Chapter 134: This Year
At the summit of Mount Heng, there was a small temple without any gold-lettered plaque. Outside the temple stood an ancient cypress, lush and verdant, exuding an air of antiquity.
Inside and outside the small temple, lanterns blazed brightly, hanging one after another. A dozen or so male and female servants gathered in twos and threes outside, whispering among themselves.
Inside the temple, five or six men were drinking. Their ages ranged from twenty to forty. Their faces were flushed red from the wine, and their laughter rang out clearly. Open jars of wine were scattered messily across the floor. These men seemed to be from proper aristocratic families, their conversation refined as they criticized current politics, strategizing and debating. During the revelry, one man, in high spirits, bared his chest and belly, raised his cup high, and turned to face the clay statue of the Green Lady in the shrine, laughing loudly: "Whether you are a deity or a demon, I am not afraid. If you dare to show your true form, I will dare to invite you to drink with me! Haha, Green Lady, if you truly step down from your altar tonight, it will surely become a fine tale in the future, and your incense offerings will only grow more prosperous. I drink to you first!"
The man, reeking of alcohol, belched and wobbled unsteadily, tilting his head back to gulp down the wine. Most of it spilled onto his clothes and the ground.
His friends teased and joked with him constantly. Emboldened by the wine, someone declared he would carry the Green Lady's statue down and sleep with it tonight, sharing a dream between man and spirit—that would be a true tale to remember. Such blasphemous words provoked even louder laughter.
A faint sigh echoed within the small temple, barely audible.
A gentle breeze stirred, but the men, deep in their cups, noticed nothing unusual.
----
Halfway up the mountain, Chen Ping'an, who was practicing the Sword Furnace stance, felt a stir in his mind. He looked down and saw someone approaching leisurely with a tree branch in hand. It was the Lushi survivor named Xie Xie.
Just as Chen Ping'an was about to descend from the branch, the girl looked up and smiled sweetly. She waved the branch, her voice naturally soft and alluring: "You don't need to come down. We can talk up here."
The girl began to run lightly, then leaped high, her toes touching a large tree before she rebounded backward to land on another tree. Repeating this process, she rose higher and higher. After several such steps, she reached a branch near the tree where Chen Ping'an stood. It was clear she was trained in martial arts.
Xie Xie sat sideways on the branch, swinging her feet, and smiled. "You're a martial artist, and I'm a qi cultivator. We're quite different. Qi cultivators, who think highly of themselves, consider martial artists as people without talent for cultivation. Practicing martial arts is just a second-rate choice made out of necessity. Since martial arts are divided into nine realms, they are mockingly called the 'nine lowly professions'—similar to how scholars consider themselves the 'pure stream' and look down on martial artists as lowly clerks. In the end, both sides despise each other."
Chen Ping'an asked, "Miss Xie, why are you telling me this?"
She placed the branch horizontally across her legs and spoke frankly: "Cui Dongshan must be truly desperate. He's burning incense at every temple he finds. He came to me privately and said that if I could put in a good word for him with you—even if you still refuse to take him as a student—he would give me a treasure. Of course, I covet his ownerless flying sword, but Cui Dongshan wouldn't agree to that. He only promised to give me a bamboo flute after the deed was done. He showed me what it looked like—it's a genuine Fish-Insect Flute, once a secret treasure of the Lushi dynasty's palace. It is one of the earliest covenant tokens between a mountain sect and the Lushi founding emperor. I'm a woman, after all, so I love anything beautiful and eye-catching. So here I am, looking for you."
Having been interrupted, Chen Ping'an stopped practicing his standing stance. He sat on the branch just like her, sitting upright, and met her gaze. "Miss Xie, please continue. I'm listening."
Xie Xie chuckled. "I've already said it all! Talking about the difference between pure martial artists and mountain cultivators earlier was just to avoid an awkward silence—throwing out a brick to attract jade, as they say. To be honest, seeing Cui Dongshan hit a wall with you time and again, I used to find it quite satisfying. But now that it's my turn to discuss something with you, I'm troubled. I'm afraid you'll refuse to listen and reject me outright. If that happens, the Fish-Insect Flute that was almost in my hands would grow wings and fly away."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "If Cui Dongshan asks, I can confirm that Miss Xie has pleaded for him. If possible, Miss Xie, could you tell me something about martial arts?"
The girl squinted at the boy's face, as if trying to see through his background at a glance. Her voice was soft. "As for martial arts, I only know bits and pieces from hearsay. Nothing I can't share. The reason I know even these scraps is because the lower five realms of qi cultivation—nurturing qi and refining qi—still cannot escape the scope of skin, flesh, sinews, bones, and body. That's why they are called the 'lower five realms.'"
She extended a finger and pointed at several spots on Chen Ping'an's body in the air. "The human body has over three hundred qi mansions and acupoints, connected to each other like mountain ranges. The first realm of martial arts, the Mud Embryo Realm, is about finding that one breath of qi and helping it find the most suitable qi mansion or acupoint to dwell and nurture. Talent is revealed here. Someone must have told you this before, right?"
Chen Ping'an was listening intently. When she asked, he replied, "I've heard about this roughly before, but I don't mind hearing it again. So please continue, Miss Xie. Don't worry about whether I've heard it already."
The girl unconsciously tapped the branch lightly, lifted her chin slightly, and looked to a spot higher than Chen Ping'an. "So-called martial arts prodigies, first, find that breath of qi at a very young age. Second, the qi mansion or acupoint it chooses is not some obscure spot but a key acupoint, giving them an inherent advantage. It's like someone occupying a remote hillock or an abandoned graveyard, while someone else occupies Red Candle Town—a strategic crossroads—and yet another occupies the capital of Great Li. The scenery is naturally different. Third, the thickness, density, and length of that single breath of qi also vary in quality. Even if your qi mansion is located in the Great Li capital, if you lack the ability to tap its potential, it's meaningless. Can you understand this analogy?"
Chen Ping'an said, "I can understand."
"Earlier, Cui Dongshan mentioned the so-called 'lifebound flying sword.' That refers to the flying sword nurtured in the lifebound acupoint of us qi cultivators who are sword cultivators. It merges with the sword cultivator's soul. When the lifebound flying sword leaves the acupoint to kill enemies, it becomes a physical sword. When it returns to the acupoint, it turns into an intangible thing—very mysterious. My master once said that in fact, the qi mansions and acupoints of humans can be seen as the blessed lands and caves of heaven in the world. They inherently possess the 'square inch' divine power. Through diligent cultivation, once you open up the joints within, whether it's a lifebound flying sword or other treasures, no matter how massive like a mountain, they can all be accommodated within."
"The second realm of your martial arts involves starting from the lifebound acupoint and expanding outward, turning originally rugged and narrow meridians into spacious official roads. Why are there so many martial arts schools in the world? Because the methods of 'opening mountains and roads' differ—where to start, which path to take, how to take shortcuts—each family has its secret manuals not shared with outsiders. For example, the meridians opened by a martial artist practicing fists are vastly different from those opened by using swords, spears, sabers, or halberds. Chen Ping'an, I can tell you are currently laying the foundation for the second realm. No wonder you practice fist techniques, walking stances, and standing stances diligently every day. At your pace, I believe you'll soon reach the third realm. By the way, can I ask where your lifebound acupoint is?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "No, you cannot."
The girl wrinkled her nose and muttered, "Stingy."
But then, thinking of the miserable plight of the young Great Li national teacher Cui Chan, she immediately felt that Chen Ping'an's refusal was only normal. Chen Ping'an's temperament—put bluntly, like a stone in a latrine, hard and stinky; put nicely, it was firm and unyielding, as immovable as a thunderbolt.
Chen Ping'an suddenly asked, "Miss Xie, why did you say I can reach the third realm soon?"
Xie Xie blurted out, "You martial artists rely solely on that single breath of qi. In the end, it's at the cost of harming your physique to gain killing power. If you want to prolong your life, you must break through to the sixth realm early. Only then can you nourish your soul and spirit daily, giving back to your body. If you linger too long in the second and third realms, that single breath of innate true qi will gradually wither. Every time you fight and suffer severe injuries, it's a massive drain on your vitality. That's why countless fools have literally killed themselves by practicing fists. Even martial artists from wealthy aristocratic families, who can soak their bodies in precious medicinal herbs to heal, find it only a temporary fix—it doesn't truly benefit one's soul. Although low-level martial arts cannot attain the Dao of longevity, if you reach the pinnacle of martial arts—the ninth realm or even the legendary true 'Ultimate Realm,' the tenth realm—then living to a hundred or even two hundred years old is not difficult."
Chen Ping'an countered, "That's not entirely accurate. People with good talent can pursue speed. But for someone with poor aptitude like me, the more anxious I am, the easier it is to make mistakes. It's better to take solid steps one at a time, never making a wrong move. Then every step will be useful. Besides, I'm not practicing martial arts to pursue those lofty realms. I'm just... strengthening my body."
As Chen Ping'an spoke, he chose a more subtle phrasing. To be precise, Chen Ping'an was using fist practice to keep himself alive.
After Cai Jinjian maliciously shattered his Bridge of Longevity with underhanded techniques, not only was his path of cultivation blocked and severed, but his physique also suffered greatly. Later, during the battle at Chess Dock Mountain, he suffered heavy losses. The meager lifespan he had painstakingly accumulated was wiped out. Fortunately, during his journey south, through daily extensive walking and standing stances, Chen Ping'an had managed to build up some reserves. He could clearly feel his body improving—like a rundown house with drafts on all sides, patching it up bit by bit still proved useful.
The girl smiled. "The pace of martial arts progress varies from person to person. If you think steady progress is better, I suppose that's fine too."
As a qi cultivator, Xie Xie only had a partial understanding of martial arts. She often habitually applied cultivation concepts to martial arts. Although her perspective was broader than Zhu He's, she was certainly not as accurate and thorough in the finer details as Zhu He, a fifth-realm martial artist. Moreover, Zhu He had been praised by the old ancestor of the Li clan of Fortune Street as a 'wise teacher,' a rank above 'famous teacher,' which shows how impressive Zhu He was. However, limited by the town's small Li clan's heritage and like most martial artists in the lower jianghu, Zhu He firmly believed that the ninth realm of martial arts was the end of the road, thus calling it the 'Ultimate Realm.'
In fact, there is a tenth realm above the ninth. The gap between the ninth and tenth is enormous—even larger than the gap between the sixth and ninth realms.
Martial arts, if not connected to the Great Dao, even if the physical body is tempered to be as indestructible as a Buddhist Vajra, it is still difficult to achieve great accomplishments. At the very least, the short lifespan is a real and huge bottleneck.
Because of this, in the eyes of qi cultivators, martial artists are people without talent for cultivation, making the second-rate choice out of necessity. Since martial arts are divided into nine realms, they are mockingly called the 'nine lowly professions.' Cultivators consider themselves the 'pure stream,' and martial artists are seen as lowly clerks. Both sides despise each other.
Martial arts, if not connected to the Great Dao, even if the physical body is tempered to be as indestructible as a Buddhist Vajra, it is still difficult to achieve great accomplishments. After a hundred years, they become decrepit; at most two hundred years, and then they are just insignificant bones.
Chen Ping'an asked curiously, "Miss Xie, you qi cultivators are carefree immortals on the mountain. Do you also need to train your physique like martial artists?"
Back in the small town, Ning Yao had warned him that people like Cai Jinjian of Cloud Gaze Mountain and Fu Nanhua of Old Dragon City, even if bound by the rules that forbade the use of magic within the town, had physiques far tougher than ordinary people. They could easily kill him, Chen Ping'an, with a single punch. And if he, Chen Ping'an, didn't strike vital points, it would be very difficult for him to kill them.
Hearing the words 'carefree immortals,' the girl twitched the corner of her mouth. A hint of bitterness filled her lively eyes. Hiding this discouragement, she patiently explained, "Nurturing qi and refining qi are the most important. The physique is just a side effort. Hmm, that's not quite right either. How to put it? It's like a ceramic bowl can't hold ten pounds of wine. But a 'square inch' item of immense value, the size of a ceramic bowl, can hold a hundred or a thousand pounds of wine. We qi cultivators need to channel the natural vitality of heaven and earth to temper and hone the skin, flesh, sinews, bones, and blood of our physique, making that ceramic bowl sturdier. If a qi cultivator's physical shell is too delicate and fragile, it will certainly ruin the great matter of longevity."
After saying this, the girl lost the heart to continue the conversation. She fell silent, turning her head under the moonlight to gaze at the scenery beyond Mount Heng.
Chen Ping'an didn't disturb her thoughts.
The principle of 'shallow conversation, deep trust'—Chen Ping'an, with little book knowledge, couldn't articulate it, but he certainly understood the reasoning.
So he would never reveal to outsiders a single word about the circulation of qi in his acupoints.
As for the Eighteen Halts of sword qi circulation taught by A Liang, he kept it strictly secret.
In truth, the stream of qi that moved like a fire dragon within him had finally chosen two qi mansions as its dwellings, one above and one below. One of those 'mansions' was precisely the acupoint where the white serpent he had slain at Chess Dock Mountain was, and where that thread of sword qi had disappeared. After the sword qi left, that stream of qi, as if acquiring a treasure, quickly settled into it, spending far more time there than in the other acupoint near the lower dantian.
Then, combining the breathing method Old Man Yang had taught him early on, Chen Ping'an tried to make every breath during his walking and standing stances pass through, touch, or approach the various acupoints traversed by the Eighteen Halts.
Anyone could see Chen Ping'an's fist practice at a glance.
But the almost obsessive way he breathed might not reveal the tremendous effort behind it.
Old Man Yao had once said something that the boy from the Mud Vase Alley would remember for a lifetime.
"What is rightfully yours, hold it and don't lose it. What is not yours, don't even think about it."
In the past, when Chen Ping'an had nothing, he thought more about the latter sentence. Now that he had some assets and had begun to pursue goals, the former sentence came into play.
I, Chen Ping'an, will do everything I can do well to the best of my ability!
He often told himself this silently.
On his journey south, the straw-sandal boy had changed one pair of sandals after another. Even though he had seen many new sights, the principles he had learned early on—big or small—there were only a few, and he hadn't lost a single one.
Perhaps because he had been poor since childhood, these words of reason, which others might consider hollow and useless, were especially valuable to the boy from Mud Vase Alley, who had nothing in his hands. As time passed, they only became more precious. When dealing with others, he would think of them. When alone, he would take them out and chew on them.
One of the Confucian elementary classics, *The Great Rites*, says: "What Heaven imparts to man is called human nature. To follow our nature is called the Way. To cultivate the Way is called teaching. The Way may not be left for an instant. If it could be left, it would not be the Way."
One day, Li Baoping explained this passage of the sage's teaching to Chen Ping'an. The white-clad boy, who usually never showed himself, stepped out of the carriage and silently came to their side. After listening, he silently left again.
At the time, the little girl had lectured from the book in a general and rigid manner, leaving Chen Ping'an completely confused. They quickly skipped that part.
Now, the girl suddenly spoke up, "Don't mind me, Chen Ping'an. You go ahead."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Cui Dongshan said that this Mount Heng might have spirits or goblins. It's late, Miss Xie. Please be careful."
The girl smiled. "I'm still a minor cultivator in the lower five realms, but I have a few means to protect myself in life-or-death situations. Don't worry."
Chen Ping'an slid down the tree trunk to the ground and began to walk slowly in the 'Walking Stance' of the Mountain-Shaking Manual, moving with a relaxed yet controlled rhythm.
What was originally a simple external boxing frame had been practiced by the boy to the point of showing a flowing, internal martial aura.
The girl held the branch and gently tapped her knee. The white-clad boy appeared mysteriously on a nearby high branch—the very spot where Chen Ping'an had been practicing the Sword Furnace stance. The branch beneath him swayed gently, and the boy's body rose and fell with it.
Cui Chan faced away from the mountain, casually waved his hand, and a bamboo flute spun through the air toward the girl Xie Xie. She reached out and caught it, looking down with a complex expression.
Xie Xie asked, "We've been traveling for nearly twenty days now. Can it be that even the National Teacher hasn't seen through Chen Ping'an's temperament? You told me to chat idly with Chen Ping'an, allowing me to say whatever comes to mind. But what is this supposed to yield?"
The white-clad boy gazed into the distance and said softly, "When Chen Ping'an sees me, his entire spirit instinctively contracts, like a city gate seeing wolf smoke as a warning and closing itself off. When he interacts with Li Baoping and the other two, he shows a bit more genuine emotion. But that's not enough. He needs someone to chat with him about some weighty, mundane matters."
Xie Xie tentatively asked, "Does the National Teacher want to determine where Chen Ping'an's true bottom line lies?"
The boy answered irrelevantly, his face full of pain. "That old man has imprinted some words on my soul. For now, I only know that they will extremely amplify a certain emotion of mine. It seems natural when it arises, but looking back, it's truly terrifying. If Old Man Yang hadn't reminded me, I would still think it all reasonable."
The girl smiled. "Is it to teach the National Teacher to treat others with sincerity?"
Cui Chan did not turn his head. His face was cold. "Little girl, I advise you not to speak sarcastically. My tolerance has limits. As for him, Chen Ping'an, I can't do anything to him. Otherwise, he would have died a hundred times over. As for someone like you, a little creature drifting with the current, even if you die, no one will erect a tombstone or pay respects—a pitiful bug. If I really wanted to crush you now, it would be as easy as lifting my foot."
The girl fell silent.
Cui Chan put one hand behind his back and twisted his wrist with the other. "Yu Lu is far smarter and more likable than you."
The girl dared not speak recklessly anymore.
Perhaps because the journey had been too smooth, and the Great Li National Teacher, wearing the skin of a boy, had acted so absurdly, she had unknowingly developed a sense of contempt.
The boy's eyes were lost, muttering to himself, "The Dao is lofty, the Buddha's dharma is distant, and the rules are strict. These can be said to be the foundations of their respective teachings. How can the hundred schools of thought compete with these three? How can they establish their own teachings? Is there really not a single opportunity? Must I learn from Qi Jingchun, forcibly breaking away from the old man's scholarly lineage through sheer knowledge and insight? But the problem is, that's what I did before. I even thought I had found the right path. But the old man slapped me down with one hand. What the hell does he want from me? Just say it!"
Once again, tears streamed uncontrollably down the boy's face.
Seeing this scene, the girl Xie Xie no longer found it ridiculous or comical. She wished she were deaf and had heard nothing.
The boy turned his tear-streaked face and smiled. "Little bitch, you owe me another life now. Remember, you'll have to repay it all one day."
----
When Chen Ping'an returned to the oxhide tent area, he felt his head ache.
The group had gained an unfamiliar face.
She wore a white dress, her skin whiter than snow, her lips a dark purple. Her aura was gloomy, as if she were not alive.
The woman sat by the campfire, playing chess with Lin Shouyi. The faceless yin spirit sat cross-legged nearby, staring at the board.
Li Baoping also crouched beside them. The little girl had no concept of "observing without speaking." Whether Lin Shouyi or the stranger placed a stone, she always commented.
Only Yu Lu guarded the carriage, not approaching the campfire.
Chen Ping'an was stunned. What on earth was going on?
Li Huai ran quickly to Chen Ping'an's side and whispered, "This older sister is very open and honest. As soon as she met us, she admitted she is a spirit from the Green Lady Temple on the mountaintop. In life, she loved playing chess the most. Plus, the small temple over there is now filled with a bunch of literati exploring the strange and drinking heavily. Their noise annoyed her, so she came down for a walk. She happened to see Lin Shouyi reviewing a game, and couldn't resist asking for a match. She is willing to offer a rare chess manual to Lin Shouyi as thanks. The yin spirit senior interrogated her thoroughly and deemed it safe, so he agreed."
Chen Ping'an had no talent for chess, and because he was afraid of making mistakes, he also played slowly. So after Lin Shouyi found playmates in Xie Xie and Yu Lu, he no longer wanted to play with Chen Ping'an. Chen Ping'an knew he just wasn't cut out for chess, so he didn't delve deeper into it. But Lin Shouyi often spent his rests playing through patterns alone, as still as an enlightened old monk—clearly the result of family influence.
Chen Ping'an walked over to the campfire but didn't approach the chessboard. He added a piece of firewood. Even Lin Shouyi, who was in the middle of a game, looked up at Chen Ping'an. The stern boy's face showed some apology. After all, the yin spirit traveling with them, after the incident with the ghost in the wedding dress, had explained in detail that any incense-burning deity not recorded in the court's mountain registers, no matter how high their cultivation or good their reputation, could only be classified as a ghostly yin entity—not much better than a spirit like himself, who was a wandering ghost with nothing to rely on.
Chen Ping'an waved his hand and smiled. "It's fine, it's fine. You two continue."
The female ghost was completely absorbed in the game. She pinched a black stone between two fingers, resting her chin on her hand, her brow furrowed.
It was obvious that her skill wasn't very high; otherwise, she wouldn't be steadily losing to Lin Shouyi.
Chen Ping'an sat a little away from the campfire, stealing a glance at the yin spirit. The latter smiled slightly and nodded, signaling that it was fine and this woman wouldn't cause trouble.
Only then did Chen Ping'an fully relax.
This yin spirit was supposed to part ways with them outside the Great Li's Savage Pass, then return all the way to Dragon Spring County. But he had changed his mind, saying he would see them a little further. Not because of Old Man Yang's orders, but for his own selfish reasons.
Chen Ping'an didn't understand why, but seeing the yin spirit's insistence, he agreed.
Chen Ping'an began practicing the Sword Furnace again.
When the boy opened his eyes, he found the yin spirit sitting beside him, facing away from those playing and watching chess. The spirit smiled at Chen Ping'an.
Chen Ping'an asked, "Something on your mind?"
The yin being hummed softly and said, "I'll be going back soon. I'm saying goodbye to you first."
Chen Ping'an nodded.
The yin being suddenly called out, "Chen Ping'an."
Just as the boy was feeling puzzled, his eyes widened as he saw a faintly familiar face emerge. The yin spirit revealed his true face for a moment and quickly made a shushing gesture with his finger, then reverted to the blurred and shifting visage. The yin spirit spoke directly into Chen Ping'an's heart-mind through secret art, his voice gentle, "Little Peace, thank you for looking after my little Can all these years. I am deeply grateful. You even gave that mud eel to little Can. I truly don't know how to repay you. Honestly, if I could, I would give you my life. But I can't..."
Chen Ping'an's eyes reddened, then he grinned.
The kind-hearted boy was genuinely happy for Gu Can.
But he couldn't help feeling a little sad himself.
The yin spirit extended a fist and tapped his own chest lightly, laughing. "Chen Ping'an, I believe that one day you will reach the highest and farthest place!"
Before Chen Ping'an could respond, the yin spirit's figure had already silently vanished.
This year, Chen Ping'an was fourteen.
The young Cui Chan was fifteen. Lin Shouyi was twelve, Li Baoping nine, and Li Huai seven. Yu Lu was fourteen. Xie Xie was thirteen.
(End of this chapter)