The old scholar once again stepped out of the landscape painting, seeing the youth Cui Chan still lying on the ground feigning death, and coldly snorted, “What a disgrace!”

Cui Chan blankly gazed at the sky, “Living holds no hope, might as well die.”

The old scholar walked over and gave him a kick, “Stop playing pitiful here! Don’t you want to know why Little Qi only wanted to degrade your cultivation realm, and didn’t eliminate you once and for all?”

Cui Chan’s eyes flickered, and he murmured, “Back then, when you were expelled from the Confucian Temple, Qi Jingchun was not only unaffected, but his cultivation realm continued to rise. That already explained a lot. He, Qi Jingchun, was already qualified to establish his own lineage, and was long estranged from your lineage of the Sage of Literature. So he felt he wasn’t qualified to kill me, hoping you would clean up the mess in the future.”

The old scholar was furious at his lack of ambition and kicked him again, “Using the heart of a petty man to measure the heart of a gentleman, that’s exactly what you are! I’ll count to three, if you don’t get up, just lie there and wait to die, don’t even dream of the Great Dao anymore, Three! Two! Two, Two…”

Cui Chan was determined not to get up.

This greatly embarrassed the old scholar, so he had to turn to Chen Ping’an and wink, asking him to help out.

Chen Ping’an nodded, took the locust wood sword from Li BaoPing’s hand, strode forward, and after arriving at Cui Chan’s side, said a word “One” expressionlessly, then thrust the sword down at the white-robed youth’s neck.

The force was heavy and the sword tip was precise. Perhaps Chen Ping’an himself didn’t realize that after experiencing the “stable heart” (心穩 – xin wen) state within the painting, his hands could finally keep up with the flow of Chen Ping’an’s thoughts. So this sword strike was utterly devoid of any flourishes, but all the more sharp and ruthless, filled with killing intent.

This scared Cui Chan so much that he scrambled up in a fluster.

Chen Ping’an sheathed his sword and nodded to the old scholar, meaning that he had solved the old gentleman’s immediate problem.

The old scholar sighed and looked at Chen Ping’an and the white-robed woman not far away, “Find a place, let’s talk about some things.”

The old man turned to Cui Chan and glared, “Follow us! It concerns your **Dao** opportunity, if you continue to act, just let Chen Ping’an hack you to death.”

The group walked towards the courtyard. The old scholar looked around, glanced at the “small sky canopy” (小天幕 – Xiao Tianmu) supported by the snow-white lotus leaf, and hesitated while making a hand seal. “Let’s go into a room to talk, Chen Ping’an. Is there a suitable place, just enough to talk, doesn’t matter if there are stools or chairs.”

Chen Ping’an glanced at Lin Shouyi’s main room, the lights were already out. Lin Shouyi had probably been cultivating in the pavilion for too long, and was exhausted and already resting. He had to give up on this largest room, and nodded to the old man, “Let’s go to my room, there’s only a child named Li Huai sleeping there, waking him up won’t be a big deal. Lin Shouyi is a cultivator, there should be many rules, we shouldn’t disturb him.”

The sword spirit sat on the stone stool in the courtyard and smiled, “You guys talk, I don’t like listening to those things.”

Finally, the old scholar, Chen Ping’an, the youth Cui Chan, and Li BaoPing each sat on four stools, seated around a table. Li Huai was fast asleep in bed, a child with a bad sleeping posture, already sleeping sideways, his head hanging off the edge of the bed, yet he could still sleep soundly.

Chen Ping’an familiarly helped him straighten his body, tucked Li Huai’s arms and legs into the bedding, and gently padded the corners of the bedding on the left, right, and feet, so that the warmth inside the bedding would not easily escape. Finally, Li Huai looked like a wrapped **zongzi**.

Chen Ping’an finished these natural things, sat back on the stool, and Li BaoPing whispered, “Little Martial Uncle, do you also tuck my bedding corners every night?”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “You don’t need it. Your sleeping posture is much better than Li Huai’s. You fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, and then you can sleep motionless until dawn.”

Li BaoPing sighed and hit her palm with her fist, regretting, “If only I knew I should have had a bad sleeping posture since I was little. It’s all my elder brother’s fault, he tricked me into thinking that having a good sleeping posture would give me sweet dreams.”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “When I return to my hometown in the future, I will have to thank your elder brother properly.”

Throughout the journey, Li BaoPing talked most about her family, especially this elder brother, so Chen Ping’an had a good impression of this scholar who liked to hide in his study and read.

The old scholar looked at the little girl and asked with a smile, “Is your elder brother named Li Xisheng who lives on Fulu Street?”

Li BaoPing nodded, puzzled, “What’s wrong?”

The old scholar smiled, “This name is a bit grand.”

Cui Chan couldn’t help but roll his eyes when he heard this.

Li BaoPing was a little worried, “Is it bad if the name is too grand?”

The old scholar was even more amused, shaking his head and saying, “If it’s grand, as long as you can hold it down, it’s good.”

Li BaoPing was a little girl who loved to dwell on things. “Old sir, how do you know if you can hold it down?”

Cui Chan rolled his eyes again, *Oh no, this is going to be great. This old fellow who loves to teach others is definitely going to start preaching and impart knowledge.*

Sure enough, the old man glanced around, not seeing any snacks to go with wine, a little regretful, slowly said, “A pure and kind nature, great knowledge, high morality, and traveling ten thousand miles, all can hold it down.”

The little girl first placed the seal on the table, swayed her body, kicked off her straw sandals, sat cross-legged on the chair, crossed her arms, and frowned, “But my elder brother isn’t as amazing as the old sir said, or should I send a letter home and ask him to change his name?”

Cui Chan had to remind him, “Old man, can we talk about serious matters? **Dao**, **Dao**!”

Li BaoPing silently picked up the seal and breathed on the four seal characters on the bottom.

Cui Chan quickly shut up.

Even if the old man’s cultivation was heaven-defying, he still liked to reason, and the shameless approach worked.

But Chen Ping’an and Li BaoPing, the two guys favored by Qi Jingchun, one was a mud-legged fellow who had never read a book, and the other’s reading was completely off the rails. He, Cui Chan, was now a dragon stranded in shallow waters, played by fish. Facing these two, one big and one small, no matter how heroic and extraordinary Cui Chan was, it was useless, and there would be no other result than being beaten and humiliated. The harder the bone, the more suffering.

The old scholar produced a pot of wine, took a small sip, and glanced at the seal that the little girl had put back on the table, feeling a little sentimental.
Cui Chan was quite strange this evening. Although the old codger had moments of genuine emotion in the past, he was mostly a rigid and pedantic fellow, sitting like a golden statue on an altar. Especially during the years when his scholarship was most esteemed by the court and the public, how many “students” sat below, listening intently to his lectures on the meanings and difficulties of the classics? Emperors and generals, mountain immortals, virtuous gentlemen – a vast multitude. Even Cui Chan, who had betrayed his master, couldn’t deny that the old man was truly radiant back then, like the sun and moon hanging in the sky, his brilliance undiminished day and night, overshadowing the entire Milky Way.

But now, he was actually kicking him? And drinking while discussing the Great Dao?

Cui Chan appeared nonchalant, but his heart was heavy.

In the end, Cui Chan’s feelings toward the old man beside him were extremely complex – a mix of admiration and hatred, fear and nostalgia. As the former top disciple of the Literary Sage, how could Cui Chan not feel anger at his master’s failure to live up to his potential and sorrow for his misfortune?

Over by the bed, Li Huai was talking in his sleep, “A-Liang, A-Liang, I want meat! Stingy A-Liang, just give me a sip of the wine in your little gourd…”

Li Bao-ping’s eyes lit up. Li Huai’s embarrassing dream would provide gossip for days.

Hearing the name A-Liang, Cui Chan secretly glanced at the old man.

The old scholar coughed and looked at the three people present, “Alright, let’s get to the point. Chen Ping’an, Li Bao-ping, you should already know that I am Qi Jingchun’s teacher. And Cui Chan here was once my top disciple, Qi Jingchun’s eldest brother. Back then, because I was busy with my studies, Qi Jingchun’s reading, chess playing, etc., were indeed taught by my eldest disciple, Cui Chan. In the end, Cui Chan betrayed his master, committing all sorts of heinous acts. As for Qi Jingchun’s death in the Jade Pillar Grotto-heaven, Cui Chan can be considered a player in that chess game, and to say that Cui Chan was the murderer of his junior brother, Qi Jingchun, is not an overstatement. Ma Zhan, one of my registered disciples, is the same, except that Ma Zhan was not the one playing the chess, but the mastermind behind the scenes, a very crucial irrational move in the opening game. Before I arrived in your hometown, this body was just a place for Cui Chan to reside. The real Cui Chan is the National Teacher of your Great Li Dynasty, an old fellow who doesn’t look much younger than me.”

Li Bao-ping’s face was full of anger, her eyes red with fury as she stared intently at Cui Chan.

Chen Ping’an, on the other hand, frightened Cui Chan even more, his eyes lowered, making his expression unreadable.

A biting wild dog doesn’t show its teeth.

Cui Chan was all too familiar with Chen Ping’an’s character, after all, he had paid more attention to the young man’s growth in Mud Bottle Lane than Yang Old Man had.

Cui Chan tried his best to remain calm, but he muttered in his heart, “I’m doomed, I’m doomed. Old codger, you’re causing me so much trouble.”

The old scholar changed the subject and looked at Chen Ping’an, “There’s something I need to tell you in advance. If you agree, I want to extract a segment of your River of Time, not too much, just as an opening for tonight’s conversation. Are you willing?”

Chen Ping’an nodded, “Yes, I am.”

The old scholar extended a palm toward Chen Ping’an, who was sitting opposite him, and with a shake of his wrist and sleeve, wisps of mist appeared around Chen Ping’an, slowly flowing into the old man’s palm, eventually forming a crystal-clear, greenish-blue water orb. The old man turned his palm over, palm down, and gently wiped the water orb. The water flowed downwards onto the table, and vivid scenes appeared on the tabletop.

Li Bao-ping’s eyes widened, her face full of shock, and she quickly leaned over the table, “Wow, Little Martial Uncle, that’s the mountain road where we met the Bride Ghost! And there’s me! Haha, my little book case is still the prettiest, definitely not as dumb-looking as Lin Shouyi’s…”

From the moment the Bride Ghost appeared on the muddy path with her oil-paper umbrella, lanterns lit up one by one, and a spectacular fire dragon appeared in the mountains.

To Lin Shouyi casting a talisman and still being trapped in the ghost’s domain, not only failing to leave the Bride Ghost’s territory but also being tricked into going before the mansion with the plaque “Lofty Virtue and High Style.”

Finally, Sword Immortal Wei Jin of Wind Snow Temple arrived with a single sword strike that broke through all spells, successfully leading the group away from there.

The old scholar grabbed the table, and the segment of the River of Time re-accumulated into a ball, pushed it back towards Chen Ping’an, and dispersed back into the heavens and earth.

This supreme divine power, involving the origin of the Great Dao, without relying on the Saint’s Small World, without relying on mysterious magic weapons, the old man just did it so casually.

Li Bao-ping only felt it was magical and interesting.

Cui Chan, however, knew its worth and was even more surprised. What exactly was going on with the old man? His cultivation as a Saint was clearly gone, so why was he still so all-powerful?

The old scholar said softly, “Is this female ghost hateful? Of course, she’s hateful, killing innocent people indiscriminately, committing countless crimes. Is she pitiable? She’s also a bit pitiable. As a ghost, she was originally of good nature. To the court, she not only had the merit of suppressing luck, but to the local people, she did many good deeds. She even had an intimate relationship with scholars. It should have been a beautiful story, but in the end, both of them fell to this state, hated by gods and humans, rejected by the Great Dao, entangled in karma, and burdened with debts that they couldn’t repay in several lifetimes.”

The old scholar sighed, “So, the hateful must have their pitiable side, right?”

Cui Chan was on high alert, not daring to nod or shake his head.

Li Bao-ping quickly entered “kill the tiger blocking the road on the mountain” mode, seriously thinking for a moment, and said, “More hateful.”

The old scholar nodded and smiled at the little girl, “Then how much more hateful than pitiable? And how much pitiable?”

The little girl thought about it carefully, “Reasonable, lawful, and legitimate, rewind it and calculate it carefully?”

The old scholar asked with a smile, “Li Bao-ping, lawful and legitimate, of course, is not bad, but here’s the problem: how do you determine whether the laws of the world are good laws or bad laws?”

The little girl was stunned, seemingly never having thought about this question before, but she wasn’t shy and said to the old man, “Old sir, wait for me a moment, this question, like the last one from Little Martial Uncle, is still a bit big, I have to think about it carefully!”

The old scholar smiled kindly and praised, “Good.”

Cui Chan looked at the old man’s familiar smile, at the little girl’s concentrated and serious face, and snorted.

Worthy of being Qi Jingchun’s teacher and Qi Jingchun’s proud disciple, passing on the torch from generation to generation, even the atmosphere of the lesson was the same!
After stumping the little girl, the old scholar turned his gaze to Chen Pingan, whose eyes were clear and bright. “When I used to study and ponder difficult problems, I liked to consider the worst-case scenarios first. Today is no exception. ‘A hateful person must have a pitiable side.’ There’s nothing inherently wrong with this saying, but many self-proclaimed clever people in the world like to adopt a ‘everyone is drunk but I am sober’ posture, only discussing the pitiable aspects while deliberately omitting the hateful ones.”

“Some people are purely driven by excessive compassion and empathy. Furthermore, since the ‘hateful aspects’ haven’t been inflicted upon them directly, they don’t experience the same visceral pain. Instead, they enjoy pointing fingers, remaining bystanders, and demanding that others be unconditionally tolerant. Chen Pingan, where do you think the root of the problem lies? You should know that many of these people are well-read, and some are even skilled in empty rhetoric. Chen Pingan, what are your thoughts? Just say whatever comes to mind.”

Chen Pingan hesitated, finally saying, “I have nothing to say.”

Cui Chan, no longer concerned with Chen Pingan’s answer, began to silently deduce and contemplate why the old man would say such things.

The old scholar glanced at Li Bao Ping and Cui Chan on either side of him and slowly said, “Merits and demerits are judged by the hearts of men, the weight of good and evil is weighed by Yama, King of Hell. Why is this so? Because everyone’s moral cultivation, life experiences, and perspectives differ. The human heart is fickle. How many dare claim that their conscience is perfectly impartial and balanced?”

“Thus, the Legalists took a shortcut, lowering the bar for morality and propriety to the lowest possible level. Here, it can only be this high, no lower.”

As he said this, the old man extended a hand and drew a line below the table.

“Of course, these laws, as I said earlier, have the potential to be ‘evil laws.’ Here, I won’t elaborate further; otherwise, it would take three days and nights to explain. So, ultimately, laws are dead, and the human heart is alive. Laws without enforcement are deader than dead. Therefore, we must still seek solutions upwards.”

Saying this, the old scholar raised his hand and pointed to the roof.

The old man turned to look at Cui Chan. “Do you know why I answered your question so quickly back then?”

Why bring up unpleasant things?

Cui Chan angrily retorted, “Because you like and value Qi Jingchun more! You think my Cui Chan’s knowledge is just trash from the garbage bin, and even after you, the Literary Saint, unfolded and smoothed it out, you’d still find it too dirty to touch!”

The old man shook his head. “Because that question of yours, I had already contemplated for many years before you. No matter how I deduced it, there was only one conclusion: ‘A thousand-li dike is destroyed by an ant hole.’ Once the flood is unleashed, it will be unstoppable. Because it not only treats the symptoms but not the root cause, but also, on the premise that your foundation of knowledge isn’t solid enough, this school of thought, with its excellent initial intentions, will have major problems. It’s like a tall building; the taller and more magnificent you build it, the more easily it will collapse in a strong wind if the foundation is unstable, hurting and harming more people.”

Cui Chan was stunned, but he was still unconvinced.

The old man sighed, helpless. “You must understand that our Confucian Dao lineage has its ailments; it’s not perfect. So many rules, with the passage of time, cannot be foolproof and unchangeable. This is normal. If the earliest people were always right and said everything best, what would later generations do? Why even seek knowledge?”

“The method given by the Most Sage Teacher is the most general and pure, so it’s gentle and beneficial, a nourishing tonic that is entirely harmless. But the prerequisite for this tonic is that everyone consumes this ‘Confucian’ grain, right?”

“But sometimes, like a person, with the decline of bodily functions or due to exposure to the elements, one will fall ill. A nourishing tonic cannot provide immediate results nor save lives. This requires medicinal treatment.”

“But every medicine has its toxicity, requiring utmost caution. Ancient sages only dared to say which herbs were medicinal and which were poisonous after tasting hundreds of herbs.”

“Are you, Cui Chan, with your impatient nature, truly willing to put in this effort? Your junior brother Qi Jingchun has reminded you many times that you, Cui Chan, are too clever, your ambitions are too high, and you never like to work at the low level. How can this be? If you were just squabbling children, only wanting to be a Mountain Master of a academy or Grand Sacrificial Official of an Imperial Academy, then even if the river you dredge has countless holes in its banks, someone can save it when the flood finally breaks. But if your knowledge becomes the mainstream within the Confucian Dao lineage, who will save it when problems arise? Me? Or the Sage of Rites? Or the Most Sage Teacher? Even if these figures intervene to help, how can you, Cui Chan, be sure that the Saints of Buddhism and Taoism won’t make trouble? Won’t turn this Vast Heaven into a world for promoting their respective doctrines?”

Cui Chan was still unwilling to concede.

The old scholar was somewhat weary. “This school of pragmatic learning of yours, although I thought of it earlier, you immersed yourself in it and thought even further than I did. In the end, I was also somewhat moved, thinking whether we could give it a try. So, that true ‘Three-Four Controversy’ hidden beneath the surface was about the two great dynasties in the Central Earth Divine Continent each promoting ‘rites and music’ and ‘pragmatism,’ and then seeing their respective successes and failures after sixty years. Of course, the ending is known to all: I lost, so I had to imprison myself in the Forest of Merit.”

Cui Chan was filled with disbelief. He suddenly stood up. “You’re lying!”

The old man said calmly, “Forgot again? When arguing with others, your mentality must be impartial and balanced, not driven by emotions.”

Cui Chan slumped back into his seat, dejected, muttering, “How could you bet on this? How could I have lost…”

The old scholar turned to look towards the courtyard. “Pay attention. Don’t take it lightly.”

The tall woman replied lazily, “I know.”

Only then did the old scholar take a large gulp of wine, self-deprecatingly saying, “Drowning sorrows in alcohol, and alcohol bolstering the courage of cowards.”

The old scholar put down the wine jug, straightened his robes, and slowly said, “The Sage of Rites has filled this righteous world of ours with two characters. Cui Chan, what is the interpretation?”

Cui Chan subconsciously answered, “Order!”

Immediately after blurting it out, Cui Chan was filled with regret and remorse.
The old man’s expression was solemn and dignified as he nodded, his voice deep, “Indeed, rituals and rules are order. The Second Sage of my Confucian Dao lineage, the Sage of Rites, pursued an order, a world where all things are orderly and follow the rules. These rules were painstakingly ‘snatched back’ from the Great Dao, one horizontal line, one vertical line, one rule at a time, by the Sage of Rites. Only then did he build what he himself mocked as a ‘broken thatched hut’ to shelter the common people from wind and rain. The hut is vast, so vast that almost everyone, in their lifelong pursuit of knowledge, cannot reach its walls, so vast that no matter how high a cultivator’s realm, they cannot touch its roof. Therefore, this is the freedom and stability of all living beings.”

Cui Chan coldly laughed, “Then what about Qi Jingchun? His learning touched the roof. What about Aliang? His cultivation crashed into the wall. What should be done at this time? What about these people? Why shouldn’t these darlings of heaven in the human world be allowed to forge their own path, open the door of the house built by the Sage of Rites, and go elsewhere to build a brand new thatched hut?!”

Saying this, Cui Chan subconsciously reached out and pointed to the door of the room.

At this moment, the white-clothed youth’s face was full of sharpness, his aura imposing.

From this, it could be seen that Cui Chan had involuntarily thrown himself into it wholeheartedly, perhaps not only with the thoughts of the young Cui Chan but also with the subconscious of the most complete Cui Chan deep within his soul.

The old man smiled, “Pursuing the absolute freedom in your hearts? You can, but what assurance do you have that you will ultimately walk through that door, and not punch through the wall or crash through the roof? Causing this thatched hut, which originally sheltered you from wind and rain and allowed you to grow to your eventual height, to suddenly become battered and leaking from all sides?”

Cui Chan laughed loudly, “Old man, you yourself said it’s absolute freedom, why bother with these things?! And why do you decide that the new house we build after breaking down the old one won’t be even grander and more stable than before?”

The old man smiled, “Oh? Doesn’t that return to my Dao origin? You, Cui Chan, haven’t even broken my mold, yet you want to break the order of the Sage of Rites?”

Cui Chan angrily said, “How is that inherent human evil? Old man, you’re talking nonsense!”

The old man calmly said, “Don’t ask me about this question. I’m giving you a chance, using this rare opportunity of a complete soul, to ask your own heart.”

Cui Chan was stunned, as if turned to wood.

Finally, it seemed as if only the old scholar and Chen Ping’an remained between heaven and earth, one old and one young, sitting face to face.

The old man smiled faintly, “The Sage of Rites wants order, everyone understands the rules, and hopes everyone follows the rules. Later, the wandering scholars who spread knowledge, when they became aristocratic families, gave rise to the Imperial Tutor school. Later, there was the imperial examination, broadly recruiting the poor and humble, teaching without discrimination, providing the possibility of carp leaping over the dragon gate, so that poor families no longer lack talented children. The rules are comprehensive, laborious, and the more one goes on, the more restless people’s hearts become, and the more thankless the task becomes. Human nature is inherently evil; how many people in the world, after eating their fill, put down their chopsticks and curse their mothers?”

The old man raised his head and looked at the youth, “So, what I am looking for now are two words: Sequence.”

The old man spoke to himself, “I only want to sort out a sequence for all things in the world. For example, that hateful and pitiful, the crux of the problem lies in the fact that the Sage of Rites has already taught the world enough criteria for judging ‘hateful’ and ‘pitiful,’ but the world does not sufficiently understand a ‘distinction between what comes first and what comes after.’ You haven’t even sorted out ‘hateful’ yet, and you run off to care about ‘pitiful’; how can that work? Right?”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

The old man asked with a smile, “Just listening to the words, isn’t the term ‘sequence’ far inferior to the term ‘order’?”

Chen Ping’an frowned deeply.

The old man laughed heartily, not caring how much the youth could understand, amusing himself and taking a sip of wine, “If these two words are placed within the broken thatched hut of the Sage of Rites, then they can only be considered patching and mending. At most, I’m just a cobbler of morality and rites. But if these two words are placed in a far greater and broader place, then that would be extraordinary.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Where?”

The old man picked up the wine pot, placed it in the center of the table, then spread out his palm and heavily wiped it across the table, “Looking at it this way, the wine pot, this broken thatched hut, is just a resting place on the bank of the River of Time. But…”

The old man paused slightly, smiling, “What is the shape of this River of Time? The key depends on the riverbed. Although the two complement each other, there truly exists ‘purposeful action.’ There are many sayings in the world: flowing downstream, going with the flow. So I want to try.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “The Sage of Rites wants people to live safely within the rules, sometimes having to sacrifice a small number of people’s… absolute freedom? And you, old sir, hope that everyone follows your sequence, walking forward on the Great Dao you have drawn?”

The old man added with a smile, “Don’t think that I am bossing people around. My sequence will not be excessive. It is only exerting effort at the source of the Great Dao. Afterward, the water flows branch, each flowing into the sea, or merging along the way to become lakes, or continuing to flow, all are their own freedom.”

The old man leaned forward, took out the wine pot, took a sip of wine, and asked with a smile, “Chen Ping’an, what do you think? Are you willing to become my disciple according to Qi Jingchun’s arrangement?”

Chen Ping’an hesitated again, appearing as if he wanted to say something but stopped.

The old man smiled gently, amiable and kind, and repeated once more, “Just say what you think, don’t worry about right or wrong. There are no outsiders here.”

The youth took a deep breath, straightened his back, supported himself on his knees with his fists, and said methodically, “Because I haven’t truly read books, I don’t know what the Sage of Rites’ order is, and I can’t even comprehend the essence of your sequence, old sir.”

The old man smiled faintly, “Continue, speak boldly. In my life, I have seen very bad people and very terrible things. My temper has been tempered well.”

Chen Ping’an’s eyes became brighter, “In the small town, I killed Cai Jinjian for myself, I risked my life with the Mountain-Moving Ape for my friend Liu Xianyang, and later I promised Mr. Qi to escort Li Baoping and the others to study. Later, I promised the Immortal Sister to become a Qi refiner. I did these things with peace of mind. Once I nodded, I just did it. There was no need to think about anything.”
Chen Pingan continued, “Earlier, old mister, you said a lot, and I was listening attentively. After thinking about some of it, I felt it made a lot of sense, like the ‘hateful and pitiable’ place. I think that’s very right, and the order can’t be wrong. So, at the time, I wanted to say that I really wanted to kill that married-woman ghost back then, and now I want to kill her even more, and I will definitely kill her in the future. I want to tell her that no matter how wronged you feel, it’s not a reason to transfer your pain to innocent people. I want to tell her personally, you have your pitiable side, but you deserve to die!”

This Mud Bottle Alley youth, who always gave people a gentle impression, was at this moment incomparably sharp.

Chen Pingan’s tone became more determined, and he slowly said, “But those things that I can’t figure out, even things that I might never be able to think that far ahead, I won’t take them into my own hands. Because if even I myself feel I can’t do it, why should I promise others? Just because I’m embarrassed? Because not agreeing will disappoint others? But the answer to the question is very simple. If you agree but never have the confidence to do it, wouldn’t others be even more disappointed in the future?”

The old scholar restrained his smile, his face serious. After pondering for a moment, he was slightly lost in thought, habitually reaching out with two fingers, as if picking up a peanut from a plate.

In the small courtyard, the tall woman narrowed her eyes and smiled.

Didn’t the young man righteously and sternly refuse her when she deliberately put on a resentful and heartbroken appearance earlier?

If it were Ma Ku Xuan or Xie Shi Cao Xi and the like?

Would they risk offending a sword spirit who had lived for tens of thousands of years and with whom they would need to rely on each other in the future, all for the sake of a girl who was already far away and whom they had only known for a month?

Is this a small matter?

It is a small matter.

But it is definitely not a small matter.

The struggle for the Great Dao is long and arduous. Some subtle soul-searching questions are too terrifying. This is the most unpredictable treacherous terrain.

Whenever a cultivator’s cultivation level is higher and closer to the sky, the flaws in his state of mind will be infinitely magnified. For example, if Daozu (Taoist Ancestor)’s flaw is only the size of a mustard seed, once it is transformed into reality, it would probably be even larger than the hole punched through the Yellow River Grotto by a sword.

For example, in that seemingly trivial river of time, if that little child from Mud Bottle Alley, under the “kind” invitation of the stall vendor, had chosen that free candied hawthorn skewer, taken it, happily eaten it, and then hopped and skipped back to the ancestral house in Mud Bottle Alley, eating the candied hawthorns cleanly and casually throwing away the bamboo skewer, seemingly nothing would have happened, but would really nothing have happened?

Would the young Chen Pingan still have the opportunity he has today?

Inside the house, Chen Pingan looked at the old man, “Even if it’s something that Mr. Qi wants me to do, if I feel I can’t do it, I still won’t agree. Just like some things, I’ve thought about them seriously and feel they’re still wrong. Then, even if someone holds a knife to my neck, I will still tell him, no matter who he is, that this is wrong.”

The young man’s tone was very steady.

Chen Pingan finally said, “I’m simply not the kind of person who can take a field of knowledge very far. Reading and writing, for me, is just a very simple thing. It’s just so that I can write Spring Festival couplets myself and paste them on the door of my house, and later write tombstones for my parents. At most, it’s to read out some principles of how to be a person. I definitely don’t have too many ideas. So, old mister, I won’t become your disciple.”

Cui Chan’s face turned pale, and he was sweating profusely as he listened.

Even Li Baoping felt that things were not good and secretly picked up that seal from the table, preparing to use it to hit someone, whether it was the bad guy Cui Chan or the teacher’s teacher, she didn’t care; her Little Shishu (Junior Uncle-Master) was the greatest in the world.

The old man just asked with a kind expression, “Is this what you think now? If in the future you think that you were wrong before, will you change your mind and turn around to beg me to take you as a disciple?”

Chen Pingan said without hesitation, “Of course! But if you don’t want to take me as a student by then, I won’t force it. I’ll probably have regrets, but definitely not many.”

The old man looked strange. “I am a dignified Literary Saint, a saint whose divine position was ranked among the top few in the Confucian Temple. It’s a great blessing to want to take you as a closed-door disciple, a good thing and a great opportunity suddenly falling on your head. Shouldn’t you hurry up and take it, secure it first? If there’s a problem, anyway, you have your own teacher to stand in front of you, what are you afraid of? How you look at it, it’s all a good thing with a hundred benefits and no harm.”

Chen Pingan suddenly said a sentence, “Don’t take a single step for things that go against your heart.”

The old man sighed heavily, “Since the time is not right, I won’t force things.”

The old man then smiled, “If we can’t become teacher and disciple, this old guy is very disappointed, but I expect Qi Jingchun is not disappointed at all. This kind of Chen Pingan is very stubborn, just like Qi Jingchun when he was young. Perhaps that’s why he was willing to bow and return the greeting to you in the alley back then.”

Chen Pingan was confused by what he heard.

The old scholar had slowly stood up, looking at the three children. “Sitting and discussing the Dao is a very good thing.”

The old scholar smiled. “But don’t forget that getting up and putting it into practice is even more important, otherwise all moral writings will lose their foothold.”

The old scholar suddenly began to enjoy himself, smiling brightly, with his hands behind his back, shaking his head and swaying as he walked out of the house, tut-tutting and saying, “The old mister sits and discusses the Dao, the young man gets up and puts it into practice. Good, very good!”

Li Baoping angrily said, “Only the young man, what about me?!”

The old man opened the door and laughed heartily, “Right, right, right, and the little girl Li Baoping from Baoping Continent!”

Chen Pingan thought to himself, “Sitting and discussing the Dao, getting up and putting it into practice. This principle is well said, I must remember it.”

The young Cui Chan sat blankly in place, suddenly shuddered, came back to his senses, and hurriedly stood up, bowing to Chen Pingan and saying, “Teacher!”

Chen Pingan said helplessly, “Why are you here again?”

Cui Chan joked with a cheeky smile, “Teacher wanted to kill me earlier, didn’t you intentionally want to avoid paying back the money? It’s several thousand taels of silver.”

Chen Pingan calmly said, “If I, Chen Pingan, kill you tonight, I will definitely help you build a tomb worth two thousand taels of silver as soon as I have silver in the future.”

Cui Chan’s face was awkward, and in the end, he only choked out one sentence, “I thank you!”

(End of chapter)