Chapter 28: At Sea
As the Old Temple Master's footsteps increased, new peach blossoms bloomed one after another.
Song Yunjian was shocked beyond measure—the number had already approached eight hundred.
The Old Temple Master had taken a leisurely trip to the Great Li capital, and this peach tree had newly bloomed nearly two hundred flowers.
Song Yunjian squinted and smiled, reciting a pleasant poem to himself: "In future years, it will bear fruit that lasts a millennium; Heaven's artisan demonstrates the work of creation."
The peach tree was full of blossoms. The handsome Daoist in a golden crown and jade robe, wearing a pair of cloud-treading shoes, his face and the peach blossoms complementing each other in red—truly a beautiful painting.
A sneering laugh sounded beside him, "Daoist Yingning, you really dare to think. A dynasty with a national mandate lasting a thousand years—that would be the Azure Firmament World. What, thanks to the Hidden Officer's good fortune, the entire city ascended, and now you've returned home to become State Preceptor, and now you want chickens and dogs to ascend together, the whole nation to rise, and relocate to the Azure Firmament World?"
Song Yunjian, upon hearing this, hurriedly turned sideways and performed a bowing salute to the Old Temple Master, saying shamefacedly, "This junior got carried away."
The Old Temple Master's sarcasm grew even heavier, "Carried away about what? Lost in what? Do you think you're Lu Laosan who has shed his mortal form?"
Song Yunjian didn't know how to answer, so he wisely shut his mouth.
The Old Temple Master said, "Cherish your Dao body and uphold your spirit."
Song Yunjian was overjoyed, "This junior will definitely keep that in mind."
The Old Temple Master glanced sideways.
Song Yunjian added, "I will also relay it to State Preceptor Chen."
The Old Temple Master sighed. An unenlightened thing. Talking was really exhausting.
Song Yunjian didn't know where he had spoken wrong, so he had to shut up to avoid saying more and making more mistakes.
The Old Temple Master turned his attention to the neighboring courtyard and said, "Sword cultivators are indeed remarkable, each one more hasty and careless than the last. Not as good as a young girl learning martial arts in maintaining inner peace."
Song Yunjian dared not and should not respond, since what was being criticized was Zhu Su and Yuan Huajing, and what was being praised was the State Preceptor's senior disciple, Pei Qian.
The Old Temple Master said, "Zhu Su, Yuan Huajing, no need to guess blindly. Come over and have a talk."
Zhu Su and Yuan Huajing immediately came over to the peach tree.
The old Daoist deliberately left the higher-realm female sword immortal waiting, fixed his gaze on Yuan Huajing, squinted, and asked, "Young man, why did you say the word 'natural'?"
Song Yunjian immediately became worried for this Sword Immortal Yuan.
Yuan Huajing, however, was not as fearful as Song Yunjian. As a sword cultivator, he replied, "Indeed, Senior Bixiao's great Dao aligns with the three kalpas, but in this junior's view, it still cannot escape the great mold of Dao being natural."
The Old Temple Master laughed, "You sound just like Old Scholar."
A similar tone, but a gap of a hundred thousand miles in shallow insight.
Yuan Huajing blushed.
The Old Temple Master put his hands behind his back, looked up at the peach tree full of blossoms. The Embroidered Tiger had finally won a foundation of peaceful times for the human world.
Since that was the case, this impoverished Daoist had to acknowledge the debt. There was no need for that crafty fellow to beat around the bush and later persuade him through Xiao Mo to make this trip.
He still remembered when Old Scholar had brought his leading disciple Cui Chan, sneaking a visit to the Temple of Contemplation. On the surface, they didn't discuss any great human affairs or world trends, just chatted randomly, built connections, got familiar, and incidentally drank good wine, praising the excellence of his own students.
Yuan Huajing asked a question that interrupted the Old Daoist's thoughts, the one he was most curious about, "Senior Bixiao, is the gap between the old fourteen and the new fourteen truly as vast as clouds and mud?"
The Old Temple Master said cheerfully, "Among the new fourteen, you can still pick out one or two generals from the short ones. Among the old fourteen, there are also some soft persimmons and donkey-dung eggs."
In short, it's because this impoverished Daoist is strong enough.
Yuan Huajing understood.
The Old Temple Master walked around the peach tree once, then turned his head to look at Cui Chan's study. It was a pity that he was either unwilling or scorned to open his heart to the world, and the human world had lost so many bold declarations that could all have been fulfilled one by one.
Song Yunjian was surprised to find that no more peach blossoms had bloomed.
The Old Temple Master glanced sideways at this Daoist friend Yingning, and Song Yunjian immediately settled his state of mind.
The Old Temple Master looked at the white-bone puppet behind Yuan Huajing, shook his wrist, and a white whisk with a gilded long handle appeared out of thin air. He gently flicked it toward the Dharma body relic of the Three Academies' Dharma Lord.
In an instant, white bones grew flesh, and the Three Academies' Dharma Lord regained the human appearance he had before the heavenly tribulation of ancient times, turning decay into magic.
The young-looking Daoist had clear eyes and a rich Dao aura. It would have been no problem to say that the White Bone Daoist had reappeared in the world using an ancient secret method.
Yuan Huajing was horrified to discover that the White Bone Daoist's Dao power had instantly surged by thirty percent.
The Old Temple Master instructed, "Yuan Huajing, do not disgrace an ancient Daoist who had reached the fourteen."
Yuan Huajing said solemnly, "This junior will never treat him merely as a puppet or regard him as such."
The Old Temple Master raised his whisk, pointed at the White Bone Daoist, and warned Yuan Huajing, "This impoverished Daoist has left a seed of true spirit within him. If it can blossom and bear fruit in the future, it will be the reincarnation of the Three Academies' Dharma Lord. At the shortest, three or five hundred years; at the longest, an endless period, until this Dao body completely decays, it may never break through the soil and see the light. But if it succeeds, I believe that by then, Yuan Huajing's Dao power will not be weak, so there will be no need to rely on the White Bone Daoist for protection on the path of ascension. Otherwise, if the sword heart remains attached to things for too long, it will not be a good thing, and you will not break the great bottleneck."
The thing called "memory" is wonderfully ineffable. In the past ten thousand years, the number of seekers who could trace back to the source of this matter could be counted on one's fingers.
Yuan Huajing followed his true heart and promised, "Senior, rest assured. If the White Bone Daoist can truly manifest a spark of spiritual light, I will respect him as a transmitter of the Dao and a guardian of the Dao, and I will take the initiative to dissolve the contract, restore his freedom, and spare no effort to help him cultivate the great Dao anew."
The Old Temple Master stroked his beard and praised, "Being able to form good karmic ties is a great skill. If you can turn bad karmic ties into good ones, you are a true hero."
Yuan Huajing felt both honored and fearful. Could this be the senior's ironic words?
Since he had called over the sword cultivator Zhu Su, the Old Temple Master tossed her a Daoist scripture, "This is a manual by Daoist Friend Yun Shen from the Wilderness. He has considerable insights into the threefold resonance, which will be beneficial for your sword refinement. Study it word by word and ponder carefully. Do not let it pass lightly."
Zhu Su took the scripture with both hands. For the first time in Haoran, she formed a simple sword seal from her homeland with an outsider, without any verbal thanks.
The Old Daoist nodded, formed an ancient Daoist seal in return, and then continued, "You also carry a message to Chen Ping'an. Tell him not to forget one thing. When he reaches the Wilderness in the future, he must help Master Yan achieve liberation through tribulation. Do not delay beyond sixty years at the latest. If it's late, Master Yan will fail to merge with the Dao and fall into an inescapable doom. When that happens, this impoverished Daoist will settle the account with Chen Ping'an."
"Today, this impoverished Daoist could make the peach tree bloom two hundred more flowers. In the future, I could also make every page of this scripture of yours have a peach blossom as a bookmark."
What could Zhu Su have to do with such Dao agreements that seemed like gods fighting? She could only agree.
The Old Daoist thought for a moment, then instructed, "Zhu Su, remind him again. Regarding Master Sanshan Jiuhou's 'basket' character, he once had a lame excuse, thick-skinned as he was, claiming he couldn't learn it. Now there is no more excuse."
Zhu Su nodded, silently memorizing every word the Old Temple Master said.
The Old Temple Master looked at them and said, "Those who study the Dao should not always complain about heaven and blame others. You must know that there is no good or evil in heaven, but there is cause and effect in the human world. This cause and effect is chaotic, seemingly intricate and tangled like a mess of hemp. Practitioners of the Dao might consider changing their thoughts. Take a single matter, a single thing, a single self as the thread end. With perseverance and great determination, follow the vine to find the melon all the way. Those who see a clear vein see themselves, see the heart, see the Dao. If one says heaven and earth are already like this, one must always put in painstaking effort, slowly achieving results."
Song Yunjian and the other two all humbly received the teaching, each gaining some insight, and sincerely performed a bowing salute to the Old Temple Master.
The Old Temple Master said, "Practitioners of the Dao should frequently exchange Dao methods with each other, be willing to open their hearts, dare to be honest and open with each other. That is better than blindly working behind closed doors."
He hesitated for a moment, then said, "If you have the chance, talk more with Chen Ping'an. This kid has many ideas and a broad mind. Chatting with him will always leave you gaining more."
After that, Yuan Huajing left with the "White Bone Daoist," who seemed to have come to life. If Zhu Su didn't have to escort the Great Li Emperor the next day, she would have wanted to immediately return to the thatched cottage on Yellow Lake Mountain to go into seclusion and properly sort out her Dao heart.
The Old Daoist stood under the peach tree.
Seeing that Song Yunjian was still holding the tobacco pipe, the Old Temple Master asked with a smile, "Dragon and serpent kinds are fond of clouds and mists, so you prefer this?"
Song Yunjian said with an awkward expression, "The State Preceptor has not yet returned from the sea. I was afraid of missing something, so I had to keep holding it."
The Old Temple Master chuckled, "Good errand runner."
Song Yunjian said bitterly, "It's always that the petty man makes his heart petty, and the great man makes his heart great. Those in their positions have their duties."
The Old Temple Master nodded, "That makes some sense."
Song Yunjian felt that chatting casually with Senior Bixiao was truly exhausting for both heart and spirit. It seemed to consume more Dao power than a practitioner's seclusion.
The Old Temple Master didn't mind Song Yunjian's current insights and perspectives. As long as one was sincere enough, after being tempered by various matters in the future, today's partial interpretations would have a chance to turn into correct views.
For example, Old Scholar had great skill in speaking. He always seemed to find something "good" in everything.
This made people mistakenly think he was the one who advocated "human nature is inherently good" in that "Controversy of the Three and Four."
This study was complicated, complex, a tangled mess. If one did it wrong, why feel it was futile? Later scholars would just know not to take that path.
That thing was difficult, harder than ascending to heaven. But if we succeeded, wouldn't it make us even more impressive? If so, why not do it?!
And at that time, beside Old Scholar was a black-robed youth who excelled at scholarship, chess... actually, he excelled at everything. He had a face as fair as jade, spoke little, had a gentle demeanor, but his eyes were extremely sharp.
Listening to his teacher and the Old Daoist chatting idly, in the East Sea Temple of Contemplation in someone else's territory, the guest seemed to silently question the host on one thing.
A fourteen-realm cultivator, not doing anything? What, with great Dao age, one is a senior? With high realm, one counts as a teacher?
The young Cui Chan was truly arrogant beyond measure.
Come, convince me with your reasoning, prove that I am wrong!
Such a proud person.
The Old Temple Master turned his head again and looked at the newcomer's new study in the opposite wing.
Don't let the painstaking efforts of his century-long heart's blood go to waste.
Build a high tower from flat ground. The foundation has already been laid. As for the so-called mess of the Great Li officialdom's human hearts, how bad could it be? On the official road outside the Great Li capital before, the examination candidates' reading voices in the rain, the poetry exchanges between men and women, young and old after the rain—weren't those also the people's hearts of your Great Li? Wasn't that also an invisible, ingenious, and meticulous master craftsmanship of mending broken hairpins? The rules for governing people are concrete—which dynasty in the nine provinces of Haoran has lacked them? The rules for governing people's hearts—the Great Li court and public also have them now. As State Preceptor, you must see this.
Chen Ping'an, you only need to build high peaks on this foundation, the more the better, erect thousands of ten-thousand-ren mountains.
Whether using the thunderous methods of Vajra's wrath to govern the Great Li's Earthly Branch cultivators, or using the slow simmering technique of gentle fire to gradually guide the Eternal Spring Palace and the registered cultivators, both are correct. Not targeting Zhengyang Mountain just because you became the State Preceptor of the Song Dynasty, and even secretly hoping that a sword cultivator from Zhengyang Mountain in the future would push down that boundary marker—even better.
If Chen Ping'an didn't have this intention, why would he come to the Great Li capital for a "stroll"?
People only know the saying, "Since leaving the cave, I have met no equal; where I can spare someone, I will not spare them." But they don't know that this impoverished Daoist, after leaving the Fallen Treasure Beach's Bixiao Cave, when meeting on the road, why would I spare you? Why would I block you?!
This impoverished Daoist wishes nothing more than for every person in this human world to be like a dragon. Anyone, half-asleep and barely awake, gets out of bed, walks out the door, and looks around to find the streets full of sages and heroes.
Just then, the Old Temple Master, holding his whisk, turned to look. It wasn't that timid little coward sneaking out of the State Preceptor's residence, acting like a thief, just like when she was a child. So the one who arrived here was not Pei Qian, who should have been "chatting with a fellow townsman," but Rong Yu.
The Old Temple Master asked with a smile, "Understanding?"
Rong Yu replied, "Generally understand, but not necessarily truly comprehend."
The Old Temple Master smiled and said, "He really is willing to tell you everything."
Rong Yu said, also for the first time revealing her feelings to someone, "I'm afraid I won't do it well, that I'll end up with a dog's tail attached to a sable."
The Old Temple Master comforted her, "Everything is difficult at the start. Having this intention is already a good start."
He raised his whisk and pointed at the coiled dragon pillar in the main hall corridor of the neighboring courtyard, "It doesn't mean you can't dot the eyes on the painted dragon."
---
The vast blue waves stretched out, the sea surface like a mirror.
Only a tall wall behind the blue-robed figure, still slowly rising, appeared somewhat abrupt.
Two peers, Second of Second, Fifth of Fifth.
Cao Ci drifted down onto the water surface, lightly hooked his toe back, and the towering water wall behind Chen Ping'an, built up layer upon layer, was ripped apart and collapsed with a crash.
Probably because the two of them were too familiar with each other, there were no polite greetings.
They were in tune with each other; just a meeting of eyes reached an agreement. Whoever broke through the "mirror surface" and fell into the sea would lose. How about that? Settled!
Each charged forward, colliding toward the other. Their abundant fist intents were both extremely condensed, so there was no dramatic scene of parting the waves. It was like stretching out a streak of green light and a white rainbow above the sea, facing each other, head-on.
The two straight lines crashed together. On the first punch, Chen Ping'an used the Divine Man Beats Drum style, stacking seventy-two punches within his body.
Cao Ci did not dodge or avoid. He directly pressed his palm against Chen Ping'an's left fist. Instantly, the patterns on his entire white sleeve rippled like sea waves. The bones and joints of his arm trembled section by section, his blood energy surged violently. He used a mouthful of pure true qi to confront the vast fist force that Chen Ping'an had seeped into his palm and wrist, "sticking" to it like two main armies locked in a stalemate.
Without using the flashy supernatural powers of the White Bone Daoist, Cao Ci simply used his overwhelmingly thick fist force to forcibly repel Chen Ping'an's surging fist intent, causing the tide to flow backward. Each of them endured thirty-six punches from the Divine Man Beats Drum style. With the two as the center, the sea waves rippled, spreading outward in rings. If a Daoist were to look down from above, the sea at this moment would truly have the beauty of mural patterns.
At the same time, Cao Ci pressed one hand against Chen Ping'an's face and shoved hard, sending Chen Ping'an flying back over a hundred zhang. He skimmed across the water surface more than a dozen times with his back, like a piece of bluestone skipping across the water.
Cao Ci lightly patted the sea surface with one palm, flipped over, and stood gracefully. Chen Ping'an felt a burning sensation all over his back.
Sure enough, exchanging punches with Cao Ci was the purest way.
Cao Ci shook his wrist. The muscles at his tiger's mouth were torn, and blood seeped out.
Chen Ping'an reached out to press his shoulder, shook his arm, somewhat puzzled. How did this guy manage that?
He could actually split a mouthful of pure true qi into two paths? Isn't that cheating?!
Cao Ci said with a faint smile, "It's a new punching technique I realized from watching boxing outside the capital. Temporary name: 'Bowstring.' A single mouthful of pure true qi, with head and tail interlinked."
That is, Cao Ci hadn't truly split into two pure true qi streams, which would violate martial arts common sense. Instead, the head and tail each held one end, allowing him to deliver two punches "simultaneously." The word "simultaneously" here was probably something only a martial artist at the Fullness realm could truly understand its weight.
Chen Ping'an shook his head, quite unimpressed with the technique's name, "It would be more elegant to call it 'Moth Eyebrow.'"
Cao Ci nodded, "Indeed."
As he spoke, a streak of green arced over the sea surface, like a bowstring being drawn, also like a beauty's moth eyebrow.
Creating new boxing techniques for the human martial path was Cao Ci's specialty, but unfortunately, he was up against someone who was a master-level figure in stealing techniques.
Cao Ci turned slightly sideways. Chen Ping'an closed in, imitating the move, delivering both fists toward Cao Ci's temples on both sides. He didn't care if his own center was wide open, or if Cao Ci would take the opportunity to punch him. He was going to hit Cao Ci's head.
Not one to be polite with Chen Ping'an, Cao Ci brought two fingers together like a halberd, extending them with lightning speed, as fast as a flying sword, stabbing Chen Ping'an in the heart.
It was just like the "acupressure" often written about in martial arts novels. However, Cao Ci's halberd strike would both pierce through the opponent's heart and cut off the flow of true qi in a pure martial artist. Once that mouthful of true qi dissipated, the scene inside the human-body world would be like a dam burst, clashing with all spiritual qi. This was extremely effective against certain thugs who could cultivate both martial and Dao arts, effectively hitting them twice.
The two martial artists, who had both entered the eleventh realm in the same "year," used a trading-death-for-death approach on their second punch.
Neither dodged nor evaded. They each relied on their physiques. Chen Ping'an turned his fist into a palm, so Cao Ci's temples were heavily slapped, his vision blurred.
Chen Ping'an was stabbed in the heart by the two fingers, but his heart wasn't pierced through. Instead, he twisted his body and retreated back, so he didn't slide straight backward. Instead, his steps changed, drawing circles on the sea surface, green flowers blooming one after another, circles following circles. The two distanced themselves. When the blue-robed figure stopped, both his expression and fist intent were clearly better than Cao Ci, who had taken those two solid slaps.
Chen Ping'an raised his hand, brushed his blue robe with the back of it, then lifted his hand, grinned, and pointed at Cao Ci's ears.
Cao Ci certainly knew the miserable sight of blood flowing from both ear holes.
If it had been an ordinary Fullness realm martial artist, those two hits would have been enough to make them collapse, deciding both victory and life-or-death.
Cao Ci remained calm, just lightly shook his head. But it seemed he was genuinely angered at this moment. Cao Ci squinted. Doing that again??
In an instant, countless white-clothed Cao Cis appeared around Chen Ping'an.
A single blue-robed figure seemed to have drawn a prison for himself, standing inside an invisible large circle, maneuvering and evading as a snowstorm raged around him.
Between the blue sea and the clear sky, even a Flying Ascension realm cultivator watching from close by could no longer make out the faces of the two martial artists. They could only hear strange earthly sounds resonating between the water and the sky—the long tolling of bells and drums like in temples, the crisp and melodious jade chimes of Daoist temples, the secret mantras of Esoteric Buddhism and the loud blowing of conch shells, the court music of hundreds of sitting performers—enough to shock the soul and sway the mind.
The mingled fist intents twisted the light in this space, making it like seeing flowers through fog. The traces of their strikes were barely visible, like crisscrossing tree branches. The fist forces that collided and then exploded were like splashes of ink on rice paper, creating freehand floral paintings.
Flying Ascension realm cultivators could come and join in the fun.
Immortal realm cultivators might not be able to take a punch up close.
Jade Pure realm cultivators couldn't even see their faces.
The killing power, body speed, and fist technique patterns of a Fullness realm martial artist at the stages of Vigor, Return to Truth, and Spirit Arrival could always be estimated by cultivators.
But once they entered the eleventh realm, there was a whole new great world.
After a temporary pause, each retreated. The blue waves beneath their feet were cut into two platforms, slowly moving with the two martial artists. The surging fist intent, cascading like a waterfall, followed the two figures, pulling a deep and visible ravine between them in the sea. One blue, one white, each stood at the "tide of the human martial path," confronting each other from afar again.
Waves leaped high and crashed back into the sea. Between the two martial mountains, a brilliant rainbow appeared, like a bridge spanning the sky.
Chen Ping'an's upper body was already torn to shreds. He simply tore off the fabric and tied it around his waist. His bare chest and back revealed a lean, long-limbed physique.
He was not the kind of martial artist with bulging muscles. His body had a natural, effortless feel, concealing unimaginable power. Under the sunlight, he looked like a golden body that could endure for eternity.
Cao Ci stood on the other side. His white clothes, though torn into a few holes, were not too badly damaged. At least he didn't have to expose his upper body like his opponent.
Since neither was holding back anymore, the sound of their heartbeats alone could stir up waves of fist intent that resonated with heaven and earth.
On the path of martial arts, step by step, Chen Ping'an had walked this life with such solidity.
Gu You's Mountain-Shaking Fist Manual, Cui Cheng of Bamboo Tower, Old Lady Bai of the Sword Qi Great Wall, Li Er of Lion Peak in North Julu Continent. Jiang She. Ancient Shaman.
Chen Ping'an reached out to wipe the blood off one arm. His muscles were split open in countless places, remnants of Cao Ci's fist intent. Chen Ping'an's palm felt like iron, as if scraping over countless glass shards.
He remembered Li Er once saying that if the thousand-plus qi cavities within the human-body world were like deep wells, wild ponds, and lakes, and the circulation routes of a practitioner's blood and spiritual qi were like streams, rivers, and great waterways, then the six hundred and thirty-nine human muscles were the martial artist's uniquely endowed great mountains and continuous dragon veins, which needed to be cut open.
Therefore, a martial artist's single mouthful of pure true qi was the path carved out. From this, the operation of true qi in the eleventh realm was to make this path soar into the sky, like a wisp of incense smoke rising within the temple of the body, connecting with heaven and earth.
Always away from home, on the road of wandering. Not yet fifty years old, Chen Ping'an's life had been filled with all kinds of battlefields—he had fought more than a hundred battles.
Cao Ci tugged at the corner of his mouth, pulling at the swollen muscles on his cheek.
His heart was as still as water, but at this moment, Cao Ci's eyes unexpectedly revealed an intense desire to win, a strong competitive spirit.
It was as if he was telling the opponent a fact that even the current Martial Lord couldn't change.
Today, Cao Ci would still not lose to Chen Ping'an.
And the same would be true in the future.
Chen Ping'an, the barefoot one, slowly backed away a distance, then began to charge forward. His body leaped high, just like the old straw sandals of his youth crossing the stream near his hometown.