# Chapter 484: Northern Juzhou, Nothing Unusual
The woman who was honored as the Empress Dowager of Great Li seemed to finally remember her son Song He beside her, the new emperor of Great Li. She smiled and said, "Young Master Chen, this is my son Song He. This should be your first meeting. I hope you two can interact often in the future. Young Master Chen is a favored son of heaven bearing the military fortunes of our Great Li. Our Great Li established the nation through martial might, so whether it's my uncle or Song He, they both will—and should—treat Young Master Chen with proper courtesy."
The young emperor leaned forward slightly, smiling as he said, "Greetings, Mr. Chen."
There was no trace of him putting on airs as the supreme sovereign.
This trip aboard the ship was an incognito visit, an attempt to befriend so-called reclusive mountain sages. Secular formalities could be set aside for now.
Song He had earned a good reputation among Great Li's civil and military officials in his early years, receiving excellent reviews from both court and commoners. Aside from the Empress Dowager's good teachings, he had indeed performed quite well himself.
Chen Ping'an nodded. "If the opportunity arises, I will definitely visit the capital."
The woman smiled. "The court plans to elevate Longquan from a commandery to a prefecture. Wu Yuan will be promoted accordingly to serve as prefectural governor. As for the vacant commandery governor position, does Young Master Chen have any suitable candidates in mind?"
Chen Ping'an smiled faintly. "Wouldn't it be to choose between County Magistrate Yuan and Supervisor Cao? County Magistrate Yuan is diligent in governance, rewards and punishes clearly, and has governed the county so well that people don't pick up lost items on the roads. Supervisor Cao is close to the people, grasps the major matters while releasing the minor ones, and manages the dragon kiln affairs with outward looseness but inner tightness, leaving no faults at all. Both are good officials. Whichever one is promoted, we ordinary folk of Longquan Commandery will be happy."
The new emperor Song He glanced at Chen Ping'an without revealing any expression.
Was he genuinely stupid or pretending to be?
The two great pillar-of-state surnames, Yuan and Cao, couldn't stop fighting even in the court, let alone on the battlefield. How many generations had they been at odds? Giving a commandery governorship to either side would mean slighting the other. A commandery governor's official rank wasn't actually that high, but offending a pillar-of-state family's pride was no small matter. Even if, hypothetically, the Yuan and Cao family heads had no personal bias and were above reproach, accepting whatever the court decreed, what would their respective loyalists and disciples think? One side pleased, the other aggrieved—wasn't the court just pouring oil on the fire, inviting disaster upon itself?
The woman remained composed, smiling as she said, "Perhaps it's because Young Master Chen is a mountain cultivator who enjoys traveling across the world's mountains and rivers. As such, you haven't had much contact with the two local officials and have no personal friendship with them, so it's hard for you to say much. However, there's another matter where Young Master Chen, by both reason and sentiment, should have some opinions. In the future, when Longquan is elevated to a prefecture, the three City God positions for the prefecture, commandery, and county have yet to be decided. Back then, when the Mountain God of Fallen Mountain was chosen, they didn't consult Young Master Chen beforehand and selected the former Supervisor Song Yuzhang. Although it conformed to ritual law, to be honest, our court's handling of that matter... lacked a bit of human touch. We should have discussed it with Young Master Chen before making the decision. So this time, regarding the three City Gods, Young Master Chen need not have any concerns. I, this woman, and my son Song He, along with the court, all trust Young Master Chen's character and judgment. Consider it as asking Young Master Chen to help Great Li pick out a few pearls that were missed in the vast sea."
The woman continued to persuade, "Young Master Chen is about to travel far again, but Longquan Commandery is ultimately your hometown. Having one or two trustworthy people of your own to look after the mountain peaks, including Fallen Mountain, during ordinary times would let Young Master Chen feel more at ease when you're away from home."
Chen Ping'an shook his head, looking regretful as he said, "I'm really not very familiar with the mountain and river deities, City Gods, Earth Gods, and other heroic spirits who became gods after death around the Lizhu Cave Heaven area. Every time I come and go, I'm always rushing, or else I really would have been selfish once and asked the court for a City God close to me to be stationed in Longquan Commandery. I, Chen Ping'an, came from a humble alleyway, never studied a single day, and am even less familiar with officialdom's rules. I've just been wandering the martial world long enough to understand the vulgar principle that 'the county magistrate is not as good as the current manager.'"
Song He felt a trace of amusement rising in his heart. The words weren't wrong—the only person you, Chen Ping'an, truly knew was the Northern March God Wei Bo, and you two were nearly close enough to share a single pair of pants.
The woman also showed a face full of regret. "The three City God candidates are being fiercely debated in the Ministry of Rites. A decision will be made soon. In fact, the Ministry of Works is already discussing the site selections for the three City God temples, large and small. Young Master Chen has missed this opportunity, which is truly a pity. After all, incense-fire deities like these, once rooted in the mountains and rivers, aren't like government officials who change seats frequently. They won't change for decades at least, sometimes not for centuries."
Chen Ping'an sighed. "I appreciate the court's good intentions. The martial world is vast, the mountains high and rivers long. I hope there will be similar opportunities in the future."
The woman rose slowly, a single movement carrying infinite grace and charm. "Then we won't disturb Young Master Chen's travels and cultivation any longer."
Chen Ping'an stood up as well. "I am neither a sword cultivator now nor a distant-traveling martial artist. On this ship, I cannot escort you far. Please forgive me."
The woman nodded, indicating it was no problem. Turning to Xu Ruo, she smiled gracefully. "Since the ship hasn't left the Vase Continent's territory yet, I imagine my son's and my return journey will be quite safe. Mr. Xu, since you're acquainted with Young Master Chen, why not stay behind to catch up?"
Xu Ruo shook his head and smiled. "No need."
Brief and to the point, without even giving a reason.
But the woman and the new emperor Song He didn't seem to find this offensive at all, as if Mr. Xu's response was only natural.
In the end, Chen Ping'an saw the three of them off to the ship's railing. Near this Skeleton Shoal Linen Clan ship, a massive six-story ship was sailing alongside. In comparison, the already colossal Linen Clan ship seemed quite "slender and graceful." Between the two ships, somehow, a painted "corridor bridge" paved with green mist had been erected, over two zhang wide, filled with immortal aura. Shadowy celestial maidens could be seen dancing gracefully on the corridor pillars, like a passageway from the ancient heavenly court. The three walked on it as if on flat ground. Whenever their soles touched that "blue flagstone path," circles of colored halos would spread out in ripples.
Chen Ping'an didn't move, looking up. That celestial corridor bridge was retracted by an old cultivator in white robes with a tall hat on the opposite ship. With a twist of his wrist, it stood upright in his palm, as small as a seal, then slowly disappeared into his sleeve.
The mother and son's figures vanished at the ship's staircase.
Xu Ruo turned around and leaned against the railing. Chen Ping'an clasped his hands in farewell. The other nodded with a smile in return.
Chen Ping'an returned to his room. He stopped practicing his fists and closed his eyes, as if back in the mountain gate house of Green Gorge Island on Book Compass Lake, playing the role of an accountant.
He began silently calculating accounts.
Some things appeared extremely small but were difficult to investigate. Investigating would alert the enemy, pulling one thread and moving the whole body.
But for some major matters, even those involving the top secrets of Great Li's Song clan, Chen Ping'an could ask Cui Dongshan anything without fear.
However, after carefully calculating, it all came down to one word: wait.
Chen Ping'an opened his eyes and tapped his Sword Nurturing Gourd lightly with his fingers.
That mother and son really didn't need to make this trip, let alone proactively show goodwill.
Perhaps it was about maximizing profit. After the situation changed, the enmity of past mortal enemies had become insignificant in that woman's eyes.
To give an analogy: killing Chen Ping'an would cost ten taels of silver, but winning him over could earn five taels. One out, one in—that was actually a fifteen-tael transaction.
Of course, it could also be a smokescreen. That woman was the type to use full force even when hunting a rabbit. Otherwise, back when killing a second-realm martial artist like Chen Ping'an, she wouldn't have mobilized that group of assassins.
It could also be a test—first determining the depth of Chen Ping'an's strength and his attitude toward that assassination, then the Great Li court would make its decision.
Chen Ping'an's thoughts gradually drifted away.
He thought about many things.
For no reason, he recalled a scene he had envied deeply as a child—watching from afar as children his age gathered near Immortal's Grave, playing together. They liked to play the role of heroes and villains, black and white clearly separated. Of course, there were also those playing house as husband and wife, mostly rich boys as the husband and pretty girls as the wife, while others played servants, maids, and stewards. It all looked very realistic, lively and bustling.
Growing up and looking back at first glance, it seemed full of childlike innocence and fun. Looking again, it wasn't so beautiful anymore. It seemed that even in childhood, children had already learned the lessons they would use for the rest of their lives.
Chen Ping'an took off his Sword Nurturing Gourd, drank some wine, and walked toward the observation deck.
The night was heavy. The ship had just passed by Great Li's old Northern March mountain peak. The mountain's terrain was extremely steep, much like Great Li's style of doing things.
The bright moon hung in the sky.
Chen Ping'an opened his eyes wide, looking at the mountain and the moon.
"The mountain is near, the moon is far, so the moon seems small; thus one says the mountain is larger than the moon. If someone had eyes as large as the sky, they would see that the mountain is high and the moon is even broader."
---
In a beautifully adorned room covered with the most exquisite carpets from the State of Colorful Garments, the woman poured herself a cup of tea. She suddenly frowned slightly—the stool was a bit too high, causing her feet to dangle off the ground. But her greatest strength in this life was adaptability. She lifted her heels even higher and lightly tapped her toes on the precious carpet woven by a female cultivator from the Immortal Mansion of Colorful Garments. She smiled and asked, "What do you think?"
Song He thought for a moment and replied, "He's someone who won't be swayed by favors or bribes."
The woman took a sip of tea, savoring it. It wasn't as good as the spring tea from Eternal Spring Palace. That place was terrible in every way—colder than an abandoned palace, full of women who couldn't even gossip properly, dull and boring. Only the tea was good, which made those years of cultivating in mountain huts less unbearable. She deliberately took another sip and chewed a tea leaf in her mouth. In her view, all flavors in the world had to be built on bitterness before one could slowly taste the good. After swallowing the finely chewed tea leaves, she said slowly, "Without some skill and temperament, how could a lowborn brat raised on chicken shit and dog piss from Clay Bottle Alley have survived to this day? How old is he? A mere twenty-one-year-old, and what a fortune he's amassed?"
Song He didn't care much about some mountain lord of Fallen Mountain. It was just that his mother insisted on dragging him along, so he had to come.
Being emperor—what blessings to enjoy, what troubles to bear—Song He had understood it all since childhood. Just the endless ceremonial rigmarole in one year after ascending the throne alone was staggering. Fortunately, Song He handled it with such familiarity that it didn't seem fitting for a new monarch. No wonder those old fossils at court who didn't think highly of him were straining their presbyopic eyes trying to find fault with him. They probably had sore eyes by now without spotting a single flaw, so they could only swallow their objections and accept him.
Song He smiled. "If I had those opportunities, I wouldn't be much worse off than Chen Ping'an."
The woman asked, "Do you really think so?"
Song He nodded with a smile.
The woman squinted, twirling the exquisitely glazed teacup that was the color of plum green. "Think carefully before answering me."
Song He quickly raised both hands, grinning. "It was just me talking out of spite. Mother, please don't be upset."
But the woman didn't resume her usual doting expression. When they were alone, she never treated Song He as some Great Li emperor. She said sharply, "Would Qi Jingchun have chosen you?! Can you, Song He, endure hardship?!"
Song He shook his head. "I cannot."
"In some areas, if you're inferior to someone, then you're inferior. No one in the world excels at everything and takes all the advantages!"
The woman said angrily, "Since you were born to enjoy blessings, then you should focus on learning how to enjoy them properly. That's something countless people in the world envy but can never have. Don't forget, it's never a simple matter! If you think that just because you've finally become the Great Li emperor, you can slack off even a little, I'll say this now: the day you lose your mind and lose that dragon throne, Song Mu will take it over, and I'll still be the Great Li Empress Dowager. What will you be then?! Others may not know the truth, or even if they do, they won't dare mention it. But will your teacher Cui Chan forget? Will your uncle Song Changjing forget? When they want to bring it up, can you and I stop them?"
Song He said guiltily, "It was my fault, son. I shouldn't have gotten carried away."
In the past, the woman would have comforted him with a few kind words. But today was different. Her son's meek obedience seemed to make her even angrier.
She slammed the teacup down heavily, tea splashing everywhere, her face cold. "How did I teach you back then? Deep within the palace, it's hard to see the outside world. So I begged His Majesty until he allowed the Imperial Preceptor to teach you personally. Not only that, whenever I had the chance, I would secretly take you out of the palace to walk among the capital's streets. I did this so you could see for yourself how poor families rise, how wealthy families fall, how fools survive, and how the clever die! Everyone has their own way of living and their own strengths and weaknesses. I wanted you to understand the complexity and truth of this world!"
"Do you still remember why I hit you for the first time in my life? Common folk in the streets joked that the emperor must use a golden shoulder pole at home and eat several large plates of steamed buns for a meal. You heard that and found it amusing, laughing until your mouth couldn't close. Was it funny?! Do you know? That Embrothed Tiger who was traveling with us at the time looked at you exactly the same way you looked at those commoners!"
"A dragon throne, a dragon robe—can you eat them? When you're truly at the end of your rope, would they be worth more than a few steamed buns? How did the Imperial Preceptor teach you? Throughout the world, those who accomplish great things must have their solid foundation in obscure, dark places. The more they align with worldly common sense, the harder they are to shake! Who did the Imperial Preceptor use as an example? The old master of the Guan clan, who seems drowsy all year round! Who was the counterexample? The Yuan and Cao clan ancestors, who seemed to have glorious names in history but were flashy without substance! Such clear truths about 'how villains live well,' and you, Song He, dare not take them to heart?!"
The woman stood up, fury overwhelming her. "Those few broken books secretly kept by kings and emperors everywhere, the so-called 'Emperor's Teacher's Books,' and the 'Art of the Southern Face' that dare not see the light of day—what are they worth?! Are the principles in them not good? Are they wrong? No! They couldn't be better! They couldn't be more correct! But do you truly understand why, among so many great and small emperors and kings on the Vase Continent, only a few remain? How many became enlightened rulers who reigned without governing? It's because those sitting on the dragon throne don't have the vision, temperament, or skills in managing people to support the principles in those books! When the Embrothed Tiger taught his practical learning back then, which sentence, which great principle, didn't start from the most inconspicuous, trivial matter?"
The woman's face was ashen as she pointed at the young Great Li emperor's face. "Today you compare yourself to a lowborn in enduring hardship and think you're better than him. Tomorrow, will you compare yourself to your elder brother in merit and also think yourself greater? Compare yourself to the Imperial Preceptor in learning, to your uncle in martial arts, and think you're not lacking either? Who gave you the audacity, Song He, to be so arrogant? Was it me, who has spent my whole life keeping my tail between my legs? Was it the late emperor, who was wronged by the Lu clan of the Central Plains and died young? Or was it that Imperial Preceptor who looks down on you, his disciple, from the bottom of his heart?!"
Song He stood up as well, remaining silent.
There was no resentment or complaint—only humble acceptance of the lesson.
Even though he was now the man sitting on that dragon throne.
The woman sighed mournfully, slumping back into her chair. Staring at her son, who was reluctant to sit down, she said with plaintive eyes, "He'er, do you think your mother is annoying?"
Only then did Song He sit down, saying with a light smile, "If I weren't worried about public criticism at court, I would have had you listen to court affairs from behind the curtain and enjoy yourself. That way, you could leave more records in the history books."
The woman scolded with a laugh, "Nonsense!"
Song He, Song Mu. Harmony and harmony bring prosperity to the family.
A common household, an imperial house—the threshold differences were as vast as heaven and earth, but the principle was actually the same.
It was just that back then, the woman had to make a difficult choice: keep one and abandon the other. For the sake of the Song clan's national fortune, she had to send one of her sons, still a swaddled infant, to that Lizhu Cave Heaven. After a "sickly death," his name—which should have been Song He's "Song Mu"—was scratched from the ancestral temple registry. The second son not only got to stay in the capital but also received the name Song He and the identity of the eldest son.
Thus came Song Jixin of Clay Bottle Alley. Thus came Song Yuzhang's departure from the capital to serve as the kiln supervisor. After his success, he returned to the capital to report to the Ministry of Rites, then went back again. In the end, he was beheaded by that general formerly under the Lu clan who now served the woman. His head was placed in a box and sent before the late emperor. The late emperor spent a night alone in the imperial study, reviewing a file until dawn. Later, he issued an imperial decree instructing the Ministry of Rites to enfeoff Song Yuzhang as the new Mountain God of Fallen Mountain. The divine statue in the temple had only its head gilded. Thus, in Longquan Commandery, both on the mountains and below, the name "Golden-Headed Mountain God" came to be.
The Ancestral Temple, responsible for compiling the jade registry and managing the directory of the Great Li Song clan's imperial lineage, had several old men die over twenty years ago. Twenty years later, last year and this year, another batch died—all "deaths from old age." Back then, it had been the late emperor's decree that they had to die. This time, it was these old bones who had grown tired of living and sought death themselves. They had gambled on a prince with no foundation, trying to overturn the case and argue over the "order of seniority."
Song He took his leave.
The woman drank tea alone.
Her mood was complicated.
Song Jixin, or "Song Mu," was still her own flesh and blood. How could there be no feelings?
Back then, holding her swaddled eldest son, gazing at his tender, adorable face, she was covered in tears, murmuring, "Who asked you to be the elder brother? Who asked you to be born into the Great Li Song clan? Who asked you to be stuck with such a heartless pair of parents?"
The late emperor had been present at the time, showing no anger at all.
Over the years, after she once overstepped her bounds to peek at secret files and was scolded by the late emperor, she had completely given up. She treated that son as if he were already dead.
In the end, the more guilt she felt, the more afraid she became to face Song Jixin, afraid to hear anything about him.
Even more afraid that one day, he might harm her "only son" raised by her side, leaving her with nothing in the end.
That Song Yuzhang, who had served as kiln supervisor for many years, could have avoided death. If nothing else, he could have died later and more honorably. For example, according to the late emperor's earliest arrangements, Song Yuzhang would have spent a few years in the Ministry of Rites, then transferred to a pure but powerless sinecure position. His rank would certainly have been high. The top nine ministers including the six ministry heads—the late emperor definitely wouldn't have given him those. But the minor nine ministers were surely within his grasp—for instance, the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, or the positions in the Court of State Ceremonial and the Left and Right Spring Palace Chancellors. It would have been equivalent to house arrest, enjoying blessings for a decade or two, and after death receiving a high-ranking, beautiful posthumous title. That would have counted as the Great Li Song clan treating a meritorious official well.
It must be understood that Song Yuzhang had handled the matter of the covered corridor bridge from beginning to end. Buried there was the Great Li Song clan's biggest scandal. If it had leaked out and been seized upon by the Lakeview Academy, it could even have affected Great Li's pattern of annexing the Vase Continent.
Thus, the late emperor had been more than merciful and generous toward Song Yuzhang.
But the worst offense was that in the Lizhu Cave Heaven town, rumors had already spread that Song Jixin was the illegitimate son of this Supervisor Song Yuzhang. It became common knowledge. Yet Song Yuzhang still didn't know restraint, couldn't hide his emotions, and dared to show signs of father-son feelings toward Song Jixin. What made Song Yuzhang most deserving of death was that Song Jixin, deep in his heart, despite his resentment, genuinely hoped Song Yuzhang was his biological father. The secret files recorded this in minute detail. Then, after Song Yuzhang returned to Longquan Commandery as a Ministry of Rites official, he still refused to repent. If he wouldn't die, what else could be done? So even after Song Yuzhang died, the late emperor still wouldn't let go of this loyal but offending minister. He allowed her to cut off his head and bring it back to the capital, then enfeoffed him as the Mountain God of Fallen Mountain. A golden-headed mountain god became a laughingstock throughout the entire new Northern March territory.
Even though the late emperor was already gone.
The woman still feared that man of great talent and bold vision who had died young.
She loved him deeply, full of worship and admiration.
But his death—neither too early nor too late, just right—had actually made her very happy.
For some women, love and affection were like seasonings for cooking—best to have them, but not essential. There were always other things to compensate.
---
That old immortal master in white robes who had earlier stored the celestial corridor bridge in his sleeve stroked his beard and chuckled. "It seems our Empress Dowager has started teaching her son again."
Xu Ruo smiled without speaking.
The Great Li ship turned southward to return. The Skeleton Shoal Linen Clan ship continued north.
The old man turned his head to glance north, saying softly, "Why choose Dong Shuijing instead of this man?"
Xu Ruo smiled. "Benevolence cannot command troops; righteousness cannot manage wealth."
The old man snorted, not bothering to hide his disagreement.
Xu Ruo pressed his hands on the sword hilt and sword tip respectively, both lying horizontally behind him, in a leisurely posture as he gazed into the distance at the earth and mountains.
Below the ship, in the northern part of the Vase Continent, the river sources spread out like a broom, widely dispersed.
The old man was the person in charge for the main branch of the Mohist School after it placed its bets on Great Li in the Vase Continent.
He had always had a good relationship with Xu Ruo and that "old carpenter." However, after the latter lost the election for Mohist Grandmaster, he moved away from the Central Plains Divine Continent and ultimately chose the Great Li Song clan.
Along with this Mohist branch had come the collateral branch of the Yin-Yang School's Lu clan. The two sides hit it off immediately and began daring to defy heaven's will by privately building that imitation White Jade Capital capable of killing immortal-realm cultivators.
Not only that, but that great Yin-Yang cultivator had even more concealed and malicious methods. He had seduced the Great Li late emperor into violating Confucian ritual by privately cultivating to enter the Middle Five Realms. Once the emperor broke through, he would maintain his intelligence while secretly becoming a puppet on strings. Moreover, all his realm would vanish, returning him to an ordinary mortal. By then, whether it was the Cliff Academy still in the Great Li capital or the Lakeview Academy far away in the central Vase Continent, even if they detected any clues, they would find no trace. Such a grand immortal handiwork could only have been conceived and executed by the deeply rooted Yin-Yang School's Lu clan.
Regarding this matter, even that Luan surnamed "old carpenter" had been kept in the dark. Despite living together day and night, he had no awareness at all. One had to admit that collateral Lu cultivator's meticulousness, and of course, the Great Li late emperor's profound scheming depth.
The Imperial Preceptor Cui Chan and Qi Jingchun's Cliff Academy had both chosen the Great Li Song clan only after these two factions. As for what these two disciples of Saint Wen—who had long become bitter enemies yet ended up as neighbors—truly sought respectively in their governance and scholarly pursuits, it was hard to say.
Finally, that A Liang arrived.
He completely changed the pattern of Great Li and the entire Vase Continent.
After A Liang's one sword strike, the imitation White Jade Capital, built with half the nation's strength, malfunctioned and couldn't activate its sword formation to kill enemies ten thousand li away for decades. Great Li Song clan suffered heavy losses, its vitality damaged. However, as misfortune turned to blessing, that Sect Leader Lu Chen, who had secretly visited the Lizhu Cave Heaven, seemed too lazy to bother with Great Li. From arriving in the Haoran world to returning to the Qingming world, he never made a move to destroy Great Li's White Jade Capital. Lu Chen's mercy remains a strange matter that puzzles many experts to this day. If Lu Chen had made a move, even if he vented his anger on the Great Li dynasty with some excessive actions, the Deputy Leader and accompanying sages of the Central Plains Confucian Temple wouldn't have stopped him much.
After that came the accelerated southward march of the Great Li iron cavalry.
Building the imitation White Jade Capital had consumed half of Great Li Song clan's national strength.
Additionally, Great Li had been obtaining divine money through some secret channel and running up debts, allowing Grandmaster Luan and the Mohist mechanism masters to build a full eight "mountain-peak" ships.
It could be said that as long as Great Li's southward momentum was obstructed and stalled somewhere, needing only another three to five years—even if the Great Li iron cavalry's combat power wasn't greatly diminished—the Great Li Song clan itself would be unable to sustain itself.
Thus, when the Zhu Ying dynasty was determined to block the Great Li iron cavalry even at the cost of mutual destruction, it was by no means a matter of impulse. And those surrounding vassal states fighting to the death, using tens or hundreds of thousands of troops to wear down the Great Li iron cavalry, naturally had experts guiding and orchestrating behind the scenes. Otherwise, under the general trend, with such a disparity in combat power and inevitable crushing defeat on the battlefield, who would be willing to die for nothing?
This old Mohist cultivator had always held a very poor opinion of Cui Chan in his early years. He always felt that Cui Chan's reputation exceeded his actual ability—too superficial. So what if he and the White Emperor City's lord had produced the Colorful Cloud Spectrum? So what if he was Saint Wen's disciple, with a twelfth-realm cultivation? Alone, with neither background nor mountain faction, and not even among the absolute top elite in the Central Plains Divine Continent. After being expelled from Saint Wen's lineage and sent packing back to his hometown on the Vase Continent, what great achievements could he possibly make?
But after Xu Ruo convinced the current Mohist Grandmaster of the main branch, and they truly came to this remote barbarian land of the Vase Continent, they began to recognize Cui Chan's brilliance bit by bit.
Last year, at the critical juncture when the Great Li iron cavalry was blocked at the gates of the Zhu Ying dynasty, probably to reassure people, Cui Chan—who had always disliked showing his face amid the surging southward momentum—finally pulled together some old men, sat down openly, and had a good talk. It wasn't about how Great Li would surely succeed and how to divide the spoils afterward. Cui Chan only talked about every step of the Great Li iron cavalry's advance in the next ten years, almost specifying for each year which of the three Great Li cavalry corps would fight whom, where, what the mutual casualties would be, the corresponding state of the Great Li treasury, and so on—all "small matters" that couldn't be finer. Then came the mountain-top powers of the Vase Continent like the Lakeview Academy, True Martial Mountain, and Wind and Snow Temple, and how their attitudes would subtly change at different stages. Then when Shengao Sect's Qi Zhen would enter the game and finally agree to see Great Li's envoy. After that, Cui Chan even elaborated on the resurgence of resistance on Great Li's future new territory, the back-and-forth struggles with the Great Li garrison, what would trigger them, and how they would be resolved. The gains and losses for Great Li during this period—he explained it all unhurriedly.
At the end, Cui Chan told everyone to wait and see. Whether to believe or not, whether to pull out halfway or increase their bets, there was no rush. Just watch from the other shore and see if the Great Li iron cavalry would take the Zhu Ying dynasty according to the steps he, Cui Chan, had laid out.
Facts proved Cui Chan right.
Only at that moment did this old cultivator have to admit that Cui Chan really knew how to play chess.
But this old cultivator was also a stubborn one. He didn't believe in superstition, so he went to ask Cui Chan how he had done it. He simply didn't believe there was such a thing as predicting the enemy like a god or foreknowledge in the world. After all, contending for a continent wasn't like a real chess player fiddling with a few pieces.
So Cui Chan took him to a heavily guarded Great Li archive, secretly built outside the capital.
Nearly five hundred people, half of them cultivators, were all doing one thing: gathering intelligence, extracting information, and liaising with spies and expendable agents across the continent.
The military deployments, mountain power distributions, and personal information of civil and military ministers of all dynasties and vassal states on the Vase Continent were categorized. The belly of a high mountain had been completely hollowed out and filled with these archives accumulated over a hundred years.
This wasn't even the most shocking thing for the old cultivator. What truly terrified the old Mohist cultivator was another easily overlooked "small matter."
At that time, the Great Li Imperial Preceptor in his Confucian scholar's robe led him through that Great Li forbidden ground called "Book Mountain." Along the way, everyone they passed was in a hurry. When they saw the Imperial Preceptor of an entire nation, they would only slightly step aside, then go on their way. No kneeling, no bowing, no polite greetings. Even when the Imperial Preceptor asked questions, it was one question, one answer. Both sides' words were concise, and then they parted ways.
As a Mohist expert and a top-tier mechanism master, the old cultivator's feeling at that time was that when he came to his senses and looked around, standing within this "Book Mountain," he felt as if he were inside an unprecedented, massive, and complex mechanism—filled with the aura of standards, precision, and fit.
In history, the grand spectacles of cultivators descending the mountain to "support the dragon" were like children playing house compared to this Embrothed Tiger's deeds. They would celebrate joyfully after achieving even a little.
After leaving the star-studded Central Plains Divine Continent, the infamous first disciple of the Second Sage had been silent for a full hundred years.
Ridiculously enough, when those eight "mountain-peak" ships slowly rose into the air and the Great Li iron cavalry officially marched south, almost no one cared what Cui Chan was doing on the Vase Continent.
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Along the way, Chen Ping'an had been learning the Northern Juzhou standard language.
In this regard, the Northern Juzhou Continent was better than the Vase Continent and the Tongye Continent. The standard language was universally used throughout the continent. While each country had its official language and local dialects, they were far less complex than the other two continents. Moreover, people traveling abroad were accustomed to communicating in the standard language, which saved Chen Ping'an a lot of trouble. At Inverted Mountain, he had suffered—the Vase Continent standard language, when spoken to cultivators from other continents, either wasn't understood or was met with utter contempt.
The Linen Clan ship was about to land. Chen Ping'an packed his luggage and came to the railing on the first floor. Those armies of strongmen towing the ship and flying through the air were quite mysterious. They didn't seem to be pure yin creatures but rather something between yin spirits and talisman puppets.
Below was the vast territory of Skeleton Shoal. It didn't match the gloomy, ghostly atmosphere in Chen Ping'an's impression. Instead, several places had dazzling colors shooting straight into the clouds, lingering without dispersing, like auspicious signs.
For a thousand li around, Skeleton Shoal was mostly plains and tidal flats, with few high mountains or peaks belonging to ordinary sect-level immortal families, nor overlapping mountain ranges.
There was only one great river running through Skeleton Shoal from north to south. Unlike ordinary winding rivers, it was as straight as if split by a sword, with almost no tributaries spreading out. This was also likely hiding some secret.
There was only one immortal shop on the Linen Clan ship, with a great variety of goods. The treasures of the shop were two top-grade magic treasures—both damaged ancient swords from ancient immortals. If not for the blades being heavily rolled and the sword essence damaged beyond repair, making it impossible to restore them to their original state, they would have been undisputed demigod weapons. What was most praised about them was that the two swords were what mountain cultivators called "cultivation partner" items. One was named "Rain Falling," the other "Lantern Ming." Legend had it they were the swords of a pair of sword immortal cultivation partners from the Northern Juzhou Continent.
Thus, the ship would not sell them separately. The price for the two magic swords together was one hundred Valley Rain coins.
There was also a gimmick to this deal: earthly immortal sword cultivators could get a 20% discount. Upper fifth-realm sword immortals could get a 40% discount.
However, for earthly immortal cultivators, the price was still somewhat expensive. For an upper fifth-realm sword immortal, it was even more of a white elephant.
Chen Ping'an just satisfied his eyes. His purse was thin, after all. Even if he had the money, he wouldn't be such a fool.
Nevertheless, Chen Ping'an still went to the shop bearing the "Virtual Hate" plaque and bought a few clever, inexpensive small items. One was a spiritual tool connecting to the Mirror Flower Water Moon of Sharpening Mountain—a celadon brush washer, similar to Chen Lingjun's old water bowl from back then. In that divine book from Inverted Mountain, Sharpening Mountain was specifically mentioned as a martial arena for sword cultivators to duel. Any grudges, as long as they were agreed to be settled at Sharpening Mountain, required no life-or-death contract. They would just go there and fight until one died. For a thousand years, there had been almost no exceptions.
Then there was an antique poetry-inscribed inkstone and a box of imperial-ordered Stone Drum Ink from the last emperor of a fallen dynasty, totaling ten ink sticks.
By the time Chen Ping'an was settling accounts with the shop, the shopkeeper came out personally and said with a smile that the Grand God Wei of Piyun Mountain had already given the order: all expenses at the "Virtual Hate" shop were to be charged to Piyun Mountain's account.
Chen Ping'an didn't stand on ceremony. He even asked, "What if I buy a few more items?"
The shopkeeper smiled and shook his head. "The Grand God Wei also said that after I, the shopkeeper, came out, the agreement would be voided."
Chen Ping'an still smiled and thanked the shopkeeper. After some conversation, Chen Ping'an learned that although the shopkeeper had his shop on the Linen Clan ship, he wasn't a Linen Clan cultivator. The Linen Clan was extremely cautious in selecting disciples. The names on their ancestral hall registry were more precious than gold. Moreover, when the founding ancestor moved from the Central Plains back then, he established quotas of "thirty-six inner sect direct disciples and one hundred and eight outer sect disciples." So most people on Skeleton Shoal were outsiders like him.
The old shopkeeper was quite talkative and introduced Chen Ping'an to many local customs and taboos of the mountains around Skeleton Shoal.
The two were chatting cheerfully by the ship's railing when Chen Ping'an suddenly turned his head. He saw, at the edge of his field of vision, two sword lights crisscrossing in the sky. Each time they clashed, they sent out a large burst of color and electricity.
The old shopkeeper, used to such sights, smiled. "Common occurrence. Our local sword cultivators are just stretching their limbs. If you look, they always stay away from the central area of Skeleton Shoal. That should tell you something. If the two sides really started fighting in earnest, they wouldn't care if you're the Linen Clan of Skeleton Shoal. They'd fly over even the ancestral hall roof without hesitation. At worst, the Linen Clan cultivators would strike and knock them flying. So what if they cough up three mouthfuls of blood? If they're strong enough, it's even better to have a three-way free-for-all. Now that's satisfying."
Chen Ping'an was speechless.
This Northern Juzhou Continent... was really something.