Chapter 967: Not the Second Yudou

Chapter 967: Not the Second Yudou

Snow and moonlight complemented each other, and the youth was even more ethereally handsome.

Including the fellow who called himself Cui Dongshan, there were six people in total, all walking towards that high-gated mansion housing a library of six thousand scrolls.

A man as thin as a monkey walked at the very front, using his feet to sweep away the snow and clear a path, lest the woman’s embroidered shoes be soaked through.

The woman named Wang Manmeng claimed to be at the Observation Sea realm, but disliked being called an immortal. The skinny man had once tried to flatter her and ended up getting slapped for his trouble.

Along the way, she chatted idly with the handsome youth who called himself Cui Dongshan. Of course, the woman, a wild cultivator by origin, wore a smile like a flower while hiding many intricate thoughts beneath, much like the road hidden under the snow—looking pure white and flawless on the surface, but if you actually scraped it open, it was all mud.

Wang Manmeng noticed that the youth beside her walked with light, unsteady steps, not at all like a martial practitioner. His boots were already caked with snow, and the cold had him shivering. He kept lightly patting the snow off his head and shoulders while repeatedly asking, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

The main reason she was here was that she and her paramour Hong Chou had had a falling out. Wang Manmeng didn’t want to live under someone else’s roof and be at their mercy. She also had a deep-seated aversion to government officials. Nor did she have any intention of founding her own sect on some mountain peak—there were too many rules on the mountains, and where there were rules, there was trouble. Hong Chou, having come from the jianghu underworld, had no idea about the intricacies of the mountain cultivation world. Killing without spilling blood was the norm. Running into those registered cultivators with powerful backers and deep backgrounds was like walking by the river often—sooner or later, you’d get your feet wet. There would always be some kind of unexpected calamity. If they had already built up a home and business when such a conflict arose, it would be hard to extricate themselves. It wouldn’t be so easy to just pack up and leave. And if they had to bow and scrape, swallowing their pride? What then? With Hong Chou’s ugly mug, even if he washed himself clean and sold his ass, who would want it? In the end, it would be her who got pushed out to play the "peace bride," wouldn’t it? You, Hong Chou, don’t care about the color of your own hat, but I’m not about to pretend to moan and writhe seductively in bed—that’s too much trouble.

So the two groups had been living in adjacent high-gated mansions, maintaining a sort of "well water does not interfere with river water" truce.

The woman walked side by side with the white-robed youth into the mansion, entering a great hall. All the valuable items had long been carted away, leaving the place bare and empty. Only a nanmu plaque remained, but it wasn’t hung on the wall—it was just lying haphazardly under a table against the wall. The white-robed youth stepped over the threshold, scanned the hall with a few glances, and finding nothing else of note, he trotted over to crouch by the table, then stuck his rear in the air as he crawled underneath. He reached out and wiped the dust off the plaque, revealing the characters: "Heaven Long, Man Long".

Cui Dongshan took out the plaque, first placing it on the table, intending to move it back to his study on Secret Snow Peak.

Two braziers were set up in the room, the charcoal made by them. The skinny man was quick and diligent. He went to add more charcoal to the braziers, and finally remembered to cover the glowing coals with some ash to prevent them from burning too fast. He clearly knew how to be frugal.

The group split into two factions, each sitting around a brazier. Outside the door, snowflakes danced wildly.

Perhaps because of the unfamiliar youth, there was little conversation and the atmosphere was chilly.

This person’s origin was unknown, and daring to enter a ghost city alone—how could he possibly be the frail, ignorant youth he appeared to be? Anyone bold enough to enter a ghost city alone was rarely a good sort. He looked like a youth, but who knew how old he really was.

Only the man who had been adding charcoal had the nerve to sit close to the beautiful woman, just opposite the pretty-faced boy.

Wang Manmeng was Hong Chou’s mistress; under normal circumstances, no one dared to flirt with her. Previously, Gu Qiu, who looked like an educated man, had been given a hard time by Hong Chou ever since entering the city. This skinny man was an exception—probably because he figured that even a choosy mistress wouldn’t stoop to that level.

The charcoal in the brazier crackled like firecrackers, occasionally sending up sparks. Several times, sparks flew onto the man’s trouser legs. The skinny man seemed to be worried about the sparks burning through his pants, so he kept patting them away.

Cui Dongshan bent down, picked up a piece of charcoal from the edge of the brazier, and lightly crumbled some of it. "This is white charcoal, isn’t it? Much more precious than ordinary black charcoal. Sister Manmeng, you folks really know how to live such a refined life?"

Wang Manmeng lifted her chin, slanting a glance at the man sitting opposite Cui Dongshan, and gave a bewitching smile. "What do I know about white charcoal versus black charcoal? That’s Qian Hou’er’s unique skill. He has no real talents, but as a cook in the kitchen, chopping firewood and burning charcoal, digging with a hoe, or building wooden carts—he’s a jack of all trades."

The man, as skinny as a bamboo pole, had been leaning forward, head down, warming his hands over the fire, and using his peripheral vision to admire the beautiful woman’s embroidered shoes. He swallowed nervously—he was truly covetous. Wang Manmeng’s skin was so white it seemed like water would squeeze out of it. Her two feet, wearing those embroidered shoes, never saw the sun all year round, so they must be even fairer and softer. Gu Qiu, who used to often help her pour out her foot-washing water, was truly blessed with such heavenly fortune… Now, hearing the words, he looked up, rubbed his hands, and smiled. "Brother Cui has a good eye. It is indeed white charcoal, not comparable to black charcoal. It burns long without smoke and doesn’t choke you. Of course, good things cost money. Ordinary folks really can’t afford this kind of white charcoal."

Cui Dongshan took off his boots, which were soaked through with snow water, apologized, and then held one boot in each hand, turning them over to warm by the fire. He asked with a smile, "Back in your hometown, how much silver could a hundred catties of charcoal fetch? A couple of taels?"

Qian Hou’er smiled. "Back home, we live off the mountains. There are several kinds of hardwood on the mountain that are very suitable for making white charcoal. They have quite a reputation—they’re even recorded in the local gazetteer. The kilns for burning charcoal are all called Green Carp Kilns. As for how the name came about, there’s a story. At the foot of a mountain, by a river, there was a Lady Carp Temple. Later, when I left my hometown far behind, I learned that it was called a ‘licentious shrine.’ The name sounds really ugly. I don’t know what the court and scholars were thinking, not even changing the name. Before I left home, I remember that the incense at Lady Carp Temple was always very good. I used to go burn incense and kowtow there when I was a child. If we encountered a heavy snow like today, when it’s freezing cold, Heaven gives us a meal, and the price goes up. It could sell for two taels and four or five maces of silver. If I had some connections with the accountants and gatekeepers of wealthy households in the prefecture, the price could even double. Brother Cui, I can tell you’re from a wealthy family, and you’re also an immortal cultivator on the mountain. How come you’re so familiar with the market prices of the charcoal trade?"

Wang Manmeng actually wanted to interrupt several times, but seeing that the white-robed youth was listening attentively and patiently, she waited for Qian Hou’er to finish his long-winded spiel before scolding him with a smile. "Brother Cui just asked you a simple question about the price. Why are you rambling on so much? Too much horse piss makes your mouth run?"

The skinny man looked embarrassed. In truth, this jianghu man nicknamed Qian Hou’er didn’t usually talk much. He was just a third-realm martial artist with some rudimentary martial arts skills, so he couldn’t really bluster loudly. But when the conversation turned to the craft of charcoal burning, which related to his hometown, and he finally met someone who knew quality goods, the man couldn’t contain himself and let his mouth run away.

Cui Dongshan smiled. "My master used to burn charcoal too. He’s a real expert. I just picked up a few things here and there. If my master were here, he’d definitely want to chat with you more."

Cui Dongshan asked casually, "How long have you folks been here? How much silver have you earned?"

Wang Manmeng said sweetly, "In answer to Brother Cui, we came to the city in early summer last year. Half a year has passed in a flash. As for how much we earned… well, wealth is not to be revealed, so let’s not talk about it. I won’t say we’re returning fully laden, but we haven’t worked in vain. It’s still much better than being a pawn or small fry for various courts outside. We’ve had a rare good New Year. Brother Cui, are you interested in traveling the jianghu with us? Hong Chou has a sworn brother who’s somewhat connected with military generals. He’s well-informed. At the end of last year, he sent word that the Dayuan Dynasty probably won’t be able to attend to these ghost cities that have already been squeezed dry within the next two or three years. That emperor is very busy."

Back in late winter of last year, before they met Zhong Kui and Gusu, they had, by Gu Qiu’s estimation, already earned roughly the equivalent of one Grain Rain Coin. Divided equally, that would be about ten Snowflake Coins per person. But according to the customary rules of the road, accounts weren’t reckoned that way. The real lion’s share went to Hong Chou, who claimed to be a fifth-realm martial artist but was actually at the sixth realm, and Wang Manmeng, who claimed to be at the Observation Sea realm but was actually at the Cave Dwelling realm. This pair of casual lovers took about forty percent for themselves. However, since this team had been cobbled together by the two of them, no one dared to object. After all, Hong Chou’s blade could even kill those drifting malevolent ghosts—killing a few living people would be no trouble at all. If he didn’t turn on them and eat them alive, he was already quite chivalrous. After that, it seemed they hit a lucky streak, earning another seven or eight Minor Heat Coins. Now the two groups were waiting to see how Wang Manmeng would negotiate with Hong Chou.

Cui Dongshan asked with a smile, "Coming to a place like this to earn money with your lives on the line—haven’t any of you died?"

Wang Manmeng laughed. "No. We’ve been really lucky. It wasn’t for nothing that the first thing I did when I entered the city was to go to the City God Temple to burn incense and make a wish. And Qian Hou’er has skills—he helped burn two big baskets of paper money."

Qian Hou’er, having received a compliment, felt his bones lighten by a few ounces. He sat there grinning like a fool.

It was truly rare. Twelve people had entered the city together, and through all the dangers, they had not only earned a lot of money but also come out intact, without losing any limbs. Their counterparts in other cities hadn’t been so fortunate. In the dozens of ghost cities of the former Dayuan Dynasty, big and small, the court had previously held water-and-land dharma assemblies. But after those grand purification rituals, they proved utterly useless. Malevolent ghosts and ferocious spirits still ran rampant. It wasn’t until close to the end of the year that things calmed down a bit. Most were like their group—a few wild cultivators who knew some mountain techniques would take the lead, gather a group of jianghu martial artists, and scavenge like wild dogs, eating the scraps that fell through the fingers of the court soldiers. During the autumn and winter months of last year, news often spread that in those prefectural cities, people would suddenly drop dead, or be possessed by ghosts, or be haunted, leading to mutual slaughter. By dawn, the streets would be littered with corpses. Rumors had it that in one ghost city, where battles had been particularly fierce, the yin qi was so heavy that a Earth Immortal ghost had emerged, commanding an army of several thousand yin soldiers. Back then, Hong Chou was extremely worried and considered pulling out of the city, afraid that the Golden Core ghost immortal would move south—a yin army crossing the border was no joke. But for some reason, as the year-end approached, each ghost city seemed to have its boundaries clearly defined. There was no longer the nightly sight of ghosts grouping together as if led by some heroic ghost general. Then on New Year’s Eve, in the latter half of the night, there was another big commotion. Gu Qiu, daring to overstep and break the rules, risking censure from the Dayuan court and even the Confucian academy, for the first time put on the official robe of a City God. He took his seat in the City God Temple. After that, all the ghostly beings seemed to vanish into thin air. Qian Hou’er swore that Heaven had opened its eyes, gathered those lonely ghosts, and gave them a place to go, paving a Yellow Springs Road in the mortal world. The ghosts crossed the Bridge of Helplessness, drank the soup of oblivion, and could then be reborn.

Wang Manmeng was a true Qi practitioner. Her knowledge and experience were far beyond the folksy sayings Qian Hou’er had picked up. Yet even she was confused. At that time, she had sensed the celestial phenomenon, swiftly summoned the wind, and gone to the city wall. It felt as if the whole human world had been infused with an indescribable "aura." It wasn’t the kind of concentrated spiritual qi between heaven and earth that cultivators dreamed of—the kind that gathers to form mountain-and-water phenomena. Once in her life, Wang Manmeng had made a special pilgrimage to gaze upon a highly revered immortal mountain sect from afar. Near that sect, named "Taiping Mountain," she had also witnessed a similar aura. But it seemed far inferior in grandeur to that night’s spectacle. In the dead of night, Wang Manmeng stood alone on the city wall, watching those specks of "lamplight" slowly gather together, form ranks, and leave the ghost city en masse. She could faintly see that among the procession were civil officials in official robes, soldiers in armor. Even on their final journey along the yin-dark water road of the underworld, they seemed to maintain order. In the procession, there were pale-faced but smiling children, led by their elders, who all turned and bowed to the woman on the city wall—the one who had helped collect their remains and build a communal grave… The woman on the wall stood in a daze. When she came to, she reached out a thumb to wipe her cheek. In that instant, for no reason, a saying she had never taken seriously came to mind: "The righteous qi of Heaven and Earth is vast and enduring."

But once she came down from the wall, that thought faded. By dawn, it was completely gone. What the woman thought about, again and again, was her own future path.

Wang Manmeng watched the white-robed youth place his boots by the brazier and hold his snowy white socks to the fire while pinching his nose. She asked seductively, "Brother Cui, what do you do? Judging by your appearance, you’re a registered cultivator from some new mountain sect, out on a journey. All alone—doesn’t your sect assign elders to protect you?"

He didn’t seem like a retainer cultivator of the new Dayuan court. He had no airs. Simply put, the way he looked at people was indeed like he was looking at human beings.

That kind of discernment, as a rogue cultivator expelled from her sect who had drifted around for fifty years, Wang Manmeng still possessed.

The white-robed youth pinched one nostril while shaking two silk socks with his other hand and smiled slightly. "Me? I’m the sect master of a sect now."

Wang Manmeng covered her mouth and giggled, then lightly patted the youth’s arm. "Brother Cui loves to joke."

A young blade-wielder by the other brazier laughed. "Sect master? Why not just be the patriarch of a cult?"

It had always been the rule that sects below the mountains weren’t called "Zongs" (sects) and immortal mansions on the mountains weren’t called "Jiaos" (cults). But relatively speaking, the restrictions on the former were looser. If a jianghu sect really called itself a "Zong," as long as the local court didn’t intervene, it wasn’t too big a deal.

If this fellow surnamed Cui wasn’t joking, then if he was a "sect master," he definitely wasn’t from a mountain immortal mansion. After all, on the current Tongye Continent, how many Zongs were there?

Who would have thought this pretty-faced boy, so young, was also a jianghu wanderer.

Everyone here was an old jianghu hand. Once they heard the youth wasn’t a mountain immortal master, the atmosphere immediately warmed up, and they became less constrained. As for whether his words were a smoke screen and he was actually a Qi practitioner pretending to be a jianghu boy—no matter. If the sky fell, Wang Manmeng and her paramour would hold it up. And if they couldn’t, wasn’t there Gu Qiu, the alternate City God, to clean up the mess? In this prefectural city, they had plenty of confidence.

Cui Dongshan smiled. "I almost became a deputy patriarch too."

Qian Hou’er finally found someone who could brag even more than he did, and he couldn’t bring himself to laugh at the guy.

Cui Dongshan continued, "My mountain sect has a small workforce for now. I manage fewer than ten thousand registered cultivators."

Wang Manmeng doubled over with laughter. This Brother Cui was wasted if he didn’t become a storyteller in a tavern.

Qian Hou’er laughed while craning his neck to sneak a look at the woman’s heavy bosom.

"Brother Cui, could your sister come over to your place and be the chief retainer? Or the law-enforcement patriarch, or even manage the finances? Your sister is really good at running a household and budgeting carefully."

Cui Dongshan rubbed his chin, looking earnest. "Then sister would have to ask separately a sword cultivator at the Immortal realm, a sword cultivator at the Nascent Soul realm, and a ninth-realm martial artist whether they’d be willing to vacate their positions for you."

Everyone exchanged glances, then burst into laughter.

If he were a registered cultivator on the mountain, they’d admit it—such amusing talk was rare.

Provided he wasn’t the kind of eccentric registered cultivator who was petty, liked to joke, but absolutely wouldn’t allow others to joke with him—laughing one moment and turning his back the next.

Cui Dongshan suddenly asked, "Sister, are you that determined to find out whether I’m a registered cultivator? What, do you have a grudge against mountain immortals? Or an irreconcilable enmity where one has to die?"

Wang Manmeng laughed so hard her mouth wouldn’t close. She reached out to cover her heaving bosom. Since she liked to wear a night-robe, the contours of her mountains were distinct—tall, high-arched, facing each other—and particularly imposing. She rubbed her chest and said, "Brother Cui, that guess of yours has no basis. It’s you who is suspicious, just like us mountain-and-lake wild cultivators."

Cui Dongshan smiled. "No need to be nervous. I was just asking. I must be misunderstanding you, sister. I keep feeling a killing intent."

The exquisitely proportioned beauty bit her lip. "Sister wouldn’t dare kill anyone. With no one to rely on, I’m always the one being bullied."

Cui Dongshan let it go with a smile. He put his socks and boots back on. Damn it! If my master weren’t nearby having hotpot, watch how I’d entertain you all as host and guests!

One person, having been tipped off from within the mansion, arrived at this residence soon after.

He was a burly man wearing armor, a saber at his waist, his face full of scars. According to the fatty Gusu, his face was so ugly it could ward off evil; walking at night, he could scare ghosts.

It was Hong Chou, a sixth-realm martial artist hiding his true strength. On the current Tongye Continent, with this martial arts realm, it would be no trouble for him to secure a real military post in any court, or to become a family guest official protecting the safety of high-ranking ministers and nobles who were already jittery.

Hong Chou reached out and pressed his hand on his sword hilt. He strode forward, his footsteps crunching in the snow on the road, the sound clear in the snowy night.

He glanced around the room, his face gloomy. First, Gu Qiu had left, severing ties with them. Now another white-robed youth of unknown origin had appeared.

This infuriated Hong Chou. You slut, you have no sense of self-preservation! Do you think a registered cultivator from the mountains is someone a wild cultivator at the Cave Dwelling realm can mess with?

Qian Hou’er hurriedly stood up and squeezed over to the brazier on the other side.

Hong Chou sat down on a chair, removed the saber from his waist, held it with both hands, and squinted. "Little brother, where do you hang out?"

Cui Dongshan shook his sleeves, rubbed his palms together, blew on them, and said cheerfully, "A mountain not far from here called Xiandu Mountain. Not many people on the mountain right now, so I’m thinking of recruiting. You’ve already met my master."

Hong Chou frowned. "Who?"

Cui Dongshan grinned. "My master is right now in Miss Xiaofang’s courtyard, having hotpot and drinking with an old-timer from the jianghu."

Wang Manmeng’s eyes lit up. She smiled brightly. "Oh, that young master in the blue gown and cloth shoes? So fresh and clean, with that scholarly aura. Clearly not one of our kind."

The beauty pointed at the ceiling. "He seemed to have come down from the sky back then. You told me afterwards that he only looked young, probably a terrestrial immortal who practices age-retention techniques, someone we can’t afford to provoke. If not Golden Core, then he’s a Golden Body realm martial artist. Definitely one of the two ‘golds’—a hard nut."

Hong Chou’s arrogance instantly deflated. That time when the guy suddenly appeared, Hong Chou, who was sitting in his chair, didn’t even dare to draw his saber.

Hong Chou asked with a frown, "Is your master a pure martial artist?"

Cui Dongshan snickered. "My master is, of course, a pure martial artist, but he’s always considered himself a swordsman."

Hong Chou probed, "What realm? Golden Body realm?"

He didn’t expect the other to give an answer.

Seeing the white-robed youth extend his hand, Hong Chou asked in surprise, "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Cui Dongshan said with a grin, "Let’s make a bet. You reward me with as many Minor Heat Coins as the realm my master is in. How about that?"

Hong Chou gave a dry laugh. This guy’s got a hole in his head.

Seems Heaven is fair enough—gave him a handsome face but a brain that can’t tell its ass from its elbow.

Cui Dongshan laughed. "Then let’s change the bet. You guess my master’s realm. You can guess three times. First time, one Snowflake Coin. Second time, Minor Heat Coin. Third time, Grain Rain Coin. If you guess right, I’ll double it. If you agree, I’ll immediately sell everything I have, take out six immortal coins, and give them to Wang Manmeng for safekeeping."

Hong Chou sneered. "Did you learn this gambling technique from Qian Hou’er?"

Cui Dongshan said, "I can write the answer on a piece of paper in advance and give it to Wang Manmeng for safekeeping too. Brother Hong, it’s a sure-win deal. Want to bet? Dare to make a killing?"

Hong Chou said, "If you just write down some first or second realm, how am I supposed to guess?"

Cui Dongshan shook his head. "After Wang Manmeng sees the answer on the paper, I’ll allow her to make two eye signals to you. One to remind you whether to bet, and the other to hint whether my answer is reliable."

"Of course, we need to agree upfront: you two can’t use mental voice or gather sound into a thread. Hmm, let’s change it to a bet even more favorable for Brother Hong. The three stakes—which immortal coin you use for which guess, you can decide the order. The only requirement is that once we’re at the gambling table, we have to finish all three rounds. But, but, if you think betting a Grain Rain Coin is more than a bit of fun, you can just do two rounds."

Qian Hou’er thought it was worth a bet.

Golden Body realm, Far Travel realm, Peak realm—guess one by one, you’re bound to get one right.

The martial realms of all martial artists in the world, besides the sixth-realm minor grandmaster and the so-called three realms of Spirit Refining grandmasters, were limited.

But Hong Chou felt troubled, because he knew that above the Peak realm there was also the legendary Stopping realm.

That blue-robed young man was definitely not a sixth-realm martial artist. Hong Chou was sure of that. Since he could "descend from the sky," he was either a Golden Body realm martial artist who had leaped from a distant spot in the city, or he was a Feather Transformation realm martial artist who could travel underground. So with three kinds of immortal coins, you had to bet on four possibilities. If there were no Stopping realm, it would indeed be a sure-win bet.

For example, Hong Chou could first spend a Snowflake Coin betting that the youth’s master was at Peak realm. Then use a Minor Heat Coin to bet on Golden Body realm.

If he won, it would be just for fun, pocketing an extra Snowflake Coin. Why not?

Because deep down, Hong Chou felt that the blue-robed man who looked young had a certain possibility of being a Far Travel grandmaster.

Hong Chou said, "You’re on!"

Cui Dongshan pulled a piece of paper from his sleeve and shook it vigorously. "Qian Hou’er, quick! Bring me brush and ink! If Brother Cui makes some money, I’ll give you one Snowflake Coin."

Qian Hou’er promptly stood up and went to his own room to fetch brush and ink, mouthing "no need, no need."

The white-robed youth said in mock surprise, "Oh, no need? Then forget it. Oh, and remember to dip the brush in ink for me."

Qian Hou’s face stiffened, and he wanted to slap himself.

Cui Dongshan reached into his sleeve and pulled out six immortal coins, clenching them in his fist. "Sister, this is my entire fortune. Make sure you hold on to them!"

Hong Chou squinted. This guy actually had two Grain Rain Coins!

Wang Manmeng extended her fair, delicate hand. "Sister manages the money. You can rest easy."

The white-robed youth finally let go.

Wang Manmeng received the immortal coins in her palm, cursing inwardly. Damned registered immortal master, so rich!

All alone, traveling abroad, he could casually pull out two Grain Rain Coins. A Grain Rain Coin was equal to a full thousand Snowflake Coins!

Qian Hou’er came back with a bamboo-tube brush dipped full of ink, the kind with inscriptions on it. In the city, these were the cheapest items, scattered everywhere in the houses. Over the past half year, he had collected several hundred of them.

The white-robed youth turned his back, curled up, wrote a few words, then crumpled the paper into a ball, holding it in his palm. As he handed it to Wang Manmeng, he reminded her, "When you unfold the paper, remember to turn your back like I did. Don’t let Brother Hong see it."

Afterwards, Wang Manmeng followed the agreement. She first turned her back, carefully unfolded the paper, read the content, paused, took a deep breath, then crumbled it again. Facing Hong Chou, with a strange expression, she gave an eye signal and nodded.

She indicated that Hong Chou could bet; the youth hadn’t written nonsense.

The white-robed youth suddenly gave a light shout, his eyes full of grievance and immense injury. "My dear good sister! If you keep favoring outsiders like this, you’ll break my heart."

Wang Manmeng’s face flushed with embarrassment. She had to withdraw some subtle little move she thought was imperceptible.

If he lost the bet and Hong Chou reneged, she would also be in a difficult position.

If Hong Chou was tempted by the money and turned violent, Gu Qiu—who was almost a prefectural City God—and the ghost girl Xiaofang would certainly not stand idly by. Hong Chou was just a sixth-realm martial artist; he wouldn’t dare to suddenly kill and blackmail all six of Cui Dongshan’s immortal coins. Besides, not to mention Cui Dongshan’s master, even the old man who claimed to come from Vase Bottle Continent was no simpleton. So at worst, Hong Chou could make a big fuss and get back three immortal coins?

To tell the truth, after those night-trials at the City God Temple, Wang Manmeng and her gang of desperados really didn’t dare to act so recklessly anymore.

The white-robed youth suddenly looked at Qian Hou’er and the other three. "You all can bet too! Two or three rounds, all using Snowflake Coins. How about it?"

Qian Hou’er wasn’t interested; he just smiled placatingly and said nothing. But the others seemed eager until Hong Chou turned his head and gave them a cold look, and they all backed down.

Then Hong Chou took out a Snowflake Coin and tossed it to Cui Dongshan.

The white-robed youth caught the coin with both hands, raised it high over his head, and started muttering—probably praying to Heaven for luck?

Hong Chou said in a deep voice, "Golden Body realm."

Cui Dongshan’s face was full of panic.

Hong Chou was startled. Had he guessed the realm and won already?

Wang Manmeng instinctively wanted to react but found the white-robed youth staring at her intently. She had no choice but to set her face and shake her head. "Not Golden Body realm."

Hong Chou then took out a Minor Heat Coin he had treasured for years, no longer pretending to casually toss it. He handed it over.

Cui Dongshan rubbed the Minor Heat Coin between his palms and laughed loudly. "Profit, profit!"

Then he pinched the Minor Heat Coin between two fingers, raised it high, and shook it back and forth. "Tsk tsk, first time seeing a Minor Heat Coin! So happy, so happy!"

Qian Hou’er and the others were speechless. This guy was shamelessly lying through his teeth.

Hong Chou’s forehead broke out in a fine sweat. He said, "Feather Transformation realm."

Cui Dongshan flipped up one of his white sleeves, tossed the Minor Heat Coin inside, and said cheekily, "Safe in the bag, counting my chickens."

Wang Manmeng sighed. "Not Far Travel realm."

Hong Chou glared at her, a trace of anger in his eyes. Damn it, could this woman be colluding with an outsider to cheat him?

Wang Manmeng got annoyed and rolled her eyes.

Cui Dongshan crossed his arms over his chest, snickering. "Brother Hong, do you want to bet a third time? Bigger bet, bigger win. For us gamblers, if you don’t have guts, you won’t get rich. Take a gamble—a few acres of land can turn into a mountain peak!"

Hong Chou said, "I don’t have a Grain Rain Coin on me."

Cui Dongshan laughed. "You don’t have to pay right away. You can owe it. I’ll come check the accounts tomorrow morning. Brother Hong, you can borrow from sister and the others. Scrape together enough to equal one Grain Rain Coin. It’s just a drizzle."

Hong Chou was caught in a dilemma. If he lost, he’d have worked half a year for nothing. But what if he won?

The white-robed youth crossed his legs, tapping his boot on the rim of the brazier. "Sister, take out those two Grain Rain Coins. They’re about to go into Brother Hong’s pocket."

Hong Chou suddenly stood up, snorted, and strode out.

Qian Hou’er and the others were dumbfounded. Wasn’t there only the Peak realm left? Why didn’t he dare bet? Had Hong Chou gotten his head stuck in a door on the way here?

They noticed that the moment Hong Chou crossed the threshold, the white-robed youth immediately started sweating profusely. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and explained, "Hot. The weather is a bit hot."

Hong Chou paused for a moment, hesitated, then still left the mansion.

After retrieving the crumpled paper and the six immortal coins from Wang Manmeng, the white-robed youth said in a serious tone, "Brothers, take some advice from your little brother. Big bet, small bet, winning or losing, it’s all money that comes through the side door—hard to keep. Just play for fun. But, of course, if side-door money comes in and you’re willing to send it out through the front door, that’s a good deed. They say charity money is hard to part with. If you can part with charity money, you’re accumulating blessings for your family."

Wang Manmeng couldn’t stand these cheap, empty maxims. She was annoyed, but still her face was enchantingly beautiful. "Brother Cui has good gambling skills."

Cui Dongshan praised, "That Hong Chou has some composure after all."

Wang Manmeng smiled and asked, "Gold and silver move people’s hearts. Aren’t you afraid of Hong Chou?"

Cui Dongshan said, "Not even afraid of ghosts. Why be afraid of a man?"

Wang Manmeng smiled.

Qian Hou’er ran to the door, crouched on the steps, and flicked his wrist lightly, shaking the brush a few times, leaving several ink marks in the snow. He smeared them back and forth on the snow, then squeezed the ink out of the brush tip with two fingers, like "washing the brush."

Qian Hou’er went back to his room, took out a fire striker, lit an oil lamp on the table, and gently placed the cleaned brush on the brush stand.

Suddenly, he noticed the white-robed youth standing at the door like a ghost, having arrived silently. He was leaning against the doorframe, hands tucked in his sleeves, smiling at him.

Qian Hou’er’s heart tightened. Was he picking on the softest persimmon, here to rob the house?

Cui Dongshan extended a hand from his sleeve and lightly flicked a Snowflake Coin to Qian Hou’er. "It’s not hot. Take it. Enough to buy you a bunch of brush-washers."

Qian Hou’er was baffled for a moment, then clenched the coin, which was actually quite hot, not knowing what to do. If he took it, and word got out later, Hong Chou might hold a grudge. If he didn’t take it, he might not get through this immediate situation.

Cui Dongshan walked into the room, noticed a booklet on the table, picked it up, and laughed.

It turned out that Qian Hou’er had used charcoal to draw sketches of desks, chairs, tables, flower stands, beams and brackets—over a hundred kinds in total.

Apparently, in this ghost city, he had broadened his horizons and learned something. In his spare time, he had compiled this "book."

Cui Dongshan flipped through a few pages and smiled. "With this craft, you won’t starve to death. Why would you come to a place like this? If you hadn’t been lucky and avoided the fierce ghosts, with your meager jianghu skills..."

Qian Hou’er put on a show of being a man of letters. "The horse doesn’t get fat without night feeding. As the book says, wealth is found in danger. Making a living with my craft, how much can I earn in a year? Too slow, no way to get ahead."

Cui Dongshan turned the pages. "They’re just earning money. Only you are making a living."

Qian Hou’er was confused. What difference did it make? Without money in your pocket, could you call it living?

Cui Dongshan looked up and smiled. "Qian Hou’er, do you want to come work on my mountain? I can’t promise great wealth and riches, but it’ll be better than drifting through these ghost cities day and night, with your life tied to your belt, earning death money. Too tough, and you never know if you’ll live to spend what you’ve saved."

Qian Hou’er didn’t even have to think much. He just ran the words through his mind, grinned, and said without hesitation, "Count me out. I’ve gotten used to wandering outside all my life. Dangerous, yes, but freer. Having me hole up somewhere to enjoy a leisurely life—no way."

Some ways of living were things you didn’t even dare to imagine.

This time, whether Hong Chou and Wang Manmeng parted ways, splitting into two factions, or whether everyone disbanded entirely, when they divided the spoils, he would probably get about ten Snowflake Coins. That was a full hundred thousand taels of silver! If he cut them into bits with scissors and loaded them into a dustpan, sitting on the roof and tossing them out, it’d be like a light snow. And according to Wang Manmeng, the courts of various countries were desperately in need of immortal coins, and when converted to real gold and silver, there was a considerable premium.

Cui Dongshan pulled up an old official’s chair, sat down, and crossed his legs. This made Qian Hou’er even more nervous. What was he up to?

Cui Dongshan smiled. "Now my mountain is short of hands. If you come, you’ll have a place to use your talents. Monthly salary is one Snowflake Coin. How about that? That coin just now can be your deposit."

While his master hadn’t yet returned to Fallen Mountain, he needed to grab a few able bodies. First, get them acquainted with the master, so later when the master goes into seclusion, travels far and returns home, and comes to Qingping Sword Sect again, these "newcomers" will naturally become half-familiar old faces. When they meet the master, he’ll surely be willing to chat with them. Because Cui Dongshan knew very well that the master wasn’t just connected to Xiandu Mountain. Even Fallen Mountain, now seemingly sealed but to be unsealed later—especially in the coming hundred years, several hundred years—the newcomers who come up to cultivate and practice martial arts might not be as easy to talk to. Besides, this Qian Hou’er came from charcoal-burning in his hometown, a proper kiln worker of the Green Carp Kilns. Wouldn’t he naturally feel close to the master?

Qian Hou’er gave an embarrassed chuckle. "Immortal Master Cui, don’t toy with little me."

A third-realm martial artist, besides doing odd jobs—what else could he do but be a scapegoat?

Cui Dongshan smiled. "No rush. Save you from being suspicious. Anyway, when you figure it out one day, or when you hit an insurmountable obstacle, just go to a place called Xiandu Mountain and find me. The mountain gate plaque says 'Qingping Sword Sect.' You’ll definitely recognize those characters. Xiandu Mountain isn’t far from here. Keep going south, and there’s an immortal ferry called Blue Gown Ferry. From now on, just keep an eye on the mountain-and-water gazettes."

Qian Hou’er remained bewildered even after the white-robed youth left the room.

Cui Dongshan returned to his original spot by the brazier in the main hall. The others had already gone to their respective rooms to sleep. Only Wang Manmeng still sat there waiting.

She smiled and asked, "Brother Cui, is your master really a Peak realm grandmaster?"

"No."

Wang Manmeng gave a seductive roll of her eyes. "Still trying to fool a ghost."

Why hadn’t Hong Chou dared to make the final bet?

Wang Manmeng felt that if it were her, she would absolutely dare to make that last wager.

Between the Peak realm and the Stopping realm, what was there to fear?

Cui Dongshan grinned. "Actually, my master is at the Stopping realm. But I think Brother Hong earned his money through hard work, and it’s all legitimate wealth. By seniority, he’s half my brother-in-law. He’s done so many good deeds in the city. I was planning to give him some money to spend. But he didn’t appreciate the gesture and insisted on giving money to me, his half brother-in-law. What can I do?"

Wang Manmeng actually couldn’t be bothered to guess the blue-robed man’s true realm. No matter which Spirit Refining realm he was, he was still a figure beyond her reach even if she stood on a ladder.

Don’t provoke, don’t fawn, just keep a respectful distance.

If this white-robed youth hadn’t insisted on staying, Wang Manmeng wouldn’t have wanted to stick around him, carefully parsing every word he said, even every expression and look.

Hadn’t Hong Chou already suffered for it?

"Do you know why Hong Chou didn’t dare to bet?"

"What do you mean?"

"Because Hong Chou, like you, doesn’t believe that good people get good rewards."

Wang Manmeng gave a bitter smile. "Maybe."

Cui Dongshan turned and looked at the heavy snow falling in the courtyard, the snowdrifts growing thicker. "Maybe he once believed, but then stopped believing."

After a moment of silence, he continued, "There’s no helping it. In this world, the more someone believes that good people get good rewards, the worse their life tends to be. Either they’re a naive goody-goody, or a poor one. It’s like they give up the broad highway for a single-plank bridge. They scrimp and save some money, but end up giving it all back to life, left with nothing but a bellyful of bitterness—and they don’t even want to share it with family, friends, or juniors."

Originally, she thought he was just speaking without feeling the pinch.

But after hearing this last part, Wang Manmeng’s brow relaxed. She forced a smile and said softly, "Ain’t that the truth."

Cui Dongshan smiled slightly. "The ones who hate registered cultivators the most aren’t necessarily wild cultivators—it’s often registered cultivators themselves. Because the former have long found a way to coexist with them, while the latter haven’t."

Wang Manmeng gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Cui Dongshan, stop testing me. I really don’t know why you’re haunting us like an unquiet spirit, wasting time on ants like us. But to be honest, I really don’t think that we drifters without roots are worth someone like you wasting your time. Two Grain Rain Coins—are they really that much? To us, of course they’re a lot. Over a dozen people worked half the year to earn that much. For Qian Hou’er and the others, this is probably the first time they’ve ever seen a Grain Rain Coin. But to you, two, even twenty Grain Rain Coins—what are they?"

"Qian Hou’er and the others? It’s not 'probably.' It is the first time they’ve seen a Grain Rain Coin. Unlike you and Hong Chou, when they saw the coins, their first reaction wasn’t surprise that I could produce them, but confusion—they were trying to figure out if this third kind of immortal coin was even real."

Cui Dongshan bowed his head and stooped, spread his palms, and brought them close to the charcoal fire. "You just now said 'someone like you.' What do you mean? Why do you feel that you and I are different kinds of people?"

Wang Manmeng said, "I can’t give you a specific reason. I just feel it."

Cui Dongshan asked, "Then what about my master? Do you think he and you are the same kind of person?"

Wang Manmeng said helplessly, "Is that possible?"

Cui Dongshan said nothing. The light from the charcoal fire made his handsome face even paler. He gently turned his palms over to warm them, facing upward.

Wang Manmeng asked, "How did you know that I used to have a registered status?"

Cui Dongshan grinned. "Because you’re like half a hanged ghost. The rope around your neck can’t be untied. Your hands can’t reach the beam, your feet can’t touch the ground. You haven’t died completely, but you can’t come back to life either. Stuck in between, pitiful to see."

Wang Manmeng gave a wry smile. "How am I pitiful? I don’t even feel pitiful myself."

Cui Dongshan rubbed his hands together. "The people who don’t even have the energy to feel sorry for themselves—they’re the truly pitiful ones. Helpless, no way out. What else can you do? So be it."

Wang Manmeng was silent. She imitated the white-robed youth, bowing her head and stooping, leaning toward the brazier, rubbing her hands to warm them.

Some books were too bitter to read to the end.

Wang Manmeng came from a small country in the north of Tongye Continent. The suzerain state was the behemoth known as the Yu Dynasty, once an undisputed northern power on the continent. Now restored to statehood, though severely crippled, a lean camel was still bigger than a horse.

Her master’s sect was a no-name mountain sect on Tongye Continent—not even heretical, more like vulgar and crooked. To call it heterodox wasn’t unfair, but it was wrapped in a shiny exterior. In the vassal state of the Yu Dynasty, they could throw their weight around. Many of the sect’s senior members and fellow female disciples were wives and concubines of high officials. The sect leader was an old immortal of the Dragon Gate realm, and it was rumored that a Golden Core ancestor had been in closed-door cultivation for years, so when she first joined the sect, she was full of admiration and pride.

But her sect was mostly female. Besides techniques, what the senior masters taught was bedroom arts. There were hardly a few orthodox scriptures, but plenty of erotic pictures.

Many girls who had no aptitude for cultivation were accepted as long as they were pretty.

It was said that the real backing of her sect was the Green Seal Sect, the leading immortal sect of the Yu Dynasty. One of their high-ranking money managers was a woman named Miao Yu, said to be a half-dao companion of the Green Seal Sect’s Chief Master, without formal status. Miao Yu held the financial reins, no less than the Minister of Revenue of the Yu Dynasty.

Some people, after going through hardships, always find a way out—a twist of fate, a hidden path.

But some people’s lives were like a boat run aground, the waterway thin as a thread, unable to advance or retreat, stuck in a ghostly circle.

It felt like making more mistakes the more you did, so you just gave up. It was exactly what the white-robed youth had hit on—all talk boiled down to "so be it."

She had once stood in an immortal mansion at a ferry crossing, side by side with fellow female disciples from her sect and female cultivators from other mansions. A group of haughty registered immortal masters, along with a few richly dressed scions of noble families, pointed and laughed at them, calling them "sleep-around immortals" and "mountain whores."

She had long been numb to it.

The Cave Dwelling realm—if only she could reach the Cave Dwelling realm, she could be free of this sea of suffering.

But until the cataclysm that sank an entire continent came, Wang Manmeng had never even reached Cave Dwelling. Unlike her senior sect masters who fled like beaten dogs, she felt nothing—even a bit relieved. She refused to follow her fellow disciples into the refuge of Green Seal Sect, so she seized an opportunity and slipped away. No one cared about her; they were all busy scrambling to get into the beds of Yu Dynasty’s high officials and noble families. On that road of escape, the sect’s reputation was completely ruined. It was only when the disaster was upon them that Wang Manmeng learned that her own sect had never had a Golden Core ancestor.

In Wang Manmeng’s eyes, the true way for a woman to live was probably like Huang Ting of Taiping Mountain.

Or Yao Jinzhi, the female emperor of the Daquan Dynasty. She wasn’t bad either—she could usurp the throne and become emperor herself.

Cui Dongshan looked at her and smiled. "Do you want to one day see Huang Ting and Yao Jinzhi in person? Get a close look at how they live their lives?"

Wang Manmeng snapped back to reality, startled, her face turning pale. "How did you know what I was thinking?!"

Obviously, this touched the deepest shadow in her heart. These registered cultivators with their "deep family traditions" had means of playing with people’s hearts and trampling on them that made her shudder.

Furthermore, a cultivator who could read minds was necessarily a legendary Earth Immortal at the very least.

Cui Dongshan said, "You actually know that not all registered cultivators on the mountains are vicious and heartless. But it’s just like Hong Chou: after losing two bets, you don’t dare to make a third. Your first small bet was on your initiator—that they wouldn’t leave you to die. You lost. The second bet was on your own mind, your methods, your status as a female cultivator. You temporarily swallowed your pride, endured humiliation, and believed things would improve one day. But you lost again. You saw no hope and had to resign yourself to fate."

Cui Dongshan tucked his hands into his sleeves. "There are some things I absolutely dare not say in front of my master, but with you, there are no taboos."

He pointed outside at the heavy snow. "Since ancient times, in the depths of winter, heavy snow never freezes to death a wealthy man. But that catastrophe a few years ago, which spared no emperor or general, no high official or noble family, no registered immortal master—that was different. Good people and bad, rich and poor—all suffered. But at the very least, it froze to death many people who had long deserved to die but, in our eyes, were 'unpunished by Heaven' because the wicked were not repaid."

"Still, in the eyes of the rogue cultivator Wang Manmeng, there were many who enjoyed every blessing before they died, who committed crimes in the living world, and even if they died—no matter how—it didn’t seem like a loss. So you still feel a bit aggrieved, that it wasn’t satisfying enough."

"Don’t worry too much. Down below, they’ll call out to Heaven, but Heaven won’t answer; they’ll call out to Earth, but Earth won’t respond. In repaying debts, retribution is always swift."

Wang Manmeng pressed her lips together.

A person who always wears indifference on their face might be the one who truly cares.

Just as Wang Manmeng genuinely admired Taiping Mountain, she had traveled there but didn’t dare to approach its gate.

She felt that even glancing at the three characters "Taiping Mountain" on the gate plaque would profane the mountain.

Cui Dongshan laughed. "I’m not familiar with Taiping Mountain, but my master is very good friends with its new mountain master, Huang Ting. Don’t misunderstand—it’s not the kind of relationship you’re thinking of between a man and a woman. Eh, you really need to change that habit of yours—don’t always think everything is about sex. Now, my master is also a nominal guest retainer of Taiping Mountain. So if you want to go cultivate there, I can ask my master to recommend you to Huang Ting. Rest assured, I am my master’s prized student. And for my master, anything he agrees to, he can accomplish."

Wang Manmeng was nearly driven mad by this white-robed youth. She looked exhausted and said weakly, "Cui Dongshan, what are you really thinking? And what do you want?"

She didn’t think he was attracted to her beauty and wanted to sleep with her—with this "youth’s" appearance, it was hard to say who would be sleeping with whom.

Cui Dongshan turned his palms over again and said with self-deprecation, "I have indeed been thinking about why we think, and how we think. These two questions have troubled us for years."

Back in Yang Family Shop, with the old man the master had called "Grandpa Yang," Cui Chen had had a frank conversation.

Old Man Yang asked how that matter was going. Coincidentally, it was almost exactly the question Wang Manmeng had inadvertently asked tonight.

Once upon a time, Cui Chen had split his soul in two. Cui Chen observed Cui Dongshan’s thoughts: on any given day, the fewest were two, the most over seventy thousand. Conversely, Cui Dongshan observed Cui Chen: the fewest were three, the most eighty thousand. The "two" had their respective strengths and weaknesses—comparing fewer, they differed by one; comparing more, by ten thousand.

One must realize that this "initiation of thought" was not the Daoist’s "detached sitting and forgetting," nor the Buddhist’s meditation and contemplation. If it were, Qi practitioners in seclusion, sinking their minds in deep concentration, could easily restrain their thoughts.

As for ordinary mortals, if they mistakenly thought that sleeping meant no thoughts arising, they would be gravely mistaken.

Cui Dongshan smiled slightly. "Sleeping is sleeping and waking. The sleeping is of the physical body—a rest for the seven corporeal souls. The waking is of the mind—the three spiritual souls. Many people, when they wake, remember vague dreams. Others mistakenly believe they slept without dreaming. For example, many people in dreams experience a feeling of falling off a cliff—that is actually a mild conflict between soul and spirit. The reason humans became the lords of all beings, at root, lies in 'having dreams.' Compared to demon cultivators, this is an innate 'dream-acquiring' enlightenment. Compared to human Qi practitioners, the resilient true bodies of demons are both their foundation for survival on Earth and a solid cage."

Cui Dongshan had plans. For his nine personal disciples—such as the porcelain doll Gaodi, Xie Xie, Hu Chuling, Jiang Qu—he would classify them, teach according to their aptitude, impart everything to them, and nurture them carefully with great patience.

He would also take on another nine merely nominal direct disciples. This kind of disciple-taking would be very casual, based only on affinity and mood. It could be Qian Hou’er, it could be Wang Manmeng, who was eighty years old and only at Cave Dwelling realm, or even Hong Chou, a sixth-realm martial artist nearing fifty. Relatively speaking, Hong Chou’s martial arts aptitude wasn’t too bad—he just lacked a good teacher. Otherwise, breaking into the seventh realm wouldn’t be hard. After all, any Golden Body realm martial artist under Heaven, whether paper-tiger or bamboo-mat, could be considered touched by martial fortune.

Wang Manmeng couldn’t understand a thing he was saying. She suddenly asked a strange question that seemed completely off-topic. "With so many dead people, can they really manage them all?"

Cui Dongshan smiled. "They can, and there are almost no mistakes."

Wang Manmeng shook her head, clearly unconvinced. "Does the underworld capital Fengdu have hundreds of thousands, even millions of netherworld officials, clerks, and ghost messengers?"

Take the City God temples. Within a single nation, from the Capital City God down to the prefectural, county, and district levels, how many were there in total?

Cui Dongshan smiled gently. "The main function of City God temples in various places is still primarily to guide the dead—the first trial. Mostly, they record merits and demerits in registers, much like the land registration office in the mortal court. As for Fengdu, the number of various ghost messengers—even adding some temporary official posts, similar to new examination graduates ‘walking’ in various ministries of the mortal court—the total is indeed considerable, but far from the exaggerated hundreds of thousands. And they don’t need that many. As to the specifics of how it runs, it’s simple: one temple after another, like mortals living their days, passing one year-end after another. It’s also very complicated. If you dig into it, the rules are intricate and precise. Generally speaking, they use a few fundamental, underlying, unshakable rules to support hundreds and thousands of fine, clearly defined rules. The former allow slight adjustments in the latter. Thanks to this clear trunk and distinct veins, for ten thousand years, the underworld has always been orderly, with clear rewards and punishments. Of course, some of the final evaluations of merits and demerits are still hard for mortals to understand. Wang Manmeng, if you’re really interested in these details, you can ask Gu Qiu. He is now an alternate prefectural City God. In the future, Gu Qiu may even have a chance to become the City God of the new Dayuan Dynasty’s capital."

Wang Manmeng was skeptical. "How do you know all these inside details? Did you read them in some obscure book of strange tales?"

Cui Dongshan laughed. "Because I’ve been to Fengdu."

Prefectural, county, and prefectural City God temples; Capital City God temples; at each level, civil and military judges, various departmental gods, plus Ox and Horse Generals, Day and Night Wandering Spirits, Shackle and Chain Generals—these were the standing official posts of a City God temple, similar to the major officials of a mortal court. The rest were clerks and ghost messengers. The size of a City God temple mainly depended on the number of departmental offices. Small ones had only three or six departments; larger ones, like this prefectural temple, had as many as twelve. The capitals of various countries had temples with either twenty-four departments, like Daquan Dynasty and Yu Dynasty, which had temples with thirty-six departments.

And within the Lingzhi Dynasty of the Central Earth Divine Continent, there was the number one City God temple under Heaven, with as many as sixty-two departments.

That City God, whose divine rank equaled that of the Five Sacred Mountains and the Four Sea Lords of the Central Earth, was surnamed Zhou, named Fangyu—the 'Zhou' of uprightness, the 'Fangyu' of the four directions. He was responsible for guarding the Central Earth Divine Continent and protecting the peace of one continent. Under his command were four divine generals, surnamed Gan, Liu, Fan, and Xie.

Wang Manmeng couldn’t help chuckling. "Brother Cui talks big again."

Cui Dongshan let it go with a smile.

If those same words were spoken by his master, who wouldn’t believe them?

Sure enough, being too charming wasn’t good.

Cui Dongshan said abruptly, "Hong Chou was never supposed to take a single Grain Rain Coin away from here."

Wang Manmeng asked timidly, "And me?"

Cui Dongshan smiled. "You’re fine."

Wang Manmeng sighed softly. Should she warn Hong Chou tomorrow? Forget it. That immortal coin, barring accidents, would be his foundation for standing in the new Dayuan Dynasty, a stepping stone to official advancement. If she actually opened her mouth, she’d probably just get a blistering scolding from Hong Chou. He’d suspect she was changing sides and cozying up to a pretty boy. Maybe he was already in the opposite mansion, stewing in his own resentment, wondering if she and Cui Dongshan had set a trap to cheat him out of his money.

Cui Dongshan glanced at Wang Manmeng and grinned. "Oh, by the way, my use of 'take away' is probably very different from what you think."

Wang Manmeng covered her mouth and giggled, throwing a bewitching sidelong glance his way.

Cui Dongshan laughed and cursed. "Damn it, what are you thinking? If you ever meet our old cook and Brother Dafeng, you’d have a lot to talk about. Definitely a lot!"

Wang Manmeng interlaced her fingers, raised them above her head, and stretched.

"It’s hard to be a good person. After seeing bad people, if you want to follow their example, you find you can’t even be bad enough. That’s a dilemma."

Having dispensed his wisdom, Cui Dongshan then teased, "Good sister, frown less and sigh less. If you always look miserable, you’ll develop a bitter face. Smile more every day. Since you were born a beauty, why contort your brows so sadly? It doesn’t make sense."

Wang Manmeng said, "Brother Cui’s learning is profound, but he’s truly bad at consoling people."

Cui Dongshan nodded. "True."

Cui Dongshan blinked. "Wang Manmeng, how about we play a game?"

Wang Manmeng’s heart tightened. "A duel of immortals?"

Cui Dongshan rolled his eyes. "If you keep talking like that, it’s no fun."

If you dared to speak to my master like that, that would be real guts!

Then Cui Dongshan cheerfully pulled out a Minor Heat Coin from his sleeve, the one he had just won from Hong Chou. "There’s money to be made—at least a Minor Heat Coin, practically a gift to sister. The game is simple. You don’t have to say anything. Just think of people from your past, let them pass through your mind. Don’t worry about their identities or how many times you’ve met them. As long as you can recall them, no matter how vague, the more the better. The more you think of, the more you earn. Over a hundred, and you get this Minor Heat Coin. Over five hundred, I’ll give you another. Over a thousand, another Minor Heat Coin. How’s that? Isn’t it a good deal with no capital? If you exceed three thousand, not counting the previous ones, I’ll give you a Grain Rain Coin."

As he spoke, Cui Dongshan twisted his wrist, and two empty go-game bowls appeared. He withdrew his hand, suspended the bowls in midair, and signaled with his eyes for Wang Manmeng to start earning.

Wang Manmeng’s face was full of hesitation. After a moment of silence, she asked, "Is it really that simple?"

Cui Dongshan ignored her, not bothering to respond. He simply pressed two fingers together as if picking up a stone, and soon several white stones condensed at his fingertips. One by one, he tossed them into one of the bowls.

Clearly, during her silence, Wang Manmeng had involuntarily thought of a few "old acquaintances," and Cui Dongshan "plucked" them, manifesting them as go stones.

An old bastard had once had a conjecture, inspired by the celestial demons beyond the sky. They could both transform into billions and merge into one.

So Cui Chen hypothesized that the thoughts of all sentient beings under Heaven originated from the same "pool."

Every thought was a "spark" leaping out of the water.

Wang Manmeng considered it. She didn’t think her random musings could affect her current situation. Maybe she could really earn three Minor Heat Coins for nothing?

After that, the number of white stones in the bowl increased, but black stones also began to appear, which Cui Dongshan dropped into the other bowl.

Wang Manmeng had no energy left for shock. Whatever. Today, she had already seen too many miraculous things from Cui Dongshan. Strange things were no longer strange. Just get used to it.

Because every time she happened to recall a vague figure, the stone that condensed at the white-robed youth’s fingertips would be black.

In the hall, only their brazier occasionally crackled with charcoal. Outside, the snow was falling heavier. The snow in the courtyard could definitely cover the ankles.

Cui Dongshan sat cross-legged on his chair. Wang Manmeng began to rack her brain, thinking of those "passersby" on her path through life—those she had met a few times, those she had brushed past but whose faces she remembered due to some distinct feature, old folks from her childhood village, maybe a rice porter with thick cotton padding on his shoulder, or peers from before she climbed the mountain, who used to steal glances at her…

The two bowls accumulated black and white stones.

As Wang Manmeng’s thinking slowed, Cui Dongshan leaned on the armrest of his chair, propped his cheek on one hand, and kept the other hand extended, suspended in midair.

Wang Manmeng rubbed her brow. "How many is it now?"

Cui Dongshan said softly, "You’ve already earned three Minor Heat Coins. But that extra Grain Rain Coin is really hard to earn. The gap is still quite big. Maybe think a little harder?"

Wang Manmeng said helplessly, "I can’t think of anyone else."

Cui Dongshan smiled. "People from portraits or books count too."

Wang Manmeng, as if suddenly enlightened, thought of several hundred more "painted figures."

Cui Dongshan glanced at the bowl. "You can also add names you’ve heard—emperors, generals, monks’ titles are fine. Of course, don’t just make up random names to trick me, or I’ll deduct a stone."

So Wang Manmeng started racking her brain again, thinking of people she had heard of.

The peak cultivators of the Haoran world, the saints of the Confucian Temple, the successive patriarchs and guest elders of Tongye Continent’s major sects, the high officials and nobles of various countries, the famous pure martial artists, even the great demons of the Barbaric Wild Continent…

Cui Dongshan gave a light laugh, quickly flicking his wrist and casually tossing handfuls of stones into the bowls.

This kind of bet, he couldn’t play with his master, nor with his senior sister. Especially Senior Sister—she would probably make him, the little junior brother, cry poor.

Wang Manmeng was already drenched in sweat. A cultivator at Cave Dwelling realm was actually starting to feel dizzy. She asked in a trembling voice, "Is it enough?"

Cui Dongshan said with a smile, "Enough. It’s been enough for a while."

Wang Manmeng was dumbfounded.

Cui Dongshan took out one Grain Rain Coin and four Minor Heat Coins and tossed them all to Wang Manmeng. "The extra Minor Heat Coin is a gift from me."

Wang Manmeng slumped back against her chair, mentally exhausted.

Cui Dongshan chuckled. "How about we add the names of the world’s great rivers, mountains, and immortal mansions? If you can gather eight thousand stones in total, I’ll give you another Grain Rain Coin."

Wang Manmeng’s face paled. She shook her head. "I can’t think anymore."

Cui Dongshan said cheerfully, "Exhausting, isn’t it? More than a duel between immortals?"

Wang Manmeng wiped the sweat from her forehead. Lying limp, she barely forced a smile, no longer willing to speak.

Cui Dongshan flicked his sleeves, and both go bowls vanished into thin air.

Wang Manmeng had earned a fair amount, but Cui Dongshan might not have earned a little either. The content carried by those stones would be useful in the future when he needed to dig great rivers.

As for entering someone’s heart and lake of consciousness, carefully rummaging through their memories—Cui Dongshan could certainly do it with ease, familiar with the path. But it wasn’t as complete as Wang Manmeng actively laying everything out on the table, like bamboo tubes pouring beans, spilling everything into the go bowls.

Cui Dongshan tucked his hands into his sleeves. "Wang Manmeng, you should read more books in the future. Who knows when it might translate into real gold and silver?"

Wang Manmeng spread her palm and stared blankly at the five immortal coins. She looked up, her voice hoarse. "Cui Dongshan, you are a registered cultivator, aren’t you?"

Cui Dongshan nodded. "I told you. I’m a sect master."

Actually, the extra Minor Heat Coin Cui Dongshan gave was only because Wang Manmeng had unintentionally mentioned his master. When the student heard that, he was delighted and very happy.

Wang Manmeng clenched her fist. "You’re not going to take it back, are you?"

Cui Dongshan sucked in a breath. Good question!

If his master weren’t nearby, Cui Dongshan would not mind taking it all back.

Cui Dongshan waved his hand. "Put it away quickly, before I change my mind."

Wang Manmeng murmured, "Tonight feels like a dream."

Cui Dongshan turned and leaned against the armrest, gazing out at the heavy snow. He said softly, "If a person doesn’t even dare to dream, how bitter must life be? In the past, I left, flowers like snow. Now I come, snow like flowers. Beautiful scenes never disappoint. But how can we set an infinite mind at peace? Maybe all of us are entangled with this world like lovers, snarling at it like enemies, talking to ourselves like deaf men and blind men. Facing the people we have nothing to say to and the people we cannot speak of, we stare at each other, speechless."

Wang Manmeng could only remain silent.

Cui Dongshan was quiet for a moment, then turned his head and complained, "Ah, won’t you even cheer? Applaud? Not even a nod? No support at all."

Wang Manmeng was about to speak her mind when Cui Dongshan craned his neck to look outside, then made a surprised "eh" sound. "All the talents gather here. So lively?"

He quickly stood up, flapping his white sleeves so they crackled. "Sister, let’s go. Call Qian Hou’er. We’re going back to our old trade—highway robbery!"

Wang Manmeng had no choice but to swallow the heartfelt words that had reached her lips. "Even Qian Hou’er has never done such a thing."

"Never done? What’s wrong with that?"

Cui Dongshan shook his sleeves. "From now on, follow Dongshan and eat nine meals a day!"

Wang Manmeng stood up and suddenly said, "Cui Dongshan, I just remembered a line of poetry."

Cui Dongshan smiled. "Is it Chengzhai’s line, ‘I love best the snow after a clear day on East Mountain’?"

Wang Manmeng was utterly helpless.

With him, it was like she wasn’t even wearing clothes.

Cui Dongshan clasped his hands behind his head and ambled out of the house. "Good poem, good poem. I love best the snow after a clear day on East Mountain. East Mountain loves best the snow after a clear day."

Wang Manmeng followed behind the white-robed youth. Cui Dongshan brought his feet together and hopped outside, then asked casually, "Wang Manmeng, in your hometown, is there a custom? Unmarried girls, in the March spring breeze, should comb their hair a hundred or two hundred strokes every morning?"

Wang Manmeng shook her head. "No."

Cui Dongshan clicked his tongue. "A pity, a pity."

Suddenly, he bellowed, "Qian Hou’er! Stop staring at those erotic pictures you’ve worn out! What’s the point?"

Qian Hou’er quickly emerged from his room, looking embarrassed. "No, no. Nothing of the sort."

Cui Dongshan jerked his chin toward the house. Qian Hou’er froze for a moment, then caught on and grinned. He went to the brazier, took the tongs, and covered the charcoal with ash.

Wang Manmeng turned to look at the thin man crouched by the brazier. For some reason, she suddenly found him both pitiable and respectable. She shook her head and laughed. He was just ugly.

Cui Dongshan reached out to catch snowflakes, then told Wang Manmeng to go fetch the others in the mansion. In the name of strength in numbers, to boost morale.

Wang Manmeng walked in the snow. Qian Hou’er crouched by the brazier.

Cui Dongshan stood on the steps.

Just now, it was as if Cui Dongshan had found another key to a door, recalling some sealed-away past events related to himself—or rather, related to that old bastard.

Still in that tall building by Book Basket Lake.

Cui Chen had asked him.

In scholarship and self-cultivation, could he be like Qi Jingchun? Could he possibly establish a school and become a patriarch?

In sword practice, within a hundred years, could he match Zuo You in speed of breakthrough and skill?

In martial arts and fist techniques, how long would he need to barely catch up with Jun Qian?

At that time, Cui Dongshan had lain on the ground, and Cui Chen had given the answer.

Barring accidents, he would be a little like each of them, but in the end, he would be nothing like any of them—a freak of nature.

I want him to completely fail to become Qi Jingchun, to nip that hope in the bud early.

Cui Dongshan had asked him, "Is there no other way?"

Cui Chen hadn’t even deigned to answer.

In truth, Cui Dongshan knew well that any other way would be too late.

His master would be too late to travel the world leisurely as a Haoran Confucian scholar under the protection of the Old Scholar of the Wen Sheng lineage and his senior brothers. Too late to gradually refine his many principles through the ancient magnificent landscapes and the myriad strange people and events. Too late for a former sandal-clad boy to slowly grow up, relying on a golden civil courage, books of sages, and principles from books to refine his Life-Thread characters. Too late to forge his two flying swords, First Dawn and Full Moon, into Life-Thread items. To cultivate both swordsmanship and martial arts step by step, steadily climbing higher, forming a Golden Core, becoming a terrestrial immortal, reaching the Upper Five Realms, the Ascension realm, and realizing the Dao…

So at that time, Cui Dongshan had asked one last question.

"Aren’t you afraid he will become a second Yu Dou?"

Cui Chen had been silent for the first time, without giving an answer. Perhaps, given the situation then, saying yes or no, and the respective good and bad of both, would have been premature.

Because in the old days, Yu Dou had roamed the world with four close friends. Two of them had died at Yu Dou's own hands.

That meant that a similar ordeal to Book Basket Lake—a test of conscience—Yu Dou had gone through it once. After walking through it once, walking through it again, and countless times thereafter, the result was always the same.

Now, among the ten candidates for the Celestial Seat in the Azure Green World, there was a female sword immortal at the Ascension realm, Baolin. What made her most famous in the world wasn’t her realm or her status as a pure sword cultivator, but the fact that she had several times challenged the Second Director of the White Jade Pavilion, Yu Dou, who was called "Truly Invincible."

And Baolin’s reason for challenging Yu Dou was known to all: she had been one of the four companions, and her dao partner had been personally killed by Yu Dou’s sword.

Thus, the first time Baolin challenged Yu Dou, her reason was: "In all the world, anyone may kill him, but you, Yu Dou, cannot!"

Hence, even the Taoist Sun of Xuan Du Monastery, when discussing whether Yu Dou had any selfishness, had to admit: Yu Dou has no selfishness. In this matter, that was beyond doubt, impossible to curse.

In the Azure Green World, anyone who violated the prohibitions, regardless of identity, realm, or reason—whether they could be killed or not killed—died without exception.

And the number of Daoist officials, cultivators, and ordinary mortals who had died like this over thousands of years, across the fourteen prefectures of the Azure Green World—was it tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? A million, even millions? No one had ever bothered to count. Because in the face of Yu Dou, all that was meaningless and useless.

It wasn’t a question of right and wrong. It was simply a question of the human heart.

To all the living people around those who died—what had they thought? How had they felt? In the eyes of history, those questions were not question marks; they had already become periods. In the history books, which were already stingy with words, there wasn’t a single character about it. The dead and the living around them at the time of death—they were like the blank spaces between characters. Among all the book-flippers in the world, who paid attention to the blank spaces on the page?

So Cui Chen was gambling.

He was betting that Chen Ping’an would not become a second Yu Dou.

Cui Dongshan extended a palm and muttered, as if slapping someone, repeating the same phrase: "Old bastard."

Protector? Among all protectors, your method is the most novel. Embroidered Tiger? Embroidered Tiger? If you have the skill, live a few more years and go show off in the Azure Green World.

In an instant, Cui Dongshan shuddered. He quickly withdrew his hand and pressed it against his brow. Because an unexpected thought had just surfaced.

Actually, it was just a word: Chang Geng.

Cui Dongshan frowned deeply, stuck his hands in his sleeves, hesitated, but refrained