The wizened scholar bowed low at the doorway, his silver hair catching the fading light. “A humble Lu Sheng pays respects to Headmaster Lu.”

They greeted each other, a reunion after long years. One spoke of “Brother Xizhou,” while the other styled himself a junior. Their words held no veiled meanings, no whispers of the soul, and so the maiden heard them clear. Her brow furrowed. “Headmaster Lu?”

*Headmaster?*

Could this young Taoist, who claimed only a smattering of “immortal arts,” be a figure of the martial world? For who, outside the great sects, dared to claim such a title?

Yet, if he was but a warrior, how could he explain the talisman upon her shoulder, weighing upon her with the force of a thousand mountains, stealing her strength? Or perhaps, he was merely of a wealthy house, able to purchase such enchantments from the mountain immortals with a fortune.

Lu Chen’s gaze drifted to the maiden, a nod of acknowledgement in his eyes. “Fair lady, your insight is keen. You are not wrong. Besides a few paltry spells, this humble Taoist is, in truth, a martial artist of hidden depths. ‘Grandmaster’ is a word tailored for my very being.”

The old scholar chuckled, a spark of memory in his eyes. This Third Headmaster of Baiyujing had indeed penned an essay titled “The Grandmaster,” though with the passage of time, it had become the honorific solely for accomplished warriors.

Lu Sheng entered the kitchen, seating himself opposite Lu Chen. A bowl and chopsticks already awaited him, alongside a second flask of wine, a clear sign of hospitality for this unexpected reunion.

“How did the esteemed Sect Leader Jiang allow you to leave the Blessed Grotto of Yunkul?” Lu Chen inquired.

Lu, surnamed thus, poured himself a cup, a smile playing upon his lips. “An agreement was struck with Jiang Shangzhen. I am here to settle an old score. Afterward, I shall return to my life as a boatman.”

In that blessed grotto, he went by the name Ni Yuanzan, earning his bread by ferrying souls across the waters.

It was whispered that, long ago, at the Yellow Crane Islet, one of Yunkul’s eighteen wonders, a nameless sword immortal had imbibed deeply within the pavilion.

When at last he succumbed to his revelry, he let forth a single burp, and from his mouth flew a sword pellet. The light of the blade was as a rainbow, slicing through the river’s mosquitoes.

Cui Dongshan and the old boatman had once shared a small ferry, exchanging riddles that peeled away layers of their “identities.”

One, a “lone azure ox that attends the Jade Palace, leaving a yellow crane to guard the golden elixir,” his mortal shell once belonging to the ancient Yellow Crane, “renowned amongst the constellations.”

The other, a “Star Lord pours fine wine, urging the dragons to share the cup,” an ancient dragon of the Shu Kingdom, its mortal vessel having journeyed amongst the stars, offered drink by the Stellar Lord of the Northern Dipper.

The boatman, Ni Yuanzan, in his drunken state, had slain a fiend that even Jiang Shangzhen, in his Jade Purity state, found troublesome. The creature fed upon the world’s spiritual energy, moving unseen and nigh uncatchable. Yet, the boatman, with his unique skills and mystic swordsmanship, held the natural advantage. With a single stroke, he had slain it, delivering the Jiang clan from a threat within their own sanctuary.

“Sir Xizhou,” Lu Chen began, “have you never met the Lady Sui who stepped from the painting? If my memory serves, before becoming a direct disciple of a True Realm sect in Treasure Bottle Continent, she practiced in Jade Guilloche Sect for several years. You were but a step away. Why did teacher and student never meet? Would it not be a tale for the ages, to renew your bond in this world?”

Lu Sheng shook his head. “The affairs of past lives and their karmic ties should end here. Otherwise, the confusion will only grow, with no end in sight.”

Lu Chen sighed, clapping his hands. “Words of such wisdom could awaken a thousand dreamers on the mountains.”

Lu Sheng smiled, shaking his head. “Headmaster Lu, no need for such flattery.”

Lu Chen, raising his wine bowl with a mournful gaze, lamented, “In the matter of disciples, I admit my inadequacy. None of my students have yet achieved the title of ‘First Under Heaven,’ leaving their master unwanted wherever he goes. Look at the Old Scholar. Even in Azure Vault, within the Mysterious Capital Temple, he is as comfortable as in his own home.”

Lu Sheng could only laugh. The title of First Under Heaven in Lotus Root Blessed Land was not comparable to that of the Vast Expanse! He could not possibly accept such praise.

Lu Chen’s disciples were all masters of the Tao, with Cao Rong and He Xiaoliang remaining in the Vast Expanse, both destined for ascension.

Within the View of the Tao in Lotus Root Blessed Land, beside the master of Emerald Cloud Cave, and occasional guests such as the Pure Yang, there were also the “exiled immortals” from the continent of Tung Leaf, undergoing trials of the heart in the mundane world. The blessed land itself was not devoid of talent. Had the old master not deliberately suppressed the spiritual energies, preventing ordinary people from cultivating, a multitude of earth immortals would have arisen, similar to Fluttering Continent or Jiang Shangzhen’s Grotto of Clouds. But in the history of Lotus Root, the mortal closest to heaven was a woman.

Sui Youbian.

A “predecessor” in the martial world, admired even by Yu Zhenyi of Lakes and Mountains Sect.

To fight in the mortal realm, to become a champion, was, in Yu Zhenyi’s eyes, a fool’s errand, escaping the bounds of the mundane.

Sui Youbian was different. She flew to the heavens, presenting three swords to the sky.

Her origin within Lotus Root was quite good, similar to the later nobleman Zhu Lian. Her elders were not ignorant, so why did they give her such a perfunctory name?

Some higher power must have had expectations, hoping that she would forge her own path, different from the commoners.

“Youbian,” (right side), stood in contrast to the “man on the left of Handan road.”

And the scholar calling himself Lu Sheng was her teacher in Lotus Root, imparting to her knowledge, martial arts, and swordsmanship.

As one of the protagonists of “A Dream of Yellow Millet,” Lu Sheng hoped that his disciple would walk a road different from his.

“Few walk the wide path of the Three Purities, while countless seek the byways of the unorthodox. Many paths lead through this mortal world, yet celestial immortals and the true Way are hard to find.”

Lu Chen drank, chewing a greasy chicken leg. “I believe that Lady Sui’s achievements will be great. If I were you, Brother Xizhou, I would defy the Old Master’s will and give her the Golden Elixir. With that, she would become a great sword immortal. If her luck holds, the fall of Lotus Root would be the rise of the Vast Expanse, completing what could not be done before.”

Lu Sheng shook his head. “If Headmaster Lu interprets things thus, it is a strained comparison.”

According to *Keeping the Shrine* in the Temple of Literature, the ancient meaning of “Sui” was the leftover offerings after a sacrifice, “once sacrificed, its Sui is hidden.” Sages added that Sui includes, “the lungs, spine, millet, and grains used to sacrifice to the corpse.” And, according to Xu Shen of Zhaoling’s *Explaining Characters*, the word also meant “fallen.”

Lu Chen chuckled. “Is that so? When Sui Youbian failed to ascend, and her form withered away, was that not the first *corpse liberation* of Lotus Root? Because of her actions, Yu Zhenyi turned from martial arts to cultivation, determined to complete the task she had failed.”

Yu Zhenyi admired Sui Youbian, once joking that all heroes were merely her underlings.

There may have been martial artists who had surpassed her, but none had dared to challenge the heavens as she had.

“If you were to choose the Ten Grandmasters of Lotus Root,” Lu Chen said, “besides Ding Ying, the master of all martial arts, and the four from the painting brought out of Lotus Root by Chen Ping’an, along with Yu Zhenyi, the one who defied all martial tenets by going to the mountains to cultivate, all would be on the list.”

The four from the painting, along with Sui Youbian, had been the undisputed First Under Heaven in their respective eras.

Wei Xian had sought immortality but died of old age at 120. The Devil Cult leader, Lu Baixiang, had died in an ambush.

Zhu Lian sought death. Within the city, he had slaughtered all but nine of the top ten of the martial world.

Ding Ying had “luckily” claimed Zhu Lian’s silver lotus crown.

And Sui Youbian performed the unprecedented feat of flying to the heavens with her sword, drawing upon half the world’s martial fortunes. Alas, she failed to break the heavens, and with three brilliant strokes of her sword, her flesh melted away, and she crumbled to dust.

After that, it became law: The Way of Heaven cannot be defied.

Until Ding Ying, and Yu Zhenyi, the first “immortal” of Lotus Root who had cultivated on the mountain.

Lu Sheng nodded. “No argument there.”

Lu Chen asked, “According to their peaks, how would you rank the top three?”

Lu Sheng shook his head. “I have been away from Lotus Root for too long. Without witnessing their skills, I cannot presume to judge.”

Yet, Lu Sheng deserved a place on the list. He had achieved sword mastery. Otherwise, he could not have taught a disciple such as Sui Youbian.

He had walked this path before Sui Youbian. But it was not as celebrated because he challenged the Old Master.

He failed and lost his body, forced to wear a feathered robe, the skin of an old man.

He left Lotus Root, tasked by the Old Master to come to Tung Leaf Continent. Lu Sheng’s “ascension” was more celebrated outside his home. Like the magistrate Hao Su, whose ascension from his home had been so great that a city was named Riding Crane. The people said that an immortal had ridden a crane and ascended to the heavens, but the celestial event was just a small hill. A popular rhyme was: “Who rode away on the azure ox? The yellow crane flies again.”

Lu Sheng then went to Jade Guilloche Sect, hiding in Jiang clan’s Grotto of Clouds, earning a few coins as a ferryman, guarding the golden elixir hidden in Yellow Crane Islet.

The elixir had once belonged to a Taoist friend of the Old Master, who often visited Emerald Cloud Cave to discuss the Tao.

Lu Chen said, “Filling the sea with pure Qi was your creation. So was ‘Showing the Guts,’ an experimental path of Qi refining. Sui Youbian only gained the form, not the spirit, while Yu Zhenyi gained the spirit. Of the books you left, Sui Youbian kept them, but only half eventually fell into Yu Zhenyi’s hands.”

Lu Sheng took a sip of wine, his expression somber. “I searched the histories and legends and found that, in every era, there were aliens descending. Some were greatly changed, others appeared out of nowhere. I concluded that there must be heaven beyond heaven. What the books called ascension was a joke. My ‘world’ may have been just a remote place that nobody cared about.”

“I didn’t know that I was one of them. I wanted to leave and see the world. But I couldn’t give up my martial arts, so I explored the path while looking for a disciple close to the ‘cultivating embryo’ described in books. But it was all in vain. As a Confucian student, I tried Taoism, Buddhism, and none succeeded.”

Otherwise, how could Sui Youbian give up martial arts and suddenly become a sword cultivator?

Lu Chen nodded.

The idea of merging the three teachings came from the First Headmaster, Kou Ming.

This was why some cultivators of Azure Vault felt that the First Headmaster’s Taoism was mixed with Buddhism.

Zheng Juzhong, Wu Shuangjiang, Lu Sheng, the Taoist with the epithet “Pure Yang,” Lu Yan, and Chen Ping’an were experimenting on this path.

Qi Jingchun of Luminous Pearl, with his sixty years, walked the farthest, and the highest.

Lu Chen set down his chopsticks, stroking his chin. He glanced at the maiden outside the door and tossed a dried lychee into his mouth.

He had spoken frankly with Lin Zhengcheng in the Quarry Court.

Qi Jingchun had protected Luminous Pearl, taking on the heavenly tribulation alone.

The Temple of Literature felt that this was similar to Bai Ye going to Fluttering Continent with his sword, something they could advise against but not prevent.

The Buddhist sect did not intervene as fiercely as the immortals of Violet Tower in Azure Vault.

Only Baiyujing, specifically Yu Dou and Lu Chen, two headmasters whose character and path differed greatly, held such a strong position.

They feared that this was Qi Jingchun breaking and remaking himself, a path to becoming a founder.

Lu Chen was not worried about Qi Jingchun getting stronger. But he didn’t want to see his First Brother’s path cut off.

Lu Chen wanted his brother to help him verify something.

Yu Dou felt that if Qi Jingchun succeeded, then there would be no First Headmaster or elder brother.

Kou Ming had adopted Yu Dou and taught him.

Before Lu Chen left Baiyujing, Yu Dou warned him.

“Lu Chen, if you hesitate at the end,”

“I will act.”

Lu Chen said he had done nothing. He could fool others, but not Lin Zhengcheng or Chen Ping’an.

Lu Chen felt troubled. Picking up his chopsticks, he murmured, “Cultivation is just ‘turning the guest into the host.'”

Looking at the maiden at the door, he smiled. “What do you think?”

She scoffed. “Few in this world can say such things.”

“Then I speak for my brother, Sun Guan, and Zhao Tianshi.”

Lu Chen chuckled. “Right, Governor Chen?”

Lu Sheng shuddered. A Jade Purity swordsman felt his mind shaken. Chen Ping’an had achieved such heights?

He could hide and see everything, without him noticing? Did the Third Headmaster of Baiyujing know this all along? Was he hiding it?

Lu Chen looked at him awkwardly, guaranteeing, “Heaven and Earth can attest, this has nothing to do with me!”

Was lending the young governor a fourteenth-realm cultivation trapping himself? If the Taoist Sun from the Mysterious Capital Temple found out, he would laugh at him for centuries.

Lu Chen became serious, tapping the table with his chopsticks.

The table rippled like water, an illusion.

He took a breath. “Walk by the river long enough, and you’ll get wet. Terrible, so terrible.”

The maiden smiled, flicking the talisman off her shoulder. The talisman fell to the ground, and she faded away.

At the same time, the “Lu Zu Shrine” began to “fade,” as if tiny cracks appeared, like a painting being restored to its original state.

The three-headed ghost, the mountain rogue, the fight, the possessed shrine deities… all were illusions.

It was as if someone had written a story for Lu Chen.

He smiled bitterly. He had been ambushed.

By the pond outside Fen River Shrine, Qing Tong stood up, trembling. “What did you do before I left?!”

Chen Ping’an remained seated, fishing. He said, “Didn’t I tell you to watch?”

Qing Tong shook his head. “Impossible. Even if you can fool me, how could you fool Lu Chen?!”

He had begun to call the Third Headmaster by his name.

Even if Lu Chen could only use a Tribulation Ascension cultivation here, he was still Lu Chen.

The mountain gods had noticed the dream. Li Yehou had stood on the border of reality and dreams.

Had Chen Ping’an paid respects to the river god and the mountain gods?

Qing Tong thought it was impossible.

Not just Lu Chen, but Lu Sheng, a Jade Purity swordsman, a learned scholar, should have noticed the slightest abnormality.

When Chen Ping’an took him to visit, they had pulled the gods into the dream, but they had not added anything.

But in the “Lu Zu Shrine,” Chen Ping’an had added ghosts, cultivators, and shrine deities, and the soldiers with swords and spears. Most importantly, they needed to speak and act according to their identities. Every action and word needed to fit their character, cultivation, and personality. Every building and landscape needed to be carefully carved.

Chen Ping’an was not just a storyteller, but a master builder, painter, calligrapher, and expert on women’s clothing.

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Do you think what you see in the water is real? Do you think it was just the painting? Look at the Fen River Shrine.”

Qing Tong looked at the shrine and became terrified. The fisherman was gone.

Qing Tong fell to the ground.

The bamboo chair that Chen Ping’an had given him was fake.

Chen Ping’an stood in the shrine, with the children playing with coins. The children and coins were frozen.

Qing Tong was most horrified by a scene that slowly unfolded: the sounds of jade pendants rang out, and two women walked out of the moon gate. The women were dressed and groomed, but they were now frozen. Lu Chen, standing next to a *past Qing Tong*, took Chen Ping’an’s place.

Chen Ping’an spoke in his mind, “Lu Chen.”

Qing Tong heard it and was shocked.

He had asked who they were waiting for, and Chen Ping’an had said “Lu Chen.”

Lu Chen turned and said, “What an expensive dream! It cost a natal sword and a piece of golden body! I feel bad for Governor Chen. It’s hard work! But impressive!”

Lu Chen knelt down and wiped his face. “What a trap!”

Lu Chen said bitterly, “If this gets out, I’ll be too embarrassed to show my face.”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Keep walking by the river and you’ll get wet. You’ll get used to it.”

Lu Chen raised his hand. “No! I don’t want a second time.”

Chen Ping’an had used the place to create a trap for Lu Chen.

Almost nothing in the house was real.

But the ghosts, wild cultivators, and shrine deities were genuine.

The maiden formed from a thousand-year peony had stood at the door to the kitchen, close to Lu Chen. Her words, expressions, and heart were all true.

But it was not true to Lu Chen, which made him careless. Otherwise, with his personality, he would wish for more dreams.

But Qing Tong felt chills.

He had been given the test, the answers, and even the notes, but he still could not understand.

What new tricks had Chen Ping’an learned?!

Lu Chen looked at the man in blue and asked, “Who shielded my divine sense?”

Otherwise, he would not have realized so late.

Chen Ping’an smiled. “The Saintly Master sent me to send you off.”

Lu Chen understood and bowed. “Too kind, Saintly Master is too polite.”

The Lesser Master could not have done this, but the Saintly Master could.

Lu Chen sighed, “You shouldn’t reveal your secret weapon so early. Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell everyone?”

Chen Ping’an said, “This was a rare chance to practice. Where else can I find a fourteenth-realm cultivator?”

Lu Chen waved his hand. “Qing Tong, this way.”

Qing Tong walked into the shrine.

The fighting of the immortals could easily kill others.

Lu Chen smiled. “If it weren’t for the rules of the Temple of Literature, I would have visited the Demon Suppressing Pagoda. No offense, Qing Tong.”

Qing Tong said, “Of course not.”

The children began to play with coins, innocent and carefree.

The women who had come to burn incense entered their carriage, and the driver drove away.

The old woman with the jade scepter returned to the shrine, adding a large amount of money.

The priest nodded to the three by the steps, and the priest and Taoist bowed. The priest said, “It’s a good sign to have visitors so late in the year. The Fen River Shrine will be prosperous next year.”

The priest smiled. “I wish you a smooth journey.”

After the priest entered, Chen Ping’an said, “Cloud Glow Mountain was better than expected. You’re always so skilled.”

Lu Chen said, “Marquis Huangzhong is a good drinking buddy. I’ll have to drink with him again.”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

Lu Chen asked, “What are you planning next? To see the Saintly Master?”

Chen Ping’an said, “Maybe not. I’m going to Yellow Millet Sect. I will not be there for the ceremony but should say hello.”

Lu Chen asked, “Can I join?”

Chen Ping’an said, “Sure.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Lu, would you please end the dream?”

Lu Chen blinked.

Qing Tong was stunned.

Lu Chen stamped his foot.

The Fen River Shrine disappeared.

Qing Tong was numb.

Chen Ping’an said, “That’s enough. A dream is a dream.”

Lu Chen waved his sleeve, and the three were still in the temple.

Chen Ping’an turned to kick him.

Lu Chen jumped away, laughing.

They were in the ruined house, next to the building with the empty coffins.

Lu Chen stood outside and chanted, “Coffin, coffin, rise in rank and get rich.”

The commoners were not afraid of coffins. The wealthy prepared them early. The emperors chose their tombs early.

Chen Ping’an said, “As long as you don’t lie in them.”

Lu Chen ignored him.

Qing Tong was silent.

The old scholar shook his head.

Chen Ping’an bowed. “Master Ni, forgive me.”

Ni Yuanzan said, “You were better. There was no danger, just an unusual journey. I saw a lantern show for free.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Then think of it as too many manners.”

Ni Yuanzan joked, “Then think of it as the strong’s will.”

Lu Chen was sad that the host was not treated so well.

Lu Chen looked around. “Time flies, and history is made.”

A green robe.

Five peaks returned, untouched. A hundred cities embraced, all laws empty.

Lu Chen said, “Chen Ping’an, was our first meeting…” Chen was at a loss for words.

Chen Ping’an said, “Did you want to say, ‘Two young men meet’?”

Lu Chen clapped. “Life’s most cherished place, no dreams in Dragon Province. A green mountain before me, two young men meet.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Good poems don’t rhyme.”

Qing Tong and Lu Sheng exchanged glances. How did you drink with Lu Chen? How did you become Chen Ping’an’s follower?

At dusk, the gate of Yellow Millet Sect.

A long table with paper and ink was set up. It recorded the names and mountains of guests.

Strangers had arrived.

The cultivators of Yellow Millet Sect were not narrow-minded. They knew the visitors from the nearby mountains.

The leader was a young man in green, his expression gentle.

He looked familiar.

He was followed by a woman in a green robe, with a veil over her face.

An old scholar and a young Taoist who seemed easygoing, walking while swinging his sleeves.

The young Taoist hurried forward and gave a gift, two Valley Rain coins, and wrote his name.

Taoist Lu Fu of Autumn Hair View of Divine Edict Sect, and added. *With degree*.

The other three visitors gave two Valley Rain coins and wrote their names.

Qing Tong, guest minister of Immortal Capital Mountain, Tung Leaf Continent. Ni Yuanzan, guest minister of Cloud Grotto, Tung Leaf Continent.

Chen Ping’an, leader of Falling Sparrow Mountain.