Before the fist landed, Qing Tong’s yang-spirit avatar was suddenly clad in ancient armor.

This fist was exceedingly strange. Unable to meet it head-on, and knowing evasion was impossible, Qing Tong chose to endure the blow. He summoned forth a suit of armor to protect his physical form, layered atop his snow-white robes.

It was clear Qing Tong didn’t believe his half-divine martial physique, unaided by external forces, could fully withstand this attack.

The fist struck, and the white-haired elder’s precious armor shattered like a mirror, countless shards hurtling away like shooting stars.

The old warrior’s massive frame began to fall, but not in a straight line. The world here was like a child’s crumpled paper, its flow of time beyond mortal comprehension. Directions were illusions, east and west, up and down, all twisted and folded. Lands that seemed close were leagues apart, while distant points were but a step away.

The old warrior’s body tumbled and rattled, like a glass bead trapped in a bamboo tube.

Ordinarily, a pure martial artist of the apex would be a nightmare for any qi-refiner in such a realm.

Finally, the towering elder stabilized himself, wrestling with the chaotic energies shaking his very core. He looked down at his ruined armor, spat a mouthful of blood, and stripped off the shattered pieces. With a wave of his hand, he gathered the scattered fragments, restoring them to a dull, lifeless war-scholar’s armor-pearl.

Qing Tong felt a pang of regret. He had painstakingly repaired this ancient divine armor to a wearable state, and now, who knew how long it would take to restore it?

He had to admit, Chen Ping’an’s fist had hit hard.

Wiping the blood from his face, Qing Tong flicked his wrist, scattering droplets to the ground. “Where did that punch come from?” he asked, curiosity outweighing his pain.

He refused to believe it was a technique of Chen Ping’an’s own creation.

Chen Ping’an opened his hands. Far behind him, the two previously discarded longswords, as if receiving a command, raced back to their master. Mimicking Qing Tong’s erratic retreat, they weaved and dodged, defying the world’s warped geometry, yet their path was a direct line to Chen Ping’an’s grasp.

Clad in scarlet robes, Chen Ping’an held the swords, their blades shimmering with contrasting lights.

The white-haired elder saw a hint of a smile on the other’s face, a clear mockery.

He was truly an apex martial artist, but his purity was a lie, his skill born only of age and the endless tempering of his physique.

As the fight raged on, two quarters of an hour passed, and the incense stick burned to ash.

In the distance, Xiao Mo turned to Qing Tong’s yin-spirit and chuckled, “Qing Tong, my friend, you do have some treasures.”

Living long had its advantages. Being an ancient daoist, predating even the oldest histories, Xiao Mo recognized the armor’s true origin at a glance, its lineage rivaling the divine narrow-sword Executioner used on the ancient Dragon-Slaying Platform.

The youthfully shaped Qing Tong’s yin-spirit wore a wry smile.

This armor was one of his trump cards. It was borrowed from the Central Earth’s Literary Temple and given to the Demon-Suppressing Tower. Now, Qing Tong had earned it through a great deed.

Sadly, despite years of painstaking repair work, his lack of crafting skill had meant slow progress, and this ridiculous fist-asking had ruined it again.

Once, among the five supreme artifacts of the ancient Heavenly Court, one called the Armor-Bearer used this armor as inspiration. Three lesser “true” artifacts were crafted by the God of Forging, one of the twelve high-ranking deities. With permission from the God of Fire and the God of Water, he collected the essence of the sun and used Mars, one of the Fire God’s palaces, as a forge, using the River of Time as quenching water, painstakingly and meticulously crafting these replicas.

Xiao Mo had seen one of these three armors, the silver “Great Frost,” worn by Zheng Da-feng, the acting shopkeeper he met at the Flying Ascension City.

Alas, in the Heaven-Ascension War, where countless daoists and gods fell, Zheng Da-feng, a gatekeeper who refused to yield, was impaled on the gate by a single sword stroke. The Great Frost was shattered and lost to the world, sharing the same fate as the hairpin of the first daoist.

Later, the First Ancestor of the War Scholars, inspired by these armors, created the three war-scholar armor-pearls, lesser imitations that were the ancestors of the Warp-Weft Armor, Golden Crow Armor, and Divine Dew Armor. Two Warp-Weft Armors existed, woven with lines of longitude and latitude. When worn, they granted qi-refiners protection akin to a boundless Buddhist world, making them appear nearby yet unreachable to swords and spells.

The Golden Crow Armor, slightly inferior in rank, allowed qi-refiners to accumulate and infuse spiritual energy into it. No matter how much energy was poured in, it would be a bottomless pit, making the armor’s toughness unimaginable.

Qi-refiners had limited spiritual energy storage, but this armor allowed them to surpass those boundaries. A cultivator who wore this armor for thousands or even tens of thousands of years, even if not a Grandmaster, could stand still and let a Flying Ascension Realm swordsman hack away for days.

Xiao Mo knew the location of one of those armors. Like himself, its owner had been slumbering in a hidden place in the Barbarian World for millennia.

The problem was that it belonged to a female cultivator, a notorious swordswoman renowned for her devastating power.

Xiao Mo smiled faintly. “Qing Tong, I am curious, what gives you the audacity to be so arrogant?”

Having cultivated for ten thousand years, Qing Tong should be familiar with the etiquette and rules of the mountain, unlike himself, who had to adapt to customs.

Xiao Mo’s face remained expressionless as he slowly spoke. “My lord, as the last master of Sword Qi Great Wall’s Summer Palace, appointed by Chen Qing-du himself as the final Hidden Official, his contributions are clear, even if it’s just the effort to guard half the city alone. Moreover, he was the leader of the Battle of Mount Tuoyue. His accompanying swordsmen, Qi Tingji, Xing Guan, Hao Su, Lu Zhi, and Bai Yujing’s Third Instructor, Lu Chen, would you dare turn them away if they were to visit? Could you even refuse them?”

“Even without the Hidden Official title, my lord is also the closed-door disciple of the Literary Saint, a student of Old Master Wen, and the youngest junior of Cui Chan, Zuo You, Liu Shiliu, and Qi Jingchun.”

“My lord is also the Lord of Fallen Phoenix Mountain, a sect leader in the Great World. Soon, he will establish a Lower Sect, and after the Spring Equinox Festival, he will become the ancestral master in the eyes of Immortal Capital Mountain’s cultivators. Others may not know the details, but with your senses, Qing Tong, you cannot be unaware that it will be a true Sword Dao sect. Like that once in the northern continent, and since the destruction of Jade Paulownia Swords Sect, for thousands of years there has been no Sword Dao Sect, this move will open a new chapter for the Maple Leaf Continent, adding vitality to its stagnant rivers and mountains. My lord and his student, Cui Dongshan, are the ones digging the canals for this source of living water.”

“Furthermore, my lord is a guiding light for a certain daoist’s cultivation in this life, two who will ascend the mountains together.”

“This person is now named Nian Jing, with the style name Xianwei.”

“My lord is also the Dao Companion of Ning Yao, the strongest swordswoman of the Five Colors World.”

Xiao Mo did not mention these matters.

If Qing Tong was an ignorant fool who cared nothing for these titles, then the Literary Saint would not have merged with the three continents, sacrificing his own Dao to protect the three continents, including the Maple Leaf Continent, from utter collapse.

And if it were not for Cui Chan, Qi Jingchun, and Liu Shiliu, all core disciples of the Literary Saint’s lineage, secretly working with Wen Hai Zhou Mi in this Maple Leaf Continent, the survival of this Demon-Suppressing Tower would be questionable.

With Qing Tong’s Dao so closely connected, even if he betrayed the Literary Temple and sided with Wen Hai Zhou Mi, it would require severing Qing Tong’s ties to the tower, causing him to drop one or two realms, barely clinging to life. When the situation between the two worlds reversed, old demon kings like Yuan Shou and Fei Fei would flee back to the Barbarian World. Unless Zhou Mi ascended with Qing Tong, his fate would be the same as the demon Yang Zhi, imprisoned in Old Lord’s Territory. Even if Zhou Mi was willing to protect Qing Tong, the Saint would likely strike him down midway.

Chen Ping’an’s senior brother, Zuo You, had also personally protected a gateway to a new world as a Sword Qi Great Wall swordsman, preserving a portion of vitality for the Maple Leaf Continent. When the gate opened again, the refugees who fled to the Five Colors World could, to some extent, replenish the Maple Leaf Continent’s luck, whether they wished to return home or not.

Whether it was the Old Master, the four senior brothers, or Chen Ping’an himself, the Literary Saint’s lineage was indebted to the Maple Leaf Continent, the Demon-Suppressing Tower, and the paulownia tree.

Chen Ping’an’s choice to establish the Lower Sect in the Maple Leaf Continent was a blessing for Qing Tong.

The added luck would be a constant stream of income, easier and more profitable than being a landlord.

Chen Ping’an chose the Maple Leaf Continent, especially since the Azure Float Sword Sect was a sword dao sect, which meant that some sword dao luck intertwined with the Hidden Official would be brought to the Maple Leaf Continent, instead of benefiting his hometown, the Jade Bottle Continent. This sword dao luck would take root, gathering like duckweed in the mountains and scattering like dandelions, blossoming and bearing fruit over time.

Xiao Mo shook his head, ceasing his speech.

His old friend, the Cave Master of Jade Firmament, had already left the Maple Leaf Continent, even relocating his daoist temple, Jade Paulownia, which meant the old daoist was unlikely to return anytime soon. The Literary Temple seemed to have lifted the restrictions on the Demon-Suppressing Tower, granting Qing Tong his freedom.

Even if they met, and the price wasn’t right, the deal could fall through. But it would still be a friendly exchange. With Chen Ping’an’s easy-going nature, he would just make more trips to the tower, still showing respect.

Whether publicly or privately, emotionally or rationally, Qing Tong should meet the multiply-titled Chen Ping’an.

Ultimately, Qing Tong was simply trying to have all the benefits and none of the responsibility, choosing to refuse all visitors.

He didn’t even want to meet Chen Ping’an, much less negotiate.

This was like the Fire Dragon Real Person visiting the Liu clan of Frozen Plains Continent, arriving at the gate with good intentions, only to be ignored by Liu Ju-bao.

Even when forced to receive guests, he did things without proper regard.

Like the Fire Dragon Real Person trying to see Liu Ju-bao in the ancestral hall, he had to pass through tests.

What followed was a series of trials, each attempt at comprehension stripping away layers of Chen Ping’an’s dao heart, questioning his motives.

This was a daoist exchange, a debate on the Dao.

This was swordplay between swordsmen, fist-asking between pure martial artists.

Another analogy would be Chen Qing-du leaving the Sword Qi Great Wall and visiting the Central Earth’s Literary Temple.

He would have to pass through layers of poetry and scholarly examinations.

Xiao Mo turned and asked, “Qing Tong, is there some unspeakable reason?”

Xiao Mo waited, but Qing Tong remained silent, his lips sealed.

“If you don’t speak, I’ll assume there isn’t one,” Xiao Mo said to himself.

In Xiao Mo’s eyes, this was a clear case of refusing to accept goodwill.

He had been enduring this for too long.

The old driver in Great Li Capital was just an official in the Ancient Thunder Department’s Jade Pivot Court, a small position with limited power.

Besides, those were old grudges, long settled. Raking over old coals wasn’t Xiao Mo’s style.

As for Zhong Kui’s ghost-immortal, Yu Jin, that was more like a joke.

Xiao Mo tucked his walking stick back into his sleeve.

Qing Tong’s yin-spirit panicked, no longer able to play the mute, hurriedly crying, “Wait!”

But Xiao Mo paid him no heed.

And Qing Tong was unable to stop Xiao Mo’s… sword delivery.

Like two small worlds separated by a mirror, the boundary line between them, like a cloth covering all things, was lifted and torn.

Like a silkworm emerging from its cocoon.

Chen Ping’an, who instantly sensed the change, glanced at Xiao Mo.

The first time he met Xiao Mo, he was a fearsome old man with a ruthless sword.

The next time, he was a gentle young man.

But now, Xiao Mo was truly “unfamiliar.”

Gone was his true form, replaced by a dharma-manifestation.

Clad in wide robes, his face barely visible, pale as jade, his body crystalline, pure as glass, devoid of bone, muscle, or blood.

His long white hair was ethereal, his aura otherworldly.

Wielding a sword, his presence was imposing, his sword intent piercing, as if poised to ascend to the heavens.

Was this Xiao Mo’s true, perfected form?

He arrived at the world above the mirror.

The true form of the paulownia tree was here.

Xiao Mo had yet to truly deliver his sword, but his sword qi already filled the world.

Innumerable pillars of sword qi erupted, piercing the heavens.

The world, once like a carefully woven brocade pouch, was now pierced by hundreds of thousands of sharp ice cones.

The land was fragmented by countless sword lights. Even the old sword qi was shattered by the new.

Cultivators of the Maple Leaf Continent felt their dao hearts tremble, sensing something amiss.

The three Confucian sages guarding the heavens of the continent looked into the distance and smiled. A ball of light appeared in the sky over the central part of the continent, bristling with spikes, radiating sword qi.

“What happened to our demon suppressing tower? Has it turned into a porcupine?” laughed one old sage nearby, as he cast his gaze upon the spire.

A war between cultivators was a private matter.

Moreover, he was already being generous to Qing Tong by not interfering.

After all these years of peace, the tower had become greedy, hoarding its resources. The three Academies of Thought were left to pick up the broken pieces, a labor the sages could only oversee in silence, lest they run afoul of the rules by interfering in mortal affairs.

It has been a long time since the last conflict…

This sage, who once praised the young Hidden Official, waved his sleeve, concealing the strange phenomenon.

Who would call out him for a dereliction of duty?

Such affairs must be handled internally.

Inside the new battlefield, Qing Tong’s yin-spirit, and old warrior merged back into his true form.

Facing a Flying Ascension Realm swordsman, Qing Tong dared not be careless.

The paulownia tree transformed into a slender figure, shrouded in light and shadow, wearing a hibiscus daoist crown, clad in new armor over golden robes, green shoes, a string of jade tablets at his waist, and crimson armbands.

At the same time, the long-lived cultivator acted, scattering incarnations like blossoming flowers.

Over a thousand Qing Tong incarnations appeared, each displaying different abilities, wielding different treasures, and casting different spells.

Some formed temporary formations, creating landscapes, while others, like the talisman incarnations, were willing to self-destruct to block the sword lights.

Qing Tong, who claimed to know a few great talismans, offered the best of them, each corresponding to a Dao, demonstrating his mastery of talisman-making.

A fire talisman summoned a thousand-foot-tall fire god, its body woven with flames, shattering sword lights with its fists.

A water talisman created a river of talismans, forming a thousand-mile-long blue carp, each scale like a courtyard.

Earth talismans created five ancient peaks, rooting themselves in the earth, supporting the landscape formation.

Behind Qing Tong, a wood talisman created a delicate wooden puppet.

Against all of this, Xiao Mo wielded only one sword.

A single, dazzling sword light, like a swimming fish, streaked toward the formation and Qing Tong’s true form.

Wherever it went, it cut through everything in its path.

Around it, a passage opened into the vast emptiness of the cosmos.

Even the sword qi forming the countless pillars was shattered.

This was the true power of a pinnacle Flying Ascension Realm swordsman.

Elsewhere, a dozen subtle springs appeared.

At the source of these springs, the sounds of trickling water, like celestial music.

These seemingly insignificant existences, like the minuscule sword qi, seemed negligible, yet they were the origins of Xiao Mo’s swordplay.

Where could Qing Tong hide?

Even if he escaped the tower, where could he go?

The landscape formation shattered with a deafening roar.

Qing Tong exhausted all his great talismans to barely deflect the terrifying sword light.

He knew that the swordswoman was powerful, but he didn’t expect them to be this powerful.

Wasn’t their swordplay renowned for its defense? Why was it so difficult to deal with?

Wasn’t it said that their killing power didn’t even make the top five swordsmen in the world?

Suddenly, Qing Tong’s eyes widened as he saw a face drawing closer.

The smiling face of the ancient demon swordswoman came closer, their sword slicing across.

A long arc trailed across the world, aimed at Qing Tong’s head.

The individual, who now calls themselves Xiao Mo, seemed to say,

“Hello, Qing Tong.

Goodbye, useless flier.”

Near death, Qing Tong shouted, “Chen Ping’an! The Saint has a message for you!”

The figure in scarlet robes appeared from the rift Xiao Mo had opened, traversing the small world like an ascending deity.

Hands in his sleeves, swords at his waist, the Night Wanderer Sword floated beside him.

But Qing Tong felt as if he was falling into an ice cavern. In one motion, Xiao Mo passed him and severed Qing Tong’s head.

The head flew into the air.

Maybe Chen Ping’an couldn’t stop Xiao Mo. Maybe he had communicated with Xiao Mo in his mind, and Xiao Mo was unable to stop his sword.

Maybe Chen Ping’an hadn’t spoken at all, and had simply let it happen.

Who knew?

Xiao Mo’s sword of condensed intent dissipated, replaced with a real sword. The man looked around, and smiled. He had at least killed the flier.

It was easier than it had been to kill Yang Zhi, who had been a more powerful flier. And her innate toughness, combined with the vastness of the world, and the blessing of the water dao, had made her far swifter in the water than the sword.

This flier was trapped in one place.

The severed head decayed, turning to ash and scattering into the world.

Behind Xiao Mo, where Qing Tong had been, the armor fell to the ground with a clatter, the robes collapsing on top of it.

He had used a cicada-shedding technique to escape.

The tree had been wounded, but the trunk had been spared.

But Qing Tong’s Dao had still suffered damage.

A thunderous voice echoed, “Do not push your luck!”

This was the Demon-Suppressing Tower, one of the nine towers in the Great World!

And Xiao Mo was a demon from the Barbarian World!

Xiao Mo only smiled, abandoning his dharma-manifestation and tracking down the faintest of clues.

The celestial form disappeared.

After a moment, a bizarre black moon appeared in the sky, Qing Tong’s last resort.

By contrast, Xiao Mo’s form was tiny. From the moon appeared a pinpoint of light. Then a streak of light that twisted like a dragon about the moon.

It was a sword art of Xiao Mo’s creation, crafted after swallowing one of the celestial bodies. Lunophagy.

Compared to that fellow practitioner, it fell short.

It was during that time that the white Ze tasked the great demons to wake up and help. That lady in the sun, who had become a sword practitioner in the sun, shared a word or two, and swore to meet Xiao Mo again.

Her assumed name was Xie Gou.

Xiao Mo had previously told Chen Ping’an that he was not the strongest fighter, nor had he the strongest defenses. He would only say that he was in the top three in both regards. But he had withheld that the lists of the top three both contained Xie Gou, a peer in attack and defense.

As for the long story of animosity between Xiao Mo and Xie Gou, it was a tale to be told another day.

Chen Ping’an’s shoulders slumped, and he became more stooped.

It was Qing Tong calling upon the authority of the tower.

After a moment, sword light continued to flicker.

Qing Tong finally showed his true form, disheveled and bloody, with dozens of wounds.

Young, beautiful, and androgynous.

But Qing Tong no longer possessed the grace of a great cultivator. He was flustered and enraged as he stood near Chen Ping’an.

The sword wielder made the right choice.

Xiao Mo did not strike again, sheathing her sword as a show of good faith.

I will allow you respite next to my Lord.

Chen Ping’an saw Qing Tong’s face, and his expression grew odd.

According to the records, male phoenixes paired with female paulownias. But Lu Tai, of the Central Earth, had been a Yin-Yang Fish.

Lu Tai, a flier who was naturally scared of heights, had accompanied Chen Ping’an through the Maple Leaf Continent.

Zou Zi and Pei Min, were both Lu Tai’s mentors.

Could it be that Zou Zi had taken Lu Tai here?

Chen Ping’an did not inquire. Whether it was Lu Tai, or the sword wielder Liu Cai, he believed they would reunite.

Xiao Mo raised her chin at Qing Tong, signalling him to leave.

Qing Tong gritted his teeth and teleported away.

He reappeared with an arm severed by Xiao Mo. With a shift of his shoulder, he could summon another.

Chen Ping’an laughed. “Still deciding what to say? Are you struggling to lie convincingly, or are you too afraid to falsely relay the Saint’s will? If you don’t lie, Xiao Mo will keep chasing you. Even if you don’t die right away, it will cost you decades, even centuries, of cultivation with each strike. In less than an incense stick, you’ll fall below the flier realm.”

Qing Tong wiped blood from his lips. “Are you not afraid that I will destroy the tower and seek help from the sages in the sky?”

Chen Ping’an raised a hand and said, “Go ahead.”

Qing Tong gritted his teeth. “Though the Saint did not tell me to send you a message, he did visit this place and tell me that he wanted me to cultivate well. If you dare to destroy the tower and enable a Barbarian World swordsman…”

Chen Ping’an put his hand down. “I can ask for forgiveness from the Literary Temple or the Saint. No problem.”

Qing Tong’s face changed.

You flier always seeks unearned benefits?

No problem.

Earlier, when Xiao Mo broke the world’s restrictions, Chen Ping’an had secretly sent a flying sword message to the sage.

He had an agreement with the sage, one that he begged him not to tell the Master about. The saint wanted to bring half the sword city.

As for who had gained and lost the merit, this would be resolved according to the rules of the saint and of the Literary Temple.

And Qing Tong would never again become the flier.

Ironically, Chen Ping’an, who had recently worried about how the high cultivators of the Three Schools would cause trouble, had become the first gatekeeper preventing an ascension.

What difference did it make if Qing Tong healed for a hundred years, a thousand, or ten thousand?

That was a decision that couldn’t be reversed.

It came at a high price, but the reward was considerable.

Maple Leaf Continent would soon be stable.

The repairs would be more smooth.

Where good people went, good fortune would follow.

Whatever he needed from Qing Tong, he could now do himself.

The only problem was that his Master would be greatly angered.

It couldn’t be helped.

As the Sword Saint had said, “The pursuit of cultivation must not always be so rigid. Every century, one should do something completely unreasonable.”

Suddenly, Qing Tong looked surprised, reluctantly opening a mountain restriction like a door.

Chen Ping’an was even more surprised. The flying sword had returned.

Then Qing Tong started screaming, “Chen Ping’an, you maniac! You fool! You’re insane! You only sought to hurt me, and would harm yourself in the process!”

Chen Ping’an frowned. He didn’t care about the yelling. What he didn’t understand was what had compelled the sage to send the sword.

Qing Tong seemed to hear an insult, and turned despondent as he looked at Chen Ping’an. He sighed, and pulled out two talismans. One was a yellow talisman. The other, gold.

Chen Ping’an instantly frowned and said, “Xiao Mo, you may act without reservation if I call upon you.”

Xiao Mo nodded.

Qing Tong said in his mind, “Your memory is so good. You remember these talismans.”

Chen Ping’an remained expressionless.

One was a talisman that Lu Tai had showed him how to create in the fortress.

The other had been written by Lu Tai on the gold paper Chen Ping’an had gifted him.

Qing Tong continued, “Zou Zi had indeed brought Lu Tai to see me. Zou Zi left me this message: ‘Verify this person. I need not know the results.'”

“The person?”

Chen Ping’an asked, “I had the sword on my back. Was it not clear?”

Qing Tong responded, “Whether you believe it or not, I did not see Lu Tai at the time. The images that I saw were all manufactured by Zou Zi. I realized my mistake after I saw you. I deduced that this had been the case after traversing the landscapes.”

Chen Ping’an appeared unconvinced.

Still, Qing Tong’s reason could pass.

Xiao Mo returned to her normal form.

Qing Tong gave a sigh of relief. He waved his sleeves, and twelve leaves appeared.

Each showed a moving image, representing a vital event.

Chess, the Yellow Dream, Drought, Praying for rain, Fixing the flood, Half-crossing the river, A scholar and his beauty, The monk,

A woman on a horse, A realm, The vow. A country, immortality. Buying bread.

Qing Tong grew serious and said, “Few have ever attained the One.”

“Heaven attains One, and it is serene. God attains One, and it is divine. The mountain attains One, and its rocks do not fall. Valleys get it in time, and all things get it in life. Spiritual energy in time, and the refiners all got their ability from god in the time after.”

Hearing this, Xiao Mo laughed.

You are tooting your own horn, eh?

If you were so great, how could you not withstand a few sword strikes?

Qing Tong bristled and yelled, “I am not saying this!”

Xiao Mo tapped her staff to indicate that he lower his voice.

Chen Ping’an asked, “Who are you talking about?”

Qing Tong said, “The Ten Heroes.”

Chen Ping’an remained stoic.

But he had never heard of this. Nor had his teachers mentioned it.

Unfortunately, Qing Tong only named a few on the list.

The heroes had predated the water and fire and the ascension war.

They numbered ten.

All had become like saints or gods.

Each came from a different path.

There were the three founders.

The Ancestor of War.

The first cultivator.

And the greatest sword.

There were four candidates:

Chen Qingdu, The Master, Bai Ze, and Mr. Three Mountains.

When Qing Tong named Chen Qingdu, he glanced at Chen Ping’an.

Chen Qingdu and the greatest sword were similar in their struggle for dominance.

Qing Tong continued, “In the past, the water and fire conflict destroyed heaven and earth.”

“For the people, it was a calamity. But for the rare cultivator who survived, it was…”

Chen Ping’an interjected, “A great opportunity. It was like burning or tilling soil, making it fertile.”

Qing Tong nodded. “The laws, the stars, were all revealed. The terrains, the seas, were all new opportunities.”

Zou Zi’s message had been, “The southeast falls, the northwest tips.”

Qing Tong lamented, “After this, the daoists each occupied a place.”

After a moment, he said, “I am the host.”

“The Taoist’s way is to reduce excesses and replace insufficiencies. The way of men is not.”

“Hence, Lao Tzu said, ‘Who can have abundance to give to the world?'”

Chen Ping’an replied, “With what will that one enrich the world? Confucianism is different.”

Qing Tong reeled, and took a step back.

Chen Ping’an had touched the origin of it all.

It appeared that Chen Ping’an was finally becoming his original self.

He was not a righteous god, but simply another mortal.

Qing Tong pointed to the leaf and said, “Let’s think about the flood and drought.”

Chen Ping’an would not agree.

They looked at the two images, and started to discuss the end.

“Is this a suggestion? Or did I make the wrong choice?” Chen Ping’an looked at the two images, his brow deeply furrowed. “Maybe you should have listened to me in the very beginning and returned with me to the mountain.”

The flood washed away a country, and ruined it.

The Tao had fallen apart, all caused by your actions. Now you try to repair it, you the destroyer?

Are you the mastermind behind the departure of the Three School Founders and Wen Hai Zhou Mi?

You could have stopped the war, and yet you did nothing.

All of this was an example of the mockery from Qing Tong.

The praying official with his decree could never change the past.

Chen Ping’an smirked. “Are you skilled at mockery?”

Qing Tong said, “What does that mean?”

Chen Ping’an had been a magistrate, and his life had been filled with such toil.

Qing Tong was a very complicated person, but it was a problem for someone else.

These all told stories and meanings, of the sort only the heart could comprehend. He was a traveler on a narrow path, filled with fear and trepidation.

“You are not calling me bad! I should not be so angry!”

Xiao Mo thought it would have been better for the man to heed his call, and simply return to the mountain.

It gave Qing Tong pause as Chen Ping’an cast the images aside and moved onto the next leaf.

“Is this a friendly warning? Or an arrangement? Or your true intent?”

Qing Tong gave a confusing answer. “It is who I am,” he said, a faint smile on his face. “No matter who I am, it does not matter.”

Chen Ping’an sneered, “Zou Zi treats you as a simpleton?”

Chen Ping’an realized that there was more to it than what met the eye. He realized there was another lesson in the matter, and he continued to seek wisdom in the journey.

Is a river strike not a blow? The words had come to him slowly, even though the lesson was ever close.

He could now see his path.

Chen Ping’an took out his gourd and drank. “Now tell me the real reason.”

Qing Tong looked odd and said in his mind, “You know about the similarities between Lu Tai and I?”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

The former’s face grew genuine, and he said, “I can only tell you a few things about the past.”

Qing Tong sighed and said, “Well. Goodbye.”

What he meant to say was this: There was a part of Qing Tong that believed in the Chen Ping’an who would come, and there was another part of Qing Tong that believed that Chen Ping’an would never change.

Chen Ping’an nodded, and said, “The one to carve his name on the tree knows that death is but the greater journey.”

Qing Tong looked confused.

“I’m guessing.”

Chen Ping’an was about to leave, but Qing Tong called out, “Have a seat!”

Chen Ping’an said, “Why did you change your mind?”

Qing Tong smirked. “I will gamble. It will either be a big profit or a great loss.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “You do not regret it?”

Qing Tong responded, “It will not be too late to regret it after that moment has passed.”

Chen Ping’an sat down and said, “Xiao Mo. Protect us.”

Xiao Mo nodded and sneered at Qing Tong.

Qing Tong smiled back, as if saying, “Hey. Give me a little credit!”

On this day, New Years Eve, the leaves were falling on the Maple Leaf Continent.

At the same time, one was dreaming.

Let us dream together.

I pray for a touch of the incense.

Hongzhu Town had the streets set out as it always had. There were numerous little shops, including a bookshop, where the business was always bad. And yet it was also good, as the shop was more interested in the collection than in sales.

The master of the shop was Li Jin, who was laying in his chair and napping.

Many had eaten a meal with their family, and the pops of fireworks were everywhere.

In the eyes of those not in power, there was a good official and a bad one. For those in power, there was simply the question of whether you wanted more power.

Li Jin was not seeking more power.

He was the one who had gained the most benefit from the storms a few years ago, but even the Mountain Monarch, a nearby neighbor, had found him to be a great cheapskate.

Li Jin started, but rose with a smile and said, “Master Chen has some great powers.”

After listening to the request, Li Jin looked confused. “Like the people’s parasol?”

Chen Ping’an laughed. “I suppose you can say that.”

Li Jin pondered the matter and said, “I do not need your donation. But please help me with something in exchange.”

Chen Ping’an said, “It is my honor. Just tell me the matter, and I will not deny it.”

Li Jin looked at the other and asked, “When you return to the mountain, can you color something?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “You are talking about those scrolls that Zhu Lian showed to you on the way from Qingfeng City?”

Li Jin nodded and said, “Exactly.”

In these pictures, Zhu Lian had carved a number. Chen Ping’an, therefore, knew what to expect.

Those paintings, of course, could only be colored by members of the court, or sages of the temples.

However, some daoists could also assist with it.

Chen Ping’an smiled and said, “I can help you with this today.”

Li Jin shook his head. “I only have dreams in this place.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Just try.”

Li Jin imagined the images from before. He was unable to imagine himself passing the gates of the dragon, as of yet.

Chen Ping’an raised his wrists, and took out the brush he had gifted to Zhou Lian, the one that had traveled to many places. He filled out the Koi, dotting the eyes.

Li Jin was shocked. In a dream he could find reality?

Was I dreaming?

When he woke up, would it all be but a dream? It was something he couldn’t know. Chen Ping’an would never make fun of him about such things.

Chen Ping’an, all of a sudden, said, “Let us do more good then.”

Li Jin looked hesitant.

Chen Ping’an said, “It’s nothing.”

He colored the scholar on the scroll with gold.

Then Chen Ping’an put his stamp on it.

He now had enough water to complete the mission.

Li Jin took the scroll. “The essence of the water has been completed!” And he bowed.

Chen Ping’an said, “Well, farewell then.”

In the shop, Li Jin opened his eyes, and took out his paintings.

They had been colored.

They were now filled with water and power.

Li