Chapter 333: A Snail Shell Contains a Place for Cultivation

Chapter 333: A Snail Shell Contains a Place for Cultivation

In the mortal world, reclusive wanderers and wandering knights were mostly eccentric and could not be judged by common sense.

Chen Ping'an was not curious about that inconspicuous blue-robed guest.

Just as the knife grinder Liu Zong had said earlier, the road beneath everyone's feet was wide enough, not a narrow path, let alone a single-plank bridge. Everyone could walk their own way, no problem.

Outside the inn, the slovenly, down-and-out man in blue hadn't gone far. He was actually squatting just outside the inn's main door, with the scrawny dog lying beside him. The man turned his head to look at the dog and felt that he was living even worse than it. For a moment, he wanted to compose a poem, but after racking his brains for a long time, he couldn't produce a single verse that the Little Cripple wouldn't mock as "doggerel." The man consoled himself inwardly: it's fine, masterpieces come from heaven, and a lucky hand occasionally finds them—no need to force it.

On the second floor of the inn.

Chen Ping'an hesitated, wondering whether he should invite Zhu Lian out again.

The reason was that he planned to stay a little longer in this Daquan Dynasty. With only Wei Xian by his side, he could at most protect Pei Qian and wouldn't be much help. If they fell into a dangerous situation like the Lotus Flower Blessed Land, surrounded by enemies on all sides, Chen Ping'an worried he might make mistakes in the chaos.

After successfully inviting Wei Xian out from one of the scrolls, Chen Ping'an had not touched the second one. It wasn't that he begrudged the Grain Rain Coins—eleven Grain Rain Coins in exchange for the founding emperor of the Nanyuan Kingdom, a historical "ten-thousand-man vanquisher," once the number one person in the world. If Chen Ping'an wasn't secretly delighted, he had at least held himself back well.

Back then, when he set the bottom line at ten Grain Rain Coins, it wasn't that Chen Ping'an thought someone like Wei Xian was only worth that price. Rather, it was because he was afraid that the old Daoist, who seemed in a bad mood at their last meeting, had given him the scrolls but he himself couldn't afford to support them. The old Daoist neither broke the rules nor made things too ugly, but Chen Ping'an couldn't keep gambling indefinitely.

After all, Grain Rain Coins were the most precious of the three types of immortal money. One coin was equivalent to a million taels of silver, a small mountain of silver. The Great Li Dynasty, after annexing the Lu Dynasty, claimed to be unrivaled in the northern part of Bottle Gourd Continent, but what was its annual tax revenue? Sixty million taels of silver. Of course, that was just the silver that the Song clan of Great Li put on the table.

These days, Chen Ping'an had remained inactive because he had chewed over unusual implications from the words of the little Daoist child carrying the golden Sword-nurturing Gourd on his back. That fellow clearly intended to screw him over, and specifically with the scroll of the martial madman Zhu Lian. The old Daoist, probably constrained by face, had only dug a small pit for Chen Ping'an, but the little Daoist child had vigorously excavated a large one.

Chen Ping'an piled the remaining Grain Rain Coins at hand, picked up one, and gently tossed it into the scroll.

Clouds and mists rose and swirled, a sight he never tired of.

In the main hall on the first floor, the old man behind the curtain tapped his tobacco pipe, stood up, and came to the counter. He glanced out the door. "That down-and-out scholar isn't simple."

The woman absentmindedly flicked the abacus. "Third Master, how many times have you nagged me? I have it in mind. I won't really provoke him."

The old man rested his elbow on the counter, puffing smoke, and said in a deep voice, "If you truly like him, just remarry. If your father doesn't agree, I'll back you up later."

The woman stomped her foot, furious and embarrassed. "Third Master, what nonsense are you talking?! How could I possibly like him?!"

The old man said calmly, "Isn't it good? Even though I don't know his background or roots, I can't see through him. How many young men like that are there on the Daquan border? If he shaved off his beard, his face might still be passable."

The woman directly ignored the last sentence. She raised her chin and pointed toward Chen Ping'an's room upstairs. "How many? Third Master, that young foreign guest in the white robe with the red gourd, along with his personal guard—could you see through them? No, right? Inside the inn and outside, that's three in one go, isn't it?"

The old man put on a stern face and tossed out a remark before heading back to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat and reward his stomach. "Good intentions treated like donkey's liver and lungs. You deserve to be widowed for so many years."

The woman was long accustomed to the old man's temper. She called out softly, "Regardless, the three upstairs are our benefactors. Don't go taking liberties, like drugging them. Last time, you stripped those two rascals naked and had them thrown out at the entrance of Hu'er Town in the dead of night. You turned two grown men into scared virgins; they almost hanged themselves."

The old man curled his lip. "They weren't wicked scoundrels. Why would I drug them? I'm more worried you might drug that young man, knock him out, and have your way with him."

The woman made a gesture of slapping. "A dog's mouth can't spit out ivory."

The old man liked to be pedantic. "Why don't you go ask that Fortune outside? Can it spit out ivory?"

The woman retorted, "I'm not a dog. I can't chat with Fortune, unlike you."

The old man pointed his pipe at her. "If anyone ever takes a fancy to you, their ancestors' coffin boards won't hold them down."

The woman couldn't care less about such talk. After years of mixing in the marketplace and running this inn, hosting guests from all directions, she had heard everything—salty talk, sharp talk, sour talk. She lowered her voice, "That great demon—could it have been killed by this man?"

The old man shook his head. "If it really was the number one general under the Water God of Songzhen Lake, then only a terrestrial immortal would have that kind of heaven-reaching ability. Although this dandy scholar is certainly not simple, he's not that strong. It's not like he's one of those old Confucian scholars from the academy who do great learning. Those Confucian sages, if they did such a righteous deed, wouldn't hide their traces. There's no need to conceal it, right?"

The woman fell into thought.

The old man finally advised, "Alright, I won't say good words twice. Let me nag you one last time. I think that down-and-out scholar, aside from being a bit poor, a bit ugly, a bit foul-mouthed, and a bit lacking in proper conduct, is actually passable. At least he's a sturdy young man..."

The woman's face darkened, and she spat out a single word through clenched teeth, "Scram!"

The hunchbacked old man's expression remained unchanged as he turned and left.

His weathered face was like a gnarled old tree bark. If a mosquito bit him, a slight frown might crush it.

Both palms were covered in calluses. He walked with his hands behind his back, left hand holding his right wrist, right hand holding the old tobacco pipe.

The old man seemed to mutter to himself, "Late at night, in this cold winter, a cat yowling for a mate? Strange. The Little Cripple asked me about it just today."

The woman's face reddened slightly. She ground her teeth and cursed, "You old lecherous thing! You deserve to be a bachelor all your life!"

The Little Cripple had just finished clearing the tables. He heard the last exchange between the Old Hunchback and the landlady and asked curiously, "Boss Lady, what's going on exactly? Our inn doesn't have a cat. Could it be a stray that snuck in from outside? If I catch it, I'll give it a good beating. I told you, things like chicken legs and steamed buns are often missing from the kitchen. It must be that greedy cat stealing food. Don't worry, I'll definitely drag it out..."

The landlady grabbed a feather duster from behind the counter and whacked the Little Cripple over the head. "Drag it out? I'll have you drag it out!"

Still not satisfied, she came around the counter and chased the limping boy, beating him so hard that he almost ran like the wind.

She casually dropped the feather duster, hesitated for a moment, then tiptoed upstairs. She slowed her steps and paced back and forth, but heard nothing unusual. She returned to the main hall, stared blankly for a while, then went to the Old Hunchback's domain behind the curtain. In the kitchen, she picked up a palm-sized piece of dried meat and a small pot of half-year-aged green plum wine. She walked outside the inn, saw the down-and-out scholar squatting by the dog, gave a shout, and after the blue-robed man looked up, tossed him the wine and meat. She said coldly, "One tael of silver. It's on the bill. Not a gift."

It wasn't until the woman stepped back across the threshold into the main hall that the blue-robed man withdrew his gaze. He sighed, "Fortune, do you know what this is called? This is what they mean by 'beauty's favor is hardest to bear.'"

He tore off a small piece of meat for Fortune beside him, then rubbed his own beard. "If I shaved this beard, would that be something?!"

As the woman stepped onto the second floor, Chen Ping'an pressed gently on the scroll and turned his head toward the door.

Fortunately, the woman did not knock to disturb.

After she descended the stairs, Chen Ping'an began to sink more coins.

In one go, Chen Ping'an tossed twelve Grain Rain Coins into the scroll.

Still, Zhu Lian did not appear.

Chen Ping'an picked up the Sword-nurturing Gourd lying beside him, only to remember that it had been empty even before entering the inn. He could only set it down gently.

The Song clan's Yin spirit of Old Dragon City had paid ten Grain Rain Coins for that bamboo slip, Lu Tai of Flying Eagle Fort had split the spoils and paid Chen Ping'an twenty, plus the gains and losses from the Inverted-Hanging Mountain journey, Chen Ping'an had a total of twenty-nine Grain Rain Coins. For Wei Xian, the scroll had devoured eleven, leaving eighteen.

At present, only six Grain Rain Coins were left on the table.

The martial madman Zhu Lian was still "putting on airs" in the scroll, refusing to come out. So for the other two—Lu Baixiang of the Demon Sect, and Sui Youbian, the only female sword immortal in Lotus Flower Blessed Land's history—how many coins would Chen Ping'an have to shell out?

Chen Ping'an sighed and glanced at the smiling old man in the scroll.

If he threw in more, he would truly be broke. Although he had accumulated quite a number of Snowfall Coins and Minor Heat Coins, those were just numbers. Converted into Grain Rain Coins, they shrank drastically.

Somewhat helpless, Chen Ping'an put away the scroll and hid it inside the flying sword Fifteen. He opened the door and went downstairs to drink and drown his worries. Previously, he had been too busy carrying Wei Xian upstairs to remember to fill the Sword-nurturing Gourd with wine. Shaking the empty "Jiang Hu," Chen Ping'an thought of that little Daoist child carrying the enormous golden gourd. He muttered inwardly, having been told about the other six "most" Sword-nurturing Gourds in the world. Could it be that the gourd carried by that little Daoist child was the one best at holding wine?

At this moment, Chen Ping'an had no idea that he had accidentally guessed correctly, though only half.

That golden Sword-nurturing Gourd, named "Douliang," did indeed hold the most water in the world—the water of the Eastern Sea. As a result, the entire surface of the Eastern Sea had dropped by several feet.

Thus, some impoverished scholar couldn't help but marvel, adding half a flattering remark: "A tiny gourd can nurture a thousand flood dragons. The Wayward Elder is good, very good, extremely good."

Of course, it might also have been because, after debating the Way with the old Daoist and damaging several lotus leaves in the Lotus Cave Heaven, he said this to curry favor.

In the Central Continent, at the Confucian Temple revered as the "Orthodox Source of Refinement," those clay statues of sages still towering on their platforms certainly wouldn't do such things—breaking someone's things and then playing clever and shameless. But this old scholar, whose statue had been removed from the Confucian Temple, did it so naturally that he was even more natural than the Daoist immortals in the Jade Capital.

Downstairs, the landlady smiled like a flower.

Pretty, wealthy, and with good demeanor—the more the woman looked at Chen Ping'an, the more pleasing he was to the eye.

Chen Ping'an ordered a small jar of five-year-aged green plum wine and poured it into the Sword-nurturing Gourd in front of her.

In the woman's eyes, the Sword-nurturing Gourd was just a vermilion wine gourd, polished to a mirror sheen, worthless. But it was clearly a cherished object passed down through at least two generations, worn into an old artifact.

The woman propped her cheek with one hand, sitting sideways on a long bench, turning her head to watch the young man, who poured the wine with a steady hand. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, a lingering wine blush not yet faded. She smiled and asked, "Wouldn't it be simpler for you to drink from a bowl, young master? If you finish this pound of wine, you'll have to refill the gourd again, won't you?"

Nevertheless, she brought a pot of wine for herself, drinking alone, and didn't forget to bring three small dishes of appetizers, along with two pairs of chopsticks.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "My capacity is limited to that much. Once I finish, that's it. No need to refill."

The woman laughed. "Your friend is a truly good drinker."

Chen Ping'an felt a bit embarrassed. He thought to himself, Wei Xian, you were a founding emperor—how could you be so disgraceful?

Chen Ping'an asked casually, "Since the Yao family's border troops have such a big name at the frontier, does the landlady know which important figures are in the Yao family now?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Oh, young master, you wouldn't be a spy from the Northern Jin Kingdom, would you?"

Chen Ping'an pointed upstairs. "Is there a spy like me? One who brings such a heavy-drinking friend and a child along?"

The woman nodded. "True. If the Northern Jin Kingdom had spies like you, there wouldn't be so many wars to fight. The world would be at peace long ago."

She was a bit tipsy, stretched out her arm, and tried to pick up some sauce meat from a dish but missed twice. Chen Ping'an gently pushed the dish closer. She gave him a charming glance, then simply put down her chopsticks. "I'll tell you a bit. Let you southern barbarians know the might of our Daquan border troops."

She burped, not feeling embarrassed. "That old General Yao, who spent half his life on horseback, is one of our Daquan's 'Expeditionary' Grand Generals. He has three sons and two daughters, but unfortunately, two sons and one daughter are dead. His youngest daughter married into the capital—a truly good match, they say it's a match made in heaven, a divine union. Grandsons and granddaughters aplenty. The most promising are two: the grandson is Yao Xianzhi, who reportedly enlisted at ten; the granddaughter is Yao Lingzhi, even more remarkable—her martial talent is known throughout the entire border."

Chen Ping'an was curious. "Why do they all end with 'zhi'?"

The woman laughed. "It's the 'zhi' generation."

Chen Ping'an was even more puzzled. "Shouldn't the generation character be in the middle? Isn't it different in your Daquan?"

The woman replied testily, "How would I know the ancestral rules of that wealthy Yao family? Can't rich people have some quirks?"

Chen Ping'an asked tentatively, "With such a big reputation for the Yao family's iron cavalry, there must be plenty of envious people in your Daquan, right?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "You ask me, who do I ask? The Emperor?"

She laughed to herself, full of allure. "Only if the old Emperor takes a fancy to my looks and takes me into the palace. I'm old, but he's the Emperor after all—maybe even his bed frame is made of gold..."

Finally, having said something that lightened her mood, she raised her cup and said loudly, "Life's road is narrow, but the wine cup is wide. Let me, Ninth Sister, drink one with you, young master."

Chen Ping'an's eyes lit up. He raised his cup and smiled. "I'll remember that line. Well said. Let's drink one!"

They both finished the remaining wine in their bowls.

By the threshold sat the blue-robed scholar, secretly watching the man and woman chatting happily over wine. His face was full of resentment as he muttered to himself.

"A good dog doesn't block the way!"

A loud voice rang out. The down-and-out scholar was kicked sideways and stumbled. Three men with swords at their waists strode into the main hall one after another.

The leader was a sturdy man. In the dead of winter, he deliberately revealed some chest muscle. He sat on the long bench to Chen Ping'an's left. The two men under him went to fetch wine and bowls, familiar with the place. The two sat on another bench, and a table was immediately filled. The sturdy man refused a white bowl offered by a young blade-wielder, grabbed the bowl in front of the woman, poured green plum wine, splashing it everywhere, and downed it in one gulp. He wiped his mouth, then suddenly clutched his stomach, his face full of alarm, and pointed a trembling finger at the woman. "This wine is wrong... There's poison in the wine..."

The two young men across the table immediately pressed their sword hilts, their faces slightly pale.

The woman said impatiently, "Ma Ping, do you have crap in your head? Did you eat too much crap at lunch today, and the crap happened to be poisonous, rotting your brain?"

The sword-wielding man grinned, his face returning to normal. "Just a joke. Why the cursing?"

The two young colleagues beside him quickly drank to steady their nerves.

The man glanced at Chen Ping'an, who was in the way. "Boy, where are you from? Show me your travel permit!"

Just as the woman was about to speak, Chen Ping'an had already taken the permit from his bosom and gently placed it on the table in front of the sturdy swordsman.

The man picked it up, looked at the dense seals of vermilion stamped on it, and clicked his tongue. "Quite a lot of stamps. You've traveled this far?"

Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded.

The man was irritated by his demeanor. He was used to seeing the fawning and obsequious smiles of the common folk in Hu'er Town. Now here was someone who didn't flatter or bow, and he was good-looking to boot. He thought of finding a way to teach this kid a lesson, to let him know that Hu'er Town was this area's snake. Even a downhill tiger would have to crouch when it met Ma Ping, and an overland dragon would have to coil up obediently. No one else was allowed to exchange flirtatious glances with Ninth Sister of the inn.

The woman suddenly asked, "I heard there's been haunting in the town again? Who's gone mad this time?"

Mentioning this unlucky business, Ma Ping lost his enthusiasm. He tossed the travel permit back to the pretty boy, took a sulky gulp of wine, and said in a muffled voice, "Damn strange. Before, it always harmed foreigners. This time, it struck one of our own. You know old Liu, the one-armed man who runs the paper money shop and often does feng shui for people? He's gone completely crazy. In this weather, in broad daylight, he ran around the streets naked, saying he was too hot. We had to lock him up. Within a few days, his room was full of shit and piss, stinking to high heaven. Only today has he sobered up a bit, stopped muttering those weird words. My brothers and I thought we'd come over and ask you, Ninth Sister, for a few bowls of green plum wine to boost our yang energy and wash away the bad luck."

The woman frowned. "What's to be done? Last time, you spent a fortune to bring that master from the prefectural city. Didn't he give you a stack of immortal talismans? Didn't you brag to me, 'One talisman, ten thousand ghosts retreat'?"

The sturdy man turned his head and spat a thick glob of phlegm on the ground. "Bullshit master! He's a con man. I got screwed too. Captain Han has been giving me a hard time lately."

Ma Ping let out a breath, forced a smile, and reached out to touch the woman's hand. She casually withdrew her hand, not letting him succeed. Ma Ping said with a grin, "Ninth Sister, what do you think of me? I'm somewhat of a face in Hu'er Town, right? I earn decent money, have a clean family background, I've trained in martial arts, and I've got endless strength. Aren't you tempted? Ninth Sister, don't be shy. Your big brother Ma isn't a rigid man. I don't care about your past."

The woman gave a cold laugh.

After several attempts to take advantage under the pretense of drunkenness, all of which the woman dodged, Ma Ping and his two fellow bailiffs ordered a full table of dishes, drank until they were soused, ate until their mouths dripped with oil, and obviously were freeloading. In the end, they even refused to leave and went upstairs to sleep, saying they'd return to Hu'er Town the next day.

Chen Ping'an had long since moved to the next table. After the Little Cripple cleaned up, the woman sat next to Chen Ping'an, let out a long sigh as if exhausted, and said bitterly, "This Ma Ping is the bailiff of Hu'er Town. His family has done this job for generations, only barely connected to the government yamen. In a shithole like that, the so-called officials, even the highest hat, are just minor officials not in the clear stream. The rest are petty clerks, not real officials, but their airs are bigger than heaven."

Pei Qian heard the commotion outside, gently opened the door, crouched down, stuck her head through the gaps in the second-floor railing, and secretly watched the two below. After pulling her head out with difficulty, she scurried down the stairs. As she approached the wine table, she heard the woman complaining to Chen Ping'an about the petty ghosts in officialdom being hard to deal with, saying that the bailiffs often came to freeload at the inn, and she had to spend money to buy peace. What else could she do?

Pei Qian secretly smirked, her mouth gaping open, but after holding it in for a long time, she finally couldn't help it. She burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. "Buy peace, buy peace... Oh, I can't take it anymore! I'm dying of laughter! My stomach hurts..."

Chen Ping'an stood up, came to Pei Qian's side, and grabbed her ear. "Does it hurt or not?"

Pei Qian, her ear pulled, immediately stopped laughing and said pitifully, "My stomach doesn't hurt, but my ear hurts..."

The woman was baffled, not knowing what the skinny, sneaky little girl was laughing at.

Chen Ping'an bid farewell to the woman and dragged Pei Qian by the ear toward the staircase. Pei Qian tilted her head and walked on her heels, shouting that she wouldn't do it again.

Once they reached the stairs, he let go of her ear. At the door of the room, he turned and instructed Pei Qian, "Don't go out casually."

Pei Qian rubbed her ear and nodded.

After Chen Ping'an closed the door, Pei Qian stood by the railing, just as the woman looked up and met her gaze. Pei Qian snorted coldly, hopped back to her own room, and slammed the door forcefully.

Outside the inn, the sun was setting in the west. Someone came riding in on horseback—a young girl with a ponytail, delicate features but a tough demeanor. She carried a horse bow on her back and a waist knife at her side. She left the fine horse outside the door casually, apparently not worried it would wander off.

The blue-robed scholar was still outside teasing the dog.

The girl glanced at the man but didn't pay him much attention. She walked into the main hall, looked around, and saw the surprised expression on the woman's face. Slightly displeased, she stopped and said to the woman, "Grandfather told me to tell you to close the inn for a while. It's not safe around here."

In front of the girl, the woman had no trace of her earlier coquettishness. She was as dignified as a young lady from a noble family. She raised a finger to her lips to indicate that walls had ears, then said softly, "I'm used to being here, Lingzhi."

The girl said angrily, "You don't know what's good for you!"

The woman smiled and asked, "Would you like some green plum wine?"

The girl's face was full of fury.

Wine?!

The woman realized she had misspoken and showed some shame.

The girl said coldly, "Give me a room. I'll leave tomorrow. Think it over carefully."

The Little Cripple warily led the girl up to the second floor. At the landlady's signal through her eyes, he deliberately chose the cleanest and most elegant room for the girl.

After the light footsteps had completely faded away, Chen Ping'an stacked the remaining six Grain Rain Coins together.

He tossed them into the scroll one by one.

When the third Grain Rain Coin disappeared into the scene, Chen Ping'an stood up and slowly backed away a few steps.

An old man, hunched over, staggered out of the scroll.

He jumped off the table, squinted at Chen Ping'an with a smile, turned around, and reached out to touch the scroll, but grasped nothing. For Zhu Lian, the scroll was within arm's reach yet as far as the horizon.

Ethereal and intangible, unreachable.

Zhu Lian was not furious. He chuckled. "So that's how it is. Young master, is this the immortal magic of your Haoran World?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "You could say that."

This old man, habitually stooped, seemed completely unlike the legendary martial madman who had gone berserk.

The old man always had a smile on his face, a kindly look. In the Lotus Flower Blessed Land, this man had nearly turned the entire martial world upside down. The later-rising Ding Ying, also the number one under heaven, had a very distinct grandmaster aura. That probably had something to do with Ding Ying's tall stature, his unsmiling demeanor, and his silver lotus crown.

This martial madman named Zhu Lian was far from that.

Compared to Wei Xian, who kept everything bottled up, Zhu Lian seemed more resigned and open. He said frankly, "Now that I'm in the young master's homeland, just adapting to the flow of qi in this Haoran World will take many days. As for recovering my peak cultivation from life, it's even harder to say. Well, according to the young master's terms here, I'm currently at the sixth realm of a pure martial artist."

At this, the old man was somewhat self-deprecating. "I might break through a realm in one go, or I might stagnate, or I might even have my qi reversed by the spiritual energy here, draining my true qi and having my cultivation eroded bit by bit. However, I have a feeling that aside from the major threshold of the seventh realm, becoming an eighth- or ninth-realm martial artist won't be too big a problem."

Zhu Lian was very straightforward.

Much more forthright than the taciturn Wei Xian.

Zhu Lian walked to the window, pushed it open, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He muttered to himself, "This seventh realm is somewhat like the transition from acquired to innate for martial artists in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land. It's the hardest step to cross. Once I enter the seventh realm of the martial path, I believe that subsequent cultivation will merely be a matter of grinding year after year. I dare not say I'll definitely reach the ninth realm, but the eighth realm definitely won't be hard."

Zhu Lian turned his head and smiled. "Of course, as long as I adapt to the dense spiritual energy here, I still have a chance to fight to a draw against a seventh-realm pure martial artist with a mediocre foundation. I won't be suppressed by the realm and just wait to die. As for contests within the same realm, as long as it's not a young master like you, my odds of victory are extremely high."

Chen Ping'an murmured, "The bottleneck is only at the seventh realm?"

The old man sat back at the table, tapping it lightly with one finger. "I am willing to serve the young master faithfully for thirty years. I hope that after that, you can grant me my freedom. How about it?"

Chen Ping'an smiled and shook his head. "I don't know how to restore your freedom."

The old man was stunned, fell silent, and stared at the scroll.

Chen Ping'an guessed that the scroll itself was similar to the natal porcelain in the Pear Blossom Cave Heaven. Even if you were a Jade Pu realm immortal of the upper five realms, you would still be controlled.

Thinking of this, Chen Ping'an smiled.

On Wei Xian's side, he was dead drunk, lying on the bed, talking in his sleep. "No murderous aura on the body, but a murderous heart arises from all sides—that is the posture of an emperor."

A knock sounded. Chen Ping'an put away the last three Grain Rain Coins and the scroll. Just as he was about to open the door, Zhu Lian did it for him.

Pei Qian blinked, then quickly moved far away from Zhu Lian, running behind Chen Ping'an.

Zhu Lian closed the door, turned around, and said with a chuckle, "The little girl has excellent bone structure. Is she the young master's daughter?"

Pei Qian nodded vigorously.

Chen Ping'an shook his head, then turned and asked, "Looking for me?"

Pei Qian glanced at Zhu Lian and shook her head.

Zhu Lian took the hint. He smiled and asked, "Young master, is there a place for me to stay?"

Chen Ping'an said, "Out the door, the second room on the right. But Wei Xian is staying there. If you don't want to share a room, I'll ask for another one for you."

"Traveling the world, I'm not picky about such things."

Zhu Lian waved his hand, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Young master, you chose that founding emperor of Nanyuan first?"

Chen Ping'an nodded and warned, "Don't let there be any conflict of ego between you two."

Zhu Lian smiled. "The ten-thousand-man vanquisher Wei Xian—I admire him greatly. I'd be too happy to toast him to offend him."

Zhu Lian walked out of the room and gently closed the door.

Just as he left a crack, he suddenly asked, "May I ask how much the young master spent on me?"

Chen Ping'an replied, "Seventeen Grain Rain Coins."

Zhu Lian smiled. "I've put the young master to great expense."

After the old man left, Pei Qian was still uneasy. She went to bolt the door, then felt relieved.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Wei Xian has a straight face every day, and you're not afraid of him. Zhu Lian is so gentle and kind, but you're more afraid of him?"

Pei Qian said softly, "I'm just afraid."

Chen Ping'an asked again, "What is it?"

Pei Qian said softly, "I think that landlady isn't a good person. Plus the Little Cripple and the Old Hunchback—how strange is that? Could this be a black inn? The storyteller under the bridge told stories about black inns where they love to drug guests and then make them into human meat buns."

Chen Ping'an laughed angrily. "Don't think nonsense. Go back and read your books."

Pei Qian sighed and left dejectedly.

Chen Ping'an had no mood to look at the remaining two scrolls—Lu Baixiang and Sui Youbian. He didn't dare to invite one out, fearing it would be easier to invite the god than to send it away. The other, he dared even less.

He recalled Pei Qian's impressions of Wei Xian and Zhu Lian.

Actually, her intuition was not wrong at all.

Wei Xian looked at people from above, as a sovereign who would be recorded in history.

Zhu Lian's gaze was like a living person looking at the dead. His eyes were dim, like a deep pool. The smile on the old man's face should not be taken seriously.

On the threshold of the inn, the blue-robed scholar sat with his back to the hall, looking up at the brilliant sunset. He gently slapped his knees, holding a wine jug. With every sip of green plum wine, he muttered a phrase.

"Where clouds are deep, one sees dragons; where forests are deep, one meets deer; by peach blossoms, a beauty; on the battlefield, a hero; in a humble alley, a renowned scholar..."

Bang!

The blue-robed scholar was knocked flat on his face. He fell with a mouthful of dirt but still clutched the wine jug tightly.

It turned out that the Little Cripple had kicked him in the back. "Enough! Are you addicted? I've put up with you long enough!"

The man scrambled up awkwardly, brushed the dust off himself, and said in a deep voice, "Do you know who I am?"

The Little Cripple looked at the somewhat unfamiliar shabby scholar and felt a bit guilty, but he shouted loudly, "Who are you?!"

The blue-robed scholar said seriously, "What do you call Ninth Sister?"

The Little Cripple was taken aback. "Boss Lady."

The blue-robed scholar asked again, "And what is the Boss Lady's husband to you?"

The Little Cripple almost went mad.

He flew off the threshold, fists and feet flying, chasing after this bastard who only gave his surname as Zhong, beating him relentlessly.

The man held the wine jug high, dodging everywhere, fleeing while drinking. A few punches and kicks landed, but they didn't hurt.

The sun was setting.

There was once a prophecy about this scholar.

A saying the scholar himself didn't take seriously.

Before a certain Zhong left the mountain, all ghosts in the world acted without restraint.