Chapter 1104: Teaching Fist and Preaching Dao Equally
Standing at the mountain summit were a single strand of Chen Ping'an's mind and the Sword Holder.
Earlier, they had traveled together beyond the heavens, hurrying to a secret sword-forging location.
The Martial Forefather laughed scornfully, "Putting on airs, finally looking like a person now."
It was both the greatest praise and the greatest mockery.
Chen Ping'an smiled faintly. "A lifetime of stubbornness led me to this day, so many old friends on the road have withered away. Back then, if it weren't for you and that group of sword cultivators wanting to occupy the Old Heavenly Court, splitting away from the Three Foundational Patriarchs and causing the first schism in the mortal world, your Martial Sect would have established a religion long ago, and you wouldn't have ended up being first jointly executed and then imprisoned for ten thousand years. Thinking about it now, do you regret it or not?"
The Martial Forefather strode up the mountain, sneering, "Identity changed, tone changed too. The pure Martial Realm martial artist you were before wouldn't have dared speak to me like this. Rain falling from the sky, haha, rain ascending to heaven. Three Foundational Patriarchs, aren't you afraid that after a long time, you'll be dissolved into the Dao? That heavenly court up there is unbreakable, they can only surround and trap it. Sitting blankly across from Zhou Mi and that group of new gods for ten thousand years, staring at each other, both sides just glaring. Now another court appears in the mortal world—isn't that a disaster?"
Zhou Mi ascended to heaven, Chen Ping'an stayed on earth. Each claiming half.
Of course, that doesn't mean Zhou Mi or Chen Ping'an is the reincarnation of that Heavenly Court Lord from ten thousand years ago. Whether it's Haoran's Jia Sheng or Chen Ping'an from the Mud Vial Alley, they both gradually arrived at their current positions step by step, as if they had split the inheritance equally.
The Martial Forefather was struck down from the mountain peak by a single sword slash, falling back to the foot. The burly man simply reached out, grabbed the abundant sword qi clinging to him like a troublesome river of time, and casually tossed it far away. Several thousand miles off, earth-shattering tremors sounded. Without even looking, the burly man simply resumed his climb.
This time, without a word, he silently walked to the mountainside. Then he was struck by another magnificent sword light, cascading down like a heavenly waterfall, and sent tumbling back to the foot.
The sword qi gathered and didn't disperse, filling the mountain. The Martial Forefather opened a path with his fists, punching through to create a huge opening, moving upstream as he laughed loudly: "Floating and fragile, soft and weak. Compared to ten thousand years ago, your sword intent has diminished rather than increased. It seems that battle with the Armor Bearer cost you no small amount of divinity. Ha! Dogs fighting, fur flying everywhere. If we're talking pitiable and lamentable, how can I compare to you two dogs and bitches—half the bearer of the Heavenly Court Lord's divinity, half the new master of that 'fallen' place, plus the once most lethal Sword Holder..."
The third sword split the burly man's form in two, but the latter instantly restored his original appearance. He neither continued climbing nor spoke again, just standing there on the mountainside.
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Three strikes delivered, enough courtesy."
The tall woman smiled and nodded.
Only then did the Martial Forefather openly return to the mountaintop, his mood gloomy. Yet thinking of two matters, he held back. A man of distinction distinguishes between gratitude and grievance. Looking at Chen Ping'an now, he seemed slightly more agreeable.
Chen Ping'an studied this Martial Forefather, suddenly feeling a strange emotion.
He had heard that this man before him, ten thousand years ago, was notoriously arrogant—he had spoken many stirring, heroic words and also many outrageous, shocking boasts.
For instance: "Once I open up a complete martial path, all races in the mortal world can ascend to godhood through physical cultivation alongside me. No longer relying on heaven and earth's spiritual qi to eat, no need to bow and worship anyone or offer incense. Only a religion founded like this deserves to be called ancestral."
Or: "Let me elevate the martial way another level, and I can beat the Dao Ancestor with one hand."
"Today's council: any sword cultivator unwilling to bow their head to anyone, willing to go to the Heavenly Court ruins to forge swords and become master, come, stand on my side, and spar with the three founders across from us."
Though this Martial Forefather had lost, he had never once flinched.
The tall woman smiled. "My memory is poor. I only just remembered that coming here seems to have broken the rules. The Little Confucian is a bit displeased and reminded me to leave quickly."
The Martial Forefather suggested, "Why leave? Stay here, fight the Little Confucian. By the etiquette of ten thousand years ago, whoever wins gets listened to."
Chen Ping'an said, "Then you go back first."
The tall woman nodded. "Master, don't forget the sixty-year agreement."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "I have a good memory."
Only after the Sword Holder, one of the Five Supremes, left this ancient star—both a prison and a Dao field—did the Martial Forefather finally relax.
After all, the Joint Execution had damaged his Dao foundation too severely, completely losing his true body. Taking those "soft and weak" three strikes had already given him a long-unfamiliar feeling of being overwhelmed. Sitting cross-legged on the mountaintop, he began to peel away the lingering, stubborn remnants of sword qi. Each strand of sword qi he tossed away might contain several types of ancient sword paths, carving ravines up to millions of miles long across the star's Dao field. Finally, flicking away a single pure "sword path," it blasted a crater hundreds of miles deep... Had the Sage of Rites not helped conceal the celestial phenomena, the divination masters, five-element practitioners, and astronomical observatory cultivators of the mortal world would have suffered greatly.
Chen Ping'an said, "Yu Shiwu of True Martial Mountain is willing to return the three portions of martial fortune to you, Senior. Could you, for the sake of saving a few steps, preserve Yu Shiwu's consciousness and memories when retrieving that 'martial fortune,' and try not to harm the roots of his soul?"
Actually, there was a hint of stirring up old troubles. The first dissolution in the mortal world had been a joint execution and dismemberment. Bringing this up at their first meeting was truly rubbing salt in the wound.
The Martial Forefather rested his fists on his knees, showing no sign of anger. Calmly, he said, "You can make one more request."
The implication was that he agreed to this matter?
So easy to talk to? Then as a junior, I might as well talk a bit more?
Though Chen Ping'an was confused, he still thought carefully before saying, "My first disciple, Pei Qian—her photographic memory is different from ordinary Qi refiners. Does Senior have a proper solution?"
The Martial Forefather, back still turned to Chen Ping'an, softened his tone slightly. "Make another request."
Though Chen Ping'an felt regret, he had no choice but to change his request. "When Senior descends the mountain, if you have leisure time, you could visit my Lotus Root Blessed Land."
The Martial Forefather sneered, "Who do you think I am? Learning from the mountain gods to sit on a tree stump?"
The tone clearly indicated he had no intention of going to the Lotus Root Blessed Land to help "guard the mountains."
Since Chen Ping'an had already settled the matter of Yu Shiwu with this senior, he was already somewhat surprised. He had originally expected good things to require much effort, and had even prepared for the worst-case scenario of falling out if words failed. Having achieved his goal, Chen Ping'an decided not to push further.
He knew when to stop.
But unexpectedly, the Martial Forefather showed no intention of letting Chen Ping'an leave immediately. Coming when one pleased, leaving when one pleased—what did he think this place was? A latrine with corn husks ready?
Chen Ping'an didn't mind. Since he was here, he might as well stay. He began to observe the eleven martial artists standing on this mountaintop. Being pushed out of the tenth realm's dominant position by his own senior disciple—no longer in the dark about this—actually didn't surprise Chen Ping'an at all. Saying he had no regrets would be lying to himself, but he was still more happy than anything.
But that ninth-realm Chen Ping'an in the red robe—how had he also been pushed out? After all, the one Chen Ping'an truly had confidence in staying here long-term was this version of himself—"unprecedented" in ten thousand years was an established fact. Even someone as cautious as Chen Ping'an felt that this version of himself had hope of being "unmatched for generations" for at least a few hundred years.
Regardless, losing two mountaintop seats within less than a year inevitably made Chen Ping'an somewhat melancholy. He tucked his hands into his sleeves and crouched down, looking at the newcomer who had seized his territory.
The other party was easy to recognize. Among the eleven seats, only this unfamiliar martial artist had appeared. He sat cross-legged on the ground, back straight, hands folded on his abdomen. His arm muscles were knotted, and his face was invisible—all because his hair touched the ground, even covering his entire face. This person's fist energy was so vast that each strand of hair was like a waterfall slowly cascading down. With each breath, the strands of hair drifted accordingly.
With such robust physical strength and such formidable fist intent, he truly deserved to be called breathtaking.
When Chen Ping'an looked closely, he found it even more unbelievable. Were there tens of thousands of vengeful spirits and fierce ghosts crawling on each strand of hair?
The Martial Forefather laughed. "From the mountaintop to the Ultimate Realm level, losing to her is normal."
"From now on, they will only become stronger. The path of martial arts in this world will never allow you and Cao Ci, two young lads, to share the glory and steal the show."
"How was that half-fist earlier?"
Chen Ping'an answered truthfully, "A wonderful taste, like hotpot with liquor."
The burly man laughed heartily. "Good. That's a good way to put it. Once my sentence is served and I return to the mortal world, I'll definitely have hotpot with liquor."
Chen Ping'an probed, "If Senior doesn't mind, how about this junior returns to the mountain to prepare hotpot and liquor, then comes back in person to have a good meal?"
The Martial Forefather clicked his tongue. "If there's a single bit of advantage to be gained, you won't miss a single opportunity. How could anyone around you learn anything good?"
Chen Ping'an found it strange. Why did this Martial Forefather's words, during their reunion on the mountaintop, always carry a strange undertone?
What right did he have to make snide remarks about the atmosphere of Fallen Mountain?
The burly man said, "In the next hundred years, there will be quite a few fourteenth-realm cultivators. But I wonder how many will remain after a thousand years."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Everyone relies on their own abilities to pursue their future. In the end, whether flowers bloom or bear fruit, the future depends on one's own talents."
Carrying the True Names of the demon race and then merging with half of the Sword Qi Great Wall—Chen Ping'an's immortal remains Dharma robe could actually be called "Sealing Confirmation."
But after his battle with Ma Kuxuan, the Dharma robe shattered, leaving several exploitable loopholes on the Barren Wilderness side.
The next moment, this strand of Chen Ping'an's mind returned to his true body, placing him in a residence on Fuyao Foothills, where he could lean on the railing and gaze toward Jumping Fish Mountain.
At the mountaintop, the burly man stood up and walked to a certain spot. He had to crouch down and lower his head just to meet her eyes.
The little girl with charcoal-black skin had her arms crossed over her chest and her head tilted, seemingly puzzled. Was this big idiot just blowing smoke in front of her master, not actually able to handle spicy food or alcohol? The moment he thought about hotpot and liquor, he couldn't withstand it? Ha! So big and yet so useless—ten million miles inferior to her master.
The burly man, his gaze tender, reached out to tousle her small head. The little girl glared and scolded, "Don't touch me!"
The man who had once replaced the first Daoist in the mortal world and continued ascending to heaven covered his face with a trembling hand.
---
Zhu Lian, Fallen Mountain's Law Keeper Patriarch Changming, and Northern Sacred Mountain Wei Divine Lord.
Their simultaneous appearance was already enough to terrify the sixteen individuals. Especially the Northern Sacred Mountain Night Patrol Divine Lord's arrival—both unexpected and completely reasonable.
On Jumping Fish Mountain, the eight martial artists and eight Dao cultivators lived separately.
Upon reaching the mountain, Zhu Lian led them to their respective residences. The courtyards were clean and tidy, nothing more—neither lavish nor celestial.
The Law Keeper Patriarch stated no rules or taboos, only telling them to know their place and act freely. As for what constituted knowing one's place and what counted as acting freely, no explanation was given.
The two fist instructors, Zheng Dazhong and Cen Yuanji, had both settled on the mountain.
Zheng had initially wanted to be neighbors with Cen, but that didn't work out.
This fellow, who didn't seem like a master at all, had declared to them upon their first meeting that he was a rare martial arts grandmaster in their Vase Continent. He had first-rate talent for fist practice, but his teaching was even more unparalleled.
They must cherish this opportunity.
In contrast, the woman who clearly had more of a grandmaster's bearing had told them straight out that her talent was mediocre and her martial arts unrefined. If anyone felt they were being misled, they could request a different instructor.
But the eight Dao preachers still hadn't shown up.
Since Fallen Mountain didn't say anything, they didn't dare ask. Immortal teaching was the most difficult to understand with ordinary reasoning. Natural talent, bone structure, disposition, opportunities, acquired habits—everything mattered.
Each simply silently cultivated and refined their Qi according to their previously learned Dao techniques.
Previously on that intercontinental ship, several youngsters had agreed to find time to visit Fallen Mountain's entrance. Now their hearts were pounding, and they didn't dare entertain such thoughts.
They feared that if they left Jumping Fish Mountain, they'd be caught red-handed and told to pack their bags and go home.
Between Jumping Fish Mountain and Fallen Mountain lay another supposed subsidiary peak, Fuyao Foothills. On clear days, one could faintly make out the scenery of Fuyao Foothills. With luck, they might even glimpse the cloud-wreathed Jise Peak, where Fallen Mountain's Founder's Hall was built. The more indistinct the view, the more it sparked their curiosity. They eagerly anticipated the next Founder's Hall discussion, hoping to catch a distant glimpse of immortals riding the wind and sword lights like rainbows.
In just a few days, the eight had drastically revised their impressions of the two fist instructors. That surnamed Zheng character was a slacker, completely undisciplined, but he truly had some real skill.
On the other hand, the female grandmaster surnamed Cen, unless she was deliberately hiding her abilities and unwilling to pass on true teachings, was just a showpiece. When teaching the frame-fist techniques, she was rigid and formulaic, nothing more.
Zheng Dafeng grinned mischievously, deliberately not saying anything. Instead, he fanned the flames, teaching several excellent fist techniques to those eight martial arts prodigies with their heads in the clouds. If they weren't good material, the Great Li court wouldn't have sent them here to waste Chen Mountain Lord's precious cultivation time. They had already been touched by fist intent, and had been secretly vetted by the astronomical observatory—they indeed carried martial fortune. Without that, the next batch of carefully selected sword cultivator seedlings probably wouldn't dare be sent to Fallen Mountain.
Every time Cen Yuanji finished teaching fist techniques and was alone on the training ground, she unconsciously pursed her lips. At night, facing the lamp on the table and those precious fist manuals compiled and hand-copied by Mr. Zhu himself in his early years, she several times wanted to go to Fallen Mountain, find Mr. Zhu, or go directly to Chen Ping'an, and tell them she couldn't teach this fist technique. Not out of spite, but because Cen Yuanji genuinely believed her realm and talent were insufficient. As for whether she felt any grievance, Cen Yuanji certainly did have some.
The setting sun sank heavily in the west. At the horizon, burning clouds blazed crimson and brilliant, like ancient deities shattering countless corals. On the mountain, green willows swayed gracefully. At dusk, the rugged cliffs loomed, dark as accumulated iron.
After Pei Qian left the Lotus Root Blessed Land, she came to the training ground at Jumping Fish Mountain. She observed secretly for a while, and when Cen Yuanji announced a break, Pei Qian sat down on the rooftop.
On the training ground, there was no whispering. After all, this was Fallen Mountain's vassal peak. Who knew if some immortal was using the Divine Vision of Mountains and Rivers technique to observe them from Fallen Mountain?
They adhered to the rules, not daring any impropriety. Though they said nothing with their mouths, their eyes spoke volumes.
This made Cen Yuanji's heart ache, but she could only pretend nothing was happening.
It also made Cen Yuanji suddenly understand a principle Mr. Zhu had once spoken, one she regrettably hadn't deeply appreciated back then. She had been blessed without knowing her blessing.
It turned out that back then, no one on Fallen Mountain truly cared about realms—not in their eyes, not in their hearts.
Cen Yuanji heard someone call out, "Sister Cen."
She recognized the familiar voice but the unfamiliar address. Turning her head, she saw Pei Qian. Cen Yuanji was stunned for a moment, then reflexively smiled and nodded, forgetting to even return the greeting with cupped fists. After all, their interactions had always been this casual.
When Pei Qian appeared, the training ground immediately erupted in commotion. Unlike the young Hidden Official, Pei Qian's appearance and features were already well-known on the mountain.
Otherwise, there wouldn't be so many female martial artists wearing black clothes and topknot buns throughout Vase Continent, all going by the alias "Zheng Qian."
Pei Qian, Grandmaster Pei! One of the four grandmasters on the Vase Continent Martial Arts Ranking, who had earned the nicknames "Zheng Qingming" and "Zheng Sanqian" through her skill on the battlefield at the Great Li auxiliary capital.
Pei Qian wasted no words. She said she would suppress her realm to the fourth level, and they should all attack together—and remember, all at once.
One punch per person, sending all eight sprawling to the ground, convulsing as if they'd been hit by an endless stake-walking session.
Pei Qian's expression was cold. "All trash. Worthy of learning fist here? You think you're worthy of having Cen Yuanji teach you fist?!"
"Get up! Count to three. If you can't stand, leave Jumping Fish Mountain on your own and find a better teacher. Aren't your eyes all on your foreheads? Afraid you can't find someone to teach you fist?!"
Sister Cen was someone you half-baked little brats had the right to look down on?!
Before Pei Qian finished counting to three, seven scrambled to their feet as if their butts were on fire, stumbling upright. One girl with the weakest constitution was helped up by a boy who looked strikingly similar to her. The moment Pei Qian glanced at her, her eyes instantly reddened, and with her mind blank, she bit her lip hard, not daring to cry out.
Pei Qian said sternly, "Six-step stake walking for four hours. If you can't manage, crawl on the ground to make up the time. Those who can't do it, pack your bags and bed down at the foot of the mountain."
Zheng Dafeng crouched in the distance, secretly gloating at the misfortune.
Pei Qian looked at these people, and the more she looked, the angrier she became. All of you started learning martial arts and fist techniques young. If you'd come to that second floor of the bamboo tower, you'd be rolling up your mats and getting out the same day.
When she was young, she hadn't thought much of it. She and Xiao Mili would even secretly give Cen Yuanji the nickname "Cen Dullard."
But as Pei Qian grew up and her realm increased, she came to understand Cen Yuanji's "difficulty"—not that Cen Yuanji's fist practice was difficult, but that the fist techniques Cen Yuanji practiced were profoundly difficult!
In Pei Qian's eyes now, Cen Yuanji was not someone to be pitied.
Rather, she was a pure martial artist worthy of another pure martial artist's respect.
Zheng Dafeng said with a playful grin, "Pei Qian, how to teach fist is still mainly up to me and Cen Yuanji. You're welcome to lend a hand and offer some pointers, but whether these eight stay or go, you don't get to decide."
Pei Qian said glumly, "Understood."
She had overstepped her bounds.
Zheng Dafeng chuckled, "Don't hold grudges in your little notebook, and don't secretly tattle to the Mountain Lord."
Pei Qian turned around and rolled her eyes.
Zheng Dafeng stood up and patted his butt. "See that? Still saying I'm blowing smoke? Back in the day, I often coached Grandmaster Pei's fist technique. Otherwise, would she listen to Instructor Zheng today? Besides, when Grandmaster Pei and Instructor Cen were sparring, you eight were still in diapers. Every last one of you—your fist technique is mediocre, but your pride is sky-high. Either you're thinking of formally exchanging pointers with Grandmaster Pei in the future, or you're hoping for a chance to chat with Mountain Lord Chen face to face. Dream on... Gentlemen, young ladies, don't just stand there! Get moving on those stakes!"
Pei Qian walked over to Cen Yuanji. After a moment's hesitation, feeling she had to speak her mind, she said, "Sister Cen, why belittle yourself? You've endured countless hardships in training, walked stakes millions of times, pursuing the realm of 'when I throw my punch, there's no one before me.' Is that only about challenging others? Learning fist and then teaching others to learn fist—that's even more important, isn't it? Shouldn't that be the principle?"
Cen Yuanji looked into Pei Qian's clear eyes. She was still pursing her lips, but gradually a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She nodded. "Little Charcoal can speak big principles now."
Pei Qian seemed to break character, looking embarrassed and scratching her head.
Truly, heroes and good men fear meeting their neighbors most.
Foolish youthful deeds, mischievous habits—neighbors and community knew far too much. No matter how wealthy or exalted one became, returning home in silken robes, no matter the expression on one's face, one couldn't help wondering inwardly: Him? Her?
Just then, a middle-aged man in a blue long-sleeved gown and cloth shoes appeared out of nowhere, standing at the edge of the training ground.
His mere presence made the eight children, who were already committing a capital offense by breathing, struggle even more. Their simple six-step stake walking deviated more or less.
The man in blue smiled. "Study fist well. Treasure your time learning from Zheng Dafeng, and be serious when learning from Cen Yuanji. If you can't manage, go down the mountain and return to where you came from."
Having said that, Chen Ping'an led Pei Qian down the mountain.
Pei Qian felt a bit embarrassed. Chen Ping'an smiled. "You taught well. Next time, if you can be a bit calmer, it'll be even better."
Pei Qian nodded. "My patience isn't good. Truth be told, I was way worse than them back then. Losing my temper today makes no sense. Master, after thinking it over, I think I was just angry at my own younger, clueless self."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Since you've criticized yourself like that, how can your master still flick you on the forehead?"
Pei Qian grinned. Her words were genuine—she couldn't fool her master.
Chen Ping'an felt a small sense of satisfaction. That Cen Yuanji had finally stopped looking at him with those eyes—like she was looking at a scoundrel, or if not, then someone pretending well to be good.
It hadn't been easy.
Pei Qian said, "Then I'll head back to Indus Leaf Continent."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "You can stay a few more days."
During the busy farming and tea-picking season, the village school had a short break. The children were overjoyed, but the teacher felt teaching was truly difficult—he worried that when school reopened, more students might drop out.
---
Earlier, at the Sword Qi Great Wall, Chen Ping'an had transmitted a Three Mountain Talisman to Old Deaf One, facilitating this new supplicant's journey to Fallen Mountain.
Old Deaf One didn't understand the stakes. He simply took it for an ordinary grand summit talisman, useful and wonderful, but not particularly hot to the touch. He only regretted the talisman's restriction of three uses, beyond which it would consume his own merits—otherwise, any place with green mountains would be a landing spot for the talisman bearer. Excellent teleportation! But Xie Gou knew full well the background of that Three Mountain Nine Marquis, and deliberately didn't enlighten this fellow supplicant.
Zheng Qingjia waited on Fallen Mountain but never met that half-ancestral "Mr. Xiao Mo." She then followed Gu Can to a place called Cloud Rock Nation on Indus Leaf Continent. Gu Can said she had many old friends there and told her to be mentally prepared.
The former master of the Yeluo River, throne-demon Yang Zhi—presently a female supplicant named "Jing Xing" in the Great Spring Dynasty.
And there was Tao Ting of the Barren Wilderness, who lay listlessly sick every day in the Hundred Thousand Mountains, now the Haoran "Tender Daoist" standing proudly among the crowd.
The entire Golden Emerald City had long been refined into nothingness by Mr. Zheng, who also taught her a technique to transform emptiness back into substance. Once Gu Can selected a sect location, Zheng Qingjia could retrieve it and let it take root. If she wished to relocate in the future, it would be a simple gesture. As for the Golden Emerald City's registered cultivators, still kept in the dark, they didn't enjoy Zhai Guangyun's treatment. They had never been released by Zheng Qingjia, trapped in a situation like a solar eclipse, terrified and bewildered by the changing of the heavens.
When this intercontinental ship left Chuzhou's borders, Zheng Qingjia shook her personally taught disciple out of her sleeve. Learning that the Hidden Official had already returned to the mountain and had even chatted briefly with her master, Zhai Guangyun's eyes were full of resentment. He mumbled complaints that his master didn't care for him and lacked the generosity to see things through... Gu Can's smile was meaningful. Zheng Qingjia had to tell this personally taught disciple that someone was now in the Haoran world. If you kept pestering the young Hidden Official, she might chop your head off with one sword, and then your master could only help you pick up your head, hoping she wouldn't pulp your true body and soul together. Though Zhai Guangyun feared nothing under heaven, he was quite wary of that Ning Yao he'd never met. The reason was simple: the higher Ning Yao's realm, the more she disliked the Barren Wilderness. Oh, she was a flying-ascension sword cultivator—how impressive.
What was so good about a woman who would shut the door just because her man drank a bit too much with friends?
The young Hidden Official was good at everything except this monogamous devotion. If he had learned from the previous Hidden Official, Xiao Xun, and defected from the Sword Qi Great Wall, now that would have been exciting! In the Barren Wilderness, he could have a different Dao partner every day for three hundred and sixty-five days a year!
Who didn't know that the Barren Wilderness's current feiran sword cultivator and Zhou Qinggao, the personally taught disciple of Wen Hai Zhou Mi, were the famous number-one and number-two greatest fans of the Hidden Official?
This "Liuxia Ship" intentionally slowed down, passing over Letter Creek Lake's borders. On Oriole Island, Zhong Su saw the young man in Confucian robes at the ship's bow. This old Nascent Soul cultivator, known as the most "registered cultivator-like" figure in Letter Creek Lake, took the initiative to board the ship. He said he had changed his mind and was willing to leave the True Realm Sect's register and defect to Gu Can. Unexpectedly, Gu Can also said he had changed his mind. Even if Zhong Su was willing to join his sect today, he couldn't be the first Law Keeper anymore—he'd have to start as the most ordinary nominal supplicant. Zhong Su's face darkened, but in the end he didn't leave the ship. Instead, he threw down a talisman certificate toward Oriole Island, summoning the batch of personally taught and secondary disciples he had selected to board.
Chen Ping'an had been frank with Zheng Qingjia earlier, explaining that not knowing that the Yuanhu Daoist would come to the Haoran world, he had made a deal with Tao Ting, now transformed into the Tender Daoist. The latter had provided several methods from Golden Emerald City for refining dharma robes. All proceeds would be split ninety-ten in favor of Chen Ping'an, with settlements every sixty years.
Zheng Qingjia was completely indifferent to this, only saying that the Hidden Official needn't concern himself with Golden Emerald City's views at all. The weaving secrets Tao Ting had provided were already slightly outdated. Nowadays, Golden Emerald City's unique methods for refining dharma robes were "innovative and blazing new trails." Besides, the Haoran world had nine continents. No matter how well Golden Emerald City's dharma robes sold, reaching the market share of two or three continents was already the limit of their production capacity. Dealing with intelligent people was always easy.
In all directions of heaven and earth, north, south, east, west, and center—people gather and disperse, each pursuing their own future.
The celestial master Cao Rong of White Jade Capital's Nanhua City lineage brought Zhao Fuyang back to Spirit Flight Palace, temporarily unregistered. He was confined to a desolate Daoist temple on a certain peak for reflection, allowed to cultivate while atoning for his crimes, earning merit to offset his mistakes. Cao Rong issued a dharma decree: whether Zhao Fuyang could become Cao Rong's personally taught disciple depended on whether he could reach Nascent Soul realm without walking the mountain-traversal path. If successful, he would become Cao Rong's personally taught disciple. If not, he would be expelled from the mountain again and live out his days as a mountain swamp wild cultivator.
Additionally, that dark, thin girl named Ni Qing indeed received the Dao name "Qing Ni" in the misty Spirit Flight Palace Founder's Hall.
She even became a personally taught disciple of Celestial Master Cao, becoming a fellow disciple of the same generation as the current palace master "Dong Ting," whose Dao name was "Xiang Jun."
When a dream comes true, one can't help but want to slap oneself in the face to confirm it's real.
The girl still remembered that under the heavy night sky, a young Daoist with a lotus flower crown had said to her, "Daoist Qing Ni, the three of us working together can kill a fourteenth-realm cultivator."
Fortunately, that roguish, unorthodox Daoist added an explanation: "That's fourteen first-realm Qi refiners."
So many things and people in the world—at the time, they seemed ordinary.
Fortunately, that woman with whom she shared a half-"hometown connection" was also cultivating in Spirit Flight Palace, occasionally coming to "disturb" her cultivation. Ni Qing knew what game the other was playing but didn't mind. The mountain was eerily quiet, so quiet she could even hear the sound of falling leaves. Having someone to talk with about their homeland was always nice.
That woman was named Yu Yiyou. She and her sister-like friend Yu Rongyu had both been close maidservants of the Fenzhao Palace Master Yu Chunzhi. They each had their own opportunities. Yu Yiyou had become a disciple of a Spirit Flight Palace Golden Core Earth Immortal and had just been registered in the Founder's Hall as a registered cultivator. Yu Rongyu had become a personally taught disciple of Xing Zi, who managed the Golden Immortal Nunnery on the Golden Que Sect's ancestral mountain. Yu Yiyou was happy for her sister-friend, but also felt she was luckier. After all, the Golden Immortal Nunnery was one of Spirit Flight Palace's "descendant sects."
But now the hierarchy between these two women, reunited in a foreign land, had grown quite distant. Yu Yiyou, still unordained and without a Dao name, had to address Ni Qing as "Ancestor Qing Ni."
The mountain goddess of Falling Kite Mountain had also gone to the Xiaoxiao Dynasty, filling a vacancy and becoming a court-enshrined mountain goddess.
The female martial artist Lü Mo had gone to Hundred Flowers Lake. Celestial Master Cao had specially issued a vague dharma decree for her, saying only that an opportunity awaited her there, and it would not wait.
At some water mansion site that had been cleaned out, Lü Mo met an old tortoise carrying a stele, reluctantly using the place as a Dao field. He was a "young cultivator" who spoke slowly but had a catchphrase: "With my explosive temper..."
Ni Qing could never associate the sword-carrying youth and the young Daoist with the young Hidden Official and White Jade Capital's Sect Leader Lu.
She always felt those two goods were like two bachelors squatting at the village head, wearing tattered cotton jackets with fluff showing, downcast and slack-eyed, hands in sleeves, sneaking glances at passing women. Only like that did they seem right.
The Pure White Mansion at Xieziling hadn't moved and hadn't suffered any military disaster. The mansion master Bai Mao received this blessing but couldn't make heads or tails of it. He always felt that when Old True Man Cheng Qian and the Qing Xing Kingdom court chatted casually, they regarded him with a favor that was almost suspiciously exaggerated. Mansion Master Bai was utterly perplexed. Could there have been a great figure among his ancestors, a mountain immortal? But Bai Mao had carefully examined his genealogy when he was young—there was no such thing. Bai Mao deeply missed his two recently acquired friends: one who loved to brag louder than thunder, and another who was probably forced by circumstances to engage in coercive buying and selling...
Now Bai Mao always remembered hitting that sword-carrying youth on the head by the well in the small town at the foot of Harmony Mountain.
If they met again, should he try it once more?
Fallen Mountain didn't wait for Xie Gou, who was off wandering somewhere unknown. Instead, Old Deaf One and Youyu, master and disciple, arrived first.
At the mountain entrance, Old Deaf One encountered that clueless white-haired boy—an old acquaintance from the Sword Qi Great Wall's prison.
Since this was Youyu's first time using a Three Mountain Talisman and his realm wasn't high enough nor his body strong enough, as soon as he stood still, he became dizzy and obediently went off to vomit.
The white-haired boy initially thought Old Deaf One was just a passerby at their mountain. When he heard Old Deaf One was going to become their supplicant, he immediately became unhappy.
Old Deaf One could see that the other party had all but written the word "contempt" on his face. He felt quite helpless. What was even more helpless was that the white-haired boy lifted his chin, and receiving the hint, Old Deaf One had to call him "Grandfather."
Old Deaf One didn't forget to speak with his mind-voice.
Before Old Deaf One became an official supplicant, the white-haired boy started making things difficult for him. Wahaha, power in hand, he began issuing orders: "Youyu doesn't need introduction—I know him well. Old Deaf One, quickly report your name, Dao name, place of origin, and cultivation realm."
Old Deaf One had to report his name as Gan Tang, his Dao name as Dragon's Voice, and his former Dao field location, among other things.
Back when Chen Ping'an left the Hundred Thousand Mountains and there were no outsiders, the old blind man began to miss his beloved disciple.
Previously, the old blind man had been lenient, seeing that that flying-ascension lackey had protected his beloved disciple Li Huai without causing major trouble. So the old blind man had casually found an excuse—"though he lacked merit, he had toiled"—and tossed a copy of an ancient Daoist text to Tender Daoist. It was the first half of the Mountain Refining Manual. Now Tender Daoist was excavating a great river on Indus Leaf Continent, ostensibly helping move mountains because of Li Huai's good relationship with Chen Ping'an, but in truth, it was mountain refining to realize the Dao.
Even someone as roguish as the Barren Wilderness's Tao Ting sometimes felt a pang of conscience. Had he been too scheming? Had he schemed against the Hidden Official too much?
One day, while the yellow-robed old man was patrolling the great river, trying to catch whoever was mindlessly throwing talismans and hindering his mountain refining, he was distracted and caught by the Hundred Thousand Mountains.
Tender Daoist didn't know what he had done wrong again. His Dao heart had long ceased to matter—it was just a bitter gallbladder now, liable to rupture at any moment. He was used to it.
The old blind man's smile was ambiguous. "I heard you've been doing business with Chen Ping'an?"
Tender Daoist's face was bitter, his heart full of sorrow. You bastard Chen Ping'an, I was only trying to earn a bit of immortal money, and you went straight to the boss with a complaint! If you want to rob me, just say so—no need to talk business.
The old blind man said, "You've got some nerve, haven't you?"
Tender Daoist revealed his true form and lay down on the ground. "Tread on me, please!"
After waiting a long time without feeling the old blind man's foot, Tender Daoist raised his head in confusion.
The old blind man pulled a Daoist text from his sleeve and tossed it beside Tender Daoist's mouth. "Take it in your mouth."
Tender Daoist quickly grabbed the text—the second half of the Mountain Refining Manual!
The old blind man said, "If you still can't merge with the Dao within a hundred years, and can't compete with Zhu Yan, you can spend the rest of your life comfortably lying in the flying-ascension realm."
Tender Daoist transformed into human form, holding the book with both hands, weeping with joy. He bowed and thanked: "Tao Ting of the Barren Wilderness thanks you, Senior, for the grace of imparting the Dao!"
But the old blind man paid no attention to Tao Ting's gratitude. He simply told him to get lost and stop being an eyesore.
When Tender Daoist returned to the banks of the great river on Indus Leaf Continent, two sentences lingered in his ears:
"Now that you're only in the flying-ascension realm, your vision is still narrow. Seeing me is like a frog at the bottom of a well looking up at the moon."
"If you one day manage to break into the fourteenth realm by luck, you'll see me like a mayfly seeing the sky."
Xie Gou also returned to Fallen Mountain, saying that after wandering for a few days outside, she greatly missed Mountain Lord Chen and Alliance Leader Guo.
Chen Ping'an said he planned to have Xiao Mo go to Jumping Fish Mountain to teach Dao techniques later.
His unspoken meaning was simple enough.
Vice Seat Xie, since your dear Xiao Mo isn't currently at the mountain?
Xie Gou immediately caught on. Rubbing her mink hat, she struck a heroic pose. "Mountain Lord, Mountain Lord, I'll do it, I'll do it!"
When she arrived at Jumping Fish Mountain, the mink-hatted girl saw the eight Qi refiners and got straight to the point: "My name is Xie Gou, and I'm Xiao Mo's Dao partner. For the time being, I'll be teaching you well, and you'll be learning well. Do your best to stay and drink at my and Xiao Mo's wedding wine."
The eight looked at each other in bewilderment. They had imagined many ways of meeting their Dao preacher, but never thought it would be this person in this scene.
Xie Gou remembered the Mountain Lord's instructions and added a few lines: "One of my Dao names is Bai Jing. I'm from the Barren Wilderness, and I've cut down a few throne-demons. Introduction complete. Prepare to receive the Dao. All of you, perk up. You're about to begin hearing the Dao."
Paying no attention to the stunned youngsters, Xie Gou cracked her knuckles with relish. She had heard that the Mountain Lord planned to visit the North Julu Continent's Qionglin Sect soon. The moment Xie Gou heard that, she perked up, no longer drowsy. As for temporarily replacing Xiao Mo to teach eight wastes... ah, she couldn't say that. Who knew—maybe one, or a few, of them might become registered cultivators in her Jise Peak Founder's Hall one day. Teaching them Dao techniques was such a trivial matter. A tiny drop from between her fingernails would be enough for these guys to study for a hundred or a thousand years.
As for what to do at Qionglin Sect, Xie Gou didn't even bother asking. What else? Either challenging with swords or dismantling the Founder's Hall.
Xie Gou was thoroughly delighted. The name she had chosen was brilliant.
Other places, dogs borrow the power of their masters. Her mountain lord, on the other hand, man borrowing a dog's power.