Chapter 502: Pressing Down a Line
The Canal Lord’s wife stared at the hole in the back wall of the shrine, her gaze unfocused. She shook her head lightly, then said with a mournful face and trembling voice, “Did the immortal master really kill that Du Yu?”
Chen Ping’an thought for a moment, then smiled. “Half dead. I’ve imprisoned his soul. Ghost Axe Palace is no small sect, and that Du fellow’s parents are what you, Canal Lord’s wife, call a high-ranking dao couple on the mountains. How would I dare disrespect him? I merely gave him a minor punishment as a warning.”
The Canal Lord’s wife staggered and sat down hard on the ground, her embroidered colorful skirt suddenly blooming like a gorgeous peony on the earth.
This young man before her—his lips were coated with honey, but his heart was crawling with vipers! He looked young, but he had to be an old monster who had cultivated on the mountains for countless years. What a ruthless, grinning immortal guest!
Chen Ping’an shook his robes, and the dust clinging to them burst away. His green robes instantly became spotless. He walked straight across the broken sacrificial altar, past the bonfire and the youth pretending to be dead, and said with a smile, “Wipe your drool now, then go back to playing dead.”
The street youth quickly obeyed.
Chen Ping’an sat down on the threshold of the shrine. Looking at the Canal Lord’s wife and her two maidservants, he took off his Sword-Nurturing Gourd and drank a mouthful of the Yin-cold Water from the Deep Ravine.
In Treasure Bottle Continent there was a City God named Shen Wen; in parasol Leaf Continent there was a River Goddess of the Buried River; and in North Juju Continent there was this Canal Lord’s wife, the Lord of Cangyun Lake, and the City God of Suijia City.
Chen Ping’an had indeed used a secret dharma technique to collect Du Yu’s soul—not an idle threat to scare the water goddess.
This was no mere entry-level immortal technique from the mountains. Rather, it was the second deal Chen Ping’an had made with the River-Severing True Lord Liu Zhimao back at Letter Paper Lake. The technique was of extremely high rank and consumed enormous spiritual energy. At this point, Chen Ping’an’s spiritual accumulation in his water mansion—especially the key water-attribute lifebound object, the water-character seal suspended in the water mansion—had been almost completely drained of the water fortune essence it had condensed over time. He wouldn’t dare to use inner vision to tour his water mansion anytime soon, not wanting to face the resentful looks of those green-clad lads.
From his sleeve, Chen Ping’an took out a gleaming white soldier’s armor pellet and a vermilion pellet densely covered with seal script. This was what Du Yu of Ghost Axe Palace had wanted to use earlier for a sneak attack. The pellet was refined from a demon beast’s inner core, similar in effect to the deadly strike used against Mao Xiaodong in the Great Sui capital back then—except that had been a genuine golden core. This one in Chen Ping’an’s hand was far inferior, likely the inner core of a Viewing-Ocean realm demon beast. As for the soldier’s armor pellet, Du Yu had presumably planned to use that suit of Divine Man Dew-Receiving Armor to withstand the impact of the inner core’s explosion, rather than resorting to mutual destruction.
A good calculation.
When Chen Ping’an had heard that old story about Suijia City earlier, his mind had indeed wavered. He had been keeping part of his attention on Du Yu’s movements and the subtle expressions of the two maidservants.
So when Chen Ping’an had been lost in thought, Du Yu had seized the timing.
Unfortunately, Du Yu’s slight ripple of energy had stirred up a bit of dust from the gravel in the wall cracks—something the Canal Lord’s wife might not have noticed. But to Chen Ping’an, whose fist-intent flowed freely as if shielded by a god, it was as loud as thunder. After all, when a Tenth-Stage martial artist from Bamboo Tower on Fallen Mountain threw a punch, it was truly soundless before exploding like thunder. Often, Chen Ping’an had to rely on guessing and gambling to avoid… being hit too solidly. Dodging was impossible, even when Cui Cheng suppressed his fist-intent to the Far Traveling Stage. And when sparring with Zhu Lian, that martial madman had been forced by Cui Cheng to beat Chen Ping’an half to death every day—his punches were utterly careless.
In the end, it came down to Du Yu’s insufficient cultivation.
It was like when Chen Ping’an had attracted the covetous gaze of Gao Cheng from Skull Pile City in the Ghost-Lair Valley—he had fled without hesitation.
If Du Yu hadn’t clung to luck, come to his senses, and chosen to run directly, Chen Ping’an would have stopped him but wouldn’t have killed him or trapped his soul in a cage.
Chen Ping’an put away the life-saving pellet Du Yu had kept as his last resort, slipping it into his sleeve. He clenched the white armor pellet in his palm, slowly twisting it, and looked at the Canal Lord’s wife. “I told you—everything you know, you will tell me. You also said yourself that you won’t seek death anymore.”
The Canal Lord’s wife sat slumped on the ground, her expression grief-stricken and desolate. “Immortal master, this slave truly hasn’t hidden anything! Could it be that you want to wrong me to death before you’re satisfied?”
She threw herself to the ground, her cheek resting on her arms, her whole body prostrate and trembling. She sobbed pitifully, “What sin have I committed to be so unjustly accused by the immortal master?”
Chen Ping’an stood up, and the Canal Lord’s wife immediately fell silent.
The next moment, Chen Ping’an crouched beside the Canal Lord Water God, pressed his palm against her head, and shoved downward. The result was exactly the same as with Du Yu earlier—she fainted, her head half-buried in the ground.
The two maidservants trembled in fear and wanted to flee. One of them was struck in the back by a blast of Chen Ping’an’s sleeve qi, her delicate body embedding into the wall, also knocked unconscious on the spot.
Only one maidservant remained, shivering. She had taken one step as if frozen by an immortal’s immobilization spell, too terrified to move.
Chen Ping’an turned and sat on the steps. “You’re more honest than that sister of yours who didn’t master the wall-passing technique well. Earlier, when the Canal Lord’s wife spoke about a few details, your eyes revealed quite a bit to me. Tell me what you know—consider it helping your mistress fill in the gaps. Whether you trust me or not, I’ll say it again: I have no grudge against you. Killing a mountain or river spirit deity, even just an attendant officer, comes with karma.”
The maidservant wasn’t stupid. She sobbed, “The Canal Lord’s wife called you ‘immortal master,’ but this maid feels you’re more like a pure martial artist. That Du Yu also said you were a martial arts grandmaster. A martial artist killing a deity doesn’t incur karma.”
Chen Ping’an laughed silently. He tapped the Sword-Nurturing Gourd, and the flying sword Fifteen shot out, hovering like a sparrow circling a branch. In the night, a faint green sword light darted around him.
The maidservant stared dumbfounded. “So the young master really is a sword immortal!”
It was said that the Lord of Cangyun Lake, lofty and aloof, feared nothing more than those sword immortals who could take heads with flying swords!
Chen Ping’an smiled. “If you say so.”
The maidservant began to hesitate. The grief on her face was utterly different from the Canal Lord’s wife’s earlier feigned pitifulness—it was genuine.
If she leaked the secrets tonight, given the Canal Lord’s wife’s suspicious nature and the vicious temperament of the Lake Lord, wouldn’t it be a death sentence? Over the centuries in One Lake, Three Rivers, Two Canals, she had lost count of the sisters who had offended the Lake Lord over small matters and been condemned to water lanterns—their souls drawn out like threads to serve as wicks, burning day and night. Those sisters’ souls only escaped the sea of suffering when the last drop of essence oil dripped from the lantern, but they had no future lives thereafter.
Chen Ping’an had originally wanted to explain more twists and vaguely hint at his subsequent plans to ease her mind, but in the end, he only said one word: “Speak.”
The maidservant trembled so hard she nearly fell. No longer daring to cling to hope, she poured out everything she knew and had deduced, like beans from a bamboo tube.
That Lord of Cangyun Lake was one of the top-tier water deities in their Yin Screen Kingdom, equal in rank to several mountain lords. He had always looked down on the City God temple in Suijia City. In particular, the Fire God Shrine deity had once clashed with the Canal Lord’s wife over a grudge. The Lake Lord had nearly raised the lake waters to flood Suijia City, forcing the Fire God Shrine deity to appear and kowtow before the entire city to apologize. The matter was only settled by a white-haired passing sword immortal mediating. But the Lake Lord’s resentment toward Suijia City deepened. Back then, when the prefect sent that secret letter to his friend in the capital, the City God temple was kept in the dark, but the Lake Lord saw through it clearly. He secretly sent the Canal Lord of Zhaoxi to intercept the messenger. After learning the contents of the secret letter, the Lake Lord gave the Zhaoxi Canal Lord a jade seal token that allowed mountain and river deities to travel far, and ordered her to accompany the messenger to the capital of Yin Screen Kingdom.
Chen Ping’an asked, “What was the relationship between the Fire God Shrine deity and the City God temple?”
The maidservant replied, “It was lukewarm. By rank, the Fire God Shrine should be lower, but that deity didn’t like dealing with the City God temple. At many mountain banquets held by immortal families, the two sides almost never attended together.”
Chen Ping’an asked again, “And what about the Lake Lord’s attitude toward the City God temple?”
The maidservant said softly, “The Lake Lord looked down on the City God even more. Occasionally, when our Canal Lord’s wife got drunk at the lake-bottom Dragon Palace and returned to her private residence, she would confide in us two sisters. She said the Lake Lord mocked the City God as a good-for-nothing who loved plagiarizing poems from poor scholars in his mortal life and spending money to make a name for himself. Yin Screen Kingdom chose such a fellow as City God—he only cared about reputation and honor. Before and after his death, he had no administrative ability. He spent his days singing praises to the wind and moon, calling himself the ‘Play-Moon True Man,’ preferring to be a hands-off manager. He didn’t understand the art of controlling people. So the disaster in Suijia City wasn’t a natural calamity at all—it was clearly man-made. However, our Cangyun Lake and the Suijia City God temple maintained decent relations on the surface. That City God often brought high-ranking officials and noble sons from the capital traveling to the lake-bottom Dragon Palace to broaden their horizons. The Lake Lord’s mansion also had over a dozen beautiful maids, each a vixen, so the distinguished guests always came delighted and left satisfied.”
Chen Ping’an said, “The City God temple made mistake after mistake, leading to today’s catastrophe. Naturally, the Fire God Shrine would be implicated. Actually, your Lord of Cangyun Lake was quite pleased to see it happen.”
The maidservant remained silent for a moment, then said bitterly, “The Lake Lord is the foremost water deity of the kingdom. His thoughts are deep—how could a lowly maid like me guess them?”
Chen Ping’an nodded. He put the armor pellet into his sleeve, then flicked his finger. The maidservant fell backward stiffly, collapsing to the ground.
Chen Ping’an waved his sleeve, and the maidservant who had been embedded in the wall was dragged into the courtyard as if by an invisible hand, rolling on the ground. She slowly woke, her head splitting with pain and her bones nearly shattered.
Chen Ping’an asked, “Just now, that little maid had a head full of mush and couldn’t tell me anything. You look sharper. What do you have to say?”
That maidservant wanted to kneel and beg for mercy, but Chen Ping’an flicked his finger again, lighter this time, yet it still sent her flying out of the shrine like a kite with a broken string. Then Chen Ping’an reached out, pulled her back, and grabbed her throat. They stared at each other. When she saw the look in his eyes, her courage shattered. Her face turned ashen as she whimpered, seemingly wanting to speak.
Chen Ping’an casually threw her to the ground in the courtyard. She lay limp, then took a deep breath, stood up, and turned back to gaze at the Canal Lord’s wife with a complicated expression—gratitude, reluctance, resentment.
Finally, she set her face and spat heavily at the young immortal master who was playing tricks. “I’ve said everything!” she sneered.
Chen Ping’an simply waved away the spittle, calm and composed. He sat on the steps, his hands lightly resting on the emerald-green Walking Mountain Staff.
Again he raised his hand and flicked his finger, knocking her unconscious.
Then, with a subtle tap of his staff, the lingering qi coiled along the ground and struck the back of the Canal Lord’s wife’s head. She instantly woke, pulling her head out of the earth and sitting dazed on the ground.
Chen Ping’an wore a furious expression. “Two worthless slaves! After all these years by your side, are they both just good-for-nothings waiting to die?”
The Canal Lord’s wife felt an immense relief. She had often complained that her two maids were dull and not as clever as the vixens in the Lake Lord’s mansion, who were skilled at hooking and securing men’s hearts. Now, it seemed this was actually a good thing. If Cangyun Lake got involved, not only would those two be condemned to the water lantern, but her own Canal Lord position would also be at risk. That bitch Zhaoxi Canal Lord loved to stir up trouble and stab people in the back. She had already caused her shrine’s incense to wither for years and wanted to wipe her out completely—this wasn’t new; the entire Cangyun Lake was watching the spectacle.
Chen Ping’an said, “Go and call your Lake Lord over. Tell him I helped him kill Du Yu of Ghost Axe Palace, and he should come thank me in person. Remember to remind your Lake Lord that I have clean hands and can’t stand the stench of money, so I only accept river and lake treasures that catch my fancy.”
The Canal Lord’s wife was stunned. “I go?”
Chen Ping’an sneered. “Otherwise, should I go?”
The Canal Lord’s wife rose and was about to use her lifebound divine ability to transform into water mist and flee far away.
Chen Ping’an pointed at the two maids lying on the ground. “The looks on those two are much better than yours, Canal Lord’s wife. After the Lake Lord gives me a gift and I visit Suijia City to obtain the heavenly treasure about to appear, I definitely plan to visit the lake-bottom Dragon Palace. I haven’t traveled much in the martial world, but I’ve read many books. In those scholars’ notes, it’s often recorded that dragon daughters are amorous and their maidservants enchanting. I must see for myself whether they can outshine your two maids. If the dragon daughter and the palace maids are even more beautiful, then you, Canal Lord’s wife, won’t need to find new maids. If they’re about equal, I’ll ask for them all at once. In the capital of Yin Screen Kingdom, I can sell them at a high price.”
The Canal Lord’s wife quickly chimed in, “It would be those two worthless slaves’ greatest fortune to serve the immortal master…”
Chen Ping’an interrupted her with a sarcastic laugh. “But if I visit and find them disappointing, then you, Canal Lord’s wife, and that Zhaoxi Canal Lord who shares sisterly affection with you, will have to come with me to the capital together.”
The Canal Lord’s wife wasn’t worried about that. As long as the Lake Lord was there to take the heat, once she safely returned to the Cangyun Lake Dragon Palace and saw him, everything would be fine.
Who knew how this would end?
She quickly shook her sleeves, sending two streams of green water fortune qi into the maids’ faces to wake them. She apologized to the immortal master and said she would go quickly and return quickly.
Chen Ping’an suddenly called her back.
Her body stiffened. She turned and said bitterly, “Does the immortal master have further instructions?”
Chen Ping’an extended one palm and smiled. “Lend me some water fortune essence. Just a small amount—two taels will do.”
The Canal Lord’s wife felt both shock and pain, but also a bit of relief. Water fortune essence was the fundamental path for a water deity’s cultivation, but compared to dying on the spot, it was a bargain. She quickly extended a finger and pressed it to her brow. A faint azure light bloomed, and a golden thread flowed down like a stream from a mountaintop gorge, over her shoulder, along her arm, and toward her wrist. Finally, she cupped her palm and a jade-green water bead popped up. She gently pushed it toward Chen Ping’an, wiped the sweat from her brow, and smiled. “For the immortal master to say ‘lend’—that shames this slave. Consider these three or four taels of water fortune essence a small meeting gift for the fortune of encountering the immortal master.”
Chen Ping’an smiled. “Compared to the Lianyan Cup treasure, it’s indeed small.”
The Canal Lord’s wife dared not reply.
The Lianyan Cup—that was her very lifeblood. There were very few immortal artifacts that could allow mountain and river deities to advance their cultivation apart from tempering their golden bodies with incense fire. Each was a supreme treasure. The Lianyan Cup had once been a Dragon Palace treasure of the Cangyun Lake Lord. The Zhaoxi Canal Lord hated her so bitterly and regarded her as a mortal enemy precisely because of that cup, which had deep origins. According to the Lake Lord, it had once been an important ritual vessel of a grand daoist temple, steeped in incense for a thousand years to gain such efficacy.
After the mistress and her two maids left the shrine,
Chen Ping’an put away the water fortune bead. Four taels—enough to quench an immediate thirst, even effective, better than miraculous medicine. But it was no long-term solution.
On the path of cultivation, some shortcuts could let a qi practitioner quickly reach the mountainside, but the further one went, the more hidden dangers there were.
Chen Ping’an didn’t rush to refine the bead to replenish his water mansion’s qi. He sat where he was, thinking.
He knew they might not come back. The Lord of Cangyun Lake would most likely not come ashore to meet him. Having killed Du Yu of Ghost Axe Palace, was he supposed to come and help clean up the corpse? Once on shore and in the shrine, it would be like Chen Ping’an slapping him in the face with a handful of filth. Would Ghost Axe Palace and Du Yu’s parents, that dao couple, care whether he was unfairly implicated? And besides, you, the foremost water deity of Yin Screen Kingdom, have the nerve to talk about being unfairly implicated?
As for the two shrine maids—
One had done right by him.
One had done right by the Canal Lord’s wife.
So both could live.
Chen Ping’an twisted his wrist, and a ball of ten strands of black smoke congealed in his hand, eventually forming a distorted, agonized male face—Du Yu’s.
Whenever an ordinary breeze passed by, the ball formed from his three souls and seven spirits would writhe in agony, as if suffering the torment of a lightning tribulation.
Such was the way of yin beings—so unwelcome between heaven and earth. Half-dead Du Yu forced his voice, which was still as faint as a mosquito’s buzz: “Please, put my soul back in my body quickly—there’s still a chance to save me. If I can live, I, Du Yu, will cut out three drops of heart essence blood, light three sticks of incense, and swear before heaven, earth, and the ancestors with a secret immortal poison oath—I will never oppose you again, I swear…”
Chen Ping’an ignored him, talking to himself. “‘A night of spring wind’—such a beautiful phrase. How did it come out of your mouth so vilely? Hmm?”
Chen Ping’an curled his fingers slightly, and wisps of qi rotated, just enveloping the soul ball.
Du Yu immediately began to howl like a ghost.
Chen Ping’an said slowly, “What does it feel like to taste a female knight-errant? Tell me. I’ve walked the martial world, and I don’t even know that.”
Du Yu was about to speak.
Chen Ping’an tilted his head, but his hand tightened, the qi condensing until it was thick as water about to freeze. He cupped his ear as if listening and asked, “What did you say? Speak up—I can’t hear you.”
Du Yu’s three souls and seven spirits had just been stripped from his body by the secret technique, already in their weakest state. Now he was worse than dead. His souls and spirits were tangled together, ten strands of black smoke twisted like tangled hemp. If this continued, even if he escaped the cage, he would become a wandering ghost with no intelligence left, a ferocious specter that any immortal cultivator would be duty-bound to slay.
Chen Ping’an released his fingers, raised his hand, then swung it gently over his shoulder. The corpse that had been behind the shrine crashed into the courtyard.
Chen Ping’an crouched beside Du Yu’s corpse, palm downward, and pressed down suddenly.
After about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, Du Yu foamed at the mouth, convulsed, and bled from his seven orifices. It looked terrifying, but it was actually a good sign.
If there had been no such reaction, it would mean the body had rejected the soul’s re-entry. Once the soul couldn’t find its way back, the three souls and seven spirits would have to leave the body and drift, either dissipated by the winds of the world or, clinging to a wisp of spiritual energy by luck, eventually become a yin spirit or ghost.
Du Yu sat up, vomited a mouthful of blood, then quickly crossed his legs and began forming hand seals, sinking his mind inward to stabilize his turbulent key energy palaces.
After the blood-soaked Du Yu exhaled heavily, he turned to look.
The man was crouching not far away, hands tucked in his sleeves, staring at the knife on the ground.
Du Yu’s mind raced.
The man didn’t move at all.
Du Yu sighed in despair, abandoning the idea of fighting to the death. He slowly stood, touched his heart three times with his fingers, his face contorting. Three drops of heart essence blood lit up like wicks, and three wisps of green smoke rose like incense. Du Yu bowed his head slightly, holding the incense at eyebrow level, and declared loudly, “From this moment, Du Yu, soldier scion of Ghost Axe Palace, announces to heaven, earth, lord, parents, and teacher: I swear I will not seek revenge. This enmity ends here, like mountains and rivers parting ways…”
Chen Ping’an stood up, pressed his toe on the knife handle, and gave a light shove. The blade flashed and slid neatly into the scabbard at Du Yu’s waist.
Du Yu’s legs went weak again.
Once bitten, twice shy.
Chen Ping’an, holding his Walking Mountain Staff, walked toward the shrine gate. “Meeting is fate. There are a few things I’d like to ask you.”
Du Yu’s heart churned. Fate my ass—I almost died in this stinking ditch. But he obediently followed the man out of the Water Immortal Shrine.
Du Yu’s sleeves were empty. The Divine Man Dew-Receiving Armor he’d borrowed from his father was gone. The refined demon core he’d begged from his mother was gone too. His heart and guts ached as if twisted. But remembering the agony of having his soul imprisoned, Du Yu couldn’t help shuddering. His mind was unsettled, his soul unsteady—the aftereffects of soul separation. He would need decades of careful recuperation. This trip to Suijia City had inexplicably ended in a huge fall. Not only had his fundamental path been wounded, but going back to Ghost Axe Palace to explain to his parents would be another huge headache.
The two men walked one behind the other on a weed-choked path.
The moonlight was still, the mist cool.
Du Yu’s heart was even cooler.
Who the hell was this person? Among the mountain cultivators and martial arts grandmasters of a dozen or so kingdoms, Du Yu had traveled widely and had a broad knowledge, but he’d never heard of anyone like this.
The number of younger cultivators who could make him feel so humiliated was negligible.
Chen Ping’an cleared the path with his staff, as if taking a moonlit stroll. His mood gradually settled. He smiled. “Do you know why you got your soul back?”
Du Yu smiled bitterly. “Senior wants the two talismans of our Ghost Axe Palace? Leaking the secrets of the ancestral hall is punishable by breaking the Longevity Bridge and expulsion from the sect.”
Chen Ping’an said, “Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, I know—what’s there to fear? Besides, you’ve traveled the martial world for years, even fishing for a Water Goddess like a fish. Are you afraid of rules? For people like you, rules are meant to be broken for fun.”
Du Yu’s heart pounded even harder.
Only someone who had truly attained the Dao, utterly ruthless, could speak such words so naturally.
His parents had said similar things to him in private.
Chen Ping’an continued, “If you had died tonight at the Water Immortal Shrine on the shores of Cangyun Lake, Ghost Axe Palace would have a hard time finding me. The Canal Lord’s wife and the Lord of Cangyun Lake would also struggle. In the end, wouldn’t it just be a messy account? So your real worry now isn’t leaking sect secrets—it’s that after I learn the talisman-drawing methods and accompanying incantations, I’ll kill you to silence you, clean and simple.”
This was a trick he’d learned from the scholar in Ghost-Lair Valley—frame others and muddy the waters.
Du Yu was speechless with despair.
The young man carrying a bamboo box and holding a bamboo staff spoke warmly, like an old friend chatting idly. “Once I know your reasoning, then I can better explain mine.”
Du Yu stopped in his tracks. “Senior, how can I be sure that after I reveal the Tortoise-Bearing-Steele Talisman and the Snow-and-Mud Talisman, you won’t kill me and destroy the evidence?”
Chen Ping’an stopped as well and turned around. “You can only bet your life.”
Du Yu said bitterly, “Senior! I’ve already sworn a heavy oath! Why do you still press me so hard?”
The man looked surprised. “You, relying on your sect’s elite lineage, come down the mountain to play in the martial world, treating human lives like grass. I have stronger fists, so I treat you like an ant, play with you in my palm. Isn’t it the same logic? Hard to understand? Are your parents not worried that you’re this stupid?”
Du Yu wanted to cry but had no tears.
Meeting such a ‘honest’ senior from the mountains—could he really blame himself for not checking the almanac before leaving home?
Chen Ping’an gazed into the distance at Cangyun Lake. “Once the Lake Lord comes ashore, you might not get a chance to speak again. Using two talismans to buy your life—I think it’s quite a bargain.”
Du Yu gritted his teeth. “Then I’ll bet that Senior doesn’t want to dirty his hands and incur karma for nothing.”
Chen Ping’an shifted his gaze toward Suijia City, a faint, enigmatic smile on his face.
Du Yu didn’t dare draw his knife. Instead, he broke off a dry twig, crouched, and began drawing talismans on the ground, transmitting the incantations to the man through his mind-lake ripples.
With the Tortoise-Bearing-Steele Talisman on his person, he could conceal his form and aura extremely well, like an old turtle carrying a stele, silent for a thousand years as if dead.
But the cultivator’s perception of the outside world would also be constrained, the range shrinking considerably. After all, perfect solutions were rare in the world.
This talisman was one of the Ghost Axe Palace soldier cultivators’ trump cards for assassinations.
As for the Snow-and-Mud Talisman, it was a talisman many mountain array masters dreamed of—also known as the “Flying Bird Script” talisman of Ghost Axe Palace, with a long history. It was the founding ancestor’s specialty, but later generations mostly got only the skin and missed the marrow. Du Yu was no exception. His mother, however, was a master of it, the best Snow-and-Mud Talisman painter in the sect in three hundred years. She had once privately taught this talisman to a great cultivator from a top-tier immortal mansion, greatly boosting his dharma power. When Ghost Axe Palace found out, before they could say anything, another mountain hostile to that cultivator came demanding an explanation. The two sides quarreled bitterly, but in the end it was brushed aside. The punishment for his mother from the ancestral hall was merely ten years of seclusion in reflection. For a cultivator, ten years was but a snap of the fingers—what kind of punishment was that? And the place of seclusion was a feng shui treasure land rich in spiritual energy. Du Yu only learned later that the top-tier great cultivator who had received the sect’s Snow-and-Mud Talisman had secretly visited Ghost Axe Palace, presumably to plead for his mother.
At first, Du Yu worried that this man was merely greedy for the two talismans, wanting to add skills to his repertoire but not actually skilled in talismans himself. Du Yu had prepared to waste a lot of breath, acting as an unwilling teacher. But the man only listened as Du Yu explained from start to finish—from the outlines of the two talismans to the specific incantations and critical details. He never asked a single question, just had Du Yu repeat everything three times. The second time, because Du Yu was so familiar with the talisman texts, he accidentally skipped a trivial phrase. He noticed the man’s eyes narrow slightly and saw him lift the Walking Mountain Staff that had been resting on the ground. Du Yu nearly slapped himself. He quickly made up for it, repeating the missing part word for word.
After three repetitions,
the man looked down at the two talismans on the ground.
Du Yu scarcely dared to breathe.
The man used his staff to draw talismans, copying them exactly, producing two relatively rough Tortoise-Bearing-Steele and Snow-and-Mud talismans. When the talismans were completed, a point of spiritual light connected, glowing faintly. Although the talisman’s gallbladder quality wasn’t high, the talismans were done.
Du Yu’s forehead beaded with sweat.
Mother dear, the way of talismans wasn’t this easy to enter! Otherwise, why hadn’t his father, despite his high realm, or the successive sect ancestors, ever been praised as “understanding the divine will”? Some cultivators were simply not suited for drawing talismans. That’s why Taoist talisman sects had the cruel saying: “At the first stroke of the brush, you know if it’s a ghost or a god.”
This senior was clearly a past master—likely a hidden talisman grandmaster!
All that pure martial artist talk was just a smokescreen…
But thinking about it, Du Yu found it baffling. If true, wasn’t this senior unreasonably overpowered?
Chen Ping’an used his staff to erase all four talismans from the ground, dispersing the gallbladder’s spiritual light. “Your sincerity is enough. How about we do some real business?”
Du Yu asked doubtfully, “What do you mean?”
Chen Ping’an took out the soldier’s armor pellet and the refined demon core from his sleeve. “They say walking the night path often leads to ghosts. My luck’s good today—I picked these up by the roadside earlier. I think they suit your cultivation. Interested? Want to buy?”
Du Yu put on a righteous expression. “Rarely does Senior part with such treasures. Name your price! Even if I have to sell everything I own, I, Du Yu, will pay a premium!”
Chen Ping’an nodded. Remembering something, he extended a finger, producing a jade-green water bead spinning in the air. He separated about one tael of water fortune essence from it, put away the larger bead, and smiled. “This is a gift from your Canal Lord’s wife—consider it my sincerity. You’re injured and need spiritual energy relief. This water fortune bead is a Water Goddess’s fundamental path material. Go ahead and refine it.”
Du Yu had no choice. He took the bead, lightly pressed it into his heart, and silently refined it. A strange expression crossed his face.
It really was a bead condensed from water fortune essence?
Not only was there no discomfort, but it felt like sweet rain falling on his mind-lake. His soul and spirit felt refreshingly invigorated.
Chen Ping’an smiled. “Alright, now for business. A piece of Divine Man Dew Armor of such rank, and a refined demon core with such great offensive power—how much are you willing to pay to pick them up cheap?”
Du Yu asked cautiously, “Senior, can we barter? I don’t have much immortal money on me, and I don’t have one of those legendary square-inch graves or inch-space grotto-heavens.”
Chen Ping’an nodded with a smile. “Of course.”
Du Yu took out a small, glittering embroidered pouch from his bosom. With gentle movements, he untied the drawstring and pulled out a folded page. When he spread it open, not a crease remained.
Du Yu said, “This item is exceptionally precious. I obtained it years ago in a fight, from a tunnel in a dilapidated ancient temple. My parents told me to keep it safe, saying it’s worth a fortune. To trade it, the minimum should be in Minor Summer Coins, or it wouldn’t do justice to this page of ancient Buddhist scripture.”
Chen Ping’an took the page. It was a golden-letter Buddhist sutra.
He smiled and put it away, then handed the armor pellet and demon core to Du Yu.
Chen Ping’an took a deep breath, turned to face Cangyun Lake, and rested both hands on his Walking Mountain Staff.
Du Yu instinctively stepped back.
A fierce look crossed Du Yu’s face, but he still dared not speak.
Deciding life and death was never an easy thing.
That was why Chen Ping’an hadn’t been able to completely hide that faint presence in his mood.
Earlier, on the bank of the Black River in Ghost-Lair Valley, after hearing Chen Ping’an’s promise, the Flooding Sea Prime Lord still turned to beg the even more faithless scholar, insisting that he swear an oath before she would open the riverbed restriction.
Probably because she sensed that at that moment, her life was already forfeit.
And at this moment, so was Du Yu’s.
At the edge of life and death, a cultivator’s intuition was always extremely accurate.
Du Yu spread his hands, staring blankly at the two treasures that had been lost and gained, only to fall into another’s hands again. He sighed, looked up, and smiled. “In that case, Senior still wants to do this trade with me—isn’t that taking off your pants to fart? Or are you deliberately forcing me to make the first move, hoping I’ll put on the Divine Man Dew Armor and hurl the demon core, so you can kill me with clear justification and fewer karmic consequences? Senior is truly a peak-dweller. Excellent calculation. If I had known that a shallow pond like the martial world could hold a senior of your caliber, I would never have been so arrogant and blind.”
Chen Ping’an looked into the distance and asked, “That Canal Lord’s wife said you’re the son of a dao couple?”
Du Yu nodded. “One surname Du, one surname Yu—so they named me Du Yu.”
Chen Ping’an turned and smiled. “Not a bad name.”
He raised his hand and waved. “Go. Don’t let me run into you again.”
Du Yu smiled bitterly. “I’m afraid if I turn around, I’ll die. Senior, I really don’t want to die here. It’s too humiliating.”
Chen Ping’an said, “Alright, then follow me for a while. I want to find that Zhaoxi Canal Lord. Do you know the way?”
Du Yu nodded.
So the two of them truly went over mountains and valleys together, heading toward Zhaoxi territory.
Along the way, Chen Ping’an asked about the situation on and off the mountains in Yin Screen Kingdom and a dozen other states.
Du Yu answered every question.
The senior skimmed across mountain ridges like a dragonfly touching water, his speed as fast as thunder. To Du Yu, watching the faint green silhouette, even flying was somewhat strenuous.
But whenever the man asked a question, he would walk on foot, giving Du Yu a chance to speak steadily.
As they walked through the forest, after learning about the so-called Golden Boy and Jade Maiden, Chen Ping’an smiled and asked, “That youth He Lu from Huangyue City, and the fairy Yan Qing from Baodong Celestial Realm—aren’t they just like talented scholars and beauties in martial arts tales? But because their respective factions are hostile, due to a century of enmity between their sects, they can’t become a dao couple?”
Du Yu said, “In Senior’s eyes, it may be laughable, but even I, when I see them, feel ashamed. Only then do I understand what true jade of the great path really is.”
Chen Ping’an didn’t comment.
They reached a mountaintop. Looking west, they could see the Zhaoxi territory, with the Water God shrine not far away.
Chen Ping’an asked, “You came for the treasure about to appear at the City God temple?”
Du Yu didn’t dare hide anything. “Besides me, there’s also one uncle-master and three junior brothers and sisters heading to Suijia City. But the rare treasure has already been claimed by Huangyue City and Baodong Celestial Realm. Ghost Axe Palace is just here to cheer on the side we’re closer to, Baodong Celestial Realm. I won’t lie to you, Senior—I was hoping to watch Huangyue and Baodong beat each other bloody, maybe see He Lu and Yan Qing meet and be forced to fight. They’d probably both have expressions like they’d eaten shit. That thought puts me in a good mood.”
Chen Ping’an smiled. “Would you call yourself a true villain?”
Du Yu laughed sheepishly. “Senior flatters me. This junior doesn’t deserve it.”
Chen Ping’an nodded. “That word ‘true’ does carry a lot of weight.”
Du Yu said sincerely, “Senior’s words may seem casual, but when you ponder them, every word is profound and enlightening.”
Chen Ping’an gave him a strange look. “Stealing my lines?”
Du Yu was baffled, trembling with fear, and fell silent.
They continued their journey.
Compared to that nearly abandoned Water Immortal Shrine, which didn’t even have a golden body inside, the Zhaoxi Canal Lord’s shrine was much grander and richer in incense.
Clearly, this Water Goddess knew how to manage.
Since she could suppress the other Canal Lord so thoroughly that her shrine was abandoned, she certainly wasn’t an easy mark.
As they descended the mountain, Chen Ping’an told Du Yu about the tragedy in Suijia City and asked him to inquire about the secret letter.
Du Yu figured he had already died twice tonight, so what was a little Canal Lord to him? He didn’t hesitate at all. Even if the Lord of Cangyun Lake stood before him now and provoked him, he’d still cut him down. If the senior hadn’t said to talk nicely, Du Yu would have kicked the door in, chopped the Zhaoxi Canal Lord half to death, and only then discussed business. After talking, one more chop to finish her off—that would soothe his anger. It was all Cangyun Lake’s bad feng shui that had him following behind that guy like a fawning dog. And the worst part was, he had to worry that even a single wag of his tail might get him slapped to death for no good reason.
Both men restrained their aura and walked down the mountain on foot to avoid alarming anyone.
Chen Ping’an asked casually, “If you had known about the Suijia City tragedy early on, what would you have done? Tell me your honest thoughts.”
Du Yu laughed. “Naturally, I’d mind my own business. A prefectural city’s City God isn’t some ordinary river-mother with a court appointment. Not to mention whether I could even kill him, the karma would be too heavy. Besides, grudges in the martial world and official disputes aren’t really interesting. When you turn them over, it’s always the same petty shit. But then again, up on the mountains, it’s not much better. People truly devoted to cultivation do exist, and not a few—neither harming nor saving anyone, just peaceful and quiet. It’s just that I have a restless nature, and my cultivation hit a bottleneck, so I go down to the martial world for amusement.”
Du Yu felt a bit nervous, so he added, “These heartfelt words of mine won’t offend Senior, will they?”
Chen Ping’an shook his head. “No. Seen too much, hard to stir.”
Du Yu was silent for a long time, then suddenly said, “But if I were the kind of peak-dweller my parents talk about, maybe I’d be enthusiastic about helping—or if the City God displeased me, I might just casually cut him down. As for the prefect’s unjust case, none of my business. I don’t get involved. That kind of thing is thankless work. Killing the City God—I wouldn’t do it for fame, only profit. A shattered golden body of a mountain or river deity is damn valuable. As for now, if there weren’t a rare treasure appearing, I’d just go to Suijia City, eat, drink, have fun, and then leave.”
Chen Ping’an said, “When you become that peak-dweller, you’ll find that a prefectural City God isn’t worth your interest in profit. Many things you obsess over today are just things you’ll laugh about in the future.”
Du Yu chewed on that for a moment, then self-deprecatingly said, “My talent is passable, but I don’t have the root bones for the path like the Huangyue City Lord or the Baodong Celestial Realm patriarch. Not to mention those two who have already attained the Dao—even He Lu and Yan Qing are mountains I can never climb over in this life. Sometimes, drinking alone in the martial world, I think drowning sorrows in wine isn’t a lie.”
Chen Ping’an asked, “In your years traveling, have you met those… people in the martial world you think are really foolish?”
Du Yu laughed. “Plenty. But most are dead. If they don’t die, it’s hard to see their character. If they die, it’s just that.”
Chen Ping’an nodded. “When you’re not so tense, you can say a few unpleasant truths.”
Du Yu was speechless.
It felt strange—and why did he almost feel a bit flattered?
They descended the mountain and walked along a wide, gurgling river for over ten li. Du Yu spotted the brightly lit shrine, its scale exceeding its rank, almost like a prince’s mansion. He pressed his hand on his saber hilt and said in a low voice, “Senior, something’s wrong. Could the Cangyun Lake Lord have arrived in person, waiting to ambush us?”
Chen Ping’an had been watching Du Yu all the way. Seeing no abnormality, he had earlier absorbed the pure water bead that should have been untampered with. But instead of directly refining it, he sent it to his water mansion for the green-clad lads to handle. He immersed his mind in his small inner world, using inner vision, his yin spirit condensed like a mustard seed, personally touring the water mansion. In the great outer world, that small water bead was like a massive object to his yin spirit in the small inner world. The green-clad lads, after receiving the water fortune bead, had been unusually cheerful, showing for the first time an expression of relief toward Chen Ping’an.
So he understood: the more of these, the better.
Thus, he wanted to visit the Zhaoxi Canal Lord’s shrine.
If he hadn’t been reluctant to barge into the Cangyun Lake Dragon Palace, he would have liked to do business with the Lake Lord himself.
Same trade, different methods.
The book of business he used with the likes of Du Yu and the Cangyun Canal Lord was different from the one he used with the Cloth-Clad Sect cultivators.
With the former, he haggled over every copper coin, considering whether to kill if shortchanged by a single bronze.
With the latter, he was willing to make less profit, even take a loss.
Hearing Du Yu’s warning, Chen Ping’an joked, “Earlier at the Water Immortal Shrine, weren’t you shouting that if the Lake Lord came ashore, you’d have a go at him?”
Du Yu laughed sheepishly. “After Senior taught me a lesson, I’m so jumpy now I see ghosts everywhere. Letting Senior laugh at me.”
Chen Ping’an patted his shoulder. “If there’s another fight, don’t say anything about giving way this time.”
Du Yu felt chagrined.
He wondered if he should find a chance to kill those street youths. If word got out, wouldn’t it be a huge joke?
But the man had already said with a smile, “If I didn’t kill them, and you go back and do it, is that your way of repaying favor for favor, teaching me how to be a man? Or do you think you’re lucky enough never to meet someone like me again?”
Du Yu’s heart chilled. He said firmly, “Senior’s earnest teachings, this junior will engrave on his heart!”
Chen Ping’an walked forward slowly, smiling. “It’s hard to be good to others. But is it so hard not to trample on common people and not do evil? Well, right. Doing whatever one pleases, with no restraint—who doesn’t long for that? Once you’ve learned immortal arts, you’re no longer a mortal, and a compassion that feels like a burden seems superfluous. Like a commoner looking at chickens in a cage or fish on a chopping board—suddenly turning vegetarian is indeed forcing it.”
Du Yu couldn’t tell for sure whether these words were spoken from the heart. So he kept his mouth shut and said nothing.
Chen Ping’an let out a soft sigh.
Even if he pressed down one line as hard as he could,
would it really matter?
He adjusted his bamboo hat and continued.
At the shrine’s outer gate,
Chen Ping’an stopped. “Go. Test the waters. If you die, I’ll definitely collect your corpse. Maybe even avenge you.”
Du Yu was speechless for a long moment, then said helplessly, “Senior truly… doesn’t treat this junior as an outsider.”
Du Yu clenched that soldier’s armor pellet, which immediately flowed like quicksilver over his body, covering him in the sect’s treasure—Divine Man Dew-Receiving Armor.
He strode boldly through the wide-open shrine gate.
Less than half an incense stick later, Du Yu came walking back, his face looking as if he’d eaten shit again. He stopped beside Chen Ping’an and whispered, “Yan Qing is inside as a guest. I didn’t want to cause trouble, so I didn’t handle the matter.”
Chen Ping’an wasn’t bothered. He asked curiously, “That fairy from Baodong Celestial Realm?”
Du Yu nodded emphatically. “The Baodong Celestial Realm cultivators just arrived at Cangyun Lake. Yan Qing has a cold personality and doesn’t like the lively atmosphere at the Dragon Palace, so she came here alone for some peace and quiet.”
Chen Ping’an asked, “He Lu isn’t here?”
Du Yu paused, then shook his head. “Senior, they wouldn’t be that bold, would they? The two sects are about to fight to the death at Suijia City, and they’d arrange a secret tryst here under the noses of their senior masters? The Zhaoxi Canal Lord would certainly keep her mouth shut and cover for them, but those two wouldn’t be that impatient, would they? One’s cold-natured, and He Lu is fairly dedicated to the path.”
Chen Ping’an laughed. “Baodong Celestial Realm made a big show of visiting the lake-bottom Dragon Palace. You know Yan Qing’s temperament. Would He Lu be unaware? Would Yan Qing know whether He Lu would understand? Does something like this need to be prearranged? With a big battle looming, if both sides are truly impartial and ready to fight, isn’t meeting tonight the last chance? But the commotion we caused at the Water Immortal Shrine—the Canal Lord’s wife going to the Dragon Palace to inform them—probably disrupted their heart-to-heart. Maybe He Lu is hiding somewhere right now, blaming you for ruining his good thing. And how did Yan Qing look at you in the shrine? What about the Zhaoxi Canal Lord’s expression and words? Can they verify my guess?”
Du Yu looked embarrassed. “Earlier, I was just thinking of barging in, swinging my blade, and earning some credit for Senior. So I really didn’t pay that much attention.”
Chen Ping’an didn’t rush to enter the shrine. He glanced at the uneasy Du Yu, then looked around and asked casually, “How did you even survive the martial world all this time? Or is it that Yin Screen and a dozen other kingdoms are all so simple and honest? But at the Water Immortal Shrine, it seemed to me that you cultivators, deities, and commoners weren’t exactly innocent.”
Du Yu had no choice but to say, “Compared to a senior who calculates people, events, hearts, and strategies flawlessly, this junior naturally looks foolish.”
Chen Ping’an smiled. “Calculate people, events, hearts, and strategies flawlessly—that’s a good phrase. I’ll remember it.”
Du Yu was inwardly depressed. What was there to remember?
Chen Ping’an started moving and crossed the shrine gate first.
The mansion was splendid, nothing like a shrine.
They arrived at an inner gate hung with a gold-lacquered plaque reading “Green Waters Flow Forever.”
A palace-garbed woman in phoenix crown and rainbow cape stood there, her demeanor graceful, her peach-blossom eyes slightly narrow, with a faint smile.
Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her was a young woman in white, wearing a golden phoenix-wing crown of exquisite craftsmanship. When a slight breeze passed, the golden phoenix tail feathers trembled, accompanied by a faint sound like a young phoenix’s call.
Chen Ping’an only glanced at the two women, then stared at the crown for a few more moments.
It should be a dharma artifact of decent quality.
Du Yu, following earlier instructions, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Chen Ping’an, their story being that they were old friends from the martial world. The senior’s name was “Chen Goodman,” a wandering rogue cultivator.
Before entering the shrine, Chen Ping’an had asked him if those inside could use the dharma art of “Grasping Mountains and Rivers.”
Du Yu nearly spat a mouthful of blood. Even the ancestors of Ghost Axe Palace needed a major sect treasure to use such a divine ability.
Otherwise, only the Huangyue City Lord, Yan Qing’s master, the Cangyun Lake Lord, or the Five Marchmount Deities could claim to grasp mountains and rivers on their own peaks.
Chen Ping’an smiled and said, “I, Brother Du Yu, have taken the liberty of visiting. We wish to ask the Canal Lord’s wife about a small matter.”
The Canal Lord’s wife smiled faintly. “Since you yourself say it’s a small matter, there’s no hurry. Tonight, I am drinking tea with Fairy Yan, and that is a big matter. Why don’t you and Immortal Master Du come back tomorrow?”
Du Yu would have applauded her if he dared to show anything.
What a heroine! Her heroism was not inferior to his own earlier line, “I’ll let you make the first move.”
But it made sense.
Who was Yan Qing?
And the shrine was on the shore of Cangyun Lake.
Plus, the Baodong Celestial Realm immortals were guests at the Dragon Palace.
How much face could a rogue cultivator who called Du Yu “brother” have?
Du Yu just kept his eyes down, his nose aligned with his heart, but his eyes shifted slightly toward the sky.
Now he was afraid the sky would fall.
But maybe it would be good if it fell.
If this senior lightly tapped Yan Qing once or twice, regardless of the force, Baodong Celestial Realm’s patriarch, known for his fierce protectiveness, would not let it slide. The Cangyun Lake Lord would likely find it hard to stand idly by…
Then there would be a battle with all sorts of dharma artifacts flying and covering the sky.
But the reason Du Yu was grim, without much secret glee, was that he feared Baodong Celestial Realm and Cangyun Lake would gang up on a rogue cultivator.
And then end up getting soloed by that guy—both factions together.
Du Yu knew this thought was absurd and laughable.
This guy, no matter how strong, would logically have a very hard time just against the Baodong Celestial Realm patriarch alone. Surrounded, he might not even escape with his life.
But Du Yu had an intuition telling him that the most unlikely outcome might be the truth.
Chen Ping’an got straight to the point. “In Suijia City, I learned that the secret letter the deceased prefect sent before his death—not only did you personally open it, but you also went with the messenger to the capital of Yin Screen Kingdom. Correct?”
The fairy Yan Qing remained aloof and indifferent to these mundane matters.
Du Yu believed that even if she heard, it was as if she hadn’t. As his parents had said, for true cultivation prodigies like Yan Qing and He Lu, worldly affairs were like snow-and-mud talismans—their minds were mirrors, leaving no trace.
The Zhaoxi Canal Lord still wore a calm expression. She smiled faintly. “You’ve asked your question, and I’ve heard it. Now can you and Immortal Master Du leave?”
Chen Ping’an smiled. “Canal Lord’s wife, what you did back then was your duty. I’m not here to reproach you. I just think that since things have come to this, and Suijia City is about to fall into chaos, these old, stale matters… even if you took them out to air, they wouldn’t affect the grand situation. I hope the Canal Lord’s wife…”
The Zhaoxi Canal Lord’s face suddenly flushed with anger. She stepped forward majestically and interrupted the rogue cultivator. “Get out!”
Chen Ping’an’s expression remained unchanged. “Bringing up old matters is indeed an outsider’s meddling, and it’s forcing the Canal Lord’s wife. If you’re worried about the Lake Lord’s side, I can…”
The Zhaoxi Canal Lord abruptly raised her wide sleeve and pointed at the gate. “Get out! What do you think you are, spewing nonsense here and not afraid to defile Fairy Yan’s ears? If not for Immortal Master Du’s face, a piece of rotten mud like you—a rogue cultivator—wouldn’t even have gotten through the gate! Do you think this Water God shrine is some kind of place?
Chen Ping’an turned his head to look at Du Yu. “Brother Du Yu, when you visited earlier, did you only have eyes for Fairy Yan?”
Du Yu looked as if he was attending his own funeral. His heart was churning. He didn’t dare show any slip, so he strained to keep his face straight, which made his features twist.
The shrine complex had many buildings.
Just then, on a raised eave appeared a handsome young man with his hands clasped behind his back. His wide sleeves rustled in the wind, and a yellowish bamboo flute was tied at his waist. He looked ethereal.
He said softly, “Canal Lord’s wife, let others off where you can.”
Yan Qing’s eyes lit up, but she quickly resumed her cold expression.
Du Yu, having sharp eyes, felt like he’d eaten shit again—hot shit this time.
Just as the senior had predicted.
Earlier at the Water Immortal Shrine, He Lu had probably been wandering somewhere nearby, looking for an opportunity to meet Yan Qing. Then He Lu had sensed something, but he never came too close.
After all, with the battle imminent, meeting his beloved was the top priority.
As for the rest, given He Lu’s temperament, he would stand by at a distance, watch the fires from the opposite shore—nothing more.
Chen Ping’an smiled. “He’s much better at hiding his movements than you are.”
The Canal Lord’s wife, upon seeing the lofty young man, immediately changed her demeanor. She curtsied gracefully and said softly, “Greetings, Immortal Master He.”
Chen Ping’an patted Du Yu’s shoulder. “Brother Du Yu, tonight has nothing to do with you anymore. One man, one deed. Don’t interfere.”
Du Yu wished he could die on the spot.
He was already up to his crotch in yellow mud—even jumping into Cangyun Lake couldn’t wash it off. Whether this guy escaped or died here, Du Yu would lose a layer of skin, maybe become a rat crossing the street in the eyes of cultivators from a dozen kingdoms, with everyone kicking him while he was down.
Du Yu forced his face straight and said, “Brother Chen, I won’t leave. Your business is… my business, Du Yu!”
The handsome youth’s lips curled in a faint, mocking smile.
But when he turned his gaze to the elegant Yan Qing standing there, his eyes softened.
Chen Ping’an looked up at the plaque again. “Green Waters Flow Forever.”
The calligraphy was average, but the meaning was good, with a bit of depth.
Chen Ping’an smiled. “Canal Lord’s wife, what if I buy that old story with immortal money? I can also include any post-facto wrath from the Cangyun Lake Lord in the price.”
Du Yu’s eyelids twitched.
Here it comes.
What he feared most was this senior pulling out his unfathomable book of business.
Perhaps because of He Lu’s words, they had had an effect.
Although the Zhaoxi Canal Lord still looked displeased, she no longer lashed out. She waved her hand. “Another day. Tonight, this place is closed to guests.”
Du Yu said nothing.
Chen Ping’an thought for a moment. “Then we’ll come calling tomorrow.”
Hearing the word “we,”
Du Yu’s heart turned to ashes.
Chen Ping’an, holding his Walking Mountain Staff, turned and walked away.
There was still time at Suijia City, and he didn’t want to make too much noise.
But Chen Ping’an was a little puzzled.
Why hadn’t the Cangyun Lake Lord and the Baodong Celestial Realm patriarch at the lake-bottom Dragon Palace used the Grasping Mountains and Rivers divine ability to spy on this place yet?
Surely they weren’t more powerful than the Law-Keeper Patriarch of the Cloth-Clad Sect.
But Chen Ping’an stopped.
Du Yu was puzzled.
Chen Ping’an looked back.
The Zhaoxi Canal Lord pretended to frown with confusion and asked, “What else do you want? Are you determined to stay?”
Chen Ping’an started to laugh.
If this Canal Lord’s wife were just a cultivator rather than a shrine water deity, perhaps her mind-lake ripples to him would have been detected by the higher-realm He Lu and Yan Qing.
Just now, she had spoken a sentence silently, smiling teasingly.
“You bastard rogue cultivator—walking all the way here has already dirtied my mansion’s floor. Tomorrow, bring a bucket of water and wash it yourself, or don’t come in.”
Chen Ping’an wasn’t particularly angry, but he found it nauseating.
And similar to Du Yu’s earlier carelessly spoken “a night of spring wind,”
the word “bastard” was hardly a pleasant term anywhere in the Haoran Heaven.
He Lu began to frown.
Yan Qing also looked impatient.
In an instant,
the entire Water God shrine shook.
On the square outside the mansion bearing the plaque “Green Waters Flow Forever,” a huge spiderweb of cracks exploded instantly.
Chen Ping’an was already on the steps, still holding his Walking Mountain Staff. His other hand gripped the Zhaoxi Canal Lord’s throat, slowly lifting her into the air.
He looked up. The Canal Lord’s wife, all grace gone, her golden body shaking as if struck by lightning, her divine light scattering, unable to gather. She could only pound his arm with both hands.
Yan Qing had already leaped sideways.
She flicked her wrist, and a gleam slid from her sleeve. A short, sheathless sword appeared in her hand.
He Lu grasped his bamboo flute and said solemnly, “I’ll say it again: let others off where you can.”
Chen Ping’an turned to look at them. One high, one low, but in the same direction. He smiled. “This Canal Lord’s wife isn’t a person, either. And you cultivators—isn’t it better to have as little to do with the mortal world as possible? You came here to meet. Your respective sects may know. The Zhaoxi Canal Lord’s Water God shrine is just a step that Huangyue City and Baodong Celestial Realm have tacitly accepted. What, you want to stop me? Be careful—if you break this step, neither of your sects will have a place to stand.”
The Canal Lord’s wife struggled, her beauty utterly ghastly.
Du Yu actually felt a trace of exhilaration.
After reasoning all the way—whether the reasoning held up or not—it seemed the punches that came after were more satisfying.
He Lu smiled slightly. “I advise you not to seek death…”
Yan Qing’s vision blurred.
She wanted to strike, to swing her sword.
But she hesitated for a moment and stepped back.
She summoned a defensive treasure from her sect to shield herself.
As for the Canal Lord’s wife, who had been casually thrown aside, she didn’t even spare a glance.
In a cultivator’s battle, when life hung by a thread, anyone distracted died first.
But suddenly Yan Qing’s heartstrings quivered. She turned her head.
A green figure appeared on that high eave. It seemed to deliver a hand-knife strike to He Lu’s neck, sending him flying backward with a bang. Then the green robe followed like a shadow, pressing one palm against He Lu’s face and shoving downward. He Lu smashed through the entire roof ridge and crashed heavily to the ground. From the sound, his body bounced once before lying limp.
He wouldn’t die—he definitely wouldn’t die.
He Lu was wearing a high-grade dharma robe.
Yan Qing’s mind was in chaos.
But the man appeared beside her in an instant, as if using a space-shrinking divine ability.
Yan Qing was about to thrust her sword.
He flicked his finger, striking the blade precisely. Yan Qing’s face paled slightly. She began to move,
but the man had already brushed past her, stepping down on the forehead of the Canal Lord’s wife, who had just come to her senses. He exerted sudden force, and his qi roared like wind and thunder.
Another step.
The Zhaoxi Canal Lord’s head and upper body were buried deep in the pit.
Chen Ping’an still held his Walking Mountain Staff, standing at the edge of the pit. He said to Yan Qing, “Aren’t you going to see your lover?”
Yan Qing was about to rush over, but when she saw the movement of the hand holding the staff, she stopped and stepped back, ready to flee. If she could escape to Cangyun Lake, she would join forces with her sect to surround and kill this fiend!
Chen Ping’an looked at Du Yu and laughed. “Are you blind? What kind of shitty golden boy and jade maiden are these? Born celestial dao couple?”
Yan Qing’s face turned as cold as frost. For the first time, such intense hatred and killing intent appeared in her spiritual eyes.
But the young rogue cultivator in the bamboo hat only stomped lightly, sending the Canal Lord’s wife flying out of the pit with a kick toward the gate. Holding his staff, he strode off, turning his back to her and her sword. The green-robed guest raised a hand and waved. “Go take a look.”
Finally, he dragged the Zhaoxi Canal Lord out of the mansion, heading toward Cangyun Lake.
Du Yu, hunched over, trotted after him like a lackey.
Yan Qing stood frozen in place.