After Cao Xi, with his boisterous manner of speaking, departed, the Xie residence was immediately restored to tranquility. The entire household, from the matriarch to her children, to the elderly servants, all walked with light steps, fearing to disturb Xie Shi’s rest. These past few days had been surreal for the Xie family. A living ancestor had suddenly emerged from the ancient, moth-eaten family genealogy, a figure who had witnessed countless cycles of spring and autumn.

Perhaps only the taciturn, long-browed youth maintained a relatively steady state of mind, as Xie Shi had explained the world outside and arranged for him to apprentice with Ruan Qiong in sword-forging. Fate, he stressed, wasn’t necessarily improved by clinging to an ancestral figure. The youth possessed a resolute nature. Even upon learning that his ancestor Xie Shi would soon become the first Celestial Monarch of the northern Julu Continent, surpassing even his master Ruan Qiong in both cultivation and status, he showed no inclination to switch allegiances. This earned him Xie Shi’s quiet approval, a testament to the fortitude expected of Xie family descendants.

The youth remained unaware that if his resolve had wavered even slightly, Xie Shi would have abandoned any intention of nurturing him, and might even have cautioned Ruan Qiong, lest a weak seed bring misfortune to the family.

This would have meant the youth would almost certainly lose all possibility of attaining immortality and restoring the family’s honor.

When immortal masters on the mountains, particularly Taoist deities, accept disciples, they place immense importance on cultivating the heart. This often isn’t settled within a few years; often, the master will wander for decades before finding a satisfactory disciple to inherit their legacy. During this time, many masters will administer various tests: wealth, life and death, love – all the major worldly concerns are obstacles on the path to immortality. Whether one remains a mere fish in the river or leaps through the dragon gate often depends on a single, pivotal decision.

The Great Dao is a vast and endless journey. Every cultivator who reaches the tenth realm, especially the upper five, is, without exception, a prodigy of unparalleled talent.

However, the path to the summit is diverse, and each cultivator has their own unique opportunities. A disposition that Celestial Monarch Xie Shi dislikes might be considered a diamond in the rough by another sage or unorthodox practitioner. Hence the saying, “Heaven never seals off all paths.”

Of course, Xie Shi’s position is lofty, and his standards are naturally high. In truth, the long-browed youth’s aptitude would make him a highly sought-after candidate for cultivation among the immortal sects of the Precious Bottle Continent. They would undoubtedly accept him as a disciple first and foremost. Adding a cultivator of the middle five realms to their ranks would greatly enhance their ability to deter worldly emperors and maintain delicate relations with neighboring mountain sects. They would never be as fastidious as Celestial Monarch Xie.

Xie Shi slowly sipped his wine, a troubled expression on his face.

“Venerable Ancestor, are you worried?” the long-browed youth asked from across the table. Two exceptionally fine spirit figurines, seeing that no outsiders were present, leaped from the plaque above the hall, chasing and playing on the youth’s shoulders and head. He was long accustomed to this sight.

Xie Shi drank his wine in silence. “A guilty conscience, perhaps.”

The long-browed youth was taken aback. “An ancestor as powerful as you still needs to do things against your will?”

Xie Shi smiled. “You’ll feel the same discomfort one day. No need to be so surprised. Your nature is more straightforward than clever. Learning the sword is good for you. Taoism emphasizes serenity, which might sound like stagnant water, but it requires constant introspection. Every principle is a challenge.”

The Xie family youth nodded.

Xie Shi looked at the slightly immature face, sighing inwardly.

A chaotic era was approaching, a time of contention among heroes, destined to be both magnificent and filled with unavoidable partings, both above and below the mountains.

Xie Shi waved, signaling the youth to leave.

The two spirit figurines hopped back onto the plaque, huddling together and whispering.

Xie Shi closed his eyes to rest, his breathing becoming deep and even, his spirit wandering in meditative oblivion.

After leaving Peach Leaf Lane, Cao Xi strolled aimlessly through the streets and alleys, a smiling, wealthy elder. Unaware of his illustrious status, people readily chatted with him. If the Hidden Treasure Paradise of the Luminous Pearl had not already been thoroughly plundered, Cao Xi, with his “pluck every feather from the passing goose” temperament, would have turned the small town upside down to his heart’s content. He harbored a deep resentment, furious at the Great Li Dynasty’s forced acquisitions. According to secret letters from the Cao clan of the Great Li, their exhaustive search for treasures had yielded a great harvest, enough to make even a cultivator as high as Cao Xi envious.

During the Dragon-slaying battle, the sages of the Three Religions and Hundred Schools had fought fiercely, shaking the heavens and earth, with bodies falling like snow. Then, four Sages descended from the sky, establishing a boundary and leaving all the treasures within the small paradise. It opened its doors to guests once every sixty years, with each relying on their own abilities and luck to find treasures, with many lucky individuals experiencing a sudden surge in their cultivation afterward.

Cao Xi hesitated, muttering to himself, “The descendants will naturally have their own fortunes? What nonsense. If I don’t offer some guidance, I fear it’s hopeless.”

He arrived at the Supervisor’s Office, where the gatekeeper, lacking discernment and unaware of the Cao family’s affairs and the matters of the mountains, aggressively blocked Cao Xi’s entry. Cao Xi wasn’t angry, and cheerfully chatted with the gatekeeper outside the office, becoming quite friendly. However, Cao Jun, who had temporarily moved into the Cao ancestral residence, noticed the anomaly and mentioned it to Cao Mao, the supervisor. The eldest grandson of the Cao clan, the Pillar of State, was terrified and immediately ran to the gate, falling to his knees and kowtowing repeatedly upon seeing his long-awaited ancestor.

The gatekeeper was scared out of his wits.

Although Cao Mao could joke with Prefect Wu Yuan, he didn’t truly respect Wu Yuan, who came from humble beginnings and was a disciple of the Imperial Preceptor. Cao Mao was a well-known young noble in the Great Li capital, but today, in front of Cao Xi, he was utterly deferential. This was because Cao Xi was the family’s oldest ancestor, even more revered than the ancestor who had earned the title of Pillar of State. Only the eldest son of each generation of the Cao family was entitled to know this secret, to be revealed in times of crisis. Their ancestor was a land-based sword immortal of the Sahasra Continent, and half-owner of the Townsea Tower – a life-saving charm far more effective than an amnesty iron certificate.

Cao Xi walked over to Cao Mao and nudged him with his foot. “Get up. Stop embarrassing yourself here.”

Cao Mao immediately rose, not even daring to brush the dust off his official robes, his youthful face flushed with genuine excitement.
How could one so easily encounter immortal figures of the Upper Five Realms? Especially when they were ancestors whose names were clearly inscribed on one’s own family genealogy!

With such a powerful backer, would not the Cao family’s descendants, not only in this corner of the Great Li Dynasty, but also throughout the entire Treasure Bottle Continent, be able to walk with impunity?

Cao Xi inquired, “Has the investigation into Chen Ping’an’s ancestral home been clarified?”

Cao Mao respectfully replied, “Reporting to Ancestral Founder, it has been thoroughly investigated. There is nothing special. Tracing back hundreds of years, they are all ordinary folk from a small town. Not even a single verifiable Qi Refiner has emerged.”

Cao Xi hummed in acknowledgement, “Then the matter at hand is simple. However, this is still quite strange and peculiar. Either the Chen family of Dragon Tail Creek has tampered with things, or some ancestor’s fortune was simply too ‘unique,’ living off the fat of the land and pre-spending the blessings of dozens of generations of descendants. Never mind, no need to concern ourselves with such trivial matters.”

Cao Mao, bending at the waist, intended to lead the venerable ancestor towards the yamen’s main hall, but Cao Xi retorted in displeasure, “Such a paltry official position; I would be ashamed to even sit in that hall.”

Cao Mao was at a loss, uncertain how to proceed.

He truly had no experience in dealing with immortal ancestors. He suspected that even his grandfather, the current head of the Cao clan and a Pillar of State in the Great Li Dynasty, would be just as bewildered and inadequate in this situation.

Cao Xi stood beneath the archway of the yamen plaza and coldly stated, “Cao Jun, get your ass out here.”

Before long, Cao Jun, adorned with both a long and short sword, sauntered over. Upon seeing Cao Xi, he showed no proper respect, laughing, “What is it? Did you get angered at the Xie residence and plan to use me as a punching bag, traveling all this way just to drag me out and scold me?”

Cao Xi cast a sidelong glance at Cao Jun, “Worthless wretch!”

Cao Jun chuckled, “Can’t be helped, inherited from the ancestors.”

Deep down, Cao Mao felt a twinge of envy towards the young swordsman of the same clan, known only by name and lineage, who dared to speak to the old ancestor in such a carefree and insolent tone.

Cao Xi was silent for a moment, carefully examining the layout and geomantic currents of the yamen, before asking abruptly, “Has the yamen been recently renovated? Who came up with the idea?”

Cao Mao glanced around, then whispered, “It was Grandfather who took the yamen blueprints and earnestly requested a high-ranking expert from the Lu family in the capital to offer some guidance. Ancestral Founder, what’s wrong? Is it inappropriate?”

Cao Xi’s expression was clouded with uncertainty, “Inappropriate? It’s extremely appropriate. Compared to before, it’s even better at gathering wind and water. With a slight alteration, it would be a beautiful finishing touch, likely to become Cao Mao’s place of rising prominence. Hmph, don’t misunderstand. You don’t have the destiny to become a true dragon emperor. If nothing unexpected happens in your life, at most you’ll inherit the hereditary title of Pillar of State. If you’re lucky, you might become a founder of resurgence on the family genealogy.”

Cao Mao was overjoyed, unable to conceal his delight.

Cao Jun habitually narrowed his eyes and smiled.

Cao Xi, however, felt a sense of helplessness. He had painstakingly cultivated a large clan with numerous descendants, but in the end, they were mostly incompetent good-for-nothings. A Pillar of State of a mere dynasty could make them grin from ear to ear?

Cao Xi was momentarily in a foul mood, though he didn’t show it on his face.

Cao Xi inexplicably recalled the ancestral home that had been renovated by others. It was somewhat different from his memories. For instance, during rainy weather, the water droplets from the eaves and courtyard of his dilapidated house in his childhood had, year after year, long become decayed and dilapidated. Without the money to repair it, the ground would be splattered with rain on rainy days. The courtyards of wealthy households, regardless of rain or snow, had “wealth and fortune” falling into the pools below their courtyards, never allowing the ground around the courtyards to become damp. That was called cleanly accepting feng shui. According to the old folks in the small town, the ancestors accumulated virtue and rewarded a hundred grains of rice, and the descendants could use the large bowl of the pool on the ground to receive the entire hundred grains without missing a single one, rather than receiving only half a bowl of rice like Cao Xi’s house in his childhood.

Now the ancestral house, collapsed and repaired, had fortunately benefited from misfortune. If one believed in that mystical saying, it could be considered to have received all the ancestral blessings.

Cao Xi murmured, “The benevolent family will surely have blessings to spare. Should one believe in it a little?”

A fiery red fox sitting on the archway sarcastically said, “It’s one thing for others to believe this, but you, Cao Xi, also believe it? If you truly believed it, you wouldn’t have reached where you are today!”

Cao Xi didn’t raise his head, coldly laughing, “That’s because I, Cao Xi, have a tough life and great ability, so I can choose not to believe. But this Cao family of the Treasure Bottle Continent is so unambitious; if I don’t believe a little, I fear they’ll disappear someday.”

Cao Jun teased, “Really believe it? What, is the old ancestor going to do good deeds and accumulate virtue? That would truly be the sun rising from the west.”

Cao Xi turned to look at Cao Jun, “That sword embryo, don’t you even think about it. If you feel unhappy about it, I’ll personally compensate you later.”

Cao Jun’s smile became cold, “Why?”

Cao Xi bluntly stated, “I am your ancestor.”

Cao Jun suddenly burst into laughter, “It’s settled then! Good people have good rewards. The old ancestor will surely live a long and prosperous life!”

The fiery red fox stood on the archway, clapping its paws vigorously in celebration, but its words were chillingly sarcastic, “Wow, a picture of a loving father and a filial son! The old ancestor is generous, and the descendants are filial. So heartwarming! I can’t, I can’t, my tears are about to flow…”

Cao Xi snorted coldly, too lazy to pay attention to the foul-mouthed fox. He turned around, flicked his sleeve, and strode away.

As the old man walked out of the yamen, the sky was gloomy, and it was indeed about to rain.

He returned to the ancestral home in Mud Bottle Lane. A spring rain arrived unexpectedly, growing heavier and heavier.

Cao Xi was alone, sitting in the small main hall without a plaque. The little incense figurine that had barely emerged had also been eaten long ago.

It was just a desolate and dilapidated house.

Cao Xi suddenly got up, went to the kitchen cupboard, took out a large white bowl, walked to the side of the water pool corresponding to the courtyard, squatted on the edge, and stepped with both feet on the pebbles paved in the small pool, using the white bowl to collect rainwater.

After filling the bowl with a little rainwater, Cao Xi took a sip and immediately sprinkled it into the pool, complaining, “Scholars only talk nonsense. This water from my hometown, where is it as good as wine?”

Cao Xi sighed, lost in a daze.

Finally, the old man holding the water bowl looked back. It seemed as if there was an old woman working in the house, as if she had stopped her movements, holding a broom, and standing there quietly, smiling and looking at her son. Even though a mother would not enjoy any blessings, it would be fine as long as her son prospered.
The old man, who had long enjoyed the riches and glory of the mortal realm, hadn’t felt such sorrow in centuries. Tears welled in his eyes as he murmured, “Mother, oh, my foolish mother.”

On the southern slopes of Misty Cloud Mountain, construction of the Linlu Academy had begun. New buildings seemed to rise daily, a testament to the Great Li Dynasty’s regard for the institution. Emperor Song himself equated it with the building of the Northern Mountain Temple, having issued two imperial edicts, one for the prefecture and one for the county government.

The old Flood Dragon from the Yellow Court country, now going by the name Cheng Shuidong, wore a well-fitting blue robe, radiating the refined air of a Confucian scholar.

Only a handful of people, including the Great Li Emperor and the Imperial Advisor Cui Chan, knew the old Flood Dragon’s true identity. Thus, despite Cheng Shuidong’s widely circulated writings and renowned reputation in the northern regions of the Treasure Bottle Continent, the appointment of a minor secretary from the Yellow Court Country to the position of Deputy Head of the Linlu Academy stirred considerable controversy within the Great Li court. Officials felt Cheng Shuidong lacked prestigious titles within the Confucian academic lineage, making him unable to command respect. Military officials were even more dissatisfied, questioning how an old codger from the Yellow Court Country, lucky to be alive, could possibly educate Great Li’s future scholars.

The old Flood Dragon stood shoulder to shoulder with Wei Bo, both gazing at the bustling, dust-filled academy site. This was their first private meeting.

The old Flood Dragon sighed, “Wei Bo, you always manage to rise from the ashes, defying expectations.”

First, he was the Northern Mountain Deity of the Divine Water Kingdom. Then, the Great Li Dynasty shattered his divine statue, sinking it to the bottom of the water. Later, with the help of others, he barely pieced together a fragmented statue, struggling to maintain a dwindling incense offering. Unexpectedly, disaster struck again when two immortal chess players stripped him of his divine body, reducing him to a mere village god, even inferior to ordinary river sprites. Yet, in the end, he ascended to become the Northern Mountain Deity of Misty Cloud Mountain.

It was safe to assume that the original mountain deities of the Great Li Dynasty wanted to kill Wei Bo.

The old Flood Dragon had traveled extensively in his younger days and was an old acquaintance of Wei Bo.

A light rain began to fall, pressing the dust back into the earth.

Naturally, neither the old Flood Dragon nor Wei Bo needed to worry about getting wet.

Wei Bo extended a hand and gently swayed it, causing the curtain of rain before him to ripple. He smiled and said, “Isn’t that why everyone envies the immortals? Besides, ‘god’ comes before ‘immortal,’ after all.”

The old Flood Dragon quietly asked, “Is the Great Li Emperor truly going south to Dragon Spring County?”

Wei Bo didn’t conceal anything, playfully replying, “Indeed, he’ll be taking a trip soon. It’ll be interesting to see you, old Flood Dragon, kowtow to the True Dragon Son of Heaven. Have you prepared your greeting gift?”

The old Flood Dragon chuckled, “It’s ready, nothing of significance.”

Wei Bo pointed towards the small town and asked, “Will a fight break out? If it does, will you intervene?”

The old Flood Dragon hesitated for a moment, unwilling to treat the future Mountain Deity as a fool. “Having boarded the pirate ship, what else can I do?”

Wei Bo felt a headache coming on. “Just try not to damage my Misty Cloud Mountain.”

The old Flood Dragon burst into laughter. “Have you already made this place your home?”

Wei Bo chuckled. “I’m one who enjoys new things without discarding the old.”

The old Flood Dragon pointed to the white-robed deity beside him. “Your attachment to the old is rare indeed.”

Wei Bo laughed heartily. “That just means you haven’t seen enough.”

Understanding his meaning, the old Flood Dragon immediately restrained his laughter and warned, “Some things, others may do, but we cannot speak of.”

Wei Bo nodded, remembering something. “I need to go to Fallen Phoenix Mountain. I can’t stay here and enjoy the rain with you.”

On the Dragon Beard River, raindrops hammered the surface with force.

Beneath a stone arch bridge, a woman with flowing, seaweed-like hair hovered just above the riverbed, sobbing softly. She thought of her grandson, then of her own miserable state with half of her divine body destroyed, and grew even more sorrowful. Finding it so difficult even in her own territory, how much harder must it be for her grandson, far away at True Martial Mountain, cultivating among so many deities and demons?

She had previously patrolled the Dragon Beard River happily every day, thinking of all the valuable and not-so-valuable treasures she had managed to accumulate through exploiting her borrowed power and shameless intimidation. She had always intended to pass them all on to her grandson one day, so he wouldn’t have to worry about money on his cultivation journey. But now, enduring immense pain as she destroyed her own divine body at the river’s source, the river deity woman, who had no temple or incense offering, truly understood the unpredictability of Heaven’s will and the arduous nature of cultivation. She had been hiding under this stone arch bridge, weeping, every day.

Suddenly, the woman stopped sobbing, suppressing her alarm, and swiftly swam towards the riverbank, obediently yielding the waterway to a superior officer.

The woman recognized the Iron Talisman River Deity, named Yang Hua, who was likely the youngest high-ranking river deity in the Eastern Treasure Bottle Continent. Her golden hair reached a full ten feet in length, and she wore a mask covering her face, cradling a long sword. She had a terrible temper, and countless spirits and monsters had died by her hand.

The Dragon Beard River was the upstream section of the Iron Talisman River, naturally belonging to the Iron Talisman River’s domain. Therefore, Yang Hua’s patrol was entirely within her rights, but Yang Hua had never ascended the waterfall into the river’s territory since becoming a river deity. Today was the first time. The river deity woman, whose mortal name was Ma Lanhua, even as a deity retained her timid, commoner demeanor. She bowed her head and mumbled a polite greeting. When she looked up again, Yang Hua had already sped away over ten miles upstream.

The woman felt indignant, thinking the young hussy had no manners. Even if she was her superior, she didn’t even offer a greeting.

And so, the woman began to lament her fate again, feeling that she was being bullied.

Finally, the woman feared that her grandson was also being treated unfairly. She clutched her chest with one hand, wiped away her tears with the other, then, like a carp swishing its tail, quickly swam towards her lair to check on her treasures, thinking of them as her grandson’s generous dowry, which would bring her some joy and make her feel that her suffering, even after death, was somewhat worthwhile.

Outside the postal station, a single-wheeled cart loaded with a fortune-telling stall was parked. The young Daoist priest hadn’t even set up his stall before he started reading palms and divining fortunes for a superstitious postman. Other postal clerks saw it as nonsense, one simpleton being easily duped by another. In the end, the young Daoist priest didn’t accept any money; in truth, the postman hadn’t intended to pay. Fortunately, the Daoist was sensible and only asked for a bowl of hot water. He stood by the cart, gulping it down, clearly enjoying it.
The young Daoist wiped his mouth, waving goodbye to the post station with a beaming smile as he continued pushing his cart forward.

At the post station, someone vigorously rubbed their eyes. “Huh? Why is there a Daoist nun suddenly following that fortune-telling swindler?”

The beautiful Daoist nun gently asked, “Little Martial Uncle, you say your fortune-telling and chess skills aren’t the best. Then who is?”

The Daoist named Lu Chen chuckled, “Your real Little Martial Uncle, this poor Daoist’s martial brother. One day, his chess will surpass mine, and he’ll defeat that fiend from White Emperor City. And his fortune-telling is better than mine; he can make… alas, never mind, it’s upsetting. In short, this martial brother, ‘one plus one equals one, and adding another still equals one,’ has always been more formidable than I.”

The Daoist nun was He Xiaoliang, whom Lu Chen had coaxed away from the Divine Edict Sect, the heartless woman who made Wei Jin of the Wind and Snow Temple drink pot after pot of gut-wrenching wine.

In truth, she had once come here as a jade maiden, representing the treasure bottle continent’s orthodox Daoist sect alongside a golden boy, to retrieve the ancestral master’s talismanic treasure left in the Li Zhu Grotto-Heaven. When they left, they failed to successfully take Ma Kuxuan, but she gained a beautiful snakeskin stone instead. Helplessly, her blessed fortune was so profound, the entire continent watched with amazement, as if wherever she went, good things would eagerly gather around her, impossible to stop.

The Daoist nun hesitated for a moment.

She wanted to ask a question that even the Little Martial Uncle from the Divine Edict Sect couldn’t comprehend.

Why was this person beside her the true death knot in Qi Jingchun’s inevitably fatal situation?

By what means?!

One had to know that Qi Jingchun’s displayed cultivation at the time was so immense, if he hadn’t been unwilling to shatter Eastern Treasure Bottle Continent and sink it into the sea, unwilling to implicate the common people of the small town, and had instead chosen to unleash his full power instead of just using two natal characters to face his enemies, could this strange and mysterious young Daoist truly have withstood him? Could he even have ensured Qi Jingchun’s demise?!

To defeat a High Purity cultivator and to kill a High Purity cultivator were worlds apart. And the terrifying destructive force unleashed when a High Purity cultivator knew death was inevitable was unimaginable.

Unless there were Immortals one or two realms higher, desperately controlling the battlefield, or someone could bring out a small grotto-heaven as a prison.

That was why Xie Shi dared to come to the small town alone.

I, Xie Shi, can die in Dragon Spring County, but Great Li must first consider the consequences.

The same was true for Li Er in the Sui Dynasty Imperial Palace.

Lu Chen had already divined her question, and smiled, “The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao. What does that mean? It means words and language can be used to speak, but their weight is far from enough to explain the Great Dao. As for what this poor Daoist means, it’s that I won’t answer the question you want to ask.”

He Xiaoliang gave a wry smile.

This inexplicably appearing “Little Martial Uncle” from the Divine Edict Sect had spoken countless strange words along the way. She was often baffled, but later simply stopped pondering them. If he wanted to speak, he would ramble on endlessly. Blocking your ears or even closing the gates of your heart wouldn’t help; his voice would still resonate in your mind. But when he didn’t want to speak, he could remain silent for ten days or half a month.

Lu Chen looked towards the small town and began to speak strangely again, “Everyone envies the goodness of immortals, and the goodness of immortals is, of course, good. But why doesn’t Wei Bo envy them? Because you have never been a true immortal.”

“Search your heart. You feel shame, and the word shame means there is a ghost in your heart. Your path to becoming a Heavenly Sovereign will be a little difficult.”

“Tsk tsk, your grandson is being bullied? It would be benevolent of him if he didn’t bully others. He’s very promising, but that personality is really unlikeable. But there’s no helping it; good fortune is good fortune.”

“It’s strange. People from the same small town, returning to their hometown at the same time. Xie Shi has been a good immortal all his life, yet he’s about to do something unconscionable. Cao Xi has been a bastard his whole life, yet he’s doing something decent.”

At this point, the young Daoist suddenly turned to look at He Xiaoliang and asked with a smile, “Can you hear the heartfelt thoughts of a mortal scholar?”

He Xiaoliang said helplessly, “Only a tenth realm Qi Refiner can vaguely hear them. How could I possibly do that now?”

The young Daoist said “Oh,” and nodded, “Then you really need to cultivate diligently.”

He Xiaoliang could only smile wryly.

The young Daoist thought this was something he could discuss, and opened the floodgates of his words, regardless of whether He Xiaoliang was interested. “This kind of thing is mysterious, but also not mysterious at all. One way is with utmost sincerity. As the saying goes, ‘Sincerity can move even metal and stone.’ That’s why sages say, ‘Only the most refined and sincere can move people.’ At certain moments, even ordinary mortals can elicit a response from the gods.”

“Of course, the other way is with extremely high cultivation or extraordinary talent. Their inner voices are naturally louder. For example, if I want to talk to you, you will hear me whether you want to or not.”

“But I think it has nothing to do with my cultivation. It’s still because of utmost sincerity. What do you think?”

He Xiaoliang would never flatter him. “I think it’s because Little Martial Uncle’s Dao is profound.”

Lu Chen was somewhat disappointed and didn’t want to speak anymore.

It was similar to how Li Xisheng, on his way to the mountains, could directly call out the name of Bai Ze and immediately be heard by the Bai Lord who was far away on the western seashore of the Treasure Bottle Continent. But if his student, Cui Ci, opened his mouth and cursed a hundred times, the Bai Lord wouldn’t hear him, or wouldn’t care even if he did. Of course, if he took it seriously, Cui Ci would inevitably die “for no reason” on the spot, even across hundreds of thousands of miles.

These darlings of heaven were like bright stars shining on the land, naturally attracting more attention. Don’t look at the tenth realm Qi Refiners who are habitually crowned with the title of “sage” by the secular world, hiding like thousand-year-old turtles, in the eyes of some big shots whose cultivation penetrates the heavens and earth, they are actually more transparent than ordinary people.

Of course, gods who observe mountains and rivers in their palms, with their “hands in their sleeves,” is not so simple. A country or continent has its own invisible barriers, hindering gazes from elsewhere. The concept of grotto-heavens and blessed lands has its roots in this. If one wants to pry into secrets across a whole world, the required cultivation would truly need to reach the heavens.

To the south of the small town, the sound of metal clashing could be heard from time to time, echoing in the sky. Ordinary people would not notice this awe-inspiring sound at all, but for Qi Refiners, the commotion was considerable. In fact, the sound of Ruan Qiong forging iron in the sword furnace was comparable to spring thunder in the ears of the demons.
Those demons who clung to fortune and lingered in the small town were revealed in their true forms, their Qi Seas violently shaken, experiencing a torment worse than death, driven to madness. Then, the well-prepared Qi Refinement cultivators and pure martial artists of the Great Li joined forces to subdue them before tossing them into the depths of the mountains, a favor akin to a life-saving grace.

At the same time, Ruan Qiong’s forging aura elicited sighs of admiration from onlookers, “A Sage truly is a Sage.”

However, He Xiaoliang was somewhat surprised, “The forging is nearing its end, yet why is the commotion still so great, causing even the mountain roots and waterways within the land to tremble? Could it be that the quality of this sword is so high that it will become renowned throughout the world?”

Lu Chen smiled without speaking.

Even Sages must engage in trade, after all.

However, since Qi Jingchun had reached an agreement with his master, he would definitely not interfere in this matter any further.

This was both respecting his master and expressing his reverence for that scholar.

Recalling the past.

The fortune-teller Lu Chen stood with his back to the school, divining fates for others.

Behind him, a Confucian Sage imparted knowledge and virtue to young children.

As for why Qi Jingchun had to die.

It involved a grand principle of the Great Dao.

Within the Li Zhu Grotto-Heaven, Qi Jingchun had perused the scriptures of the Three Teachings.

What “doctrine to establish and become an Ancestor” did Qi Jingchun aspire to?

Regardless of what it was, he had arrived at the same conclusion as someone else, so Lu Chen, as that person’s junior brother, had to personally descend here.

Lu Chen gazed towards the sky.

Once, a scholar had sat there, single-handedly confronting the immortals of the Three Teachings.

Admiration was admiration, respect was respect.

But he still had to do things that went against his conscience.

Later, following the natural course, he roughly deduced Qi Jingchun’s true contingency plan and left four characters for the youth, saying it was to practice calligraphy. This was true, but the greatest significance was like flying a kite, hoping that through the youth’s copying of those four characters, he would one day calculate the most crucial step, purely out of the curiosity of a master chess player.

However, strangely, the youth only gave Lu Chen one chance.

And Lu Chen couldn’t calculate much either.

Lu Chen didn’t mind this, after all, the overall situation was set, and he wouldn’t take advantage of Qi Jingchun’s death to kick him when he was down.

The young Daoist once smiled and said to the youth, “Seemingly well-intentioned acts of kindness may not be good people or good deeds.”

This had deep meaning, referring both to those few medicinal prescriptions and four characters, and even more so to that string of candied hawthorns, planned for a long time.

Lu Chen released the handle of the wheelbarrow, stretched his back, and laughed, “If there are no idle matters weighing on one’s mind, what comes after that?”

The young Daoist nun smiled gently, “Then it is a good time to be in the world.”

First, set a small goal, like 1 second: