Chapter 200: The Deadlock's Core
After the yellow sparrow perched on his shoulder, Xie Shi set down his teacup as if completely at ease, and laughed heartily, "Is this how the Great Li treats its guests?"
Cao Xi looked displeased and somewhat embarrassed.
He did indeed want to kill this Xie Shi, and then incidentally drag out some Daoist big shot behind Xie Shi, causing chaos to spread everywhere. The Yingyin Chen Clan of the Suosha Continent (Suo Sha Zhou), the local saint Ruan Qiong, and the two military ancestor temples of Wind Snow Temple and True Martial Mountain on Bottle Gourd Continent, the unfathomable White Jade Tower of Great Li, the deep-thinking Great Li National Teacher Cui Chan, and so on. Cao Xi could both fulfill the agreement with the Pure Confucian Chen Clan, successfully control his own destined porcelain, and become in-laws through marriage. After that, he could find an opportunity to slip away, comfortably watch the fire from across the shore, and at worst hide in the Zhenhai Tower later.
But Cao Xi didn't want to be the first bird out of the forest, especially not to clash head-on with Xie Shi.
After sensing the appearance of that yellow sparrow, the well-traveled Xu Ruo had originally given up on the idea of drawing his sword. But hearing Xie Shi's words, he became displeased and grasped his sword hilt again. This Mohist wandering hero, who had been strolling in Peach Leaf Lane, slowly walked towards the Xie family's old mansion, saying as he went, "There's no need for me, Xu Ruo, to say much about how Great Li treats its guests. If they were really determined to harm you, the young girl Zhugui wouldn't have appeared in the small town at all. They reasoned with you and appealed to your emotions—Great Li didn't do badly. But you, Xie Shi, at the inn table, spoke with great arrogance, completely disregarding Great Li. What, now that you have your ancestor's backing, you want to continue throwing your weight around? Fine, today I, Xu Ruo, will face you in a life-and-death battle, purely as myself."
Xu Ruo walked to the Xie family gate and smiled, "Rest assured, we Mohist disciples keep our word. If I, Xu Ruo, settle today's matter only between you and me in life and death, then neither Great Li nor any Mohist elders will trouble you, Xie Shi, in the future."
Cui Chan, Cao Xi, Ruan Qiong, Xu Ruo, and the nameless martial artist. The small town was a den of tigers and dragons, with these five as the highest, forming an invisible net to jointly besiege Xie Shi. Logically, Xu Ruo was the least likely to strike first. Unexpectedly, it was this Mohist wanderer, who got along with everyone, who wanted to draw his sword and fight one-on-one, alone testing the extraordinary abilities of a Daoist Celestial Lord.
Xie Shi frowned, looked towards the main gate, and said sternly, "Xu Ruo, do you really intend to fight?"
Xu Ruo patted his sword hilt and laughed freely, "It's been sixty years since I've fully delivered a single sword strike. I've been nurturing two or three swords for this, and they're barely passable. I believe they won't disappoint Celestial Lord Xie."
For the first time, Xie Shi found himself in a difficult position. If it were a personal grudge, on Julu Continent, he would have let loose. But this trip south across continents wasn't that simple. The fact that he, Xie Shi, would do things against his will was itself very telling. As a continental Daoist leader, how could he be merely blackmailed by the destined porcelain and swallow his pride to return south?
Cao Xi was somewhat gloating.
Xu Ruo was known for being soft on the hard and hard on the soft, one of those with the best temper among the world's wandering heroes. Xu Ruo's actual ability, depth of cultivation, and height of backing were always a mystery because he rarely made moves. But both on and off the mountains, people believed that if someone could live a long life and earn a great reputation, then the better-tempered a cultivator usually was, the more astonishing it would be when he lost his temper.
At that moment, an aged voice rang out like a great bell through the Xie family old mansion, "Xu Ruo, don't fight me for this. Xie Shi, let me practice on him. It just happens to celebrate my return to the tenth rank of the martial path. If my opponent isn't strong enough, it won't be satisfying! If Xie Shi thinks I'm bullying him by using my status or ganging up on him, that's fine—I'll fight the person behind you to a satisfying finish. Same reasoning as Xu Ruo—personal grudges, life and death at one's own risk!"
The delicate yellow sparrow on Xie Shi's shoulder chirped melodiously.
Xie Shi listened intently, smiled knowingly, and cupped his fists, "The elder says that earlier it was my lack of sincerity, that there's no such thing as forcing a sale! So he is currently on his way to Longquan Commandery. He also said he would personally help your Great Li dynasty kidnap..."
Xie Shi repeated the words verbatim, his expression stiffening slightly, then quickly changed his tune, "...invite the 'Jade Maiden' He Xiaoliang of the Bottle Gourd Continent's Daoist lineage, to save your Great Li from future conflict with the Shemiao Sect, as a show of sincerity. So the place where the Great Li Song clan truly needs to focus is only at True Martial Mountain."
Cao Xi thought about it, feeling something was off, but from Xie Shi's words, he couldn't find any fault.
Xie Shi looked towards the mansion gate and cupped his fists with a smile, "If you want to fight, after this matter is settled, I, Xie Shi, will definitely oblige!"
Then he shifted direction, facing the southwest mountains—exactly where the Luopo Mountain bamboo pavilion was located—"If you want to fight my master, you'll have to go through me first. I hope you understand. If you think I, Xie Shi, look down on you..."
Xie Shi withdrew his fists, put his hands behind his back, and sneered, "Then consider it as me, Xie Shi, looking down on you!"
Xu Ruo dropped a line, "After this matter is settled, I will definitely oblige."
On Luopo Mountain, the old man turned to look at Cui Chan with a smile, "So, when should I make my move? Normally, I really can't stand this."
Cui Chan's expression was calm, his thumb and index finger gently rubbing together as if weighing pros and cons. He said slowly, "No hurry. This is a negotiation after all. He, Xie Shi, asks an exorbitant price, and I was thinking of using your ninth rank martial cultivation to help His Majesty bargain on the spot. Since the big boss behind the scenes has shown up and made a major concession, Great Li doesn't need to completely break with Xie Shi. Hah, in the future, Xie Shi will have to guard the mountains north of Guanhu Academy; we can't let this Celestial Lord get hurt. After I leave the mountain, I'll also have to persuade Xu Ruo to put aside his temper for now. A headache. People like Xu Ruo have no desires, so they are unyielding. Once he sets his mind on something, tsk, a headache."
The barefoot old man standing in the corridor looked at Cui Chan's profile and sighed, "Chanchan (Cui Chan's childhood name?), you shouldn't have become like this."
Cui Chan pointed into the distance and sneered, "I am Cui Chan. Your grandson Cui Chan is in the Great Sui, not only in a youthful appearance but also with childish heart. He should suit your preferences."
Cui Chan was in a foul mood and suddenly shouted harshly, "Come out!"
This roar startled the green-clad child and the pink-skirted girl. The green-clad child was so frightened his legs trembled. What, even cursing to oneself in the stomach wasn't allowed? Could he hear that? When did Confucian sages become so divinely powerful?
Fortunately, soon from the quiet path outside the bamboo pavilion, a man in black emerged. He was tall and jade-like, about thirty-something, with an aura of vitality. He wore a black shirt and exuded a hard, icy temperament—clearly a difficult person to deal with. He walked steadily to the bamboo pavilion and, bowing his head with cupped fists to the second floor, said, "Sun Shujian, the lowest-ranking retainer of the Cui clan, pays respects to the Great Li National Teacher and to the Old Ancestor!"
Cui Chan's eyes were displeased. "That alms-bowl monk stopped you once, which saved your life. And you still dare to enter this mountain?!"
Earlier, when Cui Chan quietly left the inn to meet the old man, he had already sensed the man hiding in the shadows. At that time, Cui Chan had murderous intent, but the monk acted first, blocking the path between Cui Chan and that Cui family retainer. Cui Chan didn't want unnecessary trouble, so he didn't kill the man.
Sun Shujian's expression was resolute, maintaining his cupped-fist posture but raising his head to meet the National Teacher's gaze. "The Cui ancestral mansion has someone specifically assigned to watch over the Old Ancestor, changing every ten years to prevent anyone from secretly harming him. This decade, it was me. When the Old Ancestor left the south without authorization this time, it was also I who helped deliver false intelligence, claiming that the Old Ancestor was still lingering in the southern region."
Cui Chan squinted and smiled, "So you're here to ask for a reward?"
The man shook his head but didn't hide the heat in his eyes. He said loudly, "I dare not! I, Sun Shujian, only hope to learn boxing from the Old Ancestor! Even if my talent is limited and I can only learn a trivial bit, I'll die without regret!"
The barefoot old man laughed, "In my hundred years of seclusion here, during my occasional moments of clarity, I've remembered many people like you. Most of them had higher cultivation than you, but they were all showpieces. In terms of talent and combat ability, they aren't as good as you, a sixth-rank martial artist from an unconventional background. You don't need to belittle yourself. Perhaps your willingness to voluntarily be relegated to my side, to warm a cold stove that has been cold for a hundred years, is also a part of your private scheme, Sun Shujian, isn't it?"
Sun Shujian showed the demeanor of a true petty man, nodding, "Indeed, I was hoping to rely on the Old Ancestor's favor to leap to success overnight!"
"Oh? Ambitious. The Great Li National Teacher beside me might just like you."
The old man pointed at Cui Chan beside him, then at himself, and finally at the pure martial artist below. "An ungrateful bastard. Since you know I am the Cui clan's Old Ancestor, and you still dare to act this way, you've got some nerve. Aren't you afraid that when I am clear-headed, I'll smash you into a pulp with one punch?"
Sun Shujian's gaze was firm, "I only know that if I don't take a gamble, I will regret it for the rest of my life!"
Cui Chan narrowed his eyes, for the first time carefully sizing up this young junior.
Interesting.
The old man caught Cui Chan's expression from the corner of his eye and smiled slightly. He lightly leaped down from the second floor, landing steadily. Behind him was the closed first floor of the bamboo pavilion, where a miserable young man lay in a large medicine barrel. The old man stared at the family's lowest retainer, whose muscles were tense all over. "Want to learn boxing from me? You need real skill. Dare to take one punch from me? If you take it, I won't say ninth rank, but eighth rank will be yours for the taking. If you can't take it, there won't be a second punch."
A great opportunity was right before him, but Sun Shujian didn't lose his reason. He asked directly, "May I ask, Old Ancestor, at what rank will you deliver this punch?"
Upstairs, Cui Chan smiled. This one was indeed qualified to be his chess piece.
Downstairs, the old man laughed heartily, extremely pleased. "You are sixth rank. I won't bully you. I'll only use fifth rank to give you one punch. How about that?"
The man stepped forward with one foot and back with the other, assuming his boxing stance. A fist intent flowed like a mountain spring through his entire body, perfectly natural.
It was obvious that in the martial path, the self-taught Sun Shujian not only had great perseverance but also considerable, extraordinary comprehension. As a rogue cultivator, he must have put in a lot of effort unknown to others to reach today's height—a sixth-rank peak martial artist, a martial arts grandmaster who could roam freely across a continent.
Sun Shujian held his breath and focused. There was already a hint of a master's bearing about him. "I invite the Old Ancestor to throw the punch!"
Cui Chan suddenly let out an inexplicable sigh.
The barefoot old man took a step forward and threw a punch.
An unadorned, plain punch landed on Sun Shujian's forehead.
Sun Shujian, unable to block the old man's attack in time, flew backward dozens of feet. He lay in a pool of blood, limbs twitching, blood oozing from all seven orifices. On the verge of death, this young martial artist, whose heart was higher than the sky, stared at the sky with eyes full of confusion, reluctance, and resentment.
The pink-skirted girl covered her eyes, not daring to watch.
The green-clad child swallowed his saliva. Look at that—a single punch killed a person.
Upstairs, Cui Chan asked, "Why did you do that?"
The old man turned and leaped back to the eaves of the second floor. "A person like this is not worthy of learning my boxing techniques."
Since the man was dead, although it was a bit regrettable—a pure martial artist who had the potential to reach eighth rank or even go further was an important chess piece not to be underestimated—Cui Chan quickly dismissed this emotion. The man was dead; there was no use thinking about it. Fortunately, this was someone else's territory, so he didn't have to deal with the corpse.
Cui Chan asked curiously, "Why did you kill him?"
The old man sat back on the bench, "It wasn't for you to see. It was for that guy downstairs to see."
Fortune and misfortune have no door; they are only summoned by man.
Cui Chan looked down.
Outside the first floor of the bamboo pavilion stood a young man with an ugly expression, looking up at them.
But the young man remained silent.
The atmosphere was freezing cold.
After a while, the old man didn't get up, and the young man didn't leave.
Cui Chan found it a bit boring.
Even though the person downstairs was his other self's master.
But Cui Chan had no interest in such things. If it weren't for the possibility that someone might still return to the human world—since the soul had been split in half and the body separated—Chen Ping'an from the Mud Vase Alley no longer had any benefit for him. Cui Chan wouldn't mind sending this young man on his way. Not only was he an eyesore, but he might also cause many unexpected changes. This was something Cui Chan, who was used to controlling the overall situation, disliked. As for how the "young Cui Chan's" Great Path would fare, whether he would be thwarted or whether all beings would never return to the peak—what did it matter to National Teacher Cui Chan?
After all, they were two different people now.
The old man sat on the bamboo chair and sneered, "What, you kid think I'm killing indiscriminately? Do you want to seek justice for that man who died with his eyes open?"
Chen Ping'an walked over to the corpse, crouched down, and found he was already dead.
Chen Ping'an said softly, "I don't know why you came, and I don't know why he killed you. So all I can do is bury you. If I learn your hometown in the future, I'll try to let your bones return to their roots."
These words were spoken to the dead, to the two people on the second floor, and more to himself.
The old man suddenly roared, his face showing extreme anger, ferocious and terrifying, his momentum surging. "There are thousands of good people in the world, but pure martial artists like me are rare! There are so many cultivators in the world. Do you think those who reach the top will distinguish between good and evil, right and wrong?! Chen Ping'an, are you learning boxing from me, or learning to be a man?!"
Chen Ping'an stood up, beckoned for the green-clad child to come help with the aftermath, and looked up to the second floor, saying, "Only learn boxing!"
The old man stood up and laughed heartily, "Good, good, good! When do we start training?"
Chen Ping'an silently walked toward the bamboo pavilion and climbed the stairs.
The old man turned and walked into the room, "If anything comes up, just call me."
"Don't worry."
Cui Chan then turned and walked toward the stairs, saying firmly, "That won't happen!"
The old man's steps paused slightly, then he quickly strode over the threshold, and the door slammed shut.
Cui Chan stopped at the top of the stairs. Chen Ping'an walked halfway up and, seeing that he didn't move to make way, stopped.
This Confucian-robed elder looked down at the youth and smiled, "Back when we were in the still-unbroken, undescended Pearldrop Cave Heaven, you, Chen Ping'an, were the most pitiful. Your aura was thin, almost nonexistent. So you could only let all opportunities slip by, becoming bait for others. Now that these mystical prohibitions are gone, it's almost like the worst fortune has turned for the better. So since such a big pie has fallen from the sky, hold onto it tightly. Hold it so tightly that even if your hands are broken, your legs are crushed, even if you have to bite it with your mouth until all your teeth shatter, you must fight to your last breath to keep it, and hold it firmly!"
Cui Chan walked down, saying, "These words, I'm saying them for that old fellow. He's never liked to speak plainly. Everything he does and says, he acts as if it's a matter of course. It's actually quite annoying. If it were me, I wouldn't have come to see you this time. Your life and death are no longer important now. You have to thank Qi Jingchun for that, my junior brother. Of course, if you, Chen Ping'an, don't measure up, then Qi Jingchun's death will have been in vain."
At this point, Cui Chan's smile was complex. "I have to admit, in this regard, my insight is better than Old Man Yang's, but worse than Qi Jingchun's."
Finally, they passed each other, each slightly turning aside to make way.
At that moment, Cui Chan paused slightly and whispered, "Do you know when your most dangerous moment in this life was?"
The youth slowed down almost at the same time.
Cui Chan lowered his voice, "When that 'kind-hearted' person wanted to give you that candied hawthorn stick. If you had accepted it then, everything would have been for naught."
Chen Ping'an was shocked beyond words.
Many past events flashed before his eyes like a fleeting parade.
National Teacher Cui Chan continued down the stairs, and the moment he stepped off the last step, his figure dissipated and vanished in a flash.
That day's boxing training tempered both the body and the soul, even more tormenting than the previous day.
No matter how hard Chen Ping'an gritted his teeth and persisted, he fainted several times, only to be beaten awake by the old man again and again. Truly, it was a fate worse than death.
When the green-clad child carried Chen Ping'an out of the room, he almost thought it was the second corpse collection of the day, and was greatly startled. At that time, Chen Ping'an's breathing was as faint as a gossamer thread, even weaker than that of a withered old man.
To the point that Wei Bo had to go upstairs and knock on the door, reminding the old man that going too far was as bad as not going far enough.
The old man replied through the door, not in a good mood, "Who in the world has the right to meddle in how I teach people boxing?"
Wei Bo went downstairs angrily, but still felt uneasy, so he personally watched Chen Ping'an's breathing in the medicine barrel to prevent any accidents.
In the night, a dejected Chen Ping'an changed into his clothes and walked out of the door.
The green-clad child was cultivating by the cliff, and the pink-skirted girl had brought a small bamboo chair.
Chen Ping'an sat on the chair, patted her head, and smiled, "I'm fine."
The pink-skirted girl managed a smile and, imitating the green-clad child's flattery, said, "Of course, our master is the greatest."
Chen Ping'an made a funny face at her.
Finally, he managed to make the little girl laugh.
After that, Chen Ping'an sat quietly in the chair, his hands resting casually on his legs, his posture lazy and not forced.
But.
Now, Chen Ping'an finally possessed an indescribable sharpness. Even if he didn't speak, whether sitting, lying, or standing, the fist intent that flowed through him like a swift flood was dazzling and eye-catching to any martial arts expert!
The pink-skirted girl found it strange, and the green-clad child even more so. That was why the child had been desperately cultivating every day.
The most valuable aspect of this training was that no matter how fierce and brutal the old man's tempering was, it never altered the youth's original nature in the slightest. Whether on or off the mountain, one rule applies: when it comes to teaching the Dao, a famous teacher is less important than an enlightened one. The old man was undoubtedly a first-rate enlightened teacher of the martial path. An enlightened teacher is not necessarily a top expert, just like the Li clan's ancestor thought that Zhu He, a mere fifth-rank martial artist, was a well-deserved enlightened teacher. But it would be strange if this old man, who locked himself in the bamboo pavilion every day, were not a martial grandmaster.
"Above the ninth rank, there are even greater sights"—who could say something like that? For instance, Zhu He firmly believed that the mountain peak realm of the ninth rank was the final stop and the end of the martial path.
The pink-skirted girl asked quietly, "Master, are you not very happy today?"
Chen Ping'an asked, "Are you talking about the old senior's sudden killing?"
The pink-skirted girl timidly glanced at the second floor, afraid of causing trouble for her master.
Chen Ping'an didn't give a clear answer but said softly, "During my last trip far away, I encountered a female ghost in a wedding dress somewhere. She was deeply in love with a scholar... I don't know how to describe it, but she killed many innocent passing scholars for that. I think she was wrong, and not just a little wrong—it's not something that can be made up for. But what could I do? At that time, Bao Ping, Li Huai, and the others were all with me. I couldn't just act on impulse. Also, I thought at the time that maybe I was thinking too shallowly, and I wasn't sure."
The pink-skirted girl asked curiously, "Master, what do you think now?"
Chen Ping'an clenched his fists, resting them on his knees, his eyes clear, and laughed, "That was wrong! Next time I see her, I probably still won't be able to reason with her, but that's okay! The time after that! And the time after that! There will always be a chance!"
The pink-skirted girl smiled.
This kind of master was a bit different from the previous, gloomy one, but better.
Chen Ping'an silently told himself.
First, survive.
—
The night was heavy. A young Daoist wearing a lotus crown pushed a wheelbarrow with a gaudy signboard—just like those fortune-telling stalls would have—on the official road leading to Huaihuang County. The wheels creaked incessantly on the road.
He was the young Daoist with the surname Lu who had been a shoddy fortune-teller in the small town for many years.
A yellow sparrow suddenly broke through the night, emerged from a ripple, came to an abrupt stop, and landed on the young Daoist's shoulder, rubbing its beak affectionately against his cheek.
The young Daoist's smile was brilliant. He freed one hand to gently pat the sparrow's head. "I know, I know. It's been hard on you, pecking at those copper coins and examining the literary fortunes. What can I do? Qi Jingchun is such a formidable chess player. Look, in the end, we didn't figure out Qi Jingchun's hidden moves, did we? Well, this loss, I still accept it. Who can blame my master for being partial? Obviously, I'm his worst disciple in both chess and fortune-telling, and the worst at fighting. But in the end, all the thankless, bitter tasks are left for me. Isn't that making things difficult for me?"
The young Daoist chattered like a gossipy housewife, complaining about this and that, without any immortal aura.
The yellow sparrow suddenly pecked the young Daoist's earlobe.
The young Daoist seemed to understand the sparrow's intention and laughed heartily, "So what if immortals are also human?"
His eyes lit up, and he snickered, imitating a monk by placing his palm upright against his chest. It was a clumsy and ridiculous imitation at best, but at worst, it was a blasphemy against the Daoist orthodoxy.
The young Daoist was not serious at all, muttering softly, "Blessed Buddha and Bodhisattvas, please let this little Daoist return to that small town safely. Peace and prosperity, definitely peace and prosperity. Hmm, last time I prayed to you, it worked, didn't it? In the end, I didn't have to fight Qi Jingchun to the death. So take care of me again this time? First time strangers, second time friends. From now on, we'll be buddies!"
The young Daoist looked ahead.
In his eyes, the small town under the night sky was clearly visible in every detail.
Whether it was after the Pearldrop Cave Heaven descended and lost its protective array, or before it broke apart when the mystical prohibitions were intact, it was all the same to this young Daoist—no difference at all.
The young Daoist extended a finger and tapped lightly on his ancient Daoist crown, as if pondering a troubling question.
His name was Lu Chen.
He was the very knot that made Qi Jingchun's death inevitable, regardless of whether he left the Pearldrop Cave Heaven or not.
But Qi Jingchun, unexpectedly, took a big step back. So the young Daoist followed by taking a small step back.