Chapter 373: Wandering Southeast
This passenger ship heading to the Green Luan Kingdom was built by Mo Clan mechanical masters who made a living at it. Among the many ferry vessels in Old Dragon City, it was nothing special, carrying over a hundred passengers each time, with more space devoted to transporting rare goods from the northern Bottle Gourd Continent and the southern Tongye Continent. But the goods that reached this merchant ship's hands were the result of layered screening by Old Dragon City's five great surnames, so their quality was naturally ordinary. Occasionally finding a bargain and earning an extra few hundred Snowflake Coins was already worth celebrating.
The Green Luan Kingdom was somewhat famous in the southeastern part of Bottle Gourd Continent, known for its numerous Daoist temples and Buddhist monasteries. Various Daoist immortals and eminent monks, often sponsored by the court, would hold Water and Land Dharma Assemblies and Grand Luo Heavenly Offerings here. Additionally, the Green Luan Kingdom's Green Sandalwood Xuan Paper was extremely renowned, sold across several continents, making successive emperors of Green Luan some of the wealthiest rulers in southeastern Bottle Gourd Continent. Moreover, since Buddhism was not flourishing in Bottle Gourd Continent, the number of temples in Green Luan Kingdom surpassed all others on the continent. The sound of Sanskrit chants filled the air, and walls were inscribed with beautiful writings from sages, literary giants, and poetry immortals, attracting countless literary scholars and poets to travel to Green Luan Kingdom.
In a bright and clean room on the top floor of the ferry, Chen Ping'an was flipping through a literati's travel notes about the landscapes and scenic spots of Green Luan Kingdom. He had bought it from a bookshop in Old Dragon City, specially asking Zhu Lian to help gather it.
Chen Ping'an was reading, while Pei Qian was copying texts.
In this world, difficult matters are hardest at the beginning. Over time, habits become nature, and it's no longer a question of difficulty. That was the case for Pei Qian. Reading and copying texts had become a daily habit. Even if Chen Ping'an didn't urge her, she would persist every day. But Chen Ping'an also knew that if he weren't often by her side, copying texts would definitely be abandoned by Pei Qian. She'd feel guilty for at most two or three days, then go wild and play.
Chen Ping'an divided that pot of small-refined medicinal liquor made from the Nascent Soul of an old flood dragon into five portions, giving one to each of the four people in the painting scroll. This was one of the few fortunate things for pure martial artists—being able to advance their cultivation through external objects. Sui Youbian was now at the seventh realm, the Golden Body realm, and with the Dharma sword Chi Xin in hand, her killing power was actually not small. Especially in one-on-one combat, if a Qi refiner below the Earth Immortal realm came within ten zhang of her, they might not last a single encounter. Zhu Lian's bottleneck was loosening, the signs clear. He was right behind Sui Youbian, about to step into the Warrior's Three Realms of Refining Spirit.
Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang had no possibility of breaking through for now, but after the fist-feedings from Zheng Dafeng and the battle outside Old Dragon City, they had raised the peak of the sixth realm a bit higher.
The four in the painting scroll were not ordinary seventh or sixth realm martial artists.
On this trip north through Bottle Gourd Continent, as long as they didn't encounter a mad Upper Five Realm cultivator, even if they faced an Earth Immortal Nascent Soul who wasn't a sword cultivator, they couldn't claim to escape unscathed, but they definitely had the strength to fight. If Wei Xian and the other three weren't afraid to die, Chen Ping'an's side might even win a bitter victory.
After the battle in Old Dragon City, what Chen Ping'an regretted most was that green-material sword-suppressing talisman. Zhong Kui had written it with the Small Snow Cone and given it to Zheng Dafeng. The sword it trapped happened to be the half-immortal weapon "Sword Immortal" that Chen Ping'an now carried on his back. Because Old Dragon City's city lord Fu Qi was not a sword cultivator and this sword was not refined as a natal object, on the Ascending Dragon Platform, Zheng Dafeng used the sword-suppressing talisman to detain this sword. Though it couldn't last long, Fu Qi admitted defeat frankly.
If he had such a sword-suppressing talisman, even if he encountered a fierce sword cultivator Nascent Soul, Chen Ping'an wouldn't need to be too afraid; instead, he could catch the opponent off guard.
But these gains and losses weren't enough to make Chen Ping'an so preoccupied and unable to let go.
What truly made Chen Ping'an feel lost was that this talisman was one of the last two talismans that Zhong Kui had written in the world while still a gentleman in the yang world.
Compared to the cross-continent ferries Chen Ping'an had ridden and seen, this ferry underfoot was truly tiny and delicate. One could only stand at the window to enjoy the view; there was no observation deck.
After Pei Qian finished writing, Chen Ping'an carefully checked. Finding no careless mistakes requiring rewriting, he began to practice six-step post walking with her, at least two hours each day.
Previously, Chen Ping'an hadn't thought practicing post walking was such a boring and exhausting chore. It wasn't until Pei Qian practiced it that he realized the fist post of the Mountain-Shaking Fist was indeed simple, but practicing it a million times was not easy—physically and mentally. Even though Chen Ping'an would pay attention to Pei Qian's breathing rhythm and energy reserves, Pei Qian would still get drenched in sweat every time, her hair stuck to her forehead, face pale. Though she didn't dare complain, Chen Ping'an watched her dark little face lose its smile, or when she trembled involuntarily during the steps, though he kept a straight face, he felt a bit of heartache.
On the first day, Pei Qian, relying on her beginner's excitement, forced herself through two hours of post walking. In the end, Chen Ping'an had to carry her to the adjacent room. The second day, she collapsed on the ground after just one hour, cramping severely, her spirit completely drained. Chen Ping'an didn't insist on two hours that day. In the following days, he ensured she maintained one hour of continuous practice, only adding a little more each time.
Only then did Pei Qian grit her teeth and persevere.
At first, Zhu Lian sneered and taunted her, and the little charcoal would still have the energy to glare at him. Later, she truly didn't have the spirit to argue for justice with Zhu Lian.
After ten days, having endured the hardest part, Pei Qian's face regained some of its former smile. She started walking again with her signature swagger, or hopping and skipping. When Zhu Lian again said nonsense like, "Master, this old servant privately thinks Pei Qian has excellent martial arts aptitude. During tempering, bones and sinews should suffer a bit more so that blood and qi can flourish. Why not have her walk posts for two hours each day," Pei Qian could still glare at him.
That day, after finishing post walking, the big and little one opened the window to practice Sword Furnace Post standing. Pei Qian was short, so she could only face the wall in contemplation. After Chen Ping'an agreed, she stood on a chair, just enough to look out the window with him at the sea of clouds.
Chen Ping'an said softly, "You have to believe that bitterness will be rewarded with sweetness."
Pei Qian was practicing Sword Furnace Post now just for show, with very little effect. Chen Ping'an was a bit puzzled by this. He asked Sui Youbian and the others, but didn't get an answer.
Having survived another day of bitter post walking, Pei Qian was secretly happy. Remembering something, she turned her head with a look of longing and said, "When I travel the world later, can I also have a sword? Preferably, like Little Bai, with a saber hanging at my waist. By then, I'll definitely have much more strength. I won't mind having both; they won't be too heavy."
Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded. "As long as you don't slack off, and when the day comes you travel the world alone, I can promise now that I'll give you a sword and a saber."
Pei Qian was a bit shy. She murmured, "I've actually thought about it. If I have my own sword and saber in the future, I'll hang them on the same side of my waist. I even have a name for this style of hanging a sword and saber. Master, do you want to hear it?"
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Tell me."
Naming things—I, Chen Ping'an, have always been good at that.
For example, First Day and Fifteenth Day; for example, Subdue Demons and Exorcise Evil.
Pei Qian said quietly, "I'll call it 'Sword and Saber Cross,' because they'll cross at the waist, master. What do you think?"
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Pretty good."
Pei Qian's eyes narrowed into crescent moons. She pressed two fingers together. "If it's even one tiny bit as good as the sword you carry on your back, master, I'll be very happy."
Chen Ping'an leaned on the window, turned his head, and smiled. "When the ferry docks later, we'll stick to the old rules and travel through Green Luan Kingdom on foot. When we see bamboo groves along the road, I'll pick some older bamboo and make you two bamboo swords and bamboo sabers. If you don't mind, you can hang them on you."
Pei Qian said loudly, "Make them light and small, so they won't be heavy to carry."
Chen Ping'an smiled and agreed. Looking out at the sea of clouds, he asked casually, "Then what about that walking staff?"
Pei Qian replied without hesitation, "It's my number one general under my command! It's walked so far with me. I'm not willing to just throw it away. I'll allow it to retire, enjoy life with grandchildren. Later, I'll ask Old Wei for advice on what official title I should bestow upon it..."
A whole lot of pretentious talk fell out of her mouth.
But Chen Ping'an nodded approvingly. He said softly, "That's right."
---
In Old Dragon City, at the Dust Apothecary shop, Zheng Dafeng didn't have much to pack. Aside from a change of clothes, only that old tobacco pipe needed to be taken with him.
It seemed that this slovenly man, whether guarding the broken wooden gate in Pear Blossom Cave Heaven or here, had always been like this his whole life. There was nothing he had to pick up, and nothing he couldn't put down.
Tomorrow, he would take the Fu family's ferry back to Spring Creek Commandery in the Great Li Dynasty. On the last day, Zheng Dafeng brought a bench and sat under the old locust tree.
Old man Xun had already left, saying he was going to meet a friend at the Invincible Divine Fist Gang.
Yesterday, Li Er returned to Old Dragon City. Fu Qi came with his eldest son Fu Donghai. Fu Qi's meaning was clear: Fu Donghai had acted without authorization, triggering this calamity. If Zheng Dafeng said one word, Mr. Li Er could punch and break Fu Donghai's Bridge of Life and Death. From then on, the Fu family would just raise Fu Donghai as a cripple.
Zheng Dafeng smiled and asked Fu Qi, "Why not just bring Fu Donghai with his bridge already broken to the apothecary? Wouldn't that show more sincerity?"
Fu Qi had no words to reply.
Fu Donghai's backbone was fairly tough. Not only did he not beg for mercy, he provoked a few words, acting as if he'd be uncomfortable if Li Er didn't throw a punch.
Zheng Dafeng looked tired at the time, sitting in the courtyard smoking his dry pipe.
The old man had clearly already made a deal with the Great Li Dynasty and the Fu and Fan families.
That Fan Junmao could become the second Mountain God of the Great Li Dynasty, following the Northern Peak Proper Deity Wei Po, when the Song clan's iron cavalry treaded on the South Sea shore of Old Dragon City.
And the price the old man paid was merely Zheng Dafeng's Ninth Realm cultivation.
Zheng Dafeng knew it was over.
Zheng Dafeng thought for a moment and said, let it be. There would be days ahead, and the flow could stretch long and thin.
Fu Qi sighed in relief and was about to take Fu Donghai home, but Li Er threw a punch at Fu Donghai's heart.
Not only was the Bridge of Life and Death broken, it was shattered beyond even immortal rescue.
Li Er didn't look at Fu Donghai. With a calm expression, he stared at Fu Qi and said, "I feel that as a father, one should stand up for one's son."
Fu Qi helped his fallen eldest son Fu Donghai, showing no anger on his face. He smiled and said, "At last Mr. Li Er has vented his anger. This trip was not in vain. Just as Mr. Zheng said, there will be days ahead, and the flow will stretch long and thin."
"Oh?"
Li Er smiled and asked, "How about you show me the way to the Fu family's ancestral hall?"
Fu Qi, who had not poor skill in nurturing his temper, instantly turned ashen.
Zheng Dafeng said, "Li Er, that's enough."
After Fu Qi left with Fu Donghai, Li Er quickly departed Old Dragon City.
Today, under the locust tree, Zheng Dafeng was alone, basking in the gentle early spring sun, wearing a comfortable cotton-padded jacket that Pei Qian and the others had bought for him.
That girl who hadn't been seen for a long time—probably because she'd eaten well during the New Year—seemed to have put on some weight in her cheeks and figure. Not like before, when she would only wander back and forth in front of Zheng Dafeng. This time she mustered the courage to approach him, and asked shyly, "Shopkeeper Zheng, are you hiring at the shop?"
Zheng Dafeng smiled and shook his head. "No. I'm going back to my hometown tomorrow. It's too hard to make a living in your Old Dragon City."
This girl, though astonishingly fat, had an unexpectedly soft, sweet voice, exceptionally pleasant. Her face was full of disappointment. "Will you come back?"
Zheng Dafeng shook his head. "Probably not."
She asked in surprise, "Didn't you say it was an old house left by your ancestors? What about the shop?"
Zheng Dafeng couldn't help but laugh. "Leave it empty. The Dust Apothecary—it's normal to gather dust, isn't it?"
She blushed slightly. "Why not give me the key? I'll help you clean it. A house without people living there will fall apart quickly. What a waste."
Zheng Dafeng waved his hand. "No need, no need. Really, thank you, miss."
Zheng Dafeng glanced at the sky. Though the sun was high, he said it was getting late and he needed to go pack. The girl bit her lip, watching the stooped man grab his bench and flee as if defeated. Suddenly she called out, "Shopkeeper Zheng, aren't you even going to ask my surname?"
Zheng Dafeng didn't have the nerve to pretend he was deaf. He stopped and turned. "May I ask the young lady's surname?"
The girl beamed. "I love eating ginger, so my surname is Jiang!" (Note: Jiang means ginger.)
Zheng Dafeng was stunned.
How should he respond to that?
From seeing how this girl had walked back and forth many times without speaking before, he knew she was polite and not clingy—a gentle temperament. Today was no exception. She turned sideways, gave a curtsy, and said, "I wish Shopkeeper Zheng a smooth journey."
Zheng Dafeng smiled and waved, bidding her farewell.
She was a good girl.
That night, outside Old Dragon City in the northern suburbs.
A small, fresh grave mound. On the small grave, several pieces of bright red hanging paper held down by small stones.
The stooped man crouched before the grave, burned a book, then set out ten small oil lamps in front of the grave. The lamp oil inside was pitch black, emitting wisps of yin fiend energy, but there were no wicks.
How could these lamps be lit?
A yin god appeared out of thin air, flicked his fingers at the oil lamps one by one. Ten lamps lit up in sequence. Upon closer inspection, the wicks, less than an inch high, were extremely strange and horrifying—they took the form of human-shaped wisps of green smoke, faces twisted and contorted as if enduring the immense agony of their souls being burned, flesh and blood dissolving drop by drop into lamp oil.
The wicks of the ten lamps were respectively the three souls and seven po of a certain person.
The body was still alive.
But the soul had already been forcibly summoned here by this yin god using a vicious technique.
The man was indifferent to this, just crouching there, speaking softly to the grave: "I'm afraid you'd find it creepy if you saw it, that you'd be scared. I'll leave after the lamps go out."
In the darkness, at the Sun family ancestral home, Sun Jiashu was walking alone along the riverbank.
The Sun family patriarch, even though he was an Earth Immortal Nascent Soul, had been sighing and regretting ceaselessly these days.
Instead, it was Sun Jiashu who comforted the old ancestor, saying that such fortune, if obtained, was his luck; if lost, it was fate. He said they should just consider that the Sun family truly didn't have this kind of windfall.
A young gentleman with a face like jade appeared beside Sun Jiashu, silent and invisible. Even the Sun family ancestor and three Golden Core attendants hadn't sensed the slightest ripple in his aura.
Sun Jiashu recognized this exalted person who had previously helped him resolve his mental knot. He immediately bowed and said, "Greetings, Mr. Fan."
That time when he devised a scheme against Chen Ping'an, Sun Jiashu had nearly become an enemy of Chen Ping'an, and had almost lost his close friend Liu Baqiao.
It was this exalted person before him—unfathomably ancient, perhaps hundreds or a thousand years old—who had found the disheartened Sun Jiashu, spoken some words, and guided him, clearing his mind.
"Walking on the road, you've achieved quite a bit. But you tripped over a stone, fell hard, suffered. Does that mean you chose the wrong path?"
"Chen Ping'an's path is good. Does that mean the path you, Sun Jiashu, walk is bad? Either this or that? So childish! What plans can you make? What business can you do?"
"No matter how good another person's path is, it is still their path. There's no harm in bowing your head and working, asking about the plowing but not the harvest. Occasionally lift your head, glance left and right at the scenery of other travelers. That's enough."
Golden words and fine jade. Priceless.
This "exalted person," who looked even younger than Sun Jiashu, only said his surname was Fan, but had almost no connection to the Fan family of Old Dragon City.
Sun Jiashu intuitively believed this deeply.
The man smiled and said, "After this, Old Dragon City will only have three families: the Fu family of Fu Qi, or rather the Fu family of Wang Zhu; the Fan family of Fan Junmao, or the Fan family of the old god; and finally, your Sun family takes half, and the combined shares of Ding Fanghou and the others take the other half. This time going north, the burden is heavy and the road is long. Keep up the effort."
Sun Jiashu nodded. "My Sun family will not miss this once-in-a-thousand-year opportunity."
The man chuckled. "Once in a thousand years? Not just that."
Sun Jiashu was dazed for a moment. Besides pondering the depth of those words, he also thought of the day he secretly saw Chen Ping'an off.
That young man in white robes, with a sword on his back, seemed to spot him from behind the crowd after the ferry rose into the sky.
Instead of ignoring him, he cupped his fists in farewell, and finally raised his arm high, extending his thumb.
Sun Jiashu smiled faintly.
He felt that way then, and he felt that way now.
---
Inside the imperial palace of a newly rising dynasty.
A master and disciple were walking between two tall walls. The handsome young man in white robes ran his finger along the wall.
The woman beside him was tall, but without any sense of disharmony or clumsiness.
As she walked, she had no aura.
No sign of a Qi refiner's harmony with heaven and earth, no imposing manner of a pure martial artist, not even the breathing of an ordinary person.
The tall woman, who always wore a sword at her waist without a scabbard, had just a few days ago found a seemingly ordinary green bamboo sheath for her sword, which had been honed at Thunder Pond on Inverted Mountain.
One of her attendants had painstakingly searched for it on Bottle Gourd Continent.
The handsome young man, who looked like an immortal up close or from afar, smiled and asked, "Master, was it bought or taken by force?"
The woman said flatly, "I heard it was bought."
The young man sighed. "Then it was bought by force."
The woman smiled. "If you think that's wrong, you can fight him."
The young man said helplessly, "I, Cao Ci, am only a fifth realm martial artist now. How can I fight him?"
The woman stopped. "You omitted the word 'strongest'."
Cao Ci thought for a moment, then scraped his toe on the ground, drawing two short lines at the left and right ends. He lifted his toe and pointed at the line on the left. "If we're only talking about the fifth realm, ordinary martial arts geniuses of the world are here."
He moved his toe to the right. "I, Cao Ci, am here."
Then he pointed at the midpoint between the two. "Apart from me, the most outstanding fifth realm geniuses from the Central Divine Continent are probably here."
The tall woman didn't think her disciple was being arrogant or underestimating his peers. In fact, she felt Cao Ci was still being too modest.
Cao Ci suddenly crouched down, extended a finger, and pointed at the middle line, moving it slightly toward his own line. "I think that guy, after I broke through, when he was in the fifth realm, could reach here."
The woman looked down at the spot Cao Ci had drawn with his finger, nodded in agreement. "That should be about right."
As this master and disciple, one standing, one crouching, chatted about the martial fortunes of the world, far away, the foremost eunuch of this great dynasty—a Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial who had hopes of reaching the Immortal realm—was leading a group of big eunuchs in crimson python robes toward them. Seeing the pair, they all stopped, respectfully standing at attention with hands clasped. Not one dared to breathe too loudly.
---
When the ferry arrived at the border ferry port of Green Luan Kingdom, Chen Ping'an and his group walked down the bustling main street of the port. For some reason, whether Qi refiners or pure martial artists, everyone actively gave way and detoured around them. The higher the realm and the keener the eyesight of mid-level cultivators and the elder martial artists of the Three Realms of Refining Qi, the more clearly they felt an invisible pressure.
A stunningly beautiful woman carrying a sword, a tall man with a narrow saber at his waist, a stooped, smiling old man, and a sturdy, short, taciturn man.
None of them were simple.
But for some reason, a Golden Core cultivator concealing his aura in the crowd felt that the combined momentum of these four didn't match that of the young man with obvious injuries, carrying a sword on his back.
Like stars around the moon.