Chapter 715: A Heart Not of a Swordsman is Hard to Fathom
Chen Ping'an suddenly stood up, his field of vision expanded, and he respectfully cupped his fists towards a certain distant visitor.
With the Old Sword Immortal gone, he was now half guest and half host of the Sword Qi Great Wall, so naturally he needed to help receive guests.
Looking out as far as his eyes could see, an unexpected old senior appeared on the vast southern lands.
Chen Ping'an had no idea what divine ability the other party had used, making the meticulously set landscape restrictions of the Sixty-Year Tent completely null and void.
Once the gap in realms was too great, thinking too much was useless.
He truly envied that old senior who had gouged out his own eyes and cast them into the two worlds. With the heavens vast and the earth wide, where could he not go on a distant journey? Who could stop him if he wanted to return home? If he closed his door and refused visitors, who would dare come to his house?
Indeed, this was how one should climb the heights of cultivation.
After seeing this person abruptly appear, the Dragon Lord faced a formidable enemy, his mood turning several shades more serious.
A gray robe drifted onto the southern city wall, condensing a blurry figure from sword qi. The Dragon Lord did not speak, only fixed his gaze on the sole major exception in the Barbarian Wilderness World.
This eccentric old blind man, for ten thousand years, had kept to his own small territory, liking to drive taboo-breaking great demons and golden-armored deities to move the Ten Thousand Mountains, claiming he wanted to create a clean, unobtrusive landscape painting.
The Dragon Lord was wary of this man, but felt not a shred of reverence. In fact, the Dragon Lord had known the old blind man for a long time; they knew each other's backgrounds well, and had once been fairly good friends. But as their years grew long, they never became old friends.
Li Zhen was astute enough to know when to back off. Fearing that the gods' fight would cause trouble for mortals, he immediately flew off on his sword without a word, heading north all the way until he hid by the main gate. He bantered with the sword-holding man and finally asked Zhang Lu if he had any wine.
Zhang Lu, the great sword immortal sitting cross-legged on the hitching post, tossed a jug of fairy wine from the Rain Dragon Sect to Li Zhen, saying it was sent by Xiao Xun. "Drink sparingly; I've only managed to save up a little over two hundred jars, like a swallow gathering mud."
Li Zhen felt that all the customs of later generations on the Sword Qi Great Wall had been ruined by outsiders like A Liang and the Hidden Official. Now their swordsmanship wasn't particularly high, but they sure knew how to talk.
Li Zhen drank leisurely, curling his fingers and lightly tapping the cylindrical pillar shaped like a hitching post. "In front of and behind the gate, there are four pillars in total. In history, they've been used to tie up a dragon, an ox, a horse, and an ape. It's a pity we need to suppress this gate for now, or else that old fellow Yuan Shou, who's been coveting them for ten thousand years, would have definitely shattered one and taken the other three into his bag when he passed by here."
Zhang Lu laughed, "In the end, it's still because that paramour of Yang Zhi couldn't beat your master."
That Yuan Shou was one of the throne demons. On the battlefield, he wielded a long staff while flying on a sword, his arms as long as an ape's. The string of rough stone beads on his wrist were all majestic mountain peaks that had vanished from history in the Barbarian Wilderness World, first moved by the demon Yuan Shou using his innate divine ability, then meticulously refined into stone beads.
When Yuan Shou went to the Haoran World this time, he had already visited the southeastern Tongye Continent and the southwestern Fuyao Continent. Wherever he went, any mountain with an ancestral hall, big or small, was shattered with a single staff strike.
Li Zhen jumped onto another ox-hitching post by the gate, imitating Grand Sword Immortal Zhang by sitting cross-legged, taking small sips of wine as he figured out how to swindle another jug.
Zhang Lu asked, "Another moon has diminished in your home. When Sheyue went back and forth earlier, her aura was different twice. What's the matter? Did she fight with Chen Ping'an? She seemed pretty badly injured."
Li Zhen nodded regretfully. "Just took a slight loss. How powerful is Sister Sheyue? Dealing with someone ranked eleventh from the bottom is like a piece of cake. When she got truly angry, she beat the Hidden Official into kneeling and kowtowing, calling her 'grandaunt.' All his reputation ruined. Lucky not many saw it—just me and the Dragon Lord. And I'm the type to keep my mouth shut, bury things deep in my stomach, unless... someone offers to buy me wine, then I might chat a little more."
Zhang Lu smiled, "I shouldn't have given you wine."
Li Zhen said, "I hear you're an old acquaintance of Chen Ping'an? You've met many times?"
Zhang Lu patted the dragon-hitching post beneath him. "I'm just a gatekeeper. When outsiders come and go, don't they all meet me?"
Back when the Thirteen Controversies happened, Zhang Lu lost and was banished to guard this gate.
Li Zhen looked up at the sky, gently placing the wine jug on top of the pillar, then suddenly spoke with a psychic voice, grinning: "Guarding the gate, Brother Zhang Lu is right, but not entirely right. The fact that Zhan Kan ended up in your homeland is no accident. And that little dao boy casually throwing a cushion every day, sitting near this ox-hitching pillar to while away the time, is also done with a method and a reason."
Li Zhen turned his head, full of pity. "You always seem so unsettled, which is why things never end well for you."
To his surprise, Zhang Lu tossed Li Zhen a bottle of immortal wine stored on Luhua Island.
Li Zhen exclaimed joyfully, "I thought I'd never get to taste Grand Sword Immortal Zhang's brew again."
Zhang Lu said, "When Li Zhen speaks a few true words, it's rare—he deserves wine."
Li Zhen placed the full wine jug and the empty one on either side of his feet, uncharacteristically showing some melancholy, murmuring, "Remembering is worse than not remembering; knowing is worse than not knowing."
Only true men of insight and those who have attained the Dao truly fear the impermanence of the Great Way.
Zhang Lu smiled. "Looks like Chen Ping'an beating Sheyue has put you in a bad mood."
Li Zhen reached out, laughing at the great sword immortal who was drinking, "In the old days, wandering by the laurel tree, casting a fishing line to hook poems from the mortal world. Now I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, a land sword immortal drinking heavenly grace. How fitting. I'll trade you this doggerel for a jug of wine—don't let an old friend go without a broom to sweep away sorrow."
Zhang Lu waved him off. "Get lost."
Li Zhen sighed mournfully, had no choice but to open that jug of wine, tipped his head back, and conversed silently with the wine god.
He wondered what the old blind man was after by coming to the Sword Qi Great Wall.
If the old blind man and the Dragon Lord fought to the death, causing the riverbed to change course, chaos would only worsen.
Li Zhen laughed again. What did it have to do with him?
Li Zhen cried again. Why was he even here?
Zhang Lu glanced at the young sword cultivator. It seemed he hadn't gained any advantage from Chen Ping'an either.
The young Hidden Official, trapped in one place for long, hadn't lost his mind, but the free-wheeling closed-door disciple of Mount Support Moon was about to go mad.
Chen Ping'an didn't keep standing on the high city wall. He took a step forward, his form plummeting, intending to land straight down. But before his feet touched the ground, he was struck by an unexpected sword from the Dragon Lord.
That old dog Dragon Lord held a grudge.
Chen Ping'an had no choice but to shift his will, appearing within a character stroke on one of the large city-wall characters closest to the ground.
Trying to stay as close to the old senior as possible.
Speaking to an old senior from the highest point was too disrespectful.
Whether the senior minded was a matter of his magnanimity. Whether the junior cared was a matter of his upbringing and manners.
It wasn't just for the Old Sword Immortal and the old blind man. Chen Ping'an had walked through countless mountains and rivers, always behaving the same.
At the old blind man's feet lay a listless old dog, bored to death, lifting a paw to scratch lightly at the ground.
Chen Ping'an wished he could break through the Sixty-Year Tent's restrictions, so he could mentally call out to Senior Dragon Lord, "Come see your relative—the one on the ground."
The old blind man first spoke to the Dragon Lord: "No fighting. I just want to chat a few words with the Hidden Official."
The Dragon Lord nodded.
Though the old blind man had a foul temper, he always kept his word, trustworthy.
Then the old blind man tilted his head. "The dialect of the Sword Qi Great Wall, or the elegant speech of the Barbarian Wilderness World—which do you prefer?"
Chen Ping'an replied, "As Senior wishes."
The old blind man smiled. Chen Qingdu had always liked this kind of junior—outwardly accommodating, inwardly firm, seemingly easy to talk to.
Chen Qingdu had never been fond of speaking from the heart, since ancient times.
Just like A Liang, who had crawled and snuck all the way up the mountain in his early years, showing off at his door, saying that a man who liked to drink alone must have many stories.
Of course, besides boasting and flattering, saying both host and guest were men with stories, A Liang also wanted to swindle some old history and ancient tales from him.
The old blind man never let him have his way. As for the wine A Liang brought when visiting, why not drink it?
The old blind man suddenly kicked the old dog at his feet, cursing, "A Flying Ascension realm—no money and never seen money?! Or is there shit on the ground to eat?"
That old dog had almost dug up a lost magical artifact of decent quality from deep beneath this battlefield ruin.
It tumbled a few times, whimpered once, then simply lay down and didn't move.
Chen Ping'an kept his smile. Indeed, indeed—a mighty Flying Ascension great demon scrambling for heavenly treasures and earthly treasures with a mere Nascent Soul junior? Have some face, please.
The sickly old dog cracked open an eyelid, glancing at the young Hidden Official in his bright red robe. It had heard from those sword immortals visiting the great mountains that this young man was a master at picking up money. Old Blind Man, you really are blind—instead of scolding outsiders, you scold your own dog.
The old blind man spoke to the young man in the grand elegant speech of the Barbarian Wilderness World: "How did you know where Sheyue was hiding? She only appeared in the world a few years ago. Even Mount Support Moon kept it a secret. The Summer Shelter Palace shouldn't have her file."
"I gambled on a slim chance!"
Chen Ping'an didn't even bother with psychic speech; he said it outright: "I activated the minor, medium, and major heavens almost simultaneously, yet Sheyue remained calm and composed. She didn't even choose to use her innate moon soul to forcibly break my formation and exchange Dao losses with me. So she was practically handing me the answer for free. She was gambling too—gambling that I couldn't find her. Maintaining three formations at once consumes spiritual energy, while she could watch from the Heart Moon Pavilion. Why not?"
Chen Ping'an lightly tapped his chest with his fist, laughing. "Far away on the horizon, yet close before your eyes. What's closer than before your eyes? The inner landscape of us cultivators. We've all seen the bright moon, so we all have a moon in our hearts—bright or dim. Even just the residual reflection of a heart lake could be Sheyue's best hiding place. Of course, the prerequisite is that Sheyue's and her opponent's realms aren't too far apart; otherwise, she'd be walking into a trap. Facing someone like me, she could afford to be so arrogant. But if she faced you, Senior, she would never dare act so recklessly."
The old blind man nodded.
More meticulous-minded than Chen Qingdu at that age.
Among the many sword cultivators back then, Guan Zhao was the most thoughtful and planned ahead. The Dragon Lord only knew how to fight and kill, showing his sharp edge. Chen Qingdu, besides using his sword, liked to open his eyes and look—look at the world, look at the heavens. He wanted to learn everything. But when it came to brains and cunning, I'm afraid at the same age, this Hidden Official had more.
So bookworms were never any good.
The old blind man asked again: "What if Sheyue was willing to sacrifice ten percent of her moon soul to smash that strange flying sword of yours?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head, finally speaking with psychic speech: "She couldn't do it. I would have let her go. I would have withdrawn that Caged Sparrow, only keeping that Moon at the Bottom of a Well. At worst, I'd use the collapse of a Five Thunder Seal to exchange for her ten percent moon soul, to help temper my flying sword, Moon at the Bottom of a Well. Even then, the deal wouldn't be a loss—I'd still profit."
Using the pure essence of the bright moon in the sky to temper the Moon at the Bottom of a Well, honing its edge. Even now, just thinking about it, Chen Ping'an felt that if he ever met Sheyue again in the future, they could still give it a try.
In truth, whether he could keep Sheyue or not, Chen Ping'an didn't have a strong obsession.
Especially when, by breaking her moon with his flying sword and glimpsing some manifestation of the Great Way, he learned that Sheyue had hardly killed anyone in the Haoran World. This made his murderous intent even lighter.
Earlier, when Sheyue first stepped onto the city wall, he saw her as just an otherworldly demon from the Barbarian Wilderness World.
Of course, he would attack with all his might to kill her quickly, because he was still in the great battlefield, facing what felt like the entire demon army of the Barbarian Wilderness World.
But when the fight turned into a true one-on-one duel, Chen Ping'an immediately shifted his mindset.
Besides, he worried that Sheyue, in a rage, might return to the Sword Qi Great Wall in her full true form for a life-or-death struggle.
So in the end, he held back, only taking half of her moon soul.
Thinking of this, Chen Ping'an looked up at the sky. The sun, moon, and stars moved with regularity. Where Sheyue had originally cultivated was an empty void. She had plucked the moon down to the mortal world—a single bright moon, divided into twenty parts, and I got one. Very content.
If this had been placed in a medium-grade lotus root blessed land in his hometown, it would have been an extremely bright moon hanging in the sky—a full moon at Mid-Autumn, with flowers blooming and the moon round, the whole family together.
Every year on the fifteenth of August, the full moon like a great mirror, all the people in the blessed land facing the moon as if facing a mirror. Besides themselves, they could see everyone they wanted to see.
Of course, he had promised to give it as a gift to his first disciple to break through the martial arts realm. Chen Ping'an had no regrets.
Outside the city on the earth, the old blind man nodded again.
Although the Hidden Official's identity as a scholar was a bit annoying, a clever young man could never be wrong. If he could also hope for a better world, all the better.
In history, there was a scholar from a family in the Haoran World. He first traveled to the Sword Qi Great Wall, then came to the Ten Thousand Mountains. His seniority was not low, his cultivation acceptable. When he found the old blind man, he declared solemnly: "When we literati put pen to paper, we only write how the world really is. We only need to write all the miseries and pitiable people in this world. How the reader feels is not our responsibility. Whether the reader becomes more desperate and numb is none of our concern. We must make everyone know how unbearable and intolerable this world is..."
Hearing enough, the old blind man didn't care about consequences—slapped him half to death.
It wasn't that the old blind man was angered by his words. The Great Way has ten thousand paths; walk whichever you like. Not his son, not his disciple, the old blind man couldn't be bothered to interfere.
But coming to his mountain home, first breaking the rules, and coming empty-handed—you had to leave something behind.
The reason he was only half-dead wasn't from the old blind man's mercy, but because that scholar's founding master hurried over, saved his remnant soul, and took him back to the Haoran World.
Standing nearby, A Liang watched with glee, his face saying, "I did nothing."
Later, A Liang came back, surprisingly not drinking, and spoke a few human words. He said such acclaimed masterpieces, no matter how well written, still weren't good enough. It was an act of a coward, dragging readers into sharing the unbearable suffering.
The old blind man asked him at the time why he didn't write such books himself.
That bastard just leaned sloppily against the firewood door, running his hands through his hair, and said he'd already seen too many families who didn't write books with pens, but wrote with their lives in the human world—glowing and shining. Long chapters could be ten thousand years, short ones just a few decades.
Seeing the old senior lost in thought for a long time, Chen Ping'an couldn't help but ask: "Senior, have you come here today asking me to do something?"
The old blind man snapped out of his thoughts, shook his head. "Just came to have a look."
The old dog only dared to grumble inwardly: Old Blind Man lost his eyeballs ages ago—the hell he's looking at. He kind of missed that bastard A Liang; only when facing that guy did the old blind man have no way out.
Chen Ping'an suddenly made a deep bow.
The old blind man laughed. "What, trying to push me into doing more?"
Chen Ping'an straightened up. "I'm thanking Senior for your great disappointment, yet being able to endure it alone for ten thousand years."
An old saying goes: The mountains stand tall and majestic—it's heaven's unevenness from birth.
This old senior, who had essentially imprisoned himself for ten thousand years, had an even greater injustice in his heart.
The old blind man nodded, raised a withered hand to scratch his cheek, and showed a rare smile. "Good. I was almost tempted to slap you half to death. You're indeed smart enough to know your blessings. Otherwise, I suspect the Dragon Lord and Liu Cha would have come to trouble you."
Chen Ping'an smiled bitterly.
This old senior, whom the Old Sword Immortal had visited specially twice, didn't seem the type to joke.
The old blind man turned and left.
He really had just come for a look and a few words.
As for the Dragon Lord, the old blind man had nothing to say, and apparently the feeling was mutual. Old friends of yesteryear, now strangers.
The Flying Ascension old dog trotted obsequiously behind the old blind man.
The Dragon Lord also dispersed his form, returning to an empty gray robe.
Chen Ping'an suddenly called out: "Senior, how is A Liang?"
The old blind man didn't turn his head. "Drinking like a turtle under Mount Support Moon, having a damn good time."
Chen Ping'an felt both worried and relieved. It seemed he wouldn't expect A Liang to come visiting anytime soon.
The last thing Chen Ping'an saw—the landscape restrictions had reopened, but in his heart, he saw Mount Support Moon, far opposite the Sword Qi Great Wall. Mountains and rivers different, old friends unharmed.
He wanted to drink again.
Chen Ping'an sneakily took a jug of wine from his flying sword Fifteen, then furtively shifted it into a small world within his sleeve. Just as he brought the jug out of his sleeve to take a sip, the Dragon Lord struck with a sword, shattering both the jug and the wine.
Chen Ping'an was used to it. His form flickered and reappeared on the city wall. He imitated a student walking, letting his shoulders and wide sleeves sway as he loudly declared that stinky tofu was delicious, and if stewed with old dog meat, it would certainly be a unbeatable combo.
Chen Ping'an didn't realize that he couldn't see the world outside the Sword Qi Great Wall.
But the old blind man clearly "saw" the scene on the city wall.
The old dog, taking advantage of the old blind man's good mood, grumbled: "I didn't provoke him. First time we meet, and he's already thinking about my meat. Hateful, hateful."
The old blind man jeered: "You think you deserve to provoke the Hidden Official of the Sword Qi Great Wall? Who gave you the dog guts?"
The old dog didn't dare retort, only wagged its tail meekly.
A thousand miles from Mount Support Moon, on a patch of earth where the old blind man had stopped earlier, he had temporarily marked it as forbidden territory.
There lay a jug of fine wine. The old blind man deliberately left it here.
The great demons guarding Mount Support Moon didn't move the wine jug, turning a blind eye, letting it sit there alone.
Even though they had confirmed the wine had no special properties—just ordinary wine—still, no great demon touched it.
For ten thousand years, in the Barbarian Wilderness World, the strong were revered.
That old blind man, who had carved out his own territory, was one of the very few fourteenth-realm cultivators across several worlds.
Now, in the Barbarian Wilderness World, after Xiao Xun had walked through the ancient well abyss, there was one more—but she had merged with the world's qi to unite with the Barbarian Wilderness, not purely through her innate flying sword to unite with heaven and earth.
The fourteenth realm was too mysterious and unfathomable. No one could even ask where the difference lay between the two approaches.
In truth, one could ask A Liang beneath Mount Support Moon, but who dared to provoke him? Pour fuel on the fire, add frost to snow? Did they really think he could never leave Mount Support Moon?
Mount Support Moon and A Liang—it was both suppression and a delicate standoff of "well water not offending river water."
After all, A Liang himself refused to give way on that path to challenge Mount Support Moon.
A female great demon, who by seniority would be Li Zhen's senior sister, with the beauty and figure of a Haoran World beauty, arrived in the chaotic void beneath Mount Support Moon.
From a distance, she watched that seated Confucian scholar's dharma form, using a great number of golden characters as a cushion, looking like an outsider who had come to borrow the mountain for cultivation.
She couldn't understand why this man would make such a choice. The world's literary sea, Mr. Zhou, had once explained to her the true meaning of "people don't act for themselves, heaven and earth will destroy them."
So she understood even less why A Liang would destroy his own cultivation.
That slovenly man saw the female demon of Mount Support Moon and immediately sat up straight. "Sister Xin Zhuang, why are you still wearing the same makeup as when we first met?"
The great demon who went by the alias Xin Zhuang searched her memory, then frowned. "Fart!"
His own nonsense hit a wall?
A Liang was least afraid of such situations. With a face full of deep feeling, he said: "It seems Sister Xin Zhuang still remembers our first meeting vividly. That comforts my heart. How many good men are worth Sister Xin Zhuang remembering for a hundred years?"
Xin Zhuang sneered: "If you had chosen differently, how many swords would it take to hack me to death?"
A Liang looked a little embarrassed. That old woman sure knew how to talk dirty; even he couldn't handle it.
Xin Zhuang didn't catch the deeper meaning, thinking this man was again wandering in his mind, splitting his attention to control his sword intent, suppressing the chaotic void beneath them.
A Liang thought this was a rare opportunity, time to use his trump card.
A rare reunion. His handsome face unchanged, his swordsmanship even better—surely that sister had gotten used to it. So time for some scholar-beauty banter.
A Liang cleared his throat.
But Xin Zhuang coldly said: "Shut up."
This man had once traveled alone on his sword all the way to the Barbarian Wilderness World. Because he was always causing trouble, many great demons had seen his sword-flying posture.
One hand on his hip, the other loudly reciting poetry, calling it "the sword immortal and the poetry immortal sharing the same elegance." And all this while being chased by great demons bombarding him with spells.
A Liang sighed. A beauty who didn't appreciate romance was the most disappointing to a good man.
Xin Zhuang asked: "Now that you have such a realm, why don't you cherish it?"
A Liang said: "I can answer sincerely, but Sister Xin Zhuang must first listen to a few words from me."
Xin Zhuang nodded.
As expected, no surprise.
The man patted his knee with his hand, smiling as he recited poetry.
His smile was faint, but his voice was not soft: "This is my A Liang's original 'Three Farewell Songs.'"
"Hard Road to Shu, Invitation to Wine, Dream-Wandering over Heaven's Mother's Mountain and Parting."
"Pipa Song, Eternal Regret Song, Parting at the Ancient Grassland."
"Lament for the Prince, No Place to Return, Portrait-Ode Presented to General Cao."
"If not for the topic, I could have used 'Mudwork Mountain,' 'Bearing Firewood,' or 'Facing the Moon on the Hundred and Fifth Night'—they would've been just as good."
"Washing the War Horses, Presented to Officer Hua, Strolling Alone by the Riverbank Seeking Quatrains. Mm, maybe 'Watching the Swelling River at Three Rivers in Ten Rhymes' would be better."
"Good heavens, thoughts gushing like a spring, the wheels of a cart can't stop them. Impressive, impressive."
Xin Zhuang said: "Enough nonsense?"
Finally, A Liang nodded, his expression half-smiling, fists resting on his knees. He muttered to himself: "Good, a 'Jia Yi weeps, then the land is empty of men.' Good, a 'Drunk and fallen from a horse, do not mock; may the gentlemen bring wine to watch.'"
Xin Zhuang waited quietly for the answer.
Why did you, A Liang, not cherish a sword cultivator's fourteenth realm?
"Because I cherish this hard-won fourteenth realm quite a lot."
A Liang didn't play tricks, laughing: "But Sister Xin Zhuang, you're old enough, yet you haven't traveled far enough, so you don't understand. After all, not being a swordsman means the heart is hard to match."
Xin Zhuang said nothing.
Swordsmen or sword cultivators—every world admitted it.
But this man tried too hard to "pretend" to be a cultured man, which was truly tiresome. Why not just be your sword immortal?
Xin Zhuang had once asked Mr. Zhou: If the Haoran World mostly had people like A Liang, what would you choose?
Mr. Zhou smiled and said: Then I would not come to your homeland. And the reason A Liang is A Liang is because there is only one A Liang.
Legend had it that A Liang, with his single sword, had rampaged through the Barbarian Wilderness World several times to find Zhou Mi—the "Jia Sheng" who was once unsuccessful in the Haoran World and wept with ghosts and gods.
But Zhou Mi never wanted to see him.
A Liang suddenly stood up, his expression solemn, and loudly recited the words from books he read in his youth, whose great spirit he had grasped early.
"Gazing to the ends of the earth, roaming the wild void, a soul force that cracks the earth, making heaven lift its head."
"Clouds steam, dragons change, spring brings flowers to trees. Creation lies in me—in the heart or the hand?"
All of A Liang's words turned into golden characters as big as mountains, crashing into the abyss beneath the golden cushion.
The characters manifested golden dragons, spring breeze, tree-flowers, appearing in the white clouds, suppressing the surging evil aura.
A Confucian sage's righteous qi. Speaking with heaven's mandate, words follow the law.
From deep beneath the earth came the sound of heaven-shattering and earth-splitting movements, as if obstructed on the path, forced to retreat temporarily. But the residual momentum still slowly reached the golden cushion.
Xin Zhuang found it breathtaking.
The man ran his hands over his head, smiling at the female demon of Mount Support Moon: "Scholars, aren't they fierce?!"