Chapter 428: Autumn Hunt Season, Please Enter the Trap

Chapter 428: Autumn Hunt Season, Please Enter the Trap

When autumn winds rise and crab roe is fat, this is the best time in Pondwater City to feast on Golden-Robed Crabs. As soon as meal times arrive, the entire city is filled with that unique fragrance. Even some gourmands who have traveled thousands of miles from the Vermillion Flame Dynasty come to raise their cups at waterside mansions and taverns where they have good connections. However, this year, few people have come to Stone Brush Nation, which is closest to Letter Creek Lake, to enjoy this delicacy—after all, their lives are nearly forfeit.

The Letter Creek Lake Island Lord Alliance was to be held in about ten days. At that time, over a hundred island lords would ascend Palace Willow Island, whose master had been absent for many years, to elect a River-Lake Sovereign. The River-Cutting True Lord Liu Zhimao of Green Gorge Island was naturally the popular choice. But this was Letter Creek Lake—the very place where, right after feasts and joyous banquets had ended, more than four hundred rogue cultivators would join forces to kill that Nascent Soul and Golden Core sword cultivator. In the past few days, news had spread from Pondwater City: that little demon Gu Can was coming to the city to eat crabs. Pondwater City's young city lord Fan Yan had already begun spending heavily to purchase the plumpest Golden-Robed Crabs from Letter Creek Lake—specifically the rarest "Bamboo Branch" variety, enormous in size and brimming with abundant water transport essence. Ordinary fishermen could never hope to catch even one in their lifetimes; they wouldn't even see one. These were treasures that only Cave Dwelling realm cultivators could try to catch when luck favored them.

Now, Green Gorge Island was at its zenith, but over the past year, Liu Zhimao had begun to halt his expansion. It was like a person who had been eating voraciously and was now a bit stuffed—he needed to slow down and digest. Otherwise, what seemed like a great situation was still a pile of loose sand with unstable hearts. On this point, Liu Zhimao remained clear-headed. He was extremely strict in screening the mountain and marsh rogue cultivators who came to pledge allegiance to Green Gorge Island. The specific affairs were handled by a female cultivator named Tian Hujun, one of his disciples. She had originally been Gu Can's second senior sister, but now she had smoothly become the senior sister. The eldest senior brother had been beaten to death by their little junior brother, Gu Can, after all. They couldn't leave that position vacant—it would be improper and would sound bad if word got out.

Nowadays, surrounding Gu Can were a large group of young cultivators and sons of wealthy and powerful families with no ordinary status. For example, Pondwater City's young city lord Fan Yan, who was hosting a banquet for "Brother Gu," was the city lord's only son, doted on by his wife to the point where he feared neither heaven nor earth. He claimed that in this life, he only admired heroes and good men, not any earthly immortals. In short, he was brainless. Nearly thirty years old, he still liked to call Gu Can "Brother Gu." The people of Pondwater City all regarded this young city lord as a joke.

Besides him, there were Fourth Senior Brother Qin Que and Sixth Senior Brother Chao Zhe of Green Gorge Island—both outstanding cultivators in Letter Creek Lake, with good talent and never hesitating to kill. They were the River-Cutting True Lord's capable lieutenants in his campaigns. Also present was Lu Caisang, the young junior disciple of Oriole Island's island lord. He was several hundred years younger than his senior brother the island lord, and because he was a disciple accepted by an old ancestor before going into seclusion, his seniority was extraordinarily high. Oriole Island had been one of the few large islands that could match Green Gorge Island before the latter's rise to prominence, though now its momentum could never compare.

There was also Yuan Yuan, the young island lord of Drumming Island, nicknamed "Round-Round." His parents were a Daoist couple on Drumming Island, both Golden Core cultivators. The wife's surname was Yuan, and the husband's was Yuan as well—he married into the family. Yuan Yuan's mother was a fierce and domineering woman who gave even Liu Zhimao headaches. More importantly, this female cultivator was said to have a significant background: in her early years, she was a favored concubine of a Nascent Soul sword cultivator from the Vermillion Flame Dynasty.

Then there was Stone Brush Nation's prince, Han Jingling, and the general's son, Huang He.

Gu Can, the playboy Fan Yan, Qin Que, Chao Zhe, Lu Caisang, Yuan Yuan, Han Jingling, Huang He—plus that senior sister Tian Hujun, who disliked showing her face but followed Gu Can's lead in everything.

Except for Tian Hujun, who had been dragged in by Gu Can forcefully, the other eight had congenial dispositions. It was said that on Gu Can's suggestion, they caught a big rooster from somewhere unknown, smeared its blood on their lips as an oath, and became sworn brothers, calling themselves the Ten Heroes of Letter Creek Lake. Not to mention Letter Creek Lake—even the other eight were secretly puzzled. There were clearly nine people, so why did they claim to be the Ten Heroes?

At that time, the little demon Gu Can had merely stood barefoot on the second seat of honor, hopping and skipping, pointing to the vacant first seat, grinning, and said, "This seat is reserved for later."

Gu Can wasn't old, but after arriving at Letter Creek Lake, he had shot up like bamboo shoots after spring rain, growing a big chunk every year. A child of ten or so was already the height of a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old youth. According to rumors, the flood dragon that liked to feed on qi refiners could nourish the little demon Gu Can's physical body. On Green Gorge Island, the assassination that came closest to succeeding had a blade slashing heavily across the little demon's spine. If it had been an ordinary mortal, they would have died on the spot. Even a lower-fifth-realm qi refiner would probably need at least a couple of years of recuperation before getting out of bed. Yet in just half a month, the little demon was back in action, sitting atop the flood dragon's head—which he called "Little Mudskipper"—happily roaming Letter Creek Lake.

That day, from a high tower in Pondwater City overlooking Letter Creek Lake, one could see a huge multi-story ship slowly approaching. The ship was as massive as the city walls of Pondwater City themselves. Around the ship, besides the water waves churned out by the hull, fine ripples spread in circles over the lake surface a hundred-odd zhang away, barely noticeable.

A figure who looked like a youth was actually wearing a form-fitting ink-green python robe. He sat barefoot on the railing at the bow, swinging his legs. Every so often, he would habitually sniff his nose, as if though time had passed and he had grown taller, he still had two streams of snot hanging from his face, needing to retract those two little green dragons back into his cave dwelling.

Behind him stood three people: Senior Sister Tian Hujun, who now managed the life-and-death authority over nearly ten thousand people on Green Gorge Island and its vassal islands, already bearing some of the River-Cutting True Lord's imposing manner; and on her left and right, her two junior brothers, Qin Que and Chao Zhe. Behind them were a row of a dozen or so beautiful young women with various expressions, their robes open at the chest, though for this outing they had changed into more modest and appropriate attire. And beneath the lake water around the multi-story ship was a "Little Mudskipper" several hundred zhang long.

At the shore dock, Pondwater City's young city lord Fan Yan had already occupied it, driving away all idle bystanders. Drumming Island's young island lord Yuan Yuan, Oriole Island's "Little Ancestor" Lu Caisang—so called by a crowd of white-haired old cultivators—and Stone Brush Nation's prince Han Jingling, who had been taking refuge here for half a year, were chatting and laughing on the shore. Only Huang He, son of Stone Brush Nation's grand general, was missing. There was no help for it—Huang He's father, who commanded sixty thousand elite border troops in southeastern Stone Brush Nation, had reportedly just stabbed the Stone Brush emperor in the back, defecting to the Great Li Song Clan's iron cavalry and planning to support Prince Han Jingling as the new emperor. He was very busy, and Huang He couldn't get away. He had only sent a secret letter to Pondwater City, asking his brother Han Jingling to await good news.

The outline of Pondwater City's city walls grew increasingly clear.

Tian Hujun walked to the ship's railing and said softly, "Do you really want to change the route into the city and deliberately give that group of assassins a chance?"

The youth crossed his arms over his chest, grinning, "Otherwise, do you really think I came here to eat crabs? Damn, I'm almost sick of those things. Eating them is such a hassle. They're not as good as the fried crabs from the creek back home—crispy and crunchy in one bite, no chopsticks needed. That flavor, that's the real deal. You bunch of Letter Creek Lake hicks, what do you know? With a few stinking coins in your pockets, you show off. Look at me—do I need to carry silver? Do I need to bring a bunch of followers?"

Tian Hujun smiled. "Little junior brother is a phoenix among men. We common folk naturally can't compare."

The youth leaned back, twisting his head, and snickered, "Senior Sister, even if you say nice things like that, you don't qualify to be one of those open-chested young ladies. You're too ugly, and your chest is too small. How pitiful. Any ordinary mirror is a demon-revealing mirror for you plain-faced women."

Tian Hujun smiled awkwardly. In her heart, she didn't think this was a bad thing.

On a quiet lakeside path far from the dock, the willow trees were turning yellow. A middle-aged man stood by a willow tree, gazing at the multi-story ship on Letter Creek Lake. He took down his gourd of wine, raised it, then lowered it, raised and lowered again, but never drank.

——

As the local people of Dragonspring Commandery grew more familiar with so-called mountain immortals, some began to catch on. They realized that not all healers under heaven could make ointments that allowed people to feel no pain and peacefully close their eyes through difficult, severe illnesses. Especially when people were continuously accepted into Dragonspring Sword Sect—even among the criminal exiles of the Lu Dynasty, two children had leaped to success and become little immortals on Divine Beauty Mountain.

The Yang Family Shop became bustling. Old women of all sorts brought their younger children to the medicine shop, cramming their way in, seeking immortals. Old Man Yang, who sat in the back courtyard, was naturally the greatest "suspect." This caused the Yang Family Shop to nearly close its doors. The current head of the Yang clan, who had a family motto passed down through generations, was almost so ashamed that he knelt and kowtowed to Old Man Yang to apologize. All were neighbors from the vicinity, or familiar faces from the town. Through various connections, they could always find some relationship. The Yang family was not among the four great surnames or ten major clans in the town—they were just a well-off, prosperous household. They couldn't very well have their shop assistants drive people away. Besides, unless they were willing to shed blood, they really couldn't chase them off.

When it was truly unbearable, the medicine shop had to have people guard the door, earnestly persuading: "Old Man Yang isn't any old immortal at all; he's just an old man with a few ancestral secret recipes." Who would believe such nonsense? The more they said it, the more suspicious people became. They increasingly felt that Old Man Yang, who liked to puff smoke, was a reclusive master.

Fortunately, Old Man Yang didn't seem to care much about all this. He didn't make the Yang family head close the shop directly. Instead, he had the medicine shop spread the word: he had some skill in physiognomy and bone-reading to assess a person's weight, but each time he examined a child to see if they had the talent to become an immortal, he would charge a fee, and it wasn't cheap—one Snowflower Coin.

The townspeople were used to poverty. Even those families that had suddenly come into money and could think of securing a mountain path for their descendants weren't the type to throw money around carelessly. Some sold everything they had to scrape together a thousand taels of silver; others borrowed from friends who had suddenly gotten rich by selling heirlooms. Fortunately, many chose to wait and see. On the first day, not too many people came to the medicine shop with money. Old Man Yang spoke a bunch of cryptic immortal words—that didn't matter much. What mattered was that Old Man Yang only shook his head; he didn't fancy anyone.

After the number of visitors decreased, the medicine shop spread another message: they no longer required Snowflower Coins. Just buy a package of medicine at the Yang Family Shop, and that would suffice. After all, everyone was neighbors; one Snowflower Coin was indeed a bit expensive. As a result, the number of visitors plummeted. "Has the Yang Family medicine shop gone mad for money?" Then, one after another, people regretted their decisions and came to the medicine shop demanding their Snowflower Coin back, throwing tantrums and using every means possible. The shop was exceptionally firm on this matter, yielding not an inch. Not to mention a Snowflower Coin—not even a single copper coin could be returned. In the whole world, a mutually agreed transaction had no reason for refunds. Did they really think the Yang Family Shop was a charity? Everyone hit a wall. Then, suddenly, one day, a fellow who was close to the Yang Family Shop, after getting drunk, claimed that through his connections, he had gotten his immortal money back. Moreover, the Yang Family Shop's own people had said that Old Man Yang was just a charlatan who had mechanically applied a tattered physiognomy book. Even the initial rumors had been deliberately spread by the Yang Family Shop to make money for the medicine shop.

The pot exploded.

Overnight, the Yang Family Shop's reputation was ruined. The Yang clan members were like rats crossing the street, everyone blaming and complaining. They demanded that the Yang family head make the old man, who had no real skill but dared to pretend to be a god, pack his bedding and get out of the medicine shop. The Yang family head talked himself hoarse, barely managing to appease the clan.

After that, the medicine shop finally had peace. Estimated that even if the medicine shop and Old Man Yang begged people to have their bones examined and fortunes told, no one would be willing. Even if it were free, no one would bother—unless they were paid. To the point that when the medicine shop replaced two shop assistants—one a kiln girl from Riding Dragon Lane, the other a child from Peach Leaf Lane—no one cared anymore.

These messy affairs: the layman watches the excitement, the insider watches the method, and those with affinity watch the Great Way.

A man from the town who had disappeared for a few years and then reappeared—Zheng Dafeng, the gatekeeper—had become a hunchback. He hadn't brought back a wife or any money from foreign lands. Though Zheng Dafeng wasn't a shop assistant, he often set up a bench at the medicine shop's front door lately, not blocking anyone, just watching the excitement. Still that shiftless, roguish demeanor, his eyes sly, constantly lingering on women's chests and buttocks, making the town women despise him even more.

After returning to the town, besides seeing this farce, Zheng Dafeng also saw many who had struck it rich staying up all night gambling in groups, or haunting the newly built brothels—entering with heads held high, leaving with weak legs. There were also those whose silver was so plentiful they couldn't count it, their backs stiffer than the old locust tree. Men and old bachelors who used to dare not even breathe loudly on Fortune Street or Peach Leaf Lane now had the nerve to drink with the stewards and discuss whether they could buy one or two decent-looking maidservants—preferably women who could read and write. Young maidens would be best. In the past, they wouldn't even dare dream of pressing a woman who smelled of books onto their bed. Only then would this life not be a waste! In the past, a pouch of copper coins made you a big shot; now silver was just their grandson. Money was nothing but a fart!

Money flowed like water, passing through different hands. So did people's hearts.

After autumn arrived, Zheng Dafeng felt some worry.

Basking in the mild autumn sun, Zheng Dafeng lowered his head and glanced at his crotch. He grew even more worried, always feeling he had let down his little brother. Was he really going to transform from a handsome, dashing young bachelor into an old bachelor? He couldn't help but think of that woman outside the Dust Medicine Shop who had finally claimed her surname was Jiang. Her weight was probably equal to two Zheng Dafengs. Zheng Dafeng shuddered. The girl was a good girl, but some things really couldn't be handled just by turning off the lights. A girl that big, no matter how good her temperament or how willing to be friends—Zheng Dafeng would rather let his little brother suffer than shortchange himself!

As Zheng Dafeng felt guilty toward that Miss Jiang for having such thoughts, Ruan Qiong suddenly appeared in the medicine shop's back courtyard today. Old Man Yang, for once, didn't smoke his dry tobacco. He was dozing in the sun, then opened his eyelids, glanced at Ruan Qiong, and said, "Rare guest."

Ruan Qiong carried two jugs of wine and raised his arm.

Old Man Yang shook his head, smiling. "Not my thing."

Ruan Qiong moved a long bench and sat facing the main house, with Old Man Yang across a courtyard.

Old Man Yang asked, "It's rare for Saint Ruan to be unsettled. Worried about Ruan Xiu?"

Ruan Qiong nodded.

Old Man Yang rarely joked. "Is it so hard to accept Chen Ping'an as a son-in-law?"

Ruan Qiong took a sip of wine. "Chen Ping'an is not a bad person. Although I'm unwilling to take him as a disciple, it's not that I don't recognize his character. If Ruan Xiu weren't Ruan Xiu, if she were just an ordinary daughter, I'd let her do as she pleases. Perhaps... I'd often have a drink with this son-in-law. That wouldn't be bad. And I wouldn't worry about my daughter being wronged—only afraid that she might be too overbearing and drive her husband away. But my daughter is Xiu Xiu."

Old Man Yang nodded. "When things are too good, there are also worries. I can understand."

Ruan Qiong drank what was truly sorrow-drowning liquor, taking a big gulp, wiping his mouth, and said gloomily, "Because the Old Divine Lord had already spoken about some things, I can guess a bit of the general scheme of Cui Chan this time. But the specifics—how vicious, how interlocking, how carefully set—I can't guess. That's not my strong suit, and I don't want to bother. However, in cultivation, the most taboo is dragging one's feet. My Xiu Xiu, if she sinks deeper, will eventually get into trouble. So I sent her to Letter Creek Lake this time."

Old Man Yang said, "You're willing to cast a peach, and Cui Chan, being so clever, will surely repay with a plum. Rest assured. He'll handle things beautifully, seamlessly, at least not doing more harm than good."

Saying this, Old Man Yang smiled slightly, as if recalling something. "Casting a peach to receive a plum, substituting a plum for a peach... Hmm, both have some flavor. But whether one chews out bitter goldthread or sweet syrup depends on the person."

Ruan Qiong didn't bother to wrestle with such riddles. Not just him—probably aside from Qi Jingchun, all the Three Teachings figures stationed in Pear Blossom Cave Heaven couldn't guess the thoughts, plans, and pursuits of this Old Divine Lord. Ruan Qiong never engaged in pointless struggles. With plenty of good time, forging iron and casting swords kept him busy enough, and he had to worry about Xiu Xiu's future. He didn't have much leisure to spar with people in word games.

Old Man Yang had just mentioned it casually, but he returned to the main topic. "You want to make a clean break. By using Gu Can of Mud Vase Lane and borrowing that Embroidery Tiger's hidden schemes, you hope to create a rift between Ruan Xiu and Chen Ping'an. The more transparent their minds, the more they like to dig into details. When they're stubborn, a flaw as small as a sesame seed becomes bigger than the sky. So I didn't stop Ruan Xiu from leaving Dragonspring Commandery. This is also your natural sentiment as a father, Ruan Qiong."

Ruan Qiong sighed for no reason. "This Cui Chan is truly formidable."

He, Ruan Qiong, hoped his daughter Ruan Xiu would stop entangling herself in romantic matters and focus on cultivation, to reach the upper five realms as soon as possible, at least gain the ability to protect herself.

Just when he wanted to sleep, someone handed him a pillow.

Ruan Qiong had no contact with Cui Chan; Cui Chan had not insinuated anything. Everything was Ruan Qiong voluntarily stepping onto the chessboard, becoming one of the pieces on Cui Chan's board along with his daughter. This was Cui Chan's precise calculation and correct prediction of the human heart—that was a national-level player's skill off the board.

Old Man Yang laughed. "Don't underestimate the former chief disciple of the Literary Sage. Half the rules of that 'Three-Four Debate' that determined the entire literary vein of Bright World were set by Cui Chan. Of course he's formidable. At that time, Cui Chan was already a bird startled by the twang of a bow, and a bit guilty, dodging and hiding, working hard, not daring to show up. So he lost his last chance to mend the master-disciple relationship. But then again, this might be the Literary Sage's invisible protection for Cui Chan. Look at my chief disciple—such a teacher-betraying disciple, yet he's more like a homeless dog than the Paragon Sage himself. How can your Mencian lineage still pester him? Don't you claim to have compassion? Then let Cui Chan go like a fart. So Cui Chan escaped safely to our Bottle Gourd Continent. Ruan Qiong, don't look at me like that. This kind of shamelessness is something the Literary Sage is capable of. That's why among all the accompanying sages, I find this gentleman the most agreeable."

Ruan Qiong twisted his mouth. "The twisty guts of scholars probably loop more than all the mountain ranges of Bright World."

Old Man Yang chuckled. "Add the Daoist Green Abyss World, the Buddhist Lotus World, and the demon's Barbaric World together, and they still can't compare."

This was the first time Ruan Qiong felt that drinking and chatting with this Old Divine Lord was better than expected. Perhaps he could come often? Anyway, a grown daughter is not one to keep—even if she stayed by his side, she wouldn't keep her father in her heart much. Every time he thought of this, Ruan Qiong wished he could open a wine shop in the town himself, to avoid having to go to that shop and be teased and mocked by a market woman.

After Ruan Qiong left, Zheng Dafeng entered the back courtyard.

As a disciple, the first thing Zheng Dafeng did upon returning to the town was, naturally, to visit his master. That meeting was the first time in his life that Zheng Dafeng dared to look Old Man Yang in the eye, calmly saying some rebellious words—like how he had no ambition, how in the future he would either go back to the relay station to scrape a living, or go to Chen Ping'an's Fallen Mountain to keep being a gatekeeper. And he, Zheng Dafeng, didn't think it was shameful. A peaceful, stable life was just fine.

Old Man Yang puffed smoke, neither approving nor scolding.

Zheng Dafeng finished speaking his mind and left the medicine shop's back courtyard. Although he was still a bit nervous, he felt an unprecedented lightness in his heart. Then he found it somewhat laughable. Back in the day, he was at least an eighth-realm martial artist and didn't dare speak to his master like this. Every time he spoke, his master never said more than ten words. Zheng Dafeng had always feared his master would mistake him for someone who had given up and would look down on him even more. But after thinking it over, Zheng Dafeng felt this was fine. Stay in the town, visit the old man at the medicine shop every now and then, whether the old man got annoyed or not.

Zheng Dafeng entered the courtyard, sat on a bench, and didn't speak. He planned to just sit with his master for a while, then leave. Though he had a belly full of words, he knew his master's temper well. Once the master made a decision, not even Li Er, let alone him, could change the master's mind anywhere in the world.

Old Man Yang puffed his dry tobacco, blew out a smoke ring, and said slowly, "When you came home, didn't you bring a tobacco pipe? Why did you throw it away? Ashamed to be seen with it?"

Zheng Dafeng felt struck by lightning, scorched crisp and tender. The first thing he did was start counting on his fingers, overjoyed: "Master, today you said twenty-two words in one breath!"

Old Man Yang asked, "Is a disciple who doesn't even dare look his master in the eye worth a few words from that master? Were you worthy back then?"

Zheng Dafeng sat up straight. "This disciple has disappointed you, Master."

Old Man Yang's following words were as acerbic as ever: "Without hope, there is no disappointment to begin with."

Eight words. This was the most normal master-disciple conversation Zheng Dafeng remembered before he left home.

Zheng Dafeng didn't feel wronged. He was still quite cheerful. With these eight words, the master had already spoken thirty words today. When he saw Li Er later, he would definitely brag about it!

Old Man Yang reached out and tossed something—the tobacco pipe that Zheng Dafeng had secretly discarded outside the town. Zheng Dafeng caught it and found it was even filled with tobacco.

Old Man Yang said, "I only ask you one question: Are the others worthy of being schemed against like this by Cui Chan?"

Zheng Dafeng sighed. He rubbed his fingers together casually to light the tobacco. This little skill he still had.

Old Man Yang said, "If Chen Ping'an hadn't had his destiny porcelain shattered, he would have had earthly immortal talent—neither great nor bad, just not outstanding. Now that Chen Ping'an's original heart is broken, his qi refiner path cut off, he still has the martial path to walk. At worst, utterly disheartened, he can still be a lost and lonely rich man on Fallen Mountain with a stable life. What's bad about that?"

Master and disciple were both puffing smoke. Suddenly Zheng Dafeng said, "That's not good."

Old Man Yang sneered. "Oh?"

Zheng Dafeng raised his head, gathering courage. "He is Chen Ping'an!"

Old Man Yang tapped his pipe on the step and said casually, "The real key to choosing Chen Ping'an was one sentence from Qi Jingchun that moved that existence to gamble on that 'One.' Do you really think it was Chen Ping'an's talent, nature, aptitude, and circumstances?"

Zheng Dafeng retorted, "Would Qi Jingchun have chosen Ma Kuxuan or the Long-Browed of the Xie family to persuade that existence? I don't think Qi Jingchun would even have had the nerve to open his mouth! So according to Chen Ping'an's theory, to understand how a result comes about, one must backtrack step by step. Qi Jingchun's sentence was certainly crucial, but can Chen Ping'an's talent, nature, aptitude, and circumstances be ignored? After I went out, I increasingly realized that the outside world believes even more than the townsfolk that suffering in the world, if someone is rewarded for it, is no longer suffering. The long tribulations in that suffering, the ups and downs of people's hearts—in their eyes, none of it compares to a realm, a magic treasure, a flying sword, or a bit of fortune."

Old Man Yang smiled, his eyes cold. "These fools—are they even worth you and me mentioning? A bunch of ants fighting over crumbs of food. How can you converse with them? Get down on the ground and talk to them? It seems this trip abroad has made you regress."

Zheng Dafeng grinned playfully and quickly changed the subject. "Master, you've bet a lot on Chen Ping'an. Aren't you afraid of losing everything?"

Old Man Yang shook his head. "If my own judgment is poor and I lose money in business, I won't blame heaven or earth."

Zheng Dafeng sighed. He had done his utmost. If he nagged on about Chen Ping'an any more, it might backfire.

Old Man Yang glanced at the hunched man who seemed lost in thought and hit the nail on the head. "Cui Chan's actions and pursuits, the hidden knowledge within them, have given me some good things that greatly benefited me. Before, I racked my brains for over nine thousand years and couldn't break through the crux. I thought a lot, with little effect. Just two conversations with Cui Chan gave me more than all that. This extra gain, I must repay Cui Chan. So even if the little I bet on Chen Ping'an loses everything, it doesn't matter much."

Zheng Dafeng asked, "Master, I'm curious: among all the disciples you've taken, has any made you particularly happy or particularly sad? For example, Senior Brother Li Er is likely to reach the 'Spirit Arrival' within the Ten Realms. Are you somewhat satisfied with him?"

Old Man Yang shook his head. "No."

Zheng Dafeng pointed at himself, grinning. "What about me? Your disciple is so miserable. Isn't there even a little sadness?"

Old Man Yang only sneered.

Zheng Dafeng's eyes turned sorrowful. "Master, although I was prepared, now that I know the answer, your disciple is still a bit sad..."

Old Man Yang couldn't be bothered to banter with this disciple. Suddenly he said, "To live, and to live better, you have to wrestle with the world. Innocent children, hot-blooded youth, brute courage, chivalry of the rivers and lakes, scholar's spirit, general's loyalty, tyrant's gamble—these can go forward without looking back, with a clear conscience. But some people insist on wrestling with themselves. How do you untie the dead knot you've twisted yourself into? Nowadays, cultivators find it difficult to cultivate the heart. That was a restriction we set for them back then—the reason they are less than ants. But at the time, no one thought that this very 'chicken rib' would become what Cui Chan calls 'sparks of fire'... Never mind. Just this dragging of the heart is like a mountain climber wearing a soaking wet robe—it doesn't stop progress, but it grows heavier, a hundred-mile mountain road half done at ninety. Finally, how to wring it dry and continue climbing fresh and clean is a great learning. But no one imagined that this swarm of ants could actually climb to the summit. Perhaps some did imagine it, but for the sake of 'immortality,' they didn't care, mistakenly thinking that if ants reach the summit and see the jade towers in the sky, even if they grow wings, they still have a long way to go to truly ascend from the summit to the heavens. Then it wouldn't be too late to stamp them out. Originally they planned to fatten them up in autumn and then hunt, feasting. Indeed, countless years passed, still stable. The golden bodies of countless gods decayed more slowly, the heavens and earth expanded in all directions. But what happened in the end? You've already seen."

When Old Man Yang said this, there was not much anger or sorrow. He was as calm as an outsider speaking the greatest secret between heaven and earth.

Zheng Dafeng cautiously asked, "Why didn't the Three Teachings sages uproot you completely?"

Old Man Yang laughed. "Now you're asking such big questions. Is that meaningful? Shouldn't you be thinking about how not to be a bachelor?"

Zheng Dafeng said sheepishly, "Master, I didn't know you could tell jokes."

Old Man Yang showed a rare look of helplessness, his wrinkled face even more creased. "It's because Li Er's wife—that pest hated by gods and ghosts—keeps nagging me."

Zheng Dafeng asked softly, "Sister-in-law is also...?"

Old Man Yang snorted. "If she were, would I not have made her suffer worse than a beast for lifetimes? It's only because she's just an annoying market shrew that I don't bother."

Zheng Dafeng breathed a sigh of relief.

Old Man Yang said, "Gu Can to Chen Ping'an is like Chen Ping'an to Qi Jingchun. That is precisely the dead knot in this stalemate."

Zheng Dafeng frowned. "Gu Can and Chen Ping'an are too different in nature, aren't they?"

He shook his head. "No, no."

Old Man Yang laughed. "If you put aside good and evil and look again, is it really different?"

Zheng Dafeng fell into deep thought.

Gradually, his eyes grew resolute.

Old Man Yang shook his head. "Don't meddle. Even if you were a tenth-realm martial artist, it would be useless. This game is not about killing or life and death. The Literary Sage can't help Chen Ping'an even if he wants to. It's not about how great one's knowledge or cultivation is. Because the Literary Sage's accompanying shrine seat has been shattered, but his own foundation of learning still stands. Of course, the Literary Sage can use a vast learning to forcibly cover Chen Ping'an's current understanding and subdue the evil dragon in his heart's well for the moment, but in the long run, the loss outweighs the gain. It would easily lead him astray and kill Chen Ping'an."

Old Man Yang glanced at the sky. "That Sect Leader Lu who came as a guest could help Chen Ping'an take another path, but Chen Ping'an himself won't agree. And Chen Ping'an guessed correctly: what that Sect Leader Lu truly desires is the Chen Ping'an chosen by Qi Jingchun, not Chen Ping'an himself. So if his mind wavers and he gets lured to White Jade Capital, at best he becomes a puppet—not impossible to reach the eleventh or twelfth realm. At worst, he might never escape Sect Leader Lu's palm for lifetimes, used to observe the Dao."

Zheng Dafeng grunted. "It's like a man: the woman he can't have, the more uncomfortable he feels, the prettier she looks. Once he gets her, it's just the same."

Old Man Yang said out of nowhere, "Nowadays, there are many brothels in the town."

Zheng Dafeng's face turned red. "Master, I'm just loose-lipped. I'm not that kind of person!"

Old Man Yang asked a seemingly unrelated question. "On the plaque of the Crab Workshop that reads 'Three Teachings as One' in the town, what do the four inscriptions say?"

Zheng Dafeng replied, "Confucian: 'Do Not Yield to Your Betters.' Daoist: 'Rare Words Are Natural.' Buddhist: 'Seek Nothing Outside.' Military: 'Spirit Charging the Dipper and Ox.'"

Old Man Yang smiled. "Think carefully."

Zheng Dafeng pondered a moment. "'Do Not Yield to Your Betters' is one of the key dead knots in Chen Ping'an's predicament..."

Old Man Yang smiled. "The Daoist solitary pursuit of the Great Way, harmonizing the Dao with heaven and earth—isn't that beautiful? That's why I said Sect Leader Lu's Dao can save Chen Ping'an for a time, for a lifetime. They don't even care about the human world, so why would they care about the life and death of a brat from Mud Vase Lane? The Literary Sage scolded Sect Leader Lu for being blind to man but aware of heaven. In my view, that's not the case. In the early days, when Sect Leader Lu sought the Dao on the land of Bright World, perhaps it was so. But when he set sail on the seas, he had already begun to change, truly attaining the essence and forgetting the form, perfectly aligning with the Grand Dao of Dao Ancestor, which is why he became Dao Ancestor's favorite disciple. As for the Buddhist doctrine derived from that phrase 'Seek Nothing Outside,' on the surface it seems a possible way for Chen Ping'an to break the game, but it's not so. Cui Chan has surely thought of it and already has a countermeasure. As for 'Spirit Charging the Dipper and Ox'..."

Zheng Dafeng lowered his voice. "Then her?"

Old Man Yang said expressionlessly, "Her? She doesn't care at all. She might even wish Chen Ping'an were more straightforward. As long as Chen Ping'an doesn't die—even if he goes to an extreme—she'd be happy to see it."

Zheng Dafeng scratched his head. "So, after all this talk, Chen Ping'an is definitely doomed?"

Old Man Yang laughed. "Then a wealthy man guarding his mountain estate, with you guarding his gate, freeloading—isn't that good?"

Zheng Dafeng jerked his head up, staring fixedly at the old man. "Master, you deliberately want the evil dragon in Chen Ping'an's heart to raise its head, to temper his sword heart, to make him stop talking about those confining moral principles of benevolence and righteousness, to make him feel that heaven and earth are vast and only a sword in hand is the truth—all to help that existence discard Chen Ping'an, this scabbard, earlier, am I right?!"

Old Man Yang smiled slightly. "To be able to think this far shows you've made some progress."

Zheng Dafeng's voice trembled. "Did she demand this?"

Old Man Yang shook his head, showing a look of emotion and nostalgia, murmuring, "Where would she care about these things? She doesn't care. She... is who she is."

Zheng Dafeng's expression was sorrowful. "Pitiful. Truly pitiful."

He thought of that young man sitting opposite him on the eave bench in the Dust Medicine Shop, cracking melon seeds and smiling at the crowd in the courtyard. He always felt that after suffering such a great, undeserved calamity, that young man deserved a few days of comfort and ease. Who would have thought that from the moment he left Old Dragon City, a scheme more terrifying than Flight-Rising Du Mao and the Sword-Swallowing Ship of his destiny item was waiting for him, Chen Ping'an.

Autumn had arrived.

Time for the autumn hunt.

Old Man Yang said calmly, "Nowadays, with the arrival of the great chaotic age, the principles of Bright World—those that people will eventually stop wanting to talk about, those fools who think knowing principles is useless, those villains who borrow principles to satisfy their own selfish desires—will all surface together with the fundamental principles. If you don't eat, you die; if you don't drink, you die even faster. At that time, people will know how precious it is that someone is willing to talk about principles. Fortunately, people have short memories. Pain is quickly forgotten. The world repeats itself like this—ten thousand years have passed, and it's still not much better."

Zheng Dafeng's voice trembled. "Better? How could it be better?"

Old Man Yang laughed. "Am I human?"

Zheng Dafeng had nothing to say.

Old Man Yang asked again, "Are you human?"

Zheng Dafeng remained silent.

Finally, Zheng Dafeng left the shop, walked to Mud Vase Lane, passed Chen Ping'an's ancestral home, and also passed Gu Can's ancestral home.

Old Man Yang sat alone in the courtyard, puffing smoke.

Ten thousand years ago, in the heavens, clusters of divine radiance were vast and magnificent, stars brilliant. The insignificant human nature from the human world—just little sparks—how did it win?

Cui Chan gave the answer.

Old Man Yang was unwilling to admit it, but he had to.

And the one who could give that answer was probably already somewhere in Letter Creek Lake by now.

——

In Pondwater City, on the top floor of a high-rise with a broad view, the door opened. Inside sat a white-robed youth with a mole between his eyebrows and an old man in Confucian robes, both gazing at the magnificent scene of Letter Creek Lake outside.

Cui Dongshan, Cui Chan.

Now two people, once one person: the Great Li national master Embroidery Tiger, formerly the Literary Sage's chief disciple.

Cui Dongshan's expression was solemn. He controlled his flying sword Gold Spike to draw a small Thunder Pond around himself, as a reminder that no matter what happened, he could not step out of this circle.

Cui Chan glanced at Cui Dongshan and smiled. "Truly the teacher and student—both like to draw boundaries to confine themselves."

Cui Dongshan gritted his teeth. "If I lose, I'll admit it. But if you lose, don't bully me and go back on your word!"

If it weren't for this old turtle forcibly setting up this game and leaving him no room to refuse, why would he, Cui Dongshan, be willing to step onto the gambling table again? He now detested the term "senior brother" more than anything, and would rather die than bet on those high-odds games again. But the old turtle wouldn't take no for an answer. What could Cui Dongshan do? Conversely, if Cui Dongshan were in Cui Chan's position, he felt he would do the same. How could one not understand oneself?

This bet, between him and Cui Chan, was simple: to determine who was primary and who was secondary. That was all. It didn't involve life and death. That was also why Cui Dongshan was unwilling to throw everything away—and precisely what he hated most about himself: "a single person" knows his own bottom line better than any outsider.

If Cui Chan lost, from now on, Cui Chan would be allowed to rule in Great Sui like a feudal king, and not just he, but the entire Great Li Song Dynasty would bet on Chen Ping'an. Chen Ping'an was worth that price. Last time they met, Cui Chan laughed and said, "Even I think this is a dead-end game. If Chen Ping'an can break it, he naturally deserves my 'respect.' Such an existence, if you can't just kill it, then go to the other extreme: do everything to win it over. What's shameful about that?"

If Cui Dongshan lost, he would have to leave Cliff School, come out of seclusion, and help Cui Chan plan the conquest of Vermillion Flame Dynasty, and after bypassing Lakeview Academy, deploy the Great Li iron cavalry, or suppress all sides south of Great Li and north of Lakeview Academy, quickly digest half of Bottle Gourd Continent's various states' foundations into Great Li's true national power. Cui Dongshan would also have to obediently walk back onto the path of practical achievement and become Cui Chan's first disciple in his doctrine of practical achievement.

Why had the Green Luan Nation's immortal ferry dawdled so? Why were there no ferries directly to Letter Creek Lake at Old Dragon City, Green Luan Nation, or Yellow Court Nation? Why did Chen Ping'an refine his second destiny item at Great Sui Academy? Why had Dragonspring Commandery suddenly started a new round of mountain trading? It was all to have everything prepared for Letter Creek Lake, not even lacking the east wind.

But in this process, everything had to conform to the continent's overall trend, be reasonable. Cui Chan wasn't forcibly laying out the game; under Cui Dongshan's personal supervision, Cui Chan placed his pieces step by step, and each step had to be a reasonable move.

Great Li had long secretly infiltrated Letter Creek Lake. Now they were quietly closing the net.

As a vital region adjacent to Vermillion Flame Dynasty, Letter Creek Lake had long been a target in the Great Li national master's eyes.

River-Cutting True Lord Liu Zhimao wanted to unify Letter Creek Lake. After unifying the lakes, who would he hand it to? Naturally, he would sell it to an imperial family, at a sky-high price. But this imperial family was a bit far from Letter Creek Lake. The imperial family would then resell it—to whom? To the Jade Gui Sect of Parasol Leaf Continent. The Jade Gui Sect planned to choose a feng shui treasure site in Bottle Gourd Continent as the founding place for a subordinate sect. There were already three candidate sites: one was Dragonspring Commandery, split in two—Ruan Qiong and Jade Gui Sect each taking half. Another was near Cloud Forest Jiang Clan and Green Luan Nation. The last was Letter Creek Lake itself.

Liu Zhimao was by nature a hegemon. These years, his sharp strikes and alliances, balancing favor and fear, had already shown the posture of a regional overlord who could swallow Letter Creek Lake alone. With the help of Great Li cultivators, his final killing blow might succeed in one decisive blow.

It was supposed to include Ruan Xiu, who stood opposite Gu Can. It was supposed to wait until the newest River-Lake Sovereign was elected, after a series of chain killings with orioles behind. That didn't matter. Originally, Ruan Xiu was never inside the board. Whether she was there or not made no difference—at most, it would be icing on the cake.

Originally, Chen Ping'an was supposed to arrive at Dragonspring Commandery, happily buy one or two mountains, practice boxing in the bamboo tower on Fallen Mountain, chat happily with the two kids. Then he would suddenly hear bad news from Letter Creek Lake: a great melee had begun, young Gu Can was deeply involved and had exerted considerable influence. After that, Chen Ping'an would frantically board an "incidentally passing" immortal ferry at Oxhorn Mountain, using Wei Bo's personal connections, spending a fortune in spirit coins to risk crossing the airspace of Bottle Gourd Continent to reach Letter Creek Lake. By then, the situation would be even more complicated and tangled than now, because more people would be dead. Maybe Ruan Xiu would be added to that count.

Cui Chan smiled. "Still no matter. The overall situation is settled. I'll just be generous and not beat you, Cui Dongshan, to death with one blow. That way, the process of you changing your path won't be too long, delaying the overall trend of Bottle Gourd Continent."

Cui Chan shifted his gaze to a path by the lakeside, a smile on his face, and said slowly, "You, Chen Ping'an, stand upright yourself, willing to follow reason in everything, everywhere. Do you want to be a Buddhist who only saves himself? Then go ahead! The truths you believe in are not about distance. So when the person you care about most, the one closest to you, commits a great offense—a monstrous crime—yet that person seems to have some reasons of their own, what do you do, Chen Ping'an? Does the truth you've always insisted on still work? I'm curious. I'm looking forward to it. Or will you go find some messy literary notes or so-called warning aphorisms to pick a truth you want?"

Cui Chan squinted. "Let's wait and see."

Cui Dongshan sneered. "A fine 'a gentleman can be deceived by righteousness.'"

Cui Chan muttered to himself, "Back then, in the town's test, for Chen Ping'an, there were mostly external temptations—not pure enough. That's why we lost so badly. In the final analysis, I underestimated a lane boy. Since he was chosen by Qi Jingchun, we should have been more cautious. So this test only asks the original heart."

Cui Dongshan was not kept in the dark by Cui Chan, the old turtle's sinister scheming behind his back. In fact, every step, Cui Chan clearly explained to Cui Dongshan. The more this happened, the more Cui Dongshan felt he was waiting to be bound hand and foot. So when Chen Ping'an and the four from the scroll reached Green Luan Nation, Cui Dongshan could no longer sit still. He couldn't watch himself become the old turtle's appendage. So he very abruptly appeared in that quiet, peaceful little village. After that, until Chen Ping'an reached Cliff School, Cui Dongshan had made two small cheats. Once, "naturally and smoothly" using the Buddhist-Daoist debate in Green Luan Nation, he mentioned Legalist learning. When they parted, he secretly gave Pei Qian a brocade pouch, inside which was a note with a sentence written on it.

The second time was when they met again at Cliff School, he advised Chen Ping'an to read more of the 'orthodox scriptures' of the Three Teachings and Hundred Schools. The real intention was to surreptitiously recommend those Buddhist scriptures to Chen Ping'an. To break this game was already a luxury. Even at a retreat ten thousand steps back, let Master Chen Ping'an at least preserve his own Dao heart. Cui Dongshan knew he was struggling desperately, offering two possibilities: one was Legalism—right and wrong, all decided by law, without distinction of closeness. The other was Buddhism—the theory of causality: all beings suffer; the causes of yesterday, the fruits of today; the causes of previous lives, the fruits of this life. The innocent people's current calamity is the karmic burden from past lives—"reasonably" so.

Actually, Cui Dongshan's cheating had a more concealed instance, right in that courtyard at Cliff School—the most ingenious one.

Now, Cui Chan looked at the multi-story ship slowly approaching the shore dock, smiled, and said, "You cheated twice. I can pretend not to see it. I'm overwhelming you with the general trend; you'll inevitably be unconvinced. So what if I let you have two moves?"

Cui Dongshan said with a grin, "You old turtle, you talk like a big spender. I like it! How about letting me have one more? Three times is enough, right?"

Cui Chan looked at the ship. "Haven't I already let you? But if I said it, you little brat might lose face."

Cui Dongshan's expression turned ugly.

Cui Chan muttered to himself, "In that courtyard on East Flowery Mountain, you deliberately tempted those two naughty, lively children to scribble on your immortal scroll. Then you deliberately used a skeleton summer-cooling picture to scare Pei Qian, intentionally overdoing it, which then made Chen Ping'an scold you. Chen Ping'an's reaction must have made you very gratified, right? Because after traveling so far, he didn't rigidly adhere to the dead principles in books anymore. He learned that a gentleman must bend and stretch—neither can be lacking. And he learned the meaning of 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do.' That made you, Cui Dongshan, laugh and not care at all about those scrolls—in your eyes, they were worthless. Moreover, Chen Ping'an regarded you as one of his own. So although Chen Ping'an seemed unreasonable—obviously Pei Qian and Li Huai were at fault first—why didn't he reason with you about the fundamental order? Because this is 'when in Rome.' All worldly principles must conform to those 'blameless' human relationships. Your intention was simply that after Chen Ping'an learned of Gu Can's deeds, he would think carefully: why did Gu Can, in Letter Creek Lake, become a little demon who kills without cause? Maybe there were some reasons? Maybe it was the way of the world, and Gu Can wasn't so wrong?"

Cui Dongshan's expression turned grave.

Cui Chan laughed. "But is that really useful? Do you really think this move of yours was clever? Wrong. This move of yours was a brilliant stroke for the Mud Vase Lane boy back then, but for Chen Ping'an, who now has principles as ballast, it only adds fuel to the fire—it will make him think deeper and end up more at a loss. Cui Dongshan, have you still not seen the truly interesting part of my game?"

Cui Chan's expression was calm; he never turned his head to look at Cui Dongshan, nor did he put on an aggressive posture. "Where is the interest? Right in the 'firing.' The complexity of principles lies precisely in that you can talk about 'when in Rome'—it can be said or not; principles can be discussed or not. Between law and reason, the law of a place, one's own principles—all can be confused. Letter Creek Lake is a lawless place. Secular law is useless, sages' principles are even more useless. Even the rules set between many Letter Creek Lake islands are useless. Here, big fish eat small fish, small fish eat shrimp; people eat people; people don't treat people as people. Everything depends on fists. Almost everyone is killing and being killed, swept up in it, no one can be an exception. All these can be legitimate reasons for Chen Ping'an to 'step back to find peace of mind.' These are all the leeway I deliberately gave Chen Ping'an. I gave him countless choices and possibilities—the main road, the branch road—all laid at his feet. No one is stopping him. This way, I can make him truly feel that there really is no self-evident principle under heaven. I want him, Chen Ping'an, to have to negate himself for a Gu Can, to accept the world's bastard theory that there are only positions, no right or wrong."

Cui Chan smiled. "A good man who speaks reason, encountering a world that believes more in fists but only pays lip service to reason—then this good man, bleeding, binds his own hands, draws his own boundaries. Let's see how you, Chen Ping'an, talk about disappointment and hope in the end."

Cui Dongshan smiled bitterly. "Wonderful beyond words. Truly wonderful."

Then Cui Chan spoke slowly, each word like a knife stabbing into Cui Dongshan's heart.

"Gu Can's mother: that bowl of favor back then—Chen Ping'an considers it a life-saving grace."

"Your feelings for Gu Can: no less than your feelings for Liu Xianyang. You regard Gu Can as your own younger brother."

"Even that mudskipper: you personally gave it to Gu Can back then."

"You, Cui Dongshan, secretly use Buddhist tenets to save Chen Ping'an. Can you really? Doesn't Chen Ping'an believe in 'Seek Nothing Outside'? The karma of those unjustly dead can be explained. But once you escape into Zen, seeking a Buddhist peaceful place outside Confucian principles, the problem arises again: this earliest karma related to you—can you not see it? If you say Chen Ping'an pretends not to see it, it doesn't matter—Chen Ping'an has already lost that childlike heart that Qi Jingchun valued most. You and I, the outcome is decided. If Chen Ping'an truly doesn't see it, it doesn't matter—I will find someone to remind him."

Cui Chan concluded, his tone ordinary, not too joyful. "This time, no one can save him. Chen Ping'an himself, even less."

Cui Dongshan sat silently, not saying a word.

Cui Chan finally turned his head and smiled. "A young man should have vitality. Why are you more listless than me?"

Cui Dongshan closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face, whispering softly, "May my teacher's state of mind be spring all year round, spring all year round..."

The multi-story ship by the lakeside had docked. The middle-aged man surnamed Chen, under the willow tree with yellowing leaves, finally did not drink. After returning the gourd to his waist, he hesitated, unable to move forward.

He was seventeen years old this year.

Cui Chan stood up, extended a palm, and smiled. "Please enter the trap!"