Chapter 834: Here She Comes
Chen Ping'an took leave of his teacher and left the alley early in the morning.
Thinking about that letter of engagement—his teacher had given it, and Ning Yao had accepted it—Chen Ping'an was in a good mood.
That old cultivator responsible for guarding the alley had set up that white jade dojo in the alley again. For the rest of his life, aside from cultivation, the old man had no other hobbies anyway.
Liu Jia genuinely just liked cultivating the Dao. As for realms and such, he didn't force it; come or not, it was fine—he wasn't going to pander to anyone.
But it was strange. Had that disciple of his gotten struck by lightning again yesterday, since he hadn't been protecting him? Rarely, he hadn't been making a fuss and showing off martial skills. Instead, he had spent the whole night breathing and circulating Qi, very diligently. Using the River Chariot Conveyance technique of the Gold Liquid Reverting Elixir lineage, he had repeatedly cycled the Minor Circulation. Probably because sincerity moved the heavens, he actually looked quite proper.
Liu Jia, besides his own cultivation that night, cycling Qi through the Great Circulation, used his visualization divine ability to roam, like an immortal riding a crane through a vast world of a unique golden jade forest. He emerged from the Crimson Palace, descended from the white crane, and at the Longevity Bridge, he contemplated water to comprehend the Dao. The old cultivator also had to divert his attention to monitor Zhao Duanming's Qi flow route, so that afterward he could pick out flaws and help the disciple fill in gaps.
Chen Ping'an stopped near the alley entrance, waited a moment, crooked his fingers as if knocking on a door, tapped gently, and laughed: "Old Immortal Liu, just dropping by—you don't mind, do you?"
When the knocking sound came in the alley, Liu Jia had actually just gathered his mind, finishing his cultivation session. The old Nascent Soul sighed with emotion. This young man truly deserved to be the junior brother of the Embroidered Tiger. His vision was sharp—through a dojo's small world, he could still perceive the old cultivator's cultivation state so clearly. The old cultivator rose from his cushion, employed his divine ability to open a small door in the white jade dojo, and said, "Please come in."
Adding the word "please"—that was out of respect for the fact that his teacher was the Literary Sage. It had little to do with being a sword immortal or a Hidden Official.
But within just that single day, first this young Hidden Official dropped by, then Ning Yao's fierce sword strike, and then the Literary Sage's grand arrival. Liu Jia felt that on his usually quiet cultivation path, it had rarely been so lively.
But earlier he had thought about going to drink with that man. Could it be that now he couldn't drink, and had to settle for raising three cups of wine in salute to the old coachman from afar?
Chen Ping'an stepped inside, glanced at the still-cultivating youth, and communicated via heart voice: "Old Immortal, are you planning to wait until Duanming reaches the Golden Core realm before teaching him a superior Thunder Method that naturally matches his fate?"
Liu Jia's expression was strange. He really wanted to nod, to puff himself up in front of this young man who was only forty. But in the end, the old man's conscience wouldn't allow it. Face didn't matter. He sighed, "I don't have any damn thunder method secret manual. Worrying me to death."
Chen Ping'an asked in surprise: "With the foundation of the Heavenly Water Zhao Clan, can't they even find a single orthodox Thunder Department method?"
Liu Jia shook his head. "Over the years, the Zhao Clan has only found a few heretical thunder method secret manuals. They're a hundred thousand miles away from Dragon Tiger Mountain's orthodox five thunders. Even if they dared to give them, I wouldn't dare to teach them."
This really was a sword immortal who didn't know the price of firewood and rice. The thunder method was hailed as the ancestor of all methods on the mountains. Such true method secret records were not easy to obtain. Moreover, it wasn't a matter of money. On Bao Ping Continent, there were few mountain experts who specialized in thunder methods, and none that came close to being 'orthodox.' Even the Grand Celestial Lord Qi Zhen of the Divine Admonition Sect dared not claim to be proficient in thunder methods.
Chen Ping'an thought for a moment and said, "I'll be making a trip to the Central Plains Continent later. I have a mountain friend, a purple and yellow noble from the Heavenly Master Mansion. I've agreed to visit Dragon Tiger Mountain. I'll see if I can patch together a decent manual, but I can't guarantee it will work."
Liu Jia frowned. "For no reason at all, why are you going to so much trouble to gift Zhao Duanming a huge favor? What, are you trying to win over the Heavenly Water Zhao Clan as an ally for Fallen Mountain within the Great Li court?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head and laughed. "If it really works out, that thunder method manual will be something I accidentally left behind in the Echoing Words Tower. Consider it thanks to Old Immortal Liu for helping look after my senior brother's residence. Old Immortal Liu only needs to do one thing: keep it hidden from the Heavenly Water Zhao Clan. In short, it has nothing to do with me. After that, just teach Duanming in peace."
Liu Jia was dubious. "Is it really that simple? No scheming?"
Chen Ping'an countered: "If you don't trust a chance acquaintance like Chen Ping'an, can Old Immortal Liu at least trust my teacher?"
Liu Jia was speechless for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh. After hesitating, he nodded. Since this kid had brought up the Literary Sage, it was feasible. Confucian scholars valued their lineage and tradition most; this was no joke.
But the old cultivator suddenly came to his senses and scolded with a laugh: "Good kid, you tricked me. Without doing a thing, you get a favor from me for free, right?"
Chen Ping'an deliberately looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"
Liu Jia laughed angrily, pointed at the young man who thought he was a fool, and jabbed a few times. "Even if you have a good relationship with the Heavenly Master Mansion, you're a Confucian disciple after all, not part of the Dragon Tiger Mountain Dao lineage. Even the Grand Heavenly Master himself likely wouldn't dare to casually teach you the true five thunder method. You yourself just said you could only patch something together by reading books. Put your hand on your heart—would such a misleading manual be better than what the Heavenly Water Zhao Clan has found? If you're going to lie, at least pick a good excuse. This one's full of holes, doesn't hold water..."
The old cultivator abruptly stopped his words. He saw that blue-robed sword immortal raise a hand with a smile. Five thunders gathered together, forming in his palm. The Dao intent was lofty, the thunder method imposing.
Liu Jia focused his eyes, looked closely, and lightly nodded. His expression was calm. "Little Master plays a good hand of thunder method. Truly worthy of being a disciple of the Literary Sage, junior brother of the Embroidered Tiger. You've absorbed the strengths of many and forged them into one. Admirable. Fine, it's settled. I thank you in advance. I'll just wait for Little Master to accidentally lose a manual in the residence, and for me to inadvertently find it. But?"
Chen Ping'an laughed. "I'll carefully write down all precautions for cultivating this method and append them in detail at the end of the book. The text will be even more meticulous than the main content. Old Immortal's realm is already there; afterward, guiding Duanming in the Dao transmission will be absolutely no problem."
Liu Jia was a bit embarrassed.
Chen Ping'an said, "I also need to trouble Old Immortal with one more thing: ask the head of the Heavenly Water Zhao Clan for a piece of calligraphy—just write the Zhao family precepts. Of course, it has nothing to do with Chen Ping'an again."
Since his senior brother had called Liu Jia here to guard the alley, Chen Ping'an was sure Liu Jia was someone who could keep his mouth shut. So he wasn't worried about the old cultivator letting it slip to the Heavenly Water Zhao Clan.
Liu Jia breathed a sigh of relief. Asking for a calligraphy piece was a small matter. Even if he carried a basket to their door, it wouldn't be an issue—it was actually giving face to that Zhao gentleman who wrote such beautiful standard script.
The Heavenly Water Zhao Clan, which the Great Li officialdom called "Horse Dung Zhao," had family precepts that were extremely scholarly. Chen Ping'an was especially fond of a few lines: "Atmosphere should be clear and elevated, learning should be deep and far-reaching, conduct should be upright and sincere, demeanor should be gentle and dignified."
In fact, after meeting Zhao Duanming on this trip to the capital, Chen Ping'an had wanted to ask for a handwritten copy of the Zhao family precepts from the clan head. He would frame it later—not to hang in his own study, but to give to Little Warm Tree. But the situation in the capital wasn't clear yet. Chen Ping'an had planned to wait until matters were settled before bringing it up with Zhao Duanming. Now, it was good—he could get it without spending money.
The old cultivator suddenly started. Chen Ping'an turned to look. It was his thunder method aura that had triggered it. Zhao Duanming's mind was immersed in a small world, and a corresponding Qi flow appeared, causing his spiritual energy to leak outward. His person became like a mountain peak, with flying clouds swirling, showing signs of lightning and thunder. Chen Ping'an glanced at Liu Jia. The latter was stunned for a moment, then immediately nodded and said, "Just guide Duanming."
Chen Ping'an stepped forward, arriving beside Zhao Duanming. He lightly stomped his foot, causing the youth sitting cross-legged on the cushion to float up into the air.
Chen Ping'an raised a hand, gently pressed it on the youth's head, helping Zhao Duanming stabilize his mind and Dao heart. The hand that had gathered the five thunders now formed two fingers together and lightly tapped the center of the youth's brow, fixing his mind, instantly letting him enter a state of divine slumber.
Liu Jia stared wide-eyed, utterly baffled. Around the disciple's head, the scene was magnificent and extraordinary, like a wondrous painting of heaven and earth being transformed by the Dao.
The sun and moon hung in the sky together, countless stars revolved. That blue-robed figure, using his mind, plucked a single miniature 'star' sparkling with golden light and brimming with thunder method from the brilliant river of stars. Then, using the hand that had touched the forehead as if it were a Longevity Bridge, he slowly rolled it into the youth's brow. That star, virtualized by Dao magic, revolved in an orderly manner within Zhao Duanming's personal small world, following the route of the Minor Circulation. A few strands of pure Dao intent within the youth, originally scattered and unknown even to him, received a command and instantly arrived, bowing from afar to that ancient star hanging like the Dao of Heaven.
Chen Ping'an lightly patted the youth's forehead, and the youth and his cushion landed back on the ground.
Liu Jia cautiously asked, "Chen Ping'an, are you sure you're not a Flying Ascension grand cultivator?"
Chen Ping'an laughed. "I'm not. My wife is."
Liu Jia held back for a moment but couldn't help asking the biggest question: "Chen Ping'an, how did you manage to trick Ning Yao?"
Chen Ping'an straightened his lapel, flicked his sleeves, and smiled without speaking.
Wasn't it obvious? By appearance, by bearing.
Liu Jia was stunned for a long moment, then teased: "You're a tailor?"
Chen Ping'an smiled, said goodbye, and strode out of the alley.
The youth, who had been kept in the dark, slowly came to his senses. He opened his eyes, stood up, and bounced a few times, feeling exceptionally refreshed.
Finding his master sitting on a cushion drinking, Zhao Duanming went over, crouched, and sniffed the wine aroma to relieve his craving.
Liu Jia laughed. "Before, I didn't understand why the National Teacher wanted me to wait patiently here, saying the salary would be owed first, and someone would come later to pay."
The world's affairs were complicated and winding, hard to see clearly, but Liu Jia thought he was fairly accurate at judging a person's general good or bad.
Zhao Duanming said, "That money from my Brother Chen, Master can really accept it? Master, when it comes to cultivation and teaching the Dao, you're strong of course—otherwise you couldn't have taught a disciple like me. But in matters of human feeling and worldly wisdom, you really need to learn from me."
Liu Jia smiled and said no more. He turned to look into the alley. In the past, National Teacher Cui Chan had been here year after year, day after day, coming and going alone, yet never feeling the slightest loneliness.
His heart was full of worry and peril, as if treading on a tiger's tail or walking on spring ice.
Now there was a junior brother, also walking in the alley.
Bright and clear like the sun and moon, orderly like the stars in their courses.
It seemed that blue-robed sword immortal, young as he was, was no longer a chess piece. Instead, he was seated in the capital, with the nation's mountains and rivers as his chessboard.
He invited his opponent to sit down. Could try and see.
The old cultivator thought again and felt quite pleased with himself.
As a gatekeeper, he had blocked three: Chen Ping'an, Ning Yao, and the Literary Sage—all could be considered stopped. Who in the world could match that?
Liu Jia coughed, handed over a flask of wine, and laughed, "Duanming, drink."
The youth patted his master's hand away and laughed: "Master is joking. What drinking? I'm just a kid, just smelling the wine is too much for me."
It was only a few steps to the inn. Chen Ping'an wasn't in a hurry to find Ning Yao. First, he chatted with the innkeeper, and in the course of conversation, asked about the girl.
The old man huffed: "Chen, don't look at what's in the bowl while eyeing what's in the pot. Put away those crooked ideas. Besides, are you out of your mind? My daughter is pretty, sure, but not better than Miss Ning."
Chen Ping'an probed with a smile: "Boss, what are you thinking? What kind of person am I? You've seen all sorts of traders from north and south, you've long developed a keen eye—can't you tell? I just think she has good aptitude..."
The old innkeeper laughed in exasperation: "Stop, stop right there! Are you going to take her as a disciple and teach her to wander the jianghu? A young lady practicing martial arts? Don't even mention it."
As for those street performers and martial artists, they were even worse—either selling monkey shows and fake plasters, or breaking stones on their chests for a few hard coins. Even if this young man was likely from some established sect, having his own daughter go learn from him would just mean her hands would be calloused in a few days. How could she marry then? The thought was distressing.
Most worrying of all was that silly daughter of his. She had dreamed since childhood of being some kind of female knight-errant, walking on rooftops, fighting for justice. Once, there was a big fight between two gangs from Yichi Lane and Chier Street—it was fierce, bricks shattered. That made her come home glum, and after that, she calmed down a bit, just saying she'd wait until she was older, practice her internal arts first before hitting the jianghu.
Chen Ping'an said, "If I just meet her by chance while walking in the inn, that's not illegal, is it?"
The old man gave a "Huh", lowered his voice, and said, "What exactly are you after? Chen Ping'an, you tell me honestly, or I really will kick you out. I have two sons, but only one daughter. If you coax her away, my wife will kill me."
The old innkeeper really didn't think this young stranger was some bad person.
Besides, the world was peaceful now. The Great Li commoners lived steady lives day by day. Breaking the law? Not even jianghu people or mountain immortals dared.
The old man suddenly asked, "Chen Ping'an, give me the bottom line. Which jianghu sect are you from? Is it famous?"
In Longzhou territory, they only knew of Cloud-Rasping Mountain and the reportedly wealthy Lord Wei, and then the Dragon Spring Sword Sect, full of sword immortals.
Chen Ping'an laughed. "Small sect. If I told you, boss, you wouldn't know it. Not many people, but I can guarantee our family rules are good."
The old man sneered. "If I went out and told people this inn was one of the biggest in the capital, that everyone coming and going was either a grandmaster like Yu Hong or Zhou Haijing, or immortal masters riding clouds, would you believe it?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "I wouldn't."
The old man asked, "You don't really like my daughter, do you? Love at first sight?"
Chen Ping'an smiled wryly. "Really not."
The old man sighed in relief. Good. Then he slammed the table—that was not good. Where was his daughter worse than Ning Yao? The old man waved his hand. "No taste. Get lost."
After Chen Ping'an left, someone from the government office came to check the register. Two unfamiliar faces, but their official badges were correct, so the old innkeeper didn't think much of it.
They flipped to Chen Ping'an and Ning Yao's names. The two exchanged smiles. One of the young officials casually flipped a few more pages and said with a smile, "Shopkeeper Liu, business is booming."
The old man leaned lazily on the counter, not at all intimidated by these government men. His inn had been next to those two streets for two generations, almost fifty years. He had seen all sorts of civil and military officials. Purple and yellow nobles at the center of power were familiar faces; some he could even greet on the road. He was rather proud of that. So now he just smiled. "Business is okay. Getting by."
Ning Yao hadn't intentionally immersed herself in cultivation to nurture her sword intent; that would be like a great Dao struggle between two worlds.
She had just sat by the table all night. At dawn, she opened her eyes, unconsciously reached out her fingers, and gently twisted the corner of one sleeve.
When a soft knock came at the door, Ning Yao said, "It's not locked."
Chen Ping'an pushed the door open. Ning Yao glanced at that blue robe with a jade hairpin and said nothing.
Chen Ping'an took a few collections of literati notes from his sleeve. "We'll be staying in the capital a few more days. Afraid you might get bored, I picked out a few books. Feel free to flip through them."
Ning Yao looked at the books on the table, picked one up, and asked, "No martial arts novels or detective stories?"
Chen Ping'an asked, "You want that kind?"
Ning Yao countered, "Otherwise, should I read those nonsense stories about spirits, romance, or strange tales?"
Chen Ping'an had nothing to say.
Those novels would often feature a hidden master pouring sixty years of internal energy into a junior. That was nonsense too.
But whatever his wife said was right.
Chen Ping'an first mentioned that the Ritual Sage had invited him to the Confucian Temple. Ning Yao nodded—no problem. Then Chen Ping'an immediately turned to find books. But it seemed the bookstore didn't have those kinds.
He remembered that back when his first disciple was still Little Black Charcoal, she would pester Old Wei and Little Bai every day in private, asking each to give her a few decades of cultivation. Later, Old Cook reported it, and Pei Qian gave her a whole bunch of knuckle raps until she stopped bothering Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang.
The old innkeeper saw Chen Ping'an coming and going and teased, "Can't judge a book by its cover. Young as you are, you're pretty fast."
Chen Ping'an pretended not to hear. "Boss, are there any bookstores nearby?"
The old man nodded. "Not far, half a street of bookshops. But so close to Yichi Lane and Chier Street, you can imagine the price isn't cheap. Lots of rare editions and fine copies. What, you jianghu people now need to spout Confucian sayings before fighting?"
The old man roughly pointed the way. Chen Ping'an thanked him and smiled. "Wife wants to read, so I'll go look."
Chen Ping'an treated it as a stroll. He found that street, indeed lined with bookstores. After spending seven or eight taels of silver, he picked a few books and tucked them into his sleeve. Then he changed his mind and took a detour, about three li away, threading through streets and alleys. Finally, he arrived at a fairy inn hidden at the end of a deep alley. The front was small, with no immortal fanfare. Ordinary mortal passersby wouldn't even give it a glance. If they hit this dead end, they'd just turn around.
Chen Ping'an knew that Song Xu and the others had left the city last night for a distant journey. Their departure had started here, and they had also returned here. Very likely, this was their cultivation grounds.
Just as Chen Ping'an was about to knock, he frowned slightly. His form instantly shot back, landing ten-odd zhang away. A Golden Core female ghost cultivator materialized, diving out from the gate painted with door gods. Chen Ping'an glanced—it was the female ghost accompanying that young Nascent Soul sword cultivator. Likely same as Song Xu and Ge Ling, but from a different faction.
Was she trying to spar in Dao magic? Ask for a sword duel? A fist duel?
But seeing her spin, colorful dress fluttering, claws outstretched, there seemed to be no technique. And that look in her eyes, like she wanted to eat him, her face full of drooling—what was that about?
Chen Ping'an kept his hands in his sleeves, just sidestepped to dodge her windborne form. The female ghost, like a ribbon of color, spun half a circle and spread her arms to embrace that blue robe.
Are you not going to stop?
Chen Ping'an didn't even turn his head. He just raised an elbow and smashed it backward right into the female ghost's face.
He smashed her dizzy, and she fell to the ground. Sitting up, she pulled a kerchief from her sleeve, dabbed her eyes, and looked on the verge of tears.
Chen Ping'an turned his head, frowned. "What's going on?"
The female ghost's eyes sparkled. She didn't speak, just suddenly floated toward Chen Ping'an again—no killing intent, no hostility, just seemed intent on pestering.
Chen Ping'an kept his hands in his sleeves and raised a foot to kick her in the forehead. She slammed into the wall.
Not right.
It was some strange illusion that blocked the heart-mind. In short, seeing was deceiving.
Chen Ping'an narrowed his eyes. He reached out a hand from his sleeve, fingers hooked like claws, grabbed the female ghost's head, and slammed her to the ground. He twisted his toe slightly, spreading martial artist's Qi all over the road to prevent her escape via earth. Then he kicked her in the heart with his toe. With a loud bang, the pitiful female ghost's colorful form was wiped across the entire alley like a rag. Then her body and colorful dress suddenly expanded and halted near the alley mouth, like a huge painted portrait of a lady hanging on the wall.
Chen Ping'an warned, "That's enough."
In an instant, the walls on both sides of the alley turned dark. Countless female ghost heads popped out. But they weren't ferocious; instead, they smiled like flowers, like a lovesick woman finally seeing her lover return home.
Chen Ping'an was about to go all out, but he sighed for no reason. "Last warning."
Inside the inn, Yuan Huajing walked into the corridor and said solemnly, "Gai Yan, stop."
The female ghost named Gai Yan immediately withdrew her technique, appearing in the alley, her figure graceful. She curtsied. "Your servant Gai Yan greets Master Chen."
Chen Ping'an explained, "I'm here to see someone."
Gai Yan smiled sweetly. "Seeing someone is fine. This inn is mine. You can see anyone. Let me lead the way for Master Chen."
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "No need."
The woman looked aggrieved, timidly said, "The inn is my territory. Whether I open for business and earn spirit money is entirely up to my mood. Master Chen is a refined man—you wouldn't break in, would you?"
If Song Xu and his six were all extraordinary people, but still within normal bounds in appearance and temperament, then the sword cultivator known by the alias "Yelang," Yuan Huajing, and his four subordinates—none were easy to deal with. Besides this female ghost named Gai Yan, there was a young cavalryman from a loose cultivator background named Ku Shou, a Five Phases Qi refiner from the Yin-Yang school, and finally a wild cultivator from mountain and marsh spirits—young in appearance, stern face, murderous aura. He had given himself the name Gou Cun. His temper was bad, and he had a strange wish: to become the National Teacher of a small country, even a vassal of a vassal of Great Li would do—as long as it was small.
Chen Ping'an took one step, shrinking the earth and mountains, directly breaking through the inn's insignificant restriction formations. He looked around, through the mist and barriers, he saw a residence. With two fingers, he parted the door, entered, and descended. He smiled. "It was crowded last night, so it wasn't convenient to say much."
The youth Gou Cun had long since walked out of the house's hidden cultivation ground. Seeing this blue-robed figure before him, the youth first clasped his fists, then bowed—both seemed wrong. Finally, he had to scratch his head and called out, "Master Chen," then started grinning foolishly.
Back then, in Shihao Country, there was a dog-meat shop where a young boy was mistaken for a mute. He met a man in a blue cotton coat who took him to a meal, talked a lot, and gave him a possibility.
Finally, he lent the boy a Lesser Summer coin.
"My sweet enemy!"
In the alley, Gai Yan wasn't angry. She just stomped her foot coquettishly and followed behind.
Arriving at this courtyard, she was shocked. Did Gou Cun know Chen Ping'an? She had never heard of this.
Han Zhoujin also came to the courtyard gate, with Yu Yu tagging along.
The youth smiled brilliantly. "Master Chen, today I'm called Gou Cun."
Chen Ping'an nodded with a smile. "Good name."
Gou Cun.
Never forget your roots. Survive.
Chen Ping'an reached out his hand.
The youth quickly pulled a Lesser Summer coin from his sleeve—he always kept one—and handed it over, apologetic: "Master Chen, back then, I spent that Lesser Summer coin."
Chen Ping'an said, "Borrowing money and paying it back—shouldn't there be some interest?"
The youth grinned, knowing Master Chen was joking.
Chen Ping'an put away the Lesser Summer coin, twisted his wrist, and produced a green bamboo staff—the kind used by refined scholars for mountain hikes. "For you."
On the staff were engraved two characters: "Zhi Yuan"—Reach Far.
The youth cradled the staff, not good with words, just silently bowed deeply to Master Chen in thanks.
The next moment.
Before the youth could raise his head, he instantly sensed danger.
In fact, not only Gou Cun, but also Gai Yan in the courtyard, Han Zhoujin and Yu Yu at the gate, and Song Xu and the others gathered in a nearby courtyard—all found themselves in a vast mist.
Array master Han Zhoujin had already summoned that ancient immortal palace relic. Then, in all of heaven and earth, there was only a single sword light, splitting heaven and earth, forcibly breaking the mountain-and-water restrictions of an ancient Tongbai Blessed Land. Chen Ping'an, with one hand pulling Gai Yan's hair bun and the other grasping Gou Cun's neck, suppressed Gai Yan's spiritual energy with his fist intent, nearly stopping it entirely. At the slightest disturbance, the vital mansion of her five elements would feel a wrenching pain. As for Gou Cun, he had already fainted. The worst part was that both Gai Yan's and Gou Cun's brows had been lightly pierced by flying swords, and sword qi had seeped into their internal small worlds.
That blue-robed sword immortal, who had attacked without warning, looked around, surveyed the Dao-aura of this ancient immortal's dojo, then stared at Han Zhoujin and smiled. "I'm a bit surprised. How did you guys manage to kill a Jade Realm from the demon army back then? A surprise decapitation? No way. They were basically handing you the kills, right?"
Chen Ping'an continued, "Or is it that when the eleven of you aren't all together, you're just a heap of loose sand? No matter. All of you come in. Besides, in all the world, there's never a case where you can just plan to kill others steadily. One day, the debt must be paid. Now is the time."
That Yin-Yang practitioner Qi refiner was about to form a Dao seal to execute a mysterious lifebound divine ability, at the cost of dropping one realm, to reverse the River of Time slightly, letting the eleven return to 'before,' to be prepared.
But a sword light descended straight down. Yuan Huajing appeared to guard Sui Lin, sacrificing his lifebound flying sword to cut that sword light. Unexpectedly, around that Five Phases Qi refiner, countless sword lights rose, shredding the delicate thread of flowing time.
Chen Ping'an threw down Gou Cun and Gai Yan. He stepped forward to Daoist Ge Ling. This Daoist actually chose to directly detonate his Golden Core and Nascent Soul—for any ordinary Earth Immortal cultivator, that would mean death and loss of Dao.
Chen Ping'an's fist intent was like a waterfall. Unharmed, he casually walked out of this battlefield where the mountain-water scene was slightly disturbed. He reached out to block military cultivator Yu Yu's close punch, gently pulled him forward, then turned and struck with a heart-piercing elbow. Yu Yu vomited blood and flew backward dozens of zhang. His form flickered—he was about to stomp down—but from the corner of his eye, he saw that Yu Yu was actually far away elsewhere. Interesting. Within his own small world of "Caged Sparrow," what he saw was still interfered with. It seemed that earlier in the alley, that female ghost, the legendary mountain 'painter and eyebrow drawer,' had held back quite a bit.
So, in the next moment, what the eleven saw was heaven and earth tilted, twisted, and inverted to varying degrees.
Like a world cut into countless realms by its master.
When the female ghost Gai Yan tried to move, her vision filled with sword light. In an instant, dozens of long swords pierced her body and her colorful dress.
Gou Cun, who should have been sleeping deeply, suddenly opened his eyes, only to be stomped on the chest by Chen Ping'an, passing out again. At the same time, Chen Ping'an glanced sideways at the young novice monk, smiled as if saying, "So it was you." The blue robe seemed to step through a door, stepping through emptiness, appearing behind the young novice. An arm wrapped around the little monk's neck, a hand under his chin. But Chen Ping'an hesitated, then withdrew his hand, patted the little monk's head, and laughed. "Be more careful next time."
With two fingers together, he drew a circle. Around the little monk, a golden thunder pool appeared.
Chen Ping'an changed battlefield, flicked his sleeve. Talismans like two hanging rivers surrounded the Five Phases Qi refiner.
Han Zhoujin was shocked. She didn't know when, but she had lost her Qi connection to that immortal palace relic.
Chen Ping'an looked around. He casually raised a hand, swatting away Yuan Huajing and Song Xu's flying swords. "I know you have many backup plans, but it's useless. You won't get a chance to use them. You've already lost."
He flicked a finger, shooting a golden body shard toward the Yin-Yang Qi refiner. "Consider it compensation. Everyone go back."
For a moment, time reversed. The eleven returned to their positions. But with the little novice monk's Buddhist divine ability protecting them, everyone retained the memory. Sui Lin collapsed to the ground, face pale, but the golden body shard in his hand was enough to make up for his lost cultivation and more.
Half the cultivators were unconvinced, the rest still shuddering.
That blue-robed sword immortal, who had struck so ruthlessly, seemed uniquely unaffected by the River of Time. He was the first to return to the inn, standing in the corridor with hands in sleeves. He looked at the still-bowed youth Gou Cun and smiled. "Scared?"
The youth was speechless, still holding the mountain staff, then straightened up, scratched his head, and shook his head. "Master Chen, I've learned something."
Chen Ping'an said softly, "Mountain cultivation is treacherous. The higher you climb, the stronger the wind. Be more careful from now on."
Then he laughed. "Of course, I don't mean you always have to be careful of me ambushing you. Today's attack was an exception."
Chen Ping'an began to review the battle for the eleven, giving some advice. Whether they listened or not was up to them.
If they weren't carefully selected and nurtured with massive resources by his senior brother, Chen Ping'an wouldn't have bothered to act today. That big piece of ancient deity's golden body shard wasn't cheap.
Finally, Chen Ping'an communicated via heart voice: "Gou Cun, now when you see people eating dog meat, what do you do?"
Gou Cun was silent for a moment, then raised his head and told Master Chen honestly: "It still hurts in my heart. So, as Master Chen said, I will definitely become that small country's National Teacher and decree that within its borders, no one is allowed to eat dog meat."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Take it slow."
Chen Ping'an was about to leave this fairy inn when that female ghost actually dared to step closer, blinking her big eyes. "Master Chen, leaving already? Let me see you off?"
Chen Ping'an laughed in exasperation. "Annoying or not? Tell me, what are you after?"
She, for the first time, had a slightly shy expression. "Learning from Han Zhoujin. Fell for looks. Couldn't control myself."
Han Zhoujin's face turned crimson. "Gai Yan, watch your mouth!"
Chen Ping'an was speechless. He vanished in a flash.
—
Fire God Temple.
Under the flower awning, Aunt Feng looked askance. Uninvited, not even knocking—what kind of people were these?
The old coachman cut straight to the point: "Forced by circumstances, I need to answer three questions from Chen Ping'an. What do you think the kid will ask, so I can prepare? Don't shirk this. If you hadn't stirred things up, I wouldn't have taken those two extra sword strikes."
Aunt Feng smiled. "Chen Ping'an will definitely ask who you are first."
The old coachman said, "And?"
Aunt Feng continued, "Whether you were involved in the breaking of his lifebound porcelain."
The old coachman nodded. "Easy answer. Not a damn thing."
Aunt Feng clicked her tongue. "Lying through your teeth? You had already placed your bet on the Ma family of Apricot Flower Lane."
The old coachman didn't hide it. "I was most optimistic about Ma Kuxuan. Nothing to hide. But what the Ma couple did has nothing to do with me. I neither instructed them nor helped erase traces afterward."
Aunt Feng thought for a moment. "As for the third question, the possible content is extensive. Hard to guess."
"Such as?"
"For example, regarding the refinement of the lifebound porcelain in Li Zhu Cave Heaven—who was the mastermind? Do you want to answer? How will you answer?"
The old coachman took out a small porcelain bottle, opened it. Purple qi swirled. He sniffed gently, and immediately golden light suffused his body, circulating to mend his wounds.
A deity's body, when cut by a sword cultivator, had one advantage: no sword qi remained. The lingering sword intent would be washed away by the River of Time. As long as the golden body didn't shatter on the spot, even if the wounds were severe and cracks many, they could be mended, the golden body repaired.
The old coachman was silent a moment, then said somewhat helplessly, "I agreed with Ning Yao: for any question I'm unwilling to answer, Chen Ping'an can switch to another."
Aunt Feng smiled. "Just that?"
The old coachman said gloomily, "That woman gave a condition: three strikes."
The old coachman suddenly looked up. You old hag, don't screw me over again.
Aunt Feng teased, "If it comes to it, better sacrifice a friend than yourself. Just tell Chen Ping'an everything about that person's origins."
The old coachman shook his head. "Among the four great nuisances on the mountain, better to offend anyone than a fortune teller."
The other two behind-the-scenes figures: one was a Dragon Nurturer of the Dragon-Coaxing lineage. The other came from the Yin-Yang School's Central Plains Lu Clan. One in the open, one in the dark. The one in the open was that Capital city Qi refiner beaten to death by Song Changjing's wild fists. The one in the dark had been responsible for selecting the sites of Great Li's old Five Sacred Mountains.
These old immortals, living as guests in Li Zhu Cave Heaven, each had their own goals. The Dragon Nurturer's old master had placed his bet on the Great Li Song Clan, and incidentally suppressed the Qi of the Fortune Avenue Lu Clan.
As for this Aunt Feng, besides protecting the Dao, she was just forming karmic connections wherever convenient. For example, she brought Cao Hang and Yuan Xie out of Li Zhu Cave Heaven, sending this pair of future literary and martial gems to the Great Li court, leading to that restoration, ensuring the Great Li Song clan's dynastic line wasn't cut off, easily swallowed by the former suzerain Lu Dynasty.
Compared to Aunt Feng and the old coachman, that Yin-Yang cultivator from the Central Plains Lu Clan stayed behind the scenes, weaving threads all day, acting most furtively, yet always keeping within the rules.
The old coachman said for no reason, "Within sixty years, first come, first served. Ma Kuxuan still has a chance."
This referred to the ethereal yet omnipresent matter of Hao Ran Qi fortune. Mountains and rivers of several continents shattered. Many grand cultivators from the two worlds had fallen, each originally bearing great Qi fortune, but all returned to heaven and earth. This was like an invisible crossing. Earlier, the sword immortal embryos of the Rampart of Swords and the Hundred Swordsmen of Tuo Yue Mountain all rose in response to this impending war. Later, sword immortals like Xu Xie, and from White Emperor City, Gu Can and others, emerged one after another, rising rapidly. Thus, the last hundred years was a once-in-ten-thousand-year grand age for cultivators. Miss it, and it's gone.
Unless.
That Zhou Mi, who had already ascended to the Sea of Literature, could return to the mortal world and war would arise again.
The old coachman glanced at the sky and sighed. "I have to say, this Zhou Mi is truly remarkable."
Aunt Feng smiled. "Not forcing one's Qi, not seizing—that itself is the method of a cultivator's preservation and storage."
The old coachman frowned. "Merit and virtue are hard to come by. This Chen Ping'an has something wrong with his head."
Aunt Feng shook her head, unwilling to say more about this.
What was called human nature, in the final analysis, was that people liked to fight with themselves.
As a deity, one was born with the ability to categorize everything without a hair's difference: joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, each subdivided into hundreds or thousands of 'realms,' all in perfect order.
On this matter, the Three Teachings sages all had many solutions. For example, Buddhism and Daoism both extolled the 'method of guarding the one.' Closer to home, just consider that old scholar who had restored his Confucian Temple status—he had already seen through the heavenly secrets in the sage books. For instance, where there are doubts about things seen, if the mind is unsettled, then external things are unclear. Walking under the bright moon, seeing your own shadow, you mistake it for a crouching ghost... The mind is the ruler of the form, and the master of the spirit. Therefore, it must be self-restrained, self-commanded, self-possessed, self-moved, self-stopped... This was the essence of the old scholar's 'Dispelling Obscurity' chapter.
So earlier at the inn, the old scholar had casually mentioned his 'Dispelling Obscurity' chapter, seemingly without intent.
At that time, Aunt Feng had discreetly withdrawn a wisp of breeze, no longer eavesdropping on their conversation.
As for the so-called 'wind-borne words' in the world—it wasn't that she intentionally listened; it was simply her lifebound divine ability.
—
Chen Ping'an returned the same way. Near the inn, he happened to see the girl going out. As soon as she saw him, she turned around and ran back inside, behind the counter, hiding beside her father. Then she pretended to work an abacus.
Chen Ping'an stepped over the threshold, eyes straight ahead.
He suddenly stopped, turned, and walked out of the inn, heading toward the alley residence.
The Great Li Empress Dowager had finally come.
At the counter, the girl whispered, "Dad, did I wrong him?"
The old innkeeper said gravely, "No. This kid is from the jianghu, full of tricks. He's playing hard to get."
Chen Ping'an was rather helpless.
Walking slowly on the street, with nothing else to do, Chen Ping'an began to casually improvise a few poetic lines.
Ancient Bamboo Horse Strikes the Skirt Waist, Reining Horse Listens to Flower-Selling Cry, Lotus Admiration Touches Fish, Window Gauze Lament on Jade Mat, Jade Dew Late Good Things Near, Crossing the River Cloud Sends Off the Water Boat, Magpie Bridge Meeting Views the Midheaven, Mountain Ghost Song Sings for Ten Thousand Springs.