Chapter 803: First Blood
Chen Ping'an, carrying his sword on his back again, appeared at the foot of the steps outside the Confucian Temple's main gate.
Lin Junbi had quite the nerve, hadn't he? Had he just sobered up?
Seeing Chen Ping'an climbing the stairs, Lin Junbi immediately dispelled his alcohol fumes and called out, "Hidden Lord," then smiled without saying anything more.
Chen Ping'an nodded and praised, "Daring to be drunk and disorderly right outside the Confucian Temple's main gate—Junbi, you've got quite an official's air about you, oozing domineering presence. You'd better bring a big basket with you when you go out, so you don't accidentally hurt anyone."
Lin Junbi was utterly abashed.
Nearby, some cultivators who had come out to drink and unwind cast sidelong glances at the figure in the blue robe. They couldn't help but pay attention.
Those qualified to discuss matters here had exceptionally keen sources of information. They knew that this young man carrying a sword, despite his smiling demeanor, actually had a terrible temper. An extremely bad one.
As the Hidden Lord in the previous council, this very person had dared to disregard the entire Moon Embracing Mountain and the whole of the Wildlands, declaring war. And now the Confucian Temple had indeed followed through.
Moreover, as a disciple of the Sage of Literary Arts, he was even more formidable than his senior brother, Zuo You.
Right under the noses of all the sages in the Confucian Temple, at Mandarin Duck Shoal, he had fought the celestial being Yun Miao. Yun Miao had almost been forced to unleash the Nine Realms Immortal Lodge's mountain-guarding treasure, which would have been a fight to the death, not a sparring match. And he still wasn't satisfied—he'd gone on to provoke the Shao Yuan Dynasty? He'd beaten Jiang Longxiang not far from the city, and it was said that just now, he'd also beaten Ma Quxian, Pei Bei's senior disciple, using only the methods of a martial artist, causing the opponent to drop in realm! Hadn't Ma Quxian only reached the ninth realm less than twenty years ago? And now, his martial arts path, which had once held the promise of reaching the pinnacle, had been forcibly shattered. Whether Ma Quxian could ever return to the ninth realm was a serious question.
Three fights in succession—he'd fought a qi refiner, a scholar, and a pure martial artist?
He truly could fight, and his temper was truly terrible.
That Little Heavenly Master from Dragon Tiger Mountain exclaimed in surprise, "It's you?!"
They had met before at an inn in the Night Ferry Scroll Town. Zhao Yaoguang had never imagined that the blue-robed traveler he'd casually encountered would be Chen Shiyi, the Hidden Lord of the Great Wall of Swords.
"A leaf adrift returns to the sea; in life, where is there no reunion?"
Before descending the mountain back then, he had asked for a divination, and it had been a good omen. It hadn't been wrong—this journey, he always seemed to meet noble benefactors.
Just here at the Confucian Temple, he had finally met Mr. Zuo, whom he had long heard of but never seen. They had hit it off particularly well.
And now there was this famous Hidden Lord. As for that A Liang—he didn't count as a noble benefactor; he was a good brother to share hardships with.
Chen Ping'an smiled. "It's me. I didn't expect us to meet again so soon."
This nobleman, full of mountain qi, probably had no idea that the shop clerk who had sold them those items back then was actually Wu Shuangjiang.
Zhao Yaoguang made a Daoist salute, then stood up and apologized again, his smile radiant. "Last time on the ferry, I was rather rude. Lord Chen, with your great magnanimity, please don't hold it against me. If you do, that's fine too—when you come to Dragon Tiger Mountain next time, I'll definitely bring out a few jars of good wine, and let you settle scores with them."
Chen Ping'an clasped his fists and laughed. "If I travel through the Central Continent Divine Land without visiting the Heavenly Master Mansion on Dragon Tiger Mountain, it would be like a wasted trip. But let me say in advance—no need for gongs and drums to welcome guests."
The Five Thunder True Method of Dragon Tiger Mountain was unquestionably the world's rightful orthodox tradition. Chen Ping'an had long admired it and only hoped that during his next visit to the Heavenly Master Mansion, they would allow him to read a few more books.
Zhao Yaoguang was taken aback. Gongs and drums? What did that mean? Was the Hidden Lord hinting that he wanted a lively, grand reception? But he wasn't the current Heavenly Master—he couldn't go overboard. Their founding patriarch was still in excellent health, looking even younger than himself—a man with such strength that one could stand on his fist and ride on his arm.
Seeing that the Little Heavenly Master didn't understand, Chen Ping'an apologized, saying he was just rambling and not to take it seriously.
Lin Junbi had to explain to his obtuse friend, "A Liang once sneaked into Dragon Tiger Mountain, and I heard your Heavenly Master Mansion's hospitality was quite grand—constant thunder methods, gongs and drums clamoring."
Zhao Yaoguang finally understood and laughed. "That absolutely can't happen. Truly."
Because of the relationship with the Sage of Literary Arts, Dragon Tiger Mountain actually had decent ties with the Literary Arts lineage. As for Mr. Zuo's early sword duels, that was a personal grudge between swordsmen. Besides, that elder of the Heavenly Master Mansion, who was destined never to become a sword immortal, had later turned to cultivating the thunder method. He had rebuilt after destruction, turning misfortune into fortune, his Dao heart purified, his path promising. Whenever he drank with others, he never shied away from talking about his great tribulation back then. Instead, he would actively bring up that sword duel with Mr. Zuo, boasting that he had been struck by as many as eight of Zuo's swords, far more than some mere sword embryo or this or that swordsman. He would recount this feat with the air of a hero who felt honored despite defeat, his face full of pride.
Several groups of people chatting and drinking on the steps nearby all shared a similar impression.
This young Hidden Lord, returning to his homeland of Haoran, seemed easy to talk to, but that didn't mean he was easy to provoke.
Among them was an old man who took a big gulp of wine, glanced at the young man's figure—blue robe, sword on back, still very young—and couldn't help but sigh. "Youth is truly wonderful."
Chen Ping'an crossed the threshold together with the other two, entered the Confucian Temple, and ended up sitting in A Liang's spot.
Learning that A Liang had already gone on a distant journey, Chen Ping'an gave up the idea of visiting Lady Qingshen Mountain. He had originally planned to apologize, since the shop had used her mountain's wine as a front for many years. He had also thought about buying a few bamboo plants from her, because the small bamboo grove of the neighboring Great Lord Wei couldn't withstand much more plundering. Constantly egged on by the old cook, Little Mi Li thought about it every day, and as the mountain master, Chen Ping'an felt guilty.
He noticed that the table near him was completely empty—all the wine and fruits had been cleared away. Had A Liang robbed the place and then skipped town?
Lu Zhi asked, "After all this commotion, the Confucian Temple doesn't care?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "They won't. I acted with restraint, within the rules."
Qi Tingji teased, "Sword out at Mandarin Duck Shoal, fist striking at Aotou Mountain—just missing a kick that overturns Parrot Islet."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Master Qi, splendid literary talent."
Lu Zhi said, "Will Pei Bei come looking for trouble?"
If Pei Bei insisted on standing up for her disciple Ma Quxian, Chen Ping'an wouldn't gain any advantage.
Chen Ping'an replied, "We'll see. When the boat reaches the bridge, it will straighten out naturally. If it doesn't, we can get off the boat and go ashore."
Zuo You said calmly, "Ma Quxian has a master, and you have a senior brother. What's there to fear? Jun Qian's fists aren't light either."
Chen Ping'an turned and smiled. "Senior brother, you challenged two flying ascensions with your sword. When the Master hears, he'll surely be pleased."
No matter what happened on the Great Wall of Swords, his senior brother had said that in the Central Continent, he hadn't drawn his sword in far too long.
Zuo You didn't comment on that, only saying, "Regarding the matter of the Nine Realms Immortal Lodge, Song Zi from Zhuolu has already apologized to me. He also hopes you can go to the Zhuolu Commandery Academy for a few days and take charge of military strategy for the academy's Confucian scholars."
This was the benefit of having a master and a senior brother.
Chen Ping'an said doubtfully, "Song Zi from Zhuolu must have mistaken me for someone else. It would be better if you went, senior brother."
Zuo You glanced at Chen Ping'an.
Chen Ping'an immediately added, "If I have the chance, I'll definitely go to Zhuolu to attend lectures. But as for teaching at the academy—I'll have to refuse."
Zuo You nodded, said nothing more, and began to close his eyes and rest.
Lu Zhi asked curiously, "How old is that Pei Bei, anyway?"
Chen Ping'an replied, "If the official histories of the Dazuan Dynasty don't lie, she's not old—less than two hundred years."
Lu Zhi said, "So she's over two hundred."
Chen Ping'an had no response. What kind of logic was that?
Later, Chen Ping'an spoke with Fiery Dragon True Man using divine sense, asking about Zhang Shanfeng's recent situation, and said he was about to go to Northern Juzhou and would visit Crouching Peak this time.
Fiery Dragon True Man laughed. "Visiting is good, visiting is good. You must go. That kid Shanfeng has been breaking through realms so fast lately, no one can stop him. He just came out of seclusion not long ago. On this trip to Northern Juzhou, you'll definitely be able to see him."
Having a guest was always good—Crouching Peak would receive a visiting gift. After all, Crouching Peak was still poor. It wasn't exactly starving, but it wasn't a wealthy mountain either. They had no confidence in their words. Even in Northern Juzhou this was the case—money was a hero's courage. When they went to the Snowy Continent, where mountains were paved with immortal coins, they'd have to bow their heads and speak humbly.
Fiery Dragon True Man had always felt that his mountain friends were all rude, relying on their age to be thick-skinned. They were all mountain immortals, yet they didn't attend to their proper duties. Apart from being rich, none of them had particularly high cultivation. "Your own people—who wants to be your own people, you moneybags old bastards?"
So every time he came out of seclusion, the old true man would ask his chief disciples, including Yuan Lingdian, whether they had made any new friends lately, and whether they could invite them to the mountain as guests. Unfortunately, they were all fools, not understanding his true intent.
Hearing that Zhang Shanfeng had just broken through, Chen Ping'an was relieved. After hesitating for a long time, he cautiously mentioned to the old true man that he had encountered Liu Daochun of White Emperor City at Mandarin Duck Shoal.
The old true man was puzzled. "Liu Daochun? I've heard of him. But wasn't he suppressed by Brother Zhao of the Heavenly Master Mansion in Baoping Continent? When did he pop up? Brother Zhao, Brother Zhao, is this true? How did Liu Daochun sneak out? Was it because Liu Daochun's cultivation was too high, or did you just slap him with the Heavenly Master Seal without it landing firmly back then?"
Zhao Tianlai replied with a smile, "Not quite sure. I suppose after a long time, the Dao intent of the Heavenly Master Seal dissipated. Besides, I didn't use much force back then. As for how Liu Daochun ended up at Mandarin Duck Shoal, I have no idea."
Back when Fiery Dragon True Man had also served as the Dragon Tiger Mountain's external Grand Heavenly Master, they used to call each other "Old Heavenly Master." Now that he had shed that title, it was all "Brother Zhao."
It seemed that Dragon Tiger Mountain's refusal to let Zhang Shanfeng succeed to the position still left Fiery Dragon True Man somewhat aggrieved and resentful.
Yu Xuan chimed in with emotion, "Indeed, indeed. In the path of talismans, Dao intent is hard to preserve. It's like this old Daoist's talisman that holds up a mountain—if I don't actively withdraw it, in at most another thousand or eight hundred years, it will start to loosen."
Listening to the three old Daoists chat, Chen Ping'an's scalp tingled.
How had his private conversation with Fiery Dragon True Man been overheard by others?
The Talisman Immortal Yu Xuan and the Grand Heavenly Master were both accomplished Daoists, so surely they wouldn't stoop to eavesdropping. They weren't that idle. Could it be that they had deduced it through certain ripples along the river of time?
Chen Ping'an had to take the initiative to greet the two seniors.
Zhao Tianlai smiled. "The Hidden Lord's thunder method at Mandarin Duck Shoal was quite impressive."
Yu Xuan said with a grin, "Throwing pebbles to hit people—that's a bit much, but it was satisfying to watch."
Fiery Dragon True Man continued to doze off.
"Having defeated millions of sleep demons, my backbone now feels twice as spirited."
---
An old man and a young boy left Parrot Islet, taking a ferry to the manor on Aotou Mountain.
Because the young emperor wanted to take this crude ferry, his reasoning being that it would allow him to see more out-of-town cultivators. Perhaps among them might be a reclusive expert like the Hidden Lord, who would see his extraordinary bone structure and accept him as a disciple, only to later discover he was an emperor. The expert would then depart in regret, carrying a lifelong sorrow, and whenever he thought of it on his mountain, he would weep a bitter tear...
But when Yuan Zhou boarded the boat, he found that no one paid him any attention.
Standing by the railing, Yuan Zhou said, "Grandpa Yu, there's something not quite right about this deal of ours."
Although Yuan Zhou was the emperor of Xuanmi, he hadn't participated in the second council.
Yu Panshui's reasoning was that His Majesty was too young and had too much limelight. A gust of wind might blow his head away.
So he had worked hard to negotiate with the Confucian Temple. If His Majesty felt humiliated, he would just have to endure it. Yuan Zhou was naturally willing to endure. The Yuan family of Xuanmi had only founded the dynasty a few years ago; he couldn't become its last emperor.
Yu Panshui smiled. "Not right? Why didn't you say so earlier? No one sewed His Majesty's mouth shut."
Yuan Zhou said, "I'm an emperor after all. Words spoken are like water spilled—imperial edicts. If I go back on my word, the Hidden Lord will think less of me. Even worse."
On the way here, they had agreed to half-sell, half-give away that Kite Ferry boat, pretending it didn't exist in the imperial treasury.
The Xuanmi Dynasty had established ties with the Fallen Mountain, and there were some personal favors between them, all kept to a moderate degree.
Anyway, half of that favor would end up being credited to Yu Panshui, so he had goaded the emperor into coming.
But in the end, Emperor Yuan Zhou not only gave away a cross-continent ferry for free, but the Xuanmi Dynasty would also have to cover the maintenance costs of the kite.
Even after leaving Parrot Islet on the boat, Yu Panshui still felt...
Credit? Then at least say when you'll pay it back! We didn't ask, so you didn't mention it? Is that how you owe money?
And finally, he had the nerve to say, "To decline would be disrespectful, but to accept is to overstep"?
Yu Panshui rubbed his increasingly weathered face with his hand piece, thinking of the girl who had been a guest at his home back then—Pei Qian. She had seemed so honest and simple, a well-behaved child, so polite. If that old scholar hadn't shamelessly interfered, that extremely valuable 'Everywhere' artifact would almost have been given away, only to spin around and successfully return to his pocket.
How did a girl who wasn't greedy for money end up with such a money-grubbing master?
Yuan Zhou looked around and said out of nowhere, "Grandpa Yu, so in the outside world, there are so few yellow things."
At home, in the palace, it was different. Ever since he could remember, whenever he thought of that place, the young emperor's mind was filled with yellow things—tall ridgepoles stretching beyond sight, all bright yellow. The clothes he wore, the cushions he sat on, the plates and bowls on the table, the sedan chair swaying between the high walls—everything was yellow. As if that was the only color in the world.
Other colors: there was a library in the palace that was black, filled with precious books that the young emperor would never touch in his lifetime, but which outsiders would never lay eyes on.
As for the colors worn by ministers and nobles, they were like several winding streams, flowing in and out of his home every day, repeating endlessly. Often, old people would speak childish words, while young people uttered profound sayings. And he would sit on that throne, pretending to understand, and when faced with a major crisis he didn't know how to handle, he would glance at the fat Yu.
For this de facto emperor of Xuanmi, many white-haired civil officials, when Yu Panshui wasn't around, had more or less hinted things to the young boy. Yuan Zhou understood, but pretended not to. Some old people genuinely meant well for him; others wanted to see Yu Panshui leave the court so that many official positions would shift forward a step. But Yuan Zhou ignored them all. At most, he would occasionally cooperate with the old people, grinding his teeth or slightly reddening his eyes. Actually, it was quite troublesome. In the end, he had to remind the eunuchs of the Palace Directorate to remember to mention his little theatrical gestures when they reported to Yu Panshui.
Why make trouble? What benefit would it bring him? Yu Panshui wasn't going to become emperor, and the Xuanmi Dynasty would always need the Yu family as its backbone. So a little brat like him shouldn't stir things up.
The old apricot tree in the palace, said to have been planted by a founding emperor two dynasties ago, would be covered with golden leaves in autumn. Every year the leaves fell, and every year new green leaves grew.
The deeply rooted Zhongtu Yu family, however, stayed evergreen and never shed its leaves.
Yu Panshui, rare in showing some paternal affection, touched the boy's head gently and said softly, "Being the head of the family is always hard."
The boy tilted his head and complained, "That's the emperor's head you're touching."
Yu Panshui laughed heartily and patted the boy's face. "On this trip far from home with you, Grandpa Yu is in a good mood. So whoever you want as your empress in the future, you can choose yourself. Whether she's a Yu or not, it doesn't matter."
Yuan Zhou stomped his foot. "I heard that Yu Juanfu and Yu Qingqing, the two most beautiful Yu sisters, already have their hearts taken. Who's left for me to choose? Huh?!"
Yu Panshui said slyly, "I know that Qingqing has her eye on Lin Junbi. As for Juanfu, I've heard she had two fist fights with the Hidden Lord on the Great Wall of Swords, hehe—does Your Majesty understand?"
Yuan Zhou clapped his hand with his fist in heartfelt admiration. "Sister Juanfu has excellent taste—oh, wait, isn't that sister-in-law? No, little sister-in-law?"
Yu Panshui gave the little brat a slap that left him dazed.
At Panshui County Town.
A young scholar, shabbily dressed, found a flying-ascension realm grand cultivator who was recuperating from injuries.
Jing Hao, the Grand Guardian of the Green Palace, despite being severely injured by Zuo You, still hadn't left, as if waiting for the Confucian Temple to give him justice.
The one who had blocked Zuo You, then fled, then apologized, was the first to run back to the residence to act as a gatekeeper.
He was only a Jade Perfection realm cultivator, and it wasn't shameful to guard a residence for a flying-ascension grand cultivator.
The other mountain hangers-on had mostly scattered like birds and beasts, claiming they didn't want to disturb Elder Jing's recovery.
But before this Jade Perfection cultivator's eyes went dark, he collapsed. As he lost consciousness, he vaguely saw a blue robe brush past him.
The courtyard was elegant and quiet, with a cluster of lush green plantains so plump they seemed ready to drip water.
Jing Hao walked out of the house and looked at the young scholar standing in the yard. Since he couldn't discern the other's cultivation depth, it meant his realm was very high.
The uninvited guest seemed at leisure, tiptoeing to pull down a plantain leaf, lightly flicking it a few times.
With Zuo You's sword attack as a warning, Jing Hao didn't get angry immediately. He smiled amiably and said, "A fellow Daoist visits my humble abode—I've failed to welcome you properly."
Chen Zhuoliu looked at this man, known as the finest spellcaster in Liuxia Continent, the Grand Guardian of the Green Palace, and shook his head. "Your Green Palace Mountain really gets worse with each generation. You're degenerating."
Jing Hao smiled. "Does the fellow Daoist have some old connection with our Green Palace Mountain's founder?"
Chen Zhuoliu couldn't be bothered to beat around the bush. "Doesn't your master have a portrait of me hanging in her room?"
The Grand Guardian of the Green Palace immediately bowed deeply without a word, a tremor in his voice—whether from excitement or awe, who could tell? "Junior Jing Hao pays respects to Immortal Lord Chen."
To be called an Immortal Lord by a flying-ascension realm cultivator, one could only be a fourteenth-realm grand cultivator, or at least a flying-ascension swordsman.
A swordsman.
The Dragon-Slayer.
The man who had imparted Dao to Zheng Juzhong of White Emperor City.
This sect secret was unknown even to Jing Hao's senior brothers and sisters. His master had only told him on her deathbed. Her expression complex, she revealed a shocking truth to him: that the Green Palace Mountain under their feet belonged to someone else, only lent to her, never truly theirs. That man had taken a few disciples, the most famous being Zheng Huai'xian of White Emperor City. If Green Palace Mountain ever faced trouble, she said, he should take that painting down the mountain and seek him out. If he couldn't find him, seek Zheng Huai'xian.
Jing Hao was the only son of a couple on the Green Palace Mountain's ancestral hall. When he was still a child, his parents, whose cultivation talent was mediocre, had begged and pleaded to get him accepted as a direct disciple of the previous mountain master.
Later, with a master-disciple relationship established, and because he was young, he had been allowed to visit his master's residence a few times, where he saw a hanging portrait of a man with an inscribed poem. Perhaps because the painting material was too coarse, the handwriting was blurred and many characters were missing.
"A blue robe smiles beyond the white clouds... The wild plum, thin as a shadow..."
When Jing Hao was young, he once asked an older senior sister about it. She guessed that it meant someone had gone down the mountain on a distant journey, leaving a beautiful woman to live alone in the mountains, growing thin and haggard.
Tracing back two generations from Jing Hao, his grand-master was actually a wild cultivator who had roamed the world, standing atop the peaks for a thousand years but never finding a suitable place to settle. It was said that later, his master, blessed with deep fortune, helped the grand-master find this Green Palace Mountain. They then established a sect, accumulated merits with the Confucian Temple, became a proper sect, flourished, and eventually became the top immortal residence on Liuxia Continent. Now it firmly held the number one spot.
For over three thousand years, Green Palace Mountain had been relatively smooth sailing, so Jing Hao had never had the opportunity to take the painting down the mountain.
His master's cultivation site had long been designated a sect forbidden ground. Apart from arranging for a nimble female cultivator to occasionally clean it, even Jing Hao himself had never set foot there.
Chen Zhuoliu sneered. "What, am I here to claim kinship today? To beg a few kowtows from a useless junior?"
Jing Hao lightly shook his sleeves, then knelt on the ground, prostrating himself, his forehead lightly touching the ground three times. "Junior will yield Green Palace Mountain to Immortal Lord Chen."
Jing Hao's master, as well as the grand-master who had once ranked among the top ten in Haoran, were both flying-ascension realm. Especially the latter, a wild cultivator from the Central Continent, was truly famous throughout the world.
This was true mountain tradition.
When Jing Hao took over Green Palace Mountain, he did well enough, smoothly cultivating to the flying-ascension realm.
But the current sect master of Green Palace Mountain—or rather, the former mountain master—was significantly inferior and would remain a celestial being for the rest of his life. This man had received Jing Hao's decree and had already gone into seclusion to reflect on his mistakes. After Jing Hao returned to Green Palace Mountain, he would issue another decree for this loose-lipped disciple. That good-for-nothing troublemaker had dared to slander his own master!
This man's direct disciples were at most at the Jade Perfection realm, and their future achievements on the Dao might not surpass his.
So the blue-robed scholar before him, who carried neither sword on his back nor at his waist, was not exaggerating when he said Green Palace Mountain declined with each generation.
As for Jing Hao's master, in her final thousand years of cultivation, she was quite pitiful. Unable to break through to a higher realm, she suffered a serious injury from a mountain feud, and had to turn to heretical paths. She couldn't completely sever the Three Corpses to reach the Pure Yang realm, only barely avoiding the calamity of sword dissolution. With a single thought of clarity, she left the mortal realm and entered the dark underworld, her form and spirit fitting with the ancient earth immortals, but ultimately unable to withstand the yearly erosion of the river of time, and her form dissipated between heaven and earth.
She passed down to Green Palace Mountain a technique called the Cast Sword Art, specifically designed for qi refiners who were not swordsmen, but stipulated that only one disciple per generation could study this sword art.
From small things like flowers, grass, and leaves, to large things like rivers, mountains, and peaks—all could be "cast like flying swords."
Earlier at the bamboo grove thatched hut, Dou Fenzia had used this Cast Sword Art when she threw pebbles and bamboo leaves.
Of course, it had originally been passed down by Chen Zhuoliu. Having toyed with the mortal world for thousands of years, this Dragon-Slayer was not merely confined to the situations of Jia Sheng or Bai Mang.
Jing Hao remained kneeling on the ground after straightening up.
Chen Zhuoliu clicked his tongue. "No wonder that silly girl chose you as the mountain lord. You're not much, but you're sharp. Get up. Your knees don't hurt from kneeling so long?"
Only then did Jing Hao stand.
He couldn't help but be so servile in front of this man.
Zuo You's sword attack, no matter how skilled, was only directed at Jing Hao alone.
But this unpredictable senior before him could, with a turn of his hand, overturn the entire Green Palace Mountain and all its hundreds of cultivators.
Chen Zhuoliu changed his mind and instructed, "Keep Green Palace Mountain, then. But there may be a friend of mine coming to visit in the future. Be sure to entertain him well. If you neglect your manners, I'll hold you accountable. Oh, and that disciple of yours who's been confined—I think he's passable. Let him continue as the mountain lord. If you don't want to, that's fine."
"Willing, I'm willing. That this disciple should be fortunate enough to catch Immortal Lord's eye is his good fortune, and my honor."
Seeing that the senior was about to leave, Jing Hao hurriedly bowed with clasped fists. "May I ask the Dao name or title of your mountain friend, Immortal Lord? So that your junior may recognize him when they meet."
Chen Zhuoliu strode away, laughing. "That good brother of mine looks like a green-clad child, with the Dao name 'Little Dragon King of Fallen Mountain.' When you see him, you'll recognize him at once."
Jing Hao kept his head down, saying solemnly, "I obey the Immortal Lord's decree!"
Only when the blue-robed scholar vanished abruptly did Jing Hao continue bowing for a moment, then slowly straighten up. A flying-ascension realm cultivator with "meridian-like golden branches and jade leaves, an almost flawless Dao body" was involuntarily covered in sweat.
Nevertheless, Jing Hao couldn't help but wonder who this "Little Dragon King" was—some ancient senior from the mountain peaks?
---
The group left the Parrot Islet residence and headed for the ferry. Li Baoping planned to take the ferry to the Confucian Temple to copy the Xiping Stone Classics.
Li Huai's head ached at the thought, but he dared not refuse, so he considered buying a few transcribed copies from the scribes, thinking he could bluff his way through, promising to read them later.
Before leaving the residence, Liu Chicheng took out a piece of multicolored cloud paper unique to White Emperor City, wrote an invitation letter on it, and placed it on the table.
It was, of course, an invitation to that girl who had called herself "Eight Coins," whose name he still didn't know, to come visit the Glass Pavilion of White Emperor City and enjoy the view. Her Brother Liu would be waiting, with the finest hospitality.
Li Huai was lying by the table, shaking his head as he watched. He summoned his courage to advise Senior Liu that the wording in the letter was too direct, lacking elegance and subtlety.
Waiting for the ferry on the shore, Liu Chicheng wasn't surprised at all by Chen Ping'an's disappearance. "Come in haste, go in haste—a busy man."
The Tender Daoist sneered, "So young, yet toiling and worrying all day. Who knows what he's in such a bustle about."
Li Huai complained, "Saying that about my brother to his face, huh? Not giving face, are you? Old Tender, if you keep playing the underworld like this, you won't be able to eat or drink well anymore."
The Tender Daoist immediately bent down, smiled apologetically, and whispered smoothly, "Young master, I was just finding a roundabout way to praise Chen Ping'an's sense of responsibility. There's a hidden meaning."
Gu Qingmin came swooping down at breakneck speed, landing with a thunderous crash, raising a storm. Many qi refiners waiting at the ferry were knocked off balance.
But when they saw the person's face, they all pretended to be admiring the water and hurried away, keeping their distance.
The old ferryman looked around and decided that only the Haoran Tender Daoist was qualified to chat with him. As for Liu Daochun of White Emperor City, what was all his flashiness about? Why didn't he just be a woman and marry Zheng Juzhong?
Gu Qingmin asked urgently, "Daoist Tender, where did that kid slip off to?"
Hearing this, the Tender Daoist felt refreshed and said amiably to this fellow traveler, "Daoist Gu, talking about that kid—the moment I wasn't looking, he was gone. Heaven knows where he went. Urgent business? If it's not too urgent, I can pass a message."
Gu Qingmin cursed loudly. So the kid was hiding from him?
Li Baoping watched this old man whose language grew increasingly rough.
Gu Qingmin noticed her gaze, glared back, but held himself back. After all, she was just a young girl, and quite pleasant to look at, so full of spiritual energy—not something you see every day. So the old ferryman only used less than ten percent of his ability and said, "What are you staring at?!"
But as soon as the words left his mouth, Gu Qingmin himself felt...
He felt as if he had missed something important, but he couldn't recall it. It was right there, like trying to scoop the moon out of water—futile.
Liu Chicheng couldn't help but shiver, wanting to say something but stopping himself. Then he thought better of it and decided to follow Dragon Earl's example: let a friend die, not himself.
Damn it, once he got back to Panshui County Town, he would seriously ask Dragon Earl for that water-repelling technique.
Li Baoping averted her gaze and called out, "Brother."
It was a Confucian-robed scholar.
Li Xisheng.
Gu Qingmin, or rather, the Celestial Raft, stood speechless.
He had his suspicions about some things, but he dared not think too deeply.
If he was right, then this scholar who had once been... would be half a senior brother to his master.
The Great Master of the Jade Capital, who had accepted and taught two younger brothers on behalf of his master: Yu Dou and Lu Chen.
Li Xisheng asked with a smile, "Celestial Raft, what did you just say?"
Gu Qingmin stood dumbly.
Li Baoping said, "Brother, this senior is just temperamental. It's nothing."
Li Xisheng turned to Little Baoping and nodded with a warm smile.
As for the smile he had given Gu Qingmin earlier—it was, of course, worlds apart from his gentle smile to Li Baoping.
Li Huai bowed earnestly and said, "Greetings, Mr. Li."
Li Xisheng smiled. "Li Huai, as long as you don't deliberately form intentions, it will be fine."
Li Huai was confused but nodded anyway. Not understanding didn't matter; just do as told. Since Li Baoping called him brother, he was a scholar, and they were from the same hometown, he surely wouldn't harm him.
On and off the page, the world's truths were countless. But grasping firmly onto one or two was more useful than filling your head with truths or knowing them by rote.
Li Xisheng then spoke to Celestial Raft through divine sense, "There was a reason I removed some of your thoughts earlier. The truth, more talk won't help. Since things have come to this point, I won't repeat the trick. But in the future, when you encounter this sister of mine, you'll have to make a detour."
Gu Qingmin straightened his back and said respectfully, "No hardship at all! How could it be hardship!"
The old ferryman didn't fear this man's identity; he sincerely respected him.
Walking the world, to make people fear you, you just need a strong fist.
But to make people respect you, especially to make cultivators from all worlds willing to respect you, relying solely on high Dao magic still wasn't enough.
This was also why the old ferryman, among all the younger generation cultivators, held only Liu Jinglong of the Taihui Sword Sect in Northern Juzhou in high regard.
Otherwise, even if his Second Senior Uncle, the supposedly invincible Yu Dou, were standing here, Gu Qingmin admitted to himself that he wouldn't be the least bit intimidated.
In fact, Gu Qingmin had long rehearsed a speech, planning that when he visited the Jade Capital on the Azure Underworld and met Yu Dou, he would ask him point-blank: Second Senior Uncle, since you made it to Zhuo Fangting back then, why didn't you take the opportunity to fight Chen Qingdu? Was it out of too much respect for that old senior swordsman, or were you simply no match?
The old ferryman made a Daoist salute.
The scholar returned a bow.
Gu Qingmin took his leave, but instead of flying away from the ferry, he tossed a leaf into the water. It transformed into a small boat that drifted downstream. Since he couldn't find Chen Ping'an, he would hurry back to accompany Lady Gui, lest she be unhappy.
Li Xisheng walked over to Li Baoping and said softly, "You caused a bit of trouble back at the residence earlier. Be mindful in the future."
Li Baoping said, "With Little Master Uncle around, what do I have to fear?"
Li Xisheng smiled. "Right, right. Your big brother being here or not doesn't matter at all."
Li Baoping's eyes crinkled with laughter.
Liu Chicheng was envious. If he had such a big brother, he could wander through not just Haoran, but even the Azure Underworld lying down.
Li Xisheng turned and asked, "Master Liu, care to chat?"
Liu Chicheng's heartstrings tightened. He put on a blank look and said, "My senior brother is over at Panshui County Town. Why don't I guide you there, Mr. Li?"
He would rather die than chat with this Great Master. If they had to chat, let his senior brother do it. Once at Panshui, they could talk about anything. Chess techniques, Dao magic, immortality, the knowledge of the fourteenth and fifteenth realms—whatever.
Li Xisheng smiled. "Fine."
But Liu Chicheng felt as if he were being dragged away, flying in a long arc straight from Parrot Islet to a courtyard in Panshui County Town. He landed heavily and lay on the ground, staring blankly.
Li Xisheng, meanwhile, heard a thought and replied through divine sense, "Very well. A hundred years from now, at White Emperor City and the Jade Capital, I will each play a game of chess with Mr. Zheng."
Then Li Xisheng turned his gaze, still smiling, toward the rather unruly Tender Daoist.
The Tender Daoist wished he could redo things. He really shouldn't have eavesdropped on that conversation.
That kind of talk wasn't for just anyone to have with Zheng Juzhong. Playing chess was like someone on the Great Wall of Swords saying they wanted to duel Chen Qingdu, and Chen Qingdu agreeing. The principle was similar. As for who was who, whether it was Chen Qingdu—did it matter to him, Tao Ting? Of course not. Either way, it was just a few sword strikes to kill the Wildlands' Tao Ting, and it was over.
Li Xisheng smiled. "The word 'person' is easy to write, but being a person is hard. Fellow Daoist Tao Ting, you need to be careful."
Li Huai knew it was that "Old Tender" causing trouble again. He elbowed the Tender Daoist in the ribs and whispered, "Behave."
The Tender Daoist grumbled, "True, true. A person should behave."
Li Xisheng smiled.
The Tender Daoist sighed in relief.
The ferry docked, and the group boarded. The Tender Daoist obediently stood by Li Huai's side, feeling safer next to his young master.
Earlier, Han Qiaose of White Emperor City had flown to Parrot Islet, browsed the Traveler's Bazaar, and bought a mountain treasure suitable for ghost cultivators. It was expensive, and the item was good, but too costly—so by the time she arrived, it still hadn't sold.
Moreover, near the Confucian Temple, a cultivator openly acquiring a heavy ghost-cultivation tool was somewhat inappropriate and taboo.
But Han Qiaose had taken a liking to it at first sight and bought it. No one found it strange, though. This junior sister of the White Emperor City lord was famous for her eclectic magical arts. She, along with Liu Qi and Jing Hao of the Green Palace, followed the same cultivation path—high realm, many spells, broad divine powers. As long as the fight wasn't wildly mismatched, having a myriad of techniques gave an advantage in Dao discussions.
Compared to the various storms around the Confucian Temple, Han Qiaose's move was like a tiny skip across the water, completely unnoticed.
Han Qiaose returned to the Panshui residence and casually tossed the item to Gu Can, who was still playing Go by himself. "Still can't let go of the Book and Bamboo Lake?"
Gu Can shook his head with a smile. "Just going through the motions, for myself."
Han Qiaose didn't find anything contradictory in that statement.
In others' eyes, Gu Can was a madman. But in Han Qiaose's eyes, he was like beautiful jade, radiant.
Gu Can put away the pieces on the board. Not only did he play slowly, but even gathering the pieces was slow. Han Qiaose felt anxious just watching.
Then suddenly, a pink robe fell from the sky. Liu Chicheng hit the ground and began to play dead. Han Qiaose glanced outside the room. "Oh? Junior brother, not going to tattle to senior brother this time?"
Liu Chicheng said gloomily, "Don't mind me. I'm enjoying the view."
In another courtyard of the residence, Zheng Juzhong stood under the eaves, with his senior disciple Fu Jin standing nearby.
Zheng Juzhong smiled. "A halo around the moon heralds wind; a damp foundation stone betokens rain. The world's situation is becoming ever clearer."
He hadn't gone to the council by the river, but he had deduced more threads than those who had.
Zheng Juzhong looked at the sky, feeling somewhat relieved.
Fu Jin spoke up, "Master, I want to learn from Dong San'geng and travel alone through the Wildlands. It might take at least a hundred years."
In other words, he would set aside his master's and White Emperor City's plans, travel alone with his sword, and temper his cultivation. As for the impending collision between the two worlds, he would only draw his sword as he saw fit.
Zheng Juzhong nodded. "Why not? A good fisherman fishes for pleasure; a poor one fishes for fish."
In the Wildlands, the Golden Emerald City had quietly changed hands. The celestial woman Yu Hu, the city lord, had willingly accepted this, and the matter was extremely secretive.
Zheng Juzhong of White Emperor City.
Thus, for the Haoran world, he had scored first blood.