Chen Ping’an and Nian Xin arrived at a prison cell.

A middle-aged man sat cross-legged, his breathing almost imperceptible. He was emaciated, skin stretched taut over bone, yet a formidable fist intent radiated from him. Wisps and strands of solidified fist intent, like countless tiny dragons, coiled around the mountainous landscape of his body.

A genuine Distant Wanderer realm martial artist.

During the battles before Chen Ping’an came to the Great Wall of Sword Qi, this pure martial artist from the wild lands had slain six sword cultivators with his fists, including one Earth Immortal.

The man opened his eyes and asked, “Come to kill me?”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

The man glanced at the seamstress behind Chen Ping’an, that woman, and said calmly, “Take my head yourself.”

He knew he was no match for that grotesque crone, neither human nor ghost. Her methods were ruthless, and he had suffered greatly at her hands.

Chen Ping’an said, “A martial arts exchange to decide life and death.”

The man sneered, “A pure martial artist from the Great Wall of Sword Qi wants to use me as a whetstone? I fear one punch from me will have you clutching that woman’s waist in pain. Haha, pity the hag isn’t much to look at.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Senior Nian Xin, close the cell door. Open it when one of us is dead.”

Nian Xin closed the gate, and sword light formed into bars. Within the cage were two martial artists.

The man stood up. “Straightforward enough.”

Chen Ping’an clasped his fist in salute. “Vast World, Chen Ping’an.”

The man was slightly taken aback, then clasped his own fist in return. “Wild Lands, Gold Creek City, Hong Yin.”

A Distant Wanderer Realm expert and a Golden Body Realm bottleneck martial artist, they unleashed their fists almost simultaneously.

Within the cage, fist winds surged.

In the blink of an eye, they exchanged more than a dozen blows. Chen Ping’an mostly defused the opponent’s attacks with his fists and feet, defending more than attacking. Eventually, Hong Yin swept him in the waist with a leg. Chen Ping’an’s feet remained rooted to the ground, but he was forced to shift sideways a yard. Hong Yin stamped the ground with one foot, closing in, but Chen Ping’an sidestepped, raised a leg, and pressed his knee into Hong Yin’s abdomen. Changing his force, he directly pressed Hong Yin to the ground with that leg.

Chen Ping’an did not follow up, but instead retreated two steps, placing one hand behind his back and the other in front of him, transforming his fist into an open palm.

His fist posture lowered slightly.

His fist intent slowly rose.

Unharmed, Hong Yin slammed a palm onto the ground, flipped himself up, and asked, “Are you stopping?”

Chen Ping’an said, “I know your background, but you do not know my strengths. Therefore, I allowed you to test me. From now on, I will allow you a hundred blows to test the weight of my fists. After that…”

Hong Yin rotated his wrist, his spine and ribs, along with all the joints in his body, like an upside-down tortoise. Fist energy exploded, and divine intent poured out.

When they had exchanged blows earlier, he had indeed been testing the waters. Now, Hong Yin laughed and said, “If you truly had the confidence to say that, you would have to be in the ninth realm.”

The man had only heard that pure martial artists of the Vast World were all paper tigers due to the limitations of their innate physique.

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “I have not yet reached the Distant Wanderer Realm. However, on the battlefield, I killed Hou Kuimen, though the price was significant, such that I have not yet fully recovered. But I will be frank with you: whether I am injured or not in a fight has never mattered.”

Hong Yin walked slowly, while Chen Ping’an simply stood in place, not even shifting his gaze, letting Hong Yin walk a short, curved path.

As a particularly powerful Distant Wanderer Realm expert, Hong Yin had naturally heard of Hou Kuimen, who dressed extravagantly. Hong Yin had never met him, but had heard that he favored bright red armor, a phoenix-winged purple-gold crown, and extremely long plumes. He was covered in treasures from head to toe. Therefore, Hong Yin looked down on Hou Kuimen. As a pure martial artist, one should be unburdened by external objects, relying only on one’s fists. Like this young man in front of him, barefoot and with rolled-up sleeves, clean and pure.

Hong Yin asked, “Do all duels between martial artists in the Vast World involve declaring intentions before striking? Is there such a strange custom?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “I am merely allowing you to strike more freely before you die.”

After a pause, Chen Ping’an still spoke honestly, “You have not fought in too long. Your fists are rusty, and you are too worried about the woman outside the cage. Your fist intent is far from its peak. What would be the point of me killing you with a few casual blows?”

Hong Yin said nothing more.

In the way of martial artists exchanging blows, the logic of things depended on the weight of one’s fists and the skill of one’s techniques.

For the next hundred blows, Hong Yin struck fiercely, his momentum like a whale swallowing the rainbow, befitting his name.

A knee strike slammed into the young man’s chest, sending the blue-clad young man sliding back a dozen steps. He merely adopted a fist posture without striking, his spine trembling like a dragon’s vein, dissipating all the force.

Hong Yin simultaneously hammered a fist into the other person’s shoulder. Taking advantage of the slight gap in the other person’s form, Hong Yin’s own fist intent surged, and he delivered a close-quarters body blow, nearly knocking the young man into the sword-light bars.

But the other person’s eyes, expression, and even fist intent were almost deathly still, unmoving.

Hong Yin swept his leg at the other person’s neck, spinning the other person around. In the end, the person supported himself with one hand on the ground, head down and feet up, still.

His eyes were closed. His free left hand was forming a sword finger gesture in front of his chest.

In the last few punches of the hundred punches, Hong Yin twisted his body, using his long arms to throw the young man away, who fell heavily, pointing two fingers to the ground. He flipped several times, each time doing this, constantly changing his landing position, just dodging Hong Yin’s pounce, and finally the young man stood steadily, just on the line between Hong Yin and Nian Xin.

The hundred punches had ended, and it wasn’t that Hong Yin didn’t want to decide life and death in an instant, but martial artist’s intuition made him dare not approach the other person casually again.

Hong Yin stopped, greatly surprised, and Nian Xin was also very curious.

Nian Xin, as a Qi cultivator from the Golden Armor Continent, who has wandered for hundreds of years, and is also a seamstress who specializes in finding good “brocade”, is no stranger to the pure martial artists of the Vast World. Even the ninth-level martial artists have had a short and swift fight.

When did a young man in his thirties have such a grandmaster’s demeanor? Moreover, the Distant Wanderer martial artists and the peak mountain masters Nian Xin had seen were mostly aggressive, even if they were restrained, and their fist intent was correct, and they returned to their roots.

After the two sides exchanged punches, Nian Xin discovered some clues, and Chen Ping’an’s choice was even stranger, as if he had changed his mind.

Hong Yin fought very happily, Chen Ping’an was still to the point, only avoiding very little, mainly blocking.
Roughly a quarter of an hour later, Hong Yin suddenly retracted his fists, questioning with a puzzled tone, “I have already exchanged two breaths of martial artist’s true qi. You have been using a single breath to fight me the entire time?”

Chen Ping’an wiped away the bloodstains from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, answering a different question entirely, “I will come to spar with you again in two days.”

Hong Yin shook his head, took a deep breath, and said in a low voice, “Looking down on Hong Yin of Golden Stream City is one thing. A martial artist’s skill is inferior, unworthy of an opponent’s respect. But Chen Ping’an, are you perhaps looking down on martial artists themselves?!”

Chen Ping’an remained silent for a moment before nodding, “Senior is correct.”

Chen Ping’an finally exchanged for a breath of pure true qi. His outward fist form appeared loose and uncoordinated, like that of an ape, yet within was the “Great Dragon,” supported by Zhong Qiu’s “Peak” fist stance. He started directly with the Divine Man Drumming technique.

The martial artist Hong Yin, on the verge of death, had an expression like a hooked fish, suddenly freed.

Same old routine, picking the wick and collecting the body.

However, this time, Chen Ping’an did not watch. He merely sat outside the prison cage, taking a sip of wine.

The many sewing techniques were already thoroughly familiar to him. Instead, Nian Xin casually asked, “How did you cultivate this fist technique?”

Chen Ping’an, with his back to the cage, slowly said, “The person who taught me the fist technique disliked speaking of theory. There were only a few sentences, one of which I have never dared to forget. ‘My fist is in the heavens, with no one before me.'”

Nian Xin nodded, “That martial artist had great ambition.”

After that.

Chen Ping’an went to the next prison cell, which held a demon, a sword cultivator at the Golden Core bottleneck.

This sword cultivator at the Golden Core bottleneck came from a sword sect called the Zheng Rong Sect.

In the Wilderness World, sword cultivators as the foundation of a sect are few and far between, quite different from the Azure World. Not just any Fifth Realm sword immortal can establish a sect in the Wilderness World. Even if the sect banner can be raised, it cannot be sustained. Great demons roam rampant in the Wilderness World, unrestrained, and are most opposed to sword cultivator sects. A slap or a stomp can cripple them. After all, sword immortals and sword cultivators are the most precious, so the great demons do not kill people but only wreak havoc on the mountains and rivers and their protective arrays. Sooner or later, no one can withstand such damage.

Therefore, every sword cultivator sect in the Wilderness World, as long as it survives the first hundred years of its founding, is an extremely powerful force.

According to the Bixie Palace’s secret files, a sword immortal from the Great Wall of Swords once hid in the Zheng Rong Sect. Later, their identity was exposed, and they were tragically besieged and killed. The Zheng Rong Sect used several poisonous secret methods to detain the sword immortal’s soul, forcibly demanding the methods of sword cultivation. In the end, the sword immortal was refined into a puppet with a remnant of intelligence, yet still only able to obey others. They appeared in a siege battle and were killed by Yan Jia’s chief offering, Li Tuimi, with a single sword strike, finding liberation.

In this prison cage, after letting Nian Xin open the door, Chen Ping’an announced his name, only said the words “Seeking Swords,” and then summoned the Cage Bird.

Unexpectedly, that sword cultivator at the Golden Core bottleneck directly knelt on the ground, earnestly vowing to be loyal to Chen Ping’an in exchange for life.

Seeing that the young man was unmoved, this sword cultivator was even more decisive, willing to sacrifice the foundation of their great path and separate their natal flying sword, gifting it to Chen Ping’an, only seeking to continue to eke out an existence in this prison cage.

This direct descendant of the Zheng Rong Sect’s ancestral hall, a sword cultivator whose sword strikes in battle were extremely unpredictable, had a natal flying sword named “Heavenly Music” that possessed two natal divine abilities. Where the flying sword passed, no flying sword was seen, only an extremely subtle sound of mosquitoes and flies. The sound of mosquitoes and flies flapping their wings, if heard near a person’s ear, would still be quite a commotion. But when vibrating violently within a person’s qi storage acupoints, it would naturally be a huge killing force like thunder. Moreover, the flying sword’s sound of thunder naturally contained the true meaning of the Five Thunders. The most difficult thing to defend against was that the enemy needed to listen for the sound to locate the flying sword. But once the sound was heard, the flying sword would even more quickly enter the sword cultivator’s body.

Once the sword qi moved, within the small world of the human body, wind, thunder, clouds, and rain would all arise.

It was precisely because this demon sword cultivator’s flying sword was so contrary to common sense that it was specifically targeted by two sword immortals from the Great Wall of Swords, allowing it to be detained in this prison.

After Chen Ping’an obtained the “Heavenly Music,” he put away the Cage Bird. There were some records about the Zheng Rong Sect’s sword cultivation secrets in the Bixie Palace, but Chen Ping’an asked again, filling in many gaps.

Chen Ping’an exchanged a glance with Nian Xin, and she immediately understood, stepping into the prison.

At the same time, a small and exquisite Yin Spirit separated and traveled far away, holding ten “embroidery needles” that trailed different colored lights.

Learning that their death was certain, the sword cultivator hated deeply, cursing Chen Ping’an endlessly.

Nian Xin was relatively satisfied. When she had previously questioned Hong Yin with her fists, the martial artist Hong Yin had died too willingly, bearing too little resentment towards the young Hidden Official, which was not necessarily a good thing.

Nian Xin’s sewing methods not only involved the three souls and seven spirits but also gathered resentment.

Chen Ping’an stood at the doorway, taking another sip of wine, a small sip, very frugal. He could not wait until he was truly suffering to have no wine to drink.

Nian Xin fiddled with the sword cultivator’s Golden Core, casually saying, “Those in a position should seek its administration. You can’t expect everything to go smoothly.”

Chen Ping’an shook his head, “I have long thought these things through. Killing demons at the Great Wall of Swords, there is no need for a reason. Whether you are a Hidden Official or not, it is the same. What I am unhappy about is simply that my realm is too low. Now, facing any Throne Great Demon, it is death. Not to mention them, confronting a nascent soul realm sword cultivator is extremely difficult. Facing a sword immortal is certain death. Becoming a sword immortal is too difficult.”

Nian Xin smiled, “Being a Fifth Realm sword cultivator at such a young age, I don’t think it’s too difficult.”

Chen Ping’an was speechless.

It was rare for the Seamstress to tell a joke, and it was chillingly cold.

Earlier, Old Deaf asked the Loach Demon for three coins worth of essence blood. When the young Hidden Official did business, he was inhuman.

Old Deaf also asked that Yiluo River junior for a few more pounds of flesh and blood. Anyway, he had taken in a so-called master, a young man who looked like he knew how to cook. With that pot of good wine and a pot of the young Hidden Official’s so-called braised loach with tofu, it was truly a heavenly life.

As for the title of master of a simple and honest youth, would Old Deaf take it seriously? Did he really think that he was a flying ascension realm cultivator who recited Buddhist scriptures?

The great sword immortal acted this way only to give You Yu an opportunity, at most a talisman. If the young man did not have the ability to seize the opportunity, his life or death would be clear as day after a hundred years. If it were Du Shanyin, who was full of cleverness, Old Deaf could already think about how to deal with Du Shanyin after a hundred years. So this is called a fool’s luck. You Yu was too stupid, and Old Deaf was too embarrassed to do anything because it was not interesting.

And You Yu did not take the master-servant relationship seriously, which was the young man’s true path to survival.
Indeed, as the young Hidden Official himself said, reading is always beneficial. Never underestimate a cultivator in the Ascension Realm, lest you treat them as a mere great demon.

You Yu was abruptly seized by Old Deaf’s shoulder and whisked away from the suffocating dungeon. They bypassed several decaying bodies of demon clans and fragmented golden statues of deities. Before the boy’s eyes unfolded a tranquil haven, a place that brought serenity to his heart. A murmuring stream flowed beside a thatched cottage, fronted by a sprawling grape trellis. The verdant canopy stretched across a large area, so dense that it bathed one’s garments in a green hue.

Each breath You Yu took filled him with exhilaration, a mystical sensation akin to spiritual Qi and sword Qi being purified. It felt as if one could bypass the Qi Refining stage altogether. Yet, the more profound the experience, the more cautious the young man became, afraid to inhale deeply. After all, he was a guest, and such casualness would be unseemly.

Old Deaf chuckled, “Just breathe and circulate your Qi freely; a few breaths from you won’t make a difference. A small fish swimming in the river can’t possibly drink it dry.”

Old Deaf halted, “Our master hasn’t returned yet. Let’s wait a moment.”

You Yu nodded vigorously, feeling intensely nervous.

The senior beside him had revealed the Sword Immortal’s identity: a Censor.

An ancient official position, long absent from the Sword Qi Great Wall’s history, on par with the Hidden Official.

Old Deaf didn’t elaborate, only mentioning that the Censor Sword Immortal felt ashamed and unworthy to show his face.

From another direction, two figures strolled along the stream bank: the faceless Sword Immortal and the boy Du Shanyin.

Du Shanyin wore several small silver pouches at his waist, woven with silk threads, revealing glimpses of gold that shimmered like the morning sun.

Old Deaf smiled knowingly, “No wonder.”

In this realm, the corpses of great demons and deities alike steadily decayed, eroded, and crumbled in the invisible river of time. However, the golden bodies of deities sometimes offered surprises, such as piles of gold sand, or even rarer, fragments of the golden bodies. The young Hidden Official, in his previous travels, had been unlucky, finding none. Yet, Du Shanyin, accompanying the Sword Immortal, returned laden with riches.

The Sword Immortal would never actively seek to destroy the corpses of deities; he simply waited for riches to fall from the sky and then stooped to collect them.

Presumably, this journey with Du Shanyin was also to test the boy’s fortune.

Beside the stream, a woman pounded clothes on a bluestone anvil with a mallet. Du Shanyin called out, and she looked up, her features radiant and beautiful beyond description.

Du Shanyin was momentarily captivated. A young maidservant, carrying a bamboo basket, stood beside the woman, her bright eyes filled with laughter at the boy’s enamored state.

The Censor Sword Immortal and Old Deaf nodded to each other.

Old Deaf then led You Yu toward the grape trellis.

Beneath the trellis, at varying heights, hung exquisite porcelain cups, seemingly waiting for grapes to fall into them.

There were multicolored Twelve Flower Goddess wine cups, each painted with a graceful woman and inscribed with a poem appropriate to the month.

Old Deaf chuckled, “In the vast world, besides the twelve female Flower Goddesses, there are also twelve male Flower Gods, all meritorious figures and favored sons of the Hundred Flowers Paradise. They are mostly immortals and literary giants who, through serendipitous encounters, were inspired to write stunning poems for certain flowers that would be remembered throughout history. A’liang once let slip that the creation of these timeless masterpieces wasn’t entirely accidental; the Flower Goddesses played a part, orchestrating enchanting nocturnal trysts under the moonlight, which are truly enviable.”

Young You Yu felt as if he were listening to celestial scriptures.

At the Sword Qi Great Wall, Old Deaf would occasionally visit the city walls, but he would remain silent, pretending to be deaf and mute, only exchanging a few words with A’liang if they met.

In truth, judging from the “Partridge Sky” inscription and Old Deaf’s conversations with Chen Ping’an, this great demon in the Ascension Realm possessed considerable learning.

A short, white-haired child, carrying a skeleton frame as white as jade, darted nimbly across the stream bank.

The skeleton’s bony feet dragged on the ground, creating a crackling sound.

It was clearly the remains of a golden-leafed immortal, but from where it was unearthed remained a mystery.

The Censor, shrouded in mist, turned to look at the extraterrestrial demon.

The white-haired child immediately halted, staring back from across the stream, grinning, “Just bringing a small gift to these two esteemed and talented young men to celebrate. One gift today, and I’ll add another tomorrow.”

Old Deaf chuckled softly.

The Sword Immortal remained silent.

The white-haired child said earnestly, “I swear on the names of the Hidden Official’s grandson and Old Deaf’s grandfather! I only wish to glance into their minds. If I harbor any sinister intentions, may I be struck by lightning.”

He lamented, “Just a few glances, really, only a few! It’s been far too long since I’ve seen the sights of the Wild Lands and the Sword Qi Great Wall.”

This extraterrestrial demon then turned to the two boys, “My surname is Wu, ‘mouth’ and ‘heaven,’ Wu, meaning ‘great words.’ My name is Die, from ‘die die bu xiu,’ meaning ‘ceaseless chatter,’ a reference to trivial words, words that are hard to finish saying. As an elder, I’m not one for formality; you can just call me by my full name.”

Neither Old Deaf nor the Censor would underestimate this extraterrestrial demon.

He was indeed an extremely annoying neighbor.

The white-haired child was about to persist when a flash of sword light appeared.

The white-haired child dropped the skeleton and fled. Each time it reformed, the ever-present sword light shattered it again. After dozens of attempts, it was more than ten miles from the cottage before the sword light ceased its pursuit.

The white-haired child hovered in the air, filled with sorrow.

A sliver of sword light, barely an inch long, hovered nearby.

This was the Censor’s flying sword technique. If the Sword Immortal wished, the sword light could relentlessly pursue the extraterrestrial demon for years.

The white-haired child raised its hands, “Little darling, go home, I won’t bother you, I’ll go find the Hidden Official.”

It vanished in a flash, appearing on the prison steps.

The sword light did not follow.

The “child,” adorned with a green snake earring and a short sword, slowly walked away, greatly disappointed that it had failed to enter the two boys’ minds.

To him, observing others’ memories was like viewing a picture album. Vague memories were like simple line drawings, while deeper memories were colorful paintings, as vivid and real as the actual world. The extraterrestrial demon’s abilities went beyond this, extending to the art of editing. The higher a cultivator’s realm, the greater the extraterrestrial demon’s power, allowing it to freely alter or erase cherished memories, causing people to forget some things or suddenly remember others.

The White Emperor City Lord was feared among the high-level cultivators of the vast world for this very skill, and it was why he was considered to be a member of the demonic path.
However, that City Lord’s “unreasonable” methods were numerous, a fact that this extraterrestrial demon greatly admired. It yearned to visit the Central Earth Divine Continent to pay respects to that City Lord and exchange insights on Daoist arts.

Alas, this prison prevented its escape.

“Let’s find some amusement then.”

Chen Qingdu had already agreed that as long as it didn’t directly target that young man, and used other means, with the previous probing considered, it had two chances remaining.

The white-haired child selected two individuals: a fox demon with mediocre bewitching skills and a lower-tier demon cultivator destined to die.

“That Hidden Official is ultimately a man, and judging by his attire, a scholar at that.”

Of all human desires, carnal desire is the most entangling, the same for both man and woman. Of all human attachments, righteousness is the heaviest shackle, no different for immortals and mortals alike.

That fox demon hailed from a fox den in the desolate wilderness, but sadly only possessed seven tails, indicating shallow cultivation.

The white-haired child arrived at the cage imprisoning the fox demon. Before she could sense anything amiss, it had already entered her mind, casually “flipping through pages,” browsing her thoughts.

A moment later, it swaggered out of the fox demon’s body, having only used a simple illusion. Shaking its head, it thought, “Tragic, truly amateurish. No wonder that young man remained unmoved.”

The fox demon remained completely unaware.

The white-haired child muttered to itself, “Next time you see that Chen Ping’an, you will revert to your natural appearance, unadorned and neatly dressed.”

“I also need to craft a mournful and sincere story for you. Perhaps you came to the Great Wall of Sword Qi to meet a lover.”

“Then, I’ll bestow upon you an additional supernatural ability, the art of Colored Silk refinement through Corpse Charms, and secretly help you construct a ‘Flowery Account’. Only then will you have a slight chance of success. Blame it on that boy’s unwavering heart and strangely calm mental state.”

Regardless of the material or final form of a Corpse Charm’s natal artifact, whether it’s a red gauze curtain, a canopy bed, or a handkerchief, it’s invariably called a “Flowery Account,” also known as a “Land of Gentle Bliss.”

This extraterrestrial demon casually occupied the mind of a seven-tailed fox demon and began to paint a picture, suddenly breaking into a smile.

“Cultivators controlling their own destiny, you say?”

“Aren’t you overestimating yourselves?”

Having fought a bloody battle with a Nascent Soul cultivator who wasn’t a sword cultivator, Chen Ping’an lay on the ground, panting heavily.

Nianxin tossed him a porcelain bottle, then busied herself nearby, saying, “Haste makes waste. Starting with Golden Core opponents is the right approach.”

Chen Ping’an said, “I need to find a place here to settle down, a place where I can cultivate in peace.”

Nianxin replied, “Then you’ll have to find that extraterrestrial demon. He’s skilled at manifesting the unreal into reality.”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “Since I can’t avoid him, I won’t.”

Nianxin continued to clean up the battlefield, saying, “We’ll be starting work soon. Let me tell you about the ways of the Seamstresses, so you can be mentally prepared and avoid unnecessary suffering when we act hastily.”

Chen Ping’an immediately sat up.

Nianxin said, “The work begins with carving eyeballs. But since that sounds unpleasant, let’s start with something lighter.”

Chen Ping’an smiled wryly and could only nod.

Nianxin slowly explained, “According to the Seamstresses’ rules, the human body is a microcosm, divided into three channels: mountain, water, and qi. Tendons and bones are the mountain channel, blood is the water channel, and spiritual energy fused with the soul is the qi channel.”

Chen Ping’an said in a low voice, “Please, Senior Nianxin, explain in detail, the more trivial the better.”

This could be compared to what Senior Li Er said, corroborating and greatly benefiting his martial arts.

The minute details of the human body are filled with countless checkpoints, like a vast map of geographic features.

Nianxin elaborated on the details, speaking at length. Then, she raised a hand, opened her palm, and her skin grew rapidly until it was indistinguishable from an ordinary person’s. “For example, the five fingers are the mountains, the palm lines are the water, winding and intersecting. This is the landscape where mountains and rivers converge. If you only look at the palm lines, you can see the entire world in your palm, following its patterns, the five internal organs are vividly displayed. Otherwise, where would cultivators derive the ability to ‘observe mountains and rivers in their palms’ from?”

Before Chen Ping’an could ask about the secrets to that神通 (shéntōng, supernatural power) he had longed for, Nianxin changed the subject. She held up her hand, spreading her five fingers. “You can sew the true forms of the Five Peaks, draw the cloud talismans of the Five Thunders Rectification, or use the art of imperial edicts to refine the Five Elements. You can also compose divine decrees and prayers. Just with the five fingers, I have six techniques that I’m proficient in. Legend has it that our Seamstresses’ founding ancestor was extraordinarily talented, unparalleled since then. Using layered formations, he fused several secret techniques into one, turning his hand into clouds and rain, his supernatural powers not inferior to the ancient Fengbo and Yushi (Gods of Wind and Rain). Once, he went to Dragon Tiger Mountain, wielding the Five Thunders Rectification with just one hand, and the sky darkened.”

Chen Ping’an tentatively said, “I once saw an anecdote in a scholar’s notebook, saying that someone tattooed hundreds of lines of poetry by a great poet on their body. Is there something of the Seamstresses’ methods hidden in that?”

Nianxin was silent for a moment, then said, “Mentally ill.”

Chen Ping’an could only nod in agreement. “Indeed. That’s what I thought at the time.”

Nianxin continued to explain the various secret methods and foundations of the Seamstresses.

Chen Ping’an took out his Sword-Nourishing Gourd but didn’t drink.

Nianxin casually asked, “Why do men like to drink so much? Especially cultivators, how detrimental is drinking to their cultivation?”

“The Great Wall of Sword Qi isn’t like our Vast Expanse. Even if you break through, you may not live long. How many Earth Immortal sword cultivators would squat by the roadside, drinking and eating pickled vegetables?”

There wouldn’t be such a scene in the world anymore anyway.

Chen Ping’an hesitated, then, thinking of her in his heart, smiled and said, “A woman is like wine, no need to drink it.”

Chen Ping’an leaned back, forgetting who said it, “A boy’s love for a girl is like drinking unfiltered rice wine. The alcohol content isn’t strong, but it can still intoxicate a first-timer. A man’s love for a woman is like drinking spirits, and one mistake can burn through your liver and intestines. An old man’s longing for a woman is like warming a pot of yellow wine in the dead of winter.”

Nianxin turned to look at him, teasing, “In the future, say less of such words to women.”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “I’ll change that in the future.”

Besides Ning Yao, he never had words of love to say anyway.

Chen Ping’an closed his eyes. He knew he couldn’t rush the Seamstress work in the prison, but he still wanted to leave sooner.

At this moment, the extraterrestrial demon was facing a lower-tier demon cultivator.

And at the Great Wall of Sword Qi, a great battle was imminent.

The sun illuminated the city walls.
The old Daoist, with one hand gently patting the sea of clouds beneath him, a cushion seemingly the largest in the world, beckoned to the suspended sun with the other. “My virtuous merits are not yet complete, and my pockets are embarrassingly empty. Truly a poor Daoist, I can only borrow some light on credit.”

The vast sea of clouds scattered, then coalesced into golden deities, which the old Daoist swept his sleeve and scattered upon the battlefield.

Above the front line, the massive forms of the demonic clans, revealing their true bodies, clashed with the golden deities.

A monk, draped in a kasaya, shook his shoulders, scattering a swarm of lion-shaped parasites, each one refined into a Buddhist scripture.

A Confucian sage, sat upright and solemn. The sun was just right, perfect for airing books.

The book’s title contained his core character, the central theme around which it revolved.

Countless siege demons from the desolate wilderness assaulted the defenses.

On this day, Chen Pingan sat cross-legged outside a cage.

Nianxin, with her hands behind her back, stared intently into Chen Pingan’s eyes.

Her Yin spirit was meticulously carving the young man’s eyeball with a sewing needle.

This had been going on for the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, causing tiny droplets of blood to gather and flow from his eye socket in thin strands.

Nianxin observed the state of the young man’s mind, casually saying, “If you can’t withstand this, I advise you to give up on the sewing later. Don’t close your eyes. If your eyeball moves even a little, all efforts will be wasted. Consider the consequences yourself.”

As long as he endured, the seamstress would have mysterious methods to heal his wounds.

After a moment, Nianxin was slightly surprised and said, “Not bad. It seems we can do two things at once. The eyeball is being treated with the most basic methods of covering and greening, slowly inserting the needle, and primarily engraving cloud seal script with the shallowest inscriptions. However, what follows on your back will not be so easy. We’ll mainly use the technique of impulsive cuts, and engrave nine-fold seal script, bird-worm seal script, and hanging dew seal script on your spinal joints. These are all techniques for peeling the skin. The even more important techniques for dressing are still too early. If you think you can’t bear it today, or feel you can wait, tell me now.”

Chen Pingan remained silent.

Nianxin came behind Chen Pingan, using her hands as knives to cut through his blue robe and skin, before slowly pulling out a portion of his spine with her hand.

The woman bent her finger and gently tapped it, listening intently, then said regretfully, “You misled me. There are so many hidden minor injuries? Why didn’t you show them at all?”

Nianxin casually placed the spine back in its place, her tone somewhat accusatory, “I won’t apply medicine yet. Get used to this pain as soon as possible. Aren’t you good at enduring? Enjoy it.”

Chen Pingan couldn’t speak, and had to maintain a desolate, ashen state of mind and a “stagnant water” state of his soul, otherwise he would have wanted to wring the woman’s head off.

Inside the prison, a round and square building had appeared out of nowhere a few days ago, with no cover except for four pillars.

It was a small pavilion like those commonly seen on human roads, but not exactly the same.

Chen Pingan walked barefoot.

Inside it, his vision was open, although he couldn’t actually see anything.

The white-haired child of Erqingshe hovered outside the building and asked, “What exactly is wrong with you?”

Chen Pingan continued walking, asking in reply, “What do you mean?”

The white-haired child angrily said, “How can a cultivator’s mind be so fragmented, like a battlefield?! It’s making me run into obstacles everywhere…”

Chen Pingan slowly made a fist, smiling, “In the light, there is the law of the king; in the dark, there are ghosts and spirits. Both light and dark are turbid, but conscience remains in the heart. Heaven and earth, universe, sun and moon are bright, what fault is there?”

Nianxin stood on the steps in the distance, reminding him, “Start working.”