Chapter 446: Snow and Wind, How Fitting

Chapter 446: Snow and Wind, How Fitting

(My apologies for making you wait so long~)

When the snow melts, it is especially bitter cold.

Either the main roads are muddy, or the secluded paths are thick with snow, crunching underfoot.

Moreover, according to the calculations of several earth immortal cultivators from the Writing Bamboo Lake region, at the end of this year, a vast expanse of the Writing Bamboo Lake area would see an even greater snowfall. By then, besides the lake itself, that once-in-a-century heavy snow would also encompass several tributary states of the Zhu Ying Dynasty, including the Country of Stone Hair. The cultivators of Writing Bamboo Lake were naturally pleased by this prospect, but the tributary states would likely suffer. It remained unknown whether these three great snows after winter's start would invisibly slow the southward advance of the Great Li Iron Cavalry, buying more breathing room for the Zhu Ying Dynasty, which had adopted a scorched-earth strategy for the first time since its founding.

But these grand trends of the world seemed to have little connection to the daily life of cultivators with stable mountain headquarters. After all, the "world" itself was divided into the upper mountain and the lower foothills.

Inside the main hall of the Spirit Official Temple, Zeng Ye had gone to gather firewood nearby and lit a bonfire.

Chen Ping'an was still dressed in a thick cotton robe, no different from when he was on Green Gorge Island. However, he no longer carried a sword on his back. Instead, he wore on one side of his waist a self-made bamboo knife and a large imitation Canal Yellow Sword purchased from Ape Cry Street in Serene Water City, arranged in the "blade and sword crisscross" style that Pei Qian had "originated."

The two ate dry rations. This journey was Zeng Ye's first time leaving home, so compared to the taciturn Chen Ping'an, the young man with a boyish heart couldn't help but feel a bit excited. Even just passing through a checkpoint and presenting the sect registry issued by Green Gorge Island's Ancestral Hall to the border soldiers of the Country of Stone Hair felt fresh to Zeng Ye. But he dared not show it—Chen Ping'an was clearly burdened with worries, and Zeng Ye was not blind to these nuances of human sentiment.

The two exchanged almost no words.

After eating, Chen Ping'an spread out a topographical map of the prefectures and counties of the Country of Stone Hair. Currently, the southern part of the country was still relatively stable, with only sparse patrols of Great Li Iron Cavalry scouts. Chen Ping'an and Zeng Ye had seen them twice. But even the south, not yet touched by war, showed signs of chaos. The Spirit Official Temple they were in now was an example.

It was an old, dilapidated Spirit Official Temple in need of repair. According to locals, the old temple keeper who managed the incense offerings had died early this autumn. The county yamen should have appointed a new keeper, but with the coming of the Great Li barbarians, the world was in turmoil, and such trivial matters were neglected. After all, the common folk were fleeing, and the court wouldn't blame them for returning to their hometowns later. But a temple keeper position, though as insignificant as a chicken rib, carried the same responsibility of "guarding the land" as a county magistrate. So even though the county yamen had made a big concession and privately told the two candidates they wouldn't need to spend their own money to curry favor with the lofty Daoist masters, neither was willing to take the post. Thus, it was delayed again and again. By the time the Great Li barbarians, who had already besieged the capital of the Country of Stone Hair, freed up their hands and moved south, this Spirit Official Temple, already with scant incense, would likely have no incense at all next year.

In chaotic times.

The common folk could barely take care of themselves, let alone go to temples to burn incense. Only after they had enough to eat would they worry about whether the clay gods were fed—this was only human nature.

Chen Ping'an handed the bamboo box to Zeng Ye to carry. Inside was the ghostly treasure "Nether Prison" of Yama Hall, acquired on credit from Green Gorge Island's secret treasury.

As for Yu Gui later visiting Green Gorge Island and willingly selling him the high-grade spiritual artifact modeled after the Glazed Pavilion, Chen Ping'an had temporarily stored it in his Proximity Tool. The twelve rooms, capable of nurturing ghost generals, were now all occupied by yin spirits with relatively full and complete souls. Except for one room, the other eleven yin ghosts were cultivators who had died at the hands of Tan Snow while still at the middle five realms. They carried heavier resentment and deeper obsessions.

Zeng Ye, though mediocre in cultivation aptitude and somewhat dull in temperament, was a diligent and observant tall youth. Since leaving Writing Bamboo Lake and heading north, he had done quite a lot of work.

But Chen Ping'an was not the type to be accustomed to a life of luxury as a registered immortal master, and he didn't require Zeng Ye to serve him. So the two, like master and apprentice without the formal title, traveled together harmoniously and naturally. This time, entering the Country of Stone Hair required visiting forty different places, spanning eight prefectures and over twenty commanderies. What troubled Zeng Ye was that half of these places were in the northern part of the country, where war raged and they might have to deal with the Great Li barbarians. But thinking that Chen Ping'an was a divine immortal, Zeng Ye felt somewhat relieved. Having been taken to Writing Bamboo Lake as a poor child and growing up on Maoyue Island, he had never traveled with his sect's elders before. He didn't know what it meant to be a "mountain immortal master," and he still felt a hint of innate fear toward imperial courts and armies.

It seemed naive, but in Chen Ping'an's view, this was correct. If they encountered that unfamiliar iron cavalry from the distant north and mistook them for ordinary troops from the central part of Vase Bottle Continent, a conflict would arise. Not just Zeng Ye, a cultivator below the fifth realm, but even a Golden Core earth immortal, who held a position second only to the ruler in the Country of Stone Hair, would face defeat at the hands of the Great Li Iron Cavalry—perhaps even death.

On this matter, Chen Ping'an didn't deliberately warn Zeng Ye. Many seemingly simple truths must be experienced firsthand to be deeply understood, or at least heard and seen.

Zeng Ye began his cultivation, using the immortal technique Chen Ping'an had taught him, breathing and circulating energy. Diligence could compensate for lack of talent. The poorer one's background as a rogue cultivator, the more one would cherish this hard-won opportunity.

Chen Ping'an now found it difficult to refine his mind, and his physical cultivation naturally stagnated. This was true for his fist techniques, sword arts, and spiritual energy absorption.

Chen Ping'an stood up, stepped over the threshold, and came outside the main hall of the Spirit Official Temple, frowning slightly.

There was a widely circulated folk saying: "One person should not stay in a temple; two people should not look at a well."

Common folk might not truly understand its mystery, but cultivators felt it more deeply.

When a person's inner dwelling had good thoughts scattering like monkeys fleeing a falling tree, bad thoughts and evil intentions would pour in—and vice versa.

The same applied to temples and monasteries that once prospered with incense. Originally places where gods held sway and ghosts feared, once incense dwindled and spiritual energy dispersed, they became more likely to attract covetous and prying yin spirits.

Many scholars' notes recorded bizarre incidents in ruined temples—this was the reason.

Between the countries of Colorful Garments and Comb Water, Chen Ping'an had once encountered a fox spirit in a dilapidated temple.

That time, there was both meeting and parting.

Chen Ping'an lowered his head, cupped his hands, and exhaled a puff of white mist. He rubbed his palms together for warmth, thought for a moment, then closed the door to avoid disturbing Zeng Ye's cultivation.

Zeng Ye had a pure heart, but on the path of cultivation, he lacked resilience and was easily distracted. If his refining of spiritual energy and nurturing of qi mansions were interrupted tonight just after starting, he would have to begin all over again. Once or twice was fine, but if it happened repeatedly and formed an unnoticed mental habit, it would be a big problem. Human laziness and greed were often like this—seemingly arising silently and naturally, but in the eyes of others, the signs were already visible.

So in the early stages of Zeng Ye's cultivation, Chen Ping'an had to be extra attentive and look after the youth.

Though not his master, he was quite like a guardian of the path.

Thinking this, Chen Ping'an gave a wry smile.

He didn't feel heavy-hearted but instead relaxed a little, probably because he recalled some past happy events. Unconsciously, his brow smoothed. He smiled and said, "Come out. I know you're there. This Spirit Official Temple, due to its dwindling incense, has long had one of its golden-body avatar manifestations sleeping in seclusion. The Spirit Official Lord has only a trace of divine nature left, not enough to manifest and protect the region's fortune. But you two have no enmity, water from the well not interfering with river water—that's better than making enemies for no reason. If you run into a Spirit Official Lord with a bad temper, he might consume his divine nature and shatter his golden body just to kill you. You can eat the remnants of incense outside the main hall. I believe the Spirit Official Lord behind me might not necessarily be angered. The difference between yin and yang—ordinary people often like yang and dislike yin, but Daoist Spirit Officials are not necessarily the same. Your survival after death is already heaven's will and a stroke of fate. So you can linger around the main hall, helping yourselves maintain a spark of spirit, but don't enter the main hall."

Chen Ping'an spoke patiently and carefully, because many yin spirits—clinging to resentment, hatred, or obsession after death—were dazed and confused, their understanding of the world no greater than when they were alive, perhaps even less than a lower-realm rogue cultivator like Zeng Ye.

In Chen Ping'an's eyes, near the back door of the front hall, several yin spirits were hiding. The yin wind was faint, not strong. During this harsh winter, ordinary people with sufficient yang energy—like strong young men—standing where Chen Ping'an was, might not clearly feel the yin-sha emanating from those spirits. But those with weak yang energy, prone to disaster, might fall prey. Yin energy invading the body could easily cause illness, leading to a lingering death. Local folk doctors' qi-tonifying medicines might not work, as they only treated symptoms, not the root cause. The patient's spirit had been injured, and some shamanistic folk methods of summoning the soul and calming the mind might actually be effective.

Whether out of fear of Chen Ping'an or because his reasoning made sense, the yin spirits gradually retreated, abandoning their plan to enter the main hall.

Since they stopped, Chen Ping'an said no more and did nothing.

The first place they were going on this trip was a small mountain sect in the Country of Stone Hair. When female yin spirits appeared and walked in the yang world, Chen Ping'an often asked their opinion. They could temporarily reside in Zeng Ye's body, or if they found that awkward, they could temporarily lodge in one of Chen Ping'an's fox-fur beauty talisman papers from Clear Wind City's Xu Clan. The talisman women with attractive appearances could be kept in the Proximity Tool or in Chen Ping'an's sleeve during the day, and at night they could manifest and travel with Chen Ping'an and Zeng Ye.

There were twelve fox-fur beauty talisman papers, like inns, all currently occupied by spirits who were originally from the Country of Stone Hair. So when night fell and no one was around, Chen Ping'an would take out the talismans, allowing them to reside in them. But he needed to spend some Snowflower Coins; otherwise, the talismans would "close their doors," preventing them from returning to the yang world and seeing the beautiful, yet harmless, snowy scenery.

On ordinary nights, around Chen Ping'an and Zeng Ye, there would be a cacophony of chirping and chattering, quite lively. Among the twelve talismans, even those female yin spirits who were not fond of communication, after traveling together for so long, had made one or two close friends. They huddled together, chatting about boudoir topics. As for the Great Way and cultivation, they no longer spoke a word—saying more would only bring sorrow.

As for why they didn't appear tonight, it was because Chen Ping'an had asked them to return to the talismans. They were staying at a Spirit Official Temple, and when in Rome, they should do as the Romans do—not offend these temples. A few bolder female yin spirits had teased and complained to Chen Ping'an, saying that these rules were for common folk. Chen Ping'an, as an immortal offering master of Green Gorge Island, didn't need to care. If the Spirit Official Lord's spirit dared to step out of the clay statue, Chen Ping'an could just beat it back. But Chen Ping'an insisted, so they obediently returned to the Xu Clan's finely crafted fox-fur talismans.

Now, standing in the corridor, Chen Ping'an could see behind him, in the main hall, a Spirit Official Lord with a red face and long beard, clad in yellow robes and golden armor, holding an iron whip, standing on one leg like a golden rooster, majestic.

Legend said he was one of the more than two hundred orthodox Spirit Officials recorded in Daoist annals.

There was also a very obscure rumor that had spread in the Haoran World over the past century, only known to high-realm cultivators of the fifth realm and above, and earth immortals like Liu Zhimao.

It was said that one of the three Daoist patriarchs who presided over the White Jade Capital in the previous session, known as the Daoist Number Two with the reputation of "truly invincible," proposed that among the five hundred ranks of Daoist Spirit Officials, everyone in the three worlds—even if not originally a Daoist disciple, whether from the other two religions or from the hundred schools of thought—had a chance. If they accumulated enough merit and fortune, they could be placed among the Spirit Officials and enjoy endless incense offerings in one of the five cities of the White Jade Capital, the Spirit Official Hall.

This meant that beyond the more than two hundred already "listed among the immortals," half the positions were vacant. A mandate of heaven, waiting for the worthy.

Chen Ping'an walked down the steps, made a snowball, and compacted it with his hands. He didn't go to the front hall but wandered in the courtyard between the two halls.

This was also a case of "well water not interfering with river water."

Chen Ping'an thought about some matters.

Southern Bodhi Continent, Tongye Continent, and Fuyao Continent—the three continents closest to Inverted Suspension Mountain—were seeing the emergence of heavy treasures, with heroes contending. Du Mao's failed ascension and the scattering of his glazed golden body fragments had triggered competition among many high-realm cultivators of Vase Bottle Continent.

Then there was the theory of the five hundred Spirit Official positions.

This was the true grand trend of the world.

Chen Ping'an had personally experienced the chaos in Tongye Continent, suffering some collateral damage. Though his life wasn't in danger, he was badly schemed against by that "young Daoist" of Taiping Mountain who handed out a jade token from the Ancestral Hall.

As a result, Zhong Kui had turned into a ghost and lost his status as a nobleman of the academy.

The path of the Great Way was fraught with peril, but also full of mystery. Risk and opportunity coexisted. Whether one could fish in troubled waters, profit, or even strike it rich overnight—far surpassing centuries of accumulation—or suffer damage to one's path and never recover, ultimately depended on the cultivator's own skill. Under the sweeping trend, Zhong Kui of Taiping Mountain and Du Mao of Tongye Sect were the same; it did not distinguish between good and evil.

Knowing these things might not be useful, but understanding the context was certainly better than being kept in the dark all along.

Because this trip would take them through various prefectures and counties north and south of the Country of Stone Hair, Chen Ping'an had already learned a great deal about the country's court, rivers and lakes, and local customs while on Green Gorge Island.

The Country of Stone Hair revered Daoism and honored a Daoist rogue immortal as the national preceptor. By "rogue immortal," it meant a Daoist outside the four main lineages. Among the three lineages under the Dao Ancestor, the Daoist robes also differed, but the head crowns were the easiest to distinguish: hibiscus crown, fish-tail crown, and lotus crown. The rank of a Daoist within the Daoist hierarchy also had many subtle distinctions regarding the crown. Additionally, there was the Dragon Tiger Mountain lineage of the Central Earth Continent, which represented the native Daoist power of the Haoran World.

It was said that during this blocking of the northern barbarian Great Li Iron Cavalry's southward advance, the protector immortal had summoned wind and rain at the front, used beans to create soldiers, and protected the capital from falling—a great merit.

Besides these tidbits from the Willow Floss Island immortal gazette, Chen Ping'an had also specially set up a banquet in Serene Water City, taking the opportunity to host two of Gu Can's brothers: Han Jingling, a prince of the Country of Stone Hair who had fled there nearly a year ago, and Huang He, the son of a border general of the Country of Stone Hair.

Chen Ping'an asked many questions, but kept the conversation light and polite.

Han Jingling, a prince of the Country of Stone Hair and one of the current emperor's legitimate sons, was of true royal blood. He had left the capital to govern his fief for many years, but before the war even began, he found an excuse to leave his princely domain and quickly flee south. His character wasn't hard to guess. However, the situation was unpredictable. The Great Li Iron Cavalry's southward advance left a trail of devastation in the stubborn northern regions of the Country of Stone Hair. But Han Jingling's domain, lacking leadership, actually escaped unscathed—no war disasters occurred. Within his domain, Han Jingling inexplicably gained a reputation as a "wise prince." But Chen Ping'an knew this was mostly the work of his advisors, the dragon-supporting ministers, who were devising strategies.

When Han Jingling faced the famous accountant of Green Gorge Island, he naturally spoke without reservation, eager to bare his heart and lungs for the renowned Mr. Chen of Writing Bamboo Lake to see. Huang He, the son of the great general of the Country of Stone Hair, had previously left Writing Bamboo Lake to join his father, who had defected to the Great Li Iron Cavalry, to plan the establishment of Han Jingling as the new emperor of the Country of Stone Hair. It was said they had already met with Su Gaoshan, so Huang He had returned to Serene Water City in Writing Bamboo Lake to bring Han Jingling good news.

Chen Ping'an didn't give them the chance to call him brother, and of course, Han Jingling and Huang He didn't dare. But there was a subtle difference in their natures. The former was a fallen man with low spirits; whether he would regret his groveling at the banquet in Serene Water City after successfully becoming the new emperor was something he probably hadn't yet considered. Chen Ping'an didn't care. As for the latter, facing Chen Ping'an, Huang He maintained a seemingly more humble demeanor than Han Jingling, but hidden beneath it was a mind like a bowstring gradually tightening. Because the Great Li general Su Gaoshan, that towering mountain, had given their border army Huang clan a great reassurance. Once they truly secured that backing, not only the once-arrogant little devil Gu Can, but even Chen Ping'an, might have to treat Huang He with courtesy when they met again.

These subtle stirrings in people's hearts, Chen Ping'an silently observed.

As for the Willow Floss Island gazette, the emperor of the Country of Stone Hair had issued an edict proclaiming to the court that Huang He's father, who had been granted the title "Loyal and Righteous Marquis" by the previous emperor, was now condemned with the eight words "arrogant and insubordinate, indulging troops to harm the people."

Huang He, who had been quiet throughout the banquet, only mentioning this matter with a slightly proud expression and a full smile, said that upon hearing the edict, his father was not angered at all, only uttering the four words "flustered and exasperated."

At that time, Chen Ping'an looked at the youthful, exuberant face, drank a cup of wine alone, and saw that when he raised his cup, Han Jingling quickly called Huang He to join in a toast.

There was a hint of "joint celebration."

It made Chen Ping'an laugh and cry.

On such a drinking table, there were so many of these lessons that even the best wine had no flavor.

After that banquet, where the host and guests seemed delighted and the conversation flowed joyfully, Chen Ping'an returned alone to Green Gorge Island, gaining a new level of respect for the Great Li general Su Gaoshan. The last time was because of Tan Yuanyi's loss of composure on Granule Island.

Chen Ping'an snapped back to reality.

It turned out that at the front hall, a tall yin spirit clad in armor had appeared. In life, he might have been a military commander with an official rank.

This yin spirit walked out of the front hall, stepped over the threshold with his left foot, and clasped his fists, saying, "Esteemed immortal master, earlier my subordinates and I committed an offense, nearly disturbing the Spirit Official Lord in the main hall. Thank you for the reminder, which saved me a lot of trouble."

Speaking thus, the commander yin spirit, with a pallid face, gave a bitter smile, withdrew his hands, and habitually reached for the long knife at his waist.

The armor and the knife were the same as the spirit's main body—manifestations of his obsessions in life.

Looking at the scarred martial artist of the Country of Stone Hair, especially the wounds on his chest and neck from saber slashes, Chen Ping'an, though he had never truly experienced battle on a battlefield, knew that this man's death in combat was worthy of the word "heroic."

The yin spirit looked back at the front hall, then turned and continued, "Immortal master, you are from the mountains, so you may understand us ghosts, despised by heaven and earth. The more dead we are, the stronger our desire for life. If we can barely cling to existence, we will do anything. So after dying in battle, my fellow soldiers from the same hometown and I, our yin souls did not disperse. We rested by day and traveled by night, heading south until we came here. Some brothers couldn't hold on and dissipated along the way. Some returned to their hometowns, saw their wives, children, and parents, and mostly passed on peacefully in ancestral halls or graves. But many brothers grew increasingly demonic. Whenever they encountered living people at night, they wanted to devour their yang energy. Or when passing by places like this Spirit Official Temple, which had no deity presiding, they would recklessly want to feast. It's extremely difficult to restrain them, getting harder..."

Chen Ping'an nodded and asked, "May I ask, General, if among your comrades, someone wanted to do such things—like harming commoners along the way, and you couldn't stop them—how would you handle it?"

This was a very awkward question.

The military yin spirit gently pushed the scabbard of his knife, his face full of pain but with no hesitation at all. "Then I must ask my blade whether it agrees. In life, we were warriors who defended our country. Since we died, we have no way to serve our country further. But if dying means harming the common people, they must first get past me."

The military yin spirit took a deep breath, grinned, and said, "Don't laugh at me, immortal master, but as we traveled south, brothers gradually returned to their hometowns and parted ways. From more than six hundred yin soldiers in the eyes of the common people at first, we are now fewer than ten. Not only have we not harmed a single living commoner, but along the way, we have also cleared out nearly a hundred lonely ghosts full of resentment in various mass graves. Unfortunately, the military cultivators who accompanied our army ran faster than anyone back then, so I never had a chance to ask them after death whether this kind of 'removing harm for the people' could earn us yin virtue, so we can be reborn in a good family in the next life."

Chen Ping'an first clasped his fists in salute, then withdrew his hands, and said in a firm, unquestionable tone, "Heaven and earth are impartial, but human ethics have their way. I believe that you, General, and your comrades will receive yin virtue's protection, which can both shield yourselves and bless your families and descendants!"

When the military man heard these words spoken so convincingly by an immortal master, the iron-boned battlefield warrior wept on the spot. He turned his head and said, "Did you hear that? I wasn't lying to you!"

At the back door of the front hall, one by one, warriors appeared, each clasping their fists—whether to thank the general who shared their fate, or the young man in the green cotton robe for his "final judgment."

When the world was bitterly cold and bones froze, when a country's mountains and rivers were shattered, their iron armor clanked loudly.

In the deep darkness of that night, Chen Ping'an took out paper and brush, and carefully recorded the names and hometowns of those more than six hundred yin spirits, including the general. He said that later, a friend would hold two grand ceremonies—a Zhou Tian ritual and a Water and Land ceremony—and he could try to include their names. During this time, Zeng Ye, who had finished his cultivation for the night, opened the main hall door and helped Chen Ping'an and the dozen or so yin soldiers considerably. Chen Ping'an was very fluent in the elegant speech of Vase Bottle Continent, and he was not unfamiliar with the official language of the Zhu Ying Dynasty commonly used by cultivators and commoners around Writing Bamboo Lake. But when the soldiers spoke with various local accents from the Country of Stone Hair, it became very troublesome. Luckily, Zeng Ye could act as an interpreter.

They worked until just before cockcrow before Chen Ping'an managed to record all the names in the ledger.

For yin spirits, cockcrow didn't necessarily mean they had to retreat. Some powerful yin spirits, as long as it wasn't the scorching noon sun, could walk in the yang world during the day without hindrance. But for yin spirits, resting at cockcrow was like the human habit of rising at dawn—almost instinctive.

The surname Wei, a fallen general of the Country of Stone Hair, after Chen Ping'an put away his paper and brush, said that since they were about to part, he wanted to take a walk outside the Spirit Official Temple with Chen Ping'an. Chen Ping'an naturally didn't refuse.

The two walked past the front hall, stepped out the gate, and the military yin spirit said softly with a smile, "Mr. Chen is a registered immortal master from elsewhere, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't be so rusty with our local official language."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "I come from the north."

The general instinctively rubbed his neck and said with a smile, "Even if you were from Great Li, it doesn't matter now. I have to admit, that Great Li Iron Cavalry is truly... formidable. On the battlefield, there was no need for the military cultivators on either side to engage—one side thought it unnecessary, the other didn't dare to die. When fighting, with equal numbers, the situation was completely one-sided. And that was even when the Great Li troops dismounted to fight. In martial skill and momentum, our Country of Stone Hair soldiers couldn't compare. It was infuriating and humiliating, which is why my brothers and I couldn't rest in peace. But I have to say, we also felt some grudging admiration."

Chen Ping'an hummed in acknowledgment.

The general stopped walking. "I won't pry, but I'm not stupid. I know Mr. Chen is actually the one who will hold the Zhou Tian and Water and Land ceremonies. So..."

The general gently shook his armor, released his grip on the knife handle, and was about to kneel on one knee—this great kindness required some gesture for his brothers from the mountain immortal.

But Chen Ping'an grabbed his hands, preventing him from kneeling no matter what.

Chen Ping'an laughed. "No need for this. I don't deserve such a great gift."

The general had to give up helplessly, joking, "Mr. Chen, with such courtesy, are you trying to make me die of shame again?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare."

Chen Ping'an cupped his hands in his sleeves, looked into the distance. Dawn was about to break, the night gradually thinning. He said softly, "General Wei is actually much better than me. Right from the start, you knew how to do the right thing. That's truly good for your comrades. I'm not as decisive as you; I not only make myself suffer, but I also make everyone else suffer."

The general was silent for a moment, then asked, "Why shouldn't you speak of your own suffering? If you're not happy yourself, why can't you say so? And what do you mean by 'making everyone else suffer'? Mr. Chen, I'm an outsider, but I've been on this journey too. I know the hardships. It's not easy, especially to turn your blade against your own comrades. That pain is worse than being cut by a Great Li saber. When it becomes unbearable, when you feel you can't get through it, I would secretly call a few of my close brothers and have them beat me up, or I would beat them up. Otherwise, I would have gone mad long ago. Maybe before my brothers lost their wits and turned into vengeful spirits, I would have become a calamitous ghost myself. So Mr. Chen, you shouldn't think like that."

Chen Ping'an pondered this carefully, then smiled broadly. "Thank you. Hearing you say that, General Wei, I feel much better."

The general surnamed Wei laughed heartily. "I'm no general. I'm just a military official of the sixth grade, actually a meritorious officer. The real generals with power either ran away or avoided battle, so I ended up leading so many brothers..."

He stamped his foot lightly on the snow by the roadside. "I just went to die. It's no glorious deed—just a shameful matter."

Chen Ping'an remembered something, took out a handful of Snowflower Coins. "These are spirit money from the mountains. You can absorb their spiritual energy to maintain your wits. They're the least valuable kind."

The general hesitated, then reached out and took them, joking, "Mr. Chen could give me more. I don't mind spirit money being heavy. In life and death, I love money. What's lighter than silver under heaven?"

Chen Ping'an quickly waved his hands, laughing. "I'm an accountant now. I'm very shrewd with business. I already know your hometowns. I know exactly how many spirit coins each of you needs for night travel."

The general surnamed Wei laughed heartily.

Well, well.

Was there a businessman in the world who was afraid others didn't know he was "shrewd"?

Chen Ping'an asked, "Since you, General Wei, are from a garrison on the northern border of the Country of Stone Hair, do you plan to see your brothers off and then return north alone?"

The general surnamed Wei, who was just over thirty, shook his head. "No need to go back. My parents died early, I have no wife or children, and everyone I knew in my hometown is dead. The emperor began mobilizing the border troops on a large scale two years ago. Besides the northern border troops, which were always tough, several other border armies that were willing and able to fight hard were also mostly transferred north. As for the southern Huang clan and other regional forces, they were called but wouldn't move. So they rebelled, stabbing us in the back at a critical moment. I know in my heart that our Country of Stone Hair's backbone has been completely broken by the Great Li Iron Cavalry."

Chen Ping'an said slowly, "General Wei, if you're willing, after you finish everything, go alone to Cloud Tower City in Writing Bamboo Lake, find an eighth-level sword cultivator named Du Shehu. If Du Shehu isn't in the city, go to the Liu family on Plum Alley and ask their patriarch to introduce you, then take a boat to Green Gorge Island. Whether to Du Shehu or the Liu patriarch, just say you are a friend of Chen Ping'an. When you arrive at Green Gorge Island, someone will receive you. You can stay temporarily at the mountain gate area, in Zeng Ye's room, until we return. If General Wei is willing, I can write a letter and give you a token."

The general surnamed Wei smiled and asked, "Does Mr. Chen or perhaps a friend here know ghostly arts? Do you plan to train me into a ghost general? Mr. Chen has done me a great kindness, so I ask this. Otherwise, I wouldn't open my mouth. I'd just agree verbally, then wander around, never going to Writing Bamboo Lake. I hope Mr. Chen will forgive me. To be honest, I have no interest whatsoever in fighting and killing. If I could, I'd just let myself dissipate day by day and accept my fate. Mr. Chen's great kindness, I can only hope to repay in the next life."

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "Although I know some ghostly secrets and have two spiritual artifacts suitable for yin spirits to reside in, I don't hope you to serve me. I just don't want to see you dissipate into heaven and earth. Once you reach Green Gorge Island, staying or leaving will be entirely up to you, if you trust me. Even if you want to become a ghost general, I won't agree. That would be an insult to you and to myself."

The yin spirit surnamed Wei clasped his fists. "With that said, I'm relieved. Every extra day I live is a gain. As for how much of your spirit money I consume, I'll say the same shameless thing—I'll repay you in the next life if I can! If not, then let's just say Mr. Chen, the accountant, isn't shrewd enough!"

Chen Ping'an took off his Nurturing Sword Gourd and took a sip of wine.

Rarely did he drink just for the pleasure of it, not to stay awake.

Back at the Spirit Official Temple, Chen Ping'an wrote a letter, then gave him a Yang Qi Lamp Talisman and a small bamboo slip made from purple bamboo. He gave all these to the general surnamed Wei, and finally secretly slipped him a Minor Heat Coin.

After doing this, dawn had broken.

All the yin spirits had temporarily taken refuge in the front hall of the Spirit Official Temple.

Chen Ping'an returned to the main hall. Zeng Ye had already packed his luggage and shouldered the bamboo box.

Chen Ping'an clasped his fists to the painted statue and said softly, apologetically, "We two have spent the night here, and the yin soldiers in the front hall have also borrowed lodging. I apologize for the disturbance."

Zeng Ye had no choice but to follow suit, clasping his fists and offering an apology.

They walked out of the main hall, passing the front hall. The general surnamed Wei only clasped his fists in farewell, without further words of gratitude.

Leaving the Spirit Official Temple, they continued north. Walking in the snow, Zeng Ye asked softly, "Mr. Chen? Can I ask a question?"

Chen Ping'an had just bent down to scoop up a handful of snow to wash his face. He smiled. "Go ahead."

Zeng Ye asked, "For no reason, why do you keep spending money like this, Mr. Chen? On Maoyue Island, my master and everyone said that we cultivators spend the most money. If we don't save on small things, we'll never have a great future."

Chen Ping'an smiled and asked back, "Then do you think I have a great future now?"

Zeng Ye scratched his head. "Of course! Mr. Chen is already a great cultivator of the highest order!"

Chen Ping'an said, "There you go. Since I'm already a great cultivator in your eyes, occasionally not saving isn't a big deal."

Zeng Ye felt that Mr. Chen, who always treated people sincerely, was deliberately not explaining this thoroughly. But seeing that Mr. Chen didn't seem inclined to elaborate, Zeng Ye didn't press further.

Chen Ping'an said thoughtfully, "Last night we stayed at the Spirit Official Temple. Do you know the origin of Spirit Officials and their duties?"

Zeng Ye shook his head. "I only heard from my master that they are Daoist deities, with even older origins than mountain and river gods."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Then have you heard the saying, 'There are gods three feet above your head'? Spirit Officials were once deities who examined people's merits and demerits in the world. Although this saying isn't as effective nowadays, I think believing in it is better than not believing it. Whether commoners or so-called cultivators, if they fear nothing in heaven or earth, and only fear evil people and evil ghosts, I think that's not good. But that's just my opinion, Zeng Ye. You don't need to take it too seriously—just listen."

Zeng Ye nodded. "I'll remember it first. Maybe it will come in handy someday."

Chen Ping'an turned to look at Zeng Ye and smiled.

Zeng Ye felt embarrassed. "Mr. Chen, did I say something wrong again?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head, walking forward slowly. "No, you said it well. Some truths are for living and helping you live better, while others are for peace of mind. Which truths are better and more suitable for the moment depends on each person's foundation and state of mind. I think they're all useful truths. You'll come to know many truths, big and small, in the future. When you encounter something, take them out, think about them, and then choose."

Zeng Ye said sincerely, "Mr. Chen, you know so many truths."

Chen Ping'an laughed. "Stop saying such nonsense from now on. Your 'Mr. Chen' has never been short of flatterers like you."

Zeng Ye, carrying the large bamboo box on his back, turned sideways and grinned cheerfully. "Right now, I'm the only one accompanying Mr. Chen, so I need to say more of these sincere flattering words, lest Mr. Chen get unused to not hearing any flattery for too long."

Chen Ping'an squinted his eyes, smiling. Suddenly he crouched down, skillfully forming a small snowman the size of a palm, and placed it on the bamboo box behind Zeng Ye. The tall youth looked bewildered.

Chen Ping'an clapped his hands. "Next, I'll practice a basic fist stance. It's very simple—throw one punch every six steps. You can follow me, but when you learn the fist, you must ensure the snowman on the bamboo box doesn't fall. I'll only teach you three times. From now on, you can walk using this fist stance whenever you have time. I won't force you, and you don't need to force yourself. Just treat it as a small diversion."

Chen Ping'an then demonstrated the walking stance three times. Zeng Ye concentrated, staring intently at Chen Ping'an's steps and the final punch.

Chen Ping'an saw it all and let Zeng Ye try it himself.

Perfectly steady, it looked much better than the straw-sandaled youth from Mud Vase Alley back in the day.

But Chen Ping'an sighed inwardly. "Watching the fist without understanding its meaning, three years and still not initiated."

Zeng Ye's comprehension in fist techniques was far inferior to that thin, weak boy back in the Rouge Prefecture city of Colorful Garments Country, who once stood before him holding a firewood knife.

But this wasn't a big deal. As Chen Ping'an had said, it was just to give Zeng Ye something to do, to avoid them staring at each other in silence along the way. After all, those fox-fur beauty talismans couldn't be taken out often, and Chen Ping'an was truly afraid of those increasingly lively and unrestrained female yin spirits. Teasing Zeng Ye was one thing, but they secretly bet among themselves, clumsily casting flirtatious glances at him. What were they thinking—asking for humiliation? How many dangers and turbulent waves of the Jianghu had Chen Ping'an seen?

Zeng Ye, after all, was a cultivator who had been lavishly funded on Maoyue Island, so his physique was strong. As long as Chen Ping'an didn't point out the flaws, Zeng Ye was quite satisfied with his imitation of the Shake Mountain Fist stance. The snowman on the bamboo box behind him never tilted or fell.

After Chen Ping'an finished the three demonstrations, he stopped practicing the stance and occasionally took out the topographic map to study.

That night, they planned to camp in a desolate wilderness. As long as it didn't snow, it was fine.

Chen Ping'an took out a fox-fur beauty talisman. Inside resided a female yin spirit named Su Xinzhai.

She had been a Cave Dwelling realm cultivator in life, from the Country of Stone Hair. Her father favored males over females. She was spotted for her talent as a child by a cultivator from a mountain cave dwelling in the Country of Stone Hair and taken to Yellow Hedge Mountain to formally cultivate. During more than a decade of cultivation on the mountain, she never descended to visit her family. Su Xinzhai had no emotional attachment to her family. Her father once personally came to the foot of Yellow Hedge Mountain, begging to see his daughter, but Su Xinzhai still refused to meet him. The man, hoping his daughter would help his son in the imperial examinations, returned empty-handed, cursing all the way in the most vile language—hard to imagine it coming from a biological father. Su Xinzhai overheard these words clearly, following him secretly, and was utterly heartbroken. She had originally planned to help her family once before severing worldly ties, but after that, she returned to the mountain gate.

The last time Su Xinzhai descended the mountain for a journey, she was abducted along with two senior and junior sisters by a Dragon Gate realm patriarch from Plain Scale Island in Writing Bamboo Lake, and met her end in the mouth of that horned dragon. The other two female disciples had died at the hands of that patriarch even earlier.

Su Xinzhai appeared in the form of a beauty painted on a fox-fur talisman, charming and expressive.

She was the most open-minded and lively among the twelve female yin spirits. Many of the pranks teasing Zeng Ye were her ideas.

If they weren't about to enter Yellow Hedge Mountain territory, Chen Ping'an wouldn't have dared to invite her out.

Regarding the recent situation of Yellow Hedge Mountain, Chen Ping'an had told Su Xinzhai everything he knew from the beginning.

Her beloved master had passed away several years ago, but Yellow Hedge Mountain was still relatively stable. After all, it was only a second-rate immortal sect in the Country of Stone Hair—neither high nor low. In the chaos, it was relatively easier to avoid disaster. Third-rate or lower sects had already been swallowed up by neighboring cave dwellings. First-rate top powers, being prominent, invited trouble, struggling with how to deal with the imperial court or the Great Li Iron Cavalry. One misstep could lead to annihilation.

Yellow Hedge Mountain had more than thirty cultivators, all officially registered immortal masters. Including servants and retainers, there were about two hundred people.

Su Xinzhai's last wish was to return to Yellow Hedge Mountain, burn three sticks of incense at her master's grave and in the Ancestral Hall, and ask for nothing more. She didn't even want to live in the Nether Prison Yama Hall or the imitation Glazed Pavilion.

After Su Xinzhai appeared, she didn't tease Zeng Ye or the accountant for the first time.

Zeng Ye found it strange, but Chen Ping'an didn't.

It was the sentiment of being close to home that made her timid.

Seeing Su Xinzhai, Zeng Ye felt a bit happy.

A youth's heart was as clear as water.

Chen Ping'an knew, and Su Xinzhai knew it too, but she pretended not to. Whether a girl's heart stirs often depends more on love at first sight than for older women.

Men are moved by a woman's beauty; women are moved by a man's handsome looks. These are unbreakable truths, not worth making a fuss about.

Poor Zeng Ye, a tall youth, was in a better position than the ghost cultivator Ma Yuanzhi from Crimson String Mansion, but still not much better.

Seeing Su Xinzhai's melancholy, Chen Ping'an changed his plan. He told Zeng Ye to rest for an hour or so after cultivation, then travel through the night.

Zeng Ye, finally able to do something for Su Xinzhai, beat his chest vigorously, making Chen Ping'an cover his forehead. Truly a fledgling that had never flown among the flowers.

Still, Chen Ping'an gave Zeng Ye some space. He walked off alone, leaving Su Xinzhai by the campfire to "guard the path" for Zeng Ye, who was cultivating.

Chen Ping'an secretly left two flying swords there, then walked alone on a mountain ridge path, where snow weighed down the pines and occasionally fell with a rustling sound.

He turned to look and saw Su Xinzhai lifting her skirt and running quickly, deliberately making sounds in the snow, leaving a long trail of footprints behind her. This wasn't because she was a Cave Dwelling realm cultivator in life, but because the fox-fur talisman beauty from Clear Wind City's Xu clan made it easy.

The sky was high, the earth vast, full of wonders.

Cultivators, step by step, ascend and see further, always able to see more beautiful scenery than at the mountain's foot.

Su Xinzhai came to Chen Ping'an's side, walking shoulder to shoulder with him, and laughed, "Mr. Chen really isn't fit to be a matchmaker. Can't you see that I have no feelings for that simpleton Zeng Ye?"

Chen Ping'an smiled bitterly. "If you don't have feelings, fine. I'm not forcing you to do anything. But don't break his heart on purpose. After this, Miss Su may be free, but I still have to live with that simpleton day and night for several years."

Su Xinzhai pretended to be surprised, grinning, "Mr. Chen, an immortal lord, cares about a simpleton's mood? If he's disobedient, beat him! Then he'll know to obey. That's how we rogue cultivators from Writing Bamboo Lake do it. Nobody remembers kindness, only beatings."

Chen Ping'an laughed in exasperation. "I won't even bother with you."

Su Xinzhai suddenly tried to take his arm, but Chen Ping'an jumped back to avoid it, glaring. "Remember the beatings?"

Su Xinzhai covered her mouth and laughed, bent down to make a snowball, and asked casually, "Mr. Chen, where's the little charcoal brazier you carry? I can help start a fire."

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "No need to waste charcoal. On Green Gorge Island, we have plenty; when it's used up, someone will add more. Here, if we run out, I have to buy more at the market. My hands would be warm, but my heart would ache."

Su Xinzhai had appeared many times along the way and had long experienced the accountant's stinginess, but she still found it amusing.

She had asked that question just to get this answer.

Su Xinzhai walked in front of Chen Ping'an, then backward, giggling, "When we get to Yellow Hedge Mountain, Mr. Chen absolutely must eat a serving of crispy, crispy Osmanthus Street fried dough twists at the foot of the mountain before it's a worthwhile trip. Better buy a whole sack to take along."

Chen Ping'an said testily, "Are you paying?"

Su Xinzhai rolled her eyes. "Oh dear, my great Mr. Chen, my venerable immortal, you've come all this way—are you really fussing over a few taels of silver?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "You're obviously a girl who doesn't know how to manage a household, yet you dare to look down on the honest, steady Zeng Ye?"

Su Xinzhai was furious; she threw the snowball in her hand. Chen Ping'an, slightly slouched, easily dodged it. Su Xinzhai was about to make another snowball, but Chen Ping'an quickly said, "Stop, stop! I don't want Zeng Ye to misunderstand us."

Su Xinzhai actually stopped, teasing, "Is Mr. Chen 'having seen the ocean, no other water can call,' or 'having the desire but not the guts'?"

Chen Ping'an smiled faintly. "That's not for outsiders to know."

Su Xinzhai looked at the young man's eyes, made a face, and said, "Ooh ooh ooh, our wooden Mr. Chen really does have a girl he likes. Sigh, I lost the bet again."

Chen Ping'an let it go with a laugh.

Finally, Chen Ping'an told Su Xinzhai to go back to Zeng Ye first, saying he wanted to take a little more walk.

Su Xinzhai teased him about being a young fox; who knew how many girls he had ruined to become so watertight.

Chen Ping'an accepted it as a compliment and didn't argue.

Su Xinzhai returned to Zeng Ye, crouching by the campfire.

Chen Ping'an didn't return for a long time.

Zeng Ye finished his cultivation, saw Su Xinzhai beside him, and just smiled foolishly.

When Chen Ping'an returned, they continued on.

Since they were approaching the territory of an immortal cave dwelling, Chen Ping'an didn't take out the other nine fox-fur talismans. This was the same as when they passed temples of mountain and river gods, or the civil and military temples of city god pavilions.

Actually, an offering jade token from Green Gorge Island in Writing Bamboo Lake was more than enough to avoid any small troubles that might arise. Moreover, the Country of Stone Hair, being close to Writing Bamboo Lake with its countless rogue cultivators, was used to many strange phenomena that would be unthinkable in other small countries. But Chen Ping'an insisted, and Su Xinzhai and the other nine yin spirits just muttered a few complaints, not really sounding like complaints—more like a child whining to an elder.

At dusk, one ghost and two people arrived at the foot of Yellow Hedge Mountain, at a small town. Before going up the mountain, Chen Ping'an, though he said he didn't want to spend money, still bought a bag of Osmanthus Street fried dough twists, the most expensive kind with assorted fillings. He shared them with Su Xinzhai and Zeng Ye. They were indeed crispy and sweet. After a few bites, Chen Ping'an turned around and bought two more bags, secretly storing them in his Proximity Tool. Seeing Su Xinzhai's smile, Chen Ping'an pretended not to see.

The two cultivators guarding the mountain gate of Yellow Hedge Mountain were two lower-realm disciples of mediocre talent, one old and one young.

When Chen Ping'an took out that spiritually vibrant offering jade token from Green Gorge Island and explained his purpose briefly, they were greatly alarmed. Without any thought of reporting up the chain, they immediately led the three up the mountain.

Chen Ping'an did not conceal Su Xinzhai's identity or the two matters from Yellow Hedge Mountain.

The old cultivator actually remembered the name Su Xinzhai. She had been the pride of Yellow Hedge Mountain in her day. But the tragedy at the foot of the mountain had not only left Yellow Hedge Mountain without any thought of seeking justice, but they had even sent someone to Plain Scale Island in Writing Bamboo Lake to apologize to that Dragon Gate realm patriarch, hoping to turn misfortune into fortune and forge a connection with Plain Scale Island, to raise a banner on Yellow Hedge Mountain and intimidate their enemies. However, Plain Scale Island didn't even let the Yellow Hedge Mountain cultivator enter the mountain gate, giving him no face at all. Fortunately, after returning, the cultivator privately spread some ambiguous rumors that actually brought some real benefits to his sect.

So, hearing that an offering master from Green Gorge Island was visiting, the old cultivator dared not neglect.

The founding patriarch of Yellow Hedge Mountain soon emerged from his residence, accompanied by several influential cultivators of the mountain, to personally receive this lofty Grand Offering Master Chen.

For the Country of Stone Hair, among the thousand-plus islands of Writing Bamboo Lake and tens of thousands of unruly rogue cultivators, more than a hundred islands needed to be remembered. Among them were over a dozen large islands like Green Tomb, Granule, and Heavenly Mother. And Green Gorge Island, which produced the Nascent Soul founder Cut River True Lord, was at the very top, like a land immortal at the highest point of the human world. Yellow Hedge Mountain couldn't know the latest upheavals in Writing Bamboo Lake over the past two months, but everyone knew about Liu Zhimao successfully ascending to the throne of the lake's sovereign.

When Su Xinzhai saw the familiar face of the Yellow Hedge Mountain patriarch, tears streamed down her face. She immediately knelt, sobbing uncontrollably.

This startled the patriarch and everyone on Yellow Hedge Mountain.

So Chen Ping'an, with carefully chosen words, repeated what he had already said to the gatekeepers.

These words were Su Xinzhai's own invention.

Chen Ping'an only relayed them.

After Yellow Hedge Mountain learned the "truth," everyone felt relieved. The patriarch, an Observing Ocean realm cultivator who had never managed to break through to Dragon Gate, showed concern for Su Xinzhai, who had changed her appearance, when they sat down together. There was some genuine feeling in it—it wasn't fake. Su Xinzhai's nostalgia made the Yellow Hedge Mountain cultivators sigh deeply.

Then Su Xinzhai successfully went to the Ancestral Hall on the mountain to burn incense, with the patriarch personally handing her the incense.

Finally, Su Xinzhai went to her master's grave. This time, only Chen Ping'an and Zeng Ye accompanied her. She declined the company of the patriarch and several senior cultivators.

A middle-aged cultivator looked at the receding figures of the three and couldn't help but softly remark, "This Grand Offering Master Chen from Green Gorge Island, who has come from afar, is truly... you can't judge a book by its cover."

The founding patriarch laughed. "What kind of talk is that? Is that praise or criticism? Luckily Lord Chen isn't here, or with that remark, our little Yellow Hedge Mountain might suffer his displeasure."

But the patriarch soon stroked his beard and laughed. "But indeed, you can't judge a book by its cover. Ordinary appearance, not carrying any dazzling treasure of note. If not for that offering jade token, one wouldn't believe that so young a cultivator could be a top offering master of Green Gorge Island! Amazing! Compared to him, we old bones are nothing, nothing at all."

Before the middle-aged cultivator could say anything, the patriarch glanced at him and shook his head slightly. "With things like this, what more does our Yellow Hedge Mountain need to do? Are we afraid of missing out on a good deed, so we have to go out of our way to add superfluous touches?"

The middle-aged cultivator nodded in understanding.

Though they had walked far away, Su Xinzhai keenly noticed Chen Ping'an's helpless expression and asked with a smile, "What's wrong? Is the old patriarch on the mountain speaking ill of me behind my back?"

Chen Ping'an smiled and shook his head. "No, they were praising me."

Su Xinzhai asked curiously, "If they said Mr. Chen is promising despite your youth, that's acceptable—you can accept that generously. But if they praised you for being handsome and imposing? Mr. Chen, don't take it to heart."

Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "Truly, birds of a feather flock together. The cultivators of your Yellow Hedge Mountain all have similar eyesight."

Su Xinzhai laughed.

After that, she walked a bit slower.

Chen Ping'an slowed his pace to match.

In the back mountain of Yellow Hedge Mountain, which had far less spiritual energy than the area around Green Gorge Island, there was a scenic spot. Before a grave.

After burning incense and kowtowing, Su Xinzhai didn't want to rise for a long time.

Chen Ping'an crouched in the distance, picking up a handful of dirt and letting it trickle through his fingers.

Zeng Ye looked at Su Xinzhai's figure from afar, the youth also heartbroken.

Su Xinzhai stood up, wiped her tears, walked over to Chen Ping'an, her expression relieved, no trace of sorrow in her brows.

Chen Ping'an threw away the dirt and stood up.

Su Xinzhai smiled. "Mr. Chen can take back the talisman now."

Chen Ping'an opened his mouth as if to speak, but in the end, he didn't say anything more. He retrieved the fox-fur talisman and put it in his sleeve.

Before him was only the female yin spirit in her original form.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Are you sure you don't want to live in the fox-fur talisman? Even with the Zhou Tian and Water and Land ceremonies, reincarnation is still..."

Su Xinzhai had already shaken her head. "I don't regret it. Not at all."

She took a few steps back, faced the accountant whose pale face was no better than a yin spirit, smiled radiantly, and made a graceful curtsy.

She turned to Zeng Ye, whose eyes were moist, and smiled, "Silly boy, from now on, follow Mr. Chen and cultivate well. Remember to reach the middle five realms, and then become an earth immortal!"

Zeng Ye nodded vigorously.

Then she looked at Chen Ping'an and said softly, "May Mr. Chen's wishes come true, and may you be carefree."

Chen Ping'an said hoarsely, "Think it over?"

Su Xinzhai said again, "May Mr. Chen and the girl he likes become a match made in heaven."

Chen Ping'an took a deep breath, raised his fists, "May I meet you again, Miss Su, if fate allows."

Su Xinzhai, with tears streaming down her face, smiled happily and said, "Then, Mr. Chen, you must not forget me when we meet again!"

Chen Ping'an nodded lightly.

Su Xinzhai tilted her head slightly, gazing at the young man's eyes, as if to confirm whether he was lying. Then she burst into laughter. "Ah, I just discovered that our Mr. Chen is extremely handsome."

Chen Ping'an forced a smile, raised his trembling thumb, "Miss, your eyesight is not bad."

Su Xinzhai had no more obsessions. Bit by bit, she began to dissipate like a painting of a beautiful woman burning to ashes, scattering and returning to heaven and earth.

Chen Ping'an waved goodbye to her.

Zeng Ye buried his face in his hands and wept.

Finally, Chen Ping'an patted the youth on the shoulder. "Let's go."

Zeng Ye hung his head and nodded slightly.

Chen Ping'an said softly, "If you really liked Miss Su that much, and in the end, you never got to tell her in this life, it's okay. In the decades or centuries to come, even if you have to search the entire world, you must go see her again and loudly tell her that you like her. If a hundred years isn't enough, then strive to become an earth immortal who contends with heaven for longevity. If you still like her by then, diligently cultivate and travel ten thousand miles. What harm is there in searching a thousand years for her?"

Zeng Ye suddenly looked up, sobbing, "But I'm too untalented."

Chen Ping'an said solemnly, "Zeng Ye, before you have put in effort far beyond ordinary people, you have no right to say you are untalented! You can say that to others a thousand times, ten thousand times, I don't care. But here, as long as you still want to cultivate with me, you can only say it once!"

Zeng Ye was stunned.

Chen Ping'an started walking first, saying his final words to Zeng Ye, "I'll wait for you at the mountain gate. Before that, I'll go say goodbye to the Yellow Hedge Mountain cultivators—you don't need to come. You can stay here alone to say what you want to say. Whether you speak it out loud doesn't matter. What matters is whether you can truly keep it in your heart. That will prove how much you like Miss Su. But I'll say something you may not want to hear now: even if a few months or years later, you fall for another girl, I won't think less of you. But... if you can always remember Miss Su, I will definitely think more of you!"

Chen Ping'an left Zeng Ye alone there and returned alone to thank the Yellow Hedge Mountain cultivators and bid them farewell.

He slowly descended the mountain.

At the foot of the mountain, he sat on the bottom step.

Turning to look, a tall youth was running down the mountain.

---

On Pine and Crane Street in a prefecture city of the Country of Stone Hair, where the wealthy gathered, there was a Ma family mansion with a very high threshold. They were already a top-tier commandery noble clan, and because they had a daughter more precious than a princess, the family advanced even further, gaining immense prestige in the entire prefecture city. Even the usually aloof and proud governor would personally send people to the Ma mansion as guests during festivals.

At year-end, one early morning, hoofbeats echoed on the bluestone street. Three riders entered the city early and arrived at Pine and Crane Street.

Due to the war having spread to the central region of the Country of Stone Hair, just one prefecture away, this year's year-end was not as festive as in previous years.

The three riders dismounted.

One was a dispirited young man in a green cotton robe, with a sword and knife at his waist like a wandering knight.

The other two, leading the horses, were a woman with a graceful figure, though her face was hidden under a veiled hat, and a sturdy youth carrying a bamboo box.

The gatekeeper, a middle-aged man dressed as well as a local gentry, yawned, squinting at the out-of-towner leader with some impatience. But when he heard that this man was from Green Gorge Island in Writing Bamboo Lake, he jolted awake, all drowsiness gone. He immediately bowed and scraped, saying, "Immortal master, please wait a moment. I'll go report to the master." The gatekeeper ran off quickly, not forgetting to turn back and smile, begging the young immortal master not to be impatient—he would be back in a flash.

The mansion was vast. About half an incense stick later, the sweating gatekeeper returned hurriedly with a gaunt, refined man with graying temples.

Behind them, an old man with the bearing of a family tutor walked at a steady but not slow pace.

The woman under the veiled hat was already in tears, but she bit her lip tightly and didn't speak.

Chen Ping'an took out his jade token. The old gentleman took it, examined both sides carefully, then respectfully returned it to Chen Ping'an, saying softly, "We were unaware of the Grand Offering Master's esteemed arrival; please forgive our failure to welcome you from afar."

The Ma family patriarch suppressed his excitement and awe and quickly invited the three from Green Gorge Island into the mansion.

The patriarch originally wanted to open the ceremonial gate to show sincerity, but the young immortal master politely declined.

Chen Ping'an, following the prearranged words that he had discussed with the legitimate daughter who had brought such glory to the Ma family, said directly to the patriarch, who was nearly fifty but well-preserved, "Ma Duyi, in Writing Bamboo Lake, was originally a cultivator of Pine Wind Island, under an old cultivator named Shao Dongtian. She had no hope for the Great Way. Later, she had another opportunity and truly entered the hall of cultivation. Fortunately, she is from the same lineage as me, now considered my junior by sect. So, when I came out on this journey, I made a special trip to visit your Ma family."

These words, spoken by a guest, were quite arrogant and condescending, fitting the tone of a Writing Bamboo Lake cultivator and befitting a top-tier registered immortal master of the Country of Stone Hair.

But the Ma patriarch and the family tutor both felt that this was only proper.

Otherwise, they might have suspected the young man's offering master identity was false—perhaps trying to scam their family, given the Ma family's precarious situation. At best, they would have just served him a good meal, entertained him warmly, and then sent him off quickly to avoid trouble. After all, what the Ma family needed now was actual aid in times of need, not superfluous flattery.

Though still somewhat skeptical of the young man's claimed status as a Green Gorge Island offering master, they believed it more now, so their polite words became even politer, almost fawning.

After all, a basketful of polite words cost not a single coin.

The Ma family hadn't built its fortune just by reading the sage's books for generations.

The only trouble was that over the past few decades, the Ma family had been too glorious, too adept at currying favor with everyone. They wanted to make money from everything, and in the end, they landed in huge trouble. The Ma family wasn't afraid of spending silver to settle problems—they feared that the large sums of silver they spent would buy not a life-saving talisman to ward off disaster, but a death warrant.

If this young immortal master really was Ma Duyi's new sect uncle, then everything would be perfect!

In the current Country of Stone Hair, from the capital to the provinces, the talk was that a sufficiently influential immortal master's word carried more weight than the pitiful officials of the six ministries!

Entering the main hall of the mansion, Chen Ping'an kept his words concise. He said that Ma Duyi had a good relationship with him. If the Ma family was in trouble, he could help a little. If the family was stable, he could see if there were any promising children suitable for cultivation. If such an opportunity existed, they could either send the child to Writing Bamboo Lake for cultivation or leave behind some spirit money—either was acceptable.

Three days later, three riders left the city.

The woman, still wearing the veiled hat, looked back at the city wall, her expression complex.

The Ma family's urgent crisis, after a young offering master from Green Gorge Island appeared and visited the governor's mansion, passed peacefully.

A Ma family child with the faintest qualification for a fourth- or fifth-rank qi practitioner was placed under the tutelage of an old immortal master in the prefecture city, beginning cultivation—not as a nominal disciple, but a true indoor disciple, to be clearly recorded in the official yamen. This meant that the child, with a renowned master and a steady stream of spirit money from the family flowing annually into the master's pocket (though not all of it would be used to pave the child's path), would at least have no worries and receive some genuine benefits.

Chen Ping'an sat on his horse, saying nothing.

Even Zeng Ye, a youth not very perceptive about human affairs, had noticed over these days at the Ma mansion that the Ma patriarch and his wife had little affection left for their daughter Ma Duyi, who had left them long ago. Their words were cautious, asking this and that: about Ma Duyi's sect origins, her cultivation level, and even subtly inquiring whether the young offering master had a Dao partner... In short, they only briefly touched upon Ma Duyi's transition from Pine Wind Island to Green Gorge Island, asking a couple of perfunctory questions. It was like socializing at a banquet or in officialdom—some obligatory remarks had to be said, but the questions and answers didn't matter; otherwise, it would look bad. That was all.

The estrangement between parent and child might have been because Ma Duyi had been away for too many years, had a difficult time on Pine Wind Island, disappointed the old patriarch, and died at only the fifth realm, never able to leave Writing Bamboo Lake to visit home. Thus, the distance grew. Maybe the parents felt the gap in status with their daughter. Maybe the family had many children, and those who grew up under their care naturally pleased their elders more than a daughter "married off" far away... There could be a thousand reasons, but the truth was only one.

At this moment, any words from an outsider would only cut into the heart—each word a stab of pain.

So Chen Ping'an, during a rest stop, subtly signaled Zeng Ye with his eyes to stop the honest youth from trying to console her.

Chen Ping'an did not put away the fox-fur beauty talisman that Ma Duyi inhabited. He let her ride and wander, following them to the next place.

After two days, Zeng Ye's gaze began to change, though his appearance and voice remained the same. But the eyes are where a person's spiritual essence gathers, easily affecting others' perception of the entire face.

Ma Duyi finally stopped being dejected. She found Zeng Ye's current state interesting.

It was a case of a Green Gorge Island servant's yin spirit possessing Zeng Ye, different from the common rogue cultivator practice of "inviting a god to descend" or "opening the door to welcome spirits."

As for the true intricacies, Ma Duyi naturally couldn't see through them.

They approached a rural village.

They saw a stooped old woman, her clothes clean and neat, patched but still not giving a sense of decay.

She was returning from washing clothes by the stream, carrying a large bamboo basket, walking unsteadily.

For an elderly village woman, this was not easy.

Life's many hardships had weathered her. To live a poor life without too many complaints was already rare. It was as hard as climbing heaven for a poor man to live like a rich man, but it was even harder to live freely and at ease.

"Zeng Ye" dismounted, stumbled forward, ran to the old woman, and knelt with a thud, kowtowing, his head hitting the ground with a thump.

The old woman looked bewildered. She quickly put down the bamboo basket, ignoring the freshly washed clothes that might get soiled, and crouched down with some difficulty, trying to help the strange youth up. In a local dialect that Chen Ping'an and Ma Duyi couldn't understand, she asked urgently, "What are you doing? What are you doing? You can't do this, you can't..."

That night.

In the old woman's hut, a fox-fur beauty talisman appeared, but inside it actually resided a man. On the table was a pile of spirit money left by someone who had departed, enough spiritual energy to sustain him for twenty years.

To see the old woman through her final years and let her live comfortably was possible.

After the guests had traveled far, the old woman and her "grandson," who had been away from home for too many years, sat holding each other's hands, weeping across from each other.

On a small country path, three riders left once more.

Zeng Ye still felt somewhat dizzy in spirit, needing to breathe slowly and circulate his energy.

The three rode slowly.

Ma Duyi suddenly spoke. "The old woman was a good person, but when she learned the truth, she shouldn't have spoken to you like that. 'A life for a life'—the principle is right, but what does it have to do with you?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I think she should have said it. That was the right way."

Ma Duyi snorted in frustration. "Look, even a country old woman is more sentimental than my heartless parents!"

Chen Ping'an turned his head and laughed. "Angry, aren't you? How about we go back to the prefecture city, and I'll get that spirit money back for you? Then I'll curse your parents for you? As usual, you compose the words, and I'll say them."

Ma Duyi, sitting leisurely on her horse, spat at the accountant, "No way! Sure enough, you're a lard-hearted accountant, thinking only of making a little profit here and there."

Chen Ping'an laughed heartily.

Ma Duyi suddenly laughed. "Do you know why my parents named me Duyi? Before I was born, the midwife swore I'd be a big, fat son. When I was born and father, waiting outside, heard it was a daughter, he was dumbfounded, stomped his foot, and walked away. But in the end, he came back angrily. My mother often told me that when he saw me at first glance—so delicate, not like those ugly babies—I was exceptionally beautiful, and he immediately cheered up. Oh, and do you know what 'Duyi' means? I'm asking you, Great Mr. Chen!"

Chen Ping'an smiled and shook his head.

Ma Duyi, imitating the old tutor she loathed as a child, swayed her head and recited, "'With high natural talent, coupled with diligent study, the heart and hand respond, and one walks alone on the great path—how fitting!'"

Chen Ping'an asked, "Isn't it 'walks alone in the world'?"

Ma Duyi laughed heartily, slapping her stomach. "Well, Mr. Chen, I've caught your fox's tail!"

Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "Fine, fine. You're the clever one."

Ma Duyi turned her head and asked softly, "Mr. Chen, why do you do this for us?"

Chen Ping'an let go of the reins, put his hands behind his head, and murmured, "Yes, why?"

Ma Duyi gazed at his gaunt face, without any romantic feelings, but she found it somewhat heartbreaking. For a moment, even her own lingering sorrow was suppressed.

Then the cotton-robed master withdrew his hands and clapped. "Got the answer!"

Ma Duyi looked curious.

The accountant with the blade-and-sword crisscross, for once so beaming, said, "Fitting! It's just fitting!"

Ma Duyi laughed along but said, "What a crappy answer."

Chen Ping'an put his hands in his sleeves and said, "If you keep complaining, I'll put you away."

Ma Duyi was not at all afraid, completely ignoring him. "Where to next?"

Chen Ping'an smiled, squinted into the distance, and murmured, "Anyway, we're in the human world."

Ma Duyi suddenly shouted, "Fitting!"

Chen Ping'an smiled and echoed, "Good."

The horse's hooves faded away from the village with its roosters crowing and dogs barking.

This year's last and heaviest snowfall, like goose feathers, came unexpectedly.

In the deep night of the storm.

They were far from the village.

Ma Duyi, a yin spirit, was not afraid of the heavy snow at all. She even had the leisure to recite famous poems: "The snow flies like gulls; in a blink, it has seen the eaves and gutters; deep in the village, stepping out the door, the wind splits the face..."

Chen Ping'an, sitting on his horse, looked around repeatedly, trying to find shelter from the wind and snow. He shivered and complained, "Where does it split the face? It's clearly freezing me to death..."

Ma Duyi giggled and asked, "Mr. Chen, is it still 'fitting' now?"

Chen Ping'an ignored her, standing on his horse to look farther into the distance. After a moment, he finally spotted a glimmer of light somewhere far away.

Chen Ping'an frowned.

On this leg of the journey, they were retracing their steps. Chen Ping'an had memorized the scenery from the previous trip; there shouldn't have been such a light.

Just as Chen Ping'an was about to brave the biting cold and move on, bypassing those faint lights, he noticed that the light seemed to be slowly shifting. If nothing unexpected happened, the light and the three riders would converge on the road ahead.

Chen Ping'an felt relieved instead. In this weather, anyone who could spot them from so far away and move to intercept them was probably not a common bandit. If they were rogue cultivators, spirits, or monsters, that would save him trouble. Big world, small problems. Sometimes, staying alive wasn't easy, but seeking death was the easiest.

Ma Duyi was a bit worried. She had finally noticed the distant anomaly. She asked softly, "Mr. Chen, should we take a detour?"

Chen Ping'an said calmly, "No need."

Ma Duyi was taken aback.

Until this moment, after leaving Writing Bamboo Lake, she had grown used to the most agreeable accountant. Now she remembered that when Mr. Chen decided it wasn't time to be agreeable, he was more disagreeable than anyone!