This trip to the ferry landing proved quite fruitful. Pei Qian discovered, amongst bundles of cheaply sold books, a batch of confidential palace examination papers. These were authentic, unique drafts of the imperial examinations, compiling the examination essays of nearly a hundred top scholars, each with vibrant vermilion annotations, the Emperor’s own decree of “First Rank, First Place.” Besides the main policy essays, they included the official titles and names of the readers. Though the dragon aura was faint, having dissipated significantly, the literary spirit was rich, making it a genuine treasure find.

Chen Ping’an perused several of the oldest and newest examination papers, casually memorizing a string of official titles and names.

At that moment, a lean, scholarly old man standing beside the shop was dumbfounded, seemingly overwhelmed by Chen Ping’an’s luck. After hesitating for a long while, he inquired whether Chen Ping’an would consider selling the examination papers to him.

Chen Ping’an shook his head and smiled, “Esteemed elder, I must decline.”

The old man laughed magnanimously, “A gentleman does not seize what another cherishes. I was presumptuous.”

Besides, he himself didn’t have much money. He had come to this mountain ferry merely for leisure; how could he afford to bargain with these mountain immortals? He had three immortal coins – Snowfall, Lesser Heat, and Grain Rain, one of each – gifts from the new Emperor, which he intended to keep as heirlooms.

Xiao Mo whispered in Chen Ping’an’s mind, “Young Master, that old gentleman seemed particularly interested in the more recent examination papers. When he saw some of the names on them, his emotions fluctuated greatly.”

Chen Ping’an said, “The old gentleman carries a heavy aura of officialdom and the battlefield. Perhaps he recognized his own name and those of his colleagues on the examination papers.”

He then noticed a pair of tortoise-dragon knob seals, both without inscriptions on the sides, which captivated him at first sight.

Contentment. Recognizing one’s shortcomings.

The seals lacked a strong metallic energy and bore no famous signatures, so they would certainly be cheap. However, they weren’t sold separately but as bonuses, requiring the purchase of a more valuable item.

Coincidentally, Chen Ping’an had also taken a fancy to a purple clay Shi Piao teapot, engraved with “The azure bird’s homeland in the clouds, the dragon’s world beneath the sea.” He planned to buy it as a casual gift for someone.

The shop priced it at thirty Snowfall coins. Nowadays, on the Tongye Continent, any mountain artifact even slightly touched by spiritual energy, especially with a dash of embellished “immortal dwelling” tales, would fetch an exorbitant price, with rampant price gouging and relentless competition.

Actually, it was overpriced, but considering he was at his own ferry landing, well, he’d play along and be a patron for once.

Just as Chen Ping’an reached for the teapot, someone bumped his shoulder and snatched it away, shouting loudly to the shopkeeper, “Name your price!”

Chen Ping’an didn’t argue, letting the man pay for the teapot. He moved over and picked up a three-colored jade bracelet symbolizing fortune, prosperity, and longevity, priced at ten Snowfall coins.

Unexpectedly, a companion of the burly man reached out. Chen Ping’an gently raised his elbow, lifting the man’s wrist, and smiled, “This isn’t how you buy things.”

In fact, Chen Ping’an had already detected a clue. Among these people was a half-baked geomancer, secretly using a crude treasure-locating plate to roughly determine the flow of wealth. Due to the presence of the longevity-blessed Law-Keeper in his Fallen Mountain, Chen Ping’an was touched by a bit of fortune, leading the geomancer to mistakenly believe that whatever Chen Ping’an chose would be profitable. This, coupled with the earlier batch of confidential examination papers, made them want to buy everything Chen Ping’an picked up.

This was actually a common occurrence in the antique trade.

Chen Ping’an was determined not to part with the bracelet, as he already knew who to give it to.

The half-baked geomancer holding the treasure-locating plate smiled, “Young brother, I advise you to part with it. Even mountain immortals, when traveling far from home, in high mountains and deep waters with strong winds, must be careful.”

Beside this cave realm immortal stood a stalwart, pure martial artist, wearing a saber and a government waist牌.

If cultivation levels were suppressed to Fourth Realm, this would be a Peak Mountain Grandmaster.

Pei Qian whispered to her master, “These people are offerings from the old Great Xia Dynasty in the south. But now that the dynasty has collapsed, there are three claimants to the throne – a prince and two generals – all vying for legitimacy. These three factions have been sending people out to plunder wealth for years, using similar methods. They are all cut from the same cloth, none better than the others. But these offering plates are all old palace items, so I can’t tell which faction they belong to…”

Pei Qian suddenly attacked when someone dared to reach out and grab her waist. Pei Qian smashed an elbow into the person’s face, sending them flying out of the shop.

The geomancer shouted angrily, “Be careful, it’s a demon!”

The shopkeeper paled in fear. The Tongye Continent was riddled with holes and suffering, ravaged by those demon races from the Barren World in recent years. He yelled towards the door, “Quickly send a message to Lingbi Mountain!”

In the past, every year during the Qingming Festival, the ancestral graves were adorned with paper ash flying like white butterflies. Now, as the sun sets, foxes and rabbits sleep atop the mounds. Few descendants visit the graves; only countless new ghosts cry with the old.

Having received the geomancer’s mental message, the burly man who had snatched the teapot roared, his clothes bursting open, revealing a dragon tattooed on one shoulder and a tiger descending the mountain on the other.

The old gentleman who remained in the shop said sternly, “Such jokes are not to be made.”

Pei Qian turned to look at her master. Chen Ping’an nodded, indicating she could act as she pleased.

And so, this group of honored guests from the old Great Xia Dynasty went to lie down and enjoy themselves outside the door.

Chen Ping’an put away the jade bracelet into his sleeve, then picked up the pair of seals. Finally, he placed ten Snowfall coins on the counter, turned to the old gentleman, and cupped his fist, “Thank you.”

The old gentleman smiled, “A mere triviality.”

Afterward, the old gentleman spoke with a deeper meaning, “When the immortals of Lingbi Mountain arrive later, I can try to explain on your behalf. But whether it can be fully explained depends on the Lingbi Mountain immortals themselves.”
The old man’s words were layered with meaning. He was implying that if their mountain’s lineage held enough renown, this matter could be easily resolved. Otherwise, it would become incredibly troublesome. To be labeled as a demon clan cultivator by a Qi Refinement master employed by the imperial family was something Spirit Wall Mountain couldn’t bear. If they couldn’t come to an agreement at the shop today and a fight broke out, it might even alarm the Great Fu Academy, who would dispatch a virtuous gentleman or sage to verify their identities. Of course, if it was later proven that Spirit Wall Mountain had intentionally made a false accusation, the repercussions would be severe.

A young and robust attendant by the old man’s side hesitated, concerned that his master might be inviting unnecessary trouble.

After receiving the news, the Ancestral Hall of Spirit Wall Mountain dared not take it lightly. The old mountain master, along with one Golden Core and two Dragon Gate cultivators, hurriedly rode the wind to Wild Cloud Ferry, as if facing a formidable enemy, standing near the shop’s entrance.

After the old man announced his identity, Xiao Mo chuckled in his mind, “Young Master is truly prescient.”

For this old teacher, who had rendered great service to the nation, was indeed one of the examiners from the palace examinations, and held a rather lengthy title: Junior Guardian of the Heir Apparent, Grand Tutor of the Heir Apparent, Minister of Rites, Grand Scholar of the Wenhua Hall.

He was a scholar of the purest lineage, with disciples throughout the court. The old man did not follow the late emperor to that new world, but remained in his hometown, spending many years on the battlefield, and in recent years, he had fended off border incursions from the old Great Xia Dynasty and several neighboring countries. Now, he had retired and was returning home, free from worldly affairs, intending to appreciate the mountain scenery. The only flaw was his empty purse.

The people of Spirit Wall Mountain were obviously aware of the old man’s identity, but they still didn’t dare to be careless. If they really missed a group of demon clan cultivators, given the temper of the new mountain master of the Great Fu Academy, Spirit Wall Mountain could be directly sealed off for a century.

Chen Ping An communicated directly with his mind, “We are from Immortal Capital Mountain.”

The Golden Core patriarch of Spirit Wall Mountain cautiously asked, “Are you fellow disciples of Immortal Cui?”

The generous young man in white, now the behind-the-scenes owner of Wild Cloud Ferry, had previously visited Spirit Wall Mountain, claiming to be from Azure Peak of Immortal Capital Mountain, surnamed Cui.

Chen Ping An smiled and nodded.

Almost causing a friendly fire incident, this was a bit awkward. The three old ancestors of Spirit Wall Mountain didn’t know what to say for a moment.

Without much polite conversation with the three Celestial Masters, he simply told Spirit Wall Mountain that if they were concerned about hidden dangers from today’s farce, they could send a flying sword message to the Great Fu Academy.

Chen Ping An retrieved the large stack of palace examination papers and handed them to the old man, smiling, “As the old gentleman said, a gentleman does not take what others love.”

The old man was extremely forthright, taking the palace examination papers and laughing loudly, “May I ask the Immortal Master, what is the price?”

Chen Ping An waved his hand, “A thousand gold cannot buy a few words of justice.”

The old man nodded with a smile, “Then I won’t stand on ceremony with the Immortal Master.”

After leaving the shop and walking along the ferry bank, Chen Ping An glanced at Cao Qinglang and asked with a smile, “Is there something you want to say?”

Cao Qinglang replied, “This student has just understood.”

With Lord Ji Mountain, the teacher would still test them, that was because the teacher considered it his own matter. But with the Immortal Master of Spirit Wall Mountain, the teacher intentionally or unintentionally revealed his identity early on, otherwise the other party might have a pure sect style, or they might reveal an ugly face, or they might be superficially agreeable but act cautiously, or they might rather kill by mistake than let go, and directly take action. In short, there would be a hundred possibilities. However, the teacher did not act in such a way, apparently, according to the agreement, he really handed over all the affairs of the lower sect to the Junior Brother.

The attendant beside the old man said, “Old Master, their background is very impressive. They were able to get Spirit Wall Mountain to release them without saying a word.”

The old man smiled and simply said, “The flavor of the Hanlin Academy.”

Having served as the Minister of Rites for many years and presided over numerous imperial examinations, everyone in the court said that he was like a peach and plum tree that, though silent, had a path naturally formed beneath it; in official circles, they said his disciples were all over the world.

But what about now?

The old man was still there, but those disciples, so many young people, full of spirit, full of vigor, full of literary talent, were now truly unable to speak.

In a place of scenic beauty, they passed a temple at the foot of a mountain outside the county town and entered the temple to burn incense.

Upon entering the temple, there was a plaque that read “Do not seek outwardly,” and a plaque hanging in the main hall that read “Attain Great Freedom.”

As visitors entered the temple to burn incense, monks were also leaving.

Generally speaking, temples, once they have established their rules, no longer allow individual monks to wander; they wait until the end of the summer retreat before going out to study. When wandering monks arrive at a temple, they go to the main hall to worship the Buddha, and they only need to look at the statue of Bodhisattva Skanda to know whether the temple is a “ten-direction forest,” open to all, or a “descendant forest” offering only one night’s lodging and two meals. This Zen temple had Bodhisattva Skanda standing with his left hand in a single upright palm and his right hand holding the Vajra杵in front of his chest, which meant it was a half-ten-direction, half-descendant Buddhist forest; wandering monks could stay there for three days but should not settle down permanently.

These conventional Buddhist rules did not require the temple’s guest monk to remind visiting monks.

Passing through the Hall of Heavenly Kings, Chen Ping An and Cao Qinglang each took three incense sticks outside the Great Hero Hall and placed them in the incense burner.

However, the student held the incense with his left hand, while the teacher held it with his right.

Only Pei Qian, after offering incense outside the hall, went inside to kneel and kowtow.

Xiao Mo did not offer incense, but only looked at the Buddha statues enshrined inside the hall.

The world sees the Buddha but cannot attain it, so they create statues to see it.

But this “young man” in a yellow hat, green shirt, and green bamboo staff had seen the true Buddha.

Afterward, the group passed through the Great Hero Hall and went up the steps on the left. During this time, they passed the Medicine Buddha Hall and finally returned to the mountain gate from the right side of the Sutra Depository.

Suddenly, it started to rain, and Chen Ping An stood in the corridor waiting for the rain to stop. The rain was astonishingly heavy, but it didn’t look like it would last long.

For some reason, in the heavy rain, a woman with a child was kneeling outside the mountain gate.

And in the temple hall, a middle-aged monk was kneeling on a prayer mat, his head lowered and his hands clasped together, tears streaming down his face.

Cao Qinglang wanted to take an oiled paper umbrella from the “small cave heaven” given by Xiao Mo and give it to the woman and child, to shelter them from the rain.

Chen Ping An shook his head.

After the woman got up, Chen Ping An told Pei Qian something, and Pei Qian walked over with an umbrella, holding it in one hand.

The woman quickly wiped the corners of her eyes, her smile gentle, and pulling the child along, she thanked the kind-hearted girl.
Since the onset of winter this year, the Tongye Continent has been in turmoil. The central region, once a scene of devastation, experienced heavy snowfall even before the minor snow season.

The frigid weather has led to the proliferation of ice houses near the mountains, where underground cellars are carved out to store ice for retrieval during the next summer.

Within the former territory of the Great Xia Dynasty, two cavalry armies have engaged in a bloody internecine conflict.

Behind one of the armies, a young man in ornate armor is imploring a Nascent Soul Realm cultivator to intervene swiftly and turn the tide of battle. He argues that against mere martial men, the immortal master’s boundless techniques would ensure a swift and decisive victory, a feat worthy of a national teacher’s position, silencing any opposition in the imperial court…

The old immortal stroked his beard in silence, but eventually, unable to refuse further, he ascended into the clouds, wielding two natal treasures, both offensive and defensive, their radiant light illuminating half the battlefield. The old immortal unleashed his magic, quickly securing a significant victory. As his spells struck, the old cultivator, reassured by the abundant spiritual energy, was about to unleash one last trump card before withdrawing. However, he was met with a barrage of bolts from a mountain-forged ballista hidden within the enemy lines. The volley shattered the protective mountain-and-river barrier. As the old cultivator attempted a hasty retreat, he was ambushed by a pure martial artist concealed within the formation. With a massive bow, the martial artist unleashed a volley of arrows, each inscribed with cloud-patterned runes. The arrows arced through the air, seemingly guided by fate, and before the old cultivator could react, his chest was pierced by several coin-sized projectiles.

Beyond the battlefield, atop a mountain peak.

Seeing the scene unfold, Pei Qian remarked, “For cultivators to enter the battlefield seeking merit is not difficult. But to attempt to single-handedly decide the outcome of a battle, slaughtering soldiers at will, is a path that can only be taken once.”

Cao Qinglang nodded in agreement.

Chen Pingan remained expressionless.

Xiao Mo seemed lost in thought.

As snow fell, near an ancient bridge, several old plum trees stood white and pure, a scene of exquisite beauty between plum blossoms and snow.

At one end of the long bridge, a scholar of advanced years, seemingly leading a group of students on a scholarly pilgrimage, paused to admire the scenery.

In reality, he was a Domain Realm cultivator in his twilight years, sharing ethereal tales of immortals with his disciples, discussing the importance of dharma, companionship, resources, and location on the path of cultivation. He spoke of Earth Immortals, who could live for thousands of years yet retain youthful appearances, moving with lightness and ascending to ethereal heights, achieving immortality, entering blessed lands and sacred grottoes, traversing the five lakes and four seas, and guarding the five peaks and myriad mountains.

His words filled the young disciples, who had only recently joined the sect, with vigor and longing.

The old cultivator gently brushed snow from the bridge railing, and chuckled: “There are countless lineages on the mountain, and disciples can seek out and learn hundreds of skills. But the path of the sword immortal is unique. Masters always choose disciples, the reverse is impossible. Sword immortal selection is a trial higher than the heavens, they’d rather lose the lineage than pass it down lightly…”

A young disciple nodded: “No wonder there are so few sword immortals under the heavens.”

A girl beside him glared: “Don’t interrupt Master’s words.”

The old cultivator brushed snow from the railing, letting it fall on the ice below the bridge. “It has been passed down since ancient times, true sword immortals possess supreme swordsmanship, obtaining the creation of Heaven and Earth, and thus disdain relying on magical weapons. As long as they refine a sword pellet, it possesses the wonder of a divine dragon’s transformations. Using a clear and quiet Dao heart as a vessel, the empty and pure chamber shines like the sun and moon, capable of taking a head from a thousand miles away…”

The disciples were enraptured, except for the young man who liked to cause trouble, who couldn’t resist interrupting again: “Grand Uncle, last time we met your old friend from the mountain, we begged for a long time, but he wouldn’t part with that mountain and water gazette. Didn’t he say there’s a place called Sword Qi Great Wall? The gazette said the place isn’t big, but everyone is a sword immortal. How do the old sword immortals accept new sword immortals as disciples?”

The old cultivator’s smile remained unchanged, though inwardly he grumbled, *Why did Senior Brother accept such a disciple? Is his family busy building houses, that he likes tearing things down so much?*

In truth, the old man had only recently learned of a place called Sword Qi Great Wall from his friend’s mountain and water gazette.

Across the bridge, a group of people crunched towards them through the snow.

The old cultivator turned to look. A man in a blue robe walked at the front, clutching a snowball in his hands. He was accompanied by three others, all appearing young.

The young man whispered, “Grand Uncle, quickly use your magic, open some kind of heavenly eye, and help me see if there are any sword immortals among those people looking for disciples.”

The old cultivator chuckled in amusement, “Go ask them yourself!”

The two groups passed each other on the ancient bridge.

The old cultivator smiled and nodded in greeting, and the blue-robed man with the double knives at his waist smiled and returned the greeting.

After the group had moved away, the young man said, “Grand Uncle, I bet there are no sword immortals. Their footsteps made noise; they’re not treading the snow without a trace.”

The old cultivator ignored the young man and continued to recount the strange and wonderful things on the mountain, as well as tales of immortals and gods—stories he had heard secondhand himself.

In the Mirage City of the Daquan Dynasty, the snowfall transformed the city into a resplendent wonderland, blurring the line between heaven and earth.

A group of travelers from afar were presenting their travel documents at the city gate.

Cao Mo, Zheng Qian.

As for Cao Qinglang and Xiao Mo, they were using household registration identities from the Great Li Dynasty.

Once the Lower Sect was established, Cao Qinglang would receive an additional Golden Jade Register identity as a cultivator from the Tongye Continent.

After exiting the city gate, Xiao Mo asked, “Young Master, it’s uncommon for women to be emperors in the Vast World, right?”

Empresses acting as regents behind the curtain were much more common.

The Daquan Emperor was Yao Jinzhi.

Chen Pingan nodded, “Very rare.”

Recalling something, Chen Pingan said to Cao Qinglang, “Currently, the chief consecrator of the Daquan Dynasty is Liu Zong, the knife sharpener from your homeland. Last time, Pei Qian and I saw Liu Zong here, he was still at the Golden Body Realm bottleneck, but that was because Old Guan purposefully made it harder for Liu Zong to break through than an ordinary martial artist.”

Pei Qian pursed her lips.

Cao Qinglang glanced at her.

He had heard Mi Li say that Pei Qian had accompanied the good Mountain Master through the Daquan Dynasty, where a whole slew of stories had unfolded.

Pei Qian immediately narrowed her eyes. Was he going to snitch again?
The group found an immortal inn in Mirage City to stay, called Apricot Blossom Pavilion, located in an excellent and quiet area amidst the hustle and bustle.

Birds have bird paths, snakes have snake routes. Mountain ferries and immortal wharves often have booklets that introduce inns along the way, given to guests free of charge. Detailed descriptions praising the inns to the heavens often indicated a deep relationship, while brief mentions meant the inn and the wharf or ferry didn’t have a strong connection.

Actually, the most famous inn in the Great Spring Dynasty was Peach Blossom Villa near Peach Leaf Ferry.

It was said to be the first choice for female cultivators from the continent, even if they had to pool their money to stay there.

Upon entering the inn’s gate, the first thing that caught the eye was a screen wall, ten yards high, with koi and lotuses that seemed to be alive.

Chen Pingan stopped, admiring it for a moment. If the nameless inn in Great Li capital had this kind of care, it wouldn’t be so desolate and empty.

They took four rooms, and Chen Pingan asked the inn for a stack of recent gazettes about mountains and rivers. Xiao Mo and the others stayed in the rooms, sitting around the table.

Only Cao Qinglang was drinking tea, the other three were drinking wine.

Regarding Jade Tablet Sect, there were many trivial matters, but they took up a lot of space, which was the power of the leading immortal sect in the continent.

Previously, it was a north-south confrontation, with Tongye Sect steadily suppressing Jade Tablet Sect. Now, it was undoubtedly the sole leader, while Tongye Sect was like a solitary boat on the continent’s map, practically closed off.

Chief Zhou’s Rouge List of Flower Goddess Mountain was described differently in almost every gazette. Whether they approved of the fairies’ rankings or not, they would take the opportunity to scold Jiang Shangzhen again.

In addition, there were news about the Qinghu Palace’s elixirs and the sword questioning at the Little Dragon Pool.

There were also many courts recruiting for service after their restoration, seeking cultivators or martial artists through the gazettes. The Ministry of Rites of each country issued official documents, similar to heroic invitation letters in the martial world.

There was a lot of gossip about Treasure Bottle Continent, such as the ceremony at their own Fallen Mountain, all written wildly.

Xiao Mo took a gazette and said, “This Tongye Sect seems to be a bit annoying. At least it’s a sect, how could its end be so miserable?”

Chen Pingan laughed, “Over-praising with all efforts, and hitting to death with one stick. In fact, it’s often not as good as it seems, nor as bad as it seems. It’s just that people don’t feel the burden of others, and they just want to see a lively scene. But our Chief Zhou has a good saying,”

Xiao Mo nodded, “Although I haven’t met Chief Zhou, I already admire him.”

In Fallen Mountain, Chief Zhou’s reputation was universally praised, inside and out.

Chen Pingan held back, but couldn’t resist, and laughed out loud. He quickly took a sip of wine, and then said something that confused Xiao Mo, “Our Chief Zhou will definitely be worried after returning home, it’s okay, he likes spending money the most, lest he become complacent after becoming the chief consecrator.”

Chen Pingan still wanted to see more news about the Great Spring Dynasty from the gazettes. For example, there was a rumor that was very certain and mysterious.

Yao Lingzhi lost a sword.

The heads of the Ministry of Justice, the Censorate, and the Court of Revision, the three main judicial organs of the Great Spring Dynasty, were exhausted and worried when they met. As for the vice ministers of the Ministry of Justice, the censors of the Censorate, and the judges of the Court of Revision, the so-called small three judicial organs, they had held several meetings, and the three departments were in turmoil, but they dared not reveal any information to the outside world.

This matter was neither big nor small. It was a case of the theft of a magic weapon-grade treasured sword, but it was also not small, because the sword was a treasure of the previous dynasty, with unusual symbolic significance.

In the officialdom, the most troublesome thing was this kind of thing, figuring out the emperor’s mind. Yao Lingzhi’s saber had a great origin, it was a national treasure hidden in the Great Spring Dynasty’s treasury for more than two hundred years, named “Famous Spring”. And the founding emperor of the Great Spring Liu family, rose from humble beginnings, belonged to a military general who usurped the throne and established the country, and was suspected of not obtaining the country in a proper manner. Especially this founding emperor, personally killed the last emperor of the previous dynasty with a sword.

Chen Pingan had seen the “Famous Spring” in Mirage City last time. It was a treasure given by the current emperor to his imperial sister Yao Lingzhi, indeed a magic saber with excellent quality, a wooden scabbard covered with green shark skin, and the hilt inlaid with treasures, worthy of the saying “priceless”, naturally suppressing ghosts and monsters.

According to the fragmented words in the gazette, in the end, the governor Yao Xianzhi, seemed to have suddenly changed his temper, from a drunkard to being diligent and conscientious, personally discussed with His Majesty the Emperor, and took charge of the matter, which made the three departments that were assisting him, breathe a sigh of relief. Even if the sky fell, there was the governor to support them. Moreover, the governor had methods for the dispatch of enshrined cultivators and constables, making the capital area inside and outside Mirage City, internally tight and externally relaxed, without disturbing the people, and orderly dispatch. This made the capital officials unanimously remember one thing, this prince of the first rank wearing the governor’s official hat, was once a Yao family child who joined the army when he was young, and the reason for his broken arm and lame leg, was the result of the battlefield.

Xiao Mo said, “If Young Master can draw a picture of ‘Famous Spring’, I can try to help that Governor Yao find the whereabouts of this treasure, and after finding it, secretly return it to the Governor’s office, and leave a letter to explain the origin and reason.”

Pei Qian smiled, “Like a chivalrous knight who does good deeds without leaving a name.”

Cao Qinglang put down the gazette in his hand and said, “Senior Xizhu, this matter does not rule out a possibility, that the Great Spring Emperor did it intentionally. If the ‘Liu clan deposed emperor’ was in power, such a thing would of course be bigger than the sky, but now that the Yao clan is in charge of the country, a national treasure that already belongs to the previous dynasty, losing it, may not be a bad thing. Just like what is written in the gazette, there are songs circulating in Mirage City, saying that a watchman personally saw, a sword light, turned into a monstrous dragon, and escaped from the capital.”

Unlike Pei Qian, who would directly call Xiao Mo, or Mr. Xiao Mo, Cao Qinglang still insisted on respectfully calling Xiao Mo Senior Xizhu.

Xiao Mo smiled and nodded, raised his wine bowl, and drank it all in one gulp.

Cao Qinglang raised his bowl, replacing wine with water.

Chen Pingan said, “I will take Xiao Mo to Yao’s mansion immediately. Pei Qian, Cao Qinglang, the two of you can wander around Mirage City at will.”
Having journeyed to the Yao estate previously, Chen Ping’an and Cui Dongshan had each expended their own accumulated merit to create talismans, affixing them inside and outside the residence. This ensured the Old General Yao could preserve his vital energy and slumber soundly, while they awaited Chen Ping’an’s success in procuring a life-extending elixir. However, Cui Dongshan had also explicitly informed the Yao family of two matters at the time: even if a mountain elixir were obtained, Old General Yao’s extended lifespan would be limited. Secondly, the Yao family would need to provide payment for the elixir; not even a single copper coin could be omitted. This was a matter of principle, akin to the offering of incense money at a temple, which could not be borrowed from outsiders.

This time, Chen Ping’an had brought two elixirs.

They were procured by his teacher from Fu Lu Yu Xuan and Celestial Master Zhao Tianlai of Dragon Tiger Mountain, two life-extending elixirs most suitable for mortals.

The Old Master Scholar generally didn’t haggle with the wealthy, but he wasn’t excessively greedy in this matter. It wasn’t that the Old Master Scholar, having regained his identity as a Literary Saint, couldn’t obtain more elixirs, nor that Old Yu and the Celestial Master’s Mansion lacked greater stores. It was simply that mountain cultivators, in their pursuit of longevity and immortality, were already engaging in a form of defiance. Borrowing elixirs to extend life was a taboo, though a minor one. However, for a mortal nearing the end of their lifespan, attempting to “add oil” through external objects was fraught with numerous restrictions.

Firstly, the ebb and flow of a person’s spirit and vital essence wasn’t like a cultivator’s accumulation of heaven and earth spiritual energy, which could be replenished after use. Especially for those elderly individuals nearing their final days, their entire being’s vital essence flowed like a mighty river rushing into the sea, never to return.

Therefore, many blessed individuals, the elderly, often sensed their impending demise. Particularly, esteemed monks and virtuous masters of the Buddhist Dragon Elephant tradition, and enlightened Daoist adepts, could even accurately predict the specific hour.

It was akin to briefly pausing at the juncture of land and sea, gazing back—the so-called “final radiance before death.”

Furthermore, when mountain cultivators extended the lives of mortals, it was somewhat akin to robbing Peter to pay Paul, diminishing the ancestral blessings and good fortune of the elixir’s recipient. Therefore, the true wonder of these two elixirs lay in their use of accumulated merit as a key ingredient, capable of adding just over a year to Old General Yao’s lifespan, amounting to an extended and amplified “final radiance.” This was already the limit.

Xiao Mo suddenly spoke, “Young Master, if my guess is correct, that Prefect will soon arrive.”

Chen Ping’an still rose to his feet, saying, “I’ll go to the Yao estate after meeting him.”

At the entrance, he encountered Yao Xianzhi, his face no longer covered in stubble. Although the Capital Prefect appeared somewhat weary, his eyes shone brightly, like those of his younger days.

As they walked out of the alley together, Chen Ping’an told Yao Xianzhi about the elixirs. The limping Yao Xianzhi didn’t even utter a word of politeness; what need was there for formality with Master Chen?

The inability to address him as “Brother-in-law” remained a lifelong regret.

Yao Xianzhi softly said, “Master Chen, I’ve assisted in the investigation; there’s no Si Ru Temple with a resident monk as you described in North Jin.”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “True monks with genuine Buddhist understanding can only be encountered by chance.”

During their last reunion, Yao Xianzhi had resolved many knots in his heart and finally decided not to return to the borderlands to resume his old life on horseback. He would continue to serve as the Capital Prefect, but Chen Ping’an had to reserve a position as a lower sect devotee for him.

The young emperor of North Jin revered Buddhism. It was said that one night, while lodging at a Chan temple, he was visited by a supernatural being in a dream, who imparted to him an ancient and long-lost Ritual Text of Land and Water.

At the beginning of spring this year, the emperor personally presided over a Water and Land Dharma Assembly, ordering the Minister of Rites to recite the ritual text and bestowing the inscription “Unobstructed Land and Water Altar” with his own imperial brush. Consequently, Water and Land Buddhist events had become highly prevalent within the kingdom.

Yao Xianzhi casually asked, “When will the lower sect be established? Is there a specific date? I, as a devotee, must certainly attend.”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “It will be on the day of the Beginning of Spring next year.”

Yao Xianzhi’s expression turned peculiar.

Why that day? On the Beginning of Spring, the Son of Heaven led his officials to the outskirts for a grand welcoming of spring. Even he, as the Capital Prefect, was responsible for “striking the spring.”

Therefore, the emperor would undoubtedly be unable to attend the celebration.

The last time Master Chen was a guest at Golden Jade Residence, the Emperor was camped by Pine Needle Lake, only a few steps away, yet they still missed each other.

Chen Ping’an and Yao Xianzhi sat inside a carriage. The inn wasn’t far from the Yao estate.

Xiao Mo sat next to the coachman.

Yao Xianzhi tentatively asked, “Why not simply stay at my home?”

Chen Ping’an explained, “After delivering the elixirs and ensuring Old General Yao is well after taking them, we’ll immediately leave the capital to visit the Cloud Grass Hall on Mount Pu.”

Yao Xianzhi asked, “So hurried?”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “The lower sect will be established on the Beginning of Spring next year; you yourself said it, Prefect, how busy do you think this Upper Sect Master am?”

Yao Xianzhi’s expression was complex.

No matter how busy, surely three or two days wouldn’t make a difference.

Upon arriving at the Yao estate, they reached the room adorned with numerous talismans. After Yao Xianzhi helped Old General Yao consume the two elixirs, Chen Ping’an sat by the bedside, gently took the old man’s wrist, carefully examined his pulse, and finally turned to Yao Xianzhi, softly saying, “Rest assured, there’s no issue. Old General Yao will soon awaken. Even if you’re busy then, you must make time to accompany Grandpa for walks and sightseeing.”

Yao Xianzhi first addressed him as “Master Chen,” then raised his arm, clenched his fist tightly, and lightly tapped it against his chest.

Chen Ping’an gently placed the old man’s arm back under the blanket, tucked the corners, and then stood up, walking out with Yao Xianzhi.

Xiao Mo stood quietly by the door.

Chen Ping’an patted Yao Xianzhi’s shoulder, “Go busy yourself; don’t worry about me. I’ll wait here for the Old General to awaken.”

Yao Xianzhi laughed, “Busy with what? I haven’t slept soundly in days; I need to rest.”

In the end, Yao Xianzhi had Chen Ping’an stay for dinner. When the estate manager announced that the old man had awakened, the three quickly put down their chopsticks and went together to the adjacent courtyard.

The old man leaned against the headboard, his spirits high, smiling towards the blue-robed man entering the doorway with his grandson, asking, “Xianzhi, have you notified His Majesty?”

Yao Xianzhi shook his head, “Not yet.”

Then, Yao Xianzhi tentatively asked, “Grandpa, should I send word to the palace now?”
Looking at the nonchalant brat, who gracefully lifted his azure robes and slowly sat on the chair beside the bed, the old general waved his hand at Yao Xianzhi and chuckled, “No need, some things can’t be begged for, and some people can’t be scared away.”

Afterward, the old general only reminisced with Chen Ping’an about days gone by, not uttering a single word about affairs of state or matters of the realm.

They chatted for nearly half an hour before General Yao finally let Chen Ping’an off the hook, but insisted that he must come to their home for a casual meal before leaving Mirage City, to which Chen Ping’an agreed.

Yao Xianzhi accompanied Chen Ping’an to the gate, as he had to return to the magistrate’s office to continue dealing with a mountain of official duties. The search for the saber was merely the most pressing matter at hand; countless other miscellaneous affairs were even more numerous.

When snow melts, the capital resembles a garden of jade blossoms.

A snowy night visit to a Daoist temple.

Chen Ping’an walked down a narrow alley in the westernmost part of Great Spring Capital. There stood a small Daoist temple called Yellow Blossom Temple, which had recently been unsealed. His Majesty the Emperor had withdrawn a group of imperial court cultivator-retainers who had been secretly “guarding” the temple.

The abbot, Liu Mao, was once the Third Prince, later a feudal lord of Great Spring. After the dynasty continued unbroken, albeit with a change in the imperial surname, Liu Mao proactively requested to relinquish his position. He received a Daoist ordination certificate and retreated to this small temple in the capital for quiet cultivation, refusing to see guests. Now with the Daoist name Longzhou Daoist, he had only taken in two orphaned children as disciples. Liu Mao taught them some Daoist incantations and immortal breathing techniques, but the two youngsters, unaware of the priceless treasures, were quite lazy, finding them much more troublesome than sweeping the courtyard.

Liu Mao heard a knock on the door, donned his robe, and got up. Upon opening the door, he saw the azure-clad guest, who was like an old friend he had not seen in a long time. Liu Mao immediately felt a headache coming on.

An unwelcome guest had arrived, and by the looks of it, was here to mooch off his humble Daoist temple once again.

Chen Ping’an exclaimed in surprise, examining Liu Mao with a look of unexpected pleasure. He cupped his hands in greeting and said with a smile, “Congratulations, Abbot. In just a few days since our last meeting, you have already successfully broken through to the Dragon Gate Realm. It’s truly unexpected, so I apologize for coming empty-handed today.”

Liu Mao twitched the corner of his mouth. “It’s nothing.”

After hesitating for a moment, Liu Mao ultimately dared not say the words, “I’ll make it up to you next time,” fearing that his Daoist temple would be razed to the ground tonight.

To come empty-handed meant a bountiful return, didn’t it?

Xiao Mo had already helped close the temple gate. Chen Ping’an walked alongside Liu Mao, beginning to introduce his two students.

“This is my disciple, Pei Qian, who has just become a Stance Realm martial artist.”

“This is my student, Cao Qinglang, the top candidate in the capital examination of the Great Li imperial examination, and the second-place finisher in the palace examination.”

Upon hearing this, Liu Mao returned a Daoist salute to the young man and woman, but he couldn’t help but wonder in his heart, could the two really be compared?

No matter how prestigious the Great Li imperial examinations were, how often did the capital examination, held every four years, not produce a top three of champion, second place and third place?

But how many Stance Realm martial artists were there in an entire continent? Back in his homeland, there were only two grandmasters, Martial Saint Wu Shu and Yellow-Clad Yun.

Liu Mao intended to lead the visitors to the main hall for tea, but Chen Ping’an declined, saying there was no need for such formality. They would just have a chat in the abbot’s study, which was quite quiet.

The Dragon Gate Realm abbot of Yellow Blossom Temple felt his eyelids twitch as he opened the door to his study.

If he were to accidentally be robbed, being looted would be due to the poor protection of his own Daoist temple, and he couldn’t blame others. But what was this? The other party was openly robbing him, seizing his possessions by force, and he even had to help open the door?

A side room, used by Liu Mao as a study, was simply furnished, remaining almost the same as when Chen Ping’an had last visited. A desk, an old yellow bamboo brush holder from the palace, holding Great Spring chicken-distance calligraphy brushes used for transcribing Daoist scriptures, a row of bookshelves against the wall, and a small pot of sweet flag on a flower stand in the corner.

The only difference was probably that there were a few fewer books on the bookshelf, and two brand new chairs in the room.

Chen Ping’an glanced at the brush holder. The three calligraphy brushes he had seen last time were still there. If he remembered correctly, two of them were inscribed with “Serene” and “Bright,” respectively.

The rarest one was still the long-tipped brush inscribed with “A Collection of a Hundred and Twenty Arts, Skill Supreme Under Heaven.”

The well-preserved *Yellow Court Scripture*, with countless imprints and signatures, was also there. Very good, it seemed the Dragonzhou Daoist was a traditionalist who valued sentiment.

Cui Dongshan had already finalized a deal with the Great Spring Dynasty. The Lower Sect would purchase a large number of government-made chicken-distance brushes, and the Wind and Kite Ferry could help sell them to the two continents north of Tongye Continent.

After hearing about this, Chen Ping’an immediately helped his student and the Lower Sect to fill in the gaps, saying that official-made was inappropriate; they were all imperial objects made by the palace workshops.

At that time, everyone on Immortal Capital Mountain was speechless.

Even Immortal Old Jia remained silent.

Liu Mao lit an oil lamp on the table, its light dim and yellow. Fortunately, the windows were tightly closed, preventing the lamp from flickering.

The study was small and not suitable for entertaining guests. Moreover, there were only two chairs in the room, so Chen Ping’an had Xiao Mo and the others wait outside.

Chen Ping’an stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking at a painting on the wall, nodding in praise. “Abbot, your brushwork is like adding the dragon’s eyes, making this humble room shine.”

It turned out to be a page of scripture that Liu Mao had framed with sandalwood and hung on the wall. However, the content of the *Yellow Court Scripture* was in two different styles of writing.

The final sixteen characters were precisely those that Chen Ping’an had helped add last time: “Separate the body, transform at will, Replenish the real person, Live with heaven and earth.”

Liu Mao sat behind the desk, while Chen Ping’an moved the only remaining chair to sit opposite him, crossed his legs, took out a bamboo opium pipe and a pouch of tobacco, tapped it on the table, and asked with a smile, “Don’t mind, do you?”

Liu Mao shook his head with a smile. “Please, Sword Immortal Chen.”

He was surprised, wondering when Chen Ping’an had developed this habit.

Chen Ping’an remembered something, put the opium pipe and tobacco on the table, turned and walked towards the bookshelf. He took out several books from his sleeve, and before placing them on the bookshelf, he casually waved his hand, revealing the books he had borrowed from here last time, such as *Sea Island Mathematical Manual* and *Mathematical Methods*. After returning them, Chen Ping’an smiled and said, “See clearly? I borrowed six books from you earlier, and I said I would return them. How could I not?”
These six books are all works on numerology and divination. Liu Mao is obsessed with this subject; one could even consider him a master of the art. After all, this former Third Prince of the Great Quan Dynasty once served as a behind-the-scenes director, compiling the extensive “Comprehensive Geographic Records of the Yuanzhen Twelfth Year,” a massive tome spanning four hundred volumes, for the imperial court.

According to Liu Mao’s previous words, books are not for borrowing. If you want them, you’ll have to snatch them away.

Many book collectors hidden away from the world share this peculiar habit. Lending a book is like lending a wife, while gifting a book is like giving away a concubine.

Liu Mao glanced at the bookshelf, resisting the urge, but ultimately failing. He stood up, walked around his desk, and quickly approached the bookshelf, intending to remove each of those books on numerology and divination, returning them to their exact original positions. Any deviation would cause Liu Mao discomfort, so much so that it would truly disturb his peace.

The moment he picked up the “Nine Chapters on Mathematical Art,” Liu Mao knew something was amiss. A quick glance confirmed his suspicions! Liu Mao quickened his pace, removing the remaining five books one by one. As expected, the printing was crude, obviously the work of private booksellers. These were folk versions, vastly inferior to the six palace-engraved editions he treasured. Moreover, for a collector, the price wasn’t the issue at all. Liu Mao’s face flushed with anger, and he gritted his teeth, returning the books to Chen Ping’an in silence.

Chen Ping’an gently pushed Liu Mao’s hand away, feigning complaint, “Easy come, easy go; borrowing again is no problem! Besides, we’ve been old friends for years, so why the formality? Take them, take them!”

Liu Mao was particularly adamant, cursing inwardly at Chen Ping’an’s swordsmanship. This was non-negotiable. If the difference in their cultivations wasn’t so vast, Liu Mao would have lost his temper, at the very least, he would be throwing his guest out.

His beloved books were like beautiful concubines, and Chen Ping’an forcefully abducted them. Now he wanted to return a few old hags and claim they were even?

Chen Ping’an placed the books on the table and produced a section of a wooden handle from his sleeve, beckoning Liu Mao. “A mistake was made last time; this is to make amends.”

Previously, during his visit, Chen Ping’an, in his quest to uncover traces of Fei Ran’s whereabouts, had crushed the wooden handle of a regular duster, one of Liu Mao’s prized possessions, inch by inch.

This time, Liu Mao did not refuse.

Chen Ping’an shook out his long gown, crossed his legs, and began to puff on his pipe, surveying his surroundings. It was in this very study that Chen Ping’an had ultimately discovered a cryptic letter from Fei Ran, a deception. Besides frustrating the calculations of Fei Ran and Liu Mao, an extra “reward” had been the acquisition of a private book seal, belonging to Wen Hai Zhou Mi. Chen Ping’an handed it over to Cui Dongshan, who eventually took it to the Literary Temple of the Central Land.

The cost of reading the letter was a sword duel with Pei Min, disguised as the old steward of the Duke of Shen’s residence. At that time, a section of an umbrella handle had traveled like a flying sword from the Heavenly Palace Temple outside the capital city on a rainy night, piercing Chen Ping’an’s abdomen.

Pei Min, Sword Arts Prodigy, one of the three unparalleled talents of the Great Bright World.

Once half a sword arts teacher to Bai Ye, and one of the two instructors of Lu Tai.

Liu Mao watched the man smoking his pipe and asked, “When will Chen Sword Immortal visit Mirage City next?”

He didn’t even ask why he was visiting tonight.

Chen Ping’an was taken aback by the question and coughed incessantly. The master of the Yellow Flower Temple was certainly sincere.

In truth, Liu Mao reaching the Dragon Gate Realm, and seemingly heading straight for Core Formation, was a way of showing the Yao Clan of Great Quan that the Liu Clan of Great Quan no longer had any imperial ambitions in Liu Mao, only a Taoist from Dragon Province, wishing to calmly cultivate and become a temple master immortal.

Chen Ping’an asked, “The Duke of Shen?”

Liu Mao shook his head. “I haven’t seen him in a long time, believe it or not.”

Chen Ping’an leaned forward, taking a writing brush from the bamboo pen holder.

Liu Mao took a deep breath.

Fortunately, the man spun the brush, examined it carefully, and then quickly returned it to the pen holder.

Chen Ping’an said, “No need to see me out,” before putting away his pipe and waving his sleeve to disperse the smoke. He got up and walked towards the door, suddenly pulling a book from his sleeve and tossing it to Liu Mao. “Returning this to you.”

It was the “long overdue” “Illustrations of Celestial Phenomena.”

Unlike those books on numerology and divination, this “Illustrations of Celestial Phenomena” was a forbidden book by the imperial court. Even officials were not allowed to possess it privately, otherwise it was considered treason, a crime more severe than private possession of armor and crossbows by the common people.

Liu Mao reached out and caught the book, pleasantly surprised that Chen Sword Immortal hadn’t swapped it out.

He placed it on the bookshelf, returning it to its rightful place. Then, on a whim, he took it out again, casually flipping through the pages, only to discover that there were two seals placed side by side on the title page, and again on the last page.

“Boundless contemplation,” “Think twice before acting.”

“Contentment,” “Knowing what you lack.”

Liu Mao took the book and walked to the window, opening it. He looked back at the lamp light on the desk.

“The moon illuminates a sky of snow, the lamp light is fainter than fireflies, blow out the lamp, the words become clearer.”

Back at the Apricot Blossom Pavilion, Pei Qian returned to her room to rest, while Cao Qinglang left the Immortal Inn alone to enjoy the snow.

Chen Ping’an took out the two notebooks from Li Huai, ink and brush, and one by one analyzed and supplemented the difficult parts of the book.

Xiao Mo was engrossed in a thrilling novel about strange tales, reading with great interest.

Chen Ping’an suddenly put away the books and said, “Xiao Mo, please protect me for a moment.”

Xiao Mo nodded silently, walked out of the house, gently closed the door, and stood in the corridor.

Chen Ping’an conjured a Caged Sparrow Sword, activated his five-element natal treasures, and mobilized the spiritual energy from his five energy apertures, beginning to concentrate on visualizing a landscape.

It was actually the thousand-mile landscape of the Towing Moon Mountain territory.

During the confrontation with the mastermind in the Towing Moon Mountain territory, Chen Ping’an had, in fact, had a silent divine journey.

First, he tried to learn more about the ascension platform ruins, and then he worried that Zhou Mi or Fei Ran might have hidden backup plans. Finally, he chose the location and target for his Fallen Sword.

However, the chief disciple of the Towing Moon Mountain Ancestor had soon taken the initiative to request a one-on-one duel.

At this moment, inside the Caged Sparrow Sword, Chen Ping’an floated in the air, alone in a heaven and earth void.

First came Towing Moon Mountain, and then the nearby mountains and waters, flowers and trees, one by one they came into being. Chen Ping’an used his heart image to manifest the Great Dao, recreating the world.

But when Chen Ping’an condensed a wisp of his spirit, as if a traveler pausing somewhere, looking at a flower in the world,
As he attempted to coax the flower to bloom on its own, in that instant, his inner world shattered like porcelain, utterly destroyed.

Even the miniature realm of the caged bird manifested numerous cracks.

Xiao Mo gently reminded, “Young Master, perhaps you could shrink the domain and reduce the number of things within?”

Chen Ping An nodded.

He began to visualize the world anew, no longer the Mountain of Bearing the Moon, but the pond behind the bamboo lodge. Eventually, within the clear water, a seed of purple-gold lotus began to sprout slowly, its stem and leaves emerging from the water, standing tall and graceful. Lotus leaves spread across the water’s surface, a bud swelling, about to unfurl its first bloom… In that instant, Chen Ping An withdrew his consciousness, actively dispelling the vision.

Stowing away the caged bird, Chen Ping An walked to the window, opening it to the falling snow.

From his sleeve, he retrieved two bamboo slips, inscribed with two sentences from the Dao Ancestor’s Three Thousand Words: “Having no body, what woes have I?” This was easy to understand. However, the other slip, concerning “the body in the world, entrusting the world, bearing the world,” was something Chen Ping An had never been able to fully grasp. Even within the Daoist sects of the vast world, different lineages held varying interpretations, and no one dared claim their understanding was definitive, only a partial comprehension.

Chen Ping An had intentionally avoided the topic when temporarily borrowing the power of the Fourteenth Realm from Lu Chen, especially during his encounter with the “Daoist Child” riding the ox.

Silently stowing the two bamboo slips he had treasured for years, he turned and said, “Xiao Mo, you may enter.”

Xiao Mo entered the room, asking nothing, simply continuing to read the book of strange tales.

No wonder everyone wanted to be a scholar, for they often lost their way, only to stumble upon a grand estate, where they would encounter either a female immortal or a seductive ghost, sharing wine and poetry in a night of revelry…

Within the imperial palace of the capital city, a woman with delicate makeup and exquisite beauty slammed a memorial in her hand. She rubbed her brow, closed her eyes to rest for a moment, then picked up the memorial from the Ministry of Revenue once more.

After reading all the memorials, the night was deep. The Emperor lifted his head, gazing into the distance, lost in thought.

The Biyou Palace of the Buried River Water Mansion.

By the river, the Water Goddess, Liu Rou, sat on a chair, holding a fishing rod in one hand. She yawned, having sat for half a day without a single fish biting. The fish basket was empty.

Unexpectedly, a foolish fish swam to the shore, circling slowly, infuriating the Water Goddess. She dropped the fishing rod, bent down to pick up a stone from the bank, raised her arm high, pointed at the fish, and glared, “You are going too far!”

With a stomp of her foot, the Water Goddess threw the stone away and waved her hand, “Forget it, one does not slay the emissaries between warring states.”

Liu Rou picked up the fishing rod again, sitting on the chair, squatting on the chair, standing on the chair, but no matter what she did, no fish would bite.

She had no choice but to toss the bamboo rod far into the river and kick the empty fish basket away. Fine, she would return to the mansion and tell everyone that the fish were too big, breaking the rod, and the catch was too plentiful, dragging away the basket.

The Water Goddess swaggered back towards the Biyou Palace. Not far away, she suddenly looked up. Several figures had landed at her doorstep. Ah, Mister Chen had come to visit.

Alas, alas, she no longer had Flowery Water Wine and eel noodles to offer her guests.

Recently, during every Water Mansion meeting, the Water Goddess would initially sit upright, but then she couldn’t help but glance sideways at a certain spot, occasionally secretly wiping her mouth.

If not eel noodles, then snakehead fish would do.

One of the Water Mansion officials, born of a fish spirit, was filled with anxiety and dread, feeling that each day was like a year. He had to secretly pay respects to the Water Goddess, bracing himself to speak earnestly, the gist of which was that if the Water Goddess continued like this, he would resign from his post. Fortunately, during the subsequent meetings, the Water Goddess did not look at him once.

Liu Rou asked curiously, “Mister Chen, didn’t you say you would bring your wife to Biyou Palace?”

Chen Ping An smiled, “Perhaps next time.”

Upon arriving at the main hall, Liu Rou waved her hand, ordering people to summon Chef Liu to start working.

Pei Qian immediately said, “No spice for mine.”

Chen Ping An seconded.

Cao Qinglang said, “I can handle a little spice.”

Xiao Mo smiled, “As the host pleases.”

Liu Rou shouted, “Bring a few jars of ‘Not Flowery Water Wine’.”

She laughed heartily, “The officials in Mirage City are all so annoying, pulling strings even to my sister and brother-in-law, insisting on buying Flowery Water Wine from me. The hundred or so jars of wine in the cellar, only brewed for a few years, don’t deserve the name ‘Flowery Water Wine’. Such a thing that neither makes money nor tarnishes the brand, only a fool would do. I came up with a clever idea, giving those newly brewed wines the name ‘Not Flowery Water Wine’. I gave the wine away, and still earned the favor…”

Seeing that everyone was silent and no one applauded, the Water Goddess chuckled to herself.

Pei Qian cheered, “That’s what the books call ‘the mountain man has his own clever plans’.”

Liu Rou slapped the table, “That’s right, Little Pei Qian knows how to talk, that’s exactly the reason.”

Bowls of noodles were brought to the table, and Chen Ping An and Pei Qian were already accustomed to it.

Master and disciple exchanged a smile.

Xiao Mo, who had said “as the host pleases”, had half a basin of noodles and half a basin of red chili peppers.

Cao Qinglang was slightly better, with a large basin of noodles and a small basin of chili peppers.

Chen Ping An rolled up a chopstick of noodles, not forgetting to turn to remind the two, “Spice with wine, the more you drink, the more you have. Xiao Mo, Cao Qinglang, if one bowl of noodles isn’t enough, don’t be polite with the Water Goddess.”

Xiao Mo was silent for a moment, then nodded, “I won’t be polite.”

Cao Qinglang slowly turned his head, looking at Pei Qian.

Someone’s travelogue clearly stated that the eel noodles of the Biyou Palace Water Mansion were exquisite, with an excellent taste, ending with a four-character comment, “Pity no spice.”

Cao Qinglang didn’t even need to start eating, the pungent smell of spice was choking.

Chen Ping An was calm and composed, drinking wine and eating noodles.

Previously, he had stayed in Mirage City for two extra days, during which he had specially accompanied General Yao to Zhaoping Peak outside the city, climbing the mountain together, staying overnight at the mountain top inn, and enjoying the sunrise together.

The first time they parted ways was at the foot of Zhaoping Peak, and this time it was again, so there would be a next time.
Having failed to meet the Emperor, Chen Pingan had to ask Yao Xianzhi to pass on the message regarding the Ji Ju brush transaction.

Liu Rou, upon hearing that the Fallen Mountain was about to establish a lower sect, declared that she would definitely be there before the Beginning of Spring, and would meet them at Immortal Capital Mountain, bringing Chef Liu along!

Chen Pingan, keeping his promise, left all the green-clad pageboys from his water mansion at the Azure Void Palace. Liu Rou didn’t stand on ceremony, the little ones would be eating and drinking well with her from now on.

After Chen Pingan and his group departed, Chef Liu said, “M… My Lady, why didn’t you tell Little Master about… about the academy?”

His own Water God Lady had discussed with His Majesty the Emperor to establish a semi-official, semi-private academy by the Buried River, solely dedicated to teaching the venerable Literary Sage’s teachings. As for the funds, they would be borrowed from the Azure Void Palace and the Imperial Court.

Liu Rou crossed her arms and chuckled, “All you know is eel noodles. When I attend the lower sect’s celebration, I’ll ask for a guest elder or something. Once that’s settled, I’ll bring it up. Will Little Master Chen have the nerve to refuse to give lectures at the academy then?”

After Chen Pingan and his party left the Azure Void Palace, they headed straight for Pu Mountain’s Cloud Cottage.

Inside Great Spring Mirage City, today, the Emperor, draped in a snow-white fox fur, had enjoyed the snowscape. Upon returning to her imperial study, a palace maid offered her a landscape report from the Mountain and Sea Sect of the Central Earth Divine Continent.

It was said to be the first mountain report to specifically name someone.

The contents of the report were earth-shattering.