Chapter 583: Come Here and Get Beaten

Chapter 583: Come Here and Get Beaten

The Ning Mansion, compared to before, actually had only one extra person, Chen Ping'an, and it wasn't much livelier.

The reason for the Ning Mansion's silence was too heavy.

Originally, after Ning Yao was born, the Ning Mansion had a chance to become a top-tier clan like the Dongs, Qis, or Chens, but now that was all gone, like passing clouds, yet lingering shadows refused to disperse.

On the other hand, at Diezhang's shop, because of the returning-home wine for Huang Tong, a Sword Immortal of the Taihui Sword Sect, the old Sword Immortal Dong Sangang took charge himself. A total of six Sword Immortals squeezed together at one table to drink, their presence a grand occasion. Additionally, three Sword Immortals carved words into the wu shi wooden plaques, causing the small tavern's business, which had just been on a decline, to become booming overnight. Sword cultivators squatting to drink were everywhere. At the same time, the shop introduced a specialty pickled vegetable exclusive to the Yan Ji shop; buy a pot of wine and get a free dish of pickles. With the slightly bland Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven wine, a slurp of wine, a crunch of pickles—the flavor was excellent.

Chen Ping'an's daily routines in the Ning Mansion were extremely regular. Aside from spending six hours at the Slaying Dragon Cliff pavilion refining qi, he would often sweep the courtyard with Granny Bai for half an hour at dawn, during which he would ask detailed questions about fist techniques. Regarding the fist-feeding lessons from Li Er at Lion Peak, he explained in enough detail. But different peak grandmasters each elaborated on fist principles; though the foundations were connected, the paths diverged, and the scenery was vastly different. The old woman often got to the fine points and would personally demonstrate the fist techniques, and Chen Ping'an would copy her. In truth, the old woman was quite gratified, because during the street battle, Chen Ping'an had already adopted her fist frame early on. Bai Lianshuang's fist techniques were the opposite of most worldly fist intents; they emphasized withdrawing the fist the most, with the mind intent retracted internally, tempered to a state seemingly perfect and without flaw, achieving mastery, and only then talking about delivering a punch to the enemy.

Every day at noon, he would spend about half an hour with Nalan Yexing in the Miniature Small World training ground, familiarizing himself with a Jade Pure realm sword cultivator's flying sword.

At midnight, there was another session. This was Nalan Yexing's request. To learn the essence of his two completely different sword intents, these two hours were the best time.

Learning swordsmanship from Nalan Yexing was not like learning fist techniques from Granny Bai; he often got injured. Actually, Nalan Yexing's sword strikes were extremely measured, and Chen Ping'an only looked battered with bruises and cuts, all minor wounds. But Granny Bai felt pained every time. Once, Chen Ping'an was a bit more seriously injured. After the midnight sword practice, according to the old custom, he would have a couple of drinks with Grandpa Nalan, but instead, Granny Bai chewed out Nalan Yexing, giving him a thorough scolding. Nalan Yexing just covered his wine cup with his hand, not daring to talk back. Actually, regarding the sword training, both Chen Ping'an and Ning Yao had spoken up, hoping Granny Bai wouldn't worry, but for some reason, the old woman, who was otherwise well-read and reasonable, was stubborn on this one point and wouldn't listen to reason. So the only one suffering was Nalan Yexing.

Later, when they heard that Chen Ping'an's Eighteen Halts of Sword Qi bottleneck was loosening, showing signs of breaking through, the old woman endured her heartache and reluctantly let Nalan Yexing off, though he had no merit, only hard work.

Regarding A Liang's modified Eighteen Halts, Chen Ping'an had privately asked Ning Yao why only so few people had been taught.

Ning Yao's expression was grave. She said it wasn't that A Liang didn't want to teach more, but that he didn't dare.

Chen Ping'an was sitting in the pavilion at the time, and he jolted awake, breaking out in a cold sweat for the first time ever.

If too many were taught, the entire younger generation of demon sword cultivators in the Barbarian Wilderness could have their sword path elevated by a whole level!

Ning Yao looked at Chen Ping'an.

Chen Ping'an said, "So far, I've only taught one person: Pei Qian."

Ning Yao nodded. "Then it's fine."

After that, Chen Ping'an asked if, besides the two printed books, there were any handwritten notes of Sword Immortals scattered among the commoners in the city—whether by local or foreign sword cultivators, whether accounts of sword battles on the Sword Qi Great Wall or travelogues of the Barbarian Wilderness. Ning Yao said that the Ning Mansion's own collection of such miscellaneous books was limited; the library mostly held scriptures of the hundred schools of thought and sages. But the Mirage Market in the northern part of the city might be worth a try.

Chen Ping'an hesitated.

That marketplace was very strange. Its foundation was a true mirage, yet it had long condensed into something tangible, with jade towers and grand halls, majestic as an immortal mansion. It contained over forty buildings of various kinds, capable of accommodating thousands. The city itself was heavily guarded, making it difficult for outsiders to enter or leave. Thus, the great merchants and tycoons who had long-term trade with the Sword Qi Great Wall from the Glorious Heavenly Court did their business there. Ingenious trinkets, antique curios, precious artifacts, heavy treasures—everything imaginable was available. Every hundred years, the Mirage Market would turn illusory, and the cultivators living there would have to evacuate once, with everyone and everything exiting. After the mirage spontaneously condensed back into solid form, they would move back in.

Ning Yao had once encountered an assassination attempt there.

Granny Bai had also fallen from the tenth-tier martial realm to the mountain summit realm there. Pure martial artists don't typically experience realm declines like Qi refiners do—this shows how perilous and brutal the ambush was back then.

Chen Ping'an didn't agree to go there with Ning Yao. He only planned to have people collect books for him—spending money was the point; otherwise, what was the use of working hard to earn it?

If you didn't talk about all-out life-or-death battles, but only about the speed of cultivation.

Chen Ping'an, even if he didn't compare himself to Ning Yao, and only compared himself to Diezhang, Chen Sanqiu, and the others, would still sincerely feel inferior. Once, Yan Zhuo was on the training ground, saying he would "teach on behalf of his master," passing on that set of supreme fist techniques to the little girl Guo Zhujiu. Chen Ping'an squatted to the side, ignoring the foolishness of the big and small, but glanced up at Chen Sanqiu and Dong Huafu in the pavilion, observing their Qi cultivation aura. Using the Longevity Bridge as a bridge between the small and great heavens, the flow of spiritual Qi was so fast it was dazzling. Chen Ping'an watched and felt a bit upset, always thinking that his own breathing and absorbing there was an insult to the feng shui treasure land of Slaying Dragon Cliff.

Ning Yao stood beside him and comforted him, "Your Longevity Bridge isn't fully built yet, and those two are Golden Core cultivators, so you naturally feel a huge gap. When you've gathered your five lifebound objects, and the five elements support each other, with your current three lifebound objects—the Water Character Seal, the Five Sacred Mountains Soil of Bottle Gourd Continent, and the Wooden Statue Deity—all of excellent rank, you already have the rudiments of a small heaven with a grand structure. You should know that even on the Sword Qi Great Wall, the vast majority of Earth Immortal sword cultivators don't have such a complex alchemy chamber."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "For a sword cultivator, having a good enough lifebound sword is sufficient. There's no need for so many lifebound objects to support it."

Ning Yao said, "Am I not just saying these comforting words to you?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "I appreciate the sentiment."

Chen Ping'an remembered something. "Diezhang is busy with the shop business every day—won't that really hinder her cultivation?"

Ning Yao shook her head. "No. Except for reaching the Cavern Dwelling realm from the lower fifth tier, and reaching the Golden Core realm—both times in the Ning Mansion—all of Diezhang's breakthroughs came from herself. Each time she underwent a battle's trial, she could break through very quickly. She's a genius naturally suited for large-scale slaughter. Last time she sparred with Dong Huafu, you didn't actually see everything. When you really go to the battlefield and fight alongside Diezhang, you'll understand why Chen Sanqiu and the others treat her as a close friend for life. Apart from me, after every major battle ends, Chen Sanqiu asks Fatty Yan and Black Charcoal Dong, 'Did you see the back of Diezhang's head clearly? Was it beautiful or not?'"

Ning Yao continued, "So the elders of the Dong and Chen families have always regarded Diezhang, who comes from a less-than-stellar background, with great respect. Especially the Chen family, who intended for a young elite to marry Diezhang. Chen Sanqiu's older brother even agreed, but Diezhang herself didn't agree. Grandpa Dong agreed to see off Huang Tong, the Sword Immortal of the Taihui Sword Sect, at Diezhang's shop—it has nothing to do with you, only with Diezhang having saved Black Charcoal Dong's life. Diezhang once said, 'If I am doomed to die, there's no need to save me.' Grandpa Dong appreciated that immensely."

Ning Yao smiled. "I haven't told Diezhang much about these things. She's very sensitive and always overthinks things. I'm afraid it will distract her. She admires those Sword Immortals with brilliant battle achievements too much—excess is as bad as deficiency. At the shop earlier, you should have noticed that whether it was Zuo You, Grandpa Dong, or Han Huaizi and Li Cai, whenever Diezhang saw them, she got very nervous."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "I did notice. If you agree, I can talk to her about it later. I have some experience with that."

Ning Yao stared at Chen Ping'an and asked, "Why wouldn't I agree? Or do you think I'm unreasonable?"

Chen Ping'an reached out with both hands and pinched Ning Yao's cheeks. "How could that be?"

Fatty Yan, who had been keeping his eyes and ears open all around, was caught off guard when the young girl, who had learned his fist techniques and footwork, landed a kick right on his face. Yan Zhuo was completely unfazed and gave Guo Zhujiu a wink. The little girl turned to look and sucked in a cold breath—Master was so bold! Truly, skill gives courage! And she herself was incredibly clever and lucky; this apprenticeship was a sure profit!

Ning Yao stood still, letting that guy pinch both her cheeks with two fingers. "So capable, huh? Want to go to the Miniature Small World and practice with me?"

Chen Ping'an quickly withdrew his hands, but then put one hand behind his back, extended the other with an open palm toward the training ground, and smiled. "Please."

Ning Yao raised an eyebrow, leaped into the Miniature Small World near the south of the training ground, and drifted down, lightly twisting her wrist.

Chen Ping'an ran off without a trace.

Ning Yao didn't chase him. She just summoned her flying sword and strolled leisurely through the Miniature Small World, not even really practicing swordsmanship—it was just that her sword hadn't seen the world for a long time.

For Ning Yao, cultivation was hardly worth mentioning.

Guo Zhujiu stared blankly. "Reading the situation, being able to bend and stretch—my master is truly a man of great stature."

Yan Zhuo asked, "Lü Duan, I'll teach you fist techniques, you teach me this flattery skill, how about it?"

The little girl imitated the blue-robed sword cultivator master's cool pose from the street battle—one fist forward, one hand behind her back—and shook her head. "Your heart isn't sincere, and your aptitude is even worse."

Yan Zhuo was a bit dazed.

Ning Yao waved. "Lü Duan, come here and get beaten."

Guo Zhujiu shouted "Coming!" and then started running. At least as a mid-fifth-tier sword cultivator, wind-riding escape wasn't hard, just not as smooth as her future master's.

A disciple inferior to the master is nothing to be ashamed of.

But unfortunately, Ning Yao reached out and grabbed her, using a well-timed weave of fine sword qi to casually yank Guo Zhujiu to her side.

Guo Zhujiu stumbled to a stop, gave a light shout, pressed her palms together, then intertwined her fingers and formed a hand seal. "Heavenly spirits, earthly spirits, Sister Ning can't see me, and it won't hurt if I get hit!"

Yan Zhuo covered his face with both hands, rubbing vigorously, and muttered to himself, "If I had to take a disciple like Lü Duan, I'd rather become her disciple."

If Guo Zhujiu thought she could escape that easily, she had underestimated Ning Yao.

The little girl left the Ning Mansion with a bruised and swollen face, hopping along. At the door, she even asked Sister Ning if she wanted some pastries, and patted her chest to guarantee that she just wasn't looking where she was going and tripped. Then, inexplicably, Ning Yao grabbed her little head and knocked it against the door a few times.

A bit dizzy, Guo Zhujiu left the fist-learning sacred ground alone. She walked pitifully down the street, touched her face, and found her palm full of nosebleed. She casually wiped it on her clothes, raised her head high, and walked forward slowly, thinking that learning fist techniques was really quite hard, but that was a good thing. How could there be supreme fist techniques in the world that could be learned easily? When she had mastered seven or eight-tenths of the skill, forget about Sister Ning—she was the mistress. Master probably wouldn't take her side, so she could tolerate it. But that Dong Budé, that old maiden who couldn't get married, had better watch out when walking at night in the future.

The little girl, with a swaying green handled inkstone hanging from her waist, kept her head up, looking at the cloudless blue sky, and nodded gently. Today was a good day.

That day, Chen Ping'an and Ning Yao walked together to Diezhang's tavern.

Before, their times for cultivating qi were separate and didn't always align. Often, Chen Ping'an would go to Diezhang's tavern alone.

Today, Ning Yao had clearly interrupted her cultivation to accompany Chen Ping'an.

Chen Ping'an didn't think much of it.

Passing by a street tavern whose business was far less prosperous than his shop, Chen Ping'an looked at the various couplets and horizontal scrolls and said softly to Ning Yao, "The calligraphy isn't as good as mine, and the meaning is even worse, right?"

Ning Yao said, "There's a big restaurant that invited a registered disciple of a Confucian sage, a gentleman from an academy, to personally write the couplets and horizontal scroll."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "That's just a crude business tactic, learning only a bit of the surface. It won't succeed. I bet that if the restaurant's business doesn't get worse, the manager will be burning incense to thank his lucky stars. Don't expect the drinkers to appreciate it. There are over seventy taverns of all sizes here, everyone selling wine, and over a hundred varieties of immortal brews from the Glorious Heavenly Court. It's not hard to get any kind of wine you want. But when it comes down to it, what are they selling?"

Ning Yao asked, "What?"

Chen Ping'an smiled but didn't speak, continuing to look around at the couplets that seemed like shy young maidens.

Ning Yao said, "Fine, don't tell me."

Chen Ping'an quickly said, "Of course, it's to make those who buy the wine feel that 'those who drink my wine are not sword immortals yet surpass sword immortals, or are sword immortals who surpass sword immortals.' A small shop with crude tables and benches, yet unrestrained—a small cup, a big world. So when Diezhang said she wanted to replace the tables and benches after making money, to make them as fresh and shiny as the big restaurants, that absolutely wouldn't do. When Fatty Yan proposed using his private money to invest, taking a large silk shop that wasn't doing well, written in his name, I directly refused. First, it would ruin the feng shui and needlessly reduce the unique charm of the current tavern. Second, this city of ours isn't small. Tens of thousands of people. If half of them are women, can they not buy silk and satin? So I plan to talk to Fatty Yan about not continuing to inject money into our shop. Instead, we'll invest in his silk shop. Here, those truly willing to spend money, aside from sword cultivators who love drinking, are women who most like to adorn themselves for those who appreciate them. I've already drafted the new couplet for the silk shop..."

Ning Yao said slowly, "A Liang once said that a man can become a Sword Immortal solely by talent, but to become a good man like him, who understands people's hearts, he must have suffered the heartache of women's words piercing like flying swords, endured the bitterness of a woman leaving without looking back, and drunk thousands of cups of haunting wine. Otherwise, don't even think about it."

Chen Ping'an turned to look at Ning Yao and blinked. "That's right. These past ten years, the one I've been thinking about day and night is separated by a distant land. Even a Sword Immortal's flying sword can't reach her. Only punching and drinking can ease the sorrow."

The next moment, Chen Ping'an suddenly panicked.

Ning Yao's face showed an unconcealed melancholy.

Her eyes seemed to speak yet held back. She was not good with words, so she never spoke them. Because she never knew how to say sweet words.

In the past, the straw-sandaled youth who had punched a million times to reach the Hanging Mountain was equally clumsy with words, so she didn't feel anything was off. It seemed it should be like that: you don't speak, I don't speak, and we understand.

Chen Ping'an extended his thumb and gently brushed it across Ning Yao's brow. "Don't be unhappy. Smooth out your worried brow."

Ning Yao said, "I am unhappy."

Chen Ping'an bent down, scooped up Ning Yao, and started running.

Ning Yao was at a loss.

Carrying her, Chen Ping'an ran all the way to Diezhang's tavern. The dozens of sword cultivators at the tables and squatting nearby were all stunned.

Among them were many young women, mostly well-bred daughters who had come out of curiosity. Seeing this scene, they didn't mind; instead, their eyes sparkled. Some bold ones even took a big gulp of wine and whistled with practiced ease.

Chen Ping'an set Ning Yao down and waved his hand. "Anyone who hasn't settled their tab gets a ten percent discount!"

Then Chen Ping'an added, "But the second manager's word doesn't necessarily count—let Diezhang, the first manager, make the final call."

The drinkers all turned to look at Diezhang, who smiled and nodded. "Then ten percent off."

Cheers erupted.

Damn, it wasn't easy to save a bit on wine money from this second manager.

Chen Ping'an grabbed a small stool and was about to go to the corner of the alley to be a storyteller again. He looked at Ning Yao, and she nodded.

Diezhang came to Ning Yao's side and whispered, "What's going on today? Chen Ping'an isn't usually like this. The way he's acting, in a few days he'll be banging a gong in the streets."

Ning Yao glanced sideways at a table of chattering women and smiled without speaking.

Diezhang suppressed a laugh. She had secretly mentioned to Ning Yao that recently, women often came to the tavern to drink, their minds not on the wine but on the second manager, who had become famous. Two shameless ones not only bought wine but also carved their names and wrote messages on the back of the wu shi plaques on the wall. If Diezhang weren't the shop manager, she would have taken the plaques down. Ning Yao had come before, turned over those two plaques, glanced at them, then silently turned them back.

Chen Ping'an sat on the small stool, and soon a large group of children gathered around.

He again told a tale of landscapes and spirits that he hadn't finished last time, stopping at a critical point, smilingly saying, "To be continued next time."

He was met with complaints all around.

The little brat who had wanted to learn fists from Chen Ping'an even earlier than Guo Zhujiu squatted at Chen Ping'an's feet, fished out a copper coin from his clay pot, and said, "Chen Ping'an, keep going. Here's a tip. If that's not enough, I can add more."

Chen Ping'an reached out and pushed the kid's head away. "Go cool off somewhere."

Then Chen Ping'an took a piece of paper from his chest, a rubbing from a stele, and gently unfolded it. "Are there any characters here you don't recognize? Anyone want to learn?"

A youth mumbled, "Lots of characters I don't recognize. What use is learning these? Boring. I don't want to hear this. Keep telling the story, or I'll leave."

Chen Ping'an looked around. It was mostly the same. For children growing up in poor alleys, learning to read wasn't really interesting. Once the novelty wore off, it was hard to maintain.

Learning to read on the Sword Qi Great Wall wasn't useless—it was certainly useful for those lucky enough to become sword cultivators.

But for the poor families in these streets and lanes, it was just a way to pass the time. If not for wanting to know what the illustrated figures in the little picture books were saying, everyone felt that, like those crooked stone steles, from childhood to old age to death, the two sides never recognized each other, and it didn't matter.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "No hurry. Today, I'll only explain one character. After I finish, I'll continue the story."

Chen Ping'an picked up a bamboo branch from his knee and wrote a character on the ground: stable (wěn).

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Who recognizes this?"

Someone said it.

Then Chen Ping'an raised the bamboo branch in his hand—it was emerald green and faintly shimmering with spiritual energy—and said, "Today, whoever can explain this character to me, I'll give this bamboo branch. Of course, you have to explain it well. At the very least, tell me why this character 'stable' obviously means 'not fast,' yet includes the character for 'urgent'—isn't that contradictory? Could it be that when the sage created the characters, he was dozing off and made this one up for us in a daze?"

A group of children stared wide-eyed at each other, dumbfounded.

Just being able to recognize it as "stable" was already impressive; who knew anything about that?

A little girl hiding among the crowd said softly, "Future Master, I know the meaning."

Chen Ping'an shook his head and smiled. "No, you've been reading since you were little. If you explain the character, it's unfair to the others."

Guo Zhujiu coveted the bamboo branch in Master's hand. If she got it, wouldn't she be the queen of her street? The little girl was a bit frustrated. "I shouldn't have studied."

After the others noticed Guo Zhujiu, they subtly moved their steps, distancing themselves from her. It wasn't just fear and envy, but also inferiority, and the self-esteem that often lives next door to inferiority.

The little girl, left squatting alone, didn't seem to care. The small handled inkstone hanging from her waist didn't matter if it touched the ground.

A poor, handsome youth in patched clothes gathered his courage, his face slightly reddened. He pointed at the character on the ground in front of Chen Ping'an, his voice trembling. "Grain plus urgent makes 'stable.' Grain seedlings actually grow quickly, but they grow slowly. On my street, Lingxi Lane, there's a small stele that says, 'When chaff, husks, and bran gather, wealth matches emperors and lords.' I asked Sister Diezhang, and she knew the meaning, but she said she'd never seen chaff, husks, or bran. I think this character 'stable' means taking grain as the root and urgency as the surface expression. It's like the new tavern you and Sister Diezhang opened—money comes in fast, but you spend it slowly, so you build up a foundation, and Sister Diezhang can buy a bigger house."

Chen Ping'an had long noticed this youth. He was the most attentive and serious when listening to stories and explaining characters.

He was also one of the apprentice craftsmen who had repaired the streets earlier.

But Chen Ping'an noticed that the youth's physique was frail. Not only had he missed the optimal time to learn fists, but he was also naturally unsuited for martial arts—different from Zhao Shuxia. It wasn't that he couldn't learn fists, but it would be very difficult to achieve anything; at the very least, he wouldn't survive the hardship of the third tier.

Chen Ping'an hadn't given up. After asking Ning Yao, she looked at the youth from afar and shook her head, saying he had no aptitude for swordsmanship. He couldn't even take the first step. If this didn't work, everything was lost—you couldn't force it. Chen Ping'an had to let it go.

Perhaps it wasn't that the youth truly loved learning to read; it was that he had been poor and orphaned since childhood, with nothing to his name and nothing to do. He always had to do something. If he could make himself a little different from his peers without spending money, the impoverished youth would be particularly devoted.

Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded. "Zhang Jiazhen, you've explained the character 'stable' more than half correctly. So the bamboo branch is yours."

Chen Ping'an handed over the bamboo branch. The youth, who hadn't expected Chen Ping'an to know his name, flushed completely, panicked, and shook his head vigorously. "I don't want it."

Chen Ping'an withdrew the bamboo branch and smiled. "What, you want to learn fists?"

Zhang Jiazhen still shook his head. "It would delay my work as a laborer."

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Having a true skill is the most important foundation for standing on your own. Otherwise, it's hard to live a good life. Then you'll blame heaven and others, finding grievances everywhere, thinking even that people are good is a mistake—that would be a real worry."

The youth seemed to understand but didn't really. Even though he was the most literate among his peers in the nearby streets, true learning was beyond him. But Chen Ping'an's words weren't exactly the doctrines of sages—just simple, everyday common sense. Zhang Jiazhen could still pick up some things, like Chen Ping'an recognizing him for working as a laborer to earn money and support himself. That gave the youth some peace.

Being acknowledged, even if small, might not be a trivial matter for a youth like Zhang Jiazhen.

The kid clutching the clay pot shouted, "I don't want to be a bricklayer! No future! Even if I get a wife, she won't be pretty!"

Chen Ping'an reached out, grabbed the kid's head, and gently shook it. "So you have lofty ambitions, huh? Fine. When you go home, ask your dad: is your mom pretty? If you dare to ask, with that heroic spirit, I'll tell you a spirit story just for you. Deal or no deal?"

"I must have an itchy back, right? You tell stories often, they won't run away. But when my mom gets mad, my dad just makes me take the beating."

The kid raised the clay pot, huffing. "Chen Ping'an, are you going to teach me fist techniques or not?! You're a fool if you don't take the money!"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Today, after I finish the second half of the story, I'll teach you a simple fist technique that anyone can learn. But let me say upfront: this fist technique is boring. Even if you learn it, you definitely won't amount to much. At most, when it snows in winter, you'll feel a little less cold."

The kid said "oh," thought it was okay—might as well learn it for free—and hugged his pot tightly.

Chen Ping'an grinned at the kid. "Hand over the money pot, then."

The kid asked, "Cheating kids out of their money? Chen Ping'an, aren't you ashamed? A master like you, how embarrassing! If I weren't learning fist techniques from you, it's only because once I become a master, I'd never be like you."

Laughter erupted around the small stool.

Even Zhang Jiazhen and the older youths envied the kid's audacity, daring to talk to Chen Ping'an like that.

Chen Ping'an finished the landscape story, which included both mischievous spirits and cultivators exorcising demons, then stood up, placed the bamboo branch on the stool. The children made room, watching the man in blue slowly perform a six-step stance.

Chen Ping'an stopped and smiled. "Did you learn it?"

Guo Zhujiu watched intently—supreme fist technique, grandmaster demeanor!

The kid holding the clay pot stared blankly. "That's it?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "What else?"

The kid gently set down the clay pot, stood up, and started flailing wildly, throwing punches. After panting and withdrawing his fists, he shouted angrily, "This is the fist technique you used to beat up those little sword immortals, Chen Ping'an! Who are you fooling?! Just walking step by step, so slow, I'm getting anxious for you!"

Chen Ping'an pointed to the character on the ground and smiled. "Forgot already?"

Chen Ping'an walked through the six-step stance again, still slow, delivering punches leisurely as he walked. "All fist technique—all kung fu—comes from stability. One day, when your fist technique is perfected, when you deliver this punch..."

On the last step of the stance, Chen Ping'an stopped, his fist angled upward toward the sky.

The children stared wide-eyed at the sky.

Chen Ping'an had quietly withdrawn his fist, picked up the bamboo branch and stool, and was about to head back.

The kid asked dazedly, "That punch you threw—there wasn't even a thunderclap?"

The others nodded in agreement, feeling it was totally unsatisfying.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "I didn't actually throw a punch."

The atmosphere was a bit awkward.

Guo Zhujiu gathered her qi in her dantian and shouted loudly, "BOOM!"

Chen Ping'an covered his forehead with his hand—it was a bit embarrassing—but he couldn't hurt the girl's feelings, so he forced a smile and gave her a thumbs up.

The other kids looked at each other.

Scatter, scatter. Boring. Wait for the next story.

Chen Ping'an called out to Zhang Jiazhen. The youth, confused, came over to Chen Ping'an, uneasy.

To the youth, this man named Chen Ping'an was... a celestial being.

Chen Ping'an walked slowly, twisted his wrist, and secretly took out a bamboo leaf, pressing it into Zhang Jiazhen's hand. "A gift for you. You can wear it on your person. Like the fist stance, it's useless—I'm not testing you, that's just how it is. But if you're willing to learn the fist technique, walk through it a few more times each day. This little bamboo leaf can help you ward off the cold a little. It's going to snow soon, and during the bitter cold, it might make your labor a bit easier."

Zhang Jiazhen clenched the bamboo leaf and was silent for a moment. "Am I really not suited for martial arts or swordsmanship?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "Yes."

The youth's eyes reddened, and he looked down without speaking.

Chen Ping'an looked ahead. "Taking responsibility for yourself at such a young age is a remarkable thing. Zhang Jiazhen, don't think less of yourself."

The youth looked up.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "The name Jiazhen—did you pick those two characters yourself after reading so many stele inscriptions?"

The youth nodded. "My parents died early, and my grandfather couldn't read. I only had a nickname for years."

Chen Ping'an turned his head and said, "Jia means beauty, zhen means steadfastness—it's a fine name. Life on the Sword Qi Great Wall hasn't been good, and that's something you can't help, so you have to accept your fate. But how you live your life is something you can decide. Whether it will get better in the future is hard to say—it might get harder. You might earn a bit more money as your skills improve, becoming a craftsman respected by your neighbors."

He paused, then turned with a smile. "But at the very least, when I tell landscape stories to others in the future, I might mention that on Lingxi Lane of the Sword Qi Great Wall, there's a craftsman named Zhang Jiazhen. He might have no other strengths besides his craft, but since he was a child, he loved reading stele inscriptions and learning characters—no less than any scholar."

After Zhang Jiazhen left.

Through it all, Guo Zhujiu hadn't said a word. She just looked up at the man who would be her master in a year and a half.

Suddenly, Guo Zhujiu's eyes widened with anticipation.

Chen Ping'an counted on his fingers and said, "Taking on a disciple still needs a year and a half."

Guo Zhujiu let out a heavy sigh.

Chen Ping'an continued walking forward. The bustling tavern, money flowing like water into his pocket, looked festive from afar. In a good mood, he casually asked, "Have you ever heard a saying that it takes a hundred kinds of evil in the world to nurture a poet whose writings will be passed down through the ages?"

Guo Zhujiu shook her head. "Future master has great learning; future disciple has little learning. I haven't heard of it."

Chen Ping'an thought it strange—had the feng shui of his Fallen Mountain already spread to the Sword Qi Great Wall? It didn't make sense. The main culprit, his senior disciple Zhu Lian and the others, were far away.

Guo Zhujiu asked curiously, "There's more, right?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "Those widely loved timeless writings are nothing. All of you, for ten thousand years of ancestors and descendants here, are enough to put all the poems in the world to shame."

Guo Zhujiu asked, "Master, do you need me to shout that in every street and lane? I can do it while walking the stance practice—it's not tiring."

Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "Don't."

Guo Zhujiu snickered. That line just now had hidden meaning—she had called herself "disciple" and called him "Master." Today was a big win.

At the tavern.

Ning Yao looked at Guo Zhujiu, who was about to slip away. The little girl trotted over to Ning Yao and smiled. "Sister Ning, you look especially beautiful today."

Ning Yao glanced at Chen Ping'an.

Chen Ping'an smiled bitterly. "I didn't teach her that."

Seeing that Sister Ning rarely didn't hit her today, Guo Zhujiu knew when to stop and went home.

When you're young, you think there are so many big worries.

When you grow up, you forget what those worries were.

Ning Yao and Chen Ping'an returned to the Ning Mansion together.

Ning Yao asked, "Are you really going to take a disciple?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "For now, it's just an unregistered one. The Guo family has treated me well, and it's rare that I can do something for the Ning Mansion."

At the tavern, Wei Jin, who had been drinking for a while, seemed to remember something. He turned to look at Chen Ping'an's retreating figure and transmitted his voice with a smile: "I've been too busy drinking the past few times to mention it. Senior Zuo asked me a long time ago to tell you—when will you start practicing swordsmanship?"

Chen Ping'an turned to Diezhang and shouted, "Big Manager, from now on, whenever Grand Sword Immortal Wei drinks here, charge him eleven percent more!"

Wei Jin placed a Grain Rain coin on the table. "Deal."

Ning Yao asked, "What's wrong?"

Chen Ping'an smiled bitterly. "I need to go to the Sword Qi Great Wall immediately. Tell Granny Bai to prepare the medicinal vat. If I'm not back too late, come and carry me back."

----

At the Sword Qi Great Wall.

Zuo You sat cross-legged, facing south, with his eyes closed, resting his mind.

There were many things Zuo You didn't understand. Some he could understand but refused to accept.

So in the end, alone, he chose to distance himself from the world's disputes, flying his sword toward the sea.

This wasn't some romantic Sword Immortal gesture. In fact, it wasn't pleasant at all.

But now, there was one more thing Zuo You didn't understand.

His master wasn't around, and his junior apprentice brother had grown so bold.