Chapter 1087: Revenge Is a Solitary Drink

Chapter 1087: Revenge Is a Solitary Drink

A thorough and satisfying revenge is like a grand drinking binge where one never goes home sober.
Drinking alone, sipping slowly, enjoying the solitude is enough.

A man wearing a golden crown, a green gauze dharma robe swirling with purple qi, holding a gleaming white jade lingzhi in his hands, and stepping on a pair of plain white cloud-treading shoes.
He appeared to be around thirty years old, with flawless features and an immaculate dao body, though his face was not particularly handsome.
He looked like a banished immortal from tales of gods and spirits, his home nestled among mountains and rivers, with dense bamboo groves and flowers. Or like a hermit Daoist who had emerged from a poem about roaming immortals, building a thatched hut for cultivation and occasionally stepping into the mortal world.
He strolled leisurely, with each few steps revealing a new scene.
Around him appeared different colors and paintings: finely detailed pavilions and towers, ink-wash freehand gardens, and blue-green landscape courtyards.

Not long ago, when Chen Ping'an had ascended to the immortal realm, it had only made his appearance appear a few years younger.

This Wusha Street in Yongjia County, which in the previous dynasty had been a cluster of noble mansions, now saw a shift of power with each new reign. Aside from this former chancellor's residence, there were two other large adjacent mansions that had also changed owners. The old Qi Prince's mansion and a censor's mansion had long been acquired by the Ma clan. Since the Ma clan adhered to an ancestral maxim that "dividing the household but not the kitchen, and dividing the kitchen means breaking up the family," they had never separated households or kitchens in the nearly thirty years since settling here, nor had they allowed any branch families to establish separate registries or divide the family wealth. The three mansions were connected by a side door, so half the street belonged to the Ma surname.

Inside that courtyard, Chen Ping'an, dressed in a blue shirt with a sword on his back, lifted his foot, the sole finally leaving Ma Yan's cheek. Seeming to find it dirty, he scraped it against the ground's green bricks and smiled. "Ma Yan and Qin Zheng can now go down and tend to their injuries. With your wrists broken, the secret formulas for wound medicines passed down by Old Master Shen probably won't work. There are a few rare elixirs stored in the Jia cabinet in the Ma clan's secret storeroom. Combined with the plasters from the Yang Family Pharmacy, they might still be useful. Remember to use them sparingly—those plasters are rare items that diminish with each use. If you're lucky, that old immortal at the Nascent Soul stage can use the medical art of 'returning spring to withered trees' to reattach severed wrists. You can reattach one severed wrist. Ma Yuemei, you can leave with your parents. Remember to call Ma Che, Ma Chuan, and Ma Bi over here. That makes it three for three."

Ma Yuemei crouched down, trembling as she picked up the severed wrist still wearing a jade bracelet. She stood up, staring fixedly at that blue-shirted figure.

Ma Yan supported the nearly unconscious Qin Zheng and staggered out of the courtyard. He didn't forget to remind Ma Yuemei to hurry up and follow, signaling with his eyes for her not to act rashly.

Seeing that the woman didn't move, Chen Ping'an asked, "Can your eyes kill? If not, then stay here and stand rooted to the spot, glaring wide-eyed. Stare a while longer. Can you stare your enemy to death?"

Ma Yuemei's clear autumn-water eyes were etched with deep hatred. "Surnamed Chen, either kill me today, or I will spend my entire life making sure you and your Fallen Mountain—"

Before Ma Yuemei could finish her threat, Chen Ping'an smiled and pressed his two fingers together, lightly swiping toward the woman. The sword light was brilliant, like an iron wire slicing through tofu.

Ma Yuemei, stunned, lowered her head dazedly. That sword light cut diagonally through her body, splitting it in two. Her entrails spilled to the ground, still faintly steaming with white vapor.

Those green-clad maids who had already died once before, now witnessing such a horrifying scene as onlookers, most of them began to bend over and vomit.

Chen Ping'an sat down on the steps, pulled a booklet from his sleeve, lowered his head to flip open a page, then looked up at the ghastly scene not far away. He smiled. "Revenge is not a steaming-hot dish that you rush to the table. If you don't eat it, it will soon grow cold."

In a hazy, vast expanse, Ma Yuemei looked around. For some reason, she found herself inside the Ma clan's ancestral hall, sitting on a chair.

Following the voice, she turned her head toward the entrance. An extra chair had appeared there, on which sat a blue-shirted man with a sword resting across his knees, a jade hairpin in his head. He was drinking.

That 'Chen Ping'an' was a completely different person from the Sword Immortal Chen who casually killed people amid laughter in the courtyard.

The Chen Ping'an Ma Yuemei now saw was more like a divine statue—expressionless, with cold eyes, like a god sitting in corpse-like stillness.

At the same time, on the altar table below the Ma ancestral portraits and tablets, an old incense burner had appeared. Each 'incense stick' was the name of a Ma clan member.

Ma Yuemei also discovered in horror that beside the body of herself, which had been dismembered in the courtyard, stood an ethereal ghost version of Ma Yuemei, covering her face and weeping silently.

In the courtyard, Chen Ping'an turned to look at the entrance and reminded, "Ma Yan, Qin Zheng, I'll let you have a slight advantage—two for three. Within a quarter of an hour, if those two goods haven't come here to see me, I'll put the debt on your heads. There's no helping it; since you're the heads of the family, you'll have to bear a little more."

The couple hurried away without pausing a moment. As for Ma Yuemei's true fate—whether dead or alive, or whether she would die and revive like the green-clad maids—they couldn't spare the thought for now. They could only suppress their overwhelming hatred and make other plans. After all, the incense of the Xinghua Lane branch of the Ma clan rested on them, and especially on their eldest son, Ma Kuxuan. Beyond that, their younger daughter Ma Yuemei, or second son Ma Yanshan... they were what they were.

After that, Chen Ping'an reached out and grabbed a handful of pine needles from an ancient pine tree in the courtyard. He gently clenched them in his palm, then looked at two of the green-clad maids who had first attacked him. "If I remember correctly, you two are called Chunwen and Qiujun? Among the sixteen sword attendants, you two are the only Fourth Realm martial artists. That's quite remarkable. Anywhere in Precious Vase Continent, such a young Fourth Realm martial artist would be considered a top-notch talent for martial arts. Was it that bitch Qin Zheng who, hiding from your nominal mistress Ma Yuemei, secretly instructed and personally taught you how to become death warriors, to solidify my reputation for wanton killing here today? I'm just curious—did you get your promised reward? No? Or do you simply believe that since the Ma clan adopted you orphans, you must die when the master is insulted?"

The two young maidens, identically dressed in green silk, each had their own subtle details. The maid named Chunwen had a light, agile figure and wore a white horn-shaped crown, said to be the style of the Jade Xuan Kingdom's imperial palace. The other, called Qiujun, was slightly fuller and heavier, and she now hung her head low, lacking even the spirit to meet the gaze of Sword Immortal Chen.

The white-horn-crowned maid gritted her teeth. "This servant only regrets that her cultivation is too low to harm Sword Immortal Chen in the slightest. I can't even manage a fight to the death."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "That statement isn't quite accurate. 'Fight to the death'—you've at least achieved half of it."

As he spoke, he flicked his finger. A green pine needle shot out like a flying sword, piercing through the white-horn-crowned maid's forehead. Her delicate body went limp, and a single bead of blood seeped from her brow.

Chen Ping'an glanced at the detailed records of two Ma clan members in the ledger in his hand, smiled, then turned to look at Qiujun. "I'm worried Ma Yan and Qin Zheng have bad memories. You've always been close to Ma Chuan. I'm sure you wouldn't want your beloved to die inexplicably. Then I'll trouble Miss Qiujun to make a trip and buy that young master Ma a chance to live. But remember, don't reveal what happened here. Don't say a single word, or don't blame me for sending you two to be a pair of dead lovers."

Qiujun took her courage and left the Ma family head's study and reception area. Sure enough, that unpredictable and ruthless Sword Immortal Chen didn't trouble her further.

Meanwhile, the sword attendant with the white horn-shaped crown returned to her original state. In a daze, she subconsciously raised her hand and rubbed her brow, where the pine needle should have pierced. Having died twice in such a short time, her murderous intent had greatly diminished, and her spirit had flagged. Yet she still forced a breath of pure true qi, deliberately making herself appear murderous. She said in a low voice, "Is this all Sword Immortal Chen is capable of? Killing or cutting—it's just a nod of the head. Don't think that killing repeatedly with a flying sword is anything special. Even if it's a mountain of swords or a sea of fire, or boiling oil, just bring them all out. If I beg for mercy even half a word, it means I have no backbone..."

Chen Ping'an closed the ledger and smiled. "Losing the fight but not losing the spirit—that's quite a good temperament. You're still young, your martial arts realm insufficient. For now, you're just Ma Yuemei's assistant. Once you've learned seventy or eighty percent of Old Master Shen's skills, you'll probably become a capable accomplice of the Ma clan of Yongjia County, specializing in shady deeds, night missions, eliminating dissidents, or restraining the clan's immortal masters and retainers."

The white-horn-crowned maid, her face dark and sullen, said, "Even if I become a vengeful ghost, I will crawl—I swear I will crawl to Sword Immortal Chen's hometown, to Fallen Mountain, and take my revenge!"

Chen Ping'an narrowed his eyes and smiled, nodding. "Well said. In life, one should act according to one's heart—repay favors and avenge wrongs. The one who creates enmity and the one who seeks revenge each rely on their own abilities. But as a veteran who has walked many a path in the martial world, I'll give you a piece of free advice: when the situation doesn't favor you, a young person shouldn't show a fierce face or a murderous glare. Never mind—pay attention next life."

In an instant, another pine needle pierced her brow. The force carried the green-clad maid against the wall, where she slumped dead.

The green-clad maid raised her head. The world was dark and gloomy, with chilling winds blowing, cold and piercing. She looked around in confusion—everything was utterly unfamiliar, desolate and lifeless.

Was she really dead this time? Was she already on the Yellow Springs Road? Was there the so-called Ghost Gate and Meng Po Bridge from the books?

She stood in the middle of a muddy road after a heavy rain. Just then, she turned her head and saw a poor old woman riding a fine horse with exceptionally ornate saddle and bridle. The old woman was dressed in tattered, patched clothes, but the tall horse was clearly well-bred by a wealthy family. Ordinary families could never possess such a precious thing.

Spotting the green-clad maid on the road, the old woman hastily reined in her horse and stopped beside her. The old woman had a kind face. She leaned down slightly and asked in a low voice, "Young lady, where are you headed?"

The green-clad maid, whose surname had been bestowed as Ma and given name Wen Chun, asked in a trembling voice, "Old grandmother, may I ask if this is the road to the underworld?"

Hearing this, the old woman's expression grew even gentler. She smiled and said, "Young lady, are you returning to your parents' home and got separated from your family? Could it be that you were drenched by the rain and confused, saying such nonsensical things? Young lady, the rain has just stopped, the road is muddy and hard to travel. This area has had many tiger attacks since ancient times. It's not safe for a young lady to travel alone. Why not come to my humble home for a rest? You can leave at dawn tomorrow—it'll be more relaxed."

"Playing tricks on ghosts and spirits! Let's see if you're a god or a ghost, pretending to be mysterious here!"

The green-clad maid curled her lip, tapped her toe, and flicked a pebble from the road. The stone shot through the air with a whistling wind, flying straight toward the heart of the old woman sitting high on the horse. The old woman cried out in pain, fell from the horse onto the muddy ground, and lay still. The green-clad maid looked down, hesitated a moment, then slowly moved forward. She twisted her wrist, and a dagger slid from her sleeve into her palm.

That frail old woman, seemingly killed with one blow, suddenly opened her eyes. Blood flowed from her chest. She slowly got up, wiped her skirt, but only made it dirtier. She sighed and gave up, speaking hoarsely, "Little girl, I kindly advised you. Why did you suddenly kill? Aren't you afraid of killing an innocent? Even if you suspected I was a ghost or spirit, you should have kept your distance and shown respect."

The old woman looked down at the hollow wound, unconcerned, and continued muttering old truths, "Little girl, listen to my advice: the mind is the field of blessings. If a person's mind goes bad, weeds will grow, spoiling the year's harvest. Without a year's harvest, one must borrow. Borrowing means paying interest. Debt upon debt, suffering upon suffering—when will it ever end?"

The green-clad maid couldn't stand these annoying, nagging truths. She kicked directly, sending the old woman's entire head flying.

The old woman's head rolled in the mud, repeatedly murmuring, "Wrong again."

The next moment, the green-clad maid found herself standing back on the road. A single rider approached slowly. The old woman stopped her horse again, her expression gentle, and asked in a low voice, "Young lady, where are you headed?"

Before the green-clad maid could reply, the old woman urged the horse to rear up, and its hooves instantly stomped a hole through the maid's chest. The maid fell in pain. The old woman's expression remained kind. She slowly dismounted, swung her horsewhip—crack! like a thunderclap—and viciously broke the green-clad maid's head. It flew high and fell heavily. The green-clad maid followed the rolling head, her vision switching erratically between the blue sky and yellow mud.

The old woman's voice was gentle, like an elder in the family, as she softly admonished, "Young lady, still wrong?"

The next moment, the green-clad maid was standing on the road again. Hoofbeats sounded, approaching from afar. The old woman rode up once more, reined in her horse as if pulling back from a cliff, and smiled as she spoke.

Ma Chuan and Ma Bi were half-brothers, one year apart in age, both just over twenty. One was tall and thin, the other dark-faced with a short beard. Their appearances and builds were completely different. Both brothers were outstanding among the younger generation of the Ma clan, bearing scholarly titles. Unlike Ma Yanshan, whose title of tanhua had been obtained through his sister's proxy examination, Ma Chuan was a genuine juren from the Imperial Academy, second only to the child prodigy Ma Che as the top scholarly seed of the clan. As for Ma Bi, he merely paled in comparison—without comparison, he would still be considered a talented man among the noble families of the Jade Xuan Kingdom.

Earlier, the maid Qiujun, with a terrible expression on her face, had found them. She didn't explain the specific reason, only saying that the family head had ordered them to come immediately.

Ma Chuan wanted to ask what was going on, but Qiujun, unlike her usual gentle self, just bit her lip and said nothing. Along the way, Ma Chuan deliberately slowed his pace, walked behind his younger brother, and tried to take her hand. But Qiujun gently shook him off. This surprised Ma Chuan. In private meetings before, because Shen Ke, who taught them boxing, was sharp-eyed and an old hand, he could tell whether a woman was a virgin just by her walking posture. And Qiujun was one of Ma Yuemei's most trusted confidante maids. Even with his boldness, Ma Chuan didn't dare ruin her martial arts future.

When they finally entered the courtyard, they saw neither any Ma elders nor any familiar guest retainers.

They only saw the group of green-clad sword attendants, looking at them with strange expressions.

The main branch of the Ma clan had undergone a cataclysmic upheaval. The family head, Ma Yan, had been kicked, and the matriarch Qin Zheng had had a wrist severed. For now, the trouble hadn't spread to the adjacent mansions of the two side branches.

Ma Chuan and Ma Bi only noticed one unusual thing: a blue-shirted man with a sword on his back sat on the steps, holding a thick booklet in his hand.

A distinguished guest?

Could he be a son of some famous Jade Xuan Kingdom noble family, already renowned at court and in the countryside? Did the family head want them to come here to discuss scholarship with this man?

Ma Chuan made a bow. "May I ask your esteemed name?"

Chen Ping'an waved the ledger. "No need for formalities. Fellow countrymen. We'll talk later. Let's wait for the child prodigy Ma Che, the next top scholar officially designated by the court."

Ma Chuan kept his smile.

Ma Bi looked a bit displeased. This guy really knew how to put on airs—a face that didn't deserve it, and he dared to bring it to the Ma family! In this capital, even the imperial princes and nobles, or the children of ministers and generals, didn't act like this.

He'd heard that a few years ago, the Emperor and Empress, escorted by the National Teacher, had visited the Ma mansion incognito from the palace. They had dined on the Ma family's private cuisine, and the Empress had praised it endlessly. She had begged the Emperor to reward the Ma family with several scholarly treasures, which was indeed true—those items were now enshrined in the family's ancestral hall next to the shrine.

Unfortunately, at that time, the family head had only allowed the legitimate children and Ma Che to receive them. The rest hadn't had the chance to see the imperial countenance.

Ma Chuan used sound condensation to speak to Ma Bi secretly. "Ma Bi, this man is probably a descendant of an immortal from the mountains. I don't recall any such figure among the noble youths of the capital."

Ma Bi nodded. Anyone who could cross the Ma family's threshold must be either rich or noble. Since this man appeared with a sword on his back, he must have some backing. Ma Bi himself was a Fourth Realm martial artist. The poor study literature, the rich study martial arts—both brothers had been raised on medicinal soups since childhood, giving them good bone structures. He secretly transmitted to his elder brother, "Judging by his demeanor, he's not ordinary. His breathing is long and steady. He clearly has some martial arts training. He doesn't seem like a cultivator from the mountains. Could he be a direct disciple of Master Shen from the martial world?"

Ma Chuan looked at the blue-shirted swordsman a few more times and said calmly, "It's possible."

Both inside and outside the capital, at court and among the people, attention was drawn to Ma Che. But inside the Ma ancestral hall, these two brothers were recognized as equally accomplished in both literature and martial arts. As a certain grand-uncle had said, the main branch's Ma Yanshan, who was addicted to alcohol and loafed around, was certainly unreliable. It would ultimately fall on these two brothers to shoulder the burden. But they had always kept a low profile, not revealing their strength outside of Wusha Street.

The last youth to arrive at the courtyard had a completely different aura and appearance from Ma Chuan and his brother. His face was like jade, graceful and elegant, with a solemn expression.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "No joy or worry on the brow—that's a true superior. No wonder the Ma clan of Yongjia County has such concentrated literary fortunes. Another one destined to be a 'man in a green gauze cage.' A bright future."

But the youth didn't understand the truth that 'lust is a knife at the head' for a hot-blooded young man.

Chen Ping'an stood up, patted his long robe casually with the ledger, walked down the steps, and in one step appeared between Ma Chuan and Ma Bi. In the next instant, he stood behind the two brothers, grabbed their heads with his hands, and twisted gently. Both heads issued a crack almost simultaneously. Their heads were twisted from front to back. Instantly killed, the two brothers stared wide-eyed at the handsome youth at the courtyard entrance, Ma Che.

The originally composed and elegant youth immediately wet his pants. A stench of urine began to waft at the courtyard entrance.

Ma Che only saw the blue-shirted swordsman turn his head and smile at him, releasing his fingers. The two dead men with snapped necks hung their heads limply.

The blue-shirted man actually smiled as he twisted the two heads back again, making the backs of their heads face the stunned Ma Che at the entrance. "So you're Ma Che. Quite bold, aren't you? Have you decided what official position you want in the Jade Xuan Kingdom court? National Teacher? Minister of Rites? Or maybe become the emperor's son-in-law first? I heard that in your Jade Xuan Kingdom, the son-in-law of the emperor can become an official. The most beloved Princess Yuqing of His Majesty went to burn incense at Jiqing Temple the year before last and happened upon a refined gathering of famous scholars. She fell in love at first sight with the youngest and most eloquent Ma Che. It's a pity you're not into that—you prefer the plump type like cook Yu Qing?"

After all, he was just a boy who had only studied the sages' books. Ma Che's face was now pale, his forehead covered in sweat.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Do you know why Ma Chuan and Ma Bi ended up like this? Answer well. Don't be like that big fool Ma Kuxuan who loves to act smart. If you answer wrong, I'll slowly twist your head around a full circle."

Ma Che began to tremble uncontrollably, a cry in his voice he couldn't hide. "Because they often gathered friends and went to other countries to participate in a hunting game. They liked to pretend to be horse bandits and outlaws, running rampant and doing evil. They went many times and killed many people. How many exactly? I don't know. I really don't know..."

Chen Ping'an asked with a smile, "How do you, a scholar who doesn't care about worldly affairs, know such secrets?"

Ma Che didn't dare hide anything. "Ma Bi had evil intentions and wanted to drag me into it. I refused."

Chen Ping'an said, "You're missing 'with righteous indignation.' You need to rephrase: 'I refused with righteous indignation.' Eh?"

Ma Che, his teeth chattering, had to obediently repeat it.

The youth lamented inwardly—why hadn't anyone come yet to capture this god of death and bring him to justice? Hadn't the Ma family been associating only with the refined, and had connections with immortal masters from the mountains?

Chen Ping'an asked, "Have you killed anyone?"

Ma Che shook his head vigorously.

Chen Ping'an asked again, "Do you want to kill anyone?"

Ma Che shook his head again.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Would a scholarly seed dare to kill?"

Ma Che still shook his head.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "As a future worthy and gentleman of Guanhu Academy, do you think Ma Chuan and Ma Bi deserved to die?"

Ma Che answered without hesitation, "They did many evil things. They deserved to die!"

After all, they were already dead.

But at that moment, the necks of the two corpses creaked. The brothers seemed to be under a spell, unable to move. Their faces turned blue as they turned to look at Ma Che, their eyes filled with a murderous spirit, as if they wanted to flay Ma Che alive. "Ma Che, find a convenient weapon... beat them to death, knock their heads off. You can use a brick, or an inkstone from the room. Maybe a qin string would be better—easier to cut through the skin of the neck. A brick would take a lot of grinding. 'No matter how you get rid of their heads, Ma Che, if you succeed, you can leave here alive. But I'll give you the time it takes for one incense stick to burn. If you're late, then they'll start flaying you. They're martial artists with skills. Of course, you're of the same clan, so they might show mercy and not be able to do it. Then the tables would turn, and you'd have the advantage again. You can gamble."

Ma Che stood frozen.

Chen Ping'an laughed. "An inch of time is an inch of gold. You scholars should be aware of that. Or do you want to bet that Ma Chuan and Ma Bi are as cowardly as you and won't dare to flay a living person?"

Ma Che didn't dare look at those bloodshot, hate-filled eyes. The youth lowered his head, staggered toward the family head's study, climbed the steps, crossed the threshold. The boy, whose limbs had gone weak, now moved quickly. Entering the room, he let his eyes roam. His mind raced. After a quick search, he found several convenient 'weapons.' He would use a heavy inkstone to smash the necks of those two brothers. He also knocked over a vase on a flower stand, intending to use the broken porcelain to cut through the skin and flesh of their necks, fulfilling the agreement to chop off their heads and take their severed heads.

Ma Che held the inkstone in one hand and a piece of porcelain in the other. But when he ran down the steps, he saw the green-clad maids with strange expressions.

That instantly drained Ma Che's courage. He stood at the base of the steps, hands and feet cold.

The blue-shirted swordsman passed by him and laughed. "Do they offend your eyes? Are you afraid they'll gossip later? Easy—why not kill them first? It won't count against your incense-stick time."

Ma Che seemed caught in a heavenly battle. A short sword-wielding maid, cold as ice, stepped forward and flourished her sword, as if reminding this youth—the one the Jade Xuan Kingdom's scholarly circles called the reincarnation of the Literary Star—to try it! Ma Che was startled and abandoned the thought of silencing them. He ran straight toward Ma Chuan and Ma Bi, raising the priceless inkstone high. His hand trembled. The ancient inscriptions on the inkstone seemed to shake along with it.

The two brothers, with veins bulging on their necks, couldn't speak or move. They could only glare at this weak youth with murderous eyes.

Ma Che suddenly burst into tears, muttering, "I can't do it, I can't do it... Don't force me. Don't force me anymore."

Chen Ping'an sat back on the steps, clenched the handful of pine needles in his fist, and lightly punched his chest. His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Brother killing brother—truly shocking and heartbreaking."

A bizarre scene occurred. The maid Qiujun stretched her arm toward the study, grabbed a long sword embedded in the wall, and wielded it. Her body was light as a dragonfly skimming water. In an instant, she was behind Ma Che. She thrust the sword straight, piercing him through the heart.

Ma Che looked down dazedly. Half the sword protruded from his chest. The sharp tip, slightly curved, bore no trace of blood.

The green-clad maid Qiujun's head tilted as if struck on the temple. The woman, who seemed to have committed suicide out of love, fell dead to the ground.

Before her body hit the ground, she cast a deep look at her lover.

Chen Ping'an pressed two fingers together and swiped. The sword through Ma Che flew back along its original path and re-embedded itself in the study wall. The long golden tassel hung downward, docile.

Ma Che seemed ignited with rage and hatred by that sword strike. Finding that he felt no pain despite being pierced, he didn't bother to wonder why. His eyes red, he grabbed Ma Chuan's head and dragged him toward the dead maid. He threw Ma Chuan to the ground, forcing his face to face the 'bitch,' then raised the heavy inkstone carved with ancient sages' words above his head. He slammed it down on Ma Chuan's neck, again and again. The bones soon shattered. The maddened youth, his face twisted, began using the porcelain piece to saw through Ma Chuan's skin and flesh...

Earlier, when the swordsman killed, whether with sword qi or pine needles as miniature flying swords, it was too fast.

But this horrific scene was truly a blunt knife cutting flesh.

Ma Bi watched everything, his heart wrenching. His guts churned. He, who had always considered killing the most enjoyable thing, now feared death even more—and especially this manner of death.

Madness. Everyone seemed to have gone mad.

The youth, splattered with blood, stood up and walked step by step toward the defenseless Ma Bi.

In the courtyard, some green-clad maids had vomited until only bitter bile remained. They looked up one by one, trembling, toward the man on the steps—that blue-shirted swordsman with a focused but calm expression.

At a roadside tavern on Zhelu Mountain, Pei Qian sat down and asked directly, "Why did you call me here?"

Better to deal with business first before catching up.

Liu Xianyang, as always, sat without proper posture, one foot on the bench, shaking a bowl. He laughed. "Calling you here to back us up was Gu Can's idea. If it were up to me, there'd be no need for such a big fuss. Giving the Ma clan of Yongjia County so much face would be too generous. It's not like they have a Flying Ascension cultivator guarding their mansion. Gu Can was worried that your master might lose control inside the Ma mansion, kill too many, and cause a massacre like in those martial arts tales—wiping out the whole family, root and branch, not even sparing the chickens and ducks that lay eggs, maybe even shaking the eggs apart."

Pei Qian laughed silently. How could her master ever act like that? Still, having Liu Xianyang and Gu Can sitting here today made her feel comfortable. She toasted them with a bowl of wine.

Gu Can picked up his wine bowl, took a big gulp, and said, "I never said that."

Then he added, "But I did think it."

Liu Xianyang said, "So Gu Can worried that the two of us couldn't stop Chen Ping'an. If you were there, maybe Chen Ping'an would still care about his image, want to maintain his master dignity and good-guy behavior in front of you, and not go berserk killing."

Pei Qian hesitated for a moment, then spoke honestly, "Then you came to the wrong person. I won't stop my master from doing anything. I'd only help pick up eggs from the chicken coops and duck pens to see if any were missed."

Liu Xianyang was speechless for a moment. He glanced sidelong at Gu Can—this is the helper you found?

Gu Can was thoroughly amused. He hadn't misjudged Pei Qian. She suited his tastes.

On the mountains and in the martial world, walking alone—you could provoke me and I might not care, because Pei Qian was the master's first disciple, from Fallen Mountain.

But if you dared to provoke my master, then Pei Qian was even more the master's first disciple. You could taste the punches she'd been fed back in that bamboo building.

Liu Xianyang smiled. "Little snot-nosed brat, do you know what your biggest strength is?"

Gu Can said, "My biggest strength is knowing I have many weaknesses."

Liu Xianyang swallowed the words that had been on the tip of his tongue along with his wine.

Gu Lingyan, sitting by the fire, couldn't help but chuckle. She had already taken off her boots and silk socks, revealing a pair of jade-like delicate feet, her insteps slightly arched, her feet like crescent moons.

Listening to them chat was incredibly amusing.

Gu Can took a sip of the Panbin immortal brew from Zhelu Mountain. Seeming too lazy to use his mind voice any longer, he spoke slowly, "Everyone who has seen Ma Kuxuan says he's overbearing, reckless in words and deeds, and never considers consequences. But that guy isn't as purely a cultivator of strength without heart as outsiders claim. Ma Kuxuan's achievements today are the result of his genius and scholarly effort."

Liu Xianyang grinned. You little snot-nosed brat and that Ma Kuxuan are cut from the same cloth. Fellow travelers know each other best, so Gu Can's opinion on this is credible.

Gu Can naturally knew what Liu Xianyang meant but didn't care. Liu Xianyang wasn't the type to keep his thoughts hidden—his meaning was written all over his face.

Pei Qian had always been deeply curious about the dynamic between her master, Sect Leader Liu, and Gu Can, even back when she was just 'Little Black Charcoal.' When her master and Gu Can met again after leaving Shujian Lake, could they truly have no grudges? Could they truly not drift apart? Would they have nothing to say to each other even when face to face? If her master wasn't present, would Liu Xianyang and Gu Can—those sworn friends who had shared hardship—would one put on airs and the other clam up? Last time at the Jiuhua Ferry in Qingxing Country, when she accompanied her master and met Gu Can and his group by chance, they went upstairs for a drink. That seemed fine. Now seeing Liu Xianyang and Gu Can drinking at the same table also seemed fine?

Because Pei Qian had appeared, the mountain goddess Song Ji no longer dared to sit alone at a table drinking. She had voluntarily resumed her identity as the tavern keeper and stood behind the counter, waiting for customers to order refills.

Song Ji wasn't stupid. Those two men and one woman—if they were waiting here for Grandmaster Pei Qian, and Pei Qian showed them a posture that even bordered on a junior's etiquette, then they were certainly no ordinary cultivators. Especially when the young gentleman in Confucian robes mentioned Ma Kuxuan with a calm expression as if casually referring to an ordinary qi refiner on the mountain. Song Ji, as a local mountain goddess who often mingled in the marketplace, was most familiar with worldly affairs. While listening to the young Confucian's words, she carefully observed the expressions and eyes of the tall man at the same table and the female cultivator by the fire, trying to deduce more from subtle changes. But the results only made Song Ji increasingly apprehensive. Hearing the name Ma Kuxuan, they drank it like plain water.

Gu Can continued, "Ma Kuxuan has successively and deliberately provoked She Yue, Chun Qing, and Xu Bai—one among the Ten Young in several worlds, and two among the alternate ten. That was Ma Kuxuan's way of probing, trying to determine Chen Ping'an's strength, roughly where his upper and lower limits were. Ma Kuxuan wanted to figure it out and finally reach a conclusion he could be confident about."

Liu Xianyang rubbed his chin. "That fool Ma from Xinghua Lane—why didn't he come compete with me, a fellow countryman?"

Gu Can laughed. "You didn't even make the young ten list of Precious Vase Continent, let alone several worlds. Why would he look for you?"

Liu Xianyang angrily said, "If I hadn't just turned forty-one and missed the age limit for that list, would I not be on it? Wouldn't the number one have the surname Liu!"

Gu Can said, "If you have the guts, don't direct it at me. The one who compiled that list was Tian Wan of Zhengyang Mountain's Zhuyu Peak. Go reason with her."

Back then, the scheming Zou Zi had selected the Ten Young and Alternate Ten across several worlds. Each list had an eleventh person, so twenty-two names total.

Ning Yao, Fei Ran, and Cao Ci were all among the Ten Young. The last Hidden Officer of the Sword Qi Great Wall was at the bottom.

At that time, the list didn't give Chen Ping'an's name, only introduced the young Hidden Officer's realm: Nascent Soul sword cultivator, Peak martial artist.

That made the young Hidden Officer, shrouded in mystery, somewhat like a gatekeeper—as if anyone who could beat Eleven Chen had the strength to be on the list.

Among the Alternate Ten were Ma Kuxuan of True Martial Mountain in Precious Vase Continent, Xu Bai of Middle Earth Divine Continent, and Chun Qing of Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven.

Earlier, when Ma Kuxuan had troubled She Yue, it wasn't really a magical duel, because She Yue had voluntarily conceded. In terms of escape arts, She Yue was indeed not weak.

But Xu Bai wasn't so lucky. Even though he didn't want to conflict with Ma Kuxuan at all, Ma Kuxuan didn't give Xu Bai a chance to avoid him.

Among the three, only Chun Qing had seriously sparred with Ma Kuxuan. And Ma Kuxuan had also taken that duel most seriously, because Chun Qing, the only direct disciple of the Green God Mountain's wife, had a path of cultivation most similar to Chen Ping'an.

After all, in her travels through Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven, she had been taught boxing by as many as four martial arts grandmasters who had reached the Peak realm.

In fact, in that duel, Ma Kuxuan had suppressed Chun Qing thoroughly from start to finish. In the end, he gave this defeated opponent a verdict that wasn't quite a verdict.

He roughly 'kindly advised' Chun Qing to stop learning boxing in the future—she wasn't even fit to hold Chen Ping'an's shoes. She should focus on dao cultivation.

These casual words made Song Ji lower her head lower and lower.

Because she finally confirmed the shocking identities of those two men.

The second sect leader of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect, Sword Immortal Liu Xianyang. Gu Can of Nilpotent Alley in the Bead Grotto-Heaven, the direct disciple of Zheng Juzhong of White Emperor City.

They were fellow countrymen of Ma Kuxuan, who was from Xinghua Lane.

That was it.

Only such favored sons of heaven could mention Ma Kuxuan so calmly. That indifference, emanating from their bones, couldn't be faked. They didn't need to pretend to be nonchalant.

Liu Xianyang casually asked, "You've fought alongside both of them. In your opinion, what level are Chun Qing and Xu Bai?"

Gu Can took a sip of wine. "Xu Bai's weakness is one-on-one combat—his heart isn't ruthless. So his realm should be considered one level lower. His strength lies in strategy. Leading generals and commanding troops—Xu Bai is naturally good at that. On a battlefield, Xu Bai directing troops becomes exceptionally ruthless. One-on-one, if Xu Bai faces me, he's dead for sure."

"Chun Qing's learning is eclectic. Her talent is indeed good. Among the Ten Young and Alternate Ten, she's the youngest; there's a reason for that. She's only in her twenties now. As a pure martial artist, after the battle in the Wild Lands, she'll likely break through the Traveling Realm bottleneck soon. Her fist techniques and combat skills are excellent. She's proficient in eighteen types of weapons. As a qi refiner, she's already at the Nascent Soul bottleneck. She's skilled in the five elements, geomancy, thunder magic, talismans, mechanisms, formations, planchette, summoning, subjugating ghosts and gods, hunting, assassination, concealment, and escape. She's excellent in all of them, and she still has room to grow. Her advantage should become apparent after she reaches the Flying Ascension realm. Chun Qing will likely become a strong offensive and defensive Flying Ascension cultivator. Her dao achievements will be higher than the wild cultivator Qing Bi, similar to my master's junior sister Han Qiaose from White Emperor City. I estimate that Fire Dragon Zhenren of Northern Ju Luzhou will be the limit of Chun Qing's future dao height. If Chun Qing also had a sword cultivator identity, you could completely consider her a Chen Ping'an from Old Porcelain Mountain."

Liu Xianyang couldn't help but laugh. If it weren't for that last, extremely derogatory evaluation, I might have believed you, Gu Can.

What the little snot-nosed brat implied was that Chun Qing indeed resembled Chen Ping'an, but relative to the 'original,' she was merely a crudely fired imitation. Back in their hometown, she would be smashed and thrown onto Old Porcelain Mountain.

Earlier, when Chen Ping'an challenged Zhengyang Mountain, Ma Kuxuan had actually been watching nearby. Yu Shiwu even said that was Ma Kuxuan's only opportunity.

Later, when news of Chen Ping'an's inscription on the city wall reached the Cosmic Dust World, it made Ma Kuxuan even more uncertain about his depth.

Liu Xianyang asked curiously, "Did you plant any agents in the Ma mansion of Yongjia County?"

"Since I had nothing better to do, I needed to find something to occupy myself."

Gu Can nodded. "I was worried about alerting them, so I didn't plant too many. In total, I only inserted three nails. One was rooted out a few years ago—an old Viewing Lake realm cultivator whose spirit was decaying. He had let some traces slip, and Shen Ke personally eliminated him and destroyed the evidence. As per our agreement, his two direct disciples have now made their fortunes. I found each of them a dao teacher, both unregistered retainers of White Emperor City. So I even suspect that old man might have been seeking death, because according to the terms I had with him, if he died in the Ma family, his disciples would benefit the most. Next time I do business with anyone, I'll have to patch that loophole."

"Another nail was completely marginalized. Earlier, he worked at the Ma family's immortal inn and did reasonably well, but never sent any useful information. Now he manages a small piece of the Ma family's private bank and exchange business in the mortal world. The last one is also negligible. She's not a qi refiner, which is why she survived. It has nothing to do with her cleverness. She's now just a concubine of a Ma clan member, but she can't even enter through the side gate. She's kept outside, blowing pillow talk—she can extract a few worthless sentences. But in a few years, she'll lose her looks and favor, and be useless."

Gu Can shook his head at himself. "Even if the nails are buried deep and still in place, given the Ma family's current wealth and influence, stepping on these few nails on the ground probably wouldn't even hurt. Since I'm not personally watching, they're all too stupid."

By the counter, Song Ji listened in terror, her face losing color. Heavens above, please use your mind voices!

Now she was worried that she might also end up 'eliminated and the evidence destroyed.'

You drink my tavern's wine, and you're going to give me a last meal?

You're bullying me too much.

Pei Qian, with seeming intent, glanced at the mountain goddess. The mental landscapes of mountain and river deities were rather dull and uniform—mostly shrines and golden statues shrouded in incense smoke. Differences were only in the amount of incense, the height and purity of the golden statues. As for the city gods of various ranks, probably due to the separation of yin and yang and the different paths of light and darkness, even a lowliest county city god was something Pei Qian couldn't see clearly inside.

Liu Xianyang listened to Gu Can's plans and was greatly disappointed. "That's it?"

Gu Can sneered. "What else?"

Planting agents, training death warriors, and having to guard against double agents—did you think it was simple?

Liu Xianyang said impatiently, "I thought the nails you threw in would at least have chairs to sit on in the Ma ancestral hall."

Gu Can said, "Why don't you say that Ma Yan and Qin Zheng are agents I planted beside Ma Kuxuan?"

Liu Xianyang's eyes lit up, and he said without thinking, "Gu Can, as we talk, you're finally getting clever. I think this method is really good and feasible. You should work in that direction from now on."

Gu Can directly spat at Liu Xianyang. Liu Xianyang tilted his head to dodge it. Instead of getting angry, he quickly finished his wine, raised the empty bowl, and continued provoking Gu Can. "Good hidden weapon! Do it again! Let's see if I can collect a full bowl, then tip my head back and drink it all. That would be a bit disgusting, wouldn't it, Miss Gu?"

Pei Qian grinned.

Gu Lingyan, sitting alone by the fire, struggled for a moment, then couldn't help but burst out laughing. "As long as my young master has no objection, I certainly don't mind!"

Gu Can sneered. "Those Ma clan kids are all empty-headed scoundrels with no substance. They don't even have the qualifications to be chess pieces. You, 'Liu the Boor Who Only Practices Sword,' tell me: think with your brain—how am I, someone not even in Precious Vase Continent, supposed to handle this?"

Liu Xianyang said with righteous indignation, "I remind you to speak nicely to me! If I'm in a bad mood, I might let something slip to Chen Ping'an about these shady dealings."

Gu Can was afraid of Chen Ping'an, and Chen Ping'an was afraid of him. That's called 'like brine curdling tofu—one thing subdues another.'

I, Uncle Liu, don't need to argue with a little snot-nosed brat. I'm two realms above him.

Liu Xianyang stood up lazily. "We've had our drink. Time to get down to business."

Gu Can didn't stand up. He frowned. "Go where? Do what?"

Liu Xianyang rolled his eyes. "You talk too much. As always, learn from Chen Ping'an: just follow behind Uncle Liu and eat and drink well."

Gu Can shook his head. "If you don't make it clear, I'm staying here."

Damn it. If I make a mistake, Chen Ping'an won't say anything to you, but what about me?

Earlier at Fallen Mountain, I kindly wanted to go to Tongye Continent to help. Do you know what he said? He just lectured me—'Too idle, immortal?'?

Liu Xianyang's aura changed completely. He said calmly, "You three go to the capital's City God Temple. I'll go to the Jade Xuan Kingdom's imperial palace."

Pei Qian had already stood up, holding her green bamboo staff. "Sect Leader Liu, I'd like to go to the Imperial Observatory alone."

Liu Xianyang thought for a moment, then nodded. "Of course. Remember to change your appearance. If you have to act, don't hesitate. If anything happens, I'll take responsibility in front of your master."

When Gu Can stood up, Gu Lingyan, whose real name was Zi Wumeng, quickly put on her socks and shoes and stood up.

Liu Xianyang looked at the mountain goddess. "What do you say?"

Song Ji gritted her teeth. "The tavern is closed today. No customers came."

Liu Xianyang asked, "What if the Zen Mountain God personally questions you?"

Song Ji was silent. She really couldn't make any guarantees. She was, after all, a minor mountain goddess under someone else's authority. Zen Mountain was under the direct jurisdiction of Deer Horn Mountain.

Liu Xianyang smiled. "If that happens, just tell the truth. Remember to add one thing: if Deer Horn Mountain dares to give you any trouble, I'll turn the Mountain God's Mansion into a second Zhengyang Mountain's First Line Peak."

Liu Xianyang put on his bamboo hat but didn't hurry. He thought for a moment and said slowly, "Minor adjustment: Gu Can goes to the imperial palace, Pei Qian to the Capital City God Temple, Gu Lingyan to the Imperial Observatory. I'll take the hard job and make a long trip."

Gu Can said, "You're not suitable. Let me do it instead."

Liu Xianyang reached out and pressed Gu Can's head, looking ahead, his smile bright. "That's not how it works. Among the three of us, you're the youngest."

Gu Can reached up and slapped Liu Xianyang's hand away, but didn't say anything. He had essentially agreed to Liu Xianyang's proposal.

The wine flag slanted in the rain. Outside, rain was still pouring, the road muddy and impassable.

Liu Xianyang said softly, "Gu Can, even if a friend has many bad habits, he's still a friend."

"But there's one thing where Chen Ping'an and I are quite different: I only advise a friend once. If he doesn't listen, that's it."

"Have you always wanted to ask me what I would have done if I had gone to Shujian Lake first? I'll tell you the truth: I would have advised you to stop. If you didn't listen, I would have stepped far back from Shujian Lake, waited for news of your death, then avenged you by killing the one who killed you. That's all."

Gu Can smiled. "That's already much better than one of the answers I imagined."

Liu Xianyang adjusted his bamboo hat and smiled. "Little snot-nosed brat, the road is still long. No matter what achievements we three make in the future, you're always the youngest. Whether it's a gain or a loss remains to be seen. I only ask you to guarantee one thing: don't provoke me. Not that I would find it difficult—I wouldn't find it difficult at all. The one who would find it difficult is Chen Ping'an. Also, if you and Chen Ping'an don't get along, I'll definitely help him. If Chen Ping'an and I have a conflict, you'll definitely help him. That just makes things simple. Can you understand?"

Gu Can nodded. "I understand, and I accept."

Liu Xianyang draped a straw cape over himself, then burst through the curtain of rain, transforming into a rainbow as he sped away.

Gu Lingyan asked curiously, "Where is he going?"

Gu Can put on a bamboo hat and tied his straw cape, silent.

Pei Qian helped answer, "True Martial Mountain's Ancestral Hall."

Gu Lingyan sighed softly, her emotions complex. She had never been able to understand how people with such different personalities as Gu Can, Chen Ping'an, and Liu Xianyang could become friends and remain friends.

No wonder Gu Can said it was unsuitable. After all, Liu Xianyang was the current sect leader of Dragon Spring Sword Sect. And the Snow Wind Temple, which was like the Dragon Spring Sword Sect's maternal family, and True Martial Mountain were both military ancestor halls of Precious Vase Continent.

Gu Can spoke. "Pei Qian, you don't actually know the real Chen Ping'an. Since childhood, I've both been close to him and feared him. So in Liu Xianyang's eyes, I seem to listen to everything he says."

For some reason, just hearing this plain, everyday tone made Gu Lingyan's hair stand on end.

It was far more unsettling than sitting at the same table with that young Hidden Officer.

Pei Qian wanted to say something but ultimately didn't ask.

No matter what Gu Can and Liu Xianyang's eyes saw in her master, her master was still her master.

"Will Fallen Mountain have a reflection?"

Gu Can first said this strange remark, then smiled brightly. "In the end, it doesn't matter. Chen Ping'an is just Chen Ping'an."

Somewhere in the Ma mansion, an elderly, decrepit old man sat under the eaves of a shabby house. Back in his hometown, he had been a good-for-nothing. Over the years, he had followed the family to this place without benefiting much. Now, leaning on his walking stick, he was telling stories of their hometown to a young boy beside him. He said that back then, at the Golden Goose Kiln where the family had started its fortune, he had been an expert at firing porcelain, and had learned many real skills from a young master surnamed Chen from Nilpotent Alley.

The boy smiled and said, "Expertise makes the teacher." The old man nodded, said that was true. He regretted not having studied harder in his youth instead of skipping school.

The old man slowly turned his head and looked at a young man who seemed to be sheltering from the rain under his eaves. Looking at the man's profile, the old man squinted and murmured, "Young man, are you Chen Quan's son?"

That young man, wearing a golden crown and a green gauze dharma robe, turned his head and asked with a smile, "How did you know, old sir?"

The old man laughed. "You don't look like him, but you resemble him very much. My grandson often tells me phrases from books—yes, 'bearing.'"

Chen Ping'an looked at the boy and nodded. "Though a family that accumulates good deeds may be poor, their descendants will surely prosper late in life."

The old man asked, "Why have you come to a place like this?"

There were some things from the past that, the more he thought about them, the more they seemed eerily sinister. At the time, the old man had been young and vigorous, and he had the surname Ma, so he hadn't dared to say anything. Over the years, he had kept it bottled inside. It wasn't that it was painful, just a little uncomfortable. Since there were immortals riding clouds in the capital of the Jade Xuan Kingdom, and several City God Temples that were said to settle accounts after death, the old man was a bit worried.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "I'll speak directly, old sir, so don't be angry. I've walked around the Ma mansion—over a hundred people, three adjoining mansions—and this is the only clean place where I can set foot without soiling my shoes."

The old man sighed. This kind of conversation was hard to respond to.

The boy asked, "Are you a cultivator?"

Chen Ping'an said, "You could say that."

The boy asked in confusion, "What are you doing here?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Revisiting old stories. I've come to settle an old debt."

The boy wanted to ask more, but the old man coughed a few times. The boy quickly patted his grandfather's back.

Chen Ping'an asked with a smile, "Do you like watching plays or listening to storytelling?"

The boy, cleanly dressed, nodded. "Both, but not often."

"Other people's stories, plays like life—all joys and sorrows are just words on paper. Don't take them too seriously. Watch them and forget."

Chen Ping'an then reached out and lightly touched the boy's forehead from afar. It was as if the boy's heavenly eye opened, and he was transported into a series of landscape paintings.

A female chivalrous warrior, Qiujun, had left her prestigious martial arts sect and traveled the martial world for years with her sword. One evening, passing by a dilapidated shrine, she had experienced many supernatural tales and wasn't concerned. She took shelter there, finding on the incense table an old covenant. The woman's vows were still bright in color, but the man's vows of eternal love had faded. Qiujun felt great hatred. She hated heartless men most of all. Memorizing the names and origins of the two swearers, she left the shrine. She found the resting place of the poor woman who had died vomiting blood. Qiujun stood by the coffin, promising to avenge her by bringing the head of the faithless man. Then she rode day and night, gathering information, heading straight for the capital. She found the brightly lit, grand mansion. The man had passed the imperial exams and just married the legitimate daughter of a Grand Secretary. On the bustling street, Qiujun drew her sword, leaped onto her horse, charged through several gates of the mansion, and reached the noisy wedding hall filled with state officials and nobles. She leaned down expertly and cut off the groom's head with one sword stroke. Then she used her sword tip to lift the bride's red veil and covered the bloody head. She dismounted, wrapped the head casually, tucked it under her arm, remounted, and galloped away. She returned to the resting place, uncovered the head, and threw it to the ground. The groom's head, still staring, rolled on the ground. When Qiujun recognized the man's face, she was thunderstruck. She slapped the coffin open and looked inside. Lying there was the very woman she had glimpsed at the wedding. Head splitting with pain, Qiujun crouched, holding her head. The next moment, before she could recover, she found herself kneeling in the hall. Through the gap in her red veil, she saw her beloved, with whom she had just married and would soon enter the bridal chamber. Her father was a Grand Secretary. She had captured a son-in-law through the imperial exams. Under the moonlight, he had whispered sweet words. He said that in his hometown, there was a lovesick woman who had been harassing him for years. Her family was tyrannical in the local area and wanted him to marry into it. What could he do? She believed him and comforted him—such a crazy woman; as the tree is bent, so the twig is twisted; utterly devoid of upbringing. Her good sir need not pay any attention... Behind her came a clamor of startled shouts. She quickly turned and lifted her veil. A valiant knight charged in on horseback, unstoppable. The burly knight, with a bushy beard and wild hair, drew his blade, leaned down without a word, and cut off the head of her husband beside her. The knight wheeled his horse, left in a hurry, and shouted one phrase: "The heartless thief has been killed."

In a resplendent prince's mansion, Ma Bi, recently enfeoffed as a duke for military merit and the youngest non-imperial duke of the kingdom, finished his sword practice on the training ground. He took off his armor and tossed it to the family retainers beside him—all martial arts grandmasters from the martial world. They were nominally imperial retainers but in reality were the court's hounds. Ma Bi walked toward his residence. Every servant and maid he encountered knelt prostrate. He reached a little bridge over flowing water. His elder brother stood on a white-jade bridge shaped like a rainbow, back to him, holding a porcelain jar filled with fish fodder, scattering it into the pond. The fat koi fish swirled and leaped. Ma Bi stepped onto the stone bridge, shouted a cheerful greeting to his elder brother, and intended to tell this frail, sickly brother that he would soon secure him an official post—a clean, noble position in the Court of State Ceremonial. His Majesty had already approved. But in an instant, Ma Bi's scalp went numb. The duke, who had seen countless deaths in his military career, stopped in his tracks, not daring to step forward. His elder brother slowly turned his head. Blood seeped from all seven orifices, a horrifying sight. His lips moved slightly, as if maggots writhed within, like the fish beneath the bridge. His elder brother, now a walking corpse, beckoned to Ma Bi. "You've come too."

A bridge built of white bones piled high.

Ma Bi's brother, Ma Chuan, had his lower body dissolved into the dense pile of corpses. Only his head and half a torso slowly 'swam' toward Ma Bi, uttering garbled words, maggots falling from his mouth. A fair, tender arm wrapped around Ma Bi's neck from behind, and a familiar yet strange, soft voice whispered, "Little brother-in-law, time for bed."

A peaceful rural village with wisps of cooking smoke. Two brothers lived harmoniously, each with a family. One was a mountain peddler, the other a fisherman. They were comfortably well-off. Their children had reached the age for schooling. The sky was painted with fiery clouds like burning brocade. Occasionally, during market fairs in the county town, their wives, thrifty housewives, would muster the courage to sneak a touch of the smooth silk under the disdainful gaze of the cloth shop owner, but always claimed it was too expensive and didn't buy. The two brothers had agreed to drink together today, watching their children play and frolic. Their wives were busy in the kitchen. Ma Chuan and Ma Bi chatted about recent harvests. Suddenly, the sound of urgent hoofbeats shattered the rural tranquility. An arrow streaked through the air and embedded itself in Ma Chuan's cheek, piercing through his mouth. Ma Bi stared wide-eyed. A group of magnificently armored young men rode in, nearly all carrying sabers and bows. Among them was a burly brute holding a spear, hanging at the rear, coldly watching the unarmed Ma Bi.

Cheers erupted. The archer cursed with a laugh, picked another arrow from his quiver, drew his bow to a full moon, and released. Another powerful arrow punched through Ma Chuan's neck. The terrible force yanked the strong countryman backward. He fell onto his back, a pool of blood slowly spreading. The noble scion's long bow hummed. He looked at the corpse of the peasant and nodded in apparent satisfaction.

Ma Bi sat frozen on the bench, staring at the familiar face on horseback. Wasn't it just his brother Ma Chuan, but looking a few years younger? Why did his brother want to kill him?

Another rider galloped up, followed by a few elite attendants. He glanced at the two women who had run out from the kitchen and laughed. "Can't even be called mediocre. Kill them."

This squat, armor-clad young aristocrat, looking like a ruler of a small kingdom, raised his iron spear and pointed at the man under the eaves. "This one is mine. The rest of you do as you please."

His mount was magnificent. With a skilled charge, the young knight thrust his spear through Ma Bi's head. A twist of the wrist threw the corpse aside.

Moments before dying, Ma Bi only felt confusion. How could the bandit on horseback have his own face? And he felt reluctance—after he died, what would happen to his wife, his children?

A peal of thunder jolted Ma Bi awake. He shook his head and sat up, wiping his sweaty brow. It was just a dream. But this nightmare was too strange and unnerving.

Outside, rain poured in soybean-sized drops. Cries came from outside. Ma Bi quickly threw on his clothes and stood up. Torches lit up the entire mansion. A group of agile figures in night clothes charged in. Blades glinted. Without asking questions, they killed on sight. The women of the household suffered fates worse than death. White-haired Ma Bi's heart ached with grief. How could the young die before the old? Why? Why? The old man turned abruptly. At the embroidered tower, a slender, disheveled maiden, still unwed, fell from the building like a falling leaf.

Ma Chuan sat gloomily in a corner of the kang, sighing endlessly. Outside it was bitterly cold, snow season. He wrapped his old fur robe tighter around himself. The house was bare of furniture. A dim, faintly yellow oil lamp flickered on the table. A woman mended torn clothes under the lamp. There were some uncommonly sumptuous dishes on the table, inconsistent with their poor household. They had been earned by his wife, who worked as an embroiderer for a wealthy family. The masters often feasted local officials and wealthy gentry, and leftovers were given to her to bring home. Ma Chuan, at least a boy scholar and a tutor, had high pride and couldn't stomach such charity. Besides... he glanced coldly at the woman. Besides, although nominally she was an embroiderer for that grand household, in truth she was with that decrepit old man in his sixties. She was dirty. And there were even uglier gossip among the neighbors—it was said that place could almost be a free brothel. Catching the man's gaze, the woman looked up, bit her lip, and lowered her head again in silence.

Outside, snow and wind raged. The fish and meat dishes on the table had long gone cold. The woman named Qiujun turned her head. Tears slid down her cheeks. Her heart seemed even colder.

She turned her back to the man, wiped her tears with her sleeve, and forced herself to speak softly. "Husband, Master Zhao wants to invite you to be a private tutor. If you don't want to, I'll refuse him tomorrow."

Ma Chuan's eyes brightened. He coughed a few times, moved to the edge of the kang, lowered his feet into a pair of cotton shoes as cold as ice picks. He shivered and spoke slowly. "Either pass the imperial examinations to glorify the ancestors, or open a school to teach and dispel doubts—both are proper occupations for us scholars. By the way, Qiujun, did Master Zhao mention the salary?"

In a low voice, she said, "Eight silver coins a month. During festivals, there are extra red packets."

Ma Chuan's face almost twisted with joy, but he kept his voice steady. He hummed softly. "Not bad. Just about enough."

He sat at the table, looking at the cold fish and meat. He sighed. "I wonder how my younger brother, who loved martial arts since childhood, is doing in the border army. If he can get an official post, it wouldn't shame our ancestors."

The woman lowered her eyes. Remembering some past event, she blushed slightly. Under the lamp, her face took on a radiant glow.

Ma Chuan chewed the hard-to-swallow fish, still finding it delicious. Suddenly, he laughed. "Hey, our family name is the royal surname. Out there, no matter who we meet, we don't have to say 'no need for the honor.'"

The current Emperor, Ma Che, was recognized as a peace-time ruler. Diligent in governing in his youth, he had begun to indulge in pleasure in middle age. But the civil and military officials of the kingdom were all talented. Not long ago, a great victory on the frontier prompted the Emperor to ennoble a meritorious general as a duke and bestow upon a young woman the title of female top scholar. With no external threats and no internal troubles, he became increasingly debauched. Apart from the Empress, who was close to his age and merely a decoration, all the palace concubines were mature women since his early reign. This day, the Empress summoned a group of titled ladies. The Emperor, who had been waiting, lifted the curtain with a jade-handled duster and saw those middle-aged beauties of various figures. The only exception was the female top scholar. The Emperor smiled and said, "Ladies, you may undress." The women were not unfamiliar with this—some forced smiles, some flirted. But the young girl stared at the Emperor in utter disbelief, her face crimson. Yet, inexplicably, she couldn't speak. In fury and grief, she pointed at the Emperor and then at herself, making meaningless sounds. The Emperor was intrigued, laughed heartily, and strode toward the bright-faced girl. He would make an exception for her today. After their union, when the middle-aged Emperor fell asleep, the girl grabbed his neck and strangled him to death. Then she hanged herself.

Death is like a deep sleep. Emperor Ma Che suddenly woke with a start. He had a mirror in his hand, but he saw a young girl's face. Terrified, he threw the mirror to the ground. The next moment, she was in the palace. Dazed, she looked around. Besides the aged, distant Empress, there were a group of titled ladies with varied expressions. The Emperor—or rather, the female top scholar—watched helplessly as the curtain was lifted by a duster.

At the Ma mansion of Yongjia County, Ma Yan supported Qin Zheng as they returned to their quarters. They saw an old woman waiting at the door. The couple felt a little reassured.

Ma Yan said softly, "Madam Pu, why didn't you stop that man's rampage? Even three sword transmissions were intercepted by that fiend."

The old woman transmitted her voice with a smile. "You don't know, family head, but I had prepared for this. I actually sent six secret letters—one obvious, one hidden. The intercepted ones were only the obvious sword transmissions."

Ma Yan immediately showed joy and let out a great sigh of relief. But Qin Zheng quickly glanced at the old woman named Pu Liu without saying anything.

The old woman's face darkened. She snorted coldly. "Madam Qin, if I had known earlier that the enemy the Ma clan had provoked was that man, I would have left the Jade Xuan Kingdom long ago! Not even Precious Vase Continent would be safe!"

Qin Zheng apologized and took out a set of keys she always carried. She had Ma Yan open the secret chamber. They walked down the steps. The walls were embedded with luminous pearls for light, layered with restrictions. Finally, they reached a hidden place of natural beauty. Qin Zheng first applied a plaster bought from the Yang Family Pharmacy. Her soul immediately stabilized, and the piercing pain vanished. Then she had the old woman use a mountain art to reattach the severed wrist. In an instant, new flesh grew over the bone visible to the naked eye, though the scar remained prominent. Qin Zheng took courage and twisted her wrist. She let out a long breath. Ma Yan asked tremulously, "That fiend spoke arrogantly from the start—said he would kill us forty times. Now he neither kills nor lets us go. What does he want?"

The old woman sighed. "Peak cultivators at the mountain summits have merciless dao and inscrutable heavenly minds."

Ma Yan complained, "Madam Pu, you are a Land Immortal with accomplished cultivation. Even you are helpless against this man?"

The old woman smiled bitterly. "In mountain cultivation, each realm is a different mountain. Even if I am in the Jade Pure realm, I dare not call myself 'mountain peak.' At most, I've only reached the mountainside. The higher one climbs, the farther from heaven one knows. That man surnamed Chen is at least a Nascent Soul sword immortal. Fighting a sword cultivator of the same realm—where would I have any chance of victory?"

Ma Yan cursed Shen Ke and the like to steady his nerves. He tentatively asked, "Madam Pu, Shen Ke has already fled. What about Yu Qing in the kitchen? She's a Golden Body martial artist. Is she also useless now?"

The old woman scoffed. "These martial boors who only chase fame are unreliable. Once they hear the name Sword Immortal Chen, the men shrink, and the women aren't much better."

Ma Yan asked, "What about Master Jiang Gui? And Zhong Chang, whom you yourself called deeply hidden? They are both Golden Core Earth Immortals with varied skills. Eating and drinking at our expense for so many years—can't they even show some effort when trouble comes?"

The old woman shook her head. "..."

Qin Zheng suddenly asked, "Pu Liu, did you really send out a sword transmission?"

The old woman smiled. "Of course. At this point, why would I claim credit? What would be the point? Right, Madam Qin?"

Ma Yan muttered, "Good, good. All the way here, I remembered some words from my son Yanshan over the years. I finally tasted their meaning. He said that with a family business as big as ours, when we encounter difficulties, it's not money or power but righteousness that can save us, the true protective charm. The Emperor, Deer Horn Mountain, and the City God Temple—once these three parties know what's happening here, they don't even have to favor us. They just need to act impartially. That bastard from Nilpotent Alley, relying on his identity and realm, is arrogant and overconfident. He thinks he's infallible. What does he think he is? If it weren't for his ancestor's blessing and a string of lucky breaks, how could he have achieved what he has? Bah..."

The old woman pulled a copper coin from her sleeve and smiled. "Family Head, Madam Qin, besides this coin I just got from the market, I have nothing left. My money pouch is empty and jingling. If you want me to continue risking my life for the Ma family, you'll have to show some appreciation."

That Sword Immortal Chen, when robbing me, insisted on stuffing a copper coin into my hand.

Qin Zheng stood up. "Pu Liu, you've already seen him?!"

The old woman chuckled deeply. "As expected, Madam Qin is sharper. This coin was indeed a gift from Sword Immortal Chen."

Qin Zheng asked, "So the claim of successfully sending a sword transmission was also a trick?"

The old woman's expression was complicated. She shook her head. "It was indeed sent. But not by me—by Sword Immortal Chen himself. Right in front of my eyes, a thousand times true."

As for what he was thinking, heaven knows.

She wouldn't bother wasting her brain on that.

Having escaped that fiery execution, she had already knocked her head on the ground several times, grateful, in front of that blue-shirted Sword Immortal.

The old woman opened her palm and smiled. "Sword Immortal Chen has spoken: you two adulterous dogs can only have one live. And you must kill the other with your own hands. Couples are birds in the same forest—when disaster strikes, each flies alone. Ma Yan, Qin Zheng, follow the old rule: discuss it well and decide who lives and who dies."

The secret immortal's dwelling instantly transformed into the old ancestral home of Xinghua Lane. Outside, rain poured.

Just like many years ago, when this young couple had secretly discussed how to kill that Master Chen of the family's dragon kiln.

The old woman Pu Liu seemed to transform into the old woman Ma Lanhua, who had tried to stop her son and daughter-in-law from doing such things.

The old woman's face was full of sorrow. She repeated that doing such harmful deeds would bring retribution.

Qin Zheng sneered. "One lives? How? And how long can they live?"

Ma Yan snapped awake, his eyes hardening. "Who believes such nonsense?"

The side door slowly opened. The child Ma Kuxuan, who had been eavesdropping, did not emerge.

Instead, a blue-shirted figure in a long gown stepped out. Chen Ping'an smiled. "I like it when you're this stupid."

The old woman blocking the doorway flickered between Pu Liu's form and Ma Lanhua's face. From her sleeve, she pulled out two white silk ribbons and repeated, "Self-inflicted suffering cannot be avoided."

Muttering, the old woman wrapped the two ribbons around the 'young couple's' necks, tied a knot, and threw the other ends high, as if looping over invisible beams. She tied them off. Ma Yan and Qin Zheng grabbed the ribbons with their hands, forced to stand on tiptoe. But even so, their boots hovered above the ground—neither more nor less, precisely a foot off the ground. That meant that for one to live, the other had to die.

From the look of it, survival depended on who was stronger, who could stay on their feet.

Chen Ping'an tucked his hands into his sleeves, squinting. "First method."