In the mortal realm, reclusive hermits and wandering swordsmen often possess eccentric natures, defying conventional understanding.

Chen Ping’an harbored no curiosity towards the enigmatic figure in azure robes, who was evidently a person of considerable cultivation.

As the knife sharpener, Liu Zong, had previously remarked, the path beneath their feet was wide, not a narrow lane or a single-plank bridge. Each should walk their own way, with no fault to be found in that.

Outside the inn, the disheveled and downtrodden man in azure had not ventured far. In truth, he was squatting just outside the doorway, his scrawny dog lying beside him. The man glanced at the dog, feeling that he himself lived a life even less worthy. A sudden urge to compose a poem arose, but after ransacking his memory for ages, he failed to produce a laudable work that would not be mocked as “doggerel” by the little cripple. The man consoled himself, thinking, “It matters not, true literature is born of heaven, a stroke of genius achieved by chance; there is no need to force it.”

Inside the inn, on the second floor.

Chen Ping’an hesitated, wondering whether to summon Zhu Lian once more.

His reason was that he wished to remain in this Great Spring Dynasty for a while longer. With only Wei Xian by his side, he could at most protect Pei Qian, and it would be difficult to lend a hand elsewhere. If he were to find himself in a perilous situation like the Lotus Flower Blessed Land, surrounded by enemies on all sides, Chen Ping’an worried that he might err in the chaos.

After successfully summoning Wei Xian from a painting, Chen Ping’an had not touched the second painting. It wasn’t that he begrudged the Grain Rain coins. Eleven Grain Rain coins in exchange for the founding emperor of the Southern Garden Kingdom, a historical figure who had defeated ten thousand in battle, and a former number one martial artist under heavens. Chen Ping’an had considered himself extremely restrained for not secretly rejoicing.

The reason he had set the bottom line at ten Grain Rain coins back then was not that Chen Ping’an felt Wei Xian and his ilk were only worth that price, but rather that he feared the seemingly unhappy old Daoist priest, from their last meeting, had given him the painting, yet he would be unable to afford to sustain it. The old priest would neither break the rules nor refrain from vexing people, and Chen Ping’an couldn’t keep gambling.

Grain Rain coins, after all, were the rarest of the three types of immortal coins. One coin was equivalent to a million taels of silver, a small silver mountain. After annexing the Lu Clan Dynasty, the Great Li Dynasty, claiming to have the strongest national power in the northern part of the Treasure Bottle Continent, had an annual tax revenue of how much? Sixty million taels of silver. Of course, this was just the silver that the Great Li Song Clan put on the table.

His inaction these past few days stemmed from the unusual meaning he had gleaned from the words of the little Daoist boy carrying the golden sword-nurturing gourd. That fellow clearly intended to trick him, and it was specifically regarding this painting of the martial madman, Zhu Lian. The old priest had probably been restrained by his pride, only digging a small pit for Chen Ping’an, while the little Daoist boy had vigorously excavated a large one.

Chen Ping’an piled the remaining Grain Rain coins beside his hand, picked up one, and gently tossed it into the painting.

Clouds and mist rose, an endlessly fascinating sight.

In the hall on the first floor, the old man by the curtain tapped his tobacco pipe, stood up, and came to the counter. He glanced at the door, remarking, “That down-on-his-luck scholar is not simple.”

The woman listlessly fiddled with the abacus, “Third Grandfather, how many times have you nagged about this? I know what I’m doing and won’t actually offend him.”

The old man rested his elbow on the counter, puffing out smoke, and said in a deep voice, “If you really like him, just remarry. If your father doesn’t agree, I’ll back you up.”

The woman stamped her foot, exasperated and indignant, “Third Grandfather, what nonsense are you spouting? How could I possibly like him?!”

The old man said calmly, “Well, it’s not bad, although I don’t know his background or origins, how many young people are there on the border of the Great Spring that I can’t see through? Shave off his beard, and his appearance might be passable.”

The woman completely ignored the latter sentence, raised her chin, and pointed towards Chen Ping’an’s room upstairs, “How many are there? Third Grandfather, have you discerned the level of that young foreign guest in white robes with a red gourd, along with his personal guard? No, right? There are three of them in and around the shop all of a sudden!”

The old man, with a stern face, left a sentence and was about to return to the kitchen to prepare some food for himself, rewarding his stomach, “Treating kindness as a donkey’s liver and lungs, no wonder you’ve been a widow for so many years.”

The woman was already accustomed to the old man’s temper and softly called out to the old man, “No matter what, the three people upstairs are benefactors, don’t take matters into your own hands and drug them. The last two wandering swordsmen were stripped naked by you and thrown to the gate of Fox Town overnight. Two perfectly fine men, you turned them into something resembling unmarried virgins, almost causing them to hang themselves.”

The old man twitched his lips and said, “They weren’t heinous individuals, why would I drug them? I’m more afraid of you drugging that young man, seducing him, and doing whatever you please.”

The woman feigned a slap, “Filthy words from a dog’s mouth.”

The old man was one to argue seriously, “Go ask Wangcai outside the door, can it spit out ivory?”

The woman retorted, “I’m not a dog, I can’t chat with Wangcai, unlike you.”

The old man pointed at the woman with his tobacco pipe, “Whoever takes a fancy to you in the future, the coffin lid of his ancestors will not be able to hold it down.”

The woman didn’t care about these words. Having mixed in the market and run an inn for so many years, serving guests from all directions, she had seen it all, words that were lewd, sharp, and jealous. She lowered her voice, “That great demon, could it have been killed by this person?”

The old man shook his head, “If it was truly the number one general under the command of the Water God of Pine Needle Lake, hehe, only earth immortals and the like would have such heaven-reaching abilities. Although this carefree scholar is definitely not simple, he’s not that strong yet. He’s not one of those old scholars doing great learning at the academy. Those Confucian sages, having done such a righteous deed, would not hide their heads and tails, and there would be no need to deliberately conceal it, would there?”

The woman fell into deep thought.

The old man finally advised, “Alright, good words are not said twice, let me nag you one last time. I think that down-on-his-luck scholar, apart from being a bit poor, a bit ugly, having a foul mouth, and not being serious, is actually quite alright. At least he’s a young and strong man…”

The woman, with a dark face, spat out a word from between her teeth, “Scram!”

The hunchbacked old man’s expression remained unchanged, and he turned to leave.

His weathered face was like a gnarled old tree bark. If a mosquito were to bite him, it was estimated that the old man could pinch it to death with a slight frown.

His palms were covered with calluses, and his hands were behind his back, his left hand resting on his right wrist, his right hand holding his old tobacco pipe.

The old man seemed to be talking to himself, “Where does this strange cat spring howling come from in the middle of the night, in the middle of winter? How strange, Little Cripple even asked me about it today.”

The woman’s face turned slightly red, and she gritted her teeth, cursing, “You old indecent thing, you deserve to be a bachelor for life!”
The limping young waiter had just finished clearing the table when he overheard the last part of the conversation between the hunchbacked old man and the proprietress. His face was filled with curiosity as he asked, “Boss Lady, what’s going on? We don’t even have a cat in the inn. Could it be a wild cat that snuck in from outside? If I catch it, I’ll give it a good beating! I knew it! The kitchen has been missing chicken legs and steamed buns. It must be that greedy thing stealing them. Don’t worry, Boss Lady, I’ll definitely ferret it out…”

The woman grabbed a feather duster from behind the counter and whacked the limping waiter on the head a few times. “Ferret it out? I dare you to ferret it out!”

Still not appeased, she went around the counter and chased after the boy with the bad leg, beating him until he was practically flying.

She threw the feather duster aside, hesitated for a moment, and then tiptoed upstairs. She slowed her pace, walked back and forth, but couldn’t hear any movement. Returning to the lobby, she spaced out for a while before going behind the curtain to the old hunchback’s domain, the kitchen. She grabbed a palm-sized piece of dried meat and a small pot of half-year-old plum wine. Walking outside the inn, she saw the down-on-his-luck scholar squatting next to the dog. She called out, and when the man in the blue robe looked up, she tossed him the wine and meat, saying coldly, “One tael of silver, put it on your tab. I’m not giving it to you for free.”

Only after the woman crossed the threshold and entered the lobby did the man in the blue robe retract his gaze. He sighed, “Wangcai, do you know what this is called? This is called ‘bearing the weight of a beauty’s kindness!'”

He tore off a small piece of meat for Wangcai at his feet, then stroked his beard. “If I were to shave this beard off, who knows what would happen?!”

As the woman walked up to the second floor, Chen Pingan gently pressed on the painting, turning his head to look towards the entrance.

Fortunately, the woman didn’t knock and disturb him.

Once she went back downstairs, Chen Pingan started tossing in more money.

In one breath, Chen Pingan tossed twelve Grain Rain Coins into the painting.

Still, he couldn’t get Zhu Lian to appear.

Chen Pingan reached for his Sword-Nourishing Gourd, only to remember he’d run out of wine before entering the inn. He could only gently set it down.

The Old Dragon City Song Clan’s Yin God paid with that bamboo scroll, taking out ten Grain Rain Coins. Flying Eagle Fortress’ Lu Tai split the loot, giving Chen Pingan twenty. Adding in the ups and downs of the Upside-Down Mountain trip, Chen Pingan had a total of twenty-nine Grain Rain Coins. For Wei Xian’s sake, he’d fed eleven to the painting, leaving him with eighteen.

Right now, there were only six Grain Rain Coins left on the table.

The martial arts fanatic Zhu Lian was still “showing off” in the painting, refusing to come out. How many more would Chen Pingan have to cough up for the other two paintings, the demonic sect’s Lu Baixiang and Lotus Flower Paradise’s only female Sword Immortal in history, Sui Youbian?

Chen Pingan sighed, glancing at the smiling old man in the painting.

If he threw in any more, he’d truly be penniless. Although he’d accumulated a lot of Snowflake Coins and Minor Heat Coins, they were just numbers. Once they were converted into Grain Rain Coins, their value would shrink drastically.

Chen Pingan felt somewhat helpless. He put away the painting, hiding it in the Flying Sword Fifteen, opened the door, and went downstairs to drink away his worries. Earlier, when he was carrying Wei Xian upstairs, he’d forgotten to fill the Sword-Nourishing Gourd with wine. Shaking the empty “Jiang Gourd,” Chen Pingan thought of that little Daoist boy carrying the giant golden gourd. He grumbled inwardly, mentioning the world’s other six “most” Sword-Nourishing Gourds. Could the one the Daoist boy was carrying be the one that could hold the most wine?

Chen Pingan didn’t know it at the time, but he’d accidentally guessed right, or rather, half-right.

That golden Sword-Nourishing Gourd named “Measurement” did indeed contain the most liquid in the world – the water of the East Sea itself. Because of this, the East Sea’s water level had dropped several feet.

Therefore, even a poor scholar couldn’t help but click his tongue in amazement, adding a flattering remark at the end: “A small gourd, yet it can nurture thousands of dragons! Dao Ancestor is benevolent, very benevolent, extremely benevolent!”

Of course, it could also be because he’d damaged quite a few lotus leaves in the Lotus Flower Cave Mansion while discussing Dao with the old Daoist, that he was saying this to curry favor.

In the Central Earth Divine Continent, in that Confucian temple praised as the “orthodox source of Confucianism,” those clay statues of sages that still stood tall on their altars would definitely not do such a thing – break someone’s things and then try to act innocent and play the rascal. But the old scholar, whose statue had been moved out of the Confucian temple, did it so naturally. He was even more natural than the Daoist Immortals in the White Jade Capital.

Downstairs, the proprietress had a beaming smile.

Handsome, rich, and with a good temperament, the more the woman looked at Chen Pingan, the more pleasing he became.

Chen Pingan ordered a pound of five-year-old plum wine in a small jar and poured it into his Sword-Nourishing Gourd in front of the proprietress.

In the woman’s eyes, the Sword-Nourishing Gourd was just a crimson-colored wine gourd, polished until it was gleaming. It wasn’t worth much, but it was clearly a beloved object of at least two generations, worn smooth over time.

The woman propped her cheek with one hand, turned sideways on the long bench, and looked at the young man with steady hands as he poured the wine. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, the effects of the wine hadn’t faded. She asked with a smile, “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to drink from a bowl, Young Master? If you finish that pound of wine, wouldn’t you have to refill the gourd again?”

But even so, she still brought a pot of wine herself, drinking and enjoying it. She didn’t forget to bring three dishes of snacks to go with the wine, and of course, two pairs of chopsticks.

Chen Pingan smiled, “This is all I can drink. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. No need to refill.”

The woman laughed, “Your friend has a really good capacity for alcohol.”

Chen Pingan felt a little ashamed, thinking, “Wei Xian, you’re an Emperor who founded a nation, at least act like it.”

Chen Pingan asked casually, “Since the Yao family’s frontier army has such a great reputation on the border, does the Boss Lady know any of the Yao family’s big shots today?”

The woman raised an eyebrow, “Oh, Young Master, could you be a spy from the Northern Jin Kingdom?”

Chen Pingan pointed upstairs, “Is this what a spy like me looks like? Traveling with a friend who drinks this much? And followed by a child?”

The woman nodded, “That’s true. If the Northern Jin Kingdom’s spies were all like you, there wouldn’t be so many battles to fight. The world would be at peace long ago.”

She was a little drunk. She stretched out her arm, trying twice but failing to pick up a plate of sauced meat. Chen Pingan gently pushed the plate a little closer. She glanced at him flirtatiously and simply put down her chopsticks. “It won’t hurt to tell you some things, so that you southern barbarians will know how powerful our Great Quan frontier army is.”
She hiccuped, seemingly unashamed, “That General Yao, who spent half his life on horseback, is one of our Great Spring Dynasty’s top-ranking generals. He had three sons and two daughters, but sadly lost two sons and one daughter. His youngest daughter married into a good family in the capital, a match made in heaven, a celestial union they say. He has a whole host of grandchildren, but the two most promising are Yao Xianzhi, who joined the army at the tender age of ten, and Yao Lingzhi, his granddaughter, whose martial talent is renowned throughout the borderlands.”

Chen Pingan curiously inquired, “Why do they all end with ‘zhi’?”

The woman chuckled, “It’s a generational thing.”

Chen Pingan grew even more puzzled, “Shouldn’t the generational character be in the middle? Does Great Spring do things differently?”

The woman retorted, “How would I know the rules of that wealthy Yao family? Can’t rich people have their quirks?”

Chen Pingan probed, “With the Yao family’s iron cavalry being so famous, surely there are many envious souls in Great Spring?”

The woman rolled her eyes, “You’re asking me? Why don’t you ask His Imperial Majesty? Though, he’d have to fancy my looks enough to take me as a concubine. Sure, I’m getting on in years, but he’s the Emperor, after all. Maybe his bed frame is made of solid gold…”

Perhaps she’d finally touched on a topic that amused her, for the woman raised her wine cup and proclaimed, “Life’s path is narrow, but the wine cup is wide! This Jiu Niang will accompany you for a drink, young master.”

Chen Pingan’s eyes lit up, and he raised his cup, exclaiming, “I’ll remember that line! Well said! Cheers!”

They both drained their bowls of wine.

Near the doorway, a man in a green robe sat, furtively watching the pair at the table, a look of resentment on his face, muttering to himself.

“Good dog doesn’t block the way!”

A booming voice shattered the atmosphere. The down-on-his-luck scholar was kicked aside, sprawling on the ground. Three men with sabers at their waists strode into the hall.

The leader, a burly figure, flaunted his chest muscles despite the winter chill. He sat on the bench to Chen Pingan’s left. His two subordinates, familiar with the routine, fetched wine and bowls. In an instant, the bench and table were filled. The burly man refused the clean bowl offered by a younger swordsman, snatching the woman’s bowl instead. He filled it with plum wine, spilling some in the process, and downed it in one gulp. Wiping his mouth, he clutched his stomach, his face contorted in terror, and pointed a trembling finger at the woman. “This wine… it’s poisoned!”

Across the table, the two young men gripped their saber hilts, their faces paling.

The woman scoffed, “Ma Ping, is your brain full of shit? Did you eat too much shit for lunch, and it just happened to be poisoned, rotting your brain?”

The saber-wielding man chuckled, his face returning to normal. “Just a joke. Why are you scolding me?”

His two young colleagues hastily drank wine to calm their nerves.

The man glanced at the bothersome Chen Pingan. “Boy, where are you from? Show me your travel pass!”

The woman was about to speak, but Chen Pingan had already produced his pass from his robes and placed it on the burly man’s table.

The man picked it up, examining the numerous seals stamped upon it. “Quite a few stamps. Traveled far, have you?”

Chen Pingan nodded with a smile.

The man’s temper flared at his demeanor. Accustomed to the groveling and fawning of the residents of Foxburrow, he wanted to teach this young man, who didn’t know how to flatter, a lesson. He was still handsome to boot. It was high time this young man learned who the local bully was, and that he, Ma Ping, would make sure a tiger from the mountain would have to behave, and a dragon crossing the river would coil up peacefully. No one else was allowed to flirt with the inn’s Jiu Niang.

The woman suddenly asked, “Heard there’s more ghost trouble in town? Who’s lost their mind this time?”

The mention of this unpleasant matter extinguished Ma Ping’s enthusiasm. He tossed the travel pass back to the pale-faced youth and grumbled, taking a swig of wine, “It’s truly devilish. Usually, it’s outsiders who are afflicted, but this time, it’s one of our own who’s been struck. Old Liu, the one-armed fellow who runs the paper money shop and helps people with feng shui, has gone completely mad. In this weather, he runs naked through the streets in broad daylight, shouting that he’s too hot. We had to lock him up. Within days, his room was filled with excrement and urine, the stench unbearable. He’s only come to his senses a little today, and he’s finally stopped rambling nonsense. My brothers and I thought we’d come here to ask Jiu Niang for a few bowls of plum wine to fortify our yang energy and ward off the bad luck.”

The woman frowned. “What’s to be done? Didn’t that grandmaster you hired from the city at great expense give you a stack of celestial talismans? What were you bragging about? ‘One talisman, ten thousand ghosts flee’?”

The burly man turned and spat a thick wad of phlegm on the ground. “That so-called grandmaster was a charlatan! I was scammed! Head Constable Han hasn’t stopped giving me a hard time since then.”

Ma Ping exhaled heavily, forcing a smile. He reached out to touch the woman’s hand, but she subtly withdrew it. Ma Ping smiled ingratiatingly. “Jiu Niang, what do you think of me? I’m a respectable figure in Foxburrow, aren’t I? I earn good money, have a clean family background, and I’ve even practiced martial arts. I’ve got endless energy. Aren’t you even a little tempted? Jiu Niang, don’t be shy. Your Ma Ge is not one of those old-fashioned people. I don’t care about your past.”

The woman chuckled softly.

After several more attempts to take advantage of her under the guise of drunkenness, all of which the woman evaded, Ma Ping and his two constable colleagues ordered a table full of food, gorging themselves. It was clear they were openly freeloading. In the end, they even refused to leave, claiming they would sleep upstairs and return to Foxburrow the next day.

Chen Pingan had long since moved to the neighboring table. As the limping waiter cleaned up, the woman sat next to Chen Pingan, letting out a long sigh, looking somewhat weary. She said with a wry smile, “That Ma Ping is the head constable of Foxburrow. His family has been in this profession for generations, barely connected to the government. Such a small place. The officials, even the highest-ranking ones, are nothing more than petty officials. The rest are just clerks, not even officials, but they act like they’re above the heavens.”
Pei Qian, hearing the commotion outside, stealthily opened the door a crack, crouched down, and poked her head through the second-floor railing, peering at the two figures below. After struggling to pull her head back out, she scurried down the stairs. As she neared the table, she overheard the innkeeper complaining to Chen Ping’an about the vexing officials, lamenting how the constables frequented the inn for free meals and drinks, leaving her with no choice but to pay for “peace.”

Pei Qian snickered to herself, her lips curving into a wide grin. She tried to contain her laughter, but ultimately couldn’t help it. Clutching her stomach, she burst into a fit of giggles, “Paying for peace, paying for peace… Oh, I can’t take it anymore, I’m dying of laughter, my stomach hurts…”

Chen Ping’an stood up and walked over to Pei Qian. “Does it still hurt?” he asked.

Pei Qian, her ear now pinched, immediately stopped laughing, looking pitiful. “My stomach doesn’t hurt anymore, but my ear does…”

The innkeeper was utterly bewildered, not knowing what the skinny, mischievous girl was laughing about.

Chen Ping’an bid farewell to the innkeeper and, tugging Pei Qian’s ear, headed towards the staircase. Pei Qian tilted her head, walked on tiptoes, and pleaded that she wouldn’t do it again.

Releasing Pei Qian’s ear once they reached the top of the stairs, Chen Ping’an turned to her at the room’s entrance, instructing, “You’re not allowed to wander around.”

Pei Qian rubbed her ear and nodded.

After Chen Ping’an closed the door, Pei Qian stood by the railing, her eyes meeting the innkeeper’s, who was looking up. Pei Qian snorted and, hopping back into her room, slammed the door shut.

Outside the inn, the setting sun cast long shadows as a figure on horseback approached. It was a young woman, barely past maidenhood, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. Her features were delicate, yet she possessed an air of martial prowess, carrying a horse bow on her back and a saber at her waist. She casually left her steed unattended outside, showing no concern that it might wander off.

The man in green robes was still outside, amusing himself with the dog.

The young woman glanced at the man, dismissing him, and entered the inn. After looking around, she noticed the innkeeper with a surprised expression. Frowning slightly, she stopped and addressed the innkeeper, “Grandfather wants me to tell you to close the inn for now. This place is getting unsettled.”

Before the young woman, the innkeeper lost all her seductive charm, becoming as dignified as a noblewoman from a prominent family. She raised a finger to her lips, signaling caution, and whispered, “Lingzhi, I’ve grown accustomed to being here.”

The young woman retorted, “You don’t know what’s good for you!”

The innkeeper smiled and asked, “Would you like some plum wine?”

The young woman’s face filled with anger.

Drinking?!

The innkeeper, realizing her blunder, felt a pang of shame.

The young woman coldly stated, “Get me a room. I’ll leave tomorrow. Think carefully about what I said.”

The little cripple, trembling, led the young woman upstairs. Under the innkeeper’s silent instructions, he carefully selected the cleanest and most refined room for her.

As the sound of her light footsteps faded away, Chen Ping’an stacked the last six Rain Grain Coins.

One by one, he tossed them into the painting.

After the third coin vanished into the image, Chen Ping’an stood up and slowly stepped back.

An old man, hunched and stooped, hobbled out of the painting.

He jumped off the table and smiled at Chen Ping’an, then reached out to touch the painting. But his hand grasped only air. Even Pei Qian had secretly touched the painting before, yet for Zhu Lian, it was both near and far.

Ethereal and untouchable.

Zhu Lian didn’t seem frustrated, laughing cheerfully, “So that’s how it is, Young Master. Is this the immortal magic of your Vastness World?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “In a way.”

This habitually stooped old man seemed nothing like the rumored madman driven to the brink.

His face was always creased with a smile, his expression kindly. Back in the Lotus Root Paradise, this man had nearly turned the entire Jianghu upside down. Ding Ying, who later surpassed him, was also considered the paramount expert, projecting a strong aura of a grandmaster. This was likely due to Ding Ying’s tall stature, unsmiling demeanor, and the silver lotus crown he wore.

The martial madman named Zhu Lian, standing before him, lacked all that.

Compared to Wei Xian, who kept everything bottled up, Zhu Lian seemed more resigned and forthright, frankly stating, “Now that I’ve arrived in Young Master’s homeland, it will take days just to adapt to the qi flow of this Vastness World. As for returning to my peak condition, that’s hard to say. Hmm, according to your terminology here, I’m currently at the Sixth Realm of a pure martial artist.”

At this, the old man chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I might break through in one fell swoop, I might stagnate, and I might even have this world’s spiritual energy flood my qi meridians, consuming my true energy, gradually eroding my cultivation. However, I have a feeling that aside from the hurdle of the Seventh Realm, becoming an Eighth or Ninth Realm martial artist won’t be too difficult.”

Zhu Lian was being remarkably candid.

Compared to the taciturn Wei Xian, he was indeed much more straightforward.

Zhu Lian walked to the window, opened it, and took a deep breath with his eyes closed, muttering to himself, “This Seventh Realm is somewhat similar to the transition from acquired to innate for the martial artists of the Lotus Root Paradise. It’s the most difficult step to overcome. Once I reach the Seventh Realm of martial arts, I believe further cultivation will just be a matter of gradual refinement over the years. I wouldn’t dare say I’ll definitely reach the Ninth Realm, but the Eighth Realm shouldn’t be too hard.”

Zhu Lian turned back and smiled. “Of course, once I’m accustomed to the abundant spiritual energy here, I’d have a chance to fight a run-of-the-mill Seventh Realm pure martial artist to a draw. I wouldn’t be completely suppressed by the difference in realms, left with no choice but to await death. As for fighting someone of the same realm, as long as it’s not someone like you, Young Master, my chances of winning are very high.”

Chen Ping’an murmured, “The key lies only in the Seventh Realm?”

The old man sat back at the table, lightly tapping the surface with a finger. “I am willing to serve and risk my life for Young Master for thirty years. I hope that after that, Young Master can grant me my freedom. What do you say?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head with a smile. “I don’t know how to restore your freedom.”

The old man was stunned into silence, staring at the painting.

Chen Ping’an guessed that the painting itself was similar to the Natal Porcelain of the Lychee Pearl Paradise, allowing one to control even Jade Purity cultivators of the Upper Five Realms.

Thinking of this, Chen Ping’an chuckled.

On Wei Xian’s side, he was dead drunk, lying in bed, mumbling in his sleep, “A heart filled with killing intent, yet no outward display of murderous aura… truly the bearing of an Emperor.”

A knock sounded on the door. Chen Ping’an put away the last three Rain Grain Coins and the painting. As he was about to open the door, Zhu Lian unexpectedly took the initiative.

Pei Qian blinked, then quickly moved away from Zhu Lian, running behind Chen Ping’an.

Zhu Lian closed the door, turned around, and chuckled. “The little girl has excellent bone structure. Is she Young Master’s daughter?”
Pei Qian nodded vigorously.

Chen Ping’an shook his head, then turned and asked, “Did you need something?”

Pei Qian glanced at Zhu Lian and shook her head.

Zhu Lian, understanding, asked with a smile, “Young Master, do you have a place to stay?”

Chen Ping’an said, “Go out the door, and the second room on the right is it, but Wei Xian lives there. If you don’t want to share a room, I can ask for another room for you.”

“When you roam the martial world, you don’t dwell on such trivialities.”

Zhu Lian waved his hand, then reached out and rubbed his chin, lost in thought. “Young Master, you picked that founding emperor of Nanyuan first?”

Chen Ping’an nodded and instructed, “The two of you, don’t have any conflicts.”

Zhu Lian laughed, “I greatly admire Wei Xian, the match for ten thousand men. I’ll be too busy offering him wine to offend him.”

Zhu Lian walked out of the room and gently closed the door.

Leaving only a crack, Zhu Lian suddenly asked, “May I ask how much money Young Master spent on me?”

Chen Ping’an replied, “Seventeen Grain Rain coins.”

Zhu Lian smiled, “I have put Young Master to trouble.”

After the old man left, Pei Qian, still uneasy, went to bolt the door, finally relieved.

Chen Ping’an asked, “Wei Xian always has a stern face. You’re not afraid of him, but Zhu Lian is so amiable, yet you’re so afraid?”

Pei Qian said softly, “I’m just afraid.”

Chen Ping’an asked again, “What is it?”

Pei Qian said softly, “I don’t think that proprietress is a good person. Plus, a little cripple and an old hunchback, it’s too strange. Could this be a black-hearted inn? The storyteller under the bridge, the stories he tells, some of them are about black-hearted inns, that love to drug the guests and then use them to make human meat buns.”

Chen Ping’an laughed in exasperation. “Don’t let your imagination run wild. Go back and read.”

Pei Qian sighed and left.

Chen Ping’an was no longer in the mood to look at the remaining two paintings. Lu Baixiang and Sui Youbian, one he didn’t quite dare to invite out of the mountains, fearing that inviting a deity would be easier than sending them away, and the other he dared not even more.

Thinking of Pei Qian’s impressions of Wei Xian and Zhu Lian.

Actually, her intuition was spot-on.

Wei Xian’s gaze was from a high place to a low place, after all, he was the emperor of a country whose name would be etched in history.

Zhu Lian’s gaze, on the other hand, was like a living person looking at a dead person, his eyes dark and deep as a pool. The smile on the old man’s face shouldn’t be taken seriously.

On the threshold of the inn, a green-robed guest faced away from the hall, looking up at the colorful sunset in the sky, gently patting his knee, carrying a wine jug. Each time he took a sip of green plum wine, he would murmur a sentence.

“Meeting dragons in the depths of the clouds, encountering deer in the depths of the forest, beauties beside the peach blossoms, heroes on the battlefield, and famed scholars in the humble alleys…”

With a bang.

The green-robed guest was tackled to the ground, falling headfirst, but he didn’t forget to clutch the wine jug tightly.

It turned out that the little cripple had kicked him in the back, angrily saying, “Endlessly, you’re addicted to it? I’ve been tolerating you for a long time!”

The man got up in a disheveled state, patted the dust off his body, and said in a deep voice, “Do you know who I am?”

The little cripple looked at the somewhat unfamiliar impoverished scholar and felt a little guilty, but he put on a brave face and shouted in a loud voice, “Who are you?”

The green-robed guest said earnestly, “What do you call Ninth Sister?”

The little cripple was stunned, “The proprietress, of course.”

The green-robed guest asked again, “Then what is the proprietress’s husband to you?”

The little cripple was about to be driven mad.

He ran out of the threshold, using both fists and feet, chasing after the bastard who only knew his surname was Zhong.

The man held up the wine jug high, dodging everywhere, drinking while fleeing, not feeling any pain from the few punches and kicks he received.

The sun set in the west.

Regarding scholars, there was once a prophecy.

A sentence that the scholar himself didn’t take seriously.

Before Zhong came down the mountain, all ghosts in the world were free to roam.

First, set a small goal, such as 1 second: