Chapter 210: Mountains and Waters Meet Again
Chen Ping'an held the title of honored guest, but he was no delicate or pampered figure, so he didn't actually need the two maidservants to attend to him. The young girl Qiushi thus turned her attention outward, becoming something of a well-informed gossip every day, recounting the strange characters and amusing incidents that had recently occurred on the Kun boat. Whether Chen Ping'an enjoyed hearing them or not was none of her concern—after all, the shabby boy from Dali was easy to talk to.
The girl chattered on, saying that at the gambling stalls, someone had bet on rough stones and uncovered a rare piece of fine jade, which contained a precious jade marrow. When it was cut open, it emitted a dazzling fluorescence, bright and eye-catching, worth at least thirty thousand snowflake jade coins. A huge fortune had been made!
At the weapons shop run by Pockmarked Liu, two groups of big spenders had clashed over the same spiritual artifact. Because of a grudge, they started bidding against each other, and the price kept climbing. In the end, the fellow who had boarded at the Dali Wutong Mountain ferry port was even more generous. A halberd originally priced at eight thousand snowflake jade coins ended up costing nearly twenty thousand. This made the girl both envious and pained—who spent money so lavishly? Did they think money grew on trees?
Someone else had been causing a drunken scene at Apricot Flower Lane, wailing loudly and shouting a girl's name heart-wrenchingly, disturbing many nearby guests. Finally, the manager of Apricot Flower Lane had him dragged away and gave him a thorough beating. The next day, he came back, but this time he didn't dare to shout. He just crouched by the street outside Apricot Flower Lane, gnawing on a dry pancake, gazing infatuatedly at the pavilion of his beloved girl, with snot and tears streaming down his face, eating them together with the dry pancake.
He was a young cultivator at the fourth realm. It turned out he had spent all his money and taken a fancy to a beautiful young virgin courtesan who was as pure as a white lotus. For the past two months, he had been wasting his time there in romantic dalliance, lost in love. That wasn't even the worst part—rumor had it that the cultivator was a devoted lover who still hadn't even touched the courtesan's hand. He was truly a gentleman.
When Qiushi talked about these things, she went on and on, embellishing them so vividly that she was more entertaining than a professional storyteller. But Chen Ping'an just listened and let it slide.
Chen Ping'an's interest lay less with the boat itself and more with what was beneath his feet.
One evening, as the Kun boat encountered strong gale winds and had to descend in altitude, Chen Ping'an spotted a stretch of land on the map where fierce flames raged, smoke filled the air, and pillars of smoke drifted in the sky like crooked saplings in a field. Chunshui, who knew many inside stories about Bottle Gourd Continent, consulted geographic maps in the study and quickly concluded that this was a bloody battle involving the national fortunes of both sides. Two opposing dynasties that had been feuding for generations, after hundreds of years of protracted warfare, had finally staked everything on a single throw, mobilizing their entire national strength and dispatching a large number of Qi refiners.
After this battle, both sides would inevitably suffer severe losses. As a result, in the northern part of Bottle Gourd Continent, bounded by the Guanhu Academy, the number of dynasties that could rival the barbarians of the Dali Song clan, apart from the Great Sui Gao clan which valued both civil and military pursuits, became increasingly scarce.
Chunshui gazed at the land of devastation below and sighed softly, "If the fighting is fierce enough, a new ancient battlefield site might appear on Bottle Gourd Continent. Decades from now, when the qi stabilizes, a sage from True Martial Mountain or Wind Snow Temple should take up residence there, making it a new military domain."
Chen Ping'an looked at the ground where brilliant lights occasionally flashed. From the observation deck, he could even see gold and silver armored warriors the size of fingernails wrestling with giant beasts that had burst forth from the earth. Chen Ping'an guessed they were Qi refiners with supernatural powers locked in combat.
Besides that, there were many other sights that left Chen Ping'an's mind blank.
A flock of cranes let out long cries, slowly ascending, emerging from the sea of clouds and flapping their wings into higher clouds, like a flowing painting.
Wild geese flew south in formation. A rolling pillar of clouds flashed with lightning and thunder. Qi refiners who could fly hovered outside the cloud pillar, using unique magical tools to draw lightning and store it away. There was even a grand Qi refiner riding a blue luan bird, its speed far surpassing the Kun boat, flashing past in an instant, a flow of precious light surrounding it.
Chen Ping'an had heard that the Kun boat had a special "letter shop" for transmitting messages via flying swords, similar to post stations in the mortal world. So he wrote two letters and entrusted them to Qiushi to send. Since the letters contained no secrets—mainly just reporting his safety and telling some strange things he had heard from Qiushi—even if someone read them, it wouldn't matter. However, the price at the letter shop was extremely expensive. One letter to Dali's Longquan County cost ten snowflake jade coins—currency used exclusively by mountain immortals—while one to the Great Sui Cliff Academy cost even more, twenty coins. Chen Ping'an was so shocked that he gave up the idea of sending a letter to each person. The recipient in Dali was Wei Bo, and the one at the Great Sui Academy was Li Baoping, asking them to pass on the message.
Standing on the observation deck, Chen Ping'an noticed, with Chunshui's guidance, a small standalone building near the railing that occasionally emitted faint glimmers, hard to detect. Chunshui smiled and patiently explained, "Mice have their paths, birds have their ways, and flying swords carrying messages are the same. At a certain layer of the sky, it's most suitable for flying swords to travel long distances with minimal resistance. There are Qi refiners who make a living by diligently opening up special channels at this altitude. All message-carrying flying swords in the world, once they ascend, head for this 'narrow path.' Disciples of major sects all know this rule, so when they fly long distances, they actively avoid it."
Qiushi had just returned to the study and leaned against the threshold, grinning, "It's not like there aren't clueless wild Qi refiners who barely learn to fly and think they can soar freely. They blunder into that path and end up hitting something, getting all bruised and battered. That's if they're lucky. If they're unlucky, they get pierced through the eye or neck, fall from a great height, and die on the spot, turning into a pile of mud. How pitiful!"
Chen Ping'an asked a very naive question: "Isn't there anyone out there so bored that they intercept message-carrying flying swords?"
Qiushi nodded, "Of course there are! There are plenty of Qi refiners who can't think straight. However, this narrow path for flying swords is commonly called the 'Cloud Pattern Path.' There are specially assigned Cloud Pattern cultivators who keep an eye on it, just hoping to make a fortune from this. They'd love for some fool to try to become a robber. A few message-carrying flying swords aren't worth much, but once they catch a robber, they can demand a huge compensation. If the robber is penniless, they'll go after the secular dynasty the robber is affiliated with. If it's a wild cultivator without any records and with no money, then there's no way around it—they have to accept the loss. After all, the damage isn't great."
Speaking of this, Qiushi looked envious, "The Qi refiners in charge of the Cloud Pattern Path are all filthy rich! Every time they board a boat for a long journey, at the very least, they stay in middle-class accommodations."
Chunshui said softly, "Actually, truly ancient immortal clans with thousand-year legacies generally don't use flying swords to send messages. There are many mysterious secret arts in the world that allow people to chat face-to-face, as it were. For example, a pair of mother-son elm coins: if you stroke one with a spell and speak, the other coin placed elsewhere will automatically vibrate and produce sound, so the other person can hear you."
Chen Ping'an marveled.
Qiushi watched Chen Ping'an, who listened with a serious and attentive expression, wondering how such a poor boy had managed to make friends with the Dali Northern Peak True Deity. Just how big a pile of dog shit had he stepped in?
Fortunately, Chen Ping'an was poor and didn't pretend otherwise. He asked questions when he didn't understand and never tried to save face by bluffing. This made Qiushi, who was naturally simple-minded, feel that this was a good thing. If someone had no money but still liked to show off, and didn't understand anything but pretended to know, that would be both pitiful and annoying.
After more idle chat, the two sisters inevitably brought up their hometown, Northern Ju Lu Continent.
Ju Lu Continent had the most sword cultivators—more than anywhere else, in fact.
Sword cultivators had immense killing power, so naturally there were many arrogant ones. How arrogant? To give the simplest example: Saha Continent was in the south, Bottle Gourd Continent was in the south, so they were commonly called Southern Saha and Eastern Bottle Gourd. Ju Lu Continent was clearly in the northeast of Haoran World, yet it stubbornly called itself Northern Ju Lu, which forced the truly northern continent, Ai Ai Continent, to drop the "Northern" and just be Ai Ai.
Even Chunshui, who was gentle by nature, would show a hint of pride when talking about Ju Lu Continent, though she herself didn't realize it. Qiushi was even more so, frequently saying "our" Northern Ju Lu Continent was this and that, while "your" Bottle Gourd Continent wasn't so great. When she talked about these things, the girl's eyes sparkled, and she looked as proud as a little oriole.
Then one day, Chen Ping'an finally prepared to leave this Heaven-grade room.
This made even Chunshui pleasantly surprised, and Qiushi jumped for joy, repeatedly shouting "Young Master Chen" and bowing to thank him.
This made Chen Ping'an feel a bit guilty.
It turned out that Qiushi had brought a big piece of news: tonight, at the bow of the Kun boat, a hanging scroll of flowers and birds, a heirloom from Dajiao Mountain, would be displayed. It could show scenes from thousands of miles away. Chen Ping'an wasn't particularly surprised by this, because that snowy night, the blue-clad child had brought out a bowl of water, and within the water screen, he could clearly see the immortal Su Jia riding her sword.
Chen Ping'an wasn't going to broaden his horizons; he had to go, because the people and events to be shown on the flower-and-bird scroll were related to him.
Sunrise Mountain and Wind Thunder Garden were about to publicly hold a life-or-death battle. This news came suddenly, with no warning, catching the entire Bottle Gourd Continent off guard.
Moreover, even fragmentary rumors spreading across the continent already sent chills down people's spines.
These two top-tier sword cultivation sects on Bottle Gourd Continent would each send three generations of sword cultivators—old, middle-aged, and young—to fight in pairs.
For the younger generation, it was only about victory or defeat, not life or death.
For the middle generation, they could decide on victory or defeat or life or death as they wished. But everyone on Bottle Gourd Continent knew that once members of these two sects met outside their mountain gates, they might kill each other outright. At this critical moment involving sect honor, given the temperaments of Sunrise Mountain and Wind Thunder Garden, they would most likely fight to the death.
As for the two oldest patriarchs, it would be a battle to the death!
The air was filled with killing intent.
Before the swords were even drawn, the spectators could already smell the thick scent of blood.
The sword cultivator representing Sunrise Mountain's younger generation was none other than the immortal Su Jia, a cultivation genius who possessed a high-grade sword-raising gourd.
On Wind Thunder Garden's side, it would be a direct disciple of the Garden Master, someone with little renown—almost unknown—and even less famous than his junior brother Liu Baqiao. But for such a peak battle attracting the entire continent's attention, Wind Thunder Garden would not treat it lightly!
Chen Ping'an took the two maids downstairs and headed toward the bow.
The flower-and-bird scroll, a heirloom from Dajiao Mountain, was painted with lifelike multicolored birds that flew around on the scroll and made various crisp, ethereal sounds. When the scroll was fully extended and hung in the air above the bow, it was five to six zhang long and two zhang wide. Up close, it looked enormous. If one watched it from a high-rise room in the distance, even though many cultivators on the boat could see it clearly, they would still find it unsatisfying.
Moreover, when sword cultivators drew their swords, they were as fast as thunder, as subtle as a hair, but with the force of a thunderbolt.
The subtle sword intent contained in the sword path was fleeting, so close observation was the best choice.
Thus, the viewing positions were divided into different grades. The three standalone courtyard houses in the front row not only had fruit and snacks prepared, but also beautiful handmaidens trained by the boat at great expense by hiring some heterodox sects, along with a few popular courtesans from Apricot Flower Lane. Whether those three groups of people would appreciate the gesture was another matter.
Behind them were guests like Chen Ping'an who stayed in Heaven-grade rooms. If they were in a good mood, they could bring the maids from their rooms and go alone, which was perfectly acceptable.
Since it was forbidden to use magical powers without permission and hovering in midair was improper—if everyone tried to get a higher vantage point, it would cause chaos and likely lead to trouble—the boat strictly forbade guests from flying up into the air. No negotiation.
So most people just carried chairs and stools, much like commoners at a market fair gathering to watch a temple festival.
Chunshui and Qiushi were young but experienced with such matters. A steward helped clear the way, allowing them to reach their seats without obstruction, which were in an excellent position.
This caused the inconspicuous straw-sandal-wearing boy to attract many curious looks.
Was he a spoiled descendant of a wealthy clan with a weird temper who liked to pretend to be poor?
Otherwise, why wear straw sandals? Was he going to weed the fields or transplant rice seedlings?
Three large rosewood chairs with a small table between each pair held a small dish of a specialty tea from Ju Lu Continent called "Bitter Sparrow's Tongue." It didn't need to be brewed with spring water; one simply chewed the leaves raw. At first, it was astringent, then gradually bitter, and after about half an incense stick's time, it transformed completely, becoming sweet and refreshing far beyond ordinary tea. Thus, it was nicknamed "Half-Incense-Stick Tea."
Since the battle had not yet begun, the three of them had nothing to do. Chunshui explained the tea's benefits to Chen Ping'an, who was chewing the leaves.
It turned out that this tea could clear the liver and improve eyesight. It was a favorite among the wealthy families of the three continents. Literary masters and great scholars who had no shortage of money particularly liked to gift this spiritual tea. In some dynasties that revered the Way of Tea, this tea had fostered a trend of "elegant bribery." It wasn't just a few liang or half a jin of Bitter Sparrow's Tongue, but whole boxes given as gifts. When officials were exiled, friends seeing them off would scrape together money to buy some Bitter Sparrow's Tongue, symbolizing the hope that "bitterness ends and sweetness comes."
In addition, there were various exquisite pastries and spiritual fruits, all expensive, but they paled in comparison to the hard-to-find Bitter Sparrow's Tongue.
The connection between the mountain world and the mortal world was much tighter than Chen Ping'an had imagined. There might be a chasm between them, but bridges were built across it, and all sorts of reciprocal exchanges brought huge profits.
Chen Ping'an listened to Chunshui's words while subtly observing his surroundings. Most of his attention was on the three groups of guests at the front—clearly wealthy people among the mountain immortals.
The boat had come from Ju Lu Continent, so while there was a possibility of round-trip business, most travelers were natives of Ju Lu Continent. Even children carried swords, albeit shorter ones.
But regardless of whether they were women, children, or old men, as long as they wore a sword, it was never flashy. There were almost no unnecessary decorations; the scabbards weren't inlaid with rare gems, nor were there any ornate sword tassels.
Directly in front of Chen Ping'an was a large family. A very tall woman sat in the main seat. She had high cheekbones and was definitely not beautiful, but she had an imposing manner. She habitually pursed her lips and squinted when looking at people.
Beside her was an elegantly dressed man who was attentively running errands. He had a handsome face like jade, but whenever he spoke to the woman, he wore a fawning smile and hunched his back, not at all like the head of the household. If not for the chair he sat on giving him away, he would have looked more like a kept man for a wanton noblewoman.
He held a child of four or five years old in his arms. The child looked like his father, delicate and adorable, but his demeanor was entirely like his mother—not so cute.
An elderly woman with white hair and wrinkled skin served as the family's tutor-handmaiden. Next to her stood a pretty maid whose temperament matched the old woman's—very cold.
There was also a tall, sturdy middle-aged man sitting on the woman's left. Occasionally, he would turn his head to look at the fawning man, a hint of mockery curling at the corner of his mouth. If their eyes met, the man wouldn't hide his contempt; instead, he would openly sneer, and the man who should have been the head of the household would nod and smile ingratiatingly.
Chen Ping'an took in all these details while pretending to admire the scroll.
Qiushi couldn't help staring for a moment, but quickly had her arm pinched by Chunshui. Unexpectedly, the tall man leaned back, turned his head, and grinned with a cold smile, revealing a row of gleaming white teeth. Qiushi was so frightened that she quickly lowered her head, not daring to breathe.
After the man turned back, Chunshui angrily stomped on Qiushi's foot, making her gasp in pain and look at her sister with a mournful expression.
On the far left sat an old man in a Confucian robe, wearing a worn-out mink hat. He had taken off his boots and was sitting cross-legged, curled up in a large chair, looking somewhat comical.
On the right were two young sword cultivators, a man and a woman. They appeared to be in their early twenties, but their actual ages were hard to say.
The young man had a sword lying across his knees, lightly tapping the scabbard.
The woman, besides having a long sword at her waist, wore no pearl hairpins in her bun—instead, a small blunt sword. From the handle of this small sword hung a snow-white bead the size of a soybean, gleaming brightly and openly.
Wasn't this blatantly announcing to the world that she possessed a rare treasure?
Probably this was a case of "great skill gives great courage," Chen Ping'an could only explain it that way.
In short, the three groups occupying the best front positions all seemed formidable.
Chen Ping'an took a deep breath, focused his mind, and stared unblinkingly at the scroll.
Sunrise Mountain, Guardian Mountain Ape. One of his enemies.
Moreover, it was a major enemy that must be avenged.
Wind Thunder Garden's Liu Baqiao was also an old acquaintance. It seemed he had taken a liking to the fairy Su Jia of Sunrise Mountain. Back then, Lady Ning had asked Liu Baqiao a very embarrassing question.
Chen Ping'an sat in his chair, then suddenly remembered something and told Chunshui and Qiushi to eat the Bitter Sparrow's Tongue tea leaves.
But this time, even Qiushi shook her head vigorously.
Chunshui quietly pointed at the Kun boat steward standing in the periphery. Chen Ping'an understood and asked, "Can I take some back with me? Or can I only eat the tea here?"
Chunshui's pretty face flushed slightly, and she said timidly, "Young Master, you can take it away, but it seems no one has ever done that before."
Chen Ping'an grinned broadly, grabbed a couple of liang of tea leaves, and put them in his sleeve pocket, raising his voice slightly, "Such good tea leaves—I'll have to go back to my room and savor them slowly, take my time."
Chen Ping'an quietly awaited the start of the great battle.
But just then, a somewhat familiar voice softly sounded in his heart lake, calling out to him, "Chen Ping'an."
Chen Ping'an instinctively wanted to look around but quickly suppressed the impulse. With his excellent memory, he soon remembered someone.
When he had first seen her at his hometown's Green Ox Ridge, he had felt that she and her companion seemed like a pair of immortals walking out of a painting—a golden boy and a jade girl, a divine couple.
Her name should be He Xiaoliang.
This fairy maiden from the Divine Edict Sect, who was said to be extremely famous, was also the one whom the blue-clad child admired most, even more than Su Jia. The child had once said a half-joking, half-serious nonsense: if he ever had the chance to touch Fairy He's hand, he wouldn't hesitate to cut his life short by a hundred years.
That voice continued to sound softly in Chen Ping'an's heart: "Could you come back to the room for a while? I have something to discuss. Usually, there are too many eyes and ears, so I have to take this opportunity to talk to you."
After weighing the pros and cons, Chen Ping'an glanced at the vermilion wine gourd at his waist and silently replied, "Alright."
Chen Ping'an stood up and told Chunshui he needed to go back to his room for a moment and would be right back.
Chunshui wanted to lead the way, but Chen Ping'an smiled and said it wasn't necessary—a short distance like that, he wouldn't get lost.
He took the key from her hand and silently left the crowd.
---
Stools and chairs, a sea of people.
At the very back stood a down-and-out Daoist priest carrying a peachwood sword on his back. He didn't have the strength to compete for a spot, and being of a shy, unassuming nature, he just stood there dumbfounded, at a loss. He also held a stool in his hand, but he found that the rows of benches and stools were packed with spectators, some even with children perched on their shoulders. Even standing on his stool, he couldn't see a glimpse of the scroll.
He had only barely reached the third realm, far from reaching the fifth realm where one could "suck in wind and drink dew, abstain from grains." The Kun boat's journey south from Ju Lu Continent was long, and getting off the boat was difficult. Only Qi refiners at the fifth realm's Cave Dwelling stage could barely manage to fly. Jumping off the Kun boat and gliding gracefully to the ground was beyond most at the Viewing Ocean stage. Only great cultivators at the eighth realm, the Dragon Gate stage, could break free from the constraints of heaven and earth and truly ride the wind.
The reason for his predicament on this southward journey was twofold. First, in a moment of foolishness, he had bought two expensive talismans that had drained his funds. Second, after a dangerous fight to slay a demon and secure a precious pearl, he had hoped to sell it at a fair price. But on the Kun boat, the negotiation fell through. The shops were willing to buy, but the price was too low. The young Daoist had originally planned to use this income to patch up his finances and tide over the difficulty. If there was a little surplus, he might even have treated himself to a mid-grade room.
Truly, man proposes, heaven disposes.
Poverty stumps even a hero, and he wasn't even a hero—just a poor wretch who wanted to slay demons but found events turning against him.
A true "Zhang Heavenly Master" would never have accepted money to catch a demon and then caused an honest family to be ruined.
Of the two children in that family who had survived, they were simple and innocent and didn't blame him for his incompetence, but the young Daoist blamed himself.
At the thought of this, his eyes reddened. He put down the stool, sat on it, and rested his hands on his knees. The young man carrying a peachwood sword felt lost. He suddenly wondered if he had been wrong from the start—giving up the imperial examinations to seek immortality, visiting Daoist masters, and then rushing down the mountain with incomplete training, eager to eliminate demons.
Thinking of the truly painful parts, the guilt-ridden young Daoist wiped his eyes, raised a hand, and lightly pounded his chest, as if that could make him feel better.
Then he suddenly saw a hand in front of him, holding a beautifully carved jade pendant inscribed with "Dajiao Mountain, Heaven-grade." He looked up and saw a dark-skinned but handsome young face. The boy grinned and said, "I'm staying in a Heaven-grade room. If you really want to see the scroll, you can borrow this. Go to the second row and find two girls named Chunshui and Qiushi. Say... you're a friend of Chen Ping'an. They're easy to recognize because they're twin sisters and look very alike."
The young Daoist gaped, stunned and speechless.
Chen Ping'an shoved the jade pendant into his arms, turned and trotted away, looking back with a smile, "Remember to give it back to me after you sit down!"
As he ran, Chen Ping'an thought, this young Daoist was really taking things too hard. Just because he couldn't see the flower-and-bird scroll clearly, he was so heartbroken? A grown man crying like that—was he also an admirer of the fairy Su Jia, like Liu Baqiao and the blue-clad child?
But that wasn't the real reason Chen Ping'an had given him the pendant.
Chen Ping'an had simply remembered himself at age five, walking through the closed doors of the muddy bottle alley again and again on a winter evening, crying in secret.
Anyway, they were all on the same boat. This Daoist, who looked even poorer than him, couldn't run away. Even if he did lose the jade pendant, he could temporarily add it to Wei Bo's account and pay Wei Bo back later. He believed that Dajiao Mountain, having already given him such a favor, wouldn't mind giving a little more.
And if worst came to worst, he had money in his inch-object "Fifteen"!
---
In the study of the room Chen Ping'an was temporarily staying in, a young female Daoist in a loose Daoist robe sat behind a table, gently flipping through pages covered in standard script.
She was breathtakingly beautiful.
The Daoist nun rested her cheek on one hand as she turned the pages, looking languid.
At this moment, she was probably most likely to move Wei Jin of Wind Snow Temple, making the youngest sword immortal on Bottle Gourd Continent drink one fine vintage after another, never able to drown his sorrows. Drinking to forget only made the sorrow worse, torturing the carefree sword immortal who had traveled the rivers and lakes and seen all the landscapes until his heart was broken.
Chapter 211: A Match Made in Heaven
The young Daoist, his heart full of sweat, clutched the jade pendant and squeezed into the crowded sea of people, drawing countless curses along the way. When a steward from Dajiao Mountain standing near the Heaven-grade seats noticed this rash young man, he frowned and walked over, about to question him. But the young man opened his hand to reveal the exquisite jade pendant engraved with "Heaven-grade, Room B." The steward immediately put on a kindly expression and asked softly, "Are you the guest of Room B?"
Since the Dajiao Mountain Kun boat had been familiar with the general appearances of the valued guests for over half a month, the steward asked this question.
The young Daoist mustered his courage and said, "I am Zhang Shan, a wandering cultivator. Although I am a distant branch of the Zhang clan of Dragon Tiger Mountain, I have not yet been formally registered in the qingci sect's Daoist register under the Ju Lu Continent Dragon Tiger Mountain lower sect. I am... a friend of Chen Ping'an, who stays in Room B. I came late because of some matters, so I'm here to see Miss Chunshui and Miss Qiushi."
As soon as he said this, the young man regretted it, feeling that he had been too impulsive and presumptuous. He shouldn't have accepted the jade pendant and then acted so ungratefully. He was a sensitive and introverted person who tended to dwell on things, and for a moment he was lost in thought, feeling that he always seemed to act this way—getting worked up about learning skills, acting on impulse when slaying demons, and now this.
As the young man carrying the peachwood sword wallowed in regret and fear, the steward, now reassured, smiled even more warmly and extended a hand, gesturing for the young Daoist to proceed. The middle-aged steward said respectfully, "Please follow me, Immortal Master Zhang."
Later, after arriving near the seats and hearing the situation, Chunshui voluntarily gave up her chair. Dajiao Mountain added another rosewood chair, and the young Daoist sat down, feeling as if he were in a dream.
Since the graceful maid had just left the chair, there was still residual warmth when he sat down. This made the young Daoist extremely uncomfortable. He blushed easily, so he quickly shifted his weight, daring only to sit on the edge of the chair, as if he would be defiling the girl if he didn't do so.
Qiushi found this amusing.
Although Chunshui was curious about how Chen Ping'an had come to know this down-and-out Daoist, she didn't show it. She sat on the newly added chair beside the young Daoist. As a maid from a major immortal sect, learning to read people was basic training. Qiushi might have noticed something, but Chunshui certainly didn't miss it. She pursed her lips slightly and unconsciously compared this peripheral Daoist from Dragon Tiger Mountain, whom she had seen multiple times on the observation deck, with her guest Chen Ping'an. Both were of humble origin and traveling far, both seeing the big world for the first time. Yet Chen Ping'an, being younger, was obviously much more composed and wouldn't be so nervous.
The young Daoist was uneasy. He suddenly remembered something and quickly turned around, handing over the jade pendant, "Miss, this is Chen Ping'an's jade token. Please return it to him."
Chunshui didn't take the jade pendant without permission. She said gently, "Young Master Chen went out and will be back soon. Please return it to him yourself, Immortal Master Zhang."
Meeting those eyes, rippling like spring water, at such close range, the peachwood Daoist blushed again. He stammered and took back his hand, displaying none of the bearing of an immortal master or a person of style.
The young Daoist was very thirsty, but he only saw a dish of tea leaves and no water. Too embarrassed to ask, he held it in.
The girl Qiushi, who found this young Daoist amusing, picked up a leaf of the Bitter Sparrow's Tongue cold tea and put it in her mouth, teasing him, "Immortal Master Zhang, this tea is meant to be eaten like this. No need to brew it over a fire."
Chunshui was a bit helpless but couldn't scold her sister for her rude impudence at the moment.
She knew that if this person had been narrow-minded and prejudiced, he would have held a grudge.
Fortunately, the young Daoist was gentle-natured. He just blushed deeply, pinched two leaves with his fingers, and put them into his mouth, chewing lightly.
Then his expression became extremely interesting.
It was like a child tasting a sour orange or coptis for the first time, almost trembling all over.
Qiushi covered her mouth and giggled. Teasing this young Daoist was so much fun.
Chunshui, however, was a little puzzled.
One detail the young Daoist had inadvertently revealed: when he pinched the leaves, his index finger was below and his middle finger above, an action typical of picking up Go stones after years of practice. It was so natural that he didn't even notice.
If he had come from a poor family as a low-level Qi refiner, he might never have had a chance to even see a Go board. After all, music, chess, calligraphy, and painting were all pursuits of the wealthy. Even if one became a mountain person, chess required intense concentration and was bottomless. A Qi refiner below the fifth realm, unless he had loved it since childhood, would never have been distracted by learning it. Was cultivating the soul more important? Or was persisting like dripping water wearing through stone to increase cultivation more important?
Seeing the small details revealed the big picture. Chunshui understood—this was what made it truly interesting.
Chen Ping'an, living in the Heaven-grade room, was a boy from the alleys and lanes, yet he could stand on the observation deck every day to practice boxing and watch the sea of clouds.
This shy, reserved young Daoist, on the other hand, was most likely a scion of a scholarly family steeped in classical learning for generations. His worldly status wasn't too bad, but in the mountain world crowded with immortals, it was completely inadequate. In the end, he could only walk on the deck of the Kun boat.
Chunshui inadvertently noticed that the child sitting in the front row, held in the arms of the timid man, turned his head and smiled at her.
Chunshui returned a polite smile.
She thought to herself, the first great test under heaven should be reincarnation, right?
The child, meanwhile, was thinking, such a pretty older sister—he really should buy her and bring her home to be his personal maid. When his hands got cold turning pages in winter, he would have her warm them.
The child, who took after his father, tugged at the woman's sleeve. Although the woman usually looked aloof, she was extremely doting toward the child. She smiled and leaned down. The child whispered his idea.
The woman turned her head to look at Chunshui behind her, her eyes indifferent, then said to her son with a smile, "Her talent is too poor. Forget about the fifth realm; even if we piled up all the heaven-and-earth treasures on her, it would be a pipe dream. Don't worry. When we get off the boat at Old Dragon City, Mother will find you a Cave Dwelling realm woman to be your maid."
The woman spoke of getting a fifth-realm woman as a handmaiden, and not only did the child believe it, but no one around thought it was absurd.
The woman didn't try to hide her words. Chunshui's face turned pale.
Never having hope of reaching the fifth realm.
That thought filled her with despair.
The woman turned her head again and glanced at Qiushi. "Oh, this little girl still has some hope. But she doesn't look like she'd bear children well—not as cheerful as that one. Son, do you like this one? If you do, Mother can ask Dajiao Mountain to sell her."
The child followed his mother's gaze and turned to look, then said disdainfully, "Skinny and bony, just like Mother—I don't like her."
The tall but gaunt woman wasn't angry at all. She rubbed her child's head and laughed heartily, like an owl screeching on a branch—eerie and terrifying.
Qiushi looked blank.
Her sister Chunshui lowered her eyes, her beautiful hands like green onions resting on her knees, veins showing.
---
Although he had a good impression of the Daoist nun, Chen Ping'an still used his mind to contact the sword-raising gourds, First and Fifteen.
After receiving a response, he felt a little more at ease.
Whether something falling from heaven was a meat pie or a rock, he had to be careful.
When Old Man Yao drank, he used to say things that the disciples and apprentices enjoyed hearing, speaking mysteriously. Back then, Liu Xianyang would get impatient, and the old man's other disciples just thought the old drunk's ramblings were friendlier than his usual frowning lectures, and they didn't care about the content.
Everyone had their own fate. Those with thick fate were like the stone-paved roads of Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Lane; even if the sky dropped knives, they could still walk unimpeded. Those with thin fate were like the muddy paths in small alleys; a little rain turned them into a quagmire. Those with even thinner fate were like a layer of paper—broken at a touch. Even if heaven granted them good things, it became a bad thing because they couldn't hold on to it.
Chen Ping'an always sat in the farthest spot, silently remembering.
Interestingly, Old Man Yao was least willing to talk to the apprentice Chen Ping'an on normal days, but the things he said were precisely what Chen Ping'an took most seriously and believed the most.
If a bad person did one good deed, how rare was that? How many people could wait for it? But if a good person did one bad deed, as long as it fell on you, you'd likely have no time to cry.
Chen Ping'an didn't want this meeting to be some conspiracy.
If it were an unavoidable bad thing, he guessed it was most likely related to the sword in the wooden sword case on his back. Even with Wei Bo, Ruan Qiong, and Old Man Yang joining forces to conceal it, some trace might have been revealed.
Chen Ping'an slowly climbed the stairs, opened the door, and entered. The Divine Edict Sect Daoist nun was not in the main hall. He looked around and finally saw the woman standing by the study table.
The beautiful Daoist nun was dressed in a Daoist robe, but she had removed the fish-tail crown she always wore, replacing it with a lotus crown. The Divine Edict Sect she belonged to was a rather bizarre existence within the Daoist lineage—its doctrines were complex and mixed, with inheritance chaos, and all three branches of Daoism had incense and offerings there. It was a messy account.
He Xiaoliang rested one hand on the bookcase and said directly, "Chen Ping'an, I came to see you this time as a favor to someone. Master Lu..."
The word "Master" almost slipped out, but He Xiaoliang changed it calmly, "...Lu Chen. He is the Daoist who once went to Mud Vase Alley. He is currently in Longquan Town, but it's inconvenient for him to see you, so he asked me to retrieve a prescription—the last one, the one stamped with the four-character vermilion seal. In addition, he asked me to return this to you..."
He Xiaoliang smiled slightly, "A snake gallstone. From now on, you and he are even. You go your way, and he goes his. He said personally, 'If we have a chance to meet again in the future, we can sit down, and have a glass of wine with peach blossoms and spring breeze.'"
Chen Ping'an both breathed a sigh of relief and felt a lump in his throat.
It wasn't about the sword forged by Ruan Qiong. It was specifically targeted at him.
He Xiaoliang smiled, "He also asked me to tell you to take care of yourself from now on and make sure to get off the boat at Nanjian Kingdom."
Chen Ping'an nodded, "Alright."
He Xiaoliang pointed to the table in the main hall. The two sat opposite each other. He Xiaoliang thought for a moment, then swept her hand across the table. A square, smooth, warm-looking imperial jade seal appeared—a so-called "fallen kingdom's heirloom seal." This was an "at-hand object," even rarer than the already precious "inch objects." Young Cui Chan had carried one with him. Back then, on the summit of the Great Sui Academy's Eastern Mountain, he had pulled out dozens of magical artifacts from it, earning the title "Cui Clan's Old Ancestor" in one night.
Then He Xiaoliang reached out and lifted it. Above the at-hand object of the jade seal floated an ancient inkstone engraved with cloud seal script. From that inkstone emerged a jade ancient book. From the jade book floated a small lotus leaf. Finally, from the inch-object lotus leaf rolled out a snake gallstone—the very one Chen Ping'an had given to He Xiaoliang to pass to Lu Chen.
One at-hand object, three inch objects.
This was silent showing off of wealth.
Moreover, it was a masterstroke of showing off.
Probably any tenth-realm Qi refiner under heaven would pop their eyes out at the sight.
Most people could at best lie around and make money, but He Xiaoliang just lay around and welcomed fortune.
He Xiaoliang put away the lotus leaf, the jade book, the inkstone, and the jade seal, then gently pushed the snake gallstone toward Chen Ping'an.
Seeing that Chen Ping'an seemed hesitant to accept the snake gallstone, He Xiaoliang said frankly, "Don't worry. Lu Chen won't pull any tricks this time. Just as he personally guaranteed this meeting between us—no matter what I do or say, he won't use his divine powers to spy. If he says it, you and I can trust it."
Only then did Chen Ping'an control Fifteen to let a prescription drift out, imprinted with the four characters "Lu Chen's Decree."
He Xiaoliang didn't reach for it. She simply used magic to store it in her inch-object lotus leaf.
After doing that, she visibly relaxed. She even picked up a fiery pear—a type of spiritual fruit—and took a delicate bite. "Well, the official business is done. Next is private business. Chen Ping'an, don't be nervous."
Chen Ping'an smiled wryly. How could he not be nervous?
He Xiaoliang asked, "Have you heard that I've left the Divine Edict Sect?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head.
He Xiaoliang laughed self-deprecatingly, "I guess my cultivation is too low, my fame too small."
She smiled, not in a hurry to speak, savoring the fiery pear. This fruit could ward off the cold and make one feel comfortable all over. The spiritual energy contained in a fiery pear was negligible, far less than a Changchun orange, so its price was not expensive. It was often a must-have for high-ranking officials and nobles during the winter-spring season when entertaining guests.
But in the celadon fruit plate, there were more Changchun oranges and only a few fiery pears. If Chen Ping'an hadn't asked Chunshui and Qiushi about the price, he would have thought that the scarce fiery pears were more expensive.
In fact, this was the true substance of an immortal sect like Dajiao Mountain—not petty.
He Xiaoliang ate the fiery pear leisurely, looking carefree.
Chen Ping'an sat upright, not knowing what this immortal master was really up to.
On Eastern Bottle Gourd Continent, the jade maiden of the continent's Daoist lineage, He Xiaoliang, had inexplicably announced her departure from the Divine Edict Sect. Some said she had secretly fallen in love with the young master who had gone to the Central Earth Continent to take charge of the upper sect's Daoist scriptures. The young Daoist nun's heart had finally blossomed, thunder stirring fire, utterly out of control. She was ready to follow her husband even if it meant abandoning her master's grace and the path to immortality.
He Xiaoliang resigned as the jade maiden. Bottle Gourd Continent had three Daoist sects. A new jade maiden emerged—not from the Divine Edict Sect, which had a heavenly lord, but from the Autumn Water Sect, a little-known young Daoist nun. Outsiders speculated that He Xiaoliang's actions had caused public outrage within the continent's Daoist lineage, causing the Divine Edict Sect to lose the advantageous situation of "golden boy and jade maiden both in one sect." He Xiaoliang's master was furious, publicly declaring he would cleanse the sect, and nearly went down the mountain himself to track He Xiaoliang down. Heavenly Lord Qi Zhen barely managed to stop him.
Everyone knew that He Xiaoliang's preaching master had high hopes for her and had nurtured her with all his heart, treating her almost like his own daughter.
This was an obvious fact within the Divine Edict Sect.
Thus, it was reasonable for the old immortal to be heartbroken.
But inevitably, some people would be suspicious. Wasn't He Xiaoliang said to be the one with the deepest fortune on the continent? How had she fallen to such a state?
Could it be that she had quietly made a fortune and secured an even greater opportunity? To the point where she could abandon her master and sect? But within the Daoist lineage, the rules were strict, no less than those of Confucian academies and schools. Even if He Xiaoliang went to the Divine Edict Sect's upper sect in Central Earth, bearing such a bad reputation, could she really stay by the side of that scripture-keeping Daoist?
Fortunately, the battle between Sunrise Mountain and Wind Thunder Garden shifted everyone's attention.
A spectacular fight to the death seemed more appealing than a tangled love story.
He Xiaoliang watched Chen Ping'an as she finished eating the entire fiery pear, still not seeming inclined to speak. Chen Ping'an had to quietly ask, "Fairy He, what business do you have with me?"
He Xiaoliang, lost in thought, pulled herself together. Still, she didn't speak but carefully examined Chen Ping'an.
Compared to their first meeting at Green Ox Ridge in Lizhu Cave Heaven, the boy was a bit taller, his skin a shade lighter, and a spark of spiritual elegance had appeared in his eyes.
Before He Xiaoliang had quietly boarded the ship at Wutong Village, the Daoist Lu Chen, as head of a sect, had had a frank conversation with her.
Besides what He Xiaoliang had told Chen Ping'an, there were many "things that cannot be said, that must not be spoken." For example, Lu Chen had been right next door to the boy's ancestral home in Mud Vase Alley, sitting on a small stool by the stove, holding a bellows, serving as a guest but busy cooking. Meanwhile, the master of the house, the girl Zhigui, had been lazily sitting in the yard sunbathing, occasionally turning her head to urge Lu Chen to hurry up.
He Xiaoliang had been sitting near Lu Chen at the time. After learning his true identity, she had felt inexplicably calm, which even surprised herself.
At the time, Lu Chen, with a hint of complacency, while complaining, had said, "Back then, Qi Jingchun made a mess of things by arbitrarily playing matchmaker and tossing me an enormous problem. I won't be outdone. I'll just play the matchmaker myself and see who has the better move."
When Lu Chen said these nonsense words, he had a mischievous grin.
But He Xiaoliang had been unmoved, inside and out.
Lu Chen had found that boring.
Her temperament was too much like his senior brother's. If she had been like his second senior brother, that would have been interesting—but interesting was interesting, and dealing with her would not be easy.
For example, the boy from Apricot Flower Lane in the town, Ma Kuxuan.
While waiting for the rice to cook, Lu Chen had plainly told He Xiaoliang that Chen Ping'an had given away two snake gallstones—one for each of them. This was like two sides of a river, and the several prescriptions, especially the one with the vermilion seal "Lu Chen's Decree," were like a bridge.
Although this was a deep scheme of Lu Chen's, it wasn't really malicious.
On the contrary, this was half the reason Chen Ping'an's fortune had turned from bad to good after leaving the town. The other half was his broken life porcelain, which had caused him to attract opportunities but always miss them, relying only on his inherently hard fate, a stubbornness born in his mother's womb, or rather his special status as a key piece, to stubbornly endure until the dust settled and he received some intangible compensation from heaven in the subsequent haze.
The other half was Lu Chen's handiwork.
Perhaps Qi Jingchun had seen through it all, but he was willing to go with the flow, believing that Chen Ping'an would be blessed by heaven and would know when to let go. So he was happy to let it happen. Those who couldn't see, like Chen Ping'an himself, naturally had no clue.
Because once the bridge was built, a mysterious connection emerged between Chen Ping'an and He Xiaoliang—fortunes and misfortunes intertwined and shared.
Thus, Chen Ping'an had taken a full half of He Xiaoliang's fortune!
But if an ordinary person had received this opportunity, they would probably have died long ago.
If fate were as thin as paper, even a single drop of rain could pierce through.
Or even if fate were very strong, but one insisted on taking everything, some seemingly small karmic debts could come crashing down like an avalanche, destroying not only the stone-paved road of Fortune Street but even the large mountains to the west.
Lu Chen's original intention was not malicious, but as for whether Chen Ping'an would be choked to death by fortune and bring on disaster, Lu Chen didn't care at all.
If that happened, it would just prove that Qi Jingchun had misjudged.
Having heard the leaked heavenly secrets of a Daoist sect leader.
At that moment, He Xiaoliang, who had always been calm, began to crack, like a mirror developing fissures.
She knew that the He Xiaoliang who had enjoyed a smooth life and boundless fortune had come to a precipice. To follow the Daoist principle of swimming against the current, breaking the mirror and becoming whole, and then taking a giant step upward—or to step out and plunge into a ten-thousand-foot abyss, shattering into pieces—depended on her next step.
And even if she chose correctly, it might not be as easy as before, when her cultivation had advanced a thousand miles a day without hindrance.
This was the most perilous moment in her otherwise smooth and perfect life.
Especially the feeling of being helpless, reduced to a pawn, was utterly terrible.
Cultivation was not about becoming a puppet on strings for a bigwig, even if that bigwig was Lu Chen, the head of a sect under the Azure Sky!
This time, it unsettled her even more than before.
When she was fourteen, the day she successfully cut off the Red Dragon, the young girl He Xiaoliang realized that her master's gaze had changed.
As time passed, the naive girl began to understand that that look, which made her slightly uncomfortable, was no longer simply that of an elder toward a junior, but something mixed with the way a man looked at a woman.
But at the time, the sect leader Qi Zhen was in seclusion, and the entire Divine Edict Sect was tense.
Before she left the Divine Edict Sect for Lizhu Cave Heaven, the old man had spoken plainly to her, opening the window and saying straight out: he wanted her to become his Dao partner!
He even said that for her, he could leave the Divine Edict Sect, become a wild pair who were carefree in the mountains and marshes, uncaring of worldly gazes. If He Xiaoliang didn't want to wander, that was fine—they could maintain the appearance of master and disciple and secretly become Dao partners. The old man guaranteed that the incomplete scroll describing the great art of dual cultivation would allow both master and disciple to reach the upper fifth realm, and was by no means a cheap bedroom art of "plucking yin to nourish yang."
He Xiaoliang refused.
And she didn't pretend to comply. If the old man hadn't been sure he could subdue her silently, he would have acted long ago.
Thus, she had made that long journey to Lizhu Cave Heaven.
Because there were some landscapes that He Xiaoliang wanted to see with her own eyes, reaching the summit alone.
As for what the world called the art of dual cultivation or the improper custom of master-disciple Dao partners, He Xiaoliang didn't care much, nor did she have much prejudice.
He Xiaoliang only valued the Great Dao!
The truly superior dual cultivation secret arts of Daoism were far from what common mortals misunderstood as something despicable.
They were a branch of the cultivation of both nature and life, not even classified among the many "heterodox ways" that were "also Dao."
The term "heterodox ways" sounded derogatory, but to mountain Qi refiners, they simply couldn't lead directly to the upper fifth realm. Still, they were worthy paths up the mountain.
After He Xiaoliang returned from Dali, her preaching master tore off his kind elder's mask entirely. He cajoled, threatened, and used every means at his disposal.
He Xiaoliang blocked each move calmly, but deep down, she felt it was pathetic, because she knew this was the path the old man had chosen. But it was too narrow, too crooked. She didn't want to accompany him down this cramped road, where the view at the end was far from grand.
Later, the land sword immortal Wei Jin of Wind Snow Temple entered Nanjian Kingdom. The old man mistakenly thought He Xiaoliang had brought in reinforcement and restrained himself for a time. Unexpectedly, He Xiaoliang refused Wei Jin. Wei Jin, muddled and drunk, rode his donkey away into the rivers and lakes. The old man thought he had found a new path. But good things take time—that young Daoist, similar in seniority to him, had low cultivation but dared to protect He Xiaoliang, confront him face to face, and left a chilling threat, leaving the old man unable to advance or retreat. Yet, amusingly, that guy soon rushed off to Central Earth Continent, only having time for a private conversation with He Xiaoliang. Regardless, He Xiaoliang, contrary to what the outside world thought, did not cling to her junior master. Instead, she chose to erase her name from the Divine Edict Sect's register. The old man thought he had finally found a new path, but the sect leader Qi Zhen was surprisingly lenient, overriding objections and not pursuing He Xiaoliang's betrayal. Although nearly all other Divine Edict Sect elders were furious, feeling the sect had raised an ungrateful wolf, since the heavenly lord sect leader had spoken, they had to let it go. Only He Xiaoliang's master wanted to go down the mountain to "interrogate" her, but was again persuaded back to the sect by Qi Zhen.
"Persuaded" was a polite term.
He Xiaoliang, who had followed Lu Chen to Dali, knew better than anyone that the sect leader Qi Zhen must have forcibly stopped the old man, possibly after a violent altercation, beating him back to his residence.
Because without her, the old man's already shaky and dilapidated Dao path would be completely severed.
With his stubborn personality, he would never give up.
But it would all be in vain.
Because behind her stood Lu Chen.
An existence who could casually command the heavenly lord Qi Zhen.
He Xiaoliang's thoughts swirled.
She had not answered Chen Ping'an's question.
Chen Ping'an had no choice but to wait quietly.
"Lu Chen's deep scheming is just going with the flow." He Xiaoliang's eyes suddenly lit up. She stood up abruptly, as if she had untied a knot in her heart. "So fate comes—that is a match made in heaven."
But then He Xiaoliang's mind trembled again.
She vaguely remembered that the first time she had seen the boy, she had only perceived that there was fate, but shallow fate.
That was her Daoist heart's original mind.
But why now did she feel that fate had come and was deep? And even think it was "a match made in heaven"?
This, too, was the deduction of the Daoist sect leader Lu Chen!
Sure enough, in the lake of her heart, a lazy voice sounded with a hint of amusement, "Not bad. Being able to realize this shows that after this trial, after examining your heart, you have handed in the correct answer. The cracks in your heart mirror have been mended. Even if you suffer a severe blow in the future, it won't shatter as easily as it might have before today. Now, you can go to Ju Lu Continent to make your way."
"Let me make it clear: this poor Daoist was not eavesdropping or peeping. I just planted something in your heart lake earlier. When you arrived at the answer, it unlocked, and I could know."
"Enough of that. Finally, I have one more question for you to ask yourself: how should you deal with Chen Ping'an?"
"Hmm, speaking like this is a bit stiff. That's not my style. Let me put it this way: 'He Xiaoliang, touch your deeply hidden chest and ask your conscience: do you want to cut the root and avoid future trouble? Should you slap this fated person in front of you, who for now doesn't know if fate is good or evil, to death with one palm, lest a knot in your heart become a dead knot and ruin your future Dao foundation?'"
The beautiful young Daoist nun looked at the boy sitting before her.
Her face was flushed. Her eyes were cold.
Chen Ping'an met her gaze.
He felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.
In the sword-raising gourd at his waist, First and Fifteen were ready to strike.
Should she kill the boy?
Either way, it would be within Lu Chen's expectations and calculations.
The first time, He Xiaoliang had to pass her own test. This time, it was a test personally arranged by the Daoist sect leader. Of course, Lu Chen wouldn't go all out—otherwise it would be just like killing someone outright. He clearly had high hopes for He Xiaoliang and wouldn't slap his own face.
The beautiful Daoist nun questioned herself a second time. Her icy eyes gradually became flirtatious, not to mention the blush on her cheeks, making her originally dignified face seem very strange.
But on the lake of her heart, ripples surged, torrential waves rose, and it was agonizing.
Chen Ping'an said nothing, staring fixedly at the bizarre-acting Divine Edict Sect Daoist nun.
He even suspected that a fox spirit skilled in seduction had transformed into He Xiaoliang. How else could she be so different?
But his intuition told him that between them, it was a matter of life and death.
He Xiaoliang couldn't help bracing herself on the table, sweating, her temple locks in disarray.
Outside the door of He Xiaoliang's heart, a sigh sounded softly, as if forcibly suppressing the flood in her heart, "He Xiaoliang, I actually gave you the answer long ago. But your Dao heart was blinded by the Great Dao. Whether you kill him—I would stop you—or not kill him—I wouldn't force it—either way, you could pass this test. But you couldn't pick it up, couldn't put it down. You were muddled, and in the end, you made the worst possible choice: you wanted to kill Chen Ping'an first, then marry his spirit in a ghost wedding. That way, you could cut the karma and also feel guiltless. How ridiculous! With such utilitarian methods, can you truly help yourself reach the summit? Have you ever thought, why is Chen Ping'an so beset by difficulties, yet he still lives today? You have everything going smoothly, exceptional talent, yet you can't even cross this easiest threshold?"
He Xiaoliang, a true fairy unattainable on this continent, slumped onto the stool, her head lying on the table, her face flushed like spring tide, gasping heavily. Her eyes were moist and misty as she looked at the boy opposite.
Her gaze was both resentful and guilty.
All killing intent was gone.
Chen Ping'an was utterly confused.
What?
He hadn't bullied anyone—the flying swords in the sword-raising gourd hadn't even come out yet.
Besides, against a Qi refiner as powerful as He Xiaoliang, even if he sent out First and Fifteen simultaneously, and added the token sword "Demon Subduing," it would still be a loss and a death.
After a long time, He Xiaoliang recovered. The mist gradually cleared, the spring tide receded, and her mind settled greatly. She stood up and smiled at the boy. She had finally become the immortal woman Chen Ping'an had first seen, with a white deer as a companion, ethereal and refined.
She said firmly, "Chen Ping'an, when you die one day, you will be my He Xiaoliang's husband!"
In the end, she had steadfastly chosen half of her original intention—half of the decision she had made earliest.
Not killing, but forming a bond.
Above the heart lake, Lu Chen's voice, deep and thick, sounded with unconcealed admiration, slowly rising, "Blessed be the Limitless Heavenly Lord. He Xiaoliang, from this moment on, you are admitted into my Lu Chen's sect, as the sixth direct disciple. You may establish a sect in Ju Lu Continent."
Chen Ping'an was dumbfounded. Without thinking, he blurted out, "Fairy He, what did you say? Did I hear wrong? Could you say it again?"
What was this about "when you die" and "husband"?
Chen Ping'an was even more certain that this "He Xiaoliang" was probably a wild fox spirit who liked to cause mischief.
He Xiaoliang was a little embarrassed and annoyed. She glared at Chen Ping'an, who had taken advantage of her.
She took a deep look at him, then turned and left.
Chen Ping'an remained seated, frowning deeply.
Half true, half false, like a dream, like an illusion.