Chapter 291: Above the Mountain, Below the Mountain
Chen Ping'an asked, "Regarding the turmoil today, did you cast a divination beforehand and already know the outcome?"
Lu Tai raised his hand, paused for a moment, then smoothed the hair at his temples. His gaze shifted, the gesture graceful and somewhat coquettish. He chuckled, "I cast divinations every day; it's a daily lesson for a child of the Yin-Yang School. Otherwise, I would have told you to flee long ago. But this sort of thing—I can't tell you about it. If I do, it won't work."
Chen Ping'an studied Lu Tai. "Don't let it happen again."
Lu Tai curled his lip, unconvinced. "Going with the flow—what's wrong with that? If you don't take advantage of a good deal, heaven and earth will strike you down."
Having said this, Lu Tai flicked his wrist, and a cyan-green jade tablet appeared in his palm. "Ma Wanfa's cun artifact. All his treasures are inside. Compared to that martial artist Dou Zizhi, Ma Wanfa has done quite well for himself. A mere Dragon Gate realm cultivator managing to possess a cun artifact. But do you know what this guy's strongest point is?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head.
Lu Tai snorted with laughter. "Ma Wanfa is a rare 'silkworm breeder,' skilled at unraveling silk from cocoons. That's why he was so covetous of the two of us and gathered such a large group to surround us. Ma Wanfa was confident that after we died, he could extract our cun artifacts. I reckon he didn't expect the two of us to be 'sword immortals.' No need to dwell on my two destined flying swords. But as for yours, that's another matter. Once someone seizes your Sword-nurturing Gourd…"
Chen Ping'an remained silent.
Regarding refining natal objects and dharma treasures into the void, Chen Ping'an had gained some understanding at Inverted Mountain because of the dharma robe Golden Nectar and the refined Ensnaring Demon Rope. A natal object, like a sword cultivator's destined flying sword, vanished when its owner died; even immortals couldn't keep it.
However, ordinary refined objects, though hidden secretly in the qi apertures, might, after death, linger within the soul for a time, not dissipating quickly.
If the quality was extremely high, even if the soul's dwelling place shattered, there was a chance it would "leap out" and return to the mortal world. Countless secret realms born from shattered blessed lands and cave heavens—when immortals' residences had their restrictions broken, high-grade dharma treasures often remained near the remains of those who had undergone bodily or spectral dissolution. This was the reason.
For qi refiners, natal objects were inevitably extremely rare. Refined objects were slightly more numerous, but still countable on one's fingers.
After all, the higher the quality of a spiritual tool or dharma treasure, the harder it was to refine. The consumption of heavenly materials, earthly treasures, time, and energy was enough to deter most cultivators below the Earth Immortal realm.
As for the immortal sword of the Celestial Master Residence on Mount Dragon Tiger in the Central Plains, even the wielder, a Grand Heavenly Master with transcendent Dao arts, could not refine it into a natal object.
Dao Ancestor Number Two's sword was the same.
The Nine Prefectures had many sword immortals, and naturally many immortal swords. But true immortal swords—even combining several worlds—numbered only four.
Only four.
And that had not changed for ten thousand years.
That was why Ruan Qiong of Wind and Snow Temple had sworn to forge a new immortal sword, unprecedented and unequaled.
If people of today were inferior to those of the past in every way, how dull would that be?
As for grand cultivators of the military path, they were called "walking armories" because they could refine more dharma treasures to aid them.
Imagine: a military cultivator, supplemented by secret arts like three heads and six arms, wielding divine weapons, clad in a high-grade Divine Man Dew-Collecting Armor, with a naturally formidable physique—who would dare oppose him?
Military cultivators were famous for being unkillable, and even more famous for easily killing others.
Lu Tai was in an excellent mood. He explained to Chen Ping'an in detail what a "silkworm breeder" was. "Cun artifacts are special. They're different from natal objects and refined objects because, unlike magical tools or flying swords, they resemble a small cave heaven and can't be immediately destroyed. Moreover, cun artifacts are extremely difficult to refine into natal items. So stripping a cun artifact from a qi refiner has become a great art. If you succeed, it's a lucrative business—three years without profit, but one year of profit that lasts three years. In the mountain world, there's a type of person called a 'silkworm breeder.' They have family or sect methods and secret arts to intercept cun artifacts from a qi refiner's soul."
Lu Tai clicked his tongue. "If Ma Wanfa had killed us, he'd have struck it rich. Your Sword-nurturing Gourd plus my cun artifact—maybe he could have just spent his way to becoming a Land Immortal."
Lu Tai suddenly narrowed his eyes and asked with a smile, "Aren't you going to ask how I killed that Dragon Gate realm cultivator?"
Chen Ping'an took a step back. From the Sword-nurturing Gourd, First and Fifth shot out, one on each side protecting Chen Ping'an.
Lu Tai asked curiously, "How did you figure it out?"
Chen Ping'an, expressionless, pointed at Lu Tai's arm.
There was no multicolored rope binding Lu Tai's arm.
Moreover, although this Lu Tai deliberately made some feminine gestures, Chen Ping'an felt it wasn't as natural as usual.
Plus, Lu Tai's deliberate explanation of Ma Wanfa's identity as a silkworm breeder felt like "protesting too much."
However, Chen Ping'an's earlier question about divination had been answered without flaw. That was strange. Could Ma Wanfa also be a heretic cultivator, skilled not only in illusion but also in imprisoning souls?
Lu Tai first wore a cold expression, then suppressed a smile, and finally couldn't hold back, laughing heartily. He pointed a finger at Chen Ping'an. "If it were anyone else, I'd have gone through all this trouble—hiding the multicolored rope, pretending to act awkward, even leaking a bit of killing intent—it would all be like casting pearls before swine. But dealing with you, Chen Ping'an, it's just right. Enough, enough. That sword strike Dou Zizhi hit you with at the heart—hurry up and spit out the stagnant blood, or there'll be aftereffects."
Seeing that Chen Ping'an still didn't believe him at all, Lu Tai nearly laughed himself to tears. He said softly, "Needlepoint and Wheat Awn, come out."
A huge flying sword hung suspended in midair, with a golden "wheat awn tip" beside it.
Chen Ping'an sighed in relief. Once he confirmed Lu Tai's identity, he quickly turned his head and spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground, glaring angrily. "Lu Tai!"
Lu Tai snapped his fingers, and the two destined flying swords, Needlepoint and Wheat Awn, returned to reside in his qi apertures.
A bamboo fan appeared in his hand, gently stirring a cool breeze. He laughed happily, "Who told you to let those small fry escape…"
Chen Ping'an was so angry he wanted to kick him.
But Lu Tai suddenly bent over, covering his mouth with his hand, blood seeping through his fingers.
Chasing a cunning Dragon Gate realm cultivator with a cun artifact wasn't too difficult, but to intercept and kill him—only a Golden Core realm cultivator could do that.
So the price Lu Tai paid was certainly not small.
Chen Ping'an extended two fingers, pinched the corner of the dharma robe Golden Nectar he wore, and pulled slightly, "stripping" the entire Golden Nectar off. He gently tossed it to Lu Tai, who was trembling slightly, and frowned, "Try putting it on. I've removed the restrictions on the robe."
Lu Tai caught the golden robe, and without any visible movement, Golden Nectar instantly wrapped around him.
He slumped to the ground, sat cross-legged, took a deep breath, and wiped his crimson lips with one finger, cursing and grumbling. Yet even then, he didn't seem vulgar. "If I hadn't been trying to stay at peak combat power the whole time, treating pills and nectar like steamed buns and tea, how could I have ended up this ragged? If we split Ma Wanfa's cun artifact fifty-fifty, you'd be making a killing, but I'd be dead broke."
Chen Ping'an crouched beside him, thrusting the sword Foolish Heart into the ground beside him. He said crossly, "Dou Zizhi's sword belongs to me. You can take everything else."
Lu Tai's eyes went wide. Huffing angrily, he said, "But this sword is the most valuable! Even a martial grandmaster at the Qi Refining realm can use it! Dou Zizhi must have pawned everything to get this treasure. He probably went bankrupt, which is why Ma Wanfa could call him in for a robbery."
Chen Ping'an grinned. "That's your problem."
After donning Golden Nectar, Lu Tai's breathing steadied considerably. "Alright, let's do a recap."
"The formation the array master set up was called Mountain-Shifting Array. When you're inside it, your soul's circulation stagnates, like carrying a mountain on your back. It's very effective against qi refiners below the Golden Core realm. Those little banners had low quality, but there were a lot of them, so they're worth some money."
"On my way here, I ran into that unlucky old talisman Daoist. The old geezer was nearly split in half by Needlepoint. Scared out of his wits, he knelt and begged for mercy, crying and sniveling. I told him to hand over all his family treasures, but he refused and fought tooth and nail, so I had to finish him off. Then I had to search the old Daoist's soul for any cun artifacts or refined treasures—that's why I aggravated my injuries."
"Unfortunately, I only got this 'Silk Fish Talismans' manual. The talisman that restrained your two flying swords was the essence of this talisman book, called 'Dry Well Talisman.' Its rank isn't as high as the 'Sword Sheath Talisman' or 'Mountain-Sealing Talisman' I mentioned, but it's still interesting. I'll take it back to the family library; it counts as a merit."
"If you had killed the old Daoist, we'd split the loot half and half, and I wouldn't have worsened my injuries. I spent half my life killing him, and you still want to split fifty-fifty? Tell me, aren't I pissed?"
Chen Ping'an said, "That heretic cultivator was giving up on himself. Earlier, the yin qi here shot into the sky, black smoke rolling. If it weren't for this dharma robe, I might not have stopped it. Otherwise, that castle would have been its victim—dragging innocent people into our trouble for no reason."
Lu Tai raised the jade tablet in his hand. "This cyan-green jade tablet has a rarer material than Grain Rain coins—hard to come by. So it's worth much more than an ordinary cun artifact. The stuff inside isn't very spectacular: a bunch of worldly gold, silver, and treasures, antiques and curios—terrible taste, countless fakes. A few bottles of mediocre pills. All together, excluding the tablet itself, it's worth about ten thousand Snowflake Coins. That's the entire wealth of a Dragon Gate realm cultivator. Tongye Prefecture really can't compare to the Central Plains Prefecture."
Lu Tai's words were full of regret.
And the pride of being a native of the Central Plains Prefecture.
Like some sword cultivators looking down on other qi refiners.
Or people from Beiju Lu Prefecture looking down on Dongbao Ping Prefecture.
Even Chen Ping'an, in that blizzard at the border, when he met that group of kind Da Li cavalry scouts, and the green-clad boy and pink-dressed girl talked about the nearly rotten and weak soldiers of Huangting Kingdom, Chen Ping'an had secretly felt pleased.
Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "Just ten thousand Snowflake Coins?!"
Lu Tai retorted, "Or what?"
Chen Ping'an remembered the Kunpeng ship from Dajiao Mountain in Julu Prefecture. In the past few centuries, the highest-priced dharma treasures had sold for ten to twenty thousand Snowflake Coins.
To those two sisters, it might have been like when Chen Ping'an was a Dragon Kiln apprentice, hearing Liu Xianyang mysteriously say that a big house on Fortune Street was worth several thousand taels of silver.
Back then, Chen Ping'an hadn't even seen silver ingots a few times.
He wondered if, later on, the sisters had seen Grain Rain coins often.
Lu Tai, busy using the spiritual energy in Golden Nectar to heal, didn't notice Chen Ping'an's slight melancholy. He snorted, "In my life-and-death fight with Ma Wanfa, my Multicolored Rope was badly damaged, and another protective treasure was completely destroyed. Not even mentioning the repair cost for the Multicolored Rope—how much do you think the latter was worth?"
Lu Tai blinked. "Counting all the treasures in the cun artifact going to me, plus the odds and ends of the formation banners, I barely break even, with a small profit."
Chen Ping'an said matter-of-factly, "You left out the 'Silk Fish Talismans' manual, which can go into the family library."
Lu Tai had an "epiphany." "Haha, forgot about that."
Chen Ping'an pointed at the cun artifact in his hand. "And this jade tablet. If we really split it fifty-fifty, how much is half a tablet worth? A cun artifact is never cheap, right?"
Lu Tai said indignantly, "Chen Ping'an! I'm this badly injured, and you won't even let me pretend to be poor?"
Chen Ping'an shot back, "I already said you can have everything except this sword. Why are you going around in circles? What's the point?"
Lu Tai sighed. "I just felt like I was taking advantage of you, and that's not very upright. So I wanted to find a way to make a big profit and still feel at ease."
Chen Ping'an didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Are you bored or what?"
Chen Ping'an pulled out the long sword beside him and handed it to Lu Tai, roughly describing the strange feeling after the heart-piercing strike. Lu Tai waved his hand, refusing to take Dou Zizhi's "Foolish Heart" sword. He said bluntly, "I don't need to heft it to know it's just a heretical path."
Chen Ping'an was taken aback. "By the way, what did that man mean by 'hefting'?"
Lu Tai said with a sly grin, "Spend more time in brothels and drink more flower wine, and you'll find out."
Chen Ping'an ignored his teasing. Holding the sword horizontally, he slowly drew it from the scabbard. The blade shone like autumn water, chilling to the bone, as if all the surrounding light had gathered on the sword's body.
Lu Tai explained, "Anyway, it'll sell for a lot of money."
Chen Ping'an nodded. He didn't doubt that.
Song Yushao, the grandson of the Sword Saint of Shushui Kingdom, had once spent nine hundred Snowflake Coins to go to a celestial ferry on the border between two countries to buy a short sword forged on the mountain. It had drained quite a bit from the Song estate's coffers.
Old Senior Song's martial realm wasn't far from Dou Zizhi's.
But as top swordsmen in the martial world, their foundations and sword arts were vastly different.
Still, Song Yushao, as a sword Dao grandmaster who shook the world, had no support—only his sword.
In this respect, Dou Zizhi was the same, putting all his effort into his sword.
Compared to qi refiners who wished they had more treasures, it was like heaven and earth.
As for sword cultivators—neither in the martial world nor in the heavens—they were the most straightforward, seeking to break all laws with a single sword.
Chen Ping'an then asked about the old array master's teleportation technique after smashing the talisman. Lu Tai had seen it for the first time, but not heard of it for the first time. The well-informed Lu scion explained in detail, also telling Chen Ping'an about the coordination between talismans and arrays. Only then did Chen Ping'an learn that "overlapping" two Distance-Spanning Talismans could produce unexpected effects.
The techniques and divine abilities of the mountain world were indeed bizarre and varied.
"Almost done. The injuries are suppressed. I just need to rest and recuperate quietly now."
Lu Tai stood up, also "pinched out" the golden dharma robe, and casually tossed it back to Chen Ping'an. Chen Ping'an only needed to spread his arms, and Golden Nectar, as if being dressed by a maid, put itself on him.
Lu Tai put away the cyan-green jade tablet into his sleeve and said with a smile, "Splitting the spoils on the spot—what's the worst thing?"
He answered himself, "Uneven distribution leading to internal strife. So I calculated. Now I owe you, Chen Ping'an, half of that jade tablet. Converted to Snowflake Coins…"
Lu Tai suddenly groaned, clutching his chest, his face full of misery. "Mentioning this gives me heartache."
Chen Ping'an slapped Lu Tai on the head and said with a playful scold, "Cheeky."
On Fallen Mountain, Wei Bo often did this to the green-clad boy.
Lu Tai paused, but didn't hold it against Chen Ping'an.
"Let me check the surroundings first. No rush to leave."
After Chen Ping'an said this, he leaped onto a high branch and surveyed the area.
Lu Tai looked up, hesitated, then finally mustered the courage to stand on a branch himself, though he kept one hand on the trunk for comfort.
Chen Ping'an held Foolish Heart in one hand, took down the Sword-nurturing Gourd with the other, and took a rare sip of wine. "Lu Tai, I actually know that if we hadn't killed Ma Wanfa, the trouble would have been endless. The rest of the journey would have been very troublesome. A qi refiner dead set on harassment—I experienced that in Shushui Kingdom. So I only need this sword. You don't need to give me extra Snowflake Coins."
Lu Tai was about to speak.
Chen Ping'an turned his head and smiled faintly. "But after knowing you, I increasingly feel that I can't only follow my own reasoning. The worst thing in the world is going to extremes. If your conscience is truly uneasy, I'll take the money."
Lu Tai said nothing. Instead, he leaned against the tree trunk, took out his bronze mirror, examined himself left and right, and began carefully smoothing his sideburns, humming a little tune.
A horse won't get fat without night grass; a man won't get rich without windfall.
Chen Ping'an couldn't stand it. He stopped looking at him, then frowned. "Someone's coming this way."
Lu Tai followed Chen Ping'an's gaze, then went back to primping in the mirror. "Just a bunch of martial mortals. Should be from that castle. You're wearing Golden Nectar—stand still and let them slash you several dozen times, and you'll be fine."
Chen Ping'an said, "Better to avoid trouble. If you're okay to move, let's head north."
Lu Tai hesitated, then asked tentatively, "Can we stop and rest a few days?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Alright."
---
A group of people left the castle and entered the forest, moving nimbly, all with solid martial foundations.
But such solidity was only relative to ordinary martial artists.
At the head was an elegant old man with a blue robe and long beard, his breathing long and his footsteps light—clearly a master of internal arts.
Behind him were two young people, a man and a woman, both around twenty. They wore fine clothes. The man was handsome, the woman gentle. They shared three or four parts resemblance, probably siblings.
The man carried a horn bow on his back. The woman wore embroidered little boots and a delicate snake-shaped gold bracelet on her wrist. Truly a pair of golden boy and jade girl.
Behind them were over a dozen strong attendants, all simply and neatly dressed.
Then, in the forest, they saw two young gentlemen walking toward them. Everyone immediately stopped, gripping their weapons, full of wariness and apprehension.
The old man at the head smiled and cupped his hands. "I am He Ya, steward of Flying Eagle Fort. May I ask, young masters, if you have seen any immortals or demons nearby?"
Lu Tai said with a smile, "What immortals and demons exist in this world? Are you joking, old sir?"
The old man was speechless.
The young woman, seeing Lu Tai—who looked like a banished immortal from the books—brightened, her eyes sparkling.
Her brother was more levelheaded, observing and scrutinizing the two uninvited guests.
Within a hundred li radius of Flying Eagle Fort, there were no scenic wonders to visit—only the most ordinary landscapes. Moreover, of the two roads leading to Flying Eagle Fort, one was wide and the other narrow. At a certain distance from the fort, the broad road became a dead end, specifically to prevent outsiders from following the main route to the secluded fort.
Thirty or forty years ago, Flying Eagle Fort had been a martial overlord in the Agarwood Kingdom. After suffering a calamity, it had retreated from the world, deliberately destroyed the main road, and family members rarely traveled abroad. However, it wasn't completely isolated; there were necessary trade interactions, and occasionally martial artists from old connections came to visit, relax, or spar.
The appearance of these two young men here was strange. Earlier, at the castle, they had witnessed a battle of immortals—awe-inspiring, with rolling black smoke and brilliant lights, and finally a majestic golden dharma body floating in the air, towering above the trees.
Most of Flying Eagle Fort had never seen such sights. They were alarmed and full of talk.
After some discussion, the fort master had sent Steward He Ya to investigate. As for the young pair, they had sneaked out without telling anyone, appearing halfway, much to Steward He Ya's dismay. He had been forced to slow down, deliberately taking a longer route, finally arriving here slowly and finding these two seemingly enjoying the scenery.
He Ya appeared calm, but his nerves were taut. He feared that these two, looking like celestial beings, might suddenly attack.
In Flying Eagle Fort, besides He Ya, who was an old hand in the martial world, even the current fort master, though he had heard of strange matters that were both in and out of the world, didn't feel it deeply if he hadn't seen it himself. He Ya was different. The old steward had traveled the world and visited the "half slope" a few times.
So, under the old man's insistence, Flying Eagle Fort had many rules that the young found baffling. For example, on New Year's Day, Double Ninth Festival, and other holidays, the gates of several important buildings had to be pasted with talisman papers obtained from Taoist temples outside. There were soul-summoning rituals for frightened children: the old man would often burn incense alone at crossroads and set out pastries and fruit plates—outsiders had no idea what this was for.
Also, whenever someone in Flying Eagle Fort died an unnatural death—drowning, sudden illness, etc.—the old man had even more rules: which strong young men carried the coffin, where to bury it, the birth hours of the mourners, who was responsible for which days of vigil, the incense offerings on the seventh day, and so on. It could drive the young people crazy.
Lu Tai first asked the old man if he was from that castle. Upon receiving an affirmative answer, he smiled and said he'd like to stay as a guest, since he'd been sleeping in the wilds recently and it was unbearable.
The old steward hesitated, but the woman with the gold bracelet immediately nodded.
Chen Ping'an shook his head slightly.
This woman was too open-hearted. She really wasn't afraid of inviting wolves into the house?
The old steward looked at the blue-robed young man smiling at him, then suddenly laughed freely. "Guests are guests. Since you've come this way and we've met, Flying Eagle Fort should gladly entertain you."
Lu Tai and Chen Ping'an followed the group toward Flying Eagle Fort, over a dozen li away.
But with winding mountain paths, it was more than a dozen li.
All the way, the woman chatted with Lu Tai. Old Steward He Ya led the way, ears pricked, not missing a single word.
Flying Eagle Fort's surname was Huan.
The woman was Huan Shu, her brother Huan Chang.
According to the Huan family genealogy, they had migrated from the northern Changyi Kingdom six hundred years ago to escape war, settling in the Agarwood Kingdom. Their hall name was Chongying Hall.
Chen Ping'an couldn't understand any of this. Lu Tai could chat about anything. He told the woman that "Huan" was a good surname, citing many sources. Chen Ping'an still didn't understand.
As they neared Flying Eagle Fort, the road beneath them became smooth. Lu Tai looked up and smiled.
At the railing of the tallest tower in the fort, a woman bundled in a fur coat—seeming to fear the cold—stood anxiously looking toward the road. Upon glimpsing her children's figures, she finally relaxed.
But the woman herself didn't know—nor had anyone in Flying Eagle Fort ever seen—that her face was streaming with blood from her seven orifices, a ghastly, steady flow.
Outside the railing, the sun shone brightly. Inside the railing, there was a chill. If one approached the woman and stood nearby for long, they would feel a coolness on their skin, as if immersing in a river.
So the maidservants around her had changed repeatedly over the years. Without exception, they all became sickly. But after leaving the woman, most would recover.
Over time, what was strange became natural.
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