Chapter 1091: Like a Dragon Walking Through a River

Chapter 1091: Like a Dragon Walking Through a River

At the border of the Hundred Thousand Mountains, an old man and a youth hovered on their flying swords, not daring to cross the line.

It was the deaf old man who had sneaked back to his hometown, and now spoke with his mind, asking if they could take shelter at the senior's Dao field and presumptuously discuss a matter.

But the blind old man didn't want to bother with him at all.

This was quite frustrating. He had taken the initiative to visit, only to be silently turned away. The deaf old man didn't dare to rashly trespass into this territory, so he could only stare helplessly.

Only when Ning Yao spoke up to plead for him did the deaf old man get to bring his disciple into this lifeless, barren land and land atop that solitary peak that seemed to be worshipped by the surrounding mountains.

The deaf old man's disciple, Youyu, was a swordsman from the Sword Qi Great Wall, on the verge of forming his golden core. His speed of breaking through was actually not slow, after all, he was a sword immortal seedling personally entrusted to the deaf old man by the Great Sword Immortal.

Ning Yao came out to receive the guests, accompanied by a sable-hatted girl with flushed cheeks, who let out a loud belch with abandon.

Back in the day on the Sword Qi Great Wall, in the prison overseen by the deaf old man, besides the prison officer Haosu who "drew a salary without working," there were two beings who looked like maidservants, Changming and Jiqing. They were respectively the incarnations of the ancestral coins of the world's Gold Essence Coins and Guyu Coins. Finally, with the "matchmaking" of the Great Sword Immortal, Haosu took on Du Shanyin as a disciple, while the deaf old man took Youyu as his disciple.

Ning Yao remembered something and asked, "Deaf old man, what's your name?"

Xie Gou, hearing this kind of opening line for a reunion after a long separation, felt that the Sword Qi Great Wall she had missed while sleeping was indeed full of affectionate customs.

But the deaf old man didn't mind. He grinned and said, "Miss Ning, if you hadn't asked, I would have almost forgotten my real name. It's Gantang, and there's an old Daoist title, 'Dragon's Roar.'"

He had been away from home for too long. His Dao field was Mount Fuyu in the Barren Wilderness, not famous, far inferior to places like Immortal Hairpin City or Great Mountain Green.

After the war ended, the Great Sword Immortal showed leniency, and the deaf old man, who had no merits but only hard work, was granted freedom. On this trip home, he didn't even dare to go see his Dao field, afraid of being caught. His life had indeed been miserable enough. At first, he couldn't resist the urging of an old friend and, thinking his sword skills were decent, went to test his strength against Chen Qingdu. The result was being conscripted by the Sword Qi Great Wall and made a prison warden. If he finally got out, only to be blocked by Chusheng or Feiran, wouldn't that be worse? Besides, he was dragging along a burden, which made things inconvenient. If he got into a fight with a Flying Ascension cultivator, he would inevitably be hampered. After all, the Great Sword Immortal had entrusted this disciple to him. If he lost his life in the Barren Wilderness, the deaf old man would feel guilty in his heart. This wasn't some pretentious sentiment. On the Sword Qi Great Wall, as an ancient monster of the Barren Wilderness, he managed to rank among the top ten sword immortals. That honor was unique in ten thousand years. For that alone, the deaf old man had to remember Chen Qingdu's kindness. Of course, if he could beat Chen Qingdu, that would be a different story.

Ning Yao and that young Hidden Official were truly a perfect match, two extremes in how they handled people and affairs.

A swordsman born and raised on the Sword Qi Great Wall didn't even know his name. An outsider, however, was familiar with the customs and practices of Mount Fuyu down to the smallest detail.

Youyu and Du Shanyin were the same age. Du Shanyin had never been convinced by Chen Ping'an, but Youyu regarded the young Hidden Official as an unattainable figure. Unfortunately, on this journey, following his master and hiding their tracks, he hadn't heard much news about Chen the Hidden Official.

Ning Yao asked curiously, "What are you doing here?"

Since the deaf old man had already returned to his homeland, why come here to court trouble? If a peak cultivator of the Confucian Mount who had attached himself to the Barren Wilderness for many years returned home, he might be drowned in spit. But in the Barren Wilderness, the deaf old man's experience might even be considered a beautiful story? After all, he had been one of the ten peak sword immortals on the Sword Qi Great Wall eligible to participate in city wall deliberations, and he was the only one who was an ancient monster swordsman.

The deaf old man laughed. "I want to find a stable place to settle down, no need to scheme and fight all the time, as if I'm constantly carrying my head on my belt. Miss Ning, do you have any suggestions?"

In the past, when the Barren Wilderness aggressively attacked the Confucian Mount, he had to stay on the Sword Qi Great Wall. Now that the Confucian Mount was launching a large-scale counterattack on the Barren Wilderness, would his situation be any different? The deaf old man felt it was too unfair.

Ning Yao understood and smiled. "Just say you want to go to the Multicolor Heaven."

The deaf old man took the hint and rubbed his hands together. "That would be great."

His first choice was naturally that Multicolor Heaven, which was under nobody's rule. When the door opened next time, cultivators from any world, regardless of identity or realm, could go there.

Then there was the Hundred Thousand Mountains. The only problem was the high threshold, after all, that blind old man didn't lack for thugs. Everyone knew what happened to Tao Ting.

His last choice was to go to Southern Bodhi Continent and rely on Qi Tingji, living it up at the Dragon Elephant Sword Sect. That probably wouldn't be difficult, but deep down, the deaf old man wasn't particularly willing to be a hanger-on for someone nicknamed "Qi, the Road Warrior." So if he had a choice, swapping Qi Tingji for Dong San'geng would be best; they would definitely hit it off.

Ning Yao asked, "Ever thought about going to Fallen Mountain?"

The scrawny, sallow-faced deaf old man wrinkled his face in extreme discomfort. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head vigorously. "No, no. I can't go, I can't go. My ancient monster identity is too sensitive. On our Sword Qi Great Wall, it's fine, but if I go to Fallen Mountain in Vase Bottle Prefecture, it would easily get the Hidden Official scolded for nothing."

Even knowing that Miss Ning was the young Hidden Official's sweetheart, the deaf old man dared not say a single polite word on this matter.

That kid was even more deep than Qi Tingji, with such a heavy heart for a young man. Dealing with him, wouldn't he have to be on tenterhooks every day? Besides, Fallen Mountain was clearly a place of trouble. He was trying to avoid trouble by leaving the Barren Wilderness; why would he jump into a fire pit? Chatting idly with Chen Ping'an was certainly interesting, but working under him was out of the question. Who knows how many sages of the Literary Temple and various factions had their eyes on Fallen Mountain and Chen Ping'an, who bore the title of Hidden Official? If he went, where would be the freedom? He might as well not even fart under the covers for fear of it being recorded.

The blind old man walked out of the thatched hut with his hands behind his back. "Don't be ungrateful."

Ning Yao was a bit puzzled. She had just mentioned it casually; she remembered that senior Zhici didn't have any particular connection with Chen Ping'an.

Gantang couldn't tell what this old Fourteen Realm cultivator's intentions were.

Xie Gou, loving chaos, fanned the flames from the side. "Judging by the attitude and tone, it seems this senior looks down on our Fallen Mountain?"

Gantang couldn't see through the skill level of this sable-hatted girl and asked dubiously, "May I ask, friend, who are you?"

Xie Gou put on a straight face and said, "I am the newly appointed capable assistant of the Mountain Lord, a nominal offering elder with a front-row seat in the Jicui Peak Ancestral Hall."

The blind old man scoffed. "Ancient monster identity? What does that matter? For example, she is Bai Jing, one of the old fellows awakened by Bai Ze. Who would dare to criticize Chen Ping'an? Besides, in Fallen Mountain now, besides Bai Jing, there's that ancient swordsman from the Barren Wilderness who used to brew wine with Bixiao Cave Lord at Luobao Beach, now going by the alias Mosheng. Hah, if we add you, friend Gantang, wouldn't the whole mountain be filled with heroes gathering for a grand event, with Flying Ascension cultivators everywhere? One ancient monster brings scolding, two bring fear, but three would bring respect to Fallen Mountain!"

The blind old man kept saying "ancient monster," though he thankfully didn't add the suffix "beast."

Gantang's expression shifted slightly. He carefully glanced at the sable-hatted girl. Good heavens, could it be that infamous old hag from ancient times who loved to steal people's Dao titles?

As for that ancient swordsman who changed his name to "Mosheng," he wasn't exactly unknown—a guy who loved to fight, and more importantly, he heard that this senior had a habit of challenging only those he couldn't beat. A true hero!

How did they all end up at Fallen Mountain?

The Hidden Official was really good at poaching people.

The blind old man reminded him, "A golden opportunity is right in front of you. If you miss it, it's gone. Hmm?"

Gantang immediately changed his mind and went with the flow. "I can go, I can go! How could I not go? Fallen Mountain is the Hidden Official's Dao field, not a mountain of swords or a sea of fire. Good thing!"

Senior, you've laid down the law. If I don't go to Fallen Mountain, I'm afraid I'll come to the Hundred Thousand Mountains but never leave, ending up worse than Tao Ting.

And if Bai Jing and that Mosheng are there to take the heat, this matter could actually be negotiable? Just the opportunity to spar with them would be worth more than money. The Great Sword Immortal had once privately given him a sword manual, but due to his ancient monster identity, even with years of painstaking study, he had gained little. But Bai Jing and Mosheng were proper ancient monster swordsmen, kindred spirits. If he could exchange Dao techniques and sword arts with them in Fallen Mountain... that would be a good thing!

The blind old man nodded. "Miss Ning, let Gantang be a mountain-guarding offering elder at Fallen Mountain. Consider it a congratulatory gift I'm giving you in advance."

Gantang grimaced. What terrible luck. Sold off just like that? Being an offering elder and a mountain-guarding offering elder were two different things! The latter was tied to the fortune of the Dao field.

The blind old man asked, "Friend Gantang, from your expression and tone, it seems you're not entirely willing?"

Gantang felt a chill hearing himself addressed as "friend."

The blind old man mocked, "At the very least, you're a peak Flying Ascension cultivator, sneaking around with a disciple like a thief. Aren't you ashamed?"

Gantang said respectfully, "Senior's reprimand is correct."

Fortunately, Ning Yao smiled and said, "No need to be a mountain-guarding offering elder. Fallen Mountain doesn't lack for that. Senior just needs to stay there for about eighty years. When the door opens, you can go to Multicolor Heaven and establish your own sect. Of course, if Senior is willing, you could also take a nominal easy job at Flying Ascension City. No problem at all. You're very welcome."

Gantang was relieved. "No need to establish a sect. That's not interesting. After I do my small part at Fallen Mountain, I'll resign my position, drop the burden, and wander around Multicolor Heaven. I'll be a carefree mountain hermit. At most, I'll pick and choose along the way, helping Youyu find a few more junior brothers."

The blind old man, seeing that Ning Yao and Gantang had settled matters, added, "Gantang, when you get to Vase Bottle Prefecture, remember to keep an eye on my disciple."

Gantang was baffled.

Li Huai had recently gone down the mountain with that fox spirit to wander around some ferry port.

Ning Yao explained, "His name is Li Huai, a Confucian disciple. His hometown is in a small town near Fallen Mountain. He is the carefully selected founding disciple of my grandfather Zhici. Tao Ting is now Li Huai's protector."

Gantang sincerely sighed, "This kid is so fortunate to be able to become Senior's disciple."

The sable-hatted girl was mischievous, holding back her laughter. She was well aware of the dynamics between master and disciple; it was hard to say who was the grandfather and who was the grandson.

The blind old man put a hand on Gantang's shoulder and chuckled, "So fortunate? Sounds like you're envious? In that case, why not stay here and be my unregistered disciple? I won't consider you a personal disciple, but you can call Li Huai 'senior brother.' A pie falling from the sky, right at your mouth. Just open it. Eat or not?"

Gantang gave a dry laugh, which was his answer.

The blind old man instructed, "Gantang, before you go to Vase Bottle Prefecture, first help protect Li Huai for a while. As compensation, if you offend any Fourteen Realm cultivator in the future, if you can escape, come here. If you can't escape and know you're going to die, tell them you're under my protection. Let them think about whether they want to kill you and if it's worth trading their life for yours."

Though Gantang had doubts, unsure if the blind old man could really take down a cultivator of the same realm, this oral promise was truly a pie falling from the sky.

Without hesitation, Gantang quickly clasped his fists and thanked him repeatedly.

The blind old man, though his eye sockets were empty, seemed to see through Gantang's thoughts. "Do you think I'm boasting? Outside the Hundred Thousand Mountains, it's not hard to defeat a Fourteen Realm cultivator in a fight, but killing one is very difficult?"

Gantang didn't dare deny it, as that would be treating the blind old man as truly blind. He steeled himself and told the truth, "I dare not deceive Senior. The toughness and difficulty of killing a Fourteen Realm cultivator are widely acknowledged facts for ten thousand years."

The blind old man laughed. "There are always exceptions. If you don't believe me, when the time comes, let your disciple burn paper at your grave and advise you to rest in peace in the underworld. Then he can explain what the exception is."

Gantang said awkwardly, "Senior, rest assured. I won't casually provoke a Fourteen Realm cultivator just because I have your protection."

The blind old man said disdainfully, "After the rain clears, those new Fourteen Realm cultivators are all watered down."

Gantang didn't dare to respond.

The blind old man laughed. "Of course, Miss Ning is an exception."

Ning Yao accepted this with a clear conscience.

Atop the high mountain, there were now two Fourteen Realm cultivators and two Flying Ascension swordsmen.

And of course, a golden core swordsman, Youyu.

When Youyu left his hometown, he was still a youth. Now he looked like a young man, head taller than his master, the deaf old man.

Youyu had long looked forward to the young Hidden Official's Fallen Mountain. He was a completely different character from his peer Du Shanyin.

Actually, he knew in his heart that his master was not entirely satisfied with him. When his master occasionally looked at him, there was undisguised irritation and disdain.

Youyu bore no resentment. His talent was mediocre, his sword training slow. No wonder his master looked down on him.

But to say he would let his master simply abandon him somewhere and go their separate ways, Youyu wasn't that foolish. He wouldn't dare say such hurtful words.

This trip to the Hundred Thousand Mountains had an unexpected result. Youyu was in a fairly good mood. After wandering around for a few years, was he finally going to see the Hidden Official again? Would he even have the chance to become a member of the Hidden Official's sect?

Ning Yao smiled. "You're Youyu, right? Chen Ping'an often mentions you. He says you're hardworking, have a good heart, and have found a good master. As long as you show the aptitude and perseverance that Old Deaf recognizes, he won't be stingy. He'll be willing to teach you everything he knows. Just take it step by step, climb higher steadily, and your future sword path achievements won't be low."

Youyu was nervous. He was naturally not good with words and didn't know how to respond.

After all, the woman before him was Ning Yao.

Upon hearing this, Gantang was very gratified. Ning Yao never spoke falsely. Since she said so, it must be true.

Unexpectedly, that Hidden Official understood his temperament so well. Yes, when he taught sword techniques and Dao methods, he only gave his disciple Youyu what was "due" at his current realm—no more, no less. The disciple had to earn it from the master with real skill.

Ning Yao looked out at the magnificent scene of mountains beyond mountains stretching endlessly. She took a deep breath.

The blind old man said he wouldn't entertain guests and told Gantang and his disciple to immediately go to that ferry port to find Li Huai.

He believed that by the time Li Huai returned home, Fallen Mountain would have an additional nominal offering elder, a Flying Ascension swordsman.

After Gantang and Youyu took their leave, two streaks of sword light added a bit of color to the dead, desolate land.

The blind old man asked, "Planning to return to the Confucian Mount?"

Ning Yao nodded. "I'm going back."

The blind old man was silent for a moment, then said, "Successfully breaking through to the Fourteen Realm is no small matter. Congratulations. Chen Qingdu never doubted you could become a Fourteenth Realm cultivator, but even he probably didn't expect it to come so quickly. If he could see it with his own eyes, he'd probably laugh himself silly and can't help but show off to me a few times. Those who can be called old acquaintances are few and far between. Among those acquaintances, those who can be called friends are even rarer."

"Ning Yao, back when you ran away from home to travel the Confucian Mount alone, Chen Qingdu actually arranged for a swordsman to secretly follow you. Whether it was Nalan Yexing or someone else, maybe it was a visiting sword immortal from the Sword Qi Great Wall. I'm not sure who exactly. I didn't bother asking Chen Qingdu about it. He only said the arrangement was quite discreet and he didn't plan to tell you about it. In the end, Chen Qingdu was still worried that you might be wronged or schemed against over there. But that unknown swordsman followed you until he stopped near Lizhu Cave Heaven. After that, Chen Qingdu had me take over."

Back then, when Ning Yao was in Lizhu Cave Heaven, because of that mud-legged kid from the small town, she had been in danger, and the blind old man had almost intervened.

If he hadn't, Chen Qingdu would definitely have intervened. And it would have been twice—rules be damned, regardless of what the Literary Temple thought. And of course, Chen Qingdu would have raised a ruckus in the Hundred Thousand Mountains. Ugly face, big temper.

Ning Yao said, "Chen Ping'an said that at first he guessed the secret protector was Lu Zhi from the Confucian Mount, but the timing didn't match up. Later, he thought it was most likely the itinerant cultivator from Central Earth Divine Continent, the female sword immortal Jiang Fu, Immortal realm. This person has always been a lone wanderer, with an unpredictable whereabouts. What this sword immortal is most famous for is her collection of a considerable number of gourd wine vessels for nurturing swords."

The blind old man had never heard such a name and asked doubtfully, "How did that kid figure it out? Did the Summer Resort Palace have records? Or is it that this surnamed Jiang's swordsmanship is very famous on your Sword Qi Great Wall?"

If Chen Ping'an could guess that Ning Yao had someone secretly protecting her during her Confucian Mount journey, that was nothing. But if Chen Ping'an knew the background of the protector so clearly, the blind old man truly didn't believe it. Chen Qingdu did things rather carefully.

Ning Yao squinted and smiled. "The Summer Resort Palace does have archives, but she used a pseudonym at the time, so Chen Ping'an couldn't possibly find the truth from that alone. When Jiang Fu was on the Sword Qi Great Wall, she was withdrawn and kept a low profile. She barely drew her sword; it was more like she was there to observe. Jiang Fu didn't interact much with people, but she had a peculiarity—she loved to drink. It could be said she was addicted to alcohol. Three meals of wine a day, unshakable, like eating."

"Before Chen Ping'an left home for the first time, he obtained a medium-quality gourd wine vessel for nurturing swords from Wei Bo. At the time, Wei Bo said it was from the Great Li Dynasty's inventory. He had taken the liberty of converting five treasures into that vessel. The inscription on the bottom of that vermilion gourd was 'Jiang Hu,' which sounds like 'rivers and lakes.' Chen Ping'an was already drinking then, so he naturally took a liking to it at first sight. Coupled with his trust in Wei Bo's judgment, he had no reason not to accept it. During his several travels, Chen Ping'an had been quite attentive to gourd wine vessels. And in Jiang Fu's hometown, the local accent doesn't distinguish between 'Fu' and 'Hu.' Plus, as a female sword immortal, she was indeed more suitable to be my secret protector. I reckon Jiang Fu stopped outside Lizhu Cave Heaven at the time, didn't immediately leave the Great Li Dynasty, and remained hidden in the shadows. When the situation became clear, she used that gourd as a gift, finding a way through the Great Li Song clan or the National Master Cui Chan, using the mountain lord Wei Bo's hand, to give it to Chen Ping'an without leaving a trace. That gourd was neither too precious nor too shabby, just right."

The blind old man nodded. "Twists and turns, all schemes. A frog at the bottom of a well, jumping out. For Chen Ping'an to reach this point, untangling a mess of threads, is truly not easy."

Remembering something, the blind old man cautioned, "A debt must be paid, it's only natural. Miss Ning, don't forget that back then at the Immortal Tomb, you made a promise to the Dragon-Slaying Altar at the foot of a certain deity statue. If you have spare funds, settle it sooner rather than later. Don't delay."

Ning Yao nodded. "I've been paying attention. I'll settle it when I get back this time."

The blind old man rubbed his chin. "What a fine 'Bodhisattva nodding in agreement' from an unwitting phrase. That mud-legged kid, though he's never spent a day in school, seems to have words of sudden wisdom at every critical moment, catching others off guard."

Ning Yao said, "I heard from Chen Ping'an that there's a record in the Buddhist Lamp Transmission of a question and answer: 'What is a wonderful phrase?' 'When water flows, the channel is formed.'"

The blind old man asked, "Still remember your first meeting with Zhao Xiao?"

Ning Yao nodded. "At the time, I only mistook that schoolboy beside Mr. Qi for a gossipy youth. It wasn't until later, when Zhao Xiao obtained a quarter of Bai Ye's immortal sword 'Tai Bai,' that I realized he had already been a sword immortal's seed before leaving his hometown. So, what he said so unguardedly under the archway at that time—was it perhaps some kind of attraction with my natal flying sword?"

The blind old man chuckled. "The truth is more complicated than that. Chen Ping'an has such a sharp mind; hasn't he said a few words to you about it?"

Ning Yao shook her head with a smile. "Chen Ping'an isn't interested in talking about this fellow lineage nephew much."

The blind old man said, "According to a pre-set hidden line and someone's mountain calculations, you were originally supposed to have more interactions with the swordsman Zhao Xiao in Lizhu Cave Heaven. If the two of you had truly gotten together, it would have been a match made in heaven that even the Sword Qi Great Wall could reluctantly accept. You need to know that one of the five major public opportunities of the small town, Zhao Xiao's five elements being wood, was for the 'finishing touch' on a certain paperweight. And the way you unlocked one of your natal flying swords was by 'opening your eyes.' If it weren't for Chen Ping'an's appearance, the outsider who would have gone to the Sword Qi Great Wall to establish merits might have been Zhao Xiao, who first went to the seaside solitary island to learn swordsmanship from Bai Ye. The prison officer Haosu would have come out of seclusion, playing a role similar to Zuo You for his junior brother Chen Ping'an, helping Zhao Xiao gain a foothold there."

Ning Yao's eyes were firm, her tone calm. "Such arrangements, no matter how clever, still have to ask my heart if it agrees."

On the night ferry, the prison officer Haosu, feeling he owed the Hidden Official a great debt, had indeed told Chen Ping'an an extremely shocking inside story.

The blind old man laughed. "What? You didn't like Zhao Xiao at first sight? Did you like Chen Ping'an at first sight? Without Chen Ping'an butting in, how can you be sure you wouldn't have bickered and bantered with Zhao Xiao and become a couple of sweethearts?"

Ning Yao's face darkened. "That's disgusting."

If someone heard that, Zhao Xiao would be in for a rough time.

Thinking about it, she found it amusing.

The blind old man laughed heartily. Rarely, besides his disciple Li Huai, he was in such a good mood.

Ning Yao said, "Back in Mud Vase Alley, before Chen Ping'an started practicing boxing, he had already done many things that only he could do to this day, and said things only he dared to say. I believe in him!"

Although in front of Chen Ping'an, in front of Granny Bai, even in front of good friends like Diezhang, Ning Yao was unwilling to admit one thing—who liked whom first between her and Chen Ping'an—she knew that if it came down to it, she had indeed liked Chen Ping'an earlier. Was Chen Ping'an, this blockhead when it came to romance, slow on the uptake?

The blind old man scratched his thinning head. "Who was it who said that cultivators should stay away from the mortal world, live in seclusion in the mountains, and once love and hatred arise, a hundred distractions sprout, and the Dao heart retreats?"

Ning Yao said nothing.

The blind old man said, "Miss Ning, I might say something you don't want to hear. It's unlikely for Chen Ping'an to catch up to Cao Ci in martial arts."

Ning Yao said, "It is indeed extremely difficult to surpass Cao Ci in martial arts. The possibility is minuscule."

But Ning Yao quickly added, "A year's difference from childhood leads to a lifetime's discrepancy in old age."

The blind old man couldn't help but laugh. "Isn't that a bit of a flimsy excuse?"

Ning Yao smiled. "At the wine shop, countless swordsmen felt that the second manager's words were extremely reasonable and truly heartfelt."

Every realm of drunken sword cultivator drinking at that small wine shop felt that this comforting saying hit right where it hurt.

One by one, they had an epiphany. So that's why our swordsmanship can't compare to those bastards, Qi Shanglu, Dong San'geng, and the others—because we're still young!

Xie Gou said she would stay here for a few more days, so Ning Yao rode her sword alone and traveled far. The sword light passed the gate where the Sword Qi Great Wall and Inverted Suspense Mountain no longer stood, and she returned to the Confucian Mount.

The blind old man walked back into the house with his hands behind his back. Xie Gou rubbed her sable hat and said, "I've been thinking these past few days, racking my brains, and I still can't figure out which sword path I should take. Do you have any good suggestions?"

The blind old man said, "You're asking the wrong person. I'm not a swordsman. If Chen Qingdu were still around, you could ask him."

Xie Gou started to sway, waving her sleeves and mumbling something. The blind old man couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing?"

Xie Gou said seriously, "In the common folk of the Confucian Mount, I often see this kind of shamanistic spirit-summoning. Sometimes it works."

The blind old man said irritably, "Nonsense."

After Xie Gou caused a ruckus, she also found it boring. Listlessly, she followed the blind old man into the thatched hut's hall, found a long bench to lie on, used her sable hat as a pillow, crossed her legs, lightly swung one foot, and said lazily, "Zhici, I think you're quite pitiable."

The blind old man didn't refute as usual. Instead, he nodded. "I appreciate the feeling."

Xie Gou chuckled. "I thought you were going to get angry and kick me out. I was already prepared to pack up and scram."

The blind old man said to himself, "Cultivating and cultivating, what do you seek? It's nothing more than the waves at the bottom of the boat, the peak underfoot. But if you stop there, it's nothing special."

Xie Gou pressed, "Then you, who have already reached the Fourteen Realm, what do you think you should do to be truly extraordinary?"

The blind old man murmured, "One man builds bridges and paves roads, and ten thousand people follow safely."

— —

Outside the small temple, the "old man" who cherished writing crouched at the door, burning a basket of waste paper. All the ashes piled up in a brazier.

Yu Shiwu, who had recalled his "former life," asked curiously, "Have you ever traveled to the White Paper Blessed Land?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "Always wanted to go. When I first returned to the Confucian Mount, I was busy with my own affairs and never had the chance. Later, when I had free time and resumed being a hands-off shopkeeper, I would definitely go see it while traveling in Central Earth Divine Continent."

Yu Shiwu frowned. "When can I restore my true appearance?"

Chen Ping'an teased, "Tired of being small?"

But Yu Shiwu didn't catch the double meaning. "It's okay if I hadn't remembered. Now that I've recalled my memory, I feel a bit uncomfortable."

Chen Ping'an just said something completely off-topic. "It's almost dawn."

By then, they could wake from their dreams.

When they all woke up one by one, they would retain most of their dream memories. The overlapping of each life's memories was actually the constant layering of the seven emotions and six desires. Earlier, in the deep courtyards and strictly hierarchical Ma Mansion, when they looked at another person, limited by their respective identities and horizons, some saw deeply, some shallowly. The deep ones were obsequious to superiors, sweet-talking, harsh to inferiors, hiding knives behind smiles, playing the villain both sides, while the jealous types, shrews, and arrogant women... Perhaps before, confined by identities and environments, it was difficult for anyone to truly recognize the real intentions of those around them or even their pillow partners. But when each entered their dreams, all the subtleties of the human heart, personality traits, things they dared not think or do before, words they dared not say or ought not to say, all found a place to fully unfold. The final result was that all the dark sides of human nature were exposed one by one through these "dreams." There is nothing new under the sun.

Chen Ping'an had begun to set up a complete reversal of status—high and low, noble and base—for the members of the Ma family and the outsiders in the mansion. The maids and servants in the mansion became the masters making decisions. The pampered Ma family disciples, those noble cultivators, and the security forces who enjoyed steady incomes and lavish spending all degenerated into lowly servants. He planned to gradually gather them into a certain story, where their joys and sorrows, loves and hates, life and death, honor and disgrace would all converge. It was like drawing in a net to herd fish, driving all the fish from rivers, lakes, streams, ditches, and mountain pools into a single net. Each background of the illusionary realms was a "book" of varying thickness. Then the mountain gods, emperors, generals, ministers, high officials, noble lords, martial artists, peddlers, matchmakers, etc., in different stories—all kinds of people—were compressed into one book, so they could live together day and night, and finally, at the moment of waking, look at each other face to face.

Chen Ping'an said, "Someone once said that the true extent to which we perceive the world largely depends on the depth of our memory."

Yu Shiwu asked, "Who is this 'someone'?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Far away in the horizon, close at hand."

Yu Shiwu asked a key question out of curiosity. "To sustain the operation of these dreams and ensure they can fool people, it must not only consume mental energy but also quite a bit of spiritual energy and immortal money, right?"

Chen Ping'an gave a rather meaningful answer. "Easy to say. It's not like the benefits are going to outsiders."

Yu Shiwu asked doubtfully, "With all this trouble, what benefit does it bring to your cultivation?"

Chen Ping'an said, "I need their thoughts, their musings, their words, the subtle changes in their expressions and eyes, the trajectories of their actions as they are drawn, driven, and finally put into practice by events. These things make these illusionary realms more substantial and make a small world more real."

"The Consciousness-Only School says all dharmas arise from the mind, and the mind gives rise to all dharmas. No wonder on that courier station road in Handan, you brought up seeds and perfuming cultivation for no apparent reason. It was foreshadowing. At the time, I thought you were just being deliberately mysterious, showing off your extensive knowledge."

"The people of the Ma Mansion who were drawn into my illusionary heaven and earth are different from those 'local natives.' The actions and words of the former are autonomous, not arranged, predetermined, or rigid. I just provided everyone with an invisible slate for carving words. As for what kind of life story each eventually composes, they are all... travelers walking on certain fixed roads. Then each will pave new and different roads. And these roads... are like the trees here: the predecessors plant trees, and the descendants enjoy the shade."

"Why are you willing to reveal the heavenly secrets to me?"

"Because you are somewhat different from the people of the Ma Mansion. You are both the kind of people who, once they come, don't leave."

First came Xiao Xing of the Barren Wilderness, then the cook of the Ma Mansion's kitchen. Now Yu Shiwu was the third. Each had a great use.

Yu Shiwu asked, "Are you so confident you can trap me? Detain me here from start to finish? Not afraid of censure from the True Martial Mountain or the Literary Temple?"

Chen Ping'an curled his lip in mockery. "Why would a smart person deliberately say stupid things? I don't believe you'll just accept your fate."

The last time he encountered someone similar was the black-robed scholar in the Ghost Valley, who had been cut away as a three-corpse by Young Heavenly Lord Yang Ningxing.

Yu Shiwu fell silent. He clearly still had questions but didn't voice them.

Chen Ping'an took the initiative to give a vague answer. "A certain existence whose true name and identity I can't yet disclose gave me the grace of a single punch's Dao transmission over at Tungye Prefecture. That's why I'm willing to risk universal condemnation and first repay you half a punch's grace."

Yu Shiwu asked, "What can I do?"

Chen Ping'an gave an even vaguer answer. "Here, you few are the future roads and rivers, the shade and the ferry."

Yu Shiwu probed, "Was the Ma couple's coming to seek revenge just your means of fooling the world?"

Chen Ping'an slowly turned his head and coldly looked at Yu Shiwu.

Yu Shiwu fell silent in fear. A successful upper-fifth-realm cultivator with a nearly perfect Dao heart actually felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

Using Ma Che and the ghost scholar Guan Kui as catalysts, Chen Ping'an the "Heavenly Lord" began to formally intervene in the storylines within these illusions.

Heavy night. The old woman got up to open the door. The green-clad maidservant Chunwen, wearing a white horn crown, coldly looked at the traveler knocking on the door. He was a heroic-looking man with a large beard and a saber.

She was the most tenacious among Ma Yuemei's maids. The ranger got straight to the point. "Self-righteous stubbornness is a double-edged sword."

Chunwen sneered. "Is that all Sword Immortal Chen has to offer?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Still, you've read too little and your horizons are too narrow."

Chunwen's voice was cold and hard. "I admit it. I must admit it. In terms of learning, I am but a lowly maid in the Ma Mansion. Naturally, I cannot compare to a sage's disciple with transcendent talent. In terms of experience, I dare not speak of myself alongside a young Hidden Official."

The blade light flashed. The woman's neck felt cold, and her head flew high. In the void, she only heard the man's words: "Since you've accumulated grievances for a long time, always resenting your humble birth, believing since childhood that a man's lofty ambition cannot be realized without luck, that on the path of life you must first meet a nobleman before you can rise, then I'll send you some experiences and history you couldn't even dream of, and let you see the fate of another version of yourself. Later, look back and see if this principle holds true."

Shen Ke, who was being pursued and besieged by hundreds of thousands of "Shen Ke" copies throughout the entire capital, had fallen into the perilous situation of ants gnawing on an elephant. Because the capital was folded up like paper, his room for maneuvering was limited, and the geographical space became increasingly cramped. This made the old grandmaster, who was already at the bottleneck of the Golden Body realm, simply kill until he vomited. Later, Shen Ke relied purely on instinct.

With his position as the center, corpses lay everywhere, blood flowed, and severed limbs could be seen everywhere. He had killed his way to a river outside the imperial palace, turning it crimson. Fortunately, because those crazy "Shen Ke" were all unarmed and unskilled mortals, he still managed to cut a bloody path. While killing, he also had to save himself, because Shen Ke had to find one person. Before leaving, Sword Immortal Chen had said that Heaven never leaves anyone without a way out and had left Shen Ke a glimmer of hope. He told him the key to solving the puzzle: in this capital, find the only "Shen Ke" that didn't exist. Kill this person, and Shen Ke could escape the predicament and see the light of day. But if Shen Ke ran out of strength midway and was beaten to death by the mob, everything would start over. It was this hope and longing that sustained Shen Ke as he scurried around everywhere, through the capital's streets and alleys, rich houses and poor lanes, government offices and shops, brothels and hidden bordellos, even checking the faces of people squatting in latrines, afraid of missing that glimmer of hope. No one knew how long passed. The old grandmaster, covered in wounds, fought his way into a magnificent courtyard. Auspicious clouds lingered, and strangely shaped rocks were translucent. Under a golden canopy held high and fluttering in the wind stood a woman in palace attire, dressed in yellow.

It seemed there was a hint of a hen crowing at dawn.

When Shen Ke saw the woman's face, it was finally no longer his own visage. Overwhelmed with joy and sorrow, he almost burst into tears. Found! He had finally found the right person!

As for the woman's face, he vaguely remembered it as the maid of the Ma Mansion, "Chunwen." He had even taught her a few moves of swordsmanship in the early years. At this moment, Shen Ke didn't care to think about this anymore.

Shen Ke threw away his broken saber with its curled edge, looked around, and shouted hoarsely, almost in tears, "Sword Immortal Chen, I found it! Found it!"

The female emperor, around thirty, exclaimed with a harsh expression, "Traitor! Relying on your martial arts, you dare to rebel! Surrender and accept your execution!"

Shen Ke was stunned. He almost couldn't help grabbing his knife and hacking this woman to death. The old man held back the intense pain all over his body, raised a hand to wipe the blood from his face. The tension earlier hadn't made him feel it much, but now with a slight relaxation, the pain made his liver and gallbladder tremble. Just then, from behind the exquisite canopy, an elderly man in a green robe walked out. He had a long, pure white beard that hung straight down like a waterfall from a high cliff, giving him an ethereal, immortal appearance.

Shen Ke was overjoyed. In an instant, tears streamed down his face. He staggered forward a few steps. "Sword Immortal Chen, as agreed..."

The "old immortal" stroked his beard and laughed. "Words to deceive you—why take them seriously?"

The "old immortal," respectfully called the National Teacher by the female emperor, clearly intended to renege. In an instant, with a flick of his sleeve, the long knife on the ground pierced Shen Ke's chest, creating a hole.

Shen Ke fell to the ground, dead but not at peace. In the next moment, he was back on the White Jade Bridge outside the palace. Shen Ke stood again, and countless Shen Ke once again swarmed from all directions.

Shen Ke was speechless. After endless years of ghost haunting, trapped in this prison, unable to escape, finally seeing a glimmer of hope, only to find it was all a deception?

He didn't even have the spirit to curse. He closed his eyes. That woman was right. He stood there, waiting for death.

In the courtyard, the female emperor of the Ma clan, who had listened behind the curtain for years before usurping the throne, suddenly felt a headache. She pressed her forehead, and memories flooded in like a tide, as if her head had been pried open.

The old true man smiled. "When you were twelve, I once read your fortune. I told you then that fame, fortune, wealth, and honor were all external things. It's a pity that when mortals see these things, they risk their lives to seek them, and when they get them, they find them tasteless."

"You naturally didn't believe it then. Now that you've been a female emperor you never dared to dream of, how does it taste? If you had a chance to start over, would you still agree to enter the palace through the selection, or would you follow that itinerant Daoist to cultivate the pure and desireless immortal arts on the mountain? Or would you elope with your lover, leave home, roam the world, and uphold chivalry? Or would you be an ordinary person with a stable life, opening your door every day to the daily necessities?"

"Yes, having been an emperor, you seek immortality. That's human nature."

"Those who cultivate the Dao, see the true immortal. The first 'see' is in luck, the second 'see' is in oneself."

The same four characters, the word "see" used with two meanings: "to see" and "to understand."

The old immortal smiled. "How many foolish people can't see through? Life is like water under ice."

As the last word of this immortal-like old man settled, in an instant, the woman seemed to see a bright moon rising from the sea, as if suddenly leaping out of the water, illuminating everything in heaven and earth like ten thousand hectares of colored glaze. High branches slept crows, shallow banks rested herons. All was silent.

Somewhere else, on the official road outside the prefectural city, a well-armed cavalry unit, in broad daylight, suddenly killed a group of martial arts school members. None survived. The deaths were tragic: most of the dead were seasoned wanderers who were used to escorting goods, yet they were killed in an instant, without any chance to fight back. Many of the bodies had holes where arrows had been pulled out. The government coroners would be busy. Reporting this incident would be a huge headache for the governor. In broad daylight, on a gloomy, ghostly road, "Ma Chuan" stared blankly at himself lying in a pool of blood. His crotch had been mangled by an iron spear. Beside him, "Ma Bi" looked at the dead man with disheveled hair and a missing arm. The brothers took a long time to come to their senses, looked at each other, and didn't know what to do. They remembered from books that when a person dies, Black and White Impermanence or Ox-Head and Horse-Face would come to escort the soul, go through the Ghost Gate, walk the Yellow Spring Road, and drink Mengpo's soup. They didn't know if it was true or false.

Just then, the ghost Ma Chuan was the first to notice a young man in Daoist robes, slowly walking around a horse that was lingering in place. The Daoist looked at him. The Daoist didn't seem alarmed to see a ghost. He just didn't stop walking, casually kicking aside a knife on the road with his toe. Seeing this, Ma Chuan couldn't help asking, "Are you also a ghost?"

The young Daoist chuckled, his expression indifferent. "Unlike you, I'm a living person. I've just cultivated a bit of immortal techniques, so I can see you wandering souls. Just passing by."

Ma Bi clenched his fists, furious. "Since you, Daoist, are an immortal master, why, when you passed by, didn't you save us?"

The itinerant Daoist smiled. "Then I'll admit my mistake and apologize to you brothers sincerely a few times?"

He made a Daoist greeting and actually put on a show of apologizing.

Ma Bi was exasperated. Faint black smoke swirled around him, and his eyes involuntarily turned fierce. He was about to charge at the heartless Daoist, but Ma Chuan grabbed his arm and held him tight. Seeing this, the Daoist wasn't afraid. Instead, he sneered. "Heaven and earth are divided into yin and yang; people and ghosts are on separate sides. An accidental encounter between the two is, according to ancient saying, a collision, quite taboo. The reason I am showing myself here is that my eyes were just smeared with some talisman water, which cost several taels of silver at market price. Only then could I open my eyes and see you netherworld creatures. It's to prevent any fierce ghosts with strong obsessions from violating the yang world. So if I kill you now, I'll gain some yin virtue."

Ma Chuan said fearfully, "I can tell, Daoist, you're not that kind of person."

The young Daoist laughed. "Want to become what I call a fierce ghost and take revenge on these murderous villains? Then let me pour cold water on you. You think you can even get into the prefectural city gate? If you manage to slip into the city in the dark and avoid the patrols of the City God's day and night inspectors, and finally see the door gods pasted on their homes, believe me, those impartial door gods will see you as filthy things and kill you on the spot."

Mentioning those villains, Ma Chuan gritted his teeth. "Daoist, as long as we can get revenge on those beasts, we brothers are willing to pay any price!"

Ma Bi's face twisted in rage. "Worse than beasts! We'll skin them, pull their tendons, eat their flesh, drink their blood!"

The Daoist looked amused and said slowly, "I didn't save you earlier because this disaster was your own doing. Even gods can't save someone who wants to die. If I save you today, you might still die tomorrow. As a man outside the world, why should I invite worldly troubles? Not killing you to earn yin virtue is already me..."

The two brothers saw the Daoist raise a hand in front of him and murmur a "Fortune and Longevity Unsurpassed Heavenly Venerable."

Afterwards, under the brothers' kneeling and desperate pleas, the Daoist pieced together the mutilated corpses and buried them hastily.

The Daoist, leading the two ghosts, followed the hoof prints left by the cavalry on the road.

The sword-carrying Daoist was indeed an otherworldly master. He didn't pant or flush, walking briskly like flying, faster than a galloping horse. The Ma brothers were relieved they were ghosts, able to keep up with this eccentric who claimed to be descending the mountain to experience the mortal world. During the journey, the Daoist stopped to rest, took out some dry food from his pack, and untied the gourd at his waist. He sat by the roadside, drinking alone, with peanuts and pickled vegetables as snacks. The dry food was hard to swallow, so he washed it down with wine... The impatient Ma Bi urged the Daoist to hurry several times, but the Daoist was leisurely, saying only, "Drinking without snacks, you'll get drunk fast. A living man without courage, even mighty is in vain..." As the Daoist spoke, Ma Bi didn't notice that his elder brother, looking at him, seemed to have remembered something, and his gaze was strange. Ma Chuan secretly shook his head, pushing certain things to the back of his mind.

"Idle pigs in a trough nudge each other; dogs fight over uneven spoils."

The Daoist ate his fill, packed up, slung his pack diagonally, patted his belly lightly, and asked with a smile, "Ghosts in the underworld look like men; men in the yang world look like ghosts. Ma Chuan, Ma Bi, do you think this world is strange or not?"

The two brothers were heartbroken and remained silent.

The Daoist smiled. "Since I'm not busy anyway, better teach a man to fish than give him a fish. How about I teach you a technique suitable for ghost cultivation? I have business to attend to and can't keep wandering with you forever."

"But let's agree up front: you each only get one chance to kill. Before you decide whom to kill, with my help, you can find them one by one, learn their family backgrounds, and then choose someone to kill. If you dare break the agreement during this time, I have ways to make you laugh and know the consequences."

"Success or not, give me an answer."

Ma Chuan clasped his fists. "Daoist's great kindness. How can we ever repay you?"

The Daoist smiled. "No need for repayment. Just remember not to be soft-hearted when you kill your enemy."

Because the Daoist stopped for a meal and they had to carefully bypass various shrines, academies, and Daoist temples along the way—and the Daoist also had to teach them an immortal technique—they wasted considerable time. When the brothers separated from the Daoist and sneaked into the city using the technique, they learned that the real culprits, two bastards from a neighboring country, had already returned home. Later, after countless hardships, narrowly escaping death, on the verge of being disintegrated, they finally found the two men.

Ma Chuan looked at Ma Chuan. Ma Bi looked at Ma Bi.

They looked at themselves.

Almost simultaneously, they recovered all their memories.

A woman named Qiu Yun, the precious daughter of the Zhao family, was about to get married. The maidservant accompanying her suddenly asked with a smile.

"How does it feel to switch roles between master and servant, letting your former master, Ma Yuemei, be your maidservant for years?"

Shen Ke in the capital of the Jade Proclamation Kingdom died again and again, like falling into reincarnation, turning endlessly. The old man became increasingly haggard, skin and bones, utterly dead-hearted.

When the world showed strange signs and all sounds fell silent, Shen Ke didn't notice. Like a lonely ghost and a walking corpse, he wandered alone in the empty alleys of the capital.

He heard a voice behind him, laughing, "If you want to get rich, why not ask me?"

Shen Ke's body stiffened. He turned his head numbly and saw the man in blue. Thinking about it, he finally remembered—this seemed to be a sword immortal. What was his surname again?

The skin-and-bones old man, a faint light flickering in his dull eyes, moved his lips as if wanting to ask something but unable to speak.

The man laughed. "If I give you a physique equivalent to a Boundless Realm martial artist, as a cheat, do you think you can walk out of here?"

Upon hearing this, Shen Ke felt no joy. He silently crouched down, leaned against the wall of the alley, covered his head with both hands, and the heartbroken old man sobbed.

The man laughed. "An old man like you, why are you crying?"

Shen Ke looked up a little, raised one hand, and bit off the finger with the thumb ring, bit by bit. His mouth was full of blood, his throat moved slightly, and he swallowed the flesh, bones, and broken ring together.

The man asked, "Does the medicine of regret taste good?"

The old man shook his head.

In another illusionary world, Chen Ping'an outside the small temple took a step forward, bringing Yu Shiwu back to the same place, the prosperous water town. They walked along the bluestone road by the river. In the river, a colorful wedding boat was carrying a bride in a phoenix coronet and rosy veil, heading toward the auspicious Blessing and Prosperity Bridge.

As they walked side by side, in a tall house with a courtyard, there was a crape myrtle tree in full bloom, bright and brilliant. Chen Ping'an smiled. "An old thing becomes a spirit. I wonder how many of the young masters in the room it has seen turn from youth to white hair."

Yu Shiwu asked, "Earlier, I thought the blooming season was wrong. You weren't hinting that it was about to become a spirit? You were deliberately giving a flaw for the sharp-eyed to see?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Both."

A wealthy young idler approached, carrying a bird cage on a pole, whistling. It seemed he was going to catch some live food for his caged thrush. The young master saw a graceful, willow-like young girl carrying a flower basket. He sidestepped to block her way. The girl tried to go around, but the young master intentionally sidestepped twice again. The girl widened her eyes and blushed with anger. The young master quickly apologized with a grin and moved aside... Yu Shiwu asked, "Is he a member of the Ma family?" Chen Ping'an shook his head. "Just the usual buzz of the marketplace." They came to an open drying yard full of pickle jars. A busy worker inside looked up and called out, "Master Chen is here!" Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded. Soon, another familiar worker called out, "Master Chen, your son is so big now!" Chen Ping'an chuckled and said nothing. The "youth" Yu Shiwu sighed. What was all this?

Yu Shiwu was like a spectator who had seen countless lantern riddles at the Lantern Festival on the fifteenth day of the first month but hadn't solved many. Now he could finally ask the riddle-maker for the answers. "Earlier, we passed a border military town named Tofu Pass. What's the meaning?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "According to the rules, riddles prefer alternative explanations, whether derived from allusions or not. Generally, riddles don't allow revealing the answer directly."

Yu Shiwu asked, "Just talking about the lantern riddles I've glanced at, I roughly estimate that in these two thousand years, there must be thousands. I'm very curious, extremely curious, Chen Ping'an! Where do you get all this knowledge to throw into this dream world?"

To make an accomplished "immortal" walk through the human world for a thousand years without detecting anything wrong, how much effort and how much miscellaneous knowledge would it take?

"That's a question only an outsider would ask."

Chen Ping'an shook his head and asked in return, "Have you heard of the Night Ferry? Do you know that there's an Item City on it?"

Yu Shiwu shook his head. "I've never been interested in such things. I lack knowledge of both mountain and mortal affairs. That can be considered one family not knowing another, the monk not knowing the Daoist? Naturally, I can't compare to you, who are used to traveling far. You, Mountain Lord, are accustomed to asking directions when you go out and inquiring about customs when you enter a village..."

Saying this, Yu Shiwu wore a self-deprecating expression. In terms of traveling experience, his two thousand years, how many sights and people had he seen? How much had he remembered?

Chen Ping'an laughed. "The mountain is big, the tree is tall; the well is deep, the water is cold. Fellow Daoist Yu, don't compare with me. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses."

In fact, Chen Ping'an now had twelve transfer talismans. As long as he activated one on the coast, it could help him board that night ferry.

Chen Ping'an said, "The matter of lantern riddles is actually simple. Just have a few dozen riddle collections at hand, copy them directly. Such books aren't expensive. How many taels of silver would it cost?"

Chen Ping'an continued to explain, "Of course, making everything you see and hear seem logical is indeed not easy. So I had long prepared hundreds of categories, large and small, and a total of nearly tens of millions of 'paper strips' derived from them—like the bookmarks scholars like to stick between pages—to construct and enrich this fake world. This was to prevent cultivators like you from entering and thinking it was obviously fake."

"Back to the main point, the old saying goes: the rich celebrate the New Year, the poor pass the pass. So I thought the name Tofu Pass sounded interesting. That's all."

Yu Shiwu paused for a long time. "Was it the Embroidery Tiger who taught you this 'scholarly' mental technique?"

In the wealthy families below the mountain, reading had its methods, writing had its secrets, often never passed down.

Chen Ping'an curled his lip. "He wouldn't teach this. He wouldn't even deign to do it."

Yu Shiwu suddenly asked, "What if I grabbed one person, wouldn't let go, faced him, and asked him hundreds of questions in a row?"

Chen Ping'an couldn't help but laugh. He gave Yu Shiwu a thumbs-up. "Then you really would have stumped me!"

Yu Shiwu hesitated for a moment. "If one day, that person, even if someone persisted in getting to the bottom of things with him, could his answers be flawless?"

Chen Ping'an's answer was off-topic. "How about we go somewhere else?"

Yu Shiwu said helplessly, "Who am I to decide?"

It was like visiting a famous garden, shifting scenes with each step. They arrived at a mountain stream where the water babbled cheerfully, then merged into a river outside the mountain and fell silent. A woodcutter and a boatman met on the river. One brought out some home-brewed wine, the other brought out freshly caught mountain game. They talked loudly in marketplace slang and rural proverbs: living off the mountain, living off the water, ultimately relying on Heaven for a living. The woodcutter looked up at the blazing sun and said it was good weather. The boatman agreed: a dry day on the fifth of the fifth month is hard to buy with money; this year's harvest must be good.

In the season of blooming flowers and bright willows, dark clouds gathered in an instant, a heavy rain came and went, falling flowers covered the ground. An old man, whose family had declined and whose later years were bleak, sallow and thin, with gray whiskers, wearing a tattered felt hat, holding a white paper lantern that had seen years of use, saw off his son who was going out on business. He gave his son the last of his savings—the son who claimed with certainty and patting his chest that he would make a sure-profit deal. The old man stood there watching him go, until his back disappeared, then turned back into the house.

The young man, who had promised the old man he would cut off his hands if he gambled again, rushed straight to a smoky gambling den in the city.

A sixty-year-old salt merchant tycoon, introducing his concubine to people, only said, "This is my little thief." The young woman clinging to the old man's arm smiled charmingly. It seemed that since "thief" and "concubine" sounded similar in the language, it was better than saying "honored consort."

In the freezing cold, on the drill field of Tofu Pass, a military parade was happening. A young noble from the capital, here to gild his resume, had arrived the day before. The commander, who was known for his frugal lifestyle and excellent military discipline, deliberately woke the noble early to join the parade. The poor noble stood for a full hour, his nose running from the cold. Finally, when the parade ended, the commander only took the noble to a "private meal," which was actually just a big bowl of white congee, corn buns, and pickles. But even so, the noble, accustomed to a life of luxury, wolfed it down, eating as if he had never been so full or had such good food.

They saw three different schoolhouses with different scenes. In a poor village school, a teacher's slapstick made a mischievous child's hands red and swollen. After school, the child didn't dare let his parents see, or he'd get another beating. In a wealthy city's school, the teacher was scolded by parents who doted on their children, and he shrank back. Over time, he no longer dared to put on airs or enforce rules. He would just teach to earn money to support his family; why invite trouble for educating? He might even get a reprimand from the county preceptor. So his slapstick had been gathering dust for years. In a private school of a scholarly family, an old pedant hired from outside, this day, a child who had just started school was beaten badly. The child ran to his mother crying, but tripped and fell on the way. A servant wanted to help him up, but a dignified woman stopped him. She made the child get up on his own. Not only did she not comfort him, but she scolded her young son: "If you walk steadily, how could you fall?" Then she asked her son why he was crying. The child said nothing, turned around, ran back to the schoolhouse, and sat obediently to study.

In the countryside, groups of children waded into the stream to catch snails. When they got home, they used pangolin spines to pick out the snail meat at the dinner table. Some could just suck the meat out, tasting the wild delicacy. A woman who had sold tea stopped by the market on the way home. The next day, her two children, who were still in school, had brand new, neat clothes and shoes.

Yu Shiwu turned to look at Chen Ping'an.

He saw Chen Ping'an smiling gently.

Yu Shiwu muttered to himself, "The extravagant always feel insufficient; the frugal feel they have more than enough."

Without using any spells of shrinking the earth or traversing mountains, Yu Shiwu just followed Chen Ping'an. It was like unrolling another landscape scroll. They arrived at a rural cottage. Outside, snowflakes were flying. A few people who had traveled together were lodging there, sitting around the hearth talking through the night. Close friends warmed wine and chatted freely, drinking cheap homemade liquor, yet discussing how to persuade the emperor to "return the censor's draft." Outside, there were a few servants and attendants who looked like book-boys. One young man had a natural stutter; talking to people, his words came out like goat droppings one by one. Beside him, a disheveled, unkempt fellow stood leaning on a broom, dozing, with several ganoderma tied at his waist.

A servant wearing ganoderma at his waist was clearly unreasonable.

Chen Ping'an brought Yu Shiwu "outside" and pointed at the stuttering youth and the disheveled man. "Pick one to talk to and try to get to the bottom of things."

Yu Shiwu considered it, then shook his head.

Chen Ping'an said, "Unless someone starts by recognizing it as an illusionary world, those within the dream won't question reality or illusion. Besides, if words don't agree, half a sentence is too many."

"Looking at the world from the Dharma realm."

Yu Shiwu murmured, "Like a dream, like an illusion, like a bubble, like a shadow, like dew, like lightning."

Chen Ping'an nodded slightly.

The stuttering, delicate-looking youth seemed to have heard Yu Shiwu's murmuring. His eyes suddenly lit up, and he began to chant a kind of wandering immortal poem resembling a Daoist invocation. Without any stutter, his voice was clear as a jade chime: "Mortals don't believe in immortals, not knowing the Great Canopy Heaven above. The world says earthly immortals can ascend, and longevity can be extended for ten thousand years. Hearing this in youth, I laughed it off. Without wings, we fall to the ground; living a century in this world is hard enough... Meeting a strange person in the city, hand in hand, we look upon the world. Everywhere we see life and death, life and death follow each other like shadows. Seeing this, the heart becomes fearful, startled and scared, I clench my fist... Practicing the true Dharma for three or five years, heaven and earth, sun and moon become soft as cotton. One day, chewing through the void, I realize the profound is even more profound. From then on, there is no doubt in my heart. I go back to the marketplace to find the youth and sing to him again, 'Please listen carefully, it turns out that in the mortal world, there really are immortals! It turns out that on the road of the mortal world, there really are carefree immortals...'"

Yu Shiwu couldn't help but laugh.

Chen Ping'an suddenly said, "That gambler, of course, lost everything. When he left the gambling den, dazed and wandering the streets, he saw something. By instinct, without thinking, he saved a child about to be hit by a carriage. The child was saved, but he died."

"That noble who thought pickles and corn buns were the best in the world later, in his youth, gave his life generously and died on the battlefield."

"That 'little thief' concubine of the salt merchant couldn't stand the loneliness. First she had an affair with a young groom in the house, then she met with an actor invited to perform. She wanted to pack up valuables and elope but couldn't decide who to choose."

"Those parents who, because they hadn't studied much themselves, couldn't bear to let their children be punished with a slapstick. When their children grew up and had their own children in school, they probably wouldn't even know what a slapstick was."

Yu Shiwu listened patiently to the aftermath of a dozen different characters and various stories. Some were unexpected, some were within reason. Yu Shiwu sighed for no particular reason. "Absorb, deconstruct, fill, reshape, adapt, generate."

Chen Ping'an's eyes showed appreciation. "Fellow Daoist Yu has finally hit the spot."

They walked away from the village cottages, talking as they strolled. They reached the riverbank and walked along it. Yu Shiwu actually felt that this kind of travel was pretty good.

The creator of this world was truly ingenious. The observer was filled with a unique feeling.

Unseen fresh events unfolded vividly before his eyes; unheard stories rang in his ears.

Yu Shiwu couldn't help sighing again. "This trip has been very rewarding. I am overwhelmed with gratitude."

"When a cultivator descends the mountain to practice, it's like a dragon walking through a river."

Chen Ping'an tucked his hands into his sleeves, his thoughts drifting far away. Coming back to himself, he lightly stomped his foot. "My senior brother Cui Chan seldom spoke... human words to me. But back then, when we were chatting on the city wall, he said a very simple and approachable truth: a country where even a local thug, upon seeing his former schoolteacher on the road, would instinctively feel a bit scared—that is a truly hopeful country. It has hope to become strong from weak, and hope to become stronger from strong."

Boundless snow. A white-clad immortal rode a deer across the water. Both the man and the scene had an ancient charm.

Looking more closely, Yu Shiwu's expression became strange. The immortal was himself.

All was silent. Heaven and earth were one color of white. Holding his breath and concentrating, if he asked himself, it was as if his heart's voice was like thunder.

Yu Shiwu stopped in his tracks and asked for no reason, "If everyone is willing to build bridges and pave roads, is that true eternal peace?"

Chen Ping'an replied, "I believe it is true, pure freedom: the freedom for everyone to freely cede freedom."