Chen Lingjun wouldn’t dare pat that person’s shoulder, refusing point-blank, practically throwing a tantrum. The Old Master had no choice but to give up, allowing Chen Lingjun to lead him out of the small town. They went neither to the Immortal’s Graveyard nor the Civil-Military Temple, instead taking a detour to the Dragon Whisker River and its stone arch bridge, finally taking a cursory glance at the ruins of the small temple resembling a rest stop.

Chen Lingjun tentatively inquired, “Venerable Sage, that tall Daoist elder, was his cultivation level exceedingly high?”

The Old Master nodded, “Very high indeed. If his cultivation were not profound, Dao Ancestor would not have imparted Daoist arts to him. Furthermore, this fellow Daoist, in his early years, bestowed great kindness upon our human race. Hence, when Ritual Sage established the twelve zodiac animals corresponding to the earthly branches, his ranking was quite high. It’s just that his ox-like temper…” He paused, “Ah, speaking ill of others behind their backs is not righteous.”

Chen Lingjun worriedly asked, “But judging from his tone, it seems he holds some grudges against my Master?”

What was he to do? He certainly couldn’t defeat that old Daoist, and the Venerable Sage had said that fighting Dao Ancestor would make him hesitant. No matter how he looked at it, his side didn’t have the upper hand.

Of course, he and the Venerable Sage were on the same side; one couldn’t betray their own. What was loyalty? It was like two gangs fighting, a brawl where, even if outnumbered and destined to lose, you stood and took the beating alongside your friends, never running.

Earlier, the old Daoist had mentioned Lotus Root Blessed Land. Judging from his tone, his Master had suffered a loss of face there.

Regarding the blessed land now called Lotus Root Blessed Land, Chen Lingjun only knew that Pei Qian, Cao Qinglang, Old Chef, and Farmer, among others, hailed from that place of outstanding individuals and auspicious geomancy. But each of them disliked talking about their hometown, and Chen Lingjun was too lazy to ask, so he always mistakenly believed that the former low-grade Lotus Root Blessed Land, with hardly any cultivators, let alone Earth Immortals, couldn’t stir up much trouble.

Who would have thought that someone Dao Ancestor called a “fellow Daoist” would emerge? Truly, one couldn’t judge a book by its cover. He was fortunate to be kind and well-meaning, mentioning the abundance of green grass on his mountain. Otherwise, he, with his meager strength, couldn’t bear such an enormous debt.

The Old Master shook his head, “Actually, that’s not the case. Back in Lotus Root Blessed Land, this fellow Daoist quite approved of your Master’s conduct, especially his heartfelt words of ‘Daoist Master, Daoist Master,’ which were remarkably comforting.”

Chen Lingjun was relieved, puffing out his chest and laughing, “My Master has always had good rapport with his elders. As for me, I follow his example, and I’m not too bad either.”

The Old Master smiled, “I’m not very good at this ‘elder rapport’ thing. Back when I was traveling the world with my disciples, I met a fisherman and couldn’t get across the river. Looking back, I was still too proud, displeasing the Grand Dao.”

Chen Lingjun boldly said, “When my Master was traveling through the Great Sui Dynasty with Treasure Bottle and the others, they lived off the land. My Master was the one who knocked on doors, borrowing lodging from woodcutters, so it was relatively smooth.”

The Old Master asked, “Jingqing, you’ve cultivated with Chen Ping’an for many years, and there are many books on the mountain. Haven’t you read Sect Leader Lu’s ‘Fisherman’s Tale,’ not knowing the origin of the phrase ‘sharing the imperial court,’ who once scolded me for having ‘a face still full of arrogance’?”

Chen Lingjun looked embarrassed, “My Master has read all the books. On Fallen Mountain, I only know to diligently cultivate every day and haven’t had time for that yet.”

The Old Master chuckled, “You still need to read more. At least you can join the conversation when chatting with people.”

Chen Lingjun nodded vigorously like a chick pecking at rice, “I’ll definitely read and cultivate at the same time from now on.”

In the future, every time he went down the mountain, he would often go to the Confucian Temple in Huaihuang County to offer incense and kowtow to the Venerable Sage!

Chen Lingjun hesitated, then curiously asked, “Could I ask about Buddha’s Dharma?”

The implied meaning was to ask if the Old Master could defeat Buddha.

The Old Master stroked his beard and smiled, “Able to shrink the vast world into a single mote of dust, and able to transform a single flower into a world of mountains and rivers, what do you say about the Dharma?”

Chen Lingjun sighed. He couldn’t control himself and subconsciously patted the Old Master’s sleeve. It was fine; fighting harmed harmony. It was better to fight less.

The Old Master didn’t mind and casually asked, “Having stayed here for so long, are there people you dislike?”

Chen Lingjun sheepishly withdrew his hand, simply imitating his Master by folding his hands in his sleeves to avoid making any further inappropriate gestures. After thinking for a while, there wasn’t anyone he truly hated, but since the Venerable Sage had asked, he had to give an answer, so he picked out a relatively unpleasant fellow, “Ma Kuxuan of Apricot Blossom Lane doesn’t pay attention to details, a hundred and eight thousand miles worse than my Master.”

The Old Master naturally knew of Ma Kuxuan of True Martial Mountain but didn’t comment on the young man’s merits or demerits. Instead, he smiled and revealed a secret of the past, “That old blind man in the Savage World, who used puppets to move the ten thousand mountains, was once very disappointed in us and took out a pair of eyeballs, throwing them into the Vast World and Azure Nether World respectively, saying he wanted to see us turn into beings no different from the former gods. One of these eyeballs was taken to Lotus Root Blessed Land by the Old Master, given to that fire-tending Daoist boy. The remaining one stayed with Ma Kuxuan. Old Yang’s bet on Ma Kuxuan in his early years wasn’t small.”

The Old Master sighed, “Back then, the old blind man, speaking only of appearance, was indeed excellent, far surpassing Chen Qingdu. However, both were honest and stubborn, with terrible tempers.”

Speaking of which, Chen Lingjun remembered something, “Actually, there is someone I dislike, but there’s nothing to say. An unreasonable woman. I’m a grown man; what can I do to her? It’s the woman who falsely accused Pei Qian of killing her white goose and demanded compensation. Pei Qian ended up paying. Pei Qian was quite sad then, but my Master was traveling abroad and not at home, so she could only bottle it up. Actually, when Pei Qian first went to study at the school, she did chase white geese on the way to and from class, but every time, she would have Little Rice Grain carry some rice bran and corn in her pockets. After the chase, Pei Qian would wave her hand, and Little Rice Grain would immediately throw a handful into the alley, as a reward for her so-called defeated opponents.”

The Old Master nodded, “She must have been sad.”
In the earliest days of the Hundred Schools of Thought, the Mohist school was a prominent philosophy in the vast world. There was also the Yang Zhu school, which later faded into obscurity. The doctrines of these two schools once filled the world, leading to the saying, “One either belongs to Yang or to Mo.” Then came a pivotal turning point that later generations often overlooked: the Second Sage requested the Sage of Rites to return from beyond the heavens to the Central Earth Confucian Temple to discuss a matter. The ultimate result was the Confucian Temple suppressing the Yang Zhu school, preventing the world from progressing along its path. Only then did the rise of the Second Sage occur, followed by his enshrinement in the Confucian Temple, and later, the Sage of Culture, who proposed the inherent evil of human nature.

Among the founding patriarchs of the Hundred Schools of Thought, many strongly criticized this, believing that the Sage of Rites feared that his own Great Dao of “rites and regulations” would clash irreconcilably with the Yang Zhu school’s emphasis on “individual freedom.” They felt that a formless battle of the Great Dao truly existed between worldly order and individual liberty. Therefore, many people believed that the Sage of Rites agreed to the Second Sage’s proposal out of personal self-interest.

The Sage of Rites, who rarely enjoyed wine, unusually sought out the Supreme Sage for a drink on that occasion. However, while drinking, the Sage of Rites remained silent, merely drinking in silence.

The Old Master, of course, knew the reason. It wasn’t that the Yang Zhu school, which advocated “everyone for themselves, a matter of course,” was bad. If it were, it wouldn’t have become a prominent philosophy. Its discussions of life and death were extremely frank and insightful, and its emphasis on valuing oneself was unique and innovative. The principle of “do not be burdened by objects, do not harm external things” was also excellent. Nor was it merely that this school of thought was close to Daoism. It was that this school, one day, would pour down upon the world like a cascading river, spreading out and becoming the way of the world. It would cause all people walking on this path—all of them—to become increasingly extreme. This involved an even more hidden struggle between human nature and divinity.

The Old Master asked, “Jingqing, how does your master view the Yang Zhu school?”

Chen Lingjun pondered for a moment and honestly replied, “My master hasn’t mentioned it. But I heard Big White Goose say that it’s a kind of chaotic refinement, not very good. A small group studying this path is harmless and can even benefit the world. But if everyone were like that, it would be like ephemeral flowers.”

If Cui Dongshan hadn’t been spouting nonsense, Chen Lingjun wouldn’t have even heard of the Yang Zhu school.

Chen Lingjun always thought that Big White Goose was a drunkard, the kind of person who talked like he was drunk even when he hadn’t been drinking.

The two walked along the Dragon Beard River. Along the way, the Supreme Sage told him everything he knew. Chen Lingjun’s walk became a little floaty. “Supreme Sage, you’ve chatted with me so much today, surely you think I’m a promising talent, right?”

The Old Master chuckled and said, “What kind of reasoning is that?”

Chen Lingjun had a sincere expression on his face and said, “You’re so busy, but you’re willing to chat with me all the way.”

The Old Master answered indirectly, “Every version of yourself from yesterday is your biggest support today.”

“Jingqing, why do you like to drink?”

“Ah? Does liking to drink need a reason?”

“You’re right.”

“Supreme Sage, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“What kind of person is the most annoying at the dinner table?”

“It’s those guys who get red in the face when they drink.”

Oh ho, as expected, the Supreme Sage couldn’t be stumped! That sentence immediately struck a chord with him.

Chen Lingjun continued tentatively, “What’s the most annoying thing to hear?”

“It’s saying, ‘Persuading you to drink hurts my character, I’ll finish this, you can drink as you please.'”

Oh ho oh ho, the Supreme Sage’s knowledge is truly extraordinary! Chen Lingjun admired him from the bottom of his heart, grinning, “I didn’t expect you to be someone who’s been through it all.”

“Jingqing, then let me ask you, what do you think counts as being poor?”

“Having money but no knowledge?”

The Old Master glanced at the young man in green robes who was starting to swing his sleeves beside him.

Chen Lingjun immediately folded his sleeves again and changed his answer, “Being a wealthy but unkind, heinous person?”

The Old Master smiled, “Just say what’s on your mind.”

Chen Lingjun breathed a sigh of relief. Thinking too much was exhausting. “It’s having no money in your pocket, being too poor to marry a wife, being a bachelor, asking people to buy wine on credit, and no one willing to lend you money, being too poor to want face, and even that bit of face having to be hidden away, as if it can’t be seen in the light. And then, with a ‘thud,’ that last bit of face is casually trampled into a pulp by someone, and you can only wait until people have dispersed and the crowd has finished watching the show before you dare to find a chance to pick it up from the ground.”

“Is that all?”

“Only daring to doubt the world, not daring to doubt yourself?”

The Old Master nodded. The two answers one after the other, especially the latter, were quite unexpected. He asked with a smile, “Did you come up with that at the dinner table?”

Chen Lingjun was a little embarrassed, raising his sleeve to wipe his face. “How could that be? At the dinner table, when I’m really drunk and don’t know the immensity of heaven and earth, I follow the master to the mountain. I’m too lazy and still like to find excuses for myself, wandering around all day. I just like to go down the mountain to this town to relax. Supreme Sage, don’t blame me. Earlier, when I said I was diligent in my cultivation, that’s nonsense. I just eat and drink on the mountain, and eat and drink when I come down. Fortunately, the master sees it all, but he never cares about me. If the master doesn’t care, who else dares to care about me? Supreme Sage, it’s not me bragging, but everyone on Fallen Mountain respects the master from the bottom of their hearts.”

The Old Master looked up at Fallen Mountain.

Apart from an uncommon name, in terms of objects, there was nothing strange about it.

But that was the greatest strangeness.

The Old Master asked, “Why did Chen Ping’an choose Fallen Mountain when he bought a mountain?”

Chen Lingjun chuckled, “There’s actually a story behind that. I heard Pei Qian secretly say that the master initially favored two mountains, one was True Pearl Mountain, because it cost less money, just one gold fine copper coin. The other was Fallen Mountain, where our Ancestral Hall is now located. The master spread out a map of the mountain’s terrain and didn’t know how to choose. As a result, a flying bird just happened to pass by and dropped a turd on the map, landing right on ‘Fallen Mountain,’ haha, it’s so funny…”

The Old Master asked with a smile, “Does the old saying in town have a meaning?”
Chen Lingjun vigorously rubbed his face, barely managing to suppress a smile. “The Master is truly willing to say anything to his eldest disciple, Pei Qian. He says that Old Yao, the kiln worker who took him into the mountains to find clay, once said that there’s something mystical between the mountains and rivers, that the heavens are watching from above. Anyway, our Master believes that the most. But the Master also said that he later suspected it was all the National Preceptor’s doing.”

The Old Master nodded. Chen Ping’an’s suspicion was the truth; it was indeed Cui Chan’s handiwork.

‘Destitute’ is hardly a desirable term, but if it can be ‘defined,’ the meaning changes entirely.

The reason Cui Chan separated out a carefree Cui Dongshan, besides those grand schemes that have already come to light, actually contains an interesting trick. It’s using another version of himself to unlock certain restrictions with key words, like a series of “letters home” sent to his future self, reminding him of what to say and do at certain stages, moments, and turning points. Like how the Daoist Ancestor left the Lotus Cave Heaven and the Azure Billow World this time. He had long ago ‘spoken to himself,’ engaging in different dialogues with those destined ones he already saw in the future, but who hadn’t yet reached him. These were all carefully calculated within the cave heaven, through the evolution of the Great Dao and meticulous deductions.

The Embroidered Tiger of the Great Hao Heaven, this time invited the three founders of the Three Teachings to be seated, one asking the Dao, and three disseminating it.

Of course, this isn’t to say that Cui Chan’s intellect, Dao arts, or knowledge surpass the founders of the Three Teachings.

It’s more like the founders of the Three Teachings have ten thousand choices, and Cui Chan claims he can prove that the path he helped them choose is the most beneficial for the world. This is that undeniable one in ten thousand possibility, so will the three of you walk it, or not?

Reaching the stone arch bridge, where no sword hung, the Old Master paused, stopping to look at the river water. Raising his head slightly, he looked towards the green cliffs on the distant riverbank, the place where the straw sandal boy and the ponytail girl first met, one catching fish in the water, the other watching him.

Countless small fish leisurely swam in the clear water, a contest to cross the river for a chance to become a dragon. The ancient Dragon Gate reappeared in the human realm, with golden and white scaled carp vying to leap over.

Chen Lingjun plopped down on the edge of the bridge, dangling his feet in the air, arms crossed, and looked up, asking, “Venerable Sage, what were you looking at in the courtyard back in Mud Bottle Lane?”

The Old Master clasped his hands behind his back and smiled. “A child terrified of poverty and driven by hunger, dried fish to survive, ate it all, not a single scrap left, consumed it all, silently.”

A helpless child in Mud Bottle Lane, who first learned to brew medicine from the pharmacy apprentice, then learned to climb mountains and wade through rivers from Liu Xianyang, then learned the craft of firing porcelain from Old Yao of the Dragon Kiln, practiced martial arts and learned to read from the boxing manual, and then learned to write based on Lu Chen’s medical prescriptions. After leaving his hometown, he still cautiously regarded the world, constantly learning from others the ways of the world, learning as many skills as possible. Every heartfelt acknowledgement, every cautious self-validation and cultivation of the heart, is a kind of silent growth. At the same time, he does his best to give back to the world. Chen Ping’an once said when he was young that he would learn everything good. Now, even Wu Shuangjiang and Zheng Juzhong’s techniques for dismantling all things and the human heart are still being studied by the young Hidden Official who is now at the age of confusion. Presumably, Chen Ping’an will continue to do so in the future.

The Old Master looked at the river and asked, “The term ‘world,’ the earliest use comes from Buddhism. As for ‘realm,’ according to our Master Xu’s Explanations of Words and Characters?”

Chen Lingjun wore a distressed expression. “Venerable Sage, don’t look at me like that, I definitely don’t know.”

The Old Master pointed to the fields beside the river and smiled. “The edge of the field, a place for planting grain, a model of crisscrossing paths. Old Scholar said that humans are born with desires, and if those desires are not fulfilled, they cannot but seek. And if they seek without measure or boundaries, they cannot but contend. Listen, isn’t that a clear thread? So the final conclusion is that human nature is inherently evil, and that is the origin of ritual. Old Scholar’s learning is very practical. And if you were the Sage of Rites, would you be happy to hear that?”

Chen Lingjun was filled with shame. “Venerable Sage, I haven’t read enough books, I don’t understand anything you ask, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, books don’t have legs, there will be plenty of opportunities to read them in the future, just don’t read them in vain.”

The Old Master patted the head of the boy in green robes, offering comfort as well as a word of advice, “The Dao is not far from man, don’t suffer for nothing.”

Chen Lingjun was confused, but decided to listen and remember it for now.

The Old Master said gently, “Jingqing, you can go about your own business, you don’t need to help me lead the way.”

Chen Lingjun mustered his courage and asked, “Do you want to go to Riding Dragon Lane for a drink? My Master isn’t home, I can help him drink a few more bowls.”

The Old Master shook his head and smiled. “Drinking at this hour is not proper, don’t take advantage of getting a good deal, that’s a good habit. Don’t worry, I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about us Confucians.”

Chen Lingjun took a few steps back, bowed respectfully to the Venerable Sage, and then turned to run off the stone arch bridge. He didn’t dare to directly return to Fallen Mountain on the wind, planning to find Old Jia in Riding Dragon Lane for a drink to calm his nerves.

The boy in green robes had run far away, but suddenly stopped, turned around, and shouted loudly, “Venerable Sage, I think you’re the most amazing, I don’t understand how amazing, but anyway… this!”

Chen Lingjun raised his arm high and gave a thumbs up.

The Old Master smiled and nodded, it was also very comforting.

Heaven and earth are the lodging place for all things, time is the transient traveler of a hundred generations, and we are all passersby on the road. Sorrowful? Painful? Wondrous? Fortunate?

Crossing the water to look at the flowers, unknowingly arriving at your home, I bid farewell here, and express my gratitude.

The Old Master bowed in thanks and farewell to the entire heaven and earth.

A cultivator rides the wind, soaring towards the sun and moon, light and graceful.

The people of the mortal world, because they are not free, pursue freedom, hoping that in the next shift of the seas and mulberry fields, the sea of suffering can be transformed into a field of blessings, where everyone is well-fed and clothed, and the sound of reading fills every place.

Finally, the Venerable Sage glanced at the humble lane in the small town.

The small alleyway is named Mud Bottle Lane.

As Heaven maintains vigor through movement, a gentleman strives for self-improvement.

Isn’t it beautiful to open a flower from the mud, making a bottle from the heart, and the flower blooming outside the bottle?

Believing the other two traveling the small town, also regarded that one in the same manner.

The Old Daoist Master glanced askance at the mountain path, as if a white cloud was falling from the green mountains.
Besides that, there was a woman martial artist descending the mountain, practicing her footwork on wooden stakes. The white-robed youth was circling around her, huffing and puffing, leaping and hopping, practicing clumsy boxing stances.

The woman was likely used to it, ignoring his antics and disturbances, focusing solely on descending the mountain, delivering punches as she walked the stakes.

The old Daoist priest was too lazy to keep watching that Cui Dongshan. With a wave of his hand, two objects appeared in his grasp: a talismanic sword, a token crafted by the Dragon Spring Sword Sect, and a peace amulet issued by the Great Li Ministry of Justice, its engraving rough and the craftsmanship simple.

As for where these two objects came from, heaven only knew.

The old Daoist priest pinched the talismanic sword with two fingers, examining it closely. As expected, it contained a hidden, ancient sword art. Qi refiners whose realm wasn’t high enough were destined to be unable to see through this.

As for what constituted a realm that wasn’t high enough, naturally, it meant anyone below a fourteenth-realm Qi refiner or an ascension-realm swordsman.

However, the sword art was incomplete. To fill it in, one would likely…

Need another five or six talismanic swords. But regardless of the cost of the talismanic swords, as long as someone was willing and had the heart, completing this task would be an extremely profitable venture. How profitable? Just this one sword art was enough to allow a sword sect to gain a foothold in the vast world of the Grand Azure, the key being its low barrier to entry. As long as someone was a sword cultivator, even without great talent, they could cultivate and practice the sword step by step. In terms of killing power, the rank of the sword art wasn’t high, but cultivating it was safe and stable. Therefore, the larger sects valued this type of Daoist art even more.

Cui Dongshan, over by the steps, leaped high, turned sideways in mid-air, and landed beside the table. He shook his snow-white sleeves, looked up into the distance, and said to himself, “Autumn is approaching, the autumn wind is clear, the autumn moon is bright, autumn clouds fill the void, and lotus flowers fall upon the autumn water.”

Then, he retracted his gaze, first glanced at the old cook, and then looked at the not-unfamiliar old Daoist priest. Cui Dongshan said with a playful smile, “When the autumn water arrives, all the rivers flow into the river, vast and surging, making it difficult to distinguish between oxen and horses.”

Zhu Lian smiled and said nothing. Those words were a bit deserving of a beating.

Cui Dongshan, with his back to the table, plopped down on the long bench, turned around, and asked, “Mountains and rivers far away, clouds deep and the road remote, where does the honored guest, old Daoist priest, come from?”

Zhu Lian cracked melon seeds. If he were the old Daoist priest, he reckoned he would have made a move already.

The old Daoist priest sneered, “All things in this world have cracks. Everything you see, even the golden body of a god, and everything you can’t see, even the Dao heart of a cultivator, is not a complete one. This path is impassable. No matter how much Cui Chan investigates in his lifetime, he will never find it, destined to be in vain. Otherwise, why would the founders of the three religions come here? If the Dao and the One were some physical object, wouldn’t there be another earth-shattering event?”

Cui Dongshan complained, “What kind of bastard are you talking about? I’m Dongshan.”

The old Daoist priest chuckled.

Cui Dongshan shook his shoulders, muttering to himself, like a scholar reciting classics, “Furthermore, is the Dao near? The eye cannot see its own lashes. Is the Dao far? Touching things is truth. Is the sage near? Like the stars Shen and Shang, appearing and disappearing. Is the sage far? Understanding is divinity.”

The old Daoist priest smiled slightly, “Back then, Cui Chan at least had the appearance of a scholar. If you had been like this back then, this poor Daoist can guarantee that you wouldn’t have been able to leave Lotus Flower Paradise.”

Cui Dongshan patted his chest, as if frightened.

The old Daoist priest took a sip of tea, “A good daughter-in-law deceives both sides, a bad daughter-in-law spreads tales to both sides. In reality, deceiving both sides often leads to difficulties on both sides.”

Wiping the table with his sleeve, Cui Dongshan rolled his eyes, “Senior, those words are not appropriate.”

Seeing that this fellow continued to play dumb, the old Daoist priest turned to look at the woman practicing footwork on the steps and asked, “Is this the boxing disciple you’ve chosen?”

Zhu Lian smiled, “Not even a nominal disciple. Besides, my meager skills would not be suitable for a woman to learn.”

The old Daoist priest disagreed and asked the woman, “Are you called Cen Yuanji?”

*Cen* meant a small but high mountain, describing the steep appearance of mountain rocks and cliffs. *Yuanji* was a common weaving loom, while poets would use it as an analogy for moving flower shadows.

Lu Chen had always acted as he pleased, most fond of casting a long line to catch a big fish, but not caring if he didn’t catch anything.

Whether it was Shi Rou in Riding Dragon Lane, or that robe, Jin Li, with its convoluted origins, he only wanted someone to take the bait, not caring about the broken lines or the fish that had taken the bait and swam away.

Cen Yuanji had just stopped at the mountain gate. She knew what was important: an old Daoist priest who could make both Zhu Lian and Cui Dongshan come down the mountain to meet him must be extraordinary.

For some reason, although the old Daoist priest’s expression was normal, Cen Yuanji felt immense pressure. She clasped her fist in salute and said, “Replying to the Daoist priest, this junior’s name is indeed Cen Yuanji.”

Zhu Lian smiled, “Why scare a young girl?”

Cui Dongshan waved, “Little Rice Grain, come and crack some melon seeds.”

The little girl in black immediately got up from the bamboo chair, ran to the table, and took out all the remaining melon seeds from her cloth satchel. There weren’t many, “Here, Junior Brother.”

Cui Dongshan slapped his forehead and asked, “Right Protector, is that all?”

Little Rice Grain, hearing Great White Goose change his address, put on a serious face and took out another large handful from her sleeve pocket.

Cui Dongshan nodded, “Right Protector is generous!”

The old Daoist priest then asked Zhu Lian, “What about the path of the sword? Do you plan to select someone from the sword immortal embryos of Sword Qi Great Wall?”

Likewise, another old Daoist priest, Grand Profound Capital Temple’s Sun Daoist Priest, encouraged Lu Chen to scatter his Dao and simply reincarnate as a sword cultivator, it wasn’t entirely a joke, but with a purpose.

Of course, with Sun Huaizhong’s temper, if Lu Chen really went to become a sword cultivator, he would probably make Lu Chen the lowest-ranked little Daoist child in Grand Profound Capital Temple, no matter what, and make him call himself ancestor several times a day, or he would hang him on the peach tree and beat him.

Zhu Lian smiled, “How could I have the face to teach others swordsmanship? Wouldn’t that be misleading them?”

Any sword cultivator in the Grand Azure, thrown into Lotus Flower Paradise, would be a well-deserved sword immortal.
Within the history of Lotus Root Blessed Land, there are some apocryphal records of Earth Immortals, albeit without verifiable sources. Zhu Lian, beyond his accounting and construction skills, also once embarked on compiling official histories, thus having encountered many unrefined wild tales. These so-called Earth Immortals, they would spew sword pills from their mouths, a flash of white light, and heads would roll a thousand miles away. However, even these strange tales from his hometown spoke ill of the Sword Immortal lineage, claiming it was not the true path to longevity, merely a sorcerous trick, the art of flying swords unable to achieve the Grand Dao. Yet, Zhu Lian’s martial arts journey, at its core, truly originated from books, akin to the scholars of the vast world. He was a self-taught individual, mastering his craft solely through reading, except one pursued cultivation, while the other practiced martial arts.

In his early days wandering the pugilistic world, Zhu Lian also traveled far and wide, sword at his side, traversing famous mountains and great rivers, seeking immortals and inquiring about the Dao.

Furthermore, harboring a hidden thought, Zhu Lian desired to know the limits of the world. If it truly was a flat earth under a dome, however vast, there must be an end, no?

Little Millet hadn’t gone far, her face full of shock, turning her head to ask, “Old Chef also knows how to wield a sword?”

Zhu Lian waved his hand, “What swordplay? Don’t listen to such polite words from guests. Compared to Pei Qian’s mad demon swordplay, it’s far inferior.”

Cui Dongshan lowered his head, cracking melon seeds, “Little Millet, you wouldn’t know, but our old chef, when he takes off his apron in the kitchen and goes out, his swordplay is quite beautiful. He’s very famous in the Lotus Root Blessed Land’s pugilistic world. They say that Noble Son Zhu Lian’s longsword is entwined with the tender feelings of women, surpassing even the rice noodles. Countless female martial artists have devoted their lives to practicing swordsmanship, just for a chance to compete with Old Chef.”

Cui Chan had once followed the Old Scholar, traveling through Lotus Root Blessed Land, and had a deep understanding of its customs and culture.

Little Millet quickly covered her stomach with one hand, pursing her lips tightly, and muttered unclearly, “Old Chef was also a noble son once?”

Zhu Lian laughed, “A hero doesn’t boast of past glories. These are all things of the past. Pugilistic affairs, they’re all exaggerated rumors, becoming more and more outlandish.”

Little Millet nodded heavily, making an “mm” sound, then turned and ran back to the bamboo chair, grinning widely, just being considerate of Old Chef’s face, holding back her laughter.

That Left Guardian of Riding Dragon Lane had just wandered to the mountain gate when it raised its head and caught sight of the Old Daoist Master from afar. It immediately turned tail and ran.

The Old Abbot glanced over, what a pity, he wondered why Ruan Xiu had changed her mind; otherwise, the old saying, “Toad swallowing the moon, Heavenly Dog devouring the moon” would have come true.

Sui Youbian arrived from another mountain peak on her sword. She did not take a seat, wishing to ask this Old God of Lotus Root Blessed Land about her teacher’s affairs.

The Old Abbot said to her, “Tell Chen Pingan that the survival of Golden Summit Temple on Tongye Continent is of no concern to this poor Daoist, but Shao Yuanran must be kept. As for that Ni Yuanzan, you only need to tell him that once he sends out that golden elixir, he will be a free man.”

The lineage of Golden Summit Temple originates from the Louguan School, a branch of Daoism known for “building towers from grass, observing stars and discerning auras.” As for Ni Yuanzan, who held the punt in Cloud Cave Blessed Land, he was a pawn cast out of the blessed land by the Old Abbot.

Sui Youbian hesitated, but in the end, she remained silent.

Zhu Lian helped ease the situation, taking the matter upon himself with a nod, “What difficulty is there in this? It’s just delivering a message.”

The Old Abbot asked, “Why isn’t Jiang Shangzhen of the Jade Tablet Sect on the mountain?”

Zhu Lian laughed, “He should have stayed on the mountain to go to Tongye Continent together, but our Chief Zhou got angrier the more he thought about it and secretly ran off to the Wild Desolate World.”

Sui Youbian, receiving a wink from Zhu Lian, quietly departed and went to Little Millet’s side.

The Old Abbot looked around and sighed, “With the matter of Dissipating the Dao, I never expected that in the end, your Confucianism would benefit the most. Yu Dou will probably be furious.”

Once the founders of the three teachings simultaneously Dissipate the Dao, the academies, temples, and Daoist temples would all benefit. Relatively speaking, the vast world, which is most accommodating to other teachings, would naturally receive the most blessings.

At the same time as Dissipating the Dao, the three founders would jointly take a trip to the ruins of the Old Heavenly Court, a major problem they certainly wouldn’t leave to others.

Cui Dongshan laughed, “It would be best if Dao the Second was angered to death.”

The Old Abbot said softly, “Just one matter: when there are no more fifteenth-realm cultivators in the human world, how will those already at the fourteenth realm view those with the opportunity to become fourteenth-realm cultivators?”

Cui Dongshan nodded, “The world is about to change, there will be good and bad, but I now lean towards the latter.”

The Old Abbot asked, “Now? Why?”

Cui Dongshan said with a straight face, “Because my teacher is here.”

The Old Abbot turned to look at Zhu Lian, one of the Seven Phases and Five Dreams of Land Sinkage, perhaps even two of them.

Zhu Lian laughed, “Why is senior looking at me? I’m not as handsome as my young master.”

The Old Abbot chuckled, “Truly a good place, this poor Daoist has not made this trip in vain. The family style is exceedingly upright.”