Chapter 238: Spring Breeze Escorts You for Thousands of Miles
(Although I took five days off this month due to a cold, the monthly update of 120,000 words was still completed as promised.)
Liu Chicheng's pink Daoist robe fluttered gently in the breeze. This great power from White Emperor City, a millennium ago, was unprecedentedly restrained.
This was unreasonable.
Because the figure beside Chen Ping'an, formed by strands of spring breeze, was a green-robed Confucian scholar with graying temples, ethereal and illusory, wearing a smile on his face.
Liu Chicheng observed his aura—merely an oil lamp on the verge of drying up. Yet beyond that aura, there was an indescribable quality. Any Qi refiner below the Upper Five Realms would likely be unable to fathom the intricacies. But he, temporarily residing within Liu Chicheng's body, was at his peak a genuine twelfth-qi Immortal Realm cultivator. Before he had rebelled against the demonic sect's orthodoxy, in that Yellow River Lesser Heaven where water cascaded and splendid clouds drifted in White Emperor City, he had encountered countless extraordinary experts standing atop the peaks. Instead, this made him cautious and reluctant to act rashly.
The more unclear the depth and reality, the less Liu Chicheng dared to underestimate.
Qi Jingchun first signaled Chen Ping'an to rest assured, then stood shoulder to shoulder with the youth, introducing himself with a smile to Liu Chicheng: "Qi Jingchun, a disciple of the Sage of Literature, formerly the mountain chief of Cliff Academy."
"Liu Chicheng" was somewhat bewildered.
This fellow before him put on no airs, appearing gentle and refined. But the Sage of Literature? Qi Jingchun? Cliff Academy? What nonsense was this? Could it be that during the millennium he had been suppressed by Heavenly Master Zhang of Dragon Tiger Mountain, two Confucian sage-masters had emerged? However, the title "Sage of Literature" was no simple matter. Titles like "Ritual Sage" or "Second Sage" all referred to individuals qualified to have statues erected in the Confucian temple, and their positions would certainly be very prominent.
Blame it on Liu Chicheng—a half-baked scholar, shallow in foundation, spending his days idling away, never interested in the state of the continent. He only thought of using his meager knowledge for romantic dalliances, deceiving women's affections. Of course, he also bore responsibility himself. He considered Eastern Treasures Bottle Continent a barbaric land; even if a millennium had passed to accumulate heritage, cultivators above the Upper Five Realms would still be few and far between, so he need not concern himself.
Qi Jingchun casually waved his sleeve, and the restrictive barrier erected by Liu Chicheng dissipated completely.
A gentleman treats others with sincerity.
As a result, the burly bearded man and the young Daoist quickly noticed the anomaly here, exchanging bewildered glances. Was that fellow in the pink Daoist robe the impoverished scholar Liu Chicheng? When did he develop this eccentric taste for such effeminate attire? And who was that elderly green-robed Confucian scholar?
Liu Chicheng squinted.
Having broken his illusion barrier in an instant—though he currently possessed only half the cultivation of the Jade Realm—the profound divine abilities passed down from the White Emperor City's demonic sect orthodoxy should not have been so easily broken, even by a genuine Jade Realm Qi refiner.
Zhang Shanfeng was about to rise and go to Chen Ping'an's side when Xu Yuanxia grabbed his arm, softly warning: "Let's continue our own conversation. Don't meddle in whatever's happening over there. The best thing for us is to see no evil, hear no evil."
Then the burly man saw the green-robed Confucian scholar glance their way, smiling and nodding in greeting.
Xu Yuanxia quickly cupped his fists in return.
Qi Jingchun asked with a smile: "Senior, are you the master of the Colored Glass Pavilion in White Emperor City?"
Liu Chicheng nodded, amused: "What, you've heard of my infamous name? Is it so notorious throughout the Central Continent that it's become commonplace?"
Qi Jingchun shook his head: "I once traveled along the great Yellow River and met the city lord of White Emperor City by its banks. We spoke of you."
Liu Chicheng suddenly burst into curses: "Bullshit! How could my senior brother leave the city to meet someone?! With his temperament, even if those old geezers from the Confucian temple came calling in admiration, he has never in history taken the initiative to leave the city to welcome guests. At most, he would show his face briefly among the colorful clouds above the city walls—that alone was already giving your Confucian school a huge face. And the two of you met by the river? Damn it, even lies have limits!"
Qi Jingchun laughed despite himself: "The city lord even invited me to play three games of Go. But I had urgent business at the time and had to return to the academy immediately, so I left it as a debt. Little did I expect that after that, I never had the chance to return to White Emperor City—truly a pity."
Liu Chicheng raised his hands and rubbed his cheeks vigorously, filled with rage. Although he had severed ties with his senior brother, with no remaining bond of fellowship, deep in his heart he always held respect for that City Lord of White Emperor City—a pure admiration and worship. So he hesitated whether to strike decisively and scatter this last remnant of soul and spirit lingering in the mortal world.
Seeing that the master of the Colored Glass Pavilion was unwilling to believe, Qi Jingchun chose not to say more.
Regarding this great demon of White Emperor City who had reappeared in the world, Qi Jingchun's impression was not bad. The first time this man had harbored killing intent was when the swordsman of Comb-Water Kingdom had indiscriminately struck down the young fox immortal. Among scholars who endlessly spouted benevolence and righteousness, there was no shortage of sanctimonious hypocrites; likewise, among demonic cultivators, there were also those of great style. Qi Jingchun had accompanied Senior Brother Zuo on several journeys across the world's mountains and rivers, so he had long seen such things and would not see things in black and white.
Moreover, regarding the case of the shattered Colored Glass Pavilion a thousand years ago in White Emperor City, Qi Jingchun already held affirmation for this great demon before him.
Qi Jingchun patted Chen Ping'an's shoulder and said to Liu Chicheng with a smile: "As for Chen Ping'an becoming your disciple—that certainly won't work. But if you are willing to teach swordsmanship, and Chen Ping'an is willing to learn, I, Qi Jingchun, would be happy to see it."
Liu Chicheng extended a finger and shook it lightly: "Your current situation—we both know it clearly. Just a wisp of soul condensed from spring breeze. Even if you were a Confucian sage of the Upper Five Realms in life, times have changed. Do you think you have the ability to bargain with me?"
Qi Jingchun looked at the great demon in the pink Daoist robe. With one glance, he could see Liu Chicheng's killing intent surging, ready to stir.
The heart of a demon is easily swayed and difficult to stabilize. Many decisions tend to follow the innate, violent nature, leading to many tragedies in the world.
The state of Grand Harmony imposed many suppressions and restrictions on great demons—not without reason. Someone had once proposed that "those not of our kind must have different hearts," and "demons and spirits, by nature, steal vitality from all things; only human teaching makes them willing to die for righteousness." These views were harsh toward non-humans. In fact, during the time when the Ritual Sage governed the world, many academy sages had suggested completely exterminating all great demons above the Upper Five Realms, imprisoning them all forever to eliminate future trouble. But in the end, the Ritual Sage did not accept this.
Qi Jingchun sighed.
Ultimately, the logic of demons in the world all revolved around the word "survival"—endlessly pursuing their own survival to become strong, unrestrained, lawless.
Meanwhile, the logic of Grand Harmony revolved around the word "rules"—within the bounds of rules, benefiting all living beings.
Qi Jingchun extended his hand, smiling: "If you refuse to listen to reason and only want to resort to force, then I will have to borrow a sword and cut away half of your cultivation."
The longsword hidden in the locust-wood sword box behind Chen Ping'an—which he had privately named "Demon Subduer"—vibrated joyfully, like parched earth receiving rain, slowly unsheathing inch by inch, its aura surging to the heavens!
Liu Chicheng's pink Daoist robe billowed. His eyes filled with ferocity, his entire being exuding overwhelming demonic aura, he asked with a laugh: "Mr. Qi, are you sure you'll have the chance to grasp that divine weapon specifically designed to target demons? Even if I can't shatter your soul with a single punch, aren't you afraid I might pulverize Chen Ping'an into meat paste?"
Qi Jingchun's expression remained calm, as if stating the most self-evident truth: "As long as I, Qi Jingchun, still exist for even a moment, no one can bully my little junior brother in the slightest."
Liu Chicheng laughed heartily: "I don't believe that!"
Liu Chicheng's pupils contracted sharply.
His entire body was enveloped in a pale golden sphere of light.
But above his head, a flaw first appeared—just like when that figure had once cleaved a great hole in the Yellow River Lesser Heaven with a single sword stroke. The Mixed Yuan Golden Light Array of White Emperor City, which shielded Liu Chicheng, first revealed a crack. In Liu Chicheng's sight, a black dot as small as a mustard seed appeared, then a thin black line, and finally, with a whoosh, the golden light array was completely split open.
The sword tip pointed directly at the space between Liu Chicheng's eyebrows, less than an inch away.
Liu Chicheng stood utterly still.
It wasn't that having lost the initiative, he had no power to fight back. On the contrary, White Emperor City had always been renowned for its complex Dao techniques and numerous divine abilities. Just the Dharma robe he wore, comparable to a half-immortal artifact, would allow him to stand motionless and withstand that sword strike.
But the green-robed Confucian scholar holding the sword with one hand was not wielding the longsword forged by Ruan Qiong, but that simple locust-wood sword.
Thus, Liu Chicheng chose to take a step back and let the matter rest.
Because that fellow named Qi Jingchun had no intention of being overly aggressive.
They each made a concession.
Qi Jingchun slowly sheathed the wooden sword and placed it back into the sword box behind Chen Ping'an, saying with a smile: "If this sword strike had been delivered by A Liang or Senior Brother Zuo, it would have been a different story."
Liu Chicheng asked: "Did my senior brother really leave the city to meet you? And actively invite you to three games of chess?"
Qi Jingchun nodded.
That was the truth, neither something to be proud of nor something to hide.
Besides, Qi Jingchun had never taken such experiences to heart.
This stood in stark contrast to the young Cui Chan, who still boasted about once playing ten games of chess with the City Lord of White Emperor City among the colorful clouds—their dispositions were as different as heaven and earth.
Liu Chicheng sighed, his expression dazed.
It was as if a glazed cup in his heart shattered with a crash—both loss and relief.
In his heart, no matter how bitterly he resented his senior brother's merciless Dao, that man with his sights set above all was ultimately an invincible existence, a figure of spotless brilliance who should not break precedent for anyone.
Liu Chicheng felt somewhat dispirited: "Since I can't become Chen Ping'an's master, I won't teach him swordsmanship. My Dao techniques aren't so cheap and worthless. Mr. Qi, since you're so capable, teach him yourself."
As if sulking, he turned around and strode toward the temple gate.
Qi Jingchun suddenly called out: "Please stay for a moment. I have a word to give you."
Liu Chicheng turned around, puzzled.
Suddenly, within his heart lake, ripples of extraordinary light and color began to gently stir.
Then, shock and ecstasy appeared on Liu Chicheng's face. After a surge of mixed emotions, he asked softly: "What a man you are, Qi Jingchun. Someone like you would be a remarkable mountain-top immortal in any world. How did you end up reduced to this?"
Qi Jingchun smiled and asked in return: "How is this 'being reduced to this'?"
Liu Chicheng was slightly stunned, then sincerely conceded: "I cannot match you. Consider this a favor owed to Chen Ping'an. In the future, once I've made a name for myself again in the Central Continent, Chen Ping'an can come to White Emperor City to find me."
Before leaving the temple, Liu Chicheng waved his sleeve, capturing the young fox immortal who had been hiding in the shadows, and departed with her.
The young fox immortal had earlier changed into a brand-new set of clothes, her face smeared with several ounces of rouge, red and green blotched together—laughably ridiculous. Was this what she mistakenly thought of as a "beauty"? In her bosom was her most treasured manual, printed crudely and full of errors, titled "Talents and Beauties," filled with love stories of men and women. It also taught some etiquette for gentlewomen, such as speaking with a soft, sweet voice, and when first meeting a handsome scholar, one should shyly lower one's head first, then timidly glance up to steal a look, then blush and lower the head again. There was great knowledge in it, and she benefited immensely. Some stories with sad endings would make her cry every time she read them.
When Liu Chicheng forcibly abducted her, she was terrified. But when she saw a handsome youth standing outside the temple, holding a willow branch with a red mark between his brows, she became elated, feeling that the heavens were kind to her, granting her a love at first sight with her desired groom.
Liu Chicheng took his disciple and the fox spirit down the mountain, heading off to unknown places.
Qi Jingchun looked around, then led Chen Ping'an out of the temple. On the open ground outside, under the moonlight, they gazed at the distant mountain scenery.
Qi Jingchun said softly: "Humans have three souls and seven spirits. The three souls are Tai Guang, Shuang Ling, and You Jing. After my death, I returned most of my soul and spirit energy back to this world. As for disciples like Li Baoping and Li Huai, I gave them a 'Qi' character each. But beside you, Zhao Yao, and Song Jixin, I secretly left a wisp of spring breeze using my residual three souls. My current identity cannot be considered the complete Qi Jingchun—I am merely a guardian accompanying you on part of your journey. The path Song Jixin has chosen increasingly diverges from orthodox Confucianism. Such is the way of the world—each has their own destiny, which cannot be forced."
"At the time, Zhao Yao was obstructed by Cui Chan and, compelled by circumstances, had to hand over that 'World Welcomes Spring' seal. This was something I had already calculated, so I told Zhao Yao beforehand not to be attached to the seal's existence. But after that, on his journey to another continent, he encountered another opportunity. However, his state of mind developed a flaw. In the future, you, as his nominal junior master-uncle, may need to help him."
Chen Ping'an wanted to speak but hesitated.
Qi Jingchun smiled: "You mean because you didn't agree to become my teacher's disciple, you don't count as my junior brother? No matter, even if you don't accept the old scholar as your teacher, I still consider you my junior brother."
Chen Ping'an scratched his head, nodding: "Alright!"
Qi Jingchun patted Chen Ping'an's shoulder: "Has this journey so far been tiring?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head: "It's been wonderfully exciting. Besides practicing boxing, I've crossed mountains and rivers, made new friends like Hero Xu and Zhang Shanfeng, and seen countless spirits and monsters. I'm not tired."
As if afraid that Mr. Qi wouldn't believe him, Chen Ping'an smiled: "Really, I'm not tired!"
Qi Jingchun hummed in acknowledgment.
He knew—this was only because the youth himself felt he wasn't tired. How could a bumpy, tumultuous journey not be tiring at all? Day after day of monotonous boxing practice, the burdens on those thin shoulders—mostly the expectations of others and the hardships of the world—required constant vigilance against the evil in people's hearts. The people and events he faced were all inexplicable. It would be strange if he weren't tired.
It's just that the youth bore the heavy burdens himself, but didn't want others to worry.
Upon learning that Mr. Qi didn't know everything, Chen Ping'an eagerly told him about the miraculous "Mountain-Crossing Crucian Carp," the "Flowing Clouds and Running Water Lane" of the Huangting Country inn, the city god temple in Rouge Commandery where Shen Wen admired Mr. Qi, the power of the landscape seals, Wei Bo who moved from Chess Board Mountain to his home's Cloak Cloud Mountain, the various ghostly maidens in wedding dresses and skeleton beauties with different temperaments. Of course, Chen Ping'an spoke most about that man in the bamboo hat—how when he talked about Mr. Qi, his face crinkled in a bright smile, yet at that moment, it seemed to be when A Liang was most sorrowful. Finally, he laughed and said that he had punched a fellow named Dao Lao'er back to the mortal world, but upon reunion, A Liang had told him not to rush in learning swordsmanship—that when fist techniques reached their pinnacle, that was already swordsmanship. So he, Chen Ping'an, wasn't particularly anxious...
Standing beside the youth who chattered endlessly, Qi Jingchun smiled and asked: "Do you miss A Liang very much?"
Chen Ping'an looked up at the sky, murmuring: "A Liang will always come back."
Chen Ping'an turned to look at Mr. Qi: "Right?"
Qi Jingchun smiled and nodded.
Chen Ping'an then asked: "And what about Mr. Qi?"
Qi Jingchun sighed, shaking his head: "Escorting you for thousands of miles, there must eventually be a parting. For me, Qi Jingchun, this life can only be like this."
Chen Ping'an lowered his head, silently staring at his feet.
This news—like when he was at the Yang Family Shop, though Chen Ping'an had sensed it coming, when he heard Old Man Yang utter those three words, "Not worth it," the heartbreak still came, and it was not ordinary heartbreak.
Qi Jingchun gently placed his hand on the youth's head: "This time, these residual souls served as guardians for you three. In the end, all the spring breezes have gathered here. Isn't it also letting you, Chen Ping'an, walk a journey in my stead? I have no regrets left."
Qi Jingchun smiled knowingly: "You can be sad, but you can drink too."
Chen Ping'an took down the sword-nurturing gourd at his waist, eyes red, and handed it to Qi Jingchun.
Qi Jingchun, whose form was increasingly dissipating and unstable, stretched and shook his head with a smile: "Let my share be saved for later."
Chen Ping'an didn't drink either, letting the gourd hang back at his waist.
He was afraid of truly becoming a drunkard.
Qi Jingchun suddenly said: "Chen Ping'an, shall I accompany you in one last practice of the fist?"
Chen Ping'an asked puzzledly: "The six-step standing stance?"
Qi Jingchun nodded.
Chen Ping'an took a deep breath, slowly stepping forward, throwing his fists with ease.
Under the pure moonlight, the green-robed Confucian scholar walked beside Chen Ping'an, following the youth's steps and punches, equally at ease.
After completing one round of the fist stance, Chen Ping'an gently stopped, no longer practicing.
He did not turn his head to look, just stared into the distance. The spring breeze was no longer swirling around his sleeves.
He knew.
Mr. Qi had truly departed.