Chapter 720: Cannot Have Been for Nothing

Chapter 720: Cannot Have Been for Nothing

(Apologies for the late update. This is a twenty-thousand-character chapter.)

On Luo Po Mountain, there were no major events. What Zhu Lian and Pei Xiang described as a gentle breeze and bright sun, wind blowing through the mountains and rain striking the water, were merely things to delight the eye and please the heart.

That Luo Po Mountain enjoyed such stability was not, of course, because it stood aloof from worldly strife. Rather, it was because a grown-up, an elder, had, from various positions far and near, shielded Luo Po Mountain from wind and rain.

For example, the Sword Immortal Mi Yu, who had already traversed the battlefield of Old Dragon City, and the Nascent Soul Sword Cultivator Cui Wei, who was even now hastening to the front.

On the peak of Luo Po Mountain, even Pei Qian, who had once been only slightly taller than Zhou Mili, was now situated on the central battlefield of Golden Armor Continent. The person Pei Qian strove to catch up with was Cao Ci, a Tenth-Stage Martial Artist whom she regarded as her master’s martial nemesis. Pei Qian pursued excellence in boxing and sought to surpass her enemy in battlefield kills. Although she was still far behind Cao Ci and the gap remained vast, to Pei Qian, having learned the fist meant she had to do something with it. Thus, half of the imperiled Golden Armor Continent now knew that beside Cao Ci, aside from the famed genius martial artist Yu Juanfu, there was also a young female martial artist named Pei Qian. She was even more exceptionally gifted, her punches especially domineering, and she excelled at trading injury for death. On the battlefield, she actively sought out powerful demonic foes, and any demonic cultivator unfortunate enough to face her would find their corpse mutilated by her fists.

As the half-dragon-rising place of Great Li, the Northern March region had not yet directly clashed with the demon army. However, the three consecutive golden rains had already instilled fear in all cultivators. Among them, Hongxia’s transformation into a dragon was originally a momentous event, but under the current continental situation, it no longer attracted much attention. Moreover, Wei Bo and Cui Dongshan, both holding official positions in Great Li, had covered for Hongxia on their respective fronts. As a result, the registered immortal masters and wandering cultivators who had remained in the Northern March to cultivate were still unaware whether this newly emerged river-dragon was a secret guardian of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect.

As for Pei Xiang's relocation of the fox kingdom to Luo Po Mountain, the site chosen was the Lotus Root Cave Heaven. Since Xu Hun of Clear Wind City had to rely on military merits from Old Dragon City to repay Great Li’s karmic debt for the Ascension Platform, even if the matriarch of the Xu family in Clear Wind City had some suspicions, she could do nothing for the time being and could only wait in trepidation. The city lord Xu Hun, to outsiders, was seen as focused solely on cultivation and ignorant of mundane affairs, leaving power in the hands of a woman. But Pei Xiang and Manager Yan knew full well that the true backbone and authority behind Clear Wind City had always been Xu Hun, who “made the final call whenever major issues arose.”

Then there was Zhong Qiu, the old master who had gone to the Snow Wind Temple. You Youbian had already died once. Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang had successively obtained official identities in the Great Li border army and bureaucracy. In the Great Li dynasty, outsiders could only earn official positions through military merit—nothing but greater military merit mattered. Even children from powerful clans and military families like Guan Yiran and Liu Xunmei, from Yi Chi Lane and Chi Er Street, had fought their way out of piles of the dead. Even overseers like Cao Gengxin and Yuan Zhengding, descendants of the Pillar State surname, had first earned imperial examination fame before being thrown by their families into local officialdom to struggle. Where to start one’s official career might be influenced by family connections, but whether one could be promoted thereafter depended entirely on Great Li’s rules of merit.

Before descending the mountain, Cui Dongshan had given some guidance on Cao Qinglang’s cultivation. Cao Qinglang’s breakthroughs were neither slow nor fast—not slow compared to ordinary registered immortal masters from sect patriarch halls, and not fast compared to the likes of Lin Shouyi.

That was good enough. For those who took up cultivation, as long as aptitude was sufficient, there was no need to be too startling. Geniuses often died young, so stability was paramount. After all, back when Zuo You switched to sword cultivation and made a splash, it was precisely because his earlier studies had been too steady.

Nowadays, every time that Sister Cen, whom even Little Mili found adorably silly, returned home, her family would urge her to marry. Cen Yuanji’s mother, in particular, often spoke privately with her daughter, her eyes reddening. She felt that her daughter was so beautiful, with a decent family background, and not someone who would have trouble finding a husband. Yet she remained an unmarried woman, and fewer and fewer suitors came to propose. Many of the scholarly prospects she had fancied had become someone else’s sons-in-law.

Cui Dongshan sat on a bench at the mountain gate, listening to Cao Qinglang recount his youth. Cui Dongshan sighed with emotion. The Master had been away on a long journey and had yet to return, missing out on quite a few interesting matters.

Cao Qinglang had been diligent in his studies even in the Lotus Flower Cave Heaven, nurtured by Master Zhongqiu and assisted by Lu Tai. Later, after following Zhongqiu on many travels across the Righteous Qi World, he had achieved scholarly accomplishment, spoke with propriety, and was gentle and refined. Cao Qinglang’s only regret was that the Master had not been present for his coming-of-age ceremony.

Before leaving, Cui Dongshan felt both joy and worry. Joy because Cao Qinglang was a good child. Worry, because of something difficult to articulate—well, let’s set that aside for now. Second place.

What made him happy was that Cao Qinglang rarely spoke in a way that resembled the Luo Po Mountain style. After all, such a trend could not be encouraged. Previously, when the Master felt a bit guilty, he would at most insist that “this is the Luo Po Mountain ethos,” claiming that the credit could not be all his own; others like Cui Dongshan, Zhu Lian, and Zheng Dafeng had also made great contributions. Now that the Master had been away for years, if the younger generation of Luo Po Mountain, under Cui Dongshan’s watch, increasingly resembled the Master in their dealings, then he, as the student, would be unable to clear his name even if he jumped into the Jade Liquid, Embroidery, and Chongdan Rivers and swam through all three.

“Junior Brother, between Cen Yuanji and Yuanbao, which do you think is prettier? Let’s talk it over. We’re not gossiping behind people’s backs, and I, your senior brother, am not one to enjoy wagging tongues. This is just a casual chat between brothers. If you don’t say, it means you have a guilty conscience, and then I’ll have to openly suspect you.”

“Miss Cen has a better appearance. When it comes to practicing boxing, she is single-minded, whether others are present or not, which is remarkable. Miss Yuanbao has a tenacious character; once she sets her mind on something, she is extremely persistent. They are both good girls. But senior brother, let’s be clear: I’m just speaking my mind, don’t overthink it. I feel that Miss Cen’s boxing practice seems diligent but slightly lacking in agility. Perhaps if she had a greater ambition, her boxing would improve—for example, so what if she’s a female martial artist? So what if the disadvantages compared to cultivation are greater? She should still aim to make all male grandmasters bow in defeat after her punches. As for Miss Yuanbao, she is sharp and intelligent. If Mr. Lu taught her to be more magnanimous and empathetic, that would be even better. Senior brother, these are just my shallow opinions; you can forget them after hearing them.”

“Is that all?”

“What else?”

“Do you know who Miss Yuanbao likes?”

“How could I know that? Besides, it’s not good to speculate rashly.”

Cui Dongshan didn’t press further.

Yuanbao liked Cao Qinglang. Just as Yuan Lai liked Cen Yuanji.

The elder sister was full of worldly spirit, sharp and forthright, yet she secretly adored a scholar she rarely saw, liking him so much she barely dared to show it.

Yuanbao’s seemingly defiant actions, her immature attempts to make shocking statements—why? Since she was too shy to speak directly to him, she had to let him overhear many things through others.

The younger brother loved reading sage books and wanted to be a scholar. He had even secretly hidden a few books on imperial examination essay writing. Yet he liked Cen Yuanji, who was obsessed with martial arts, so much that in Luo Po Mountain, it was as if there were two moons—one in the sky, one in his heart.

Cui Dongshan considered himself too clever and too ruthless, adept at handling many “bad things” and resolving mishaps. But these beautiful things—he dared not touch them, afraid that if he used too much force, they would shatter and never be whole again.

After all, the human heart is not the moon in the water; the moon will return, and the water will remain. People age easily, hearts change; the heart of youth is hard to keep.

No matter. Leave it for the Master.

Once the Master returned home, it wouldn’t be so easy for him to go out and have difficulty coming back, would it? Luo Po Mountain would have centuries and millennia of good times. Direct disciples, further disciples, and the chairs in the Patriarch Hall would increase. Luo Po Mountain and its vassal peaks would be bustling with people. Further disciples would have their own further disciples. The mountain’s register of immortals would grow thicker, filling boxes upon boxes. Even the Master, who so loved to remember every person and every thing, would not be able to keep track. He would encounter young faces he couldn’t recognize or name.

Chen Lingjun, who had once sought cultivation only to settle a “two-fist affair,” would become, in the eyes of future young Luo Po Mountain disciples, one of the mountain-guarding immortals with immense magical powers. They would never imagine that the ancestor Chen Lingjun had once lingered at the foot of Piyun Mountain, unable to enter, and after slinking back to Luo Po Mountain, had nearly shed tears in secret.

Hongxia, the water-dragon who once dared not even approach Luo Po Mountain, would become, in the eyes of future Luo Po Mountain disciples, an unattainable “immortal in yellow robes,” with everyone saying that their ancestor Hongxia had such mastery over water.

Even Nuan Shu might no longer have the chance to busy herself with those trivial tasks. Perhaps a handful of melon seeds in Mili’s pocket would become more valuable in the eyes of Luo Po Mountain cultivators than Gu Yu coins.

There would surely come a day when every Luo Po Mountain disciple would proudly discuss their founding patriarch’s invincible fists and peerless swordsmanship, admiring their old mountain master’s vast network of friends, how he was a close friend to one patriarch, a sworn brother to another… When the young descendants traveled down the mountain or roamed the world, they would likely regale their own friends with tales of what their ancestor had done, where and when…

Then the rules and principles established by the young mountain master would grow ever more numerous and weighty.

Cui Dongshan’s task was to ensure that these future events became established facts—a continuous thread. The mountains would stretch, the rivers would flow, and the paths were already laid out. Future Luo Po Mountain disciples need only walk the road; whether any could forge a new path was even better. But in this process, there would inevitably be mistakes, hearts growing distant, and many large and small imperfections. All required people to teach, to protect the Dao, to correct errors. The Master alone could not accomplish everything.

Thus, the principle Cui Chan had imparted to Cui Dongshan—the reason that convinced Cui Dongshan not to act impulsively—had nothing to do with outsiders. It was a matter between Cui Chan and Cui Dongshan alone.

You think you are Cui Dongshan, no longer Cui Chan. That’s fine. Then I, Cui Chan, have already made Great Li and the Bottle Gourd Continent into a considerable “One.” Now you, Cui Dongshan, must make Luo Po Mountain into the next “One” that is enormous in the world.

Let us both question ourselves through the Dao. Consider that Cui Chan has lived over a hundred years more than Cui Dongshan. Give yourself at least another hundred years to measure strength with me. Which “One” is bigger and more indestructible?

Every time Cui Dongshan thought of this, he wanted to curse aloud. But he only ever managed to call the old bastard a “damned old turtle,” unable to say more.

What did that Sword Immortal Mi have to be annoyed about? Could it compare to me, Dongshan?! He wanted me to take him to the Jade Liquid River Water God’s mansion for entertainment?! Dream on, Sword Immortal Mi! I’ll make you green with envy!

After all, bonds of kinship determine proximity. Cui Dongshan considered himself quite protective of Sword Immortal Mi—after all, he was the future pillar of the Mirror Flower Water Moon. But for certain newcomers whom he didn’t think much of, he wasn’t so polite. He grudgingly accepted them as half-family, but being too polite would only create distance.

For example, the small object from Pei Xiang, the fox kingdom’s ruler, which Zhu Lian had added an inscription to—it had secretly become Cui Dongshan’s possession. He liked the phrase “How many years of sincerity?” So he gave Sister Pei Xiang a Storage-Wherever item that he no longer cared for. It was a fair trade by mutual consent, and also a small gift from Luo Po Mountain. Obtaining a Storage-Wherever, which even some Upper Five Realm cultivators might not have, made the fox kingdom’s ruler, who had seen plenty of immortal wealth, feel as if she were dreaming.

One day, when the old cook was preparing a meal in the kitchen, Cui Dongshan leaned against the door frame, grinning, and took out that inkstone-like small object. He breathed on it gently, showing it off to Zhu Lian.

Zhu Lian glanced at it and asked with a smile, “How many years of sincerity?” Cui Dongshan replied with a grin, “A lot, a lot. It took a Storage-Wherever to trade for it. It’s not just about money. Sister Pei Xiang holds high position and power, and she has to consider the fox kingdom. Don’t be upset, old cook, or you’ll break her heart even more.”

Zhu Lian laughed and said it was already beyond his expectations. His expression was calm and very sincere. Cui Dongshan then asked, “If Pei Xiang takes the initiative to apologize to you, what will you do?” Zhu Lian said he had his methods to ease her mind; what else could he do? Cui Dongshan admired the old cook even more—truly an impervious old cook. It wasn’t just that he had achieved spiritual cultivation; he had grown mature in heart.

At the mountain gate, Cui Dongshan also asked about some trivial matters concerning that Mr. Lu from the Lotus Flower Cave Heaven of old. The more trivial, the better. First, this wouldn’t arouse suspicion in the meticulous Cao Qinglang. Second, a few trivial matters, a few casual chats, would hardly reveal true character, but with enough of them, they could reveal the original heart better than grand deeds. Moreover, Lu Tai had been fairly sincere toward Cao Qinglang, so Cui Dongshan could get closer to the “true Lu Tai.”

Once Zou Zi deemed the time ripe and made his move, what were the likes of Liu Cai—one of the Ten Young Cultivators of the world—or the innate suppression of two sword-nurturing gourds and two life-bound flying swords? They were both specialized means to suppress the Master and, at the same time, distractions. A challenge to the sword was not merely about swords. The Master had long understood this and would later even use the Zhengyang Mountain as practice, questioning that heart with a single sword. Then how could Zou Zi, who alone stood above the entire “Speaking Earth Lu Clan” as a “Discussing Heaven Zou,” not know?

When the time came, Zou Zi would surely torment the former Lu Tai immensely, making him into Liu Cai the Sword Immortal in Zou Zi’s mind. Finally, he would torment the Master’s heart even more. All the sincere feelings, past grudges, and beautiful moments between them would become another life-bound flying sword forged by Zou Zi for Lu Tai—Liu Cai’s most formidable sword. The most troublesome part was that Zou Zi’s plan to “kill one with one” might not necessarily be to force Liu Cai to kill the Master. It might be aimed at the Dao heart. What on the mountain is called “death of the body and disappearance of the Dao” seems to be a matter for one person or one family, but often it involves two neighboring families. One only needs to separate the spirit from the body, and that’s enough.

Cui Dongshan rarely feared anyone so much.

A person who dared to use Shi Rou as a Dao arena and calculate against Lu Shen, saying “Lu Shen, you’re boring” and “I’ll amuse myself,” such a fearsome person was certainly tens of millions of times stronger than some woman who could only use a few red threads and move a continent’s sword destiny to hone her own great path.

But such momentous matters were not to be mentioned in front of Junior Brother Cao Qinglang. Cao Qinglang was still too young and lacked true trials.

Nevertheless, even just “chatting” with Cao Qinglang improved Cui Dongshan’s mood slightly. Within the same literary lineage, having a worthy successor, someone capable of shouldering great responsibility, was more worthy of Cui Dongshan’s expectations than who on Luo Po Mountain had reached a higher fist stage or who might step into the next mountain peak realm.

The junior brother beside him, who seemed to make his little bamboo chair smaller every year—once a slightly thin young scholar in a blue robe in his hometown—was now a young Confucian scholar with a face as fair as jade.

Among the direct disciples of the Wen Sheng lineage, aside from Jun Qian, and including the Master, their luck with women was actually not bad—quite good, in fact.

When it came to Cao Qinglang, even Cui Dongshan wasn’t sure. After all, no matter how good one’s luck, one still had to awaken to it! Otherwise, like Zuo You’s blockhead, even if the Old Man under the Moon visited diligently, he would just smash the red threads every time, or drag the red threads toward his fellow disciples and feel smug about it, thinking he understood everything. When the master or fellow disciples see that, what can they do?

Cui Dongshan’s casual chat with Cao Qinglang was actually a temporary farewell to Luo Po Mountain.

As a white cloud rode the wind on a long journey, he couldn’t help but look back at the beautiful scenery.

Let’s go, let’s go. If I look a few more times, I’ll really want to go back and crack more melon seeds.

With the old cook and the law-enforcer Changming on the mountain, he could rest easy. Outside the mountain, Brother Xianyang was also someone to trust.

What truly made Cui Dongshan trust Liu Xianyang wasn’t the Golden Core sword cultivation realm he had cultivated in dreams, but the words: “Can I take a distant look at Liu Cai?”

And after looking? Of course, Liu Xianyang would go to kill in dreams! Liu Xianyang didn’t ask about the cause and effect at all, nor did he ask about the price to be paid. He even set aside his identity as a Confucian scholar well-versed in sage books!

Once you’ve been through a life-and-death matter at the gates of hell and tasted great bitterness, you learn to be smart.

Liu Xianyang had done it for a friend back in his hometown. Now, encountering another matter concerning the same friend, he was still so unwise.

Cui Dongshan was certain that his Master, Chen Ping’an, even now, still believed Liu Xianyang was far smarter than him. Perhaps he would always think that.

That was why, at that time, Cui Dongshan had dared to borrow the dog’s courage of the Left Protector of Qi Long Alley, risking the Master’s reprimand, to secretly arrange for Liu Xianyang to follow the Chunru Chen Clan on that trip to the Sword Qi Great Wall.

Cui Dongshan, as a sneaky and secretive little “Celestial,” could do many things, but he might never be able to act with the same justified confidence as Liu Xianyang. Especially, he could never be as genuine as Liu Xianyang, who felt, “I do what I do. Does Chen Ping’an’s opinion matter? He just needs to listen.”

“If my words don’t matter to Chen Ping’an, then I’m not Liu Xianyang, and Chen Ping’an isn’t Chen Ping’an.”

Even Cui Dongshan had to admit that this unspoken remark from Liu Xianyang was pretty damn impressive.

A Liu Xianyang like that was worthy of any good woman in the world.

Cui Dongshan didn’t go to the Great Li secondary capital or Old Dragon City. Instead, he went to a Great March region not under Wei Bo’s jurisdiction. There were still matters to handle at Zhenwu Mountain, related to Old Man Yang, so he had to be careful.

Turning over the old almanac, those ancient gods who once stood high had their own factions. If they had been united in a single block, the later human ascent up the mountain would not have happened. But their greatest commonality was the mercilessness of the Heavenly Dao. Ruan Xiu and Li Liu had changed greatly in this reincarnation, deliberately arranged by Old Man Yang. Otherwise, consider Li Liu, who had reincarnated many times before. Why was her original Dao heart still unchanged each time?

Cui Dongshan yawned. At the border between two March regions, he suddenly flipped his posture from floating face-up to face-down and glanced at the human world below.

The various night-wandering gods in the Northern March region’s city god temples were probably the most grateful to their own Grand Mountain Lord Wei Bo.

On Piyun Mountain, Wei Bo, currently free, was in a small bamboo grove. Only a few bamboo plants remained, and these were not only from the Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven but, to be precise, from the Green God Mountain where the Mountain God Temple was located, making them extremely rare. He had endured it when Ah Liang had ruined them back then. In fact, every time he visited the bamboo building on Luo Po Mountain, Wei Bo felt rather complicated. One more glance pained him, and he couldn’t bear not to look.

Now the bamboo grove looked sparse and lean. Wei Bo sighed. Night tours could be held with gritted teeth, but the bamboos had to be protected with a firm heart.

Earlier, he had approached Cui Dongshan, asking if the white-robed youth had any connection with the Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven and could buy a few more bamboos of similar grade, preferably close relatives of the original ones. Piyun Mountain was willing to sell everything at a high price. At that time, Cui Dongshan’s expression was odd, and he said, “I would grit my teeth and risk half my life to open my mouth for you, Mountain Lord. But I’m afraid that not only will I be beaten half to death by the wife of Green God Mountain, but I will also drag Piyun Mountain into becoming the ‘top distinguished guest’ on the Green God Temple’s prayer list.”

Wei Bo had to give up.

But he placed his hopes on Chen Ping’an. Anyway, whether dealing with women or with predecessors, this young Luo Po Mountain mountain master was truly skilled.

The little incense-fire creature who regularly reported in from the state city god temple had been secretly bestowed a temporary minor official post by Zhou Mili—the Right Protector of Qi Long Alley, the same post Zhou Mili had vacated. Zhou Mili had also told it plainly that whether it became permanent depended on Pei Qian’s opinion; for now, it was only acting in the role. The little guy was so happy he almost went home to beat drums and gongs.

That incense-fire creature, after returning to the state city god pavilion, presumably feeling bolstered by its official hat, spoke with great bravado. Standing on the edge of the incense burner, hands on its hips, it looked up at the golden statue and said, “Speak to me with more respect from now on!” “Damn it, why don’t you put more incense ash in the burner!” “If you starve me, I’ll go to Luo Po Mountain and file a complaint. I have backup on the mountain now. This place doesn’t keep me, so I’ll go where I’m appreciated!”

The City God, the foremost among all city gods in Longzhou, chuckled and replied, “Quite the authority you have there.”

The little creature’s courage dwindled a bit. It tried to imitate the Right Protector by crossing its arms, preparing to say something heroic, but the City God gave it a slap that sent it flying out of the pavilion. Feeling humiliated, it simply ran away from home and defected to Luo Po Mountain for half a day. The Right Protector of Qi Long Alley met the Right Protector of Luo Po Mountain, lamenting only that it was too small to carry a shoulder pole or a bamboo staff for Lord Zhou. Chen Nuan Shu heard the little creature complain about the City God’s many faults and advised it, roughly saying, “You and the City God went through many hardships together at Mantou Mountain back then. Now that your master has been promoted to a high official, you are half a face of the city god pavilion. You shouldn’t sulk with the City God often, or you’ll make other city gods and civil and military temples laugh.” Finally, Nuan Shu smiled and said, “Our Right Protector of Qi Long Alley certainly knows how to handle things properly and with propriety.”

Mili nodded vigorously beside her, gently placing her hand on the incense-fire creature’s head, and said, “We who have been or are currently the Right Protector of Qi Long Alley are all incredibly clever.”

The incense-fire creature was first stunned, then thought about it, and finally was delighted. Having a way to save face, the little creature hopped off the stone table and happily went down the mountain to return home.

Liu Xianyang walked alone tonight along the banks of the Dragon Beard River, all the way to the Iron Talisman River. Across the river was the water god temple of the river’s main god, Yang Hua. Only then did Liu Xianyang turn around.

Before leaving Southern Bodhi Continent, the old gentleman had bid him farewell on a stone cliff. He told Liu Xianyang something and let him choose.

At the time, Liu Xianyang raised his wrist and smiled bitterly. Without hesitation, he bowed and earnestly asked the old gentleman to cut the red thread.

Chen Chun’an smiled and twisted the red thread with two fingers, warning Liu Xianyang, “Once you return home, be careful. The person behind this trick is definitely not simple.”

Liu Xianyang sighed and rubbed his cheeks vigorously. That strange existence of the sword cultivator Liu Cai was truly worrisome. But just thinking of that Sheyue girl gave him some energy. He immediately ran to the water’s edge, squatted down, and “looked in the mirror.” Damn, a handsome fellow that even several Chen Ping’ans couldn’t match—Sheyue girl, you’re really fortunate.

Northern Juzhou Continent.

Zhou Mi, the head of the Yufu Academy, was waiting for two replies. He couldn’t go to Bottle Gourd Continent to distract himself for now, so he took a nearby trip to Lion Peak to drink with two new and old friends: the peak master and the martial artist Li Er.

In fact, not long ago, Zhou Mi had visited Lion Peak. At that time, there was a young Confucian scholar who claimed to be from Cliff Academy. When he met Zhou Mi, the young man was reading a book on the mountain. He clearly knew how to treat himself well—a pair of chopsticks, a wine pot, a few dishes of appetizers. That boy, Li Huai, took Zhou Mi for a cultivator from Lion Peak. Without any stage fright, he enthusiastically dragged Zhou Mi to drink with him. He directly gave the remaining half-pot of wine to Zhou Mi, calling him “Great Immortal Zhou,” and said that back home when eating appetizers, whether it was salted peanuts or whatever, using chopsticks meant their friendship “hadn’t reached the door.” As long as Grand Immortal Zhou didn’t mind, he shouldn’t stand on ceremony. He also mentioned that his elder sister was cultivating on the mountain and asked Zhou Mi to look after her a little. The young man raised his wine bowl and said he would start a round.

Zhou Mi smiled and asked, “Has your son returned to Bottle Gourd Continent?”

Li Er nodded with a smile. “Yes, he came back. You can’t always travel far. My son is a scholar, after all.”

Li Er and his wife still felt that their son Li Huai’s identity as a scholar was their most presentable asset.

As for their daughter Li Liu, to Li Er, she had always been an exceptionally good and sensible girl, and still was.

The peak master’s smile was awkward. It wasn’t that Li Huai was ignorant; he was too sensible. For his sister’s immortal fate on the mountain, he could say the most fawning things. But that wasn’t the style on Lion Peak. Moreover, the old Nascent Soul was accustomed to flattery at wine tables outside. So it wasn’t that the old cultivator couldn’t handle the flattery, but that the boy would say things like, “My sister, she’s clumsy but kind-hearted. What great fortune it is that she can cultivate here on Lion Peak!” and “If my sister accidentally means well but does something bad, Old Master Peak, you look like a venerable immortal who has read many books. Please be tolerant. You can scold or even set rules if necessary.” The old Nascent Soul could only chuckle and dare not say a word. Would he dare to respond? Not at all.

That founding ancestor of Lion Peak was not, in Li Huai’s eyes, the “maid beside the Golden Core Earth Immortal Wei Taizhen.” Rather, she treated a Flying Ascension stage great demon from the Lu Shui Pit as her maid, ordering it around as she pleased.

After drinking with Li Er and the others, Zhou Mi walked alone to a scenic pavilion with a wide view and sighed softly.

“Master, for matters that can be done or not done in the world, let’s do them first. If you think the road is long, I, your student, will save you the trouble and be responsible for the sealing ceremony. But don’t forget to send me the cyan-colored Writ from the Confucian Temple.”

Due to sharing the same name as a certain throne-level great demon, this Confucian sage, who considered himself very good-tempered, wrote to the Confucian Temple in a stiff manner. But the end of his letter to his master could almost be considered disrespectful.

“If you can’t even do this, Master, I will return to you the principles of the sages you taught me. Moreover, I’ll resign from my position as head of the academy. Your student Zhou Mi will go and meet that Wen Hai Zhou Mi from the Barbarian World. After all, only one of the two can remain.”

At the Thunder God Mansion on Infant Mountain, the two outsiders had finally left.

That fellow named Chen Lingjun had never bowed his head and admitted fault. He maintained the attitude of “You admit fault and correct it first, then I’ll apologize.” The reason the Thunder God Mansion let them go was that Li Yuan, the Dragon Pavilion Marquis, had sent a second secret letter with just one sentence: “Don’t be ungrateful. If my good brother eats one more prison meal in your house, I’ll turn your Thunder God Mansion into a water prison!”

But Chen Lingjun was still in the dark, thinking that his silent prayers to His Lordship for protection had finally worked.

His entire glorious reputation had been ruined at the Thunder God Mansion.

Still, at least he no longer had to eat prison meals in fear every day—meals that, whenever they had a hint of meat, he thought were his last supper. Then he would look at his friend wolfing down the food and feel sorrow, believing he had dragged this good brother into misery.

Now, fortunately, the heavens were vast and the earth wide. The old immortals of the Infant Mountain Thunder God Mansion not only didn’t hold the loss of the word “Mansion” against them, but they actually sent a crowd to politely escort them down the mountain.

Chen Lingjun had secretly left all his immortal money in the prison, keeping only enough gold leaves and silver ingots to ensure he and his good buddy wouldn’t go hungry. The Thunder God Mansion might not be particular about doing things, but Chen Lingjun was.

After descending the mountain, Chen Lingjun couldn’t help but feel a bit downcast.

The young coachman said, “Those immortal lords of the Thunder God Mansion didn’t admit fault, and we didn’t either. Consider it even.”

Chen Lingjun looked back at Infant Mountain from afar. “When you’re already an immortal, is it really that hard to admit a mistake and correct it?”

The young coachman laughed. “Immortals have bigger faces than common folk, little brother, little brother, you’re such a fool. Can’t you figure that out?”

Chen Lingjun laughed heartily, lowered his voice, and said, “Screw face.”

The young coachman said, “Let’s go drink good wine. Screw everything. Remember to pick the expensive stuff. Skimping and scraping isn’t our style.”

In a seaside city, Chen Lingjun found a tavern, ordered a large table of food and wine, and drank heavily with his good brother who had shared hardships. The two of them needed to wash away their bad luck with alcohol.

The young man, a coachman by trade, was named Bai Mang. The name was a bit odd. Once, Chen Lingjun got drunk in a tavern and said the name wasn’t very auspicious. He patted his chest and promised his friend that when they returned home together, he would have his master pick a new name. Chen Lingjun had stood on a bench at the time, thumbs up, saying his master was the best at naming!

Though he was a young coachman, he was a solid Third-Stage martial artist, well-traveled in the world.

Chen Lingjun didn’t judge friends by their realm. Besides, in his hometown, that whole “realm” thing shouldn’t be taken seriously. It was the most boring thing.

Heaven and earth are vast; the most important thing is affinity.

Today, drinking with his good buddy Bai Mang at the tavern, he ordered a full table of signature dishes. Bai Mang said something scholarly: “It’s rare to have ‘nothing to do today,’ perfect for good wine.”

What is good wine? Expensive wine. Chen Lingjun liked that. Bai Mang’s best quality was that he never pretended. The genuine emotion in Bai Mang’s attitude—that “brother, eating and drinking with you every day isn’t taking advantage; it’s treating you like a long-lost blood brother”—Chen Lingjun loved that from the bottom of his heart. The only flaw in Brother Li Yuan was that he lacked this kind of heroic spirit.

Today, Chen Lingjun got drunk again, but for once he didn’t drag Bai Mang into boasting. Instead, he was a bit melancholy, his voice growing softer and softer. “I used to like hearing only good things, not a single bad word. Later, I met my master, and he told me to listen to both good and bad, but not take either too seriously. Besides, ten good words can be killed by one bad word. So whenever I hear a good word, I set aside ninety percent of it. When I’ve saved up enough good words, I can wait for that one bad word to come visiting, and I won’t be hurt at all.”

The young coachman shook his head. “Little Brother Lingjun, there are very few people in the world who are so shrewd at accounting and know how to mend their own heart-path. Most only pick the nice things to hear. Otherwise, they’re rich and idle, full and bored, and only look for the ugly.”

Chen Lingjun laughed. “You’re talking about me.”

The young coachman laughed. “And also about myself. Let’s encourage each other. At least we know the principle. Whether we can act on it, we’ll talk after the wine. What are you waiting for? Afraid I’ll drink you broke? I’ll start a round, you follow!”

Chen Lingjun quickly drank a bowl with Bai Mang.

He couldn’t help but sigh again. His mood was strange today. Unaccountably, he thought of that old brother from Yellow Lake Mountain and said, “Bai Mang, when you visit my home in the future, I’ll introduce you to a friend. His surname is Jia, an old Daoist. He’s witty and a good drinker, and he’s the one I talk to best back home.”

Bai Mang laughed. “Jia? As in fake? Must be fake, right?”

Chen Lingjun snickered. “No education. But as a wanderer, not knowing many characters isn’t shameful. You still need to drink a round.”

Bai Mang quickly drank a bowl and refilled it. The bowl wasn’t big, so they needed many bowls to make up. Anyway, the good brother wasn’t stingy. In the wanderer’s world, that was called face!

The two staggered out of the tavern, drunk. Chen Lingjun weighed his money pouch and said bitterly, “Bai Mang, it seems we won’t be able to drink many more of these kinds of drinks.”

Bai Mang smiled and nodded. “True. All feasts must end.”

Chen Lingjun belched. He was still dressed with a bamboo bookcase on his back and a walking staff in hand. He wanted to scold Bai Mang for not speaking nicely, but then he thought that his own river-ascending journey was imminent, and the words felt too poignant to refute. After all, the river-ascending was bound to be difficult and full of surprises. Old Brother Bai Mang was only a Third-Stage martial artist; he might not be able to keep up with the speed of the river-ascending, nor would it be safe. What if another Thunder God Mansion blocked their way?

Bai Mang turned his head and looked at the silent Chen Lingjun. He smiled and slapped Chen Lingjun on the back of the head, making him stagger.

Chen Lingjun rubbed his head. “What’s that for?”

Bai Mang patted his belly and laughed. “Drink till I’m full. So comfortable, so comfortable.”

Chen Lingjun hesitated for a long time, then said, “Brother, we might really have to part ways. I have something to do, and it can’t be delayed. If I succeed, I’ll come back to find you for a good drink, the most expensive immortal brew!”

When he saw Bai Mang just smiling at him, Chen Lingjun was startled. “What, been locked up so long you’re looking at me like I’m a woman? Bai Mang, don’t be like that. I’ll give you all the gold leaves, and I’ll keep the silver ingots. Where you go from there, I won’t care.”

Bai Mang laughed heartily. “No need, no need. Following my good brother, I won’t worry about food or drink. That’s how wanderers do things...”

Chen Lingjun had already taken off his bookcase. In a secluded spot, he opened the bamboo case and took out the remaining package of gold leaves, handing them to Bai Mang. When his good brother didn’t move, Chen Lingjun urged, “Hurry up. If you’re not generous, how can you be my good brother?”

Bai Mang hesitated.

Chen Lingjun tossed them to him lightly. After Bai Mang caught them, Chen Lingjun hugged his walking staff and saluted with cupped fists: “Bai Mang, let’s part here. If you’re willing, wait for me at the Water Dragon Sect. If I can return, I’ll definitely come find you and take you to Bottle Gourd Continent for fun. I’m not bragging—I know that place like the back of my hand. I can drink anywhere and not pay a cent! When we get there, we’ll continue to eat and drink well every day!”

Bai Mang smiled and said, “Then I’ll wait for you at the Spring Dew Garden.”

Chen Lingjun thought for a moment; who knows who will wait for whom? But it wasn’t convenient to say more, so he agreed to meet at the Spring Dew Garden.

Chen Lingjun strode away.

Bai Mang put the bag of gold leaves into his sleeve, leaned against the wall of the alley, and watched the figure recede into the distance.

Indeed, who knows who will wait for whom.

Bai Mang had originally waited until matters were concluded.

Then, like the old Daoist Jia Sheng, he would return this mortal shell.

But there was a slight difference from Jia Sheng. Back then, the dazed Jia Sheng had been him napping. He hadn’t always been Jia Sheng, though; he occasionally looked back at the Li Zhu Cave Heaven of yesteryear.

As for this current mortal shell, he was just a traveler. When he, the guest, left one day, the host would not remember that a guest had ever visited. The guest came uninvited, barging in, so naturally he had to leave a gift. A Far Traveling realm physique, an Earth Immortal cultivation—those were not difficult. But for an ordinary person to suddenly acquire wealth would leave their heart still shallow. In the long run, that might not be a good thing. Giving some worldly gold and silver, granting a Third-Stage physique that could extend life by a few years—enough for this coachman to have a dreamlike experience and return home with a small, inexplicable fortune—that would suffice.

Adorning flowers and watching mist, neither to be neglected. Seeking flowers in the mist is truly hard work.

Could it be that in the end, he would hold a flower and smile?

Bai Mang suddenly smiled, raised a hand, and formed a hand seal.

A sword technique was a Dao technique.

The sword of flying swords, the Dao of the Dao.

Drawing the sword was the movement of the great Dao.

The river of time seemed to flow backward.

It became the moment when Bai Mang had just taken the bag of gold leaves, and Chen Lingjun had just turned around.

Bai Mang smiled and said, “Chen Lingjun, earlier I did come to slay the dragon. When I reached the site of Li Zhu Cave Heaven, I could kill two birds with one stone—save myself the trouble. First, slay that remnant of the true dragon, then take a short walk to the confluence of the Ji River, and cut off your head, Chen Lingjun, as a small return gift for Lu Shen’s having troubled me for so long.”

Upon hearing this, “Chen Lingjun” turned around and gave Bai Mang a thumbs-up. Truly a good brother—they even spoke alike!

Without wine, I’m the most miserable wretch on Luo Po Mountain. With wine, not just Luo Po Mountain, but the entire Northern March region—the sky is vast and the earth is big, and I am the greatest.

Then Chen Lingjun jumped up and slapped the young man on the head, laughing and scolding, “Haven’t cracked melon seeds, have you? You’re so drunk. Is a good brother’s head something to be chopped? Chop your grandpa’s head! If you can’t even afford a sword, and yet you carry one around, you’d be chopping at the sky!”

Bai Mang laughed heartily and formed another seal in his sleeve.

He remained standing there, while Chen Lingjun’s figure had already vanished around the corner of the street.

A head suddenly poked out, shouting, “Bai Mang, I’ll help you change your name later! ‘Busy for Nothing’ doesn’t sound auspicious!”

Bai Mang—or Jia Sheng, or the teacher of the White Emperor City lord, the former dragon-slayer of the Righteous Qi World—smiled and waved at Chen Lingjun.

----

In the high pavilion of the feudal residence,

Song Mu left the meeting hall full of generals and immortal masters today and personally led the distinguished guest, Mr. Fan, on a high vantage point to observe the battlefield.

Imperial Uncle Song Changjing had spoken some words that truly transformed him from Song Jixin of Mud Vase Alley into Song Mu, the Great Li feudal prince.

You may spend your life diligently reading and not necessarily become a sage of the Confucian Temple. You may ascend the mountain to cultivate the Dao and not necessarily become an immortal. But you are the Great Li feudal prince. You don’t even need to worry about whether you are Song He or Song Mu in the Song clan genealogy. As long as you can recognize and employ people, you will wield a power far beyond any academy head or mountain immortal. A continent’s mountains and rivers, half the realm, are in your hands, Song Jixin, for you to strategize. The sages of the academies speak reason, and others just listen. The gods observe the mountains and rivers? They just watch. As for the thoughts of some women around you, do you need to consciously understand them? Do you need to wallow in self-pity? You make her come to fathom the thoughts of Song Jixin beside her.

Song Mu exhaled softly.

Outside Old Dragon City. On this small Bottle Gourd Continent, many cultivators who had left their mountains displayed their magical powers and divine abilities. Even Mr. Fan, an old cultivator who had once pursued Ah Liang, was secretly startled.

In the great sea, Zhigui first revealed her true dragon form, wantonly slaughtering the demon army of the Barbarian World. Not only that, but she summoned a massive tidal wave out of thin air, crashing it against the line of tide created by the throne-level great demon Feifei’s water-based technique.

Feifei’s attack caused the entire southern sea outside Old Dragon City to seem split into two—one high, one low. After Zhigui revealed her true body, a Li Pearl, as bright as the moon in the sea, illuminated a radius of a hundred li, instantly raising the sea surface near Old Dragon City. The two high walls of sea, seemingly separated by only a line, were much higher in the north and lower in the south. Feifei’s technique to move the sea was the full effort of this throne-level great demon, aided by hundreds of demon cultivators skilled in water arts. Zhigui allowed half of the collapsing sea to surge behind her, flooding Old Dragon City!

She only proceeded to smash through the walls and go south, heading straight for Feifei.

The Bottle Gourd Continent cultivators on the Old Dragon City battlefield would not allow the seawater to crush the city’s mountain-and-river great formation. In the sky, war-boats hovered, and thousands of flying swords shot out. The sword immortals and sword cultivators from Northern Juzhou Continent, who had traveled here, along with Bottle Gourd Continent’s native sword cultivators like Chu Yang of the Fu family, all used their various sword lights to shatter the water. Meanwhile, the orthodox true man from the White Frost Dynasty allowed a wordless calligraphy scroll to dissipate completely between heaven and earth, transforming the seals on the scroll into dozens of golden-armored puppets, each tens of feet tall, lined up outside Old Dragon City, charging forward to cleave the water.

There was also a monk who had come on behalf of the Bottle Gourd Continent temples to reciprocate the Great Li dynasty’s courtesy. Not sparing two life-bound items—a tin staff and a kasaya—he turned the staff into a dragon, stretching like a green mountain range between the huge wave and the land, and covered half of Old Dragon City with his kasaya. He was determined to stop the great water from pressing down on the city, preventing damage to the formation that even immortal money could not remedy.

Huang Tong, the Law-Preserving Ancestor of Taihui Sword Sect, advanced instead of retreating, standing alone on the shore. He summoned a life-bound flying sword, ignoring the huge waves and seawater, and simply slaughtered the water-demon cultivators who could move freely. All their disguises were torn apart by Feifei’s actions, saving him the trouble of searching them out. With one sword stroke, it transformed into eighty-one sword lights, each moving like a dragon in every direction. Each radiant sword light, upon touching a demonic body, instantly exploded into a mass of scattered sword lights, which then blasted outward again.

In the old days on the Sword Qi Great Wall, when he vied with the sect leader to die first, this was the foundation of Huang Tong’s words: “Let me do it, you go back.”

Pity that the sect leader, Han Huaizi, overruled him with, “I am the sect leader!”

Old Dragon City’s protective city formation was temporarily intact.

But before leaving, Mr. Fan smiled and said a “polite remark” to the feudal prince Song Mu: “If I hadn’t seen such losses, it would be fine. Now that I’ve seen them and done nothing, I can only contribute money.”

Thus, Old Dragon City received another batch of Gu Yu coins to maintain the spiritual energy operation of the city on the ground and the war-boats in the sky.

After Mr. Fan and his attendants left, Song Mu stared into the distance at the sea, where a pair of mortal Dao enemies occasionally revealed parts of their true bodies.

Zhigui and Feifei.

Both had revealed their true forms.

In the north, abundant water fortune flowed like a surging river from the central great river into Zhigui in the sea.

Feifei, meanwhile, also drew on a portion of the water fortune from the northern part of Tongye Continent, but the momentum was not as exaggerated as Zhigui’s.

A struggle between dragon and serpent.

But the true dragon, of a higher rank, was still young, of lower realm.

Fortunately, neither side dared to steal the sea’s water fortune hastily. The sea tended to favor and be closer to the pure white dragon with golden eyes.

Song Mu’s expression was calm, but one hand gripping the railing had turned into a claw-like grip.

Song Mu suddenly withdrew that hand. Without turning his head, he raised his hand lightly.

The Great Li military attache cultivators immediately let two people pass to approach the feudal prince.

They were two old acquaintances: the young city lord Fu Nanhua and Cai Jinjian of Cloud Mist Mountain.

With Fu Nanhua, there was no need for formalities. Though they didn’t see each other often these years, over the years, with one in the inner city’s feudal mansion and the other having moved to the outer city, there were plenty of opportunities for catching up. So after turning around, Song Mu only nodded and smiled at Fu Nanhua, then looked at that Earth Immortal from Cloud Mist Mountain, cupped his fists, and said, “Congratulations, Jinjian, on reaching Nascent Soul.”

Cai Jinjian looked a bit embarrassed and said with a laugh, “That’s a joke. Fu Nanhua already laughed at me. You don’t need to add to it.”

Song Mu laughed heartily before saying, “I’m not the Young City Lord Fu.”

Cai Jinjian sighed, stood beside Song Mu, and looked into the distance at the battlefield. Above them, the radiance of Old Dragon City’s great formation was darkened a bit after being topped by the remaining huge waves, but it quickly regained its original spiritual energy. Nowadays, the Great Li Song clan was really rich.

After gaining the opportunity of the Ascension Platform, due to her sect’s background at Cloud Mist Mountain, Cai Jinjian didn’t need to go to the battlefield to fight. Wealth and resources could also buy military merit.

In fact, when Cloud Mist Mountain learned that Cai Jinjian had become a Nascent Soul, the Law-Preserving Ancestor specifically found her and demanded one thing: he wouldn’t stop her from leaving the city to fight, but she absolutely must protect her Dao foundation.

Song Mu continued to watch the distant battlefield.

His own cultivation realm was negligible, which actually turned out to be a good thing—he didn’t have to see the bloody scenes too clearly.

The only true dragon in the world was three thousand feet long. With such a massive body, any wound torn open would be larger and more shocking.

Cai Jinjian glanced at the feudal prince, whose face was not overly young. She sighed inwardly. He was no longer the mud-vase-alley youth who could not hide his noble aura.

In the center of Bottle Gourd Continent, at the Imitation Jade Capital, the twelve flying swords were all summoned for the first time. They vanished above the secondary capital and the Great River, and reappeared in the sea outside Old Dragon City.

The flying swords pierced Feifei’s true body from head to tail, pinning it down.

This allowed the true dragon, whose exposed bones were indeed white but whose body was mostly covered in golden blood, to withdraw from the battlefield. Yet even with the help of the twelve flying swords, the true dragon still could not fully extricate itself.

A long-armed old man, hovering outside the battlefield on a sword, changed his stance from carrying a long staff on his shoulder to striking the true dragon’s head with it. The blow sent the dragon’s head crashing into the depths of the sea, and blood instantly spread over the sea surface.

This scene was right before Old Dragon City’s eyes.

Song Mu clenched his fists in his sleeves, but his face remained expressionless.

Several sword immortals from Northern Juzhou pressed in to support the true dragon. The great demon Yuan Shou, seeing little chance to kill, grinned, tapped his foot off the sword beneath him, and suddenly revealed his enormous true body. He stomped a dozen cultivators who dared to slay his kin on the shore, then struck the mountain-and-river formation of Old Dragon City with his staff. One blow stripped the great formation of all radiance. The city-protecting formation, made up of countless intricate, vast flows of spiritual energy, shattered with a bang. Under the sunlight, it looked like a magnificent rain falling on Old Dragon City.

The long staff not only broke the formation but continued with great momentum, slamming toward the high pavilion of the feudal mansion.

Huang Tong and Li Cai almost simultaneously sacrificed their flying swords to slash at Yuan Shou’s head, but the great demon slapped one sword away, grabbed the other and tossed it far off.

Fortunately, just as the staff was about to hit the feudal mansion, a inconspicuous continuous thread appeared in the sky. This small mountain range, moved by someone unknown, blocked the remaining force of Yuan Shou’s half-staff.

The “thread” snapped, and a mountain range in central Bottle Gourd Continent collapsed accordingly.

Yuan Shou did not dare linger on the battlefield. After being struck a few more times by sword immortals, he stepped back onto his sword and withdrew from the battle.

Those sword-wielding brats from Northern Juzhou were truly hateful. After I smash a hundred Patriarch Halls in Bottle Gourd Continent, when I reach their homeland, I won’t break their own Patriarch Halls with my staff. Instead, I will properly challenge their mountain peaks with swords.

On the Dragon Ascension Platform, a white-clothed woman had retracted her true body and was curled up.

A yellow-robed child stood trembling on the steps, not daring to approach the platform, nor to come near his horrifyingly wounded master.

With her cheek pressed to the ground, Zhigui glared at the worthless creature and squeezed out three words from between clenched teeth: “Die far away.”

That “yellow-robed child,” who had previously succeeded in the river-ascending with Zhigui from the Qi River—this former four-legged snake from Mud Vase Alley—hurriedly ran down the steps, crouched at the foot of the platform, and covered his head, trembling.

From the look he had just exchanged with her, he found that his master seemed on the verge of devouring him to heal her wounds.

Feifei had also returned to human form, but her body had twelve holes. Those weren’t ordinary sword immortals’ flying swords; they had unavoidably damaged her Dao foundation. Especially the sword that pierced from the back of her head through her brow—that was the most vicious. But Feifei was still in much better shape than that little dragon’s miserable state.

As for the twelve Jade Capital flying swords, not all had returned to Cui Chan. She had broken one and captured another, intending to give it to her lord as a gift.

The battlefield returned to mutual slaughter.

Feudal Prince Song Mu gave an order.

Dozens of Great Li death warriors silently set out, spreading out like a net toward three gates that had been broken open by the Barbarian World.

These were gates torn open by the demon army, but also deliberately left open by Old Dragon City.

Otherwise, the Barbarian World would have swarmed Old Dragon City and surged north. Song Mu and everyone qualified to participate in the discussions had never thought Old Dragon City could hold out.

But when Old Dragon City could no longer hold, it had to become a complete ruin, having killed enough demon soldiers, especially demon cultivators. As for the cultivators from Bottle Gourd Continent themselves, in the wars of the world, could people avoid dying?

Just like those death warriors heading to the battlefield—besides the Great Li border army’s attached cultivators, more were convicted cultivators from the Ministry of Punishment’s death row. Each one was a “talisman.” The death of each one would be equivalent to a Golden Core Earth Immortal’s self-destruction.

Cai Jinjian asked, “Aren’t you worried that some death warriors might fear death, desert, or even surrender to the demons?”

Song Mu said, “There will be some, and not few. But don’t worry. They fear death, but the demons wouldn’t dare accept them either.”

The death warriors from the Great Li military would surrender first and then die. Not just one, but twelve in total, one after another. They would force the demon camp to refuse surrender. Moreover, with such chaos on the battlefield, who had time to identify everyone?

Soon, near the front of the battlefield, where the demons were clustered, a large light flashed.

Fu Nanhua leaned on the railing, turned his head to look at Song Mu, who was squinting to observe the battlefield’s progression. Song Mu raised a hand, as if having a thought, and called over a literary secretary. He communicated by heart voice, and the latter immediately flew toward the meeting hall.

Fu Nanhua withdrew his gaze, a bit envious.

The identity of a feudal prince, the talent of a warlord.

Ahead of Old Dragon City, behind the Southern March, two elite Great Li cavalry units were quietly waiting for Old Dragon City to be breached. In the southeast and southwest of Bottle Gourd Continent, two battle lines had also begun their slaughter. But for now, they weren’t as brutal as the Old Dragon City front. However, this “less brutal” was only relative to the mountain cultivators. The number of deaths among Great Li border troops and vassal forces was increasing sharply every day.

Of course, it was the Great Li cavalry stationed on the front lines that died first and in greater numbers.

Nevertheless, some vassal border troops deemed adequate by the Great Li dynasty would cooperate on the front lines.

Even so, these genuine elites of the continent’s vassal states were still looked down upon by the Great Li cavalry.

At a frontline battlefield under the jurisdiction of the Yunlin Jiang Clan, a major battle concluded at sunset. Great Li civil and military secretaries arranged for soldiers to clean the battlefield. Few were from the Great Li cavalry; most were from vassal states, both mountain cultivators and ordinary soldiers. Even after the battle ended, the vassal elites who didn’t have to search through piles of corpses didn’t find it unreasonable. After so many battles, the gap in combat power was more apparent than in the early days when the Great Li cavalry marched south to crush various states. Only then did they realize that back then, the southward cavalry hadn’t had much chance to use their full strength.

A dozen or so Great Li elites, their wounds bandaged, sat on a small slope, looking at the battlefield not far away.

Most of them were originally from vassal state border troops; only three were authentic Great Li cavalry. But after several battles, relations had become a bit friendlier. “Friendlier” meant they could chat a bit more.

A young soldier from a Great Li vassal state said softly, “Sir Colonel, according to those immortal masters, they say that after people die, most are gone forever. Some become wandering souls and can make it back for the seventh-day memorial. Only a very few have a chance to become ghosts.”

The colonel, a man of refined features, if not for his injuries, could have passed for a celebrity scholar in his vassal homeland.

But this colonel, of course, held an old military rank from the vassal state. Now, he couldn’t even be a commandant; he could only get a deputy captain position in the Great Li border army. That had just been promoted one grade based on military merit before today’s battle. Before today, he had been one of three deputy commandants. Now there was no “one of”—he would probably become “one of” again tomorrow.

He said softly, “Our homeland is still here. Die early and go home early. Don’t die too late, and then have no home left. Then even dying, you wouldn’t know where to go. If you’re lucky, you might get to see it a few more times, but that would become misfortune.”

In truth, this colonel named Cheng Qing was indeed a jinshi graduate.

Cheng Qing turned to the commandant beside him and teased, “You Great Li people are in the far north—an easy journey.”

Commandant Wang Ji was a former scout from the Great Li border army. He was about the same age as Cheng Qing, but when he enlisted, Cheng Qing was still a young boy, studying hard over sage books.

Cheng Qing had once asked a question he had long wanted an answer to: Why were the Great Li cavalry so formidable?

The man, who had been a Great Li border army commandant for many years, looked older than he was, like a man in his forties. He thought for a long time before giving a non-answer: “When I first joined the border army, the first time I saw my own bone from an enemy’s blade, while the old squad leader carried me to bandage my wounds, I didn’t dare to howl loudly. Actually, the old squad leader wouldn’t have blamed me. At that moment, I only blamed myself, felt I wasn’t a real man, but I had to pretend to be one. Later, I just got used to it.”

A Great Li native border soldier with a youthful face snapped, “What do you mean ‘you Great Li people’? Explain yourself!”

Wang Ji’s aging face was truly aged, but the youthful face was truly young—only sixteen years old, but a solid Great Li border cavalryman.

The young soldier grumbled inwardly. He had tolerated the pretentious literary talk earlier; this guy, having supposedly abandoned the brush for the sword, had read a few books. He said the evening glow looked like a blushing girl, and that the moonlight was a snob, shining more beautifully on silk than on cotton. Nonsense that only half made sense. You have so much learning, but I haven’t seen you kill more demon beasts than me. Why aren’t you the Minister of Rites?

Cheng Qing smiled. “Alright, alright, Squad Leader Ma is right.”

The young man, who always claimed his surname was Ma, said that being born in Great Li meant he was destined for the Great Li cavalry!

Seeing Cheng Qing concede, the youth didn’t press further. After all, Cheng Qing was only half a deputy captain now, and half because he was an outsider.

Wang Ji didn’t stop the youth from talking; he only pressed the boy’s head to keep him from stirring up more trouble. Wang Ji smiled and said, “Some habitual sayings don’t matter. Besides, we don’t even bother about life and death anymore—what’s there to be particular about? Now everyone is a comrade in arms…”

Hearing this, the youth was about to speak, but the commandant increased the pressure on his head, and he immediately shut up.

According to Great Li law, all military personnel from vassal states had their ranks downgraded by at least three levels. Those without official rank to reduce had to remain common soldiers.

Cheng Qing teased, “Squad Leader Ma, did you see that Immortal Song, who looks about your age? Did she cry while bandaging your wounds this time?”

The youth flushed red and cursed, “You scholars are all frivolous. Mocking a little girl isn’t heroic! Get up, let’s spar!”

Cheng Qing waved his hand. “Wouldn’t dare. I concede.”

Everyone, whether Great Li natives or not, burst into laughter.

In the rear of the battlefield now, medicine cultivators and alchemists were the highest-status mountain immortals in the eyes of all Great Li troops. The reason was simple: one could save lives, and the other could increase the chances of staying alive.

Women, regardless of realm or appearance, were sincerely called “immortals,” while men were addressed by their surname plus “immortal.” One should know that the Great Li border troops had always been most dismissive of mountain immortals from Bottle Gourd Continent. Before this war, which had a beginning but no known end, any cultivator, no matter who, who tried to act tough would be met with: “See this Great Li standard saber? I can’t kill you, but my Great Li cavalry can trade me out for another man with another knife, and you’ll die without daring to resist.”

The “Immortal Song” that Cheng Qing mentioned was a young Qi Practitioner from a medicine family. She was brave enough to follow her seniors here but tended to cry in secret.

Unwilling to let these bastards mock the Immortal Song he knew, the youth quickly changed the subject. “Commandant, I heard you once went to the capital’s Ministry of War with our general. How was it? Was the ministry imposing? Is the Minister really as fearsome as the legends say—does a sneeze sound like thunder?”

The normally taciturn commandant twitched his lips, which counted as a smile. “I was just a personal guard for the general back then, so I got a chance to visit the capital. Without official documents, you can’t get into the Ministry of War—sneaking in would be suicide. I had to wait outside while the general handled business. The ministry entrance was bustling, so I plucked up my courage and touched the stone lion’s mane. But before I could get my fill, the general came out, said business was done, and we moved on. A friend of his was a minor official in a subordinate ministry office, not amounting to much but wearing the same official robe, sitting in the office drinking tea every day. How could that compare to drinking horse urine on the battlefield?”

At this point, Commandant Wang Ji added, “Actually, among the general’s friends, two had made it big in the capital, and I knew them well. I’d taken my share of scoldings and beatings from them. They’d all come from the old battalion the general had served in. But the general was too proud to endure their cold stares. Every time the general finished business in the capital, if he wasn’t in a hurry to return to the border, he’d take a trip to the capital suburbs. In his words, those old friends weren’t as high-ranking as he was.”

Those old friends weren’t necessarily old, and they weren’t doing poorly. They had simply died early.

Cheng Qing sighed.

The speaker meant nothing, but the listener took it to heart.

Such casual remarks carried great meaning for Cheng Qing, a scholar.

Commandant Wang Ji didn’t know that Deputy Captain Cheng was overthinking. He simply continued, “So I went with him to the Arsenal Directorate’s direct office. But that friend of the general happened to be busy, so I had to sit with the general in the side hall. We drank a bellyful of tea all afternoon—few tea leaves, but plenty of water. The general was quite cheerful, saying that officials in our Ministry of War were simply poor, genuinely poor, unlike the Ministry of Rites, which pretended to be poor. The general was always loud, and this happened to be overheard by a clerk outside. Soon, a small jar of tea leaves was brought in. The clerk said to the general with a smile, ‘Go ahead and use plenty of leaves. Things are different now. The Ministry of Revenue used to be skinflint—they even rationed tea leaves by the tael. Now they’ve gotten generous and finally weigh by the catty.’ The general was waiting for that. He immediately stood, cupped his fists, and said, ‘Thanks to your auspicious words. I owe it to the old Colonel Liu I once served under—he’s now a Vice Minister of Revenue.’”

“That old clerk burst out laughing, saying, ‘Well, we’re half-family then!’ They asked each other about their border army careers and indeed found a connection. It turned out that when Vice Minister Liu was a colonel, our general was a scout commandant. And when Vice Minister Liu first enlisted, that clerk was already a squad leader. The general offered to let the clerk sit and drink tea while he kept watch. The clerk smiled and said, ‘No need. One thing is one thing. Drinking a punishment drink on the border is fine, but in the office, punishment wine wouldn’t taste good.’”

Hearing this, the youth asked, “Commandant, didn’t you volunteer to play doorman?”

Wang Ji was startled and shook his head. “I was too busy enjoying the moment. Didn’t think of it.”

The youth clicked his tongue. “Commandant, you’re a great soldier and killer of enemies. Even holding up two thumbs wouldn’t be enough. But you really aren’t cut out to be an official. If it were me, I’d have run to the door to keep watch, just to let the old squad leader and the general share a pot of tea.”

Wang Ji pushed the youth’s head and laughed. “The general said I’m not good at being an official. I accept that. But you, a little squad leader, dare to lecture a commandant?”

Wang Ji had planned to stop talking, but seeing that the comrades around him seemed to enjoy these old anecdotes, and the youth kept pressing about the capital, he continued. “I never got inside the Ministry of War, but the general made a special trip to take me to Yi Chi Lane and Chi Er Street.”

Those two capital lanes were famous for teeming with military offspring.

The youth’s eyes were full of longing. “How was it? Was