Chapter 379: Signs
The rainwater contained an unusual, sinister aura. Chen Ping'an's blunt observation was what truly made the two factions from the Jianghu world in the cliffside cave cease their hostility. It wasn't his earnest advice about not walking a narrow path, nor even the display of his lantern talismans, but solely one sentence: "The old immortals of Golden Cinnamon Temple have yet to make a move."
This meant either Golden Cinnamon Temple was biding their time, feigning weakness to lure out the enemy, or they were simply outmatched and had to hole up in the temple to avoid a direct confrontation.
Regardless of the reason, this kind of celestial scuffle on the mountain, even with some lingering incense-fellowship, made the women of the Rouge Studio from Cloud Chaser Kingdom unwilling to stake their lives on it. As for the old demon Zhu Fengxian, who had once stirred up rivers of blood across several kingdoms, he was a seasoned and prudent man. This trip up the mountain was solely to pave a path for his granddaughter's cultivation, while Golden Cinnamon Temple could conveniently accept a promising disciple. It was a matter of mutual benefit. Great Marsh Gang was no inferior party, and Zhu Fengxian had no intention of serving as a pawn for the Golden Summit Temple Daoists.
Chen Ping'an returned to his original spot. Pei Qian, in an obsequious manner, had somehow found a small stone slab and offered it to Chen Ping'an as a stool. She crouched down, vigorously wiping the dirt off it with her hands while looking up to console him: "Master, you still had quite the presence, but there was a minor flaw in your closing act. Still, it's negligible."
The term "closing act" was something she'd picked up from frequently watching Lu Baixiang play games of Go. Living day and night with the four from the scroll, Pei Qian had learned quite a few things. For instance, from Old Wei, she learned about battlefield formations: "In the thick of battle, there's no such thing as a 'One-Line Snake Formation' or a 'Dragon Gate Formation'; it's just about setting the ranks, aligning the columns. In the end, it's every man for himself, hacking and slashing wildly." From Little Bai, she learned some rules of Go and music. From Zhu Lian, she picked up a few recipes for dishes to go with drinks. Seeing that she was a hardworking and reliable helper, Zhu Lian even gave Pei Qian a book about Jianghu rangers, which she read with such passion that she forgot to eat and sleep. She also learned a lot of Jianghu slang from Sui Youbian, like "If you wish to pass this way, leave behind your life's savings," or "Bold highway robber, taste my spear!" and the like.
Zhang Shanfeng looked at the curtain of rain outside, somewhat worried, and said softly, "Such heavy yin rain, lasting this long. Even a Viewing the Sea realm cultivator might not hold up, unless they had already set up a rain-summoning formation well in advance. But with this kind of expenditure, if it's truly triggered by a formation rather than one's own Dao magic, it's like tossing money to the heavens. So it's more likely the work of a Dragon Gate realm cultivator. I wonder what realm of Qi refiner the Daoist at Golden Cinnamon Temple is. Can they handle this yin rain that affects the fate of the local mountains and waters?"
Zhang Shanfeng's voice wasn't loud, but Zhu Fengxian and the old woman from Rouge Studio were both martial grandmasters in the pugilist world. With a little attention, they could hear clearly. Zhu Fengxian didn't care about being caught "eavesdropping." He said to the old woman with a smile, "Since Rouge Studio has a good relationship with Golden Cinnamon Temple, you must know the level of the temple master's immortal arts, right?"
The old woman hesitated for a moment, then nodded: "According to legend, Temple Master Zhang Guo is already two hundred years old and has reached the Dragon Gate realm, like a dragon in the clouds commanding wind and rain."
Zhu Fengxian frowned: "But the recent widespread rumor in the martial world isn't that Zhang Guo has been in seclusion for decades and, upon successfully emerging, has already stepped into the legendary Land Immortal realm?"
The old woman smiled bitterly: "A golden core earthly immortal is so transcendent, why would they still bother taking on disciples? To focus on cultivation, to aim directly for the Great Dao, that would be the way. If it were you, Chief Zhu, having become an immortal guest, would you still be willing to pick up coins from a muddy pond? Even if there really were gold and silver in that pond, we in the martial world might covet them and stoop to fumble in the muck. Would the immortals on the mountain care? Still, Temple Master Zhang Guo has the makings of an earthly immortal, that much is certain. Chief Zhu need not doubt; it's only a matter of time. If your granddaughter becomes Zhang Guo's disciple and cultivates at Golden Cinnamon Temple, her future won't be bad."
Zhu Fengxian nodded, his expression slightly improving.
A Dragon Gate realm cultivator—as a seventh-grade martial artist, Zhu Fengxian would be wary, but certainly not terrified. He had already killed a handful of Cavern Dwelling and Viewing the Sea realm cultivators with his own hands.
But a Dragon Gate realm Daoist with potential to become a golden core earthly immortal—that was someone Zhu Fengxian was willing to show sufficient respect to. That Daoist was already qualified enough to be his granddaughter's Dao instructor.
The Great Marsh Gang would send a generous annual tribute in silver to this Azure Essence Mountain's Golden Cinnamon Temple by secret envoy.
Zhang Shanfeng sighed inwardly. Those who were not of the mountain did not know the affairs of the mountain. The immortals in the eyes of Zhu Fengxian and the Rouge Studio old woman were too lofty, too detached from earthly mire. Even a golden core earthly immortal? So what? Didn't they still need to diligently accumulate their resources? The matter of cultivation was the greatest money-burning, bottomless pit in the world. But most earthly immortals, apart from those carefree wild recluses, those grand cultivators with their own mountain peaks and caves, didn't need to handle mundane affairs themselves. Their sects took care of the relationships; they only had to focus on cultivating the Dao. In that sense, the Rouge Studio old woman had guessed half of it right.
Just then, in the distant rain-shrouded depths of the mountain, suddenly lightning flashed and thunder roared. The ground trembled. Wind and rain skewed. There were sounds like a lion's roar, rumbling in succession.
After a moment, the strange phenomena ceased, and nothing was left but the torrential rain.
About the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, Sui Youbian, Zhu Lian, and Zhu Fengxian in the cave almost simultaneously looked up toward the entrance.
Zhu Fengxian's expression remained normal, but his heart tightened.
Among the retinue of that young immortal master, there were actually two people with instincts as sharp as his own?
He was one of the four grandmasters of the kingdoms of Green Luan, Celebration Mountain, and Cloud Chaser. Thirty years ago, in a battle with an immortal, his martial foundation had been damaged. After thirty years of healing, he still hadn't returned to his peak and had dropped to the bottom of the four grandmasters. But a dead tiger still keeps its dignity; Zhu Fengxian was far from being down-and-out. He had merely fallen from the second to the fourth seat, but he was still an undisputed grandmaster.
This successive three-year Buddhist-Daoist grand event had indeed attracted many hidden cultivators, but the top-tier experts in the martial world could be counted on one's fingers. The so-called "small grandmasters" were just seventh-grade martial artists in name only, with weak foundations. If it came to a life-or-death struggle, they wouldn't survive a few punches from the likes of him.
How come, in this chance encounter in the mountains, so many had suddenly appeared? Besides the stunningly beautiful sword-bearing woman and the seemingly amiable hunchbacked old man, the imposing blade-carrying man and the taciturn, wiry fellow were clearly also formidable martial experts. This was the only reason Zhu Fengxian had looked at Chen Ping'an with new eyes from start to finish. Clouds follow the dragon, wind follows the tiger. If that young immortal master was nothing but a snake or a cat, how could he tame these martial arts grandmasters?
The heavy rain began to abate.
In the rain curtain, several young Daoists and little Daoists came in pairs. The leading Daoist from Golden Cinnamon Temple had a face like carved jade and a captivating smile. The Daoists behind him, besides holding their own umbrellas, each carried a stack of oilpaper umbrellas. Only the foremost Daoist had nothing in his hands. After entering the cave, he folded his wet oilpaper umbrella. His demeanor was elegant, a different kind of refinement from the aristocratic air of noble scions. He looked at the crowd and smiled: "There are some evildoers stirring up trouble, trying to harm the feng shui of our Golden Cinnamon Temple with this yin rain. Everyone, please do not panic. Our temple master and two close friends who have traveled from afar have already withdrawn their divine powers. You may safely follow me up the mountain. The gang of villains has already been subdued and executed; not one escaped the net."
The old woman from Rouge Studio secretly glanced at the young girl "Qingcheng." Her eyes were filled with uncontrollable excitement. Earlier, when she heard the thunder, she had already harbored some wishful speculation, her heart agitating. If it were true, then Qingcheng, the hope of her sect, would have no further obstacles in her apprenticeship. Now hearing the handsome Daoist confirm that "the temple master's friends have lent a hand," the old woman thought of the immortal face on the precious portrait kept by her sect's founding matriarch. For a moment, a flood of emotions surged within her. When her founding matriarch was on her deathbed many years ago, despite her failing strength, she had made the young woman and a senior sister hold the two ends of the scroll, unrolling the painting so she could take one last look at the image of that man on it.
The reason they had spared no effort to escort "Qingcheng" up the mountain to cultivate was that the immortal man had sent word to Rouge Studio. In over a hundred years, this was the first time he had initiated communication with them. The entire sect was overjoyed.
The handsome Daoist, with an otherworldly, ethereal air, smiled and said: "These oilpaper umbrellas—the fabric is ordinary, but the handles are made from spirit-imbued cassia branches by the seniors of our temple. They can ward off evil winds and baleful rains. Whether you're crossing forests and lakes, or walking alone through a cemetery at night, if you hold one of our temple's cassia umbrellas, you need not fear the encroachment of evil spirits. Seeing this umbrella, they will scatter and flee far away. The temple master was worried that some of you might have family members, women and children who do not practice martial arts, so he specially sent us down the mountain to deliver umbrellas."
He handed out more than a dozen of the cassia umbrellas unique to Golden Cinnamon Temple.
A rosy-lipped, white-toothed little Daoist boy had long since spotted the only child his age, Pei Qian. As soon as his uncle master gave the order to distribute umbrellas, he immediately trotted over to the charcoal-black little girl and handed her a cassia umbrella, grinning from ear to ear.
Pei Qian couldn't care less about some lousy little umbrella from Golden Cinnamon Temple. But since Chen Ping'an was right there, she had to abide by the "master's rules and family law." So she politely declined the little Daoist's oilpaper umbrella and then thanked the little fellow properly.
The little Daoist was a bit worried and said that this yin rain shouldn't be underestimated; it could easily harm people's yang vitality. Those with weak constitutions or those with unsteady fortunes could immediately fall ill, and medicine wouldn't be of any use. Anyway, these umbrellas were lent to them by the temple for free, no charge. Why not take one? The cassia handle wasn't heavy.
Pei Qian could only wish she could roll her eyes.
Watching the earnest little Daoist explain the severity of the yin rain to Pei Qian with such seriousness, Chen Ping'an smiled. He ruffled Pei Qian's head and told her to accept the oilpaper umbrella. He then looked at the handsome Daoist: "Esteemed Daoist, I hear your temple is opening its doors to accept disciples this time. I wonder if we, as passing travelers who happen to be here, could go up the mountain and enter the temple to observe the grand event and impose upon you?"
The handsome Daoist smiled and nodded: "Of course. Once you ascend the mountain, you just need to get a small booklet and pay attention to the various Daoist taboos recorded in it."
The little Daoist immediately turned to the handsome Daoist and shouted: "Little Uncle Master, I have all the items in the booklet memorized by heart. Why don't you let me explain them to this young gentleman?"
The handsome Daoist smiled: "If the young gentleman is willing to listen to your prattle, then you can accompany the gentleman up the mountain."
Chen Ping'an cupped his fists and thanked the two Daoists, one old and one young, from Golden Cinnamon Temple. He smiled: "Thank you, Daoist. And my thanks to you, little Daoist."
Chen Ping'an turned to Xu Yuanxia and Zhang Shanfeng. They both nodded slightly, indicating that going up the mountain and entering the temple was not a problem.
Having made up his mind, Xu Yuanxia was even somewhat delighted. Golden Cinnamon Temple had long kept its doors closed to guests, so outsiders couldn't appreciate its splendor. There were rumors down the mountain in Green Luan Kingdom that the heavenly maiden scattering flowers and the ground covered in osmanthus at Whitewater Temple had their origins in the several thousand-year-old cassia trees behind Golden Cinnamon Temple. Moreover, an immortal wandering the world had descended to the temple, pointed at the cassia tree, and uttered the golden words: "This is a seed from the moon."
The yellow earth-ox had not even entered the cliffside cave earlier, being a demon creature by origin. Now, with this sudden disturbance, the temple cultivators might become suspicious. Once Golden Cinnamon Temple started inquiring, Chen Ping'an would inevitably have a lot of explaining to do. Fortunately, the ox, well-versed in mountain conflicts, transmitted its thoughts to Chen Ping'an from a distance. It said it would wait underground nearby; unless an earthly immortal came inspecting, it wasn't easy to detect. Chen Ping'an told it to be careful and, if anything happened, to just run straight up Azure Essence Mountain. He would come out and clarify the situation.
The temple was at the summit of Azure Essence Mountain. The roads were muddy, making the ascent difficult. From the foot of the mountain to the temple gate, the widest path could only accommodate three people walking abreast; there was no hope for carriages. It was clear that Golden Cinnamon Temple indeed had little interest in dealings with the world below.
When Chen Ping'an and his group had previously gone to Azure Tiger Temple on Pure Mirror Mountain, they had climbed a grand staircase of three thousand steps, more magnificent than the vermilion steps of an imperial palace.
Golden Cinnamon Temple was not large, only housing about forty to fifty Daoists. Those who had brought their younger generations up the mountain had long since hired people to build thatched huts halfway up Azure Essence Mountain as temporary lodgings. The temple did not prohibit this. Some quick-witted martial sects, particularly those with influence in Green Luan Kingdom, seeing that Golden Cinnamon Temple was easygoing, simply hired dozens of laborers to break ground and build houses halfway up the mountain. The scale of these buildings was not inferior to inns and taverns in bustling markets.
Golden Cinnamon Temple was a relatively uncommon "forest temple." However, according to the handsome Daoist's casual conversation, the temple's property did not entirely belong to the lineage of its inherited Daoist tradition. Moreover, when the temple master took on disciples, they would receive a golden jade imperial certificate issued by the Green Luan Kingdom court. As long as one was accepted as a disciple of Temple Master Zhang Guo, not merely a temporary resident cultivator, they would be registered as a certified immortal master. This was likely the fundamental reason why martial clans and noble families were swarming up the mountain with their young ones.
Only large Daoist temples would have the full complement of three assistants, five directors, and eighteen heads. Golden Cinnamon Temple, with just forty to fifty people, naturally didn't have so many formalities. Apart from Temple Master Zhang Guo, there were only about two or three managers and a few storekeepers, a total of five or six. The handsome Daoist, Xu Borui, was the temple's drum master. After all, no matter how small a temple, the bell and drum were indispensable.
If one talked about the largest hereditary temple under heaven, it would undoubtedly be the Celestial Master's Mansion on Dragon Tiger Mountain in the Central Plains.
The temple's old immortal, Zhang Guo, would hold the disciple-recruiting ceremony the day after tomorrow. Zhu Fengxian's Great Marsh Gang, one of the biggest local powers in Green Luan Kingdom, had already spent over a hundred thousand taels of silver to build a magnificent "summer palace" halfway up the mountain, extremely conspicuous among the many buildings. It seemed Zhu Fengxian had never doubted his granddaughter's selection.
Rouge Studio had also hired people to build a distinctive courtyard garden. But Daoist Xu Borui stated bluntly: "Liu Qingcheng and Zhu Ziyang can follow me into the temple. Golden Cinnamon Temple has already prepared two quiet rooms for them."
Then Xu Borui said to Chen Ping'an with a smile: "The temple is humble and poorly hosts guests. At present, only two rooms are left. If you, young sir, are willing to stay alone, you can come up the mountain with me now. If you would rather not be separated from your friends and have no other place to stay, I could intercede on your behalf with some acquaintances from noble families in Green Luan Kingdom and arrange for you to lodge there for a few days. It shouldn't be a problem, and it would be a good deed of forming affinity."
Zhu Fengxian laughed heartily: "Daoist Xu, why go to so much trouble? Let the young sir and his party stay at my place."
The old woman from Rouge Studio also wanted to invite Chen Ping'an's party, but since they were all women, they had to avoid suspicion. It was really inconvenient for her to speak up, so she could only watch as this great opportunity for good karma was snatched away by those crude martial artists of the Great Marsh Gang.
The mountain rain ceased. Chen Ping'an asked Xu Borui if they could go see the temple's cassia trees that day. Xu Borui said with a smile that it was certainly permissible, but he would need to lead the way, and they were not allowed to wander freely inside the temple.
So Chen Ping'an, Pei Qian, Zhang Shanfeng, and Xu Yuanxia continued up the mountain, while the four from the scroll followed "Green Luan Kingdom's old demon" Zhu Fengxian to his lodgings.
The little Daoist boy stuck close to Pei Qian, clutching a large stack of oilpaper umbrellas in his arms. He had no choice—he was the youngest in the temple. The rest were mostly old-timers, many with only a few teeth left when they opened their mouths. Or there was Little Uncle Master Xu Borui, a serious and strict Daoist. Having finally run into a peer he could chat with, the little Daoist boy was naturally overjoyed.
Pei Qian, on the other hand, was somewhat impatient. How did she end up with this chattering little sparrow? Shouldn't the cultivators on the mountain be like blind, mute, and deaf people?
The Rouge Studio girl Liu Qingcheng and Zhu Fengxian's granddaughter Zhu Ziyang, having left the protection of their sects and elders, were behaving differently. The former was somewhat timid, while the latter was fearless, constantly questioning Daoist Xu Borui about the veracity of various rumors about Golden Cinnamon Temple. Xu Borui, seemingly a mild-mannered recluse, answered them all without exaggeration or concealment, which made Zhu Ziyang feel favorably disposed toward Golden Cinnamon Temple.
Liu Qingcheng mustered her courage and asked the round-faced girl from the Great Marsh Gang in a soft voice: "So your name wasn't 'Wanshang' after all?"
Zhu Ziyang slapped her forehead: "How can there be such a naive martial artist like you?"
Not directly calling the egg-faced girl stupid was already Zhu Ziyang showing restraint.
Zhu Ziyang's peripheral vision caught sight of the exquisite short knife at Liu Qingcheng's waist, its bamboo scabbard inscribed with the characters "Zuier." She smiled and asked: "That knife of yours looks pretty. Let me have a look?"
Liu Qingcheng shook her head, timidly: "This is a relic of my Supreme Grand Matriarch. I can't just hand it over to anyone."
Zhu Ziyang was about to persist when Liu Borui intervened with a smile: "Zhu Ziyang, you mustn't force others. If you become fellow disciples in the future, you'll still need to pay attention to such matters."
Zhu Ziyang had a good impression of this handsome Daoist, one of Temple Master Zhang Guo's direct disciples. He might soon become her "senior brother" at Golden Cinnamon Temple, so she let the soft-hearted little lady from Rouge Studio off the hook.
Liu Qingcheng cast a grateful look at the Daoist, who dismissed it with a smile.
Chen Ping'an watched the two girls who were about to become mountain cultivators, and naturally thought of his encounter in the Multicolored Garment Kingdom. A young female Qi refiner with a bell tied to her had once fought alongside him to vanquish demons and monsters. Though her Dao cultivation wasn't high, she hadn't been a hindrance; she was quite a chivalrous girl, and later became an envied disciple of the Divine Edict Sect. And then there were those siblings he first met in the wood shed, two children who by now should be half-cultivators.
The affairs of the world are wondrous, in the small things.
At the temple, the lucky girls Zhu Ziyang and Liu Qingcheng were led away by the Daoist to their quarters. The little Daoist boy and his senior brothers went to store the cassia umbrellas. These items were extremely valuable. If they were willing to sell them to people down the mountain, Little Uncle Master Xu had said one umbrella could fetch a sky-high price of several thousand silver taels. They were "moon palace" cassia branches snapped off from the ancestral cassia tree, after all. The little Daoist's imagination ran wild. If a single cassia handle was worth so much, then wouldn't selling off the six cassia trees turn their Azure Essence Mountain into a huge mountain of gold and silver?
Xu Borui led Chen Ping'an and his party alone through the quiet, not-so-large temple to the back gate, heading straight onward. After the rain had cleared, the view was bright and open. They could already see those ancient, weather-beaten, towering cassia trees, luxuriant in foliage, with one in the center being particularly sky-scraping. Each old cassia tree had its own name. Xu Borui introduced them one by one, telling which mountain hermit had said what fine words under which tree. He recounted them concisely, without losing their charm.
Crisscrossing bluestone paths ran between the trees, with stone tables and stools in their shade. The stone table under the ancestral cassia tree had its surface carved into a Go board by the temple. Xu Borui lingered there for a moment, brushed his fingers across the board, and smiled, saying that this board was not carved with a blade, but was "measured out" by a traveling sword immortal from another land who had spat sword qi, marking it with sharp, fierce energy. The temple's Daoists had once measured it carefully with rulers and found that the horizontal and vertical intervals were accurate down to the finest fraction. Therefore, that sword immortal must have been at least a Golden Core sword cultivator, possibly even a Nascent Soul sword immortal unheard of in Bottle Gourd Continent.
Speaking of this, Xu Borui's spirits soared. He smiled: "A long time ago, a senior of our temple, determined to get to the bottom of it, traveled thousands of miles specifically to Wind Snow Temple, True Martial Mountain, Bright Sun Mountain, and Wind Thunder Garden, searching for that sword immortal and visiting many famous sword cultivators. Finally, he concluded that it was most likely Li Tuanting, the Nascent Soul leader of Bottle Gourd Continent from Wind Thunder Garden, the Great Sword Immortal. Unfortunately, after returning to the temple, that senior had no more energy to return to Wind Thunder Garden to confirm the matter. In the hundred years since, it has become an unsolved case."
Chen Ping'an played along: "Once, through an immortal painting on a ferry ship, I had the chance to see Wind Thunder Garden's Garden Master Li draw his sword. It was indeed very formidable. But it's a pity that after settling the old grudge with Bright Sun Mountain, Garden Master Li is said to have already passed away by dissolution. I wonder if Wind Thunder Garden can find the reincarnation of this sword immortal, so that he might return to the mountain gate to cultivate again and continue the Daoist bond."
Xu Borui was astonished: "Great Sword Immortal Li has already died by dissolution?!"
It seemed that Golden Cinnamon Temple had indeed been rather isolated from worldly affairs in the past hundred years.
Chen Ping'an smiled: "That's what I heard. But as for the truth, who knows? The Great Sword Immortal Li's cultivation was profound, so I dare not make a hasty judgment. Perhaps he is just seeking an opportunity to break through the bottleneck of the Jade Perfection realm."
Liu Baqiao of Wind Thunder Garden was one of Chen Ping'an's few friends from the mountains.
Once, for the sake of the fairy Su Jia, Liu Baqiao had even ridden his sword to chase down Chen Ping'an's ferry ship, and they had met.
So Chen Ping'an knew for certain that Li Tuanting had died by dissolution. However, as a friend of Liu Baqiao, it wouldn't be right to brag to outsiders about such important news, using it as a point of pride.
But Chen Ping'an, accustomed to noticing subtlety in people and affairs, suddenly discovered that when he casually said "Jade Perfection realm," Xu Borui's eyes had changed subtly.
Chen Ping'an then realized that not all practitioners knew the nomenclature of the Upper Five Realms. Some might spend their entire lives only looking up at the words "Earthly Immortal."
This was similar to how Zhu He had once firmly believed that the ultimate martial realm was the ninth-grade mountain peak, with no possibility of going higher.
But with his current state of mind, Chen Ping'an was no longer overly concerned about such harmless slip-ups. Traveling the world, making enemies with pure martial artists, or dealing with Qi refiners while enjoying mountain scenery—if he was always guarded and held back, it might not be a good thing. An occasional leak of heavenly secrets like this might actually save a lot of trouble.
Having seen the immortal cassia trees of Golden Cinnamon Temple, the temple tour came to an end. Xu Borui once again escorted Chen Ping'an and his party to the temple gate, earnestly inviting them to come back the day after tomorrow to observe the ceremony. He would help arrange seats. Chen Ping'an thanked him and went down the mountain toward the halfway point. After walking a hundred paces, Xu Yuanxia looked back at the Daoist, who still hadn't turned to enter the temple and was still watching them leave. Xu Yuanxia turned his head and said softly with a smile: "Daoist Xu is a mindful man. In the future, he'll definitely do well at Golden Cinnamon Temple."
Chen Ping'an nodded: "Every immortal mansion on the mountain needs a figurehead who can handle people without any flaws."
Zhang Shanfeng felt a bit sad.
He was obviously thinking of his own sect. After years of wandering outside, he couldn't help but miss his master's wine-red nose and thunderous snoring.
If he hadn't met Chen Ping'an and Xu Yuanxia, this uncertified Dragon Tiger Mountain outer-surname celestial master would probably have already returned dejectedly to the Northern Juzhou Continent, the Northern Juzhou.
They arrived at the grand mansion built by the Great Marsh Gang. An astute and capable steward had been waiting for a long time at the gate. He bent slightly and turned to lead Chen Ping'an and his party to their quarters.
After Chen Ping'an and his group had each settled in...
Deep behind the cassia trees at Golden Cinnamon Temple, in a quiet, elegant cottage, Xu Borui stood respectfully in the courtyard.
Under the eaves, the corridor was extremely wide and clean. Three pairs of wooden clogs were at the foot of the steps. An old Daoist with an immortal air, none other than Temple Master Zhang Guo, a Dragon Gate realm cultivator.
There were also two honored guests who had "righteously stepped in" to subdue the unruly elements, both of whom had crossed paths with Chen Ping'an before.
The burly youth Jiang Yun, and the Grand Commander of Green Luan Kingdom, Wei Liang.
The three of them were now sitting around a table, each eating a bowl of plain noodles. Spring bamboo shoots, mountain mushrooms, various wild greens that sprouted in the spring forest, wheat gluten, and a broth slow-simmered over a low flame—the aroma filled the air.
After Xu Borui finished reporting his general impressions of Chen Ping'an's party, the old Daoist Zhang Guo smiled and told his disciple to go rest.
The old Daoist asked: "Coincidence, or did they find their way here by snake and vine?"
Wei Liang thought for a moment: "Coincidence. If it weren't for Xu Borui's big face, this group would probably be blocking the door of my mansion right now."
Wei Liang turned to Jiang Yun: "I saw your expression change earlier. Do you know this person?"
Jiang Yun nodded: "He's a local from the Grotto-Heaven of the Precious Pearl. When I first met him, he was still a commoner. After all these years, he's changed so much I barely recognized him. He's a decent person, but I estimate he's involved in many things. When I met him at Bee Tail Ferry, I didn't dare talk to him much."
Wei Liang laughed: "Since he's a native of the Grotto-Heaven of the Precious Pearl, nothing about him is strange."
Jiang Yun had no objection to this.
He and other outsiders carrying gold-copper coins to seek opportunities at the cave dwelling were still inferior to some locals who just sat and waited for good fortune to fall on their heads.
But among the outsiders, he was considered relatively lucky. He was able to take away that dragon-locking chain and refine it into a life-bound treasure. This was an enormous and unexpected joy. Even his master, with his profound cultivation, was extremely shocked and very delighted, saying that he might have stolen quite a bit of the Cloud Forest Jiang Clan's fortune to obtain such a great creation. At that time, the iron chain hanging in the well of the cave heaven had caught his eye. After he got it, his master specially asked a friend to help appraise it. The conclusion was that it was at least a precious relic of a damned immortal-level grand cultivator. Before all its secret prohibitions were unlocked, it was already a genuine semi-immortal weapon.
It was rumored that the highest rank of this kind of dragon-locking chain was called the Dragon-Slaying Chain. Its power was even more exaggerated than the Dragon King's Basket, which could imprison and capture ancient earthly immortal flood dragons. A grand cultivator, once throwing it out, could easily bind a flood dragon, then shake it and directly flay the dragon alive, leaving only a spine and a pearl.
But the greatest opportunity in the Grotto-Heaven of the Precious Pearl was not in these "dead things."
As for those five little creatures, it wasn't something anyone could find by digging three feet into the ground. It could only be left to fate.
Jiang Yun hadn't even seen a single one of them.
The old Daoist Zhang Guo put down his chopsticks, patted his belly, and said: "After years of fasting, I made an exception today to entertain you two top-tier guests. Not bad."
Zhang Guo squinted and asked with a smile: "Grand Commander Wei, for this Golden Cinnamon Temple to spend so much effort—opening its doors to take disciples, deliberately leaking the secret that our ancestral cassia tree can be refined into a semi-immortal weapon to let the wicked mix in, and then closing the door to beat the dogs—helping your Green Luan Kingdom kill over a dozen foreign cultivators. Didn't the Tang Emperor show some appreciation?"
Wei Liang laughed: "Appreciation? Of course. I'm sitting here eating a bowl of plain noodles, aren't I?"
Zhang Guo pointed his finger at Wei Liang: "The temple's founder was right. You're a miser! No wonder he passed down the instruction that Golden Cinnamon Temple should have little to do with your Commander's mansion."
Wei Liang had half a bowl of noodles left but put down his chopsticks. The burly youth took the bowl over, and Wei Liang ignored it. He said to Temple Master Zhang Guo: "You should be content. When Golden Cinnamon Temple was first built, it had little incense. Who invited Li Tuanting to come here for plain noodles? And this time, the Cloud Forest Jiang Clan's young master Jiang Yun—could you, Zhang Guo, have invited him yourself? Even if you served a bowl of crappy plain noodles in front of him, would Jiang Yun be willing to pick up his chopsticks?"
Jiang Yun buried his head in the noodles, not giving Wei Liang much face: "One pair of chopsticks is enough. Just bring a few more bowls of plain noodles."
Zhang Guo laughed heartily, in high spirits.
In his impression, the disciples of the Cloud Forest Jiang Clan were all arrogant, each one more so than the last. This young cultivator named Jiang Yun was a bit different. Since he was traveling with Wei Liang and was on such good terms with him, he couldn't be from a branch family of the Jiang Clan. That was interesting.
Wei Liang hesitated for a moment, then said: "Zhang Guo, that little girl from Rouge Studio, I'll trouble you to take good care of her in the future."
Zhang Guo's smile became playful: "The small knife she carries at her waist, the 'Zuier' paper-knife, was probably a gift from you to some female ancestor of Rouge Studio back in the day, right?"
Wei Liang sighed.
Zhang Guo didn't push further. These worldly loves and hatreds, almost every cultivator in the Middle Five Realms would have some. Looking back, they were just fleeting clouds.
It all depended on whether the cultivator was nostalgic.
Early grudges in the world below, when one side became an immortal, things would get complicated.
If the cultivator held a grudge, a hundred-year-old grudge would remain fresh. There were countless cases of some local noble family suffering inexplicable disasters for no reason. A baseless calamity would often uproot the entire family, leaving no survivors.
If the cultivator was sentimental, then many generations of some mortal's descendants might quietly enjoy the shade of their ancestors' grace without even knowing why—why they were able to escape every disaster, as if a great hand was shielding them from the wind and rain.
Zhang Guo said: "Among them, the one with the best aptitude is that little girl from the Great Marsh Gang, Zhu Fengxian's granddaughter. She's already a third-grade Qi refiner. She is the only one with an earthly immortal aptitude. Among the other seventy-plus, the highest achievement is no more than the Grotto Dwelling realm for the Rouge Studio girl. At most, she might hope for the Viewing the Sea realm. As for the other seven besides Zhu Ziyang and Liu Qingcheng, I don't think any one of them will enter the Middle Five Realms."
Wei Liang and Jiang Yun said in unison: "Perhaps not."
Zhang Guo's eyes lit up: "Which one?!"
Wei Liang smiled but did not answer.
Jiang Yun lifted his head, also not giving an answer. Instead, he changed the subject: "What about that demon from the earth-ox lineage? Not going to deal with it? Didn't you want to bring it under your command long ago, to make it the mount of the Northern Mountain God of your Green Luan Kingdom?"
Wei Liang shook his head: "Forget it. Matters of fate can only be followed. A melon forced off the vine is not sweet. Actually, the Northern Mountain God has already told me that this yellow ox, though seemingly docile and harmless, is actually fierce in nature. A Dragon Gate realm beast, who would want to be confined to one peak, ridden by a mountain god for a lifetime? Once it enters the divine path, it's an eternal no return. If it gets provoked into its ferocity, it would be a disaster rather than a blessing for the Northern Mountain."
Zhang Guo clicked his tongue: "If this demon could take up residence at my Azure Essence Mountain, it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. At worst, we could treat it as an equal. Golden Cinnamon Temple would regard it as a guardian offering. Grand Commander Wei, what do you think?"
Wei Liang shook his head again, his eyes deep. He smiled and warned: "That Chen Ping'an, you'd better not provoke him. After he left the Grotto-Heaven of the Precious Pearl, he most likely became a disciple of some Legalist master. You should understand the behavior of us Legalist disciples. On the mountain and below, all are treated equally."
Zhang Guo sighed helplessly: "I know. The four types of headaches on the mountain: damned sword cultivators, Mohist debt-claimers, the Lion's Roar Room Daoists, and the last are you most illogical Legalist disciples."
Wei Liang smiled: "We are illogical?"
Zhang Guo's heart felt a little guilty. He suddenly laughed: "Then why doesn't Grand Commander Wei go reason with that yellow ox demon?"
Wei Liang said calmly: "The world's law and reason are centered on humans."
Inside Chen Ping'an's room, Pei Qian was copying books.
In the next room, the young Daoist Zhang Shanfeng was diligently cultivating.
This young Daoist from the Northern Juzhou Continent claimed to be of mediocre aptitude. Back then, his master had only taken him in as a closed-door disciple because he pitied the boy had nowhere else to go. And his subsequent cultivation path had proven that his master's judgment was correct. Zhang Shanfeng's progress was indeed slow, and he still hadn't successfully entered the Middle Five Realms. But he had a tenacious temperament and never gave up. The occasional disappointment was only over his inadequacy in exorcising demons and monsters. In this matter, his attitude was exactly the same as Chen Ping'an's: it's just a matter of walking one's own path. As long as one doesn't compare with others, there's no such thing as good or bad talent. On the contrary, he could walk more steadily.
The so-called talent and bone structure of a Qi refiner were very particular. The mystery all lay in the word "innate." Each person's opened grotto had a different size, determining how much spiritual energy they could hold. Besides that, the absorption speed also varied. And above that, there was the difference in the purity of the refined spiritual energy. Was it a pitiful trickling stream, or an awe-inspiring surging river? Only after all this could one even talk about the quality of the qi chamber and the future appearance of the Nascent Soul.
Chen Ping'an was now often practicing that awkward posture of the Heaven and Earth Stance, supporting himself with his fingers on the ground. After practicing boxing for so long, he had also figured out some tricks. For example, he could practice the three stances of the Mountain Toppling Fist simultaneously, walking the six-step walking stance in the Heaven and Earth Stance, and at the same time forming the Sword Furnace hand gesture with one hand while circulating the Eighteen Stops of Sword Qi.
There was a separate world within it.
But it also required some cost. Chen Ping'an often, on deserted mountain paths, "walked and walked" and strayed from the path others took, falling into streams or rolling down slopes.
Later, Pei Qian came up with a clumsy solution. She tied a rope to the top of the walking stick and then tied it to the Sword-Nurturing Gourd at Chen Ping'an's waist. She walked in front, leading him. Of course, she also needed to practice the six-step walking stance now.
The big and the small, walking like this, front to back, truly fellow travelers on the same path.
Now, Chen Ping'an was roughly circling around the table, walking upside down.
After Pei Qian finished copying the book, she watched Chen Ping'an's Heaven and Earth Stance countless times. She still found it endlessly amusing.
Chen Ping'an inverted his body and took a deep breath.
From Old Dragon City to Bee Tail Ferry, and then to this Golden Cinnamon Temple in Green Luan Kingdom, after the "swallow the boat sword" piercing his belly by Du Mao, he had slowly recovered from the third-grade strength to the current fourth-grade. To reach the peak of the fifth-grade, he would still need to rely on walking stances and brewing small medicinal wines, recuperating for quite some time.
But this had both advantages and disadvantages. The downside was that it greatly delayed his entry into the sixth-grade. The advantage was that the foundation of the fifth-grade would be laid more solidly.
Zhu Lian had once joked that even without relying on external objects, if both sides were pure martial artists, Chen Ping'an could still use his fifth-grade peak to steadily defeat the peak of their sixth-grade.
Sui Youbian scoffed at this, but Lu Baixiang was more inclined to agree.
As for the taciturn Wei Xian, he was busy pulling Pei Qian's leg at the time.
Chen Ping'an sat back at the table, checked the content Pei Qian had copied, confirmed that she hadn't been sloppy with any character, and signaled that she could go play.
Pei Qian whispered: "Master, I think those cassia trees behind the temple are far inferior to the cassia leaves and twigs that Aunt Gui gave me. They're worlds apart. And those Daoists still treat them like treasures? They even boast and say they are 'seeds from the moon.' If these were the descendants of that cassia tree in the Moon Palace, then wouldn't our Aunt Gui be a fairy living on the moon? Right?"
Chen Ping'an's heart stirred slightly. He said: "You must not speak ill of others behind their backs."
Pei Qian said, "Oh."
Chen Ping'an suddenly laughed himself: "I think you're not wrong."
Pei Qian beamed: "Master feels the same way, right? I knew it."
Chen Ping'an's smile faded. He warned: "So next time you see Aunt Gui, be more polite."
Pei Qian nodded: "Of course. I genuinely like Aunt Gui."
Chen Ping'an teased: "What about that little Daoist boy who lent you the umbrella at Golden Cinnamon Temple?"
Pei Qian punched the table in frustration: "This guy is so annoying. If I ever run into him alone, with no outsiders around, I'll beat him so badly that even his parents and master won't recognize him."
Chen Ping'an laughed: "Now you know what annoying is? Think about it. How did you pester Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang yourself?"
Pei Qian's eyes went wide. She thought for a long time, then had to take out her most beloved Pagoda Subduing Demon Talisman and stick it on her forehead, sighing: "Well, if you put it that way, Old Wei and Little Bai are quite pitiful."
Chen Ping'an gave her a knock on the head: "You only just realized? The book says a gentleman examines himself three times a day. You'd better do some serious self-reflection."
Pei Qian, holding her head, suddenly stood up and ran toward the door. She turned and said: "Master, I'll go tell Old Wei and Little Bai that next time we're at the market, I'll treat them each to a candied hawthorn stick or something."
After Pei Qian left, Chen Ping'an began to think about refining his second life-bound treasure.
As for the Yang Spirit relic of Du Mao, which was equivalent to an immortal's golden body, Chen Ping'an decided to wait until he arrived at the Mountain Cliff Academy in Great Sui and consult Cui Dongshan, who was skilled in this subject, before making a decision.
Chen Ping'an fundamentally didn't trust the "young national advisor" as a person, but he did believe in the knowledge and insight of the former senior disciple of the Sage of Literature.
This reunion with Zhang Shanfeng had allowed him to consult on many matters of cultivation, especially the refinement of life-bound treasures. Zhang Shanfeng, of course, told him everything he knew without reservation.
Although Zhang Shanfeng's cultivation level wasn't high, his knowledge and insight were indeed remarkable, probably due to his orthodox immortal sect background. After all, his master was a Dragon Tiger Mountain outer-surname celestial master. Although the level of an outer-surname celestial master could vary widely, anyone recorded in the Yellow-Purple Register of the Celestial Master's Mansion couldn't be ordinary.
Chen Ping'an took out a pot of cinnamon wine, found a small cup, and drank alone.
According to Zhang Shanfeng, even if financial resources and opportunities were not major issues, life-bound treasures should not be too many. It was best to complete the five elements. A life-bound treasure like the yellow earth-ox or a celadon vase to help quickly absorb spiritual energy was essential. Another for offense and killing, like a sword cultivator's life-bound flying sword—the ultimate offensive life-bound treasure in the world. One for defense, similar to the effects of a Golden Nectar Daoist Robe or a Military Strategist's armor pill. One like a small-sized martial arts armory or a Sword Graveyard within a square-inch space—a square-inch object of that kind. Unfortunately, such rare items were almost impossible to encounter, let alone seek. One was a protective object to be nurtured within one's own life-point acupoint. With this, one would naturally have a deterrent power against evil spirits and demons, and it could continuously increase one's own yang energy. It allowed one to walk through numerous unpredictable yin and baleful places, immune to water and fire, and untouched by filth.
Zhang Shanfeng also said that refining a life-bound treasure was a double-edged sword. Since it was a life-bound treasure, once it was damaged, the very foundation of the Dao would be damaged and shaken, with unimaginable consequences.
And each life-bound treasure needed to occupy a dwelling in one's acupoint. If one filled the ranks with inferior objects, or didn't consider the route of spiritual energy flow, the attributes could collide, hindering the Qi refiner's cultivation, even leading to a demonic deviation.
Zhang Shanfeng finally said that assembling the five elements of life-bound treasures was the dream of all Qi refiners except sword cultivators. But one shouldn't deliberately pursue it; it would cost too many immortal coins and require too much providence. Generally speaking, having three life-bound treasures of decent quality was enough: one for offense, one for defense, and one to assist the Qi refiner in absorbing and storing spiritual energy. That was the case for most Middle Five Realms Qi refiners. Only those of the earthly immortal level would pursue more.
Chen Ping'an was hesitant about whether to refine the golden literary courage given to him by the City God of the Carmine Commandery in the Multicolored Garment Kingdom.
Inside that green wooden box, according to what he was told, was a "Seal of the Assistant Earl of the Carmine Commandery City God" personally engraved by a certain generation of Grand Celestial Master from Dragon Tiger Mountain. Chen Ping'an decided to give it to Zhang Shanfeng as a farewell gift, presenting it to this future Dragon Tiger Mountain outer-surname celestial master.
This seal, which the Carmine Commandery City God Shen Wen had treasured so much, Chen Ping'an suspected was likely a semi-immortal weapon. Shen Wen himself said that if this seal was used in conjunction with the orthodox Dragon Tiger Mountain Five Thunder True Method, its power would be astonishing.
Originally, the seal was sealed in the City God Pavilion, and it was enough to block the baleful aura from the huge unmarked graveyard outside the Carmine Commandery city. This was sufficient to indicate its quality was high, unattainable by any mere magic artifact.
From the day he got the seal until today, Chen Ping'an had never even opened the green wooden box once.
The reason he was hesitant about refining the golden literary courage was that during the battle in the Multicolored Garment Kingdom, he had obtained a white bowl painted with the Five Sacred Mountains of the Ancient Elm Kingdom. On Xu Yuanxia's advice, he hadn't sold it at the Green Silkworm Shop. It could create the Five-Colored Sheji Earth of the Ancient Elm Kingdom. Chen Ping'an certainly wouldn't use that white bowl, which earned him "five snow coins" annually, as his wood-element life-bound treasure.
Instead, Chen Ping'an thought of the current southward momentum of the Great Li Iron Cavalry, which was advancing with irresistible force. To the north was his hometown, the Northern Sacred Mountain Clothed Cloud Mountain, with the true god Wei Bai. To the south, it seemed Fan Junmao was in charge as the Great Li's new Southern Sacred Mountain. If this came to pass, with a single province as the dynasty's territory, the Five-Colored Earth would become extremely precious. The Great Li court would certainly control it very tightly. So if Chen Ping'an could now confirm the locations of the other three sacred mountains besides the north and south, and gather enough Five-Colored Earth, then find a suitable container, the returns would be enormous.
But the difficulty lay in where the three sacred mountains would be located. The hidden danger was that by using this as a life-bound treasure, the short-term gains were huge, but it would be closely tied to the rise and fall of the Great Li's national power. However, below the Upper Five Realms, the benefits would definitely far outweigh the drawbacks, allowing him to quickly become an earthly immortal.
At this moment, while drinking, Chen Ping'an thought of the Great Li scouts in that snowstorm and also of his neighbor Song Jixin.
After draining the last of the cinnamon wine, Chen Ping'an finally decided to abandon the idea of refining the Five-Colored Sheji Earth.
Having made up his mind, Chen Ping'an had no more hesitation. It was time to prepare to refine the golden literary courage!
But to have the perfect alignment of time, place, and people as he had at Old Dragon City would be extremely difficult.
Chen Ping'an stood up, walked to the window, leaned on the sill, and stared blankly.
This was, after all, not like practicing boxing, where he could finish a million punches by persistent effort, one after another.
Xu Yuanxia knocked and entered. Chen Ping'an sat back at the table, took out another cup, and they drank together.
They didn't discuss anything serious. Xu Yuanxia talked about his travelogue of mountains and waters, hoping that one day a bookstore would be willing to print and publish it, so he could earn some private money.
Chen Ping'an then took out several small green bamboo slips inscribed with his experiences along the way: Old Dragon City's Cassia Island, those giant immortal ferry ships like the mountain-turtles, the sea of clouds above the city, the Rain Master idol of that maritime sect, the old flood dragon that had exhausted itself and fallen into the sea near the Flood Dragon Trench, the sword immortals on the paintings inside the Ganoderma Lucidum Studio of Inverted Suspension Mountain, the Horse-Running Path of the Sword Qi Great Wall, the Sky-Calling Street of the Planchette Sect on Parasol Leaf Continent, the sunrise at the Zhaoping Peak outside the Mirage City... He handed these dark green bamboo slips, densely inscribed with characters, to Xu Yuanxia. Xu Yuanxia then asked for more details. The two drank and talked, time flowing away in the wine.
In the next room, the young Daoist Zhang Shanfeng had stopped his meditation and breath regulation. He began to slowly practice a set of boxing moves. It was quite different from almost all boxing techniques in the world. It sought slowness rather than speed, not suitable for killing enemies, probably only for practice and health preservation. But Zhang Shanfeng thought it was the most suitable for his friend.
This set of boxing was his own creation, still just a rough framework. The theory behind it came from his master's drunken ramblings and his own insights. He just didn't know if Chen Ping'an would like it or be willing to learn.
In the capital of Green Luan Kingdom, at dusk, two Confucian scholars in blue robes sat at a roadside stall at a small table with quite a bit of oil stain. A bamboo tube full of chopsticks rested on the table.
One slim scholar, about thirty years of age, familiar with the other's temperament, said solemnly: "Zhou Juran, I'm telling you in advance, I can't eat spicy food."
The young scholar named Zhou Juran laughed: "Monkey, all the delicious food you miss out on in this world just because you won't eat spicy food!"
The elder scholar, playfully called "Monkey," shook his head helplessly.
The journey this time had truly been a heart-pounding experience. There was no helping it; Zhou Juran was simply a troublemaker. This person's sense of right and wrong was always much more ambiguous than that of other academy sages. But fortunately, on the whole, it was still acceptable to him.
This slim scholar, who fit the image of a scholar better than Zhou Juran, looked around. This time, Emperor Tang of Green Luan Kingdom was acting arbitrarily, insisting on making the victorious side of the Buddhist-Daoist debate the state religion, with a status higher than Confucianism.
If not for the fact that the Guanhu Academy's attention was currently consumed by that Daoist Heavenly Lord from the Northern Juzhou Continent, and they had no time to attend to this matter, then he, Hou Zheng, and Zhou Juran—one sage and one scholar—wouldn't be "traveling around" Green Luan Kingdom. They would have gone straight to the imperial palace to reprimand that Emperor Tang.
The scholar Zhou Juran ordered two portions of the local specialty "Pian Er Chuan" noodles, one with extra spice and one without. He started eating with the "Monkey" from Old Dragon City.
The young scholar, who called himself Zhou Ju when traveling, twirled a large bundle of noodles onto his chopsticks and stuffed it into his mouth. He said, slurring slightly, "I heard from my teacher that this Buddhist-Daoist debate in Green Luan Kingdom is quite innovative. Officially, it's said that the Buddhists and Daoists will each send ten true men and eminent monks to argue at the imperial palace, and the winner is determined by who is better at arguing. But the real deciding factor is in the shadows. They've specially invited an old man from the Cloud Forest Jiang Clan to be the chief arbiter, and then have two earthly immortals use their divine ability of 'viewing mountains and rivers in the palm' to observe a single Daoist and a single Buddhist monk from start to finish. They will arrange for these two to privately debate flawlessly, to see whose method is superior—Buddhist or Daoist. They have to settle a winner in both Buddhist scriptures and Daoist canon, and also compare their conduct in the world and their merit in converting others. Learning, self-cultivation, and proselytizing—three rounds of competition."
The elder scholar frowned. This inside information was the first time Zhou Juran had mentioned it. After a moment's thought, his brow relaxed: "No wonder the Mountain Lord wasn't very angry. Stones from other mountains can polish jade. This move by Green Luan Kingdom isn't entirely a bad thing."
Zhou Juran smiled knowingly and pointed at the scholar opposite with his chopsticks: "Hou Zheng, this is the thing I like best about you. You can see things openly and see the good in them."
The scholar named Hou Zheng, a sage of the academy, shook his head and said nothing.
Zhou Juran asked: "Something so big happened at Old Dragon City. Aren't you going home to take a look?"
Hou Zheng still shook his head: "It's useless to go. The family tradition handed down by the Marquis ancestors is already sparse, like a candle in its final flicker. If I go, it would only make the wick burn brighter for a bit. It's better to let it linger between life and death. I can only hope that a younger generation with responsibility will appear, and then I would dare to help."
Zhou Juran nodded: "You've thought it through well."
Hou Zheng smiled bitterly: "After all, I was born and raised there. How could I not think about it more?"
Zhou Juran stopped his chopsticks and asked: "Are you full?"
Hou Zheng glanced at the large white bowl in front of the other man, now empty without even soup left. He ignored Zhou Juran and buried his head in his own noodles.
Zhou Juran sighed and turned to shout: "Boss, another bowl... and remember to put a little less spice. The extra spicy at this stall of yours can really kill someone without paying for it."
On the main street, there were women wearing veils and maidens returning from an outing. Zhou Juran sighed: "Beautiful women returning from a spring outing, slightly sweaty, with that faint fragrance brought back from the mountains and lakes—it's truly beautiful."
Hou Zheng pretended not to hear.
Zhou Juran said again: "What if I join this game and turn the Buddhist-Daoist debate in Green Luan Kingdom into a small Three Teachings competition?"
Hou Zheng's reply was swift this time. Without lifting his head, he said calmly: "No."
Zhou Juran slapped the table: "Boss, extra spicy!"
While the academy sage and scholar sat eating Pian Er Chuan, not far from this capital city was a small, unremarkable Daoist temple. Its temple master was a middle-aged Daoist, unknown throughout Green Luan Kingdom. As a cultivator, he was utterly insignificant. This temple master wasn't even a Middle Five Realms Qi refiner. Compared to those ancient Daoist temples in Green Luan Kingdom that had lasted for a thousand or several hundred years, this White Cloud Temple had only been built a little over a century. The capital's prime feng shui sites had long since been snapped up by those "senior" temples and monasteries. The tiny White Cloud Temple, as small as a block of tofu, had no choice but to be squeezed right next to a noisy marketplace. The temple did have a few old trees, but even that meager asset had brought it great trouble. Children from the nearby market liked to fly kites, and the kites often got tangled in the temple's large trees. So every few days, women and men would come leading their crying children, curse outside the White Cloud Temple, then rush inside to scold the cowering little Daoists, ordering them to set up ladders to climb the trees and retrieve the broken kites. Once the kites were retrieved, the children would stop crying and start laughing. The adults, whose affairs had been delayed, mostly continued to grumble and inevitably would drop a few words about how these obstructive trees should have been chopped down for firewood long ago.
That gaunt, middle-aged temple master would always come out of his study, but only dare to stand furtively in the distance, letting his junior brother or his own disciples bear the brunt of it.
Once, a little Daoist from the temple sneaked out, flew a kite with the neighbor kids he knew well, and it also got caught in a tree. After a fierce inner struggle, he couldn't bear to part with the kite, so he braced himself and told the temple. The result was that his master, the temple master, finally caught a scapegoat and beat him until his bottom was almost split open. But that same day, the little Daoist was all smiles. Somehow, a porcelain doll he had been coveting for a long time had appeared in his sleeping quarters, and he showed it off to the other little acolytes for a long time.
Now, it was deep twilight. The middle-aged Daoist in his small study raised his head. The long, focused staring at the text made his eyes ache.
On two of the study's four walls, full bookshelves held a vast, ocean-like collection of Daoist scriptures, but they were also interspersed with quite a few Buddhist sutras and Confucian classics.
The middle-aged Daoist had read them all carefully. Over the years, his reading notes, written in small regular script, had amounted to over nine hundred thousand characters.
Others cultivated to be above kings and nobility, to seek enlightenment and eternal life, to break free from the great cage of heaven and earth. This temple master of a small monastery cultivated just to live a few more years, so he could read more books.
He wanted to read all the sacred texts of the Three Teachings and the Hundred Schools.
Although Chen Ping'an and his party were temporarily staying under the roof of the Great Marsh Gang, Zhu Fengxian had not come once to ingratiate himself with Chen Ping'an. It was only on the morning of the ceremony that he invited Chen Ping'an to ascend the mountain together to the summit of Golden Cinnamon Temple.
On the way up the mountain, Zhu Fengxian walked side by side with Chen Ping'an, talking only about the local customs of Green Luan Kingdom.
At the gate of Golden Cinnamon Temple, Xu Borui greeted them with a smile and arranged for Zhu Fengxian and Chen Ping'an's groups to sit in adjacent front-row seats at the temple's disciple-recruiting venue.
The old immortal, Temple Master Zhang Guo, ultimately accepted nine disciples. Zhu Ziyang and Liu Qingcheng were naturally among them. Of the other seven, two were a brother and sister from the market, and the remaining five were from wealthy and noble families in Green Luan, Celebration Mountain, and Cloud Chaser Kingdoms.
Including Xu Borui and two others, Temple Master Zhang Guo now had twelve direct disciples.
The little Daoist boy who had lent the umbrella to Pei Qian was now the senior fellow apprentice to the nine new juniors. Standing behind Xu Borui, he couldn't stop grinning.
He then quickly looked at Pei Qian, only to find that she wasn't even looking at him. The little Daoist boy felt a bit disappointed.
The ceremony of Daoist immortals taking on disciples was so full of red tape and tedious formalities that it took nearly an hour.
After the ceremony, Golden Cinnamon Temple presented a valuable cassia-handled oilpaper umbrella to each of the leaders of the various factions: Chen Ping'an, Zhu Fengxian, the Rouge Studio old woman, and others.
Zhu Fengxian would stay halfway up the mountain for a few more days. After all, Zhu Ziyang had just become a disciple of Golden Cinnamon Temple's Zhang Guo. He was worried that she might be unaccustomed to the environment or have trouble adapting, and he wasn't comfortable leaving just yet.
Having witnessed the disciple-accepting ceremony for free and received a free cassia umbrella, Chen Ping'an took leave of Zhu Fengxian and the Rouge Studio old woman. He and his party left Azure Essence Mountain, continuing their journey along remote, deep forest paths toward that Grand Commander's mansion.
The yellow earth-ox rejoined the group, with Pei Qian sitting on its back.
When Pei Qian had first proposed riding the ox, Chen Ping'an had given her a solid knock on the head. But the yellow ox didn't refuse and allowed Pei Qian to sit on its back.
Compared to the four from the scroll in the Lotus Root Flour Blessed Land, Zhang Shanfeng and Xu Yuanxia knew more about mountain affairs, so they were especially astonished.
Another ten days passed. They passed by a village nestled among three mountains. At dusk, smoke curled upward from chimneys. Black tiles, white walls, carved beams, painted rafters—a paradise on earth.
Chen Ping'an and his party walked down a ridge path and reached the village entrance. They found that they couldn't communicate in the local dialect. Soon, a village school teacher came and communicated with Chen Ping'an in halting Bottle Gourd Continent standard speech. As it happened, Chen Ping'an learned that almost everyone in this village was surnamed Chen. They were a martial arts family that had worked as armed escorts for generations. But according to ancestral rules and clan regulations, no matter how poor a family was, their children had to complete four years of schooling before they could drop out and work the land.
The clan elder was a man in his seventies, hale and hearty, walking swiftly. He wore a long gray gown and cloth shoes. According to the schoolteacher, this old clan elder was highly skilled in martial arts and highly respected throughout the surrounding hundreds of miles. Because of a heroic act of stopping a galloping horse in a busy street to save a child, he had earned the reputation of "Archway Chen." When the old man learned that Chen Ping'an was also surnamed Chen, he was extremely delighted and warmly invited them to his home as guests. They had already finished their evening meal, but the old man immediately had his family prepare another lavish spread. He himself brought a pot of homemade sorghum wine and pulled Chen Ping'an to drink with him.
The old man loved drinking, but at the table, he didn't like to force others to drink. As a result, Chen Ping'an ended up drinking more than he should have.
In the end, he didn't even know how he got to the room. When he woke up in the middle of the night, he found himself lying on an unfamiliar, antique-style large bed. He threw off the quilt, put on his boots, and pushed open the door. Looking up, he saw exquisite bracketing. Back in the Lotus Root Flour Blessed Land, he had asked State Minister Zhong Qiu for many engineering books on bridge construction, including one called "Methods of Construction." Chen Ping'an had read it most frequently. It wasn't just about bridges; it also introduced houses, pavilions, and other structures. Chen Ping'an had been completely absorbed.
The houses in this village were mostly connected, so the corridors were often very long. After brothers divided the family property, they still lived adjacent to each other.
Chen Ping'an walked out of that corridor, followed the bluestone path all the way to a pond, and stood there for the night.
He didn't really think about much, just spaced out.
The next day, the old clan elder insisted on detaining them again with such warm hospitality that it was hard to refuse.
Pei Qian, although she couldn't speak the local dialect, was still playing with a bunch of children her age.
When Chen Ping'an went to call Pei Qian for a meal, the children were playing a game of eagle catching chicks.
Pei Qian wanted Chen Ping'an to join in. Chen Ping'an smiled, curled his index finger, and made a motion as if to knock her on the head.
But Pei Qian pestered him relentlessly, and he gave in, taking the role of the mother hen protecting the chicks, while Pei Qian acted as the eagle catching them.
How could Pei Qian ever catch the "chick" at the very end of Chen Ping'an's line?
So she switched places with one of the other children.
In the end, it was Pei Qian who laughed the loudest.
A young Daoist stood in the distance, smiling and waving, signaling that they were just waiting for the master and disciple to come to the table for the meal.
The children also dispersed and went home, accompanied by the smoke from cooking fires and the setting sun, along with the elders shouting their children's names from their doorsteps.
Chen Ping'an took Pei Qian's hand and walked toward Zhang Shanfeng.
As the three walked through the alleys, a short, wine-nosed old Daoist suddenly appeared in front of them. He wore a black Daoist robe, with lifelike, fiery-red dragons embroidered on both sleeves.
Zhang Shanfeng froze on the spot.
Chen Ping'an held his breath and concentrated, as if facing a great enemy.
Pei Qian, after just a few glances, quickly averted her eyes and dared not look again.
Zhang Shanfeng hurried forward, puzzled: "Master, why are you here?"
The old man glared: "If I hadn't come to drag you back to the mountain to cultivate, were you planning to take a wife, have children, and spread your branches?"
Zhang Shanfeng turned to Chen Ping'an and gave a helpless smile, as if to say, "My master's just like this. Don't mind him."
After the young Daoist turned his head, the old man stared blankly at Zhang Shanfeng's slightly pale face, then looked at his disciple's shoulder, which had been pierced by a life-bound flying sword. He stomped his foot and roared: "Who dared to hurt you?! Give me the name, and I'll... go make his straw effigy right away!"
Zhang Shanfeng wiped his face with his palm. With a master like this, he really had no face to see Chen Ping'an.
Chen Ping'an, with a solemn expression, cupped his fists in salute to the old Daoist from the Northern Juzhou Continent.
The old man, a Dragon Tiger Mountain outer-surname celestial master, nodded at Chen Ping'an and addressed him directly through the ripples of his mind lake: "Kid, that Bridge of Long Life of yours was destroyed and then rebuilt, wasn't it? Quite bumpy. But that life-bound treasure of the water element you're refining now is truly full of immortal aura. Mm, not bad, not bad."
After speaking, the old man turned back to Zhang Shanfeng and asked him to extend his palm. The old Daoist drew a talisman in the air over the palm with two fingers joined. When the talisman was complete, he flicked his sleeve, and a golden light flashed and vanished in an instant. Then the True Martial Sword, which should have been temporarily stored at the Grand Commander's mansion, along with Xu Yuanxia's short knife, fell out of thin air.
Zhang Shanfeng was not surprised at all. He reached out and caught the True Martial Sword and the short knife, not forgetting to turn to Chen Ping'an and explain: "My master's cultivation isn't high. He can't do much else, but he's very skilled at these kinds of petty tricks."
The old man stroked his beard and smiled, looking very pleased. Being exposed by his closed-door disciple like this, he wasn't ashamed; on the contrary, he was proud.
Chen Ping'an looked at the young Daoist, then at the old Daoist with fire dragons on his sleeves. He always felt that you, Zhang Shanfeng, might be in the dark about your master's true abilities.
The old man used his toe to draw a seemingly random "ghost talisman" on the bluestone ground, leaving no trace, but then told Zhang Shanfeng to stand in the middle of it. Zhang Shanfeng opened his mouth as if to speak, but the old man said in an unquestioning tone: "I'm taking you to Dragon Tiger Mountain."
Zhang Shanfeng walked into that seemingly nonexistent "talisman diagram," tossed the short knife to Chen Ping'an, and said with a wry smile: "Help me apologize to Brother Xu. It's too rushed; I can only leave without saying goodbye."
Chen Ping'an caught Xu Yuanxia's short knife. Remembering something, he quickly took out the green wooden box from his size-adjustable object and tossed it to Zhang Shanfeng: "Inside is a Dharma seal from the City God Pavilion of the Carmine Commandery in the Multicolored Garment Kingdom. It's a gift for you. Best used in conjunction with the Five Thunder True Method."
Zhang Shanfeng saw that the wooden box looked old and ordinary, so he put it safely into his bosom.
The old man suddenly narrowed his eyes, then instantly returned to normal. He asked with a smile: "Make a request. I'll count to ten. Miss the chance, and it's gone."
Without hesitation, Chen Ping'an said: "Then I'd trouble you, old true man, to thoroughly teach Zhang Shanfeng some profound Daoist techniques. I earnestly implore you, old true man, to... put a little more heart into it."
The old man laughed heartily and wagged a finger at Chen Ping'an, clicking his tongue: "Good kid. Subtly cursing me, are you?"
The old man reached out and grabbed Zhang Shanfeng. Their figures flickered and vanished. Chen Ping'an noticed that the sparse spiritual energy around the alley hadn't stirred at all.
Chen Ping'an fell into deep thought.
Pei Qian tugged at his sleeve and asked: "What should we do?"
Chen Ping'an snapped out of it and smiled: "Let's go eat."