Chapter 891: Qingping Sword Sect
Chen Ping'an had deliberately chosen the day of the Beginning of Winter for the ferry to dock at the lower sect. Cui Dongshan had hastily built a few thatched huts near the mountain gate and set out several tables. Between the upper and lower sects, there were nearly thirty people. Cui Dongshan acted like both a shopkeeper and a waiter, busy in the kitchen with Shiqiu. For the Beginning of Winter, there was a bowl of dumplings and a bowl of tonic winter soup, also known as "earth root soup," made from various herbal roots. It was just for good luck, using whatever was locally available, not anything immortal. On each table were dishes of vinegar and soy sauce seasonings, along with a large plate of pickled napa cabbage preserved at the time of Frost Descent.
As for drinks, sorry—if you wanted any, you'd have to conjure it yourself. The lower sect was so poor it clinked.
Five people sat at the main table.
Chen Ping'an, the mountain lord of the upper sect Fallen Mountain.
Changming, the law keeper of Fallen Mountain, whose Dao name was Lingchun.
And three of the highest officials in the lower sect for now: Cui Dongshan, the first sect master; Zhongqiu, in charge of finances; and Cui Wei, the law keeper of the lower sect.
Cui Wei had originally been unwilling to sit at the main table and wanted to give his seat to Mi Yu, who was about to become the lower sect's chief honored guest. But the mountain lord grabbed his arm and wouldn't let go, so Cui Wei had no choice but to accept.
Yu Xiehui, sitting at another table, glanced at Cui Wei and pursed his lips. "Oh, now you get to drink at the same table as the Hidden Officer."
On the Sword Qi Great Wall, that wasn't anything special, but in the Haoran world, it was rare.
Still, Yu Xiehui seemed to have cheered up a little. He picked up a dumpling with his chopsticks, then raised his bowl and took a big gulp of the tonic winter soup.
Cui Wei keenly sensed this change in his personal disciple and looked at the young Hidden Officer. He smiled rarely. Chen Ping'an nodded in acknowledgment—a small matter.
Which child in the world wouldn't hope that their father or teacher was an upright and stalwart man, someone with prestige when out in the world?
Chen Ping'an's batch of personal disciples sat at their own table. Compared to the previous ferry, the only addition was Cao Qinglang.
Cui Dongshan was the last to sit down. He cupped his hands and said, "Inheriting the orthodox lineage, establishing affairs from scratch, short on personnel, working day and night..."
Chen Lingjun asked softly, "Vice Chief Mi, what does that mean?"
Mi Yu shot back, "You're asking me? What do you mean?"
The two livewires stared at each other with wide eyes.
Old Immortal Jia stroked his beard and chuckled. "General Cui means something like this: this lower sect inherits the orthodox lineage of the upper sect, that is, Fallen Mountain. At this early stage of construction, we have few people and scarce resources, so we can't entertain guests properly and may seem somewhat careless. We hope everyone will forgive us. Of course, Master Cui is being overly modest. Just look at this plate of pickled winter cabbage—even the imperial chefs in the palace couldn't do better."
Mi Yu asked curiously, "Brother Jia, have you been inside the palace?"
Chen Lingjun grinned. That was a good question from Sword Immortal Mi.
Jia Sheng laughed. "A true man doesn't brag about past glories. Better not to mention it. Besides, if I talked about that old story, I'd only make a fool of myself."
Chen Lingjun snickered. "Brother Jia, when he was young, he was a scholar who had passed the imperial examinations. He was a Presented Scholar who had feasted at the Qionglin Banquet and even published a poetry collection. Later, he abandoned the pen for the sword, joined the border army, spent years on the battlefield, and earned no small military merit. According to Chief Zhou, he could have had a beautiful posthumous title. But when peace returned to the mortal world, he had an audience with the emperor, then refused everything, hid his merit and fame, and wandered the world. Later, he took on two outstanding disciples, Denggao and Jiuer, and became fast friends with our master, eventually becoming an honored immortal of Fallen Mountain."
Jia Sheng chuckled. "My old secrets are exposed. Please forgive me, Vice Chief Mi."
Chen Ping'an turned and smiled. "Honored Jia, you have such extraordinary past deeds? Why haven't I heard about them before?"
Old Immortal Jia quickly raised his bowl, using the soup as wine. "I have no face to boast of my achievements in front of the mountain lord. Family scandals should not be spread abroad."
This showed how their mountain lord did not suspect those he employed and did not employ those he suspected.
What a "not ordinary" comment! The mountain lord's critique was seasoned and skilled, just three words surpassing a thousand flowery ones.
Chen Ping'an turned to look at a mountain path, vaguely recognizable as the form of a sacred pathway for burning incense and paying respects. "Was the mountain beneath our feet once a site of a nation's Five Sacred Peaks?"
Cui Dongshan nodded with a smile. "Master has keen eyes. Indeed, I went through great trouble to relocate this mountain here. It was very heavy. The peak was the former Southern Sacred Peak of the old Northern Jin Kingdom. The mountain lord's shrine and the golden body of the spirit are both gone—destroyed by the demons in that war. The wild world also scraped it clean, leaving no valuable celestial treasures behind. So now it's just an empty shell. To restore it to its former glory, I have no choice but to pour money into it."
"That's also why the new emperor of Northern Jin was so generous. When I happened to pass by this mountain, I found it pleasing to the eye. Later, I asked the Yao clan of Great Spring to help make connections. Minister of Rites Li Xiling, who is also the current emperor's uncle by marriage, took the trouble to personally accompany me to the Northern Jin capital. It cost me fifty Grain Rain coins. The new ruler was generous and hinted whether I would like to buy all five old sacred peaks. I could have bought them all for two hundred Grain Rain coins. I was almost tempted."
It was similar to Fallen Mountain's dragon boat ink overturn—it might be better to buy a new ferry than to spend great effort and immortal money on repairs. For the new court of Northern Jin, which had a hundred things to rebuild, restoring an ancient sacred peak with broken mountain roots and exhausted water transportation was a bottomless pit that ate money endlessly, so it was especially unappealing. Changing the designation of a sacred peak was ultimately a rigid rule, so it was better to perform a fiefdom ceremony on a new peak, which would also signify a new dynasty's new atmosphere. Regarding the selection of a new sacred peak for Northern Jin, not only had the Dafu Academy already reported it, but the Central Earth Confucian Temple had also given permission.
This meant that the Confucian Temple, in this matter, had opened a precedent for all the nations of Tongye Continent. Since there was now a precedent, the other nations had a guideline to follow.
"But the lower sect's territory is only this small. How could it fit all five sacred peaks of a nation? It would be bloated and crowded. As an additional condition for buying the old sacred peak—because the price was indeed a bit low—I also had to promise the new ruler that the lower sect would give priority to accepting cultivation seeds from Northern Jin within the next hundred years. That emperor is young but bold. When making deals, he's very old hand. Either he's a born businessman, or he has some wise person giving him brilliant strategies. Anyway, you haggle back and forth. After much grinding, I only agreed to an additional condition: 'Within five hundred years, at least three to five slots for personal disciples in the patriarch hall will be reserved for Northern Jin.' In exchange, besides the renovation of the old prefectural city and the construction of the new prefectural city in Northern Jin's future, both will be handled by our lower sect at a fair price. Each gets what they need, and everyone is happy. Additionally, we were given a hundred-year mining rights for all silver mines within Northern Jin. We do the work, the Northern Jin court just sits back and collects money—a ninety-ten split..."
Hearing this, Chen Ping'an finally interjected, "Isn't such a division too much?"
If the lower sect took ninety percent, then of course it was too much. If the lower sect only took ten percent, then Northern Jin was being excessive.
Cui Dongshan laughed. "I also wanted to negotiate an eighty-twenty split, but the new emperor was very shrewd and well-prepared. The Ministry of Revenue had carefully estimated the approximate reserves of those six silver mountain ranges, both obvious and hidden. Even if we only took a ten percent share, it would still be a staggering amount of income. Master, I can guarantee here that within no more than twenty years, the lower sect will become the premier silver bank and banknote exchange on Tongye Continent."
Don't underestimate the silver bank business in the mountains. Since humanity has always lived along rivers and waterways, is there any more business that can attract people than the flow of gold and silver like water?
Cui Dongshan naturally knew that his master understood his intentions and plans.
Nalan Yudie, upon hearing words like "silver" and "sharing money," got excited most easily. She quickly swallowed a dumpling and shouted in approval. The little girl was radiant, her eyes shining.
Cui Dongshan turned and smiled, returning the bow to this little money-grubber.
Now, this little girl's master was none other than the law keeper of Fallen Mountain, Daoist Lingchun!
Chen Ping'an took a sip of tonic winter soup. After Cui Dongshan sat down, he continued, "I've also set my sights on two peaks within the former Southern Qi territory. One is the old Central Sacred Peak, and the other is the Crown Prince Mountain of the old Western Sacred Peak. They're both decent enough. But it's chaotic there now, unlike the lingering ties of Northern Jin. The dynasty's reign is broken. The new emperor is from a consort clan, not legitimate, and is constantly annoyed by a bunch of former dynasty loyalists. Upheaval seethes both at court and among the people. It won't be stable for at least three to five years. Even if I want to take advantage of the chaos, I have to worry about getting mud all over my pants and ending up in a no-win situation. So after much thought, I think it's not worth it. We'll wait until the situation stabilizes. For now, any alliance I sign might just become a scrap of paper the next day."
Great Spring Dynasty bordered two nations: Northern Jin and Southern Qi. The former at least continued the dynastic line. As for the old Southern Qi capital, it had early on become a camp for a demon army from the wild world. All the mountain and water spirits and gods within the nation, including city gods and land spirits, had been occupied by the demons, with countless golden bodies of statues smashed. So when the new emperor ascended the throne and established a new reign name, he preferred to set up his capital and hold ceremonies in a prefectural city rather than ascend the throne in the old capital—he considered it unlucky and abandoned it outright. Over the past two years, patching together funds and borrowing a large debt from the Yao clan of Great Spring, while secretly giving up many interests, he only managed to start rebuilding a new capital at the end of last year. With one misstep, he could even become a vassal state of the Great Spring Yao clan.
Cui Dongshan was not a great lord of the Five Sacred Peaks like Wei Bo, nor was he handling peaks within his own jurisdiction. He didn't have the innate divine ability of the Moving Mountain Ancestor either. So relocating this old sacred peak cost Cui Dongshan a lot of energy and wealth. He first had to set up a grand formation encompassing the entire mountain range, then employ the Buddhist mustard-seed technique, and finally practically carry the mountain northward. So for at least half the mountainous journey, Cui Dongshan couldn't fly—he could only walk.
Learning from the ancient earthly immortals, he moved rivers and carried mountains.
After taking root, he had those talisman puppets, the mountain carriers and fish-gropers, either repair and sew up the mountain roots, or make clouds and rain and gather water transportation within the lower sect's territory.
In the future, when three mountains were relocated here, the lower sect would form a pattern of one main peak and two auxiliary peaks.
After a hearty meal, Cui Dongshan led the way, and the group began climbing to tour the mountain. Cui Dongshan introduced the scenery along the way.
This mountain, formerly one of the Five Sacred Peaks, was not just a solitary peak but an entire mountain range. Cui Dongshan had renamed many of the peaks and ridges. Besides renaming the old sacred peak as Xiandu Mountain, the future ancestral mountain of the lower sect was named after its main peak: Qingping Peak. At the summit, there was also a Fuyiao Flat.
As for the foot of the secondary peak, there was a river, and nearby, Cui Dongshan had named it Luobao Beach.
When Xiaomo heard the name "Luobao Beach," he was startled. Sensing Xiaomo's strangeness behind him, the big white goose walking at the front, swinging its sleeves, said telepathically with a smile, "Brother Xiaomo, don't overthink it. It has nothing to do with that stinky Daoist's Luobao Beach Bixiao Cave in terms of Daoist lineage. I'm just hoping for good fortune."
In the ancient era when humans and demons lived together and there were gods in the sky, beside Luobao Beach was Bixiao Cave. Once he came out of the cave, he was invincible. When he could spare someone, he didn't; when he could yield the way, he didn't.
Back then, any Daoist under heaven, even earthly immortals, would be somewhat intimidated when they met him.
Xiaomo was of course an exception. They hadn't exchanged Daoist skills or sword techniques, but they had a good chat and got along quite well. Xiaomo had even brewed wine together with that green-robed Daoist outside Bixiao Cave on Luobao Beach.
Chen Lingjun walked beside the big white goose, his large sleeves flapping and clattering.
That junior nephew Master Zheng had said, "This is called 'the flying dragon in the sky, clouds and rain abounding; after thunder and rain, there is a hidden roar.'"
Cui Dongshan turned and looked at Old Immortal Jia, then said with a sly smile, "Second Steward, that robe that looks very expensive—why haven't you taken it out and worn it, to bask in the sun and moonlight?"
Old Immortal Jia replied bitterly telepathically, "I have always kept Immortal Master Cui's teachings in mind. I often remind myself that it's easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go from luxury to frugality."
It turned out that the blind Daoist, before leaving the boat, had long taken off that luxurious Daoist robe and changed into the simple attire of the current steward of Qilong Lane.
"The foot of the mountain has its own way, the mountainside has its own logic. Don't be too rigid. Since you've become the second steward of the Fengyuan Ferry, 'clothes make the man, gold makes the Buddha.' You can't always look too shabby. In the future, Old Immortal Jia will need to interact with all kinds of people, and you'll inevitably encounter some snobs. Don't let your attire ruin business."
Cui Dongshan didn't speak telepathically now. Instead, he said with a mischievous grin, "Shabby clothes can be replaced with a magical robe. But if you can't shake off a poverty-stricken air, that's not good."
As a result, the back of Cui Dongshan's head received a slap from his master.
Chen Ping'an scolded, "You're going to be a sect master now. Who taught you to speak with such sarcasm?"
Old Immortal Jia quickly swallowed his saliva, cleared his throat, and said solemnly, "Mountain Lord, Master Cui is absolutely right. If he didn't consider me family, why would he say such good advice that sounds harsh at first?"
Chen Ping'an was silent.
Law Keeper Changming smiled.
Nalan Yudie took out a brush and a bamboo slip from her sleeve and began to record the text.
Earlier, when the young mountain lord went to Qilong Lane to invite Old Immortal Jia out, Jia Sheng had personally cooked a table of dishes to go with wine and called over his two disciples, Zhao Denggao and Tian Jiuer. The old immortal had uncharacteristically said little, only making a few toasts. His toasts, compared to his usual eloquence, were remarkably plain—just thanking the mountain lord for taking in the master and his two disciples back then, giving them a place to settle so they wouldn't have to keep wandering, and thanking Fallen Mountain for its generous treatment over the years, giving them a stable life without any feeling of being dependent. It wasn't just like home—it was home.
Finally, the old Daoist stood up, raised his cup to heaven, earth, and the four directions, and said he had to thank heaven for opening its eyes, allowing him the fortune to come here, to meet Mountain Lord Chen, and to meet everyone at Fallen Mountain.
The group continued climbing higher. Unfortunately, the great timber and immortal materials in the mountain had long been cut down. Countless magnificent halls and Daoist temples lay in ruins, leaving only traces of foundations. Even the cliff carvings hadn't escaped, either erased casually by demon techniques. At a secluded path beside a stream, slightly higher than halfway up the mountain, they had already climbed above the bird paths. The observation pavilions and waterside kiosks on the cliffs had all disappeared. Only white clouds and flying birds slowly passed outside the mountain.
The white-clad boy cupped a handful of water and said with a smile, "Master, this water is good for both brewing wine and boiling tea. This stream doesn't overflow in floods and doesn't dry up in drought. It's one of the few redeeming features of the mountain. And as time goes on, the rank of the stream's water will become higher."
Chen Ping'an nodded with a smile. "I can barely be considered proficient in both brewing wine and boiling tea."
Cui Dongshan tilted his hand and stood up. "In the future, I'll set up a stone tablet near here, collecting calligraphy from a certain someone. I'll engrave a poem about wandering immortals. Write this... Master, how about you compose one impromptu?"
The "certain someone" Cui Dongshan referred to was probably Cui Chan. With so many people around, it wasn't convenient for him to call the old bastard directly.
Upon hearing that the young mountain lord was going to compose a poem, Old Immortal Jia loudly applauded, and Chen Lingjun quickly followed suit.
Nalan Yudie and the fat boy Cheng Zhaolu clapped enthusiastically.
Chen Ping'an's face darkened.
Fortunately, Little Mi wasn't here.
Chen Ping'an turned to look at Xiaomo.
It was a hint: you have a rich collection of books in your heart and can search quickly—take over this matter and help me out. Just piece together a poem about wandering immortals and get it over with.
Xiaomo, who had been smiling somewhat reservedly, mistakenly thought that his master was dissatisfied with his lack of enthusiasm, so he immediately held his walking stick, raised both hands, and clapped gently to show anticipation.
Chen Ping'an moved away first, only leaving a sentence, "Save it for later."
Old Immortal Jia stroked his beard and smiled, whispering to Xiaomo, "The mountain lord must have a plan in mind."
Actually, Chen Ping'an already had a draft. Who couldn't just make up a few doggerel poems? But with Mr. Fu and his student Cao Qinglang present, Chen Ping'an was ultimately too embarrassed to show off.
Xiaomo began searching through the books in his heart—green verses and ornate poems about wandering immortals were abundant. He nodded and said, "Ancient trees reaching the sky frame cloud houses; the true immortal's spiritual traces are named Xiandu."
Old Immortal Jia thought for a moment and nodded. "Brother Xiaomo cleverly borrows Ding Yanling's poem to start—quite fitting."
Cui Dongshan put his hands behind his head and said with a smile, "My mountain rises three thousand feet from the ground, towering green for ten thousand years."
Near the summit, Cui Dongshan said telepathically, "Master, the seating arrangement back at the mountain gate was a bit different from Fallen Mountain's."
Cui Dongshan's arrangement followed Haoran's rules, so it didn't seem much like Fallen Mountain.
Chen Ping'an said with a smile, "I've already promised you. Handle the lower sect's affairs as you see fit. I won't interfere much."
In Fallen Mountain, there was a harmonious atmosphere with a heavy personal touch. The cultivation levels of qi refiners and martial artists didn't mean much, so naturally, there wasn't much emphasis on primary and secondary distinctions, seniority, or closeness.
But Chen Ping'an didn't think the lower sect had to copy the upper sect in everything.
Unless one day he felt that something was wrong with the lower sect, only then would he break the rule and have the final say.
At the summit's Fuyiao Flat, Chen Ping'an took out two items and handed them to Cui Dongshan. "Consider this an early congratulatory gift. There will be another gift at the celebration."
A couplet given by Wu Shuangjiang.
Twelve flying swords from Yuban City of the Cloud Pattern Dynasty.
The white-clad boy put them into his sleeve and bowed to his master in thanks.
As for the cave heaven obtained from Tian Wan, it hadn't yet "landed." Cui Dongshan also had interlocking mountain and water layouts.
Chen Ping'an remembered something and asked Cui Dongshan with a smile, "Zhu Lian's sword technique is actually very powerful?"
Because last time when the old temple master visited Fallen Mountain, he stopped at the mountain gate and just drank tea. He chatted with Zhu Lian, a "hometown person" from the same blessed land, and asked about Zhu Lian's sword technique. Zhu Lian had even asked if he would choose nine sword immortal seeds as disciples. A great cultivator at the Fourteen Realm would never casually speak without basis.
Back when Chen Ping'an stumbled into the lotus depths, he only heard that Zhu Lian had two nicknames: Martial Madman and Noble Son. At most, he knew that the old cook's first journey through the martial world was with a sword, and he had left behind a bunch of romantic debts.
Cui Dongshan said, "Zhu Lian's sword technique is worthy of the word 'outstanding.' He is the culmination of sword techniques across successive eras in one world before Ding Ying of the blessed land. It's like a solitary peak rising above a mountain range."
Chen Ping'an asked doubtfully, "Then why have I never seen Zhu Lian practice the sword?"
Instead, every time he saw Little Black Char practicing that crazy demon sword technique, the old cook was the most enthusiastic and supportive, almost too flattering.
Cui Dongshan smiled. "Probably because the old cook feels that practicing the sword just isn't interesting anymore."
Chen Ping'an sighed. "Comparisons are odious."
Far away was Zhu Lian, close at hand was his disciple Pei Qian, and now nearby was Chai Wu.
Cui Dongshan didn't stay long at Fuyiao Flat. He soon took his leave and led the lower sect people down the mountain to continue their work. Now everyone had clear duties and heavy workloads.
Cui Dongshan also dragged along Lu Baixiang and his two disciples.
For all matters in the lower sect, Cui Dongshan handled them personally. The upper sect, Fallen Mountain, was like just giving the sect a quota.
Chen Ping'an watched the retreating figures of Lu Baixiang and his two disciples. From the ferry meeting until now, Yuan Bao had never looked at Cao Qinglang even once.
Then there was no need to guess. It had to be true, just as Little Mi, the ear-reporter, had said.
But in such matters, what could outsiders do except know and pretend not to know?
Chen Ping'an looked at a neighboring peak close to Qingping Peak. It seemed to have been taken by Sui Youbian. She had named its summit, similar to Fuyiao Flat, Saohua Terrace.
The wind blew through the empty forest, rustling as if someone were there.
One trip of the Fengyuan Ferry across continents, if docking time wasn't counted, took about a month each way. But they had to stop at seventeen mountain ferry ports along the way to load and unload goods, which caused some delays. So each round trip was roughly two months, and three trips a year took half a year. In the past, the cross-continent ferries that did business with the Sword Qi Great Wall usually made two round trips to Daoxuan Mountain each year.
Before the old temple master left Fallen Mountain, he only made one request, which Cui Dongshan and Zhu Lian were to convey to Chen Ping'an: The survival of Tongye Continent's Golden Summit Temple didn't matter, but Shao Yuanran had to be kept alive.
In other words, no matter how Fallen Mountain fought with the Golden Summit Temple, even if the latter lost all its people and its patriarch hall was dismantled, it didn't matter. But Shao Yuanran could not be harmed. The true Daoist lineage of the Golden Summit Temple could not be broken. And the Golden Summit Temple's Daoist orthodoxy was extremely obscure, traceable back to the "Lousguan School" of "building a tower out of grass to observe stars and watch the clouds."
Chen Ping'an's and Cui Dongshan's original plan was to choose a location for the lower sect that occupied the position of "Tianquan," the junction between the ladle body and handle, not only to protect Peace Mountain but also to completely disrupt the Golden Summit Temple's layout of "seven visible and two hidden."
Now that Cui Dongshan had chosen this place to establish the sect, Du Hanling of the Golden Summit Temple would probably be somewhat relieved.
But in the future, since the two would be half-neighbors, it remained to be seen whether Du Hanling would come personally to offer congratulations or send the temple's chief honored guest, Lu Ying, to probe.
Mi Yu found Chen Ping'an and said softly, "Hidden Officer, I have an immature suggestion."
Chen Ping'an said irritably, "Immature? Then come talk to me when it's mature."
Mi Yu was at a loss for words.
First there was Caique Manor, then there was Zhucha Island. Chen Ping'an hadn't settled those accounts with Sword Immortal Mi yet.
They had corrupted the atmosphere of Fallen Mountain.
Mi Yu steeled himself and said, "I want Xiaomo to serve as the chief honored guest of the lower sect. I'll keep my status as vice chief of Fallen Mountain and stay here to cultivate. I won't slack off in any effort where I'm needed."
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "That won't work for now. Xiaomo and I have an agreement. He serves as my retainer for a set number of years. His current status as honored guest is just a cover. When the agreed period ends, then there will be a real decision on whether Xiaomo stays or leaves."
Mi Yu said, "With Xiaomo's temperament and how well he gets along with Fallen Mountain—"
Chen Ping'an still shook his head. "The matter is one thing, but the principle is another."
Mi Yu was sincerely convinced. "No wonder when I got to the Spring Fan Studio, I could only be a door god at the accounting office."
"Mi Yu has always been the 'Mi Waistbreaker' on the Sword Qi Great Wall."
Chen Ping'an added, "And also the top fighter of our Summer Retreat Palace."
If Pei Qian had a headache when meeting Guo Zhujiu, then Sword Immortal Mi had an even bigger headache thinking about those brilliant young sword cultivators in the Summer Retreat Palace. Their words were too savage. Things like "unmatched sword art and talent," "Sword Immortal Mi achieves another great merit," "two champions of Jade Pure and Flower Grottoes"...
Chen Ping'an suddenly said, "Did Chief Zhou ever invite you to Flower God Mountain in the Cloud Grotto Blessed Land? Have you heard of Rouge Chart?"
Mi Yu said firmly, "Never invited, never heard of!"
Chen Ping'an laughed. "Little Mi says otherwise. She not only said you're good at poetry contests and have a broad literary talent, but also swore confidently that you would do your utmost to help Chief Zhou's Rouge Chart rankings at Flower God Mountain."
Mi Yu looked helpless and started playing dumb.
Sword Immortal Mi had just left when Chen Lingjun followed behind.
Chen Lingjun probed, "Master, can I talk to you about something?"
Chen Ping'an asked with a smile, "Because of your amazing talent and hard work, you're about to break through again? Planning another river walk?"
Chen Lingjun was speechless.
He had shamelessly followed the Fengyuan Ferry south to Tongye Continent with some selfish motives, but it was hard to speak up.
Chen Ping'an said directly, "Don't think about becoming the mountain-guarding honored guest of the lower sect. I've already discussed it with Dongshan. We plan to have Hong Xia serve as the right guardian of the lower sect's ancestral mountain."
Chen Lingjun scratched his head and said he understood.
He was a little disappointed, but nothing serious. A bit of sorrow could be fixed with a meal of wine.
The candidates for the lower sect's mountain-guarding honored guest included not only Hong Xia, who had successfully walked the river and transformed into a dragon at the Nascent Soul realm, but also Pei Xiang, the lord of Fox Kingdom. The latter was still undecided.
Chen Ping'an reached out and pressed the head of the green-clad boy, gently shaking it, and said with a smile, "When you break into the Jade Pure realm someday, I'll make you the left guardian of Fallen Mountain. Isn't that also a mountain-guarding honored guest? And a bigger official."
Chen Lingjun's head wobbled, a bit dizzy.
Chen Ping'an said frankly, "This matter was strongly recommended by Little Mi, seconded by Pei Qian, and Warm Tree didn't oppose it. Since you've gained such popularity, I agreed."
Who didn't know that the bamboo tower lineage of Fallen Mountain was the most favored in the mountain lord's eyes and had the most say?
Chen Lingjun suddenly realized. No wonder that silly girl Warm Tree had inexplicably sought him out not long ago and said some foolish things about him cultivating properly and not letting down the mountain lord's high hopes.
Chen Lingjun nodded vigorously. "Master, rest assured a thousand times over. I'll break through early."
Chen Ping'an reminded him, "'Slow matters, handle quickly' means don't procrastinate. 'Urgent matters, handle slowly' means be steady and make no mistakes."
Chen Lingjun grinned. "When I get back, I'll have Yudie record that on a bamboo slip and put it on the desk at Fallen Mountain as my motto."
A green-robed figure stood with hands tucked in sleeves, a gentle expression. A green-clad boy crossed his arms, brows raised.
This was their lower sect.
Cui Dongshan, Immortal realm.
Zhongqiu, peak of Far Roaming realm martial artist.
Cui Wei, Nascent Soul sword cultivator. His personal disciple, sword cultivator Yu Xiehui.
Cao Qinglang, Dragon Gate qi refiner, about to become a Core Formation expert.
Chief honored guest Mi Yu, bottlenecked at Jade Pure realm sword cultivator. That bottleneck was bottomless; breaking through was still far off. Breaking into Jade Pure was hard, which was why Mi Yu had made a fool of himself on the Sword Qi Great Wall. Now breaking the Jade Pure bottleneck was even harder.
Lower sect patriarch hall registered qi refiners: Sui Youbian, Nascent Soul sword cultivator. She would take her senior disciple Cheng Zhaolu to occupy a mountain peak for cultivation, which she personally named Saohua Terrace.
Yu Xiehui and Cheng Zhaolu, both sword immortal seeds from the Sword Qi Great Wall, were the first disciples of their respective masters.
Shao Poxian, a remnant of the old Zhuying Dynasty, from the Dugu clan of Zhuying, an incognito crown prince, Nascent Soul sword cultivator. This was why the Central Sacred Peak mountain lord Jin Qing had shown such extraordinary respect to Fallen Mountain, making concessions to Cui Dongshan and then to Chen Ping'an over the sale of their own mountain territory, and in the end, almost giving money to Fallen Mountain.
His maid Meng Long, Observing Sea realm. From the Meng clan, a top noble family of the old Zhuying Dynasty.
Shiqiu, Cave Dwelling realm.
Two earthly immortal ghosts residing in "talisman skins," a Daoist couple who had lived and died together. On the ferry, they had been dutiful and taciturn.
And the three fallen qi refiners from Shuyi Tower of Yuzhigang. They were temporarily acting as guest elders of the lower sect. Yuzhigang wanted to restore its incense and Daoist lineage, which was as difficult as reaching the sky. Nowadays, the immortal clans of Tongye Continent looked at the catastrophe that destroyed Yuzhigang's sect with a uniform view, summarized in eight words: "Opening the door to invite the robbers, blaming no one but themselves."
So at today's gathering, the three former disciples of Shuyi Tower did not appear.
Chen Ping'an didn't ask why. He left all the lower sect's affairs, big or small, to Cui Dongshan.
Additionally, there was the Fengyuan Ferry connecting the upper and lower sects.
It had a chief steward, Law Keeper Changming; a second steward, Jia Sheng; an accountant, Zhang Jiazhen; and a little abacus, Nalan Yudie.
The Fengyuan Ferry would continue south, passing through Taoye Ferry and Yugui Sect in Great Spring Dynasty until it reached Qushan Ferry at the southernmost tip of Tongye Continent.
Chen Ping'an didn't take the ferry for distant travel. Instead, he took Xiaomo, Pei Qian, and Cao Qinglang and flew south to wander. It wasn't sightseeing—otherwise, Chen Ping'an wouldn't have left behind Guo Zhujiu, Zhao Shuxia, and Zhao Luan.
Chen Ping'an had private intentions and care for each of his personal disciples, but his actions couldn't be biased.
It was only because Cao Qinglang was the undeniable candidate for the next sect master. Their lower sect was a "crossing river dragon" that had come from the upper sect to Tongye Continent in the south, so they needed to get acquainted early with some local powers in Tongye Continent. Moreover, he had promised Huang Yiyun of Pusan Mountain Cloud Grass Hall back at Chief Zhou's Cloud Grotto Blessed Land that he would visit with his disciple Pei Qian.
Besides the Rain-Praying Chapter immortal technique and the Cloud Water Body learned from the Nine True Immortal Pavilion, Chen Ping'an had already taught them to Cao Qinglang and Zhao Luan, and of course to Chai Wu. But to that little girl who drank at least half a catty of liquor every day, he had Xiaomo teach her instead. Chen Ping'an truly couldn't teach her.
Before departing, Guo Zhujiu smiled and asked the senior sister, "Do you want me to come along for the distant journey?"
Pei Qian said, "Of course I do."
Guo Zhujiu waved a hand. "Then consider me taken along. I can lie at home without leaving the house and still gain a free trip through the martial world. What a deal."
What could Pei Qian do? She was speechless.
Regarding the portrait hanging in the lower sect's patriarch hall, Cui Dongshan had mentioned his idea during the climb. He planned to invite a friend from the Central Earth Divine Continent, a master of painting famous for his portraits, to paint a picture of their master.
This painter was a master of painting and color, known as Gu Xiaqiu, as famous as Wu Daoxuan. Both were respectfully called "painting sages" in the Haoran world, each with their own merits. One was meticulous and realistic, exquisite in Haoran; the other was brilliant and freehand, capturing the spirit. The former, like Bai Ye, came from the same dynasty and was close in age. Before entering the mountains to cultivate, Old Master Wu had long been hailed as "before the age of twenty, already exhausting the wonders of painting." The emperor even issued a decree that he should not paint without an imperial order, for fear that "his spirit would dissipate, alarming the nation's spirits." As for the latter, his painting skill, especially the finishing touch, was described by Zheng Juzhong of White Emperor City as "never seen since the beginning of life."
Both excelled in painting immortals, Buddhas, spirits, and ghosts. So it was a great honor for temples and Daoist observatories in the Central Earth Divine Continent to invite one of these painting sages to paint murals.
The portrait of the Sage of Literature that once hung in all the Confucian Temples across the world was painted by Old Master Wu.
The old scholar was quite satisfied at first, but now he was less so. During two journeys—one to the Maihe Biyou Palace on Tongye Continent and the other to the Spring Mountain Academy on Vase Bottle Continent—he hadn't been recognized immediately. This showed that the portrait, while resembling the real person, somehow lacked a certain spirit that could only be felt but not painted.
So this time, after returning to the Central Earth Divine Continent, the old scholar found the painting sage and patted him on the shoulder. Sighing, with a resentful look, he said, "Since we're friends, I won't say much. After all, I came to you myself back then to ask for a portrait, so I can't blame anyone. Hurry up, bring some wine. Let's soak a bit of our grudge in the wine and laugh it off."
The old master was so angry that he tilted his head and slapped his own cheek. "This thing? Where did it go? Was it snatched away by someone?"
In fact, Cui Dongshan had already sent two portraits of his master to that old Gu.
One was from when his master was a youth on Osmanthus Island, and the other was when the young Hidden Officer participated in the Confucian Temple council.
If old Gu dared to be perfunctory, dared to paint poorly, unlike, not enough resemblance, then Cui Dongshan would not consider their friendship.
Cui Dongshan also had one requirement: his master must be depicted in a green robe with a sword on his back.
Under a clear sky, amidst towering mountains, wind blustering, white waters rushing, in surging clouds and seas, above mighty rivers, a green robe took the lead, flying far away, two large sleeves flapping loudly.
Overlooking the mortal world, mountains and rivers.
The group occasionally stopped to stroll leisurely.
A young official from a river management office, in worn-out official robes with frostbitten hands, was being scolded by an old man who looked like a river worker, calling him a complete mess.
A place of feasting and drinking, where cups floated along winding streams. Literary men chanted poems, and women immediately set them to music, singing them endlessly. Delicate hands strummed sandalwood clappers, orioles sang and swallows danced—a scene of peace and prosperity.
A minor official from the Ministry of Works' Materials Estimation Office, carrying a register document, galloped there, dismounted, and hurried in, asking to see the chief officer. The gatekeeper wouldn't let him pass. The official begged in vain and was told, "Get lost!" The travel-worn official had no choice but to squat by the roadside, staring eagerly at the gate, waiting for the chief officer to finish his drinking and return to the capital. He only hoped that the chief officer, from a family of high officials for generations, wouldn't get so drunk today that he passed out.
A place of beautiful scenery. Water was like a black silk ribbon; mountains were like jade hairpins. Evening mist hung heavy around deep trees; slanting sunlight lingered leisurely over high towers.
Mountain immortals were busy everywhere, rebuilding the patriarch hall. They had hired a Daoist master skilled in painting to paint five colored dragons on the beams of the new patriarch hall. The finishing touches to the eyes hadn't been added yet, but the dragons already showed a majestic aura of "scales flying, about to rain and produce mist."
For hundreds of miles around, people were digging mountains and quarrying stone. Nearby counties and towns were spending money to buy old timber and beams from former government offices and abandoned estates. Carriages loaded with exotic flowers, antique treasures, and curiosities were converging on this mountain from all directions.
Taking advantage of the crowd dispersing from the patriarch hall, a green robe led the way, sneaking in stealthily.
Pei Qian had once passed by this place and chatted with an old immortal master buying wine in the market outside the mountain.
This mountain's immortal clan had chosen not to leave their homeland for the Colorful World, so many of their registered qi refiners had died.
Using water techniques and talismans, Chen Ping'an added the finishing touch to a black dragon on the beam. It almost transformed and flew away, like a true immortal ascending.
Then he pressed two fingers together on the black dragon's forehead, gently dotting it, giving it a portion of pure water transportation before letting it return to the beam.
In the night.
Above the undulating mountain peaks, a large canopy bed flew through the air, as big as a pavilion, intricately carved, magnificently ornate.
Like the traveling procession of a feudal lord in the mortal officialdom, there were two groups of low-ranking officials and clerks born from spirits and ghosts, with a clearance envoy in front ringing gongs to clear the way, warning the idle to step aside and keep silence on both sides. Behind them, for the "carriage," two rows of peacock feather fans, large umbrellas, and flags were raised high.
Ahead on the "road," several figures suddenly stopped, arced slightly, and landed on a mountaintop off the route.
A woman rolled up a book and used it to lift the curtain. She frowned slightly and looked down at a nearby mountaintop.
Those outsider qi refiners looked unfamiliar and didn't seem like ordinary cultivators.
After hesitating, she decided not to cause any trouble. She let the curtain fall and told her attendants to continue on their way.
Xiaomo saw the book in the hand of that mountain god's wife and said with a smile, "That's the 'Twenty-Four Flower Bloom Seal Score.' It came from a certain supreme guest elder of a Hundred Flowers Blessed Land. According to a report from the Spring Longevity Palace, it's on the same list as your 'Hundred Sword Immortal Seal Score,' but its rank is far lower than yours."
Chen Ping'an was baffled. "What list?"
Xiaomo explained, "It's a fresh ranking from some immortal temple in the Baibai Continent. They selected the best seal scores of the past thousand years. Your 'Hundred Sword Immortal Seal Score' ranks third. It seems they've also printed ten seal scores together, and they're selling very well both on and off the mountains."
Pei Qian whispered, "That's really underhanded. Someday, if Master travels to Baibai Continent, you should go collect payment."
Chen Ping'an laughed it off.
Since they had stopped here, Chen Ping'an decided to pull Xiaomo and the other two to light a fire and cook.
Cao Qinglang asked, "Master, have you thought of a name for the lower sect?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Yes. Dongshan thought of it. It's excellent."
Only Cao Qinglang didn't drink among the group.
Even when Chen Ping'an pulled rank as his master, it didn't work.
Good. As expected of my proud student—has his own opinion.
Then he looked at Pei Qian. She had a good capacity for liquor. Also good. She hadn't wasted those journeys through the martial world.
Because Cao Qinglang didn't drink, Chen Ping'an naturally thought of the wine table invincible Liu Jinglong of the Taihui Sword Sect. He had to send a flying sword message immediately to remind Liu Jinglong, when traveling to the lower sect's celebration, to stop at the Great Li capital and give some guidance on formations to Han Zhoujin, a formation master of the Earthly Branch lineage. As for Han Zhoujin, he had already contacted her. He believed that when Liu Jinglong arrived at that immortal inn, he would go with high spirits and get drunk without returning.
Liu Jinglong, it seems my friends aren't as good as your friends.
A moon hung at the sky's edge, mountain winds blew steadily. Chen Ping'an held his wine bowl, looked up at the bright moon, then lowered his head and raised it again, draining a bowl of wine. He had already figured out how to make the name of that stream in their Xiandu Mountain known: "The full moon in the sky, the second spring on earth." As for the first and third springs, he didn't know. Let whoever wanted fight over them.
Pei Qian asked, "Master, what's the name of the lower sect?"
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Let me keep you in suspense. I'll tell you later."
Before leaving Fuyiao Flat, Cui Dongshan had telepathically suggested the name: "Qingping Sword Sect."
But Cui Dongshan had added, "Master definitely has a better name. Consider this student's suggestion as casting a brick to attract jade."
Chen Ping'an thought it was excellent—already the best. So he unhesitatingly abandoned his own backup names.
The swordsman, tipsy, glares askance at the drunken land; the Daoist heart is vast, the world is small. The universe is narrow, the wine cup is wide; the past and present are short, the spirit is long. Only I smile, stroking my green duckweed sword, the three-foot blade in my hand, never betraying my life's journey.