Chapter 1144: Not Knowing One's Place
Chen Ping'an smiled as he flicked the sword with his finger. The sword tip trembled slightly, producing a clear dragon-like clang. Rings of sword light rippled outward, illuminating his entire face with radiant energy—a man who had attained great freedom.
A caged bird that hits the wall the moment it slightly flaps its wings; a frog at the bottom of a well that gazes at the sky like looking at a boundary painting; the "we" who were tired of each other and each other's own worst enemy—finally, we can speak some big words, some heartfelt words, to this world.
Upon hearing this, Jiang She did not mock him but instead seemed to have an epiphany. "That finally makes sense."
Climbing mountains to seek immortality—fear something, and it will come? For Dao cultivators, fear of the one-in-ten-thousand chance turns into a certainty of ten thousand.
Jiang She, after all, was not at the fifteenth realm and could not transcend this path. He still had tribulations rising and falling, unavoidable. Jiang She glanced at Chen Ping'an. "Your true Dao age... it's far too young."
If he won, there would inevitably be suspicion of an unfair victory. If he lost, it would be an utter disaster.
On the other hand, this young sword cultivator—if he lost, it would be a glorious defeat; if he won, the future trends of the world would be unimaginable. Just think, how would that Zouzi, the one who calculates the heavens, handle himself then?
Jiang She curled his lips. Slightly exerting his divine powers, he crushed all these thoughts and ideas within his heart-mind, transforming them into other considerations.
The battle to ascend to heaven was the tribulation of weapons and blades. His great Dao had gone astray. He wanted to be the master, to occupy the ruins of the ancient heavenly court, to weaken the world and exalt only the military school. The "joint cutting" was his response to the tribulation.
Ten thousand years of imprisonment was another tribulation. Just as he seemed to escape the tribulation, a great calamity was upon him. When Jiang She's Dao heart rekindled and he wanted to reorganize the military school, the great Dao suppressed him again, shadowing him like a form.
Jiang She's very existence as the tribulation of the military school's founding ancestor naturally made him the object of others' coveted great opportunities. Of course, this thrilling high-stakes gamble was not something just anyone was qualified to join. Ordinary cultivators, unless they were at the fourteenth realm, even if they were at the Ascension realm—if their fate wasn't tough enough—would probably be affected by the great tribulation's aura if they got too close, turning into a cloud of tribulation ashes. But even fourteenth-realm cultivators—would they dare to interfere lightly? They would certainly keep their distance, watching from the sidelines. For example, Fu Lu and Yu Xuan, who had merged with the heavenly timing, and those who had merged with the earthly advantages—who would be willing to meddle in such a situation? One careless move, and their own great Dao would sink deep into the mire, unable to extricate themselves, leading to an irredeemable state.
Jiang She felt somewhat aggrieved and couldn't help but laugh and curse, "Cui Chan, that bastard."
Earlier, he had even thanked Xiu Hu, saying he owed him a favor. He didn't realize he had been cheated out of his money and was even helping count it?
Aside from a few complaints, Jiang She was unwilling to reveal more of his state of mind. Wouldn't it be even more frustrating to argue with a dead man, to wrestle with him?
Jiang She had had many speculations. This time, when he returned to the human world, among those who wanted to use conspiracies to usurp and replace him, Chen Ping'an, the former Hidden Officer, was also one of them. But after deduction and calculation, the possibility of Chen was extremely low.
The biggest reason was not that Chen Ping'an was too young or his realm temporarily too low, but that Chen Ping'an did not have such great ambition.
Furthermore, Chen Ping'an's biggest hypothetical enemy was Jade Capital and Yu Dou. For both sides, it was a personal grudge. Unexpectedly, Chen Ping'an suddenly changed his mind, withdrew the long sword in his hand, and let it leave the battlefield. With a flash of sword light, the sword appeared near the tilted giant pillar in the northwest that connected heaven and earth. Chen Ping'an moved slowly, rolling up his sleeves one by one, shaking his wrists, and said with a smile: "Then as you wish, let's practice first. Let this junior experience the immense strength of an eleventh-realm martial artist..."
Before Chen Ping'an could finish his words, Jiang She was already close, his fist hammering into Chen Ping'an's chest. Chen Ping'an's robe and the hairs at his temples flew up violently. A clear, pleasant sound of jade chimes echoed through the sky—the sound of Chen Ping'an's bones vibrating. His figure flew backward like a broken kite for over a thousand zhang. Golden blood seeped from his seven orifices and splattered on the ground.
Jiang She, having succeeded with one blow, paid no attention to those strangely golden bloodstains. The next moment, he was already on Chen Ping'an, his hands overlapping back-to-back, fingers hooked like talons, thrusting straight into Chen Ping'an's chest. He suddenly tore outward, actually ripping Chen Ping'an's body apart on the spot.
Jiang She squinted and stood still, casually wiping the golden blood splattered on his face. His face and palm sizzled, emitting wisps of green smoke that rose slowly. Jiang She seemed completely unaware of the burning sensation, looking around. The golden blood that had previously scattered and fallen to the ground did not stain the dust. Instead, each drop produced different phenomena, each manifesting its own great Dao. They landed and turned into rows of jade buildings and halls, mountains majestic and layered, as small as mounds; rivers with hundreds of water palaces and temples carved out, as miniature as threads. Even more wondrous was that within the towering mountains, there were truly green cranes crying out, true lords preaching, and celestial maidens scattering flowers. Within the winding rivers, here the misty waves were vast, there on the rapids and shoals, small boats flew like arrows...
Jiang She sneered, "Still playing tricks? Do you really think you're the Heavenly Lord?"
Jiang She slightly dispersed his divine sense, combined with deduction and mental calculation, following the water vein trends of the River of Time and the flow direction of heaven and earth's spiritual energy, like a deity patrolling his territory, covering every corner of the ruins without omission. Which military strategist famous in history wasn't a top-notch expert in geography? Jiang She twitched the corner of his mouth. Found you, kid. Jiang She did not shrink the earth but instead assumed the posture of pulling an empty bow full moon. His two fingers holding the "bowstring" suddenly released, and an "arrow" as thick as a well mouth shot out, not in a straight line, but like a great dragon or serpent slithering across the ground.
Somewhere, like a thousand mirrors being shattered by an arrow, countless pieces of glass burst and flew, brilliant and dazzling.
Chen Ping'an first used a thick fist intent to form a formation in front of him, a wild idea—using the "Iron Cavalry Breaching Formation" from the fist manual in reverse—to layer the momentum of the arrow that shot straight at him. Then he tried to use a normal Iron Cavalry Breaching punch to withstand the arrow, but it was futile. Not only was his fist shattered by the arrow, but his entire arm was also smashed... At the spot where Chen Ping'an stood, he was already missing an arm. All around, golden blood covered the ground. This time, a large array of golden trees and flowers appeared on the ground, varying in height, swaying gracefully, like a celestial garden.
An eleventh-realm fist was indeed unstoppable.
Chen Ping'an stood motionless, expressionless. From the severed shoulder, millions of golden threads spread outward, and in the blink of an eye, it returned to its original state.
Sure enough, the path to becoming a martial god was the most straightforward. In ancient times, it was the "clean stream" proper path; refining qi to become an immortal was the muddy stream, the deviant path.
Simply put, an eleventh-realm's fists and feet were irresistible. But today, on this battlefield, Jiang She used them against a "half-one" version of himself, and they didn't seem very effective.
Having received solid verification, Chen Ping'an felt somewhat relieved. He returned the favor with a polite remark: "I must also feel a bit awkward for you, senior."
Jiang She didn't mind and asked, "I heard you have a signature fist technique called 'Divine Man Beats Drum Style,' learned from Cui Cheng of Vase Continent. Not bad?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Not bad at all."
Jiang She asked with a smile, "Great Grandmaster Chen, you don't really think eleventh realm is only this much, do you?"
Chen Ping'an asked doubtfully, "Is it not?"
Jiang She said calmly, "There's no doubt—the fist is good. But if Cui Cheng were here, I could teach him what true 'Divine Man Beats Drum Style' really is."
It was said that on the Sword Qi Great Wall, Chen Ping'an, neglecting his proper duties as some second manager, had come up with the "Hundred Sword Immortals" and the "Sword Immortal Seal Manual."
In the past ten thousand years, Jiang She had lived in seclusion in the mountains, overlooking the human world. Martial arts flourished across several worlds. If one were to compile a "Hundred Fist Manual," warrior Cui Cheng would have two or three fists that could enter.
Chen Ping'an raised an eyebrow. He wanted to let this founding ancestor of the military school experience the simple and rustic language of his hometown town, but when the words reached his lips, he changed it to, "I'll be waiting with bated breath."
Jiang She clicked his tongue. "So slow on the uptake. No wonder you lost four times in a row to Cao Ci. Not unjustified at all."
Even though there was no visible sign of Jiang She making a move, Chen Ping'an was on high alert. He opened his fist stance and threw a punch toward the sky: "Vapors Rising from Great Marsh."
It turned out that Jiang She's first punch had already used "Divine Man Beats Drum Style."
The vast fist intent was like thick clouds, pressed down by an immortal's hand from the sky. In an instant, it hung low, about to touch the ground, merging into one.
After a moment, except for the spot where Chen Ping'an stood, the ground within dozens of miles sank seven or eight zhang. Those shocking cracks and gullies were all the joints and palm lines of a giant hand.
Chen Ping'an raised his hand to wipe his face, shook his head, and poured out the blood and water from his ears.
Just one punch, and it felt like a heavenly tribulation crushing down.
Chen Ping'an took a deep breath. It wasn't that he couldn't bear the pain; honestly, this injury was nothing.
But the suffocating feeling of seeing the fist as if seeing the sky was hard to endure.
Jiang She sneered, "If it were outer-worldly fourteenth-realm or Ascension realm qi refiners looking at the excitement and underestimating the eleventh realm of martial arts, that would be one thing. But you—a martial artist at the Return to Truth layer of the Ultimate Realm, on the verge of perfection, someone who has truly entered the hall—how dare you be careless?"
"Has that woman Feng Yi, now hiding in the Great Li capital, never told you how heavy Jiang She's fists were on the road to heaven back then? And the one who serves as a coachman for Nan Zan—how did just two fists create the first crack in his golden body?"
As he spoke, Jiang She still stood far away, without even changing his breath, and threw another dozen or so punches in one go. Chen Ping'an had no way to dodge; he could only receive the punches, relying on his physical body to endure.
Jiang She shook his head. "You and Cui Cheng—your bodies are ultimately only at the Ultimate Realm. You cannot bear the true meaning of such fist techniques and cannot truly carry them forward."
"You think I'm stealing your fist techniques?"
Jiang She's face was full of disdain, answering his own question. "It's just that ten thousand years later, a martial artist surnamed Cui happened to think of the same thing as I did back then."
After more than thirty punches, Chen Ping'an's almost pure, immeasurable golden body collapsed on the spot. As soon as he condensed his form in the distance, another twenty-plus punches arrived.
Clusters of golden light scattered and then gathered again. On the ground, pits suddenly collapsed everywhere, accompanied by a series of muffled thunder.
If this were a different battlefield, against a different opponent, wouldn't killing an Ascension realm be as easy as picking grass?
Jiang She seemed to find it somewhat boring, lacking energy. He yawned.
Without looking at the battlefield situation, Jiang She turned his head to look at the long sword and asked the biggest question with heart-mind voice: "What exactly was that ancient Heavenly Court Lord thinking?"
――――
In a village school.
After eating and drinking his fill, Jiang Shangzhen lay back in a rattan chair, imitating the old cook as he gently waved a palm-leaf fan. He said with a light chuckle, "Ning Ji, actually, your origin is not ordinary."
Ning Ji was somewhat surprised, not knowing why Mr. Jiang would bring up this topic voluntarily. He hesitated, wanting to speak but stopping.
After spending these days together, Ning Ji truly admired Mr. Jiang's ability to adapt to local customs. He could chat idly with the farmers and village women for an hour or two, cross his legs, joke around, and even the few stray dogs in the village would be happy to follow him.
Ning Ji had been to Fallen Mountain and heard some things. Back here, he almost forgot Mr. Jiang's titles and certain reputations in the mountains.
Jiang Shangzhen continued, "I can say this, and you can understand it?"
Ning Ji nodded.
Jiang Shangzhen seemed intent on getting to the bottom of things. "Then I'm curious—how do you understand it exactly? Let me see if your thoughts match my guesses."
Ning Ji hesitated, then chose to speak frankly. "If it were just you taking me on as a student, I might not think much of it. At most, I would think that it was a kind-hearted teacher taking pity on me, and I was just lucky to meet you. But then there's also the Jade Capital's Headmaster Lu, who said I could regard him as a... little teacher. Unless I were a fool, I would know that things aren't that simple."
Jiang Shangzhen hummed in acknowledgment. "So, to take you as a student, our Mountain Lord Chen incurred considerable responsibility and set off significant karma. This inevitably added some unexpected elements."
Ning Ji was silent.
"Rest assured, don't be nervous or anxious. Telling you this truth is not to make you think you must study hard, cultivate diligently, or waste your talents. It's not to burden you, as if every tomorrow of Ning Ji's must be lived more heavily to justify Chen Ping'an's choice back then. That's not the case. Honestly, if I had such thoughts, and Chen Ping'an found out one day, with his temper, he would beat the crap out of me... Then this Jiang person would no longer be the chief guest elder."
Perhaps because Jiang Shangzhen spoke humorously, Ning Ji grinned, and his mood lightened.
Jiang Shangzhen continued, "I just hope that a boy whose fate has been rough but has finally seen a turn of luck, when he encounters something that feels unfair and baffling, he can feel a little less wronged. He can tell himself, 'Be a bit more patient, look more, think more.' Even if he can't figure it out, there will always be someone in the future to help clarify things. At worst, he can go tattle to his teacher."
Ning Ji nodded. "I'll remember."
Jiang Shangzhen sat up, handed the fan to Ning Ji, and said, "I need to take a long trip."
Ning Ji asked softly, "Mr. Jiang, this is...?"
Jiang Shangzhen smiled. "Doing something big that doesn't need to be spread around."
Ning Ji started to worry about Mr. Jiang, again hesitating.
Jiang Shangzhen said, "Your teacher said a strange thing to me then. He said, 'That's precisely why I need to protect you even better.' I can barely understand that idea, but I certainly couldn't do such a thing."
"Because I think the world has only one Jiang Shangzhen. I don't resemble anyone, and no one resembles me. But Chen Ping'an thinks he resembles many old men, and many youths will resemble him."
Standing next to the rattan chair and Ning Ji, Jiang Shangzhen gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Even I can't understand that."
Standing in the swaying world, hiding in the stable heart-hometown.
Perhaps each of us has a heart-dwelling with the door closed, big or small.
Outside the door, the road—wide or narrow, leading into the distance—is probably called a dream.
Before leaving, Jiang Shangzhen asked, "Ning Ji, tell me, your teacher and I are clearly two different kinds of people. How did we end up together? And have a decent relationship?"
Ning Ji shook his head. "Mr. Jiang, let me think? When you return to teach at the school, I'll give you the answer then?"
Jiang Shangzhen laughed loudly. "Think about what? Don't you already have the answer? If I'm not mistaken, it's one word: money!"
――――
Yuan Ying intentionally stayed at the back of the group, lagging a long distance, walking alone on the foreign road. Unknown wildflowers bloomed brilliantly, their fragrance overwhelming. Yuan Ying lifted her embroidered shoe and lightly brushed a nearby cluster of short, pale yellow flowers. She turned her head from time to time, as if waiting for someone to catch up.
She was born in the Poem Verse Blessed Land in the Azure World, but her two Dao-transmitters were both Righteous World cultivators: her great master, Liu Qi, and her second master, Cao Zu. They were not only her teachers in Dao transmission but also raised her like their own.
Sure enough, Liu Qi soon appeared, with the peerless elegance of a white-robed prime minister banished immortal. His expression was gentle, and he exchanged a few words of encouragement with this beloved personal disciple. There wasn't much to discuss about cultivation matters, as Yuan Ying was such a celestial material that cultivation was like breathing for a mortal scholar.
Liu Qi took the initiative to talk about the night sailing ship with its unpredictable whereabouts, giving Yuan Ying a chance to board and explore, such as visiting the Entry City and the Unicorn Heart City.
Yuan Ying teased, "Great Master, why don't you and Second Master join our sect? It would be more lively."
Liu Qi looked up at the group ahead, shook his head, and said nothing.
Besides Zhang Fenghai, who was already a solid fourteenth-realm cultivator, there was also the martial artist Xin Ku, one of the ten paragons of the Azure World.
And there was Lyu Bixia, one of the ten alternates, who served as the sect's Discipline Patriarch.
The female patriarch of the Eternal State Immortal Staff Sect, Shi Xingyuan, Dao name "Cloud Seizer." She was in charge of the sect's finances. Her realm wasn't high, but her authority was great.
For such a sect, no matter how few its members, who would dare underestimate it?
At the front of the group, the deputy patriarch was egging on the patriarch: "Patriarch, as long as we take out that Bai Shang from North Ulūra Continent, we'll be the sect with the fewest members! Not tempted?" Seeing the patriarch unmoved, Lu Tai continued to prod, "I heard he just broke through to the Ascension realm a few days ago. Even if Bai Shang is a sword cultivator, his realm is unstable. With all of us here, surging in together, wouldn't the great sword immortal Bai lose his composure? Once his Dao heart is disturbed, Brother Xin Ku's giant fist smashes down, Patriarch Lyu follows up with a Dao technique, and then I can take advantage of the chaos to strike his heart with a 'black tiger steals the heart' and kill him in one blow..."
Although they hadn't known each other long, the Nameless One still admired Lu Tai's thick skin and his offbeat talk. And increasingly, he admired Zhang Fenghai's tolerance. Having someone blather like that in his ear every day—how could he endure it? Didn't it annoy him?
Zhang Fenghai smiled. "Just ignore it. Over time, you get used to it. Don't respond, and see how many words he can ramble on in one breath. Treat it as listening to a storyteller for free."
The Nameless One nodded with a smile. "Indeed, a good method."
Shi Xingyuan rolled her eyes. "Deputy Patriarch Lu, say fewer useless words. Talk about something serious." Even when traveling across worlds, Shi Xingyuan still dressed like she was in the Misty Grotto of Jade Capital: a dark-skinned, slender woman with a wooden hairpin, cloth skirt, and cotton shoes, like a young rural woman who worked all year round. Among this divine team of immortals, Shi Xingyuan stood out conspicuously.
Lu Tai complained, "When addressing an official position, don't include the 'deputy.' Don't you understand official rules?"
Shi Xingyuan was helpless. She communicated with heart-mind to Zhang Fenghai: "Patriarch, why don't you establish a sect rule forbidding Lu Tai from speaking?"
Zhang Fenghai also ignored her.
Lu Tai coughed a few times, moistened his throat, and began to narrate some old, old tales: "In ancient times, there were heavenly gods and earthly deities. The majesty of the Heavenly Dao was unfathomable, so many shamans and invokers appeared in the human world. Their duty was to entertain the gods, offer prayers, and chant praises—they were the ones who connected with the spirits. They were like interpreters of the changes in heaven and earth, explaining the joys and sorrows of the Heavenly Lord to us. But because our human bodies were too weak, the physically strong demons could freely hunt and kill us, using us as food. In early times, humans had almost no power to resist, causing the incense offerings to be insufficient. The old heavenly court gods thought this wouldn't do. One by one, the gods of the Thunder Department, carrying vast celestial might, came to the human world first, killing those stubborn demons. Their corpses piled up like mountains. But this treatment was merely a temporary solution, not a lasting cure."
"What to do?"
"Either kill all the man-eating demons completely, or make humans—who were even more insignificant than ants—a bit... bigger. In later Confucian classics, there were disputes between the ancient and modern. People too—there are distinctions. For example, we all belong to the category of 'modern people.' The founding ancestor of the military school and those old fellows, however, are undisputed 'ancient people.' The gods began to give us sturdy physiques and a bit more soul. The one soul and two po of the ancient people became the three souls and six po of modern people."
Lyu Bixia asked, "Isn't it three souls and seven po?"
Lu Tai laughed. "The last po was found by ancient Daoists after much hardship. It was not a gift from the gods."
Shi Xingyuan suddenly realized. "So that's why later generations offer incense in temples with either three, six, or nine sticks."
Lu Tai stared. "I didn't say that! Couldn't it be like the seals on paintings and calligraphy, using odd numbers—one or three—to supplement the yang?"
Lu Tai quickly clasped his hands together, muttered something, and then said seriously, "Scholars and refined men, who pour their hearts into their work and write books to establish their teachings, are often described as 'a wisp of heart-incense.'"
Earlier, when he said the word "hunt," Lu Tai deliberately glanced sideways at the Nameless One.
Lu Tai turned his head to Li Huai and asked with a grin, "Assuming the River of Time is an incense burner, Li Huai, guess what the new incense is?"
Li Huai shook his head. He was never good at riddles and puzzles.
Xin Ku said, "Your seven po are the incense burner, and the three souls are the incense."
Hearing such an astonishing answer, Li Huai was shocked and couldn't help but wonder: what did he mean by "your"?
Lu Tai said cheerfully, "The Dao Ancestor was the first to propose the 'Way of Heaven' and the 'Way of Man.' Hence, the concept of 'offering' emerged. In this way, the gods of the ancient heavenly court were no longer the sole and only orthodox representatives of the Heavenly Dao. The 'Heavenly Dao' seemed to have a nascent distinction between the old and the new. This provided the Dao basis for the cultivation paths of qi refiners, Daoists, scholars, and the hundred schools of thought."
"There was now a path."
"And a legitimate path at that. Later, Little Master—that is, our Ritual Saint—severed the connection between heaven and earth and cast the nine tripods on the mountain peaks."
"Before that, how to breathe, eat, sleep, how to walk, think—why there is thinking, where thoughts come from, where they go... All such simple questions became the hardest questions. Over time, this became refining qi; understanding it was cultivation. During this period, there were also downpours of techniques like rain—a true timely help. A group of 'ancient Daoists' who cultivated into human form even broke through the bottleneck of the Golden Body realm. From then on, they became like immortals, flying across the earth, riding the wind, soaring on clouds, higher than birds, to enjoy the scenery on the bright moon, to hear the Dao in the Sun Palace... They attained the Peak realm, the three layers of the Ultimate Realm: Qi Flourishing, Return to Truth, and Divine Arrival..."
Hearing this, Li Huai couldn't help but ask softly, "Didn't the heavens care?"
Lu Tai nodded empathetically. "They did, of course they did."
"An ant that's a bit bigger is still an ant. Even if the Daoists and martial artists huddled together to keep warm, it was still just an ant nest. The gods descended, killing until the human world ran with rivers of blood, killing every awakened, sentient being until they trembled and dared not cross the line."
"Do you know how vast the human world's territory was back then? So vast that when the gods came to the human world, they needed two Ascension Platforms as roads?"
"As for martial arts and Dao techniques—same source, different currents..."
After all, every wisp of heart-incense smoke that rose from the human world was a divine path to heaven.
Just then, Lu Tai was struck as if by lightning. His face turned slightly pale, and he urgently warned, "Not good! There's an ambush!"
The Nameless One couldn't help but feel tense. After all, these days, anyone who dared to come here to cause trouble was either a suicidal fool or a top-tier expert.
Far away, Yuan Ying was startled. Liu Qi smiled and said, "You genuinely like someone like that? Isn't he a bit too unreliable?"
Seeing her master's casual expression, Yuan Ying felt relieved and communicated with her heart-mind: "He is too pessimistic. When I see it, I can't help but feel sorry for him."
Liu Qi nodded. "I've come to know Lu Tai too."
On the path ahead, out of nowhere appeared a thin, gaunt old man and an unremarkable middle-aged man, like a wealthy old gentleman and his porter.
Yuan Ying had two masters. Lu Tai also had two masters.
Lu Tai was not surprised at all. The appearance of his two Dao-transmitters was something he had expected—sooner or later.
In the mountains, there were very few figures whose surname alone revealed their identity.
Zou was one of them.
――――
Jiang She had not used a single breath of pure true qi from start to finish.
From beginning to end, Chen Ping'an was utterly powerless to fight back. Countless drops of golden blood scattered on the ground, turning this ancient battlefield ruin into a vibrant place. First, mountains and rivers appeared, then cities and passes rose, and finally, the bustle of the marketplace emerged, like a vivid painting of the human world. All that was needed was for "various characters" to take up residence, and then the land would have a true master and come to life.
The only flaw, a slight blemish, was that over seventy "ropes" crisscrossed the sky and earth—persistent fist intent—like iron wires cutting through this tofu-soft world.
Jiang She merely furrowed his brow slightly. He had already thought highly of this person, but it seemed he was even more troublesome than expected? The quick victory he had envisioned would be hard to achieve?
He glanced at the long sword from the corner of his eye.
Whether the old sword bar hanging under the stone arch bridge of the Pearl Grotto-Heaven was the manifestation of the Sword-Holder's sword spirit or the true body of one of the Five Supremes, the Sword-Holder, it didn't matter much.
The hardest part was the beginning. Once the contract was formed, it was a clear path to heaven that wouldn't be abandoned halfway.
As a native pottery apprentice, when Chen Ping'an obtained this opportunity back then, the benefits this sword had given its contracted master on the subsequent cultivation path were too few—far too few.
Jiang She had founded the military school. One of the roots of his great Dao was to make the right timing, geographical advantages, and human harmony of everything serve him like an arm, turning them into his own use.
Failing to make full use of a "sword spirit" was a gross waste.
A poor family that couldn't even open its stove but owned a priceless scholar's desk ornament—year after year, it was just a decoration. What for? To feast their eyes while starving their stomachs every day?
In Jiang She's view, perhaps there had been a disagreement between the two senior brothers of the Wen Sheng lineage, Qi Jingchun and Cui Chan. They held different views, their great Daos opposed, and their doctrines extremely difficult to reconcile. Qi Jingchun, who convinced the "sword spirit" to acknowledge its master, was a pure Confucian who read the sages' books. He didn't want Chen Ping'an to be overly influenced by external things and corrupt his Dao heart and original nature. He wanted Chen Ping'an and the sword spirit to deliberately keep a distance, establishing a sixty-year covenant. The sword spirit's main duty was to be an invisible talisman of protection, not needing to show itself, just used to deter a handful of peak mountain cultivators, warning them not to act recklessly based on their realm and cultivation. Whoever broke the rules should beware—the rules of the human world might also disappear.
In this process, of course, there were those who didn't believe it, who stirred restlessly. The Ascension realm Zhongxing ancestor of the Indus Leaf Sect became a ready example, used to warn those behind the scenes.
One should know that even Du Mao's immortal cocoon is still the personal property of Fallen Mountain. The registered disciples of the Indus Leaf Sect's ancestral hall couldn't possibly be completely unaware of the inside story. Yet who dared to say anything?
Those who knew the Fallen Mountain and Mountain Lord Chen slightly would clearly understand why Chen Ping'an always refused to call Qi Jingchun "Senior Uncle" and respectfully addressed him as "Mr. Qi." To Chen Ping'an, Qi Jingchun was like a teacher in a private school, well-read and knowledgeable. Within that scholarly family, he taught the young student the arts of governance and examination. What the former taught and the latter learned were all aimed at becoming a sage or a worthy. Then one day, the slightly older youth said he wouldn't study anymore, ran up to the mountains, became an outlaw, raised a banner, and said he wanted to usurp the throne and become the emperor himself.
Because everyone knew how profound Qi Jingchun's influence on Chen Ping'an was, when Jiang She heard Chen Ping'an's bold words of "establishing a school and becoming an ancestor," he felt extremely uncomfortable.
If it were the equally young Cao Ci saying such "rebellious words," Jiang She wouldn't find it so strange; at most, he would be slightly surprised.
Cui Chan advocated the study of practical achievements, blending the hundred schools into one furnace. A single Book-Scroll Lake forced Chen Ping'an to lose a golden gall bladder. Not to mention reading ten thousand books and traveling ten thousand miles—even if he read millions or tens of millions of volumes and traveled across several worlds and the entire human world, he had completely lost the possibility of cultivating a destiny character. Later, on the Sword Qi Great Wall, Chen Ping'an had merged with half of the Sword Qi Great Wall, completely losing the chance to travel with his yin spirit or send out his yang spirit.
Key is, Cui Chan's attitude toward Chen Ping'an was always like some official evaluation in a capital inspection: too low ability, too poor talent, fragile Dao heart, not suitable for great use.
When the truth came to light, everything Cui Chan and Qi Jingchun—these two senior brothers—had done was all a damn cover-up?
In his field of vision, Chen Ping'an had recovered his original appearance again. As if he had guessed what Jiang She was thinking, Chen Ping'an laughed. "You might be mistaken. The worst-tempered person in our Wen Sheng lineage is Mr. Qi. The one with the best temperament and patience is actually Senior Brother Cui."
"For example, dismantling Zhengyang Mountain—I learned just a bit of fur from Senior Brother Cui. Successfully challenging Zhengyang Mountain with swords and then erecting a monument—I learned from Mr. Qi."
As he spoke and walked, the mountain and river scenes melted away like flowing water, merging with their master.
Jiang She had seen too many divine abilities and techniques. He wasn't surprised by this. Not bad—Chen Ping'an's method wasn't too shocking. Although it didn't consume Dao base or spiritual energy, it did consume heart spirit.
"Isn't it that you think you've had too few opportunities in this life to exchange fists with an Ultimate Realm martial artist? Today, I'll let you eat until you're full, even until you're stuffed, until you vomit."
"Pei Bei, Zhang Tiaoxia, Li Er, Song Changjing, Wu Shu, Ye Yunyun, Wang Fusu—these Ultimate Realm fighters—how about I have each of them deliver their peak punches to you a few times? Is that enough?"
Those Ultimate Realm martial artists whom Jiang She "named" and summoned by decree lined up in a row between him and Chen Ping'an.
Like on a battlefield—long spears and halberds, majestic and invincible. The Ultimate Realm forming a formation, like a line of tidal bore, making ten thousand cavalry flee.
Chen Ping'an seemed to have been waiting for this moment.
He let out a soft breath, steadied his mind, and began to charge forward.
Jiang She, not having gotten the truth from the "Sword-Holder," was also quite curious about one thing. He couldn't help but ask, "Chen Qingdu was not a petty person. You did so many things for him, and you're half a son-in-law of the Sword Qi Great Wall. Given Chen Qingdu's usual temper of owing everything—money, wine, swords, anything but favors—and since you're a junior he took a liking to, he should have given you something. That gift must have been substantial. What's this? Do you think you haven't yet reached a life-or-death situation and still have to hide it? Afraid that those diviners in Jade Capital will calculate your luck and next time you challenge 'True Invincible,' you'll lose the initiative?"
When he said "True Invincible," Jiang She laughed heartily. "True Invincible—good Dao name. Why didn't Bai Jing grab it?"
At this moment, Chen Ping'an naturally had no time to answer this question.
Because Jiang She had decreed more "Ultimate Realm martial artists"—the top heroes of various eras, martial arts grandmasters renowned throughout the world, each with their own invincibility.
Every punch they threw was masterful, was at the perfect realm.
Conveniently, Jiang She only expended a bit of heart spirit, without needing to mobilize even a wisp of heaven and earth's spiritual energy.
Jiang She watched the exhausted figure on the battlefield. The more he watched, the more dull it became. "Practicing martial arts and training fists—in the end, you just get a tough body, forge a turtle shell. Is there even one or two fists that are truly your own?"
"Following rules, afraid of making mistakes, only stepping in the footprints of predecessors—that's saving effort and energy. And you still have the face to delude yourself into thinking you can surpass Cao Ci?"
Jiang She saw "Pei Bei" punch off half of Chen Ping'an's face, then another top martial artist from barbaric history almost break his neck...
Jiang She shook his head, losing patience. "You, Chen Ping'an, dare to hope to kill Jiang She and audaciously speak of establishing a school and becoming an ancestor?!"
Because each Ultimate Realm martial artist only delivered the few punches that carried the heaviest weight and the most intense fist intent in their lives, it gave Chen Ping'an, who was in dire straits, a few chances to breathe and catch his breath.
It seemed that kid was still tough. One could faintly hear some hometown dialect mixed in with his curses.
Jiang She laughed. "Kid, showing off your fists and feet in front of me—do you know what this is called? This is called..."
"Returning to the clan to acknowledge your ancestors!"
On the battlefield, dust flew, blotting out the sky and covering the sun. Gradually, all the martial artists' figures disappeared. Various fist intents converged and interlaced, already condensed into a substance as thick as water.
Was Chen Ping'an trying to use receiving punches to hone his own martial arts, taking the opportunity to break through the bottleneck of the Ultimate Realm Return to Truth layer? In the midst of a life-and-death battle, engaging in a Great Dao dispute, and still daring to be so arrogant?
Jiang She had somehow changed his position. With a solemn expression, he lightly lifted the long spear "Break Formation." The man and the object had not opened formation in ten thousand years. Gazing into the distance at that mustard-seed figure, the founding ancestor of the military school seemed disappointed. Holding the spear, Jiang She walked slowly toward the gradually clearing battlefield, his expression indifferent. "In times without heroes, a mere nobody gains fame. Not knowing one's place at all."