# Chapter 366: Sword Spirit Goes North, Left and Right Go South
(Chapter Two.)
The River of Time still flowed slowly past this small heaven and earth, while at the sky's edge, the friction and clash between two types of heavenly rules burst forth into fascinating colors like multicolored glazed tiles.
Chen Ping'an and the sword spirit sat side by side on the edge of the collapsed city wall, legs dangling over the outside.
Chen Ping'an lowered his head to look at his abdomen. The bleeding had stopped, and the flesh at the wound had roughly healed, but the internal organs inside—a tangled mess—still ached enough to make one tremble.
A wound inflicted by a flying ascension realm cultivator's natal immortal artifact, even if far from a full-force strike, and even if it merely pierced through Chen Ping'an's abdomen—the aftereffects were still unimaginably severe.
In the distance, everyone stood frozen in place.
Only the teaching matron whose natal flying sword had been broken was most bizarre—she kept swaying back and forth, the motion extremely small, yet she looked especially pitiful.
Sun Jiashu had been knocked unconscious by his clan elder and was now supported by the old steward at his side.
The vast majority of people wore expressions of gratified joy.
From what she said, Zheng Dafeng, whose spine had been broken, had completely lost that pure true qi cultivated and refined by a ninth-tier martial artist, truly reduced to a cripple. However, some foundation of his physical body remained, equivalent to a fifth or sixth-tier martial artist's physique. Zheng Dafeng had already been sent by Old Master Wen to the Dust Pharmacy; his life was not in danger, but even if he could get back up from his sickbed, the rest of his life would be worse than death.
She also said that the old scholar had claimed he would clean up this mess himself, that he would absolutely never let Chen Ping'an suffer a loss—whatever Du Mao had swallowed, he would have to spit out even more, and the matter wouldn't end so simply.
Together, they watched the dome of this small heaven and earth. She suddenly spoke: "I have to go. The sword-honing cannot be delayed for even a moment."
Chen Ping'an remembered something and said softly, "I have an oilpaper umbrella that can conceal heavenly secrets. Sister Immortal, would you take it? According to what was said before, even Old Master Wen's archenemy has expressed his stance. From now on, I shouldn't have to run into old monsters like Du Mao anymore. As long as it's not an upper-five-realm cultivator, I can handle them, and I won't actively provoke anyone either. This time helping Zheng Dafeng in Old Dragon City was a special case."
She hummed in acknowledgment, reaching out to touch Chen Ping'an's head. "Alright. You haven't given me anything yet."
Chen Ping'an blinked.
She stated matter-of-factly: "You mean that piece of Dragon-Slaying Platform in your bamboo basket back when we crossed the bridge? That wasn't a gift you gave me—I stole it."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Sister Immortal, whatever you want—the oilpaper umbrella doesn't count. I'll give you something else. I've traveled a long road, and I'll keep walking it. Maybe I'll come across something you like."
She turned sideways, then leaned back, laughing. "Not afraid that girl will get angry?"
Chen Ping'an's smile was radiant. "At worst, I'll let her beat me up."
She curved two fingers and gently tapped Chen Ping'an's forehead. "The young man has grown up."
Chen Ping'an also turned sideways, gesturing to compare their heights with his hand. "Right?"
She lightly bumped his shoulder with hers, smiling. "Really like that girl? How do you like her?"
Chen Ping'an thought for a moment. His pale face flushed slightly. He braced his hands on the ground, looking into the distance, speaking shyly and softly: "How could I possibly say that out loud?"
She clicked her tongue. "Oh my, oh my—I'm really getting jealous."
Chen Ping'an still gazed into the distance, shaking his head. "No, you're not. Sister Immortal is the best."
The tall woman smiled and stood up. "Come on, let's go to that pharmacy and get the umbrella. Oh, right—this corpse on the ground is Du Mao's yang spirit avatar. You can collect it. At least it's the outer shell of a twelfth-realm immortal's body. It can be sold for money."
Chen Ping'an glanced at the "Du Mao" on the ground.
She laughed. "It can sell for quite a bit of money. You could even have someone inhabit it—someone like Great Li's National Preceptor Cui Chan."
Chen Ping'an stored it in his inch-measuring artifact.
She smiled knowingly.
Although Chen Ping'an's internal energy centers were in shambles, his movement was unimpeded. But fighting was out of the question—his current strength was probably inferior to when he had only just entered the third tier of martial arts.
Chen Ping'an stood up, looking down at his tattered Golden Nectar Dharma Robe. The heartache was fiercer than physical pain. She held the three pieces of Dragon-Slaying Platform that had originally been placed in the pure white jade tablet within his inch-measuring artifact, and said, "It's fine. It can be repaired—just a few bags of gold essence coins. It might even be upgraded to half-immortal artifact rank in one go. Old Man Yang has to chip in some, and that Du-what's-his-name has to figure out a way to contribute too."
Chen Ping'an nodded.
She strode forward, walking through the great breach in the city wall. "Don't lose heart. The end of the Great Path is still far off. When the time comes, I'll still be by your side."
Chen Ping'an quickened his pace to follow. She grabbed his shoulder, leapt out of the wall opening, and after Chen Ping'an pointed out the direction, she swept toward the Dust Pharmacy in Old Dragon City's inner city.
Because the old scholar had not yet lifted the restrictions on Old Dragon City, everything remained frozen in silence.
They landed in the alley outside the pharmacy. Pei Qian, holding her walking staff, was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan. After she had finished crazily performing her self-created sword technique, she had discovered that the Zhao-surnamed yin spirit was like a wooden dummy—completely motionless. No matter how she called out, it didn't work. Those black smoke tendrils were like ice awls; she grabbed a wisp with both hands, but couldn't pull it free no matter how hard she tried. Finally, she dropped her walking staff, crouched on the ground, and cried while clutching her head. After crying, she went mad, running out of the alley. But she stopped at the corner of the street, remembering Chen Ping'an's instructions. So she paced back and forth there, then crouched down again, heart-wrenchingly crying and calling out "Dad" and "Master" until her voice went hoarse. When she couldn't cry anymore, she slapped that talisman onto her forehead to steel herself, then, with her tear-streaked little face all scrunched up, she was about to take that step forward to find Chen Ping'an!
Then a familiar voice sounded behind her. "Come back."
Pei Qian turned around and saw Chen Ping'an smiling at her. Caught between grievance and joy, she ran toward him, crying and laughing at once, and embraced him.
The tall woman stood behind Chen Ping'an. Watching this, she found it amusing—they were quite alike.
As for the strange look in this charcoal-black little girl's eyes, her background and experience made her understand the principles behind it better than anyone.
This aura was called "Eyes Holding Sun and Moon."
Of course, it wasn't the "orthodox" sun and moon of the Haoran Heaven, but rather the essence of sun and moon from certain cave heaven blessed lands. Even so, a ninth-tier martial artist or a terrestrial immortal still could not bear this overwhelming fortune.
Why the little girl remained unharmed didn't interest her. What strange things, what extraordinary people hadn't she seen? So many that she had long grown numb. Only the number who had died under that old sword strip was countless.
Only then did Pei Qian notice the tall woman in white robes. Her eyes went wide, her expression dazed.
The sword spirit smiled and said to Chen Ping'an, "There are very few pure martial arts vessels like this left in the world. Why haven't you taught her?"
Chen Ping'an pressed his hand on Pei Qian's little head. "Before, I was afraid that if she learned martial arts, she wouldn't understand the gravity of things and would easily cause trouble. From now on, I'll teach her myself."
Pei Qian began involuntarily backing away.
Uncontrollably—she probably didn't even know what she was doing.
The sword spirit narrowed her eyes. "It seems this isn't an ordinary cave heaven blessed land newly found by the Confucians. Perhaps one of them was even personally knocked down into the mortal world by me back then?"
Chen Ping'an was completely bewildered.
The sword spirit laughed. "No need to understand this for now. Old rotten sesame seed millet—thinking about it just annoys me."
She turned and walked toward the pharmacy.
Only then did Pei Qian snap out of it, timidly hiding behind Chen Ping'an.
That little oilpaper umbrella, called the Parasol Tree Fan by the old Daoist of the Eastern Sea, was leaning diagonally by the door. Bending down, she picked it up and instantly snapped it open. A jade tablet fell out—it was precisely the direct lineage jade tablet of Taiping Mountain's ancestral hall.
She grabbed it, glanced at it, and crushed it to powder. "What kind of junk is this?"
Chen Ping'an stomped his foot, flustered. "I still have to return that to Taiping Mountain!"
The sword spirit smiled slyly. "Why didn't you say so earlier? It's fine—just say I broke it. Tell that Taiping Mountain to come find me in Lizhu Cave Heaven. I'll compensate them."
She thought to herself: That's assuming they'd dare to accept.
Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "Forget it. I'll write another letter to that old celestial master of Taiping Mountain. It should be fine."
Holding the umbrella, she nodded. "Then I'm off."
Chen Ping'an had a thousand words to say but didn't know where to begin. In the end, he just smiled and nodded.
She walked up to Chen Ping'an, bent down slightly, pressed her forehead against his, and said softly, "Chen Ping'an, meeting you is my good fortune."
After saying this, she gripped the oilpaper umbrella and transformed into a white rainbow, breaking through the sky dome of Old Dragon City, breaking through the sea of clouds where Fan Junmao lay collapsed. After pausing midair, she turned north, returning to the Dragon-Slaying Platform in Lizhu Cave Heaven.
At the pharmacy door, Pei Qian tugged at Chen Ping'an's sleeve, terrified. "This is truly the most powerful immortal sister I've ever seen! In her presence, I didn't even dare open my mouth to flatter her with compliments."
Chen Ping'an laughed. "There are always people better than you, and heavens beyond heavens. So after learning martial arts, you must never be arrogant."
Pei Qian nodded vigorously, then suddenly asked, "She's that 'girl,' right? Then next time we meet, should I call her 'Mother'?"
Chen Ping'an was just about to step over the threshold when he stumbled.
Pei Qian suddenly understood. "I should call her 'Master's Wife'!"
Chen Ping'an quickly turned around and covered this brat's mouth, glaring. "Don't talk nonsense!"
Pei Qian blinked her eyes. "Don't say it out loud—just keep it in my heart?"
Chen Ping'an, his face dark, grabbed her by the ear. Pei Qian tilted her head, stood on tiptoe, and yelped in pain as Chen Ping'an dragged her into the courtyard behind the pharmacy. He finally let go.
Pei Qian crouched on the ground, rubbing her ear.
Chen Ping'an went alone to the side room of Zheng Dafeng's main house. He saw the man lying on the bed, unconscious. His external injuries had also only been stopped.
But he was far more miserable than Chen Ping'an. Back in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land, when Chen Ping'an had used Zhong Qiu's peak boxing frame and "Schooling the Great Dragon" to break through in one go, the man on this bed now had his entire great dragon spine shattered.
Chen Ping'an pulled up a chair, sat in the dim little room, and stared blankly at Zheng Dafeng.
Pei Qian tiptoed to the door of the side room. Seeing this scene, she hesitated, then quietly left.
She sat on the steps, cupping her cheeks in her hands.
She had never seen Chen Ping'an so... heartbroken.
It made her a little sad too. She blew on the yellow talisman on her forehead.
The talisman wouldn't blow away. The sadness wouldn't blow away either.
When a person grows up, does it always become like this?
---
In an instant, the River of Time flowing along the southern end of Bottle Gourd Continent returned to normal, surging into Old Dragon City from all directions.
But aside from golden core and nascent soul cultivators—those worldly earthly immortals—ordinary people simply couldn't perceive this subtlety.
A moment later, the clever ones in Old Dragon City finally realized something was strange.
Chen Ping'an's disappearance was normal enough—his abdomen had been pierced by that Sword-Swallowing Boat, so he'd vanished from sight. But that Du Mao had disappeared too, and that Zheng Dafeng was also gone—that was a bit harder to explain.
Moreover, on their side, where they had been watching from afar, there had also been unexpected developments.
For instance, the Fu family was most nervous. Aside from the "Number One of Tongye Continent" in the eyes of Bottle Gourd Continent, the most invincible person in Old Dragon City, that teaching matron, had collapsed to the ground and lost consciousness on the spot, her blood flowing freely.
It was clearly a terrifying scene where her Great Path had been damaged at its very foundation.
Fu Qi swept over from the Dragon-Climbing Platform, crouched down, his face ashen. He was utterly bewildered. He resented that Fan Junmao's presence had prevented him from understanding everything today. He was certain he would have glimpsed the inner truth of the earlier anomalies. After examining the condition of this old woman from the Yunlin Jiang clan, he was even more shocked in his heart. Her natal flying sword—destroyed? But Fu Qi didn't reveal this celestial secret. He said calmly, "She's been injured a little. Let's return to the manor first."
Fu Nanhua looked toward the city wall. Chen Ping'an was no longer in sight. Had he died somewhere in the outer city, or...?
Fu Donghai and Fu Chunhua exchanged glances again.
Witnessing this once-arrogant teaching matron being "injured a little" was no small piece of good news for the two who had yet to give up their designs on the city lord's seat.
Fu Nanhua asked softly, "Afterward?"
Fu Qi shook his head. "Don't bother with it. It's meaningless. Let's return first and figure out what exactly happened, why Du Mao disappeared. Not the East Gate—enter the city through the South Gate."
As the undisputed top power in Old Dragon City, and the Fu family, which was set to unify the city, their carriage actually chose to take the long way around, heading for the South Gate.
The most bewildered one was naturally Du Yan, still on the city wall—the direct descendant of the flying ascension realm Du Mao. He rubbed his eyes. Where was the clan elder? Where?!
His wife, Ding-shi, had mediocre cultivation aptitude but was calmer than Du Yan, who was at golden core perfection. "On Tongye Continent, the clan elder could act with impunity. What's this tiny Bottle Gourd Continent?"
Du Yan nodded, took her hand, and smiled. "I lost my composure. When this matter is concluded, our Tongye Sect will use Old Dragon City as a springboard, casting nets northward to gather the various immortal sects. Those who follow our Tongye Sect will prosper; those who oppose us will perish. When the time comes, I'll be in charge of one of the routes. You, my dear, will be your Ding family patriarch. From now on, Old Dragon City will only have two surnames—Fu and Ding."
The woman smiled radiantly.
The three surnames outside Old Dragon City—Ding, Fang, and Hou—had all sent their family retainers to intercept Zheng Dafeng's group.
This was a temporary arrangement by the Fu family. It had actually caught them somewhat off guard. They shouldn't have been so hasty and blatant. Ideally, they should have had one group outside the city, one in the outer city, and one in the inner city—three groups doing things in a more "appropriate manner," leaving no room for anyone to find fault. Not this crude tactic reminiscent of street brawling. But since the Fu family had abandoned all pretense of face, and their earlier alliance of four surnames—after the Sun family's Sun Jiashu and the Ding family's Du Yan had successively defected to the Fu family—and after learning of the Fu family's interception orders, they had no bargaining power or confidence left. Becoming Fu family vassals, eating the leftovers from the Fu family's table, was still better than being uprooted and eliminated entirely tonight.
Among the three clans' retinues, that young master surnamed Fang didn't feel the situation had changed. He was still looking forward to tonight's grand banquet, where they would make all the women from the Dust Pharmacy show their faces. Whoever drank a glass of wine could make them take off one piece of clothing!
After consulting among themselves, the leaders of the three surnames decided to follow the Fu family to the South City Gate. As for the retainers and guest elders responsible for the interception, they would not be restrained for now. They presumed that after collecting their heads, they would naturally meet up in the city.
Above the sea of clouds, Fan Junmao slowly awoke. As expected, her realm had dropped to golden core.
But she felt no resentment. After a great laugh, she glanced down at the route along the Dragon-Climbing Platform. There were still scattered skirmishes. She furrowed her brow, pressed her hand to her heart, and pointed down with two fingers of her other hand.
Within the sea of clouds, beams of light descended one after another.
Because she had drawn upon the fundamental fortune of the sea of clouds, Fan Junmao's strikes were not inferior to ordinary nascent soul cultivators.
The retainers and guests, who had already suffered heavy casualties, now only had five or six left. One by one, they were pierced through the head.
Only one of the Fan family's coachmen, serving as a suicide soldier, remained.
Four had gotten off the carriage. In the end, only Lu Baixiang, drenched in blood, and Wei Xian, wearing Sweet Dew Armor and least injured, boarded that carriage.
As for the martial lunatic Zhu Lian—he had died.
Sui Youbian had died in battle too.
Lu Baixiang had retrieved that Infatuation Sword, but not before one sword stab after another through the hearts of the corpses. Only then did he enter the carriage.
Within Old Dragon City, that great cultivator who had been able to travel his yin spirit afar during the time freeze—a short old man dressed like a wealthy merchant—was standing under a tree, bent over, laughing heartily with his hands on his belly, tears streaming from his eyes.
What a delight!
In the past thousand years, the old man had never laughed so heartily.
That old freak Du Mao—turns out he had his day too!
He had crossed continents this time with the intention of simply relaxing and meeting a fellow traveler. He never imagined he would encounter such a delightful affair.
This man, known on Tongye Continent but famous among certain small and medium immortal sects on Bottle Gourd Continent—especially among various female cultivators—as "One-Foot Spear," the most lavish spender among mountain guests, along with that "Jade-Faced Young Gentleman" from the Invincible Divine Fist Gang, often competed for the affections of some female cultivator during those illusory mountain gate divine abilities, throwing money around. Of course, it wasn't real fighting—it was throwing money, and not just snowflake coins, but small summer coins!
The old man restrained his smile, speaking seriously: "Today is a good day. I can't be stingy anymore. I have to outdo that fellow. I need to be generous, to show the proper style! I can't let that guy keep showing off. What a pity about that Miss Su Jia from Zhengyang Mountain—such a fine, handsome, and spirited girl. I was planning to make a personal trip to Zhengyang Mountain to give her a magical treasure. What a pity, what a regret... And that He Xiaoliang from the Divine Mandate Sect, the great immortal Miss He—how did she end up leaving Bottle Gourd Continent? I wanted to go see her, to catch a glimpse of her beauty. Even just a distant glance..."
---
Inside the side room of the Dust Pharmacy.
Chen Ping'an remained sitting on that chair. He had heard that even if the man on the sickbed could get up and walk again, he would be hunchbacked from then on.
He would be stooped for the rest of his life.
He had always been slovenly, and he wasn't even good-looking.
Thinking back to that year, at the great gate, watching those mountain immortals walk into the town, the carefree fellow had exclaimed with admiration, "That woman just now—her thighs could crush a man to death."
That day, the thin young man hadn't understood the underlying meaning of that crude remark, so he could only ask, "Has that madam practiced martial arts?"
At that time, that unserious fellow was already an eighth-tier martial artist.
Today.
Chen Ping'an said hoarsely, "Zheng Dafeng, I've walked such a long road and met many people in the martial world. You're the one with the hardest bones and the straightest spine. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry..."
At that moment, the former town gatekeeper lay in the blood-soaked bedding, silent and still.
---
On the sea outside the isolated island ferry in Old Dragon City, standing on an enormous golden gourd was a little Daoist boy, miserably extending both hands. A shabby old scholar had picked up a tree branch from somewhere and was "striking his palms."
The little Daoist boy's eyes were red as he complained bitterly, "Old Master Wen, this really has nothing to do with me! This time in Old Dragon City, I didn't harm Chen Ping'an. He brought that Du Mao on himself. I couldn't even calculate it—what realm is Du Mao? I couldn't just go to Old Dragon City and get myself killed! You're not being fair hitting me... Ow! It hurts! It hurts!"
If the old scholar hadn't heard this complaint, he might have been fine. But upon hearing it, he became even angrier and struck harder. "You ungrateful little bastard! Back then, who was it who called you brother? Who was it who walked arm in arm with you, chatting happily? Hm? Picking up chopsticks to eat, putting them down to curse your mother? That crooked-nosed Daoist priest taught you wrong—I'll straighten you out! Still trying to dodge? Stand still! Hold out your hands!"
The little Daoist boy obediently held out his hands. He really had nowhere to dodge. He wailed, "Old Master Wen, if you keep this up, I'm going to complain to my master! You're so partial to Chen Ping'an—my master will be partial to me too..."
The old scholar huffed, "Still talking back! As if I don't know what kind of rot is in that crooked-nosed Daoist's belly! The upper beam is crooked, the lower beam is twisted! If I don't beat you into submission today, I'll take your surname!"
The little Daoist boy burst into loud sobs. "Old Master Wen, we share the same surname! Even if we're not family, can't you let me off a little easier for the sake of this bit of karmic connection..."
The old scholar snorted coldly, threw away the tree branch, and lectured, "From now on, when you move to the Qingming Heaven, cause less trouble! With your little cleverness, it'll only bring disaster. Those Daoists in the White Jade Capital, with its twelve towers and five great cities—they enjoy their freedom as immortals, but that also means they won't follow the rules as much as in the Haoran Heaven. What they want least of all is the word 'rules.'"
The little Daoist boy sat down on the golden gourd, wiped his tears, and shook his hands vigorously. He looked up, curious. "My master didn't say anything about going to that heaven."
The old scholar glared. "What the hell do you know?"
The little Daoist boy said, "Oh. 'I know what the hell'—and then I know you're Old Master Wen..."
The old scholar gave a cold laugh, grabbed another branch that had drifted by with the sea current. The little Daoist boy stood up again, held out his hands, and began another round of strikes on his palms.
The little Daoist boy wished he could die.
This inconspicuous little dead branch, in the hands of this impoverished old man, was absolutely no worse than a sword immortal's flying sword.
The old scholar glanced toward the southwest, threw away the branch, and slapped the little Daoist boy on the head. "Get the hell out of here. From now on, keep your tail between your legs."
The golden gourd drifted away into the distance. The little Daoist boy standing on it turned his back to the old scholar, bent over, wiggled his butt, and turned his head to make a face.
The old scholar extended a finger and twisted it slightly. That branch shot through the air and precisely struck one of the little Daoist boy's butt cheeks.
The little Daoist boy pulled out the branch and threw it away, hopping and jumping as he hastily drove the sword-nurturing gourd beneath him to flee rapidly.
It seemed that this time, the impoverished old man was truly furious, so he was taking it out on him.
The little Daoist boy wiped the tears from his face. Small in stature but big in spirit, he grumbled angrily, "Damn it all! I'm never calling you 'brother' again!"
A whoosh.
The branch struck the other butt cheek.
Having gotten rid of that little bastard, the old scholar flickered toward the southwest and vanished.
Sword qi filled the sky.
The sea shook.
The old scholar asked no questions. Furious, he jumped up and slapped that sword cultivator hard on the head. Still unsatisfied, he slapped again and again. "You useless piece of trash! You couldn't protect Xiao Qi—fine, you had your excuses and reasons. You were far away, didn't know the situation in Lizhu Cave Heaven—fine. But now you can't even protect your own martial uncle right under your nose! Instead of studying books, you practice swordsmanship! Practice swordsmanship! Practice swordsmanship! What fucking swordsmanship! Do you know that you've harmed Chen Ping'an twice? Once, when your state of mind affected him, and once when you rashly gave him that twelfth-realm demon core! Chen Ping'an was this close—just this close—to suffering this undeserved disaster! Heard of Du Mao?! A shameless flying ascension realm cultivator who blocked Chen Ping'an in Old Dragon City! Your martial uncle is only a fifth-tier martial artist now! He came specifically for your martial uncle! All that about participating in Great Li's schemes for your sect, helping someone test the old divine lord—bullshit! He came to kill Chen Ping'an!"
In front of outsiders—even that little Daoist boy, even those two Confucian scholars guarding the sky dome—the old scholar's anger had been restrained, at least not so plainly revealed.
But before this sword cultivator, he held nothing back.
And that sword cultivator stood motionless, letting the old scholar, who was much shorter than him, jump up and slap him on the head over and over.
The old scholar cursed even as he hit. "And you—you just wash your hands of it and walk away! You, Zuo You, you're so carefree! Qi Jingchun couldn't match your carefree nature in a lifetime! This martial uncle can't match it either! No one can match your carefree nature, Zuo You! You're so carefree—why don't you ascend to heaven and get the hell out?!"
Zuo You stood there, not retaliating, not talking back.
Because it was also the first time in Zuo You's life that he had seen his teacher so angry and disappointed.
Even back then, when he had imprisoned himself in the academy's Meritorious Forest, and Zuo You You had stayed by his side, the teacher was still cheerful and didn't consider it hardship at all.
Even when the statues in the Confucian temple were repeatedly moved, taken out, and smashed to pieces.
The teacher was still indifferent—truly indifferent, not feigning ease.
He knew that his teacher had never been this kind of person.
Zuo You's expression was calm as he asked, "Teacher, what should your disciple do?"
"You finally remember that you're my disciple? How did I deal with that Five Peaks Deity of the Central Earth back then? Now you have reason on your side and a sword in your hand... What do you think you should do?"
The old scholar jumped up again, slapped Zuo You on the head, pointed toward the northernmost part of Tongye Continent, and roared, "Go fuck his mother!"
Zuo You said, "Oh."
And went south.
Under the sword cultivator and the sword qi he carried, the sea split apart to the east and west.