# Chapter 212: The Dao Is One Foot Higher
Dragon Spring Town, inside an old abandoned schoolhouse. The young Daoist with a lotus crown on his head sat alone behind a small desk, gazing at the spot where Qi Jingchun had stood for sixty years. The Daoist remained silent, his fingers unconsciously tracing and wiping across the desktop.
Coming back to himself, Lu Chen raised his arm, then made a grasping motion. He directly “fished” He Xiaoliang, who had ridden the Kun ship away on the wind, right out of the surging sea of clouds. Even for a Golden Core realm Qi practitioner like He Xiaoliang, instant teleportation across millions of miles left her dizzy. She staggered a step before steadying herself.
He Xiaoliang composed herself, straightened her robe, solidified her spirit in her heart lake, stepped back three paces, and prostrated herself on the ground. “Disciple He Xiaoliang pays respects to Master.”
From being the jewel maiden of a continent’s sect, she had leaped straight to becoming a direct disciple of a Daoist school’s leader. This was no different from a carp leaping over the dragon gate.
Lu Chen nodded and raised a hand to indicate she could rise. “Get up. Under my tutelage, you don’t need to be bound by formal disciple ceremonies. Sincerity is enough. You probably don’t believe me now, but after you spend time with me and meet your five senior brothers and sisters, you’ll understand. Everything outside the Great Dao is illusory.”
Lu Chen, who grew up in the Haoran world but truly matured in the Qingming world, had never really cared much about Confucian secular rituals, or even the golden rules within his own Daoist tradition. Even before his ascension, he was a figure who deviated from convention. Thus he lived a broad and unrestrained life, and the writings he left behind were also famous for the character “xiaoyao” (carefree).
Unlike his eldest senior brother’s thoroughness or his second senior brother’s sense of measure, he, as the youngest junior brother, didn’t follow rules even in front of his master. For this, his eldest senior brother had advised him, and his second senior brother had even beaten him, but Lu Chen continued to act as he pleased. Fortunately, his master, who occasionally appeared at the Small Lotus Cave Heaven, didn’t mind.
Lu Chen looked at the slightly nervous young Daoist nun and smiled. “What, once bitten twice shy? You always think that I, as your master, am scheming to set traps for others every day? So you have to carefully ponder and weigh every word I say? Then you’d be wrong. Going too far is as bad as not going far enough. The reason you were able to become my direct disciple this time is because you passed three heart-examination trials.”
“First, you detected my machinations and immediately made a decisive move, tracing back to question your own heart, peeling away the illusion of ‘heaven-made match’ and grasping the truth of ‘shallow fate.’ Once you passed this trial, you wouldn’t wither prematurely in Julu Continent. Otherwise, arriving at that place where sword cultivators are as common as cow’s hair, where everything is settled by swift swords and fists, you would eventually encounter great setbacks. Once a crack appears in your heart, because your life has been too smooth, it would shatter completely. I wouldn’t even need to seek out your next reincarnation.”
Lu Chen pointed a finger at He Xiaoliang and smiled. “You need to know that this time, Xie Shi demanded three people from Great Li. Forget Li Xisheng. Ma Kuxuan was chosen by my second senior brother, an old man and a young one, birds of a feather. As for whether there are other inner secrets, our tradition has its own rules: we three brothers are not allowed to deduce each other’s calculations. As for you, He Xiaoliang, you were chosen by me because your Dao heart is very similar to my own cultivation journey—breaking through delusions, pointing straight to the heart. So it’s much simpler than any chess pieces or puppets you might imagine, or any schemes of the Daoist school in the Hundred Schools’ contention on this continent. I simply took a liking to you, so I chose you as my disciple.”
“Do you really think those old fellows in the Confucian Temple won’t keep a close eye on my every move? That’s precisely why this is an open and aboveboard scheme. Whether you, He Xiaoliang, can stand firm in Julu Continent and live well to the end depends only on your own ability. After I depart for the Qingming world, I won’t deliberately look after my disciples. The Confucian sages won’t deliberately harm you. And you have a senior brother wandering in the Central Continent and a senior sister training at Longsword Great Wall. If something truly happens, you can seek their help. Since you are now fellow Daoists with the bond of being fellow disciples… you should bring some honor to me, your master.”
Speaking here, Lu Chen smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not like your master at the Divine Edict Sect. I won’t ask you to be my dual cultivation partner.”
He Xiaoliang once again became that cool-tempered, beautiful Daoist nun. Everything outside the Great Dao was external. She asked a question she had pondered for a long time: “In the Qingming world, which is dominated by our Daoist school, are there also secret machinations by the Confucian sages?”
Lu Chen laughed heartily. “Of course there are. It’s the same everywhere, everyone is busy. Did you think that Ma Kuxuan, Wei Jin, Song Changjing, and the like are the most outstanding Heavenly Pride?”
Lu Chen laughed happily. “Then you really should go see the Central Continent one day, or go to the White Jade Capital in the Qingming world in the future. Then you’ll understand—there’s always a mountain higher than the mountain.”
He Xiaoliang sat behind a desk not far away, twisting her waist to face Lu Chen. After hearing this, she frowned slightly, as if unable to understand.
Lu Chen said teasingly, “You want to ask why the Three Teachings don’t simply agree to develop power only on their own territories, excluding other teachings and doctrines, to avoid all this trouble?”
He Xiaoliang nodded. This was exactly what she was thinking.
Lu Chen sighed emotionally. “Because these current territories are themselves the largest ancient battlefields. They were won by the sages with their lives. We also fear that future generations might change the world. If we choose to stagnate, or let those below feel that the Great Dao is blocked, the outcome is best evidenced by the current various worlds.”
Lu Chen casually pointed in the direction of the town’s Immortal Grave. “The mountains and rivers remain the same, but the former masters, who once stood high above, have become scattered bones in the muddy ground.”
He Xiaoliang had some realization.
Some things too distant were obscure and unclear. Those who knew were unwilling to speak, and nothing was written in books. Future generations were naturally lost.
Countless speculations, guesses, fanned by families, fanciful writings by scholars, and pretentious unofficial histories—innumerable. Year after year, mud and sand rolled down together. Perhaps occasionally a bit of truth surfaced, only to be quickly submerged again, eventually dismissed as error.
Lu Chen smiled. “I’ve wandered off topic. Back to the main point. Your second trial was that I needed to determine whether your trip to Julu Continent should make you rely on Heavenly Lord Xie Shi, or let you establish your own faction and found a sect. So I deliberately set a trap for you. I made you think you had given up two correct choices and made the worst decision, making you believe you had missed the Great Dao, causing regret and making you question your own Dao heart.”
He Xiaoliang said honestly, “It was only by relying on the last sliver of clarity in my mind that I passed.”
Lu Chen smiled. “Regarding this point, I’ll use it as the closing argument to explain how you and Chen Ping’an could form a connection. Let’s talk about the last trial first. It was relatively more complex—a series of interconnected passes. The word ‘emotion’ can be interpreted a thousand ways.”
“Between men and women, it’s easiest to move the heart. So I had long planted a seed of emotion in your heart lake. Without you knowing, when it encountered the rain of opportunity, it would take root and sprout, growing fiercely. This is normally a crude, quick method, but it was effective for you, He Xiaoliang. Besides, no matter how crude the method, when I apply it, it becomes refined.”
“There was the master of Divine Edict Sect who had the grace of teacher and disciple; the brilliant contemporary Wei Jin of Wind and Snow Temple; and the street urchin of Mud Vase Alley. For the first two, you passed smoothly, successfully guarding your heart, completely unmoved. But for the last pass, because I deliberately made it difficult, building bridges and paving roads, I put you, He Xiaoliang, in a dilemma. If you…”
Lu Chen stood up, bent his fingers, and lightly tapped the lotus crown that symbolized his authority as sect leader. He continued, “Confused, your Dao heart shaken by the name ‘Lu Chen,’ if you had chosen to walk the path I opened for you, then I would still have allowed you to establish a sect in Julu Continent, but I would never have accepted you as a disciple.”
“Taking a disciple—how difficult that is.”
Lu Chen’s smile faded. “To become Lu Chen’s disciple, you must have the thought that one day your Dao method will be higher than Lu Chen’s, and your path longer than Lu Chen’s. Deviating from the classics? What classics? The classics were merely written by sages. Betraying the Dao? What Dao? The Dao is merely the path walked by sages. Why not try walking your own?”
Even someone as cold-natured as He Xiaoliang felt a deep shudder and respect arise in her heart.
She stood up and saluted Lu Chen with utmost reverence. “I hope that one day, disciple He Xiaoliang will be able to sit on equal footing with Master and discuss the Dao.”
Lu Chen clicked his tongue. “That’s a bit difficult.”
He Xiaoliang sat back down and asked, “Master, what do you mean by your ‘closing argument’? Does the connection between your disciple and Chen Ping’an also have deep significance?”
Lu Chen nodded. “Of course. If you were an ordinary person, not He Xiaoliang, and he were not Chen Ping’an, then my hard work playing matchmaker this time would show no brilliance whatsoever. Qi Jingchun’s random pairing was to give a burden, hoping that one day the youth could use his heart to lift mountains. But the two ends of the red thread in my hand are two people, and even more so, two clear, flawless mirrors reflecting each other—not just letting Chen Ping’an share your fortune, or using Chen Ping’an to help you pass through the emotional trial.”
Lu Chen turned to look in the direction He Xiaoliang had come from before appearing. “Chen Ping’an’s character… There are countless strange people in the world, and I have seen thousands upon thousands. His may not be particularly extraordinary, but it happens to be similar to yours, He Xiaoliang, yet not identical. In some mysterious way, they complement each other. So even when you first met, with your vastly different statuses, you still perceived ‘shallow fate.’ In truth, it wasn’t that your fate was shallow—it was that your cultivation was limited, so you saw it shallowly.”
He Xiaoliang asked softly, “Master, is this another test?”
Lu Chen laughed heartily. “You’re already my disciple, what more tests? What, do you want to become a direct disciple of the Dao Ancestor in one go and sit on equal footing with Lu Chen before you’ll stop?”
He Xiaoliang’s eyes were clear. She shook her head with a smile. “I dare not think such thoughts.”
Lu Chen said with a grin, “Since I’m your master now, I should give a new disciple a meeting gift. This gift is not small. I only managed to get a bit of ‘Dao’ from your master’s master before coming down.”
He Xiaoliang was stunned.
She had just cut off the “bridge” with Chen Ping’an on the Kun ship, and now she was once again the supremely fortunate He Xiaoliang?
Lu Chen seemed to see through the beautiful Daoist nun’s thoughts, laughed aloud, and slapped the desk. “I’ll take you on a journey through the river of time, going upstream!”
In a Dragon Pearl Cave Heaven, even though spells were forbidden, it naturally still couldn’t escape the great rules of heaven—for example, the four seasons, birth, aging, sickness, and death.
Then, under the great divine power of Sect Leader Lu Chen:
Winter, autumn, summer, spring. Death, sickness, aging, birth.
He Xiaoliang, still standing in the schoolhouse within heaven and earth, yet seemingly temporarily disconnected from it, watched the bizarre scenes receding around her. The beautiful Daoist nun’s eyes sparkled.
This was exactly the path she wanted to walk!
Lu Chen smiled. “Follow me. I’ll take you to a place to meet two people.”
The two walked away. Behind them was an increasingly new-looking schoolhouse and the clear sound of children reading aloud. The young students were reciting their lessons backward with perfect fluency. But perhaps due to some prohibition, or because Qi Jingchun had made a deal with the Dao Ancestor, the children’s features were crystal clear, their voices clear to the ear. However, the teacher they faced no longer existed, as if completely vanished from the river of time.
Walking through streets and alleys, He Xiaoliang closely followed the lotus-crowned Daoist, afraid that even one wrong step would get her lost.
Finally, Lu Chen stopped and told her to wait a moment. He Xiaoliang didn’t dare move, standing rooted to the spot.
Lu Chen waved his sleeve. Heaven and earth turned upside down, everything returned to normal order, and the river of time began to flow downstream.
Only then did he take her to a stall nearby. He Xiaoliang didn’t know why her master wanted to bring her here. Was there something strange about that stall? He Xiaoliang focused her gaze. It was a seemingly simple and honest middle-aged man selling candied hawthorns on sticks.
Then He Xiaoliang saw a dark, thin child slowly approaching. He stood beside her, secretly looking at the busy stall, swallowing saliva. When business died down a bit, the child silently walked away.
Lu Chen snapped his fingers. Day and night flickered in an instant.
The stallholder did the same business day after day. The child either returned from gathering herbs on the mountain, came back from catching fish in the stream, or passed by carrying water for neighbors. Time and again, he passed by the stall.
Finally, one day, the child who should have gone up the mountain to gather herbs to earn money had already reached the mouth of Mud Vase Alley with his basket on his back. But remembering that the last time he had good luck and found some valuable herbs, his family’s small rice jar was unexpectedly half-full, so at least for the next ten days he wouldn’t have to worry about hunger—so he looked up at the gloomy sky, as if telling himself it was going to rain heavily, that even if he went up the mountain, he would probably have to turn back halfway.
So the child ran back to the ancestral house courtyard, put down his basket, fished a few copper coins from a small clay jar by the wall, and then ran swiftly through Mud Vase Alley toward the stall.
But as the child got closer to the stall, his steps became heavier, his running slower. Still quite far away, he stopped, his face a comical picture of internal conflict, his hand clutching the extra copper coins in a tight fist.
Finally, the child took a few steps closer, crouched down, and looked up at the bright red candied hawthorns with a dazed expression.
Lu Chen and He Xiaoliang stood right beside that child.
Lu Chen asked with a smile, “If you put yourself in his shoes, what would you think the child is thinking, based on common human feelings?”
He Xiaoliang answered without hesitation, “He would think it would be nice if he could eat the candied hawthorns without spending money.”
Lu Chen smiled and nodded. “Let’s wait and see.”
Afterward, when the stallholder finished his business and was resting, he seemed to notice the child who had passed by his stall many times but never bought a candied hawthorn. The man thought for a moment, sitting on his stool without speaking. Finally, as if moved by compassion, he stood up, beckoned to the child, and smiled. “Come, come. I’m about to pack up and go home. There are still some candied hawthorns I can’t sell. If you want to eat, I can give you one for free!”
The man smiled in an extremely simple and honest way, just like a farmer. He pulled out a stick of candied hawthorns and shook it at the boy. “Take it.”
But the child quickly stood up, smiled, shook his head, and ran away.
He Xiaoliang was a bit puzzled. If this was young Chen Ping’an, making such a choice, she wasn’t really surprised.
Lu Chen pointed at the Candied Hawthorn seller. “This man is a Yin-Yang master from the Central Continent who isn’t famous among the secular world. In fact, he can single-handedly contend with the entire Yin-Yang family Lu. Quite a remarkable eccentric. Even my eldest senior brother can’t fully guess his thoughts.”
He Xiaoliang grew even more puzzled.
Lu Chen smiled. “None of this is the key. What comes next is.”
Lu Chen raised his hand and slowly wiped it downward from top to bottom. A small “Chen Ping’an” appeared beside He Xiaoliang.
This child ran over, accepted the free candied hawthorn, and skipped back to Mud Vase Alley, very happy. After eating the candied hawthorn, he craved more. A few days later, he went to the stall a second time and got another free one. This impoverished child, who had just become accustomed to hardship, gradually grew lazy. From time to time, he would think about those candied hawthorns. He gathered fewer herbs than usual… Day after day, year after year, the youth didn’t turn into a bad person, but in He Xiaoliang’s eyes, he was indeed no longer that straw-sandal-wearing boy she had first met on the back of the green ox.
After that, returning to the starting point, Lu Chen wiped his hand again. Little Ping’an appeared once more. This time, he didn’t accept the free candied hawthorn but chose to buy it. Afterward, the child became even more willing to endure hardship, working desperately to earn money. But he got tired of candied hawthorns and developed a liking for pastries. As the child grew year by year into a youth, in He Xiaoliang’s eyes, this Chen Ping’an also seemed a bit off.
As Lu Chen raised his hand again and again, He Xiaoliang witnessed one Chen Ping’an after another, each with subtly deviating life circumstances.
In the end, He Xiaoliang fell into deep thought.
Lu Chen smiled. “Let’s go back.”
One ahead, one behind, they walked toward the schoolhouse.
This scene was actually very similar to what had truly flowed through the river of time, when Qi Jingchun had taken the young boy to the old locust tree to ask for a leaf.
Lu Chen walked ahead with his hands behind his back. “What did you understand?”
He Xiaoliang answered softly, “Only by guarding one’s heart can one be a person.”
Lu Chen hummed in acknowledgment and said no more.
He Xiaoliang asked, “Did your disciple misunderstand, or did I not see high enough or far enough?”
Lu Chen suddenly turned his head and laughed. “No, no, you thought well. The only flaw is that you, as my disciple, can’t ignore the obvious—you can’t see how your master’s Dao skill reaches the heavens.”
———
While Lu Chen was showing He Xiaoliang all the different lives, in a certain stretch of the river of time, a Confucian scholar with gray temples sat alone in a room after the students’ classes. He played out a go game, his features clear, no longer blurred. In the “present” of Lu Chen and He Xiaoliang, or the “past” of Dragon Pearl Cave Heaven, Qi Jingchun bent down, picked up a go stone, and smiled. “Just so-so.”
# Chapter 213: Longing
When Chen Ping’an came down from the high building and returned to his seat, he had already missed two major battles.
The Daoist Zhang Shan, sitting in the neighboring chair, saw Chen Ping’an and quickly stood up to thank him with a cupped fist salute. Chen Ping’an could only return the courtesy and accept the jade token.
For this public battle of mortal enemies, in the interests of fairness, the battlefield was not set at Wind and Thunder Garden or Zhengyang Mountain, but at Immortal Platform, one of the six branches of Wind and Snow Temple. Wind and Snow Temple, as a sacred land of military strategists, had a broader network of friends than True Martial Mountain. Combined with its far lower profile—its disciples who descended the mountain were more wandering knights than battlefield generals—it had good relations with both sides and wouldn’t favor either.
As for why Wind and Snow Temple chose Immortal Platform, first, the platform was on a mountain peak with wide views and pleasant scenery. In terms of appearances alone, it was the most ethereal geomantic treasure in Wind and Snow Temple. Second, Immortal Platform had few disciples, waning incense, almost entirely sustained by Wei Jin alone. And because of his master’s relationship, Wei Jin wasn’t particularly close to the sect. It was likely that Wind and Snow Temple hoped this battle would increase Immortal Platform’s incense.
Chen Ping’an learned the results from Qiushi and was greatly startled. In the first two battles, Wind and Thunder Garden had lost both times. An ancestor and a famous sword cultivator of middle seniority had each died under the swords of their Zhengyang Mountain opponents. The second match, between ancestors, was actually a mutual destruction, but because Zhengyang Mountain’s old ancestor breathed his last a moment later than his Wind and Thunder Garden counterpart, Wind and Snow Temple ruled in Zhengyang Mountain’s favor.
On the vast Immortal Platform, there was no crowded scene. The sparse buildings were clustered in the northeast corner. Only cultivators of sufficient status, cultivation, and strength from Baoping Continent were qualified to ascend the buildings to watch. Other cultivators could only observe from distant peaks of Wind and Snow Temple.
The entire Immortal Platform seemed reserved solely for the two combatants.
After some conversation, Chen Ping’an discovered that Daoist Zhang Shan had never even heard of Zhengyang Mountain or Wind and Thunder Garden before. This wasn’t surprising; cultivators from Julu Continent had always held themselves in high regard, looking down on the smallest of the Nine Continents, Baoping. Only places and names like Cliff Academy, Lake View Academy, Da Li’s Cui Can, martial artist Song Changjing, and sword immortal Wei Jin could catch the attention of Julu Continent practitioners.
Moreover, given Daoist Zhang Shan’s cultivation level and experience, and the fact that they were on different continents, it would be strange if he were familiar with Baoping’s customs.
Wind and Thunder Garden and Zhengyang Mountain were blood enemies, known throughout the continent. The origin lay deep within Wind and Thunder Garden, on their sword-testing ground. There, the corpse of a female ancestor of Zhengyang Mountain had been exposed to the elements since her death in battle three hundred years ago. Wind and Thunder Garden not only refused to return the body for proper burial by Zhengyang Mountain disciples, but they hadn’t even pulled out the standard Wind and Thunder Garden sword still embedded in her skull. It was left there for all disciples and visiting guests to see at will.
What was the ultimate humiliation? This!
Zhengyang Mountain, as the pinnacle of the continent’s swordsmanship, with sword qi piercing the sky, had been steadily rising in the last three hundred years. In terms of the quality of its youngest three generations of disciples, it had already surpassed Wind and Thunder Garden.
In those three hundred years, almost every sixty years, someone from Zhengyang Mountain would go to Wind and Thunder Garden to challenge them, trying to “invite” back their ancestor’s bones so she could rest in peace. But the Wind and Thunder Garden master who had killed the female Zhengyang sword cultivator lived for another three hundred years after that. Even though talents emerged generation after generation from Zhengyang Mountain, none could defeat him. He wasn’t as ruthless with later challengers, but he wasn’t merciful either—either breaking their Longevity Bridge or destroying their life-bound sword. For Zhengyang Mountain sword cultivators, this was worse than death; a glorious death in battle would have been preferable.
This was the origin of the saying “Wind and Thunder Garden suppressed an entire mountain with one man” in Eastern Baoping Continent.
Now, the Wind and Thunder Garden master had finally died, just at the beginning of the new spring. Rumor had it he had quietly undergone reincarnation. Coinciding with the customary sexagenary battle, though Wind and Thunder Garden had tried to keep the secret tightly guarded, Zhengyang Mountain somehow learned of it. The entire mountain and its peaks were shaken, with emotions running high. Some brought their families to the ancestors’ graves to burn incense and pour wine; some decrepit old men got roaring drunk. The young sword cultivators of Zhengyang Mountain were especially eager for battle. After three hundred years of humiliation and resentment, they finally had a chance to vent it.
In fact, after two battles, Zhengyang Mountain had indeed won, and won beautifully—both face and substance. The final battle of the youngest generation, whether it was fought or not, had become superfluous.
The maid Qiushi was a bit worried, thinking that the last match probably wouldn’t happen. The school called Wind and Thunder Garden had already lost two rounds. At least in the second match, the Wind and Thunder Garden ancestor had been only a breath away from victory, so they had saved some face. If they lost a third, it would be three losses in a row, and their reputation would be completely ruined.
If Wind and Thunder Garden stopped now, they could at least salvage a consolation of admitting defeat.
Chen Ping’an remembered the sword cultivator Liu Baqiao, who had gone with him into the mountain to search for the catalpa tree. Suddenly, he said, “The third match—Wind and Thunder Garden will definitely fight it.”
Liu Baqiao was neither friend nor foe to Chen Ping’an among those visiting immortals, but he had left a deep impression.
Chen Ping’an simply felt that a sect that could produce Liu Baqiao wouldn’t back down.
And indeed, it was just as he thought.
After a secret negotiation among Wind and Snow Temple, Zhengyang Mountain, and Wind and Thunder Garden, the child-faced, short-statured master of Wind and Snow Temple walked to the center of Immortal Platform with a man and a woman, announcing that the third great battle was about to begin.
The combatant from Zhengyang Mountain was Su Jia. She wore a long sword at her waist and carried a sword-nurturing gourd at her side. Her bearing was heroic and beautiful, with a nation-toppling appearance.
The combatant from Wind and Thunder Garden was the garden master’s closed-door disciple, named Huang He. He carried a huge sword case on his back, whether it contained a large sword or multiple swords was unknown.
While almost everyone was focused on the two young sword cultivators, Chen Ping’an secretly circulated his true qi, focusing his gaze, searching for a certain figure in one of the pavilions. The long scroll painting was only so large, but this event had become popular throughout the world because cultivators and pure martial artists had far superior eyesight to ordinary people. Ordinary people saw a mustard seed as a mustard seed, but the Dao Ancestor seemed to see an entire world. Mortals saw a flower or a leaf as just a flower or leaf, but the Buddha could see a small universe.
Chen Ping’an’s eyes darkened. He grabbed a few pieces of sparrow tongue tea and put them in his mouth, chewing lightly.
On the top-floor corridor of a tall building, a white-robed, burly old man stood with arms crossed, looking down at the Immortal Platform square. A delicate little girl was riding on the old man’s head.
The old man stood slightly to the right. Behind the railings on this floor were all the founding ancestors of Zhengyang Mountain, both men and women. Each had an extraordinary bearing, with sword qi converging like rivers flowing into the sea, their momentum piercing the celestial ox.
Chen Ping’an stared hard at the white-robed old man. A moment later, he shifted his gaze to another tall building, the viewing point reserved for Wind and Thunder Garden on Immortal Platform. From top to bottom, the number of sword cultivators standing there was sparse. Compared to Zhengyang Mountain, which had mobilized its middle-five-realm sword cultivators en masse, Wind and Thunder Garden’s party was pitifully small, mostly young disciples. For example, Liu Baqiao sat carelessly on the railing with an unseemly posture, but after losing both battles, his expression was somber.
The poor Daoist stared intently, muttering, “It’s starting.”
Qiushi laughed. “The first two matches were aimed at killing the opponent. This third match doesn’t need a decisive outcome and isn’t critical. I think they’ll fight back and forth and won’t be as bloody as before.”
Chen Ping’an didn’t comment.
His mind was mainly on that Zhengyang Mountain Mountain-Moving Ape.
Chen Ping’an silently memorized every face in Zhengyang Mountain’s pavilion. Knowing oneself and one’s enemy allows one to act with purpose. Compared to future indirect inquiries and hearsay, what he saw now was the most direct and real. In the future, these people might become potential opponents blocking his path to reason on the mountain. Of course, that day was still far off. For now, Chen Ping’an was only a third-realm martial artist. After all, no matter how strong a third realm was, it was still only third realm.
The old man in the Confucian scholar’s robe with a sable hat clicked his tongue. “That little girl named Su Jia is in trouble.”
He hit the mark.
The young sword cultivator on the far right habitually tapped his scabbard lightly. “She lost. A pity about that sword-nurturing gourd—it’s met with the wrong owner. You probably couldn’t find a third one like it in all of Julu Continent.”
Another prophecy come true.
In just three moves, Su Jia drew her sword and the life-bound flying sword from her gourd, but was still beaten to the ground by the young sword cultivator named Huang He. It turned out that the man’s large case was full of small swords, like carrying a hornet’s nest. They weren’t life-bound flying swords, but he was skilled at splitting his mind to control many flying swords, making Su Jia completely unable to counterattack. Once, a flying sword pierced the arm holding her sword; once, it cut the red cord from which her sword-nurturing gourd hung; the last time, two flying swords nailed both her wrists. The Zhengyang Mountain immortal maiden fell into a pool of blood, unconscious.
In Baoping Continent, there weren’t many truly respected immortal maidens. He Xiaoliang of Divine Edict Sect was the undisputed first, then Su Jia and a few others were renowned across the continent. They were goddesses in the hearts of countless young cultivators, long admired. Some even joked that after Su Jia became famous, the number of disciples Zhengyang Mountain took in each decade increased by thirty percent.
The sword cultivator Huang He stood beside Su Jia, raised a foot, and stepped on the exquisite sword-nurturing gourd, grinding his sole against it.
The young Wind and Thunder Garden sword cultivator curled his lips into a grin, looking around, and finally turned his gaze to the tall building where Zhengyang Mountain’s ancestors stood side by side.
From between his brows, a pitch-black life-bound flying sword emerged, buzzing. When this sword vibrated, the clouds and mountain winds around the entire Immortal Platform went from calm to chaotic.
After openly showing off and provoking, the young man withdrew his life-bound flying sword and announced loudly to the building, “Sixty years from now, I, Huang He, will ascend Zhengyang Mountain to test my sword again, and take another head to place at Wind and Thunder Garden.”
A white-haired old ancestor of Zhengyang Mountain on the top floor bristled with fury, his beard and hair flying. He couldn’t help but want to go down and beat this arrogant little bastard to death.
On the top floor of the building where Wind and Thunder Garden’s sword cultivators were, the door suddenly opened. A handsome black-clad sword cultivator walked out and smiled at the agitated Zhengyang Mountain ancestor. “Zhou He, throwing your weight around with age is not good. How about I play with you instead?”
As soon as this sword cultivator stepped out, not only the white-haired ancestor, but everyone up and down Zhengyang Mountain’s building was stunned. Shock was mixed with a hint of unwillingness to admit despair.
This man was Li Tuanjing, the master of Wind and Thunder Garden. Brilliant and exceptional, he had broken into the tenth realm at forty, but for hundreds of years afterward, he had never broken through again—most bizarre. But even without reaching the upper fifth realm, Li Tuanjing was universally acknowledged as the strongest tenth-realm sword cultivator in Eastern Baoping Continent, without equal!
Before Wei Jin had broken through to the eleventh realm and become a terrestrial sword immortal, he himself admitted he couldn’t match this man.
Hadn’t they said Li Tuanjing had died and reincarnated?
Li Tuanjing paid no more attention to the shocked Zhengyang Mountain ancestors. He looked up, as if smiling at all those behind the scenes watching this battle. With one hand behind his back and the other with two fingers together, he gently turned them. A wisp of clear wind swirled around. Then, flicking his wrist, he smiled and spoke a single word: “Slash.”
That wisp of clear wind left the black-clad sword cultivator and instantly transformed into an enormous sword qi of overwhelming momentum. It spun once in the sky above Immortal Platform, and in that one slash, severed Immortal Platform’s connection to the outside world.
Those within the painting were dumbfounded.
Those outside the painting looked at each other in dismay.
Inside the painting, on the Immortal Platform, in the building, Li Tuanjing neither looked for trouble nor uttered harsh words. He just stood there, gazing absentmindedly into the distance at the clouds rolling back to their normal state.
This made Wind and Snow Temple heave a sigh of relief.
Li Tuanjing, as the strongest tenth-realm sword cultivator, had killing power that was evident to all.
When a cultivator was hailed as “the most” in some aspect, especially within a continent, they were inevitably a fearsome existence.
For example, the youngest ninth-realm pure martial artist, Da Li’s Prince Song Changjing, had already displayed strength of a tenth-realm martial artist during the siege in the capital.
Breaking Li Tuanjing’s record to become the youngest tenth-realm sword cultivator was Wei Jin, who was now an upper-fifth-realm immortal, high above.
Huang He, carrying the sword case on his back, slowly returned to the building.
Zhengyang Mountain began urgently rescuing Su Jia.
Li Tuanjing stood with his hands behind his back, a smile on his face.
Even if I only have one last breath left, I’ll still choke your Zhengyang Mountain. Even if your bones will eventually be taken away by your disciples from Wind and Thunder Garden, you’ll still feel no satisfaction.
See.
Three hundred years ago, you betrayed my true feelings, and I taught your entire Zhengyang Mountain to hold its head low for a full three hundred years.
You made those so-called sword immortals of your mountain too ashamed to hold celebrations, forced to hide in the clouds on the peaks, sighing.
Now that I’m about to die, so what?
So, are you satisfied now?
Li Tuanjing withdrew his thoughts, turned, and walked down the stairs, his palm lightly slapping the railing as he went.
He descended to the next floor and came to a young man’s side.
Liu Baqiao, who had waited until the battle was over, was trembling.
Li Tuanjing smiled. “Baqiao, seeing the woman you love humiliated, watching her sword heart shatter, unable to rescue her because of opposing camps, feeling her pain as your own, unable to hold back—does it hurt?”
Liu Baqiao snapped back to reality and was about to jump down from the railing, but Li Tuanjing reached out and stopped him. “Just sit there.”
Liu Baqiao said guiltily, “Garden Master…”
Li Tuanjing smiled. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Falling in love with the one woman you shouldn’t—it’s nothing. The sky won’t fall. Don’t feel guilty about it.”
Liu Baqiao didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want to lie, yet he felt he had failed the sect and the garden master.
Li Tuanjing asked, “From now on, Su Jia will sink into despair. The sword-nurturing gourd will probably be taken back by Zhengyang Mountain. Her sword heart destroyed, this immortal maiden who made you youngsters feel inferior will have her spirit broken. She won’t be an immortal maiden anymore—maybe not even as good as a nominal female cultivator of Zhengyang Mountain. Baqiao, I just want to know: will you still love her?”
Liu Baqiao sobbed, “For the rest of my life. Garden Master, am I hopeless?”
Li Tuanjing sighed emotionally. “You silly boy. That’s wonderful.”
“Then keep loving her forever. But don’t neglect your sword practice. You know, I’ve always had high hopes for you—no less than for Huang He. I didn’t tell you before because it wouldn’t have helped. But I can say it now because there won’t be another chance.”
Liu Baqiao turned his head. “Garden Master?”
Li Tuanjing suddenly asked, “Practice your sword well. In the future, try to bury my bones together with that corpse. Baqiao, if fortunes reverse, and Zhengyang Mountain is at its peak, pressing us Wind and Thunder Garden cultivators into hiding, what should you do?”
Liu Baqiao no longer had the face or the nerve to sit on the railing. He stood in the corridor, his expression solemn. “A sword cultivator, of course, uses his sword to reason.”
Li Tuanjing teased, “Oh, that sounds just like me when I was young.”
Then Li Tuanjing looked into the distance and chuckled. “Remember, between a man and a woman, that won’t work. Don’t think you can handle everything with your sword skills just because you’re good. When speaking to the woman you love, you still need…”
“You still need to be gentle. And you need to say sweet words.”
Li Tuanjing turned to look at his closed-door disciple, Huang He, who was slowly walking up from the stairway.
Looking at the two young men, this strongest tenth-realm cultivator of Baoping Continent smiled freely. “After I die, the Wind and Thunder Garden will be for the two of you to bear the great responsibility.”
Huang He’s face was cold. “Master, I alone am enough.”
Liu Baqiao grinned cheekily. “That’s great—those who can do more work. No burden on me.”
Li Tuanjing laughed heartily, pointing at Huang He. “The sword cultivator’s infinite killing power, famous throughout the world—that’s yours.”
Then he pointed at Liu Baqiao. “The sword cultivator’s unparalleled grace, fine wine and beautiful women—that’s yours.”
Finally, Li Tuanjing said leisurely, “In short, everything belongs to our Wind and Thunder Garden.”
———
On the Kun ship headed to Nanjian Kingdom, the burly man beside the middle-aged woman sneered. “Except for that black-clad sword cultivator who showed up at the end and had some real skill, those three fights were just average. If they’d been in our Julu Continent, they wouldn’t have the face to put on such a grand show.”
The woman nodded and smiled. “That sword-nurturing gourd was really good. I wonder if there’s a chance to buy it.”
The old maidservant, standing respectfully with her hands clasped, smiled. “Madam only needs to state your sect’s name, and it should be easy to acquire the gourd.”
In the seat farthest to the left, the old man in the Confucian scholar’s robe with a sable hat had finally had enough of the noise from the neighboring seats and their endless commentary. Since the first battle, those people had been nitpicking—this wasn’t good, that wasn’t good enough—annoying as hell. The old man tilted his head and spat a thick glob of phlegm onto the ground. “Those three sword techniques might not match our Julu sword immortals, but the spirit of those three fights was full of vigor and passion. What more do you want?”
The tall man glared. “Old man, looking for death?”
The old man sneered. “Looking for death? How about we sign a life-and-death contract? After watching the excitement of Wind and Thunder Garden and Zhengyang Mountain, let’s give others a show too? If I lose, I’ll take it. If I win, I’ll have your mistress for three days and three nights. How about that?”
No hesitation. Say it, do it.
The timid-looking, refined man beside the woman stepped in as a peacemaker. “Let’s talk nicely, talk nicely… We’re all from Julu Continent when traveling far from home, why hurt the peace…”
The tall, thin woman wasn’t angered at all. Instead, she looked at the old man with interest and smiled. “Pity you’re a bit old. With those old bones of yours, I doubt you could last three moves under me. Fighting in bed is very different from fighting on the floor. Right, old salted meat?”
“Bah!” the old man spat again. “Not just you scrawny woman—I’ll have your pretty boy husband too!”
Chen Ping’an was stunned.
This felt like being back in Mud Vase Alley or Apricot Blossom Alley?
The young sword cultivator on the far right turned his head impatiently. “If you’re going to fight, fight already. Stop wasting words—don’t dirty our ears!”
Great. Another hothead. Instead of stopping the fight, he was pouring fuel on the fire.
Chen Ping’an had a headache. Were they really going to fight?
The female sword cultivator with a small sword in her hair bun remained unmoved, just looking up at the painting, as if savoring the essence of the three deadly battles.
Fortunately, the ship master who had dealt with Wei Po earlier walked over with a smile. His gaze swept over everyone, starting with the Confucian-robed old man. He cupped his fists and called out titles for each person he saw: “Sword Venerable, Green Bone Lady, Lord Hulü—can you grant me face and let this go today?”
The three parties could easily have refused the ship master’s face, or even the face of Daqiao Mountain. But when the ship master simply uttered those three names, things became simple.
The old man nicknamed Sword Venerable was a famously eccentric sword cultivator in southern Julu. His realm wasn’t very high—Golden Core—with no sect, but he specialized in nurturing swords in ancient jars and often helped mid-fifth-realm sword cultivators warm their flying swords for free, so he had friends everywhere.
Green Bone Lady was not a sword cultivator, but she had a tenth-realm sword cultivator godfather who was extremely protective, and she possessed a ridiculously powerful divine weapon. Moreover, she herself was a seventh-realm martial arts grandmaster skilled in close combat, infamous for her ferocity.
As for the young sword cultivator with the compound surname Hulü, the name was famous throughout Julu. It was unique—no other like it.
His family had a Jade Pure realm terrestrial sword immortal ancestor, one of the sword immortals who had recently led the expedition to Daoxuan Mountain. This ancestor was straightforward and a close friend of Julu’s continent lord Xie Shi. Hulü’s current family head was the grand governor of the largest dynasty in eastern Julu. Though unsuited for cultivation and a weak scholar, he commanded three hundred thousand troops and had gathered nearly a thousand sword cultivators under his command, earning the reputation of “Thousand-Sword Civil Marshal.”
Daqiao Mountain wasn’t really afraid of the three parties. Not that they could match the Hulü family in strength, but they were far away. As for Green Bone Lady, who liked to keep male concubines, and the rogue Sword Venerable, Daqiao Mountain certainly wasn’t afraid of them. But guests were guests—why make enemies out of business?
The old man exclaimed, leaning forward and peering at the young sword cultivator. “Hey, young master Hulü—what relation is Hulü Yinzi to you?”
The young sword cultivator answered impatiently, “He’s my uncle. Been in seclusion for many years. You know him?”
The old man slapped his thigh. “Ha! When Hulü Yinzi was young, that guy was dull as a board. The first time he went to a brothel, I had to drag him there! After that, he followed me around constantly. I’ve heard of people mooching meals and drinks, but your uncle mooching whoring—at my age, I’ve only met one!”
The young sword cultivator flushed red. He quickly glanced at the female sword cultivator beside him. Seeing no reaction, he breathed a little easier and said solemnly to the old man, “My uncle isn’t that kind of person!”
The Confucian-robed old man rolled his eyes. “Me and your uncle—we’ve got a bond tighter than brothers. What do you, a virgin, know?”
The young sword cultivator felt like he’d been struck by lightning.
The female sword cultivator finally couldn’t take it anymore and shouted, “Shut up!”
The old man laughed. “Wow, such a fierce little woman. You, boy, are in for a hard time.”
The young sword cultivator knew trouble was coming, but had no time to warn her.
The female sword cultivator’s face turned icy. “With insolent words and reckless tongue, I’ll smash your dog teeth.”
The tiny “hairpin” flying sword that had held her black hair—blade edge smooth, delicate—flew from her hair. At its tail bloomed a bright white light. As the flying sword traced its path, it drew an eye-dazzling white line in the air.
Flying swords were already known for their speed and difficulty to defend against, but this woman’s little sword was unbelievably fast.
Too fast! An eye-opener.
Chen Ping’an’s mind stirred.
“Ouch! Mother—that hurts!” The old man covered his mouth, blood streaming, his speech slurred.
The flying sword had cut through his lip and broken one of his front teeth.
But the old man wasn’t angry. Instead, he laughed joyfully, slapping his thighs. With blood and spittle spraying, he shouted, “What a fine ‘Lightning Dash’! Truly one of the fastest flying swords in our Julu Continent! Well deserved, well deserved!”
Even Green Bone Lady was startled.
Another descendant of a reclusive sword immortal ancestor.
And unlike the powerful Hulü clan, the previous owner of “Lightning Dash” belonged to a family that was small in number but strong in power—extremely formidable.
He had once walked alone in the dragon-and-tiger Central Continent, his companion sword called “Tiger Rhinoceros,” his flying sword called “Lightning Dash.”
Though Chen Ping’an didn’t know the top secrets of Julu Continent, and they were all speaking Julu dialect which he couldn’t understand at all, this was clearly a storm about to break—immortals fighting.
So he sat quietly, ready to flee at the first sign of trouble.
Fortunately, during his chats with Chunshui and Qiushi, he’d learned that on this cross-continent Kun ship, meeting any kind of immortal was not unusual.
Beneath the Kun ship, in the secular rivers and lakes of Baoping Continent, such astonishing beings were rare. Not just in tiny Eastern Baoping—even in the vast, sword-crowded Julu Continent, it was the same.
After the female sword cultivator sheathed her flying sword, she smiled apologetically at the Daqiao Mountain ship master. He felt greatly relieved.
In truth, with her decisive intervention, things would not get complicated—they would end quickly.
Indeed. The three parties each fell silent, the tense atmosphere dissipating.
At that moment, Chen Ping’an had never felt the perils of the martial world so keenly—not in the town or on Lost Soul Mountain, not even with the despair of the blue-robed child.
But watching the sword battles in the scroll and the immortals dueling right before his eyes, Chen Ping’an told himself: Chen Ping’an, don’t just drink wine. Practice your boxing more diligently. Start learning the sword soon.
He unconsciously turned to look at the sky outside the Kun ship. Flying on a sword, piercing clouds and rain, keeping company with birds—this filled him with longing.