Chapter 871: Everyone at the Table Was a Hero
(17,000-word chapter. The next smaller chapter will be updated later; it will be uploaded in the early morning.)
When he was young, Chen Ping'an had once lamented that the Vase Continent was simply too vast, yet it was actually the smallest continent in the entire Haoran World.
But for a Fourteen Realm cultivator, a continent was as small as the courtyard of one's own home.
Those who had attained the Dao could travel far on the wind, overlooking the mortal world, taking in all its wonders.
He once saw a monk sitting cross-legged in meditation beneath a waterfall, hands clasped together, bathed in sunlight like a golden arhat.
A bird tilted and swooped low, its wingtip skimming the surface of a pond, sending ripples spreading in rings.
In the courtyard of a wealthy estate, a magnolia tree in full bloom. A woman leaned against the railing to admire the flowers, perhaps silently thinking of her beloved. A curled eave and a flower branch secretly held hands.
In a small vassal kingdom of Great Li, mountain paths were treacherous. Sedan chair bearers moved swiftly as they carried guests up the mountain, but the female guests, blindfolded, missed all the beautiful scenery along the way.
In a waterside village, a girl in a lotus-leaf skirt walked barefoot, carrying embroidered shoes in her hand, tiptoeing along the path.
A young master from a wealthy family led hundreds of servants into a remote, secluded area where mountain and river spirits had fallen and not been replaced, carving into the mountains and dredging lakes.
A lofty scholar lay drunk in a mountain pavilion. Suddenly white clouds drifted past outside the cliffside pavilion. He raised his wine cup high, then casually tossed it out of the pavilion. With bleary eyes, he spoke loudly, saying that this mountain had nine streams full of stubbornly lying rocks, countless thousands of years old, and that the white clouds beneath this pavilion provided the most texturing strokes. Seeing such a view, he was filled with gratitude.
Several immortal masters traveled on cranes, among them a handsome young boy who casually waved a whisk, scattering the surrounding clouds like flying snow, while a girl beside him smiled like a flower.
In a deep, forested mountain, the Mountain Goddess stood ten feet tall, her makeup gaudy and bright. She walked along a corridor, her skirt trailing on the ground, followed by two rows of ghost children—souls of children who had died young and whom she had gathered.
A high peak with an inconspicuous vein was steep and narrow, like the back of a crucian carp, the entire mountain resembling a knife blade cutting into a chopping block. At the end of a goat path along the summit, at the edge of a cliff, a solitary courtyard had been built, with white walls and black tiles, a central courtyard open to the sky, surrounded by four streams of water flowing into it. The only companion nearby was an ancient pine rooted in the cliff face.
But most of all, there were ruins of cities both large and small, scattered everywhere. The great war had ended years ago, yet they still had not regained their former appearance.
Half the continent's mountains and rivers had changed, both the land and its people. Only the old cliff inscriptions on the mountains and the countless new epitaphs below stood facing each other in silence.
Earlier, in the Great Li capital, that classmate of Cao Qinglang's who had passed the imperial examinations, named Xun Qu, worked in the Court of State Ceremonial in the Nanxun Ward. He had brought Chen Ping'an some recent government gazettes.
Following the clues in those gazettes, Chen Ping'an visited several places, mostly staying only briefly, looking around and then leaving.
In Yuzhang Commandery, where towering trees covered the mountains—whether used for building mansions or making coffins, they were first-rate timber—the noble families of the capital and the local gentry, as well as immortal masters, demanded them endlessly. Chen Ping'an saw a group of timber thieves fighting with government soldiers with weapons in the mountains.
In Wuzhou, known for its multitude of looms, a weaving academy had already been built, and the official plaque had been hung for less than a month—a clear testament to the efficiency of Great Li's various government bureaus in implementing orders.
In Yunzhou of Huangting Kingdom, he found that stream, and sure enough, it was the entrance to an ancient Shu Kingdom Dragon Palace relic. The stream's water was excellent, clear and cold. Chen Ping'an selected a spring and drew several dozen pounds of water. Then he visited the Dragon Palace relic, ignoring the ancient prohibitions, entering as if into an empty space, arriving earlier than the Great Li geomancer experts. He did not take any of the immortal treasures there, treating it merely as a sightseeing trip.
After the experiences in the Lotus Flower Blessed Land on the earliest Tongye Continent, and later the Immortal Mansion ruins on the Northern Juzhou Continent—where he encountered the old abbot of Eastern Sea Viewing Monastery and later Sun Daochang of the Great Profound Capital Monastery—Chen Ping'an had become somewhat wary of such explorations.
The gazette also mentioned a Great Li secondary capital official named Li Chui, from the Ministry of Works. His family had been hydraulic engineers for generations. He had meticulously drawn a watercourse diversion map involving the rerouting of over a dozen major rivers and their tributaries. Predictably, the Great Li court had already dispatched astrological qi refiners from the Imperial Observatory to verify the feasibility.
For mountain and river spirits, there were also "natural and man-made disasters."
After the great war, countless mountain and river spirits in the southern part of the Vase Continent had perished, which led to many heroic souls of civil and military officials from various countries filling the vacancies for City Gods, mountain and river deities at all levels.
But the rerouting of rivers was a major disaster for the spirits along the way. A mountain god could suffer a flood, water submerging his golden idol; a river god could face drought, his idol exposed to the scorching sun.
Normally, these spirits could not move their golden idols and temples; relocation was as difficult as ascending to heaven. With a temple but no human incense, they would be struck from the golden and jade registers by the court, reduced to mere licentious shrines. They could only endure hardship, at most borrowing incense from neighboring City Gods—but only if those were willing to lend it. So in the officialdom of mountain and river spirits, everyone would rather be a county City God with limited authority than a minor mountain god or river god with fewer restrictions—these were considered menial clerical positions.
An old man who looked like a farmer, sturdy and with bronze skin like a village elder who spent every year facing the earth and turning his back to the sky, now crouched on the river embankment, sighing deeply, completely dejected.
A young man sat beside him on a woven bamboo mat, gently waving a folding fan of similar bamboo texture. The young man's skin had a sickly pallor, like a scholar who had stayed in his study for years without seeing sunlight.
The two sat together, their ages vastly different, their appearances starkly contrasting. It was like a piece of white tofu placed next to a piece of charcoal.
The old man said, "Later, I'll talk to Lord Liu, the section chief in the Ministry of Rites in the secondary capital, and see if he can put in a good word and submit a memorial."
The young man shook his head, speaking bluntly like a reckless fool with no sense of propriety. "A section chief isn't even a capital ministry official. There's no way he can help."
The old man said irritably, "And those capital ministry officials—can we hope to reach them? For the likes of us, minor gods governing small hills and little streams, Lord Liu is the biggest official I know. Better to try anything than just wait here to die."
By "capital ministry officials," he meant the directors and assistant directors who served as aides to the various department heads in the Ministry of Rites. To mountain and river spirits like them, who didn't even qualify for the official rankings, those were the great heavenly lords in the yamens.
The young man smiled calmly. "When heaven sends rain and a girl wants to marry, what can you do? You have to accept it. This diversion might harm our interests, but it's good for the people."
The old man threw a pebble into the river, muttering sullenly, "The emperor isn't worried, but the eunuch is anxious."
The young man's expression remained calm. "After all, you are my friend."
The old man turned to glance at him, then spoke softly. "There's a qi refiner coming. Stranger. Can't tell his true cultivation level. At first glance, he looks like Sea Observation realm."
The young man looked at the approaching outsider—a man in a green long gown, cloth shoes, with long, steady breaths. Clearly no ordinary mortal. Mountain and river spirits were good at observing qi, often better than cultivators at determining who was a qi refiner. But seeing through a deity's cultivation depth depended on the height of the golden idol.
The young man closed his folding fan and chuckled. "I'd advise you not to put your hopes in any random stranger. Besides, this river diversion will abolish six tributaries altogether. For you, Mountain God, that's a huge benefit. Stop making a fuss. Even if I merge my old waters into yours, it's not like they're going to outsiders."
Several other mountain gods and earth gods nearby were anxiously waiting for the Ministry of Rites and Ministry of Works to begin the major river diversion. As for the main river deities and the low-ranking river gods and goddesses, they had resigned to fate. Although the officials from the two ministries in the secondary capital had promised that the Great Li court would arrange a way out, those were likely just empty words. If they turned their backs later, who could they complain to?
The old man said angrily, "A huge benefit? If my territory expands, there'll be more trouble. And these were originally your waters, Tiaobo River. If you leave, I'll be stuck as your tomb guardian? Sure, you were a higher official in life, but I was enfeoffed as a marquis and given a fine posthumous name. How can it be my job to guard the mausoleum of you, Grand Tutor Cen? Do you think you're an emperor?"
The young man said soothingly, "Even if I lose all mortal incense, with the savings I've accumulated, plus borrowing a bit of incense from you, you can keep Diedie Ridge feeding a useless retainer who eats without working for another sixty years or so. Think of it this way: common mortals live about sixty years in a lifetime. What more could I complain about?"
The green-clad traveler stopped, cupped his fist, and smiled. "I am a wandering cultivator, Cao Mo. I pay my respects to Dou Yan, Mountain God of Diedie Ridge."
He called himself a wild mountain hermit, Cao. Then he turned to the young man. "And you must be Cen Wenqian, River God of this Tiaobo River."
Diedie Ridge's mountain god, Dou Yan, had been enfeoffed as a marquis in life, serving as county City God, prefecture City God, and then this mountain god. There were folktales among the people of immortals ascending on dragons from Diedie Ridge.
Cen Wenqian, river god of Tiaobo River, had served as a transportation commissioner in life, overseeing canal dredging and granary construction for a kingdom, ultimately becoming Minister of Rites. After death, he was posthumously honored as Grand Guardian of the Heir Apparent, with the posthumous title Wénduān.
The old man smiled, nodded, and raised both arms to return the greeting with a cupped fist. "A pleasure, a pleasure!"
Oh, this young man might look young, but he had good eyesight. He recognized both Dou Yan and Cen Wenqian. In particular, his old friend was famously reclusive, refusing all visitors to Tiaobo River, acting with more arrogance than the main river deities.
Cen Wenqian remained stubbornly silent, as usual. Dou Yan was helpless.
Cen Wenqian's river was famous for its old fish leaping and nibbling on flowers—a notable sight both on and off the mountains. Immortal masters and high officials came here to fish, as plentiful as the unique cherry-blossom bass and giant black carp.
Over the centuries, Cen Wenqian had never curried favor with anyone. If old Dou had been in his position, he would have made friends with baskets full of nobles and officials long ago, turning them into generous patrons for his temple.
In fact, in both the main capital and the secondary capital of Great Li, although many literati had heard of Tiaobo River, not a single one dared to use private influence to speak a word for Cen Wenqian or the river on official matters.
The green-clad guest looked around and smiled. "Lord Cen is indeed as rumors describe—carefree, indifferent to incense, only ensuring that the water spirits within his domain don't break the rules. He disdains managing mountain and river fortunes. If I'm not mistaken, the hundreds of thousands of people blessed by Tiaobo River haven't produced a single top-tier jinshi in nearly two centuries. Only two 'concubine-equivalent' jinshi have emerged intermittently?"
Initially, Tiaobo River had been rich and pure in both mountain-river fortune and civil-military luck. It had enjoyed great fame across several kingdoms. But as dynasties changed over the years, Cen Wenqian's enthusiasm waned. He merely ensured no floods or droughts on either side of the river, then stopped doing anything else.
As a result, Cen Wenqian was still just a river god. Given Tiaobo River's fame and the intensity of its water transport fortune, he should long since have been elevated to a full water god by the court. On the golden and jade registers of the Ministry of Rites of that kingdom, promoting a river to a major river was not impossible.
Dou Yan suppressed a smile, secretly delighted. Good, good, satisfying. This young man's roundabout mockery was right on target. Cen Wenqian deserved a good scolding.
In both his official career and his current position as a river god, Cen Wenqian had been detached and aloof, keeping his own hands clean, refusing to go along with the crowd, and never cultivating connections. How could that be considered good?
But now, thinking of his friend Cen Wenqian's situation, Dou Yan felt a pang of sadness.
Still, hearing the "concubine-equivalent" taunt, Dou Yan found it both ridiculous and amusing. That official term was quite biting.
"Granted the equivalent of a jinshi" — compared to the top three and the regular jinshi, it was like a concubine to a wife. So called "like a wife, not a wife."
Hearing a stranger's veiled sarcasm, Cen Wenqian was unbothered. It wasn't a direct insult to his face, so he pretended not to understand.
He watched as the outsider chose a fishing spot, took out a jar of fermented corn bait, scattered it into the water, then produced a green bamboo fishing rod. He scooped up some snails from the riverbank, baited the hook, and cast his line.
Mountain God Dou was naturally warmhearted and talkative, able to chat with anyone.
"Where are you from, Lord Cao?"
"Originally a native of Great Li. On this trip south, I'm just wandering, going wherever my feet take me."
"That's good. If you had come a few days later, you might have missed the cherry-blossom bass and the giant black carp."
"How so, Lord Dou?"
Cen Wenqian coughed softly.
But Dou Yan ignored his reminder. Instead, he walked over and crouched beside Lord Cao, speaking on his own. "Lord Cao may not know this, but now that Great Li is rerouting major rivers, Tiaobo River might become a thing of the past. Many water spirits have already started moving. When the riverbed is exposed and the cherry blossoms on both banks die, what cherry-blossom bass will there be?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "So Tiaobo River has indeed suffered a great calamity. I came just in time."
The last sentence chilled Dou Yan's heart.
"Brother Cao, I can see you have a kind face. I won't beat around the bush. Tell me plainly: are you an official from the Ministry of Works in the Great Li capital? Here fishing as a pastime while actually surveying mountains and rivers? How high is your rank? My eyes for judging people are never wrong. From the official aura you carry... impressive, very impressive. At least a section chief to start? It wouldn't surprise me if you later take charge of an entire department."
"If I'm not mistaken, Brother Cao, you come from Chier Lane in the capital, a young elite from a military family. You served as a military cultivator in the Great Li border army. After the war ended, you transitioned from the iron cavalry to the Ministry of Works. Am I right?!"
"And with your mountain-and-river appearance, it can't be wrong—absolutely cannot be wrong. I just don't know whether you're in the Wilderness Department or the Waters Department of the Ministry of Works in the capital."
Those two departments oversaw all matters concerning rivers, mountains, post stations, bridges, weirs, and canals throughout the realm. Indeed, they held great power.
Chen Ping'an didn't respond.
If this Mountain God Dou set up a fortune-telling stall, he would starve to death.
Dou Yan persisted. "Brother Cao, if you could get a word to a ministry director—or even better, a vice minister—just pass along a message, no matter the outcome, you'll always be a guest of honor on Diedie Ridge in the future."
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "Lord Dou, you've misunderstood. I'm not a Great Li official."
Dou Yan lowered his voice. "Could Brother Cao be one of the Azure Crow gentlemen from the Great Li Imperial Observatory?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head again. Soon he caught a bass, grabbed it, and gently tossed it into his creel.
Dou Yan clapped. "Good luck, Brother Cao! It seems you're truly fated with Tiaobo River."
For the sake of his friend, this old mountain god had truly thrown away all face.
In the past, even with colleagues in the mountain-and-river officialdom, or with his direct superior who governed dozens of prefectures and counties—the Urban City God—Dou Yan had never stooped so low.
He was convinced that this impressive-looking Lord Cao was indeed a Ministry of Works official from Chier Lane or Yichi Lane in the Great Li capital.
Great Li officials, whether high or low, were always hard to deal with. For example, this river diversion: the mountain god temples, including Diedie Ridge, and the river mansions had prepared fine wines and beautiful women to entertain them, but none of it worked. The Great Li officials simply wouldn't be guests. However, when it came to official business, they were meticulous, each doing their duty in an orderly fashion.
Like attracts like.
Chen Ping'an had a general idea. He sent a voice transmission. "I heard that Lord Cen doesn't have many friends. Besides Lord Dou, there are very few. Do any of them include an old man surnamed Cui?"
"No."
"An old man named Cui. He is a pure martial artist."
"Don't know him. I've never had much to do with martial artists."
Chen Ping'an continued, "That old man Cui once meticulously taught me boxing, but felt my aptitude was insufficient and didn't formally accept me as a disciple. So I'm merely an unregistered boxing student of Senior Cui."
In the bamboo building on Fallen Mountain, the old man never talked about the past with Chen Ping'an. That Cui Cheng was a close friend of Cen Wenqian of Tiaobo River—Chen Ping'an had learned that through Nuan Shu and Xiao Mili, with the help of Fallen Mountain's Right Guardian, the ear-reporting spirit.
Strange to say: Cui Cheng had never shown a kind face to Chen Ping'an, but with Nuan Shu and Xiao Mili, he was as gentle as could be.
Cen Wenqian was silent for a moment. "Lord Cao is joking. A successful mountain immortal who has cultivated the Dao, yet he practices boxing? Learning martial tricks? That's a waste of time and immortal talent. Aren't you afraid your family and elders in the mountains would scold you for neglecting your proper work?"
It was clear that this river god was speaking more than in the brief exchanges earlier.
Chen Ping'an caught another golden bass, cast his line again, and smiled. "I have no elders at home. As for the path of cultivation, I had a guide, but there was no formal master-disciple relationship either. So when I called myself a wandering cultivator, I wasn't trying to deceive anyone."
Cen Wenqian smiled. "What does it feel like for a cultivator to learn boxing?"
Chen Ping'an said softly, "Boxing is extremely difficult. Especially with Old Mr. Cui teaching—it was so agonizing that I regretted learning it."
Cen Wenqian sighed.
That couldn't be faked.
This young Great Li official, who kept his true depth hidden, was most likely an unregistered disciple of Cui Cheng.
Cui Cheng's approach to martial arts was as rigorous as his approach to managing a household and studying.
Cen Wenqian asked, "Since you claim to be an unregistered disciple, what about the legacy of Cui Cheng's boxing arts?"
Chen Ping'an replied with a smile, "I have a first disciple, whose martial arts aptitude is better than mine. He was fortunate enough to catch Old Cui's eye and was accepted as a formal disciple. But Old Cui doesn't stand on ceremony—we each keep our own generational hierarchy."
Cen Wenqian nodded. That was something Cui Cheng would do.
Chen Ping'an asked, "Did Old Mr. Cui ever exchange poems with you, Lord Cen?"
Cen Wenqian laughed. "Of course. Cui Cheng's scholarship and talent were excellent. He deserved the title of great writer and learned scholar. When I first met him, he was a young scholar traveling with a book bag. Dou Yan still doesn't know Cui Cheng's true identity; he always thought he was just a bookish seedling from a prominent aristocratic family in a small kingdom."
Cen Wenqian then introduced, "Old Dou, Lord Cao here is an unregistered disciple of Cui Cheng."
Dou Yan said doubtfully, "Which Cui Cheng?"
Cen Wenqian laughed. "The poor scholar who always stopped by your Diedie Ridge to mooch drinks."
Dou Yan guffawed. "Oh, you mean Little Cui! Of course I remember, how could I forget? Met a few times. But that Little Cui had high standards—he only got close to you, Lord Cen. All he ever did was trick me out of my wine."
Then Mountain God Dou noticed that the young Great Li official's expression and eyes were a bit strange.
Dou Yan asked, puzzled, "What's wrong? What else should I call him if not 'Little Cui'? We're two or three hundred years apart in age. Should I call him 'Brother Cui'? That would be too affected."
Chen Ping'an stared blankly at the river.
The river water was as green as the sky. The bass hung in it like in a mirror, not at the edge of clouds but at the edge of wine.
He too had once been young.
Like that old nanny.
This was something impossible to imagine.
Just as Mr. Qi, Cui Cheng, and the old nanny were to Chen Ping'an.
So Chen Ping'an was to Pei Qian, Cao Qinglang, Zhao Shuxia, and others.
Li Baoping, Pei Qian, and Li Huai were to Bai Xuan, the mute child of Qilong Lane, and those other children.
And those who were still small now might one day become revered predecessors that the disciples of Fallen Mountain and its branch sects could never imagine.
Perhaps this was the passing of the torch.
Chen Ping'an crouched by the river, shook the two bass from his creel back into the water, put away his rod and basket, then took a small white bowl from his sleeve. Changing his form of address, he smiled and said, "Mr. Cen, regarding the river diversion, I am an outsider to the Great Li officialdom, so I cannot change it. However, would you be willing to take a step back? Without moving your golden idol, temple, or river mansion, you could remain nearby and become a lake god instead?"
The man spoke cryptically, leaving Mountain God Dou utterly confused. Cen Wenqian becoming a lake god? But within hundreds of miles, where was there a lake?
What? Move mountains and create a lake? Did this young man think he was an old immortal of the upper five realms with the power to move mountains and overturn seas?
Even if he could shift several unowned mountain veins and carve out a pit to hold lake water, where would the water come from? Could he suspend a river channel in the sky and guide Tiaobo River into the lake? Besides, it was the dry season; Tiaobo River didn't have enough water. And even if he did such a reckless thing, the mountain-river fortune would be severely disrupted, affecting the autumn harvest for the common people on both banks. The Great Li court would surely prosecute him. Even if the secondary capital and the capital's Ministry of Works made an exception, the river diversion was a done deal. Even if a new lake were built, the water would have no source. The lake's water transport would be stagnant. The water spirits of the old Tiaobo River would never follow Cen Wenqian to a stagnant pool. Then Cen Wenqian would still be a solitary soul with no incense. What was the point?
Young and brash, without sense.
Still, the goodwill was appreciated.
Cen Wenqian smiled and shook his head. "Lord Cao, there's no need to go to such trouble. It would only waste your cultivation, spiritual energy, and official connections."
Chen Ping'an laughed. "If I may be so bold as to say so, this is no trouble at all. It's as simple as raising a glass at a banquet."
Mountain God Dou sent a silent message, laughing angrily. "Wenqian, look at this expression, this tone. Isn't he just like that penniless Cui Cheng back then?"
"I'll be right back."
Green-clad traveler with bowl in hand, he took just one step and vanished in an instant, far beyond a million miles.
Dou activated his mountain god's innate ability, withdrew his senses, and said in shock, "Good heavens, he's already left the bounds of Diedie Ridge!"
Soon the green robe reappeared on the banks of Tiaobo River, still holding the white bowl, which now contained some water.
Dou was deeply disappointed. All thunder but little rain? With such a small bowl, even if he had used immortal magic, how much water could it hold? Probably less than the water in Tiaobo River! Why go far away for that?
But Cen Wenqian's expression grew solemn. "Lord Cao, did you borrow water from a major river?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I went a bit farther and found a different source."
Cen Wenqian pressed, "Is it seawater?!"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Rest assured, Mr. Cen. Although it was taken near the river mouth, I have already purified it. It's not as clear as Tiaobo River water for now, but with time, its water transport quality won't be too bad. This bowl holds enough water to sustain a great lake three hundred miles across."
Cen Wenqian was speechless.
"Enough"? The ancient legend said immortals carried an Eastern Sea in their sleeves!
Dou Yan gaped, craning his neck to stare at the bowl of clear water. Was this young man bragging without any shame?
Chen Ping'an handed the white bowl filled with water to Cen Wenqian with a smile. "Mr. Cen, you and Old Mr. Cui were friends. 'The friendship of gentlemen is as pure as water.'"
Cen Wenqian was not pedantic. He graciously accepted the bowl, which was not heavy.
After Cen Wenqian took the bowl of water, Chen Ping'an surveyed the surrounding mountains and rivers. He pressed his index and middle fingers together, didn't need talisman paper—drew an arc as a talisman, forming a circular boundary to define the territory. Then he turned his palm over. In an instant, the mountains and rivers trembled. Several miles from Tiaobo River, adjacent to Diedie Ridge, a three-hundred-mile area suddenly sank. But all living beings with spirit within that area were lightly flicked into the air by the green-clad traveler's sleeve, as if riding clouds, and landed safely on the upstream bank of Tiaobo River. Then he gently made a grasping motion. The collapsed mountain roots and earth veins condensed into a tiny soil ball the size of a mustard seed, which he held in his hand. Using his fingers to draw talismans again, learning from Immortal Hairpin City and Lu Chen's method of one person one talisman, he drew a water character talisman at the bottom of the pit and a mountain character talisman on the soil ball in his hand. This formed a preliminary pattern of mountain and water depending on each other for the future great lake and Diedie Ridge.
Miraculous skill.
Neither a river god nor a mountain god had ever heard of such a method of moving mountains and transporting water. Their golden idols vibrated, and their minds wavered.
No longer "Lord Cao"; they should address him as "Immortal Cao" or "Lord Cao Immortal."
Chen Ping'an handed the apricot-sized miniature soil ball to Dou Yan with a smile. "Brother Dou, we met by chance and hit it off. In the future, I'll come beg you for wine again. This mountain character talisman can be placed at the root of your territory's earth vein. It will gradually generate earth qi, slightly benefiting the fortune of Diedie Ridge. As for the future border between the ridge and the lake, don't worry about the mountain and water conflicting. They will only stabilize each other."
Dou Yan took the strange soil ball called "mountain character talisman." He stumbled and nearly dropped it, his old face flushing red.
Dou Yan glanced at Cen Wenqian, who was holding the bowl with ease. Strange. Why only I made a fool of myself?
Chen Ping'an said, "Wait a moment. I need to write a quick letter. Brother Dou, could you deliver it to the Marquis of Eternal Spring, that major river god? I have a half-countryman connection with this former Tiefu River deity. When the commotion here today becomes known, maybe the Marquis can explain things to the secondary capital and the Ministry of Works."
As he spoke, Chen Ping'an twisted his wrist, took out paper and brush from his sleeve. The paper floated in the air, mist filled the surroundings, forming a mysterious mountain-water prohibition. He quickly finished a sealed letter to the Marquis of Eternal Spring, Water God Yang Hua. The letter was full of polite pleasantries, explaining the reason for the changes at Tiaobo River today. The final sentence was the key: he simply hoped that the Marquis would, so long as it didn't break any rules, give a little extra care to Dou Yan, Mountain God of Diedie Ridge.
Just as every great mountain lord in the Nine Continents of Haoran governed many rivers, so too did the high-ranking dukes and marquises of major rivers have many mountain ranges within their jurisdiction.
Finally, Chen Ping'an took out a personal seal engraved with the characters "Chen Eleven."
He picked up the seal and gently breathed on the bottom characters before stamping it at the end of the letter.
This was the first time Chen Ping'an had used this treasured seal, kept for many years, to formally stamp a letter.
In the future, in correspondence between Fallen Mountain and other peaks, as long as it was a handwritten letter from Mountain Lord Chen Ping'an, it would be stamped either "Fallen Mountain Chen Ping'an" or with this "Chen Eleven."
This was the proper formality among mountain immortals.
Chen Ping'an placed the letter in an envelope and handed it to Dou Yan. Finally, he cupped his fist and smiled at the two. "Mr. Cen, Brother Dou, I need to hurry on my way. Let us part here. The mountains are high and the rivers long—we shall meet again."
Cen Wenqian and Dou Yan each returned the greeting.
Dou Yan sighed deeply. "Wenqian, this time I rode your coattails. A great blessing came out of nowhere."
Truly the work of an immortal—a miraculous feat accomplished with such ease.
Cen Wenqian smiled but said nothing.
Dou Yan suddenly asked, "Eh? Wenqian, do you remember clearly the face and appearance of that Lord Cao Immortal?"
Cen Wenqian frowned slightly and shook his head. "Indeed, I can't remember well."
Dou Yan marveled. "What kind of thing is this? The actions of mountain-top immortals truly cannot be judged by common sense."
Cen Wenqian said softly, "There's nothing hard to understand. It's just that a gentleman bestows grace without expecting reward."
If he wasn't mistaken, in that letter, the elusive green-clad traveler would surely instruct the Marquis of Eternal Spring, Yang Hua, not to reveal his identity to Dou Yan.
Mountain God Dou carefully stored the mountain character talisman in his sleeve, rubbed his face vigorously, and was about to speak when his golden idol trembled again, light streaming all over his body.
Not only on Dou Yan's Diedie Ridge, but fog immediately rose and colored clouds gathered.
And this Tiaobo River—though it was the season between summer and autumn, cherry blossoms bloomed profusely on both banks, as if spring had arrived.
Cen Wenqian said softly, "It's the effect of those four words: 'Mountains high, rivers long.'"
Dou Yan's voice trembled. "Could he be a moral sage whose words become law?!"
Cen Wenqian remained silent.
Dou Yan scratched his head. "What's going on?"
Cen Wenqian teased with a smile, "It's not like only I knew Cui Cheng. You knew 'Little Cui' too, didn't you?"
Dou Yan suddenly had a flash of insight. That stumble of his earlier—could it have been because the Lord Cao Immortal, who respectfully referred to Cui Cheng as "Old Mr. Cui," was holding a grudge over him repeatedly calling Cui Cheng "Little Cui"?
Dou Yan asked, "Did you never ask about how Cui Cheng is?"
He knew that this old friend had repeatedly broken the rules, leaving the jurisdiction of Tiaobo River without permission. If it weren't for the fact that a mere river god was already the lowest rank of water deities, with no more degradation possible, Cen Wenqian would have been demoted again and again. But because of this, Cen Wenqian had no hope of promotion. The Prefecture City God had directly told the Tiaobo River Mansion: the annual roll call at the City God temple is waived—your little temple cannot accommodate you, Great Water God Cen.
Cen Wenqian's expression darkened. "The answer was already in the expression of that green-clad traveler. There was no need to ask more."
Chen Ping'an then made a trip to Meizhou Kingdom, but he couldn't find the young county magistrate who had been a mad drunkard in his youth in that familiar county town. He had intended to repeat his old trick: buy a few sheets of cursive calligraphy from the magistrate with wine. But after inquiring at the county yamen, he learned that the magistrate had long resigned from office and traveled north. Back then, the deal had been too good: with only five jars of mountain-brewed wine, he had obtained a large stack of cursive calligraphy. The characters radiated heavenly light and were strict in their structure.
Chen Ping'an's own calligraphy was average, but he believed his appreciation was not inferior to the great calligraphers of the mortal world. Besides, even Zhu Lian and Cui Dongshan had said that those cursive calligraphy pieces were beyond their ability to imitate even seventy or eighty percent of the spirit. That was the highest praise. Cui Dongshan had directly said that each piece could be a family heirloom, increasing in value with age. Even Great Mountain Lord Wei Lai had shamelessly begged Chen Ping'an for one piece, "Immortal Stepping on the Void." It contained fewer than thirty characters, written in one breath: "Immortal walks the void, red clouds spring beneath feet, wind and rain scatter heavenly flowers, dragon mud seals jade slips, great fire refines true texts."
Scholar Zhong's methods were even better than Wei Lai's. He didn't demand — just repeatedly went to the first floor of the bamboo building to "borrow" a certain piece from Little Nuan Shu, claiming he needed to copy the model many times or he couldn't capture the cursive spirit. When Chen Ping'an later returned to Fallen Mountain and heard this, he tactfully offered the piece as a gift. Scholar Zhong had the cheek to say, "How embarrassing! A gentleman does not take what another loves." Cao Qinglang happened to be present and said, "I can help Scholar Zhong return this 'Monk Under the Moon' piece to my teacher."
Chen Ping'an bought several jars of locally brewed "Crow's Cry" wine in Chishui City by Scroll Lake.
As fate would have it, drinking Crow's Cry wine reminded him of the "just encountered" Ascension realm ghost cultivator, the teacher of the Immortal Hairpin City Lord Xuanpu, whose Dao name was precisely "Crow's Cry."
Back then, the sole young master of Chishui City, Fan Yan, had been considered a foolish simpleton. Now he was the city lord, and he had attached himself to the Great Li court, allowing Chishui City to grow stronger under the watchful eye of the True Realm Sect. Such a domineering figure had once called the child Gu Can "Brother Gu" to his face.
Chen Ping'an walked by the water's edge and looked back, seeing a thriving tavern in the distance.
It was probably the first and only time he had ever seriously hosted a banquet.
At that banquet, Gu Can had actually been more familiar and at ease than Chen Ping'an, even as a half-grown child, laughing and talking with flair.
When Jiang Shangzhen was still in charge, he had allocated five islands from Scroll Lake, where the True Realm Sect was located, to Fallen Mountain. This exclave was registered under the name of a young cultivator named Zeng Ye.
Jiang Shangzhen hadn't bothered with any ancestral hall deliberations; he decided it with a single word.
Who could object? Wei Ying, who could be considered half his son?
The then chief guest elder Liu Laocheng? Or the second guest elder, Intercepting River Lord Liu Zhimao? Or Li Fuqu?
North of Scroll Lake, in Shihao Kingdom, Emperor Han Jingling, who had never cultivated, was nearly fifty and had begun to show signs of age.
Today, after retiring from court, he had free time and again dragged his grandson and granddaughter into his old refrain, repeating over and over: "That Fallen Mountain Sword Immortal Chen once drank with me!"
It wasn't even "we" anymore.
No matter how great a man's past feats, this one old acquaintance story had to be told, and told often. After telling his sons, he told his grandsons.
As for the fact that back when he became emperor, Han Jingling had gotten cocky and, together with Huang He, made a trip to Green Gorge Island, demanding to sit in that accounting room—but was stopped by Gu Can. At the time, the two sides hadn't gotten along well. But Gu Can back then was like a different person, deep and inscrutable, not showing it on his face.
Why bring up such trivial matters?
"It wasn't just casually tossing out a jar of immortal wine. It was a proper banquet—a whole table of food and wine, but just ordinary wine. You kids don't understand the nuances of it. If it had been mountain wine, it wouldn't have been as interesting."
The two children had heard this old story so often their ears were calloused. They shook their heads and made faces at each other.
One child opened his mouth wide and mouthed the words the emperor always used to end the story:
"Everyone at the table was a hero!"
Chen Ping'an took only two steps to travel from Shihao Kingdom to Scroll Lake. He didn't mind Han Jingling's embellishments. Boasting wasn't a crime—and he was an emperor, after all.
Then he silently went to the Palace Willow Island and found Li Fuqu. She had recently taken on an unregistered disciple from a small place called Xianyou County, named Guo Chunxi. The disciple's cultivation aptitude was terrible, but Li Fuqu was more attentive to her than to her formal disciples.
Seeing Chen Ping'an, Li Fuqu was greatly surprised. Chen Ping'an asked about Zeng Ye's cultivation progress. Li Fuqu naturally told him everything.
They also chatted about Gao Mian. It turned out that after the Fallen Mountain ceremony, Li Fuqu had become a guest elder of the Invincible Divine Fist Gang, not a mere retainer.
Gao Mian had already stepped down as gang leader. This old former leader, who had fallen in realm twice from Jade Pu, had nearly had his Longevity Bridge broken by a great demon in the battle near the major river. He fell in realm again, barely managing to keep a Golden Core realm. He wouldn't be able to show off his strength again in this life.
When Li Fuqu participated in her first ancestral hall meeting there, she witnessed a spitting, shouting match between two groups. They weren't arguing over whether to change the mountain's name, but which new name was better. After all, a proper cultivator sect couldn't keep such an embarrassing name that even a martial arts gang wouldn't choose.
In the early days, it was only because the old gang leader was still strong—couldn't beat him in a fight, couldn't out-argue him—that they hadn't put it on the agenda.
At the True Realm Sect, you never saw such a scene. Three successive sect leaders—Jiang Shangzhen, Wei Ying, Liu Laocheng—all commanded authority.
The True Realm Sect was impressive: in such a short time, they had produced three sect leaders.
At first, Li Fuqu had worried that Old Leader Gao might be greatly disheartened by this, his heroic spirit deflated. But it wasn't like that at all. When Li Fuqu found Gao Mian, the old man was in high spirits. It turned out that Su Jia, the fairy from Zhengyang Mountain, had been reinstated into the ancestral hall's formal disciple register.
Xun Yuan, nicknamed "One-Foot Spear," Gao Mian, nicknamed "Jade-Faced Young Lord" and "Martial Tenth Realm," and the mysterious "Collapsed True Lord"—these several wealthy bumpkins were famous big spenders in the mountain's "mirror flower, water moon" scene. It was said they had supported half of the continental entertainment industry. Countless fairies had received these men's lavish spending.
There was also an unknown brother with the Dao name "Little White Strip in the Waves." He didn't spend much, but he always showed up, using a few snowflake coins and shouting to help the less popular fairies create an atmosphere of thousands of troops kneeling at their feet.
Li Fuqu asked, "Mountain Lord Chen, since you came to Palace Willow Island, don't you want to see Sect Leader Liu or Island Leader Liu?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "Not this time."
In fact, when Jiang Shangzhen was sect leader of the True Realm Sect, besides that act of using public funds for private gain, he had also called Chief Guest Elder Liu Laocheng for a walk by the lake on Palace Willow Island. Sect Leader Jiang casually broke off a willow branch and said two things with a grin:
"You think breaking through the Jade Pu bottleneck to become an Immortal requires killing her with your own hands—that's your own cultivation, I don't care."
"But if you want her dead, I'll make sure you die first. That's my personal matter, which you also can't control."
Liu Laocheng didn't dare take it lightly.
Perhaps heaven leaves no path without a way out, forcing Liu Laocheng to find another route, and he actually managed to break into the Immortal realm. He went from Chief Guest Elder to become the third sect leader in the True Realm Sect's history, after the two sword immortals Jiang Shangzhen and Wei Ying.
Chen Ping'an then went to Green Gorge Island. But it wasn't to see Liu Zhimao. He went to the Vermilion String Mansion.
The female ghost of Green Gorge Island, Hongsu, was actually the previous life's Palace Willow Island female cultivator Huang Han, and Liu Laocheng's Dao partner.
A few years ago, she had resigned from her post as a female official at Hengbo Mansion and returned to being the doorkeeper of Vermilion String Mansion.
Because she still wasn't good at dealing with the infighting among women. She honestly couldn't manage the dozen or so maidservants, each with their own schemes, so she quit a rather prestigious, leisurely, and well-paid job and returned to Vermilion String Mansion to continue being the doorkeeper for Lord Ma. When visitors came, she would ring a bell by the door.
During her years at Hengbo Mansion, she had saved up many snowflake coins. Whenever Hongsu felt unhappy, she would spend one to transform from her ugly, terrifying old woman appearance back into a young woman, so she didn't seem so hideous.
But Lord Ma scolded her for being a wasteful woman.
The ghost cultivator Ma Yuanzhi, formerly a "meal carrier," was still a second-grade guest elder on Green Gorge Island, making a living under Liu Zhimao. Following the rising Intercepting River Lord, he had gained a registered disciple identity with the True Realm Sect. He didn't actually have to do any work; he just collected an annual salary.
This former "meal carrier," one of the many menial laborers of the Jinghang Bureau, had a position of utter lowliness, yet he possessed a rather refined heart. The ghost cultivator had named his Green Gorge Island mansion "Vermilion String," derived from the line "Chongrun rings a vermilion string" in an obscure poem from his old kingdom. "Rings" sounded like "thinks," and the former island lord of the Zhucha Island, Liu Zhongrun, was the eldest princess of his old kingdom.
Unfortunately, the long-cherished eldest princess, Liu Zhongrun, had long since taken a flock of twittering girls and moved out of Scroll Lake to settle on a foreign mountain called "Turtle's Back."
Over the years, the ghost cultivator had cursed the accountant many times.
He would say on one hand that he had no ulterior motives, swearing he had no improper thoughts and would never actively provoke the eldest princess.
On the other hand, he had secretly coaxed the eldest princess away to his hometown. Turtle's Back... damn it! Fish—slippery. "Back"—the ghost cultivator only had to imagine the eldest princess's fair, delicate back... and he wanted to cry.
Come to think of it, the eldest princess was such a beauty. It was normal for a young man like Chen Ping'an to have some wandering thoughts, some crooked ideas.
But so many years apart, across thousands of mountains and rivers, would she have pined for him, grown thin and haggard, her waist even more slender?
Back then, for her, this ghost had literally given his life.
He had already given her his heart.
She had slept on his heart for many years.
Hah! He really wanted to give her his body too.
Today, the ghost cultivator Ma Yuanzhi arrived at his mansion's gate, intending to go out. He wanted to take a boat trip to Zhucha Island and wander around. What if the eldest princess returned and the first thing she saw was his majestic figure?
The doorkeeper Hongsu plucked up her courage and asked, "Master, did Mr. Chen really become the mountain lord of a sect?"
Ma Yuanzhi stopped and sneered, "Do you think I'd lie to you for money?"
The female ghost said timidly, "No, that couldn't be."
Ma Yuanzhi rubbed his chin. "I wonder if the story of my passionate love affair with the eldest princess has been printed into a book yet."
Hongsu blushed. "And my story—Mr. Chen also wrote it down."
Ma Yuanzhi glared. "You're too stupid to be saved. In our Chief Liu's Hengbo Mansion, a place of wealth and luxury, you didn't know how to enjoy yourself! Instead, you came back to work as a doorkeeper in my ghostly place! I'm baffled. Even if there were lechers at Hengbo Mansion, there were plenty of pretty women there, all with big chests and round hips. Even the pickiest wouldn't set their sights on you, would they? If no one else were willing to take this menial job, look at you now—you'd scare not only humans but ghosts back to life! Shouldn't I be charging you? And you have the nerve to collect your salary from me every month? Every time I delay a few days, you get sulky! Are you a debt-collecting ghost?"
Hongsu didn't dare talk back.
After all, Lord Ma's words were always hard to hear.
But he was her master.
Ma Yuanzhi crossed his arms and snorted coldly. "Next time I see that bastard surnamed Chen, I'll teach him a lesson. Young people who don't keep their word—what kind of world are they running? What's so great about becoming a sect leader or a sword immortal..."
A figure in green robes appeared out of thin air, smiling as he followed up, "What indeed?"
Ma Yuanzhi fixed his gaze and burst out laughing. "Oh my! If it isn't Young Master Chen!"
Several adjacent islands in Scroll Lake were crowded with ghost cultivators and spirits, most of them quietly cultivating on the islands and rarely going out. It wasn't that they were afraid of being killed on sight if they left. As long as they wore their island identity tokens, they could come and go freely within the bounds of Scroll Lake, recognized by both the True Realm Sect and the Great Li garrison. But if they left Scroll Lake on long journeys, they had to rely on their own abilities. Some carried away by their own excitement had resumed their old, shady trades, clashed with registered immortal masters, and been killed on the spot.
However, a sum of spirit coins had been paid as compensation to Zeng Ye. According to the True Realm Sect, it was handled according to the Great Li mountain and river laws—the crime did not warrant death. If they weren't willing to let it go, they could go to the Great Li Ministry of Justice to argue.
Zeng Ye had actually been very hesitant at the time. Ma Duyi's idea was better: go ask Old Mr. Zhang. What good idea could you come up with, thinking you were Mr. Chen or Gu Can? Since you don't have the brains, find someone who does.
Zeng Ye knew in his heart that the reason the True Realm Sect and Green Gorge Island treated them—these inferior ghost cultivators and spirits—with special consideration was entirely due to Mr. Chen's influence.
Zeng Ye, once a boy from Maoyue Island, was naturally suited for ghost path cultivation. Opportunities kept coming. First, he was taken away from the pit of fire by Green Gorge Island's steward, Zhang Yan, and became an assistant to that accountant. Then he always stayed by Gu Can's side. A few years ago, he had already reached the Sea Observation realm as a qi refiner. Now he was practically the leader of a mountain sect.
Before Gu Can departed for his travels to the Central Continent, he left the "Peace and Safety Tablet" with Zeng Ye. At first, Zeng Ye was worried about whether this was allowed under Great Li law. He didn't dare to take it out, because using a forged Ministry of Justice Peace and Safety Tablet was a capital crime! Later, he learned that Gu Can had long since handled it through the Ministry of Justice—the tablet had been transferred to Zeng Ye's name. According to Zhang Yan, this was even more difficult than obtaining a tablet in the first place.
As for Ma Duyi, she was a ghost. She had always lived inside that fox-fur talisman. She had bought a huge pile of cosmetics.
The hometown of Mr. Chen and Gu Can was full of strange people and strange things. Just the Fallen Mountain: when Zeng Ye and Ma Duyi first visited, a slender young girl had given them quite a shock. They saw her suddenly fall from a very high cliff, hitting the ground heavily and smashing countless craters. A much smaller girl was crouching by the edge of a big crater, hugging her head with both hands.
When the girl landed, the straw sandals on her feet were flowing with blood.
Only later did they learn that the dark-skinned girl was named Pei Qian, Mr. Chen's first disciple.
After using her unique method to confirm their identities as outsiders, the little girl in black, carrying a golden carrying pole and a green bamboo staff, had been very reserved at first. Then she immediately became lively, chattering, "We Pei Qian was practicing boxing! Gonna give the little heads on the ground a good whack!"
The little girl hopped and skipped, chattering the whole time about how amazing Pei Qian was.
But Pei Qian pressed down on her little head and said earnestly, "We children of the martial world travel the land only to do righteous deeds. Fame is not important."
This left even the well-traveled Zeng Ye and Ma Duyi dumbfounded, exchanging glances.
Neither of them were pure martial artists, so they didn't understand the subtleties of that girl's cliff-jumping "ground-smashing" technique, nor could they comprehend the height of that boxing technique, "Using pure physique to punch the earth."
Over the years, they had always followed the movements of Mr. Chen and Gu Can. They never missed a single Mountain Water Gazette from the True Realm Sect. Unfortunately, there was no news from Mr. Chen. As for Gu Can, after they parted ways in Longzhou, he had suddenly transformed from the formal disciple of Intercepting River Lord Liu Zhimao into a disciple of the Central Continent's White Emperor City—and the final disciple, at that!
For the former Scroll Lake wild cultivators, White Emperor City was unreachable, insurmountable.
And Sect Leader Zheng, hailed as the world's greatest demonic overlord, was a being high in the heavens.
In the early days, whenever Zeng Ye saw Gu Can on Green Gorge Island, he would tremble with fear. Later, after traveling around with Gu Can, the situation improved. In the end, when he was away from home, he actually felt safer with Gu Can by his side.
Ma Duyi had once reminded Zeng Ye that Gu Can was still Gu Can. He had indeed changed a lot—become more disciplined, doing many good deeds within his ability. Even some of his actions seemed satisfying and more fitting than what one would expect. But you couldn't think he had turned into a good person.
As for whether Zeng Ye had truly taken her words to heart, Ma Duyi didn't care. She only believed one thing: as long as Mr. Chen was in the mortal world, the Gu Can in the mountains would become "better."
Even if Gu Can successfully reached the peak of Haoran in the future, there would always be a certain unknown guideline in his heart that existed for a long, long time.
In truth, after saying those unpleasant words to Zeng Ye, Ma Duyi felt a little guilty herself.
After all, following Gu Can on their travels over the years, Ma Duyi had also come to feel a certain closeness to him. He could count as half a friend.
One had to admit: spending time with Gu Can felt secure.
Like traveling with half of Mr. Chen—just freeload and have fun, worry-free.
After Chen Ping'an left Vermilion String Mansion on Green Gorge Island, he arrived at this place and found that Island Lord Zeng Ye was cultivating inside his house, so he didn't disturb the mid-five-realm immortal's meditation. Ma Duyi was swinging in her own courtyard.
Alone, he went to the island's mountaintop, sat on a railing, and drank wine slowly, looking at a somewhat unfamiliar Scroll Lake.
He had traveled around here for several years, but it was also here that he had learned a truth: the heroic spirit of heaven and earth, eternal and majestic.
He threw an empty Crow's Cry wine jar into the lake.
"Everyone at the table was a hero"?
If that referred to the drinking tables of the Sword Qi Great Wall, it would be right.
After finishing a jar of wine, on his way to Cloud Mist Mountain, he passed by a place.
Looking at the bleak scene before him, it was hard to imagine that this was once the famous Nantang Lake of the continent.
The great lake had dried up, said to have been drained almost completely by the old Throne-class great demon Yangzhi. Now the water level was less than ten percent of its former height.
A few years ago, this had been a scenic wonder of the Vase Continent. The "Thatched Arbor Plum Blossoms Thickest in Spring" of Nantang Lake's Green Plum Temple was a stunning sight, praised as "one cultivates for lifetimes to grow such plum flowers."
A thousand-year-old Daoist temple. Every year when the plums bloomed, immortal masters, emperors, generals, ministers, wealthy elites, and literati came in an endless stream, leaving countless poems about the plum blossoms.
In recent years, the female cultivators of Green Plum Temple, besides tirelessly using their spiritual energy to employ water techniques, gathering clouds and summoning rain, had also been borrowing water from other rivers and moving it here, trying to refill the lake. But both efforts advanced slowly. For one thing, several neighboring mountain gods and earth gods had filed complaints, but they couldn't be blamed—it involved changes in the mountain-river fortune. Moreover, many plum trees within the temple had been severely damaged. And refilling a lake wasn't as simple as adding water to a river.
Chen Ping'an saw a familiar figure, who was at that moment doing what she did best: starting a mirror flower water moon show to earn spirit coins.
This young lady Zhou of Green Plum Temple was an expert in mirror flower water moon, and "borrowing scenery" came as naturally to her as breathing. In the early years, whenever she visited a mountain sect or an immortal mansion, she would use Green Plum Temple's unique copying method to capture the scene, then embed her own image into the picture, before sending it to well-acquainted immortal masters and wealthy patrons. Last time, when she traveled to Longzhou, Zhou Qionglin was accompanying Song Yuan and Liu Runyun of the Yidai Peak. Chen Ping'an was there with the little charcoal with a swollen face.
At that time, Zhou Qionglin didn't want to miss any opportunity to "become friends with a friend's friends." She had wanted to use Yidai Peak as a bridge to connect with Fallen Mountain.
Chen Ping'an hadn't liked her lack of discretion back then. She was too deliberate and might easily drag Yidai Peak into trouble. He felt she was too calculating. Cultivating connections was fine, but not in such a careless way, so he had declined.
After they parted, what Pei Qian secretly told him shook him deeply.
Pei Qian had said that she saw, in that fox-eyed sister's heart, many, many pitiful little people in tattered clothes. They were just like her when she was little—thin, starving. And that sister was very sad, looking at an empty big rice bowl, not daring to look at those children.
The child Pei Qian, at that time, didn't understand that her casual words would cause her teacher to reflect on this for the rest of his life.
Now, leaning against a withered plum tree, Chen Ping'an watched that mirror flower water moon show. It wound around and somehow ended up involving his own Fallen Mountain.
It was about the grand ceremony—a hot topic across the continent's mountains and among the people.
The younger qi refiners were especially dismissive, holding a terrible opinion of the young sword immortal who had stolen the show: relying on his realm, arrogant and domineering, leaving no room for others.
In fact, Zhou Qionglin hadn't initially intended to speak well of Fallen Mountain. It was just habit: she mentioned that she had been fortunate enough to be acquainted with Sword Immortal Chen, trying to elevate her own status. A simple, common tactic. But unexpectedly, it caused an uproar—a real miscalculation. Still, many people had thrown snowflake coins, saying strange things to the young lady Zhou, like "You've recognized Fallen Mountain as your dad? Like being a filial son?"
Then someone else threw coins to echo: "Wrong, wrong, you forgot a word. Our young lady Zhou might have recognized a rich and powerful sugar daddy!"
Zhou Qionglin simply didn't care. Her smile remained. As long as those people spent money to curse her, she was happy.
She only replied, "Wise grandsons, you're all right."
Chen Ping'an could tell she honestly didn't mind.
After she ended the mirror flower water moon, she gently shook her fist, cheering herself on. "Got it, got it. Found a way to make money. Next time, I'll bring up that young sword immortal who can't be connected to me in a thousand guesses. Better make the relationship even more ambiguous—will definitely earn more." She believed that with Chen Ping'an's current prominent status, he would never bother with a minor cultivator like her from Green Plum Temple.
But when Zhou Qionglin looked at the shallow waters of Nantang Lake, she felt lost. Even if they could refill the lake, what about all the dead plum trees? And the original abundant water fortune of old Nantang Lake—she felt hopeless, and tears suddenly streamed down her face.
It seemed some hardships in life were simply impossible to endure. Even if you endured them, only the person passed, not the events.
Zhou Qionglin suddenly looked up, utterly bewildered.
In the blink of an eye, a strange phenomenon occurred: black clouds rolled in, a sea of clouds converged instantly, lightning and thunder without warning, a majestic and heart-stopping scene.
The sea of clouds covered a hundred miles around the old Nantang Lake waters. Day turned to night.
Heavy rain poured down onto the world, and the water level of Nantang Lake rose rapidly, visible to the naked eye.
The magic robe she wore repelled water, so she didn't mind the torrential rain.
Chen Ping'an hesitated for a moment. Instead of leaving quietly, he smiled and spoke. "I happened to pass by this place. What a coincidence—I got to watch a free mirror flower water moon. I must thank you, young lady Zhou, for speaking well of Fallen Mountain."
Somewhat guilty, Zhou Qionglin immediately turned her head, wiped the tears from her face, and curtsied to the Fallen Mountain sword immortal, smiling. "I pay my respects to Mountain Lord Chen."
Chen Ping'an said, "I just happened to pass by and encountered such a heavenly phenomenon. Although I couldn't see the fabled beauty of Green Plum Temple, it was still well worth the trip."
Zhou Qionglin blinked. Since the young sword immortal didn't want to reveal the truth, she would play along.
Otherwise, how could there be so many coincidences in the world?
In her impression, this young mountain lord had seemed quite aloof and not very approachable.
Later, the shocking grand ceremony and sword challenge had made Zhou Qionglin decide never to have anything to do with Fallen Mountain.
As for why Sword Immortal Chen had done this today, she couldn't figure it out and didn't want to think too much. Anyway, it wasn't because he fancied her—otherwise, he wouldn't have turned her away back then.
And even if he did, what would she be afraid of?
If she could help restore Green Plum Temple to its former glory, she would fear nothing. She would do anything willingly.
An orphan from a filthy gutter, brought to Green Plum Temple as a girl by her master, eventually becoming a mountain immortal—she had to cherish her good fortune, be grateful, and repay her debts.
Chen Ping'an smiled. "If you wouldn't mind, young lady Zhou, you can come visit us at Fallen Mountain sometime. When you're there, you can start a mirror flower water moon show. We'll split the spirit coins fifty-fifty, how about that? But I should mention in advance that there are a few places on the mountain that aren't suitable for filming. We can discuss the details when you get to Longzhou. Then our little steward Nuan Shu and the Right Guardian of Fallen Mountain can take you around to find suitable scenery."
Zhou Qionglin nodded blankly, hardly daring to believe it.
Chen Ping'an took out that Great Li Peace and Safety Tablet, putting it to use again. "I can help explain things to the few mountain gods near Nantang Lake. Whether they listen is up to them."
Zhou Qionglin sincerely thanked him again.
Chen Ping'an continued, "As for the water fortune and the plum trees, I might be able to help a little. You can wait and see what happens."
That version of himself in the Wildlands had gained some Yeluoluo River water fortune after a tug-of-war with Crimson Concubine.
As for the dead plum trees in Green Plum Temple, there was naturally a way to remedy them. He had been fortunate enough to know the old owner of the Inverted Suspension Mountain Plum Garden, Madame Tuoyan.
Zhou Qionglin opened her mouth as if to speak.
She wanted to ask the young sword immortal: What did he want in return for this?
Chen Ping'an finally said, "I need to continue my journey. I won't stay long today. If I pass by here again next time, I'll come to Green Plum Temple empty-handed and beg for a bowl of iced plum soup."
Zhou Qionglin smiled beautifully and nodded lightly. After the figure in green disappeared, she raised the back of her hand to wipe her reddened eyes.
Some warmth strikes deeper than thunder.