Chapter 363: Who Can Lend Me a Sword

Chapter 363: Who Can Lend Me a Sword

The Dust and Herb Apothecary had returned to its former liveliness.

After Zheng Dafeng had been feeding punches for half an hour, he let the four from the scroll take a breather. And so it went, intermittently, Zheng Dafeng always suppressing his realm to the Eighth Realm, but gradually increasing it, from the initial early Far Traveling Realm to the final Eighth Realm flawless peak. Facing the increasingly skilled combined attacks of Wei Xian and the others, Zheng Dafeng found it less and less easy. The four still never gathered to speak, not even during rest breaks; they each stood apart, each lost in their own thoughts, everything understood without words.

Pei Qian was carefree. After dinner and copying her texts, she went to the eaves of the courtyard, took the walking staff, and performed a set of the crazy sword technique she had derived on her own. Satisfied, she went to the side room to sleep. Before sleeping, at the door of the room, she greeted Chen Ping'an, then opened the green bamboo book chest he had placed in her room, took out the multi-treasure box that Yao Jinzhi had given her, looked at this and that, with the Pagoda-Suppressing Demon Talisman that truly belonged to her now pasted on her forehead. She shook her head and looked smug. "Today, I'm rich!" She touched the talisman on her head, a little distressed. She knew that selling it could buy a big mansion, but she was reluctant. "Oh well, I'll wait until I get a second one. Anyway, I don't have to worry about food or clothes now, and a mansion is useless." Still, she thought, someday she must have a mansion as big as that short Winter Melon Water God Lady's Bihai Residence, with a strange screen wall like that, so that people would know she was rich as soon as they entered.

The night the group moved into the shop, the Yin spirit surnamed Zhao brought back a pile of geomancy charts. No one knew from which mansion he had taken them. They were laid neatly on the main hall table. Under the lamp, Lu Baixiang asked Zheng Dafeng for a fine-tipped brush, and as if planning a military campaign, began marking them with red notes, indicating the "key passes" of the five major surnames of Old Dragon City, the "troop deployments" of their guest retainers and Golden Core Earth Immortals, and then drew a straight line between Climbing Dragon Terrace and the Dust Shop.

Wei Xian was also present. Zhu Lian and Sui Youbian did not participate. One was reading a book under the eaves by moonlight, the other stood in the courtyard refining the pure true qi in the apertures of his qi mansion.

As for Zheng Dafeng, he had already gone to the side room to sleep, snoring like thunder. They had agreed that he would feed them punches again after two hours.

Feeding punches both tempered the four's martial arts cultivation, raising their realms another notch, and at the same time helped them absorb the spiritual nature of the Green Tiger Palace pills at the fastest speed.

This deal was a win for Chen Ping'an.

Chen Ping'an stood by the table the whole time, watching Lu Baixiang, Wei Xian, and the Zhao Yin spirit circle and point at the geomancy charts. He rarely offered suggestions. At most, when the two men and the Yin spirit had a dispute over a detail, Chen Ping'an would decide between good and better. In fact, he was quite relaxed.

That last "walk along the river of time" journey in Lotus Flower Blessed Land had been long, and the years he experienced were even more extensive. But even so, Chen Ping'an only dared to claim a slight understanding of worldly affairs, a slight knowledge of the heights of the court and the distances of the jianghu. He would not meddle in specific planning related to military strategy; he left it to the true experts. There was no need to say much about Wei Xian, who came from a battlefield background. And Lu Baixiang was a rare first-rate all-rounder in the world, proficient in military strategy, well-versed in the essence of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism in Lotus Flower Blessed Land, not to mention music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. The founding patriarch of the demonic sect—his only shortcoming now was that he had just arrived in the Haoran World and had yet to reach the summit.

But as one climbs from the foot of the mountain to the halfway point and then to the top, the number of travelers on the path inevitably dwindles. What if one takes a wrong turn, ends up at the end of a dead-end road, and can only watch as others continue to ascend? What then?

So Chen Ping'an could understand Sui Youbian's anger when her lifelong obsession with the highest martial realm dropped from the hopeful Divine Martial Realm to the Ninth Realm, almost causing her heart to collapse and her sword heart to shatter. But he did not approve. Zheng Dafeng had grinned and said to the four, "Only the Ninth Realm, don't laugh." But did they really think the Ninth Realm was as common as roadside cabbages? Zheng Dafeng was a direct disciple of Old Man Yang! The gatekeeper of Pearl Grotto Heaven had almost gone mad at the threshold of the Ninth Realm.

Sui Youbian had broken through to the Golden Body Realm in the battle at the broken temple, a great fortune already in hand. Yet her eyes were still fixed only on the scenery at the highest point. This ran counter to the Haoran World's principle for pure martial artists: to be down-to-earth and step by step climb to the heavens.

But Chen Ping'an did not think his reasoning could truly convince the female sword immortal from Lotus Flower Blessed Land. That was fine. The Heart-Devoted Sword was his Chen Ping'an's, and the Green Tiger Palace pills were also his. Whether to give them to Sui Youbian, when to give them, and how to give them—all were his decisions.

No one owed Sui Youbian anything.

Under a single lamp, on multiple geomancy charts, a main thread had been sorted out. There were fewer and fewer disputes inside the room, so Chen Ping'an went out for some fresh air.

He crossed the courtyard and sat on the long bench under the eaves opposite the main hall.

The layout of the Dust and Herb Apothecary was very similar to the Yang Family Apothecary in his hometown. When Chen Ping'an walked toward that long bench, he remembered the time when a teacher who had come to visit Old Man Yang for the first time put away his umbrella and sat roughly in that spot.

When encountering injustices in the world, it is hardest to calm the hearts of those who recognize them as injustices.

For people like Gao Shizhen or Liu Cong, they wouldn't consider this an injustice. They would just watch from the sidelines and see if they could profit from it.

For people like Jiang Shangzhen, they might think it wasn't even a matter worth noticing; one more glance would be a waste of cultivation time.

As for the siege at the broken temple, even though Chen Ping'an had suffered heavy losses in resources and had been utterly fleeced, he didn't hold a deep grudge. Not holding a grudge didn't mean he would be soft when it came time to throw a punch.

But Jiang Shangzhen probably still didn't understand why Chen Ping'an had decided to kill Zhou Shi and Crow Girl in Lotus Flower Blessed Land.

Even Zheng Dafeng, sleeping soundly at the moment, probably didn't understand why Chen Ping'an had to meddle in the chaos of Old Dragon City.

Actually, the principle was simple. If both sides were roughly evenly matched and their paths differed, each acting according to their own principles, then they would fight with all their might, using schemes and open strategies, with life and death on the line. Chen Ping'an could accept that.

But the heads of Cao Qinglang's parents, casually thrown to the ground by Zhou Shi and Crow Girl, dripping with blood.

And the little girl from the herb shop who died at the hands of the Fang family scion.

No matter how many reasons and excuses Ding Ying or the Fang family had to convince themselves and the world, these three individuals should not have suffered such a calamity.

At that moment, Chen Ping'an did not yet know that Qi Jingchun, while drinking cheap wine at Li Huai's house, had said to Li Er, "A true hero throws punches at the strong." He only knew that before ascending, A Liang had said to all of them: "The freedom of the weak should be the boundary of any true strong person."

The world is full of joys and sorrows, separations and reunions, countless, each with its own hardships and fortunes. No two leaves are the same, and there are no two identical rivers.

But some principles are universal.

Lu Tai, in Flying Eagle Fort, said to the pitiful woman with a "ghost fetus in her heart": "The world is boring; better not to come."

Chen Ping'an thought it over and over. It wasn't that the world was boring, but that there were too many people unwilling to listen to reason.

Good people suffer losses and can only console themselves that suffering is a blessing, warn themselves to offend gentlemen rather than villains. The wicked do evil without knowing it, or even know it and still do evil.

Chen Ping'an sat on the long bench. The main hall was still deliberating every detail. The Zhao clan Yin spirit was familiar with the forces of Old Dragon City, so Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang acted as one side, while the Yin spirit put himself in the enemy's shoes, simulating attacks on the Dust Shop from the Fu family's perspective at various angles and with various troop strengths. Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang responded to each move.

Zhu Lian was under the eaves, flipping through a pornographic book that he cherished most. It was a new book not bought long ago, but he had already worn it out by reading it repeatedly. He was muttering, "A work of conscience! A work of conscience!" The poor-quality printed book, with a clearly fake author's name, had a long list of "masterpieces" by fellow enthusiasts on the last page, along with a few lines of insightful commentary. So tonight, the old man closed the book again and sincerely sighed, "Good people live safely all their lives."

Having said that, the stooped old man turned to Chen Ping'an with an embarrassed smile: "Young master, your servant was presumptuous. I'll be more careful in the future."

Chen Ping'an waved his hand with a smile, reminding him, "Remember to keep that matter secret."

Zhu Lian said guiltily, "It was your servant's lack of knowledge. I've been feeling guilty these days; how dare I leak even a bit."

Chen Ping'an didn't respond.

Earlier, on the Tianque Peak ferry, Chen Ping'an had thought about sending a letter to the Inverted Mountain to the Crane Inn, asking the innkeeper to pass it to the sword-carrying man, to see if it could be sent to the Sword Qi Great Wall for Miss Ning. But every time he picked up the brush, he struggled. He didn't know how to write the letter. In the end, he went to Zhu Lian, who could say the line "When love stirs, it goes clang." But Zhu Lian, whom he thought was a romantic, turned out to be exactly what Sui Youbian considered him: an old lecher. His suggestions either gave Chen Ping'an goosebumps or made him break out in a cold sweat, so he gave up.

In the courtyard, Sui Youbian drew her sword and flicked the blade.

She listened to the clinking sound.

This least likable woman among the group, for once, had a rare smile.

Chen Ping'an said with a smile, "Sui Youbian, that's fine. Why are you always frowning? If there's an opportunity, I'll introduce you to some sword immortals."

It came from the heart, within bounds.

Sui Youbian sheathed her sword, turned to Chen Ping'an, and sneered, "So the fox's tail is showing? What, do you want me to warm your bed?"

Chen Ping'an laughed, "No, no. I'm timid."

Zhu Lian said with a smirk, "Willing to follow the master up to the Heavenly Terrace, to chat with immortals and sweep the fallen petals—good poem, good poem. Young master, are you the master or the immortal?"

The moment Chen Ping'an heard that lithe flattery from that old bastard Zhu Lian, he knew trouble was coming. Sure enough, Sui Youbian's face turned icy cold, murderous. She was probably deciding which one to kill first.

Chen Ping'an and Zhu Lian almost simultaneously fled—one dashing into the house, the other running into the front shop.

Sui Youbian snorted and returned to her room. Pei Qian was already asleep. Having grown up alone, accustomed to being tossed about with no one to care, often sleeping in the open or on stone lions outside wealthy homes, her sleeping posture was a complete mess—limbs splayed out, unable to keep the blanket warm. Sui Youbian frowned, walked over quietly, adjusted the girl's limbs, and tucked in the blanket.

Sui Youbian lit a lamp and sat alone at the table, silent, with only her sword for company.

That night, Chen Ping'an slept in the shop, on a floor mat, sleeping lightly.

In the courtyard, Zheng Dafeng often fed the four punches.

Chen Ping'an closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of fist intent flowing, sometimes light, sometimes heavy, rippling faintly in his heart like knocking on a door.

Nothing happened in the alley that night.

The Fu family still had some face. Moreover, with battle imminent, even if someone had the strength to enter the alley and provoke Zheng Dafeng, it would be slapping the Fu family's face. And now, the face of the Old Dragon City Fu family was almost equal to the face of the Yunlin Jiang clan. If it weren't so, Fu Qi would not have personally challenged Zheng Dafeng to a duel at Climbing Dragon Terrace.

How many immortal weapons Fu Qi could use was a key point in their earlier discussion in the main hall.

The Fu family scion, at the Golden Core Realm, could use semi-immortal weapons that were extremely difficult to control and might even backfire. This was already a strange matter, but over time, outsiders had just accepted it.

Chen Ping'an woke up early. Zheng Dafeng was squatting at the main hall door, drinking porridge. Pei Qian squatted beside him, whispering, somehow having become close.

Lu Baixiang was in the room playing the zither, with the resonance of high mountains and flowing water.

Wei Xian was in the courtyard practicing the six-step footwork he had secretly learned from Chen Ping'an. Sui Youbian was no better; she was practicing the sword oven stance.

Zhu Lian was more considerate, bringing Chen Ping'an a large bowl of white porridge, saying it was his own cooking. Chen Ping'an sat on the long bench, drinking the porridge as the sky lightened, feeling refreshed.

He opened the front door of the shop. The Dust and Herb Apothecary was open for business. As for customers, there were indeed some early in the morning.

After opening the door, Chen Ping'an started practicing his steps and punches in the alley, going back and forth until he reached the corner. Then he turned back. On his third round of punches, a man and a woman came into view.

One familiar face was not surprising; the other, a less familiar woman who had left a deep impression on Chen Ping'an, appeared unexpectedly.

The young man was Fan Er. Beside him was a young woman in a green robe. This was the woman he had encountered on the Dragon Walking Canal underground, when their two ferries passed each other, and she had shown off her ability to levitate a wine jug.

Fan Er saw Chen Ping'an from a distance and laughed, "Chen Ping'an, dare to fight with me, Fan Er of the Fourth Realm?"

Chen Ping'an stopped at the shop door and shook his head. "I dare not."

"You and I, both grandmasters of the Fourth Realm, meeting on a narrow path without a pinnacle battle—wouldn't that leave the world with one less regret!"

Fan Er started with a wild flurry of strange punches, shouting and screaming, rushing at Chen Ping'an.

Chen Ping'an rubbed his forehead, then slowly walked forward, putting on a show of a "pinnacle battle of grandmasters" with Fan Er.

Fortunately, Fan Er had only run a dozen steps before the green-robed woman grabbed him by the collar and tossed him behind her. "Stop making a fool of yourself here. Go play on Climbing Dragon Terrace if you want."

Fan Er obediently walked behind her, winking at Chen Ping'an.

Chen Ping'an stopped and asked, puzzled, "Are you Fan Er's sister, Fan Junmao?"

Fan Junmao also had a wine jug at her waist. She kept walking and sneered, "I wish I didn't have such a brother, but I can't control my father and second mother's loving embraces."

Fan Er snickered without a care.

Chen Ping'an sighed inwardly, then was relieved. Only with this kind of temperament could Fan Junmao earn Fan Er's genuine liking and respect. If she were a gentle, refined lady, Fan Er might still like her, but he wouldn't feel such deep admiration for his sister.

Fan Junmao had no intention of entering the shop. She pointed a finger. "Fan Er, go inside."

Fan Er yelped twice and scurried into the shop. As he passed Chen Ping'an, he risked a warning: "My condolences."

Chen Ping'an was surprised. "Miss Fan, you couldn't be..."

Before he finished, Fan Junmao nodded. "You guessed right. It's me. Last time we met, you were going south, and I was going north, to your hometown Pearl Grotto Heaven. The person I saw was that Old Man Yang. He wasn't very concerned about Zheng Dafeng—said he could live or die on his own in Old Dragon City. But he did mention you specifically, saying if I was interested, I could observe you more."

Regarding Old Man Yang's attitude toward Zheng Dafeng, Zheng Dafeng didn't want to deceive Chen Ping'an on this matter. He had made it clear the previous night that the old man had left a harsh warning: even if his worthless disciple died, he must not reveal even a hint of their background.

Thus, all Fu Nanhua knew of Zheng Dafeng was that he was the slacker gatekeeper of Pearl Grotto Heaven.

Fan Junmao shouted, "Fan Er, throw a chair out. Remember, a chair, not a bench."

Fan Er answered, and sure enough, he carried a chair to the front shop and tossed it out the door.

Fan Junmao caught it and placed it against the wall across from the shop. She sat down, leaned back, and tilted the chair, rocking it back and forth. She said lazily, "Zheng Dafeng probably can't figure it out. Fu Donghai planned this, and Fu Qi didn't know. It was that ambitious but talentless fool Fu Donghai's own doing. Fu Qi knows some inside stories about Pearl Grotto Heaven and genuinely wanted to win over Zheng Dafeng. He even brought that long-legged woman, Fu Chunhua, to find Zheng Dafeng previously. Too bad Zheng Dafeng rejected her advances. Even so, Fu Qi regarded Zheng Dafeng as a crossing dragon and decided not to provoke him as long as he stayed in the small pond of the Fan family. But Fu Donghai caused a huge disaster, and that old woman of the Yunlin Jiang clan had to meddle, turning what Fu Qi could have explained or dealt with behind closed doors as a 'misunderstanding' into a matter of face for the Jiang clan. Now what? Now there must be a duel to the death at Climbing Dragon Terrace. Otherwise, the Fu family, having just married into the Jiang clan, would slap the Jiang clan in the face. If you were the ancestor of the Yunlin Jiang clan, what would you do?"

Chen Ping'an replied, "Children have their own fortunes. Face is not greater than reason."

Fan Junmao seemed shocked by this answer. She took off her wine jug. "Good thing I wasn't drinking just now, or I'd have choked."

Chen Ping'an sat on the threshold. "Although I have some grudges with Sun Jiashu, I think among the major surnames of Old Dragon City, the Sun family's business ethics are the most upright."

Fan Junmao took a sip of wine, a playful look in her eyes. "So the Fan family doesn't impress you?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "With Fan Er like this, the Fan family's way must not be bad. But when too many people have a say in the ancestral hall, each has their own agenda. The head of the family must take care of all aspects, making it hard to keep his hands clean, even having to compromise. I understand that. But regarding Zheng Dafeng, the Fan family was indeed not kind-hearted enough. If, hypothetically, I were to do business with the Fan family in the future, unless Fan Er personally handled it, I wouldn't feel at ease. But with the Sun family, I'd actually feel more assured if Sun Jiashu himself didn't get involved."

Fan Junmao tilted her head, smacking her lips. "You're not stupid either. Why does Old Man Yang say you're too unintelligent?"

Chen Ping'an chuckled. "It's been years since I left home. Besides growing taller, I suppose my brain has grown a bit too."

Fan Junmao nodded. "You've grown a bit of brain, that's true. But when faced with big matters, you're still too unintelligent."

Chen Ping'an was not offended and went straight to the point. "Can we start discussing business now?"

Fan Junmao sneered. "Just from the list Zheng Dafeng gave me, I knew your refining failed. Not only are you a layman, but your ambition outstrips your ability. If I'm not mistaken, the quintessential object you tried to refine with the water phase of the Five Elements must have been quite high-ranked, and the refining incantation and cauldron were good too? Then do you know that besides the inevitable failure, once you fail, the accumulated problems will be deep and the consequences endless?"

Chen Ping'an's face turned serious.

Fan Junmao laughed. "I know you don't believe in bad luck. Business is business. I don't care if you make a profit or a loss after buying my goods. Rest assured, I've brought a pile of heavenly treasures and earthly rarities. I want that golden core of the old flood dragon at Flood Dragon Gully! Such rare goods with no market price have indeed tempted me a bit. Otherwise, I wouldn't have come myself; Fan Er would have sufficed."

Fan Junmao tilted her head and took a hearty gulp of wine. "You guessed right. I'm going to overcharge you, take advantage of your crisis, and it's going to be a vicious cut. But can you, Chen Ping'an, not buy?"

Chen Ping'an tossed out the porcelain bottle containing the old flood dragon's golden core, which Fan Junmao caught with one hand.

Chen Ping'an asked, "I heard from Zheng Dafeng that you can control the sea of clouds above Old Dragon City. If I can offer something even better, would you be willing to intervene, regardless of the outcome of the Climbing Dragon Terrace battle, to save Zheng Dafeng's life?"

"Fan Er carries a distance artifact I gave him. He should be pulling out the goods by now. Since I'm a descendant of the Fan family, in business I still follow some integrity. The goods are all good stuff, just a bit expensive. There's nothing else to complain about. Even if you go to the Fu family, Fu Qi can only give you similar quality goods."

After saying this, Fan Junmao tossed the porcelain bottle lightly in her hand and smiled. "Even if I break the rules and choose to intervene, I'd at most have a fifty percent chance of saving that worthless life of Zheng Dafeng's. And frankly, I don't want to at all."

Chen Ping'an was about to speak.

Zheng Dafeng had already sat on the threshold, beside Chen Ping'an, like two door gods of the Dust Shop. Zheng Dafeng said with a grin, "Enough. Asking her is useless."

Fan Junmao nodded, flipped her wrist, and the bottle vanished. "Indeed."

Chen Ping'an was once again forcefully interrupted by Zheng Dafeng, who even shook his head at him, signaling him not to take out that thing.

Fan Junmao's eyes lit up. "Oh? There really is something good? Let me see. If I think it's worth it, I might consider acting. A tough fight toughens the bones. It's not a bad thing."

Zheng Dafeng suddenly stood up and said, "Enough! Fan Junmao, is it really hopeless for Chen Ping'an to refine his quintessential object?"

Obviously, he was changing the subject to stop Fan Junmao's curiosity from spreading.

Fan Junmao looked bored, slumped back in her chair, and shook her wine jug. "Do you really think refining a quintessential object is like a low-fiverealm Daoist casually refining a few nourishing qi pills? Do you know what 'heaven's timing, earthly advantages, and human harmony' means? Or does Chen Ping'an think he's some uniquely favored, immensely blessed lucky fellow? That a layman can find a spot and successfully refine a quintessential object on the first try? If you succeed, Chen Ping'an, I'll gouge out my eyes and give them to you."

Zheng Dafeng turned to Chen Ping'an and said, "Then don't refine it!"

Zheng Dafeng rarely looked so serious. It had been rare in his life.

Chen Ping'an had no choice but to nod. "Fine. I know my luck in gambling."

Fan Junmao stood up. "Alright, that's it then. Zheng Dafeng, fight well. I'll be watching from above. Remember to die heroically."

Zheng Dafeng returned to his usual self, rubbing his hands and grinning. "Miss Fan, what color dress will you wear that day on the sea of clouds? This green robe looks good, but you should change outfits once in a while."

Fan Junmao was not an ordinary woman. She chuckled. "Even if I stand naked on Climbing Dragon Terrace, you won't be able to open your eyes. Maybe Fu Qi will pierce you with a sword first, still unsatisfied, then step on your head and crush it. Your eyeballs will pop out, bang, fly from the terrace into the sea of clouds, and I'll catch them with two fingers, pop, and they'll explode again."

Zheng Dafeng quickly begged for mercy. "Miss Fan, please say something nice for me, will you?"

Fan Junmao laughed heartily and walked away down the alley.

After confirming Fan Junmao had left, Zheng Dafeng said grimly, "That demonic core—do you know that at the last moment, if you had taken it out, whether to Fu Qi, the Yunlin Jiang clan, or even any great cultivator at the Immortal Realm, they would all be tempted? You could have traded it for your life. What did you get by giving it to Fan Junmao today? Even if she intervened, it was only a fifty percent chance, and that's for me alone. Even if I got saved, how would you all leave Old Dragon City?"

Chen Ping'an suddenly smiled. "I wouldn't want to be your preacher, Zheng Dafeng."

Zheng Dafeng rolled his eyes and sat back on the threshold. "You think I'd want that? It's a matter of me never being able to hold my head up in front of Li Er."

Chen Ping'an tucked his hands into his sleeves and stared at the wall. "But being a protector for the current Zheng Dafeng, I'm willing."

Suddenly, Fan Junmao "sat back" on that chair, laughing heartily. "Ha! There's an even more impressive demonic core! Eleventh realm? No, a Twelfth Realm great demon's core! Must be that great demon's core from the Fuyao Sect in Tongye Continent! Interesting, interesting!"

Zheng Dafeng's face changed drastically. He stared hard at the green-robed woman. "I'm not joking. Don't you dare plan anything for that demonic core!"

Fan Junmao extended a finger and twirled it lightly. Wisps of mist gathered from the wall behind her, coalescing into a small cloud at her fingertip.

If she hadn't planned ahead, she wouldn't have heard Zheng Dafeng's heartfelt words.

Tsk tsk. Even a guy like Zheng Dafeng was willing to open his heart to someone?

Fan Junmao squinted at the young man.

She took a sip of wine, smug. "A Twelfth Realm great demon's core can be refined in three ways: large, medium, and small. Large-scale refining is no less difficult than forging a quintessential object. You, Chen Ping'an, can forget it. I should take it. I control the sea of clouds above your heads. In fact, the Fu family are just caretakers. When I'm not around, they can use some. When I am, even if Fu Qi wanted to use this little cloud on my fingertip, he couldn't."

She wiped her mouth, unable to hide the heat in her eyes. "Give me that demonic core, and I can devour the water transport of three sides of the sea around Old Dragon City. Choose the right moment, and heaven's timing, earthly advantages, and human harmony will all be aligned. What do you say? Give it to me, and I'll have a fifty percent chance of keeping Zheng Dafeng alive. Since this cheap life was going to be lost anyway, saving him once isn't a big deal."

Chen Ping'an asked with a smile, "May I ask, Miss Fan, what about medium and small refining?"

Fan Junmao raised an eyebrow. "Small refining is easy. Best for soaking in wine. As for effects, those who drink it will know!"

Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded. "Alright, then I'll use 'medium refining.' Thank you for the advice, Miss Fan."

Fan Junmao stood up, her gaze sharp.

Zheng Dafeng stood up and said solemnly, "Fan Junmao! Don't forget, I have a Yin spirit here! If you dare act, I'll ensure your realm stagnates for at least a hundred years!"

Fan Junmao paced back and forth along the alley right opposite the shop door, her eyes fixed on the young man named Chen Ping'an.

Finally, Fan Junmao stamped her foot, shot into the air, and vanished into the sea of clouds. She was in a foul mood, shouting as she waved her sleeves, grabbing clouds and smashing them against each other.

She tossed around for a while, then fell flat on her back, lying on the sea of clouds. "If I could just do small refining and soak it in wine, I'd never have to worry for the rest of my life."

She wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth and began rolling around on the clouds.

Back in the alley, Zheng Dafeng wiped the sweat from his forehead and glanced at Chen Ping'an, who remained still. "You've got some nerve!"

Chen Ping'an didn't change expression. "Want to see my back?"

Zheng Dafeng actually stepped over the threshold and looked. Sure enough, Chen Ping'an was soaked in sweat...

Zheng Dafeng sat on the threshold, sighing. "I never imagined that charcoal-black boy who used to stare at the scenery outside his door would become what he is today."

Chen Ping'an took off his Nurturing Sword Gourd and took small sips of wine. "Neither did I."

After a moment of silence.

Chen Ping'an turned and asked with a smile, "For better or for worse?"

Zheng Dafeng thought it over. "Not bad either way."

Then Zheng Dafeng slapped himself across the face. "You've been with Pei Qian and Zhu Lian for only a day, and already you've learned to flatter?"

He stood up, muttering, and walked back to the courtyard behind the shop, calling the four to spar. This time, all four felt the heavy pressure from Zheng Dafeng. It didn't feel like he was feeding them punches; more like he was practicing on them.

Fan Er ran out of the shop with a smile and sat beside Chen Ping'an. "The stuff is all in the room."

Chen Ping'an hummed in acknowledgment. "I probably won't refine my quintessential object, but I want to refine another small thing. You should go back soon. This place isn't safe. Don't cause extra trouble for your family."

Fan Er didn't drag things out. "I'll find another chance to come to the shop."

Chen Ping'an stood up and saw Fan Er to the corner of the alley, where a carriage was already waiting. The coachman was the old Golden Core sword cultivator from Osmanthus Island ferry, Ma Zhi, whose lifebound flying sword was Cool Shade.

As sword cultivators go, a Qi refiner at sixty might be old, but a hundred-year-old sword cultivator is still young.

Back then, Old Sword Cultivator Ma Zhi had even complained to Chen Ping'an that if the Fan family were willing to spend half their wealth to fully support him, a Golden Core sword cultivator, he could have broken through to the Nascent Soul realm.

Chen Ping'an didn't leave the alley. He smiled and waved to the old sword cultivator. Ma Zhi nodded with a smile.

That night, Chen Ping'an lay on the rooftop, holding a jade token he didn't take out often. He stared at it, crystal clear under the moonlight.

Now, Chen Ping'an didn't have much immortal money, but his belongings were not few. This jade token was one of his earliest possessions, acquired before his first journey away from home to Great Sui.

He did not refine the Water Character Seal.

On the road of life, some dangers are known, and it's right to face them. But some temptations must be heeded by that old saying: "If fate gives you eight feet, don't ask for ten."

Chen Ping'an placed the jade token on his body, covered it with both hands, and closed his eyes.

The Heart-Devoted Sword had been lent to Sui Youbian, but without Sui Youbian, that sword was still far from enough for Chen Ping'an. Too bad the Long Qi Sword had been left in Lotus Flower Blessed Land; it could have been used against enemies.

If only someone could lend me a sword.

But such good fortune doesn't exist in this world.

Until the day before Major Cold, the Dust and Herb Apothecary remained calm as clouds and light wind. Not a single customer came.

But instead of customers, a seemingly empty transcontinental ferry docked at the isolated island ferry port.

The Lord of Old Dragon City, Fu Qi; the teaching matron of the Yunlin Jiang clan, an old Nascent Soul sword cultivator; and the orthodox disciple of Tongye Sect, Du Yan, stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for someone to disembark from the ferry.

Finally, only an unremarkable old man stepped off the ship.

If the three who had pursued the great demon of Fuyao Sect had been present, they would have recognized this person.

The surname Du of Tongye Sect, the revival patriarch.

The old man, in plain clothes, walked leisurely off the ferry. When he saw the crowd at the dock, he greeted them amiably, exchanged some pleasantries, with no trace of the vicious aura that Jiang Shangzhen had attributed to "that old freak of Tongye Sect."

But when the old man looked toward the direction of Old Dragon City and spoke of serious matters, everyone immediately felt as if a mountain were pressing down on them. "A Ninth Realm martial artist?"

Fu Qi smiled bitterly. "Yes."

The old man wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "The Great Li dynasty authorized it. Your Old Dragon City Fu family gave our Tongye Sect four ferry boats on the Inverted Mountain route. That's no small gift."Chapter 363: Who Can Lend Me a Sword

The Dust and Herb Apothecary had returned to its former liveliness.

After Zheng Dafeng had been feeding them punches for half an hour, he let the four from the scroll take a breather. This continued intermittently, with Zheng Dafeng always suppressing his realm to the Eighth Realm, but gradually increasing it—from the initial early Far Traveling Realm to the final flawless peak of the Eighth Realm. Facing the increasingly skilled combined attacks of Wei Xian and the others, Zheng Dafeng found it less and less easy. The four still never gathered to speak, not even during rest breaks; they each stood apart, each absorbed in their own thoughts, everything understood without words.

Pei Qian was carefree. After dinner and copying her texts, she went to the courtyard eaves, took the walking staff, and performed a set of the mad sword technique she had derived on her own. Satisfied, she went to the side room to sleep. Before sleeping, at the door of the room, she greeted Chen Ping’an, then opened the green bamboo book chest he had placed in her room, took out the multi-treasure box that Yao Jinzhi had given her, looked at this and that, with the Pagoda-Suppressing Demon Talisman that truly belonged to her now pasted on her forehead. She shook her head and looked smug. “Today, I’m rich!” She touched the talisman on her head, a little distressed. She knew that selling it could buy a big mansion, but she was reluctant. “Oh well, I’ll wait until I get a second one. Anyway, I don’t have to worry about food or clothes now, and a mansion is useless.” Still, she thought, someday she must have a mansion as big as that short Winter Melon Water God Lady’s Bihai Residence, with a strange screen wall like that, so that people would know she was rich as soon as they entered.

The night the group moved into the shop, the yin spirit surnamed Zhao brought back a pile of geomancy charts. No one knew from which mansion he had taken them. They were laid neatly on the main hall table. Under the lamp, Lu Baixiang asked Zheng Dafeng for a fine-tipped brush, and as if planning a military campaign, began marking them with red notes, indicating the “key passes” of the five major surnames of Old Dragon City, the “troop deployments” of their guest retainers and Golden Core Earth Immortals, and then drew a straight line between Climbing Dragon Terrace and the Dust Shop.

Wei Xian was also present. Zhu Lian and Sui Youbian did not participate. One was reading a book under the eaves by moonlight, the other stood in the courtyard refining the pure true qi in the apertures of his qi mansion.

As for Zheng Dafeng, he had already gone to the side room to sleep, snoring like thunder. They had agreed that he would feed them punches again after two hours.

Feeding punches both tempered the four’s martial arts cultivation, raising their realms another notch, and at the same time helped them absorb the spiritual nature of the Green Tiger Palace pills at the fastest speed.

This deal was a win for Chen Ping’an.

Chen Ping’an stood by the table the whole time, watching Lu Baixiang, Wei Xian, and the Zhao yin spirit circle and point on the geomancy charts. He rarely offered suggestions. At most, when the two men and the yin spirit had a dispute over a detail, Chen Ping’an would decide between good and better. In fact, he was quite relaxed.

That last “walk along the river of time” journey in Lotus Flower Blessed Land had been long, and the years he experienced were even more extensive. But even so, Chen Ping’an only dared to claim a slight understanding of worldly affairs, a slight knowledge of the heights of the court and the distances of the jianghu. He would not meddle in specific planning related to military strategy; he left it to the true experts. There was no need to say much about Wei Xian, who came from a battlefield background. And Lu Baixiang was a rare first-rate all-rounder in the world, proficient in military strategy, well-versed in the essence of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism in Lotus Flower Blessed Land, not to mention music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. The founding patriarch of the demonic sect—his only shortcoming now was that he had just arrived in the Haoran World and had yet to reach the summit.

But as one climbs from the foot of the mountain to the halfway point and then to the top, the number of travelers on the path inevitably dwindles. What if one takes a wrong turn, ends up at the end of a dead-end road, and can only watch as others continue to ascend? What then?

So Chen Ping’an could understand Sui Youbian’s anger when her lifelong obsession with the highest martial realm dropped from the hopeful Divine Martial Realm to the Ninth Realm, almost causing her heart to collapse and her sword heart to shatter. But he did not approve. Zheng Dafeng had grinned and said to the four, “Only the Ninth Realm, don’t laugh.” But did they really think the Ninth Realm was as common as roadside cabbages? Zheng Dafeng was a direct disciple of Old Man Yang! The gatekeeper of Pearl Grotto Heaven had almost gone mad at the threshold of the Ninth Realm.

Sui Youbian had broken through to the Golden Body Realm in the battle at the broken temple, a great fortune already in hand. Yet her eyes were still fixed only on the scenery at the highest point. This ran counter to the Haoran World’s principle for pure martial artists: to be down-to-earth and step by step climb to the heavens.

But Chen Ping’an did not think his reasoning could truly convince the female sword immortal from Lotus Flower Blessed Land. That was fine. The Heart-Devoted Sword was his Chen Ping’an’s, and the Green Tiger Palace pills were also his. Whether to give them to Sui Youbian, when to give them, and how to give them—all were his decisions.

No one owed Sui Youbian anything.

Under a single lamp, on multiple geomancy charts, a main thread had been sorted out. There were fewer and fewer disputes inside the room, so Chen Ping’an went out for some fresh air.

He crossed the courtyard and sat on the long bench under the eaves opposite the main hall.

The layout of the Dust and Herb Apothecary was very similar to the Yang Family Apothecary in his hometown. When Chen Ping’an walked toward that long bench, he remembered the time when a teacher who had come to visit Old Man Yang for the first time put away his umbrella and sat roughly in that spot.

When encountering injustices in the world, it is hardest to calm the hearts of those who recognize them as injustices.

For people like Gao Shizhen or Liu Cong, they wouldn’t consider this an injustice. They would just watch from the sidelines and see if they could profit from it.

For people like Jiang Shangzhen, they might think it wasn’t even a matter worth noticing; one more glance would be a waste of cultivation time.

As for the siege at the broken temple, even though Chen Ping’an had suffered heavy losses in resources and had been utterly fleeced, he didn’t hold a deep grudge. Not holding a grudge didn’t mean he would be soft when it came time to throw a punch.

But Jiang Shangzhen probably still didn’t understand why Chen Ping’an had decided to kill Zhou Shi and Crow Girl in Lotus Flower Blessed Land.

Even Zheng Dafeng, sleeping soundly at the moment, probably didn’t understand why Chen Ping’an had to meddle in the chaos of Old Dragon City.

Actually, the principle was simple. If both sides were roughly evenly matched and their paths differed, each acting according to their own principles, then they would fight with all their might, using schemes and open strategies, with life and death on the line. Chen Ping’an could accept that.

But the heads of Cao Qinglang’s parents, casually thrown to the ground by Zhou Shi and Crow Girl, dripping with blood.

And the little girl from the herb shop who died at the hands of the Fang family scion.

No matter how many reasons and excuses Ding Ying or the Fang family had to convince themselves and the world, these three individuals should not have suffered such a calamity.

At that moment, Chen Ping’an did not yet know that Qi Jingchun, while drinking cheap wine at Li Huai’s house, had said to Li Er, “A true hero throws punches at the strong.” He only knew that before ascending, A Liang had said to all of them: “The freedom of the weak should be the boundary of any true strong person.”

The world is full of joys and sorrows, separations and reunions, countless, each with its own hardships and fortunes. No two leaves are the same, and there are no two identical rivers.

But some principles are universal.

Lu Tai, in Flying Eagle Fort, said to the pitiful woman with a “ghost fetus in her heart”: “The world is boring; better not to come.”

Chen Ping’an thought it over and over. It wasn’t that the world was boring, but that there were too many people unwilling to listen to reason.

Good people suffer losses and can only console themselves that suffering is a blessing, warn themselves to offend gentlemen rather than villains. The wicked do evil without knowing it, or even know it and still do evil.

Chen Ping’an sat on the long bench. The main hall was still deliberating every detail. The Zhao clan yin spirit was familiar with the forces of Old Dragon City, so Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang acted as one side, while the yin spirit put himself in the enemy’s shoes, simulating attacks on the Dust Shop from the Fu family’s perspective at various angles and with various troop strengths. Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang responded to each move.

Zhu Lian was under the eaves, flipping through a pornographic book that he cherished most. It was a new book not bought long ago, but he had already worn it out by reading it repeatedly. He was muttering, “A work of conscience! A work of conscience!” The poor-quality printed book, with a clearly fake author’s name, had a long list of “masterpieces” by fellow enthusiasts on the last page, along with a few lines of insightful commentary. So tonight, the old man closed the book again and sincerely sighed, “Good people live safely all their lives.”

Having said that, the stooped old man turned to Chen Ping’an with an embarrassed smile: “Young master, your servant was presumptuous. I’ll be more careful in the future.”

Chen Ping’an waved his hand with a smile, reminding him, “Remember to keep that matter secret.”

Zhu Lian said guiltily, “It was your servant’s lack of knowledge. I’ve been feeling guilty these days; how dare I leak even a bit.”

Chen Ping’an didn’t respond.

Earlier, on the Tianque Peak ferry, Chen Ping’an had thought about sending a letter to the Inverted Mountain to the Crane Inn, asking the innkeeper to pass it to the sword-carrying man, to see if it could be sent to the Sword Qi Great Wall for Miss Ning. But every time he picked up the brush, he struggled. He didn’t know how to write the letter. In the end, he went to Zhu Lian, who could say the line “When love stirs, it goes clang.” But Zhu Lian, whom he thought was a romantic, turned out to be exactly what Sui Youbian considered him: an old lecher. His suggestions either gave Chen Ping’an goosebumps or made him break out in a cold sweat, so he gave up.

In the courtyard, Sui Youbian drew her sword and flicked the blade.

She listened to the clinking sound.

This least likable woman among the group, for once, had a rare smile.

Chen Ping’an said with a smile, “Sui Youbian, that’s fine. Why are you always frowning? If there’s an opportunity, I’ll introduce you to some sword immortals.”

It came from the heart, within bounds.

Sui Youbian sheathed her sword, turned to Chen Ping’an, and sneered, “So the fox’s tail is showing? What, do you want me to warm your bed?”

Chen Ping’an laughed, “No, no. I’m timid.”

Zhu Lian said with a smirk, “Willing to follow the master up to the Heavenly Terrace, to chat with immortals and sweep the fallen petals—good poem, good poem. Young master, are you the master or the immortal?”

The moment Chen Ping’an heard that lithe flattery from that old bastard Zhu Lian, he knew trouble was coming. Sure enough, Sui Youbian’s face turned icy cold, murderous. She was probably deciding which one to kill first.

Chen Ping’an and Zhu Lian almost simultaneously fled—one dashing into the house, the other running into the front shop.

Sui Youbian snorted and returned to her room. Pei Qian was already asleep. Having grown up alone, accustomed to being tossed about with no one to care, often sleeping in the open or on stone lions outside wealthy homes, her sleeping posture was a complete mess—limbs splayed out, unable to keep the blanket warm. Sui Youbian frowned, walked over quietly, adjusted the girl’s limbs, and tucked in the blanket.

Sui Youbian lit a lamp and sat alone at the table, silent, with only her sword for company.

That night, Chen Ping’an slept in the shop, on a floor mat, sleeping lightly.

In the courtyard, Zheng Dafeng often fed the four punches.

Chen Ping’an closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of fist intent flowing, sometimes light, sometimes heavy, rippling faintly in his heart like knocking on a door.

Nothing happened in the alley that night.

The Fu family still had some face. Moreover, with battle imminent, even if someone had the strength to enter the alley and provoke Zheng Dafeng, it would be slapping the Fu family’s face. And now, the face of the Old Dragon City Fu family was almost equal to the face of the Yunlin Jiang clan. If it weren’t so, Fu Qi would not have personally challenged Zheng Dafeng to a duel at Climbing Dragon Terrace.

How many immortal weapons Fu Qi could use was a key point in their earlier discussion in the main hall.

The Fu family scion, at the Golden Core Realm, could use semi-immortal weapons that were extremely difficult to control and might even backfire. This was already a strange matter, but over time, outsiders had just accepted it.

Chen Ping’an woke up early. Zheng Dafeng was squatting at the main hall door, drinking porridge. Pei Qian squatted beside him, whispering, somehow having become close.

Lu Baixiang was in the room playing the zither, with the resonance of high mountains and flowing water.

Wei Xian was in the courtyard practicing the six-step footwork he had secretly learned from Chen Ping’an. Sui Youbian was no better; she was practicing the sword oven stance.

Zhu Lian was more considerate, bringing Chen Ping’an a large bowl of white porridge, saying it was his own cooking. Chen Ping’an sat on the long bench, drinking the porridge as the sky lightened, feeling refreshed.

He opened the front door of the shop. The Dust and Herb Apothecary was open for business. As for customers, there were indeed some early in the morning.

After opening the door, Chen Ping’an started practicing his steps and punches in the alley, going back and forth until he reached the corner. Then he turned back. On his third round of punches, a man and a woman came into view.

One familiar face was not surprising; the other, a less familiar woman who had left a deep impression on Chen Ping’an, appeared unexpectedly.

The young man was Fan Er. Beside him was a young woman in a green robe. This was the woman he had encountered on the Dragon Walking Canal underground, when their two ferries passed each other, and she had shown off her ability to levitate a wine jug.

Fan Er saw Chen Ping’an from a distance and laughed, “Chen Ping’an, dare to fight with me, Fan Er of the Fourth Realm?”

Chen Ping’an stopped at the shop door and shook his head. “I dare not.”

“You and I, both grandmasters of the Fourth Realm, meeting on a narrow path without a pinnacle battle—wouldn’t that leave the world with one less regret!”

Fan Er started with a wild flurry of strange punches, shouting and screaming, rushing at Chen Ping’an.

Chen Ping’an rubbed his forehead, then slowly walked forward, putting on a show of a “pinnacle battle of grandmasters” with Fan Er.

Fortunately, Fan Er had only run a dozen steps before the green-robed woman grabbed him by the collar and tossed him behind her. “Stop making a fool of yourself here. Go play on Climbing Dragon Terrace if you want.”

Fan Er obediently walked behind her, winking at Chen Ping’an.

Chen Ping’an stopped and asked, puzzled, “Are you Fan Er’s sister, Fan Junmao?”

Fan Junmao also had a wine jug at her waist. She kept walking and sneered, “I wish I didn’t have such a brother, but I can’t control my father and second mother’s loving embraces.”

Fan Er snickered without a care.

Chen Ping’an sighed inwardly, then was relieved. Only with this kind of temperament could Fan Junmao earn Fan Er’s genuine liking and respect. If she were a gentle, refined lady, Fan Er might still like her, but he wouldn’t feel such deep admiration for his sister.

Fan Junmao had no intention of entering the shop. She pointed a finger. “Fan Er, go inside.”

Fan Er yelped twice and scurried into the shop. As he passed Chen Ping’an, he risked a warning: “My condolences.”

Chen Ping’an was surprised. “Miss Fan, you couldn’t be…”

Before he finished, Fan Junmao nodded. “You guessed right. It’s me. Last time we met, you were going south, and I was going north, to your hometown Pearl Grotto Heaven. The person I saw was that Old Man Yang. He wasn’t very concerned about Zheng Dafeng—said he could live or die on his own in Old Dragon City. But he did mention you specifically, saying if I was interested, I could observe you more.”

Regarding Old Man Yang’s attitude toward Zheng Dafeng, Zheng Dafeng didn’t want to deceive Chen Ping’an on this matter. He had made it clear the previous night that the old man had left a harsh warning: even if his worthless disciple died, he must not reveal even a hint of their background.

Thus, all Fu Nanhua knew of Zheng Dafeng was that he was the slacker gatekeeper of Pearl Grotto Heaven.

Fan Junmao shouted, “Fan Er, throw a chair out. Remember, a chair, not a bench.”

Fan Er answered, and sure enough, he carried a chair to the front shop and tossed it out the door.

Fan Junmao caught it and placed it against the wall across from the shop. She sat down, leaned back, and tilted the chair, rocking it back and forth. She said lazily, “Zheng Dafeng probably can’t figure it out. Fu Donghai planned this, and Fu Qi didn’t know. It was that ambitious but talentless fool Fu Donghai’s own doing. Fu Qi knows some inside stories about Pearl Grotto Heaven and genuinely wanted to win over Zheng Dafeng. He even brought that long-legged woman, Fu Chunhua, to find Zheng Dafeng previously. Too bad Zheng Dafeng rejected her advances. Even so, Fu Qi regarded Zheng Dafeng as a crossing dragon and decided not to provoke him as long as he stayed in the small pond of the Fan family. But Fu Donghai caused a huge disaster, and that old woman of the Yunlin Jiang clan had to meddle, turning what Fu Qi could have explained or dealt with behind closed doors as a ‘misunderstanding’ into a matter of face for the Jiang clan. Now what? Now there must be a duel to the death at Climbing Dragon Terrace. Otherwise, the Fu family, having just married into the Jiang clan, would slap the Jiang clan in the face. If you were the ancestor of the Yunlin Jiang clan, what would you do?”

Chen Ping’an replied, “Children have their own fortunes. Face is not greater than reason.”

Fan Junmao seemed shocked by this answer. She took off her wine jug. “Good thing I wasn’t drinking just now, or I’d have choked.”

Chen Ping’an sat on the threshold. “Although I have some grudges with Sun Jiashu, I think among the major surnames of Old Dragon City, the Sun family’s business ethics are the most upright.”

Fan Junmao took a sip of wine, a playful look in her eyes. “So the Fan family doesn’t impress you?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “With Fan Er like this, the Fan family’s way must not be bad. But when too many people have a say in the ancestral hall, each has their own agenda. The head of the family must take care of all aspects, making it hard to keep his hands clean, even having to compromise. I understand that. But regarding Zheng Dafeng, the Fan family was indeed not kind-hearted enough. If, hypothetically, I were to do business with the Fan family in the future, unless Fan Er personally handled it, I wouldn’t feel at ease. But with the Sun family, I’d actually feel more assured if Sun Jiashu himself didn’t get involved.”

Fan Junmao tilted her head, smacking her lips. “You’re not stupid either. Why does Old Man Yang say you’re too unintelligent?”

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “It’s been years since I left home. Besides growing taller, I suppose my brain has grown a bit too.”

Fan Junmao nodded. “You’ve grown a bit of brain, that’s true. But when faced with big matters, you’re still too unintelligent.”

Chen Ping’an was not offended and went straight to the point. “Can we start discussing business now?”

Fan Junmao sneered. “Just from the list Zheng Dafeng gave me, I knew your refining failed. Not only are you a layman, but your ambition outstrips your ability. If I’m not mistaken, the quintessential object you tried to refine with the water phase of the Five Elements must have been quite high-ranked, and the refining incantation and cauldron were good too? Then do you know that besides the inevitable failure, once you fail, the accumulated problems will be deep and the consequences endless?”

Chen Ping’an’s face turned serious.

Fan Junmao laughed. “I know you don’t believe in bad luck. Business is business. I don’t care if you make a profit or a loss after buying my goods. Rest assured, I’ve brought a pile of heavenly treasures and earthly rarities. I want that golden core of the old flood dragon at Flood Dragon Gully! Such rare goods with no market price have indeed tempted me a bit. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come myself; Fan Er would have sufficed.”

Fan Junmao tilted her head and took a hearty gulp of wine. “You guessed right. I’m going to overcharge you, take advantage of your crisis, and it’s going to be a vicious cut. But can you, Chen Ping’an, not buy?”

Chen Ping’an tossed out the porcelain bottle containing the old flood dragon’s golden core, which Fan Junmao caught with one hand.

Chen Ping’an asked, “I heard from Zheng Dafeng that you can control the sea of clouds above Old Dragon City. If I can offer something even better, would you be willing to intervene, regardless of the outcome of the Climbing Dragon Terrace battle, to save Zheng Dafeng’s life?”

“Fan Er carries a distance artifact I gave him. He should be pulling out the goods by now. Since I’m a descendant of the Fan family, in business I still follow some integrity. The goods are all good stuff, just a bit expensive. There’s nothing else to complain about. Even if you go to the Fu family, Fu Qi can only give you similar quality goods.”

After saying this, Fan Junmao tossed the porcelain bottle lightly in her hand and smiled. “Even if I break the rules and choose to intervene, I’d at most have a fifty percent chance of saving that worthless life of Zheng Dafeng’s. And frankly, I don’t want to at all.”

Chen Ping’an was about to speak.

Zheng Dafeng had already sat on the threshold, beside Chen Ping’an, like two door gods of the Dust Shop. Zheng Dafeng said with a grin, “Enough. Asking her is useless.”

Fan Junmao nodded, flipped her wrist, and the bottle vanished. “Indeed.”

Chen Ping’an was once again forcefully interrupted by Zheng Dafeng, who even shook his head at him, signaling him not to take out that thing.

Fan Junmao’s eyes lit up. “Oh? There really is something good? Let me see. If I think it’s worth it, I might consider acting. A tough fight toughens the bones. It’s not a bad thing.”

Zheng Dafeng suddenly stood up and said, “Enough! Fan Junmao, is it really hopeless for Chen Ping’an to refine his quintessential object?”

Obviously, he was changing the subject to stop Fan Junmao’s curiosity from spreading.

Fan Junmao looked bored, slumped back in her chair, and shook her wine jug. “Do you really think refining a quintessential object is like a low-fifth-realm Daoist casually refining a few nourishing qi pills? Do you know what ‘heaven’s timing, earthly advantages, and human harmony’ means? Or does Chen Ping’an think he’s some uniquely favored, immensely blessed lucky fellow? That a layman can find a spot and successfully refine a quintessential object on the first try? If you succeed, Chen Ping’an, I’ll gouge out my eyes and give them to you.”

Zheng Dafeng turned to Chen Ping’an and said, “Then don’t refine it!”

Zheng Dafeng rarely looked so serious. It had been rare in his life.

Chen Ping’an had no choice but to nod. “Fine. I know my luck in gambling.”

Fan Junmao stood up. “Alright, that’s it then. Zheng Dafeng, fight well. I’ll be watching from above. Remember to die heroically.”

Zheng Dafeng returned to his usual self, rubbing his hands and grinning. “Miss Fan, what color dress will you wear that day on the sea of clouds? This green robe looks good, but you should change outfits once in a while.”

Fan Junmao was not an ordinary woman. She chuckled. “Even if I stand naked on Climbing Dragon Terrace, you won’t be able to open your eyes. Maybe Fu Qi will pierce you with a sword first, still unsatisfied, then step on your head and crush it. Your eyeballs will pop out, bang, fly from the terrace into the sea of clouds, and I’ll catch them with two fingers, pop, and they’ll explode again.”

Zheng Dafeng quickly begged for mercy. “Miss Fan, please say something nice for me, will you?”

Fan Junmao laughed heartily and walked away down the alley.

After confirming Fan Junmao had left, Zheng Dafeng said grimly, “That demonic core—do you know that at the last moment, if you had taken it out, whether to Fu Qi, the Yunlin Jiang clan, or even any great cultivator at the Immortal Realm, they would all be tempted? You could have traded it for your life. What did you get by giving it to Fan Junmao today? Even if she intervened, it was only a fifty percent chance, and that’s for me alone. Even if I got saved, how would you all leave Old Dragon City?”

Chen Ping’an suddenly smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be your preacher, Zheng Dafeng.”

Zheng Dafeng rolled his eyes and sat back on the threshold. “You think I’d want that? It’s a matter of me never being able to hold my head up in front of Li Er.”

Chen Ping’an tucked his hands into his sleeves and stared at the wall. “But being a protector for the current Zheng Dafeng, I’m willing.”

Suddenly, Fan Junmao “sat back” on that chair, laughing heartily. “Ha! There’s an even more impressive demonic core! Eleventh realm? No, a Twelfth Realm great demon’s core! Must be that great demon’s core from the Fuyao Sect in Tongye Continent! Interesting, interesting!”

Zheng Dafeng’s face changed drastically. He stared hard at the green-robed woman. “I’m not joking. Don’t you dare plan anything for that demonic core!”

Fan Junmao extended a finger and twirled it lightly. Wisps of mist gathered from the wall behind her, coalescing into a small cloud at her fingertip.

If she hadn’t planned ahead, she wouldn’t have heard Zheng Dafeng’s heartfelt words.

Tsk tsk. Even a guy like Zheng Dafeng was willing to open his heart to someone?

Fan Junmao squinted at the young man.

She took a sip of wine, smug. “A Twelfth Realm great demon’s core can be refined in three ways: large, medium, and small. Large-scale refining is no less difficult than forging a quintessential object. You, Chen Ping’an, can forget it. I should take it. I control the sea of clouds above your heads. In fact, the Fu family are just caretakers. When I’m not around, they can use some. When I am, even if Fu Qi wanted to use this little cloud on my fingertip, he couldn’t.”

She wiped her mouth, unable to hide the heat in her eyes. “Give me that demonic core, and I can devour the water transport of three sides of the sea around Old Dragon City. Choose the right moment, and heaven’s timing, earthly advantages, and human harmony will all be aligned. What do you say? Give it to me, and I’ll have a fifty percent chance of keeping Zheng Dafeng alive. Since this cheap life was going to be lost anyway, saving him once isn’t a big deal.”

Chen Ping’an asked with a smile, “May I ask, Miss Fan, what about medium and small refining?”

Fan Junmao raised an eyebrow. “Small refining is easy. Best for soaking in wine. As for effects, those who drink it will know!”

Chen Ping’an smiled and nodded. “Alright, then I’ll use ‘medium refining.’ Thank you for the advice, Miss Fan.”

Fan Junmao stood up, her gaze sharp.

Zheng Dafeng stood up and said solemnly, “Fan Junmao! Don’t forget, I have a yin spirit here! If you dare act, I’ll ensure your realm stagnates for at least a hundred years!”

Fan Junmao paced back and forth along the alley right opposite the shop door, her eyes fixed on the young man named Chen Ping’an.

Finally, Fan Junmao stamped her foot, shot into the air, and vanished into the sea of clouds. She was in a foul mood, shouting as she waved her sleeves, grabbing clouds and smashing them against each other.

She tossed around for a while, then fell flat on her back, lying on the sea of clouds. “If I could just do small refining and soak it in wine, I’d never have to worry for the rest of my life.”

She wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth and began rolling around on the clouds.

Back in the alley, Zheng Dafeng wiped the sweat from his forehead and glanced at Chen Ping’an, who remained still. “You’ve got some nerve!”

Chen Ping’an didn’t change expression. “Want to see my back?”

Zheng Dafeng actually stepped over the threshold and looked. Sure enough, Chen Ping’an was soaked in sweat…

Zheng Dafeng sat on the threshold, sighing. “I never imagined that charcoal-black boy who used to stare at the scenery outside his door would become what he is today.”

Chen Ping’an took off his Nurturing Sword Gourd and took small sips of wine. “Neither did I.”

After a moment of silence.

Chen Ping’an turned and asked with a smile, “For better or for worse?”

Zheng Dafeng thought it over. “Not bad either way.”

Then Zheng Dafeng slapped himself across the face. “You’ve been with Pei Qian and Zhu Lian for only a day, and already you’ve learned to flatter?”

He stood up, muttering, and walked back to the courtyard behind the shop, calling the four to spar. This time, all four felt the heavy pressure from Zheng Dafeng. It didn’t feel like he was feeding them punches; more like he was practicing on them.

Fan Er ran out of the shop with a smile and sat beside Chen Ping’an. “The stuff is all in the room.”

Chen Ping’an hummed in acknowledgment. “I probably won’t refine my quintessential object, but I want to refine another small thing. You should go back soon. This place isn’t safe. Don’t cause extra trouble for your family.”

Fan Er didn’t drag things out. “I’ll find another chance to come to the shop.”

Chen Ping’an stood up and saw Fan Er to the corner of the alley, where a carriage was already waiting. The coachman was the old Golden Core sword cultivator from Osmanthus Island ferry, Ma Zhi, whose lifebound flying sword was Cool Shade.

As sword cultivators go, a qi refiner at sixty might be old, but a hundred-year-old sword cultivator is still young.

Back then, Old Sword Cultivator Ma Zhi had even complained to Chen Ping’an that if the Fan family were willing to spend half their wealth to fully support him, a Golden Core sword cultivator, he could have broken through to the Nascent Soul realm.

Chen Ping’an didn’t leave the alley. He smiled and waved to the old sword cultivator. Ma Zhi nodded with a smile.

That night, Chen Ping’an lay on the rooftop, holding a jade token he didn’t take out often. He stared at it, crystal clear under the moonlight.

Now, Chen Ping’an didn’t have much immortal money, but his belongings were not few. This jade token was one of his earliest possessions, acquired before his first journey away from home to Great Sui.

He did not refine the Water Character Seal.

On the road of life, some dangers are known, and it’s right to face them. But some temptations must be heeded by that old saying: “If fate gives you eight feet, don’t ask for ten.”

Chen Ping’an placed the jade token on his body, covered it with both hands, and closed his eyes.

The Heart-Devoted Sword had been lent to Sui Youbian, but without Sui Youbian, that sword was still far from enough for Chen Ping’an. Too bad the Long Qi Sword had been left in Lotus Flower Blessed Land; it could have been used against enemies.

If only someone could lend me a sword.

But such good fortune doesn’t exist in this world.

Until the day before Major Cold, the Dust and Herb Apothecary remained calm as clouds and light wind. Not a single customer came.

But instead of customers, a seemingly empty transcontinental ferry docked at the isolated island ferry port.

The Lord of Old Dragon City, Fu Qi; the teaching matron of the Yunlin Jiang clan, an old Nascent Soul sword cultivator; and the orthodox disciple of Tongye Sect, Du Yan, stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for someone to disembark from the ferry.

Finally, only an unremarkable old man stepped off the ship.

If the three who had pursued the great demon of Fuyao Sect had been present, they would have recognized this person.

The surname Du of Tongye Sect, the revival patriarch.

The old man, in plain clothes, walked leisurely off the ferry. When he saw the crowd at the dock, he greeted them amiably, exchanged some pleasantries, with no trace of the vicious aura that Jiang Shangzhen had attributed to “that old freak of Tongye Sect.”

But when the old man looked toward the direction of Old Dragon City and spoke of serious matters, everyone immediately felt as if a mountain were pressing down on them. “A Ninth Realm martial artist?”

Fu Qi smiled bitterly. “Yes.”

The old man wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “The Great Li dynasty authorized it. Your Old Dragon City Fu family gave our Tongye Sect four ferry boats on the Inverted Mountain route. That’s no small gift.”