Chapter 1092: Borrowing Fists

Chapter 1092: Borrowing Fists

Yu Shiwu was silent for a moment, then asked curiously, "Are you able to control the speed of time's passage in this world?"

Chen Ping'an remained silent. In an instant, a strange phenomenon unfolded before Yu Shiwu's eyes. The heavy snow suddenly stopped, and in the blink of an eye, it became warm spring with flowers blooming. Grasses grew and orioles flew. Groups of children were flying kites by the riverbank. Then came the continuous plum rains, summer floods surging. On a moonlit night over the river, the water was calm with ripples like painted lines. A ferry passenger, like an immortal or a spirit, his figure thin as a solitary bamboo, his robe as white as wild clouds, stepped onto a single leaf boat. Without needing a boatman to pole, his robe fluttered as he flew across the river surface. Autumn wind rustled. Villagers noisily carried two bamboo cages containing a man and a woman to the water's edge. Finally, another scene arrived: a heavy snowfall like goose feathers during the bitter cold season. For Yu Shiwu, an onlooker, the scenery of the changing seasons and the local customs of each time were like a picture book flipped through quickly by a reader. During this process, Yu Shiwu's body could fully perceive the cold and warm changes of the seasons. But just as Yu Shiwu was convinced that Chen Ping'an could indeed control the river of time at will, Chen Ping'an suddenly raised his hand, snapped his fingers in front of Yu Shiwu's eyes, and said, "A leaf blocking the eye—have you heard of it?"

As he spoke, Yu Shiwu was horrified to find that he and Chen Ping'an were enveloped in a pitch-black darkness so thick one couldn't see their hand in front of their face. Chen Ping'an smiled. "A leaf blocking the eye. Since this leaf can make people unable to see something, of course it can also make them see something. It's just a matter of the artisan's micro-carving on a leaf. Compared to painstakingly constructing a flawless small world, wouldn't it be more time-saving, effort-saving, money-saving, and worry-saving to tamper with your field of vision?"

Just as Yu Shiwu was wavering between belief and doubt, Chen Ping'an had already pulled him back to the "original spot." He reached out to catch a snowflake and murmured to himself, "Earlier, when I attended the Confucian Temple council, at a ferry crossing, I had the fortune to take a walk with Mr. Zheng. During that time, Mr. Zheng said a strange thing that I still can't believe to this day. He said, 'I once saw two completely identical snowflakes.'"

Yu Shiwu bent down and picked up some thin stones from the riverbank, then tossed them at the water's surface to skip stones. They stirred up a series of disconnected ripples, each splash opening in succession from large to small.

At that moment, a mist-shrouded young woman emerged gracefully from the water. She was dressed in green with a yellow crown, standing tall and graceful. She said that if anyone could guess her name, they could marry into the Water Mansion.

Yu Shiwu glanced at Chen Ping'an, meaning to ask, "What's this about? A lantern riddle?" Chen Ping'an smiled and reminded him, "'With water, she becomes immortal, green sleeves and yellow crown.' I can't give you any more hints, Daoist friend."

The Water Immortal looked at Yu Shiwu with hopeful eyes, but he was as unresponsive as a piece of wood. After waiting a while and not getting an answer, she had no choice but to sigh faintly. "Where does the water fairy come from? Green sleeves, yellow crown, white jade petals. The jade petals regret that fate has no bond with you, sir. I'll take my leave first. Until we meet again."

Yu Shiwu wanted to regain the upper hand, so he pointed at Chen Ping'an beside him and asked, "Fairy, why do you treat him differently? Why not ask my friend here?"

She smiled. "I like to judge by appearances."

Yu Shiwu laughed heartily.

Chen Ping'an remained composed.

After the Water Immortal returned to the water, Chen Ping'an teased, "Daoist friend Yu, you really need to read more. You just missed a marriage opportunity!"

Yu Shiwu asked, "When will you restore my true body and cultivation level?"

He could roughly determine that his current form was a rare type of "yin spirit traveling far away in an out-of-body journey," while his true body was imprisoned or suppressed somewhere by Chen Ping'an.

His earlier memory recovery was like... an empty skin, like an empty water vat, being filled by someone ladling water from another vat.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Why the rush? Haste makes waste. Just think of me as a pawnshop owner."

Pawnshop?

Come to think of it, that was quite fitting. It was indeed a good metaphor.

Yu Shiwu said, "Then let's swap identities. You try being me?"

Chen Ping'an was silent for a moment, then turned to smile at Yu Shiwu.

Yu Shiwu's mind was shaken.

Could it be?

"Yu Shiwu" was actually Chen Ping'an, and the "Chen Ping'an" before him was the real him?

Chen Ping'an patted Yu Shiwu on the shoulder and couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry. I don't have Mr. Zheng's ability yet, not for the time being."

Yu Shiwu felt inexplicably anxious. He wanted to accept the situation as it came, but everything he had seen and heard along the way was so bizarre and incredible that it could hardly be described as just "opening one's eyes to a new world." Moreover, being kept hanging like this, with no solid ground under his feet, made Yu Shiwu feel uneasy. Chen Ping'an smiled and reassured him, "Don't worry, I won't stay here long. I'll take you to see a few more places. Then you can decide whether to team up with me and do something different. Once you nod, I'll withdraw from this place..."

Hearing this, Yu Shiwu asked, "What if I never nod?"

Chen Ping'an smiled and replied, "Didn't I say, 'Haste makes waste'? That saying applies to you, and of course, it applies to me too."

Yu Shiwu looked helpless. This fellow was clearly going to wear him down, just to see who could outlast whom. After that, Yu Shiwu saw a painting. In the painting, a young scholar, traveling with a book bag and lodging in a temple, was reading by lamplight late into the night. Growing weary and unable to hold on, he fell asleep at his desk. His thoughts rose like a curl of cloud, a column of smoke three feet above his head, and the content of his dream appeared like a scroll in the cloud. The man was dreaming of a beautiful young girl, holding clappers and singing a clear song. Strange flowers and rare plants grew scattered beside the house, where a mountain stone stood. Below, a donkey drank from a trough. Nearby, a towering tree with a crescent moon hanging in its branches. Inside the moon was a Guanghan Palace as small as a mustard seed. In the spotless celestial palace, a cold fairy maiden was combing her hair in front of a mirror. In the mirror, besides the fairy's face, there was also the reflection of a painting on the wall inside the room, depicting a scholar sleeping at his desk. It was like a three-level ko cycle on a Go board.

Chen Ping'an explained to Yu Shiwu, "The Go masters here just need to follow the thousands of game records to place their stones. They can proceed step by step, like copying text from a book. Players of different skill levels are given game records of corresponding quality. If you don't personally enter the game to play, you could watch for years without finding any flaws. As for the common street-side gambling Go games, they all use endgame problems from chess, all seemingly tricky set patterns. Setting those up is even easier. Of course, these methods are ultimately following the paths of predecessors, taking shortcuts and clever approaches. It's hardly original."

Yu Shiwu frowned and asked, "What if I didn't know in advance that I was entering an illusion, but I had doubts, and I'm a Go master myself?"

Chen Ping'an said, "Then you wouldn't have entered this world. For example, you might have walked into a place where Go hasn't been invented yet. Once you're there, if you feel so inclined, you could become the founder of the game. That pleasure might dispel some of your doubts?"

Yu Shiwu shook his head. "A single character error in a text can create a multitude of ambiguities."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "When copying a stele inscription, do you learn the brush's edge or the knife's edge?"

Yu Shiwu changed the subject. "Limited by the foundation of your true body, the quality of these illusion worlds... isn't very high, is it? The earlier appearance of the deer-riding immortal and the female Water Immortal was already the peak of your techniques? Is it correct to say that the 'One,' derived from all truths—including me and the former owners of the immortal mansion ruins—cannot surpass the total spiritual energy stored at your current level? So can I understand that we 'people' and the collection of mountains, rivers, and all things are equivalent to you?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Right and wrong."

Yu Shiwu seemed to have caught a spark of inspiration and pressed on, "In general terms, all these myriad arrangements are just equivalent to a man-made low-grade blessed land, aren't they?"

Chen Ping'an said, "Wait and see."

Markets, rivers and lakes, the imperial court, and finally, the ethereal mountains. It was like a craftsman's practice, from easy to difficult, step by step.

But if it stopped there, at best it would be a true copy of a lower-grade blessed land on paper. To a peak cultivator, it would hardly be called "creation."

So Yu Shiwu soon saw a towering mountain peak, seemingly the starting point of all the world's dragon veins. On it sat an old man with his chest bare, his face obscured by swirling mist, showing a large belly. His snoring was like thunder. With each exhale, he spat out colorful celestial treasures, tracing brilliant trails as they scattered across the world.

Yu Shiwu stared blankly, then sighed, "If this isn't an illusion, it's at least the scale of a medium-grade blessed land. Where did you get so much spiritual energy stored up?"

Chen Ping'an said, "To be honest, my Fallen Mountain family's wealth is not meager."

After all, following the Sage of Rites on a journey beyond the heavens had yielded considerable gains.

Suddenly, Yu Shiwu blurted out, "What if—I mean, what if—you managed to collect all the golden body fragments from the entire human world? Wouldn't you..."

Hearing this, Yu Shiwu shook his head. It was too fanciful. If he succeeded, wouldn't Chen Ping'an be able to rebuild the Heavenly Court from ten thousand years ago?

Unexpectedly, Chen Ping'an said, "I've thought about it, but that's all—just thought. It's not just that the difficulty is too great, almost certainly a futile endeavor. I also have to worry about falling into a situation similar to a three-level ko cycle, so I nipped that inappropriate thought in the bud early on."

Yu Shiwu clutched his head.

Chen Ping'an continued, "Can someone who never doubts the reality of the world ever be certain that the world they inhabit is real? And can someone who insists on questioning the reality of the world ever be certain that it is false?"

"Regarding the truth of 'self,' the ones who most want to know the answer—among the people I know—are two."

"Lu Chen and Zheng Juzhong."

"And the ones most qualified to give that answer are also two."

"The Buddha and the Dao Ancestor."

Yu Shiwu hesitated, then asked cautiously, "And what about the Supreme Sage?"

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment and replied, "The Supreme Sage doesn't seem to care much about that."

Yu Shiwu was silent for a long time. Finally, for the first time, he opened his heart. "I actually knew my ultimate fate long ago."

Ten thousand years ago, there was a "Joint Severance."

Yu Shiwu had inherited an unbearable burden of karma. Even for a cultivation genius like Yu Shiwu, it was a bitter ordeal. For example, an ordinary person might prepare for rain by buying an umbrella and waiting for the rain to come. But Yu Shiwu had to have the means to prevent the heavens from sending that rain. How could he do that? So over the years, Yu Shiwu had taken a very detached view of worldly affairs. It was like the character in one of the illusions inside the inn on Handan Road—the widow who ran the tavern. She had long stopped caring about whether her fate tomorrow would be good or bad. Whenever Yu Shiwu thought of her, he thought of himself, and then of the cloth banner flapping in the wind outside the tavern.

It seemed that all of this was Chen Ping'an's hint to him? A kind of... fortune-telling?

Perhaps guessing what Yu Shiwu was thinking, Chen Ping'an said, "This is like you doing fortune-telling for yourself. Then what? You just wait? Do you know what the meaning is when ordinary people in the markets and alleys seek fortune-tellers? The meaning is: if the fortune is good, just go forward with confidence; if the fortune is bad, you have to change your path of cultivation. You need to turn your thoughts around, shake off certain ingrained habits. That's why cultivation has never been confined to the mountains. No affinity, no meeting; no debt, no coming. How to turn a karmic bond into a good one, how the debt-collector can burn the IOU, how the debtor can clear the account—that is the cultivation of everyone."

Upon hearing this, the worry on Yu Shiwu's face faded a little.

Chen Ping'an said, "I also need to ask you a question: Should this life repay the debts of the previous life? Does this life need to take responsibility for the next life?"

Yu Shiwu was at a loss.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "There was another question, but let's skip it for now. Wait until you've figured out the answer to the first one before asking."

Yu Shiwu's head felt as big as a bucket. He waved his hand and said, "Don't ask, don't ask. Let's go somewhere else."

Cultivating to become an immortal was extremely difficult. A good cultivation site with beautiful mountains and clear waters, a time-honored immortal mansion—it required the perfect combination of heavenly time, earthly advantage, and human harmony.

The mountains and rivers were picturesque, the dragon veins clear, the spiritual energy pure and abundant, free from turbid air. They arrived at an immortal's dwelling—a woman's boudoir? For cultivators, sitting on a meditation cushion in the practice hall, closing the door for a mental fast, burning incense or lighting talismans—these were common ways of keeping time on the mountains, used by Qi practitioners to determine their large and small cycles. But the room's decorations were a bit too feminine. It was empty, suggesting the female Qi practitioner who was the owner hadn't returned yet. From the mountain gate archway and the cliff carvings earlier, Yu Shiwu judged this place should be called Qinwang Mountain's Huarui Peak.

This place, this scene, felt like a "still state."

Yu Shiwu asked, "Is this one of your templates or paradigms for building mountain immortal dwellings?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "Yes. So compared to ordinary female cultivators, there are more decorative items in the room—a bit cluttered and complex. But it still suits her current status, age, and state of mind."

"Seventeen years old. Before coming up the mountain, she came from a top-tier powerful family. After coming up the mountain, she was doted on by her teachers and seniors. She often went down the mountain for training, had plenty of money, and was never short of cash. Simply put, when she walked into a shop in the bustling market, she could spend money without batting an eye, just buying, buying, buying."

"In recent years, she often complained that her skin was a bit too dark, her eyebrows a bit too thick, and she thought her face wasn't oval enough. But because there were rules on the mountain—more significant than the 'disfigurement' in the mortal world—a senior sister once warned her never to think about altering her face. For ordinary people with weak bodies, and even martial artists in the jianghu, talking too much can scatter their spirit and Qi. But for those who enter the mountains to cultivate immortality—already the luckiest of the lucky—they absolutely must not tamper with the features of their face. Once you change the fundamentals, in the long run, it's bound to be a losing deal."

Yu Shiwu casually picked up a small powder box made of jade carved with a deer holding a lingzhi mushroom from the dressing table. The tool marks were clear—obviously a handcrafted, exquisite item. He asked, "In this world, where is the first ancient jade grinding wheel with a treadle?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "That's a very good and crucial question. You always say you're not well-versed in worldly affairs—you're being too modest."

Yu Shiwu said, "Thanks to you, I've had the chance to wander here for a thousand years. Even if I don't pay much attention to things around me, there are still a few items that I can't forget."

On the painting table, there was a screen with a zitan wood stand, and a pair of white-glazed ceramic incense burners shaped like lions. By the window, on a small flower stand, three narcissus porcelain basins were placed side by side.

It was truly a dazzling array of exquisite items.

Yu Shiwu's gaze wandered over them. "Do they all have origins?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "Each has its own heritage and story. Precious antiques and curios value most highly a well-documented transmission. Without some background story, they wouldn't be worth as much. For example, the incense burner on the table, a 'Bridge-Eared Burner' from the Mei Yu Tang collection, also known as a 'Phoenix-Eyed Burner,' with three characters carved inside: 'Jiang Niangzi.' It was an imperial gift from the founding emperor to the first National Academy libationer, and it's a family heirloom of her clan. Then there's the jade-and-bamboo fan bestowed by her sect. One side of the ribs is carved with eighteen arhats, very lifelike. The other side is inscribed with the verse: 'The flat peach ripens for three thousand years; my brush can bloom flowers in an instant. I once ate it above, still drunk on the glow of the sky.' Both sides of the fan ribs are signed 'Shou Mei' and 'Meng Ji'—both among the few great bamboo-carving masters of this dynasty. She thinks the incense burner is the most valuable, but that's not the case. What is truly a divine immortal's blessing is the ancient bronze dressing mirror she bought as a bargain from a street stall last year, engraved with the characters 'Wu Shan.' But this item is a bit hot to handle, because here, it's a heterodox magical artifact. One day in the future, she'll learn that the ancient mirror is a hidden realm of cloud and rain—both a place of romantic dalliance and a mystical Daoist wonderland."

Yu Shiwu was deeply impressed.

"Actually, the most effort went into this."

Chen Ping'an tossed Yu Shiwu a picture album of ladies. Yu Shiwu took it and flipped it open. Each page depicted the same beautiful woman, but with different styles of makeup, various hairpins, and gowns.

Yu Shiwu was amused and exasperated. Chen Ping'an said seriously, "Clothing, food, shelter, and travel—clothing comes first. We can't be careless."

Yu Shiwu, perhaps unable to bear the strong feminine scent in the room, put down the album, pushed open a window, and looked into the distance. He murmured, "Chen Ping'an, if I had known this would happen, I would never have clashed with you."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "You flatter me."

Chen Ping'an picked up the album that Yu Shiwu had put back in its place and casually asked, "Yu Shiwu, do you have some particular sense of achievement?"

Yu Shiwu shook his head. "You know I take cultivation lightly. I can't muster much interest in anything. True Martial Mountain has its own traditions, and although I'm of a high generation, I've never had to take on responsibilities. Without hope or ambition, how can there be satisfaction or achievement? And you, Chen Ping'an?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "When I was young, it was being able to buy books without looking at the price. Also, meeting a superior person on the road and being able to stay calm and composed."

Yu Shiwu nodded. "Quibbling over every penny, frugally earning money; spending a fortune generously—choosing and deciding for yourself is immensely satisfying."

As if recalling something, Yu Shiwu said with a knowing smile, "There's a rumor that the young Hidden Official once dressed as a woman to fight outside the city, fooling the enemy and earning merits?"

Chen Ping'an didn't even bother to deny it. Without any shame, he said, "People in the jianghu don't stand on ceremony."

He remembered that the first to leak this inside story from the Sword Qi Great Wall was probably Lu Zhi? Good news stays within the door, but bad news travels a thousand miles?

To dispel the influence of this rumor, Chen Ping'an had once thought up a method similar to diluting wine with water—asking those handsome, carefree young men like Lin Junbi to follow suit. But they all refused.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Where did you hear this rumor? Who's so well-informed?"

Yu Shiwu naturally wouldn't foolishly reveal his source. He joked, "Are you planning to block the door first and then seal their mouths? If you can't talk it out, you'll kill them to silence them?"

Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "Not to that extent."

Yu Shiwu dropped his smile and said seriously, "I've made up my mind. I'm willing to treat this place as a cultivation site. Whether it's to escape disaster or change my fate, I'll trust you this once. Should I swear an oath?"

Chen Ping'an waved his hand. "For some people, swearing to heaven is utterly useless. But for others, their words are more meaningful than any oath. You're the latter."

Yu Shiwu seemed to have resolved some inner knot. His temperament changed, making his eyes brighter. He laughed. "I trust myself, but I can't fully trust Mountain Lord Chen. You'll have to swear."

Chen Ping'an just smiled. For once, he spoke using his heart's voice, "Let me say this first: hiding here is not a perfect plan. At best, it adds a layer of buffer. First, I can only try my best to ensure you don't die or lose your Dao, that you won't suddenly meet a violent end or be forced to disperse your cultivation because someone deliberately obstructs that existence from reclaiming what's theirs. Or they might use some method we can't even imagine now to deal with Yu Shiwu's true body, soul, and those three portions of martial luck in advance—all to prevent that existence from returning to its peak and completing its body. Those measures are for the conspirators. Second, if the real owner comes knocking to collect the debt, I can only say that I'll mediate on your behalf, negotiate, and try to get them to agree to preserve all of your consciousness and memories."

Ten thousand years ago, the first true "liberation by dissolution" in the human world was that of the Martial Ancestor, who had both the merit of opening the heavens and the fault of dividing them. Since merit and fault could not cancel each other out, his body was severed into five parts, and his soul was imprisoned for ten thousand years. Human martial arts began with this person.

According to the clues Chen Ping'an had obtained and his own deductions, one portion of martial luck was hidden in the Lotus Spirit Shrine at the bottom of the water in the Green Abyss Heaven. Additionally, Yu Shiwu had inherited one portion from his family, passed down through generations. Through the secret machinations of Chen Ping'an's senior brother Cui Chan, the Confucian Temple had instructed the two old patriarchs of the Middle Earth Military Ancestor Court, Jiang and Wei, to gift the other two portions to Yu Shiwu of True Martial Mountain. The last portion of martial luck was believed to be somewhere in the Western Buddhist Kingdom. Clearly, once the Bao Ping Continent was breached by the wild wasteland aliens, Cui Chan would have smashed the pot and broken all pretense—directly flipping the table. Whether he acted himself or convinced the Confucian Temple, and finally got the nod from the Three Teachings' Patriarchs, Cui Chan definitely had the means to obtain the remaining two portions of martial luck and concentrate all of them in Yu Shiwu. At that time, Yu Shiwu would serve as a ferry crossing of sorts, responsible for "welcoming" the soul of the Martial Ancestor, who would be released from prison early. Either by borrowing a corpse to return to life or by occupying a nest, the latter would descend into the human world. In return for ending his imprisonment and completing his martial luck, the Martial Ancestor would entertain the wild wasteland in the Northern Julu Continent or the Southern Baisha Continent.

Once the Martial Ancestor appeared and returned to the human world, willing to help the Bright World, its significance would be no less than Bai Ze's return to the Wild Wasteland Heaven.

Yu Shiwu was very open-minded and said freely, "I understand. Those portions of martial luck are rooted very deeply in my soul. No matter how great the divine creation, it's hard to extract them like pulling silk from a cocoon. So I don't dare to hope for the integrity of my body and soul. As long as I can keep most of my memories, that's enough. For example, this current appearance—it's become a habit. It's fine."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "I'm relieved that you think that way."

Yu Shiwu asked, "Since this is a fair trade, what do you want from me?"

Chen Ping'an said, "I need you to do two things. The first is simple: you and the other two Daoist friends must each use your intelligence to the fullest and cooperate sincerely to gradually perfect this small thousand-world."

Yu Shiwu nodded. "I'll enjoy that. And the second?"

Chen Ping'an asked back, "Have you ever learned to punch?"

Yu Shiwu was completely confused, finding it absurd. He smiled bitterly. "Before I knew the truth, I had no interest in learning to punch. After knowing the truth, of course, I dared even less to learn."

Chen Ping'an said, "Daoist friend Yu, to speak a rather harsh truth: you cultivators don't have the desire to turn the tables and take control. Isn't that a terrible waste of immortal talent?"

Yu Shiwu smiled. "If you were in my place, would you fight for it?"

Chen Ping'an smiled without answering. He just took a step forward, bringing Yu Shiwu away from the immortal mansion and directly to the green riverbank of the ruin. He called the two women over and said, "Let me introduce you. This is Yu Shiwu, Daoist friend Yu. They are female cultivators from the wild wasteland—true names Xiao Xing and Ma Fu's cook, alias Yu Qing. From now on, I will lift most of the restrictions, allowing you to move freely between most of the illusion worlds."

Thus, there were three of the five elements.

Yu Qing was expressionless, listless, like a walking corpse. The days passed as if each were a year in this bleak scene. In contrast, Xiao Xing's eyes burned with intensity, delighted to have another person to talk to and relieve the boredom.

Chen Ping'an quietly removed the flowing time from Yu Qing, and as she stepped out of that invisible prison, her divine sense instantly became clear. Unable to adapt for a moment, she collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, drenched in sweat. Xiao Xing tried to help her, but Yu Qing glared and scolded her harshly. Xiao Xing laughed heartily, pointing at the plump woman as if she were taking credit. She said to Chen Ping'an and Yu Shiwu that since Yu Qing was obsessed with becoming a sword cultivator, she had kindly helped her forge a natal flying sword of very high quality, and had even thought of a name—let's call it Poisoned Wine... Seeing this, Yu Shiwu felt a headache coming. He would have to live with them from now on?

Chen Ping'an handed each of them some golden leaves. "These are both the location of the illusion worlds and the keys to open them."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Mend the roof when the weather is fine; read books while you are young. Better to ask and learn than to pretend to know. Let's encourage each other."

If one's memory is the dwelling place of all emotions, then each vein on these leaves carried the joys and sorrows of a thousand stories. Perhaps a lame donkey inexplicably fell into a well, or perhaps the wind and moon were dancing together.

---

On the city wall of the Sword Qi Great Wall.

Ma Kuxuan walked slowly through the snow, smiling. "This is a rare opportunity. Since I'm in the mood to talk, don't you have something to ask? To be honest, regarding certain old histories, the truths I know—no matter how much you've experienced or how broad your knowledge—you might not know them as clearly."

Chen Ping'an did indeed ask, "Why don't you specialize in thunder techniques? Wouldn't that give you twice the result with half the effort?"

Because Chen Ping'an could almost confirm that the old coachman hiding in the Great Li capital was the former chief god of the Thunder Ministry's Execution Department. And obviously, he had placed the heaviest bet and the most expectations on Ma Kuxuan of Apricot Flower Lane. It was clear that Ma Kuxuan was undoubtedly a reincarnation of a high-ranking thunder god. Among all the categories of sounds in the human world, the most resonant and stirring was the thunderclap.

He remembered that years ago, a high-ranking god descended from beyond the heavens onto the Tongye Continent, then crossed the sea to land on the Bao Ping Continent. But it was ultimately defeated by Cui Chan and Qi Jingchun. That deity was one of the twelve high-ranking positions of the ancient heavenly court: the "Echoer."

Ma Kuxuan also made no attempt to hide it. "Given my past life and roots, plus this life's cultivation aptitude, do you think Ma Kuxuan needs to cultivate any thunder techniques? The Dragon-Tiger Mountain Celestial Master's Mansion just didn't know what they had. Or perhaps Zhao Tianlai calculated the truth, but he was too thin-skinned to lower his status and consult me. Otherwise, I wouldn't have minded helping them elevate the Five Thunder True Method to a higher level."

Chen Ping'an was momentarily at a loss for words.

Ma Kuxuan was amused. It was rare to see this guy stumped.

He raised his hand and flicked his sleeve, brushing away a large patch of falling snow before him. There appeared two kinds of threads—one gold, one silver. The golden threads were stable and firm, almost motionless, but their colors varied in depth, seemingly representing the causal connections between people. Each shifting silver thread represented a moment of inner thought, which could be the trace produced by face-to-face interaction or could exist even without the two parties meeting, completely disregarding geographical distance and freely traversing the river of time. Each silent understanding and mutual response was like picking up a thread. Hence, later Qi practitioners' methods of mental communication and martial artists' techniques of gathering sound into a thread ultimately originated from the communication among ancient gods, spanning countless stars. Nowadays, there are taboos on the mountains: one must not directly call the names of saints or fourteenth-level cultivators, as they can easily sense it. This is also an extension of this thread.

If every star beyond the heavens were a corpse of a god floating in the river of time, scattered and then condensed together, then the "mental" communication among ancient gods could ignore the immense distances that might take a lifetime for a fourteenth-level great cultivator to cross from one point to another.

Ma Kuxuan continued, "As for that Echoer who came from Tongye Continent to Bao Ping Continent, you can think of it as Zhou Mi's attempt to recruit me. But I refused. We understood each other without words. Seeing that I wouldn't take the bait, Zhou Mi didn't force the issue, lest he create complications that would hinder his ascension beyond the heavens. That would have been a loss that outweighed the gain."

Chen Ping'an's upbringing might have been lacking, but this fellow had first received the teachings of Qi Jingchun, who accepted him on behalf of his master; then Cui Chan protected his path; next, Liu Shiliu threw punches at Fallen Mountain; later, Zuo You taught him swordsmanship on the Sword Qi Great Wall; and now, the Sage of Wen, who had his Confucian Temple position restored, was sheltering him like an old hen protecting her chicks. With such treatment, who else in the world had it?

Just like some observers who only realize things later, they would always say sourly, "If I were that young Hidden Official named Chen, with such blessings, I wouldn't just be at the upper fifth realm—I'd have reached the ascension state long ago."

Ma Kuxuan's eyes were deep. "Didn't Qi Jingchun also point out a path suited to you? If you hadn't said earlier, 'I am following the crowd,' I would have scolded you for not appreciating your blessings."

Ma Kuxuan asked, "Is returning to the upper fifth realm taking this path?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "No."

It was a bit harder. He was making things difficult for himself.

Ma Kuxuan looked at Chen Ping'an, confirming that the other wasn't fooling him.

Qi Jingchun had merged the cultural, military, and incense fortunes of the Li Zhu Cave Heaven, attaining a state of unity between heaven and man. Holding a breath of righteous Qi, he visualized and traced the complete appearance of a badly damaged Daoist deity statue from the immortal graves. The final form presented was a god wearing an old, multicolored set of armor. He used a secret method to create a separate soul and then stabilized it with Buddhist divine abilities, symbolizing dwelling in the Fourth Blazing Earth Dhyana Ground. Hence, though the lamp was extinguished, the brazier remained.

A great synthesis of the Three Teachings.

This was like Qi Jingchun's letter to the future, or a kind of silent testament. But just as Zhou Mi had said at the time, this choice of Qi Jingchun's was not optimal.

Since that was the case, Qi Jingchun must have had a profound purpose.

Nevertheless, Chen Ping'an had still chosen his own path to break through, opening up a completely new... road.

Seeing that Ma Kuxuan had stopped talking, seeming to have lost interest, Chen Ping'an revealed the secret. "It seems like an old acquaintance catching up, but you're actually trying various ways to drag out a few more casual words with me. I know very well that you want me to say a few more words."

Ma Kuxuan admitted this generously, smiling. "I know you know. You're very smart, and I'm not stupid. But I'm curious: when did you realize this?"

The Three Teachings' saints held "words with heavenly decree" and "words that enact laws." On the mountains, there was a more mystical term: "inspiration connects to the divine."

Since this illusion world was inherently false, and Chen Ping'an was like the saint seated in the world, blessed with the advantages of heaven and time, then Ma Kuxuan needed something extra real to avoid "drifting with the current."

For example, words.

The back-and-forth questioning and answering formed a textual knot twisted together by speech.

Back in their hometown, old people, when talking about being old and nearing the end, liked to say, "I'm as old as a bodhisattva."

And when describing a child who was ignorant of worldly affairs and did things vaguely, they would say, "Why are you acting like someone from the heavens?"

Outsiders all considered Ma Kuxuan a genius among geniuses. He never seemed to exert effort, yet he still stood out. That was just natural talent.

In fact, Ma Kuxuan hadn't wasted any of his talents. On the contrary, he had been diligent all these years, waiting for Chen Ping'an for a long time.

Earlier, he had invited Mountain Lord Tong Wenchang to the capital's small courtyard. Besides helping to introduce the female ghost Xue Ruyi, it was also Chen Ping'an's test and measurement of the illusion's authenticity and quality.

Two young men from the same hometown, neither of them straightforward.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Want to chat a bit more?"

Ma Kuxuan said, "No need. This is enough."

Besides the natal flying sword, which was unrelated to words, other things like martial arts from boxing manuals and magical techniques from Daoist scriptures—Chen Ping'an might not be able to use them now.

Wasn't it said that the last Hidden Official of the Sword Qi Great Wall had a low cultivation level but many tricks? Today, weren't you, Chen Ping'an, planning to fight me, Ma Kuxuan, as a martial arts master?

Then let's see.

Ma Kuxuan lifted his hand and lightly patted his neck, squinting. "One by one, these words—once I'm full, you'll go hungry."

Chen Ping'an said, "What doesn't belong to you, you can't keep. You'll have to spit it out and give it back."

Ma Kuxuan stood there and crooked his finger at Chen Ping'an. "The immortal Yun Miao of the Nine True Immortal Lodge—his signature skills of Cloud Water Body and Water Essence Realm—when he sees me, he has to call me ancestor. I'll stand here without moving..."

With some unknown divine ability, Ma Kuxuan instantly entered a state of nothingness, his body like an empty boat.

The next moment, Ma Kuxuan's whole body was struck as if by a hammer. He doubled over and started to retch.

The "blood" he vomited was nothing but shattered golden characters.

Then someone grabbed his face with one hand and his shoulder with the other, and with a crack, twisted his neck.

A "corpse" fell to the ground, motionless.

Chen Ping'an stood there, turned his head to look elsewhere, and flicked his sleeve, scattering all the golden light words imbued with Daoist meaning.

If Ma Kuxuan were this easy to kill, he wouldn't be Ma Kuxuan.

Crouching in the distance on the city wall, Ma Kuxuan looked at that figure with pity.

Chen Ping'an, I've actually taken on a close disciple who has a shallow grudge against you but hates you deeply. You don't even know where his hatred comes from.

As long as you haven't become a fifteenth-realm cultivator, you'll never know who he is, nor guess how he'll take revenge on you, or how many times he'll take revenge on you.

Ma Kuxuan jumped down from the city wall, bounced a few times to stretch his limbs, and said lazily, "Since the warm-up is over, time to get down to business."

The next scene—even with Chen Ping'an's temperament, he couldn't help but want to curse.

It turned out that Ma Kuxuan, always fond of stirring up trouble, had used some unorthodox visualization method to create a... Zhou Mi out of thin air.

---

At the site of the immortal mansion ruins, Chen Ping'an led Yu Shiwu up the stone steps of the mountain path.

Yu Shiwu noticed that the person beside him was frowning, then relaxing his brow. "What's going on?"

Chen Ping'an stopped, turned around, and sat down on the steps. He smiled. "Nothing much. As the Dao rises one foot, the demon rises ten."

Yu Shiwu sat down beside him and said, "A senior from True Martial Mountain once told me a principle, advising me to set up one or two imaginary enemies on my cultivation path."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "Very sensible."

He could roughly guess who it was.

It was Ma Kuxuan's protector; he had been to the Li Zhu Cave Heaven and had met him a few times.

Yu Shiwu asked, "Do you have one too?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Of course. For example, to have a reciprocal exchange with a certain senior."

The swordsmanship of Pei Min.

Courtesy requires reciprocity.

His natal flying sword, the Caged Sparrow.

Here, as long as Chen Ping'an's cultivation was high enough, his spiritual energy plentiful enough, and his sword sharp enough, time and space could be infinitely cut.

In short, even now, if Chen Ping'an wanted to, he could make the Qi practitioner Yu Shiwu forever unable to catch up to a crawling ant.

Yu Shiwu said, "You still haven't said what the second thing is."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Lend yourself to me to catch up with Cao Ci."

Yu Shiwu was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Chen Ping'an said, "Practice punching."

Yu Shiwu instantly understood and was left speechless, stunned.

As expected, "Chen Ping'an" had removed the illusion, and "Yu Shiwu's" true body was far away yet close at hand.

So it turned out that so many intentional words from others were only ever treated by us as unintentional words.

Yu Shiwu's expression was complex. "Is this to deal with Ma Kuxuan?"

Bearing three portions of the military ancestor's martial luck, for the Qi practitioner Yu Shiwu, it was naturally useless, of no benefit. But if it were used by the martial arts master Chen Ping'an?

Would it be equivalent to skipping over one or two steps in martial arts, helping him reach the "Shen to" level of the Ultimate Realm?

Some "paired titles" in the world are not used lightly. Chen Ping'an had two such titles: on the battlefield, "Southern Grace, Northern Hidden Official"; and on the martial path, "White-robed Cao, Blue-clad Chen."

Chen Ping'an looked into the distance and shook his head with a smile. "Completely unnecessary."