Chapter 966: Hotpot on the Table, Snow Beyond

Chapter 966: Hotpot on the Table, Snow Beyond

This time, crossing the sea back north, he had roughly calculated the southward travel speed of that visitor from Fallen Mountain, so there was no particular rush to hurry. Chen Ping'an practiced that sword technique teleportation along the way, his form transforming into a dozen or so sword lights time and again, gliding over the blue waves with a movement method that nearly ignored the river of time, roaming leisurely through the world. To be precise, all the sword lights could follow certain subtle currents within the river of time, like "walking on water," moving through heaven and earth like a person without boundaries entering an uninhabited realm.

After countless repetitions of study and practice, Chen Ping'an finally managed to display this teleportation technique with roughly the same level of proficiency as Ning Yao's first attempt. Perhaps this was what they meant by "the slow bird flies first" and "diligence compensates for lack of talent"?

Taking a brief rest on a sea island near the land of Bottle Gourd Continent, Chen Ping'an crouched on a tree branch, cupping his hands as he performed a water technique. Spring water gushed from his palms, and he scooped up a handful to wash his face.

Xiao Mo sat nearby, his green bamboo staff resting across his knees. "The gentleman has excellent aptitude," he said.

Chen Ping'an laughed in exasperation. "Spare me the flattery against your conscience. Buttering me up won't work."

Xiao Mo replied seriously, "In the world, when different sword cultivators perform the same sword technique, the manner varies in quality—that's common sense. The reason is simply that they are limited by their current realm. According to the senior who taught me sword techniques, one who can extract the most true essence of Dao from various techniques is a kind of hidden genius. Such cultivation is called 'breaking through barriers.'"

Chen Ping'an fell into thought, wiped the water from his face, and shook his hands. "Tell me more."

Xiao Mo continued, "Assessing a sword cultivator's aptitude cannot be based solely on how quickly they learn swordsmanship in the initial stage. That only distinguishes ordinary geniuses from mediocrities—still too shallow. For instance, when I perform this sword technique, it comes easily and naturally, but it brings no improvement to my own swordsmanship and does little for my personal microcosm. Not so with you, sir. This is another deeper meaning of the sword technique 'world.' Ultimately, the technique is dead, but the wielder is alive. To give an analogy: as I accompany you northward, using this technique is like drinking my own spiritual energy as wine—it's self-indulgence, adding no pure sword intent, merely consuming spiritual energy. When you perform it, however, you are drinking water from beyond heaven and earth, tempering your physique and increasing sword intent. A sword cultivator's staying power comes from this. You, sir, and that Zong Yuan from the Sword Qi Great Wall—you likely belong to this type of sword cultivator: full of resilience, accumulating slowly and bursting forth. As time passes, the further you go, the more your Dao path becomes flawless and your road broadens."

Chen Ping'an nodded with a smile. "This explanation is very refreshing."

It seemed that Xiao Mo and Old Immortal Jia, when it came to idle chatter, might seem to follow different paths, but they ultimately converged.

Xiao Mo was silent for a moment, then gently stroked his green bamboo staff and sighed. "Many so-called overt geniuses in cultivation, the faster they learn, the more they miss. They can compensate or cover it up with more sword techniques or divine abilities, but eventually, when standing outside the gate, each cultivator's personal microcosm has a fixed capacity for the Dao. When the bottleneck finally comes, it becomes as difficult as ascending to heaven. They will hit walls everywhere and suffer greatly."

"This is why Xiao Mo, along with Bai Jing, Yangzhi, and Zhu Yan—though we advanced smoothly into the Flying Ascension Realm—found it so hard to break through its bottleneck. We walked too fast in our climb, pursued visible and tangible realms too eagerly, and neglected the ethereal matter of absorbing Dao intent. We missed too many things we should have paid attention to. At our core, we didn't believe in it—or rather, we only believed in sword techniques and Dao methods, not in ourselves."

Both sides had their pros and cons. The advantage was that the Flying Ascension cultivators of the Barbarian Wilderness had the highest killing power across all worlds, as acknowledged. The disadvantage was that the number of demon cultivators reaching the fourteenth realm remained inferior to human cultivators in the other three worlds.

Chen Ping'an said, "That last statement carries significant meaning."

Xiao Mo replied, "Thus, whether we perform sword techniques or display immortal methods and divine powers now, it is all recollection and retrospection. But you and Zong Yuan are different. Every step you take is solid, looking upward to the path ahead while also looking back at the road traveled."

"Of course, compared to Bai Jing and me, Zhu Yan and Yangzhi's cultivation aptitude is a notch lower."

Chen Ping'an said, "I'll have Cui Dongshan pass on these cultivation insights of yours to Chai Wu, Sun Chunwang, and the others. I believe they will find them very useful."

Xiao Mo smiled slightly. "Earlier, on the Wind Kite Ferry, I already spoke to Chai Wu and the other children about this. It seems they have taken it to heart. But such abstract principles will likely need to be combined with their own cultivation obstacles and personal experiences, verified through facts and reasoning, before they can truly chew through and digest the rationale."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "No one is exempt."

As the old saying goes: "If you want to know the mountain road, ask those who have come down from the mountain."

Hell, as expected, only geniuses have common ground to talk with geniuses.

Chen Ping'an said casually with a smile, "You might soon reunite with your old friend Yangzhi. I made a big deal with her, and she has regained her freedom under the Confucian Temple's terms. She will participate in the excavation of the great river in Indus Leaf Continent."

Xiao Mo and Qing Tong could hardly be called old friends—they had merely exchanged distant glances. But Xiao Mo and Yangzhi were true old friends.

Xiao Mo turned his head to look at his gentleman, but could discern no expression or ripple in his Dao heart. He suppressed his doubts.

Chen Ping'an's mind stirred. He immediately pulled a talisman from his sleeve, and his face broke into a radiant smile. His entire aura transformed completely, as if he were a different person.

Xiao Mo felt relieved.

This large talisman in Chen Ping'an's hand—the talisman paper had been obtained from Wu Shuangjiang of the Night Boat. At the time, Wu Shuangjiang had given Cui Dongshan and Jiang Shangzhen four "Descending Truth Blue-Green Talismans," worth a fortune. They were specialized talismans used in the Haoran World by Daoist sects like the Divine Edict Sect to "invite the Jade Capital Palace Master to descend." Their rarity was self-evident. The method of drawing the talisman was something Cui Dongshan had derived from talisman studies—it was called "Manifest Talisman." Both parties needed to hold one talisman each. However, if the distance was too great, such as across continents, the text would become as faint as dry brush and light ink. Moreover, this "family letter" had a considerable lag in sending and receiving. The text displayed on the talisman was a unique "ghost scribble" created by Cui Dongshan. Only Chen Ping'an had seen that booklet, so even if the talisman fell into someone else's hands, it would look like "heavenly script."

Chen Ping'an put away the talisman, stood up, and said with a smile, "Xiao Mo, I need to return to Immortal Capital Mountain for a bit. I have to meet an elder. I'm in a hurry, so I'll use the Three Mountain Talisman. You can go back to Fallen Mountain and wait for me."

Earlier, when they left the Demon Suppression Tower together, Qing Tong had noticed something: Chen Ping'an used the Three Mountain Talisman to cross mountains and rivers without consuming his own yin virtue. It was indeed a Three Mountain Talisman from the *True Trace of the Dan Script*, but the person who drew it was the same as the auspicious words on the red envelope given by the old scholar. From his last return to Immortal Capital Mountain, Chen Ping'an had roughly estimated that if he didn't cross continents, he could use it eight times. If crossing continents, at most three times. And Xiao Mo had learned the Three Mountain Talisman but shouldn't use his three times too early. So Chen Ping'an planned to return to the Green Ping Sword Sect alone.

Xiao Mo hesitated. "Let me accompany you, sir?"

Chen Ping'an laughed. "It will only take about the time of three incense sticks. During that time, I'm choosing two familiar mountains—Peace Mountain and Pu Mountain. What could go wrong? Don't worry. Then I'll use the Three Mountain Talisman to return to Fallen Mountain. I'll probably arrive at Huaihuang County around the same time as you."

I'm not worried about myself; I'm worried about you, Xiao Mo!

Xiao Mo thought it over and nodded. "I'll stop here and climb high to keep watch near the two mountains in Indus Leaf Continent. If there's any unexpected trouble, you only need to release your flying sword. As soon as the sword light rises, I'll arrive immediately. After the time of three incense sticks, I'll continue on my way and hurry back to Fallen Mountain. You don't need to rush too much either, sir. With Mr. Zhu on the mountain, even if you return a bit later, it shouldn't be a problem."

Chen Ping'an nodded vigorously. "Definitely no problem."

Xiao Mo asked curiously, "Which senior is visiting the Green Ping Sword Sect that warrants such seriousness from you?"

Because whether it was the Fallen Mountain sect establishment ceremony last time or the founding of the Green Ping Sword Sect's branch sect this time, there were very few guests that Mountain Lord Chen Ping'an personally received. Even Grand Heavenly Master Liang Shuang of the Dragon Tiger Mountain, an old immortal, or martial arts grandmaster Ye Yunyun of Pu Mountain, who could dominate half a continent with her fists, Chen Ping'an hadn't shown particular warmth. The only exception might be General Yao Zhen of the Great Spring Kingdom, who had previously received a special visit from Chen Ping'an leaving Immortal Capital Mountain to the Great Spring ferry sailing north.

As for Liu Jinglong, Zhong Kui, and Zhang Shanfeng—they had such close ties with Chen Ping'an that they were considered peers, so none of them minded such formalities.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "It's that Senior Song from the Jingling Mountain shrine in Bottle Gourd Continent."

Xiao Mo suddenly understood. No wonder the gentleman was making such a big deal, even willing to consume two uses of the Three Mountain Talisman.

Through the ear-reporting spirit Xiaomili, Xiao Mo knew that during the gentleman's first journey to the Sword Qi Great Wall, he had befriended a senior of the jianghu who loved eating hotpot and consulted almanacs before traveling.

On the talisman, Cui Dongshan's letter was simple in content: Song Yushao of the Comb Water Kingdom visited the Green Ping Sword Sect. Hearing that his teacher was not on the mountain, he came and left without revealing his identity.

Immortals on the mountains could achieve longevity and immortality, maintain their youthful appearance, or even revert to childhood at the Immortal Realm, choosing a face matching a certain "age."

But the aging of old friends from the jianghu was irreversible. When young people descended the mountain again and traveled the jianghu, some elders might no longer be there.

Originally, Chen Ping'an planned that after returning to Bottle Gourd Continent this time, besides hosting Bai Jing, he would visit three places: Jingling Mountain, Xianyou County, and the Logging Institute in Yuzhang Commandery, Hongzhou.

These three places definitely needed to be visited. And for the long journeys, except for the Logging Institute, he intended to stay longer at the other two, not rushing about so hurriedly.

Chen Ping'an held the Three Mountain Talisman and appeared directly at the mountain gate of Peace Mountain.

At the peak, near the former Patriarch Hall, a brilliant sword light blazed, its sword energy piercing the sky.

This was Huang Ting's style—announcing to all the mountain immortal mansions in the northern part of the continent that anyone who dared to covet Peace Mountain would face her challenge.

Following the rules, Chen Ping'an lit three sticks of incense at the mountain foot to pay respects to the never-met Master Three Mountain Nine Marquises.

Earlier, at the Demon Suppression Tower, Qing Tong had leaked some heavenly secrets. In ancient times, among the "Ten Heroes of the World," there were only four alternates, including Master Three Mountain Nine Marquises, the originator of talismans in the world.

Chen Ping'an looked up at the sky. An ancient sword hung in midair, its sword energy like a slender white waterfall cascading down onto the peak of Peace Mountain, condensing without dispersing.

If Huang Ting had to use her natal flying sword to create such a spectacle, it would drain her concentration and couldn't last long.

This object seemed to be a relic sword left by an ancient sword immortal that Huang Ting had brought back from the Five Colors World. According to Huang Ting, she had just picked it up randomly from some nameless landscape secret realm.

It was a case of a divine weapon recognizing its master on its own. Huang Ting had only been there to join the fun, but this ancient sword of immortal-grade rank actively gravitated toward her, and she couldn't refuse it.

This was completely different from Chen Ping'an's experience back in the North Juzhou Prefecture immortal ruin, where he had to carry a huge "caisson" and "leave his homeland." No wonder Jiang Shangzhen's incredible luck and Huang Ting's deep blessings were considered the two marvels of Indus Leaf Continent.

Moreover, the disciple Huang Ting had taken in the Five Colors World was also her first disciple, and that little girl was the first "native-born" person in the newly created world.

Huang Ting's unintentional act was something that Cui Dongshan and certain schemers from the Yin-Yang school had sought in vain.

At Peace Mountain, only the mountain lord Huang Ting and two offerings—Yu Fushan and the Daoist named "Dragon Gate" Guo Ran—were present.

Even Tan Yingzhou had left his master and chosen to travel with Zheng Youqian on the Tongyin Ferry, following Ye Yunyun and the others to Pu Mountain.

Chen Ping'an walked to the peak and found a newly built immortal residence made entirely of white jade—a two-courtyard compound, likely the work of Immortal Guo Ran.

Yu Fushan sat on the steps at the entrance. Seeing the blue-robed figure, he just smiled and clasped his fists. Chen Ping'an returned the gesture and stepped through the threshold. Inside, Huang Ting and Guo Ran were busy. On an antique desk were numerous archives, scrolls, and copies of the mountain's water and land records that Huang Ting had taken from a dimensional artifact. Back then, Huang Ting had been forced to leave Indus Leaf Continent for the Five Colors World by the old Heavenly Lord and the previous Peace Mountain lord. Now that she had returned home, she needed to re-clarify Peace Mountain's territory. Some subsidiary mountains with old land deeds had either become independent, renegotiating deeds with the restored local court, or had fallen into other hands, with new sects establishing their Patriarch Halls. Huang Ting would have to contact them one by one.

Chen Ping'an stood by the door. Huang Ting looked up and said in exasperation, "I'm the chief guest elder of the Green Ping Sword Sect, and you're soon to be a nominal offering here. You're not an outsider, so why be so reserved?"

Chen Ping'an then pulled over a chair and sat beside Immortal Guo Ran. They hit it off, so no polite pleasantries were needed—just nods.

Huang Ting leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. "Without Guo Ran's help, I'd be groping in the dark. Heaven knows when I'd truly re-establish the Patriarch Hall. That mountain protection offering at the door is just eating free meals."

Yu Fushan didn't mind, laughing heartily. "Have the will but lack the power. My apologies."

Huang Ting was so beautiful, every smile and frown full of charm—whatever she said was right.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "More work for the capable. With Senior Dragon Gate stationed here strategizing, Peace Mountain's incense will be restored soon."

Huang Ting grinned at the young patriarch of the branch sect—also a nominal offering. Lord Chen, don't you need to show some support?

Chen Ping'an took the hint. "I've already written a booklet, but many details need Cui Dongshan's additions. It should arrive here in a few days."

Huang Ting nodded. Only when faced with the task did she realize her worry. Thousands of threads needed her personal attention. She now understood how difficult it was to be a competent mountain lord.

Chen Ping'an picked up a ledger, flipping through it casually, and said, "Huang Ting, I'll repeat my earlier offer. If you need immortal money, Fallen Mountain's treasury has quite a bit of ready Rain Grain Coins. I can lend you some, with interest. Not for free."

According to Jiang Shangzhen's estimate, for Peace Mountain to restore even thirty percent of its former peak glory—just filling the spiritual energy void in a thousand miles of mountains and rivers—would require around three to four thousand Rain Grain Coins. Fallen Mountain's treasury could bring out about fifteen hundred without much trouble, enough to help Peace Mountain through its immediate crisis.

Huang Ting shook her head, pointing to the dimensional artifact on the table. "Forget borrowing. Money is easy to repay; favors are hard. There are some heavenly treasures in this artifact. Take a look first. I scavenged them from various places in the Five Colors World. All sorts of odds and ends. I'm not good at appraising treasures—I only took them if they caught my eye. If I'd known I'd return to the Haoran World so soon, I would have taken more. Looking back, I wasted exploring two ancient secret realms entirely through my own fault. When you go down the mountain, just take the artifact with you and help sell them. Right now, the Indus Leaf, Bottle Gourd, and Fuyao continents all lack such goods—they're hot commodities. You, Lord Chen, are famously well-connected among mountain circles. For the proceeds, ninety percent for me, ten percent for you. How about that? If we're talking business, the split is negotiable—say twenty percent? Anyway, I don't care how you fleece buyers or find the fat targets. The higher the price, the bigger your cut."

Chen Ping'an wasn't one to be modest. He tucked the dimensional artifact into his sleeve. "It's settled, then. Ten percent for me. Rest assured, I'll help get a high price. After it's done, I'll return the artifact, and we'll split ninety-ten."

Yu Fushan teased, "Is Chief Impartial Chen planning to fleece acquaintances?"

Chen Ping'an stood, shook his sleeves, and moved the chair back to its place, smiling. "I'm quite familiar with Fellow Daoist Fushan."

Yu Fushan immediately shut his mouth.

Chen Ping'an clasped his fists in farewell. Guo Ran suddenly stood up. "I'd like to have a few words with Mr. Chen."

Huang Ting, alone at the table, sighed at the scrolls and archives. She desperately needed to find a suitable candidate for mountain lord soon. She really wasn't cut out for this business.

Chen Ping'an pulled Yu Fushan along for a stroll.

He said, "Fellow Daoist Fushan, regarding the digging of the great river in central Indus Leaf Continent, you may need to take time from your busy schedule to help divert the tributaries. As compensation, when you later walk the river as a flood dragon via the new great river, it will be legitimate without any objections."

Though Yu Fushan wasn't adept at mundane affairs, he understood social nuances. "Am I busy or not? Can't you see, Lord Impartial? Peace Mountain is one of the initiators of the great river digging. By emotion and reason, I won't shirk my duty. When I later walk the river and transform into a flood dragon, this immense bond of incense fire—please calculate a price. So many immortal coins, that many. Don't stand on ceremony with me. On such matters, Huang Ting and I share a temper: it's fine to owe money, but not favors. Let me be clear upfront: I have little wealth now. I'll repay as much as I can. The rest, please advance for me, and I'll make it up later. This counts as my personal debt to your Green Ping Sword Sect, not to Peace Mountain."

Chen Ping'an smiled and nodded. "Going out to help dig the great river, Fellow Daoist Fushan is working off your debt. I'll settle the accounts clearly. Plus, you'll get familiar with the main river route's landscape—two birds with one stone."

Yu Fushan asked, "Was this part of your plan all along, Lord Impartial?"

Chen Ping'an complained, "Don't call it scheming. Makes me sound malicious, and you'd seem like a victim of price gouging."

Yu Fushan used a lose-lose tactic: "If I had any brains, would I have spent years hiding in a little place, guarding a shop waiting to die? It's no surprise to be fleeced by a scheming Chief Impartial."

He didn't give Chen Ping'an a chance to retort. After finishing business, he quickly left.

The sun was setting, as if someone had set a great fire at the sky's edge, burning the sea of clouds a vivid red.

Mountains and waters in the mist, joys of life require youth.

Immortal Guo Ran, with youthful features, wore a black dharma robe with a peach-wood hairpin tucked in his hair.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "Troubling you, Senior Dragon Gate."

Guo Ran smiled slightly. "Just a small effort, not worth mentioning. As for rebuilding Peace Mountain, Mr. Chen's depth of intention and scope of conception are beyond my ability to match."

For some reason, he always felt that Mr. Chen, who had never set foot on Peace Mountain back then, had long considered himself half a Peace Mountain cultivator.

Chen Ping'an joked, "Since we're both nominal offerings, next time I travel to the Iron Tree Mountain in the Central Divine Continent, I won't be turned away at the door, I suppose."

Guo Ran said, "I may stay here for a few more years, but I'll send a letter to my senior sister. She will sweep the couch and welcome you, keeping the left seat vacant."

A thousand miles of desolate, uninhabited land. Climbing high and looking far, the eyes were full of loneliness.

Where the setting sun shines is the most fearful place to ascend a high tower.

Guo Ran said, "Having some business to attend to is actually good for Huang Ting. It keeps her mind occupied."

So Guo Ran deliberately let Huang Ting decide on many seemingly trivial matters, not simply because she was the mountain lord and he was an offering. He intentionally made things difficult for her.

Chen Ping'an said softly, "When the work is done, she'll feel a bit more at ease."

Wu Shuangjiang's Year Expelling Palace was called the "Youngster's Den" in the Azure Firmament World.

This Peace Mountain was no different.

Chen Ping'an planned to gift the *True Trace of the Dan Script* as a ceremonial token when Peace Mountain's Patriarch Hall was completed. According to Lu Chen's earlier statement, the book's material itself was superior, and with over twelve hundred characters, when refined, it could support a Grand Cosmic Ritual as Peace Mountain's protective formation. However, since Li Xisheng had given him the book, Chen Ping'an naturally needed to ask Li Xisheng. So he had Lu Chen forward the message. Coincidentally, when Li Baoping visited Green Ping Peak this time, she brought it up on her own, saying her brother seemed to know about it and said it was fine.

Li Xisheng also said he would definitely visit Peace Mountain when the time was right.

And this Li Xisheng, currently a Confucian student, was one of the Three Purities incarnations of the Jade Capital's Grand Master Kou Ming, who happened to be the founding patriarch of the Peace Mountain Daoist lineage.

When the previous Peace Mountain lord had achieved Heavenly Lord status, he had burned incense to invite the gods, but failed to see Grand Master Kou Ming "descend" to the Patriarch Hall, which he regretted deeply.

Chen Ping'an bid farewell to Guo Ran. Next, he had to go to Pu Mountain.

Guo Ran clasped his fists and smiled. "Mr. Chen is a true pure Confucian. When discussing Dao and principles, he is solid and substantial, with real learning, never bizarre or strange."

Chen Ping'an said awkwardly, "I really don't deserve such praise from Senior Dragon Gate."

The Ten Thousand Stone Studio, owned by Pu Mountain's Dharma Law Elder Tan Rong, was a highly renowned study both on and off the mountain in Indus Leaf Continent.

Among the ferry stewards of the Haoran World, several had their own little "mountains"—fellow old cultivators they were familiar with and fond of. Occasionally, through private mirrored water-moon talks, they chatted idly and exchanged goods. Over time, this often generated extra income. Earlier, Tan Rong had arranged with the stewards of two outsider cross-continent ferries to help purchase two rare seal impression catalogs from a sect on the Baiai Continent for a hefty sum. Though certainly not the first editions or first carvings, now hyped to astronomical prices, they would still fill a gap in his collection. But today, when Elder Tan Rong voluntarily opened a mirrored water-moon session, he didn't mention the matter anymore. He sat behind a table, empty except for two newly acquired seals conspicuously placed. Tan Rong didn't bring them up, waiting for the sharp-eyed to ask.

After a long idle chat, someone finally asked, "Tan Rong, are those newly carved seal pairs on the table? Pick them up and let me see the inscriptions. I want to see if your seal-carving skill has improved or declined."

Tan Rong smiled, turned the seals to show the side inscriptions and the signature, but didn't reveal the bottom seal text.

The mirrored water-moon fell into prolonged silence.

Because the signature was "Chen Ping'an of Fallen Mountain."

Soon, someone spoke up with certainty: "Fake!"

Another echoed, "Old Tan, why bother?"

Someone sighed with clicks of the tongue, "Tan Rong, Tan Rong, for a bit of vanity, you've thrown away all face. It's not necessary. We all know each other well. Playing the fat man by puffing up one's cheeks—no point."

Tan Rong was furious. But the old elder glanced at the doorway, then stroked his beard and smiled, all anger gone. "What good timing!"

An old ferry steward who had attended the first Spring Banners Talk at Inverted Mountain said, crushing several Snow-Flower Coins into the mirrored water-moon, "Tan Rong, don't do this kind of thing. It's taboo. If it weren't for my knowing your character and Pu Mountain's traditions, and given my extraordinary friendship with the new Chief Impartial, next time I see him at a drinking table, a few cups down, I'd have to bring this up. Don't you think I don't recognize the new Chief Impartial's handwriting? The side inscriptions on these two seals are soft and weak—overly charming, lacking strength. Who are you fooling? I'll take you to the city wall sometime to see the Chief Impartial's own calligraphy... Oh! Chief Impartial?!"

This old steward at the Nascent Soul realm had once, along with a female cultivator ferry master at the Golden Core, received a small extra assignment to record discussions at the Spring Banners Talk.

A young man in blue robes and long coat suddenly appeared in the mirrored water-moon, standing beside Tan Rong. He clasped his fists, shook them, and said with a grin, "From the voice, could it be Steward Liu Yu of the Fu Zhong Ferry?"

Even through the mirrored water-moon, the old steward felt his scalp tingle and his back chill. He didn't dare pretend not to hear, stammering, "Indeed, indeed."

Then a female cultivator hurriedly threw money into the mirrored water-moon and said timidly, "'Rainbow Skirt' Ferry Master Liu Shen, greetings to Chief Impartial."

Chen Ping'an tucked his hands into his sleeves and smiled with a nod.

Before Tan Rong ended this mirrored water-moon session, Chen Ping'an clasped his fists and said, "Here, I wish everyone a belated New Year. Great luck, smooth sailing, and may your wealth flow in the new year."

In the mirrored water-moon, a dozen voices responded cheerfully, returning the greeting to the young Chief Impartial.

Li Baoping and the others had already left Pu Mountain to continue their southern tour. Following the route provided by Pu Mountain, they would go along the Pei River to the sea, visit an island immortal ruin, then return to shore.

With Pei Qian, Zhong Kui, and Yu Jin, even if they faced the Ten Thousand Yao Sect occupying the Three Mountain Blessed Land in Indus Leaf Continent, they wouldn't be afraid.

But now, Pu Mountain's Patriarch Hall had a new direct disciple, widely considered someone who got in through connections. His name was Cui Wanzhan, actually Cui Dongshan's Yang Spirit Avatar. But Chen Ping'an couldn't meet with him for now.

Earlier, at the Green Shirt Ferry of the Green Ping Sword Sect, a blue-robed old man had come traveling alone. Hearing that Lord Chen was not on the mountain, he didn't linger and continued his travels.

Like a family elder—most are like this. They care deeply in their hearts but pretend not to. When they do speak, it's always understated. If a junior isn't careful, they miss many meanings hidden in the elders' plain expressions, gazes, and words.

Chen Ping'an left Pu Mountain and arrived at Dense Snow Peak. Cui Dongshan looked aggrieved. "I couldn't very well tie Senior Song up and keep him from leaving, could I?"

Would I dare?

With old Song Yushao's stubborn temper, if Immortal Capital Mountain insisted on detaining him, it would only displease the old senior. Then you, teacher, would take out your anger on me.

Chen Ping'an asked, "Where is Senior Song traveling now?"

Cui Dongshan smiled. "It seems Senior Song never planned to tour Indus Leaf Continent much. After leaving Green Shirt Ferry, he headed straight north. By now, he's probably in an old city of the former Great Abyss Dynasty—very likely the place where you and Zhong Kui met. There's nothing to see in the other ghost cities along the way. At least there's a new city god's temple mound there, still busy. With Senior Song's temperament, he'd certainly stop to take a look."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "Go about your business. I'll find Senior Song myself."

Cui Dongshan chuckled. "Teacher, let me share good news. Chai Wu has reached the Jade Pure Realm. The natal flying sword gifted by Xiao Mo has also been fully refined by her. So our Green Ping Sword Sect has another Jade Pure Realm sword cultivator."

Chen Ping'an was speechless for a moment.

Cui Dongshan said, "I didn't hide it deliberately. When they found out, Sun Chunwang, Bai Xuan, and the others redoubled their efforts in sword training. Sun Chunwang handled it better, but Bai Xuan was worst hit—like he'd been struck by lightning. He kept repeating, 'Impossible, impossible,' crouched on the ground holding his head, almost rolling on the floor. Because of Bai Xuan's commotion, He Gu and Yu Xie felt a bit better. But generally, no one envied Chai Wu's meteoric rise. They're sword cultivators from the Sword Qi Great Wall after all—broad vision, seen big worlds, solid Dao heart foundations. They're certainly unconvinced, like Bai Xuan, whose 'impossible' was 'How can there be a peer of mine with better aptitude under heaven? No way, shouldn't be, how could it be?' In the last few days, Bai Xuan has calmed down a bit, but he'll still brood over it for at least a month."

Chen Ping'an sighed helplessly. "What a prima donna."

It was indeed unique to have swindled that Qiu Zhi of Nine Chess Peak into signing the hero roster not long after meeting him.

Chen Ping'an suddenly asked two seemingly random questions that made Cui Dongshan's forehead sweat. He opened his mouth several times but couldn't speak.

"Have you ever fished for eels by the field ridges?"

"In the 'White Heart' chapter of *Guanzi*, it says, 'Better than being renowned throughout the world is to stop.' Dongshan, what do you think?"

Just as Cui Dongshan was about to speak, his teacher's form transformed into over a dozen sword lights, crossing Immortal Capital Mountain in an instant.

Cui Dongshan stood dumbfounded, murmuring, "Teacher really wants to go against the Confucian Temple's rules?"

"In doing so, teacher would be provoking the Sage of Rites!"

Not daring to say a word against his teacher, Cui Dongshan could only stomp his feet and curse that woman Yangzhi.

For the first time, Cui Dongshan felt that his teacher's relatively low realm was a good thing.

But then he couldn't help cursing Yangzhi again for being a fool—taking the bait like that, walking right into the trap?

Wasn't that jumping onto the chopping block herself?

Or was she relying on the Confucian Temple's rules and being outside the battlefield, confident that his teacher wouldn't strike?

Could it be that the Sage of Rites was doing this intentionally?

A bet with that Zouzi?

Within the former Great Abyss Dynasty, the once ghostly battlefield sites had now become clear and bright.

At dusk, an old man in blue robes with a cloth bundle slung diagonally walked slowly into the city gate. This was the prefectural seat, Tongcheng. What the old man saw was no different from previous places: crumbling walls, utterly lifeless.

He looked toward the old city god temple site. Somewhat surprised—could there already be a new city god inside? He decided to go take a look.

The old man had been walking the jianghu his whole life. When he finally retired and left the jianghu, it seemed he hadn't traveled far.

Not long ago, the old man found his grandson Song Fengshan and granddaughter-in-law Liu Qian and said he wanted to visit Indus Leaf Continent in the south.

No amount of persuasion from Song Fengshan and Liu Qian worked; they had to let the old man travel across the continent alone.

As for why the old man suddenly had this intention, the two juniors knew perfectly well. They blamed the mountain goddess Wei Wei, whose shrine was built on the watershed. This mountain goddess had sent a secret letter to the Jingling Mountain shrine, addressing it to her close friend Liu Qian, telling her about the new branch sect of Chen the Sword Immortal's Fallen Mountain being established in Indus Leaf Continent. It was just a matter of flying sword message, and it earned her a favor. Liu Qian, after all, was now a colleague officially enshrined and registered in the Ministry of Rites' water and land records.

In truth, the couple knew that Grandfather had truly wanted to travel to two places: North Juzhou Prefecture in the north and the Xia Gorge Prefecture in the northwest.

He had wanted to go to the former when young. Back then, the martial arts masters of the Comb Water Kingdom always felt that jianghu sword guests didn't differ much from mountain sword cultivators. If there was a difference, one trip would tell.

The latter was a place he wanted to visit in his old age. Either way, both were places he very much wanted to go but never reached.

Song Fengshan certainly wasn't at ease letting his grandfather go to Indus Leaf Continent. Among the nine continents of the Great Bright World, this one had been most ravaged by the Barbarian Wilderness demon horde, and now it was the most turbulent both on and off the mountain.

Last time, Chen Ping'an had brought his Dao companion Ning Yao to visit Jingling Mountain and had a drinking session. But they were in a hurry to reach Colorful Garment Kingdom, so they didn't stay.

Song Yushao also had no face to detain the young man. Leaning on his age and acting arrogantly wouldn't do. It was good that the young man was busy with career and important matters; idling was unseemly.

As for not being invited to the Fallen Mountain branch sect ceremony, Song Yushao didn't mind. He bore no grudge. What did a mere jianghu martial artist have to do with those grand mountain scenes? Besides, the branch wasn't even in Bottle Gourd Continent. The journey was far—perhaps the kid thought he was too old to walk, couldn't eat spicy food, couldn't drink anymore.

Little brat.

Next time they met, he wouldn't get a kind face.

Currently, in the city, there were about a dozen living people.

Their leader was an armored, blade-wielding burly man, a sixth-rank martial artist pretending to be fifth-rank, named Hong Chou. He and the woman Wang Manneng were illicit lovers.

Wang Manneng was a wild cultivator, short and petite but with a fox-like charm and fair skin.

She wore a form-fitting short night robe and embroidered shoes. According to a certain lecherous fat man, she had a slender waist and plump backside.

This group of a dozen or so wild cultivators and jianghu martial artists had come here seeking ill-gotten gains. "Without night grass, the horse won't fatten; no windfall, no wealth." Indeed, they nearly made a big score. But unfortunately, they ran into a scholar surnamed Zhong, accompanied by a fat attendant. In this ghost city, these habitual criminals were forced to do good deeds. They worked as carpenters, building wooden wheel carts to carefully gather scattered bones; they played philanthropists, building a righteous mortuary; they found geomantic auspicious sites for graves; and they had to identify the remains' identities, which meant checking household records and local gazetteers in the city's two prefectural offices. Never in their lives had they studied, flipped through books, or copied names so diligently—it was like practicing calligraphy.

Moreover, every night at the old city god temple, they served as temporary ghost messengers, accompanying Gu Qiu in "night trials" of the many lonely ghosts, meticulously examining their life stories. The martial artists among them, not qi cultivators, were already numb. They figured they'd never fear ghosts walking at night after this. Lately, they joked among themselves—their handwriting wasn't bad, comparable to ordinary scholars. They could earn a few silver pieces writing family letters on the street or spring couplets at the New Year temple fair.

Now, sleeping in this ghost city was a bit more peaceful.

But some who worked diligently during the day dreamt of reciting names all night, disturbing others' sleep. Those woken up, annoyed, would slap them.

Recently, however, disagreements arose. On the morning of the Beginning of Spring, Gu Qiu suddenly said the city's affairs were settled. Everyone could go their own way. The gang should have disbanded and split the spoils, each returning home. Besides the gold and silver unearthed with hard work, there were antiques, calligraphy, rare books—all appraised by Gu Qiu and converted into immortal coins or real gold and silver, fairly settled. But Wang Manneng's faction wanted to stay with Gu Qiu, thinking it might be a path to rapid success, even bringing glory to their ancestors. Landing a government offering position wasn't a dream. However, her lover Hong Chou found it pointless. He preferred the group stick together, find a place to found a sect, gain capital, then surrender to the court and sell at a higher price. The two sides argued endlessly, and neither wanted to disband, so they dragged on, living in two adjacent former official mansions, each with a library—one claiming seven thousand scrolls, the other eight thousand—like two wives quarreling.

Now, a row of them squatted on the broken city wall, like they were... sunbathing. They had nothing to do. All their arguments hadn't yielded a mutually acceptable path.

They spotted a blue-robed, long-coated old man appearing on the street. From his steps and bearing, he seemed a martial artist.

A young man, thin as a monkey, called out, "Old sir, what brings you to this godforsaken place?"

In the past, he'd have called him "old bastard."

Seeing the old man didn't respond, the thin man deliberately warned, "Old sir, best be careful. Dusk is falling, and this is a haunted land full of fierce ghosts and evil spirits. Don't be overconfident, relying on some martial arts to think you can swagger through. You might capsize in a gutter. Those ghostly tricks are strange—not something a jianghu person can handle."

Reading and copying had refined his speech.

In truth, they had stripped the city bare of anything valuable. If someone else came looking for treasures, they'd be wasting time. Only scraps remained. If they could earn from that, it was a skill.

They were just bored, sunbathing and chatting, having been at it for nearly four hours.

The old man smiled and nodded. "I'm a traveler from afar. My Indus Leaf accent is poor; I can only catch the gist. I appreciate your kindness."

The thin man asked curiously, "From afar? Where from?"

The old man said, "From Bottle Gourd Continent."

The group drew a sharp breath, feeling cold down their spines. The old guy was a tough nut, definitely thorny!

What else? A dragon crossing the river from Bottle Gourd to tour their continent—how could his skill be low?

Offend anyone but not someone from Bottle Gourd Continent. That was practically the consensus now among both mountain and jianghu in Indus Leaf.

No choice. That place really produced talent.

Wasn't the last Chief Impartial of the Sword Qi Great Wall from Bottle Gourd?

That fat man named Gusu, before leaving the ghost city, had sworn he was a close friend of the young Chief Impartial. He said that Sword Immortal Chen was ten feet tall, broad-shouldered, with a fierce face, and that just his appearance could vanquish evil spirits. He suggested that those martial brothers who weren't qi cultivators only needed to call out the young Chief Impartial's name to be unafraid walking at night.

Of course, they didn't believe it. This fat man, who drooled over Wang Manneng every day, could be sworn brothers with the distant, lofty Chief Impartial? But even disbelieving, they had to flatter him verbally. No choice—they had suffered at his hands. They'd been hung up, tied to beams as "gentlemen," but the worst was when the "beam gentleman" dozed off, only to wake and find a woman with blood dripping from her seven orifices combing her hair beside him. When he fainted and came to, he'd be in the female ghost's arms, staring into her eyes until he passed out again.

Days felt like years. Their bitter experiences in the city could fill a book of strange tales.

Song Yushao walked straight toward the old city god temple.

An old jianghu traveler could roughly gauge the feng shui of a place.

Just the fact that not a single bone lay scattered in the city spoke volumes.

Likely, a quite decent city god had emerged locally.

Gu Qiu, the true master of the ghost city, now presided over the old prefectural city god temple.

There was a young captive ghost maiden named Xiao Fang, at the Golden Core realm. She had served as Gu Qiu's maidservant for years, living in a peach blossom courtyard.

Gu Qiu was born into a prominent family of the former Great Abyss Dynasty. His father had been the director of the imperial weaving bureau, a confidant of the late emperor. Gu Qiu himself was a genuine jinshi scholar, passing both levels of the imperial exams. At barely twenty, he was appointed as the county defender of a large county under the prefecture, achieving remarkable results.

Earlier, Mr. Zhong had said he could recommend Gu Qiu to the new Great Abyss emperor, possibly earning official recognition as a prefectural city god.

Merit-based promotion, nothing to be modest about. But Gu Qiu hesitated, mainly because the Great Abyss general who had presided over the water-land ritual had been perfunctory, just to finish the task. During transport, at least half the bones had shattered. Gu Qiu went to advise him and nearly got surrounded and attacked. That had chilled Gu Qiu's heart completely. Furthermore, in Gu Qiu's view, the new emperor had not ascended legitimately; he wasn't the rightful heir.

The fat man had ridiculed him: still carrying old literati habits at such a young age, unwilling to rescue the situation, always waiting for a brilliant, ambitious emperor before coming out to serve—then you can't blame anyone for not wanting you. If I were emperor, I wouldn't want a pure stream celebrity like you either...

Gu Qiu knew that Ghost Immortal Gusu was using provocation, but after consideration, there was some truth.

Earlier, Zhong Kui had hit the nail on the head: the reason he couldn't secure a city god temple or turn the merit book pages had its reasons. He should think more about "intentional good deeds" and "unintentional evil."

In the city god temple, Xiao Fang softly reminded Gu Qiu, "An old man just arrived. Claims to be from Bottle Gourd Continent. Looks like a sixth-rank martial artist."

Gu Qiu nodded. "Don't bother him. Let him wander freely."

As the host of this city, a nearly officially recognized prefectural city god, Gu Qiu could see that the old man was an upright jianghu elder.

Sure enough, the old man didn't enter the city god temple. He just clasped his fists from outside, then went elsewhere.

Song Yushao had planned to put on a stern face for the young man next time they met. But when he actually saw the blue-robed figure on the street, he couldn't help but smile.

Song Yushao walked quickly with his hands behind his back, smiling. "I heard you weren't on the mountain. How did you find me here?"

Chen Ping'an beamed. "I hadn't gone far when I got word by flying sword from my student, so I rushed over. It wasn't far."

Song Yushao asked, "Find a place, get a hotpot, and have a little drink?"

Chen Ping'an smiled. "You're advanced in years, senior. If you want to drink lightly, go ahead. I'm going to drink freely. Hotpot with wine—I have the world."

Song Yushao laughed and cursed, "Why bring up that sore point? Where'd you learn that weird talk from?"

They walked side by side. The old man turned to look at the young man in blue with a sword on his back. "Not bad."

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment. "There's something I might need to consult you about."

Song Yushao nodded. "Let's talk once we're at the wine table."

Before appearing on the street, Chen Ping'an had already asked Gu Qiu and Xiao Fang to find hotpot ingredients. As for wine, no need to find it—Chen Ping'an had his own.

In a cleanly tidied house, a steaming copper pot was already on the table, with various sliced meats and vegetables, dishes of chopped peppers and sauces all prepared.

Chen Ping'an clasped his fists in thanks to Xiao Fang. She smiled and waved, saying not to be so polite. She curtsied and left gracefully.

Since he had to drink with Senior Song and talk a bit, Chen Ping'an didn't invite her or Gu Qiu to join.

As Xiao Fang crossed the threshold, she stopped and asked curiously, "May I ask the gentleman's name?"

After all, he was Mr. Zhong's mountain friend, and his presence last time had been truly imposing—he had awed everyone at once.

Chen Ping'an smiled. "My surname is Chen, given name Ping'an. Peace and safety."

Xiao Fang paused, suppressing a laugh. "What a coincidence."

Same name as the young Chief Impartial.

Chen Ping'an nodded with a smile. "Quite a coincidence."

Those watching from the wall burst into laughter, whistles rising. Wang Manneng in particular was beside herself with glee. "Such a handsome young scholar, so bold. Sister likes bookish types like you."

Xiao Fang glared at them and shooed them away.

What did it matter if Brother Chen had the same name as the Chief Impartial? Could that Chen Ping'an do anything about it?

Chen Ping'an brought out two bottles of wine and two white bowls. Drinking with small cups was what Liu the Wine Immortal and Wei Hailiang would do.

Song Yushao glanced at the saucer of seasonings beside Chen Ping'an—dried chilies and fresh chopped peppers barely half-full. Noticing the old man's gaze, Chen Ping'an added two more spoonfuls.

Song Yushao poured himself a full bowl of wine but didn't drink immediately. He spoke, "Don't do things against your conscience. Don't do things that go against jianghu morality, even if they are from the heart. If you can't do something today, but you might in the future, never resort to unscrupulous means to achieve your goal. Don't be in a hurry."

Chen Ping'an was silent for a moment, then raised his bowl and smiled. "Then I have no questions."

Song Yushao lifted his own bowl, hesitated several times, then finally couldn't help asking softly, "What's wrong? Taken a fancy to a woman other than Miss Ning?"

Chen Ping'an was dumbfounded. "Senior, what kind of question is that? If anyone else said that, I'd—" He raised his bowl, frustrated. "Senior, no more nonsense. Bottoms up."

Song Yushao roared angrily, "So I hit the nail on the head! You've grown some guts now, not a coward anymore. Drink your ass—are you asking for a scolding?!"

Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "Does that seem possible to you, senior? Would I dare?"

Every time I went drinking at the Sword Qi Great Wall, I had to dissipate all the alcohol before knocking on the door. At least I didn't get locked out all night. At least that.

Song Yushao's expression relaxed. He nodded. "True. This bowl—I'll take my time. You finish it."

Chen Ping'an drained it in one gulp. The old man, who had said he'd take his time, didn't actually take it slow. He drank the whole bowl too.

Seeing this, Chen Ping'an somewhat regretted not bringing out the "big bowls" from his Sword Qi Great Wall shop.

Neither urged the other to drink. As Song Yushao sipped his liquor, he suddenly asked, "How did you get white hair, kid?"

Not many, but since it was noticeable at a glance, it meant the young man had more than a few.

Chen Ping'an was startled, then laughed. "Probably from dropping realms. It doesn't matter. Looking older is fine."

He hadn't noticed it himself. Those around him who had noticed, for various reasons and motives, had chosen not to mention it.

Perhaps only an elder already white-haired would speak of it without reservation.

The old man didn't ask about the realm drop. He just smiled. "Only the young would think white hair makes one seem older and that's fine."

Chen Ping'an chuckled.

Outside, by the corner of the wall, a white-clad youth had been squatting. After Wang Manneng's group was chased away, the youth, now free, followed them.

He didn't disturb his teacher, who was drinking and reminiscing with the old senior whose few words had altered a world-shaking event.

Wang Manneng turned to look at the handsome youth with his pure white sleeves flapping as he walked, seemingly in a great mood. The more she looked at him, the more she thought the blue-robed guest at the table was quite ugly, very ugly.

The woman twisted her slender waist, smiled seductively, and said, "What young gentleman from some family? Playing here at night—aren't you afraid of walking in the dark? Stick close to sister. Pitch black, you can't see your hand in front of your face. It's common to bump into or touch something. Sister won't blame you."

Cui Dongshan was in a good mood and ignored her. He just looked up. It was early spring, and snow was falling.

The stunningly beautiful youth in white remained silent. The woman found it dull but didn't dare reach out to pinch his cheek, not for fear of jealousy but because, for some reason, this extremely handsome youth—with a red mole on his forehead—was so beautiful he reminded her of the plum blossoms by the village bridge during heavy snow in her maiden days.

Cui Dongshan tucked his hands in his sleeves and walked slowly down the street. The snow gradually grew heavier. He came to himself and suddenly smiled. "Sister, my name is Cui Dongshan. I am my teacher's student."

On the table, the hotpot; beyond the table, the snow. In the three thousand worlds, all within the falling snowflakes.