Chapter 1125: Twenty People and the Alternates (7)
Heaven and earth were like an eternal pair of lovers. If one viewed them upside down, the starry river would be resplendent, and the myriad household lamps would shine. The mountains, rivers, and great lands resembled a caisson ceiling.
A flash of sword light. Chen Ping'an reached out to catch the messenger flying sword, read the contents, and smiled. "Coming early is not as good as coming at the right time."
Xie, the Second Seat, understood her own Mountain Lord. "Found some money?"
Chen Ping'an handed the envelope to Xie Gou and nodded with a smile. "You could say that. Good things come in pairs."
It turned out that over at the temporary Founder's Hall in the state of Yuyan, there had finally been a fairly significant piece of good news. After all the arduous digging of the great river canal, with various forces moving mountains and channeling water, a vassal state of a certain Yu dynasty had, in the past few days, inadvertently unearthed the ruins of a land-based Dragon Palace that had overstepped its ritual privileges. The scale was magnificent, almost comparable to the Four Seas Dragon Palaces of three thousand years ago. Among the treasures hidden within were several clusters of ten-thousand-year-old coral, the likes of which were rarely seen in the world. Such items were worth a fortune, forming a natural treasure pavilion capable of suspending spirit treasures piece by piece. They could also be refined into sword racks, with myriad miraculous uses.
Since it was no ordinary amount of money, the final ownership of this Land Dragon Palace was a very interesting matter.
After reading the letter personally written by Zhong, the Confucian scholar, Xie Gou laughed heartily. "With those shit-stirrers Qingrang and his ilk gone, the luck of Tongye Continent has turned around all of a sudden!"
She then asked a key question: "In the covenant we signed earlier with the Jade Tablet Sect and the others, did we have a plan for handling this kind of situation beforehand?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Of course we had to. There had to be a general framework agreed upon by everyone in advance. Otherwise, the sight of money stirs people's hearts, and if you talk about feelings when you should be talking about money, doesn't that just hurt the feelings? For countries that contain various ancient Daoist sites, immortal residence ruins, including cave heavens and blessed lands, they can take a twenty percent share, which is considered their ancestral property. If the site falls within the clearly defined territory of an immortal sect or school, they can also take twenty percent. Actually, at the start, our Sect Leader Cui thought that taking away twenty percent was already generous enough, leaving the local countries and mountain sects to discuss their own share. Neither the Yao clan of Great Springs nor the Ye clan of Mount Pu agreed. The Jade Tablet Sect wanted to fight for a share, but when they saw that our Green Ping Sword Sect had no objection, they let it go. As for the rest, it's divided according to the amount of money invested by forces like the Green Ping Sword Sect, the Jade Tablet Sect, and the Great Springs Yao clan, with each getting a matching dividend based on their proportion. Of course, any country or immortal residence can sell their twenty percent share on the spot, looking for a buyer to get hard cash."
Xie Gou grinned. When it came to money, their Mountain Lord's spirits were especially good.
Xie Gou rubbed her hands together. "The Dragon Palace has layers of restrictions. If we're the ones opening the door, can we get a bigger share?"
Chen Ping'an smiled knowingly. His own second-seat dedicated offering was indeed very attentive when it came to making money.
Because the landscape restrictions of Dragon Palaces were always the hardest to crack among various ruins and secret realms, the Yu dynasty didn't dare act rashly. Opening the "door" casually might cause a chain reaction of earth vein tremors and other disasters. So for now, they couldn't give an accurate valuation.
In the world, reclusive attained Daoists would open Daoist grounds but had to accept that their path to the Great Dao was hopeless. Unwilling to let their lineage end, they might hope that a virtuous or fated person in later generations would find it and help pass on their teachings. Or they might harbor a sliver of hope that their reincarnated self could one day revisit the old place, renew the Dao fate, and re-ascend the mountain to cultivate. If successful, their "current life" on the cultivation path could save a lot of trouble. So such ownerless Daoist grounds often left a clue or two, ensuring it wasn't a dead end.
In contrast, large and small Dragon Palaces were universally recognized as treasure troves, with a stronger implication of funerary offerings. In history, there were many cases of rashly opening abandoned Dragon Palaces causing landscape tremors and calamities.
Take the Dragon Palace where Bai Deng had hidden. If not for Chen Ping'an being nearby at the time, and Lu Chen being responsible for opening the way, even a nation as strong as the Great Li dynasty wouldn't have dared to be careless.
Chen Ping'an said, "It probably won't be our turn to act. Feng Xuetiao and Nen the Daoist are both in the capital now."
One was a registered offering of the Jade Tablet Sect, the other liked to show off. These two Flying Ascension cultivators were the best candidates for opening the many gates of the Dragon Palace.
Actually, a certain Flying Ascension cultivator was more suitable, but Yang Zhi, who used the alias Jing Xing and served as a royal offering for the Yao clan, had already left the capital. Obviously, the earlier appearance of Xie Gou at the border of Yuyan had alarmed this great demon, and she chose to avoid being seen.
The math was simple. With Xiao Mo plus Bai Jing, even if Yang Zhi had Zhu Yan to help her, she would only be able to run. She might even worry about whether she could escape.
Just then, in the direction of South Bodhisattva Continent, a vast Dao aura shot up into the clouds. Rosy clouds of myriad colors stretched for ten thousand zhang. A purple-gold whirlpool appeared in the sky, and a speck of golden light rose slowly.
There were auspicious signs: ethereal celestial music, long chimes of jade qing, heavenly maidens scattering flowers, celestial officials bestowing blessings.
Another person had attained enlightenment and ascended to Flying Ascension.
At that person's Daoist ground, thousands of disciples and followers looked up at that magnificent scene, their eyes dazed, intoxicated.
When that attained Daoist returned to the mountain Daoist ground, they finally came to their senses and shouted in unison, congratulating the old ancestor on ascending...
Chen Ping'an could only use his qi-watching technique to get a rough idea of the phenomenon.
Xie Gou, using some secret technique, watched with great interest.
Strange and wondrous things came thick and fast. Auspicious signs, divine miracles, spirit treasures, and opportunities emerged like bamboo shoots after a spring rain.
In North Julu Continent, Heavenly Lord Xie Shi ascended on a phoenix.
As Lu Chen's direct disciple, Cao Rong ascended in broad daylight over the sea.
Fu Qi of Old Dragon City had just emerged from seclusion, having reached the Immortal level.
On Tongye Continent, the female Daoist Huang Ting, who had recently returned to Hao Ran, encountered no barriers to cultivation. She inexplicably broke through and became a Daoist Primordial Lord.
Xie Gou murmured to herself, "Unrequited love is like a toothache."
Chen Ping'an asked, "Old Cooker again?"
Xie Gou complained, "Don't keep calling him Old Cooker. Show some respect to Old Mr. Zhu."
Chen Ping'an chuckled. "You don't need to beat around the bush. If you and Xiao Mo become Dao companions, I'd be happy to see it. I'll help if I can."
Xie Gou beamed, her smile sycophantic and ingratiating. She raised her arm and made a fist. "Mr. Zhu said, when it comes to matters of love between men and women, our Mountain Lord is a hidden grandmaster. He's got it in the bag!"
Chen Ping'an laughed heartily. "Senior Immortal Raft believes that, and you believe it too?"
Back in the day on Osmanthus Island, when Chen Ping'an was still a boy, he was one of the few people who could brag without a second thought. At the time, he had completely hoodwinked Gu Qingrong.
Xie Gou asked, "Mountain Lord seems very afraid of Cave Lord Bixiao?"
Chen Ping'an said, "Of course I'm in awe. Besides, as the Mountain Lord, I have to consider Wei Xian and the others. It makes me cautious in my words and actions."
Xie Gou said, "Worried they're marionettes? Then just say it directly. With Xiao Mo around, Daoist Bixiao will always give you face. Is it that you think asking for help would be beneath you?"
Chen Ping'an said, "If it were feasible, I'd have said it long ago. Face is worth nothing. But the problem is that the old Abbot may not be willing to accept that. It might seem like I'm taking advantage of a favor and then acting cute. I'm afraid it would backfire."
Xie Gou nodded. "That's true. Daoist Bixiao's temper is indeed a bit odd."
He doesn't take disciples, doesn't pass on teachings, is alone, and has few close friends.
For instance, when the Wild Continent launched its massive attack on Hao Ran, with war smoke rising everywhere, he stayed put.
But when peace returned to Hao Ran, he instead went to the Azure Underworld, where chaos was already brewing.
What was he after? He found his Dao power too strong? Was he deliberately wearing down his own cultivation as a joke?
In fact, there was another key reason: Cave Lord Bixiao seemed to think quite highly of their Mountain Lord.
Xie Gou suggested, "Mountain Lord, since we're bored, why not go to the next hill and beg for some wine?"
Chen Ping'an said, "There's nothing to talk about with them anyway. It would still be boring."
But Xie Gou had already removed the camouflage formation, and Chen Ping'an let her be. He didn't bother to set up another concealment array.
Over there, everyone's eyes were full of wariness. When two people suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the wilderness, anyone would be nervous.
Xie Gou flicked a five-color silk sash from her sleeve, about ten feet long, and it shot toward the adjacent hill like a rainbow spanning the sky, continuously stretching. The sable-capped girl walked on the "bridge," grinning and cupping her fists. "Fellow Daoists, don't panic. My fellow apprentice-brother and I are upright and honorable members of the righteous path."
She had already prepared a story in her head: they were the proud sons of heaven from a little-known minor sect, traveling together to seek out like-minded Daoists while slaying demons and monsters. Along the way, they had made quite a few gains...
Weaving stories—who couldn't do that?
Ah, but where had her Mountain Lord gone?
The crowd only saw that strange girl of unknown origin suddenly stomp her foot, turn around halfway across, and sprint back. She put away that fine-looking spirit treasure sash, shouting in panic, "Senior Apprentice-Brother, wait for me!"
She possessed a natural intuition, similar to the Buddhist Heavenly Eye, which allowed her to see the true forms, dharma appearances, and various other visions of great cultivators without any hindrance.
Over on the other mountain, there was a blurry green figure. Even a fleeting glance had shaken her Dao heart. But his figure flickered and vanished before she could see more.
But the "girl" who had built the bridge with the silk sash appeared to her as a sixteen-armed female deity, exuding a terrifying wild aura that made it hard for her to breathe.
And before the sable-capped girl turned away, she had clearly looked at her, nodded, and smirked.
Catching up with her Mountain Lord, who was already over a hundred miles away, Xie Gou said, "She's a passable cultivation seedling. Too bad her immortal fate is lacking, so she couldn't get into a top-tier famous sect."
Xie Gou's "passable" was, barring accidents, definitely starting at Earth Immortal level. Earlier, when they had listened to the people there talk about mountain affairs, the immortals they revered as gods and the highly esteemed elders were only at the Golden Core level. The young talents they thought were unreachable, the so-called great cultivation geniuses, were only at the Viewing Ocean stage.
Xie Gou actually had several forms. The current sable-capped girl appearance was one, a form of self-suppression.
Another form was how she had appeared on the Sword Qi Great Wall when she faced the Ghost Immortal Zheng Dan. In ancient times, Bai Jing mostly used this form when walking the earth.
The form that the female cultivator had glimpsed tonight was more like Xie Gou's dharma appearance. The fourth, of course, was Xie Gou's true demon form.
Additionally, there was a perfect state that Xie Gou only revealed when fighting for her life.
Xiao Mo, who loved to challenge the strong to sword duels, had to run to Drop Treasure Beach to avoid Bai Jing.
Old Blindman's standards were extremely high, yet his evaluation of Bai Jing was not low.
Chen Ping'an asked, "The female cultivator sitting on the ivory straw mat?"
Xie Gou shook her head. "The one with the freckled face, acting as a foil for the former."
Chen Ping'an recalled their encounter by the river earlier and remembered how that female immortal with green sleeves and yellow crown had treated them differently. He joked, self-deprecatingly, "Alas, I judge people by their looks."
Xie Gou asked, "Should I go back and say a word to Sect Leader Cui, have him keep an eye out?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Sure."
In the mountain world, it wasn't necessary to change one's sect registry to cultivate at another Daoist ground. For example, the registered female cultivators of the Pearl Hairpin Island on Turtleback could go to the Lotus Root Blessed Land to cultivate. They even helped out at the Dragon Boat Ink-Overturning and Oxhorn Ferry Bundled Bags shops, similar to an official transfer or a "walking" position in a government office. Generally, such experienced practitioners were the core disciples carefully cultivated by the Founder's Halls of minor sects. Major immortal residences were also willing to treat them with courtesy and were happy to serve as a stepping stone. The latter, by reason and sentiment, would consider the former a half natal home on their future path.
Yu Xuan voluntarily sent Daoist Ding and the others to Fallen Mountain—a good example.
And of course, there was Grandmaster Wen of Spirit Flying Palace, who had come in a huff and stayed happily.
Now, Wen Zixi no longer considered himself an outsider.
I wonder what Wen Zixi was thinking. Fallen Mountain hadn't paid him any salary, yet he had been repeatedly swindled by Zheng Dafeng and was already deeply in debt. Wen Zixi, surprisingly, "returned good for evil," spending a lot of effort to carefully compile a boxing manual. He tricked the martial arts kids, claiming it was an entry-level secret manual from the martial world, the most basic of basics. If they couldn't learn this, it meant they weren't cut out for martial arts.
He also suggested to Zheng Dafeng that the kids from Oriole Song Peak and Flower Shadow Peak fight it out, twice a month. As long as he was watching, it would be at most some flesh wounds, not harming their foundations. When they got to Jumping Fish Mountain and learned how much boxing they had mastered, how much immortal magic they had comprehended, they had to be taken out for a test. Zheng Dafeng, as the grandmaster of Oriole Song Peak, accepted all of this. Xie Gou, as the head instructor of Flower Shadow Peak, had no objection either, but she secretly ordered Gan Tang to give the eight kids who couldn't learn anything or do anything right some extra tutoring, teaching them a few quick-integration body techniques and immortal arts.
The result was that the cultivation geniuses of Flower Shadow Peak, facing those ruthless and well-coordinated martial arts geniuses, lost miserably.
Xie Gou, feeling deeply humiliated, went out to relax.
Gan Tang, who had originally regarded working part-time at Jumping Fish Mountain as a chore, directly built a thatched hut on Flower Shadow Peak and didn't return to the Sword Worshiping Platform.
Zheng Dafeng personally cooked and set up three tables for a celebration banquet. He asked them, "Wasn't it satisfying to beat up those qi cultivators?" Wen Zixi reminded them to not be arrogant in victory or discouraged in defeat, deliberately stressing "discouraged in defeat." The children burst out laughing. Zheng Dafeng toasted with Brother Wen, saying that half the credit for the great victory went to Brother Wen. It turned out that this seemingly playful fight was meticulously planned by Wen Zixi. He had drawn up precise maps, set ambush points, and worked out how to lure the enemy in, when and where to encircle them... He had even used military tactics.
It seemed Grandmaster Wen was quite happy staying at Fallen Mountain.
In fact, during the celebration banquet, Zheng Dafeng had pointed out a flaw: they lacked acting skills. "When I was your age, our Mountain Lord was already doing such and such..."
The two tables under the eaves, packed with kids, fell silent instantly. They all pricked up their ears and lowered their heads to eat.
The key was that a white-haired boy was squatting at the door, writing furiously: "On some day, month, year, at Jumping Fish Mountain, Martial Chief Zheng Dafeng publicly praised the Mountain Lord. The original text is as follows..."
Zheng Dafeng put on an embarrassed smile, pretended to be calm, waved his hand, and said, "Ha, drink, drink! Eat meat!"
Forcing a smile, Zheng Dafeng called out, "Sister Konghou," trying to win her over. The white-haired boy stood up, put away his paper and brush, spat, and cursed, "Disgusting!" Then he stalked off with the evidence.
Chen Ping'an led Xie Gou into the territory of Yuyan, walking neither fast nor slow. The scenery was beautiful all along the way—beautiful mountains and clear waters, lush willows and flourishing flowers.
They passed an abandoned lotus pond, temporarily ownerless. The breeze was cool, and the lotus leaves stood tall. In their time, they must have shaded the slender waists of beauties.
He believed that the boys and girls on this land of Tongye Continent would become more and more beautiful.
Some people.
Tread carefully on the path of the world, painstakingly trying to please this world.
We are all very afraid of hurting the people in this world.
—
In a small, no-frills eatery at Fish Scale Ferry, there was a white-clothed boy with a red mole between his eyebrows, sitting at the same table with a young woman whose hair was done up in a bun. They were having a late-night meal: a serving of grilled fish and two pounds of bulk-bought millet wine. The boy had no proper posture, squatting on the long bench, holding a wine cup, mumbling and chattering incessantly. The woman was quite composed, eating slowly and silently, just listening to the boy's endless prattle, which not even the millet wine and delicious food could stop.
The content of the boy's idle chatter was incredibly grandiose, like discussing deals worth millions of taels of silver at a tavern table in the marketplace.
"Liu, the God of Wealth at White Snow Continent, and Mr. Fan, the ancestor of the Merchant family—the paths they walk have no inherent superiority or inferiority. One's Dao lies in scattering money, the other in amassing money; both fall within the scope of human harmony."
"It's said that every Snow Flower Coin minted and spent bears a trace of Liu, the God of Wealth's, thought. Of course, that's just a rumor. If it were true, it would be terrifying."
"Liu, the God of Wealth, can unite with the Dao however and whenever he wants; the Confucian Temple can't interfere. Mr. Fan is at a disadvantage. No help for it—the Sage of Rites has heavy rules. After all, he has jurisdiction over all the Hundred Schools of Thought."
"When Mr. Fan was throwing money around in Bottle Gourd Continent earlier, it was a subtle probe by the Merchant school. More accurately, it was a method of examination. Of course, we don't need to doubt Mr. Fan's original intentions and sincerity. He naturally has Hao Ran's best interests at heart, and his own attitude toward money is transcendent. But he can't withstand the Sage of Rites being mischievous. Mr. Fan and the Merchant school scattered countless sums of money, almost bringing out half their family fortune. They clearly had great merit for Hao Ran. But when the war ended, from the distribution of rewards to the opening of the Wild Continent campaign, they staked everything on Mr. Fan's uniting with the Dao, hoping for a rising tide that lifts all boats—one person attaining the Dao, chickens and dogs ascending to heaven. The result was that their money went down the drain without a ripple. The Confucian Temple only raised the status of the Merchant school, so the entire Merchant school was stunned. Obviously, this path was impassable. Should the Merchant school disciples continue scattering money on the Wild Continent battlefield? That became a very distressing question. Mr. Fan didn't say anything, but the Merchant school managers debated: Was half their family fortune not enough? Then bet big again? Emptying all their assets—that ought to show sincerity, right? Among the Hundred Schools of Thought, which one is more generous than our Merchant school?"
At this point, Cui Dongshan smiled and asked, "Senior Apprentice-Sister, what do you think?"
Pei Qian shook her head. "I can't guess."
Cui Dongshan said slowly, "Since the Merchant school became one of the Hundred Schools of Thought, they've never been poor. Now they've become poverty-stricken, shouldering righteousness with empty sleeves. Who would believe that? But until the Sage of Rites nods his head, Mr. Fan will never cross that threshold. The Merchant school, having spent all their money, nearly split apart over it. Grumbles and complaints everywhere. They gambled big, but not only didn't they win big, they couldn't even get their principal back anytime soon. Who wouldn't be aggrieved? So the Merchant school showed signs of splitting into several factions: some who have lost their minds and don't believe the Confucian Temple will refuse; some who want to cut their losses quickly and negotiate with the Temple as businessmen; and some who want to set up their own sects, including a few lineages like the Plan-Your-Life school."
Pei Qian asked, "What's Mr. Fan's attitude?"
Cui Dongshan said to himself, "If you are pursuing profit, if there's even a shred of impurity, it's doomed to fail. But 'no rises early without profit'—there's no merchant in the world who doesn't make money, right, Senior Apprentice-Sister?"
Pei Qian said absentmindedly, "I suppose so."
Cui Dongshan grinned. "Not long ago, Liu Youzhou was bewitched and went to hang out with Gu Can. Otherwise, he would definitely have come to hang around you, Senior Apprentice-Sister."
Pei Qian was puzzled. "Does he really like me? Or are you all just stirring the pot?"
Cui Dongshan laughed. "Isn't it perfectly normal to like our good-in-every-way Senior Apprentice-Sister?"
Pei Qian shook her head seriously. "No, it's not."
Cui Dongshan said helplessly, "Senior Apprentice-Sister, you can't keep thinking you're still a little black charcoal, can you?"
Pei Qian rolled her eyes.
Cui Dongshan changed his reasoning. "Even the ugliest woman has people who like her."
Pei Qian nodded. "That reason is more plausible."
Cui Dongshan hastily added, "That's from Sword Immortal Mi Da. I'm just borrowing it."
Halfway through the grilled fish, Senior Apprentice-Sister and Little Fellow Apprentice-Brother both moved their chopsticks to turn the grass carp over. Cui Dongshan picked up his chopsticks and sucked on them.
Pei Qian took a sip of the millet wine and began to daydream again. Cui Dongshan said, "That Land Dragon Palace can't be accurately valued without a list before it's opened."
"Generally, as long as we don't compete for the ownership of the southern immortal residence ruins, the Jade Tablet Sect won't set their sights on this Dragon Palace. That's called reciprocity. In short, we have a chance to take the entire Dragon Palace in one package."
"Then sell it off—guaranteed to fill our coffers!"
Pei Qian heard it but it went in one ear and out the other. Just then, a middle-aged man walked into the eatery and came straight to the point. "Mr. Cui, will you sell this wine cup?"
Cui Dongshan grinned but didn't speak. As long as this guy opened his mouth to ask, the price wouldn't be a problem.
But Cui Dongshan seemed to be deliberately contentious: "Even if I'm willing to sell, Mr. Fan might not be able to afford it."
Mr. Fan smiled. "Then a gentleman does not take what another cherishes."
Cui Dongshan panicked instantly. He shifted his butt, making room for Mr. Fan, and invited him to sit. Mr. Fan didn't stand on ceremony and asked the shop assistant for a set of chopsticks and a bowl.
Pei Qian put down her chopsticks and took the initiative to greet this ancestor of the Merchant school. Mr. Fan smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. "A great teacher produces outstanding students. Mountain Lord Chen can be considered a master in both boxing and teaching it."
Cui Dongshan clicked his tongue in wonder. A businessman—this is a businessman.
When traveling, one must pay attention to affinity.
Pei Qian, still a little black charcoal back then, had once followed the white goose to tour the Sword Qi Great Wall. On the city wall, she hadn't dared to look at that old Sword Immortal too much.
If she looked too long, her eyes would hurt.
The previous time was back in her hometown, the Lotus Flower Blessed Land. Pei Qian had stood by the well, looking up at that tall, imposing old Daoist.
It was only much later that she learned this old Abbot was the veritable god of the Lotus Flower Blessed Land.
With a Wine Spring Cup, a drinker didn't need to brew or buy wine.
What difference was there from a poor bachelor who couldn't afford a wife but could meet a goddess in his dreams every night?
Mr. Fan picked up a piece of fish with his chopsticks and asked with a smile, "Really not selling?"
Cui Dongshan sighed. "It's okay to haggle back and forth, but selling—that's really not happening."
Back then, Cui Dongshan had secretly visited Sun Juyuan's private residence, and they'd had a heart-to-heart talk.
Sun Juyuan, who owned a Wine Spring Cup, was refined and elegant. He had never been to that famous wine shop, and naturally, he hadn't written any wish plaques.
Whether Sun Juyuan had bought any of the Hundred Sword Immortals or Two Hundred Sword Immortals print collections was unknown.
He had hit it off with Cui Dongshan, an outsider.
"I'm Dongshan." "And I'm Xihe."
The only hero bold enough to talk back to his face.
Anyone who had been to the Sword Qi Great Wall would always have some people or events that left a deep impression.
Sun Juyuan, who had no goodwill toward Hao Ran, once had a "but" that came as no surprise to Cui Dongshan.
"But." "To cross the city wall—did I agree to that?"
Mr. Fan suddenly asked, "I've been unable to find a path to unite with the Dao. Mr. Cui, do you have any good suggestions?"
Cui Dongshan's expression turned strange. "A Flying Ascension cultivator asking an Immortal-level cultivator about how to unite with the Dao?"
Mr. Fan frowned. "Are you really forgetting, or are you pretending to be stupid?"
Cui Dongshan looked baffled. "What do you mean?"
No wonder he was calling him Mr. Cui instead of Sect Leader Cui. It turned out that old bastard owed the other party a mountain of debt, and now the creditor had come knocking. Easy—default on the debt!
Mr. Fan said, "Back in the Great Li capital city, Mr. Cui said that the Sage of Rites would never allow the Merchant school's status to be too high. It would always be a head shorter than the School of Yin-Yang (Celestial Phenomena), the School of Agriculture (Earthly Advantages), and the School of Poetry and Literature (Human Harmony), among other lineages. In short, as long as I remain the founder of the Merchant school, I will never be able to advance to the Fourteen-Stage realm. No matter what method I use, the Sage of Rites will not 'yield the path.' But Cui Chan said he had a way to point me toward a path of uniting with the Dao."
Cui Dongshan blinked. "He actually said that? Word for word, not a single character off?"
Mr. Fan sighed helplessly. "Sect Leader Cui, do you think I would joke about something like this?"
For the Merchant school to make money was a natural and unalterable business. Generally, for Mr. Fan to unite with the Dao, he needed to earn money and become the richest person in the world.
Facts proved that this path didn't work. So he did the opposite: scatter money like scattering the Dao. Not only did he rank first in making money, but he also ranked first in spending money. In the gathering and scattering of wealth, countless large and small, invisible "paths of wealth" were laid across the human world, but it still didn't work. In fact, Mr. Fan had anticipated this long ago.
Cui Dongshan rubbed his chin, thinking hard, and then said cautiously, "To be honest, that old bastard, when he was young, suffered a loss at a drinking party, so he hated businessmen the most. Mr. Fan, you know he is the most petty and narrow-minded person. He holds grudges for a long time. So... maybe, perhaps, probably, possibly, he deliberately set you up."
Pei Qian looked at Mr. Fan, who was trying hard to keep his face straight. She could tell he wanted to curse.
Since there was nothing left to talk about, Mr. Fan bid farewell, not wanting to waste a moment.
Cui Dongshan asked, "Mr. Fan, what are you up to?"
Mr. Fan held back again and again, finally managing not to burst into a torrent of abuse. "Going out to make money!"
Damn you, Embroidery Tiger! Did you think you were robbing the rich to help the poor?!
Cui Dongshan muttered, "How about settling the bill first?"
Mr. Fan took a deep breath, turned to the white-clothed boy, and beckoned with a smile. "Come here."
Probably, this merchant ancestor's sentiment at the moment was just as Cui Dongshan himself had said: "Such a handsome young man, too bad he's not mute."
Cui Dongshan said, "I won't go over. Just toss the silver here."
Pei Qian reminded him, "That's enough."
Cui Dongshan shook his head. Little Fellow Apprentice-Brother was bold and skilled—he was famously fearless.
Pei Qian said, "Master seems to be on his way here."
Cui Dongshan shot up as if his butt had caught fire, and quickly ran toward the door. "I'll go for a walk with Mr. Fan."
Mr. Fan walked in the alley but didn't directly use earth-shrinking magic to put the nuisance out of sight and out of mind.
Cui Dongshan cradled the back of his head with both hands and said cheekily, "If the higher-ups have a liking, the lower classes will be even more infatuated. The one who makes the most money might be able to climb out of a money pit, but the one who is fiercest in making money won't be able to. Present and future—disciples and descendants of the Merchant school—how they make money will all be modeled after you, the ancestors on the portraits."
Mr. Fan said, "I understand the principle."
Cui Dongshan smiled slightly. "The key lies in the word 'heart.' Making money is nothing more than a gentleman's way of taking and using. How much you earn is one thing; whether your heart is fierce is another. The Merchant school's foundation is nothing more than the two words 'integrity.' But how does integrity come about? It comes from being able to make more money but choosing to make less. But the problem is this: on the path of wealth in the world, can integrity become the greatest common divisor of calculation? There are many such questions. You Merchant school—everywhere is paradox, full of loopholes. If you can't reconcile these contradictions, you'll never be able to unite with the Dao."
Mr. Fan shook his head. "You don't need to tell me such shallow principles."
Cui Dongshan sneered. "Shallow?! If I were the Sage of Rites, no matter how much money you make, among the Hundred Schools of Thought, you would always be at the bottom."
Mr. Fan was silent.
Cui Dongshan stood on tiptoe and patted Mr. Fan on the shoulder. "Old Fan, making money—it's not shameful."
Mr. Fan smiled bitterly without a word.
Cui Dongshan withdrew his hand, shook his sleeve, then clasped his hands inside the sleeves. He said calmly, "Cui Chan said he would point you to a path. He didn't lie to you. In fact, not in the future, but right then. From that moment on, you were already on the path Cui Chan helped pave for you. From that moment until now, the only thing you needed to do was to align your path of wealth with your heart's path. Therefore, at the same time, he was indeed tricking you. He deliberately used the Sage of Rites to scare you. The Hundred Schools are different from ordinary cultivators. To unite with the Dao and reach the Fourteen-Stage realm, passing the heart barrier—it's not easy. At the last Confucian Temple meeting, the Sage of Rites deliberately elevated the entire Merchant school's status but refused to yield the path to you alone. Wasn't that also a test? Embroidery Tiger made you give up hope. If you still harbored a shred of luck, then the Sage of Rites would make you give up hope once more. Mr. Fan, do you believe that when you walk out of this alley, you'll be at the Fourteen-Stage realm?"
Mr. Fan was lost in thought, skeptical.
Cui Dongshan held out his hand.
Mr. Fan looked puzzled.
"After listening to a speech from me, you won't give a few coins?"
Cui Dongshan feigned anger. "We three ate and drank, and didn't settle the bill! Spread that around, and it'll be a joke!"
Mr. Fan smiled, took out a silver ingot, and handed it to the white-clothed boy.
Cui Dongshan turned and walked back toward the eatery. Mr. Fan walked alone in the alley.
Quickly stepping into the eatery, Cui Dongshan put a few crumbs of silver on the table and gestured secretly to Pei Qian.
Pei Qian asked, "What for?"
Cui Dongshan transmitted his voice: "I'm afraid I'll get beaten. Better run."
Moonlight like water flooded the world.
In a remote corner of northwest Flowing Cloud Continent, the state of Cloud Color was small, and its capital even smaller.
Cloud Color was a vassal state of a great dynasty. According to custom, it had to pay tribute to its suzerain every year, but historically it gave little while receiving more from the suzerain, because everyone knew Cloud Color was truly poor, with barren resources. The thought was enough, and the suzerain even had to subsidize them. Hence, the tribute caravan from Cloud Color was famously empty when departing and full when returning.
Sparrow-sized but with all its organs, the capital had an overwhelming number of government offices, said to be even more than in the suzerain state.
As it was written in books: "A hundred spirits protect a small court." For about a hundred years, the years were abundant, governance was harmonious, and there was no warfare. It had always been a scene of favorable winds and timely rains.
The capital had a Willow Shade Lake. The willow-lined causeway was packed with tourists year-round. Various painted pleasure-boats and barges were lined up along the water, with music and song day and night without cease. Around the lake were clustered the mansions of ministers, the residences of grand secretaries, the detached villas of eunuchs, and great clans. Wealthy gentry and rich merchants flaunted their fortunes. Their courtyards and private gardens were packed together like scales. Thus, every day was a clamor of carriages and horses, with noisy retinues. Especially at dawn court and when returning at dusk, it was a noisy, congested mess. Women vied for beauty and were not content with boredom. Often, they were seen in palace-style finery, riding in sedans or on horseback, threading through the willows, their sweet voices as charming as the flowers.
In this premier place of splendor, there was a young, poor official working in the Ministry of Revenue. Though his salary was meager, he did hold a title after all, unlike those impoverished scholars whose bellyful of ink couldn't be exchanged for a few coins. He rented a house here and even kept a burly maidservant, who always wore a square inkstone pouch at her waist. This master-servant pair had managed to get such a bargain only because the house was a haunted one, rumored to have ghosts. In short, the master's rank was low, the maidservant had no beauty—neither was conspicuous.
The maidservant was called Yan Gua, and the young official was Shao Benchu.
In this remote vassal state, the master held a minor position as a Ministry of Revenue Affairs Administrator. It sounded good but was actually a small official post. Fortunately, he was in the Donations Office, which dealt with selling titles, so there were perks. But his true body stayed in the house, often falling asleep—literally "daydreaming"—while at night he preferred to stay up reading by lamplight until dawn, reading all sorts of miscellaneous books. He was a night owl.
He would send a yang spirit incarnation to the Ministry office every day to punch the clock, handling mundane affairs very seriously. He was an expert at dealing with complex official business, with experience that seemed out of place for his rank. Unfortunately, he had no connections in the imperial court. As for his yin spirit, it was responsible for cultivation, nourishing his true body's spirit and soul. Thus, twelve hours a day, 365 days a year, he was constantly cultivating, achieving twice the result with half the effort.
In the capital, close to the Emperor, if a mountain-world cultivator traveled far with their yin spirit, and they also held an official position going in and out of government offices handling busy affairs, it invited some landscape taboos.
This hanging-inkstone goddess, who had come from the Mural City to Flowing Cloud Continent, claimed to be protecting the path inside the house, but actually had nothing to do every day. Her master even told her she could wander the capital. But after going out a few times, she lost interest. She had seen a few lantern festivals, and the Imperial Preceptor wasn't even at the Golden Core level. For mountain-world cultivators, not to mention a capital, the entire state of Cloud Color was a small place. Spiritual qi was average, landscape luck was average, national fate and trend were ordinary. The neighboring border states had long been at peace, like amiable neighbors minding their own business. For over a hundred years, they had generally coexisted without conflict.
So even the Imperial Preceptor's cultivation level was just the Dragon Gate stage. His cultivation skill wasn't great, but his Daoist temple looked quite grand.
Her only interest was following her master every half year to the sky canopy of Flowing Cloud Continent to capture thunder and refine a lightning pool.
This house was small, and it was rented—just a three-courtyard property. Actually, considering the master's background and current official rank and salary, it was a stretch. So the master often had to paint calligraphy or paintings to sell for money. Naturally, there were no extra maids or servants.
But on that night-sailing ship, the master was the lord of the Appearance City, going by the alias Shao Baojuan.
In the early years, when the top ten young talents of several worlds were selected, her master hadn't made the list. She felt indignant on his behalf.
Her master was more philosophical, even comforting her: "In the official world below the mountain, if one's virtue is not worthy of the position, at worst it's a bad name in history. But on the mountain in cultivation, if one's strength is not worthy of the position, disaster awaits."
He also said that with his current flimsy cultivation level, he indeed couldn't be ranked on such a list. He would die if he encountered any of them in a contest for the Great Dao. At best, he could barely hold a spot among the subsequent ten alternates.
"What is your ambition, master?"
"For officialdom, being a humble start from a poor family, when I achieve my ambition in the future, I hope to become a prime minister who helps the Emperor regulate yin and yang."
"For cultivation, I strive to one day reach the Flying Ascension stage. Later, I'll go to the Azure Underworld Capital to see if there's a chance to continue being an official."
"Master, you like being an official that much?"
"I remember as a child during the one-year-old item-grasping ceremony, I grabbed an official seal."
"Official maniac."
It seemed his ancestors and father had only held minor local official positions.
"How did you come to know the Punishment Official Hao Su?"
"Through a dream visit."
Shao Benchu chatted with his maidservant while flipping through a latest landscape gazette.
However, no gazette from Hao Ran would write about the war on the Wild Continent. But Shao Benchu had sources and knew that a young cultivator from the School of Fiction had appeared on that battlefield, with the Dao name 'Petty Official.' He was unknown in Hao Ran but had become extremely prominent on the Wild Continent battlefield.
The disciples of the School of Fiction were initially tasked with building a village, independently constructing its geography, landscapes, and local customs. They proceeded step by step, from nothing to something, from few to many, from simple to complicated, practicing this way. Skill came from practice, and they gradually expanded their territory—from county to prefecture to state, to form a nation. They shaped landscape spirits, built City God temples, Martial and Civil temples, Wenchang pavilions, Buddhist and Daoist temples, and created immortal mountain sects and martial arts schools. Finally, people, objects, and events blossomed in a hundred ways. According to each fiction writer's personal preferences, everything within their "jurisdiction" was differently emphasized. The only shortcoming was that, situated in a blank-paper blessed land, even banished immortals couldn't feel the passage of time. Also, direction, timekeeping, weight, etc., were all separated from "reality" by what seemed like the thickness of a sheet of paper. The School of Fiction was also one of the Hundred Schools farthest from the human world.
And that young cultivator had single-handedly created a cavalry force of over a hundred thousand elite riders. Although these troops were too reliant on favorable timing and geography—once they left the blank-paper blessed land, their effectiveness would be greatly reduced, and they were susceptible to certain targeted immortal spells, being blown away by "wind and rain"—still, this feat of the Fiction School was something never seen in Hao Ran during the previous great war.
For certain battlefields in the future on the Wild Continent, they would be most suitable for temporary charges.
Shao Benchu regretted that he hadn't yet gone to the Wild Continent.
In a rural village school, Jiang Shangzhen, now working as a village teacher, was reading by lamplight, with a bowl of rough liquor and a plate of peanuts.
On Fallen Mountain, Mi Li was spreading out a "Celestial" diary. Most of the time, she just recorded the day's weather—whether it was cloudy or sunny, whether the sky was filled with rosy clouds or pure blue. Occasionally, she also wrote about whether the moon was full, or how passionately the azaleas bloomed in the mountain this year, or that a bowl of the old cook's homemade sour plum soup wasn't enough—not because she was greedy, not because Old Cooker's skill was too great, but because the bowl was too small.
And today, for instance, she had secretly slept in and found the window outside bright with sunlight. The heavens were in a good mood.