As the old Daoist priest took more steps, new peach blossoms bloomed one after another.

Song Yunjian was utterly astonished; the number was already approaching eight hundred.

During a leisurely trip to the Great Li Capital, this peach tree had bloomed nearly two hundred new flowers due to the old Daoist priest’s presence.

Song Yunjian narrowed his eyes and smiled, muttering a pleasant line of poetry to himself: “In future years, bear the fruit of a thousand years; the Heavenly Lord demonstrates the art of creation.”

The peach tree was laden with blossoms. The handsome Daoist in his golden crown and jade robe, wearing cloud-patterned shoes, stood among the flowers, a picture of human beauty against the blossoms, truly a sight to behold.

A sarcastic laugh echoed beside him, “Fellow Daoist Yingning, you truly dream big. A dynasty with a thousand years of history belongs in the Azure Netherworld. What, thanks to the Hidden Official, the entire city ascended, and now that you’ve returned to your homeland and become a National Preceptor, you wish for the entire nation to ascend, even the chickens and dogs, and relocate to the Azure Netherworld?”

Upon hearing this, Song Yunjian hurriedly turned and offered a respectful bow to the old Daoist priest, saying with shame, “It was my senior’s arrogance getting the better of him.”

The old Daoist priest’s sarcasm deepened, “What arrogance? What has gotten the better of you? Do you think you are Lu Laosan, who shed his mortal coil?”

Song Yunjian didn’t know how to respond and wisely remained silent.

The old Daoist priest said, “Cherish your Dao body, bear responsibility.”

Song Yunjian was overjoyed, “This junior will keep it firmly in mind.”

The old Daoist priest gave him a sidelong glance.

Song Yunjian added, “I will also convey this to National Preceptor Chen.”

The old Daoist priest sighed, “Stubborn mule. Talking is truly exhausting.”

Song Yunjian was unsure where he had gone wrong, so he simply kept quiet to avoid making more mistakes.

The old Daoist priest’s attention shifted to the adjacent courtyard and he remarked, “Sword cultivators are truly remarkable, each one more impulsive than the last. They are not as focused as a young girl practicing martial arts.”

Song Yunjian dared not and should not interject, as the criticism was directed at Zhusu and Yuan Huajing, while the praise was for the National Preceptor’s foremost disciple, Pei Qian.

The old Daoist priest said, “Zhusu, Yuan Huajing, stop your blind guessing, come here for a chat.”

Zhusu and Yuan Huajing immediately rushed to the peach tree.

The old Daoist deliberately kept the female sword immortal, who was of a higher cultivation level, to the side. He stared at Yuan Huajing and asked with narrowed eyes, “Young man, why did you use the word ‘nature’?”

Song Yunjian immediately felt worried for this Sword Immortal Yuan.

Yuan Huajing, however, was not as apprehensive as Song Yunjian. Being a sword cultivator, he replied, “While Senior Bixiao’s Great Dao aligns with the three realms, in this junior’s view, it still does not escape the broad framework of ‘Dao follows nature’.”

The old Daoist priest chuckled, “That sounds like the way an old scholar speaks.”

A similar tone, yet a difference of a hundred and eight thousand miles in understanding.

Yuan Huajing blushed with embarrassment.

The old Daoist priest clasped his hands behind his back, looking up at the peach blossoms. “Embroidered Tiger has finally laid the foundation for a peaceful and prosperous era for humanity.”

“Since that is the case, this poor Daoist must accept the favor. There is no need for that cunning fellow to beat around the bush and persuade me through Little Mo in the future.”

He remembered the old scholar bringing his foremost disciple, Cui Chan. The master and disciple had secretly visited the Guan Dao Temple once. On the surface, they didn’t discuss important human affairs or the general situation of the world; they just chatted idly, building rapport and getting close, while also enjoying good wine and praising the excellence of his few students.

Yuan Huajing asked the question he was most curious about, interrupting the old Daoist’s thoughts, “Senior Bixiao, is the difference between the new and old Fourteenth Realm truly as vast as clouds and mud?”

The old Daoist priest chuckled, “Among the new Fourteenth Realm, one or two generals can be singled out from the short ones. Among the old Fourteenth Realm, there are also some soft persimmons, some donkey dung eggs.”

In short, “This poor Daoist is strong enough.”

Yuan Huajing understood.

The old Daoist priest walked around the peach tree once, then turned his head to look at Cui Chan’s study. “It’s a pity he is unwilling or disdains to bare his heart to the world. How many grand pronouncements that could have been fulfilled are missing from this human realm?”

Song Yunjian was surprised to find that not a single additional peach blossom had bloomed.

The old Daoist priest cast a sidelong glance at Fellow Daoist Yingning. Song Yunjian immediately calmed his mind.

The old Daoist priest looked at the skeletal puppet behind Yuan Huajing, shook his wrist, and conjured a snow-white fly whisk with a gilded handle out of thin air. He lightly waved it at the remains of the Three Courtyard Dharma Lord’s Dao body.

In an instant, flesh grew upon the bones, and the Three Courtyard Dharma Lord’s appearance from before the heavenly tribulation in the ancient era was restored, turning decay into wonder.

The Daoist, with the appearance of a young man, had clear eyes and a dense aura of Dao energy. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that the skeletal Daoist had reappeared in the world through ancient secret methods.

Yuan Huajing was astonished to discover that the skeletal Daoist’s Dao power had instantly increased by thirty percent.

The old Daoist priest instructed, “Yuan Huajing, do not disgrace an ancient Daoist who reached the Fourteenth Realm.”

Yuan Huajing said in a deep voice, “This junior will never treat him merely as a puppet.”

The old Daoist priest raised the fly whisk, pointed at the skeletal Daoist, and reminded Yuan Huajing, “This poor Daoist has left a seed of True Spirit within him. If it can blossom and bear fruit in the coming years, it will be the reincarnation of the Three Courtyard Dharma Lord. It could be as short as three to five hundred years, or it could be indefinitely long, perhaps not even seeing the light of day until this Dao body completely decays. But if it succeeds, I believe Yuan Huajing’s Dao power at that time will not be weak. You won’t need to rely on the skeletal Daoist to escort you on the path of cultivation. Otherwise, a sword heart that lingers on external things for too long is not a good thing and prevents breaking through major bottlenecks.”

The concept of “memory” is indescribable. Over the past ten thousand years, only a handful of seekers of the Dao have been able to trace its origins.

Yuan Huajing followed his heart and promised, “Senior, please rest assured. If the skeletal Daoist can truly revive a spark of spiritual light, I will respect him as a conveyor of the Dao and a protector of the Dao. I will voluntarily sever the contract and restore his freedom, sparing no effort to help him cultivate the Great Dao again.”

The old Daoist priest stroked his beard and praised, “Being able to forge good karma is a great skill. If you can turn bad karma into good karma, that is true heroism.”

Yuan Huajing was genuinely apprehensive. “Is the senior making a sarcastic remark?”

Since he had called out the sword cultivator Zhusu, the old Daoist priest handed her a Daoist scripture, “This is the manuscript of Fellow Daoist Yunshen from the wild lands. It offers some insights into comprehending the Three Sounds, which will be beneficial for your sword refinement. Study it meticulously, word by word, sentence by sentence, do not let anything slip by.”

Zhusu accepted the Daoist scripture with both hands. This was the first time she had exchanged simple sword techniques from her homeland with an outsider in Haoran. She didn’t offer any words of thanks.

The old Daoist nodded, formed an ancient Daoist mudra in return, and then continued, “Tell Chen Ping’an to remember one thing: when he goes to the wild lands in the future, he must help Master Yan undergo the tribulation of body dissolution. It must not be later than sixty years, otherwise, Master Yan will fail to merge with the Dao and fall into an eternal abyss. At that time, this debt will be settled on his head, Chen Ping’an.”

“Today, this poor Daoist can make the peach tree bloom two hundred more flowers; in future years, this poor Daoist can make every page of your Daoist scripture have peach blossoms as bookmarks.”

Such a great Dao covenant, like a battle between immortals, what could Zhusu participate in? She could only agree.

The old Daoist thought for a moment and instructed, “Zhusu, remind him again that there is no longer any flimsy excuse for him to say he couldn’t learn the ‘Quan’ character of Master Three Mountains and Nine Marquises, claiming he was too thick-skinned.”

Zhusu nodded, silently committing the old Daoist priest’s words to memory, word for word.

The old Daoist priest looked at them and said, “Those who study the Dao should not always blame heaven and earth. Know that there is no good or evil in heaven, but there is karma in the human realm. This karma is chaotic, seemingly intricate and tangled. Those who study the Dao might consider it from a different perspective, taking one matter, one object, one’s own self as a thread, and with perseverance and great determination, follow the vine all the way. Those who see the clear脉络 see themselves, see their hearts, and see the Dao. If you say that heaven and earth are already like this, you must exert your own effort painstakingly and see gradual results.”

Song Yunjian and the other two humbly accepted the teachings, each gaining their own understanding, and sincerely offered a bow to the old Daoist priest.

The old Daoist priest said, “Those who study the Dao should often discuss Daoist methods with each other, be willing to open their hearts, and dare to be honest. This is better than blindly working in isolation.”

After a moment of hesitation, the old Daoist priest said, “If you have the chance, talk more with Chen Ping’an. This boy has many ideas and a broad perspective. Chatting with him will always benefit you more.”

Afterward, Yuan Huajing took the “skeletal Daoist” who seemed to have come alive and took his leave. If Zhusu didn’t have to escort the Great Li Emperor tomorrow, she would have immediately returned to the thatched cottage on Huanghu Mountain for secluded cultivation to properly refine her Dao heart.

The old Daoist stood under the peach tree.

Seeing that Song Yunjian was still holding the dry tobacco pipe, the old Daoist priest smiled and asked, “Since you are of the Flood Dragon species and transform into clouds and fog, do you have a preference for this?”

Song Yunjian looked awkward, “The National Preceptor has not yet returned from the sea. I am afraid of messing things up, so I have to keep holding it.”

The old Daoist priest chuckled and said, “A good helper.”

Song Yunjian said with a wry smile, “Small people have small hearts, great people have great hearts. Those in their positions have their responsibilities.”

The old Daoist priest nodded, “That makes some sense.”

Song Yunjian felt that chatting with Senior Bixiao was truly exhausting and tiring, as if it consumed more Dao power than a cultivator’s secluded cultivation.

The old Daoist priest did not dwell on Song Yunjian’s thoughts and insights. As long as he was sincere, after being tempered by various matters in the future, his current skewed understanding would have the chance to turn into correct perception.

For example, the old scholar was very skilled at speaking, as if he could always find something “good” in everything.

This made people mistakenly believe that he was the one who advocated for “human nature is inherently good” in that “Three-Four Debate.”

This field of study is complex, a tangled mess. If you make a mistake, there’s no need to feel like it was in vain; those who come after will know not to take this path.

That matter, it’s difficult, as difficult as ascending to heaven. But if we succeed, won’t it make us even more impressive? Since that is the case, why not do it?!

And at that time, beside the old scholar, the young man in black who was proficient in scholarship, Go, and… in fact, skilled in everything, had a face like jade, was taciturn, and had a gentle demeanor, yet his eyes were incredibly sharp.

Listening to his teacher and the old Daoist chatting idly, in someone else’s territory, the Guan Dao Temple on the East Sea, the guest seemed to be silently questioning the host about something.

A Fourteenth Realm cultivator, why aren’t you doing something? What, old in Dao age makes you a senior, high in realm makes you a sir?

The young Cui Chan was truly boundless in his arrogance.

“Come, convince me with your reasoning, prove that I am wrong!”

Such a proud person.

The old Daoist priest turned again and glanced at the new study in the opposite courtyard.

“Do not let his hundred years of painstaking effort go to waste.”

A tall building built on a flat ground of ten thousand zhang, the foundation has been laid. How bad can the so-called messy human hearts in the Great Li officialdom be? The sound of scholars reading in the rain on the official road outside the Great Li Capital before, the poems and songs exchanged by men, women, old, and young after the rain, isn’t that the heart of your Great Li people? Isn’t that an intangible, skillful, meticulous craftsmanship of mending and adorning? The rules for governing people are tangible, which dynasty in Haoran Nine Continents lacks them? The rules for governing people’s hearts also exist in the Great Li court and public. As the National Preceptor, you must see this.

You, Chen Ping’an, only need to build upon this foundation, make that plateau rise into peaks, the more the better, erect stretches of ten-thousand-foot mountains.

Whether it is using the thunderous means of a Vajra’s wrath to govern the earth-branch cultivators of Great Li, or using the slow simmering method to slowly guide the Eternal Spring Palace and the registered cultivators, it is all correct. It is even better that you have not targeted Zheng Yang Mountain because you became the National Preceptor of the Song dynasty, and even in your heart of hearts, you anticipate a sword cultivator from Zheng Yang Mountain breaking that boundary monument in the future.

If Chen Ping’an did not have this intention, why would he come to the Great Li Capital for a “stroll”?

The world only knows “emerging from the cave without an opponent, where one can be lenient, do not be lenient,” but they do not know why this poor Daoist, after emerging from the Bixiao Cave of Falling Treasures Beach and meeting you on that path, should not be lenient? Why should I stop you?!

This poor Daoist wishes that everyone in this human world were like dragons, that anyone who wakes up groggily, walks out the door, and looks around, sees a street full of sages and heroes.

At this moment, the old Daoist priest, holding the fly whisk, turned his head and looked. It wasn’t the timid fellow who was sneaking out of the National Preceptor’s residence, like a thief, just as she was when she was a child. Therefore, the one who came here was not Pei Qian, who was supposed to “catch up with an old acquaintance,” but Rongyu.

The old Daoist priest smiled, “Do you understand?”

Rongyu replied, “I generally understand, but I may not truly comprehend.”

The old Daoist priest smiled, “He tells you everything.”

Rongyu also spoke about her feelings for the first time to someone else, “I am afraid I will not do well, adding unnecessary embellishments.”

The old Daoist priest comforted her, “Everything is difficult at the beginning. To have this intention is already a good start.”

He lifted the fly whisk and pointed to the coiled dragon pillar in the corridor of the main house in the adjacent courtyard, “It is not necessarily impossible to dot the eyes on the dragon.”

The vast expanse of green waves, the sea surface like a mirror.

Only a tall wall behind the green-robed figure, still slowly rising, seemed slightly out of place.

Two people of the same age, the second day of the second month, the fifth day of the fifth month.

Cao Ci floated on the water, his toes lightly sweeping back, and the towering wall of water behind Chen Ping’an, layered upon layer, was torn apart and collapsed with a roar.

Perhaps it was because the two were so familiar with each other; there were no polite greetings.

They understood each other implicitly, just exchanging glances and reaching a consensus: whoever broke the “mirror” surface and fell into the sea would lose. How about it? Agreed!

They charged forward, colliding with each other. Both of their vast fist intents were extremely condensed, so there was no sound of splitting waves. It was as if a blue light and a white rainbow were stretched out on the sea surface, facing each other, head-on.

The two straight lines collided. With the first punch, Chen Ping’an used the Divine Man Drumming style, accumulating seventy-two layers of punches within his body.

Cao Ci did not dodge, directly pressing his palm against Chen Ping’an’s left fist. In an instant, the patterns on his entire snow-white sleeve were like ocean waves, the joints and bones of his arm vibrated, his vital energy surging rapidly. He controlled a pure True Qi to counter the powerful fist aura that had seeped into Chen Ping’an’s palm and wrist, “sticking” to it like two main armies locked in a fierce battle.

Without using the skeletal Daoist’s flashy supernatural abilities, Cao Ci simply used his unparalleled profound fist aura to forcefully repel Chen Ping’an’s surging fist intent, causing the tide to reverse. Both of them received thirty-six Divine Man Drumming punches. With the two of them as the center, the sea waves rippled outwards in circles. If a Daoist were to observe from above, the sea此刻 possessed the beauty of a fresco pattern.

Cao Ci simultaneously pressed one hand against Chen Ping’an’s face, pushing him away several hundred feet, his back skimming the water surface a dozen times, like a piece of bluestone creating a long string of skips on the water.

He lightly slapped the sea surface with one palm, flipped his body, and stood firmly. A burning sensation came from Chen Ping’an’s back.

Indeed, asking Cao Ci for a punch was the purest way.

Cao Ci shook his wrist. The muscles at the tiger’s mouth were torn, oozing blood.

Chen Ping’an reached out and pressed his shoulder, shaking his arm. He was somewhat confused, “How did this guy do it?”

“He can actually split a pure True Qi into two routes? What the hell is this if not cheating?!”

Cao Ci smiled, “It’s a new fist technique I learned from watching punches outside the capital. It’s temporarily named ‘Bowstring,’ with the beginning and end of a pure True Qi as each other’s head and tail.”

In other words, Cao Ci did not violate the principles of martial arts by truly splitting the True Qi into two. It was just that the beginning and end were at opposite ends, allowing him to deliver two punches “simultaneously.” This word “simultaneously” likely only had its true weight understood by martial artists who had reached the apex.

Chen Ping’an shook his head, clearly unimpressed with the name of the fist technique, “Calling it ‘Moth Eyebrow’ would be more elegant.”

Cao Ci nodded, “Indeed.”

As he spoke, a streak of blue light arced and arrived, as if drawing a bowstring on the sea surface, and also like the delicate eyebrows of a beauty.

Creating new fist techniques for human martial arts was Cao Ci’s forte, but he was unfortunately up against a person who had reached the level of a grandmaster in the art of “stealing punches.”

Cao Ci slightly turned sideways, and Chen Ping’an closed in, imitating him. He threw out both fists, striking Cao Ci’s temples on both sides, regardless of whether his front was wide open and whether Cao Ci would take the opportunity to strike. His target was precisely Cao Ci’s head.

Why be polite to Chen Ping’an? Cao Ci joined two fingers together like a halberd, extending them like lightning, as fast as a flying sword, and struck Chen Ping’an’s heart.

Just like the “acupuncture point strikes” often described in Jianghu martial arts novels, Cao Ci’s halberd-like fingers could not only pierce the opponent’s heart but also sever the flow of True Qi in a pure martial artist. When this True Qi dissipated, it would be like a flood breaking through the human body, clashing with all spiritual energy. This was extremely effective against certain rogue cultivators who practiced both Daoist and martial arts, equivalent to being hit twice.

The two “contemporaries” who had successively entered the Eleventh Realm, with their second punch, directly adopted a strategy of exchanging death for death.

Neither dodged or avoided, relying on their physiques. Chen Ping’an turned his fists into palms, and thus Cao Ci’s temples on both sides were heavily struck, his vision momentarily blurring.

Chen Ping’an, on the other hand, was struck in the heart by the two fingers, but his heart was not immediately pierced. Instead, he twisted his body and retreated. Therefore, he did not slide straight backward, but changed his steps, drawing circles on the sea surface. Blue flowers bloomed, circles connected one after another. The two pulled apart their distance. When the green-robed figure stood still, both his demeanor and his fist intent were clearly better than Cao Ci, who had taken two solid slaps.

Chen Ping’an raised his palm, using the back of his hand to dust off his green robe, then raised his hand again, grinning, and pointed at Cao Ci’s ears.

Cao Ci, of course, knew the pathetic state of blood streaming from both his ears.

If it were an ordinary martial artist at the peak, taking these two blows would have meant collapsing to the ground, with the outcome of victory and defeat, and even life and death, already decided.

Cao Ci’s expression was calm, only slightly shaking his head. However, it seemed he had truly become angry at this moment. Cao Ci narrowed his eyes, “Are you still coming?”

Suddenly, countless white-clothed Cao Cis appeared around Chen Ping’an.

The green-robed figure seemed to have drawn a line on the ground for himself, only standing within an invisible large circle, maneuvering back and forth, with heavy snow falling all around.

Between the vast blue sea and the clear sky, even Ascended Realm cultivators watching nearby could no longer clearly see the faces of the two martial artists. They could only hear strange earthy sounds echoing between the water and the sky, including the long ringing of bells and drums similar to temples, the clear and melodious jade chimes of Daoist temples, the secret mantras and loud blowing of conchs from Buddhist Tantra, or the music played by hundreds of court musicians, all capable of shocking the soul and swaying the mind.

The conflicting two streams of fist intent distorted the light in this world, making things seem like flowers seen through fog. The trajectories of the fist techniques could vaguely be seen as crisscrossing branches. The exploding fist aura when they collided was like ink splattered and spread on Xuan paper, creating impressionistic flowers.

Ascended Realm cultivators could come and join in the fun.

Immortal Realm cultivators might not be able to get close enough to receive a punch.

Jade Pure Realm cultivators couldn’t even see them.

The killing power, speed, and fist techniques of a peak martial artist at the three levels of Vigorous Qi, Returning to Truth, and Reaching the Divine, could generally be estimated by cultivators.

Entering the Eleventh Realm was another vast world.

Temporarily pausing, they each retreated. The green waves beneath their feet were like two high platforms cut out, slowly moving with the two martial artists. The surging fist intent, like a waterfall, followed the two figures, creating a deep沟壑 at the bottom of the sea between them. One green and one white, each stood at the “tide of human martial arts.” They faced each other from afar again.

The waves leaped high, crashing back into the sea. Between the two martial arts mountains, a brilliant rainbow appeared, like a long bridge spanning the sky.

The upper part of Chen Ping’an’s clothes was already torn. He simply tore it into a strip and tied it around his waist, baring his chest and back, revealing his lean and slender physique.

He was not the type of martial artist with bulging muscles, possessing a natural feeling, containing unparalleled strength. Under the sunlight, he was like an indestructible golden body for eternity.

Cao Ci stood on the other side. His white clothes, apart from some holes, were not too damaged. At least he didn’t have to expose his upper body like the other person.

Since they were no longer holding back, the sound of their heartbeats alone could stir up waves of fist intent resonating with heaven and earth.

On the path of practicing martial arts, step by step, how solid was Chen Ping’an’s journey in this life.

Gu You’s Earth-Shaking Fist Manual, Cui Cheng of the Bamboo Building, Old Woman Bai of Sword Qi Great Wall, Li Er of Lion Peak in Bei Ju Luzhou. Jiang She. Ancient Witch.

Chen Ping’an reached out and wiped the blood from one arm. His muscles were cracked in countless places, with the lingering fist intent of Cao Ci. Chen Ping’an’s palms were like iron, having been rubbed over countless glass shards.

He remembered Li Er once saying that if the more than a thousand Qi Apertures within the human body were like deep wells, wild ponds, and lakes, and the routes of a cultivator’s vital energy and spiritual energy were like streams, rivers, and major waterways, then the six hundred and thirty-nine muscles in the human body were the unique great mountains and continuous dragon veins of a martial artist, which needed to be opened up.

Therefore, a martial artist’s pure True Qi was the path that had been opened up. From this, it could be inferred that the circulation of True Qi in the Eleventh Realm was to make this path ascend to the heavens, like a wisp of incense smoke within the human body as a divine temple, connecting with heaven and earth.

Always leaving his hometown, on his travels, not yet fifty years old, Chen Ping’an’s life was always in various battlefields, not just having experienced hundreds of battles.

Cao Ci twitched the corner of his mouth, pulling at the swollen muscles on his cheeks.

His heart was like still water, yet Cao Ci’s eyes at this moment surprisingly revealed a kind of passionate desire to win, a strong competitive spirit.

It was as if he was telling the other person a fact that even the current master of martial arts could not change.

Today’s Cao Ci would still not lose to Chen Ping’an.

And the future would be the same.

Barefoot Chen Ping’an slowly retreated a distance and then charged forward, his body leaping high, just like the old straw shoes of his youth, crossing the stream back home.