Chapter 930: Borrowing a Thousand Mountains and Ten Thousand Rivers from You All (11)
Sacred Rite had a bowl of wine at the shop and asked, "What do you say?"
The old scholar grinned so wide his entire wrinkled face folded together. "A rare opportunity. Allow me to snatch a moment of leisure from my busy schedule and drink a little more. Even an emperor doesn't starve his soldiers, right?"
These days, the Wen Temple and the Merit Forest were both being managed by the old scholar. To say he was "snatching a moment of leisure from a busy schedule" wasn't an overstatement.
Sacred Rite hesitated for a moment, then still reminded him, "Remember not to go too far. If the Wen Temple can't do anything about you, I'll go find Chen Ping'an."
There were very few people who warranted such an additional "reminder" from Sacred Rite.
After all, with them, Sacred Rite's principles could always be reasoned through.
The old scholar grumbled, "That's a superfluous thing to say."
There were outsiders present. Give me at least a little face.
Sacred Rite said, "Then I'll trouble Literary Sage to give me a definite answer. I don't want the next time Wen Temple holds a meeting, Chen Ping'an's first voluntary plea for leniency to the Wen Temple to be about cleaning up his teacher's mess."
Jing Sheng had called him over precisely because he was worried that if the old scholar got impulsive, no one would be able to hold him back.
The old scholar said seriously, "Do you think I wouldn't understand such a principle? There's only the principle of a teacher cleaning up a student's mess, not the other way around."
Sacred Rite said, "Just drink your wine properly."
The old scholar patted his chest in assurance. "Good wine, of course, deserves to be drunk properly!"
As soon as Sacred Rite left, the old scholar crossed his legs, rolled up his sleeves, and prepared to drink heartily.
A young man just over forty years old could sit at a wine table with an ancient Wild Clan former Throne great demon, tens of thousands of years old, discussing business and raking up old scores.
The green-robed, bamboo-hatted guest was at ease, chatting and laughing freely.
No matter what he said, Yang Zhi had to listen carefully, ponder it deeply, and ponder it repeatedly, hoping to extract some lingering flavor from his words.
For the old scholar, having such a dish to accompany his wine made any wine table in the world a place for good wine.
The old scholar picked up his wine bowl, took a sip, and immediately squinted his eyes, hunched his shoulders, shivered, and broke into a delighted smile.
Was drinking really that enjoyable? Drinking alone wasn't much fun. It was the people at the table and the things away from the table that made the wine good.
Seeing that young girl, the River Goddess of Chaoqiu, open her mouth several times as if to speak before stopping, the old scholar asked with a smile, "Is there something you want to ask? Feel free to ask. At the wine table, there are no distinctions of status."
The old Mountain God started signaling with his eyes again, reminding Ganzhou not to speak nonsense.
Ganzhou had never been one to keep things bottled up. "Literary Sage Lord, how come you don't look anything like the portrait in the Wen Temple?"
Earlier, she had heard that the Literary Sage had been restored to his position in the Wen Temple, and she had once sneaked out to visit a county.
She had, of course, gone to the Wen Temple. The Literary Sage on the portrait was a gaunt-looking old man, with an awe-inspiring appearance. He bore no resemblance whatsoever to this short, scrawny old man in front of her.
The old scholar laughed heartily. "That's Blame old Wu's poor painting skills."
The young girl leaned on the table, curious. "Then why did Embroidery Tiger Cui Chan, who was doing so well, betray the Literary Sage lineage back then?"
The old Mountain God had already begun to focus his gaze inward, ignoring everything around him.
Even Yang Zhi had to cough softly, reminding the young girl not to be too bold.
The old scholar, however, didn't seem angry at all. He looked out at the desolate scene beyond the tavern, nothing but mountains upon mountains, high and low, layered one upon another. He was silent for a moment, then smiled and said slowly, "When a student's heart is broken by his teacher, a clever man cannot lie to himself, yet he is unwilling to exchange harsh words with his teacher. So, he has no choice but to leave silently without a word."
What is regret? Something that cannot be obtained again. Someone who cannot be encountered again. That is regret.
The old scholar stroked his beard in silence, sighed, picked up his wine bowl, took a large gulp, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "Our words can create vast distances of a thousand mountains and ten thousand rivers, with illusions and obstacles everywhere. They can also pave roads and build bridges, leading to the hidden path and the blooming flowers. Therefore, when living day and night with those close to you, do not speak angry words, do not speak ironic words, and do not refuse to speak."
Gong Xinzhou exclaimed in sincere admiration, "The Literary Sage's words are truly an unshakable ultimate truth."
The old scholar laughed. "That's the insight of my last closed-door disciple. I'm just borrowing it."
Gong Xinzhou quickly changed his tune. "No wonder Hidden Official Chen was able to become the Literary Sage Lord's last closed-door disciple."
The old scholar hastily waved his hand. "I had a hard time tricking Chen Ping'an into being my last closed-door disciple. You see, he's very picky about his teachers."
The old Mountain God thought that was a wonderfully said line. Deservedly the Literary Sage Lord who had never lost a debate among the three teachings.
Ganzhou asked again, "They say the emperor loves his youngest son. Is the Literary Sage Lord the same?"
Because the young River Goddess remembered that outsider from before. No matter how you looked at him, he didn't seem like a scholar. He seemed more like a wanderer in the martial world, a master who was used to preying on the strong.
With just a flick of his wrist and a single sentence, he had awed Mei Fujun into silence.
The old scholar smiled slightly. "I don't have many students or disciples. I'm not particularly partial to anyone; I just have different affections for each."
His own students, a few formal disciples, plus Mao Xiaodong and the others—their learning was, of course, all excellent. There was no need to say more.
Earlier, for matters of sword dueling, there was Zuo the Stiff. For fist boxing, there was Jun Qian. Later, for laying out the game, there was Cui Chan. For breaking the game, there was Qi Jingchun.
Then, as for Chen Ping'an, the last closed-door disciple Qi Jingchun had accepted on behalf of the teacher, he could be said to be a master of all the strengths of his senior brothers. Of course, there might still be some gap now, but the future was very much worth anticipating.
Speaking of the present, who, upon seeing Chen Ping'an, would ever question, "So you are so-and-so's junior brother?" Or question, "So you are the old scholar's last closed-door disciple?"
When a teacher's students are so good, so outstanding, besides feeling gratified, he also feels a little ashamed.
Ganzhou felt the Literary Sage Lord was just saying something polite, just putting on a show for her. It wasn't very satisfying, so the young girl drank a bowl of wine in sullen silence.
The old scholar stroked his beard and smiled, looking out at the desolate scene beyond the shop. The same scene, two different moods, presented two different aspects. This was probably what the human heart and cultivation were about. No matter how divine and powerful those ancient gods were, they would never have such thoughts or feelings. A heart of iron and stone, lacking self-mastery—how sad that would be.
In the nine provinces of the Haoran world, they treated the dead as if they were alive, hence the prevalence of burial customs. And that vast starry sky above all beings was probably a watery graveyard.
The old scholar quickly reined in these thoughts and laughed. "Brother Gong, could I borrow that Two Hundred Swordsman Seal Collection to take a look?"
Gong Xinzhou hurriedly pulled the seal collection from his sleeve and handed it to the Literary Sage, flustered. "I don't deserve it, I don't deserve the title of 'Brother.'"
The old scholar teased, "What's there not to deserve? I'm often called 'old' myself."
Gong Xinzhou nodded frantically, his face already flushed red, speaking incoherently. "This minor god shares in the honor, shares in the honor."
The old scholar drank his wine while flipping through the pages. He quickly reached the last page, saw Chen Ping'an's seal stamp, smiled knowingly, and returned the seal collection to Gong Xinzhou. "Keep it well. If, one day, Brother Gong gets promoted and can build a mansion on the mountain like Mei He, you can, as per the rules, ask your local academy for an item. In my opinion, those sage books from the Wen Temple are ultimately just dead objects. Why go far and wide for them, Brother Gong..."
Gong Xinzhou said solemnly, "This minor god must enshrine it properly as a treasure to protect the mountain."
The old scholar pondered for a moment, drank two bowls of wine, his thoughts gushing forth like a spring, unable to hold back. He looked towards the Mountain God shrine on Gong Xinzhou's mountain and slowly chanted two lines.
Whose fine mountain is this, I wish to be its neighbor, mountain air lingers with the setting sun, birds return in flocks. A myriad of wondrous peaks is the most magnificent sight, I invite you to share the scenery.
A thousand cliffs stand upright, peaks hold up the sun and moon, so beautiful they break through the blue sky. raising a hand to touch the sun and moon. Propping up heaven and earth for all to see, opening the celestial pass for me.
Inside the shrine, the painted clay statue of the Mountain God suddenly shone with golden light. Gong Xinzhou at the tavern immediately stood up, bowed to the Literary Sage, as if receiving a divine decree.
This was the power of a Merit Sage of the Wen Temple; his words embodied the heavenly laws.
If it were on the three continents where the old scholar had combined his Dao, a single word could raise the divine position of a mountain or river spirit, instantly elevating its rank on the Golden Jade Register.
The old scholar quickly raised his hand and pressed it down twice. "Don't be polite. It's a small matter. I didn't raise the height of Brother Gong's divine statue. I just spoke a few nice words. A small favor that cost me nothing."
After all, this was the Central Earth Continent, where the Secondary Sage had combined his Dao. The old scholar should not overstep his bounds.
The old scholar glanced at the Chaoqiu River Goddess. He only felt happy for the old Mountain God, with no envy or jealousy. The old scholar nodded inwardly, then cast a sidelong glance at Yang Zhi.
Yang Zhi immediately understood his intention. Speaking with her heart voice, she said, "I am willing to accept Ganzhou as an unregistered disciple and teach her a few water methods."
The old scholar laughed. "Here in the ruins of the Patriarch's Alchemy Furnace, there happens to be a River Goddess carrying a Serpent-Coiled Mirror, and she gets to spend day and night with you, Yang Zhi. If this isn't a karmic connection with the Dao, what is? When Chen Ping'an reminded you of this earlier, you probably thought he was forcing an issue and didn't take it seriously. Haven't you heard the saying 'Matters have roots and branches, events have beginnings and ends'? Haven't you considered why Sacred Rite has imprisoned you here but hasn't overly restricted your freedom? What's the reason?"
The old scholar drew a circle on the table as he spoke. "The alternation of yin and yang is like a circle, the cycle of human affairs is like a coiled serpent. In the past few years, you've only known how to blame heaven and others, your Dao heart dimmed. Yet you don't realize that Sacred Rite was giving you a considerable amount of goodwill. He hoped you could forge a new path here, find a different way, not in techniques but in the Dao heart, walking a broader road. That is the true key to the fourteenth realm—no longer relying on seizing external objects as a way to break through the realm. Have you never carefully considered this: why is it that you Wild Clan Throne great demons, compared to the mountain peak cultivators of the other three worlds, have such long lifespans by nature, making it so easy to enter the Flying Ascension Realm, yet so incredibly difficult to break into the Fourteen Realm? Where is the crux of the problem?"
The old scholar laughed. "Firstly, you must repay your debts. Secondly, although you have cultivated human forms, you do not truly resemble humans. Liu Cha did better in this regard than you. You all think it's because he's a sword cultivator, inherently gifted, but that's not the case. It's simply because Liu Cha's Dao heart has long been no different from that of humans."
Yang Zhi let out a faint sigh, stood up, and performed a curtsey to the old scholar. She was genuinely grateful for his guidance. "Thank you, Literary Sage, for the enlightenment."
In truth, this former Throne was also relieved, finally no longer worrying about being "refined" by someone one day within this Alchemy Furnace ruin.
The old scholar shook his head. "I've only pointed out a direction for your path. Your cultivation from now on will still not be easy. For the sake of the wine, let me say one more thing to you: the effort lies solely in the two words: 'going against' your nature, and 'enduring' in your Dao heart."
Yang Zhi felt as if she had swallowed a huge calming pill.
If the old scholar was so amiable with her, it probably meant she now had an extra protective charm from the Wen Temple in the future, didn't it?
All these years, selling wine here had felt like being in the middle of a drought, waiting every day for it to rain. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.
This was also one of the reasons Yang Zhi was willing to do business with Chen Ping'an. Getting involved with this young Hidden Official meant forging a connection with the Literary Sage lineage.
And the Literary Sage lineage's protectiveness was well known across all worlds. Especially the old scholar's doting on his last closed-door disciple—it reached an utterly lawless level.
Moreover, since Chen Ping'an was the old scholar's last closed-door disciple, he was also the shared junior brother of those few "monsters."
Because Yang Zhi understood very well that regarding her current situation, there was dissent among the accompanying sage spirits at the Wen Temple, and even among the three headmasters, both deputy and chief. If not for Sacred Rite's intervention—thinking only of that deputy headmaster who, together with Liu Qi, had subdued her at sea—he would have surely killed her outright back then.
Unexpectedly, the old scholar added with a beaming smile, "Still the same old saying: doing good has merit, committing wrongs has fault. Good and bad, you must repay your debts. Don't think that correcting your mistakes and making amends will be any easier than entering the Fourteenth Realm. I advise you to prepare yourself mentally early on, so you won't blame me later for leading you astray. As for me, when people scold me, I have the good temper to let the spit on my face dry by itself. But the one thing I cannot tolerate is on the Dao path, the good intentions and kind hearts of ordinary people being wantonly trampled into the mud by the powerful. If I see it, I will get angry. And if I get angry, you will have to bear the consequences. Don't think that even Sacred Rite or the Supreme Saint himself pleading for you would do any good."
Anyway, Sacred Rite wasn't around, and the old man was nowhere to be found. What's wrong with me saying a few drunken words after drinking a bit too much?
When Yang Zhi heard this blatantly threatening speech, she wasn't angry at all, nor did she dare to be. Regardless, the Literary Sage was still a fourteenth realm grand cultivator who had had his Wen Temple lineage restored.
She took the initiative to stand up and refill the old scholar's wine bowl. The old scholar thanked her, then laughed. "While hawking wine and browsing miscellaneous books, you should still read more serious texts. Don't let a carrying pole fall down without even knowing it's the character 'one.'"
What else could Yang Zhi do but nod in agreement.
Qing Tong had indeed left her a large pile of miscellaneous books to pass the time.
The Chaoqiu River Goddess was momentarily stunned. Could the Literary Sage Lord be making an insinuation? Pointing at me?
She had found reading a chore ever since she was a child; it was just her nature. Literary Sage Lord, if you blame me, who do I blame?
Gong Xinzhou noticed Ganzhou's expression and, worried she might misunderstand the Literary Sage Lord, immediately chimed in to agree. "A virtuous maiden is a gentleman's good match. A kind heart is 'virtue,' a beautiful face is 'maidenly.' Therefore, reading is more than enough to add luster to a beauty. Of course, one must read the books of sages. This is called: 'A nature like white jade, still cold when burned; words like crimson strings, the deeper they are plucked, the more they resonate.' So the Literary Sage Lord, in his 'Discourse on Rites,' had the phrase 'The songs of the Qing Temple, sung once with three sighs of emotion,' which is a wake-up call, a profoundly enlightening word, echoing Sacred Rite Lord's 'The zithers and se of the Qing Temple, with vermilion strings and wide-spaced holes.' The so-called matching of poems and songs among literati nowadays cannot compare; they are far, far behind."
Yang Zhi listened and frowned. The old saying goes, "A single conversation with a wise man is worth more than ten years of reading." But listening to this Gong Mountain God throw around bookish quotations, so sour and pretentious, made it feel like listening to him talk for a while, and you'd have wasted ten years of reading.
The old scholar then changed his approach and said with a smile, "If you wish to leap beyond the Three Realms and escape the Five Elements, just read. If you wish to ascend another level, with no more Three Realms or Five Elements in your eyes, it only happens when you've finished reading and there is no longer any obstacle of words."
The girl was bewildered. The old Mountain God was thinking about how to flatter him appropriately. Only Yang Zhi's expression turned solemn.
The old scholar planned to return to the Wen Temple after drinking three bowls of wine at the tavern, so he drank his last bowl slowly.
Partings in the world are bitter and hasty. Meeting once, each time we grow older.
History is like a brazier filled with a pile of still-warm ashes.
All the ashes are the departed who have been completely forgotten, while the sparks are the traces left behind in heaven and earth by the departed who are still remembered.
For example, the inscriptions at Sword Qi Great Wall, the world-changing works of the sages, the poetry of Bai Ye and Su Zi, the portraits in the ancestral halls of various mountains, the cliff carvings and stone tablets between famous mountains and great rivers, the names on tombstones visited by descendants year after year... after a hundred or a thousand years, it's all the stories of the ancients still spoken and cherished in the mouths and hearts of later generations.
Yang Zhi blurted out, "The Literary Sage took in a good student."
"Such nonsense..."
The old scholar paused for a moment, then downed the wine in his bowl in one gulp. "Even if I heard it
Ten thousand times, I wouldn't get tired of it."
Worldly affairs cannot last forever, the full hall of honored guests disperses like water.
Now, there is a guest at the table wielding a thunderclap, able to move mountains and rivers with ease.
Old feelings can still be pursued, mountain winds surge and come galloping.
What is this compared to riding a sword in azure robes among the white clouds, looking down on the Five Sacred Peaks like mere anthills?
---
In the central part of Tongye Continent, inside the Demon-Suppressing Tower, beneath the parasol tree.
Chen Ping'an sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, deep in concentration, as if in a state of mental fasting, his spirit roaming thousands of miles in a dream.
Qing Tong's true form and Yin spirit had both followed the young Hidden Official into the dream, traveling throughout the world. Only the burly old man, his Yang spirit and external incarnation, remained in place, anxious.
Because Xiao Mo had once again assumed a peak posture, condensing an ethereal dharma image to about ten feet in height. He was in white robes with white hair, barefoot and holding a sword, staring fixedly at Qing Tong's Yang spirit, occasionally glancing sideways at the towering ancient tree.
It was clearly a matter of not trusting Qing Tong. At the slightest sign of abnormality, this peak sword cultivator would strike down the parasol tree.
The burly old man said irritably, "We're allies now. Is it really necessary to guard against me like a thief?"
Xiao Mo held his sword horizontally in front of him, running two fingers along the pure sword light, and asked with a smile, "Where is the swordsman Pei Min now?"
Qing Tong shook his head. "After that rain-soaked sword duel, Pei Min vanished without a trace."
For some reason, Xiao Mo felt a strangeness within the empty Demon-Suppressing Tower.
But he had been distracted several times, scanning every corner of that vast building, yet he could never find any trace of the Dao.
Xiao Mo asked, "Those twelve painting scrolls you carefully set up earlier, were they all arranged by Master Zou in advance, and you just copied them?"
Qing Tong remained silent.
Xiao Mo asked again, "How will Master Zou collect these twelve 'answer sheets'?"
Qing Tong still said nothing.
Xiao Mo's gaze turned cold. "I'm asking you a question. Don't play deaf and dumb. Do I have to duel swords with you to get an answer?"
Qing Tong dared not stay silent any longer. He looked helpless and said, "How would I know what Master Zou is thinking, or how he will act in the future? He's Master Zou! Master Zou isn't some ordinary Fourteenth Realm cultivator!"
Qing Tong's assessment of Master Zou was almost on par with praising him as heaven itself.
There were only a handful of Fourteenth Realm cultivators in the world anyway. What was "ordinary" supposed to mean? It's just that this Master Zou, who single-handedly occupied half the Yin-Yang School, was simply too strange.
Qing Tong then muttered under his breath, "Maybe even our mentioning Master Zou's name right now is a kind of resonance with heaven and earth, already falling into his ears, completely ignoring all barriers between realms."
The matter of taboo naming, in certain mortal dynasties, required not only avoiding the names of emperors and monarchs in books but also avoiding the names of family elders. In the mountains, only a handful of peak grand cultivators received such treatment. If a qi practitioner carelessly called out their name, the effect might be immediate. The higher the realm of the uninhibited qi practitioner, like a 'louder voice,' the higher the possibility of the other party sensing it.
Just then, Chen Ping'an, whose mind had been completely immersed in the dream, still without opening his eyes, only said with a slight smile, "I intentionally made it easy for Master Zou to collect the answer sheets from the very start. Xiao Mo, do you remember what Taoist friend Qing Tong said when we first arrived here?"
Xiao Mo suddenly understood.
Before setting up the painting scroll illusions, Qing Tong had first asked Chen Ping'an, "Have you ever heard a prophecy from Master Zou?"
From that moment on, it was probably as if heaven and earth had been laid open.
It was like an imperial examination. Qing Tong was just the examiner grading the papers. The true question-setter and the chief examiner presiding over the exam were both Master Zou.
The examination question was that prophecy from Master Zou.
Therefore, looking back at Chen Ping'an's opening statement, he had also already written his answer on the surface of the painting scroll.
It was precisely borrowing Zheng Juzhong's words: "Just don't take it seriously."
This meant that whether you took it seriously or not, whether you believed it or not, was up to you, Master Zou.
Afterwards, within the twelve realms, Chen Ping'an's various words and actions, the fluctuations of his Dao heart, whether they truly came from Chen Ping'an's true heart or not—was both real and false—it was like Chen Ping'an's own counter-question to Master Zou.
Since his own master was already aware and had a way to deal with it, Xiao Mo wouldn't trouble himself by worrying over nothing.
Furthermore, Qing Tong's voluntary mention of " " could, barely, be considered a belated act of divulging a heavenly secret.
Xiao Mo just looked at Qing Tong with a gaze reserved for an idiot.
Qing Tong was speechless for a moment. Fine, I'm an idiot.
But you, Xiao Mo, are you any better than me?
Xiao Mo smiled.
Unfortunately for you, I am a sword cultivator.
Thinking and solving puzzles are not my forte. But when it comes to challenging someone to a sword duel or striking someone down, you can always count me in.
Meanwhile, in a corridor on the top floor of a pavilion within the Demon-Suppressing Tower.
The Supreme Saint and the Pure Yang Daoist stood by the railing. However, they were observing future events from the perspective and insight of those from the past. Naturally, Xiao Mo of the present could not detect them.
The middle-aged Daoist, called Patriarch Lu by Chen Ping'an, carried a whisk and a sword on his back. Seeing this, he praised, "This fellow daoist Xi Zhu has very keen spiritual awareness indeed."
The Supreme Saint nodded. "These Flying Ascension Realm peak sword cultivators, not a single one of them is easy to deal with."
When Pure Yang True Man heard Chen Ping'an's words, he was quite surprised for a moment and couldn't help but sigh, "It's like a commoner wandering among high mountains and ridges in rainy and snowy weather. One misstep, and they will fall into the deep ravines, their bones shattered. Engaging in such a battle of wits with Master Zou is extremely dangerous."
The Supreme Saint smiled slightly. "This is what Kou Ming meant when he said, 'What they are at peace with is nature, what they embody is self-understanding.' It can also be seen as the old scholar's saying, 'Those who know themselves do not blame others; those who know their fate do not blame heaven.' To put it even more bluntly, it's nothing more than hanging clothes to dry when the sun is high, and taking in the clothes when it rains. But if someone... forgets, then he forgets."
Pure Yang True Man wanted to elaborate on these few words, using the opportunity to consult the Supreme Saint more about the roots of the Three Teachings' doctrines.
However, the Supreme Saint seemed unwilling to discuss this further and had already changed the subject, asking with a smile, "You have been traveling in the Qingming World for a long time. Did you never sneak into the Jade Emperor City to listen to Kou Ming preach?"
Between the hazy sights, one could vaguely see an earlier time: a Daoist drinking alone under the parasol tree, the sun slanting, the wind cold, his old friends not coming, standing until the parasol tree's shadow had faded.
This middle-aged True Man of the Dao perfectly embodied the divine charm of 'a tree standing tall in the wind attracts the wind' and 'trees may prefer calm but the wind will not cease.'
Pure Yang Daoist laughed. "I attended three of his lectures as a bystander, but each time I was accompanied by Headmaster Lu."
The Supreme Saint said, "Because Lu Chen had already foreseen future events back then, or was worried that you would return to the Haoran World one day, taking away too much of the Qingming World's and the Jade Capital's Dao Qi."
Pure Yang Daoist said, "If Lu Chen had never left his hometown, he could have contributed at least one and a half Dragon Tiger Mountains to the Haoran World."
The Supreme Saint smiled slightly. "Gaining it is my fortune; losing it is my fate. Flowers blooming outside the wall are still flowers blooming."
Pure Yang Daoist sighed in admiration. "Lu Chen's Dao heart is difficult to fathom, but he holds his senior brother in high regard."
According to what Lu Chen said back then, his master was one with the natural Dao, almost approaching Oneness. The higher his Dao expertise, the greater his fighting prowess.
And Lu Chen's admiration for his senior brother—who had accepted him on behalf of the master—was also immense. He never hid the fact that the reason he left Haoran for the Qingming World back then was precisely to seek Dao discussions with the Grand Headmaster of the Jade Capital. Even before meeting Kou Ming, Lu Chen never lacked praise for him. "Suspected to be soaring into the void, not a prisoner of heaven and earth... True persons are mysteriously one with all existence; we generations cannot see their traces... One man rides the wind alone, relying on nothing, carrying the Great Dao on his shoulders, roaming the Great Void..."
Lu Chen even boasted constantly about writing a biography for his senior brother.
It was probably in Lu Chen's eyes that his senior brother, Kou Ming, was the sole embodiment of a "True Person."
Therefore, after Lu Chen became the Third Headmaster, he always addressed his two seniors in the Jade Capital as "Senior Brother" when referring to Kou Ming, but called Yu Dou "Senior Brother Yu."
Additionally, regarding this senior brother, Lu Chen had some other fragmented and strange sayings that others still couldn't decipher. For example: "Heavenly root, one transforms into seven, seven transforms into nine, returns to one, the borrowed man..."
The first time Pure Yang Daoist visited the Jade Capital, Lu Chen had only recently become the youngest disciple of the Dao Ancestor.
At that time, Lu Chen was still relatively "young and arrogant." He told Pure Yang True Man that the world's Dao techniques originated with the Dao Ancestor, had their incense continued by Kou Ming, would flourish under me, Lu Chen, and in the future, would be grandly returned to the world.
Lu Chen always liked to play games in the mortal world, speaking commoners' language to commoners, and speaking the high words of those that 'startle the immortals above' to the lofty.
By the time Pure Yang Daoist visited the Jade Capital a second time, Lu Chen had already successfully entered the Fourteenth Realm, possessing the unprecedented and unrepeatable "Five Dreams and Seven Heart-Phenomena."
In fact, the fellow Daoist who accompanied Pure Yang True Man during their travels in Jade Emperor City was one of Lu Chen's incarnations, the White Bone True Man.
Pure Yang Daoist speculated that one of Lu Chen's Great Dao paths, such as the Seven Heart-Phenomena outside the Five Dreams, most likely originated and was proven from the Grand Headmaster Kou Ming's saying, "The One is the beginning of transformation and form; the One transforms into seven."
This kind of thing, while not common in the mountains, did have some precedents. It was like an ancestor proposing a certain hypothesis suspended in the air—absurd, a castle in the sky—only for someone later to actually make it a reality.
The Supreme Saint lightly tapped the railing and said slowly, "If Kou Ming had been born a few years earlier, I dare not say that a spot among the Ten Great Masters of the World would have been his for the taking, but among the candidates, he would certainly have had a place."
Regarding the origin of the Dao technique that first created the "Person Without a Realm," there were two theories in the present age. One traced it back to the Buddhist Kingdom in the West, its roots in the doctrine of "Non-Non." The other originated from the Grand Headmaster of the Jade Capital, Kou Ming's saying, "Moving above the myriad things, treading on emptiness as if on solid ground, sleeping in the void as if in bed."
Because of this saying, some accomplished Daoists with lofty aspirations in the Qingming World always felt that the Grand Headmaster of the Jade Capital's Dao technique "sometimes seemed to blend with Buddhist scriptures" and occasionally "shared similarities with Confucian methods."
But out of respect for the Grand Headmaster, they naturally wouldn't voice such seemingly blasphemous thoughts publicly. They only mentioned them in passing during idle chatter among close friends on the mountain peaks.
There was a well-known collection of strange tales in the Qingming World, authored anonymously, called "Records of Strange Matters." It said that in ancient times, there was a True Man of the Dao who often rode the cool wind on the day of Spring Beginning, traveling far across the world, and returned to the cave dwelling of the wind on the day of Autumn Beginning. When the wind arrived, the plants and trees of the human world sprouted and grew; when it left, the plants and trees of the world withered and fell.
This tall, ancient-looking old man turned his head and asked with a smile, "Do you think that if there were a similar ranking of the Ten Great Masters of the World in the future, how many of the twenty-two people—the Ten Young Ones and the Ten Candidates from the various worlds previously selected by Master Zou—would be able to make the list?"
Pure Yang Daoist pondered for a moment. "In this poor Daoist's view, at most two-tenths could make the grade. And before that, there will be a fierce struggle for opportunities and fates. Without a thousand years of time, it will probably be very difficult to reach a final conclusion. Except for Ning Yao of the Five Colors World and Fei Ran of the Wild Clan's Lord, because their positions are already legitimate, none of the others can be sure of victory."
His implication was that perhaps only four or five young individuals could successfully join the ranks of the fifteen or sixteen people at the "very summit."
Pure Yang Daoist's words actually carried a deeper meaning: that among the current Fourteenth Realm cultivators of the various worlds, some would inevitably be left out.
This was compounded by the fact that some Flying Ascension Realm cultivators at perfection would take a step up to the next level, each combining their Dao, thus also squeezing out a few spots.
The Supreme Saint teased, "How could True Man Lu Yan of Pure Yang not count as one?"
Pure Yang Daoist, however, shook his head. "This poor Daoist is an idle, carefree person. I won't join in this commotion. I seek the Great Dao in a small place."
The Supreme Saint didn't seem surprised. He asked, "Is this because you feel the ultimate Dao cannot be attained through emotion, and you intend to cut your emotional ties with the Sword of Wisdom? Have you chosen your dojo?"
Pure Yang Daoist nodded. "I've chosen one, but I'm afraid that once I enter, I might not be able to leave, becoming trapped there for eternity, suffering endless calamities. So I might need the Supreme Saint to help me choose someone to offer slight protection, speaking a few 'irrelevant words' at the critical moment."
The Supreme Saint laughed. "How coincidental. It matches the old saying: 'As far as the eye can see, the answer is close at hand'?"
Lu Yan felt a bit helpless.
It wasn't that he was dissatisfied with the candidate the Supreme Saint chose. But once he chose this person, he would probably have to give something up. It wasn't that he begrudged this "something," but for a cultivator who had reached Lu Yan's level, viewing karmic connections, whether good or bad, was generally quite troublesome.
Lu Yan said, "Allow this poor Daoist to think it over further?"
The Supreme Saint said, "What kind of talk is that? It's not like I'm forcing you to agree. This is a matter that must be mutually agreeable between you two. Even if you agreed, I would still have to ask Chen Ping'an for his consent. If he doesn't agree, could I possibly force him?"
---
The rain was pouring down in torrents. Someone wearing a bamboo hat and a green straw raincoat walked along the riverbank. When encountering a mountain peak, a mere tip of his toes was enough, and his figure flickered like a wisp of green smoke, instantly reaching the summit.
This Qiantang River, anciently called the Zhe River, had both a southern and a northern source, with numerous tributaries. Chen Ping'an now stood at the entrance of the Qili Long. Cao Yong, the old Qiantang River Elder, now the Drowning Li Bo of Qi Prefecture, Treasure Vase Continent, had his dojo nearby, in an ancient broken secret realm called the Fengshui Cave. It was rumored to be rich in dragon qi, a burial ground for many ancient Shu kingdom flood dragons. However, the dojo was now protected by several interlocking camouflage techniques. An ordinary Earth Immortal, even if proficient in geomancy and holding a map, would only end up wandering in circles, unable to find the entrance.
Chen Ping'an deliberately restrained his qi, suppressing his fist intent, letting the rain beat down on him. He adjusted his bamboo hat and gazed into the distance at a bustling county town. The riverbank was lined with shops, and numerous guild halls had been built for fellow townsmen, water merchants, and itinerant traders to rest and conduct business. Moored along the shore, besides various merchant ships, were also a type of flower boat called a water chestnut boat. According to local county records, nine-surname fishermen lived on the water. They were of lowly status, prohibited from taking imperial examinations and from wearing shoes on land.
Even when they left their boats to go ashore, their clothing had to distinguish them from ordinary commoners. Just by looking at the umbrellas they carried, a boatman's identity would be instantly clear.
And the entrance to the old flood dragon's dojo, unlike general immortal caves built in secluded wilderness or deep underwater, had its "mountain gate" right near the county office, situated between the Temple of Subtle Wonder and the Zhaode Shrine in the northwest corner.
Qing Tong lifted the corner of her veil, glanced at it, and said softly, "It is said that this old Qiantang flood dragon has a violent temper and rules his subordinates harshly."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Every river in the world has its own nature, just like how humans are born with a certain innate nature from their mother's womb."
For example, the Red Candle Town, where three rivers converged, was a place where the Yuye River's nature was unpredictable, the Chongdan River's nature was fierce, and the Xiuhua River's nature was gentle. As for the nature of the Qiantang River's main current, one only had to look at the poems praising the tidal bore. Before Cao Yong had entered the Nascent Soul realm, his methods for governing the waters under his jurisdiction were extremely harsh. He often fought with the neighboring river gods formally enshrined by the imperial courts, killing hundreds of thousands of water creatures and damaging crops for hundreds of miles.
Sensing the unusual disturbance in heaven and earth, an old man in ceremonial robes strode out of the dojo in a fury. He stood outside the Temple of Subtle Wonder, tall and burly, with deep-set eyes, bold features, a thick beard and whiskers, and wore a robe inlaid with jade and threaded with gold.
This Drowning Li Bo, whose true form almost always stayed within the Fengshui Cave, squinted his golden eyes, placed his hands on his jade belt, and looked towards the touch of green on that mountain peak.
Activating his innate divine ability, he could see what ordinary qi practitioners could not. He saw the azure-robed guest on the mountain top, his face hazy and indistinct, accompanied by a woman in a hooded cloak.
Cao Yong spoke in a loud voice, "Fellow Daoist, since you're here, why hide your head and tail? Are you that ashamed to show your face?"
Before his words even settled, he had already activated his divine ability, condensing the falling rain into a water spell, forming a blue flood dragon a thousand feet long, which lunged straight at that pair of adulterous dogs on the mountain peak!
How dare they, on his own turf, flaunt this kind of... illusionary mirage spell in front of a great river duke and marquis, the equivalent of a Jade Pure Realm?
But in the next moment, Cao Yong's mood turned grave. He saw the azure-robed guest simply raise a hand and execute an immortal spell resembling a sleeve universe holding the sun and moon, directly taking the water dragon into his sleeve. Then, switching hands and flicking his sleeve, he poured it out from the left hand, as if dumping the entire river back into the rolling waters at the foot of the mountain.
Qing Tong felt a bit of schadenfreude. In this dream, Chen Ping'an was the lord of heaven. You, a Jade Pure Realm old flood dragon, had long lost the advantage of controlling your own small domain. How could you possibly compete with him?
Chen Ping'an took a step, shrinking the distance between mountains and rivers, arriving directly beside Cao Yong. He took off his bamboo hat, clasped his hands, and laughed. "Junior Chen Ping'an pays respects to Li Bo."
Junior?
After Cao Yong got a clear look at the other's face, he was quite surprised. Especially this self-deprecating form of address was even more unexpected.
They had never met, had no history of friendship between them. Why lower himself like this and use a form of address for a junior?
Cao Yong suppressed his doubts, returned the clasped hands salute, and said, "Great River Cao Yong, greets Hidden Official Chen."
Cao Yong stepped aside, extended his hand, and laughed. "Hidden Official, please."
A small door appeared in the cave dwelling, its lintel bearing the four golden characters "A Separate Paradise," along with a couplet.
Inside the cave, a cave reveals the cave within the cave. Beyond the heavens, a heaven completes the heaven beyond the heavens.
Qing Tong's gaze passed through the veil of her hooded cloak, scanning the couplet. She said softly, "Inside the cave, a cave reveals the cave within the cave. Beyond the heavens, a heaven completes the heaven beyond the heavens."
But Qing Tong quickly changed her phrasing. "Cave within a cave, a cave sees the cave within the cave? Heaven beyond heaven, heaven completes the heaven beyond heaven?"
Cao Yong asked with a smile, "May I ask this fellow Daoist, could it be Sword Immortal Ning?"
Chen Ping'an was momentarily speechless.
Inside the thin gauze of the hooded cloak, Qing Tong also rolled her eyes hard. What eyesight did this old flood dragon have?
No wonder he was still a half-hearted Jade Pure Realm after all this time.
Cao Yong knew he had misspoken, so he just pretended he hadn't said anything and led the two of them into the Fengshui Cave.
Inside the cave dwelling, the three walked through corridors. They saw white jade beams and pillars, azure jade steps, coral beds and crystal curtains,琉璃 door frames and amber bridges... all the treasures of the human world were gathered here.
The only fly in the ointment was that within this Fengshui Cave, although the spiritual energy was abundant and thick like water, it was completely empty, devoid of even talisman puppets. It felt utterly lifeless.
After learning the purpose of the young Hidden Official's visit, Cao Yong didn't rush to express his stance. He only asked, "Why did the Hidden Official come to me?"
Chen Ping'an said, "Our Luoshan Sect has a senior. Both my disciple, Pei Qian, and I learned most of our fist techniques from him. He is an old friend of Senior Cao's; they knew each other through a fight."
Cao Yong thought for a moment and then asked tentatively, "Is it Cui Cheng?"
It wasn't difficult to guess. Among the pure martial artists of the entire Treasure Vase Continent capable of teaching Chen Ping'an and Pei Qian, it was either Song Changjing of Great Li or the missing Cui Cheng. Plus, Chen Ping'an was from the Literary Sage lineage, and Cui Cheng's grandson, Embroidery Tiger Cui Chan, was once the chief disciple of the Literary Sage lineage. It was obviously much more likely than Song Changjing. Besides, Chen Ping'an had already said this person knew him through a fight, so it had to be Cui Cheng.
Sure enough, Chen Ping'an nodded with a smile.
In fact, as an old flood dragon of the Qiantang River, Cao Yong could have reached the Jade Pure Realm a hundred years ago. But right around that time, the Qiantang River's territory was hit by a once-in-a-millennium severe drought. Having no other recourse, Cao Yong had to reveal his true form, channel sea water, and let it flow backward into the Qiantang River, thereby bringing a life-giving rain. Such an act was essentially contrary to his own Great Dao. It was only because he no longer had a direct superior that the old flood dragon "merely" suffered the loss of three to five hundred years of Dao cultivation. If it had been three thousand or ten thousand years ago, Cao Yong would have directly gone to the Dragon-Slaying Platform to be skinned, have his sinews pulled out, and have his head cut off.
Before this incident, Cui Cheng hadn't held the hot-tempered Qiantang Elder in very high regard. Because of a certain disturbance, he had even gone to find Cao Yong and had a fierce fist duel with him.
After that incident, Cui Cheng's impression of Cao Yong changed. He visited again, not for a fistfight, but rather... for a drink, as it were.
However, when Cui Cheng was teaching fist techniques in the bamboo tower of the Luoshan Sect back then, he never mentioned any of his past to Chen Ping'an. It seemed he never did, not even once.
It was only when the old man came to Nuan Shu and Xiao Mili that he put aside all his airs. He was happy to chat with the two little girls, voluntarily telling them stories from his early days wandering the martial world.
According to Pei Qian, Sister Nuan Shu always listened attentively. As for Xiao Mili, she was a different story. Upon hearing a story she'd already heard once or twice, she would shake her head vigorously, showing no respect, and directly cut him off: "You've told that one, you've told that one! Give us a more exciting one, a more frightening landscape story to listen to..." Afterward, the old man never let Xiao Mili down. And of course, Xiao Mili's enthusiastic response was also quite something. She would gasp and exclaim endlessly, filling the air with exclamations.
Chen Ping'an introduced his companion as Qing Tong, from Tongye Continent.
Cao Yong had naturally never heard of this person, so he just assumed he was some reclusive master who didn't like to show his face.
Qing Tong's first words made Cao Yong regard him even more highly.
"Li Bo, it seems you have a rather deep karmic connection with the Pure Yang Daoist."
Cao Yong didn't think this was a secret that couldn't be shared. He nodded. "I was once fortunate enough to hear a Daoist True Man who called himself Pure Yang explain the 'Fire Sutra.' I used this to prove the Dao and achieve a small success, allowing me to enter the Nascent Soul Realm. Unfortunately, I was never able to repay the debt of kindness for the Pure Yang Daoist's teaching."
When that outland Daoist preached the Dao to Cao Yong in the Fengshui Cave, his Great Dao manifested, his words were like pearls, and a rain of fire descended.
After being tempered by this rain of fire, Cao Yong's subsequent river journey was extremely smooth, just like a successful candidate of the palace examination becoming a Jinshi official, and then turning around to take a prefectural or even a county examination—a trivial matter that came easily to him.
After learning about the relationship between the young Hidden Official and Cui Cheng, Cao Yong agreed without hesitation to the matter of the stick of incense.
Cao Yong suddenly asked, "More guests have arrived. On one boat, two groups of people, all old friends of my water mansion. Would Mountain Lord Chen mind meeting them together?"
Chen Ping'an laughed. "Whatever is convenient."
In fact, Chen Ping'an had detected their presence even before Cao Yong.
On a small boat on the river sat three qi practitioners from other continents and two local water gods from Treasure Vase Continent.
Seeing Chen Ping'an be so courteous and proper towards a water dragon, Qing Tong felt a little puzzled. In her own case, the Hidden Official hadn't been so deferential, acting like a guest following the host's arrangements.
Cao Yong naturally didn't know the inside story. He still took the lead in introducing the identities of the passengers on that boat.
The two water gods were both Lake Lords qualified to establish their own mansions. One administered Green Grass Lake, near the Qiantang River, close to Longyou County and Wushang County. The female water lord was named Zhu Xiang.
The other Lake Lord, named Wang Xiangjin, administered the Blue Conch Lake in Dangtu County.
The other three were not local cultivators from Treasure Vase Continent. Among them was Chen Zhenrong from the Chen clan of Pure Confucianism in South Babossa Continent, who was skilled in painting dragons.
The other two were from the Central Earth Continent. One was a female cultivator named Qin Buyi, and the other was a man who called himself the Wood Guest of Luoyang, a wandering merchant.
These three outland cultivators had actually been guests here before, but Chen Zhenrong had taken it upon himself to propose a trip to Longyou County. In ancient times, this was the land of Gu Mie, later established as the Tai Mo County. After several name changes, it was finally named Longyou.
The rain was pouring down, the sky was dark, the floating travelers sat solemnly, the returning boat sailed alone.
On the river, a small black-canopied boat rose and fell with the waves. White raindrops bounced like pearls, randomly entering the boat, giving the impression it could capsize at any moment.
There were five people on the boat drinking wine, chatting and laughing as if nothing was amiss. They were naturally all accomplished Daoists, immortals among men.
Their conversation topics also related to cultivation, but they held differing opinions. They were discussing which of the twelve realms below the Flying Ascension Realm was the most crucial.
Someone said it was the Retained Person Realm, the lowest of the five lower realms. Pioneered by Liu Qi, and later broadened by someone else, it allowed cultivators to ascend in a single step.
Another said it was the Cave Dwelling Realm, the first of the middle five realms. Their reasoning was that when it comes to cultivation, the hardest part is that there are hundreds or thousands of paths to take—side paths, crooked paths, many divergent paths. But the root of the matter is simply two things: opening a door and closing a door. Once the door is closed, one's body and Dao heart both dwell in hidden seclusion in the mountains. Once the door is opened, the immense world of red dust rolls in, and that is also cultivation. It shares the subtlety of the Mahayana and Hinayana of Buddhism.
Someone else said the most important realm should be the Sea-Viewing Realm. A cultivator starts climbing the mountain. In this realm, it's like standing in a pavilion overlooking the sea. The realm may not be high, but this is the layer with the greatest spirit and vision. Just take that half-sentence handed down by an anonymous person: "The nine continents are centered, like a serpent coiling around a mirror." What a vast perspective that is! All the subsequent realms, even the Jade Pure and Immortal realms of the upper five, high as they may be, still cannot compare to it.
Seeing that Chen Ping'an had no objection to this, Cao Yong led him and Taoist friend Qing Tong out of the cave dwelling and came to the riverbank to welcome the boat that was about to dock.
The violent wind and sudden rain turned day into night. The three of them didn't need to employ any camouflage techniques.
The five people on the boat saw the three on the shore. In an instant, a fragrant aura swirled. A woman with a graceful figure appeared, naturally parting the water. She needed no rain gear, floating to the shore. Looking at the man in the bamboo hat and straw raincoat, she seemed a bit shy. She raised a finger to smooth her hair at her temple, her eyes sparkling with light. She said softly, "The water mansion is deep and secluded, dwelling in a remote corner. This minor god is dim and dull, my hair disheveled and face weathered from the wind and rain—a truly miserable sight."
Qing Tong clicked her tongue in admiration inwardly.
Chen Ping'an lowered his head slightly, clasped his hands, and laughed. "Greetings, Zhu Xiang, Water Lord of Green Grass Lake."
Wang Xiangjin, the Lake Lord of Blue Conch Lake, was tall and slender, but his face was covered by a mask. After coming ashore, seeing the azure-robed guest, he acted like a scholar meeting another scholar, bowing with hands clasped. "Forgive my humble appearance, Mister Chen."
Wang Xiangjin had been a frail scholar in his life, without any official rank or fame. He was not a battlefield martyr. He belonged to the most typical type in strange tales: profound blessings and deep karma. Through a fortuitous encounter, he married into the Dragon Palace Water Mansion of old Blue Conch Lake as a son-in-law. Before the Dragon Lord passed away peacefully in his sleep, he abdicated the throne to Wang Xiangjin. Because Wang Xiangjin's appearance was gentle and refined, the Dragon Lord was worried he wouldn't be able to overawe the water monsters, so he gifted him a ghost face mask. When worn, it revealed a red face with fangs, as ferocious as a yaksha. It was a supreme water-element treasure, allowing the son-in-law to wear it by day and remove it by night. It aided his cultivation while intimidating the masses. After he succeeded to the position of Water Lord, his divine statue was depicted wearing the ghost face mask. The accompanying spirits in his shrine were similarly portrayed.
Chen Ping'an returned the bow. "I have long heard of the great name of the Water Lord of Blue Conch Lake."
The female cultivator from the Central Earth Continent, carrying a wooden spear on her back and a Poplar Blade at her waist, along with the expressionless wandering merchant, merely nodded in acknowledgment to the young Hidden Official. Chen Ping'an nodded back in kind.
The old man with the bulbous nose, surnamed Chen, laughed heartily. "Mountain Lord Chen, do we count as distant relatives?"
Chen Ping'an smiled. "We could count as such, but it would be a bit of a stretch."
The old man joked, "No wonder Ironworker Ruan hates talking about you the most."
Chen Ping'an's smile remained unchanged. He didn't reply.
The old man suddenly asked, "Earlier, we were on the boat discussing which of the twelve realms was the most important. What's your take, Mountain Lord Chen?"
Chen Ping'an replied with a serious expression. "All of them are important."
The old man was stunned for a moment, then gave a thumbs up. "A profound insight!"
Afterwards, Cao Yong asked the others to go to his mansion first, as he himself needed to see the young Hidden Official off on part of his journey.
Before leaving the Qili Long, Chen Ping'an asked this Drowning Li Bo if a certain course of action was feasible.
The old flood dragon placed his hands on his jade belt, his expression carefree. "It is only natural for a Dao-achieving scholar to prove the Dao and attain the Dao."
Having obtained the old flood dragon's consent, Chen Ping'an flicked his sleeve. The wind and rain abruptly ceased for a moment, and golden light, dot by dot, transformed into a golden river that flowed into his sleeve.
Historically, over a thousand literati had left behind more than two thousand poems.
And those poems recorded in local prefectural and county gazetteers, amounting to hundreds of thousands of characters, now seemed to receive a divine decree, "separating" themselves from their books.
Seeing this extraordinary phenomenon, Cao Yong stood there dumbfounded for a long time, unable to come back to his senses, even after Chen Ping'an and Taoist friend Qing Tong had already left. He was filled with emotion. He never expected that besides his swordsmanship and fist techniques, the young Hidden Official's Dao techniques were also so remarkable.
---
In the corridor, Lu Yan asked, "Supreme Saint, did you meet with Master Zou earlier?"
"I met him. We even chatted for a bit. In the end, Master Zou said a tough line to me: 'Eating at the same table, each holding their own bowl.'"
The Supreme Saint nodded. "Because I had first said a soft line to Master Zou: 'You, a fortune-telling yin-yang master and diviner, shouldn't bully our Confucian disciples.'"
Pure Yang Daoist noticed that the Supreme Saint beside him seemed to be in a good mood, a smile on his face, barely holding back from laughing out loud.
Pure Yang Daoist asked, "Supreme Saint, have you seen... a future scene?"
"I saw some of the past, saw all the cultivators, all the mortal masters. Every single one of us, standing on this earth, is like a... mountain peak. Without exception, we all stand as giants between heaven and earth, each differing only in height. No matter what happens to us, even if we bow our heads, even if we bend our backs, we still stand with our feet on the earth and carry the blue sky on our shoulders."
The Supreme Saint smiled slightly. "As for future events, they are seen but not spoken. Speaking them breaks their efficacy."
That was an infinite number of tiny trajectories, creating countless blurred paintings, which ultimately overlapped and converged into one at a certain point.
As the clouds and mists over heaven and earth dispersed, one could vaguely see someone leading the way. Several figures followed close behind, ascending step by step.
But before this, the Supreme Saint had also noticed something unusual.
The Supreme Saint couldn't help but slap the railing and laugh.
That scene flashed by. It was from earlier, when the founders of the three teachings jointly visited the old site of Li Zhu Cave Heaven. Back then, within the small town, among the three people, it was only the Dao Ancestor who saw Chen Ping'an.
The Dao Ancestor and Chen Ping'an walked side by side, heading towards that Mud Vase Alley.
In the end, the Dao Ancestor stopped outside the small alley.