Li Huai, back in his hometown, was trailed by a fox spirit of a woman named Wei Taizhen. She wore a veiled hat, hiding her face, as they made their way to the Yang family apothecary. For years, Li Huai had grown used to wandering the land with a young Daoist, their days filled with laughter, complaints, and casual banter. It had been easygoing and carefree. But now, suddenly, he was partnered with the celestial Wei, who insisted on addressing him as “Young Master,” a title that sent shivers down his spine. He felt awkward and out of place. He repeatedly asked her to call him by name, begging her to drop the “Young Master” act. He was just a poor boy who considered a chicken leg a grand feast. If the townsfolk heard her, they’d mock him mercilessly. Yet every time he suggested it, she would bite her lip, offering no argument, only casting her eyes down in a melancholic silence that made her seem even more wronged than he. At such moments, Li Huai felt his head would burst. He, a man born to hardship, was ill-equipped to handle such unexpected fortune, such…beauty. “I am a scholar, after all!” he would remind himself.

What if Zheng Dafeng, with his crude jokes and coarse humor, were to see them? The thought alone made him shudder. Wei Taizhen was delicate and easily embarrassed; Zheng Dafeng’s words might drive her to anger, leaving Li Huai caught in the middle, no matter whom he defended.

Reaching the familiar apothecary, Li Huai strode across the threshold, calling out, “Shi Lingshan!” He looked around, but oddly, Su Dian was nowhere to be seen.

Shi Lingshan regarded Li Huai with a mixture of emotions. He felt no need for polite conversation, and cut straight to the matter: “Hu Feng from Second Brother Lane sent two letters to the apothecary not long ago. One was for me, asking me to pass a message to you. He’s now in the southern lands, in the new Yunxiao Hong dynasty, where he and some friends have started a mountain sect. He wants you to visit and reminisce. He has something he wishes to discuss with you face to face.”

Li Huai was bewildered and uneasy. “He owes me a favor? I don’t remember that. Surely Hu Feng must be mistaken?”

He had only a vague memory of Hu Feng, who was a few years older. He recalled him often accompanying his grandfather, who ran a business of mending bowls, sharpening knives, and the like. Although they were from the same town, Li Huai had barely exchanged a word with him. How could he owe such a debt? Perhaps it was some twisted irony, a disguised attempt to collect on a forgotten loan. But then again, he remembered Hu Feng as being a simple, earnest fellow. Surely he wouldn’t resort to such tactics?

Shi Lingshan shrugged. “How would I know? I’m just delivering the message. Anything else is beyond me. Your letter is on the table in your usual room, the one on the east side. Go read it yourself.”

Shi Lingshan recalled something else and placed a key on the counter. “Also, Master left you everything in the wood shed in the back courtyard, all the odds and ends. Su Shijie and I haven’t dared open the door to clean it out. You should move it all out when you have the chance, as it can’t stay here forever. Best to do it sooner rather than later. The apothecary has a handcart; two or three trips should be enough.”

Li Huai’s head swam. Move it? Where to? His ancestral home was small enough as it was. If his mother ever found out that his room was crammed full of “junk” from the Yang family apothecary, she would unleash a torrent of scolding, caring little for the respect due to the dead. He proposed a compromise to Shi Lingshan: He would leave the items where they were for now. If Shi Lingshan felt they were taking up too much space, he would pay rent each year.

Shi Lingshan sighed as he looked at the sincere young scholar. He waved his hand, saying that rent wasn’t necessary, that it was unseemly to be so formal. Besides, the entire back courtyard was Master’s territory, and Li Huai could postpone the move indefinitely if he wished.

Li Huai thanked him profusely and turned to go inspect the wood shed. As he bent to lift the bamboo curtain, Shi Lingshan glanced at the fox spirit, who was timidly attempting to follow Li Huai. His face remained impassive. “Front shop, back workshop. No loitering.”

*Hmph,* he thought, *a fox spirit of questionable origins daring to wander into the back courtyard? Who gave her the audacity?*

Wei Taizhen paled. The gentle fox spirit hastily curtsied, offering a silent apology to the martial cultivator at the counter.

Li Huai could only guess her thoughts, but to Wei Taizhen, the young warrior was wreathed in divine light, as if protected by a powerful deity. The light seemed to suppress all ghosts and spirits.

Wei Taizhen had sensed the overwhelming aura the moment she stepped inside. A golden deity seemed to slowly open its eyes, gazing down upon her. She dared not meet its gaze.

Li Huai turned back with a smile and explained, “Shi Lingshan, I know the rules of the apothecary, but Wei Taizhen is a close friend. No need to be so strict. I promise she won’t touch anything in the back courtyard.”

Seeing that Shi Lingshan remained unconvinced, Li Huai clasped his hands in supplication, pleading with a playful grin, “A little flexibility, please!”

Since Li Huai had spoken, Shi Lingshan could only nod.

It wasn’t that Shi Lingshan wanted to make things difficult for the mysterious fox spirit, or embarrass Li Huai. He simply believed that the apothecary’s back courtyard was not a place for casual visitors. Now that Master was gone, he wanted to uphold that tradition as best he could.

Li Huai explained telepathically, “Wei Guniang, don’t be angry. Shi Lingshan is just like that. He values the traditions passed down by his elders above all else. He’s not doing this personally.”

Wei Taizhen nodded vigorously.

Li Huai seemed to have inexplicably mastered the pure martial artist’s ability to speak mind to mind, as well as the mind-speech of cultivators.

Sometimes he wondered why he couldn’t grasp books as easily. But Li Huai was pragmatic. There were many things he didn’t understand. Why bother racking his brain?

The apothecary’s back courtyard had a small courtyard. Li Huai imagined that during the rainy season, the water would flow from all sides into the central courtyard.

A long wooden bench stood beneath the eaves, opposite the main house, which was elevated several steps above the courtyard.

At that moment, Wei Taizhen felt an inexplicable sensation, or perhaps it was merely a delusion.

As soon as she entered, she felt a tightening in her chest and a sense of her own insignificance. She felt as if she were standing within a towering palace whose height and depth were beyond comprehension.

She even felt as if each breath she took was a transgression deserving of punishment.

If not for Li Huai’s presence, a thunderbolt might strike her down, obliterating her soul.

Wei Taizhen, who came from Treasure Mirror Mountain in Bone Beach, had become a Golden Core Earth Immortal. She had followed Li Huai and a girl named Pei Qian on a journey through the Northern Ju Continent, acting on secret orders from her master. She remembered that Pei Qian had been a sixth-realm martial cultivator back then. Little had she known she would become one of the most skilled Grand Masters under Heaven.

And Li Huai, once a student at Cliff Academy on Treasure Bottle Continent, had become a virtuous scholar of the vast world.

Wei Taizhen privately thought that Pei Qian’s jump from sixth-realm to the highest realm was easier to accept.

It wasn’t that Li Huai didn’t diligently study, but he wasn’t exactly gifted in the way of learning. During their travels, he had always remembered half of what he studied. Back then, even Wei Taizhen could recite them from memory, to say nothing of Pei Qian. In everything but diligence and a willingness to work hard, Wei Taizhen had sought in vain for the young master’s strengths in the art of scholarship. After much searching, she had come to a conclusion: Li Huai had no talent whatsoever!

Wei Taizhen was now a Nascent Soul fox spirit.

The reason she had left Li Huai’s side before was because her master, Li Liu, worried that Wei Taizhen’s Dao Heart would become unstable as she approached the Golden Core bottleneck but wasn’t ready for a closed-door breakthrough. If she couldn’t control her fox spirit aura, she would become a true seductress, harming his studies. Thus, she had been ordered to stay on Lion Peak and cultivate her Dao, descending only after breaking through, to continue caring for Li Huai.

When she had become a Golden Core Immortal, Li Liu had gifted Wei Taizhen two magical treasures, allowing her to trade her life for that of a Nascent Soul cultivator who wasn’t a swordsman.

Now that she had become a Nascent Soul, Li Liu had given her two offensive treasures, allowing her to trade her life for that of a Jade Purity cultivator.

But because she was naturally gentle and had never sparred with the cultivators on the mountain, she looked easy to bully.

She possessed the realm of a Nascent Soul, but the aura of a wild cultivator from the lower five realms.

Suddenly, the bamboo curtain was lifted, and a man’s voice interrupted Wei Taizhen’s thoughts.

“Fair maiden, might I inquire as to your name, your home, and whether you are betrothed?”

Wei Taizhen quickly turned her head to see a man with a shiny head of hair, rubbing his hands together and smiling bashfully. “My name is Zheng Dafeng, Li Huai’s…elder brother! I’m not married, but I’ve always been virtuous, and my standards are high. That’s why I’ve dragged my feet on it. I may look old, but I’m not that old. To be honest, I taught Li Huai everything he knows.”

The man plopped down on the long bench, shifted his weight, and patted the seat. “No need to stand on ceremony here. Treat this place as your own. Sit, let’s sit and chat.”

Although she wore a veiled hat, her figure was graceful, and her eyes shone with intelligence and allure. Zheng Dafeng was certain that with such a figure, her face didn’t even matter!

Seeing that the maiden was shy because of the sudden encounter with a handsome man, Zheng Dafeng lifted his long gown, crossed his legs, and smiled. “I am a scholar as well, fond of wandering the mountain of books. I am entranced by chance encounters with beautiful lines of poetry, much more so with a beauty like yourself.”

*See,* he thought, *my looks and eloquence have already captivated this foreign girl.*

Li Huai, having read Hu Feng’s letter, heard the commotion outside. He stepped out of his room and promptly exposed the charade. “Why don’t you say you brought me up with your own blood and tears?”

He hadn’t been far off from the truth; Li Huai had been closest to Zheng Dafeng as a child. He would often carry Li Huai back and forth between his ancestral home on the west side and the Yang family apothecary.

Zheng Dafeng grew flustered. “I’m not that old! I’m still a strapping young man in my twenties…”

Wei Taizhen was at a loss for what to do.

Fortunately, the man was only being smooth-tongued and hadn’t tried anything inappropriate. Otherwise, she would have slapped him already.

Li Huai mischievously introduced them. “Wei Xianzi, this is Zheng Dafeng. I’ve called him Uncle Zheng since I was a kid. He’s my father’s martial brother, and used to work at the apothecary. But Old Man Yang thought he was lazy, spending his days doing nothing but playing chess on the roadside or loafing around the Dragon Kiln. So he kicked him out. Uncle Zheng now works part-time as a gatekeeper on the east side of town. He’s a good man.”

Zheng Dafeng’s eyes lit up. “You’re surnamed Wei? Wei as in ‘Wei compiled three times?’ What a fine surname! Besides, it’s written in the ancient books that ‘On this day, a great wind blew, uprooting all the trees above ten spans in the Gan Quan Temple.’ Fate! It seems I am destined to be with you, Wei Guniang!”

Wei Taizhen was skeptical. Could there really be such a book, such a saying?

Li Huai pointed to the wood shed. “Uncle Zheng, I just heard Shi Lingshan say that Old Man Yang left everything in the wood shed to me, but I don’t have anywhere to put it. Why don’t I give it to you? You can move it out.”

Zheng Dafeng did own a mud-brick house on the east side of town.

Li Huai didn’t have the best of relationships with Shi Lingshan, but he had always treated Zheng Dafeng as one of his elders.

Zheng Dafeng said sternly, “This was Master’s arrangement. I wouldn’t dare accept it if you gave it to me.”

Li Huai shrugged. “Then I’ll just leave it there for now.”

Zheng Dafeng nodded and smiled. “That would be best.”

Li Huai asked, “What brings you here?”

Zheng Dafeng replied, “A bunch of half-acquainted scholars came to Ruopo Mountain. I’m a bit of a coward, so I left the Daoist Xianwei to entertain them.”

Li Huai was puzzled. “What?”

Zheng Dafeng didn’t want to elaborate. “Where’s that young Daoist?”

Li Huai said, “He ran off to Tongye Continent. Apparently Chen Ping’an personally invited him to help with an important task.”

Zheng Dafeng said resignedly, “You actually believe that?”

Li Huai laughed. “Of course not. Why take such tall tales seriously? Just listen and let it go.”

Zheng Dafeng gave him a thumbs up. “A broad mind brings good fortune.”

Li Huai asked, “Where’s Su Dian?”

Zheng Dafeng said, “She’s gone on a long journey. Thanks to you, she’s seeking out a senior martial brother. A friend in the imperial court is as good as an official, and in the martial world, it’s easier to establish yourself in a foreign land with a powerful brother to lean on.”

Li Huai was confused. “What does Su Dian seeking out a senior brother have to do with me?”

Zheng Dafeng smiled. “Heaven speaks not, but the threads of fate intertwine.”

***

At the gates of Ruopo Mountain…

The Daoist Xianwei’s knees began to shake when he recognized the scholars.

They were familiar! They were too familiar! After all, the Daoist was a fraud, never officially ordained, but he had studied the words of the sages for years.

How could he not recognize them? Every continent, every state, every county has its own Confucian Temple, and the imperial capital has more portraits in its temple than anywhere else, with all seventy-two Sages featured. Smaller Confucian Temples in rural counties have fewer portraits, featuring mostly the Supreme Master, the Sage of Rituals, the Second Sage, and the Sage of Literature, along with ten portraits of the Ten Philosophers.

The four scholars standing before him had stepped right out of the portraits.

There was the cotton-robed scholar with a gourd hanging from his waist.

Dao Lin, styled Ranjun, the head of the seventy-two Sages of the Confucian Temple. Legend had it that he was the first Confucian Sage to possess a natal style name.

And the tall, crowned man wearing an iron sword.

Zhou Guo, styled Duanzheng, said to be the disciple who had served the Supreme Master the longest, following the Master on travels through the world, suppressing even the “Daoists” of ancient times.

Then there was Min Wen, styled Xiangji, who was gentle on the outside but firm on the inside, known for his piety and skill in “literature.”

Finally, there was Li Hou, styled Jujing, who was eloquent, skilled in governance, and adept at creating wealth. He was considered by later generations to be the founding father of Confucian merchants. The Supreme Master had praised him, saying that one “could discuss poetry” with him. Li Hou was also widely considered to be the disciple who most revered the Supreme Master. While the valiant Zhou Guo would dare to say, “Why read books to learn?”, Li Hou would proclaim, “My master’s learning is as inaccessible as the heavens, which cannot be climbed by stairs.”

Perhaps because Li Hou was skilled in commerce and worldly affairs, there were more stories and praise about him than any other disciple. It was said that he combined learning and action better than any other scholar.

These four scholars, seemingly emerged from the Confucian Temple paintings, were the most beloved students of the Supreme Master, all of whom were among the Ten Philosophers.

Ranjun was poor but content, while Jujing was rich but benevolent.

The way of culture and martial arts had not fallen to earth, but remained within men. Culture rested in Min Wen, and martial arts in Duanzheng.

Li Hou smiled. “Will we be mistaken for swindlers again?”

Having arrived in Huaihuang County, they had initially intended to visit either Cloudfall Mountain or Ruopo Mountain, but instead they had made a spur-of-the-moment decision to first visit the Great Li capital to see the Rumor-Followers Pavilion and the Spring Mountain Academy, the predecessor of Cliff Academy.

Unexpectedly, they were stopped in the alleyway and told that the way was blocked and they should turn back.

Old Immortal Master Liu Jia and his disciple Zhao Duanming whispered to each other. The old Nascent Soul was immediately incensed. Every time his disciple saw a scholar, he claimed to recognize him as one of the Sages in the Confucian Temple, and Zhao Duanming swore he couldn’t be mistaken. At first, Liu Jia was shocked and apprehensive, but the more he heard, the angrier he became. Were swindlers in the capital really this brazen? If only one legendary Sage had appeared, Liu Jia might have believed it, but with four of them at once, he couldn’t help but have doubts. And they were all the top Sages of the Ten Philosophers… This was going too far!

*You think I’m a fool?*

The group of four scholars smiled at each other. They didn’t explain anything, and simply turned around and left.

The old Immortal Master sighed, lamenting that morals were declining and people were not what they used to be. The scholars of today were a disgrace!

The young man couldn’t help but ask, “Master, what if they weren’t swindlers?”

The old Immortal Master stroked his beard and cautiously asked, “Impossible, right?”

In the end, he stopped worrying about the truth and laughed lightly. If they were who they claimed to be, then perhaps Director Cui’s half-joking words from back then had come true.

Now that he had fulfilled his wish and met these ancient figures, he, Liu Jia, no longer needed to stand guard here.

But before leaving the alleyway, he had to thank the embroidered tiger.

The old man glanced back at the quiet alley, as if he could see an old scholar with snow-white hair, wearing a green robe, with a handful of peanuts in his hand. He occasionally popped one into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, as if his thoughts were of state matters. Alone, walking down the road, he seemed to care little for self-cultivation or managing his household, yet he was capable of governing the country and bringing peace to the world.

The Daoist Xianwei, however, did not doubt their identities.

The fact that they dared to come to Ruopo Mountain was proof enough.

Duanzheng asked in confusion, “Is it him?”

The eldest brother had already given the answer. The cotton-robed scholar and the Daoist bowed to each other.

The other three scholars respectfully bowed to the Daoist.

If not for this man’s groundbreaking achievements ten thousand years ago, the world today would not be what it was.

The gatekeeper Xianwei, wearing a wooden hairpin, vaguely returned a Daoist salute.

When Chen Ping’an appeared, Xianwei breathed a sigh of relief. They had been bowing to the Mountain Lord.

On the stone steps of Jise Peak, Qing Yi, the little boy, was sitting with Chen Qingliu, not going down to greet the guests.

Xin Ji’an, who had just returned from his travels, sat beside him.

A clerk from Ruopo Mountain was squatting nearby, trembling with excitement. This day’s entry in the records was significant!

Chen Lingjun felt that the guests at the foot of the mountain seemed familiar, as if he had met them somewhere but couldn’t remember where.

He nudged his friend Chen Qingliu and whispered, “Are they your friends?”

Chen Qingliu smiled. “They’re above my station.”

Chen Lingjun said, “Even our master has gone down to greet them. It’s not right for me to sit here with you, is it?”

Chen Qingliu scoffed. “You’re not a scholar. What can you do there? Talk about ‘Zhi Hu Zhe Ye’?”

Chen Lingjun bristled. “You’ve always considered yourself a scholar. Why don’t you go and join in? At least you’ll be able to make yourself known.”

Chen Qingliu smiled. “I’m past the age where I need to introduce myself to anyone.”

Xin Ji’an nodded. “From the day he left his blessed land, Chen Daoyou secretly made a rule never to attend those boring gatherings where he has to introduce himself. I think the only exception was when he met that expert of Moism?”

Because Chen Lingjun was sitting nearby, Xin Ji’an didn’t reveal the expert’s true identity, which was the leader of Moism.

Chen Qingliu nodded. “If I remember correctly, that was the only exception. Because he said something that resonated with me: ‘A muddy source cannot produce a clear stream, and a person of untrustworthy conduct will damage his reputation.'”

Chen Lingjun ignored the boasting. “Turbid Stream Brother, were you actually born in a blessed land? Aren’t you from the Northern Ju Continent?”

Chen Qingliu looked wistful. “I’m actually from an unowned blessed land in Liuxia Continent.”

Xin Ji’an asked, “I forgot to ask, where is that Xie Guniang now?”

She had once followed them on a journey to Inverted Mountain, posing as a servant girl, and her fists were strong.

Chen Qingliu smiled. “We parted ways after the journey was over. She didn’t get along with my disciples, so she went to the Western Buddhist Kingdom. I haven’t heard from her in a long time.”

Chen Lingjun grew increasingly curious. He lowered his voice and asked, “Among your disciples, is there one surnamed Zheng, who likes to wear white clothes and looks like he’s not short on money?”

Chen Qingliu nodded. “He’s my first disciple, surnamed Zheng. He’s doing quite well in the Central Earth Continent. The others are failures.”

Would those like Han Qiaose and Liu Daocun even have the face to call him Master?

Chen Lingjun was relieved. It seemed he hadn’t been disrespectful in calling him Nephew Zheng back then.

But there was one thing he couldn’t figure out: Why had the Old Scholar and the White Goose seemed to get along so well with that Nephew Zheng? Had it just been politeness?

Chen Qingliu scoffed. “That kid named Zheng is too smart. I didn’t dare teach him swordsmanship, lest he surpass his master.”

Chen Lingjun patted Chen Qingliu’s arm. “We’re brothers. No need to talk nonsense outside of the tavern.”

He didn’t want Kong Hou, who had become the Mountain Chronicler of Ruopo Mountain, to hear them and laugh at him for having such unreliable and loose-tongued friends.

The White-Haired Boy sneered. They were brothers?

Did Jingqing Daoyou really know who that Xin who had been given two of his calligraphic works, yet he’d declared had “decent handwriting, decent poetry, and a strong aura?”

Chen Lingjun had an inspiration. To be on the safe side, he covered his mouth and asked, “Be honest with me. That Nephew Zheng, is he…that one?”

Chen Qingliu smiled. “Who’s that one? Because he’s surnamed Zheng and likes to wear white clothes, you mean Zheng Juzhong of White Emperor City?”

Chen Lingjun laughed. “It’s a pity we’re not telling stories on the street to make money!”

Little Mo, wearing a yellow hat and blue shoes, appeared with the mink-hatted girl and sat casually on the steps.

At the Sword-Worshipping Platform, Xie Gou had promised Little Mo that he wouldn’t argue with the visitors. He would be polite and courteous.

But in truth, Xie Gou had his own plans. If there were red faces, then there must be white faces as well.

But when Little Mo had agreed without hesitation, without even asking Chen Ping’an, Xie Gou relented. He didn’t mind making things difficult for Mountain Lord Chen, but he couldn’t bear to put Little Mo in a difficult position.

They sat in a row on the mountain steps, from left to right: the White-Haired Boy with a pen, Xie Gou yawning, Little Mo with a green bamboo staff across her lap, Chen Lingjun wondering why Nuan Shu hadn’t appeared yet, Chen Qingliu clapping his hands, and Xin Ji’an looking relaxed. Soon after, Zhu Lian arrived with the pink-skirted girl and sat beside Xin Ji’an.

Having been warned by Chen Ping’an, Wei Bo hastily traveled from the Cloudfall Mountain reading room to Ruopo Mountain.

If Chen Ping’an hadn’t told him beforehand, Wei Bo wouldn’t have believed it.

Mountain Lord Wei bowed to the scholars, his heart unable to calm. It was like a dream come true.

The cotton-robed scholar with the gourd smiled. “Wandering in the darkness with a candle is good. Mountain Lord Wei’s title of Night Wanderer is well-deserved.”

Wei Bo was taken aback. After a moment of silence, he immediately said, “What the Great Scholar says is absolutely right. I have long held this belief!”

Chen Ping’an was speechless. Was Mountain Lord Wei sleepwalking when he had painstakingly advised him earlier?