Chapter 148: The Youth Asks the Spring Breeze
The old scholar stamped his foot, fuming, "Only women and petty people are difficult to deal with! The ancients did not deceive me!"
The tall woman twisted the snow-white lotus leaf she had picked from who knows where, murderous intent thick in the air. Though a smile still lingered on her face, it carried a bone-chilling coldness. "Can't win a fight, so you resort to name-calling? You asking for a beating?!"
The circular sword formation that had originally spread over ten li instantly contracted, now only surrounding the riverside cliff area. At the same time, the sword aura grew even more fiercely astonishing. The walls of the formation, condensed from sword aura, even pressed against the intangible, formless Great Dao that flowed through heaven and earth.
The old scholar shrank his neck, then a flash of inspiration struck, and he immediately regained his confidence. He boomed, "We can fight, but can we switch to a different method? Don't worry, my request can also include Chen Ping'an. It'll be perfectly reasonable and just what you want!"
The tall woman remained silent. Suddenly, she noticed the old man frantically winking at her.
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Fine."
---
At the mouth of the well in the inn, the youth pressed his two fingers together like a sword, pointing down into the well.
The rainbow light created by the first wisp of sword aura had mostly faded within the old well, no longer so blindingly dazzling that one couldn't look directly at it. By that light, Chen Ping'an could faintly see this wisp of sword aura, which had been described as "extremely small." After leaving the qi aperture, it condensed into a tangible form, like a torrential rainstorm furiously pounding against a "ground." That ground, bearing the assault of the storm, seemed to be the surface of a circular mirror.
Of course, Chen Ping'an had no way of knowing that this was called the Thunder Department Seal Mirror, an item of extraordinary origin and profound background!
In ancient times, after the Heavenly Emperor who wielded lightning law fell, the deities of the Thunder Department seized the opportunity to rise up, carving up the authority over thunder, the ancestor of all myriad laws. Each took control of a portion of thunder's might. Later, their situation became even more dire. Apart from the Thunder Department deity responsible for announcing spring, the majority of the other gods had been reduced to something akin to mountain and river spirits. They were either bound by the decrees of the Three Religions' sages, forbidden to cross the "thunder pool," or frequently summoned and dismissed at will by military forces like Wind Snow Temple's True Martial Mountain, or by various Daoist sects using thunder method talismans and spirit-summoning arts.
As for this Thunder Department Seal Mirror, its owner had once been one of the main deities of the Thunder Department. Though it had suffered numerous calamities, from its surface to its interior, it was already battered and broken, the lightning glow within nearly exhausted. But it was absolutely not something that cultivators of the Fifth Realm in the Grace and Harmony Region could break.
The white-clothed youth at the bottom of the well had already been pressed down over a zhang deeper. He still braced the base of the mirror with both hands and his shoulders. The sword aura's impact caused the mirror's surface to tremble violently, constantly cracking and shattering. But the residual lightning within the mirror quickly repaired it back to its original intact state.
The sword aura's assault was like iron cavalry charging into formation; the mirror's defense was like infantry holding their ground to the death.
The two wore each other down, a contest of whose momentum would wane first.
The youth Cui Chan clenched his teeth, his face covered in blood, blurring his handsome features. He had no strength left for harsh words, only silently chanting in his mind: "Endure this storm of sword aura. Once I get back up, I'll repay you a hundredfold! I can do it. The sword rain's momentum is turning from peak to decline. I just need to hold on a little longer. Chen Ping'an, you just wait!"
Though the youth's spirit remained unbroken, his blood-soaked appearance was truly pitiful.
Even in the bleak years after betraying his master, as he journeyed far, leaving the Central Continent, heading south to that great continent, and finally settling in the smallest territory of Eastern Treasured Vial Continent—the former foremost disciple of the Sage of Literature, Cui Chan—had traveled who knows how many thousands of li. Hadn't he roamed freely all along? Demons, monsters, ghosts, and goblins—who among them could have made him so miserable?
It must be known that before becoming the Grand Scholar of the Great Li Empire, the wandering scholar Cui Chan once had a vulgar catchphrase that couldn't grace the elegant halls. After slaying demons and vanquishing evils according to his whims, he would say, "With a snap of my fingers, they vanish in smoke and dust. Even ants are more worthy than them."
The youth Cui Chan, bearing the mirror, continued to sink, but the rate of descent gradually slowed.
The mirror could still hold out, but sword aura continuously leaked down around its edges. Soaked by the unending sword aura, the youth's body was already teetering.
He had no choice but to move his mind, causing a life-saving talisman, his last resort, to slide out from his sleeve. He had treasured it for many years, and using it now made his face twist with pain.
The golden talisman first stuck to the white sleeve, then instantly melted. Soon, the surface of Cui Chan's white robe was covered in flowing golden runes. Listening closely, one could hear the faint sound of Buddhist chants arising. The white robe rippled like water, lending the youth Cui Chan a solemn, majestic appearance.
This talisman was extremely special. If gold powder and cinnabar were the main materials for drawing talismans, then some materials that could only be found by chance, once made into talismans, imbued them with marvelous effects. For instance, Cui Chan's talisman used the golden blood of a Western Buddhist Kingdom's Arhat with a golden body as its primary material. Moreover, this enlightened monk had nearly formed a Bodhisattva fruit position. Thus, his blood appeared golden. Mixed into gold powder and used to write the Diamond Sutra on the talisman, it transformed into a Diamond Protection Talisman of boundless Buddhist power, capable of withstanding even a full-force strike from a land sword immortal.
How could Cui Chan not feel the pain?
After unleashing this priceless life-saving talisman, the youth made a quick calculation and easily deduced that the sword aura could at most shatter the mirror's surface without damaging the mirror itself. In the future, during thunderstorm nights, he could go into the lightning-filled clouds and channel lightning into the mirror. Within a few years, this Thunder Department Seal Mirror would be restored to its original state.
With this, Cui Chan's mind was set. He tilted his arm slightly and roughly wiped the blood from his face. "A monumental disgrace! It nearly ruined the very foundation of this golden jade body of mine!"
Cui Chan closed his eyes and began silently gathering his momentum.
He was waiting for a critical moment when this sword energy was about to dissipate but not yet fully gone—that would be his chance to surge back up to the well mouth.
Of course, he wouldn't wait for the sword energy to completely vanish.
If he waited until the sword energy was entirely gone, and Chen Ping'an above discovered he was still alive, that mud-legged kid from Mud Bottle Alley might very well have some follow-up underhanded tricks.
After all, at this point, neither his cultivation nor his body could withstand any further "scrutiny" of unexpected surprises.
Truly, the Great Dao was muddy and rugged, hard to travel!
The youth nurtured deep hatred in his heart.
Originally, the trip to the small town was intended by Grand Scholar Cui Chan as his final battle. Because it involved an opportunity to confirm his Dao, he didn't hesitate to split his soul in half. Lodging in another body's shell, he left the Great Li capital in the guise of a youth.
He had thought that even if he couldn't sever the literary fortune of his teacher, the Sage of Literature, and his junior brother Qi Jingchun, he could use the Mud Bottle Alley youth as an object of contemplation. Using another's stone to polish his own jade, he would hone his mind and make up for his greatest deficiency in temperament, thereby breaking through to the Tenth Realm in one go. Then he might hope to return to his peak cultivation of the Twelfth Realm. Or even better, by promoting his own learning throughout the Great Li, if in the future his teachings of practical statecraft could spread across half the continent, he could advance another step from his hundred-foot pole. If the Confucian scholars of an entire continent all became his disciples, the benefits would be unimaginable.
At the time, no matter how he calculated, Cui Chan believed he was invincible. The only question was the size of the profit.
But he never expected that Qi Jingchun's true chosen disciple was not Zhao Yao, to whom he had given the Spring Character Seal, nor Song Jixin, to whom he had given the remaining books, nor even Lin Shouyi and those other young scholarly seeds.
Instead, it was a little girl named Li Baoping—a girl! How could a woman inherit a literary lineage? A female master? A female teacher? Weren't they afraid of becoming a laughingstock for all under heaven? Weren't they afraid of being regarded as the prime heretics by the old men in the Confucian academies and schools?
Even more unexpected was that Qi Jingchun, on behalf of his master, had accepted a disciple and transferred the legacy of their teacher, the Sage of Literature, to the youth Chen Ping'an.
Thus, not only was the literary lineage not severed, the torch had been passed down to Li Baoping's generation. Moreover, it had re-bound Cui Chan, who had betrayed his master and left his sect, to the Sage of Literature once again, through Chen Ping'an.
This caused Cui Chan's state of mind, which he had mistakenly believed held all the winning cards, to shatter completely in an instant. Combined with the intangible tug of literary fortune, he plummeted straight down to the Fifth Realm. If not for later reaching an alliance with Old Man Yang, learning a long-lost divine technique that filled a loophole in Cui Chan's own research method, allowing him to quickly nourish his soul like withered wood meeting spring, his cultivation would have begun to flow back and rise.
But this secret method had a fatal flaw: the accumulated cultivation was "illusory." Once used, it would revert to its original state. Unless one could break through to the Tenth Realm in one go and enter the Upper Five Realms, then "when the false becomes true, the true becomes false"—the interplay of reality and illusion would open a completely different realm.
By the time he reached this prefectural city's Autumn Reed Inn, the "illusory" realm of the youth Cui Chan had actually approached the Ninth Realm again. This gave him the chance to use the military strategists' "Spirit Summoning" method to summon the golden body manifestation of a Confucian sage. The realm was fake, but the methods were real. That's why he was able to scare the River God of the Cold Food River out of his wits. Otherwise, with the experience and cunning of that blue-robed man who had commanded the northern water transportation for hundreds of years, he wouldn't have been tamed like a mere stream catfish by Cui Chan without suffering great hardship.
At the bottom of the well.
The rain of sword aura pouring down from the well mouth remained aggressive, the sword light splashing everywhere as it struck the mirror's surface.
The white-clothed youth's feet had almost touched the bottom of the well's water channel. The well water and the city's underground water connected to the great river had long been evaporated by the sword aura.
The youth Cui Chan began his countdown in his mind.
He didn't want to kill Chen Ping'an—that was absolutely true, at least for now.
Because Cui Chan was more like playing tug-of-war, hoping to pull the youth onto his own Great Dao. At least in the short term, Cui Chan would not only refrain from harming Chen Ping'an, but would do his best to help Chen Ping'an increase his cultivation. At most, he would subtly change Chen Ping'an's temperament, like a spring breeze transforming rain, gradually and imperceptibly, until he eventually became a fellow traveler on Cui Chan's Dao. If Chen Ping'an's luck was good and he had the potential to inherit Cui Chan's mantle in the future, Cui Chan wouldn't refuse.
But Cui Chan truly wanted to kill Li Baoping.
Because once that little girl grew up in the future, and since Cui Chan was still connected to Chen Ping'an, the more abuse and exclusion Li Baoping suffered, the more it would more or less affect Cui Chan's Dao cultivation. For Cui Chan, who pursued perfection, this was absolutely unbearable.
The youth Cui Chan felt this was entirely an unprovoked disaster.
Even if I'm a villain with ulterior motives, if I wanted to kill you, Chen Ping'an, why would I go to all the trouble of playing the grandson all the way? Clearly, I was harmless to you.
On what grounds did you, Chen Ping'an, decide to kill me without mercy based on mere suspicion?
On what grounds did you think I harbored evil intentions toward those three children, then attack without hesitation, without any delay?
Does that make you a righteous gentleman? Qi Jingchun always advocated for gentlemen. So why are you, whom Qi Jingchun valued, so utterly unreasonable? And why did that old man tell me to learn how to be a proper person from you?! I, Cui Chan, was once the foremost disciple of the Sage of Literature. I once taught Qi Jingchun his studies. In terms of status within the Confucian orthodox lineage, I am far above a virtuous gentleman! And you, Chen Ping'an, act entirely on impulse. As always, the old man's judgment is terrible.
Qi Jingchun picked and chose for you, but in the end, didn't he just pick a second Cui Chan for you?
The youth Cui Chan, with his feet touching the stone slab, continued his countdown in his mind, waiting for the right moment.
At the same time, a surge of elation welled up in his chest.
Haha, this is even better. It means that after I escape this predicament, I can slowly torment you. At the very least, I'll let you, Chen Ping'an, live on in misery. Keeping your life, you'll follow me on that Great Dao in the future, and it will go more naturally and smoothly. In that sense, your luck isn't too bad.
Moreover, that old man had planted a word seal on Cui Chan's soul, targeting only Chen Ping'an. It forbade Cui Chan from harboring any malicious thoughts toward Chen Ping'an, under pain of suffering the torment of lashing and heart-piercing. Other than that, there were no other restrictions on his actions. This was barely in line with the old man's scholarship, which emphasized tracing everything back to its source. After rectifying the origin, one could branch out in moral essays and conduct.
In the future, I, Cui Chan, will make you watch with your own eyes as Qi Jingchun's true disciple, that little girl named Li Baoping, dies before you. And I'll make you understand what the struggle for the Great Dao means and why she dies!
The moment has come!
Cui Chan's arms, bracing the mirror, were already a mess of flesh and blood, deep enough to see bone. But he didn't care. "Sword aura like a rainbow, indeed? Waterfall hanging upside down, indeed? Get out of my way!"
---
But just a hair's breadth before Cui Chan thought he had succeeded, the straw-sandaled youth standing firmly at the well mouth finally finished gathering his momentum. Though his soul was shaking and every organ ached to the marrow, he could only whisper tremblingly, "Go."
A second waterfall cascaded down.
Damn you, Chen Ping'an. I'm going to die here because of you.
That was the only thought in the youth Cui Chan's mind at that moment.
Chen Ping'an swayed precariously at the well mouth.
---
Before this.
That night, Chen Ping'an sat in the small pavilion for the second time. At the time, he and Li Baoping, who had woken from a nightmare, were sitting facing each other in the pavilion. An inexplicable, gentle breeze brushed through the small pavilion.
The youth remembered something that pained him. He closed his eyes along with Li Baoping and listened carefully to the wind chime beneath the eaves.
In his heart, the youth silently told himself, "Mr. Qi, if the sound of the wind chime under the eaves is an even number, I'll let it go and endure that Cui Chan. But if it's odd, I'll act."
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-dong.
After the seventh sound, there was silence.
So after the little girl in the red cotton jacket left the pavilion, the youth stood at the edge of the well mouth.
---
Earlier still, before the straw-sandaled youth left the small town.
That time, prompted by Old Man Yang, Chen Ping'an took an umbrella and left the Yang Family Shop to escort the academy teacher who had come to visit Old Man Yang and had given him two landscape seals.
The two of them, one big and one small, walked down the small street.
"A gentleman can be deceived by what is proper. You can say this to Old Man Yang and the others."
"In the future, when you are uncertain, ask the spring breeze. Hmm, keep this one in your heart. You might find it useful someday. But I hope you won't need it."
After saying this, the scholar with graying temples, for once not as rigid and serious as when he taught in the academy, winked at the youth and smiled warmly.
---
When the youth and the little girl left the small town together.
A certain blue-robed Confucian scholar's last remnants of his soul, after visiting a great cave heaven beyond the heavens, returned to the mortal world. He walked side by side with the straw-sandaled youth and the red-cotton-jacketed little girl for a distance, then stopped, looking at the backs of his junior brother and his own disciple, seeing them no further.
As the scholar silently waved his final farewell, with that gentle flick of his sleeve, a spring breeze lingered around the youth, silent and unseen, lingering for a long, long time.
---
In the well.
Together with the Thunder Department Seal Mirror, the youth Cui Chan was slammed hard back to the bottom of the well. He curled up, lying on the bone-dry bluestone floor, trying his best to hide under the mirror.
Though he was fighting with all his might in a final desperate struggle, in his heart, Cui Chan was utterly despairing.
The mirror shook violently, bringing a tremendous impact force to the white-clothed youth beneath. The "water flow" of sword aura that trickled over the mirror's surface caused a burning sensation on his body, making his consciousness begin to blur.
Just as he closed his eyes.
The seal that the old scholar had imprinted on Cui Chan's soul suddenly disappeared.
The white-clothed youth's spirit lifted. Like a man parched for rain finally receiving a downpour, his energy soared. How could Cui Chan dare hold back now? If not now, when? "Haha, heaven helps me! Old man, you actually made such a mistake! You old immortal, you've finally blundered! Truly, heaven aids me, Cui Chan! Heaven never seals off all exits!"
One by one, large golden characters filled with righteous aura were peeled from Cui Chan's soul, bit by bit, by his own will, his face twisted in agony. This kind of pain, from which one's mind couldn't hide, was far more terrifying than a thousand cuts.
But Cui Chan's mind grew clearer. "The sage's teachings, using literature to carry the Dao." The white-clothed youth directed those temporarily masterless golden characters to collide with the waterfall of sword aura.
The golden characters and the sword aura clashed.
There was no sound or spectacle at all. But the more silent they were, the more shocking and suffocating it was.
This was no longer a contest of physical strength or momentum; it was another form of struggle on the Great Dao.
This waterfall was, after all, just a wisp of "extremely small" sword aura.
And those golden characters were only borrowed temporarily.
The two sides were deadlocked, unexpectedly creating a situation of equal strength.
It was like two armies facing off, ending in mutual destruction, with both sides completely annihilated.
After sensing the opportunity, Cui Chan had long stopped waiting to be slaughtered. He carefully sat up, then slowly stood up, finally managing to stand hunched over.
He moved to one side. The mirror tilted instantly, diverting the last of the sword aura to the other side of the well wall. The white-clothed youth casually threw away the ancient mirror. His feet pushed off the ground, and his entire body shot upward. Then his figure vanished in an instant, leaving only a resentful, deep voice echoing in the ancient well: "Even if you have a third sword energy now, you're too late!"
---
Chen Ping'an stood at the well mouth, his hands in the Sword Furnace Stance. After the last sword aura departed, he prepared to meet the enemy with his fist techniques.
That Mountain-Shaking Manual had clearly stated its purpose in the opening preface: "For those who study my Mountain-Shaking Fist in later generations, even if facing the patriarchs of the Three Religions, remember that my fist technique can be weak, the will to win can be lost, but one's fist intent must never retreat!"
---
At the same time.
In the quiet little courtyard, the little girl in the red cotton jacket woke up again in the room. Not from a nightmare this time, but because she was slapped awake by a locust-wood sword.
The drowsy Li Baoping suddenly opened her eyes wide. The wooden sword, which had crashed through the window earlier, quickly carved a character Qi in the air, then whooshed toward the door. Li Baoping leaped out of bed with lightning speed, not even bothering with shoes. She ran barefoot, opened the door, and followed the wooden sword to her Little Master's room. Since Chen Ping'an hadn't returned, the door wasn't locked. Earlier, the flying sword had burst it open. Li Baoping now rushed in after the flying sword, watching it point at the backpack.
Under the flying sword's repeated pointing, Li Baoping finally took out a seal that her Little Master had hidden. Opening it, she found it was that "Quiet Mind and Attain Meaning" seal that her Little Master had only shown her in secret once. The flying sword then nodded vigorously and shot swiftly out of the room.
The little girl gripped this seal that her master had given to her Little Master—this "Quiet" character seal. She followed the locust-wood sword, which had inexplicably appeared in the backpack, all the way to the pavilion. She nimbly vaulted over the pavilion and ran toward the well mouth where her Little Master stood.
In an instant, the seal in Li Baoping's hand broke free from her palm, shooting swiftly toward the well mouth. It soared above her Little Master's head, then came down with a dull, heavy *thwack*.
Above the well mouth, a voice screamed in agony: "Another one? Qi Jingchun, fuck your ancestors! You persistent ghost, haven't you had enough?!"
A white-clothed youth, who had inexplicably appeared above the well mouth, was struck square on the forehead by that seal. He flew backward and crashed to the ground.
All his cultivation drained away. Just before he passed out, he muttered, "Qi Jingchun, you're ruthless. I concede."