The verdant jade sword resting in his palm was named Fifteen.

Chen Ping’an couldn’t help but feel its name was chosen even more haphazardly than his own.

He distinctly felt a cool sensation permeating his skin, yet it soon morphed into a comforting warmth, bathing his entire being as if basking in the winter sun. Chen Ping’an noticed the mystical energy flowing along his meridians, gently traversing each of his Qi cavities, finally settling within the cavity where a wisp of sword qi had previously been hidden. There, within the spacious “residence,” it leisurely spun, echoing the other Qi cavity where the silver sword embryo resided.

Old Man Yang exhaled a plume of smoke rings, nodding. “Unexpectedly, this sword seems to resonate with you. It shouldn’t have gone so smoothly. I was prepared to see you through, to help you initially subdue the flying sword within one of your cavities, relying on your perseverance to eventually command it.”

The old man, utilizing his divine sense, observed the exceptionally docile and serene flying sword within Chen Ping’an’s Qi cavity. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “I am rather curious and have two questions for you. Feel free to answer as you see fit. Chen Ping’an, you’ve practiced your boxing for so long, yet only have one foot on the threshold of the Third Realm. Are you anxious? Secondly, what thoughts have propelled you forward in your boxing practice, sustaining you until today?”

Chen Ping’an honestly replied, “Yes, I do get anxious, but I know it’s futile. Like firing pottery, the more I rush, the more mistakes I make. So I try not to dwell on it. Sometimes, when I can’t stop the thoughts, I let my mind go blank, relying on instinct to practice my footwork, or I find a place with a wide view and practice the Sword Forge stance. If that doesn’t work, I read and practice calligraphy. If even that fails, I’m out of ideas, and I simply let my mind wander, like thinking about how much money I currently possess…”

At this, Chen Ping’an felt a tinge of embarrassment.

Old Man Yang’s expression remained unchanged. “Continue with the second question.”

Chen Ping’an instinctively straightened his back, not intending to conceal anything. He was unwilling to be secretive, like a pauper with bare walls, boasting about his most valuable possession, filled with unreasonable confidence. “I had a fight on the Embroidery River and became increasingly certain of one thing: when I believe I am right, regardless of who my opponent is, every strike I throw can be incredibly fast! And each next one will only be faster!”

Old Man Yang inquired, “Fast? Even if you threw ten thousand, a hundred thousand punches, could you even touch the hem of my robe?”

Chen Ping’an showed no discouragement, naturally exclaiming, “I compete with myself first. Once I feel that I’m clear in my conscience, then I compete with others!”

Old Man Yang hummed in acknowledgment. “Thinking that way is right for you.”

Ma Kuixuan, who also hailed from a small town, was an extreme example on another path, seeking to be truly above all others, a leader among his peers. This wasn’t because Ma Kuixuan was overly arrogant, but because his natural talent and foundation were simply too exceptional. Not thinking that way would be a waste of his gifts. To not accept what Heaven grants is to suffer the consequences.

As for the plain-looking youth before him, who had just removed his jade hairpin, he seemed to be on another path entirely. Initially unremarkable, a second glance still revealed nothing special. No matter how many times one looked, the most one might think was that he wasn’t too bad, not as foolish and inept as he seemed, with a hint of potential. Then most people would cease to pay attention.

Old Man Yang said solemnly, “I will teach you two sets of incantations to control ‘Fifteen’, one for nurturing the sword essence, and one for opening and closing the spatial pocket.”

Chen Ping’an preemptively asked, “Won’t there be a conflict if I simultaneously nurture two flying swords within my body?”

Old Man Yang scoffed. “Ruan Qiong doesn’t have two natal swords? And that’s with him being distracted by forging and seeking Dao, requiring the consumption of vast amounts of rare materials, and some personal matters. Otherwise, with his talent and wealth, nurturing two more wouldn’t be a problem. Natal flying swords depend on fate. If the time isn’t right, a hundred years of searching will be in vain. When the time is ripe, it cannot be stopped. However, a natal sword is not like mustering troops on a battlefield, where the more, the better. Sword cultivators dream of reaching a realm known as ‘One Sword Breaks All Laws’. Why not ‘Two Swords’ or ‘Three Swords’? Because truly enlightened, peak sword cultivators only need one flying sword that suits their heart. Any more would be a burden. As for you, Chen Ping’an, boxing is to preserve your life, why practice swordsmanship, I am too lazy to guess. But as for external magic treasures and items, are you the type to think you have too much? Are you like hoarding copper coins? Does it bother you when carrying too much money in your pockets? Would you?”

Chen Ping’an felt a bit embarrassed, scratching his head. “How big exactly is the space within ‘Fifteen’? How much can it hold?”

Old Man Yang chuckled. “About the same length, width, and height as your locust wood sword. Not bad, better than ordinary spatial items. It can’t hold a mountain of gold and silver, but at least you won’t have to carry a large bamboo basket around the world. Remember, do not put living things into spatial pockets. For example, the sword embryo Early One. If you forcibly absorb it, it will violate certain rules of the ‘blessed land’ and lead to mutual destruction. You’ll be heartbroken then.”

Afterward, Old Man Yang imparted two sets of incantations to Chen Ping’an, repeating them twice. Once Chen Ping’an had committed them to memory, the old man continued to smoke his pipe, the smoke rising in wisps.

In the darkness, Chen Ping’an seemed to have constructed a single-plank bridge with the emerald jade sword within his Qi cavity, able to converse with it. The sensation was indescribable.

With a thought, Chen Ping’an’s spirit trembled slightly, and the flying sword emerged from his body without resistance. However, he couldn’t stop it, and it flew straight toward Old Man Yang. Old Man Yang didn’t even blink. The emerald, miniature flying sword crashed into an invisible wall, dizzyingly rebounding back toward Chen Ping’an. It flashed away, quickly returning to his Qi cavity, like an angry child unwilling to heed Chen Ping’an’s mental summons.

Chen Ping’an was somewhat alarmed and flustered.

Old Man Yang found it amusing, slowly saying, “Each previous owner of Fifteen was quite famous, never encountering such an inept master like you. Naturally, it feels ashamed by your poor sword control and is unwilling to show its face. It’s alright, as long as you practice diligently, the connection between you will become closer. When you truly earn its recognition, you, as the master, will gain more control. Even ordering it to shatter itself and dissipate into the world will not be difficult.”

Chen Ping’an nodded, relieved. As long as he could do better by diligently working hard, Chen Ping’an wasn’t afraid.

He was afraid of things he couldn’t do well no matter how hard he tried, such as firing pottery.
Old Yang Head suddenly said, “Do you know why Fifteen, despite knowing your aptitude is only average, still chooses to share weal and woe with you? Because you thought of the crucial word ‘fast.’ This fundamentally aligns with Fifteen’s sword intent. Fifteen’s flying sword is all about speed, so fast that it catches opponents off guard, seizing the initiative and achieving unmatched dominance.”

Chen Ping’an had a sudden realization, and at the same time, he thought of the sword embryo originally named “Little Fengdu.” The reason it clashed with him was probably because he hadn’t yet grasped its sword intent.

Old Yang Head waved his hand, “Move around less recently, and quietly await Ruan Qiong’s news.”

Chen Ping’an hesitated.

The old man said in annoyance, “New Year’s greetings? Let’s not even talk about whether I’d make an exception to accept them. Do you have anything that would catch my eye? And even if you did, would you be willing to give it? Go, go, go. Now that we’ve finished with important matters, quickly return to your Fallen Mountain. As for your belongings at the blacksmith shop, I’ll have someone bring them to you. Your presence near the Sword Furnace is too conspicuous and inappropriate.”

Chen Ping’an knew the old man’s temperament, so he didn’t dawdle. He stood up and left Old Yang’s apothecary.

But just as he stepped out of the apothecary’s door, Chen Ping’an couldn’t help but turn back. He went past the side room and saw the old man sitting there, puffing on his pipe. Chen Ping’an bowed deeply to the old man.

Old Yang Head accepted it without pretense.

After Chen Ping’an left again, the old man tapped the yellowish bamboo pipe, his thoughts wandering.

Over the long years, the old man had secretly done countless deals. Even now, he still didn’t have much faith in that boy. Some people were truly blessed, blessed to the point of being considered divinely favored. They would often continue to be lucky until the arrival of a misfortune, leading to a cataclysmic event, both tragic and heroic. But those with tough lives still found it hard to rise. They go up and down, down and up. Truly wanting to climb high was difficult. They were easily left behind by those favored by the heavens, trailing behind them and eating their dust.

Chen Ping’an was like a weed beside the old man’s farmland, repeatedly flattened by the wind and rain, barely clinging to life, possibly ignored even by a peeing dog. But every time the spring breeze blew, it brought a new outlook for the new year.

So, Old Yang Head was willing to go with the flow, placing a small bet on this originally least-favored youth. A small gamble was harmless, losing wouldn’t be crippling, and winning would be an extra surprise.

For those with good fortune, they should strike while the iron is hot.

For those with tough lives, they have more stamina for the long run.

But Old Yang Head knew the direction of the grand scheme, the era of great contention, with a hundred schools of thought vying for prominence, heroes rising together. It would be a “great vintage” year for the emergence of geniuses, a once-in-a-millennium event.

On the path of cultivation, one step behind is a slow down for life. Chen Ping’an, it will be difficult for you to stand out.

Chen Ping’an walked down the small street, muttering to himself, “Fifteen, I’m sorry for making you lose face. I’ll definitely practice the sword control incantations in the future, so I won’t embarrass myself like today.”

Chen Ping’an did feel somewhat ashamed.

When others showed him kindness, if he couldn’t do anything in return, Chen Ping’an would feel uneasy.

The emerald flying sword within his Qi Palace jumped slightly, as if its mood had instantly improved, forgiving Chen Ping’an’s previously laughable sword control.

Chen Ping’an couldn’t help but smile, thinking that compared to the volatile First, Fifteen was much gentler, even though they were both natal swords.

As soon as Chen Ping’an had this thought, the sword embryo First began to leave its nest, wreaking havoc, causing Chen Ping’an to hunch over, rooted to the spot, unable to take a single step.

Fifteen sensed the abnormality and shot out of the Qi Palace, quickly traversing through the multiple barriers, finally arriving at First’s “doorstep,” hovering in the air, gently spinning, as if hesitating whether to pay a visit.

Chen Ping’an couldn’t move normally, so he had to struggle to the steps at the street intersection and sit down.

Perhaps drawn by the flying sword Fifteen, the sword embryo First let Chen Ping’an off the hook.

The two natal swords, each “misfortunate” in their choice of owner, hovered inside and outside the Qi Palace, both like an imposing confrontation and a hesitant encounter.

Taking advantage of this respite, Chen Ping’an quickly gasped for breath and rested briefly before jogging towards Riding Dragon Lane, calling on the green-robed boy and the pink-skirted girl, and returning to Fallen Mountain.

First didn’t see Fifteen.

They parted on unfriendly terms.

Nearing True Pearl Mountain, First tormented Chen Ping’an once again, almost making him roll on the ground. He had to grit his teeth and squat down, sweating profusely, almost blacking out. Chen Ping’an could only desperately circulate the Eighteen Stops breathing technique. Because he had broken through the great bottleneck between six and seven, Chen Ping’an could barely maintain that little bit of spiritual clarity in the tug-of-war with the sword embryo. But the price he paid for this was that he clearly perceived the immense pain brought about by all the soul vibrations. This torment was no less than the suffering of being skinned alive or subjected to slow slicing.

Fifteen was restless, but it still didn’t leave its habitat, seeming to be watching from the sidelines while making a decision.

When First was satisfied and returned to calm, Chen Ping’an was almost as if he’d been fished out of water, staggering onward, walking unsteadily, swaying back and forth. But even Chen Ping’an didn’t realize that the fist intent flowing through him was becoming more solid and profound.

In the mountains, there was a ragged, barefoot old man, his vision blurry, running around like a headless fly, stumbling and repeating, “Where is Mr. Chanchan? Where is my Mr. Chanchan…”

In an instant, the mad old man’s eyes suddenly brightened a little. He looked around, but didn’t leap up or fly through the wind. Instead, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, carefully examined the mountain’s terrain, and then stepped directly in front of the group of three. The old man looked at the sweating boy walking the stance and asked, “Are you called Chen Ping’an?”

Chen Ping’an tensed up and nodded, “Yes, sir. Do you have something to ask me?”

The green-robed boy’s eyes were dull, his heart as dead as ashes.

What? After leaving the small town, he thought he was free as a bird, but now, even walking on a remote mountain path, there were immortal demons who could kill him with a single punch?

The old man looked anxious and hurriedly asked, “I am Cui Chanchan… I am Cui Chan’s grandfather. Are you currently his teacher?”
Chen Ping’an was taken aback for a moment, and became even more cautious, “I suppose so.”

The old man spoke extremely fast, “How is he doing these days? Is he being bullied?”

Chen Ping’an thought about it, finding it difficult to answer. Because the young national preceptor, Cui Chan, or rather, Cui Dongshan on his journey to the Cliff Academy, hadn’t been having a good time. Chen Ping’an didn’t want to deceive this ragged old man who claimed to be Cui Chan’s grandfather, but he also didn’t dare tell the truth. Subconsciously, Chen Ping’an felt that the old man in front of him had a similar aura to the mountain-moving ape of Zheng Yang Mountain, but the only difference lay in their cultivation levels. As for whether the mountain-moving ape was stronger, or the old man before him, Chen Ping’an’s cultivation was too low to discern the depth of either.

The old man simply furrowed his brow, causing Chen Ping’an and the two little spirits to feel a suffocating pressure. The old man coldly snorted, “Although you are my grandson’s teacher, I should respect you. But how can a pure martial artist who hasn’t even reached the third realm be worthy to instruct my grandson?! If my grandson encounters trouble in the future, will you, as his teacher, just stand by helplessly and watch from afar?! No, absolutely not!”

The disheveled old man’s eyes were sharp as knives, staring intently at Chen Ping’an, “Take me to a place you consider safe! I want to lend you a hand!”

Before Chen Ping’an could nod or shake his head, the old man stood by Chen Ping’an’s side, his five fingers like hooks grabbing Chen Ping’an’s shoulder, “Speak quickly! Time waits for no one! I’ll only be lucid for the time it takes an incense stick to burn! Don’t waste time!”

Chen Ping’an was utterly confused.

But the old man’s casual grip on his shoulder caused Chen Ping’an excruciating pain, and even the two flying swords, First and Fifteenth, hummed and wailed. After all, the power they could unleash was closely related to Chen Ping’an’s cultivation level, so they were currently unable to come out and stop the old man’s aggressive actions.

The green-clad boy and the pink-skirted girl didn’t dare to move, not because they didn’t want to, but because they couldn’t.

It was said that the world’s top pure martial artists, such as those in the ninth realm, the Pinnacle Realm, could condense their aura and release it like a torrent of sword energy, unstoppable. It was not uncommon, whether in the martial world or on the battlefield, for a single roar to shatter an enemy’s courage.

The old man roared, “Speak! If you dawdle any longer, I don’t care if you’re my grandson’s teacher or not, I’ll break your limbs with a single punch!”

Chen Ping’an’s eyes were firm. He gritted his teeth, mustered his qi, and prepared to fight to the death, seeking a chance of survival for himself.

The old man met his gaze, laughed heartily, released the boy’s shoulder, took a step back, and exclaimed, “Little brat, you have some skill! Not bad, not bad, you’re a good piece of material! If you fell into the hands of some other inept martial arts master, even with all the effort they put into sculpting you, you wouldn’t amount to much. But I’m different!”

Wei Bo, dressed in white robes, appeared ethereal on the mountain path. After a moment of silence, he smiled at Chen Ping’an and said, “Why not take this old gentleman to the bamboo building? If you agree, I’ll lead the way.”

The old man looked at Wei Bo, “Oh ho, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a presentable mountain god. Interesting, interesting. When I recover some strength, I’ll definitely find you for a spar.”

Wei Bo smiled, “Old gentleman, don’t bother sparring with me. Just focus on honing your grandson’s teacher’s martial arts realm. I imagine that will keep you busy enough.”

The old man’s face was full of mocking smiles, “Enough nonsense. Take me to Chen Ping’an’s territory, what’s it called, Falling Mountain? I know there’s a place there suitable for sharpening the blade. Lead the way!”

Wei Bo was not at all annoyed by the old man’s overbearing manner. He nodded with a smile, snapped his fingers, and the landscape shifted, instantly transporting the group outside the bamboo building on Falling Mountain.

Chen Ping’an looked at Wei Bo, who nodded lightly.

The old man grabbed his shoulder, leaped lightly to the second floor, and pushed open the door with Chen Ping’an. The old man raised an eyebrow and laughed heartily, “Good place, truly a good place! I can stay awake for at least an hour or two each day. It’s no less than a blessed land. Finally, there’s a bit of the aura of my Chan’s teacher about this place!”

The old man took a few steps back, “Chen Ping’an, can you endure hardship?”

Chen Ping’an, who had been confused from beginning to end, nodded instinctively, “I can.”

The old man asked again, “Can you endure great hardship?”

Chen Ping’an dared not answer this question.

The old man was somewhat displeased, grumbling, “Like a little girl! If you can, you can! If you can’t, you can’t! What’s the big deal! You’re too indecisive. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t be willing to serve!”

Chen Ping’an silently told himself that the old man in front of him was not of sound mind and that he shouldn’t take it to heart. He would just let him say whatever he wanted.

The old man stepped forward with one foot, assuming a simple, ancient boxing stance, one fist extended forward, suspended in the air, the other drawn back, close to his chest. In an instant, his aura became astonishing.

The old man said in a deep voice, “One must endure the bitterest of the bitter to become the best of men. We martial artists, if we want to rise to the top, must become like stray dogs scavenging for food on the roadside! We must tell ourselves that if we want to live freely and happily, we must fight against the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth! Fight against the damned gods! Fight against our peers in martial arts! And finally, fight against ourselves! Fight for that one breath!”

“When that one breath is exhaled, it must cause the heavens and earth to change color! It must make the gods kneel and kowtow! It must make all the martial artists in the world feel that you are the heavens above!”

At this moment, the white-haired old man, whose appearance was clearly worse than a beggar’s, possessed unparalleled majesty and an extraordinary spirit!

The old man seemed to be clearly teaching the young man a principle.

The person before him was invincible!