Chapter 489: Journey to Jingguan City
At the entrance of Ghostly Valley stood a row of enormous memorial archways. The foremost one was a strikingly grand structure of five bays, six pillars, and eleven roofs, its walls inlaid with precious yellow and green glazed tiles. Each dragon pillar was carved with images of the past patriarchs of the Peima Sect subduing demons, and the horizontal plaque bore the inscription “Magnificent and Uncommon Sight.”
Cultivators and pure martial artists typically possessed exceptionally keen eyesight. Yet earlier, when Chen Ping’an had gazed through the archway, he simply could not see the end of the road ahead, and it did not seem to be due to any illusionary technique.
However, compared to the gate that connected the Inverted Suspension Mountain and the Sword Qi Great Wall, the mysteries of the archways here did not astonish Chen Ping’an much.
Chen Ping’an casually sat down near the archway and read for over an hour. Because he was reading meticulously, unwilling to overlook any detail, he had only gotten through a small portion. He decided to rest today at an inn in the nearby market town and make plans tomorrow—whether to continue browsing the border scenery of Ghostly Valley or to pass through the row of archways and enter the valley’s depths for training. There was no rush.
Chen Ping’an put away the book and walked toward the bustling market. This market was leased by the Peima Sect to a small sect from Skeleton Beach for management. Many such properties were handled similarly; Peima Sect cultivators did not personally involve themselves in operations. After all, the Peima Sect had fewer than two hundred members but a large estate. Handling everything personally would hinder their cultivation of the Great Path, and the loss would outweigh the gain.
The exceptions were the Nascent Soul cultivator surnamed Su, who oversaw the transcontinental ferry, and the Golden Core cultivator surnamed Yang, who patrolled Mural City—both tasks concerned the Peima Sect’s face and substance.
Nowadays, the Fallen Mountain had begun to take on the form of a substantial mountain estate. Zhu Lian and Shi Rou were like internal and external stewards: one managing mundane affairs on the mountain, the other handling business on Qilong Lane.
It was not until he had truly left Longquan Prefecture that Chen Ping’an, during occasional breaks from practicing his fists on the transcontinental ferry, would look back and reflect, finding it amusing. Two figures acting as stewards—one a Distant Traveling martial artist, the other a withered skeleton woman clad in a celestial’s discarded body—who could imagine that?
Before leaving Fallen Mountain, Chen Ping’an had already informed Zhu Lian that he would rarely send sword messages back to Oxhorn Mountain. The two flying swords stored in the small sword tomb could not cross continents. Thus, this journey to the Northern Juzhou was truly solitary, with no burdens or attachments.
After all, the Fallen Mountain was now very stable.
If anyone should be wary, it was the others.
Walking along the road, Chen Ping’an adjusted his bamboo hat and chuckled to himself. As a bundle-carrying itinerant merchant, he ought to start earning some money.
Skeleton Beach was a place where Confucian rites were not required. The small market had no name; locals commonly called it Naiguan Pass. Once the name caught on, everyone coming and going accepted it.
Even with the sun high in the sky, the streets and alleys of the market still felt gloomy and chilling. According to the Peima Sect’s published book “The Peace of Mind Collection,” this was due to the yin qi seeping out from Ghostly Valley. Thus, those with weak bodies should stay away. However, the book clearly stated in black and white that this seemingly terrifying yin qi had been refined by the Peima Sect’s landscape formation, becoming relatively pure and even. To some extent, it was suitable for qi refiners to absorb directly. So, if qi refiners rode the wind and looked down, they would see that not only around the market but all along the border of Ghostly Valley, many qi refiners had built thatched huts for cultivation. These elegant but not crude huts were scattered like stars, appropriately spaced. Each hut was built by Peima Sect cultivators skilled in feng shui geomancy, placed precisely on “spring eyes” of dense yin qi. Moreover, each hut was furnished with a cushion crafted by the Sanlang Temple. Cultivators could rent a hut short-term, and those with deep pockets could buy one outright. “The Peace of Mind Collection” listed detailed prices, clearly marked.
This was likely the Peima Sect’s way of generating wealth.
In the future, Fallen Mountain would need to learn from this.
After entering the market, Chen Ping’an strolled around and noticed that almost all shops sold a kind of crystal-jade white bone. This was a type of acquired spiritual treasure introduced in detail in the “Goods and Wealth” chapter of “The Peace of Mind Collection,” quite rare. Initially, within Ghostly Valley, numerous ghosts born from the remains of ancient battlefields gathered. Half of them were expelled here by Peima Sect cultivators at great cost, to prevent them from wreaking havoc across Skeleton Beach.
Later, some of these yin beings, through various fortuitous encounters—much like qi refiners advancing in realms—evolved into valiant spirits resembling mountain and river deities. More became rampant and brutal fierce ghosts. Over the long years, powerful yin spirits that “fed on ghosts” emerged. The two sides entangled and fought; the losers had their souls scattered, transforming into yin qi of Ghostly Valley, losing all chance of reincarnation. The white bones of varying ranks were scattered everywhere, usually collected and stored as trophies by the victors. Within Ghostly Valley, qi refiners and pure martial artists who entered on expeditions would find these jade-white bones to be a considerable prize.
Many mountain merchants came here to purchase bones refined to extreme purity by the supreme yin qi of Ghostly Valley, making them excellent materials for crafting yin-dark magical instruments.
Finally, Chen Ping’an entered the largest shop in the market. It was crowded with visitors, all examining a shop’s treasure sealed in a glass cabinet. It was the skeleton of a valiant spirit—a city lord who had once overthrown a city within Ghostly Valley. It stood a zhang tall. Inside the glass cabinet, the shop had deliberately arranged it in a seated posture, fists clenched on its knees, gazing into the distance. Even as a lifeless object, it still exuded an arrogant bearing fit for a regional overlord.
This white skeleton was covered in dense interwoven natural silver threads, their luster shifting and changing.
According to the shop, the original owner of this skeleton was a valiant spirit whose realm was equivalent to an Earth Immortal Nascent Soul. Arrogant and untamed, he led eight thousand ghosts under his command, declared himself king, and waged wars everywhere, often clashing with the Jade Pure realm overlord of Ghostly Valley. However, “The Peace of Mind Collection” contained no record of this valiant spirit’s fall. According to the young shop assistant, who spoke with great fervor and spittle flying, the shopkeeper had once befriended a hidden northern sword immortal who had concealed his true realm and pretended to be a Cave Dwelling sword cultivator. The shopkeeper, finding kindred spirits, treated him with courtesy. That sword immortal then made a trip into Ghostly Valley and brought out this priceless white skeleton, directly gifting it to the shop, saying it would cover the cost of the wine he had previously owed. He did not leave his true name and departed.
Elsewhere, upon hearing such a sensational and absurd story, Chen Ping’an would have dismissed it entirely. But here in Northern Juzhou, he was half-doubtful, half-believing.
This skeleton of a valiant spirit, with bones like “golden branches and jade leaves” of an Earth Immortal, was an undeniably superior-grade dharma treasure. The shop assistant said it was not for sale under ordinary circumstances, but if there was genuine intent, a discussion could be had. However, he made it clear: if one did not have forty or fifty Grain Rain Coins in their pocket, they should not even mention it, to avoid wasting breath on both sides. Despite such an exorbitant price, Chen Ping’an noticed several groups in the shop eager to try.
Chen Ping’an decided not to join the excitement.
Leaving the shop, he found an inn. The room was not luxurious, just clean and refreshing. Similar to the tea stall on Swaying River, gold and silver were not accepted. Starting with one Snow Flower Coin, one could stay for three days, but meals and drinks were not included. If this were a mortal dynasty in the mundane world, even in a bustling capital like Dali, a room the size of a snail shell charging over three hundred silver taels a day would surely drown the innkeeper in spit.
Chen Ping’an took off his bamboo hat and the sword immortal from his back, then continued reading “The Peace of Mind Collection,” which became more unsettling the more he read.
Skeleton Beach was one of the ten great ancient battlefield sites in Northern Juzhou. Ghostly Valley was especially unique—a place of time vortices forming a self-contained small world akin to the underworld, its territory no smaller than the “yang world” of Skeleton Beach. Within it, a massive valiant spirit, now equivalent to the Jade Pure realm, had been the first to stand out. With a single call, he gathered tens of thousands of yin soldiers and generals, building the famous White Bone Jingguan City, likened to a dynasty’s capital. Surrounding it were several dozen cities of various sizes, half attached to Jingguan City, the other half created and operated by highly accomplished ghosts, standing in distant opposition to Jingguan City, unwilling to be vassals. Over a thousand years, through alliances and warfare, the ghosts within Ghostly Valley grew fewer but stronger.
Historically, the yin beings of Ghostly Valley had twice attempted to break through the boundary, wanting to storm out and plunder Skeleton Beach, ideally advancing north along Swaying River to devour two countries along the way, then abduct living people back to Ghostly Valley to create new yin beings and ghosts via vile secret techniques, expanding their army. Both times, they were stopped by Peima Sect cultivators, but the sect suffered severe losses, falling from its peak to a low ebb.
The Peima Sect’s journey in Northern Juzhou, from gaining a foothold to expanding territory, had been fraught with difficulties.
Yet this demonstrated the profound foundation of Northern Juzhou. In just one Skeleton Beach, the Peima Sect alone had three Jade Pure patriarchs, and Ghostly Valley had one.
In contrast, in East Treasure Bottle Continent, setting aside a handful of high-ranking hermits who had secretly infiltrated, the native cultivators who had reached the Upper Five Realms were few enough to count on one’s fingers.
However, Cui Dongshan had long warned about this: Treasure Bottle Continent’s territory was less than thirty percent of Juzhou’s, and its Jade Pure cultivators were rare, like phoenix feathers and qilin horns, not comparable to other continents. But those in Treasure Bottle Continent who managed to enter the Upper Five Realms were no pushovers. For instance, Liu Laocheng of the Letter and Bamboo Lake and Wei Jin of the Wind Snow Temple—both were heaven’s favored sons who had shouldered part of a continent’s fortune. If they were to fight to the death with cultivators of the same realm from Northern Juzhou or Indus Leaf Continent, especially those pampered scholarly immortal officials, Liu Laocheng and Wei Jin had a high chance of victory.
Once qi refiners or martial artists chose to enter the valley for training, it was equivalent to signing a life-and-death agreement with the Peima Sect. Whether they gained wealth or died violently depended entirely on their own ability and luck. If they earned a windfall, the Peima Sect would not envy or covet it; they would not take an extra coin. If they died in Ghostly Valley, with no chance of escape from births and deaths, they had no one to blame.
This was an unwritten rule. In history, there had been immortal estates that, grieving the premature death of a prized disciple, later summoned friends and allies to come to Skeleton Beach to argue with the Peima Sect—both to question fault and to demand compensation. The Peima Sect cultivators never explained a word. When people arrived, they set up a table at the mountain gate, served a cup of gloomy tea, and then started fighting. Either the visitors fought their way into the patriarch’s hall, or the Peima Sect beat them until they handed over all magical treasures and spirit coins, then threw them into Swaying River to swim back to their northern homes.
Thus, Swaying River had another name: Dumpling River.
They had indeed “made dumplings” several times.
But the Peima Sect did not begrudge outsiders who died inside; “The Peace of Mind Collection” clearly marked three northern routes. It recommended that qi refiners and martial artists carefully assess their realms, starting by seeking out wandering solitary ghosts, then at most dealing with a few smaller cities, and finally, if they were skilled and bold enough and still unsatisfied, they could try their luck in the inland cities.
The realms, preferred techniques, carried magical treasures, and hidden skills of all Earth Immortal valiant spirit ghost kings in Ghostly Valley were clearly recorded in the book.
Moreover, the Peima Sect had built two towns inside Ghostly Valley. The sect leader, Immortal Guo Chi, personally garrisoned one, but ordinary people rarely saw her. However, in the towns, there were two teams of inner Peima Sect cultivators specializing in hunting yin spirits and ghost generals. Outsiders could follow or invite them to explore Ghostly Valley. Any spoils would be kept entirely by the outsiders; the Peima Sect cultivators would take nothing. But the book honestly stated that Peima Sect cultivators would not serve as bodyguards for anyone; it was normal for them to watch someone die without intervening. However, if a scion of a wealthy immortal clan had too much money burning a hole in their pocket and came to Ghostly Valley for sightseeing, they could do so—as long as they obeyed all of the Peima Sect cultivators’ instructions. The Peima Sect could guarantee that they would see the scenery of Ghostly Valley and leave the danger unscathed. If the sightseers adhered to the rules, any accidental losses during the trip would be compensated by the Peima Sect cultivators—not only with money but also with their lives.
In the night, Chen Ping’an closed the thick “The Peace of Mind Collection,” stood up, walked to the window, and leaned against it, drinking wine.
After reading the whole book, besides remembering all the tedious taboos, he saw the bold spirit of the Peima Sect cultivators.
He thought of that ancient time.
Back then, in Lizhu Cave Heaven, a straw-sandaled boy had raised his head high and witnessed an unforgettable scene.
Countless sword immortal cultivators flew their swords across continents, heading to the Sword Qi Great Wall to resist the demon race.
Seeking profit or fame?
They were merely sharpening their swords.
No wonder she had said that this cold, bitter land had produced many heroes since ancient times.
Only such soil could yield the most sword immortals in the Righteous Qi World.
You are willing to gift me a few jugs of wine, and I am willing to repay you with a valiant spirit’s white skeleton worth dozens of Grain Rain Coins.
Does it make sense? No.
Does it have no reason? Absolutely.
Chen Ping’an turned to look at the sword immortal placed on the table and said softly, “Don’t worry, here, I won’t let you down.”
His gaze shifted slightly to the bamboo-woven hat, and he smiled. “Because my name is Chen Ping’an—peaceful and safe. I am a swordsman.”
After a moment of silence, Chen Ping’an rubbed his chin and murmured, “Would it be more imposing if I omitted the ‘peaceful and safe’ part?”
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Mural City encountered a rare event that occurred once in a century.
Peima Sect cultivators began sealing off the three walls that still retained blessings, not only prohibiting any visitors from approaching but also forcing all shopkeepers and assistants to temporarily vacate, pending the Peima Sect’s notice.
Naturally, this caused an uproar of resentment, with curses rising and falling.
One unlucky fellow, while jumping and cursing, happened to pass a Peima Sect cultivator. Without a word, the cultivator swept his sleeve and knocked him to the ground. The man rolled his eyes and fainted.
Then the poor man’s friend, without a word, hoisted him up and ran off, neither apologizing to the Peima Sect immortal nor uttering a single threatening word.
This was Northern Juzhou: I have the guts to point at someone’s nose and curse heaven and earth—that’s my business. But if I get beaten down, it’s because my skills are lacking, and I accept it. Someday when my fists are stronger, I’ll settle the score.
The Golden Core cultivator surnamed Yang found this somewhat troubling.
Beside him, his junior brother Pang Lanxi was even more helpless.
Under one of the murals, a ragged young man knelt, kowtowing repeatedly until blood flowed, desperately begging the Rain Goddess in the mural to grant him an opportunity. He had a blood feud that must be avenged. If the goddess would bestow a thread of path fortune, he would serve her as a beast of burden for lifetimes, even if he had to shatter his bones and flesh after revenge.
Before kowtowing, the young man had taken out an ancient jade token he had found somewhere and gently placed it on the ground.
The middle-aged Golden Core cultivator waved his hand, signaling an outer sect cultivator not to drive the man away.
Pang Lanxi wanted to say something, but the middle-aged cultivator held his shoulder.
The middle-aged cultivator’s attention was mostly on a woman with a slender, willow-like figure.
When she appeared, the landscape grand formation set up by the Peima Sect here showed no reaction, but the natural restrictions of the Celestial Palace Secret Realm began to ripple.
As for the Inkstone Goddess on the other side, she was not flustered. An outsider had already gained the goddess’s approval, and the Peima Sect let it be, not obstructing their departure.
The Inkstone Goddess reciprocated by voluntarily climbing the mountain with her new master to visit the Peima Sect’s Founder’s Hall.
Thus, the Inkstone Goddess painting was the first to become a simple ink outline.
Then a seven-colored deer leaped from the Deer-Riding Goddess painting, its figure vanishing in an instant, making it the second mural to become white-lined today.
The cultivator surnamed Yang had been inwardly shocked earlier. After all, the fortune of this Celestial Court Female Official painting was the only one the Peima Sect was determined to obtain. The entire sect deeply hoped that his junior brother Pang Lanxi would successfully inherit that path opportunity. He had almost been unable to restrain himself from trying to stop the seven-colored deer from darting away, but Sect Leader Guo Chi soon emerged from the mural and told him to stand down, just to guard the last goddess painting. Then Guo Chi returned to her post in Ghostly Valley, saying an honored guest had arrived that she must receive personally. As for the Inkstone Goddess and her new master’s visit to the mountain, the sect leader’s senior uncle at the Founder’s Hall would handle it.
The middle-aged cultivator was actually quite baffled. For their sect leader to personally receive a guest—could it be the head of a major sect?
The Rain Goddess finally appeared, her face pale. Stepping out of the painting, she looked at the cold-eyed woman, then at the ancient jade token on the ground, inscribed with “Moving Clouds” and “Flowing Water” on obverse and reverse. This goddess, most skilled in divination, seemed caught in a dilemma.
The middle-aged cultivator saw a hint of what was happening.
This was a huge problem that none of the other seven goddesses in Mural City had ever faced.
The woman, who appeared delicate and gentle—if one ignored her gaze and did not happen to stand under this mural—would not have attracted much attention even from a Golden Core cultivator like him.
Unimaginable that a goddess could appear so pitiful and helpless.
The Rain Goddess was the one the Peima Sect dealt with most. Legend said she was the most resourceful among the Celestial Palace goddesses, especially skilled in chess. The old patriarch had once joked that if someone were fortunate enough to gain the Rain Goddess’s favor, they might not become extremely powerful in combat, but a mountain immortal estate would most need her assistance.
The woman glanced at the young man still kowtowing, with his forehead nearly showing bone, then looked at the Rain Goddess. “Go help him through this ordeal. After sixty years, come and apologize to me.”
The Rain Goddess’s mind wavered, so much so that the entire Mural City seemed hazy with mist. The goddess felt as if she were a minor official in the mortal bureaucracy facing a Minister of Personnel from the Ministry of State.
The Rain Goddess trembled. “How will I find you afterwards?”
The woman said calmly, “Lion Peak.”
The middle-aged Peima Sect cultivator frowned.
Lion Peak indeed had a powerful Nascent Soul cultivator, not to be underestimated, but he was a male cultivator of considerable age.
Yet even if that Nascent Soul cultivator stood here in person, how could he make the Rain Goddess so fearful?
The woman smiled at the middle-aged Golden Core cultivator, introducing herself: “Lion Peak, Li Liu.”
The middle-aged cultivator had never heard the name, but still replied, “Peima Sect, Yang Lin.”
The young woman named Li Liu left Mural City like that.
She seemed too lazy to even glance at the Rain Goddess again.
The young Pang Lanxi, standing by, wiped his forehead, covered in sweat, and sighed, “Senior Brother Yang, this Senior Li Liu is terrifying.”
The middle-aged cultivator smiled. “Say that to me, it’s fine. If your master heard it, he would scold you for lacking cultivation of the heart.”
The young man, simple-minded, felt that Senior Brother Yang was indeed steady and would become a pillar of the Peima Sect. He did not notice the complex look in his Golden Core senior brother’s eyes.
Because Pang Lanxi was still unaware that he had lost the fortune of the Deer-Riding Goddess painting.
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Inside Ghostly Valley.
A group of people did not take the entrance archway.
Instead, one of them directly used a lifebound object to tear open a large gate, and then a Flowing Sunset Boat rushed in.
At the bow stood a young sect leader in a Dao robe and lotus crown, a goddess accompanied by a seven-colored deer, and Jiang Shangzhen, who had changed his mind and decided to explore Ghostly Valley together.
The Flowing Sunset Boat, personally gifted by Heavenly Lord Xie Shi, was a celestial treasure, but its speed was greatly reduced as it flew through the thick layers of fog and miasma in Ghostly Valley.
The Flowing Sunset Boat streaked across Ghostly Valley’s sky like a comet, extremely conspicuous. As the treasure boat rubbed against the yin-sha and miasma, it radiated brilliant multicolored glazes. The sound of breaking the air boomed like thunder. On the ground, many yin beings and ghosts scattered in all directions, and cities along the route quickly went on alert.
Jiang Shangzhen raised a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes, peered into the distance, and laughed. “Sect Leader He, White Bone Jingguan City is almost here. This Flowing Sunset Boat is a treasure—won’t you sell it?”
The young female Daoist ignored him.
The Deer-Riding Goddess and her master were of the same mind, unwilling to entertain this loose-tongued fellow.
Jiang Shangzhen suddenly turned his head and asked, “Sect Leader He, if you insist on killing him, and your realms are so far apart, I will have to intervene. Of course, before that, if Jingguan City tries to bully the two of you, it will have to ask whether my Willow Leaf agrees or not.”
The female Daoist still said nothing.
Jiang Shangzhen sighed.
Between men and women, debts of money are easy, but debts of love are hard to repay.
Just how had this Chen Ping’an provoked her?
Not very old, but impressively skilled.
If Chen Ping’an were here, Jiang Shangzhen would give him a thumbs up and praise him as a role model for their generation.