Inside a high-rise building in Poolwater City.

Cui Chan, the Grand Tutor of the Great Li Dynasty, had already set aside three flying sword messages tonight, ignoring them all.

Cui Dongshan walked slowly along the edge of the golden thunder pool, his hands clasped behind his back, and asked, “What is the meaning of what Zhong Kui wrote? And what exactly did Ruan Xiu see?”

Cui Chan casually brushed him off with two rhetorical questions, “Do you think I’m the Dao Ancestor? All calculated ultimate truths require a massive accumulation of information. Don’t you even have this basic knowledge?”

Cui Dongshan was even more dismissive, “Boring. Just looking for something to chat about. Did you take me seriously?”

Cui Chan received another extremely discreet flying sword message. Like all the previous ones, it didn’t arrive from the airspace above the Book Briefcase Lake territory, but instead a spring appeared within the high-rise, and as the spring water flowed, a flying sword broke through the air, and then the spring vanished.

This was naturally one of the highest secrets of the Great Li military, requiring the immense effort of the Great Li Mohist cultivators, as well as an astonishing amount of immortal money.

Cui Chan still didn’t open the flying sword, and slowly said, “Taking humanity as the foundation, not even discussing ghosts and monsters, is the height that a Confucian Sage, seated to oversee a continent, must possess, and then one must think about the world, think about things beyond ‘humanity.’ This surpasses the learning of a gentleman. A gentleman only needs to benefit the land of one kingdom, and then plot for a continent. Therefore, a gentleman’s foundation lies in humanity.”

Cui Chan continued, “Chen Ping An’s idea of breaking out of this circle, disregarding academic qualifications, only considering the size, is similar to the Grand Commandant Wei Liang of the Azure Luan Kingdom, who proposed that the laws of the world must be based on humanity. They share a similar goal by different routes. This means that discussing human laws with all mountain spirits and ghosts is not applicable.”

Cui Dongshan asked, “Is that why you regard the Legalist disciple Wei Liang as half of your comrade?”

Cui Chan nodded, “Before reaching the end of the road, we can be considered to have different routes leading to the same destination, and can greatly complement each other in terms of practical affairs.”

Cui Chan turned his head and smiled, “By the way, why didn’t you ask me to help conceal the port’s phenomenon before? Weren’t you afraid of attracting unnecessary attention?”

Cui Dongshan continued to walk in circles around the golden thunder pool, casually saying, “No need. In the end, it’s something we can both understand, not to mention the level that the Old Master reached when he participated in the two Three Teachings Debates. Chen Ping An’s learning won’t scare anyone to death. What can truly scare people to death are the Old Master’s words that directly shattered the Buddha’s spiritual platform and the Daoist’s immaculate mind.”

Cui Chan seemed to agree with this statement, “Chen Ping An can be considered to be walking halfway up the mountain, carrying a lantern in his hand, the light flickering, dimly illuminating the small path under his feet. Not counting you and me, the benefit is not great, then it’s a pity that only Zhong Kui and Ruan Xiu have seen it.”

Cui Dongshan stopped walking, glanced at the landscape painting spread out on the ground in front of Cui Chan, and sneered, “The rest, even if they see it, will only find it annoying. It’s better if they don’t understand it at all. If they understand it halfway, they will become more and more insecure, especially the leftmost person in the upper half of the circle. That’s how the world and people’s hearts are. Chen Ping An can see through it all. Gu Can, that doorman cultivator on Green Gorge Island, what do you think will happen if they see it? They will only become more irritable. Therefore, it’s said that the joys and sorrows of life are predetermined, at least half of it is true. Those who are destined to wallow in the mud will remain so for a lifetime. Those who are destined to see a glimmer of light and crawl out of the cesspool will naturally crawl out, shake off the filth, and transform from muddy-legged individuals to elegant gentlemen in terms of temperament, like that Lu Baixiang.”

Cui Chan’s expression was calm and leisurely.

This pair of “originally one person, separated souls” old and young foxes, this seemingly carefree chat from beginning to end, implicitly implied a great tacit understanding, both intentionally or unintentionally, trying to downplay the height and significance of Chen Ping An’s port circle.

Next, they were silent.

Cui Chan began to open the four flying sword messages one by one.

Because the immortal money required to support such a flying sword “traveling through the gaps in the river of time” was extremely high, the length of each message was often not long, and the wording was as concise as possible.

This was also one of the achievements after Cui Chan became the Grand Tutor of the Great Li, focusing on rectifying the bureaucratic redundancy.

He tried his best to use language that everyone could “understand” among the Great Li civil and military officials.

Cui Chan seemed to be handling busy government affairs.

Cui Dongshan was inspired, repeatedly reciting a sentence in his heart, a saying that the Old Master once mentioned in private discussions with a Buddha from the vast world, a “grand” statement.

“My heart is bright, what more is there to say?”

After Cui Chan methodically handled all military and political affairs, he replied to each one.

Then Cui Chan sat silently, immersing himself in his mind with the method of inner vision. The “Cui Chan” nascent soul, sitting cross-legged in his natal acupoint, twisted the trajectory of the straight line in the port circle, turning it into the yin-yang fish pattern that the Dao Ancestor drew in the world.

Then, with a wave of his sleeve, he gently pushed the circle aside, and then re-watched the original circle, looking at it being divided into six major blocks, six blocks. Chen Ping An mentioned at the time that instead of looking from high to low, he walked in circles, so there was only left and right, moving mountains and seas, shifting people’s hearts, which is called endless reincarnation!

The mind’s nascent soul of Cui Chan became increasingly pale as he looked at it.

Suddenly, Cui Chan pulled out his mind, opened his eyes, and within a large sleeve, his fingers rapidly formed a hand seal, using the character “Yao” as the beginning.

At some point thereafter.

“Cui Dongshan!”

“Cui Chan!”

The old and the young called out each other’s names almost simultaneously.

Cui Dongshan quickly took out the Time Horse Lantern painting that he had shown to Pei Qian, and spread it out on the ground.

Cui Chan then quickly came to the edge of Cui Dongshan’s golden thunder pool and said in a deep voice, “Pick out all the scenes of people with the surname Yao from the Long Kiln’s kiln head! All of them!”

Cui Dongshan was enraged and said, “That old Yang, is even more of an old bastard than you! He must have deliberately hidden all the traces of the Yao kiln head, deceiving the heavens and crossing the sea! Our previous perfunctory deductions were simply led into the stinky ditch by Old Yang! This is definitely a deal between Old Yang and the Yao kiln head! Cui Chan, you and I must not work for others, I, Cui Chan, can be forced to death by the Confucian literary lineage, can be crushed to death by the general trend of the world, but I absolutely, absolutely, must not be killed by stupidity!”

In his urgency, Cui Dongshan didn’t even care about his slip of the tongue, calling himself “Cui Chan.”
Cui Dongshan, growing increasingly frantic, erupted in curses, “Was Qi Jingchun blind?! Wasn’t his chess skill considered a match for the City Lord of White Emperor City? The first fifty-nine years of the Li Zhu Grotto-heaven, let’s not dwell on them. Qi Jingchun only experienced disappointment! But after deciding to entrust the most important part of that disappointment to Chen Ping’an, why didn’t he manage him? Why turn a blind eye and let things be?! I knew it! The Buddhist sect, as the one collecting rent from the Li Zhu Grotto-heaven for three thousand years, wouldn’t be so simple! Maybe that ascetic monk was just a smokescreen!”

Compared to Cui Dongshan’s fury, Cui Chan was much calmer, asking, “Those two flying swords on Chen Ping’an, before the names ‘Chu Yi’ and ‘Shi Wu,’ what were their real names?”

Cui Dongshan frowned, “I only know that the one Chen Ping’an named Chu Yi, ‘First Day,’ was from the Yellow Court Kingdom. After Old Xiucai’s painting of mountains and rivers cracked, Old Xiucai walked out of the painting and gave it to Chen Ping’an. The second flying sword, ‘Shi Wu,’ ‘Fifteenth,’ was from Old Yang, that ten-thousand-year-old tortoise who’s lived nearly as long as that stinky Daoist from the East Sea. He asked Chen Ping’an for some worthless junk in exchange, and actively gave it to Chen Ping’an. Old Yang said it was called Shi Wu, obviously a random, made-up name to match Chen Ping’an’s renaming of Chu Yi.”

Cui Chan lowered his head, gazing intently at the fragmented images extracted from the River of Time scroll using a unique secret method.

Cui Dongshan pointed outside the tower, cursing, “Qi Jingchun is blind, and Old Xiucai has gone mad too?!”

Cui Chan said calmly, “Who painstakingly arranged for Chen Ping’an to study Buddhist scriptures?”

Cui Dongshan spat vehemently outside the golden lightning pool, aiming at Cui Chan’s head, “Damn you! If you hadn’t set up this scheme to trap our master and disciple, would I have let Chen Ping’an study those orthodox texts of the Three Teachings and Hundred Schools?”

Cui Chan didn’t raise his head. With a flick of his sleeve, the spit flew back into Cui Dongshan’s face.

Cui Dongshan casually wiped his face, still indignant, continuing to curse heaven and earth.

After watching the scenes related to the “Old Yao” that Chen Ping’an spoke of for the second time, Cui Chan said softly, “Don’t forget the locust leaf with the character ‘Yao,’ obtained with Qi Jingchun’s help. So many ancestral locust leaves on a locust tree, yet only this one fell. Let’s extract this segment of the River of Time and take a look.”

Cui Dongshan did as he was told.

When it came to truly important matters, Cui Dongshan never acted stubbornly or pretentiously.

On the painting, after Qi Jingchun obtained the only locust leaf willing to leave the branch for Chen Ping’an, he had quietly turned his head, looking towards the highest point of the locust tree, a hint of mockery in his smile.

Qi Jingchun only glanced once.

Yet it happened to be a “gaze” exchanged across the River of Time between them three, years later, as they “overlooked” the painting.

Coincidence?

Deliberate?

Cui Dongshan felt a chill in his heart, while Cui Chan’s face turned grim.

Cui Dongshan murmured, “Was Qi Jingchun mocking the shortsightedness of those locust-shaded clan ancestors, or was he laughing at us for not being able to guess what he was doing? Or perhaps, both?”

Cui Chan remained silent, slowly deducing and calculating the matter in his mind.

Cui Dongshan plopped down on the ground, wailing, “What have we done? You old bastard, you have higher cultivation, you’re older, and you’ve eaten more iron than I have! Why don’t you tell me? My heart feels so heavy right now, just like my teacher’s mind is barren, he can barely write at the ferry. I’m also exhausted, I can’t even curse you anymore.”

Cui Chan played deaf and dumb.

Cui Dongshan scratched his head with both hands, “These days are hard. The teacher is worried, and the student is worried too. We don’t share the blessings, but we share the troubles. I can’t take it anymore, I can’t take it anymore.”

Cui Chan suddenly smiled, “You’re even more afraid of Qi Jingchun than I am. So I know that at the beginning of the plan, you hoped that Qi Jingchun was dead more than I did. But now, have you changed your mind and hope that Qi Jingchun can come back and haunt us again?”

Cui Dongshan was silent and dejected.

Cui Chan pointed to the River of Time scroll, “Put it away. There’s no point in thinking too much. Guessing Qi Jingchun’s intentions now is no longer meaningful.”

Cui Dongshan shuffled over to the River of Time scroll, slapped Qi Jingchun’s face on the painting, and, not appeased, slapped him two more times, “Is there any junior brother in the world who schemes against his senior brother like you? Huh? Come on, if you have the guts, come out and talk, and see if I don’t argue with you properly…”

Cui Chan said, “Aren’t you ashamed?”

Cui Dongshan angrily put away the River of Time scroll.

Cui Chan changed the subject, “Since you mentioned arguing, do you remember the time Old Xiucai won an argument against the Buddhist and Daoist schools and returned to the school, he wasn’t particularly happy. Instead, he rarely drank wine and lamented to us, saying that he recalled the nameless commoners in history who met the Sage and the Ritual Sage on the road and dared to argue their own principles, not fearing them. If they understood something, they would laugh heartily. If they felt something was wrong, they would argue loudly. I remember very clearly that when Old Xiucai said these words, his expression was generous, even more admirable than when he debated with the Buddhist and Daoist schools. Why is that?”

Cui Dongshan said indignantly, “Old Xiucai’s ambition is higher than the sky!”

Cui Chan asked a series of questions in one breath, “Why is it that reading and writing are now easier than in ancient times, but people are becoming more and more awestruck by the principles of the Sages and Worthies of the Hundred Schools? Confucian disciples actually feel that their knowledge must be inferior to the Sages, that people of today are destined to be inferior to the ancients. Why is it that as the world’s knowledge increases, the minds of later generations become shorter?”

Cui Dongshan sighed, “Perhaps it’s because as life gets better, we become more and more numb to the world, like those gods who were once high above.”

Cui Chan narrowed his eyes, “For us, as long as we survive the upcoming calamity, isn’t this a good thing?”

Cui Dongshan’s face stiffened.

Cui Chan sneered, “Regret it?”

Cui Dongshan trembled all over.

This was unprecedented for the white-clad youth, who was usually carefree and lawless.
Cui Chan abruptly stood up, “You found a decent mentor. Most people, say ninety-nine percent of the riffraff in this Shujian Lake, even if the Old Daoist Ox-Nose tossed them into the River of Time in Lotus Blossom Paradise, they could stare at three thousand years of history and still see nothing of value.”

Cui Dongshan asked, puzzled, “Why bring that up? I get a bad feeling whenever you praise someone.”

Cui Chan gazed at the moonlit lake outside the building, “The Great Li is currently swamped with affairs. I can’t stay here receiving crucial flying sword messages every day, it would delay matters of real importance to us. I’m not like you. If Chen Ping’an can’t overcome this obstacle, you’ll be implicated, while I’m already in an unassailable position. So there’s a reason why I’m more important than you.”

Cui Dongshan didn’t seem surprised by Cui Chan’s departure, and didn’t say much.

Cui Dongshan’s eyes subtly darted around.

Cui Chan, with his back to Cui Dongshan, said, “I advise you to show some backbone and not think about stirring up any shady schemes while I’m gone. If you do that, I’ll be very disappointed in you.”

Sitting on the ground, Cui Dongshan lightly waved a sleeve, as if he were “sweeping the floor.”

Cui Chan said, “Ask any questions you have now, before I leave.”

Cui Dongshan didn’t stand on ceremony and immediately asked, “Are you really letting Liu Laocheng kill Gu Can? Aren’t you going to intervene?”

Cui Chan shook his head, “It’s not that important to the overall plan. I’m not Chen Ping’an, why would I care about the life of some young whelp? If Gu Can dies, Liu Laocheng will still have to do business with our Great Li. It’s just a change from Liu Zhimao to Liu Laocheng, and even their surnames are the same. Actually, it’s better this way. Liu Zhimao himself can’t command respect. His Shujian Lake rogue cultivator style is no different from the corrupt officials of decaying dynasties, outwardly obedient but inwardly defiant. It’s better to have Liu Laocheng, who understands the situation better. He’ll be more cooperative with our Great Li, not like Liu Zhimao, who could easily get bogged down, take the benefits but be unable to act decisively, possibly becoming a coward and giving Liu Zhimao a chance to drive up the price. So even if Liu Laocheng demands a higher price after becoming the lord of the lake, and the Great Li has to make more concessions initially, in the long run, the Great Li can still recoup its losses.”

Cui Dongshan quickly asked again, “If, I mean if, Qi Jingchun’s ghost really haunts the place, what happens when he comes after you’re gone?”

Cui Chan replied, “Naturally, I’ve left a contingency plan in the shadows of Shujian Lake, like the Li Zhu Grotto-Heaven, where the Daoists left Headmaster Lu. I’m not you. I do what I say. Don’t try to guess. If you overstep your bounds and break the rules, I have other plans to deal with you.”

Cui Dongshan was silent, this time sweeping the floor with both sleeves.

Cui Chan sighed, “The difference between the worthy and the unworthy is like a rat, it depends on where it finds itself. A rat never knows it’s stealing when it moves grain.”

He turned his head and asked with a smile, “So what about us humans? If we attain immortality, and there are unknowable beings above us watching, what are we humans doing?”

Cui Dongshan muttered, “Why ask me about something you’ve already figured out? We chose to do what we’re doing because we understood that. That’s why Zhu Lian, the most interesting of the four in the Lotus Blossom Paradise painting, could watch from afar and come to the correct conclusion, saying that you and I are ‘those who see the fish in the deep abyss and are therefore inauspicious.'”

Cui Chan smiled, “I’m afraid you’ll become the next Gu Can, with a bad memory.”

Cui Dongshan rolled his eyes.

Cui Chan smiled slightly, “My two dealings with Qi Jingchun, Li Zhu Grotto-Heaven, and Shujian Lake, were both contests between gentlemen.”

Cui Dongshan’s expression was strange.

Cui Chan said, “Your doubt means that I, too, had some self-doubt this time. But I’m telling you now, it’s a contest between gentlemen.”

Cui Dongshan asked again, “Qi Jingchun could watch Zhao Yao defect to another literary lineage, after all, it was within Confucianism. Qi Jingchun could also leave three books to Song Jixin, expounding the essence of Legalism, after all, the conflict between Confucianism and Legalism isn’t too extreme. But if Qi Jingchun pushes Chen Ping’an into Buddhism, and Chen Ping’an doesn’t return, what does that mean? Even if Qi Jingchun pondered Buddhist teachings when he was stationed in Li Zhu Grotto-Heaven, I don’t think he truly embraced Zen, I firmly believe that. Then, what is Chen Ping’an to Qi Jingchun? A junior disciple? The teacher and protector of Li Baoping, Zhao Yao, and Song Jixin? Or Qi Jingchun’s true successor?! Or perhaps, nothing at all?”

Cui Chan said with a chuckle, “I don’t know.”

Cui Dongshan murmured, “I knew it.”

Cui Chan, like an elder instructing a junior, said to Cui Dongshan, “Little brat, don’t ever say ‘I concede’ to anyone again. A person’s spirit is easy to fall and hard to rise. A chess player concedes in his heart and throws his pieces on the board, who would actually say ‘I concede’?”

Cui Dongshan said listlessly, “Stop lecturing me. We’re not the same person anymore.”

Cui Chan didn’t put away the painting on the ground, naturally leaving it for Cui Dongshan. He finally laughed, “You should be sighing right now, saying, ‘My teacher, his worries are many.'”

Cui Dongshan didn’t refute him, but instead echoed, “The distant green hills are so charming, but the path within the mountains is difficult, and there are bandits along the way.”

Cui Chan stepped out, as if through a doorway, and vanished in a flash.

After confirming that Cui Chan was truly gone, Cui Dongshan raised both hands, rolled up his sleeves, and a chessboard and two jars of colored cloud stones appeared before him.

He sat upright, with a solemn and respectful expression, taking the matter seriously.

And began to play Gomoku (Five in a Row).

Chen Ping’an hastily set off from Great Li for Shujian Lake around the time of the Autumn Equinox.

Upon reaching the jurisdiction of Shujian Lake, he took a carriage to the lakeside town of Chisui. The scenery along the way was described as, “Mountains are clear and waters are pure, night brings frost, several trees are deep red emerging from light yellow.”

After that, he met Gu Can. He saw an invigorating scene of the Jianghu on Qingxia Island. Thereafter, the dew began to gradually thicken and congeal. In Shujian Lake, the nights grew cold and long, the wind and smoke bleak, and the water mist pervasive. Chen Ping’an made a trip to Yunlou City, using the father and daughter to travel to the border pass of the Shihao Kingdom, looking at the line and seeing a different scenery, “Frost-covered grass, chirping insects, north and south of the village, all paths deserted.”

Returning to Qingxia Island, winter quietly arrived, “The water begins to freeze, the land begins to harden, the pheasant enters the great water and transforms into a mirage.”
While traversing the numerous islands, meticulously studying the historical changes and local customs of Shujian Lake, Chen Ping’an dedicated a half-day to observing the “pheasant entering the lake and transforming into a mirage” on Jinzhi Island. However, such sights were rare, depending solely on luck, similar to his encounter with the golden carp back in his youth. Unable to invest too much time in such uncertainties, he departed with a slight sense of regret.

After all, one cannot simply stifle themselves; they must find ways to alleviate their sorrows.

Hoping to witness the pheasant entering the water was one such way, as was inquiring about the stories of Hong Su, the gatekeeper at the Zhuxian Manor on Qingxia Island.

Since arriving on Qingxia Island, Chen Ping’an had rarely indulged in alcohol, only taking a sip or two occasionally to refresh his mind.

As the year drew to a close, the cold wind rustled through the withered branches, and the birds flew swiftly.

Just as Chen Ping’an was settling into a routine of quiet study while Gongliu Island continued its boisterous clamor, anticipating the day when the willows would turn a pale yellow and the water would show the first hints of green, something unexpected happened.

One day, the noise from Gongliu Island ceased. Gu Can, accompanied by the Little Loach, returned to the mountain gate and sought out Chen Ping’an, who was immersed in studying a secret technique imparted by Wei Bo. They announced that a decision had been reached. The loudest voices of opposition, the island lords of Qingzhong, Tianmu, and Lisu islands, had previously proposed that Qingxia Island and the opposing faction each send three or five representatives to compete, with the winner recommending a candidate for the position of Lord of the Jianghu. However, just as Qingxia Island was about to agree, the old island lord of Qingzhong Island and a chief enshrinement of Tianmu Island, two of the strongest earth immortals most likely to compete, vanished overnight, leaving no trace.

The situation changed dramatically. The island lord of Lisu Island, struggling to maintain order, personally visited Liu Zhimao on Gongliu Island. After a private discussion, it seemed an agreement was reached.

Liu Zhimao ascended to the throne of the Lord of the Jianghu with remarkable ease. Even with Tian Hujun, his disciple, and other powerful cultivators from more than ten tributary islands, had prepared for a bloody battle, where anyone could die. However, everyone knew that Liu Zhimao and Gu Can were not in that number, and there were not many complaints. Although there may have been some resentment, but the momentum was irresistible.

It was estimated that the True Lord of Intercepting River could be laughing in his sleep.

Upon hearing this news, Chen Ping’an did not feel relieved.

He could deduce some things: Lisu Island was likely a pawn of the Song clan of Dali, and the crippling of Qingzhong and Tianmu islands was the secret work of Cui Chan, the national preceptor.

However, there were things Chen Ping’an could not fathom. For example, whether the Zhu Ying Dynasty had a backup plan. If so, who would it be? Would their thunderous strike to reverse the situation be aimed at Liu Zhimao, Gu Can, and the Little Loach? Or would they simply retreat, recognizing the difficulty? The Zhu Ying Dynasty, with its borders ablaze with conflict, might be too preoccupied to care about Shujian Lake, a strategically unimportant piece of land.

Perhaps even his presence on Qingxia Island was part of that Embroidered Tiger’s calculations, making the most of every advantage?

Chen Ping’an merely advised Gu Can to avoid going out easily during this time, lest they face a desperate counterattack from the Zhu Ying Dynasty.

Gu Can nodded with a smile, saying he had considered it. Liu Zhimao had also warned him not to be arrogant and that he should not attend any banquets, regardless of who hosted them. He only needed to wait two or three months, and then he could even urinate at the ancestral halls of Qingzhong and Tianmu islands without anyone daring to interfere. Liu Zhimao was being especially cautious, even delaying the celebration of his ascension to the throne until the spring of the following year, fearing that the opening of Qingxia Island’s mountain and river array would attract a mixed crowd, and a surprise attack at that time could cripple Qingxia Island.

Chen Ping’an and Gu Can sat side by side on small bamboo chairs, chatting for a while.

In the depths of winter, birds were scarce on the lake, only a few scattered here and there.

It should be snowing soon.

After Gu Can left, Chen Ping’an went to the ferry and pondered in silence.

That very evening,

Chen Ping’an suddenly looked up from his desk and strode to the window.

Outside Qingxia Island, an old cultivator hovered in the air, sneering, “My name is Liu Laocheng. I’m here to meet Gu Can. Everyone else, get lost! Otherwise, anyone who tries to collect your corpses will die too, until there’s no one left to bury you.”

Before his words could settle, the old cultivator flicked his sleeve, and golden talismans flew in arcs, forming a vast circle, as if strangling Qingxia Island.