Chapter 279: Raising a Hand to Kill a Sword Immortal
The bright moon remained hidden, and the sun rose as usual.
It was another new day.
Ning Yao rarely slept so soundly. After waking up, she wiped her mouth, stood up, stretched lazily, and simply rode her sword down from the city wall, heading gracefully toward the northern city.
Although Chen Ping'an had seen many immortal masters soaring through the skies—the earliest being Ning Yao, then Wei Jin of the Wind and Snow Temple, Liu Baqiao, and even more during his time aboard the Kunpeng ship—Ning Yao riding her sword still felt fresh every time he saw it. Of course, he was also envious.
Chen Ping'an returned to the thatched hut for a simple breakfast, then began walking along the northern city wall, from left to right, practicing his stance drills and boxing. He was already so familiar with the path that he could walk it with his eyes closed. Ning Yao had said she might not come to the city wall to see him today, so Chen Ping'an brought some food with him, planning to go a bit farther.
Previously, he had been near the old sword immortal's cultivation site, where sword cultivators were scarce. Chen Ping'an had only met the old man surnamed Qi and the Hidden Officer, who had killed the most middle-five-realm demons in the entire Sword Qi Great Wall. When Chen Ping'an continued his boxing practice toward the right side that day, he saw many more sword cultivators—old and young, male and female. Some were young disciples absorbing sword intent and honing their swordsmanship, often practicing their sword techniques alone or meditating in silence. Others were patrols of sword cultivators moving in groups along the city wall. When they saw Chen Ping'an, who carried a sword case on his back but was practicing boxing, not a single one greeted him. Their gazes were indifferent.
Only then did Chen Ping'an truly understand what the old man surnamed Qi had meant. Here, sword cultivators didn't want to trouble others, and they certainly didn't seek trouble themselves.
At noon, Chen Ping'an sat on the city wall, eating the dried meat and pastries Ning Yao had given him, chewing slowly. In the distance, a group of more than twenty young men and women advanced. Their swordsmanship was sharp and uniform, their movements agile, their sword techniques tricky yet concise, and their sword intent leaned toward killing and gloominess. A middle-aged one-armed sword cultivator moved lightly, following the formation and pointing out corrections. They were likely young disciples of the same clan, training here.
Chen Ping'an didn't dare stare too long, afraid of being mistaken for a reckless fool trying to steal another clan's ancestral sword techniques.
The one-armed sword cultivator glanced at Chen Ping'an, who was eating, thought for a moment, then made a hand gesture. The young sword cultivators cheered and immediately stopped training, sitting down in small groups. A group of men and women who had been following far behind the sword formation quickly took off their bundles and brought out lunch for these young ones, their expressions respectful and matter-of-fact.
Ning Yao had once said that on the Sword Qi Great Wall, hierarchy was strict, and clan lineage and tangible battle merits were highly valued.
Take the Hidden Officer, for example. "Hidden Officer" wasn't a name but a strange official title with a long history that no one could fully explain. In short, the title of "Hidden Officer" was inherited through generations. On the Sword Qi Great Wall, this office oversaw military supervision, judgments, and executions. Many past clan heads had been mediocre, like shadows on the northern side of the Sword Qi Great Wall, often becoming echoes of the major families. But the current Hidden Officer was completely different.
She was widely recognized as the fourth most powerful person on the Sword Qi Great Wall.
During the Thirteen Conflict, the first to step forward was this hot-tempered "little girl." Her opponent, a powerful great demon with extraordinary combat prowess, directly conceded and withdrew, so angry that she spent a full quarter-hour alone on the battlefield, smashing and pounding everything in sight. The Sword Qi Great Wall and the demon race both watched her vent her fury, long accustomed to such behavior.
After hearing Ning Yao roughly describe the beginning and end of the Thirteen Conflict, Chen Ping'an not only remembered the peak combatants on both sides but also the Yin-Yang School's Lu Clan, which was said to have "half the world under one family's teachings."
The order of combat, which was only revealed at the very last moment, might have been another silent yet turbulent battle.
This Hidden Officer had set a good start for humanity, but the Sword Qi Great Wall had collapsed midway, almost falling into disarray. Fortunately, A Liang had emerged out of nowhere to bring it to a proper close.
After finishing his lunch, Chen Ping'an got up and continued practicing his boxing as he moved forward. Along the way, he saw the old man surnamed Qi again, but this time the old man was accompanied by a handsome middle-aged man. The old man's aura was restrained, while the middle-aged man's aura was at its peak, seemingly overshadowing the old man.
Chen Ping'an didn't approach to speak. He simply stopped his stance, lowered his head slightly, and cupped his fists in greeting.
The old man smiled and nodded in acknowledgment, but he didn't exchange pleasantries with this outland youth.
Later, Chen Ping'an encountered two young sword cultivators in their prime drinking wine on the city wall, as well as a one-armed girl standing still on the wall holding a sword—an exceptionally large one.
Whenever Chen Ping'an saw them, he silently jumped down from the city wall, went around them, and only climbed back up to continue his stance drills after he was far enough away.
At dusk, Chen Ping'an also saw several sword cultivators flying up from the southern side of the city wall, crossing the horse track, and riding their swords northward.
Chen Ping'an glanced at the sky, ate a hasty dinner, and turned back.
He didn't return to the small thatched hut until late at night. When he pushed open the door, under the bright moonlight, he saw the Hidden Officer stealing his food. As Chen Ping'an stood still in the doorway, the "little girl" with goat-horn braids slowly turned her head, her cheeks bulging. She showed no guilt whatsoever for being caught thieving. Instead, like a thief crying "catch the thief," she looked at Chen Ping'an with a face full of reproach and caution, as if asking, "Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?"
This wasn't a petty thief breaking into a house; it was a bandit coming down from the mountain to plunder.
Chen Ping'an had no choice but to silently retreat from the hut and close the door behind him.
He was afraid that if they exchanged a single word, this Hidden Officer—renowned for her battle merits and erratic temperament—might just stab him into pieces with one sword strike.
Chen Ping'an went to the northern city wall behind the hut, sat down, and drank some wine.
Suddenly, he heard a clapping sound behind him. He turned to see her putting her hands down, then she pointed toward the hut and strode away.
Was she reminding him that he could go clean up the mess?
Chen Ping'an's head throbbed. To be safe, he stayed where he was until the girl in the large robe was far away, then went back to check the hut. The food Ning Yao had brought was almost completely gone.
Chen Ping'an sighed, tidied up the messy room, returned to the city wall, and began practicing Zheng Dafeng's "Orthodox Sword Techniques."
He still held an imaginary longsword, without a real one, focusing mainly on the opening moves: Avalanche Style and Subdue the God's Head.
Ning Yao didn't come to the city wall to see Chen Ping'an that day.
In the latter half of the night, Chen Ping'an returned to the hut, lay down, and slept peacefully.
The next morning, Chen Ping'an had just gotten up and walked not far from the hut when he saw the Hidden Officer approaching with several young men and women. She strode straight into the hut, but soon came storming out with her goat-horn braids, eyes wide, trying her best to look ferocious. She was probably demanding why there was nothing to steal in the hut today.
The youths behind her, all with impressive auras, looked somewhat gleeful.
Chen Ping'an's face turned awkward, so he feigned ignorance.
If it weren't for the Hidden Officer's title, Chen Ping'an really would have wanted to pinch her cheeks.
This time, the goat-horn braid girl was genuinely a bit angry. The Sword Qi Great Wall beneath her feet trembled with a roar as she, wearing a loose black robe, soared into the sky and vanished in an instant.
Ning Yao arrived at the Sword Qi Great Wall in the afternoon. After hearing Chen Ping'an recount his experience, she smiled and said, "Don't worry. The Hidden Officer is just like that. Countless sword cultivators have suffered under her, but she's actually easy to deal with—like a mule that likes flattery. She loves hearing nice words and receiving pretty things and accepts them all. But after finishing them off, she'll at most crack a smile and never remember the favor. If you get on her bad side, there's a way. Those unlucky ones on the Sword Qi Great Wall, right before she strikes, will simply start playing dead. She thinks killing such trash would dirty her hands, so she usually lets it slide. And she doesn't hold grudges—or maybe she just can't remember those people."
Ning Yao recalled something and said, "I heard from a friend that the Hidden Officer has a pretty good relationship with the person in the small thatched hut. She treats him unusually well. Someone once saw the man surnamed Cao putting the Hidden Officer on his shoulders as he walked along the city wall practicing boxing. That nearly scared the wits out of onlookers."
Chen Ping'an remarked that Cao Ci was truly formidable.
Ning Yao smiled. "I wasn't familiar with him before, but recently I've asked around more about Cao Ci. I've come to a conclusion: the pure martial artists walking the same path as Cao Ci are actually quite miserable, especially those so-called martial arts prodigies."
Ning Yao took the wine gourd from Chen Ping'an, took a sip, and her face flushed. "Compared to cultivators who refine qi, if you don't limit it to one continent but compare across the entire world, it's hard to have a universally recognized 'strongest at the same realm,' because life-bound flying swords, magical treasures, and immortal artifacts—these external things—aren't really external. In many life-and-death battles, it's precisely these that decide the outcome. So luck and fate can change many established facts. But martial artists are different. They don't rely much on these things; in fact, they disdain them. Hence the saying, 'In boxing, there is no second place.' Wins and losses are clear-cut."
Chen Ping'an nodded. He had first encountered the Great Li Prince Song Changjing in Mud Vase Alley, then the old man surnamed Cui who punched from the bamboo tower, and later Zheng Dafeng, who ascended to the heavens after a difficult breakthrough. All of them gave a clear sense of being utterly different from the mountain immortals—that "I fight for first, who dares to contend?" aura of a grandmaster was extremely pronounced.
Ning Yao handed the wine gourd back to Chen Ping'an. "I only said half of my conclusion. You think Cao Ci is formidable, but I think you are even more so."
Chen Ping'an grinned like a fool. Being considered formidable by the girl he loved—what better validation was there?
Ning Yao said seriously, "Because among the martial artists of your generation, there are certainly few who can fight Cao Ci. No one has truly experienced that 'invincible' aura of his. But not only have you fought him, you've fought him three times. After losing all three, you didn't lose in the battle of mindsets against him. That's truly rare."
Ning Yao coughed, sat up straight, and patted Chen Ping'an's shoulder. "This is truly rare. You should maintain it and keep up the good work."
Seeing Ning Yao speak so seriously, Chen Ping'an initially took it to heart, but then he noticed the mischief in her eyes and realized she was imitating Cao Ci to tease him. Chen Ping'an laughed so hard he couldn't close his mouth, even forgetting to drink his wine. "You don't resemble him at all."
Ning Yao rolled her eyes. "And you resemble him, I suppose?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I don't imitate him, and I don't need to."
Ning Yao clicked her tongue, unsure if she was appreciative or teasing.
Chen Ping'an chuckled.
Ning Yao, quick-witted as ever, immediately knew he was mimicking her behavior at the Stork Pavilion Inn. She punched him in the shoulder. "Just drink your wine!"
Chen Ping'an did as told and took a sip, then smiled. "Wow, today's wine seems especially good."
Ning Yao glanced at the sword-nurturing gourd in his hand and suddenly blushed. She punched him again and snapped angrily, "Men are all no good!"
Chen Ping'an held the wine gourd, utterly bewildered.
Ning Yao got up, rode her sword away, but not before turning back to glare at him fiercely.
Chen Ping'an blinked, looking completely innocent.
He scratched his head and continued drinking, racking his brains to figure out how he had ended up being "no good."
Still, he could tell that Ning Yao wasn't truly angry.
She was just… shy.
Chen Ping'an felt that this lingering feeling in his heart wasn't bad—it might even be better than fine wine.
A handsome man, the one who had been beside the old man surnamed Qi, was soaring in the sky above the Sword Qi Great Wall. He happened to witness this scene and smiled to himself. "So he's a clueless fool."
Chen Ping'an finished his wine, tucked the Sword-Nurturing Gourd back in, and stood up to practice the stance of the Sword Furnace.
Moonlight filled his embrace, shining bright on his shoulders. The night passed peacefully.
Just before dawn, Chen Ping'an snapped open his eyes, realizing he had been standing motionless in that stance for half the night.
Chen Ping'an felt a pang of fear. If he had accidentally fallen off the city wall, the Hidden Officer might have been unharmed, but he would certainly have become a bloody paste on the ground below.
Chen Ping'an did some stretches, jumped down from the city wall, went back to the hut to eat the breakfast Ning Yao had prepared the night before, and then resumed his monotonous stance drills, moving to the right along the city wall.
Along the way, he encountered a fat young man with a lecherous grin but fierce killing intent. As usual, he jumped off the wall to go around him. Then he saw a handsome, somewhat effeminate youth standing on the wall, followed by a dark-skinned youth with a scarred face, and finally the one-armed girl with the giant sword. Today, however, a few young women had joined her, treating the wide city wall like a picnic spot, with a piece of fine brocade spread out covered in exquisite snacks.
When Chen Ping'an jumped back onto the horse track from the wall, they all looked at him.
As he passed by them at a distance, they still pointed and whispered about him.
Chen Ping'an's scalp tingled.
In truth, he knew perfectly well that these people were the friends Ning Yao had described—life-and-death comrades who had fought side by side.
This was the second time Chen Ping'an felt embarrassed by the straw sandals on his feet.
The first time had been in the Great Sui capital, when he was afraid of embarrassing Li Baoping and Li Huai, so he had bought a new pair of boots. But because he hadn't gone to the Cliff Academy on East Mountain and had left the capital with the young Cui Chan, he had worn them only briefly before taking them off and switching back to his trusty straw sandals.
Chen Ping'an wished he could have presented himself better. Even if he couldn't match the ethereal elegance of someone like Cao Ci or Cui Chan, who seemed perfectly suited to their attire, he at least wanted to be clean and tidy, like Lin Shouyi, with a hint of scholarly air, even if just temporarily. Maybe add a jade hairpin, keep the Sword-Nurturing Gourd at his waist, and leave the sword case behind…
Chen Ping'an continued forward, sighing inwardly, feeling some regret.
But as he walked, he smiled to himself. He lifted his foot and looked down at the straw sandals. "Old friend, it's not that I'm dissatisfied with you. I'm grateful for your hard work. Look at those companions who died on the journey; I've kept them all, not thrown away a single pair. They're all resting in Shiwu's stomach, enjoying their old age. Hah, according to the books, that's called 'enjoying one's twilight years.' As for having grandchildren to play with—that would be pushing it…"
Chen Ping'an, talking to himself, didn't notice that the people who had come to see who this mysterious stranger was were panicking, dropping off the city wall like dumplings—one by one, they "fell" down on their own. It turned out that Ning Yao was flying on her sword from above the city wall. The fat young man, Dong Heitan, the handsome youth—all fled in panic. The women, suppressing their smiles, hastily packed up their bundles and flew away on their swords.
Chen Ping'an turned and saw Ning Yao riding her sword, suddenly hovering in the sky outside the city wall. Then she slowly flew alongside him, matching the pace of his stance drills.
Ning Yao said helplessly, "Don't mind them."
Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded.
Ning Yao traced a graceful arc in the air on her sword and left behind, "I have things to do. I'll find you tomorrow."
On this round trip, Chen Ping'an returned near the two thatched huts late at night. This time, the old sword immortal was standing on the northern city wall for some reason, as if gazing into the distance at the city without walls. Chen Ping'an hurried over and called out, "Grandpa Chen." The old man withdrew his gaze and nodded, then pointed toward the north. "It's just this many people—maybe not even as many as a prefectural city in the Righteous World. Yet they've held off the demons for so many years. I find it strange myself."
Chen Ping'an didn't know how to respond, so he kept silent.
The old sword immortal turned to smile at Chen Ping'an. "Chen Ping'an, we've gotten along pretty well, haven't we?"
Chen Ping'an nodded.
The old man asked with a smile, "But what if I said that I get along even better with Cao Ci and have higher expectations for him?"
Chen Ping'an still didn't know how to answer.
The old man wasn't in a hurry for an answer. He simply looked into Chen Ping'an's eyes—or rather, into Chen Ping'an's state of mind.
The old man sighed.
This time, this "greatest sword immortal" in A Liang's words even used his sword technique's divine ability, piercing straight into the heart, into the depths of the soul.
So that's how it was.
Originally, this was a good seedling for cultivation. If everything had gone smoothly, with some luck, he might have become an earthly immortal on the Righteous World's side of Inverted Mountain. But he had been shattered early on, broken into pieces like porcelain. Before even having his Longevity Bridge severed, he had already suffered an even greater calamity.
State of mind; mirror of the mind.
The broken pieces of the mirror varied in size. The old man saw the largest pieces, the images they bore, each mirror showing different scenes.
So Chen Ping'an's mental landscape, if seen by a deeply cultivated Confucian sage, would probably seem quite varied—and at the same time, more bizarre.
Thus, the old sword immortal discovered more clues.
To put it bluntly, this was a process akin to raising poisonous insects—not just the weak bowing to the strong, but a complete annihilation.
For years, the youth had probably been desperately trying to piece together the shattered porcelain shards, and he wasn't even aware of it.
To put it more elegantly, it was quite profound—this was the way of heaven: self-reliance, constant self-improvement, the strong growing stronger, until one or two shards grew more and more dazzling, like the sun and moon hanging in the sky, rendering all stars dim.
The struggle of the mind has little to do with cultivation level, so it is extremely dangerous. Qi refiners have many theories and secret methods—things like "self-examination," "knocking at the heart's gate," "the gentleman's three daily self-reflections," and "breaking the demonic obstacles within the heart."
Thus, there are heretical paths and crooked paths, each using many inferior and unrefined visualization techniques to take shortcuts. To the orthodox immortal sects, these are not the true path. In short, the knowledge involved is vast and complex, like mountain ranges rising and falling, peaks high and low.
And Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism are three independent main veins—this is what is meant by "establishing a school and founding a patriarch."
The Military School is a severed mountain range; it came close to succeeding but failed.
The Mohist School, once one of the four major currents, is somewhat similar.
Like great rivers, no matter how long or wide, they never managed to reach the sea, falling just short of becoming a true great stream.
Chen Ping'an never gave an answer.
But the old sword immortal had already obtained his answer.
The old man smiled and said, "Earlier, when you were discussing principles with that girl Ning Yao, I happened to overhear a bit. Would you like to hear an old-timer's opinion?"
Chen Ping'an nodded decisively.
The old man chuckled. "I can tell you a trick: you can both uphold principles and live well, so you won't one day suffocate yourself."
Chen Ping'an's eyes lit up. "Please, senior, speak!"
The old man laughed softly. "Listen closely. You should live like this. You have to tell yourself…"
He paused briefly, then continued, "'I, So-and-so…' For example, I say 'I, Chen Qingdu,' and you would say 'I, Chen Ping'an.'"
At this point, the old man laughed at himself.
Chen Ping'an laughed along with him.
Finally, the old man clasped his hands behind his back, his figure slightly stooped, his gaze calm as he looked at the peaceful city. "In this life, I've upheld principles everywhere, in every matter. I've been principled enough. And yet you turn out like this? Sorry, but this time, I'm not going to reason with you."
Chen Ping'an stood quietly, listening to the old man.
The old man squinted. "Of course, you can't do it too often. Once or twice in a hundred years—that should be fine. Like this."
The old man slowly extended a hand toward the north. It was just a casual gesture, but the enormous night sky above the Sword Qi Great Wall tore like a black curtain. In an instant, brilliant light burst forth. Eventually, a single, extremely thin but dazzlingly bright ray of light descended from the sky, crashing into a certain place in the city. Then, on the ground, countless golden lights exploded and shattered, as if a fifth-realm sword immortal's golden body were crumbling in that moment.
Chen Ping'an's jaw dropped.
The old man chuckled. "Have a drink to steady your nerves."
Chen Ping'an, dumbfounded, took off his wine gourd and handed it to the old sword immortal.
The old man Chen Qingdu, who had meant to tease the boy, didn't take the Sword-Nurturing Gourd. He turned around, shook his head, and walked slowly away, then lightly jumped off the city wall, muttering to himself, "A silly girl found a silly boy. A perfect match."