narrow mountain path, each shows his own skill. Whether winning or losing, it's not too stifling."

Yu Lu asked, "But there will definitely be a sword duel?"

Bai Shang drained his wine bowl in one gulp and said with a slightly helpless tone, "It has to be an open and fair sword duel at the same stage."

There was no other way. That Chen Ping'an had remarkably good luck and far too many identities now.

Cui Dongshan and Jiang Shangzhen had divided their duties clearly. In the Lotus Root Blessed Land, on two isolated pieces of land, each watched one area, checking along the formation boundaries for any vulnerabilities and whether they could find any fish that had slipped through the net. Chief Zhou had decent luck and actually found a very hidden "side gate" path in a great formation. Good technique. With great skill comes great boldness. It was just unclear whether this deeply hidden big fish was currently inside or outside. Jiang Shangzhen had his Yang Spirit avatar wait at the spot like a fool guarding a tree stump, while his Yin Spirit departed for a distant journey, continuing to patrol various places quickly. Since the area wasn't large, he used the dumbest method, darting around like a headless fly. As for his true body, he hovered in the air, looking down at the land. When it came to using knowledge, he regretted how little he had. Deduction and calculation had always been Jiang Shangzhen's least favorite and least willing to study.

Chen Ping'an's talisman clone, acting as an observer, quietly left the Flower-Begging Ground temple at Dieye Mountain. He first found the old man who called himself Tao Zhe, asking him for help in examining the "past lives" of Yuan Huang and Wu Jiang. It turned out there were no problems. Both young martial artists were native-born people of the Lotus Flower Blessed Land.

Chen Ping'an's relationship to this blessed land was somewhat like Lu Chen's to the Qingming world from the Jade Capital. He monitored all living beings and those who had attained the Dao. As long as he had enough patience, finding someone was easy—provided the other party didn't have some heaven-obscuring, extraordinary means. After confirming that both Yuan Huang and Wu Jiang had clean backgrounds, Chen Ping'an went to find the female cultivator who had used an Immortal Binding Rope at the Great Wood Temple. Sure enough, this woman, who had founded her own sect, had, on her way back to her immortal mansion, undergone something like a cicada sloughing in her carriage—she had entered a sitting-death. Her disciples initially thought the sect leader was truly in seclusion. But when the carriage reached the mountain gate and she still showed no sign of emerging, the disciples had to guard the carriage. Chen Ping'an, using the technique of Shrinking the Earth several times, arrived at this sect, which had only her and one other Qi refiner. He lifted the carriage curtain and saw that the woman who had voluntarily dissolved her physical form looked as alive as ever. Good—a golden cicada shedding its shell, the thirty-sixth stratagem: if you can't win, run.

Chen Ping'an had no choice but to summon that pure divine nature version of himself. Temporarily leaving that mental image of the bone mound, a white-robed Chen Ping'an with golden eyes crouched inside the carriage. He reached out and patted the woman's pale face, laughing and cursing, "Shameless enough, pretending to be a woman as a grown man. How did you think of that? Showing off with a talisman clone—yours is nothing compared to mine..." If the real Chen Ping'an, busy at the school teaching children their Confucian classics, had been here, a good kick would have been unavoidable. The white-robed Chen Ping'an, rarely out and about, muttered incessantly while still getting down to business. He pressed a finger against the "corpse-sitting" woman's cicada-slough forehead, then gently pulled. A faint, wriggling thread of pale gold was drawn out. The golden thread wavered unsteadily, as if it might scatter in the wind at any moment, and its golden luster faded rapidly, visibly turning into a mercury-like color. Chen Ping'an waved his hand and said with a laugh, "Off you go!"

The thread flashed and vanished into the distance.

The white-robed Chen Ping'an followed, shooting out of the carriage. He flew swiftly through the wind, his wide sleeves fluttering, his form ethereal, following that golden thread straight toward the area Jiang Shangzhen was responsible for patrolling.

The sole surviving Qi refiner in the sect, though not high in realm, had impeccable judgment of the situation. He didn't pursue the trespasser's insolence or offense. Instead, he prostrated himself on the ground, repeatedly calling out, "Immortal Lord above," hoping only that he wouldn't be exterminated root and branch. The bewildered disciples behind him fell to their knees in a cascade.

The thread, now nearly transparent, passed through a side gate of the formation. Jiang Shangzhen was startled. Before he knew it, he saw Mountain Lord Chen brushing past him, laughing and saying, "Chief Zhou, now is the time to build a great achievement. A single willow leaf accompanies me to slay earth immortals..."

The thread dissipated outside a brothel. Not exactly a complete failure.

The white-robed Chen Ping'an descended gracefully, shook his sleeves, and strode into the heavily perfumed brothel. Speaking in the purest archaic Barbarian language, he smiled and said, "So you were hiding here. Elegant, truly elegant. Fellow Daoist, you really know how to pick a place."

Chen Ping'an walked to the center of the main hall and looked around. Upstairs and downstairs were filled with fluttering beauties, with an old madam and a pimp busy at work. The flesh trade was also a livelihood, manual labor—nothing shameful about it.

Still not using telepathic speech, Chen Ping'an smiled. "Since I've come to call, fellow Daoist, don't bother hiding. Begging for mercy is useless. Since you're a dead soldier, go meet your death with grace."

The old madam, still somewhat attractive beneath her heavy rouge, was taken aback. She chewed on his words and got the flavor: someone had hired a rival to cause trouble, and the trick was new. Lowly! She immediately screeched, "Where did this bastard come from, daring to cause trouble here? Don't you know that Inspector Zhao is a regular customer of ours?"

Back then, half of Tongye Continent's five hundred thousand refugees were now scattered across seven or eight major cities and large towns. As for most Qi refiners, the Jiang clan of Yunku had herded them like ducks into another territory. If this place was dominated by martial artists, where might made right, over there the immortals roamed free, but it was still about skill and reasoning. Both sides knew deep down that times had changed. They were far from home and living under someone else's roof, so neither side went too far.

Chen Ping'an laughed. "It's you, then. To be honest, your acting is quite mediocre, fellow Daoist. All these years you've been busy carving and selling books, haven't you visited the theater troupes much?"

The old madam, with the appearance and figure of a middle-aged woman, was momentarily speechless. She stared fixedly at the extremely unfamiliar young Hidden Official and let out a faint sigh. "The Hidden Official's reputation is well-deserved."

Chen Ping'an asked curiously, "Is this your true form?"

She asked, puzzled, "I've been careful enough. Could you tell me how you found me?"

Chen Ping'an smiled faintly. "I happened to be passing by. I've never had flowers and wine in a brothel before, so I came in for a look."

She seemed to have accepted her fate, without even a hint of trying to escape. She said tremblingly, "One last question for the Hidden Official: how can I live?"

Chen Ping'an raised one palm and shook it gently. The flesh melted away, and his hand instantly became a pile of white bones. The flesh that fell off gathered into a ball in the air. "Take it."

She stared, dumbfounded. Had this young Hidden Official lost his mind? All her years of meticulous scheming were to obtain a strand of his hair or a piece of his flesh. Failing that, seeing him in person would do, though the effect would be greatly diminished. If the causal transference wasn't sufficient, she might not be able to severely damage the foundation of Chen Ping'an's Dao. If that really didn't work, she would "frame" that fox kingdom female cultivator who was out on a journey.

Chen Ping'an said with a beaming smile, "You're a 'Brow-Painter and Clothes-Seamer,' I suppose? Maybe also a 'Master of Unofficial Histories' and a rare 'Offering Priest' from the Barbarian world? Many skills don't weigh you down, and being able to fuse them all together—by all rights, you should have no trouble getting by in the Barbarian world. Why stay here and spar with me?"

She reached out with two fingers and peeled off three layers of skin like garments. First, she became Lord Zhao, the Inspector. Then, she was a refined middle-aged scholar. Finally, she revealed her true appearance—still a woman, but younger-looking, with a ghastly pale face, bright red lips, and a very noticeable scar on her neck from which threads of sword energy slowly seeped, twisting her otherwise handsome face. She asked, "Hidden Official, do you still remember me?"

The white-robed Chen Ping'an shook his head. "Truly, I don't."

If he didn't remember, he truly didn't remember.

Seeing that she wasn't taking the bait, he retracted the ball of false flesh, which looked like mashed mud, and restored it to his palm.

Jiang Shangzhen, having gathered his Yang Spirit and Yin Spirit, sat on the railing of the second floor. It had been a long time since he last visited a brothel.

She suddenly flew into a rage, pressing her hand against the wound on her neck, looking like a madwoman. "Ning Yao! It's all that bitch Ning Yao's fault! She hacked at me with her random sword strikes on the battlefield, completely ruining my chance to break into the Upper Five Stages..."

Jiang Shangzhen felt his scalp tingle. He couldn't help but look at the mountain lord. Strange—why hadn't he stopped this woman's cursing? But it looked like he himself wouldn't need to use his natal flying sword.

In an instant, the female Nascent Soul cultivator from the Barbarian world found herself in a bizarre and mysterious situation.

There was no eerie, sinister aura, no sign of hidden danger. Instead, it felt more like a forest of gold and jade, where the spiritual energy was thick as water.

When she tried various escape techniques, she found that no matter how hard she tried to fly away at full speed, the seemingly small mountain grew proportionally larger, preventing her from ever leaving its bounds. It was as if the mountain and her form were locked in an absolute, fitting relationship. She exhausted all her means, pulling out a bunch of natal objects and magical techniques. Every time she shattered the mountain, it would reform the next moment. This nearly broke her Dao heart. She was stuck with the mountain, and she didn't even know if days or months had passed. Finally, she had to give up the idea of breaking the formation by force and started climbing the mountain. The mountain seemed to have eternal spring. Along the path, wintersweet, narcissus, peach blossoms, crabapple... all the flowers bloomed in succession. There was a young banished immortal, diligently brewing wine while waiting for the blooming season.

At the mountain peak, the white-robed host, full of Dao energy, sat at a table. He extended one hand, pointing to the bowl of wine on the table, and said with a faint smile, "Remember, this is called shu liquor."

She stood still.

He continued with a smile, "This is called shu liquor. Remember? Young lady, you've certainly forgotten. It's fine; I can say it again."

After that, he repeated "shu liquor" over and over. And the female cultivator listened to that same "opening line" over and over.

This version of her only knew that the white-robed man was introducing the name of the wine each time. But the other version of her, which seemed to have been separated from her soul, had already been on the verge of a Dao heart collapse before even climbing the mountain. Because she clearly remembered that the young Hidden Official had repeated "this is called shu liquor" hundreds of times! In her hazy awareness, she perceived that the other version of herself had already completely forgotten the word "shu liquor"!

The white-robed Chen Ping'an finally changed his wording. "On the way here, you saw wintersweet, narcissus, peach blossom, crabapple, rose, peony..."

Each time Chen Ping'an said a flower's name, the version of her outside her mind completely forgot that flower's name. It was as if she had never heard of or seen that flower in her entire life.

"Flower."

When Chen Ping'an said this character in a step-by-step manner, it seemed that in her life's experience, that object no longer existed.

"Nascent Soul Stage." "Barbarian World." "Qi Refiner."

When Chen Ping'an said these three phrases, she subsequently forgot each one.

Was this swordsmanship? Or divine power?!

This Chen Ping'an was simply... a monster, neither human, nor immortal, nor god, nor ghost!

He didn't have to make the enemy die and disappear, their souls scattered. On the contrary, he deliberately preserved their completeness, only tampering with the mind of a cultivator?

The strand of her mind that had already fallen into despair knew that if Chen Ping'an wished, he could first erase her, fill in her heart lake, and then the entire "her" would become a blank sheet of paper. Chen Ping'an could write any words on it, and she would become that person.

"Who taught you?"

"When the Dao is one foot tall, the demon is ten feet. Having been entangled with my heart demon for a long time, I had to learn this technique to protect myself."

"Why did you leave this bit of my intelligence?"

"For practice. You need to be verified against each other."

Afterward, Chen Ping'an reversed the order, returning the content of "Qi Refiner," "Barbarian World," and so on—until that line "this is called shu liquor"—back to her one by one.

She was now ready to die without resistance, with no ambition left.

Only then did she realize that cultivation could be... so heretical. The Dao could be cultivated this way, and this kind of Dao could be cultivated.

But she didn't know why he remained silent for so long. When she, with her mind and form restored, looked up, she saw a white-robed Hidden Official with tears streaming down his face.

Her mind went blank first, then a flash of insight struck. She blurted out, "Are you Chen Ping'an's heart demon?!"

The white-robed man wiped away his tears, the corners of his mouth curling up in a cry-smile. "Who says I'm not?"

Only at this moment did she realize that where she stood, white bones formed mountains, all skeletons.

A man in a blue robe with a purple jade hairpin in his hair materialized out of thin air. His eyes were golden, and he said with a faint smile, "Finally found you. The wine brewer is the heart demon, the wine drinker is the divine spirit. Is the order reversed?"

The heavy rain paused momentarily. The sky cleared, but the rain seemed likely to continue. At the village school, a teacher squatted by the stream, scrubbing a pair of pants stained with feces and urine. He was practiced at it—it wasn't the first time. Beside him stood a bare-bottomed child. The child refused to go home and put on underwear. The teacher talked him into it, and the boy finally ran home, then swaggered back to find the teacher wasn't there. He panicked, but it turned out the teacher hadn't hung his underwear on the bamboo pole in the threshing ground. Inside the school, the sound of recitation was clear and sonorous. The teacher stood at the door. The child sighed in relief, ran to the teacher's side, and whispered a complaint: that A Mei seemed to want to drop out too, because her parents thought the teacher's teaching wasn't proper. If children followed the teacher for elementary education, they wouldn't have a future. A man with no beard and no wife at his age—what could he do? No wonder he always had a wandering gaze, staring at girls and women on the street. If you wanted to learn real stuff, you had to go to that old scholar's school in Wuxi Village. You couldn't ruin your child's future just to save a bit on tuition. Wasn't that old scholar always saying, "You get what you pay for"? This kind of cheap teacher was a disgrace to the scholarly profession and would mislead the children... The young teacher listened to the child's chatter, frowning with worry. He only had a few students to begin with, and three had already dropped out in just a few days. Any more would be too much. The child said a sincere word first, then asked a heart-wrenching question: "Teacher, don't worry, I'm definitely on your side. But tell me the truth—how many years of schooling have you had? How many books have you read?" Chen Ping'an touched the child's head and said with a smile, "Your teacher has never had a single day of schooling, but I've read many, many books..." The child sighed, patted the teacher's wrist, and said, "Teacher, please stop. If you keep talking, I'll want to drop out too. I was thinking of becoming a scholar someday. Teacher, just refund the tuition. I don't have to drop out—just give back the money. Don't give it to my dad. We'll split it. We'll go buy some candied hawthorns. Forget about the scholar's degree for now." Chen Ping'an lightly rapped the child on the head and said with a laugh, "Might as well go study."