In the courtyard of the “Echoing Voices” building, the old scholar, thoroughly drunk, declared his intention to visit a place he’d long desired to see, to personally express his gratitude. He claimed it was the source of his coin, allowing him for the first time in his life to assemble a presentable set of writing implements, truly making him feel like a scholar studying in his library.

Chen Ping’an knew where his teacher was going and did not follow.

The old scholar left the courtyard and traveled south, away from the capital.

Once, in a humble alleyway of a small country within the Central Earth Continent, a master and apprentice, one old and one young, were constantly scraping the bottom of the barrel. With nothing better to do, as reading wouldn’t fill their bellies, they would often stand at the doorway, eagerly awaiting the arrival of a letter from the young boy’s family. They didn’t care what the letter said; they weren’t waiting for the words, but for the tuition fee that accompanied the letter. Money was the courage of heroes. Occasionally, during festivals, such as the birthday of the Sage Teacher, the patron from the distant Treasure Bottle Continent would send a gift to the nominal “tutor,” a sum of silver coins in a red packet.

The impoverished scholar first encountered a silver note when he received an exceptionally generous festival gift.

Once, when the young boy received a letter, it was just a light, fluttering piece of paper. The scholar shook it vigorously, but not even a copper coin tinkled out. The scholar was dumbfounded. The boy squatted by the doorway, arms crossed in his sleeves, feeling guilty. It wasn’t that his family lacked money, but his grandfather resented his unauthorized departure, traveling so far, all the way from the Treasure Bottle Continent to the Central Earth Continent, to find a scholar with only a licentiate degree as his teacher. Considering the wealth of the Cui family of the Treasure Bottle Continent, hiring a gentleman or sage as a private tutor would have been easy. Therefore, the Cui family was extremely stingy with their payments.

The not-yet-old scholar didn’t blame his student. He squatted beside the boy on the doorstep, comforting him. “It’s no one’s fault. Blame the teacher for not being learned enough, displeasing your elders.”

Because at the end of the previous letter, the boy’s grandfather had given a question on the imperial examination essay, testing the scholar’s true talent.

The scholar burned the midnight oil, painstakingly writing an answer of over a thousand words, feeling like his entire reservoir of knowledge had been drained. He wasn’t good at such things. If he were, wouldn’t he have passed the imperial examination long ago? After the boy sent back a letter, the scholar immediately regretted it, worried that his future tuition and festival gifts would disappear with the courier.

The boy snatched the letter from the teacher’s hand, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it against the wall across the alley. The letter rolled back to his feet, infuriating the boy, who was about to stomp on it, but the teacher grabbed his arm. The boy sulked, “What’s the point of going back to that damned place? I’m never going back.”

“Don’t say such things.”

The scholar pulled the boy back to his spot, smacked his head, bent down, and picked up the letter from the ground, smoothing it gently. Opening it, he found two sheets of paper. One was the family letter, filled with the usual platitudes from elders, ending with, “Your teacher’s scholarship is ordinary, but his licentiate degree is probably genuine. His calligraphy is not bad.”

And the other sheet was a genuine silver note, worth a full hundred taels.

The scholar grinned from ear to ear. The boy beside him smiled brightly.

After that, the scholar managed to save some silver. The impoverished teacher, who had previously taught at a charity school, whose family had been so poor that they were left with only stacks of poorly printed books, opened his own school at the urging of his student, officially taking in students and teaching. He shifted from teaching elementary studies to imparting Confucian classics, which was what the scholar had always dreamed of. Teaching a bunch of toddlers about “Zhi hu zhe ye” every day wasn’t a good feeling. Was it because he felt he was disgracing the wisdom of the sages? Nonsense! It was because he earned so little!

In the following years, the scholar took on several more students. Among the four direct disciples, the eldest had always been his moneybag, staying with the scholar the longest. The second was a good-for-nothing loafer. The third had muscles but no money and a bottomless stomach. For several years, the scholar felt he had been swindled. Fortunately, the eldest brought back a child from somewhere – clever, intelligent, and likeable at first glance – a natural-born scholar. The most talented disciple seemed averse to the imperial examination and was stubborn. He couldn’t expect much from him. So, whether an official would emerge depended on this little disciple. Who else would he favor?

After that, the scholar finally lived the good life he had never dared to dream of.

Even his writings were published, although they didn’t sell well at the bookstore. In the end, only a few copies were sold. But for a scholar, it was equivalent to establishing his words, and he had a foundation for it. The scholar dared not ask for more.

Apart from Jun Qian, Cui Chan, Zuo You, and Qi Jingchun were all students he had watched grow from boys to young men.

Many years later, the scholar became an old scholar and finally took a closed-door disciple, Chen Ping’an.

As for the scholarship of the Literary Saint, astonishing and unparalleled, and his contribution to the Confucian lineage, like supporting the heavens…

Whether they praised or criticized him, the old scholar didn’t take it to heart. They could praise or criticize as they wished, each had their reasons. It wouldn’t stop him from being a teacher, a tutor to those few students.

But the one thing the old scholar couldn’t tolerate was his students being wronged. As a scholar, he would show them how a scholar could stand up for his dignity at the Confucius Temple.

The Embroidered Tiger, who had created the Rainbow Cloud Scheme and betrayed the lineage of the Literary Saint, had hidden himself in the Vast World for many years, wandering in destitution. He finally chose a northern barbarian land, his hometown of the Treasure Bottle Continent, as his base, serving as the national preceptor of the Great Li, to impart his scholarship and knowledge to a country and even a continent.

Cui Chan had never returned to the Cui family after returning to the Treasure Bottle Continent.

The old scholar knew why. Cui Chan was half guilty and half furious.

In the Great Li capital in a foreign land, National Preceptor Cui Chan named his library “Echoing Voices”.

The old scholar arrived at the top floor of a Cui family library. Above the top floor was a small attic that could only be accessed by a ladder.

The old scholar came to the window and looked outside.

People see birds chasing clouds, but none can catch them.
It was a good thing that Cui Dongshan was willing to volunteer to serve as the Lower Sect Master this time.

Dongshan would rise again.

Chen Ping’an and Xiao Mo walked out of the alley, heading towards the inn together.

Xiao Mo had been carefully observing the capital city of Dali.

This was the capital of a nation within the vast world, a place of utmost importance.

Perhaps this was the vision in his heart for the town at the foot of the mountain, the way it should be.

Xiao Mo asked, “Young Master, are there many cultivators at the fourteenth realm in this vast world nowadays?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head and said, “Regardless of the world, those above the Ascension Realm have always been few.”

If cultivators were viewed as one, regardless of race, only human or demon, the number of fourteenth realm cultivators would be found to be scarce, each for different reasons.

The existence of the Three Teachings Ancestors.

Bai Ze’s interception of true names.

Chen Ping’an planned to open a tavern on that night-sailing ship, welcoming guests from all directions.

Whether one could drink for free would depend entirely on their own abilities.

Regarding the name of the Lower Sect, Chen Ping’an had actually come up with a plethora of ideas.

This was probably the awkwardness of being too good at naming things.

Also, the matter of his natal porcelain needed to be settled.

In any case, it was just fourteen taels of silver.

Over at the inn not far away.

With his master and mistress not in the capital, Cao Mutou had said he was going to Naxun Ward to catch up with a fellow examinee who worked at the Court of State Ceremonial, while the Old Master Wen Sheng said he was going to bask in the sun by the door and wait for someone. Pei Qian was strolling alone in the courtyard, a two-courtyard residence with a small door opening in the southeast corner. It was actually the Liu old shopkeeper’s ancestral home, specially used to entertain wealthy guests who didn’t lack silver, such as those who came to the capital to run errands and seek connections, after all, it was close to Yichi Alley and Chier Street. The house was divided into east and west wing-rooms, the main room was currently vacant, Cao Qinglang lived in the east wing-room, and Pei Qian lived in the west wing-room opposite it.

Pei Qian seemed to be strolling, but in fact, she was practicing her stances, with superb skill, dropping her shoulders and elbows, and her qi flowing to her hands. She no longer needed to deliberately pay attention to the stances themselves, or the length of her breath, but every time a pure martial artist breathed in and out true qi, it was a major change in the internal mountains, rivers, qi reservoirs, and the alternation of day and night within her small world.

It was like an old Heavenly Lord who controlled the world, intentionally controlling the seasonal changes and weather variations of the mountains and rivers.

During her travels in Beiju Luzhou, she was actually practicing her stances at all times, unwilling to just wander around, which allowed Pei Qian to begin to have her own unique insights into the matter of stances.

The stance has no form, but the fist has divine intent.

This not-low evaluation was given by Li Er, not self-proclaimed by Pei Qian.

Therefore, in addition to feeding her fists on Mount Lion, Li Er also taught Pei Qian a breathing technique passed down from his own master, the circulation of a pure true qi, specifically used to regulate muscles and flesh.

The final fist theory that Li Er taught Pei Qian was extremely profound.

When the stance is up, it is as steady as towering mountains, and when the divine intent moves, it is like a raging river flowing.

This is the great pattern of mountains and rivers complementing each other, as long as one reaches the peak of boxing and the end of martial arts, then a pure martial artist is no longer just protected by a fist intent like a god, but “the body is the temple, and I am the god.”

This is the real stopping point, the peak, the so-called “divine arrival” after the tenth realm of Qi Sheng and Gui Zhen.

Pei Qian learned quickly, learning as soon as she was taught, and the key was being able to apply what she learned in the subtle details of daily life.

Therefore, Li Er would say a very honest word to Pei Qian, if we don’t talk about state of mind, your martial arts aptitude is even better than your master’s.

Pei Qian heard it, and not only did she not have any joy, but she also felt guilty. So much so that she felt that the senior Li Er, who was from the same hometown as her master, had extremely high skills in teaching and feeding fists, but his words were a little unreliable.

In the courtyard, besides Pei Qian, there was also a girl who had dreamed of the martial world since she was a child, a native of the capital, the precious daughter of the Liu old shopkeeper, named Lu Chai, nicknamed Taimi. She was currently sitting on a stool, with a washbasin and rag placed by her feet.

The girl usually helped her family with trivial tasks such as sweeping the courtyard and houses, and washing and drying bedding, earning some wages from her father to save money to buy those privately printed chivalric biographies, vernacular cases, and records of strange events that were filled with the fragrance of ink. It often made the girl exclaim, there are really endless new stories to buy, and no amount of money is enough to earn!

The girl’s name and nickname certainly didn’t sound like they came from a small merchant’s family. The old shopkeeper was a typical late-in-life daughter, both worried about his daughter’s needlework, which really didn’t follow her mother at all, and constantly being crazy and worried that she wouldn’t be able to marry. But when he thought about his daughter getting married one day, he couldn’t help but feel heartache. Anyway, the two sons in front of his daughter were both doing well and were filial, and his daughter was still young after all, far from the age of being targeted by those matchmakers, so the Liu old shopkeeper wasn’t worried.

The girl originally planned to use the pretense of taking a break here to secretly learn from that elder sister.

All the out-of-towners who stayed at the inn had official documents at the counter, but the girl didn’t go to look. The chivalrous men and women who galloped on horseback and acted righteously had to do things openly.

She only knew that she was the direct disciple of that out-of-town wanderer, the green-shirted swordsman.

A female knight, she would be one in the future too.

However, Liu Luchai saw that the young woman had her eyes closed, almost like sleepwalking.

After hesitating for a moment, the girl softly asked, “What is your surname, elder sister?”

Pei Qian opened her eyes and said, “Zheng Qian.”

The girl’s eyes shone with brilliance, “What a good name! It’s actually the same name as the Grandmaster Zheng I admire the most!”

There were two legends in the martial world, one was that Grandmaster Zheng was as beautiful as a flower, with a slender figure, but containing earth-shattering strength.

There was also a more amazing legend, saying that Zheng Sasan, although a young woman, was ten feet tall, burly and strong, with thick arms and a round waist. One or two punches, and any demon sword cultivator or demon martial artist would be reduced to ashes.

The girl seemed to have thought of something extremely interesting, and laughed so hard that she couldn’t stop, and finally managed to stop laughing, saying, “Elder sister Zheng Qian doesn’t have a martial name, called Pei Qian, does she?”
Her own inn was just a few steps away from Yichi Lane and Chi’er Street, so she often heard bits and pieces of news from the mountains and rivers, as well as rumors from the martial arts competition near the Fire God Temple. She even heard a new rumor that Zheng Qian was actually named Pei Qian and came from a place called Fallen Mountain. As for more tales of immortals and interesting anecdotes from the martial world, it was too noisy at the time, and the young girl strained her ears but couldn’t hear everything clearly.

*Paying* money? *Earning* money? Why do both names seem to be related to money?

Pei Qian smiled, saying nothing.

The girl smiled back, feeling her own words were a bit ridiculous.

“Sister Zheng Qian, have you read a certain book of landscape travelogues? It sold extremely well a few years ago. I was too late to buy it, and I regret it so much.”

Pei Qian said, “I’ve read it.”

As the eldest disciple, Pei Qian had read many of her master’s landscape travelogues, both inside and outside the books.

The girl asked curiously, “Are you practicing your fist?”

“It’s easy to throw a punch, but hard to master the stance. One difficulty lies in learning the footwork before learning the fist. Another difficulty lies in persistence, like water dripping to wear through stone.”

Pei Qian continued her stroll, humming in agreement. “My master said, ‘It takes two or three years of hard work to learn the fist, but only two or three days to lose it.'”

The girl jumped up excitedly. “I know, I know this principle! Whenever I pass by the martial arts hall, I can hear the sounds of sleeves clashing and shouts of ‘hah hah’ all day long. Then suddenly, they stomp their feet, making the ground tremble. According to the fist manual, this is called ‘bones twisted and sinews turned like firecrackers,’ right? The old saying in the fist manual goes, ‘The fist is like a tiger descending the mountain, the foot like a dragon stirring the sea.’ Sister Zheng Qian, how do you think my stance is? Can it be considered an entry level?”

Pei Qian was speechless and didn’t want to discourage the girl, so she pretended not to hear her nonsense.

As for the girl wandering around aimlessly, Pei Qian found it… surprisingly familiar, just like when she was a child.

Thinking of the way her master and old cook Wei Hailiang used to look at her, Pei Qian felt a little ashamed.

The problem was that Pei Qian no longer practiced her self-created Mad Demon Swordplay, but Xiao Mili had learned it.

Seeing that the girl showed no signs of stopping, Pei Qian finally stopped and said, “It’s easy to learn the fist, but hard to practice it. It’s easy to learn the form, but hard to grasp the intent. What does it mean to ‘enter the hall and enter the room’? It means to gain a sense of fist-intent, so that a martial artist like us is as if aided by the gods. The greatest skill is when the person controls the fist, not blindly following it, like giving orders to a deity. With a body full of fist-intent, any of the eighteen weapons in your hands will naturally be as easy to wield as your own limbs. Understand?”

The girl nodded quickly. “Of course! I don’t understand!”

Pei Qian smiled slightly. “There are thousands of fist forms in the world, hundreds of schools of fist principles, but the essence of the fist is one.”

The girl was bewildered. “What do you mean?”

Pei Qian narrowed her eyes and smiled. “With no one in front of you, martial arts has no second place.”

Her master had said that you can give way in anything, but not in martial arts advancement. When exchanging blows with someone, there should be no one else in your eyes. When climbing to the peak of martial arts, you should be oblivious to everyone else.

Moreover, Grandpa Cui had also said similar things.

The girl’s face flushed red, and she yearned for it. “Domineering! Absolutely!”

Pei Qian asked with a smile, “Why do you want to venture into the martial world so much?”

The girl sat back on the stool without hesitation. “It’s so free to be a martial arts hero! You don’t have to marry, and you can meet many strange people and things. Ideally, before going out into the world, you’d carry a big bag of gold melons and gold leaves, find a tavern by the roadside, stop your horse, drink your wine, throw out a large silver ingot, and say to the owner, ‘Keep the change!’ How heroic! That’s how it’s written in the books.”

Pei Qian smiled. “When you’re out in the world, unless you instantly hit it off with someone, don’t be too generous. First, not showing off wealth is a rule of the martial world. Second, real martial artists live a life of licking blood from the blade, and it’s not easy to earn money. In the books, the hero gets cut with a knife but doesn’t even frown. He just bandages the wound and continues on his way. Maybe you don’t even need to turn a page, and the hero has already recovered and is laughing and talking at another table. But everyone knows that it takes a hundred days to heal a bone fracture.”

The girl was stunned.

Pei Qian hesitated for a moment and said, “Try to slap yourself as hard as you can.”

The girl was completely baffled.

*Is she a martial arts swindler?*

*Is that how you teach the fist?*

But seeing that the young woman didn’t seem to be joking, the girl, in a moment of inexplicable impulse, actually slapped herself hard, making herself jump.

Seeing the unmoved Zheng Qian, the girl lowered her head. “I can’t do it, right?”

Pei Qian smiled. “At least you’re better than I was back then.”

Back in Old Dragon City, the female Daoist Huang Ting had manipulated Pei Qian’s bones, causing the little black charcoal to cry out in pain and scream loud enough to shake the heavens.

It pained someone so much that he immediately said, “No more practicing the fist! No more practicing the fist!”

The girl made up her mind. “Zheng Qian, I’ve thought it over. From today on, I won’t practice martial arts anymore!”

Pei Qian was a little surprised.

*Oh well, I really can’t be a master or some kind of preacher*. The situation with Little Mute A-Man was pretty much the same. This nominal eldest disciple of mine got along so well with Shopkeeper Shi Rou, they were clearly closer to each other than to me. Anyway, A-Man never gave Master a good look, being as taciturn as a little mute.

Pei Qian walked to the girl’s side, raised her palm, and gently rubbed the girl’s cheek, quickly dissipating the redness and swelling. She smiled and said, “The person you’re looking for is actually not far from you, so you don’t need to look for them in the martial world.”

The girl rubbed her face, not understanding what the other person was talking about at all, but she only knew that the Zheng Qian in front of her was definitely a heroine. She shouted loudly, “Sister Zheng Qian, I want to learn the fist!”

Pei Qian shook her head with a smile. “I’m still not proficient in my own skills, so I can’t teach you any advanced fist techniques.”

Besides, learning the fist is just too hard.

Cao Qinglang, who had been chatting with Old Shopkeeper Liu at the counter for a long time, came over to find Pei Qian to discuss something, but he stopped when he saw her “teaching the fist” and stood quietly in the corridor in the distance.

Since Little Senior Brother and Mister had both suggested that he retain his position as an editor at the Hanlin Academy, Cao Qinglang, not being an inflexible person, gave up his plan to resign.

Chen Pingan brought Xiao Mo to the residence. Cao Qinglang bowed and said, “Greetings, Mister.”

Chen Pingan nodded with a smile.
He was gentle and refined, courteous and polite, radiating vitality.

From this, one could see the excellent atmosphere of their own Falling Mountain.

Upon seeing the stranger, Liu Luchai immediately bid farewell to Pei Qian, picked up his washbasin, and left the residence.

Chen Ping An said to Cao Qinglang, “We’ll chat about something outside, it concerns you.”

Cao Qinglang immediately went to the main hall and brought out two chairs and a long bench.

He could sit with Pei Qian on the long bench.

Master and the unfamiliar guest would sit on the chairs.

The corridor under the eaves was wide enough for them to sit facing each other.

Xiao Mo thanked him before sitting upright with a solemn expression.

After Chen Ping An sat down, he noticed Pei Qian’s unusual behavior and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Although Pei Qian felt guilty, she honestly replied, “Earlier at the inn’s entrance, I couldn’t resist taking a peek at that young lady’s inner world.”

Chen Ping An smiled and nodded, “If you peeked, you peeked.”

Pei Qian looked surprised and asked doubtfully, “Master isn’t angry?”

Chen Ping An shook his head, “Before, the rules were strict because I was worried you’d go astray. Now, there’s no need to be so restrained. The Jianghu is treacherous, people’s hearts are unpredictable, you must protect yourself.”

At the age when rules needed to be established, Chen Ping An was uncompromising with Pei Qian, concerned that after learning martial arts, her punches would lack any sense of restraint or proportion. But once Pei Qian matured and had a clear understanding of right and wrong, she couldn’t be restricted too rigidly by the rules, unable to adapt to circumstances.

Pei Qian said, “Master, don’t worry, I’ll try my best not to make mistakes in the Jianghu from now on, and if I do, I’ll correct them.”

This was the first time Pei Qian spoke to her master like this since growing up.

It was hard to imagine that the Pei Qian before him was the little hedgehog who secretly compiled the “Chestnut Collection,” ready to prick anyone. It was also hard to imagine her as the “hard-working” little coal lump who pestered Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang to casually infuse her with twenty years of internal energy each.

Every principle was like a ferry crossing.

Perhaps only by reaching that ferry crossing in the future and witnessing certain events firsthand would one truly understand.

And some of the sage advice in books, the old sayings, the words and deeds outside of books, were like rest stops along the road.

Chen Ping An smiled, “Good, Master believes you.”

Then, Chen Ping An smiled and introduced Xiao Mo, “These two are my disciples, Pei Qian, a Mountain Peak Realm martial artist.”

“Cao Qinglang, the second scholar of the Great Li imperial examinations.”

Chen Ping An then introduced Xiao Mo to the two of them, “His Daoist name is Xizhu, but now he’s going by the name Mo Sheng, a swordsman from another land with a considerable cultivation. Of course, he’s a friend who became acquainted with Master through a misunderstanding. From now on, Mo Sheng will cultivate and practice swordsmanship on Falling Mountain, with the same background as your Senior Brother Liu. You can call him Senior Xizhu. Upon returning to his hometown this time, he will be included in the Jise Peak’s landscape records and serve as a nominal enshrined guardian of Falling Mountain.”

The two, one male and one female, had calm expressions, without the slightest hint of pretense.

One martial artist clasped his fist, and the scholar made a bow with hands folded.

It seemed that they didn’t have any emotional fluctuations regarding the妖族 origins of the Senior Xizhu before them, as if it were something they were quite accustomed to.

Xiao Mo didn’t even need to use any of his natal divine powers to clearly perceive the sincerity of the young man and woman before him.

Having already stood up, Xiao Mo slightly bent his waist, cupped his hands, and smiled, “I’m just a few years older, there’s no need to call me senior. How about you just call me Xiao Mo, like the young master does. I prefer the latter.”

Then, Xiao Mo began to rummage through his sleeves.

He had prepared two gifts for the first meeting.

Chen Ping An smiled, “No need, no need.”

Their own Falling Mountain already had a wealthy Chief Zhou, which was more than enough.

Moreover, Xiao Mo wasn’t like Jiang Shangzhen, who had a Cloud Cavern Paradise. Sending out a gift would only diminish his wealth.

Xiao Mo insisted, “Young Master, it’s just a small token of my appreciation, not a valuable gift.”

“Miss Pei and Little Master Cao are both the young master’s closest direct disciples. It wouldn’t be reasonable or appropriate if I didn’t have a gift for them. The young master has already refused those robes, so why not allow me to act like a senior this time on their behalf?”

Chen Ping An had no choice but to nod.

Xiao Mo would surely be very popular on Falling Mountain, like a fish in water, doing no worse than Chief Zhou.

Being skilled at persuading people to drink was the ability to distinguish superiority on the drinking table.

Liking to propose toasts, never avoiding them, and even finding wine for himself to drink, showed one’s character through one’s drinking habits.

It really did correspond to the old saying, “Birds of a feather flock together.” Xiao Mo was very similar to him.

His drinking habits were very strong, but his ability to persuade others to drink was a bit lacking.

Back at the wine shop, the Second Shopkeeper was recognized as someone who would dodge punches but never dodge wine.

As for the drunken ramblings of those gamblers and drunks, such as “Anyway, he’ll fall with one punch,” those drunken words on the table couldn’t be taken seriously.

Pei Qian and Cao Qinglang both looked at Chen Ping An at the same time.

Chen Ping An continued to nod.

Only then did Pei Qian and Cao Qinglang accept the gifts.

Chen Ping An could tell the value at a glance. They were two “Small Cave Heaven” storage treasures of even higher quality than the Close-at-Hand Object.

Even Chen Ping An, the owner of the Packet Shop, didn’t possess such a supreme treasure of the mountains, not even one.

The two thanked Senior Xizhu.

Xiao Mo smiled and didn’t say anything. Seeing that the two didn’t seem to have any intention of sitting down, Xiao Mo finally sat down.

These two children were very well-mannered.

Could it be that Fellow Daoist Lu was deceiving him? Deliberately portraying the simple and honest Old Lizhu Cave Heaven as a dangerous dragon’s den? Was it meant to be a surprise for him?

Xiao Mo couldn’t help but say in his heart, “Young Master, Miss Pei is so young, and she’s almost a Boundary Realm martial artist?”

The young lady was very respectful to her master. Fellow Daoist Lu was obviously joking with him again.

Chen Ping An didn’t reply telepathically, but smiled and said, “Pei Qian is indeed young, but in the Cloud Pattern Dynasty of the Savage Desolate World, there’s a woman named Bai Ren, who also seems to be about the same age. She reached the Boundary Realm at fifty years old, and according to Lu Chen, the female national preceptor of the Qing God Dynasty reached the Boundary Realm even younger.”

Pei Qian nodded.

Cao Qinglang, however, could clearly see the kind of smugness on his master’s face.

In fact, when Chen Ping An borrowed the Fourteenth Realm cultivator from Lu Chen, before leaving the Great Li capital, he had already seen the strangeness in Pei Qian, which made him, the master, both amused and exasperated.

Because Pei Qian was currently in an extremely mysterious state.

She was suppressing her realm!

It was something Chen Ping An had never even heard of.
A pure martial artist’s breakthrough is not something they can decide for themselves. Whether or not they can shatter the bottleneck is beyond their control. They must endure. And once the bottleneck breaks, whether or not they ascend to a higher realm is even more out of their hands. Moreover, among all the pure martial artists in the world, who would be like Pei Qian in this regard?

However, Xiao Mo is accustomed to battles, especially those fought at the mountain peaks. Thus, he has grown unfazed by many things.

Xiao Mo now finds himself even more curious about that Cao Qinglang.

Pei Qian currently practices her fists solely to suppress her realm.

She intends to choose a specific place and time to ascend to the Stillness Realm.

Chen Ping’an went straight to the point, directly sharing Cui Dongshan’s idea with Cao Qinglang.

Cao Qinglang’s answer was simple: “Teacher, in fact, this is for the best. I only reluctantly agreed to become the Lower Sect Leader before because it seemed like you and Junior Brother had already decided.”

Chen Ping’an chuckled, “Our Fallen Mountain isn’t a one-man show. It’s only natural for you to have your own thoughts about such a big matter. You should have told me directly back then… Never mind, this time it was the teacher’s oversight. I’ll pay more attention in the future, and so should you.”

Cao Qinglang nodded, “Understood.”

Chen Ping’an said with a hint of regret, “You could have been the youngest Sect Leader in the history of the Great Domain.”

Cao Qinglang didn’t want to dwell on the matter.

In the past, the Confucian Temple was strict, requiring Qi Refiners to be at least Jade Purity Realm to lead a sect – an iron rule.

For wild cultivators from remote mountains and marshes to reach the top five realms before the age of forty was practically a pipe dream.

Even for renowned immortals with deep foundations and orderly inheritances, becoming a Jade Purity Realm cultivator at that age was extremely difficult, a rare occurrence in the history of the Great Domain.

Furthermore, even if there were such cultivation geniuses, firstly, sects wouldn’t allow such talented individuals to waste their precious cultivation time on trivial sect affairs, as it would be too much of a loss. Secondly, even within large sects, even with lower branches, such a young Jade Purity Realm cultivator wouldn’t be directly suitable as the Lower Sect Leader. A Qi Refiner’s meteoric rise in cultivation could easily be derailed by a mountain of mundane issues.

Chen Ping’an rarely concerned himself with his own progress, even hoping to experience a few “realm drops” while traveling the world.

But it was different with Pei Qian and Cao Qinglang.

For example, when Cao Qinglang achieved second place in the Imperial Examination, Chen Ping’an, while pleased, couldn’t help but feel a bit dissatisfied. How could my student only be the second-place winner? Why not the champion?

So much so that during his visit to the capital, Chen Ping’an had to restrain himself from secretly visiting the Ministry of Rites archives to look at the examination paper of the new champion, to see if it might be his student’s work, but written in less formal calligraphy, causing the older examiners to overlook it, or perhaps the Emperor Song He deliberately lowered his ranking?

Cao Qinglang said, “Teacher, I just spoke with Xun Qu. He said you are very approachable, not in a fake, condescending way, but genuinely approachable.”

“Xun Qu isn’t the kind of person who likes to flatter anyone, nor is he deliberately relaying this to you for me. He’s willing to say this, meaning he truly admires you from the bottom of his heart. He also said that if he becomes a high-ranking official in the future, he would like to be like you, making people feel like a warm spring breeze, no matter who he is with.”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “That’s good then. It seems Xun Xu Ban didn’t think you chose the wrong teacher.”

Chen Ping’an was beginning to understand Fire Dragon Real Person’s feelings.

Being mistaken for Fire Dragon Real Person of Padi Peak, the former outsider Heavenly Master of Dragon Tiger Mountain, versus being mistaken as Zhang Shanfeng’s master, there was a subtle difference between the two.

Chen Ping’an softly said, “I’ve been pondering a problem for some time now. I won’t discuss the problem itself for now, but I will come back to discuss it with you when the time is right. In short, I may still manage more things on Fallen Mountain, both big and small. Whenever I see something amiss, I will address it. But in the future, I will likely relinquish more control over the Lower Sect, so being around Dongshan, you may encounter disagreements, or even arguments. He will be the Sect Leader, and also your Junior Brother, something you should consider before going to Tongye Continent.”

Chen Ping’an shook his head to himself, “Not likely, but certain.”

Cao Qinglang nodded, “Teacher, I’m not afraid of arguments, as long as they are not based on petty emotions, then they can be used to learn from each other and fill in the gaps.”

Chen Ping’an gave an affirmative sound, “Remember, it’s not just with your Junior Brother. In all matters, liking and being good at reasoning is one thing, but you must consider the emotions of others, stressing understanding the cause rather than focusing on the result. Do not fully endorse or reject others based on the outcome, whether it’s good or bad. Encountering difficulties and resolving them is cultivation.”

At this point, Chen Ping’an spread out his hands, gently clapped, and then faced his palms together, “When we praise someone for having tact, it’s actually about maintaining a proper and appropriate distance. Too far, and it’s estrangement. Too close, and it becomes easy to demand too much of them. So, we must give everyone we are close to some room, even room to make mistakes, as long as it doesn’t involve matters of great principle, we don’t need to dwell on it too much. Those who are meticulous often unintentionally seek perfection, but the problem is we are completely unaware of it, while those around us have already been hurt in many ways.”

“As the saying goes, a knowledgeable person must have insight into the subtle, but the opposite is also a good principle, those skilled in perceiving the subtle should also have an open mind.”

“Also, always tell yourself that no one is a clay Bodhisattva without a temper, everyone will have their own emotions, and emotions themselves are a form of reasoning. Many times, we appear to be reasoning with others, but when we truly and clearly see their emotions, and don’t feel like we are tolerating them, then that is when we have truly cultivated our hearts.”

Chen Ping’an folded his hands in his sleeves and asked with a smile, “Let me ask you, is it good to address the issue at hand?”

Cao Qinglang answered without hesitation, “Very good.”

Chen Ping’an then asked, “Have you ever thought that addressing the issue at hand, no matter how reasonable one side is, still negates the other side?”

Cao Qinglang paused, thought for a moment, and nodded, “Indeed, that’s true.”

Chen Ping’an said, “So, addressing the issue at hand is certainly a good thing, but what happens if someone is in the right, gets angry, glares, and raises their voice? The outcome is obvious. The reasoning itself is correct, but the act of reasoning is a failure.”

“True communication and reasoning is about learning to first acknowledge the other person.”
“You must first achieve a state of inner peace, and then use many affirmations to clearly articulate the one or two negations you truly wish to express.”

“Of course, all your words must remain sincere and genuine, not false. This is of utmost importance and must be placed even before ‘inner peace’.”

Cao Qinglang pondered carefully and nodded, “I understand the sequence of priorities you’ve outlined, Master.”

Chen Pingan, with his hands tucked into his sleeves, asked with a smile, “Think again. See if anything is missing?”

Cao Qinglang began to contemplate deeply.

Pei Qian, sitting on a bench nearby, hesitated to speak.

Chen Pingan looked at Pei Qian and nodded with a smile.

Pei Qian gathered her courage and said, “Master, this seems to be… a principle that only the strong can effectively convey.”

“For example, what if the party that is clearly in the wrong holds a higher position? They become impatient with anyone who tries to reason with them, immediately becoming hostile and glaring. What then?”

“Or, what if the head of a family down the mountain, or the mountain lord, sect leader, or disciplinary elder of a sect—these authority figures—don’t engage in such reasoning? It seems that Master’s principle would be difficult to clarify.”

“Master, I’m just speaking casually.”

Pei Qian’s confidence dwindled as she spoke, her voice growing softer.

Finally, Pei Qian scratched her head, feeling embarrassed, and said, “I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

Chen Pingan, however, gave Pei Qian a thumbs up, “Exactly. That is the crux of the matter.”

Then Chen Pingan asked, “So, Pei Qian, Cao Qinglang, do you think you can become strong? Or do you hope to become strong? Or do you think you are strong now? Is the distinction between strong and weak determined by comparing yourselves to me, or to a temporarily less powerful speck of dust, or to the child Bai Xuan? Or to whom?”

Pei Qian’s eyes lit up, and she nodded vigorously, “I understand!”

Cao Qinglang stood up, bowed to his master, but said nothing.

Pei Qian didn’t want to stand up and clasp her hands in response; it seemed inappropriate. She glared at Cao Qinglang beside her.

Sycophant!

In Fallen Mountain, this guy’s flattery was the most deeply hidden.

Chen Pingan murmured, “All matters of the world, seek not externally.”

Cao Qinglang suddenly asked, “Master, are you worried that many people in Fallen Mountain and its subsidiary sect will, in the future, act and speak too much like you?”

Chen Pingan smiled knowingly, worthy of being his prized disciple, and nodded, “There is such a concern.”

When a sect bears the strong personal imprint of its founder, it naturally leads to imitation from above to below. This has both advantages and disadvantages.

However, Chen Pingan still hoped that, whether it was the current Fallen Mountain or the future Tongye Continent subsidiary sect, even if they were to eventually be divided into ancestral hall disciples, inner disciples, and temporarily unranked outer disciples, each person’s life could be different, each with their own beauty.

Xiao Mo sat to the side, listening attentively from beginning to end, admiring her young master immensely for his orderliness, deconstruction, meticulousness, and reintegration.

She felt increasingly that she was a rough person and had much to learn from her young master. However, by her young master’s side, it seemed that learning would truly be endless.

Chen Pingan stood up and said, “You two go back to Fallen Mountain and wait for me.”

Pei Qian was a little worried.

She had a general idea of ​​her master’s current situation.

Chen Pingan waved his hand and left the inn with Xiao Mo.

During his previous travels to the south, Chen Pingan had crafted a wooden food box from materials from Yuzhang County. Now he planned to go out and buy some pastries and a pot of wine in the capital, which would cost a total of fourteen taels of silver.

Then he would take a trip to the Dali imperial palace.

If they didn’t drink a toast, they’d drink a forfeit.