Amongst the mountain flowers, a white-robed figure was brewing wine. The later-arriving Chen Ping’an, clad in azure, picked up a bowl of sorghum wine from the table. Acting as the host, he took a sip while standing, smiling as he looked at the desolate female cultivator whose mind and soul were confined here. He hadn’t expected her to be a jack-of-all-trades, a master of none, truly a treasure he’d stumbled upon. Calling her a “fellow Daoist” seemed appropriate. He asked, “Fellow Daoist, please tell us your name and share your remarkable story, so we can use it as a snack with our wine.”

The female cultivator couldn’t hide or conceal anything. The two figures, one standing and one sitting, saw through her heart and mind, observing everything with perfect clarity. This was because a panorama related to her life’s experiences had appeared on the mountain peak, like a revolving lantern. The vivid memories were displayed as lifelike colored drawings, while the hazy ones were presented as grayscale images. Moments where memory and reality were blurred were depicted in chaotic, disorganized scenes. It turned out her assumed name was Xu Jiaoqie, her demon clan true name was Xiao Xing, her Daoist name was Youren, and her master affectionately called her Little Soup. Her true form was an undocumented ancient bird, fond of soaring through the human world, carrying fire. Therefore, she initially specialized in fire-based techniques, wearing a verdant feather robe crafted from her molted feathers after taking human form. The robe was bestowed the name “Great Countenance” by a wandering Daoist.

The white-robed inner demon gloated, “Truly a wretched bird. This meticulously planned calamity, brewing for years, was almost successfully executed by Miss Xiao.”

Chen Ping’an, with a jade hairpin and golden eyes, smiled. “A Nascent Soul realm dead soldier, whose memory has been reshaped to be wholeheartedly loyal to Fallen Mountain, accompanied by a semi-immortal grade robe, plus the skills of the Eyebrow Painter and Seamstress, and even the secret knowledge of a desolate land Sacrificial Envoy, truly a profitable venture, a great gain, a treasure trove.”

The white-robed inner demon scoffed, “Such underhanded and insidious methods can only deal with Qi Refining cultivators who are a realm below you. It’s not considered a superior tactic.”

The azure-robed Chen Ping’an took another sip of wine, his expression playful as he stared at the desolate female cultivator whose face was as pale as death. “With the Great Countenance robe, the Eyebrow Painter’s disguise, and the Seamstress’s enhancements, plus our meticulous control and careful assembly of details, can she not impersonate anyone below the Ascension realm? How coincidental, as if someone brought a pillow just as we were getting sleepy. Han Yushu of Ten Thousand Jade Sect has been missing for a long time. If we drag this on, the ancestral hall of Ten Thousand Jade Sect is likely to notice something amiss, despite Jiang Shangzhen’s possession of the deceased sect leader’s remains. After all, paper cannot contain fire, and the Three Mountains Blessed Land will soon realize something is wrong. But if we send Xiao, who is a good actress, to Heavenly Eye Mountain Academy to perform a play with Deputy Headmaster Wen Yu, it might temporarily dispel the doubts of Ten Thousand Jade Sect’s ancestral hall, wouldn’t it? Why not be even more ruthless and directly have Xiao pull off a… cuckoo’s takeover at Three Mountains Blessed Land? A dead soldier is a dead soldier, no matter where they are.”

Xiao Xing possessed extraordinary talent for cultivation. Since she could remember, she seemed to learn everything quickly. Moreover, due to some unknown reason, she didn’t face any significant hurdles in her learning and didn’t have to worry about taking on too much at once. In less than sixty years, she had learned everything a sect could offer. She began to descend the mountain for trials, enjoying traveling the world year-round, collecting local anecdotes and various legends, especially delving into the intricate and creative desolate land water cloud script. This was because she aspired to compile a comprehensive dictionary of the desolate land. When the war broke out, Xiao Xing, who was not yet a hundred years old but had reached the bottleneck of the Nascent Soul realm, was conscripted by Supporting Moon Mountain. There was no escape. Even the sect’s attempt to pay to avoid conscription was futile. Xiao Xing, who thought highly of herself, participated in her first battle, where she was almost pushed out of her realm by Ning Yao’s sword aura. It’s estimated that Ning Yao still doesn’t know of her existence as a desolate land Earth Immortal.

The white-robed inner demon folded his sleeves, smiling. “Miss Xiao is truly a tragic figure. She schemed and plotted to seek revenge, willing to sacrifice her life and Dao, but her enemy doesn’t even know who she is, not even qualified to be remembered. She can only vent her anger on others. After all, Miss Xiao hasn’t been completely blinded by hatred. She knows, to some extent, that she can’t take revenge on Ning Yao in this lifetime. She is rightfully the number one person under heaven, incomparable to ordinary Ascension realm sword cultivators.”

The azure-robed wine drinker revealed a hint of admiration. “Miss Xiao took a very correct and easy shortcut, killing two birds with one stone. If she hadn’t been exposed today, and with her imminent seclusion to break through the Nascent Soul realm bottleneck, she wouldn’t have had to face the inevitable, invincible inner demon Ning Yao.”

The white-robed inner demon smiled. “A hundred-year-old Nascent Soul, a common genius?”

The azure-robed wine drinker sighed. “What nonsense are you spouting? She must be a genius.”

Xiao Xing, outside of her life’s canvas, was like a woman without clothes, being judged and scrutinized at will.

The scenes that followed showed Xiao Xing landing on Tongye Continent with the Guiyou Army. While healing her injuries and harboring resentment towards Ning Yao, she scoured the palaces and libraries of Tongye Continent, collecting ancient and rare texts. The “girl Doukou,” who carried a knife but was actually a sword cultivator, was her close friend from her youth. The sword cultivator Doukou’s natal flying sword was “Vicious Ghost.” She committed massacres on Tongye Continent and used it to rise to the Nascent Soul realm in a foreign land. Before Tongye Continent was completely submerged, they had already parted ways, and her friend Doukou’s whereabouts were unknown. Xiao Xing then used a secret technique from her sect that could conceal her realm and cultivation, disguising herself as an ordinary person, allowing her to follow the refugees into Lotus Flower Blessed Land to seek refuge. Relying on the Sacrificial Envoy abilities similar to an Imperial Astronomer, she deduced the intertwined connection between Lotus Flower Blessed Land and Fallen Mountain. She then bided her time. Since Chen Ping’an was Ning Yao’s Dao companion, and she couldn’t go to the Ascension City in the Five Colors World, she would exhaust all her knowledge and magical means to severely injure Chen Ping’an and interrupt his Dao. Xiao Xing felt that this loss would likely destabilize Ning Yao’s Dao heart even more. Chen Ping’an had previously called her a dead soldier, and he hit the nail on the head. Xiao Xing never intended to return home alive. By sacrificing her life, she would sever the path of the last Hidden Official of the Sword Qi Great Wall to reach the peak, making Ning Yao regret delivering that sword in the past, and making her remember the name Xiao Xing for the rest of her life. What could be a better way to avenge herself than this?!

The white-robed inner demon sighed. “Sure enough, when luck hits rock bottom, it will rebound. Just pulling a random thread, and there is such an unexpected surprise.”

The azure-robed wine drinker, seemingly an ancient deity without blemish or flaw, said, “Sword cultivator Doukou, good, I’ll remember you.”
As words faded, Xiao Xing’s life unraveled like a reversed river of time, pages flipping backward in a frantic rush. The blue-clad, wine-quaffing man reached out again, transforming the sword-wielding maiden into a portrait, which he tucked into his sleeve. If she was indeed one of the instigators behind the troubles in Tongye Continent, it would be quite interesting. He could eliminate them all in one fell swoop, saving much trouble, and even unearth that elusive, secretive Golden Core talisman cultivator.

The final scene depicted her scheme within the Lotus Root Blessed Land: opening a bookstore in the city, employing workers to print books day and night, mostly tales of romance and strange encounters, selling them at a loss, draining her resources. Little did she expect Xiao Xing to carry several corpses of plague gods, and that she was also a skilled mountain physician, adept at alchemy and herbs.

“Truly a remarkable talent,” the blue-clad drinker sighed, setting down his empty bowl. “No wonder Mount Tuoyue dispatched a Nascent Soul cultivator to leave home and visit the Great Alignment Continent. Now, I’m only curious about one thing: who first encouraged Miss Xiao to enter the Lotus Root Blessed Land? I don’t believe you recognized the opportunity from the start. Surely, a master pointed you in this direction, and you only used the means of a Sacrificial Attendant to confirm the truth of their words, before resolving to become this pawn.”

Xiao Xing looked blank, clearly not feigning ignorance.

The blue-clad drinker clapped his hands lightly. “Fei Ran? Zhou Qinggao? Or did those two vultures meet Xiao Xing together?”

The moment he spoke those names, Xiao Xing’s mind and soul began to churn violently, as if being repeatedly pulled and stretched a thousand times. She was like a sieve, trying to sift out a few specks of gold from the deepest recesses of human memory. However, the process was excruciating for Xiao Xing. The white-robed inner demon smiled and reminded her that if she continued to sift like this, she would become an idiot. The blue-clad drinker scoffed, echoing the words of Old Sword Immortal Qi: *Young people, be more careful in your next life*.

Whether driven by personal or public grudges, the desire to compete and seek revenge was understandable. One should use all available means and let skill decide the outcome.

But who dared to insult Ning Yao?

As expected, from the deepest recesses of Xiao Xing’s memory, sealed within an inconspicuous acupoint, two “golden grains” were sifted out. The conspirators were none other than Fei Ran and Zhou Qinggao, truly deserving of the title “persistent spirits.”

Fei Ran used flying swords and secret arts to sever the traces of the Dao, looking at the woman whose eyes were clouded, wavering between reality and dream, allowing her to mistakenly believe that she had conceived the idea of entering the Lotus Root Blessed Land and using Chen Ping’an and Ning Yao for a roundabout revenge. Fei Ran spoke to himself, “Fellow Daoist Youren, I must erase these traces. I apologize for the intrusion. You will surely not remember meeting us, nor will you need to recall this encounter. But perhaps one day, you will remember. I only hope that you will never have the opportunity to recall today’s events.”

Zhou Qinggao’s lips moved beside him, silent, but his mouth formed the words of the Great Li Dynasty’s official dialect: *Chen Hidden Official, I still hope that Miss Xiao can remember this one day. I look forward to our next meeting in the Wilderness, for a post-mortem.*

The white-robed inner demon laughed. “These two fellows are more concerned about you than infatuated lovers. I estimate that as long as you are willing to defect from the Great Alignment Continent, Brother Fei would even yield the position of Overlord, and Brother Zhou would be more than happy to serve as your vanguard.”

The blue-clad drinker ignored her, swirling the white bowl with a finger. “Having witnessed Miss Xiao’s poignant story, and having finished the wine in the bowl, it’s my turn to entertain. I will return a bowl of wine and weave you a wondrous landscape tale.”

Xiao Xing cried out, “No!”

The next moment, in the brothel, Jiang Shangzhen witnessed a scene that almost made his skin crawl. The Wilderness female cultivator, whose eyes had lost their luster and were blank, suddenly “awoke,” as if from a deep sleep. She shook her head slightly and looked at the white-robed Chen Ping’an, whose eyes shone with golden light. Her first words were, “Mountain Master, shall I search for the traces of that demonic beast?”

Jiang Shangzhen was dumbfounded. How was it done? To manipulate a Nascent Soul cultivator with the power of another Nascent Soul cultivator?

Cultivators were already known for their resilience and tenacity, far exceeding that of ordinary people. How much more so a successful Earth Immortal? To say that a peak cultivator could tamper with the memory of a Qi Refining cultivator whose cultivation was vastly inferior was already no easy task. If the disparity wasn’t significant, success was impossible. Moreover, the great cultivator would need secret, special methods to succeed, and to dare such a bold move. How to “scrape away” a cultivator’s memory, severing those intricate networks and branches, was the first hurdle. Afterward, how to fill in the memory, to seamlessly fill the void and align it with the old mindset, allowing everything to flow naturally and logically, was an even greater obstacle. Otherwise, if the cultivator’s innate Dao Heart even slightly sensed something amiss, a cataclysmic consequence would occur within the cultivator’s microcosm. The Qi Refining cultivator would either become a demented fool, their mind turned to ashes, or would easily suffer a Qi Deviation. This was a form of instinctive resistance, willing to burn everything in the process. The degree of a steadfast Dao Heart possessed by this Wilderness female cultivator, a Nascent Soul cultivator daring to plot and scheme in the Lotus Root Blessed Land, was unimaginable.

Jiang Shangzhen admitted that he could not accomplish such a feat. Even Xun the Old, an Ascension Realm cultivator, probably could not achieve this.

Chen Ping’an looked up at the railing on the second floor and smiled. “Chief Zhou, I will take my leave then.”

Jiang Shangzhen was speechless.

Following Mountain Master Chen’s gaze, the woman turned to look at the gray-haired scholar in green robes. Turning around and cupping her fist, the beautiful woman with bright eyes introduced herself with a mental smile: “My name is Xu Jiaoqie. I am an unregistered disciple of Old Deaf from Sword Qi Great Wall. I received Hidden Official’s instructions in the past to leave my hometown first and secretly infiltrate Tongye Continent. In fact, this is my second meeting with Chief Zhou. However, due to my identity as a spy, to prevent Wilderness diehards from stirring up trouble, it was not appropriate for me to greet Chief Zhou proactively back then.”

Jiang Shangzhen looked embarrassed. “Okay, okay, thank you for your hard work.”
As the moment of parting arrived, Chen Ping’an chuckled inwardly, “Chief Zhou, soon a doppelganger of mine will seek you out. He will take you and Xu Jiaoqie to the wellhead. The well is a hidden arrangement left by the old abbot. If all goes according to plan, you can enter the Mirage City of the Great Spring Dynasty through this path. If it’s a two-way passage like the Ruins of Return, you can return to the blessed land. If it’s one-way, then I’ll have to trouble Chief Zhou to take a trip to the Fish Scale Ferry in the Cloud Cliff Kingdom. Please help oversee the situation there and personally deliver a letter to Wen Yu. I have a request to make. If Wen Yu agrees, then Xu Jiaoqie may need to use Han Yushu’s immortal slough. If Wen Yu deems it inappropriate, then forget it, no need to force the issue.”

Normally, Jiang Shangzhen would never refuse such a fragrant and romantic affair of traveling the world with a beauty. Even a slight frown would be considered dereliction of duty by the Chief Zhou.

But at this moment, the more Jiang Shangzhen looked at Xu Jiaoqie, the more unsettling she became. What red sleeves and fragrant company? The woman before him was more terrifying than a mountain ghost.

However, as it was part of the Chief Guardian’s duty, Jiang Shangzhen had no reason not to make a trip to Mirage City and Fish Scale Ferry. When the white-robed Chen Ping’an vanished into thin air, Xu Jiaoqie obviously received instructions from the mountain master. She clasped her fists at Chief Zhou. The dignified and plump woman had a slender figure and gentle eyes, her tender affection resembling that of a woman seeing her lover. Jiang Shangzhen, however, was an old hand who had been playing in the flower bushes all his life. He knew that she was using some kind of bewitching secret art, so in the eyes of others, she was like a newly married bride, with alluring glances and unspoken emotions.

As one of the Daoist’s avatars, after leaving the sect where Xiao Xing’s talisman puppet was located, and traversing the four corners of the Lotus Root Blessed Land, he found the four newly born native swordsmen one after another. He moved them with reason and touched them with emotion, and finally succeeded in persuading two of them. They were both willing to go “outside” to see the scenery of the outside world. Chen Ping’an had a gentleman’s agreement with them. Where to settle down in the future, whether to return to their hometown, all depended on their own wishes, but before making a decision, they had to take a trip to the Fallen Mountain or the Fox Kingdom to say hello.

One was an unmarried young lady from a prominent family in a large county near the capital of the Southern Garden Kingdom, who was obsessed with frontier poems and sword immortals in books. Her wish came true, and her dream came true. Earlier, she dropped a bright red short sword from her palm.

The other was a grand and unrestrained hero who rode a donkey and carried a sword across the mountains and rivers. Earlier, he drank heartily on the donkey’s back, swaying and staggering, belching out a mouthful of wine, which was a black as ink sword pellet.

The woman’s name was Mai Qing. She was originally worried about a marriage arranged by her parents and was happy to go out for a walk. She left a letter and sneaked out.

The hero was called Ge Shu Longshang. His family had been generals for generations. He was a frontier general of the former Northern Jin Dynasty and had a bad relationship with the new Emperor Tang Tieyi, so he simply resigned and traveled far away.

Earlier, one rode a donkey and the other controlled the wind beside him. They talked speculatively and talked all the way about how to change the current phenomenon of the decline of learning and the loss of Taoism in various countries.

On the way here, there were questions and answers.

Can a white bowl, a wooden basin, a porcelain bottle, and a pottery jar really create a world, accommodating thousands of miles of rivers and mountains in a small space?

Yes.

Can tortoise shells and yarrow stalks, shards of tiles and pieces of stone, really tell good and bad luck, and determine people’s fate with calculations?

Not necessarily.

The woman with a belly full of questions may have been thin-skinned, so she only asked one question.

How many enlightened people like Sword Immortal Chen are there outside, can they be counted on the fingers?

There is a heaven beyond the heavens and people beyond people. There are not many or few land immortals.

As for the woman from the grasslands outside the Great Wall and the young Taoist priest from the Thousand Autumn Temple in the Yuezhou area of the Songlai Kingdom, they politely declined the kindness of the “Sword Immortal Chen” and chose to stay in their hometowns.

One asked if the young master was married. One asked if he was a member of the Taoist sect.

This is called “a word is too much when words are not congenial.”

The blessed land Daoist, one of Chen Ping’an’s avatars, used a celestial method of the sun and moon in a pot to send the woman and the hero here, and handed them over to Jiang Shangzhen, and then returned to the sky.

So this trip, Jiang is really going to be surrounded by rouge and powder, leaning on red and embracing green. The mountain master understands me.

As a result, when Mai Qing heard that the other party’s name was Zhou Fei, she was immediately frightened and her face turned pale. Zhou Fei of the Spring Tide Palace?! What is the difference between that Sword Immortal Chen and a black-hearted merchant who abducts women?

Jiang Shangzhen had a draft in his mind, his expression was natural, and he explained with a smile that he just had the same name as Zhou Fei. In fact, he had an irreconcilable hatred with the Zhou thief of the Spring Tide Palace. He deliberately used the alias Zhou Fei to lure him out, so that he could fight him desperately. He swore he would not be a man if he did not avenge this hatred. Looking at the green-shirted man with a bitter face but firm eyes, the inexperienced woman believed him. The bearded hero on the side frowned slightly, did he run into a scam?

Jiang Shangzhen sacrificed a talisman boat and took them to the address of the well pointed out by Chen Ping’an. Mai Qing lay down and stretched out her hand to rub the white clouds on the edge of the boat. Seemingly casually, she asked, “Are there many Taoists like Sword Immortal Chen outside?” Jiang Shangzhen said, “People like me are just half a bucket of water on the mountain, not to mention geniuses, I’m not even considered a ground material. There are many outside, but there are very few, very few, romantic figures like Sword Immortal Chen.” Mai Qing did not show any expression, but she was slandering in her heart, “See, men’s words are deceiving ghosts.”

Xu Jiaoqie sat upright and said in her heart, “May I ask, how did Sword Immortal Jiang become the Chief Guardian of the Fallen Mountain?”

Jiang Shangzhen’s scalp tingled, and he wanted to ask how did you become like this, but he gave a perfunctory answer, “I and Mountain Master Chen belong to seeing each other as old friends at first sight.”

When they arrived at the inconspicuous rural dry well, a lush green parasol leaf was suspended above the wellhead.

Ge Shu Longshang took off the wine pot, took a sip of wine, felt that his life was drifting, and he really felt like a falling leaf.

Jiang Shangzhen put away the talisman boat and jumped into the well first. Without Jiang Shangzhen’s reminder, Xu Jiaoqie squinted her eyes and held her breath, clearly she was going to stay behind.
Gēshū Lǒngshàng, clutching the fine wine flask, leaped without hesitation, a dizzying sensation overcoming him as if plunging into an ethereal realm. Before his eyes, streaking ribbons of rainbow light flashed past, a mesmerizing sight. Yet, even this swordsman, no weakling himself, soon found himself retching, bile rising in his throat. Finally, his feet touched solid ground, but he swayed unsteadily. He saw the disgruntled Zhōu Féi, his topknot undone, wiping grime from his head. Gēshū Lǒngshàng gave a sheepish grin. Zhōu Féi returned a smile, then suddenly caught a blow to the head, seeing stars as he crashed to the earth, unconscious. The woman who had been sitting on him scrambled to her feet, about to offer apologies, but bent over in haste. Gēshū Lǒngshàng, a seasoned warrior, rolled nimbly aside, dodging the projectile. Jiāng Shàngzhēn seemed a trifle disappointed. Xǔ Jiāo lightly patted Mài Qīng’s back as she landed gracefully.

The capital of Dà Quán, Mirage City, had arrived.

Guarding the small courtyard and well here was a secular Daoist with a family. He had once been a banished immortal, sent to the Lotus Flower Blessed Land for trials. Cast out of the temple by the old Abbot, he was given an edict to watch over this place, told to do nothing but wait. If those emerging from the well killed him on a whim, he was not to complain, but blame it on his fate. As for when he would regain his freedom, he must wait; the time would come.

Since he had nothing better to do, this jade-faced young Daoist had taken a wife and fathered children here, even taking several concubines. Wives were for virtue, concubines for beauty. They lived harmoniously, as sisters. With nothing to do, they squabbled on rainy days and fought on snowy days. Truly, a Daoist specializing in the art of the bedchamber, he never lost. With marital relations so harmonious, the wives and concubines had no need to vie for favor.

The young Daoist, holding a horsetail whisk, stood cautiously under the eaves, wary of approaching the well. He asked hesitantly, “Could this be Sect Leader Jiāng?”

Jiāng Shàngzhēn chuckled, “How did you recognize me?”

The Daoist, skilled in preserving his youth, hesitated. A senior female cultivator in his sect had been wronged by this villain Jiāng. Returning to the sect, she was deeply wounded. It was said she would often paint a portrait of the heartless man, burn it to ashes in a brazier, and, still unsatisfied, paint another, ordering her maidservant to throw the scroll into the communal latrine. In his youth, the Daoist, squatting in the latrine, had glanced down once, nearly suffering lasting psychological trauma.

The Daoist dared not speak the truth. He said sheepishly, “Junior Liú Xùn, Daoist name Jade Mountain, from the Jade Basket Temple on Wild Crane Mountain, greatly admires Sect Leader Jiāng.”

Jiāng Shàngzhēn hastily shielded the two women, feigning surprise. “You’re Liú Yùshān? Then you’re a lecherous fiend!”

Liú Xùn, falsely accused, felt helpless. “Junior only practices the Yellow Thearch Red Seal sect’s unorthodox ways. This supreme art of the bedchamber treats the bed as an altar, free from any lustful intent. The union of man and woman, the replenishment of yin and yang, I believe Sect Leader Jiāng understands.”

Jiāng Shàngzhēn scoffed, then said earnestly, “Understand? I do not understand! I do not accept!”

Liú Xùn changed the subject. “What are Sect Leader Jiāng’s plans? Is there any way Junior can be of assistance?”

Anything but leading him to sneak into the imperial palace and onto the Emperor’s dragon bed; anything else was fine.

After all, a Yuan Ying stage Daoist from an orthodox sect still carried some weight in the Dà Quán Dynasty and the Tóngyè Continent.

Jiāng Shàngzhēn asked, “Can one return to the Lotus Flower Blessed Land through this well?”

Liú Xùn shook his head. “I’ve tried. It’s impossible.”

Jiāng Shàngzhēn looked around. The heavy rain had subsided, and he glanced at the sky, now clear and blue after the storm.

Jiāng Shàngzhēn feared that this notorious degenerate would frighten the two young maidens. He summoned the talisman boat once more and headed straight for Cloud Cliff Country, Fish Scale Ferry, to have Wēn Yù pass on a letter.

As the talisman boat pierced the sea of clouds, going farther and farther away, Liú Xùn remained standing, unmoving. After a long while, he spat softly. “What a load of crap! That dog Jiāng, having the nerve to falsely accuse me of being a lecher!”

Just as Liú Xùn was about to turn around, a willow leaf appeared in the courtyard, swaying like a drunkard. It floated towards Liú Xùn, finally stopping at his brow.

“Wild cranes have the wide world for sustenance, Daoist friend, why imitate those pretentious scholars, harboring mutual disdain?”

Jiāng’s voice echoed in Liú Xùn’s ears. “You hurt my heart, so I shall harm your Great Dao.”

Liú Xùn hurriedly bowed and apologized profusely.

On the way to Cloud Cliff Country, another heavy rain arrived as if on cue. Jiāng Shàngzhēn guessed that it meant three days of rain followed by one day of rest, cycling three times to end the ordeal.

Jiāng Shàngzhēn held no hope for this dispersal of the teachings by the three founding masters. It was none of his business; he would simply observe. After all, Jiāng Shàngzhēn couldn’t claim to agree with the fundamental doctrines of the three schools.

The rain was wide, but none fell on him.

Missing out on this great opportunity brought no regret, a sentiment foreign to Jiāng Shàngzhēn. Yet, to say he had no regrets at all would be self-deception. If he had known, he would have read more Daoist scriptures.

Jiāng Shàngzhēn was now curious about whether Chén Píng’ān could gain anything from this rain. It was not appropriate to ask the Mountain Master directly, fearing he would overstep. He asked Cuī Dōngshān about it, and Cuī Dōngshān’s reaction was strange. He said that the Master had taken extreme measures to break through his seclusion, leaving only two possibilities: either he would comprehend everything, forging it into one, gaining immense benefits, or they would cancel each other out, dissipating into nothing, leaving him with nothing. There was no third possibility.

Without clouds, rain fell, darkening the heavens and earth. The talisman boat was like a suspended fish, opening the eyes of Gēshū Lǒngshàng and Mài Qīng. The talisman boat was like an invisible oiled-paper umbrella, unfurled.

Over countless millennia, how many melancholy travelers had there been?

If Heaven had feelings, the wind would stir the heart, and rain would fall as tears.
Jiang Shangzhen produced a pot of wine and several porcelain cups. Xu Jiaoqie claimed she never drank, fearing it would interfere with matters. Ge Shu Longshang, a veritable wine fiend, felt like he’d lost half his life without a daily tipple. Naturally, he wouldn’t stand on ceremony with Zhou Fei, a brother sworn to vengeance against the Spring Tide Palace scoundrel, Zhou Yin. He accepted the flower-goddess cup, and Jiang Shangzhen filled it with immortal brew. The bearded fellow tossed it back in one gulp, then, dissatisfied, simply demanded an entire jar from Zhou Fei. He drank and savored it himself, praising it loudly, placing the jar at his feet, a cup in one hand, beating rhythm on the railing with the other, and singing at the top of his lungs. Mai Qing had never tasted wine in her life. She only felt that since she’d left home to roam the martial world, not drinking wine seemed rather out of place. Ignoring her limits, she took a huge gulp, choking terribly and turning crimson. Her second try was a mere sip, but she found she liked it. Jiang Shangzhen laughed and praised, “Miss Qingqing is a born adventurer!”

Jiang Shangzhen pulled out a stack of forged travel permits from his sleeve, distributing two each to Ge Shu Longshang and Mai Qing. He explained, “Traveling the lands here also requires these permits. In the past, cultivators didn’t bother with such formalities, wandering freely. But now, Tongye Continent is strict. A cultivator without proper identification will likely be invited to a tea session and reading lesson at the academy. I’ve taken the liberty of writing your real names on these permits. You can fill in aliases on the extra ones later. Don’t worry, the seals of the various governments and checkpoints on these permits are authentic.”

Mai Qing opened her permit, revealing a long series of folding pages. Admiring the official seals in different fonts and styles, she exclaimed, “A dazzling array! So beautiful!”

The young woman resolved to collect a hundred official seals in the future.

Ge Shu Longshang chuckled, “Elder Sect Leader Jiang is truly a veteran.”

Jiang Shangzhen, understanding the subtle meaning, replied with a smile, “My true name is Jiang Shangzhen. I once held the top position in a sect, and had some renown in Tongye Continent. Unfortunately, after three years in charge, I became a nuisance to everyone. Unable to gain their full support, I wisely stepped down, leaving the position to someone more suitable. That’s why that fire-attendant at the well called me ‘Elder Sect Leader’. Friend Yushan is subtly insulting me. We’re sharing the same boat, it’s fate. From now on, you can call me Fellow Daoist Jiang, Brother Jiang, Big Brother Jiang, whatever you like.”

Jiang Shangzhen shifted his gaze, asking with a smile, “Miss Xu, for this trip to Tongye Continent, are you still using the name Xu Jiaoqie?”

Xu Jiaoqie smiled charmingly, “I want to learn from Lord Hidden Official, constantly changing aliases. I’ll use Luo Wan.”

She didn’t know why she was so fond of the name “Luo Wan.” The thought simply arose naturally, like a casual observer strolling along the shore, suddenly spotting a fish leaping from the water.

Every time she mentioned Lord Hidden Official, admiration shone in the female cultivator’s eyes.

Jiang Shangzhen handed her a permit, smiling slightly, “Luo Wan, a very fitting and pleasant name.” The material was exquisite, the warp and weft intricate. The beauty of Luo Wan fabric was unmatched. The weaver’s skill was truly divine.

Jiang Shangzhen asked through mental communication, “Miss Xu, has Mountain Master Chen told you the inside story of this trip to Cloud Cliff Nation?”

Han Yushu’s immortal remains were in Jiang Shangzhen’s possession. He had used them twice in the Savage Lands, only revealing them fleetingly.

Luo Wan nodded, “Lord Hidden Official wants me to impersonate that Han surname immortal, to take a trip to Heavenly Eye Academy to prove my innocence. I must play the part well with Headmaster Wen, to reassure the Three Mountains Blessed Land.”

Jiang Shangzhen, in a languid posture, leaned against the railing, pinching the neck of the wine jug between two fingers, gently swaying it. He sighed, seemingly without cause, “The heavens will rain, and a maiden will marry.”

In the Mirage City of Great Spring Dynasty, besides the Snowscape of Glazed Realm, universally acknowledged as the most beautiful sight in Tongye Continent, above and below the mountains, there were also ten thousand peonies, their magnificence unmatched in the world.

At Liu Xun’s residence, another guest arrived.

A white-clad young man, with a mole between his eyebrows and a green jade hairpin in his hair, accompanied by a scholar in Confucian robes, with a white jade hairpin.

Both jade hairpins were gifts from their teacher, meticulously crafted. Each bore an inscription of eight tiny characters.

Cui Dongshan’s read: “Vermilion Balustrade, Jade Scrolls, New as Untouched.”

Cao Qinglang’s read: “Awe-Inspiring from Afar, Warm upon Approach.”

Now that Master had personally dragged out the deeply hidden Xiao Xing, the Blessed Land was truly at peace. Cui Dongshan had already agreed on prices with the cultivators within.

Eighty or ninety percent were willing to return to their homeland, Tongye Continent, with their fellow disciples and families. As for the one or two who chose to remain, it wasn’t that they didn’t want to return, but that Cui Dongshan had opened a portion of the array’s restrictions, allowing them to experience the abundant spiritual energy of a superior Blessed Land firsthand. The result was that both those leaving and those staying had to pay.

Those short on funds could owe it first, and repay it slowly later. Once they arrived in Tongye Continent, the Azure Lotus Sword Sect guaranteed they wouldn’t chase after the debt for a century, and the interest wasn’t high, so there was no need to rush.

The price was calculated per capita, one person counted as one. Those with higher cultivation and closer blood ties to the sect leaders commanded a higher price. And for those promising talents with good foundations, the price couldn’t be too low, lest it be seen as undervaluing their future achievements. Could these chosen ones tolerate such an insult?

As for the refugee commoners, there was no talk of money. If Cui Dongshan dared to conscientiously ask for it, he’d worry about Master breaking his legs.

Cui Dongshan acted with swift efficiency. Since this passage had appeared between Lotus Root Blessed Land and Great Spring Dynasty, it shouldn’t be wasted. On this matter, he and Master shared the same thought: Old Guan Zhu would definitely not leave this road open for long; he might take it back at any moment. While Little Mo was currently reminiscing with Old Guan Zhu, the foreign cultivators in Lotus Root Blessed Land should leave as soon as possible, making the umbrella carrying easier.

Otherwise, the next time Xie Gou carried a Tongye umbrella concealing the entire Blessed Land, crossing the continents, it would consume a great deal of her stored spiritual energy. She might not care, but Fallen Star Mountain couldn’t afford it.
If not for this, given Chen Ping’an’s consistent style, he would have long ago had Xiao Mo, or Jiang Shangzhen plus Cui Dongshan, working together to return the oil-paper umbrella to Tongye Continent. After all, relocating an entire blessed land, especially one that now possesses the size and scope of the Five Sacred Mountains and a complete Great Dao, is far more strenuous than ordinary immortal mountain-moving feats. Moreover, during the long journey, this oil-paper umbrella, destined to be unable to be stored within one’s natal qi residence by immortal means, if any “tumultuous disturbances” were to occur, not even speaking of damage, but simply a few violent shakes, would likely be a natural disaster of unpredictable consequences for the sentient beings within the blessed land.

Therefore, Chen Ping’an could not help but be cautious and careful again.

Once Xiao Mo returns to Fallen Mountain from the Azure Underworld, it is estimated that Xie Gou can also return to the vastness of the world from the Hundred Thousand Mountains, just in time for them to have the opportunity to be alone together.

As for whether Xiao Mo can remain chaste, and whether Xie Gou can consummate the relationship before marriage, hehe, let them rely on their own abilities.

Liu Xun noticed the activity around the well courtyard and hurried over. Either they wouldn’t come, forcing him to guard this place year after year, or they would all swarm over here. Did you all arrange this in advance?

Although restricted by his duty and confined by his status, unable to leave the capital for even a moment, Liu Xun is, after all, an old Nascent Soul immortal, and relatively well-informed. He knows a lot about the shifting winds and clouds of the outside world through purchasing landscapes and official government gazettes. Therefore, he immediately recognized the identity of that white-robed youth: Cui Dongshan, the first sect master of the Azure Glade Sword Sect, and the high disciple of the young hidden official of the Sword Qi Great Wall.

Liu Xun dared not take it lightly and once again announced his identity to the two uninvited guests.

Cui Dongshan smiled and said, “Qinglang, go to the imperial palace and say hello to Yao Jinzhi. Explain why there is such a matter. If His Majesty the Emperor is willing to clean up the mess, then come here to try his luck and prospect for gold, recruiting a few last-rate offerings to make up the numbers. The Yao family of Daquan lacks thugs, and these people lack money. This is called a match made in heaven, a perfect fit.”

Cao Qinglang nodded with a smile, asked Liu Xun for directions, and after winding his way through the carved railings and jade buildings, walked out of the residence to discuss the matter with Yao Jinzhi.

Liu Xun was slightly surprised in his heart, never expecting him to be a proper scholar.

Helping Fallen Mountain “lead the way and protect the Dao” at the blessed land wellhead was also a group of blessed land cultivators invited to help out. Sun Wanyan was there to join in the fun, her fingernails glistening as she raised her fingers. As a local cultivator, this was the first time Sun Wanyan had seen so many Qi Refiners. She sighed faintly, realizing that cultivators were truly worthless outside.

Luo Fumei, the direct disciple of Fox Country’s Pei Xiang, was responsible for leading a group of warbling, flirting Fox Country female cultivators. It was rare for them to come out for some fresh air, and plus it was a decree personally issued by Fallen Mountain’s Hidden Official Chen, they did not dare to be negligent in the slightest. Each exquisitely dressed fox charm female cultivator, like a copyist in the palace, meticulously recorded the files of those thousands of people: names, Daoist titles, origins, and mountain and water lineage.

The only strange thing was that the monarch, Pei Xiang, had set a rule for them: in addition to their writing and copying, those Tongye Continent cultivators also had to line up and sit down, speaking aloud themselves, and then have them write it down.

In this way, the Fox Country would have two copies of the file.

But wasn’t this redundant?

Luo Fumei seemed like an inspecting official, staring at those old and young, men and women, with varying expressions.

Besides the swordsman Cao Ni, who had just entered the Golden Body Realm, there were also two young martial artists with extraordinary talents, Yuan Huang and Wu Jiang. They were all preparing to go outside to broaden their horizons.

Yuan Huang also sat among the rouge and powder, helping to record the customs clearance documents. Wu Jiang held his sword with both hands, sitting upright behind the table. He seemed to have nothing to do, but in reality, he was feasting his eyes.

There was also a female grandmaster from Songlai Kingdom’s Jiangzhou, He Qizhou, and an elderly martial artist who was said to be a disciple of the knife sharpener Liu Zong. The old man, nearly sixty years old, was a sixth-realm martial artist. He had previously received an invitation from Gaou Jun of Lakeside Sect, but did not attend the Big Wooden Temple conference. Besides the honing of martial arts through sparring with experts, the old man was not interested in the work of arguing with his mouth or fighting for power. This time, the old man received the news and rushed over here without a word, wanting to leave this world and see his master.

The Mindscape of a cultivator.

Strange and odd is not strange.

On the mountain peak where hundreds of flowers bloomed in splendor and ten thousand stalks of green bamboo grew, a blue-robed drinker lightly tapped a white bowl, the sound of tinkling chimes crisp and pleasant, “How should I put it?”

The white-robed heart demon smiled and said, “What kind of question is this? What can I say? And what is there for me to say?”

Cultivators and heart demons are mutually hostile enemies.

A Daoist clearing a heart demon is like proofreading a book, proofreading a book is like sweeping fallen leaves from the ground, sweeping and growing again, fallen leaves flutter and raise dust, sweeping and sweeping, there is dust again.

“Then let’s make a deal, how about we each take a step back and you and I live in peace?”

The white-robed heart demon sighed heavily upon hearing this, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and looked up at the sky, “You and I know very well, Chen Ping’an is not Wu Shuangjiang, how can he peel off a heart demon.”

“There is nothing difficult in the world, only people who don’t put their heart into it. There is always a way to come up with a solution that has no solution.”

“I can’t think of one. What is the price?”

“It doesn’t matter if you can’t think of one, as long as you sincerely approve of a certain method. As for the price, you can obtain a certain degree of freedom, similar to a cultivator’s Yin spirit.”

“Sounds insincere.”

“Actually, it’s extremely sincere.”

The white-robed heart demon smiled and said, “Saying a thousand words and ten thousand words, why should we deceive ourselves? I actually trust your method. Perhaps if it were a heart demon other than me, they would think it was good, and they would probably nod and agree with the flow, but alas.”

The green-robed drinker sighed, “The ‘we’ of the past were really stubborn. That’s right, without you, there would be no us, we would not have reached today’s heights.”

Chen Ping’an’s true heart demon is Chen Ping’an of the past.

More accurately, it is that child who liked to negate himself.

At this moment, a wisp of Chen Ping’an’s mind appeared on the mountain top again. In a sense, he was the true body, removing the camouflage, wearing a bright red robe, holding a sword in both hands, using the sword as a staff.

Chen Ping’an sat on the ground, his long sword across his knees. His face and figure were blurred as he turned to look at them, one was himself of the past, one was his pure self. He smiled and waved to them.
A green-robed guest, his eyes gleaming with pure gold, was the first to approach Chen Ping’an, squatting down and scooping up a handful of earth, gently rubbing it between his fingers.

The immaculate figure in white robes, as if untouched by worldly dust, hesitated for a moment, then rose from the table and walked over. As he walked, he transformed into a young boy, then further into a child.

Without a single word, the Chen Ping’an representing the complexities of humanity and the Chen Ping’an embodying divinity each yielded some space, allowing the timid child, who looked at the world with suspicion, fear, and longing, to sit in the middle. They were like silent guardians, protecting the child who had not yet grown up.

The child sat on the ground, a bamboo basket resting behind him. The basket contained only a thin layer of medicinal herbs. The child hugged his knees, lost in thought.

The Chen Ping’an in crimson robes spoke in a hoarse voice, “Is it because you know growing up will be even more arduous that you refuse to grow up, that you don’t want to become who I am now?”

The green-robed Chen Ping’an with the jade hairpin chuckled, smiling faintly. “So, we were a lazy little rascal who couldn’t bear even a bit of hardship back then. It’s been so long, I almost forgot.”

The Chen Ping’an with his hand on the sword hilt murmured, “What can be done? In the end, we can never return to before the age of five.”

Upon hearing this, the child finally spoke timidly, “We can. We can walk backwards, and we can see Mom and Dad, see them clearly. We’ll never forget their faces again, and we can hear everything they say.”

As he spoke, the child’s feet were shod in a pair of shoes appropriate for his age. They were the only old possession the Mud Bottle Alley orphan hadn’t traded for food with other children. Perhaps he couldn’t bear to part with them, or perhaps others didn’t want them. Whatever the reason, they had remained at his ancestral home.

The child said, aggrieved, “It’s not that you can’t walk back. It’s that you’re unwilling to give up everything you have now. You’ve even abandoned Mom and Dad. I don’t want to become someone like you.”

The divine Chen Ping’an in green robes removed the jade hairpin from his hair, as if gently blowing on the inscriptions carved upon it. He reached out his left hand and gently stroked the child’s head, filled with melancholy. “Silly little one, it’s all false, ultimately false. So the former me wasn’t so understanding and considerate from the start. Or maybe it’s not quite right… Perhaps I simply enjoyed struggling with myself the most?”

The child stared blankly at the scenery beyond the mountain, shrouded in wind and rain, a dark and impenetrable void. He reached out his hand, but could see nothing beyond his fingers.

The true Chen Ping’an raised a hand, moving it from the sword hilt, and gently tapped his chest, like knocking on a door.

The child with the tender face listened intently.

They were on an upside-down mountain within a world of mental imagery, its peak pointing downward, towards the piled-up corpses on the land below.

The child, his face streaked with tears, stood up, shouldered the basket, wiped his tears, and clenched the rope in front of him. He turned to look at the thing that was neither human nor ghost. The child smiled, a hint of a sob in his voice, as if trying to embolden himself, “I’m not afraid of ghosts.”

The divine Chen Ping’an twisted his wrist and offered the child a string of candied hawthorns, smiling. “The smaller ones taste better.”

The true Chen Ping’an seemed to wince, unable to look at the child.

The child hesitated for a moment, then rose to his feet, carried his basket, and tip-toed to pat him gently on the head, as if apologizing, or comforting him, or perhaps simply saying goodbye in silence.

At the same moment.

Millions upon millions of “Chen Ping’an” skeletal remains plummeted downwards, like a heavy snowfall.

The child, wearing his small, warm shoes and carrying his large, heavy basket, walked into the snow.