Chapter 506: Please Take the Sword, All of You
Du Yu felt his scalp go numb. He forced himself to muster the last remnants of his dog-like courage and that vestige of roving martial spirit, but his courage rose like a man climbing a mountain—the closer to the "summit," the weaker it became at his lips. Timidly, he said: "Senior, like this, you... I'm a little afraid of you."
Chen Ping'an held that jade-and-bamboo folding fan gifted by Cui Dongshan. He twisted it between two fingers, and the bamboo fan opened and closed slightly, crisp sounds ringing out again and again. He laughed: "You, Du Yu, saved my life. What are you afraid of? Shouldn't you be thinking about how to claim your reward right now? Why worry that I'll settle accounts with you later? Those messy roving affairs of yours—I already decided not to bother with you back at the Shao Creek Ditch, at the Water Goddess Temple."
Chen Ping'an wore the Dharma robe Golden Ambrosia, which he hadn't worn for many years. That green Spring Grass Dharma robe had been destroyed beyond repair—no matter how many immortal coins you threw at it, you couldn't restore it. So he had stored it away in his Within-an-Arm's-Reach Item, together with those worn-out straw sandals and empty wine jugs. The previous battle had been so perilous—simply put—that he didn't even have time to change into this Golden Ambrosia robe. Even a single moment's thought was impossible. So he could only rely on his mountain-like physical constitution to endure the Cloud-Sea Heavenly Tribulation, which was probably equivalent to soaking in the Small Thunder Pool at Accumulated Sorrow Mountain for several days and nights?
Du Yu gritted his teeth, his face crumpling like he'd lost everything: "Senior, on this trip, you're not planning to slaughter the entire ungrateful Suijia City, are you?"
Chen Ping'an squinted at Du Yu. "Are you stupid, or am I crazy? Then what was the point of me enduring that Heavenly Tribulation?"
Du Yu wiped the sweat from his forehead. "That's good, Senior mustn't be angry with those ignorant commoners. It's not worth it."
He was truly afraid that one wave wouldn't rise before another would fall. If that happened, it wouldn't just be him suffering a miserable death—it would definitely implicate his parents and the entire Ghost Axe Palace. If it was just like back when they parted at the Algae Creek Channel Water Spirit Temple, that old hag Fan Weiran would at most vent her anger on him. But now, it was hard to say. Even possibly Huang Yue City's Ye Han might have set his sights on him.
Some things he hadn't thought much about before—now that he was repeatedly brushing against death's door, skipping and hopping on the road to the Yellow Springs—he thought about them again and again.
Especially staying in this ghost mansion these past few days, helping the senior clean the rooms and courtyards, carrying buckets and holding rags, clumsily doing servant's work he'd never done since leaving his mother's womb. It felt like a different world.
Chen Ping'an tucked the folding fan into his waist and looked over the wall. "Doing good or doing evil—both are one's own business. What's there to be disappointed about?"
Du Yu nodded vigorously. "A gentleman bestows kindness without seeking repayment—truly the bearing of a senior!"
Chen Ping'an laughed. "Save it. Say less of this flattery in the future. Your cultivation level, Du Yu, is too low. It's exhausting for you to say it, and annoying for me to hear it. I've tolerated it for a long time."
Du Yu's smile turned awkward.
Chen Ping'an took the Nurtured Sword Gourd from the bamboo chair and placed it down. He stepped on the Sword Immortal sword lying on the ground, lightly kicked it up, and caught it in his hand. "You stay here. I'm going out for a bit."
Du Yu naturally didn't dare question the senior's decision. He asked cautiously: "Senior, when will you return to the mansion?"
Chen Ping'an smiled. "I'll go to the Commander's Office just a few steps away, then visit Cangyun Lake or Black Glaze Mountain. Shouldn't take too much time."
Du Yu breathed a sigh of relief.
Chen Ping'an walked out of the ghost mansion.
Du Yu faced that vermillion wine gourd, pressed his palms together, and bowed, praying: "May the great wine gourd lord kindly grant more protection to this humble one."
When the ghost mansion's main door opened, that white-robed banished immortal truly revealed himself.
The Suijia City commoners, who had been noisily clamoring, scattered like a flock of birds—men, women, old, and young—over a hundred of them fleeing in all directions. Among the crowd were mostly servants and retainers from wealthy families who considered themselves wronged and had suffered great losses, sent by their masters to demand money. There were also local ruffians who had come from all corners of Suijia City to watch the excitement, and quite a few adventurous youths who wanted to see what a sword immortal looked like.
Although everyone said this out-of-town sword immortal was extremely good-natured, extremely rich, and had been severely wounded, forced to stay in Suijia City to recuperate for a long time—the fact that he'd hidden in the ghost mansion for so long without showing his face had already proven this point. Still, who knew if he'd leave the mansion and grab someone in the street? At worst, he was some kind of sword immortal. A starved camel is bigger than a horse—better to be careful.
Just then, a group of sturdy young men came rushing over pushing a dung cart, laughing loudly. They had been feeling proud of their bold deed, enjoying the thumbs-ups and cheers from people nearby, and pushed the cart with even more vigor. They were only twenty or thirty paces from that eerie, cursed mansion that no one dared to inhabit. Then the white-robed sword immortal happened to open the door and walk out, staring straight at them.
Three young men, who spent their days idling around Suijia City, stood frozen, their legs unable to move.
Not only that, but a woman emerged belatedly from a street corner, walking against the flow. She was dressed in plain white mourning clothes, a rather attractive woman, holding a swaddled infant in her arms. It was the cold end of spring, the weather biting to the bone. The child, whether sound asleep or frozen, wasn't crying. Her face was full of grief, her steps growing faster and faster. She even passed the dung cart and the sturdy men, fell to her knees with a thud on the street, raised her head to the white-robed young man, and choked out between sobs: "Immortal lord! My husband was crushed to death by a collapsing house. I'm just a woman—how am I supposed to live? I beg the immortal lord to show mercy and save my child and me!"
The woman wailed as if her heart were breaking, as if she might faint from grief at any moment.
The commoners hiding far away in the alleys began pointing and whispering. Someone said quietly to a neighbor that she seemed to be the woman from Sprout Lane, who had indeed married last spring.
Poor thing.
Chen Ping'an crouched down. "In such cold weather, with such a small child—you, as a mother, can bear to do this? Shouldn't you have entrusted him to a familiar neighbor instead of running to me alone to cry and complain? Well, yes—since you can't go on living anyway, what does it matter?"
The woman was stunned. It seemed she had never imagined the young sword immortal would speak like this. For a moment, she was dazed.
Then the young man smiled. "The way you hold this child is a bit clumsy. Is this your first?"
The woman suddenly burst into anguished howls, saying nothing.
Chen Ping'an tucked his hands into his sleeves and said slowly: "Let me guess—next, if I ignore you and brush past you, you'll raise the child high and say, 'If you won't save me, I won't live either. Since I can't survive anyway, rather than let this poor child suffer for life, I'll dash him on the street and let him be reborn into a better fate in his next life. In this life, his parents failed him, facing a heartless immortal.' Then you'll dash your own head against a wall, hoping for a family reunion underground? Or am I saying more than what others taught you?"
The woman just wailed in utter despair, so heart-wrenching that anyone who heard would weep and anyone who saw would grieve.
Chen Ping'an glanced at the market man who had earlier identified the woman, and smiled faintly. The man's expression changed, and he quickly slipped away, disappearing into a small alley.
The man who fled in haste, the woman crying on the ground, the hidden assassin lying in wait in the dung cart...
They were probably all petty schemes that the instigator behind them didn't even think would succeed—just meant to disgust him?
Chen Ping'an found it somewhat interesting.
Cangyun Lake's Yin Hou definitely didn't have the guts for this right now. Bao Grotto Paradise's Fan Weiran didn't have such twists in her mind. That Huang Yue City's Ye Han, whom he had never met? Or that young man named He Lu, acting through some Suijia City official or clerk? Anyway, these three—a cultivator, a market woman, and a martial artist—might not even know who sent them to their deaths. Each had their own reasons and arrangements for coming here to die.
What to do?
Because Chen Ping'an felt genuinely disgusted.
The woman's vision blurred.
The young white-robed sword immortal had vanished.
The woman gritted her teeth, stood up, and really did raise the swaddled child high, ready to dash it to the ground. Before doing so, she turned her head toward the alley and cried out with all her might: "This sword immortal has no heart! He killed my husband and feels not a shred of guilt! Today, my child and I will die together. Even as ghosts, the three of us will never forgive him!"
She hurled the child violently toward the street, hoping it wouldn't die on the first impact—that would be a real problem. So she put all her strength into it.
Her lifelong wealth and glory depended on this one throw.
Anyway, the child wasn't hers—who knew where that stranger had found it. As for that man who had died not long ago, disappearing for no reason—he was indeed the man she had been blind to marry. A good-for-nothing who couldn't control his pants, let alone his hands, addicted to gambling and women, squandering what little family property they had, leaving her with not a single good day since she married him. Better dead early. After dashing the child, she would only need to slam her head against the wall hard enough to make it bleed and scare people, then pretend to faint. She didn't have to really die. With the bag of gold and silver she had already collected, plus another after the deed was done, she could easily find another man to marry later and become a wealthy lady draped in gold and silk. How hard could that be?
After throwing the child, the woman felt mentally and physically drained and collapsed to the ground.
Then her eyes snapped wide open.
The white-robed immortal had somehow crouched in front of her again, one hand catching the swaddled child.
Chen Ping'an stood up, holding the child. He carefully used his finger to lift a corner of the swaddling cloth, gently touched the infant's little hand. Fortunately, the child was just a bit stiff from cold. The other party probably thought there was no need to tamper with a child destined to die. Sure enough, those cultivators only had this much brain. It wasn't easy to be a good person, but was it also hard to be a thoroughly rotten villain?
Chen Ping'an twitched the corner of his mouth, but when he looked at the child in his arms, his gaze naturally softened. With practiced movements, he wrapped the swaddling cloth a bit more tightly around the child and carefully emitted warmth from his palm to warm the bundle, helping ward off the bone-chilling spring cold.
No child in this world was born destined to suffer and endure disasters.
Chen Ping'an tapped his toes, his figure blurring backward like a white rainbow slanting across the sky, returning to the ghost mansion's courtyard.
Du Yu, probably feeling uneasy, didn't dare sit in the chair where the Nurtured Sword Gourd was placed. Instead, he had moved a small stool next to the bamboo chair and sat there obediently, not moving. Of course, he hadn't forgotten to put on his Divine Man Dew-Collecting Armor.
When Du Yu saw the senior return with... a swaddled child in his arms, he was dumbfounded. What was the senior doing? Earlier, he said he had good luck walking the night road, picking up his Divine Man Dew-Collecting Armor and the refined demon core—Du Yu could pretend to believe that with a clear conscience. But picking up a child the moment he stepped out the door? Du Yu was truly stunned.
Chen Ping'an carefully handed the child to Du Yu. Du Yu felt as if struck by lightning and reached out stiffly.
Chen Ping'an frowned. "Take off the Dew-Collecting Armor!"
Du Yu was startled and hastily withdrew the armor, storing it together with the refined demon core he had been clutching in his sleeve.
He stiffly took the swaddled child, feeling completely awkward. Seeing the senior's look of disgust, Du Yu felt like crying. Senior, I'm young, my roving experience is shallow—I really can't match your all-knowing, all-understanding expertise.
Chen Ping'an instructed: "I'll be back soon. The child is delicate and has caught some chill. Pay attention to his breathing. When you use spiritual power to warm his body, be absolutely careful about the dosage. If there's any problem, leave the mansion immediately, take the Nurtured Sword Gourd, and go find an experienced medicine shop physician."
Du Yu nodded like a pecking chick.
Chen Ping'an thought a moment, twisted his wrist, and produced the last remaining walnut in his palm. "When thrown, its power is equivalent to a full-strength strike from an Earth Immortal cultivator. No opening incantation needed—any cultivator can use it. Even if someone in the lower five realms has a weak constitution, they'll just spit a few mouthfuls of blood and exhaust their spiritual reserves. No major aftereffects. Since you're at the peak of the Cavern Dwelling realm and a military cultivator, don't hesitate to use it if something comes up."
Du Yu was still holding the child, so he had to lean sideways, bend over, and stretch out his hand to grab the priceless immortal treasure.
Du Yu's heart steadied greatly.
It was rare for the senior to be so talkative.
But for some reason, at this moment, the senior seemed a bit familiar again.
Chen Ping'an took a deep breath, no longer holding the Sword Immortal sword in hand but slinging it across his back again. "You people are getting addicted to this, aren't you?"
Du Yu sighed inwardly. The familiar feeling was gone again.
He silently told himself: This is the senior's well-intentioned way of tempering your Dao-heart, Du Yu.
The senior had already disappeared.
No ripples of spiritual energy, not even a wisp of breeze.
As if merged with heaven and earth.
Du Yu held the child, gently rocking, not daring to move too much, afraid of waking it. Damn it, he had never been this gentle with any female roving hero in his life. Du Yu looked down and sighed: "Little one, your fortune is greater than the heavens."
In a quiet, deserted narrow alley.
A man leaned against the wall and swallowed his saliva. It seemed he hadn't been followed?
Making that Small Summer Coin was really troublesome.
The registered immortal who had contacted him—although he didn't look like someone who could produce a Small Summer Coin—the immortal coin couldn't be faked. Not taking it meant death, and taking it and not doing the job also meant death. So what choice did he have? He found a clerk in Suijia City, used similar methods, gave him a bag of silver. Not taking it also meant death. The clerk wasn't stupid—he found him that pair of scum from Sprout Lane, and that led to today's events.
This mountain-and-forest rogue cultivator took out that Small Summer Coin, grinned, and murmured to himself: "Registered immortals really don't treat money like money. I hope there's a dozen more deals like this."
A voice smiled beside his ear: "You're not bad either—not treating human lives as lives."
The man stiffly turned his head and saw that white-robed banished immortal, shaking a folding fan, standing just a few paces away. He hadn't sensed a thing.
The man said in a trembling voice: "Great Sword Immortal, nothing impressive, nothing impressive. I was forced by circumstances, had no choice. That registered immortal from Dreambeam Peak who told me to do this—he just thought doing such things would dirty his hands. He cares even less about mortal lives than I, a wild cultivator, do."
The man forced a smile: "You don't know, Great Sword Immortal, that woman from Sprout Lane is naturally vicious, and her husband was a despicable wretch worth even less. These market scum—it's just a pity they have no talent and can only wallow in the mud. If they had become cultivators, they'd be absolutely peerless at doing evil."
The white-robed sword immortal smiled slightly: "I don't ask about intentions, only observe actions. Otherwise, how many people in this world would be left alive? What do you think?"
The man nodded vigorously: "Right, right, right. The Sword Immortal is absolutely right."
Then he heard the out-of-town sword immortal, the one who had survived a Heavenly Tribulation, ask with a slightly surprised tone: "A mere registered immortal from Dreambeam Peak thinks killing a few market commoners would dirty his hands. Then what about me, a sword immortal—do you think killing you would dirty my hands? If not, why didn't I kill that woman begging for money on the street, those market ruffians pushing the dung cart for fun, or that assassin hiding in the dung cart eating shit?"
The man held up the Small Summer Coin with both hands, bowed deeply, raised it high, and said fawningly: "Since the Sword Immortal thinks it would dirty his hands, please have a merciful heart and spare this insignificant one. Don't dirty the Sword Immortal's divine weapon. I'm nothing but a maggot, a stinking worm—unworthy of the Sword Immortal drawing his sword."
"Immortal techniques come in ten thousand varieties on the mountains—do I need to draw my sword?"
Hearing this, the man broke out in a cold sweat and didn't dare say another word.
"Now you feel afraid, thinking I'm a villain just like you?"
The banished immortal tapped his head with the folded fan, looking lazy and casual, chuckling softly: "Before the wicked, you say nothing. Behind the good, you stab their backs. Silent gourds you are, and animated chatterboxes too. Strange, wonderful indeed."
The man didn't want to flee—he simply couldn't control his limbs anymore.
The man said: "Come on, I'll allow you to shout one sentence: 'The sword immortal is killing people!' If you can make the whole city hear it, I might spare you."
The man shook his head vigorously, forced himself, and said with a sobbing tone: "I wouldn't dare. This humble one would never dare to insult the Sword Immortal!"
The man said "Oh," then added: "Then you're in for it." Without waiting for the rogue cultivator to speak, he lightly tapped the rogue cultivator's head with the folding fan, then casually waved his sleeve, gathering the three souls and seven spirits in his palm, slowly wearing them away with pure Yang energy.
If all good people can only console themselves with "evil will be recompensed by evil," then this world isn't truly good.
As for that Small Summer Coin, it fell beside the corpse and eventually rolled into a crack.
A white-robed figure slowly walked out of the alley.
Moments later, a golden sword light shot up from the ground, and the white-robed immortal rode his sword away from Suijia City, heading straight for Cangyun Lake.
From the ghost mansion in the city, a faint green flying sword followed after him.
In the National Preceptor's residence in the capital of Dream Beam Country.
Two grand cultivators sat facing each other across a small emerald lake.
One was an old scholar in blue robes with white hair, like a reclusive scholar without official rank. The other was a young man in his early twenties. On the old scholar's lap lay a dying little monkey. Around the young man's waist was a small green snake that seemed to be in deep sleep, already sprouting a horn, its head and tail connected like a green belt.
Behind the old scholar in Confucian robes stood a pale-faced fox-spirit woman of average looks but bewitching eyes. Even standing behind her master, separated from the young man by a small lake, she was still somewhat trembling. That "young man's" reputation was too terrifying. His name was Xia Zhen. He had once been a rogue cultivator who occupied a vast mountain territory, never taking direct disciples but only keeping some servants and children of acceptable aptitude. Later, he transferred that spiritually rich blessed land to others, moving only a single immortal mansion with great divine abilities, disappearing from the entire southeastern map of Northern Juzhou without a trace.
It was this great immortal who had made that secret pact with her master.
But the fox-spirit only knew that her master, at a great cost, had drawn a forbidden zone isolating spiritual energy across the borders of a dozen countries. Using this heaven-spanning technique that consumed vast amounts of his natal essence, he had suppressed a mobile merit-based treasure and finally claimed it. Xia Zhen had formed an alliance with her master, giving up his previous mountain to two nearby major sects in exchange for being able to treat these dozen or so countries—traditionally thin in spiritual energy—as his personal preserve, like this... small lake before him now.
Each side took what they needed, each had their long-term plans.
But the fox-spirit never expected that her master, who should have been cultivating in seclusion outside the borders of those countries, would transform into the native-born National Preceptor of Dream Beam Country!
According to earlier intelligence from Silver Screen Country about the situation in Dream Beam Country, she had naturally heard of it. Her master supposedly started as a "child prodigy" from a minor commandery of humble origin, passed the imperial exams with top honors, became the Number One Scholar, bringing glory to his family. Entering officialdom, he seemed blessed by heaven—not only brilliant in poetry and prose but also extremely talented in governance. He eventually became the youngest prime minister in Dream Beam Country's history. Before forty, he had already reached the pinnacle of officialdom. Then suddenly he resigned and retired, rumored to have encountered an immortal who taught him Daoist techniques, so he gave up his seal and left. That year, throughout the court and countryside, countless "umbrellas of the people" were made for him in sincere gratitude.
After retiring to the mountains, he devoted himself to alchemy and cultivation. In just ten years, he had achieved immortal techniques and divine powers. At the time, the fox-spirit thought it was a joke, some kind of trickery. Dream Beam Country's capital and local regions showed continuous auspicious signs. The new emperor, who had just ascended the throne, personally went to the immortal mountain to welcome back this former prime minister, appointing him as National Preceptor of the country. When he was an official, the country prospered and the people were safe. After becoming an immortal, the weather was favorable and harvests were good. This Dream Beam Country, under his single-handed efforts, had become a paradise where no one picked up lost items on the road. The court gathered civil and military talents, local officials and people were harmonious. Two successive emperors, aided by this man, worked diligently to govern well, never starting border conflicts rashly.
During the pursuit by those cultivators in Suijia City, this fox-spirit had lost two tails, damaging her Dao foundation. But her master, after appearing, had only brought her and a colleague to this National Preceptor's residence in Dream Beam Country's capital. He hadn't yet granted any rewards or punishments. This made the fox-spirit somewhat self-pitying. Having lost the honorable status of Empress Dowager of Silver Screen Country and returned to being a mere maidservant by her master's side, she found it somewhat hard to adjust.
Xia Zhen smiled slightly: "Congratulations, Daoist friend, on achieving your wish. Founding a sect is just around the corner."
The old scholar in Confucian robes said calmly: "I will naturally dismantle the remaining restrictions of that golden forbidden zone. The spiritual energy outside will slowly pour in. Within a hundred years, there will be a great harvest of cultivation seedlings. As for He Lu, Yan Qing, and others—they are still young now, and they are at the front of the line for the moon near the water. Golden Core is attainable. If within your sect, seven or eight Golden Core Earth Immortals can appear simultaneously, that will be a solid foundation for founding a sect. Congratulations to you as well."
Xia Zhen's eyes were sincere as he sighed with emotion: "Compared to your methods and schemes, I am ashamed. You actually managed to obtain this merit treasure, and it's even a natal sword pellet. To be honest, at the time I thought you had at least a sixty percent chance of failure."
Xia Zhen glanced at the little monkey whose abdomen was glowing brilliantly, full of admiration. This old fellow, who was already about to fall from the Golden Core realm, had managed to go into hiding, not only escaping the covetous killing intent of various powers but also brazenly hiding right under his nose. Finally, with a body of merit accumulated by benefiting a country, he rightfully claimed a merit treasure. Such calculation was worthy of a Nascent Soul identity.
The old man laughed: "Daoist friend, you gave up a blessed land for this map of a dozen countries that no one wanted—that's also a bold move, great courage. If managed well, you can recoup your investment in a hundred years, then profit for a thousand."
One sought treasure, one sought talent.
Two Nascent Soul cultivators joined forces to create this grand situation.
The final result—everyone was happy.
But both knew in their hearts that if one of them, no matter who, could break through to the Upper Five Realms first, the situation afterward would be unpredictable.
When one could truly found a sect, anyone would find their territory too small.
When the old man withdrew that forbidden zone and spiritual energy poured back into the dozen countries, how could Xia Zhen just watch those vast currents of spiritual energy flow freely, wasted on a bunch of ants that had been scrapping like chickens and dogs for years?
As for Fan Weiran, Ye Han, and their large group of incompetents failing to snatch that strange treasure from the fox-spirit and the old man—Xia Zhen wasn't really that angry. Those spiritual energies were the true foundation of his Dao. As for the rest, he shouldn't be greedy. The original Nascent Soul pact wasn't a joke. Besides, in this world, who could have all the advantages? Since the situation was favorable and stable, let him refine his merit treasure and risk transforming into a sword cultivator. Let Xia Zhen devour his spiritual energy, also hoping to break through bottlenecks and quickly ascend to the Upper Five Realms. Cleverness was necessary, but you couldn't live by cleverness alone your whole life. An Earth Immortal should have an Earth Immortal's vision and state of mind.
Xia Zhen seemed to remember something. "After the Heavenly Tribulation, I made a trip to Suijia City and discovered something very unexpected."
The old scholar in Confucian robes smiled. "Please, go ahead, Daoist friend."
Xia Zhen rested his hands on that green "belt" and smiled. "If I'm not mistaken, the sword that out-of-town sword cultivator carries on his back is a half-immortal weapon! I'm decent at fighting for my life, but when it comes to refining, I'm hopelessly mediocre. You, however, are skilled in refining. How about we sign another pact and become allies once more?"
The old man's eyes flashed with brilliance, but it vanished in an instant.
If it were just a Dharma treasure, he would have no interest. Right now, refining that innate sword pellet saturated with merit was the foundation for his future Upper Five Realm. Every day wasted pained him.
But a half-immortal weapon?
Soon, the old man composed himself.
Such a rare item—was Xia Zhen his father or his son, to kindly inform him?
So this old Nascent Soul, temporarily playing the role of Dream Beam Country's National Preceptor, waved his hand and laughed heartily: "Just take it, Daoist friend. This opportunity is yours. As for me, forget it. Before I successfully refine this item, I have many taboos. You're well aware of these big troubles. With your realm, killing a wounded young sword cultivator shouldn't be hard. I'll wish you success in advance—may you obtain a half-immortal weapon!"
Xia Zhen smiled and nodded. The old man's caution wasn't surprising. Both were Nascent Soul rogue cultivators—if they took the bait easily, they'd never have lived to today.
We who kill and steal without blinking, walking the night road too often, still need to fear ghosts now and then.
This saying, which Xia Zhen had engraved in his heart since his youth, was still fresh after countless years. It was spoken by that fifth-realm rogue cultivator master who had died by his own hand—the greatest wealth he left for Xia Zhen in this life. And at that time, Xia Zhen was only at the second realm. How had he managed to kill his master, seize the treasure, and take the money? Because the master and disciple had unfortunately hit an iron wall.
So in the long years after, whenever Xia Zhen found himself feeling complacent, he would dig out this old saying and silently recite it a few times.
Xia Zhen stood and laughed: "No need to see me out, Daoist friend."
The old scholar in Confucian robes grabbed the little monkey and still rose to see him off: "Rest assured, Daoist friend, I will leave Dream Beam Country soon."
Xia Zhen transformed into a rainbow and flew far away, instantly shrinking to the size of a mustard seed, breaking through a low-hanging sea of clouds, wandering freely.
This National Preceptor of Dream Beam Country shook the little monkey in his hand and looked up, laughing: "He managed to hold back from making a move. That Xia Zhen must be struggling."
The fox-spirit and a gaunt old man in the distance stood respectfully, hands at their sides.
The fox-spirit said softly: "Master, a half-immortal weapon—are you really just going to ignore it? Even if Xia Zhen gaining it isn't significant, Master..."
The old scholar in Confucian robes used the divine ability of Sleeve Universe to imprison the entire monkey in a small world.
He turned his head and said: "Here in Dream Beam Country, this tiny place, my information is blocked, far inferior to Xia Zhen's news. If you covet that half-immortal weapon, why don't you go fetch it for me?"
The fox-spirit dared not speak, barely daring to breathe.
Her identity had been exposed by Ye Han of Huang Yue City. She was no longer the femme fatale of Silver Screen Country. If she returned to Suijia City and her tracks were revealed, she would be like a rat crossing the street.
The old scholar in Confucian robes sneered: "A sword cultivator willing to endure a Heavenly Tribulation, a young man bold enough to reveal a half-immortal weapon—are they soft persimmons? If so, why wouldn't Xia Zhen just take them himself? Instead, he kindly reveals this heavenly secret to me? Moreover, once a half-immortal weapon acknowledges its master—especially the tragic scene when its owner dies and it goes out of control—you people truly are frogs at the bottom of a well, knowing nothing of the stakes."
In the sea of clouds, Xia Zhen no longer transformed into a rainbow or rode the wind. He walked slowly with his hands behind his back.
Xia Zhen's expression was helpless as he muttered to himself: "Since it's from the Sackcloth Mourning Sect, better not provoke it, right?"
Xia Zhen looked back once at Dream Beam Country's capital. Having obtained that innate sword pellet, and with a half-immortal weapon sword appearing just at the right time—such destined fortune—and you still held back?
With such a tiny courage, how did you become a rogue cultivator? Spending decades as a mortal scholar in Dream Beam Country has really cultivated your nature well.
Xia Zhen extended one hand and said a few names, exactly a handful.
Any more, and it would interfere with his Dao.
Fan Weiran—easy to command. Ye Han—relatively clever. He Lu—good aptitude. Yan Qing—not bad either. That Cui girl—a bit strange.
Xia Zhen raised the other hand and reported five more names, all people of temporarily low age and low cultivation.
Xia Zhen strolled leisurely on the cloud sea, looking at his two palms, then lightly clenched his fists. "Ten other people's Golden Cores—are they worth one of my Jade Pure realms? Might as well kill them all?"
But he shook his head soon. "Forget it. No rush. I'll keep five Golden Core spots. Whoever seems likely to reach Nascent Soul, I'll kill them. Then there will be room."
Xia Zhen pressed his hands on the green belt. "This fellow is still formidable. I wonder why he insisted in our pact that I suppress the martial fortunes of those dozen countries, forbidding any cultivator from reaching the Golden Body realm. So that the countries would have fewer wars, allowing him, this hidden prime minister and National Preceptor of Dream Beam, to avoid killing, accumulate merit peacefully."
Xia Zhen stretched lazily.
He thought of the Heavenly Tribulation scene for no reason.
This Nascent Soul rogue cultivator's mood became heavy.
Could it be one of the ten whose status was similar to Liu Jinglong and Yang Ningxing? But it didn't seem like it. Upon careful consideration, none matched.
Xia Zhen stopped, looked around, and smiled: "I wonder which Daoist friend is here. Why not show yourself?"
At the edge of his vision, at the other end of the cloud sea, someone stood motionless. But the cloud sea beneath his feet suddenly surged upward like waves, then rushed toward Xia Zhen.
Xia Zhen didn't move a muscle. He lightly patted the green snake around his waist, which had already taken on signs of transforming into a flood dragon, and smiled inwardly: "No need to pay attention. Close-quarters combat suits me."
This uninvited guest seemed travel-worn, his expression exhausted. When the surging cloud sea crashed onto the shore like a wave, he landed gently and walked forward slowly, like an old friend reuniting after long separation, complaining endlessly: "You people really make me restless. You made me run back from the sea again. Do you think I'm a cross-continental ferry? That's not all—I almost got chopped to death by that furious Little Quan'er. Lucky enough, my connection with that brother of mine is still strong, or I wouldn't have sensed the situation here. But I came too late—too late. That brother of mine shouldn't have retaliated against that woman who was so devoted to him. Ah, forget it. If he weren't like this, he wouldn't be the brother I truly admire. And that woman's devotion... it's really too much to bear. A bit too domineering. I can't blame my brother."
He continued muttering endlessly: "This Northern Juzhou Fengshui—are we enemies or what? Can't you just let me go home and coast through life? Back in the day, I was friendly with everyone here, on the mountains and in the markets—my reputation was solid. I was a well-behaved son-in-law of Northern Juzhou! I don't deserve to be toyed with like this..."
Babbling nonsense without restraint.
Xia Zhen was very confused but not too concerned.
A cultivator who had attained the Dao—who would reveal clues through words? And with such fluent Northern Juzhou speech, you tell me you're an out-of-town traveler from another continent?
The person before him was a stranger, genuine and true—no illusion. Unless it was a peak Daoist at the Immortal realm. Even at the Jade Pure realm, illusions wouldn't work on him.
The cloud sea beneath this person's feet scattered.
Not a low realm, but fond of showing off such petty tricks.
Xia Zhen not only didn't retreat but actually stepped forward a few paces and asked with a smile: "May I ask the Daoist friend's name?"
The man hesitated, took two steps back, and answered: "My small name is Zhou Fei. My full name... I'd better not say it. I'm afraid there might be women in your family or sect."
What utter nonsense.
Xia Zhen remained composed. "May I ask why the Daoist friend blocks my path?"
The man calling himself Zhou Fei indeed had a good appearance—dashing and elegant on the sea of clouds.
He looked distressed and said: "I'm begging you, alright? Can you all just calm down a bit? Let me return to Bao Vase Continent in peace! Huh?!"
Xia Zhen sighed, his face full of apology: "If the Daoist friend continues speaking in riddles and rambling nonsense, I'm afraid I won't be able to keep you company."
The one who had clearly used an alias, Zhou Fei, was stunned. "I was so blunt, and you still didn't understand? Dear mother! I'm not saying this to you all—if it weren't for your Nascent Soul realm, would you be worthy of playing mind games with my brother?"
Xia Zhen finally understood clearly.
So this was someone coming to settle the score for that young sword immortal?
Xia Zhen looked around and clicked his tongue. "Just you alone, right? Have you heard the saying: Within ten paces, I, Xia Zhen, can kill a Nascent Soul?"
Then the man closed his feet together, hopped directly into five paces range, as if asking for death: "Alright, let me, Jiang Shangzhen, enlighten you."
Xia Zhen almost collapsed on the spot.
Northern Juzhou had always been arrogant, especially sword cultivators, who looked down on everyone. Except for the Central Earth Divine Continent, everyone else was trash—their realms were trash, their treasures were trash, their backgrounds were trash—all worthless.
But there were a few outsiders from other continents that Northern Juzhou truly "couldn't forget," and they even cared about what happened after they returned to their home continents.
For example... that one from the central and northern parts—each had a great sword immortal who swore to personally kill him... from Tongye Continent, Jiang Shangzhen!
Inside the Cangyun Lake Dragon Palace.
Another grand gathering was underway.
Lake Lord Yin Hou didn't sit on the steps below the dragon throne this time but stood between the two sides, saying: "Just now, a flying sword message arrived—that man is riding his sword toward my Cangyun Lake."
Fan Weiran sneered coldly. Ye Han sat unmoving like a mountain. The pair of golden boy and jade girl were somewhat shocked. The rest of both sides were greatly shaken, a clamor rising.
Lake Lord Yin Hou's expression was unpleasant. "Ye Han, Lord Ye of the great city, who was it earlier who said that this out-of-town sword immortal was severely wounded, that we could slowly grind him down with a blunt knife? We've only just begun our deployment, and he's already attacking my Cangyun Lake lair! Now what do you propose? Should we all scatter and be picked off one by one, or stay here, first rub our knees, so we can kneel conveniently later?"
He Lu remained composed, holding a bamboo flute, and stood up. "One formation was set outside Suijia City, another here at Cangyun Lake. Plus, the Dragon Palace itself has mountain-and-river formation protection. I think we can open the gates wide and let him enter the formation. If our three forces join hands—with our city lord, with Patriarch Fan, plus two formations and over a hundred cultivators in this hall—that should be equivalent to the strength of an Immortal, right? If he didn't come and only cowered in Suijia City, we would have wasted bait for nothing and hurt our harmony. Now that he's coming, isn't that better?"
Lake Lord Yin Hou erupted in anger: "Little Immortal Master He, you speak lightly! This Cangyun Lake is my thousand years of accumulated property! At worst, you'll lose some immortal coins from a few talisman formations. When the battle turns heaven and earth dark, corpses strewn everywhere, the Dragon Palace collapses—even if we barely win and kill the fiend, if we still split the spoils as previously agreed, I'll have thrown in a Dragon Palace for nothing. Wouldn't I cry myself to death?"
He Lu smiled brilliantly. "Cangyun Lake gets 20%, Bao Grotto Paradise gets 40%, our Huang Yue City gets 40%—that was the previous split. Now, Huang Yue City can give up 10% to compensate Lake Lord. Additionally, same rule as before: if anyone has their eye on a specific treasure and is determined to have it, the three sides will together calculate a fair price that everyone accepts, convert it into Snowflake Coins or Small Summer Coins, plus a premium, as thanks for the other sides' willingness to yield."
Here, He Lu glanced at the opposite side, his gaze briefly passing over the woman he had long yearned for, then said to the old crone with a smile: "Patriarch Fan?"
The old crone, who had seemed drowsy, smiled. "Agreed. Our Bao Grotto Paradise is also willing to take 10% less to thank Cangyun Lake Dragon Palace."
Lake Lord Yin Hou looked at Ye Han, who nodded slightly.
Only then was Lake Lord satisfied.
He Lu said no more.
The entire Cangyun Lake Dragon Palace, from top to bottom, looked at this handsome, jade-like young man with admiration.
If not for the fact that He Lu wasn't Ye Han's offspring, and Huang Yue City's city lord position had never been passed to outsiders or other surnames, with Ye Han's two worthless sons, how could they compete with He Lu?
By the side door of the main hall hung a dazzling pearl curtain. A beautiful woman gently lifted a corner of the curtain, gazing at the handsome young man talking and laughing with affectionate eyes.
Such an extraordinary young man existed in this world.
Compared to those barely passable poor scholars or noble sons in the past, they all together couldn't match this He Lu of Huang Yue City.
Truly a handsome youth who had stepped out of unofficial histories and literary notes, a banished immortal standing vividly before her eyes.
At the ghost mansion in Suijia City.
Du Yu held the child still sleeping in swaddling clothes, feeling helpless.
Then Du Yu turned his head suddenly and saw a handsome, slender man vault over the wall. After landing, he made a pose of gathering energy into his dantian.
Du Yu shot to his feet, on high alert. He glanced at the vermillion wine gourd on the chair, but no flying sword shot out.
Du Yu was somewhat despairing.
He clenched the walnut the senior had given him before leaving.
The man raised his hands and smiled: "Don't be nervous, don't be nervous. My name is Zhou Fei. I'm a sworn brother of Chen... Good Person—he's using that name now, right? Anyway, we're kindred spirits. When I found out there was such a big commotion here, even though my cultivation isn't high, brothers in need can't be ignored. So I hurried over to see if there's anything I can help with. Lucky for me, this place was easy to find. Where is my brother, and who are you?"
Du Yu didn't believe a word.
The man pointed at the wine gourd on the chair. "There are two flying swords inside. One left, and one stayed to protect you. If it didn't recognize me, wouldn't it have shown itself to protect you?"
Du Yu was only slightly convinced, one part out of ten.
The man glanced at Du Yu's hand. "Alright, that walnut is indeed quite invincible—equivalent to an Earth Immortal's strike, right? You can smash enemies with it, but don't scare your own brother. My constitution is thinner than my face. Don't accidentally kill me. What's your name? With your handsome appearance and dragon-like gait, you're clearly a supreme expert. No wonder my brother trusts you to guard the house... Eh? What's this? A few days apart, and my brother already has a child?! Impressive! Comparing people really makes you mad."
Du Yu felt his face stiffen. Damn, listening to this man's offbeat talk, there was a certain charm to it. He really did seem like a friend of the senior's from the road?
The man trotted over to Du Yu. Du Yu went through a storm of inner conflict, but aside from clutching the walnut in his hand, he made no extra moves.
The man was sensible. He picked up Du Yu's stool and placed it a bit further away, sitting down with a plop.
Du Yu sat cautiously on the bamboo chair and said gravely: "I am Du Yu, a cultivator of Ghost Axe Palace. The senior instructed me to look after this child temporarily."
The man called Zhou Fei immediately gave a thumbs-up, his face full of admiration: "Ghost Axe Palace! Illustrious reputation! I've admired it for a long time!"
Du Yu asked: "Are you really a friend of the senior?"
Zhou Fei laughed: "Absolutely genuine, no counterfeit."
Du Yu didn't dare fully believe.
Zhou Fei laughed: "My brother—he likes to... reason things out, follow rules, right? And at first, you didn't take these reasons and rules seriously, found them inexplicable, right?"
Du Yu felt like a huge weight had fallen from him, his whole body collapsing.
Du Yu asked doubtfully: "Have you really heard of our Ghost Axe Palace?"
Zhou Fei nodded: "Didn't you just introduce yourself? With an expert like you sitting here, it's only natural that I hurriedly muster some admiration, isn't it?"
Du Yu said bitterly: "Since you're a friend of the senior, you must also be a transcendent master. Please don't mock me, Du Yu. What kind of expert am I?"
But the man said: "You're not an expert? Do you know what your so-called senior, my good brother, does? He almost never trusts anyone! Actually, you can probably remove the word 'anyone'—he doesn't even trust himself. So Du Yu, I'm really curious—what did you do, what did you say, to make him view you differently?"
Du Yu shook his head. "I only did a few small things. But the senior sees ten thousand li ahead—he probably thought of good points that I myself haven't noticed."
The man was silent for a long moment, then finally spat out: "Damn it, kid, you're my mortal enemy on the Dao?"
But he shook his head soon. "Forget it. I'll treat you as a junior on the same path for now."
Then, seemingly annoyed, he stood up. Somehow, he was suddenly standing in front of Du Yu. He gently lifted a corner of the swaddling cloth, then did some finger calculations, nodded, and murmured to himself: "A small karma. No harm in taking it away. Could save him from some unnecessary troubles. What proper drifter travels the world with a little orphan? How would he win the hearts of fairies then? This is as much as I can do. This child barely has some cultivation aptitude. Everything is fine except for fear of wealth. Little one, count yourself lucky to have met us two brothers in this life."
Before Du Yu knew it, the burden in his arms lightened—the child had been taken by Zhou Fei.
Du Yu jolted and instinctively moved to fight this man to the death.
His life, death, fortune, and the safety of his parents and sect—all rested on this little mansion.
The man laughed: "Alright. You go back and tell my brother that I, Zhou Fei, am taking this child to Bao Vase Continent to settle him. Tell him to travel in peace—nothing will go wrong."
Du Yu's eyes turned red, and he reached for the child. How could you just take him like that, without so much as a word!
The man extended a finger and froze Du Yu in place. He blinked. "I've heard of Ghost Axe Palace. Have you heard of Jiang Shangzhen? Sheng ginger's Sheng, Shang as in 'esteem,' Zhen as in 'truth'?"
Du Yu almost got confused. Startled and furious, he suddenly came to his senses and roared: "I am your father Jiang Shangzhen! Give the child back!"
The man extended his palm to gently cover the swaddling cloth so as not to wake the child, then gave a thumbs-up: "Good man! More impressive than that Xia Zhen, who can fight and run, barely possessing half of my former glory. My brother chose you to guard the house—sharp-eyed indeed."
Du Yu had truly never heard of any Jiang Shangzhen.
But Jiang Shangzhen then gave him an education. He flicked his wrist, produced a golden military-class armor pill, and tossed it lightly to Du Yu, landing perfectly on his immobilized head. "Since you're a supreme martial expert, here's a Golden Crow Armor befitting an expert's status."
Then, as Du Yu watched dumbfounded, the man looked at him with pity. "Your Ghost Axe Palace definitely doesn't have any beautiful female immortals. Am I wrong?"
Du Yu's mind went blank.
The man vanished without a trace.
Soundless.
A snap of fingers sounded, and Du Yu's body swayed. His limbs returned to normal.
He caught the golden military armor pill. It was a bit heavy.
What was this all about?
Du Yu felt like he was dreaming.
Since fortune and disaster were unpredictable, even holding a heavy treasure, he couldn't help but feel uneasy.
At Cangyun Lake Dragon Palace, Lake Lord Yin Hou was the first to exclaim in shock: "Disaster!"
Ye Han and Fan Weiran exchanged glances.
Then Yan Qing suddenly raised her head, looking toward the main entrance.
He Lu, who had been smiling at her all along, followed her gaze and looked outside the hall door.
First, the entire Dragon Palace began to shake violently.
Then a white-robed figure rode his sword into view. He held a sword scabbard in hand, landed gracefully, and strode across the palace threshold. The sword sheathed itself automatically.
Finally, a series of sounds rolled in like spring thunder over the lake, left far behind by this man.
That white-robed sword immortal wore a smile, walking without pause. He held the scabbard, pushed it forward lightly, and the sword flew out of the scabbard, flipped, and—point down—embedded itself in the dragon palace floor. The blade slanted, just stuck in the ground.
As the man stopped gracefully, his two snow-white sleeves still fluttering, one hand behind his back, he extended the other toward the sword on the ground. Everyone heard him say with a smile: "Take it, if you dare."
But the next sentence was even more chilling: "Fail to take the sword, and leave your head."
The third sentence, however, made everyone's heartstrings relax slightly.
Except for one young man, also dressed in white robes—He Lu.
"He Lu, you first."