Chapter 906: Filling the Gap
Before ascending the mountain, Yao Xianzhi wanted to drape the fox-fur coat over his grandfather's shoulders, but Chen Ping'an smiled and shook his head, signaling with his eyes that there was no need for such trouble.
Shortly after, Yao Xianzhi realized that in this time of melting snow, with layers of white covering everything in a silvery coat, and the cold mountain air holding no drifting clouds, the mountain breeze was surprisingly mild, carrying no hint of chill. Moreover, the snow on the path beneath their feet had already melted on its own, as if some mountain spirit were invisibly "clearing the street" for the three of them.
The old man was in high spirits and chuckled, "Climbing a great mountain."
All his life, he had spent it on horseback at the Great Spring border, with only a few trips to the capital to see the emperor. He had hardly moved from that spot—never traveled with a book on his back to study, never sought out scenic wonders with anyone. The famous mountains and great rivers he had truly set foot on could be counted on one hand.
Thinking back to those days, as a young scout on the border, light cavalry chasing enemies, snow filling his bow and blade. Whenever the river froze, the horses' hooves would crunch on it with a sound like shattered jade.
Yao Xianzhi reminded him in a low voice, "Mr. Chen, we should only walk a section of the mountain path; we can't let Grandfather have his way and go all the way to Qingping Peak."
Just as the emperor had told him and Yao Lingzhi privately, their grandfather was now like a big child.
Chen Ping'an smiled and said, "Don't worry, I'll keep him in check."
The old man, for a rare change, didn't say anything stubborn. He just slowly climbed the mountain and asked casually, "Ping'an, do you think an ordinary mortal climbing a high mountain is about the same as you immortals riding the wind? Both are about rising higher and higher, looking at the heavens and the earth from all sides?"
Chen Ping'an replied, "In essence, pretty much the same. But I've heard that some great cultivators on certain mountain peaks in the Qingming Realm are quite leisurely. They make appointments to climb to the high cold places and use the Big Dipper as a ladle for their wine. Not like in our Haoran Realm, where the White Jade Capital doesn't bother much with such things."
The old man laughed and asked, "And you, boy? Will you ever do something like that?"
Chen Ping'an smiled. "As long as my realm is sufficient, I'd like to go and have a look too."
Yao Xianzhi, recalling the matter of the Tugging Moon from the official gazettes, asked curiously, "That bright moon in the Barren Wastes Realm—is it very big?"
Chen Ping'an said, "Actually, when you see that moon up close, it's a desolate landscape on the earth. There are mountains, but they're barren and lifeless—no water, no plants. Very different from the descriptions in the strange tales. However, according to secret records from the Central Plains Confucian Temple and the Summer Resort Palace, ten thousand years ago, these hanging moons were actually quite lively. There were even ordinary mortals living on them, not much different from the market towns down below today. They were collectively called 'Moon Households,' just a household registration. The skilled craftsmen responsible for building palaces were called 'Heavenly Artisans.'"
Yao Xianzhi was stunned.
Chen Ping'an smiled and added, "By the way, I currently own an ancient Moon Palace myself. I haven't given it away yet. If Grandpa Yao is interested, later we can take a trip there."
The old man shook his head. "A grand palace, vast and boundless—what's the point if there are no people in it? Not much different from us visiting the curfew-enforced Mirage City at night."
Yao Xianzhi, who was quite interested, felt a pang of regret hearing his grandfather say that.
Chen Ping'an glanced at the Prefect. Are you stupid? Grandpa Yao is just being stubborn with us here. Don't you know to help build a bridge?
Receiving Mr. Chen's silent cue, Yao Xianzhi, having been tempered by years in officialdom, immediately understood in his heart.
The old man suddenly asked, "I heard that that Headmaster Cheng of the Great Vow Academy came from the Yellow Court Kingdom in Vase Bottle Continent, and that he once served as a vice-headmaster and lead lecturer at the Forest Deer Academy near Falling Mountain?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "I'm an old acquaintance of Headmaster Cheng. When I was young, I traveled with some friends to the Cliff Academy of Great Sui. On the way, we passed through the wilderness of Yellow Court Kingdom and happened upon Headmaster Cheng's mountain retreat. We were treated to a sumptuous feast—a whole table of mountain delicacies and seasonal vegetables. Even now, thinking about it makes my mouth water a little."
Apart from the Great Vow Academy, located in the center of the continent, there were also the Tianmu Academy in the north of Parasol Leaf Continent and the Wuxi Academy in the south. The two headmasters came from the lineage of the Ritual Sage and the Sub-Saint, respectively.
Additionally, there were two vice-headmasters each. It was said that all four were extremely young and promising junzi, all having been on the battlefield.
Yao Zhen seemed to speak casually, "I may not know much about the rules of the mountain, but some principles must be the same. For instance, a distant relative is not as good as a close neighbor. If I remember correctly, the place closest to Xiandu Mountain is the old Dayuan Yuan Dynasty, right? The whole court and country were full of martyrs. On the way here, I had nothing to do and listened to Yao Xianzhi chat a bit. He said that the Dayuan Dynasty has now split into three, each proclaiming their own emperor. It's a complete mess, with ghost cities everywhere, and no good end in sight."
Yao Xianzhi felt helpless. It was hardly something I casually brought up; clearly, Grandpa had actively demanded a large amount of intelligence about the area around Xiandu Mountain.
Chen Ping'an immediately understood. "Rest assured, Grandpa Yao. We won't just each sweep the snow in front of our own door. Xiandu Mountain won't turn a blind eye to this. After all, no matter how many things you do, in the end, you're doing them as a person. The same goes for mountain cultivation. My disciple Cui Dongshan, who is also the first sect master of the branch sect, has secretly visited all those ghost cities and set up formations. They can gather the clear and pure qi between heaven and earth, helping the ghosts in the major cities maintain a spark of true spirit, so they don't degenerate into fierce ghosts. Once the old Dayuan Dynasty is unified and the new emperor enfeoffs the civil and military martyred spirits, those temporarily abandoned city god temples, large and small, can immediately be filled and take up their posts. If not for that, how would I dare invite Grandpa Yao to Xiandu Mountain as a guest? I'd be asking for a scolding!"
Yao Xianzhi leaned back and secretly gave Mr. Chen a thumbs-up.
This flattery, this skill of offering tall hats—absolutely masterful. If Mr. Chen ever wanted to enter officialdom, he'd be formidable!
After walking about three or four miles of mountain path, they came to a rest pavilion by the roadside. The old general stopped there, gazing at the snowy scenery beyond the mountain—clean and pure, unsullied.
Moved by the scene, the old man couldn't help but tell Chen Ping'an some stories of old friends from the border.
In truth, Yao Xianzhi had heard them countless times before, but he just kept listening without interrupting.
When people get old, they tend to say the same things over and over. Young people under thirty often find it tiresome and say, "You've already told me that," sending the old person into silence.
But by the time those young people become middle-aged themselves, especially when they have wives and children, their patience with their elders' ramblings tends to grow ever greater.
When the grandfather paused, Yao Xianzhi signaled Mr. Chen with his eyes.
Chen Ping'an then reached out and grabbed both the old general's and Yao Xianzhi's arms, joking, "Let's try the feeling of riding the wind."
In an instant, the three of them arrived at the summit of Qingping Peak.
His nephew Zheng Youqian and Tan Yingzhou from Iron Tree Mountain were busy building snowmen there.
The little girl had actually made a snowman over ten feet tall, standing on one leg like a golden rooster, holding a bamboo sword.
At that moment, Tan Yingzhou was quite pleased with herself. As for the snowman Zheng Youqian had built—it was so chubby she couldn't bear to look at it.
Seeing the Hidden Officer appear suddenly on the summit, Tan Yingzhou immediately put on a serious face.
Chen Ping'an smiled and greeted them, introducing the old man and Yao Xianzhi.
Zheng Youqian bowed in salute. "Little Uncle! Greetings to General Yao and Prefect Yao."
Tan Yingzhou just smiled shyly at the two strangers and performed a curtsey, but changed her address: "Sect Leader Chen!"
Very ladylike.
Chen Ping'an smiled and introduced them to the old man. "Yingzhou is a prized disciple of Dragon Gate Immortal Lord from Iron Tree Mountain in the Central Plains. Youqian is the direct disciple of my senior brother Jun Qian."
Letting the two juniors continue building their snowmen, Chen Ping'an took the old man to stroll around Qingping Peak.
The old general bent down, grabbed a handful of snow, and packed it into a ball, pressing it firm. He suddenly asked, "In the future, Xiandu Mountain will inevitably have dealings with the academies. Are you familiar with the headmasters of Tianmu Academy and Wuxi Academy?"
Chen Ping'an replied, "I'm not familiar with the two headmasters at all, but I've met one of the vice-headmasters on the Sword Qi Great Wall. He is a junzi. After the celebration is over, I plan to visit Wuxi Academy to see him."
When Chen Ping'an said "junzi," he wasn't referring to the title of junzi, but rather the man's character.
Vice-Headmaster Wang Zai.
Wang Zai's Confucian lineage belonged to the Ritual Study Palace of the Ritual Sage's line. His teacher was the current Grand Sacrificialist of the Ritual Study Palace.
Back on the Sword Qi Great Wall, he had spoken frankly with Chen Ping'an, saying that his own master was a close friend of Mr. Mao. They had traveled together, and so when the Wen Sage's lineage was nearly cut off, he had always hoped that Mao Xiaodong would switch to the Ritual Sage's line. This wasn't meant to poach, but to give Mao Xiaodong a chance to revive the Wen Sage's legacy.
Besides that, Wang Zai actually came from a family of sages. His clan's founding patriarch was the previous Confucian sage on the Sword Qi Great Wall.
Before leaving that post, that accompanying sacrificial sage had a private Daoist duel with the previous Hidden Officer, Xiao Xun—and naturally lost.
Back then, junzi and virtuous men like Wang Zai on the Sword Qi Great Wall could do very little. One role was as a battlefield record-keeper, similar to a supervising sword immortal; another was participating in intelligence operations at the Summer Resort Palace. But they were like the remonstrance officials of the Haoran Realm courts—without real power. This was only natural. At that time, the Hidden Officer was still Xiao Xun, and overseeing the Summer Resort Palace was the female sword immortal Luo Shan and the Bamboo Hut sword immortal. In the end, they all defected to the Barren Wastes with Xiao Xun.
During his nearly ten years on the Sword Qi Great Wall, Wang Zai had almost no reputation.
The old general said, "Familiarity has its advantages, but also its difficulties. Generally speaking, dealing with scholars is troublesome. There are the junzi-Confucians, the petty-Confucians, and the pedantic Confucians—each with their own temperament."
Chen Ping'an hummed in agreement and laughed. "But Wang Zai is both a junzi and not pedantic. He's very flexible in handling matters, and he has great wisdom in dealing with people and the world."
The old man smiled. "That high praise? No wonder he could become a vice-headmaster of an academy."
Now Wang Zai was precisely the vice-headmaster of Wuxi Academy.
Originally, this gentleman, who had trained for years on the Sword Qi Great Wall and killed many demons in battle, was, according to the Confucian Temple's established agenda, in two minds about whether to go to Wuxi Academy on Parasol Leaf Continent or Guanhu Academy on Vase Bottle Continent. It all depended on Wang Zai's own opinion. The Confucian Temple itself favored sending Wang Zai to Parasol Leaf Continent, but over at the Merit Forest, Chen Ping'an heard from his own teacher that Wang Zai's earliest plan had been to go to Vase Bottle Continent as a vice-headmaster, even if he didn't get the title. That was fine with him.
So Chen Ping'an, at the Merit Forest, had privately sought out his senior brother Mao, who was now serving as a director of the academy, to help with an introduction. He also found the Grand Sacrificialist of the Ritual Study Palace.
It was obvious that when Grand Sacrificialist Liu arrived, he wasn't relaxed. He was probably worried that Chen Ping'an, the youngest Hidden Officer in the history of the Sword Qi Great Wall, might make exorbitant demands.
As soon as he heard that it was about persuading Wang Zai to go to Parasol Leaf Continent, Grand Sacrificialist Liu clearly breathed a sigh of relief. Because he, as Wang Zai's teacher, knew best that the reason Wang Zai wanted to go to Guanhu Academy was precisely because of this young Hidden Officer.
The Wen Sage's lineage—from the old scholar himself as the teacher, to the few direct disciples from years past, plus the young Hidden Officer's "reputation" on the Sword Qi Great Wall—left Grand Sacrificialist Liu no choice but to be on edge.
Don't think that the cross-continent ferry managers who now visit Spring Banners Studio at Hanging Mountain look down on everyone. Back then, when they faced off against a row of sword immortals, they were like chickens waiting to be slaughtered, all huddled in their chairs, not daring to breathe.
The Confucian Temple's intelligence reports recorded this clearly.
That Grand Sacrificialist finally smiled and said, "Let's just say the Hidden Officer owes me a favor?"
Mao Xiaodong immediately looked displeased. Fleecing my little junior brother? Old Liu, are you already drunk without even having a drink?
Bossing our little junior brother around because he's easygoing, is that it?
The Grand Sacrificialist had to drop it. "Just a joke. Don't take it seriously."
Among the world's cultivators, sword immortals were the hardest to control. Academies and scholarly palaces often ran into such thorns. For example, old sword immortals like Zhou Shenzhi in the early years, plus people like Pu He from Liuxia Continent—every local academy had headaches over them.
How many sword cultivators who had reached the upper five realms were easy to get along with?
It wasn't that the academies couldn't manage them. Following the rules made it not too difficult. But they were afraid of running into ambiguous troubles where both sides had reasonable arguments. Handling those was the most mentally exhausting.
If there was a young Hidden Officer from the Sword Qi Great Wall to mediate and coordinate, it might be exceptionally effective in certain moments.
Still, Chen Ping'an bowed in thanks and agreed readily, but only promised to be willing to step in and resolve conflicts. He absolutely did not guarantee that any particular sword cultivator would listen to him.
Strangely enough, this made Grand Sacrificialist Liu feel it was best.
The old man patted the blue-clad young man's arm and said softly, "Ping'an, from now on, don't let old feelings keep you from knowing how to deal with the Great Spring Dynasty. Do things as they should be done."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "I will."
In the twilight, the sun was setting.
At the summit of Qingping Peak, the future peak of the Qingping Sword Sect, the old general stood by the cliff railing, gently tapping it.
He looked at the two younger ones beside him, satisfied with both. In a daze, he seemed to remember the first time he saw that white-clad, sword-carrying youth. Back then, Xianzhi was also a young man.
Riding their horses on the road to the country—gallant youths. Where does white hair go? A thousand peaks in the setting sun.
***
The old Dragon Prefecture was officially renamed Chu Prefecture, and within it was Huaihuang County.
Li Huai had returned to his hometown, accompanied by a yellow-clad old man who stuck to him like a shadow—his personal bodyguard.
This was none other than the wild Taoist from the Peach Pavilion of the Barren Wastes in the Hundred Thousand Mountains, who had since become famous at the Mandarin Duck Shoals battle as the Young Taoist of Haoran Realm.
The Young Taoist had disembarked from the ferry at Ox Horn Ferry. Looking around, he said, "Young master, your hometown truly is a land of feng shui treasure. Indeed, a place's waters and soil nurture its people, and you are the cream of the crop. Just the name Huaihuang County is a good omen. 'When the locust tree flowers turn yellow, the world's scholars are busy.'"
Interesting. Very thought-provoking.
In the past, when the Pearly Bead Minor Heaven took root and descended from a heaven to a blessed land, it was as if the younger generation of the town had all faced a silent great examination.
His parents and older sister with her husband had returned to North Jambu Continent. His mother was still worried about the shop at the foot of Lion Peak.
Accompanying his young master to the town, the Young Taoist glanced into the distance. "Eh?" He waved his hand and called out, "You there—pfft—little friend over there, come over for a chat."
The Left Guardian of Qilong Alley hesitated, then looked up at Li Huai. He glanced at the yellow-clad old man, weighed the pros and cons, tucked his tail between his legs, and scampered over.
The Young Taoist bent down and asked amiably, "Little friend, since you've already succeeded in refining your form, why are you still so... keeping your edge hidden?"
The yellow dog hung his head.
It was a long story. Hard to put into words.
What good was it to succeed in refining form? What was the so-called immortal's life? It was the days when Pei Qian wasn't on Qilong Alley or Falling Mountain!
He never wanted to be the Left Guardian of Qilong Alley. That title had been shoved on him by that little charcoal back then. The worst years were when that little charcoal went to the school. Every time school let out and he passed the roadside outhouse, the little charcoal would give him a strange look and a sly smile, asking if he was hungry.
Li Huai crouched down and rubbed the yellow dog's head.
It was clear the Left Guardian of Qilong Alley was quite nervous, so Li Huai didn't let the Young Taoist drag this Daoist friend into small talk.
They went to an old town school. Li Huai had to find a contact at the county government's household office to ask for a favor before he got a key.
This school, where children had once been enlightened, was still nominally under the jurisdiction of the Huaihuang County government.
Last time, near Mandarin Duck Shoals by the Central Plains Confucian Temple, Li Huai had discussed something with Chen Ping'an.
When he learned that Chen Ping'an did indeed have the idea of becoming a teacher, but not as a tutor in his hometown, Li Huai asked why he didn't ask the Great Li court for this place. It was a perfectly legitimate request, and not excessive. At worst, he could open a separate school from the Chen clan of Dragon Tail Creek.
Chen Ping'an's answer made Li Huai a little sad.
Now, in the town's old houses, hardly any locals remained. On New Year's Eve, how many households would still visit each other for the New Year's dinner?
To put it bluntly, nine out of ten locals had moved away, almost all to the prefectural city. After selling their ancestral homes at high prices—sometimes sky-high—they had all become wealthy people in the Dragon Prefecture seat. In the old days, aside from Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Lane, and some old dragon kiln masters, ordinary folks rarely even saw a few bits of silver. In those years of unimagined prosperity, every household found it hard to even see a single copper coin. Who would bother carrying copper coins? It was too déclassé.
But nearly thirty years later, very few had held onto their fortunes. Money came and went like water. Half of it ended up back on gambling tables, in brothels, at banquets. They quickly squandered their savings. Many couldn't even keep their new houses in the prefectural city. Some had ambitions higher than the sky: after downing a few cups of wine and making acquaintances with so-called wealthy families and officials' sons, they rashly went into business partnerships. They wanted to make money from everything, thought every trade was a path to wealth, and dared to earn any kind of shady profit. But how could people from a small town outsmart those old foxes? After a few deals, they would just hear a splash and their money would be gone.
The late winter sun felt warm on the skin.
There was an old saying in the town, which in Great Li official language meant something like "in the sun's den" or "in the sun's nest."
After passing Crab Workshop and Iron Lock Well, Li Huai stopped. There used to be a fortune-telling stall here.
When he was little, he once went shopping with his sister Li Liu. While she was haggling in a shop, Li Huai got impatient and ran out alone. He asked for a fortune stick here, mainly hoping the schoolwork for the next year would be easier, so he wouldn't have to struggle to memorize things. Getting spanked with the ruler wasn't so bad, but being teased by that little girl with the horn braids from Qilong Alley was unbearable. Wasn't he also a man with a face?
Anyway, Li Huai was just messing around when a bamboo slip fell out of the fortune stick container. The young Taoist made a big fuss, saying it was an excellent fortune.
Li Huai was too young to understand the slip's meaning, let alone remember it. He only heard the young Taoist swear it was one of the three best fortunes and that he didn't need to pay.
Worried the Taoist might change his mind and ask for money, Li Huai took the advantage and ran off to find his sister. If you want money, ask my sister. If that's not enough, you can call my brother-in-law, right?
Luckily, the young Taoist just sat behind his stall with his hands in his sleeves, smiling like an affordable brother-in-law to be.
When he got home and told his mother, she was overjoyed. Dinner that night was full of meat and fish, almost like New Year's.
It really was a good fortune.
A few days later, craving another chicken leg, Li Huai sneaked back to the fortune-telling stall, pretending it was his first time. Another excellent fortune came up, and the young Taoist said it was again one of the three best.
Li Huai scurried home and told his mother again, and the oil and water were a little less than last time.
On the way home, a little sparrow was flitting around Li Huai. The kid almost caught it with a jump and took it home to... well.
At the dinner table, his mother asked, "Did you spend any money on the fortune-telling?"
Li Huai shook his head. "Where would I get pocket money? I'm saving it all."
If Li Liu couldn't find a husband in the future, he'd probably have to rely on that piggy bank he'd found by the old porcelain mountain.
But there was no need to say that. No matter how hard it was for Li Liu to marry, she was still his own sister. And his mother did favor him too much, even when he was young. Li Huai felt it wasn't right.
His mother was a bit suspicious. She turned to her husband and said, "That young Taoist named Lu... could he be a swindler?"
Li Er grinned. "Well, he didn't cheat us out of any money. It doesn't matter if he's a swindler or not."
His mother rubbed the corner of her eye. She understood. That young Taoist, who was said to have a flirty mouth and liked to touch young women's hands, probably had his eye on her looks. He was planning to play a long game. She was both proud and sharp-tongued. "What a useless lecher. Since he knows his letters, why doesn't he go to Fortune Street and be an accountant for some rich family?"
Li Er just buried his head in his food, saying nothing, still a man who couldn't be beaten into speaking.
His mother didn't have any devious thoughts. Her husband might be a loser, but when you marry a chicken, you follow the chicken; when you marry a dog, you follow the dog. If she couldn't hold to that principle, the neighbors and gossipy women would talk behind her back until her spine broke. She was just thinking maybe she could play matchmaker for a girl in her own family.
Besides, Li Er might be looked down on by others for not earning money, but she didn't mind.
So his mother went to take a look at the fortune-telling stall. The young man was fair-skinned and delicate-looking. Forget it—he didn't look like he could handle anything. No muscle at all. Could he really work the fields? And he was poor. She'd heard he lived all year round in a shed next to a wedding shop on Shoulder Pole Alley, next door to Aunt Mao's bun shop.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have had to set up a travel stall to make a living. What woman would marry him and have a good life in the long run? Forget it. She'd better not ruin the girl from her family.
Li Huai took the Young Taoist to the easternmost part of town, where a lone yellow-mud house stood. This was Zheng Dafeng's place.
Li Huai had been close to Zheng Dafeng since childhood. Zheng Dafeng often carried the kid around when he was still in diapers, and back then Li Huai had often soiled and wet himself.
When Zheng Dafeng was in town, he just drifted along, getting by. He'd have money for wine, and if he didn't, he'd scrounge for it. He was also a gambler, and a bad one at that. What decent girl would take a fancy to such an idle wastrel?
Now Uncle Zheng wasn't home, but the spring couplets and everything were all in place, and the house was spotless—not at all like a place that had been empty for years.
Li Huai knew why. Uncle Zheng must have left a key with the Nuanshu little steward from Falling Mountain.
Thinking of the pink-skirted little girl made him think of Chen Ping'an. Li Huai grinned, put his hands behind his head, and started wandering. On his way to find Dong Shuijing for a bowl of wontons, he muttered, "How come I'm not a grand sword immortal yet? That's just not right."
***
In the Great Li capital, a small alley.
Lin Shouyi returned home and went to see his father.
Lin Shouyi came to the side room and stood at the door.
His father sat cross-legged on the heated brick bed. On the low table were a pot of wine, a wine bowl, and several small plates of appetizers. He didn't use chopsticks, just drank and nibbled on his own.
The man, temples lightly dusted with frost, glanced sideways at the door. Holding the wine bowl in one hand, he said flatly, "Something?"
Lin Shouyi nodded. "There is something!"
From the man's posture, if the son had nothing important, he might as well not enter. And if it wasn't significant, he could say it standing at the door and leave.
If an outsider had witnessed this scene, their eyes might have spun around in the wine bowl.
To have produced a "qilin child" like Lin Shouyi—even if you were a family with a Pillar-of-State surname, shouldn't you still be worshipping him properly?
Lin Shouyi's father was a very inconspicuous minor official in the old supervisory office of the Pearly Bead Minor Heaven. He managed some minor clerks and had served under three successive supervisory officers: Song Yuzhang, Prince Song Changjing, and Cao Gengxin. But the townsfolk back then, young and old, had no concept of officialdom at all. They couldn't even distinguish between officials and clerks. Moreover, the officials of the supervisory office dealt only with dragon kilns and kiln workers and porcelain all year round; they had almost no interaction with ordinary people.
However, his senior uncle Cui Chan had once revealed heavenly secrets to Lin Shouyi: even his name had been chosen by his father, who asked Senior Uncle to pick it for him.
A lowly clerk in the supervisory office could get the Great Li state teacher to name his son?
Any fool knew that was completely illogical.
And Lin Shouyi, precocious from childhood, even less believed that his father was merely a sesame-sized official in the supervisory office.
The man asked, "Do I need to get barefoot and run to the front gate to welcome you in with a grand escort?"
Only then did Lin Shouyi step over the threshold and sit sideways on the brick bed, but he didn't remove his boots. He tried to sit cross-legged like his father.
He was bracing for a few more acerbic remarks.
Lin Shouyi asked, "That matter concerning Chen Ping'an's father—did you have any part in it back then?"
The man twitched the corner of his mouth, raised the wine bowl, and took a sip. "Your wings are hard enough now, aren't they? You've become a mountain immortal, flying here and there without touching the ground. Your tone has gotten big. What's the saying? 'Drink clouds and eat dew'? Or have you found a different father outside who taught you how to be a son?"
After leaving the Kiln Affairs Supervisory Office, the man had left his hometown and taken up a post in the Department of Chariots and Horses in the Ministry of War in the Great Li capital. But it was a subsidiary office under that department—a seventh-rank official, with a "deputy" character attached. Since he wasn't a regular imperial examination graduate, he was considered a "dirty official." Not being a native of the capital, and now getting older, it was difficult even to become a full director, let alone remove that "deputy." In recent years, he barely managed to oversee a quiet department—the Express Post and Gazette Office. That was because the head of the office was a young scion from a noble family who didn't bother much with work. Usually, when he saw the man, he just called him "Old Lin." All the memorials from various prefectures arriving in the capital, after receiving the emperor's vermilion approval, were dispatched from the Ministry of War in sealed envelopes to the localities; they all passed through this inconspicuous office. Additionally, the gazettes distributed from the capital to the localities were also under its jurisdiction. The colleagues in that office could never have imagined that the silent and unremarkable Lin Zhengcheng was the father of the famous Lin Shouyi, whose name resounded in both capitals.
Lin Shouyi had been afraid of his father since childhood.
Actually, things weren't much better in recent years.
He had left home for many years, traveled far to study, and worked hard at cultivation—as if all of it was just to prove one thing to this man.
Whether or not I have you as a father, whether or not I have this home, Lin Shouyi can still make something of himself.
His mother was biased, doting on his younger brother. His father was cold, indifferent to everything.
As for his younger brother Lin Shouye, even without a smile from his father, it was still better than with Lin Shouyi, who either got silence or scathing words.
So Lin Shouyi's entire childhood, until he left home to travel far, was truly a time without a father's love or a mother's affection.
It had deeply wounded the boy's heart.
That was why, when they were studying together in Great Sui, the quiet, taciturn, handsome young Lin Shouyi had first opened his heart to Chen Ping'an and said something like, "Not all parents in the world are like yours."
But today's Lin Shouyi seemed different.
Lin Shouyi said solemnly, "If it weren't for me, Chen Ping'an would never have deliberately taken a detour around our Lin family when investigating the truth about the life-bound porcelain fragments. Even last time when Chen Ping'an came to the capital, he pretended not to know anything. Dad, today you have to give me an answer, because I also have to give an answer to my friend!"
The man looked at his son.
Lin Shouyi's demeanor was steady, his gaze firm. He met his father's eyes directly.
This was a first.
The man wasn't angry. He nodded. "Finally, you're starting to look a little like a man. I was beginning to think I'd raised a daughter and was worried about the dowry."
Lin Shouyi was bewildered.
Could this be considered a compliment?
The man lifted his chin slightly.
Lin Shouyi looked puzzled.
The man asked, "Don't you drink? And as a Nascent Soul realm cultivator, you mean you don't even have a dimensional artifact on you to carry wine and a cup?"
Lin Shouyi was a bit embarrassed. "I've never had a dimensional artifact on me."
The man didn't move, but asked, "Then should I, as the 'son,' go get a wine cup or a wine bowl for my 'father'? Give the word, so I don't bring the wrong thing and make my father unhappy."
Lin Shouyi took a deep breath, silently rose, and hurried out of the room to fetch a wine bowl from elsewhere.
This man either said nothing or, when he spoke, he loved to jab right at the heart. It had always been like this.
There were a few maids in the house, but they were all sturdy and big-boned, and they were all under his mother's command. His father took care of everything, big or small, personally. He never let maids or servants attend to him.
Returning to the room, Lin Shouyi poured himself a bowl of wine, not even daring to fill it. Without a word, he held the bowl in both hands and downed it in one gulp.
The man raised his wine bowl, took a small sip, picked up a salted peanut, gave it a gentle twist, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed slowly. "If you say you and Chen Ping'an are friends, then I and Chen Ping'an's father were also friends. Well, not 'were'—we were friends. That's it."
Lin Shouyi nodded.
Chen Ping'an's father had been a kiln worker at a dragon kiln, highly skilled, and a straightforward, honest man. He had no troubles. If nothing unexpected had happened, within a few years he would have become the head master of the dragon kiln.
And Lin Shouyi's father was the specific supervisor of kiln affairs, overseeing the firing results and inspecting the quality of the porcelain. Since the early supervisory officer Song Yuzhang had been a diligent official who loved visiting the kilns, Lin Shouyi's father often had to go out with his superior and interact with the kiln workers.
Lin Zhengcheng said slowly, "What could two men talk about besides the dry, boring official kiln business? Once they each had sons, over some wine, they would just talk about their families."
"It was actually settled early on: if the two families happened to have one boy and one girl, they would betroth them as children. But as luck would have it, both were boys, so that was off."
Lin Shouyi asked doubtfully, "Uncle Chen also drank?"
Lin Zhengcheng nodded. "He drank, and he could hold his liquor, but he wasn't fond of it. So every time I dragged him to drink, it was fine at the kiln site—he'd just fall asleep where he sat. But if it was in town, he'd sneak off like a thief. I was always puzzled. He wasn't the kind of man who was afraid of his wife. His wife was known for being gentle and soft. I never got a chance to ask. I always thought there would be more opportunities later, but to this day, I still haven't figured it out."
"Back then, I was on the public payroll. Our Lin family wasn't like the big surnames on Fortune Street or Peach Leaf Lane, but we were reasonably well-off—much more than him. But whenever we drank, if I treated one time, he would inevitably pay for the next. And he wouldn't deliberately buy the expensive stuff—it was just a gesture."
"An honest man isn't stupid. A dutiful man isn't rigid. A sense of propriety can't be learned just from books, and even if you cultivate in officialdom, you might not acquire it. Eating a few losses doesn't necessarily give you that sense."
"I said back then that my son was clever, precocious, clearly a scholar. Maybe when he grew up, he could become a teacher. He said his boy was sensible, and his looks and temperament took after his mother. He said that when the time came for him to go to school, learn to read and write, whether he wanted to be a kiln worker in the future was up to the child himself."
Lin Shouyi listened with rapt attention.
Not only because his father was talking about old stories he had never mentioned before.
But also because it was the first time his father had spoken to him without sounding harsh.
Lin Zhengcheng gently set down his wine bowl. "Someone leaked the inside story of the life-bound porcelain to him."
The man narrowed his eyes. "That person had malicious intent. They deliberately only told part of the truth. In my opinion, the fact that all children have life-bound porcelain from birth isn't entirely a bad thing. To put it bluntly, given the situation back then, only by holding onto the life-bound porcelain and having that cultivation aptitude could there be a glimmer of hope."
"Later, when those two funerals on Mud Bottle Alley happened, I didn't show up. It wasn't appropriate. There are things in this you don't need to know. But I did send word to the Yang family shop. The old man at the back, Old Yang, had strict rules. There was only so much I could do to help. On this matter, I do feel guilty. As a friend, I had the heart but not the strength. I couldn't take care of his son."
The man sighed, his face crumpled, then relaxed. Saying more was useless. He drained the bowl of wine in one gulp, ready to dismiss him.
Lin Shouyi said, "I'm going into seclusion."
"Do you need money?"
"I have a shortfall of about a hundred Grain Rain coins before."
"Forget I asked."
The man immediately said, "Whether you steal or rob, don't go to my quiet little office. The Ministry of Revenue—don't go there either. Strict controls. The Ministry of Rites, on the other hand, has a decent slush fund."
The man said this without any embarrassment.
Lin Shouyi was stunned.
Lin Zhengcheng glanced at his son. A Nascent Soul realm cultivator going into seclusion must consume heavenly treasures, and converted to spirit coins, it would be at most forty or fifty Grain Rain coins. He hadn't expected to have such a spendthrift.
Look at Chen Ping'an, look at Dong Shuijing—everyone was like swallows gathering mud, adding to their family treasure year after year, building a solid foundation.
Only he had produced such a good son.
Lin Shouyi said softly, "In that case, why didn't you say it earlier? It made him worry all these years. Chen Ping'an must have had a hard time in his heart."
The man twitched the corner of his mouth. "By any measure, I'm half an elder to Chen Ping'an. If he doesn't come to me, am I supposed to go to him? This kid doesn't understand etiquette. As an elder, am I supposed to lose face too?"
According to town custom, during the New Year, visits between relatives had strict order: who had higher seniority, or among the same generation who was older, who paid respects to whom first. You couldn't mess it up, or people would laugh at you and there would be a flood of gossip. What's more, it would be brought up every year. This seemingly minor matter of "etiquette" was something the locals talked about with relish, sometimes even more than who had climbed the widow's wall or which wife was cheating on her husband.
Besides, was it necessarily good to say it early?
Lin Shouyi knew he should go now. After holding back for a long time, he just called out, "Dad."
The man habitually twitched the corner of his mouth, a mirthless smile. First, he scoffed, then said, "I thought I was raising an ancestor."
Lin Shouyi pretended not to hear. He said goodbye to his father, got off the bed, and walked to the door. The man suddenly said, "Since we've cleared things up today, after you come out of seclusion, go tell Chen Ping'an clearly."
Lin Shouyi nodded.
The man looked at Lin Shouyi. A total blockhead. Seeing that his son hadn't understood his meaning, he had to put on a stern face and say, "Make sure he comes here to pay New Year's respects."
Lin Shouyi suppressed a smile and immediately agreed. This heart-to-heart talk with his father today made Lin Shouyi feel as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt entirely light.
The man said finally, "Since you two are friends, during holidays, don't talk about gifts. It's like back home—don't be lacking in courtesy, just a token is fine. Also, when you lend money to a friend, it's best to treat it like water poured out on the ground. Don't expect them to pay it back."
Lin Shouyi was speechless. Was he supposed to convey this principle to Chen Ping'an?
Old ginger is indeed the spiciest.
The man asked, "What are you standing there for, a door god? Or do you want me to see you out? Should I first go borrow a sedan chair with eight bearers?"
After Lin Shouyi left, the man filled the empty wine bowl to the brim and muttered to himself, "My son's not bad either."
***
An old man and two young people handed in their travel permits and smoothly entered the capital of the Yu Dynasty.
Passing through the city gate tunnel, the view suddenly opened up. After walking a stretch of the bustling capital, the youth bid farewell to the old Taoist and the young female priest with a bow and smile, and they parted ways.
Earlier, the city gate commandant responsible for capital access couldn't help but turn back to look at the white-clad youth gradually receding into the distance. He clicked his tongue in wonder. He was lucky enough to have encountered an immortal master from Old Dragon City in Vase Bottle Continent. To be precise, he should be honored as a "supreme master." As for how the term "supreme master" had spread through the court and countryside, its origin was untraceable. It was quite scholarly—both an abbreviation of "mountain immortal master" and carrying a natural respect.
The commandant, clad in armor and bearing a sword, didn't know how things were in other kingdoms on Parasol Leaf Continent. In his own Luo capital, cultivators from Vase Bottle Continent, especially those from Old Dragon City, were indeed a cut above.
As for the other two Taoists, they were insignificant. They were from the Liang Kingdom, a tiny place, a small pond that couldn't produce a dragon that crossed the river.
The Outer-Surname Grand Heavenly Master of Dragon Tiger Mountain, Old True Man Liang Shuang, had changed into a more inconspicuous plain Taoist robe this time. From the robe and hat alone, outsiders couldn't tell his Daoist lineage.
The female disciple beside him held her hands loosely in front of her, as if holding incense. In fact, there was a stick of clear incense. This was a unique Daoist practice created by Liang Shuang, symbolizing "a wisp of heart incense opens the cave." However, the old True Man had cast a spell of illusion on his disciple.
The young female priest was quite curious about this Luo capital and looked around. Even distracted, she didn't neglect her cultivation. The old True Man didn't deliberately restrict his disciple's nature.
According to his master, this time he was traveling to meet the direct disciple of an old friend, who came from a mountain in North Jambu Continent.
She knew nothing about mountain affairs, only that North Jambu Continent was one of the nine continents of the Haoran Realm, located north of Parasol Leaf Continent.
Coming to Luo capital was just a stop along the way. And on the road, they had met a youth who was quite good at chess. His surname was Cui, given name Dongshan.
He said he had come to Luo capital as a guest on his master's orders, to look up two venerable mountain friends and catch up.
Liang Shuang didn't say much to his disciple. Actually, the reason he left Liang Kingdom was that Cui Dongshan had invited him, saying there was a small merit waiting for the old True Man in the Yu Dynasty.
The old True Man just sighed. National destiny outweighs human destiny; heavenly destiny outweighs national destiny.
Don't be fooled by the current splendor of Luo capital, with its bustling traffic and scenes of peace and prosperity. Beneath the surface, the hearts of men were a twisted mess, a consequence of that great war. Take those "former court" ministers who had survived by luck—early on, within their own doors, who didn't have some unspeakable, even horrendous, filth? Rites and music had collapsed, social norms shattered. Liang Shuang, standing in this capital, didn't feel much heavy yin qi or unyielding resentment. The unquiet spirits here were even less than in any ghost city of the old Dayuan Dynasty. But the filthy qi that hit him in the face made even a Flying Immortal realm grand cultivator like the old True Man sigh in helplessness. Just sigh after sigh.
Liang Shuang thought to himself that even if he became the "paperhanger of human hearts" for this Yu Dynasty, it would take three generations—at least sixty years, even a hundred—before the atmosphere of people's hearts could truly recover to what it was before the war.
What would that young man, also an outsider, do?
He would be staying on Parasol Leaf Continent for a while. He could wait and see.
Between the palace city and the imperial city stood an ancient Taoist temple with a long history. Its roof was covered with green glazed tiles fired in the official royal kilns. It was called the Accumulated Green Temple.
The old True Man submitted his name card to the temple's reception Taoist. His identity on the travel permit was Liang Hao from Liang Kingdom, with the Taoist name "Shuang Zhen." His disciple was Ma Xuanhui, who had no Taoist name yet.
Unlike the ignorant city gate commandant, the reception Taoist of Accumulated Green Temple knew that the current national protector true man of Liang Kingdom was indeed named Liang Hao.
But he was probably just a beggar looking for handouts at their temple.
Still, fellow Daoists are all from one family. Itinerant Taoist practitioners, unlike ordinary registered immortals, often stay at local temples.
Since the visitor was at least a national protector true man, the reception Taoist immediately notified the temple's master, who was also the current female national teacher of the Yu Dynasty.
A beautiful female priest, appearing about thirty years old, wearing a Taizhen crown, with a pair of immortal shoes decorated with green lotus and white lotus, and holding a dust whisk in her hand.
She moved with a fragrant breeze, her body surrounded by the aroma of orchids and cinnamon—rich and refreshing.
This was the master of Accumulated Green Temple, the national teacher of the Yu Dynasty, Lü Bicheng, with the Taoist name "Full Moon."
This female temple master, honored as the national teacher, had a dignified bearing. At first glance, if not for her Taoist robes identifying her, she would look more like a motherly empress. She smiled and asked, "May I ask what instruction Fellow Daoist Shuang Zhen brings to our door?"
The old True Man lifted his foot and laughed heartily. "Your poor Daoist was able to step over such a high threshold into Accumulated Green Temple only because Fellow Daoist Full Moon is so approachable."
Both host and guest happened to be national protector true men.
But compared to the vast territory of the Yu Dynasty, the Liang Kingdom was barely a speck.
Lü Bicheng dismissed it with a smile. Oh, he sounds a bit sarcastic. Could it be that a malicious guest has come? Doesn't seem like someone who wants to build a relationship with Accumulated Green Temple.
The old True Man shook his head and clicked his tongue. "A fine lady indeed—what a pity she chose to be a thief."
Lü Bicheng, unmoved, shifted her dust whisk to the other hand and smiled. "What does the fellow Daoist mean by this?"
The old True Man sighed. "Dwelling in seclusion to cultivate immortality, yin and yang creating, square and round forming heaven and earth. Though this is not due to the work of rulers and compasses, since both you and I are in the mundane world, polishing our Dao hearts, we must speak of: no rules, no square or circle."
Lü Bicheng was amused. Such boastful talk, starting with the Great Dao. A Taoist from Liang Kingdom speaking so grandly—you must have come to the wrong place to find the wrong person.
The old True Man laughed. "Poor Daoist is currently only a name on the roster at the Dragon Tiger Mountain Celestial Master Mansion, just scraping by. Don't worry that I have some unshakeable backing or a terrifying lineage. Today, I came to Accumulated Green Temple in Luo capital just to ask for an explanation and a question."
Lü Bicheng didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Putting on an act without even a decent pretext. She was a bit impatient, and flicked her dust whisk, ready to see him out.
If he had come to the Accumulated Green Temple to beg for some spirit coins, or ask her to find some generous patrons in Luo capital, she could have brushed him off easily.
Who didn't know that the noble figures of the Celestial Master Mansion, when they traveled down the mountain, always carried a peachwood sword and had a very specific style of Taoist robe. Even if they didn't wear the yellow or purple robes, they were instantly recognizable, never hiding their lineage. In history, there had been no shortage of reckless cultivators who defied death and didn't believe the warnings, deliberately crossing swords with Dragon Tiger Mountain heavenly masters who came down to exorcise demons. Many had even died in foreign lands. But without exception, a new heavenly master from the mansion would soon come to investigate thoroughly, regardless of the cost. So later, whether it was various demons and monsters or rogue cultivators from all continents, whenever they met a Taoist from the Celestial Master Mansion on a training journey, they would either hide or run.
Liang Shuang slightly relaxed his restraints. His Dao qi flourished, his immortal aura ethereal. In an instant, the dragon qi of the capital was suppressed like a small earth snake, trembling and crawling on the ground. The old True Man said self-deprecatingly, "As another Outer-Surname Heavenly Master of Dragon Tiger Mountain, it seems I am indeed not as famous as Fellow Daoist Fire Dragon."
Lü Bicheng felt like she'd been struck by lightning. Her face pale, she said in a trembling voice, "Grand Heavenly Master Liang, all I did back then was lead the Yu royal family to take refuge. It's not a capital offense."
The old True Man's smile was meaningful. "Oh? You call the shots, do you? Then if I said a single lightning spell would kill Zhou Mi, why doesn't Zhou Mi die?"
Lü Bicheng steeled her heart. Since a Dragon Tiger Mountain Outer-Surname Grand Heavenly Master had descended upon Accumulated Green Temple, there was no way to resolve this peacefully. She mustered her last strength to steady her Dao heart, her gaze firm. "Moreover, even if I have faults, it's not for a Taoist from the Celestial Master Mansion to criticize me. The final judgment must be made by the Confucian Temple!"
Liang Shuang withdrew his Dao aura and chuckled, as if acknowledging this point. He changed the subject and asked, "That 'Child Emperor' who willingly recognized barbarian beasts as his ancestors—how exactly did he die suddenly in the palace?"
Lü Bicheng was silent for a moment, then said, "It seems a female assassin slipped into his room, cut off his head, and threw it onto the dragon throne. She came and went without a trace. The barbarian military camps couldn't find any clues, so they had to let it go and just strengthen their guard."
Liang Shuang stroked his beard and smiled. "Such a familiar modus operandi."
This kind of assassin, without a famous name, was known in the mountains as a "Righter of Wrongs."
They could be roughly divided into two lines, based on whether they acted by day or by night. One type liked to kill in broad daylight in the middle of a bustling city.
For example, that woman who was considered half a fellow townsman of Bai Yi—she was an outstanding example of this line.
The other type moved by night, favored assassinations, and used daggers, soft swords, sleeve arrows, and the like with consummate skill. Naturally, all of these were mountain-refined magical artifacts.
Liu Taozhi, and also those like the unknown Cherry Green Robe and the Western Mountain Sword Seclusion—these land sword immortals—were all in this category.
These people were mostly taken into the mountains as children, recognized for their talent. After at least ten years, or up to sixty, they would descend the mountain for training. They liked to cut paper into talisman horses and donkeys, and their style was decisive. Most of them acted for the common people's grievances and stood up for the weak—emperors and ministers unworthy of their virtue; corrupt officials; cruel rogue cultivators roaming the wilds; malicious but well-concealed registered immortals—all were targets.
It was just that such assassinations were easily seen in the Haoran Realm as personal vendettas, so they never drew much attention from the mountain-top cultivators.
Liang Shuang had only once, by chance, in a desolate wilderness with thin spiritual qi, seen two slender figures. They were biting daggers and climbing on a cliff face, as nimble as apes. It seemed they were also blocking each other's ascent. One young girl had a broken branch thrown at her like a flying sword by her climbing companion. She couldn't dodge, and it struck her head. If she hadn't grabbed a vine during the fall, she would have died. Hanging onto the vine, still in peril, swinging in the wind, while the other girl didn't rush to climb. Instead, she took stones from a waist pouch and tossed them.
They appeared to be about eleven or twelve years old. Their cultivation realms were negligible—only at the fourth realm, not even at the cave abode realm. But their eyes, and the aura of total disregard for life and death, left a deep impression on the old True Man.
Liang Shuang became curious about the children's teacher. After all, where else could one cultivate? The old True Man concealed himself and waited on a nearby mountain for a few days. Finally, he saw a female cultivator who had preserved her youthful appearance. She was at the Nascent Soul realm. She was then bringing a girl of about ten into the mountains—a new disciple, seemingly abducted from a wealthy family. Later, the female cultivator took the girl who had climbed to the top first on a journey to a prefectural city a few thousand miles away. Eventually, the girl held the topknot of the severed head she had, gently lifted it, and met its gaze.
The girl's eyes were cold at that moment, her Dao heart still as an ancient well.
That scene left the old True Man with complicated feelings. He quietly left and returned to his own temple. Later, when Little Zhao of Dragon Tiger Mountain visited, the old True Man recalled the encounter and asked about it. Little Zhao also had no idea. Zhao Tianlai had only left his senior's temple, returned to Dragon Tiger Mountain, and after a few years, sent a talisman letter, which laid out a rough outline.
Moreover, Little Zhao speculated that these assassins, though seemingly scattered and acting independently without communicating with each other, had a deep history. Exactly who gave orders, the Dragon Tiger Mountain would need to investigate further.
Liang Shuang smiled. "Since the serious business is done, let me ask your Accumulated Green Temple for a cup of tea."
Lü Bicheng felt dead at heart. Her expression gloomy, she led the old True Man and the young female priest to a refined room in the temple. Absent-mindedly, she dutifully prepared tea for her guests.
Liang Shuang received a cup of tea, smiled and said thanks, took a sip of the clear tea, and nodded. "Good tea. 'When walking on a narrow path, leave a step for others to walk on—that is walking the Great Dao. When flavors are rich, reduce them by three parts and let others taste—that is the true flavor.'"
Just as Cui Dongshan had said on the way, this Lü Bicheng of Accumulated Green Temple was just greedy for life and afraid of death, urging the Yu emperor to flee to safety. She had no collusion with the barbarian spirits. Still, it didn't hurt to give her a scare. As she herself said, how she would be dealt with later was up to the academies and the Confucian Temple.
Liang Shuang looked out at a centuries-old peony in the courtyard. In this late winter season, it still bloomed brilliantly. In another hundred or so years, it might be able to give birth to a flower spirit.
The old True Man drank tea like wine, full of swagger. He again proffered his bowl. "Fill it up."
You disciples of the Wen Sage's lineage sure love to scare people, don't you?
The senior brother props up the collapsing sky; the junior brother fills the gap in the earth.