The Kingdom of Jingnan was crisscrossed with rivers, and the two riders continued their journey day and night.

However, traveling from Jingnan to the Northern Yan Kingdom was proving difficult. Not long ago, a series of skirmishes had broken out along the border. The Northern Yan had initiated hostilities, sending light cavalry units, ranging from a few hundred to a thousand riders, to raid across the border. Jingnan’s northern defenses had few cavalry forces capable of meeting them in open battle, forcing them to retreat and defend their cities. Consequently, all border checkpoints were closed, making any martial artist traveling through a target.

Despite the risks, the two riders decided to take a mountain path across the border.

Recalling the infiltration of the Kingdom of Wu Ling’s scouts into Jingnan, Sui Jingcheng felt a glimmer of understanding.

That evening, as they rode up a hillside, they saw a village built along the river, engulfed in flames.

Just as Sui Jingcheng expected the elder to observe for a moment before detouring, the rider charged down the slope, heading straight for the village. Sui Jingcheng, stunned, spurred his horse to follow.

Upon entering the village, they found a scene resembling a living hell. Corpses lay scattered everywhere, victims of brutal slaughter. Most of the women were partially unclothed. Many young men had been impaled through their limbs with spears, bleeding to death as they desperately crawled, leaving trails of blood. There were also severed limbs and dismembered bodies, and the children had suffered particularly gruesome fates.

Sui Jingcheng dismounted and began to retch violently.

Chen Pingan closed his eyes, listening intently. After a moment, he said, “No survivors.”

Sui Jingcheng didn’t register the words, feeling as though he was about to vomit up his very bile.

Chen Pingan knelt down, picked up a handful of blood-soaked earth, gently kneaded it, and then tossed it aside. He stood up, surveyed the surroundings, and then leapt onto a rooftop. He examined the footprints and hoofprints, widening his gaze into the distance. Finally, he dropped back to the ground, removed his Sword Nourishing Gourd, and handed it to Sui Jingcheng, along with the reins of his horse. “We’re going after them. We can catch up. Remember to protect yourself. Staying here alone isn’t safe. Try to keep up with me. When your horse tires, switch mounts.”

Chen Pingan darted away.

Sui Jingcheng mounted his horse, fighting off the nausea, and galloped after him.

Fortunately, the man in green wasn’t pushing himself to the limit, taking into account the stamina of Sui Jingcheng’s mount.

About half an hour later, they heard the sound of hooves near a shallow stream in a mountain valley.

The elder’s pace didn’t slow. “We’ve almost caught up. From now on, don’t worry about overworking your horse, just keep up with me. Try not to fall more than two hundred paces behind. But be careful; no one knows what might happen.”

Sui Jingcheng leaped onto another horse, the Sword Nourishing Gourd belonging to the elder hanging from his waist, and charged forward.

Border cavalry had strict rules about cleaning their horses’ nostrils and feeding them grain.

This light cavalry unit must have stopped in the valley for a short rest, and had only recently set off again.

Some of the rearguard riders turned their heads and saw the fleeting figure in green, an ethereal presence with obscured features. Stunned at first, they then roared, “Enemy attack!”

The figure in green arrived in an instant, like a wisp of smoke. The dozen or so well-trained cavalrymen had barely managed to turn their horses and were just about to draw their bows and crossbows when the standard-issue sabers at the riders’ waists were unsheathed with a clang. In a flash, two heads flew into the air, and two headless bodies fell from their horses.

The figure in green didn’t land, but instead weaved and danced across the horses, wielding blades in both hands.

In the blink of an eye, twenty-odd riders were cut down, each with a single strike, either bisected at the waist or cleaved in two from head to toe.

The Northern Yan cavalry scattered, discarding their bows and crossbows for sabers. Some began to retrieve armor from their saddlebags, donning it.

A cavalryman who appeared to be an officer charged forward, wielding a long spear that he thrust at the figure in green. The latter had just used a single stroke to pierce the neck of a nearby rider and was already recoiling to strike down another rider behind him. The spear had anticipated his movement perfectly.

Sui Jingcheng was about to shout a warning but quickly stopped himself.

The next moment, Sui Jingcheng saw the figure in green somehow twist in the air, stepping forward into the void, and directly collide with the spear, allowing the spearhead to pierce his chest. Then, with a surge forward, the cavalry officer roared. Though his palms were already a bloody mess, he refused to let go. However, the spear continued to slide through his hands, the violent friction undoubtedly exposing bone. Sensing danger, the officer finally decided to abandon his ancestral spear. But in an instant, the figure in green had bent down and stood atop the horse’s head. The next moment, a saber pierced his neck, instantly penetrating it.

The figure rose abruptly, the saber in his right hand impaling the officer’s neck. Furthermore, the hand holding the saber lifted high, carrying the officer’s entire body off the horse.

Aboard the warhorse, nearly the entire blade of the Northern Yan border cavalry’s standard-issue saber had pierced the officer’s neck, leaving a long, gleaming edge exposed. The strike was so swift that it hadn’t even drawn blood.

Chen Pingan suddenly retracted his saber, and the officer’s corpse tumbled off the horse, hitting the ground.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, the Northern Yan cavalry launched a volley of arrows and crossbow bolts.

Chen Pingan held sabers in both hands, his green robes shaking, and all the arrows shattered in mid-air.

The warhorse beneath his feet instantly collapsed to its knees, its legs broken. The figure in green moved almost imperceptibly, only two dazzling flashes of blade light visible, like the chaotic, ever-present flames of the village, yet death was everywhere.

Two hundred elite Northern Yan cavalrymen; two hundred incomplete corpses.

Chen Pingan stood atop a warhorse, tossed the two sabers to the ground, and surveyed the surroundings. “You’ve been following us all this time, and finally found an opportunity. Aren’t you going to show yourselves?”

In the knee-deep water of the stream, a head emerged, covered by a snow-white mask. Ripples spread through the water, and a figure in black robes stood there, a smiling voice seeping from the edges of the mask. “What exquisite swordsmanship.”

At the same time, several assassins in black robes and white masks descended from the cliffs.

One, a woman with a graceful figure, held a powder box in one hand, making a delicate gesture as she applied powder to her fair neck.

Another kept both hands hidden in his wide sleeves.

Another squatted beside the cavalry officer’s corpse, two fingers pressed against the head’s brow.

Another was powerfully built, like a small mountain, carrying a massive bow on his back.
The lone figure in black robes, standing serenely on the water’s surface, smiled and said, “Let’s get to work and earn our coin, quick and clean. Wouldn’t want to delay this Sword Immortal’s journey to the Yellow Springs.”

The assassin, dabbing rouge on her neck, replied with a coquettish voice, “Understood, understood.”

She tucked away the rouge compact into her sleeve, and with a flick of her wrists, conjured two dazzling short blades, etched with densely packed, ancient runes.

As she slowly surged forward, two identical women appeared to her left and right, followed by two more, seemingly without end.

A hundred or so women wielding short blades, an overwhelming tide, swarmed towards the young man in the azure robe from all directions.

However, only one broke away from the main fray, lightly skimming the water, constantly shifting trajectory, rushing towards Sui Jingcheng seated on horseback. But a wisp of sword light from the gourd at his waist pierced her head, and with a soft pop, the woman’s body dissolved into a puff of azure mist.

The true battlefield.

One woman after another was shattered by fists, turning into ethereal smoke.

But each woman, each short blade, was incredibly sharp, far from a mere illusion. Furthermore, the women seemed to be walking arsenals, launching concealed weapons from every part of their being, making them almost impossible to defend against.

If the man hadn’t been a Golden Body Realm martial artist with thick skin and bones, an ordinary Sixth Realm martial artist would have died dozens of times over by this single tactic alone.

Such was the nature of immortal arts. Even if she were only a Sea Gazing Realm strategist cultivator, she could overwhelm a martial artist with sheer numbers, a natural counter.

In the vast world, wonders abound, and nothing is absolute.

The azure-robed figure abruptly vanished, appearing before a woman at the edge of the battlefield, his fist piercing her heart.

All the women abruptly froze. She smiled ruefully, “How did you know I was the true one? The rouge compact wasn’t even in my sleeve…”

Chen Ping’an frowned.

The next moment, the woman giggled endlessly, dissolving into a puff of blue smoke. All the women followed suit, ultimately coalescing into a single point, a thick billowing cloud. From it, a woman leisurely emerged, one hand behind her back, rubbing her chest, and laughed, “You found the right one, that’s true. But alas, as long as you can’t kill us all in one fell swoop, I won’t die. Does that frustrate you, Sword Immortal?”

The woman gestured with her hand behind her back.

The black-robed man on the water nodded. The woman’s body exploded into a large cloud of blue smoke, and countless women once again lunged towards the azure-robed figure.

After a single fist.

Chen Ping’an stood where the woman had been, almost all the women shattered by the domineering fist-罡 of a cavalry charge.

Only one remained, blood constantly seeping from the seams of her snow-white mask. She raised a finger, pressing heavily against the mask.

A diminutive assassin crouching on the ground nodded, standing up. “It’s done. Relying on you was useless, almost ruined everything.”

The masked woman was clearly seriously injured. “If I hadn’t stalled him in every possible way, could you have completed the rune array?!”

From the gourd at Sui Jingcheng’s waist, Flying Sword Fifteen shot out.

The sword light aimed directly at the diminutive array master’s temple.

The diminutive assassin, who had been concealing his hands in his sleeves all along, had already produced a golden talisman while speaking with the masked assassin, smiling faintly. “Since we know you’re a Sword Immortal, did you think we’d be unprepared?”

As he raised two fingers, the talisman hovering beside him, awaiting the sword’s self-immolation.

But Flying Sword Fifteen abruptly arced away, returning to the gourd.

A streak of white light shot forth from between Chen Ping’an’s eyebrows.

The sword light flashed.

Unexpectedly, the assassin raised another talisman in his other hand. Flying Sword Initial One seemed to sink into the mud, disappearing into the talisman in a flash.

The golden talisman hovered before the diminutive assassin, trembling slightly. The assassin smiled, “Thankfully, I prepared an invaluable Sword-Binding Talisman. Otherwise, I really would have kicked the bucket. How are you such a schemer, Sword Immortal? Sword Immortals are already the mountain’s darlings of lethality, yet you’re still so deeply calculating. How are we Qi Refiners supposed to survive? That makes me very angry.”

In truth, after Flying Sword Initial One was trapped by the Sword-Binding Talisman, a radiant rune array appeared within a fifteen-foot radius of Chen Ping’an, intersecting lines like a chessboard, constantly shrinking. But the brilliance of those lines grew ever more exaggerated, like immortals had extracted the purest essence of the sun and moon.

The diminutive assassin, an array master from the mountains, twitched the corner of his mouth.

This array had two wonderful effects: first, it stagnated the flow of a cultivator’s spiritual energy; second, whether the trapped person was a strategist cultivator with an armored pill or a Refining God Realm pure martial artist, no matter how tough their physique, they would be stuck by those crisscrossing lines, their souls entangled endlessly. This torment was no mere pain of the flesh; it was akin to ordinary mortals or common cultivators suffering the agony of soul-lighting.

The array master cursed a few times, then pulled out a stack of yellow paper talismans, hovering them near the golden Sword-Binding Talisman, spiritual light connecting them, seemingly forming another small talisman array.

The situation was set.

The black-robed figure in the snow-white mask, standing on the water’s surface, glanced at the distribution of corpses on the battlefield, then began to replay the earlier attacks in his mind.

There was a small matter that needed confirmation.

It seemed the operation was nearing its close.

In normal circumstances, encountering such a fiercely combative Golden Core Sword Immortal, they would only meet an early or late death if caught unprepared. If one or two managed to escape, it would be out of the opponent’s mercy.

But in the battles between mountain cultivators, realm and magical treasures were of utmost importance, but they were not the absolute determinant. And the strength of the world was never a simple matter of one plus one.

He nodded towards the assassin who had been gathering souls.

The assassin stood up and began to pace and incantate, silently chanting.

The azure-robed Sword Immortal trapped in the rune array staggered, his shoulder lurching. Chen Ping’an had to exert all his strength to barely raise his right hand, looking down at his palm, where distorted black threads had spread across his meridians.

It was as if his entire arm had been imprisoned.

Chen Ping’an clenched his fist and shook it, but still could not dislodge the dark veins.

At the same time, the burly assassin drew back his massive bow, pulling it into a full moon.

The black-robed figure on the river smiled. “Having entered the temple, why must one hold incense with the left hand? Because the right hand’s karmic burden of killing is too heavy, unsuitable for worshiping Buddha. This unique skill is not easily seen by ordinary cultivators. If we weren’t afraid of the slightest chance of failure, we should have used this Buddhist divine power to target you from the very beginning.”

An arrow, radiant and flowing with light, pierced through the air.
Gripped by that man’s left hand, the force was immense. The swordsman in azure robes had to turn his head to evade the arrow’s tip, his left fist erupting with qi, snapping the arrow and sending it plummeting to the ground.

Beneath him, the shrinking chessboard finally coalesced into countless slender rays of light, like living things scaling the walls, instantly enveloping the azure-robed figure like a net of law.

The burly warrior continued to draw his bow and fire relentlessly. After six arrows, all were swatted away by the swordsman, while the black-robed figure on the river remained motionless, a streak of sword light shooting forth.

That man reached out, his left palm somehow seizing the swift, lethal flying sword.

Even a flying sword from a swordsman bottlenecked at the Dragon Gate Realm was still a flying sword, not to mention that its sharpness rivaled that of an ordinary Golden Core swordsman.

While the man focused on blocking and imprisoning the flying sword, he was still struck in the left shoulder by an arrow, which pierced through with undiminished momentum. This showed the power of such a celestial arrow and the archer’s extraordinary strength.

With his right hand already bound by a supernatural power, his left shoulder severely wounded, and his spirit trembling from the surrounding array, the azure-robed swordsman was utterly without a means of retaliation.

Sui Jingcheng, her face awash with tears, frantically patted the sword-nurturing gourd, crying out, “Hurry and save your master! Even if it’s just a try!”

But the sword-nurturing gourd at her waist remained silent.

It wasn’t that Sui Jingcheng was afraid to die, or unwilling to charge forward. It was that she knew that going would only add to the senior’s danger.

She began to hate her own cold, calculating mind.

Biting her lip, Sui Jingcheng spurred her horse onward, pulling out three golden hairpins. *I might as well die first,* she thought. *Perhaps that way, he won’t have to divide his attention, and it won’t hinder him from killing the enemies and escaping.*

Chen Ping’an, covered in blood and his spirit tormented, flicked his left hand, discarding the flying sword he could barely contain. He smiled and said, “Is that all? No trump cards left?”

The assassin who had used Buddhist power to bind the azure-robed swordsman’s right hand said in a low voice, “Something’s not right! How can anyone remain unfazed after suffering this much torment?”

Chen Ping’an allowed the array of talismans to cover his body, his right arm hanging limp.

He took a step, disappearing from his spot.

*First, kill the array master.*

This was something Mao Xiaodong had repeatedly emphasized after the perilous battle in the Great Sui capital.

The diminutive man naturally understood his own importance.

He burrowed underground.

The black-robed figure’s flying sword and the archer’s flying sword and arrow shot towards the ground in front of the array master at almost the same time.

But the azure-robed figure did not appear there. Instead, he shifted five or six steps, his left hand seizing the woman’s neck, lifting her into the air. The woman died instantly, her soul shattered by the torrent of qi.

Tossing the corpse toward the second arrow, Chen Ping’an stomped his foot, causing the earth to tremble.

With a muffled groan, the array master burst out of the ground, appearing behind the burly warrior. Chen Ping’an casually waved his hand, shattering the talisman of detained sword and the other yellow paper talismans.

Then, he disappeared again.

A fist pierced through the chest of the burly man, who wore a breastplate of sweet dew armor beneath his black robes.

His left hand, protruding through the chest and back, precisely gripped the array master’s face, causing the latter’s head to explode.

The black-robed figure on the river sighed, sheathing his flying sword and swiftly disappearing into the water.

Only the Qi Practitioner, who could imprison a cultivator’s arm based on the amount of karma, remained, his body collapsing. His soul turned into wisps of green smoke, scattering in all directions.

Flying Swords, Initial and Fifteenth, emerged together, quickly shredding the wisps of smoke.

Chen Ping’an’s right arm still hung limp, his shoulder slightly swaying. He staggered, yet still reached the stream in a few steps, standing where the black-robed figure had vanished. A Sword Immortal appeared in his hand, and he stabbed down.

The entire stream erupted, sending countless droplets of water flying.

But near the mountaintop, a figure clung to the cliff face, suddenly leaping up and transforming into a rainbow, flying away.

Chen Ping’an released his hand, and the Sword Immortal drew a long, golden line as it shot away.

Moreover, Chen Ping’an surveyed his surroundings, narrowing his eyes.

Flying Swords, Initial and Fifteenth, returned to Chen Ping’an’s qi ocean from their respective acupoints.

Finally, Chen Ping’an’s gaze landed on a stone cliff across the stream, and he slowly walked towards it. “Did you really think I was a three-year-old child? You shouldn’t have used your flying sword, or you might have actually escaped.”

The white-masked, black-robed figure shot out of the stone wall.

The two exchanged flying swords.

Chen Ping’an protected his chest with his left hand, clamping the flying sword between his fingers. The opponent’s sword tip was just a hair’s breadth away from his heart.

Meanwhile, the Initial and Fifteenth had already pierced through the opponent’s forehead and chest.

The flying sword held between Chen Ping’an’s fingers instantly dimmed, losing all its sword qi and spirit.

Then, he swiftly threw it out.

The black-robed figure, knowing death was inevitable despite a sliver of remaining life force, chose to commit suicide, shattering all his key qi oceans and leaving no trace behind.

Chen Ping’an retreated, drifting across the stream and standing on the bank. He retrieved his two flying swords and shattered the chaotic ripples of qi with a punch.

The Sword Immortal returned.

Chen Ping’an grasped it in his left hand, using it as a crutch. He took a deep breath and turned his head to spit out a mouthful of blood.

Sui Jingcheng spurred her horse forward, then dismounted.

Chen Ping’an turned his head and said, “I’m fine.”

Sui Jingcheng blinked her eyes. Chen Ping’an smiled and said, “They have no backup.”

Only then did tears well up in Sui Jingcheng’s eyes as she looked at the blood-soaked swordsman in azure robes. She choked out, “Didn’t you say that the battlefield has its rules, and the pugilistic world has its rules? Why did you have to meddle? If you hadn’t meddled, this battle wouldn’t have happened…”

Chen Ping’an squatted by the water’s edge, using his left hand to scoop up a handful of water and wash his face. The Sword Immortal stood beside him. He gazed at the stream, now calm again, flowing gently, and said indifferently, “Why do I tell you complex principles? It’s for the sake of simple punches and sword strikes.”

Sui Jingcheng squatted beside him, holding her face in her hands, softly sobbing.

Chen Ping’an said, “You’re in luck. Search the corpses of those assassins and the surrounding area and see if there are any celestial treasures to pick up.”

Sui Jingcheng smiled through her tears, wiping her face, and got up to search for spoils of war.

About an incense stick later, the two riders left the valley along the same path, heading towards the village.

Chen Ping’an’s body swayed slightly, and the arm had slightly regained sensation.

Sui Jingcheng’s complexion had improved, and she asked, “Senior, what are we going back for?”

Chen Ping’an said, “To ensure those people die with dignity.”

Sui Jingcheng nodded vigorously.
Then, Sui Jingcheng felt a pang of guilt.

Chen Ping’an slowly said, “There’s no need for that. Human strength has its limits. Just like your father standing by with folded arms in the rest station, the action itself isn’t wrong. No bystander should be overly critical. However, for some, reflecting on the matter after the fact can make all the difference. Sui Jingcheng, I believe you can have a clear conscience. Remember, when faced with calamity, everyone has moments of helplessness. If you manage to survive, don’t dwell too much on the guilt afterward, or your state of mind will eventually crumble.”

Sui Jingcheng hesitated for a moment before turning her head to look. “Senior, although I’ve gained something, I’ve suffered such severe injuries. Will you not regret it?”

Chen Ping’an raised his left hand and pointed behind him. “You should ask them that question.”

Sui Jingcheng didn’t follow the Qing Shan sword immortal’s gesture. Instead, she turned to look at him, gazing at him intently.

Over in the village.

From dusk to deep night, and then to the break of dawn.

Two riders slowly departed, continuing their journey north.

Sui Jingcheng remained silent for a long time. When she saw the senior take a drink from his gourd, she finally asked, “Senior, why are you willing to teach me so much along the way?”

Chen Ping’an’s answer seemed unrelated. “What do you think of the old senior Wang Dun from the Sweeping Dust Manor? What kind of person is he?”

Sui Jingcheng replied, “He’s a good person.”

Chen Ping’an asked again, “What about the disciples that Senior Wang Dun has taught? What do you think of them?”

Sui Jingcheng answered, “Although I’m not familiar with their true natures, they all seem decent enough.”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “Have you ever considered that with Wang Dun, it’s not just the Sweeping Dust Manor gaining another manor lord? How much of an impact has Wang Dun had on the Jianghu of Wu Ling, and even the entire Wu Ling Kingdom?”

Chen Ping’an continued, “So I want to see, in the future, when the Sui Clan of Wu Ling gains a cultivator, even if she doesn’t often stay within the clan, but if she replaces the old vice minister Sui Xinyu, or the next nominal head of the family, and she is always the true backbone of the Sui Clan, will the Sui Clan then cultivate a family tradition truly worthy of the word ‘upright’?”

Sui Jingcheng looked at him.

Chen Ping’an said to himself, “I think there’s hope.”

Finally, Chen Ping’an smiled. “I have Falling Phoenix Mountain, and you have the Sui Clan. A person should not be arrogant, but neither should they be self-deprecating. It’s difficult for us to change the world all at once. But we are constantly changing the world.”

Sui Jingcheng gave a soft “Mm.”

After a moment, Chen Ping’an turned his head, looking somewhat puzzled.

Sui Jingcheng was at a loss. “Senior, what’s wrong?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head and secured his gourd. “When you desperately wanted to die just now, of course that was fine, but I have to tell you something rather uninteresting. Willing to live miserably, living for others, will only make you feel continuously uncomfortable. It’s a remarkable thing, but not everyone can understand it, and you mustn’t let that lack of understanding become a burden.”

Sui Jingcheng suddenly flushed and asked loudly, “Senior, can I like you?!”

Chen Ping’an remained composed, his heart as still as water. “Like me? That’s your business. Anyway, I won’t like you.”

Sui Jingcheng felt a sense of relief and smiled. “That’s okay!”

Chen Ping’an seemed to recall something pleasant, his smile radiant. Without turning his head, he gave Sui Jingcheng, who was riding alongside him, a thumbs-up. “You have good taste.”

On the northern journey.

“Senior, stop drinking. You’re bleeding again.”

“It’s fine, it’s called the demeanor of an expert.”

“Senior, why don’t you like me? Am I not pretty enough? Or is my temperament bad?”

“It has nothing to do with whether you’re good or not. Every good girl deserves to be liked by a good man. You only like him, and he only likes you. That’s how it should be. Of course, you’re not young anymore, not a girl.”

“Senior!”

“I’ll teach you one last lesson that Senior Wang Dun taught me: You must be able to listen to flowery words of praise, and you must also be able to listen to harsh truths.”

The sound of hooves echoed.

As they journeyed, the old locust tree from their hometown was gone.

As they journeyed, the beloved girl was still far away.

As they journeyed, every year in the spring breeze the flowers bloomed on the Long Ridge, but the most respected teacher was no longer there.

As they journeyed, the most admired swordsman had not been seen for a long time. They wondered if he still wore his bamboo hat, and if he had found a good sword.

As they journeyed, their closest friends, they wondered if they had seen the highest mountains and the largest rivers.

As they journeyed, the snot-nosed kid who used to be bullied had become the person they used to hate the most.

As they journeyed, they had not worn straw sandals on their feet for many years.

A Wang Dun disciple named Lu Zhuo from the Sweeping Dust Manor sent out a letter.

This letter was then forwarded by the recipient, using the celestial method of flying sword transmission, to a mountain person surnamed Qi.

Lu Zhuo and that person had met by chance in the Jianghu and regarded each other as confidants. But in reality, that friend was a true darling of the heavens. In contrast, Lu Zhuo’s martial arts talent was very ordinary. Not to mention the cultivators on the mountains, even compared to his fellow disciples Fu Loutai, Wang Jingshan, and the junior sister and junior brother, Lu Zhuo was the least talented. Therefore, Lu Zhuo felt that his final position in the Sweeping Dust Manor would be to replace the aging head steward, at least helping his senior brother Wang Jingshan share some trivial matters.

Lu Zhuo liked the Sweeping Dust Manor, and he liked the lively atmosphere and the harmonious relationships.

His master and fellow disciples took good care of him. He felt that he didn’t have much ability to take care of them, so he would take care of the people he could, such as the elderly, children, and women on the estate.

Lu Zhuo usually liked to watch Wang Jingshan impart swordsmanship to the junior brother with meticulous care.

The junior sister was always upset that she was a bit dark and not pretty enough. What’s more, her saber skills seemed to be always so far from the senior sister. She wondered if she would ever catch up in her lifetime. Lu Zhuo didn’t know how to comfort her, but was willing to listen to her say those trivial worries.

His master, who hadn’t walked the Jianghu for several years, had left the manor again.

Lu Zhuo wondered what kind of Jianghu stories his master would bring back this time.

Wang Dun quietly left, but took a trip to a place outside the Jianghu and found his eldest disciple, Fu Loutai.

It was in a small prefecture city some distance from the manor, and he had a drink with that mediocre man.
Disciple Fu Loutai had learned some culinary skills and personally stir-fried three dishes as snacks to go with wine. The taste was truly terrible. The peanuts were too salty, the lotus root slices too bland; a bit of adjustment would have been nice. However, seeing the look in his disciple’s eyes and the young man’s smile, Wang Dun didn’t say anything. After all, the wine was passable, though it was his own stash. The manor did have a few jars of Plum Wine hidden away.

That man wasn’t much of a conversationalist, only drinking and not uttering a single flattering word. When Wang Dun chatted about the affairs of the manor, the man would proactively offer a toast at the end of each topic. Wang Dun would indulge him.

Fu Loutai sat quietly to the side.

A flagon of wine, no matter how slowly two grown men drank it, couldn’t last long.

Wang Dun finally said, “Drinking with you is no less enjoyable than drinking with that Sword Immortal. If there’s a chance in the future for that Sword Immortal to visit Spreading Dew Manor, I’ll be sure to detain him for a while and invite you and Loutai along.”

The man seemed anxious and quickly put down his cup and chopsticks. “Absolutely not, absolutely not. We wouldn’t be able to talk. I wouldn’t be able to utter a single word at the same table as that Sword Immortal.”

Wang Dun laughed, “You’ll get along. Trust me. After chatting, I doubt any of the little whelps at the manor will dare to look down on you.”

The man, his face flushed red, hesitated. “Loutai following me was already a great sacrifice. Her fellow disciples are not too happy, which is understandable. Besides, it’s already good enough. In the end, they just want the best for her. Understanding that, I’m not really unhappy, and I’m actually quite pleased. It’s a good thing that so many people care about my wife.”

Wang Dun picked up the wine jug and poured a few drops into his cup, gesturing to Fu Loutai not to fetch new wine. He said to the young man, “If you can think like that, then Fu Loutai’s following you isn’t a sacrifice.”

Wang Dun opened his package and took out a jug of wine. “I have no other gifts, so I’ve brought you a jug of good wine. I only have three jugs myself. I drank most of one myself. I hid one in the manor, planning to drink it when I retire from the pugilistic world. This is the last jug.”

Fu Loutai recognized its worth and asked, “Master, is it Immortal brew?”

Wang Dun smiled and nodded, “After sparring with that Sword Immortal, he saw that my martial ethics were even higher than my martial skills, so he gifted me three jugs. There was no way around it, he insisted on giving them to me.”

Fu Loutai chuckled, “Others may not know, but wouldn’t I? Master, you still have some divine coin, it’s not like you can’t afford it.”

Wang Dun shook his head, “It’s different. There aren’t many mountain people with a江湖(jianghu) spirit.” (江湖: jianghu – the martial world, a realm of wandering warriors and hidden societies)

Fu Loutai was straightforward, “Aren’t you just showing off that you drank with a Sword Immortal? If I’m not mistaken, you’re going to share the remaining jug with those old friends in the 江湖(jianghu) after leaving here, while casually mentioning your sparring with the Sword Immortal?”

The man gently tugged at her sleeve. Fu Loutai said, “It’s okay, Master.”

Wang Dun was embarrassed, scolding with a smile, “A married daughter is like spilled water! I’m leaving, I’m leaving, no need to see me off. Visit the manor often when you have time, it’s still home.”

The couple still saw him to the gate. In the twilight, the setting sun lengthened the old man’s silhouette.

The man gently held her hand, feeling guilty. “Being looked down upon by the manor, I still have some resentment in my heart. I told your master a lie earlier.”

She gently held his hand, “It’s okay. I know, and Master probably knows too.”

Du Yu didn’t dare to immediately return to Ghost Axe Palace but wandered the 江湖(jianghu) alone.

Many injustices in the 江湖(jianghu), as well as occasional disputes between mountain cultivators, Du Yu chose to watch with a cold eye. Now, he felt that everyone he met was a deeply hidden master. He hadn’t quite recovered.

He was somewhat annoyed. When could he finally be a righteous hero?

As a result, he once stumbled upon a martial world chase with a huge disparity in strength. A group of notorious underworld bosses were chasing a young man from the righteous path.

Du Yu subdued those greenwood heroes with lightning speed, then carried the young man and ran, running for dozens of miles before dumping the rescued person on the ground and fleeing himself.

Not only was the young man sitting dumbfounded on the ground, stunned, but the disoriented 江湖(jianghu) bandits in the distance were also confused.

Hone Beach’s Hemp-Wearing Sect.

Only one shop remained in Mural City, with its business bleak. However, because it was the only one left, it could barely stay afloat, and some people still came out of curiosity.

Pang Lanxi rarely had free time these days, so she came down the mountain to help out.

Although Pang Lanxi’s cultivation was becoming increasingly demanding, the number of times the two met was actually decreasing compared to previous years.

However, the girl’s eyes were bright, and she had never been so hopeful about the future.

Even when she didn’t see Pang Lanxi, she had fewer worries.

Liu Zhiqing of the Golden Crow Palace sat alone atop a mountain peak.

Only a handful of cultivators, including the Golden Crow Palace Lord, knew that this Junior Uncle had begun secluded cultivation, and it would last for quite some time, so the mountain was closed for the time being.

No one was allowed to climb the mountain.

As for why Liu Zhiqing was in secluded cultivation on the mountain peak, among the few people who knew, no one knew, and no one dared to ask.

An Immortal ferry crossing upstream of Honey Beach’s Shaking Ripple River.

After a wild cultivator couple, who had rarely stayed in an Immortal inn for many days, finally saw the woman, now a cave realm expert, emerge from her room, the man’s eyes filled with tears.

The two entered the room together, and after closing the door, the woman said softly, “We still have so much Snowflake money left.”

The woman wiped away her tears, “I know, after sending us those Ghost Valley White Bones, that Sword Immortal never intended to return to the Naught Gate market to find us. Why?”

The man laughed, “Owe it, keep it. Whether we have the opportunity to meet that benefactor and whether we can repay him in this lifetime is our business. But whether we want to repay him is also our business.”

Under the secret planning of Lord Cangyun Lake, who spent money and effort.

The Fire God Temple in Following Carriage City was rebuilt, and a new painted statue was sculpted.

The incense was flourishing.

As for the City God Temple, it was still not completed, and the imperial court had not yet conferred a new City God.

Inside Following Carriage City.

A pair of youths from a back alley were blocked at both ends of the alley by a group of robust hooligans, holding clubs and approaching with smiles.

One of the taller youths placed his hands on the walls and quickly climbed to the top of the wall.

Another thin youth tried to imitate the first, but he was too slow. Someone grabbed his ankle and slammed him to the ground, raising a cudgel to strike his head.

The frail boy instinctively shielded his head with his arm.

The blow sent him staggering back against the wall.

The taller boy, who had almost escaped, leaped down from a height, leveraging the narrow alley walls with nimble footwork. Landing nimbly, he punched and kicked, felling several thugs, but he was quickly overwhelmed by the mob, sticks and clubs raining down upon him. He still desperately shielded the smaller boy huddled against the wall.

Finally, the burly youth’s head was pinned to the ground. One of the thugs, a sturdy man in his prime, gestured for a white bowl that had been prepared in advance. With a grimace, another quickly placed it on the ground.

“Dare to ruin our good time? This will teach you a lesson!”

The thug tossed a string of copper coins beside the white bowl. “See that? We’ve provided both food and money. Finish what’s in the bowl, and the money is yours. If you eat quickly, you might even earn a sliver of silver. Refuse, and I’ll break your legs.”

The taller boy stubbornly refused.

The skinny youth howled in pain, struck in the back by a club.

The gang of thugs roared with laughter as they swaggered away, not forgetting to snatch up the coins.

The taller boy, bruised and battered, crouched by the wall, retching.

The skinny boy, his face swollen and bruised, sat hugging his knees, weeping quietly.

The taller boy struggled to his feet and sat beside his friend. “It’s okay. One day, we’ll get our revenge.”

The frail boy remained silent for a long time, his sobs subsiding. He stared blankly ahead, then whispered, “I want to become like a Sword Immortal.”

He wiped his tears, avoiding the gaze of his friend. “Is that stupid?”

The taller boy ruffled his hair. “Of course not! What’s wrong with that? Maybe when that Sword Immortal was our age, he was even worse off than us! You always sneak over to the school to listen to the old scholar, right? What was that line I liked so much?”

The skinny youth recited, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way!”

Then he lowered his head and said, “But even if I become powerful, I don’t want to be like those thugs who only know how to bully others.”

The taller boy laughed. “That’s fine. When we both become Sword Immortals, you can specialize in doing good deeds, and I… won’t do bad things, I’ll just specialize in bullying bad guys! Come on, let’s swear an oath!”

The two boys raised their hands and slapped palms together, a resounding crack echoing in the narrow alley.

The taller boy turned to his friend and exhaled a breath. “Does it smell good?”

The skinny boy quickly shoved him away, and they tussled playfully until the pain made them wince. Finally, they both burst into laughter.

They looked up together. The alley was narrow, making the world seem vast and limitless, yet only a single line of light offered a way out.

But that line of light, however faint, was above the two boys, and they had seen it.

In the Kingdom of Shuishui, Song Yushao, in the heat of summer, left his mountain villa and went to a familiar restaurant in town. He sat in his usual spot and ate a steaming hot pot.

The old man chuckled to himself, “Boy, see that? This is the spiciest! I was always catering to your tastes before. You may be stronger in swordsmanship, but when it comes to eating spicy food, I can take on several Chen Ping’an!”

In the Kingdom of Caiyi, a withered old woman lay on her sickbed, her frail hand clasped gently by a woman sitting by her side.

The old woman, her life fading, struggled to open her eyes and murmured, “Master, Mistress, this year’s wine hasn’t been brewed yet… if Young Master Chen comes, he won’t have any wine to drink.”

The woman, her eyes filled with tears, leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I will brew this year’s wine myself.”

The old woman babbled on, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, “And Young Master Chen loves stir-fried winter bamboo shoots with pork. Mistress, remember to give him a large white bowl for the wine, not a wine cup… These trivial matters should have been done by this servant, but I can only trouble you, Mistress. Don’t forget, don’t forget.”

When Cui Dongshan left Guanhai Academy, Zhou Ju knew he was a remarkable person.

Not long after Cui Dongshan’s departure, Guanhai Academy, as well as the Northern Dayi Cliffside Academy, underwent some changes.

From the Sage Headmaster to the Vice Headmasters, all gentlemen and virtuous scholars were required to dedicate a significant portion of their time each year to teaching and lecturing in academies and imperial colleges across various dynasties.

Instead of sages instructing gentlemen, gentlemen teaching virtuous scholars, and virtuous scholars teaching students, the flow of knowledge shifted outwards.

Throughout Dali’s territories, excluding private academies, all academies and rural schools in towns and villages saw their instructors’ salaries increased by the affiliated courts and government offices. The amount of the increase was determined by local conditions. Those who had been teaching for more than twenty years received a lump-sum payment. Thereafter, an additional reward was granted every ten years.

On this day, a carefree youth in white robes finally finished watching a bustling scene from beginning to end. He gracefully descended and landed inside a wealthy mansion devoid of life.

Finally, he sat on the railing alongside a beautiful young maid.

The maid had been implicated by the mistress’s affair and subsequent exposure. She had been killed by a pair of sworn brothers who, acting as heroes, had fought their way to the backyard. She had simply been passing by when she was stabbed with a sharp knife.

The mistress suffered an even worse fate, flayed alive by the enraged master of the house.

At that time, the informer of his sister-in-law with that man…