Chapter 833: As If Dragging an Empty Boat
Ning Yao asked the innkeeper for a few dishes to go with the wine, and also requested an extra room. The innkeeper glanced at Chen Ping'an, who remained silent.
Why are you looking at me? Heaven knows, we didn't conspire on anything. Besides, what could I say? I run this inn, don't I?
The closed-door disciple glanced sideways at his own Master, and the Master glanced sideways at the street outside the inn. The night was deep and heavy; traveling in a foreign land felt a bit lonely.
Sitting down at the table, Chen Ping'an poured a bowl of wine for his Master, then looked at Ning Yao. She shook her head, so he only poured a bowl for himself.
At the most difficult juncture of his life, it was the young man Zeng Yi from the Book-Snail Lake, the female ghost Su Xinzhai, and a few others who accompanied Chen Ping'an along that journey of mountains and waters.
The Old Scholar probably felt that the atmosphere was a bit silent, so he picked up his wine bowl, gently clinked it with Chen Ping'an's, and then spoke first, like a Master testing a disciple's scholarship: "The 'Jie Bi' chapter has a saying. Ping'an?"
Chen Ping'an had just taken a sip of wine. Since his Master had mentioned "Jie Bi," the answer was actually easy to guess. He quickly put down his wine bowl and said, "Master once said, 'Wine confuses one's spirit.'"
The Old Scholar laughed and asked, "Then do you know why I advised the world like that back then?"
Chen Ping'an said, "I guess it was because Master was poor back then and couldn't afford to drink, so you were sour toward those who could buy wine without blinking an eye?"
The Old Scholar slapped the table with a laugh and said, "What is a proud disciple? This is it!"
Unlike Zuo You back then, who stupidly liked to use those words to block him. Couldn't he, as the Master, contradict himself? He had written so many sage and virtuous principles in his books—enough to fill several large baskets—could he really live up to every single one?
The most considerate and warmest one was indeed his closed-door disciple.
The Old Scholar drank a bowl of wine heartily. The bowl had barely landed when Chen Ping'an had already refilled it. The Old Scholar stroked his beard and sighed with emotion, "I was really craving it back then. The worst part was at night, reading by lamplight, hearing some drunkards vomiting in the alley. I wished I could sew their mouths shut. Wasting wine and wasting money! Back then, I set a great ambition. Ping'an?"
Chen Ping'an said, "If in the coming years you became a high court official or a Confucian sage, you would establish a rule: no vomiting allowed while drinking."
The Old Scholar nodded, "Yes, yes."
Ning Yao changed her mind and poured herself a bowl of wine.
Chen Ping'an roughly told the story about Book-Snail Lake and Su Xinzhai, and also mentioned the old village woman who had endured a life of hardship with great composure.
The Old Scholar crushed a salted peanut shell between two fingers, put the kernel in his mouth, and nodded, "The only true learning for heroes in this world is the word 'composure.' When petty men turn the world upside down, and you set it right with a backhand—that is composure. If I have the heart but lack the strength, and can't help the situation, being able to keep myself upright is still composure."
In fact, all three of them knew full well that the inn, the girl, the large vase—all of these were arrangements by Cui Chan.
A Book-Snail Lake had left Chen Ping'an trapped in a ghostly maze for years, wasting away to skin and bones. But once he got through it, it seemed that aside from the suffering, there was only the suffering left.
Cui Chan never gave much else, especially never giving Chen Ping'an any tangible benefit. Whether it was the final landscape painting of Tongye Continent or the girl in the inn tonight, it was as if Cui Chan had only placed a point of light in the distance on Chen Ping'an's path of the heart. If you didn't reach that point yourself, or chose to avoid it and take a detour, you would miss it for a lifetime. What Cui Chan did seemed to be telling Chen Ping'an a very cruel truth: despair is something you seek out yourself, and so hope must also be something you seek out yourself.
Ning Yao asked, "Since you've been lucky enough to be reunited with her in this life, what do you plan to do next?"
In Ning Yao's view, Su Xinzhai in this life was a girl who barely had some aptitude for cultivation. Naturally, she could be taken to the Fallen Mountain for cultivation. Don't forget that Chen Ping'an's greatest skill was not actually bookkeeping, nor even cultivation, but rather protecting others along their path.
But Ning Yao didn't think that having the girl ascend the mountain and start cultivating immediately was necessarily the best choice.
Chen Ping'an said, "I'll need to talk with her a bit more first."
In fact, on the way here, Chen Ping'an had been considering this matter, carefully and attentively.
Generally speaking, only through cultivation could the inn girl, who still didn't know her name in this life, have a chance to open her spiritual aperture, remember her past life, continue the karmic ties of this life, and fulfill the wishes of her previous incarnation.
Just like many ordinary people, on the road of life, they can always meet people who look "familiar." But most don't think much of it; they just take a few glances and then pass by.
But remembering past lives and past events—is that necessarily what Su Xinzhai ultimately wanted in her past life, or what the girl in this life currently desires?
The Old Scholar laughed, "Treat the little girl however is best for her. As for what is truly best, there's no need to rush. Many times we have to admit that not everything can be planned in advance. Sometimes, you really have to wait for things to happen before you can solve them. Ping'an, especially don't forget one thing: to the girl, she is just herself. It's only in your eyes that she is Su Xinzhai of Book-Snail Lake and Huangli Mountain."
If she doesn't ascend the mountain—for example, staying here in the Great Li Capital, living a stable life in the mortal world—even if her years are shorter, marrying a husband, raising children, dealing with daily necessities—that is still a good thing. If the little girl one day is willing to ascend the mountain herself, then it won't be too late to start cultivating. The Fallen Mountain still has some resources; it doesn't lack teachers or spirit money.
Chen Ping'an nodded, "I must understand this principle first before I can do the right things later."
From beginning to end, Chen Ping'an appeared very calm, but in the short time of a few words, he had already drunk several gulps of wine.
Drinking too fast is a major taboo at the table. Even if you have a high tolerance for alcohol, you can still capsize your boat in the wine vat, and then most likely end up under the table, declaring yourself unbeatable and not drunk.
Chen Ping'an asked, "Master, why did you suddenly go to the Imitation White Jade Capital to debate with someone?"
The Old Scholar crossed his legs, took a sip of wine, and said with a chuckle, "After cultivating myself in the Merit Forest for many years, I had accumulated a bellyful of petty grievances. As for my scholarship, after reading there for so many years, I also made some small progress. The real reason is that my mouth itched, much like when I had no money in my pocket but craved wine."
Chen Ping'an nodded, "This time, Master, although I regret not seeing or hearing the debate myself, just based on the celestial phenomena that swept across half of the Haoran World, I know that your opponent's scholarship was as high as the heavens. Master, shouldn't we clink glasses for this?"
The Old Scholar put one foot on the bench, lifted his wine bowl, gently clinked it, and nodded vigorously, "Old Master's scholarship is indeed extremely high. He is the most 'water-like' heavenly sage in the world, without any 'one of the' qualifiers. Very formidable."
The Old Scholar and Chen Ping'an each finished a bowl of wine. Chen Ping'an smiled and turned his bowl over to show it was empty. The Old Scholar glanced at his own bowl, sulkily took another small sip, and then turned his empty bowl over, saying, "Fill it up, keep filling it." The Old Scholar thought to himself, if you keep drinking like this, don't actually get drunk tonight. Then tomorrow you'll wake up at noon and blame me again. With Zuo You and Jun Qian not around, when I'm the Master...
Chen Ping'an poured wine again, even took off his boots, sat cross-legged, and sighed, "Master, this is truly going against the 'advantage of time and place' with just 'human harmony' alone."
The Old Scholar sighed deeply, "Suffering losses, difficult."
Ning Yao noticed that the two of them—Master and disciple—one didn't mention winning or losing, and the other didn't ask about the outcome. They just praised that Old Master here.
The higher the Old Master's scholarship, since the Master still won, naturally it meant the Master's scholarship was even higher.
The Old Scholar turned his head and smiled, "Ning girl, this time your distant sword flight was known throughout the world. From now on, I'll have a word with A Liang and Zuo You. Let them both give up their titles of 'highest sword intent' and 'highest swordsmanship.'"
Ning Yao said, "I won't come to Haoran often in the future. The Confucian Temple doesn't need to worry about that."
If it weren't for the Old Master of Literary Studies, she wouldn't bother explaining even this much.
The Old Scholar shook his head with a smile, "Why worry about that? The Confucian Temple still has that much magnanimity. And now that Ritual Sage is personally handling affairs, the atmosphere is very different from before. If you don't come often, Ning girl, that's what I'd worry about. What I'm truly concerned about is your lack of freedom from now on."
Look at the Three Religion Founders—do they ever visit each other's homes?
As the number one person in the Five-Colored World, Ning Yao's future situation would certainly be much better than Chen Qingdu's ten thousand years of guarding the city wall, but there would still be a similar kind of... hardship.
Ning Yao said, "Freedom to travel across an entire world is more than enough."
The Old Scholar sighed and shook his head, "You said that too early."
Ning Yao felt a bit helpless, but since the Old Master of Literary Studies said so, she would just listen.
She remembered something and told Chen Ping'an. The old coachman had previously promised her that Chen Ping'an could ask him three questions that didn't require breaking any oaths.
Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded.
The Old Scholar seemed to have been inspired by something. After drinking wine, he said with a chuckle, "Some bastards who have made a name for themselves can't be taught, no matter how much you try. They won't change. You just have to wait for them to rot through completely."
As for who the Old Scholar was cursing—maybe it was some old slick officials who did nothing but were the best at creating obstacles in officialdom, perhaps some old sword immortals of Zhengyang Mountain, maybe some old fellows in the Haoran World whose life-preserving skills were higher than their realms. The Old Scholar didn't name names. Who knows?
Chen Ping'an nodded, "Noted."
Almost simultaneously, the three of them detected an unusual aura.
It wasn't in the Great Li Capital, but far away in the capital's surrounding area, on a Yin Nether path that living people avoided.
The Old Scholar relied on the Heavenly-human resonance between a sage and heaven and earth. Ning Yao relied on her Transcending Realm cultivation. Chen Ping'an relied on the ripples in his Dao-heart caused by the Dao's suppression.
Chen Ping'an stood up, "I'll go take a look outside."
Ning Yao was about to follow Chen Ping'an out of the inn.
The Old Scholar laughed, "Ning girl, you don't need to follow. The Great Li court has already done a good job clearing the path. Your sword intent is too strong; it won't help. It's fine, I have some matters regarding the Five-Colored World to discuss with you—things I figured out myself, not abusing public office for private gain."
A pure sword cultivator, outside of battle, has infinite killing power and is the best at killing people, but not necessarily at keeping them alive.
Ning Yao sat back down. Chen Ping'an shrank the earth and rivers, his green-clad figure ethereal, dispersing and gathering. In one step, he arrived near the capital's city wall. Looking into the distance, he saw hundreds of miles away, Yin energy surging into the sky, converging into a winding river.
On that mountain-and-water path, which deliberately avoided inhabited areas and desolate wilderness, the Yin energy and ghostly aura were too heavy. Because there were few living people and Yang energy was thin, ordinary Qi refiners, even terrestrial immortals, might have their Dao cultivation worn down by getting too close. If one used Qi-gazing techniques to look closely, they could see that the trees along the path, though not stepped on at all and having no contact with the spirits, had already shown an unusual deathly pallor, like a person's face turning blue.
A group of Great Li Qi refiners on the outer city wall were responsible for guarding this section. One of the old feudatories asked the suddenly appearing green-clad sword immortal, "Who goes there?"
Chen Ping'an took out a "Nothing Wrong" token from the Ministry of Justice from his sleeve and hung it at his waist. Since he was one of their own, the old feudatory verified the token's authenticity and simply cupped his fists without further inquiry.
Chen Ping'an was silent for a moment, then asked, "Old sir, is the number particularly large this time? Looks like about thirty thousand?"
The old feudatory nodded, "Because this is the second-to-last batch, the number is relatively large."
In fact, the old feudatory didn't want to chat much at first, but the uninvited guest had said "number of people" instead of words like "ghosts" or "spirits," which made the old man willing to respond.
In the northern territory of Great Li, at the Song clan's place of rising dragon, there had been for many years a Water and Land Dharma Assembly hosted by the Capital Sutra Translation Bureau and a Grand Zhou Heavenly Sacrifice managed by the Chongxu Bureau, to guide the Yin souls and spirits from the battlefield sites back to their northern hometowns. This had been going on for years, day and night without cease, and still hadn't ended. This was because too many Great Li border soldiers had died in foreign lands. In recent years, the Great Li court, by imperial decree, had the Ministry of Rites take the lead in preparing this matter, the Ministry of Revenue paid for it, and the Ministry of War sent people to guard it. Just for these grand processions of Yin soldiers, three mountain-and-water routes of enormous cost had been opened.
Each time they traveled, thousands or even tens of thousands of battlefield spirits and wandering souls would stop during the day to avoid being exposed to the sun and having their residual souls scattered. They would rest in the mountain-and-water formations set up by Great Li Qi refiners along the way, traveling only at night. Virtuous monks chanted sutras and led the way with staffs, Daoist masters murmured Dao incantations and shook bells to guide them, and the Imperial Observatory's Qi refiners and the Great Li Iron Cavalry guarded both sides of the road to prevent the spirits from straying and dispersing. Additionally, the cooperation of various mountain and water gods, city gods, and civil and military temples ensured that no major mishaps occurred, and that the living populace was not disturbed.
It was rumored that a Deputy Minister of War from the capital, who had originally been a border soldier, once publicly threatened Ministry of Revenue officials: "Don't talk to me about difficulties. This matter is non-negotiable. Even if you have to sell off everything, even dismantle your office buildings for money, you must ensure that all the souls of the Great Li border soldiers do not linger too long on the battlefield sites to the point of scattering." To this end, the Ministry of War had temporarily assigned five or six people to stay at the Ministry of Revenue office every day to supervise and push this matter forward. Arguments were common.
Besides the Great Li feudatory cultivators, Confucian Academy gentlemen and worthies, and eminent figures from Buddhism and Daoism guiding the path, there were also geomancers from the Imperial Observatory, spirits from the capital's civil and military temples, the Capital City God Temple, and the Earth God Temple, each performing their duties, receiving the spirits at various mountain-and-water crossings.
Chen Ping'an stood on the city wall, watching the night journey from afar.
The homeland was safe, but where were the old friends? The mountains and rivers stretched far, and the clouds and mists were vast.
These mountains and waters met again, but they were already separated by life and death, by Yin and Yang.
Indeed, there weren't so many encounters that felt like old times, with tender words and laughter.
Chen Ping'an turned his head and saw Song Xu and his group of young cultivators flying through the air in the distance. They were probably in a hurry to reach the Yin Nether path as soon as possible. Everyone was racing like the wind, not hiding their tracks. The sword cultivator Song Xu rode his sword, trailing an extremely long golden line. Array Master Han Zhoujin seemed to be walking, each step covering several miles of mountains and rivers, with ripples of spiritual Qi blooming beneath her feet like night-blooming flowers. Additionally, Dao Registrar Ge Ling, military cultivator Yu Yu, Confucian student Lu Hui, and the little novice monk Hou Jue each displayed their own divine abilities and techniques as they hurried through the distance.
Chen Ping'an transformed into eighteen sword beams of light. On the city wall, it was as if flowers suddenly bloomed. A dozen miles away, Chen Ping'an stumbled as he landed, continuing to travel using the still-unfamiliar sword evasion technique. Finally, he hovered at a high altitude, using several talismans, including the Snow Mud Talisman, to conceal his aura. He crouched on a tree branch at the top of a desolate mountain, looking down at the road below.
The Lu Hui, Hou Jue, and Ge Ling, who belonged to the three traditions of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, were clearly well-versed in leading this matter. They had already landed at the front of the Yin Nether path where the Yin soldiers were passing, walking alongside the Great Li Qi refiners of their respective lineages. There was also the little girl from the Yu family, the number one pillar of the state, who was reluctant to fall behind. She walked shoulder-to-shoulder with a group of spirits from the military temples in the capital and the surrounding areas.
A mountain-and-water path for guiding spirits, very wide, seemed to be divided into four camps. Behind Yu Yu and the military temple spirits, the numbers were the largest, accounting for nearly half.
Song Xu and Han Zhoujin found a young man guarding the rear. He was riding in the midst of the Great Li Iron Cavalry, an Infant Soul realm sword cultivator under a hundred years old.
Seeing the two, the cavalry commander only nodded. Han Zhoujin took out two Horse Armor talismans, and she and Song Xu rode forward. Han Zhoujin sent a voice transmission to a female cultivator she was friendly with: "What's going on?"
Because Han Zhoujin had noticed earlier that the leading virtuous monks and Daoist masters tonight were unfamiliar faces, and they looked haggard, as if they had suffered considerable injuries. Especially the military temple spirits—as they walked forward, she could even see their golden bodies wearing away to a visible degree, starlight scattering into the night.
The female colleague, looking exhausted, said, "First, the number to guide is truly too large this time. Second, the Ministry of Rites earlier issued a strict order, a personal document from the Minister himself, with harsh wording. It said that this official Yin Nether road has consumed too much spiritual Qi, already disrupting the mountain and water's fortune by at least twenty percent more than expected. Clearly, they're blaming us for poor work, worried that there might be an accident in the last night journey. The Minister himself has spoken. What can we do but grit our teeth and bear the loss of our cultivation? Otherwise, in the next evaluation by the Ministry of Rites and Ministry of Justice, no one will be off the hook easily."
Song Xu asked, "Hua Jing, has anyone been causing trouble along the way?"
That Infant Soul realm sword cultivator said indifferently, "Go read the intelligence reports yourself later."
Song Xu was used to this. This Yuan Huajing had the nickname "Yelang." He was the leader of a small group of five Qi refiners.
The two sides had incompatible temperaments and usually didn't get along. Only on the battlefield would they cooperate seamlessly.
Yuan Huajing frowned slightly. He noticed a dozen battlefield spirits on the road ahead starting to dissipate. He said gravely, "Du Jian, are you blind?"
A young man behind him, looking pale with chapped and bleeding lips, dressed as a cavalry soldier, was already completely exhausted. He had been dozing on his horse while gently nurturing his spiritual Qi, his mind and spirit utterly fatigued. But upon hearing Yuan Huajing's words, he rose without hesitation, stepped lightly, and flew forward. He raised a palm, twisted his wrist, and between his fingers appeared several strands of gentle aura. With a slight lift, the strands gathered and formed an array, shining with golden light. It was a brilliantly radiant compass. The light scattered onto the ground where the Yin spirits and ghosts were walking.
The young cavalryman flew like this, holding the compass in his hand, protecting the area, shining blessed light on any lingering soul that showed signs of dispersing.
Song Xu reminded, "Too much is as bad as too little."
Yuan Huajing said calmly, "It doesn't seem to be your place as a Golden Core to meddle."
Yuan Huajing's group, totaling five people, besides him, an Infant Soul realm sword cultivator, also included a ghost cultivator, a Yin-Yang Qi refiner, and the other two were former rogue cultivators.
They were clearly more murderous than Song Xu's group of six small peaks.
Song Xu didn't mind and instead proactively told Yuan Huajing about the young Hidden Officer's arrival in the capital, having met him, and also about the peculiarity of the Dao teacher named Feng Yi.
Yuan Huajing nodded, "We saw the sword beams from Ning Yao earlier."
Song Xu hesitated for a moment, then still reminded, "Keep public and private separate."
This cavalry commander next to him came from the Yuan family, a pillar of the state. Yuan Huajing's own younger brother was the one who had married the legitimate daughter of the Xu family from Qingfeng City, a concubine's son.
Yuan Huajing sneered, "Because His Highness the Prince is surnamed Song, does that give you the right to be so overbearing?"
Song Xu was momentarily speechless, then suddenly laughed, "You really should have a good talk with that Hidden Officer Chen."
Yuan Huajing rarely took the initiative to speak, "Are the six of you still that hard to deal with when you join forces?"
Song Xu nodded, "Yu Yu said they would just be chopped up like vegetables. Afterward, there was a review. Lu Hui said that relying on those words Chen Ping'an had spoken would be of no use in battle, completely negligible."
Yuan Huajing said, "On the Ministry of Justice side, has Zhao You still not found a suitable person? If it's that Zhou Haijing, I don't think she's weighty enough."
Song Xu shook his head, "You know very well who Zheng Qian is. Assistant Minister Zhao had to settle for the next best thing, determining aptitude through her fistfighting competition with Yu Hong."
Yuan Huajing frowned, "I'm not optimistic about Zhou Haijing, this female martial artist."
Song Xu said helplessly, "Otherwise, where can we find a young peak-realm martial artist who also has a hope of reaching the tenth realm? As for martial fortune, we're already second only to the Central Continent. The embroiderer that the Ministry of Justice recruited before didn't have that aspiration. And in my opinion, she's about the same as Zhou Haijing. Besides, she's from Beiju Continent, not quite suitable."
That vacancy for a pure martial artist had actually had a suitable candidate in the early years, but he died young at Book-Snail Lake.
Otherwise, once the twelve Earthly Branches were fully supplemented, according to the meticulous deductions of the Ministry of Justice and the Imperial Observatory, twelve Qi refiners and pure martial artists, all under a hundred years old, could combine to kill a Celestial Immortal realm cultivator who wasn't a sword cultivator.
The most crucial part was their endless, interlocking means to ensure that not one of their own died, and even that their realms wouldn't drop.
The pity was that the true killer move, the eye of the formation, happened to be that pure martial artist position that had always remained unfilled.
Otherwise, in the previous battle at the auxiliary capital, they would have killed far more than just two Jade Purity realm demon army cultivators.
Those two demon heads had both been decapitated by Yuan Huajing's flying sword.
These eleven people were all night travelers. Before founding their sect in the coming year, they were destined to remain unknown.
Yuan Huajing suddenly turned his head to look at a mountain ridge and said, "Chen Ping'an, why bother hiding? Do you like watching from the shadows that much?"
Chen Ping'an, upon hearing this, only glanced at the young Infant Soul realm sword cultivator and ignored the provocation.
Upon arriving here, Chen Ping'an had already begun to circulate the spiritual Qi in his five key natal palaces and the various reservoir mountain peaks.
Yuan Huajing sneered, "Since you've chosen to stand by with your hands in your sleeves, kindly go farther away. Less irritation here."
The mountain and water gods protecting the path along the way were consuming their hard-earned pure incense and even wearing down their golden bodies.
As for the Qi refiners, besides depleting their accumulated spiritual Qi, they could even wear down their Dao cultivation. If they made one misstep, they could also damage their ancestral and hidden blessings.
Even a sword cultivator like Yuan Huajing, who seemed to have nothing to do, still had to use his sword Qi to protect the Great Li Iron Cavalry along the way, a constant expenditure.
Thus, this night journey on the Yin Nether road was a thankless and bitter task for everyone. Afterward, several offices of the Great Li court would certainly compensate them, but if you really counted, the loss was still obvious.
Yet even so, they still did it. It was simply a matter of duty.
The woman riding alongside Han Zhoujin was that ghost cultivator. She transmitted her voice, "Having seen the young Hidden Officer, how does he look?"
Han Zhoujin smiled, "Extremely good. Elegant bearing, sword immortal style."
The female ghost pouted, "But since he's come, and only watches from afar, I won't admire him as much as before."
Han Zhoujin explained with a smile, "He's a sword immortal, after all. Even if he's also a martial arts grandmaster whose fist techniques have reached the divine, what can he do?"
The female ghost nodded, deeply convinced, "Right! That makes sense!"
But in her heart, there was still regret.
What could she do? Couldn't a female ghost have spring fever? A young man from her hometown, who had loyally guarded a city wall for years for the woman he loved—couldn't she admire him a bit?
With her temper, if she ever met him face to face, she wouldn't hesitate to pounce like a hungry tiger. She'd take whatever advantage she could.
Chen Ping'an, from the treetop on the peak, finally carefully surveyed the specific situation of the thirty thousand battlefield souls.
The next moment, a brilliant sword beam tore through the night.
It illuminated the earth and the road below as bright as day, every detail visible. But the most unusual thing was that this sword energy was so grand and righteous that all the Yin spirits and ghosts on the Yin Nether path showed no fear at all. Instead, even those ghosts whose spiritual wisdom had long been muddled gained an unusual clarity in their eyes.
Far in the distance, an illusory mountain peak suddenly stood up on the road, like a cultivator's Dharma body.
Beneath the feet of the military temple spirits, Yu Yu, and the little novice monk Hou Jie—the leading guides—ripples appeared. Under the moonlight, they shimmered like... a smooth, mirror-like watery road had appeared.
It was a magnificent pattern of mountains and waters complementing each other, with abundant Dao energy in the mountains and ample spiritual Qi in the water.
Not only that, the little novice monk Hou Jie suddenly lowered his head and then turned around, surprised to find that the long line of ghostly beings stretching for miles had a golden scripture appearing beneath their feet.
All the Yin spirits and ghosts, as they walked along this road, had golden lotuses blooming beneath each step, swaying gracefully.
Beneath the feet of the Confucian student Lu Hui, the spirits following behind walked on a road made of snow-white characters refined from border poetry. Characters strung into sentences, sentences into poems, poems into a road.
Beneath the feet of Dao Registrar Ge Ling and several Daoist masters, there were abstruse Dao incantations, turning the road into a colorful, crystalline path.
And Yu Yu was shocked to find that on the road ahead of her, in the watery light, there appeared a large number of phantom flying swords, as big as boats, paving the way.
The phenomena didn't stop there. When that green-clad figure in the far distance began to slowly ascend the mountain, in an instant, golden threads burst forth from him, drifting away, connecting one by one to the more than thirty thousand souls who had died in battle.
One man climbed the mountain, dragging them forward.
Using the consumption of his own merit, he refined countless causal threads, linking himself to the thirty thousand souls behind him. The green-clad figure led the way.
After that, the climbing figure's back became faster and faster, until he finally flew with the wind. It was like an empty boat, a ferry, leading thirty thousand souls across mountains and rivers, flying forward at an unimaginably fast speed, heading for the Water and Land Dharma Assembly and the Grand Zhou Heavenly Sacrifice.
The myriad mountain and water gods and all kinds of Qi refiners suddenly had nothing to do.
They just followed.
Even the sword cultivator Yuan Huajing, whose Dao heart was as firm as steel, stood speechless.
Song Xu, however, smiled knowingly. The Hidden Officer Chen really knew how to "chat."
Song Xu, a prince of the Great Li Song clan, collected his thoughts and, from afar, cupped his fists in salute to that figure, his heart full of admiration.
The female ghost was dumbstruck. After a long time, she murmured, "So much merit, and he just gives it up like that? Such a losing deal. Even I, an outsider, feel heartache."
Han Zhoujin's eyes sparkled with light as she said with a smile, "He's the Hidden Officer. Nothing he does is surprising."
That green-clad figure, upon nearing the destination, just turned around, heavily cupped his fists in salute to the battlefield souls, and then transformed into a rainbow of sword light and departed.
Perhaps among tonight's night-traveling group were some of those border cavalry riders from the blizzard road that year, or their comrades on the battlefield.
At the very tail of the procession, a carriage—since the Deputy Minister of Rites inside was not a mountain cultivator and shouldn't get too close—called over a border military officer traveling with them. After discussion, Song Xu, Yuan Huajing, and all the gods and cultivators received an order: tonight's matter was not to be leaked to anyone for now; they had to wait for news from the Ministry of Rites.
On a quiet mountain peak in the capital's outskirts, Chen Ping'an's figure landed. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and sat cross-legged to stabilize the chaotic energy within his small world.
The Old Scholar quietly arrived and laughed, "You've worked hard to accumulate some savings, and you just give them away like that?"
This closed-door disciple's actions were very thoughtful. Not only had he helped guide the way, but he had also used a method: before acting, he had sincerely declared to Heaven and Earth his identity as a Confucian scholar, thus allowing him to only spend merit and earn none.
Chen Ping'an immediately opened his eyes and laughed, "What comes from Heaven and Earth should be returned to Heaven and Earth—it's a natural principle. It's like working hard to earn money, just so you can spend it freely. Besides, I can earn more later."
The Old Scholar crouched beside him, hummed in agreement, and let Chen Ping'an rest a bit more. Out of nowhere, he sighed, "I pity the plum blossom under the moon, unwilling to sleep all night."
Chen Ping'an echoed, "Unable to sleep all night, the moon and plum blossoms pity me."
The Old Scholar clapped his hands together in delight, "Excellent."
Chen Ping'an said, "Indeed, you are my Master's disciple."
The Old Scholar laughed, "You little rascal, there's no outsider here now, what a waste of words."
Chen Ping'an then stopped breathing and meditating, instead taking out two jugs of glutinous rice wine from his hometown, one for each of them.
The Old Scholar laughed, "This sword technique of evasion—still not mastered? Why not ask Ning girl for advice?"
Chen Ping'an honestly replied, "Master, it's really not that I'm too embarrassed to learn this sword technique from Ning Yao. With my thick skin, learning from anyone is the same. And with Ning Yao, I don't need to be pretentious. Besides, when I first started practicing fist techniques, I learned the characters and understood the fist principles from her, with the manual laid out on the table. But I don't want Ning Yao to overthink things—like thinking that I'm practicing swordsmanship with ease while she suffered, or that I'm suffering when I'm not. Actually, there's no real suffering. To tell the truth, practicing swordsmanship is much easier than practicing fists."
The Old Scholar said, "Only relatively speaking. In reality, it's not easy at all."
Then the Old Scholar stroked his beard and smiled, unable to help but praise, "This is truly good and kind."
In terms of romantic love, especially the ability to apply what one learns, among his direct disciples, Cui Chan, Zuo You, Jun Qian, Xiao Qi—all of them combined probably couldn't match this closed-door disciple.
Chen Ping'an suddenly felt guilty, "It seems I'm always making you run around like this. I'm the one who gives you the least peace of mind."
The Old Scholar took a sip of wine and said softly, "Don't say such foolish things. Don't say them anymore, or I'll get angry."
If he got angry, he couldn't help but want to scold Zuo You and Jun Qian. But those two weren't around now—one was at the Sword Qi Great Wall ruins, the other had gone to the Qingming World to find Bai Ye. Not being able to scold them was even more uncomfortable.
The Old Scholar rolled his eyes, coughed lightly, and said in a low voice, "Ping'an, Ning girl—for some reason—said we should go to your senior brother's place to catch up."
Chen Ping'an turned his head and looked at his Master with a mournful expression, "Master, what's going on? You've already traveled so much for me. You can't do this to me."
The Old Scholar tugged at his beard, even more pained, and sulkily raised his wine jug, "Down the hatch, down the hatch."
Chen Ping'an complained, "Down the hatch my foot. Master, drink by yourself."
The Old Scholar cried out in mock outrage, then suddenly said, "Oh, by the way, Ping'an. Master settled your engagement letter at the inn earlier. Ning girl accepted it. But she also said the wedding banquet must first be held in Ascending City."
Chen Ping'an's eyes lit up, "Master, down the hatch, down the hatch!"
The Old Scholar shook his arm, self-pitying, "Down the hatch my foot. I'll drink by myself."
Chen Ping'an insisted on clinking jugs with his Master, "Master, your contributions are great! I can't accept that!"
After finishing the wine, the Old Scholar said, "Oh, and Ning girl needs to go with me to the Confucian Temple. There are some things Ritual Sage wants to say. It's not that Ritual Sage puts on airs and won't come to Baoping Continent himself, but since it's official business, it's more proper to do it at the Merit Forest. Don't worry, Ping'an. It's all family. Ritual Sage will give a hard time to anyone but Ning girl. The round trip won't take much time."
Chen Ping'an nodded lightly, without any objection.
The Master and disciple drank their wine on the mountain peak and then returned together to the alley in the capital. As for the inn, they decided against it.
The old Infant Soul realm cultivator blocked the way again, frowning. "Chen Ping'an, you and Ning Yao are fine, but bringing another outsider is against the rules."
Even Zhao Duanming dared not speak in support of his newly recognized Brother Chen in such matters.
The Old Scholar looked at the young man and asked with a chuckle, "Young talent, been struck by lightning quite a few times, have you?"
Zhao Duanming nodded, "A good man doesn't boast of his past glories. Less than ten times."
Chen Ping'an smiled and explained, "This is my Master. He's not an outsider."
Liu Jia asked doubtfully, "Which Master?"
The Old Scholar adjusted his collar and shook his sleeves.
Chen Ping'an continued, "He is my literary lineage's Master, and also the Master of Senior Brothers Cui Chan and Teacher Qi."
The old cultivator couldn't believe it. For a moment, he was flustered and didn't dare to speak.
Even though the statue of the Literary Sage had long been moved out of the Central Continent Confucian Temple, and he hadn't had cold pig head meat for many years, for a mountain cultivator like Liu Jia, a Confucian sage who had once stood alongside Ritual Sage and Secondary Sage, a man who had taught the Embroidery Tiger Cui Chan, the sword immortal Zuo You, and Teacher Qi—when such a distant existence suddenly appeared right before his eyes, being flustered and speechless was the only option.
Zhao Duanming transmitted his voice, "Brother Chen, is it really the Literary Sage?"
Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded, "Otherwise?"
Zhao Duanming immediately bowed and said, "Zhao Duanming of the Great Li Tianshui Zhao clan pays respects to the Literary Sage!"
The Old Scholar laughed, "Immortal Liu, Duanming, there's no need for such formality."
Liu Jia cupped his fists and said tremblingly, "Liu Jia pays respects to the Literary Sage."
The Old Scholar waved his hand and walked with Chen Ping'an into the alley. At the courtyard gate, since it wasn't locked, Chen Ping'an pushed it open. He turned around and found his Master standing outside the door, not stepping over the threshold for a long time.
Chen Ping'an stopped and waited quietly for his Master.
The Old Scholar looked into the door, not moving for a long time, muttering to himself, "Since your luck was so bad as to become my first disciple, then Master won't say you worked hard. Some things, Master did wrong."
The old friend inside the door, the old man outside the door—since ancient times, sages have all been lonely.
In the end, the Old Scholar didn't enter the "People Say Cloud Say" building, but sat on a stone stool in the courtyard outside the book building. Chen Ping'an moved some books from the building onto the table. The Old Scholar drank wine and slowly flipped through the books.
Actually, these were all works from the Old Scholar's early years, before he became the Literary Sage, so they were first editions, poorly printed and not excellent. But the pages were unusually clean, like new books. And on the title page of each book, there was no bookplate from any later reader, and no marginal notes or annotations.
Chen Ping'an sat on the threshold of the book building, breathing and meditating, his eyes closed to rest. The only sound in his ears was the rustling of his Master turning pages.
Finally, the Old Scholar flipped to a page that happened to contain the contents of the "Jie Bi" chapter. He closed the book and tucked it into his sleeve.
All night, nothing happened and no words were spoken. Only the bright moon passed away, the great sun rose, and the human world was filled with light.