The Northern Yan Kingdom, with its flat terrain, saw its new emperor diligently striving for governance after his ascension. Possessing two excellent horse-breeding grounds, its cavalry’s combat prowess far surpassed the Jingnan and Wuling Kingdoms. Further north lay the Green Oriole Kingdom, historically rich in tales of immortals, its scholars and writers often weaving legends of water sprites and flood dragons.

Suijing Cheng, wearing a veiled hat and a bamboo-woven robe over her clothes, felt little discomfort from the scorching sun despite the midsummer heat, thanks to the magical garment. Instead, she focused on caring for her horse.

That day, the two riders halted their steeds under the shade of a riverside tree. The river water was clear, and no one was around. She removed her veiled hat and boots and socks, and as her feet plunged into the water, she exhaled a long breath.

The senior sat not far away, taking out a jade bamboo folding fan. He didn’t use it to fan a breeze, but simply opened it and lightly swayed it. Upon it were characters, like duckweed floating in a stream. She had seen it once before. The senior said they were celestial characters peeled off from a floating treasure ship belonging to a mountain estate named Spring Dew Garden.

Suijing Cheng was actually worried about the senior’s injuries. His left shoulder had been directly pierced by a strong arrow shot by a cultivator, and he had been entangled by a talisman formation. Suijing Cheng couldn’t imagine how the senior seemed so unaffected. He had been merely gently rubbing his right hand throughout the journey.

Suijing Cheng turned her head and asked, “Senior, were those assassins sent by Master Cao Fu and Golden Scale Palace?”

Chen Pingan nodded. “It can only be said that they are the most likely. Those assassins have distinct characteristics. They are from a well-known cultivation sect in the southern region of Northern Ju Continent. Although it is called a sect, it has no mountain base other than the name ‘Deer-Slaughtering Mountain’. All assassins are called ‘Faceless Ones’. Cultivators from the Three Teachings, Nine Streams, and Hundred Schools can join, but I hear there are many rules. How to join, how to kill, how much to charge, all have rules.”

Chen Pingan smiled. “Deer-Slaughtering Mountain also has a biggest rule: once they accept money and dispatch an assassin, they only kill once. If they fail, they only take half the deposit. No matter how heavy the casualties, they will not ask the employer for the remaining half. Moreover, after that, Deer-Slaughtering Mountain will never attack the person they failed to assassinate. So now, at least, we don’t have to worry about Deer-Slaughtering Mountain’s harassment.”

Suijing Cheng sighed, feeling somewhat saddened and guilty. “In the end, they were coming for me.”

Although the senior appeared calm and carefree along the way, Suijing Cheng was perceptive and knew that the assassination attempt was not easy for the senior to deal with.

Chen Pingan closed the fan and said slowly, “On the path of cultivation, blessings and misfortunes are intertwined. Most Qi refiners persevere like this. The hardships may be big or small, but the magnitude of suffering varies from person to person. I once saw a couple of lower five-realm mountain daoists. The female cultivator was unable to break through her bottleneck because of a few hundred snowflakes, and if she delayed further, it would turn from good to bad, and her life would be in danger. The two had to venture into the southern Bone Beach at the risk of their lives to seek wealth. The mental torment they experienced along the way, would you say it wasn’t suffering? It was, and it was not small. It was no easier than your journey through the pavilion.”

Suijing Cheng smiled. “Senior, did you happen to encounter them and help them?”

Chen Pingan said nothing.

Suijing Cheng knew the answer.

Chen Pingan pointed at Suijing Cheng with the folding fan.

Suijing Cheng smiled knowingly, sat cross-legged, closed her eyes, calmed her mind, and began to breathe and exhale, practicing the incantations and immortal arts recorded in the *Supreme Profound Collection*.

When cultivators breathe, there will be subtle ripples of energy around them, keeping mosquitoes and flies away, and they can resist cold and heat on their own.

Although Suijing Cheng has not yet achieved cultivation, she already has a rudimentary form of aura, which is rare. Just like when Chen Pingan practiced the Shaking Mountain Fist in the small town, although the stance was not yet stable, the fist intent flowed throughout his body, unbeknownst to himself, and he was seen through by the Dao Protector of Ma Kuxuan in Zhenwu Mountain at a glance. So it is said that Suijing Cheng’s aptitude is truly good, but I don’t know why the wandering master gave the three treasures and then disappeared without a trace for more than thirty years. This year is obviously a great tribulation on Suijing Cheng’s cultivation path. Logically speaking, even if the master is tens of thousands of miles away, he should still have some mysterious sense of it in the dark.

Regarding the master’s appearance, it is even more strange, similar to that small book. Suijing Cheng can look at it but cannot read it, otherwise her aura will be disordered and her head will be dizzy.

In recent years, Suijing Cheng asked the old people in the mansion, but they all said they didn’t remember clearly. Even the old servant Sui Xinyu, who could memorize everything he read since childhood, was no exception.

Chen Pingan knew that this was no ordinary mountain concealment technique.

When Suijing Cheng opened her eyes, half an hour had passed. Her body was flowing with rosy light, and the bamboo robe also had spiritual energy overflowing, the two kinds of light complementing each other, like water and fire blending. However, ordinary people could only see a blur, but Chen Pingan could see more. When Suijing Cheng stopped the flow of energy, the strange phenomenon on her body disappeared instantly. Obviously, the bamboo robe was carefully selected by the master, allowing Suijing Cheng to practice the immortal arts recorded in the small book with twice the result with half the effort.

The aura is high and far-reaching, bright and upright.

Therefore, Chen Pingan was more inclined to believe that the master had no malicious intentions towards Suijing Cheng.

However, he still needs to take it one step at a time, after all, on the path of cultivation, ten thousand precautions may be ruined by one carelessness.

Not only did the two not deliberately hide their tracks, but they also kept leaving clues, just like in the small town sweeping the mountain village. If they kept walking to the Green Oriole Kingdom like this and the master still didn’t show up, Chen Pingan would only be able to put Suijing Cheng on the immortal ferry and go to the Bone Beach to join the Hemp-Clothed Sect, and then go to the Ox Horn Mountain Ferry in Treasure Bottle Continent, according to Suijing Cheng’s own wishes, to register with Cui Dongshan and cultivate with Cui Dongshan. He believes that if there is a real connection in the future, Suijing Cheng will naturally meet the master again and renew the master-disciple relationship.

When they arrive at the Green Oriole Kingdom ferry designated by Senior Wang Dun, the piece of news Chen Pingan wants to know most at the moment is the movement of the Jade Seal River Dragon in the Dazhuan capital.

Has the Sword Immortal Ji Yue of Ape Cry Mountain already fought with the tenth-realm martial artist?

Suijing Cheng put on her socks and boots, stood up, and looked up at the sky. It was still scorching sun and sweltering heat before, but now it was already overcast with dark clouds, with signs of a heavy rain.

Chen Pingan had already taken the lead in walking towards the place where the horses were tied, reminding, “Continue on the road, it will rain in at most an incense stick of time, you can put on the raincoat directly.”
Cheng trotted over, smiling, and asked, “Senior, can you foresee celestial phenomena? Earlier at the rest pavilion, you accurately predicted the rain’s end. My father says only the Grand Astrologer of the Five Peaks Kingdom possesses such abilities.”

Chen Ping’an adjusted his bamboo hat, donned his rain cape, and mounted his horse. He then said, “Want to learn this divine power?”

Sui Jingcheng nodded eagerly. “Of course!”

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “Go work the fields for a dozen years. Scrape a living from the heavens, and you’ll naturally learn to read the signs.”

Sui Jingcheng was speechless.

Chen Ping’an had only given half the answer. The other half was due to his being a martial artist, enabling him to clearly perceive subtle changes in the world. The rustle of wind through leaves, the buzz of mosquitoes, the splash of dragonflies on water – all were significant events to Chen Ping’an’s ears and eyes. Explaining this to Sui Jingcheng, a cultivator, would be futile.

As foretold, a torrential downpour arrived.

The two figures proceeded slowly, without deliberately seeking shelter. Sui Jingcheng, who had previously never complained about the sun, wind, or rain on their northward journey, soon realized that this too was a form of cultivation. If she could find a suitable breathing rhythm while jostling on horseback, she could maintain clear vision even in the heavy rain. In the sweltering heat, she could even occasionally see the subtle currents of “water” hidden within the misty air. Senior Chen said that was the spiritual Qi of the heavens and earth. So, Sui Jingcheng often weaved back and forth while riding, attempting to catch those fleeting flows of Qi. Of course, she couldn’t grasp them, but her bamboo robe could absorb some.

The heavy rain did not last long, arriving and departing quickly.

The two riders removed their rain capes and continued on their way.

Before the night curfew, they stopped at a city bordering a winding river. A Water God Temple upstream was not the only reason to visit. More importantly, the mountains and waters complemented each other; the river was named the Murky River, and the mountain was named E’e Mountain. The temples of the Mountain and Water Gods were situated close to each other, less than three *li* apart. Senior Chen said this was an extremely rare sight that one must see. Sui Jingcheng had never quite understood why Senior Chen was so fond of visiting famous historical sites, but fearing there might be hidden secrets, she kept her questions to herself.

In the markets of Northern Yan, cricket fighting was a popular pastime.

Many commoners would venture into the wilds overnight to catch crickets and sell them for money. Countless poems and songs about crickets circulated in Northern Yan, often criticizing current events and containing veiled satire. However, the worries of scholars and officials throughout the ages were resolved only with poetry and prose. The opulent courtyards of dignitaries and the cramped doorways of commoners alike indulged in the pastime, with the chirping of crickets echoing throughout the kingdom.

Therefore, when the two riders entered the city earlier, far more people were leaving than entering, each carrying various cricket cages, a rather curious sight.

The inn was quite large, said to be converted from a decommissioned relay station. The current owner was a scion of a powerful family in the capital, who had purchased it at a low price and renovated it with considerable expense. As a result, the business flourished, and many walls still bore calligraphy from men of letters, with lush bamboo groves and ponds in the back.

At night, Chen Ping’an left his room and strolled along a path by the willow-lined pond. As he returned to his room to practice boxing, Sui Jingcheng, wearing a veiled hat, stood on the path. Chen Ping’an said, “It’s fine. You can walk alone.”

Sui Jingcheng nodded and, after taking a walk, returned to her room.

Chen Ping’an continued practicing the Six Step Stance, circulating the Sword Qi Eighteen Pauses, but still failed to break through the final bottleneck.

Occasionally, Chen Ping’an wondered if his sword training aptitude was really that bad.

Back in Sword Qi Great Wall, the young geniuses seemed to quickly grasp the essence of the Sword Qi Eighteen Pauses.

However, Chen Ping’an also had reasons to comfort himself. The Eighteen Pauses passed through key acupoints where three “extremely small Sword Qis” resided, causing significant obstruction. The final bottleneck lay in being blocked at one of these points, where the Qi flow would stagnate each time it passed through.

Stopping his stance practice, Chen Ping’an began to draw talismans. The talisman paper was the most ordinary yellow paper, but compared to the wandering Daoists of the lower five realms who could only use gold and silver powder as “ink,” Chen Ping’an had purchased a great deal of mountain cinnabar from Old Acacia Street in Spring Dew Garden. He had many bottles and jars, mostly costing two or three Snowflake coins per bottle, with the most expensive large porcelain jar costing one Minor Heat coin. Along the way, Chen Ping’an had spent nearly three hundred various talismans. The ambush in the valley proved that sometimes, quantity was the key.

Sui Jingcheng had good luck, finding two manuals on the array master. One was a Talisman Diagram Spectrum, and the other was a Fragmented Array True Understanding, and a record of insight and notes from the array master, documenting all the lessons and techniques from which the array master had created the talismans. Chen Ping’an valued this record of insight the most.

Of course, there was also a divine armor of decent quality found on the robust man, as well as a large bow and all the talisman arrows.

Adding to that were the two talisman knives of the female assassin, inscribed with “Morning Dew” and “Evening Glow” respectively.

Unfortunately, there were no immortal coins, not even a Snowflake coin.

This sudden battle was the closest encounter to the atmosphere of the ambush in Lotus Flower Blessed Land.

It had left Chen Ping’an severely injured, but also greatly benefited him.

Once, when Chen Ping’an and Sui Jingcheng were idly replaying the battle on a chessboard, Sui Jingcheng curiously asked, “Senior, were you originally left-handed?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “I always was. But after I started practicing boxing and left my hometown, I always pretended not to be.”

The leader of the Deer Cutter Mountain assassins, that river sword cultivator, had quietly watched the battle to ensure there were no accidents. That was why he repeatedly checked the distribution of the Northern Yan cavalry corpses on the ground. Coupled with the fact that Chen Ping’an had stabbed the Northern Yan cavalry general with his right hand, he was certain that he had seen the truth. This had led the Deer Cutter Mountain assassin, who held a trump card, to use a Buddhist divine ability to restrain Chen Ping’an’s right hand. The power of this secret technique, and the extent of its aftereffects, were evident from the fact that Chen Ping’an was still affected by it.

Chen Ping’an had no idea that mountain cultivators had such strange secret arts.

So, it seemed that Chen Ping’an had stumbled upon it, and luck had caused the opponent to miscalculate.

In fact, this was Chen Ping’an’s way of navigating the world, as if he were always surrounded by an ambush.

Sui Jingcheng couldn’t help but ask, “Senior, aren’t you tired?”
Chen Ping’an smiled, “It becomes second nature with practice. As I mentioned before, explaining complex principles seems taxing initially, but once you become proficient, it becomes much easier. When you throw a punch or wield a sword, you’ll increasingly approach a state of unbound freedom, a realm where the heavens themselves acknowledge and resonate with the Great Dao, and it’s not just about how much destructive power your fist or sword has.”

At that time, Sui Jingcheng certainly couldn’t comprehend the elegance of “unbound freedom,” nor could she grasp the profound meaning of “resonating with the Great Dao.”

The next day, the two rode past two adjacent mountain and water shrines before continuing their journey.

They were not far from the Green Oriole Kingdom, located on the eastern shores of the Northern Ju Luzhou.

Riding slowly, Chen Ping’an mused, “The universe is a grand kiln, fueled by the sun’s burning charcoal, melting and forging all creation, and none can escape this process.”

Sui Jingcheng, feeling somewhat drowsy, immediately perked up upon hearing the words of her senior, “Senior, is this a saying of the immortals? Does it have a deeper meaning?”

Chen Ping’an chuckled and shook his head, “It’s something my closest friend heard from the old master who taught us to fire pottery. We were young then, and just thought it was a funny saying. The old man on my side never said such things, in fact, he almost never spoke to me. Even when we went deep into the mountains to find suitable soil for firing porcelain, spending ten or fifteen days there, we might only exchange two or three sentences.”

Sui Jingcheng was astonished, “Does your sect also make porcelain? Are there immortal abodes like that on the mountain?”

Chen Ping’an couldn’t help but smile, nodding, “Yes, there are.”

Sui Jingcheng cautiously inquired, “In that case, doesn’t that mean your close friend has a higher aptitude for cultivation?”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “Hard to say about cultivation aptitude, but as for porcelain-making skills, I’ll never catch up to him in this lifetime. He can learn something with a few glances, while I might need to fumble around for a month or two, and still be inferior to him.”

Sui Jingcheng then asked, “Senior, isn’t it stressful to be friends with someone like that?”

Chen Ping’an responded with a smile.

The two riders passed through the border between the Northern Yan and Green Oriole Kingdoms, leaving only about two hundred *li* to the immortal ferry crossing.

The ferry crossing was named Dragon’s Head Ferry, the private territory of the Valley Rain Sect, a top-tier immortal sect in the Green Oriole Kingdom. Legend had it that the Valley Rain Sect’s founding patriarch had once played a game of chess with the Green Oriole Kingdom’s founding emperor, “losing” a mountain peak due to his superior chess skills.

The sect had no connection to the “Valley Rain Coin” among the immortal currencies. However, this immortal sect produced two items, “Valley Rain Calligraphy” and “Valley Rain Talismans,” which were popular among the populace. The former was sold to wealthy families in the mortal dynasties, divided into calligraphy and painting forms, and possessed the rudimentary effects of immortal talismans. Compared to the door gods pasted by ordinary households, they were better at protecting the family, dispelling ghosts and baleful auras. As for the Valley Rain Talismans, they were worn around the waist, of a higher grade, and were essential items for all *qi* refiners of low cultivation levels in the surrounding areas of the Green Oriole Kingdom when going up the mountains and down the rivers. They were expensive, and the ministers and nobles of the Green Oriole Kingdom each possessed one. Even during court assemblies, the Green Oriole Kingdom did not prohibit officials from wearing them, and the emperor often bestowed them upon meritorious officials.

Dragon’s Head Ferry was a large ferry crossing, originating from the territories of more than ten countries, including the Great Zhuan Dynasty in the south. There were few *qi* refiners there. Apart from the small ferry crossings within the Great Zhuan Dynasty and at the Golden Scale Palace, there were no other immortal ferry crossings. As the easternmost hub of the Northern Ju Luzhou, the Green Oriole Kingdom, although not large in territory, was very familiar with the mountain cultivators. This was a stark contrast to the Great Zhuan and its surrounding nations, where warriors held sway and immortals yielded, a vastly different custom.

The two sold their horses to a large local escort agency in the prefecture city.

Walking on foot, Chen Ping’an handed the walking staff to Sui Jingcheng.

Chen Ping’an’s attire had become increasingly simple, consisting of a bamboo hat and blue shirt. He had even put away his hairpin and no longer carried his bamboo box. The sword gourd and sword immortal were also put away.

Sui Jingcheng’s words were also becoming fewer.

The two walked along a surging river that flowed into the sea. The river was several *li* wide, but it was not the famous great river that flowed into the sea. Legend had it that the river was so vast that many people in the Green Oriole Kingdom would never have the chance to reach the other side in their lifetime.

The river breeze caressed their faces, dispelling all heat.

Sui Jingcheng asked, “Senior, if that reclusive master doesn’t appear, I hope I can still become your disciple, starting as a probationary disciple. When Senior feels I am qualified, you can remove the word ‘probationary.’ As for whether that Senior Cui is willing to impart immortal techniques to me, willing to guide me, I won’t force it. Anyway, I’ve cultivated alone for thirty years, so I don’t mind waiting until Senior returns from your travels.”

Chen Ping’an turned to look at the surging river and smiled, “You’ll regret not becoming his disciple, I can guarantee it.”

Sui Jingcheng shook her head, resolutely, “I won’t!”

Chen Ping’an said, “Let’s assume your mentor never appears. Then, the person I’m having you acknowledge as a master is a true immortal, in cultivation, temperament, and vision, whatever you want, he will be much stronger than me.”

Of course, no matter how high his cultivation was, that fellow was still his disciple.

Chen Ping’an hadn’t felt anything before, mostly regarding it as a burden. Looking back now, it was actually quite… satisfying?

Sui Jingcheng’s tone was firm, “Does such a person exist in this world? I don’t believe it!”

Chen Ping’an said, “Believe it or not, seeing is believing. When you meet him, you will understand.”

Sui Jingcheng, wearing a veiled hat and holding a walking staff, was doubtful, but she felt a bit depressed. Even if that Senior Cui was truly a divine immortal, so what?

Sui Jingcheng knew how much time cultivation consumed. Could the several decades, or even hundreds of years, of an immortal’s life truly compare to the experiences of a *jianghu* person? Would there be so many stories? Once one reached the mountain, entered a cave abode, and retreated into seclusion for years or decades at a time, then descended the mountain for trials, emphasizing not being tainted by the mortal world, walking through life alone, and returning to the mountain without any burdens, was such immortal longevity truly carefree? Moreover, it wasn’t as if a *qi* refiner’s pure cultivation meant they wouldn’t encounter calamities on the path to immortality. Death and dissipation were still possible, there were countless obstacles, and bottlenecks were hard to break through. The mountain scenery that ordinary people could not appreciate, no matter how magnificent and extraordinary, would it truly not become boring after seeing it for decades or hundreds of years?
Sui Jingcheng felt somewhat agitated.

Chen Pingan stopped, picked up a few pebbles, and casually tossed them into the river.

Sui Jingcheng faced the river, the wind blowing the veil of her bamboo hat against her face, her dress billowing to one side.

The road along the river was bustling with people, mostly cultivators traveling to and from Dragon Head Ferry.

A burly man on horseback passed by, his eyes lighting up. He abruptly reined in his horse, beat his chest forcefully, and roared with laughter, “Hey there, lass! How about coming with this lord for some fine food and drink! That pale-faced boy beside you looks utterly useless.”

Sui Jingcheng remained silent, as if she hadn’t heard him.

The man leapt from his horse, landing beside Sui Jingcheng, his hand reaching out lewdly towards her rounded posterior.

Before he could succeed, the hulking man was plunged into the river.

Chen Pingan had pressed down on the man’s head, pushing him lightly, causing him to fall heavily into the river.

The splash from the small pebble was surprisingly large.

The man thrashed about in the water, howling as he swam upstream. Then, he whistled, and his mount galloped away, showing no intention of avenging its master.

Sui Jingcheng was extremely nervous. “Is this another assassin testing me?”

Chen Pingan shook his head. “Nothing of the sort. Just a lecherous rogue who couldn’t control himself.”

Sui Jingcheng looked aggrieved. “Senior, even walking by the roadside, I encounter such scoundrels. If I board a celestial ferry, surrounded by fellow cultivators, what if some harbor malicious intent and you are not there to protect me? What am I to do?”

Chen Pingan said, “I told you before, I will make arrangements for you once we reach Dragon Head Ferry.”

Sui Jingcheng’s eyes were filled with sorrow. “But there are so many unforeseen circumstances and accidents on the path of cultivation.”

Chen Pingan said nothing more, simply continuing his journey.

Sui Jingcheng caught up with him, walking side by side. She said, “Senior, is this celestial ferry similar to the ordinary boats we see on the river?”

Chen Pingan nodded. “More or less. If you encounter a celestial gale, it will be like a regular boat, with some rocking and rolling, but nothing too serious. Even if you encounter some thunderstorms, the ferry will pass through safely. Just think of it as enjoying the scenery. The ferry travels through the sea of clouds, and the scenery is quite spectacular. You might even see celestial cranes following along, and when passing by some immortal sects, you can see the mystical landscapes contained within their protective arrays.”

Sui Jingcheng smiled. “Senior, rest assured, I will take good care of myself.”

Chen Pingan slowly said, “The great dao is like unpolished jade, and each carving, each refinement, will undoubtedly be painful. But each time you endure the pain, and overcome it, that is what it means to have achieved progress in cultivation. This is just as important as your gradual cultivation of immortal techniques. Otherwise, you’ll be walking with a limp and easily fall down the mountain. The world emphasizes power over reason, and people cultivate strength but neglect the mind. Many, many people can be content with that, reaching a balance with the world, allowing them to live peacefully. Whether it is right or wrong, you should observe and contemplate it. Good people have their faults, and evil people have their reasons. Just remember one thing: always consult your own heart. This is a rough explanation of a principle that I learned from someone I once wanted to kill.”

Sui Jingcheng nodded. “I will remember it.”

As Chen Pingan walked, he pointed to two directions ahead on the road. “The strangeness of the world lies in this: when you and I meet, the path of cultivation I point out will deviate from anyone else’s guidance. For example, if that half-mentor who gifted you three opportunities in your early years were to personally guide you…”

“Ultimately, you would become two Sui Jingchengs. The more choices there are, the more Sui Jingchengs there will be.”

Chen Pingan pointed to one side and then to another. “Right now, neither I, the observer, nor you, Sui Jingcheng, truly knows which Sui Jingcheng will achieve greater success or live longer. But do you know what your true heart is? Because that is something that can be known in every moment.”

Chen Pingan walked ten steps along one of the paths, then stopped and pointed to the other path. “Along the way, whether you suffer or enjoy blessings, as long as your steps are firm, then at some critical juncture, especially after suffering great hardship, you will inevitably doubt yourself, look around at the other possibilities you have abandoned in life, and ponder them carefully. The answer you arrive at at that time is your true heart. How you should proceed from there is to ask your heart.”

“But I tell you, at that moment, there will be an illusion. We will all subconsciously want to do one thing, which is to persuade ourselves with the principles we are most familiar with. That is a very easy thing to do. Because as long as a person hasn’t died and has managed to reach any point on the road of life, everyone will have something commendable. The difficulty lies in keeping the true heart unchanged while changing the principles.”

Sui Jingcheng timidly asked, “If a person’s true heart is inclined towards evil, wouldn’t persisting in it only make the world worse? Especially if this kind of person can learn from their mistakes each time, wouldn’t they become increasingly terrible?”

Chen Pingan nodded. “Of course. So I will only say these words to myself and those around me. There is no need to say them to ordinary people, and for some, fists and swords are enough.”

Sui Jingcheng was speechless with astonishment.

After a long silence, the two walked slowly. Sui Jingcheng asked, “What should we do?”

Chen Pingan’s expression was calm. “That is a problem for the Confucian Academies and the Sages of the Hundred Schools to consider.”

“The many principles of the Three Religions and the Hundred Schools are like a great rain falling upon the world. At different times and in different places, it may be a welcome rain after a long drought, but it may also be a flood.”

“All we can do is to constantly and continuously let our hearts be like flowers and trees, growing towards the sun.”

A young man in Confucian robes, who had just passed by the two on the road, stopped, turned around, and smiled. “Sir, I find your theory to be correct, but not entirely so.”

Chen Pingan stopped and turned his head, smiling. “How so?”

Sui Jingcheng felt like she was facing a formidable enemy and quickly stood behind Chen Pingan.

The young man smiled. “In the streets and alleys, there are also great principles. As long as an ordinary person practices these principles throughout their life, they will not bow their head when they encounter Sages, Immortals, or True Buddhas.”

Chen Pingan asked, “If a fist comes down, causing a black eye and a swollen face, will the principles still be there? Will they still be useful? Isn’t the greatest fist the greatest principle, the most natural thing in the world?”
The young man chuckled, “Principles aren’t just food, nor are they merely shields against fists. Suffering exists in the world, that’s undeniable, but have peaceful people ever been absent? Why do so many without great power still live in tranquility? Why do cultivators seek absolute freedom on the mountains, while the mundane dynasties below still exist in relative stability?”

Chen Ping’an inquired with a smile, “Then how do you explain the fact that those with immense power need not speak of reason, and countless weaklings simply follow in their wake? If we deny this as a principle, does it mean that reason will forever be in the hands of a few powerful individuals?”

The young man shook his head. “That’s just an illusion. You clearly have the answer in your heart, sir, so why this query?”

Chen Ping’an smiled faintly.

The young man stated, “I am Qi Jinglong. My ancestral hall records me as Liu Jinglong, but regarding my family and lineage, I won’t elaborate further.”

Sui Jingcheng was utterly bewildered.

Because she had never heard the name “Liu Jinglong” before.

Chen Ping’an proposed, “Shall we walk and talk then?”

Qi Jinglong smiled and kept pace with the two, continuing their journey along the river.

Chen Ping’an said, “Regarding this ‘illusion,’ I hope Mr. Qi… Mr. Liu can enlighten me. Even if I have my own answer, I hope that Mr. Liu’s perspective can corroborate and align with it.”

Qi Jinglong nodded. “Rather than power being principle, it’s more about the order of precedence. Power is merely the latter; a crucial truth lies hidden before it.”

Chen Ping’an narrowed his eyes, but remained silent.

Qi Jinglong continued earnestly, “What is truly powerful is… rules, regulations. Knowing them, and being able to utilize them. Is an emperor powerful? Yet, why do kingdoms fall and lands crumble? Why do some ministers and generals end well, while others meet tragic ends? Are immortal cultivators of renowned sects, heirs of wealthy clans, and noble scions considered powerful? Once you extend the timeline and observe the founding emperors of dynasties, those who established sects, the first ancestors in clan genealogies… how did they achieve their achievements? Because these beings are not truly powerful, but merely rose with the tides of rules and fortune, and were destroyed by violating those same rules. Like ephemeral flowers, they lack longevity, like cultivators unable to attain true immortality.”

Subsequently, Qi Jinglong elaborated on his own insights to these two strangers he had just met.

First, truly understand the rules, the power and complexity of the rules, the more the better, and also… the various loopholes beneath the framework.

Second, abide by the rules, or rather, rely on the rules.

For example, blindly loyal subjects, and ambitious warlords eager to seize power.

Third, create your own rules, or, of course, you can also break the rules.

Fourth, maintain the rules.

Peddlers and hawkers, emperors and generals, wild cultivators and sect immortals, ghosts and demons, none are exceptions.

During this time, truly powerful rules will shelter countless weaklings. Of course, these rules are complex, jointly crafted by the mountains and the mortal world, the court and the martial world, the marketplace and the countryside.

Therefore, emperors must examine themselves with the saying “water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it,” cultivators in the mountains must fear the unforeseen, usurping generals must worry about their illegitimate claims to the throne, martial artists must tirelessly pursue reputation and acclaim, and merchants must seek a golden signboard. Thus, Nascent Soul cultivators seek harmony with the Dao, Immortal Realm cultivators seek truth, and Ascended Realm cultivators seek the endorsement of the heavens and earth, seeking agreement from the sages of the three teachings, hoping they do not perceive conflict with their doctrines, but rather make way for them to continue their ascent.

Sui Jingcheng was bewildered, not daring to interrupt, clutching her walking staff tightly, her palms drenched in sweat.

She only stole a glance at the green-robed, bamboo-hat-wearing senior beside her, who remained composed.

Chen Ping’an inquired, “Regarding the tenets of the Three Teachings, does Mr. Liu have any insights?”

Qi Jinglong responded, “A few, but they are still shallow. Buddhism seeks non-attachment, striving for everyone to lay down their butcher knives. Why the distinction between Hinayana and Mahayana? It lies in the fact that the world is not ideal; self-salvation is far from enough; one must save others. Daoism seeks purity; if everyone in the world could be pure, without desires or wants, naturally there would be a peaceful and prosperous world for all eternity. Unfortunately, the Dao Ancestor’s Dao is too lofty; it is truly good, but alas, as the people’s wisdom dawns yet remains incomplete, clever people engage in cunning, becoming more and more numerous, and the Dao becomes hollow. Buddhism is boundless, almost capable of covering the sea of suffering, but the monks who transmit the Dharma may not necessarily obtain the true Dharma; Daoists see no outsiders; even if chickens and dogs ascend to heaven, how many can they take with them? Only Confucianism is the most difficult; the principles in the books are intertwined, though they generally resemble a large tree providing shade, allowing people to rest beneath it, yet if one truly looks up, it seems to be in constant conflict, easily causing one to feel lost in the clouds.”

Chen Ping’an nodded and asked, “If I remember correctly, Mr. Liu is not a Confucian disciple. Then, on your path of cultivation, are you pursuing ‘all the world’s laws cannot bind me’ or ‘doing as one pleases without overstepping the boundaries’?”

Qi Jinglong smiled. “The former is difficult to achieve, for one, and I myself am not particularly willing, so it is the latter. You once said ‘the heart remains unchanged, but the principles change,’ which resonated deeply with me. People change, the world changes, even the mountains, which we describe as ‘immovable as a mountain,’ are actually changing. Therefore, your saying, ‘doing as one pleases without overstepping the boundaries,’ has always been the sage realm highly praised by Confucianism. But ultimately, it is still a limited freedom. In contrast, many cultivators in the mountains, especially those closer to the summit, are tirelessly pursuing absolute freedom. Not that I think these people are all evil. It’s not that simple. In fact, those who can truly achieve absolute freedom are the truly powerful.”

Qi Jinglong remarked with emotion, “These powerful individuals who enjoy absolute freedom, without exception, all possess extremely resilient minds and extremely formidable cultivations; in other words, their cultivation and strength have reached the extreme.”

After obtaining his answer, Chen Ping’an posed a question he was unable to ask Sui Jingcheng earlier, “If the world is a rickety table and chair with loosening rules, and cultivators are no longer within the circle of the table and chair, what should be done?”

Qi Jinglong responded without hesitation, “First, lend a hand to steady it. If one is willing and able, then one can carefully… drive in a nail or two, or squat beside it, mending and patching.”

Qi Jinglong spoke with feeling, gazing at the river flowing into the sea, sighing, “Immortality is certainly a remarkable thing, but is it truly an interesting thing? I think not necessarily.”

It’s not just good people who speak of reason.
In truth, evildoers also understand principles, perhaps even more profoundly.

The Lord of Azure Ripple Lake, to avoid war and preserve his life, stirred the clouds and seas, threatening to flood his domain.

Chen Pingan, wary of harming the innocent, had no choice but to relent.

This was the Lord’s reasoning. Chen Pingan had to heed it.

Sui Jingcheng, during the incident at the rest pavilion, gambled that Chen Pingan would persistently follow them.

This, too, was Sui Jingcheng expounding her logic.

Chen Pingan listened all the same.

Within the pavilion, both the elderly Minister Sui Xinyu and Yang Yuan, the Flood Dragon of Hun River, despite their vastly different identities, instinctively uttered phrases of similar meaning.

Sui Xinyu said, “This is Wuling territory,” reminding the Jianghu brigands not to act recklessly, seeking the unseen protection of order and propriety.

This order implied the dignity of the Wuling Emperor and his court, Jianghu honor, and even subtly invoked the fist of Wang Dun, Wuling’s foremost figure.

Within the borders of the Golden Canopy Kingdom, around the small town atop Soaring Peak Mountain, Chen Pingan twice stood aside, refraining from interference. A Sword Immortal silently observed this, implicitly acknowledging Chen Pingan’s reasoning, and thus Chen Pingan survived both times.

Previously, in Following Carriage City, a golden-bodied deity from the Temple of the Fire God, knowing it was futile, still chose to sacrifice himself to aid Chen Pingan, even in the slightest. This was because Chen Pingan’s actions were deemed righteous by the Fire God Temple, adhering to its precepts.

Was Du Mao of the Tung Leaf Sect powerful? Yet, when he wished to leave Tung Leaf Continent, he still needed to abide by the rules, or rather, exploit loopholes, to reach the Treasure Bottle Continent.

Was Hu Xinfeng, a Jianghu figure from Wuling, weak? Yet, even in his dying breath, he spoke of the rule against harming families. Why? Because it was an established Wuling custom, safeguarding countless innocents year after year. Why did every sharp-edged newcomer in the Jianghu face countless setbacks, paying a heavy price even if they ultimately carved a bloody path? Because it was the silent retribution of the established order against their strength. And those fortunate enough to ascend would sooner or later become elders, maintaining the status quo, conservative veterans of the Jianghu.

Ahead lay a riverside gazebo.

Chen Pingan stopped and clasped his fist in salute, “Thank you, Master Liu, for dispelling my doubts.”

Qi Jinglong smiled, “I also thank Master Chen for acknowledging my words.”

Chen Pingan shook his head, his eyes clear and sincere, “Many things, as I perceive them, are ultimately not as clear as Master Liu explains.”

Qi Jinglong waved his hand, “How one thinks and how one acts are still two different matters.”

Chen Pingan hesitated for a moment, tentatively asking, “May I invite you for a drink?”

Qi Jinglong pondered, then reluctantly shook his head, “I never drink.”

Chen Pingan felt slightly awkward.

Sui Jingcheng found this scene, compared to their lofty and profound discussions, far more amusing.

Chen Pingan seized the man’s arm, “It’s alright, just one drink, and then you’ll be free from all restraint.”

Qi Jinglong demurred, “Forget it, forget it. If I really must, Master Chen can drink, and I will have tea.”

The three arrived at the gazebo, jutting out over the great river.

They sat facing each other on a long bench, a river breeze blowing. Sui Jingcheng, staff in hand, stood outside the gazebo.

Qi Jinglong explained, “I have a friend, Lu Zhuo, a disciple of the venerable Wang Dun of the Sweeping Dust Manor. He sent me a letter, saying that I might have an interesting conversation with you, so I came to try my luck.”

Chen Pingan removed his bamboo hat and placed it aside, nodding. “How did you and that female Daoist end up fighting on砥礪 Mountain? I think you two should be kindred spirits, even if you don’t become friends. How could you have a life-or-death battle?”

Qi Jinglong chuckled, “A misunderstanding. She encountered a group of rogue cultivators causing trouble, wanting to kill them all. I thought some didn’t deserve to die, so I intervened, and then there was this duel on砥礪 Mountain. It was a small matter, but neither of us wanted to back down, and it inexplicably developed into the beginnings of a conflict of principles. It was unavoidable.”

Qi Jinglong asked, “What, is she a friend of yours, Master Chen?”

Chen Pingan nodded, “We once trained together in a blessed land.”

Qi Jinglong joked, “Master Chen won’t stand up for your friend and beat me up, will you?”

Chen Pingan smiled and shook his head. “Who says friends must always agree?”

Even the highly respected senior Song Yushao, back in the dilapidated temple, would use the excuse, “If I slay a hundred mountain spirits, even if I wrongly accuse one, it’s still worth it rather than letting it cause more harm,” wanting to slay that fox spirit with a single sword strike.

Chen Pingan intervened at the time, even blocking a sword from Senior Song.

As for Gu Can of the Scroll Stream Lake, there was even less to say.

Many principles bring inner peace, but many more weigh heavily on one’s steps.

Outside the gazebo, there were signs of rain again, a misty haze over the river.

Qi Jinglong said he wouldn’t drink, only tea, but it was merely an excuse, as he possessed neither spatial artifacts nor miniature realms. Thus, each time he descended the mountain, he only had his natal flying sword.

Seeing that he was unwilling to drink, Chen Pingan assumed he hadn’t persuaded him well enough and didn’t force the issue.

Qi Jinglong gazed at the river, smiling. “A fine drizzle arrives, dense clouds difficult to clear.”

Chen Pingan drank, turning his head to look. “The sun will always shine after the rain.”

Qi Jinglong nodded, but looked up, “But I fear a change in the weather.”

Chen Pingan smiled, “This small gazebo has two, or perhaps three including the one outside, and even then, the world is vast. What is there to fear?”

Qi Jinglong sat up straight, placing his hands lightly on his knees, his eyes suddenly shining. He reached out, “Bring the wine!”

Chen Pingan tossed him a flagon of wine, and sat cross-legged.