（Forgive the tardiness of this update, dear readers.)

Snow, like a white robe; robe, like the driven snow. It was easy to mistake the form for a creature of the blizzard itself.

Qin Buyi frowned. There was a familiarity about this man, a ghost of remembrance tugging at her. Yet, she dredged her mind’s depths, searching the lake of her memories, but no name or face surfaced to match.

Cui Dongshan flashed a disarming, toothy grin at Qin Buyi, then lowered his voice, earnestly beseeching the venerable Song, “Elder, if you would be so kind as to step aside? This duel upon the mountain’s crest requires ample room for two at the pinnacle of martial arts to exchange blows.” With that, he shepherded Wang Manmeng and the others away from the city gate. Cui Dongshan sought a high-gabled rooftop as a vantage point. Alas, tonight’s wind-whipped snowstorm, a tempest of six-petaled flakes, greatly hindered their vision. The money-grubbing monkeys were too low in cultivation to truly witness the dance of fists. Even the earlier discourse between the Master and Han Wanzhan was subtly obscured by Cui Dongshan’s craft, leaving Wang Manmeng none the wiser. When the true identities of the combatants became known, they would surely rue their ignorance.

The two warriors faced each other across the snow-laden street, neither rushing to strike.

Han Guanghu merely adjusted his boot. As it settled once more, the street, cloaked in a foot of snow, seemed scalded by boiling water. Mist billowed forth. When the old warrior stood steady, a path of parched earth unfurled, the snow melting before it could reach the ground, a dryad’s spine etched across the city. Only around Chen Ping’an’s feet did the snow remain undisturbed.

Song Yushao, following Cui Dongshan from the street, glanced back at the strange phenomenon. The old man chuckled. “Who says we martial artists are not akin to immortals?”

Cui Dongshan knew well why the Master had accepted the challenge. It was not merely to chide Han Wanzhan for his underhanded dealings. There was a touch of personal consideration as well.

He sought to ease Elder Song’s mind.

And how might that be?

Simple. The old man needed only witness the current state of the fist of the boy who once carried a sword, to find true peace.

Song Yushao hesitated, focusing his voice into a thin line of sound, asking the white-robed youth, “Sect Master Cui, can your Master prevail?”

He had heard Chen Ping’an mention his students and disciples while sharing hotpot. Cui Dongshan was now the inaugural Sect Master of the Azure Reed Sword Sect.

The old man had always been forthright and unreserved when alone with Chen Ping’an, calling him by his name. But with Cui Dongshan, Song Yushao adopted a more formal address.

A junior who excelled in his studies, capable of writing couplets, reciting sage wisdom, or achieving scholarly success, would undoubtedly bring joy. But it would not necessarily allay a guardian’s deeper worries. The tides of court were treacherous, the path to advancement fraught with peril, the cultivation of officialdom a mire of deceit. The same held true for the ways of the *jianghu*. Hearts were fickle, and strength of fist often held no correlation to virtue. Moreover, the more steadfast a young man was in his adherence to the *jianghu* code, the more vulnerable he became. Song Yushao was an old hand in the *jianghu*, but he was no fool. Thus, he viewed Chen Ping’an’s path with a heavy heart. He yearned for Chen Ping’an to walk a straight path, to rise high and prosper. Yet, he also dreaded the possibility of the youth being wounded for his adherence to honor and principle.

Perhaps such conflicting emotions were the burden of those who nurtured the young.

“Elder Song, you may call me Dongshan.”

Even Cui Dongshan, brazen enough to bandy words with Han Wanzhan—not with veiled malice, but with open defiance—would never dare to be flippant with Song Yushao.

“The Master will not lose. Even against Cao Ci, he seemingly lost four matches. But the Master has his own reasons. The losses were superficial, the true victory lies within. Such a mindset is not for outsiders to understand. Cao Ci knows it, and Elder Song surely suspects it.”

Song Yushao said, “I worry that in this sudden bout, your Master must not only achieve a convincing victory but also temper his strength and control the heat of the battle. It is a most demanding task, and places him at a disadvantage.”

The ignorant see only the spectacle, while the knowledgeable understand the intricacies. Song Yushao’s martial realm was not high, but he had spent his life navigating the *jianghu*, dealing with all manner of folk. He was well-versed in the subtleties of human nature and thus understood the complexities involved.

Cui Dongshan lowered his head, rubbing his hands together with a sly grin. “Fear not, Elder Song! Did you know, upon Immortal Capital Mountain’s Exile Peak, the Master once sparred with Huang Yi of the Cloud Teaching of T’ong Leaf Continent? In the midst of the exchange, she broke through a bottleneck in the tenth realm, thanks to the Master’s precise control of force. Not only was harmony preserved, but the P’u Mountain Cloud Grass Hall has now formally allied with the Azure Reed Sword Sect. In a century or two, their disciples will intermingle, and they will be considered ‘family friends,’ wouldn’t you say?”

Years ago, in Combing Creek Country, Song Yushao had washed his hands of the *jianghu*. But Su Lang, the Azure Bamboo Sword Immortal who had risen to fame in Pine Creek Country, had disregarded the *jianghu* code. He had insisted on challenging Song Yushao. Fresh from attaining the Golden Body Realm, he had eagerly visited Swordwater Manor, intent on using the Shaved Creek Country Sword Saint as a stepping stone to cement his position as the foremost swordsman in the central regions of Treasure Bottle Continent. However, he had been rebuffed by a genuine young “Sword Immortal,” who had sent Su Lang reeling back to his small town in a single move. Later, Chen Ping’an, in pursuit of the bamboo-yellow scabbard, had confronted Ma Qiu Xian amidst the Confucian Temple debate and fought. He had even risked offending the goddess Pei Bei’s lineage and the Great End Dynasty of the Central Earth Continent. Alas, the old man had not witnessed Chen Ping’an’s two encounters.

The old man trusted his judgment. When he first met the sword-bearing boy in his hometown, he had known that Chen Ping’an’s martial path would be swift and unwavering.

But Song Yushao had never imagined that this day would come so soon, so early, so… assertively.

In the street, Chen Ping’an scanned the desolate city, its audience sparse.

Back in the Sword Qi Great Wall, when the Second Manager sparred, the atmosphere had always been lively.

Han Guanghu reminded him, “I stand by my word. Hold nothing back. Otherwise, this duel will be a double insult, striking both person and pride.”

Chen Ping’an smiled faintly. “The sooner this is done, the sooner I can treat you to a drink, Elder.”

Han Guanghu gave a wry chuckle. The young man certainly knew how to pay lip service.

Qin Buyi and her companions took to the wind, ascending to the city walls. Jian Ming drew his Great Spring Dynasty’s state-protecting dharma blade, “Name Spring,” wiping snow from the wall. He bared his teeth. “No grudges, no chance encounter. They’ve just met, and now they fight?”

Were all martial artists of a certain level battle-obsessed lunatics who delighted in throwing fists upon meeting?

Jian Ming could not help but worry. Would Old Han be alright? They said that fists fear the young and strong, and random blows could fell a master. Moreover, Old Han had fallen from his peak and bore an affliction. He coughed daily, carrying with him elixirs from the mountains that offered only temporary relief. Had the Teacher not warned Jian Ming against recklessness, Jian Ming would have pilfered “Ascension Pills” from Qingjing Mountain’s Azure Tiger Palace. The young Hidden Official, on the other hand, was at the peak of his powers. His realm, physique, and momentum were at their zenith. He had also seen great battles. How could Old Han hope to win?

Song Zhi said, “No need to worry. Neither is seeking to kill. This will be a gentle exchange. Such an encounter is a rare opportunity. A martial arts master’s exchange is unlike a cultivator’s duel. The latter struggles to find and fix flaws. But a martial artist’s sparring, as long as it isn’t vicious or meant to end in death, can be of great benefit in the long run, even if it results in injury.”

How many martial artists at the pinnacle existed within a continent? The Desolate Continent, bereft of martial luck, had only Pei A’xiang of Thunder God Temple. If Pei A’xiang sought to spar, he would have to journey across continents. He would never go to the Northern Reed Continent, for it held Wang Fu-shuo, a foul-mouthed old rogue. The foremost martial artist of Flowing Haze Continent was a woman. Moreover, Pei A’xiang was not one for travel, preferring tranquility. Thus, having attained the tenth realm, he had rarely engaged in combat, hindering his progress toward attaining the Returning to Truth level.

The Teacher smiled. “It is because neither harbors murderous intent. The perceived killing intent emanates from the sheer density of their fist auras. To the untrained eye, it is mistaken for malice.”

There was no doubt that neither sought to kill. Both Han Wanzhan of Golden Armor Continent and the young Hidden Official of Bìshǔ Palace could, in a broad sense, be considered comrades. Perhaps each held a secret admiration for the other. But Old Han was too reserved to voice it. If not for the barbarian hordes being delayed at the Sword Qi Great Wall for many years—for at least two or three years longer than predicted—the Central Earth Confucian Temple and the Golden Armor Continent would not have had time to prepare. Without that extra time, the casualties on Golden Armor Continent would have been far greater, with millions more deaths.

Still, a duel between warriors at the pinnacle was no child’s play. If either sought a clear victory, anything could happen.

Furthermore, Old Han held some trump cards up his sleeve.

Qin Buyi patiently explained, “Jian Ming, martial artists hone their bodies through constant sparring. It is akin to using another mountain’s stone to polish one’s own jade. The human body is a microcosm, the muscles and bones like mountains and dragon veins, the blood and Qi like great rivers. A good exchange is like moving mountains and shifting water, destroying to rebuild, opening new paths, allowing pure Qi to flow more freely. In the annals of Haoran, there were said to be masters of martial arts so profound that, beyond their own skills, they could teach and nurture others, not only moving mountains and seas but even healing injuries. But those are mere legends.”

The Teacher said, “I have had the good fortune of meeting two such figures: Zhang Tiao-xia of the Central Earth Continent, and Cui Cheng of Treasure Bottle Continent.”

Jian Ming asked curiously, “I have certainly heard of Zhang Tiao-xia, the foremost martial artist before Pei Bei. But who is this Cui Cheng? Why is he unknown, despite being a native of Treasure Bottle Continent?”

The Teacher said, “Martial artists of the lower realms, unlike the cultivators of the upper realms, have limited lifespans. ‘Road to Nowhere’ is not a phrase coined by cultivators to disparage martial artists. After a century, people and their deeds become mere anecdotes of the past. He always considered himself a scholar. Later, he experienced a family tragedy, and his name was removed from the family records. It is not surprising that the younger generation of Treasure Bottle Continent has not heard of him.”

Qin Buyi exclaimed, “My Senior Brother Zhang once encountered a wandering scholar from the Central Earth Continent. The old man seemed lost and disoriented, claiming his name was Cui. He refused to reveal his true identity and was occasionally lucid, occasionally mad, as though afflicted by demonic possession. It was a chance encounter. Because they found each other agreeable, my Senior Brother did not press the matter. He personally escorted the man for a stretch, through mountains and waters. Whenever the man was lucid, his speech was profound and his knowledge vast. One saying, in particular, remains etched in my Senior Brother’s mind: ‘A man of stature must be true in speech, sincere in dealing, upright in character, rigorous in scholarship, and principled in his punches.'”

The Teacher nodded with a smile. “All that Cui Cheng sought was to act with principle.”

Qin Buyi glanced at the man in the green cotton robe. Could his plight be the work of you Knife-Borrowers?

The three lineages of the Innocence Seekers had varying degrees of influence in the Eight Continents of Haoran. Only in Treasure Bottle Continent, due to the West Mountain Sword Hermits having met with hardship, did they all retreat, rapidly. Her Senior Brother, it was said, had managed to escape Treasure Bottle Continent with his direct disciples only because someone had taken pity on him and made an exception.

The Teacher said in a hushed tone, “I wouldn’t dare borrow a knife from Cui Cheng. That would be tempting death. I would never leave Treasure Bottle Continent.”

The two groups of onlookers, Qin Buyi and her companions on the city walls, Cui Dongshan and his group on a high rooftop.

As the two warriors in the street prepared to fight, Chen Ping’an suddenly looked up at the city walls and waved.

Han Guanghu was puzzled. To strike, or not to strike? He could not turn to look, lest Chen Ping’an seize the opportunity. He was not to be caught off guard so easily.

Chen Ping’an’s reputation as a formidable duelist had spread among the warriors at the pinnacle.

Cui Dongshan sighed softly. He followed the Master’s gaze and saw a tall woman standing silently on the city wall, smiling.

As long as she did not wish to be known, even Cui Dongshan, who thought nothing of defeating two Immortals with one hand, would be none the wiser.

She was as devoted as ever to their Master.

But how had she returned to the mortal realm from beyond the heavens?

Song Yushao also noticed the woman and asked, “Who is she?”

Cui Dongshan carefully replied, “A sword attendant, perhaps?”

Song Yushao chuckled. “As long as it isn’t ‘that’ kind of relationship.”

Cui Dongshan seemed to shrink into a quail, afraid to speak.

Qin Buyi instinctively gripped her sword hilt, as if facing a great enemy. Unlike the grand entrance of Grand Sword Immortal Mi Yu, this woman seemed to be… the very fabric of the world.

Song Zhi turned, wanting to protect everyone, but found herself mired in mud, unable to lift her feet.

In an instant, the Luo Yang Wood Wanderer felt her Dao Heart freeze, her spiritual Qi turn to ice. Her eclectic mix of skills and spells seemed to have been temporarily returned to the heavens.

The Teacher remained in his stance, gazing at the street, still and unmoving.

The woman drifted from the city wall to the street, brushing past Han Guanghu. The old man was about to strike.

It was not a test of skill, nor was it reckless. For some reason, the old man felt a strange premonition. If he did not strike, he would regret it for life. It would be impossible to return to the Returning to Truth realm. Furthermore, the old warrior felt a sense of cosmic pressure. A fated nemesis was before him, demanding that he unleash his fist for all the world’s martial artists!

Chen Ping’an subtly shook his head, then smiled and asked, “Why are you here?”

She laughed. “I was bored of waiting.”

As soon as they spoke, the snow-filled world seemed to return to normal.

She slowed as she passed Han Guanghu, looking at the old warrior.

She did not speak, but Han Guanghu heard her cool, slightly mocking voice in his mind.

“You have some skill, recognizing the broken edict at the pinnacle of martial arts at such a young age. But you are limited by your mediocre talent and lifespan. You are destined to fail. Mortals can never see the true god.”

“You… are…”

“Say a complete sentence, and I’ll tell you.”

Han Guanghu could not speak another word.

Chen Ping’an smiled and introduced her. “Elder Han, this is a senior member of my family.”

She turned, walking backward, stopping beside Chen Ping’an and staring at the old warrior. She smiled gently and corrected him. “Wrong, wrong. This is my master.”

She laughed. “Lu Chen is difficult to kill, but with enough resolve, it’s not impossible.”

Throughout millennia, there were several hidden “watersheds” in the long river of time. To her, they were simply crossings.

Those capable of appearing at these ancient crossings were few. Those who could stop the sword light were even fewer.

She did not wish to exploit her advantage, to bully Lu Chen or Yu Dou. Besides, such actions would have far-reaching consequences. The river of time could split into tributaries. The future would become uncertain. There was no need. Qi Jing-chun had twice traveled upriver. Once, as a bystander, he had witnessed the battle where “Confucian officials in green robes joined hands to slay the extraterrestrial demon” in the “Continental Submergence”. Once, in the present, in the Lotus Grotto Heavenly Domain, Qi Jing-chun had engaged in a unique dialogue with the Dao Ancestor two centuries prior.

Chen Ping’an shook his head.

She nodded.

Indeed, sixty years, or even three to five centuries, were negligible to her.

She could wait patiently in the heavens.

As a sword-wielder, she had once cleaved three centuries from time itself, causing a break in the river of time when the Dao was still in its prime.

The five Supremes of the ancient Heavenly Court, save for one, had each followed their own path, resulting in the cataclysmic conflict between water and fire.

She smiled. “Young man, speak to my master with more respect.”

Han Guanghu was awkward, silent and unyielding.

He could not win. But he could retain his dignity.

She stretched. “I’m going back. Master, remember to ascend to the outer heavens soon. The matter of forging the sword cannot be delayed any longer.”

Before Chen Ping’an could respond, time flowed backward. Everyone save the two in the street, Cui Dongshan, and the Teacher were unaffected and had no memory of the woman.

She had returned to the heavens, leaving without a trace.

Chen Ping’an said awkwardly, “Elder Han, shall we continue?”

Han Guanghu shook his sleeves. “Continue with what?”

To be called “young man” by a woman, and to be unable to retort! He had never felt so stifled. How could he fight against her master? In short time, Chen Ping’an saw that Han Guanghu had become dazed and gave a thumbs up. “I misunderstood you. When we both return to Returning to Truth, we shall spar properly. Tonight, we drink! Chen Mountain Lord, you are paying!”

Cui Dongshan stood. He would not be able to use the golden sentences he had for Han Wanzhan.

Song Yushao frowned. “What happened?”

Cui Dongshan fabricated a tale that not even he believed. “Han Wanzhan and my Master engaged in a mental battle. Old Han conceded.”

Song Yushao smiled, unconvinced, and didn’t pursue it.

Cui Dongshan led them to Wang Manmeng’s residence and had the money monkeys set up tables and prepare food.

Jian Ming asked, “Old Han, why did you stop fighting?”

The old man said, “I checked the almanac. Today is not auspicious for sparring, only for eating and drinking.”

Jian Ming asked, “What about tomorrow?”

The old man glared. “Check the almanac yourself!”

Jian Ming stopped joking. It was good that they weren’t fighting. Old Han was too old to spar. An old warrior could lose a lifetime of reputation in a single defeat.

Qin Buyi was preoccupied. Song Zhi was puzzled. Only the Teacher smiled as usual.

Cui Dongshan clapped his hands. “In this snow-covered world, we are all heroes. We are friends! Eat meat, drink wine!”

Han Guanghu said nothing and drank a bowl of wine.

Chen Ping’an raised his bowl, and drank to everyone’s health.

Jian Ming asked, “Chen Ping’an, were there as many Sword Immortals in the Sword Qi Great Wall as they say?”

“Jian Ming, do not address Mountain Lord Chen by his name.”

The Teacher reminded his disciple and asked Chen Ping’an, “Do you have a formal name, style name, or Daoist name?”

Chen Ping’an smiled and shook his head. “I have none. Only a few aliases for traveling the *jianghu*. There’s no need to mention them. You may call me by my name.”

In his hometown, it had been difficult to hear his name spoken.

In the Sword Qi Great Wall, a foreign land that he had gradually come to consider home, he had often heard his name spoken at the wine shop.

The customers and shills usually called him by his name, or teased him as the Second Manager.

Cui Dongshan said solemnly, “The number of Sword Cultivators above the fifth realm in the Sword Qi Great Wall isn’t as exaggerated as people say. But if we follow the rules of the Haoran Continent and count Golden Core and nascent soul cultivators as Sword Immortals, then there are quite a few. If we treat the Sword Qi Great Wall as a sword sect that has stood for ten thousand years, and hang the portraits of every Sword Cultivator in the ancestral hall, the hall would have to be vast indeed.”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

Cui Dongshan was not exaggerating.

Jian Ming said, “I must visit Ascension City of the Colorful Sky one day.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Cultivate diligently. You will have the opportunity.”

Jian Ming said, “If I remember correctly, we are about the same age. Why do you speak like one of my elders?”

Chen Ping’an joked, “It seems my habit of acting as a teacher is not good. I must correct it.”

Jian Ming grinned. “I heard you are close to the Great Spring Empress.”

During his infiltration of Mirage City, Zeng Ye had been unable to see the alluring empress.

Chen Ping’an said, “Pay no attention to such rumors.”

Cui Dongshan agreed emphatically. “Only a fool would believe them.”

Qin Buyi asked directly, “Have you heard of the West Mountain Sword Hermit branch of the Innocence Seekers?”

Chen Ping’an said, “I am ashamed to say that I have not heard of them until my student mentioned them.”

Qin Buyi found it hard to believe that this gentle man had beaten Cao Ci bloody in the Confucian Temple.

Chen Ping’an of Treasure Bottle Continent had been unknown. The last Hidden Official of the Sword Qi Great Wall was famous.

The relationship between Fallen Phoenix Mountain and Chen Ping’an with the Dali Dynasty had been a puzzle.

Qin Buyi said frankly, “My Senior Brother Liu Taozhi, an Immortal Realm Sword Cultivator like me and Song Zhi, wishes for you to serve as the chief guest elder of the West Mountain Sword Hermit branch. If you are willing to serve as the supreme guest elder of the main branch, that would be even better. I will do my best to make it happen.”

“The three branches of the Innocence Seekers are composed of unaffiliated cultivators, generals, and swordsmen. They are spread across Haoran’s nine continents and even have agents in other worlds.”

The Teacher looked at the snow outside and smiled. “Righting wrongs.”

Cui Dongshan had waited long to chime in. “How fitting.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Do you know who took the head of the previous Emperor of the Yu Dynasty?”

Qin Buyi said, “My Junior Sister did it.”

Cui Dongshan raised his arm, wanting to slam it on the table. Were they finished? Han Wanzhan was trying to poach his senior, and Qin Buyi was trying to poach his master?! Realizing the Master’s gaze, Cui Dongshan gently wiped the table. “Immortal Qin, don’t bother. My Master will not agree. He has more important matters to attend to.”

Qin Buyi said, “You may consider it. My Senior Brother and I will wait for your answer.”

Cui Dongshan changed the subject. “Daoist Song Zhi, are you familiar with Zhang Zhi?”

Song Zhi shook his head. “I am not familiar. He left the mountain early. I only saw him briefly in the mountains. My memory of him is faint.”

“How are the generations in your ancestral hall counted?”

“He calls me Senior Uncle.”

Cui Dongshan nodded. “From the same village, related by blood. The poor have a high generation.”

Song Zhi nodded. “That’s about right.”

“Daoist Song Zhi, are you planning to leave the mountain?”

Song Zhi said, “Before our Old Ancestor entered seclusion, he changed his mind and told us that it would be inappropriate to remain on the mountain. He told us to find three locations. The one in the Central Earth Continent has been chosen. The other two are undecided. I am responsible for finding suitable locations in Treasure Bottle and Tong Leaf Continents. The Old Dragon City near the great river in central Treasure Bottle Continent is a good choice. In Tong Leaf Continent, the Peach Leaf Ford outside Mirage City, the Southern Driving Mountain Ford, and Qingjing Mountain are all candidates. Six other groups of Luo Yang Wood Wanderers are touring the other six continents. This is an internal competition. Whoever wins can establish a branch.”

Cui Dongshan asked, “Who persuaded your Old Ancestor? Zhang Zhi, the traitor? Has he grown so bold because he is now wealthy?”

Song Zhi shook his head. “Zhang Zhi dared not return to the mountain. It was Fan Zi-mao’s suggestion.”

Cui Dongshan was not surprised.

The Merchant Old Ancestor had a bright future.

The cultivators of the world had yet to realize that, with the lifting of the ban by the Sage of Rituals during the Confucian Temple debate, the Dao paths of the ancestors of the Hundred Schools of Thought could rise without fear.

Cui Dongshan asked, “What do you think of our Azure Robe Ford?”

Song Zhi said bluntly, “I think nothing of it.”

He had seen Immortal Capital Mountain from afar. It was too small and too weak. Besides, the Azure Reed Sword Sect did not seem like it wanted a bustling sect. Sword Sects were like that. Besides, who would want to be near Sword Cultivators? They were the most difficult group of cultivators to deal with. It was always better to have clean business transactions. The last thing one wanted was to encounter a rogue.

Cui Dongshan waved his hands. “You must have a broad vision. That is the attitude one should have when doing business.”

Song Zhi said, “Even if you said it perfectly, I would not choose the Azure Robe Ford. We have rules. The other two locations cannot be near top-tier celestial abodes, especially sword sects.”

Cui Dongshan said, “In Tong Leaf Continent, there is an old, talented, and simple-minded celestial abode called Spirit Jade Mountain. It isn’t a top-tier sect. There is a celestial ford called Wild Cloud Ford near its door. Is it not serendipitous? Mountain travelers and Wild People see eye to eye.”

Song Zhi frowned. “Spirit Jade Mountain’s Wild Cloud Ford? Where is it?”

Before Cui Dongshan could continue his deception, Chen Ping’an said, “Do not choose that place, Daoist Song Zhi. It is too limited. Even if you were willing to spend money to expand the ford, it would struggle to accommodate one intercontinental ferry.”

Song Zhi nodded and drank his wine. He had to be able to accommodate at least three intercontinental ferries.

Cui Dongshan said, “What about the Phosphorus River?”

Song Zhi said, “It is passable, but not as good as Peach Leaf Ford and the Southern Driving Mountain Ford.”

Cui Dongshan grinned. “Then we shall wait and see.”

Chen Ping’an raised his bowl and paused. “I knew it.”

Chen Ping’an sat on a golden bridge holding the bowl.

The woman smiled. “I was bored.”

Chen Ping’an looked around. “Is this real?”

She shook her head. “It is the scenery from ten thousand years ago, as I remember it. It is like the verses that say: familiar snow, revisiting doors, full moon, difficult reunion. Would you like to see Zheng Da-feng and Fan Jun-mao in their past lives? You can chat with them. It is hard to tell what is real.”

Chen Ping’an shook his head and asked, “How far are the two Ascension Stages?”

She laughed. “Distance is a concept of later generations. Where the heart goes, the sword light reaches.”

Chen Ping’an finished his wine, held out his empty bowl, and leaned forward. “If I were to throw this bowl, and nothing were to stop it, when would it hit the ground?”

She laughed. “Shall we try?”

Chen Ping’an lightly tossed the bowl off the bridge. “Peaceful life for ten thousand years, ten thousand years of peace.”

She rubbed Chen Ping’an’s head. “I hope my master will always be young.”

She propped her hands on the railing. “It is different now.”

Chen Ping’an leaned back, swinging his legs, and smiled. “That won’t be easy.”

After a moment, Chen Ping’an asked the greatest question. “Why did you make spells rain upon the world?”

Without that great rain of swordsmanship and spells, there might not have been the rise of humanity.

She looked into the distance, at the eternal stars. She winked at Chen Ping’an. “Answer yourself.”

( )