Chapter 154: The Old Scholar Sits and Discusses the Way

Chapter 154: The Old Scholar Sits and Discusses the Way

When the old scholar stepped out of the landscape scroll again, he saw the youth Cui Chan still lying on the ground playing dead. He snorted, "What a disgrace."

Cui Chan stared blankly at the sky, "Living without any hope, might as well be dead."

The old scholar walked over and kicked him, "Stop pretending to be pitiful here. Don't you want to know why Xiao Qi only made you fall in realm instead of getting rid of you completely?"

Cui Chan's gaze was dazed as he muttered, "Back then when you were expelled from the Confucian Temple, not only was Qi Jingchun not implicated by you, he actually continued to rise in realm. That already spoke volumes. Qi Jingchun long had the qualifications to establish his own sect. Your Literary Sage lineage had long been estranged in spirit while united in appearance. So he felt he had no right to kill me, hoping that you would clean house in the future."

The old scholar was furious at his lack of ambition and kicked him again, "Judging a gentleman's heart with a petty man's measure—that's exactly the kind of person you are! I'll count to three. If you still don't get up, you can just lie there and wait to die. Don't even dream about the Great Way anymore. Three! Two! Two, two..."

Cui Chan was determined not to get up.

This left the old scholar terribly embarrassed. He had no choice but to turn to Chen Ping'an and signal him with his eyes to help save the situation.

Chen Ping'an nodded. He took the locust wood sword from Li Baoping and strode forward. When he reached Cui Chan's side, he expressionlessly uttered the word "one" and then stabbed straight down at the white-clad youth's neck.

The strike was heavy and powerful, the sword tip precise. Perhaps Chen Ping'an himself didn't realize that after understanding the state of "heart stability" within the scroll, his hands could finally keep up with his mind's flow. So this thrust carried no aura of worldly strife, yet it was all the more fierce, ruthless, and full of killing intent.

It scared Cui Chan so much that he scrambled to his feet in haste.

Chen Ping'an sheathed his sword and nodded to the old scholar, as if to say, "Old sir, your urgent problem has been solved."

The old scholar sighed and looked at Chen Ping'an and the white-clad woman not far away. "Find a place. I have some things to say."

He turned and glared at Cui Chan. "Follow me! This concerns your Great Way opportunity. If you put on airs again, I'll just have Chen Ping'an cut you down with one stroke and be done with it."

The group headed toward the courtyard. The old scholar looked around, glancing at the "small canopy" supported by that snowy white lotus leaf. He pinched his fingers in a gesture, hesitated for a moment, then said, "Let's find a room to talk. Chen Ping'an, is there a suitable place? Anywhere we can speak will do. Stools and chairs don't matter."

Chen Ping'an glanced at Lin Shouyi's main room. The lamp was already out. Probably Lin Shouyi had exhausted himself cultivating in the pavilion and was now resting. Chen Ping'an had to give up on that largest room. He nodded to the old man. "Let's go to my room. There's only a child named Li Huai sleeping there. Waking him shouldn't be a big problem. Lin Shouyi is a cultivator and probably has many taboos, so we shouldn't disturb him."

The sword spirit sat on a stone bench in the courtyard and smiled. "You all talk. I don't care to listen to that."

In the end, the old scholar, Chen Ping'an, the youth Cui Chan, and Li Baoping sat down on four stools around a table. Li Huai lay on the bed in deep slumber. He was a child with poor sleeping habits, now lying sideways with his head hanging off the edge of the bed, yet still sleeping soundly.

Chen Ping'an, familiar with the routine, straightened his body, tucked Li Huai's hands and feet under the blanket, and gently tucked in the corners on both sides and at the foot so that the warmth inside wouldn't escape. In the end, Li Huai was wrapped up like a zongzi.

After doing these natural things, Chen Ping'an returned to his stool. Li Baoping asked softly, "Little Uncle-Master, do you also tuck me in every night?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Not for you. Your sleeping posture is much better than Li Huai's. You fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, and then you lie perfectly still until dawn."

Li Baoping sighed and struck her palm with her fist in regret. "I should have developed bad sleeping habits from childhood. It's all my big brother's fault for tricking me into believing that good sleeping posture brings good dreams."

Chen Ping'an chuckled. "When I return to our hometown, I should thank your big brother properly."

During the entire journey, the family member Li Baoping spoke of most was this big brother, so Chen Ping'an had a good impression of this scholar who liked to hide in his study and read.

The old scholar looked at the little girl and asked with a smile, "Is your big brother Li Xisheng from Fortune Street?"

Li Baoping nodded and asked suspiciously, "What about him?"

The old scholar chuckled. "That's a rather big name he's been given."

When Cui Chan heard this, he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Li Baoping grew worried. "Is having too big a name a bad thing?"

The old scholar laughed even more heartily and shook his head. "If the name is big, as long as one can bear it, then it's good."

Li Baoping, a girl who loved to delve into details, asked, "Old sir, how does one determine if they can bear it?"

Cui Chan rolled his eyes again. Oh no, this was exactly what the old man wanted—someone to teach and preach to.

Sure enough, the old man glanced around, didn't see any snacks to go with his wine, sighed regretfully, and slowly said, "If one has a pure and kind nature, great learning, high moral character, and has traveled ten thousand miles, then they can bear it."

The little girl put the seal on the table, shook her body, kicked off her little straw shoes, crossed her legs on the chair, wrapped her arms around her chest, and said with a troubled expression, "But my big brother isn't as remarkable as you say, old sir. Should I write home and tell him to change his name?"

Cui Chan had to speak up. "Old man, can we get to business? The Great Way! The Great Way!"

Li Baoping silently picked up the seal and breathed on the four seal-script characters on the bottom.

Cui Chan immediately shut up.

Even though the old man had extraordinary cultivation, he was ultimately a man who liked reason, so shameless tactics might work.

But Chen Ping'an and Li Baoping—these two chosen by Qi Jingchun—one was an uneducated mud-legged peasant, the other was a bookworm who had read everything ten thousand miles off. Now that Cui Chan was a dragon stranded in shallow waters, at the mercy of shrimp and fish, he was utterly useless against this big-and-small pair. Beatings and humiliation were the only results. The stiffer his backbone, the more he suffered.

The old scholar conjured a flask of wine, took a small sip, glanced at the seal the girl had put back on the table, and felt some sadness.

Cui Chan actually had quite a few questions tonight. Although the old man had occasionally shown true emotions before, most of the time he was a rigid and pedantic fellow. Wherever he sat, it was like a gilded deity sitting on an altar. Especially during those years when his learning was most revered at court and among the people, whenever the old man gave lectures or clarified classics and doubts, the "students" sitting solemnly below and listening intently numbered over a thousand? Emperors, generals, mountain immortals, gentlemen, and sages—a magnificent assembly. Even Cui Chan, who had betrayed his master, couldn't deny that back then, the old man was dazzling, like the sun and moon hanging in the sky, shining day and night, dimming the stars of the entire galaxy.

But now he even kicked him twice, and when talking about the Great Way, he actually drank wine?

Cui Chan appeared indifferent, but inwardly he was heavy-hearted.

After all, Cui Chan's feelings for the old man beside him were extremely complex—both worship and hatred, both fear and nostalgia. He, Cui Chan, the former lead disciple of the Literary Sage, had never failed to feel anger at his master's lack of ambition and sorrow at his misfortune?

From the bed, Li Huai talked in his sleep: "A Liang, A Liang, I want meat! Stingy A Liang, just let me have a sip of wine from your little gourd..."

Li Baoping's eyes lit up. This embarrassing incident of Li Huai's would be great gossip for days.

When Cui Chan heard the name A Liang, he secretly glanced sideways at the old man.

The old scholar coughed and looked at the three seated ones. "Alright, let's get to the main topic. Chen Ping'an, Li Baoping, you should already know that I am Qi Jingchun's master. As for Cui Chan, he was once my lead disciple, Qi Jingchun's senior brother. Back then, because I was busy with my studies, it was indeed my chief disciple Cui Chan who taught Qi Jingchun how to read and play chess on my behalf. In the end, Cui Chan betrayed the sect and committed all kinds of acts of betraying his master and destroying the teachings. To the point that even Qi Jingchun's death in the Pearl Grotto-Heaven—Cui Chan was a player in the mid-game of that chess game. To say that he Cui Chan is the murderer of his junior brother Qi Jingchun is not an exaggeration. The same goes for Ma Zhan, one of my nominal disciples. Except Ma Zhan wasn't a player, but he was a key 'unreasonable move' in the opening game orchestrated by the real culprit. Before I arrived at your hometown town, this body was merely a vessel for Cui Chan's parasitic dwelling. The real Cui Chan is the State Preceptor of your Great Li Dynasty—an old fellow not much younger than me."

Li Baoping's face was full of anger. Her eyes reddened as she glared at Cui Chan.

In contrast, Chen Ping'an made Cui Chan even more terrified. His gaze was lowered, his expression unreadable.

A biting wild dog doesn't show its teeth.

Cui Chan knew Chen Ping'an's temperament all too well. After all, he had paid more attention than Old Yang to the growth of the Mud Vase Alley youth.

Cui Chan tried to stay calm, but inwardly he chanted, "We're dead, we're dead. Old man, you're bringing disaster upon us."

The old scholar changed the topic and looked at Chen Ping'an. "There's something I need to ask you first. If you agree, I want to extract a stretch of your time stream. Don't worry, it won't involve too much privacy. This will serve as the opening for tonight's conversation. Are you willing?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "I can do that."

The old scholar extended a palm toward Chen Ping'an, who was sitting opposite him. He flicked his wrist and rolled up his sleeve. Soon, strands of mist emerged around Chen Ping'an, slowly flowing toward the old man's palm, eventually coalescing into a crystal-clear, dark green water orb. The old man flipped his hand, palm down, and gently wiped it over the water orb. The water flowed downward to the tabletop, where one vivid scene after another appeared.

Li Baoping's eyes widened in shock. She quickly leaned over the table. "Wow, Little Uncle-Master, that's the mountain path where we met the bride-dress ghost girl! And there I am! Haha, my little book box is the prettiest. Sure enough, it's better than Lin Shouyi's and Li Huai's. They look so dumb carrying their book boxes..."

The scene showed the bride-dress ghost girl holding an oil-paper umbrella appearing on the muddy path, lanterns lighting up one by one, and a spectacular fire dragon forming across the wilderness.

Then Lin Shouyi cast talismans but still encountered a ghostly maze. Instead of leaving the ghost girl's territory, they were lured to that mansion with the plaque reading "Beautiful Waters and Lofty Wind."

Finally, Wei Jin of the Snow Wind Temple, a sword immortal, broke all methods with one sword strike, arrived gracefully, broke the deadlock, and successfully led the group away.

The old scholar grabbed at the table, and that stretch of time stream gathered back into a ball. He pushed it back toward Chen Ping'an, where it dissipated and returned to heaven and earth.

This move, involving the primordial power of the Great Way's origin, did not rely on the saint's small world or any mystical artifacts. The old man simply performed it as if picking up a piece of lint.

Li Baoping found it fascinating and amusing.

But Cui Chan knew what he was seeing. He grew more astonished inwardly. What was going on with this old man? He clearly had lost all of his sage cultivation, so how could he still be so immensely powerful?

The old scholar said softly, "Is this ghost girl hateful? Of course she is. She killed innocents indiscriminately, with a long list of crimes. Is she pitiable? There is some pity too. As a ghostly spirit, she originally had a kind nature. To the court, she had the merit of suppressing fate; to the locals, she performed many good deeds. She even fell in love with a scholar. It should have been a beautiful story. In the end, both of them fell to such a state, hated by gods and spirits, squeezed out by the Great Way, entangled in endless karma, dragging mud and water everywhere—an unpayable, muddled debt for several lifetimes."

The old scholar sighed. "So, the hateful always have something pitiable about them, isn't that right?"

Cui Chan felt like he was facing a great enemy and dared neither nod nor shake his head.

Li Baoping quickly entered her "go up the mountain and kill the blocking tiger" mode. After thinking seriously for a moment, she said, "More hateful."

The old scholar nodded to the little girl with a smile. "So, hateful and pitiable—how much more hateful? How much more pitiable?"

The little girl thought again carefully. "According to reason, emotion, and law, if we go back and calculate carefully?"

The old scholar asked again with a sly smile, "Li Baoping, 'according to law'—that's certainly not bad. But then the question arises: how do you determine whether the laws of the world are good laws or evil laws?"

The little girl was stunned, as if she had never considered this question. But she wasn't intimidated. She said to the old man, "Old sir, give me a moment! This question, like the one Little Uncle-Master asked last time, is a bit big. I need to think carefully!"

The old scholar smiled kindly and praised, "Good."

Cui Chan looked at the old man's familiar smile and at the little girl with her serious expression, and snorted coldly.

As expected of Qi Jingchun's master and Qi Jingchun's proud disciple—the torch was passed, the lineage was inherited, even the atmosphere of teaching was exactly the same!

After stumping the little girl, the old scholar turned to Chen Ping'an, whose eyes were clear. "When I used to study difficult questions, I liked to consider the worst-case scenario first. Today is no different. 'The hateful always have something pitiable'—this phrase itself isn't too problematic. But many people in the world who think themselves clever like to put on an air of 'all the world is drunk while I alone am sober.' They only talk about the pitiable parts and deliberately omit the hateful ones."

"Some people are purely overflowing with misplaced compassion and sympathy. Since the 'hateful parts' haven't affected them personally, they don't feel the pain as much. Instead, they like to point fingers, stand by with folded arms, and demand that others simply be lenient. Chen Ping'an, what do you think the root of the problem is? You should know that many of the people I mentioned have read many books and have no small amount of learning. Some might even be experts at empty talk. Chen Ping'an, do you have any thoughts? Speak freely—whatever comes to mind."

Chen Ping'an seemed about to speak, then stopped. Finally, he said, "I have nothing to say."

Cui Chan no longer cared about Chen Ping'an's answer. He began silently deducing, wondering why the old man was saying all this.

The old scholar glanced at Li Baoping and Cui Chan on either side and spoke slowly. "Merits and faults are weighed by human hearts; good and evil are measured by the King of Hell. Why is this said? Because everyone's moral cultivation, life experiences, horizons, and experience are different. Human hearts rise and fall. How many people dare to claim that their conscience is the most balanced and upright?"

"So the Legalists took a shortcut. They dragged morality and ritual down to the lowest line. Here, it's only this high—it can't go any lower."

As he spoke, the old man extended a hand and drew a line below the table.

"Of course, these laws, as I said earlier, have the potential to be 'evil laws.' I won't elaborate further on this, or it would take three days and three nights to finish. So, in the end, the law is dead; the human heart is alive. Without people to enforce it, the law is deader than dead. Hence, we still need to seek solutions upward."

At this point, the old scholar stretched out a hand and pointed toward the roof.

He turned to look at Cui Chan. "Do you know why I answered so quickly back then when you raised that question?"

He was poking at a sore spot.

Cui Chan said angrily, "Because you liked and valued Qi Jingchun more. You thought my learning was just crumpled paper in the wastebasket. Even if you, the Literary Sage, smoothed it out and flattened it, you'd find it dirty to touch!"

The old man shook his head. "Because I had been thinking about that question for many years before you ever asked it. No matter how I deduced, I always reached only one conclusion: 'A thousand-mile dike collapses because of an ant nest; a flood spills over and becomes unstoppable.' Not only does it fail to treat the root cause, but also, when your foundation of learning isn't solid enough, this discipline, well-intentioned as it is, will have major problems. Like a tall building: the more magnificent and beautiful you build it, if the foundation is unstable, a strong wind will topple it, hurting even more people."

Cui Chan was stunned on the spot, but he was still somewhat unconvinced.

The old man sighed helplessly. "You need to understand: our Confucian orthodoxy has its illnesses. It is not perfect. So many rules, as time passes, cannot be a one-time solution that lasts for ten thousand generations. That's normal. If the earliest speakers got everything most right and best, what would later generations do? Why seek learning at all?"

"The Ultimate Sage Teacher's method is the most general and the purest. Hence, it is gentle and beneficial—a dietary supplement with a hundred benefits and no harm. But the premise of dietary supplements is that everyone eats the 'Confucian' grain, right?"

"But sometimes, like a person whose bodily functions decline due to age or exposure to wind and sun, they get sick. Dietary supplements can neither take immediate effect nor save a life. This requires medicinal supplements."

"But medicine has three parts poison—it requires extreme caution. Even the ancient sages only dared to say which grasses were medicine and which were poison after tasting a hundred herbs."

"You, Cui Chan, are so impatient. Are you really willing to put in that effort? Your junior brother Qi Jingchun warned you many times: you are too clever, your heart is higher than the sky. You never like to work at the low level. How can that do? If you were a child playing around, just wanting to be a mountain lord of an academy or a grand libationer of a school, then even if the river channel you dug had a thousand holes in the dike, when the flood breaks through, someone could still save it. But if your learning becomes mainstream within Confucian orthodoxy and problems arise, who will save it? Me? Or Ritual Sage? Or the Ultimate Sage Teacher? Even if those few step in to save it, how can you be sure that the saints of Buddhism and Daoism won't meddle? Won't turn this Righteous World into a place to spread the teachings of their two religions?"

Cui Chan still refused to concede.

The old scholar looked a bit weary. "This discipline of 'achievements and merits' of yours—I thought of it earlier, but you delved into it and went further than I did. Eventually, I was also tempted. I thought, maybe it's worth a try. So that 'Three-Four Debate' that was truly hidden behind the scenes took place in two major empires of the Central Continent, each promoting 'Ritual and Music' versus 'Achievements and Merits.' Then, after sixty years, we would see who won. Of course, the world knows the outcome: I lost. So I had no choice but to imprison myself in the Merit Forest."

Cui Chan's face showed utter disbelief. He suddenly stood up. "You're lying!"

The old man said calmly, "Did you forget again? When debating and arguing, one's own mentality must be balanced and upright. Do not act on impulse."

Cui Chan slumped back onto his stool in a daze and murmured, "How could you bet on that? How could I have lost..."

The old scholar turned to look toward the courtyard. "Be careful. Don't, for heaven's sake, take this lightly."

The tall woman replied lazily, "I know."

Only then did the old scholar take a big gulp of wine, laughing at himself. "Drowning sorrows in wine is also true; wine gives a coward courage, even more so."

He put down the flask, straightened his lapel, and said slowly, "Ritual Sage wrote two characters all over our Righteous World. Cui Chan, how do you interpret that?"

Cui Chan answered almost subconsciously, "Order!"

The moment the words left his mouth, he was filled with regret and chagrin.

The old man's expression was solemn and dignified. He nodded and said heavily, "Correct. Etiquette and rules—that is order. The second sage within our Confucian orthodoxy, Ritual Sage, pursues an order. All things in the world are to be arranged properly and follow rules. These rules were painstakingly 'snatched back' from the Great Way, one horizontal line, one vertical line at a time, by Ritual Sage. This built a 'broken thatched hut,' as he himself jokingly calls it, to shelter the common people from wind and rain. The hut is huge—so huge that almost all people, in their entire lifetimes, no matter how deep their learning, can never reach its walls. So huge that no cultivator, no matter how high their cultivation, can touch its roof. This is the freedom and security of all living beings."

Cui Chan sneered, "Then what about Qi Jingchun? His learning touched the roof. What about A Liang? His cultivation hit the walls. What should they do then? What should these people, these favored children of the world, do? Why shouldn't they walk their own paths, open that door built by Lord Ritual Sage, and go elsewhere to build a brand-new thatched hut?!"

As he spoke, Cui Chan subconsciously pointed at the door of the room.

At this moment, the white-clad youth was sharp-edged and imposing.

It was evident that Cui Chan had involuntarily thrown himself into the discussion, perhaps not just the thoughts of the youth Cui Chan, but also the subconscious of the complete Cui Chan deep in his soul.

The old man smiled. "Pursue the absolute freedom in your hearts? That's fine. But what guarantee do you have that you will ultimately walk through that door, rather than smashing the wall or breaking through the roof? Making this thatched hut, which originally sheltered you from wind and rain and allowed you to grow to that height, suddenly unstable and leaky on all sides?"

Cui Chan laughed loudly, "Old man, you yourself said it's absolute freedom! Why bother with that? What right do you have to decide that the new house we build after breaking the old one won't be larger and more stable than before?"

The old man smiled. "Oh? So we're back to my original point? You, Cui Chan, can't even break out of my mold, and you want to break Ritual Sage's order?"

Cui Chan shouted angrily, "How is that human nature being evil? You're talking nonsense, old man!"

The old man said calmly, "Don't ask me about this. I'll give you a break. Use this rare, thousand-year opportunity with your soul intact, and ask your own heart."

Cui Chan stood as dumb as a wooden chicken.

Finally, it was as if only the old scholar and Chen Ping'an remained between heaven and earth—one old, one young, sitting across from each other.

The old man smiled. "Ritual Sage wants order. Everyone understands rules. He hopes everyone follows the rules. Then the wandering scholars who spread learning became aristocrats, giving rise to the learning of 'emperor's teachers.' Later came the imperial examinations, which recruited the poor and the humble, teaching without discrimination, providing the possibility for carp to leap over the dragon gate. No longer would the humble lack noble sons. Rules—comprehensive, laborious, and the more time passes, the more human hearts drift, the more thankless the task. Human nature is evil. People who fill their bellies and then curse the cook—how many are there in this world?"

The old man looked up at the youth. "So now, I am searching for two characters: 'sequence.'"

He muttered to himself, "I just want to sort out a sequence for all things and events in the world. For example, that hateful-pitiable issue—where does the crux lie? It lies in the fact that Ritual Sage has already taught the world enough standards for judging 'hateful' and 'pitiable,' but the world still doesn't understand 'order of priority' well enough. You haven't even sorted out 'hateful,' and you run off to care about 'pitiable'—how can that work? Right?"

Chen Ping'an nodded.

The old man asked with a smile, "Just hearing it, doesn't 'sequence' sound far inferior to 'order'?"

Chen Ping'an frowned deeply.

The old man laughed heartily, not caring how much the youth could understand. He drank some wine, contentedly. "If these two characters were placed within Ritual Sage's broken thatched hut, they would only be patching up. At best, I would be a repairman of morality and ritual. But if I put these two characters into a far more vast and expansive place, then that would be something else entirely."

Chen Ping'an asked, "Where?"

The old man lifted the wine flask, placed it in the center of the table, then spread his palm and wiped it heavily across the table. "From this perspective, this broken thatched hut of a wine flask is merely a resting spot along the river of time. But—"

He paused briefly, then smiled. "What is the landscape of this river of time? The key depends on the riverbed. Although the two complement each other, there is indeed a 'law of action.' The world has many sayings: 'Go with the flow,' 'Act according to the situation.' So I want to give it a try."

Chen Ping'an asked, "Ritual Sage wants people to live safely within the rules, sometimes having to sacrifice the 'absolute freedom' of a small number... And you, old sir, want everyone to follow your sequence and walk forward on the Great Way you have drawn?"

The old man smiled and added, "Don't think I'm overstepping. My sequence will not go too far. I only exert effort at the source of the Great Way. After that, the water diverges, each stream flows into the sea, or they merge midway. Whether they become lakes or continue flowing—that is each one's own freedom."

The old man leaned forward, took out the wine flask, drank a mouthful, and asked with a smile, "Chen Ping'an, what do you think? Are you willing to follow Qi Jingchun's arrangement and become my disciple?"

Chen Ping'an appeared for the second time as if he wanted to speak but hesitated.

The old man's expression was smiling and kind. He repeated, "Just say what comes to mind. Don't worry about right or wrong. There's no outsider here."

The youth took a deep breath, straightened his back, placed his fists on his knees, and said methodically, "Because I haven't truly studied. What Ritual Sage's order is, I don't understand. Your sequence, old sir, I can't grasp the essence of it at all."

The old man smiled. "Go on. Speak boldly. In my life, I've seen the worst people and the most terrible things in the world. My temper has been well-honed."

Chen Ping'an's eyes grew brighter. "In the town, I killed Cai Jinjian for myself. For my friend Liu Xianyang, I fought the Mountain Moving Ape to the death. Later, I agreed to Mr. Qi to escort Li Baoping and the others to study. Later, I agreed to the immortal sister to become a Qi Practitioner. These things, I did with peace of mind. I nodded, went ahead, and didn't need to think much."

He continued, "Earlier, you said a lot, old sir. I listened carefully. After thinking about some things, I felt they made sense. For instance, about the hateful-pitiable—I found it very correct. The sequence can't be wrong. So then I wanted to say: that bride-dress ghost girl—I wanted to kill her then, I want to kill her even more now, and I will definitely kill her in the future. I want to tell her that no matter how much grievance she has, it's not an excuse to inflict her pain on innocent people. I want to tell her face to face: you have your pitiable side, but you deserve to die!"

At this moment, the Mud Vase Alley youth, who usually gave off a mild temperament, was unbearably sharp.

Chen Ping'an's tone grew even firmer. "But those things I can't figure out—things I might never be able to think about that far—I won't take them into my own hands. Because if even I myself feel I can't do it, why should I promise others? Just because I'm embarrassed to say no? Because not promising would disappoint others? The answer is simple: if you promise and never have the confidence to do it, and in the end you fail, won't that be even more disappointing?"

The old scholar restrained his smile, his face serious. He was slightly lost in thought for a moment, then habitually extended two fingers as if picking up a peanut from a dish.

In the small courtyard, the tall woman narrowed her eyes and smiled.

Earlier, she had deliberately put on a sorrowful and hurt demeanor, and the youth had righteously refused her.

If it had been Ma Kuxuan or Xie Shi or Cao Xi?

For a girl he had known for only a month and who was now far away, would he risk angering a sword spirit who had lived ten thousand years and would need to rely on him from now on?

Was this a small matter?

It was a small matter.

But it was absolutely not a small matter.

The struggle for the Great Way, spanning endless years—some subtle moments of questioning one's heart are too terrifying. That is the most unpredictable and treacherous ground.

Whenever a Qi Practitioner's cultivation is higher and they draw closer to the canopy, any flaw in their state of mind will be magnified infinitely. For example, if the Dao Ancestor had a flaw the size of a mustard seed, once turned into reality, the gap might be even larger than the hole stabbed through the Yellow River Grotto-Heaven by a single sword.

Take that seemingly trivial stretch of the river of time: if that child from Mud Vase Alley, under the 'kind' invitation of a vendor, had taken that free candied hawthorn stick, happily eaten it, run back to his ancestral home in Mud Vase Alley, finished the stick cleanly, thrown away the bamboo skewer casually—nothing seemed to happen. But did nothing really happen?

Could the youth Chen Ping'an have today's fortune?

Inside the room, Chen Ping'an looked at the old man. "Even if Mr. Qi wanted me to do something, if I felt I couldn't do it, I still wouldn't agree. Just like some things—if I've thought them through carefully and still think they're wrong, then even if someone holds a knife to my throat, I'll still tell him, no matter who he is: this is wrong."

The youth's tone was very calm.

Chen Ping'an concluded, "I'm simply not the kind of person who can take a discipline to great distances. For me, reading and learning characters is a very simple thing: to write Spring Festival couplets, to paste them on my door, to write tombstones for my parents in the future. At most, I read to learn some principles of life. I definitely don't have too many grand ideas. So, old sir, I will not become your disciple."

Cui Chan listened, his face pale, sweat streaming down.

Even Li Baoping sensed something was wrong. She stealthily picked up the seal from the table, ready to use it to smack someone—whether the villain Cui Chan or the master's master, she didn't care. In this world, Little Uncle-Master was the most important.

The old man just asked kindly, "Is this what you think now, right? If in the future you feel you were wrong, will you change your mind and come back to beg me to take you as a disciple?"

Chen Ping'an answered without hesitation, "Of course! But if by then you are unwilling to take me as a student, I won't force it. I'll probably regret it, but not too much."

The old man looked strange. "I, a Literary Sage, once ranked among the foremost sages in the Confucian Temple, want to take you as my final disciple. What great fortune! A good thing, a great opportunity, suddenly falls on your head. Shouldn't you quickly accept it, put it in your pocket to feel safe? If there's a problem, your master will shield you. What are you afraid of? It looks like a one-hundred-percent beneficial thing with no harm."

Chen Ping'an suddenly said a sentence. "Some things that go against your heart—don't take even one step."

The old man sighed deeply. "Since the time isn't right, I won't force you."

He then smiled. "Though we can't be master and disciple, this old fellow is disappointed. But I imagine Qi Jingchun is not disappointed at all. Such a stubborn Chen Ping'an—very much like Qi Jingchun in his youth. Perhaps that's why he was willing to bow back to you in that alley back then."

Chen Ping'an listened in bewilderment.

The old scholar slowly stood up and looked at the three children. "Sitting and discussing the Way is a very good thing."

He laughed. "But don't forget: rising and practicing it is even more important. Otherwise, all moral essays have no place to stand."

The old man suddenly began to take great pleasure in himself, his face beaming. He clasped his hands behind his back, swayed his head, and walked out of the room, clicking his tongue. "The old scholar sits and discusses the Way; the young man rises and practices it. Good! Very good!"

Li Baoping shouted angrily, "Only the young man? What about me?!"

The old man opened the door and laughed heartily, "Right, right, right! And Li Baoping, the little girl from Baoping Continent!"

Chen Ping'an thought to himself: "Sitting and discussing the Way, rising and practicing it. This principle is well said. I need to remember it."

The youth Cui Chan sat blankly on the spot. Suddenly, he shuddered, snapped back to reality, and hastily stood up to bow to Chen Ping'an. "Master!"

Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "You again?"

Cui Chan grinned cheekily and teased, "Master, when you wanted to kill me earlier, were you planning to avoid paying back the debt? Several thousand taels of silver, you know."

Chen Ping'an said calmly, "If you had been killed by me tonight, as long as I have silver in the future, I would definitely build you a tomb worth two thousand taels."

Cui Chan's face was awkward. Finally, he choked out only one sentence, "Thank you very much."