# Chapter 527: Pure Thought Yields Composure
An old Daoist priest and a young one walked along the shore of a great marsh in the Central Continent. The autumn wind was bleak and desolate. The old Daoist told his disciple that they were going to visit an old friend.
The young disciple didn't ask who it was, or what cultivation level they had, because there was no need.
Back on that island isolated overseas, they had been turned away by a scholar.
The young Daoist had gained some new insights into his master's cultivation. Especially after learning that the scholar was no land immortal, and certainly not in the Jade Purity realm, Immortal realm, or Ascension realm. The young Daoist had initially wanted to console his master, but when he saw the old man's utterly carefree demeanor, he abandoned the idea. It was for the better—if his master wasn't skilled at slaying demons and monsters, then it was only reasonable that his disciple's Daoist arts were also utterly rotten, right?
Later, the master took the disciple to the Central Continent and visited the Dragon Tiger Mountain, the headquarters of their sect. Zhang Shanfeng was left at the foot of the mountain. The young Daoist felt some regret, but figured his master's face wasn't big enough to bring someone along on the climb, so he said nothing. The master only said that this climb was to ask a favor of those yellow-and-purple nobles. If it worked out, Zhang Shanfeng could climb the mountain. So Zhang Shanfeng told his master to put some effort into it, speak properly with those nobles, and not be as careless as he was on their home mountain. After all, whether he could visit the Heavenly Master Mansion depended entirely on his master.
The old Daoist said, "Master's handling of matters—what is there to worry about?"
The young Daoist gave him a mournful look. He had cultivated on Crouching Ground Peak for so many years—what had his master ever actually accomplished? Occasionally, Daoists from other branches would come looking for the old man to discuss matters, but he'd either be snoring away in sleep, or he'd have the disciple and a few older senior brothers help him make excuses. Over time, when the Daoists from the Great Cloud, White Cloud, and Pointing to Mystery branches saw the disciple's face, they would sigh and turn around without hesitation before even discussing anything. While it was natural for a disciple to relieve his master's worries, having to block disasters for his master every single time was going too far, wasn't it?
The old Daoist descended the mountain not long after climbing it, saying things hadn't worked out. It seemed his disciple wouldn't get to visit the Heavenly Master Mansion and broaden his horizons after all.
The young Daoist said it didn't matter and instead comforted the old Daoist with a few words.
The old Daoist was moved to tears, sighing with deep emotion. "Shanfeng, a disciple like you is truly a master's little padded jacket."
The young Daoist looked up at Dragon Tiger Mountain in the distance. It was shrouded in immortal mist, with immortal cranes crying loudly, and precious light emanating richly. He felt some disappointment, but it wasn't disappointment in his master—it was in himself. Back then, following his master's instructions to leave the mountain and not wander around near their home peak, Zhang Shanfeng had boarded a ferry and gone to a distant place. After some traveling, he returned utterly dejected, unwilling to go back to his sect. Gritting his teeth, he spent almost all his immortal money to take a Da Jiao Mountain ferry directly across continents to Vial Continent. There he met a friend, and later another. The three of them parted, met again, and parted once more.
After that experience, some things became very clear to the young Daoist.
That was why he felt more and more grateful toward his master.
The old Daoist stopped at a certain spot by the great marsh. "Wait a moment," he said.
Zhang Shanfeng, carrying a bamboo chest on his back, stood to the side and asked softly, "Master, we're visiting someone's home—didn't bring a gift?"
The old true man, whose Daoist robe was embroidered with two fire dragons, frowned unhappily. "Was in a hurry to get here. Forgot."
Zhang Shanfeng sighed. "Even if it's just a gift worth a few Snow Flower coins, the thought counts. Master, are we being too careless? Next time you visit a friend, tell me in advance and I'll prepare the gift."
The old true man thought it over, then nodded in agreement. He held back from telling his disciple the truth: if they brought gifts to the door, the great marsh water god might mistake the gesture for offering gifts before attacking, or think they wanted to skin and flay him, and his knees would probably go weak. This great marsh water god, though ranked first among the water god temples of the third-largest dynasty in the Haoran World, had never really known how to be a person... or how to be a deity. He had a bad temper, so the old true man had used his divine power to set the great marsh ablaze. After the water level dropped by over ten feet, the fellow finally fell to his knees, kowtowing and begging for mercy.
Now, having cast an illusion technique, the old true man let a trace of his aura leak out.
Soon, a golden-robed old man parted the waters and came ashore. After stepping onto land, he didn't speak. He didn't dare. His heart was pounding, trembling with fear, and he forced his expression stiffly, afraid that if he couldn't hold back, he'd kneel down, cry pitifully, and spout some nauseating flattery, which might instead displease the old immortal and bring disaster. For a water god of his rank and cultivation, considered a tough nut in both this great dynasty and the mountain and rivers realms, he had fought life-and-death battles with several powerful traveling cultivators. Only Fire Dragon True Man was an exception.
Ordinary powerful cultivators could at most crack his golden body with techniques and treasures, seriously injuring his vital energy, and he could recover by using incense offerings and water fortune to repair the golden body.
But this Fire Dragon True Man could shatter his golden body into powder, and he would have no power to resist.
As for why Fire Dragon True Man could freely strike against a mountain-and-river deity while the Central Continent Academy imposed so few restrictions on the old immortal—that was somewhat strange.
The young Daoist took a look at the man who seemed like a reclusive master who had built a hut to cultivate here. Seeing his stiff expression and cold, silent demeanor, the young Daoist felt a bit sorry for his master. Look at this—was there any festive atmosphere of an old friend's reunion? Could it be that his master had lost face at Dragon Tiger Mountain and wanted to find some weak connection here in Mirage Marsh, just to show off his wide circle of friends in the Central Continent? In truth, Master, you really didn't need to do this. The young Daoist even felt some heartache for his master.
Zhang Shanfeng coughed. "Master?"
Fire Dragon True Man, who had been wandering in spirit thousands of miles away, said, "Oh." He smiled. "Long time no see."
The golden-robed old man swallowed his saliva and forced a smile. "It has been a long time."
Fire Dragon True Man couldn't be bothered with pleasantries. "I'm asking for a bottle of water pills."
The golden-robed old man almost burst into tears on the spot.
A bottle of Mirage Marsh Water God Palace's life-or-death water pills? This was such a trivial matter that a messenger could have conveyed the request. Why did the old true man need to come personally? Walking these extra miles on rustic paths—wasn't that wasting the old immortal's cultivation time? Did the old immortal know that his mere appearance here had almost scared this minor god out of his wits?
The golden-robed old man felt as if he had narrowly escaped death. He would hold a banquet in the Water God Palace when he returned. For the past thousand years, he had been anxious, always afraid that the next time he saw Fire Dragon True Man, he'd either die or lose a layer of skin. Who would have thought that a bottle of water pills would settle it? Of course, "just a bottle of water pills" only applied to an Ascension realm peak old immortal like Fire Dragon True Man. Even ordinary Immortal realm cultivators who excelled in fire techniques wouldn't dare make such a request. He, as a high-ranking Central Continent water god, could at least escape if he couldn't win—he'd hide in the water, and what could they do? If someone bullied him, causing a big commotion, the dynasty and the academy wouldn't stand idly by.
So the golden-robed old man immediately produced a porcelain bottle in his hand and asked cautiously, "Is one bottle enough?"
Fire Dragon True Man smiled. "What do you think?"
Without a second word, the golden-robed old man prepared to take out another portion of water pills, condensed from the essence of Mirage Marsh water fortune.
In truth, Fire Dragon True Man only needed one bottle, but he suddenly remembered that someone from the White Cloud branch on his mountain might need this to break through a realm, so he didn't refuse.
Zhang Shanfeng gently tugged at his master's sleeve.
Fire Dragon True Man laughed. "That friend of yours gave you such a generous gift, and he's sincere in his dealings with you. Your master did give him something back then, but in terms of seniority, it wasn't quite enough. So I plan to give him an extra bottle of water pills. It's both to help you repay a favor and to cut some karmic ties. The other bottle is for your senior brother from the White Cloud branch."
Zhang Shanfeng didn't quite understand about the "gift back then" and "karmic ties."
But just thinking that Chen Ping'an could get an extra bottle of water pills was ultimately a huge blessing.
Fire Dragon True Man didn't mind his disciple walking the same Great Path alongside that young man for a long time, but some trivial karmic ties still needed to be sorted out.
Fire Dragon True Man took the two bottles of water pills. At the same time, he quietly left a fire dragon as slender as a silk thread in the Mirage Marsh water god's palm, to help refine the deity's golden body.
When receiving a favor, one must reciprocate.
Moreover, regarding Chen Ping'an, Fire Dragon True Man hadn't wanted to force his growth back then. In truth, his disciple Zhang Shanfeng—or rather, he himself—owed the young man two debts.
First, there was the seal personally carved by the previous Great Heavenly Master. It wasn't a valuable item, but for Zhang Shanfeng, its significance was profound. This was a Daoist destiny.
For a Daoist, the heavens and earth were vast, but Daoist destiny was the greatest, with treasures and divine weapons taking second place.
Second, there was the sword. But that was a different matter of Daoist destiny altogether.
This was also an important reason why Fire Dragon True Man, after his "request" came to nothing, chose not to lose his temper at the Heavenly Master Mansion.
This time, following the agreement to climb the mountain, Fire Dragon True Man had hoped that the current Great Heavenly Master of the Heavenly Master Mansion would agree to let Zhang Shanfeng inherit the position of "hereditary and perpetual" non-clan Great Heavenly Master.
But the Heavenly Master Mansion acknowledged that Zhang Shanfeng had a promising future on the Great Path. However, they felt that with the signs of chaotic times already evident, distant water couldn't quench a nearby thirst. They judged that Zhang Shanfeng would definitely not become the backbone of Dragon Tiger Mountain within a hundred years. Moreover, in the past millennium, the Heavenly Master Mansion had found two other candidates for non-clan Great Heavenly Master. So they didn't accept Fire Dragon True Man's proposal. Thus, once Fire Dragon True Man truly ascended in Northern Jambu Continent, the Central Continent Dragon Tiger Mountain would immediately promote one of those non-clan Great Heavenly Masters. Though far inferior to Fire Dragon True Man, compared to Zhang Shanfeng, the difference was naturally like heaven and earth.
At that time, in the Heavenly Master Mansion's ancestral hall, aside from the composed Great Heavenly Master, almost all the other yellow-and-purple nobles were disturbed in their Daoist hearts, inevitably feeling terrified.
They were afraid that Fire Dragon True Man would attack at the first disagreement.
Fortunately, the old true man merely descended the mountain in silence, taking his disciple Zhang Shanfeng away from Dragon Tiger Mountain's territory.
By the great marsh, the golden-robed old man was ecstatic. He was about to kowtow in thanks, but Fire Dragon True Man signaled with his eyes not to do anything so rash.
The golden-robed old man quickly steadied his mind.
Zhang Shanfeng took the two bottles of water pills from Fire Dragon True Man, tucked them into his sleeve, and beamed with joy.
Finally, he could do something for Chen Ping'an, right? Back then, he had freeloaded meals all the way, not to mention owing Chen Ping'an many debts. In the haunted house of Colorful Clothes Country, he had bought the Sweet Dew Armor on credit. At the ferry of Comb Water Country, he had bought the sword on credit too. Later, when he and Xu Yuanxia were trapped in a siege in Green Phoenix Country, wasn't it Chen Ping'an who came to rescue them?
Fire Dragon True Man glanced at the golden-robed old man. The latter immediately understood and gritted his teeth, pulling out the last bottle of water pills he carried on him, and gave it to the young Daoist.
A cultivator in the lower five realms?
Was this truly the proud disciple of Fire Dragon True Man from Crouching Ground Peak? Although Fire Dragon True Man was eccentric and never chose disciples based on talent, since the old immortal was willing to travel the Central Continent with one disciple, how could that disciple be simple?
The young Daoist felt a bit embarrassed. He wanted the bottle of water pills but felt it was inappropriate, so he declined politely.
The golden-robed old man lied shamelessly, saying that these water pills were the least valuable thing in his home, and since it was their first meeting and he was a few years older, it was only proper to give a gift.
He didn't even dare to say he was a "senior" by a few years—if he became the young Daoist's senior, wouldn't that put him on the same generation as Fire Dragon True Man?
Zhang Shanfeng had actually decided not to accept it, but Fire Dragon True Man urged him to take it, saying that when he had the chance to travel the Central Continent alone later, he could return the favor.
Upon hearing the words "return the favor," the golden-robed water god felt his scalp tingle with terror.
He had guessed that Fire Dragon True Man had some connection to Dragon Tiger Mountain. After Fire Dragon True Man had boiled the great marsh a thousand years ago and returned to Northern Jambu Continent, yellow-and-purple nobles from the Heavenly Master Mansion would often descend the mountain to travel, making special pilgrimages to view the battlefield.
Only then did Zhang Shanfeng accept the third bottle of water pills. He made a Daoist salute to thank him.
The golden-robed old man didn't dare linger. He took his leave.
He had to quickly use the fire dragon gifted by the old immortal to refine his golden body. But before that, of course, he needed to send orders for all lake and marsh spirits within his domain to immediately return to their lairs. Anyone who couldn't control their legs would find themselves unable to control their heads.
Fire Dragon True Man led Zhang Shanfeng to continue traveling on foot.
Fire Dragon True Man had some harsh words that he didn't say to his disciple.
Chen Ping'an had deep karmic entanglements with Northern Jambu Continent, which could easily drag this disciple into it.
He believed that given that young man's temperament, even if trapped in a desperate situation, he wouldn't actively drag Zhang Shanfeng into it. But worldly affairs were tangled like a ball of hemp. Even if Chen Ping'an did that, his disciple would have his own convictions and would certainly throw himself in without hesitation.
At that time, would he, as the master, do as he did back then—allow the sword immortals of Northern Jambu Continent to go to sea together, blocking that wave of Daoists from Dragon Tiger Mountain's Heavenly Master Mansion? Or would he break the rules and go down the mountain to pull his disciple and that young man out?
He had to admit that many of the fundamental Daoist principles championed by Lu Chen seemed utterly absurd at first glance and sounded jarring at first hearing. But after a thousand years of deliberation, they became ultimate truths.
In mountain cultivation, every person cultivates themselves, treading on emptiness like an empty boat—either ascending or reincarnating. Naturally, the mountains remain pure and the world peaceful.
Once mountain cultivators use their personal preferences to decide the fate of the mundane world, and the various schools of philosophy get dragged in and tangled up, the mess becomes even worse.
Everyone speaks of reason, yet no one speaks of reason.
Fire Dragon True Man had, through a chain of circumstances, gone to the Green Curtain World in his early years.
He saw both the good and bad of the Daoist world's lack of entanglements, and the good and bad of the Confucian world's human relationships woven into a net.
Indeed, the Green Curtain World's Daoist sect, with the White Jade Capital as its center, resisted the illusory heavenly demons from beyond. The Haoran World used the Sword Qi Great Wall and Hanging Mountain to resist the Barbaric Wild World. There was great reasoning behind this.
The young Daoist suddenly smiled. "Master, now that I've traveled through the Central Continent, I'm like Chen Ping'an—someone who has walked through three continents."
Fire Dragon True Man smiled and nodded. "Both are very impressive."
Zhang Shanfeng asked, "Are the qi refiners of Vial Continent's younger generation somewhat inferior to those on our continent?"
Fire Dragon True Man replied, "The big years of the two continents are only separated by sixty years. When people look again later, they might find that the young people of Vial Continent are becoming more and more prominent. But that said, a continent's fortune is fixed, though the amount of spiritual energy isn't. The larger the continent, the more exaggerated the number of young geniuses during a big year. So for Vial Continent to earn the respect of the other eight continents, it still needs a bit of luck. As things stand now, an old friend of mine, now named Li Liu, will certainly stand out—no one can stop that. Ma Kuxuan is also someone uniquely gifted, just a bit behind in time, and the woman he serves is no exception. For these three people, relatively speaking, there are the fewest surprises, which is why I singled them out. But few surprises doesn't mean no surprises."
Zhang Shanfeng smiled. "Chen Ping'an will definitely stand out too, right?"
Fire Dragon True Man nodded. "He should count as one. But his final height is still hard to say. There are too many variables."
Zhang Shanfeng said, "Master, I have good judgment, don't I? The first friend I made in Vial Continent was Chen Ping'an."
Fire Dragon True Man said, "I think Chen Ping'an's judgment is also good."
Zhang Shanfeng thought for a moment. "Chen Ping'an's judgment in making friends isn't bad. But my master's judgment in taking disciples is probably neither good nor bad. Some senior brothers and sisters who left Crouching Ground Peak are still very impressive."
Fire Dragon True Man was silent for a moment, then smiled. "Shanfeng, remember one thing."
Zhang Shanfeng asked curiously, "What is it, Master?"
The old true man said with emotion, "In the future, you will also take disciples and teach them Daoist arts. Remember this: don't think that just because someone can definitely reach the mountaintop, you should favor them excessively. Rather, it's the good qualities in these disciples—perhaps the master himself isn't as good—that make them destined to have more opportunities to climb the mountain. So you can like them a bit more. Don't get the order wrong. Talent is never absolute. All things grow in myriad forms, and there is no single unique scenery. Many founder patriarchs of clan-head immortal families cultivate until their brains rust, unable to grasp this small matter, which is why their mountains have no trace of humanity."
The old true man turned his head and saw his disciple holding back laughter. "What's wrong?"
Zhang Shanfeng laughed. "Master, with my meager Daoist skills, how can I take disciples? I'd be misleading them."
The old true man smiled. "Take it slow. No rush."
So-called Daoist heritage, passing the torch—perhaps it was never a grand affair. It was just someone lighting a small flame first. Though its light was faint, it could light another flame for those behind on the dark road.
Otherwise, the world would forever be pitch black.
The Dao gives birth to one.
One gives birth to two, two give birth to three, three give birth to all things.
"Shanfeng, would you like to ride a Qiong Yao Sect immortal ferry? Travel south across continents to Southern Pat Continent. The scenery along the way is quite good."
"Master, we shouldn't puff ourselves up to look impressive, should we?"
"But an old friend over there has invited me as a guest. Hard to refuse such hospitality."
"Then I think this friend of yours probably doesn't have a very close relationship with you, Master. Otherwise, wouldn't he know about your financial difficulties?"
"Shanfeng, if it comes to that, I'll have to let you suffer a bit. Your master's skill at slaying demons is indeed a bit lacking, but my earth-shrinking technique, which is barely passable—you've experienced it."
"Then let's take the cross-continent ferry instead. Money is an external possession. Before boarding, I'll prepare more dry rations and pickled vegetables."
"How did I end up with such a sharp disciple?"
"Your judgment is good?"
"Makes sense."
"Master, this time as a guest, we must prepare gifts, right? When traveling, it's not like cultivating on our home mountain. We should still observe proper etiquette."
"He's a scholar. We'll just buy a few books from a roadside stall. Easy to deal with."
"Another scholar? I hope we don't get turned away again."
"Shanfeng, your master has to tell you the truth. My Daoist arts and reputation do carry some weight outside our home mountain."
"Then why didn't that earlier senior invite us to his residence? Even offering us a cup of tea would have been fine. I always felt that senior was very polite, even though he clearly didn't want to see us. He still observed proper etiquette. I'm no stranger to such scenes. Back when I left Crouching Ground Peak and traveled below, I'd approach wealthy households with lingering baleful aura, wanting to help. They wouldn't drive me away, just toss me a handful of copper coins or a few bits of silver. I understood their meaning."
"I see."
"Master, in the future, don't always sleep on the mountain. Come down and walk around more. This crude worldly wisdom, I learned it through experience."
"Shanfeng, last time you went down the mountain, did you meet an old man halfway? I heard you had a pleasant conversation?"
"Yes, that old senior said he was an acquaintance of my master's. He came to climb the mountain seeking the Dao, so I pointed him in the right direction and chatted for a while. After we finished, the old senior seemed quite happy."
Fire Dragon True Man nodded and said nothing more.
A twelfth-realm sword immortal left Crouching Ground Peak and spread news like a gossiping market woman—of course he was happy!
When he returned to Northern Jambu Continent, he would visit that fellow's sect and make him even happier. Give him a full belly.
But Fire Dragon True Man felt some sadness. No matter how high one's cultivation, there was still the sorrow of parting in the human world.
He might not be able to return.
A broken sword could return, but a person might not.
Beyond Hanging Mountain, by the Sword Qi Great Wall.
Sword qi shot into the sky.
In the Haoran World, roosters crowed, dogs barked, cooking smoke curled upward, and ten thousand household lights shone.
Three continents might all lose this in an instant.
Finally, Zhang Shanfeng said without any particular reason, "Master, although your Daoist arts aren't high, I think you are the best master under heaven."
The old true man smiled. "That's right. Master's judgment in choosing disciples and the disciple's judgment in seeing his master—both are good."
Zhang Shanfeng casually said, "Master, does that mean when I have your level of Daoist arts, I'll have achieved minor success in cultivation?"
The old true man laughed heartily. "That counts."
All the Daoist arts in the world, originating from one person?
After a moment of silence, the old true man smiled and said softly, "Blessings measureless, Heavenly Worthy."
---
Earlier, at the beginning of summer.
At the shop in Dragon Riding Alley, only Shi Rou was left to mind the business.
Pei Qian had already left the school, and Zhu Lian had agreed, so Shi Rou said nothing.
Once Pei Qian left, Zhou Mili followed her to Forlorn Mountain.
From bustling liveliness, it suddenly became cold and quiet. Shi Rou found it hard to adjust.
Wei Bo often secretly came to Forlorn Mountain during this time. Zheng Dafeng also frequently left the grand mansion he had overseen the construction of at the mountain's foot to come see Zhu Lian.
The Lotus Flower Blessed Land had been divided into four parts, and Forlorn Mountain had obtained one.
It was certainly a good thing, but it also brought trouble: any blessed land that wanted to maintain the stability of its heaven and earth needed to "eat money"—vast amounts of immortal money.
Especially for a lower-grade blessed land with poor spiritual energy wanting to upgrade to a medium-grade blessed land where local people could cultivate—it required the person in charge to continuously consume immortal money. Simply put, it was a bottomless pit. But if managed properly, like the Cloud Cave Blessed Land controlled by the Jiang clan of the Jade Gui Sect in Tongye Continent, which initially allowed the blessed land to devour immortal money freely and eventually upgraded to a high-grade blessed land, forming a relatively stable pattern—then various deities that helped stabilize the mountain-and-river spiritual energy could appear, as well as cultivation sects that gathered spiritual energy to major immortal mountains. This didn't drain the Jiang clan's wealth but instead brought a steady stream of income that eventually nourished the Jiang clan back.
Local cultivators in the blessed land, as well as various heavenly treasures gradually born from the spiritual energy—these were all sources of wealth.
Recently, Wei Bo, Zhu Lian, and Zheng Dafeng had been discussing how to manage this small territory temporarily named the "Lotus Root Blessed Land." The true naming would have to wait until Chen Ping'an returned.
Currently, the territory of this small blessed land corresponded to the map of the South Garden Kingdom from the former Lotus Flower Blessed Land.
The total population was twenty million.
When Lotus Root Blessed Land was acquired by Forlorn Mountain, it already had considerable spiritual energy, between lower and medium grade. This meant that all living beings in the South Garden Kingdom—whether humans or wood-and-grass spirits—had hope of cultivating.
But the crux of the problem was that until it became a medium-grade blessed land, even if the South Garden Kingdom's emperor and court officially enshrined mountain-and-river deities, they couldn't retain the spiritual energy. The energy would dissipate without a trace. Even a great mountain god like Wei Bo couldn't find any clues to where the spiritual energy was going, let alone prevent its slow leakage. So the urgent task was how to spend money to upgrade Lotus Root Blessed Land to a medium-grade one. But spending money—how to spend, where to spend—was a great art. It wasn't just throwing down piles of immortal money. If done well, one Grain Rain coin might retain the spiritual energy of nine Minor Heat coins. If done poorly, retaining the equivalent of four or five Minor Heat coins would be good luck.
Normally it was fine, but when faced with such matters, Forlorn Mountain's insufficient wealth suddenly became glaringly apparent. It was even more noticeable than when they had built the mountain's great protective formation, where they had been stretched thin everywhere.
Before deciding how to spend lavishly, there was the problem of how to borrow money, from whom, and how much.
After those two problems were settled came the details: signing contracts with the South Garden Kingdom's emperor and Zhong Qiu, then secretly placing immortal artifacts and treasures, distributing cultivation manuals, and a series of other trivial matters. Then came teaching the South Garden Kingdom court the complete set of rituals and protocols for enshrining mountain-and-river deities, and determining how Forlorn Mountain would profit from Lotus Root Blessed Land without exhausting its resources, while also giving it a chance to eventually become a high-grade blessed land, producing a crop of earth immortal cultivators that Forlorn Mountain could recruit in the future.
This required Forlorn Mountain to reluctantly assume the role of "Heavenly Lord," establishing meticulous rules for Lotus Root Blessed Land.
Zhu Lian, Zheng Dafeng, and Wei Bo each produced a detailed proposal, then checked each other's work for omissions and errors.
After that, Zhu Lian took the rare initiative to send a letter to Lu Baixiang, telling him that while building his faction, he could start accumulating immortal money.
As for the letter to Wei Xian, it only needed to be sent to Cui Dongshan. In the end, everything went to Cui Dongshan anyway. Since he was the young master's disciple and student, there was no need to be polite.
For the letter to Sui Youbian of the Jade Gui Sect, they used a cross-continent flying sword that cost a heavy sum. Zhu Lian couldn't help but curse.
He told Sui Youbian to not neglect her own cultivation, but also to have some conscience and occasionally snatch a few treasures and send them back to her "mother's home."
Wei Bo approached it like a businessman. He was willing to borrow money from various forces in the Great Li dynasty that he was relatively familiar with, but in return, Lotus Root Blessed Land would give him a share of the profits after upgrading to medium grade—similar to the revenue-sharing arrangement with the Bull Horn Mountain ferry.
Zhu Lian then turned ruthless, insisting on one thing: Wei Bo had to contribute enough Grain Rain coins, but he could only get a 10% share of Lotus Root Blessed Land's profits, not the 20% that Wei Bo himself proposed. Not only that, Zhu Lian wanted to add a time limit of a thousand years. After that, if Wei Bo still wanted a share, he would have to pay additional Grain Rain coins, with the specific amount negotiable at that time.
Zheng Dafeng, of course, sided with Zhu Lian.
Wei Bo, while frantically borrowing money through his secret channels, slowly wore down these two.
Wei Bo's actions—neither Zhu Lian nor Zheng Dafeng said anything. Wei Bo knew how to handle things.
As for the various possibilities once Cui Dongshan received the secret letter, all three were of one mind: no matter how much immortal money that guy was willing to fork over, they would absolutely not let him get involved in profit-sharing. Even if Cui Dongshan dealt with Forlorn Mountain in the name of lending money, that was fine.
On this day, the three met again, sitting in Zhu Lian's small courtyard. Wei Bo sighed and said slowly, "The result is calculated: at least two thousand Grain Rain coins, at most three thousand, to barely upgrade to medium-grade blessed land. The longer we delay, the more it costs."
Zhu Lian said, "Haven't received replies from the Fan and Sun families of Old Dragon City yet."
According to the trio's agreed conclusion, if those two families were willing to lend money to Forlorn Mountain, it would be best to add interest, and Forlorn Mountain would repay them as agreed. But if both families were willing to contribute a large sum of Grain Rain coins, they could jointly share a 10% share of the blessed land's profits, or Forlorn Mountain could slowly repay with a 5% share plus half of the principal without interest. However, they also prepared for the worst: that both families would find the returns too small or too slow and decline Forlorn Mountain.
Ruan Qiong had already returned to Dragon Spring County from a new mountain range of Great Li, but as for their neighbor Dragon Spring Sword Sect, the three didn't even consider approaching them. The two sides weren't suitable for deep entanglement. Chen Ping'an was ultimately the true master of Forlorn Mountain, and any planning needed to consider his situation first.
Zheng Dafeng laughed. "Why not have Wei Bo hold another night travel banquet? A mosquito's leg is still meat. A few days later, when he breaks through to Jade Purity realm, hold another one. That's two mosquito legs."
Wei Bo said helplessly, "Being this shameless—isn't that inappropriate?"
Zheng Dafeng turned to Zhu Lian and smiled. "What do you think?"
Zhu Lian said seriously, "I think it's quite appropriate."
Wei Bo smiled. "Alright, I'll hold another one and collect another batch of immortal money and various artifacts."
Zheng Dafeng said, "But when Bull Horn Mountain reopens its shop later, selling those mountain-visiting gifts at high prices before they've even warmed up in our hands—that would truly be shameless."
Zhu Lian chuckled. "I'll be the one selling them. I'll be the shopkeeper. Wei Bo doesn't have to show his face. What's there to fear? We can have Cloaked Cloud Mountain spread the word that Mountain God Wei's home was burglarized and cleaned out."
Wei Bo rubbed his forehead. "Let the shop open before the night travel banquet. Since we're already shameless, let them know I'm short on money."
Zheng Dafeng clicked his tongue. "Kill two birds with one stone. Make them think you need immortal money to increase your chances of breaking through. This second night travel banquet will be held with great significance. The mountain-visiting gifts might not be much less than the first time."
Zhu Lian and Zheng Dafeng exchanged smiles.
Then the three began to deliberate on the details of upgrading to medium-grade blessed land.
Zhu Lian had entered the Lotus Flower Blessed Land's South Garden Kingdom with Pei Qian once before, and later went alone again. Opening and closing the blessed land wasn't a casual matter—it caused massive spiritual energy loss, easily damaging Lotus Root Blessed Land. So each entry into the new blessed land required extreme caution. Zhu Lian had gone to see State Preceptor Zhong Qiu, and through Zhong Qiu's introduction, had met the South Garden Kingdom's emperor. The talks were neither pleasant nor completely deadlocked. Eventually, Zhong Qiu made a pointed remark, seemingly asking about Zhu Lian's identity—whether he was the legendary noble scion Zhu Lian. Zhu Lian neither confirmed nor denied it, and the South Garden Kingdom emperor's expression and gaze immediately changed, reducing some of his hesitation.
Zhu Lian was now a "banished immortal," so the South Garden Kingdom emperor was naturally wary.
But if this banished immortal who had descended from heaven was actually Zhu Lian, then the emperor's wariness would turn to pure fear.
It was simple: in history, which mad martial artist had single-handedly killed nine people, slaughtering almost all the other nine great masters, with the battlefield right in the South Garden Kingdom's capital?
Who wouldn't be afraid to do business with such a person?
In the end, Zhu Lian casually said to the South Garden Kingdom emperor, "The heavens are vast. The longevity methods outside are nothing your Lotus Flower Blessed Land can compare with. All those emperors who tried alchemy and immortality-seeking died only because they lacked the proper method."
And so the emperor's gaze shifted from fear to burning desire.
Although State Preceptor Zhong Qiu was deeply worried, he said nothing at the time.
After the three in the courtyard had finished discussing this major matter, there was another major matter.
Pei Qian's martial arts training.
Screaming and wailing.
From the second floor, it was like this almost every day.
Wei Bo was worried that Pei Qian's character might change drastically. When Chen Ping'an returned to Forlorn Mountain, who would take responsibility?
Zheng Dafeng said he was just a gatekeeper at the mountain's foot, so it would be Zhu Lian the steward. Zhu Lian said he couldn't handle it, so it would have to be Senior Cui Cheng in the bamboo building. Wei Bo was left speechless.
Wei Bo hesitated for a long time before saying, "If Chen Ping'an really gets angry, I'll just hide in Cloaked Cloud Mountain. Where will you two run?"
Zheng Dafeng glanced at Zhu Lian. "At least I'm farther from the bamboo building."
Zhu Lian smiled slightly. "Enough. There won't be major problems. If there are, it'll be something no one can stop. Perhaps it would be better if my young master were on the mountain. Since he isn't, and it's unavoidable, we can only wait and see."
Wei Bo, with a headache, left.
Zheng Dafeng thought for a moment, then went down the mountain to the small town.
He went to Yang's shop. Not to borrow money, but to ask about the details of managing a blessed land.
The old man, puffing smoke, didn't answer those trivial questions. Instead, he sneered, "Really treating Forlorn Mountain as your own home?"
The hunchbacked man smiled. "I think it's fine."
Old Man Yang said, "For these minor matters, send a letter to Lion Peak in Northern Jambu Continent. Li Liu will tell you."
Zheng Dafeng nodded.
He asked, "Can I use that catty of True Qi Talisman on someone else?"
Old Man Yang said, "Up to you."
Zheng Dafeng rose and left.
In the front shop, the stooped man leaned on the counter and exchanged a few frivolous words with his junior sister, making the junior brother so upset he wanted to hit him.
Over at Forlorn Mountain.
One day at dawn, the dark-skinned girl who should have been heading to the second floor of the bamboo building ran all the way to the foot of Forlorn Mountain, sat on the steps, and secretly wiped away tears.
If she took one more step, she would be leaving Forlorn Mountain.
So she sat there in a daze.
And she knew that if she was late to the bamboo building, she would only suffer more.
When she slowly rose to climb the mountain again, she found the old cook sitting on the steps behind her.
Pei Qian, holding her mountain-walking staff, shouted angrily, "Old Cook, are you afraid I'll secretly run back to the Dragon Riding Alley shop? Am I that kind of coward?!"
Zhu Lian shook his head. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you running back to Dragon Riding Alley."
Pei Qian plopped back down in her spot, laid her staff across her lap, and crossed her arms, fuming.
Zhu Lian sat on a step behind her and smiled. "If you're worried about disappointing the young master, there's no need. Your master won't give up on you just because you've practiced half your fist techniques halfway, won't be disappointed in you, and certainly won't be angry. Trust me, I'm not lying. Only if you slack off and neglect your copying homework will he be disappointed."
Pei Qian's tears immediately welled up.
Every time Chen Ruchu carried her out of the bamboo building and she woke up from the medicinal bath, she desperately wanted to copy books, but her soul trembled, her body trembled—how could she keep her hands from trembling?
During this time, no matter how hard she gritted her teeth, no matter how many methods she tried—binding her hand to the brush, for example—she still couldn't write a single character properly. She had accumulated a lot of debt.
Zhu Lian said to that slender back, "But slacking off comes in two forms. Mental laxity is more frightening. If after your fist practice you one day make up for your debts, that won't count as true slacking. Instead, your master will think you did the right thing, because he's always believed that everyone has things they can't do well. Being temporarily unable despite wanting to—that's not a fault. Having the ability later and still making it up—that's rare."
Pei Qian wiped her face, silently rose, and ran up the mountain.
Zhu Lian sat there, turning to watch.
---
One day, Zhu Lian was cooking in the kitchen, more meticulous than usual. He had carefully prepared many seasonal dishes.
Because at the door stood a tottering dark-skinned girl, her arms hanging limply, her face pale. She had wobbled all the way there and said she was feeling a bit greedy today.
So Zhu Lian decided to reward this charcoal-like girl's five organs and six viscera.
Then Cen Yuanji came to report that a guest had arrived at Forlorn Mountain, from Old Dragon City, calling himself Sun Jiashu.
Zhu Lian, still wearing his apron, said, "Oh, let that Clan Head Sun wait. If he gets impatient, call out Wei Bo's name a few times and let that guy entertain him."
Pei Qian said, "Old Cook, you go handle the big matters. You've already cooked several dishes—enough to eat. Later I'll have Mi Li bring them to the table."
The little water spirit, who had been helping Pei Qian carry the mountain-walking staff in the courtyard, immediately straightened her back and announced loudly, "Temporary Right Protector of the Dragon Riding Alley New Year Shop, Zhou Mi Li, receiving orders!"
Pei Qian hummed in acknowledgment, turned her head, and said sternly, "If you perform well, when my master comes home, I'll put in a good word for you. There might even be a chance to promote you to Right Protector of Forlorn Mountain."
Zhou Mi Li puffed out her chest even more, grinning, but quickly closed her mouth.
In the kitchen, however, Zhu Lian didn't turn his head. "I think what I'm busy with right now is the big matter."
Pei Qian hesitated. "Old Cook, you should still go see that guy. You've cooked so many dishes—what if we can't finish them all?"
Zhou Mi Li was about to say something noble and righteous, but Pei Qian turned her head and glared, so Zhou Mi Li quickly said, "I'm not hungry today!"
Only then did Zhu Lian put down his spatula, untie his apron, and leave the kitchen and courtyard.
In the main room, Pei Qian told Zhou Mi Li to bring the dishes one by one to the main table. But Zhou Mi Li found it strange that Pei Qian also told her to set an extra bowl and chopsticks, placing them at the seat of honor facing the door.
Zhou Mi Li took a large bowl, filled it with rice, and sat on a bench with Pei Qian. Lately, Zhou Mi Li often needed to help Pei Qian by holding chopsticks to feed her. It had become a regular occurrence for her, the Right Protector, to make contributions. Pei Qian had said that everything Mi Li did would be recorded in the merit book, and when her master came home, that would be the time for rewards based on merit.
Every time Zhou Mi Li fed Pei Qian a mouthful of food, she would wolf down some herself. Then, looking up, she saw Pei Qian staring at the empty seat where the bowl and chopsticks sat quietly. Then Pei Qian withdrew her gaze, seeming a bit happy, shaking her head and shoulders as she told Zhou Mi Li to get her another small bowl of rice. She wanted to eat more today, so that tomorrow she could take a few more punches.
Zhou Mi Li got up, scampered over with the empty bowl to the rice bucket on a small stool, and filled it.
With her back to Pei Qian, the little water spirit secretly wiped her face and sniffled. She wasn't truly stupid; she knew that every mouthful Pei Qian ate nowadays hurt all over.
That day was the fifth day of the fifth month.
---
Cultivators of the Dao should enter famous mountains.
In the deep mountains of the Lotus Country, Chen Ping'an encountered a scholar and his young page. They were ordinary mortals. The scholar had failed the imperial examinations and had read some strange tales and scholar's notes. He had heard that enlightened masters all dwelt in remote and hidden forests, and had set his heart on finding one or two, to see if he could learn some immortal techniques. He thought this might be easier than getting on the golden list and returning home in glory. So he diligently searched for ancient temples, Daoist abbeys, and old country dwellers, suffering a great deal along the way. When Chen Ping'an saw them on a wild mountain path, the young scholar and his boy page were already sallow and thin, famished. Under the scorching sun, the boy was laboriously trying to catch fish in a stream, while the young scholar was cooling off in the shade of a tree, asking every now and then if he'd caught any. The boy was miserable and sullen, only saying he hadn't. Chen Ping'an was lying on a branch of an old pine tree, resting with his eyes closed, simultaneously practicing the Sword Furnace Standing Pillow and the Thousand Autumn Sleeping Pillow. Finally, the boy managed to catch a prickly fish, overjoyed. He gripped the fish with both hands and shouted happily that it was a big one, gleefully seeking praise from his young master. But his hands were suddenly stabbed with a sharp pain, and the fish got away. The young scholar threw down a wild banana leaf he'd been using as a fan, intending to look at the "big fish." The boy sat down in the stream and burst into loud wails. The young scholar sighed and said, "Don't worry, don't worry. 'If I get it, it's my fortune; if I lose it, it's my fate.'" The boy, upon hearing this, cried even harder. The young scholar was worried, squatting by the stream and scratching his head.
So Chen Ping'an took out his bamboo chest and put it on his back, holding a new green bamboo mountain-walking staff as he drifted down onto the path, walking slowly. By "coincidence" encountering the scholars and the boy, he took off his bamboo chest, rolled up his pant legs and sleeves, and without saying much, went down into the stream. He picked out a spot with many fish, began moving stones, building a small dam near the bank—one horizontal, one vertical, then another horizontal—and began fishing in his own small territory where the water was no more than a hand's depth. Soon, several prickly fish and other fish were tossed onto the bank. The boy's eyes lit up. According to his master's sayings, in the martial world, this was like being "infused" by a senior martial arts expert with sixty years of cultivation, and in the mountains, it was like an immortal laying hands on him to bestow a longevity technique!
The boy forgot his stinging hands and copied the method, moving stones and scooping water, and indeed had some success. He caught some nameless wild stream fish, though nowhere near as impressive as the "senior's" catch, but more than enough for a meal for his master and himself. But then they realized their fire striker was exhausted—how were they to cook and burn the fish? The young scholar and the boy stared at each other wide-eyed. If their route was correct, they were still over a hundred miles from the nearest county town. They really hadn't seen cooking smoke in a long time. At the beginning of their journey, they had found the annoying crowing and barking of village houses irritating, but now they actually missed them.
Fortunately, the young man in blue, who didn't look at all like a villain, taught the boy another clever trick. He picked a few foxtail grasses, threaded the gutted and cleaned fish onto them, and casually laid them on a large rock by the stream to sun-dry. The boy, to hell with it, immediately copied the method, cleaning those stream fish—some as big as a palm, some as small as a finger—and pasting them one by one on the hot rocks by the stream.
The scholar introduced himself. He was from Deer Leek Commandery in the Lotus Country, surnamed Lu, given name Dun. He invited the young man in blue to rest in the shade with him. The boy page squatted to the side, watching the dozen or so fish lying on the rocks sunbathing, secretly delighted. The young man said his surname was Chen, from a small country in the south, traveling here. Lu Dun chatted with him, primarily hoping to travel with this Mr. Chen, who was carrying books while traveling, to his hometown in Deer Leek Commandery. Otherwise, he was already short on money and had five or six hundred miles left to travel—how would he manage? On the way home, there were two local aristocratic families with whom he had some hereditary friendship, and he could borrow some travel expenses. But he was too embarrassed to ask. Especially the closer family—someone of similar age had succeeded in the capital spring examinations and was on the apricot list. How could he visit them looking like a beggar? As for the other family, there lived a beautiful young woman he cherished in his heart—refined and quiet, a renowned beauty. He was even less willing to go.
Chen Ping'an took some dry rations from his bamboo chest and handed them to the master and servant.
The young scholar thanked him without ceremony and split them with the boy halfway.
The three ate the dry rations together.
Chen Ping'an mentioned that those sun-dried fish could be eaten directly and were quite filling.
The scholar and the boy suddenly understood.
The young scholar, being a reader of books, said he had once seen a similar account in a book called "Miscellaneous Accounts of the Western Frontier," which recorded that the scorching sun was formidable—if you stuck a dough cake on a brick wall, in a short while it would be cooked.
The boy page was very proud.
His master was indeed very learned.
Chen Ping'an patiently listened to the young scholar's explanation as he chewed slowly, also pondering some matters.
The set of twenty-four solar terms Grain Rain talismans bought at the Dragon Head Ferry in the Green Oriole Country—large quantity, but not expensive: twelve Snow Flower coins. What was expensive was the Grain Rain tablet, which cost forty-eight Snow Flower coins. Chen Ping'an had gone through great effort to haggle down two Snow Flower coins.
In the Jingnan Country, where cricket fighting was popular, he bought three woven bamboo cricket cages, intending to give them to Pei Qian and Zhou Mi Li, and of course not forgetting the pink-skirted girl Chen Ruchu.
From the Orchid Room Country, three small porcelain pots for planting miniature pines and orchids. The bonsai of Orchid Room Country was unmatched across a dozen or more countries. Again, one for each of the three, but he suspected that even if Pei Qian and Zhou Mi Li planted something, they would eventually let Chen Ruchu take care of it, losing patience with daily watering and moving.
From the Golden Door Country, an imperial incense burner from a former dynasty, and an exquisitely crafted hollow gold ball that nested, from large to small, nine in all.
Chen Ping'an ultimately didn't agree to travel with the scholar and boy.
But he gave them his fish and some fishhooks and fishing line. The two thanked him again and continued on their way.
Chen Ping'an sat by the mountain stream, beginning to breathe and meditate.
Through so many years of travel,
Chen Ping'an had met many people and admired many.
But one person, during the most difficult journey through Letter Bamboo Lake, seemed very insignificant—just a small passerby on the muddy road of the human world—yet had stayed fresh in Chen Ping'an's memory.
She was an old village woman with a hard life. At that time, Chen Ping'an was accompanying Zeng Ye and Ma Duyi to repay debts.
Near a village stream, Chen Ping'an had seen a stooped, impoverished old woman. Her clothes were clean, despite being patched, without any sense of decay.
The old woman had just returned from washing clothes by the stream, carrying a large bamboo basket, walking home. Then she saw the ghost of her dead grandson possessing Zeng Ye, running to her side and kowtowing desperately.
The old woman quickly set down the basket of clean clothes on the muddy ground, crouched down, and tried to lift up the unfamiliar boy she didn't recognize.
That scene.
Chen Ping'an would remember for a lifetime.
Indeed, to him, she was like another small, very warm flame in the pitch-black Letter Bamboo Lake.
On the old woman, Chen Ping'an felt the power of two words clearly for the first time.
Composure.
It was as if all the invisible rules and sufferings of the world had landed solidly on her, yet they were so insignificant.
The world had distinctions between mountains and valleys, rich and poor, but the weight of suffering might not have any difference in size. What fell on each person's head—someone might find a single harsh word as hard to bear as another might find a knife wound. It was difficult to explain with reasoning. It was all equally hard to bear.
Only the word "composure" remained unchanged through the ages.
Chen Ping'an suddenly opened his eyes, forcibly thrown out of the cultivator's internal vision method. His heart and mind were greatly stirred!
But it was by no means the chaotic signs of a martial artist going mad.
He felt his sleeves billowing, completely unable to suppress the fist intent within him.
His heart and abdomen both resonated like divine drums, shaking violently.
Chen Ping'an stood up, stumbled, and stepped into the stream. Gritting his teeth, he stood firm, one foot on the mountain, one in the water.
When the drum sounded, fire dragons swam through his qi mansions and apertures, like a series of spring thunders, naturally exploding within the small heaven and earth of his body.
When the drum ceased.
Chen Ping'an had gained a hero's courage.