Chapter 278: In Martial Arts There Is No Second, Fists Reach Beyond the Heavens
After finishing the last fight, Cao Ci bid farewell to his master, and the master-disciple pair should have left the Sword Qi Great Wall and returned to the Great Duan Dynasty in the Middle Earth Divine Continent.
Before leaving, Cao Ci said to Chen Ping’an, “Chen Ping’an, before you go back to the Inverted Mountain, could you look after that little thatched hut for me?”
Chen Ping’an wiped the sweat from his forehead and smiled. “No problem.”
This was Cao Ci’s unique kindness.
The white-robed youth and the female Martial God walked farther and farther away along the horse path.
The old Sword Immortal reminded Chen Ping’an, “I’m going to withdraw the small heaven and earth.”
Chen Ping’an nodded, indicating that he was fine.
The old Sword Immortal casually lifted the restrictions of that realm, and sword qi immediately surged forth. Chen Ping’an’s soul and spirit shook, and he was not lightly injured. He could only honestly stand in the Sword Furnace stance and resist it.
After an hour, Chen Ping’an was able to move. He came with Ning Yao to the south-facing section of the city wall. She asked, “Are you alright?”
Chen Ping’an shook his head. “This injury is nothing.”
Ning Yao frowned and pointed at her heart. “I mean here.”
Following the girl’s slender, green-onion-like finger, Chen Ping’an’s gaze lingered without shifting for a long time.
As a result, Ning Yao slapped Chen Ping’an on the head.
Chen Ping’an scratched his head and hurriedly tried to make amends. “In my heart, it’s even more nothing.”
A man’s head and a woman’s waist—one you mustn’t slap, the other you mustn’t touch.
But Chen Ping’an wouldn’t dare say such a thing.
Ning Yao leaned back against the city wall and asked worriedly, “Really nothing?”
Within a single day, Chen Ping’an had lost three times, losing as badly as he could.
The first time was when Chen Ping’an and Cao Ci sparred in fist techniques and combat. Both sides seemed to have an unspoken understanding, very pure, but every time Chen Ping’an threw a punch, it seemed to be just a hair slower than Cao Ci’s.
It wasn’t that Chen Ping’an’s fist techniques were inferior. On the contrary, the old man surnamed Cui’s techniques, like the Divine Being Drumbeating Style and the Cloud-Steaming Great Marsh Style, caused the watching female Martial God to nod several times.
In contrast, Cao Ci appeared far too relaxed and carefree, strolling leisurely, foreseeing the future, anticipating the enemy’s moves. Chen Ping’an’s fists and feet seemed to conveniently land exactly where Cao Ci wanted them to go.
Chen Ping’an never landed a hit on Cao Ci. Not even one.
When both the old Sword Immortal and Ning Yao felt that one match was enough, it was the female Martial God’s turn to smile and suggest another fight, letting Chen Ping’an go all out, not limited to fist techniques.
In the second match, Chen Ping’an used his flying swords First and Fifteen to assist, and even used several types of talismans.
But compared to Cao Ci’s movement technique, he was still a bit slower, neither more nor less, still just a hair’s difference.
This time, even Ning Yao felt helpless for Chen Ping’an.
It was like playing chess. If both were top-tier masters, it wasn’t strange for a strong grandmaster to defeat a weak grandmaster. But if that strong grandmaster won by half a point every time, it probably meant the gap in skill between the two was not ordinary.
The final match was proposed by Chen Ping’an himself, and Cao Ci nodded in agreement.
In the third match, Chen Ping’an began to change.
He no longer seemed to be sparring with Cao Ci, but rather struggling with himself, constantly and forcibly altering the patterns of predetermined fist techniques. Consider this: whether it was the Divine Being Drumbeating Style or the Iron Cavalry Breach Formation Style, they were all “divine moves” that the old man surnamed Cui had refined millions of times. Chen Ping’an’s behavior appeared to be a self-inflicted confusion.
Thus, Cao Ci’s punches were no longer just a hair faster than Chen Ping’an’s. Many times, Cao Ci would disrupt Chen Ping’an’s fist intent at the very start of Chen Ping’an’s punch or midway through the stance, making Chen Ping’an lose even more miserably than in the first two matches.
But the three people present—even Ning Yao, who was outside the martial arts path—ultimately saw that Chen Ping’an’s temporary adjustments were correct in the general direction.
The main gap was still in the foundation of the four realms.
After the third match, Cao Ci gave Chen Ping’an a thumbs up and said only four words: “Keep up the good work.”
If it weren’t Cao Ci, and if it weren’t Chen Ping’an, probably everyone would have thought Cao Ci was provoking, showing off, or looking down on the loser from a superior position.
But Cao Ci’s equanimity and Chen Ping’an’s calm state of mind could not change one fact.
Both being martial artists of the fourth realm, Chen Ping’an was now truly Cao Ci’s defeated opponent.
So Ning Yao, with her “clear sword heart and sharp edge,” asked this question. She was worried that Chen Ping’an had lost a fourth match.
An intangible battle of mindset.
If his martial arts mindset were crushed and shattered by Cao Ci, Chen Ping’an might not even reach the seventh realm in this life, let alone the ultimate realm.
Fortunately, Chen Ping’an said it was fine.
Ning Yao believed him.
Chen Ping’an was not afraid to die. She had known that back in the Pearl Stone Cave Heaven, when he nearly died under the mountain-moving ape’s hand, and when he was ready to trade his life for hers against Ma Kuxuan.
But not fearing death did not mean not fearing defeat.
When he had nothing, a barefoot man didn’t fear those wearing shoes. But when Ning Yao had previously seen a table full of treasures at the Crane Inn of the Inverted Mountain, she realized that Chen Ping’an had become quite wealthy, especially in terms of his promising martial path.
So Ning Yao worried that Chen Ping’an would get stuck in a dead end.
Fortunately, that wasn’t the case.
The two of them sat together on the south-facing battlements, shoulder to shoulder.
Ning Yao placed two swords—one new, one old—stacked on her knees. Chen Ping’an still carried his sword case with only the locust tree sword left.
She actually thought the sword name “Demon-Subduer” was rather vulgar, but when she remembered that Chen Ping’an also carried one called “Evil-Destroyer,” she decided not to argue with him.
Chen Ping’an propped his fists on his knees and leaned forward. Thousands of miles away was the encampment of countless demon armies, swarming like ants. Ning Yao had told him that every time the demon armies attacked the Sword Qi Great Wall, this canyon would be packed with dense hordes of demons, but above their heads, there would likewise be dense hordes of flying swords.
When Chen Ping’an was with Ning Yao, they chatted about whatever came to mind.
From the old Sword Immortal Grandpa Chen, to Cao Ci and the female Martial God and their Great Duan Dynasty in the Middle Earth Divine Continent, to the Great Heavenly Master of Dragon Tiger Mountain who possessed one of the four Immortal Swords. When they talked about the Immortal Swords, it naturally led to the man known as “Dao Second,” who was hailed as truly invincible, because his Immortal Sword was known as “Dao rises one foot above the mortal world.” Then they talked about the Inverted Mountain under Dao Second’s lineage, and finally returned to the Sword Qi Great Wall and Chen Ping’an’s fist techniques.
They rambled on, chatting as they pleased.
Chen Ping’an had never sat in a place with such an open view, and in terms of mindset, even more so.
It felt like he was directly face-to-face with an entire world.
Chen Ping’an couldn’t help but say, “At first, I practiced boxing to stay alive. When I no longer had to worry about my lifespan, I started to think about why I practiced boxing. The first time, I felt that my punches had to be faster, faster than anyone. Later, I felt that my punches didn’t have to be the strongest, but they had to be the most reasonable. So I read books, asked people for knowledge, learned from others how to conduct myself, and asked the people around me to tell me when I was wrong.”
Chen Ping’an took off his Sword Nurturing Gourd, took a sip of wine, and said helplessly, “When I reason with people, in the end, it’s to get them to reason too. It’s not that I think my reasoning must be correct. But unfortunately, on this journey, many people don’t even want to reason.”
“Official robes, surnames, the silver in their pockets, their cultivation levels—probably they find it much easier and less troublesome, thinking these things are enough to explain reason.”
Chen Ping’an suddenly thought of Zuo You, the sword cultivator—that man whose swordsmanship was peerless and invincible in the mortal world.
It seemed that this senior disciple of Teacher Qi, the sword cultivator Zuo You, also didn’t like to reason.
But there was a world of difference between the two. One actively did evil; the other would not offend unless offended, and if someone offended him, that was their bad luck.
So he chose to stay away from the mortal world.
And he once said something to the effect that all cultivators were no longer… human, they were aberrations.
Besides the literal meaning, Chen Ping’an didn’t grasp the deeper significance, but he felt it was a very heavy statement.
Chen Ping’an turned to Ning Yao and smiled. “Of course, if my fist techniques, and later my sword techniques, can be the fastest, even faster—that would be the best!”
Chen Ping’an handed the Sword Nurturing Gourd to Ning Yao, then stood up and began to slowly practice his boxing, coordinating with the Eighteen Pauses that Ah Liang had taught him.
Ah Liang had once said that his Eighteen Pauses were a bit different.
Ning Yao frowned. “Chen Ping’an, you have to practice so many punches every day, and think about all these messy things?!”
“Just thinking casually.”
Chen Ping’an’s face was full of smiles. His punches were relaxed and natural, slow but not lazy—just natural.
Ning Yao turned her head, watching Chen Ping’an whose fist techniques flowed like a babbling stream, and asked, “Have you ever thought that thinking about so much might slow down your martial arts cultivation? That Cao Ci definitely doesn’t think about so much.”
Chen Ping’an kept practicing his punches and laughed. “He is a genius, and definitely the most extraordinary kind. I’m not. I have to think and do more at every step. I am a mundane mortal, and you’ve also called me a muddy-legged commoner, so I must first achieve ‘not wrong’ at every step, then achieve ‘correct,’ ‘very correct,’ and ‘most correct.’ I can’t rush. Back when I was making porcelain, I would sit for an entire afternoon. Only by not making mistakes could a good blank appear. It’s a very simple principle.”
Chen Ping’an habitually added, “Right?”
Ning Yao countered, “Simple?”
Chen Ping’an was a bit puzzled. “Isn’t it simple?”
Ning Yao took a sip of wine from the Sword Nurturing Gourd and answered the question indirectly. “Simple is good.”
Chen Ping’an no longer followed the Mountain-Shaking Fist Manual or the stances taught by the old man surnamed Cui. Instead, he acted on a whim, letting his person follow his punches, his mind free of hindrances.
With pauses and halts, sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
Chen Ping’an was completely immersed in his mind.
My destiny porcelain shattered, my Longevity Bridge broken.
Back then, I practiced boxing just to keep myself alive, and in the end, I still managed to get here and find you.
I, Chen Ping’an, think I am pretty amazing!
Chen Ping’an’s punches grew faster and faster, to the point where his sleeves fluttered and rustled with the breeze.
Back when he sat on that golden arch bridge amidst the sea of clouds, the Immortal Sister had said that he must not disappoint Teacher Qi’s hopes. Because she had chosen him initially because she chose to trust Teacher Qi, and she was willing to take that one-in-ten-thousand chance with him.
With this "one," I am this "one," that is enough!
On the battlement, Chen Ping’an’s fist technique suddenly changed from fast to slow, without any abruptness.
He moved his feet sideways, constantly throwing punches toward that Barren Wasteland World. In an instant, he shifted from slowest to fastest, with the wind howling.
The old man surnamed Cui had once boasted: “I will teach the martial artists of this world that when they see my fist, they will feel the heavens above!”
Chen Ping’an seemed to be answering a question in his heart. As he punched, he laughed out loud and said, “Alright!”
Ning Yao’s mouth opened slightly.
Was this still Chen Ping’an?
For the first time, Ning Yao felt somewhat melancholy. She took a sip of wine, which was full of sadness, and stretched out a hand, complaining, “Chen Ping’an, right now, I can’t beat several of you with one hand.”
Chen Ping’an stopped his punches, crouched down, and smiled. “You hit me, and I won’t fight back.”
Ning Yao rolled her eyes. “Are you even a man? If word of this gets out, whether at the Sword Qi Great Wall or in the Haoran World, people would laugh you to death.”
Chen Ping’an’s gaze was resolute. “If one day you are bullied, no matter what martial realm I am in at the time, that punch of mine will be the fastest!”
Ning Yao pointed south beyond the battlement. “Not afraid of a peak thirteenth-realm great demon?”
Chen Ping’an nodded.
Ning Yao pointed behind him. “Not afraid of the Confucian Temple sages of the Haoran World?”
Chen Ping’an nodded again.
Ning Yao pointed above. “Not afraid of the Dao Ancestor or Buddha Ancestor?”
Chen Ping’an nodded, then said softly, “Ning Yao, don’t die on the battlefield.”
Ning Yao turned her head away, no longer looking at Chen Ping’an. She hugged the Sword Nurturing Gourd and gazed down at the ten-thousand-year battlefield. She nodded, her eyes firm. “I can’t guarantee I won’t die, but I will definitely strive to live.”
Ning Yao suddenly laughed. “Chen Ping’an, then hurry up and become the number one great sword immortal under heaven!”
Chen Ping’an scratched his head. “I can’t guarantee that either, but I will work hard!”
Chen Ping’an came to sit beside Ning Yao.
Shoulder touching shoulder.
Ning Yao felt a little bashful, so she lightly bumped him, as if trying to push him away. Chen Ping’an leaned back each time.
Chen Ping’an’s shoulder swayed back and forth like that.
Finally, the two of them quietly looked south.
One shoulder carried Teacher Qi’s and the Immortal Sister’s hopes.
The other shoulder carried the hopes of the girl he loved.
It wasn’t a scene of willow branches drooping and grass growing, nor a spring day warm with green hills and clear waters.
But Chen Ping’an felt this was good enough, couldn’t be better.
————
Pei Bei and Cao Ci, master and disciple, walked slowly along the battlements. Cao Ci looked back toward the thatched hut and said seriously, “Although his foundation at the third realm still has a considerable gap compared to mine before, I think Chen Ping’an has the hope of following behind me.”
The female Martial God smiled. “That’s quite a high praise.”
Cao Ci asked, “Master, what do you think?”
She gently shook her head. “What I think doesn’t matter. It depends on how you and Chen Ping’an progress in the future—how fast each raises their realm, how solid each realm’s foundation is, and eventually who is higher in martial arts. And of course, who lives longer is of utmost importance.”
Cao Ci nodded and asked, “Master, barring major accidents, about how long can you live?”
Regarding such a life-and-death matter, her tone was calm. “An ordinary tenth-realm martial artist, by minimizing attrition of vital essence and avoiding major battles that leave deep-rooted injuries, can live to about three hundred years. I might have an extra two hundred years. But those extra two hundred years mean I can accomplish many more things.”
Cao Ci sighed. “In the end, Qi Refiners live longer.”
Pei Bei didn’t confirm or deny. She asked, “Any other thoughts on Chen Ping’an?”
Cao Ci shook his head. “No.”
Pei Bei cautioned him. “Before you reach the seventh realm, you may leave the Great Duan Dynasty, but you are absolutely forbidden from going to another province.”
“I understand.”
Cao Ci was still indifferent. For him, the true opponent in martial arts was only himself.
The tall female Martial God of the Middle Earth Divine Continent couldn’t help but laugh. She reached out and tousled Cao Ci’s hair.
Cao Ci said helplessly, “Master, don’t always treat me like a child.”
Before stepping down from the battlement, Pei Bei glanced back at the thatched hut. She quickly withdrew her gaze and smiled.
To be a pure martial artist in the same era as Cao Ci must be quite sorrowful.
Those who respected and admired him would look up to him as if they faced a lofty mountain, forever raising their heads.
Those who envied him would find themselves unable to catch up. Those who hated and opposed him would be consumed by frustration.
Pei Bei was looking forward to her disciple’s ultimate peak.
After all, in martial arts, there is no second!
————
Chen Ping’an had been on the battlements for nearly ten days. That day, Ning Yao came and went, saying that an important guest had arrived at her home and she needed to appear.
Chen Ping’an continued walking his stake along the battlements. After walking more than ten li, he saw a little girl standing ahead, wearing a loose black robe and sporting playful goat-horn braids. She seemed to be dozing? Swaying unsteadily, as if she would fall off the battlement at any moment. Chen Ping’an’s heart jumped with alarm, and he wanted to go help the reckless little girl. But two journeys had matured him considerably. The Country of Colorful Clothing, the Inverted Mountain, and this Sword Qi Great Wall were worlds apart.
So Chen Ping’an just said “Hey” to get her attention. He pretended to ask, in awkward, clumsy Sword Qi Great Wall dialect that Ning Yao had taught him, “Do you know who the old man in the thatched hut is?”
The little girl ignored Chen Ping’an, continuing to swing back and forth on the battlement.
Chen Ping’an stopped at what he considered a reasonable distance and gave her a look. On her young face, there was even a snot bubble. She really was sleeping.
What a carefree heart.
Chen Ping’an figured she was probably a genius sword cultivator.
In an instant, the girl with goat-horn braids lost her balance and fell straight down from the battlement.
Chen Ping’an instinctively moved to grab her ankle.
But a hand pressed down on Chen Ping’an’s shoulder, immobilizing him. He turned to look and saw a white-haired old man standing on his left. The old man had kind eyebrows and a gentle gaze, a tall and slender figure, and a white jade hairpin in his bun. He smiled at Chen Ping’an, “Youngster, from your accent, you’re an outsider, right? A kind heart is a good thing, but on the Sword Qi Great Wall, you must remember one thing: don’t cause trouble for others, and even more so, don’t cause trouble for yourself.”
The old man pointed to where the little girl had fallen. “This Hidden Official doesn’t need saving. She’s the sword cultivator here who, in the past thousand years, has killed the most demons of the middle five realms. If the demon race had a most hated person, the Hidden Official would easily be in the top three. If you so much as touched a corner of her clothing, you’d probably die—unless the old Sword Immortal was willing to fight the Hidden Official over it.”
Chen Ping’an cupped his fists in thanks.
The old man laughed. “My surname is Qi. If you don’t mind, you can call me Grandpa Qi or Senior Qi. Today there’s some unusual movement in the south, and I happened to be patrolling the battlements with a friend. I expect the Hidden Official is also interested, eager for them to start an attack.”
The old man remembered something and added, “Better not call me Grandpa Qi. Just Senior Qi is fine. Otherwise, it feels like taking advantage of the old Sword Immortal’s seniority. That won’t do.”
Just as he finished speaking, a dull rumble came from below the city wall.
Probably the Hidden Official with the goat-horn braids had hit the ground, causing the vibration.
The old man smiled and advised, “Although the old Sword Immortal is keeping watch and the Hidden Official is here, you still need to be careful. War is unpredictable. The demon race might launch the next attack at any time. Alright, you carry on.”
Without taking a step, the old man appeared over ten zhang away on the battlements, and with that light touch, his figure vanished in the blink of an eye.
Chen Ping’an jumped off the battlement and turned back toward the thatched hut.
The old man’s surname was Qi.
The Hidden Official who had killed countless middle-five-realm demons.
Chen Ping’an heard a strange, indescribable sound from the southern land. It wasn’t the kind that pierced the eardrums, but rather a small sound that made one feel nauseous. Chen Ping’an hurried to the edge of the battlements and looked out.
Then, in the boundless canyon outside the city, there appeared something that, from Chen Ping’an’s perspective on the battlement, looked like a person looking down at an earthworm in the mud not far away.
Chen Ping’an could easily imagine that the true size of that earthworm must be terrifying.
Then Chen Ping’an saw, in the direction where the Hidden Official had fallen earlier, a huge burst of bright white light like a pearl rolling toward that great demon.
After that, the canyon churned with dust, as if heaven and earth were being overturned.
About the time it takes to burn one incense stick, the “little girl” in black with goat-horn braids returned to the battlement, not far from Chen Ping’an. She stood on the battlement, opened her mouth wide, and wiggled a tooth with two fingers. In the end, it seemed she couldn’t bear to pull it out. She just spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the horse path and, somewhat angry, swaggered along the battlement, each step shaking the path.
The old Sword Immortal who had built the thatched hut on the battlement to guard the city somehow appeared beside Chen Ping’an. He smiled and explained, “For her, not killing the opponent means she lost, so she’s quite annoyed. At times like this, nobody better bother her, or it’ll be very troublesome. In the past, only Ah Liang was willing to talk to her, adding fuel to the fire and rubbing salt in the wound. He could withstand her beatings. Now that Ah Liang has left the Sword Qi Great Wall, I guess she’s feeling a bit bored. Actually, that unlucky great demon on the other side just came to show its face symbolically.”
The old Sword Immortal led Chen Ping’an toward the thatched hut, and then said, “For certain reasons, you are an exception, so I’ll talk a bit more with you.”
Chen Ping’an nodded, not saying anything.
That night, as darkness fell, Chen Ping’an left the little thatched hut that Cao Ci had built and sat on the north-facing battlement, drinking wine and gazing at the brightly lit giant city.
He looked in the direction of Ning Yao’s house.
But then his left shoulder was tapped. He turned left to see Ning Yao sitting on his right side.
This time when she came up to the battlement, she brought some snacks, which she placed by the thatched hut, and a jar of wine, which she brought over. Chen Ping’an handed her his Sword Nurturing Gourd, and Ning Yao helped pour the wine into it.
When the wine jar was empty, Ning Yao casually tossed it outside the battlement. It wouldn’t make any sound when it hit the ground, after all, it was a small wine jar, not the Hidden Official from earlier.
Ning Yao took a sip and started staring off into space.
Chen Ping’an accompanied her, staring off as well.
Ning Yao said softly, “Whether you reason or not actually has nothing to do with whether a person lives well.”
Ning Yao stretched out her arm, pointing at the city. “Over there, there are some people whose natural talent is too good. As long as they don’t indiscriminately kill innocents within the rules, nobody can do anything about them. On the battlefield south of the city wall, these people are still resounding heroes, their sword qi soaring into the sky, able to break through the demon armies with an invincible posture. Even those who resent them have to admit, with them and without them, the difference is huge.”
Ning Yao shook the wine jug. “I’ve traveled to many places in the Haoran World and seen all kinds of people. Some are just born into a good family, enjoy a lifetime of wealth and honor, without worries, and spend every day complaining that life is boring, whining that they are too miserable.”
She returned the Sword Nurturing Gourd to Chen Ping’an and asked, “It’s all bullshit and pretty boring, isn’t it?”
Chen Ping’an thought for a moment. “It’s okay. How others live has its own reasons. If it doesn’t suit our mind, it isn’t necessarily wrong. As long as it’s not that those who like to reason inevitably live poorly, I think it’s fine.”
Ning Yao said sourly, “Unfortunately, they do end up living pretty poorly.”
“Huh?”
Chen Ping’an started to seriously think about this question.
Ning Yao turned to look at the pondering Chen Ping’an and couldn’t help but laugh. “I was just making that up. Did you actually fall for it?”
Chen Ping’an took a sip of wine. “Troubled?”
Ning Yao nodded. “Someone wants to buy my family’s Dragon-Slaying Platform, and I don’t want to sell. So they offered a sky-high price, talked about reason and righteousness, talked about generations of friendship—talked about everything, and it got a bit annoying.”
Chen Ping’an didn’t say any words of comfort; he just gently took Ning Yao’s hand.
Ning Yao laughed for no reason. “But when I think about how miserable you were as a child, hungry, crying with snot and tears in the Mud Bottle Lane, I feel like none of this is a big deal.”
Chen Ping’an smiled and looked into the distance. The breeze brushed his face, no longer cutting like a knife to the bone as it had at first. It was just like the gentle breezes of his hometown forests. He said softly, “Is that so.”
Nothing else was said that night. Finally, Ning Yao leaned against Chen Ping’an’s shoulder and slept peacefully until dawn.
Chen Ping’an remained motionless, keeping watch in the quiet night.
He had once seen a very moving line of poetry.
It was carved on a clay statue in the Immortal’s Tomb of his hometown, by some unknown person.
Chen Ping’an hoped it was someone, anyone—just not Ma Kuxuan from Apricot Flower Lane.
“Since childhood, I have been alone, taking care of the stars of all generations.”