Chapter 437: Dawn Breaks
Inside a tall building in Chishui City.
Cui Chan, serving as the Grand Oracle of Great Li, had already set aside three flying sword messages tonight, ignoring them all.
Cui Dongshan paced slowly along the circular edge of the golden lightning pool, hands clasped behind his back, and asked, “What significance does the content written by Zhong Kui hold? And what exactly did Ruan Xiu see?”
Cui Chan dismissed Cui Dongshan with two rhetorical questions. “Do you take me for the Dao Ancestor? Every final truth deduced requires a vast accumulation of information. Haven’t you even mastered that basic principle?”
Cui Dongshan retorted even more sharply, “I was bored and looking for something to talk about. Did you actually take me seriously?”
Cui Chan received another extremely concealed flying sword message, identical in nature to all the previous ones. It did not streak in from the airspace above the Shujian Lake jurisdiction, but instead first manifested a spring eye inside this tall building, from which clear water flowed. Then a flying sword broke through the air and arrived, after which the spring eye dissipated.
This was naturally one of the highest secrets of the Great Li military, consuming a great deal of effort from the Great Li Mohist cultivators, not to mention a staggering amount of immortal money.
Cui Chan still did not open the flying sword. He said slowly, “Rooted in humanity—let us set aside ghosts, monsters, and spirits for now. This is the height that a Confucian sage governing an entire continent must attain. Then one must think of the world and consider matters beyond ‘humanity.’ This elevates one beyond the knowledge of a junzi, who only needs to benefit one country before planning for a continent. Hence, the junzi establishes his foundation in humanity.”
Cui Chan continued, “Chen Ping’an’s idea of taking scope within that circle—setting aside the knowledge itself and only speaking of size—is similar in a different way to the concept proposed by the Grand Chief of the Green Luan Kingdom, Wei Liang, who argued that worldly laws must be rooted in humanity. This implies that speaking of human laws to all mountain spirits and ghosts is inapplicable.”
Cui Dongshan asked, “Is that why you regard Wei Liang, a Legalist disciple, as half a kindred spirit?”
Cui Chan nodded. “Before we reach the end of the road, we are still on the same path, and it can complement the doctrine of practical achievements.”
Cui Chan turned his head and smiled. “By the way, why didn’t you ask me earlier to help conceal the aura of the ferry crossing? Weren’t you afraid of attracting unnecessary attention?”
Cui Dongshan continued walking in circles around the golden lightning pool, replying casually, “No need. In the end, these are things we can both figure out, let alone the Old Scholar—who once participated in the Three Teachings Debate and reached that height. Chen Ping’an’s learning won’t scare anyone to death. What really scares people to death are the Old Scholar’s words that directly shattered the Buddha Son’s golden body on the Lingtai and the Dao Sect’s true spirit’s immaculate mind.”
Cui Chan seemed to agree with this assessment. “Chen Ping’an is considered to be halfway up the mountain, holding a lantern in his hand, the flame flickering faintly, illuminating the narrow path under his feet. It is of little benefit to you and me. The pity is that only two people—Zhong Kui and Ruan Xiu—have witnessed it.”
Cui Dongshan stopped walking, glanced at the landscape scroll spread on the ground in front of Cui Chan, and sneered. “As for the rest? They find it an eyesore even if they see it. If they understand nothing at all, that’s fine. But if they half-understand, it only makes them more uneasy, like the one furthest to the left inside the upper semicircle. That’s how the world’s heart works, and Chen Ping’an can see through it all. Gu Can? That gatekeeper cultivator on Green Gorge Island? What do you think happens if they see it? They’ll only become more agitated. That’s why it’s at least half correct to say that life’s joys and sorrows are fated. Those who are destined to roll in the mud as ants will stay that way for life. Those who can see a glimmer of light and climb out of the cesspool will naturally climb out, shake off the filth, and transform from a mud-splattered outsider into a graceful gentleman in spirit—like that Lu Baixiang.”
Cui Chan’s expression was calm and leisurely.
These two old foxes and young foxes—the “same person, split souls”—engaged in this utterly composed small talk from beginning to end. Their underlying meaning seemed to be tacitly agreed upon: they were both deliberately and inadvertently downplaying the height and significance of Chen Ping’an’s ferry circlet and his doctrine.
Then silence fell between them.
Cui Chan began to open the four flying sword messages one by one.
Since supporting a single flying sword to “travel through the cracks of the River of Time” required an enormous amount of immortal money, the content of each message was usually brief, with wording kept concise and to the point.
This was also one of the results of Cui Chan’s governance, after becoming the Grand Oracle of Great Li, in streamlining the bureaucracy.
He tried to ensure that among the civil and military officials of Great Li, they all spoke a language that everyone could “understand.”
Cui Chan appeared to be handling busy government affairs.
Cui Dongshan, following a spiritual intuition, silently recited a single sentence over and over in his heart. It was a phrase once spoken by the Old Scholar during a private debate with a far-traveling Buddha Son of Haoran World: a “big talk.”
“My heart is bright; what more is there to say?”
After handling all military and political affairs methodically, Cui Chan replied to each one.
Then Cui Chan sat in silence, using inner vision to immerse himself in his mind. The “Cui Chan” nascent soul, sitting cross-legged in his natal acupoint, took the straight line from the ferry circlet and twisted its trajectory, transforming it into the yin-yang fish pattern that the Dao Ancestor once drew in the human world.
Then he waved his sleeve, gently pushing this circle aside, and once again observed the original circle. He looked at the six major pieces of territory. Six pieces. Chen Ping’an had once mentioned that instead of looking from high to low, one should walk around the circle. That way, there were only left and right. Moving mountains and overturning seas, relocating people’s hearts—this was called the unceasing cycle of reincarnation!
Cui Chan’s mental nascent soul grew colder and colder as he looked.
Suddenly, Cui Chan drew his mind back, opened his eyes, and with two fingers inside one sleeve, rapidly formed a hand seal, starting with the character “Yao.”
At some point later.
“Cui Dongshan!”
“Cui Chan!”
The old and the young shouted each other’s names almost simultaneously.
Cui Dongshan quickly brought out the Scroll of Time’s Passing that he had once shown to Pei Qian, spreading it on the ground.
Cui Chan swiftly moved to the edge of Cui Dongshan’s golden lightning pool and said in a deep voice, “Extract only the images of the Yao Clan head from the Dragon Kiln! All of them!”
Cui Dongshan fumed with rage, “That Old Man Yang is even more of an old bastard than you! He must have deliberately concealed every trace of Yao’s head, hoodwinking the heavens. Our previous deductions, which we hadn’t even put much mind to, were completely led by the nose into a ditch by Old Man Yang! Damn it all, this is definitely a deal between Old Man Yang and Yao’s head! Cui Chan, you and I must not end up working for nothing! I, Cui Chan, can be forced to death by the Confucian lineage, crushed by the world’s great tide, but absolutely, absolutely, I will not die stupid!”
In his urgency, Cui Dongshan didn’t even bother about the slip of calling himself “Cui Chan.”
The more he thought about it, the more frenzied he became, and he burst into a tirade: “Is Qi Jingchun blind?! Isn’t his chess skill so high that the White Emperor City Lord regards him as an opponent? For the first fifty-nine years of Lizhu Cave Heaven, I won’t mention it—Qi Jingchun only had disappointment. But after he decided to entrust the most important part of that disappointment to Chen Ping’an, why didn’t he manage this?! Let whatever happen, turn a blind eye?! I tell you, that Buddhist side, as the one collecting three thousand years of rent from Lizhu Cave Heaven, would not be so simple! Maybe even that ascetic monk was just a smokescreen!”
Compared to Cui Dongshan’s hysteria, Cui Chan was much more composed. “What were the true names of those two flying swords on Chen Ping’an, before he named them ‘Chuyi’ and ‘Shiwu’?”
Cui Dongshan frowned. “I only know that the one Chen Ping’an named Chuyi was given to him by the Old Scholar after that landscape scroll of his cracked, and the Old Scholar stepped out of it. The second flying sword, Shiwu, was given to Chen Ping’an by Old Man Yang—that ten-thousand-year-old old bastard who’s lived about as long as that stinky Daoist from the East Sea—in exchange for some worthless junk. Yang said it was called Shiwu, clearly a random bullshit name he made up to go along with Chen Ping’an’s renaming of Chuyi.”
Cui Chan lowered his head, staring at the fragments of images extracted from the Scroll of Time’s Passing using a unique secret method.
Cui Dongshan pointed out the window and shouted, “Qi Jingchun is blind, and the Old Scholar has gone mad too?”
Cui Chan said calmly, “Who was it that painstakingly arranged for Chen Ping’an to study Buddhist scriptures?”
Cui Dongshan spat forcefully toward the edge of the golden lightning pool, aiming at Cui Chan’s head. “Fuck your mother! If it weren’t for you setting up this trap to harm our teacher and disciple, would I have made Chen Ping’an read all those scriptures from the Three Teachings and Hundred Schools?”
Without raising his head, Cui Chan flicked his sleeve, sending the glob of spit back onto Cui Dongshan’s face.
Cui Dongshan wiped his face casually, still indignant, continuing to curse heaven and earth.
After watching the second round of all the images concerning the “Old Yao” that Chen Ping’an had mentioned, Cui Chan said softly, “Don’t forget the locust leaf with the character ‘Yao’ that Qi Jingchun helped to obtain. Among so many locust leaves of ancestral shade, only this one fell. Let’s take this segment of the River of Time and look at it.”
Cui Dongshan complied.
On major matters, Cui Dongshan never played petty games or acted coy.
On the scroll, after Qi Jingchun had obtained the only locust leaf willing to leave the branch for Chen Ping’an, he quietly turned his head, looked up at the highest point of the locust tree, and smiled with some mockery.
Qi Jingchun only looked once.
But by chance, many years later, when the two of them “overlooked” the scroll, it seemed as if the three participants faced each other across the River of Time.
Coincidence?
Deliberate?
A chill ran through Cui Dongshan’s heart. Cui Chan’s face darkened.
Cui Dongshan murmured, “Was Qi Jingchun laughing at those locust-shade lineage ancestors for not having good eyesight, or mocking us for not being able to guess what he was doing? Or both?”
Cui Chan remained silent.
In his mind, he slowly reasoned and calculated the matter.
Cui Dongshan plopped down on the ground, wailing, “What have we done? You old bastard, you’re higher in cultivation and older—you’ve eaten more scale weights! Why don’t you tell me? My heart is stifled now, just like my master’s dried-up mind, almost unable to write a word at the ferry. I’m exhausted too, can’t scold you anymore.”
Cui Chan pretended to be deaf and dumb.
Cui Dongshan scratched his head with both hands. “This life is bitter. My master is anxious, and his student is anxious too. We share no blessings but share the hardships. Can’t go on, just can’t go on.”
Cui Chan suddenly laughed. “You’re even more afraid of Qi Jingchun than I am. So I know that at the beginning of breaking the situation, you wanted Qi Jingchun to be completely dead more than I did. But now, have you changed your mind? Do you hope his restless spirit will return again?”
Cui Dongshan was silent and dejected.
Cui Chan pointed at the Scroll of Time’s Passing. “Put it away. Overthinking is useless. Guessing Qi Jingchun’s intentions now is meaningless.”
Cui Dongshan shuffled his butt, moving bit by bit to the scroll, and slapped his hand onto Qi Jingchun’s face in the picture. Still unsatisfied, he slapped twice more. “Is there a junior brother in the world who schemes against his senior brother like this? Huh? Come on, if you have the guts, come out and talk. Watch me reason with you properly…”
Cui Chan said, “Aren’t you embarrassed?”
Cui Dongshan huffily put the scroll away.
Cui Chan changed the subject. “Since you mentioned ‘reasoning,’ do you still remember that time after the Old Scholar won the debate against the Buddhist and Daoist sects, he wasn’t actually very happy when he returned to the study? Instead, he rarely drank wine and said to us with emotion, ‘Thinking back to those days—the common people, nameless in history books, when they met the Foremost Sage on the road, they dared to argue their own reasoning with the Ritual Sage. They weren’t afraid. If they understood something, they laughed heartily; if they thought it wrong, they argued loudly.’ I remember it clearly—the Old Scholar’s expression when he said this was more spirited and yearning than when he debated with the Buddhists and Daoists. Why?”
Cui Dongshan said angrily, “The Old Scholar’s heart is higher than the sky!”
Cui Chan asked a string of questions in one breath, “Why is it that now, reading and writing are much easier than in ancient times, yet the world is more and more awestruck by the sages and their wisdom? A Confucian disciple actually thinks his own learning cannot surpass the sages, that people today are inferior to ancients. Why is it that as the world’s knowledge accumulates, future generations’ minds become lower and lower?”
Cui Dongshan sighed. “Probably because as life gets better, we become more and more insensitive to the world, like those lofty gods of yore.”
Cui Chan squinted. “To us, as long as we survive the coming great calamity, isn’t that a good thing?”
Cui Dongshan’s face stiffened.
Cui Chan sneered. “Having regrets?”
Cui Dongshan trembled all over.
For this carefree, lawless white-robed youth, this was an earth-shattering event.
Cui Chan suddenly stood up. “You found a decent master. Other people—say, ninety-nine percent of the trash in this Shujian Lake—even if you threw them into the River of Time in the Lotus Blessed Land like that stinky Daoist did, even if you gave them three hundred years, even three thousand, they wouldn’t see anything special.”
Cui Dongshan asked doubtfully, “Why are you saying this? Every time you say something nice, it creeps me out.”
Cui Chan looked out the window at the moonlit lake. “There’s too much business in Great Li now. I can’t stay here every day to receive the most important sword messages—it will delay our real work. I’m different from you. If Chen Ping’an can’t get through this hurdle, you’ll be dragged down with him. I’ve long established my own unassailable position. So the distinction between you and me as primary and secondary is not without reason.”
Cui Dongshan didn’t seem surprised at Cui Chan’s departure and said nothing more.
His eyes shifted secretly.
Cui Chan, with his back to Cui Dongshan, said, “I advise you to show some backbone. Don’t think about pulling any dirty tricks while I’m away. If you do, I will be very disappointed in you.”
Cui Dongshan, sitting on the ground, lightly moved one sleeve as if “sweeping the floor.”
Cui Chan said, “Before I leave, if you have any questions, ask quickly.”
Cui Dongshan didn’t stand on ceremony and immediately asked, “Are you really going to let Liu Laocheng kill Gu Can? You’re not going to intervene?”
Cui Chan shook his head. “It has little to do with the deadlock anyway. I’m not Chen Ping’an. Why should I care about the life or death of some brat? If Liu Laocheng kills Gu Can, he’ll still have to do business with Great Li. We’d just swap Liu Zhimao for Liu Laocheng—even the surname is the same. Actually, that’s better. Liu Zhimao can’t command obedience himself. The wild cultivator style of Shujian Lake is no different from the hypocrisy of a decaying dynasty’s officialdom. Better to have Liu Laocheng. That man knows the bigger picture better. In the future, when he cooperates with Great Li, it will be much smoother. He won’t be like Liu Zhimao, who might get mired in the mud, get some benefits, but lack the strength to act, easily becoming a turtle hiding his head. And it might give Liu Zhimao a chance to raise the price. So even if Liu Laocheng, after becoming the Martial Lord of the Lake, demands a higher price and makes Great Li bleed more in the early stages, in the long run, Great Li can still earn it back.”
Cui Dongshan quickly asked again, “What if—just if—Qi Jingchun really does come back as a restless spirit? After you leave, if he comes, what then?”
Cui Chan replied, “I have naturally left a backup plan in the dark corners of Shujian Lake, like in Lizhu Cave Heaven, where the Dao Sect left a Pope Lu there. I’m not you. If I say something, I can do it. Stop guessing. If you cross the thunder pool and break the rules, I have other countermeasures against you.”
Cui Dongshan said nothing, this time sweeping with both sleeves.
Cui Chan remarked, “People’s worth or worthlessness is like that of rats—it depends on where they place themselves. A rat never knows that moving grain is stealing.”
He turned and smiled. “And what about us humans? When we seek enlightenment and immortality, if there is an unknowable existence higher up watching us, then what are we doing?”
Cui Dongshan muttered, “These are things we already figured out. Why ask me? Isn’t it because we had to understand them that we chose to do that thing? That’s why the most interesting one among the four in the Lotus Blessed Land scroll, Zhu Lian, could stand aloof and draw the correct conclusion: that you and I are like ‘one who sees the deep fish suffers misfortune.’”
Cui Chan smiled. “I’m just afraid you’ll become the next Gu Can—forgetful.”
Cui Dongshan rolled his eyes.
Cui Chan said softly, “Both with Qi Jingchun—in Lizhu Cave Heaven and here in Shujian Lake—they were struggles between gentlemen.”
Cui Dongshan’s expression was strange.
Cui Chan said, “Your doubt means that I, too, once doubted myself. But I tell you now, they were struggles between gentlemen.”
Cui Dongshan asked again, “Qi Jingchun could stand by and watch Zhao Yao defect to another Confucian lineage—that’s within Confucianism. He could leave three books for Song Jixin, elaborating on Legalist principles—the Confucian-Legalist conflict isn’t extreme. But what if Qi Jingchun pushed Chen Ping’an into the Buddhist sect, and Chen Ping’an never looked back? What does that mean? Even if Qi Jingchun meditated deeply on Buddhism while stationed in Lizhu Cave Heaven, I don’t believe he truly ‘took refuge in Zen.’ On that, I have no doubt. So to Qi Jingchun, what is Chen Ping’an? A junior disciple? A teacher and protector for Li Baoping, Zhao Yao, and Song Jixin? Or his true heir of incense and fire? Or maybe nothing at all?”
Cui Chan said cheerfully, “No idea.”
Cui Dongshan murmured, “I figured.”
Cui Chan said to Cui Dongshan as an elder advising a junior, “Little bastard, don’t say ‘I surrender’ to anyone again. That breath of a person’s spirit is easy to drop but hard to lift. In a chess game, if you admit defeat in your heart, just place the stones on the board. Who would ever say ‘I surrender’ out loud?”
Cui Dongshan was listless. “Stop bossing me around. We’re no longer the same person.”
Cui Chan didn’t take back the scroll on the ground—it was obviously left for Cui Dongshan. He smiled finally, “You should lament now: ‘My master, how many worries he has!’”
Cui Dongshan didn’t argue but agreed, “From afar, green hills are lovely; on the mountain, the road is hard. And on the road, there are mountain thieves.”
Cui Chan took one step, crossing as if through a doorway, and vanished in a flash.
After confirming that Cui Chan had truly left, Cui Dongshan raised both hands, rolled up his sleeves, and a chessboard and two jars of multicolored stones appeared before him.
He sat upright, with a solemn expression, full of ceremony.
Then he began to play Gomoku.
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Chen Ping’an had rushed from Great Li to Shujian Lake in a hurry, roughly around the Autumn Equinox.
After entering the jurisdiction of Shujian Lake, he took a carriage to Chishui City by the lakeshore. Along the way, the scenery he saw was crisp and clear—mountains bright, waters pure, frost falling by night, and from among many trees, deep reds emerged from pale yellows.
After that, he met Gu Can and saw the autumn-high, air-crisp martial world of Green Gorge Island. Then the dew grew thick and congealing. The Shujian Lake sky turned cold and the nights long; wind and smoke were desolate, mist shrouding everything. Chen Ping’an went to Yunlou City, using that father-daughter pair, then to a border pass in the Shihao Kingdom, saw a line there, and beheld another kind of landscape: frost-withered grass thickly chirping, south and north of the village no travelers.
After returning to Green Gorge Island, winter quietly descended. Water began to freeze, earth began to freeze, pheasants entered the great waters and turned into mirages.
During his travels to various islands, because he wanted to understand Shujian Lake’s history and customs in detail, Chen Ping’an actually set aside half a day to watch on Jinzhi Island, hoping to see the sight of “wild pheasants entering the lake to become mirages.” But such scenes were extremely rare and depended on luck, like when he had once encountered mountain carps and had to wait a long time for a chance to find that golden mountain carp. He couldn’t afford to waste too much time on luck, so he had to leave grudgingly, somewhat regretfully.
One couldn’t stifle oneself alive; one had to find joy in hardship and find ways to relieve sorrow and worry.
His wish to witness pheasants entering the water was like that. And his conversations at the Red Gatekeeper’s residence on Green Gorge Island with the gatekeeper girl Hongsu, hearing her stories, were also like that.
After arriving at Green Gorge Island, Chen Ping’an rarely drank. Occasionally he would take a sip or two to refresh himself.
The old year was nearing its end; cold wind wrapped around withered branches, and birds flew sharply.
Just as Chen Ping’an mistakenly thought that things would continue at this slow pace—with Gongliu Island still making noise, and he quiet, burying himself in his work, maybe one day he would lift his head and see willows turning pale yellow early and new waters showing green ripples—
Suddenly one day, Gongliu Island stopped its clamor. Gu Can, carrying the little mud eel, returned to the mountain gate and found Chen Ping’an, who was deeply studying a secret art passed down by Wei Bo. Gu Can said it was settled. Among the opposition, the leaders of the three islands with the loudest voices—Qingzhong, Tianmu, and Lishu—had previously clamored for Green Gorge Island to send three or five men each, and whoever won would recommend the next Martial Lord. But just as Green Gorge Island was about to agree, the old island lord of Qingzhong and a chief consecrator of Tianmu—the two strongest earthly immost potentially fighting in the arena—had vanished overnight without a trace.
The situation turned sharply. The island lord of Lishu propped up the whole affair alone. He went personally to Gongliu Island, had a secret talk with Liu Zhimao, and it seemed terms were agreed upon.
Thus Liu Zhimao ascended to the throne of Martial Lord as if without lifting a finger. Even his disciple Tian Hujun, along with the top cultivators of over a dozen vassal islands, had prepared for bloody battle. In the conflict that was destined to be cruel and bloody, anyone could die. But everyone understood that Liu Zhimao and Gu Can were exceptions. There was no use complaining; the trend was irresistible.
Probably the River-Piercing True Lord could laugh in his sleep.
Hearing this news, Chen Ping’an did not feel relieved.
Some things he could guess: Lishu Island was very likely a pawn of the Great Li Song clan, and the crippling of Qingzhong and Tianmu was Cui Chan’s secret move.
But some things he couldn’t guess: Did the Zhuying Dynasty have a backup plan? If so, who would it be? Would their lightning strike to overturn the situation target Liu Zhimao, or Gu Can and the little mud eel? Or would they simply retreat, knowing the difficulty? The Zhuying Dynasty, with flames of war rising on its borders, might be too hard-pressed to care anymore and simply abandon Shujian Lake as worthless.
Perhaps even Chen Ping’an’s presence on Green Gorge Island was part of the Embroidery Tiger’s calculations. Wasn’t that called “making the best use of everything”?
Chen Ping’an simply told Gu Can to avoid going out easily for the time being, and to beware of a desperate counterattack from the Zhuying Dynasty.
Gu Can smiled and nodded, saying he had already thought of that. Liu Zhimao had also warned him not to be complacent recently, and not to attend any banquets. Just wait a few months; after that, even if he went to the gateway of Qingzhong and Tianmu to urinate, no one would dare say a word. So Liu Zhimao was extremely cautious, deliberately postponing even the celebratory feast for his ascension to the next spring, for fear that when Green Gorge Island opened its mountain and river formation, the congratulants would be a mixed crowd, and if someone stabbed them then, Green Gorge Island would suffer heavy losses.
Chen Ping’an and Gu Can sat on small bamboo chairs, one left, one right, and chatted for a while.
In the deep winter, birds over the lake had almost vanished; a dot here and there occasionally.
Snow was likely to fall soon.
After Gu Can left, Chen Ping’an walked over to the ferry and fell into deep thought.
At dusk that day.
Chen Ping’an suddenly raised his head from his desk and hurried to the window.
Outside Green Gorge Island, an old cultivator hovered in the air, sneering, “My name is Liu Laocheng. I’m here to meet Gu Can. Everyone irrelevant, get lost. Otherwise, whoever collects your corpses will die too—until no one is left to collect them.”
Before his words even settled, the old man flicked his sleeve. One after another, golden-tinted yellow paper talismans streaked in arcs, eventually forming a great circle as if strangling the entire Green Gorge Island.
Beside the old cultivator materialized a giant dharma manifestation a hundred zhang tall, clad in a bizarre armor of black flames, wielding a giant axe in one hand and holding a square seal in the other—the “Molten Gold Flame Spirit Seal.” It was one of the most crucial natal objects of the Upper Five Realm cultivator Liu Laocheng. In the water-prosperous Shujian Lake, Liu Laocheng had once, relying solely on this fire-attributed natal object, slaughtered his way across numerous islands, leaving corpses floating on the lake.
Those barrier-breaking talismans of extremely high grade continuously shrank their encirclement, “embedding” into the mountain-water formation of Green Gorge Island. One by one, they burst with a bang, blasting large holes in the protective formation. If not for the formation core storing mountains of immortal money, and Tian Hujun and a few trusted consecrators desperately maintaining and repairing it, the formation might have shattered instantly. Even so, the entire island began to shake violently, and qi became chaotic.
This old cultivator, who had vanished from Shujian Lake for many years, did not waste a word.
The giant dharma manifestation beside Liu Laocheng swung its axe straight down, splitting the so-called impregnable protective formation of Green Gorge Island clean apart.
A black dot shot out from the Spring Court mansion, revealing its true form in midair: a colossal flood dragon over three hundred zhang long, slamming into the golden dharma manifestation of a Jade Wear realm cultivator.
The dragon instantly coiled around the dharma manifestation, and together they crashed into Shujian Lake, sending up monstrous waves.
The dharma manifestation did not fall backward; its feet rooted into the lake bed, sliding backward.
Because it was near Green Gorge Island, the water there was not very deep. The dharma manifestation, clad in fiery armor, stood on the lake bed, the water only reaching its waist.
A seal smashed heavily onto the dragon’s head.
It did not pull out.
The dharma manifestation, far larger than the dragon, struck the latter straight down into the lake, stepped on its head with one foot, and hacked with the axe.
Liu Laocheng sneered dismissively.
Having obtained such a large piece of glazed golden body shard, he hadn’t been idle lately. He had been stuck at the bottleneck of the Jade Wear realm for over two hundred years. Although he hadn’t yet reached the Immortal realm, he was close!
Besides, to deal with this Nascent Soul realm flood dragon, he had spent a fortune—a full ninety Guyu coins—on something that had no cost-effectiveness.
He had hired an Upper Five Realm great cultivator to inscribe a Daoist “True Word” on the axe: “If you fail to shoot the tiger, practice arrows anew; if you cannot cut the dragon, sharpen the blade again!”
As for the “sharpening the blade” phrase applied to an axe, it was ridiculous, but such trivial matters didn’t matter to mountain-and-swamp wild cultivators.
As long as it worked!
Flesh and blood were mangled.
The waters of Shujian Lake churned violently, boiling. The blood flowing from the dragon’s wounds reeked to the sky.
But the flood dragon, renowned for its tough physique, was not completely powerless. It struggled desperately, overturning the dharma manifestation in the water several times.
Liu Laocheng reached out toward a certain spot on Green Gorge Island.
The entire Spring Court mansion and the ground attached to the mountain roots cracked with countless fissures, as if the old cultivator was about to tear them out of the ground with his grab.
Liu Laocheng stared intently and sneered, “Still trying to hide? Found you.”
His other hand, palm up, lifted, then he flicked a finger. A youth in a dark green python robe was jerked into the air above the mansion and then, as if struck by a giant hammer, crashed into the mountain behind him.
Without looking back at the battle in the lake, Liu Laocheng shifted his gaze. “Liu Zhimao, what do you say? Your disciple is about to be beaten to death right under my fist, and you’re still so polite?”
Silence. No response.
Liu Laocheng curled his lips. “Since Green Gorge Island is so polite, I won’t hold back.”
He extended two fingers together and waved them forward lightly.
That seal, which the dharma manifestation had slapped into the dragon’s head, flew like a firefly, hurtling toward Gu Can, now deep in the mountain wall.
Liu Laocheng smiled. “Oh, at least there’s one real man among Green Gorge Island’s cultivators.”
In his field of view.
A youth in a golden dharma robe, treading two flying swords, hovered in the air before Gu Can. He reached out a hand, and a golden thread shot up from the Spring Court mansion.
He grasped empty air, and that sword immortal halted just in his hand, though he had not yet truly gripped it tightly.
Facing that seal that had terrified all the old cultivators of Shujian Lake—the Molten Gold Flame Spiritual Seal—
The youth gripped the sword immortal.
Above Green Gorge Island, winds surged and clouds churned.
Liu Laocheng frowned slightly. He shifted his plan. Instead of letting his natal seal charge straight at the young man’s half-immortal sword tip, he had the Flame Spirit Seal arc in a circle and stop a hundred zhang away from the youth.
As a mountain-and-swamp wild cultivator, he struck decisively and ruthlessly, but he also calculated gains and losses meticulously.
Soon Liu Laocheng relaxed his brow. If that famous Green Gorge Island accountant had fully refined that half-immortal weapon, it would be somewhat troublesome. But since he hadn’t completely refined it, it was no big deal.
---
Atop a vassal island of Green Gorge Island stood a refined, elderly man in green robes and a short, sturdy old man.
Both were outsiders.
The old patriarch of the Yugui Sect, Xun Yuan, and the old gang leader of the Invincible Divine Fist Gang, Gao Mian.
Gao Mian sensed a subtle unease in Xun Yuan and asked, “Xun Yuan, an acquaintance of yours?”
Xun Yuan smiled and nodded. “Quite familiar. After you, you’re one of the first people I got to know in your Bottle Continent. I met him at Old Dragon City—a very promising young man. Du Mao suffered a great loss at his hands. In that sense, Liu Laocheng should thank him, for getting that large chunk of glazed golden body shard.”
Gao Mian asked, “Should I remind Old Liu? It sounds to me like he’s repaying kindness with enmity.”
Xun Yuan smiled and shook his head. “No need. This doesn’t count as repaying kindness with enmity. Otherwise, aside from Liu Laocheng, our entire Yugui Sect—including me—would have to enshrine this young man as a living bodhisattva.”
Gao Mian grinned. “Really? If Old Liu gets into a killing frenzy, even I won’t be able to stop him. Unless you intervene and are willing to turn a surefire chief consecrator of the lower sect into an enemy.”
Xun Yuan said slowly, “That young man has a viewpoint roughly similar to yours and mine: when walking the martial world, one bears responsibility for life and death. Since that’s the case, why should I extend a hand and get entangled in so many worldly karmic ties? Is it fun?”
Gao Mian glared at Xun Yuan.
Damn, you’ve grown some balls, Xun—daring to talk to me like that?
Xun Yuan quickly cupped his hands in apology.
Gao Mian was satisfied. Looking at the standoff, the conclusion was certain. As soon as Liu Laocheng struck again, not only Gu Can but also that young man would die. And in this Shujian Lake, no one would even collect their corpses.
Gao Mian said with some regret, “Pity. Just because he’s the only junior on Green Gorge Island who dared to stand in Old Liu’s way, I think this guy isn’t bad.”
Xun Yuan said flatly, “We old men who have lived for so long—how few regrettable things have we seen with our own eyes? Among the cultivators who died by our hands, besides those who deserved death, were there any who died unjustly or had to die despite being innocent? There were, and quite a few. That’s what they mean by ‘every doctor’s door has wrongfully dead souls.’”
Gao Mian folded his arms and snorted.
Xun Yuan continued slowly, “To be blunt, choosing Shujian Lake as the site of the lower sect is our Yugui Sect’s top priority—a grand project for a thousand years. If that young man gets into a path dispute with Yugui Sect, I wouldn’t mind being a second Du Mao. Du Mao was stupid in that he relied solely on his cultivation, treated Bottle Continent as a tiny place, and acted with no justification at all. But if I act, I would at least have some justification, staying within the rules set by the Ritual Sage. Of course, in the end, life and death depend on one’s own ability. One must not act like a woman and complain about unfairness.”
Gao Mian nodded. “Saying this makes me think a bit more of you.”
Xun Yuan smiled slightly. “Liu Laocheng wants to kill someone to establish his authority. But the price he may have to pay is bigger than you imagine.”
Gao Mian asked pointedly, “Is it beating the small one tonight, or beating the old one later?”
Xun Yuan said, “Tonight.”
Gao Mian finally became a little curious.
---
Over at Green Gorge Island.
Chen Ping’an twisted two fingers, pinching a talisman, and lightly tossed it.
The Day and Night Wandering Deity True Body talismans appeared.
Then he handed that golden demon-binding rope, made from the old flood dragon’s whiskers from Jiaolong Trench, to one of the Night Wandering Deities.
Then, in a sudden movement, Chen Ping’an truly gripped the unsheathed sword immortal.
Liu Laocheng laughed heartily, but his eyes were dark. “All over Shujian Lake they say you’re a very strange sword cultivator. Anyway, I’ve been paying more attention to you than to Liu Zhimao. Let’s see if you truly have the skill to make me lose money again.”
Without any visible motion from Liu Laocheng.
That Molten Gold Flame Spirit Seal hovering in the air dropped golden flames in drops, each drop expanding into a pale golden armored soldier holding various weapons—several dozen of them. Landing on Green Gorge Island, they swarmed toward the two Day and Night Wandering Deity true body puppets.
Not only that, but from the waters of Shujian Lake, as if an immortal was drawing water, pillars of water as thick as well mouths shot up and shot toward Chen Ping’an.
Chen Ping’an, holding the sword immortal, merely swung it again and again.
One water pillar after another tangled with golden sword energy threads, turning to dust in the air together.
Liu Laocheng took his time. Just deplete the opponent’s qi that way—a little qi was nothing.
The other side, however, had to fight for his life, each time shattering those water pillars that were as powerful as the largest ballistae of secular dynasties.
And he had to carefully distract part of his mind to guard against the sneak attack of the natal seal.
The hand with which Chen Ping’an held the half-immortal weapon had already stripped its flesh, revealing finger and palm bones.
Liu Laocheng toyed with him like a cat with a mouse.
From time to time, he gave the young man little surprises—like stones suddenly crashing out from the cliffs of Green Gorge Island, some as big as pavilions, roaring in, some as small as fists, silent.
Liu Laocheng found it more and more interesting.
The young man’s expression was far too calm.
His form seemed withered, his mind dried up; all his spirit and qi were already at their last gasp.
Had his heart died before his body?
Empty.
Should he just kill him in one blow, or?
Liu Laocheng rarely hesitated.
In his mind, he weighed gains and losses, but his attack never slackened.
He wanted to see how long that “breath” of this young sword cultivator, whose soul was already strained and trembling involuntarily, could last.
Inside Shujian Lake, the golden dharma manifestation, wielding the giant axe specifically designed to suppress dragon-like creatures, fought a swirling, roaring battle with the huge mud eel, whose body was crossed with wounds. The lake was full of blood.
The two Day and Night Wandering Deity true body talismans had their gold light gradually dim.
The Molten Gold Flame Spirit Seal dripped flame gold liquid continuously.
The victory in these two battlefields was beyond doubt.
But around Chen Ping’an, who never stopped swinging his sword, it was almost wrapped in a net of long-lasting golden threads.
Liu Laocheng looked at the young man, who had not spoken a word from beginning to end. His killing intent grew heavy, surpassing the thought of not killing.
At that moment, with his bony hand gripping the half-immortal sword, Chen Ping’an finally showed a dangerous flaw—a momentary stagnation of qi.
Without hesitation, Liu Laocheng slightly stirred his nearly bottomless qi sea. Surrounding Green Gorge Island, a rumbling roar followed, like thunder exploding on the lake. In an instant, hundreds of water pillars shot up simultaneously.
Chen Ping’an took a deep breath.
He silently recited two words in his heart.
Just hold the sword immortal.
Those water pillars that had broken free from Shujian Lake converged, besieging that man and his sword from all sides.
It was like a huge, mountain-sized emerald water sphere, trapping Chen Ping’an inside.
Moments later, the lake water solidified, frozen in midair.
The small figure of the young accountant had long since disappeared.
Within Green Gorge Island and its over a dozen vassal islands, thousands of cultivators, servants, and maids all believed the young man was dead.
From farther away, countless others watched this soul-stirring battle.
Some breathed a sigh of relief; some were gloating. But a rare few cultivators and ordinary people—even if they hadn’t known the accountant long—still felt some regret. Liu Zhongrun from Zhuchai Island, some maids who had dealings with the accountant, felt that Mr. Chen was different from typical immortal officials. Some were overwhelmed with emotion, like the ghost cultivator of Red Gate Mansion, or even heartbroken, like the gatekeeper Hongsu.
In midair.
A faint, barely audible cracking sound came from the surface of the huge emerald water sphere.
A golden thread revealed itself.
The sounds grew denser, more soul-shaking, like firecrackers in the streets on the first day of the new year.
Suddenly, it rained on Green Gorge Island—a winter rain.
Liu Laocheng’s expression was calm. He queried the young man via the ripples of his mind lake.
After receiving the answer,
Liu Laocheng nodded.
In the eyes of the trembling Green Gorge Island cultivators, the accountant was still suspended in place, and he made a strange move: he twisted his wrist, held the sword backward, and still without a word, faced Liu Laocheng with cupped hands, as if giving thanks.
Liu Laocheng nodded.
He withdrew the golden dharma manifestation in Shujian Lake and the natal seal.
Then he swept away.
---
In the night.
Three old men rode the wind together to Gongliu Island.
After a great battle, Liu Laocheng was calm and composed.
Such was the foundation of an Upper Five Realm cultivator.
And Liu Laocheng hadn’t even used his real killing moves.
Once that golden dharma manifestation revealed its half-glazed true body, which he had recently refined, that would be the time for a full sweep.
Gao Mian asked curiously, “Why didn’t you kill that young man? Cutting the weeds without digging up the roots isn’t your usual style, Old Liu.”
Liu Laocheng said helplessly, “Your voice is so loud, deliberately saying it for me to hear. I’m not deaf.”
Xun Yuan smiled without comment.
Liu Laocheng led the two down at the mountain gate of Gongliu Island, and they walked slowly.
Liu Laocheng said, “Since that piece of glazed golden body that helped my ascension to the twelfth realm has some connection with him, I have to acknowledge that debt. Besides, a young man who survived under Du Mao’s hand—since I have no direct conflict with him, I’ll leave a little leeway. Killing someone establishes might; wounding someone also does. It’s enough. And that kid was smart enough to make a deal with me.”
Gao Mian chuckled, “Gratitude or fear—which weighs more?”
Liu Laocheng’s face darkened.
Xun Yuan suddenly said, “If that young man hadn’t made that cupped-hand gesture, Old Liu would have reneged on the spot and killed him.”
Liu Laocheng grunted, “I have enough discernment not to raise a tiger. I could tell whether he was genuine or fake.”
Xun Yuan suddenly smiled, “You know what? Even in Shujian Lake, Chen Ping’an could outlive that Gu Can.”
Gao Mian shook his head, unconvinced. “I don’t think so. I acknowledge his integrity, but that’s one thing; surviving the martial world is another.”
Liu Laocheng nodded, however. “It’s a fact. A dog that bites doesn’t show its teeth. The reason I didn’t kill him—one important reason—is that in this filthy place called Shujian Lake, the more so-called smart people there are, the better it is if there’s one stupid guy willing to follow the rules and has enough skill. At least I, Liu Laocheng, would feel safe doing big business with him.”
Gao Mian ignored Liu Laocheng’s heartfelt words as a mountain-and-swamp wild cultivator, only catching one phrase, and roared, “You bastard, you’re flattering Old Xun?! Have you no shame? Why don’t you ever flatter me?”
Xun Yuan looked utterly helpless.
Liu Laocheng squinted at Gao Mian. “I’ve seen you get beaten till you shit yourself. How can I flatter you? I’m afraid after I flatter you, my hands will be full of shit and piss.”
Xun Yuan’s eyes lit up. “There’s such a past event? Tell me about it?”
Liu Laocheng said awkwardly, “A hero doesn’t boast of his past prowess. What’s there to talk about?”
Gao Mian laughed heartily, “Back in the day, he met the only Martial Ascension to the tenth realm in our Bottle Continent—the head of the Cui clan. A disagreement, and he rolled up his sleeves to fight. After being knocked flat, he was convinced and heartily submitted. After that, he gave himself the nickname ‘Martial Tenth Realm.’ That martial artist later disappeared, supposedly went to the Central Divine Continent. I’d guess the outcome for this ‘Martial Tenth Realm’ was similar—the mountains are higher over there. Unknown if he lived or died.”
Xun Yuan said, “A pure martial artist who can walk to the ninth realm and touch the threshold of the tenth is a person of great perseverance. On our Tongye Continent, the continent’s martial destiny is pretty weak—strange, isn’t it, that it’s even worse than your small Bottle Continent?”
Gao Mian said bluntly, “Strange my ass. Your Tongye Continent’s martial artists are just useless. How many tenth realms do you have now? Two? Do you know how many we have now in Bottle Continent? If you count the one I admire most, plus that Li Er who tore down your Tongye Sect’s ancestral hall, and Great Li’s King Song Changjing—three!”
Liu Laocheng seemed lost in thought.
Xun Yuan smiled.
This was why he could become friends with the Invincible Divine Fist gang leader.
With the smarter Liu Laocheng, he could only be an ally.
---
The battle ended.
Chen Ping’an carried Gu Can on his back and slowly descended the mountain.
The Day and Night Wandering Deity true body talismans had been tucked into his sleeve; the divine light within the talisman core had nearly been exhausted. The next time he “invited the deity down,” it would last less than an incense stick, and would dissipate without any need for battle.
Gu Can’s face was smeared with blood, pale and defeated, severely injured.
But at least he survived.
The moribund flood dragon lightly flicked its tail, swam farther away, and eventually sank to the bottom of Shujian Lake.
Over there, over the years, it had secretly dug a rough prototype of a “Dragon Palace.”
Liu Laocheng had shown his might on Green Gorge Island, using the invincible posture of an Upper Five Realm cultivator to beat both Gu Can and that dragon-like creature into near-death injuries.
The new Martial Lord Liu Zhimao, the owner of Green Gorge Island, never appeared from beginning to end.
Instead, it was that accountant who stepped in to block Liu Laocheng.
And at the end, Liu Laocheng—who had a famous saying that once spread throughout Shujian Lake: “Even if you kill until your heart softens, you must not soften your hand”—the island lord of Gongliu Island, had actually shown mercy?
In an instant, tens of thousands of wild cultivators in Shujian Lake felt as if they were looking at flowers through fog—the more they looked, the more confused they became.
On the mountain path, as the little mud eel entered its lair to begin a dormant state, Gu Can’s injuries slightly improved.
He wrapped his arms around Chen Ping’an’s neck and said softly, “Chen Ping’an, are you taking the little mud eel back? Tancui is actually quite afraid of you—after all, you’re her true master. I wouldn’t worry about her being mistreated with you. If it were someone else, once I can’t protect her, I’d rather she died. But if you take her, I can accept it. And I won’t regret it later. You know my nature—I mean what I say.”
“You keep her. With Tancui at your side, I can be at ease doing my own things.”
“Why? Aren’t you afraid that Tancui following me is nothing but helping a tiger prey?”
“I once obtained an immortal treasure on Tongye Continent—a sword called ‘Infatuation’ or ‘Heart-Eater’—it eats human hearts. If you stab it into someone’s heart, its grade increases. At first I loathed it; I couldn’t even bear to look at it, let alone use it in battle. But eventually I understood: objects are dead, people are alive. A gentleman is not a vessel and can thus control all things. Never mind, you don’t like hearing these principles. I’ll stop.”
“Go on. Strangely, before I used to get annoyed, but now listening to this nagging—I still let it go in one ear and out the other—but it sounds nice. Chen Ping’an, isn’t that strange?”
Chen Ping’an changed the subject. “This is the second time.”
Gu Can said “Oh,” with understanding. “Once for not leaving Green Gorge Island, and now for saving me. One more time, and you won’t care about me anymore—you’ll treat me as a stranger.”
Chen Ping’an said flatly, “At least you know some good from bad, a bit of a conscience.”
Gu Can smiled. “Ha. Just a little. Only for my mother and you—two people. As for my deadbeat father, I don’t have any impression; I can’t bring myself to be close. As for when we reunite and see him, whether my view will change—I don’t want to think about it.”
Chen Ping’an’s voice grew even hoarser. “Take it slowly.”
“Chen Ping’an, I still want to know why you saved me this time. Actually, I know you’ve been disappointed in me all along—I know that. That’s why I often brought the little mud eel to sit by your door, even when there was nothing to do.”
“Don’t talk.”
“I won’t die in a short while. The little mud eel is already lying in its underwater nest; I feel better already. Chen Ping’an, just say it. I want to hear… hear your reasoning.”
Chen Ping’an’s Adam’s apple moved; he forced down the blood in his throat. As long as Gu Can was willing to listen, he was willing to speak. Chen Ping’an, his face even paler than Gu Can’s, his chest heaving violently, took a few light breaths. When he steadied slightly, he said hoarsely, “I made a cut and a boundary with you. That’s a concept borrowed from playing chess, and you can also use it to practice swords. Simply put, the former is like me moving out of Spring Court to live in the house by the mountain gate. The latter is like me always watching you. As long as you don’t step out of the circle where I think you haven’t made mistakes, I will help you, and I will still be the neighbor from Niping Lane whom you first knew.”
“What if, after you came to Green Gorge Island, I still kill innocents? Would you leave? Or would you kill me?”
“I would do my best to stop you from making mistakes, just like today when I stopped Liu Laocheng from killing you. And I won’t leave Shujian Lake. There are many things waiting for me to do—for you and for myself.”
“Living like this—isn’t it tiring?”
“Back in Niping Lane, living day after day as if there would never be a turning point—wasn’t that tiring? It was tiring too. You just forgot.”
“But living isn’t meant for pleasure and satisfaction?”
“On this question we’ve circled back to the beginning. I can give you my answer, but you may not take it to heart, so I won’t. I hope that in the future, you will leave Shujian Lake and see the larger martial world with your own eyes. By the way, I have accepted a senior disciple, a little girl named Pei Qian. If you one day leave Shujian Lake and travel the world, or when you return to Longquan Prefecture and I am not there, you can look for her. I think the two of you will get along—well, or possibly, you might dislike each other.”
Gu Can was a little happy.
Because this was the first time Chen Ping’an had spoken of future matters tied to Chen Ping’an himself.
Gu Can muttered drowsily, “Chen Ping’an, I’m a little sleepy.”
Chen Ping’an said softly, “Then sleep. Don’t worry about what comes after. I’m here.”
Gu Can struggled not to lose consciousness, whimpering gently, “Chen Ping’an, I’m afraid that when I open my eyes, you will have secretly left Green Gorge Island.”
Chen Ping’an said, “No, I won’t.”
Gu Can’s voice grew fainter. “Really? You’re not lying to me?”
Chen Ping’an asked in return, “When have I ever lied to you?”
Gu Can nodded lightly and fell asleep.
Gu Can was already asleep.
So he didn’t notice that Chen Ping’an, unable to wipe his face, kept dripping blood onto Gu Can’s arm.
---
Inside Spring Court mansion.
Gu Can lay on the bed.
The matron sat by the bedside, heartbroken.
Tian Hujun brought rare and precious pills from Green Gorge Island’s secret stores.
But when she saw the accountant standing by the bed, she felt her heart tremble and her hands shake.
Chen Ping’an glanced at the pill bottle in her hand and said hoarsely, “No problem?”
Tian Hujun nodded vigorously. “I swear with my life!”
Chen Ping’an said, “When you go back, tell Liu Zhimao that I will seek him out soon.”
Tian Hujun had no choice but to agree.
After administering the pill to the unconscious Gu Can, Tian Hujun fled.
The matron was frantic, only repeating, “How could this happen? How could this be…”
Chen Ping’an moved with trembling motions, pulled a chair over, and sat beside her, asking in return, “Why couldn’t it happen?”
The matron raised her head, tear-filled eyes looking at this young man whose face had become much thinner. At that moment, he felt so unfamiliar.
Chen Ping’an asked again, “Do you also want to ask me if I deliberately let Gu Can be so badly hurt?”
The matron’s gaze wavered.
Chen Ping’an answered his own question, “No. What I could do at that moment was only this much.”
The matron sighed, lowered her brows, and nodded with tears streaming, “I believe you, Chen Ping’an.”
At that moment,
Chen Ping’an felt some sorrow.
It had to do with Gu Can and his aunt, but not much.
That night at the ferry, he had actually figured out one of the knot’s cruxes.
For Chen Ping’an to prove that point was not difficult.
He only needed to show Gu Can, without any trace, one or two details—for example, placing more importance on some external object than on Gu Can.
Gu Can’s original heart, the patch of mind-field related to Chen Ping’an, would also become barren. Soon it would be overgrown with weeds. Eventually, given Gu Can’s tendency toward extremes, he might even turn against Chen Ping’an.
Chen Ping’an didn’t want to verify it, didn’t want to test human hearts.
If he knew the answer, what then?
Leaving everything else aside and speaking only of gratitude, enmity, and gains or losses—he wasn’t afraid that Gu Can’s view of him would change from family to enemy.
When Chen Ping’an was at peace with himself, he did not fear any enemy’s power in fists. From Cai Jinjian and Fu Nanhua in the alley, to the Mountain-Moving Ape, to every enemy on his path, it was the same.
Chen Ping’an didn’t want to have lost that little runny-nosed kid from the past, only to lose again this Gu Can, who had come this far originally for his mother.
And he didn’t want Gu Can to feel the same sorrow.
In worldly affairs and human feelings—the deeper one thinks, the less one has to say to others?
Chen Ping’an sat on the chair, rested with closed eyes for a moment, then stood up.
The matron asked nervously, “Chen Ping’an, where are you going?”
Chen Ping’an said, “As long as I am on Green Gorge Island, any place is the same. Auntie, rest assured.”
The matron wanted to say more but hesitated, finally not daring to force him to stay.
As soon as Chen Ping’an walked out of Spring Court mansion, he immediately clamped his hand over his heart and covered his mouth with the other.
Forcing a breath, he walked slowly toward the house at the mountain gate.
He reached the house, opened the door, closed it, lit the lamp on the table.
Chen Ping’an sat on a bench with his back to the window, trembling, took out the medicine paste bought from the Yang Family Medicine Shop, and forced it down.
He sat alone.
On the table rested the Sword-Nourishing Gourd. Flying swords Chuyi and Shiwu were stationed at the door and by the window respectively.
If not for human ties, there would be no closeness, no intimacy.
Thus came disappointment.
Think of the family sitting late into the night, still talking of the traveler far away.
Thus came hope.
But in the end, there would still be disappointment.
After taking the medicine paste concocted by Old Man Yang, Chen Ping’an’s body and soul were both numb. He stared blankly at the lamp flame. The lampwick grew shorter; the sky was about to dawn.
The young man, his eyes lifeless as an ancient well or a deep abyss, turned his head to look out the window.
Dawn broke.