Chapter 836: Fire God Seeking Fire
Chen Ping'an said he needed to go out, to visit the Fire God Temple to find that Aunt Feng, to ask her to help summon someone, to find the old coachman and ask three questions. He might also need to go to the Ministry of Revenue to see a friend. Ning Yao nodded, took out one of those novels about martial arts grudges, picked one out, flipped to the folded page, and she could really read it with great interest. Chen Ping'an glanced at the content, sweeping his eyes over it. At the end of the page, the protagonist was being chased by enemies on a stormy night, took refuge in a mountain temple by mistake, met a person sitting upright in the main hall, wearing a green robe with a beautiful beard, phoenix eyes, reading the Spring and Autumn Annals under a lamp... Chen Ping'an smiled and said, "Alright, I'll bet there's another fortuitous encounter coming. If even one of those pursuers can walk out of that temple intact, I'll lose." Ning Yao glanced sideways at Chen Ping'an and only rewarded him with two words: "Shut up."
Chen Ping'an went to the inn counter, but even the old innkeeper, a native-born elder of the Great Li capital, couldn't give the exact location of that Fire God Temple, only a general direction. The old innkeeper found it strange. Chen Ping'an, an outsider from the martial world, came to the capital and instead of visiting the more famous Daoist temples and Buddhist monasteries, specifically wanted to find a Fire God Temple. Within the Great Li capital, the Song Clan Ancestral Temple, the Confucian Temple honoring sages, and the Imperial Temple honoring monarchs of past dynasties were the three recognized major temples, though commoners couldn't enter. But besides those, even the temple fairs at the City God Temple and the Earth God Temple were extremely lively.
Chen Ping'an found the capital's only Fire God Temple. The temple keeper, an old woman, was a mortal. She was elderly, with white hair, frail and aged, but she recognized the "Trouble-Free Tablet" issued by the Ministry of Justice to enshrined mountain immortals. Hearing that he was looking for Aunt Feng, she followed the rules, recorded his name in the register, and let him in. When writing the visitor's name, the old woman smiled and said, "Immortal Master has a very good name." Chen Ping'an smiled and said, "All given by my parents." The old woman nodded, told the young man some taboos and rules inside the Fire God Temple, then pointed the way, saying Aunt Feng was at that flower pavilion.
Chen Ping'an followed the path and saw that Aunt Feng. She sat lazily and casually on a stone stool in the flower pavilion, drinking wine early in the morning, appearing slightly tipsy as if all year round. Aside from still tying up her black hair with that colored rope knot, she was wearing a new outfit again today—a pink cloud-red ribbon lotus-thread skirt. Words describing goddesses in strange tales and supernatural stories fit her perfectly: flowing cloud posture, moonlight spirit. Seeing Chen Ping'an, Aunt Feng merely raised the wine jug in her hand as a greeting. She straightened her waist slightly, gathering up a bit of the charm at the corners of her brows and eyes. For a woman too beautiful, too naturally enchanting, it was troublesome, especially since Chen Ping'an had such a jealous wife at home.
Chen Ping'an looked at this Aunt Feng and was momentarily dazed, because it reminded him of the backyard of the Yang Family Pharmacy, where an old man used to smoke a long-stemmed pipe all year round.
Chen Ping'an didn't sit on the steps like Aunt Feng but sat on a stone stool beside the flower pavilion. Aunt Feng smiled and asked, "Want some wine? The purest, most authentic Hundred Flowers Brew. Each jar is quite aged. Those Flower Goddesses are still women after all, meticulous, sealed and stored very well, no evaporation. That trip of mine to the blessed land couldn't be for nothing—I plundered plenty."
Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded. Aunt Feng tossed him a jar of Hundred Flowers Brew. Chen Ping'an caught it, seemed to remember something, twisted his wrist, and took out two flasks of Green God Mountain wine from his own shop. He tossed one flask to Aunt Feng as a return gift, explaining, "Aunt Feng, give it a try. I partnered with someone to open a small wine shop. Sales are decent."
Aunt Feng took the flask, put it to her ear, shook it, and smiled oddly. This kind of wine—both in age and flavor—how could he have the face to offer it as a gift?
Chen Ping'an smiled and said, "Of course it can't compare to Aunt Feng's Hundred Flowers Brew, but it wins on affordability. People choose wine, but wine doesn't choose people."
Aunt Feng tossed another jar of wine to Chen Ping'an, teasing, "If you want to keep that jar of Hundred Flowers Brew, just say so. What's so embarrassing about asking me for another jar? You're really obsessed with money."
Chen Ping'an didn't mind. Since this Aunt Feng was Mr. Qi's friend, she was his elder. Being lectured by an elder a few times—whether reasonable or not—just listen.
Chen Ping'an took out a wine bowl, removed the red paper and clay seal from the jar, and poured a bowl of wine. The red paper and sealing clay were unusual, especially the latter, with a peculiar earthy nature. Chen Ping'an pinched a bit of clay between two fingers and gently rubbed it. Actually, mortals only knew the saying "gold and stone endure," but didn't know that soil also has an age. Chen Ping'an asked curiously, "Aunt Feng, is this clay ten-thousand-year soil from the Hundred Flowers Blessed Land? Such precious wine, aged so long, was it maybe presented as tribute to someone in the early years?"
Aunt Feng nodded, "Good eyesight. You see everything as money. And you guessed right. In the early years, the Hundred Flowers Brew sealed with ten-thousand-year soil was divided into three portions every hundred years, tributed to three powers. Besides the Six Palaces of Fengdu Ghost Capital, there was also the Green Lord of Fangzhu Mountain, who administered the earthly caves and blessed lands and all earthly immortal registers. But it wasn't the old man in the backyard of the Yang Family Pharmacy. And this gentleman had no connection to the old Heavenly Court. Still, he was already remarkable. In the early years, the Fangzhu Mountain governed by the Green Lord was originally a department of destiny higher than the Five Sacred Mountains of Haoran, responsible for removing death registers and recording life names. Eventually, it was recorded in the upper-grade Green Register and Purple Chapter's 'Immortality Register' or the middle-grade Yellow register and White Slips' 'Longevity Register.' On Fangzhu Mountain, 'please engrave immortal names,' the Green Lord signed like a document. In short, there was a very complex set of rules, very much like later officialdom... Forget it, talking about this is too dull. It's all old history that's been turned over. No use saying more. Anyway, if you trace it back to the source, these were some of the early attempts by Ritual Saint to establish rites—whether taking detours, detours, or walking the great path, in short, all relatively... strenuous. Anyway, if you're really interested in these old stories, you can ask your teacher. The old scholar has read many miscellaneous books."
Chen Ping'an asked tentatively, "There's a sect in Aiai Prefecture called Jiudu Mountain. Its patriarch hall has a secret direct lineage identity called 'Weaving Compiler,' also known as 'Preservation Registrar,' reputed to be listed in the Green Register. Does this have a heritage connection to Fangzhu Mountain?"
Among the Summer Resort's Hidden Official lineage of foreign sword cultivators, Deng Liang was the peak master of Suran Peak of Jiudu Mountain in Aiai Prefecture. Now he had become the chief patron of the Flying Rise City patriarch hall.
Aunt Feng sneered, "Just basking in a bit of reflected glory. Little Jiudu Mountain can't even compare to that Fangzhu Mountain. But the founder of Jiudu Mountain, by chance, obtained a part of the broken mountain and barely inherited some Dao rhythm and immortal vein."
As for the three powers, Aunt Feng seemed to have omitted one. Chen Ping'an didn't press further. If Aunt Feng didn't mention it, there must be some unknown taboo involved.
And in these words, Aunt Feng's respect for Ritual Saint was evidently sincere.
Chen Ping'an hesitated, then asked again, "May I ask Aunt Feng about that Mr. Three Mountains and Nine Marquises?"
Aunt Feng shook her head. Chen Ping'an didn't ask more. He only drank one bowl of Hundred Flowers Brew and found that it benefited his soul unexpectedly more than anticipated, beyond expectations. Within his personal lesser heaven and earth, those reserve-king mountain residences and many plain-painted mountains and rivers that were like unopened territories received moisture like a long drought meeting rain—strands gathered like a curtain of rain, spiritual energy falling like rain. He was a genuine Jade Pure Realm cultivator. If it were an earth immortal, wouldn't there be a downpour of spiritual energy? As for cultivators below the fifth realm, a bowl of this wine would probably directly "intoxicate" them with abundant spiritual energy. So Chen Ping'an decided not to drink more. Save the rest. His own cultivation could proceed step by step. Such external immortal objects that help accumulate spiritual energy were certainly useful, but actually not very meaningful anymore. He would give the two jars to Zhang Jiazhen and Jiang Qu later. Especially to Zhang Jiazhen, the little accountant who assisted Wei Wenlong—that former youth from the Sword Qi Great Wall, now with white hair because he couldn't cultivate.
Right in front of Aunt Feng, he directly put away the wine jar and bowl, even picking up the yellow clay crumbs on the table. Then Chen Ping'an said, "If you would, Aunt Feng, please inform the coachman and ask him to come here for a talk."
Aunt Feng smiled, "He's here."
The old man who had driven the carriage for Dong Hu and then the Empress Dowager landed heavily outside the flower pavilion. Aunt Feng rolled her eyes seductively and waved away the dust.
The old coachman crossed his arms, standing in place, not even glancing at Chen Ping'an. This little bastard, just relying on having a flying ascent realm sword cultivator as his Dao partner—look how cocky he was.
The old man said bluntly, "If you have something to say, say it quickly."
Chen Ping'an also didn't bother arguing with this old man about his conversational skills. Did he think he was Gu Qingrong or Liu Chicheng? He just got straight to the point: "Is the Great Li Empress Dowager Lu Jiang, under the alias Southern Hairpin, from the Central Earth Yin-Yang School's Lu clan?"
Aunt Feng looked somewhat surprised and took a sip of wine. How did Chen Ping'an know this inside story? This was a very deeply hidden thread. The late Great Li Emperor had been ensnared by it, almost becoming a puppet. Southern Hairpin, or Lu Jiang, had been demoted to the Eternal Spring Palace by the late emperor for a reason. Southern Hairpin was indeed originally from Yuzhang Commandery's Southern Hairpin, but relying on that Spiritual Resonance Pearl, she had recalled memories from several previous lifetimes. Otherwise, given the late emperor's ruthless nature, even considering their marital affection, Lu Jiang would never have survived. In history books, it would just be recorded as the Great Li Empress dying of illness.
The old coachman said directly, "Don't know. Ask another."
Aunt Feng nodded slightly. The old coachman really didn't know about this—all brawn and no brains.
The old man roared angrily, "Old Lady Feng, what are you exchanging glances with him for? We're family! Don't favor outsiders too much!"
Chen Ping'an continued, "Regarding the forging of the Destiny Porcelain in the Pear Blossom Cave Heaven, who was the first to teach the secret method?"
The old coachman hesitated, then said gloomily, "It was done jointly by Old Man Yang and Mr. Three Mountains and Nine Marquises."
Chen Ping'an took a deep breath and slowly asked, "Master Yao of the Dragon Kiln—is he from the Buddhist school?"
The old coachman glanced at Aunt Feng, as if complaining that none of the questions she had helped him prepare had hit the mark, wasting all his prepared drafts.
Aunt Feng pretended not to see, just drinking wine and watching the excitement.
The old coachman nodded.
Chen Ping'an was silent.
When he was young, he had kowtowed repeatedly to the three Bodhisattva statues in the Immortal Grave. A child, climbing mountains and crossing waters, wearing out one pair after another of the crude straw sandals he had woven himself. At that time, he only felt that Bodhisattvas were easy to find, but mountain herbs were hard to find.
Master Yao. Medicine Buddha.
Eastern Treasured Vase Continent. The Lord of the Eastern Pure Lapis Lazuli World.
Aunt Feng looked up and took a sip of wine, then spoke to Chen Ping'an with her mind: "Back then, I advised Qi Jingchun that a gentleman not saving himself was correct. Leaving would have been fine too. Just say Old Man Yao would absolutely not let things go. Otherwise, there was no need for him to make this trip to Pear Blossom Cave Heaven. He would definitely have returned from the Western Buddhist Land to Haoran. But Qi Jingchun still didn't agree. In the end, he didn't give a reason either."
Probably, that archway with the plaque left by a Confucian sage was Qi Jingchun's silent answer: "I will not yield."
Chen Ping'an looked down at his cloth shoes, then raised his head and asked the last question, "Who was I in my past life?"
The old coachman shook his head, "Don't know. Ask another."
Aunt Feng smiled, "Forget it. Let me answer for you. Chen Ping'an, don't overthink it. You are nobody. At least certainly, in your past life, you weren't some great mountain-peak cultivator or some eminent Buddhist or Daoist figure. Because I was curious back then too, so I went to the Yang Family Pharmacy. That old man once gave a definite answer: your past life, and probably even further back, was nothing extraordinary. So you and your parents—your family of three—were all very ordinary, with no major Dao foundations worth mentioning. At the time, Old Man Yang took the initiative to say one more thing: that you were just a muddy-legged fellow with a tough fate."
Chen Ping'an's brow relaxed a bit. He sighed in relief. Then there were truly no more worries.
The old coachman didn't want to stay long. Just one more look at that blue-robed man was vexing enough.
Chen Ping'an suddenly narrowed his eyes and said in a deep voice, "Aunt Feng being willing to make the introduction, acting as our intermediary, already says a lot. So I'll give you one last warning: don't provoke me in the future."
Aunt Feng smiled knowingly. Listen, that's what a smart person says. Old coachman, you should learn from this.
The old coachman was conflicted. He wanted to drop a harsh word, but thinking about Ning Yao still in the capital, he held back. But he couldn't help it—he turned his head and spat on the ground. Seeing Chen Ping'an raise an eyebrow and Aunt Feng also looking displeased, the old coachman rubbed it with his toe, as if wiping it clean. Then he leaped up, his figure instantly vanishing without a trace.
Aunt Feng looked at the young man, who seemed slightly tired. Understandable.
Then she saw Chen Ping'an take out the wine bowl again, pour a bowl of Green God Mountain wine, swirl it, and start drinking alone. He was not old, but his mind-cultivation was impressive. Not only composed, but thoroughly clear.
Chen Ping'an raised the wine bowl and smiled, "Aunt Feng, thank you."
Aunt Feng raised her wine jug, and they each drank.
Chen Ping'an asked a question that had puzzled him for years, though it wasn't a big deal—pure curiosity: "Aunt Feng, do you know who carved the inscription behind a certain statue, like a little poem? Was it Li Liu or Ma Kuxuan?"
Li Liu was once the common master of the jianghu, one of the five supremes of ancient spirits. Even the Green Water Pit was one of her summer retreats, and her true divine duty lay in that River of Time. All the remains of ancient spirits turned into heavenly stars, either their golden bodies dissolving or merging into time, actually all sleeping and resting in that River of Time.
Chen Ping'an couldn't recognize the handwriting, but Li Liu and Ma Kuxuan were the most likely.
Aunt Feng shook her head and smiled, "Didn't pay attention. Not curious."
Chen Ping'an asked, "Earlier, Aunt Feng said someone wanted to see me. Was it Shopkeeper Yang from the hometown pharmacy? Or... Marshal Su Gaoshan?"
The former—he heard from Liu Xianyang. Shopkeeper Yang had died of illness without lingering illness in his early years. After death, he served as a night patrol god at the capital's City God Temple, entering the landscape officialdom, able to continue protecting his family descendants with his yin virtue. As for Su Gaoshan, it was Chen Ping'an's guess. After death, becoming a battlefield spirit was highly likely. The Great Li helped arrange a retreat, such as serving as a spirit in the capital's Martial Temple. Su Gaoshan, in turn, maintaining the nation's martial fortune—all that was logical.
Moreover, Su Gaoshan came from a humble family. Relying entirely on military merits, he served as a patrol marshal in life, which was already the pinnacle of military officialdom. But ultimately, he wasn't from a powerful clan. Once the general died, there was no backbone, and it was easy for the situation to cool and the household to become desolate.
Aunt Feng smiled, "It was Shopkeeper Yang. After Su Gaoshan died, his final stretch of landscape journey was to wander the world at night in ghost form, personally escorting his ghost soldiers north back to their hometowns. After Su Gaoshan bid farewell to his last comrade, his soul dissipated. The Great Li court naturally wanted to retain him, but Su Gaoshan himself refused, only saying that children have their own fortunes."
Upon hearing this, Chen Ping'an was silent for a long time. He just drank some wine gloomily, silently making up his mind to pay more attention to the Su family in the future, at least secretly protecting them for a hundred years.
Aunt Feng laughed, twirling her finger to gather a wisp of cool wind, "Shopkeeper Yang couldn't come. He asked me to pass on a message: when you return to your hometown, remember to go to the backyard of his pharmacy."
Chen Ping'an nodded, "Please thank Shopkeeper Yang for me, Aunt Feng."
After finishing a jug of wine, Chen Ping'an stood up to take his leave, "I won't disturb Aunt Feng further."
Aunt Feng nodded, then asked, "Don't you want to look around the Fire God Temple?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head.
The Five Phases school called the imperial fortune that arose from the virtue of fire the "Fire Virtue." But the Great Li dynasty wasn't like that, so the capital only had one Fire God Temple.
For instance, the Dayuan dynasty in Northern Ju Prefecture was founded on the virtue of water.
Aunt Feng shook her wine jug, "Then I won't see you out."
Chen Ping'an walked back along the same path. At the Fire God Temple gate, he met the old temple keeper who also acted as gatekeeper. He stopped and chatted with the old woman for a while before leaving.
Back at the flower pavilion stone stool, Aunt Feng continued drinking alone.
Holding the Mars Star, brushing the constellations, boiling the four seas, refining the five mountains—majestic Fire Virtue, all spirits look up to.
Chen Ping'an walked out of the Fire God Temple and looked back on the deserted street.
What is cultivation? Water god walking water.
What is seeking Buddha? Fire god seeking fire.
Afterward, Chen Ping'an went to the Ministry of Revenue office. He didn't go to Yichi Lane to find Guan Yiran, but chose a more open approach to meet an old friend.
As for his teacher, he wasn't idle either.
In the Great Li capital, a shabby old scholar in Confucian robes first went to the capital's Sutra Translation Bureau. There, he joined his palms with monks and helped translate sutras. Then he went to the Bureau of Reverence and Void, where he also made a Daoist bow, seemingly disregarding his Confucian identity at all.
But no one would call him to account, certainly. The Literary Saint doing such things—who would object? Otherwise, who could they complain to? That a scholar's behavior was improper? Go to the Ultimate Sage, Ritual Saint, or Second Sage?
The landscape gazettes of the Haoran world had gradually been unsealed.
Countless messages poured in, like a drunkard who hadn't tasted wine in years finally being allowed to drink freely—only gulping down, drinking until drunk.
Among a series of earth-shattering events, of course, were the Central Earth Confucian Temple's council and Haoran's attack on the Barren Wasteland.
Also, the Literary Saint's restoration to the Confucian Temple divine seat.
The fifth world officially named Colorful World.
During this period, there was also a not-small piece of news: that the final Hidden Officer of the Sword Qi Great Wall, one of the world's top ten young talents, Chen Eleven.
He turned out to be from Treasure Vase Continent. But most landscape gazettes, with tacit understanding, mentioned him only in passing, with no further details. Only one or two sect-head immortal manor gazettes, like the Mountain and Sea Sect on Central Earth Divine Continent, didn't follow the rules and said more, naming the Hidden Officer outright. But after the gazette was printed and issued, it soon stopped, probably after receiving some reminder from an academy. Still, attentive people, relying on these one or two gazettes, managed to glean a few intriguing "rumors"—for example, after this man returned from the Sword Qi Great Wall to his hometown, he had quickly broken through one realm each from his former peak martial artist and Nascent Soul sword cultivator to become a Stop Realm martial artist and Jade Pure Realm sword cultivator.
Also, this man's Dao partner was the number one in the Colorful World, a Flying Ascension Realm sword cultivator, Ning Yao.
After being stunned, people wondered if this man was just too lucky. How could all the greatest blessings fall to this kid?
And what about that "Southern Bestowment Minister, Northern Hidden Officer"? What was that about?
Regardless, this young man surnamed Chen from Treasure Vase Continent could be called a first-rate figure in heaven and earth.
In a Ministry of Revenue office, Guan Yiran was flipping through several riverway memorials sent from local areas.
This Guan clan member from Yunzai Commandery in Yi Prefecture neither served in the Ministry of Personnel, which was almost his own turf, nor held a high rank in the Ministry of Revenue. Among the three former Grand River Supervisors, Guan Yiran, despite having the best background, now held the lowest official position—just the head of a department in the Ministry of Revenue. It must be noted that Guan Yiran not only bore the surname of a Pillar State but was also a genuine Great Li border garrison retinue cultivator. He had crawled through piles of corpses for years and had followed General Su Gaoshan on the southern campaign, earning no small military merit.
Guan Yiran looked up. At the doorway, a blue-robed man with his hands in his sleeves stood smiling, teasing, "General Guan, too busy with officialdom, slacking on cultivation. What if this were on the battlefield?"
Guan Yiran immediately closed the memorial, grabbed a book from the desk at random, covered the memorial with it, and stood up laughing, "Oh, if it isn't our Chief Accountant Chen! A rare guest, a rare guest."
Guan Yiran dragged his own chair around the desk, hooked the only spare guest chair with his toe, placed them facing each other, and grinned, "No choice. Small official hat, small space. Can't entertain properly. Not like our minister's and vice minister's offices—spacious enough that you don't need to open a window to fart."
Chen Ping'an stepped over the threshold and asked with a smile, "Coming here—won't it interfere with your duties?"
Guan Yiran laughed and cursed, "You're already here. Can I kick you out?"
Besides, there was nothing inappropriate. His Majesty's temper, as his great-grandfather had explained thoroughly, didn't require worrying over such small matters.
Chen Ping'an didn't rush to sit down. He took out a hand-rest inkstone from his sleeve and tossed it to Guan Yiran. "A small gift, not much to speak of."
He explained that this was a special product from an old inkstone pit in the Cloud Cave Blessed Land of the Jiang clan on Tongye Continent, called the "Water Side Pit."
Water Side Pit? Actually a name Chen Ping'an had made up on the spot.
He really didn't believe Guan Yiran, a native of Treasure Vase Continent, could know every detail of that Cloud Cave Blessed Land.
But he had heard that in recent years, the Great Li court had set up an Inkstone Affairs Office within this Ministry of Revenue, specifically responsible for searching mountains, collecting, and supervising the mining of fine stones. Besides making inkstones for the palace, the ministry could also sell some on its own—killing two birds with one stone, earning some extra income for the office.
As for the Longwei Stream Chen clan, they owned several inkstone mountains as family property. Those were real gold mines and silver mountains, selling across a continent to both mountain and mortal worlds.
Dong Shui Jing had taken a share, responsible for selling to Northern Ju Prefecture. He never touched salt, iron, or such—only focused on trivial matters of clothing, food, housing, and transportation for both nobles and commoners.
The Great Li Ministry of Revenue was the most miserable among the six ministries. Every day seemed to be about being cursed—the Ministry of War cursed them, then the Ministry of Rites cursed them, then the Ministry of Works cursed them...
According to Great Li officialdom, the Ministry of War was a grandpa's office, cursing everyone; the Ministry of Rites was a father; the Ministry of Works was a son; only the money-handling Ministry of Revenue was a grandson, anyone could spit and curse at them.
Guan Yiran took the hand-rest inkstone. Not being polite, he weighed it in his hand, rubbed it with his thumb—the stone was fine. Then he held it up, cupping it lightly in one hand near his ear, and tapped it with a bent finger of the other hand. It produced what books called a "sound of gold and jade." Guan Yiran then breathed lightly on it, watching the mist on the inkstone surface—there was a phenomenon of "breathing creating clouds." Tiny purple and gold specks, golden halos clustered. Then he scraped it lightly with his fingernail, looked closely, and nodded. Right, it was indeed from an old pit. It was worth something. With his salary, he definitely couldn't afford it.
Seeing this, Chen Ping'an's eyelids twitched slightly. These aristocratic young masters who liked such finicky things were really hard to fool.
Accepting a gift and still being so fussy, showing off his expertise—he could at least wait until the guest left.
Guan Yiran placed the inkstone gently on the table and smiled, "Inkstone, one of the four treasures of the study: brush, ink, paper, inkstone. The inkstone is here. What about the rest? You didn't help me get the whole set?"
Chen Ping'an sat on the chair, grinning, "Probably still visiting relatives. What's the hurry?"
Then Chen Ping'an asked, "Can't drink here, right?"
Guan Yiran nodded, "Strict. No drinking. Get caught, salary deduction is minor, but recording in the file is serious."
Chen Ping'an then patted the Ministry of Justice waist token at his side, twisted his wrist, and took out a wine flask. "Coincidentally, it doesn't apply to me."
A minor clerk hurried over with a document. The door was open, but he still knocked lightly. Guan Yiran said, "Come in."
The clerk glanced at the blue-robed man. Guan Yiran stood up, walked over, took the document, flipped through it while facing away from Chen Ping'an, tucked it into his sleeve, and nodded, "I still need to entertain a guest for a while. I'll find you later."
The clerk nodded and withdrew, coming and going in haste.
Then two more subordinates came to discuss matters. Guan Yiran said they would discuss it later.
Guan Yiran and Chen Ping'an each had a chair, both crossing their legs casually.
Chen Ping'an teased, "Really no rest at all."
Guan Yiran glanced at the wine flask in Chen Ping'an's hand, truly envious. The wine bugs in his belly were ready to revolt. For a wine lover, either don't drink or don't think about it. The hardest is seeing others drink while you have nothing. He sighed, "When I first retired from the border army and started working in this office, I was dizzy and overwhelmed, flustered every day."
Chen Ping'an casually laughed, "Knife pen clerks, knife pen clerks—still holding a knife, aren't they?"
Guan Yiran shook his head, "When it comes to actual matters, they're far apart."
After some idle chat, a colleague from the office came by to visit. From his official robe, he was of the same rank as Guan Yiran. This man started shouting from the doorway, "Gazette! A mountain gazette from the Mountain and Sea Sect of Central Earth Divine Continent! I swiped it from Vice Minister Ma. Yiran, come take a look! So many news items, too many to take in."
The young official saw the blue-robed man sitting and drinking, paused, didn't think much of it, assuming he was some aristocratic son from the border army. Guan Yiran's friends wouldn't have low thresholds—not in family background, but in character. So when the young official saw that man not only immediately uncross his legs but also smile and nod at him voluntarily, he wasn't too surprised and smiled back with a nod.
Guan Yiran was clearly familiar with this man, saying casually, "No more seats for you."
The man lightly tossed the landscape gazette to Guan Yiran and casually sat on the threshold, "Didn't you say you had an old friend from the jianghu? Is this Chen Ping'an that Chen Ping'an? Must be. Awesome! Yiran, you actually drank with him, and you kept drinking him under the table? When this Sword Immortal Chen comes to the capital as a guest, you set up a drinking party. Let me be bold too. Can't beat him in a fight, but can I outdrink him?"
Chen Ping'an kept silent. On the drinking table, except for Liu Jinglong, I'm not afraid of anyone.
The Ministry of Revenue wasn't as well-informed as the Ministry of Rites and Ministry of Justice. Moreover, the six ministries had clear divisions. Possibly, aside from the Minister, known as the "Earth Official," the other department heads might not know the inside story of the recent disturbance around Yichi Lane.
But the middle-level officials of the capital's six ministries were indeed all famously "humble in rank but heavy in power." Once posted to local areas, if they could be transferred back to the capital, their futures were bright.
Guan Yiran coughed to warn this guy to say less.
Chen Ping'an smiled.
Since it had come to this, Guan Yiran simply felt no guilt at all, with a completely clear conscience, and said to the colleague, "Not every time. Occasionally I'd tie with him at the table. If there's a chance next time, if he comes to the capital and isn't in a hurry to leave, I'll definitely invite you to drink together."
The young official nodded, then turned to look at the blue-robed man, asking, "Yiran, who is this?"
Chen Ping'an had already sat up straight and smiled proactively, "I'm Minister Guan's little brother from the jianghu. Not from the capital. Just arrived, so I immediately came to pay respects."
Guan Yiran waved his hand, complaining, "Little brother? That's not nice. We're brothers who clicked immediately, regretting we didn't meet sooner."
The young official wiped his face, "Yiran, look at this guy—his Dao partner on the mountain is Ning Yao of Flying Rise City! Ning Yao! I'm dying of envy! Awesome, awesome!"
Then he looked at the guest, smiling, "Brother, right?"
Chen Ping'an nodded and smiled, "Envious, envious. Must be."
Guan Yiran waved him away, "It's just a landscape gazette. Nothing to get excited about. You go get busy."
Guan Yiran spoke to Chen Ping'an mentally, introducing him, "This guy is one of the over a dozen department heads in the Ministry of Revenue. Don't let his youth fool you—he actually manages several northern prefectures including Hong Prefecture, not far from your hometown Dragon Prefecture. He's also temporarily handling all the fish-scale registers of the Northern Archives. And like you, he comes from the streets."
Chen Ping'an nodded slightly, "I can see."
It was literally "seeing" because behind this young official hung several large red lanterns raised by various landscape spirits for protection, and his scholarly aura was abundant.
Guan Yiran asked, "If you're not busy, I'll set up a drinking party for you two by Sweet Rush River. How about it? Will you give me face?"
Chen Ping'an smiled, "Of course, no problem. But the party has to be in about half a month."
Guan Yiran didn't ask why, just winked, "Drinking under the moon and flowers—that kind of party? Chief Accountant Chen, do you have the guts?"
Chen Ping'an said firmly, "Drinking with courtesans? Hell no. I'm not into that."
The young official didn't know the two were talking mentally. He took off his official hat, pressed his hand against his topknot, and sighed, "I've finished my urgent tasks for now. I'm not busy! Can't I catch my breath? Working with documents until I'm worn out—Yiran, if this continues day and night, I might go to the Sutra Translation Bureau and not be treated as an outsider anymore."
Soon, another clerk delivered a document. The young official with strong literary aura also took back the gazette and left. Chen Ping'an knew working in the Great Li Ministry of Revenue must be very busy, but he hadn't expected Guan Yiran to be this busy. So he left a jar of Hundred Flowers Brew for Guan Yiran. At worst, he could ask Aunt Feng for a few more jars later. Guan Yiran didn't be polite and only saw Chen Ping'an to the door.
Chen Ping'an walked back to the inn. At a small alley entrance, the youth Zhao Duanming waved, "Mr. Chen, I need to talk to you."
Chen Ping'an nodded lightly, hands in sleeves, strolling over leisurely. When he stepped into the alley, he smiled, "Oh, impressive, impressive! Three small heavens overlapping to form a formation, and you even used chain sword talismans. You guys are really rich."
Then Chen Ping'an laughed silently. Were these eleven people trying to regain face, meticulously setting up against him today, just like he had dealt with Wu Shuangjiang on the night boat back then?
Chen Ping'an was now inside the immortal mansion ruin of formation master Han Zhoujin. Probably, at the ghost Gai Yan's immortal inn, they felt they lost because they lost the initiative, so they weren't convinced. Chen Ping'an stood on a stone bridge, with white clouds rolling like a sea beneath his feet, a snow-white waterfall cascading down beside him. At one end of the stone bridge stood the "sword immortal" who had once sat on Yu Yu's shoulder—still a youth in appearance, but taller, wearing a Daoist crown, a sword, and vermilion robes, with pearls sewn into the seams.
Chen Ping'an looked around, "You guys don't learn from beatings, do you?"
The youth sword immortal swept his sword horizontally, cleaving the unresisting "Chen Ping'an" into... a talisman.
It seemed Chen Ping'an had never entered the alley.
At a hidden spot outside the alley, the little monk pressed his palms together, "Buddha bless me. Let Sword Immortal Chen find someone else. I'm going to look for a donation box."
Then someone behind him smiled, "Okay, I'll find someone else."
On another rooftop, Gou Cun scratched his head because Mr. Chen was sitting beside him. Chen Ping'an smiled, "Tell Yuan Huajing and Song Xu for me—give me a few chain sword talismans later, and this score is settled."
The youth looked shy and nodded. He had said earlier that they definitely couldn't regain face. Of course, if it really came to a fight, he would never hold back—but he wasn't about to fight Mr. Chen anyway.
Inside the alley, Han Zhoujin and two others each withdrew their carefully arranged layered heavens, all somewhat helpless.
Then, one by one, they were stunned: beside the fallen talisman on the ground, a blue-robed figure appeared. And the Mr. Chen beside the youth Gou Cun had instead turned into a talisman, transforming into a rainbow light that was collected into that person's sleeve.
"If you were on a battlefield facing scumbags like Fei Ran or Shou Chen, you'd be handing over your heads one by one."
Chen Ping'an smiled, "Let this be the last time."