Chapter 458: Entering the Mountains, Climbing the Building, Meeting an Old Friend
The small town had no night curfew. Under the cover of darkness, Chen Ping'an left Clay Bottle Alley, took a slight detour, and led his horse to the Yang Family Shop.
After knocking, a sleepy-eyed youth opened the door. He was probably the new disciple Old Man Yang had taken in, as mentioned in Wei Bo's letter.
Chen Ping'an said apologetically, "Is your master asleep?"
The youth yawned and retorted, "What do you think?"
Chen Ping'an was speechless.
He had grown accustomed to the deceit and nitpicking of the Bookcase Lake region, and it took him a while to adjust.
The youth frowned and asked, "What do you want with my master? Are you sick?"
Chen Ping'an chuckled silently for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I've come for medical treatment."
The youth frowned deeply, torn.
Under the moonlight, the young man before him had slightly sunken cheeks and a haggard appearance. He looked quite like someone who wouldn't live long. His accent was local, but he had never seen him before.
But his master didn't like to show himself, so he probably wouldn't take this door-to-door business tonight. Besides, after the big commotion earlier, the reputation and business of the Yang Family Shop had taken a hit. They had made enemies with many neighbors, who now preferred to go to a pharmacy on Mooncake Lane for medicine. He and his senior sister had been idle and bored every day. And his master, that old eccentric who seemed to have a grudge against money, never cared about the shop's lack of customers. His family had been muttering about it, and last year they wanted him to switch trades and work at the Kiln Supervisory Office. His uncle had even greased the wheels. But he wasn't too keen on it himself. Dealing with those officials, bowing and scraping every day—it felt pointless.
Since Old Man Yang didn't seem inclined to show himself, Chen Ping'an thought he would come back another time. Just as he was about to take his leave, a graceful young woman walked out from inside. Her skin was slightly dark, and she was slender, but she had the makings of a beauty. Chen Ping'an recognized her as one of Old Man Yang's disciples, the senior sister of the youth from Peach Leaf Alley. She had originally been a kiln worker from Riding Dragon Alley. The kiln had many rules. For instance, when the kiln fire was lit, women were not allowed near the dragon-shaped kilns. Chen Ping'an wasn't sure how she had become a kiln worker back then. He guessed she probably did heavy, menial labor. After all, those ancestral rules were set in stone, and nearly everyone followed them. They were perhaps even more effective than the ancestral hall precepts that restrained cultivators in the mountains.
The woman's voice was as rough as stone grinding against stone, extremely hoarse and coarse. She said slowly, "Master says he can't help. From now on, catching up is fine, but no business deals."
Chen Ping'an nodded and smiled. "Tell your master I'll visit again."
The woman hesitated for a moment, then glanced at the longsword on Chen Ping'an's back. "Guest, are you a pure martial artist?"
Chen Ping'an asked, "You too?"
The woman remained silent.
Chen Ping'an asked, "Where does Zheng Dafeng live now?"
The woman finally spoke again. "He likes to wander around the prefectural city. He doesn't come to the shop often."
Chen Ping'an looked at her and the drowsy youth from Peach Leaf Alley, then smiled and led his horse away.
These two locals probably still didn't know exactly who their master was, how many Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist sages the Yang Family Shop had entertained, or what being recognized as Old Man Yang's disciple really meant.
He wondered if someone had once looked at him the same way.
As the youth closed the shop door, he complained to his senior sister, who stood motionless, "I don't like that sickly guy. The way he looks at people gives me the creeps."
Having suffered extreme poverty and hunger in her childhood, and endured too much hard labor in her youth, the woman's body was only now beginning to develop like an ordinary young girl's. She was not good with words and rarely smiled. She said nothing, just watched the distant figure walking away with the horse and the sword on his back.
She was the youth's senior sister. She had a steady disposition, so she had come into contact with some of their master's prowess earlier. In less than three years, she had already reached the Fourth Realm as a pure martial artist. But to break through the most arduous bottleneck of the Third Realm, she would rather have died in agony than swallow the ointment in that porcelain bottle. That was how she had endured that trial. Their master didn't seem to care at all. He just sat there, puffing on his pipe, not even bothering to watch coldly from the sidelines. The old man hadn't even looked at her; he was too busy letting his mind wander a thousand miles.
After she struggled to sit up, drenched in blood, she covered her face with both hands and wept tears of joy. Surviving a great disaster brings good fortune—the old saying never lies.
The old man glanced sideways at his disciple, who had escaped death by a hair's breadth. He tapped his pipe on the steps and finally said a single sentence. "Your temperament and tenacity are probably only half of someone else's. Should you be happy? That person is only a few years older than you. He was also a kiln apprentice back then, but worse off than you. He had no one to rely on from the start. He had to depend on himself for everything. Breaking through three realms in three years—is that really such a big deal? With that kind of ambition, you also want to compete for the few remaining mountaintop realms in Bottle Gourd Continent? But I do have a suggestion. Next time he disperses his martial fortune as a gift, you should take a bowl, kneel on the ground, and catch what he doesn't want. You can't even compare to him, yet you dare to ask Zheng Dafeng about Cao Ci? You're young, but your face is thick. I've certainly taken on a fine disciple. Should I go to the grave of your sissy uncle, offer a toast, and say thank you?"
When the master spoke, his words could always sting the heart.
She was like this, and her junior brother Shi Lingshan wasn't much better. The only difference was that her junior brother dared to complain in private, while she did not.
Chen Ping'an led his horse to the edge of the town, where Li Huai's house was located. He paused for a moment, then walked out of the end of the alley, mounted the horse, and headed for the nearest small hill—the Pearl Mountain he had bought for just one Gold Essence Copper Coin. He rode to the top of the hill and looked out over the town. In the dead of night, only a few places were lit up: Fortune Street, Peach Leaf Alley, the county office, and the Kiln Supervisory Office. If he turned to look northwest, towards the new prefectural city north of the mountains, the lights of thousands of households gathered together, tingeing the night sky a faint, hazy yellow. From this, one could imagine the bustle there. It must have been a scene of dazzling prosperity.
Pearl Mountain was the smallest of the western mountains, so small it couldn't be smaller. Back then, the reason Chen Ping'an had bought it was simple: it was cheap. There was no other complicated thought behind it.
At that time, he had even thought about building a thatched hut on Pearl Mountain, making it convenient to go to town. It was only a few steps away. Going back and forth between Pearl Mountain and Clay Bottle Alley, even on foot, wouldn't take much time.
Sitting on his horse, Chen Ping'an let his gaze sweep across the silhouette of the town in the night, then focused on a route leading out of town and into the mountains. In his youth, he had carried a large basket on his back to gather herbs in the mountains, trudging along. In the sweltering heat, the ropes had cut painfully into his shoulders. At the time, it felt like he was carrying the ancestral house of Clay Bottle Alley on his back. That was the first time in Chen Ping'an's life he had wanted to give up, trying to persuade himself with a perfectly valid reason: You're too young, your strength is too little. You can gather herbs tomorrow. At worst, you can get up earlier tomorrow morning and go into the mountains at dawn. Don't travel under the scorching sun anymore. You haven't even seen a single able-bodied man working in the fields along the way...
Chen Ping'an let out a soft breath, turned his horse's head, and descended Pearl Mountain.
Now, entering the mountains, the roads were wide and level, connecting the various peaks. There was no more of the rugged difficulty of the past.
The mountains stretched on endlessly. Even with the roads, Luopo Mountain was located south of the mountain range. Traveling from the easternmost Pearl Mountain would still take considerable time. Moreover, Chen Ping'an moved slowly, as if he wanted to take in the scenery of every peak he passed. He often stopped, or else led his horse on foot. By the time Chen Ping'an reached the territory of Luopo Mountain, it was a day and two nights later. This was even with Quhuang's stamina far surpassing that of an average horse.
When Chen Ping'an rode, he would occasionally gently squeeze the horse's flanks, and Quhuang would, as if by telepathy, stamp its hooves more heavily, leaving a trail of hoof prints on the road. Chen Ping'an would then turn to look back.
Over the years, he often did this sort of pointless thing—finding joy in hardship while stealing a moment of leisure in the midst of busyness.
The taciturn accountant, as well as Zeng Ye, Ma Duyi, and Gu Can, often saw him doing these strange little things.
He would crouch on the ground, using pebbles to draw a chessboard, or repeatedly study a few Go standard sequences, or play a game of Gomoku against himself.
Man and horse, they went deeper and deeper into the mountains.
Wei Bo, who should have been the first to detect Chen Ping'an's whereabouts, never showed himself.
One must know that now, not only Longquan Prefecture, but also the Dragon Whisker River and Iron Talisman River basins, and even the Embroidery River and the residence of the ghost bride who hung the plaque "Lofty Wind" and "Smooth Water," all fell under the jurisdiction of the Northern Mountain God. Wei Bo sat high on Piyun Mountain, overlooking all living beings, especially the Qi refiners, with perfect clarity.
But Wei Bo's failure to appear early was unexpected, yet within reason.
In the early years, their relationship was not deep. At first, it was maintained through A Liang. Later, it gradually became a friendship, with a hint of "gentleman's friendship." Wei Bo could take Chen Ping'an on "patrols" of the Northern Mountain's territory based purely on his personal preference, sticking a talisman from the Northern Mountain God Temple on Chen Ping'an. But now, their connections were deep, tending towards an alliance. They had to be mindful of avoiding suspicion. Even if it was just a surface gesture, they had to make it. Otherwise, the Great Li court would probably be displeased. You, Wei Bo, are after all the first of the Five Mountains gods enshrined by our court. Are you going to collude with someone in business and then haggle the Great Li House of Song to death? Even if Wei Bo himself was willing to do this, completely disregarding the dignity of the Great Li House of Song, relying on his secure position as the rightful Northern Mountain God to be arrogant and domineering, and to seize substantial benefits for himself and others, Chen Ping'an wouldn't dare agree. A get-rich-quick deal versus a long-lasting friendship—the latter was clearly more stable.
Moreover, Wei Bo was always far-sighted and acted only after careful planning. He was trustworthy.
Otherwise, Chen Ping'an wouldn't have sent so many letters to Piyun Mountain over the years.
At dawn, he finally arrived at the foot of Luopo Mountain.
The mountain gate had a memorial archway built, but it hadn't been hung with a plaque yet. Technically, since there was a mountain god shrine at the top of Luopo Mountain, it should have a plaque. But that mountain god, a former Kiln Supervisory Officer, had had bad luck. Not only was he "living under someone else's roof" on Luopo Mountain, which Chen Ping'an considered his home base, but he also had a strained relationship with Wei Bo. Moreover, a mysterious martial arts grandmaster lived in the bamboo building, and a black python often roamed around Luopo Mountain. When Li Xisheng had used the small snow cone to inscribe talismans on the wall of the bamboo building, it had caused the entire Luopo Mountain to sink a few feet. The mountain god shrine had been the most affected. Over time, the mountain god shrine of Luopo Mountain had the most meager incense offerings among the three mountain god shrines in Longquan Prefecture. This mountain god, who had been gilded after death, was unpopular in every way.
Wei Bo slowly walked down the mountain, with Shi Rou following far behind.
Chen Ping'an dismounted and asked with a smile, "Where are Pei Qian and the others?"
Wei Bo said with schadenfreude, "I deliberately didn't tell them about your whereabouts. Those three little ones still think their master and teacher is going to return to Longquan Prefecture from Red Candle Town. They must be waiting eagerly by now. As for Zhu Lian, he's been hanging around the prefectural city the past few days. He says he accidentally found a good seedling for martial arts. He doesn't dare to say too high, but the Golden Body Realm is within reach. He wants to give his young master a nice little welcome gift for returning home."
Chen Ping'an walked side by side with Wei Bo, while Shi Rou still followed far behind. She nodded to Chen Ping'an, which served as a greeting.
Chen Ping'an said apologetically, "I've been putting off the mountain purchase. I'm really sorry."
Wei Bo, dressed in white, walked along the mountain path like a divine being skimming over a lake. A gold earring hung from one ear. He was truly a god among gods. He smiled and said, "Actually, at the end of the eleventh year of the Yongjia era, this deal almost fell through. The Great Li court argued that the Oxhorn Mountain Immortal's Ferry shouldn't be sold to cultivators and should be incorporated into the Great Li military. That was a clear sign of backing out. At most, they would sell you and me one or two peripheral peaks—the big but useless kind—as a token compensation. I couldn't insist. But then the year-end came, and the Great Li Ministry of Rites shelved the matter. After the first month passed, when the officials of the Ministry of Rites had finished their business, celebrated the festival, and eaten and drunk their fill, they returned to Longquan Prefecture and suddenly changed their tune. They said we could wait a bit longer. So I guessed you must have wrapped things up smoothly in Bookcase Lake."
Chen Ping'an smiled bitterly. "Not smoothly at all."
Wei Bo turned to look at Chen Ping'an's current appearance and laughed heartily. "I can see that. It's only slightly better than the 'emaciated appearance' mortals inevitably go through when entering the divine path. It's a gruesome sight. Pei Qian and the others might not recognize you."
Chen Ping'an scratched his head and sighed. "Even if the mountain purchase is settled, I still have a mountain of debt from Bookcase Lake."
Wei Bo smiled faintly. "In the end, it's only trouble over money. That's still much better than the initial turmoil in your state of mind and that overwhelming self-doubt, isn't it?"
Chen Ping'an broke into a smile and nodded. "That's true."
Wei Bo suddenly said, "I don't have money to lend you. I'm just an empty shell of a Northern Mountain god. But if you can use this to swindle some immortal money, go ahead and take it. If you earn money, that's your skill."
Chen Ping'an rubbed his hands together and chuckled. "How could I be so bold?"
Wei Bo was taken aback. The tone didn't sound like the Chen Ping'an of old. It was as if, if he wasn't careful, this guy would take the cue and really use the Northern Mountain god's banner to make money. Wei Bo quickly patted Chen Ping'an on the shoulder and said with a grin, "If you're too embarrassed, then forget it. I don't want to make you feel awkward. Friends, after all, understand each other..."
Shi Rou followed far behind the two. To be honest, when she first saw Chen Ping'an at the foot of Luopo Mountain, she was really startled.
It had only been a few years, but the change was too great.
Could it be that after losing Sui Youbian, Lu Baixiang, Wei Xian, and Zhu Lian one after another, he had to brave Bookcase Lake alone, and the countless rogue cultivators there had beaten him back to his original form, making him suffer terribly? Was he already quite content just to have escaped that notorious place on Bottle Gourd Continent alive? Shi Rou wouldn't think less of Chen Ping'an for it. Through chats between Zhu Lian and the great mountain god Wei Bo over the years, she had some understanding of the lawlessness of Bookcase Lake. She knew that even with Zhu Lian by his side, Chen Ping'an couldn't have fought his way out of Bookcase Lake with his fists alone. Just one River-Seizing Perfected Lord Liu Zhimao was enough to give any outsider a hard time, not to mention Liu Laocheng's return to Bookcase Lake—the only Upper Five Realm rogue cultivator on Bottle Gourd Continent.
Chen Ping'an said, "Tell Pei Qian and the others not to wait stupidly in Red Candle Town."
Wei Bo smiled knowingly, nodded, and whistled. Then he said, "Go back now. Chen Ping'an is already at Luopo Mountain."
A leaf floating on a turbulent current spun and vanished in a flash.
Then, near a roof ridge in Red Candle Town, Wei Bo's familiar voice sounded beside Pei Qian and the other two.
Pei Qian, who was propping her chin in her hands, widened her eyes. "Really?"
The cyan-clad boy, lying on the roof basking in the sun, rubbed his chin. "I think Wei Bo is bluffing. He's just bored and messing with us."
The pink-dressed girl sitting next to Pei Qian said softly, "Mr. Wei probably wouldn't lie about something like this, right?"
Pei Qian suddenly stood up, clenched her fists, and gently bumped them together. "My master is really elusive, isn't he? Catching us all off guard. Impressive, don't you think?"
The pink-dressed girl covered her mouth and giggled.
The cyan-clad boy said impatiently, "Impressive my ass. We've been waiting here in vain for days. Watch me ask him for a red envelope as soon as I see him. If I get one less, I'll really get angry with Chen Ping'an."
Pei Qian turned to look at the cyan-clad boy, one small hand resting on the handle of her bamboo knife and sword. She said earnestly, "Friends are friends, but heaven and earth are vast, and my master is the greatest. If you keep being so disrespectful and always trying to take advantage of my master, I'll have to take your dog head."
She spoke with an air of maturity, which was typical of Pei Qian.
Probably because she was young and liked to say big and strange things, it was hard to tell which of Pei Qian's words were sincere and which were just thoughtless chatter.
The cyan-clad boy rolled his eyes. "With that lousy martial arts of yours?"
Pei Qian shook her head. "I'm close with the old cook. I'll ask him to beat you to death first, then I'll take your dog head. I'm not wrong."
The pink-dressed girl was a bit nervous, afraid that the two would come to blows over a disagreement.
Although they often bickered and argued, they had never actually fought. They preferred "verbal duels," using their tongues to describe mountain-moving and sea-overturning divine arts to compete.
The cyan-clad boy weighed the strength of a Far Traveling Realm martial artist, the relationship between the old cook and Pei Qian, and the fact that Wei Bo, that snob, seemed to think highly of Pei Qian. He was filled with distress and immediately jumped up. His face full of flattery, he said, "Woman warrior Pei, why can't you take a joke? Chen Ping'an is your master, but he's also my master. We're one family. Good fortune comes from harmony. Why talk about dog heads? Besides, I'm not a dog. I'm a great flood dragon whose shoulders have been patted by the three Daoist Patriarchs several times. Who in Bead Abyss Cave Heaven or Longquan Prefecture could do that? With my heroic spirit, you should respect me a bit more. Don't say such hurtful things anymore. It's childish. Not good."
Pei Qian said seriously, "I'm not joking. We martial artists, once we spit, it's a nail!"
The cyan-clad boy grinned cheekily. "I know, I know."
The pink-dressed girl breathed a sigh of relief.
At least they hadn't fallen out. Otherwise, she really wouldn't have known how to be a peacemaker.
The three of them skimmed over the rooftops of Red Candle Town like dragonflies touching water. Soon they left the town and entered the mountains. A large black snake lurking in an uninhabited area slithered out, its belly leaving a deep trail. The momentum was astonishing. Pei Qian was the first to leap onto the head of the Luopo Mountain black snake. She sat cross-legged, placing her bamboo knife and sword on her knees.
The pink-dressed girl sat in the middle of the snake's back.
The cyan-clad boy stood on the snake's tail, swaying slightly. But when he looked at the slender back of that dark girl, a shadow fell over his heart. In that moment just now, he had felt that innate pressure from the dark girl again.
This unpleasant feeling unsettled him.
The first time he had noticed something strange about Pei Qian was in the mountains. They had been chasing and blocking that wild dog that had become a spirit. Pei Qian was covered in grass and wood debris, with a few small bloody scratches on her face from tree branches. When they finally cornered that "wild dog," she didn't seem to notice the minor injuries. Her eyes were fixed solely on the cornered dog, her eyes glowing. Her thumb pressed on the knife handle as she slowly pushed the knife out of its sheath. She crouched, staring intently at the wild dog. The bamboo knife came out an inch, and her gaze grew a degree more intense.
From that moment on, the cyan-clad boy no longer regarded Pei Qian as an innocent little girl.
He was even a bit puzzled. How did the upright Chen Ping'an end up with such a little freak as a disciple? And his first disciple at that?
The black snake, originally from the Checkerboard Hill, was very familiar with the way back.
Pei Qian, the cyan-clad boy, and the pink-dressed girl each had their own thoughts.
Pei Qian tapped the black snake's head with the bottom of the knife sheath and frowned. "Don't slack off. Hurry up. Otherwise, one day when I master the Fierce Blade Sutra, I'll use you as a practice target."
The black snake "beneath her" had no choice but to speed up.
Back at Luopo Mountain.
Chen Ping'an returned to the bamboo building, his emotions a mix of a hundred feelings.
Along the way, Wei Bo and Chen Ping'an had finished their necessary conversations. Using his innate divine ability of teleportation as a mountain god, Wei Bo had returned to Piyun Mountain.
Shi Rou watched Chen Ping'an's back as he climbed to the second floor. She hesitated for a moment, then moved a bamboo chair to sit under the eaves. She was very curious about the relationship between Chen Ping'an and that old man surnamed Cui.
The old man didn't seem like a pure martial artist, more like a retired old Confucian scholar. Wei Bo and Zhu Lian seemed to have an unspoken agreement not to say much about him in front of her. They all acted as if the old man didn't exist.
At first, the old man had wanted to take Pei Qian under his wing. But as soon as he gently pinched her muscles and bones, Pei Qian had rolled on the ground, her face a mess of tears and snot, looking pitifully at the old man. The old man had a sour expression, as if he had stepped in dog shit. While the old man was lost in thought, Pei Qian had tiptoed away. She hadn't gone near the bamboo building for several days after that, wandering aimlessly in the mountains. Later, she had simply left the western mountains and gone to the pastry shop on Riding Dragon Alley, setting herself up as a little shopkeeper. She was determined not to see that old man. After that, the old man surnamed Cui had given up on Pei Qian. Sometimes he would stand on the second floor, gazing at the scenery. If his gaze happened to fall on Pei Qian, he would look as if he had seen a young phoenix living happily in a chicken coop, which made the old man, who always dressed in a Confucian robe, a bit helpless.
Chen Ping'an knocked and entered.
The old man surnamed Cui was sitting cross-legged. He opened his eyes and studied Chen Ping'an.
Chen Ping'an sat opposite the old man, carrying the sword [Sword Immortal] on his back and the Nourish Sword Gourd hanging at his waist.
The old man found the sword a bit irritating. The Nourish Sword Gourd was a little better. A young man in the jianghu, drinking a little, wasn't so bad. "You relied on these external things to leave that filthy place alive?"
Chen Ping'an said, "I can't say 'relied on,' but without this sword, I really wouldn't have made it. I almost got killed by an Upper Five Realm rogue cultivator on Green Gorge Isle in Bookcase Lake."
The old man sneered. "If he had really wanted to kill you, having this sword or not wouldn't have mattered."
Chen Ping'an said, "When it was a question of whether to kill or not, without this sword, the likelihood of being killed would have been much greater."
The old man frowned in displeasure.
Chen Ping'an said slowly, "On the martial path, of course, one must pursue 'purity.' But I don't think it's good to deliberately put oneself in life-and-death situations again and again just for the sake of a perfect 'purity.' Even if one survives once, twice, three times, eventually there will be an obstacle one cannot overcome. Then death is death. I believe the purity of practicing boxing must first be purer in cultivating the heart than that of cultivators in the mountains. One must first achieve an unblemished state of mind. When one throws a punch, it is inevitably mixed with many external things. Only afterward can one have the chance to shed them. This is the foundation of martial purity. Otherwise, the martial path is already long and difficult, full of obstacles, and there are dead ends ahead. If one still likes to tell oneself 'death is nothing,' how can one go far?"
The old man clenched his fists on his knees, leaned forward slightly, and sneered. "What's this? After wandering outside for a few years, you think you're a big shot, qualified to talk big and spout nonsense to me?"
As the old man leaned forward just slightly, the air on the second floor of the bamboo building instantly filled with a surging fist intent, like a flood, rushing towards Chen Ping'an.
Even Shi Rou outside the bamboo building could feel this overwhelming momentum, like a dam about to burst.
Chen Ping'an sat still, unmoved—in form, in mind, and in body.
A fierce gale seemed to blow inside the room.
Chen Ping'an slid backward continuously, but he remained straight-backed. Even when his back touched the wall, he didn't change his sitting posture in the slightest.
The old man sighed, a look of pity in his eyes. "Chen Ping'an, after a trip to Bookcase Lake, are you already so afraid of death? Aren't you curious why you've been unable to naturally break through the bottleneck of the Fifth Realm? Do you really think it's because of your own suppression? Or do you dare not delve into the real reason?"
Chen Ping'an remained silent.
The old man looked at the gaunt young man leaning against the wall. "Fear of death is fear of death. You just don't dare admit it. Of course, you have ten thousand reasons for fearing death. I won't laugh at you for that. But the interesting thing about the world is that whether it's martial arts or cultivation, it doesn't care whether your reasoning is sound. So your reasoning is correct, but unfortunately, you can't use a correct reasoning to convince your own heart. Now you want to learn the sword. This obsession is getting deeper and deeper. I suspect that during these years in Bookcase Lake, you often had thoughts swirling unbidden, fleeting and shallow, but you were unaware. One is that you feel your martial arts aren't strong enough; the other is that sword immortals seem too dashing. This is human nature. You've never seen me truly fight, but you have been to the Sword Qi Great Wall. You must have seen more than one or two sword immortals with your own eyes."
Chen Ping'an seemed to want to refute, but he hesitated.
The old man laughed. "Back then, when I fed you punches, I threw too many. Each punch was measured. I paved your Third Realm martial path very smoothly. So although you did suffer a lot of pain, the road was... gentle. That was my skill—not damaging your physical foundation in the slightest, let alone harming your heart. But the grace of the sword immortals you saw will not care about a little martial artist's state of mind. Sword intent spans a thousand miles, soaring through the stars and parting the clouds. It's like casually slapping big holes in the path of your heart. And you're a half-baked scholar who likes to introspect, who often looks back to see if you've gone wrong. Who would have thought that every time you look back, you unconsciously see those few holes, like staring into an abyss or a deep well. You fall deep into them, unable to extricate yourself."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "I realized this in Old Dragon City. The sword strike of the sword immortal Zuo You at Dragon Trench had a great impact on me. Coupled with Wei Jin's earlier sword strike that tore the sky, and Fan Junmao's sword strike through the clouds to Osmanthus Island in Old Dragon City..."
When Chen Ping'an said this, his expression became solemn. "But after entering Bookcase Lake, it wasn't like I was unaware, as you said, senior. On the contrary, I was consciously trying to eliminate this influence bit by bit."
The old man laughed uproariously. "Throwing pebbles into a well, always being careful not to make a splash at the bottom—can you fill it up?"
Chen Ping'an suddenly understood. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked, "May I ask, senior, what should I do?"
The old man said sarcastically, "It seems that the trip to Bookcase Lake not only left you haggard, but also rusted your once decent brain."
Chen Ping'an just stared at the old man.
The old man was silent for a moment. "Fortunately, some things haven't been completely lost. Otherwise, you'd really be beyond saving."
The old man raised one fist. "Practice martial arts."
He raised his other hand, two fingers pressed together. "Practice the sword."
Then he put his hands down, stood up, and looked down at Chen Ping'an. "Even if you can do both, how do you distinguish primary and secondary? Once you distinguish, how do you decide the order in the present? You haven't figured anything out. It's all muddled. You've been wandering aimlessly outside the wide-open gate, smugly telling yourself that it's not that you can't break through the bottleneck, but that you just don't want to. On the other hand, breaking into the Sixth Realm is indeed simple for you. But it's like a man with a crotch full of shit entering a house. He mistakenly thinks that once inside, he can change into clean clothes. In reality, he's brought the shit into the house. It's not on his body, but it's still in the house. Fortunately, you fumbled and didn't break through. Otherwise, if you had broken from the Fifth Realm into the Sixth Realm in this state, would you have the nerve to come up to this second floor to see me, covered in shit and piss?"
The old man lightly stomped his foot.
Chen Ping'an's back was pressed so hard against the wall by the overwhelming fierce gale that he had to use his elbows to brace against the bamboo wall, struggling to keep the back of his head from touching it.
A stream of pure true qi inside him writhed through his acupoints like a fire dragon.
The old man squinted, remaining where he was, but suddenly raised a foot and kicked in the direction of Chen Ping'an's forehead. With a loud bang, Chen Ping'an's head slammed hard against the wall. That pure true qi inside him also came to an abrupt halt, as if bearing the weight of a mountain, crushing the fire dragon to the ground.
The old man clicked his tongue. "Chen Ping'an, have you really never thought about how you managed to hold on even though you haven't practiced boxing for three years? You should know that fist intent can still self-temper even when not practicing boxing. But can your body hold up? Do you really think you're a Golden Body Realm martial artist? Have you never asked yourself?"
Chen Ping'an had difficulty breathing, his face contorted.
He had known that returning to the bamboo building this time would come with hardship, but he hadn't expected it to be so direct.
But the old man's question made Chen Ping'an feel like "reining in on the brink of the precipice." His mind suddenly came to a halt, temporarily setting aside the suppression of the old man's fist intent. He calmed his mind, gathered his qi, and focused on thinking about this question he had vaguely pondered before but glossed over.
The old man raised his foot again and stomped towards Chen Ping'an's abdomen against the wall. A wisp of fist intent Qi precisely struck that extremely fine true qi of the fire dragon.
Chen Ping'an vaguely sensed that from the fire dragon's head, tail, and four claws, there suddenly burst forth three sounds like firecrackers or spring thunder at the door of his heart.
The old man said, "There is obviously a cultivator who secretly nurtured this pure true qi within you using a highly sophisticated and unique method. If I'm not mistaken, it must be a Daoist master. They planted three seeds of flame in the head of the true qi fire dragon as a 'heavenly palace inner courtyard' of Daoism. Using the method of fire refining, they helped you open the joints of the fire dragon's spine inch by inch, allowing you to hope for a glorious radiance of bone structure. They allowed you to skip the Sixth Realm and start building the foundation of the Golden Body Realm ahead of time. The effect is like the 'golden jade form' that cultivators pursue. The scale isn't too large, but it's clever and wonderful, with excellent timing. Speak. Who is it?"
Chen Ping'an looked completely bewildered.
Since the old man had already seen through the origins, he no longer made things difficult for Chen Ping'an. He withdrew his momentum. Chen Ping'an sat against the wall, drenched in sweat.
Finally, a flash of inspiration struck Chen Ping'an. He smiled bitterly. "I once met a friend's master, whose Dao title is Fire Dragon True Man. Now that I think about it, when we parted, that Daoist, whose robe was embroidered with a fire dragon, did indeed stretch out his finger and make a few empty points at me."
The barefoot old man frowned. "Why would this old immortal give you such a gift?"
On the path of cultivation, fortune and misfortune are intertwined. One must be vigilant.
Chen Ping'an wiped his sweat and smiled. "I had only given that friend a small seal personally carved by a Grand Heavenly Master of Dragon Tiger Mountain."
The old man nodded. "Cultivators at the mountain peaks don't like to owe favors. They are afraid of karmic entanglements. You gave the seal, and he returned the favor. That makes sense."
Then the old man suddenly asked, "'Only'?"
Before Chen Ping'an could say anything, the old man kicked out. Chen Ping'an's forehead felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer. He hit the wall and passed out cold. The old man didn't even give Chen Ping'an a chance to complain silently.
The old man snorted. "So young, yet so spiritless. You deserve a beating."
Another kick sent Chen Ping'an's body crashing into the wall. He hit the ground and bounced. Just as the pain brought him a moment of clarity, another wave of pain knocked him unconscious again.
From beginning to end, the old man didn't bother to hide his aura or his words.
Under the bamboo building's eaves, the ghost woman Shi Rou sat uneasily on a small green bamboo chair. She swallowed hard and suddenly felt that, compared to Chen Ping'an, who was being beaten to death as soon as he climbed the stairs, her years on Luopo Mountain had been a life of bliss.