Chapter 503: Not Listening to Reason is Best

Chapter 503: Not Listening to Reason is Best

Along the emerald-green Zao Creek Canal, water plants grew thick, swaying with the current like water ghosts beckoning.

In many urban legends and literary notes, there was talk of water ghosts seeking replacements, a cycle of vengeance and retribution.

But once separated by the realms of yin and yang, life and death, ordinary drowned ghosts—unlike cultivators with myriad techniques—had no such simple means of liberation. Yes, ghosts from the underworld could harm the living, but self-redemption was a fiction, nothing more than scholars passing along hearsay.

Leaving the Water God Temple, Chen Ping'an dragged the still-unconscious canal master's wife as he sped toward Cangyun Lake. Du Yu, still clad in the Divine Man Sweet Dew Armor, followed on the wind. Forced to accompany him in the direction of Cangyun Lake, Du Yu had grown more observant from being around this senior. He tentatively asked if it would be better to remove the conspicuous Sweet Dew Armor, lest it cost the senior the element of surprise.

Chen Ping'an said no.

Du Yu felt a little reassured.

But the next sentence made his heart leap to his throat. The senior said slowly, "When we reach Cangyun Lake's shore, there might be a big fight. You don't need to do anything—just treat it as another gamble with your life. Stand there, deaf and dumb. Anyway, no matter how bad things get, they can't get much worse for you, and you might even recoup some of your losses."

Du Yu laughed. "Don't worry. I probably can't help much, but I guarantee I won't cause trouble."

Chen Ping'an smiled faintly.

Du Yu glanced at the canal master's wife and felt as if he were in another life. His parents always said that great cultivators had profound techniques—whether the city lord of Huangyue City or the patriarch of Baodong Fairyland, as long as they had roots and backing, their actions could be traced, and everything could be negotiated. So they weren't necessarily frightening. What was truly fearsome was the phrase "the impermanence of worldly affairs," written on paper, because it was so light and elusive.

Du Yu used to hate hearing this, letting these grand but intangible principles go in one ear and out the other.

So this night's excursion through the Cangyun Lake region felt more thrilling than all his previous journeys through the martial world combined. At this point, Du Yu didn't want to think too much, nor would he ask questions. Whatever the senior said, he'd just go along with it. The calculations of those at the mountain peaks were beyond his understanding. Rather than guessing blindly, he might as well leave it to fate.

This out-of-town senior, with his murky methods, had one good quality: he was genuine.

So along the way, he answered every question. Du Yu decided to throw caution to the wind and speak his mind. Instead of playing dumb or acting clever, it was better to be honest in both words and deeds. After all, the senior had surely seen through his true nature by now.

Chen Ping'an seemed to remember something. He dropped the canal master's wife on the ground and abruptly stopped, but didn't wake her.

Du Yu, lost in thought, overshot the green-robed man by over ten zhang. He hurried back on the wind, looking around, hand on the knife at his waist. "Senior, an ambush? Should I go test the waters first?"

"If the Cangyun Lake lord and the Baodong Fairyland patriarch are as powerful as they say, why would they need to ambush us? They'd just set up their formation by the lake, and you'd be chilled to the bone at the first glance." Chen Ping'an shook his head and asked Du Yu a question. "In the dozen or so countries including Yimping, there're quite a few cultivators. Hasn't anyone ever wanted to go out further, to see the world? Like the Skeletal Shore to the south, or the Dayuan Dynasty in the central region."

Du Yu shook his head. "I can't speak for other cultivators, but at our Ghost Axe Palace, from the first day we step onto the path of cultivation, there's a sect ancestral precept: disciples shouldn't travel far, but cultivate peacefully at home. My parents often tell their own disciples that this place has the richest spiritual energy, a veritable paradise. If outsiders get jealous, it'll bring disaster. But I never really believed that, so during my years of wandering the martial world, actually..."

Du Yu hesitated and stopped.

Chen Ping'an said, "You've already answered my question honestly. As for the rest, you don't have to say it. I don't have much interest in your trivial and messy stories from the martial world."

Du Yu immediately understood. He moved a few steps closer to the senior and lowered his voice. "It's a strange thing. My parents dote on me, but whenever I bring this up, they become evasive. They just say that ignorance is bliss about certain things I shouldn't know. I naturally didn't dare to overstep, so I came up with a compromise: using my travels in the martial world as an excuse, I ventured a little further each time, but always stopped before going too far. After exploring all directions, I finally managed to piece together a bit of the picture."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "So you've savored quite a few flavors in the martial world?"

Du Yu chuckled. "My childish games can't compare to the senior's ability to traverse continents on the wind and roam freely across thousands of miles of mountains and rivers."

Du Yu continued, "In the end, I discovered that the borders of these dozen or so countries seem to have an invisible natural divide. The spiritual energy nearby is especially thin, as if some celestial on the clouds had drawn a circle on the mortal map—both to protect us and to keep outsiders from barging in and causing trouble. It's something no one dares to cross by even a hair."

Chen Ping'an said softly, "Similar to Cui Dongshan's technique of drawing a thunder pool with his flying sword? What's the purpose?"

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment but found no clues, so he set the matter aside.

But if this was related to the appearance of the treasure in Suijia City, as a potential clue running like a hidden thread, then he would need to be extra careful.

So in the coming trip to Cangyun Lake, if things couldn't be settled amicably and the worst-case scenario arose, he couldn't just go all out and reveal his full hand for the sake of a satisfying fight.

That swordsman-level sword on his back had to remain his trump card.

The flying sword Fifteen inside his gourd had already appeared at the Narcissus Shrine, so the maid would have described him as a "swordsman." He could use it depending on the situation, but he needed to instruct Fifteen to fly a bit slower when it first left the gourd during a fight.

As for the walnut bracelet on his wrist and the three talismans from the Xiaoyun Palace of the Dayuan Dynasty, at some seemingly "critical and dangerous" moments, he could pick one or two to show off under this... moonlight.

As for his martial realm and physical toughness, he'd keep them both suppressed at the peak of the fifth realm.

His earlier punches against the Zao Creek canal master and He Lu inside the Water God Temple were deliberate misdirection—a way to reveal his "limits" while making it look like he was going all out without holding back.

Some things, no matter how well he hid them, might not work. After all, he wasn't the only one with the good habit of assuming the worst. So it was better to let the enemy "see for themselves."

Careful deliberation, over and over again. Mulling over each matter multiple times.

Walking alone through three continents and thousands of miles of the martial world.

This was how Chen Ping'an had always gotten by.

The only difference now was that he practiced more boxing each day and carried more tools.

He had also changed from a barefoot youth in straw sandals to a white-robed figure with a jade hairpin, and now to a traveler in a bamboo hat and green robe, leaning on a walking stick.

As for drawing a thunder pool with a flying sword.

Du Yu pretended he hadn't heard anything and didn't understand.

Just as earlier, when the senior casually made the empty wine jug disappear—probably into a "square-inch tomb" that his parents often talked about with envy and longing—Du Yu pretended not to see that either.

Chen Ping'an knocked the walking stick on the canal master's wife's forehead to wake her.

This Zao Creek canal master was indeed more cunning than the earlier Narcissus Shrine goddess. She lay sprawled on the ground, showing no intention of getting up, and said in a soft voice, "Offending the great master is my capital crime. I will never forget your mercy in not killing me."

Chen Ping'an said bluntly, "I'm going to kill your lake lord and smash his dragon palace to pieces. You'll guide the way."

The canal master's wife, richly dressed and exquisitely made up, showed no change in expression. "Does the great master have a grudge against the lake lord? Could there be some misunderstanding?"

Chen Ping'an frowned. "Enough talk. Get up and lead the way."

The palace-robed woman regained some of the dignified air she'd had in the Water God Temple. She rose gracefully and curtsied with a thousand charms.

But then the green-robed man in the bamboo hat kicked her flying.

She clenched her teeth and said nothing, just silently got back up.

The canal master's wife was filled with hatred for this mongrel rogue cultivator, and by extension, she also hated the unlucky Ghost Axe Palace military cultivator.

But if she didn't have the ability to read people and situations, she wouldn't have reached her current divine position. A drowning ghost who had been punished by being placed in a pig cage and sunk in water, who had crawled step by step to where she was today, even pushing aside the Peony Creek canal master to the point where his temple was abandoned and his golden body moved into the lake, calling herself brother and sister with the three river gods under the lake lord—she hadn't relied on her golden body cultivation or mortal incense.

She pretended to be terrified and asked in a trembling voice, "Does the great master wish to enter the water and swim, or travel on the wind along the shore?"

Chen Ping'an said, "Walk along the shore."

Though startled, the canal master's wife didn't dare defy this moody eccentric. She had no choice but to walk ahead slowly.

Rogue cultivators in the world really were all despicable.

When they reached the junction of Zao Creek and Cangyun Lake, this man would end up kneeling and kowtowing before being fed to the fish.

But she couldn't help feeling suspicious. Where had the profoundly skilled Yan Qing and He Lu, the pride of Huangyue City—that golden boy and jade girl—disappeared to?

Sure enough, these so-called cloud-dwelling celestial guests and grove-spring immortals were all hypocrites, hard-hearted, and no good either.

Du Yu found it extremely amusing.

Earlier, at the Water God Temple, the canal master's wife had been unconscious, so she'd missed that wonderful scene.

If she'd seen it, this little river goddess probably wouldn't have any bad schemes brewing in her belly now.

Chen Ping'an thought of a certain maid beside the Peony Creek canal master, then looked at the Zao Creek canal master in front of him. He turned to Du Yu and smiled. "Brother Du Yu, as expected, one's true character shows when one's life hangs by a thread."

Du Yu hurriedly forced himself to call him "Brother Chen" and then said, "Just spouting nonsense."

Chen Ping'an said no more.

Du Yu fell silent as well, walking slowly.

As for the senior's talk of killing the lake lord and smashing the dragon palace, Du Yu didn't believe it—not because the senior lacked the divine power, but because... it didn't fit the senior's business sense.

In the Water God Temple, one hand knife from the senior had struck He Lu in the neck, and the latter had no power to resist, smashing straight through the roof.

Thus, the reason Yan Qing could still be standing at the end, unlike He Lu lying on his back or the Zao Creek canal master with her head in the ground, wasn't because the senior was tender toward the fairer sex. As for the real reason, Du Yu couldn't guess. He just somehow felt that this immensely powerful senior, when it came to beautiful women—whether cultivators or deities—was truly merciless once he decided to strike.

Chen Ping'an asked casually, "Earlier at the temple, Yan Qing held her sword but didn't draw it, instead trying to retreat. She must have known she couldn't win and wanted to go to Cangyun Lake for reinforcements. Du Yu, tell me, what was the deepest thought in her mind? Was it more about saving herself, more about self-preservation, or more about saving He Lu?"

Du Yu laughed. "Yan Qing did the right thing—self-preservation and saving others, both achieved. I believe even if He Lu saw it, he wouldn't hold a grudge. If put in the same situation, He Lu would likely make the same choice. In the martial world, in similar circumstances, many heroes and good men, even knowing it's an enemy trap, still charge in headlong to die. Ridiculous, yes, but also admirable... at least a little."

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment, seeming to understand, and nodded. "Like attracts like. He Lu and Yan Qing, people like them, can live in harmony with the Great Dao and be of one mind."

The Zao Creek canal master ahead, eavesdropping on their conversation, sneered inwardly.

Trying to fool me?

A mongrel rogue cultivator like you, calling Du Yu your brother, dares to say Yan Qing knew she couldn't win? Bullshit!

But the canal master's heart quivered slightly. What if, what if it was true?

After all, before this rogue cultivator, she was as weak as a clay dog or a tile chicken—that was an indisputable fact.

Never mind. One step at a time. Once she reached Cangyun Lake, everything would come to light. If the sky fell, the lake lord and the Baodong Fairyland patriarch would hold it up.

She really didn't believe anyone could withstand the combined attack of those two immortals. This man would be skinned, tendons pulled, soul trapped, and turned into a water lantern. She would definitely beg the lake lord for a wisp of his soul to keep in her Water God Temple!

Chen Ping'an glanced at the Zao Creek canal master ahead. "A creature like this, like a brothel madam in the mortal world—how does she manage to thrive so well at Cangyun Lake?"

Du Yu tentatively said, "Maybe that's exactly how one thrives?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Brother Du Yu, you've spoken another sensible word."

Du Yu held back, but finally couldn't help bursting into laughter. For tonight, it was the first time he felt so carefree and joyful.

Seeing Du Yu getting carried away, Chen Ping'an curled his lips. "That funny?"

Du Yu, as if choked, immediately shut up.

Chen Ping'an was silent for a long time, then asked, "If you were that scholar, what would you do? Let's split it into three parts. First, if he luckily escaped Suijia City and took refuge with a family friend of his elders, what would he choose? Second, if his imperial examinations went smoothly and he ranked high, entering the Yimping Hanlin Academy. Third, if he gained fame, had a bright future, was sent out as an official, returned to his old haunt, and was discovered by the City God Temple, falling into a death trap."

Du Yu grinned.

But this time, Chen Ping'an didn't want a quick answer. He said, "Really put yourself in his shoes. Don't be in a hurry to answer me."

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Du Yu thought seriously for a long time and slowly said, "First, if I had the chance to know that there are people above people, and that cultivators exist in the world, I would strive to cultivate immortal techniques and try to walk the path of cultivation. If that really didn't work, I'd study hard, get an official position, follow the same path as that scholar. Revenge, of course, but I'd have to survive first. The better I lived, the greater the chance for revenge. Second, if I suspected the City God Temple was involved beforehand, I'd be even more careful. I wouldn't leave the capital until I'd become a high-ranking official in the six ministries of Yimping, and I definitely wouldn't easily return to Suijia City. I'd aim for a single deadly strike. If I didn't know the involvement was so deep and was still kept in the dark, I'd probably be like that scholar—thinking that as a commandery governor, a frontier official governing a region, young and promising, a future minister favored by the emperor, dealing with some bandits and a cold case would be more than enough. Third, as long as I could live, I'd do whatever the City God told me to do. I wouldn't say 'death is nothing.'"

Chen Ping'an said, "So you see, it's still very hard for us to truly put ourselves in someone else's shoes."

Du Yu felt a little embarrassed.

He had probably thought too shallowly. The senior beside him was a true mountain-top master; his view of worldly affairs would surely deserve the word "profound."

After that, Chen Ping'an didn't speak again.

Du Yu was happy with this, feeling much lighter.

His brain had never worked as fast and laboriously as it did tonight.

Compared to the earlier Peony Creek at the Narcissus Shrine, the Zao Creek was wider and deeper. Many large villages originally built along the Peony Creek had, over centuries, begun to migrate to this better-watered Zao Creek. Over time, the Peony Creek Narcissus Shrine's incense offerings naturally declined. It was no wonder that the Green Water Palace behind them was so splendid—divine golden bodies relied on incense, and buildings relied on silver.

That Peony Creek canal master, who had already fled back to the dragon palace at the bottom of the lake, had lost to the colleague walking ahead of Chen Ping'an in every way. Otherwise, years ago, the Cangyun Lake lord wouldn't have sent the Zao Creek canal master to handle that secret letter, granting her the lake lord's token so she could leave the Zao Creek territory, cross mountains and rivers, and go to the capital to pull strings. Du Yu knew the ins and outs of the many deities of Cangyun Lake. According to this Ghost Axe Palace military cultivator, the Cangyun Lake dragon palace was a mountain-side pleasure den, specifically used by the lake lord to win over rich and idle noble offspring from elsewhere. And those renowned beauties, the dragon palace's young maids—where did they come from? Naturally, aside from the nearly abandoned Zao Creek, the three other rivers and one canal frequently had floods. In earlier years, a passing master taught them a solution: select a virgin maiden of sixteen, throw her into the water as a sacrificial apology. During severe droughts, local officials would go to the city's lake lord temple to pray for rain, which often worked. After the rain fell, they also needed to throw a woman into the water to repay the lake lord's grace.

Du Yu said all these schemes were the Zao Creek canal master's doing.

She would often disguise herself as a common woman, like an official traveling incognito, secretly touring the Cangyun Lake domain, looking for young girls with good cultivation aptitude and beautiful faces. When they came of age, the three lakes and two canals would be hit by torrential rains and floods, or by spells that drove away rain clouds, causing drought for thousands of miles. Over centuries, this rule had become routine. Local governments were familiar with the procedure; even the common people had resigned themselves to it. Over time, they grew accustomed to this "calm and favorable weather" achieved at the cost of one person's suffering, and even treated it as a festive occasion, making a big show of it. Each time, the selected woman would be dressed in a wedding gown, made up radiantly, and her family would receive a generous sum of silver. The old folks in the alleys all said that after the woman was thrown into the water, the lake lord would quickly take her back to his dragon palace at the bottom of the lake. There, in that watery fairyland, she would become a carefree immortal, adorned in gold and jade—a great blessing.

As for connecting with noble sons from the capital and local areas, the specific welcoming and sending-off were all handled by this water goddess in person. She was a smooth and resourceful operator, deeply valued by the lake lord. However, there was one thing where she couldn't compare to the Peony Creek canal master, who was of equal rank: the latter was a trusted follower who had served the lake lord before he was officially enfeoffed by the Yimping court.

Earlier, when they first arrived at the Zao Creek temple, Du Yu had spoken of this. He had some admiration for the canal master's wife, rumored to be more elegant and noble than even a queen or consort. He said she was a deity with a brain, and it was a shame she was still just a little river goddess. If he were the Cangyun Lake lord, he would have already helped her obtain a river god's position. As for a river god of a major river, forget it—Yimping had no great rivers, and most of the country's water transport seemed to be monopolized by Cangyun Lake.

They were now less than ten li from Cangyun Lake.

Chen Ping'an stopped.

The Zao Creek canal master hesitated and also stopped.

She turned around. Her peach-blossom eyes naturally shimmered with watery light. She looked confused, pitiful, as if wanting to ask but not daring—but inside, she was sneering. Why stop? You had such big talk earlier; now you know the danger ahead?

Du Yu had already made up his mind to just watch the show. The senior had said so himself.

Chen Ping'an turned to look back.

It was Yan Qing who had followed.

He Lu was not tailing her; he might be lurking further away, hidden. This young genius of cultivation was probably skilled in escape or concealment techniques.

But his body was a bit weak.

Otherwise, Chen Ping'an would find it troublesome.

A white-robed, petite golden-crowned young female cultivator of Baodong Fairyland, gliding on the wind. Compared to Du Yu beside him, there was no denying that both male and female cultivators looked more pleasing to the eye when they were good-looking, their figures in flight were indeed more delightful.

Du Yu noticed the senior glance at him with what seemed like pity.

What? Was the senior going to send him alone into the trap at Cangyun Lake again?

Senior, you said I could just stand by and watch the excitement! You're a man of your word; going back on it now isn't good, is it?

Chen Ping'an said, "Yan Qing has caught up."

Du Yu followed his gaze and indeed saw a small white speck at the horizon. Du Yu was stunned. "Is this Yan Fairy out of her mind? She doesn't believe it, and wants to spar with... with Brother Chen?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Some people's thoughts, no matter how I try, I just can't understand."

The Zao Creek canal master felt greatly relieved.

With Yan Qing here, even if they weren't yet at Cangyun Lake's shore, she herself probably wasn't in much danger anymore.

She didn't know why the two hadn't fought to the death at her temple, but since Yan Qing was stubbornly following, it meant that if this mongrel rogue cultivator dared to strike again, it would be a complete falling out. Fighting in the Green Water Palace might have unforeseen circumstances, but here, just a few steps from Cangyun Lake, what waves could a crude rogue cultivator and a Ghost Axe Palace cultivator who only knew how to flatter the Baodong Fairyland second patriarch make?

Yan Qing, holding the sheathed short sword, descended gracefully, landing only ten paces from the bamboo-hatted green-robed man. And she continued to walk forward.

The Zao Creek canal master, who fancied herself somewhat discerning, felt even more elated. Look at that—Yan Qing really didn't take this man seriously. She knew he excelled in close combat, but she didn't care.

Du Yu watched this famous young fairy. They said she and He Lu were a dragon among men and a phoenix among women, a match made in heaven.

No matter how jealous or envious he was before, now, at this moment, looking at Yan Qing—setting aside He Lu—she really was beautiful.

This made Du Yu feel a bit annoyed.

A plate of mountain delicacies placed right in front of his mouth but forever out of reach was more disgusting than being forced to eat a mouthful of hot crap.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Something else?"

Her expression was cold, and she continued walking forward, her gaze resolute. The carefully honed heart of a cultivator had clearly calmed, regained its clarity.

Chen Ping'an raised his walking stick, pointing at the nearly flawless fairy in demeanor and presence. "You can stop now."

Yan Qing did not insist on going further; she stopped indeed.

Du Yu sniffed subtly. As expected of a fairy hailed as a congenital Dao embryo, the orchid-like fragrance she carried from birth was not to be found in the mortal world.

Yan Qing spoke, "He tried to dissuade you. Why did you have to be so ruthless with him?"

The originally relaxed Zao Creek canal master's mouth twitched.

Ruthless?

Cultivators of high and low realms, deities near mountains and waters—there were no true fools.

The canal master's wife glanced from the corner of her eye at the Zao Creek water nearby, intending to use her divine power to turn into mist and flee.

Chen Ping'an, with his back to Du Yu and the Zao Creek canal master, flicked his wrist. The walking stick in his hand flew backward, hitting the canal master's wife squarely on the forehead. A heavy blow sent her seeing stars, staggering.

The walking stick returned to its original path and was caught again by Chen Ping'an. "Yan Qing, you had tea tonight at this Zao Creek canal master's Water God Temple. Was it good?"

Though young, Yan Qing was a clear-minded piece of cultivation jade. She caught the sarcasm in his words and said calmly, "If the tea is good, it's good tea. When, where, and with whom one drinks tea are all external matters. For a cultivator, an untainted mind is unaffected even when mired in mud."

Chen Ping'an waved his hand, not wanting to waste words with her.

But Yan Qing said, "You can go ahead to the Cangyun Lake dragon palace. Each walks his own path. I won't make any extra moves."

Chen Ping'an turned around, signaling the canal master's wife, who was rubbing her forehead, to continue leading the way.

Yan Qing followed behind them.

Chen Ping'an didn't mind.

A moment later, Yan Qing, still staring at the long sword on the green-robed man's back, asked again, "Are you a sword cultivator deliberately traveling in the guise of a martial artist?"

But the man remained silent.

Du Yu chuckled, light on his feet. Making Yan Qing follow behind him, eating dust, was like drinking fine wine.

After walking another li or so, Yan Qing asked again, "Why are you so insistent on asking about an old mortal affair? Is it a key clue to obtaining that treasure?"

Still no answer.

Yan Qing, composed, asked again, "What is your name? Since you're a master, you wouldn't hide your identity, would you?"

Du Yu couldn't resist teasing her a bit. He turned as he walked and grinned. "I dare not hide it from Fairy Yan. This big brother of mine is named Chen Haoren, a wandering cultivator. He's a true chivalrous soul, traveling with his sword, always ready to right any wrong. Chen and I have known each other for years. We crossed swords in the martial world and became friends after trading blows. I admire Brother Haoren, both in cultivation and character, from the bottom of my heart. Every quiet night, I ask myself: how can there be such an extraordinary man in this world? What did I, Du Yu, do to deserve the honor of knowing him?"

Chen Ping'an remained silent, as if he hadn't heard.

Yan Qing glanced sideways at Du Yu, whom she considered a hopeless case. She sneered, "Known each other for years in the martial world? At the Narcissus Shrine of the Peony Creek canal master? Or did you get your brains knocked loose there tonight and are now talking nonsense?"

Du Yu laughed heartily, unconcerned.

Yan Qing's eyes turned icy. "There are only a few steps left to Cangyun Lake. Even if the second patriarch of Baodong Fairyland hasn't come down the mountain this time, if he finds out later that you, Du Yu, had the fortune to make such a rogue cultivator friend, time passes slowly on the mountain. The outsider may leave, but the temple remains. Aren't you afraid that disaster comes from the mouth, and illness enters through it?"

I've already walked through the gates of hell twice and come back alive. Why would I fear you? Du Yu, instead of backing down, boldly glanced at Yan Qing's little mouth and then smiled without a word.

Yan Qing smiled back. "Du Yu of Ghost Axe Palace, is it? I'll remember you and your sect."

Only then did Du Yu feel a twinge of unease.

Chen Ping'an turned to Du Yu and smiled. "Brother Du Yu, this bad habit of getting carried away needs fixing. Fairies on the mountain have longer memories than the sixty-year-white-haired female warriors of the martial world."

Du Yu nodded eagerly. "Brother Chen's advice is golden. It's like being gifted a thousand pieces of gold. I'll definitely keep this treasure safe."

He had already gambled with his life.

So he might as well make another grand gamble.

As long as this senior escaped safely from Cyn

g Lake tonight, regardless of whether there was a feud, anyone who wanted to touch him would have to consider the "rogue cultivator friend" he had shared life and death with.

He and his Ghost Axe Palace naturally couldn't move, but as long as the senior didn't die at Cangyun Lake, no cultivator on the mountain would be foolish enough to become bait on a hook or the protruding rafter.

Only now did Du Yu belatedly realize why the senior had said earlier that this trip to Cangyun Lake might let him recoup some of his losses.

Of course, the danger was still immense, and the consequences endless.

But on the path of cultivation, aside from rare beings like Yan Qing and He Lu, who had the luxury of lying down and enjoying blessings? Hadn't he, Du Yu, been through many perilous situations in the martial world?

So that little wench Yan Qing was still shallow compared to this senior, who had lived for hundreds or even thousands of years. Her vision was still far too narrow to raise a dragon.

After that, Yan Qing didn't speak again, just silently followed behind them.

They approached the shore of Cangyun Lake.

The view opened up.

Truly the largest body of water in Yimping.

Tonight, the moon was full.

A thousand li of emerald waves, the water shimmering, moonlight and water blending perfectly.

Since this was the mouth of the Zao Creek, a ferry had been built. But this waterway was reserved by the Zao Creek canal master for receiving noble guests from the capital; she didn't allow any commoners to set foot here.

Standing at the ferry, the breeze brushing his face, Chen Ping'an planted his walking stick and gazed into the distance. "Du Yu, if I threw a punch and accidentally killed a hundred people, including the two canal masters and you, how many would be wronged?"

Du Yu blinked. This question was really hard to answer, and he didn't dare speak rashly.

After all, Cangyun Lake was right in front of them.

Yan Qing's threatening words weren't really empty bluffs. That's how things were on the mountain—generation after generation, for thousands of years.

Seeing that Cangyun Lake seemed completely still, the Zao Creek canal master grew anxious. Standing at the very front of the ferry, she finally began to panic after the rogue cultivator's question.

If there were a regret medicine in the world, she would buy several pounds and swallow it all at once.

Earlier in the Water God Temple, if she had been a little more polite and humored this mongrel rogue cultivator with a few words, things wouldn't have come to this life-or-death situation.

Anyway, back at the temple, this rogue cultivator had come to her territory, first asked Du Yu to come in and announce him, then walked in himself. His words, which had seemed ridiculous and annoying at the time, now seemed... a bit reasonable?

Yan Qing suddenly spoke. "Better not kill indiscriminately here out of anger. It's meaningless."

Chen Ping'an walked forward slowly, reaching the Zao Creek canal master's side. They seemed to stand shoulder to shoulder, admiring the lake view together.

Chen Ping'an held his walking stick with both hands and asked softly, "Those girls thrown into the water as tribute, given to the lake lord as maidservants—was there any who was unwilling, who would rather die than obey, and you threatened their families to force them to put on the wedding gown in tears? Were there parents who died of grief and despair? Were there young men who grew up with them, who wanted revenge, and you killed them with a flick of a finger? Answer me honestly. Was there? If there was even one, then there is."

The Zao Creek canal master trembled all over, clenching her teeth.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Can you change? Can you make amends? Will Cangyun Lake change?"

The Zao Creek canal master nodded vigorously, tears welling up. "If the great master commands, I will definitely reform completely..."

But the bamboo-hatted man just said, "I wasn't asking you. I know the answer."

Just as the Zao Creek canal master's knees were about to give way, preparing to kneel and beg for mercy,

she suddenly turned her head toward Cangyun Lake, her eyes shining with ecstasy.

Immediately, her spine straightened.

Du Yu shrank his neck and swallowed his saliva.

A tall man in a dragon robe, with a face like jade and a crown on his head, appeared on the surface of Cangyun Lake, surrounded by a host of stars: the three river gods, the Peony Creek canal master with a face full of delight, and dozens of dragon palace civil and military attendant spirits, all fierce and imposing. Behind them, further away, were hundreds of crab and shrimp soldiers, arrayed in formation, each at their post.

Among them, a small cluster of extraordinary immortal cultivators stood closest to the middle-aged man.

And an old woman, as tall as the dragon-robed man, wearing a golden crown similar to Yan Qing's, but with a richer glow of treasure, shining brilliantly under the moonlight.

Behind the old woman stood over a dozen cultivators with long, steady breaths and radiant bodies.

These were the Cangyun Lake Lord Yin Hou and the Baodong Fairyland Patriarch Fan Weiran, who had left the dragon palace banquet together to meet the "outsider swordsman" the Peony Creek canal master had spoken of.

One was the mightiest dragon among the dozen countries.

The other was Yimping's most powerful local tyrant.

The two had been enjoying a sumptuous feast of rare delicacies and immortal wine, getting along famously.

Until the disheveled Peony Creek canal master arrived and made some disappointing remarks.

She said that at the Narcissus Shrine, a formidable figure of unknown origin had appeared, casually killed Ghost Axe Palace's Du Yu, and declared he would flatten Cangyun Lake's dragon palace, kidnap the dragon girls and beautiful maids as playthings, and that the Baodong Fairyland masters meant nothing—if they dared to obstruct, he would kill them all too.

The Cangyun Lake Lord Yin Hou, who had governed a thousand li of waterways for a thousand years, wasn't a fool. He knew well this bitch's foul mouth. With a flick of his sleeve, he sent the Peony Creek canal master's golden body shaking, and she fell to the ground howling in agony. Only then did the incompetent Peony Creek canal master dare not exaggerate, but truthfully recounted what had happened at the temple.

The Baodong Fairyland cultivators treated it as entertainment to go with their wine. As for any "swordsman," no one believed it. According to a maid of the Peony Creek canal master, a tiny flying sword had flown out of a wine jug. But the words of a lowly maid—if you believed even ten or twenty percent, you were being generous. The Baodong Fairyland Patriarch Fan Weiran remained silent throughout.

As for that filthy business with the Suijia City God Temple, he had heard of it early on but hadn't paid much attention. Only later, when signs of a major treasure appeared, did he have people investigate. The general process, the cause and effect, were now clear.

Two Baodong Fairyland cultivators on official business had even clashed with some local Yimping immortals who had similar ideas, over the descendants of the recipient of the letter in the capital back then.

Naturally, the other side had suffered losses and slunk away with their tails between their legs.

Fan Weiran frowned. "Qing girl?"

At the ferry, Yan Qing smiled slightly. "Patriarch, rest assured. It's not a problem."

The Lake Lord Yin Hou squinted.

Truly a stunningly beautiful female cultivator, captivating enough to topple kingdoms. If he had the fortune to enjoy her in bed, it would add at least a hundred years to his cultivation.

A pity she was the apple of Baodong Fairyland's eye. This delicate little creature, Yan Qing, was the heart and soul of Fan Weiran, the old crone beside him. Cangyun Lake couldn't touch her.

He'd heard that Yan Qing and He Lu of Huangyue City were a sweet couple? Judging by Yan Qing's posture and aura, it seemed He Lu hadn't yet succeeded.

The Lake Lord Yin Hou swallowed a mouthful of dragon spittle.

At the ferry.

The Zao Creek canal master could no longer care. She leaped toward Cangyun Lake, shouting, "Lake Lord, save me!"

Yin Hou laughed heartily. "Need saving?"

The next moment.

The imposing Lake Lord Yin Hou, like an earthly emperor, flew into a rage.

As that trusted canal master was about to touch the lake's surface with her feet, the bamboo-hatted green-robed man at the ferry reached out and grabbed her. The Zao Creek canal master flew back to the shore, caught by the man's five fingers on her head. With a squeeze, countless pale golden rays burst from the seven orifices and body of this river goddess. In an instant, her water deity golden body was forcibly dragged out of her elegant woman's skin.

The two separated.

The palace-robed woman's body collapsed limply to the ground.

The canal master's wife, forced to reveal her golden body, let out a heart-wrenching howl of pain.

She beat her hands against the arm of the young man in the green robe with the sword on his back.

Then, in full view of the Cangyun Lake Lord and Fan Weiran, he suddenly increased his force. The golden body's head shattered with a bang, and the golden body turned into specks of light, dissipating at the ferry. After all, she was just a river goddess; not even a fingernail-sized fragment of her golden body could coalesce.

The man said calmly, "Indeed, no need to save."

Du Yu looked up at the moon, playing dumb.

See nothing. I see nothing.

This time, Yan Qing's heart shook violently, even more intensely than earlier at the Zao Creek canal master's Water God Temple. It was like a storm churning her inner seas, a fist hammering the mirror of her heart.

Fan Weiran curled her lip in a fleeting expression.

Now, Lake Lord Yin Hou, under the gaze of everyone—his own people and outsiders alike—had lost all face. There was no way he wouldn't go to war.

With the lake lord's rage, as the overlord of Cangyun Lake and a legitimate mountain-and-water deity controlling all waterways, the lake surface near the ferry began to heave. Waves crashed against the shore.

Then the green-robed man, whose single move had shocked the world, said something that must have been a joke: "Want to hear some reasoning?"

He looked at the Cangyun Lake Lord, then at the expressionless Fan Weiran. Finally, he answered himself, "Guess not. I like that."

A deathly silence fell over heaven and earth, and the moon shone silently through the ages.

Du Yu felt a surge of heroic spirit. Damn, if only one day he could have such presence, he'd die happy! Of course, it would be best to be beaten half to death and survive to experience it again!

Damn, so this is how heroes and legends did it? What had his petty fights in the martial world ever amounted to?

Yan Qing's heart was in turmoil, her expression complex.

She stared at that back.

Like a tiny mustard seed, standing alone between the vast sky and earth. Not like a rogue cultivator, nor a registered immortal on the mountain. Rather, like a true wandering knight-errant carrying a sword across mountains and rivers. And... a little lonely?

Annoyed by this inexplicable thought, Yan Qing quickly calmed her mind, silently reciting immortal cultivation formulas.

Then she saw the man take off his bamboo case, setting it gently by his feet. Then he removed his bamboo hat and placed it on the case.

He jabbed his walking stick into the ground of the ferry, embedding it slightly.

Then he began to slowly roll up one sleeve.

Once he was settled, he just stood there, with the sword on his back and the wine gourd hanging.

Finally, the man looked toward Cangyun Lake and said slowly, "No need to be polite. Come at me all at once. Let's see if my fists are harder, or your magical treasures are more numerous. If I flee today, then my name isn't Chen Haoren."

Du Yu's face twisted in anguish.

He should have stopped halfway. The first part was so awesome. As for the last sentence, was it really necessary? Senior master, that really undermines one's own morale.

But soon Du Yu realized he was overthinking.

The senior never let him down.

Because what he said didn't matter at all.

It was what he did.

In a single motion, the green-robed figure, with sword and gourd, stomped half the ferry into collapse before the Cynug Lake Lord could even utter a threatening word, and shot into the distance.

The churning waters near the shore receded.

A river god in green armor wielding a long blade charged forward from the formation.

A single punch.

Armor, skin, golden body—all shattered on the spot.