Chapter 603: The One Fighting is My Master
At daybreak, nearing that great gate of Daoxuan Mountain, only a few steps away from leaving one world and entering another, Zhong Qiu asked, "Forgive my many questions, but who helped us get to the Sword Qi Great Wall? And is there any hidden worry about the return journey?"
Cui Dongshan did not hide anything, smiling as he replied, "It was the master of Chunfan Studio, the sword immortal Shao Yunyan, who lent a small hand. Money can move the gods, that's all—not worth your concern, Master Zhong."
Naturally, Zhong Qiu did not believe the youth's words. To hand money to Shao Yunyan of Chunfan Studio, one needed to be able to knock on his door first.
But since Cui Dongshan said there was no need to worry, Zhong Qiu set his mind at ease. Otherwise, now that both parties were considered members of the Luopo Mountain ancestral hall, if there truly was a place where Zhong Qiu could exert himself, he hoped Cui Dongshan would be frank with him.
As for Cui Dongshan, it wasn't just Zhong Qiu who found him peculiar. In fact, Zhong Qiu had observed that Zhu Lian, Zheng Dafeng, and the mountain lord Wei Bo—the three who formed the oldest small faction within Luopo Mountain—all cared deeply about their closeness or distance with this extraordinary person who had the appearance of a youth. The reason was simple: the "youth" named Cui Dongshan had a mind as deep as an abyss. As a former national preceptor, Zhong Qiu had seen countless people, read countless emperors, generals, heroes, and tyrants across the world, and could even see through the true intentions of Yu Zhenyi when he turned to cultivation and seeking immortality. Yet this white-robed young man, who spent his days playing and causing mischief with Pei Qian, stirred something in Zhong Qiu's deepest heart—a voice that said the best course was not to probe too deeply into this person's state of mind.
The gatekeeper here was a child-like Daoist boy of Daoxuan Mountain, whose seniority was equal to that of a Grand Heavenly Lord. Now, instead of lowering his head to read a book, he was staring straight at the four travelers, not hiding his gaze at all.
Then this little Daoist child, who had once sent Lu Tai flying out of Shangxiang Tower with a single slap, split his attention four ways and asked each of the four a question. He asked the same question to the Confucian-robed youth and the girl carrying the walking staff.
To Zhong Qiu, he asked, "Are you willing to go to Shangxiang Tower and light an incense stick? If the incense can be lit, you may enter my sect. From now on, you and I might call each other senior and junior brothers. But I cannot guarantee your rank will rise in one leap—I must be clear about this with you first."
For any ordinary cultivator of Haoran World, these words would be considered a blessing as vast as heaven and earth.
To Pei Qian and Cao Qinglang, he asked, "Whose sect are you from?"
To Cui Dongshan, he asked, "Who are you?"
Zhong Qiu replied using sound-gathering into a thread, smiling, "I am grateful for the Daoist's favor, but I am a Confucian student and half a pure martial artist. I have no intention of cultivating immortal techniques."
Cao Qinglang, calm and composed, answered using ripples on his heart lake, "In Haoran World, the transmission of a sect is of utmost importance. This junior dares not speak. Please forgive me, Daoist."
The little Daoist child was not particularly surprised by these expected answers. He nodded, indicating he understood, and certainly did not feel angry or humiliated.
Year after year, watching the myriad sights of Daoxuan Mountain had grown tedious and boring. He was just looking for something unexpected.
The girl, holding the emerald walking staff that was refined from the gilded bamboo whip of Thunder Pond, said nothing. Instead, she looked up at the sky, pretending to be deaf and dumb, as if she had received a mental response from the youth. Then she began to inch backward, step by step, until she finally hid behind the white-robed youth. The little Daoist child chuckled to himself. His reputation on Daoxuan Mountain wasn't bad, was it? He had never once bullied others relying on his power. On the rare occasions he intervened, it was always with his own meager Daoist arts—a small matter.
But the answer from the youth who wore the cast-off skin of an ancient true dragon left the little Daoist child speechless. That fellow just blurted out, without gathering sound into a thread or speaking through heart lake ripples, saying directly, "I am Dongshan."
The little Daoist child had no interest in pressing further. He lowered his head and continued flipping through his book. The gate beside him opened on its own.
The four walked toward the gate. Pei Qian kept hiding as far away from the little Daoist child as possible. As the white goose shifted its steps, she stood to its left and followed along, as if she believed that if she couldn't see the little Daoist child, the child couldn't see her either.
After boarding the ship at Old Dragon City, Cui Dongshan had reminded Pei Qian of one thing: when encountering a true master, don't even glance; take a detour, and strive not to interfere with each other like water and oil.
Pei Qian had asked how to recognize a true master. Cui Dongshan laughed and said those whose heart lake scenes were shrouded in clouds and mist at first glance were true masters. Once recognized, just pretend to be a true blind man like Chen Lingjun, then pretend to be mute like Xiao Mili.
Zhong Qiu took a step onto the ground. His breathing became a little rough, but it was not serious. After a few breaths, he grew accustomed to it.
Even as pure martial artists at the Far Roaming Realm, those from Ouhua Blessed Land and Haoran World had quite significant differences.
As a national preceptor, Zhong Qiu had expended tremendous energy and spirit. After Ouhua Blessed Land became Lotus Root Blessed Land, the great suppression of the Dao was lifted, and Zhong Qiu shed his role as national preceptor. His state of mind and spiritual energy both expanded. In fact, even before he entered Luopo Mountain, he had already become two different Zhong Qius. So during those ten years, Zhong Qiu first naturally broke through the bottleneck of the Sixth Realm, successfully entered the Golden Body Realm, and then, after a certain change or opportunity—one where he got the moon first by being near the water, yet didn't know he was in the tower seeing the moon—he crossed another great threshold.
It seemed to be fate and luck, but it was actually accumulated preparation.
Cao Qinglang felt the worst. His face was pale, and his hands were hidden in his sleeves, each forming a hand seal to help stabilize his spirit and soul.
This technique had been taught by Mr. Lu in the early years.
Pei Qian recovered much earlier than Cao Qinglang. She shook her head proudly, looking at this blockhead Cao—his path of cultivation was long and arduous, which worried her greatly.
Earlier, Cui Dongshan had whispered to her telepathically, "I'm going to tease that little fellow a bit."
Pei Qian had warned him, "Don't go too far!"
Cui Dongshan was the last to step through the gate. He leaned backward, stretching his neck, as if trying to see what book the little Daoist child was reading.
The little Daoist child smiled and said, "On Daoxuan Mountain, one of my grandnephews by seniority is not too friendly toward dragon-kin."
Cui Dongshan had already passed through the gate, but unexpectedly, he took a step back. "What did you just say?"
The little Daoist child paused, turned his head, and frowned. "What realm are you in, exactly?"
Cui Dongshan said cheerfully, "If I said I'm in the Ascension Realm, would you believe me?"
The little Daoist child shook his head.
The youth, apparently with too much time on his hands, earnestly discussed this rather boring topic with him. "Then why did you ask? If I said I was in the Nascent Soul Realm or Jade Pu Realm, would you believe me? Do you trust me, or do you trust yourself? How do I know whether you trust you, or trust the me in your mind? And then how am I supposed to trust which you is the trusting one?"
The little Daoist child was stunned for a long moment. "Are you mentally ill?"
The youth actually didn't leave. He maintained that posture—feet already in Barren Wasteland World, body leaning backward still in Haoran World. "If the trouble lies in the Great Dao itself, not in you or me, what do you do then? Would taking medicine help?"
The little Daoist child was completely speechless.
The youth grinned mischievously. "Honestly, you asked me if I'm sick, then I asked if you need medicine, and that's got you stumped?"
The little Daoist child looked doubtful. "Are you tired of living?"
The youth put on a stern face. "When heaven and earth give birth to a person, how is that repaid? In the end, it must be repaid with death."
The little Daoist child frowned deeply, closed his book, and decided to yank this fellow back to Daoxuan Mountain and give him a thorough beating. Then his true realm would naturally come to light. But unexpectedly, the fellow saw the danger and ran off.
A moment later, he leaned back again, grinning at the little Daoist child. "That book 'Among the Pines,' which seems romantic and sentimental for most of its pages—it's really not worth much. The lovesick scholar dies in the end, but the woman doesn't commit suicide. She remarries someone else and gives birth to a bunch of chubby babies. Annoying, right? Infuriating? That's not even the worst part. The most infuriating thing is that the scholar reincarnates and becomes the son of the woman's son. Perfect! Wonderful!"
The little Daoist child let out a slight breath, forced a smile, and said slowly, "Come, let's have a good chat."
The white-robed youth finally had the sense to disappear, unwilling to talk with him any longer.
As soon as that bastard left, the exasperated little Daoist child hurriedly flipped to the end of the book. His eyes widened—the book actually had a happy ending of perfect harmony.
Cui Dongshan popped back again, looking worried. "Oh, I forgot to tell you—this is a later reprinted edition that the unscrupulous book merchant tampered with. The original uncut, unexpurgated ending isn't so beautiful. But that caused poor sales; the bookshops couldn't move the stock. Don't believe me? This is the Yushanfang reprint from the Dunxi Liu family of Liuxia Zhou, right? Tsk, not even a good edition, let alone a rare one. You're reading it with such gusto—you should at least get the Wenguantang edition. But there's this mysterious rouge edition, where whenever a couple meets, the text is expanded, not cut. That one is really, really good. If you have money and free time, you must buy it!"
The little Daoist child asked, "Do you have it?"
The white-robed youth said helplessly, "I, a mighty Cultivator of the Middle Five Realms, why would I spend money collecting different editions of scholar-beauty stories?"
The little Daoist child sighed and put the book away. Just looking at it annoyed him. Finally, he got down to business. "My grandnephew by seniority—it seems he couldn't find out your background."
The man squinted and nodded. "Then tell him to stop investigating. He's tired of living—careful, he might get struck by heavenly lightning. Do you think anyone else on Daoxuan Mountain, as big a place as it is, can come and go between two great worlds as freely as I do, just because they want to? Right?"
The little Daoist child finally stood up.
In an instant, though only the size of a street child, the little Daoist seemed to rise like a mountain suddenly standing between heaven and earth.
Cui Dongshan waved goodbye. "Don't think about waiting by the stump for a rabbit, and don't get the idea of closing the door and letting the dog out. When this Middle Five Realm Great Immortal raises a hand or a foot, it shakes the earth and moves the sky. Even before you get scared, I'll be scared myself."
The little Daoist child was about to make an exception and go to the Sword Qi Great Wall to drag this man back to Daoxuan Mountain. But unexpectedly, the Grand Heavenly Lord who sat atop the solitary peak spoke coldly through telepathy, "Let him go."
The little Daoist child turned his head, his eyes icy, gazing at the figure on the solitary peak. "Are you going to use the rules to stop me?"
The Grand Heavenly Lord, whose Dao lineage differed from the little Daoist's, sneered, "Rules? I am the one who made the rules. You've been dissatisfied for years, but when have I ever used rules to suppress you? It's just the Dao."
The little Daoist child was furious. He paced back and forth on the spot.
Then suddenly, a head popped out again, said with great distress, "Angered by outsiders, blocked by one's own—it drives me mad, truly mad!"
The little Daoist child's genuine anger triggered a celestial phenomenon over Daoxuan Mountain. The clouds in the sky churned, and waves rose on the sea. The gods were fighting, causing countless docked ferries to rock violently. Everyone was terrified, but no one knew why.
The Grand Heavenly Lord of Daoxuan Mountain, who had long since set up a small world around the gate at the mountain's base, said calmly, "Enough, both of you."
Cui Dongshan finally stepped completely into the Sword Qi Great Wall.
There were some trivial little truths to settle with the biggest fist on Daoxuan Mountain. After that, all the difficulties ahead would be resolved by someone willing to wield the blade for him.
But Cui Dongshan was still in a bad mood.
That little Daoist child—his Dao arts were just so-so, but his background was extraordinary. Not to mention his master, but one of the existences deeply connected to the child was a great figure at the highest reaches of the Jade Capital. Cui Dongshan had found him displeasing for many years.
But thinking that he could only be displeased, yet couldn't immediately press him to the ground and teach him a lesson, he could only wait—wait for the opportunity to come—Cui Dongshan felt rather pathetic.
He was a reasonable man with friends everywhere. There shouldn't be any grudges that lasted overnight.
And then thinking about the current realm of that old bastard Cui Chan, Cui Dongshan grew even more irritated.
So his expression wasn't good.
Pei Qian asked worriedly, "Did you say something nasty and get beaten? When you're out and about, if you suffer a loss, just endure it."
Cui Dongshan shook his head, rarely failing to trade jokes with the senior disciple.
In the line of the Culture Sage, whether it was grudges or lessons, between master and disciple, or between fellow disciples—no matter who did what—it should be a family matter, settled behind closed doors.
We, the line of the Culture Sage—from the master to the students—when did we ever harm the world for personal gain? When did we ever stoop to letting others gang up, perching high above, pointing fingers?
The line of the Culture Sage—what incense is there to speak of?
Were we truly wrong?
No!
Not to mention the entire Haoran World, just the smallest Baopingzhou—how many people know which portraits are hung in Luopo Mountain?
In the past hundred years, the guilt lies with Cui Chan, and also with me, Cui Dongshan!
And with that wandering old scholar imprisoned in the Merit Grove! And with that Zuo You who hid at sea, visiting gods-know-what immortal! And with that big fool who only ate without contributing, and finally disappeared!
If in the future, my master, Culture Sage, and you, his student—both of you having only realm and cultivation but never knowing how to share the sect's burdens, you useless ones—if your little junior brother ends up the same way, then what?
Still facing the whole world as enemies, alone, standing tall, staring up at those heavenly beings one by one?
And me, Cui Dongshan?
When the day comes to defend Baopingzhou to the death, if there is the great fear of the continent sinking, that old bastard Cui Chan can't die yet, but Cui Dongshan can.
Pei Qian asked softly, "What's wrong? Tell me. I can help if I can. Even if I can't, I can cheer for you."
Cui Dongshan smiled. "Just thinking I'm going to see the master—happy, truly happy."
Pei Qian nodded, then lectured him seriously, "Then save some of it. Don't use up all the happiness at once. Set aside today's joy for tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that. Then if you ever get sad in the future, you can take it out and be happy again."
Cui Dongshan suddenly laughed. This time, he was genuinely happy.
Because he suddenly remembered that his master seemed to be best at one thing in his life—surviving.
Cui Dongshan looked up and gazed around.
The Sword Qi Great Wall. He was really here for the first time.
He'd heard that the guy whose name was either Zuo You or You Zuo was now sitting on the city wall every day drinking northwest wind? After not getting enough sea wind, he came here to drink the celestial wind. Wouldn't that ruin his mind?
Thinking that he once had such a junior brother—it was truly another small sorrow.
Cui Dongshan narrowed his eyes. "Let's go. Straight to the city wall! There's a commotion to see there."
Pei Qian snapped angrily, "No matter how big the commotion, is it more important than my audience with the master?!"
Cui Dongshan said innocently, "My master is right over there. From the looks of it, he's about to fight someone."
Pei Qian stomped her foot, her face crumpling. "What's wrong with the people here?! They just know how to bully an outsider like my master!"
Pei Qian took a deep breath, gripped her walking staff, and was the first to dash forward like flying.
Cui Dongshan surreptitiously pulled a talisman paper from his sleeve. He turned to an old female Daoist from the Shidao Hall and smiled. "Borrowed, borrowed. I'm actually very poor."
A talisman boat materialized out of thin air.
Cui Dongshan leaned on the railing and shouted, "Senior Disciple, what are you doing?"
Pei Qian looked up, startled. Was the white goose that rich? She leaped high, lightly tapped the boat's railing with her walking staff, and landed gracefully on the talisman boat.
As they got closer to the city wall, Pei Qian pulled out a yellow talisman from her sleeve, hesitated, then put it back.
Her master was over there. Why be afraid?
If her master saw her, at worst she'd get a few flicks on the head. But if her mistress saw her and got the wrong idea, how could she make amends?
Even if she knelt and kowtowed to her mistress without a word, probably wouldn't help.
Cui Dongshan sat on the railing at the bow, swinging his feet, his wide sleeves fluttering in the wind.
The youth looked like the newest white cloud over this Barren Wasteland World.
Sword cultivators. All sword cultivators.
As far as the eye could see, nothing but sword cultivators.
The cultivators with the greatest killing power and fastest strikes under heaven—these were the ones.
Pei Qian only dared to poke half her head above the railing, using both hands to protect her face, trying to hide it as much as possible. Then she strained her eyes, searching carefully for her master's figure on the city wall.
That wild sword technique she created herself—it still needed more practice. She'd perform it later.
No rush. Once her master gave her that promised little donkey, after she'd traveled the Jianghu several times with Li Huai and the others, and saved enough money to buy a real good sword, and in the meantime had a few literary duels with that white-haired guy—what was the hurry? We could talk about it later.
On the city wall.
The big and small gamblers stood dumbfounded.
They had seen plenty of black-hearted tricks from A Liang, but they had never seen a second boss with a heart black enough to make your hair stand on end.
Those who bet that one punch would knock down Yu Juanfu lost. Those who bet three or five punches lost. Those who bet between five and ten punches also lost. Those who bet within a hundred punches? Damn it, they lost everything. Not to mention those who joined the gambling table—even the bookmakers had dark faces. They weren't any better off. Where the hell had so many rich morons with brains full of holes come from? Not many, countable on one hand—but they bet that Chen Ping'an would beat Yu Juanfu after a hundred punches! And not light bets, either!
On the Sword Qi Great Wall, when betting on A Liang, the bookmakers could still win money. But now, every time, except for a few sneaky types, both bookmakers and bettors got cleaned out!
That second boss hadn't thrown a single punch from start to finish, letting Yu Juanfu rain punches like rainbows. She had already delivered over a hundred moves.
But the second boss had no conscience; it had been eaten by the stray dogs of Haoran World's roads. And these people, if they were to be honest, would admit that although the second boss only defended and didn't attack, not throwing a single punch, it was still a beautiful fight to watch.
A young martial artist in the Golden Body Realm, dodging or catching fist auras with such fluidity and momentum—as if a sword immortal was unleashing a strike—was a sight unique to the second boss.
But the gentlemen were here to earn money! Could they spend Chen Ping'an's beautiful fight like currency? Could they buy ten or a hundred jugs of Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven wine with it?
An old sword cultivator who had lost everything began to incite his fellow losers. "After this fight, let's find a chance to put Chen Ping'an in a sack and beat him up!"
Someone said helplessly, "That guy's too clever. Who will end up in whose sack is hard to say. We could all chip in and hire a sword immortal to sneak a strike. That's more reliable."
So someone tentatively suggested, "I heard the sword immortal Tao Wen recently fell out with this second boss over some loot. And Tao Wen is famous for not giving face to anyone. Why not spend some money to get him to act? Otherwise, ordinary sword immortals are reluctant to strike for a few immortal coins, because this damn second boss still has a great sword immortal senior brother."
Another shrewd old sword cultivator chimed in, "Right, right. Immortal realm ones definitely won't act. Nascent Soul realm isn't reliable enough. So we need a Jade Pu realm. I think Tao Wen, that honest and straightforward Jade Pu realm sword cultivator, really doesn't see eye to eye with the second boss. If Tao Wen acts, it'll work! Besides, Tao Wen is always short of money; the price won't be too high."
Still, someone muttered doubtfully, "What if Tao Wen hasn't really fallen out with the second boss? Then we'll all get caught in one net by the second boss!"
For a moment, everyone was indignant and started brainstorming. Soon, someone proposed, "What about the sword immortal Yuan Qingshu from Posuo Zhou? Posuo Zhou is the territory of the Lesser Sage's line, which isn't too friendly with the second boss's line. Would that work? Is it safer than Tao Wen? Don't they say Yuan Qingshu dislikes the tavern for cheating customers?"
"Yuan Qingshu is probably still uncertain. I think Gao Kui is better. He's so close with Pang Yuanji; he's probably been annoyed by the second boss for a long time."
Suddenly, someone said mournfully, "Who knows if this isn't another dug pit, just waiting for us to jump in?"
Someone sighed through gritted teeth, "I can't live like this anymore. Now when I walk the streets, I see everyone as a shill for that black-hearted second boss!"
The rest fell silent.
Aside from this man who hit the nail on the head and ignoring some rabble-rousers, at least half of those who had spoken up with suggestions were indeed the second boss's shills.
On the city wall, Chen Ping'an still moved slowly and unhurriedly, dodging everywhere. Only when he couldn't avoid it did he block Yu Juanfu's punches.
She had thrown a hundred punches at him, and not one had landed.
That was Chen Ping'an's original intention.
And along the way, he was measuring the fastest punches and heaviest fists of his peers in the world, aside from Cao Ci.
At the same time, Chen Ping'an was also meticulously examining his own fist intent, filling in gaps. It seemed changeable, on the verge of breaking, on the verge of losing. But in truth, it was ordered between fast and slow, following his heart—everything under control.
So the moment Yu Juanfu stopped hiding her strength, used her fastest movement, and solidly landed the first punch on Chen Ping'an, that was when Chen Ping'an would truly strike back.
And he would answer with his fastest fist and his heaviest fist.
On the Sword Qi Great Wall, actions had no taboos. Both punching and mindset were unimpeded.
The sparring match with Yu Juanfu was different from the previous gate-guarding duels against Qi Shou or Pang Yuanji. Those had too many considerations—he had to be careful, painstakingly pursuing a win without losing, and the more he won, the more it would bring unexpected attention from the top of the city wall in the complex power structure. But here, facing Yu Juanfu, who was also an outsider and a pure martial artist, Chen Ping'an didn't need to think so much.
As he had said earlier to Nalan Yexing, he himself was curious—when facing an opponent with his fist intent gathered to its peak, once he completely let loose, how fast could his punches be?
When we martial artists throw a punch!
Who wouldn't want the martial artists of the world to see our fist methods and feel that the heavens are above, that they can only fold their hands and dare not strike?
A belated and conspicuous talisman boat, like an agile fish, wove through the crowd of sword cultivators hovering in midair on their swords. Eventually, it stopped just a few dozen steps from the city wall. The sparring between the two martial artists above the wall was clearly visible—two elusive figures like drifting smoke.
When Pei Qian finally saw her master, she lost all fear. She sat on the railing at the bow with the white goose, placing her walking staff across her knees.
Watching, she felt a complex mix of emotions.
This was the first time she had seen her master like this.
Since she had met her master, and then met him again and again, her master had never seemed so spirited.
No, that wasn't right—she was sure he hadn't.
Her master's heart and brow were free of worry.
Her master was simply a pure martial artist.
At this moment, her master was just Chen Ping'an himself.
Pei Qian was both happy and sad.
She placed her fists lightly on the walking staff. The dark-skinned girl's eyes shone with the brilliance of the sun and moon.
Cui Dongshan smiled faintly. Without realizing it, he gave a slight shake of his sleeve. A faint ripple spread—just enough to conceal a certain omen about her.
Near the talisman boat, an old sword cultivator piloted a giant sword. Behind him stood a cluster of little heads at various heights, left and right.
A child shook his head. "This Chen Ping'an, no good, no good. He hasn't even fought back after so many punches. He's definitely going to lose!"
One after another, the children joined in, speaking with pity and disappointment about the famous second boss.
You're practically one of us on the Sword Qi Great Wall! And you're going to lose to that outsider from Zhongtu Shenzhou? Aren't you ashamed?
The old sword cultivator just watched silently, smiling without saying anything.
Anyway, he wasn't the only one losing money. The gamblers on the city wall all had ugly expressions, their eyes as sharp as flying swords. Looked like everyone had lost.
A child turned his head and looked at the little dark-skinned girl on that strange little ferry. She seemed about the same age.
He asked, "Hey, who are you? I've never seen you before."
Pei Qian turned around, looking timid. "I am my master's disciple."
The child rolled his eyes. "And who is that disciple's master?"
Pei Qian hesitated for a moment, then suddenly beamed. "My master is the person on the city wall who throws a punch and wins!"
The child curled his lip and muttered, "So you're the disciple of that Yu Juanfu? I'd rather you be the second boss's disciple."
Pei Qian was taken aback. Were the children of the Sword Qi Great Wall all this foolish? Seemed they were nowhere near as good as that white-haired guy?
Thinking of this, Pei Qian quickly looked around. There were too many people; she couldn't spot that white-haired one from Taihui Sword Sect.
Good. Best if that white-haired guy had already left the Sword Qi Great Wall.
Pei Qian stopped looking. Better to watch more of her master's punching style.
Alas, it must be because her master was too outstanding—he had made many enemies on the Sword Qi Great Wall.
Alas, the sword cultivators had no vision. Hail the master's invincibility.
On the city wall, a few sword immortals riding clouds on their swords were the first to focus intently on the battlefield.
Then a few earth immortal sword cultivators who sensed something was off.
As for the other young sword cultivators, they were still in the dark, unaware that victory and defeat hung by a thread.
Yu Juanfu stomped the ground and shot forward like the wind. The moment she vanished, a loud bang erupted from her original spot, sending ripples in all directions. At a speed far exceeding her previous already-fast pace, she instantly arrived before the man who had taken three hundred and thirty-one of her punches without any real damage. A knee strike hit his chest, followed by a punch to his forehead. The punch snapped his head back. Yu Juanfu retreated immediately, using the rebound from the fist intent on his forehead and the feedback from her own fist aura colliding with his body. In an instant, she was more than ten zhang away.
Since her punches couldn't match a sword immortal's flying sword, she would cut through his defenses slowly like a blunt knife. That was her original intention. He wasn't in a hurry, and neither was she. She only needed to accumulate a slight advantage bit by bit. If she could land another ten such punches, it would be a winning momentum. Once the momentum was sufficient, the victory would be secured!
Just as Yu Juanfu's feet firmly touched the ground, she felt a violent shudder.
After one punch, Yu Juanfu was repaid in kind. A punch hit her head, snapping it back. To stop herself, she leaned backward, sliding backward face up, forcing herself not to fall. Not only that, but Yu Juanfu instinctively changed her trajectory to dodge the inevitable heavy strike of Chen Ping'an's next punch.
But in the next moment, Yu Juanfu did dodge—only to find that the figure in blue robes seemed to have been waiting there all along. It was a familiar feeling, yet strange. Usually, her opponents waited somewhere but didn't punch. But today, on the city wall, the opponent was different—no courtesy at all. A fist descended, striking Yu Juanfu, who hadn't fully straightened her back, so hard that her head hit the ground before her spine and feet.
Blood bloomed on Yu Juanfu's face like flowers.
Her eyes remained calm. She touched her elbow to the ground, spun her body, and flew sideways. Finally, she landed facing Chen Ping'an, knees slightly bent, hands crossed in front of her.
Another punch came straight in. But Yu Juanfu's ten-finger gesture, though not conspicuous, was not her own boxing technique.
It was a "divine hand" move she had worked out over these past few days, specifically to counter Chen Ping'an's fist technique—to break his fist intent and prevent it from forming a continuous line.
Cui Dongshan smiled slightly. "A bit clever."
But what truly concerned him was not the fight—which had no suspense in outcome—but everyone outside the battle: all the subtle changes in expression. The more expressionless or serene someone seemed, the more interested Cui Dongshan became.
After one punch, Yu Juanfu no longer stubbornly resisted as before. She leaned backward, hands on the ground, inverted her body, and when her ankles touched the ground, she exerted force, arching her waist and shifting several zhang to the side.
But she found Chen Ping'an still standing in the same spot. Where he stood, the sword qi dissipated. Sword intent and fist intent clashed, twisting his motionless, mountain-like figure like a slightly wrinkled painting.
Yu Juanfu didn't retreat but advanced. She would trade punches with you, Chen Ping'an!
She rushed forward, throwing a punch with unwavering determination.
But unexpectedly, as he approached, the man seemed to change his mind, not wanting to exchange punches. He spun his body, bent down, and turned, not only dodging Yu Juanfu's punch but also appearing behind her. One hand pressed on the back of her head, and then he ran at full speed, pressing her face against the city wall as he dragged her along.
Cui Dongshan said softly, "Senior Disciple, do you see? The peak of fist intent is not in throwing punches without restraint, but in being able to stop a punch, then throw it again, letting the punch follow your heart. When your heart is satisfied, your hand obeys. That is mastery—truly grasping the way of the fist. Otherwise, if that punch just now had kept its course and followed through, that woman would be dead or half-dead by now."
Pei Qian didn't take her eyes off the scene and complained, "Don't disturb me."
Cui Dongshan didn't mind. She seemed nonchalant, as if she hadn't remembered anything. But in truth, all the scenes she thought she had seen but not remembered, all the sounds of heaven and earth she had heard but seemed not to hear—they were all in her heart. Whenever she needed to recall them and use them, she would instantly remember.
Yu Juanfu sat on the ground with her back against the wall, looking up at Chen Ping'an. "There's a third match."
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "There's no third match. You and I both know it. If you don't admit defeat, that's fine. Wait until you break through to a new realm."
Yu Juanfu swallowed a mouthful of blood, not wiping the blood from her face. She frowned. "For martial artists, the more sparring, the better. Are you afraid Ning Yao will misunderstand?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid."
Yu Juanfu was speechless.
Only then did Chen Ping'an look up at the talisman boat. He raised one arm and lightly shook his fist, smiling. "You're here."
Pei Qian hopped up, the walking staff tucked under her arm. She stood on the railing of the bow and, imitating Xiao Mili, lightly clapped her hands.
Cao Qinglang walked to the bow of the ferry. The boy's smile was rarely so bright.
Cui Dongshan still sat where he was, hands tucked into his sleeves, bowing his head in a gesture of respect. "Student greets his master."
If we also added Zuo You, who sat cross-legged on a distant section of the Sword Qi Great Wall's city wall.
Then, today on the Sword Qi Great Wall—
The lineage of the Culture Sage, considered to have withered incense and negligible importance—
There was the great sword immortal Zuo You, the Seventh Realm martial artist Chen Ping'an, the peak Fourth Realm martial artist Pei Qian, the Jade Pu Realm Cui Dongshan, and Cao Qinglang at the bottleneck of the Cavern Realm.