Chapter 961: The Fleeting Years of Youth

Chapter 961: The Fleeting Years of Youth

The Old Scholar strode across the threshold, waving his hand to indicate that no one needed to change seats. He sat down on the bench beside Cui Dongshan.

Cui Dongshan's lips moved slightly, but he probably failed to call out that "Ancestral Master."

Chen Ping'an took out a jar of wine and a set of twelve flower-fairie cups, all of which he had pilfered during the last Confucian Temple assembly. He asked Xiao Mili to help distribute the cups and pour the wine.

The Old Scholar took the cup, and after Xiao Mili had filled it for the Literary Sage, she placed the wine jar on the bench beside him. The Old Scholar remembered something and pulled a large stack of red envelopes from his sleeve. Each envelope contained two Snowflake Coins. The money wasn't much, but the New Year's greetings written on the envelopes had barely dried—he had specially commissioned someone to write them before leaving the Merit Forest.

So, after handing the red envelopes to Xiao Mili, the Old Scholar smiled and reminded her, "Xiao Mili, don't lose these envelopes. They're worth a bit of money, but more importantly, they're rare and hard to come by. If you ever need cash in the future, go to the Guanhu Academy or the Shen'gao Sect on your Bottle Gourd Continent, find a knowledgeable buyer, and don't sell for less than two Grain Rain Coins."

Cui Dongshan lightly shook the red envelope in his hand, making a rustling sound. It contained two Snowflake Coins, not Minor Heat Coins or Grain Rain Coins. The Old Scholar promptly slapped him on the head.

Xiao Mili held the red envelope in both hands, bowed, and shouted in a crisp voice, "Happy New Year, Literary Sage! Thank you, Literary Sage! May you have boundless blessings and longevity, grow younger with each year, and be happy every day!"

The Old Scholar stroked his beard and laughed. "Good, good."

Even Chen Ping'an received a red envelope. He smiled and said, "Master, I'm already this old. I'll pass."

The Old Scholar shook his head. "In my eyes, you are all children. Take it. Hurry up and take it."

Chen Ping'an had no choice but to accept the red envelope. He looked at the calligraphy on it—it was all from the same hand, but the greetings on each envelope were slightly different. For instance, Cui Dongshan's envelope read "Great Fortune in the New Year," while Chen Ping'an's read "Peace for the Whole Family." Since it couldn't be the calligraphy of the Ritual Sage or the classicist Xi Ping, it could only be that of the Supreme Sage himself, right?

The Old Scholar took a sip of wine. Time was always the most unreasonable thing, like a thief who had never lost a fight and never failed to steal. Chen Ping'an had grown up, now past forty. Little Baoping and Pei Qian had also grown up. So now, among the lineage of the Literary Sage, only Zheng Youqian, the disciple of Jun Qian, could still be considered a proper child.

Thus, the Old Scholar turned to Zheng Youqian and said cheerfully, "Youqian, while your Junior Granduncle is still young—very young—don't rush to grow up. When you're young and out in the world, you don't need to be too sensible. As long as you're in the right, don't be afraid. If you can argue, argue. If you can fight, fight. If you can't fight, don't panic and run. Just mention your Junior Granduncle's name and ask if they're not afraid."

Chen Ping'an laughed. "And if mentioning your Junior Granduncle's name doesn't work, then quickly mention the Ancestral Master's name."

The Old Scholar laughed heartily. "If you mention my name, be careful—you might get beaten twice."

Zheng Youqian whispered, "My master says I have a bad temper and tells me not to fight with people."

In fact, before Liu Shiliu left the Haoran World, he had indeed mentioned to Zheng Youqian that if he was ever bullied, he shouldn't bother the Ancestral Master, but should go find his Junior Granduncle instead.

The Old Scholar complained, "Nonsense. When I see Jun Qian later, I'll have to give him a piece of my mind. How is Youqian's temper bad? He's polite, well-mannered, and very cultured."

Chen Ping'an smiled faintly. "Brother Jun Qian wasn't wrong. Which of the direct and indirect disciples of the Literary Sage lineage has a good temper? Hmm, maybe Baoping and Qinglang are a bit better."

Li Baoping squinted and smiled. "So-so, so-so."

Cao Qinglang smiled but said nothing.

The Old Scholar raised his cup and took a sip. "Yes, yes."

Cui Dongshan grinned. He thought to himself that the only one who dared to talk back to the Old Scholar and expose his faults, and whom the Old Scholar didn't mind, was indeed his master.

The Old Scholar asked, "Ping'an, are you confident about re-entering the Upper Five Realms soon?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "I am confident."

The Old Scholar felt relieved. "Then I can approve the distribution of a landscape gazette. It'll help clarify things for you: after the sword challenge at Tuoyue Mountain, you suffered a significant drop in realm and need to go into seclusion for many years."

Nowadays, the Confucian Temple in the Central Lands had the strictest controls over sect gazettes in thousands of years. According to the decisions made at the last Confucian Temple assembly, not only were reports on the progress of the war in the Wildlands forbidden, but even discussions about the war itself were not allowed by any mountain or immortal mansion. Additionally, the movements of any high-level cultivators in the Haoran world could not be casually mentioned in gazettes. The few exceptions were the execution of Nan Guangzhao by the Punishment Official Hao Su, the private announcement by the Shanhai Sect that several sword immortals from the Sword Qi Wall had jointly challenged the Wildlands, and Chen Ping'an's solo sword opening of Tuoyue Mountain and his latest engraving on the city wall. This was still due to the Shanhai Sect's breach of rules and acting on its own. If not for the Literary Sage's intercession afterward, and the fact that the famous young Hidden Officer was the Old Scholar's final disciple, the Confucian Temple would have imposed a much heavier penalty. As it was, they fined the Shanhai Sect a sum of immortal money, confiscated all income from that gazette, and recorded a single demerit. Otherwise, the writer of that gazette would now be studying the sages' books in the Merit Forest.

"Earlier, I heard that the master had engraved words on the city wall, and I thought there was no hope," Cui Dongshan said with a click of his tongue. "But when this gazette comes out, and people hear that the master is only at the Nascent Soul realm now, they'll immediately think it's still possible."

As for why the Old Scholar was going to this extra trouble, it wasn't hard to understand—it was to reduce criticism.

Since he was the final Hidden Officer of the Sword Qi Wall, why hadn't he gone to the Wildlands?

He had gone.

But new doubts would definitely arise.

If he could engrave on the city wall, why not go to the Wildlands again?

So this gazette was the explanation.

Cui Dongshan said, "Make sure to mention in that gazette that our Qingping Sword Sect's Chief Mi has already broken through."

The Old Scholar asked in confusion, "Has Sword Immortal Mi finally broken through?"

Cui Dongshan said impatiently, "He just broke through."

The Old Scholar slapped his knee and laughed loudly. "That's great!"

For a sword sect, having an Immortal realm sword cultivator as a gold-lettered signboard meant no more worries about attracting trouble. It was others who should be worried.

Moreover, this great sword immortal was Mi Yu. People knew his name and his reputation. The nickname "Mi Lan Yao" (Mi Waist-Cutter) that he had earned during his Earth Immortal realm battles still carried significant weight in the Haoran world.

The Old Scholar said, "Just now, Han Fuzi initiated and I only made a minor suggestion—the Confucian Temple urgently convened a small-scale mountain god meeting. The five sacred mountain lords of the Central Lands, including Juxu Mountain and Jiuyi Mountain, all attended, along with several dozen great nation mountain lords. They gathered together. Of course, they used a method similar to how Wealth God Liu and Fatty Yu observed the Immortal Capital Mountain today. The conversation was lively. Especially Zhou You and Huai Lian, they came with interest and left with interest. Judging by their expressions, they seemed a bit unsatisfied."

The Ritual Sage still rarely appeared.

The Lesser Sage had gone to the Wildlands to oversee the Confucian Temple's affairs there.

Now, the actual manager of the Confucian Temple in the Central Lands was the Literary Sage. Of the three heads of the Confucian Temple, only one remained: Han Fuzi, who assisted the Literary Sage.

Thus, the Old Scholar was teased as the "housekeeper" by an old scholar surnamed Li.

These days, the Old Scholar was genuinely busy at the Confucian Temple, working day and night without rest.

This time, the Confucian Temple convened the mountain god meeting because the water gods had already undertaken that escort mission. The mountain gods couldn't just sit idly by, could they? It wouldn't sound good. They needed to do something, at least to save face. They had to plug the mouths of the world, so people wouldn't silently complain that the mountain gods were just enjoying idle pleasures. However, apart from the five sacred mountain lords of the Central Lands, many high-ranking mountain gods from various countries clearly noticed that the Old Scholar seemed to be deliberately targeting Huai Lian and a few others. Even the most even-tempered female mountain lord of Yanzhi Mountain, whose divine title was "Bitter Herb," Zhu Yuxian, was provoked to anger. She slapped the armrest of her chair and directly rebutted the Literary Sage. Zhu Yuxian even declared that within this Confucian Temple, she would stick to the matter at hand and wouldn't tolerate any more veiled sarcasm. If the Literary Sage continued to be so passive-aggressive, she would leave immediately. She also asked Han Fuzi to rest assured: Yanzhi Mountain would not shirk its duties. Whatever needed to be done, the Confucian Temple could provide a list, and she would fulfill each task without fail. But today, she refused to endure this anger any longer in the Confucian Temple. Seeing Zhu Yuxian speak so harshly, Zhou You of Sui Mountain stood up, intending to be the first to leave. The Old Scholar quickly stood behind Zhou You, placed his hands on the Sui Mountain lord's shoulders, and said, "Why are you getting angry?" But at that moment, the Old Scholar's eyes glanced at the Gui Mountain lord, whose divine title was "Heavenly Sinew." The latter had just lifted his rear end but had to sit back down.

Chen Ping'an said softly, "Actually, my suspicion is that the cold shoulders I received at those mountain peaks were due to prior indirect instructions from the Supreme Sage—they deliberately prevented me from climbing. It had little to do with the four mountain lords."

The Old Scholar said with a face full of guilt, "Oh? There's such a twist? Then I've misunderstood Huai Lian and the others. It's fine. I have no other skills, but I'm least afraid of misunderstandings. Next time we meet, I'll speak frankly. If they still have grievances, I'll take the initiative to apologize."

In fact, after that mountain god meeting at the Confucian Temple, the Old Scholar waited in the Merit Forest for Zhou You and the others to visit. Sure enough, the five lords came together. Zhu Yuxian was the first to apologize. Instead, the Old Scholar thanked her, because that statement of hers—"I will not shirk my duties and will fulfill every task"—was exactly what the Old Scholar, or rather, the Confucian Temple, wanted. With Zhu Yuxian taking the lead, the other mountain lords understood the situation. As for the "quarreling" during the meeting, it was like a few dishes of appetizers with wine. To be honest, those mountain lords of great dynasties might have wished to be sarcastically teased by the Literary Sage themselves, just like the five sacred mountain lords.

Take the debates among the Three Teachings. Before the Old Scholar appeared, the Buddhist disciples from the Western Buddha Kingdom—those Tripitaka masters who not only mastered the sutras, laws, and treatises but were also extremely familiar with the teachings of the other two religions—had always dominated the Confucian Temple and the Daoist White Jade Capital. Even if the Confucian Temple and White Jade Capital occasionally won, they never achieved a "consecutive victory." The Confucian school, in particular, lost the most. Hence, the Old Scholar's sudden rise, winning two consecutive debates, caused many of the revered figures from the Buddhist and Daoist traditions, who were hailed as "Buddha Sons" and "Dao Seeds," to directly switch allegiance to the Confucian school. This was once regarded as an unprecedented feat—a "cracking of the heavens."

The old scholar surnamed Li, who was temporarily serving at the Confucian Temple, once made a well-known fair comment: "If the Old Scholar doesn't make sarcastic jokes with you, is he supposed to seriously quarrel with you?"

The Old Scholar, probably worried that his final disciple might overthink things and think he was causing trouble, explained with a smile, "Zhou You is actually as clear as a mirror. He and I share the same spirit. We're like long-lost brothers reunited. He falls out with anyone, but not with me. As for Huai Lian and the others, they already had a good impression of you. As for the 'Heavenly Sinew' Daoist friend of Gui Mountain, he had a bit of a grudge with our Literary Sage lineage—old scores that are hard to settle. Heavenly Sinew mainly felt that his pride was hurt. This time, when you visited Gui Mountain, he indeed received secret instructions from the Confucian Temple and didn't dare show himself. He also couldn't explain anything to you, so he had to send the temple priest to the foot of the mountain to harden his heart and speak tough words to you. Moreover, seeing you extremely polite—neither causing trouble nor cursing—actually made him feel much better. I deliberately had some friends spread a few words on behalf of the Gui Mountain, saying that Gui Mountain had such great airs, truly worthy of the name 'Heavenly Sinew, Earthly Bone, Mountain Spine,' that they even refused to receive a guest and didn't even show their face, directly sending the Hidden Officer back... So within the Confucian Temple, Gui Mountain gained much face. Whenever young people mention Gui Mountain in their spare time, they give a thumbs-up and sincerely praise our 'Heavenly Sinew' Daoist friend as a 'vigorous old hero.' Since both face and steps were provided, after the meeting in the Merit Forest, our Heavenly Sinew Daoist friend asked me to convey a message: welcome the Hidden Officer to visit Gui Mountain. Anyway, the wine at Gui Mountain is excellent. I agreed on your behalf. As for whether you actually go, that's entirely up to you."

Chen Ping'an couldn't help but laugh. "It's really hard on Mr. Xi Ping and the old scholar surnamed Li to have to be your messengers."

Cui Dongshan muttered, "So he was secretly showing off his connections here."

Li Baoping gave the big white goose a thumbs-up and praised, "Senior Brother Cui's head is still sturdy."

Cui Dongshan smiled awkwardly. "Nn, nn."

Xiao Mili scratched her face. What is the big white goose doing imitating me?

Chen Ping'an took a small wooden box from his sleeve and handed it to Cao Qinglang, smiling. "Inside is a very good ancient sword embryo, named 'Mud Ball.' Try to see if you can refine it. Consider it my gift for your Golden Core formation."

The carvings on the wooden box were exquisite: depictions of divine officials riding flood dragons, female immortals riding phoenixes, and ancient true men riding tortoises and qilins—many auspicious images.

Cao Qinglang hesitated for a moment, then stood up, took the box with both hands, and formally bowed to his master in thanks.

Pei Qian rolled her eyes. The most particular about formalities was this block of wood, Cao.

Chen Ping'an looked at his master, then said to Cao Qinglang, "Back then, my master's master also retrieved a high-grade sword embryo from Sui Mountain. Unfortunately, my talent was mediocre, and I never truly refined that sword embryo into a life-bound object. It was only a 'moderate refinement.'"

The Old Scholar stroked his beard and smiled. This was what they called the transmission of the lineage, the passing of the torch.

Chen Ping'an continued, "This sword embryo was once the treasured heirloom of the Ziyang Mansion. It was originally given by the then-head of the Dafu Academy to his eldest legitimate daughter, Wu Yi, as a gift for her entry into the Middle Five Realms. Wu Yi is the founding ancestor of the Ziyang Mansion in the Huangting Kingdom. Over the years, Wu Yi never fully opened all the prohibitions on this sword case. She probably intended to give it as a gift to a promising sword immortal seedling she might take as a disciple in the future."

"I got it as a bargain, a real steal. So I must give away the sword embryo quickly, so that if I ever see Wu Yi again and she regrets it, I can say it's already been given away. Even if she asks for it back, I can compensate with money, but the object itself won't be returned. Such things, once missed, are gone."

"Qinglang, why not open it? When I first got it, a series of purple-gold characters appeared. The meaning was profound: 'Facing the wall for a thousand years, unknown to all; the Three Pure Ones only need a clay body.' But once opened, the characters melted like snow. This kind of phenomenon is rare. According to Wu Yi, the sword embryo has a great origin—it comes from the Western Sacred Mountain of the ancient Central Lands, meticulously forged by an enlightened true man. It was originally meant to be a town treasure for a branch of that sacred mountain. How it ended up outside and how it was obtained by Head Elder Cheng is probably another messy story."

Cao Qinglang nodded. "I've read in books that the ancient Western Sacred Mountain governed the casting and smelting of metals and also supervised all feathered birds. So its main duty was somewhat like the Ministry of Works in later dynasties."

Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded. Cao Qinglang's words were almost exactly what he himself had said to Wu Yi back then. Master and disciple both read widely, especially miscellaneous books.

Once Cao Qinglang took over as sect leader in the future, if he wasn't a sword cultivator, there was no need to doubt whether he could command respect. From Luopo Mountain to Immortal Capital Mountain, these places weren't particularly particular about realms or status. But for Cao Qinglang, as the second sect leader of the Qingping Sword Sect, not being a sword cultivator would ultimately be a regret. Especially since Cao Qinglang had always been thoughtful; he would probably even start drinking by then.

From the moment Chen Ping'an insisted on bringing Zhou Mili, whom he had taken from Yaba Lake, back to Luopo Mountain, not only did he include her in the ancestral hall's mountain genealogy of Jise Peak, but he also directly promoted her to the right protector of Luopo Mountain, a mountain guardian in the genealogy.

From that moment on, everyone understood.

The young mountain lord respected everyone's wishes; everything could be discussed.

But anything that Chen Ping'an considered truly important for Luopo Mountain left no room for discussion, argument, or muddling.

Cao Qinglang opened the sword case, and instantly the room was filled with a dense sword aura. Chen Ping'an was about to intervene but immediately stopped, because the originally "lifeless" sword embryo suddenly transformed into a miniature flying sword shape, then arced through the air, stabbing Cao Qinglang's hand holding the case in an instant. Even though Cao Qinglang was a Golden Core cultivator, he couldn't avoid this sudden "sword challenge." Finally, a drop of blood coalesced at the tip of the sword, then disappeared. The sword embryo, like a thirsty person drinking sweet spring, hovered in the air. The tip trembled slightly, buzzing like a child cheering happily.

This was, in the cultivation world, a kind of voluntary "recognition of master" by a spiritual object—a rare immortal opportunity.

Simply put, Cao Qinglang had done nothing and had already achieved "moderate refinement" of this Mud Ball sword embryo. It was a meeting of minds. As for when he would achieve great refinement, it was merely a matter of time and effort, with no insurmountable obstacles.

Afterward, the Mud Ball flying sword hovered around its master, Cao Qinglang, like a bird circling a branch.

Then everyone turned to look at Chen Ping'an.

Even Xiao Mili was no exception. Could it be that the good mountain lord really had "mediocre talent"?

Cui Dongshan deliberately let out a wine burp to help his master break the awkward atmosphere.

The Old Scholar couldn't help but laugh, raised his cup, and said, "Drink, drink."

Chen Ping'an drank the wine, composed as ever, and said with a smile, "Qinglang, I'm not particularly familiar with Huai Lian, the mountain lord of Juxu Mountain. But there is a 'Green Ox Daoist' enfeoffed lord there, who has returned to his old haunt. I met this old senior on a night boat before, and we got along extremely well. Coincidentally, this old true man is one of the three long-resident true men of the ancient Western Sacred Mountain, and his seat is on one of the secondary mountains of Juxu Mountain, Niao Ju Mountain. When you travel to the Central Lands Divine Continent next time, you can go and humbly seek advice from the old senior about the true origin of this sword embryo."

Cao Qinglang smiled and nodded. "Good, I'll have to visit Juxu Mountain and Niao Ju Mountain."

Chen Ping'an suddenly asked, "Master, about that Dragon Slayer?"

The Old Scholar smiled. "Although this senior cultivator cannot be strictly considered a fourteen-realm pure sword cultivator, one must not underestimate this Dragon Slayer."

Cui Dongshan curled his lips. "Of course he's formidable. 'I have the skill to slay dragons; please watch my sword light.' Moreover, he is the master of Zheng Juzhong."

A person like Zheng Juzhong wouldn't hesitate to betray his master, but if outsiders dared to oppose his master, the example of the "sealed" Central Lands Tieshu Mountain was the best lesson.

The Old Scholar nodded. "Indeed, he is extremely powerful. Later generations of qi refiners can only roughly guess at his swordsmanship through some oral traditions. In fact, Chen Qingliu's dragon-slaying battle obscured a part—and the most crucial part—of the truth. About three thousand years ago, Chen Qingliu's appearance was itself an anomaly. Not only for dragons and serpents, but for the entire world... or rather, for the entire human world across multiple realms, all water-based creatures and water immortals faced an intangible suppression of the Dao. Back then, Chen Qingliu, alone with his sword, eradicated dragons. When he encountered any dragon palace or water mansion master, even if they were seated in their own small realms, they would still effectively drop one realm in front of him. There was no way around it. Some people and some things simply defy all logic."

"Furthermore, according to the Confucian Temple's classified files—and mind you, you should just listen and not leak this, as it carries serious consequences—besides his main sword, Chen Qingliu also possessed two life-bound flying swords. Just hearing their names will tell you how formidable they are. One is called 'Water Source,' and the other is called 'Fire Spirit.' With these, any qi refiner who practiced water methods, especially those who specialized in water techniques, would inevitably face a terrible fate when challenged by Chen Qingliu."

"Let me add a small story. The Haoran cultivator who blocked Yang Zhi from retreating back to the Wildlands through the Guixu was Liu Qi, who had returned from the Green Scripture World. Actually, the Confucian Temple had targeted arrangements for many Wildlands great demons. If Fei Fei hadn't escaped quickly, Chen Qingliu was already on his way to intercept him. If Chen Qingliu had found her trail, Fei Fei's fate would have been no better than Yang Zhi's."

Chen Ping'an seemed to want to say something but held back.

He wanted to ask why Chen Qingliu felt compelled to slay the dragons—the reason, the original intention.

The Old Scholar hesitated for a moment, then drank a cup of wine and used a very subtle explanation that seemed off-topic: "This is also one of the reasons why Zou Zi alone 'worried about the heavens.' Can you understand it this way?"

Sword cultivators act for their own reasons.

They have great freedom, completely unrestrained.

But what about the people of the world after such a pure sword cultivator has freely wielded his sword?

Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded.

The Old Scholar smiled in relief. "A true man distinguishes between kindness and grievance. There's no need to be too constrained because of this. Going to the other extreme would be unwise."

A person who carries many people in his heart tends to be soft-hearted and sees the world with too gentle eyes.

"All swordsmanship in the world, traced back to its origins, only consists of a few fundamental threads."

The Old Scholar followed the topic. "This is similar to how there are only five notes—gong, shang, jue, zhi, yu—yet their variations are infinite and inexhaustible. Swordsmanship is the same."

Having said this, the Old Scholar turned to look at Cui Dongshan.

Cui Dongshan looked bewildered, shook the wine jar, and said, "What? There's still wine."

The Old Scholar reached out and twisted the white-robed youth's ear. "Still pretending to be dumb, huh? Out of control!"

Cui Dongshan tilted his neck, complaining endlessly, "Ouch, ouch, ouch! What's going on? Can you give me a straight answer?"

The Old Scholar said, "Back then, at the bottom of that well, when you took two sword strikes from your master, did you eat them?"

Cui Dongshan tilted his head, his face full of despair. He sniffed, wiped his face with his sleeve, and looked extremely aggrieved.

Chen Ping'an was completely confused at first, but after hearing his master's words, he immediately understood.

Perhaps those three strands of sword qi that had lingered in his qi treasury were, in a sense, three threads of... ancient swordsmanship—at least important branches of the three main veins.

As a result, two of those strands of sword qi had been "given as a reward" to Cui Dongshan, who had been hiding at the bottom of the well and refusing to emerge.

Master and disciple—truly deep in affection from the very beginning.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Master, let Dongshan handle the disposition of those two strands of sword qi as he sees fit. Consider them my gift to the Qingping Sword Sect."

The Old Scholar let go of his hand and nodded. "It's just that I can't stand him getting a bargain and still acting smug, as if everyone else is a fool."

Cui Dongshan rubbed his ear, indignant. "I have long-term plans for them! I'm not going to use them for personal gain."

The Old Scholar bent two fingers and gave Cui Dongshan a heavy knock on the head, admonishing sternly, "A person's intellectual abundance creates a huge trap. The sense of superiority in calculation and intelligence, that habitual condescending view of everyone—sooner or later, it will cause problems. Big problems!"

Cui Dongshan swayed his body, starting to throw a tantrum, wailing, "Why do you only scold me? Why only bully me? What about Baoping? What about the senior sister? What about Cao Qinglang..."

Chen Ping'an coughed.

Cui Dongshan immediately sat up straight and said seriously, "The Ancestral Master's lesson is well taken. I'll write it down word for word when I get back."

Xiao Mili turned to look at the desk and asked softly, "Sect Leader Cui, should I help you get a brush and paper?"

Even Xiao Mili, who was closest to him, was siding with others. Cui Dongshan was first stunned into silence, then started wailing again.

Xiao Mili quickly handed him a handful of melon seeds, and Cui Dongshan finally beamed.

Chen Ping'an ignored him and changed the subject, smiling. "Earlier, when I met Zhao Yao in the Great Li capital, our Vice Minister had an idea. He wants to reassemble the immortal sword 'Tai Bai,' which was split into four parts, and reunite them. He's thinking that when he meets Mr. Bai again, he can return it to its original owner."

The Old Scholar nodded. "Very thoughtful. The idea is good, but it's too difficult—far too difficult."

Cui Dongshan fumed, "Vice Minister Zhao has grown bold! Doesn't he know that the master holds one of the four parts? From now on, don't expect me to call him Senior Brother Zhao!"

One of the four immortal swords, Tai Bai, still had its scabbard intact, but the blade had been split into four parts, each recognizing its owner: Chen Ping'an, Zhao Yao, Fei Ran, and Liu Cai.

Moreover, because Zhao Yao had studied for many years with a scholar on that isolated overseas island, he could, in a sense, be considered half a student of Bai Ye.

To reassemble the immortal sword Tai Bai meant Zhao Yao would have to challenge the other three with his sword, and all three challenges must be successful.

So earlier, in the Great Li capital, there had been a conversation about this immortal sword.

Zhao Yao spoke first, but directly addressed Chen Ping'an by name.

Chen Ping'an immediately reminded him, "That's not proper. You should call me Little Granduncle."

Then it became awkward.

Since both sides were discussing serious matters, Chen Ping'an smiled and said, "If you win the sword challenge against your Little Granduncle, you can take my Night Roam sword."

But Chen Ping'an added, "Of course, fist fighting is also acceptable."

This junior grandnephew was very sly. He smiled and asked, "What about scholarship?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Scholarship? You still have far to go."

Zhao Yao smiled but said nothing, as if the words "I don't think so" were written all over his face.

Chen Ping'an said, "Teacher Qi once said that principles are in books, but being a person is outside of books."

Zhao Yao thought for a moment, then nodded. "In that case, I am indeed far behind my Little Granduncle."

Li Baoping asked in confusion, "Is Zhao Yao a sword cultivator?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "No, at least not yet. He probably wants to follow the same path as Mr. Bai."

Li Baoping said, "Zhao Yao is stubborn, but he's still very clever."

Because they were from the same hometown and had studied together, she knew him inside out.

But for the children in that old village school back then, that red-clothed little girl who always came last and left first—whenever they thought of her, they probably had some psychological shadow.

The key was that she always came and went alone. On the way to and from school, carrying her little satchel, she would hop and skip, shouting and yelling. If someone asked, she would say she was practicing martial arts and fist techniques.

Li Huai didn't need to be mentioned. Even Zhao Yao, who was also from Fulu Street, had once, when he first started school, accidentally bullied a little girl with pigtails. Li Baoping chased him all the way home with a tree branch. When the Zhao family elder asked her why she hit him, the little girl in the red cotton jacket replied, "Talking nicely didn't work. He wouldn't admit fault, and he was unconvinced even when he said he was convinced. He can't fool me." Since they were neighbors and it was a squabble among children, the Zhao elder couldn't say much. He didn't dare tell Zhao Yao to fight back—he really couldn't beat that little girl who had been climbing walls since she was young. Then the next day, when Zhao Yao came home from school, the child looked pitiful, covered in footprints. It turned out that on the way home, even though Zhao Yao had deliberately taken a roundabout route, he was still caught by the red-clothed little girl, who had been lying in wait. She jumped up and kicked him wildly. "You like to tattle, huh? I won't use my hands. I'll just use my feet." In fact, to ensure she only used her feet, the little girl crashed into the wall several times and even sprained her ankle. But she insisted on "accompanying Zhao Yao home." The next day, as soon as Zhao Yao stepped out, he found Li Baoping squatting outside, blocking his way. The child was scared and wronged, and suddenly burst into tears. He squatted on the ground, holding his head, wailing. The limping little girl walked up to him and asked if he admitted his mistake. Zhao Yao, with tears and snot all over his face, still refused to admit fault but started rolling on the ground. "Useless. If you can't win, you call for backup." The red-clothed little girl turned and walked away. After taking a dozen steps with one shoulder higher than the other, she suddenly stopped, turned to look at the peer who was sitting on the ground, having stopped crying, and signaled with her eyes: Wait. Let's settle this near the school.

If even Zhao Yao was like this, Lin Shouyi and Dong Shuijing and the others were even worse. Thinking about it would probably bring tears to their eyes.

So back then, in the old village school, it was often while the teacher was lecturing that the little girl in the red cotton jacket would first have her palm slapped, then be made to stand at the back of the classroom or outside the window. She would secretly stand on one leg, arms crossed, stewing in silence.

The Old Scholar had drunk nearly half a jar of wine and was already flushed. He stood up and laughed, "I have to go. There's a lot of work waiting."

Cui Dongshan, for once, didn't argue. It wasn't that the Old Scholar was being pretentious—he was genuinely busy. Shouldering the affairs of the world was no joke.

Of course, he could steal a moment of leisure, but some decisions from the Confucian Temple, even if delayed by just a moment, could result in a vast difference in the final outcome in the Wildlands.

Everyone in the room stood up and followed the Old Scholar outside. He intended to step over the threshold and use his land-shrinking technique to return directly to the Merit Forest. But as he walked, he ended up at the gate of the residence, and then he walked all the way to a pavilion on the edge of a cliff on Mise Peak. The Old Scholar finally stopped. He looked up at the plaque, but instead of climbing the steps into the Cloud-Grasping Pavilion with its wide view, he looked at Chen Ping'an and the others and smiled. "Don't see me off. Go back."

Year after year, the old man aged, but youth could never be regained.

The Old Scholar looked at them, both proud and pleased, yet inevitably a little sad. He wanted his juniors to grow up following the principles in books, but he also didn't want them to grow up too quickly. This contradictory feeling could probably only be truly understood when one became a father or a teacher. The Old Scholar suppressed all the words he wanted to say and simply smiled. "When you have the chance, visit the Merit Forest at the Confucian Temple. If there are books you want to read, make a list in advance. No problem."

Chen Ping'an took the lead in bowing farewell.

The Old Scholar smiled and nodded, then returned to the Confucian Temple in a single step across continents.

Above, the bright moonlight; below, the hurried youths of the world, whose footsteps are the most hurried.