In the untamed lands of the Wild Continent, stood the opulent Golden Jade City.

A pavilion, its roof tapering to a graceful point from eight sides, bore the plaque “Crescent Moon.”

*The heavens leak a meager moonlight, the earth’s remoteness breeds a motley wind.*

Within, a scholar in jade-crowned blue robes clenched a fist, the black and white stones of a Go set grinding within. This was Master Zheng, guest of Golden Jade City, and as his thoughts stirred, the pavilion became a stage for wonders, a microcosm of myriad forms, yet not a mote of celestial energy escaped its confines.

First, golden glyphs arose, swirling with the riddles of destiny: *How to speak of first, of second, of the third?*

The words ignited a storm within the pavilion, the flagstones turning to churning seas, their patterns becoming turbulent waters rising in mountainous waves.

*A secret heart-seal of the Buddhist lineage! To grasp its essence? Heaven rends with thunder, the land swells with waves.*

On one flagstone, resembling a miniature continent, the tempest stilled. Under a clear sky, two monks, small as mustard seeds, began a climb. Master and apprentice, they ascended together, the younger’s face solemn. “Master,” he asked, “you teach the path of birds. What then *is* the path of birds?” The elder strode ahead, nimble on the treacherous path, smiling. “Four words,” he said, ” *Not meet one soul*.” They passed carved inscriptions: *Ancestor, Truth, Kin, Wide, Need* – each like a gate they passed without pause. Then, the young monk pressed, “What is our original face?” The elder replied, ” *Not walk bird path.*” Silence. Suddenly, the elder roared, “What is Buddha?” The younger answered softly, “Fire children seek flame.” The elder nodded. “Good words. Fire seeks fire, yet the essence remains unfathomed. Speak more.” The mountain beneath their feet was forged from countless words of the orthodox and apocryphal scriptures. On the precipices, beyond the path, a bird soared, its wings tracing circles around the mountain. The mountain and the bird seemed to freeze simultaneously: a fleeting arrow stands still. The monks saw it, still on their journey, oblivious to the mountain’s turning. The young monk was silent, the elder sighed, *dew collecting under eaves.* The young monk’s mind lit with sudden comprehension, “What is Buddha? Fire children seek flame.” The elder nodded, then stamped the ground. “Conceal thy spoils, lest they tempt thieves.”

Years later, having grasped the meaning of that mountain walk, the scholar Zheng focused his keen mind on the vast ocean of Buddhist scriptures.

Outside the pavilion, Lady Qingjia, the city lord of Golden Jade City, approached. Pausing, she watched the spectacle unfold. Master Zheng had not bothered to conceal the inner world of the pavilion, and she saw the strange figures within. When the scholar turned and looked at her, Qingjia bowed gracefully, smiled, and asked, “Master, what is this work?”

Qingjia, whose Daoist name was “Larkspur Lake,” was a demon cultivator of Immortal Realm, she possessed a magical robe of celestial grade “Water Forged”. These past years in Golden Jade City, she wore the simple dark green robe “Banana Leaf,” with light makeup only when there was a festival.

Master Zheng, the city’s guest whom Qingjia revered, rose and smiled. “A trifle, to pass the time.”

His name was Zheng Gai, a scholar from afar.

Nearly a century had passed since he had taken up residence in the Golden Jade City, secluded and rarely seen. Even Qingjia’s closest disciples knew nothing of him.

Zheng Gai would occasionally depart on journeys without a word to Qingjia, and she never questioned him.

Qingjia spoke earnestly. “Master need not concern himself with such formalities. Rules are for us mortals. With Master’s boundless learning, why…”

The scholar smiled. “When in Rome, one must do as the Romans. Ceremony is not to be cast aside.”

Qingjia praised, “Master’s self-discipline is like the coming of autumn.”

The scholar shook his head. “A few turned pages are not enough to be a master.”

*Master* was a title greater than *student* of old, akin to *Taoist*.

Qingjia, still at the foot of the pavilion steps, asked tentatively, “If Master has no pressing matters, may I join him?”

A pair of warblers and a sylph named Weaver Bird perched on the lady’s shoulders. In private, Qingjia addressed the guest as Master, leaving off the surname.

The Golden Jade City was no longer truly hers.

Strangest of all – and not frightening, but *interesting* – was the truth that unless Qingjia stood within sight of the scholar, her memories of him were locked away, like a room without a key. Only he held it.

Thus, no one in the Wild Continent could know this secret, for not even she truly remembered.

Qingjia found it fascinating, like a young girl harboring a secret.

To hold the Daoist heart of an Immortal Realm cultivator in his palm was a feat few at the peak of Ascension Realm would attempt. But Qingjia was no simpleton. Without powerful ancestors, and unskilled in battle, she had protected the city and its hundreds of women cultivators for years.

The scholar did not dispel the wonders within the pavilion, but smiled. “Of course. The guest shall yield to the host.”

Qingjia bit her lip, her eyes full of a dark and alluring humor. She ascended, lifting her skirts, and entered. The small pavilion stretched into a vast space, and she carefully stepped around the stones pulsing with power, until at last she sat across from the scholar.

One of the most renowned Immortals of the Wild Continent sat as though facing a village schoolmaster.

Qingjia seemed humbled, and mocked, “The conclusions of Master’s idle thoughts are likely beyond our mortal understanding.”

The scholar shook his head. “Friend Larkspur Lake, you do me too much honor. The more one knows, the greater the unknown becomes. The mortal teacher knows what is. The cultivator knows what he does not know.”

Qingjia had no answer.

The scholar sat upright, his smile gentle, but to her eyes he was as high as a god.

For he was Zheng Jizhong of White Emperor City, who dared kill freely on the Mount of Lifting the Moon.

Qingjia hesitated.

As she had said, she had no real business. But seated before Zheng Jizhong, she felt it a waste not to speak.

She ignored the monks ascending their mountain, for she could neither understand nor tread their path. Instead, she changed the subject. “May I ask, Master, what do you find truly *meaningful*?”

Zheng Jizhong smiled. “Many things.”

For instance, within a blessed land of middling rank, Zheng Jizhong once let an aspect of himself begin from nothing. From a weak scholar, he had become, in a mere two decades, the strategist who united an empire. He added two new identities: a martial savage, and a wandering immortal.

The three paths were different, yet all drew toward the same goal.

Zheng Jizhong looked down at the mountain within the pavilion. “Friend Larkspur Lake, it is time to make a plan for the Golden Jade City.”

Relief washed over Qingjia. “I beg for Master’s guidance.”

The Golden Jade City was like Wine Spring Sect in this continent.

Their trade was robe-making and brew-making.

Golden Jade City had once helped the old demon King, Lifting the Moon, to enhance the rank of his dark robe, for which they were protected from the higher realms. The city was a goldmine that the king wanted to eat. Qingjia had stood fast, and the king, perhaps out of fear of something she said, did not start a war.

The city’s robes were high-quality and hard to mass-produce. Last time the humans attacked, Golden Jade City gave a wealth of spirit money as reparations.

None of the city’s cultivators went to the battlefield. But after the battles, Qingjia faced the human cultivators on Mount of Lifting the Moon wearing her “Water Forged” robe.

Zheng Jizhong glanced at her and nodded. “Friend Peach Bower’s advice is correct in general.”

He could read her heart and rifle through her memories as though turning the pages of a book.

Qingjia only asked, “What is Master’s view?”

Golden Jade City had two backers, the demon king, and a demon named Peach Bower.

The demon king was trapped, and Peach Bower was a dog in the human world.

Another demon named New Make, one of the disciples of the Mount of Lifting the Moon’s patriarch, had demanded all the city’s robe-making secrets.

The city had to comply, and the Mount had allowed it to create two branch sects.

This was useless for Qingjia. The city was made of only women, they knew nothing of fighting.

Peach Bower had sent her a letter that said to move while you still can.

He told her to move the city to the human world. He said that he would make sure that she kept her sect status.

To Peach Bower, Qingjia was a girl.

Golden Jade City had two veins, one normal, and one secret. Qingjia’s teacher left a will, saying that the city could call to an ancient great-grandfather.

Qingjia thought this would give them strength, but the moon was moved to a different realm by the humans.

It would be trouble if the ancestor came back, and there was already Zheng Jizhong to help.

The Li Dynasty had hunted for Golden Jade City robes, but failed to capture any master robe-makers.

Qingjia had become an Immortal three hundred years ago, and the demon king and Peach Bower had attended.

The humans and demons were ready to go to war, and the city was at a tipping point.

Qingjia noticed Zheng was not paying attention.

Zheng Jizhong came back and told her, “Change New Make to the human government. Offer less, move to Rising Support Isle, and place the branch sect on Snowy Isle.”

Qingjia seemed fine with this. She asked, “How do we move all the assets? And how do we select cultivators?”

Zheng Jizhong said, “Follow me.”

He explained, “I have changed the entire city into my life treasure. This took some time.”

Zheng Jizhong had been distracted by something completely different.

He had talked about this with Cui Chan.

The humans should pave a road to the heavens to get away from the fight. They could make heavenly stars into outposts, and live on them with others.

But that was not enough, there should be a road “inward”, where all life can live.

Cui Chan made porcelain figures to show him and the masters this.

Zheng Jizhong believed that humans would destroy themselves if they did not escape.

Like gods destroyed by the lives they made.

Every part of ourselves that we deny.

Is a caged beast, a god on a throne.

Most Daoists do not know what their schools are for.

Their hands were too low, they can not reach “that curtain.”

In the pavilion, one considered the city’s life.

One considered the lives of all beings.

That was the difference.

Zheng Jizhong waved, removing the illusions.

Doors at home, education out, cultivation in the mountains.

What do you do to connect people’s hearts?

Zheng Jizhong stood. “We are lights, flickering in the world.”

Actions are the tenons, hearts are the lights.

Build houses, get warm.

Zheng Jizhong took Qingjia to Golden Jade City.

Qingjia could not cast spells, and disappeared. A woman in the palace was knocking the ice with a stick, making jade sounds.

Zheng Jizhong took Qingjia to the river, where children played on the ice.

Zheng Jizhong walked to the dam, made from stones sealed with rice paste.

Zheng Jizhong wondered how Qi Jingchun did it, and what he saw.

Things were interesting if he could not do them. The size of the matter did not change the quality.

The youth Cui Chan was not allowed to read martial novels or play Go, because his elders thought it was a waste of time.

Qingjia smiled at Zheng Jizhong, and asked, “What do you think about love? Have you ever had a lover?”

Zheng Jizhong shook his head.

Qingjia had never had a partner, she did not think she needed one, but she had a disciple who had been struck by the beauty of a visiting swordsman.

Zheng Jizhong said, “One who loves desire holds a torch to the wind, and will get burned.”

Qingjia did not ask more.

Zheng Jizhong walked slowly, he met Wu Shuangjiang at Ink Trace Ford.

The cities were famous for their control.

Zheng Jizhong said, “You came too early.”

Wu Shuangjiang said, “Broken pot, don’t look back.”

Cui Chan was starting to make his move. Zheng Jizhong had agreed to help.

Wu Shuangjiang watched the moon being dragged away and asked, “No fight?”

Zheng Jizhong said, “Chen Pingan is not cruel enough.”

Chen Pingan made a choice.

Lu Chen almost died to a dead man.

————

In Blue Sky, the highest mountain was Leap Month Peak.

Lin Jiangxian was gone, leaving Qi Gu alone with Wang Yuanlu and Golden Well.

Qi Gu gave Wang Yuanlu a small model palace and said, “Golden Well, this is Wang Yuanlu’s. As long as he is fine with it, you can practice and make pills in there.”

Wang Yuanlu did not want an initiation, and he grabbed the “remnants of the Immortal Palace”.

Golden Well did not complain, because they all had their own lives.

Qi Gu told Golden Well to teach Wang Yuanlu the secrets of pill-making.

Wang Yuanlu asked, “Golden Well, what is the palace?”

Golden Well rolled his eyes and asked, “Heard of something?”

After waiting for a long time, Wang Yuanlu was confused.

Golden Well said, “Dragon swims in the green water, fire helps the sun palace. Get it?”

Wang Yuanlu shook his head.

Golden Well laughed and said, “Frog in a well!”

Wang Yuanlu smiled, they would see who was the frog.

Golden Well said, “It is said that one of the five supremes…”

Golden Well stopped and pointed at the sky, “The green water is where the Water God rested. The Sun Palace is where swords were forged. Others say it broke, but Master has it. It is very, very good, top five of Master’s possessions. So rejoice.”

Wang Yuanlu said, “Golden Well knows so much.”

Golden Well looked at the fire and said, “Worthless.”

Wang Yuanlu said, “Better than nothing.”

Golden Well was angry. But when he turned, Wang Yuanlu looked sincere and sad.

In Blue Sky, at Sweet State, in the Hall of Gazing High, four people drank wine.

They were reading a book written by the lord about Rainbow Heaven.

There, they could see Stork Tower and Leaning Pillar.

They were all from Stork Inn, a famous place hidden in the Reverse Mountain that had been around for three hundred years. One ascender, two immortals, and two jade fragments. Besides the young owner, the innkeeper, cook, and worker were named Year, and traveled with their Yin Spirits. The girl “Year on the Window” was Lord Wu Shuangjiang’s daughter.

The owner, the Lord called him “White” Luo. He handled all the official affairs.

Besides him, the others were here.

Zhang Yuanbo was a drunken white-haired old man. He gave the book to the lovers who were flirting.

He would drink all day.

First, he drank, closed his eyes in pleasure, then shivered.

His domain had been on Leaning Pillar, but he gave it to a swordsman.

Shang Junyu took the book carefully.

Three thousand Taoists from Blue Heaven had gone to Rainbow Heaven. Supposedly, White Jade Capital only had a thousand.

However, many people in White Jade Capital were making branches everywhere, and likely took up about half the spots.

Her partner, Xie Chuntiao, was a robust woman who loved alcohol and smutty jokes.

She wore a jade hairpin.

Her partner liked to touch her, he was a horndog.

She let him do what he wanted.

Zhang Yuanbo frowned and said, “Why did this top ten list come out now? This is early.”

Yu Chou said, “Why bother, I am not on the list.”

Xie Chuntiao said, “The key is that the Scepter Sect said they did not make the list. That’s scary.”

“Year on the Window” Wu Hui was Wu Shuangjiang’s daughter.

She and her father had traveled out of body and crossed two worlds. Their bodies were in the Palace.

Wu Shuangjiang had protected them with magic, or they could not have stayed there so long and still practice.

The girl wore a tiny drum. It seemed that it was a great weapon. Every year on New Years’ Eve, she would light the candle and beat the drum to drive away evil.

Wu Hui was “Year on the Window.”

It was because she and her father had stayed up once.

Wu Shuangjiang liked to read random things. Wu Hui had heard a saying from a book.

*The person inside writes on the paper, I see from the outside.*

Maybe from a book, maybe a feeling.

Wu Hui said, “I will ask Father?”

Yu Chou shook his head. “Wu Hui, stop, don’t get us in trouble.”

The top ten changed little.

The first three were, no doubt, White Jade Capital: Kou Ming, Yu Dou, and Lu Chen.

Four was the Old Immortal of Hua Yang Palace: Gao Gu.

Five was Sun Huaizhong. Six was Lin Jiangxian, the only warrior.

The others were famous.

Wu Shuangjiang, Chao Ge, and Wu Zhou had been in seclusion.

The ten list was…

Strange, with hidden agendas… and murder!

At the top was Yu Dou.

Second was Lu Chen.

Third was the Lord of Blue Sky Cave.

Four was the Daoist Wu Zhou.

Five was Sun Huaizhong.

Six was Lin Jiangxian.

Seven was Wu Shuangjiang.

Eight was Gao Gu. The best pill-maker.

Nine was Yao Qing.

Ten was Wang Sun and Xin Ku.

And ten more. But they were not very interesting.

First, Kou Ming was not on the list!

It was as if heaven had fallen.

Second, Wu Zhou appeared again. But she was still only pushing Gao Gu away. So was Sun Huaizhong stuck in fifth forever? Did he break through? Was he an Immortal Swordsman?!

The list had added Wang Sun, and who did not know the problems of White Jade Capital and Jade Capital?

Xie Chuntiao was about to return the book, but Wu Hui shook her head. “You can keep it.”

Zhang Yuanbo remembered something and asked, “Did Lady Gui knew this was going to happen? Did she see something?”

Yu Chou laughed at the beauty that was Lady Gui. He was elbowed by his wife.

Xie Chuntiao said, “I can’t believe the boy became a swordsman and wrote on the wall.”

The boy had clear eyes.

That boy was now a customer of the inn.

Zhang Yuanbo smiled and said, “I think Dong Talisman is good too.”

Wu Hui pretended she did not hear.

Dong Talisman and Yan Zhuo had seen the palace. They met the “little girl” Wu Hui.

But they met the ancestor.

Wu Hui could not yell with the Black Charcoal.

She lost the fight.

They set up a time.

She thought they were too weak and did not take them seriously.

But Wu Hui did not know that Dong Talisman had arranged the fight.

At Leaning Pillar, Wu Shuangjiang was there.

Wu Shuangjiang and Nalan Shaowei talked about cultivation. Only Cheng Quan was left.

He joined the Palace and did not become an official. He carried Nalan Shaowei’s lamp.

Wu Shuangjiang was constricting the Leaning Pillar.

The Lord was extravagant.

The Lord’s partner liked to collect treasures, so the Lord helped her.

Cheng Quan asked, “Do you have scrolls?”

Wu Shuangjiang stopped, a crazy woman laughed, the gray arm fell, and she patted her head.

She told the swordsman to kill her, but to get the leader and destroy Mount of Lifting the Moon…

A golden lightning bolt struck her.

The drawing was cut off, Cheng Quan was confused.

Cheng Quan knew she was Yao Fanlu.

It seemed that she had kept some of her soul. That was the worst form of possession. Yao paid more attention to the “real body.”

Many abilities were connected to the body. So Yao dropped in level more.

It was a lost cause to light a lamp in the ancestral hall.

It was a change of power.

Cheng Quan was happy.

To be killed on that mountain, was like Daoists and Confucians dying.

Painful.

The swordsman was still merciful!

Wu Shuangjiang smiled, “She was humiliated. She should have died properly. It was strange because the leader sided with Chen Pingan and killed them.”

Cheng Quan said, “Them? Not just her?”

Wu Shuangjiang nodded, “Many.”

The old swordsman laughed, “I did not yell back at the swordsman.”

Wu Shuangjiang smiled.

The old swordsman was filled with emotion.

He never let him down.

Wu Shuangjiang asked, “Cheng Quan, who do you hate most?”

Cheng Quan was silent.

He hated a lot of Yao, could he count them?

He hated himself the most.

He hated his sword skill. He was too cowardly to say what he felt.

Some things do not wait.

Some people do not wait.

Cheng Quan was sad.

Wu Shuangjiang said, “Do you remember Hui Ting of the Red Leaf Sword Sect?”

Cheng Quan looked sharp.

He had agreed to cut Hui Ting to pieces. But she broke her weapon and did not show up for the last battle.

Wu Shuangjiang said, “Another scroll.”

Chen Pingan had agreed to kill the swordsman to trade for a way out for Yao.

The light fell and cut her in half. Then another sword came and bisected her.

Then he put her in a thunder array.

Her name appeared in the rune.

A horrifying murder.

The swordsmen had seen a lot of horrible things.

However, this was bad because Chen Pingan did it.

But Cheng Quan was the exception.

He did not think it was wrong.

Wu Shuangjiang closed the magic, the drawing disappeared.

Wu Shuangjiang went to Stork Tower.

Cheng Quan walked by the river. He said it was the work of a swordsman.

On the walls, he had yelled with the swordsman.

The old man laughed then cried.

By accident.

In the Stork Tower.

Wu Shuangjiang went up to the top floor, the door opened.

The Palace was only second-rate until Wu Shuangjiang brought it to the top.

He was a great leader.

He always meant what he said.

Besides Bai Luo, there was Gao Ping.

There was a Daoist named Huan Jing.

There was also an old man, Chang You.

The last was a ghost immortal, who had been secluded for years and was getting out.

Wu Shuangjiang sat and said, “Be easy.”

Outside, the clouds and waters flowed, the world and you feel pain.

Inside, the heroes are here.

Some people were only in books.

Then some people came out.

This book was named the Military Temple.

————

In Poplar Leaf Continent, at the Demon Suppressing Tower.

The mountain and river gods’ prayers faded.

The Mountain Prayer and Water Prayer came from the Old Teacher and the Pure Daoist Lu Yan.

“You have decided about the powers your brothers left you, but…”

The Great Teacher said, “If powers are used selfishly, you won’t get anything. Don’t think too hard.”

Chen Pingan nodded.

Chen Pingan took out “Small Capital”. “Help me remove the restriction.”

The Great Teacher was not surprised that the boy with unbroken heart was smart.

But the Great Teacher asked, “A Daoist without a Daoist name is no good.”

Chen Pingan said he had too many names to choose from.

The Great Teacher asked, “Do you have a disguise for when you go to Blue Sky?”

Chen Pingan shook his head.

Chen Good Man, Cao Mo, Dou Yi. And he had one for Blue Sky!

The Great Teacher said, “It’s good that you know it. Don’t tell me, lest you leak the secrets.”

The Great Teacher took the sword and tossed it out.

Lights fell from the sky, on the ground, like fireflies and stars. Wandering souls with single lamps walked, other souls with multiple lamps walked. The ruins and wilds were filled with those who had no burial. Battlefields with broken flags were filled with souls who were still trying to protect their lands, clad in ruined armor, a small stream becomes a river, and a small spark turns into a wildfire. The lights came together then separated. The lights on the water were crossing rivers, and when they looked back, the lights in the towns were few. There were reunions on the roads. And the lights on the lands of the dead were ascending. Husbands and wives would not part. Parents held their children’s hands and said, “Don’t be afraid, Mom and Dad are here.”

The Great Teacher turned.

He saw the boy looking on with tears in his eyes, his face trembling.

The Great Teacher waited for him to calm down.

The boy turned and thanked the Great Teacher.

The old man bowed.

It was almost New Years.

Chen Pingan was on the peak.

There was once an Earthly Court that had a Spring Drum that would herald the New Year.

Chen Pingan stood, staring.

Chen Pingan began to beat the drum.

He beat the drum, calling for a new world.