Chapter 440: Another Year When It Snows

Chapter 440: Another Year When It Snows

That day, as the sun set in the west, the sky was filled with golden carp scales, like a giant golden carp swimming across the firmament, its full body unseen by the mortal world.

The superintendent of the Qingxia Island Fishing House, an old Dragon Gate realm cultivator of extremely senior standing, personally led a timid young boy off the boat and onto the shore, walking together towards the mountain gate.

The qi refiners of Qingxia Island's Fishing House were akin to the Sticky Pole Lads of the Great Li Dynasty. The old cultivator was named Zhang Ye, a strangely effeminate name, yet he was the true confidant of River-Cutting True Lord Liu Zhimao. Zhang Ye was the earliest to follow Liu Zhimao, without a single exception. Back then, Liu Zhimao was still just a wild cultivator at the Sight-Seeking Realm, while Zhang Ye was a legitimate registered master from a reputable background and was already at the Sight-Seeking Realm. The stories behind this could fuel several drinking sessions among the older generation of Qingxia Island.

The boy was named Zeng Ye, a promising seedling just unearthed from Maoyue Island, naturally suited for ghost path cultivation. However, good aptitude in the Book-Splitting Lake did not guarantee a good future. If not for Qingxia Island's Fishing House intervening, the island lord of Maoyue Island would have used the boy to raise Gu spirits and nurture ghost fetuses. The boy's early realm ascension would have seemed to advance by leaps and bounds, as if he were a favored child of heaven carefully cultivated by Maoyue Island. In truth, on the day Zeng Ye broke into the Middle Five Realms, his soul would be dissected and his ghostly essence reaped. Then the boy would understand what it meant to have sudden misfortune.

Zhang Ye was a cultivator of indifferent temperament, not fond of chattering. Even with Liu Zhimao, Zhang Ye spoke little. But this matter was of great importance, so he had to remind again: "Zeng Ye, you've heard something of our honored Mr. Chen's many deeds. He's a very important figure. He now lives near the mountain gate. When you see Mr. Chen, there's no need to deliberately speak well of me or Qingxia Island. Just tell the truth. At Maoyue Island, you personally heard your master and the patriarch confess their schemes to me. So ultimately, this little life of yours was saved by Mr. Chen. Besides, I know what you're worried about—are you jumping from a dragon's den into a tiger's lair? I'll tell you plainly: this Mr. Chen will certainly not harm you. At Maoyue Island, you would have died a miserable death. Here at Qingxia Island, you have a true opportunity for cultivation. Honestly, even I envy you. In immortal caves, even those orthodox registered masters from the ancestral halls won't have such good luck."

Zeng Ye had a weak temperament. He had been terrified out of his wits at Maoyue Island and deeply hurt by his master. Now he was still somewhat dazed, only nodding continuously, thinking that no matter how bad things got, they couldn't be worse than at Maoyue Island.

Zhang Ye was silent for a moment, then said slowly, "Just don't forget your roots after you rise to prominence. After all, it was our Qingxia Island that pulled you out of the fire pit. No matter where you enjoy blessings under Mr. Chen in the future, you should still remember Qingxia Island's life-saving grace. What do you think, Zeng Ye?"

Zeng Ye swallowed his saliva. "I understand. I will never forget your great kindness, Immortal Master."

Zhang Ye smiled. "I'll only hear these words from you once. Keep them in your heart in the future. Don't always hang them on your lips. If you keep saying them, like a jar of wine, sipping a bit today and a bit tomorrow, it will soon be empty, and you won't take it seriously."

Zeng Ye was just a orphan his master had brought back from the market town of Stone-Hao Country to Maoyue Island. His master had poor eyesight, seeing only a slight hint, but the Dragon Gate realm patriarch of Maoyue Island had a keen eye, spotting Zeng Ye's rare bone structure at once. The patriarch planned to use sinister ghost path secret arts to hollow out Zeng Ye's natural endowment, raising two or three Middle Five Realm evil spirits. The Maoyue Island ancestor had confessed to Zeng Ye that if he had the foundation of Qingxia Island, he wouldn't have to fish the pond dry. Zeng Ye might have grown into Maoyue Island's first Golden Core earth immortal, but he simply didn't have that many immortal spirit coins to waste.

Zeng Ye naturally felt a chill run down his spine.

All that needed to be said and done was nearly complete. Zhang Ye led Zeng Ye to the door and knocked lightly. "Mr. Chen, I've brought you the suitable candidate."

Suddenly, a great surge of terror welled up in Zeng Ye's heart, as if drowning in a tide. His legs went weak.

Just as that old immortal had said—how could he not fear jumping from one fire pit into another oil cauldron?

Then, for the first time in his life, the young Zeng Ye saw that man named Chen Ping'an.

The door opened.

Although Zeng Ye was only fourteen, he was already tall and sturdy, not losing to a grown man. So he didn't need to look up to see the man's face clearly.

The man wore a thick blue cotton robe, a white jade hairpin stuck in his hair. He was slender, with a gaunt face.

He didn't look like old immortals like Zhang Ye, nor like noble sons like Lü Caisang or Yuan Yuan.

Then the man smiled. "Hello, my name is Chen Ping'an. What's yours?"

Zeng Ye wanted to speak, but his whole body was tense, limbs rigid, lips barely moving. He couldn't utter a single word.

Zhang Ye was somewhat helpless. He had to answer for this dumbstruck boy: "Mr. Chen, his name is Zeng Ye, 'Ye' from 'Ye Ting' [the palace side chambers]. A wretch I fished out of Maoyue Island. He meets your requirements—his natural aptitude and bone structure are suited for ghost path cultivation. He is the first choice for yin objects to attach to and ghosts to inhabit. Walking together in the yang world would not only not damage the boy's vitality but would instead aid cultivation."

Chen Ping'an nodded, then said to Zeng Ye with a smile, "I know a crude method called the Weighing Scale Art. Just stand still, and I'll test how heavy your spirit is."

Zeng Ye stood frozen, no reaction.

Chen Ping'an waited, not moving.

Zhang Ye clapped Zeng Ye lightly on the shoulder. "Can't even nod your head now?"

The clap brought Zeng Ye back to his senses. He nodded vigorously.

Chen Ping'an grabbed the boy's shoulder and lifted gently. Zeng Ye's toes rose but didn't leave the ground.

Chen Ping'an let go and nodded. "Not too heavy. I'll pay attention to your soul's signs from now on. If anything goes wrong, I won't force you to hold on."

Zeng Ye still didn't speak. He didn't dare, and didn't know what to say.

It was as if he had lost his soul again.

After all, on that gloomy Maoyue Island, before his bone structure was discovered by the patriarch, he was already bullied by the inner disciples. Facing an exalted old immortal from Qingxia Island like Zhang Ye, and a young immortal who seemed even more extraordinary, not needing someone to support him was already Zeng Ye's greatest effort.

Zhang Ye sighed helplessly. "Mr. Chen, isn't this boy's temperament a bit too poor? Should I look around the Book-Splitting Lake for someone else?"

Chen Ping'an had actually been observing Zeng Ye's expression and eyes the whole time. He shook his head with a smile. "It's fine. I think he's quite good."

Zhang Ye breathed a sigh of relief. His task was done.

Maoyue Island hadn't dared to ask for an exorbitant price, but they wouldn't give him away for free either. That was the unwritten rule of the Book-Splitting Lake. Either Qingxia Island would attack directly, seize the boy, and annex Maoyue Island entirely. Then not just Zeng Ye, but all of Maoyue Island's people and property could be taken for free. But since Qingxia Island chose to do business peacefully, they had to act like it. So Zhang Ye, after Maoyue Island offered a fairly reasonable price, didn't haggle and paid the immortal spirit coins.

Chen Ping'an was familiar with this. "What price did Maoyue Island ask?"

Zhang Ye hesitated briefly, then said slowly, "According to Maoyue Island's patriarch, conservatively speaking, Zeng Ye could eventually raise one ghost fetus and one yin spirit. Within twenty years, at minimum, that would be equivalent to two Cavern Dwelling realm cultivators. After deducting the cost of cultivating Zeng Ye to the Middle Five Realms, Maoyue Island asked for ten Grain Rain Coins."

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment. "On my end, I also have to add all the manpower costs of you, Elder Zhang, and the Qingxia Island Fishing House. So let's call it fifteen Grain Rain Coins. Charge it to Qingxia Island's account first. I'll pay it along with other expenses later."

Zhang Ye nodded. "No problem."

That troublemaker of theirs, Gu Can, and the top young talents like Lü Caisang of Drumming Bird Island and Yuan Yuan of Oriole Island were all different from the old generation of wild cultivators in the Book-Splitting Lake. They took pleasure in breaking old rules, using it as a foundation to gather followers and build their reputation.

Zhang Ye dared not say they were definitely wrong. After all, when he met these little brats, he had to greet them with a smile. But still, it made him uncomfortable.

Yet the young people who disregarded all rules seemed to be doing better instead. That left old-timers like Zhang Ye feeling helpless.

So Chen Ping'an's behavior earned him a bit of goodwill from Zhang Ye.

Otherwise, given the prestige this man had accumulated in the Book-Splitting Lake, even if he insisted on not paying a single Snow Flower Coin, wouldn't he, Zhang Ye, and Qingxia Island have to swallow it and accept it?

But that little goodwill didn't amount to much.

Thinking about this, Zhang Ye became even more dejected. He always felt something was off, but couldn't figure out what.

This was the Book-Splitting Lake.

He was a Dragon Gate realm cultivator with no hope for the Great Dao. Becoming a Golden Core was completely out of the question. Liu Zhimao had privately done everything he could, exhausted his benevolence. In this energetic, thriving Book-Splitting Lake, Zhang Ye was no different from an elderly man in the marketplace with his candle flickering in the wind. But unlike the latter, a qi refiner had a keener sense of his own body decaying and soul withering. That sense of slowly being buried alive, inch by inch—if Zhang Ye weren't relatively broad-minded, not extreme or paranoid, he would have already done something mad. After all, in the Book-Splitting Lake, where evil is rampant and good deeds court death, there were plenty of ways to vent.

And so the young Zeng Ye settled down on Qingxia Island.

In the house next to Chen Ping'an.

When the Maoyue Island boy closed the door and sat on the bed, he felt as if he were in another lifetime.

He didn't sleep well the whole night. He dozed off and slept until the sun was high the next day. When he opened his eyes and looked at the unfamiliar surroundings, his face was blank. It took him a long time to remember he was no longer a Maoyue Island cultivator. After thinking it over, he kept building up his courage. But the moment he stepped out of the house, he saw someone in an ink-green python robe sitting at the next door, on a small bamboo chair, cracking melon seeds, turning to look at him.

Zeng Ye was so startled he almost turned and ran back to hide under the covers.

Gu Can asked, "You're Zeng Ye? The one from Maoyue Island?"

Sweat beaded on Zeng Ye's forehead.

This little demon had stirred up bloody storms across the Book-Splitting Lake. Although Zeng Ye had never seen him in person, only his portrait in the Catkin Island gazette, the content of those gazettes and the way Maoyue Island cultivators spoke of Gu Can were still fresh in his memory. He had assumed he would never meet Gu Can in his lifetime, and he didn't want to. If he did, it would probably be the day Gu Can and that big mud loach of his flattened Maoyue Island.

Gu Can said impatiently, "So he's an idiot."

Zeng Ye dared not talk back.

The fact that Gu Can didn't just slap his head into mush made Zeng Ye almost want to kneel and give thanks.

Then the suffocating tension suddenly vanished.

It turned out the man in the blue cotton robe had walked to the doorway.

He said to Gu Can, "Your body is weak now, at the peak of decline. You're more susceptible than ordinary folk to yin-cold evil qi seeping into your qi mansion. Go back to Spring Courtyard Mansion to recuperate."

Gu Can nodded, looked at the remaining small pile of melon seeds in his hand, and handed them to Chen Ping'an. "I'll go then."

Chen Ping'an took the seeds, picked one up, and started cracking it. "When the charcoal snow can return to shore, tell her to come find me. I have something for her."

Gu Can grinned brightly. "Got it!"

After Gu Can left, Chen Ping'an offered the seeds to Zeng Ye, who quickly shook his head.

Chen Ping'an went inside, brought out a chair, handed it to Zeng Ye, and sat down on the bamboo chair Gu Can had been using.

Zeng Ye nervously perched on the chair, not knowing where to put his hands or feet.

Chen Ping'an cracked seeds and smiled. "You might need to stay by my side, from two or three years up to seven or eight—hard to say. You can call me Mr. Chen. It's not that my name is too precious to be called, but it wouldn't be appropriate. Everyone on Qingxia Island is watching this place now. You can just be as you are—watch more, speak less. As for doing things, aside from what I tell you, don't do anything extra for now. Better not. If you don't understand now, that's fine."

Zeng Ye nodded silently.

Chen Ping'an suddenly asked, "Are you afraid of ghosts?"

Zeng Ye wanted to speak but hesitated.

Chen Ping'an said, "Zeng Ye, let me tell you one more thing: with me, you don't have to be afraid of saying the wrong thing. Just say what's on your mind."

Zeng Ye then said, "I'm not afraid of ghosts. I've been able to see unclean things since I was little. When I followed my master to Maoyue Island, many senior uncles and sisters there kept ghosts."

Chen Ping'an asked casually, "Do you hate your master?"

Zeng Ye pursed his lips and fell silent again. The simple boy's face showed sadness and a trace of stubbornness.

Chen Ping'an nodded. "So there's some hatred, but more hurt, right? And when you think about it, your master wasn't really a bad person. If not for him, you might have died long ago. So no matter what, you still want to think of him and Maoyue Island as family and a real home."

Zeng Ye lowered his head and said "Mm," his eyes blurry with tears. "I know I'm stupid. I'm sorry, Mr. Chen. I probably won't be able to help you much in the future. I'll make mistakes often. Then you can hit me or scold me—I'll accept it."

Chen Ping'an cracked seeds, looking into the distance, and said softly, "Is that stupidity? I don't think so."

Zeng Ye was too caught up in his sadness to hear clearly. He only remembered that the honored guest sitting beside him was a patron of Qingxia Island, and he should be listening carefully to every golden rule. This made him feel even more worthless and deserving of suffering.

Chen Ping'an said, "But I'm not saying this to put you down, Zeng Ye. You really are too timid. When I was your age, I was already standing on my own. When I met so-called big shots, I never felt nervous or afraid."

After finishing the seeds, Chen Ping'an rubbed his stubbled chin with his palm and said self-deprecatingly, "Saying that is a bit shameless. Hmm, I'll go to Purple Bamboo Island later and ask for another bamboo stalk to make myself a bamboo knife. Together with that imitation Qu Huang I bought from Ape Cry Street, I can learn from my first head disciple—sword and saber at odds—to scare people. It'll do."

Zeng Ye was slow to react. It took him a moment to say, "How could I compare to Mr. Chen?"

Chen Ping'an smiled and stood up. "Can you read? If you know characters, I'll teach you two secret arts first. They're not considered high-grade, but if you cultivate them properly, you'll be no worse off than at Maoyue Island."

Zeng Ye quickly stood up too. "I can read, but my master always called me stupid."

Chen Ping'an picked up the chair. "That's fine. If you encounter anything you don't understand, just ask me."

As he stepped over the threshold, Chen Ping'an turned back to see Zeng Ye following cautiously, empty-handed.

Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "Your master wasn't wrong to call you stupid. Carry the bamboo chair!"

Zeng Ye suddenly realized and immediately went back to pick up the chair.

Chen Ping'an smiled.

So there was finally a normal child by his side.

That was good.

When he thought this, the accountant didn't realize he was only three years older than the young Zeng Ye.

---

In the following days, except for sleeping in the next room, Zeng Ye spent almost all his time at Mr. Chen's place, repeatedly flipping through those few pages written in neat small-standard script. Zeng Ye, having already entered the Lower Five Realms, could read, but that ghost path secret art that Mr. Chen called "not particularly high-grade"—the characters didn't seem interested in making his acquaintance.

Almost every two or three sentences, Zeng Ye would hit an obstacle and questions would pop up. At first, he tried to grit his teeth and skip a few paragraphs to finish browsing the art before asking. But the more he read, the more his head ached. He broke out in a cold sweat and even showed dangerous signs of losing control of his soul. Alarmed, Zeng Ye remembered some taboos about superior secret arts—the higher the grade, the less you could immerse yourself carelessly. If you got lost and had no protector, it could harm the very foundation of your path.

Mr. Chen had been sitting beside him the whole time. He didn't deliberately warn Zeng Ye at first, only doing so after Zeng Ye put down the papers that felt as heavy as a thousand pounds and gasped for breath.

Only then did Chen Ping'an nod inwardly. Mediocre talent wasn't the most terrifying thing. It was a shallow, impatient nature that was the real obstacle to cultivating this ghost path art.

If Zeng Ye lacked even that much self-control, following him for this task would only push him step by step toward qi deviation.

Chen Ping'an wouldn't drive him away, but he definitely wouldn't let Zeng Ye continue cultivating. He'd just treat him as a neighbor, like that old cultivator guarding the mountain gate.

Chen Ping'an would rather let fifteen Grain Rain Coins go to waste than force Zhang Ye and the Fishing House to find another candidate.

After suffering that setback, Zeng Ye stopped pretending to be tough. Whenever he had doubts, he immediately asked Mr. Chen.

Chen Ping'an explained everything one by one.

Partly because Wei Bo had left detailed annotations, and partly because Chen Ping'an had sparred multiple times with Ma Yuanzhi of Vermillion String Mansion, Earth Immortal Yu Gui, and a yin-yang sect grand cultivator, so he had some insights of his own.

As for why he didn't just give Zeng Ye an "annotated version" or spill everything like pouring beans from a bamboo tube—all the subtleties and precautions—that touched on the boy's own path of cultivation.

Meeting was fate, and Chen Ping'an hoped Zeng Ye could truly benefit from this transaction, finding a foundation for his future breakthroughs into the Middle Five Realms and beyond.

Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.

That was how A Liang had treated him, and Chen Ping'an was willing to treat a fourteen-year-old Book-Splitting Lake boy the same way, because Zeng Ye was still a simple-natured youth who hadn't been completely stained by the dye vat of the Book-Splitting Lake.

This secret art of Wei Bo's was certainly not low-grade.

Chen Ping'an took it out, and Zeng Ye reached out and took it. Whether he could hold onto it wasn't just about learning it.

How Zeng Ye learned it—how much effort and perseverance he poured into it—mattered. If he got it too easily, such a great fortune, would he truly cherish it? Would he constantly ask himself in his long cultivation career, reminding himself of the "hard-won" nature of that original opportunity?

No matter how other mountain sects, immortal caves, or schools taught their disciples, as long as they were under him, the rule was: slow but steady.

Soon, though, Chen Ping'an had a headache.

Because Zeng Ye... was just too dense!

Chen Ping'an had always thought his own aptitude was mediocre. The person who taught him to read and the "Mountain Toppling Fist Manual" was Ning Yao. When he traveled far to Sui, he had the little girl in the red cotton-padded jacket, Li Baoping, who was quick-witted and could infer analogies. For cultivation, there was Lin Shouyi. For martial arts, the fist teaching came from that "invincible before him" old man Cui. Later, on Sword Qi Great Wall, he met his peer Cao Ci, stunningly brilliant. Chen Ping'an lost three matches in a row. And finally, by his side was Pei Qian, who practiced the Eighteen Stops of Sword Qi as if it were child's play, and that charcoal girl was his first head disciple. For charisma and style, there were Lu Tai, Liu Qingshan...

Even after Chen Ping'an began to introspect, after his experiences in Lotus Flower Blessed Land, he no longer blindly belittled himself. But old habits die hard, and there were still some lingering effects.

It wasn't until he met the blockhead Zeng Ye that Chen Ping'an almost thought he himself was a cultivation genius. He almost sighed with emotion: no wonder the great old sword immortal had once let slip heavenly secrets, saying that if he hadn't shattered his natal porcelain and broken his longevity bridge, he would have originally possessed "earth immortal aptitude."

Because Zeng Ye was just too dull.

Often, a single line of mantra, turned over and over, meticulously explained by Chen Ping'an for half a day, would only go from "completely lost" to "barely understanding" for Zeng Ye.

Back then, when Ning Yao taught the essence of the Mountain Toppling Fist in the ancestral house on Mud Vase Alley, Chen Ping'an felt he understood it clearly. It was just that when he actually walked the stance, he wobbled a bit and made a fool of himself. But he soon gained some insight. It was just that he didn't appreciate the blessing at the time. He didn't realize that the "fist intent" that pure martial artists desperately sought had long been flowing through his body. Though the intent wasn't vigorous, the transition from nothing to something had already crossed the first major threshold of martial arts, equivalent to a qi refiner reaching the heavens in one step—no mean feat.

Fortunately, Chen Ping'an wasn't an impatient man. If Zeng Ye learned slowly, then he would teach even more slowly, more thoroughly.

Three pages. Zeng Ye learned one page a day, and it was still very hard.

So every day, the boy felt guilty, as if he had let Mr. Chen down.

Chen Ping'an didn't say anything. He didn't comfort the boy, nor did he say empty words like "Your aptitude is actually quite good."

Worldly affairs are complex; the original heart is sincere.

These two are inherently contradictory, and they will inevitably collide, with the latter often losing.

The more trials and hardships Zeng Ye experienced now, the more solid his foundation would be. Then, when real big things came, he wouldn't lose before the battle even started, or give up after a few moves.

Being on Qingxia Island in the Book-Splitting Lake, Chen Ping'an now had plenty of time to look back on the past. Unknowingly, he savored many flavors he hadn't had time to ponder before. For example, that barefoot old man on the second floor of Fallen Mountain Bamboo Tower once said that the so-called "pure martial artist" is not about pure fist techniques or moves. Learning ten thousand fists in the world doesn't hinder the word "pure." True purity lies in one's fist intent, and even more in one's nature. It's simple: you, Chen Ping'an, when you first practiced fist, at the second or third realm, an ant. When you face fourth, fifth, eighth, ninth, or even tenth realm martial artists, in your heart you know you're bound to lose. But once you're in a desperate situation, fighting for life and death, do you still dare to throw a punch? Can your fist intent remain undiminished? Can it become even purer, charging forward without hesitation?

When facing a strong enemy, in terms of nature, you must first establish yourself in an undefeatable position before you have a chance to win, even if it's only a one-in-ten-thousand chance.

If your fist intent wavers even slightly, then even that one-in-ten-thousand chance is gone! If you admit defeat, then why practice fist? Why endure hardship?

Three days later, Zeng Ye barely grasped the secret art and began formal cultivation.

Chen Ping'an then reminded him not to pursue speed. As long as Zeng Ye was slow and error-free, Chen Ping'an could wait. If he made mistakes and had to correct them, that would truly waste time and immortal spirit coins. To make Zeng Ye feel it more deeply, Chen Ping'an's method was simple: if Zeng Ye, in his haste, messed up his cultivation, causing damage to his soul, he would have to take immortal pills to mend his body. Chen Ping'an would pay for the medicine, but every single pill's cost, even just one Snow Flower Coin, would be recorded in Zeng Ye's debt ledger.

Finally, for the first time, Chen Ping'an showed a serious expression. Standing at the door of Zeng Ye's soon-to-be "secluded cultivation" room, he said, "Between you and me, it's a transactional relationship. I will try my best to make it mutually beneficial, so that one day we can part amicably. But don't forget: I am not your master, nor am I your path protector. You must always remember this."

Zeng Ye was a bit afraid of Mr. Chen in such a state and quickly nodded.

If not for that, after three days of getting along with the approachable and kind Mr. Chen, the boy had almost forgotten the scene of their first meeting, almost forgotten his own embarrassment and fear.

In contrast, Gu Can, whom he had only met once, was always vividly remembered. One night he had a nightmare: the demon in the ink-green python robe ripped open his chest, gouged out his heart and liver, and swallowed them. Gu Can grinned and said, "So delicious." Zeng Ye looked down blankly at the bloody hole in his chest... then woke up, sitting in bed, scared half to death. It took him a long time to calm down.

While Zeng Ye formally began cultivating the secret art, Chen Ping'an went to Moon Hook Island and Jade Pot Island. He spent money to purchase, from Yu Gui and that yin-yang sect cultivator, those residual souls or yin objects that had turned into fierce ghosts. He placed them into a ghost path treasure called "Yama's Hall," which he had acquired on credit from Qingxia Island's secret treasury. It was a miniature pavilion of arm's-height gloomy wood, divided into three hundred and sixty-five tiny rooms as dwellings for ghosts and yin spirits, extremely suitable for raising and imprisoning yin spirits.

Previously, in the battle where Chen Ping'an intercepted Liu Laocheng on Qingxia Island, Yu Gui and the yin-yang cultivator had witnessed it. So the total price was reduced by twenty percent.

Of course, the two old foxes, being generals under River-Cutting True Lord, wouldn't admit they were being "generous" because they feared Chen Ping'an's combat power. It's hard for a seller to raise prices and make the buyer pay more silver, but it's easy for a seller to find an excuse to lower prices and give the buyer a discount. Chen Ping'an naturally wouldn't point it out. He thanked the two cultivators, and in the process, they built a bit of insignificant incense-fire friendship.

When Chen Ping'an went to the two islands to negotiate the deals, he carried his long-absent bamboo basket, used to hold that "True Mandate" treasure, the Yama's Hall, which ghost cultivators dream of.

Yu Gui and the yin-yang cultivator saw it but didn't show any surprise, deliberately ignoring it.

In their view, the fact that Chen Ping'an had fought Liu Laocheng to a standstill that night and could still be bouncing around was already something even Nascent Soul seniors would admire. His inability to refine the Yama's Hall into his qi mansion simply meant his situation was currently unfavorable, his qi mansion unstable. It wasn't worth being surprised about.

The minor refinement technique of immortal instruments and treasures—turning physical objects into void and hiding them in the qi mansion—wasn't too difficult in itself, and the threshold wasn't high. However, first, it would occupy the qi mansion and continuously consume spiritual energy. The better the item, the more massive the absorption. That's why back on Sword Qi Great Wall, the sword-bearing gatekeeper handed over the golden binding rope and also taught a refinement mantra, which Chen Ping'an learned quickly.

Second, the success of minor refinement also depended on the grade of the instrument. Generally, even a half-immortal weapon couldn't be used by an earth immortal, let alone refined. One reason for the Fu family of Old Dragon City's deterrence was that their earth immortal could fully wield a half-immortal weapon.

So not only Yu Gui and the yin-yang cultivator, but also Liu Zhimao and all other Qingxia Island cultivators, found the biggest mystery to be that Chen Ping'an could actually use that sword, likely a half-immortal weapon!

A young accountant controlling an unknown immortal sword, able to trade fist for fist with a military strategist, possessing two natal flying swords...

These incomprehensible aspects were precisely Chen Ping'an's capital for reasoning in the Book-Splitting Lake.

But if ordinary wild cultivators or scattered immortals in the Book-Splitting Lake had such advantages, they would probably be even more unreasonable. With strong fists and great ability, isn't the purpose to be unreasonable? What else? Be kind to others? The Book-Splitting Lake never had such logic. For generations, a thousand islands, tens of thousands of cultivators, had long been accustomed to it. Perhaps only Liu Laocheng, with the highest cultivation in the Book-Splitting Lake, was the sole exception.

Unfortunately, Liu Laocheng now refused to see any cultivator from the Book-Splitting Lake. The sole cultivator who set foot on Palace Willow Island was the island lord of Grain Island, whose true identity was a major spy of the Great Li Song clan. Otherwise, no one could have landed there.

Chen Ping'an returned to Qingxia Island, then went to Vermillion String Mansion again.

At Pearl Hairpin Island, from Liu Zhongrun's mouth, he had learned the inside story of those potholed two-country secret histories. Now, looking at the hanging plaque of Vermillion String Mansion, he felt some emotion.

Chen Ping'an rubbed his chin and wondered if he should shave his beard.

Otherwise, would he end up like Xu Yuanxia, with a big beard?

The ghost cultivator Ma Yuanzhi appeared at the mansion gate and shouted curses, telling Chen Ping'an to get lost.

Chen Ping'an didn't leave. He hadn't discussed business yet.

After Ma Yuanzhi finished cursing, he asked, "The Catkin Island gazette says your latest visit to Pearl Hairpin Island was to see Liu Zhongrun, surrounded by a swarm of beauties?! The gazette also claims that Liu Zhongrun looks favorably on you, and you might even take a position as her honored guest on Pearl Hairpin Island!"

Chen Ping'an rolled his eyes.

Ma Yuanzhi asked suspiciously, "Nothing really going on?"

Chen Ping'an didn't answer.

Ma Yuanzhi immediately grinned. "Mr. Chen, a man of such noble character, a true gentleman, naturally wouldn't compete with me for Liu Zhongrun. I was rude. Come, come, sit in my mansion. If you can guarantee that you'll have absolutely nothing to do with Liu Zhongrun for the rest of your life, especially no romantic involvement, then I'll give you half price on that previous deal!"

Chen Ping'an asked, "I naturally have no improper thoughts toward Island Lord Liu. But what if she pursues me relentlessly?"

Ma Yuanzhi laughed heartily. "I didn't know Mr. Chen could tell jokes too. The long princess? Like you? She's not bewitched—impossible."

Then Ma Yuanzhi said quietly, "But just in case, if that day really comes and the long princess loses her head, please, Mr. Chen, keep your composure! Show the backbone of a cultured man! A friend's wife is not to be trifled with."

Walking with Ma Yuanzhi inside Vermillion String Mansion, Chen Ping'an's scalp tingled. He barely held back from revealing Liu Zhongrun's opinion of Ma Yuanzhi. He swallowed the words. Thinking of the story of this Rice-Carrying Man and Liu Zhongrun, he could only sigh.

Knowing he would have to go to Pearl Hairpin Island at least one more time made Chen Ping'an even more headache-ridden.

He could only assure Ma Yuanzhi that he would never provoke Liu Zhongrun, and entertained no thoughts of her.

Ma Yuanzhi was satisfied. Before taking a seat in the hall, he glanced at Chen Ping'an and said, "If it were when you first arrived at Qingxia Island, I might still be worried. But with your current appearance, not much better than me, I can rest assured a hundred times over!"

Chen Ping'an took off his bamboo basket and brought out the Yama's Hall treasure. "Then thank you for your trust," he said helplessly.

After that, the two began their transaction.

Ma Yuanzhi exclaimed over the Yama's Hall, whose base was engraved with the characters "Lower Prison." He was salivating, staring unblinkingly at the small, exquisite wooden pavilion. He said bluntly, "I've been fighting tooth and nail on Qingxia Island for so many years, always hoping that one day I'd earn this reward from the True Lord through merit. If that didn't work, I'd save up enough money, sell everything, and buy it. You need to know, the Yama's Hall is the most fundamental treasure for us ghost cultivators. Those ghost path earth immortals, without a Yama's Hall, wouldn't even dare greet their peers. But of course, Yama's Halls have grades. This is the lowest kind, and already quite a formidable treasure. I hear the highest-cultivation Nascent Soul ghost cultivator in our Bottle Gourd Continent has a 'Great Prison' grade Yama's Hall, as big as a real tall building, with three thousand six hundred rooms. When a cultivator sends out a yin spirit to travel, walking inside, with eerie winds and ghostly wails, it's quite pleasant. It can also aid cultivation."

Chen Ping'an said, "When I leave the Book-Splitting Lake someday, I might sell it to you."

Ma Yuanzhi turned his head and grinned. "I've been waiting for you to say that! Right on!"

After paying the immortal spirit coins, Ma Yuanzhi led Chen Ping'an to the well at the bottom of Vermillion String Mansion's well. He had Chen Ping'an place the pavilion on the ground.

Ma Yuanzhi took out a soul-summoning banner, stepped in a ritual pace, and chanted incantations, circulating spiritual energy. Wisps of green smoke drifted out of the banner and took the form of yin objects upon touching the ground. From the well, pale arms climbed over the rim, slowly emerging. Clearly, the well's suppression of ghosts and yin spirits was stronger. Even after leaving the well prison, some were still disoriented, barely able to stand. Ma Yuanzhi paid no heed, ordering the ghosts to walk or crawl as they could, gradually transforming into mustard-seed-sized forms and entering the Yama's Hall.

Chen Ping'an stood to the side, watching. He had already seen the same scene twice, at Yu Gui's and the yin-yang cultivator's places.

It looked like a bleak wind and drizzling rain, but in truth, it was the pain of being exposed to the scorching sun.

Before leaving Vermillion String Mansion, the ghost cultivator did not see him off. He stood by the well mouth and suddenly said to Chen Ping'an in a deep voice, "Why put yourself through this? Labor, effort, spirit, and not a bit of gratitude."

Chen Ping'an said softly, "I've already lost. I just want peace of mind."

Ma Yuanzhi sneered. "Just for peace of mind? Isn't the immortal spirit coins you're forking out a bit too much?"

Chen Ping'an retorted, "The person who gives you peace of mind is Liu Zhongrun. For her, you secretly went to the border of Vermillion Flame Dynasty and that vassal state where that man was the retired emperor. You even threw your life at it. I don't see you feeling pain or regret."

Ma Yuanzhi was stunned, speechless.

Then he suddenly laughed. "It's different. I did that to win the long princess's favor, hoping to become her Dao partner, even just a few nights of pleasure. The long princess is the greatest pursuit of this lowly Rice-Carrying Man. What can you get?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Different paths, no need to say more."

Ma Yuanzhi sighed. "We're brothers in misery. Both of us are ugly bastards who don't catch women's eyes. Birds of a feather. Come visit Vermillion String Mansion often. Seeing you lifts my spirits."

This time, Chen Ping'an was speechless.

Chen Ping'an shouldered his bamboo basket and left the mansion with the blind owner.

He wasn't handsome, and now he was unkempt, but he wasn't so ugly as to be lumped with Ma Yuanzhi, was he?

He himself could accept it, but his parents wouldn't.

After leaving the mansion gate, Chen Ping'an smiled.

Hong Su was no longer at Vermillion String Mansion. Liu Zhimao had his steward arrange her as a maidservant in his own Cross Wave Mansion. She was said to have a female official title, managing a dozen or so maids.

The ghost cultivator Ma Yuanzhi was probably baffled but didn't dare refuse such a small request from the island lord's confidant.

Chen Ping'an had made a special trip to see Hong Su once, his first visit to Cross Wave Mansion. At that time, Hong Su wasn't in high spirits. Chen Ping'an knew it was because she, an outsider from Vermillion String Mansion, had suddenly been promoted to the central government office like an obscure local clerk. Worse, she had become a minor official, which would naturally cause severe alienation from colleagues and subordinates.

But when she saw Chen Ping'an, Hong Su was very happy.

Chen Ping'an declined the chief steward's hospitality and simply had Hong Su show him around the mansion before leaving.

After that, one day, Hong Su asked the steward for an hour off and left the strictly hierarchical and stifling Cross Wave Mansion. She went to the mountain gate to find Mr. Chen, but the door was shut. She stood outside, then went to the ferry, but in the end, she didn't see the accountant's lean figure.

Hong Su had no choice but to return to Cross Wave Mansion, storing up the gratitude and thanks in her heart for later.

But she didn't know that Chen Ping'an was sitting behind his desk the whole time.

Just like when he was a child boiling medicine: besides the quality of the herbs, the most important thing was the heat.

Too much is as bad as too little.

Chen Ping'an appreciated Hong Su's gratitude.

But he couldn't ignore his own identity and Hong Su's situation.

When Liu Zhimao visited that day and deliberately mentioned the bare-chested young woman created by Gu Can, Chen Ping'an saw it as a lapse in judgment. So he mentioned hearing that the True Lord was skilled at brewing tea to hint that Liu Zhimao should stop such petty tricks.

Liu Zhimao caught the hint immediately and stopped trying to stir up trouble between Chen Ping'an and Gu Can.

Gaining an extra sincere friend in the Book-Splitting Lake would require extra mental energy and great cost in the future.

Chen Ping'an understood.

But he also knew that having a friend like Hong Su on Qingxia Island was actually very important for his state of mind.

Like moonlight reflected in a ditch—the water trickles slowly. It can't replenish a parched heart, but having that clear, shallow ditch is a world apart from not having it.

Back then, to repay kindness, Chen Ping'an did many small things for Gu Can's family, including fetching water in the middle of the night. He knew that during severe droughts, even if he couldn't get water or couldn't outfight the vigilant strong men patrolling at night, as long as water still flowed in the ditch.

There was hope.

When others let their guard down and went home to sleep, Chen Ping'an, lurking in the shadows, could dash over, dig open the small earthen dam at the edge of the upper field, listen to the cheerful gurgling of water as it ran down the ridges, until it reached the ridges of Gu Can's family's fields. Then he would squat down, build a small dam, and let the ditch water flow into the fields. He would watch the water level rise bit by bit, waiting patiently until it was full. Then he would dig away the little dam and let the water flow onward.

In all those years, Gu Can's family almost never worried about getting water. They never quarreled with the neighbors.

Chen Ping'an never felt he was repaying a kindness.

It was just what he should do.

The world is hard to settle. If you can't settle things, first settle your own heart. Then life can always go on, and you might not even feel it's so bitter.

---

That day, Zeng Ye stumbled and pushed open the door, his face covered in blood.

Chen Ping'an was already standing outside. He helped the boy back to the table and took out a bottle of pills. Their grade was not high—ordinary pills from Qingxia Island's secret treasury, worth one Small Heat Coin. Usually, Cavern Dwelling and Sight-Seeking realm cultivators bought them in bulk from the treasury. For a third-realm qi refiner like Zeng Ye, they were more than enough. High-grade pills with too-rich spiritual energy couldn't be retained by Lower Five Realm qi refiners; they couldn't refine and store it.

Zeng Ye swallowed the pill, his face pallid, guilt overwhelming him. He almost cried. "Mr. Chen, I'm sorry. I was too impatient."

Chen Ping'an waved his hand and explained to the boy, "Don't go to extremes. Today, it wasn't really impatience. It was a hurdle you had to grit your teeth and cross. You just failed. So these pills won't be recorded in the ledger. Distinguish the difference between reckless advancement and fear of difficulty. And you must first understand the 'centered' state of mind you should pursue. If you don't, every time you hit a bottleneck in cultivation, you'll instinctively retreat, hesitating, which will only hinder your progress."

Zeng Ye wiped his face and smiled. "I'll remember!"

Chen Ping'an said, "Remember, and then think more. Otherwise, it will never become a stepping stone for your ascension. Since you admit you're slower, you need to think more, spend more effort and endure more hardship on the simple things that clever people don't need to dwell on."

Zeng Ye nodded.

The logic was simple. He could still understand that.

Chen Ping'an took off his Sword-Nurturing Gourd and took a sip of wine. He hesitated for a moment. "Only after you've done your utmost and tried everything can you afford to complain about fate and others."

If it were the past, Chen Ping'an would have said that even then, you shouldn't complain.

But here and now, Chen Ping'an wouldn't say such words.

Chen Ping'an let Zeng Ye regulate his breathing and heal, digesting the pill's spiritual energy.

Chen Ping'an stood up but suddenly turned to look.

Zeng Ye followed his gaze. Outside the window, the lake view was bleak, nothing unusual.

Chen Ping'an frowned. "Don't get distracted."

Zeng Ye immediately focused.

Chen Ping'an stood, closed the door for him, hesitated, and decided not to go to the ferry to clear his mind.

Instead, he returned to his own room.

He took the Yama's Hall out of his bamboo basket and tossed in Snow Flower Coins one by one.

The reason immortal spirit coins were called immortal spirit coins was that their spiritual energy was pure, not divided into yin and yang.

Cultivators could use them. Ghosts could too.

The Dao has no favoritism.

The seasons turn; birth, aging, sickness, death; yin and yang apart; time flows.

Chen Ping'an sat at his desk and opened a "ledger" that was entirely handwritten records.

He took out a pill secretly stored in the water hall of Pearl Hairpin Island, swallowed it gently, then closed his eyes to rest. When the spiritual energy slowly flowed into his own water mansion, with a slight surplus, he opened his eyes and read the names on the first page of the ledger, their hometowns, and their life stories. This page recorded a total of nine people.

Chen Ping'an took a deep breath, then silently recited a mantra, forming a sword gesture with two fingers, pointing at the Yama's Hall on the table. Using a ghost path command, he summoned the nine residual-soul yin spirits.

The room had already been pasted with talismans and arranged with formations, creating a stretch of yin underworld land suitable for ghosts to return to the yang world.

The three talismans were "Cloud Water House-Calming Talisman" from the "True Trace of the Cinnabar Book," with gold characters in the talisman's center for Master San Shan Jiu Hou.

And the "Cypress Locust Talisman," which could suppress if the house's qi was like smoke and ghost forms, and also summon, all depending on the intent of the person pasting it.

The last one was a "Peach Wood Nail Talisman" given and taught by the yin-yang cultivator. It could innately restrain the ferocious nature of ghosts and yin spirits, helping restore their clarity.

As for the formation that provided a "foothold" for weak yin spirits in the yang world, it was learned from Moon Hook Island's Earth Immortal Yu Gui. For this, Chen Ping'an had people help carry a huge stone from the bottom of the Book-Splitting Lake onto the shore, cut it into a stone slab, and engrave it with talismanic characters, embedding it into the ground as flooring. In addition, near the stone slab, under the ground, there was "Mandate Fortune Virtuous Earth" that Chen Ping'an had commissioned Qingxia Island cultivators to buy from other islands, filled in at various positions.

Every time Chen Ping'an called out a name and birthplace, a yin spirit would walk out of the Yama's Hall and stand on the stone slab that occupied half the room.

These nine yin spirits all came from the former mansions of Qingxia Island's chief honored guest and Gu Can's senior brother. They included bare-chested young women and laborers from the mansions.

Previously, as the temporary owner of the Yama's Hall, Chen Ping'an had used ghost path secret arts to inform all yin spirits and ghosts in every tiny room inside the pavilion: who he was, his relationship with Gu Can, why he was on Qingxia Island doing this, and how he would handle the future.

Now.

Nine yin spirits who had suffered violent deaths and then endured torment after death.

Some were angry, sorrowful, confused, grieving, hateful, suspicious, surprised, indifferent, fearful.

Chen Ping'an said slowly, "Do you have any dying wishes? Unfinished business you must see to? For yourselves, for your families, for your sects—tell me. I will try my best to fulfill your wishes."

On the table, besides the piled ledgers, there was the Sword-Nurturing Gourd for refreshment, and six "Fox Skin Beauty" talisman paper figures carefully crafted by the Qingfeng Paper Xu clan, allowing yin spirits to inhabit them and walk in the yang world unobstructed with the depicted female appearance.

Chen Ping'an paused for a moment. "If we trace back to the source, I do owe you. Because that little mud loach of Gu Can's was a gift from me. That's why I've found you one by one and am speaking with you now. On the other hand, I don't owe you anything, because our positions are here in this Book-Splitting Lake. Buddhist causality—I certainly have it, but it's not great. 'This life's suffering is the cause of previous lives'—that's the orthodox Buddhist teaching. According to Legalist philosophy, it has nothing to do with me. Following Daoist cultivation methods, one should sever the red dust, leave the mundane world, and seek the Dao in tranquility. That would be the proper way. But I don't think that's right. So I will do my utmost."

No one spoke first.

The living man and the dead ones fell into a long silence.

Regardless of their current emotions or mindsets, as those yin spirits looked at the young man sitting behind the desk, what they saw in the accountant varied. As if looking into a mirror.

Joy and sorrow shared.

A bare-chested young woman suddenly snarled, "I want you to pay with your life! Can you do that?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "Of course not."

She grinned hideously. "Then what kind of fake good person, hypocrite, are you?! You deserve to die! You and that bastard Gu Can should die together, ground to dust, scattered to the winds, with no place to be buried!"

Chen Ping'an looked at her.

Her face twisted with deep-seated hatred. She charged forward, but just as she was about to leave the stone slab, she slammed into an invisible barrier and flew back. She fell, then struggled up, came to that barrier, spreading her fingers, scratching madly at the invisible threshold with her nails. "I'm dead, and you'll die horribly too! Playing the hypocrite here—you deserve to die the most! Even more than that Gu Can bastard!"

Finally, she collapsed to the ground, sobbing.

Chen Ping'an stood up. On the stone slab, the other eight yin spirits almost simultaneously took a step back.

Chen Ping'an walked around the desk, came to the edge of the stone slab, and crouched down.

She raised her head. "I just didn't want to die! I wanted to live! Was that wrong?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "No."

He sat cross-legged and said softly, "Your name is Bai Licao, originally Bai Mei'er. You were a third-realm cultivator before death, from Bottle Lane, Gusu Prefecture, Stone-Hao Country. You had a childhood betrothal contract. At fourteen, a Qingxia Island Fishing House cultivator discovered you had cultivation aptitude and bought you from your parents for three hundred taels of silver. Your parents changed their minds at the last moment, wanting three hundred more, and the cultivator killed them both right in front of you. On Qingxia Island, the chief honored guest took a liking to you and made you a bare-chested young woman. You disliked the name Bai Mei'er, so you changed it to Bai Licao. For that, you paid an extra twelve Snow Flower Coins at the Incense Fire Hall. You finally died under the fangs of Gu Can's Flood Dragon attendant. Your corpse was beyond recognition. Your obsession was strong, so most of your three souls and seven spirits were preserved. Then the ghost cultivator Ma Yuanzhi of Vermillion String Mansion captured you and imprisoned you in the well, intending to train you into a ghost soldier. Then I brought you out of the well and into this Yama's Hall."

She wiped away her tears. "You can do whatever you want with me. But unless Gu Can dies, I will not rest in peace! In life and death, I will remember Gu Can..."

Her eyes grew firm. "And you! Aren't you all-powerful? Why not just scatter my soul? Then you won't have to see and be annoyed!"

Chen Ping'an shook his head.

He stood up.

Another yin spirit, also a former bare-chested young woman, timidly spoke. "Even if I have to remain in the world as a yin spirit, I'm willing. And in the future, can I avoid the pain of soul torment?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "Yes. If you have any other wishes, think of them and tell me."

She brightened up, her features gentle, and curtsied to Chen Ping'an.

A female yin spirit who had originally looked indifferent pointed at the Yama's Hall on the table. "I want to be reincarnated. I don't want to be imprisoned in this kind of place anymore. Can you do that?"

Chen Ping'an said, "Letting you go to reincarnation is not difficult. But I can't guarantee you will be reborn as a human, let alone whether you'll enjoy blessings in your next life. I can only promise that when the time comes, I will hold a Grand Daoist Universal Salvation Ritual and a Buddhist Water and Land Assembly for the yin spirits who make the same choice as you, to pray for your blessings. There are also some mountain rules to increase your fortune—I will do those too. For example, in your names, I will set up porridge stalls in the war-torn Stone-Hao Country to relieve refugees. There are plenty of things I can do."

She was taken aback, as if changing her mind. "Let me think again, okay?"

Chen Ping'an said, "Mm, of course."

She suddenly asked, "Do you know my name too?"

Chen Ping'an said softly, "Yes. I also know that the Spring Festival couplets on many less important places in your former mansion were written by you. I specifically looked for them. Unfortunately, at the now-renamed Spring Courtyard Mansion, they've all been replaced with new ones."

She suddenly wept.

Chen Ping'an said, "I'm sorry."

She said nothing, just cried.

One of the earliest, most terrified yin spirits, a middle-aged male servant who habitually stooped when speaking, said tremblingly, "Immortal Master, my name is Jia Gao. You don't need to remember it. I just want to be able to go burn incense at my parents' graves. But it's a bit far, not in Stone-Hao Country, but in Spring Flower Country, a vassal of Vermillion Flame Dynasty. If you find it troublesome, forget it. I only ask that the Immortal Master truly hold a Grand Universal Salvation Ritual and Water and Land Assembly, and help us accumulate some yin virtue, so we can reincarnate smoothly. Then I won't resent Gu Can."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "I know your place of origin. I will go to Spring Flower Country too. Then I will invite you out."

Jia Gao broke down in tears, bowed, and said, "The expenses for visiting the graves will be at the Immortal Master's expense. I can only repay you in the next life if I have the chance."

Chen Ping'an went back to get his Sword-Nurturing Gourd and took a large gulp. He returned and said, "Is that it? Is that all?"

The middle-aged male yin spirit wiped his face haphazardly. "That's enough!"

Chen Ping'an's lips moved, his expression tight. He said nothing.

Then another yin spirit, a strong middle-aged man, rubbed his hands and smiled obsequiously. "Immortal Master, I don't seek reincarnation, and I don't dare trouble you with any strenuous work. I just have one small wish that won't cost you a single Snow Flower Coin or distract you in the slightest."

Chen Ping'an narrowed his eyes, expressionless. "Zhao Shi, let's hear it."

That lesser steward of the former Spring Courtyard Mansion glanced at the few bare-chested young women yin spirits and grinned. "My only wish is to stay inside that immortal mansion of yours forever. And then, continue as I did in life: manage a few bare-chested young women under me. But now, I think a bit more—I want to visit their quarters, do... manly things. When I was alive, I could only steal glances, couldn't even feast my eyes. Today I beg the Immortal Master to show mercy. Is that okay? If not... then I really will die with my eyes open."

The first bare-chested young woman, Bai Licao, sneered coldly.

Chen Ping'an nodded and curled his lips. "Fine. Such a small matter."

The man bowed. "The Immortal Master is wise."

Chen Ping'an didn't need to check the ledger. Slowly, he said, "Zhao Shi, like your ancestors, you were born on Qingxia Island. You were a second-rank steward of Lantern Flower Mansion. Besides managing the food, clothing, housing, and salaries of a dozen bare-chested young women, you also had the opportunity to leave the Book-Splitting Lake twice a year to go to Stone-Hao Country and surrounding areas to recruit menial disciples for Qingxia Island's Lantern Flower Mansion. According to the secret archives of the Incense Fire Hall, there is only one notable deed in your life, your greatest achievement in your last life: in Cloud Tower City, you had a conflict with a female cultivator from elsewhere. Relying on Qingxia Island's name and connections, you asked local cultivators in Cloud Tower City to humiliate her to death and throw her body into the lake."

The man looked embarrassed. "You're making me look bad, Immortal Master."

Chen Ping'an stepped onto the stone slab in one stride, grabbed the yin spirit's neck, and said expressionlessly, "Making you look bad? I don't think it's funny."

The neck clenched in Chen Ping'an's five fingers, the yin spirit felt like being boiled in oil, wailing in agony. "Chen Ping'an! You went back on your word! I curse you..."

Chen Ping'an lifted his arm, holding the struggling yin spirit aloft. He didn't let it say another word. Slowly, he said, "I kept my word. In your next life, just be like you dealt with that young female cultivator traveling in Cloud Tower City—find a good womb yourself. Whether you get that chance after your soul is scattered, I don't care. Oh, by the way, do you remember that female cultivator's name? I do. Wei Qingyu."

The yin spirit in his hand disintegrated into nothing, scattering with a bang.

Chen Ping'an stepped off the stone slab, coughed a few times, and walked back behind the desk. He looked at the stone slab.

A male and a female yin spirit, one who had been secretly delighted and one who had been suspicious at first, for some reason began to kneel and kowtow.

An hour later.

Chen Ping'an opened the door and walked out of the house.

Zeng Ye was already standing at the door. When he saw him, he turned and said excitedly, "Mr. Chen, it's snowing! Heavy snow! The first big snowfall of the year in our Book-Splitting Lake."

But Zeng Ye quickly fell silent. He felt a bit embarrassed.

For a great cultivator like Mr. Chen,

did it matter whether it snowed in the human world, or how heavy it was?

Chen Ping'an looked up.

His hands tucked into his sleeves.

The snow fell vast and boundless.

But it was during the thaw that the weather was coldest. And after the snow melted, the roads would be muddy.