Chapter 820: Disarming Zheng Yang Mountain
Liu Xianyang stopped in his tracks, turned around, and stood on the steps, looking at the Zheng Yang Mountain swordsman responsible for the third sword duel.
Judging by the trail of sword light, the woman came from Little Lone Mountain, a part of Lovers' Peak. She was dressed entirely in night attire, with a stern countenance and a steady, imposing demeanor—clearly no pushover.
She had obviously been watching the battles closely from Little Lone Mountain, especially the second one. Yu Lin's loss had been too bizarre; it seemed that once he got close to Liu Xianyang, he fell into some kind of formation or restriction. So instead of flying her sword directly to the vicinity of First Thread Peak's mountain gate, she stopped between the Ancestral Mountain and Full Moon Peak, hovering in mid-air with her sword. She and Liu Xianyang, whose natal flying sword was extremely extraordinary, merely confronted each other from a distance.
After all, when swordsmen dueled, distance was never the real issue.
The wind from the sky blew, and the woman in black had her sword dragging a trail of white fireflies beneath her. Behind her, the mountain peaks were lush green, as if she were a female immortal riding her sword out of a green-and-blue landscape painting.
Liu Xianyang looked at this woman—not beautiful, but with an exceptionally ethereal posture while flying her sword—and felt he had learned a great deal. Next time he challenged someone's ancestral hall, he definitely wouldn't listen to Chen Ping'an's arrangements again. Stupidly landing at the mountain gate and climbing on foot? He should learn from this senior: step on the sword, turn into a rainbow, arrive, then suddenly halt. The essence of it, especially, was to choose a scenic spot with excellent views, becoming a figure in a painting for all the onlookers.
The woman in black formed sword gestures with both hands, and a faint golden crescent appeared at her fingertips. This swordsman, who had lived in seclusion on Little Lone Mountain for centuries, was thus revealing her identity. She came from Full Moon Peak of Zheng Yang Mountain. By announcing her identity to the challenger now, she was offering a salute.
Liu Xianyang immediately returned the salute with a single-handed sword gesture, but did not announce his title as a direct disciple of Dragon Spring Sword Sect. Instead, he simply introduced his hometown and name: "Liu Xianyang from old Li Zhu Cave Heaven, Huai Huang County."
Her expression was indifferent. "To the death?"
Liu Xianyang smiled. "Life or death, either is fine. I've long wanted to see just how high your Zheng Yang Mountain's so-called path to the top of the sword path really is."
She said, "Today, you'll get your wish."
Between First Thread Peak and Full Moon Peak, a pale cloud drifted by, but it actively detoured around the graceful figure hovering on her sword.
Obviously, she had already activated a protective spell to prevent Liu Xianyang's unknown flying sword from ambushing her.
The Ancestral Mountain then activated its grand protective formation. The entire First Thread Peak, except for the Sword Summit, was shrouded in rising mist. On the steps, water flowed silently like a stream, extremely clear. Liu Xianyang looked down and saw that the entire staircase was like a layer of green tapestry woven by immortals, shimmering faintly under the sunlight. This formation did not target Liu Xianyang; it only protected the landscape of First Thread Peak from being ravaged by the fierce sword duel between peak sword immortals.
The unknown female swordsman's figure suddenly vanished. At the same time, a golden longsword materialized out of thin air above First Thread Peak. It was the mountain-guarding treasure of an old peak that had been struck from Zheng Yang Mountain's records.
Then the sword's body twisted into several arcs, interwoven with lightning, like a golden whip left in the mortal world by a Thunder God. Thunder rumbled in the sky. In an instant, this unusual ancient sword dragged a brilliant golden beam hundreds of feet long, pulling a crescent arc in the high sky, and smashed down fiercely toward the tall man standing on the steps of First Thread Peak.
Liu Xianyang formed a sword gesture with one hand, a speck of golden light appearing at his fingertip. He pressed his two fingers together and gently drew a circle. A golden line stretched out, forming a circular line around him. Liu Xianyang then snapped his fingers, and the circular line became a golden sphere enveloping him, like a miniature sun that had been refined and imprisoned, now cute and small, as if casually placed on the steps by an immortal. The golden light was thick as water, radiant, with an aura of ascension.
Swordsman Liu Xianyang stood in the center, his sleeves fluttering.
The whip struck the ground. From the sacred path of the mountain climb to the mountain gate archway, layers of green tapestry formed by the ripples of the formation stacked up, eventually being drilled into a crack several feet deep by the arc of lightning.
Below the halfway point of First Thread Peak, from the lightning whip as thick as a wellhead, hundreds of golden lightning serpents scattered and scurried endlessly.
If not for the Ancestral Mountain's formation protecting the mountain's roots and water veins, that single whip strike would have destroyed the sacred path and split the archway in two.
Yet this imposing lightning whip could not break Liu Xianyang's golden circular formation. At the foot of First Thread Peak, countless lightning whips crisscrossed, weaving into a net, as if a Thunder God hidden in the clouds was wielding a whip and wildly smashing the mortal world.
Among the peak-observing cultivators, all those who were not earthly immortals held their breath, their hearts pounding.
A slight disturbance in heaven and earth's spiritual energy, and the woman appeared again in an ethereal form. She raised a crystalline left hand, revealing the "golden branches and jade leaves" of her meridians and bones, every detail visible.
She made a grasping motion with her right hand and slowly pulled. She frowned slightly, as if enduring the excruciating pain of her soul shaking. From the palm of her left hand, she drew a narrow, emerald-green dharma blade, seemingly refined from a dark green river, engraved with the ancient seal script characters "Bing Dao" (parallel blades). The blade body was like water, gently rippling and swaying.
Liu Xianyang glanced at the strange phenomenon of the woman drawing her blade "from its sheath."
From the area of First Thread Peak to the summit of Full Moon Peak, a snow-white straight line slanted out without warning. The sword light shot straight through the woman's form, its momentum still surging unstoppably, piercing through a cliff on Full Moon Peak. The line of sword light went into the sky and lingered for a long time.
The woman's ghostly form dispersed into a cloud of yin wind and miasma, but at the spot where the sword light had pierced her heart, a fist-sized vortex of sword energy remained.
The blade-wielding ghost had its head, torso, and limbs split apart, barely held together by the gossamer threads of sword energy inside her body.
The golden longsword she controlled with her mind flew wildly through the air, continuously unleashing golden lightning that furiously whipped the mountain path at the foot of First Thread Peak. Each whip strike on the ground was accompanied by thunderous vibrations.
The entire Ancestral Mountain of Zheng Yang Mountain was like a landscape bonsai, suddenly blooming a golden flower with distinct veins.
She slashed her blade from afar. No brilliant blade light blossomed; instead, a thin grey line like a thread appeared between heaven and earth.
Liu Xianyang still stood still, unmoving. He brushed his two fingers horizontally and said softly, "Water flows into the void."
Between the ghostly swordsman and Liu Xianyang, a void river appeared out of nowhere. The grey line was pulled into it.
Then blade light surged like a flood, all rolling violently into that "void," and even the golden lightning was absorbed into it.
It seemed that the distance between the two duelists, separated by a river, was as vast as the difference between heaven and earth.
Throughout the three sword duels, from beginning to end, Liu Xianyang had not used any sword techniques learned from Dragon Spring Sword Sect.
Regarding the challenge to Zheng Yang Mountain, he hadn't even informed his master, Ruan Qiong. As long as Ruan Qiong didn't stop him, Liu Xianyang assumed he had agreed.
Liu Xianyang glanced upward. Clouds gathered from all directions, showing an unusual ink-black color. Anyone with eyes could tell this was the female swordsman's doing. Liu Xianyang recognized this sword technique as the signature move of Cloud-Pushing Peak: "Piercing Clouds."
At noon, under the sunlight, eight beams of sword light pierced through the black cloud veil from the sky, their tips pointing directly at Liu Xianyang.
With a slight thought, Liu Xianyang caused eight rivers of sword energy to surge up from the eight directions around First Thread Peak, shooting into the sky. In the distance, several turbulent rivers densely packed with long swords, fierce and dark, bypassed the back mountain of First Thread Peak and pulled into several battle lines, like cavalry units rushing to the battlefields where the golden light met the black clouds. Eventually, in mid-air, the grand sword formation rivers clashed head-on with the descending swords from the clouds controlled by the woman's nascent soul, like iron cavalry charging into each other on a battlefield.
After all, he was a proper Confucian disciple; adapting a few sword poems by sages and literati was something Liu Xianyang could manage.
The ghostly woman didn't even glance at the Piercing Cloud sword formation. Her form suddenly split into seven rainbows, which scattered like arrows and then condensed into eight illusory sword-wielding figures. Their bodies were woven from snow-white light. Each delivered a sword strike, the sword light transforming into divine white colts. These colts, as they charged forward, would suddenly appear and suddenly vanish, their traces unpredictable, all rushing toward Liu Xianyang on First Thread Peak.
This was a trump card sword technique from Fluttering Peak: "Time Flies Like an Arrow, Colts Flutter Past."
The transformation techniques of Qi refiners were generally considered lowly, not even legitimate heterodox methods. The most inferior were those imitating birds and beasts or immortal cranes. If one could manifest a dragon form as large as a mountain or some ferocious ancient species with one or two corresponding innate divine abilities, that was considered superior. Fluttering Peak's transformation technique was quite extraordinary, allowing accomplished cultivators and earthly immortals to roughly imitate the legendary spirit colts that leap through the river of time, carrying a trace of sword intent to kill enemies.
Liu Xianyang condensed a longsword from sword energy and swung it a few times casually, shattering several colts with erratic trajectories in mid-air. One colt, bright as moonlight, suddenly sank, dodging the sword light. Its hooves lightly tapped the ground, and in an instant, it appeared behind Liu Xianyang on the steps of First Thread Peak. Without turning his head, Liu Xianyang stabbed backward. The colt galloping down the steps shattered like porcelain. In the end, four time-colts still crashed into Liu Xianyang's golden sword formation. Snow-white light and golden sunlight exploded together.
The female swordsman had been waiting for this moment. She finally unleashed her natal flying sword. The entire area of Full Moon Peak had its heaven and earth spiritual energy drained instantly, plunging into pitch darkness as if day had suddenly fallen into night, a heavy night.
On First Thread Peak, the formation's green tapestry changed from light green to a deep green hue.
Above Full Moon Peak, a bright full moon appeared and descended into the emerald sea with lightning speed.
The spot where this moon fell to the mortal world was exactly where Liu Xianyang stood.
Liu Xianyang still didn't move, but his expression was somewhat strange.
This sword duel could be considered sufficient. Delaying further was pointless.
The moon continued to descend to the sea without any hindrance. But in an instant, the female ghostly swordsman, who still had a backup sword technique, lost her mind, as if falling into a fog. Numerous life scenes, some in line drawing, some in color, flashed before her eyes like a blur.
This inexplicable anomaly—aside from the two duelists—even a Daoist celestial lord like Qi Zhen of the Divine Proclamation Sect, who had been observing with the divine ability of "viewing mountains and rivers from the palm," and not missing any subtle detail, was completely unaware.
And this secret protector, who was actually half a Jade Perfection nascent soul ghostly cultivator, did not even realize that she was now experiencing her own life scenes in a dream.
This was the terror of Liu Xianyang's natal flying sword.
Striking in dreams, killing at will.
No one could escape deep sleep. Everyone's sleep was a river.
And every time Liu Xianyang fell asleep, it was a journey upstream. The key was that once he saw anyone, he could freely enter that person's life river.
So anyone who fought Liu Xianyang at the same cultivation level was in an extremely dangerous position.
Ning Yao, Feiran, Shouchen, Chen Ping'an—perhaps only these swordsmen with extremely resilient sword hearts could have the strength to fight back at the same level, each relying on their divine abilities, with a slight chance of victory.
Because the only "flaw" in Liu Xianyang's dream sword duel was that when Liu Xianyang entered dreams to meet people, it was a downstream journey for him, but an upstream journey against time for others. That is, for swordsmen like Ning Yao and Feiran, with invincible talent or extremely stable sword hearts—or both—they might, in the very first instant, realize something was wrong. Like a person in a dazed dream who still vaguely knows they're dreaming. If, at that moment, the one being challenged in the dream had an exceptionally clear and bright sword heart, and could use it to break the dream with their sword, they could avoid Liu Xianyang's increasingly fierce strikes later on.
This was why Liu Xianyang had been willing to put off coming to Zheng Yang Mountain to challenge them. Unless he reached the Jade Perfection realm, he wouldn't be invincible.
Otherwise, could Chen Ping'an really have talked him out of it? It was always Liu Xianyang who taught Chen Ping'an how things should be done.
Liu Xianyang on the steps of First Thread Peak didn't slash with his sword to block the descending moon. For the first time, he stepped back, using "Shrinking Land to a Inch" to reach the mountainside. The moon rolled down, following him along the steps, crushing upward. Liu Xianyang had no choice but to reveal his true realm. Suddenly, he manifested a hundred-foot-tall dharma body. He raised his sleeve and used the "Sleeve Universe" technique of a Jade Perfection cultivator to collect the "climbing" moon into his sleeve. His sleeve bulged and swelled; the sound of silk tearing and snapping was incessant. The moon rolled around like a ball inside, crashing everywhere. Liu Xianyang extended a finger to press against his sleeve. Gradually, the moon inside calmed down. Eventually, losing the mental control of the female ghostly cultivator, it was like water without a source; it shattered with a bang inside the sleeve. In the small world of his sleeve, it scattered into countless snowy moonlight, faintly seeping out from the sleeve. Truly, an immortal's "sun and moon in a pot."
Meanwhile, the other "Liu Xianyang" accompanied the female ghostly cultivator, walking along a river of time. The two drifted downstream together, watching all the events of her life.
A female swordsman of Full Moon Peak, with five to six hundred years of cultivation, seemed like a long time, but it all happened in an instant of her mind. And if Liu Xianyang hadn't changed his mind, given that she hadn't noticed she was in a dream, Liu Xianyang could have casually delivered a sword in the dream, at least erasing a hundred years of her cultivation and shattering many of her soul fragments. With her already decaying soul, barely holding together, how many of Liu Xianyang's dream swords could she withstand?
Liu Xianyang sighed, stopped, and softly called out her name. The river of time stagnated. The female ghostly cultivator, who had been leisurely reviewing her life, suddenly "awakened." She looked around and realized she was not a female cultivator who had just entered the Dragon Gate Realm, nor was her newly imagined junior sister beside her. She was not on Full Moon Peak. She tried to activate her natal flying sword, but found that the sword named "Dry Lake," which was as close to her as her own life, was still in her natal acupoint. Yet when she mentally moved it, no matter how she guided it, it was as if a massive mountain had firmly blocked the gate of her Qi mansion; the sword could not come out to kill enemies.
Liu Xianyang looked "outside the sky" and smiled. "There's still a little time. Let me show you the true scenery at the top of the mountain."
The reason he made an exception was because this female ghostly cultivator might be a future "Liu Yu" of Zheng Yang Mountain.
The next moment, she felt the surroundings change. Her heart tightened, and she couldn't breathe.
In an instant, this ghostly cultivator, who at least had a nascent soul-level sword heart, had her Dao heart collapse on the spot.
On the vast, endless battlefield, countless golden-bodied gods were high in the sky, and countless demons were on the ground. The sky and earth were filled with constant slaughter. Corpses littered the ground, stretching like mountain ranges.
And where she and Liu Xianyang stood was on the tip of a dharma blade held by a great demon. The demon, thousands of feet tall, stepped on a mountain, extended its arm, and raised the blade. Its crimson eyes gleamed with fervor. It looked up to the sky, fighting spirit surging.
Liu Xianyang asked calmly, "Si Tu Wenying, because you don't seem like a typical Zheng Yang Mountain swordsman, I brought you here. Do you have anything else you want to say?"
As far as their eyes could see, the battle was brutal.
But Liu Xianyang was used to it. However, the ghostly swordsman named Si Tu Wenying was shocked, dizzy from the sight alone, her Dao heart shaken.
A golden-eyed god in colorful armor stood on the earth, spread his hand, and drew down a brilliant river of stars from beyond the sky. He grasped it as a whip, raised it high, and lashed the ground. The earth shattered, crisscrossed with ravines.
A massive goddess, as she descended on the wind, had dense clouds above. Tens of thousands of golden lightning bolts instantly fell to the ground, as if connecting heaven and earth.
A demon grabbed a god's "tiny" body with one hand, tore it apart, carelessly discarded half, and put the other half into its mouth, chewing loudly. Yet it was pierced through the chest by a golden halberd falling from the sky at an angle. It grinned fiercely, leaned forward, tore open its own body, then grabbed the halberd, stomped heavily, and threw it back to a golden-bodied god in the sky. Before the god could catch it, dozens of gods lower down were pierced through. The halberd's original owner, the god, caught it, not even glancing at the pile of godly corpses hanging on the halberd. He just lightly shook his wrist and scattered the "skewer of candied fruit" from his weapon...
She trembled, "Is this your natal flying sword?"
Liu Xianyang curled his lip. "Otherwise? Did a Jade Perfection cultivator fall from the sky and just happen to land in my hands?"
She was speechless, silent for a long time. Finally, knowing she was going to die, she actually laughed instead. "This kind of ending is an unexpected joy."
Liu Xianyang crouched down and said, "Now I understand what those words meant."
Yesterday at the Passing Cloud Tower, lying on a rattan chair with his friend, drinking and chatting idle talk. Since they had nothing to do, the two best friends rambled about everything.
Finally, slightly tipsy, Chen Ping'an smiled and looked up at the sky, saying some heartfelt words.
He said interesting things and meaningful things are both not easy to achieve.
An interesting difficult thing, even if accomplished, may not necessarily be meaningful. But a meaningful thing, once done, is bound to be very interesting.
---
On Full Moon Peak, several groups of observing immortals could even clearly feel the lingering tremors of the earth from First Thread Peak.
As for Cloud-Pushing Peak and Water Dragon Peak, where two groups of mountain gods and water gods from various prefectures were gathered, they had a keener perception of mountain roots and water veins. Compared to ordinary cultivators, it was harder for them to determine the consequences of a sword duel, which could permanently alter the landscape.
Jiang Yun, a concubine-born descendant of the Cloud Forest Jiang clan's collateral branch, and Fu Nanhua of Old Dragon City, were both outsiders who had once sought opportunities in Li Zhu Cave Heaven. They had also met on the Grand River battlefield, so they were half-acquaintances. Now they stood side by side, watching the magnificent scroll of the sword duel ahead. Fu Nanhua asked softly, "Both are Nascent Soul sword immortals?"
Jiang Yun nodded. "No doubt about it."
Maybe Liu Xianyang was even more.
But Jiang Yun's interest wasn't in the duel itself. It was in Zheng Yang Mountain's Ancestral Mountain formation, which was like a military-grade armor pill at the level of at least half an immortal artifact. It managed to protect First Thread Peak from being ravaged by scattered sword light and magical bombardment during the duel. Otherwise, after the battle, when the guests from various peaks climbed to observe, the ground would be full of potholes, especially the immortal residences below the mountainside, with broken walls everywhere. That would have been fun.
Who knew that the most boring mountain observation could become so interesting?
Indeed, don't provoke anyone from Li Zhu Cave Heaven's "younger generation."
Not to mention Song Jixin of Mud Vase Alley, now a Great Li vassal king; Ma Kuxuan from Apricot Flower Alley; Xie Ling from Peach Leaf Alley, who during a solo journey some years ago, slew demons with endless magical techniques and decisive action; and the two pure martial artists from Yang's Medicine Shop, who caused a commotion at an ancient battlefield ruin. As for Zhao Yao from Fortune Street, after returning to his hometown to serve as a Great Li official, he handled mountain disputes with ruthless efficiency. And now, today, there was Liu Xianyang.
Fu Nanhua's plump wife sat with Wei Liang in a viewing pavilion. Jiang Sheng asked, "When will Liu Xianyang fight all the way to the Sword Summit?"
Wei Liang thought to himself, "Little ginger, don't be impatient. Haste makes waste. Wait patiently."
That Liu Xianyang was clearly holding back a lot.
Jiang Sheng's eyes lit up. "Is there hot tofu to eat?"
Wei Liang nodded. "Maybe it'll even be scalding hot, so hot that even holding the bowl will burn your hands."
Jiang Sheng shook his head. "Impossible. Even if that Liu is a Jade Perfection sword immortal, if he can make it to the Sword Summit, that's already a stroke of luck."
Regarding Zheng Yang Mountain's foundation, the Cloud Forest Jiang clan naturally knew it well. And since she was the most favored darling of the Jiang clan's old ancestor, and because of the grievance of being forced to marry into Old Dragon City back then, the old patriarch felt guilty. Every time she returned home to visit, the busy old clan head would take time to personally accompany Jiang Sheng on outings.
Wei Liang chuckled. "Mountain immortals in the world only come in two types: those with solid foundations and those as scattered as sand. Even for clan-level mountain strongholds, when they reach a certain critical point, their hearts suddenly scatter. The former include Yu Gui Sect and Tai Ping Mountain on Tongye Prefecture, and Wind Snow Temple and Zhen Wu Mountain on Vase Prefecture. As for the latter, there are many, but some hide shallowly, some hide deeply. Zheng Yang Mountain belongs to the latter of the latter.
"If only Liu Xianyang were here alone today, he would never reach that critical point. As little ginger said, he would stop at First Thread Peak's Sword Summit, at most cause a big ruckus, and either be detained by Zheng Yang Mountain or be taken down the mountain by someone from Dragon Spring Sword Sect, becoming a topic of gossip for Vase Prefecture's mountain folk."
Wei Liang paused, looking at the young swordsman standing on the steps of First Thread Peak. "Of course, Liu Xianyang is already very impressive. Before the age of fifty, only two people have managed to become Jade Perfection sword immortals."
Jiang Sheng was shocked. Liu Xianyang was a Jade Perfection sword immortal? But even more shocking was Wei Liang's mention of "only two before." She couldn't help asking, "Two? Isn't it only Wei Jin of Wind Snow Temple?"
Wei Liang laughed heartily. "Looks like your Jiang clan's old ancestor still doesn't dote on little ginger enough."
Jiang Sheng was curious. "Who? Where are they now? Such a young sword immortal, how come there's no fame at all?"
Wei Liang kept the suspense. "Far away, near at hand. Right now, he's in one of the peaks. This guy is like... carrying a big bowl of scalding tofu, visiting as a guest. The host has to eat it whether he wants to or not. If he's not careful, it won't just be his mouth that gets burned; his insides might get burned too."
Jiang Sheng realized. "I was wondering earlier why Uncle Wei was willing to take time out of his busy schedule to come to Zheng Yang Mountain and waste time here."
Wei Liang nodded, squinting in admiration. "I had to come. Because I need to learn from a young man how to dismantle things and make the best use of them."
This Fa-family cultivator, who had served as the Grand Governor of the Qing Luan Nation for generations—"grandfather, son, grandson, all the same person"—was silent for a moment, then laughed self-deprecatingly. "Really infuriating. That kid was such a simple person back then. But now, he's got me holding my nose and humbly asking him for advice on this subject."
At the Sword-Halting Pavilion on First Thread Peak, Sect Leader Zhu Huang looked at the female ghostly cultivator who had rendered great service to the mountain sect. His eyes were full of pity and guilt. Pity that she was a woman with a pitiful fate, reduced to this; guilt that as the sect leader and a Jade Perfection cultivator, he still needed her to leave Little Lone Mountain to receive Liu Xianyang's sword today.
Xia Yuancui's expression was complicated. There was an old, long-sealed internal sect matter involved. Even old-timers like Tao Yanbo and Yan Chu, who held high positions in Zheng Yang Mountain, only had private speculations and never spoke of it lightly. They only knew that this woman, a Nascent Soul female ghostly cultivator, had taken the place of the "Oil-Smith" in anonymity.
The white-clothed old ape frowned when he saw her. He said to several old sword immortals telepathically, "That cheap life of hers isn't just her own. It's tied to the Ancestral Mountain's formation. If her soul is scattered, it will fundamentally damage the formation's core. Leave aside the loss of immortal money, why is the Sect Leader wasting the mountain's fortune like this? Who will make up for it afterward?"
Xia Yuancui, usually deep and scheming, showed an unusual anger. "Elder Yuan, those words are a bit hurtful."
This secret protector, who according to the registry had long passed away, was a female Nascent Soul swordsman secretly serving as Zheng Yang Mountain's "Oil-Smith."
The implied meaning of the oil she added was for the ancestor-worship lamp in First Thread Peak's ancestral hall, to keep the mountain's incense burning.
She came from Full Moon Peak and was once one of Xia Yuancui's most proud direct disciples. She and the woman who had been killed by Li Tuanjing, with her corpse exposed in the square of Wind Thunder Garden, were senior and junior sisters.
Both had once had the chance to succeed their master Xia Yuancui, who wanted to focus on sword practice, as peak masters and handle mundane affairs, and even had hopes of becoming mountain lords. It was worth noting that among the peaks of Zheng Yang Mountain back then, the current Sect Leader Zhu Huang, though highly talented in sword practice, was never the best.
But their paths were rough. One died, her Dao extinguished; the other held resentment, chose to walk a dead-end road, and became this inhuman, ghostly form.
Because they—or rather, the entire Zheng Yang Mountain—had encountered that fated nemesis, the swordsman of Wind Thunder Garden, Li Tuanjing.
Zhu Huang advised, "Uncle Xia, Elder Yuan's words are always about the matter, not the person."
The Oil-Smith had always been a role that could be held by male or female, but had to be a swordsman. Taking on this duty was equivalent to being half-dead, because not only would one be removed from the ancestral hall's registry and erased, with some excuse like failed seclusion or death in battle, but every time one appeared to deliver a sword, it was extremely dangerous, always a life-staking move.
Before Xia Yuancui and Zhu Huang respectively reached Jade Perfection, after she became a ghost, she was actually the most lethal swordsman on Zheng Yang Mountain. Her existence was to counter the possibility of Li Tuanjing's challenge to Zheng Yang Mountain, preventing him from climbing the mountain as if no one were there. Zheng Yang Mountain certainly didn't dare to hope she could kill Li Tuanjing; it was more like the duel between Yuan Bai and the Yellow River. Such measures were desperate, last-resort actions taken by a weak mountain sect for self-preservation.
The white-clothed old ape sneered coldly.
Of course he knew what Xia Yuancui and Zhu Huang were planning. The two had long found the ghostly woman an eyesore. In the past, Zheng Yang Mountain couldn't do without her; she was needed to guard against Li Tuanjing, who was unmatched in his lifetime, to prevent him from dismantling the entire ancestral hall and breaking their sword path. But now, she had become a stain on old almanacs. It was best to have outsiders wipe it away, because now Zheng Yang Mountain no longer lacked this half-Jade Perfection sword immortal.
Xia Yuancui planned to use this merit to discard an unsavory direct disciple in exchange for a batch of sword immortal seedlings in future ancestral hall discussions. As for Sect Leader Zhu Huang, despite his earlier expression of regret and guilt, the one who most wanted her dead was actually him—from Nascent Soul to Jade Perfection, from mountain lord to sect leader.
But the white-clothed old ape knew this and saw nothing wrong. If Zhu Huang weren't so ruthless, how could he be the sect leader? If Xia Yuancui didn't scheme like this, how could Full Moon Peak grow and occupy the most seats in the sect's ancestral hall?
The female ghostly cultivator's natal flying sword was named "Dry Lake," of extremely high rank.
Once unleashed, it created a zone of impossibility tens of miles in radius.
The sword's ability to drain heaven and earth's spiritual energy dry was only one of its powers. Combined with her unique sword techniques, she fought enemies with a "jade and stone perish together" approach. Additionally, using her sword, she borrowed from the future, essentially a Nascent Soul swordsman who, without worrying about lifespan, still turned into a ghost, abandoning her Yang God's external body and entire physical shell, to borrow half a Jade Perfection realm.
Moreover, her soul was already fused with Zheng Yang Mountain's grand protective formation, so she couldn't leave the mountain for long, or her soul would decay rapidly. Unlike the "Forest Plantation Elder" of Back-Sword Peak, who could wander leisurely down the mountain and only needed to act quickly to weed out enemies, she couldn't. Every secret trip down the mountain was for assassination.
The "Oil-Smith," who sustained the ancestral hall's incense, and the "Forest Plantation Elder," who uprooted obstacles for Zheng Yang Mountain's sword forest—these two aptly named secret protectors—one a Nascent Soul sword immortal, the other a ninth-tier grandmaster of martial arts—had clearly defined roles. Occasionally, they descended the mountain together to kill, cooperating seamlessly, leaving no trace.
Zhu Huang suddenly said telepathically, "There have been enough surprises today. There absolutely cannot be any more. So for the next sword, Uncle Xia, Brother Tao, Master Disciplinary Yan, I'll trouble you."
Zhu Huang added another sentence, "I'll notify the Great Lone Mountain side, so it will also include Wu Tijing's natal flying sword."
Xia Yuancui nodded. The other two, the Treasurer and the Disciplinary Patriarch, hesitated but agreed. As long as it was done with no one knowing, Liu Xianyang would die without understanding how. Among the observers on the peaks, everyone would just think Liu Xianyang was slain by the female ghostly cultivator, unaware of the subtlety.
Among the swordsmen, Zhu Huang, Xia Yuancui, Tao Yanbo, and Yan Chu made two Jade Perfection and two Nascent Soul.
Plus the ghost cultivator, who could usually count as half a Jade Perfection, and when staking her life, could be considered a fully lethal Jade Perfection sword immortal.
Moreover, besides swordsmen, Zheng Yang Mountain had the mountain-protecting elder Yuan Zhenye, already Jade Perfection. And on Back-Sword Peak, there was the hidden protector "Forest Plantation Elder," an old ghost kept alive by secret techniques, a ninth-tier martial grandmaster.
Thus, if all peaks activated their protective formations along with the Ancestral Mountain, plus the Sword Summit, killing a celestial immortal, or even a celestial immortal sword immortal, would not be a problem—more than enough.
But such great sword immortals, even counting the two neighboring prefectures in the north and south, could be counted on one hand: Bai Chang, Wei Jin, Jiang Shangzhen, Wei Ying. Who else?
Moreover, celestial immortal sword immortals or flying ascension grand cultivators, who dared to act recklessly in Vase Prefecture now? Did they think the imitation White Jade Capital above the central Grand River was a dead object?
Thus, timing, location, and human factors were all in Zheng Yang Mountain's favor.
On the cliff of Great Lone Mountain on Lovers' Peak, a black-clad youth with a sword on his back glanced at Little Lone Mountain nearby. There was a lonely woman there.
His eyes were cold. He withdrew his gaze. Nearby, a withered branch extended beyond the cliff. He walked onto it, stepped and broke it, then leaped nimbly into the air. The sword on his back clanged out of its sheath.
Wu Tijing rode his sword. This young swordsman, considered the most talented in sword practice in Zheng Yang Mountain in a thousand years, had no pendant sword at his waist, only the section from the guard to the hilt.
As if he once had a longsword but lost the blade.
As he floated on his sword, Wu Tijing breathed slowly, his sleeves rustling.
Swordsmen of our kind practice the pure art of hand-to-hand combat. Inside, we solidify spirit; body like ape and bird; we entrust Qi to the spirit. Sword energy overflows like rivers flooding; sword intent is bright as lotus emerging from water; the sword path is vast and lofty like stars revolving.
Liu Xianyang's duel with the female ghostly cultivator was grand, full of strange phenomena. Everywhere was residual, chaotic ripples of sword energy, and it led the Ancestral Mountain's formation by the nose. So earlier, Chen Ping'an had left Back-Sword Peak, concealed his form, followed a sword path with slight caution, and successfully climbed the Sword Summit with the ancient sword he had found.
When the women on the summit asked who he was, Chen Ping'an smiled and said he was a guest. Then, outside the threshold of First Thread Peak's ancestral hall, he suddenly stopped, turned to look at the female cultivators of the Flower and Wood Workshop, one by one, and then seemed to talk to himself: "Since I've seen through it, can you tell Liu Cai to postpone his sword duel with me? Through Snow Peak's Liu Cai, or rather the wandering Lu Tai? There will be plenty of opportunities later. Zouzi, you calculate all heavenly matters, why rush? For example, wait until I go to the Five Colors World, or after I travel to the Azure Underworld?"
At Snow Peak, Liu Cai's maidservant, Liucai, had eyes that shone brightly. Then she quickly lowered her head, seeming to hesitate for the first time.
Even Yuan Bai didn't notice her subtle movement.
A female cultivator from Qiongzhi Peak in the square glanced at the azure-robed sword immortal. The corner of her mouth curled up slightly, and then she nodded lightly, as if agreeing to the matter. The next moment, the cultivator returned to a normal expression.
This Flower and Wood Workshop female cultivator was completely unaware of it herself.
And beside Yuan Bai, the maidservant Liucai from the Heavenly Well Blessed Land of the Snowy Prefecture, vanished without warning, leaving Snow Peak without even a word to Yuan Bai.
Over at the Great Li auxiliary capital, a sword light flashed from the imitation White Jade Capital, but quickly retracted.
As if a Jade Perfection sword immortal's yin spirit traveling far wasn't worth drawing a sword.
Before coming to Zheng Yang Mountain, Chen Ping'an had gone to the central Grand River. It wasn't relying on any identity that allowed him to board the imitation White Jade Capital, but by using the names of two cultivators from other prefectures.
Then Chen Ping'an only saw a person without contour, with a vague form and blurred face.
At that time, Chen Ping'an got straight to the point: "I'll find Bai Chang or Zouzi. You, according to the rules, are responsible for drawing the sword. But I can't guarantee I'll find them."
Because, according to a Great Li rule applicable only to the peak level, any celestial immortal sword immortal or flying ascension grand cultivator from another prefecture who set foot on Vase Prefecture without proactively submitting a travel pass to the Great Li court would be challenged upon discovery.
But that pass only needed to be sent to the imitation White Jade Capital, no need to notify the Great Li capital or auxiliary capital. This was another strange thing.
That unnamed person of no realm smiled and nodded. "Within the rules, it's only proper."
"Tian Wan" of Cornus Peak on Zheng Yang Mountain had once sent a flying sword message to her master: "Bai Chang one, Zouzi nine."
In short, Cui Dongshan was completely certain that at least one of them was hiding in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity.
And in fact, Chen Ping'an was already on his way to the imitation White Jade Capital at that time.
Now, standing on this Sword Summit with a broad view, Chen Ping'an turned his head and glanced at the direction of the sword light from Snow Peak, not taking back his gaze for a long time.
If he had only read intelligence reports about Zheng Yang Mountain, he would never have had many conjectures about Yuan Bai's maid named "Liucai."
But once it involved Tian Wan of Cornus Peak, and especially the "what if" that Chen Ping'an had always been wary of, he absolutely could not take it lightly.
Until this moment, when the "Zouzi" whose true body was not in Vase Prefecture departed, Chen Ping'an could finally breathe a sigh of relief. He inexplicably thought of two Buddhist sayings: "Bandits suffer a great defeat, and the thief shoots after the bow has been drawn."
Alright. This challenge to Zheng Yang Mountain finally had no more worries.
As for Bai Chang, as long as he dared to come to Vase Prefecture and insidiously strike, he wouldn't leave; he could be a guest at Fallen Mountain.
But I believe, given Bai Chang's temperament, even if he secretly crossed prefectures to travel far, he had already sensed the movement at the imitation White Jade Capital and would surely only quietly return home. However, more likely, this ambitious northern sword immortal would only choose to stand by with folded arms and watch the show from afar.
A female officer from the Flower and Wood Workshop hurried forward, bravely raised her hand to block the door, and cautiously dissuaded him: "This sword immortal, the Sword Summit ancestral hall is our top forbidden area! You cannot enter! Forcing your way in will cause immense trouble."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "There won't be any trouble. I'm an old friend of your Relocating Mountain Patriarch. Much of my achievement today is thanks to him. If you're worried, you can send a flying sword message to Zhu Huang. I have something I need to discuss with him properly. The Sword-Halting Pavilion is too crowded and noisy for business. So, miss, I'll trouble you to send the message. I'll go pick out a chair first. Oh, and my name is Chen Ping'an, from Fallen Mountain. And remind your sect leader that it's best he comes to the Sword Summit alone."
As the female officer hesitated, the azure-robed, sword-carrying man flickered and was already across the threshold, walking into the ancestral hall. Her arm hung in the air. She withdrew it, flushed with anxiety, almost in tears. Having made such a blunder under her own nose, when she returned to Qiongzhi Peak, wouldn't the patriarch scold her to death? She stamped her foot, turned around, and quickly sent a flying sword secret message to Sect Leader Zhu Huang, saying a guest who didn't understand the rules, calling himself Chen Ping'an from Fallen Mountain, had barged into the ancestral hall and seemed to be choosing a chair for himself. He even arrogantly said the sect leader had better come to the hall alone for a talk...
Chen Ping'an, one hand behind his back, the other holding a sword, was indeed choosing a chair. He walked all the way to the main seat belonging to Sect Leader Zhu Huang. Because today was the celebration of the Relocating Mountain Saint, First Thread Peak had specially placed the mountain-protecting elder's already very prominent chair beside Zhu Huang's as the head seat.
So Chen Ping'an sat on this chair, looking toward the door. He held his longsword upright, gently raising and lowering it, quietly waiting for Zhu Huang to appear and receive the guest.
The Flower and Wood Workshop female officer, not daring to break the ancestral hall's rules and step inside, stood at the door. When she saw the scene inside, her face turned deathly pale. What was this seemingly friendly uninvited guest doing? Did he not want to live?
Chen Ping'an looked at the two rows of seats one by one, knowing whose each was: Xia Yuancui of Full Moon Peak, Tao the Treasurer of Autumn Order Peak, Disciplinary Patriarch Yan, the old sword immortal of Cloud-Pushing Peak who had once drawn his sword alongside Li Cai, the female sword immortal of Fluttering Peak, Cold Qi of Qiongzhi Peak's patriarch, Tian Wan of Cornus Peak, Wu Tijing as Li Tuanjing's reincarnation, Yu Lin of Rain-Foot Peak, whom Master Ruan looked down upon, Yuan Bai of Snow Peak who had "Swordsman Liu Cai" hidden beside him...
Indeed, a place with so many sword immortals.
If it were just a single Zheng Yang Mountain, it wouldn't be much.
But add the Great Li court, Tian Wan—where there is Tian Wan, there is the ambitious Bai Chang; where there is Zouzi, there is Liu Cai.
For example, just with this Liu Cai, at the moment when Chen Ping'an seemed most triumphant, a completely unknown Zheng Yang Mountain disciple would unexpectedly appear, blocking the way.
Choosing to exchange swordsman for swordsman, the final outcome would make the last Hidden Official of the Sword Qi Great Wall no longer a swordsman.
For the complex situation of several worlds, this might be a very interesting scenario, an extremely unexpected variable.
But for the young mountain lord of Fallen Mountain, it was an unthinkably bleak ending.
And in this matter, Zouzi seemed to have greeted Chen Ping'an early, through the list of the world's ten young talents, and deliberately or unintentionally leaked Liu Cai's two natal flying swords.
Perhaps this list was even Zouzi's behind-the-scenes work.
One day, a swordsman challenges a swordsman, fair and square, a duel.
And he had warned you, the young Hidden Official, in advance, letting you, Chen Ping'an, prepare for years to face this duel where the opponent's name and natal flying swords were all clearly told to you.
Chen Ping'an took a deep breath. The immediate crisis was temporarily resolved. But this duel, which would only be decided by Zouzi in terms of time and place, was unavoidable and inescapable.
In fact, no matter how hard Chen Ping'an racked his brain to think about why, he could never understand why Zouzi was so targeted at him.
No matter.
On the road of life, even if you don't know many "whys," you still do what you have to do.
He's here.
Zhu Huang, Sect Leader of Zheng Yang Mountain.
Indeed, only by himself.
Chen Ping'an smiled and did not stand up.
Zhu Huang used sword energy to isolate a small world. Standing at the door, he immediately noticed the ancient sword from Back-Sword Peak in the other's hand. This mountain lord and Jade Perfection sword immortal squinted and asked the young mountain lord in a deep voice, "Chen Ping'an, what do you want?"
The man was still tapping the ground lightly with the bottom of his scabbard. He smiled and said, "To beg a cup of tea, and then talk business?"
Zhu Huang grasped a hereditary white jade talisman in his sleeve and sneered, "Oh? Are you qualified?"
The next moment, all the sword energy on the Sword Summit of First Thread Peak instantly gathered, condensing into a tall, cloud-shrouded form standing beside Sect Leader Zhu Huang.
The azure-robed figure remained unperturbed, smiling helplessly. "Before we even talk, it's already broken down?"
Zhu Huang saw the man open his hand. In it was the sword of Zheng Yang Mountain's founding patriarch, placed upright on the ground. Then the guy raised his hand, shook his sleeve, and a head rolled out from it. He then kicked it with the tip of his foot, sending the head of the Forest Plantation Elder toward the doorway, hitting the threshold. "Zhu Huang, don't you wonder why, on your own turf, I killed a ninth-tier martial grandmaster, yet I still came to First Thread Peak to notify you personally about it?"
Zhu Huang's expression shifted between overcast and clear.
The celestial immortal beside him could draw his sword at any moment against that young man.
Chen Ping'an extended a palm toward Zhu Huang's chair, grinning. "Since you're already here, where can I run to? Why not sit down and talk?"
Zhu Huang did not move. He only asked, "Is Liu Xianyang already in the Jade Perfection realm?"
Chen Ping'an was too lazy to discuss this. Couldn't you figure it out yourself? He casually shattered the head at the door, then prepared to stand up. "I gave you a chance to talk nicely, but you refused to talk nicely, huh? Then later, including Liu Xianyang and me, all the distinguished guests who came to observe the ceremony at First Thread Peak can just sunbathe together on the ruins of the ancestral hall."
Zhu Huang laughed. He stepped across the threshold. The celestial immortal behind him remained outside the hall. As he walked, he said, "Mountain Lord Chen, remember to speak carefully. If the conversation goes wrong, even if you're related, many people will die."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "I'm already half dead from your fright."
Zhu Huang had only taken half a step when he instantly summoned a natal flying sword, and together with the celestial immortal at the door behind him, each drew their swords to forcibly break through a bizarre sword formation.
But the next moment, it seemed that Chen Ping'an only displayed a sword technique and did nothing more.
However, at the Sword Summit of First Thread Peak, where no more sword energy clashed, a beautiful landscape like a painting appeared.
It was like a mountain where flowers bloomed in sequence, and then hundreds of messenger flying swords, dragging trails of sword-light fireflies, scattered in all directions. The sword lights sped like wind and lightning to various peaks, finally hovering beside each observing guest.
At the same time, Chen Ping'an had already gripped both ends of the ancient sword from Back-Sword Peak with both hands. He smiled and said, "Don't be in a hurry to fight. This is the most important heirloom of your Zheng Yang Mountain's two thousand six hundred years of founding. If I accidentally twist it in half, who will blame whom then?"
Zhu Huang did not put away his natal flying sword. But the young mountain lord, who seemed to have a mental problem in his speech and actions, did something else incomprehensible: he directly threw the longsword back to Zhu Huang, then extended his hand again with a smile. "Sit."
Zhu Huang didn't even catch the mountain-guarding heirloom of the patriarch. He let the celestial immortal at the door handle it.
When he sat down, his mood was extremely strange. In his own ancestral hall, who was the host and who was the guest?
Then the guy's first words made Zhu Huang feel as if he had heard a huge joke.
"Zhu Huang, how about you first remove Yuan Zhenye from your mountain's register? Then I'll work hard and personally clean up your family's mess for you. What do you think, is that feasible?"
Zhu Huang was furious inside, so much so that he stood up abruptly and gritted his teeth. "Chen Ping'an! What do you think?!"
The man sat calmly, smiled, and nodded. "I think it's feasible."
---
On the steps of First Thread Peak, Liu Xianyang had just put a moon into his sleeve. He shook his sleeve, feeling he had gained a full load. It was a good trip. He could give it to Miss Yu later. Every little bit counts.
And in that mysterious ancient battlefield, the female ghostly cultivator asked, "You're in the open. There's also Chen Ping'an of Fallen Mountain, hiding in the shadows, right?"
Liu Xianyang smiled and said nothing. I'm not close enough to you to speak from the heart.
Suddenly, her face twisted, filled with a ferocious expression, but with eyes full of anger at her own incompetence. She raged, "What is the meaning of such a sloppy duel?!"
Liu Xianyang was a bit stunned by her question.
It was like a heinous criminal, just before death, suddenly asking the chivalrous hero, "Is beating me to death enough?"
Even if it's not enough, I can't kill you twice.
Si Tu Wenying seemed to have gone mad, talking nonsense: "Besides me, who else can you kill in this duel? Among Zhu Huang, Xia Yuancui, Tao Yanbo, Yan Chu—these old bastards—how many will have their Dao foundations broken in the end? Will Zheng Yang Mountain really be injured to the bone? Don't you know that the most skilled thing these old immortals of Zheng Yang Mountain do is endure and not strike back, year after year, outlasting Li Tuanjing of Wind Thunder Garden, and forging a clan-level sect? Now they're even about to have a subsidiary sect!"
But soon she deflated.
In fact, these two young swordsmen hadn't even reached fifty years old. Challenging Zheng Yang Mountain like this was already a remarkable feat.
Though regrettable, it was deeply satisfying.
When the upper beam is crooked, the lower beam will be crooked too. Patriarchs, transmitters, direct disciples, grand-disciples—Zheng Yang Mountain would forever be Zheng Yang Mountain.
Plausibly dignified. Outsiders who knew the inside story just knew. At most, they would say a few nasty words about Zheng Yang Mountain, like Patriarch Qin of Wind Snow Temple's Giant Salamander Ditch.
What a pity there was no longer a Li Tuanjing in this world.
This Zheng Yang Mountain, with a swordsman's heart as pure as snow but harboring even more filth, had been ruled for two thousand six hundred years by schemes and conspiracies that always occupied the main seat, as if these "sword techniques" were the true but invisible first chair of the ancestral hall.
Moreover, peaks like Cloud-Pushing Peak and Fluttering Peak, which had upright traditions, had always withdrawn early from each ancestral hall discussion. As Zheng Yang Mountain flourished, they were destined to become increasingly puppet-like. Each time these truly pure swordsmen drew their swords with a clear conscience, it concealed the extremely utilitarian calculations of the ancestral hall. Every life-forgetting sword strike outside the mountain, seemingly passionate and self-sacrificing, was essentially a trade and calculation inside the ancestral hall. In the end, those who gained the most were the swordsmen who didn't need to draw their swords.
All the boys and girls who had once ascended the mountain full of vitality might eventually become the next Tao Yanbo, Yan Chu, Leng Qi, Ni Yuerong.
Liu Xianyang looked embarrassed.
Mainly, this senior female cultivator seemed more like a mortal enemy of Zheng Yang Mountain than he, an outsider seeking revenge. He wasn't used to it.
Si Tu Wenying's form began to dissipate. Her soul wavered, turning into wisps of green smoke. But she seemed unaware or completely indifferent, only saying, "Even if you really dismantle First Thread Peak's ancestral hall today, you still haven't succeeded. You might even backfire. Back then, Li Tuanjing single-handedly suppressed Zheng Yang Mountain for over three hundred years. But conversely, it was precisely Li Tuanjing, like the best whetstone, that forged today's Zheng Yang Mountain sect foundation, making the swordsmen of all peaks unite in common hatred. You don't know this, so you only appear to deliver fierce sword strikes, with the demeanor of sword immortals, yet you're very much not sword immortals."
Si Tu Wenying gave a bleak smile. "Because your challenge will only have the same result as Li Tuanjing's. Have you and Chen Ping'an ever thought about this problem?"
Liu Xianyang honestly shook his head. "I never think about these things. After all, my only enemy is that old beast who almost killed me with a punch. This time I climbed the mountain to chop him down. As for the atmosphere among Zheng Yang Mountain's peaks, I can't be bothered. If the upper beam is crooked, the lower beam is crooked, stealing chickens and molesting dogs, whoring and thieving—that's your own family's business. I'm not your ancestor, so I don't need to worry about your family's or sect's traditions."
But Liu Xianyang had one thing he didn't say.
But don't worry. Someone will definitely think about it. That guy has even kindly offered to recompile your ancestral genealogy.
She was dead silent, then burst into loud laughter: "Of the people who deserve to die on Zheng Yang Mountain, I am certainly one of them. But not having heard more sounds of broken longswords, I am truly unwilling!"
The most painful thing in Si Tu Wenying's life was not that Li Tuanjing liked her senior sister and not her, who had met him earlier. It was that Zhu Huang, with sinister intentions, had privately told her, who had just entered the Nascent Soul realm, that Li Tuanjing had actually liked you first, but your senior sister was the peak master candidate in Uncle Xia's mind, and possibly would enter the ancestral hall in the future. Li Tuanjing had only changed his mind after weighing the pros and cons.
Later, when Si Tu Wenying realized something was wrong and became a ghost, she found Zhu Huang, who had successfully become the mountain lord. He smiled and said to her, "You are infatuated with Li Tuanjing, but you don't even know what kind of person he is. How are you worthy of Li Tuanjing's affection? And you still have the face to come and accuse me?"
Si Tu Wenying smiled.
It seemed that her whole life had always been like this—unsatisfying. The people and things she cherished had nothing to do with beauty.
Suddenly it was spring, then summer, then autumn, then winter.
And then there would be no spring blossoms the next year.
Once, as a young girl, her heart stirred, afraid that her beloved would say, "Your face is not as good as the flower's."
At this moment, tears streamed down her face. But she was finally free of all attachments, and so she had some trivial, unassembled happiness, but at least it was a long-lost lightness.
Liu Xianyang wanted to ask her if she would rather go somewhere else to practice the sword. Where can't one practice the sword? A tree moves and dies, a person moves and lives.
But then he thought again and swallowed those words. She hadn't been wrong earlier: she was a woman who deserved to die. Moreover, she was a woman who wanted to die.
Looking back, when she left her peak this time, Si Tu Wenying had hoped from the start that she would die.
Sure enough, Si Tu Wenying said, "I'm very glad you're a Jade Perfection sword immortal. Otherwise, if you had been killed by me, one more innocent person would have died in this world, and I would have to return to Little Lone Mountain to continue being the Oil-Smith."
The other Liu Xianyang sensed the anomaly at the Sword Summit and laughed. So this Liu Xianyang suddenly said to the ghostly cultivator, "Si Tu Wenying, do you believe that my friend can split your Zheng Yang Mountain in two? One day, the clear and the muddy will be separated! Swordsmen will be pure swordsmen, and bastards will be bastards stuck together! And those bastards' days will only get harder and harder!"
Si Tu Wenying shook her head. "I want to believe, but I dare not. I won't take another look at this outside world. I'll just assume you've done it."
She turned around, cupped her fists at Liu Xianyang, and smiled. The last words of her life seemed still to be what a pure swordsman of Zheng Yang Mountain should say.
"Liu Xianyang, help me pass a message to your friend. I hope that you two young sword immortals will always be willing to respect the pure swordsmen of Cloud-Pushing Peak, Fluttering Peak, and others. And by the way, fuck those old bastards who are always the last to leave the ancestral hall!"
Liu Xianyang cupped his fists. It sounded like a joke, but not entirely. "I'll tell Chen Ping'an. That kid always listens to me. This guy, since childhood, has been a silent, cunning one. Your Zheng Yang Mountain's old foxes just live long, but they're no match for his cunning."
Damn, it's a good thing I didn't drag Chen Ping'an to come, one drawing the sword, one throwing punches, from the foot of the mountain to the top. We could definitely beat that old beast to death. But I probably wouldn't have had the chance to brag to Si Tu Wenying.
Si Tu Wenying didn't speak anymore. She quietly looked into the young swordsman's eyes.
Such clear eyes were truly rare on Zheng Yang Mountain.
On the steps of First Thread Peak, Liu Xianyang suddenly sat down on the ground.
And Si Tu Wenying, hovering in the air, gradually dissipated into smoke.
She left behind all the sword fortune she carried, her own spiritual energy, all her magic treasures, and many natal objects. She returned them all to Zheng Yang Mountain without taking anything.
To outsiders, it was a grand sword duel. A female sword immortal with some of the bearing of a Jade Perfection realm had even been slightly on the upper hand, with impressive sword techniques and Dao methods. And then, inexplicably, she was dead?
Liu Xianyang stood up and continued climbing. As he ascended step by step, he shouted, "Is there a Jade Perfection bastard who has been waiting to die and hasn't died yet? Come and have a proper duel with me! I beg you bastards!"
At the high-rise corridor on Snow Peak, the Zhongyue Mountain Lord Jin Qing was greatly surprised. The young woman beside him had inexplicably turned into a sword light and traveled far. The speed was unbelievable. He had to ask Yuan Bai, "What's going on? If I'm not mistaken, this maid of yours is at least a Jade Perfection realm, and a sword immortal? You didn't even know?"
Yuan Bai was even more confused than Jin Qing. He shook his head helplessly. "I had no idea."
Then he laughed. "It doesn't matter. It's fine. Now she can go find her master more easily."
Jin Qing laughed angrily. "What a broad-minded great sword immortal you are, Yuan Bai."
Yuan Bai leaned on the railing, looking somewhat tired, but also somewhat relieved, his mood lightening. "If I weren't broad-minded, I'd be suffocated to death."
After that, Yuan Bai and the mountain lord looked up together and saw the "blooming of the Sword Summit" scene. Then one of those messenger flying swords stopped in the corridor.
Yuan Bai felt his brain wasn't quite keeping up today.
Jin Qing's expression was intriguing. He directly caught the flying sword, but didn't look at the secret message. He crushed it directly and laughed, "Yuan Bai, she's gone. Do you still want to stay here? Listen to me, go to the True Realm Sect. We'll be close. Cooperating with the True Realm Sect, I can better look after the old mountains and rivers. If you keep staying on Zheng Yang Mountain, I definitely won't help you select sword immortal seedlings."
Some of the flying swords scattering like flowers had specific targets, notifying certain observers to leave.
Some were just a smokescreen. Whoever caught and opened the secret message would be baffled.
And some flying swords, besides confusing certain sword immortals on Zheng Yang Mountain's peaks, would be like mud in the crotch—whoever caught them would regret it and wish they could cut off their hands.
Yuan Bai smiled bitterly. "Is this so frivolous? After all, I am a registered guest elder on First Thread Peak's registry. It's not that simple to leave Zheng Yang Mountain. Zhu Huang and those old foxes won't agree."
Jin Qing curled his lip. "Do you think I'm the type to act on impulse? Do you think I would let you descend the mountain so recklessly without some confidence? One last thing for you: besides the Yu Gui Sect, Wei Ying, the True Realm Sect, and Liu Laocheng, someone else has promised that the swordsmen on the territory of the old Zhu Ying Dynasty will never practice the sword in a place full of foul air. Yuan Bai! If you keep hesitating, just stay. When you regret it later and have a green intestine, don't come crying to me. I'll just pretend there is no swordsman Yuan Bai in Vase Prefecture!"
Yuan Bai seemed about to speak.
Jin Qing glanced sideways at the Sword Summit, sneered coldly, then turned and patted Yuan Bai's shoulder. "He who hesitates is lost. Yuan Bai shouldn't be scraping a living in this cesspool."
Yuan Bai nodded. Jin Qing summoned the eye-catching ferry boat and took Yuan Bai aboard. They would pass near First Thread Peak later.
Jin Qing stood at the bow. First, he glanced at Fluttering Peak, where emperors and generals were crowded together. Then he looked at Cloud-Pushing Peak and Water Dragon Peak, where mountain and water gods were gathered.
At the cliff pavilion on Full Moon Peak, a messenger flying sword hovered like a finch on a branch.
Wei Liang said, "Don't take it."
But Jiang Sheng caught the flying sword anyway. Opening the secret message, she laughed silently—it was blank. Then she turned and smiled apologetically.
Wei Liang rubbed his forehead, smiling helplessly. "It's fine. You're not the only one with an itchy hand."
Not far away, Fu Nanhua and Jiang Yun each received a secret letter too. Jiang Yun opened it without hesitation and smiled knowingly. The letter said: "Fengwei Ferry, thank you for the directions."
Then Jiang Yun greeted Wei Liang and Jiang Sheng, saying she was leaving.
Jiang Sheng was puzzled. "Not staying for the ceremony? The time set by Zheng Yang Mountain is about to begin."
Jiang Yun shook her head, rode the wind, and left Zheng Yang Mountain.
Fu Nanhua opened his letter, his face full of gloom. Finally, he snorted coldly. The wording made him tremble with fear.
"You, Fu Nanhua, and Old Dragon City owe me two lives. If you are willing to repay one today, you may stay. Later, the city lord position that originally belonged to you can be ceded to your older brother or second sister."
Wei Liang said telepathically with a smile, "Nanhua, you can leave first. Really, don't be stubborn. And from now on, stay far, far away from the person who wrote this letter. The farther, the better. It's best if you two never cross paths again."
Fu Nanhua was stunned for a moment, but in the end, with caution, he cupped his fists at Wei Liang and left. As for his mountain Dao companion, his wife, he didn't greet her when he descended the mountain, and she didn't stop him or even ask a single question.
Flying swords stopped everywhere.
Some swordsmen on Zheng Yang Mountain's peaks didn't even look at them, directly shattering the messenger flying swords.
But more people, especially the distinguished mountain guests who came to observe and congratulate, found it interesting. Some mistakenly thought it was some novelty Zheng Yang Mountain had come up with, some just wanted to watch the excitement. Among them were several peak sword immortals, especially those who had seats in Zheng Yang Mountain's ancestral hall. After shattering the flying swords, more flying swords arrived. After once or twice, some hesitated and then opened the secret messages to read the contents. Among them were the peak master sword immortals of Cloud-Pushing Peak, Fluttering Peak, and Qiongzhi Peak...
The old sword immortal of Cloud-Pushing Peak read the secret letter, then slapped the flying sword to pieces, fuming. "What messy little tricks! Someone is making such a scene in the ancestral hall?!"
The secret letter didn't contain harsh words, just a baffling phrase: "Wishing the swordsmen of Cloud-Pushing Peak smooth swordplay in foreign lands."
Similar situation at Fluttering Peak.
As for Qiongzhi Peak, its female patriarch Leng Qi, after reading the lengthy secret message, pretended to be calm, but inside, she was in turmoil and terror. For a moment, she didn't even dare to go to the ancestral hall to see what was happening.
In the Northern Juzhou Prefecture, an old escort guarding cargo while walking in the desert raised his waterskin, took a sip, and smiled. Then I'll wait a little longer. Give you two to three hundred years of sword practice time.
This young Hidden Official really isn't stupid.
He sighed. He was also a rare good person.
Inexplicably, he thought of that greedy child in the town years ago, who often stood far away, lingering but not approaching.
When the sugar-coated hawthorn seller spoke out, the child never appeared in the man's sight again.
What is human nature?
It's when, after taking a small bag of rice home alone, after saying thank you, there were still silent thank-yous in his heart that didn't annoy people.
It's when a teenager, learning that a neighbor of the same age was about to leave his hometown, even though the other party was still saying harsh words at the time, he would sincerely say a plain phrase: "Take care on the road."
It's when his friend Liu Xianyang lay on the sickbed, life hanging in the balance, and he begged the owner of Yang's Medicine Shop again and again, but it was useless. Still, he bowed before leaving.
These are all extremely beautiful things.
Zouzi did not deny this; in fact, he highly approved.
True human nature is the tug-of-war between the divine nature and the beastly nature in everyone. Over time, this is called cultivation, whether on or off the mountain.
But unfortunately, in his view, this world is vast enough to accommodate many fourteen-realm cultivators, each with their own style.
But it cannot accommodate a fifteenth-realm swordsman, unprecedented and unrepeatable. And this matter has nothing to do with good and evil.
This is not a matter of fate or destiny. It is a certain kind of accidental inevitability that some people continuously seek. At least for now, among a few candidates, this young Hidden Official who successfully returned home is increasingly approaching the greatest "One." In the future, he may temporarily slow down, take a detour, or stop. But the final direction...
So Zouzi had originally planned to have someone duel with Chen Ping'an today.
Zheng Yang Mountain would be at its most arrogant, and then, as if by Chen Ping'an and Liu Xianyang's combined efforts, they would be knocked from the peak of the prefecture into the dust.
If Chen Ping'an was even slightly slow, he would suffer the same fate.
But since Chen Ping'an sensed this, given his consistent style of planning before acting, he must have many schemes. For example, that "Tian Wan," Jiang Shangzhen, and possibly even Liu Jinglong would pull out a few San Shan Talismans, and through his natal flying sword, combine with Chen Ping'an's Cage Sparrow, the imitation White Jade Capital that the Great Li court left on the Grand River specifically targeting peak cultivators...
The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind; and the slingshot is below.
Zheng Yang Mountain, Chen Ping'an, swordsman Liu Cai, Zouzi.
Except for Zheng Yang Mountain, all the players in this game are actually each other's bait in a subtle situation. It only depends on who calculates further and plans more comprehensively.
Chen Ping'an was the biggest observer of that Zheng Yang Mountain ceremony. And once he sat down in the First Thread Peak ancestral hall, he would become the host.
Liu Xianyang came to dismantle the ancestral hall today. Chen Ping'an was responsible for "disarming" Zheng Yang Mountain, from top to bottom, inside and out.
So Liu Xianyang could just climb alone, challenge gracefully, because there was a Chen Ping'an responsible for dueling with Zheng Yang Mountain in the hearts of men.
Inside the First Thread Peak ancestral hall, only two people were seated. Coincidentally, it was mountain lord versus mountain lord, sect leader versus sect leader, Jade Perfection versus Jade Perfection.
The azure-robed man was drinking tea when he suddenly smiled and said, "It's broken, it's broken."
Zhu Huang frowned slightly. Was this guy still playing tricks?
But no matter. The climber Liu Xianyang would soon be unable to receive the next sword.
Then we'll see if you, Chen Ping'an, still have the leisure to drink tea.
---
In a small state city on the border of Zheng Yang Mountain's territory, relying on the "Flowers in a Mirror, Moon on the Water" magical technique, local citizens and various low-level registered immortals and wild cultivators could watch the ceremony here using the Cloud-Pushing Mirror, a treasured treasure of Zheng Yang Mountain's Cloud-Pushing Peak.
Places like Yuanzhou's seat of government had three others, one in each of the four directions, surrounding Zheng Yang Mountain.
Both the northern and southern nations had dispatched several elite border armies to cooperate with Zheng Yang Mountain's cultivators in maintaining local order. But in the end, it was just for show. Not only because Zheng Yang Mountain's sword immortals were as numerous as clouds and its sect status was at its zenith, but more fundamentally, cultivators throughout Vase Prefecture had long become accustomed to the strict laws set by the Great Li cavalry back in the day. Any slight violation would not go unpunished. Registered immortals would not only suffer themselves but also implicate their ancestral halls. Wild cultivators would be pursued, detained, or even slain on the spot. Even now that some Great Li regulations had gradually been relaxed, inertia made them still exceptionally law-abiding.
Just one thing: for years, no swordsman from any mountain within the prefecture's borders had recklessly charged through city streets or freely flown on a sword.
If swordsmen were like this, what about other cultivators?
But today, before the ceremony even began, it was already dazzling to watch. Few could understand the reasons or depths; they just found it exciting.
However, with Zheng Yang Mountain swordsmen patrolling the city, no one dared to cheer. After all, that foreign challenger had won one round after another, and the immortal lords of Zheng Yang Mountain looked terrible.
Dong Gu, Xu Xiaoqiao, and Xie Ling, the three direct disciples of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect's sect leader, were in a tavern watching the "Flowers in a Mirror, Moon on the Water."
Dong Gu said solemnly, "Master's meaning is: no matter how Junior Brother Liu makes trouble today, even if he loses the duel, we must take him away in the end. Within the duel, as long as it's one-on-one combat, life or death, we don't meddle. Even if Liu dies on the mountain, that's his affair. But outside the duel, we absolutely cannot let Zheng Yang Mountain's cultivators rely on numbers to forcibly keep Junior Brother Liu."
Simply put, Liu Xianyang would fight his duel. When the duel ended, the Dragon Spring Sword Sect would come to take him away, alive or dead.
In short, Zheng Yang Mountain had better not think of keeping Liu Xianyang.
Dong Gu handed Xu Xiaoqiao and Xie Ling each a strange sword talisman that could shrink the land to an inch, instantly transporting them to the foot of First Thread Peak.
Saying this, Dong Gu looked at his two junior siblings. "It's about time for us to head over."
Xu Xiaoqiao nodded silently.
Xie Ling smiled. "If they dare keep Junior Brother Liu, then I'll have to challenge them to a duel."
As long as you spend time with him, it seems no one dislikes Liu Xianyang. This guy is aloof from worldly pursuits, doesn't care about false fame, can take a joke, and is cheerful with everyone.
Even the proud Xie Ling sincerely recognized his master-brother relationship with Liu Xianyang. In his heart, Xie Ling felt that Liu Xianyang being the senior brother, or even taking over as sect leader in the future, would be fine. He was just a bit lazy, far less diligent than Senior Brother Dong Gu. As for himself, Xie Ling would just focus on cultivation.
North of Zheng Yang Mountain, a small county town without the "Flowers in a Mirror, Moon on the Water" set up by Zheng Yang Mountain.
However, a group of mountain cultivators deliberately stayed away from Zheng Yang Mountain, drinking here. They had just encountered a small commotion. A bunch of reckless outsiders, not even local dragons, dared to compete with the local snakes for territory. The result was they were surrounded. Dozens of brawny martial artists from the local underworld encircled a tavern. Then a white-robed, middle-aged scholar emerged, holding a folding fan, ignoring the tense atmosphere. The strength disparity was obvious; the young outsiders were already timid. The white-robed scholar smiled and used his closed fan to gently push aside an outsider's short axe, then sat down alone. But then a foolish teenager, who didn't understand the situation, put a firewood knife to his neck. The scholar still smiled broadly and asked the tall young man sitting opposite if he knew who he was. The young man nodded. The scholar raised his folding fan without turning his head, tapped the firewood knife on his shoulder, and laughed: "Since you know, what now?"
After saying this, the scholar suddenly picked up a wine bowl and splashed the wine all over the young man's face.
Before the tall young man could swallow his anger and apologize, the teenager with the firewood knife slashed and knocked the scholar's head down.
Both sides stared at each other, dumbfounded.
At a corner table, the group of mountain cultivators included an extremely beautiful woman. She seemed surprised by the outcome and couldn't help laughing, but immediately suppressed her smile.
There were four of them.
From True Martial Mountain.
Ma Kuxian, his uncle by seniority Yu Shiwu, Ma Kuxian's first disciple—a boy who was both a military cultivator and a pure martial artist, named Wang Zu—and the maidservant Shu Dian.
Ma Kuxian had one foot on a bench, smiling broadly. He cast a paralysis spell on the local thugs and laughed at the young outsiders: "What are you staring at? You killed someone, so shouldn't you run?"
The teenagers fled in a stampede.
Ma Kuxian watched the boy who, while running, still wiped the blood off his firewood knife on another person's body. He said telepathically, "If your brother scolds you for causing trouble and you get angry, and then you have the guts to come back here, I'll take you as my disciple. You can follow me up the mountain and become an immortal."
Ma Kuxian looked toward Zheng Yang Mountain. He picked up a salted peanut and tossed it into his mouth. "The biggest problem is still the attitude of Patrol Envoy Cao. That Minister of Rites, a fence-sitter, will still follow that person's lead. If Cao Ping leans toward Zheng Yang Mountain, it'll be interesting. Wang Zu, the person you'll be sparring with in the future is over at Zheng Yang Mountain now. But you may not need to spar."
Ma Kuxian took a sip of wine, glancing at Yu Shiwu.
Yu Shiwu smiled and explained to the dull boy: "In this mountain-climbing duel, barring surprises, Chen Ping'an was destined not to make a move from the start. And Liu Xianyang, relying on his realm and the strange divine ability of his natal flying sword, can reach the Sword Summit no problem. At worst, he'll be surrounded and beaten by a few ancestral sword immortals up there. But to dismantle that ancestral hall, it will rely on Chen Ping'an, who didn't accompany Liu Xianyang in the duel. Because the true duel often doesn't require drawing a sword against anyone. Dismantling the human heart is actually the most superior sword technique."
Ma Kuxian chuckled. "Zheng Yang Mountain's sword immortals are scary."
Yu Shiwu's expression changed slightly. He sighed, opened his palm, formed a hand seal, then put