Chapter 1000: The Lineup

Chapter 1000: The Lineup

Yanzhou Prefecture, Sui'an County.
The moon was like a hook, geese flying south.
Dressed in a green scholar's robe, strolling under the moonlight on a stone arch bridge, accompanied by a steady-footed young man—it was Chen Ping'an and his disciple Zhao Shuxia.

Zhao Shuxia lightly stamped his foot. The stone bridge felt solid, with nothing unusual about it. He asked, "Master, this bridge has such a grand name. Is there a story behind it?"

The arch bridge spanning the stream beneath their feet was named the Ten-Thousand-Year Bridge.

The murmuring Wu Stream flowed out from the mountains. The village was called Lingjiao, and the locals called themselves the Source, a name that was quite fitting.

Chen Ping'an was nibbling on melon seeds, shaking his head with a smile. "I checked, but unfortunately, neither the prefectural nor county gazetteers have any clear record. It was most likely built by some local worthies in earlier times. As for why it's called 'Ten-Thousand-Year Bridge,' even the old folks here don't know. There's no evidence to trace it. According to the inscriptions on the tombstones in the village, it was a prominent clan from the northernmost ancient kingdom of Treasure Vessel Continent, who migrated here about seven or eight hundred years ago. This Wu Stream is one of the sources of the Fine Brow River. Actually, the Dragon Whisker River in my hometown was anciently called the Wu Stream. The coincidence of fate is truly wonderful."

Sui'an County was located at the border of Yanzhou and Yunzhou. The Fine Brow River, originating in Yanzhou Prefecture, was the largest river in Yunzhou. Yet it had never had a river god officially enshrined by the court, and not even a single licentious shrine had ever existed along its banks since ancient times.

Zhao Shuxia used sound condensation to speak in secret, "Master, I heard that a few years ago, the Great Li court found the entrance to the Ancient Shu Dragon Palace ruins along a certain section of the Wu Stream?"

Chen Ping'an nodded, walking down the bridge and following the stone path along the stream toward the lower reaches. He looked back, seeing nothing under the bridge. "It's a small inland dragon palace, of low rank. But in history, no qi refiner has ever set foot inside, so the treasures within remain untouched. According to the Ministry of Revenue's preliminary estimates, it's equivalent to the tax revenue of several wealthy prefectures in Great Li—quite substantial. The key is that if the Great Li court handles it properly, beyond the orderly extraction of various heavenly materials and earthly treasures, immortal herbs, and some rare minerals, there will be a steady stream of 'immortal money.' Additionally, water-fa techniques and aquatic spirits will rent out spaces inside for their cultivation caves. The annual rent paid to the Ministry of Revenue is not to be underestimated either. It can truly be described as a cornucopia."

Now the Fine Brow River had its first ever river god. The Vice Minister of Rites of Great Li and the Minister of State Rites of Huangting Kingdom jointly presided over the enshrinement ceremony.

The first water god of the Fine Brow River, Gao Niang, had previously been the river god of the Iron Deed River. A brand new divine shrine rose from the ground, completed in less than a month. The plaque was written by an old grand tutor of Huangting Kingdom, and over a dozen couplets were all composed by renowned Confucian scholars from Huangting's literary circles.

Along this Wu Stream, three villages were built by the water, each separated by no more than two or three li. Each village had a single surname. Occasionally, a man might marry in, but he would not be recorded in the village genealogy.

The largest village, at the very downstream, had two hundred households. It was called Wu Stream Village and was one of the larger villages in Sui'an County. Historically, it had produced one provincial graduate, though that honor was from the previous dynasty. Now, under the Great Li dynasty, even a successful candidate in the provincial examinations—let alone a metropolitan graduate like a literary star descending to earth—was enough to bring glory to the family, and the county magistrate would personally come to congratulate.

As a result, the village at the very head of the Wu Stream opened a new private school this year. On opening day, they set off firecrackers that roared like thunder, heard by the two villages downstream. It was clearly a challenge. The teacher was an outsider named Chen Ji. No one knew where he had popped up from.

Chen Ji. Hah, just hearing that name, it sounded like a bumpkin, certainly not a scholar from a literary family.

Zhao Shuxia asked with a smile, "Master, you're skilled at observing qi and geomancy. Could you talk about the feng shui of these three villages?"

Chen Ping'an finished his melon seeds, clapped his hands, and couldn't help but laugh. "It's not like I'm trying to make a living by setting up a stall and swindling people. I barely know a little—just read a few miscellaneous books on geography. I wouldn't dare to say much."

But as they passed the middle village, Chen Ping'an pointed at a certain mountain hollow and said, "Since there's no one else around, I'll just repeat what I've read and chat a bit. According to the 'Form School,' see that? On the mountain hollow, there are three small hillocks shaped like open umbrellas. If this hollow didn't exist, the qi would leak out, like an umbrella without a handle—it wouldn't support anything. Otherwise, this small village could produce high-ranking officials. Among the three villages, this one has the strongest literary qi and is more likely to produce scholars."

Chen Ping'an then pointed at an alley in the village. "In a village, it's a different scene. The literary qi is all on the left side. Unfortunately, nowadays, the village's children all go to study at Wu Stream Village's school, which prevents the qi from accumulating. If these scholars are to succeed, either the village will have to open its own school in the future, or they'll have to go to Yanzhou Prefecture to study."

In Yanzhou Prefecture, most village schools, like that of Wu Stream Village, were funded by clan ancestral halls. They would set aside a few acres of school fields, hire a teacher, and open a school. This way, even poor children could learn to read. However, once the children grew a bit older and gained some strength, most would drop out to farm with their elders, earning income from sericulture, tea roasting, and charcoal burning—living off the mountains. But if a truly promising student appeared, according to new laws enacted by Great Li in recent years, the county instructor would select the best and personally teach them. Moreover, the county government would subsidize the village and the family each year. Thus, what used to be "earning money only by becoming an official" became "earning money by studying."

When they reached the entrance of Wu Stream Village, Chen Ping'an turned back. Wu Stream Village had hired an old "child-tongue scholar" from the county to teach at their clan school. It was said that several clan elders had gone to great lengths to bring him in. Not only did they visit him, but they also hosted a banquet in the county seat. The school accepted children of all ages—the youngest being five or six, the oldest fifteen or sixteen. Combined from the three villages, there were probably seventy or eighty students. With so many, one teacher couldn't manage alone, so there were also two local tutors from Wu Stream Village. Though the old gentleman was only a "child-tongue scholar" who had taken a few prefectural exams—strictly speaking, not even a failed xiucai—for a remote village school, such treatment was no small feat.

The night breeze was cool. Chen Ping'an walked on the yellow mud road by the river, muttering to himself.

On his right was the shallow Wu Stream, moonlight flowing on its surface. On the mountain were bamboo groves, interspersed with cypress, locust, and tea fields. On his left, the rapeseed flowers in the fields were a golden yellow.

Zhao Shuxia listened to his master's faint voice. He still didn't fully understand why his master was so invested in starting a village school. The small school Master had opened at the Source had fewer than ten children now. And given Master's temperament and habits, he certainly wouldn't give up halfway. That meant for at least two or three years, Master would devote the precious time meant for secluded cultivation to an unknown, newly opened school. Zhao Shuxia didn't find this wrong—just puzzling.

The introductory texts for children were mostly the "Three Character Classic, Hundred Family Surnames, Thousand Character Classic," which were standard across the nine continents of Haoran. The children would sway their heads in the classroom, first memorizing by rote, then the teacher would explain each character's meaning line by line. After that came the "Four Books." When the children had a rough grasp of literature, they would move on to the "Five Classics" and some classical essays selected by various countries' official schools. There was a progression: writing composition, couplets, and poetry. But for a village school, the focus and foundation were still the character-writing lessons. Chen Ping'an had personally written over a thousand standard script characters and over a thousand copies of annotations resembling Shuowen Jiezi explanations, matching each square character. Additionally, Chen Ping'an had cut, selected, and copied several copies of "Dui Yun" (Rhyming Couplets) by Li Shilang.

On the Night Voyager Ship that Chen Ping'an had boarded, there was a "Boundary City" whose city lord was the "Li Shilang" known as a polymath both on and off the mountains.

Chen Ping'an had long admired and respected this Li Shilang, styled Xianlu and nicknamed Sui'an. But their first real meeting on the Night Voyager Ship hadn't been very harmonious because of the disparity between the host and guest.

"Door facing household; path facing street. Long day opposing longer night; homeland opposing foreign land. Cool Summer Hall on earth; Vast Cold Palace in heaven. Holding the five sacred talismans of the sacred peaks; hanging a seven-star patterned sword at the waist... Locust tree opposing willow; juniper opposing wild rose. Boiling early chives; cutting spring celery. Yellow dog opposing green phoenix; lakeshore opposing mountain cliff. Beneath the mountain, hanging white jade chopsticks; immortal's nine-cycle purple gold elixir..."

Earlier, when Chen Ping'an was traveling alone through the martial world, he often recited this. Later, after leaving the Lotus Flower Blessed Land, he had the little charcoal (Pei Qian) by his side. He was afraid she would find copying books boring and become lax, developing a resistance to reading. So whenever they traveled by night on Parasol Leaf Continent, he taught her these "jingles" to boost her courage. Because they rhymed, they were easy to recite. Pei Qian probably thought it was just moving her mouth, requiring little effort, and she had a good memory, so she soon knew them by heart. When they walked at night, the little charcoal strutted along, her voice clear as an oriole's chattering. At that time, Pei Qian might have recited half-heartedly, but Chen Ping'an enjoyed listening, his mind peaceful.

"Shuxia, would it be more appropriate to delete the content after 'Holding the sacred talismans' and 'Beneath the mountain, hanging white jade chopsticks'? After all, for children's learning, it might be too early to expose them to these supernatural, immortal sayings."

Zhao Shuxia said, "Master, I don't think it's a big problem. I've heard stories about mountain ghosts, water monkeys, and fox spirits since I was little. This talisman stuff and purple gold elixir are probably no different."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "Then I'll think it over."

All the way, Zhao Shuxia had been practicing the six-step stake-standing, combined with the sword furnace stance. Every night while sleeping, he practiced the "sleeping stake" called Thousand Autumns, with a specific posture.

Earlier, while practicing boxing on the second floor of the bamboo building, Zhao Shuxia himself realized a big problem without Master saying anything. The Quaking Mountain Fist was fine, but techniques like Iron Cavalry Ramming Formation, Vapor Rising Over Great Lake, and Divine Man Beating Drum—the supreme techniques of Senior Cui—which Master and Senior Sister had become proficient in almost instantly, Zhao Shuxia learned extremely slowly. So slow that he himself felt embarrassed.

Chen Ping'an suddenly said, "When I traveled to Northern Juzhou Continent, I had the honor of meeting the compiler of the Quaking Mountain Fist manual, Senior Gu You, a Death Realm martial artist of the Great Seal Dynasty. At that time, he didn't reveal his identity. We confronted each other from a distance on a narrow path. Without warning, Senior Gu wanted to test my boxing skills. As for the process and result, nothing special—I barely managed to hold my own and didn't disappoint him too much. Later, I traveled part of the way with Senior Gu. He started to see me in a new light for just one reason."

Zhao Shuxia asked curiously, "Was it because Master trained diligently?"

Chen Ping'an shook his head. "No. 'Diligence' is a vague term. Practicing a living fist gets the spirit; practicing a dead fist only wastes bones and muscles. Both count as diligence, but there are countless martial artists under heaven who work hard. But if they don't get the method—especially for external boxing—they often end up summoning ghosts instead of gods. Pure martial artists often end up with chronic ailments by middle age. Senior Gu and I were chatting about the fist manual, discussing the Heaven-Earth Stake. I gave my opinion: could we combine the six-step stake, the sword furnace stance, and the Heaven-Earth Stake into one? At the time, although Senior Gu tried to stay calm, I could still see the astonishment in his eyes."

Zhao Shuxia was puzzled. "Master, what do you mean? Can I learn it?"

Chen Ping'an put on a serious face and nodded. "Of course you can. I've explained it so clearly, and you still can't figure out the key? Shuxia, your talent is lacking, and your comprehension is insufficient."

Seeing that the other still didn't get it, Chen Ping'an had to stretch out one hand and gently turn it over.

Zhao Shuxia thought hard for a moment, then hesitated before nodding emphatically. So that's it! He immediately performed a stake-walking rush punch, turning his head and feet upside down, supporting himself on one hand, forming a single-handed sword furnace stance, and coordinating with the Heaven-Earth Stake's fist technique. He "hopped and skipped" through the six-step stake.

Chen Ping'an held back his laughter. "Changing the standing sword furnace to one hand loses the flavor. Try using your head to support your body instead of your left hand. It'll be harder at first, but over time, you'll know its infinite uses."

Zhao Shuxia actually tried it as his master said.

When they passed the middle village, someone happened to be walking at night. Chen Ping'an quickly kicked Zhao Shuxia over lightly, saying in a low voice with a grin, "Don't let people think we're both fools."

Zhao Shuxia stood up, brushing off his head and the dirt all over his clothes, looking helpless.

Chen Ping'an took out a handful of melon seeds from his sleeve, gave half to Zhao Shuxia, and while nibbling, said with a smile, "Earlier, on the second floor of the bamboo building, Senior Cui spoke of the Quaking Mountain Fist manual with utter disdain—'full of earthy smell,' 'the techniques recorded are truly sloppy,' he said without fear of biting his tongue. Later, when I met Senior Gu, he said Senior Cui's teaching ability was insufficient; if it were him teaching, he'd guarantee that I'd break through with the strongest force every time."

Zhao Shuxia listened to these incredibly precious "jianghu tales." Although Master spoke lightly, even with a bit of humor, it made Zhao Shuxia's heart yearn.

Suddenly, Zhao Shuxia thought of the preface to the fist manual and asked curiously, "Master, have you ever met the Three Teachings Patriarchs?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "I've met both the Supreme Sage and the Dao Ancestor. Even chatted with them."

Zhao Shuxia didn't ask further.

Chen Ping'an said with a smile, "No taboo about it. The Supreme Sage was a tall, sturdy scholar. My first impression was, 'He looks like he's been through the jianghu.' The Dao Ancestor doesn't look like the portraits in Azure Mystic Continent's temples—he actually looks like a young dao boy."

Zhao Shuxia asked with a smile, "Master must have met many Death Realm martial artists by now, right?"

Chen Ping'an thought for a moment. "If I exclude those I've only seen from afar or exchanged brief greetings with, not that many—less than ten."

Chen Ping'an gestured with his chin toward the bamboo grove across the stream. "Shuxia, go check that wild bamboo grove. See if there are any yellow mud bamboo shoots. I'll show off my cooking skills when you get back. The dishes you've been making are honestly just edible."

Seeing no one around, Zhao Shuxia lightly leaped, crossed the stream, and went into the bamboo grove. Soon he returned with a bundle of yellow mud shoots.

Chen Ping'an hadn't been idle either. He picked a large bunch of wild amaranth from the fields and some wild scallions. Stir-fried with chili sauce, it made an excellent snack to go with wine.

As they walked back to the source village, Chen Ping'an said with a smile, "Strange. I think stinky mandarin fish is delicious, but I've never been able to enjoy oil-braised bamboo shoots."

Zhao Shuxia said, "Master, oil-braised bamboo shoots are great, but I can't stand scrambled eggs with Chinese toon."

After a wildfire, ferns would grow vigorously the next year, but it wasn't time yet. They would have to wait until around Qingming to go up the mountain to pick them, visit the graves, or go to the tea gardens. They'd never return empty-handed.

Back at the village school, Zhao Shuxia said with a laugh, "Master, I reckon that Mr. Feng and Mr. Han from Wu Stream Village will come looking for trouble soon."

Chen Ping'an shook his sleeves and said cheerfully, "Let them come. Bring on poetry duels, couplets—your master never backs down."

This crude village school consisted of a single rammed-earth building serving as the classroom, plus two thatched huts: one for the teacher to rest in, and the other as a kitchen and storage room.

Zhao Shuxia spread a makeshift bed in the kitchen. Chen Ping'an originally wanted them to share a room, but Zhao Shuxia refused, saying he'd always had an affinity with the kitchen.

The rammed-earth building had been there long ago, just unoccupied. They had rented it. The two small thatched huts were newly built. The school had temporarily taken in eight children, most still in open-crotch pants.

The school was able to start because, firstly, the teacher named Chen Ji, in his thirties, was no wet-behind-the-ears greenhorn. He was cleanly dressed and seemed like a scholar with some ink in his belly. Secondly, he was good with words. Before opening the school, he had visited the two villages door to door, and he knew the rules—he didn't "poach" students from Wu Stream Village. Finally, and most fundamentally, his fees were low! Compared to the school in Wu Stream Village, they were almost half.

Moreover, the teacher had promised the villagers that during busy farming seasons, the children could take leave, and he might even help in the fields himself.

This fellow had completely thrown away all shame to steal business! A total disgrace to scholarly dignity!

The two teachers Zhao Shuxia mentioned: one was the old child-tongue scholar Feng Yuanting, whom Wu Stream Village had hired at great expense. The other was Han Wo, styled Yuncheng, a teacher with some renown in Sui'an County. Though he himself had no official rank, he had taught several successful candidates in the county exams and was considered a virtuous village elder. This old Mr. Han currently taught as a private tutor at the home of the wealthiest family in Wu Stream Village. Feng Yuanting always felt a bit inferior around Han Wo, but they occasionally drank together. After the new school opened at Lingjiao, Feng Yuanting often invited Han Wo for drinks. He had read a few "military books" (actually historical romances of famous generals) and knew that rash action was a cardinal mistake. He thought it best to test the waters first, then adapt his strategy. Han Wo advised him not to quibble with a teacher from a small village school—better to maintain harmony among colleagues. Feng Yuanting agreed verbally but muttered inwardly. It wasn't about competing for a few children—it was about face. If a scholar lost his face, what kind of scholar was he? Every child that left his school was like a slap to his face. How could he tolerate that?

If not for the current Great Li law requiring all private schools to register with the county government and the county instructor to personally examine the teacher's learning, he would have reported that fellow as a swindler. One complaint, and that Chen would be in deep trouble.

Chen Ping'an said, "Shuxia, after you break through, I'll teach you a breathing technique. But it may not suit you. Be mentally prepared that you might not learn it."

It was the Eighteen Sword Qi Stops.

Zhao Shuxia nodded, took his leave, and went to the kitchen to spread his bedding. He practiced the sleeping stake, controlled his breathing, and soon fell deeply asleep.

After coming here, Zhao Shuxia gradually noticed a strange thing: several times when he called "Master," there was no response, and he had to walk over. Chen Ping'an would smile and say, "Sorry, I didn't hear you." After that, Zhao Shuxia always walked up to his master before speaking.

This time, Chen Ping'an had only brought Zhao Shuxia with him and directly told Chen Lingjun not to come wandering around.

Chen Lingjun had begged and pestered, finally wringing from his master the opportunity to visit the school once a month.

That was thanks to the old cook's helpful comment: "After all, our Jingqing ancestor looks like a little boy in blue. It's not even pretending to be a child; he is one. He should really read more sacred books." Zhu Lian had even asked Chen Lingjun with a smile if he needed a pair of open-crotch pants. Chen Lingjun couldn't be bothered to argue with the old cook. If his master hadn't agreed, Chen Lingjun would have actually wanted to attend a few days of school.

Chen Ping'an returned to his quarters, lit an oil lamp on the table, ground his own ink, and began writing a landscape story about the Water Monster of Mute Lake.

Much more meticulous than when he'd written on fan covers at the Sword Qi Great Wall.

The three villages were surrounded by mountains on all sides, with only one stream and one path winding out.

Eighty li from Sui'an County town, many locals had only been to the county seat once in their lives.

The mountain fields were covered with azaleas, truly living up to the name "Mountain Reflection Red."

Spring doves chirped, peach blossoms were light pink, apricot flowers white. Elm leaves clustered like green coins. Willows along the river had sprouted and drawn buds, their color a golden yellow.

After school today, a visitor came. He walked along the yellow mud road, passed through Wu Stream Village, and headed toward the source.

Dressed like an old scholar, it was the new river god of the Fine Brow River, Gao Niang. Trembling, he came to pay respects. It couldn't be helped—a higher official could crush a lower one. And face a mountain master with two sects under his command.

Smoke from cooking fires rose. Gao Niang saw a country woman carrying a child on her back while making pancakes. The child defecated, and the woman reached behind with a cloth, catching it, then continued making pancakes.

He saw chicken droppings on some villagers' Eight Immortals tables. Children flew kites after school, crouched by the fields playing grass games. The old and young were content, enjoying themselves.

After leaving Wu Stream Village, Gao Niang turned to look at the small pond at the head of the village. It was a "well sky" pond—the stream widened there but narrowed at the outlet, so it could retain wealth. The village that had migrated here long ago knew feng shui well.

In ancient education: at home there were schools, in the neighborhoods there were local academies, in the towns there were schools, and in the capital there was the national university.

Gao Niang lightly patted his chest, feeling a bit more at ease. Because he was about to meet the young Hidden Official, the last disciple of the Sage Wen. So the river god had tucked several priceless rare editions of ancient books into his bosom. He couldn't visit empty-handed.

Gao Niang stroked his beard and smiled. Every ancient book preserved to this day seemed protected by ghosts and gods. We scholars who read without understanding are like eating without gaining weight—better not to read.

Because within the territory of the Fine Brow River, there was an ancient terrestrial dragon palace site about to open. So in Sui'an County, a group of Great Li cultivators were secretly stationed, disguised as merchants, without disturbing the various government offices of Yanzhou Prefecture. The prefect, of course, knew about it but had received secret orders from the court not to publicize it. Gao Niang, as the newly appointed mountain and river spirit, did not have the right to enter that dragon palace. After reporting in twice, he simply stopped going, not wanting to be snubbed.

When he saw Gao Niang, Chen Ping'an brought out two bamboo chairs, handed one to Gao Niang, and they both sat under the eaves of the thatched hut.

Gao Niang sat upright, his back straight. When placing the bamboo chair, he used a "clever angle," slightly leaning toward the Hidden Official. Cautiously, he said, "Master Chen, have you come for the dragon palace?"

He guessed that the Great Li court, fearing mishaps, had invited the Hidden Official to personally oversee the matter.

Chen Ping'an smiled and shook his head. "The court's excavation of the dragon palace has nothing to do with me. Great Li doesn't even know I'm here teaching."

Gao Niang nodded lightly, understanding. He must not add any superfluous actions or words. He had spent decades cultivating in the public service before, and later eating at Ziyang Mansion—his skills were there.

From his bosom, Gao Niang took out the few books and handed them to Chen Ping'an with both hands, saying softly, "Master Chen, a small gift, unworthy of your esteem."

"With books, truly wealthy; without office, truly free. That's the only thing where Old Brother Gao falls short of me."

Chen Ping'an didn't stand on ceremony. He took the books, thanked Gao Niang, patted the books, and made a joking remark before tucking them into his sleeve. "Old Brother Gao is not an outsider. In the future, when you have time, come sit with me often."

This caught Gao Niang off guard. He was both flattered and troubled. Finding books of similar quality to these would not be easy. But even if it were difficult, it was still better than attending the Night Tour Banquet of Mountain Lord Wei of Piyun Mountain. Besides, this kind of private friendship—being able to chat alone face to face with the young Hidden Official—was a rare opportunity. How could it compare to a noisy feast with two or three hundred guests? Even if it cost him thirty books, Gao Niang would be willing to borrow money or go into debt to buy them.

Gao Niang looked around and sighed with emotion, "Master Chen choosing to build a thatched hut and cultivate here is truly unexpected. Most reclusive experts, as the saying goes, 'at middle age, fond of the Dao,' befriend the wind in pines and the mountain moon. Master Chen does the opposite. A divine man, truly a divine man!"

Chen Ping'an was long used to such flattery. With a slight smile, he said, "It's not cultivation in the strict sense. I'm just a schoolteacher. By the way, I now go by the alias Chen Ji. Old Brother Gao, just call me by that name. If you call me 'Master Chen' too often over time, it will leak."

Gao Niang thought briefly, then slapped his knee as if in sudden realization. "Good, this alias is excellent! Su Shi said, 'Life is like an inn; I am a traveler.' Master Chen takes the character 'ji' (trace), with the radical for 'walk' and 'ye' (also). Master Chen is an outsider, which perfectly matches 'I am a traveler.' Marvelous!"

Zhao Shuxia, busy in the kitchen, was dumbfounded, almost thinking this River God had been possessed by Old Daoist Jia from the straw shop.

Chen Ping'an called Zhao Shuxia, asking him to get some dried sweet potatoes for the guest, and introduced Zhao Shuxia's identity as his personal disciple.

Gao Niang stood up, took the dried sweet potatoes from Zhao Shuxia, said some polite words like "a great master produces great disciples," and then Zhao Shuxia thought that the River God still seemed slightly inferior to Old Immortal Jia.

Chen Ping'an asked casually, "Who is the leader of the Great Li cultivators currently guarding that dragon palace gate?"

Gao Niang replied, "The nominal person in charge seems to be a female cultivator from Snow Wind Temple named Yu Huiting. She also has the status of a Great Li army-attached cultivator. As for the court's secret arrangements, I'm not too clear yet."

Chen Ping'an nodded. "By sect rank, Wei Jin is her junior master from a different lineage."

He had heard from the Great Sword Immortal Mi that when he was protecting and traveling with the female cultivators of Changchun Palace, they once encountered a remarkable woman. She had a slender waist, a standard-issue saber of the Great Li border army, narrow-sleeved brocade clothes and black gauze pants, and most peculiarly, embroidered shoes with two "dragon eye" pearls on the toes... Actually, Mi Yu had said more, but the Hidden Official had only caught an earful.

Gao Niang suddenly realized, "So that's it."

As expected of the world-famous Hidden Official, he could speak so casually about the Great Sword Immortal Wei Jin of Snow Wind Temple's Immortal Terrace, the nominal sword champion of the continent.

While Gao Niang was lost in thought, Chen Ping'an suddenly stood up, his expression grave. "Gao Niang, I'm sorry, but I can't host you any longer. I have urgent matters. You too, immediately use your divine abilities to return to the water palace. Go quickly!"

Bewildered, Gao Niang didn't dare hesitate. He quickly used water magic, traveling along the Wu Stream back to the Fine Brow Water Palace, bursting into his golden divine statue in one breath.

Chen Ping'an took a deep breath. So it had come. He cursed that bastard Zhou Mi.

In an instant, Chen Ping'an felt as if he were forcibly dragged into a primordial realm beyond the heavens.

The first thing he saw was the towering Dharma form of Li Sheng, vast as a star.

Then Zheng Juzhong of Baidi City, Fu Lu of Yu Xuan, Chunyang of Lu Yan, and even Li Xisheng, Xiao Mo, and Xie Gou—or rather, Bai Jing!

And a young cultivator he didn't recognize, standing behind Li Sheng, before the crowd.

Sure enough, the Wild Continent was trying to crash into the Haoran Continent!

Like two qi-treading boats colliding head-on!

This was to completely cut off Li Sheng's path to the fifteenth realm.

Xiao Mo had already revealed his true form, in white robes, ethereal, and said via heart voice, "Young Master, according to City Lord Zheng's calculations, the Wild Continent's chosen entry point was first Fuyang Prefecture, then our Great Li's Yuzhou. Now it seems to have changed to Yu Jin's underwater lair."

Bai Jing smiled. "Good thing I was cautious and didn't casually open that box."

Zheng Juzhong said, "Please, Master Chen, concentrate your entire mind and bring out your two flying swords."

Chen Ping'an nodded.

Li Xisheng smiled. "I'll assist Master Chen, that's all."