Chapter 674: Endure It Well
Chen Ping'an and Nian Xin walked to a prison cage.
A middle-aged man sat cross-legged, his breath almost gone, withered as firewood, skin and bones, but his martial intent was soaring, strands of it condensing into substance, like countless tiny flood dragons coiled atop the mountain ranges of his body.
A genuine Far Wandering realm expert.
In the battles before Chen Ping'an came to the Sword Qi Great Wall, this pure martial artist from the Manhuang Heaven had killed six sword cultivators with his fists, including one Earth Immortal sword cultivator.
The man opened his eyes and asked, "Have you come to kill me?"
Chen Ping'an nodded.
The man glanced at the woman seamstress behind Chen Ping'an and said flatly, "I'll take my own head."
That ugly crone, neither human nor ghost, he knew he was no match for. Her methods were vicious and had caused him much suffering.
Chen Ping'an said, "A fistfight, to decide life and death."
The man sneered, "A pure martial artist from the Sword Qi Great Wall wants to use me as a whetstone? I'm afraid one punch from me, and you'll be clutching that woman's waist and crying in pain. Hah, too bad she's not much to look at."
Chen Ping'an said, "Senior Nian Xin, close the door. Open it when one of us is dead."
Nian Xin shut the door, and barriers of sword light appeared. Inside the cage were two martial artists.
The man stood up. "Refreshingly straightforward."
Chen Ping'an cupped his fists. "Haoran Heaven, Chen Ping'an."
The man paused slightly, then cupped his fists in return. "Manhuang Heaven, Golden Creek City, Hong Yin."
A Far Wandering realm expert and a Golden Body realm bottleneck martial artist threw punches almost simultaneously.
Inside the cage, fist force surged violently.
In an instant, they exchanged a dozen punches. Chen Ping'an mostly used his limbs to dissolve the opponent's attacks, defending more than attacking. Eventually, Hong Yin's leg swept into his waist, but Chen Ping'an's feet remained rooted to the ground, only sliding sideways over a zhang. Hong Yin stamped the ground and closed in, but Chen Ping'an turned sideways, raised a leg, bent his knee, and drove it into Hong Yin's abdomen. With a shift in force, he pinned Hong Yin to the ground with one leg.
Chen Ping'an did not press the advantage. Instead, he retreated two steps, placed one hand behind his back, and changed the other fist into a palm in front of him.
His fist frame sank slightly.
But his martial intent slowly rose.
Unharmed, Hong Yin slapped the ground and flipped upright. "What, pulling your punches?"
Chen Ping'an said, "I know your background, but you don't know mine, so I let you probe a bit. Now, I'll give you a hundred more punches to test my weight. After that."
Hong Yin twisted his wrist. All the joints in his body, including his spine and ribs, turned like a giant turtle rolling over. Fist force exploded, spirit and will poured forth.
He had indeed been probing earlier with his punches and exchanges. Now Hong Yin laughed, "For that kind of talk to have any backing, you'd need to be at the ninth realm."
The man had only heard that pure martial artists from the Haoran Heaven were flimsy due to their innate physiques.
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I haven't reached the Far Wandering realm yet. But on the battlefield, I killed Hou Kuimen, though the cost was great, and I still haven't fully recovered. But I'll tell you straight: when I fight an enemy, getting injured or not has never mattered to me."
Hong Yin paced slowly. Chen Ping'an stood still, not even shifting his gaze, letting Hong Yin walk along a short curved path.
As a very dominant Far Wandering realm martial artist, Hong Yin had naturally heard of that garishly dressed Hou Kuimen. He had never seen the man, only heard that he liked to wear bright red armor, a phoenix-winged purple-gold crown with two extremely long pheasant feathers, and was covered in heavy treasures from head to toe. So Hong Yin had always thought little of Hou Kuimen. As a pure martial artist, one should carry no external objects, only one's fists—like this young man before him, barefoot and with sleeves rolled up, clean and pure.
Hong Yin asked, "When martial artists from the Haoran Heaven fight one-on-one, do you all have to explain yourselves before making a move? Such peculiar rules?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I just want you to enjoy throwing your punches before you die."
He paused briefly, then spoke honestly. "You haven't fought in too long, your fists and feet are rusty, and you're too wary of the woman outside the cage. Your martial intent is far from its peak. What would be the point of beating you to death with a few random punches?"
Hong Yin said no more.
When martial artists exchange fists, the right and wrong only depend on how heavy the fist is and how high the technique is.
In the hundred punches that followed, Hong Yin attacked ferociously, his momentum like a whale swallowing a river—worthy of his name.
A knee strike smashed into the young man's chest. The young man in blue slid backward more than ten paces, merely forming a fist frame without punching, his spine vibrating like a dragon vein, and all the force dissipated.
At the same time, Hong Yin hammered a fist into the young man's shoulder. Seizing the moment of slight stumble, Hong Yin's martial intent surged, and he crashed into the young man, nearly sending him into the sword-light bars.
But the young man's gaze, expression, and even his martial intent remained almost deathly still, unmoving.
Hong Yin's final leg sweep caught the young man's neck, spinning him around several times. Finally, the young man planted one palm on the ground, head down and feet up, staying perfectly still.
Eyes tightly shut, his left hand formed a sword seal in front of him.
In the last few of the hundred punches, Hong Yin twisted his body and threw his long arm, sending the young man flying. The young man sank his qi, tapped the ground with two fingers, flipped several times, and kept changing his landing spots, just barely dodging Hong Yin's following punches. Finally, the young man landed lightly, exactly on the straight line between Hong Yin and Nian Xin.
The hundred-punch spar was over. Hong Yin wasn't unwilling to end it instantly, but his martial artist's intuition told him not to approach recklessly.
Hong Yin stopped, greatly surprised. Nian Xin was also curious.
As a half-loose cultivator from the Golden Armor Continent, a wandering practitioner for centuries, and a seamstress who specifically sought good "silk," Nian Xin was very familiar with pure martial artists from the Haoran Heaven. She had even fought a fierce, short battle with a ninth-realm martial artist.
Since when did a young man barely over thirty possess such a master's bearing? Moreover, the Far Wandering realm martial artists and mountain-peak grandmasters Nian Xin had seen were mostly overbearing. Even if they concealed their brilliance and returned to simplicity, once they started fighting, they were heroes who shook mountains and rivers—nothing like this young man's... casual, unhurried manner of throwing punches.
In the subsequent exchanges, Nian Xin noticed some clues. Chen Ping'an's choices were even stranger, as if he had changed his mind.
Hong Yin fought with great relish. Chen Ping'an still stopped at the point of contact, rarely dodging, mostly blocking.
After about half an incense stick of time, Hong Yin suddenly withdrew his fist and asked in confusion, "I've already switched my martial artist's true qi twice. Have you been using a single breath of qi to face me the whole time?"
Chen Ping'an wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb and answered out of context, "I'll come back in two days to spar with you again."
Hong Yin shook his head, took a deep breath, and said solemnly, "It's one thing to look down on Hong Yin of Golden Creek City—if a martial artist's skill is inferior, he doesn't deserve an opponent's respect. But are you, Chen Ping'an, also looking down on martial artists themselves?!"
Chen Ping'an was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Senior is right."
Chen Ping'an finally switched his pure true qi. His outer fist frame appeared loose, taking the form of an ape, while internally, he adjusted the great dragon, supporting it with Zhong Qiu's "Summit" fist frame, starting directly with the "Divine Man Beats Drum" stance.
The martial artist Hong Yin, before his death, wore an expression like a fish caught on a hook suddenly finding release.
As per the old rule, Nian Xin collected the corpse.
But this time, Chen Ping'an didn't watch. He just sat outside the cage and took a sip of wine.
Nian Xin, who was well-versed in many seamstress techniques, instead acted as if she had nothing to do, asking, "How did you develop this fist technique?"
Chen Ping'an, his back to the cage, said slowly, "The person who taught me this fist technique didn't like to explain principles. He only said a few words. One phrase I have never dared to forget: 'My fist is in heaven, there is no one before me.'"
Nian Xin nodded. "That martial artist has tremendous boldness."
After that, Chen Ping'an went to the next prison, which held a demon clan member—a Golden Core bottleneck sword cultivator.
This Golden Core bottleneck sword cultivator came from a sword sect called Lofty Peak Sect.
In the Manhuang Heaven, sword sects that relied on sword cultivators for their foundation were extremely rare, very different from the Haoran Heaven. It wasn't that any Upper Five Realm Sword Immortal could establish a sect there. Even if they raised the sect's banner, they couldn't hold it. The Manhuang Heaven was rampant with great demons acting without restraint, and they were most hostile to sword sects. A slap, a stomp—sword immortals and sword cultivators were the most precious, so the great demons didn't kill people, they just wrecked the mountain-and-river formations. After a while, who could withstand such torment?
Thus, every sword sect in the Manhuang Heaven that could survive the first hundred years of its founding became an extremely formidable mountain stronghold.
According to the secret archives of the Summer Resort Palace, a Sword Immortal from the Sword Qi Great Wall had once hidden in the Lofty Peak Sect. Later, his identity was exposed, and he was cruelly besieged and killed. The Lofty Peak Sect used several sinister secret arts to imprison the Sword Immortal's soul, forcefully extracting his sword techniques. In the end, the Sword Immortal was refined into a puppet with remnants of consciousness but still forced to obey orders. He had appeared in a siege battle and was granted release when beheaded by Li Tui Mi, the chief enshrined elder of the Yan family.
At this cage, Chen Ping'an had Nian Xin open the door. He announced his name and said only "Ask sword," then sacrificed the Cage Sparrow.
Unexpectedly, that Golden Core bottleneck sword cultivator immediately knelt and refused to rise, swearing earnestly that he would swear a heavy oath to pledge allegiance to Chen Ping'an in exchange for his life.
Seeing the young man unmoved, the sword cultivator became even more decisive. He was willing to damage his Dao foundation, strip his natal flying sword, and gift it to Chen Ping'an, only begging to continue surviving in this cage.
This direct disciple of the Lofty Peak Sect's ancestral hall was extremely unpredictable in battle. His natal flying sword, "Heavenly Sound," possessed two natal divine abilities. Where the flying sword passed, the sword itself was invisible, only an extremely subtle buzzing sound like a mosquito or fly. If the buzzing sounded near a person's ear, it was already quite significant; if it resonated violently within a person's qi apertures, it became a thunderous blast of tremendous killing power. Moreover, the sword's thunderous sound naturally contained the true essence of five thunders. The most insidious part was that an enemy had to locate the sword by sound, but once they heard the sound, the sword would rush into the cultivator's body even faster.
As soon as the sword energy moved, within the microcosm of the person's body, wind, thunder, clouds, and rain would all stir.
It was precisely because this demon clan sword cultivator's flying sword was so contrary to common sense that two Sword Immortals of the Sword Qi Great Wall had specifically targeted him and imprisoned him in the dungeon.
After obtaining the "Heavenly Sound," Chen Ping'an put away the Cage Sparrow. The Summer Resort Palace had some records regarding the sword cultivation secrets of the Lofty Peak Sect, but Chen Ping'an asked again, filling in many gaps.
Chen Ping'an exchanged a glance with Nian Xin. She immediately understood and walked into the prison.
At the same time, a tiny yin god left his body and traveled far, holding ten "embroidery needles" trailing different colors of light.
Knowing he was doomed, the sword cultivator cursed Chen Ping'an bitterly.
Nian Xin was fairly satisfied. The earlier fistfight with Hong Yin had ended too much to the martial artist's liking, and the old man's resentment toward the young Hidden Officer was too little—that wasn't a good thing.
Nian Xin's garment-sewing arts not only involved the three souls and seven spirits but could also gather resentment.
Chen Ping'an stood at the entrance, took another sip of wine, a small sip, very frugal. He couldn't be caught without wine when he really faced serious hardship.
Nian Xin fiddled with the sword cultivator's golden core and said casually, "When in office, attend to the duties. You can't have everything go your way."
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I've long made peace with these things. Killing demons on the Sword Qi Great Wall doesn't need a reason. Whether I'm the Hidden Officer or not, it's the same. What troubles me is only my own low realm. Now, facing any throne-seat great demon means death. Let alone them, facing a Nascent Soul sword cultivator is extremely strenuous. Facing a Sword Immortal is certain death. Becoming a Sword Immortal is just too hard."
Nian Xin laughed. "You're a five-realm sword cultivator at such a young age. I don't think it's that hard."
Chen Ping'an was speechless.
A seamstress rarely told jokes, and when she did, they were cold enough to chill the bones.
Earlier, Old Deaf Child had extracted three qian of essence blood from the loach spirit. That young Hidden Officer was inhuman when it came to trade.
Old Deaf Child had also asked for a few jin of flesh and blood from that Yeluoluo junior. Anyway, he had taken on a so-called master, a young boy who looked like he could cook. With that pot of good wine and a pot of the young Hidden Officer's so-called loach stewed with tofu, that would be a life of the gods.
As for the honest young boy's title of master, would Old Deaf Child take it seriously? Did he think he was some kind of Flying Ascension realm cultivator who had taken Buddhist vows?
The old Sword Immortal's actions were merely giving You Yu a stroke of fortune, at most a protective charm. If the boy couldn't take the opportunity himself, after a hundred years, life or death would be clear as day. If it were that clever fellow Du Shanyin, Old Deaf Child could already plan how to deal with him after a hundred years. That's why they say fools have fool's luck. You Yu was too dull, so Old Deaf Child was too embarrassed to make a move—it wasn't interesting.
And You Yu didn't take the master-servant relationship seriously at all, which was precisely the boy's true path to survival.
So, reading more was a good thing. As the young Hidden Officer himself said, never treat a Flying Ascension realm demon lightly.
You Yu was grabbed by the shoulder by Old Deaf Child and left the suffocating dungeon. They circled a few demon corpses and the broken golden bodies of gods. What came into view was a treasure land that gave the boy a peaceful feeling: a gurgling stream, and in front of a thatched hut by the stream, a huge grape trellis had been built, lush and green, covering acres. Walking through the green shade, one's clothes would even take on an emerald hue.
With every breath, You Yu felt refreshed. It was a mysterious sensation where even spiritual energy and sword qi seemed to have been refined. It allowed one to skip the qi-refining step entirely. The more this was the case, the less the cautious boy dared to breathe deeply. After all, he was a guest visiting; the boy dared not act rashly.
Old Deaf Child laughed. "Just breathe and guide the qi as you please. It's not like you're going to drink the river dry with a few breaths. A small fish swimming in the river can't drink it all."
Old Deaf Child stopped. "The master hasn't returned yet. Let's wait a moment."
You Yu nodded vigorously, very nervous.
The senior beside him had told him about the Sword Immortal's identity: the Executioner.
An ancient official title that had disappeared from the history of the Sword Qi Great Wall for many years, on par with the Hidden Officer.
Old Deaf Child hadn't gone into detail, only saying that the Executioner Sword Immortal felt guilty and thought he had no face to show himself.
From another direction, two people walked slowly along the stream. It was the faceless Sword Immortal and the boy Du Shanyin.
Du Shanyin had several small bags made of silver thread tied to his waist, emitting a golden light bright as morning clouds.
Old Deaf Child laughed. "No wonder."
In this land, the corpses of both demons and gods continually decayed, eroded, and peeled away in the invisible river of time. But sometimes, there were surprises among the golden bodies of the gods—piles of golden sand, or even rarer, fragments of golden bodies. When the young Hidden Officer had traveled here earlier, he had been unlucky and seen none. But the boy Du Shanyin, following the Sword Immortal on a journey, was returning laden with treasure.
That Sword Immortal would never actively try to break up the divine corpses. He just waited every day for money to fall from the sky, then bent down to pick it up.
Presumably, taking Du Shanyin on this long journey was also to test the boy's luck.
By the stream, a woman was beating clothes on a blue stone washing block with a pestle. Du Shanyin called out. She looked up abruptly, her countenance radiant, indescribably beautiful.
Du Shanyin was momentarily dazed. A young maid washing silk, carrying a bamboo basket, stood beside the clothes-beating woman, her bright eyes smiling. Seeing the boy's dazed expression, she laughed even more uncontrollably.
The Sword Immortal Executioner nodded to Old Deaf Child.
Only then did Old Deaf Child lead You Yu towards the grape trellis.
Under the grape trellis, at varying heights, hung exquisitely made porcelain cups, as if waiting for grapes to fall into them.
The cups were painted with twelve months of flower goddesses and twelve seasonal poems.
Old Deaf Child laughed. "In the Haoran Heaven, besides the female flower goddesses, there are also twelve male flower goddesses, all meritorious officials and darlings of the Hundred Flowers Blessed Land. Mostly immortals and literary giants, who, by chance, were inspired and wrote stunning poems about certain flowers that went down in history. A Liang once leaked the divine secret, saying these eternal masterpieces didn't come entirely by chance but owed much to the flower goddesses' subtle nudges—romantic nighttime excursions under the moonlight that make one envious."
The boy You Yu felt like he was listening to a book from heaven.
On the Sword Qi Great Wall side, Old Deaf Child occasionally went to the wall top but would pretend to be deaf and dumb, saying nothing. At most, he would exchange a few words if he ran into A Liang.
In fact, just from the Partridge Sky inscription and from Old Deaf Child's conversation with Chen Ping'an, one could tell this Flying Ascension realm great demon was quite learned.
A short, white-haired child, carrying a skeletal frame as white as jade on his back, ran swiftly on the opposite bank of the stream.
The white bones of the feet dragged on the ground, making a crackling sound.
It was clearly a fairy relic of the Golden Branch and Jade Leaf type; who knows where he had dug it up.
The Executioner, shrouded in mist, turned his head to look at that Outer Demon.
The white-haired child immediately stopped in his tracks and looked across the stream, grinning. "Just sending a small meeting gift to the two noble darlings of heaven, to congratulate them. I'll send one today and make up another tomorrow."
Old Deaf Child chuckled.
The Sword Immortal said nothing.
The white-haired child said solemnly, "I swear by the name of the Hidden Officer's grandson and Old Deaf Child's grandfather! I'm just peeking into their heart lakes and heart doors. Any sneaky moves, and I'll be struck by lightning from above."
He said aggrievedly, "Just a few glances, really just a few glances. It's been far too long since I've seen the sights of the Manhuang Heaven and the Sword Qi Great Wall."
This Outer Demon turned to look at the two boys. "My surname is Wu, the Wu of 'mouth sky' and 'great words.' My given name is Die, the die of 'endless chatter' and 'petty words that never end.' I, your senior, have no airs. Just call me my full name."
Neither Old Deaf Child nor the Executioner would underestimate this Outer Demon.
He was indeed an extremely annoying neighbor.
The white-haired child was about to press on when a blade of sword light flashed.
The white-haired child dropped the skeleton and ran. Each time he coalesced into human form, the sword light would shatter him. After several dozen times, when he was miles away from the thatched hut, the sword light stopped following.
The white-haired child hovered in the wind, filled with sorrow.
A sliver of sword light, just over an inch long, hung not far away.
That was the Executioner's flying sword technique. As long as the Sword Immortal wished, the sword light could pursue the Outer Demon for years.
The white-haired child raised both hands. "Little darling, go home. I won't bother you anymore. I'll go find Lord Hidden Officer."
And so he left.
In a flash, he arrived at the dungeon steps.
The sword light did not follow.
The "young child" with green snake earrings and a short sword walked slowly, greatly regretting that he hadn't managed to enter the heart realms of those two boys.
He viewed others' memories as one might view painted books and albums. Vague memories were like line drawings; the shallower the memory, the blurrier the picture. But profound memories were like color paintings, as real as the actual world, even down to the finest details. The Outer Demon's methods didn't stop there. He also had the technique of "writing with a brush." The higher the cultivator's realm, the greater the Outer Demon's power. He could even arbitrarily alter or paint over the scrolls treasured in one's heart door, making people forget things or suddenly remember them.
The reason the Lord of White Emperor City was a demonic cultivator deeply feared by the mountain-peak cultivators of the Haoran Heaven was precisely his mastery of this Dao.
But that Lord's "unreasonable" methods were many. This Outer Demon also longed to visit that Lord in the Central Earth Divine Continent and exchange Dao techniques.
But he couldn't escape this cage.
Time to find some fun.
After all, Chen Qingdu had already promised that as long as he didn't directly attack that young man but used other means, and given the previous test, "three strikes and you're out"—he still had two chances.
The white-haired child chose two targets: that fox vixen with mediocre charm techniques and a doomed Lower Five Realm demon cultivator.
Lord Hidden Officer was, after all, a man. Judging by his attire, he was also a scholar.
Among the great desires of life, the most lingering was sexual desire—the same for men and women. Among the various obsessions of people, the most binding was righteousness—no different for immortals or mortals.
That vixen came from a fox den in the Manhuang Heaven, but unfortunately had only seven tails and shallow cultivation.
The white-haired child entered the cage holding the fox vixen. Before she sensed anything strange, he was already inside her heart lake, freely "flipping through books" and browsing paintings.
After a moment, he swaggered out of her body, casting an illusion spell. He shook his head; it was too dreadful. No wonder that young man was unmoved.
The fox vixen still noticed nothing.
The white-haired child muttered to himself, "Next time you see that Chen Ping'an, return to your original appearance: plain face, no makeup, neat clothes."
"I'll also fabricate a tragic, sincere story for you. For example, you came to the Sword Qi Great Wall to meet your lover."
"Then I'll gift you an extra divine ability: practice the Color Refinement Technique using the method of a seductive corpse, and secretly build you a Romantic Tent. Then you'll have a slim chance of winning. Blame that kid's heart being too calm, his mind too strange."
No matter the material used to refine a seductive corpse's natal object, or the final form it took—whether a red gauze curtain, a canopy bed, or an embroidered handkerchief—it was uniformly called a "Romantic Tent," also known as "Tender Loft."
This Outer Demon casually occupied the heart door of a seven-tailed fox vixen and began to paint with a brush. Suddenly, he laughed.
Cultivators, "my fate is in my own hands"?
Weren't they overestimating themselves?
After fighting a life-and-death battle with a Nascent Soul cultivator who wasn't a sword cultivator, Chen Ping'an lay on the ground covered in blood, gasping for air.
Nian Xin tossed him a porcelain bottle, then started busy work on the side, saying, "Haste makes waste. Starting by killing Golden Core cultivators is the right approach."
Chen Ping'an said, "I need to find a place to stay here, somewhere I can rest and recuperate in peace."
Nian Xin said, "Then you'll have to find that Outer Demon. He's good at turning illusion into reality."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Since I can't avoid it, I won't."
Nian Xin continued cleaning up the mess. "We'll be starting work soon. Let me tell you a bit about the seamstress's craft so you can be mentally prepared and avoid unnecessary hardship."
Chen Ping'an immediately sat up.
Nian Xin said, "The work starts with carving eyeballs. But that doesn't sound pleasant, so let's start with something lighter."
Chen Ping'an smiled bitterly, could only nod.
Nian Xin spoke slowly. "According to the seamstress's rules, the human body's heaven and earth is divided into three meridians: mountain, water, and qi. Bones and sinews are the mountain meridians; blood is the water meridians; spiritual energy merging with the soul is the qi meridian."
Chen Ping'an said solemnly, "I beg Senior Nian Xin to go into detail, the more meticulous the better."
This could corroborate what Senior Li Er had said, greatly benefiting his martial arts.
The subtle points in the human body were like numerous passes, like a vast geographical map.
Nian Xin explained the details at length, speaking a great deal. Then she raised one hand and spread her palm; the skin grew very quickly, soon looking normal. "For example, the five fingers are the five sacred mountains, and the palm lines are rivers, winding and intersecting—this is the pattern of mountains and great rivers merging. If you look at the palm lines alone, you can see that heaven and earth are in one palm. Following their meridians, the internal organs are clearly visible. Otherwise, where would cultivators get the divine ability of 'holding the palm to view mountains and rivers'?"
Before Chen Ping'an could ask about the secrets of that divine ability—something he had long yearned for—Nian Xin changed the subject. She raised her palm vertically, fingers spread. "We can sew garments as Diagrams of the Five Sacred Mountains, or draw Thunder Rite Cloud Seals, or use the techniques of Imperial Edicts and Yellow Tablets to refine the Five Elements, or write Divine Pronouncements and Green Lyric Prayers. Just for the five fingers, I alone am proficient in six methods. It is said that our seamstress sect's founding ancestor was brilliant beyond compare, with no successor. He used the stacked formation method to fuse several secret arts into one, turning his hand to produce clouds and rain, with divine abilities no less than the ancient Wind Earl and Rain Master. He once flew to Mount Dragon-Tiger and, with just one palm, cast the Five Thunders Orthodox Rite, darkening heaven and earth."
Chen Ping'an tentatively said, "I once read an anecdote in a scholar's notes about someone who tattooed several hundred lines of poetry by a great poet on his body. Does that hide some seamstress's secret?"
Nian Xin was silent for a moment, then said, "He must have been out of his mind."
Chen Ping'an had to nod in agreement. "Indeed. That's what I thought at the time."
Nian Xin continued to explain the various secret methods and origins of the seamstress craft.
Chen Ping'an took out the Sword-Nurturing Gourd but didn't drink.
Nian Xin asked casually, "Why do men so love to drink? Especially cultivators—drinking interferes so much with cultivation."
"On the Sword Qi Great Wall, unlike our Haoran Heaven, even if you break through a realm, it doesn't mean you'll live long. How many Earth Immortal sword cultivators would squat by the roadside drinking wine and eating pickled vegetables?"
After this, such scenes would no longer exist in heaven and earth.
Chen Ping'an hesitated, thinking of her in his heart, and smiled. "A woman is like wine—you don't need to drink."
Chen Ping'an leaned back. He forgot who said it: a boy liking a girl is like drinking fermented glutinous rice wine—the alcohol is light, but the first taste can still intoxicate. When a man grows up and likes a woman, it's like drinking strong liquor—one careless sip can burn the liver and intestines. When an old man misses a woman, it's like warming a pot of yellow wine in the deep winter.
Nian Xin turned to look at him and teased, "You should say few such things to women in the future."
Chen Ping'an laughed. "Then I'll change."
He had never had sweet words except for Ning Yao.
Chen Ping'an closed his eyes. He knew the seamstress work in the dungeon couldn't be rushed, but he still wanted to leave soon.
At that moment, that Outer Demon was staring at a Lower Five Realm demon cultivator.
And on the Sword Qi Great Wall, a great battle was imminent.
The great sun shone on the wall top.
The old Daoist gently patted the sea of clouds beneath him, which was like the largest cushion in the world. With one hand, he beckoned to the sun hanging in the void. "I, the poor Daoist, have not yet fulfilled my merits, and my bag is empty. Truly a poor Daoist, so I must borrow some light."
The vast sea of clouds first scattered, then condensed into a host of golden deities. With a flick of the old man's sleeve, they landed on the battlefield.
On the front line, monstrous demons that had revealed their true forms collided with the golden divine bodies.
A monk draped in a kasaya shook his shoulders, shedding a robe of "lion insects" that had been refined into Buddhist scripture characters.
A Confucian sage sat solemnly. The sun was just right for drying books.
The book had a single character as its title, opening with explicit meaning, all revolving around that character.
The demon army besieging the Sword Qi Great Wall was countless.
That day, Chen Ping'an sat cross-legged outside a prison cage.
Nian Xin stood behind him, her hands clasped behind her back, staring at Chen Ping'an's eyes.
Her yin god was carefully carving the young man's eyeball with embroidery needles.
It had already been the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. Fine drops of blood had gathered and were seeping from his eye socket.
Nian Xin observed the young man's state of mind and said casually, "If you can't get through this check, then give up on the seamstress work. Don't close your eyes. If your eyeball moves even a little, all the previous work will be wasted, and you'll suffer the consequences yourself."
If he could endure, the seamstress had subtle means to heal the injuries.
After a moment, Nian Xin was slightly surprised. "Not bad. It seems we can do two things at once. For the eyeball, I'm using the most basic 'paste yellow' and 'kill green' methods, slowly stitching, mainly carving cloud seals, with the shallowest inscriptions. But what comes next, on your back, won't be so easy. I mainly use the 'chong knife' method, carving 'nine-fold seal script,' 'bird-and-insect seal script,' and 'droplet seal script' onto the various joints of your spine. These are all 'stripping clothes' techniques. The more important 'putting on clothes' technique is still early. If you think you can't hold out today, or if you think you can wait a little longer, speak up now and tell me plainly."
Chen Ping'an remained silent.
Nian Xin came behind Chen Ping'an, used both hands like knives to cut apart the blue shirt and skin together, then reached in and pulled out the entire spine slightly, very slowly.
She bent her fingers, gently tapped, and listened. Regretfully, she said, "You've let me down. There are so many hidden injuries? Why don't they show at ordinary times?"
Nian Xin casually put the spine back in place, a hint of reproach in her voice. "I won't apply medicine first. Get used to this little bit of pain. Aren't you good at enduring? Endure it well."
If Chen Ping'an could speak, and if he didn't need to maintain his withered heart state and the "dead water" condition of his soul, he would have wanted to wring this woman's head off.
In the dungeon, a building had appeared out of nowhere a few days ago. It was round above and square below, with only four pillars and no other cover.
It resembled the roadside pavilions common in the human world, but not quite.
Chen Ping'an walked slowly barefoot.
Inside, the view was open, though there was actually nothing to see.
The white-haired boy with green snake earrings hovered outside the building and asked, "What's wrong with you?"
Chen Ping'an didn't stop walking. "What do you mean?"
The white-haired boy shouted angrily, "What cultivator's heart realm is this broken up, like a battlefield?! It's made me hit walls everywhere..."
Chen Ping'an threw a slow punch and smiled. "By daylight there is king's law; by darkness there are ghosts and gods. Both light and dark are murky, but conscience remains in the heart. Heaven and earth, sun and moon are bright—what blame can there be?"
Nian Xin stood on the distant steps and reminded him, "Time to start work."