Chapter 468: Riding a Sword to the Ancestral Hall

Chapter 468: Riding a Sword to the Ancestral Hall

(Hey, didn't expect this, did you?)

The young swordsman in green robes with a sword on his back was once again traveling through the familiar low mountain range in the Colored Garment Kingdom. Compared to when he had traveled with Zhang Shanfeng back then, this place, which had once been a ghostly domain devoid of life, now had no trace of yin or baleful aura. Though it wasn't some blessed land of abundant spiritual energy, it was still a place of green mountains and clear waters, far better than before. Following his memories, he pressed on and finally arrived at a familiar old residence in the night. Two stone lions still guarded the main gate, but there were some changes: now couplets were hung on the doors, and colorful door gods were pasted up.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently.

An elderly woman, bent over and holding a lantern, opened the door with some difficulty. She saw the young man who had taken off his bamboo hat, his face beaming with a bright smile. He was quite tall, a bit thin, and carried a sword on his back. He looked like a wandering swordsman from afar.

The old woman's face was pale, which was indeed frightening in the dead of night.

She tried not to startle the visitor, since the residence had not only overcome its crisis but had even turned misfortune into fortune. There was no longer any need to deliberately scare off ordinary mortals to avoid involving them.

The old woman asked softly, "Young master, are you looking for lodging?"

The young man laughed. "Not only lodging, but also some wine, and a big bowl of stir-fried winter bamboo shoots with meat as a snack to go with it."

The old woman was stunned for a moment, then tears streamed down her face. She asked in a trembling voice, "Could it be Young Master Chen?"

The visitor was none other than Chen Ping'an, who had come south alone.

Chen Ping'an smiled and asked, "How has your health been, old mother?"

The old woman quickly grabbed Chen Ping'an's hand, as if afraid he would leave after just meeting. She raised the hand holding the lantern, wiping her tears with her withered knuckles, and said excitedly, "Why have you taken so long to come? How many years has it been? If you hadn't come soon, these old bones of mine wouldn't have held out any longer. How could I still cook for my benefactor? There's wine, all saved for you, Young Master Chen. I've saved it year after year. Drink as much as you want..."

Chen Ping'an tucked his bamboo hat under his arm and gently held the old woman's hands with his own, saying apologetically, "Old mother, I came too late."

The old woman quickly turned her head and shouted, "Master, Mistress! Young Master Chen is here! He really came!"

The man named Yang Huang, who had once turned himself into a ghost servant to extend his wife's life, now wore a Confucian scholar's robe. He hurried to the door with a radiant woman by his side.

When the couple saw Chen Ping'an, they knelt down to kowtow.

No words could repay the great kindness from back then.

Chen Ping'an wanted to stop them, but the old woman gripped his arm tightly, insisting that Chen Ping'an accept this great courtesy.

Chen Ping'an had no choice but to let it happen.

Yang Huang and his wife Yingying stood up.

The old woman finally released his arm.

Yang Huang and his wife exchanged smiles.

The young lad from back then seemed to have grown into a young gentleman in the blink of an eye. He looked a bit haggard and thin, but he seemed even more like a true Sword Immortal. It was wonderful.

They walked into the residence together. Chen Ping'an naturally helped the old woman close the gate. Yang Huang and his wife smiled knowingly. The old woman, whose duty had been taken over, grumbled a little, saying that such rough work didn't require much effort and certainly didn't need to trouble Young Master Chen.

The old woman said she would go to the kitchen to light the fire and make a midnight snack. Chen Ping'an said it was too late and suggested doing it tomorrow. But the old woman wouldn't hear of it. The wife said she would also cook a few dishes herself; it would be a simple welcome feast for Young Master Chen.

Yang Huang led Chen Ping'an to the familiar main hall to sit. Along the way, he recounted what had happened after Chen Ping'an left.

It was all good news.

Yang Huang, who had nearly fallen into the demonic path back then, had now managed to return to the path of cultivation. Although his dao foundation had been delayed and his future prospects were limited, compared to his previous state of being neither human nor ghost, it was like heaven and earth. It should be noted that Yang Huang had originally been nurtured as a future Golden Core Earth Immortal within the Divine Proclamation Sect. After this change in circumstances, he had willingly abandoned his dao for a love trial. He knew the gains and losses for himself and had never regretted it.

As for his wife, who had originally been "detained" in the embroidered tower, she had not only regained her appearance but had even been luckier than her husband on the path of cultivation, breaking through to a higher realm. Now she could keep her true body in the backyard tower while her yin spirit roamed at night, even enjoying spring outings and autumn walks without any hindrance. She was no different from an ordinary secular woman, no longer suffering day and night from the torment of heavenly winds and the agitation of her soul.

Yang Huang asked about the young Daoist Zhang Shanfeng and the big-bearded blade-wielder Xu Yuanxia. Chen Ping'an told him everything.

Chen Ping'an also asked about the Prefect of Rouge Commandery and the official's son, Liu Gaohua. Yang Huang told him what he knew: that Prefect Liu had been promoted a few years ago and had become the governor of Qing Prefecture in the Colored Garment Kingdom, a high official in charge of a region, bringing glory to his family. Moreover, his daughter was now a direct disciple of the Divine Proclamation Sect. Prefect Liu's promotion to governor might not be unrelated to this.

As for Liu Gaohua, he had come to the residence twice in recent years. Compared to his former debauchery, when he liked to use the excuse of indulging in scenic tours and was unwilling to take the imperial examinations, he had now mended his ways. However, he had performed poorly in the previous metropolitan examination and was still only a provincial graduate. So during his second visit, he had drunk a lot of sorrowful wine and grumbled a great deal, saying that his father had decreed that if he couldn't pass the jinshi examination, he might as well marry a wife and settle down.

Chen Ping'an also asked about the old fisherman, a cultivator. Yang Huang said it was a coincidence: the old gentleman had just returned from the capital and was in Rouge City. Moreover, he had heard that the old man had taken in a female disciple named Zhao Luan, who had excellent aptitude. But fortune and misfortune were intertwined, and the old gentleman had some troubles. It was said that a leading immortal master from the mountains of the Colored Garment Kingdom had taken a liking to Zhao Luan and hoped the old gentleman would give up his disciple. He had promised heavy gifts and even invited the old fisherman to be an honored guest at his sect, but the old gentleman had refused.

Chen Ping'an listened quietly and then asked, "What is the reputation of this immortal master, and what realm is he in?"

Yang Huang, even though he had been a ghost servant for many years and had damaged his soul and cultivation foundation, was still a favored son of heaven from the Divine Proclamation Sect. Now that he had no burdens, he had no fear when discussing the top immortal master of the Colored Garment Kingdom. He laughed, "Probably because he entered the Dragon Gate realm a few years ago, he became a bit complacent. The whole sect became restless, and they started taking in many new disciples indiscriminately. A sect that once had a decent reputation is no longer what it used to be."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "I understand. I'll look into it a bit more."

Yang Huang smiled. "What I said is just hearsay. Don't take it as absolute."

Wine and dishes were brought to the table.

The wine was a fine brew made with great care, and the dishes were colorful and aromatic.

The wife and the old woman also sat down. This residence didn't have so many rigid rules.

Perhaps hoping that Chen Ping'an would drink more, the old woman gave the master and mistress small cups characteristic of the Colored Garment Kingdom, but gave Chen Ping'an a large wine bowl.

Yang Huang stood up respectfully and offered a toast to Chen Ping'an. His wife Yingying and the old woman also stood up.

Chen Ping'an had no choice but to hold the wine bowl and stand up as well. He said helplessly, "If this keeps up, I really won't dare to visit next time."

Yang Huang downed his drink in one gulp and joked, "We'll talk about that when you come next time, Benefactor."

Chen Ping'an finished the wine in his bowl in one gulp. The old woman was anxious, afraid he would hurt himself by drinking too fast, and quickly advised, "Drink slower, drink slower. The wine won't run out of the bowl."

Chen Ping'an laughed. "Old mother, my tolerance for alcohol has improved a lot. I'm happy today, so I'll drink a bit more. If I get drunk, I'll just lie down and sleep."

The old woman poured wine into Chen Ping'an's bowl while still murmuring, "Even if your tolerance is good, you still need to drink slowly. Drink slowly, and you can drink more."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "Alright, I'll drink slowly. I'll listen to you, old mother."

Chen Ping'an gave a rough account of his travels, saying that after leaving the Colored Garment Kingdom, he went to the Comb Water Kingdom, then took an immortal ferry along the Dragon Path to the Old Dragon City. From there, he took a cross-continent ferry to the Hanging Sword Mountain. Instead of returning directly to Vase Bottle Continent, he first went to Tung Leaf Continent, then back to Old Dragon City, then to the Green Phoenix Kingdom before finally returning home. He hesitated about mentioning the Sword Qi Great Wall and the Bamboo Scroll Lake, so he didn't. During this time, he picked out some interesting stories to tell them. Yang Huang and his wife listened with great interest. Yang Huang, in particular, who came from a sect of some renown, understood the difficulty of cross-continent travel. As for the old woman, she probably would have loved to hear anything Chen Ping'an said, whether it was about the wonders of the vast world or the trivialities of the market streets.

That night, Chen Ping'an drank over two catties of wine, which was quite a lot. He slept in the same room he had stayed in last time.

The next day, Chen Ping'an mostly spent time with the old woman, basking in the sun and chatting. He was supposed to leave on the third day, but the old woman insisted he stay another day.

At dawn, an autumn rain drizzled down.

Chen Ping'an put on his bamboo hat again and said goodbye to the three at the old residence's gate.

Unable to dissuade the old woman, who said that although the autumn rain seemed light, it could still harm one's health, she insisted that Chen Ping'an wear a green straw raincoat. Chen Ping'an had no choice but to put it on. As for the nurturing sword gourd that had once revealed his "Sword Immortal" identity, it was naturally filled with the old woman's homemade wine.

Before parting, the old woman stood under the eaves, holding Chen Ping'an's hand. "Don't mind me if I talk too much, and then you won't want to come anymore."

Chen Ping'an said softly, "How could that be? I love wine and good food. You don't know, old mother, how many times I've thought about the food and wine here over the years."

The old woman lowered her head and wiped her tears. "That's good, that's good."

Chen Ping'an adjusted his bamboo hat, said a soft farewell, and slowly walked away.

After going a distance, the young swordsman suddenly turned around and walked backward, waving goodbye to the old woman and the couple.

The old woman called out, "Young Master Chen, don't forget next time! Bring that Miss Ning along to visit!"

Chen Ping'an blushed slightly and shouted back, "Will do!"

In the curtain of rain, the bamboo hat, the green raincoat, the young man's figure gradually faded away.

The old woman was deeply saddened. Yang Huang, worried that she couldn't withstand the autumn rain's chill, asked her to go back inside first. Only when the young man's figure was completely out of sight did the old woman return to the residence.

Yingying spoke softly, "Husband?"

Then she felt a bit ashamed and didn't continue. Instead, she apologized, "Husband, don't blame me for being vulgar and mercenary."

The thought in her mind dissipated like smoke. She murmured, "How could I let Young Master Chen worry about such trivial matters? Husband did well not to mention it at all. We truly shouldn't be so insatiable."

Yang Huang held her hand and laughed. "You're doing it for my sake too."

The wife suddenly cheered up and smiled. "Husband, good people will be rewarded, right?"

Yang Huang said, "I can't be sure about other good people, but I hope that Chen Ping'an will be."

Yingying beamed. "I suddenly feel very happy just having Young Master Chen come to our home for a drink."

Yang Huang hummed in agreement and said with emotion, "In autumn, it feels like a spring breeze."

In the curtain of rain.

Chen Ping'an took a slight detour and came to a mountain god temple newly included in the Colored Garment Kingdom's official register. He strode inside.

It was the autumn harvest season, and early in the morning, there were no worshippers at this mountain god temple built on the ruins of a former illicit shrine.

Chen Ping'an took off his bamboo hat, shook off the raindrops, and stepped over the threshold.

He no longer deliberately concealed his fist intent and aura.

The local mountain god immediately manifested his golden body. He was a burly armoured warrior general who stepped out of the painted statue. Somewhat nervous, he clasped his fists and said, "Little god pays respects to the immortal master."

Chen Ping'an smiled slightly. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I came to ask if any cultivators from the nearby immortal mountains are coveting the spiritual energy of that residence."

He spoke neither in the official language of the Colored Garment Kingdom nor in the refined speech of Vase Bottle Continent, but in the Great Li official language.

Nowadays, familiarity with the Great Li official language was a must for all mountain and river deities in central Vase Bottle Continent. The mountain god smiled awkwardly and was about to formulate a proper reply when he realized that the terrifying young sword immortal had already put his bamboo hat back on. "Then I'll trouble the mountain god to look after it a bit."

The mountain god felt as if he had just passed through the gates of hell. He immediately said solemnly, "I wouldn't dare speak of 'looking after.' Rest assured, immortal master. Little god and Yang Huang's couple are neighbors. A close neighbor is better than a distant relative. Little god knows what to do."

Before leaving, Chen Ping'an clasped his fists and reminded with a smile, "Pretend I was never here."

This new mountain god, who had been officially enshrined by the Colored Garment Kingdom's court to guard this blessed land, quickly nodded, understanding in his heart.

If one weren't clever enough, relying solely on meritorious deeds in life and virtuous deeds after death wouldn't be enough to snatch such a lucrative post. For gods ruling over mountains and rivers, it was no different from climbing the ranks in officialdom.

Chen Ping'an left the mountain god temple.

The mountain god paced slowly inside the main hall and finally made up his mind: he would not provoke that residence in the future. No matter how much spiritual energy it had, it wasn't something he could claim a share of.

Chen Ping'an went to Rouge Commandery in the Colored Garment Kingdom. At the city gate, he submitted his travel document, a new household registry document obtained from Wei Bo, of course still identifying him as a native of Dragon Spring Commandery in Great Li.

After asking around, he finally found the location of the old fisherman's residence.

It was a quiet alley where only the sound of rain could be heard.

Chen Ping'an knocked on the door knocker.

Soon, a thin, tall boy with a dull expression came out. When he saw Chen Ping'an, he hesitated, as if unsure of his identity.

Chen Ping'an greeted him with a smile, "Zhao Shuxia."

The boy was overjoyed. "Mr. Chen!"

Chen Ping'an nodded and sized up the tall, thin boy. There wasn't much fist intent, but what was there was pure. For now, he should be a third-tier martial artist, but still quite a way from breaking through. He wasn't the kind of martial arts prodigy that one could see at a glance, like Cen Yuanji. But Chen Ping'an actually preferred Zhao Shuxia's 'intention.' It seemed that Zhao Shuxia had been practicing the six-step standing stance that he had 'stolen' over the years without slacking off.

The boy was the same Zhao Shuxia who had once gripped a firewood knife to protect a little girl.

Zhao Shuxia closed the door and led Chen Ping'an to the back courtyard. Chen Ping'an asked with a smile, "Have you finished the hundred thousand repetitions of that fist stance I taught you back then?"

Zhao Shuxia looked a bit embarrassed, scratched his head, and said, "According to what Mr. Chen said back then, one repetition counts as one punch. Over the years, I haven't dared to slack off, but I've been walking so slowly that I've only done over 163,000 punches."

Chen Ping'an asked, "Have you ever fought in battles or received guidance from a master?"

Zhao Shuxia shook his head. "No."

Chen Ping'an was relieved. If Zhao Shuxia had been tempered by many life-and-death battles, his fist intent would have become smooth, with the edges worn off, and his punches would have become faster and faster. After so many years, he should have done more than just 160,000 punches. But if not, he could only be punching slowly, chipping away like water dripping through stone, making it hard for the stance to speed up. However, Chen Ping'an wasn't worried about this slowness. The fist intent was in the body, like that bowl of wine handed by the old woman. As long as it was held steady, the wine wouldn't spill. Drop by drop, the fist intent stayed on the body. But if the mind was lazy, the fist intent would become frivolous, and the wine would splash everywhere without notice. Then it would be hard to get past the major bottleneck of the third tier. Breaking through from the third tier of body refinement to the third tier of qi refinement is extremely difficult. Chen Ping'an had suffered greatly. Zhu Lu back then couldn't make it through on her own and relied on the ointment from the Yang family apothecary to barely break through. And Yang Old Master's new female disciple broke through entirely on her own. Even though both were female martial artists, the difference in their martial arts futures was like clouds and mud.

Zhao Shuxia led Chen Ping'an to the secluded back courtyard. An old man in Confucian robes and a clever-eyed girl stood side by side under the eaves.

Zhao Shuxia smiled and said, "Mr. Chen is here!"

Chen Ping'an took off his bamboo hat, clasped his fists, and said with a smile, "Greetings, Fisherman Sir."

Then he looked at Zhao Luan, who was just barely old enough to be called a girl. "Luan Luan, long time no see."

The white-haired old Confucian didn't dare to recognize Chen Ping'an at first.

The change was too great.

Although many years had indeed passed, the old Confucian could still hardly superimpose the image of the tall, elegant young man before him with that bamboo trunk-carrying boy from back then.

As for the 'Luan Luan' from back then, her face was now covered in tears, crying and laughing at the same time. She called out in a trembling voice, "Mr. Chen."

For Chen Ping'an.

She couldn't be too grateful or miss him too much.

Over the years, she had always thought of him. From the heart, all the boredom, hardship, grievances, and joy of the path of cultivation would always remind her of that person back then.

Her brother Zhao Shuxia always liked to tease her about it, and as she grew older, she increasingly hid her feelings to avoid his increasingly excessive jests.

Zhao Shuxia, who was usually taciturn, only showed no restraint around Luan Luan, who was like a real sister to him.

The four of them sat down together. Reunions at the old residence meant drinking wine; here, it meant drinking tea.

The tea contained strands of spiritual energy, prepared for Zhao Luan's cultivation. For cultivators, the better their talent, the smoother their path, but their daily needs consumed mountains of gold.

The old fisherman, who had fought demons with them in Rouge Commandery back then, was surnamed Wu, given name Shuowen, an old Confucian cultivator. Chen Ping'an had nothing but respect for him; otherwise, he wouldn't have dared to entrust Zhao Shuxia and Luan Luan to him.

It was clear that the old Confucian had indeed lived up to his trust in treating Luan Luan and Zhao Shuxia.

Moreover, Chen Ping'an felt a bit guilty over the years. As his experience in the martial world grew, he understood more about the evil in people's hearts, and he realized that his so-called good deeds back then might have actually brought considerable trouble to the old Confucian.

Once one steps onto the mountain path of cultivation.

One is no longer free.

Not being in the martial world meant avoiding many disputes and struggles that could involve life and death. Not being on the mountain path was unfortunate, because one could never experience the wondrous and bizarre scenes along the road to eternal life, and could not live long and carefree. But it was also a kind of peaceful fortune.

Moreover, the better Zhao Luan's talent, the greater the burden on the old Confucian's shoulders and heart. How could he not delay Zhao Luan's cultivation? How could he procure immortal techniques that matched her talent? How could he ensure that Zhao Luan could cultivate with peace of mind, without worrying about the cost of immortal money?

Before, Chen Ping'an would never have thought about these things.

Only by traveling ten thousand miles and seeing a hundred kinds of people and a thousand events can one truly understand the difficulty of being a 'good person' and empathize with the countless sufferings of the world.

So before entering the Colored Garment Kingdom, Chen Ping'an first went to Ancient Elm Kingdom and found the Elm Wood Elf, the kingdom's grand preceptor, with whom he had already formed a deadly enmity.

He was worried that this high-ranking elf would still cause trouble for that old residence. The assassin ambush in the Comb Water Kingdom back then was still fresh in his memory.

Arriving at the capital on their turf was simple. Chen Ping'an went straight to the door, met him, and knocked him down with three punches.

He inflicted considerable injuries, wasting at least thirty years of diligent cultivation.

Then he asked if he still wanted to keep entangling and had the guts to send assassins after him.

The Ancient Elm Kingdom's grand preceptor, who appeared as a scholar, was already covered in blood, lying on the ground. He said he didn't dare.

Because at that moment, two flying swords were hovering: one at his brow, and the other pointing at his heart.

Chen Ping'an then left.

And he deliberately sat at a tea stall outside the capital's main gate, waiting for the grand preceptor's retaliation.

But there was none.

Only then did Chen Ping'an proceed to the Colored Garment Kingdom.

Chen Ping'an took a sip of hot tea and got straight to the point. "Mr. Wu, I heard there's a cultivator in the Colored Garment Kingdom who wants to take Luan Luan as a disciple?"

Wu Shuowen nodded, looking worried. "If that great immortal master truly intends to teach Luan Luan immortal arts, no matter how reluctant I am, I wouldn't ruin her opportunity. But the reason that great immortal master insists on Luan Luan going up the mountain to cultivate is half because he values her talent, and half... well, it's his legitimate son, a depraved libertine of the worst character. He saw Luan Luan at a banquet in the capital. Forget it, such filthy matters are not worth mentioning. If it comes to it, I'll take Luan Luan and Shuxia and leave the central part of Vase Bottle Continent altogether. These ten-plus countries, including the Colored Garment Kingdom, we don't have to stay."

Chen Ping'an asked, "What are the names of that immortal mountain and the father and son? How far is it from Rouge Commandery? In which general direction?"

Wu Shuowen, though puzzled, still answered clearly. One of them was Mount Haze, about 1,200 li from Rouge Commandery, along winding mountain and river paths.

Chen Ping'an drank a bowl of tea, stood up, and smiled, "Then I'll go to Mount Haze's Ancestral Hall first. We'll talk after I come back. It won't take too long."

Wu Shuowen stood up and shook his head. "Young Master Chen, don't be impulsive. This needs careful planning. Mount Haze's protective grand formation is known for its offensive power, and there's a Dragon Gate realm old immortal stationed there..."

Chen Ping'an looked calm and said with a smile, "Don't worry. I'm going to reason with them. If reasoning doesn't work... we'll see."

Some things, Chen Ping'an didn't say out loud.

For the things that could be reasoned about now, one shouldn't keep them bottled up. Reason first, then act. Like Mount Haze. As for those that couldn't be spoken of for now, save them. Like Sunlit Mountain, the Xu clan of Breeze City. One day, they too would be pulled out from underground like an old jar of wine.

As for how to reason, he had both fists and swords.

When he reached that immortal mountain's Ancestral Hall, he wouldn't be wasting breath.

Earlier, at the bamboo tower in Fallen Mountain, he had seen what a tenth-tier martial artist was like through Cui Cheng, and had heard one of the old man's principles, just one sentence.

Drink good wine with reasonable people, throw fast punches at unreasonable people. That is the martial world that should belong to you, Chen Ping'an. Training your fists isn't just for fighting in bed; it's for contending with the entire world, for teaching both on and off the mountain to kowtow when they meet your fist!

Chen Ping'an deeply agreed with the first half. As for the second half, he thought it was debatable.

But at the time, he didn't dare say that in the bamboo tower, afraid of getting beaten up. The old man was in the momentum of a tenth-tier peak, and he was afraid the old man might lose control of his punch and really kill him.

Wu Shuowen clearly still thought it was unwise. Even if the boy... the young man Chen Ping'an had performed extremely steadily and brilliantly in the defense of Rouge Commandery, the opponent was still a Dragon Gate realm old immortal, the leader of a sect, and had now attached himself to the Great Li Iron Cavalry. It was said he was the next Grand Preceptor, enjoying unprecedented glory. How could Chen Ping'an, alone and single-handed, force his way into the sect?

In the martial world, it's often said that the young are stronger, but on the path of cultivation, it's different. Becoming a great cultivator at the Dragon Gate realm, besides cultivation, which of them isn't an old fox? Without backing?

Zhao Shuxia, on the other hand, wasn't too worried. Probably because he thought that Mr. Chen, who taught him boxing, couldn't be too powerful.

And Zhao Luan was even more anxious than her master, Wu Shuowen. Regardless of propriety, she hurried to Chen Ping'an's side, grabbed his sleeve, and said with reddened eyes, "Mr. Chen, don't go!"

Chen Ping'an looked at the old Confucian, then at Zhao Luan, and said helplessly, "I'm not going to die. If I can't win, I'll run."

Zhao Luan's tears burst forth. "Mr. Chen said you were going to reason with them!"

Chen Ping'an was speechless. He gave Zhao Shuxia a look, hoping he would comfort Zhao Luan, but that blockhead just grinned and stood there without moving.

Chen Ping'an sighed. "Alright, let's sit down and drink tea again."

Zhao Luan's eyes were even more misty than the perpetually foggy Mount Haze. "Really?"

Chen Ping'an nodded, and she finally let go of his sleeve, timidly returning to her seat.

Wu Shuowen also sat down and advised, "Young Master Chen, don't rush. I'll just take the two children on a journey through the mountains and rivers."

Chen Ping'an asked, "What about Mr. Wu's family?"

Wu Shuowen said, "Surely a Dragon Gate realm cultivator wouldn't be so shameless."

Chen Ping'an looked at Wu Shuowen.

Wu Shuowen lowered his head and drank tea.

The old Confucian could only sigh inwardly. He knew very well that the so-called journey was just so that Luan Luan and Shuxia wouldn't feel guilty.

Chen Ping'an gently put down his teacup.

In an instant.

Chen Ping'an had vanished from the room.

Wu Shuowen, teacup in hand, was dumbfounded.

Zhao Luan and Zhao Shuxia stared at each other in shock.

They saw that green-robed figure already standing in the courtyard. The sword on his back had unsheathed itself, turning into a golden rainbow that shot into the sky. The man lightly tapped his foot, leaped onto the sword, broke through the rain curtain, and flew north on his sword.

After the old Confucian recovered, he quickly took a sip of tea to calm himself. Since he couldn't stop him, he had no choice but to let it be.

Zhao Luan's eyes were dazed and radiant. She quickly wiped her tears, her face like a pear blossom in the rain, truly moving. No wonder the young master of Mount Haze had fallen in love with her at first sight, despite her young age.

Zhao Shuxia scratched his head and chuckled, "Mr. Chen really is something. Going to someone's Ancestral Hall like he's rushing out to buy a jug of wine."

At a rainy immortal mountain, it was noon, but the downpour was so heavy that it made heaven and earth as dark as deep night.

So when a golden thread appeared at the edge of the sky, it was extremely conspicuous, especially accompanied by a rumbling sound like thunder as it broke through the air.

For the cultivators of Mount Haze, whether blind or deaf, they should all know that a Sword Immortal was visiting their mountain.