Chapter 769: Good Calculations
After entering Entry City, Chen Ping'an was in no hurry to take Pei Qian and Zhou Millie sightseeing. He first took out a yellow paper Yang Lamp Talisman from his sleeve, then formed a sword gesture with two fingers and lightly brushed it around the talisman. Chen Ping'an focused intently, observing the talisman's burning speed while silently counting in his mind. Only after the talisman had completely burned away did he say to Pei Qian, "The spiritual qi density is no different from outside the ferry ship at sea, but the flow of the River of Time seems to be slightly slower than the outside world. Let's try not to delay here too long—we should leave within a month."
Pei Qian nodded, understanding completely. This ferry ship city beneath their feet was most likely a fragmented mountain-and-river secret realm similar to a small cave heaven, merely refined by some expert, much like how Verdant Water Pit belonged to Green Bell Madam—it was already a small world of its own.
The spiritual qi within Entry City was thin, making it unsuitable for qi refinement cultivation. Of course, one couldn't rule out the possibility, as seen with Ten Thousand Jade Sect and Three Mountains Blessed Land, that someone or some place had devoured half, or even occupied more, of the spiritual qi and fortune, eventually causing a small world to collapse like the Great Sea returning to nothingness.
Pei Qian looked at the flowing crowds on the street, then raised her gaze higher, peering into the distance. Pavilions, terraces, towers, and pavilions—the farther they were, the clearer they became, completely defying common sense. It was as if, as long as the observer wished, they could see all the way to the ends of the earth and seas.
Pei Qian's gaze finally settled on a distant high-rise corridor. There, a palace maid with a lovely figure stood on tiptoe under the bright moonlight, raising her arm high, revealing a wrist like a segment of white jade, hanging a bamboo lantern. The palace maid suddenly turned around, her features delicate and beautiful, and smiled charmingly at Pei Qian. Unfazed by this, Pei Qian merely shifted her gaze slightly. In the distance, between two towering, cloud-piercing multicolored towers, a covered bridge stretched like a seven-colored rainbow suspended at the edge of the sky. At the center of the bridge stood a silver-eyed youth with antlers, his ten fingers intertwined and placed horizontally across his chest, his wide sleeves trailing the ground, resembling what celestial books described as 'a prince in his pavilion.' He was gazing back at Pei Qian.
Pei Qian shifted her gaze again. In a magnificent mansion built on a small hill, with vermilion towers and emerald tiles, carved beams and jade rafters, a woman in robes whose silken luster flowed like moonlight under water, wearing a golden crown, lounged sideways on a beauty's rest. She was applying rouge, gently dotting her lips. Catching Pei Qian's gaze, she seemed startled, immediately picking up a round silk fan. Yet, curiosity winning out, she only half-concealed her face behind the exquisitely painted fan, covered with dense patterns of a hundred flowers, and faced Pei Qian. The woman showed half of her bright red lips and half of her snow-white face. After apparently determining that Pei Qian's appearance was unremarkable, she raised an eyebrow slightly—her expression sharp but not lascivious, merely carrying a hint of provocation.
Pei Qian immediately withdrew her gaze and rubbed her forehead. Just glancing into the distance a few times had left her somewhat dizzy. She refocused her eyes, choosing to look at closer scenery and pedestrians. At the corner at the end of the street before them, a squad of mounted patrol riders appeared. The lead rider held a long halberd; both rider and horse wore armor. The armored general's iron armor was as dense as fish scales. The road was congested, crowded with people. The armored general occasionally raised his halberd, lightly brushing aside passersby who accidentally bumped into the squad, his strength precise, harming no one.
Pei Qian first gave Chen Ping'an a general account of what she had seen, then said softly, "Master, these people in the city... they're a bit like the 'Living Immortals' mentioned in an ancient book from the Yu family. They're quite different from the 'Half-Dead' like the Talisman Beauties of Fox Country, or the Paper Men of White Paper Blessed Land."
Talisman puppets were the lowest tier. They relied on a spark of spiritual light within the talisman's core as support—a celestial 'dotting the eye' that opened their orifices and gave birth to intelligence. They didn't truly possess their own physical bodies or souls.
Chen Ping'an, however, was hearing "Living Immortals" for the first time and was very curious. He asked via heart voice, "Living Immortals? What do you mean?"
Pei Qian was startled for a moment and glanced at her master, mistakenly thinking he was testing her knowledge. Only after confirming that her master genuinely didn't know the term did she explain the records from that obscure, esoteric book. The most crucial line was that the living people's souls were separately imprisoned in a Water Prison of Inverted Characters, or within a Prison Mountain Ode of stacked peaks. However, the book didn't mention any method to break the confinement.
Chen Ping'an nodded. That sounded somewhat similar to the nature of Pu Yu's life-bound flying sword, where the transition between reality and illusion hinged on a single thought. But besides Cui Chan and Cui Dongshan, who in the world could manifest so many such thoughts? And how could they sustain the 'self-narratives' and 'self-reflections' of so many city residents? Or were all the locals of Entry City simultaneously subjected to the methods of White Paper Blessed Land? It was a pity Cui Dongshan wasn't nearby; otherwise, this student likely would be in his element once inside this city.
Thinking back to his early travels—whether journeying with Lu Tai in Parasol Leaf Continent or encountering the black-robed scholar in Ghost Territory Valley—Chen Ping'an had always hoped that future generations of Fallen Mountain would not be like him, poorly read and suffering for it. He wished that someday, when they descended the mountain for training, relying on the mountain's extensive library, they would be well-informed and knowledgeable, gaining an advantage in seeking opportunities and encountering fewer unnecessary surprises.
Now it seemed that Pei Qian, the senior disciple he had least expected, was the first to achieve this. Of course, this was inseparable from Pei Qian's exceptional memory and how quickly she learned boxing.
It seemed that on the path of life, there were often many "I thought" and "only to discover" moments.
Pei Qian crouched down. Zhou Millie rummaged through her basket. For this trip, adhering to the Rivers and Lakes' principle of not revealing one's treasures, the little girl in black didn't bring her small golden carrying pole, only carrying a green bamboo staff.
Chen Ping'an and Pei Qian placed Little Millie between them, protecting her as they stepped together into the city's bustling streets. The pedestrians chattered in a jumble of voices, some chatting about household matters, others arguing or joking. Two men approached from the opposite direction. Chen Ping'an and his group made way. The two men were arguing about the line "Armor glimmers with sunlight, golden scales open"—one quoting scriptures to say it should be "facing the moon," while the other, red-faced, insisted otherwise. Unable to resolve the dispute, one suddenly threw a punch, knocking his companion to the ground. The fallen man got up, unangered, and immediately shifted to arguing about the authenticity of a "After the Rain" calligraphy scroll.
Pei Qian said softly, "Master, everyone is speaking the Great Elegant Speech of Central Continent Divine Land."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Observe more, listen more."
The squad of cavalry riders arrived. Both men and horses were armored, as if cutting through thorns and brambles. The pedestrians on the street scattered. The lead rider slightly lifted his halberd, its tip still pointing towards the ground, so he didn't seem overly condescending or overbearing. The rider general said in a deep voice, "Who goes there? State your names."
Chen Ping'an cupped his fists and smiled. "Cao Mo."
Pei Qian answered, "Zheng Qian."
Little Millie imitated them, saying, "Zhou Yaba."
The rider general nodded and warned, "Within the city, no brawling, no coercing sales, no unauthorized levitation to ascend. Other than that, there are no restrictions."
After this brief inquiry without conflict, the cavalry squad turned their horses and continued their patrol down the street. They went to a nearby bookshop. Chen Ping'an found that most of the books for sale were finely printed local gazetteers. He flipped through over a dozen, all ancient texts from venerable dynasties of the Haoran World. The one in his hand, the "Tanzhou Prefecture Gazetteer," was organized by dynasty, listing territories, ceremonies, famous officials, loyal martyrs, literary gardens, martial achievements, and so on, with extreme detail. Many gazetteers also included appendices on aristocratic families, memorial arches, water conservancy, charity schools, tombs, etc. Chen Ping'an gently rubbed the paper with his finger and sighed. Buying books would be a waste—every book and page was a manifestation of some divine magical method, not tangible substance. If the prices were fair, he might not mind hoarding them and taking them back to enrich Fallen Mountain's library.
Chen Ping'an kept picking up books and putting them down. He couldn't find any gazetteers from dynasties like Great Li or Great Duan within the shop.
Looking without buying was certainly not the kind of customer any shop in the world would appreciate. But Chen Ping'an was prepared to be expelled and used this opportunity to roughly gauge the age of the ferry ship.
The bookshop owner was a refined, elderly scholar currently reading. He didn't seem to mind Chen Ping'an's rifling through the books, potentially damaging their condition. After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the extraordinarily patient old man finally asked with a smile, "Where do you guests come from?"
Hearing the question, Zhou Millie recalled the good Mountain Lord's earlier warning. The little girl immediately became alert, quickly covering her mouth with both hands.
Chen Ping'an rubbed Little Millie's head and smiled back at the shopkeeper, "We come from outside the city."
"Saying 'we come from whence we came' would have been nice too," the old shopkeeper shook his head and muttered to himself. Apparently too disappointed with Chen Ping'an's answer, he fell silent.
Chen Ping'an smiled and asked, "Shopkeeper, how many places sell books in the city?"
The old shopkeeper said helplessly, "How would I know that? This guest does have a talent for jokes."
A gaunt, elegantly dressed man wearing a Confucian scholar's robe, with a magnificent beard, strode laughing into the bookshop. Without sparing Chen Ping'an's group a glance, he walked straight to the counter and said cheerfully to the elderly shopkeeper, "Those clusters of peaks standing tall must have been, thousands or tens of thousands of years ago, eroded by the great floods in the valley. All the sand and soil was washed away, leaving only the giant boulders steadfast, thus standing as peaks."
The shopkeeper's eyes lit up. "Chief Proofreader Shen, your learning is profound! Such fanciful thoughts, as if heaven itself opened up—this must surely be the correct explanation."
The old shopkeeper immediately bent down, took out writing brush and ink from the cabinet, then retrieved a narrow slip of paper from a drawer, wrote down these words, gently dried the ink, and finally turned around, pulled out a book, and placed the slip inside it.
The old shopkeeper closed the book on the counter and handed it to this old customer surnamed Shen. The latter tucked it into his sleeve and left with a hearty laugh. As he reached the threshold, he suddenly turned his head, stroked his beard, and asked, "Young man, do you know about the Method of Interstitial Accumulation, the Technique of Circular Calculation, the Discipline of Obstruction, and that Emptiness Can Contain Sound?"
Chen Ping'an smiled and shook his head. "I do not."
In truth, Chen Ping'an knew a bit about these—otherwise, when he was in Mirage City's Yellow Flower Temple, he wouldn't have borrowed those books from Liu Mao. But in Entry City, it was better to feign ignorance.
"What's wrong with young people these days? For every question, it's three 'I don't knows.'"
The elegantly bearded man, addressed by the shopkeeper as 'Chief Proofreader Shen,' looked disappointed, his expression full of regret. He changed from stroking his beard to pulling it, as if in pain, shook his head with a sigh, and quickly walked away.
Chen Ping'an led Pei Qian and Little Millie out of the bookshop.
Pei Qian said softly, "Master, that Scholar Shen, and the book the shopkeeper gave him later... they both seemed... real."
Chen Ping'an raised a finger, signaling her to be silent and not discuss this further.
Unexpectedly, the bearded scholar had already turned back, still unwilling to give up. He took out the book the old shopkeeper had given him and asked again, "Young man, what year is it in the Great Extension Calendar? If you know, I'll give you this book."
Chen Ping'an smiled and took out a Small Summer Coin from his Summonable Object. It was one he had treasured for a long time. He raised his right hand, palm open, revealing the immortal's coin. On one side was the seal script inscription, "I always envy the one who grinds jade in the mortal world."
Chief Proofreader Shen's expression shifted slightly. Chen Ping'an used his left hand to pinch the Small Summer Coin, about to flip it over. The elegantly bearded man caught a glimpse of the character "Su" on the reverse side, winced in distress, turned his head away, and waved his hand repeatedly. "Cunning little thief, I'm afraid of you. Go, go, go. Let's part ways here, and may we never meet again."
Chen Ping'an put the immortal's coin away. Pei Qian blinked. "Master, is this the man who loves to inscribe 'Sent on a Mission, Passing Through Here' on cliffs everywhere?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "I just don't know why he's here. Though I thought this old gentleman would fly into a rage and throw that book at my face."
Zhou Millie sighed, "The human heart is truly hard to fathom. The Rivers and Lakes are treacherous indeed."
Chen Ping'an patted Little Millie's head and smiled, "The official sea is full of ups and downs, clouds treacherous and waves unfathomable. Indeed, the Rivers and Lakes are treacherous."
On the street, there was a fortune-telling stall. An old Taoist was so skinny he was all skin and bones. In front of his stall, he had drawn a half-circle on the ground with charcoal, shaped like a half moon, just covering his stall. Many street children who knew him were chasing and playing nearby, laughing and joking. The old Taoist slammed his hand heavily on the stall, cursing, and the children immediately scattered in all directions. Spying Chen Ping'an passing by, the old Taoist quickly straightened a crooked banner leaning beside him, on which was written, "If you seek the secret of longevity, first pass this immortal's altar." Suddenly, he roared, "Ten thousand taels of gold won't buy the Dao, but on this street corner, I'll give it to you..."
Unexpectedly, the three of them walked straight past the stall, not only ignoring him but deliberately pretending not to see him, eventually entering a weapons shop next door. The old Taoist withdrew his longing gaze, sighed in frustration, and muttered, "Rowdy fools, rowdy fools, they don't recognize the Great Dao."
Next to the fortune-telling stall, there was another small stall. On a piece of cotton cloth lay some old bottles and jars. A man, looking sickly and listless, was dozing with his head drooping. The earlier shouting from the neighboring old Taoist hadn't woken him. When the old Taoist turned around, he suddenly said, "You blockhead, you've got customers! Wake up!" The man jerked his head up, found no one at his stall, and went back to dozing. The old Taoist couldn't stand the man's laziness and sneered, "In years past, Brother Jing was so bold and gallant! Now he's just a wretched peddler, swindling people and not even making a living."
The man simply closed his eyes and rested. The old Taoist stood up from his long bench and kicked over a nearby small gilded jar, about the size of a palm. The old Taoist mocked, "You say this came from the palace, and maybe some fool might believe it. You say this thing is a Sea Gate, capable of raising a flood dragon—who'd believe that? Oh my, gilded? It's not even gold leaf, is it? Look at that, sinful, sinful—the color is coming off."
The man, incredibly good-tempered, silently bent down, picked up the small water jar that had lost its color from the kick, and set it straight again.
The old Taoist kicked the jar over once more.
The man set the item straight again, this time placing it on a corner of the cotton cloth farther from the Taoist. He said gloomily, "The common people only know about the ancestor who rode the green ox. Who would know about you? Those who know you wouldn't come here anyway. You're no different, sitting here every day drinking the northwest wind."
The old Taoist sat back on his bench and sighed deeply. Many of the city's old neighbors, like aged folk, were gradually fading away.
And the two of them, neighbors at their stalls, no matter what, could still stay here. One had once ridden a green ox, wandering the world, seeking a painting of the True Forms of the Five Sacred Peaks, the Ancestor's Chart. The other had once ridden a weak, lame old donkey, tottering along, with a bearded swordsman carrying a great bow on the donkey's back. His three-foot sword and six-jun bow could both be used to enter water and slay dragons.
Chen Ping'an entered the shop and picked up a scabbard, drawing the blade. The blade was narrow and incredibly sharp, with the inscription "Little Eyebrow." Chen Ping'an flicked it with his finger. The blade vibrated but made no sound, only creating ripples like water patterns. Chen Ping'an shook his head. It was a good blade, and moreover, the only 'real' blade in this shop. He was just disappointed that he couldn't hear clearly the words of the old Taoist and the peddler; their voices were muffled. This world was far too strange.
The shopkeeper, a burly and imposing man, laughed, "Here you are, a man who carries a sword, but you come to my shop to pick a blade. Improper, improper."
An old man in a blue robe was pleading bitterly, "My ancestors' calligraphy scroll, truly cannot be shown to outsiders. Please, do me a kindness, just sell it to me."
The burly shopkeeper glanced askance at the old man, too lazy to even respond.
A commotion arose on the street. Chen Ping'an returned the blade to its scabbard, put it back in its place, and asked the shopkeeper, "How much for this blade?"
The shopkeeper laughed, "If you want to buy the blade, you can. It's not expensive. You only need to exchange it for a bowl of Chuzhou Sour Plum Drink, half a jin of Tongling White Ginger, and some seasonal tender lotus root from Tangshan."
Chen Ping'an smiled and asked, "May I ask where these three things can be found?"
The shopkeeper replied, "Inside another city."
The commotion on the street grew louder, accompanied by the sound of hooves. The earlier squad of patrol cavalry was escorting someone to the front of the weapons shop. It was an elegant young scholar.
The scholar entered the shop, holding a wooden box. Seeing Chen Ping'an and his group, he looked somewhat surprised but didn't speak. He placed the wooden box on the counter and opened it. Inside was exactly a bowl of Sour Plum Drink, half a jin of White Ginger, and several pieces of snow-white tender lotus root.
Seeing this, the burly shopkeeper's eyes grew somewhat moist. Without a word, he came around the counter, apologized to Chen Ping'an, picked up the long knife named "Little Eyebrow," and tossed it to the scholar.
The old man who had been begging for the calligraphy scroll earlier said sourly, "Lord Shao the City Lord, here again to scrape, huh? Just casually strolling through the three cities—isn't this a bit like using public office for private gain?"
The young scholar directly hung the knife at his waist before smiling back at the old man, "Even for me, entering or leaving the End to Beginning City once is not easy."
The scholar named Shao thought for a moment and then said to the shopkeeper, "Kindly bring out that scroll without words. I will make amends for it."
The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes. "Shao Baojuan, you've thought this through? Be careful you don't lose your hard-won position as city lord."
The scholar smiled without speaking. The shopkeeper produced a scroll. It had no characters, but the fragrance of flowers was overwhelming. The seal affixed read "Jixidian Treasure."
Chen Ping'an stood by with his hands in his sleeves, watching the spectacle.
Shao Baojuan. The City Lord of Elsewhere.
The Sour Plum Drink of End to Beginning City, the Tongling White Ginger, and the Tangshan tender lotus root.
This meant that on this ferry ship, there were at least three cities.
The young scholar was full of smiles. He glanced at Chen Ping'an.
Chen Ping'an immediately smiled back and nodded apologetically, turning away.
Shao Baojuan extended a finger and 'wrote' on the characterless scroll. The shopkeeper smiled and nodded, put away the budding scroll with its rich fragrance, and then took out another scroll. Its opening line read, "This son is obtuse by nature," and it ended with "Beg for the dismissal of Bing." The shopkeeper gave this scroll to the scholar and said, "Congratulations, Lord Shao. You have obtained another treasure."
Shao Baojuan handed the scroll to the old man and softly uttered the character "Bing." The scroll immediately burst into flames.
The old man was first shocked, then overjoyed. He took the burning scroll—'True Flame as Emptiness'—with both hands, as if finally having his wish fulfilled. When the scroll was completely burnt to ashes, the old man wept then and there, bowing endlessly to the young city lord.
The young scholar only said that he had long admired the old man's ancestors and that this was only right.
The old man wiped his tears, then took a small pouch from his sleeve, embroidered with the characters "E Lu." He also produced a slender rope about a foot long, badly frayed.
The old man chuckled softly, "This pouch of dai-ink, exactly five hu in weight. This, plus this slender rope—Lord Shao City Lord, you are only missing that embroidered slipper. Then you can meet Lady Kongtong."
Shao Baojuan thanked him and, without false courtesy, put the pouch and the rope directly into his sleeve.
The old man, beaming with joy, hurried away.
The young scholar looked at Chen Ping'an and the two children, then glanced at Pei Qian and Zhou Millie's staffs. He suddenly said, "Ju Ju Continent, Mural City, Swaying River."
Chen Ping'an thought for a moment. "Lightning Flash, Ghost Territory Valley, Accumulated Cloud Mountain."
Shao Baojuan smiled knowingly. "It really is you."
Chen Ping'an smiled back. "So it was you."
Back when he had first traveled to Northern Ju Ju Continent, passing through Swaying River, he had played dumb, feigning ignorance, and politely declined a celestial opportunity. Behind him was Mural City, where the Ink-Hanging Goddess, most skilled in battle, had quickly bonded with a wandering stranger and acknowledged him as her master. It was only much later, through Fallen Mountain's retainer, the Nascent Soul cultivator Du Wensi of Funeral Linen Sect, and a secret sect archive, that Chen Ping'an learned that the Thunder Pool on Accumulated Cloud Mountain within Ghost Territory Valley was once a broken Sword Washing Pond of the Pivot Courtyard, one of the ancient Thunder Ministry's 'One Mansion, Two Courts, Three Bureaus.' Later, when he visited the master and servant of Wooden Garment Mountain, the wanderer from Flowing Sunset Continent, along with the goddess bearing the ancient inkstone "Lightning Flash" at her waist, had claimed the opportunity. In fact, before those two, Chen Ping'an had been the first to encounter the Thunder Pool of Accumulated Cloud Mountain. But he couldn't move it, only digging up some 'golden bamboo shoots.'
Shao Baojuan took his leave.
Chen Ping'an nodded in acknowledgment.
As they left the shop, Chen Ping'an noticed the old Taoist loudly asking, "Young man! In your hometown, among the millions of cold-weather plum trees, is there even one that has blossomed?"
Shao Baojuan glanced at the silent Chen Ping'an, then turned and said with a smile, "Every year, millions of trees bloom. Nothing remarkable."
The old Taoist laughed heartily, stood up, flicked the small gilded water jar over to Shao Baojuan with the tip of his foot. The scholar caught it. The man crouching on the ground, dozing, pretended not to notice, completely unconcerned that his stall had lost a treasure.
Pei Qian was baffled. She asked softly, "Master, was that old Taoist asking you?"
How was it that this City Lord Shao Baojuan seemed to be wandering through Entry City, picking up treasures and bargains everywhere?
Chen Ping'an nodded, squinting with a smile. "No rush."
Pei Qian turned her head. She saw that Shao Baojuan had walked some distance away and was standing beside an old woman selling flatbread. He wasn't buying bread, nor leaving, just waiting there as if expecting someone.
Soon, a bald monk carrying a pole appeared. He was quite aggressive, walking very fast, and said indignantly, "We who have left the household life! We study the Buddha's majesty for a thousand kalpas, study the Buddha's subtle conduct for ten thousand kalpas, and still we cannot become Buddhas! How dare these southern demons speak of direct insight into the mind, of seeing one's nature and attaining Buddhahood! We should sweep their caves and burrows clean, annihilate their kind, to repay the Buddha's grace!"
Chen Ping'an stopped in his tracks, his expression grave.
As the monk passed the old woman, he set down his carrying pole, apparently intending to buy some bread.
The old woman pointed at the pole the monk had placed on the ground, and was about to speak, but Shao Baojuan preempted her: "What are these characters?"
The monk was about to answer.
Chen Ping'an saw that Shao Baojuan was about to speak again and frowned. He said to the scholar via heart voice, "This is a Buddhist gongan. What do you have to do with it?"
Shao Baojuan smiled slightly, turning his head. It seemed he was waiting for Chen Ping'an to say just that. He immediately asked via heart voice, "What is the meaning of the Patriarch's coming from the West? Is a Taoist carrying a leaking wine vessel?"
"Oh?"
The old Taoist at the stall, as if overhearing their heart voices, immediately stood up, but his gaze was fixed solely on Chen Ping'an.
Chen Ping'an smiled, but looked only at the young scholar. "Step by step, link upon link. You have some good calculations indeed."