Chapter 161: Mountains and Rivers Must Part Ways

Chapter 161: Mountains and Rivers Must Part Ways

The carriage gifted by Gao Xuan arrived belatedly, reaching Chen Ping'an's side only in the deepening twilight. The coachman was that pale, beardless old man who had once accompanied the Great Sui Crown Prince to the Li Zhu Cave Heaven, having crossed paths with Chen Ping'an twice before. But unlike Gao Xuan's warm eagerness, the old man's demeanor was cold. After handing over the carriage, he set off on foot back to the capital. The old eunuch turned back to glance at Cui Chan, who was busy appraising the fine steed's magnificent form, clicking his tongue in wonder, seemingly oblivious to the old man's scrutiny.

Cui Chan leaped onto the carriage, taking the reins himself, and waved at Chen Ping'an. "Master, the carriage hasn't been tampered with. We can hit the road without worry."

Cui Chan then slapped himself across the face. "What 'hit the road'? Too ominous. Let's just say travel."

Chen Ping'an looked around. The sky was dark, and because of the capital's night curfew, the official road—normally bustling during the day—was desolate.

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I'll practice walking stance. You drive the carriage. As long as you don't go too fast, I can keep up."

Knowing Chen Ping'an's stubborn nature, Cui Chan wasted no more breath. He drove the carriage forward slowly, took a swig of wine, and sang out loudly and leisurely: "A hundred worries, a thousand cares, in the end all is void. The weather turns cool—what a fine autumn! What a fine autumn!"

Chen Ping'an silently followed behind the carriage, repeatedly practicing the six-step walking stance from the Mountain Collapsing Fist manual. The walking and standing stances were already etched deeply into his mind.

For half the night, Cui Chan rambled incessantly, reciting Confucian classics, poetry, and songs, a motley collection from his never-idle mouth.

Finally, he even chanted, "I have an old donkey, but I never ride it." Hearing this, Chen Ping'an, who had persisted for nearly an hour, exhaled a mouthful of turbid air, stopped his walking stance, and said, "I'll get on and rest for a bit."

Once on the carriage, he placed his bamboo basket in the cabin and noticed a small mountain of jars and bottles piled in the corner. But the light was too dim to make out what they were. Cui Chan, driving, laughed and said, "There are a few jars of fine wine, some Daoist pills for qi cultivation and healing, and even cosmetics. Gao Xuan is quite amusing. To tell the truth, setting aside friend-or-foe camps, even as a crown prince, Gao Xuan is more... eager to be a sage who seeks out the worthy than your friend Song Jixin's younger brother, who was once my disciple."

Chen Ping'an sat behind Cui Chan, turned sideways with his legs dangling outside, and shook his head. "Song Jixin was never my friend."

Cui Chan countered, "Then Song Jixin, who has now changed his name to Song Mu, would be heartbroken. Before he left Mud Vase Alley, Qi Jingchun gave Zhao Yao a seal inscribed 'World Welcomes Spring' and gave Song Jixin six books: three miscellaneous works—'Essential Subtleties' on mathematics, 'Plum and Pear' on chess, and 'Mountains and Seas Strategies' on essays—and three elementary texts chosen by Qi Jingchun himself: 'Rites and Music,' 'Culmination,' and 'Primary Education.' Song Jixin's attitude toward you, Master, is quite complex. To ease his conscience, he left the latter three books on the table in his house before departing, intending them as a gift for you, Chen Ping'an. But the complexity of the human heart lies in this: Song Jixin knew full well that even if you got the key to the courtyard that had been thrown into your yard, you would never take the books without permission. Yet he still got over his own little hurdle. Master, isn't this fellow clever?"

Cui Chan had revealed many unknown secrets, but one thing he did not say aloud.

He suspected that the matter of the books had actually been anticipated by Qi Jingchun long ago—that Song Jixin would look down on those three elementary texts and choose to leave them for Chen Ping'an.

In matters of chess, layout, and mind reading, Cui Chan had once thought himself far superior to Qi Jingchun. Looking back now, he knew he had been completely wrong.

Chen Ping'an said quietly, "Song Jixin has always been clever."

Cui Chan asked curiously, "Your relationship with him is so strained because he tricked you into breaking an oath?"

Chen Ping'an said nothing.

Cui Chan smiled. "Don't blame me for being nosy, nor am I deliberately trying to exonerate Song Jixin. I'll just tell you a fact, right or wrong: Song Jixin had his reasons for this matter. The reasoning is simple. Song Jixin ate well, dressed well, and lived well—in every way better than you, Master. Later, he even had a maidservant to attend to him. He excelled in reading, chess, and calligraphy. But precisely because of this, a certain knot in his heart grew larger."

Chen Ping'an finally spoke. "At the time, he was mistaken for the illegitimate son of the supervising official. The neighbors all whispered behind his back, saying vicious things."

Cui Chan nodded. "Right. So every day, Song Jixin looked at a person like you and thought, 'Why does Chen Ping'an, a starving, ragged little brat, at least get to have parents, while I, Song Jixin, have none? I don't even know my mother's surname or given name?'"

Cui Chan shook his head. "What bothered Song Jixin most was that, despite your miserable background, in his eyes, you seemed to live every day happier than he did. You ate your fill, slept soundly, woke up and got to work. This drove Song Jixin crazy with envy, made him thoroughly uncomfortable. So, because he was uncomfortable, he wanted to make you uncomfortable. He knew what you valued most, so he wanted to take it away from you."

Chen Ping'an recalled that rainy night in Mud Vase Alley, the first time he had ever wanted to kill someone. Song Jixin had almost been choked to death against the wall by him.

Liu Xianyang, who had sneaked out of the kiln with him, might have been hiding in the distance and accidentally witnessed that scene. For the next month, Liu Xianyang hardly dared to speak to him, which bothered Chen Ping'an for a long time.

Cui Chan mused to himself, "The childish temperament of some people gives rise to things that are both terrifying and ridiculous, both hateful and pitiable. Because it's not just children who have childish temperaments. Many figures of high authority are as absurdly immature as children when it comes to certain major matters."

Chen Ping'an held the Sword Furnace Stance with both hands, not practicing but doing so purely out of habit. He said calmly, "Of course I hate Song Jixin for that matter, but what truly made me dislike him isn't that."

Cui Chan was greatly surprised and couldn't help turning around to ask, "How so?"

Chen Ping'an said slowly, "When Liu Xianyang was almost beaten to death that time, Song Jixin actually crouched on the wall, fanning the flames, hoping Liu Xianyang would be beaten to death. A person like that is... very frightening."

Cui Chan fell silent.

Chen Ping'an looked up into the distance. "In my hometown, there's a saying: 'A bystander doesn't feel the weight of the load.' I don't think there's anything wrong with that. But if someone, just because they think it's fun, goes so far as to add stones to another person's load, how can you be friends with someone like that?"

Cui Chan joked, "Song Jixin didn't add stones to your load. In fact, deep down, Song Jixin probably wanted very much to be your friend. Because he's clever enough to know exactly what kind of people to befriend. For instance, he looks down on Zhao Yao as less clever than himself, yet he still builds relationships and acts friendly."

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I don't like people like that."

Cui Chan suddenly spoke a sincere, heartfelt truth. "People like you will also be disliked by many in the future."

Chen Ping'an laughed. "Why would I need so many people to like me? One person fed, the whole family's taken care of. I don't want anything from others."

Cui Chan turned around and gave Chen Ping'an a thumbs-up. "Master, you're like a cliff a thousand fathoms high—desireless, therefore strong! This student admires you deeply!"

Chen Ping'an said softly, "I know you're trying to pry information out of me, to ferret out things I don't know. But it doesn't matter. Saying all this has made me feel better."

Cui Chan chuckled. "Master, you're wise but appear foolish. I am foolish but appear wise. We can exchange knowledge, and if we join forces in the future, we'll surely be invincible under heaven."

Chen Ping'an suddenly asked, "Do you know A Liang? That bit about the old donkey—A Liang used to hum it before."

Cui Chan's expression changed slightly. He grunted in affirmation. "I've known him for a long time. Even earlier than Qi Jingchun did. Earlier than Ma Zhan, Mao Xiaodong, and the like. When I was drinking alone with the old man, they were probably still playing in the mud somewhere."

The moon was bright, the stars sparse, a clear breeze brushing the face.

The white-clad youth with the mole between his brows wore a faint melancholy on his flawless face. He smiled bitterly. "After I left my hometown, I traveled far to study, just like you. But I traveled much farther than you. Because I was arrogant and proud, I eventually suffered a great humiliation. In a fit of anger, I became a disciple of the old scholar. At the time, the old scholar had little reputation, and his teachings were regarded as heretical. So I was his first disciple."

"Zuo—that one, Qi Jingchun—these people gradually came under the old man's tutelage as his inner disciples. Actually, there weren't many. The old scholar was the type who wanted to explain everything in painstaking detail. When teaching a principle, what could be explained in a few words would take him a whole day. He simply didn't have the energy to take on too many close disciples. He had more nominal disciples. As for those who went so far as to call themselves 'dogs under the gate of the Sage of Literature,' they were as numerous as the fish crossing a river—countless."

"And A Liang? He knew the old scholar even earlier than I did. At first, A Liang came to beat up the old scholar. But who was the old scholar? That tongue of his was sharp. Once every sixty years, the three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism held a debate—the most dangerous thing under heaven, bar none! How many Buddha sons and Daoist embryos fell into heterodox paths because of it, becoming pitiful heretics within their own traditions? Their former glory, their later misery—utterly tragic. Before I betrayed my teacher, I proudly put forward my own insights. Wasn't I trying to help... ah, forget it. A hero doesn't boast of past glory. The fact is, only the old scholar had participated in two consecutive debates in history, and what's more, he had won both. Never mind, Master, you don't need to know this for now. Suffice it to say, back then, the old scholar was truly one of a kind. That peerless style, hailed as 'a school of its own, like the bright moon shining alone in the sky,' cannot be appreciated by anyone who isn't a scholar. Do you think it's because the old man only had the humble title of 'scholar' that he was invited into the Confucian Temple and enshrined? And then pushed forward and upward? The small kingdom where the old scholar was from later almost wanted to honor him as 'Ancestor of the Number One Scholar.' But the old scholar refused. He was holding back mischief. What do you think?"

"Anyway, the old man talked A Liang into a daze. The two enemies became the best of drinking buddies. The old scholar's status rose higher and higher; A Liang's cultivation rose higher and higher. They complemented each other, and their relationship was always good. A Liang was closest to me, Qi Jingchun, and that Zuo fellow. A Liang went to great lengths for the three of us—especially for Qi Jingchun and Zuo. He fought battles that shook heaven and earth, epic and stirring!"

At this point, Cui Chan smiled knowingly. "Every time A Liang came back to us, he'd start bragging. Things like, 'I wiped your little brats' asses so hard—I'm truly fierce!' and 'You have no idea, I went to wreak havoc in some sect today, and those fairies were only regretting that their cultivation wasn't high enough to swallow me whole! Ah, favor from beauties is hardest to bear—you're too young to understand.'"

Cui Chan took a drink. "One thing good about A Liang: he never brags. Unlike us scholars."

Cui Chan finished all this in one breath and then, with his back to Chen Ping'an, laughed. "All right. Same as you—I feel much better now."

Chen Ping'an had already closed his eyes, silently practicing the Sword Furnace Stance, but it was clear that he had listened to every word without missing a single one.

Cui Chan's face was calm. "Now that we've talked openly, it doesn't change the fact that I'll still be the bad guy afterward, and you'll still be the good guy."

Chen Ping'an opened his eyes. "I'll get back down to practice walking stance."

Cui Chan laughed loudly. "Sure thing!"

Chen Ping'an jumped off the carriage and continued silently practicing his walking stance at a brisk pace.

Cui Chan gradually stopped smiling. He freed up a hand to finish the last mouthful of wine from his flask. For the first time in a long while, he was somewhat distracted. He murmured, "Chen Ping'an, do you think people like you aren't frightening too?"

A voice came from behind the carriage. "I heard that."

Cui Chan burst into laughter. "Master, you have excellent ears! Truly a martial arts prodigy born once in a thousand years, rare in a hundred! Soon you'll rule the entire martial world and become invincible under heaven!"

The straw-sandaled boy replied dryly, "Thank you very much."

———

On the road home, they passed mountains and rivers again.

The carriage, horse and all, had already been sold—Cui Chan got a thousand five hundred taels for it. He then bought himself a fine book chest and packed all the valuables from the carriage into it.

Compared to the earlier journey of seeking knowledge, Chen Ping'an now had more free time to practice the Mountain Collapsing Fist and use water-grinding effort to refine the qi circulation technique of Eighteen Halts.

As long as it wasn't heavy rain, he would perform his walking stance extra slowly twice a day, as if he were still practicing with Li Baoping and Li Huai.

Beside him would stand that white-clad youth, following him in his forms, his movements even more fluid and divine than Chen Ping'an's.

Whenever they came to a high mountain or a great river, Cui Chan would loudly recite the classics of the sages. Chen Ping'an, though silent, would unconsciously repeat the words in his mind.

They no longer spoke their true hearts like that night on the official road outside the Great Sui capital. More often than not, they went whole days without a word. Occasionally, Cui Chan would slip away from Chen Ping'an's sight, returning in moods either good or bad, and Chen Ping'an never asked.

Thus, amid the unhurried rumble of cartwheels, the nominal master and disciple passed unremarkably from autumn into winter.

The route was completely different from the one they had taken on the way there—Cui Chan had chosen it, and Chen Ping'an had no objection.

Along the way, they happened to witness some bizarre and extraordinary tales; sometimes from a distance, sometimes up close, they left Chen Ping'an, who had traveled from Great Li to Great Sui, still feeling utterly baffled.

By a great lake east of Great Sui, they traveled by night. Under the moonlight, they saw a group of ethereal immortals riding the wind, each holding an enormous iron chain. Then the lake water trembled violently, sending up monstrous waves. The immortals actually raised a massive stone from the lake bed—as large as a mountain peak—hoisting it out of the water and moving it through the air toward their own sect.

Cui Chan explained that among the mountains and waters, there were many objects that gathered the essence of spiritual energy. When immortal forces on the mountains discovered such objects, they liked to use their powers to plunder them, moving them back to their sects and treating them as private treasures to help suppress the fortune of the land. Cui Chan also laughed, saying that this immortal force was relatively conscientious—they worked at night and had invested in quality iron chains. If it had been ordinary immortals, they wouldn't have cared; they'd have just bought cheap iron chains in bulk. And if the peak fell mid-transport and killed mortals, the local officials wouldn't dare to make a fuss. Unless it fell in a big city and couldn't be hidden, the immortal force would just pay a token compensation.

In the towering mountains at the border between Great Sui and Huangting Kingdom, Chen Ping'an saw a huge school of fish shaped like crucian carp migrating along a mountain road, moving in a mighty procession, not hindered even by the mud covering their bodies.

Cui Chan said those were "mountain-crossing carp," which could survive out of water for half a month. These carp had extremely high requirements for lake water quality; once the water in their old habitat deteriorated to the point they couldn't survive, they would immediately move. The more spiritually rich the water source, the better they would thrive. Moreover, one in every ten thousand would produce a golden spiritual creature. Thus, mountain forces generally liked to raise them, using them to detect subtle changes and accurately determine the dissipation of spiritual energy in their sect compounds.

Then, in a bustling prefectural city of Huangting Kingdom, in the middle of a busy market, two young sword cultivators rode flying swords less than half a zhang above the ground, darting swiftly through the crowds as if competing over who had better sword control, completely ignoring the chaos among the pedestrians. Some commoners couldn't dodge in time and were directly pierced by the sharp flying swords, falling to the ground groaning in pain.

When the sword cultivators passed near Chen Ping'an, an old woman stumbled in fright, dodging left and right twice, and happened to run straight into one of the sword-wielders. The young sword cultivator, unwilling to lose to his companion close behind, grew furious at the thought of having to stop and be overtaken, so he simply accelerated forward.

If Chen Ping'an hadn't pulled the old woman aside, she would have been stabbed to death on the spot.

The sword cultivator showed no gratitude; instead, he turned his head and glared at Chen Ping'an.

The two lofty sword cultivators, one after the other, vanished in a flash.

The commoners in the city were terrified, but no one seemed to want to pursue the matter. Even their cursing was only muttered under their breath.

Cui Chan, watching from the sidelines, commented casually, "If they weren't sword cultivators, which are the most precious and rare among all qi refiners, other qi refiners who hadn't reached the middle five realms wouldn't dare to act so arrogantly in a national capital."

After the grateful old woman hurried away, Chen Ping'an turned to look in the direction the two sword cultivators had vanished, his gaze lingering for a long time.

Cui Chan said blandly, "You can't meddle in everything. And even if you could, what would you do? Chase after them and kill those two sword cultivators? They didn't actually kill anyone, from beginning to end. Or reason with them, earnestly admonish them never to act so recklessly again? Even if, by some stretch, your fists were strong enough to force them to agree in words, what would you do once you left and they went back to their old ways? Troubling, isn't it? I find it very troubling."

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I only have this much skill. I won't chase after them."

"I'd rather hope Master would join in the fun. As your student, I've been freeloading the whole way, feeling guilty. At least let me help you solve your problems!" Cui Chan spoke these unpleasant, sarcastic words. Seeing that his master didn't respond, he pressed with a smile, "And when you're skilled enough in the future?"

Chen Ping'an shouldered his large bamboo basket and continued walking. "I'll talk about that when the time comes."

Cui Chan hurried to keep up, grinning as he asked, "Master, when is that day?"

Chen Ping'an replied, "Certainly not tomorrow."

Cui Chan trotted behind him. "If it's the day after tomorrow, that would be great! Your student would be honored to share the glory!"

Chen Ping'an looked up at the sky and suddenly remembered that by the time he returned home, it would be around the New Year. He thought he might as well buy some Spring Festival couplets early. In their hometown of Great Li's Red Candle Town, these things seemed scarce.

Just then, Cui Chan also looked up—but at a tall tower. He let out an "Oh" and the corners of his mouth curled up. "Interesting, very interesting."

Following Cui Chan's gaze, Chen Ping'an saw a towering pavilion that stood out like a single branch in the city. The wind and clouds around it were dark and ominous; faint flashes of lightning flickered within the higher clouds, a stark contrast to the clear weather elsewhere, as if it were about to rain only over that small area.

Cui Chan turned his head and said with a smile, "Master, we absolutely have to join in this excitement! But let me say upfront: if you don't want to go, I'll go alone. You can wait for me at the city gate."

Chen Ping'an wordlessly headed toward the city gate, tossing over his shoulder, "If you're not out by curfew, I'll travel on my own."

Cui Chan's face took on a miserable expression. "Master is truly heartless."

Chen Ping'an, with his back to Cui Chan, raised his arm and extended his middle finger.

Cui Chan immediately changed his expression, waving goodbye to Chen Ping'an. "Master is becoming more and more amusing! This student has rendered great merit!"

Chen Ping'an retracted his middle finger and clenched his fist.

Cui Chan hurriedly bowed. "Master, go slowly!"