# Chapter 1168: The Ones on the Steps
(The Sword Comes animation has already started airing on Tencent Video. If you have time, you might take a look...)
Ten thousand miles of azure waves, the night-traveling ship like a drifting duckweed leaf, the starry sky bright and brilliant, like the most beautiful caisson ceiling in the world.
Such a refreshing wind.
They arrived at the aerial bridge suspended between two towering buildings. Since Chen Ping'an was the acting city lord of Lingxi City, he enjoyed many conveniences. Once he lifted the mountain-water restrictions of the city and the ship, the tranquil yet magnificently vast vista of sea and sky lay spread before them, unobstructed.
Xiao Mo's delivery of the sword this time encountered none of the expected complications—it went exceptionally smoothly. Unexpected, yet reasonable.
Across the various worlds, those who could block that sword light needed to be at least Flying Ascension stage cultivators stationed at their own monasteries.
Furthermore, Old Fourteen, the sacrifices ascending to heaven, Bai Ye's reincarnation, and figures like Green Jasper Cave Lord—when that sword light traveled through the Green Abyss World, they directly manifested a majestic Dharma form within the bright splendor of a full moon. The old Daoist was determined to see who would be so blind as to dare obstruct the sword light.
The Bright World didn't block it, the Desolate World didn't stop it, the Western Buddhist Kingdoms also let it pass smoothly. So why would the Green Abyss World, where this poor Daoist resides, be the one to stir up trouble?
As for those new Fourteen—some hidden, some visible—most were busily stabilizing their Dao foundations, cherishing this hard-won cultivation far too much to seek unnecessary complications or engage in any conflict of pride. Others, like Elegant Minister Yao Qing, had different pursuits. What did the fleeting sword light have to do with them?
Moreover, with the earlier celestial anomalies creating such a commotion, even Flying Ascension stage cultivators—provided they had some skill in star-watching, divination, or deduction, or even a modicum of self-cultivation—would not act rashly. With the Purple Tenuity Palace stirring and the Northern Dipper marking death, those nine sharp sword beams descending upon the mortal world to some place in the Desolate World—would anyone gamble that the swordsman who triggered these celestial phenomena was already spent, too weak to deliver another strike? Since there was no conflict over the Great Dao, there was no need to take such a risk, no need to gamble.
Such an "opening gambit" was uncommon. Let the subsequent, harmless sword light roam freely through the mortal world.
That being the case, who would dare challenge it?
Cui Dongshan hung both sleeves over the railing, smiling. "That Xiao Xun didn't get itchy hands—I'm rather surprised by that."
Xie Gou sneered, "Block it? Fine, block it, will you? That would make it a personal grudge, a mortal enmity. Whether by the customs ten thousand years ago or the rules of the Desolate World today, if Xiao Mo and I go find her there someday, old Master Bai certainly won't meddle."
The sable-hatted girl slammed her forehead hard against the railing, utterly furious. "Sure enough, if you're not at the Fourteen stage, you just can't speak with any authority!"
Chen Ping'an was discussing something with Liu Xianyang via heart-to-heart communication. He first told him about the "newly established heavenly laws" and the operational rules of the Great Dao atop that new mountain peak. He explained that once he returned to the Fuyao Grotto monastery, he would certainly need to go into seclusion and might need Liu Xianyang's guidance on that particular swordsmanship technique. He had never quite grasped its essence, progress was slow—he was sorely lacking in too much divine intent.
Liu Xianyang leaned on the railing, raising one hand to gesture lazily. "Let me handle it. Why all this trouble? Just give me those scrolls of figures, and I'll take care of those Desolate World martial artists who got the title 'strongest.' They won't even know how they died."
Chen Ping'an said, "For now, we mustn't startle the enemy. I'll go to the Desolate World battlefield eventually. I need to ensure instant kills—all of them, sudden deaths."
At some future Desolate World battlefield, those who carried the true names of the Celestial Race, below the Flying Ascension stage, would be picked off one by one!
Those who had appeared at that mountain peak where "I Am the Host"—martial arts below the Peak Mountain stage—all would die!
Chen Ping'an added, "A rough estimate: I need to reach the Flying Ascension stage while simultaneously breaking through to the Divine Arrival tier in martial arts. I had some confidence before, always felt I was steady—knew the fastest and slowest paces in my heart. But now..."
Listening to Chen Ping'an's string of hometown dialect, Liu Xianyang nodded. "When you go into seclusion, just send me a flying sword message. The heaven-defying genius Sword Immortal Liu will make a trip to Fuyao Grotto and properly teach the diligent-but-slow Chen Peak Master."
Chen Ping'an tucked his hands into his sleeves, grinning. "Alright, impressive."
Liu Xianyang turned his head and asked, "Xiao Mo, would you like a seat in my sect's Patriarch Hall? It's just one sentence away!"
Having received his master's subtle signal, Xiao Mo immediately shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, Lord Liu, but as my master's death-sworn retainer, I shouldn't be distracted."
Liu Xianyang didn't even look at Chen Ping'an, raising his arm and slapping the back of his hand against the latter's forehead. "No need to be distracted at all! That seat can just stay empty. I'd be using it to make a show of strength, scare people off. A Fourteen-stage sword cultivator serving as a nominal honorary patron in my sect—how impressive would that be? It would make this Grand Sword Immortal Liu seem even more unfathomable."
Xiao Mo had to explain via heart-to-heart communication: "I've heard some stories up in the mountains—tales about your master and mine. Don't know if they're true, so let's just forget it."
Liu Xianyang elbowed Chen Ping'an in the shoulder. The sable-hatted girl planted her hands on her hips, speaking up for justice. "Brother Liu, if you keep manhandling our Peak Master like that, I'll have to set aside our sibling bond and uphold righteousness by turning against you!"
Liu Xianyang reached out and patted her sable hat. "Rebellious, are you? Watch how you speak to your dear big brother Liu—closer than a blood brother."
Suddenly, Jiang She spoke via heart-to-heart: "Chen Ping'an, care to walk elsewhere?"
Chen Ping'an nodded.
They walked off the rainbow bridge and descended from the tall building toward the streets. Jiang She laughed. "Pei Qian's martial arts aptitude is better than yours."
Chen Ping'an, hands tucked in his sleeves, replied bluntly, "None of your damn business."
Jiang She continued as if to himself, "Never mind that Pei Qian is younger than you, started learning boxing later. Never mind that she's my daughter and your disciple. Never mind that you two, master and disciple, are both at the same threshold stage, with her slightly higher than you..."
Chen Ping'an said, "Then don't say it."
Jiang She laughed in exasperation. "Hey, Chen, my patience and temper have limits too."
Chen Ping'an said, "If I'm such an eyesore and my words irritate you, then don't go to Treasure Vase Continent. Should I disembark right now and give you some space?"
Jiang She thought of what his Dao partner and the old scholar had said. Suppressing his stubborn nature, he continued his earlier topic. "I'm just speaking as an experienced senior, evaluating two young martial artists who've reached the same threshold. Take it or leave it."
"Pei Qian has passed the stage where 'the person follows the fist.' Nothing can stop her after that—Divine Arrival is inevitable. Take something as simple as walking: Pei Qian walks the posts, and you're always refining your Fist Intent method. 'Master and disciple, monkey see monkey do'—that's not just an empty saying. But Pei Qian's bearing is greater than yours. Every time she circulates a breath of pure true qi, within her personal heaven-and-earth it brings great changes in rain and drought, day and night, solar terms. That's what it truly means to be 'my body, my spirit, my heaven and earth.' You're far behind in this regard. If we use cultivation terminology, you're only seeking in techniques. Even if you seek them to the utmost, so what? You're still a hair's breadth from the Dao. 'Near the Dao' is, after all, only 'near.' A hair's breadth makes the difference between heaven and earth. Azure heaven and yellow earth cannot join via the Dao. The pure remains pure, the turbid remains turbid. Forcibly forging them into a chaotic unity is only an illusion. How can that open the orifice, like heaven opening its eye? And if the eye does open, how can you guarantee it's not just a fleeting phenomenon?"
"You whelp, don't think that because there's still a Fire Dragon lurking within your internal heaven, you can rest on your laurels and harbor false hopes. This next step is the true bottleneck in your martial path, boy. Don't let this hard-won thread of opportunity go to waste—that would be a terrible shame."
After talking for a long while, Jiang She found it odd that this bastard hadn't talked back even once. Had he run out of poison, with nothing left in stock?
"I know good from bad."
Chen Ping'an grumbled, "Even a bastard like you can occasionally speak a few words of conscience."
Jiang She was momentarily speechless.
Back at the gallery bridge, Xie Gou whispered, "They're not going to start another fight over one disagreement, are they?"
Jiang Shangzhen laughed. "What's there to fear? We've got numbers on our side..."
"What I'm afraid of is the Peak Master beating him to death."
Xie Gou quickly corrected herself. "Oh no, I mean back to life."
Five Words said via heart-to-heart: "White Scenery! I told you no embellishments!"
Xie Gou sighed with a rising tone. "But I'm a woman, a pretty one at that. My words have never held weight anyway."
Liu Xianyang chuckled. "Don't worry. Chen Ping'an is very measured in his actions. His luck with women is better than mine, his luck with elders is worse—but that's only compared to me. All in all, he's still doing pretty well."
Luck with elders doesn't just fall from the sky.
Song Yu Shao liked that outsider youth who claimed to be from the Dragon Spring Commandery of Great Li—a single-minded, stubborn stickler for principles. Young as he was, he had the bearing of an old jianghu veteran. Hence the saying: "Hotpot with liquor, I've got the world in my pocket." Or consider Bai Bo of the Cut Jade Mountain Bamboo Branch Sect—he appreciated both the young receptionist "Chen Jiu's" lively, uninhibited nature and the young man's seriousness and tenacity. That's why he wanted to take him as a disciple, yet didn't stop the youth from wandering the world. He simply did his utmost to arrange a way back for "Chen Jiu." To this day, the old man still wondered when he could drink at the young man's wedding, having long prepared his gift money, with a promise to sit at the head table!
As for Old Blindman of the Hundred-Thousand Mountains—had he felt that the young man, having traveled countless miles and read countless books, working so hard, still failed to refine his own Life-bound Word? Was the Grand Sword Immortal's speech unpleasant? Did the bull-headed Green Jasper Cave Lord hold grudges? Did the menial Daoists of Black View Abbey think that Reverend Sun was merely a transcendent hermit playing at being among the mundane?
As Chen Ping'an himself said, what those elders truly valued was probably some younger version of themselves.
Some people forever harbor a youth in their hearts, about to head out into the jianghu tomorrow, certain to make a name for himself the day after.
Some people forever hide a child in their hearts—not timid, not naive—they simply think there's nothing good about the jianghu.
By the same token, Chen Ping'an saw shadows of himself in Zhao Shu Xia, Ning Ji, Deng Jian Ping, and the others.
Chen Ping'an said, "Take it slow, then."
Jiang She asked, "And the great trends of the world—do you get to decide them?"
Chen Ping'an replied, "Then what can I do? You have to eat your meal one bite at a time. In life, the things before you are either big matters or small matters. Might as well treat big matters as small matters, and think of small matters as big matters. 'Might as well' could also be 'can only.'"
Make gradual progress over time. Before long, every day becomes a "Little Immortal God of Nothing-to-Do-Today" season.
Yesterday's storms would be over. Today would be passable. Tomorrow would be better. The day after tomorrow, the willows would sway, and spring would arrive, wouldn't it?
"Any young man under fifty years of Dao age, putting on an old air and spouting such empty-sounding grand principles—you, boy, have experienced quite a bit, witnessed some scenes. Using events to explain principles, that barely gives you a shred of substance."
Reaching a hand beside his ear, Xie Gou kept eavesdropping on that conversation, never siding with outsiders. "Same age, similar Dao age—I'd bet Jiang She was still getting knocked around and crying his head off. The scar's healed, the pain forgotten. Acts like it never happened."
Five Words covered her mouth with a laugh. No falsehood there.
Ning Yao returned to the night-traveling ship with Pei Qian, both appearing at the gallery bridge.
It was clear that Pei Qian was in much better spirits. Yet she still refused to look at Jiang She down on the street, though she did meet the woman's gaze for an instant.
The woman immediately burst into tears.
A single glance, waited ten thousand years. This situation was hard on her too.
But she didn't dare say a single word, afraid that her daughter, who had suffered so much, might think she was complaining.
The burly man on the street hesitated, then retreated into the corner alley, casually sitting on the steps of a shop entrance.
Chen Ping'an leaned against the wall, saying nothing.
---
On Mount Ruzhou, the foremost immortal master, surnamed Zhu with the Dao name "Green Duckweed," had been in seclusion, diligently researching a large talisman he had fortuitously obtained from a ruin. As for breaking through realms and merging with the Dao, he still didn't dare hope for it in the short term. But now he was disturbed, his mind unsettled, so he left his cave dwelling to see what was happening. Once outside, he looked at the celestial phenomenon—and the sight shocked him speechless. First, within the Purple Tenuity Palace, it seemed the Heavenly Emperor himself had manifested in person. Then, the Northern Dipper—seven visible, two hidden—sent down nine sword beams straight to the mortal world, as if issuing an imperial decree reprimanding the human realm.
Old Zhu earnestly began to calculate with his fingers, exhausting his Dao power to deduce the celestial secrets... Enough, enough—his fingers were practically smoking. He shook his wrists vigorously, then drew a folded fan from his sleeve, tapping it lightly against his palm. After a moment's thought, his form transformed into a rainbow, rushing like wind and lightning, riding the wind straight toward Crow Mountain.
Crow Mountain was not an immortal estate and had no mountain-protecting formation. Old Zhu's figure landed on the ground. His opening words were blunt: "Crossed the threshold?"
Lin Jiangxian laughed and teased, "Sharp nose. Smelled the fresh kill?"
Old Zhu said, "Master Lin, I asked you a question."
Lin Jiangxian nodded. "Broken through."
"Rejoice and congratulations."
Old Zhu clasped his hands and shook them vigorously, then sighed softly. "Pity the poor mortal world—it'll be scrambling now."
Lin Jiangxian said nothing.
Old Zhu spoke via heart-to-heart: "Our 'Wood Master'—have I already met 'her'?"
Lin Jiangxian said, "That would be Gu Yan Ge of Youzhou's Pipa Peak."
Old Zhu drew out his folding fan and slapped his forehead. "I knew it!"
So it was you. So she was her!
To be precise, Gu Yan Ge was, of course, just a "vessel" through which "she" walked the mortal world.
Gu Yan Ge, a native of Youzhou, one of the Green Abyss World's newest Ten Great Masters.
She wore a single braid hanging in front of her, a breathtakingly beautiful sight—like two peaks confronting each other with a river flowing between them.
She had visited Crow Mountain not long ago for a sparring match. Back then, Old Zhu himself had brought her up the mountain.
Old Zhu asked, "Is she already free to roam the world?"
Lin Jiangxian said, "It seems the Dao Ancestor never really restricted her much in the past. There was probably a verbal agreement—hard to guess the specifics. But when I first arrived in the Green Abyss World, I carried my sword to her door and had a serious talk with her. We made a gentleman's agreement: as long as I didn't approve, she couldn't leave her cave heaven to wander freely around Youzhou. Later, when I felt the time was right, I had Qi Huajian pass her a message."
Old Zhu asked, "If I were to face... them alone?"
Lin Jiangxian said, "Still not quite enough."
Old Zhu said wryly, "I thought my cultivation realm was high enough. Senior Guan is the immovable fifth-strongest in the world, and I'm the nailed-on eleventh. Even if that ranking has a lot of water in it, it's still not low by any measure."
Lin Jiangxian spoke a strange phrase: "A person cannot control the length of their shadow."
Old Zhu sighed deeply. "Indeed. It truly has nothing to do with wealth or poverty."
Old Zhu began to lament. "No wonder, no wonder. It all adds up. I can't blame you for not warning me beforehand. I was the one bewitched by beauty, blinded by a fair face."
Gu Yan Ge's ancestors were all coroners. She loved to observe battlefield formations on the field of death, was skilled in the method of internal observation, and had deep knowledge of the human body's meridians.
Old Zhu suddenly said, "Master Lin? Are we...?"
Lin Jiangxian smiled. "Aren't we friends?"
When with the strong, observe their Dao. When journeying with the weak, protect their Dao. With those of the same path, discuss the Dao.
So what if the great night blankets the heavens? Fill the cups to the brim, call your friends and companions, and share a midnight feast.
---
The night-traveling ship docked at Treasure Vase Continent. The God of the Western Marchmount, Tong Wenchang, divine title: Great Banner.
At daybreak, outside an unremarkable Earth God temple, an old man sat on the steps, smacking his lips as he smoked a dry pipe. He wore hemp clothes and straw sandals.
An Earth God crouched beside him, repeatedly asking about last night's celestial phenomena. The silent old man smoking was so annoyed he finally said, "You're an Earth God. What business do you have with matters in the sky? Want to ascend to heaven?"
The Earth God huffed, his beard bristling. "Old Tong, if you keep being so sharp-tongued, watch out—I'll move to the Northern Marchmount tomorrow. See if anyone will chat with you then!"
The main hall of the Western Marchmount, housing the golden statue, was thick with incense smoke. Tong Wenchang often came here to relax. Hard to say who was keeping whom company.
Tong Wenchang said calmly, "Move to the Northern Marchmount? Have you got the money for that? With your meager savings, how many night-travel feasts can you afford?"
The Earth God grumbled, "Then lend me some."
Tong Wenchang couldn't be bothered to respond. He just glanced toward the western coast and said, "Go take shelter in the temple immediately."
The Earth God craned his neck, following Old Tong's gaze. "Who is it? Looking for trouble? Can't be."
Tong Wenchang said, "The Great Li National Teacher and his party."
The Earth God's face filled with shock. "Cui National Teacher?!"
Tong Wenchang said, "It's National Teacher Cui's junior disciple. Chen Ping'an has succeeded him as the next Great Li National Teacher. The court has kept it from the public—only a very few know. You've heard it, but don't spread it. If there's a leak, and the Emperor's wrath descends, I won't be able to bear the responsibility. I might even face charges for lax supervision. I'd have to borrow some travel money from you and roll up my mat to Beggar's Cloud Mountain for a meal."
The Earth God said timidly, "At least let me get a glimpse of the new National Teacher. I'll obediently hide behind you and not make a peep."
Reflections in water, landscapes in gazettes...
Tong Wenchang waved his pipe. "Go back now, and don't even think about sneaking a peek. The Great Li National Teacher is the Great Li National Teacher."
Seeing Tong Wenchang's grave expression, the Earth God dared not joke. He immediately used the Earth-Shortening technique and returned to his shrine's golden statue, absolutely not daring to spy on the outside. Old Tong was a mountain lord utterly devoid of official airs. When he repeatedly emphasized the title "National Teacher," the Earth God, seasoned in the mountain-water bureaucracy, understood clearly: Old Tong fully approved of Sword Immortal Chen's succession as Great Li National Teacher.
Figures descended one after another upon this place. A large group suddenly appeared, all buzzing with noise. Tong Wenchang put away his pipe and slowly rose. "National Teacher, who are these honored guests?"
Before Chen Ping'an could answer, Jiang She sneered, "Martial arts practitioners. Know a few flashy moves. Small-time drifters through the jianghu. No Dao names. By coincidence share a surname with Old Sect Master Jiang. A country bumpkin like me doesn't know proper etiquette. You, Mighty God, hold an exalted position. Don't think ill of me."
His tone was quite aggressive.
Tong Wenchang smiled, gripped his old pipe, and clasped his hands in salute. "I am Tong Wenchang of the Western Marchmount. Pleasure to meet you, Fellow Daoist Jiang."
Jiang She remained unmoved.
The woman immediately tugged at his sleeve. Jiang She kept a straight face. She tugged again, persistently. Only then did Jiang She reluctantly return the salute. "Honored."
Tong Wenchang paid it no mind. There were plenty of eccentric people in the mountains—you couldn't concern yourself with them all. Besides, wasn't he one himself?
Xie Gou raised her hand to cover her mouth, undercutting him. "Five Words, your man's been bottled up for years, saved up a lot of face. Gives a bit here, a bit there. Is there enough to go around? He treats it like our Right Protector's melon seeds from Desolate Mountain, huh?"
Five Words teased, "If face isn't enough, back in the day when someone was swinging him around by the face, wasn't it already blooming like a flower?"
Xie Gou said in feigned understanding, "Ah, no wonder. Quite similar to our Peak Master's experience in a certain place."
Jiang She's eyelids twitched slightly.
Chen Ping'an dismissed it with a smile.
---
Northern Julu Continent, Skeleton Beach. The Ghostly Valley's Sheep Intestine Palace sat in a remote location, the monastery of the Great Demon-Catching Immortal. Originally a modest three-courtyard compound, it had finally been expanded to five courts the previous year. The palace master, who always appeared as an old Daoist, had consulted the almanac, chosen an auspicious day, and had his disciples set off a few strings of firecrackers at the gate. He sent out gilded invitations to fellow mountain cultivators—none of them came to offer congratulations. His plan to recoup some investment had fallen through yet again. In the old days, Ghostly Valley, chaotic as it was, hadn't been entirely driven by greed. Now, times had changed, and people's hearts were no longer what they used to be.
By mid-morning, the Great Demon-Catching Immortal, who sported a goatee, walked with his hands clasped behind his back. He went by the alias Zhuo Chengxian. As for his Celestial Race true name, he had registered it with the Sack-Robe Sect a few years ago. In this little patch of land, people still liked to address him as "Old Immortal."
He strolled slowly to the entrance of Sheep Intestine Palace. Outside the gate, two fools: one stood motionless as a nail, hugging a wooden spear; the other lay on the ground enjoying himself, hands pillowing his head, crossed legs wagging as he sang bawdy tunes. The old palace master, self-styled Great Demon-Catching Immortal, took one look at this sight and immediately fumed. One was stupid, the other slick—neither had any promise! The entire Sheep Intestine Palace now had about a dozen so-called resident Daoists, all idle good-for-nothings who put in the least effort. Though to be fair, if they had bright prospects, they wouldn't be wasting their days at Sheep Intestine Palace.
His nominal disciples were just these two wastes at the gate. One had died inexplicably in the past, another was added later. For the Ghostly Valley of those days, it was a perfectly ordinary, unremarkable occurrence. The old immortal in his Daoist robe with his two wisps of beard stood just inside the threshold, silent, suppressing his anger. As a reclusive Daoist, he still had that much self-cultivation. After all, compared to his fellow cultivators at Jixiao Mountain, Tongguan Mountain, the Dissolving Falls Palace of the Summer-Avoiding Lady, and all those who had met their calamities and perished, body gone and Dao extinguished, his Sheep Intestine Palace's situation was still better. Not as good as the best but better than the worst—at least he still had a stable territory.
The tall spirit lying on the ground sunbathing said lazily, "Senior Brother, our Sheep Intestine Palace is a den of spirits. Why did the master have to take the Dao name 'Great Demon-Catching Immortal'? What was he thinking? Calling for the thief while being the thief yourself? If you ask me, the reason Sheep Intestine Palace's incense offerings are so poor is probably because the master chose the wrong Dao name."
The thin, bamboo-pole-like senior brother stood ramrod straight, looking flustered as he said, "Junior Brother, don't say such things about our master."
In the past, he had been the junior brother. Now he was the senior brother, though the one lying on the ground had never treated him as such.
The junior brother, leisurely swaying his legs, sneered. "Our Sheep Intestine Palace, really—each year's worse than the last."
The old immortal gave a soft cough, stepped across the threshold, squinted, and twirled his goatee with two fingers, speaking pedantically. "Have you noticed any suspicious individuals skulking around our monastery?"
The tall spirit who was the junior brother did a carp leap, flipped his wooden spear up with his toe, caught it in hand, and said without a trace of embarrassment, "Master, it was the senior brother's idea. He said our Sheep Intestine Palace is a fine quiet place for cultivation anyway. Since visitors aren't many anyway, we brothers might as well take turns resting and not miss anything important."
The thin rat spirit, not much better than a wooden spear, seemed about to speak but remained silent. Recalling his master's question, he answered obediently, "Reporting to Master, this disciple is diligent at his post. There has been nothing suspicious or noteworthy at the gate today."
The old immortal couldn't be bothered to look directly at the two poles. "Does he even have the brains to come up with a lazy scheme like that? If he did, I'd be lighting tall incense in the main hall."
The tall spirit bowed and scraped. "Master's penetrating eye."
The thin rat spirit remained silent.
The old immortal stood on the steps, frowning deeply, muttering to himself, "A storm is coming."
After a moment's thought, he sighed. "In any case, when the soldiers come, we block with shields; when the waters rise, we stem them with earth."
It turned out that a few years ago, the wealthy Skin-Fat City had taken a fancy to Sheep Intestine Palace's auspicious location, wanting to convert it into a private villa and build an immortal ferry dock there. The Great Demon-Catching Immortal had said the matter was closed, that he would never sell this ancestral property, but that was just a tactic to drive up the price. He wasn't unmoved. In the end, it was a matter of price—the offered sum fell short of his expectations by seven or eight Grain Rain Coins. And those were Grain Rain Coins!
With Gao Cheng no longer sitting in the seat of power, serving as the backbone to wrestle with the Sack-Robe Sect, the Sack-Robe Sect had lost all competition, and Ghostly Valley had completely changed.
Fortunately, the Sack-Robe Sect hadn't exterminated them all. Except for some vicious, bloodthirsty irredeemables, the rest were allowed to live. As for how they lived, that was up to each to manage.
That fierce woman Zhu Quan had finally stepped down as sect leader. Word was she'd recently gone traveling to another continent. A cause for celebration, truly a world-wide jubilation.
Big and small cities, peaks, sects, and monasteries—there were still forty or fifty in Ghostly Valley's territory. But living under someone else's roof meant everyone had to keep their tails between their legs. No more living as they pleased. Some, who knew how to make money, were fatter than ever. For instance, Fan Yunluo's Skin-Fat City was now growing ever more prosperous. In those days, at various banquets, Fan Yunluo would respectfully call him "Daoist Master Demon-Catcher" or "Old Palace Master" when she saw him. Now, any random menial from Skin-Fat City dared to holler, addressing him by his name outright.
The old palace master twirled his goatee with one hand, patted his belly with the other, and said with melancholy, "In this bland, peaceful age, my belly full of military stratagems is utterly useless. What a pity, what a tragedy—a hero with no place to apply his art."
The thin mouse spirit, for once perceptive, hurriedly sighed heavily.
The old immortal said dryly, "Overacting."
The mouse spirit smiled sheepishly.
These days, the old immortal couldn't help but wince whenever he remembered a certain incident. He had a secret chamber, its entrance beneath the incense table in Sheep Intestine Palace's main hall. But his most treasured possessions weren't immortal treasures—they were military texts. Back then, it wasn't like today. Collecting books that were commonplace outside was no easy task in Ghostly Valley. Most were relics from ruins. Other qi refiners would discard them like trash, but the Great Demon-Catching Immortal treasured them like precious jewels.
Even books were stolen! Even books! An outsider, driven by greed, utterly insane—a man who should be struck by a thousand bolts! Not even human!
Times were already lean. Then that thief came and cleaned him out, making things even worse. The Great Demon-Catching Immortal was utterly disheartened. Any thought of recruiting soldiers, gathering horses, accumulating armor and weapons, one day commanding a host of fierce generals with effortless precision—all of it was gone.
Glancing sideways at the mouse spirit, the old immortal habitually scolded him a few times. The latter just scratched his head and smiled, not daring to talk back.
The Great Demon-Catching Immortal had long known that this useless disciple often went to the market at Endurance Pass.
In the masterless lands beyond Sheep Intestine Palace's territory, he would gather mountain goods, medicinal herbs, and jade. Toiling for three to five months, he could barely fill one basket. Then he'd set off to the market to sell. In the beginning, each round trip netted about two or three Snowflake Coins. He never dared to hide any; he'd come back with the earnings to supplement Sheep Intestine Palace's oil lamp fund, saying it was a filial offering to his master.
Back then, Ghostly Valley was a chaotic mess, but none of the factions dared to act rashly, terrified of running afoul of the rules and being slaughtered by Sack-Robe Sect cultivators. Everyone behaved with extreme caution. The area around Sheep Intestine Palace was indeed still peaceful. But when the situation gradually stabilized, everyone started scheming to curry favor and carve up territory. The big fish ate the small fish, the small fish ate the shrimp—they just didn't kill each other openly. The underhanded methods were endless. For a place like Sheep Intestine Palace, which could only eat mud, stuck on their tiny patch of land, that little business of his suffered. He could only make a trip to the market once every six months. Even if Sheep Intestine Palace was so poor it couldn't open its pot, the master, the Great Demon-Catching Immortal, still looked down on those three coppers and two silver bits... "This great immortal is a cultivator—what use does he have for a few coins of silver? Disgraceful!" As long as that clumsy disciple didn't hide Snowflake Coins for himself, that was enough.
The mouse spirit dreamed every day of one day having a pouch full of secretly saved silver, walking north along the Swaying River, reaching those county towns lined with bookshops, and buying books! Then going home to read!
Basking in the warm sunlight, he secretly daydreamed of his next reunion with Sword Immortal Chen.
---
The group arrived at the gate of Desolate Mountain.
Xiao Mo, who had drifted aimlessly for ten thousand years, felt only one thing: he was home.
He remembered that moment back in the Lingxi City courtyard, after catching that sword beam.
When Xiao Mo turned to look.
At the doorway, on the steps, from left to right, the sword cultivators sat in a row.
Cui Dongshan leaned back, elbows on the ground, smiling brilliantly. Jiang Shangzhen nodded gently.
In the middle sat Xie Gou, grinning broadly.
Liu Xianyang gave a big thumbs-up. Chen Ping'an gently clapped his hands, his expression warm and tender.