In the realm of Huangting, nestled within a modest county town called Suian—a name that whispers of fulfilled wishes and tranquil peace—lay a place under the dominion of Yanzhou Prefecture. This prefecture, renowned as a cradle of scholars and a haven of literature, had birthed more狀元 (first rank scholars in the imperial examination) and 進士 (scholars who passed the imperial examination) than any other land in Huangting. While Suian lacked the bustle of a major thoroughfare, it boasted a wealth of scholarly families, their presence announced by the towering Wenchang Pagoda that graced a nearby hilltop, visible even before one entered the town’s gates.

It was ever thus in regions steeped in the arts, where the beacon of the Wenchang Pagoda preceded the sight of the town itself.

Qing Tong, unfurling his spiritual senses, meticulously surveyed the county town. Yet, try as he might, he found nothing to suggest it was a place where “water’s depth mattered naught, for a dragon dwelled within.” Given Qing Tong’s cultivation and discerning eye, he should have detected some subtle sign, yet the rivers and streams around the county seemed devoid of even a river sprite. The very air of the county was thin with spiritual energy, and martial fortune was tragically absent, a mere trifle unworthy of notice. Traces of literary fortune lingered, though they were fleeting and insubstantial, like the inherited blessings of ancestors, emanating from imperial decree牌坊楼(memorial archways) and the ancestral halls displaying inscribed plaques declaring “Passed the Imperial Examination.” Even in humble, impoverished homes, such echoes could be found. Qing Tong grew increasingly perplexed, wondering if he was somehow blind to a hidden truth—perhaps an reclusive grand cultivator or a merit-laden sage concealed their presence here, deliberately obscuring the heavenly secrets?

Unable to contain his curiosity, Qing Tong inquired, “Who is it we seek on this journey?”

Chen Pingan smiled and replied, “We seek no one in particular, just a casual observation. Once the affairs in Tongye Continent are concluded, I shall return to Luo Po Mountain, and thereafter reside here for a time… Though not a permanent dwelling, more akin to a bureaucratic duty. I shall establish a Mengxue (a private school providing primary education in ancient China) in a local country school.”

During his recent journey, Chen Pingan had, with the borrowed might of Lu Chen’s Daoist arts, observed this place through the eyes of a fourteenth realm cultivator, and found it to his liking. Huangting bordered the former territory of Great Li, neither too far nor too near Luo Po Mountain, and he intended to settle here as a humble schoolteacher.

Qing Tong thought he must have misheard. “A country school Mengxue?! Establish a school and become a teaching master?”

Even if Chen Pingan, as yet unburdened by Wenmiao (Confucian Temple) accolades, were to assume the helm of one of the Confucian seventy-two academies, even without the honorific title, Qing Tong would not have been so astonished.

Chen Pingan simply nodded. “With my meager learning, barely more than half a bucket of ink, I can only hope to instruct young children.”

Qing Tong refused to believe such a humble assessment. He immediately redoubled his efforts, convinced his earlier spiritual sweep had been careless, causing him to miss crucial signs. In an instant, the entirety of Suian County was enveloped within Qing Tong’s mustard seed heart-mind, encompassing government offices, ancestral temples, grand residences, humble streets, shops of every kind, even the depths of ancient wells, yet he remained empty-handed. After a few blinks of the eye, still unwilling to admit defeat, Qing Tong meticulously examined the mountains and rivers surrounding the county, scrutinizing the very veins of the land and waterways. Finally, he withdrew his spiritual senses, and tentatively asked, “Have you discovered a promising young cultivator?”

Chen Pingan retorted with a smile, “If you were under the tutelage of my senior brother Cui, you would surely flourish.”

Qing Tong understood the implication—that he was one who sought gain.

Chen Pingan, hands tucked within his sleeves, led Qing Tong into the town, both moving as if unseen.

The streets teemed with activity, for it was the eve of the New Year, and though the shops were shuttered, the air vibrated with festive cheer.

Chen Pingan remarked, “I passed through here some time ago and perused a few local county records in the county yamen. It has been over a century since a 進士(scholar who passed the imperial examination) has been produced, like a barren year with a poor harvest.”

Qing Tong recalled that within the twelve illusory landscape paintings, this young Hidden Official from the lineage of the Literary Saint was remarkably familiar with the intricacies of the imperial examination system.

Could he truly intend to become an anonymous village tutor, spending his days surrounded by children in open-crotched pants, noses running?

The lord of two sects, the closed-door disciple of the Literary Saint, spending years, perhaps decades, to cultivate a so-called 進士(scholar who passed the imperial examination)?

Chen Pingan continued, unperturbed, “I’ve decided on a pseudonym—Dou Yi.”

Qing Tong asked, “From the *Yi Ji* chapter, ‘Ministers assist the people, and all states prosper’?”

Chen Pingan seemed mildly surprised. “I had not expected such erudition from Daoist friend Qing Tong.”

Qing Tong’s mouth twitched. “Hidden Official flatters me.”

Chen Pingan replied, “Whether it is flattery or not, the praise is sincere.”

Qing Tong, remembering the words “all are important” spoken by the young Hidden Official to Chen Zhenrong at the banks of Qili Creek, comforted himself with the thought that while he might be insufficient compared to those above, he was certainly more than sufficient compared to those below.

Qing Tong smiled and asked, “If Hidden Official were to devote himself to the imperial examinations, could he achieve the coveted Lianzhong Sanyuan (the first scholar in all three levels of the imperial examination: the xiucai level, the provincial level, and the metropolitan level)?”

Chen Pingan pondered for a moment, then said, “Lianzhong Sanyuan? That’s beyond any possibility. In the Great Li Dynasty, I would likely struggle to even obtain the second class 進士(scholar who passed the imperial examination), let alone the top three. But in this Huangting, helping Suian County regain a plaque of Jinshi Jidi (an awarded plaque to those scholars who passed the imperial examination), there is hope. It’s not necessarily because I possess great learning, but because the art of imperial examination is rife with tricks, especially in smaller nations. There are shortcuts to be taken. The calligraphy on the examination papers, the formal style, can be subtly adjusted to cater to the tastes of the examiners and assessors. One can always tailor one’s work to their liking.”

Qing Tong remarked, “I heard that among your direct disciples is a gifted scholar named Cao Qinglang, who was once the Bangyan (second place scholar) of the Great Li Dynasty?”

*If only he had always spoken so plainly, I would have invited Qing Tong to drink long ago,* Chen Pingan mused.

Chen Pingan smiled and added, “To clarify, Cao Qinglang was not only the Bangyan(second place scholar) of the Palace Examination but also the Huiyuan (first place scholar of the metropolitan exam) of the prior Capital Spring Examination, so Emperor Song He’s judgment was truly lacking.”

Had Emperor Song He chosen Cao Qinglang as the Zhuangyuan(first place scholar), Chen Pingan would have, at the very least, stood up to greet him during their meeting at the wedding in the capital, even if he did not agree to the other matter.

Afterward, at Chunshan Academy, Chen Pingan and his teacher discussed this matter, with both sharing similar sentiments—one as the student, and the other as the student’s student, each feeling indignation.

Leading Qing Tong with practiced ease through the streets, Chen Pingan abruptly asked, “In the tavern earlier, you seemed to be chatting quite happily with Yang Zhi about Xiao Mo? Is there some… tale behind it?”

Qing Tong shook his head vehemently. “No! Absolutely not!”

This blatant denial was more revealing than any confession.

Chen Pingan smiled. “Tell me, and I promise not to betray your confidence to Xiao Mo.”

Regarding Xiao Mo’s history, not only were there no records in Haoran, but even in the Barbaric World, little gossip circulated. Otherwise, the Summer Palace would surely have documented it. Furthermore, Xiao Mo rarely spoke of himself.

Qing Tong continued to shake his head as if warding off evil, but then he suddenly chuckled, quickly covering his mouth with his fist and feigning a cough.

This was even more suspicious.

Chen Pingan cast a sidelong glance and said, “I’ll just ask Xiao Mo myself later.”

Fearing that Chen Pingan might embellish the story when speaking with Xiao Mo, Qing Tong relented. “Yang Zhi mentioned a minor incident—that Xiao Mo was once pursued by a female cultivator.”

Chen Pingan’s eyes immediately lit up. “Pursued how? What was her name?”

Qing Tong reluctantly replied, “Her assumed name was Bai Jing, as for her Daoist names, there were many, akin to a woman changing clothes. Some of the more well-known were ‘Morning Haze,’ ‘Outer Scenery,’ and ‘Shining Spirit.'”

“I have never met her, only heard rumors—that her swordsmanship is exceptional, her killing power immense, and her temper dreadful. Bai Jing, like Xiao Mo, is a sword cultivator. She is also the wielder of the ‘Woven Armor’ and of similar age to Xiao Mo, yet she ascended to the Ascension Realm slightly before him. She once established a Daoist temple within the great sun of the Barbaric World, but could not reside there for long, and needed to rebuild her dwelling every few centuries. Thus, half of the demon cultivators in the Barbaric World who worship the sun and moon cannot avoid her, and must pay tribute to this sword cultivator.”

Listening to the female sword cultivator’s assumed name and multitude of Daoist names, Chen Pingan asked curiously, “Could Bai Jing be an incarnation of fire essence?”

Strange and mystical, each has their origin.

The Daoist name “Outer Scenery” was truly remarkable.

Qing Tong shook his head. “That has been the speculation, but it is likely not so. Earlier, at the wine shop, Yang Zhi and I inquired about this, and he said that Bai Jing’s foundational Dao comes not from the ‘mystical’ path, but from a demon who opened her mind, shaped her form, and ascended step by step to the peak. Yang Zhi also said that Fei Fei is likely Bai Jing’s student.”

Chen Pingan grew more puzzled. “Then why did she pursue Xiao Mo? Was it a conflict of great Dao, or a feud between sword cultivators?”

Qing Tong chuckled. “It seems Bai Jing was smitten with Xiao Mo and wished to become his Daoist partner. Xiao Mo refused, and they dueled three times, each time Xiao Mo was defeated. He could only flee, eventually hiding near Luo Bao Beach and brewing wine with the Cave Master of Bixiao.”

In truth, Yang Zhi had been even more direct, saying something that swept away all the pent-up emotions in Qing Tong’s chest, which explained why he had been in such a good mood ever since, traveling with Chen Pingan.

Yang Zhi’s words were, “Bai Jing almost slept with Xiao Mo.”

Chen Pingan said, “Yang Zhi is gossipy, and you enable him?”

Qing Tong was rendered speechless. *If you hadn’t asked, would I have said anything?*

Chen Pingan stroked his chin and clicked his tongue. “I never imagined our Xiao Mo had such a tale.”

This Huangting State contained within its borders the Han Shi River, the Yu River, the Bai Hu River, and the Tie Quan River, the upper reaches of the Bai Hu River, all of which were top-ranking river deities.

As one of the vassal states of the Great Li Dynasty, possessing so much water transport was surely a blessing inherited from ancestors, a “legacy” from the former Divine Water Kingdom.

Wu Yi, the female founder of Ziyang, returned from her travels aboard a private ferry shaped like a colorful pavilion. Reaching the Tie Quan River, she descended with a graceful wave of her sleeves, transforming the dozens of maids and servants aboard into a stack of talismanic paper figures. With a silent incantation, she transformed the ornate three-story boat into a tiny carved olive boat, and stored both the boat and the talismans in her sleeve.

The Tie Quan River God’s temple, named Jixiang Temple, housed a painted statue of a refined old scholar. Sensing the dense Daoist aura of the Ziyang founder, the statue shimmered with golden light, and a tall, thin old man emerged—the River God himself. He immediately flew hundreds of miles out of the temple and, upon seeing the aloof woman on the opposite bank, bowed deeply, shouting, “Tie Quan River God, Gao Niang, respectfully welcomes the arrival of Lady Dong Ling!”

Sincerity was measured by the loudness of one’s voice.

Although officially sanctioned by the Huangting Dynasty, he was, in truth, a vassal of Ziyang; the River God’s temple was more like a family temple.

Wu Yi, as the eldest daughter of Old Jiao(a kind of dragon in Chinese legend) Cheng Longzhou, bore the Daoist name Dong Ling. As a female cultivator skilled in spells and sorcery, she was also honored as Lady Dong Ling.

Of course, this title was a presumption; not just any female cultivator could bear the title of Yuanjun. However, in the Haoran world, so long as one was not a Daoist nun or a mountain and water deity, the Wenmiao was not overly concerned. This was similar to the proliferation of unsanctioned shrines that the various dynasties could never eradicate. However, in the strictly regimented Daoist ceremonies of the Qing Ming world, only a female nun above the fifth realm could be granted the title of Yuanjun—an iron rule established by the Grand Teacher.

Wu Yi had always been pleased by the title “Lady Dong Ling,” feeling that it was not disrespectful. Outsiders simply addressed her too early; someday, she would rightfully earn the title.

But today, Wu Yi frowned and scolded, “What Yuanjun? Do you know the rules?”

The Tie Quan River God immediately amended, “This lowly god greets Old Ancestor Dong Ling!”

Wu Yi’s change of heart stemmed from a decree from her father. Cheng Longzhou had ordered her to be more proper at home, to avoid ostentatious displays of power. If he learned of a poor rating from the Mountain and Water Assessment conducted by the Northern Mountain Lord Wei and the Great Li Ministry of Rites, he would confine her to Great Fu Academy for a century of study, lest outsiders accuse him of failing to raise his children properly.

Recently, Wu Yi had traveled across the sea to Tongye Continent aboard an old Dragon City Fu family ferry to pay respects to her father, congratulating him on his promotion. Wu Yi, of course, did not arrive empty-handed. She emptied half of Ziyang’s treasury as a gift. Her younger brother, being the Han Shi River God, could not leave his territory without permission, so he had to have his sister Wu Yi help bring the gifts.

Their father, Cheng Longzhou, had been promoted from Deputy Head of Linlu Academy on Pi Yun Mountain to Head of Great Fu Academy on Tongye Continent, one of the Confucian seventy-two academies.

For the siblings, the only real benefit was that they no longer had to fear being eaten by their father.

Then, as the year drew to a close, Wu Yi returned to Bao Ping Continent, made a trip to the new site of Old Dragon City, and helped the Huangting Emperor negotiate deals with the local powerful families. She then visited the Yunlin Jiang family near the East Great River estuary, and finally paid her respects to the “longtime acquaintance” Linli Earl. This old Qian Tang Water Jiao(a kind of dragon in Chinese legend), after being promoted to Marquis of the Great River, still had his mansion in Qili Creek. By seniority, he was technically Wu Yi’s uncle, but in reality, they were peers. Wu Yi’s years of cultivation were longer, but the water Jiao(a kind of dragon in Chinese legend) had been fortunate, surpassing her in his cultivation. While Wu Yi struggled to reach the Nascent Soul realm, the Qian Tang long had long been a Daoist Nascent Soul Water Jiao(a kind of dragon in Chinese legend).

Wu Yi lazily asked, “Is Xiao Luan waiting at the mansion?”

The old River God replied, “Reporting to Old Ancestor Dong Ling, that woman has been at the mansion for three days, awaiting your return. Our Lady White Egret River God is known for not visiting unless she has a purpose. I wonder what she hopes to achieve by blocking the door this time.”

He and Xiao Luan were at odds, so he never missed an opportunity to undermine Xiao Luan in the eyes of Wu Yi and Ziyang.

The White Egret River Temple and Water Mansion were only three hundred li away from Ziyang, but for hundreds of years before Wu Yi’s “seclusion,” the White Egret River Water Mansion had no friendly ties with Ziyang.

Earlier, Wu Yi had sent a flying sword letter to Ziyang, instructing the mansion to prepare a New Year’s Eve dinner.

The lord of the mansion, Huang Zhu, did not dare to neglect the order. He immediately sent cultivators to purchase delicacies of all kinds. The Zhenxiu Tower, now visible at immortal ferries everywhere, had delivered five or six food boxes to Ziyang, just yesterday and today. One of the dishes contained golden crab, a specialty of Shujian Lake, specifically the rare “bamboo branch” variety. It was said that Zhenxiu Tower in Pool Water City had sent people specifically to deliver it to Ziyang. Rumor had it that even local wild cultivators in Shujian Lake rarely ate the “bamboo branch” golden crab, as being able to eat it once was considered extremely fortunate.

Wu Yi glanced at the habitually obedient River God. “Gao Niang, there’s a place for you at this evening’s New Year’s Eve dinner. Don’t be late.”

Without giving him a chance to offer further flattery, Wu Yi formed a Daoist incantation, used a water spell, and transformed her body into a ribbon of emerald flowing water. Lightning crackled around her as she shot into the sky, causing the clouds to churn. The entire Ziyang mansion swayed, and Wu Yi reformed into her tall, female form in a great hall.

Wu Yi was now in the Sword Scolding Hall.

Most pedigree cultivators, upon returning to their sect, first visited the Ancestral Hall to offer incense and pay respects to their ancestors.

However, Wu Yi was the founder of Ziyang; she could hardly worship herself. As for the puppet lords of the mansion, many had become her food. Their greed knew no bounds. Some had learned a few bedroom arts and sought to cultivate with her, others had tried to seize power during her seclusion, and still others had colluded with outsiders in an attempt to betray their master.

The Old Ancestor Dong Ling’s return was a grand affair. Even those in the distant corners of the mansion, the pedigree cultivators, servants, and laborers, all stopped their tasks and knelt, chanting, “Greetings, Old Ancestor.”

Regardless of whether the founder saw or heard them, it was a matter of respect.

Wu Yi turned to face the hall entrance, waiting for Huang Zhu and the others to come and welcome her.

*There is some truth to the saying, “A golden kennel is not as good as one’s own straw kennel*,” she mused.

In the past, in Bao Ping Continent, even an earth immortal, or even someone in the Dragon Gate Realm, was enough to roam freely and flaunt their power. But that was no longer the case. Now, even a Nascent Soul cultivator had to be careful.

By the Tie Quan River, Gao Niang stood for a long time, unable to tear his gaze away. The river at his feet was agitated by the residual energy of Wu Yi’s escape technique, creating waves. The old River God did not dare to calm the waters. He simply stood there, sighing. Old Ancestor Dong Ling’s water technique was truly profound and divine, even more refined than his as a River God. He could not help but sigh and shake his head, murmuring, “Each has their fate; there is no room for envy.”

A slightly amused voice sounded in his ear. “Indeed, it is enviable.”

Gao Niang spun around and saw a foreigner in a blue gown. He looked familiar. Upon closer inspection, Gao Niang recognized him instantly.

The man’s identity was multifaceted. Picking just one would have been enough to ruin him. The old River God felt that he could not muster even a tenth of his strength.

Chen Pingan smiled. “There is no need for such formality, River God Gao.”

Gao Niang asked cautiously, “Is Mountain Lord Chen here to visit Old Ancestor Dong Ling?”

Chen Pingan nodded. “I am here to discuss something with Wu Yi.”

Gao Niang immediately offered, “This lowly god is willing to lead the way for Mountain Lord Chen!”

The Tie Quan River God, known for his motto, “Better for my Daoist friend to die than for this poor Daoist to die, and I’ll even help him pick up his wallet,” was of a lesser rank on the golden jade pedigree than the White Egret River God. His temple statue was three inches shorter, but his golden body was no less resilient than Xiao Luan’s. This was the benefit of having backing. Cultivation within the public sector in a secular dynasty required connections. A mountain deity needed someone on the mountain, too. The Tie Quan River, due to its relationship with Ziyang, had immortal money in its temple treasury. With money, one could win over immortal masters and dignitaries, helping to spread his name. Fame brought pilgrims, and pilgrims brought incense. With enough incense, the wishes of the faithful would come true.

Chen Pingan smiled. “There’s no rush to go to Ziyang. I’ll trouble River God Gao to show me around the Tie Quan River.”

“It is an honor and a privilege.”

Gao Niang did not dare to speak loudly, trembling as he said, “I only fear that the Tie Quan River’s scenery is too ordinary and will not catch Mountain Lord Chen’s eye.”

Chen Pingan shook his head and smiled. “I passed through quickly last time, only glimpsing the Tie Quan River’s beauty. This time, I must make amends.”

Later, they casually discussed Ziyang’s unusually lavish New Year’s Eve dinner. Chen Pingan’s expression grew strange.

“Hard to see two bamboo branch crabs in one lifetime” was now included in many Mountain and Water gazettes.

He estimated that this saying alone would cause the sales of Shujian Lake’s golden crabs to skyrocket. Not just generals and ministers, but even mountain cultivators, as long as they had money and connections, would they believe this nonsense?

After eating one, they would want to eat a second. And after eating a third or fourth, they might find it to be just okay. But those who could eat multiple bamboo branch crabs would inevitably encounter situations where their friends and colleagues would not know what gifts to give them, or what gifts to use to develop connections during the autumn harvest. Surely, giving this, instead of vulgar money, would be the right thing to do.

This was clearly the business acumen of Dong Shui Jing.

*What is innate talent? This, perhaps, is it.*

Chen Pingan said via mind voice, “Do you think there have been too many coincidences on this journey?”

At Qidu Bixiao Palace, Shao Yunyan and Madame Tuoyan, the Water Lord of Nan Tang Lake, just happened to be visiting. Otherwise, Chen Pingan would not have sought out Nan Tang Lake.

Later, at Qili Creek, besides Cao Yong’s Daoist destiny with the Pure Yang Daoist, they also encountered Chen Zhenrong and Qin Buyi.

And at this Ziyang, the White Egret River God Lady Xiao Luan just happened to be there.

Qing Tong had been walking nearby, wearing a veiled hat and a green Daoist robe, walking slowly along the riverbank.

Qing Tong said in a bitter voice, “The painting matter was indeed arranged by Zou Zi, but beyond that, I truly know nothing. Could these coincidences also be Zou Zi’s doing?”

Chen Pingan remained noncommittal.

Qing Tong had been traveling with this person, seeing and hearing him interact with various water deities and cultivators. A thought grew stronger and stronger in Qing Tong’s mind. It was said that everyone was different, but with this guy, had everyone been feeding him? Qing Tong suddenly felt uneasy, but he noticed that Chen Pingan seemed distracted.

The reason Chen Pingan was certain that he would not go to Nan Tang Lake was that he had remembered a very… irritating principle.

It was a principle “neither spoken of in books nor mentioned by old sayings.”

If one volunteered to do good deeds, it was best not to do them as if they were good deeds, thus saving oneself a lot of trouble.

This aligned with the book principle that a gentleman does not seek repayment for his kindness, but more importantly, it ensured that no matter what happened in the future, there would be no disappointment. If there was any repayment from others, it would be an unexpected joy.

Chen Pingan had this thought because his student Cui Dongshan had once made extremely “heart-wrenching” and harsh remarks, saying that many good people in the world did good deeds—the people were indeed good, and the deeds were indeed good. The only problem was that they might not seek any financial reward, but they inevitably sought some emotional response from others. Once this happened, in the eyes of some who had been helped, it might even be less refreshing and easier to take than the former.

Chen Pingan continued to chat with Gao Niang, asking the River God for some local chronicles of the prefectures and counties around the Tie Quan River. Gao Niang, of course, readily agreed. Such a small matter was as light as a feather.

Yan Prefecture, where Suian County was located, was only separated from the Tie Quan River and Ziyang by Yun Prefecture.

In Yun Prefecture, the Great Li Dynasty had found the ruins of an ancient Shu Dragon Palace. The stream there was recently named Wu Creek, and its water was excellent, like sweet spring water.

Like the Dragon Beard River in his hometown, there was a similar stone arch bridge, only without ancient swords hanging beneath it.

Qing Tong asked, “Now that we’ve reached Red Candle Town, why not return to Luo Po Mountain for a look?”

Chen Pingan smiled. “That is called near-home timidity.”

Back at the Sword Scolding Hall of Ziyang, Wu Yi sat high on the throne, while Huang Zhu led a large group of Ancestral Hall members in a hurried procession. They arranged themselves by seniority, and after entering the hall, they stood in their respective positions and bowed to the Old Ancestor Dong Ling along with Lord Huang Zhu.

Wu Yi smiled playfully.

She was thinking of a scene that would occur in ten or twenty years, which she believed would be even grander than this gathering of cats and dogs.

At that time, she would be standing atop a brand new imperial court of a nation. The only change was that she would assume a different identity—that of a female national preceptor. Wu Yi might wear purple robes and wield green jade, second only to the ruler and above all others.

Her father, who had served as a minister of Huangting for many years, had revealed a secret to Wu Yi: the tall young man Yu Lu, who had once visited Linjian Villa, was actually the crown prince of the fallen Lu Dynasty.

Yu Lu’s dragon energy was, to Wu Yi, the most delicious tonic in the world.

However, at the time, her father had not made a move, so Wu Yi did not dare to act rashly. To compete with her father for food was to court death.

A few years ago, Wu Yi had finally broken through the Golden Core bottleneck and reached the Nascent Soul Realm with a side door technique. Her chance to reach the Jade Purity Realm lay in the appearance of Qidu. As long as she could successfully follow the waterway of the Great River, she believed she could become one of the few fifth-realm water long on a continent.

As for her younger brother, who had been transferred to serve as the Han Shi River God, this path was closed to him. It was too late for regrets.

In any case, compared to before, they, the remnants of the various sea and land Dragon Palaces and descendants of the Jiao, were much better off. For in the long years when there was no true Dragon in the world, the existence of the Dragon Slayer was like a law of heaven, hanging over the heads of all Dragon descendants. Thus, the Nascent Soul Realm was the end of the road. Her father was like this, and so was the Qian Tang old long in Fengshui Cave. They could only stagnate in this realm, and dared not travel the waterways.

Moreover, this trip across continents to congratulate her father had brought an unexpected joy. Her father had personally imparted to her a secret, pointing out a promising path to reach the fifth realm.

Therefore, on this return to Ziyang, Wu Yi would discuss relocation with Huang Zhu. In addition to emptying the treasury, Wu Yi would take half of the mansion’s pedigree cultivators to Tongye Continent, waiting for an opportunity. “Discuss” was just a polite term; Wu Yi would simply issue an order, and Ziyang would obey. As for the remaining empty shell of Ziyang, Wu Yi would promise Huang Zhu that she would no longer interfere with any matters, big or small, and would completely relinquish authority to Huang Zhu, allowing a nominal lord to truly wield power. This would be enough for Huang Zhu to become a powerful figure in Huangting.

Upon hearing the Old Ancestor’s decision, Huang Zhu and the others exchanged glances.

*What is the Old Ancestor doing? The New Year’s Eve dinner hasn’t even started, and she’s already dividing the family?*

Wu Yi tapped the armrest of the chair with her fingers, and tapped the ground with her toes.

Huang Zhu’s heart tightened, and he immediately said, “I will fetch the ancestral hall records and let the Ancestor choose disciples.”

Soon, Huang Zhu brought a booklet and respectfully presented it to the founder with both hands.

Wu Yi opened the Ziyang pedigree and circled the names she liked with her finger.

The hall was silent, with only the rustling sound of the Old Ancestor turning pages. Huang Zhu did not dare to breathe loudly, but his heart was somewhat relieved, because the Ancestor did not circle many names at the beginning of the pedigree, but selected more people in the middle pages. This meant that most of the backbone cultivators and enshrined ones in the Dragon Gate and Sea Watching realms would remain. If the Old Ancestor was willing to keep her promise and no longer interfere with the mansion’s affairs, then the lord of the mansion, Huang Zhu, would certainly be benefit from this.

Wu Yi maintained her lazy posture of reading, but then a sudden upward glance caused Huang Zhu to lower his gaze.

Wu Yi tossed the booklet back to Huang Zhu and flicked her sleeves. “Everyone except Huang Zhu may leave and attend to their duties.”

Huang Zhu took the pedigree into his sleeve, held his breath, and waited for the Old Ancestor to give her orders.

Wu Yi stood up, walked down the steps, and Huang Zhu stepped back, then turned sideways. After the Old Ancestor brushed past him, he turned around and followed.

Wu Yi asked with displeasure, “Why has Xiao Luan come uninvited? What does she want?”

Huang Zhu answered with a stiff face, “She is very tight-lipped. I have met her twice, but I have not been able to get anything out of her. She only said that she needed to discuss it with the Old Ancestor.”

Wu Yi’s expression became increasingly gloomy. She did not take the White Egret River God seriously. When Xiao Luan first visited Ziyang, Wu Yi had humiliated her. If Chen Pingan had not smoothed things over at the time, Wu Yi would have been determined to make Xiao Luan, known as the “canna lily”, drink until she vomited in her hall. *You’re said to be graceful and dignified, Lady River God? Then I’ll expose your ugly side and let those admirers who see you as a goddess in a painting think about what that “beautiful” painting would look like!*

Once, a foreign Nascent Soul old immortal passed by Huangting and took a boat across the river with his friend, drinking under the moon. On a whim, he threw his wine cup into the water, transforming it into a white egret.

Later, he had a brief affair with the founding emperor of Huangting.

And that Nascent Soul cultivator’s “friend” was Wu Yi’s father, the Old Long Cheng Longzhou, who humbly sought Daoist methods from this traveling Daoist.

Therefore, in Wu Yi’s eyes, did this White Egret River God, with her improper origins and no background, deserve to be on equal footing with her?

To this day, Wu Yi did not know the true identity of the Daoist, not even his name.

She only remembered that the middle-aged foreign Daoist, wearing a yellow gown and hemp shoes, carrying a sword and a whisk, was indeed like an immortal.

Wu Yi asked her father about it once, but dared not ask again.

Cheng Longzhou only said a few words in an enigmatic way, saying as if he had not said anything.

“Use a limited body to refine an infinite fire yard.”

“Forming an unparalleled golden core guest, an earth immortal is not shamed by a celestial immortal.”

Clearly, her father held this wandering Daoist in high regard.

If not for this relationship, Xiao Luan could not have secured the position of White Egret River God.

Wu Yi emphasized her tone and asked, “Is the mountain still sealed?”

Huang Zhu nodded. “It has always been closed to outsiders, and visitors are not allowed to climb the mountain.”

Wu Yi curled her lips and said with a complex expression, “Can you believe it?”

Huang Zhu wisely remained silent.

In less than thirty years, Luo Po Mountain had transformed from an unknown mountain into a sect.

Some immortal abodes that had painstakingly established their sect might have only recruited a few disciples in thirty years. The construction of their abodes and the establishment of protective arrays were just taking shape. They would only burn incense if they could gain a foothold in the area and become acquainted with the neighboring immortal abodes and the countries below the mountain.

Therefore, of course Huang Zhu did not believe it.

But he did not dare to comment on Luo Po Mountain’s rise.

In fact, Wu Yi and Ziyang had not paid much attention to Luo Po Mountain in the past, and had not thought about trying to build a relationship.

Now, even if Ziyang wanted to climb the high branch, it was far beyond their reach.

The unremarkable Luo Po Mountain near Pi Yun Mountain had risen without a sound and taken the world by storm. The recently promoted Zhengyang Mountain was like a pitiful foil, a stepping stone.

As Fengxue Temple said fairly, this celebration of the Bamboo Emperor was for Luo Po Mountain.

Wu Yi immediately had the current Lord of the Mansion, Huang Zhu, personally make a trip to the old Long Prefecture and send a belated congratulatory gift. Even if she knew it would not be appreciated, it was still better to greet people with a smile.

The young Mountain Lord was not home at the time, and had gone out traveling again. The person who received guests at Luo Po Mountain was the steward Zhu Lian, who was also somewhat of an acquaintance. He had visited Ziyang with Chen Pingan in the past, and had seemed to have a good chat with Huang Zhu.

The reason Wu Yi did not go to Luo Po Mountain in person was, laughably, that she could not bring herself to do it, and even more… that she dared not go.

That dark-skinned little girl who followed Chen Pingan back then was actually the future female Great Grandmaster Zheng Qian! Pei Qian, the first disciple of Luo Po Mountain.

Wu Yi had contributed to the central Bao Ping campaign, and had seen Zheng Qian’s punches on the battlefield from afar.

That young woman with a bun hairstyle often killed demons and saved people at the same time.

Privately, during the lulls in the fighting, the pedigree immortals of Bao Ping gathered and talked, and in the end, they all came to the same conclusion: it was fortunate that Zheng Qian was one of them.

The capital of the Great Li even made an exception and passed a resolution allowing Zheng Qian to open a battlefront by herself when she went to the battlefield.

Wu Yi could not overlap that heroic young female Great Grandmaster who wielded the power of thunder with that dark-skinned child from back then.

Wu Yi remembered that at the banquet that night, Chen Pingan did indeed have a little tagalong, a strange and clever little girl. She used a clumsy excuse to ask her master Chen Pingan for a cup of the mansion’s immortal brew, but in the end, she could only drink a cup of fruit brew to quench her thirst.

In the capital, Wu Yi once encountered the young Grandmaster walking on the street while visiting a friend in a carriage. At the time, Wu Yi was still