Chapter 510: Senior, Let Me Yield Three Punches

Chapter 510: Senior, Let Me Yield Three Punches

Having roamed about this whole way, passing through the Peach Branch Nation without visiting the Cyan Chime Mansion, the black-clad little girl was a bit unhappy. But after bypassing the Golden Crow Palace, where sword lights were said to frequently whistle about, the little girl's mood improved again.

The little girl's mood was like the clouds in the sky.

On this day, at a small immortal ferry crossing where everything was novel and fresh, she could finally board a cloud-soaring ferry to head to Spring Dew Garden! This journey had been exhausting, enough to tire a person to death.

The black-clad little girl stood inside the large bamboo chest, her eyes wide open, nearly straining them with strain. Unfortunately, they had agreed beforehand that when they reached places where cultivators gathered, she had to stand obediently in the chest like a mute little girl. There was hardly anything inside the large bamboo chest, just a broken sword that had never been drawn from its scabbard. She secretly kicked it a few times, but every time she wanted to crouch down and pull it out to look, that person would speak up and tell her not to do it. He even scared her, saying that sword had tolerated her for a long time, and if she pushed further, he wouldn't care anymore.

This left her feeling stifled for a long time. So now, she raised one hand, hesitated for a moment, then still gave him a firm knock on the back of his head with her knuckles. Then she began to hold onto the bamboo chest with both hands, pretending to doze off, snoring loudly. The scholar didn't pay it much mind at first, busy haggling with the shopkeeper inside a store, buying a set of ancient stele rubbings. Later, finding it amusing, the little girl rolled up her sleeves and gave him a series of thumping knocks. The white-robed scholar walked out of the shop after spending ten Snowflake Coins to buy the set of thirty-two stele rubbings. Without turning around, he asked, "Still not done?"

The black-clad little girl's arm froze in midair, then with a gentle motion, she patted the scholar's shoulder. "Alright, now you're spotless, looking even more like a scholar. Chen, I'm not one to say this, but you're really a blockhead with no sense of romance. When you stopped that tower ship on the river, all those noble ladies and good women from wealthy families were on board, staring at you like they wanted to eat you up. Why didn't you just board and have some tea or wine? It's not like they would actually eat you."

Chen Ping'an, however, changed the subject, saying, "You hit me sixteen times. I've recorded it in my ledger—one time is one Snowflake Coin."

The little girl crossed her arms, standing on tiptoe inside the chest, and sneered, "Small change, a drop in the bucket!"

Chen Ping'an brought her along to board the ferry.

Carrying such a little spirit on his back was still somewhat eye-catching.

But most of the glances that came their way were dismissive and mocking. Out in the world, a cultivator who could use a mountain lord as a mount to traverse mountains and ride a dragon into rivers to churn seas—that was a true hero, a real immortal.

Chen Ping'an thought it was fine.

During the Grain Rain season, it was often sunny during the day and rainy at night. Rain gave birth to all grains, and heaven and earth were clear and pure. In fact, it was suitable for traveling on foot, enjoying the landscapes along the way.

But Chen Ping'an still hoped to catch the tail end of that gathering at Spring Dew Garden. As a bundle-hawker, he couldn't always be idle.

The black-clad little girl still wouldn't let it go. "It would have been fine to go up to that tower ship and have some tea. I saw clearly from the shore—there were two beautiful young women in gorgeous dresses, really not bad at all. That would have been a wonderful chance for a romantic encounter."

Chen Ping'an chuckled softly. "If you were a man, I reckon hanging around at Mute Girl Lake for too long, you'd eventually get lustful and cause trouble everywhere. If I ran into you then, the Cyan Chime Mansion would catch you to be a river hag, or the Golden Crow Palace would take you as a maid. I wouldn't lift a finger; I'd just stand by and applaud."

The little girl was so angry she punched him in the shoulder. "Nonsense! I'm a big water monster, but I've never harmed anyone! I don't even bother scaring people!"

Chen Ping'an was unperturbed. "That's another Snowflake Coin."

The little girl was about to punch him in the back of the head, but he said, "Hitting my head—once costs one Lesser Heat Coin."

She weighed her own resources. Excluding the Grain Rain Coin she had used as her ransom, she didn't have much left.

No wonder those wandering martial artists who passed by Mute Girl Lake often muttered that money gives a man courage.

Frowning, she thought for a moment and said, "Chen, can you lend me a Grain Rain Coin? I'm a bit short right now—I can't hit you many times."

Chen Ping'an simply ignored her and asked instead, "Do you know why I bought that jar of pickled vegetables back in the prefectural city?"

The little girl looked puzzled. "How would I know what you're thinking? Did we run out of pickles on the road? I didn't eat that much either. You're so stingy—you'd give me just a tiny bit with your chopsticks and then stare at me."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "I heard that pickled fish is delicious."

The little girl thought she was very clever and understood immediately. She looked as if she was about to cry, squatting in the bamboo chest and silently wiping tears. She was both clever and pitiful.

But when they reached the bottom-floor room of the ferry, the guy put down the bamboo chest, and she hopped out, hands behind her back, looking around with disdain. "So shabby!"

Chen Ping'an took off his bamboo hat. There was tea on the table, reportedly a local specialty of the ferry port called "Winding Village Tea," unavailable elsewhere. He poured a cup, drank it—there was almost no spiritual energy, but it was indeed sweet and refreshing. Legend had it that before the ferry port was built, a retired hermit official wanted to build a summer residence. He opened up the mountain and cut bamboo, discovering a small pool. At that time, the morning glow veiled it like a gauze, and the water was especially clear. It was best for brewing tea, second best for making wine. Later, many people came drawn by its reputation, including cultivators who often exchanged poems with literary giants. They discovered that the pool was actually rich in spiritual energy, but it was all confined to the small hill area. Thus, a immortal ferry port was established, though it was quite far from the master's sect's ancestral hall.

Chen Ping'an began practicing his Six-Step Stance with both hands forming a sword furnace. The little girl sat on a chair, swinging her legs, and said gloomily, "I want to eat that turtle jelly from the shop at the corner of the ferry port. It was cold and bitter. Back then, I could only stand inside the bamboo chest, dizzy from the jostling, so I didn't really taste it properly. It's all your fault for liking to wander around—looking here and there, buying very little, walking a lot. Hurry up, buy me a serving of turtle jelly to make up for it."

Chen Ping'an paid no attention.

The little girl was just feeling bored and wanted to chat about something.

But when that white-robed scholar started pacing back and forth again, she knew she'd have to continue being bored alone.

She jumped off the chair, dragged herself over to the window, climbed up, and crossed her arms. The ferry had two floors. That miserly guy was unwilling to stay in a room upstairs with a better view, so this room was often passed by people walking on the deck outside. There were also a few people lingering by the railing, which annoyed her. With so many people, not a single one knew she was the big water monster from Mute Girl Lake.

The ferry slowly rose into the air. She swayed slightly, and suddenly her mood improved. Turning her head, she said to the guy, "We're ascending! Ascending! Look, the shops at the ferry port are getting smaller! Like grains of rice!"

This was her first time on an immortal ferry. She wondered if the sea of clouds in the sky was edible. Having lived at the bottom of Mute Girl Lake for so many years, she had always been curious about that.

The guy just kept pacing back and forth in the room.

There were quite a few people by the ferry's railing, chatting about many recent interesting events. Whenever the conversation turned to the Precious Elephant Kingdom and the Yellow Wind Valley, the little girl immediately perked up her ears, unwilling to miss a single word.

Someone said that the Yellow Robe Patriarch of Yellow Wind Valley had actually perished—body and Dao dissolved. But it wasn't at the hands of the Golden Crow Palace's young granduncle; it seemed the Yellow Robe Patriarch was severely injured and then subdued by a passing virtuous monk from the Precious Elephant Kingdom. For some reason, the old monk neither confirmed nor revealed more details.

The little girl was so angry she shook her head and scratched her hair with both hands. If it weren't for that white-robed scholar telling her not to open her mouth to strangers, she would have opened it wide as a winnowing fan!

She really wanted to yell out the window, "That Yellow Robe Patriarch was killed by the two of us!"

The little girl turned around aggrievedly and lowered her voice, "Can I reveal my true form and slice off a few catties of my own flesh? You can make boiled fish with it. Then can I go tell those people about it? I won't say you killed the Yellow Robe Patriarch, just that I, the big water monster from Mute Girl Lake, witnessed the battle with my own eyes."

But the guy was unfeeling. "What's the rush? Later, when someone writes a strange tale or a mountain-and-water travelogue and publishes it, everyone will know anyway. You could even say you killed the Yellow Robe Patriarch with one punch."

The little girl thought for a moment, still with a resentful look, but it did seem to make sense.

Fortunately, the guy still had some conscience. "The first-floor rooms on this ferry don't come with complimentary mountain newspapers. Go buy a copy. If there are leftover unsold ones from before, you can buy those too. But if it's too expensive, forget it."

The little girl said, "Oh," figuring it wasn't a loss to walk around outside the ferry a bit more. She jumped off the chair, untied her bundle, and took out a pouch that shimmered with radiant light and spilled treasure-like brilliance. The guy waved his sleeve, closing the window, and tossed out a Tortoise Carrying Stele talisman, pasting it on the window. The little girl was used to such oddities. She took out a handful of Snowflake Coins from the small pouch, thought for a moment, then picked out a Lesser Heat Coin. During this process, the pouch jingled—besides immortal coins, it was stuffed with all sorts of trinkets, like that string of snowy bells she had once given away, all treasures she had painstakingly accumulated over the years. She put the pouch back into the bundle, casually left it on the table, and at the door, reminded him, "Be savvy when walking the martial world. Don't let some thief steal our belongings, or you'll be drinking the northwest wind!"

Chen Ping'an laughed. "Oh, you're generous today, willing to spend your own money."

The little girl raised an eyebrow at the door, turned her head, and said, "If you keep making snide remarks like that, we'll split the cost of the mountain newspaper half and half!"

The guy immediately shut up.

The little girl sighed, putting on an air of experience. "Walking the martial world like this, how are you going to make those mountain immortals fall for you?"

Chen Ping'an kept practicing his stance, smiling. "Same rule: no causing trouble. Buy the newspaper and come back immediately."

About the time it takes to burn a stick of incense later, the little girl pushed open the door, swaggered back in, and slammed the stack of mountain newspapers heavily onto the table. While the guy had his back to her practicing his stance, she quickly grimaced, then moved her lips slightly, swallowed, and when he turned back around, she immediately crossed her arms and sat upright in the chair.

Chen Ping'an stopped his boxing stance, took out a folding fan, and sat by the table. He glanced at her. "Did you buy it too expensive?"

She sneered, "Do I look like an idiot? These precious mountain newspapers, original price two Lesser Heat Coins, but I only spent one Lesser Heat Coin! Who am I? I'm the big water monster from Mute Girl Lake! I've seen merchants do business. When I haggle, I make them cut flesh with every knife, wringing their hearts."

Chen Ping'an was a bit helpless. Flipping through the newspapers, he saw that some were from two years ago. At normal market price, the total might indeed be worth one Lesser Heat Coin. But mountain newspapers were like seasonal fruits and vegetables—they often expired and became worthless. So many newspapers looked like a lot, but in truth, they weren't worth even half a Lesser Heat Coin. That wasn't the issue. Business was business. As long as both parties agreed, there was no such thing as a deal where only I should profit. But since some things weren't business, they shouldn't be so easily brushed off.

This little girl in front of him was actually very good.

She was indeed simple-minded and a bit foolish, but there were things about her that money couldn't buy. Like that young bodyguard with dry, cracked lips bleeding, handing out his water skin while sitting on horseback. Even if Chen Ping'an didn't take it, it could still quench his thirst.

When the little girl was bullied badly outside, she seemed to think that was just how things were outside. She staggered back before opening the door, first hiding far away in the corridor, crouching by the wall for a long time to recover, then walked into the room. She didn't feel that just because she had a familiar sword immortal beside her, she had to act a certain way.

Perhaps she thought this was her own martial world? One of the stories she would accumulate for future books. Some things had to be written down; some embarrassing small matters were fine to leave out.

Chen Ping'an leaned back in his chair, holding his folding fan, gently waving it to create a cool breeze. "If it hurts, just cry out. It's not like I'm the scholar writing your story. What's there to be afraid of?"

The little girl's face crumpled instantly, with snot and tears streaming. But she still quickly turned her head, swallowing a mouthful of blood.

Chen Ping'an smiled and asked, "What exactly happened?"

The little girl raised her hands, wiped her face carelessly, and kept her head down, saying nothing.

Chen Ping'an said gently, "What, afraid that if you tell me, you'll think that today was your only chance to leave the bamboo chest and have a little adventure alone, and you'll never get another chance?"

In truth, having traveled through so many mountains and rivers together, she had never caused any trouble.

She just opened her eyes wide, full of curiosity and longing for the vast world beyond the Yellow Wind Valley and Mute Girl Lake.

The little girl nodded slightly, listless.

Chen Ping'an closed his fan and smiled. "Tell me about it. You've seen so many of my embarrassments along the way. It's only fair you let me have a laugh too. That's called reciprocity."

The little girl lay on the table, her head tilted sideways against the surface, and stretched out a finger to lightly trace the tabletop. She had no knots in her heart, no indignation, just a bit of grain-sized melancholy. She said softly, "I don't want to talk about it. It's not a big deal. I've seen a lot of life and death, me, the big water monster. I've seen many people die near Mute Girl Lake. I didn't dare save them. The Yellow Robe Patriarch was very powerful. As soon as I went out, I couldn't save anyone, and I would die too. I could only secretly gather some corpses. Some were carried away crying; some were left in the wind and sand, pitiful. I'm not afraid of death, but I'm afraid no one will remember me. There are so many people in the world, and not a single one knows me yet."

Chen Ping'an leaned forward and tapped the little girl's head lightly with his fan. "If you don't tell me now, later when you do, I might not listen."

The little girl sat up straight, "Hey!" she said, shaking her head left and right, smiling happily. "I won't say, I won't say!"

Then she saw the white-robed scholar tilt his head, holding his fan against his own head, smiling as he said, "Do you know that many times, many people—if their parents don't teach them, their teachers don't teach them, their masters don't teach them—then the world has to teach them how to behave?"

The little girl started to scrunch up her little face and faint eyebrows again. What was he talking about? She didn't understand. But if she let him know she didn't understand, that might not be good. So she pretended to understand? But pretending was a bit hard, like that time they stumbled into a secluded peach blossom paradise, and he was asked by a few mountain spirits wearing Confucian robes to compose a poem—he was completely stumped.

The guy stood up. Without any visible movement, the talisman flew off the window and slipped into his sleeve. The window opened by itself.

He stood at the window. The ferry was already above the sea of clouds. A clear breeze brushed his face. His two snow-white sleeves fluttered. She was a little annoyed—so what if he was tall!

After hesitating, she stood on the chair. Suddenly, she figured something out: encountering some danger while walking the martial world would only make her seem more experienced!

Her face immediately brightened with a smile. Hands behind her back, she paced on the small area of the chair, puffing out her chest, and laughed, "After I paid for the mountain newspaper, the ferryman who sold it to me burst out laughing with a friend next to him. I didn't know what they were laughing about, so I turned and smiled at them. Didn't you say, whether in the mountains or below, whether human or demon, one should be polite to others? Then the ferryman's friend, who was also about to leave the room, happened to bump into me near the door. I lost my footing, and the newspapers scattered all over the floor. I said it was fine and bent down to pick them up. That person stepped on my foot and even twisted his toe hard—it probably wasn't an accident. I couldn't help it; I winced and bared my teeth. Then he kicked me flying. But the ferryman said I was still a guest, so the fierce man didn't bother with me anymore. I picked up the newspapers and ran back."

She crossed her arms and said seriously, "I'm not lying to you. It hurt so much I just bared my teeth a tiny bit!"

Afraid he wouldn't believe her, she held up two fingers. "At most this much!"

The guy turned around and asked with a smile, "What do you think about being kind to everyone at all times and in all things? Should it be split in two: be kind to the good and harsh to the bad? But once you've sorted out the order and magnitude of dealing with the wicked, if the punishment you inflict on them is inconsistent with the order, wouldn't you be violating the principle of priority? When good and evil clash, evil gives birth to evil. Accumulating bit by bit is also a kind of 'accumulating earth to make a mountain, where wind and rain arise'—but it would be a phenomenon of dark wind and foul rain. What to do then?"

The little girl strained her face, silently telling herself, I understand, I just don't want to talk because I haven't eaten enough and don't have the energy.

The guy smiled, gently tapping his own heart with his fan. "Don't worry. I'm just asking myself."

The black-clad little girl didn't want him to be like this, so she felt a little self-blame.

Rather than have him shrouded in clouds and haze, she preferred the him who planted rice seedlings and split mountains with his fists.

But then the guy suddenly laughed. He flipped over and leapt out the window, landing on the deck outside. "Come on, let's enjoy the scenery. Not only is there foul miasma, but there are also magnificent mountains and rivers."

He leaned at the window, reached out a hand, and teased, "Let me lift you out."

The little girl snapped, "Back off! I can do it myself!"

She jumped out the window herself, but once bitten, twice shy. She shrank back, grabbed his sleeve, and actually felt that standing in the bamboo chest was pretty good.

She turned to look at the open window and whispered, "We're poor, but at least we have food and clothes. If someone steals our belongings, that would make things worse. I don't want to eat pickled fish, and you shouldn't either."

But the guy said, "That depends on whether they have the life to hold onto what they steal."

She blinked and nodded vigorously. "Awesome!"

The guy tapped her head with his fan. "Don't learn bad things."

She clutched her head and stepped on his foot.

The guy laughed. "This is fine."

In the end, she was too scared to walk on the railing, so he had to carry her and set her on it.

Then, as she walked along, she felt extremely proud.

Many people were looking at her.

She looked down. That guy was lazily walking below, one hand waving a fan, the other raised high, holding her small hand.

Then she said he didn't need to protect her anymore; she could walk by herself, very steady!

At that moment on the ferry, many cultivators and pure martial artists saw this strange scene.

A little girl in black, swinging her arms, head up, chest out, striding boldly.

Below, by the railing, there was a white-robed scholar holding a folding fan, walking slowly with a smile.

The little girl asked casually, "Chen, one time I woke up in the middle of the night and you weren't around. Where did you go?"

Chen Ping'an laughed. "Just wandered around. Pretended to be almost beaten to death, then almost beat something to pieces... Nothing much. Think of it as flipping to a boring story in a book. Read halfway, felt sleepy, closed the book, and said I'd read it later."

The little girl frowned. "Talking like that—only half the story—is very annoying."

The guy smiled. "Walking the martial world together—cut me some slack, okay?"

The little girl crossed her arms on the railing. "I want turtle jelly! One bowl isn't enough—must be two big bowls. I paid for the mountain newspaper, so you pay for the two bowls of turtle jelly."

The guy nodded. "Fine, but only if the next ferry port sells turtle jelly."

The little girl frowned. "No turtle jelly? Then I'll pick something else."

As soon as she said it, she thought she was incredibly clever and strategic!

The guy hesitated for a long time. "Nothing too expensive, though."

The little girl slowly lifted her foot. "I'll kick you."

The guy also slowly tilted his head to dodge and used his fan to tap her foot away. "Walk properly."

Among the onlookers were ferry managers and workers.

Also the man who was on the second floor, enjoying the view with friends. He and seven or eight others were surrounding a young man and woman like stars around the moon.

He was staying in a room next to the Heaven-class cabin—equally expensive, but he didn't have to pay a single Snowflake Coin himself.

That was the benefit of having connections between sects.

Calling friends, soaring through the mountains, training in the mortal world, looking down on princes and nobles, looking down on the martial world.

A young female cultivator of average appearance but wearing a rare, precious robe smiled and asked, "This little fish spirit—has it reached the Cavern Dwelling realm?"

The handsome young cultivator beside her nodded. "If I'm not mistaken, it's exactly at the Cavern Dwelling realm, not yet proficient in wind-riding. If it weren't for the ferry's protective array, if it fell—well, if it fell into a river or lake, it'd be okay, but if it fell onto a mountain peak on land, it would surely die."

The man chuckled softly. "Master Wei, this little water spirit of unknown origin went to buy mountain newspapers from Manager Liu on the ferry. It got taken for a ride, spending a whole Lesser Heat Coin."

The young man called Master Wei pretended to be surprised. "So generous?"

The woman covered her mouth with a smile and looked at the young man beside her, her eyes full of obvious affection.

The rest laughed in unison, as if they had heard a very witty remark.

Hangers-on—weren't they just there to read the room and turn private amusement into public entertainment?

The young female cultivator asked again, "Master Wei, that white-robed scholar—does he look like the master of that dirty little thing? He doesn't seem like a Middle Five Realms qi refiner, more like a crude martial artist?"

Master Wei smiled and turned to look at the woman. "You can't say that in front of my father—it would embarrass him. He's currently the number one martial artist in our Grand View Dynasty."

The young female cultivator quickly apologized with a smile. "It was Qingqing's careless remark."

Master Wei said helplessly, "Qingqing, being so polite—are you trying to be distant with me?"

The young female cultivator named Qingqing immediately beamed like a flower.

She was from the Night-Illuminating Grass Hall of Spring Dew Garden. Her father was one of Spring Dew Garden's resident elders and also had a knack for making money, independently managing half a mountain range of Spring Dew Garden. In the eyes of mortal dynasties, emperors, and generals, a Golden Core earth immortal was a highly honored guest wherever they went, whether in noble mansions or immortal mountain sects. This time she had descended the mountain specifically to invite the noble young man beside her to Spring Dew Garden for the grand finale banquet of the Spring-Farewell Feast.

On the southeast coast lay the Grand View Dynasty, with three kingdoms as its vassal barriers. The young master was from Iron Hull Manor, one of the dynasty's three most powerful noble families, with generations of officials. Now, the family head, Wei Ying, had abandoned letters for the military in his youth, opening a new path for the family. He now held military power, was the chief pillar of the border defenses. His eldest son served in the court as a vice minister. And this Master Wei, Wei Bai, as General Wei's youngest son, had been doted on since childhood. He was also a young genius in cultivation, extremely famous within the dynasty. There was even a beautiful tale: when the Nascent Soul ancestor of Spring Dew Garden once descended the mountain to travel and passed by the Wei family's Iron Hull Manor, seeing the father and son greet him with wide-open gates, he laughed and said, "Now when outsiders see you father and son and introduce you, they say, 'This is Wei Bai, the son of General Wei Ying.' But in less than thirty years, when outsiders see you father and son, they will only say, 'You, Wei Ying, are the father of Wei Bai.'"

General Wei Ying laughed heartily, naturally delighted, because the patriarch of Spring Dew Garden rarely praised anyone.

With the personal praise of a Nascent Soul ancestor affirming his cultivation talent, Wei Bai became the envy of court and countryside. Even the emperor issued a decree and bestowed a secret treasury treasure upon Iron Hull Manor, hoping Wei Bai would continue to cultivate diligently and become a pillar of the state.

She and Wei Bai weren't really a perfect match in terms of family status.

When they first met, Iron Hull Manor had intended to matchmake them. General Wei Ying said in front of her that they were a heavenly couple, made for each other. But at that time, before the Spring Dew Garden ancestor had visited Grand View Dynasty, her father was reluctant, thinking that Wei Bai, who hadn't yet reached the Cavern Dwelling realm, had an unpredictable future. After all, becoming a qi refiner, the Cavern Dwelling realm was the first major threshold.

Later, as Wei Bai's cultivation path went smoothly, he was young with promise of breaking the Cavern Dwelling bottleneck, and he received the undisguised favor of the Spring Dew Garden ancestor, Iron Hull Manor's status rose accordingly. Then it became her father who was anxious, while Iron Hull Manor started making excuses. Hence, her current descent from the mountain. She didn't need her father to urge her; she was more than willing herself.

She brought no attendants. Along the East China Sea coast, although Spring Dew Garden wasn't the most powerful, it had wide connections, and everyone would give its cultivators a bit of face.

For example, the young granduncle of Golden Crow Palace would come alone every few years, one person, one sword, to the quiet mountains of Spring Dew Garden to fetch water and brew tea.

But Wei Bai had two attendants: a taciturn Iron Hull Manor resident cultivator, said to be a former demonic cultivator who had taken refuge in Iron Hull Manor for decades, and a seventh-rank Golden Body martial artist influential enough to affect the martial fortunes of a vassal kingdom!

Wei Bai turned around and looked at a sturdy old man standing behind the crowd. "Master Liao, can you see the background of that white-robed scholar?"

That man had been resting with his eyes closed. Hearing the young master of Iron Hull Manor's question, he opened his eyes and smiled. "Judging by his breathing and footsteps, he should be equivalent to a fifth-rank martial artist on our Grand View Dynasty's borders, slightly stronger than an ordinary fifth-rank mediocre martial artist from the martial world."

An old woman with a naturally sinister and fierce face beside the sturdy old man said hoarsely, "Young master, Old Liao's guess is about right."

The old man snorted coldly.

Given the disparity in their ages, being called a "lad" by this old woman wasn't really overstepping—but after all, he was a Golden Body martial artist forged in battle, and this old woman, relying on her status as a cultivator, never showed him any respect.

A man from a major Grand View Dynasty martial arts sect rubbed his hands together and chuckled, "Master Wei, how about I go down and test that young martial artist who's like a monkey wearing a hat—try his depth, just as a bit of entertainment to relieve boredom. I'll take the liberty to seek advice from Master Liao on my boxing techniques afterward."

The sect he belonged to was the leading force in the southern martial world of Grand View Dynasty, with nearly ten thousand hangers-on of all sorts, controlling many side incomes related to water transport and salt permits. The money flowed in, but it was all thanks to Fu Bo's face. Without it, they couldn't swallow that money; it would burn through their throats. The sect also had a Golden Body martial arts grandmaster, but he privately admitted that when facing this Liao fellow, he would lose more than he won. The northern martial world had a sect where everyone used swords, with a sect leader and disciples totalling barely over a hundred, yet they could command all northern martial heroes. That old sect leader, who liked to walk the martial world alone, was a grandmaster rumored to have secretly reached the eighth-rank Far Roaming realm. But no one had seen him draw his sword in nearly twenty years. The southern martial world said the old man was elusive precisely to avoid challenges from mountain earth immortals, especially arrogant sword cultivators, because a martial arts sect daring to use the word "sect" was simply asking for trouble.

Hearing the man's eager words, Wei Bai shook his head with a smile. "I think it's better to forget it. You martial artists from the mortal world aren't like our Iron Hull Manor's battlefield soldiers—you all care too much about face. I think that young martial artist isn't having an easy time. He probably thinks he's gotten a lucky break that should belong to a cultivator—that little water spirit recognizes him as its master. So on this trip, boarding an immortal ferry, he can't forget his martial world habits and likes to show off. Let him be. When he gets to Spring Dew Garden, with its mix of dragons and fishes, if he still doesn't know how to restrain himself, he'll suffer."

The man said admiringly, "Master Wei truly has a bodhisattva's heart and an immortal's bearing."

Wei Bai smiled and shook his head. "I'm no immortal yet. Let's talk about that later."

He suddenly turned around. "But you, Ding Tong, are a man of the martial world, not one of us cultivators. You can only hope to live a bit longer—a bit longer—like that mysterious old master Peng, before you can say such things."

The old woman, standing shoulder to shoulder with the sturdy old man at the door behind the crowd, sneered, "That old Peng deserves to be hiding and dodging even as a Far Roaming martial artist. If he were just a Golden Body like Liao here, he wouldn't stir up trouble. If we cultivators stepped on him, we'd be afraid of dirtying our shoe soles. Now he's secretly squeezed into the eighth rank of martial artists, becoming a slightly bigger grasshopper, but he still plays with swords, and his sect dares to use the word 'sect'—who else would the mountain immortals crush?"

The sturdy old man, surnamed Liao, sneered back, "Dare you say that in front of old Peng?"

The old woman clicked her tongue. "Not just in front of him—if he stood before me, I'd say it to his face."

The Golden Body old man couldn't be bothered to argue with an old hag and closed his eyes again to rest.

The man from the martial world didn't feel embarrassed at all—it wasn't aimed at him anyway. And even if it were, being talked about by an old resident of Iron Hull Manor was a great honor. He could tell stories about it back at his sect.

Wei Bai grasped the railing and sighed. "It's said that that Patriarch He from the north recently traveled south. Not only is Patriarch He extraordinarily talented, reaching the Upper Five Realms at such a young age, but she's also blessed with endless fortune. As a cultivator from a small place like Bottleneck, coming to our North Jambu Continent, she first found a small cave heaven, then subdued many great demons and specters, and in such a short time built a sect with the word 'sect' in its name. And she's established a foothold! Using the mountain-protecting array and the small cave heaven, she's repelled two Jade Pure realm cultivators. Truly admirable! In the future, when I travel north, I must go see her. Even if I only see her from afar, it's worth it."

The young female cultivator from Spring Dew Garden's Night-Illuminating Grass Hall couldn't help feeling a little depressed.

But she quickly let it go.

Because Wei Bai himself knew clearly that he and that lofty Patriarch He were only separated by a chance—for him to see her from afar.

Wei Bai suddenly leaned closer to the woman beside him and whispered, "Qingqing, the moon in the sky is the moon in the sky; the person before my eyes is the person before my eyes. I know my place."

The young female cultivator's frown immediately smoothed into a smile.

Down on the first floor's railing, that little dirty thing was still running joyfully on the railing.

And that young man in a white robe, slightly soiled with mud and dust, was still putting on airs, waving his fan.

Wei Bai smiled knowingly.

Elsewhere on the second floor, someone finally found it offensive and chose to act.

Wei Bai frowned.

That concealed qi arrow strike should have hit the black-clad little girl's leg, shattering her knee. The force of the arrow penetrating bone would carry her just enough to break through the thin barrier of the ferry's flight array. To outsiders, it would look like the little girl lost her footing and fell off the ferry, then accidentally died. The ferry wouldn't be held responsible—she fell from the railing while the ferry neither shook nor swayed. Who could they blame?

But unfortunately, that concealed qi arrow was blocked by the white-robed scholar with his fan. However, it didn't look easy for him—he quickly retreated two steps, leaned against the railing, and steadied himself.

Wei Bai shook his head.

What a waste.

It was a good thing he hadn't let that sycophant go down earlier. If word got out, he and Iron Hull Manor would be embarrassed. This trip to Spring Dew Garden would be ruined.

The white-robed scholar looked furious and shouted, "Does no one on this ferry care? Someone on the second floor just attacked!"

The black-clad little girl quickly stopped, jumped off the railing, and hid beside him, her face pale. Not forgetting his instructions, she asked via mental voice, "Is he more powerful than the Yellow Robe Patriarch?"

The white-robed scholar didn't use mental voice but nodded directly and whispered, "Much more powerful."

But it was power in cunning, not in cultivation.

The little girl panicked. "Then we should run, quickly!"

The white-robed scholar suddenly changed his expression. He placed one hand gently on her head, closed his fan, and smiled softly. "If we run today and let these scoundrels kill others tomorrow, what then? The world is a pot of porridge, and those flies' droppings should be fished out and thrown away—one by one. Remember that group we met on the martial world road? Remember what I said afterward?"

The little girl thought for a moment and nodded. "You said that when disaster really strikes, it seems everyone is weak. Before that, everyone seems strong, because there are always weaker weaklings."

Earlier, they had been slowly climbing a mountain. According to locals, there had been strange things on the mountain recently, so they wanted to check it out.

On a quiet mountain path, they encountered a group of martial heroes riding fast horses, drinking wine, full of high spirits, shouting that they would kill that spirit to make a name for themselves.

For some reason, the white-robed scholar walking in the middle of the path didn't yield, and he was knocked flying by a big horse. The riders all laughed loudly, their horse hooves thundering as they galloped away.

But at the time, she wasn't worried.

A sword immortal who could beat the Yellow Robe Patriarch to death.

And at that time, he hadn't even used the flying sword he kept in his wine jug.

But she was still angry.

She couldn't help opening her mouth, but the white-robed scholar was already standing beside her, gently pressing her head down with his hand, smiling and saying it was fine.

Later, the two of them saw that group of martial artists stopped by a tall, fanged spirit over three meters high. It was chewing on an arm, clutching the bloody corpse of a man.

The little girl could roughly tell that the dead man was the one who had first knocked the white-robed scholar off his horse.

In the end, she hid behind the white-robed scholar. He extended his closed fan, pointing at the violent, man-eating spirit, and laughed, "First, finish your last meal. Then we'll talk."

That spirit blocking the road actually dropped the corpse in its hand and tried to flee into the dense forest.

Those martial artists, who had earlier been full of bravado about going up the mountain to kill demons, began kneeling and kowtowing, begging for their lives.

The little girl didn't really like this story from the martial world.

From beginning to end, she didn't like it.

On the second floor of the ferry, at another observation deck, there was also a group of people.

When they saw the white-robed scholar block that attack, they lost interest.

Just let that big one and the little one pass.

And the white-robed scholar didn't seem to dare to seek retribution, as if he was pretending nothing had happened.

The group on this observation deck burst into laughter.

They didn't care if that big one and the little one knew who had attacked.

A ferry worker reluctantly walked up to the white-robed scholar. He wasn't worried about this passenger complaining, but that he was forced by the manager to come here and might inadvertently incur the displeasure of the distinguished guests on the second floor. Then he wouldn't get any tips on this trip to Spring Dew Garden.

The young worker stood sternly before the white-robed scholar and asked, "What are you shouting about? Where did you see someone attacking?"

The white-robed scholar turned to the black-clad little girl. "Was it him who sold you the mountain newspapers and persuaded that other guest not to kill you, playing the good guy?"

She shook her head. It was an older man.

The white-robed scholar lightly tapped his chest with his fan and muttered to himself, "Cultivators need to cultivate their hearts. If they walk lame, they'll never reach the highest place."

The black-clad little girl tugged his sleeve, raised her head, and whispered to him, "Don't be angry, or I'll be angry at you! I'm very fierce!"

The white-robed scholar looked up at the second floor. "No, I need to reason with them. Last time at Cangyun Lake, I didn't say enough."

The young worker reached out to push the white-robed scholar, who looked unpleasant—what was he playing at being refined? He reached out his hand. "You're not going to let this go, are you? Get back to your room and cool off!"

Then he stood dumbfounded.

Why couldn't his hand go any further, just an inch away from that man?

The white-robed scholar didn't look at him but smiled. "Suppressing myself to the fourth rank—did you really think I'm just a fourth-rank martial artist?"

The young worker suddenly bowed and smiled. "Sir, please continue enjoying the view. I'll take my leave."

Without another word, he turned and ran.

And he really did run off.

Running to the bow, he turned around—the white-robed scholar was gone, leaving only a frowning black-clad little girl.

On the second floor, not far from Wei Bai's group, at another observation deck.

Seven or eight male and female cultivators traveling together all stepped back in unison.

With a blur before their eyes, the white-robed scholar, who had struggled to block that qi arrow, was now inexplicably standing on the railing, one hand behind his back, the other lightly waving his fan, looking down at them from above.

When one of them tried to speak, his spiritual qi suddenly stalled, as if bearing a mountain on his back. He turned red-faced and speechless.

The white-robed scholar smiled. "When I'm reasoning, you just listen."

With a snap, he closed his fan and lifted it slightly.

The qi refiner who had shot the arrow was lifted into the air by his head, and with a casual toss, he was thrown out of the ferry.

The fan lifted again. Another person was hoisted as if strangled by the neck, then sent flying out of the ferry with a sweep of the scholar's sleeve.

One by one, they were all thrown off like dumplings.

The observation deck was now empty, except for that white-robed scholar with a vermillion wine jug hanging at his waist.

He leaned back and flew backwards out of the ferry, his two snow-white sleeves flapping loudly, then dropped out of sight in an instant.

A moment later.

He reappeared on the ferry's railing, looking up at the observation deck near the Heaven-class cabins, smiling without a word.

Wei Bai twitched the corner of his mouth. "Master Liao, what do you think?"

The sturdy old man had already stepped forward, using his energy to push aside those useless sycophants from the mountains and the mortal world. The old man stared at the white-robed scholar and said solemnly, "Hard to say."

Wei Bai glanced at the man from the martial world, whose face had turned pale, then withdrew his gaze and smiled. "So it's a bit troublesome?"

The old woman also stood beside Wei Bai. "What's the trouble? Let Liao go down and play with him for a while. We'll see what he's made of."

Wei Bai didn't act on his own. Even if they were dependents and retainers, they were still people, especially those with real skill. He never spared his closeness and respect. So Wei Bai said softly, "Master Liao, you don't have to stick your neck out."

The sturdy old man clenched his fist, all his joints cracking like firecrackers, and sneered, "Those southern pretty boys can't take a punch. Old Peng up north and his swordsmen are protected by that prime minister. It's rare to meet someone who dares to provoke our Iron Hull Manor. Whether he's a martial artist or a cultivator, I'm not missing this chance today."

Without any grand aura, the Iron Hull Manor Golden Body old man didn't throw a straight punch but instead placed one hand on the railing and lightly descended to the first-floor deck, laughing, "Kid, care to warm up with me? Don't worry, I won't kill you. We have no enmity."

That man tilted his head, using his closed fan to prop his chin, as if thinking about something. Then he stowed the fan and also landed on the deck. "The ones who let others have a move usually end up badly..."

He paused for a moment, then grinned brightly. "So, I'll let you have three moves instead."

One hand behind his back, holding the fan, he pointed at his forehead. "You throw three punches first. We'll talk after that. Life and death on our own, what do you say?"

With mutual understanding, they each stood on opposite sides of the ferry, about twenty paces apart.

All the passengers on the ferry were whispering.

Wei Bai and his group found it almost unbelievable.

Only one first-floor passenger, who had started his journey from south of the Precious Elephant Kingdom and was fleeing toward Spring Dew Garden, turned pale and trembled.

He wanted to cry but had no tears.

Why did I run into this unpredictable, profoundly skilled young sword immortal again?

Young sword immortal master, I'm just escaping—to avoid meeting you again! I didn't intentionally board the same ferry!

The Golden Body martial artist surnamed Liao sneered, "Kid, you really want to let me have three punches?"

The white-robed scholar looked surprised. "Not enough? How about four? If you don't feel confident, five—just five punches. Truly no more. Any more, and the onlookers will get bored."

The old man gave a thumbs-up. "After three punches, I hope you still have a whole corpse."

He said no more, spread his stance, energy surging, his fighting intent soaring.

A powerful wind hit everyone's faces on both floors.

Some less accomplished qi refiners and martial artists could barely open their eyes.

With a thunderous crash.

The walls and windows on the side of the cabin produced a continuous sound of cracking.

The sturdy old man stood where the white-robed scholar had been. But when he looked, the white-robed scholar hadn't been shattered into pieces—he was standing at the bow, his white robe and big sleeves billowing like snow flying.

Some who recognized the old man as a member of Iron Hull Manor had to swallow their cheers.

The man's throat moved slightly, as if he wasn't as relaxed as he appeared—he must have forcibly swallowed blood that had surged to his mouth. Still, he smiled and said, "That punch—if it were someone else, at most it would kill a sixth-rank martial artist on the spot. Old senior, you're still kind-hearted and merciful."

The old man squinted. The young man's white robe, only now had the dust on it been shaken off by his energy, but there wasn't a single tear. The old man said solemnly, "An upper-grade Dharma robe! No wonder! Good scheme, good cunning, well hidden!"

The man still holding his fan walked forward slowly. "I sold everything I had to barely buy this Dharma robe. You're complaining I wasn't beaten to death by your punch? Old senior, if you keep this up, you're not being chivalrous. Fine, fine, I'll remove the robe's effects. Two punches left."

The old man stomped the ground—the entire ferry dropped by over ten feet—and shot forward like thunder, throwing a punch at the peak of his life's martial intent.

This time, the white-robed scholar should either have his body explode or at least be punched through the bow and fall to the ground.

But no.

Not only that.

He stood still, still holding the fan in one hand, but he had raised the hand that was behind his back.

This time, it was the sturdy old man who slid backwards, steadied himself, his shoulder slightly tilted.

On the second floor, Wei Bai's face darkened.

The old woman's face was ashen, her mind unsettled.

The white-robed scholar didn't move for a long time. Then he cried out, "Ouch!" and swayed his body without moving his feet, pretending to stagger. "Old senior's boxing is like a god, truly terrifying. Fortunately, you only have one punch left. My heart is still pounding. Good thing, good thing you didn't agree to let you have five punches in one go. I'm really scared now."

All the ferry passengers were about to lose it.

They had never in their lives seen someone who was so good at acting yet put in so little effort!

The sturdy old man smiled. "Then this is the last punch!"

He took a deep breath.

His abundant qi swelled his robe.

Then, an unexpected change.

The dignified Iron Hull Manor Golden Body martial artist did not throw his punch at the white-robed scholar but veered off course, heading straight for the black-clad little girl who had been standing by the railing. Every time she saw the white-robed scholar safe, she would force a straight face, hold back a smile, and secretly raise her little hands to clap. She clapped quickly but silently, deliberately not letting her palms meet.

In an instant.

Time itself seemed to freeze.

A white-robed figure stood beside the black-clad little girl. His left hand, like a hook, grabbed the Iron Hull Manor martial arts grandmaster's neck, preventing the forward-leaning old man from moving an inch forward. Blood gushed from the old man's neck. The white-robed scholar held his fan in his right hand, gently released his fingers, and lightly pushed the old man's forehead. With a bang, a Golden Body martial artist forged in battle crashed through the stern and fell out of the ferry.

The white-robed scholar turned to look at the second floor. He wiped his left hand back and forth on the railing a few times, squinted, and smiled. "What do you say?"

On the second-floor observation deck, Wei Bai said nothing, and the old woman said nothing.

A moment later.

Everyone heard a distant sound.

Behind the ferry, a golden light exploded. Then sword light arrived in an instant. A young boy with a golden hairpin, riding a flying sword, looked over at the railing and asked, "Was it you who split the thundercloud above our Golden Crow Palace with a single sword stroke?"

The white-robed scholar looked bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

The young sword immortal smiled helplessly. "When we get to Spring Dew Garden, I'll treat you to tea."

The sword light faded into the distance.

The black-clad little girl, for some reason, felt that such mountain stories were heroic deeds, but she couldn't be happy. She lowered her head, walked to the white-robed scholar's side, and gently tugged his sleeve. "I'm sorry."

The man crouched down, grabbed her cheeks with both hands, gently pulled, then made a funny face at her. "What's wrong, what's wrong?"