Chapter 265: The Senior Brother's Surname Is Zuo

Chapter 265: The Senior Brother's Surname Is Zuo

Chen Ping'an had made a mistake while drawing a lock-breaking talisman. If before, at the moment the small snow cone touched the talisman paper, the scene was one of a bright moon rising from the sea, then when this talisman was completed, it was like a red sun, about the same size as a well mouth. Yet there was no burning sensation, only a warm and gentle feeling. After Chen Ping'an spoke those eight words, this talisman seemed to lose its true qi pull, wobbled and drifted, landed on the sea surface, then slowly sank into the Jiaolong Trench, causing no further strange phenomena on the sea.

But those massive creatures coiled at the bottom of the Jiaolong Trench transformed into human forms without exception—either as old men or old women. They left their lairs, stood on the stone walls of the trench, and bowed to that talisman. With these old-timers, who were of the same generation as the golden-robed old flood dragon, making such a big commotion, many young and ignorant members of the flood dragon clan—those with weak combat power who had not had the chance to participate in the great battle at Osmanthus Island, or who had been forcibly detained at the seabed by their ancestors—even though they had not yet condensed a human form, still imitated the action and vigorously nodded in homage to that talisman.

Then these ancient beings, who had lived for who knows how many years, each displayed secret techniques and divine powers, using ancient aquatic sounds to scold the flood dragon descendants who had attacked Osmanthus Island, with extremely harsh wording.

Those "young adult" water dragons, snakes, and pythons looked at each other in confusion, shock, and reluctance. But each clan's patriarch threatened that if they did not return to the Jiaolong Trench within half an incense stick of time, they would first be expelled from the clan, then subjected to flaying, and finally left to drift on the sea surface, exposed to the sun for three years. Only those who survived could be recognized as descendants.

They had followed the golden-robed old flood dragon, and the patriarchs had tacitly permitted it. Most of these young descendants had suffered hardships in the Southern Sea and on the Continent of Suanni, following that golden-robed old flood dragon in hopes that one day they could go to the Continent of Suanni and slaughter the pure Confucian Chen clan disciples and the qi refiners stationed along the coast. But now the patriarchs had issued orders, and the golden-robed old flood dragon had no objections, so they had no choice but to leap away from above Osmanthus Island, plunge into the sea, and return home one by one to demand an explanation from their patriarchs.

After that, before taking the decree, the golden-robed old flood dragon swung his sword at the young man who had ruined his hundred-year plan.

A decree from Lu Chen?

Who was Lu Chen? The old flood dragon had certainly heard of him. According to his ancestors, this perfected being, one of the Daoist sect leaders, before ascending, most enjoyed traveling the four seas on a small boat, and seemed not to like staying on land. There was also a rumor about a boatman who specifically steered Lu Chen's small boat. When he went out to sea, he was thirty years old. By the time Lu Chen ascended in the Northern Sea, he returned alone to land. When he got home, he found that his familiar homeland and mountains and rivers were no more. His name was only left on a family tree from three hundred years ago. After that, the boatman, whose name could not be traced, went to sea again to search for Lu Chen, and from then on, there was no news.

Was the golden-robed old flood dragon afraid of the sect leader Lu Chen?

Afraid, of course, but certainly not to the point of trembling at the mere sound of his name.

Because he was in this Haoran World, while Lu Chen was in that Qingming World.

The more exalted the status of someone like Lu Chen, the harder it was for them to visit another world, and the rules were complex. Every move would be watched by Confucian sages.

Once Lu Chen personally took action, he would break the rules. At that point, the Confucian sages he deeply detested would instead become his and the Jiaolong Trench's protective talisman. It was even possible that the one who might help him would be that pure Confucian Chen clan ancestor, who bore the sun and moon on his shoulders.

But not being too fearful didn't mean one should dismiss it entirely. Provoking a sage, even across a world, was never a good thing.

The golden-robed old flood dragon sneered inwardly. This sect leader, born in the Haoran World but holding a lineage of Dao in another world—truly well-named.

As for that annoying young man who had sacrificed a pair of mountain and river seals to block his sword qi...

The golden-robed old flood dragon curled his lips. Such a thing could happen once, but not twice. Although he hated the young man before him to the core, the old flood dragon was preparing to withdraw. True gains and losses were not about the short term. Today's events had exceeded expectations too much. He might have already attracted the attention of the inspection patrols from the southern sea coast of Suanni Continent. It was better to be cautious; if he gave them a handle, it could ruin great plans.

The old flood dragon clicked his tongue and laughed: "Pity about this seal. Being able to block a full-power sword strike from a Jade Purity realm sword immortal is not something a broken fish basket can compare to. Little one, does your heart ache now?"

Chen Ping'an answered the question indirectly: "If I had a good number of top-grade snake bile stones from the Lizhu Cave Heaven, how many would it take to exchange for safe passage through Osmanthus Island?"

The golden-robed old flood dragon was taken aback. "You mean that Lizhu Cave Heaven above the back of Bottle Gourd Prefecture? If they are top-grade snake bile stones rich in spiritual energy, for us, they are no less important than a dragon-slaying platform to a swordsman. For flood dragon descendants below the Nascent Soul realm, one stone secures a stable advancement in cultivation. Let me calculate—one Osmanthus Island, one Madame Gui, two thousand qi refiners' lives... Boy, unless you have a big pile of snake bile stones."

The golden-robed old man extended both hands and flipped them over. "At least twenty. Do you have them?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I've given some away over the years. I don't have that many left."

He struggled to stand up. The osmanthus tree generated from that branch had been destroyed by the old flood dragon's sword qi impact.

Chen Ping'an put away the brush, the small snow cone, and the solitary water seal into his storage artifact. Understanding the situation, the flying swords Chuyi and Shiwu quickly shot out of Chen Ping'an's shaken soul and returned to the Sword-nurturing Gourd. This time, they didn't hide; the old flood dragon had already seen through them anyway.

The golden-robed old flood dragon narrowed his eyes.

One of the swords in the wooden box on the young man's back gave him a considerable sense of threat.

A Lu Chen decree that overturns heaven and earth, a bunch of Lizhu Cave Heaven snake bile stones, a pair of mountain and river seals, a brush that "has divine power in writing," a decent-quality Sword-nurturing Gourd—and he was surnamed Chen.

The golden-robed old flood dragon became increasingly certain that his timely withdrawal was a wise move.

Pity, pity. If he had killed this guy with that sword strike just now, there would have been no future trouble. As for the ensuing complications, he wasn't afraid at all.

In terms of cultivation realm, he, a pseudo-sage, dared not be careless. But when it came to backing, he really didn't think he was inferior to anyone.

The old flood dragon saw the old boatman, who had damaged his natal soul, standing behind the young man with a wary expression. He laughed: "Don't worry. That lock-breaking talisman carries a lot of face. My courage can only sustain me for one strike."

The old flood dragon withdrew his gaze and looked back at Chen Ping'an. "Since you have snake bile stones, why didn't you say so from the start? Why did we have to fight and damage our goodwill?"

Chen Ping'an retorted: "Are you joking or serious?"

The golden-robed old flood dragon's face darkened.

The old boatman sneered: "At that time, you had the upper hand and were eager to kill and seize treasures. Would you have sat down to negotiate with a young man?"

The golden-robed old flood dragon ignored the Golden Core old man's sarcasm, staring intently at the young man. "Too clever doesn't live long."

Chen Ping'an turned his head and said: "Senior, return to Osmanthus Island first. I have some words I want to say alone to this... to this senior old flood dragon."

The old boatman shook his head and said solemnly: "As long as the green mountains remain, there's no shortage of firewood. Chen Ping'an, you are still young. On the path of cultivation, these setbacks—whether they are blessings or disasters is still uncertain. Don't dwell on them..."

Whether it was an illusion, the old man felt that the young man before him seemed to be still immersed in the divine intent of that talisman, unable to pull himself out.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Senior, I know what I'm doing."

Chen Ping'an wanted to raise his hands in salute to express thanks, but could only lift his right hand; his entire left arm, which had done the writing, couldn't bend. So Chen Ping'an used his right hand to make a fist and gently tapped his heart. "I'll return to Osmanthus Island soon and invite you for a drink, senior."

The old man hesitated, nodded, and returned to the adjacent small boat, which slowly sailed toward Osmanthus Island.

After the old boatman had gone far, Chen Ping'an slapped the Sword-nurturing Gourd. Chuyi and Shiwu each hovered by the young man's shoulders, and then he again summoned that water seal.

The golden-robed old flood dragon laughed. "What, want to fight it out with me?"

Chen Ping'an grinned. "When talking to certain people, if your fists aren't hard, they won't listen to any good reasoning. That lock-breaking talisman earlier was proof. So the principle I figured out myself works on you. Let me ask a question: What rules did the Fan family and Madame Gui set with you that justified you killing more than two thousand people?"

The old flood dragon grew impatient and said darkly: "You think this rule is unreasonable?"

He unconsciously tapped his foot, isolating this place from the outside.

Then he laughed: "Have you ever considered that our flood dragon clan, this lineage of the Jiaolong Trench, from the time we were exiled to when we settled here—do you know how many lives were lost along the way? Over the years, how many lives have been unjustly taken because of those damn rules set by the Confucian sages?"

Chen Ping'an retorted: "Do you think that just because the Confucian rules are wrong, the rules you set are somehow right? Even if, hypothetically, the sages were wrong, does that give you the right to make mistakes? Moreover, if you have the ability, go argue with the Confucian sages, or fight them. Why take it out on the Osmanthus Island ferry?"

The old flood dragon laughed heartily. "What? Just letting out some resentment, and not nearly enough."

Chen Ping'an said: "From this perspective, the Confucian sages not slapping you to death was the real mistake."

The old flood dragon smiled instead of getting angry. "Boy, what are you going on and on about? Are you trying to flaunt your backing and threaten me that one day your clan's patriarch or your teacher will come find trouble for me and the Jiaolong Trench?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I have no relatives at home, nor... a master."

The old flood dragon suddenly felt a bit confused. "You're asking for death?"

He nodded. "Strange. I actually believe what you said. Alright, since you have no elders or master to back you up, I've got a bit of courage again—enough to kill you."

The old flood dragon acted with decisiveness. His golden robe billowed without wind. He raised his hand, and a speck of golden light appeared in the sky, slowly descending, drawing out a golden thread.

Chen Ping'an was completely unaware of this. He stepped forward to the front of the small boat, looked down into the deep sea, seemingly searching for that lock-breaking talisman. He said softly: "Lu Chen, I know you're watching this place. I've guessed some of your intentions. But I used your name to repel the enemy, and you used that to scheme against me. On this matter, we're even. But please tell A Liang in the sky: the one who kills Chen Ping'an is the Southern Sea's Jiaolong Trench."

After saying this.

Chen Ping'an punched his chest hard with his right fist. Earlier, when he tapped his chest with the old boatman, it was to calm his mind so he could speak these words to Lu Chen. Now, with one punch, he stirred up turbulent waves in his heart lake, even completely dispersing the talisman divine intent within him, transforming it back into the Foothill Fist intent. In the end, Chen Ping'an was giving Lu Chen no chance to use his supreme Daoist method to communicate with him.

Chen Ping'an's left arm still couldn't be lifted. His right hand, which had formed a fist, unclenched its five fingers, reached over his shoulder, and grasped the sword that was supposed to be given to a certain girl.

Chen Ping'an suddenly released his grip, took down the ginger gourd from his waist. This time, he drank just to drink, no longer to exchange breath for martial artists on the battlefield, no longer to hide the traces of Chuyi and Shiwu. After drinking, Chen Ping'an casually tossed the Sword-nurturing Gourd at his feet in the boat, and silently said in his heart: "A Liang, Mr. Qi, Miss Ning—I'm sorry to all of you."

He had initially thought to draw a lock-breaking talisman to qualify himself to negotiate terms with the golden-robed old flood dragon, using all the snake bile stones in exchange for Osmanthus Island's safe passage out of the Jiaolong Trench.

He had thought that when he reached Inverted Mountain, he must give more Grain Rain coins to the Golden Core sword cultivator Ma Zhi.

He had also thought that before disembarking, he must ask the Fan family for a map of Osmanthus Island. Then, after leaving the ship and arriving at Inverted Mountain, he would secretly take out the mountain and river seal that Mr. Qi had given him and gently stamp it.

Many things flashed through Chen Ping'an's mind like a revolving lantern.

——

Unbeknownst to him, that golden sword qi, thin as hair, in the sky had long since vanished.

The golden-robed old flood dragon's face was slightly pale. Although he was suspicious and extremely unwilling to believe the words the young man had spoken, what if?

What if?

He couldn't help but turn his head to look in the direction of Inverted Mountain, wanting to speak but stopping.

But the next moment, the golden-robed old flood dragon's face was full of joy. He nodded slightly, then burst into loud laughter. The golden sword qi in the sky reappeared, but this time it wasn't just a single strand—it was countless strands, like delicate water lotuses suspended in a sea of clouds, swaying gracefully.

An inverted mountain.

A tall man in a Daoist robe stood at the cliff's edge, gazing into the distance. His line of sight was not on the Jiaolong Trench he had casually set up, nor on the peak of the cliff where two deities faced each other, nor on the young woman in a green robe sitting on the shoulder of the Rain Master deity drinking wine. Instead, it was in the sea of clouds, a refined man in a blue gown with a long sword at his waist, who had set out from the sea near Old Dragon City and would soon arrive at the Jiaolong Trench.

This man had been away from the human world for far too many years. The reason was quite interesting: his sword qi was too thick, so thick that no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, he could not stop it from spilling out in all directions. Anything that came close to him turned into powder.

So this man only traveled through places sparsely populated: high in the clouds, the four seas, deep mountains and ridges, miasmic lands...

The tall Daoist's eyes burned with fervor. This man was worthy of a fight!

But he soon frowned. On the sea surface beneath that Confucian-robed sword cultivator, there was a wooden-faced man punting a boat with a bamboo pole, traversing thousands of feet in an instant, as fast as thunder—surprisingly not inferior to the renowned sword immortal above him.

The wooden-faced man said dully: "My master said that this scheme involving Chen Ping'an was for his own good. If he took Qi Jingchun's mountain seal to Inverted Mountain, with the bad temper of that proud disciple of the second senior uncle, Chen Ping'an would suffer greatly. Besides, my master sincerely hopes Chen Ping'an can find a new path to the Qingming World. He is willing to accept Chen Ping'an as a closed-door disciple."

That elegant and handsome celestial sword cultivator didn't even lift his eyelids. He just looked down at the distant Jiaolong Trench and said only one sentence: "You, a nominal disciple of Lu Chen, want to compete with our Little Qi for a junior brother? Fine then, how about you take one of my sword strikes?"

The man was not annoyed. His tone still carried that innate dullness: "No fighting. I only know how to row a boat."

Where the sword cultivator passed, if there were clouds, they would be cut apart by themselves. After a moment, he said somewhat displeased: "Then why are you following me?"

That boatman replied honestly: "To go and explain things to Chen Ping'an in person, so he doesn't misunderstand my master."

The sword cultivator suddenly said very seriously: "But I find you quite annoying. What to do?"

The boatman thought for a moment. "Then I won't go."

Sure enough, that small boat came to an abrupt halt.

The man nodded. "You're not stupid."

He flew away on the wind, full of resentment, muttering to himself, asking and answering his own questions.

"Little Qi wanted me to be your protector. Would I agree? Little Qi is foolish from reading too many books. I'm not."

"So I won't agree."

The sword cultivator seemed to be in an even worse mood and began to accelerate forward, causing the air behind him to vibrate with loud rumbling, like a series of thunderclaps echoing through the sea of clouds.

As he was about to pass near the two statues of the Rain Master and the Divine General, someone loudly reprimanded him, forbidding the sword cultivator from flying over the sect's airspace, ordering him to take a detour.

The sword cultivator glanced down casually, pressed his thumb against the sword hilt, pushed lightly, and the long sword dropped toward the sea. Only a few feet above the water, it shot up in an instant, a rainbow of sword qi streaking out, splitting the Divine General statue in two. Golden light exploded like a rising sun.

The sword flashed away, caught up with its master, and quietly returned to its sheath.

The sword cultivator continued on.

Reason with someone?

He never liked that.

If you have to reason with people, why bother learning swordsmanship?

The sword cultivator suddenly looked up. "Brandishing sword qi right in front of me? Do you think you're A Liang?"

More than seven or eight hundred li from the Jiaolong Trench, the sword cultivator in the clouds turned his wrist, then slapped outward.

The entire Osmanthus Island flipped upside down in the air, crashing heavily onto the sea more than ten li away, shaking violently. Then, as if blown by a strong wind, it cut through the waves and advanced rapidly, instantly distancing itself from the Jiaolong Trench.

Then the sword cultivator gently flicked his finger.

Above the Jiaolong Trench, it was as if many gates of heaven had opened.

White sword qi, like waterfalls, poured down one after another.

In the Jiaolong Trench, those flood dragon clan members coiled near the surface first didn't know what the "white flood" pouring into the sea was.

Then, by the time they realized it, they were already skeletons, still in their original postures.

As for the golden sword qi summoned by the golden-robed old flood dragon, it was like a few dead branches facing a bursting flood—washed away in an instant, not a trace left.

Streams of white sword qi in the form of floods continued to flow into the Jiaolong Trench.

But the golden-robed old flood dragon and Chen Ping'an on the solitary boat remained unharmed.

Inside the Jiaolong Trench, sword qi pressed down from above; corpses littered the ground.

The golden-robed old flood dragon stood frozen, his face ashen.

This wasn't "what if"?

Did this count as "ten thousand"?

A Confucian-robed sword cultivator arrived at the edge of the Jiaolong Trench, stepped onto the sea surface, and walked forward slowly. The seawater, invaded by sword qi, instantly boiled and turned into mist, so the sword cultivator still walked on air.

He glanced at Chen Ping'an and said expressionlessly: "Little Qi wanted me to be your protector. I didn't agree. Just like when my master asked me to protect Little Qi back then—I still didn't agree. The path you choose under your feet—what need is there for a protector?"

He looked somewhat helpless, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "But you are half a junior brother to me. I can't deny that. And this time, you dared to take full responsibility for life and death, saying you'd die if you had to. I think that's good—it suits my taste. So I came to see you. My master and Little Qi, one so old, the other not young anymore—if they get bullied, they can only blame their own stubbornness. But you, you're still young. To be bullied like this is inexcusable."

As he spoke these calm words,

white light seeped out bit by bit from more than three hundred energy cavities in the body of the golden-robed old flood dragon. His face twisted in agony, but this old flood dragon, whose combat power was equivalent to the Jade Purity realm, made not a sound from start to finish.

"My sword intent is not as good as A Liang's, but my swordsmanship is a bit higher than his."

The sword cultivator looked at the young man named Chen Ping'an, extended his thumb, first pointed to the sky, then pointed at himself, and laughed: "Oh, by the way, my name is Zuo You. I am your and Little Qi's senior brother."