Chapter 1093: Snow Light

Chapter 1093: Snow Light

In the mountains, continuous rain reveals spring through the grass and trees.

At the foot of the mountain renamed Zheyao Mountain, the mountain goddess Song Ji, who had changed her shrine's name along with the peak, employed her Qi Observation Technique to gaze into the distant capital of Yuxuan Kingdom.

She had already stopped worrying about the fate of the Ma Clan; she was only anxious that her Zheyao Mountain bordered the capital, fearing it might be caught in the crossfire. She had no idea how great a storm those previous travelers would stir up within the capital. She dreaded this kind of immortal battle that could shatter mountains and split the earth—once the two sides started, they would not hold back. The three drinkers who had earlier taken shelter from the rain in her tavern—Liu Xianyang, current sect leader of the Longquan Sword Sect; Gu Can, the direct disciple of Mr. Zheng of White Emperor City; and Pei Qian, one of the four great Grandmasters of Bottle Gourd Continent—were all top figures on the continent she had never dared to imagine before. Leaving aside their status and strength, Song Ji was, after all, a female mountain god, and she admired the young and world-renowned Grandmaster Pei the most. If not for today's upheaval in Yuxuan, she would have been overjoyed to have Pei drinking in her establishment. Song Ji let out a faint sigh, actually envying those nearby water gods, who could at least avoid the turmoil somewhat. She lifted her skirt to reveal a pair of embroidered shoes, lamenting that the golden statue in her mountain shrine had "no feet to walk."

Just then, an old man who looked like a farmer appeared out of thin air at the entrance, startling Song Ji so much that she nearly fell to her knees in salute. After all, this visitor was her superior's superior, and the difference in their divine ranks was immense. The newcomer was none other than the Western Mountain Lord of the continent, now to be respectfully addressed as Divine Lord Tong Wenchang. With his hands clasped behind his back, he stepped over the threshold first, saying, "No official business today; no need to stand on ceremony. I'm just here to find a place to drink. You're the host, I'm the guest."

Song Ji, though shocked, felt relieved and immediately smoothed her furrowed brow. With Divine Lord Tong here, her humble mountain shrine would surely be safe.

Inside the capital, Gu Can used his Earth Shrinking technique to leave the imperial palace in one step, heading straight to the vicinity of the Bureau of Astronomy. He didn't greet his nominal maidservant, but instead strolled through the street shops like a tourist. In a bookstore selling rare editions, he casually browsed through books, picking out one attributed to a so-called True Man—a book of immortals—and placed it prominently on the counter for the shopkeeper. Among the common folk, such books weren't very popular. Gu Can flipped open a page that described how mountain immortals cooked various medicinal dishes. According to the book, the immortals' wild vegetarian fare was wonderfully subtle: eating it would refresh the spirit without fattening the flesh, turning turbid qi into lightness. Over time, the eater's body would become as light as a leaf, able to walk briskly as if flying, traversing mountains and rivers as if on level ground... Gu Can shook his head with a smile. For a Qi refiner entering the mountains to cultivate, reaching that realm of levitation was not so simple. However, there was a notable annotation in the book that struck the essence: "Ancient True Ones refined immortal elixirs, gathering herbs from remote mountains."

A seductive woman sauntered into the shop, deliberately stumbling, twisting her waist as if to fall into Gu Can's arms. Without even looking up, Gu Can extended a hand, pressing it against her forehead, and pushed her away. The bookseller widened his eyes in surprise; he hadn't expected this customer, who only looked without buying, to be such a gentleman. If it had been him, he might have "helped" her up but couldn't guarantee where his hands would land on that beautiful body.

The woman straightened up, covering her mouth with a laugh. "Young master, your journey has been smooth so far?"

Gu Can ignored her and instead asked the shopkeeper, "Do you have any prints of 'A Hundred Sword Immortals'?"

The shopkeeper was confused. "Which master seal-carver compiled it? May I ask if it's an original rubbing or a reprinted edition?"

Gu Can smiled, put down the book, and left the shop with Gu Lingyan. Walking down a relatively quiet alley, he briefly examined the harvest from Gu Lingyan's trip, pocketing it all with a mediocre evaluation: "Passable."

Gu Lingyan pulled a mountain-ghost coin-shaped spatial artifact from her sleeve, grinning as she showed it off. "And this."

Gu Can asked, "What is it?"

Gu Lingyan said, "Just some old calendars from different years, plus some professional books related to calendars. Mathematics isn't my forte; they give me a headache, so I stuffed them all into this inch-space item."

Gu Can sent a thread of divine sense to inspect the coin's contents. He glanced through a few things, picked out only some thin booklets as if choosing the best, and tossed the spatial artifact back to her. "Return the rest of the calendars to the Bureau of Astronomy."

Since ancient times, human dynasties had established the practice of compiling and issuing calendars. Some busybodies in the mountains enjoyed collecting these, treasuring calendars from different dynasties and years. However, Gu Can only kept the regulated calendars compiled by predecessors, along with some attached corrections of solar and lunar tables. He seemed uninterested in the calendars themselves. Seeing her reluctant expression, Gu Can roughly explained, "According to common folk sayings, if you collect a full sixty-year cycle of calendars, your house will suffer a disaster of fire."

Gu Lingyan blinked. "What does that mean?"

Gu Can said, "It means your house is prone to catching fire—a fire disaster."

Gu Lingyan asked, "Really?"

Gu Can replied, "Some things are better believed than disbelieved. No need to test the truth by risking it yourself."

Seeming in a good mood, Gu Can rarely chatted with her. "If there's a flood disaster caused by a comet, the imperial courts will 'invite out' a complete set of sixty-year calendars to perform suppression rites. That's why the places where the Bureau of Astronomy stores calendars from various dynasties have certain conventions—for example, the name of the library building usually includes a character with the water radical, like 'abyss,' 'source,' '溯,' '津,' and so on."

She nodded vigorously like a chicken pecking rice.

Gu Can suddenly asked, "Where did this mountain-ghost coin come from?"

Gu Lingyan smiled charmingly. "There are immortal ferry ports and market streets in the Barren Wilds too, you know. Can't I be lucky enough to pick up a bargain?"

Mountain-ghost coins were used to distinguish them from orthodox mountain gods. Those that had been consecrated by temples were considered pure yang objects, suitable for warding off evil in homes and for wearing as pendants.

Even in the mountains, such coins were quite popular because there was no worry about inviting gods being easier than sending them away—they were effective for furnace-stoking and treasury-guarding.

Gu Can said, "Worth some money. Keep it well."

Gu Lingyan asked, "Has the young master still not decided on the sect's location?"

Gu Can nodded. "It's not a small matter. Anyway, there's no rush; I'll look at a few more places."

Gu Lingyan laughed. "In other words, you're hesitating. You can't make up your mind."

He had gone so far as to offend the Lingfei Palace and intervene to buy the Hehuan Mountain territory from the Qingxing Kingdom, which was described as "Little Shujian Lake."

Gu Can couldn't possibly be bothered by having too much money.

In the end, Gu Can was conflicted. Impulsively, he wanted to establish his sect in that Hehuan Mountain territory, to do something to prove something to someone.

But reason told him that such a choice was a brainless, idiotic move.

Gu Can didn't want to discuss this with her. He shifted his mind elsewhere and laughed to himself.

She asked curiously, "Did the young master think of something amusing?"

Gu Can laughed. "Around Bottle Gourd Continent, information is scarce, so they don't know much. But elsewhere, there are some interesting sayings. They think he came from a scholarly family, steeped in poetry and books from childhood. The reasoning is amusing: 'Look at his hundred works—how could they be the words of a commoner?'"

She covered her mouth and laughed; it was indeed funny.

Gu Can continued, "Even those who know his rough background, that he's a barefoot nobody, say it's 'a poor family giving birth to a noble son, a humble house producing a high official.' They claim, 'Young Master Chen has harbored grand ambitions to establish great merits for heaven and earth since his youth.'"

Thinking of these accolades, Gu Can wanted to laugh.

She cautiously said, "If not for the deliberate concealment by the Zhongtu Confucian Temple, wouldn't he have been addressed as 'Master Chen' instead of merely 'Young Master Chen'?"

Gu Can brushed it off with a smile.

"Young master, have you ever thought about what kind of person you want to be in this life?"

"I've only thought about what kind of person I don't want to be."

"Give me an example."

"Like you—an embroidered pillow that looks good but is useless."

"Oh my, young master, useless or not, you've never tried it."

Rain falls from the sky, flows on the ground; quarrels at the head of the bed, make up at the foot—haha.

They arrived at a place where Gu Can stopped. Gu Lingyan asked curiously, "Young master, what is this?"

Gu Can said, "Waiting for someone. We agreed to meet here."

Gu Lingyan grew even more curious. "Is there a hidden expert in the palace?"

Gu Can said, "Not so many bargains to be found. The national preceptor Huang Lie, at the Golden Core stage. I'm recruiting him as a guest elder for the sect. He's familiar with mountain customs and official rules; he can help handle some mundane affairs."

Gu Lingyan asked, "Needed?"

Gu Can said, "White Emperor City doesn't need it, but my sect does."

This was a slightly spiritual scenic spot in the capital called Moon Mirror Pond, where various colored carp were raised. The common folk of Yuxuan's capital had a tradition of releasing fish here. A pavilion was built by the pond, with an ancient mirror hanging from its eaves. The couplets were old and faded, reading: "Fish, shrimp, turtles, and snakes need not flee; this light only shines on dragons and serpents." Legend had it that during full moon nights, the water surface here was especially bright and clear, sparkling—just as the couplet claimed, no empty words. Gu Can hadn't entered the pavilion but stopped at the entrance of a nearby Taoist temple. Nestled in a bustling market, it was a cold, unpopular temple that passersby would miss. Gu Lingyan looked at the small, quiet temple. Its door couplet was also strange: "A host of spirits combine to have spirit; who knows the caster and founder." It seemed like half a couplet... Gu Lingyan instantly understood—could it be that the pavilion's couplet formed the other half? With that, she took a second and a half look at this desolate little temple named "Chongyang." Unfortunately, she wasn't skilled in Qi Observation, so she couldn't see more secrets. As for the idea of some lofty immortal living here in seclusion, she didn't take it seriously or care much. For one, the temple's spiritual energy was thin; besides, what qualified as a lofty immortal? She herself was a Jade Capable of good aptitude. Could there be an immortal sitting inside, refining pills for ascension?

She turned to look. A... not-so-young Golden Core earthly immortal arrived.

Was he the owner of this temple?

Gu Can asked with a smile, "All done with the handover?"

Huang Lie nodded. "I told Xue Pang exactly as you instructed. When he heard it was you, his face looked like he'd eaten shit. He didn't dare say anything."

Suddenly realizing the metaphor might be inappropriate, the old man quickly laughed. "Poor choice of words, forgive me. Anyway, both sides were polite—parted on good terms."

Gu Can said, "You can speak more freely from now on. If Xue Pang could tolerate a national preceptor who picked lice and took off boots, my tolerance is at least a bit greater than his."

Huang Lie laughed. "That's good to hear. On the way here, I was worrying that Sect Leader Gu might turn his back on me once I was in the door."

Gu Can shook his head. "You still don't understand White Emperor City. Rumors spread by hearsay are unreliable. Within White Emperor City, register-born native cultivators who go out on business are more wild; the mountain wild cultivators who join later are actually more bound by rules."

Huang Lie cautiously said, "Do I have a chance to take a look around White Emperor City—just a glimpse of its general appearance? I'm genuinely curious and longing for it, with a heart that has yearned for a long time."

Gu Can said, "In the future, the threshold for White Emperor City will only get higher. This matter isn't easy, but it can be discussed—for instance, after you reach the Nascent Soul stage."

Gu Lingyan seemed to only now notice this person. She smiled sweetly, with a sarcastic tone, "Oh my, how impressive! An old immortal at the Golden Core stage."

Huang Lie laughed heartily. "So-so, average."

Gu Can glanced at her and warned, "Speak human language."

She clearly knew when to listen. Graciously, she turned sideways and performed a curtsey. "Your servant Lingyan greets the senior. I've been with the young master only a short time; I don't understand the rules and etiquette. I humbly ask the senior to forgive me."

Gu Can introduced her. "She goes by the alias Lingyan now. She's from the Barren Wilds, a Jade Capable cultivator of good aptitude."

Huang Lie wasn't surprised at all. The esteemed disciple of City Lord Zheng—wouldn't he need some entourage when going out? Having a Jade Capable personal maidservant wasn't anything to make a fuss over.

Even so, the old Golden Core couldn't help feeling a pang. This seemingly frail young woman was an unattainable Jade Capable, and from the Barren Wilds, no less.

Huang Lie couldn't help but ask curiously, "What kind of person is Mountain Lord Chen? Is it like White Emperor City—where the true inner reality differs greatly from outside rumors?"

Gu Can laughed. "You don't need to keep using him to test me."

Huang Lie tensed. "I wouldn't dare. Sect Leader Gu misunderstands."

Gu Can said, "Then try not to make me misunderstand."

It was only at this moment that Huang Lie began to truly understand the unique style of White Emperor City's register cultivators.

Gu Lingyan laughed until she was shaking.

Gu Can asked, "What is this place?"

Huang Lie laughed. "Historically, this was a family temple built with donations from high officials. It was originally called Alchemy Temple, now renamed Chongyang."

Gu Can nodded. "I noticed earlier that this place has good feng shui—relatively speaking, for your Yuxuan capital. It's called Alchemy Temple? That explains why I felt it was a good place for alchemy. The name change is good; I suspect a true expert. 'A waterfront pavilion gets the moonlight first.' The predecessor deliberately chose this place to refine 'water elixir,' no doubt. Adding the name 'Chongyang' gives some enhancement. 'A giant bellows melts things, a grand furnace molds metal; purple light gradually emerges, red qi deepens.' I expect a so-called earthly immortal will appear here someday. As for how long—decades or centuries—I'm an outsider when it comes to Qi Observation, so I wouldn't know."

Qi Observation differs from ordinary immortal arts and psychic powers, as well as from the so-called Heavenly Eye. Their roots and uses are different. This technique is similar to talismanic arts; the threshold is high, relying on the learner's talent and bone structure. Success or failure seems not in human hands but determined by heaven. Only mountain and water spirits—even unorthodox shrines without imperial recognition—once they have a golden statue and establish a temple, can immediately master this art. Apart from various Bureaus of Astronomy, it's mainly wandering hermits and physiognomists.

Huang Lie said, "Shall we go in and ask for a cup of tea?"

Gu Can shook his head. "Let's go somewhere else. Walk wherever we end up."

The red dust of the world permeates the body; the celestial crucible forges the golden elixir.

Everyone says immortals are good; one golden elixir grants eternal life. They don't know the difficulty of cultivation—the heart may be refined to ashes.

Walking and stopping, gazing sorrowfully at the willow leaves, following spring deeper.

Within Chen Ping'an's mind-realm.

On the city wall, behind Ma Kuxuan stood Zhou Mi, like an unorthodox shrine deity among the mountains and rivers, his golden body gleaming, a faint smile on his face—almost as if he were just short of saying, "Finally we meet again."

Though he knew it must be false, Chen Ping'an still felt strange. He frowned and asked, "How did you do it?"

Ma Kuxuan, unfazed, said, "Soul-summoning."

Ma Kuxuan's eyes burned with intensity, as if he had set a grand puzzle for Chen Ping'an to solve. "You've always had a good memory, haven't you? Around Apricot Flower Lane and Mud Vase Lane back then, weren't things like this common? Have you forgotten? A child gets frightened, loses his soul; the parents lead him through the streets and wilderness, calling his name all the way, to help the lost wandering soul return home. How many ancestral folk traditions have been lost? I just picked one up again. How about it? Startled you, didn't it? To make the widely-seen Hidden Official Chen, Sword Immortal, so wary—worth all the scheming and the countless yin merits I've wasted. Not a loss."

Chen Ping'an asked, "Have you considered the consequences?"

The heaven-human resonance that cultivators yearn for is about the connection between man and heaven. Aren't you afraid that Zhou Mi, occupying the former Heavenly Court, might connect with the mortal world? Descend to earth? What if that happens? Especially at this critical moment when the Three Teachings' Patriarchs have already scattered their Dao.

Ma Kuxuan laughed as if he'd heard the funniest joke. "You've come to kill me, and you're advising me not to smash the pot? What am I saving these trump cards for—to use when worshipping ancestors next year?"

Chen Ping'an was silent.

Ma Kuxuan stared hard at that grudge-holding fellow and said solemnly, "I'll give you two choices now. Either you immediately withdraw from the Ma Clan, and old grievances are written off. I'll persuade them to give up the idea of enjoying incense offerings and achieving immortal divinity. Day by day, their bodies will age, and they'll die natural deaths. Or, to avenge a personal grudge, you risk dragging the entire human world into the vortex and go to war with me. Of course, it's only a risk—I'm not saying this soul-summoned one here necessarily has the power to harm the world. You can bet."

Chen Ping'an said, "You're mistaken. The consequences I'm talking about aren't much related to this world. I'm good at starting from scratch and cleaning up messes—like a swallow gathering mud. What I'm talking about is you yourself. Do you really want next Qingming Festival, Ma Yanshan and Ma Yuemei to toast a few cups to you, their brother whom they see as the family pillar? Ma the Shamaness of Apricot Flower Lane delivered me. Your grandmother may not care about old ties, but I do. This was a transaction, one of many she did. But I heard when I was young that my mother had a difficult and dangerous labor giving birth to me. That's why my father left his original Baoxi kiln and went to your family's kiln to be a master potter and take apprentices—in gratitude for that favor. The Ma family of Apricot Flower Lane has its own family values; the Chen family of Mud Vase Lane has its own family traditions. That's why I kept advising you not to go too far, to leave yourself a way out. I can wait for you to come seek revenge later."

Ma Kuxuan was silent for a moment, then said, "Then you're also mistaken. I don't intend to take revenge for them someday. It's only because they gave birth to me that I want to repay that debt. Once that debt is cleared, we're even. So your coming to settle accounts is a deadlock between us. When I was young, why did I earn that bag of money and deliberately leak the news that you and Ning Yao were hiding in Immortal's Tomb? Do you think I was greedy for those golden essence copper coins? Why did I think we were on the same path—among all the peers in Pear Blossom Cave Heaven, I found you the most agreeable—and yet I deliberately intensified the karma between us? It was so that on the day we met, we could settle life and death quickly, without any hesitation. No matter who died, the grievances between our families would be settled. But your performance today makes me..."

Ma Kuxuan paused slightly before slowly uttering two words: "Disappointed."

Chen Ping'an said, "Ma Kuxuan, it's not me who's conflicted; it's you. Because you've never truly accepted your origins. Deep down, you detest your clear-cut origins and cannot see tomorrow's fate. That's why you made Yu Shiwu, who shared your circumstances, your only friend. Neither accepting where you came from nor finding where you're going, you became a rootless duckweed in this world."

"If yesterday was all wrong, then tomorrow will only bring more mistakes. So you've been waiting for today."

With that, Chen Ping'an took a deep breath and smiled, rolling up his sleeves. "I know that feeling—because I've walked that path myself. You're right, we are on the same road, at least for a long stretch."

Ma Kuxuan said, "Pity we're destined never to be friends. So let's make this long-awaited 'today' clean and sharp. Not like that Qingshen Mountain wine from your tavern—everyone who drinks it frowns. I tried it, even had someone bring two jugs. It's terrible."

Chen Ping'an smiled faintly. "Such nonsense—clearly from someone who doesn't love drinking. The experience depends on the place. In a tavern, you just throw down a snow-flower coin, get your wine, drink it on the spot, and that's it. But having a friend bring it all the way from Sword Qi Great Wall across Hanging Mountain to Bottle Gourd Continent, then to Zhenwu Mountain into your hands—the same wine, could it taste the same? You weren't expecting the flavor of a single snow-flower coin."

Ma Kuxuan asked with a smile, "Suddenly so talkative?"

Chen Ping'an pointed at the two-zhang-tall "Zhou Mi." "Just wanted to see how long this fellow could last. You're at the Immortal realm. If you'd summoned a fourteenth-level false image, you wouldn't waste half a word with me, and I'd be happy to avoid battle and stall. If it were a flying-ascension-tier thug, given your temper, you'd force yourself to chat a few sentences for face, then cut me off, and I'd fight and retreat. Now it seems it's at most a pseudo-ascension—Immortal realm with a few flying-ascension trump cards up its sleeve. Light an incense stick, manifest in person, and last quite a while. That's why you're not anxious?"

Ma Kuxuan clicked his tongue. "True to being a sword cultivator—despicable, truly despicable."

Heavy snow began to fall from the sky, thick and dense. Whether it fell from above or rose from below was unclear.

Ma Kuxuan had heard that sword cultivators of Sword Qi Great Wall, regardless of realm, had no graves after death, hence no custom of ancestor worship.

This snow—the city wall was like a grave mound, the endless snowflakes like countless white spirit money, mourning the heroic spirits.

People become ancients; places become ruins. All are gone.

Ma Kuxuan smiled brightly and called out, "Chen Ping'an."

Chen Ping'an was puzzled. "Hmm?"

In an instant, a strange phenomenon erupted. The entire sky condensed into a pool of thunderbolts—mighty and grand, like a tribulation summoned by a great cultivator in seclusion. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning as thick as a mountain peak split from it, turned several times in midair, then straightened into a single line, growing finer but containing even more astonishing Dao resonance—like a golden flying sword crashing toward Chen Ping'an. Just as the golden thunder was about to strike Chen Ping'an's head, a rumbling sound came from around the thunder pool near the sky. Whether Chen Ping'an had nowhere to dodge or wanted to test the weight of this "heavenly thunder," he didn't move. Instead, he threw a fist upward to meet it. At the "sword tip," it exploded with a bang, scattering countless golden sparks within a hundred zhang radius, making Chen Ping'an appear as if he were in a forge of casting swords and striking iron.

But this single sword—or falling thunder—was not weaker than the full-force strike of a Jade Capable sword cultivator.

And Ma Kuxuan hadn't used a single strand of spiritual energy, no talisman, no incantation to summon thunder.

In total, the thunder came in five colors, exactly following the cycle of the five elements, endlessly generating from the thunder pool, giving Chen Ping'an no chance to catch his breath, striking the city wall one after another.

"Five Thunderbolts Striking the Crown"—this was originally a Daoist term. Because of its overwhelming power and deep impression, common folks and heroes of the jianghu always loved to say, "If I break my oath, may the clouds appear above my head and five thunders strike me dead."

Ma Kuxuan had already moved with the earth lines to another location far from the battlefield, smiling faintly. "Thousands of mortal techniques are mastered by Qi refiners; but divine abilities are my family's business."

After enduring who knew how many dozen heavenly thunders, Chen Ping'an's fists were bloody and shredded, white bone visible. His entire arm went numb; he had to shake it, sending a long string of electric light that coiled around his arm like a dozen white lightning snakes, which he shook off to the ground.

Chen Ping'an was a bit puzzled. Why hadn't Ma Kuxuan taken the chance to throw out a few more thunder techniques?

Earlier, in his words about the Celestial Master Mansion of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, Ma Kuxuan seemed arrogant, not thinking highly of the Celestial Master Mansion's Five Thunder True Method, even feeling qualified to teach Zhao Tianlai the true meaning of thunder techniques. Ma Kuxuan might be proud, but he didn't think himself superior to Zhao Tianlai in technical skill. However, Ma Kuxuan was a reincarnated deity, originating from the Thunder Department of the ancient Heavenly Court, so he was justified in claiming orthodox thunder techniques.

Ma Kuxuan called out from afar, "You deliberately don't take time to breathe, so cocky, instead wanting to sharpen your fist intent and temper your physique at the same time. You tenth-tier martial artists—how impressive, envious, so envious."

As he spoke, the thunder tribulation pool grew heavier, pressing down massively, suffocating. That vast thunder pool, condensed from immeasurable ancient Dao intent, was like a deep pool of water. Ma Kuxuan used his great divine ability to channel a ditch, guiding it onto Chen Ping'an. It created a situation like pouring water from a river into a well. In one go, the lightning, thick with Dao intent like slurry, struck so frequently that the bolt followed bolt without break, turning the intermittent thunderclaps into a continuous roll of thunder, as if a divine being in the clouds was beating a drum with someone's ear pressed against its surface. Even Chen Ping'an, in the midst of it, was shaken so that Ma Kuxuan himself felt a suffocation in his chest. He reached out to rub his ears and sneered, "Even a mind-realm illusion is ultimately false."

A Sword Qi Great Wall had already collapsed from hundreds of thunderbolts. The figure in the bright red dharma robe stood among the ruins, continuing to bear the tribulation with his fists. With each punch, billions of sparks burst forth in a gorgeous, dazzling spectacle—hard to tell if it was a sea of fire or the stars strewn across the endless void.

"You still dare to say you'll only fight as a martial artist? Will you truly not use Earth Shrinking or sword evasion?"

"I want to see how long a Stopping Realm Grandmaster's pure true qi can last."

According to Ma Kuxuan's calculation, when Chen Ping'an's new and old qi had yet to connect during a breath exchange, he would reward him with a "Divine Hand."

Cultivators' human bodies are themselves a "blessed land"—flesh, blood, muscles, bones are mountains and rivers. So-called cultivation uses a Bridge of Longevity to connect a "cave heaven" and refine the spirit within. Buddhism says the human body is rare and hard to obtain—never a lie. Among all beings, humans are the most spiritual. Why do all enlightened demon clans on the earth strive to attain a human form? Naturally, because it's advantageous. With a human body, cultivation is twice the result with half the effort. In a sense, humanity is... a free deity.

The scale of this thunder tribulation pool should have been enough to completely suppress a Jade Capable sword cultivator, crush him to dust, annihilate his soul without hope of reincarnation. Even if a peak cultivator could enter and leave the Netherworld, he couldn't salvage the situation. With this unique divine ability, killing a Jade Capable or severely injuring an Immortal was already the limit of Ma Kuxuan's "human power." If he sought even a sliver more, Ma Kuxuan would have to pay a strictly equal price—entering the divine path, returning to a divine position, becoming a god!

And this trend was irreversible. So if he went further and stole even a bit more heavenly secrets, Ma Kuxuan would completely abandon all emotions and desires, no longer bound by karma, even if he retained this life's memories. So it was a paradox: if he wanted to use more divine power to become immensely mighty and obliterate an Immortal, Ma Kuxuan would cease to be Ma Kuxuan. Since this path had reached its end for now, Ma Kuxuan had prepared some other gifts on another path as his hospitality.

At the bottom of the collapsed area, amidst the falling snow, golden lightning wildly roamed and thrashed.

Human power must eventually be exhausted, but the master of the bright red dharma robe showed no sign of weakening in his explosive fist intent.

Could Chen Ping'an really "devour" all the thunderbolts in one go?

Ma Kuxuan asked curiously, "Are all Stopping Realm martial artists this powerful?"

Ma Kuxuan was an expert in cultivation junctions, with extremely high insight, but he had never personally touched martial arts and knew little.

The "Zhou Mi" beside him replied, "Because he is unprecedented in the 'vigorous qi' realm, uniquely gifted by heaven, that allows him to endure longer."

Ma Kuxuan twitched the corner of his mouth. "If he has the skill to endure, that's fine—it's actually a good thing."

Zhou Mi made no comment.

Ma Kuxuan laughed heartily and slapped his knee. "After he breaks free, he'll definitely complain to me: 'Your methods are too despicable!' Right?"

Zhou Mi reminded him, "He's still in the formation. It's too early to be happy."

After all, this "Wen Hai Zhou Mi" that Ma Kuxuan had summoned through planchette was created by Ma Kuxuan's ancient secret method of visualization, "smelted and cast" using the innate divine abilities of two of the Twelve High Deities of antiquity simultaneously. It was far from comparable to ordinary puppets. Ma Kuxuan named it "Soul-Summoning," which secretly matched heavenly mysteries and was not inappropriate.

Zhou Mi smiled faintly. "Man fights for breath; gods receive incense. Indeed, it fits."

On the earth, Chen Ping'an's fist techniques had become so simple that there were almost no moves left—beyond any mold.

His fist intent was so grand and unmatched that it was like a deity not bound by incense offerings, breaking all shackles and walking among men.

Ma Kuxuan's face was illuminated by the golden light and snow, radiant. He watched fixedly at that battlefield, a place where the martial artist seemed undefeated before opponents, only contending with heaven.

Thousands of mountain techniques unfolded dazzlingly; they were beautiful to behold, but in Ma Kuxuan's eyes, they were ultimately not as satisfying as relying solely on fists.

Pity that his approach to Yu Shiwu had initially been with ulterior motives. He ultimately couldn't bear to make a move on that friend—to do a dove-in-crow's-nest, borrowing a corpse to return a soul.

Ma Kuxuan couldn't help but sigh, "Really a freak."

Zhou Mi said, "Unlike flying-ascension cultivators, there are few contemporary martial artists who can reach the 'Spirit Reaching' level. Opportunities to spar and exchange blows are even rarer."

Ma Kuxuan said, "Putting myself in his shoes, even if I converted the paper strength to match, I couldn't take this thunder pool as casually as he does."

Zhou Mi said, "It's composure."

The existence of heavenly tribulation is not only a dangerous juncture for cultivators that cannot be avoided. Its terror can be seen in historical records of those who had to relinquish their bodies to escape the tribulation. Additionally, there is a deeper principle: the fall of heavenly tribulation can cut off merits and sever worldly karma.

If one's learning is not thorough and ends up dead and Dao dissolved, that's simply returning borrowed things to their owner. But if one successfully overcomes the tribulation, it benefits the Dao—helping the adept to have a clear Dao heart, a pure Dao body untainted by the mortal world. Otherwise, why would enlightened beings imparting heavenly mysteries earnestly emphasize waiting until merits are complete to face tribulation and attain immortality?

However, if the tribulation is man-made, the difference is vast. One misstep, and the five thunders can cut the three flowers atop the head and extinguish the hard-gathered five qi of the human body.

What Ma Kuxuan wanted to do was to deprive the young Hidden Official and Patriarch of Fallen Mountain of his words and deeds merits, stripping away the mysterious heavenly protection.

This could reverse the situation, making Chen Ping'an temporarily lose "heaven's favor." Regardless of whether he relied on flying swords or other methods to turn the tables, Ma Kuxuan would do the same in turn.

Moreover, Ma Kuxuan had more subtle uses.

Ma Kuxuan fixed his gaze on that fellow and murmured, "Cut away all his merits—not permanently, just for a moment."

When a person's merits are exhausted, they become a down-on-his-luck wretch. The old saying goes, "When fortune is strong, man bullies ghosts; when fortune is weak, ghosts trouble man." That's the principle.

Why do mountain and water spirits now honor some travelers passing by? Either appear to see them off or secretly protect them? Why do city god temples have a separate red-inked register?

All of this stems from ancient times when Sage Li reformed the system, including a new "Heavenly Law": for Qi refiners and mountain-water deities who have merits among the people, their lands and ranks shall be increased.

Human merits are divided into yin and yang. What is yin virtue? Like a ringing in the ears—only the self hears it; others cannot know. There is often an admonition: "Gaining wealth and honor and establishing glory is not as good as planting yin virtue." The word "plant" leaks heavenly secrets again: the heart-mind is a field of blessings. If the field is barren and the water source dry, what harvest can be expected next year? This is not empty talk to "deceive" people into goodness. Just consider a certain Daoist lineage's strict requirements for disciples: they must complete three thousand merits and eight hundred good deeds.

People have a heart for the Dao, a will to become immortal, a wish that soars to heaven, yet without proper fortune, they cannot progress.

For commoners in the marketplace, encountering a benefactor on life's path and not missing that opportunity—that is a chance that comes through human effort and also contains hidden fate.

If one picks up gold and silver in one's own field, and if one can expand that field to encompass all of heaven and earth, that is cultivation.

Zhou Mi suddenly said, "Chen Ping'an's merits are too few, far below expectations—almost unreasonably few. He must have encountered something that caused him to voluntarily scatter his... Dao."

Ma Kuxuan smiled indifferently. "No matter. Whether his merits are many or few doesn't affect the big picture. I just want a clean result. This technique to cut three flowers and extinguish five qi—if there is more, I take away; if there is less, I make up the difference. I'll smash a hole in his fate and see what he uses to fill the gap."

Ma Kuxuan stood up. "Enough."

The thunder pool hanging high in the sky, vast as a great lake, had diminished to a thin layer, barely enough to support a few more cycles of the five-element heavenly thunder.

Zhou Mi nodded. "Please issue the divine decree."

Ma Kuxuan dared not be careless; he spoke a few words with his heart voice.

This "Wen Hai Zhou Mi" then obeyed the decree, employing a divine ability that "Zhou Mi's true body" had never had a chance to display on the battlefield of the mortal world.

Without giving Chen Ping'an a chance to catch his breath, an intangible divine ability attached itself to Chen Ping'an. In that instant, Chen Ping'an's body sank, forming a huge crater on the ground, covered with a spiderweb of cracks.

Only a pure martial artist at the Stopping Realm's "Spirit Reaching" level could avoid needing to breathe; this is why even within the Stopping Realm, each level is still as different as cloud and mud.

Cause and effect itself is unrelated to good or evil, but cause and effect bring different advantages and disadvantages. Then a person's blessings, fortune, merits, and luck will "fight," intertwining, increasing and decreasing, offsetting each other, finally settling at a certain baseline—becoming what a physiognomist's qi observation sees as a person's "current countenance."

Chen Ping'an, who had been punching carelessly and walking calmly, frowned. Instantly, he shook his arms and shrugged his shoulders, as if trying to shake off something attached to him.

Just this action brought gusts of gale that rolled across the ground like thunder, expanding the crater by several times, flattening dozens of miles of terrain into plain.

As for the few thunderbolts, Chen Ping'an casually swatted them away without any pain.

Chen Ping'an shook his sleeves and looked up at Ma Kuxuan, who had moved to the "cliff's edge."

Ma Kuxuan's laughter reached his ears. "Take it."

Ma Kuxuan smiled faintly. "I heard Mountain Lord Chen loves to play the good man and talk reason his whole life. Then let me make you truly understand a principle: being a good man also comes with a price."

Chen Ping'an nodded with a smile. "I like those words. So you weren't boasting. Worthy of being a kindred spirit and confidant."

Ma Kuxuan pointed at Chen Ping'an's shoulder. "Every man above men carries a ghost on his back."

"I merely manifested it. With enough merits, you wouldn't have noticed this strangeness. Among the common folk, there's often a saying: if a person lacks yang qi, their neck feels cold, their back chills, and they always feel something behind them, not knowing if it's human or ghost, right?"

"Those who have roamed the jianghu and stained their hands with blood—when they are strong-boned and fierce, it's nothing. But when they grow old, their qi weak, their spirit insufficient, then see what it looks like. Hah, why do jianghu wanderers always say 'Grievances don't extend to family' and insist on a ceremonial washing of hands? Why do officials most fear being implicated in family exterminations? It's because they fear the effect without knowing the cause."

"Those who died directly by your hand, those who died indirectly because of you, those you met on travels, those who stayed at Shujian Lake, those who dwelled at Sword Qi Great Wall—whether they deserved to die or died unjustly, be they human ghosts, demons, or deities from the demon clans—they are all now on your back."

Chen Ping'an was indeed pressed down, knees slightly bent, body stooped—a posture of unbearable burden, not feigned.

Ma Kuxuan asked with a smile, "Have you ever seen the hardship of a porter's work crossing mountains? The kind of straw-basket carriers, moving like snakes through the hills. I think you're not much different from them now."

Chen Ping'an countered calmly, "Have you seen female porters?"

Ma Kuxuan was taken aback.

Chen Ping'an said, "I have. Do you know how they use bamboo shoots?"

Ma Kuxuan stared silently for a long time, then sighed, "Allow me to force myself, against my nature, to say a rare human word: Chen Ping'an, you shouldn't take the sufferings of others in this world so heavily."

Zhou Mi reminded, "Don't delay."

Ma Kuxuan nodded. "Then continue. Complete the three hammer strikes."

The figure in the bright red dharma robe extended a palm, clearly signaling Ma Kuxuan not to hold back, to do his worst.

The "Zhou Mi" suddenly changed expression.

Ma Kuxuan asked in confusion, "Can't shape it? Has some fourteenth-level cultivator foreknown and set up some protective charm on Chen Ping'an?"

Zhou Mi shook his head. "It's stranger than that."

"First you use human power to create heavenly tribulation, then a secret technique to reveal cause and effect. Next, are you going to simulate a cultivator's inner demon?"

Chen Ping'an sneered. "If that's the case, as I expected, these three hammer strikes are truly extraordinary. Ordinary immortals might not withstand them."

Ma Kuxuan's unactivated techniques alone would have already left any opposing immortal dead or wounded.

The originally pitch-black sky cracked open with a sliver of light, a hole torn open. A flash of golden light—a brilliant sword beam fell straight down.

The tip of the sword pointed nowhere else.

Right at Chen Ping'an.

It cut nothing other than himself.

The bright red dharma robe on his body had already shed itself, darting away earlier to another location.

A person in blue robes with a sword on his back walked out of the Ma Clan ancestral hall and entered this realm. "Finally meeting."

Standing still, spreading his hands, the bright red dharma robe donned itself on him.

Chen Ping'an smiled faintly. "Not easy—actually forcing my true body to come here and meet you."