Chapter 198: The Young Man Wants to Travel Far
The sage said, "When Heaven is about to confer a great office on any man, it first exercises his mind with suffering, and his sinews and bones with toil."
Wei Bo visited Fallen Mountain almost every day, bringing precious medicinal herbs purchased from the Bundle Stall.
Although Wei Bo could not fully empathize with Chen Ping'an's miserable predicament over the past twenty days, the boy's tenacity and the old man's ruthless methods both astonished him.
Just how great an "office" must be, to require such suffering? Surely it wouldn't come to the point where when the world faced upheaval, with dire news arriving from Inverted Mountain, this young man would be called upon to stand alone against a million soldiers with a single sword?
When this thought surfaced, Wei Bo himself found it absurd.
How high was the sky, how vast the earth? One must remember that Vase Prefecture was the smallest of the nine prefectures within the Bright World. Moreover, the prefecture closest to Inverted Mountain was that luxuriant and densely forested Bodhi Prefecture. Figures like Cao Xi were already land sword immortals of extremely high combat power, yet in Southern Bodhi Prefecture, they still couldn't be considered the very best. The true peaks, those who would stand at the summit, were figures like the ancestor of the Yingyin Chen clan.
Song Yuzhang, the mountain god of Fallen Mountain, once took the initiative to request a meeting with Wei Bo. Wei Bo only exchanged a few bland words with him, far less cordial and warm than their first encounter. Both knew the reason. Song Yuzhang wanted to be a pure minister, to practice foolish loyalty, placing the interests of Great Li above all else. Back at the mountain temple on the peak, regarding the matter of Chen Ping'an, Song Yuzhang had spoken bluntly even in Wei Bo's presence. Wei Bo was no clay bodhisattva without any temper, and the meeting had ended on bad terms.
Today, Wei Bo carried his bundle, leisurely climbing the mountain. Arriving at the bamboo building, he found that before today's practice session in the second-floor room, Chen Ping'an, standing by the railing, had just finished his sword furnace stance practice and was even in the mood to greet him proactively. Wei Bo lightly tossed the bundle worth a hundred thousand taels of silver to the pink-skirted girl, glanced at the azure-clad child sitting cross-legged on the cliff edge, and bounded lightly up to the second floor with a series of "thump thump thump" sounds. He looked less like a Northern Peak true god about to receive a golden decree and more like a running shop assistant.
Although Chen Ping'an was about to "head to the execution ground," he still smiled and said, "Troubling you, Immortal Wei."
"No trouble, no trouble. Just a few steps, and I get to enjoy the scenery every day. Besides, as a mountain god, patrolling is my duty."
Wei Bo leaned his elbow against the railing, turning his head to look at the young man. "Just half a pot of wine, and it's that effective?"
Chen Ping'an said sheepishly, "I don't know why, but after drinking, my mood is completely different."
Wei Bo nodded. "That's a good thing."
The old man's deep voice came from inside. "Come in and enjoy your blessings!"
Chen Ping'an smiled helplessly, bid Wei Bo farewell, and Wei Bo also smiled bitterly, saying nothing. Enjoy blessings? The old man had a nerve saying that.
The term "disarming" sounded interesting, didn't it? But what did it actually entail? It meant Chen Ping'an had to tear off his own outer layer of skin and lift his own fingernails!
As for "drawing silk," that required Chen Ping'an to pull his own sinews and veins!
This cruel method truly tested one's resolve, deliberately making Chen Ping'an do it himself, forcing him to keep his eyes wide open, unable to move quickly, bit by bit, "drawing silk from the cocoon" on himself.
But Wei Bo, despite his scalp tingling, was also full of anticipation for Chen Ping'an's martial arts realm.
With such a foundation forged at the third realm, how formidable would his foundation be? How powerful would his combat ability be when facing enemies in battle later?
Chen Ping'an took off his straw sandals and entered the empty room, closing the door behind him. He found the old man sitting cross-legged, flipping through the Mountain Toppling Fist Manual, his brow deeply furrowed.
Today, while Chen Ping'an was practicing the sword furnace, the old man had a sudden whim and said he wanted to see the fist manual for that stance. After Chen Ping'an explained—essentially the same as what he'd told Miss Ning back then—that the manual was only kept in trust, not his own, and that the techniques and diagrams recorded within could not be passed on, the old man grew so annoyed he almost taught the boy a lesson right then and there.
"Is this that Mountain Toppling Fist Manual?"
The old man casually tossed the manual back to the boy, chuckling with a sneer. "The opening says, 'In my hometown, there is a small insect called the ant, which, all its life, unlike its kind elsewhere, carries stones into the water.' Hahaha, so this is from some martial artist in southeastern Reed Prefecture. Listen to these petty words, reeking of the soil. You can imagine how far a pugilist who wrote such a manual could go in life."
"Fortunately, this fellow still has a bit of self-awareness, clearly writing in the manual, 'I have never entered the pure and high ranks of contemporary fist manuals,' otherwise I would have cursed him for being shameless."
"'My fist art distinguishes life and death, not victory or defeat; it emphasizes intent, not techniques.' Tsk tsk, such talk—like a toad opening its mouth trying to swallow the sky and earth. What a big mouth! Chen Ping'an, do you know why the manual says this? Simple: when it came to victory or defeat, he always lost more than he won, so he talked about life and death—if worst came to worst, just die."
Chen Ping'an said gloomily, "If the fist manual is so inferior, then why does Senior remember its principles so clearly?"
The old man laughed heartily. "The techniques recorded are truly mediocre, but this fellow's way of talking—not afraid to bite off his tongue—I find quite amusing. Just treat it like some miscellaneous travelogue of mountains and rivers."
Chen Ping'an didn't argue, but he was unhappy.
He cherished this fist manual, cherished it immensely!
Chen Ping'an's gratitude for the Mountain Toppling Fist ran deep, deep enough that in his heart, he placed it not a whit below the three strands of sword intent from the Sword Spirit. One was a life-saving medicine, the other a life-preserving charm. Neither was superior, and neither should be. As for the quality of the Mountain Toppling Fist Manual, Chen Ping'an roughly understood, because Ning Yao had thought it very ordinary—you could learn and practice the techniques step by step, but she didn't think they would lead to great achievement. Later, Zhu He had also witnessed Chen Ping'an's walking and standing stances, feeling no sense of wonder.
But Chen Ping'an didn't care about that.
Even if ten years or a hundred years passed, no matter how high his martial arts achievements became, his love for the Mountain Toppling Fist would only grow, never diminish!
The old man smiled and asked, "Before we practice today, let me ask you a small question. If you answer correctly, there's a surprise. If wrongly, heh heh."
Chen Ping'an swallowed his saliva, a bit apprehensive.
The old man's smile faded, and he asked solemnly, "Excluding the techniques and stances, which sentence in the fist manual do you like most?"
Without any hesitation, Chen Ping'an said, "Future practitioners of my Mountain Toppling Fist, even if you face the founders of the Three Teachings, remember: our fist art may be weak, our desire for victory may be conceded, but our fist intent—must never retreat!"
The old man suddenly stood up. "Practice!"
—
At the blacksmith's shop south of town, a girl was complaining to her father. "Why won't you let me help with forging the sword?"
The man glanced toward the direction of the new sword furnace. "Do you know why I agreed to forge this sword for that girl?"
The girl nodded. "I know. She gave us such a large piece of Dragon Slaying Platform, enough to buy a good sword."
Ruan Qiong shook his head. "It's more than that. I hope that the first sword I forge to establish my school, no matter who it's for, will make a thunderous impression, making all sword cultivators in Vase Prefecture, even Reed Prefecture, know the unparalleled sharpness of this sword!"
Speaking of this, the blacksmith—who was even bold enough to tease the wine-selling woman in town—radiated a strange brilliance, like a grandmaster discoursing, a Taoist debating the Way, a monk preaching. The man sat on his chair, clenching his fist and lightly tapping his knee, his eyes sharp and fierce, nowhere near his usual rugged and dull demeanor. "So who is most suitable to give it to? Originally, Wei Jin from Wind and Snow Temple, half a family member, would have been fitting in reason and sentiment. But unfortunately, before Ning Yao appeared, Wei Jin was in seclusion. Since Ning Yao took the initiative to request a sword and offered the Dragon Slaying Platform, of course I wouldn't refuse. Once it crosses Inverted Mountain, that place is even more remarkable than the few sword cultivation sanctums of Reed Prefecture, and it will more readily capture the attention of sword cultivators throughout the world."
The existence of Inverted Mountain was hailed as the greatest mountain-shaped seal in the world. Originally a small seal, after falling from the sky, it became a towering mountain. This was clearly a slap in the face of the Confucian sages. That second disciple of the Taoist Ancestor, who established a separate heavenly court in another world, had not only driven this nail into the Bright World but also demanded that all cultivators from the various prefectures who passed through Inverted Mountain to reach Sword Qi Great Wall must sign a "Mountain Oath."
Ordinary people generally did not know of the existence of Inverted Mountain or Sword Qi Great Wall, as they were almost at the very edge of the Bright World. For example, the average mountain sect in Vase Prefecture, secluded in a corner, small and insignificant, might never hear these two names in a lifetime. At a higher level, one might have heard of them but glossed over them; it's a topic difficult to delve into deeply, partly due to blocked information, partly because it's separated by thousands of mountains and rivers—unrelated matters don't concern one. But even for a Vase Prefecture sect like Wind and Snow Temple, at the very pinnacle, that scene remained shrouded in clouds and mist, as if looking at flowers through fog, with a layer in between, because of that Inverted Mountain, and even more because it was the handiwork of the Taoist Ancestor's second disciple, like a "private courtyard" built within this world.
Truly overbearing.
The entire Bright World was your Confucian domain, yet here I, a poor Taoist, have independently opened a small garden within your home.
No wonder that before Wen Sheng became a saint, when he ran to the border of the two worlds and cursed out the Taoist Ancestor's second disciple, it became one of the most celebrated feats among Confucian disciples of that time.
According to some long-circulating accounts, you could go to Inverted Mountain, look around as you pleased, walk as you pleased, but certain matters must not be divulged. If you spread them, naturally the disciples and followers of one of the Taoist patriarchs in the Bright World would come to settle accounts with you. Moreover, regarding this matter, the three Confucian academies and seventy-two schools often wouldn't interfere too much, at most mediating a few words.
As for why the sages with statues in the Confucian Temple chose to turn a blind eye to this, that likely involved extremely deep secrets.
Three words: "Heaven" knows.
Ruan Xiu asked in confusion, "Father, you've said so much. What does it have to do with not letting me help you forge the sword?"
Ruan Qiong nodded. "That sword is too high in quality, too good in material. Your current realm is sufficient, but I'm afraid that if you strike with true fire, it would be too terrifying. Right now, the town is a mix of fish and dragons. The slightest wind or grass movement will be known by half of Vase Prefecture."
Ruan Xiu was even more puzzled. "I'm just striking iron. Could I strike out a piece of peach blossom cake?"
Ruan Qiong snorted coldly. "If you only struck out a piece of peach blossom cake, that would save me worry and effort."
Ruan Xiu awkwardly said, "Ha," and fell silent.
In the past year, she hadn't eaten many pastries. Just mentioning them made her mouth water, which was a bit embarrassing.
Ruan Qiong held back for a long time, but couldn't help saying, "That kid, I heard that as soon as Ning Yao asked him to deliver the sword, he agreed without a second thought. He didn't even ask how far Vase Prefecture was from Inverted Mountain. A toad wanting to eat swan meat, not knowing the height of heaven or the depth of earth!"
Ruan Xiu turned her head and said softly, "Father, it's just liking a girl. Does it have to be about matching family status? It's not like marriage. At that point, considerations of birth might make some sense. But now, it's just about who one likes. Heaven and earth don't care."
Ruan Qiong was taken aback. "You know he likes Ning Yao?"
Ruan Xiu widened her eyes. "It's not like I'm blind. And Father, you know I can see people's hearts. I've known for a long time."
Ruan Qiong was so angry he couldn't say a word, only wishing he could stride to the bamboo building on Fallen Mountain and punch that little muddle-headed boy from Mud Vase Alley to death.
This wasn't how you treated someone's daughter.
Ruan Xiu suddenly laughed. "Father, you don't think I like Chen Ping'an, do you? I mean, liking as in romantic feelings."
Ruan Qiong was a bit confused. Although he felt guilty, he still pretended to be relaxed and said stubbornly, "How could you possibly like that kid? It's not about his background—I came from a poor family myself, so I don't need to say much about that—but Chen Ping'an's appearance, talent, temperament—I truly don't like him. How could he be worthy of my Xiuxiu?"
Ruan Xiu said, "Oh," stretched her arms straight, interlaced her fingers, and looked into the distance. "So Father doesn't like him."
As a military sage, Ruan Qiong was almost angered to death by his daughter's words.
He steeled himself and asked, "What about you, Xiuxiu?"
Ruan Xiu's answer seemed completely irrelevant, as if avoiding the issue. "Chen Ping'an will only like one girl. I know that better than anyone."
When she said this, the girl smiled quite happily.
This left Ruan Qiong dazed, unable to figure out what Xiuxiu was really thinking. He wasn't her mother, after all; these matters of love and affection were hard for him, a big man, to get to the bottom of.
Ruan Xiu squinted her moist, spirited eyes and said with a giggle, "Peach blossom cake is really delicious."
Ruan Qiong suddenly stood up, grumbling, "I'll go to town and buy some for you."
Ruan Xiu said softly, "Sure."
As Ruan Qiong walked away, he fumed. Damn Chen Ping'an, making my Xiuxiu go half a year just craving snacks, without even getting to eat any! My daughter has lost weight!
—
Regarding the sage Ruan Qiong's opening of the furnace to forge a sword, the monsters and rogue cultivators who had entered the territory the previous year had all been secretly notified. Willing or not, they had to head to the large mountains in the west. Whether they could spend money to avoid disaster and successfully enter the mountain peaks, using the landscape's qi to resist the sword intent emitted by the furnace later, depended on the whims of the mountain powers. Thus, the vast majority of the various monsters who had settled here had grim expressions. A few monsters who didn't take the matter seriously, thinking that their own profound cultivation wouldn't be frightened by a sword forge far away on Dragon Whisker River, insisted on staying in their newly purchased houses in town. The local officials from the prefectural and county offices didn't force them, simply handing over the lists of such individuals to the Great Li spies within the territory.
The wonder of the Great Way was that Ruan Qiong's sword forging this time was quite peculiar. It was declared to have a significant impact only on the demon race, while human cultivators were unaffected. Even ordinary townsfolk, with their relatively weak physiques, would not be affected by the residual resonance of Ruan Qiong's forging.
No wonder there was an old saying that circulated "at the foot of the mountain" among immortals: "If you don't enter this mountain, you won't enjoy its great blessings, but you can also avoid many troubles." For example, the prohibition of magical techniques in Pearl Cave Heaven—from Qi Jingchun to Li Huai, to the Li clan ancestor and all ordinary cultivators, all of them were suffering. In contrast, the common people were completely unaware.
Subsequently, nearly a hundred rogue cultivators hidden among the town's populace encountered several conflicts during their journey into the mountains. At the slightest disagreement, they would fight to the death. The Great Li court did not intervene, turning a blind eye as long as the fighting didn't damage the mountains' feng shui. However, one sixth-realm monster who refused to budge from the town got into an argument with the county official who came to notify him. Its ferocity erupted, and with one punch, it made the official vomit blood, also injuring a martial secretary who was escorting him. In less than the time it takes to burn an incense stick, a flying sword message reached the newly built prefectural office north of the mountains. Prefect Wu Yuan personally ordered the monster's immediate execution.
From start to finish, the prefectural office did not mobilize the ancestral cultivators of the town's few great clans, nor did it drive the other monsters who were living under their protection and absorbing spiritual energy. Instead, it dispatched three high-ranking martial secretaries, along with two hundred elite Great Li soldiers, led by a military officer. They surrounded the monster's residence tightly, with no gaps. On the rooftops, powerful crossbowmen took positions, wielding strong bows and heavy crossbows, their bolts specially made by a secret office of the Ministry of Works. In the end, they killed the monster on the spot.
The Mohist knight-errant Xu Ruo, famous throughout the central lands, and his confidant Liu Yu stood shoulder to shoulder on a nearby rooftop, watching with folded arms, not overstepping their bounds.
Among those watching from afar were many external forces that had purchased mountain peaks.
If Great Li had dispatched a powerful cultivator to crush and kill the unruly monster, the impact on those watching would have been far less than what they actually saw: martial cultivators of military origin acting as Great Li's martial secretaries, coordinating with battle-hardened soldiers who had fought on a hundred battlefields. Each man advanced and retreated in perfect order, methodically and effortlessly killing the monster. Two groups, one from the mountains and one from the mundane world, cooperated flawlessly.
This was the truly terrifying aspect of the Great Li dynasty.
—
Today's practice was only for tempering the soul, but Chen Ping'an suffered even more.
When the azure-clad child carried him out, his hands and feet were twitching, and he was foaming at the mouth. Even after being placed in the large medicinal tub downstairs, he remained in this miserable state.
When Chen Ping'an finally crawled out of the tub, changed into clean clothes, it was again late at night. He picked up the wine jug, exhaled a turbid breath, stretched, and sat down between the azure-clad child and the pink-skirted girl. He took a small sip of the strong liquor, still finding it harsh and unpleasant, but it felt good—better than the first time he'd had it.
Chen Ping'an drank in small sips, narrowing his eyes, slightly tipsy.
Emboldened by the alcohol, he asked, "I know there are sword-nurturing gourds in the world. Do you think the Bundle Stall sells them?"
The two little ones exchanged glances.
The azure-clad child sighed. "Master, it's not that I'm unwilling to lend you money. Regardless of whether the Bundle Stall sells them, first, Master might not be able to grab one, and second, even if I sold everything I own, I might not be able to afford even the most ordinary sword-nurturing gourd."
Chen Ping'an was shocked. "That expensive?"
The azure-clad child nodded vigorously. "There's no most expensive, only more expensive! Expensive enough to make all mid-fifth-realm cultivators feel the pain!"
The azure-clad child stood up, emphasizing his tone. "Take that river god brother of mine, for example. His greatest dream in life is to have a sword-nurturing gourd in his left hand and one in his right. Ha, but he's not even a sword cultivator! It would enrage those arrogant sword cultivators. Yet to this day, he's only saved up enough for a very low-quality gourd. Of course, that's related to his lavish spending. Just that one immortal lady alone made him squander four or five hundred years of savings. And there were several others who admired him, and he always spent a fortune on them. Ah, women are a calamity. So Master, you're actually lucky—no romantic luck at all, so you don't have to worry about such things."
The pink-skirted girl quickly retorted, "That's not true! Sister Ruan likes our master!"
Chen Ping'an smiled and said, "That's just Sister Ruan being a good person, not her liking me. Don't talk nonsense like that in the future, or if Sister Ruan gets angry, I won't help you."
As he spoke, Chen Ping'an secretly clicked his tongue. So sword-nurturing gourds were that priceless. Then the first thing to do when going down the mountain was to go to the courier station and send a letter to Li Baoping, telling her to take good care of that silvery-white sword-nurturing gourd and not to bump or scratch it. He knew very well that Baoping had a big playful heart; one day she might be swinging the little red-stringed gourd all over the mountain, and with a "whoosh," the little gourd might go flying.
The two little ones glared at each other, both holding back from speaking.
Chen Ping'an thought carefully and added, "Sister Ruan is different from most people. I can't explain it clearly. If you say Sister Ruan likes me, then I like Sister Ruan too. But that kind of liking isn't what you think."
The azure-clad child breathed a sigh of relief.
He had been worried that one day, that middle-aged man who didn't like to talk and didn't seem like a sage would come storming into Fallen Mountain, kill Chen Ping'an with one punch, and then kill him with another.
The pink-skirted girl felt a little disappointed.
Of course, she liked her master the most, and she also liked Sister Ruan. If the two people she liked could like each other, wouldn't that be wonderful?
So who did master really like?
The pink-skirted girl knew that her master secretly liked a certain young lady.
For instance, now, as she secretly watched her master's profile, looking at Chen Ping'an's eyes and expression, she knew he was thinking about that young lady again.
Chen Ping'an's mind traveled thousands of miles away.
There was a girl, her brows like distant mountains.
She was beautiful, and beyond that, she was good.
Even if she just sat in that broken house on Mud Vase Alley, saying nothing, she could make the boy full of hope for the future.
But Chen Ping'an also knew that his liking her was his own business, and her liking him was hers.
Regardless, Chen Ping'an felt he had to tell her face to face.
Just like how she had already gone far away, but suddenly felt she should say goodbye to him, so she turned around, flew back on her sword, and said goodbye in person.
Chen Ping'an dared not say he would only love one girl in his life, but he would never love two girls at the same time.
So he wanted to take a long journey for himself.
This was the first time the boy so badly wanted to do something for himself.
—
The next day during practice, before starting, Chen Ping'an casually asked if he needed to find a good sword manual for practicing swordsmanship.
The old man flew into a rage. The originally planned tempering of the physical body was switched to tempering the soul. Moreover, before that, under the pretext of "sparring" to check the results of his fist practice, using the "Divine Man Beats Drum" style, he landed a full twenty-five punches, beating Chen Ping'an until he nearly cried out for his parents.
Chen Ping'an lay on the ground, almost dead.
Many times he mistakenly thought he was really about to die.
The old man looked down from on high, sneering, "A man's heart is never content; a snake tries to swallow an elephant. You haven't even mastered your fist art, and you're already thinking about dividing your attention to practice swordsmanship?!"
Chen Ping'an, his face covered in blood so his features were unrecognizable, was so aggrieved he felt like dying. While vomiting blood, he hoarsely replied, "I was going to ask how to practice swordsmanship after finishing the fist practice..."
The old man was clearly taken aback for a moment. Seeing the young man's eyes begin to blaze with fire, the old man laughed awkwardly and kicked the boy unconscious.
When helping to temper the physical body, whether one was unconscious or awake made little difference.
That evening, after Chen Ping'an came out of the medicinal tub and changed his clothes, he stood on the first floor and cursed up at the second floor, his face livid, gnashing his teeth.
His curses were indeed nothing to sneeze at—after all, he was a street kid from Mud Vase Alley.
The azure-clad child and the pink-skirted girl sat nearby cracking melon seeds. Even the azure-clad child began to admire his master. After practicing fists for so long, his courage and daring alone had become remarkably effective.
After that, Chen Ping'an sat on a bamboo chair, drinking gloomily, finishing the remaining half pot of wine in one go.