Chapter 956: Someone Beats the Drum
In the Barbarian World, Golden Emerald City.
A pavilion with an eight-sided pointed roof, bearing the plaque "Moon Eyebrow."
The sky leaked, the moon was sparse and dim; the land was remote, the wind stirred of its own accord.
A middle-aged scholar in a blue long gown and a jade-green crown gently clenched his fist, holding two chess pieces, one black and one white, which creaked in his grasp.
As this guest elder of Golden Emerald City stirred his mind and thoughts, strange phenomena arose within the pavilion, myriad in form and grandeur, yet not a wisp of natural spiritual energy leaked beyond its confines.
First, a string of golden characters drifted upward—what were the first line, the second line, the third line?
Soon, because of these dozen-odd characters, a thunderclap resounded within the pavilion. The blue brick floor was like land, the veins in the bricks like water, stirring up waves a thousand fathoms high.
A fine secret mind seal of the Buddhist Chán sect—if you wish to know the style of our house, the azure sky thunders with lightning, the land stirs up waves.
Upon one particular blue brick, resembling a continent of mountains and rivers, the wind and waves suddenly ceased. In clear skies, two monks as tiny as mustard seeds climbed a height, master and disciple ascending the mountain together. The young monk, with a solemn and dignified expression, asked, "Master, you often teach the practice of the bird path. I am not yet clear—what is the bird path?" The old monk strode swiftly, walking as if flying, treading the perilous mountain path as if on level ground. Hearing this, he laughed and answered four words: "Meet no one." Along the climb, the two monks encountered cliffside inscriptions by the path, each only one character: Ancestor, Is, Dear, Universal, Essential. They passed each word as if through a barrier, without any pause. Suddenly the young monk asked again, "What is the original face?" Unexpectedly, the old monk replied, "Do not walk the bird path." The young monk fell silent. The old monk suddenly let out a great shout, "What is Buddha?" The young monk slowly answered, "The Bingding lad comes seeking fire." The old monk then said, "Good words. Bingding belongs to fire, seeking fire with fire—pity it hasn't reached the bottom. You may say more." The mountain beneath the two monks' feet was actually forged from the billions of written characters of the true and supplementary Daoist canons. Outside the path of this "Dao mountain," a bird suddenly cut across the sky, flapping its wings and circling the mountain. A green mountain began to rotate simultaneously, until finally the spinning mountain and the flying bird seemed to come to a standstill. Hence the saying: the swiftness of an arrowhead, and yet there is a time when it neither moves nor stops. The two monks, climbing without noticing the mountain's rotation, saw the bird outside the mountain like an arrow suspended motionless in the air. The young monk pondered in silence, and the old monk sighed, "A dewdrop hangs beneath the eaves." In that instant, the young monk had a flash of insight and asked himself, answering: "What is Buddha? The Bingding lad comes seeking fire." The old monk nodded gently, stamped his foot heavily on the ground, and finally laughed, saying one line: "Don't reveal the stolen goods..."
Back when he had finally figured something out, this middle-aged scholar, who had cultivated in Golden Emerald City for many years, devoted more of his attention to the vast ocean of Buddhist sutras, precepts, and treatises.
Outside the pavilion, the female city lord of Golden Emerald City arrived unhurriedly. She stopped and watched for a moment. Because the "Master" had not deliberately concealed the scene, she could see the strange people and events inside the pavilion. When the "Master" turned his head to look at her, she performed a graceful salute, smiled sweetly, and asked softly, "Master, what are you doing?"
The city lord, Qingjia, whose Dao name was "Yuanhu," was a female Immortal realm demon cultivator. She actually possessed an immortal-grade dharma robe called "Water Refinement," but in recent years at Golden Emerald City, unless there were various celebrations, she always wore an extremely plain green dharma robe called "Plantain Leaf," with only light makeup.
The guest elder of Golden Emerald City, whom Qingjia respectfully called "Master," stood up and smiled. "Nothing to do, just thinking casually to pass the time."
His surname was changed to Gai, given name Zheng. He was an out-of-town cultivator.
He had served as a guest elder in Golden Emerald City for nearly a hundred years, living in seclusion, almost never showing his face. Even Qingjia's direct disciples did not know that such an eccentric figure existed in Golden Emerald City.
Sometimes Gai Zheng would quietly travel far, never informing Qingjia, and she never asked.
Qingjia said sincerely, "Master, there's no need to be so concerned with formalities. The rules of the world are just shackles set for us common folk. With Master's profound knowledge of heaven and humanity, why bother..."
The middle-aged scholar smiled. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Rites cannot be discarded."
Qingjia exclaimed in admiration, "Master's self-discipline has the air of autumn."
The middle-aged scholar shook his head. "Not everyone who has read a few books can be called 'Master.'"
The term "Master" actually predates the ancient "scholar" and carries a broader meaning, comparable to "Daoist."
Qingjia always stood obediently at the bottom of the pavilion steps, asking tentatively, "I actually have nothing to consult Master about today. May I come sit inside the pavilion?"
On her shoulders perched a thrush and a flower-and-wood spirit called the Weaving Mother. In private, Qingjia always referred to this guest elder, who went by the alias Gai Zheng, as "Master," without adding his surname.
Moreover, the true master of Golden Emerald City was no longer her.
But the most "amusing" rather than frightening truth for Qingjia was that unless she saw the Master in this pavilion with her own eyes, all her memories of him and this matter were as if locked in a room—she, the owner, had no key, and only the Master held it.
Thus, even she herself was unaware of this fact. So who in the entire Barbarian World could know this truth?
Qingjia found it very interesting, like a young girl with first love, harboring a secret she was unwilling to share with anyone.
To be able to play with the mind of an Immortal realm cultivator as if in the palm of one's hand—even a peak Ascension realm cultivator wouldn't dare claim he could definitely do it. And to make the other party willingly accept this knowing it—that was even more unimaginable. The female immortal of Golden Emerald City, "Yuanhu," was no soft character. Relying solely on her Immortal realm, without any ancestor master to depend on, and being naturally unskilled in combat, she could still protect hundreds of female cultivators and the entire city—this showed that Yuanhu's Dao heart was extremely resilient.
The middle-aged scholar did not dispel the strange phenomena in the pavilion. He smiled and said, "Of course, the guest follows the host's convenience."
Hearing this, Qingjia bit her lip. Her lively, autumn-water eyes were both plaintive and seductive. She ascended the steps, lifting her skirt, and entered the pavilion. Only then did she realize the vastness of the small pavilion. Carefully stepping around certain blue bricks on the ground where Dao energy lingered, she finally sat opposite the Master.
A female immortal renowned throughout the world now sat upright, as if facing a tutor in a private school.
After sitting down, Qingjia showed a hint of self-deprecation. She said mockingly, "Master's casual thoughts to pass the time may produce conclusions that we dullards spend our entire lives unable to comprehend—the profound within the profound."
The middle-aged scholar shook his head. "Daoist friend Yuanhu flatters me. The more knowledge a person accumulates, the greater the unknown they face. Mortals focus on what they know; cultivators focus on knowing what they do not know."
Qingjia was speechless.
The middle-aged scholar sat upright, his smile warm, but in Qingjia's eyes, he was... elevated like a deity.
There was no help for it—the person before her was the one from White Emperor City who dared to kill at will on Tuoyue Mountain: Zheng Juzhong.
Qingjia wanted to speak but stopped.
As she herself had said, she originally didn't plan to discuss any serious matters, but once she entered the pavilion and sat face to face with Zheng Juzhong, she felt that if she didn't say something, it would be a bit... wasteful of the moment.
As for the two monks in the "small world" of the pavilion continuing to climb and converse, Qingjia looked but saw nothing, listened but understood nothing. First, she didn't comprehend it at all; second, their paths were different.
Qingjia forcibly suppressed that thought in her mind and changed the subject to a question that had long puzzled her. "May I ask Master, what do you consider truly interesting?"
Zheng Juzhong smiled. "Many things."
For example, in a medium-grade blessed land, Zheng Juzhong once had a version of himself start from scratch. From a weak scholar with no strength to truss a chicken, in just twenty years he became a military strategist who successfully assisted an emperor in unifying the world. At the same time, he added two new identities. One was a wild rustic with exceptional martial talent who rose in rebellion. The other became a mountain qi refiner with average cultivation aptitude who, after descending the mountain, became a strategist.
Each of the three had a potential main psychological thread that led them down different paths, responsible respectively for three things: creation, destruction, and repair.
Zheng Juzhong looked down at that mountain peak and suddenly said, "Daoist friend Yuanhu, it's time to make long-term plans for Golden Emerald City."
Qingjia felt relieved and said solemnly, "I humbly beg Master's advice."
Golden Emerald City's situation in the Barbarian World was similar to that of the Wine Spring Sect.
The foundation of these two sect-level entities was respectively the refinement of dharma robes and the brewing of immortal wine.
From the outside, it was said that Golden Emerald City had helped the old throne-level great demon Yangzhi upgrade the quality of an ink-colored dragon robe, thus gaining Yangzhi's protection. This was not untrue—the group of Ascension realm great demons in the Barbarian World rarely troubled Golden Emerald City—but it wasn't the whole truth. Yangzhi did favor Qingjia, but still intended to annex her, treating the city as a money-making treasure basin. The reason it didn't happen was Qingjia's insistence on her own views, even going so far as to make a harsh statement. Yangzhi seemed to have some unknown concerns and didn't bother with Qingjia. In any case, the bitterness of the matter was not for outsiders.
Because Golden Emerald City's dharma robes had high refinement thresholds and were difficult to mass-produce, during the last campaign against the Haoran World, Golden Emerald City and a few other sects like the Immortal Hairpin City had to spend money to avoid disaster, handing over a large sum of immortal money. On Golden Emerald City's side, they also emptied the secret treasury of dharma robes stored for a thousand years, selling them at a discount and delivering them to the Jiazi Account.
Thus, on the Sword Qi Great Wall side, no cultivators from Golden Emerald City appeared on the battlefield. City Lord Qingjia only showed up later at the Tuoyue Mountain council, confronting the group of Haoran great cultivators who participated in the Literary Temple council from afar. In fact, at the time, many among the opposing party scrutinized this female immortal of Golden Emerald City, mainly because of her "Refined Water" dharma robe, which contained the Dao aura of water and yin-yang separation, sun and moon alternation, and the movement of stars.
Zheng Juzhong glanced at the female immortal and nodded. "Daoist friend Taoting's suggestion is correct in broad direction."
Reading a person's Dao heart and examining memories was as easy as flipping through a book.
Qingjia felt no discomfort and pressed, "In Master's opinion?"
Golden Emerald City's ability to stand for thousands of years relied on two so-called backers: Yangzhi in the open and Taoting of the Barbarian World in the shadows.
Unfortunately, the old throne-level great demon Yangzhi failed to return to the Barbarian World, was intercepted by Liu Qi, and was imprisoned by the Literary Temple. Taoting had already been a watchdog in the Hundred Thousand Mountains for many years, and now, in the Haoran World, she had transformed into the "Tender Daoist" who famously made her mark at the Yuanyang Islet.
Therefore, one of Tuoyue Mountain's Grand Ancestor's direct disciples, the female great demon Xinzhuang, had previously demanded that Golden Emerald City hand over all its secret methods and Dao formulas for refining dharma robes.
Golden Emerald City had no room to bargain. In exchange, Tuoyue Mountain allowed Golden Emerald City to freely choose two locations to establish two subordinate sects.
But to Qingjia, what was the point of such cosmetic benefits? Utterly meaningless.
Even if Golden Emerald City established subordinate sects, it couldn't hold them. The direct disciples of Golden Emerald City were all female cultivators, knowing only how to refine dharma robes, not how to fight.
Thus, Taoting had previously secretly sent a highly covert letter.
The gist was to hint to Qingjia that a tree dies if moved, but a person lives by moving.
It would be better to relocate Golden Emerald City to the Haoran World and earn a living there, so the two sides could look out for each other. In the letter, Taoting guaranteed that while she wouldn't promise Golden Emerald City would be better off, she could at least maintain its current estate and easily obtain a sect-level identity from the Literary Temple.
To Taoting, Qingjia was just a young girl, half a junior of her own.
Because tracing back, Golden Emerald City had two Dao lineages—one resembling the orthodox lineage, the other a esoteric side tradition. Taoting and a certain identity-concealed Dao transmitter of Qingjia indeed had a storied history. They could hardly be called Dao companions, but calling them lovers would sound a bit coarse.
This Dao transmitter, who was not recorded in Golden Emerald City's lineage registry, had left behind a will and Dharma decree, saying that within the bright moonlight, there was an ancient existence whom Qingjia, by seniority, could call her Supreme Grandmaster. But when she would meet this grandmaster was uncertain—she just had to wait patiently.
Qingjia had originally thought Golden Emerald City could thus gain another towering backer. But then a bright moon in the sky was directly relocated to the Azure World by those lingering swordsmen of the Sword Qi Great Wall acting together. This left Qingjia with mixed feelings—laughing and crying—and how was she supposed to acknowledge her ancestors? Yet, disappointment aside, she also felt a bit relieved. After all, in Golden Emerald City, she already had Master Zheng, to whom she was willing to entrust her life—that was enough. If that grandmaster, with his ancient Dao age, were to return to the human world and come to Golden Emerald City, it might instead bring disaster.
The Great Li Dynasty, on the Baoping Continent battlefield, had extensively looted any dharma robes from Golden Emerald City, but unfortunately failed to capture a few Golden Emerald City direct disciples skilled in refinement techniques.
At the celebration three hundred years ago when City Lord Yuanhu achieved Immortal realm, Yangzhi attended in person, and Taoting also sneaked out of the Hundred Thousand Mountains.
The Summer Retreat Palace's secret archives had clear records of this.
Obviously, the Haoran World and the Barbarian World were already on the verge of war, ready to break out at any moment. For Golden Emerald City, without Master Zheng, there was no choice: either voluntarily attach itself to Tuoyue Mountain, or be breached by the Haoran World and become captives.
Qingjia noticed that the Master seemed a bit distracted. She didn't dare disturb his celestial roaming and waited patiently for him to continue.
Zheng Juzhong soon came back to himself and said to her a concise sentence, "Simply replace Tuoyue Mountain's Xinzhuang with the Central Earth Literary Temple. Golden Emerald City voluntarily reduces its demands by half, take root in Fuyang Continent, and then in another continent, such as Baibai Continent, select a territory as a subordinate sect."
Qingjia clearly had no objection to this, showing no surprise. There were few Barbarian World sects adaptable to Haoran's soil, and Golden Emerald City happened to be among them. She asked cautiously, "How do we move all of Golden Emerald City's assets? And how do we choose the cultivators?"
Zheng Juzhong said, "Just follow me."
Worried she might not understand, Zheng Juzhong explained with a smile, "The entire Golden Emerald City has been refined by me into a lifebound object. To deceive Tuoyue Mountain and avoid exposing the truth and implicating Daoist friend Yuanhu, this matter indeed cost me quite a bit of time."
The reason Zheng Juzhong had been distracted earlier was that he was considering something completely unrelated to the discussion between them.
And this matter, Zheng Juzhong had only discussed with Cui Chan.
Their views were roughly the same. With sentient beings, led by cultivators, building roads and bridges to venture beyond the heavens was a visible path out—using those celestial stars as bridges or "sect enclaves." If the chessboard was large enough, one could escape the struggle for victory or defeat, reducing internal consumption in the predetermined world. Perhaps with humanity at the forefront, cooperating sincerely with cultivators of all races, selecting habitable places on those celestial stars to multiply and thrive...
But this path—whether a new "way out" or an old "way in"—was far from sufficient. As a precaution, one needed an unprecedented path to "go inward," giving all beings in the world another way of living. That would be a necessary retreat to be planned for in advance.
Embroidered Tiger Cui Chan exhausted his scholarship to finally create the porcelain figure, precisely to prove to Zheng Juzhong and also to the three founders of the three religions this terrifying unexpected contingency.
The ready example was right before their eyes. The three of you could hardly pretend not to see it.
Zheng Juzhong was convinced that if humanity neither found a way out nor discovered a retreat sufficient to protect itself, then one day it would destroy itself.
Just as the once-exalted gods were destroyed by the earthly beings they created.
Every self we dare not admit is a trapped beast pacing in a cage, a god sitting high in a grand hall.
Most so-called attained Daoists have no idea what it truly means to found a sect and become an ancestor—what the root of founding a sect is for, what the purpose of becoming an ancestor is.
If the eye is not high, the hand is naturally lower. It is destined that one cannot reach "that curtain."
Inside the pavilion, one was thinking about Golden Emerald City's survival, and the other was considering the survival of all sentient beings.
That was probably the difference.
No wonder the Daoist Sun of Xuandu Abbey once joked, "The gap between people is greater than the gap between a person and a pig."
Zheng Juzhong waved his sleeve, withdrawing the strange phenomena within the pavilion. He bent two fingers and lightly tapped the pavilion pillar.
In the woodwork of the mortal world, mortise and tenon are key.
At home, the door; outside, the school; in cultivation, the mountain.
What is used to connect people's hearts?
Zheng Juzhong stood up and smiled. "We are all lamps burning, flickering in the world."
Words and deeds are mutual mortise and tenon; people's hearts together make the lamp.
Build shelters, huddle together for warmth.
Then Zheng Juzhong walked out of the Moon Eyebrow Pavilion first, leading Qingjia on a stroll through Golden Emerald City. In the heavy snow season, the palaces and halls of Golden Emerald City were extremely magnificent, beautiful as a crystalline realm.
Qingjia, following beside Zheng Juzhong, could not use her Dao techniques, so she also concealed her form. In what seemed like a palace hall, a girl with a coiled serpent bun stood on tiptoe, stretching her waist, holding a long pole to knock off icicles. A string of broken jade sounds fell to the ground, and the girls' laughter was as melodious as warbling orioles and twittering swallows.
Leaving the palace, Zheng Juzhong led Qingjia to a moat outside Golden Emerald City. The river was wide; under the bridge, the ice was frozen solid. Many children were running and playing on it.
Zheng Juzhong strolled along the river upstream to a riverside embankment. The path underfoot was built of long, narrow stone slabs stacked densely, with gaps filled with sticky rice paste and reinforced with iron clamps and tenons, layered like fish scales, or like the jutting bones of an old man.
Zheng Juzhong had always been curious over the years: how did Qi Jingchun manage what he did in the Lizhu Cave Heaven back then? And what exactly did Qi Jingchun see?
What truly interested Zheng Juzhong was when someone accomplished something he could not achieve no matter how much effort he put in. Matters themselves had magnitude, but in Zheng Juzhong's mind, they did not necessarily have hierarchy. If one immortal money from the mountains suddenly could only be exchanged for one hundred taels of silver in the mortal world, how would the world's situation change? Or if suddenly all three types of immortal money vanished from the world, how would events develop?
He had heard that when Cui Chan was young, an elder in his family forbade him from reading martial arts romances and tales of scholars and beauties.
And also forbade him from playing chess, because they believed clever people easily became addicted to it, wasting precious time and neglecting their studies.
Qingjia turned to look at Master Zheng. After a moment, she laughed to herself, summoned her courage, and asked, "Master, how do you view romantic love between men and women? Forgive my impertinence—has Master ever had a woman he admired?"
Zheng Juzhong smiled and shook his head.
Qingjia had never had a Dao companion in her life, nor did she feel the need for one. But she had a greatly favored direct disciple who, following a female friend—a direct descendant of the great demon Guanxiang clan—and a group of familiar female cultivators, rode a highly prestigious vehicle north to the Sword Qi Great Wall. They said they failed to ascend the wall but saw from afar the young Hidden Officer in his blood-red robe, and the vehicle even got hit by a lightning technique—not a wasted trip.
They succeeded in seeing the young Hidden Officer, renowned throughout the world.
They were overjoyed, with a uniform impression.
Just two words: Truly handsome!
After returning home, Qingjia's direct disciple became lovesick to the point of madness, as if possessed.
Zheng Juzhong said calmly, "A person who is obsessed with love and desire is like holding a torch and walking against the wind—they are bound to burn their hand."
Qingjia dared not ask further.
Zheng Juzhong walked slowly. Earlier, at the Tattoo Crossing, another version of himself had indeed met Wu Shuangjiang of the Suichu Palace.
White Emperor City in the Haoran World; Suichu Palace in the Azure World.
Both were universally recognized as the places with the tightest control over their sects. All cultivators revered their respective sect masters as gods.
At that time, Zheng Juzhong had gotten straight to the point: "Palace Master Wu shouldn't have come so early."
Wu Shuangjiang smiled. "A broken bowl is not worth looking back at."
But since Wu Shuangjiang had come, it meant that the Embroidered Tiger had, to some extent, begun to close the net. Zheng Juzhong would make one move according to the prior agreement.
At that time, Wu Shuangjiang looked at the canopy above the Sword Qi Great Wall, where a bright moon was being dragged toward the Azure World, and asked casually, "It seems it won't come to blows?"
Zheng Juzhong said, "Because Chen Ping'an's heart is still not hard enough."
In the end, Chen Ping'an's choice wasn't too surprising.
The third leader of the Jade Capital, Lu Chen, almost died at the hands of a dead man.
—
In the Azure World, at the center of heaven and earth, one mountain stood alone: Leap Moon Peak.
Parting with Lin Jiangxian on the mountain path, Cave Master Bixiao left only Qi Gu behind, taking his newly arrived disciple Wang Yuanlu, who had come to pay respects, and the little fire-tending Daoist boy with the Dao name Jinjing, and together they left Leap Moon Peak to go to the simple Daoist lodge within the bright moonlight.
As a gift for accepting the disciple, the old Daoist took out a palm-sized palace miniature model and tossed it to Wang Yuanlu, glancing at the little Daoist boy. "This place belongs to Wang Yuanlu. Jinjing, as long as Wang Yuanlu has no objection, you can cultivate and refine pills here in the future."
As for the formal disciple-greeting ceremony, that was waived. Wang Yuanlu was naturally glad to avoid such mountain formalities.
Wang Yuanlu received the "Immortal Palace Ruins" of unknown origin with both hands—it was undoubtedly extremely rare and precious.
The little Daoist boy obeyed his master's decree and dared not complain. Everyone has their own fate. Since he couldn't envy others, why bother to envy... Damn, it really made him covet.
The old Daoist ignored the two with their own agendas, went into the house, and simply had Jinjing continue monitoring the furnace's fire, and take the opportunity to teach Wang Yuanlu a pill-refining Dao formula. How much he could teach and how much he could learn depended on each's ability.
Wang Yuanlu stored the heavy treasure in his sleeve—safe in pocket first—then asked, "Brother Jinjing, can you tell me about this object's origin?"
For the sake of that "brother," the little Daoist boy rolled his eyes. "Have you ever heard a saying?"
He waited for a long time, and there was no follow-up. Wang Yuanlu was confused.
Only then did the little Daoist boy swagger across the threshold, sit on a stool beside the furnace, and say with a laugh, "An old saying: 'The dragon lurks in the deep green water pit, fire aids the Sun Palace.' You know it?"
Wang Yuanlu crouched nearby and shook his head. "Never heard of it."
The little Daoist boy sneered. "A frog at the bottom of the well!"
Wang Yuanlu smiled without refuting. Who was the frog at the bottom of the well was not yet certain.
The little Daoist boy continued, "Legend has it that it belonged to one of the five supreme beings of ancient times..."
At this point, the little Daoist boy quickly stopped, pointing at the ceiling. "That 'Lüshui Pit' was the summer resort palace of the ancient water god—just one of them. As for the 'Sun Palace,' whose territory it was, guess for yourself. Anyway, its quality surpasses the Lüshui Pit by a notch. Legend has it that it was once one of the places where swords were forged. Outside cultivators know nothing; they just spread rumors, saying it was shattered. Actually, it's stored right here at my master's place. It's an extremely excellent treasure, ranking among my master's... top five possessions. You got your hands on it, so just be secretly happy."
Wang Yuanlu sighed. "Brother Jinjing really knows a lot."
The little Daoist boy stared at the furnace flames, his young face shining brightly in the firelight. He curled his lip. "What's the use?"
Wang Yuanlu put his hands in his sleeves and said softly, "Better than no use at all."
The little Daoist boy was furious, thinking the other was mocking him. But when he turned his head, he saw a sincere face tinged with sadness.
In the Azure World, Gan Prefecture, Suichu Palace.
In the highest built-viewing pavilion in the mountain, four people gathered to drink.
They were passing around a booklet written by the palace master in fine script, detailing the customs and practices of the Colorful World.
From here, one could see both the Stork Tower and the pillar in the river's center outside the tower, which was actually a "Dragon-Sleeping Stone."
These few were all "old faces" from the Stork Inn. A small, obscure inn on Hanging Sword Mountain in the Haoran World, operated for two or three hundred years. The small inn hid dragons and crouching tigers—one Ascension, two Immortals, plus two Jade level. Besides the young innkeeper, there were four cooks and attendants, all using aliases with the surname Nian and traveling to Hanging Sword Mountain in the Haoran World in yin-shen form. Among them, the "girl" alias Nian Chuanghua was the daughter of Palace Master Wu Shuangjiang, with the Dao name "Lamplight."
The young innkeeper was Bai Luo, nicknamed "Xiao Bai" by Wu Shuangjiang, the second-in-command who handled all secular affairs of Suichu Palace.
At present, besides Bai Luo the Vigil Keeper, the other four were all here.
Zhang Yuanbo, a white-haired old man with a red nose and the Dao name "Dragon in Cave," tossed the finished booklet lightly to the couple flirting at the next table.
In his spare time, if given a jug of wine and a dish of appetizers, this old man could drink all day.
Every time he took a sip, he'd spit a large amount back into the bowl.
His three signature moves at the table: slurp a mouthful, squint in ecstasy, and shiver.
Zhang Yuanbo's Daoist lodge had once been atop that Dragon-Sleeping Stone. Later, a sword cultivator named Cheng Quan arrived, so Zhang Yuanbo voluntarily moved out—no need for the Patriarch Hall to decide. If such trivial matters required the palace master's decision, others would laugh their heads off.
The mountain man Yu Yuchou reached out and caught the booklet. He looked serious, flipping through it like the wind, the pages rustling. Though he read quickly, he dared not miss a single word.
After all, it was the palace master's own handwriting.
Back then, three thousand Azure World Dao officials entered the Colorful World. Nominally, only a little over a thousand were from the Jade Capital, which was still over four hundred short of half.
But in fact, the celestial lords and immortal officials of the Jade Capital had many branches scattered about, with countless connections. If broadly counted, the Jade Capital Dao officials still accounted for about half the slots.
This man's mountain Dao companion was named Xie Chuntiao, a robust woman whose appearance was decidedly... not very immortal. She liked strong liquor and talking dirty.
Xie Chuntiao wore a bamboo hairpin in her hair, drinking in silence.
As for her Dao companion, he was a man with wandering hands, practically a lecher reincarnated.
To cultivators, that kind of bed-wrestling was pointless, but since he was her Dao companion, she let him have his way.
The man handed the booklet to his companion, not forgetting to give her wrist a little pinch. Xie Chuntiao took the booklet with one hand and slapped him on the head with the other, almost sending him spinning in place.
Zhang Yuanbo frowned. "Why at this critical juncture, seven or eight years earlier than expected, did a list of ten people under heaven suddenly pop up?"
Yu Yuchou grinned. "Let them do what they want. Anyway, I'm not on the list, so I don't give a damn."
Xie Chuntiao read the booklet as she said, "The key point is that the Xianzhi Sect declared that this list wasn't their doing, which is very strange."
The "girl" alias Nian Chuanghua, whose real name was Wu Hui, as Wu Shuangjiang's daughter, had a name that seemed somewhat disadvantageous.
Because its homophones were not very auspicious: filth, misunderstanding, no regrets...
Back then, during that joint yin-shen remote travel, they had crossed two worlds, but not with their complete souls—their true bodies and yang-shen remained in Suichu Palace.
Of course, they were protected by Palace Master Wu Shuangjiang's secret arts; otherwise, at their levels, their yin-shen couldn't have stayed that long at Hanging Sword Mountain, and they could still cultivate.
The young female cultivator wore a small, exquisite rattle drum at her waist. The painted drumhead featured intricate designs, stitched from dragon skin, with a peach wood handle hanging a red-threaded glass bead.
Given her cultivation, and even though it was refined as a lifebound object, the drum's treasure light was not fully concealed—showing it was not only a immortal-grade heavy treasure, but among immortal artifacts, it was certainly top-tier. At Suichu Palace, on New Year's Eve each year, there was an old custom of lighting candles to illuminate and dispel, and beating drums to drive away plague ghosts. The one responsible for these two matters was Wu Hui.
During the Stork Inn days, Wu Hui used the alias Nian Chuanghua.
Because when she was young, she once spent New Year's Eve with her father.
Wu Shuangjiang liked to read miscellaneous books, especially literary notes about anecdotes. Wu Hui had once heard her father quote a line from a book.
"A person inside the window writes and pastes flowers on the window paper; I watch from outside the window—it is excellent."
It might have been from a book, or it might have come from his own feelings—who knows.
Wu Hui said, "I'll ask my father about it later?"
Yu Yuchou quickly shook his head. "Wu Hui, restrain yourself, please restrain yourself. Don't let us get scolded by the palace master."
For three hundred years, the ten people of the Azure World had changed very little, mostly old faces.
The Jade Capital occupied the top three spots without dispute: the first leader Kou Ming, the second leader Yu Dou, the third leader Lu Chen.
Fourth was the old sect head of the Huayang Palace at the Lungi Mountain, the old true man with the Dao name "Great Mountain" Gao Gu.
Fifth, Sun Huaizhong of Xuandu Abbey. Sixth, Lin Jiangxian of Crow Mountain, the only pure martial artist on the list.
The next few were all venerable old names with resounding titles and Dao names.
Others like Wu Shuangjiang of Suichu Palace and the female patriarch of Two Capitals Mountain with the Dao name "Overlook," Zhaoge, had been on the list before but withdrew due to long seclusions.
As for Wu Prefecture, her seclusion was even longer. This female Daoist root wanderer with the Dao name "Taiyin" had almost been completely forgotten by the Azure World.
Regarding the previous ten people, except for four, the various rankings still provided plenty of debate among onlookers. Those four were, of course, the three Jade Capital leaders and Daoist Sun of Xuandu Abbey.
But this time, the list that someone had cooked up—the newest ten people under heaven—was filled with mystery and even an undercurrent... killing intent!
The top name was Yu Dou, the second leader of the Jade Capital.
Second, Lu Chen, the third leader, city lord of Nanhua City.
Third, Cave Master Bixiao, whose Daoist lodge was currently within the bright moonlight.
Fourth, native of Yong Prefecture, a wanderer, a refining master, the female Daoist Wu Prefecture.
Fifth, from Qi Prefecture, Xuandu Abbey's abbot, Sun Huaizhong.
Sixth, from Ru Prefecture, Red Gold Dynasty, Crow Mountain's Lin Jiangxian—the number one martial artist under heaven.
Seventh, Wu Shuangjiang of Suichu Palace.
Eighth, from You Prefecture, Huayang Palace at Lungi Mountain, Gao Gu—the number one pill-refining grandmaster under heaven.
Ninth, from Bing Prefecture, Green God Dynasty, Elegant Minister Yao Qing.
Tenth, a tie between two: the female Daoist with Dao name "Empty Mountain" of Xuandu Abbey, Wang Sun, and the pure martial artist of Leap Moon Peak, Xin Ku.
There were also ten alternates. But compared to the top ten, they didn't spark much interest from onlookers.
First, this list of ten no longer included the first leader of the Jade Capital, Kou Ming!
That alone was shocking enough, like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
Second, the reappearance of Wu Prefecture confirmed her Fourteen Realm status. That she pushed out Gao Gu's position was not surprising, but why didn't Gao Gu follow closely? Could it be that Sun Huaizhong of Xuandu Abbey was the immovable fifth person, an ironclad rule in the Azure World? Or that Abbot Sun had also broken into the Fourteen Realm? Xuandu Abbey was a Daoist sword immortal lineage, and Sun Huaizhong was... a Fourteen Realm pure sword cultivator?!
Also, at Xuandu Abbey, besides Daoist Sun, there was now a senior sister, Wang Sun. And everyone knew about the grudges between Xuandu Abbey and the Jade Capital. Could it be...?
Xie Chuntiao was about to return the booklet to Wu Hui, who shook her head. "Keep it."
Zhang Yuanbo thought of something, pinched his chin, and puzzled, "Back then, when Lady Gui backed out at the last minute and didn't come with us to the Azure World, could she have sensed something was off?"
Yu Yuchou thought of the graceful Lady Gui, whose charm was completely different from his wife's coquettish gestures. The man couldn't help but grin, immediately earning an elbow from Xie Chuntiao that made him break out in cold sweat.
Xie Chuntiao sighed out of nowhere, "I still can't believe that boy could become the Hidden Officer and carve words on the city wall."
The clear gaze of that young sword-bearing boy was truly unforgettable.
The boy who once carried a sword, the last Hidden Officer, was a regular customer at the inn.
Twice he had travelled to Hanging Sword Mountain and stayed at the Stork Inn at the end of the alley, showing his support.
Zhang Yuanbo nodded with a smile, looking at Wu Hui. "I think Dong Huafu didn't look too bad either."
Wu Hui pretended not to catch the subtext.
Back when Hanging Sword Mountain returned to the Azure World, Dong Huafu had come with Yan Zhuo and Cheng Quan to Suichu Palace, touring the sights—good scenery well worth seeing, didn't cost him a single copper coin. During that time, they met that "little girl" with the Dao name Lamplight, who, despite being accomplished in cultivation and looking young, spoke to them in a sarcastic tone.
Unfortunately, they ran into the wrong person.
Wu Hui indeed couldn't out-argue that Dong Dark Charcoal.
In an argument, the worst thing is when you can't understand what the other party is saying.
Fortunately, they didn't come to blows, only arranged a fight.
To this day, Wu Hui didn't know that the fight was arranged by Dong Huafu on behalf of Chen Ping'an, not for himself.
On the Dragon-Sleeping Stone, Wu Shuangjiang paid a visit.
Wu Shuangjiang exchanged a few words about cultivation with the youth-faced Nalan Shaowei, and finally only Cheng Quan was left to accompany the palace master in a walk by the river.
As the leader of the sixteen wandering sword cultivators of the Sword Qi Great Wall, the old Nascent Soul Cheng Quan carried a cloth-wrapped sword case containing one of Nalan Shaowei's life lanterns.
Cheng Quan had joined Suichu Palace's Patriarch Hall mountain-and-water registry but had not received ordination or an official Dao tablet. That meant the old sword cultivator was still not a Dao official.
The Dragon-Sleeping Stone under their feet would normally drift with the water, never taking root for long. But Wu Shuangjiang had personally applied several layers of restrictions to detain it here.
In truth, aside from the value of the stone itself, this move was unprofitable for Wu Shuangjiang—a bad bargain. In other sects or Daoist temples, they might have dug a circular channel so the drifting stone could continuously accumulate water fortune, yielding a long-term profit. But Suichu Palace's foundation was deep, and Wu Shuangjiang had many such wasteful acts; this was just one more.
Historically, there were four Dragon-Sleeping Stones in total. One was completely shattered in a battle between water and fire. One was later refined into a lifebound object by an ancient immortal. Another was the sea stone taken as a forbidden treasure by Lady Dandan of the Lüshui Pit. The last was the Daoist lodge at Suichu Palace.
It was rumored—only rumored.
That in the past, Palace Master Wu Shuangjiang's Dao companion had poor cultivation aptitude but loved collecting rare treasures from around the world. Wu Shuangjiang would travel the world with her, and everything she liked, he would bring back to Suichu Palace.
Upon learning of these deeds, Cheng Quan asked tentatively, "Palace Master Wu, are there any landscape paintings I could see?"
Wu Shuangjiang stopped. Outside the Dragon-Sleeping Stone, mist rose from the river. The river water became like a mirror. In the watery picture, a female cultivator, seemingly insane, laughed wildly, raising a withered arm that crumbled like ash. She patted her head.
As if deranged, she declared to the young Hidden Officer that killing her would be fine—just add another battle merit. But she begged the young Hidden Officer to be sure to kill the prime culprit and shatter Tuoyue Mountain...
Then a golden bolt of lightning reduced the Immortal realm female cultivator's body to powder.
This picture was cropped at both ends, so Cheng Quan looked baffled—what was going on?
As for that Immortal realm great demon, Cheng Quan naturally recognized her. The female cultivator, Dao name Fanlu, had once been the leader of a sect occupying a region in the Barbarian World.
It seemed she could only rely on a life-sustaining lamp, losing part of her soul, and then inhabit a corpse. But this was the lowest form of corpse liberation. After all, demon cultivators placed far more importance on "true bodies" than human qi refiners. Many techniques and the foundation of the Dao were closely tied to the true body. Thus, demon cultivators suffered far more frequent realm drops than human cultivators.
Moreover, even if she could start over, it would be nearly impossible to walk the same cultivation path as her previous life. Without the familiar old path, how could future cultivation go smoothly?
So, for any sect-level faction in the Barbarian World, placing a life-sustaining lamp in the Patriarch Hall was almost guaranteed to be a losing proposition.
Even for a sect leader, even if they could rely on the life-sustaining lamp, the next step was often an unquestionable change of dynasty.
Although Cheng Quan couldn't grasp the intricacies, it didn't stop the old sword cultivator from grinning from ear to ear.
Being killed on Tuoyue Mountain was like a Dao official getting cut down at the Jade Capital, or a Confucian scholar getting beaten by an outsider at the Central Earth Literary Temple.
Delightful, delightful.
Our Hidden Officer, sure enough, remains as tender with the fairer sex as always.
Wu Shuangjiang smiled faintly. "Indeed, it was frustrating. If Fanlu had fought fairly with the young Hidden Officer, she wouldn't have died so pathetically. But that Tuoyue Mountain battle was too bizarre. It seems the Grand Ancestor's senior disciple, the prime culprit, joined forces with Chen Ping'an to kill off that group of Barbarian World upper five realm cultivators who were visiting Tuoyue Mountain."
Cheng Quan was shocked. "That group?! Not just Fanlu, that old witch?"
Wu Shuangjiang nodded. "Quite a few."
The old sword cultivator laughed heartily. "Not in vain did I never talk back when arguing with the Hidden Officer back then."
Wu Shuangjiang let it go with a smile.
The old sword cultivator sighed with a thousand emotions.
This Hidden Officer indeed never disappoints.
Wu Shuangjiang suddenly asked with a smile, "Cheng Quan, who have you hated most in your life?"
Cheng Quan was silent.
Of course, he hated many—just those demon beasts alone, could he count them all?
But the person Cheng Quan hated most was himself.
Hated his own poor swordsmanship. Hated his own cowardice. He dared to curse at Dong Sangui and Qi Tingji, and would not waste saliva on the likes of Old Deafy. Yet this sword cultivator, in his whole life, had never dared to say the word "like."
Some things don't wait for people.
Some people also don't wait.
Cheng Quan looked dejected.
Wu Shuangjiang said, "You must remember the sword cultivator Huiting of the Red Leaf Sword Sect?"
Cheng Quan's gaze turned sharp instantly.
Cheng Quan and his close friend Zhao Geyi had once made a private pact: the next time Huiting appeared on the Sword Qi Great Wall, if they still couldn't cut him into eight pieces, they would both go mute from then on. Unfortunately, a hundred years ago, Huiting shattered his lifebound flying sword "Cosmetics" on the battlefield, dropped in realm, and recuperated in the sect, not participating in the final great battle.
Wu Shuangjiang said, "There's another picture. Look for yourself."
It turned out that to kill the Red Leaf Sword Sect's Nascent Soul sword cultivator Huiting, Chen Ping'an had let an Immortal realm demon cultivator go. Of course, that one was also heavily damaged after the Tuoyue Mountain battle.
Huiting chose to trade his life for another, to give an Immortal realm demon who had never been to the Sword Qi Great Wall a chance to live.
On the battlefield, sword light first fell, cleaving Huiting's head in two. Then a peerlessly sharp sword light swept across, cutting him in half at the waist.
Then a hovering thunder formation, using the Five Thunder True Method to slowly refine the cultivator's soul.
The most terrifying part was that within the resplendent thunder formation filled with Dao charm, two golden characters emerged, forcibly peeled away—those were Huiting's true demon name.
A slaughter that would send chills down any observer's spine and make their hair stand on end.
There were many battles on the Sword Qi Great Wall, and the cruel scenes and ruthless methods were endless.
Just consider Mi Yu, Nalan Caihuan, Qi Shou—these sword cultivators; in the eyes of the Barbarian World demons, were they any less ruthless?
What made this picture especially discomforting was that the perpetrator was Chen Ping'an.
But Cheng Quan was definitely an exception.
He absolutely would not feel that anything was wrong.
Wu Shuangjiang withdrew the secret art, and the picture dissipated with the water.
Like the impermanence of life, drifting gatherings and partings.
Wu Shuangjiang went to the Stork Tower.
The old sword cultivator thanked Palace Master Wu, then walked alone by the river, his expression relaxed, smiling freely—this was something the Hidden Officer would do.
In the old days, on the city wall, fighting side by side between battles, he couldn't even out-argue the young Hidden Officer.
The old man turned, seemingly not yet having time to hide his smile, but suddenly his aged face was streaked with tears.
Unintentionally.
Inside the Stork Tower.
Wu Shuangjiang ascended floor by floor to the top. The door opened by itself, and he entered a room.
In the history of the Azure World, Suichu Palace was once barely a second-rate sect until Wu Shuangjiang appeared. He single-handedly elevated Suichu Palace to one of the world's most top-tier sects.
Besides Wu Shuangjiang's own extremely high Dao techniques, to the point that he seemed to see no bottlenecks at any realm, what truly made the cultivators of the world fear him was his unique ability to transmit the Dao and teach. It was unparalleled.
Thus, within Suichu Palace, Wu Shuangjiang was notoriously absolute in his authority.
In the room, aside from Bai Luo the Vigil Keeper, there was also the Dao official in charge of records and literature, Gao Ping.
Additionally, there were three others. One was a Dao official who looked about the same age as Gao Ping, with a face of about twenty, full of heroic spirit. He used the alias Huan Jing, with the Dao name "Wu Yang" (Safe and Sound).
Another was an old man privately nicknamed "The Grand Talkative Scholar," alias Chang You. He showed no fear even when seeing the Suichu Palace palace master crossing the threshold.
The last was a ghost immortal with an incomplete soul, surname Yang. He had long left his teacher's sect and family, had been in seclusion in Suichu Palace for many years, and this was his first time leaving his Daoist lodge.
Wu Shuangjiang was the first to sit cross-legged, saying with a smile, "No need to be formal."
Outside the Stork Tower, clouds and water drifted unhurriedly, sharing sorrow with you.
Inside the Stork Tower, the heroes of the military, who could sit together?
Some people seem to exist only in books.
And then some people seem to step out of those books.
And this book is called the Martial Temple.
—
In the Haoran World, Tongye Continent, the Demon Suppression Tower.
Outside the tower, the celestial phenomena of the mountain and water spirits offering incense together gradually dissipated.
Among them, one water incense and one mountain incense came respectively from the old gentleman of Shujian Lake, who served as the doorkeeper of the imitation Jade Capital, and the Pure Yang Daoist Lü Yan.
"Since you have made a decision regarding those merits left by your few senior brothers, I must still remind you one thing."
The Supreme Sage smiled and teased, "If you give away merit out of personal motives, there will be no return at all. Don't harbor any vain hope."
Chen Ping'an nodded.
Without a word, Chen Ping'an offered up that flying sword that did not belong to his lifebound flying swords—"Little Fengdu." "Please trouble the Supreme Sage to help open the restrictions."
The Supreme Sage didn't find this surprising. A young man whose Dao heart even the Embroidered Tiger couldn't shatter being sharp-witted was not strange.
But he didn't act immediately. The Supreme Sage asked out of nowhere, "A cultivator who still has no Dao name—that's unacceptable, isn't it?"
Chen Ping'an had a rare moment of awkward smile. He couldn't very well say in front of the Supreme Sage that he was extremely good at naming things, but had too many candidate Dao names to choose from.
The Supreme Sage asked again, "When you go to the Azure World in the future, have you thought of an alias?"
Chen Ping'an was taken aback and shook his head. "I haven't considered that."
As for aliases, he had quite a few: Chen Haoren in Beiju Continent, Cao Mo in Tongye Continent, Dou Yi in the Colorful World. As for the Azure World... he just got one!
But the Supreme Sage smiled and said, "As long as you know it yourself, there's no need to tell me, to avoid leaking celestial secrets."
Then the Supreme Sage reached out, pinched the flying sword with two fingers, and, without needing Qingtong to open the Demon Suppression Tower's restrictions, simply tossed the sword lightly outside the tower. It turned into a slender firefly, instantly traveling thousands of miles, disappearing into the night.
Suddenly, like countless stars gradually falling onto the desolate wilderness, lights blazed one after another on the earth, growing denser and denser—hundreds of billions, shining and moving, uncountable. In the ruined cities and desolate fields, they were like tiny fireflies. Some wandered alone with a single lamp; some paired together with two lamps. All were lost souls with no burial place, wandering restlessly. Where the lamps clustered densely, there were the broken lands of Tongye Continent—abandoned camps uncollected, horses recognizing tattered flags. Battlefield sites large and small, in the endless ruined cities, where after the restoration of the nation, there was no time to hold water and land Dharma assemblies to honor the dead—the resentful spirits, unwilling to disperse, still hoped to protect the land. Heroes and spirits donned shattered armor, their lamps gathering together. Though trickling streams are few, they gather into rivers; though weak, a spark can set the wilds ablaze. Everywhere, the lamps gathered and scattered, like people on the road who must eventually go their separate ways. In official government offices and private academies, sounds of reading rose like lamplight studying late into the night. Some dim lamps seemed to cross rivers, speeding against the wind, or hesitating, looking back. In the market towns and countryside, lamps were few, like a cold window's candlelight gleaming faintly. Some lamps met on the road, stopping as if encountering old acquaintances. Over the ruins of sects like Peace Mountain, Fuji Sect, and Jade Fungus Ridge, lamps rose like cultivators riding the wind, trailing firefly-like brilliance in the dark night. Across the continent, lamps of equal height appeared, like husband and wife unwilling to part in life or death. Some lamps at different heights seemed like adults holding their children's hands, parents bending down to comfort them: "Don't be afraid, Mom and Dad are right here..."
The Supreme Sage turned his head to look at the blue-robed visitor beside him.
The young man, who had been silently gazing into the distance, when he saw this final scene, suddenly found his eyes blurred with tears. His lips trembled, and he screwed up his face.
The Supreme Sage waited quietly for the young man to gradually compose himself.
The young man turned his head, took several deep breaths, then turned back, silently bowing to the Supreme Sage in thanks.
The old man turned sideways and returned the bow.
Looking at the time, it would soon be the new year.
Thus, when Chen Ping'an straightened up, he found that he was no longer in the Demon Suppression Tower on Tongye Continent.
Instead, he was back on the peak of Great Mountain Sui.
Legend has it that in ancient times, Sui Mountain once housed a Solar Term Pavilion, where a Spring-announcing Drum was set up. Beating this drum signified bidding farewell to the old year and welcoming the new in the Haoran World, announcing the arrival of spring to the human world.
But for reasons unknown, no one had beaten the drum to welcome spring on Sui Mountain for far too many years.
Standing on the high platform of the Solar Term Pavilion, Chen Ping'an stared blankly at the enormous Spring-announcing Drum. He took a deep breath.
Chen Ping'an began to beat the drum.
Beating the Spring-announcing Drum, the whole world welcomes spring together.