According to the divine scriptures of the “Records of Mountains and Seas,” the continent of Tongye is rife with mountain spirits, demons, and strange creatures. This is indeed the case.

Even though Chen Ping’an mostly avoids places rich in spiritual energy or perilous, defiled territories, he occasionally falls prey to the supernatural. For instance, one night, he spotted a brightly lit small town. Lacking a map, and needing to replenish his supplies, Chen Ping’an followed the lights all the way to it. Topographical maps, you see, were always forbidden objects in dynastic nations, even more strictly controlled than weapons.

The small town had no curfew, but the gate guards checked travel documents. Once Chen Ping’an successfully entered the town, he found an inn that hadn’t yet closed for the night. However, the innkeeper shook his head and waved his hands, saying that the silver Chen Ping’an offered was not accepted there. Each country has its own standard coinage, which is normal. But the rejection of even genuine gold and silver was rather strange. Fortunately, the innkeeper pointed him to a place where he could exchange his gold and silver for their local currency and then return to the inn.

So, Chen Ping’an found a shop with an exceptionally high counter, almost one and a half times a person’s height. Following local custom, Chen Ping’an stood on a small stool and asked to exchange money, offering a few silver ingots. He received a pile of copper coins, heavy and of high quality, and a stack of paper currency. Chen Ping’an noticed that the paper notes had official imperial seals and bank stamps, so he didn’t think much of it. Back at the inn, he paid the money and showed his travel document. The innkeeper meticulously recorded it in his ledger for the local magistrate’s clerk to inspect.

The next day, as Chen Ping’an prepared to leave, the innkeeper was still at his abacus. He smiled and reminded Chen Ping’an of a local custom: when chatting with people, one must never utter the word “paper.” For example, “paper talk” or “a worthless piece of paper” were strictly forbidden, lest he be beaten and thrown out of the town.

Chen Ping’an kept this in mind and thanked him before buying firewood, rice, oil, salt, and two sets of clothes. When he returned to the inn for a meal, he found the food bland and tasteless. Later, as he left the town and walked several dozen li, he could still faintly see the town’s outline. He was caught in a sudden downpour and took shelter in a dilapidated pavilion on a mountain. As he idly practiced his stances and fist techniques, he witnessed an astonishing sight: the town at the foot of the mountain seemed to melt like a puddle of mud in the rain.

Chen Ping’an hurriedly took out the items he had purchased in the small town, as well as the copper coins and paper currency, and his scalp tingled with horror.

They were all crafted from blank paper, just like the paper money burned by the living in the mortal realm for the dead in the underworld!

Amused by Chen Ping’an’s predicament, someone chuckled from within the pavilion wall. The voice echoed through the pavilion, passing through the wall.

Chen Ping’an had only been surprised by the inexplicable nature of the small town; he wasn’t truly afraid of these spirits and monsters. So, when someone tried to play tricks on him in the mountain pavilion, Chen Ping’an quickly recovered. He simply sat on a long bench made of ancient mountain wood against the wall, silently drinking wine and gazing at the stark white wall opposite him.

Unless he was extremely unlucky and had encountered a great mountain demon or a monstrous fiend adept at disguise, it was most likely just a creature with shallow cultivation. It wouldn’t be difficult for it to frighten ordinary mortals, and it wouldn’t be difficult for Chen Ping’an to crush it with a single slap.

The creature, unaware that it had run into a brick wall, continued its charade, its voice pretending to be even more sinister, “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

Chen Ping’an secured his sword gourd at his waist, stood up, and slowly walked towards the wall. With a “slap,” he directly affixed a “Demon-Suppressing Talisman” to it. A pleading voice, laced with sobs and seemingly childlike, immediately rang out from within. Chen Ping’an didn’t remove the yellow talisman but asked with a smile, “Do you think I’m afraid or not?”

The fellow cried out, “Afraid, afraid! I’m so afraid I’m about to come back to life!”

“Come out now. If you continue to hide, I will truly be impolite. Tell me, what exactly happened with that small town?”

Chen Ping’an removed the demon-suppressing talisman, tucked it into his sleeve, and sat back down in his original spot.

A young boy, still shaken, emerged from the wall. Both the front and back of his robes were embroidered with an official’s insignia, but unlike the colorful attire of the secular court, his were only black and white. He stood timidly by the wall, looking at the immortal lord sitting opposite him. He bowed deeply and even performed a strange “chengnuo” greeting, announcing his identity: he was a former Land God, enfeoffed by the previous dynasty. After the emperor and the dynastic surname changed, he was automatically classified as a former official. His already meager cultivation became even weaker.

In life, he had been the beloved youngest son of a high-ranking official. Shortly after his death, before the seventh day mourning period had passed, a wandering immortal passed by and entered the mourning hall. With the help of his father’s connections, he became a Land God of insignificant rank, but his incense offerings were quite abundant, all so that he could protect the geomancy of his family’s ancestral tombs. Later, the mountains and rivers changed color, and everything became a passing dream.

In retrospect, the matter was not significant but rather amusing. Chen Ping’an then asked this Land God, now without imperial legitimacy, about the origins of the paper doll town. It turned out that ten thousand town residents had died overnight in a catastrophic event resembling a natural disaster. To prevent public panic, the imperial court ordered the surrounding prefectures to seal off the news and invited eminent monks from the Buddhist sect to perform a ritual, thus preventing the place from becoming a dangerous, yin-afflicted land.

Chen Ping’an inquired about what would happen to the town after the rain. The boy smiled and said it would return to normal as long as the weather cleared up for a few days.

Chen Ping’an then crouched on the ground, facing the town, and burned the paper money and paper clothes inside the pavilion.

The boy squatted beside him, sighing, “This immortal lord is unexpectedly such a benevolent person.”

Chen Ping’an simply smiled.

He then asked the boy about the terrain within a thousand li, whether there were any immortal sects or ferry crossings. The boy answered everything in detail, without holding back.

He said that about eight hundred li to the north, there were indeed demons wreaking havoc, claiming a mountain as their own. They didn’t often kidnap woodcutters or mountain people, and the area was relatively stable, with few reports of the common folk suffering. At their peak, many mountain cultivators had to detour around them. However, they had suffered a major setback and had become quiet. It was said that there were only two or three cats and dogs left, not a force to be reckoned with. The truth was hard to say; the rumors outside were varied. Some said that a Celestial Master from the Fuji Sect found them an eyesore. Others said that a Buddhist pilgrim had settled there, and a demon had offended the Buddhist monk, angering the Buddhist master with his Vajra wrath, causing this calamity.

Chen Ping’an was slightly surprised. The mountain road where the Bride Ghost appeared within the Dali territory was something that Chen Ping’an still found difficult to let go of.
Within the pavilion, some withered branches lay scattered. With the help of the boy, they were gathered together, and a fire starter ignited them. One man and one strange being squatted beside the crackling bonfire.

Though the boy appeared young, his face still cherubic, he had in truth lived for five centuries. He explained the reason to Chen Ping An, “The demons of that mountain, they follow a certain principle, ‘Don’t foul your own nest.’ While their Mountain King is relatively mild-tempered, he has many violent underlings. They’re not exactly benevolent, but as they carve out their own territory, they fear a sullied reputation. If word spreads and scares everyone, some bored immortal cultivator might come along, eager to earn renown for slaying demons. How would they cope then?”

Chen Ping An nodded in understanding.

The boy held his hands closer to the fire, chuckling. “To kill or not to kill? Kill the small ones, and the big ones come. Kill the big ones, and the old ones arrive. Even if you have the power to kill two at a time, three at a time, wiping them all out, it’ll still cause a huge uproar. The local officials would report it to the imperial court. The Emperor, feeling dishonored, would surely beseech an immortal master to intervene. That’s the most troublesome thing.”

The boy sighed, “Most vexing.”

Chen Ping An smiled. “If not for that, it would be utter chaos. How would the people at the foot of the mountain live? Just take that small town, if ten thousand people died, what would their relatives and friends in other places think? If everyone vanished overnight, the living would be terrified as well.”

The boy was taken aback, seemingly never having considered this.

Afterward, the boy shared some local anecdotes, mostly hearsay gathered over centuries of passing time – one must find amusement to while away the long years.

When the heavy rain ceased, Chen Ping An bid farewell to the small Earth God and continued on his journey.

The boy stood outside the pavilion, muttering to himself.

Along the way, Chen Ping An passed an ancient burial mound where a group of impoverished scholars, on their way to take the imperial exams, stood before a large grave, displaying expressions of mingled inferiority and admiration.

Then, from within the burial ground, two snow-white foxes emerged, bowing like humans.

Several younger foxes, perched atop the graves, giggled and whispered, their eyes filled with a clever energy, brimming with anticipation and bashfulness, not at all like malevolent demons. They resembled nothing so much as gluttonous children.

The scholars returned the bows.

Chen Ping An found it amusing, knowing that it was surely the work of fox spirits, beguiling the hearts of men. However, he felt little concern. Fox spirits, across all continents, rarely engaged in acts of cruelty. Since ancient times, they have been naturally drawn to humans, more often seeking to overcome the trials of love, to improve their realms and cultivation.

Therefore, Chen Ping An did not reveal the truth at that moment, letting those scholars discover that the grand mansion before them was merely a tomb.

Chen Ping An quietly stood guard near the grave.

Sure enough, the next day, the scholars left the luxurious estate unharmed, each filled with elation, feeling they had experienced a romance worth living for.

Chen Ping An smiled and departed.

Three hundred *li* later, Chen Ping An arrived at a small kingdom called Northern Jin. As he passed through a city, he stumbled upon a marketplace. Chen Ping An even bought two strings of candied haws. He had heard that the Ruqu Temple in Northern Jin was quite famous, with a large stone said to be one of the enlightenment spots of a bodhisattva, known as the Stone Lotus Platform. The giant stone was fifteen *zhang* square, capable of accommodating hundreds of people. A single person could make it shake, yet no one could explain the principle. The Emperor of Northern Jin, during a western tour, personally tested it and was greatly pleased, boosting the temple’s fame.

However, when Chen Ping An inquired, everyone claimed ignorance of any Ruqu Temple. Chen Ping An then remembered that the boy had mentioned this event occurred two centuries ago. Two centuries in the mortal realm was long enough to change many customs.

Chen Ping An hesitated, but persisted until he finally learned the location of the Ruqu Temple ruins. He made his way there, finding it overgrown with weeds, devoid of both human and demonic presence, filled with a heavy, stagnant atmosphere. In the setting sun, Chen Ping An found a giant stone, showing no signs of peculiarity.

Chen Ping An finished the last candied haw, discarded the skewer, and turned to leave.

As Chen Ping An walked out of the Ruqu Temple’s dilapidated gate, a small figure peeked out from the top of the giant stone, emerging from within.

It sat on the stone, silently.

The truth behind the Stone Lotus Platform’s shaking was that it had nurtured a small earth-stone sprite, a “Little Lotus Person.” It enjoyed hiding and giggling. Each time someone tried to shake the giant stone, it would immediately become excited, swaying left and right, causing the stone to move with it, thus creating the misunderstanding.

But one day, it grew bored, and the Stone Lotus Platform’s shaking became “intermittent,” eventually “immovable as a mountain.” It had left the Stone Lotus Platform, wanting to find companions in the distance. Year after year of solitude, it felt lonely.

Eventually, it found two partners, a snake spirit and a roe deer spirit. The Little Lotus Person, with its innocent heart, had a small arm, made of “cloud root, earth essence” and a petal of the auspicious lotus leaf taken by them, respectively. But it persisted in seeking companions. Finally, it found a flower spirit who didn’t ask for anything. It brought her back to the Stone Lotus Platform, where they played together and pranked the visitors. But one day, when it woke up from a nap, it found that the Stone Lotus Platform’s spiritual energy was gone, not a trace remained, and the flower spirit was gone too.

The Stone Lotus Platform, having lost its spiritual essence, was once again ignored, eventually completely forgotten, leaving only a one-armed little spirit often sitting on the edge of the stone, humming folk songs, lightly swaying its feet.

It sometimes felt sad because it didn’t know if its three companions were doing well.

If they weren’t, why didn’t they come to see it? It would comfort them.

If they were doing well, why didn’t they come to see it? It would be happy for them.

It couldn’t understand.

The little fellow suddenly turned its head and saw that the foreigner in a snow-white robe was sitting on the other side of the stone, drinking wine in the sunset.

Noticing its gaze, he smiled at it.

Startled, the little fellow quickly got up, jumped, and disappeared into the giant stone.

Chen Ping An laughed heartily, jumped down from the stone, and truly left the Ruqu Temple, no longer teasing the little earth spirit.

The little fellow hid in the stone for a long time before daring to cautiously emerge, looking around. Confirming that the man was gone, it came to the place where he had been sitting. Its eyes widened, discovering a spiritual coin.

Most spirits in the world loved immortal money from the mountains, using it as sustenance.
Placing a snowflake coin was merely a casual gesture for Chen Ping’an.

However, after Chen Ping’an left the city, walked out of the official road, and just entered the mountains, he found a small creature standing in front of him on the path, its eyes brimming with tears, holding the snowflake coin in both hands, looking at Chen Ping’an with a mix of apprehension and joy.

Chen Ping’an walked over slowly. The little fellow was naturally timid and vanished into thin air on the road in an instant. After several repetitions, the little creature followed Chen Ping’an for nearly a hundred miles of mountain road.

Chen Ping’an didn’t actively approach it, allowing it to follow him at a distance.

And so, the large and the small journeyed together.

They arrived at the deep mountain forest the child had spoken of. As expected, the mountain terrain was treacherous. As Chen Ping’an was about to leave the mountain’s boundary, he encountered a small demon seemingly gone mad, with tattered clothes and staggering gait, repeating a heartbroken phrase: “With such a heart, how can one become a Buddha? How can one become a Buddha…”

The little creature was so frightened that it forgot all caution and dashed to hide beside Chen Ping’an’s feet.

After that, the little fellow completely lost its wariness, either hopping around Chen Ping’an or squatting on Chen Ping’an’s shoulder.

Later, Chen Ping’an, with this new, speechless companion, passed through a war-torn nation, where lives were devastated, forcing a group of heroes to become bandits, occupying mountains and declaring themselves kings, raising a great banner.

Chen Ping’an heard tales all along the way of the heroic deeds of these thirty-six brave men, how heroic and extraordinary they were, their martial arts skills capable of uprooting mountains. Chen Ping’an naturally didn’t believe it all, but he thought if he had the chance, he would go to that mountain to take a look, meet the heroes, even if they might not be willing to share a drink with him, it would be good to bask in their heroic aura from afar.

As a result, Chen Ping’an went there with admiration, only to encounter a black-hearted inn selling human meat buns. Chen Ping’an saw several traveling merchants faint and pretended to be unconscious himself, only to be tied up and thrown onto a long pork chopping board behind the shop, where a shop assistant came towards them yawning, carrying a boning knife.

In a nearby prefecture city, an executioner was about to execute a great bandit, but dozens of people stormed the execution ground, especially a burly man wielding two axes, hacking and slashing his way through, killing with great relish, laughing wildly, splitting commoners and soldiers alike in half with a single swing.

A dark-skinned man of short stature reprimanded him, and the burly man reluctantly stopped, looking ashamed, with none of his previous ferocious aura.

The dark man glanced at the strong man, waved him away, then looked around, his face weary, but with more gratification and joy.

His words to the axe-wielding brute were sharp and severe, but now, looking at the back of this trusted general, a smile played at the corner of his eye.

This group of people successfully rescued their comrade from the execution ground, had horses prepared nearby, and galloped away, quickly leaving the chaotic prefecture city.

The government soldiers didn’t dare to pursue them out of the city.

When everyone dismounted, full of vigor and elation, they walked into their shop amidst loud laughter, only to find that the familiar couple was gone, replaced by a white-robed youth with a longsword resting on the table in front of him.

The sword aura was chilling.

In less than the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, Chen Ping’an left the shop.

Inside the shop behind him, some were dead, some were alive, all were heroes in the eyes of the world, and indeed, almost everyone died without hesitation, remaining heroic even in the face of death.

On the other hand, those who survived were mostly silent from beginning to end, or stopped fighting after receiving a minor injury. They didn’t utter any harsh words, and there wasn’t much meaning of revenge in their eyes. Instead, there was a kind of bewilderment, as if saying, life is already like this, so it can only be like this.

Chen Ping’an didn’t care about these things.

Leaving the shop, he noticed a cluster of fine horses by the roadside. After thinking for a moment, Chen Ping’an grabbed a tall, sturdy horse from the side of the road and mounted it. It was a natural fit, extremely skilled.

First, he ambled along, then he rode off into the world.