Chapter 928: Borrowing a Thousand Mountains and Ten Thousand Rivers from You (9)
Yangzhi suddenly asked through heart voice, “Can I have a few words with that fellow Daoist?”
Chen Ping’an stopped walking, adjusted his bamboo hat, and seemed to be discussing something with someone.
A moment later, the distant sound of camel bells arose. On the yellow sand ancient road, camel bells chimed leisurely. Someone wearing a veiled hat and a green robe, leading a white camel, approached unhurriedly.
The great sun hung in the sky, baking the earth, distorting the light. The drinkers at the table inside the shop who had been playing finger-guessing games all shifted their gazes and whispered among themselves. When the arm leading the camel revealed a wrist as white as a lotus root, they began to guess the woman’s age, wondering what her face looked like, whether she might be a relative of the wine-selling woman, how old she was, whether she was married…
But soon, this was overshadowed by another strange sight. In the distant sky, a chariot swept across mountain peaks, racing toward the tavern with great speed. The inspection procession was grand: civil and military attendants, divine maidens and palace ladies, nearly twenty figures in total. The spectacle was like the imperial inspectors from those official case stories, wielding the imperial sword of authority, beating gongs to clear the way, with clerks carrying two signs that read “Mountain solemn, water calm” and “Strangers avoid.” The biggest difference was that one was on the ground, the other in the sky.
Chen Ping’an nodded to Qingtong, who had walked up beside him, then raised his gaze. He saw inside the yellow-canopied, blue-oiled carriage a youth of magnificent bearing, with a face as white as jade and light golden eyes. That youth was looking down toward the tavern, but after a single glance at the two passersby, he paid them no more heed. Using qi observation, he saw only a fifth-tier martial artist and a female cultivator at the Cavern Dwelling stage. Such a pair of Dao companions from the mountains would be more than enough to be honored guests of the mountain god Gong Xinzhou, but they were hardly worth his attention.
The large table of goblins and mountain spirits who had been playing finger-guessing games all stopped their shouting, hastily put on their clothes, grabbing whatever garments were nearest. In the end, there was the ridiculous sight of thin men in loose robes and fat men in tight clothes, but time was pressing and they couldn’t change back. Their heads suddenly swelled like gourds—everyone knew that this Prefect cared most about meaningless formalities. They only hoped not to be given trouble because of such petty matters.
The local mountain god and the young river goddess had already left the table and come outside the shop to welcome the carriage of their superior.
As one party came out and the other went in, they happened to brush past the man in the blue shirt and bamboo hat and the “woman” in the veiled hat.
Qingtong walked to the table, didn’t remove her veiled hat, only lifted a corner to look at Yangzhi, and said in a crisp voice, “Daoist Yangzhi, just call me Qingtong.”
The minor illusion Yangzhi had cast was meaningless to Qingtong. And on Tongye Continent, Qingtong had often seen Yangzhi’s shadow. It was impossible not to feel envious. Back then, Yangzhi, as the former master of the Yeluo River, one of the fourteen old throne-realm great demons, commanding two military camps in the Wildlands, was still above Concubine Crimson in status. Truly, she had held great power and had a promising path to the Dao.
“Sit wherever you like.”
Yangzhi pointed to the bench beside the table with a cattail-leaf fan in her hand, smiling, “As a prisoner, I can’t really observe any guest etiquette.”
After Chen Ping’an sat down again, Yangzhi asked, “Did someone forget to pay for the wine?”
Chen Ping’an chuckled, “We haven’t left yet. Perfect timing to settle both old and new accounts.”
Yangzhi pretended not to catch the hidden meaning, turned to look at Qingtong, gently waving her fan. “Over at the Sword Qi Great Wall, they all say doing business with the Hidden Lord is a sure profit—bet big and win big. Qingtong, you have good eyes.”
Qingtong let out a faint sigh, speaking frankly, “It was just a necessity. First I had to spar with the Hidden Lord, then take a sword challenge from Xiao Mo. If I still didn’t know my place, the Hidden Lord would have moved half the Sword Qi Great Wall to Tongye Continent. What else could I do?”
Yangzhi smiled, “Sword challenge? Xiao Mo?”
Qingtong’s expression changed slightly as she thought of that fellow who had once restored his peak state in the Demon Suppression Tower, and she became even more resigned. “You already guessed his identity earlier. Now he follows the Hidden Lord, somehow considers himself a death warrior, and has become a nominal guest elder of Fallen Mountain. At the Literary Academy, he goes by the alias Mosheng, Dao name ‘Joy Candle,’ and usually calls himself Xiao Mo.”
Yangzhi stopped fanning, curious. “Compared to ten thousand years ago, how much has his swordsmanship improved?”
Qingtong smiled bitterly, “Back then, I didn’t know the details of his swordsmanship.”
Yangzhi nodded. In the old days of the human world, aside from that small handful of peak sword immortals, she, Yangzhi, was probably the most qualified to comment on Xiao Mo’s swordsmanship.
If Xiao Mo and those ancient great demons who had slept for ten thousand years had awoken a few years earlier, one by one occupying the throne seats in the Hall of Heroes… Could they have fought alongside us fourteen old throne-realm great demons?
Then in that previous war, the various Wildlands military camps could have just pushed straight through. Not to say they would definitely take the deeply rooted Central Continent, but first, Southern Poshua Continent wouldn’t have remained unbreachable for so long. Perhaps the refined Confucian Chen Chun’an could have kept a good reputation? Second, west of Golden Armor Continent, Liuxia Continent would have been taken in stride. The fence-sitters of Aiai Continent would have bent with the wind. Especially that Baoping Continent—no matter who rules the Righteous Qi world now, Yangzhi could be certain of one thing: when the war ended, that continent would be utterly shattered, leaving no Baoping Continent in the human world. Even if Su Zi and Liu Qi returned to Righteous Qi, they would be futile. Perhaps besides Bai Ye, even the talisman master Yu Xuan would fall on Fuyao Continent…
As for herself, she wouldn’t have had her retreat blocked, wouldn’t have been imprisoned here, reduced to selling wine and reading books day after day to pass the time.
Qingtong looked around and said, “It seems the Literary Academy hasn’t set up any mountain-water prohibitions here?”
Yangzhi hummed in affirmation. “I had a gentleman’s agreement with Little Master. Within a thousand miles, I can walk freely. As long as I don’t kill indiscriminately, there are no taboos. And I don’t have to do anything for the Literary Academy. A prisoner like me is probably rare.”
Qingtong sincerely admired, “Little Master is truly magnanimous.”
When the two talked about Li Sheng, they still habitually called him Little Master.
Yangzhi laughed. “Our Lord Bai Ze, for all his virtues, I always feel he’s still a bit lacking compared to Little Master.”
Qingtong tested, “Is it because Lord Bai Ze isn’t ruthless enough?”
Yangzhi thought for a moment. “Hard to say.”
It sounded like two market women complaining about trivial household matters.
Chen Ping’an paid more attention to the carriage side, listening to their chat as entertainment. Nothing unfamiliar—except the topics were a bit grander; otherwise, it was no different from the gossip of women by the iron lock well in his hometown streets.
Yangzhi glanced at the young Hidden Lord, who had his hands in his sleeves, and teased Qingtong, “Isn’t this your karmic nemesis with sword cultivators?”
Qingtong sighed mournfully. “Who says it isn’t? I just have to endure.”
Yangzhi smiled, “Better than me, anyway, comparing up is worse, comparing down is better.”
If she hadn’t called Qingtong over to chat about this and that, it would have been fine—her Dao heart would have been stagnant water. But once they started talking, Yangzhi couldn’t help feeling short of breath, the more she thought, the more aggrieved she became.
There had been many spies and death warriors from the Wildlands planted in the Sword Qi Great Wall, so the Jiazi Tent knew many inside stories. And because of Ning Yao, they had paid more attention to a young outsider who wasn’t even a sword cultivator. Back then, even the local Jade Purity stage sword immortal of the Sword Qi Great Wall, Lie Ji, had secretly defected to the Wildlands. If Lie Ji hadn’t missed on the city wall and had instead cut down Chen Ping’an, who had only recently become Hidden Lord, perhaps all the later events wouldn’t have happened.
Maybe the entire momentum of both worlds would have changed immeasurably.
Pity—Lie Ji’s life-bound flying sword, “Blazing Flowers,” was first blocked by Mi Yu’s sword, then bound for a moment by Chen Ping’an, who wore two dharma robes and used a sword-sealing talisman. In the end, Lie Ji had to shatter his life-bound flying sword, but only managed to severely injure Chen Ping’an. No help for it—in many matters, being a little off is the same as being a thousand miles off.
But that Mi Yu, who after reaching the upper five realms had just coasted along, was indeed something. No wonder he had earned the nickname “Mi Lanyao” when he was a terrestrial immortal. On the city wall that day, he didn’t hesitate to strike. With his “Full of Rosy Clouds,” he bought the new Hidden Lord precious time. Then he drew his sword and, in one stroke, cleaved that former friend Lie Ji from shoulder down, splitting his body in two.
A sword cultivator from the Righteous Qi world, even if of higher realm than Mi Yu, would certainly be a bit more hesitant, unable to kill as… without thinking.
At that time during the incident on the city wall, Yangzhi was in the Jiazi Tent, watching the whole process together with the Grand Ancestor of Tuoyue Mountain and Wenhai Zhoumi.
Zhoumi had joked that it was a pity Mi Yu had been self-bound for so many years. If he had succeeded in breaking through and managed to reach the Flying Ascension stage, perhaps the Sword Qi Great Wall would have gained another Dong San’geng.
The Grand Ancestor of Tuoyue Mountain even specifically asked whether Mi Yu could be recruited. The one who answered was the Sword Immortal Shouchen, saying that if not for his elder brother Mi Hu, there would be a chance to make Mi Yu defect to the Wildlands.
Yangzhi saw Chen Ping’an’s smile turn meaningful and immediately sensed something wrong. Startled, she said harshly, “You can eavesdrop on thoughts?”
Chen Ping’an smiled. “Don’t forget where you are right now. Do you really think this is your territory? When a Flying Ascension cultivator’s heartstrings tremble, it’s as loud as thunder. Even if I cover my ears with both hands, I can still hear. What do you want me to do?”
Yangzhi glared at Qingtong. Qingtong said full of grievance, “Sister Yangzhi, we may be familiar, but don’t forget, the Hidden Lord and I are on the same side.”
Chen Ping’an suppressed the discomfort—it wasn’t the first time. When he and Lu Tai traveled Tongye Continent together, he had often gotten goosebumps too. You just get used to it.
Yangzhi said irritably, “Wine is self-service.”
Chen Ping’an went to the wine jar covered with a plank, lifted the lid, took a bamboo ladle hanging on the edge, ladled two bowls of wine for himself and Qingtong, then sat back down. Smiling, he asked, “What’s that one’s background? Fifth Mountain Lord’s retinue, but only bearing the Mountain God Mansion plaque?”
Yangzhi said, “Named Mei He. Once a minor state mountain lord. Times changed, the state changed its surname. He bet wrong, so the new emperor held a grudge, found a way to strip him of his mountain lord title and demote him to a local mountain god. Anyway, no one here cares about such red tape. Mei He now administers ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers, but his cultivation is shallow—just a minor Golden Core. The Literary Academy clearly didn’t notify him, so he doesn’t know I’m imprisoned here, nor does he know the true origin of this place. He just takes this volcanic range as a mediocre, low-qi area, and me as a Dragon Gate cultivator amusing myself in the human world. Probably because I cultivate fire methods, I settled here and formed a Golden Core. He thinks he can collect road tolls and settlement fees from me. Over the years, he’s hinted twice. I pretended not to understand. This time, he’s probably coming to give me an ultimatum.”
Yangzhi couldn’t be bothered to look at Mei He again. “According to what the guests whisper, this fellow was an official in his past life, a pretty high one—some scholar, minister, editor-in-chief—with posthumous titles and honors piled up. I still can’t figure out the details. He talks in a flowery, roundabout way. Chatting with him is exhausting.”
Chen Ping’an took a sip of wine and nodded. “Half-baked scholars never want to speak plainly.”
Yangzhi looked at him oddly. He liked insulting himself that much?
Earlier, the touring carriage, after approaching the mountain god shrine and river goddess temple near the tavern, deliberately slowed down, as if to give these loafing drunkards time to prepare for the reception.
The old mountain god was named Gong Xinzhou. According to the Literary Academy’s gold and jade register, his current official rank was the seventh grade.
The river goddess, who looked like a young girl, was named Ganzhou. She managed the river near the tavern, called Chaoqiu. Like river lords and land spirits, she was at the bottom of the mountain-water register, even below a city god.
The girl muttered, “Showing off again. Annoying.”
The old mountain god quickly reminded, “One rank higher crushes a man. Count how many ranks higher he is than us? When you see Mountain Lord Mei later, don’t pull that sour face again like last time. The steward of Mei Mountain Lord’s mansion came to drink here once—I have a bit of a connection with him. He secretly told me that the Inspection Department of Qingyun Mansion already has complaints about you. Next year’s mountain-water evaluation, you’ll probably be at the bottom again.”
The girl said crossly, “So what if I’m at the bottom? I’m not looking for promotion or wealth. I’m just a lowly river goddess—can’t be demoted further. A thankless job with no perks, my official purse so dry I can’t even scrape together a Minor Heat coin. Everyone knows the state of my Chaoqiu River. The city god must be laughing his teeth out. Even if that Mei fires me on the spot, Old Gong, ask those delicate divine maidens in Qingyun Mansion—would any of them be willing to come suffer here? If one of them agrees, I swear I’ll quit. Let someone else be river goddess. I’ll just hang out with you, Old Gong.”
The old mountain god nearly rolled his eyes. Hang out with me? You’re poor, and I’m scrimping to save a few coins myself. How can I afford to keep this little mistress in big bowls of wine and big chunks of meat? And if someday you want to marry, who will pay the dowry? Gong Xinzhou had to continue his earnest advice, “Trust me—always smile at people. Chaoqiu may be small, but it’s your own. Close the door and no one bullies you.”
The goblins who had finally managed to change into proper clothes were cowering behind the mountain god and river goddess, constantly shaking their garments to dissipate the heavy smell of wine.
A starved camel is still bigger than a horse. Even if Mei He was no longer a mountain lord, he was still a mountain god with his own mansion. His shrine built on Paoma Ridge was truly magnificent. Every time the mountain lord toured, it shook the earth. And look at Old Gong, standing in front rubbing his hands—also a mountain god, but his broken-down house wasn’t even fit to carry Mei’s shoes or empty his chamber pot.
And there were vivid rumors that at the Qingyun Mansion’s Prefect’s birthday banquet every sixty years, one could always see several sword lights that would scare a ghost to death.
Yangzhi glanced at Mei He, who had a youthful appearance, and asked, “This fellow has a jade plaque at his waist with the words ‘Cool Wind at the Edge of the Sky.’ What does it mean? Is there a significance?”
Chen Ping’an chuckled. “Nothing major. Just a self-pitying complaint. Roughly meaning he feels he’s been exiled to the ends of the earth, far from court, in the rivers and lakes, with high heaven and distant emperor, unable to realize his ambitions. I suppose you could call him a refined idle rich man who thinks highly of himself?”
Yangzhi said with admiration, “You literati really hit the nail on the head when judging others.”
Chen Ping’an asked, “Has he never suspected that you might be a hidden realm expert?”
Yangzhi countered, “If it were you, in your hometown, if you saw someone selling wine by the roadside, would you think they were a terrestrial immortal?”
Chen Ping’an smiled. “Of course I would. Certainly.”
In my hometown, what’s a terrestrial immortal?
Even if by ‘terrestrial immortal’ Yangzhi meant the ancient terrestrial immortals, in Lizhu Cave Heaven, that’s still nothing.
In fact, the higher the realm, no matter the background, the more cautious one had to be.
Yangzhi was momentarily speechless.
She only then remembered that the young Hidden Lord’s hometown seemed to be Lizhu Cave Heaven.
She was too used to thinking of him as a native sword cultivator of the Sword Qi Great Wall.
As for Lizhu Cave Heaven, since Zhoumi used it as a place to ascend to heaven, it must be full of wonders.
The luxurious carriage slowly came to a stop on the ground. Gong Xinzhou tugged the girl’s sleeve and hurried forward, bowing deeply. “Xiangfei Mountain lesser god Gong Xinzhou, together with Chaoqiu River goddess Ganzhou, pay respects to Lord Mei.”
The goblins behind followed suit, bending and bowing to Lord Mei, making a noisy mess.
“All of you wait outside.”
Mei He issued an order to the mountain god mansion officials, then stepped out of the blue-oiled carriage, landed on the ground, and waved his sleeve. “Rise.”
Seeing that the three at the wine-selling woman’s table—two unfamiliar faces—were still drinking their own wine without getting up to greet him, the Prefect was inwardly displeased but didn’t show it on his face. These mud-legged wild cultivators from the mountains and marshes probably hadn’t read a single book in their lives; it was only natural they didn’t understand decorum. Why get angry?
Mei He entered the tavern, raised a hand to cover his nose, and frowned slightly. The old mountain god wiped the table with his sleeve. Ganzhou was about to sit down first, but Gong Xinzhou quickly reached out and stepped on her foot. The girl winced in pain and had to remain standing.
Mei He didn’t look directly at the goblins under his jurisdiction. He said casually, “Go drink somewhere else.”
The three tables in the tavern had just had a full house for the first time, but the drunkards all looked relieved and quickly fled.
Mei He exchanged some official words with Gong Xinzhou and Ganzhou, then turned to look at the wine-selling woman, asking with a smile, “Daoist Jingxing, have you ever considered finding a slightly better qi field here to open a mansion?”
Of the world’s famous mountains and great rivers, those with abundant qi and advantageous terrain were half taken by sects and immortal mansions, two-tenths by temples and Daoist abbeys, another two-tenths by mountain-water gods. Hence the saying that a small cave heaven costs a thousand gold. For loose cultivators with no standing, finding a good spot that could be called a Dao field was no easy matter.
This woman of unknown origin, in Mei He’s eyes, was just a wild cultivator hoping to form a Golden Core here. If she had that intention, Mei He had brought with him a geomantic map, on which he had already circled a few spots in red ink for her to choose. He had already given her plenty of face. She was a Dragon Gate stage qi refiner who hadn’t formed a Golden Core, while he was a proper Prefect, equivalent to a Golden Core terrestrial immortal, sitting in charge of mountains and rivers. Unless she was a sword cultivator, even a dragon would have to coil here!
Seeing that the woman only smiled without speaking, Mei He took out a porcelain bottle, uncorked it—a floral fragrance assailed his nose—sniffed it, and asked with a smile, “And these two?”
Yangzhi finally spoke. “They are two friends from the mountains. One is surnamed Chen, the other has the Dao name Qingtong. Neither are locals.”
Chen Ping’an shook his head with a smile. “Not friends. Come to collect a debt.”
Yangzhi kept her face calm, but inwardly she regretted not casually extending a finger to crush this fellow back then when he killed Lizhen and stood alone on the battlefield, sword in hand, pointing it at them, the old throne-realm great demons.
Now Yangzhi deliberately concealed her heart’s state, so Chen Ping’an could no longer hear that “heartstring vibration like thunder” of her thoughts.
“This Jingxing, don’t be fooled by her plain clothes—she’s actually quite wealthy. If Lord Mei is willing…”
Chen Ping’an raised one hand and waved it beside his neck. “After it’s done, we can split fifty-fifty.”
The young river goddess’s mouth fell open.
This outsider was so fierce.
He could talk about murder and robbery so openly?
The old mountain god stood as if carved from clay, his heart bitter. Would he be silenced?
Mei He looked at the blue-shirted guest who spoke so carelessly, smiled, and decided not to bother with him for the sake of the “Lord Mei” address.
Mei He didn’t want to waste time circling the matter with the woman. He went straight to the point, not giving her a chance to play ignorant. “Daoist Jingxing, if I remember correctly, forming a Golden Core consumes the qi and fortune of a region.”
Yangzhi said, “Forming a Golden Core? Are there terrestrial immortals with two Golden Cores in this world?”
Unexpectedly, Chen Ping’an immediately followed up with a remark that seemed highly undermining. “Actually, there are.”
Yangzhi wasn’t bothered by Chen Ping’an’s words, just curious. “Who?”
That would be rarer than a sword cultivator having three or four life-bound flying swords.
At the Literary Academy, Confucian sages had life-bound words. Certain Celestial Immortal Daoists of the White Jade Capital had divine protection. There were also Buddha’s arhats with indestructible vajra bodies…
But Yangzhi had never heard of a qi refiner who could have two Golden Cores.
Qingtong wanted to speak but hesitated, not wanting to leak heavenly secrets, so she just muddled through. “It does exist.”
Mei He was displeased. This woman was so ungrateful—he would teach her how to be a guest when he returned to his mountain god mansion.
But leaving like this would damage his face, so Mei He asked Gong Xinzhou, “Earlier I saw you inside the tavern flipping through a book.”
This Prefect was clearly used to speaking half a sentence and letting others guess the rest.
Gong Xinzhou quickly took out a brand-new book still smelling of ink from his sleeve and handed it to Mei He with a flattering smile. “It’s a newly printed seal manual. I had nothing to do, so I just leafed through it.”
He didn’t dare say the name directly, mainly because he wasn’t sure of one character’s pronunciation. As a military man, he was afraid of embarrassing himself.
Mei He took it, first scanned the preface, then flipped a few pages. “This ‘Two Hundred Sword Immortal Seal Manual,’ along with the previous ‘Hundred Sword Immortal Seal Manual,’ is just a patchwork item. In the eyes of true scholars, it’s a laughingstock. Both manuals and their seal stamps would only sell at the Sword Qi Great Wall. Placed here, ha—aside from the special identity of the carver—sales would be poor.”
The young river goddess looked at the old mountain god. The pronunciation of that character “皕” seemed different from what he’d said.
But she wasn’t interested in the contents of the manual anyway. Reading matters tired the eyes, but more so the heart.
The old mountain god explained to her via heart voice, “It’s a polyphonic character; I didn’t mispronounce it.”
Mei He flipped a few more pages. “Take this seal stamp, ‘Mountains and Rivers’—how can it be carved so fragmented? And this one, ‘Heroes’—it commits the error of being too delicate and coquettish. Obviously, this Hidden Lord spent his efforts on martial arts and swordsmanship, not much on calligraphy. But it’s understandable—he is a sword immortal.”
In the preface of this manual, there was a highly praising line: “The two manuals, hundred and double-hundred, broad as sea and vine; shelved high like a lonely monk.”
Mei He shook his head, tossed the manual onto the table, bent down and sniffed the floral scent from the bottle.
“A complete layman in the art of seals and stones.”
“Heh, young age, fame exceeds reality.”
Yangzhi looked at this Lord Mei with such a big mouth, then at the smiling Chen Ping’an beside her. It was utterly amusing. Lord Mei would never guess that the very person was sitting right here.
It was like a talisman maker criticizing Yu Xuan’s talisman arts in front of Yu Xuan himself—this is wrong, that’s no good.
Or a qi refiner practicing fire methods telling Fire Dragon True Person that his thunder method was passable, but his fire method was a bit lacking.
“The twenty-some seal imprints in this ‘Cosmetics Volume’ really show poor quality. It goes to show that this young Hidden Lord, though he might have some depth, is very limited.”
“‘Hair black as clouds, bright teeth and bright eyes,’ ‘green temples and slender waist’ and such—truly vulgar, unbearable to look at. I wonder how the Hidden Lord could set knife to seal for such things. To speak bluntly, the Hidden Lord’s skills in scholarship are quite ordinary.”
Yangzhi was clearly a little delighted. She hadn’t thought Lord Mei was so agreeable, nor that his words were so pleasant.
Chen Ping’an held his wine bowl, glanced at a few pages of the manual, and said, “The ‘Two Hundred Sword Immortal Seal Manual’ shouldn’t have any of these seal imprints specifically describing women’s appearances.”
Gong Xinzhou immediately took offense. “And how would you know that?”
Chen Ping’an smiled. “At least the first edition of the manual definitely didn’t have such content. If I remember correctly, there weren’t any fancy layouts like ‘Cosmetics Volume’ or ‘Drinking Volume’ either.”
Gong Xinzhou sneered. “The first edition of this manual is extremely rare. Have you actually seen it with your own eyes? Young man, at least draft a draft before you brag.”
While speaking rudely, the old mountain god gave the blue-shirted guest a meaningful wink—outside, don’t fight over pride.
Outsider, why are you so tactless, not at all able to read the room? Can’t you see Lord Mei’s expression has already changed?
Yangzhi waved her fan, smiling. “Lord Mei, regarding spending money to buy that Dao field, I’ll come to Qingyun Mansion in person later to discuss it. For now, let’s leave it. I have guests.”
She was worried that this Mei He might get himself killed in a disagreement.
Mei He, though curious why she had changed her mind, didn’t think much of it. He rose and left, boarded his blue-oiled carriage, and rode back like a cloud.
Gong Xinzhou pulled the young river goddess to see him off. Only when the carriage was out of sight did they return to the tavern to continue drinking. The bowls on the table were empty, so each took a bowl and walked toward the wine jar. The blue-shirted man was already standing there. When the old mountain god went to ladle wine, this outsider who didn’t understand worldly affairs finally seemed to have a clue—instead of just filling his own bowl, he actively helped ladle. The old mountain god sighed inwardly. Why couldn’t he have done that earlier? Why did he have to argue openly with Lord Mei over trivialities?
Chen Ping’an sat back down and said with a chuckle, “My seals fill the world; most are forgeries.”
Yangzhi asked casually, “Do you hate Lie Ji?”
Perhaps because of Lie Ji’s sword strike, Chen Ping’an had later secretly left the Summer Retreat Palace, gone to the prison, met the Tailor, been able to bear the true names of demons, and merged with half the Sword Qi Great Wall…
An inevitable event was really made up of countless contingencies.
Chen Ping’an shook his head. “Why would I hate him? There’s reason but no principle.”
Back then, the native sword cultivators of the Sword Qi Great Wall—like Xiao Xun, Luoshan, Bamboo Hermit—those who defected, those like Lie Ji who died on the wall, or those like Zhang Lu who chose to look on from the sidelines from beginning to end—they might not have been enticed by benefits from the Wildlands. They might simply have disliked the Righteous Qi world, not wanting that world, which had been peaceful for ten thousand years, to continue peacefully for another ten thousand.
Those sword cultivators respected Chen Qingdu, who had guarded the city wall for ten thousand years, but deep down they certainly didn’t approve of the old sword immortal’s choices. They felt it was too cowardly, too stifling.
As for Lie Ji, he was actually one of the first upper-five-realm sword cultivators to go to the small tavern to buy wine.
That year on the city wall, Chen Ping’an had taken from Lie Ji a gourd of wine he had brewed himself, a Bamboo Sea Cave Heaven wine.
Who would have thought that taking that gourd would be a life-threatening sword lesson?
Chen Ping’an raised his wine bowl, tilted it slightly in some direction, then drained it in one gulp.
That didn’t stop them from determining life and death on certain battlefields, nor did it prevent Lie Ji and his kind from being, in Chen Ping’an’s heart, pure sword cultivators.
Yangzhi recalled something. “Mi Yu made a strike on the Old Dragon City battlefield. I heard he left the Sword Qi Great Wall to join your Fallen Mountain?”
Chen Ping’an nodded.
Yangzhi asked, “He still hasn’t broken through?”
Chen Ping’an smiled. “Soon, maybe.”
Yangzhi dismissed it. “After breaking through and becoming a great sword immortal in Righteous Qi, what’s the point? If you ask me, someone with a pure sword heart like Mi Yu should have followed Xiao Xun to the Wildlands. Staying here, especially with a registered identity, only ties him down. Like a government clerk—need to report for even a trip outside. Why bother?”
“Don’t judge others by yourself.”
Chen Ping’an shook his head. “Since you’re not a sword cultivator, don’t teach sword cultivators what to do.”
Not wanting to discuss further, Chen Ping’an glanced at the young river goddess. “Selling wine here every day, idle anyway, haven’t you thought of taking Ganzhou as an unregistered disciple and teaching her a water method or two?”
This Chaoqiu river goddess seemed to have a life-bound object called the Snake Coil Mirror. The mirror’s name came from a grandiose anonymous ancient saying: “I observe the Ying Sea, vast and boundless; the nine continents sit at the center, like a snake coiled around a mirror.”
It was said that the Qi refiner’s “Viewing the Sea” stage also derived from this.
Though the girl’s mirror was low in rank, merely a spirit artifact, combined with Yangzhi, if you went by mountain rules, it could be considered a kind of Dao affinity.
Yangzhi looked at the river goddess—who indeed wasn’t annoying—and smiled. “I hadn’t thought of that before. Since you bring it up today, I’ll go by mood from now on.”
Chen Ping’an asked, “Are you two done talking?”
Qingtong nodded. “If I have a chance to come to Central Continent in the future, I’ll come find you, Daoist Yangzhi.”
Yangzhi smiled. “Qingtong, do you have any miscellaneous books on you? Give me a few.”
Besides priceless secret manuals and Dao formulas, and some precious rare books from the old Yeluo River collection, she only had a few miscellaneous books, which she had read over and over countless times through the years. To ask the Literary Academy for something so trivial—she really couldn’t bring herself to do it. And even if she had the face, if the Academy gave her a pile of Confucian classics, that would be asking for trouble.
Qingtong nodded with a smile. “Trivial. What type of books do you like? Confucian, Buddhist, Daoist classics? Unofficial histories? Strange tales? Scholar-beauty romances? Martial arts epics?”
Yangzhi wasn’t polite with Qingtong. “A few of each kind would be fine.”
Qingtong looked at Chen Ping’an.
Chen Ping’an guessed her thoughts and smiled. “If you two can pull off any shady deals right under Li Sheng’s nose, that’s a skill in itself. I’m not going to stop you.”
So Qingtong relaxed and discreetly cast a spell, sending Yangzhi several hundred books.
Yangzhi thanked her.
Then Yangzhi hesitated, stared straight at Chen Ping’an, and said, “That deal I proposed earlier—you really have no interest?”
Chen Ping’an smiled. “It’s not completely non-negotiable. But you’ll need to prepay two deposits. If you agree, I’ll come drink here again when I travel Central Continent in the future. I’ll give you a definite answer then.”
Yangzhi said, “Deposits? Tell me.”
Chen Ping’an said, “That dharma robe of yours—use a spell to give me a low-quality replica. You can strip out three or four of the most critical Daoist patterns beforehand.”
Yangzhi asked, “And the second thing?”
Chen Ping’an smiled. “Return the waters of Nantang Lake.”
Yangzhi was puzzled. “The second deposit is just that?”
Chen Ping’an said, “Lord Mei really ought to hear this—now that’s what I call having substantial wealth.”
Yangzhi said, “The ink-colored dragon robe I wear is called ‘Running Water,’ also known as ‘Fire Forging.’”
“The robe has two unusual properties. It can ensure that seven or eight dragon-subspecies water immortal descendants will succeed in their ‘running water’—after all, those water paths are all under my control, no different from great rivers running water. For example, that qingqiu that was caught and taken to the Sword Qi Great Wall prison—it went from Nascent Soul to Jade Purity by taking this shortcut. Moreover, the original meaning of ‘Running Water’ is something you literati know best.”
“I can agree to both things.”
Seeing that Chen Ping’an, after proposing conditions and her quick agreement, had started hesitating again, Yangzhi laughed in exasperation. Truly a man from the Summer Retreat Palace.
Yangzhi asked, “One thing I’m curious about. After you fought Lizhen back then, what gave you the guts to provoke us on the battlefield?”
If he was a fearless hothead, it might be possible he wasn’t afraid at all. But the problem was, when it came to deep scheming, this fellow wasn’t lacking.
Chen Ping’an said, “You can think of it as a kind of fist greeting.”
Qingtong explained, “It was a rare opportunity—to use another’s stone to polish one’s own jade, to hone the fearless heart of a martial artist.”
Yangzhi, though not a pure martial artist, understood the shared principles of cultivation. Once Qingtong explained, she got it.
Chen Ping’an stood up, adjusted his bamboo hat, and smiled. “Next time, I’ll settle the whole bill together.”
“Best if you don’t come again.”
Yangzhi waved her fan and lifted her chin toward the white bowl on the table in front of Chen Ping’an.
Chen Ping’an looked down. The white bowl now had a layer of “wine,” and on the “surface” of the wine seemed to float a dark leaf.
He put the bowl into his sleeve, clasped his hands to the old mountain god and the river goddess, then led Qingtong out of the tavern, gradually walking away.
Gong Xinzhou waved goodbye, then continued flipping through the seal manual that Lord Mei had dismissed as worthless. It didn’t seem that bad. But suddenly his shoulder tilted—the manual fell onto the table. When he tried to pick it up, he couldn’t lift the light little book; it felt as heavy as ten thousand jun. The old mountain god gave a low shout, circulated his divine powers, and barely managed to lift the manual. He turned to look at the wine woman, testing, “Was that your doing?”
Yangzhi pointed her fan in the direction of the two who had left, saying lazily, “It was that surnamed Chen outsider. Consider it a gift for visiting your mountain. Keep it well. Be careful not to leak the news, or Lord Mei might snatch it.”
The old mountain god’s heart stirred. He quickly opened the book. On the last page of the manual, there was now a fresh seal imprint that definitely hadn’t been there before.
“The mountain need not be high; with a god, it is luminous.”
The young river goddess craned her neck to look, not taking it seriously. But she noticed the tavern owner suddenly stand up, as if a truly honored guest had arrived. Following the wine woman’s gaze, she saw a middle-aged Confucian scholar full of bookish air. He looked somewhat familiar. Beside the scholar was a shabby old scholar, who was unfamiliar. The two were walking this way. Then the Chaoqiu river goddess blinked, and the shabby old man seemed to shrink the distance in a single step, arriving at the table. He slapped the old mountain god’s shoulder and laughed loudly, “Brother Mountain God, aren’t the seal writings in the book handsome?!”
Yangzhi was filled with curiosity and asked via heart voice, “Li Sheng, why are you here?”
Li Sheng smiled. “Couldn’t bear someone’s uncharacteristic behavior—for the first time, not rolling around and making a scene, just drinking alone in silence. Even Xiping was scared of him, so they had to notify me, to put that someone a bit at ease.”
Each generation has those whom later generations cannot hope to surpass.
Bai Ye, the proudest of the world, Yu Xuan, consummate master of talismans. Su Zi’s boldness, Liu Qi’s elegance.
The previous Celestial Master of Dragon Tiger Mountain, Wei She of Aiai Continent, Fire Dragon True Person of Spider Peak, swordsman Pei Min, the Dragon Slayer, Zhou Shenzhi of Central Continent, Huai Yin…
Zheng Juzhong of White Emperor City, Tie Shuashan Guo Outing. Pei Bei, Cao Ci…
But even the proudest like Bai Ye, the arrogant like the Dragon Slayer, the inscrutable like Zheng Juzhong, before the Little Master in the form of a middle-aged Confucian, would all sincerely bow as juniors.
The Chaoqiu river goddess asked cautiously, “Lord Li Sheng?”
Li Sheng nodded with a smile.
The old scholar straightened his collar, coughed once, then coughed several more times. The girl was puzzled—why, who are you? Even if you’re an official from the Literary Academy, I don’t know you. How am I supposed to flatter you?
The old scholar had to introduce himself. “I am that blue-shirted sword cultivator’s teacher.”