Chapter 976: Refining the Sword Is a Distant Journey
Red Candle Town still had a strong festive atmosphere in the first month. As a vital commercial hub, many prefectures and commanderies of Big Li had established guild halls here. Old faces with new spring couplets—everyone was joyous.
A young bookshop proprietor was currently lying on a rattan chair, dozing off. As for matters concerning the water mansion, he had left them all to his assistant officers and minor clerks to handle. He was imitating Falling Mountain's Chen Peak Master, playing the role of a hands-off shopkeeper.
Someone who had traveled a long distance crossed the threshold, smiling and cupping his fists, offering a pleasant greeting: "Shopkeeper Li, a prosperous opening, wishing you a booming business, thriving and flourishing."
Li Jin spotted Chen Ping'an, sitting up from the rattan chair. Since both knew each other's backgrounds well, Li Jin didn't bother with excessive formalities. He didn't even rise to greet him, merely returning the salute: "Business is indeed doing well."
Chen Ping'an was happy that Li Jin took him so casually; it made him feel more at ease. He entered the bookshop, scanned the shelves for a few moments, then his gaze stopped at one spot. He asked, "This set of 'Twenty-Seven Histories and Hundred Generals' Biographies'—why is one volume missing?"
In the trade of collecting, besides rarity and excellence, completeness was also essential. If a set was incomplete, the price couldn't go up. Here, it was simply missing the second volume. Li Jin's business acumen was quite seasoned; ordinarily, he shouldn't have made such a losing deal.
"It was taken a liking to by an old friend. The shop made an exception and didn't charge him."
Li Jin didn't beat around the bush and gave an explanation. After all, this young Hidden Official and the Falling Mountain that seemed to have finally emerged into the sky after the clouds parted—they had bestowed upon him, Li Jin, an extremely rare "kindness of transmitting the Dao." First, Zhu Lian had given him two paintings, and then Chen Ping'an himself had helped with the gilding and sealing, which was tantamount to granting Li Jin a huge fortune akin to "a carp leaping over the Dragon Gate." This bond of incense and fire, as the Water God of Chongdan River, Li Jin knew he wouldn't be able to repay for quite some time. It would have to be a slow and steady process, taking it step by step.
Chen Ping'an pondered for a moment, recalling the contents of the first and third volumes, and instantly understood in his heart.
The guest who could make Li Jin make an exception was most likely the Prefecture City God "Zhang Ping." In the past, he was the Earth God of the Mantou Mountain shrine. In the officialdom of Big Li's landscape, his promotions had been by several levels at once, a truly extraordinary elevation. If anyone believed that the current Chuzhou City God "Zhang Ping" didn't have some profound Dao foundations shrouded in mist, who would believe it? Although Wei Bo had never revealed the other's true background, in a few casual conversations, whenever Zhang Ping came up, the Northern Marchmount Lord Wei Bo, while his words could be evasive, his expression was the answer. Falling Mountain and Zhang Ping's City God Temple were close neighbors in the landscape, so Chen Ping'an naturally paid close attention. He had looked up quite a bit of lore about the ancient Shu region, especially the archives of the historical Divine Water Kingdom. Moreover, there was that incense-and-fire little fellow from the Prefecture City God Temple who had formed a bond with Falling Mountain. Little Rice often mentioned him—for many years, rain or shine, he had shown up on time for roll call with utmost sincerity. From her, he had taken over the position of Right Guardian of Qilong Lane... So Chen Ping'an had long heard of that vermilion-robed boy but had never met him, which was a pity. This time returning home, Chen Ping'an planned to definitely have a good chat with that little fellow who was dead set on becoming the Chief Guardian of Qilong Lane.
Li Jin smiled slightly. "May I ask Peak Master Chen to see but not expose?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. After a moment's hesitation, he said via mind voice: "I ask that the shopkeeper convey a message to City God Zhang. Tell him that if there's an opportunity in the future, I will help him request a military treatise with personal annotations from someone. However, I cannot guarantee this matter. I can only say I will try my best. If it doesn't work out, tell City God Zhang not to be too disappointed. Let's set a hundred years as the deadline for now."
In the Dark Green Heaven, the New Year's Eve Watchman of the Suichu Palace had once been the young proprietor of the Stork Inn on Daoxuan Mountain. Chen Ping'an was indeed quite familiar with him. If it weren't for the fact that on the Night Boat, Wu Shuangjiang had leaked heavenly secrets, he would never have imagined that Bai Luo of Suichu Palace was one of the companion deities in the Martial Temple that had been a god of slaughter. Only because of "excessive killing and flawed achievements" had his divine seat been moved from the main hall where the ten wise men of the Martial Temple were enshrined, downgraded to one of the two side corridors, and eventually he was merely ranked as a fourth-class famous general.
Li Jin showed a rarely seen expression of shock. "That's possible?"
In Zhang Ping's own words, he wasn't even worthy of holding this person's horse.
Li Jin tentatively asked, "How about adding me as well?"
Chen Ping'an nodded with a smile. "Again, no guarantee."
Li Jin waved his hand generously. "If you see any book you like, just take it. Since I've already broken the rules, it doesn't matter anymore from now on."
Chen Ping'an laughed. "No hurry. I'll have Li Huai come here to pick books later. But it's settled—if he likes something, he can take it freely. Don't go back on your word."
Li Jin was momentarily speechless. That tiger-headed, tiger-brained little brat from back then—he clearly wasn't the scholarly type, yet he had exceptionally good luck. Li Jin had learned that lesson long ago.
Chen Ping'an reminded him, "If I really manage to get that military treatise for you, don't turn around and put it in the shop waiting for the best offer. That wouldn't be appropriate."
Li Jin laughed. "Even if Peak Master Chen doesn't agree, if Zhang Ping finds out, he'll tear down my bookshop, snatch the book, and then cut ties with me."
Chen Ping'an raised a hand and gestured. "I have a good memory. I'll consider all the books in the shop right now as sealed and untouched. Brother Li Jin, don't think of moving the books overnight, especially finding a few accomplices to pretend to buy books and then secretly ship them to the water mansion. That kind of trick can't be done—it's too immoral."
Li Jin lay back on the rattan chair, waving his hand toward the door. "I won't see you out. I won't see you out."
Chen Ping'an didn't leave immediately. He teased, "Oh? What's this—giving the guest the order to leave?"
Li Jin began to close his eyes and rest.
Chen Ping'an looked around the shop. He had actually seriously thought about this before—becoming a bookshop proprietor one day, making a living selling books.
After withdrawing his gaze, he smiled. "Whenever you have time, come sit at Falling Mountain."
Li Jin nodded. "When I'm free, I will."
Chen Ping'an couldn't help but say, "Free? Brother Li Jin, do you ever have a busy day? That's quite a high air you have there—a real big shot."
Li Jin opened his eyes. "I'm afraid that if I get too familiar, everyone will be as disrespectful as Peak Master Chen. Zhu Lian, Zheng Dafeng from the old days, that Priest Xianwei who loves to haggle now, and Zhou Junchen from Qilong Lane who likes to buy on credit—they'll all come here to haul books up the mountain."
Chen Ping'an said helplessly, "It's understandable if outsiders misunderstand, but Brother Li Jin knows our Falling Mountain. I'm used to being a hands-off shopkeeper, and I can't control them."
Li Jin chuckled. "I know what's what."
Leaving the bustling Red Candle Town, Chen Ping'an headed to Qidun Mountain. At the shrine there, he found the Mountain God Song Yuzhang and had a drinking session. What they talked about were all past matters. The mountain god, mocked by his landscape colleagues as "Song the Gold Head," was somewhat surprised today because Chen Ping'an took the initiative to ask about many old people and old events from the kilns—all things from when Song Yuzhang had served as the supervisor of manufacture. Since Chen Ping'an had been an apprentice kiln worker, talking about this came naturally without any gap. The drinking session was very enjoyable for both parties. They drank by themselves, without anyone urging each other on. That kind of drinking can easily make one drunk. In the end, watching that azure-clad man stagger out of the shrine's guest hall, Song Yuzhang felt a multitude of emotions. If someone thirty years ago, with foresight, had said that the orphan named Chen Ping'an from Clay Vase Alley in the small town would achieve great things, Song Yuzhang would have dismissed it as a joke that went in one ear and out the other.
In early spring, the breeze was warm and sunny. The beautiful sunlight and radiance cascaded, and mist enveloped the fragrant trees. The air was filled with the unique fragrance of grass and trees in the mountains, refreshing the heart.
Chen Ping'an didn't bother to dissipate the smell of alcohol. After passing Qidun Mountain, his mind stirred. He lightly tapped his toes, leaped high into the air like a bird, and darted through the forests and mountains. He stopped on a branch of a green pine. The azure robe matched the ancient pine in color. His two sleeves slowly hung down, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the trunk. As coincidence would have it, he saw that little incense-and-fire fellow who needed to check in at Falling Mountain every month.
On a rarely traveled mountain path, there was a cute, miniature vermilion-robed boy riding a thick water barrel-sized white-spotted snake. The latter had not yet succeeded in transformation; its scales were like refined iron. The vermilion-robed boy seemed to be holding the reins, riding as if on a distant journey.
The vermilion-robed boy sat cross-legged on the snake's back, chattering away: "Even if you don't have great merit, you have hard work. Following me won't do you wrong. Rest assured, when I get promoted one day, I won't treat you badly. Then I just need to discuss with Commander Pei and Deputy Commander Zhou to allow you to accompany me up the mountain. Once or twice, and as long as the times add up, I'm sure we'll eventually run into that Peak Master Chen who shows his head but not his tail. Let Peak Master Chen open his golden mouth to give you a few pointers—what's so hard about immortal shedding and shape refinement? This is called 'a single sentence of true scripture beats ten thousand volumes of fake scriptures.' Ha! This is called hitting the jackpot! Don't believe me? Look at Hong Xia and Yun Zi—what are they like now? They count as becoming immortals, right? As for our kind and amiable Patriarch Lingjun, forget it. Don't look at his youthful appearance; his Dao age is considerable. He's a founding elder of Falling Mountain. If it were a mortal dynasty, he'd be the kind of person whose portrait hangs in some pavilion as a founding hero! You don't understand Falling Mountain at all. I often run into Patriarch Lingjun. You don't know anything about anything. I figure that esteemed Peak Master Chen must have heard of me at least a little. Do you know what kind of encounter that is? That's called being 'simple and in the emperor's heart'..."
Chen Ping'an listened with a headache. No wonder this little fellow hit it off with Falling Mountain—birds of a feather flock together.
The vermilion-robed boy kept muttering, now talking about the love and hate between that Peak Master Chen and Liu Zhongrun from the Turtlefish Back. He had strong reasoning: if there weren't something going on, why would Island Master Liu have traveled all the way from Book Simple Lake, leaving his hometown, and moved all the way to Falling Mountain's territory? Hiding a beauty in a golden house, you know? No wonder. Early on, he had heard Commander Pei solemnly swear about his master's appearance—described as lofty and radiant, sublime and majestic. When it came to comparing appearances, honestly no boasting, two of Lord Wei combined couldn't defeat one master... It was understandable that Island Master Liu was enamored with Peak Master Chen. Too bad he had a stingy master who wouldn't even let him watch a Cloud Mirror Flower Water show. The landscape gazettes at the City God Temple were all delivered by the court on schedule. Not a single gazette from the mountain immortal mansions—so he had never laid eyes on Peak Master Chen's true appearance. It was infuriating and lamentable! But that Liu Zhongrun really wasn't bad-looking—where she should be thin, she was thin; where she should be plump, she was plump...
Chen Ping'an couldn't stand listening anymore. He drifted down softly and coughed a couple of times.
The vermilion-robed boy quickly patted his mount's scales and made a "whoa" sound as if reining in a horse. He called out loudly, "Who goes there?!"
Chen Ping'an suppressed a laugh and said, "Just a passerby."
The vermilion-robed boy thought for a moment and asked, "Are you a cultivator on the mountain, or a wanderer in the jianghu?"
Chen Ping'an smiled. "A wanderer in the jianghu."
The vermilion-robed boy understood. He must be coming for Falling Mountain's reputation. So he advised, "Young man, don't be too arrogant, hoping to climb Falling Mountain and become Peak Master Chen's disciple. Take my advice—they're not receiving guests right now. At the mountain gate, they'll make outsiders stop. If you don't believe me, you'll make a wasted trip, and I won't laugh at you. Ah, but since you've come, you're a guest. At the mountain gate, I'll say hello to Priest Xianwei, and you can still get a bowl of tea. That way, you won't have come entirely for nothing. When you return home, you can brag a little—it won't be bragging without drafting."
Chen Ping'an cupped his fists. "I'm grateful for the kindness."
The vermilion-robed boy put on a stern face and nodded. A polite young man, not bad. He wouldn't starve in the jianghu.
They happened to meet by chance, and so they traveled together, climbing mountains and crossing rivers, heading toward Falling Mountain.
The vermilion-robed boy, first of all, was carefree, and second, he really wasn't afraid of encountering a robber. In this Chuzhou territory, who would dare to cause trouble? But he occasionally sized up the young man who called himself a passerby. As they crossed mountains and ridges, the azure-clad companion moved as if on flat ground, showing a bit of a master's demeanor. At this rate, he probably could easily establish a school or sect in a small southern country outside Big Li. No wonder he dared to try his luck at Falling Mountain.
Finally, unable to resist, he asked, "Judging by your accent, you're not from out of town, are you? Where are you from? Near the Grand River, heading north all along?"
Nowadays in Big Li, so-called "out-of-towners" referred only to the vast lands south of the entire Baoping Continent. But if you pushed back a few years, they would have been from another continent.
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Meeting by chance like duckweed, don't ask about origins."
The vermilion-robed boy chuckled. "Oh, not old, but quite seasoned."
This incense-and-fire little fellow grinned. "Red Candle Town is a famous money pit—a hero can't pass the test of beautiful women. How much money do you have left in your pocket?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "I wander alone in the jianghu. I don't have that taste."
The vermilion-robed boy curled his lip. All men, don't pretend to be a gentleman with me. Not honest.
He originally thought that after drinking tea at the mountain gate, if this person seemed decent, he'd take him to the City God Temple to broaden his horizons, fulfill his duty as host, and then reveal his identity to shock the other. The only problem was that Zhang Ping was full of poor spirit and might not be willing to have him bring guests. Remembering the old days at Mantou Mountain, he had tried hard to set up a match between him and a capable Land Matron, but his good intentions were taken for granted. It made one shed bitter tears. The past is unbearable to recall. Luckily, he was doing fairly well now—wherever he went, he had face.
They arrived at an open mountain ridge. The vermilion-robed boy patted the white-spotted snake's back, signaling it was time to rest for a while and enjoy the view.
Chen Ping'an crouched down, plucked a stalk of grass nearby, brushed off the dirt, put it in his mouth and chewed, staring ahead. In the distance beyond the mountains was a shoal. The wind was swift and the sky high; the islet was clear and the sand white. Clusters of tender green, birds hovered.
When he was little, he thought his hometown was huge. After adulthood, he felt that Baoping Continent was very small.
Different stages of life, the same scenery entering the eyes, different flavors in the heart.
The vermilion-robed boy was silent for a moment, then asked curiously, "You're not a mountain immortal; you saw a snake about to become a spirit by the roadside, and you weren't scared at all? Besides, with this appearance of mine, in the strange tales of the mortal world, I count as some kind of extraordinary being. How come you're not at all surprised? Could you be a registered cultivator from a high-ranking immortal clan, pretending to be a wandering chivalrous youth, enjoying the scenery while scouring the mountains?"
Chen Ping'an smiled. "I've been traveling abroad for a long time. I dare not claim to be knowledgeable, but at least I've walked many night roads, so my courage has grown. I won't be surprised by strange things."
The vermilion-robed boy crossed his arms and watched the man squatting there skillfully chewing the grass root. "Humble background?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head with a smile. "Not bad. A small household. Elders and relatives accumulated virtue through good deeds, so every year the family has surplus grain, and the descendants won't starve."
The vermilion-robed boy nodded, sniffled. He should not have brought this up—it brought back bitterness. "I'm the one with the humble background. Can't blame anyone but myself for picking the wrong people. For many years, I was half full, three meals hungry. It's thanks to my own diligence that I saved up some belongings. Otherwise, I'd suspect my home had been invaded by a poverty ghost that wouldn't leave."
Chen Ping'an laughed. "According to the books, even if a real poverty ghost enters a house, it can block disasters. And if one day you manage to invite the poverty ghost out—inviting a god is easy, but sending it away is hard—if you part on good terms, maybe there will be blessings."
The vermilion-robed boy raised an eyebrow. So this kid had read some proper books. He said in surprise, "Since you couldn't succeed in imperial examinations, you settled for second best and read a lot of miscellaneous books, huh?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "It's always good to read more books. An old saying goes, 'In the last life, you read for this life; in this life, you read for the next life.' That's roughly the idea."
The vermilion-robed boy suddenly said, "I can tell, young master, you're also a sentimental person."
Chen Ping'an looked up with a smile. "You can tell that?"
The little fellow raised a hand and pointed to his own eyes. "I'm always spot-on when judging people."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Chen Ping'an."
The vermilion-robed boy raised one hand and shook it vigorously, laughing. "I've looked through the land registry. In the prefectural city, people with this name number at least this many fingers!"
Chen Ping'an smiled knowingly and nodded. "A good thing."
Once upon a time, this name had been as good as nonexistent in Huaihuang County.
After that, the little fellow rode the white-spotted snake, and Chen Ping'an kept pace briskly beside him, chatting about various things, not idle. They wandered all the way to Falling Mountain's mountain gate.
The vermilion-robed boy jumped off the snake's back and made a promise to the trusted general under the Qidun Mountain Earth God: "Same as always—I'll record a merit for you in the merit book."
The white-spotted snake touched its head to the ground, bidding farewell to this honored second-in-command of the Prefecture City God Temple, then twisted its body and slithered away along the mountain path, vanishing in an instant.
The vermilion-robed boy rubbed his hands together, grinning. "When it succeeds in transformation later, maybe it'll be a beautiful lady with everything."
Chen Ping'an teased, "You and Priest Xianwei must get along well."
The vermilion-robed boy's face suddenly changed color. He said sternly, "How do you know that Falling Mountain's gatekeeper is Priest Xianwei?! As far as I remember, I never mentioned this to you!"
Damn it, what if he had brought a troublemaker to Falling Mountain? That would be like having crotch full of yellow mud. He needed to know: when it came to keeping accounts, Commander Pei was the founding ancestor of the school.
Chen Ping'an smiled. "No need to be nervous. We're all on the same side."
At the gate, Xianwei quickly rolled up a book, tucked it into his sleeve, and strode over. He made a formal Daoist bow salute. "Greetings, Peak Master Chen."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Thank you for your hard work."
The vermilion-robed boy stood stiffly, frowning.
Xianwei snorted. "What's the matter? Now that you've met Peak Master Chen, you don't take this humble Daoist seriously anymore?"
The vermilion-robed boy said timidly, "Priest Xianwei, which Peak Master Chen are you talking about?"
Xianwei glanced at Chen Ping'an. Chen Ping'an smiled. "I told him my name, but he didn't believe me. However, we had a very congenial chat all the way here."
Xianwei couldn't be bothered with that drunken loafer. He lowered his voice and said, "Peak Master Chen, there's something I need to tell you. Let me state beforehand that I'm not the kind of person who likes to tattle."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Speak frankly."
Xianwei turned his head and looked toward the mountain path. "Not long ago, a guest came up the mountain. She looked like a little girl, named Xie Gou. Does Peak Master know about this?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "I know. Miss Xie came looking for Xiao Mo. I ran into her at Qilong Lane not long ago. She's... quite distinctive in character."
Xianwei sighed. "Master Xiao Mo is so cultured and reasonable. How does he have such a boorish friend?"
The two walked toward the bamboo chairs at the mountain gate. The vermilion-robed boy suddenly shot forward like a tiger descending a mountain, full of momentum. He sprinted a distance, then leaped high onto one of the bamboo chairs, rolled a few times, then lay there rubbing the seat with his sleeve, even blowing on it before rubbing it again. Finally, he rolled off the chair in one smooth motion—clearly he had learned from Chen Lingjun. After landing, the little fellow bowed. "Peak Master, please sit!"
Chen Ping'an thanked the little fellow and sat on that bamboo chair. "So, what did Miss Xie do?"
Xianwei kind of regretted bringing this up. He felt it was inappropriate. Why stir up unnecessary trouble? What if that Xie Gou was Xiao Mo's relative or younger generation from his clan? How would that be?
But that marten-hatted girl had done things improperly, bullying Nuanshu. Xianwei couldn't stand for it.
Chen Ping'an patted the chair and smilingly invited the little fellow, who was standing on the ground, "Want to sit together?"
The vermilion-robed boy momentarily lost his composure. "I'm small but my butt is big—takes too much space. I won't sit."
Chen Ping'an didn't force him. He turned to Xianwei. "Go ahead. Consider it as the old cook reporting to me in advance. It has nothing to do with Priest Xianwei."
Xianwei nodded, not forgetting to remind him, "But remember, don't ever let Master Xiao Mo misunderstand and think I'm a gossipy woman who likes to stir up trouble."
Now in Zheng Dafeng's house, Xianwei had a pair of cloud-treading shoes made by Master Xiao Mo himself. They looked extremely valuable. Xianwei couldn't bear to wear them. Occasionally, he would put them on and pace inside the house, imitating a real Daoist priest's ceremonial steps, and it really felt like walking on clouds. It was only because Xianwei had a thin skin that he hadn't asked Master Xiao Mo for another pair.
Chen Ping'an leaned back against the chair, stretched, and listened as Xianwei related some of Xie Gou's deeds. As soon as he heard them, he knew it was something Bai Jing would do—he would never wrong her.
Chen Ping'an turned to glance at the stone steps. "Why didn't I see Miss Cen practicing her fists?"
Xianwei said, "Her? She went home. Hasn't come back yet."
The vermilion-robed boy, meanwhile, was busy quietly making amends, secretly rubbing the leg of the chair, which was as thick as a pillar, with his sleeve. Whether or not the Peak Master appreciated it, it was at least a gesture.
Chen Ping'an didn't know how to persuade the little fellow. He couldn't help but feel that Falling Mountain's geomantic omen was truly extraordinary. After thinking about it over the years, perhaps if he traced it back to the source, it was probably all due to his teacher's merit. As for Pei Qian and the others, they had surpassed their teacher.
According to the planned itinerary, the Kite Ferryboat was expected to arrive at Oxhorn Ferry in the next day or two.
Hong Xia and Yun Zi, whose corner had been turned by Cui Dongshan, would follow the ferryboat on a distant journey to North Julu Continent first and eventually stop at Xiandu Mountain to participate in the Grand River excavation. It seemed this was their first formal journey.
Chen Lingjun and Guo Zhujiu had attended the peak-opening ceremony of the Yellow Millet Sect. Since they were appointed as offering guests, they would make another trip to the capital of Dream Millet Kingdom and should be back at Falling Mountain soon.
Accompanying them were Li Huai and Nen Daoren, who would probably stop here and then go to the Great Sui Cliff Academy. Chen Ping'an planned to discuss matters concerning the Grand River on Tongye Continent with Nen Daoren.
He had already sent a message to Tuo Yan Furen. The Mountain Lord of Mount Jiuyi in the Central Continent had personally invited her as a guest on the mountain. Given Tuo Yan Furen's temperament, she probably wouldn't refuse. After all, there was a beautiful saying in the Righteous Heaven: "Of the two and a half plum blossoms in the world, one is on Mount Jiuyi." And this former master of the Plum Blossom Garden, now with a registered identity as an offering guest of the Dragon Elephant Sword Sect, had returned to the Righteous Heaven from Daoxuan Mountain. Naturally, she could travel anywhere without restraint.
Earlier at the Qidun Mountain shrine, when talking with Song Yuzhang, the topic turned to the new kiln supervisor who had taken over Cao Gengxin's position. He was a fourth-rank official named Jian Feng. He seemed to have a bit of a scholar's idealism, encountering obstacles everywhere, often being shut out. But whether it was Song Yuzhang, separated by the officialdom of mountain and mortal, or Dong Shuijing, who had dealt with Jian Feng once, both had a good impression of this disheveled Supervisor Jian.
Wu Yuan had been dormant in Big Li's officialdom for many years, sitting on the cold bench for a long time. No one expected her to make a splendid comeback. Now she had already become the highly esteemed Commissioner of New Chuzhou, a true regional magnate. Certainly, there would be no shortage of idle gossip like "it's good to have someone in court." In the past, besides being the son-in-law of the Yuan clan of the Supreme Pillars of State, Wu Yuan's other identity outside officialdom was as a student of State Preceptor Cui Chan. Now she also had an inexplicable "younger master uncle" from the literary lineage.
Earlier, in Big Li's capital at Cattail River, Chen Ping'an had drunk some plain wine with Jing Kuan, formerly of the Ministry of Revenue's Clear Administration Department. Now Jing Kuan had also been sent out of the capital to serve as the Commandery Governor of Baoxi Commandery.
He heard that Xun Qu, an usher in the Court of State Ceremonial, was a fellow graduate in the imperial examinations with Cao Qinglang. He too had been promoted, transferred to the Armory Department of the Ministry of War.
Yuan Bai had stayed at the Huangshan Sword Sect, which was a subsidiary mountain of Zhengyang Mountain, and had not agreed to go to Tongye Continent.
As for the alley outside the Cloud Following Tower—he didn't know if that Immortal Master Liu had recently stopped anyone.
Chen Ping'an withdrew his thoughts and asked with a smile, "Xianwei, how's your cultivation?"
Xianwei looked awkward. Of all the pots he could be asked to open. He hedged, "Haste makes waste. When it comes to cultivation, one shouldn't rush. Progress step by step is best."
But in truth, if eating a bowl of hot tofu could raise his realm, he'd take not just a few bowls but a whole big basin. However, Xianwei then thought, what was the point of a high realm? Middle Five Realms, then Land Immortal, then Upper Five Realms? When did this road ever end? Being a gatekeeper wasn't bad. The best way to live was like himself—if you avoid trouble, you have less trouble. As for cultivation, let those real Daoist priests who seek merit and perfection busy themselves. He, this fake Daoist, still had books to read.
A sword light flashed. Xiao Mo appeared out of thin air. He had been staying in the small town recently, needing to keep an eye on Bai Jing at Qilong Lane to prevent her from causing more trouble.
When he saw his master, Xiao Mo seemed to want to speak but hesitated.
Chen Ping'an said via mind voice, "The reason I separated a strand of mind and sent it outward is..."
Xiao Mo instantly understood. "Master doesn't need to explain."
He was forging a sword.
Perhaps the dojo was beyond the heavens.
As for the specifics of how the sword was being forged, Xiao Mo wouldn't ask.
Earlier, in that vortex of the River of Time, when they were discussing a certain sect that was purely a fantasy, Chen Ping'an had suddenly laughed. "We need to add one more person: chief offering guest Wu Shuangjiang."
The white-haired boy was eager. "Ancestor Hidden Official?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Then add one more: the lowest offering guest, Daoist name Natural, alias Konghou."
A sect without a few immortal couples just didn't seem right.
At the time, Xie Gou had said dismissively, "Since it's all 'what if,' what's the point of talking about it?"
Chen Ping'an had smiled. "Even though this is only the best choice in some people's hearts. But if Priest Xianwei were present, he wouldn't think that way."
Xie Gou had rolled her eyes. "How could you compare him to him?"
Bai Jing, always proud, rarely conceded so readily.
If this sect was only a hypothesis, then there was another mountain peak that was real.
For instance: Sect Leader Chen Ping'an, Dao companion Ning Yao.
Inside the Patriarch Hall: Cui Dongshan, Jiang Shangzhen, Xiao Mo, Mi Yu. Zhu Lian, Sui Youbian, Zhong Qiu, Cui Wei. Qilong Lane's Konghou, Demon Suppression Tower's Qing Tong...
The younger generation: Pei Qian, Cao Qinglang. Chai Wu, Bai Xuan, Sun Chunwang...
Before setting off up the mountain, Chen Ping'an crouched down and smiled at the vermilion-robed boy. "Regarding the new position of Chief Guardian of Qilong Lane, I'll discuss it with Pei Qian and the others when I get back. I personally recommend you for the role."
The vermilion-robed boy, who hadn't yet checked in a hundred times, was extremely excited, murmuring over and over, "I'm unworthy, I'm unworthy..."
It was exactly the same phrasing and expression as Chief Zhou's in the Patriarch Hall on Jise Peak back then. This kind of unique talent was truly beyond comparison.
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Want to go up the mountain together?"
The vermilion-robed boy shook his head vigorously. "I need to go to Priest Xianwei's place first to sign in for roll call. Your subordinate has short legs and might delay things. I won't accompany the Peak Master up the mountain."
Then Chen Ping'an and Xiao Mo slowly climbed the mountain.
Xianwei clicked his tongue in wonder. "Where did you learn to talk like that? Teach me sometime?"
The vermilion-robed boy put his hands on his hips, glaring upward. "How dare you, Xianwei! Peak Master is still here! Don't be so sloppy with me! Don't make me get misunderstood by the Peak Master!"
Chen Ping'an asked, "Bai Jing stays at Qilong Lane—can she really get used to it?"
Xiao Mo nodded. "I met Master earlier. She's been fairly well-behaved so far, just bickering with Konghou all day. But she gets along well with Zhou Junchen."
Chen Ping'an smiled via mind voice. "This forging of the sword is actually a distant journey again. But this time, I have to walk against the River of Time for twenty thousand years."