With a serene smile, Chen Ping’an flicked his sword, the tip trembling, producing a resounding dragon’s roar. Circular ripples of sword light illuminated his face, imbuing it with a radiant spirit of boundless freedom.

Like a caged bird that can only beat its wings against the bars, a frog in a well viewing the heavens as a painted scroll, we, mutually loathing and hindering each other, can finally speak some grand, heartfelt truths to this world.

Hearing these words, Jiang She was not scornful, but rather seemed enlightened. “Now it finally makes sense.”

Ascending mountains to seek immortality, what you fear is what comes? For cultivators, fearing the one in ten thousand chances creates ten thousand tribulations.

Jiang She, after all, was not a Fifteenth Realm cultivator and could not transcend this fate. Tribulations would inevitably arise and fall upon him, impossible to avoid. Jiang She glanced at Chen Ping’an, “Your true age is rather… young.”

To win would be suspected of being a tainted victory, but to lose would be utterly disastrous.

Conversely, this young swordsman, though defeated, would be gloriously so. If he were to win, the future of the world would be unimaginable. How would the heavens-calculating Zou Zi handle himself then?

Jiang She curled his lip and subtly employed a divine power to crush these thoughts and emotions within his mind, turning them into oblivion.

The battle to ascend to heaven was a tribulation of war. The Great Dao strayed, seeking dominance, seizing the ancient ruins of the Heavenly Court, weakening the world to solely exalt the military. This collective strike was the response to the tribulation.

Ten thousand years of imprisonment was another tribulation. Seemingly escaping it, a greater tribulation was at hand. When Jiang She’s Dao Heart rekindled, seeking to reorganize the military, the suppressive might of the Great Dao followed like a shadow.

Jiang She, as the tribulation incarnate of the military’s progenitor, was naturally the coveted opportunity for others. Of course, not everyone was qualified to join this thrilling gamble. Ordinary cultivators, even those who had ascended, if their fate was not strong enough, would be affected by the tribulation’s Dao rhyme and reduced to dust and ashes. Even Fourteenth Realm cultivators would keep their distance, observing from the sidelines. Those who had merged with the heavenly timing, like Fu Yu Xuan, or the earthly advantages, who would dare involve themselves in this situation? A single misstep could mire their own Great Dao, leaving them trapped in an inescapable abyss.

Jiang She felt aggrieved and could not help but curse, “That bastard Cui.”

He had previously thanked Embroidered Tiger, expressing his appreciation. Little did he know he was being swindled and then helping to count the money?

Aside from a few grumbles, Jiang She was unwilling to reveal more of his inner thoughts. To argue and compete with a dead man would be even more frustrating.

Jiang She had considered many possibilities. Among those who might plot to usurp his place upon his return to the world was the Hidden Official, Chen Ping’an, but after deductions and calculations, Chen’s chances were extremely low.

The main reason was not Chen Ping’an’s youth or insufficient realm, but that Chen Ping’an lacked such ambition.

Furthermore, Chen Ping’an’s greatest perceived enemies were White Jade Capital and Yu Dou, both involving personal grievances. Unexpectedly, Chen Ping’an changed his mind, withdrawing his sword from the battlefield. With a flash of sword light, it appeared near the slanting giant pillar connecting heaven and earth in the northwest. Chen Ping’an slowly rolled up his sleeves, shook his wrists, and smiled, “Then as you wish, let’s practice first, so this junior can learn from the immense strength of an Eleventh Realm martial artist…” Before Chen Ping’an could finish speaking, Jiang She was already upon him, a fist striking Chen Ping’an’s chest. The robes and hair around Chen Ping’an’s temples flew wildly, and a crisp, pleasant chime echoed through the world, the sound of Chen Ping’an’s bones resonating. His body flew back over a thousand zhang like a kite with a broken string, golden blood seeping from his seven orifices, scattering onto the ground. Jiang She, succeeding in his attack, paid no heed to the strange golden blood. In the next instant, Jiang She caught up with Chen Ping’an, his hands stacked back to back, fingers like hooks, plunging straight into Chen Ping’an’s chest. With a sudden tear, he ripped Chen Ping’an’s body apart. Jiang She squinted and stood firm, casually wiping the golden blood splattered on his face. His face and palms sizzled, emitting wisps of green smoke that drifted into the air. Jiang She was oblivious to the burning sensation, looking around. The scattered golden blood did not mingle with the dust but displayed various anomalies, each revealing the manifestation of the Great Dao. It transformed into rows of jade towers and pavilions, mountains as small as mounds of earth, and rivers with hundreds of water palaces, miniature like strings. Even more wondrously, in the majestic mountains, cranes cried, True Lords preached, and celestial maidens scattered flowers. Within the winding rivers, some areas were misty and boundless, while others were rapids with boats like arrows…

Jiang She chuckled, still pretending to be mysterious, truly thinking himself the Heavenly Duke. Jiang She slightly dispersed his divine sense, combined with deduction and calculation, following the flow of the river of time and the direction of the world’s spiritual energy, like a god surveying his territory, covering every inch of the ruins. Which military strategist who had his name etched into the history books wasn’t a master of geography? Jiang She tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Found you, kid.” Jiang She did not shrink the mountains and rivers, but instead pulled a bow as full as the moon, the two fingers that held the “bowstring” released with a bang. A “arrow” as thick as a well opening, not a straight line, but like a wild dragon meandering on the ground.

Somewhere, like a thousand mirrors shattered by an arrow, countless shards of colored glass burst open, dazzling and eye-catching. Chen Ping’an first used a thick boxing energy to arrange a formation in front, a fanciful idea, using the Iron Cavalry Battering Formation from the boxing manual, layer upon layer blocking the force of the speeding arrow, then trying to use a normal Iron Cavalry Battering Formation to resist the arrow, but it was futile. Not only was his fist shattered by the arrow, but his entire arm was also smashed to pieces… Where he stood, Chen Ping’an was missing an arm, the ground around him covered in golden blood, this time manifesting as a large patch of golden flowers and trees, of varying heights, swaying gracefully, like a celestial garden.

The Eleventh Realm’s fist, indeed, could not be blocked.

Chen Ping’an stood motionless, expressionless, millions of golden threads spreading from the severed arm, instantly restoring it to its original state.

As expected, the path of martial arts to godhood was the most direct. In ancient times, it was the “pure stream” orthodox path, while refining Qi to become an immortal was the “turbid stream” unorthodox path.

Simply put, the Eleventh Realm’s fists and feet were unstoppable, but today’s battlefield, Jiang She using them against half of Chen Ping’an, seemed ineffective.
Having received solid verification, Chen Ping’an felt relieved and reciprocated with a smile, “I must also feel a bit embarrassed for you, senior.”

Jiang She did not take it to heart and asked, “I heard you have a signature fist technique called the Divine Mortal Drumbeat, learned from Cui Cheng of Bao Ping Continent. Is it not vulgar?”

Chen Ping’an nodded, “It is indeed not vulgar.”

Jiang She smiled and asked, “Grandmaster Chen, you don’t actually think that the eleventh realm is just this little bit of skill, do you?”

Chen Ping’an asked, puzzled, “Is it not?”

Jiang She said calmly, “Undoubtedly, the fist is a good fist. But if Cui Cheng were here, I could teach him what the true Divine Mortal Drumbeat is.”

It is said that Chen Ping’an, in the Sword Qi Great Wall, neglected his duties as the second shopkeeper and created the Hundred Sword Immortals and the Sword Immortal Manual.

For ten thousand years, Jiang She has lived in seclusion in the mountains, overlooking the mortal world. If he were to compile a Hundred Fist Manual from the many flourishing martial arts of the world, Cui Cheng would have two or three fists worthy of inclusion.

Chen Ping’an raised an eyebrow, intending to let this progenitor of the military strategist school experience the rustic language of his hometown, but the words changed as they reached his lips, “We shall see.”

Jiang She tutted, “So slow to realize. No wonder you lost four matches to Cao Ci, not the least bit unjust.”

Although Jiang She showed no signs of making a move, Chen Ping’an felt as if facing a great enemy, adopting a fighting stance and delivering a punch of cloud-steaming marsh towards the sky.

It turned out that Jiang She’s first punch was already using the Divine Mortal Drumbeat.

The majestic fist energy, like a heavy sea of clouds, was pressed down by a celestial being, instantly falling low and about to connect with the ground, becoming one with it.

A moment later, except for where Chen Ping’an stood, the ground within dozens of miles had sunk twenty or thirty feet, and the shocking cracks and ravines were all from the joints and lines of the palm.

Chen Ping’an raised his hand to wipe his face and shook his head, pouring out the blood from his ears.

The power of just one punch was like a celestial tribulation pressing down.

Chen Ping’an took a deep breath, not because he couldn’t bear the pain. To be honest, this little injury was nothing.

But the suffocating feeling of seeing the fist as if seeing the heavens was really unbearable. Jiang She sneered, “It’s fine if the fourteenth realm and Ascension Realm cultivators are ignorant bystanders who underestimate the martial arts eleventh realm. But you are a martial artist who has reached the Gui Zhen realm and is approaching perfection, someone who has entered the hall, how dare you be so careless?”

“That old hag Feng Yi, who is now hiding in the capital of Great Li, didn’t tell you how heavy Jiang She’s fists were on the path to ascension back then? And how did Nan Zan’s coachman receive only two punches that caused the first crack to appear in his golden body?”

As he spoke, Jiang She still stood in the distance, without even pausing for breath, and unleashed more than a dozen punches in one go, leaving Chen Ping’an with nowhere to hide, forcing him to take the punches and endure them with his physical body.

Jiang She shook his head, “You and Cui Cheng are ultimately just the bodies of the Gui Zhen realm, unable to support the true meaning of these fist techniques, unable to truly carry them forward.”

“You think I’m stealing the fist?”

Jiang She’s face was full of disdain as he asked and answered himself, “It’s just that ten thousand years later, a martial artist named Cui happened to think of the same thing as me.”

After more than thirty punches, Chen Ping’an’s almost flawless and boundless golden body collapsed on the spot. Just as he condensed his figure in the distance, more than twenty punches arrived again.

Clusters of golden light scattered and gathered, and the earth was filled with sudden collapsing pits and a series of muffled thunder.

If this were a different battlefield and a different opponent, wouldn’t he be able to kill Ascension Realm cultivators like picking grass?

Jiang She seemed a little bored, a little unenthusiastic, and yawned.

Ignoring the state of the battlefield, Jiang She turned to look at the long sword and asked the biggest question in his heart, “What was that Heavenly Court Lord thinking back then?”

Country school.

Full of food and drink, Jiang Shangzhen lay on the rattan chair, imitating the old cook’s gentle fanning with a cattail leaf fan, and said softly, “Ning Ji, in fact, your background is not ordinary.”

Ning Ji was a little surprised, wondering why Mr. Jiang would take the initiative to bring up this topic, hesitating to speak. After these days of being together, Ning Ji really admired Mr. Jiang’s ability to adapt to local customs, being able to chat with the farmers and village women for hours, crossing his legs and joking around. Even the stray dogs in the village were willing to follow Mr. Jiang.

Ning Ji had been to Fallen Mountain and heard some things. Back here, he almost forgot Mr. Jiang’s titles and certain mountain reputations.

Jiang Shangzhen continued to ask, “Can you understand what I’m saying?”

Ning Ji nodded.

Jiang Shangzhen was intent on getting to the root of the matter, “Then I’m curious, how do you understand it? Let’s see if there are any deviations between what you think and what I guess.” Ning Ji hesitated for a moment and chose to be honest, “If it was just Mr. taking me as a student, I might not think too much about it. At most, after thinking about it, I would think that maybe the kind-hearted Mr. had a heart of compassion, and I was lucky to meet Mr. But with the addition of the Jade Capital Head Teacher Lu, who also said that I could regard him as a… junior master, then I would have to be a fool to not know that things are not that simple.”

Jiang Shangzhen hmm-ed, “So, in order to accept you as a student, our Mountain Master Chen has taken on considerable involvement and a lot of karma. As a result, there are bound to be some accidents.”

Ning Ji was silent. “Relax, don’t be anxious or nervous. Telling you this truth is not to make you study hard, cultivate diligently, or avoid wasting your talents, nor is it to burden you, as if Ning Ji’s every tomorrow must be lived a little harder to be worthy of Chen Ping’an’s choice of yesterday. It’s not like that. To be honest, if I had this intention and Chen Ping’an found out one day, with his temper, he would beat the shit out of me… Then Jiang would no longer be the chief offering.”

Perhaps Jiang Shangzhen’s words were humorous, and Ning Ji grinned, his mood lightening a bit. Jiang Shangzhen continued, “I just hope that a teenager whose fate is full of ups and downs but who has finally waited for his time to come, will in the future, when encountering things that feel particularly wronged and incomprehensible, can feel a little less wronged and can tell himself one or two sentences in his heart, ‘Be patient, look more, and think more.’ Even if you don’t understand, there will always be one or two people in the future who can help you solve the puzzle. If that doesn’t work, go complain to Mr.”
Ning Ji nodded, “Understood.”

Jiang Shangzhen sat up and handed the cattail fan to Ning Ji, saying, “Looks like I’m going on a long trip.”

Ning Ji softly asked, “Master Jiang is…?”

Jiang Shangzhen smiled, “Taking care of a matter that shouldn’t be spread.”

Ning Ji was a little worried about Master Jiang, and again hesitated to speak.

Jiang Shangzhen said, “Your teacher, back then, said a strange thing to me. He said precisely because of this, he must protect you well. I can barely understand this thought, but I certainly can’t do such a thing.”

“Only because I feel Jiang Shangzhen is unique in this world. I am not like anyone, and no one is like me. But Chen Ping’an feels that he is like many old men, and many young men will be like him.”

Standing next to the rattan chair and Ning Ji, Jiang Shangzhen chuckled self-deprecatingly, “This is beyond my comprehension.”

Standing in this swaying world, hiding in the tranquil heart-village.

Perhaps each of us has a heart-mansion that we close the doors to, be it large or small.

The path outside the door, wide or narrow, leading to the distance, is probably called a dream.

Before leaving, Jiang Shangzhen asked, “Ning Ji, tell me, your teacher and I are clearly two different types of people, how did we get mixed up together? And have a decent relationship?”

Ning Ji shook his head, “Master Jiang, allow me to think about it? When you return to the school to teach, I’ll tell you the answer?”

Jiang Shangzhen laughed loudly, “Think about what? Don’t you already have the answer? If I’m not mistaken, it’s one word, money!”

—

Yuan Ying deliberately lagged behind the group, creating a long distance between herself and the others, walking alone on this foreign road. Unnamed wildflowers bloomed splendidly, their fragrance wafting in the air. Yuan Ying lifted her embroidered shoes and gently brushed past a patch of delicate yellow dwarf flowers.

She occasionally turned her head to look back, as if waiting for someone to catch up.

She hailed from the Poetry and Song Blessed Land of the Azure Vault Heaven. Her two masters, however, were both cultivators of the Vast Expanse. Her first master, Liu Qi, and her second master, Cao Zu, were both her teachers and had raised her. In truth, there wasn’t much to discuss about cultivation matters, as Yuan Ying’s innate talent made cultivation as natural as breathing for a mortal scholar.

Liu Qi took the initiative to bring up the elusive Night-Sailing Ship, giving Yuan Ying the opportunity to take a tour. For example, she could visit the cities of Item and Spirit Rhino over there.

Yuan Ying joked, “First Master, why don’t you and Second Master join our sect? It would be more lively.”

Liu Qi raised his head and looked at the group ahead, shaking his head without saying anything.

Besides Zhang Fenghai, who was already a solid Fourteenth Realm cultivator, there was also the martial artist Xin Ku, one of the top ten in the Azure Vault Heaven.

There was also Lu Bixia, one of the ten candidates, who served as the Sect’s Discipline Master.

The female patriarch of the Immortal Staff Sect of Yongzhou, Shi Xingyuan, went by the title “Cloud Catcher.” She was in charge of the sect’s purse strings. Her realm wasn’t high, but her authority was great.

Such a sect, even with so few members, was not to be underestimated.

At the front of the group, the Deputy Sect Leader was stirring up trouble with the Sect Leader, “Sect Leader, if we just take out that White Robe from the Northern Ju Continent, we’ll be the sect with the fewest members! Doesn’t that tempt you?” Seeing that the Sect Leader didn’t seem interested, Lu Tai continued to instigate, “I heard he only recently advanced to the Ascension Realm a few days ago. So what if White Robe is a sword cultivator? His realm is unstable. With all of us swarming him, wouldn’t the Great White Sword Immortal be thrown into disarray? Once his Dao-heart is disrupted, Brother Xin Ku can smash him with his massive fist, then Master Lu can follow up with a Daoist art, and I can seize the opportunity to deliver a Black Tiger Heart Grab, killing him in one blow…”

Although they hadn’t known each other for long, Wuming Shi somewhat admired Lu Tai’s thick skin and absurd way of speaking. At the same time, he admired Zhang Fenghai’s magnanimity even more. To have someone nagging in his ear like that every day, could he really stand it? Didn’t it bother him?

Zhang Fenghai smiled, “Just ignore him, and over time, you’ll get used to it. If you don’t respond, see how many thousands of words he can blather in one breath. Just treat it as listening to a storyteller for free.”

Wuming Shi nodded with a smile, “Indeed, that’s a good method.”

Shi Xingyuan rolled her eyes, “Deputy Sect Leader Lu, say a few less nonsense words and talk about something serious.” Even when traveling far across the world, Shi Xingyuan still dressed in the same style as she would at Jade Capital’s Smoke Glow Cave. She was a slender woman with dark skin, a wooden hairpin in her hair, and cloth dress and cotton shoes, like a young peasant woman who had worked in the fields for many years. Among this imposing group of immortals, Shi Xingyuan stood out.

Lu Tai complained, “When addressing official positions, don’t omit ‘Deputy.’ Do you understand official etiquette?”

Shi Xingyuan was helpless and spoke to Zhang Fenghai in a mental voice, “Sect Leader, why don’t you establish a sect rule that prohibits Lu Tai from speaking altogether?”

Zhang Fenghai also ignored him. Lu Tai coughed a few times, cleared his throat, and began to recount some very old stories, “In the ancient years, the Heaven and Earth were divine, the Heavenly Dao was unfathomable. Then, in the human world, a large number of shamans and priests appeared. They were responsible for entertaining the gods, officiating at sacrifices, and writing eulogies, also known as spirit communicators. They are like deciphering texts and interpreting the changes of Heaven and Earth, explaining the joys and sorrows of the heavens for us. However, because our human bodies were too weak, we were often captured and slaughtered by the physically strong demons, used as food to satisfy their hunger. In the early days, humans had almost no power to fight back, leading to a decline in incense offerings. The old Heavenly Court gods felt that this would not do. One by one, the thunder department’s various gods, accompanied by great Heavenly might, first came to the human world and slayed those stubborn demons, whose corpses piled up like mountains, but this only addressed the symptoms.”

“What to do?” “Either completely slaughter the demons who were eating people everywhere, or make the humans, who were worse than ants, a little… bigger. Later generations of Confucian classics have disputes over antiquity and modernity, and so do people. For example, we belong to the category of modern people, but the first ancestor of the Military School and his group of old fellows are truly worthy of being called ‘ancient people’. The gods began to give us a strong body, and gave us a little more soul. The ancient people’s one soul and two spirits became the modern people’s three souls and six spirits.”

Lu Bixia asked, “Isn’t it three souls and seven spirits?”

Lu Tai smiled, “The last spirit was found by ancient Taoists after countless hardships, and was not given by the gods.”

Shi Xingyuan suddenly realized, “No wonder people offer incense in temples in later generations, either three, six, or nine times.”

Lu Tai glared, “I didn’t say that! Can’t it be like a painting or calligraphy seal, where one or three are used to supplement Yang with odd numbers?”
Lu Tai swiftly clasped his hands together in a respectful salute, muttering under his breath for a moment, before adopting a solemn expression. “When learned scholars and refined gentlemen pour out their hearts and minds, composing books and treatises as a testament to their own experiences, it is often described as offering ‘a sprig of heart’s incense.'”

Earlier, when mentioning the words “capture and kill,” Lu Tai had intentionally cast a sidelong glance at the nameless figure.

Lu Tai turned his head, looking towards Li Huai, and asked with a cheerful smile, “Suppose the long river of time is but a censer, Li Huai, guess what the fresh incense is?”

Li Huai shook his head. He was never good at riddles or solving puzzles.

Xin Ku replied, “Your seven corporeal souls are the censer, and your three ethereal souls are the incense.”

Upon hearing such an outlandish answer, Li Huai was shocked and couldn’t help but feel doubtful. What did he mean by “your”? Lu Tai chuckled, “The Dao Ancestor was the first to propose the Dao of Heaven and the Dao of Humanity. That’s how the notion of ‘offerings’ came to be. As such, the pantheon of gods in the ancient Heavenly Court were no longer the sole and undisputed orthodoxy of the Heavenly Dao. ‘Heavenly Dao,’ it seemed, had the nascent form of an old and new distinction. The path of cultivation for Qi Refiners, Daoists, scholars, and the masters of the Hundred Schools of Thought, now had a foundation in the Great Dao.”

“There was a path.”

“A path that was righteous and legitimate. Later, the Little Sage, also known as our Sage of Rites, severed the connection between Heaven and Earth and cast the Nine Cauldrons on the mountaintop.” “Before that, how to breathe, eat, sleep, how to walk, why there was thought, where thoughts came from, where they went… such simple questions became the most difficult. Over time, that became Qi Refinement. Those who understood it cultivated the Dao. During this period, of course, there were also countless spells raining down, a true act of providing charcoal in the snow. A group of ancient ‘Daoists’ who cultivated into human form even broke through the bottleneck of the Golden Body Realm. From then on, they ascended to immortality, traveling far and wide, riding the clear breeze, mounting the clouds, their forms soaring higher than birds, admiring the scenery in the bright moon, seeking enlightenment in the Sun Palace… They achieved the Mountain Peak Realm, the three levels of the Limit: Vigorous Qi, Return to Truth, Divine Arrival…”

Hearing this, Li Huai couldn’t help but ask softly, “Doesn’t Heaven care?”

Lu Tai was filled with a sense of dread. “Care? How could they not care?” “An ant may be a little bigger, but it’s still an ant. Daoists and martial artists huddling together for warmth, they’re still just an anthill. When the gods descend, they slaughter humanity, making all sentient beings tremble in fear, not daring to overstep the slightest boundary.”

“Do you know how vast the human territory was at that time? So vast that when gods descended upon the world, they needed two Ascension Platforms as pathways?”

“If martial arts and Daoist techniques share the same origin but different streams…”

After all, each sprig of heart’s incense rising from the mortal realm was a divine pathway to Heaven.

Just then, Lu Tai was struck as if by lightning, his face paling slightly. He hurriedly warned, “Not good! An ambush!”

The nameless figure couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. After all, those who dared to make trouble here were either fools seeking death or top-tier experts.

Far away, Yuan Ying was startled. Liu Qi smiled and said, “You really like this kind of person? Isn’t he a bit unreliable?”

Seeing her master’s casual expression, Yuan Ying felt relieved and said with her heart’s voice, “He’s too pessimistic. When I see him, I can’t help but feel sorry for him.”

Liu Qi nodded. “So, you’ve come to understand Lu Tai.”

Ahead by the roadside, an emaciated old man with a refined appearance and an unremarkable middle-aged man appeared out of thin air, like a wealthy man and his porter.

Yuan Ying had two masters, and so did Lu Tai.

Lu Tai wasn’t surprised at all. The appearance of the two disseminators of the Dao was a matter of course, sooner or later.

On the mountain, there were only a handful of people who you could identify by their surname alone.

Zou was one.

Jiang She never exchanged his pure true energy for another.

From beginning to end, Chen Ping’an was utterly unable to fight back. Countless drops of golden blood scattered on the ground, revitalizing a ruined ancient battlefield. First, there were mountains and rivers, then cities and fortresses, and then the myriad aspects of mortal life, like a vivid painting of the human world. All that was left was for “various figures” to settle within, and then the land would have an owner and truly come to life.

The only imperfection, a blemish on the jade, was that over seventy crisscrossing “ropes” were stretched across the heavens and earth, all enduring boxing energies, like iron wires cutting through the soft tofu-like space.

Jiang She merely frowned slightly, already holding this person in high regard. But it seemed he was even more troublesome than expected? Would it be difficult to achieve the quick victory he had envisioned earlier?

He glanced at the long sword out of the corner of his eye.

Whether the old sword hanging from the stone arch bridge in the Li Zhu Grotto was the manifestation of the sword spirit or the true form of one of the Five Supremes, it didn’t really matter.

The beginning is always the hardest. Once a contract was made, it was a great path destined not to be abandoned halfway.

As a native-born kiln apprentice, the benefits that this sword gave to its contracted owner on the path of cultivation were too few, excessively few.

Jiang She founded the school of strategy, one of the roots of the Great Dao, which held that the timing of Heaven, the advantage of Earth, and the harmony of Man, all things must be used as easily as one’s own limbs.

Failing to make full use of a “sword spirit” was simply a waste of natural resources.

It was like a poor family unable to afford food having a priceless scholar’s item, using it as decoration year after year. To what end? Starving every day, just to feast one’s eyes?

In Jiang She’s view, perhaps the two senior brothers within the lineage of the Sage of Literature, Qi Jingchun and Cui, held differing opinions, each adhering to one extreme, their learnings difficult to reconcile. Qi Jingchun, who persuaded the “sword spirit” to acknowledge its master, was a pure Confucian scholar, so he didn’t want Chen Ping’an to have his heart and nature overly influenced by external objects. He wanted Chen Ping’an to intentionally maintain a distance from the sword spirit, establishing a sixty-year pact, so that the latter’s duty would be more like an invisible protective charm, not needing to manifest, only to deter a small group of mountain peak cultivators, so they wouldn’t rely on their cultivation and realms to act recklessly. Whoever broke the rules would risk losing even the rules of the mortal world.

In the process, of course, there were those who didn’t believe in the supernatural and were eager to make trouble. Therefore, the revival ancestor of the Tongye Sect in the Ascension Realm became a ready-made example, used to warn the figures behind the scenes.

Even the immortal remains of Du Mao were still private property of Fallen Mountain. The disciples recorded in the ancestral hall of the Tongye Sect would undoubtedly know the inside story, but who would dare say anything?
Those who knew something of Fallen Mountain and Mountain Owner Chen understood why Chen Ping’an always respectfully addressed Qi Jingchun as “Mr. Qi” instead of “Uncle-Master.” Qi Jingchun was to Chen Ping’an like a learned tutor in a wealthy family, imparting the skills needed for imperial examinations to a young pupil. Both the teacher and student aimed for sagehood and enlightenment. Suddenly, the slightly older youth declared he would abandon his studies, run to the mountains, become an outlaw, and rebel to seize the throne and become emperor.

Because everyone understood the profound influence of Qi Jingchun on Chen Ping’an, Jiang She found Chen Ping’an’s bold declaration of “establishing a sect and claiming ancestry” extremely jarring.

If Cao Ci, who was equally young, had uttered such “heretical words,” Jiang She would not have found it unusual, at most a little surprised. Cui advocated for pragmatic learning, blending and forging together various schools of thought. The Book Brief Lake forced Chen Ping’an to lose a golden literary heart. Not only could he not read ten thousand books and travel ten thousand miles, even if he read millions and trillions of books and traveled across several continents, journeying through all of humanity, he would still completely lose the possibility of cultivating his own natal character. Later, at the Sword Qi Great Wall, Chen Ping’an merged with half of the Sword Qi Great Wall, completely losing the chance to remotely project his Yin Spirit or manifest his Yang Spirit.

The key was Cui’s attitude toward Chen Ping’an, which was always like the official evaluations of incompetent officials: low ability, poor aptitude, weak Dao heart, and unfit for great responsibility.

Would it turn out that Cui and Qi Jingchun, these two martial brothers, were just putting on a show, a smokescreen? In his vision, Chen Ping’an reverted to his original appearance, as if guessing Jiang She’s thoughts. Chen Ping’an smiled and said, “You might be mistaken. Among our Literary Sage lineage, the one with the worst temper is Mr. Qi. The one with the best personality and patience is actually Senior Brother Cui.”

“For example, dismantling the Righteous Yang Mountain was a little trick I learned from Senior Brother Cui. Successfully questioning the Righteous Yang Mountain with my sword, and then erecting a stele afterward, was something I learned from Mr. Qi.”

As he spoke, the landscapes dissolved like flowing water, merging with their master.

Jiang She had seen too many supernatural arts and techniques, so he wasn’t surprised. This method of Chen Ping’an’s wasn’t too alarming. Although it didn’t consume Dao power or spiritual energy, it did consume mental energy.

“Didn’t you feel like you didn’t have enough opportunities to exchange blows with peak martial artists in this life? Today, I’ll let you have your fill, to the point of vomiting.”

“Pei Bei, Zhang Tiaoxia, Li Er, Song Changjing, Wu Shu, Ye Yunyun, Wang Fu, I’ll have these few peak martial artists each deliver their most powerful punches against you. Is that enough?”

Those peak martial artists, summoned by Jiang She’s command, lined up between him and Chen Ping’an.

Like a battlefield, spears and halberds, upright and righteous, unstoppable. Peak martial artists formed a formation, a line of rising tide, repelling ten thousand cavalry.

It seemed Chen Ping’an had been waiting for this moment.

He exhaled softly, steadied his mind, and began to run forward. Jiang She, having not obtained the truth from the “Sword Holder,” was curious about something and couldn’t help but ask, “Chen Qingdu isn’t stingy. You’ve done so much for him, and you’re half a son-in-law of the Sword Qi Great Wall. With Chen Qingdu’s habit of owing money, owing wine, owing swords, owing everything except favors, and you being a junior he appreciates, he should have given you something. That gift must be substantial. Why are you still hiding it, thinking you haven’t reached a desperate situation yet? Are you afraid of having your secrets divined by those fortune tellers in White Jade Capital, losing the advantage for your next invincible sword inquiry?”

Speaking of “Truly Unrivaled,” Jiang She laughed to himself, “Truly Unrivaled, what a fine Daoist name. Why didn’t Bai Jing snatch it?”

At this moment, Chen Ping’an naturally had no time to answer this question.

Because Jiang She had summoned even more “peak martial artists,” top heroes from various eras, all famous martial arts masters with their own forms of invincibility.

Each of their punches was refined to perfection, reaching the pinnacle of skill.

Coincidentally, Jiang She only needed to expend a little mental energy, without needing to mobilize even a trace of heaven and earth’s spiritual energy.

Jiang She watched the figure on the battlefield, struggling to cope, and found it increasingly uninteresting. “Practicing martial arts, in the end, only gets you a strong body, a turtle shell. Are there any punches that are truly your own?”

“Being careful not to make mistakes, only following in the footsteps of your predecessors, is indeed easy and effortless. Yet you dare to dream of surpassing Cao Ci?”

Jiang She saw Chen Ping’an have half his face blown off by a punch from “Pei Bei,” and almost have his neck broken by a peak martial artist from the barbaric wilderness…

Jiang She shook his head, losing patience. “You, Chen Ping’an, dare to hope to kill Jiang She, to speak of establishing a sect and claiming ancestry?!”

After all, each peak martial artist only delivered a few punches that were the most significant and full of intent in their lives, giving Chen Ping’an, who was in a perilous situation, a little respite and a chance to breathe.

It seemed that the kid was still tough, with a few words of his hometown dialect faintly audible.

Jiang She smiled and said, “Kid, showing off your fists in front of me, do you know what that’s called? It’s called…”

“Returning to your Ancestors!”

On the battlefield, dust flew, obscuring the sky, gradually engulfing all the martial artists. The various punch intents converged and intertwined, already solidified and as thick as water. Was Chen Ping’an trying to hone his martial arts by receiving punches, taking the opportunity to break through the barrier of returning to simplicity? Dare he be so arrogant in a life-or-death battle, in a clash of Great Daos? Jiang She didn’t know when he had changed positions, his expression solemn, gently lifting the long spear “Breaker of Formations.” Both the man and the spear hadn’t been used to break through formations in ten thousand years. Looking at the tiny mustard seed-like figure in the distance, the progenitor of the military strategists seemed disappointed. Jiang She, holding the long spear, slowly moved forward, toward the gradually clearing battlefield, saying indifferently, “In times when there are no heroes, fools become famous, completely unaware of the immensity of heaven and earth.”