Chapter 651: Fifteen Years Unknowingly
At Oxhorn Mountain Ferry, it was no longer just the Great Li military ferries coming and going; more and more commercial ferry boats were taking off and landing.
Pei Qian's eyes sparkled—those were all immortal’s coins rolling into her master’s pockets!
This "long trip" was on their own turf, so the little girl in black beside Pei Qian, carrying a small shoulder pole and holding a walking stick, felt she couldn't be more imposing.
Zhou Mili was a little regretful that she couldn't stick two pieces of paper on her forehead, one reading "Right Protector of Fallen Mountain" and the other "Great Water Monster of Mute Girl Lake."
Chen Nuan Shu was not far away, chatting trivialities with Chen Ling Jun, who was about to set off for Northern Juzhou. Chen Ling Jun kept yawning as he listened.
Pei Qian crossed her arms, looked around at her master's splendid mountains and rivers, and gave a slight nod, very satisfied.
Zhou Mili whispered, "Chen Ling Jun is leaving. Shouldn't we say a few words? Maybe squeeze out a few tears—that seems more sincere."
Pei Qian rolled her eyes. "Did you eat the principles of Fallen Mountain as your bowl of rice?"
She freed a hand and patted the little dwarf melon's head, speaking earnestly, "My master said, principles are like a big white bowl, and other external things are the dishes put into it. As long as you don't lose the bowl, you'll always have food. So what are principles? I can't figure it out, and you, with your muddled little head, certainly can't either. So we just need to remember the mountain rules of Fallen Mountain, and we won't go wrong."
Zhou Mili frowned, but soon her brow relaxed. She understood. "If we talk to Chen Ling Jun, we'll have to give him farewell gifts. No way! Since we're already such good friends, let's skip the formalities!"
Pei Qian tugged at Little Mili's cheek and laughed, "What nonsense are you talking about?"
Zhou Mili grinned along.
Pei Qian stood still, took a deep breath, then began throwing slow, short punches, muttering to herself, "Fingers like a needle, fists sweep a wide area. Strike like shooting an arrow, withdraw like a flying sword..."
Zhou Mili asked, "What are you doing?"
Pei Qian continued her slow punches, serious as could be. "After the Mad Demon Sword Technique, I've created a set of peerless fist techniques. The mantra was composed by me. It's incredibly powerful."
Then Pei Qian started spouting nonsense. "Among the world's fist techniques, aside from my master's which is the strongest, there are two others that are also very strong: one is the self-taught Chaos Fist, and the other is the Fist of the Sky Bridge Sect, learned by stealth."
Zhou Mili, not stupid but still skeptical, asked, "What's so powerful about your fist technique? If I practice it, can I fly around?"
Pei Qian answered impatiently, "Only martial artists at the Far Traveling Realm can do that. I'm far from it—it'll take years at least."
Zhou Mili stamped her foot in frustration. "So long! How many sunflower seeds will I have to eat by then?"
Pei Qian sighed helplessly. "You think the Eighth Realm is easy to reach?"
Zhou Mili paused, hugged her walking stick, and scratched her cheek. "But you're Pei Qian."
Pei Qian beamed, stopped her punches, grabbed Little Mili's head, and shook it back and forth. "This little head of yours isn't big, but how come it's so clever?"
Zhou Mili wobbled her head for a while, then suddenly sighed. "When is the mountain master coming home?"
Pei Qian smiled. "Didn't I tell you? Over at the Sword Qi Wall, because my master spread the word, there are now many stories about the Great Water Monster of Mute Girl Lake circulating. That's another entire world! You should be secretly happy."
Zhou Mili started scratching her cheek again. "But I'd rather he stop telling stories and come back early."
Pei Qian made a face. "When my master comes home, will you treat him to sour cabbage fish?"
Zhou Mili wrinkled her face and said timidly, "Not a big pot, a small one?"
Pei Qian laughed, but also felt a little sad.
After growing up, it was hard to be like before, where big and small worries were like guests visiting the heart—they came quickly and left quickly.
Before, Pei Qian didn't quite understand why her master didn't want her and Bao Ping to grow up so fast.
Now, looking at Little Mili, Pei Qian understood.
Chen Ling Jun was about to board a cross-continent ferry. Pei Qian patted Zhou Mili's head. "Come on, let's say goodbye. Remember, my master said that if a friend is traveling far by immortal ferry, we don't wish them a smooth voyage."
Zhou Mili nodded vigorously. "Got it, got it!"
One silly melon named Nuan Shu, plus Pei Qian and Little Mili, all bid him farewell.
Chen Ling Jun felt a bit awkward, but beneath the small discomfort, there was some happiness—he just didn't want to show it on his face.
After Chen Ling Jun left, Pei Qian and the two little girls waited until the ferry passed through the sea of clouds before returning to Fallen Mountain.
Chen Nuan Shu turned and glanced at the sea of clouds.
Pei Qian said softly, "Don't worry, it'll be fine. Chen Ling Jun might seem unreliable, but he's actually quite clever."
Chen Nuan Shu smiled brightly. Pei Qian took each of the little girls by the hand.
Now Pei Qian was much taller than them.
She finally looked like a young girl.
Inside the ferry cabin, Chen Ling Jun had nothing to do, so he lay on the table in a daze.
Actually, the moment he stepped onto that Pima Sect cross-continent ferry at Oxhorn Mountain Ferry, he regretted it. He really wanted to jump off, sneak back, and hide somewhere—after all, Fallen Mountain now had plenty of land and territory. He could just find a spot and lie low. Wei Bo probably found him annoying anyway and wouldn't bother telling Old Cook or Pei Qian about it. After a few days, he could show up at Fallen Mountain again and make up some excuse—forgot to check the almanac for an auspicious day, worried about Yellow Lake Mountain, forgot to say goodbye to his friends in Jianghu at Imperial River... Actually, staying home to cultivate diligently and earnestly wasn't so bad...
On the table sat a large bamboo box. Wei the Great Mountain Lord had actually been generous for once and lent him a portable dimensional artifact.
Inside the box were many maps of Northern Juzhou, drawn by both mountain immortals and secretly copied from various government archives, along with a messy pile of local chronicles and several booklets written by Chen Ping'an himself—a collection of dos and don'ts. As Old Cook put it, the only thing missing was instructions on where to piss and shit. If Chen Ling Jun still couldn't succeed in his river-journey, he might as well drown himself.
Chen Ling Jun was still scared.
Back in the Imperial River in Huangting Country, he never liked moving. He had sworn brotherhood with the Imperial River God and they lorded it over the area together. After arriving at Fallen Mountain, he still refused to budge. Pei Qian and Little Mili occasionally went to Red Candle Town, but Chen Ling Jun only roamed around the nearby peaks of Fallen Mountain, enjoying the scenery, chatting nonsense with the old immortal neighbors, leading his black snake on a grand tour of the territory, carefree and at ease.
Ever since that blind old Daoist named Jia Sheng moved from Riding Dragon Alley to Yellow Lake Mountain to live in a thatched hut and cultivate, Chen Ling Jun often visited him. They hit it off very well. If bragging actually worked, the entire Haoran World would be their private garden.
But Chen Ling Jun now understood that the other party flattered him so much because of Chen Ping'an.
Chen Ling Jun didn't dislike this; in fact, he rather liked it.
No matter how good the atmosphere at Fallen Mountain was, there was still a distinction between close and distant, first come and later arrivals.
He and that silly melon Nuan Shu were considered the oldest "old-timers" of Fallen Mountain.
Later came Old Cook, Pei Qian, Shi Rou, the silly Cen Yuanji, the simpleton Yuan Bao, the dullard Yuan Lai (the biggest dullard being Cao Qinglang), and then Chen Ping'an had lured Little Mili from Northern Juzhou.
Sometimes Chen Ling Jun himself felt that guys like Wei Bo and Old Cook looked down on him, and he couldn't blame them for having high standards. It was really his own fault for being lazy and just wanting to drift through life, bragging and farting around.
More people, more fun—how great was that?
Going all the way to Northern Juzhou all alone to cultivate? For what hammer?
Bone Beach, Pima Sect, Mural City, Sect Leader Zhu Quan, the two nominal elders of Fallen Mountain, Mute Girl Lake, Liu Zhiqing, Spring Dew Garden, Cloud City, the Ji River, the Central Dragon Palace Cave Heaven, the westernmost mountain (whatever it was called), plus Lion Peak, Li Er and his wife, Li Huai's sister Li Liu, Little Bao Ping's brother Li Xi Sheng.
His master's friends: a Fire God Temple, Liu Jinglong of Taihui Sword Sect, his disciple Little White Head.
Was he setting out to pursue a bright future in cultivation? No, he was going door-to-door delivering gifts!
He had to jump off this ferry!
Chen Ling Jun packed his luggage and slipped downstairs to the ferry's first deck. But Wei Bo suddenly appeared near the railing.
Chen Ling Jun laughed. "Lord Wei the Great Mountain Lord, you're too polite. No need to see me off, no need!"
Wei Bo smiled. "The entire Northern Peak territory of the continent is under my jurisdiction—forgot?"
Chen Ling Jun scurried over to massage the mountain lord's arm. "How could I forget? Even if I had to pee, I'd hold it in, afraid to defile the splendid mountains and rivers of the Northern Peak!"
Wei Bo said, "The Northern Peak's Chu Mountain, located at the northernmost tip of Bao Ping Continent, I've informed the mountain god there to watch the ferry until it reaches the sea. You can jump off then, and I won't bother about it anymore. You can take your time heading back. Whether you go ashore in the Eastern Peak territory or Ganzhou Mountain, do as you please."
Chen Ling Jun was dumbfounded.
The prosperous trading city of Clear Wind City had remained peaceful for a hundred years, then another hundred. Dynasties changed, landscapes transformed, but this city built at the foot of the mountain stood unshaken. Every emperor and monarch treated the Xu clan with utmost respect.
Thanks to a great benevolent fate forged by their ancestor, the Xu clan possessed a fox kingdom worth half a blessed land.
Rumor had it that when the Xu ancestor encountered that fox immortal, she already had seven tails. No one knew if she had gained another since.
The fox-skin beauties produced by the Clear Wind City Xu clan were expensive, valued for their rarity, with demand exceeding supply.
They were a unique specialty of Bao Ping Continent. As cross-continent ferries to Northern Juzhou became more frequent, the Xu clan's wealth grew, especially in recent years when the clan head changed the ancestral laws and allowed the fox kingdom to engage in mirror-water illusions, doubling the price of fox-skin talismans.
The Xu clan hired master painters to create the Four Beauties, the Eighteen Ladies, meticulously engraved or copied, along with scattered fans and folding screens. Every release sold out instantly.
Some mountain immortals who didn't get along with Clear Wind City sneered, saying the Xu clan almost sold pornographic pictures. If that Xu Hun actually sold those, he'd be a real hero.
They deliberately disparaged Xu Hun as a man rolling in rouge and powder.
But that man was indeed a genuine fourth-tier military cultivator. With that strange warty armor, he was even more formidable, possessing outstanding combat power. Among those below the fifth tier in Bao Ping Continent, he was one of the few with exceptional killing ability.
In a private room of a restaurant in Clear Wind City's bustling market, a young man continued eating. A green-robed scholar had already put down his chopsticks and stood by the window, watching the bustling crowd outside. There were indeed many beautiful women.
Liu Chicheng fanned himself with a folding fan and smiled. "That couple from Clear Wind City—one devoted to cultivation, the other managing the household and making money—perfect match."
The young man just buried his head in eating. Liu Chicheng rarely touched his chopsticks, but he had ordered a whole table of dishes, most of which remained uneaten.
Liu Chicheng turned and looked at the young man, then asked with a smile, "Gu Can, you've never said why you wanted to come here, deliberately leaving behind Zeng Ye and Ma Duyi. Can you tell me now?"
Gu Can stopped eating to speak, swallowed, looked up, and said, "I have a friend who was almost beaten to death by a man named Lu Zhengchun. This Lu Zhengchun is a member of the Lu clan from Fortune Street. He's apparently doing fairly well with the Clear Wind City Xu clan now."
In the Pearl Dragon Cave Heaven, there were four great surnames and ten major clans: Song, Li, Zhao, Lu—all top-tier families.
But the Lu clan of the town had too many entanglements with a fallen dynasty, so their fate was the most miserable. After the Pearl Dragon Cave Heaven fell to earth, only the town's Lu clan achieved nothing at all.
Only one Lu Zhengchun had left town early on with a woman from the Clear Wind City Xu clan. The Xu family treated him well, giving him plenty of cultivation resources and even a status as an orthodox disciple of their ancestral hall, providing both face and substance for the Lu clan.
Liu Chicheng had no interest in that Lu Zhengchun. He was just curious. "A person like you—do you even have friends?"
Gu Can nodded. "I do have some."
Liu Chicheng smiled. "Actually, just one—Chen Ping'an?"
Gu Can shook his head. "He never treated me as a friend from childhood. The age gap was too big. It was the same for me—he's more like family. Not the same. As for that overly ambitious Liu Xianyang, he only got close to me because of Chen Ping'an. Otherwise, he and I were never on the same path. Not before, and certainly not in the future. Still, I guess you could call him a friend."
When Liu Xianyang returned from the Chunru Chen clan in Southern Bosa Continent, he would probably become a direct disciple of Ruan Qiong of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect. Back then, Liu Xianyang had left his hometown precisely because his ancestors were Chen clan tomb keepers.
There was one thing about Liu Xianyang that Gu Can admired most: he had a natural talent for adapting to any place, never suffering from culture shock.
As for himself, after arriving at Shujian Lake, he had even lost his greatest strength—patience.
Looking back at those seemingly glorious days on Green Gorge Island, Gu Can realized he had been walking step by step toward death.
Being young was no excuse.
Gu Can looked at the dishes on the table and continued eating with his chopsticks.
Liu Chicheng suddenly said, "When you go to White Emperor City later, you should cut off these relationships."
Gu Can maintained his composure, just eating, saying nothing.
Liu Chicheng didn't think he could change Gu Can's temperament. That would probably depend on his senior brother's teaching methods, so he changed the subject. "You said he's 'doing fairly well.' How well? Since he's the same age as you and from the same hometown, is he a Golden Core sword cultivator? Or an Nascent Soul qi practitioner?"
Gu Can said, "He's currently a fourth-tier qi practitioner. Within ten years, he might enter the Cave Dwelling realm. He handles a small part of the fox kingdom's business for the Xu clan. His cultivation isn't fast—it can be bought with immortal's coins."
Liu Chicheng closed his fan, tapped it against his head, and laughed. "Future junior apprentice brother, are you messing with me, or telling a joke?"
Gu Can was calm. He didn't drink wine, ate slowly, and chewed carefully. "If I have to flee every time I kill someone, will I ever have a stable place to settle in this life?"
Liu Chicheng chuckled and shook his head. "A useless waste like that in cultivation is worth your killing and running? I'm easygoing—just nod, and I'll take care of it. Xu Hun isn't even in the fifth tier—a small matter."
Gu Can countered, "What if it goes wrong? Why bother?"
Liu Chicheng was speechless.
Gu Can set down his chopsticks and smiled. "But if I really strike at a deadly enemy, I'll make sure there's no one left to collect the corpse."
Also, make sure others can't find fault.
As for other people, they fell into two categories: Chen Ping'an and everyone else. If a choice had to be made, forget the latter.
In any case, Chen Ping'an would never be able to completely distance himself from him in this life.
Liu Chicheng beamed.
This kid was more and more agreeable.
Acting as his protector was like a virgin bride getting into a bridal sedan for the first time, but he did it willingly and happily.
This even made Liu Chicheng consider taking him as a disciple.
Gu Can asked, "If I really become your junior apprentice brother, can I learn the most top-level techniques and divine abilities?"
Liu Chicheng couldn't help laughing. "White Emperor City is extremely rich. If you become my little junior apprentice brother, of course you can learn—choose whatever you like. But whether you succeed is another matter."
Gu Can said, "I'll learn everything."
Liu Chicheng pointed at Gu Can with his fan and laughed. "You're young and ignorant, talking nonsense."
Not that he was unaware of Gu Can's excellent cultivation aptitude. Otherwise, he wouldn't have considered taking him to the Central Earth Continent as a ticket to return to White Emperor City. But his senior brother's White Emperor City was not an ordinary cultivation ground.
Liu Chicheng had deep grudges against his senior brother, that was true. But setting aside those old grievances, his senior brother was truly the person Liu Chicheng respected most in this life.
After him came the Great Heavenly Master of Dragon Tiger Mountain, then Cui Chan, who had played that chess game with his senior brother.
Just these three.
Liu Chicheng couldn't help reminding him, "My senior brother's temperament is hard to predict. You might reach the heavens in one step, or you might become an ordinary mortal. Worse, you could lose several lifetimes. Don't take it lightly. My senior brother once watched a miserable wretch for six hundred years, grooming him as a potential closed-door disciple candidate. For that wretch himself, it was eight entire lifetimes used as a pawn for the final life as a closed-door disciple of White Emperor City. In the end, on the ninth life, for some unknown reason, my senior brother abandoned him. My senior brother excels at multitasking—cultivation, chess, running White Emperor City, artifact forging, taking disciples... There's almost nothing he's not good at, and he does everything calmly, with no leaks."
Gu Can nodded. "Then I've found a good master."
Liu Chicheng laughed heartily.
Gu Can stood up to pay the bill.
Liu Chicheng suddenly exclaimed in surprise, "What a beautiful girl."
Gu Can didn't pay attention.
Liu Chicheng clicked his tongue. "Rare, rare. She's someone important. That silver-white gourd—if I'm not mistaken—is one of the seven highest-grade sword-nurturing gourds."
Gu Can frowned, quickly walked to the window, and looked out at the young woman slowly leading a horse. She wore red clothes and had a wine gourd and a narrow saber at her waist.
It was Li Baoping.
What was she doing in Clear Wind City?
Gu Can said, "We won't leave in a hurry. Wait until she leaves Clear Wind City. If there's any trouble in the meantime, I'll owe you a favor."
Liu Chicheng asked doubtfully, "You know her?"
Gu Can was silent.
Liu Chicheng did some quick calculations, then suddenly cursed and quickly covered his nose. Blood still seeped through his fingers.
His expression turned grave—this was rare for the usually flippant man. He said in a low voice, "Don't get involved! Consider this advice from me to my future little junior apprentice brother!"
Gu Can stared at the retreating figure of the girl in red. "I have to get involved. If something happens, save her, and I'll take care of myself."
Liu Chicheng looked angry. "What are you after?!"
Gu Can closed his eyes and began calculating all the intelligence on Clear Wind City.
Liu Chicheng sighed, "Oh dear," leaned against the window, and said sarcastically, "Such a hard life I have."
Before going to the Yang family store, Zheng Dafeng stopped by a tavern. He had an old acquaintance with the liquor-selling woman there, but they weren't quite at the level of old lovers.
The woman was feisty; the townsfolk called her Aunt Huang Er. Her real name had long been forgotten.
Years ago, a drunken man knocked on a widow's door at night. She opened the door and smashed a cleaver at his head, nearly killing him. Afterward, she paid a large sum in compensation, but from then on, no men lingered on the walls telling dirty jokes or climbed over to steal clothes. Risking their "second brother" to lose their "eldest" just wasn't worth it.
Besides, Aunt Huang Er didn't mind dirty talk in the tavern—she gave as good as she got. Usually, it was the men who begged for mercy. When she served wine and dishes, letting drunkards touch her little hand was only worth a kick and a few curses. Good business. If a handsome young man came to drink, the treatment was different. The bolder ones wouldn't even get a glare—who was taking advantage of whom was debatable.
The tavern was thriving, always packed. Years ago, Master Ruan, who had gone from blacksmith to immortal, often came to buy wine here. Over time, Aunt Huang's liquor became the town's hallmark. Many outsiders came to bask in the immortal aura of the Great Li's chief offering, Saint Ruan. The shop's pastries from the New Year's shop on Riding Dragon Alley also did brisk business.
Zheng Dafeng stood at the shop entrance, troubled. With so many slovenly men around, Aunt Huang Er would probably be too shy to flirt with him. And now that the shop had expanded and hired two helpers, drinking here didn't feel the same as before.
Not like in the old days when business was slow. He was the big spender. When Aunt Huang Er saw him from behind the counter, she looked at him like he was her own man coming home. Every time, she would sway her hips, come around the counter, call him "Brother Dafeng," pinch his arm, or scold him in a low voice as a heartless ghost. Her calls made him melt like a peach blossom cake.
She insisted on clinging to his arm as she led him into the shop. What a heavy hidden weapon! It really hurt his arm. Every time he sat down, he had to rub it for ages before he could lift his wine bowl.
Seven or eight tables were all full. Zheng Dafeng decided to come back when it was less crowded. But then a table of local men called out. One of them waved. "Hey, hey, isn't this Brother Dafeng? Sit here. But let me warn you—you're treating today. You've mooched how much free wine at red and white events? Now you're guarding the gate for the mountain immortals—how grand! Sure enough, with money in your pocket, a man stands tall."
With a hunched back, Zheng Dafeng trotted over and sat on a long bench beside the man. He laughed. "Me treat? I'm saving up for a wife. Not like you, Baldy Liu, selling two ancestral houses and buying two big ones in the prefectural city plus a bunch of shops—what a big shot you are. Me treating? Wouldn't that be slapping your rich and noble face?"
"Baldy eyes" was a local saying meaning someone who doesn't see people.
The man surnamed Liu wasn't angry—he was used to trading barbs with Zheng Dafeng. A little verbal sparring was nothing; whoever got angry lost.
This man hadn't come to town much in recent years. He had sold his two large ancestral houses early on and wasn't sentimental. When he used to visit graves, he'd pass through, but later he couldn't be bothered even to visit graves. The road was too far. During Qingming, he'd burn some paper money by the roadside outside his big city mansion and considered it filial piety done.
The man lowered his voice. "Do you know that widow from Mud Vase Alley? She's something now—truly wealthy."
He gave a thumbs-up. "In terms of wealth, that pretty widow is top-notch."
Then he regretted. "If I had known, I'd have done more back then. Now I wouldn't just own a few houses and shops in the city—I'd own two or three streets with my surname!"
Zheng Dafeng poured himself a bowl of wine. Wine that wasn't handed to his lips by Aunt Huang Er herself couldn't taste good. He raised the bowl, toasted the whole table, and downed it in one gulp. The few at the table were about the same age as Baldy Liu, old neighbors from years past. They had all made fortunes in the prefectural city, living lives they never dared dream of. The first wives and later concubines fought all year long, plus some clever maids with ideas—everyday life was livelier than New Year's used to be.
When Zheng Dafeng toasted, only one relatively simple acquaintance returned the toast. The rest didn't move, pretending not to see.
Zheng Dafeng didn't care. He came to mooch wine; why bother with face?
He quickly poured another bowl, wiped his mouth, and grinned. "Not really sure. I wasn't that familiar with Mrs. Gu back then—you know that."
Baldy Liu teased, "I've always wondered—another pretty widow, Mrs. Gu from Mud Vase Alley, with such a soft temperament. Why didn't you go after her? You prefer Aunt Huang Er's type?"
Zheng Dafeng just smiled.
Another man on a different bench, sharp and mercenary—once known for his stinginess—asked casually, "Dafeng, I heard you're now hanging around with that kid from Mud Vase Alley? Look at you, sinking lower and lower. Back when you were a gatekeeper, at least you minded your own business. Now you're an assistant to someone a generation younger—aren't you ashamed? And judging by your appearance, you haven't gotten rich. How about I help you out? We're old brothers, after all. You still have that small rundown house on the east side of town, right? I can find a rich buyer in the city?"
Zheng Dafeng started pouring again and waved dismissively. "No, no. My little nest stays right where it is. Small as it is—if I fart facing east, the paper on the west window shakes. Not worth anything."
The man glanced at Baldy Liu, who immediately urged, "Brother Dafeng, the city nowadays has money just lying on the ground. Honestly, if a string of copper coins fell, unless it's gold or silver, I wouldn't bother bending over! If you sell that mud hut and settle in the city, what pretty wife couldn't you find? Besides, in the city, all us old brothers are there to help each other out. Isn't that better than guarding a gate?"
Zheng Dafeng just played dumb, neither refusing nor agreeing, dragging it out so he could mooch another drink next time.
In the end, the whole table lost patience with Zheng Dafeng and left without paying.
Zheng Dafeng called over a familiar face, who then called his own acquaintances to drink, and Zheng Dafeng prepared to slip away.
But the woman's sharp eyes caught him. "Brother Dafeng, are you short on cash, or missing something in your trousers? If it's cash, with our relationship, I can waive the wine fee. But if you're missing something, there's nothing I can do about that."
Zheng Dafeng kept walking, pretending not to hear.
Aunt Huang Er slammed the table. "Zheng Dafeng! Get back here! If you've got the guts to touch my tofu without fearing the knife, go ahead. But you dare to owe wine money? Did the Heavenly King give you the guts?"
The town's folk had always been simple.
Zheng Dafeng turned around, strolled back to the counter, and chuckled quietly. "Short on cash, always short. As for the other thing, don't you know, Aunt Huang? Your Brother Dafeng is full of vigor—never just for show."
Aunt Huang Er leaned against the counter, cracking sunflower seeds. "So why aren't you gambling anymore? Join the mountain, fall into a sow's nest?"
Zheng Dafeng grinned. "I gamble just for fun, never for money. Have you ever seen me win?"
Then he spoke earnestly, "Money won at the gambling table is like money beside a river—it comes and goes in sixty years. Mastery of a craft, money from skill, passes three generations. A bit of land, crops money, lasts ten thousand years."
Aunt Huang Er rolled her eyes. "Always pretending to be a scholar."
Zheng Dafeng glanced at her clothes and reached out. "Sister, what shop's fabric is this? Looks sturdy—let Brother Dafeng take a look."
The woman just cracked seeds, not dodging. She really didn't believe he'd dare touch her chest fabric.
Sure enough, Zheng Dafeng sheepishly withdrew his hand, pretended to wipe the table to save face, and complained, "Sister, I'm not nagging you, but you really should hire a hardworking helper. Look at this table—greasy. Even flies would get stuck. One carelessness, and you'll be crushed under two big mountains?"
The woman just sneered. "You dare call me sister? Count on your fingers how long it's been since you last visited my shop?"
Zheng Dafeng leaned on the counter, glanced at the noisy tables, and laughed. "What's the point now? You don't need my few bowls of wine."
As the hunched man turned to look elsewhere, her eyes reddened, but she quickly masked it.
It felt like just a blink, and many years had passed.
When she first opened this shop, she was a young woman, prettier than now, without crow's feet, her hands soft and tender. Back then, she'd nervously serve wine to customers. Almost every drunkard's eyes would roam to her chest, but one young man would also look at the bosom, yet he also liked to look at her little hands. He'd say many pleasing things, like lines from books—flowery, hard to understand—but they made her heart happy.
This man had helped her get through those tough early days, not just by drinking.
Back when she was at her most beautiful, she was too flustered by his words to appreciate them. Now that she was older and knew more about the world, she wasn't as pretty anymore.
She just felt that Zheng Dafeng was different from ordinary men.
His eyes and mouth weren't honest, but his hands were.
Only later did she realize that he was a truly honest man.
Zheng Dafeng turned around. "Same as always—put it on my tab. Oh, and give Brother Dafeng another bowl."
She dropped a bowl on the table, went to ladle wine herself. As she bent over facing the jar, she knew the man was watching her.
Aunt Huang Er poured the wine, leaned back against the counter, and looked at the man sipping his wine. She said softly, "Baldy Liu and his bunch are after your house. Be careful. They probably came back to town specifically for you."
Zheng Dafeng nodded. "Still, my sister knows how to care for me."
"I'm being serious!"
She emphasized, frowning. "Don't take it lightly. I hear those people have gotten rich and aren't particular about how they do business in the city. Money in good hands is a hero's courage; in their pockets, it's a demon. Your little house may be small, but it's in a good location. East of town is the Immortal's Grave, now turned into a Martial Temple. These years, how many high officials have come to burn incense and pay respects? What grandeur! You know that. But I also advise you—if you find a suitable buyer, just sell. Don't hold onto it too tightly, or the government office might come to buy it from you. Then the price will be tricky. If the offer is low, will you sell or not? If you don't sell, will life be peaceful?"
Zheng Dafeng hummed in acknowledgment.
So there was plenty of filth and annoyance in the marketplace—every household had its chicken shit and dog dung. But there was also plenty of cleverness and kindness. Every family had a few bowls of clean white rice.
The woman suddenly grew sad. "We're almost old."
Zheng Dafeng laughed. "True. Your boy is a scholar now. I hear he's got the nickname Little Xiucai? How about that—I never lied to you. That kid is prime material, a real study seed. The Spring Festival couplets at your tavern were written by him. Pretty good. Sister, you'll enjoy your blessings in the future. The true family heirloom isn't wealth—it's accumulating virtue."
Aunt Huang Er looked at him.
Zheng Dafeng pretended to be shy, hiding behind his wine bowl. "Sister, the look in your eyes is not quite proper. Brother Dafeng feels like he's walking out without clothes."
Aunt Huang Er was helpless.
She really had to thank him for teaching her child. In the early days, a young widow with a little brat in tow—she would have cut off her own flesh to feed and clothe him. When he grew a bit older, she couldn't bear to scold or hit him, so the child ran wild, even skipping school. She felt something was wrong but didn't know how to teach him. He would always promise to behave, then go down to fish in the river and catch snakes in the mountains. Then one time when Zheng Dafeng was drinking, amid a bunch of dirty talk, he slipped in a line: "Earning money requires skill; treating others requires generosity; but toward descendants, you cannot be generous." Aunt Huang Er took it to heart. A good, solid beating made the boy obedient.
Aunt Huang Er suddenly said, "Half-hearted, neither three nor four, five men six men, seven up eight down, nine out of ten—a coward."
This was something Zheng Dafeng had said while cursing in the tavern.
Not really sharp—too sour, cursing without sting.
But Aunt Huang Er found it interesting and remembered it. It was different from how women fought with scratches and curses, or how rustic men cursed.
Zheng Dafeng pretended not to get it and started lamenting. "A bachelor's sorrow, chilly. How poor? So poor the mice go hungry and move out. Mosquitoes and lice barely get a sip of wine. By the time I've saved enough for a wife, what girl would bother to visit?"
Aunt Huang Er laughed. "How old a girl?"
Zheng Dafeng glanced at the woman and grinned. "Age doesn't matter much, but certain parts still need to be big."
Aunt Huang Er threw a handful of sunflower seeds at him.
Zheng Dafeng dodged. A bowl of wine always has to be finished. He put down the bowl, patted his face, and smacked his lips. "Ah, drinking like a giant whale sucking in a hundred rivers, drunk like a jade mountain about to collapse. Sister, you're lucky to see this."
Aunt Huang Er snorted. "You're just a blockhead. Get drunk and fall into a latrine and drown, or eat yourself to death—whatever."
Zheng Dafeng said, "I'm off. I'll pay the money someday."
Aunt Huang Er suddenly asked, "Going on another long trip?"
Zheng Dafeng said, "Not too far."
That Lotus Root Blessed Land—close, it was at Fallen Mountain; far, it was indeed far.
Aunt Huang Er lowered her voice. "Haven't you suffered enough? What's so good about the outside world?"
Zheng Dafeng turned around and smiled. "I once read a line in a book: 'Aunt Huang's house, full of blooming flowers'—but it's not as good as Aunt Huang Er's."
Aunt Huang Er asked, "Can't you just not go? Keep owing the wine money."
Zheng Dafeng shook his head and left anyway.
The woman watched the hunched man gradually recede into the distance and early lost sight of him.
Zheng Dafeng arrived at the Yang family store to help out temporarily. His early-witted junior sister Su Dian and the dim-witted junior brother Shi Lingshan had both gone out to gain experience.
For now, only a member of the Yang family was tending the shop. Zheng Dafeng's skin had thickened over the years. Even if his master still didn't favor him much, he just stayed in the front shop and didn't go to the backyard to bother the old man.
As he neared the store, he quietly dispersed the smell of alcohol. He entered the store; the young clerk was dozing off. Hearing Zheng Dafeng moving a small stool, the clerk woke briefly then went back to sleep. The Yang family members had been annoyed with Zheng Dafeng for years and didn't want any association. A bachelor gatekeeper who went on a long trip, almost lost his life, and slunk back to continue gatekeeping—what big future could he have? If not for some comments from Old Master Yang, a scruffy man like Zheng Dafeng wouldn't even get to help out at the store, relying on his connection with the old man in the backyard.
The Yang clan had been unlucky in recent years, and with it, all branches of the Yang family had fallen on hard times. In the past, among the four surnames and ten clans, aside from a few who moved their whole families to the Great Li capital, those who kept some people in their hometown were all making waves in the prefectural city, coining money daily. So the younger ones with some ambition envied them and felt restless. Old Master Yang quietly felt cold at heart and didn't want to manage anymore—let his useless descendants do as they pleased.
The old master's only confidence was the medicine formula of Old Man Yang in the backyard.
But that business was handled by only three people across three generations, enough without worrying about discontinuity.
When there were many descendants, the patriarch liked to give more to those who truly achieved something. Those without money were kept fed—they wouldn't starve. Those who could make money only got richer.
Zheng Dafeng moved a stool and sat at the shop entrance. Sunbathing cost nothing—why not? Enjoying flowers and moon on the mountain, enjoying the bustle in the marketplace below—both were good.
Zheng Dafeng looked up at the sun. Did all things under the sky see everything?
He stared for a long time, just like he had as a child. Looking too long didn't sting his eyes; he didn't feel anything. Later, when he learned martial arts, he stopped thinking about it.
He withdrew his gaze and slapped his knees. "Last year I hoped for a good this year, but this year I'm still in a tattered cotton coat. This year I hope for a good next year..."
The young man at the counter muttered, "So annoying."
Zheng Dafeng turned and grinned. "Are you dead yet?"
The young man glared. "How do you talk!"
Zheng Dafeng looked puzzled. "Do I use my mouth or my ass?"
The young man slammed the table. "Zheng Dafeng, watch your mouth!"
Zheng Dafeng smiled and pressed his hand down a few times, speaking patiently. "Keep your voice down. For common folk like us, a table is for putting rice bowls on or placing incense burners. Everything else doesn't matter—like an abacus, no problem. So don't slap the table; it shows disrespect to the gods of heaven and earth. You can't do that."
The young man sneered. "Stop spouting nonsense from the old ways, you crippled hunchback—you're born a dog's life as a gatekeeper! Do you think this store is your own home?"
A sharp tongue stings worse than a horn.
But Zheng Dafeng's most practiced sparring wasn't boxing with Senior Brother Li Er—it was this verbal skill.
The town didn't have many people, but it had plenty of masters of the tongue.
Mud Vase Alley, Apricot Alley—they were blessed places full of talent.
Even that taciturn Chen Ping'an, during those boyhood years, hadn't unleashed his skills, but the technique was there, accumulating internal power day by day.
Zheng Dafeng was delighted. Su Dian was too stubborn, Shi Lingshan too simple. Finally, someone who could talk and chat. Exciting! He moved the stool closer to the threshold and chuckled. "Yang Shu, I hear you're always going to burn incense at the River God Temple on Iron Talisman River? Do you know the proper rules for burning incense? This is one of those things you need to follow the old ways. Do you know why you should hold incense in your left hand? And do you know that you're left-handed? That makes things a bit unfortunate, doesn't it?"
The young man named Yang Shu felt a little unsettled inside, but his face still showed contempt—he couldn't be bothered to respond.
Zheng Dafeng grinned. "At fifteen, love the neighbor's wife. At thirty, like other people's children. At fifty or sixty, admire other people's daughters-in-law. The Third Branch of the Yang family—quite the family tradition."
Yang Shu's face turned red. He grabbed the abacus and hurled it at that bastard.
The head of the Yang family's Third Branch indeed had a poor reputation on Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Lane—a wealthy man whose "belt was never tied."
Zheng Dafeng caught the abacus. "This is your Yang family's tool for making money—you can't throw it away. If it breaks, who pays? I'm a barefoot man; you've got a little money. Even if you splash dirty water on me, will it work? In the end, you'll have to pay. And you're about to wade into murky waters to earn ill-gotten gains in the city. In my opinion, better not. A family's rise or fall lies in propriety and righteousness, not wealth or poverty. Read more books. You can't, but have a few sons—there's still hope for descendants to glorify the ancestors."
Yang Shu's face turned ashen, trembling with rage.
Zheng Dafeng shook his head and raised a hand. "Don't fight me. I don't know my own strength. One punch from me, and you'll start learning Drunken Fist instinctively."
Yang Shu was about to go around the counter—not to fight, but to go home.
Then the curtain lifted and an old man said, "Yang Shu, you're arguing with a gatekeeper? Not ashamed?"
Yang Shu snorted, but having an exit, he still left the Yang store, though his steps slowed to maintain dignity.
Once Yang Shu crossed the threshold and disappeared into the distance, Old Man Yang, who rarely came to the front, stepped to the door. "Arguing with a waste? Does he understand human speech?"
Zheng Dafeng had already stood up, trying to straighten his back.
When the master took disciples, respecting the master and honoring the incense lineage—that was paramount.
Zheng Dafeng followed the old man to the backyard. The old man lifted the curtain and stepped through; Zheng Dafeng gently held it, then after passing, lowered it softly.
Old Man Yang sat on the steps of the main house, tapped out his tobacco pipe, and took out his waist pouch.
Soon he was puffing clouds again.
The thin bamboo pipe was a gift from someone; the tobacco leaves were given by that little brat Li Huai. Over the years, the pipe had changed from lush green to a light yellow from handling and smoking.
Old Man Yang said, "Just a small Lotus Root Blessed Land—what's the point of going?"
Zheng Dafeng said, "At least it's the Haoran World."
Old Man Yang glanced sideways at his disciple.
Too clever was never a good thing.
Zheng Dafeng sighed. "I'll listen to Master."
Alright, now he really was going on a long trip.
Old Man Yang said, "Once there, start over from scratch. The road will be harder, but if the road wasn't hard, too many people would walk it. There's a reason Fan Junmao became the Southern Peak mountain lord instead of you."
Zheng Dafeng just listened to the lecture.
Old Man Yang asked, "Why do you think the Confucians opened a fifth world just now, when that world had been discovered long ago?"
Zheng Dafeng replied, "To prevent the various schools of thought from hindering instead of helping on the eve of war, from fighting among themselves. Now that there's an extra world out of nowhere, let them fight over it."
Old Man Yang asked again, "Do you know why only the Haoran World can accommodate Daoists and Buddhists? In the Azure World, Confucian academies and Buddhist temples have a foothold?"
Zheng Dafeng's expression turned serious. This was a question he couldn't answer on his own.
Old Man Yang waved his hand to disperse the smoke and asked, "I once scolded the Three Teachings' saints as gluttonous beasts. Right?"
Zheng Dafeng nodded.
The old man smiled. "Just don't know which one will be the first to slap my face."
Now the master was willing to say more to him.
But Zheng Dafeng almost missed the bleak years when "the master said no more than ten words."
Zheng Dafeng suddenly froze.
Old Man Yang sneered. "Finally remembered? You've always thought you're not as smart as Li Er, and you've never accepted it."
Li Er had once warned Zheng Dafeng to think hard about why the master never spoke more than ten words with him.
Back then, Zheng Dafeng was in the dark, thinking the master just found him annoying and wouldn't say an extra word.
Ten.
The Tenth Realm of martial arts.
Back then, as a peak Far Traveling martial artist, he had traveled south to Old Dragon City, tended the dusty shop, met Chen Ping'an, then broke through—almost, just barely—to break two bottlenecks at once, jumping from the Eighth Realm directly to the Tenth Realm!
Old Man Yang sneered. "If you had managed to make me say one more word back then, you'd already be in the Tenth Realm. There wouldn't be all this mess now. You wandered east and west, consulted with Qi Jingchun, chatted with Old Man Yao—and what happened? Are you in the Tenth Realm now? Or the Eleventh? Hmph, multiply by two, and it's about enough."
Zheng Dafeng was more used to this kind of master.
But he rarely talked back. "Mr. Qi and Old Man Yao's knowledge is still excellent. It's my own poor comprehension—I couldn't learn the subtle points."
"Did I say you had good comprehension?"
Old Man Yang picked at some tobacco shreds, his face full of mockery. "In a house, what hurts the structure most? Is it when the window paper tears? When the door rots? Are those big deals? Even the poor households in Mud Vase Alley or Apricot Alley can afford a bit of patching. Take Chen Ping'an's ancestral home—a little kid with a wood axe, up and down the mountain once, and he could replace it all. You learn other people's principles well, think you understand them thoroughly, but it's just like pasting door gods and Spring Festival couplets—in a year of wind and rain, they fade."
Zheng Dafeng said, "It's changing the beams and pillars—a major overhaul."
Old Man Yang nodded. "Do you think other people's principles are that easy to learn? You have to dismantle the original pillars and beams—that's a major renovation of the heart's path. That's the true meaning of cultivating the heart—struggling with yourself. You have to endure."
Old Man Yang sighed. "Let's not go far. Take Qi Jingchun—in the Pearl Dragon Cave Heaven, he pondered for sixty years and still couldn't figure out a 'heavenly principle and earthly righteousness' Dao. Look at Chen Ping'an—do you think he understands many principles? Not many. Just a few. 'What kind of person am I?' 'How should I understand the world in my studies?' 'How should I establish myself in cultivation, survive in this world, get along with the world, and live better?' Just these three things, a few principles. Is it complicated to be a good person, one good deed at a time? Very simple. But is it easy to do? Very hard."
Old Man Yang could roughly guess the scholarly context of Qi Jingchun back then.
The Dao Ancestor once said: When the Dao is lost, virtue arises; when virtue is lost, benevolence arises; when benevolence is lost, righteousness arises.
Qi Jingchun was probably trying to solve this—maybe attempting to reverse the sequence, which was both sequential and not.
In fact, what Qi Jingchun pondered and worried about might have been even larger.
But it was all smoke under the bridge now.
Zheng Dafeng asked, "Then what about your disciple?"
Old Man Yang retorted, "The master leads you in; cultivation is up to the individual. Does a master need to teach a disciple how to eat and shit?"
Zheng Dafeng said, "I'll think it over once I reach that world."
Old Man Yang raised his hand, shook his sleeve, and threw out a miniature temple that had been refined and stored. The old man waved his palm—golden specks of light flashed and vanished, entering Zheng Dafeng's brow.
Zheng Dafeng stood still as stone.
Old Man Yang said, "Returning what belongs to you. Keeping it here doesn't bother me—I won't look at it anyway—but it's annoying."
Those golden lights were Zheng Dafeng's soul.
Zheng Dafeng stood up, bent at the waist, and cupped his hands. "Disciple thanks Master for teaching and protecting the path."
Old Man Yang puffed smoke.
Zheng Dafeng immediately sat down.
Standing was not respectful enough.
Zheng Dafeng turned to look. Soon, a young man in Confucian robes with spirited eyebrows walked in, carrying a bamboo backpack and holding a walking stick.
Zheng Dafeng stiffened his face.
The travel-worn young man quickly walked over to Old Man Yang, crouched down, and kneaded his shoulders, clicking his tongue. "Rest assured, rest assured—your bones are still strong, like a young man's. Getting married wouldn't be unreasonable. Dafeng, how do you even be a disciple? Why don't you help your master find someone? Is finding a wife hard for you? Is finding a mistress hard for you?"
Old Man Yang didn't mind.
Zheng Dafeng was used to it.
In this whole world, probably only Li Huai dared to treat the old man like this.
Old Man Yang asked. "Going on a study tour to the Piyun Mountain Forest Deer Academy again?"
Li Huai sat down cross-legged on the ground. "That's secondary. I'm going to spar with Pei Qian. Of course, 'spar'—we haven't seen each other for years. We've both accumulated some belongings. We've agreed to fight on the square outside the ancestral hall on Jise Peak. A great martial event in the jianghu! She went to the Sword Qi Wall. When we met at the academy earlier, she said she needed to sort out her treasures and we'd fight later."
Li Huai lamented, "Too bad Li Baoping is traveling alone in the jianghu. If I lose to Pei Qian, it's fine, but if I accidentally win, without Li Baoping as an arbiter, I'm afraid I won't be able to get off Fallen Mountain."
Zheng Dafeng laughed. "There's someone you're afraid of?"
Li Huai nodded. "Yeah, I'm afraid of Mr. Qi, Baoping, Pei Qian, and so many academy teachers—I'm afraid of them all."
Zheng Dafeng teased, "Are you afraid of Chen Ping'an?"
Li Huai thought seriously. "If he's around, I'm not afraid."
Fortune Street had Scholar Li Xisheng, who had traveled to Northern Juzhou; Li Baoping, studying at the Sui Cliffs and Mountains Academy; and Zhao Yao, who had gone to the Central Earth Continent.
Peach Leaf Lane had Xie Ling, orthodox disciple of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect; Tao Ya, the Wei family maid who went to the Great Li capital; and Lin Shouyi, who devoted himself equally to cultivation and scholarship.
Mud Vase Alley had Chen Ping'an, gone to the Sword Qi Wall; Gu Can, who had stirred up storms at Shujian Lake and then gone into hiding; Song Jixin, now a Great Li prince; and his maid Zhigui.
Apricot Alley had Ma Kuxuan, hailed as the leader of the continent's young geniuses.
Li Liu and Li Huai, siblings.
Dong Shuijing, who was in business.
The Yang family store also had Su Dian and Shi Lingshan.
Those with the best luck in town often had good bone aptitudes, like Li Huai and Gu Can. Back then, when the old locust tree shed leaves, Gu Can had actually gathered the most. Unnoticed, that little snot-nosed kid had filled his pockets. When he returned to Mud Vase Alley, Chen Ping'an pointed it out, and he found so many locust leaves in his pockets.
The one with the toughest fate was probably Chen Ping'an.
But all of this—the children and youths of the streets and alleys of the former Pearl Dragon Cave Heaven—nearly fifteen years had passed in a blink. For them to each have their own encounters, opportunities, and achievements wasn't smooth sailing.
Fifteen years unknowingly. Many of the town's children had already reached the age of capping (twenty), and those who were boys back then were approaching thirty, the age of establishing oneself.
(End of Chapter)