Chapter 325: The Green Hills So Alluring

Chapter 325: The Green Hills So Alluring

Chen Ping'an learned and applied on the spot, picking up the old general Lü Xiao's knack for playing dumb and feigning ignorance. He pretended not to hear the sarcasm in the old Daoist's words. By the time Chen Ping'an had finished his wine, the old Daoist had already vanished from the small courtyard.

The old Daoist was always appearing and disappearing like a ghost, and Chen Ping'an could do nothing about it.

As the sky was just beginning to lighten, the gaunt little girl who had been sleeping leaning against the firewood door woke up. She saw the wealthy man in white robes walking in the courtyard, eyes closed like a blind man. One hand was open, palm facing up, resting on his abdomen, while the other hand was clenched into a fist at his chest. His steps were small, his pace slow.

It looked like he was hesitating whether to punch his palm. She watched listlessly, feeling certain he would eventually smash his fist down.

If only his eyes were truly blind, she thought. Then he'd punch down, and *smack*—accidentally punch straight through his own hand. That would be even better.

The thought amused the gaunt little girl. Fearing he might see through her, she quickly put on a stern face and deliberately yawned.

Chen Ping'an opened his eyes and dropped the strange posture. He had learned it by imitating Ding Ying. He had brought it out today because he recalled that the blind old Daoist with the two apprentices, who had encountered the bride in red that year, had practiced a Thunder Method that required heavy punches to strike the qi apertures—somewhat similar to Ding Ying.

Chen Ping'an didn't look at the little girl, nor did he stop walking. He continued to immerse his fist intent into the Peak Grand Posture that Zhong Qiu had realized. "Go see whether Cao Qinglang's school has opened yet. If the master still hasn't resumed teaching, ask the neighbors when classes will start."

The little girl haggled, "Can I go after breakfast? I'm hungry, I can't walk."

Chen Ping'an said calmly, "Come back first, then fill the water vat in the kitchen with water from the well. Then you can eat."

The little girl stared at Chen Ping'an's profile. Seeing he wasn't joking, she said "Oh," deliberately wobbling as she stood up, sticking close to the wall to circle around him, and left the courtyard. After leaving the alley, she crouched at the street corner for a long time, then sprinted all the way back to the courtyard gate. Her forehead was already sweaty. She bent over, hands on her hips, and gasped loudly to the still-walking man, "It's not open yet! I asked an auntie—she said that master was scared out of his wits by the earlier fight and won't open for a while."

Chen Ping'an said nothing, just pointed at the kitchen.

The little girl made a mournful face, went to the kitchen, picked up the smallest bucket. Fortunately, the water vat was still more than half full of well water. If it had been empty, she wouldn't have gone even once. As she walked out the door, she almost dropped the bucket and ran. At the courtyard gate, she heard Cao Qinglang reciting texts. With her back to the courtyard, she rolled her eyes, bared her teeth in disdain.

Carrying water was exhausting.

When she returned to the courtyard carrying the bucket with both hands, she still stuck close to the wall, carefully circled around that person, and scurried into the kitchen. At the well, she drew less than half a bucket, found it too heavy on the way back, and spilled most of it. By the time she got back to the courtyard, there was barely an inch of water at the bottom. She quickly glanced back—not seeing him—immediately lifted the bucket, quietly scooped half a bucket of water from the vat, then heaved the bucket up and tipped it with a splash into the vat.

Chen Ping'an saw through all this clearly, but he didn't expose her on the spot.

She would rather go through all this trouble to be lazy than put in a bit of effort?

After Cao Qinglang finished reciting several passages from elementary books, he went to the kitchen to cook. Chen Ping'an told him he might be back very late. Cao Qinglang nodded.

Chen Ping'an left the alley. Passing near Number One Scholar Alley, the residence where Ding Ying and the Magic Cult's Ya'er had stayed was now deathly silent, clearly abandoned. The incense at Xinxiang Temple was growing sparser. As for the martial arts school's morning practice, they were training even harder than before, with shouts rising and falling. The old master teaching boxing had an especially loud voice, presumably because the recent great battle had both frightened the commoners into feeling the world was unsafe and inspired the young martial artists. If there weren't some big storms, could it still be called the martial world?

Chen Ping'an hadn't worn the Jin Li this time either. He was in a brand new blue long robe. First, the little lotus person hadn't recovered yet and still needed the dharma robe that was like a small cave paradise. Second, Chen Ping'an didn't want to show off. He even left the Sword-Nurturing Gourd at home, letting the First and Fifteenth protect the injured little lotus person. He only had the longsword Chi Xin and the narrow saber Ting Xue at his waist. This made him look like a wandering knight who enjoyed wielding blades and swords.

Chen Ping'an was going to find Zhong Qiu, to trouble this Nanyuan Kingdom's National Preceptor with one more matter.

As for that big stack of books the little girl had stolen from the house—they were all ordinary books, since the two "immortal books" bought at Daoxuan Mountain were kept in his storage item. But Chen Ping'an still wanted them back because on the title page of each book, he had written in neat small regular script where and when he bought it. These books collected from various places held special meaning for him.

It had nothing to do with the Confucian sage's saying about "houses of gold in books" or "faces of jade in books."

Everyone knew that Zhong Qiu lived near the imperial palace, but few knew his exact secluded location. Fortunately, Chen Ping'an was now so famous in Nanyuan that soon a martial expert recruited by the Nanyuan court appeared and respectfully led Chen Ping'an to Zhong Qiu's residence. It was a house in Chongxian Ward that was peaceful despite being in a bustling area. Chongxian Ward was truly at the foot of the Son of Heaven—households there were either wealthy or noble. The streets and alleys were shaded by thick greenery, tranquil and serene, exuding an air of grace and strict order, completely different from the roosters crowing, dogs barking, and orioles twittering around Number One Scholar Alley.

The mansion had no plaque and was not large by Chongxian Ward standards—just a three-courtyard compound.

After thanking the guide, Chen Ping'an entered alone. He found it wasn't quiet inside. Many young faces in official robes were busy. According to Nanyuan's court dress code, their ranks were low—barely entry-level officials. Every room was full of people. Young men carrying documents and moving between rooms mostly hurried along; occasionally they walked shoulder to shoulder, chatting about business. When they saw Chen Ping'an with his saber and sword, they just glanced at him without paying much attention.

Zhong Qiu stood under the eaves of the main courtyard, smiling as he welcomed Chen Ping'an. Beside him was a young official reporting government affairs. Zhong Qiu gave brief answers and suggestions, and after a concise exchange, the young official, clearly curious about Chen Ping'an but not daring to pry since the National Preceptor hadn't revealed his identity, took his leave.

Zhong Qiu led Chen Ping'an to the back courtyard. It was different from the bustling atmosphere in front—just beyond a wall, a different world opened up. In the corner was a large clump of plantains, so green they seemed ready to drip. On a stone table sat an old chessboard and a chess box. This should be the National Preceptor's living quarters—neither shabby nor luxurious, but elegant and simple. Zhong Qiu and Chen Ping'an sat facing each other at the stone table.

Zhong Qiu said that officials from the Ministry of Works were already collecting and organizing books on bridges. As for the intelligence dossier on that Jiang surnamed scholar, it should be delivered to Chen Ping'an tonight.

Chen Ping'an felt a bit embarrassed and mentioned the books that had been stolen and sold cheaply. Zhong Qiu smiled and agreed to handle it.

Chen Ping'an then proactively offered that since the capital was in turmoil, he was troubling the National Preceptor with so many trivial matters, and he was willing to do something in return—the National Preceptor only needed to ask.

Zhong Qiu didn't stand on ceremony and asked Chen Ping'an to help guide his two direct disciples.

It wasn't a matter of using public office for private gain. Zhong Qiu's disciples, after completing their training, would all join the military, starting as common soldiers, serving at least ten years in the border armies. After ten years, whether they advanced in the military through the ranks or left the border forces to roam the martial world, Zhong Qiu would no longer restrict them. But if they chose to wander the martial world, they were forbidden from claiming to be Zhong Qiu's disciples. If discovered, there was no negotiation—"I can teach you martial arts, and I can take them all back."

The two indoor disciples staying with Zhong Qiu were both young, not yet graduated. They had excellent talent and high pride, and their character was certainly good, but they had never truly walked the martial world. So they needed someone to temper their sharpness. In recent years, Zhong Qiu had been under considerable pressure, dealing with the sixty-year covenant and particularly guarding against Ding Ying and Yu Zhenyi, making it hard to focus on teaching his disciples martial arts. Zhong Qiu worried that these two disciples, on whom he had placed great hopes, would remain merely "Zhong Qiu's disciples" for their entire lives.

Chen Ping'an certainly had no objection, though he didn't feel he was qualified to teach others anything.

But Chen Ping'an hadn't expected Zhong Qiu to personally take him to meet the two disciples. He couldn't help asking, "Won't this delay the National Preceptor's affairs?"

Zhong Qiu laughed. "If things fall into chaos when I'm not around, then all my years in the Nanyuan court have been wasted—I've only been meddling and pointing fingers..."

Having said this, as he led Chen Ping'an out through a back gate, Zhong Qiu suddenly asked, "If a chief minister encounters a quarrel or fight among passersby on the road, how should he handle it?"

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment. "If it doesn't interfere with his proper duties, he should still intervene."

Zhong Qiu asked, "And then?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head.

Zhong Qiu smiled. "That official with the highest hat, according to what you said, can indeed handle such trivial matters as long as it doesn't hinder his core duties. But the most important thing is that he should immediately reflect—why, within his jurisdiction, are there altercations and brawls in the streets?"

After pondering this, Chen Ping'an deeply agreed.

Zhong Qiu and Chen Ping'an walked along a quiet street. The shade was deep; in midsummer, many wards of the capital were like steam ovens, with no escape from the heat, but here it was pleasantly cool for pedestrians. Zhong Qiu sighed. "This originally comes from an anecdote in the sage's books. That chief minister said to those around him that this matter was not for him to handle—he should hold the directly responsible official accountable. He should not overstep his authority. When I first read this as a youth, it struck me as profoundly insightful and eye-opening. But the more I read and the more I observed human affairs, the more doubts I harbored, unable to understand despite much thought."

Zhong Qiu didn't continue.

Chen Ping'an didn't speak either, just thinking that if Master Qi or the Sage of Literary Glory were here, they could certainly resolve Zhong Qiu's doubts and clarify those principles.

Zhong Qiu laughed heartily, his melancholy dispelled, and turned to business. "Yu Zhenyi has already returned to his sect in Songlai Kingdom, taking with him Cheng Yuanshan, the Arm Saint, who had left the city secretly. That night on the city wall, apart from Zhou Fei, Magic Cult Ya'er, and Liu Zong ascending and leaving, we who came down all gained something. Yu Zhenyi seemed to have found a golden jade register; the monk Yun Ni got a section of white jade lotus root; Tang Tieyi's gain wasn't found by our capital spies; and I got a book of Five Sacred Mountains atlas. What it describes are all immortal matters—how to canonize the Five Sacred Mountains and gather the spiritual energy of a kingdom's lands. But since I don't practice Daoist arts or immortal techniques, this book is meaningless to me, completely worthless."

Zhong Qiu sighed again. "Cheng Yuanshan, because he hid inside the city and missed the drum sounds, ended up empty-handed. His disciples have already been expelled. But if Cheng Yuanshan himself had been slower to flee, I would have kept him here. That man holds grudges and will surely incite the prairie cavalry to raid and plunder southward after suffering such a loss in Nanyuan's capital."

As for this immortal book, it remained a hidden danger—Zhong Qiu couldn't destroy it and had to hide it carefully.

Once Yu Zhenyi learned of this, he would be determined to get it.

It might even make Yu Zhenyi, who had never cared about worldly affairs, first develop ambitions to set up puppets and contend for the realm, all to canonize the Five Sacred Mountains as the legitimate ruler of the world. Then he could absorb their spiritual energy and become a true land-bound immortal.

Zhong Qiu continued telling Chen Ping'an about the overall situation. "That woman Daoist Huang Ting, who fought Yu Zhenyi to a draw, has transferred the position of Mirror Heart Residence sect leader to the Empress. Huang Ting herself has left the capital, whereabouts unknown, saying only that she wants to find a good place to practice swordsmanship. Empress Zhou Shuzhen will soon 'die of illness' and go to sit in the Mirror Heart Pavilion. His Majesty the Emperor is powerless to stop this. Over at Respectful Gazing Tower, there's been a rebellion colluding with remnants of the three Magic Cult branches. Zhou Shuzhen has completely lost control. The Respectful Gazing Tower has declared to the martial world that it will no longer rank the top ten figures. That Northern Jin general, Tang Tieyi, is still hesitating about whether to defect to our Nanyuan Kingdom."

Chen Ping'an listened intently.

Zhong Qiu lamented, "If only you were in that position, instead of Ding Ying, who was solely focused on contending with the Heavenly Way—how wonderful that would be."

Chen Ping'an was puzzled.

Zhong Qiu smiled. "Anyway, it's a compliment. Don't take it too seriously."

Chen Ping'an laughed.

Not the kind of polite laughter he'd used to entertain Emperor Wei Liang at the tavern that night.

Being with Zhong Qiu felt like entering a room full of orchids.

The residence of Zhong Qiu's two disciples was two wards away. The property was quite large, bearing the name of a martial arts school that wasn't open to the public. It had been funded by Zhong Qiu's senior disciple, who had spent twenty years in the military, rising to general before being severely wounded in battle and retiring from the border forces. Whenever Zhong Qiu's disciples came to the capital, not daring to disturb their master, they would gather here. The ages of these disciples varied widely—the oldest was nearly fifty, while the two youngest were just fifteen or sixteen, a boy and a girl.

When they reached the training grounds, Zhong Qiu chuckled. There were over a dozen people bustling about, including Lü Xiao's grandchildren and friends that the two disciples had made in the capital. Mostly they were children from wealthy or noble families in the capital with good character and dreams of the martial world. Several had already arranged to use the excuse of traveling abroad for study to roam the martial world with Zhong Qiu's disciples.

Zhong Qiu didn't interfere with any of this.

The beauty of youth, even tinged with naivety, should not be dismissed outright with the experience of the elderly, much less arbitrarily crushed.

Watching these children, sometimes Zhong Qiu would be annoyed by their mischievousness, but more often he found them endearing. And so he would feel that this world wasn't just some Lotus Flower Blessed Land, without any exiled immortals.

Chen Ping'an was a bit surprised to find a familiar face among them.

It was the young woman he had seen earlier when wandering the capital—the one who had galloped her horse down the street with a companion. To make up for her friend's mistake, she had tossed a money pouch to an old stall keeper. To show off her riding skills, she had taken a hard fall, climbed back on the horse with oohs and aahs, covered in mud, yet still holding her head high, brimming with spirit. At the time, Chen Ping'an had given her a thumbs-up, but she had ignored him and rolled her eyes.

No one recognized Chen Ping'an at first.

After all, he wasn't wearing white robes or carrying the vermillion wine gourd.

But these young people all respected and feared National Preceptor Zhong Qiu. When Zhong Qiu appeared, they fell silent. His two disciples also felt guilty—they had indeed been slacking in their martial arts these past days. They couldn't help it—their friends had come flooding in, eyes sparkling as they recounted the deeds of the white-robed sword immortal. They all said that the young grandmaster who had killed Old Devil Ding was on excellent terms with their master, and maybe if they waited here, they might actually run into him. Lü Xiao's grandchildren were especially adamant, swearing that when Grandpa came home, his face was glowing. He said that on the night Yu Zhenyi and Mirror Heart Residence's Tong Qingqing fought outside the city, the sword immortal named Chen Ping'an had stood right beside him. They had regretted not meeting sooner, arm in arm, laughing freely—already friends despite the age gap. A pity that Sword Immortal Chen was an immortal among men, very busy, but had promised to visit the General's Mansion whenever he had time.

Lü Xiao's younger grandson, just twelve or thirteen, repeated this story almost daily, his face beaming with pride.

His sister, though not so repetitive, also had anticipation and admiration written all over her features.

Zhong Qiu turned to Chen Ping'an, who nodded.

Standing on the training ground, Zhong Qiu said to his two disciples, "I've found a senior for you. He'll teach you boxing. Strike with all your strength."

Chen Ping'an was a bit troubled and whispered, "Didn't we agree it would just be sparring, no teaching?"

Zhong Qiu smiled slightly. "Just a few words at the end will do. These two little ones have long since figured out how to handle me. Whatever I say now doesn't carry much weight. They might actually take an outsider's words as gospel."

A tall, spirited young man strode over and asked, "Master, who is this senior? Carrying both a saber and a sword—why is he qualified to teach us boxing? Is his boxing better than yours?"

The young man looked at Chen Ping'an with clear eyes and laughed. "Senior, don't think I'm looking down on you—it's just that my master's boxing is too high. If you were teaching swordsmanship, I wouldn't say that. By the way, I'm Yan Shijing. I speak bluntly—hope you don't mind!"

A girl walked slowly behind him. She was already looking for Chen Ping'an's weaknesses, but the more she looked, the slower she walked. She was shocked to find that he was just standing casually, and she couldn't find a single flaw in his standing posture. This uncomfortable feeling was too similar to what she felt with Master Zhong Qiu.

Seeing a high mountain without seeing its peak; approaching a river without seeing its bottom.

This young man in blue robes must certainly be a martial grandmaster of considerable realm!

The girl was about to warn Senior Brother Yan Shijing to be careful, but he had already spoken softly, "I've already seen it. I'm not stupid. How many people in Nanyuan are on that level, walking shoulder to shoulder with our master?"

The girl asked, "Fight together?"

Without any hesitation, the young man said firmly, "Let's try to last ten rounds. Master's watching."

Almost simultaneously, they assumed a fighting stance, poised to strike.

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment and began to walk forward. Just the six-step stance walking combined with Zhong Qiu's Peak Grand Posture.

Just as the two were about to charge, Chen Ping'an took one step. It was like a mountain pressing down on their shoulders—their bodies couldn't move, as if any movement would mean death.

Another step, and both mind and body were frozen. The spirited young man gritted his teeth to charge forward, while the girl wanted to sidestep, to avoid the edge and then plan.

After three casual steps from Chen Ping'an, the siblings' momentum had completely collapsed.

After four steps, they staggered back, drenched in sweat, faces pale.

Chen Ping'an stopped and asked, "You knew that punching wouldn't kill you. So why didn't you punch? If one day you truly risk your life, knowing it's death, can you still not throw a single punch? Then can you only punch when facing evenly matched opponents or weaker enemies?"

The young man plopped down on the ground.

The girl fumed, "Senior, you're a top grandmaster. Coming in with pure force like this—where in the world is there such sparring, such teaching of boxing..."

Chen Ping'an still asked, "Why not a single punch?"

The young man lowered his head.

The girl's eyes reddened—she was actually crying, but she tried to glare fiercely at this bullying stranger.

Chen Ping'an realized he might have been too harsh. He turned to Zhong Qiu and said apologetically, "I rarely spar with people. I don't know the proper martial world etiquette very well."

Zhong Qiu shook his head, lost in thought, then said softly, "When I taught them boxing, because I was afraid of them making mistakes, I followed the principle of 'Don't strike with superiority' too strictly. My original intention was to keep them from fighting over pride in the martial world, not to bully others with force, and to always know their limits. More than that, I thought about them joining the battlefield, serving the country for at least ten years. So I've been suppressing their spirits. It seems that can't be called wrong, but after all, it stifles the possibility that the student might surpass the master."

Zhong Qiu sighed and smiled at Chen Ping'an. "I need to change."

Unexpectedly, the young man could barely endure being humiliated by an outsider, but could not bear to hear his master—whom he regarded as a father—"admit fault," especially for their sake. In Yan Shijing's heart, Master Zhong Qiu was the true, flawless martial grandmaster of the world, and also a sage of letters.

Enraged, the young man sprang up. But instead of attacking the man in blue, he glared at him and said, "Try again!"

Chen Ping'an took a step forward—not the "slow" stance-walking this time, but a punch aimed at Yan Shijing's forehead, like thunder and wind rushing at his face.

The young man took another step back.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Where's your punch?"

The young man looked blank, utterly lost.

Chen Ping'an sighed, turned to Zhong Qiu and said, "Someone once told me that practicing boxing seems like training the body, to become a pure martial artist, but training the mind is really important. Once you practice boxing, you can no longer talk about ordinary human sentiments. Like when you said 'Don't strike with superiority'—I thought it over, and it makes a lot of sense. But that's what someone of your realm and cultivation should do. It's only a principle your disciples should understand. Understanding the principle is one thing; what to do in the moment is another. Only then can they punch anyone without guilt in the future."

Zhong Qiu smiled and nodded. "That's exactly right."

He had a general understanding of Chen Ping'an's temperament. Whether big or small, Chen Ping'an pursued perfection in everything he did. So even though Chen Ping'an had been genuinely uneasy about how to spar and teach boxing principles, once he took that first step, he brought the same seriousness he'd had in the street battle against the encirclement. Zhong Qiu, as an observer, saw it clearly—Chen Ping'an himself might not know just how confident he was at that moment!

There was even a kind of arrogance: "When I punch, all martial artists under heaven need only look up and sigh that the blue sky is above."

Zhong Qiu was actually curious how Chen Ping'an, so approachable in daily life, could achieve such a state of mind when throwing a punch. And he was even more curious about how Chen Ping'an actually trained.

Regardless of which Chen Ping'an it was, Zhong Qiu gave him his respect.

Chen Ping'an was a bit embarrassed. "I was just thinking randomly—it might not suit your disciples."

Zhong Qiu shook his head seriously. "Some truths apply everywhere. What you just said fits all martial artists."

Chen Ping'an, afraid that the young man and girl might have their martial hearts cracked like a mirror, carefully chose his words. Though not good at it, he tried to comfort them. "People who practice boxing, besides enduring hardship, need to have a settled heart. Only then can they punch fast and calmly, charging ahead without looking back. Then one day, whether facing me, your master who is the best under heaven, or someone like Ding Ying who seems invincible, you can punch very fast—fastest."

Chen Ping'an looked seriously at the two. "No one in front of you, just your fists!"

The young man and girl were confused and dazed, but their grief and fear had lessened.

Zhong Qiu nodded lightly.

This wasn't teaching boxing—it was pointing out a "martial path" itself.

As for how far these two foolish children could go, or whether they could even set foot on this martial path up the mountain, that depended on talent and opportunity. Zhong Qiu said little more—in fact, saying anything was useless.

Having withdrawn his fist, Chen Ping'an lost all that imposing aura. Looking at the pitiful young pair, he felt anxious and asked Zhong Qiu, "Was I too grand and vague?"

Zhong Qiu teased, "That's enough, alright? How many flattering words do you want from me today before you're satisfied?"

Chen Ping'an didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Zhong Qiu turned to the two disciples—they wouldn't get such kind treatment. "No training today. Think carefully about why you didn't throw a punch. Once you understand, then train."

The young man and girl saluted and accepted the order.

Zhong Qiu and Chen Ping'an left together.

After the National Preceptor and that strange man had gone, the young people immediately began chattering. Most were consoling Yan Shijing and the girl, mixed with sighs of amazement. These outsiders all knew that National Preceptor Zhong was the best under heaven, but none of them had ever actually seen Zhong Qiu throw a punch. Their families all had substantial martial arts experts as guards, but their standards were high. Today, having seen that man strike—just one punch—they still felt it was worthwhile.

Yan Shijing left the crowd first. The young man's spirits were low as he crouched on the steps, dazed.

After chatting with her friends, the girl sat beside her junior senior brother Yan Shijing and defended him indignantly. "What's so great about him? In the end, he was just relying on his high skill to boss us around. So annoying, and in front of Master no less."

Yan Shijing looked into the distance. "I think what he said made a lot of sense. Master agreed too."

The girl said resentfully, "I don't believe he would dare boast like that against our master, Yu Zhenyi, or Old Devil Ding. Easy for him to say—'just punch.'"

Yan Shijing clenched his fists. "From now on, I won't slack off. I'm going to train hard, and every day I'll beg Master to teach me higher boxing. One day, I'll make him take back everything he said today!"

The girl's eyes sparkled as she gazed at her junior senior brother's profile. "You definitely can! Senior brother said your talent is closest to Master's among all of us. If you'd trained five more years, you could already compete with Mirror Heart Residence's Fan Wan'er or Spring Tide Palace's Hairpin Flower Boy Zhou Shi."

On the rooftop, Zhong Qiu sat with Chen Ping'an, who had secretly returned. Chen Ping'an had suggested they come back quietly and sit here listening to the children's nonsense.

But after hearing Yan Shijing's and the girl's exchange to the end, Zhong Qiu still couldn't guess Chen Ping'an's intention. The National Preceptor felt some regret and disappointment, but not too much toward the children.

Chen Ping'an stood up with a smile and truly left with Zhong Qiu.

On the way back, he consulted Zhong Qiu about many martial arts principles of this world, benefiting greatly.

They parted halfway. Chen Ping'an picked a roadside tavern, ordered a jug of wine and two small dishes to go with it—the most expensive kind the tavern had.

The old Daoist appeared out of nowhere, sitting opposite Chen Ping'an. No one in the bustling tavern noticed anything amiss. A wine bowl appeared before the old Daoist; wine poured itself from the jug into the bowl. When he reached out, chopsticks appeared in his hand. He picked up a piece of scallion-scrambled eggs, ate with relish, and laughed. "So now you know—all those things you took for granted, thinking you were just an ordinary person and that most people could reach where you are today if they worked hard enough. Found out how ridiculous that is?"

Chen Ping'an asked, "So free, Senior?"

The old Daoist answered as irrelevantly as Chen Ping'an, "Then you really look down on the people who taught you principles and boxing techniques. If you keep walking down that path you've been on, sooner or later you'll end up in the same situation as that person—looking around in confusion, utterly alone, unwilling to ask for help, afraid of dragging others into it. Haha, you might still manage to 'die a worthy death.'"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "If I weren't good enough, I wouldn't be sitting here drinking leisurely with you, Senior. I'd be dead here, dying unaccountably. Even if by some chance I reawakened in the next life, after leaving Lotus Flower Blessed Land, no matter what the outside world had become, I would desperately want to fight you to the death."

The old Daoist drank his wine and ate his snacks, saying casually, "Of course. Since you entered Lotus Flower Blessed Land, if your skills were lacking and you died at Lu Fang's or Ding Ying's hands, unless Chen Qingdu and the Old Scholar joined forces, I'd pinch my nose and let you make a move. Otherwise, you'd just have to stay here and reincarnate. So you should toast yourself—toast to surviving."

Deep in Chen Ping'an's heart, this old Daoist was no better than that candied haw seller.

Not that the old Daoist was deliberately targeting Chen Ping'an—in fact, Chen Ping'an knew he wasn't even qualified for that, nor were the old Daoist's principles necessarily wrong.

Chen Ping'an simply disliked that feeling.

It wasn't even how mountain dwellers look at ants. It was more like a person looking at their own chicks—whether to fatten and butcher them, or keep raising them, depended entirely on their mood.

But perhaps Chen Ping'an just hadn't climbed high enough to see the human scenery from their perspective.

Chen Ping'an drank a bowl of wine.

Putting aside how good or bad the martial world was, the wine in Lotus Flower Blessed Land was really not great.

Chen Ping'an drank slowly, completely ignoring the old Daoist, earnestly thinking about how he had come this far.

From Mud Vase Alley to the alley outside Cao Qinglang's door.

It turned out that in the human world, there were countless forks in the road beneath everyone's feet.

One must treat oneself kindly.

Only then can one treat the human world kindly.

But that was so hard.

Unease in the heart could be drowned in wine. But with so many injustices in the world, what then? As Chen Ping'an's fist got higher and his sword got faster, the greater his ability, if he saw others' injustices, should he intervene in every one? But if he didn't, how could he cross the hurdle in his heart? Wouldn't that also be an injustice? Would he let down Master Qi, let down the principles in books? Let down being Li Baoping's little uncle?

But he also had to take revenge, fulfill his agreement with the Sword Spirit Sister, practice boxing to become a Seven Realm martial artist, practice swordsmanship, cultivate the Bridge of Longevity to become a great sword immortal, study to become someone like Master Qi, and marry that wonderful girl...

What to do?

Forget all those principles—drink until you're drunk first!

Chen Ping'an's head hit the table with a thud, and he was fast asleep.

In his dream, someone seemed to ask him, after seeing the greatest river, what did he think? Drunk, Chen Ping'an laughed and said the water was so big, the fish must be huge. Baoping always complained her fish soup was too bland. Next time he'd catch a big fish and add enough salt!

The old Daoist's mouth twitched. He stopped drawing wine from the jug with magic and poured himself a bowl by hand. Then he asked, "And all those high mountains—how do you find the scenery?"

Chen Ping'an slapped the table, still slurring drunkenly, "I don't know... but there's a line in a book: 'The green hills so alluring'... but I've walked many mountain paths—too hard in rain and snow, too hard..."

The old Daoist put down his cup, looked at Chen Ping'an across the table, and said with exasperation, "How did Qi Jingchun manage to teach such a drunkard?"