Chapter 905: The Home That Never Grows Up

Chapter 905: The Home That Never Grows Up

Around the New Year, another heavy snow fell, countless flakes like shattered jade.

A military ferry of the Great Spring Dynasty had already traveled far beyond the northern border. In a few more hours, it would reach the Immortal Capital Mountain Ferry.

An old man draped in a worn, heavy fox-fur robe had been journeying north by boat. Occasionally, he would leave his cabin and walk to the railing, gazing at the winding mountains and rivers amidst the wind and snow.

"To test the signs of a bountiful year, drifting fairy fluff arrives."

No longer was it the bleak scene of barren fields below the mountain, countless bones, and only apes climbing withered vines and cranes gazing at broken monuments.

Alongside the ferry, a figure in blue robes suddenly coalesced from clouds and water, hovering in the wind and snow.

Azure long gown, a jade hairpin in his bun, twin scabbarded knives at his waist, treading empty air, matching the ferry's pace.

This blue-robed blade artist, appearing without warning beside the ferry, seemed to stroll leisurely through the sky but moved as swiftly as a hawk or falcon.

"Swift as a thousand-li steed, his spirit rivals ten thousand foes."

Liu Zong emerged from the cabin, walked to the bow deck, leaned on the railing, and waved with a smile: "Brother Chen!"

This chief retainer of the Great Spring Yao Clan made a military gesture, signaling the retinue and armored warriors on the ferry not to be alarmed—it was one of their own.

After Chen Ping'an landed on the ferry, he called out, "Old Brother Liu."

The short old man stroked his beard and smiled. Hearing Chen Ping'an's address, the blade sharpener Liu Zong looked quite pleased. This was like attracts like. Recalling those days, he too had been a handsome and dashing young lad.

In his hometown's martial world, when he was young, he carried a horn-handled knife. He wouldn't say he was invincible, but close enough—he was unstoppable, rarely meeting his match.

As long as those stronger than him didn't block his way, he was unbeatable.

Countless heroes of the martial world, upon seeing me, Liu Zong, who wouldn't give a thumbs up? How many nobles and officials wanted me as their honored guest? How many women's hearts did I capture, making them silently repeat my nickname in their minds?

"Little Zhu Lian!"

The ferry had three decks. Liu Zong led Chen Ping'an to the top floor, where the old General Yao was resting.

Chen Ping'an asked curiously, "This is a cross-continent ferry, isn't it? Did Great Spring build it yourself?"

Regarding cross-continent ferries, Chen Ping'an dared say he had seen no less than forty or fifty.

This ferry was only slightly smaller than the Wind Kite Ferry. Compared to those docked at Inverted Suspension Mountain from various continents, this one could be considered medium-sized.

Liu Zong used sound condensation to speak to Chen Ping'an, revealing secrets without much caution: "It was half-purchased, half-built. Back then, many extraordinary people gathered in Mirage City. About half were retained by His Majesty. Among them were a few registered immortal masters who had connections with other continents.

"In previous years, His Majesty asked someone to help make connections, and at a high price, bought some construction blueprints from White Ice Continent. You've heard of that Wusunlan ferry, right? It usually docks at the southernmost Drive Mountain Ferry, escorted by the great sword immortal Xu Xie. Ours is the same design, just heavily modified in appearance."

"His Majesty is extremely bold. Besides this 'Deer Holding Lingzhi,' we plan to build two more new cross-continent ferries—keep one and sell one. The money for the blueprints will be recouped from some deep pocket. The names are already chosen: 'Eyebrow Moon' and 'Thunder Chariot.'"

"Previously, the daughter of the Ten Thousand Yao Sect's sect leader, Han Yushu, said their Three Mountains Blessed Land was interested in buying, but for some reason, there hasn't been any recent movement. In the north, the Golden Peak Temple also showed some interest, but their price was lower—fully thirty percent less—but the Golden Peak Temple's Daoist Bao Zhen, Yin Miaofeng, and his disciple Shao Yuanran were both first-rank retainers of Great Spring. There's that bond of incense fire. If the Ten Thousand Yao Sect keeps delaying without giving a proper reason, given His Majesty's temper, the 'Thunder Chariot' will probably be sold to the Golden Peak Temple."

Chen Ping'an deliberately skipped over the Ten Thousand Yao Sect, made a rough calculation in his mind, and nodded: "Keeping two ferries for Great Spring is very safe. Use one for north-south trade, connecting the northern Vase Bottle Continent and North Beigulu Continent, and possibly even sail as far as White Ice Continent's northern ice fields. For example, Great Spring can see if there's a chance to cooperate with the White Ice Continent Liu Clan to mine the ice fields' resources. The other ferry can go to the Central Continent or Fuyao Continent. The sooner you have private ferries, the better. You can finalize alliance terms with sects and major dynasties along the routes as early as possible, with as long a term as possible."

Currently, seventy to eighty percent of the existing cross-continent ferries owned by Righteousness's sects had been temporarily borrowed or requisitioned by the Central Confucian Temple—effectively "confiscated" for now.

So there weren't many ferries left that could cross land and sea. Therefore, whoever owned such a ferry would find it easier to make money than before. It was like having a few strong stones on a Go board, most capable of building thick influence and then taking territory.

Liu Zong chuckled: "Great minds think alike. Should I pass these words on to His Majesty?"

Chen Ping'an smiled: "Old Brother Liu, so many years have passed, and you're still at the Golden Body Realm. That's not good. When we reach Immortal Capital Mountain, how about we have a spar?"

Knowing full well the other was changing the subject, Liu Zong still laughed angrily: "Insulting people without exposing their shortcomings, hitting without slapping faces—still talking about martial world ethics?"

It was simply that the new body given by the old temple master—as a reward for climbing the city wall and striking the heavenly drum—was too good. So good that Liu Zong, having left Lotus Flower Blessed Land for years, had yet to break through.

Breaking the bottleneck of the Golden Body Realm was as difficult as a Qi refiner advancing from Nascent Soul to the Upper Fifth Realm. This had frustrated Liu Zong so much that he often drank alone these years.

He heard that that Confucian Master Zhong from the Southern Garden Kingdom was already at the bottleneck of the Far Traveling Realm.

As for how Brother Chen beside him was doing, why compare? It was like a younger generation having achievements—enough to be happy about.

Because on the ferry were the old General Yao Zhen and the Prince Yao Xianzhi, who served as the capital's prefect, besides the blade sharpener Liu Zong personally escorting them, there were also several earthly immortal Qi refiners, none daring to be careless.

As for whether there were hidden experts, Chen Ping'an deliberately didn't probe—after all, this wasn't the Little Dragon Falls.

Chen Ping'an just bent his fingers and lightly tapped the stair railing. It seemed to be made of some immortal wood; the sound was metallic.

The Hemp-Clad Sect's cross-continent ferry at Skeleton Beach had always been a source of income for Fallen Mountain, and almost half the ferry could be said to belong to the Chen family.

The reason it hadn't been requisitioned to go to sea as a "convoy" was that the Central Continent upper sect had long since voluntarily handed over a ferry to the Confucian Temple.

So after returning to Righteousness, Chen Ping'an hadn't thought much about it. But last time in the Merit Forest, after his teacher drank and got happy, he accidentally let it slip.

If the Hemp-Clad Sect were only a subordinate sect, they could barely keep one cross-continent ferry. But as one of the sects of North Beigulu Continent, each continent had its quota. North Beigulu actually lacked one on the Confucian Temple side, so the Hemp-Clad Sect seemed to have to hand over their ferry. Then Mao Xiaodong, who had been promoted to the Rites School's academic secretary, somehow suggested that the Qionglin Sect, which had already handed over two cross-continent ferries, should give up another. After all, they were wealthy—even if they handed over three, they would still have one left.

That was a small internal meeting of the Confucian Temple, attended only by the three principal and vice leaders of the Confucian Temple, the libationers and academic secretaries of the three schools, and a handful of accompanying sages. No academy heads attended.

The tall school academic secretary Mao Xiaodong's remark left the entire room silent.

The great libationer of the Rites School had no choice but to bravely second his academic secretary's proposal, and then there were no objections. The agenda was tacitly passed.

At that time, the old scholar hadn't yet been restored to his Confucian Temple position, so naturally he wasn't present.

What did the Rites Saint lineage's school's righteous words have to do with our Wen Saint lineage?

Sword cultivators had the custom of "asking swords," and the old scholar's "asking wine" was also a marvel of Righteousness.

At the stairway entrance, the old general said with a smile: "I wanted to surprise you."

Yao Xianzhi, with one arm, was holding the fox-fur robe. The old man was stubborn, saying that if he got cold just walking these few steps, what kind of long journey was that?

The old man's little trick was just not admitting he was old. Prefect Yao pretended not to know.

Yao Jinzhi laughed: "This is called there's always a stronger hand."

Before, an empty sleeve would hang down his side. Now the prefect had simply tied the sleeve in a knot, as if telling everyone, "I'm missing an arm. Laugh if you want."

It turned out the old general had deliberately said the trip would take two days longer.

Obviously, Chen Ping'an, upon receiving the flying sword message from the Yao residence, immediately left seclusion and rushed to Mirage City, intending to personally escort the ferry to Immortal Capital Mountain.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have encountered the Deer Holding Lingzhi halfway.

Chen Ping'an quickly climbed the stairs.

The old general grabbed his arm and smiled: "Come, have a few drinks?"

Chen Ping'an nodded: "But no more than a few."

Liu Zong didn't follow. Who didn't know that in the old general's eyes, Chen Ping'an was half like a grandson, or half like a grandson-in-law of the Yao residence?

Inside the room was a large brazier. Yao Xianzhi was warming the wine.

Chen Ping'an bent down and sat on a long bench, picked up the fire tongs, and gently stirred the charcoal. He asked, "Still haven't found Yao Lingzhi's 'Famous Spring' blade?"

Probably knowing the old general's temper and habits, the ferry crew had deliberately decorated this room as simply and plainly as possible.

As the prefect in charge, Yao Xianzhi pursed his lips: "Difficult. No clues at all. But we did dig up a lot of unsavory things."

The old man smiled: "Finally starting to look like a real prefect. Losing a blade is nothing."

Yao Xianzhi said gloomily: "Grandfather, that's easy for you to say. The prefectural office mobilized so many people and got nowhere. I can't let it go."

"I'm not standing; I'm sitting when I say that."

The old man continued, "Besides, you're no longer young, and still a bachelor. Bad waist? No wonder you didn't dare go to the pleasure quarters when drinking in your early years."

Yao Xianzhi, habitually reaching out to warm himself by the fire, immediately flushed red. He looked up and complained: "Grandfather, can we not talk about this in front of Mr. Chen?"

Chen Ping'an suddenly said: "I noticed earlier. On the ferry, there's a female retainer. Not old, but not low in realm. She was standing on the second deck, and the way she looked at Xianzhi... hmm, there's a spark. No mistake."

The old man raised an eyebrow, intrigued: "Oh? There's something like that?"

Any Great Spring cultivator serving on this ferry must have been to the battlefield.

Yao Xianzhi said helplessly: "Mr. Chen, there's nothing of the sort. Don't make things up."

He knew which woman Mr. Chen meant. As the prefect, he had personally reviewed the files of all the army-following cultivators in the capital—backgrounds, immortal genealogy, battlefield records. He knew everything. The girl's name was Liu Yi, her birth name was Yuanyang, her Dao title "Yifu" (Blessed Comfort). She was a native of Great Spring, from a local prefecture's prestigious family. As a child, an earthly immortal had spotted her talent and had her cultivate early. In the early years, on the capital battlefield and in Mirage City, with her Dragon Gate realm cultivation, her Dao techniques, and two precious artifacts inherited from her master, Liu Yi's battle contributions were no less than several Golden Core earthly immortals.

Liu Yi was certainly an outstanding woman. When Yao Xianzhi occasionally walked on the ferry, she never even looked at him sideways.

Right—why would she like a cripple missing an arm?

Besides, Yao Xianzhi really had no feelings for her.

Chen Ping'an said with exasperation: "Would I joke about this?"

The old man pointed at Yao Xianzhi and laughed: "Isn't this like being blind? Tell me, what good are you?!"

Chen Ping'an started adding fuel to the fire, grinning: "Some people become bachelors because they have no choice, but others become bachelors through genuine skill."

The old general inquired about Liu Yi's general situation from Yao Xianzhi. Learning that the female immortal master came from a Great Spring scholarly family—good. Her Dao title "Yifu"—very good. It sounded auspicious. She had dared to leave her master's protection several times to enter danger, and killed monsters to earn merit, ultimately defending Mirage City. When the emperor rewarded her for her service, she only asked for a third-rank retainer position, which was... not so good. The emperor should at least have given her second-rank.

As for Liu Yi being over sixty—what problem was that? A woman's Dao age of sixty years was like a mortal woman's maidenhood.

The old man rubbed his chin and sighed: "I think Xianzhi doesn't deserve that girl."

Chen Ping'an said, "I agree."

Yao Xianzhi smiled bitterly.

The old man laughed heartily, raised a hand, and Chen Ping'an lightly clapped it—perfect understanding.

Taking the bowl of yellow wine from Yao Xianzhi, Chen Ping'an glanced at the old fox-fur robe hanging on the coat rack. He knew its origin—it had been a gift from Great Spring's former emperor Liu Zhen to the border Yao family.

Yao Xianzhi might not think much of it, but if the current emperor of Great Spring saw it, it might make her uncomfortable.

But every family has its hard-to-read scriptures. Chen Ping'an pretended not to know about the subtle twists of human sentiment.

Chen Ping'an remembered something. He took out two red envelopes from his sleeve, each containing a Lesser Heat coin. He had specifically selected two coins with auspicious inscriptions wishing blessings on the younger generation.

He handed the red envelopes to Yao Xianzhi and smiled: "Give these to Yao Lingzhi for her children. Consider it Uncle Chen making up for the New Year's money I've missed all these years."

Yao Lingzhi had long married and now had two children, though they were still young.

Like Chen Ping'an, many mountain cultivators liked to collect various Lesser Heat coins with numerous inscriptions—so-called "spending coins." They were used for furnace-opening, treasury-settling, spring-welcoming, lantern-hanging, birthday-wishing, New Year-celebrating—the inscriptions were diverse. In this regard, Chen Ping'an, after all these years of traveling, had never stopped. He had privately collected six sets of the twelve zodiac "Lesser Heat spending coins," three sets of "Monthly Flower Spirit coins," and one set of "Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits" Lesser Heat coins engraved with the "Jade Mountain" pattern. For this, he had spent a considerable amount of his private money, using his own Grain Rain coins and entrusting them to Fallen Mountain's accountant Wei Wenlong, asking him to keep an eye out for Lesser Heat coins with peculiar inscriptions and buy them whenever encountered.

In this regard, the Liu Wealth God of White Ice Continent was a master. He had collected many peerless unique pieces.

Yao Xianzhi put away the red envelopes and laughed: "When those two kids get this New Year's money, they'll probably go wild."

As their uncle, he had no authority over them. The two children had been strange and clever since childhood, sturdy and wild. They only called him "uncle" sincerely when they wanted to ask about Mr. Chen's mountain-and-water stories.

No, this New Year's, he would make the children kowtow to him several times before handing over the red envelopes.

Yao Zhen casually asked: "Wu Shu isn't on Indus Leaf Continent; he went to Righteousness. That means we only have one Peak Realm martial artist in Pushing Mountain—Huang Yiyun. Have you two met?"

Chen Ping'an nodded: "We've met before. First time at Cloud Cavern Blessed Land. Then some things happened, and Mountain Lord Ye agreed to serve as a nominal guest elder at Immortal Capital Mountain."

Yao Xianzhi was puzzled: "Last time in Mirage City, why didn't you mention it?"

The prefect secretly rejoiced: Hey, in Mr. Chen's subordinate sect, wouldn't I be on equal footing with Huang Yiyun of Pushing Mountain?

Chen Ping'an said with exasperation: "Why would I mention that?"

Old General Yao clicked his tongue: "Now that's a great beauty. On Cloud Cavern Blessed Land's Flower God Mountain Rouge List, if old Sect Leader Jiang hadn't dared to include her, she would have definitely been in the top three. Looks like this trip wasn't in vain."

The old man took a sip of wine and said with a grin: "Can you hold yourself back?"

Chen Ping'an was speechless.

Yao Xianzhi finally found his chance and teased: "If it were me, facing such a country-toppling mountain immortal master, and a female Peak Realm martial artist on top of that, I would definitely lose control and not sleep at night."

Chen Ping'an laughed: "Can't sleep? Tossing and turning, you mean? Be careful not to hurt your waist—that would make things worse. Xianzhi, you're quite a good person. You don't want to harm a girl, afraid she'd be a widow when she marries you?"

Yao Xianzhi almost choked on his wine. He could only take a large gulp of warm yellow wine.

The old man asked with a smile: "Since you're both grandmasters, did you spar?"

Chen Ping'an nodded: "I won."

The old man asked again: "And if you fought that Wu Shu?"

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment and nodded: "I could win."

But it wouldn't be easy. Wu Shu was a Peak Realm martial artist who had trained at the Return to Truth layer for many years. For Chen Ping'an to win, aside from removing all the talisman restrictions on his limbs, he would also need an extra mindset of deciding the outcome, completely unleashing his fists.

Now when Chen Ping'an sparred, he could roughly distinguish four situations.

Suppressing realm, not suppressing realm, whether or not he had talisman restrictions on his body, and the last one: "manifesting true form, the city wall posture."

Liu Zong gently knocked and pushed open the door, rubbing his hands and smiling: "What 'won, could win'?"

Yao Xianzhi poured another bowl of wine for Liu Zong and said: "We were talking about Huang Yiyun and the Martial Saint Wu Shu."

Liu Zong swirled the wine bowl, sniffed the fragrance, turned to look at the blue-robed blade artist who was no longer drinking but warming his hands by the fire, glanced at the stacked scabbard knives at his waist, and asked: "When did your first disciple break through to the Peak Realm?"

Chen Ping'an smiled slightly: "Already there."

Liu Zong downed the wine in one gulp. His old face wrinkled with worry. After a moment's hesitation, he said quietly: "I've actually been wanting to find a chance to spar with Huang Yiyun. But last time at Peach Leaf Ferry, she was there as the Pushing Mountain's mountain lord to discuss official business with His Majesty, so I couldn't bring it up. Now, why go far when we have something close at hand, right?"

Chen Ping'an smiled: "I've been waiting for you to say that, Old Brother Liu."

Liu Zong made a wry face: "I'm only at the Golden Body Realm. I can't cover the distance or travel far. Sparring on the boat isn't suitable either. Let's talk when we reach Immortal Capital Mountain?"

Chen Ping'an said: "No need for that trouble."

In an instant, the scene changed. Only the brazier remained. The four were still sitting around the stove, but aside from that, there was nothing else in heaven and earth.

The four people and the brazier seemed to be treading into the boundless void, as if suspended in an endless, desolate ancient secret realm.

Yao Xianzhi gently stomped his foot. Ripples spread beneath him, as if stepping on a calm lake surface.

Chen Ping'an stood up, took a horizontal step, and stood a hundred zhang away in the void. One hand behind his back, the other extended with an open palm. He smiled in invitation: "Martial artist Liu Zong, just throw your punches."

Liu Zong sat where he was, his scalp tingling, feeling like sitting on needles.

It was strange. That boy Chen Ping'an, back then in a white robe carrying a sword, had wandered into the blessed land by mistake and killed that invincible old bastard Ding Ying. After leaving Lotus Flower Blessed Land, Liu Zong, as the chief retainer of Great Spring's Yao Clan, had roughly heard about his grand feats. Even when they met again in Mirage City, Chen Ping'an was already bearing the title of the last Obscured Official and was unquestionably an Upper Fifth Realm sword immortal. Yet when Liu Zong stood with him, he felt no pressure. But at this moment, Liu Zong instinctively had a thought: it was better not to spar with him, only to drink, chat, and shoot the breeze.

Yao Xianzhi suppressed a smile and was about to tease the retainer, but saw his grandfather shake his head slightly, signaling him not to speak.

Liu Zong took a deep breath, suddenly laughed, slowly rose, and flickered forward to a spot. After standing still, he took out from his sleeve a horn-handled knife he hadn't used in many years.

It wasn't a dharma blade of any high rank. Back in his hometown blessed land, it was still sharp against enemies, but here in Righteousness, it was far from enough—didn't even reach the rank of a magic treasure.

But this spar would probably cost him this old companion who had been with him through thick and thin. Looking down at the horn-handled knife, the old man couldn't help but feel pained and sentimental.

Liu Zong said frankly: "This spar—our realms are vastly different—so I will draw on killing intent. I won't hold back any murderous aura or intention. Please bear with me."

Chen Ping'an nodded. Then from his two blue sleeves, he slid out two short knives, narrow as daggers. He tossed one of them to Liu Zong. "Use this short knife of mine. It's tougher. It will let you focus without worry and swing your blade more freely."

Liu Zong sighed in relief. Putting away the horn-handled knife, he caught the dagger-like short knife, flicked it in a beautiful flourish, then raised it to look. The inscription read "Morning Dew." Liu Zong asked with a smile: "Any story behind it?"

Chen Ping'an introduced it: "Its true name is 'Chasing Deer.' It's the Caozi Dagger recorded in the official histories."

And the short knife in Chen Ping'an's hand bore the inscription "Evening Glow." Like the Caozi Dagger, the inscriptions were a ruse. After so many years, Chen Ping'an had never found any clues about this knife. Since it was of equal rank to the Caozi Dagger, it must have an extraordinary origin. Having obtained it from an assassin of that Slaughter Deer Mountain back then, Chen Ping'an had named it "Slaughter Deer."

Liu Zong's eyes showed approval. He nodded: "Good blade, good name. And the one who wields it now is even better."

Liu Zong's figure vanished. Between where he was and the blue-robed figure, only a trail of blade-light firefly was dragged out.

Chen Ping'an stood motionless. He raised one arm and caught the tip of the Chasing Deer dagger with two fingers. With a palm strike, he slammed it heavily onto Liu Zong's face, sending the old man crashing to the ground. The dagger flew from his hand. Chen Ping'an then kicked Liu Zong's head, sending him sliding sideways for dozens of zhang.

Chen Ping'an still stood in place, simply tossing the dagger lightly back to Liu Zong.

Liu Zong sprang up, caught the dagger, wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, and spat out a large mouthful of clotted blood. He laughed angrily: "Good lad, not even suppressing your realm?"

Chen Ping'an asked back: "Suppressing or not, what difference does it make? Don't I still need to hold back and hold back again to avoid accidentally killing you?"

Yao Xianzhi, watching from afar, widened his eyes. Hearing Mr. Chen's words, he suddenly felt a sense of unfamiliarity, as if he had never truly known Mr. Chen.

The old general sipped his wine and smiled: "What do you think he's been through all these years?"

The same rice nurtures a hundred kinds of people; a hundred families' meals raised one person.

The ways of the world—survival is not easy. The hardships and difficulties are not to be explained to outsiders. Perhaps the only language, all truths, are: for the sword cultivator, it's only the sword; for the martial artist, it's only the fist.

On the training ground, Chen Ping'an shook his head to himself: "Just because your Golden Body foundation is passable, barely not a paper-thin physique, you think you can count as half a Far Traveling realm? Unfortunately, with me, it doesn't work that way."

"If you ask me to suppress my realm, fine, I'll suppress it by three realms and spar with you at the same realm."

"Second option: I'll decide whether to suppress or not. I'll stand still. See if you can make me take a single step. If I move half a step, I lose."

That was the bamboo-lou lineage of Fallen Mountain.

This was always how they taught and fed punches.

If you can't take it, can't endure, just go back and drink. We'll still be Old Brother Liu and Little Brother Chen.

Liu Zong said nothing. He chose the second option.

Within one incense stick's time, Chen Ping'an remained unmoved from start to finish. When the dagger came close, he gently pushed the edge aside. But when Liu Zong's fists and feet came near, Chen Ping'an either stood still and took the beating with a detached expression—a Peak Realm bottleneck martial artist's full-force attack landing on the blue robe seemed utterly painless—or he would just... slap down, sending Liu Zong spitting blood.

A strange spar in a strange realm. Liu Zong was like a mortal trying to shake a mountain—overestimating his strength. In the end, he only hurt his own fists. The harder he punched, the more he was injured.

Staggering to his feet, swaying, Liu Zong clenched the dagger in his hand, head bowed, face covered in blood dripping to the ground.

Liu Zong suddenly looked up. The old martial artist, having changed his pure qi several times, could only see a blurry figure in the distance. That blue-robed man broke his promise without warning, opening a simple, ancient fist stance, as if about to throw a punch at him.

No "as if." He was going to.

The other side was finally going to deliver a punch.

Just standing up had exhausted all of Liu Zong's strength. That simple action was no different from a life-and-death battle against a peer grandmaster in his hometown's martial world, at the peak of his spirit. The old man's body swayed, only the arm holding the knife remained tense. He closed his eyes, trying to muster a breath of pure qi—fruitless. He couldn't do it. The entire world was filled with the other's fist intent, giving the old man the feeling of a mayfly in the vast sky, a mustard seed inside a giant—how small I am. And he felt that once this punch was thrown, he would inevitably drop in realm... But in an instant, even this fleeting thought, like a white colt passing a gap, was drowned out completely by the tidal fist intent covering heaven and earth. Between life and death.

Liu Zong suddenly raised his head, his face contorted, gritting his teeth, his arm trembling. Using the sway of his body, he spun in place and blindly thrust the knife toward the blue-robed figure.

His movements were sluggish, his strike soft. The Caozi dagger in his hand didn't even raise a trace of blade light.

But this one strike—I, Liu Zong, am the number one blade artist of Lotus Flower Blessed Land! I must deliver it!

A moment later, or perhaps a long time later, Liu Zong's consciousness blurred, then cleared slightly. The old man suddenly felt a hand press on his shoulder. The person said softly: "Good punch."

---

At Little Dragon Falls, the Dragon-Whisker Immortal Lord from the upper sect had already returned to the Central Continent. At the same time, the mountain lord Lin Huizhi and the supervising elder Quan Qingqiu had also disappeared.

Fortunately, the young female Daoist at the Ruyi Peak thatched hut on the ancestral mountain had also left Little Dragon Falls by flying sword, asking Linghu Jiaoyu to look after her hut.

Since he had arrived at Immortal Capital Mountain, the Tieshu Mountain immortal Guo Ran, who had escorted the two children across continents, took the opportunity to visit Indus Leaf Continent. Leaving Secret Snow Peak, he traveled the landscapes alone.

Zheng Yougan and Tan Yingzhou went to the Falling Treasure Bank every day to listen to Xiaomo's teachings on Dao techniques and help brew wine.

At a mansion on Secret Snow Peak, Huang Yiyun, whose wounds had mostly healed, went out to enjoy the snow today. Walking along, she saw near a pavilion Qiu Du accompanying the young girl Hu Chulin in building snowmen near a pavilion.

Ye Yunyun learned from the old woman that her disciple Xue Huai and Pei Qian were at the Sweeping Flower Platform, having another sparring session that seemed to be very beneficial.

In the Great Li capital of Vase Bottle Continent, a scholar, accompanied by his bookboy Cui Ci, visited the Fire God Temple. Under the flower shed, they found Aunt Feng.

Aunt Feng saw that Confucian scholar from the Pearl Grotto Heaven, smiled, and said: "Riding the wind, moving coldly, it is good."

Li Xisheng made a bow. Aunt Feng instantly disappeared from the stone stool in the flower shed, not accepting the bow, and stood by the stone table.

After Li Xisheng straightened, Aunt Feng took out two flasks of wine and continued: "This, though free from walking, still depends on something."

The bookboy Cui Ci neither knew who this woman was nor what she was hinting at. He only knew that these two quotes originally came from the Third Patriarch of the White Jade Capital, Lu Chen.

Li Xisheng smiled slightly: "The Great Dao has no words; a ground full of yellow leaves."

On a new highest peak in the southern part of the New Xiaoyun Dynasty within Vase Bottle Continent, two people stopped to look around.

One was a young man in hemp clothes and straw sandals, burly, with a wooden expression. Beside him was an extremely handsome youth, wearing a purple jade crown and a white jade belt.

The youth was the sword cultivator Wu Tijing, who had left Zhengyang Mountain. He looked at the man crouching down, chewing a licorice root, and said: "Hu Feng, I think this place is not bad."

Within a radius of several hundred li, the spiritual qi was actually thin, but compared to what ordinary people would call "a scenic and auspicious place," it was slightly better. Now everywhere in Vase Bottle Continent, mountain powers were busy fighting over territory. One section was cut off here, another demarcated there. Or the restored kingdoms and vassals sent their imperial astronomers and geomancers to help find new sites for mountain immortal mansions within their borders. Several peaks that the two had previously taken a liking to, despite being remote and uninhabited, still had cultivators' figures—they had been beaten to it. Finding this barely acceptable mountain was already quite difficult.

The man named Hu Feng chewed the licorice root, nodded: "Let's choose here."

Because the two planned to establish a sect—which would only consist of Hu Feng and Wu Tijing.

But neither thought this was a problem.

Both had been traveling separately, then met by chance, and quickly became friends. There was no explaining it.

Actually, their temperaments were completely different. One was big-minded, you could say confident to the point of arrogance. "I, Wu Tijing, am born to be an Upper Fifth Realm sword cultivator. It's only a matter of time." The other was broad-minded. Hu Feng had a gentle disposition and always spoke slowly.

Their only commonality was probably that both were sword cultivators.

Wu Tijing's brows and eyes were spirited, full of confidence, as if born with it. He laughed: "Hu Feng, for this sect of ours, you be the sect leader and handle the money. I'll just be the supervising law patriarch. It's bound to become a sect-level sword Dao sect. Then you'll be the sect leader, just like that Fallen Mountain's Chen Ping'an."

One was a Dragon Gate realm sword cultivator in his early forties.

The other was a Golden Core realm sword cultivator not yet twenty.

Their ages combined didn't reach sixty, yet they were already planning to establish a sect and thinking about its future.

If we're talking about immortal money, the two together had less than one Grain Rain coin.

"Supervising law? For a long time, our sect will probably only have the two of us. Who else do you have to supervise besides me?"

Hu Feng said slowly: "Can't compare with him."

Besides, there was nothing to compare. Each walks their own path; each has their own way of living.

Wu Tijing said: "Hu Feng, this habit of belittling yourself—change it. Learn from me more."

Hu Feng said: "That's called arrogance. It's a bad habit, too. If you don't rein it in a bit, you'll suffer big losses later."

Wu Tijing, who did give a sense of being wild and arrogant, laughed heartily. That's why he got along with Hu Feng.

Unlike at Zhengyang Mountain, every time he went out, he was surrounded by flattering, fawning looks, or old sword cultivators with gratified expressions saying praiseful words. It was all self-indulgence. Didn't they understand that how I practiced my sword had nothing to do with them?

Wu Tijing hesitated, then crouched down and asked: "That guy—you're from the same hometown, same age. Are you close?"

Hu Feng turned to look at Wu Tijing and smiled, as if saying: "Rare for you to be so interested in someone."

Wu Tijing twitched his lips: "I'm arrogant, that's true, but I'm not stupid. I can't beat Chen Ping'an or Liu Xianyang."

Hu Feng slowly added three words: "For now."

Wu Tijing laughed: "Right?"

Hu Feng's ancestral home was on Erlang Lane, not far from the Great Li Pillar State Yuan family's ancestral home.

When he was a child, he followed his grandfather through the streets, mending bowls and pots, sharpening knives, and the like.

His grandfather knew a lot about old customs and often helped with weddings, earning some extra money. He also ran a shop selling spring couplets, window paper, and other odds and ends. Hu Feng's childhood wasn't too poor, but his grandfather was surnamed Chai while he was surnamed Hu. The neighbors all said his grandfather was a son-in-law who married into the family. Hu Feng received many cold stares as a child, often being targeted by peers. And he only learned his grandfather's given name when they had to engrave it on the tombstone.

The shop business was slow, only slightly better around holidays. It wasn't open every day. The only regular customer was a effeminate kiln worker, and occasionally a dark, skinny little girl would tag along, like a burden, trailing behind the man who liked to flick his fingers. She never spoke. Hu Feng's only impression of her was that her eyes were exceptionally big, making her face seem very small.

The effeminate man, who acted like an uncle, liked to call her "Rouge." This kiln worker had hardly any money. Probably only Hu Feng's grandfather didn't dislike his lack of manliness and was willing to chat with him. Even if the effeminate man didn't buy anything, grandfather wouldn't chase him away. The little girl would sit on the doorstep, and when she was too hungry, she'd call out "Uncle," and they'd go home.

Grandfather passed away when Hu Feng was a teenager. Hu Feng didn't sell the ancestral home. Around that time, it seemed like "the heavens changed"—everything became different.

Hu Feng, like the townsfolk, searched everywhere for treasure, turning things over. Any bottles or jars that looked old, they would take out to see if they could sell. At that time, Hu Feng had picked up a bunch of pretty stones from the Dragon Beard River. People from Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Lane made offers. Without much thought, Hu Feng split the eight so-called "snake gall stones" in half, giving half to each side to offend neither, and got two sums of silver. During that time, he couldn't sleep well and dared not leave the house for fear of thieves.

Before that, Hu Feng had seen a peer from Mud Vase Lane named Song Jixin. The old folks said he was the illegitimate son of Overseer Song, who couldn't bring him to the government office, so he had Song Jixin settled in that alley. This Song Jixin seemed to always have money. Every day he would bring a maidservant, loaf around, and show off.

Since childhood, Hu Feng liked to go to the old Porcelain Mountain, where he often saw a guy named Dong Shuijing, also picking through things. At first they didn't talk. Each had their own finds. Later Hu Feng discovered that Dong Shuijing liked collecting fragments of porcelain with writing. Later, Dong Shuijing approached him. Two taciturn children quietly "traded" barter.

In Huang Erniang's wine shop, Hu Feng often saw the gatekeeper called Zheng Dafeng. That man's eyes seemed to be fixed on the women's bodies.

Every water-grabbing season, Hu Feng would see a skinny peer who seemed to be from the same lane as Song Jixin. They were neighbors, but one was particularly rich and one particularly poor.

Grandfather forbade him from approaching that orphan surnamed Chen. But unlike the old folks near Apricot Blossom Lane, who were harsh with words like "jinx" or "plague child," Grandfather just knew many ways and told him to stay away, never saying why.

Once, Hu Feng was fishing alone at Green Stone Cliff. It was full of potholes, which the locals called "sun nests," much like that Crab Archway. No one knew who first used those terms.

Hu Feng witnessed with his own eyes a child who hadn't learned how to swim, just playing around. First he dog-paddled in the shallow part of the Dragon Beard River, then somehow almost drowned. Just as Hu Feng dropped his fishing rod and was about to run and save him, that skinny bamboo pole of a kid saw it, sprinted over, jumped into the water, and dragged the child to shore. The child cried loudly. Hu Feng was too far away to hear what was said. In any case, the kid finally got the child to stop crying, and seemed to have given the child a grasshopper woven from grass.

Then, when some older children approached, that orphan surnamed Chen left.

Afterwards, Hu Feng heard that the child's family burned the child's clothes that very day, probably considering it unlucky.

In the old days, near the Iron Lock Well, old and young, men and women, all liked to cool off under the old locust tree, gossiping about everything. Nothing could be hidden.

Old folks told stories, women chattered in fragments, men watched the women, children ran around in groups, playing around the tree.

Since there were shops for happy occasions, of course there were shops for funerals. There weren't many such shops in the town, only a few, but the business was very different. Hu Feng once asked his grandfather why. Grandfather said because the dead are great. Even the poorest families would tighten their belts and scrape together some money. Even if they had to borrow, they would try to make it as grand as possible.

But why weddings didn't earn much money—grandfather didn't say.

Grandfather was very good to him, giving him almost everything at home, but there were a few rules. Since Hu Feng could remember, grandfather had repeatedly told him: Don't pick up money on the road. When encountering a problem, if you can avoid asking for help, don't ask. But if you must ask for help, you must repay—whether money or favors—don't owe. Don't learn from the New Year's Eve dinner that can be left over, deliberately "leaving it" for the next year.

But there was one kind of celebratory money Hu Feng could ask for, and must go for: when someone got married, when the bride was being married off, some people would "block the road." Hu Feng would follow along, collect a red envelope, and silently recite some "old auspicious words" that his grandfather had taught him.

Also, although their shop was for happy occasions, if there was a funeral in town, help if he could. After helping, he would eat at that house and go home. If the family needed someone to keep vigil, agree. But remember: once you enter the mourning hall, don't abandon the task halfway. Even if you're sleepy, take a nap right there. Don't go home in the middle of the night. No need to fear any ghosts. Only go home at dawn, then you can sleep in.

At the Immortal Grave, on a certain day every year, grandfather would take Hu Feng to kowtow.

Before grandfather passed, he specifically instructed Hu Feng: even if grandfather is no longer here, this must not be forgotten. Even if he grows up and needs to travel far, every year on this day, he must still light three sticks of incense.

At the westernmost part of town, there was a girl as slender as a willow branch. Her surname was Li, but she had great strength, carrying full buckets of water on a shoulder pole. She had a brother, a sturdy-looking kid. Once, near the alley at home, the child, still in open-crotch pants, walked swaggering. The child held up a cicada slough—probably picked up from somewhere or stripped from a tree—high above his head. It was golden, shimmering in the sunlight, looking unusual, and also larger than the common cicada shells in town. Hu Feng took a few extra looks.

Feeling that his show-off had succeeded, the boy in open-crotch pants deliberately slowed down, shaking his head, twisting his wrist, waving the cicada slough.

Hu Feng was at the entrance of a house in the alley, sitting on a long bench, sharpening a kitchen knife. Sharpening a knife earned a few copper coins—negotiable.

In the distance, a woman stood at her doorway, hands on hips, shouting loudly for her son to come home for dinner.

Hu Feng casually asked the kid called Huai Zi if he would sell that cicada shell for three coppers.

If Hu Feng hadn't spoken, it would have been fine. Once he did, the child got scared, immediately moved to the base of the wall, and scurried along, head down, not daring to respond.

Hu Feng didn't mind, and was even a bit relieved the kid didn't take it seriously—three coppers for that, what was the point? So he concentrated and continued sharpening the knife.

Unexpectedly, the child tiptoed back, placed the golden cicada slough on the bench, and ran off.

When Hu Feng tried to call him back, the child sprinted away, hitched up his pants, turned a corner, and vanished.

Hu Feng didn't know whether to laugh or cry. A moment later, around the corner of the wall, a head poked out. From far away, the kid dared to grin at Hu Feng.

Hu Feng took out the copper coins. The child shook his head vigorously.

At that time, Hu Feng didn't yet know what that chance encounter truly meant, or how much it would affect his future life.

He had always thought he would go on year after year, carrying his ancestral wooden box filled with tools, going through the streets and alleys, with his whetstones, mending pots and pans for people.

Additionally, those two ancestral whetstones—only after leaving his hometown did Hu Feng, by chance at an immortal ferry, discover through a book dedicated to mountain treasures that they were the legendary Dragon-Slaying Stones.

He gave one to Wu Tijing, and it was the larger one.

Hu Feng had few friends in town. Since he was out in the world and had truly made Wu Tijing a friend, and since the other's talent for sword training was far better, there was no need to be stingy.

Wu Tijing asked curiously: "What are you thinking about? So absorbed."

Hu Feng smiled: "Thinking about childhood things."

He didn't even know how to repay that person named Li Huai.

Because that golden cicada slough was a sword-qi-filled cave heaven.

Wu Tijing clicked his tongue: "Your hometown is really something."

Hu Feng said: "It's actually fine. Knowing everything and knowing nothing—they're always the same."

Hu Feng took out a bamboo flute and began to play softly.

In the moonlight, the flute melody drifted leisurely, covering the mountains and fields.

---

A Deer Holding Lingzhi was about to arrive at the Immortal Capital Mountain Ferry.

Chief retainer Liu Zong's face was pale, but his spirit was excellent. Just his steps were unsteady, as if he'd been drinking.

So when the group disembarked, Liu Zong didn't follow. The Deer Holding Lingzhi would soon depart back to Great Spring's Mirage City.

Chen Ping'an led Old General Yao and Yao Xianzhi up Green Lotus Peak.

After the ferry lifted off again, Liu Zong left the bow and went to a room on the first deck. He knocked gently and called: "Your Majesty."

After crossing the threshold, the Great Spring Empress was already sitting at the table reviewing memorials. Inside, a maidservant was straightening up and standing on tiptoe, gently closing the window.

During the ascent, Chen Ping'an chatted leisurely with the old general.

They talked about sights of the landscapes and stories of old acquaintances.

Chen Ping'an felt some longing for his hometown and Fallen Mountain.

Perhaps becoming the person one most admires in one's heart is a path to enlightenment.

Naturally, Chen Ping'an thought of that hardworking old cook.

Probably, in Zhu Lian's heart, there lived a child who would never grow up, named the Martial World.