Lu Baixiang rose to his feet, smiling as he looked at the handsome youth with a crimson birthmark between his brows. He gestured for Cui Dongshan to take a seat, “Who learns chess and who teaches chess, it’s really not that important.”

This man, one of the strongest Go players in the history of Lotus Root Blessing Land, had a premonition that today, he might play the masterpiece of his life.

Cui Dongshan sat down, one foot resting on the stool, leaning over with his chin propped on his knee, a stark contrast to Lu Baixiang’s upright posture.

Cui Dongshan reached out, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the Go box, and said lazily, “You haven’t been ranked yet, have you?”

Lu Baixiang chuckled, never imagining that he would be so looked down upon on the chessboard. However, Lu Baixiang wouldn’t let such a small matter disturb his composure. He nodded and smiled, “Fresh off the boat, I indeed haven’t been ranked.”

Cui Dongshan nodded, “As for ranking, according to the customs of the mortal world, you can first play three games with a ninth-dan chess master. Three, two, one, the chess master gives the newcomer a handicap of three stones, two stones, and one stone respectively. Of course, the wins and losses don’t affect the final ranking, it’s more of a way of mentoring and bestowing honor. Your luck, Lu Baixiang, is far greater than your chess skills.”

The true determinant of a newcomer’s rank was, of course, the even games with fourth and fifth-dan players.

Cui Dongshan suddenly looked up, “You might think that you have a chance to play a peak game against me, but let me tell you, that’s your illusion. But you’re definitely not convinced, so I’ll reverse the order, one, two, three, I’ll give you a one-stone handicap first, to let you know your true weight. As for whether it’s a fixed handicap or an empty board opening, it’s up to you.”

Lu Baixiang shook his head, “No need for a handicap. Even if I lose, I’ll still know the difference between you and me.”

Cui Dongshan pointed a finger at Lu Baixiang, “I just like your kind of fearless and blindly confident people. Alright, I guess you wouldn’t agree to a handicap game anyway. Then we’ll start with an empty board, but we won’t guess who goes first, you, Lu Baixiang, will take the black stones and move first.”

Lu Baixiang asked with a smile, “Then how many ‘mu’ should be compensated?”

Cui Dongshan’s smile faded, and he became a little impatient, “We’ll talk about it after we play.”

Lu Baixiang meant to follow the host’s wishes. The Go box at his hand happened to contain black stones, so he took the lead and placed a stone.

Cui Dongshan remained unmoved, letting Lu Baixiang play the world-famous “World’s First Small Angle Point” from the *Colorful Clouds Score*. Black stones one, three, and five occupied the corners, black seven defended the corner, and black nine was a small angle point, both impregnable and subtly containing killing intent, like a storm brewing.

Cui Dongshan was unperturbed, playing in a conventional manner, without even using any of the “no loss” responses from later generations.

Lu Baixiang was like an old monk in meditation, immersed in the game, completely forgetting himself.

Cui Dongshan, however, was a chatterbox. Not only was he playing chess absentmindedly, but he also started rambling, truly acting like he was teaching Lu Baixiang how to play, “Actually, fixed handicap games are more fun. The currently popular empty board opening of course has its own advantages, it will make the board ‘bigger’, but if your chess skills aren’t good enough, after using up the ingenious openings of the sages in the early game, it may seem flowery, but once you get to the mid-game, it’s just an eyesore of wrong moves. An old farmer digging a dung pit, a mad dog biting people indiscriminately, catching loaches in a stinky ditch, it’s very boring, enough to make the spectators fall asleep.”

“Today’s people like to criticize the early game of fixed handicap games, only acknowledging the excitement of the central plains in the mid-game, but that’s actually not quite right.”

“Lu Baixiang, your intuition for chess shapes is not bad, but it’s only not bad. As for chess principles, it’s like… Sui Youbian’s undergarment, don’t even mention touching it, you haven’t even seen it, right?”

The game had only just entered the mid-game, but the garrulous Cui Dongshan had already covered the Go box with his palm.

Lu Baixiang looked up, “Mr. Cui, what are you doing?”

Cui Dongshan was stunned, “You haven’t realized that you’ve already lost? At most thirty moves.”

Cui Dongshan raised his hand, “Then let’s continue.”

Lu Baixiang frowned and continued to play.

Undeniably, Lu Baixiang was exceptionally graceful when playing chess. Whether it was reaching for a stone, placing a stone, or examining the board, it was all elegant.

It was a pity that Cui Dongshan didn’t look at any of this. He didn’t even pay much attention to the game itself. He placed his stones like flying, and after each white stone took root on the board, he listlessly waited for Lu Baixiang. Perhaps this was the reason why he kept chattering, the waiting was simply too tedious.

Cui Dongshan said casually, “There’s really no talking about the advantages or disadvantages of fixed handicap and empty board games. Now that chess players are arguing about this and that, in the end, it’s still that their understanding of the game is not deep enough, not broad enough. Actually, besides the *Colorful Clouds Ten Games*, there should originally be an eleventh game. As for the chessboard, it wouldn’t just be nineteen vertical and horizontal lines, it’s too small.”

Lu Baixiang’s heart tightened. He paused for a long time, silently staring at the chessboard, which was actually not complicated.

His opponent had no earth-shattering killing moves, no clever exchanges, no so-called demon blade diagonal.

It was like he had simply played half a game of Go cleanly and easily with him, Lu Baixiang, patiently waiting for him to admit defeat.

Lu Baixiang’s mood was heavy, and he placed two stones in the lower right corner of the board.

Submitting defeat.

Cui Dongshan yawned, “Right? I told you not to think about any ‘mu’ compensation. Next, should I give you a one-stone handicap?”

Lu Baixiang said in a deep voice, “How about Mr. Cui gives me a two-stone handicap?”

Cui Dongshan laughed, “A wise man submits to circumstances, not bad, not bad, it’s not a waste for me to have taught you this game of chess.”

Lu Baixiang smiled bitterly and remained silent. After steadying his mind, he began to clean up the chessboard, and finally took a deep breath and began the second game.

Cui Dongshan still didn’t show any signs of going all out, but predicted early on, “Every move I make is without error, naturally a complete victory.”

Once the game reached the mid-game, Lu Baixiang often needed to think for a long time.

Cui Dongshan didn’t urge him at all, but often looked around, without any proper behavior.

After Lu Baixiang placed a stone, he spoke up for the first time, asking, “Just every move without error?”

Cui Dongshan hummed, “Just like that. But my so-called without error isn’t what I would say to ordinary ninth-dan national players. You don’t understand, this is a profound learning that’s ten thousand miles away, how can I teach a child in a school?”

This game, after all, was dragged by Lu Baixiang to the endgame stage, but he still submitted defeat.

Cui Dongshan completely changed, becoming interested, and asked with a smile, “Third game, shall we add a little stake?”

Lu Baixiang asked back, “What stake?”
Cui Dongshan chuckled, “My master once told me that each of you four has a sentence, the general meaning of which I already know. However, I also know that among you, someone must be lying. It might not be entirely false, perhaps half-true and half-false. Logically speaking, Lu Baixiang, you are the most suspicious because your sentence sounds like complete nonsense. But none of that matters. If I win the third game, all you need to do, Lu Baixiang, is tell me who you think is most likely to be lying. Just name anyone, anyone at all.”

Lu Baixiang was caught between laughter and tears. “In that case, what’s the point?”

Cui Dongshan said in a serious tone, “There is a point.”

Lu Baixiang pondered for a moment, then shook his head. “Two games are enough.”

Cui Dongshan looked disappointed. “It’s not difficult for your Go skills to reach a strong 9-dan level in Baopingzhou, even if it’s only equivalent to an ordinary 9-dan in the Central Earth Divine Continent. Still, it’s not bad. Study more chess, analyze more games, and in the future, in the Go community of the Central Earth Divine Continent, where masters are as common as clouds, you, Lu Baixiang, could have a place. Are you afraid to even let me three stones?”

Lu Baixiang hesitated, then curiously asked, “Master Cui’s Go skills, in this vast world, can they rank in the top ten?”

Cui Dongshan rolled his eyes. “Go is just a minor art. What if it ranks in the top ten? Some cultivators of the Yin-Yang and Art schools in the upper five realms are all proficient in this. So what? They still get beaten to a pulp by cultivators of the same realm.”

Lu Baixiang’s eyes burned with curiosity. “Dare I ask, how big is the gap between Master Cui and the City Lord of White Emperor City?”

Cui Dongshan thought for a while. “About a ‘black goes first’ horse relay race.”

Lu Baixiang’s state of mind gradually calmed down. He smiled and asked, “If you let me three stones, and I win, what will Master Cui do?”

Cui Dongshan pointed to the book “Colorful Cloud Score.” “I’ll eat it.”

Lu Baixiang took it as a joke and couldn’t help but ask, “How much difference is there between Master Cui and Grand Preceptor Cui Chan of the Great Li Dynasty in terms of Go skills?”

Cui Dongshan glanced at Lu Baixiang but said nothing.

Lu Baixiang apologized. “I was being rude.”

Cui Dongshan stood up and asked, “Having lost two games, what are your thoughts?”

Lu Baixiang stood up as well, genuinely impressed. “I have benefited greatly. A glorious defeat.”

Cui Dongshan shook his head, unimpressed. “You have no right to say those last four words.”

Watching Cui Dongshan’s departing figure, Lu Baixiang sat back down and began to review the game on his own.

Cui Dongshan walked along the corridor, murmuring, “Wei Xian, things are a bit dangerous for you.”

Then he chuckled self-deprecatingly. “But what does this even matter?”

He suddenly smiled and went to knock on Sui Youbian’s door. “Sister Sui, are you there? I’ve already finished learning Go from Lu Baixiang. How about I learn some swordplay from you?”

Chen Ping’an put the treasure chest back into the bamboo trunk and left the inn alone, wandering around to experience the local customs and culture.

The small county town, though small, had everything: the Temple of Literature and Martial Arts, the City God Temple, the county school, all kinds of shops, you name it.

There were potholed dirt roads, budding willow trees, the sounds of chickens crowing and dogs barking, and brand-new spring couplets and door gods.

There were traveling merchants from out of town hurrying about their business, and energetic children running around, mostly wearing the new clothes they had changed into for the New Year.

As he walked, he unknowingly arrived outside the Temple of Martial Arts. Along the way, he passed a Temple of the God of Wealth, which had flourishing incense compared to the deserted Temple of Literature.

Chen Ping’an had traveled thousands upon thousands of miles and noticed an interesting thing. Common people seemed to revere the great gods but not feel close to them, while they felt more intimacy towards the Temples of the God of Wealth, the Earth God, and various Goddess Temples, these small shrines with low divine positions. For example, in the Qingluan Kingdom, with its many Taoist temples and monasteries, the common people would often burn incense and bow to the main god in the central hall and then leave, not lingering for long. However, at the feet of deities in charge of specific affairs, they would kowtow piously, muttering words of prayer and making wishes.

Chen Ping’an entered the Temple of Martial Arts. The number of sparse pilgrims could be counted on his fingers.

The statue was in the form of a military general, a painted clay sculpture, holding an iron mace, with a fierce and angry expression, quite imposing.

The temple warden was nowhere to be seen. Chen Ping’an was currently a martial artist in the fifth realm, but his injuries had not yet healed. This had both advantages and disadvantages, offering a glimmer of hope to compete for that ethereal title of “strongest.” Of course, this was provided that Cao Ci, the heaven-defying genius of the Great End Dynasty, had already entered the sixth realm of martial artists. The key to the sixth realm was finding a heroic heart, somewhat similar to the Core Formation of Qi Refiners. There were two main shortcuts: one was to enter the Temple of Martial Arts and try one’s luck to see if one could gain favor and be granted a share of martial fortune.

The other was to go to the sites of ancient battlefields and fight against the wandering heroic spirits who refused to disperse, but this was quite dangerous. Ancient battlefield sites rarely had solitary wandering spirits. Those heroic military commanders whose intelligence had not dissipated had an army of Yin soldiers and generals under their command, which were extremely difficult to deal with. The Immortal book purchased from Upside-Down Mountain recorded that there was a huge site in the Central Earth Divine Continent where the heroic spirit possessed cultivation equivalent to the twelfth realm of Qi Refiners, plus it was equivalent to a military strategist saint sitting on the battlefield, no different from a legendary Ascended Realm existence. Under his command, there were hundreds of thousands of Yin soldiers and generals. It was said that before taking office, successive Dragon Tiger Mountain Celestial Masters needed to go there for training, and many tragic events of their fall occurred.

Chen Ping’an never had any hope for the Martial Temple’s gift. Today he was just taking a walk and happened to be here. He was more longing for those ancient battlefield sites that had gone down in history, relying on his own two fists to forge a solid sixth realm.

Chen Ping’an stood alone in the main hall of the Martial Temple. The county town’s Martial Temple was too small, there was no place to buy incense. People brought their own incense. Chen Ping’an felt that clasping his hands together seemed inappropriate, so he simply cupped his fists in salute, paying his respects to the Martial Saint as a martial artist, and then turned to leave.

Outside the main hall, the spring sun shone brightly.

Chen Ping’an stepped over the threshold.

Now that the Bridge of Longevity had been rebuilt and the first natal item had been successfully refined, Chen Ping’an was equivalent to having one foot across the threshold of Qi Refiners.
This was by no means a great blessing, for the world rarely offers both bear paws and shark fins. Especially since the paths of a Qi cultivator and a pure martial artist run counter to each other. While not entirely unheard of to cultivate both, such individuals were exceedingly rare across the myriad realms. Some sword cultivators of the Great Wall of Sword Qi, Daoist priests from the Blade Chamber, and the few freaks Cui Chan had mentioned, all belonged to this category. The reason such a practice was deemed foolish by the orthodox schools was that the further one progressed, the more likely one was to encounter fatal flaws. Forming a Golden Core was already difficult for Qi cultivators, and breaking through the bottlenecks of the nascent soul stage and overcoming inner demons was even harder. Buddhist cultivation of the indestructible golden body and Daoist pursuit of the flawless, glazed body were both relentless pursuits of “perfection,” while martial arts cultivation prioritized absolute purity.

Choosing to tread both paths simultaneously was akin to inviting hardship, easily leading to mediocrity in both.

Just as Chen Pingan’s right foot was about to cross the threshold, a ripple of spiritual energy stirred behind him, accompanied by a resonant voice, “Immortal Master, please wait.”

Chen Pingan withdrew his foot, turned around, and walked back into the main hall. The painted deity statue rippled with golden light, from which emerged a middle-aged general clad in golden armor, descending into the hall.

This local Martial Saint of the Azure Luan Kingdom clasped his fist in salute and said with a smile, “Thanks to the assistance of your disciple, Immortal Master, both our literary and martial temples were spared from disaster. We wonder if the Immortal Master would grant us an opportunity to repay this kindness? If the Immortal Master requires anything, please do not hesitate to ask. As long as it is within our capabilities, neither temple would dare to decline.”

Chen Pingan smiled and replied, “This time, it was my disciple’s own volition, and has nothing to do with me. There is no need for the Martial Saint to thank me. I am merely passing through, and I apologize for the disturbance.”

The Martial Saint said helplessly, “I would have wished for more disturbances.”

Chen Pingan was at a loss for words.

The power of divine incense was truly wondrous.

As Chen Pingan had nothing pressing, he simply chose a prayer mat and sat down. The Martial Saint erected some obscuring formations and prohibitions to prevent alarming the mortals and also took a seat.

Chen Pingan inquired about the origins and rituals of the literary and martial temples, and also asked about matters pertaining to the “Literary Courage.” This question was mixed among a medley of other questions, so it did not appear out of place.

The Martial Saint answered everything he knew, without reservation.

Chen Pingan, having achieved his purpose, rose to thank him and bid farewell. The Martial Saint only saw him to the entrance of the main hall. After the young Immortal Master had receded into the distance, the golden-bodied avatar returned to reside within the clay statue.

The young man in white robes walked along the street, past verdant trees, past a yellow dog basking in the sun, past children filled with joyful laughter. The young man muttered to himself, mumbling.

“At your age, there are always things you can’t do, or things you try hard to do but still fail. What does it matter? It doesn’t matter.”

“But failing to do well is different from doing wrong. Being young doesn’t mean you don’t have to be afraid of making mistakes, but it’s not an excuse for not correcting your mistakes.”

“If you had sensible parents, they would beat and scold you for your mistakes. If you went to school, the teachers would use a ruler or board to smack your palms. Little Treasure Bottle has Master Qi, and Big Brother Li Xisheng. Cao Qinglang has parents, and now goes to school. You have none. It doesn’t matter, I will teach you.”

“But what is the best way to teach you? When I was your age, no one ever taught me.”

The young man from out of town walked past Spring Festival couplets with clumsy calligraphy, and crudely drawn door gods.

He was not in a hurry to return to the inn.

Chen Pingan suddenly recalled something, turned into a secluded alley, and retrieved a yellow paper talisman from his “Inch-Close Object” jade token. This was the one that housed the gaudy-dressed ghost of the Painted Colors Kingdom. On the Cinnamon Island bound for Inverted Mountain, Aunt Gui and the Golden Core old sword cultivator, Ma Zhi, helped him make a pact with the female ghost. However, Chen Pingan had suffered greatly at the hands of a bride ghost in red dress before, and had a natural aversion to evil spirits and the like. Since leaving Cinnamon Island, he had not given the female ghost a chance to appear.

Now that she had seen the light of day again, she was momentarily disoriented, standing in the shadows, graceful yet emanating a chilling aura.

She was dressed in a magnificent, colorful robe with wide sleeves, her hands hidden within. But Chen Pingan knew that besides her beautiful face, everything below the neck of this female ghost was bone.

She performed a deep bow, revealing two sections of snowy white… skeletal wrists, and said with a delicate demeanor, “This servant greets master.”

Chen Pingan found it difficult to speak, and hesitated.

It was when they signed the contract that Chen Pingan learned the female ghost’s real name was Shi Rou.

Chen Pingan kept an eye out for anyone passing by, while mentally formulating his words.

She smiled and said, “Does master need this servant to do some unsavory things? Master need not hesitate, it is this servant’s duty.”

Chen Pingan sighed and shook his head, “I don’t want you to do those shady, vile things. You are a woman, I want to ask you about things you are good at.”

The skeletal female ghost narrowed her eyes, “Oh? May I ask master, is it about matters between men and women?”

She laughed, a skeletal arm emerging from her wide sleeve, covering her mouth as she giggled, her eyes icy cold. “I didn’t expect master to have such strange preferences, it is this servant’s good fortune.”

Chen Pingan ignored the sarcasm in her words and said helplessly, “I want to ask you, when you were alive, did you marry and raise children? Do you know anything about establishing rules for children and younger generations?”

She was at a loss, Chen Pingan’s thoughts clearly taking her by surprise. In her early years, her soul was confined in that painting, forced to do the evil bidding for that old immortal master, doing disgusting things against her will, which was better than watching her sisters’ souls dissipate. Some of her pitiful sisters’ souls were even made into candles using the old man’s extremely sinister “waxing method” of immortal arts, their souls used as wicks, melting away bit by bit, a tragic fate. Besides her, who dared to defy him?

But now she had a new master, how could things be so different?

She breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head, “This servant never married in life, and knows nothing of what master speaks.”

Chen Pingan nodded and, without another word, took her back into the talisman, placing it in his “Inch-Close Object.”

Within the dark confines of the talisman prison, the female ghost swayed, looking bewildered. Was that all?

She felt a little resentful. Had she known, she would have tricked him a bit. How long had it been since she had seen the scenery of the outside world?

Even if it meant enduring the pain of the astral winds that felt like flaying flesh and the thunder that felt like scraping bone, she would have been willing.

Chen Pingan walked out of the alley and finally sat down on the steps outside a closed door, hugging his knees and staring blankly into space.
Walking past a family of three, dressed in humble clothing. The child was innocent and carefree, while the woman’s eyes were red with what seemed like resentment. The man was all smiles, trying to placate her, a strip of meat wrapped in oiled paper in his hand. But the more solicitous he was, the more agitated she became, finally grabbing her son’s hand and striding away, leaving the man standing alone.

The man, his back slightly hunched, looked weary. This trip to his wife’s family home had brought together all the sons-in-law. There was one who worked in the yamen, another who was a tutor in a wealthy household, and then there was him, just a humble farmer. The father-in-law had given gifts in return, the other two sons-in-law receiving haunches of pork, while he was only given a strip of meat. Naturally, he felt resentful. But his wife was blaming him, and as a man, could he really argue in front of their child? In the end, wasn’t it because he was useless? The man sighed, then suddenly noticed a young man with an unfamiliar face squatting by a doorway not far away. He subconsciously straightened his back, gave Chen Ping’an a smile, and then hurried off towards his receding wife and child.

Chen Ping’an watched this scene. Although he didn’t understand their words, he himself came from a poor place like Mud Lane. He was familiar with the petty squabbles of the lower classes, the little things that slowly eroded people’s spirits. So, Chen Ping’an could roughly guess that when that child grew a little older, he would probably understand the hardships of both his parents. Perhaps he would study harder in school, perhaps he would smile less often. He might feel that his father, who was once a towering figure in his eyes, was actually a bit of a failure, and he would join his mother in despising him. But it was also possible that on the way home today, he would help his father carry that strip of meat, and then his parents would reconcile, feeling that life, after all, could go on.

All possibilities.

Pei Qian was copying scriptures in her room.

After finishing, she quietly stood by the door, eavesdropping on the sounds outside.

But she waited a long time without hearing any footsteps.

She leaned against the door, squatting down, looking at her toes.

In the beginning, she wasn’t used to walking mountain paths, and her soles were covered in blisters. She didn’t dare to prick them.

Someone squatted beside her, helping her to pop each one, then applied some mashed herbs, and it didn’t hurt anymore.

While Pei Qian was lost in thought, a familiar voice sounded outside the door, asking, “Did you copy the scriptures today?”

Pei Qian immediately jumped up, shouting loudly, “I’m done!”

The footsteps gradually faded away, followed by the gentle sound of the door closing next door.

Let’s set a small goal, like 1 second: