Chapter 443: The Cool Wind Fills the Belly

Chapter 443: The Cool Wind Fills the Belly

Chen Ping'an raised his head to look at the night sky, his gaze lingering for a long time without withdrawing.

He stood under the eaves, holding a charcoal basket in his hand.

Gu Can cried heart-wrenchingly, like a wounded young beast.

Even though Chen Ping'an had already turned his gaze back to Gu Can, he still did not speak, letting Gu Can wail there, his face covered in tears and snot.

Gu Can cried until his body began to convulse, cried until he had no strength left, then started sobbing. After gathering a bit of energy, he began to dry-heave again, as if all his spirit had been cried away.

Chen Ping'an asked slowly, "Why didn't you plead with me? Is it because you knew it would be useless? Unwilling to lose your last chance? Because by speaking up for Tanxue, I've settled accounts with Chunting Mansion, with your mother, and even with you, Gu Can. That last bit of lingering connection is gone too, isn't it? Is it that you've finally realized that even with Tanxue around, you might not be able to survive in Shujian Lake anymore? Replacing Tanxue with me, Chen Ping'an, as the gatekeeper of your Chunting Mansion—maybe you two could still live like before, just a little less freely, less able to tell me uprightly, 'I just like killing people'? But compared to one day being inexplicably killed by a cultivator you've never seen, with no enmity, just a casual slap that kills you all, and your whole family reuniting underground—isn't that still a profit?"

Gu Can simply refused to speak, nor did he wipe the snot and tears from his face. He just stared blankly at Chen Ping'an.

Chen Ping'an sighed, walked up to Gu Can, bent down, and handed him the charcoal basket.

He stepped into the snow, each step making a crunching sound.

Gu Can didn't take it.

Chen Ping'an crouched down, face to face, looking at Gu Can. "Little snot-nose, it's okay. Tell me the truth. I'm listening."

Gu Can grabbed a handful of snow, turned his head, and rubbed it on his face, then turned back, sobbing, "Chen Ping'an, you are the worst person!"

Chen Ping'an chuckled, hesitated for a moment, and said, "In your Shujian Lake, I really am a good person. If a good person isn't smart, then he's a bad person."

Gu Can's tears burst forth instantly. "Your Shujian Lake, your Chunting Mansion, your mother and son! Chen Ping'an, you always say things like that. Can't we not do this…"

Gu Can covered his face with the backs of his hands, sobbing.

Chen Ping'an said, "Go back."

Gu Can punched Chen Ping'an in the chest, sending him falling backward into the snow.

Gu Can stood up and staggered away.

After running more than ten paces, Gu Can stopped, didn't turn around, and said through sobs, "Chen Ping'an, you were always more important than Little Loach. But from now on, it's not like that. Even if Little Loach dies, it's better than you."

Chen Ping'an sat in the snow, gazing at Shujian Lake.

His heart was as still as water.

He stood up, shook the snowflakes off his cotton coat, and walked toward the ferry, waiting for Tan Yuanyi of Lisu Island to arrive. Given Liu Zhimao's swift and decisive style, he would surely send a flying sword message to Lisu Island as soon as he returned to Hengbo Mansion. But Chen Ping'an suddenly thought that this spy chief of Dali's Lübo Pavilion, stationed in the central part of Baoping Continent, would most likely not come by boat. Instead, he would have secretly infiltrated Qingxia Island after prior coordination with Liu Zhimao. So Chen Ping'an turned and went directly to Hengbo Mansion.

Chunting Mansion.

The woman, draped in a snow-white fox fur cloak, waited anxiously.

When she saw Gu Can's figure, she quickly ran over and asked, "How is it? Tanxue? Didn't she come back with you?"

Earlier, while they were making dumplings in the kitchen, Gu Can suddenly turned pale, fell to the ground, clutched his chest, and seemed to have fallen severely ill.

At that moment, the woman knew something was wrong. Most likely, Tanxue had run into trouble outside Chunting Mansion.

Gu Can looked up, dazed, and said, "Dead."

The woman was stunned, thinking she had misheard. "Can Can, what did you say?"

Gu Can repeated, "Dead."

The woman's face hardened. "Dead? Died just like that? Tanxue was a Nascent Soul-tier flood dragon! How could she die?! Besides that old bastard surnamed Liu from Gongliu Island, who else in Shujian Lake could kill Tanxue!"

Gu Can looked at his mother's face and said, "Chen Ping'an."

The woman shouted angrily, "What nonsense are you talking! How could Chen Ping'an kill Tanxue? What right does he have to kill Little Loach, who no longer belongs to him? Has he gone mad? That ungrateful little bastard! He should have starved to death in the Ni Ping Alley back then. I knew it—coming to our Qingxia Island this time, he had no good intentions. A cursed little wretch…"

Gu Can suddenly said, "Chen Ping'an might be able to hear you."

The woman immediately shut her mouth, panickedly looking around. Her face was as pale as the snow on the ground and the fox fur she wore.

Gu Can was silent.

The woman hugged him tightly, crying, "My poor child."

Gu Can's face was expressionless. His physique and soul were now extremely weak. After making the round trip between Chunting Mansion and the mountain gate through the snow, his hands and feet were already ice-cold.

---

Returning to Hengbo Mansion once again, Liu Zhimao hesitated for a moment, then let his trusted steward go invite Zhang Ye.

He also went to that secret little sword tomb, similar to a sword room, where a top-grade communication flying sword was treasured. He carefully weighed his words, then sent a message to Tan Yuanyi, the island master of Lisu Island.

Finally, Liu Zhimao came to the main hall covered with a special tapestry from the Colored Garment Kingdom. He waved his hand, scooping up a ball of water mist, and sprinkled it on the ground. A scroll painting appeared, showing the scene outside the mountain gate of Qingxia Island.

The heavy snow had stopped, so the scene seemed somewhat dead and silent.

Liu Zhimao lowered his head, staring at the image generated by the water mist.

Several times, he looked up toward the door.

Liu Zhimao smiled helplessly. Out of the nearly thousand cultivators on Qingxia Island, only one Zhang Ye dared to come after receiving Hengbo Mansion's summons. He would still stroll leisurely, never rushing to fly. As for whether Liu Zhimao, the island master, would feel resentful, Zhang Ye, this old fellow, never cared.

Liu Zhimao sighed.

Of the old brothers who fought side by side in the early days, almost all were dead—either on the battlefields of expansion, or from endless ambushes and assassinations, or because they were unruly and rebellious, killed by his own hand. Of course, most died of old age. In the end, only Zhang Ye remained, the last old comrade of Qingxia Island.

Liu Zhimao walked straight through the water-formation scroll painting to the main entrance. He hesitated, then stepped over the threshold and waited there for Zhang Ye.

Zhang Ye, as a Dragon Gate realm cultivator below the Earth Immortal level, could easily have become an island master himself in Shujian Lake, even without considering his friendship with Liu Zhimao. In fact, in the past two years, after Liu Zhimao used a strategy of "befriending distant islands while attacking nearby ones" to annex more than ten large islands, including Suling Island, he had intended to let Zhang Ye, this "dragon-supporting minister," choose a large island as his own domain. But Zhang Ye declined twice, so Liu Zhimao stopped insisting.

Back when both were in the Observing Ocean realm, Zhang Ye, who came from a lineage of registered masters, was not only Liu Zhimao's friend but also his behind-the-scenes strategist. It could be said that Qingxia Island's ability to weather crises time and again in its early days was due not only to Liu Zhimao's ruthless tactics—killing enemies root and branch, intimidating all competitors—but also to Zhang Ye's crucial strategies and decisions.

Liu Zhimao had always treated Zhang Ye with great courtesy, not only because of the hard-won camaraderie of those difficult years but also because after Qingxia Island had established itself, especially when Liu Zhimao's cultivation advanced step by step, leaving Zhang Ye far behind, Zhang Ye never hesitated to speak what he felt needed to be said. He simply forced himself to become an annoying, reckless court remonstrator, instead of a founding meritocrat who could rest on his laurels and enjoy life. Liu Zhimao had been furious with Zhang Ye for his complete disregard for appearances many times. Conquering a kingdom on horseback and ruling it on horseback—could the rules be the same? But Zhang Ye still went his own way. After Liu Zhimao reached the Nascent Soul realm, he grew increasingly distant from Zhang Ye, only letting him manage the Fishing and Secret Vault departments. He held a capital official's position but did a local official's job. Zhang Ye's unpopularity was obvious. So in recent years, it was hard to say his situation was difficult, but compared to later generations of glorious Qingxia Island figures like the offering scholar Yu Huai, Zhang Ye appeared less and less often in public. He did attend some victory banquets but never spoke. He neither flattered the River-Cutting True Lord nor poured cold water.

Thoughts flickered through his mind like a revolving lantern. Recalling these old matters, Liu Zhimao felt a rare, long-lost pang of emotion.

Finally, he came.

When Zhang Ye saw Liu Zhimao, he still walked neither fast nor slow.

Not only that, but he was even holding a solid snowball in his hand. This showed how leisurely Zhang Ye had been on his way, and how anxious the person who had gone to summon him must have been.

The Hengbo Mansion steward, also a Dragon Gate realm cultivator, had been quite frustrated on this trip to find Zhang Ye. But when he saw the True Lord standing outside the door, his heart trembled, and he instantly regretted urging Zhang Ye too many times. Fortunately, he hadn't complained, or he would likely have stumbled badly.

Liu Zhimao waved at the steward, gesturing for him not to approach the hall. The steward immediately bowed and left.

Zhang Ye cupped his fists in salute. "Greetings, Island Master."

Liu Zhimao smiled and pressed his hand down twice, signaling Zhang Ye not to stand on ceremony.

The two entered the threshold one after the other. Zhang Ye looked at the scroll painting suspended above the brocade tapestry but said nothing.

Liu Zhimao got straight to the point. "That year, you and the Fishing Department spent eight years to help me painstakingly find the reincarnation of that Golden Core female cultivator. At the time, you advised me that I could detain her on Qingxia Island but absolutely must not lay a hand on her. That way, when Liu Laocheng returned to Gongliu Island and we finally had a falling out, revealing this matter at the right time might save my life. I didn't believe you then, and we argued. You even said I was being softhearted and that my assessment of Liu Laocheng's character was ridiculous. Now, it seems you may not have been right, but I was definitely wrong."

Zhang Ye's face was expressionless. "It's rare for the Island Master to admit a mistake. I wonder if tomorrow morning, the sun will rise from the west."

Liu Zhimao pointed at this stubborn old man, laughing in exasperation. "With your bad temper and your foul mouth, if it were anyone else, I'd have killed them eight or ten times by now."

Zhang Ye said "Oh," then added, "Then I thank the Island Master for sparing my life."

Liu Zhimao was about to speak when he suddenly pointed at the scroll painting. "Watch closely."

In the painting, Gu Can knelt in the snow outside the door.

That accountant, after opening the door and saying those words, looked up, holding the charcoal basket in both hands, staring upward.

Liu Zhimao's expression was uncertain.

Zhang Ye said, "I suggest the Island Master dismiss it. But I reckon it won't make a damn difference."

Liu Zhimao first extended a finger, lightly tapped a certain spot on the painting, then waved his sleeve, truly dismissing the painting.

Liu Zhimao said, "What do you think of this Chen Ping'an?"

Zhang Ye thought for a moment. "Very frightening. If he were a wild cultivator in Shujian Lake, I suppose there wouldn't be much for the Island Master to do."

Liu Zhimao nodded. "Some secrets between him and me, I won't tell you. It's not that I don't trust you, but it might be better for you not to know. However, some harmless little matters can be told to you as amusement."

Zhang Ye no longer deliberately used words to needle Liu Zhimao.

Liu Zhimao's "little matters" were definitely not small.

So Liu Zhimao detailed his conversation with Chen Ping'an after leaving the mountain gate, how they had eaten the winter solstice dumplings at Chunting Mansion together, and then parted ways, each going about their own business.

Liu Zhimao said, "Why do you think Chen Ping'an deliberately brought me along, to scare that woman, and then gave me such a huge favor for free, insisting that the truth be hidden from her, letting me, Liu Zhimao, play the good guy?"

Zhang Ye thought for a moment and hit the nail on the head. "It's not complicated. From the moment Chen Ping'an moved out of Chunting Mansion, he was drawing a line with Gu Can's mother. But his method was relatively gentle, giving both sides a way out, avoiding too much conflict. At that time, the woman would mostly have felt relieved, not guessing Chen Ping'an's intentions. Later, Chen Ping'an occasionally went to Chunting Mansion for meals, just to reassure her. She gradually felt at ease, in a state of mind she considered most 'comfortable.' Chen Ping'an wouldn't abduct Gu Can or lead him astray into being some suicidal good person. And Chen Ping'an stayed on Qingxia Island, which was like an extra talisman for Chunting Mansion, like having an extra gatekeeper. Of course, she liked that. After that, Chen Ping'an visited Chunting Mansion less and less, and almost imperceptibly. Because this accountant was indeed very busy. So the woman became even happier. Until tonight, when Chen Ping'an brought you, Island Master, to sit at the Chunting Mansion dining table and eat dumplings. Only then did she belatedly realize that the two sides had become strangers."

After Zhang Ye said these words, which were almost the truth, he asked, "An outsider like me only had to pay a bit more attention to Chen Ping'an to see through this. So why did the Island Master need to ask? What, are you afraid that after sitting on the sidelines for so many years, my brain has rusted like that woman of Chunting Mansion who likes to call herself a lady of honor? Besides, even if my brain isn't enough, helping the Island Master manage the Secret Vault and Fishing departments is still barely sufficient, isn't it? Or do you think that since I hold the Secret Vault department, you're not at ease, afraid that when Qingxia Island's tree falls and the monkeys scatter, I'll pack up my bedding and slip away with a pile of treasures? Spit it out. Who are you planning to hand the Secret Vault department to? Don't worry, Island Master, I won't cling to my position. But if the candidate is unsuitable, I'll pour cold water on you one last time."

Liu Zhimao laughed and cursed, "Stop talking nonsense here!"

Zhang Ye said slowly, "Then what exactly are you after? It's not that I, Zhang Ye, look down on myself. In the current situation, I really can't help much. If you want me to be a dead soldier, I won't agree. Even though I know my life is short, I still have sixty years left. That's a whole lifetime for a mortal. Over the years, I've enjoyed good fortune and suffered plenty of hardships. I don't owe you or Qingxia Island a single thing."

Liu Zhimao didn't answer Zhang Ye's question. Instead, he sighed wistfully. "Tell me, if Shujian Lake were filled with people like Chen Ping'an, how would old bastards like us, who are cursed for our innumerable crimes on one hand and worshipped on the other, manage to get by? How could we thrive?"

Zhang Ye laughed. "Island Master, people like that are rare."

Liu Zhimao turned his head and looked at this Dragon Gate realm old cultivator, whose soul was decaying and drifting, for a long time.

Zhang Ye just kept silent.

Liu Zhimao said, "Zhang Ye, pick an auspicious day, and before the year ends—don't wait for spring—quietly leave Shujian Lake. Go far away, find some scenic place, and spend your last sixty years steadily and peacefully."

Zhang Ye frowned, puzzled. "Has the situation already deteriorated to this point?"

Liu Zhimao hesitated, then confessed, "For now, it's not actually the worst. But the world is unpredictable. The Dali Song clan taking over Shujian Lake is an inevitable trend. If one day Dali gets a twisted idea, or feels that Liu Laocheng has been given too large a share, and wants to make up for it with me, Qingxia Island will be dealt with after the fact. Then Dali can find some excuse to kill me, which would both please the people of Shujian Lake and net them the assets of over a dozen large islands. If I were the one in charge of Dali's affairs, I'd definitely do it. They might be sharpening their knives right now."

Liu Zhimao patted Zhang Ye on the shoulder. "I'm not trying to buy your loyalty. If you weren't Zhang Ye, just a middling Dragon Gate realm cultivator, you'd be nothing. Why would I need to be so nagging and long-winded? If I had this free time, wouldn't I be better off in seclusion practicing cultivation? If I accidentally break through to Jade Pure realm, damn it, let's see if Dali still dares to sharpen their knives or is willing to kill the donkey once it's done grinding. Another Jade Pure cultivator, Ruan Qiong—Dali Song clan practically worships him. And I'm just half a step away from being a Nascent Soul. Compared to Ruan Qiong, missing by half a realm really makes you want to die."

"Speaking of which, it was you who taught me how to win people's hearts back then."

Liu Zhimao withdrew his hand from Zhang Ye's shoulder, then straightened his collar for him, smiling. "I hope that among my old comrades, at least one will have a good end. It's just a small effort. Don't thank me, or that would be too distant."

Zhang Ye suddenly burst into curses. "You old bastard! If you really get beaten to death by Dali or Liu Laocheng one day, and I've run off to hide for sixty years, how will I catch up with you on the road to the Yellow Springs and keep you company?"

Zhang Ye shook his head, said softly, "I won't leave."

Liu Zhimao looked at this stubborn old fellow and said an off-topic remark, "You'd get along with our accountant. When you're smart, you're too smart to be a good person. When you're stubborn, you're like a fool who's got water in his brain."

Zhang Ye said, "Your state of mind is off right now. That's harmful for cultivation. On a journey of a hundred miles, you stop at ninety. If you let your energy drop now, you'll never raise it again in this life. How will you ever break through to the upper five realms? You've weathered so many storms. Don't you know by now that many of our opponents who died at our hands were only one breath short?"

Liu Zhimao exclaimed, "Oh my! Zhang Ye, impressive! Starting to lecture me again, and even daring to talk about cultivation with me! Do you really think we're still those two greenhorns in the Observing Ocean realm back then?"

Zhang Ye laughed. "When I broke through to the Cave Abode realm, I could be considered a greenhorn. But you, Liu Zhimao, were already not young. Well, you mountain-and-wilderness wild cultivators, who live like stray dogs foraging for food, have always had it much worse than us registered masters."

Liu Zhimao mocked, "After being a wild cultivator in Shujian Lake for so many years, you still prefer to call yourself a registered master?"

Zhang Ye murmured, "There's something I've kept in my heart and never told anyone. Since the day I followed that fellow named Liu Zhimao to Shujian Lake, I've desperately hoped to see him, as a wild cultivator, establish his own sect here one day. So over the years, I often visited a place—the earliest foothold Liu Zhimao and I had in Shujian Lake. A small island with the same name as Hengbo Mansion—Hengbo Island. A tiny patch of land. Later, it was destroyed directly by a Golden Core enemy, who at that time seemed invincible, using his natal magic treasure. That really pissed me off. Back then, carrying Liu Zhimao, who wasn't the least bit discouraged, on my back, I rowed a boat over there alone and wept silently. I wept, I suffered."

---

Chen Ping'an and Tan Yuanyi arrived at Hengbo Mansion almost simultaneously.

One in the open, one in the dark.

Liu Zhimao personally came out to lead the accountant, who was holding a charcoal basket, into a secret chamber. The walls and floor were actually made of snowflake coins, and there were only four straw mats placed in the room.

Tan Yuanyi, the island master of Lisu Island, was already sitting on one of the mats, meditating with eyes closed. When Liu Zhimao and Chen Ping'an entered side by side, he opened his eyes, stood up, and smiled. "Mr. Chen's great name thunders in my ears."

Chen Ping'an asked an abrupt question, "Regarding the recent situation in Shujian Lake, can your colleague in Lübo Pavilion, Li Baozhen, who is currently in Qingluan Kingdom, know about it?"

Tan Yuanyi said, "There are regular exchanges of key intelligence. If Mr. Chen does not wish to be mentioned too much in the intelligence reports, I can personally edit the wording."

Chen Ping'an naturally had to cup his fists in thanks.

Tan Yuanyi then said some polite words, like how Chen Ping'an was the mountain king of Longquan Commandery, a close friend of the Northern Peak True God Wei Bo, and that within Lübo Pavilion, everyone had long admired Chen Ping'an's name.

But in reality, Chen Ping'an felt neither joy nor gratitude. Instead, he began to worry about tonight's secret meeting.

The Dali bureaucracy, especially the spies stationed outside the Dali kingdom, valued rules and laws above all. Tan Yuanyi's so-called "editing" was a breach of protocol. If it were a wild cultivator of Shujian Lake, this could be interpreted as a gesture of goodwill and sincerity for doing business. But Chen Ping'an was someone who was extremely familiar with certain operational rules of Dali. After all, his former nemesis happened to be the original master of Lübo Pavilion—that palace lady who was the most powerful woman in the Dali kingdom. Since Tan Yuanyi dared to break the rules, even if only a little, it meant that he needed to quietly make up for it in dealing with Chen Ping'an. That was just part of doing business. Many friendships were ruined over money, turning into enmity. It wasn't always because the so-called friends were unscrupulous; the fault often lay in one's own "inability to see clearly." As for the order of priority and right and wrong, people often misjudge and harm others and themselves due to emotionalism, resulting in mutual loss.

The three of them sat down together.

One was a Dali spy chief, a dragon crossing the river.

One was a Nascent Soul cultivator of Shujian Lake, a local snake.

One was a native of Dali's Longquan Commandery and an accountant serving as an offering scholar on Qingxia Island, a passerby.

Chen Ping'an sat cross-legged, resting his hands on the charcoal basket, and asked directly, "Because of the upheaval at Laolong City, the Dali Song clan owes me gold essence copper coins. Does Island Master Tan know about this?"

Tan Yuanyi nodded. "This is top-tier confidential information within Lübo Pavilion. Among all the hidden spies and dead soldiers of Lübo Pavilion in the central part of Baoping Continent, only I have access to some general details. Since it's deliberately left vague in the Dali official documents, I still don't have the qualification to know the specifics."

Chen Ping'an asked again, "Are the Dali military, such as the two iron cavalry units that arrived at the border of the Zhu Ying Dynasty one after another, very dissatisfied with Island Master Tan?"

Tan Yuanyi's expression changed slightly.

Dali revered martial arts. This was true from the court to the martial world to the streets. The fierce folk customs were no empty saying, which is why Dali was mocked as "Northern barbarians" by the Baoping Continent.

The foundations of most of Dali's pillar-of-state surnames were in the military. They distributed and controlled various iron cavalry border armies that were adept at "old battles." No one could fully control a border army. Often, two or three great aristocratic clans held each other in check and formed alliances. Of course, there were also feuding clans like the Yuan and Cao families.

If not for the Dali National Master Cui Chan, Dali's civil officials would never have had their day. But even after the Embroidery Tiger had managed the court for a hundred years, last year there was still a major joke. The envoy of one of Dali's southern expeditionary cavalry armies went to the Ministry of Revenue in the capital demanding silver. The envoy's rank was lower than the Vice Minister of Revenue who received him. The Vice Minister personally attended to him. But of course, the Ministry of Revenue had to follow procedure: first complain about difficulties, then plead poverty, and finally spread their hands to say there was no money. If there was some connection in official circles, at most they would speak some heartfelt words about trying to find a way in private. If there was no connection, then it was "take it or leave it"—if you have the guts, come smash up the Ministry of Revenue.

That fellow who went to the Ministry of Revenue for silver had an ordinary relationship with the Ministry. After listening for a while and enduring as long as he could, he finally exploded. He slammed the table, glared, pointed at the Vice Minister's nose, and cursed him out thoroughly. He laid out the facts of his iron cavalry's achievements in destroying kingdoms along their southward march, one by one. Then he reported the numbers of casualties in each battle—which kingdom, which battlefield. According to National Master Cui Chan, this was "a warrior speaking civilized words that civil officials could understand." Finally, he demanded to know if the Vice Minister's conscience had been eaten by a dog, daring to hedge on military pay. He then revealed exactly how much silver the Ministry of Revenue still had in storage. The Vice Minister sighed and said, "You might as well come work for the Ministry of Revenue."

In the end, of course, the man returned loaded with goods, along with an unexpected bonus. The Vice Minister separately allocated a sum of money—not exactly an urgent need—to that iron cavalry force, which had deep-rooted connections in the capital.

But before the man could leave the capital with the good news, he was dragged back. Not only that, but the Vice Minister and his superior—the Minister, known as Dali's God of Wealth—were all gathered together.

At the head of the table sat the Embroidery Tiger, National Master Cui Chan.

At that time, Cui Chan was sipping tea and smiling. "That pittance of silver for our Dali's refugee-teaching scholars—you people in the Ministry of Revenue have the nerve to delay it? Aren't you also scholars yourselves? Vice Minister of Revenue Song Yan, if I remember correctly, you also started your education in a village school. Are you really willing to use your pen like that? Has Dali become so strapped for cash?"

Ignoring the trembling Vice Minister, Cui Chan turned to the white-haired but vigorous Minister of Revenue. "Lord Han, God of Wealth, Dali is so poor. Whose fault is it? Mine? Or yours?"

Unexpectedly, the old minister was unafraid. He pointed at Song Yan. "How would I dare blame the National Master? I'm old, but my lust for officialdom is even greater. Besides, our Ministry of Revenue isn't poor. There's plenty of silver. We just don't want to spend it recklessly. So it's not my fault. If anyone is to blame, it's Song Yan. From start to finish, our Ministry handled that sum exactly as the National Master required—not a copper coin more, not a copper coin less. But Song Yan messed up. A real man takes responsibility for his own actions. Come on, Song Yan, show some backbone as a Ministry of Revenue official."

The man from the border army who had come to ask for money widened his eyes. Damn, were the high officials of the six ministries really like this? Not much better than the rough guys from the border army.

It seemed that shameless people and shameless words were all the same under heaven.

Cui Chan took a sip of tea and smiled at the old minister. "Enough, stop beating around the bush trying to save your subordinate. Song Yan's mistake is not small, but he doesn't need to lose his official post. His evaluations have been decent. Just take three years of his salary and put it into that fund."

Song Yan, whose knees were weak, felt like he had been granted amnesty. "Your subordinate is willing to give ten years of salary…"

The old minister slapped his forehead. "What a fool—you're asking for death."

Cui Chan still wasn't angry. Tea in one hand, lid in the other, he waved at Song Yan. "That's not the proper way for an official. Go back, come to your senses, and have a good talk with the old minister about the art of officialdom. Don't keep thinking that your superior is only in the central government because of his ability to make money."

The old minister took the Vice Minister, who had survived the ordeal, and left the hall.

The two of them wiped sweat together. The old minister angrily kicked the Vice Minister's leg, muttering under his breath, "If I were thirty or forty years younger, I'd kick the shit out of you."

The Vice Minister smiled bitterly. Was this still the old minister who loved to spout classical phrases?

The man who had caused a ruckus at the Ministry of Revenue swallowed. He was smart enough to get silver from the Ministry. He imitated the old minister's shamelessness and said, "National Master, you can't kill me! I was just doing my duty."

Cui Chan nodded. "What you did was not wrong—in fact, it was very good. I will remember your name. Keep it up. You might go far. At the very least, you won't need to grit your teeth and buy a new set of clothes just to go to a ministry without losing face for the border army. After you leave here, go to the Ministry of Revenue and ask for that money. It's not silver you should have spent. It's what the civil officials of Dali owe you. As for the military funds you extracted from Song Yan, aside from the silver that should have gone to the teaching scholars, you can take the rest out of the capital."

The man looked utterly incredulous. "National Master, that's really all?"

As for how the National Master of Dali knew about such a trivial matter as him buying clothes, he couldn't bother to think about it now.

Cui Chan smiled. "Of course it's not all. This matter has distracted me, especially making me a little unhappy. Since I can't blame the errand boy, and Lord Han is too slippery to give me an excuse to make the Ministry of Revenue suffer, I'll have to take it out on your commanding general. On the way south, there are some accounts he could have either ignored or noticed. I plan to settle them with Su Gaoshan. Tell him: from the court's side, we'll deduct his merit for pacifying the Night Travel Kingdom. So the intended position of Patrol Envoy, which should have been his for the taking, is now uncertain. In the upcoming joint attack on the Zhu Ying Dynasty with Cao Ping, remember to put in more effort. If he can lead his army into the Zhu Ying capital first, it will be a great achievement. A woodcutter turned general like him—doesn't he like taking the dragon throne for firewood? I can promise him that throne today. As long as Su Gaoshan gets to see the high walls of the capital first, that most valuable chair in central Baoping Continent will be his firewood. And the flames from that chair might give his fire serpent a chance to break through to Golden Core."

The border army soldier's face turned ugly.

This was clearly forcing General Su to fight desperately into the enemy's heartland.

Cui Chan put down his teacup. "I still have things to attend to, and so do you. I won't invite you for tea. One or two cups won't calm your urgent nature anyway."

The man wanted to speak but hesitated. Finally, he gave up trying to negotiate with the National Master. He dared to make a scene at the Ministry of Revenue because the situation forced him to, but here it was meaningless.

Before leaving, he mustered his courage and said, "National Master, could you spare a moment? Let me say one thing. Just one sentence."

Cui Chan smiled. "That's two sentences now."

The man grinned frankly. "I used to hear that big shots in the court liked to talk in riddles, leaving people to guess. The National Master's talk is also roundabout, but not too roundabout. Although today's matter has annoyed the National Master, to be honest, I feel quite pleased."

Cui Chan waved his hand. "You can boast about this later, but don't go overboard. Don't go telling people that you and I, Cui Chan, have toasted each other as brothers."

The man sincerely cupped his fists. "The National Master is truly a divine being."

It was hard to imagine.

That trivial matter at the end of last year, when a border army soldier went to the Ministry of Revenue to ask for silver—an event with no connection to Shujian Lake—would ultimately directly affect the fate and great trends of tens of thousands of wild cultivators in Shujian Lake.

The main general of a Dali iron cavalry unit, Su Gaoshan, had spent an entire year from last year to the end of this year with only one feeling: he had no money, he was short of money.

Especially after driving straight into the middle of the Stone Millimeter Kingdom, a vassal of the Zhu Ying Dynasty, capturing it without difficulty, but then weighing the forces of that pretty boy Cao Ping, Su Gaoshan was worried. It seemed the pretty boy had a better chance of being the first to breach the Zhu Ying capital and claim the main merit.

A man couldn't be held back by a lack of urine, especially a high-ranking general like Su Gaoshan. So within all the rules, he needed silver and divine money.

So he set his sights on Shujian Lake, south of the Stone Millimeter Kingdom.

He personally sent someone to Chishui City for a meeting with Tan Yuanyi of Lisu Island.

He, Su Gaoshan, didn't care whether it was Liu Zhimao or Ma Zhimao who became the alliance leader of Shujian Lake. He didn't care. As long as they paid up, and paid enough, he could speed up his southward charge and support those people. As for those wild cultivators who were like rats in the gutter, if they didn't submit, perfect. Su Gaoshan had already flattened over forty mountain strongholds of registered masters on his southward campaign, not to mention wild cultivator Earth Immortals. Under his command, not counting the Dali-assigned martial secretary officers, there were already two hundred cultivators he had recruited along the way. And that was just the ones he deemed worthy. Otherwise, the number would have exceeded a thousand. Besides, if he planned a major mountain battle, behind his army, there were those whose kingdoms he had destroyed or whose vassal status Dali had recognized. They would bow and scrape, sending three to four hundred registered masters and cave-dwelling cultivators to rush over on clouds and mists and obediently support Shujian Lake. At least that many.

Moreover, among the army, there were giant sword boats specially designed for dealing with mountain-top cultivators. These were massive constructs built by Mohist craftsmen. Each time they ascended and fired, thousands of flying swords rained down.

But they cost money—lots of divine money. Every time he used one, Su Gaoshan felt as if his heart was being carved out.

Whenever he heard his civilian advisors calculating losses and telling him that using the sword boats was not worth it, clattering their abacuses, and finally reporting how many Small Heat Coins he had lost, Su Gaoshan wished he could tear down the old beams from the sect halls of those destroyed sects and sell them for money. Then he would send people to dig three feet deep and scour them again. If they could find a secret treasure vault, maybe they could break even or even turn a profit. Such things had happened on the southward campaign more than once. Those old mountain cultivators were all like rats digging holes—the deeper, the better.

Thinking of the accumulated wealth of so many wild cultivators in Shujian Lake over hundreds of years, Su Gaoshan almost had the nerve to go to that pretty boy Cao Ping and borrow a few more sword boats.

And Su Gaoshan, bearing Dali's momentum and being a powerful general with heavy troops, liked things simple.

But for Tan Yuanyi of Lisu Island, a spy master accustomed to calculating gains and losses on the edge of a blade, running into Su Gaoshan—a real power-holding general, one of the top ten in Dali's border armies, a future Patrol Envoy—was both happy and troublesome.

The surpluses of Lisu Island over the years, plus the divine money earned earlier from Qingzhong and Tianmu Islands, were but a drop in the bucket compared to the military expenses of that rapidly expanding iron cavalry.

Su Gaoshan couldn't sustain his war-by-war approach anymore. Because on the southward campaign, besides the thunderous hooves of Dali's iron cavalry, there were also Dali's overseers and a group of civil officials responsible for cleaning up. The latter tried their best to prevent the military from over-plundering the defeated lands. Among them, National Master Cui Chan had long established an almost meticulous set of rules. Whether the border generals and marshals liked to read them or not, didn't matter. They had advisors to explain. And if they violated the rules, they had to pay. They could offset mistakes with military merits. As long as the merits were sufficient, if they encountered a stubborn city that refused to surrender and suffered heavy casualties, the main general could even order a massacre upon finally breaching the walls. They could kill not just the two-legged humans but even the pigs and dogs, leaving nothing behind. But such vengeful acts, which violated the "Southern Expedition Regulations" booklet, would at most be advised against by the Dali army overseers and the civil officials who stayed behind. They wouldn't try to stop it to the death, nor would they impeach. Because this situation was also within the National Master's rules. You just had to take out that booklet, flip through it, calculate the merits earned from killing enemies along the way and the merit from breaching the city, and see if they were enough to offset the cost of the massacre. If they were enough, and you were willing to have your merits erased and to forgo the prestigious new post of "Patrol Envoy," then go ahead. The Dali court would definitely not settle accounts with you later.

But if the military merits were insufficient and you still dared to massacre or bury alive defeated soldiers and captives, it was simpler: you'd be beheaded. The overseer could directly order all martial secretary officers in the army, even those close to the main general, to obey the token given by the National Master to the overseer, and execute the main general who ordered the massacre on the spot. Then his head would be circulated among Dali's border armies. One head wasn't enough. The family back in Dali would help make up for the deficit until it was enough. If they were all killed and it still wasn't enough, no problem. The National Master said, consider it as Dali's special grace for your years of military service, an exception beyond the law.

But if Liu Laocheng hadn't appeared.

This deal would have been a win-win for all four parties: Tan Yuanyi, Liu Zhimao, General Su Gaoshan, and Dali.

But then Liu Laocheng showed up, someone who hadn't been seen on Gongliu Island in two hundred years.

So Liu Laocheng, that shit-stirring stick, caused Liu Zhimao to lose control of Shujian Lake overnight. And Tan Yuanyi's fate was no better than Gu Can's or that beast's on Qingxia Island—all of them were victims of an undeserved calamity.

At this moment, Liu Zhimao sat with his eyes closed, like an old monk in meditation.

Chen Ping'an slightly raised his hand and rubbed his palms. "Island Master Tan, what is your relationship with Su Gaoshan, the Dali main general attacking the Stone Millimeter Kingdom?"

Tan Yuanyi spoke frankly. "The relationship is very average. What Su Gaoshan wants is the tribute money and life-money from the thousand islands of Shujian Lake. If we can't produce it, he could turn hostile at any moment. Even I, half a family member, cannot be an exception. Although military generals cannot interfere in Lübo Pavilion's affairs, there are over a dozen spies like me within Lübo Pavilion alone. Not to mention the similarly functioning Niuma Corral and the Bronze Figurine Dew Platform, both no less capable than Lübo Pavilion."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "What's worse is that Lübo Pavilion was originally built by that palace lady. Although it has now become the National Master's foster son, it's not his biological son. The worst of all is that another spy who has reached the same high position as Island Master Tan within Lübo Pavilion—Li Baozhen—is destined for a smoother path of promotion. So old ministers like Island Master Tan, who have deep experience in Lübo Pavilion from the previous reign, have a harder time."

Tan Yuanyi smiled. "Regarding Niuma Corral and Lübo Pavilion, the National Master will not show favoritism."

Chen Ping'an hit the nail on the head. "Of course he won't show favoritism between Niuma Corral and Lübo Pavilion. But when it comes to each individual within Lübo Pavilion—those old confidants promoted by that palace lady—will he show favoritism? Perhaps the National Master is magnanimous and won't. Perhaps he isn't so generous and will. Perhaps in these chaotic times, he uses talent without prejudice, but when peace comes, he might not. Perhaps he accepts letters of allegiance separating from the palace lady today, but tomorrow, due to some not-so-smart person's implication, disaster falls. It seems all possibilities exist."

Tan Yuanyi sighed and didn't refute.

Liu Zhimao still maintained an aloof, detached demeanor.

Chen Ping'an sighed inwardly as well.

On Tan Yuanyi's side, whether he could untie the dead knot mattered, but not much.

Even so, even though he knew the outcome wouldn't be satisfactory, tonight's meeting was still a necessary step.

Chen Ping'an needed, through all the subtle details revealed by Tan Yuanyi, to confirm his suspicions, then aggregate and distinguish the seemingly vague but traceable general trend.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "The situation isn't great, but adversity breeds friendship. Island Master Tan, Island Master Liu, how about we become allies in sincere cooperation? Let's start discussing the details and steps? The three of us check each other's gaps and shortcomings?"

Tan Yuanyi straightened up slightly and said solemnly, "If Mr. Chen is willing to throw a peach, Tan Yuanyi will certainly repay with a plum."

Liu Zhimao even spoke up, laughing, "Excellent!"

---

Late at night.

Chen Ping'an left Hengbo Mansion alone and returned to the mountain gate of Qingxia Island. He placed the charcoal basket, whose fire had already gone out, back in the room, hung up the Sword Nurturing Gourd, changed into the dharma robe Golden Li, put a thick blue cotton coat over it, pulled the Sword Immortal from the door, sheathed it on his back, and walked straight to the ferry. He untied the small ferryboat's rope and headed for Gongliu Island.

The water route was distant.

But Chen Ping'an was not anxious. He poled and rowed, the ferryboat shooting like an arrow, cutting through the water.

Shujian Lake was vast beyond measure. Even though the ferryboat sped like a bird in flight, by dawn, there was still no sign of Gongliu Island.

Heavy snow, birds vanished.

Chen Ping'an rested for a moment. He stopped the boat in the middle of the lake, took out a chopstick, placed a white bowl, and gently tapped. Ding-ding-dong-dong.

He listened attentively.

He looked like a beggar on the street, but also like a young immortal who had retired to the mountains, a solitary cloud and wild crane.

Chen Ping'an amused himself like this for the time it takes an incense stick to burn. Then he put the bowl and chopstick back into his Summoned Object.

Chen Ping'an rubbed his cheeks and took a deep breath.

The cool wind fills the belly!