Chapter: 697

Chapter: 697

Chen Ping'an stopped his fist practice and turned to look beyond the city wall.

Over a hundred zhang away, an unexpected visitor hovered in midair, standing on a flying sword.

It was Fei Ran, ranked first among the hundred sword immortals of Tuoyue Mountain, who went by an alias and preferred to appear as a green-robed swordsman.

Fei Ran smiled. "Good fists."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "Don't try to steal them. Have some shame."

This Fei Ran was cut from the same cloth as that Shou Chen—utterly devoid of any sword immortal's grace.

Fei Ran shook his head. "I really can't learn them."

He had previously followed the great demon Qie Yun to the Haoran world and, with military merit, traded with Tuoyue Mountain for a Reed Flower Island. Fei Ran's choice was somewhat unexpected; given his status, occupying half the site of the Rain Dragon Sect would have been easy. So many in the military camps guessed Fei Ran had taken a liking to the Creation Cave on Reed Flower Island, likely a hidden realm that past travelers had overlooked, and Fei Ran had simply snatched it up.

Chen Ping'an glanced at Fei Ran, then shifted his gaze. Several dozen li from the city wall, a blizzard of goose-feather snow was particularly magnificent. Unfortunately, blocked by the Dragon Lord, it couldn't fall on the city wall.

Fei Ran followed the young hidden official's gaze, turned to look at the snow, then looked back with a smile. "When I was young and studying under Mr. Zhou, I liked to browse those green-worded poems and wandering-immortal poetry collections from the Haoran world. The imagination was splendid, but unfortunately Mr. Zhou had high standards. When compiling poetry collections, he only took the exquisitely clever phrases; anything he deemed beneath him, he deleted outright. Among them was a single line about snow: 'Five giants brandish swords to cleave clouds and rainbows, three hundred thousand jade dragons die in battle.'"

Fei Ran spoke to the young hidden official in fluent Haoran world elegant speech.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "The full poem is: 'Five giants brandish swords to cleave clouds and rainbows, straight to the Milky Way beneath the imperial domain. Three hundred thousand jade dragons die in battle, their shattered scales wind-whipped, filling the sky.' That old Tongtian fox of yours only took half of it. Not much of a problem—his standards aren't necessarily high, but at least not low."

Fei Ran nodded. "So that's how it is. I stand corrected."

Earlier on the battlefield, Chen Ping'an had clashed with Fei Ran once—a contest of both mind and strength, but no clear winner. Besides, it wasn't a true one-on-one duel; both sides had held back too many cards.

In Chen Ping'an's view, people like Fei Ran and Shou Chen posed the greatest potential threat to the Haoran world. It wasn't just about their prowess in battlefield slaughter. After going through this great war, Chen Ping'an had truly come to understand a principle: sword immortals certainly had tremendous killing power, and great demons' spells were undoubtedly profound, but under the sweep of a vast tide, even they were insignificant.

And Fei Ran and Shou Chen, if they were willing to exert themselves mentally and physically, could help the various military camps and throne-ranked great demons of the Barren Wasteland world check for flaws and fill gaps. Ultimately, they could even succeed in changing customs and shifting loyalties, allowing the territories seized from the Haoran world by the demons to truly transform heaven and earth in a deeper sense. What worried Chen Ping'an most now was that the military camps were studying and pondering the detailed steps of the Great Li cavalry's southern march in Bottle Gourd Continent—how exactly they patched up the shattered lands and won over people's hearts—and then turning around to apply the same methods in Indus Leaf Continent or Fuyao Continent.

For instance, that Jiashen Camp. The boy in wooden clogs, who wasn't a sword cultivator, made Chen Ping'an want to kill him more than all the sword immortal seedlings like Li Zhen and Liu Bai combined.

The wooden-clogged boy, whose realm wasn't high, had once come up on the city wall, beside the Dragon Lord, wanting to review the entire battle with the hidden official, asking humbly as a junior. But Chen Ping'an hadn't paid him any attention.

With the Dragon Lord present, killing was certainly impossible. So what was there to talk about? More words meant more mistakes. After all, the wooden-clogged boy had no ambition for cultivating immortality and seeking longevity.

Fei Ran turned the tip of his sword, as if simply accompanying the young hidden official in admiring the snow scene.

Chen Ping'an spoke up. "That Mr. Zhou, hailed as the Ocean of Literature in your Barren Wasteland world, has had some bad luck. It just so happens that he shares the same name as the mountain master of a Northern Juju Continent academy. I've heard that Confucian sage has quite a temper. When you get back, have Liu Bai tell her teacher to be careful—Zhou Wenhai might get beaten to death by Zhou Shengren. If Zhou Mi ends up killing Zhou Mi, that would be a joke for the ages."

Fei Ran found it both amusing and exasperating. He shook his head. "Looks like Li Zhen was right—you really are bored."

A Confucian academy mountain master, killing the second-highest-ranked Ocean of Literature? Of course, now he was third. Xiao Xun had taken it upon herself to place a throne, forged from the corpse of a well-bottom Ascension Realm great demon, in the second-highest spot of the ancient well. But Mr. Zhou and Liu X had both taken no offense.

Chen Ping'an walked slowly, no longer practicing his fist stances. Fei Ran also followed on his sword, taking a different path but in the same direction.

Chen Ping'an asked casually, "That old Tongtian fox—what's its true form? There's no record in the Summer Resort Archives, and I never had a chance to ask the old sword immortal."

Although Zhou Mi was called the old Tongtian fox in the Barren Wasteland, Chen Ping'an was sure that second-highest throne-ranked great demon was no celestial fox at all.

Zhou Mi was too much like a scholar. So Chen Ping'an had always wanted to ask its true form and true name, but there was always something going on, and later he never got the chance.

Fei Ran said, "Avoid speaking the name of the venerable."

Chen Ping'an said, "I wasn't asking Zhou Mi's true name."

Fei Ran said, "Mr. Zhou may have some discarded true name and surname, but he has no true name."

Chen Ping'an replied, "I see. I stand corrected."

Of course, the other party might be spouting nonsense. After all, if Fei Ran weren't bored, he wouldn't come wandering here.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Has that Zhang Lu gone to Fuyao Continent to issue a sword challenge?"

Fuyao Continent had a deeply rooted sword cultivator sect with few members, but each one was formidable. Historically, none had ever come to the Sword Qi Great Wall to train.

Fei Ran shook his head. "Zhang Lu has been staying near the gate ruins all along, hugging his sword and dozing off. His choice is different from sword immortals like Xiao Xun, Luo Shan, and Zhu An."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "That's good."

Otherwise, Chen Ping'an would have felt sorry for the wine he'd given away.

Fei Ran smiled. "The Dragon Lord and Tuoyue Mountain won't give you that 'one in ten thousand' chance of reaching both the martial arts Peak Realm and the Jade Purity sword immortal realm simultaneously. I suspect that when you're in the late Mountain Summit stage or bottlenecked at the Nascent Soul stage, the Dragon Lord will summon another senior of equivalent realm—either Liu X or that old ape—to smash the city wall you're on, to wreck your physique and sword heart. In short, they won't let you break through too easily, and they'll prevent you from truly losing your mind and abandoning half the Sword Qi Great Wall to flee into the Barren Wasteland. So you're destined never to reach Old Blind Man's Ten Thousand Mountains."

"You don't need to guess that—Li Zhen has certainly already told the Jiazi Camp. I wonder, what grudge does he have against me? Why does he cling to me like this? With a mind like that, Li Zhen should just practice his sword well and challenge me heroically, like a real man."

Chen Ping'an clasped his hands behind his head, tilting his face slightly toward the sky. "As for the tenth martial realm, forget it. I wouldn't dare hope for it. You know how I reached the Mountain Summit realm. Besides, I've already taken two shares of your Barren Wasteland's martial fortune. As an outsider here, I've always felt uneasy. I wish I could give it back, but I can't. Fei Ran, with your reputation in the Barren Wasteland, don't you have any friends at the Mountain Summit realm? Can you stand by and watch me laze around here? If it were me, I really couldn't take it. Even if I didn't want to fight, I'd come under the wall and curse a few words."

Fei Ran laughed. "I don't actually have any friends at the ninth martial realm. I do have one at the tenth, but he went to Fuyao Continent. There's a tough battle to fight at the Landscape Cave. Qi Tingji and Zhou Shenzhi from the Central Earth are both stationed there. And it seems the Landscape Cave has two acquaintances of the hidden official—martial artists of the same age: Cao Ci and Yu Juanfu."

This young hidden official, probably to practice his fists, hadn't carried the Zhan Kan sword for a long time. But the hairpin in his bun was hard to ignore.

Even the Dragon Lord couldn't completely destroy it. Like that bright red dharma robe Chen Ping'an wore, it seemed to be a major life-bound item.

Chen Ping'an switched to a hands-behind-his-back posture. "Is Cao Ci already at the ninth realm?"

Fei Ran smiled. "I wouldn't know. I haven't paid much attention to the Fuyao Continent front."

Chen Ping'an nodded. On Fuyao Continent, battles raged endlessly on the mountains and below. In a generally peaceful world, it might seem less stable than the stagnant Indus Leaf Continent, but in times of chaos, the people's hearts were far more steadfast there.

Fei Ran took out a jug of Rain Dragon Sect immortal wine and raised it toward the young hidden official.

Chen Ping'an waved his hand, signaling Fei Ran to drink on his own. Then he shook his sleeve, which was empty. The sleeve-holding-a-universe technique, unique to upper fifth-realm cultivators, Chen Ping'an only knew at a rudimentary level. The Summer Resort Archives had some rough records, and since he had nothing better to do—the flow of time's long river was too slow for him—he had studied it with some care. He had barely formed a rough version, but unfortunately, he was on the city wall and had no objects to store in it. If he did, he could even put living creatures inside. So this sleeve-holding-a-universe technique and the palm-viewing-mountains-and-rivers technique were two immortal arts he had longed for over the years.

Earlier, during that heavy snow, he had collected quite a bit of snow in his sleeve. It was like having dumplings for New Year's—it made him happy. But then he had stacked a row of snowmen on the city wall. He hadn't expected that, since he wasn't far enough from the Dragon Lord, a gray-robed figure had sent a single sword light to shatter them all. The sword came not early, not late, but right after Chen Ping'an had used up all his snow to build the snowmen.

That old bastard—if he ever fell into Chen Ping'an's hands, Chen Ping'an would refine all his souls, then give them to Shi Rou to wear, as a companion to Du Mao's discarded body.

Chen Ping'an raised his palm, and five thunders gathered on it. The lines on his palm were like rivers and mountains. He laughed. "If you don't leave soon, I'll have to see you off. There's nothing special about this hairpin of mine. Tell the Jiazi Camp not to worry—there's no hidden trick."

Fei Ran hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I'll pass along the message."

Chen Ping'an laughed, said "Go on," and threw a Five Thunders Orthodox Technique.

Fei Ran simply dodged, not drawing his sword.

I offer a sincere gift of wine; you send me off with the Five Thunders Orthodox Technique. What a fine exchange of courtesies.

Fei Ran even had the presence of mind to bid the young hidden official farewell before slowly flying away on his sword. Fei Ran's temperament had always been one of taking things easy.

Chen Ping'an suddenly looked at Fei Ran and asked, "In that carefully selected poetry collection of Zhou Mi's, did you ever come across a popular wandering-immortal poem? Generally, it should be placed at the beginning or the end."

Fei Ran stopped and smiled. "I'd like to hear it."

Chen Ping'an tucked his hands into his sleeves, walked slowly, and recited the wandering-immortal poem in a loud voice.

"I dwell in the eternal house of the mortal world, the great sun rising east of the wall. I open my eyes and find my clear dream disturbed; I command the bright moon to fall within. I detain a cloud at the corner of the sky, to accompany the pine by the creek in my sleeve. Drunk, I ride a white deer and drive a green dragon; immortals meet me and beg for strong wine. I hang my official hat on the cassia branch in the celestial palace, and grab the golden crow to use as a charcoal basket. Alas, the immortals' thousand-year dream—once they dream of me, they miss the chance at eternal life."

After hearing it, Fei Ran's expression turned strange.

Chen Ping'an turned his head, his expression sincere. "What are you waiting for? If you haven't heard it, hurry up and memorize it. When you get back, let Zhou Wenhai bathe and change clothes first, then copy it down properly to serve as the closing poem of all wandering-immortal poems."

Fei Ran laughed. "Isn't the tonal pattern a bit too careless? Don't bully me for not being a scholar, Hidden Official."

Chen Ping'an looked regretful. "The Haoran world has a long history and countless elegant dialects and local tongues. What do you know about tonal patterns, rhyme, four tones, and harmony? Poetic thought is like fist intent. When the meaning is grand, it comes crashing down with overwhelming force. Future scholars, when they see the poem, will see it like a punch—they'll feel like they've been beaten over the head."

Fei Ran smiled.

Chen Ping'an nodded, raised his hand, and shook it lightly. "It seems Brother Fei Ran does have some learning and insight. Yes, you've seen through me. In this world, there are word-collected couplets and word-collected poems. This wandering-immortal poem of mine, like my palm thunder technique, is assembled from gathered fragments."

Fei Ran flew away on his sword.

Chen Ping'an leaned on the wall, continuing to leaf through that travelogue of mountains and waters. He had thrown it off the wall earlier but immediately regretted it and used the Shrinking Ground technique to rush to a character stroke in the city wall, catching the book as it drifted in the wind. He had read the entire book so thoroughly that he could recite it backwards.

Because the Items Within A Foot item was an external object belonging to this half of the Sword Qi Great Wall, if Chen Ping'an dared to take it out—even at the end of the wall farthest from the Dragon Lord—it would still invite a sword strike. So Chen Ping'an had no paper and pen. If he wanted to annotate the book, he had to use a wisp of fine sword qi as a pen, lightly "writing" in the blank spaces. Even though he wasn't at the Jade Purity realm, with his eyesight, the characters were clearly visible.

Each time he turned a page, he changed his reading spot. Sometimes he sat within a large character stroke on the wall, sometimes he walked on the wall, sometimes he hung upside down on the city wall's walking path, or instantly flew up to the sky above the wall. But the sky canopy now wasn't high—only five hundred zhang above the wall. Any higher, and the residual sword qi from the Dragon Lord's flying sword could genuinely harm Chen Ping'an's physique.

For some reason, the Dragon Lord had no interest in this book, which was an external object like the Items Within A Foot. He let Chen Ping'an read it to pass the time, never sending a sword light.

So Chen Ping'an had done a small thing in a snail shell, sneaking around. He refined words from the book to the outside of the book, carefully extracting each character from the text, first slightly refining them, then storing them in his sleeve. So when he came to read the book again today, more than two thousand common characters had already been stripped from it, leaving the pages with many blank spaces, broken and disconnected. Each character seemed like a little fellow forced to move, dragged by the collar, crying and babbling, forced to travel far from home.

Some rare characters that appeared alone often came in pairs, and for now, Chen Ping'an hadn't forced them to move.

Unfortunately, he hadn't managed to piece together a Hundred Family Names, nor had he been able to assemble a Thousand Character Classic.

This kind of small-scale character refining was, of course, of no practical use.

Even if he refined all three hundred thousand characters of the entire travelogue, turning every page blank, it would only mean that his sleeve containment had a few more lifeless little fellows. Chen Ping'an could never learn from Pei Qian or Li Huai to say he commanded an army of three hundred thousand. But if he were truly bored out of his mind, Chen Ping'an would array those refined characters in battle formations, shake them out of his sleeve onto the city wall, dividing them into two camps. With few characters, his "troops" were few—at most two or three dozen each time, all common characters that appeared multiple times in the travelogue. This was to avoid the Dragon Lord having a brain fart one day and sending another sword strike, wiping them all out again.

Chen Ping'an would let those little fellows, like black-clad figures, land on the city wall, swaying and stumbling slowly, like two gangs of naughty children in the market alleys, wrestling with little strength.

Today, Chen Ping'an suddenly became very diligent at character refining. He refined the "Chen Ping'an" characters in the book by the hundreds, more than a thousand of them. He refined each one and stored it away.

Then he carefully shook two characters out of his sleeve.

And then he commanded all those "Chen Ping'an" characters to swarm together, three characters standing side by side, forming one "Chen Ping'an."

So there were two characters: one was "Ning," one was "Yao."

It was Ning Yao.

It was as if she alone faced off against these "Chen Ping'an" characters—unfortunately, they weren't Chen Ping'an himself.

Then "Ning Yao" took a step forward. Five hundred "Chen Ping'an" characters began to wobble, one by one losing their balance like drunks, collapsing to the ground with a clatter.

Chen Ping'an crouched on the city wall, hands in his sleeves, watching this scene with a bright smile.

A bright red robe was sprawled on the ground.

Today, the young hidden official wasn't too lonely.

It was also the first time he didn't feel that the long river of time was flowing too slowly.

From the other half of the city wall, the Dragon Lord sent out a sword strike. And this time, unlike previous restrained touches, it carried immense force.

Even though the sword light had already swept across several dozen li of his city wall in an instant.

The sword intent was extremely heavy, the sword qi extremely long, spreading in a single line from where the Dragon Lord had unleashed it at the cliff's edge.

Chen Ping'an acted as if he hadn't noticed.

When the sword light had covered half the distance, Chen Ping'an stood up and began striking with the fists of a ninth-realm martial artist and his sword.

Time and again his body scattered; time and again he condensed in front of those little characters, blocking the sword light, punching again.

In the end, Chen Ping'an, as a Mountain Summit martial artist, thoroughly smashed that sword light with his bare fists. Then he came to the cliff's edge, stomped heavily on the ground, and manifested a Jade Purity sword immortal dharma form as tall as a mountain. Gathering the world's spiritual qi into a single sword, he held it with both hands and slashed toward the gray-robed figure on the cliff opposite.

The golden-eyed giant dharma form laughed heartily: "You've increased my fist intent! I must thank the Dragon Lord richly!"

The Dragon Lord waved his hand, pushing the young woman beside him, who was warming her sword intent and stabilizing her sword heart, to over a hundred zhang away. He came to the edge of the cliff, didn't seem to unleash a sword, didn't strike.

The giant sword in the dharma form on the opposite side shattered, and the dharma form collapsed with a roar.

The sword immortal dharma form reappeared, and the sword once again slashed down toward the Dragon Lord's head.

For a full quarter of an hour, the Dragon Lord stood unmoving. The dharma form's sword could never get close to that gray robe.

Within heaven and earth, countless sword qi fought against the young man.

After the dharma form shattered for the last time, Chen Ping'an finally stopped his pointless sword strikes. He flashed back to his original spot and gathered up the little refined characters.

Liu Bai, uneasy, came to the Dragon Lord's side at the cliff's edge and asked softly, "Did he really increase a fraction of fist intent?"

The difference between a Mountain Summit martial artist and a tenth-realm martial artist was like the difference between great sword immortals like Nalan Shaowei, Yue Qing, and Mi Hu of the Sword Qi Great Wall and those few Ascension Realm old sword immortals.

"He said that for the demon cultivators under his feet. He didn't increase his fist intent at all. He's just spouting nonsense to annoy me."

The Dragon Lord sighed, explaining patiently to the young woman beside him, who was actually clever but couldn't think straight when it came to Chen Ping'an: "At the height of the Mountain Summit martial realm, the martial artist's heart isn't too bad. Especially with this mad dog who loves to question the heart. If I want to ruin his good mood with a sword, he'll genuinely be angry, but it's hard to raise his martial artist's spirit any higher. It's not that easy to take another step forward. After serving as hidden official and personally witnessing those grand battlefields, that's already the cage of his martial path. It's hard for him to experience great sorrow or great joy anymore. So his path of the heart has actually already reached not far from the end of the martial artist's broken road—ahead of his realm and physique. Only life-and-death battles can forcibly temper the body."

Liu Bai nodded lightly, deeply convinced.

A bright red robe appeared at the cliff's edge without warning. This time, he had brought the narrow blade Zhan Kan, gently holding the hilt with both hands. He smiled mischievously. "Miss Liu Bai, do you think our senior Dragon Lord here likes to talk a lot? Since he doesn't, why is he so verbose? There's great meaning in that. You should think it over carefully. If you practice the sword without cultivating the heart, you'll fall in realm."

Liu Bai sneered. "You're not one bit verbose yourself."

Chen Ping'an said seriously, "I'm just afraid that Miss Liu Bai, after hearing the Dragon Lord's flimsy explanation, will say 'oh, oh, oh' and nod 'mm, mm, mm' while cursing in her heart, 'Damn that Dragon Lord old thief.'"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "Mountain immortals, if they start to half-believe, doubts arise, and demons breed in the dark. I'm helping the Dragon Lord clear his name. Can't you figure that out, Miss Liu Bai? Honestly, if we had a literary battle, I'd be afraid you'd smack your own head until it bursts and snap your own neck, and the Dragon Lord wouldn't be able to stop you. Today, regarding the Dragon Lord helping me increase my fist intent, do me a favor—don't go gossiping to Brother Zhou Mi."

Liu Bai's gaze gradually became resolute. She actually stepped forward, passing the gray robe, and said with a smile, "No matter what you say or do, I won't let your words affect my mind in any way, whether positive or negative. I won't care about anything. If you don't thank the Dragon Lord for increasing your fist intent, it doesn't matter. But I genuinely thank you for helping repair my sword heart—sincerely!"

The Dragon Lord nodded slightly. It should have been like this long ago.

Chen Ping'an was silent for a moment.

In fact, Liu Bai's mindset was correct.

But was it useful?

It might not be useful for her, but it was a bit useful for Chen Ping'an himself.

Chen Ping'an laughed. "Then do you know that a heart demon has arisen because of me? And your sword heart, repaired a bit by me, is now a new heart demon, one with even fewer flaws. Whether you believe it or not, and whether you ask the Dragon Lord, is up to you."

The Dragon Lord sighed. "Liu Bai, go practice elsewhere. He's using you to observe the heart and understand the heart demon."

No wonder this man clearly didn't regard Liu Bai as an opponent, yet deliberately came here time and again to leave some trace in her heart.

Chen Ping'an glanced at the gray robe. Out of so many throne-ranked great demons, why had they left this Dragon Lord on the city wall?

The Dragon Lord laughed. "Is the mad dog biting again?"

Liu Bai had already walked away dejectedly, not on her sword but on the city wall.

Chen Ping'an actually sat down by the cliff, overlooking the torrent of demon armies far below. Then he withdrew his gaze, leaned back, using the Zhan Kan knife as a pillow, and said to himself, "When I get home, children should tug at my clothes and laugh at my white hair."

The Dragon Lord laughed. "I don't have that kind of melancholy. And you can never return home."

Chen Ping'an let out a surprised "Eh," immediately sat up, and asked suspiciously, "How can you understand human speech?"

The Dragon Lord, unconcerned, asked in return, "Do you know why I haven't blocked the view here?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "It's like the two heavy snowfalls before—it's easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard from luxury to frugality. Actually, I've been waiting for you for a long time."

The Dragon Lord laughed heartily. "Just wait. In at most half a year, you won't even be able to see the sun or moon. Soon, I won't even need to block your punches or swords. From this perspective, you're actually more pitiful than Chen Qingdu."

It turned out Chen Ping'an could no longer see the Dragon Lord's gray robe. In fact, all sights on the opposite city wall had vanished from his view.

Looking down, the surging demons rushing toward the Haoran world were also invisible.

Chen Ping'an turned his head. The distant heavy snow falling slowly was still faintly visible.

Even if he couldn't see it later, what did it matter?

Little sorrows, the size of a grain of rice.

Besides, meeting in the martial world is bragging; reuniting in the martial world is saying 'hard work.' The road in the martial world is long, and there will always be a time to meet again. Someone will definitely say, 'Master, you've worked hard.' 'Mr., you've worked hard.' 'Little uncle, you've worked hard.' 'Chen Ping'an, you've worked hard.'

Chen Ping'an strode away, his wide sleeves fluttering, laughing loudly: "Are you stupid? Hard work my ass."

Fei Ran and Li Zhen came together to the Dragon Lord's side. Li Zhen asked, "Has he really gone mad?"

The Dragon Lord countered, "Ask yourself?"

Fei Ran smiled and asked, "That Cao Ci actually won three consecutive matches against him?"

The Dragon Lord nodded. "Surprisingly."