Chapter 1088: That Nest of Ants All Share the Same Surname

Chapter 1088: That Nest of Ants All Share the Same Surname

During the heavy rains of the Clear and Bright Festival, the sons and daughters of officials, noble houses, and middle-class families mostly rode in carriages out of the city to sweep graves and pay respects to their ancestors. Although they were sweeping tombs for the departed, no one wore a sorrowful expression. Dressed in bright attire, each carried fine wine and delicacies, chatting and laughing loudly along the way, drinking heartily—it was more like an outing. No wonder literati from other countries often used this in their notes to mock the people of the Yuxuan Kingdom's capital, saying the custom of valuing the living over the dead and favoring the present over the afterlife had long existed.

Pei Qian was going to the Capital City God Temple, which was some distance from the imperial palace and the Astronomical Bureau. She took leave of Gu Can and Gu Lingyan briefly, then secretly infiltrated the Yuxuan Kingdom's capital first.

The defenses of a small country, whether by mountain or secular means, were hardly strict against a rare boundary martial artist—it could be said that they leaked wind from all sides.

Gu Can, however, took Gu Lingyan to the city gate, handed over their travel documents, and chose to walk into the capital in a proper and orderly manner.

Gu Lingyan, wearing a hooded veil, covered her mouth and laughed. "Letting me go to the Astronomical Bureau—Liu Xianyang is at ease, and so are you?"

Gu Can said, "Of course Liu Xianyang isn't at ease with you, but he doesn't care about that. He only cares about me, and then tells me to keep you in line."

As for whether Gu Can was uneasy about her—he was very much at ease. If she did anything wrong, he would settle accounts according to the rules.

Gu Lingyan smiled. "He's really interesting."

Gu Can said, "I told you at the wine shop that Liu Xianyang has always relied on his instincts. If you think that's an insult, then there's something wrong with your head."

Gu Lingyan curled her lips.

Gu Can reminded her, "After you enter the Astronomical Bureau, conceal yourself and wait for the right moment. When you have nothing to do, wander around the secret libraries of the Calculation Bureau and the Testing Bureau. Besides drawing an accurate topographic map, mark all buildings and specialized instruments, as well as the work the various officials are busy with, on this map. Try not to miss anything. Walk, look, and draw as you go. Remember to copy some secret books and archives from the old dynasty. Focus on records of the Xue Clan of Yuxuan Kingdom's history—sacrifices, marriages, funerals, auspicious signs, and disasters—as well as copies of the Shangli and Donggong calendars from various generations. The more, the better. I'll need them later."

Chen Ping'an was currently pursuing some "realm," and Gu Can had roughly guessed a bit of the clue.

Gu Lingyan tentatively asked, "These are all trivial matters, not difficult at all. But how should I determine whether 'something is happening' or 'nothing is happening'?"

Gu Can glanced at the veiled female cultivator, and Gu Lingyan immediately changed her tune. "I'll figure it out."

The two parted ways, and Gu Lingyan slowly performed a curtsy. "Your servant wishes the young master a smooth journey."

Gu Can said, "When helping, be careful not to cause trouble."

Gu Lingyan smiled sweetly. "Your servant understands."

Probably because this matter involved Chen Ping'an, he was willing to remind her a few more times.

Gu Can said, "You don't need to be too reserved. Raising a turtle in a jar—no matter how big it gets, it's still limited."

Gu Lingyan covered her mouth and giggled. Indeed, this small capital was a classic case of shallow water but many turtles.

She walked into a secluded alley, pinched a hand seal to conceal her traces, and swaggered into the Astronomical Bureau. The few mountain-and-water taboos were like a child playing at building a pass with mud. At the same time, she sent her yin spirit out on a distant journey, then used a yang spirit external incarnation to secretly select a tall building. The yin spirit was responsible for drawing a detailed map of the Astronomical Bureau, while the yang spirit went to "copy" books and archives. Her true body wandered through the bureau as if sightseeing.

Along the way, she encountered several groups of Astronomical Bureau officials who were, as per custom, "hereditary and inheriting their fathers' positions." Gu Lingyan, feeling playful, pulled out several rare "family heirloom" talismans from her sleeve. She flicked her finger, and the talismans turned ethereal, sticking to the foreheads of these Astral Observers and Morning Assembly Announcers. Thus, whatever they saw—people, objects, buildings, scenes—was all incorporated into Gu Lingyan's view.

It was her first time visiting such an "obscure" government office as the Astronomical Bureau. Over in the Barren Wastelands, they didn't have such things, so everything in her eyes was novel. After making a round, she learned that the local bureau supervisors were divided into two types: one was the inner court attendant, a steady iron rice bowl, and the other was a temporary recruitment of extraordinary individuals by the court, working short-term. The former had no retirement or returning to their hometown. As long as the ancestors were bureau supervisors, the fathers followed suit, and future generations would continue, generation after generation, circling within this clear-water yamen, unable to transfer to other posts. They were born as people of the Astronomical Bureau and died as ghosts of the Astronomical Bureau—truly dedicating their lives to the end.

One young Astral Observer returned to his office, a shabby room with dim light. He spread out paper and brush and began calculating some divine mysteries. The documents on his desk made Gu Lingyan's head spin—things like "interstitial accumulation method" and "circle approximation method." "Is this what you people fiddle with every day?" she wondered. "No wonder the hair under your official hats is so sparse."

Gu Lingyan glanced toward the Black Gauze Street over in Yongjia County but detected nothing unusual.

Pity that the only clear information on that year's list was about the sword cultivator Liu Cai, detailing the abilities of his two flying swords.

In one government room, the bureau director Luo Yongqing, along with vice-directors Wu Jian and Li Fujing—the three chief officials—were gathered to discuss matters. The top priority for the Astronomical Bureau in recent years had been tasked with surveying and choosing a location for the imperial mausoleum. Director Luo often needed to collaborate with officials from the Inner Court Directorate of Ceremonial, the Ministry of Rites, and the Court of Imperial Sacrifices to find an auspicious site for the current emperor. Matters of mountain tombs required meticulous selection, emphasizing external mountain forms and internal veins of the earth, seeking a place where mountains, waters, and royal qi coalesced into perfect beauty. Not a single flaw could be allowed. The matter was of great importance. The Astronomical Bureau carefully worded their memorials, attached maps and illustrations, and submitted them. His Majesty the Emperor's replies and edicts had gone back and forth nearly ten times.

In the marketplace, the elderly often prepared their own coffins while still alive. In imperial families, the emperor often began choosing a fengshui-optimized tomb site at the start of his reign.

The three officials looked at the two sand tables in the room. The Ministry of Rites and the Astronomical Bureau had each selected a tomb site, each with its own advantages and disadvantages.

Vice-director Wu asked, "Is Elder Scholar Liu still insisting on his wording?"

Not long ago, he had gone with He Zhao, the chief of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, to local temples to enshrine the spirit tablets of three founding princes in their respective new temples. The court had redefined the sacrificial standards, upgrading it to the Grand Prisoner Rite. However, the ritual vessels and utensils for the spirit tablets in the shrines were still to be made of silver. Then they selected three officials of the eighth rank to be "permanent temple guardians."

Though the Astronomical Bureau was a clear-water, cold-bench office, the work the officials did was indeed substantial.

Vice-director Li nodded. "Hong, the junior minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, agrees with Scholar Liu's view. Earlier, the director and I went to the palace together and had a small quarrel with them. It's clear that His Majesty is also troubled. If this drags on any longer, we'll probably each get fifty strokes."

Vice-director Wu smiled. "Monks from afar recite scriptures better. You should have listened to me and let the Mountain Ridge Bureau at Deerhorn Mountain say a few fair words for our Astronomical Bureau. Then this matter could be settled."

Director Luo Yongqing sighed. "You don't know. While you were away from the capital, Deerhorn Mountain was in chaos. They had no time for us."

They only awaited His Majesty's final decision on the site. Then the Astronomical Bureau and the Ministry of Rites could choose an auspicious day to inform the ancestors. The Ministry of Works would co-manage the construction. According to the established ritual process, they would first build a fragrant hall to prepare for the arrival of the imperial coffin. The court would then send a vice-commissioner of the imperial clan to offer sacrifices at various tombs and to inform the mountain gods of the chosen site. The Minister of Works would sacrifice to the Earth Goddess and the God of Construction Works. Ultimately, a vice-minister of the Ministry of Works would supervise and manage the specific project.

The affairs were by no means simple.

Vice-director Wu was about to ask how Deerhorn Mountain was in chaos when, at that moment, a woman's voice sounded from the doorway, speaking with a smile: "This imperial tomb site you've carefully chosen at the Astronomical Bureau—could it be that the incoming dragon vein is too solitary? Do you really not need to invite a few local experts in fengshui to come to the capital for a re-survey and help you plan?"

These were the temporary recruits serving as external officials in the Astronomical Bureau, usually of very low rank—mostly holding positions like Clepsydra Doctor or Belted Geomancer, the lowest ninth-rank or secondary ninth-rank officials. Once a project was completed, their temporary official status would be immediately revoked. The court would symbolically bestow some salary and stationery items from the Imperial Workshop. Even so, the emperor still personally reviewed all lists. If an external official failed the Ministry of Personnel's specialized assessment during their tenure, they would be expelled from the Astronomical Bureau. Moreover, even if dismissed as a commoner and returned to their hometown, they were forbidden to speak a single word about internal matters of the Astronomical Bureau. If discovered, they would be sentenced to wearing a cangue and exiled a thousand li. Such secrets were not only absent from official histories and inner court secret archives but also from local gazetteers and family genealogies. Only when the dynasty changed could descendants, wanting to glorify their ancestors, dare to write a few lines in the family records.

Vice-director Wu sternly demanded, "Who goes there?!"

The Astronomical Bureau was a forbidden area of the nation. Any qi refiner daring to trespass here would certainly be in deep trouble. The duty officials would also be implicated, and not lightly—every single one of them would be punished, and it wouldn't be a matter of a poor evaluation from the Ministry of Personnel or a court reprimand.

At the doorway, ripples appeared like water, and a woman's figure materialized. She wore a veiled hat, her posture graceful like a beauty stepping out of a painting. She raised a finger to her lips, signaling them to be silent. She walked casually to the sand table, picked up a yellow bamboo marking rod, and lightly tapped the mountain and dragon veins on the table. Then she began speaking nonsense with a straight face: "I serve in the Luan Mountain Ritual System Department and have met a few of your already-deceased ancestors from the Astronomical Bureau a few times. We chatted about geomancy and mathematics—nothing about who taught whom, just mutual benefit. Passin by this time, I borrowed a few books and saw you worrying over this matter, so I thought I'd offer some ideas. Rest assured, I'm one of you. Otherwise, why would I willingly reveal myself and invite trouble?"

She was purely bored and looking for something to do.

The three chief officials were suspicious, but after exchanging thoughts telepathically, they decided to wait and see, not to start a fight.

The Astronomical Bureau's books and instruments, though important, were not the sort of valuables in a worldly sense. Generally, no qi refiner would come here seeking wealth—the risks and rewards were too unbalanced.

In the imperial palace, a small room. A middle-aged couple sat on a heated brick bed. The wife, sensitive to cold, held a finely crafted charcoal brazier in her hand.

A short old man had been granted a chair to sit on, with a brazier at his feet. The old man was chatting with the man while picking lice.

They were discussing why Hong Zhongyu, originally the Civil Judge of the Capital City God Temple, had been promoted to the City God of Lengzhou in the suzerain state of Great Li Dynasty. But no matter how they talked, they couldn't figure out the reason.

Regardless, Judge Hong's career opportunity brought honor to the Xue Clan of Yuxuan. As for whether City God Hong would later help Yuxuan—don't even think about it. City gods at various levels were quite different from the typical mountain-and-water officialdom.

Then they received a secret letter from the Ma Family mansion in Yongjia County. Emperor Xue Pang read it with a grave expression. Without any taboo against imperial consorts interfering in politics, he directly handed the letter to the empress, who then gave it to the old man—the Yuxuan Kingdom's three-dynasty national preceptor, Huang Lie.

Deep down, the empress harbored a heavy resentment toward Qin Zheng. Though their few encounters had been superficially cordial, she actually despised this matron of the Ma family most of all—a woman from the market who had risen from a clod to a branch; was she no longer a clod?

After reading the letter, the old man wrinkled his face and said softly, "An unprovoked disaster."

"Your Ma family, of all people, had to provoke this person? There are so many reclusive masters in Bottle Gourd Continent—why not pick any other? Why did you have to make an enemy of him?"

The old man was an old Golden Core. In the old days, an earth immortal on Bottle Gourd Continent carried considerable weight.

Across the continent, hundreds of kingdoms stood, emperors came and went, but land immortals were few and far between. Take Sunny Mountain and Wind and Thunder Garden—how many years of accumulated foundation did they have? Yet neither had ever had a Jade Pure realm sitting atop their peaks. If Li Tuanjing or Zhu Huang, any of those sword immortals, had broken into the upper five realms, centuries of grievances would have been settled long ago.

Of course, nowadays Bottle Gourd Continent was increasingly hard to understand. Not only did the continent itself not understand, but probably the other eight continents of Bright Ocean also couldn't fathom it.

How had so many upper five realm cultivators suddenly appeared?

Especially the younger generation from the Pearly Bead Cave Heaven—each one was ridiculously powerful.

Well, to the south, on Indus Leaf Continent, upper five realm cultivators were withering and falling one after another. But on their own Bottle Gourd Continent, the more they fought, the more there were.

A royal retainer, clad in splendid armor and wearing a dharma saber, rushed in to report a matter: "Your Majesty, the main hall of Yangcui suddenly opened its doors. Your subordinate heard and immediately took people to investigate. We saw a stranger inside. When asked his name and origin, he didn't answer."

The emperor thought he had misheard. "What?"

The empress frowned. "Can't you drive him away?"

This inner court retainer, originally from the martial underworld and later recruited by the court, said with an awkward expression, "We can't drive him away."

In fact, as the foremost of the three main halls of the palace, the inner court retainers couldn't even get through the gate.

The emperor smiled bitterly. "National Preceptor, isn't this 'blessings never come in pairs, but disasters never come alone'?"

The old man nodded. "Those who come with good intentions are few; those who come with ill intentions are many."

The content of the secret letter they had received earlier was… not at all vague or obscure. Today, Chen Ping'an of Fallen Mountain had come to seek revenge, and he would not stop until he achieved his goal.

The Ma family was in trouble today and begged the Xue court for protection to help them through this crisis. If successful, the Ma family of Yongjia County would surely reward them handsomely.

The emperor's thoughts were the simplest: immortals and mortals were as different as clouds and mud. When it came to personal vendettas among gods fighting, the Xue clan only needed—or rather, must—stand by and watch.

As for afterward, if True Martial Mountain, or more precisely, Ma Kuxuan, came to demand an explanation, he surely couldn't vent his anger on the Xue clan, could he?

No matter how domineering Ma Kuxuan was, he couldn't bypass the Great Li Dynasty and the Observatory Academy, could he?

So Emperor Xue Pang had only invited the national preceptor to ask one thing: did the court need to mobilize the palace guard and the Five City Military Command to gather at Yongjia County as a show of force?

The national preceptor said no—doing so might backfire.

In other words, it was better to play dumb, as if they had never received that flying sword message.

The emperor said cautiously, "National Preceptor, after all, the Ma family is the pillar supporting the foundation of the nation."

Without the Ma family, the implications would be too great—it would inevitably shake the roots.

The empress lowered her eyes, gently fiddling with a colorful fasting plaque with her delicate fingers. She said casually, "That Lord Chen is such a hero. If he has come for vengeance this time, it's a private matter among those on the mountain. Lord Chen wouldn't go so far as to take over all the Ma family's properties within Yuxuan Kingdom, would he?"

Regarding the Ma family's prospering businesses everywhere, the palace had a secret ledger—a thick book of nearly a hundred pages.

She had coveted it for a long time.

If they were going to die, let them die cleanly. If they were all gone, the properties could naturally be confiscated to the state treasury.

It was better than letting the Ma family grow too big, becoming too deeply rooted in Yuxuan, too big to handle. The empress was afraid that one day, a Ma family son might become a prince consort, or a woman named Ma might enter the palace in a decade or so and have to call her "mother-in-law."

Xue Pang asked, "National Preceptor, what should we do about Yangcui Hall? Should we leave it alone and let him wander off on his own?"

The old man looked deeply worried. He stood up. "Your Majesty, I'll go take a look. See if I can recognize which dragon has crossed the river. As long as I can confirm his identity, even an upper five realm won't intimidate me."

"I must tell Your Majesty in advance: if I encounter someone who doesn't play by the rules, I'll act according to my ability. The best is to persuade him. If we can't come to terms, if I can beat him, I'll drive him away. If I definitely can't, I'll help close the door. Even if he sits on Your Majesty's dragon throne or even defecates and urinates on it, let him. After all, once the door is closed, no one will see what he's doing inside."

Emperor Xue Pang smiled and nodded. "National Preceptor, don't be too hasty. Try to avoid conflict and hurting relations. It's fine to chat with him a bit more. I'll have the imperial kitchen prepare some fruits and snacks. If your conversation goes well, you can have them brought to Yangcui Hall."

In truth, they only found it troublesome. Such an intrusion did damage the dignity of the state and caused some loss of face. But as for fear or panic, that wasn't the case.

If this had happened thirty or forty years ago, a small country monarch suddenly hearing that an unknown qi refiner was standing in the main hall of his own palace—he wouldn't have been so calm.

Tracing the reason, it was probably because Yuxuan Kingdom, as a vassal of the Great Li Dynasty, wasn't too afraid of such "accidents."

Not to mention that the boldness of wild cultivators had been shattered by the Great Li Dynasty long ago. Even the registered immortal masters and martial arts grandmasters—so what?

After the national preceptor left the room for Yangcui Hall, the emperor squinted and smiled. "These cultivation immortals."

The empress, holding the brazier, said lazily, "Indeed."

Pei Qian arrived at the main gate of the Capital City God Temple. The street was lined with incense and candle shops. Because of the heavy rain and the fact that it was the Clear and Bright Festival, the temple, usually bustling with incense, saw only a few sparse oil-paper umbrellas moving slowly. Pei Qian adjusted her bamboo hat, holding a mountain-walking staff, and walked slowly through the mountain gate memorial arch. Entering the second ceremonial gate, she saw that most of the plaques had blue backgrounds with gold characters. The overall color tone was dark, different from the palaces of mountain and water spirits. Though considered part of the mountain-and-water officialdom, the underworld officials at City God Temples had different duties.

The main hall enshrined a seated statue of the City God. On the left was the Civil Judge, on the right the Martial Judge. The array of City God officials and ghost lictors stood in solemn order, responsible for inspecting the good and evil of the living in the yang world, eliminating malevolent spirits within the territory, and governing all wandering souls. Because the former Civil Judge, Hong Zhongyu, had been transferred elsewhere, this golden statue was temporarily covered with a large red cloth. Once the new Civil Judge took office, a new statue would replace it.

Thanks to her own sect, which included Little Senior Brother Big White Goose—who knew everything from astronomy to geography and could answer almost any question—and because Pei Qian had once traveled alone through several continents of Bright Ocean, she had become quite knowledgeable about the historical origins and local lore of various "strange and supernatural" phenomena. According to Cui Dongshan's explanation, the main duty of city gods at all levels was primarily "guiding and receiving."

As expected of someone who claimed to have been to Fengdu.

The Ministry of Revenue of the secular dynasty stored the"Fish Scale Yellow Registers," which recorded in detail the lands and household registrations of a country. The City God Temple, in turn, was responsible for recording in detail the merits and faults of all sentient beings in the yang world in detail.

Pei Qian arrived outside the main hall of the Capital City God Temple. Earlier, she had bought incense and candles on the street outside, bowed three times to the officials in the main hall, and paid respect to heaven, earth, and the four directions.

After she finished burning incense and paying her respects, a female Day Patrol God appeared. She was tall and slender, wearing a gauze hat and wide robe. Though a woman, she had a majestic bearing. A wooden plaque reading "Day Patrol" hung at her waist. She rode a fiery red horse, responsible for patrolling the capital territory during the day. Sensing something unusual in the City God Temple, and due to her duty, she immediately rushed over. Dismounting, the fiery horse dissipated into thin air, merging into the wooden plaque as flames. She asked solemnly, "Who goes there?"

Pei Qian announced herself, "This junior is Pei Qian. I pay my respects to the Capital Day Patrol God. My lineage is settled at Fallen Mountain in Chuzhou Prefecture, Great Li Dynasty. I apologize for the disturbance."

The Day Patrol God said, "Wait a moment," and took out a green-blue jade book. From it, she "drew out" a series of golden and white characters—all verifiable content.

Pei Qian's gold-and-jade lineage record on the mountain was indeed at the Patriarch Hall of Jise Peak, Fallen Mountain. The yellow register household registration was in Huaihuang County, Longquan Commandery, Chuzhou, Great Li Dynasty.

The travel documents of the yang world could be forged, but they could not deceive a City God Temple with its bright mirror hanging high.

The Day Patrol God hesitated for a moment, then smiled. "Honored Pei, your birth date and hometown don't match. May I ask, is there an error in the household records of Huaihuang County, Great Li Dynasty?"

Though the path of the dark and the bright were different, as a female divine official of the City God Temple belonging to the officially appointed assistant officers of the underworld government, she was like a ranked court official. There was no need for her to be overly polite with a yang world martial artist. But first, Pei Qian was the first disciple of the esteemed Sword Immortal Chen of Fallen Mountain; second, she was a "red figure" on a certain internal file of the City God Temple. In short, wherever Pei Qian traveled across the Nine Continents of Bright Ocean, whenever she passed through any City God Temple—even in a remote small country's prefectural or county temple—after verification, she would be treated with some respect.

Pei Qian smiled and explained, "I was born in Lotus Blossom Blessed Land on Indus Leaf Continent, but I've long forgotten my exact birth date. Later, when I followed my master to Huaihuang County, I just wrote a random file at the household office."

The Day Patrol God smiled and nodded. "No matter, it doesn't hinder the divine calculations."

She then asked, "Honored Pei, do you want to find out your true birth date?"

Pei Qian shook her head. "Appreciate the kindness, but no need."

The month and day recorded in the Huaihuang County household office were set based on the month and day she first met her master. Martial artists believed that taking a master was like being reborn into a new life, so it was fine. No need to change.

This Day Patrol God gave a brief self-introduction; her name was Qin Fuxuan. She had once been a famous female general in Yuxuan Kingdom's history.

Qin Fuxuan asked, "Honored Pei, is there a reason for your visit to the Capital City God Temple today?"

Pei Qian said sheepishly, "I don't deserve the title 'Honored Pei.' Just call me Pei Qian."

Qin Fuxuan smiled without speaking, waiting for more.

Pei Qian said, "Just passing through, taking a look around."

Qin Fuxuan smiled and nodded, then took her leave.

Pei Qian looked at the City God's seated statue in the main hall, as well as the painted sculpture of the Martial Judge beside him.

Even in a vassal state with weak national power, the Capital City God Temple would still have at least twelve departments. For the Great Li Dynasty's capital and secondary capital, the two Capital City God Temples each had as many as thirty-six departments.

As for the foremost City God Temple in the world, located in the Lingzhi Dynasty in the Central Earth Divine Continent, its administrative structure had as many as sixty-two departments.

City God Zhou Fangyu held a divine rank equal to that of the Five Sacred Mountains of the Central Earth and the Four Sea Lords. Under this City God Zhou were four chief divine generals, named Gan, Liu, Fan, and Xie.

Pei Qian had once visited this City God Temple during her travels. In fact, she had even met City God Zhou and General Fan once.

Of course, it wasn't like today's situation, with a living yang person looking up at the divine master. They had actually had conversations. But it seemed there was nothing much to say about such things.

Yu Qing, who had been a cook in the Ma Mansion for years, dared not continue climbing the mountain. She slowly retreated to the foot and then followed the long river to find the one who called herself Xiao Xing from the Barren Wastelands.

As a relatively accomplished mountain qi refiner, she wasn't afraid of those scenes of swords hanging corpses. What she feared was the deep meaning hidden behind that picture.

She worried that if she made one wrong step, she would become one of them, suspended between heaven and earth, swinging.

Yu Qing stopped, was silent for a long time, then looked across the river at the Barren Wastelands female cultivator who had even revealed the true name of an ancient demon. "Miss Xiao, may I ask where this place is?"

Xiao Xing squatted by the river, cupping water to wash her face, then patted her cheeks. She asked back, "Does it still matter whether you know where you are or not?"

Yu Qing said, "If you won't tell me, I'll leave."

In an instant, Xiao Xing lost her composure. She stretched out her hand, like a drowning person grabbing at a lifeline, begging the beautiful woman across the river not to go, please don't go, stay and talk with her.

Yu Qing looked at the distraught Barren Wastelands female cultivator and let out a faint sigh. Could her situation today be her own tomorrow?

She asked, "May I ask, Fellow Daoist Xiao, how do you keep your dao heart from collapsing?"

Perhaps cherishing every opportunity to talk with someone, Xiao Xing always liked to ramble on about irrelevant topics before getting to the point.

She claimed that although she was merely a sliver of divine consciousness, she could still visualize a complete soul, no different from a real person. Though soul travel and dream travel had similar effects, they were fundamentally different. What Xiao Xing was doing now was a method of leaving one soul in the true body as a housekeeper. It worked, but only temporarily. She had already used more than a dozen secret Barren Wastelands techniques just to barely keep her dao heart from crumbling.

Yu Qing asked curiously, "What is the identity of that young Daoist sitting on the mountain path steps? Is he Chen Ping'an's yin spirit on a distant journey, or a yang spirit external incarnation? Why does he look like that? Is there a special meaning?"

Xiao Xing suddenly smiled, as if reveling in a profound vengeance, which made her delicate features look somewhat twisted and distorted. "Neither. He will never have a yin or yang spirit again in this life. As a disciple of a sage, he is destined never to nurture a single lifebound character—pitiful, truly pitiful. As for that... being in the form of a Daoist, it is... Young Master Ren."

Yu Qing deliberately skipped the parts whose truth she couldn't confirm, but the last sentence baffled her. "What?"

Xiao Xing tilted her head and asked with a smile, "Even I, a beast from the Barren Wastelands, know that in Bright Ocean there is a popular poem: 'Who is like Young Master Ren, riding a green donkey among the clouds?' As an earth immortal of Bright Ocean, you haven't heard it?"

At the edge of sight, hundreds or thousands of li away, the sea of white clouds was still clearly visible. There sat a young Daoist wearing a lotus crown, barefoot, cross-legged, riding a green donkey. He held a bamboo pole with a gold fishing line. He cast the line far away, and the silk flashed golden light high in the sky. The hook fell into the green river below, instantly stirring up huge waves on the water—splashing like snow, water droplets roaring like thunder.

Sensing the attention, the young Daoist smiled and waved at them, then raised a finger to his lips, as if signaling the two girls to keep quiet and not scare away the fish about to bite.

Xiao Xing suddenly asked, "Are you a sword cultivator?"

Yu Qing laughed. "How could I be? Sword cultivators are so rare."

If she were a precious sword cultivator, she wouldn't be in the Ma Mansion.

Wherever a sword cultivator went, they were a hot commodity.

Xiao Xing fixed her gaze on the plump woman across the river, her eyes shining. She chattered on, "Here, if you want to be, you can be. Since we call each other dao friends and truly share hardship, I can help."

"How many lifebound flying swords do you want? We can negotiate."

"But I'm only responsible for drafting, like making a rough clay mold. To truly make it vivid and alive, you need him as the chief inspector to... finalize and name it, endowing it with a legitimate reality."

As she spoke, a vividly colored clay figurine of "Yu Qing" appeared beside Xiao Xing. But the latter seemed to have its eyes closed, as if only lacking a final touch of life.

This Yu Qing was even more beautiful and dignified in countenance than the real woman.

Xiao Xing circled the counterfeit Yu Qing, adding exquisite ornaments like hairpins and flowers, while pointing at the chest and buttocks, even gently kneading and pinching. "Fellow daoist, you have a wonderful figure. Should I apply yellow powder and rouge to your cheeks, or do you prefer plain elegance without makeup? Here, and here—do you want them bigger and fuller, or have you always found them cumbersome and want them a bit smaller? By the way, have you decided how many flying swords you want, and their forms and abilities?"

On the mountain, a brow-tracer; at home, a white paper blessed land—the two combined gave rise to all sorts of whimsical ideas and strange scenes.

Yu Qing asked, "This entire world—did you build it bit by bit, refining details, spending your energy?"

Xiao Xing sneered. "How dare I take credit? Less than one percent."

"To be honest, the so-called boundless world you see now is just one of more than a dozen illusionary scrolls, labeled by him as 'Pavilion Six.' I know of over twenty such small worlds in total, but what proportion they occupy—I'm clueless. He didn't give me the authority to open more scrolls. I've only glimpsed a few from afar. Like a swarm of fireflies in a summer meadow—dots of light, flickering on and off."

"Though I would love to flay Chen Ping'an and pull his sinews, drink his blood, eat his flesh, and use his bones for firewood, I have to admit—setting aside our enmity, if I met him on the road, just based on his methods, I would willingly kneel and kowtow, calling him my ancestor, and be perfectly content."

Hearing this, Yu Qing sneered. "Fellow daoist, you truly hold nothing back."

Xiao Xing smiled. "Since you and I are destined to stay here for a long time, why hide anything?"

Then came a scene that caught Yu Qing off guard. Xiao Xing's smile turned seductive, her eyes fixed on the woman across the river. Without a word, she shed all her clothes, revealing a snow-white body. She lifted her leg, wrapping it around the waist of the "Yu Qing" figurine... Yu Qing's expression darkened. She turned and walked straight toward the green mountain, refusing to see more. From across the river came faint sounds of gasping. Yu Qing cursed, "Shameless filth!" Xiao Xing, however, was already passionately entangled with the "Yu Qing," eyes seductive, crying and whispering. She looked at the retreating woman's back, her hands still moving, removing the "Yu Qing's" clothes, lifting a heavy, bulging mound on her chest. With a pitying gaze, she murmured softly, "Good sister, you don't understand anything at all. What is the true dao heart between heaven and earth? To him, this is far more than just a skeleton contemplation. Good sister, this kind of pleasure between fish and water, the joy of the bedchamber—I know you're familiar with it. Why pretend to be shy... Think of it as a face-to-face observation of the dao. Watch: sinking or floating in the sea of desire—that too is cultivation."

Yu Qing looked around and shouted loudly, "Chen Ping'an, is this the heart-land of your mind? Is this your way of treating guests?!"

Xiao Xing, almost crazed, removed her hairpin, let down her bun, pushed the "Yu Qing" to the ground, and leaned over. For a moment, their snow-white bodies twisted like snakes. Then Xiao Xing began... devouring the other's flesh and blood in big bites.

Yu Qing's expression darkened, her hands and feet cold.

Because, vaguely, she had seen through the "true body" of the long river.

It was an extremely long green snake. The "river water" was actually the densely packed scales of the snake, shining brightly under the sunlight, flowing like water.

Love between man and woman, waves of desire.

The young Daoist, called "Young Master Ren" by Xiao Xing, put away his fishing rod and casually tossed it into the pile of white clouds. In one step, he appeared beside Yu Qing and walked side by side. He praised, "Fellow daoist Yu, good eyesight—you saw through the truth of this long river so quickly. Fellow daoist Xiao still lacks some skill and insight."

Before the young Daoist, a red gourd hung by a gold thread. A peach branch was tucked diagonally into his collar at the back. He smiled. "Those who enter the mountains to cultivate the dao need not avoid discussing lust and desire."

"Immortals originally come from mortals, but mortal hearts are not firm. Mortals' desires for taste, the obstacles of beauty and ugliness, fame and honor as shackles, worldly love as a cage, life and death as another barrier—once you have a mind of gain and loss, each barrier connects like mountains. One mountain lets you pass, but a myriad block the way."

"They say distant relatives are worse than close neighbors. May I ask Fellow Daoist Yu's real surname?"

Hearing this, Yu Qing finally spoke. "Daoist, you guessed wrong. My surname is not Lu, but double-surname Gongsun."

The Daoist smiled and asked, "Fellow Daoist Gongsun, do you have any lineage connection with the Hidden Sword Masters of the Western Mountains?"

Yu Qing said with a complex expression, "I was once one of the Blood-Washers, but not from the Hidden Sword lineage. Later I broke the rules and was expelled. Drifting like duckweed, I was recruited by Ma Kuxuan of True Martial Mountain, and I had a sixty-year agreement with him."

But at that time, Ma Kuxuan never said who exactly the Ma family's enemy was. He only mentioned a fellow villager, a contemporary, who had just started practicing boxing not long ago and might cause some trouble for the Ma family in the future. He told her to handle it however she saw fit.

At that time, Yu Qing evaluated it and didn't think much of it. A young martial artist just starting to practice boxing—even if he had another sixty years, what could he amount to?

Yu Qing asked, "And you are?"

The Daoist smiled. "Since we are both people in distress, why dig for roots and ask for backgrounds?"

Yu Qing snorted.

Then why did you ask me my real surname just now?

The Daoist said unabashedly, "Spend more time together, and fellow daoist will deeply understand one thing: I, this poor Daoist, have always been lenient with myself and strict with others."

He patted the gourd. "I've invited fellow daoist into this jar—won't you ask what medicine this poor Daoist is selling in his gourd?"

Yu Qing smiled casually. "It couldn't be regret medicine, could it?"

The Daoist was surprised. "Fellow daoist is sharp—you hit the bull's-eye."

"But a catalyst is needed."

"To taste regret medicine, first raise a fearful heart."

Yu Qing then lost the desire to talk.

Mysterious and pretentious.

She never expected the last Hidden Officer of the Sword Qi Great Wall to be such a frivolous person.

The young Hidden Officer she imagined was purer, more upright in his actions.

For example, if he wanted to take revenge on the Ma family, he would just kill his way from the main gate to the ancestral hall. Why all this deception and confusion, making people feel lost in the fog?

Yu Qing said, "I only have one last question. You've detained me here; what do you seek? Can you be open and honest and enlighten me a little?"

The young Daoist smiled. "Our Fallen Mountain's Chief Jiang once spoke a very thought-provoking truth. Would Fellow Daoist Gongsun like to hear it?"

The Daoist answered himself. "The greatest protector of a cultivator is ourselves."

The Daoist squatted down, grabbed a handful of soil, rubbed it gently in his palm, then opened his fingers. The crumbs of soil fell, but on the way down, they seemed to pass through layers of sieves, each stopping at different heights. There were seven layers of "sieves." The higher the sieve, the larger the mesh, so the "soil and gravel" that stopped lower were finer. "Let as many pure ones as possible sprout love and hate here, bloom and bear fruit, grow into shady trees. Then take the tangled web of greed, anger, ignorance, pride, doubt—complex humanity—and unravel it thread by thread. Eventually, through your words, thoughts, eyes, expressions, and actions, let them take root here, exist permanently. Through addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, rearrange them, so these small worlds, made true by purity, become increasingly impure and real."

"So you are all seeds. Whether vegetable seeds or seeds of flowers, grasses, or trees—you decide today what you will become tomorrow."

Yu Qing couldn't help but ask another question. "People outside say that you were able to inscribe on the city wall because you borrowed swords from Chen Qingdu or borrowed methods from Lu Chancellor. There are many theories, but anyway, no one believes you could have completed the journey through the Barren Wastelands or slain the great demon lord of Tuoyue Mountain based solely on your true realm. I won't ask about those inside stories. I only want to know one thing: at what height is your 'knowing' now?"

The Daoist laughed. "A good question. The level of 'knowing'—Fellow Daoist implies that although I returned the sword art of the Great Sword Immortal or the methods of Lu Chancellor, I secretly kept their state of mind? So no matter whether I am now in the Nascent Soul or Jade Pure realm, my cognition of this world remains at the fourteenth realm, inheriting their vein? Therefore, my creative means here seem out of proportion to my own realm. Well said: ordinary people's minds follow things, sages' things follow their minds. Fellow Daoist Yu, as a cultivator of the Blood-Washer lineage, your insight is indeed not low."

Yu Qing squatted down, looking at the topmost layer of that "tower." There were a few small pebbles and some sand. "Can these be seen as peak cultivators—the fourteenth realm?"

The young Daoist, wearing a lotus crown, clapped his hands and teased, "Last and then last, how many lasts there are."

Yu Qing asked herself, "What is the foundation of this world?"

The Daoist smiled. "Soil, flowing water, the circulation of clear and turbid qi, the changing of the four seasons, all sentient beings—they can be words, phrases, and sentences composed of billions of characters; mountains, rivers, and cities built from millions of talismans; or your seven emotions and six desires."

Yu Qing asked, "One last question: is there no limit?"

The Daoist said, "The great world contains all wonders. The mind is boundless, the dharma is unlimited, this moment is endless."

Yu Qing asked, "Did you find me just by chance?"

"Saying a few pretty, polite words to Fellow Daoist is no trouble, but it's meaningless."

The Daoist reached out, grabbed some dirt that was everywhere, then pointed a finger at Yu Qing, as if plucking a brilliant pearl from her—like a miniature moon slowly revolving. "You have a bright pearl; I have a handful of sand. Setting aside the prices of the outside world, in this realm, tell me: what difference does it make between noble and base, high and low? This is what is meant by 'Heaven created me for a purpose.'"

The Daoist reached out and scattered that "pagoda." He stood up, pointed to the long river. "Since we've had a pleasant chat, let me tell you a secret. To save some energy, the riverbed's foundation is derived from one of the tributaries of the Swaying River in the Barren Wastelands: the Unfixed River."

"A river of a green snake—that is a sword art."

"It needs repeated polishing."

Yu Qing stood up as well. "Once the sword art is complete, who will you ask for a duel?"

The Daoist avoided the question and smiled. "Want to continue touring the White Jade Capital?"

Yu Qing asked in confusion, "Continue?"

The Daoist didn't speak. He walked toward the green mountain. Yu Qing turned to look as the mist and clouds dissipated, revealing the mountain's true face: actually a Five Cities and Twelve Pavilions.

The Daoist walked forward with grand strides, his sleeves fluttering. Strings of purple-gold characters manifested along his path. There were secret scriptures, spirit poems and treasure invocations, poetic verses and ancient texts.

Spring days are warm, the orioles sing. The road is long, my heart is full of reluctance.

In ancient times, a moral sage once saw a bird like an owl pecking a tree, and fire burst forth from the peck.

Yuxuan Kingdom, capital city.

Shen Ke stood outside the outer city gate. The old martial arts grandmaster, slow to catch on, now knew clearly that he was in an incredibly supernatural place.

When he walked out of the Ma family's Black Gauze Lane in Yongjia County, this was the scene. If he now tried to leave the capital?

The whole street was filled with the same face. Shen Ke hesitated briefly, not daring to leave the "capital." He wandered through streets and alleys, drank, ate at restaurants, casually pulled people into conversations, entered shops to buy things, and even killed people—all without issue. The capital's residents, nobles and commoners, various artisans, shopkeepers and clerks, customers of all kinds—all had the same face. Their bodies were as fragile as pieces of torn paper. Shen Ke, skeptical, even crouched by a corpse, dipped his finger in the blood, tasted it—it did have a bloody smell.

This made Shen Ke's hair stand on end. He couldn't help cursing, "Damn eerie!"

After that, he tried to leave the capital, but every attempt—whether flying over the city wall or walking out through the gate—sent him right back inside the capital, as if walking in circles in a ghost maze.

In this vast Yuxuan Kingdom capital, Shen Ke tried to find a third face. No matter how he walked, ran, or flew, everyone he saw had the same face.

Days felt like years.

A living man couldn't be choked to death by urine. So Shen Ke started looking for things to do, like opening a martial arts school to teach boxing, returning to the palace for a massacre, or even opening a silk shop... The students who came to learn boxing, or the customers who visited, all acted and spoke like "normal people," except for their faces. Poor old grandmaster—he grew thinner and thinner, his appearance withered. At first, he kept track of time, counting how many days had passed. Later, he became completely numb. He worked as a bamboo weaver, a coroner, a night watchman... In a vast capital of over 200,000 people, Shen Ke felt like he was living among walking corpses.

He had long lost track of what year it was. The capital's four seasons rotated orderly. On a heavy snow day, the dejected old man sat blankly on the white jade bridge outside the palace.

Aged and decrepit.

He was going mad.

A man wearing a golden crown and a green gauze dharma robe smiled. "Old Grandmaster Shen, we're old acquaintances now. I call you 'Old Brother Shen'—you don't mind, do you?"

This was a martial artist about to break through to the Golden Body realm. His abundant fist intent was not to be underestimated. The falling snowflakes melted as if near a brazier, vanishing between heaven and earth.

Shen Ke turned stiffly and looked at the handsome, otherworldly immortal. His lips trembled. "Sword Immortal Chen, have mercy, I beg you to spare me!"

The man put his hands in his sleeves, leaning against the railing. "Reason."

Shen Ke wanted to cry but had no tears. He pleaded, "Sword Immortal Chen, we have no grudge. This is clearly our first meeting! At the Ma mansion in Yongjia County, I didn't even provoke you or insult you in words. Why have you imprisoned me here, waiting to die every day?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "It's true you and I have no grudge, but you have a deep enmity with this world."

At these words, Shen Ke's sorrow surged. Old tears flowed, and he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He had learned martial arts as a youth and traveled the martial world for about sixty years. He wouldn't claim his heart was as firm as stone or tougher than a qi refiner's dao heart, but he had seen many strange things. Yet this current situation was something he had never even dared to imagine—frightening. It felt like falling into a nightmare with no ghosts, unable to wake up.

Chen Ping'an said, "Nice thumb ring. After all these years, it still carries some remnant dragon qi from a fallen kingdom. Did Old Brother Shen kill an emperor?"

Shen Ke's heart skipped a beat. He forced a smile. "It's just an artifact from a small country's inner palace workshop—not worth much. If Sword Immortal Chen wants it, you can take it. Even cut off my finger and take both—just please let me leave this cursed place."

Chen Ping'an asked, "What parts of this capital do you think are unreasonable? What details need improvement?"

Truth didn't necessarily come entirely from "correctness" and "reason." Truth could also come from absurdity, irrationality, emotion, and lack of logic.

Shen Ke's head felt as big as a basket. "What parts are unreasonable? Sword Immortal Chen, be honest with yourself: is there any part of this that's reasonable?!"

Chen Ping'an laughed. "Talking about this with a martial grandmaster might be forcing the issue."

In a populous capital, the best place of the nation, in heavy snow, birds were rare to find. The river under the bridge froze. The short day's cold light shone above.

After a moment of silence, Chen Ping'an said, "If you want good people to be rewarded, evildoers must be punished. Shen Ke, don't you think so?"

Before Shen Ke could speak, from that moment on, everyone in the entire capital turned into Shen Ke's face.

An evil person will be tortured by another evil person.

The former and latter evil persons are the same.

Shen Ke turned to look. The green-robed immortal had walked off the bridge and turned back to meet his eyes, smiling. "If martial arts is the art of killing, and you like killing, then here—this city full of ants, over 200,000 of them. The qi refiners are low-level, at most the lower five realms. You can kill to your heart's content until your hands cramp and you vomit. The only trouble is those armored warriors of Yuxuan—they might have martial skills. One last reminder, Old Brother Shen: find a few handy weapons, and be quick. The weapons don't have to be very sharp, but they must be sturdy. When you've killed them all, you'll probably be free—probably."

As he spoke, Shen Ke was horrified to see the entire capital fold like paper, eventually turning the ground into a sphere. The various figures in the city, along streets and alleys, surged from all directions like a swarm of locusts, rushing toward Shen Ke as if with an irreconcilable hatred. Inside the sphere, he couldn't tell if the heavy snow was falling from the sky or rising from the ground.

In the snow, the Sword Immortal was no longer visible. Only a voice, like a chant or a song, drifted with the snow.

It was as if a high master gently shook a wind chime.

From now on, enjoy life: lie high, eat well, be a drinking immortal, listen to natural sounds. All four seasons are clear and fine. What can sorrow do to me? If that wretch Sorrow dares to knock at my border, I will repel him.

Inside the main hall of the Ma family ancestral home in Apricot Flower Lane, Pu Liu's eyelids twitched violently at the sight before her.

The woman, dressed even more magnificently than a titled lady, clutched a white silk ribbon tightly, constantly cursing and uttering poisonous spells, while the man only begged for mercy.

Qin Zheng's legs were stretched taut, her toes pointing to the ground. Ma Yan's neck was already circled with a red mark.

Then that Sword Immortal Chen told Pu Liu not to just stand there—go pry up the floor tiles where the couple were standing, so they couldn't take turns resting and breathing while one hanged and the other stood.

The old woman dared not disobey. She did as told, removing the green bricks from under their feet and digging two small pits—not big, but deep.

Chen Ping'an said to dig deeper, but take it slow.

The old woman continued digging like excavating a grave.

Chen Ping'an leaned against the doorframe and asked casually, "Who told the Ma family how to accumulate hidden virtue and fool the City God Temple? Was it the ghost Jiang Gui, or the old man carrying the excrement bucket?"

The old woman, still working squatting, answered honestly, "In reply to the Sword Immortal: I tested the depth of knowledge of that Ma family's husband tutor. Though Jiang Gui was born a ghost and has mixed learning, he's limited by his experience and cultivation realm and couldn't teach the Ma family such secrets. I suspect it was the work of Zhong Chang. Among the Ma family's retainers, this old man is the one I can't see through clearly."

But Pu Liu wouldn't dare ask why he didn't just interrogate the Ma husband and wife directly, since they were hanging there.

She was utterly puzzled. Wasn't this Sword Immortal Chen a scholar? Why was he so malicious and vicious?

But she quickly forced herself to dispel these inappropriate thoughts. At this point, whether she could survive was still uncertain.

She had only thought the Ma mansion was murky and dirty, but she never imagined it was so dangerous, full of hidden perils.

The Ma couple had secretly sent three flying sword messages, respectively to Emperor Xue of Yuxuan, the Martial Judge of the Capital City God Temple, and the Investigative Department of the Mountain God's Office at Deerhorn Mountain.

Old woman Pu Liu had also prepared both overt and covert methods, but they were all intercepted by that Sword Immortal Chen, who presented six letters right in front of her.

Chen Ping'an sat at the painting desk, leisurely grinding ink and picking up a brush, helping to circle and comment, weighing words, deliberating content, and finally rewriting three letters.

Legend had it that immortals who had attained the dao were vastly capable, one hand holding a sleeve that contained the universe.

But if so, the Astronomical Bureau and the Capital City God Temple would soon discover the abnormality at the Ma mansion in Yongjia County.

So Pu Liu still couldn't figure out how Chen Ping'an had isolated this space from the world.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "You can't understand Zhong Chang, the one who cleans toilets as a handyman—yet you can understand Yu Qing the cook?"

The old woman asked doubtfully, "The Sword Immortal means that woman Yu Qing, who cooks excellent private dishes?"

Chen Ping'an said, "She alone was personally invited by Ma Kuxuan to be a family retainer. The rest of you aren't the backbone—you're just filler."

The old woman tentatively asked, "May I ask the Sword Immortal: is that woman Yu Qing a Flying Ascension realm cultivator?"

If not a Flying Ascension realm, it seemed she couldn't even qualify to block Chen Ping'an's revenge.

"You really dare to think that."

Chen Ping'an shook his head and chuckled. "Yu Qing is the same as you—an Infant realm. Over twenty years ago, how many Infant realm cultivators were there in Bottle Gourd Continent? They weren't small fry. Even a fart from them could stir up big waves."

Pu Li, digging a pit like sinking a well, had reached sufficient depth. Using her peripheral vision, she observed the situation across from her. At present, a deadlock had formed. The cruel part wasn't that someone would die, but rather that this couple was destined for one of them to die first.

Of course, Ma Yan or Qin Zheng could choose to die willingly. The one who dies first and the one who dies later could meet outside the Ghost Gate without resentment toward each other. After all, they were a married couple who had shared wealth and hardship.

But there was another, more troubling scenario: one would strangle the other. Then on the Yellow Springs road, it would be hard to say whether they would hate Chen Ping'an, the chief culprit, more, or hate each other more.

Ma Yan, being a man and heavier with more strength, stood in the pit and began pulling the white silk on the beam toward himself, lifting the woman high into the air.

Qin Zheng was slowly hoisted, her feet leaving the ground. The woman sobbed softly, her eyes red. Her struggling movements and sounds gradually weakened until she was completely silent.

Chen Ping'an saw and heard nothing.

The woman's head was about to touch that invisible "beam," about to become a hanged ghost.

Ma Yan stood in the "well," both hands gripping the white silk, only his head visible, his feet on tiptoe at the bottom.

The old woman asked softly, "Sword Immortal Chen, should I dig another two or three feet deeper?" Chen Ping'an put his hands in his sleeves, leaning against the door of the main hall, quietly watching the woman's death. He said calmly, "No need. Wait slowly. I heard Ma Yan also fired porcelain when he was young. Let's see how strong his arms are and how long he can hold on."

The old woman was silent, a myriad of emotions surging in her heart. What great sins had she committed in her past life to end up in the Ma mansion and then encounter this avenger of the Ma family?

Chen Ping'an asked, "Immortal Master Pu, what is the cruelest torture you've seen in your life?"

The old woman answered softly, "One method: peel off a soul and twist it like a wick, light it as an oil lamp. It makes cultivators just beg for death."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "In the Ghost Realm Valley of Beiju Continent, I've seen that. They light the lamp in water—extremely eerie and horrible to witness."

The old woman said, "Another is a mountain water prison: forcefully break a couple of qi mansions as passages, pour a large amount of spiritual energy into them. Inside the cultivator's small world, it forms a tidal backflow. The hundred bones gradually swell, forcibly bursting the soul. During this, qi and blood surge, meridians snap inch by inch, sinews and bones crack. I heard that wild cultivators like to use this method against pure martial artists with sturdy physiques."

Chen Ping'an said, "This kind of death is similar to the cracked glaze on porcelains from my hometown. Senior, you are well-traveled. Please share a few more methods."

The old woman dared not hide anything, so she added seven or eight more mountain techniques.

Chen Ping'an listened very attentively. When the old woman ran out of words, he finally smiled and asked, "Did you hear all this secondhand, or have you personally tried them all?"

The old woman said awkwardly, "I heard it all—secondhand."

"Those with human hearts but no humanity are no different from ghosts. Those with cultivation but no dao-practice—how can they distinguish immortals from mortals?"

Chen Ping'an said, "Hearing is not as good as seeing, and seeing is not as good as experiencing. Later on, you can taste all these methods yourself."

Pu Liu felt as if she had been hit with a club—a club right on the head. Earlier, enduring the fire-ordeal in the room that tortured her body had already left an unforgettable impression. How could she withstand these seven or eight tortures?

Chen Ping'an tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Senior has lived so many years—why can't you take a joke?"

The old woman grimaced. "Sword Immortal Chen, this old woman is old, but my courage is small. I value my life more than anything."

Chen Ping'an said, "Go, tie some bricks to Lady Qin's feet."

The old woman hurried over to tie bricks to the hanged woman's legs. Now the weight of the hanged woman would exceed Ma Yan's.

Chen Ping'an asked, "If you manage to leave the Ma mansion alive, what are your plans?"

The old woman said cautiously, "Find a remote place, go into hiding, and cultivate honestly."

Chen Ping'an laughed. "What's the difference from the Ma mansion? Weren't you cultivating honestly here?"

The old woman tentatively said, "I beg the Sword Immortal to enlighten me. This old woman will certainly do as you say. Even if you suggest I shave my head and cultivate in a nunnery, I'm willing."

"What if I suggest you become a madam in a brothel?"

"Nothing hard about that—training in the mortal world is also cultivation."

"What if a client insists on having you?"

"I would bear it."

Chen Ping'an shook his head.

The old woman was stricken with anxiety.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Do you feel like asking a blind man for directions, or striking a bell with a straw?"

The old woman mumbled quietly.

As they made small talk, the old woman said tremblingly, "Sword Immortal Chen, they're both hanged."

Chen Ping'an said, "Then detain their souls."

The old woman reminded him softly, "Sword Immortal, with deaths in the house, the Capital City God Temple will soon detect the disturbance. When ghost lictors arrive and see this..."

Moreover, it was daytime. According to regulations, a Day Patrol God was on duty to inspect the area.

The underworld government of Fengdu carried out its duties impartially; it would show no favoritism.

Chen Ping'an said, "They know, but they can't enter."

Pu Liu dared not say another word. She used earth-immortal techniques to detain the souls of Ma Yan and Qin Zheng. Two ethereal ghost figures stood inside the room. Ma Yan hung his head, cowering, afraid to look at the woman.

Qin Zheng glared fixedly at that utterly heartless bastard.

Chen Ping'an laughed. "You're dead now, but you still can't go to the Capital City God Temple or become registered underworld officials in Fengdu. Isn't that a frustrating kind of death?"

The old woman asked quietly, "Sword Immortal, should I light their lamps or throw them into the water prison?"

Since she was already in the boat, she might as well go all the way.

Chen Ping'an said, "Killing without drawing blood is like eating noodles without garlic—it's just missing something."

The old woman was startled.

Chen Ping'an left the room, went to the woodshed, found a knife, and grabbed a handful of iron nails. He returned to the main hall, chopped up tables and stools with practiced movements, and made two coffins.

The old woman grew more and more confused.

Chen Ping'an told the old woman to break the white silk. The two "corpses"—one hanging, one in the pit—fell heavily to the ground.

Then he told Pu Liu to put both bodies into the coffins. Chen Ping'an then said, "Since you two are so afraid of death, I'll let you have your way. Return your souls to the yang world."

With a flick of his sleeve, the two ghost souls returned to their bodies. Chen Ping'an closed the coffin lids. During this, Ma Yan tried to sit up, but Chen Ping'an hit him back down with the firewood knife and began hammering iron nails with the knife's spine. Qin Zheng's voice was hoarse, and she started cursing, but to no avail. She screamed and wailed, helplessly watching as darkness closed in. Lying in the coffin, she couldn't see a thing.

Chen Ping'an said, "Method two."

Pu Liu was silent again.

Chen Ping'an tapped the coffin with his finger. "How long do you think they'll hold out? Starvation? Thirst? Or will they be scared to death?"

The old woman wrinkled her face, not daring to speak.

Chen Ping'an walked to the door and looked at the sky outside.

The old woman, eyes closed in concentration, held her breath. From inside the two coffins came various sounds: fierce pounding that gradually subsided, the scraping of a woman's fingernails against wood... As time passed, the old woman's heart pounded more and more. How long had it been? Even if the Yuxuan emperor had decided to stand by, even if the Deerhorn Mountain Investigative Department was too busy with its own troubles to get involved, why was there still no movement from the Capital City God Temple?

Chen Ping'an laughed. "A cycle in the mountains is sixty years; a thousand years in the world. This is called days feeling like years."

The old woman, as if possessed, asked a pointless question: "Are you really that Sword Immortal Chen from Fallen Mountain?"

Chen Ping'an asked back, "Do you know who the Sword Immortal Chen of Fallen Mountain is?"

The old woman sighed deeply.

That couple was suffering; she was the one falling apart.

Chen Ping'an walked to the courtyard gate. Opening the gate revealed Apricot Flower Lane.

Though named Apricot Flower Lane, there were no apricot trees planted. No one knew how it got its name.

Soon, a decrepit old man came hurrying up. He looked at Chen Ping'an standing in the doorway, as if trying to determine whether this was real or still an illusion.

The old man had been trapped in this ghost maze within this town for at least several decades. Just look at the horse orchids in Apricot Flower Lane—they had gone from a young woman to an old matchmaker.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Are you Zhong Chang? Did you come to the town while the previous sage was stationed at the Pearly Bead Cave Heaven? Or earlier? Earlier, when you looked at the horse orchids, you seemed to recognize them. Have you been here more than once?"

Zhong Chang, the credit-seller, said, "Can't we really just keep the river and the well separate?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Stop spouting nonsense that fools idiots. Just because you helped the Ma couple 'do good deeds without intention' to accumulate merit, we have a score to settle."

Zhong Chang didn't deny it.

The underworld of Fengdu had an iron rule: if you do good deeds deliberately, even good deeds, no reward is given. For the Ma couple to become officials in the City God Temple after death purely by their own intelligence and means was utterly delusional.

Zhong Chang glanced toward the main hall and said in a deep voice, "Chen Ping'an, a gentleman does what is proper and refrains from what is improper. I advise you to stop where appropriate."

Chen Ping'an turned his head and said, "Pu Liu, haven't you always felt you couldn't see through Zhong Chang's origin? Since you can't, fight him and find out."

The old woman walked to the doorway, hesitating.

Chen Ping'an sat down at the entrance. "I guess he's a Golden Core credit-seller. As for whether Zhong Chang is a sword cultivator—you'll have to find that out."

Hearing that the other party might be a Mohist credit-seller, Pu Liu's heart tightened. At the mention that he might also be a sword cultivator, the old woman's face turned ashen with despair.

Chen Ping'an laughed. "Forget it. I won't make an enemy for you. There's a limit to how much misery I can cause."

Hearing such considerate words, Pu Liu felt anything but relieved; she only grew more anxious.

In an instant, a green-robed figure blurred like smoke. The next moment, Chen Ping'an had already pressed his hand on Zhong Chang's head. The latter was pinned against the wall, unable to move.

Chen Ping'an raised his arm, fingers hooked like claws, and directly "pulled out" this credit-seller's lifebound flying sword from his crucial qi mansion. Then he caught the miniature flying sword between two fingers.

Zhong Chang's head punched a hole in the wall, and his lifebound flying sword had been stripped from him in an incredibly bizarre manner, leaving him momentarily stunned.

Chen Ping'an narrowed his eyes. "Good quality. In the Sword Qi Great Wall, the Summer Resort would rate it as B-class middle."

Pu Liu stared blankly at the scene.

A Golden Core sword immortal, with an added Mohist identity—against Sword Immortal Chen, he was like a chick. A mismatch was inevitable, but could Zhong Chang at least put up a bit of resistance?

Chen Ping'an asked, "What's the flying sword's name?"

Zhong Chang said slowly, "Evil Posthumous Title."

Chen Ping'an understood. "You credit-seller really know how to do business."

Several of those Ma family youths were indeed very promising candidates for posthumous titles from the court.

Zhong Chang said, "Lord Chen is relying on his cultivation realm to do as he pleases, fearless and unconstrained?"

Chen Ping'an asked, "Does a private posthumous title count?"

Zhong Chang shook his head.

Chen Ping'an said, "Oh, so I was wrong. This flying sword's quality is very low—doesn't even qualify for the Summer Resort's C-class."

Zhong Chang said, "I know very well that Lord Chen was the last Hidden Officer of the Sword Qi Great Wall, in charge of the Summer Resort. So you don't need to keep reminding me of that identity; it doesn't scare me."

"Interesting way to put it. You and I are both sword cultivators—do we need to scare people with our mouths?"

Chen Ping'an increased the pressure between his fingers. The flying sword "Evil Posthumous Title" began to show signs of snapping in half. The sword cultivator Zhong Chang, whose dao was connected, immediately felt his soul shaken and tortured.

Zhong Chang's expression shifted slightly.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "When I was scaring sword cultivators like Li Zhen and Liu Bai on the city wall back then, passing the time by teasing them, you were still cleaning toilets in the Ma mansion."

Zhong Chang looked at his lifebound flying sword, which had already developed a crack.

Chen Ping'an said, "Mentioning the Sword Qi Great Wall and the Summer Resort is to remind you how to save yourself. For example, by telling me you once went to the Sword Qi Great Wall or something."

Zhong Chang said, "I went there when I was young."

Chen Ping'an was momentarily speechless. After a pause, he cursed under his breath.

Zhong Chang said, "Doesn't the Hidden Officer want to verify the truth?"

Chen Ping'an couldn't be bothered to reply. He simply released his fingers and returned the flying sword.

Zhong Chang put the sword into his lifebound qi mansion to nurture and refine it. He took a pill from his sleeve, threw it into his mouth, and chewed slowly. "I remember Mi Yu was still at the Infant realm then, nicknamed 'Mi the Waist-cutter.' I saw him draw his sword from a distance on the battlefield—he lived up to his reputation."

Chen Ping'an waved his hand. "We'll settle that account later. You can leave the Yuxuan Kingdom's capital now. As for the debt the Ma family of Apricot Flower Lane owes you, collect it however you see fit."

Zhong Chang asked, "Just because I went to the Sword Qi Great Wall, the Sword Immortal Chen, on the verge of becoming mad, becomes so easy to talk to?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Old senior, with such a foul mouth, you must have been beaten up in the Sword Qi Great Wall, right?"

Zhong Chang said, "Until we meet again."

Chen Ping'an said, "No need."

Zhong Chang glanced at the two coffins in the main hall.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Are you going to plead for them? That's not impossible. Have you been to the Sword Qi Great Wall twice?"

Zhong Chang said, "If I remember correctly, there was a saying from back home that old folks often used to scare children: a long time ago, when a kiln encountered constant trouble, they would 'sacrifice' a pair of virgin boys and girls to the kiln fire. The porcelain fired from that kiln would be brighter."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "As expected of a sword cultivator who has been to the Sword Qi Great Wall."

Zhong Chang looked dazed. "Pity that I never got to say a word to the Great Sword Immortal."

The next moment, Zhong Chang had left the town, not returning to the original Ma mansion on Black Gauze Lane, but to a squalid alley near the Yongjia County government office.

Over at Apricot Flower Lane, Ma Yan and Qin Zheng, who had died and been revived a second time, were grabbed by the neck by Chen Ping'an and dragged all the way to the Golden Goose Kiln outside the town. He casually threw them into the kiln fire.

Just as Xiao Xing had revealed to Yu Qing about the heavenly secrets, Chen Ping'an had indeed meticulously constructed a series of illusionary worlds.

Roughly divided into Main Scrolls and Auxiliary Scrolls.

For example, Chen Ping'an had rebuilt a Sword Qi Great Wall.

This was a place Chen Ping'an traveled through repeatedly on his own. Besides the city, the private residences of sword immortals outside the city were also vividly present.

But this place had only mansions and streets, no people.

Huaihuang County town, but missing three places: Mud Vase Alley, the old school, and the Yang Family Medicine Shop.

A replica of the White Jade Capital.

The Ghost Realm Valley region of Beiju Continent.

Also a ruins of an immortal mansion from Beiju Continent, but missing the Taoist temple on the mountaintop. Chen Ping'an had named this place Pavilion Six.

A replica of the Yuxuan Kingdom capital. This construction owed its existence to the traveling Daoist Wu Di.

These were all in the Main Scrolls.

There were thirty-six Main Scroll worlds.

Earlier, when traveling with Xiao Mo through the Demon Suppression Tower on Indus Leaf Continent, he had seen twelve illusionary worlds borne by twelve parasol tree leaves.

These were all in the Auxiliary Scrolls.

Seventy-two in total.

The largest was the replica White Jade Capital with its five cities and twelve pavilions. But it was still very rough—in antique dealer's terms, "obviously fake at a glance."

The smallest was the Lu Duke Shrine, where Chen Ping'an and Lu Chen had once competed in acting. Because the area was small, it seemed more authentic than the original.

At a riverside fish market in a border prefecture of the Red Apricot Kingdom: it was the wedding night. Ma Bi lifted the red veil of that phoenix-crowned, brightly dressed beauty. He actually knew that his elder brother Ma Chuan also liked her, but she liked him. In such matters, one couldn't yield. The two brothers opened a martial arts school together. Besides earning some pocket money by taking disciples, they also took turns escorting goods caravans—a man without illicit wealth can't get rich. After more than a decade of hard work, each had built up a substantial family fortune. In recent years, the emperor was muddle-headed, the consort clan held power, and official positions were openly for sale. The people lived in dire straits, and traveling the jianghu was not easy. Colleagues often met with grim fates—dying in ditches, buried by the roadside. Just on his last escort, Ma Chuan turned back halfway. The martial arts school disciples serving as escorts were all ashen-faced. It turned out they had passed two rural villages littered with corpses, clearly killed by sharp weapons. Not only was Ma Chuan scared out of his wits, but Ma Bi's scalp crawled just hearing about it. The key point: according to Ma Chuan, the uncollected bones suggested the attackers were extremely well-trained, not ordinary bandits or rebels. The brothers privately agreed it might be time to move the whole family to the prefectural city. After all, there was a local saying: flee to the city for small disturbances, flee to the countryside for big ones. After all, no matter how chaotic the times became, surely it wouldn't reach the point of wars everywhere and soldiers in chaos, right?

One day, a caravan was heading to the prefectural city, taking the official road. A group of young martial arts school disciples escorted the goods. The leader was an old man called Shen Ke, a veteran of the school.

An arrow pierced the air and instantly went through Shen Ke's head. The old man, who normally could not be approached by a dozen young men, died on the spot and fell off his horse.

In the distance on the official road appeared a well-armored cavalry unit blocking the way. Someone sat high on a horse, took another arrow from his quiver, drew his bow to the full moon, and aimed at Ma Bi.

It seemed someone next to him said something. This time, the cavalry's arrows no longer targeted heads or chests; most accurately struck the abdomens or legs of Ma Bi's group.

Then the cavalry charged at full speed. Some drew their sabers and delivered finishing blows; others used long spears to stab shoulders and palms, still deliberately avoiding fatal injuries.

Ma Bi had his shoulder sliced off and his entire arm cut away. Blood gushed like a fountain. He staggered and saw his elder brother Ma Chuan get a spear thrust into his crotch. The rider, using the horse's momentum, carried Ma Chuan several zhang away. The next rider chopped off Ma Bi's remaining arm, and a third, skilled in archery and horsemanship, grabbed his topknot. Ma Bi's feet left the ground, and he was dragged backward. Looking at the gray sky, he thought: these murderous scoundrels—soldiers? This kind of world...

Before dying, Ma Chuan had only one obsession: if ghosts really existed in this world, then after becoming a vengeful spirit, he would take revenge on them.

The blue-robed maidservant named Chunwen, wearing a white horn-shaped hairpin, woodenly followed the old woman on horseback to her humble thatched cottage for a rest.

There, she saw a woman in a cloth skirt tidying up dishes and a man sitting at the table humming a little tune... Ma Chuan?!

Ma Chuan saw her, a different charm from his own wife. If they could share a bed... The thought made him warm inside. He began to show off indirectly, saying he was a tutor for the wealthy Master Zhao's household, a scholar with proper qualifications. Chunwen already disliked how Ma Chuan and another woman, Qiu-Yun, kept exchanging glances. Hearing the boasting of this Ma Chuan and seeing his improper, burning gaze, an unnamed anger flared in her heart. She brought her two fingers together like lightning and directly gouged out Ma Chuan's eyes.