Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-Nine: Practicing a Million Punches

Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-Nine: Practicing a Million Punches

At the summit of Osmanthus Island, beneath the ancient osmanthus tree that was the island's progenitor, Chen Ping'an stood in the shade where the summer heat scarcely reached. He could not help but think of the old locust tree in his hometown. But before him, the osmanthus tree's leaves were thick as a canopy, while the old locust tree was already gone. After a moment of sadness, Chen Ping'an smiled knowingly. He still remembered the scene of the little girl in the red cotton-padded jacket running with a locust branch. Li Baoping's lively and adorable nature, her fearlessness, and Fan Er's carefree attitude in Old Dragon City, able to make every day wonderful—all of this made Chen Ping'an deeply envious. He hoped that one day he could become someone like them. He wondered if this counted as what the sage's books called "seeing the worthy and wanting to emulate them."

Besides Chen Ping'an, a few ferry passengers stood scattered under the old osmanthus tree, all sightseers who had come because of its reputation, pointing and commenting. Some women chose spots and stood still, letting the Osmanthus Island painters, who were waiting there specifically, paint portraits for them. There was also a family of three asking an adept painter, a Qi refiner with exquisite skill, to paint a family portrait as a memento.

Fan Er had warned Chen Ping'an earlier in the carriage: among the guests traveling from Old Dragon City to Hanging Sword Mountain, there were those of high and low realms, good and bad backgrounds, but one thing they had in common was that none of them were easy to provoke. They could all, through convoluted connections, bring up some towering figure or immortal clan. Because besides its own warehouses of supplies, the Fan family also allowed many wealthy guests to store goods on Osmanthus Island. These people were not lacking in background or financial resources; some might even be richer than the Fan family could ever hope to be. They simply lacked a cross-continent ferry obtained by chance and a mature, stable shipping route.

Chen Ping'an was not one to seek trouble, so Fan Er's reminder was just icing on the cake.

At the moment, Chen Ping'an stood quietly at a distance, waiting for a middle-aged painter to finish his work and hand over the scroll. Only then did he approach, brushing past a woman who was joyfully holding her painting. He caught a glimpse of the scroll in the hands of a female Qi refiner—it was incredibly lifelike. Unlike the stiff, painted door gods on the doors of his hometown, the woman's clothes and hair in the painting drifted gently, and the osmanthus leaves swayed like ripples. However, with Chen Ping'an's sharp eyes, he noticed that the woman's true appearance was slightly different from the painting, as if the painter had beautified her a bit. Chen Ping'an was amazed. Compared to the rubbing technique on the Kun boat earlier, both had their own merits.

The middle-aged painter noticed the young swordsman carrying a sword on his back. He flexed his wrist. Behind him stood a young Osmanthus Island maid holding a small tray with the Four Treasures of the Study.

The painter smiled and asked, "Young master, would you like a painting as well? On this cross-continent journey from Osmanthus Island to Hanging Sword Mountain, there will be ten scenic views along the way. Each is a unique beauty in the world, and this ancestral osmanthus tree is one of them. Thanks to the immortal osmanthus, the paintings I create will have a faint, lingering fragrance, able to retain their colors for a hundred years without fading, and they are impervious to damage from insects and vermin. I assure you, you won't be disappointed."

Before setting out, Chen Ping'an had already put away his osmanthus guest wooden token. He nodded and smiled, "I want three identical paintings. May I ask, sir, how much it would cost?"

The middle-aged painter was taken aback. He didn't know if the straw-sandal-wearing youth in front of him was a hidden dragon among noble clans or just a wealthy kid ignorant of the world. Most people would order at most one painting; ordering three at once was unheard of. But no one refused more money. The painter smiled and said, "One painting costs thirty snow blossom coins. If you want three, I can give you a discount—just twenty-five coins for you."

The Osmanthus Island maid, whose looks were far inferior to Jin Su from the Cassia Branch Courtyard, smiled sweetly and added softly, "If you, young master, hold a special wooden token from Osmanthus Island, you can get an additional discount."

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "No, I'm just an ordinary guest."

Chen Ping'an took out twenty-five snow blossom coins and, as the maid instructed, placed them on the tray she held. The Fan family painter did not handle the money. Then the middle-aged painter had Chen Ping'an stand under the osmanthus tree, shifting positions a few times before finally choosing a spot with the best view. Chen Ping'an stood alone under the tree, facing the painter's scrutiny. He was clearly a bit nervous. After the painter kindly reassured him with a few words, he relaxed slightly, his limbs no longer so stiff, but his face still remained somewhat tense. The painter didn't dare to give too many instructions, thinking that at worst, he would just put more effort into his brushwork.

The maid couldn't help but smile. Such a shy guest was rare in Osmanthus Island, a place where immortals gathered. Some bold men and women had even asked if they could stand on the ancestral osmanthus tree and have the painter create a "climbing high, looking far" picture. Women asked if they could break off an osmanthus branch to hold in their hands. Of course, that wasn't allowed.

The middle-aged painter picked up his brush and gently flicked his sleeve. The rare paper from the Blue Luan Kingdom slid off the tray, slowly floating to hover before him, as if placed on a smooth painting table. The painter did not rush to put brush to paper. Instead, he began to gather his emotions—one must write with force that penetrates three-tenths of an inch into the wood, and for figure painting, one must capture the spirit and vitality.

With one hand behind his back and the other holding the brush, the painter gazed at the youth under the tree. He carried a sword box on his back, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, with bright eyes and slightly tanned skin. He wore uncommon straw sandals and simple, rather shabby clothes, but he was cleanly dressed, leaving no impression of slovenliness. Compared to the sturdy young men of the south, he was only slightly shorter. In the northern regions of Precious Bottle Continent, he might appear more youthful in stature.

But the skilled painter was surprised to find that he couldn't grasp the spirit and vitality of the youth before him. It wasn't that the youth lacked it, but the painter couldn't pin it down. He felt that no matter how he painted, it would be difficult to achieve a "perfect likeness" in capturing the essence. The painter didn't want to show weakness, lest this sure thing slip away. Twenty-five snowy coins—he could take a cut of five coins—was no small amount.

The middle-aged painter had no choice but to brace himself and begin painting, pretending to be confident.

The first portrait of the youth was merely a good physical likeness. Even an ordinary court painter from a secular dynasty, let alone a Qi refiner like himself, could achieve that. The painter was extremely dissatisfied but couldn't express his frustration.

After finishing the painting, the painter took a short break. The youth also took off his gourd from his waist and took a drink. After drinking, he became even more relaxed. The youth turned his head to look toward the northern land, a knowing smile appearing on his face, probably thinking of some happy person or event. When he turned back, he crossed his arms over his chest, puffed out his chest, and smiled brightly.

The painter inadvertently caught this scene. A flash of inspiration struck him. He had it.

Thus, the second painting clearly had much more spirit. The complex emotions of a young man traveling far from home unfolded slowly from the painter's brush.

During the painter's next break, the youth took another drink, then lost his smile. He no longer crossed his arms, and it seemed he didn't want the wine gourd at his waist to appear in the painting, so he hid it behind his back. But the youth's intangible aura became more stable, more like an adult who could take care of himself no matter how far from home.

The third painting was also quite satisfactory to the painter.

The maid had already skillfully mounted the three scrolls with white jade rollers. When Chen Ping'an jogged over and looked at the three paintings, he seemed very pleased and had no objections. Handing the paintings to the youth, the middle-aged painter felt a bit nervous. "I hope you are satisfied, young master."

Chen Ping'an took the three scrolls in both hands, smiling brightly. "They're excellent! Thank you!"

The middle-aged painter breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "If you ever want more paintings later, you can make an appointment with me. For the remaining nine scenic views on Osmanthus Island, I will definitely paint them on time. I'll give you a ten percent discount on all prices. My name is Su Yuting. Just ask any maid on the ferry, and they will find me."

Chen Ping'an nodded, thanked him again, and left.

In truth, Chen Ping'an didn't dare say that he probably wouldn't have many chances for the nine sea views later. With Zheng Dafeng's determination to train him to the breaking point, and Chen Ping'an's own tendency to seek hardship, he would likely not leave the Cassia Branch Courtyard for the rest of the journey.

Back in his room in the Cassia Branch Courtyard, Chen Ping'an began to write letters. He wrote each stroke carefully, though the result was very mechanical. Far from comparing with his disciple Cui Dongshan, even Li Baoping's calligraphy was leagues better.

Previously, at the Dust Pharmacy in Old Dragon City, Chen Ping'an had wanted to send letters to Cliff Academy and his hometown at Dragon Spring. But he was afraid of causing unnecessary trouble—after all, Old Dragon City belonged to the Fu family, so he didn't dare act rashly. Learning that the Fan family's Osmanthus Island had an immortal courier service for flying sword messages, he decided to wait until he was on board. This time, it was very timely. He had painted three portraits—one to be sent with a letter to Li Baoping, one as a family letter to be sent to Dragon Spring, and then he would ask the little green-clad boy and the pink-skirted girl to burn the painting on his parents' graves, so they would know he was doing well now. That was why he had hidden his Sword Nourishing Gourd while under the osmanthus tree—he couldn't let his parents know he had become a little drunkard.

After finishing two letters, Chen Ping'an took the two scrolls and left the courtyard again, heading for the immortal courier station. This time, he encountered the Osmanthus Island maid, Jin Su, at the entrance. Although Chen Ping'an insisted on going to the courier station alone to send the letters, Jin Su insisted on guiding him. She said that although she didn't live in the Cassia Branch Courtyard, she was still its maidservant. If Chen Ping'an handled such matters entirely by himself, she would certainly be punished by Aunt Gui and the Fan family. Chen Ping'an had no choice but to let her follow. Fortunately, once they reached the courier station, Jin Su remained silent and didn't interfere at all, even though Chen Ping'an put away his osmanthus guest token and paid as an ordinary guest. She acted as if she hadn't noticed.

Jin Su escorted Chen Ping'an back to the courtyard entrance and took her leave. Upon returning to her own residence, she found Aunt Gui in a quiet, elegant yard. They lived together.

Even the old-timers of Osmanthus Island didn't know that Jin Su was the only disciple of this woman.

Jin Su sat opposite her teacher. Aunt Gui smiled and asked, "What's on your mind? Is it about that youth?"

Jin Su, naturally cold in temperament, still didn't show much smile even before her teacher. "He's a bit strange."

Aunt Gui chuckled. "You're still just in this corner of Osmanthus Island, going back and forth on the ferry. You have few opportunities to interact with people, so it's only natural that you find that youth strange."

Jin Su, for once, showed a hint of girlish pout. "I've also disembarked a few times and visited the inner city. I've met many young talents of Old Dragon City."

The woman laughed softly. "And then you fell in love with Sun Jiashu at first sight? You even rejected Fu Nanhua's favor without any tact? Do you realize the Fan family would have preferred you to be closer to Fu Nanhua? But even though the Fan family are merchants, their family traditions are upright. Even when you were imprudent and almost caused trouble, they still wouldn't force you. Try that with another major clan in Old Dragon City—you would have suffered by now."

Jin Su's eyes sharpened. "The Fan family has treated me well, and I will repay them in the future. But if they push me too far in such matters..."

Before she could finish, the woman leaned forward and slapped her disciple's forehead heavily, sighing in exasperation. "Stop with the useless boasts. A cave abode Qi refiner who stumbled into the fifth realm, and you think you're some extraordinary genius? In terms of talent, you're about the same as that kid Fan. Impressive for Old Dragon City, but not the top of Precious Bottle Continent. Put you in the entire Righteous Qi World..."

She paused and sighed. Finding a disciple who is "of one's own intention" is incredibly difficult. Having a disciple break through realms and step higher is even harder. That's why true mountain immortals consider accepting disciples the most important task, second only to their own pursuit of immortality. She knew of two tenth-realm earth immortals and one Jade Pu realm cultivator who spent at least ten years, and at most a hundred, testing the character of a potential disciple before accepting their formal discipleship.

The proud young woman, deciding to have it out since no outsiders were present, moved to sit beside the woman, hugging Aunt Gui's arm and acting spoiled. "But Jin Su still has a good master, doesn't she?"

Aunt Gui tapped the young woman on the nose and teased, "You have a good master, but I have a lousy disciple who gives me grief."

The young woman hugged the woman's arm, resting her head on her shoulder, murmuring, "Master, do you think Sun Jiashu likes me?"

Aunt Gui didn't answer the question directly but teased, "Spring is gone, but the spring heart remains."

Jin Su blushed all over, complaining, "Master!"

The woman turned her head to gaze at her disciple's face, kindly smiling. "How could a man not like such a beautiful girl?"

Jin Su was overjoyed.

But the woman sighed again. "But have you considered that besides being an outstanding man, Sun Jiashu is also the head of the Sun family in Old Dragon City, a man ambitious to become the restorer of the Sun family, and moreover, a disciple highly regarded by the Business Alliance? Even if the two of you overcome all difficulties and end up together, once you marry a merchant's wife, your path of cultivation will become very difficult."

The young woman's expression darkened.

The woman stroked Jin Su's smooth black hair. "The road of the Dao is infinitely beautiful, but walking it is not easy. All choices and sacrifices are cultivation. Living in this world is itself a bitter cultivation."

Suddenly, the woman laughed. "What I don't understand, Master, is why you looked down on that kid Fan? Such a good child! If you could truly like him, I would risk my face and use up the thousand-year incense flame friendship with the Fan family to bring you two together."

Jin Su groaned, quickly sitting up straight. "Master, please don't play matchmaker! That Fan boy is so clueless, not a bit of heroism or ambition. He just fools around all day. If I fell for that little brat, that would truly be bewitched."

The woman shook her head with a smile.

Jin Su said softly, "Master, look at the friend Fan Er has made. So boring, like a block of wood, doing and saying everything by the book. No matter how good his family background or how much the Fan family treats him well, he'll never amount to much."

The woman thought for a moment. Regarding this, she neither agreed nor disagreed.

After Chen Ping'an returned to the courtyard, he had no more miscellaneous matters to worry about and began practicing the Six-Step Walking Stance.

The golden core old swordsman could have observed the youth's fist practice from inside his room without leaving, but the old man still walked out the door to openly watch the fist stance.

Chen Ping'an didn't mind and silently continued his practice.

Before boarding the ferry in Comb Water Kingdom, Chen Ping'an's walking stance practice was relatively slow. On the twenty-thousand-mile Dragon Path and later on the Yangzhi Hall ferry, he had been standing at the threshold of the fourth realm, so his punches were extremely fast—three hundred thousand punches seemed to be completed in the blink of an eye.

Now that he had broken through the bottleneck of the third realm and reached the fourth, Chen Ping'an slowed down his punching speed again.

For a pure martial artist, the three realms of Qi refining are about refining Qi—not the Qi refining of cultivators—but the hard work on soul, spirit, and courage.

The old man surnamed Cui in the bamboo building of the Fallen Mountain had said that Chen Ping'an, as the strongest in the third realm, would have a smooth road through the three Qi refining realms once he successfully broke through.

As for the forging of the fourth realm, Chen Ping'an felt a bit adrift and empty, unlike the first three realms, which felt like stepping on solid ground step by step.

So for now, he didn't have a deep sense of whether his fourth realm was sufficiently solid.

The old man had suggested that for the fourth, fifth, and sixth realms, the best opportunity was to seek fortune on ancient battlefields—various yin winds and baleful auras, the strongest yang winds of heaven, and chaotic Qi of mixed origins—all of which are excellent for tempering soul, spirit, and courage. Ultimately, the key word was "suffering."

This was battling heaven and earth.

The next best was battlefield slaughter, immersing oneself in blood-drenched, desperate battles to truly understand "the whole world as an enemy."

The third best was the martial world's one-on-one battles, using martial arts masters or fifth-realm cultivators as whetstones to hone one's martial arts.

As for the Sword Qi Great Wall, with sword qi raging freely between heaven and earth, it inherently repelled all Qi refiners except swordsmen, let alone pure martial artists. Many martial artists couldn't gauge their limits properly, or their protectors weren't capable enough, and they died abruptly on the Sword Qi Great Wall in their greed for realm advancement. That's why the old man insisted that Chen Ping'an must reach the fourth realm before setting out for Hanging Sword Mountain, climb the city wall, and then come down alive.

As for how long Chen Ping'an would need to endure on the city wall, or how to gauge his limits and climb the wall as many times as possible, the old man didn't say a single word more—he probably considered it all useless talk.

The barefoot old man's standards were too high. He had already reached the peak of the tenth realm a hundred years ago, so his gaze looked toward the highest point of the Righteous Qi World.

Thus, many "enlightened masters" of martial arts would have repeated many words of advice, but the old man didn't say a single one to Chen Ping'an.

For instance, the opportunities for breaking through between the third and fourth, or the sixth and seventh realms—he said nothing.

Also, the mysteries of the strongest person in each martial realm—he didn't speak of them either.

The less the old man said, the higher his expectations.

"With a disciple I've taught hand by hand, what is the ninth realm? The tenth realm isn't even worth a glance!"

"You, Chen Ping'an, should be heading straight for the legendary Martial God realm!"

"I, this old Cui with a heart higher than the heavens, must feel that you, Chen Ping'an, are above the heavens!"

But such is the wonder of the world: the old Cui said very little, yet Chen Ping'an understood more.

As for the two consecutive heaven-sent opportunities in the Sun ancestral home, Chen Ping'an's first experience was one of confusion—he only felt that he had to throw that punch. After learning the truth, even after standing vigil night after night, struggling to seize the opportunity when it came, at that moment, Chen Ping'an suddenly realized that he needed to throw that punch again!

And without hesitation, he beat back the golden cloud sea dragons formed from golden Qi, sending them back to the sky.

Neither the old nor the young were reasonable.

The golden core realm swordsman, Ma Zhi, wasn't surprised at first, but after watching the youth practice for a long time, he finally saw the truth.

The old man shook his head with a bitter smile, feeling like he was seeing ghosts.

A pure martial artist's soul, spirit, and courage were already taking shape, just waiting to be tempered. This meant that from the fourth realm to the sixth would be very fast—unobstructed, in fact. If he were to pursue speed in martial advancement, it would be enough to frighten others.

If not for knowing in advance that the youth had just entered the fourth realm, the old man wouldn't have been so shocked. But Mr. Zheng had been adamant: the youth was only fourth realm.

How could there be such an overbearing fourth realm under heaven?

The old man found that the lifebound flying sword in his qi mansion was stirring restlessly.

He actually had a thought to test the youth with a sword.

A ninth-realm golden core swordsman seriously drawing a sword against a fourth-realm pure martial artist?

The old man was filled with melancholy and felt that he was truly old.

But soon, the old swordsman let it go. The world was vast, and he was just a frog at the bottom of a well hiding in Old Dragon City. How many geniuses of the nine continents could he see?

The young man before him, practicing his fists with a sword on his back, was just one of them.

The old man had an odd idea and asked with a smile, "Chen Ping'an, you're not trying to become the strongest fourth-realm martial artist under heaven, are you?"

Chen Ping'an had just finished a cycle of Six-Step Walking Stance and continued punching as he turned, answering, "I must be."

The old man assumed that this young man, who could use his connections to have him test his sword, must come from the most top-tier noble clans or immortal sects of Precious Bottle Continent. With his lofty heart and youthful disposition, it didn't seem too abrupt. This kind of vigorous, young arrogance was not unpleasant.

The old man didn't know.

The fist stance that the young man practiced—such a simple routine—he had already done hundreds of thousands of times.

At dusk, the Osmanthus Island ferry, previously obscured by the massive island, slowly set sail. If someone stood on the city wall of Old Dragon City and looked into the distance, they could see the ferry's enormous silhouette.

Of course, if you were on this lonely island in the sea, you could see it clearly.

Such as Sun Jiashu, the head of the Sun family.

This time when he left Old Dragon City, Sun Jiashu did not bring any family attendants, because he had a young swordsman from Wind Thunder Manor with him, Liu Baqiao.

Liu Baqiao, who had rushed to Old Dragon City in a disheveled manner, was now squatting on the railing of the island's scenic pavilion, looking into the distance at Osmanthus Island. He looked tired and dispirited—tired from the long southward sword flight, and his desolate expression was one of mixed emotions. It was as if a pent-up depression had climbed from his belly to his throat, and he wanted to spit it out but was afraid of hurting his friend.

Sun Jiashu said softly, "Why not go to Osmanthus Island and explain?"

Even though Liu Baqiao was a genius swordsman, rushing away from Wind Thunder Manor in such a hurry and flying such a long distance had left his lips chapped. He wiped them and shook his head. "I have no face to see Chen Ping'an."

Sun Jiashu leaned against the pavilion pillar, sitting beside Liu Baqiao, and said bitterly, "This time, I wronged you."

Liu Baqiao waved his hand. "I'm angry, but there's still reason. Chen Ping'an is my Liu Baqiao's friend, not necessarily yours, Sun Jiashu. I didn't expect Chen Ping'an to have so many secrets, and even you, Sun Jiashu, couldn't resist the temptation of wealth. In the end, it's my fault. I still underestimated my friend's abilities. Sun Jiashu, don't feel guilty because of what I said. There's no need, and it's not right."

Sun Jiashu rested his arm on the railing, turned sideways. The breeze brushed his face, making the already handsome man even more ethereal. He said softly, "Reason is reason, but things shouldn't have become so bad. You neither curse me nor beat me, and now you're still reasoning with me. I know better than anyone that you, Liu Baqiao, hate reasoning with words. So it feels like you're about to cut ties with me."

Liu Baqiao shook his head. "No. You're overthinking."

Liu Baqiao turned his head and gave a wry smile. "Really."

Sun Jiashu smiled. "I've dragged you so badly this time. Doesn't it count as 'I offered my heart to the bright moon, but the moon shines on the gutter'?"

Liu Baqiao looked into the distance again and grinned. "Sour. Sourer than Chen Ping'an's pickled vegetables."

Sun Jiashu laughed, but in his heart, he sighed.

The two of them rose and returned to Old Dragon City. Sun Jiashu took Liu Baqiao to the Sun ancestral home.

That anchor-like, Nascent Soul realm Sun clan ancestor took an immediate liking to Liu Baqiao, this rising star of Wind Thunder Manor, at their first meeting.

As an earth immortal, the old man rarely touched his chopsticks these days, but today he still sat at a table with the two young men and had a late-night meal, all dishes that Liu Baqiao loved.

Liu Baqiao cracked jokes with the old man, acting just like his old self—boasting and flattering without any shame, and teasing just as unapologetically. The old man was in fits of laughter.

Liu Baqiao still had to return to Wind Thunder Manor. After eating, he put on the Old Dragon Cloud-Scaling Pendant and left on his sword.

In the night, Sun Jiashu sat alone on the shore, holding a fishing rod, silently fishing.

In the deep of the night, Sun Jiashu suddenly looked up.

Liu Baqiao had turned back on his sword and landed behind Sun Jiashu. Without a word, he kicked the Sun family head into the river.

Then, the Wind Thunder Manor swordsman fell silent and continued northward.

Sun Jiashu, drenched like a drowned rat, climbed ashore and instead smiled happily.

The Sun clan ancestor appeared beside Sun Jiashu out of thin air and said with deep meaning, "A friend like Liu Baqiao—whether it's sixty years or a hundred, a thousand years—being able to have one is a blessing. Treasure it well."

Sun Jiashu wiped his face and smiled. "I truly understand that now. Ancestor, can I be willful once in the future and do something that Sun Jiashu wants to do, but as the head of the Sun family?"

The old man said without hesitation, "The Sun family ancestors would gladly see it."

Sun Jiashu suddenly bowed deeply to the old man. "Thank you, ancestor, for your grace!"

The old man laughed heartily. "Get up! Unseemly! Brat, you're the head of the family now."

Sun Jiashu picked up his fishing rod and basket and strode quickly back to the Sun ancestral home. That very night, he left and returned to Sun Mansion in the inner city to handle affairs.

Not long after Sun Jiashu left, a golden core realm attendant of the Sun ancestral home came to find the Sun ancestor, getting straight to the point with a smile. "With such a head of the family, I am willing to renew my century-old agreement with the Sun family."

The old man laughed and agreed.

Finally, the old man went alone to the ancestral hall, silently lit three sticks of incense.

At the Dust Pharmacy.

Since Fan Er no longer needed to be punished at the family shrine, the boy openly came to find Mr. Zheng for a chat.

When the boy arrived, the man was leaning on the counter, flirting with a plump woman from the shop, asking her if her husband, a driver, still had any energy when he got home after a hard day's work. The woman, used to the shopkeeper's antics at the Dust Pharmacy, replied with a flirtatious smile, "I've had the carpenter come fix our bed several times already."

Fan Er happened to overhear this and pretended not to understand. The woman blushed a little—after all, talking wildly with the shopkeeper was just for fun, but in front of an outsider like this, she really didn't dare be that bold. Zheng Dafeng didn't want to let the woman off. He said to Fan Er with a smile, "If your house ever needs the carpenter to fix the bed, you can ask this sister to introduce a friend."

Fan Er said, "Oh."

The shop immediately erupted in mock outrage. Some threatened to sew the shopkeeper's mouth shut, others threatened not to cook for him even if he paid. Zheng Dafeng just acted as if they were tickling him and took the boy with a grin to the backyard. Before they sat down, Fan Er had already helped Zheng Dafeng prepare his old tobacco pipe. After taking a puff, Zheng Dafeng felt incredibly refreshed thinking that that kid had finally left Old Dragon City.

Fan Er sat on a small stool and asked, "Mr. Zheng, are you going to the Fu family wedding?"

Zheng Dafeng said in a bad mood, "If I were the groom on the wedding night, I'd go."

Fan Er whispered, "I heard that Fu Nanhua's not-yet-wedded wife is... not very good-looking."

Zheng Dafeng sneered. "The daughter of the Yunlin Jiang clan, not good-looking? If she were my wife, I'd never leave the bed!"

Fan Er was speechless.

Mr. Zheng was good at everything, but his directness was a bit hard to take.

When it came to conversation, he still preferred chatting with Chen Ping'an.

Zheng Dafeng suddenly asked, "Does Chen Ping'an consider you a friend?"

Fan Er nodded vigorously. "Yes! We are very good friends now!"

Zheng Dafeng looked up and blew out smoke rings, saying with amusement, "A fool with foolish luck."

Fan Er rarely contradicted his teacher, whose martial arts were as high as the heavens. "Sir, don't say that about Chen Ping'an. He's not a fool; he's very clever. Even I admire him for knowing so many things. I feel that knowing Chen Ping'an is my fortune."

Zheng Dafeng glanced at this simple-minded boy. "No wonder you become friends."

Zheng Dafeng's expression turned serious. "I've just personally confirmed two things. Fan Er, listen carefully."

Fan Er immediately straightened up and listened attentively.

Zheng Dafeng held up one finger. "My senior brother, Li Er, was once the strongest ninth realm in the world. And I, Zheng Dafeng, was once the strongest eighth realm. So Li Er had a pair of very accomplished children and married someone... let's not go into that. I was one step away—just one step—from completing an unprecedented feat: jumping from the eighth realm directly to the tenth. Now, looking back at Chen Ping'an's three martial realms, which caused two heavenly anomalies, and all his current belongings, there's a saying that is absolutely true!"

Fan Er's eyes widened in curiosity.

Zheng Dafeng spoke solemnly. "If you become the strongest in any martial realm in the entire Righteous Qi World, you can receive an endless stream of blessings. But of course, if you try to squat in the outhouse without shitting, that won't work. You still need to break through realms, or it goes against the martial arts purpose, which would be bad instead."

Fan Er asked cautiously, "Sir, you mean I am the strongest third realm under heaven? But my sister says my talent is mediocre, not very good at all. Is it because her eyesight isn't as good as yours? Haha, no wonder you said he and I became good friends. So we're the number one and number two third-realm martial artists..."

Zheng Dafeng was annoyed and pointed toward the bamboo curtain door. "Get lost. Go sit over there."

Fan Er quickly moved his stool to the corner he indicated, obediently sitting there. So he had guessed wrong.

He had only been around Chen Ping'an for a few days. He had been a fairly clever kid, but now he was suddenly so dense?

Zheng Dafeng took a deep drag on his pipe. "Your third realm can be broken through soon. When you reach the fourth realm, I intend to help you fight for that one chance. Though it's very slim, I am at least a ninth-realm martial artist. I'm not too far behind Li Er and Song Changjing. I don't believe that if I, for once, seriously try, there's anything I absolutely can't do!"

Fan Er said timidly, "The strongest fourth realm?"

Zheng Dafeng nodded. "At least you haven't given your brains to that Chen guy."

Zheng Dafeng put on a serious face, but inside he was secretly delighted. While Chen Ping'an is suffering on Osmanthus Island and the Sword Qi Great Wall, he will also have to pass a dangerous bottleneck that ordinary martial artists wouldn't even dream of—extremely dangerous for him. In the end, even if he passes that bottleneck and endures countless hardships, the strongest fourth realm will be your friend Fan Er, not you, kid. Isn't that interesting?

But then again, in the entire Righteous Qi World, there are tens of thousands of heaven-blessed geniuses walking the martial path. Fan Er, who isn't particularly talented, can't even beat them all, so Chen Ping'an doesn't have to worry about competing for the strongest fourth realm.

Just then, Fan Er, after holding it in for a long time, couldn't help but say, "Sir, according to what you said, Chen Ping'an is already in the fourth realm. If I sneakily become this fourth realm, would I ever have to compete with him one day? Sir, actually, when I started learning martial arts, it was just because I didn't have talent as a Qi refiner. I just wanted to reach a high enough realm, like the eighth realm, so I can fly like a Qi refiner. I don't have much confidence in becoming the strongest fourth realm, and I don't really want it..."

At the end, the boy lowered his head and dared not face Zheng Dafeng.

Zheng Dafeng's enthusiasm and ambition were doused like a bucket of cold water over the head.

Fortunately, Zheng Dafeng's mental fortitude was far beyond ordinary, or he wouldn't have reached his current realm. He dismissed it as another spur-of-the-moment, boring idea.

Zheng Dafeng smiled. "Don't rule it out now. Wait until you break into the fourth realm. If you change your mind then, tell me."

Fan Er smiled. "Okay."

Zheng Dafeng waved his hand. "Get out. No ambition at all. Annoying to look at."

The boy stood up, put the stool back, and as he reached the bamboo curtain door, he turned back and grinned. "I take after you, sir—I just want to enjoy life."

Zheng Dafeng rolled his eyes.

The boy passed through the deserted pharmacy, greeting the women and girls as he went.

Stepping out of the Dust Pharmacy, Fan Er looked up at the sky. He wondered when his sister would come home. If she happened to find him an unpleasant brother-in-law during this trip to the Great Li of the north, he would have a headache. His sister was good, his parents were good, the ancestors were good, the guest retainers were good, Mr. Zheng was good, and his new friend Chen Ping'an was good too—only a brother-in-law would be bad? How awkward.

The boy shook his head and walked alone through the alley. When he was sure no one was around, he threw a few punches in what he thought was the most imposing, powerful "turtle fist" style.

It was a pity Chen Ping'an wasn't there to see it; he would definitely bow in admiration.

Next time they met, he would definitely learn from the martial heroes: cut a chicken's head, burn yellow paper, and become sworn brothers!

Fan Er grew happier the more he thought about it, and his punches became more and more like turtle punches. He even softly cheered himself on. When he stopped, he grunted, "This set of punches, truly stirring and soulful!"

The boy didn't know that behind him in the alley, at the entrance of the Dust Pharmacy, stood a young woman in a green robe, her face tired as if returning from a long journey. Drinking wine, she watched the boy's back and muttered, "Fan Er—truly, his parents didn't name him wrong. He is second to a fault."

On Osmanthus Island, sailing across the sea, Chen Ping'an practiced the Six-Step Walking Stance over and over again in the Cassia Branch Courtyard under the night sky.

Before arriving at the Sword Qi Great Wall, he might truly throw a million punches!

After the walking stance, Chen Ping'an began to practice the Sword Furnace Standing Stance.

In the dead of night, Chen Ping'an returned to his room. In the height of summer, he lay on a priceless bamboo mat as cool as water. Habitually, he placed his wooden box on the inside of the bed, where he could grab it in a moment.

He closed his eyes and slowly fell asleep.

There was a smile on the boy's face.

He was going to that Sword Qi Great Wall, to practice his fist stances on its battlements.