Chapter 1200: Sending Charcoal in Snowy Weather
Sunrise and sunset both belonged to the mortal world.
Infinite golden light scattered down, the earth like a body draped in brocade robes.
Ning Yao had Xiao Mo and Xie Gou stay behind to continue monitoring the situation around the Great Li capital. After all, whether today would pass without incident couldn't be determined until deep into the night.
Returning to Luopo Mountain, Ning Yao first went to the Sword Worship Platform. There, she heard from Lu Zhi about Sun Chunwang's deeds. Ning Yao said nothing, just sat for a while in the thatched hut. She spoke little, only telling this future direct disciple to guard against arrogance and impatience and to train diligently in the sword. Sun Chunwang, already taciturn by nature, became even more of a little mute around Ning Yao.
Lu Zhi—perhaps because she had given away her natal flying sword—was noticeably less cold than before. There was a soft, human warmth about her now. Accompanying Ning Yao into Sun Chunwang's thatched hut, she sat on the edge of the bed, which was covered with a bamboo-woven mat and hung with gauze mosquito netting. She noticed that the little girl seemed to like the local porcelain; the room was filled with many exquisitely crafted celadon pieces. For instance, a plum-green narcissus basin sat on the table, beside a pile of books with leaves and flower petals—collected from who knows where—sticking out as makeshift bookmarks. On top of the books lay a powder-green bamboo celadon flute with ice-crackle pattern. Lu Zhi found it all quite amusing.
Ning Yao said that since her talent was good, she ought to strive to be the best among those at the same cultivation level. Whether she ultimately achieved it would depend on her own destiny and fate, but she couldn't even dare to think about it.
Sun Chunwang sat upright on the small bamboo chair against the wall, her small hands clenched into fists on her knees. She nodded vigorously.
Lu Zhi suppressed a smile. Being Ning Yao's first great disciple truly wasn't easy.
Perhaps afraid that Sun Chunwang had taken her words too seriously—fixating only on the word "first," her Dao heart too tightly wound, which could easily lead to mishaps in sword training—Ning Yao added another reminder: don't pursue breakthroughs too hastily; take each realm step by step, each step firm and solid... After saying this, Ning Yao fell silent. She really didn't know how to explain such cultivation principles and felt she might have been speaking nonsense. It would be better if he were here.
Sun Chunwang said, "I understand. It's the same principle as when Master Cao practices boxing: no step falls empty, each realm opens new horizons."
Ning Yao smiled. "What 'I understand'? It's 'I understand' properly."
Sun Chunwang pursed her lips. That little face was like a spring blossom bowing and rising in the mortal world.
Ning Yao said, "From now on, strive to become the sect master of the Dragon Elephant Sword Sect someday."
The earlier words had probably been spoken in imitation of his manner of reasoning. Now this was Ning Yao's own principle.
Sun Chunwang's eyes lit up.
Lu Zhi, now still the chief guest elder of the Dragon Elephant Sword Sect, rubbed her brow. The two of you really don't treat me as an outsider, do you.
Zhu Su had already requested to go build a thatched hut and go into secluded cultivation by the great lake. When cultivators choose a Dao field—whether it's opening a mountain to build a cave dwelling or a temporary retreat like Zhu Su's—whether they feel an immediate connection at first sight is very important. Mi Yu said the lake was called the Returning Sword Lake, an unclaimed place, and building a hut there shouldn't be a problem. But he still needed to inform Old Cook, telling Zhu Su to wait a moment while he went to Jiling Peak. Mi Yu quickly returned to the Sword Worship Platform and said there was no issue; Zhu Su could go ahead and build her hut and set up the mountain-water formation. The area around the hut would be temporarily designated as a restricted mountain and water zone, forbidding nearby Qi refiners and local mountain spirits and water monsters from trespassing. Zhu Lian would naturally report it to the Northern Peak Piyun Mountain and the local authorities—consider it a fait accompli. The exact boundaries of this restricted area could still be adjusted later. Mi Yu finally added with a smile that Old Cook had asked him to pass along a message to Sword Immortal Zhu Su: wishing her a smooth seclusion.
Mei Kan volunteered to go cultivate in a hut by Returning Sword Lake for a while. Mei Dandang had no choice but to follow. Zhu Su naturally had no objections; she was going into seclusion to earn the title of sword immortal. Mei Dandang had been in the Immortal realm for several years already—just because he had sparred with Xiao Mo and lost after receiving one sword strike didn't mean his Immortal realm was made of paper. Qi Tingji also said it was fine, as they could look out for each other.
As deputy sect master of the Dragon Elephant Sword Sect, Shao Yunyan went alone to Jiling Peak to meet his disciple, who held a high position in Luopo Mountain: Wei Wenlong, the God of Wealth.
Back in the Spring Breeze Pavilion on Daosuan Mountain, Wei Wenlong had never been very interested in cultivation and sword training. Now still at the Golden Core realm, he was overjoyed to see his master again. He always respected his teacher. But during their conversation, Wei Wenlong inevitably seemed restrained. When his master casually mentioned a topic, Wei the Accountant of Luopo Mountain would habitually mull it over in his mind for a long time before giving an answer. Shao Yunyan told his disciple not to be so nervous, but inwardly he was quite pleased.
His personal disciple was only at the Golden Core realm, yet he was the accountant of Luopo Mountain in the Haoran world and sat in one of the top seats of the Jise Peak Ancestral Hall. Could Shao Yunyan, as his master, not be proud?
Qi Tingji, Jin Gao, and several other private swordsmen strolled together along mountain paths beside nearby streams. Qi Tingji deliberately invited Xing Yun and Liu Shui of the Green Calm Sword Sect. They talked about old times back home. The sword cultivators' knowing laughter harmonized with the gurgling stream water like nature's own music.
At the Flower God Temple in the capital, after State Preceptor Chen Ping'an had left that elegant private residence, Qi Fang and Luo Fumeng and the others stayed to continue drinking tea. But in truth, more and more Flower Gods from various blessed lands were descending here, making it seem like an ancestral hall meeting relocated to a new venue.
The Flower Gods were all extremely supportive of creating a Hundred Flowers Conduit in Tongye Continent.
They spared no praise for the new Great Li State Preceptor. Qi Fang, of course, took Chen Ping'an's "cold water dousing"—which he had called "speaking frankly first"—and polished it a bit, but she absolutely did not dare omit it entirely. For instance, she skipped over the "year-end reckoning" matter. But Qi Fang also added some embellishments of her own, even more stern and severe than Chen Ping'an's original words. Fortunately, these blessed land Flower Gods all had very high destinies and often dealt with the outside world. They understood perfectly well a truth they had to thoroughly comprehend: working with the Great Li Dynasty in the future—whether within Great Li's own borders or along the two banks of the Tongye Continent's great conduit—would be completely different from dealing with the mountain dynasties and powerful states in the Central Continent Divine Land.
One mandate Flower God was in excellent spirits. She rubbed the head of the Balsam Flower God beside her and praised, "Truly a lucky general."
Wu Cai gave a thumbs up, paused for a moment, and when no one stopped her, laughed heartily and said, "Top-notch."
Nian Xin went to the Fire God Temple and then returned to the Flower God Temple. This seamstress brought back good news from Aunt Feng. Aunt Feng said that since State Preceptor Chen had no objections, she congratulated the Hundred Flowers Blessed Land on having its wishes fulfilled on both continents. From start to finish, Nian Xin never mentioned the matter of the colored rope knot—when or where to return it, she didn't bring it up at all. Qi Fang, as the Flower Master, didn't inquire about it either, so the other mandate Flower Gods and the Twelve Month Flower Gods naturally didn't dare speak up casually.
After Nian Xin left the Flower God Temple, Qi Fang was silent for a moment, then broke into a smile and said, "Do what you can and leave the rest to fate. Whether we return the object to its owner after fulfilling our first promise, or create a Hundred Flowers Conduit and then return the knot, we can wait. We've already waited so many years. Sisters, I beg you to be patient and trust State Preceptor Chen..."
Just then, between heaven and earth, it was as if a hundred flowers were blooming again in a second spring. Strange lights and colors illuminated the mortal world. All kinds of flowers manifested on the mountains and rivers like the Great Way itself—truly ten thousand beauties sharing one spring.
Each flower soul was a flower path. They came to the Flower God Temple in the Great Li capital and went to the Hundred Flowers Blessed Land in the Central Continent Divine Land, each seeking its own master.
Inside the Flower God Temple, Qi Fang led a group of high-ranking Flower Gods, their eyes glistening with tears, as they quickly walked out of the room and into the courtyard. They removed the illusion spell and performed a solemn curtsy. Using a secret blessed land heart-method, they each lit a stick of incense from their hearts and sincerely thanked that man.
The temple keeper, Ye Man, who had been guarding the side chamber all along, finally knew who they were at this moment.
She gathered her brocade collar and probably guessed who that distinguished guest who called himself Chen was.
---
On either side of the Thousand Step Corridor were Nanxun Ward and Kejia Alley. Though not forbidden grounds, ordinary capital residents never came here. Today, three Daoists walking along the road drew some attention.
One of them, an old Daoist, stopped a young official and asked how to get to the State Preceptor's residence. The official, who had been walking briskly, stopped and smiled as he gave directions.
The old Daoist thanked him and added, as flattery, "From your physiognomy, you're certainly destined for a smooth official career." Though the young man didn't believe such things, his smile grew wider—he took it as a good omen.
The young man hurried on his way again. He needed to go to the Ministry of Revenue to plead poverty. The last trick hadn't worked, so he'd thought up a new one.
The three Daoists visiting the State Preceptor's residence were: Liang Shuang, an outer-surnamed Celestial Master from Dragon Tiger Mountain; Yue Guofu, a Daoist who called himself Smelly Toon; and the young acolyte Huang Shang.
Smelly Toon only knew some basic ritual procedures. Within his own sect, however, he had a few disciples and grand-disciples who were skilled in physiognomy and fortune-telling.
Once they entered the back courtyard of the State Preceptor's residence, Liang Shuang saw Chen Ping'an waiting at the bottom of the steps. Since they were well acquainted, a formal bow wasn't necessary. Stroking his beard, the old true man smiled and said, "A floating leaf returns to the sea—where in life can one not meet again? Fellow Daoist Chen, we meet again."
Chen Ping'an clasped his hands and smiled back. "Where mountains repeat and waters wind, with no road in sight, a village appears in the shade of willows and bright flowers. Old True Man, congratulations, congratulations."
Liang Shuang sighed softly, emotions mixed. "Had it not been for Fellow Daoist's help, how could I, a poor Daoist, have fulfilled my wish?"
Chen Ping'an said, "Heaven helps those who restrain themselves."
Liang Shuang looked up at the sky and nodded with a smile. "Heaven's power is so great, it responds to the good heart of the mortal world."
Smelly Toon was still formulating his words, preparing his mental draft, when Liang Shuang laughed and said, "I won't keep you from your business. The main reason for this visit is that Smelly Toon has a gift for you. You two talk. I'll go explore the second courtyard. By the way, are there many rules here? Any taboos I should be aware of?"
Chen Ping'an smiled slightly. "Where the true man sets foot, nothing is forbidden."
Liang Shuang burst into laughter and pointed at this young state preceptor. "Fellow Daoist Chen, it's a shame you didn't go into officialdom in the Confucian Temple."
Liang Shuang walked toward the second courtyard. This was a "family matter" between the young Hidden Official and an old sword cultivator. The old true man felt he didn't have enough face to interfere.
Hearing about "giving a gift," Chen Ping'an wasn't too surprised. Since Smelly Toon, a man from the Sword Qi Great Wall, had come to the State Preceptor's residence, it couldn't be to accuse him of anything. Smelly Toon wasn't the type to socialize, so it had to be about "business."
On an island near the northern coast of Golden Armor Continent stood a rather oddly named place: the Slanted Seal Palace. About three hundred years ago, it had become a sect-level immortal mansion. However, the Slanted Seal Palace wasn't a top-tier power on Golden Armor Continent. Its foundation was ordinary, and it had never produced any particularly outstanding Upper Five Realm cultivators. From its founding to becoming a sect to the present day, it had only produced two Jade Purity Realm cultivators. The most talked-about thing was that the Slanted Seal Palace had made several "misses" in its history, letting slip several "sword immortals" who later proved to have excellent talent and fortune. These sword cultivators—including two mid-Five Realm sword cultivators who came with their skills, and a talented young sword cultivator who went out to sea seeking immortals—had originally favored the Slanted Seal Palace, which had a good reputation among the mountains, but all ended up elsewhere.
Rumor had it that the now-famous "Sword Immortal Xu Jun" of the Haoran world was that very youth, the one whose heart had been broken by the Slanted Seal Palace and who consequently lost all interest in becoming a registered disciple.
All because a founding ancestor had established an ironclad rule: no sword cultivators accepted.
Smelly Toon didn't use mind transmission. He said directly, "Hidden Official, I want to transfer the Slanted Seal Palace to Luopo Mountain and have all its cultivators change their registration."
After a hesitation, Smelly Toon forced himself to explain, "It's really not me copying the Dragon Elephant Sword Sect. This was exactly my intention when I came to Treasure Bottle Continent. The reason I didn't mention it at Village Makeup Ferry last time was that I genuinely didn't know how to bring it up properly."
Originally, the old man had been fairly confident. The Slanted Seal Palace was, after all, a sect-level school. But after witnessing this celebration firsthand, and hearing that Qi Tingji had given the entire Dragon Elephant Sword Sect—except himself—to Chen Ping'an, Smelly Toon felt like his Dao heart was about to shatter.
Chen Ping'an could infer from a series of clues that Smelly Toon had founded a Dao lineage. But the offer to hand over the entire sect to Luopo Mountain still greatly surprised him. After thinking it over, he politely declined: "Senior, I thank you for your kindness, but I cannot accept this. I have too many matters to handle and simply can't manage any more."
Smelly Toon said, "I understand completely. With your new identity and having just attained ascension, anyone would be too busy to attend to other things, wishing they could make wherever they stand their Dao field. But the people at Slanted Seal Palace aren't complicated. I've always ruled with an iron fist there. You don't even need to visit the palace yourself—it's completely unnecessary. Just send any Jade Purity Realm cultivator to act as the new sect master."
Chen Ping'an shook his head and smiled. "Still no."
Smelly Toon seemed about to speak, then thought better of it. He pulled two guiding talismans from his sleeve and handed them to Chen Ping'an. "Originally, I thought if the Slanted Seal Palace became a subsidiary sect of Luopo Mountain, I could shamelessly save these two guiding talismans. I got them from Old Celestial Master Liang. They're said to help the bearer cross over to an ancient broken cave heaven or blessed land, and the cave heaven and blessed land can be connected to each other. One counts as mine, one as Gao Mian's—nothing to do with the sect."
The old man touched the little acolyte's head, showing both reluctance and guilt. He said self-deprecatingly, "Money earned by selling a disciple—it's fine to give it away."
The little acolyte grimaced. So even his master knew he was selling his disciple.
Chen Ping'an took the two large talismans and said, "Senior and Chief Gao could actually visit the Sword Worship Platform at Luopo Mountain."
Smelly Toon shook his head. "I won't go. If the Hidden Official says nothing, we'll just imagine all sorts of things and feel unhappy. If I go see them, not only will my ears suffer, I might even get beaten up."
Smelly Toon transmitted his thoughts: "I also know a friend. She's different from us. Her real name is Zhou Song. She's also on Golden Armor Continent, a ghost immortal living in seclusion deep in the mountains. Her Dao name is 'Qingmiao,' and her Dao field is an ancient ruin called Mang Mountain. Almost no one on Golden Armor Continent knows of her existence. Wan Yanlaojing's betrayal—she predicted it long ago through divination. Xu Xie came to find me at Slanted Seal Palace to become my disciple before that, also at Zhou Song's covert direction. Xu Xie appeared on the Golden Armor Continent battlefield specifically to kill Wan Yanlaojing with his own hands. That was all Zhou Song's arrangement."
Chen Ping'an committed this to memory and nodded. "When I travel to Golden Armor Continent, I'll trouble Senior to guide me."
Smelly Toon clasped his fists. "If you ever change your mind, just send a flying sword message to the Slanted Seal Palace Ancestral Hall."
Chen Ping'an said nothing.
Far from feeling snubbed, Smelly Toon was instead somewhat melancholy. Back in his homeland, most sword cultivators had this kind of temperament.
The little acolyte Huang Shang had been standing beside Smelly Toon the whole time. He plucked up his courage and asked, "Mountain Lord Chen, is Gan Xing here?"
Earlier, at that old mountain god temple, he had met Gan Xing, and they'd quickly become friends. When they came down the mountain, his master had told him that the man and woman who arrived later—the man was a mountain lord, and the woman was the kind of sword immortal described in books of strange tales—were both extremely responsible people, a match made in heaven. The boy was confused and only half understood. A mountain lord probably meant a god who owned a mountain. The little acolyte wasn't unfamiliar with mountains. These years, carrying his huqin, he'd followed his master traveling far and wide, always walking through big mountains. His master was too old, so thin he seemed nothing but a bag of bones. His master had also said that some mountains were dead and some were alive, but living mountains might one day die, and dead mountains might one day come back to life.
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Gan Xing and his master have gone to my Luopo Mountain. You can drag your two masters there to visit your friend. They might agree."
Huang Shang's heart stirred, but after thinking it over, he decided against it. He was afraid that if he wasn't careful, his old master would abandon him and his new master would start to find him annoying.
Chen Ping'an saw Smelly Toon to the second courtyard. The latter smiled and said there was no need to see him further—the State Preceptor should stop here.
The old true man was standing in the shade of a pine tree, watching two young officials play Go. They stopped their game immediately upon hearing the gaunt Daoist's words, not daring to get up and return to their office, yet also unable to continue playing. After the distinguished guest left and the State Preceptor had turned back to the third courtyard, they exchanged a glance and decided to finish their game.
Leaving the State Preceptor's residence and walking a long way off, Huang Shang looked back at the magnificent building crouched on the ground like a giant spirit. He asked quietly, "Master, what is a state preceptor?"
Smelly Toon collected his thoughts and came back to himself. He explained softly, "If the ruler is mediocre, the state preceptor is the sovereign's teacher. If the ruler is wise, the state preceptor is the sovereign's friend."
Huang Shang was deeply envious and exclaimed in sincere admiration, "Such a high official! So impressive!"
The gaunt Daoist smiled. Actually, the first scholar to propose this view was the father of a friend.
That friend was named Meng Liang, styled Buguang. He liked to call himself A Liang—Liang meaning "good"—and he was a swordsman.
He remembered when they first became acquainted, traveling together through some mountains and rivers on Golden Armor Continent. Both understood the principle of not speaking deeply when newly acquainted. The old Daoist had said he had no master or backing on Golden Armor Continent, not even any Dao lineage. That slovenly, disheveled fellow only ever drank expensive wine, which easily made him flushed. When it came time to pay the bill, he'd get a glazed look and slur his words. But as soon as the old Daoist settled the account, the fellow would revive instantly, shrink his neck, shudder his shoulders, and become full of vigor again.
Once, he rarely spoke about his family background. He said his father was a Confucian scholar who had studied, taught, and written books his entire life—nothing but a bookish man his whole life.
He also sighed and said, "I can't teach or write books, but I'm actually a proper scholar too. No lie. I've always been generous and have never complained."
That bastard, after leaving the tavern, would spout high-sounding words while grimacing, complaining that the food was too salty or too bland, that the wine was probably watered down, and that the old brother had been ripped off.
Perhaps sensing the old Daoist's unfriendly gaze, the man who had burped from wine started showing off his learning, quoting from some obscure book or other.
"The mortal world—say it's big, it's not big; say it's small, it's not small. It's all the creation of yin and yang in the human heart. The age—say it's broad, it's not broad; say it's narrow, it's not narrow. Broadness and narrowness are both overturned in the wine cup, reversing heaven and earth."
Later, as they grew closer, the old Daoist accompanied him on a trip to Fuyao Continent. Now, in hindsight, he still regretted it.
The last time they drank together, heavy snow was falling outside the tavern. The man seemed truly drunk, shouting that he was going on a distant journey. The tavern keeper was a woman with lingering charms. The man raised his voice and said, "Day by day, month by month, learning brings accumulated brilliance to enlightenment. Fate is not easy—respect it, cherish it." The proprietress knew quality when she heard it and immediately regarded him with new respect. She asked this man, whose talent seemed completely opposite to his appearance, whether he had any official achievements.
Perhaps thin-skinned, the fellow looked embarrassed, stammered, and said he was a wandering swordsman of the jianghu.
Outside, it was freezing cold. After three rounds of wine, their hearts were warm. When they left the tavern, the heavy snow hadn't stopped. As they parted ways, as far as the eye could see, plum blossoms were blooming.
He said he was going to a very distant place to find someone with the character "xi" in their name, to see just how high their learning was and how hard they studied.
And to check if that family had any beautiful, gentle, virtuous, and still unmarried good girls.
The old Daoist teased him, what if such a good woman was already married.
A Liang adjusted his bamboo hat, wiped his mouth, and his eyes shone as he chuckled.
No longer slovenly, he told his friend to take care and walked alone into the wind and snow. The accumulated snow crunched beneath his feet. With his back to the old Daoist, the man raised his arm and made a fist in farewell.
Smelly Toon was overcome with sorrow.
Then the next day, the old Daoist happened to pass by a nearby street and heard a familiar voice from afar. He went to the tavern and found that bastard sitting with his back to the door, one foot on a bench, drinking and playing a finger-guessing game with the tavern keeper, who was laughing delightedly.
Past events were vivid, like flipping through a thin old book.
Walking along the Thousand Step Corridor, Smelly Toon was deeply puzzled.
Hadn't there been a saying from his homeland in recent years?
Something about looking from far away and looking from close up?
Having met the young Hidden Official, he didn't seem like it either.
---
In the back courtyard of the State Preceptor's Residence, the girl in the marten-hat stood with her hands on her hips, looking up at the very tall Song Yunjian, and the even taller peach tree. Just moments ago, the blossoms had suddenly burst into splendor.
Xiao Mo sat on the steps, his traveling staff laid horizontally across his knees.
Chen Ping'an was in Lin Shouyi's room, chatting with Cao Qinglang about some "family study heart-methods." These didn't involve the principles of sages but rather tips on how to interact with scholars. For instance, if you were going to visit an elderly scholar with many works to his name and didn't know much about him beforehand, you should carefully read some of his books the night before so you'd have something to talk about the next day.
Chen Ping'an put down a booklet. It was an anthology of poems on the character "snow" that Lin Shouyi had compiled in his spare time, complete with some annotations and critical comments. "Not as good as Old Cook."
Lin Shouyi smiled. "How do you compare?"
Chen Ping'an stood up and asked, "I'm going to find a stall and mooch a bowl of wontons. Want to come along?"
Lin Shouyi, always gentle and refined, said, "I don't sit at the same table as a waste."
Leaving the room, Chen Ping'an walked slowly along the covered corridor where he could hear the rustling of brush tips on paper. Inside the rooms, young officials busy with their work continued their tasks.
Actually, Chen Ping'an didn't particularly like snow in winter. Just like back when he had brought Pei Qian and passed through the capital of the Great Spring Dynasty, viewing the Mirage City from a mountaintop. It had truly been a beautiful sight, like a glazed fairyland. The mountain and the city had been just a short distance apart, but Chen Ping'an hadn't gone to visit. It wasn't just about drawing a clear line between himself and Yao Jinzhi. It was also because, deep down, he had always been afraid of heavy snow. Even after he started training in boxing and learning the sword, as his realm grew higher and higher, he would still feel some indescribably complex emotions whenever the season of heavy snowfall arrived.
A kingdom fears great drought; a poor man fears snowy days.
At a roadside breakfast stall, the man sat down, ordered a bowl of wontons and a meat pie with preserved vegetables, and began eating slowly. Amid the coming and going of people on the street, he would pay attention to men's boots and women's accessories.
The stall owner had no idea that this unremarkable customer was one of the wealthiest men in the Great Li Dynasty.
Dong Shuijing looked up, somewhat surprised. An unexpected guest indeed. He put down his chopsticks and smiled. "What brings you here?"
The visitor was Chen Ping'an, using a layer of illusion magic. He pulled a pair of chopsticks from the bamboo tube on the table and ordered a bowl of celery wontons.
Dong Shuijing said, "Congratulations."
Chen Ping'an nodded and smiled. "So formal. You came all the way to the State Preceptor's Residence but didn't even enter the gate. What, are you worried that if I've become an official, our paths will diverge?"
Dong Shuijing hesitated for a moment, then said, "Times have changed. I have to be a bit careful to avoid suspicion."
Mr. Xu, who had led him onto the path of the credit-sword, once said: Money and power—if both parties can remain pure, they can be like moral gentlemen and chaste widows. But once they get entangled, it's like dry wood meeting fire—nothing but lechery and theft.
Dong Shuijing said bluntly, "My business these days doesn't really need to rely on the State Preceptor's influence anymore."
Chen Ping'an wasn't bothered. "That's the right principle, but it's not good to grow distant just to avoid suspicion, is it?"
Dong Shuijing said, "I'm just being a bit careful here in the Great Li capital. Elsewhere, things will remain as they always were. We won't drift apart."
Chen Ping'an smiled and asked, "You're being formal with me, but I won't stand on ceremony. Let me ask you: between Mr. Fan and the Wealth God Liu, which one do you, Dong Half-the-City, consider your imaginary rival?"
When it came to making money, Chen Ping'an rarely felt inferior to anyone his age, but Dong Shuijing was one of those rare exceptions.
Making money relies on both instinct and intuition. What trade in the world doesn't require the founder to bestow a meal ticket?
Dong Shuijing obviously had his answer ready. "I don't want to learn from Mr. Fan and become a founding patriarch, nor do I have the ambition of Wealth God Liu to build up a family clan. I make money just to make money. I enjoy the process. I keep track of how much I've earned. I've always thought that one day, my ledger will only have enough left to buy a few bowls of wontons. I'll take from heaven and earth and return it to heaven and earth."
Chen Ping'an chewed loudly on his pie and mumbled, "That kind of talk just begs for a beating. Who would believe it?"
Dong Shuijing smiled. "I've never said such intimate things to anyone before. Others might not believe it, but you will."
Chen Ping'an asked, "Still reading?"
Dong Shuijing nodded. "Of course. But mostly miscellaneous books, not involving classics or doctrinal principles."
Chen Ping'an urged, "For others, it's fine—reading or not, what you read is always a matter of interest. You're different. Big money either needs to be matched with great virtue, or at least with strong skill. You should read more. Back then, I always wondered why, whenever I asked my master about scholarly matters, offering my own insights, he would listen patiently and then always say 'good,' or 'very good,' or 'excellent.'"
Dong Shuijing's expression turned strange.
Chen Ping'an laughed. "Whatever you're thinking now is exactly what I was thinking back then. So later, one day on the city wall, while practicing my sword, I asked Senior Brother Zuo and found out the reason. It turns out that when my master felt that reading had yielded something—whether it was doubt, thought, or insight—that was genuinely good. He wasn't just humoring me, and it wasn't because I was his last disciple that he said 'good.' Moreover, my master had seen many people and experienced many things. His breadth of mind wasn't just broadened by reading; it was also forcibly expanded by all the matters of the mortal world."
Dong Shuijing was silent.
Chen Ping'an picked up a wonton with his chopsticks, chewed slowly, and said unhurriedly, "To do scholarship, you need not only painstaking effort and the ability to endure loneliness, but also a murderous momentum—like encountering an enemy in a narrow alley, meeting face to face, striking at the throat, drawing blood without fail, and only then putting away your hand."
"On a travelogue on the desk in the State Preceptor's Residence, I saw a reading insight written in Senior Brother Cui's own hand."
"'Scholarship must have killing intent; reading must have a finishing move. Good books, ordinary books—kill them all. Sages and heroes in books, villains and traitors—all behead.'"
A man who had never attended a single day of school was sitting at a roadside stall eating wontons with a man who had decided from childhood to make a lot of money, discussing the art of scholarship.
Dong Shuijing looked deeply at the man of the same age across the table. "Do you have insights of your own?"
Chen Ping'an raised his hand to call the stall owner, handed over his empty bowl, and ordered another bowl of wontons. He smiled. "Yes, how could I not? I figured out a clumsy method. Back in the Heart-Lake Book Tower, I had already accumulated over a million excerpts... but unfortunately, they're all gone. It doesn't matter—I'll just start over. In short, first win through quantity, then strive for refinement, and take it slow. The Confucian classics, histories, masters, and collections; the Daoist three caverns and four auxiliaries—I'm not bragging, but over the years I've thoroughly studied specialized works on catalogs, editions, and documents. My approach naturally leans more toward textual research than original insight, more transcription than summarization. There's a saying about describing a grand temple: 'ride a horse through the gate and close the mountain door.' The first time I encountered this saying, I was immediately awed. Later, I came across a Buddhist allusion about the dragon palace's library in another book, which was even more extraordinary. So my method of reading, my exclusive heart-method, is actually very simple: at a certain moment, achieve the literal meaning of 'having finished reading all the books.' Heh, that's the advantage of cultivation."
Dong Shuijing nodded. "I've heard old people say before: the money we earn in this life is what we saved up in our past lives, and the blessings or calamities of our next life are the merits or faults of this life."
After leaving his hometown, Dong Shuijing had also heard similar reasoning—that the wisdom of this body and this life was the "family wealth" we had accumulated life after life.
Dong Shuijing pondered for a moment. "Occasionally—only occasionally—I do somewhat regret not continuing my studies back then, wondering if it might have been better to go with you all to the Cliff Academy."
Back then, he and Jia Chun had both given up that journey, which was bound to be fraught with danger, and had since taken completely different paths from Li Baoping, Lin Shouyi, and the others.
He couldn't imagine that Li Huai, who used to doze off as soon as he started reciting and would bounce back to life as soon as class was over, had actually become a proper academy worthy.
Dong Shuijing said self-deprecatingly, "To be honest, I never thought I'd actually become a wealthy land baron with a fortune to match. Everyone has their own fate. We've all been very lucky."
Chen Ping'an was silent for a long time, then said softly with a smile, "It doesn't matter. Learning is found both within books and beyond them."
Dong Shuijing was taken aback.
Chen Ping'an said, "Actually, it was Mr. Qi who said that. I'm just quoting him."
Dong Shuijing smiled. "That sounds like him."
Just as it was hard for Dong Shuijing and the others to call him "Little Martial Uncle,"
it was also hard for Chen Ping'an to call out "Senior Brother Qi."
In the distance, next to a stall selling rouge and powder, Gu Can asked, "Why not go over and mooch a meal?"
Liu Xianyang laughed. "Although we're from the same hometown and have a decent relationship, we're not walking the same path after all."
One was too good at making money, always afraid he wouldn't have enough to eat tomorrow; the other was too good at spending money, always believing he'd never go hungry tomorrow.
Though Liu Xianyang was slightly older than Dong Shuijing, they had both studied together in Mr. Qi's school, so they could be considered partial classmates.
Gu Can said, "In plain terms, you think your skill at making money isn't as good as his, so you don't have the face to sidle up to Dong Half-the-City."
Liu Xianyang nodded. "Dong Shuijing's talent for making money is exactly like my talent for sword training—inexplicable, beyond reason."
It had to be said, our hometown really does produce talented people.
Gu Can said, "You, on the surface always laughing and joking, actually have a stronger competitive heart than anyone. You're not petty—you're willing to teach Chen Ping'an everything. But once he became better than you, you were afraid of losing, so you simply stopped touching that discipline altogether."
Liu Xianyang nodded. "Yeah, I've got that bad habit. I humbly accept the criticism and resolutely refuse to change."
Gu Can said, "Then why do you still train in the sword?"
Liu Xianyang had no choice but to pull out his trump card. "Don't make me have Chen Ping'an scold you."
Gu Can curled his lip.
The stall owner was a young woman with a pretty face. She said to the tall man, "Esteemed customer, if you're not buying anything, please move along. You've been blocking my business for a while now."
Liu Xianyang had to step aside. Gu Can followed him, but then the girl laughed and said, "Little brother, I wasn't talking to you."
Dong Half-the-City, who thought he had seen through the word "fame" in this life but could never see through the word "money," walked as if on a road of rolling wealth.
A voice rang out in the lake of his heart: "Dong Shuijing, earn some more money. When the Five Colors World opens its gates again, let's go into business together. I'll still be the second shopkeeper."
Dong Shuijing stopped and turned around. He smiled and said, "Good!"
Chen Ping'an walked over to Liu Xianyang and Gu Can, and they began wandering aimlessly together.
By coincidence, a young woman with a cold expression walked out from a street corner, and they bumped into each other.
After years apart, seeing Wang Zhu again prompted no further flights of fancy. Liu Xianyang's expression was relaxed. He clasped his fists and smiled, "Miss Zhigui, long time no see. I've missed you."
Wang Zhu held out her hand. "I heard you're having a wedding. Let's see the invitation."
Liu Xianyang laughed heartily. "No need for an invitation, and no need for a gift. If my Dao partner and I ever pass by the East Sea Water Mansion, it'll be enough that you give us face."
Wang Zhu smiled. "Still all about face, just like always."
Gu Can muttered from the side, "Meeting a fellow villager in a strange land, tears streaming down. And one you were once betrothed to, no less. Even if fate didn't allow you to end up together, you should at least hug and cry about it."
Wang Zhu said with a smile, "Back then, the ground in Mud Vase Alley was only relatively clean thanks to some snot-nosed brat whose filthy mouth never changed."
Gu Can feigned sudden realization. "We had a deal, remember? In Mud Vase Alley, the dog shit was mine and the chicken shit was yours. But there was someone who always liked taking advantage, insisting on getting more than her share."
Wang Zhu pretended to think for a moment, then smiled. "I remember one summer, for over ten days straight, someone sat with his butt in the air by the field under the blazing sun, but couldn't catch that eel. Wasn't that fun?"
Gu Can said, "Oh, that eel that kept poking its head out? I named it Song Jixin. It was a bit sneaky, I'll give you that."
Liu Xianyang quickly coughed. Wang Zhu glared at Gu Can.
Chen Ping'an said nothing throughout.
He was far too accustomed to this kind of verbal sparring. It wasn't nearly enough to cause a real falling out.
Liu Xianyang raised his arm and waved, exclaiming in wonder, "What kind of day is this? Meeting one noble person after another as soon as we step out. Song Banchai, over here!"
When the prince Song Mu approached, Gu Can twitched the corner of his mouth. "Heh, you're actually presentable. Playing the incognito inspector from the operas, eh? Conducting a secret visit to observe the people's hardships? Do you even know how much a meat bun costs?"
Song Jixin looked sideways at Gu Can and smiled. "I checked the almanac before leaving home. Today is not a good day for beating a son."
Gu Can asked, "When are you going to kick the bucket? I'd like to inherit the family business."
Liu Xianyang laughed loudly.
Song Jixin reminded him, "Hey, Liu, you're the only one here who's not from Mud Vase Alley."
Liu Xianyang grinned. "When are you and Miss Zhigui going to have your wedding drink? I've already set aside a gift."
Gu Can sneered. "You two were once brothers in suffering, both forced to swallow bitter medicine in silence. Don't point fingers at each other."
Wang Zhu blinked. "How do you figure?"
Chen Ping'an said, "We've finally gathered together. Do me a favor and say fewer strange remarks."
Song Jixin clicked his tongue. Liu Xianyang spat. Wang Zhu said, "Oh." Gu Can chuckled.
The way of scholarship: set your will on learning. Learning and inquiry—first learn, then ask; then learn and ask again. Like a flowing river, a hundred streams surging endlessly.
State Preceptor Chen Ping'an, Sword Immortal Liu Xianyang, Sect Master Gu Can, Prince Song Jixin, Water Lord Wang Zhu.
They walked together on a broad street that was less bustling than before, but still very long.