From the slopes of Jise Peak on Fallen Mountain, the Old Scholar arrived and departed with unsettling haste, offering no reason to Chen Ping’an, his favored student, though he trusted the lad would surmise the truth.

It was the Grand Master’s debate on the banks of Pan Water that stirred it all, a discussion touching upon the forbidden art of questioning the heavens. In this, the Old Scholar held unique skill, proven in his discourses with the elder of the imitation White Jade City and his tutelage of Yu Xuan beyond the celestial dome. Thus, he sought leave from the Sage of Rites, a mere half-hour respite to visit Fallen Mountain.

Though yearning to linger, the Old Scholar could only offer a mournful apology to the children. He then drew Chen Ping’an aside, up a small stretch of mountain path, and spoke quickly, pressing vital questions. “Have you confidence in your imminent return to Jade Purity?”

Chen Ping’an possessed one virtue, a supreme one: he would not offer comforting lies.

“I have a measure of assurance, Teacher. Worry not; I have means to ensure my safety, should the need arise.”

“Have you sought counsel from Bai Ye regarding the tempering of the Night Wanderer sword?”

For it was a shard of Taibai, one of the Four Immortal Swords.

At the city ramparts, Chen Ping’an; in the wilds, Fei Ran; beside Zou Zi, Liu Cai; and wandering the Five-Hued Worlds, Zhao Yao—each possessed a fragment.

“I have been hesitant to broach the matter,” Chen Ping’an admitted. “In my heart, I deem Master Bai as a figure beyond reach, a denizen of the heavens.”

“Then leave it for now. But remember to ask; opportunities lost are never regained. Before Bai Ye returns to the Azure Sky, you must steel your courage and inquire. And what of Yu, that old miser? Did you manage to coax an egg from him during his visit to Fallen Mountain?”

“Senior Yu gifted, or rather, lent, a thousand golden bronze coins,” Chen Ping’an replied. “A generous sum.”

“Hardly sufficient! It is but what is due. The Ancestor of the Tao once left much azure energy here, first come, first served. Bai Ye might have claimed it, as might Xie Shi, the Celestial Monarch. Any Taoist stood a chance. Yet Yu intercepted a vast fortune of Taoist destiny! Ought he not offer recompense?”

In truth, this great aura was intended for Yu Xuan, the Taoist, by the Ancestor himself. Few could have wrested it from him.

However, without the Old Scholar’s prompting, Yu Xuan, a master of stratagems, would have lacked the face to seize it upon arriving at Treasure Bottle Continent. He was ever mindful of the Literary Temple’s stance. But with the Sage of Literature, the Temple’s current voice, giving tacit approval, Yu Xuan gladly accepted the opportunity.

“As Senior Yu has not spoken of it, I shall feign ignorance,” Chen Ping’an said.

“Bah! Still too bashful! You should have requested ancient secrets of talisman-making from Mount Taofu. Had you but asked, he would have gladly complied.”

The Old Scholar sighed. He would visit Yu himself and demand recompense. Could they deny him, with the five great sects on their mountain, and the countless celebrations, both large and small?

“Teacher,” Chen Ping’an inquired, “in Vast Heaven, would a Taoist temple, named simply ‘Taoist Temple,’ violate the rites of the Literary Temple?”

It was akin to naming a mountain “Green Mountain,” rather than using a euphemism like “Emerald Peak.” In Vast Heaven, where names and titles held immense power, such a challenge seemed insurmountable.

First, they must pass the scrutiny of the Central Earth Literary Temple.

Borrowing coin and owing favors were equally arduous tasks.

The Old Scholar stroked his beard, lost in thought. “It is not beyond discussion. The Sage of Rites might be amenable, but the Second Sage may balk. And the three Masters of the Temple… you may have to wage a small war of words with them.”

“Then let it be. I will not risk strife in the Temple to enrich Senior Yu.”

“That Master Zheng of White Emperor City has ascended further,” the Old Scholar said.

“Good news,” Chen Ping’an replied.

No wonder Liu Chicheng was strutting about once more.

“And the Wildlands?”

“No great matter for now, save for one small thing. The Literary Temple has formed a think tank of over three hundred individuals, deliberately favoring youth. This temporary office is located in the city at the Earth Vein Ferry. Every school of thought is represented; each may send one, and only the exceptional are chosen as military strategists. Initially, there were to be three levels, but Yuan Pang argued against such complexity, deeming it more harmful than beneficial. Thus, it was simplified to inner and outer circles of advisors.”

“Schools of thought” was a broad term. Only sixty-two remained, recognized and defined by the Literary Temple.

Each “school” was born from a desperate, intellectual exploration of the world’s future.

“Xu Bai stands out among them. But three others surpass him, one of whom you know well: Lin Junbi, the new strategist of the Shao Yuan Dynasty.”

The Old Scholar sighed. His prized student had entrusted only a notebook to the Literary Temple, delivered by the Night Wanderer, Wei Bo.

Chen Ping’an asked, “In general, are the elders more aggressive, seeking swift victories to secure their advantage, while the youth are more cautious, aiming for gradual progress, ensuring the war has only an opening and a middle, or that the middle serves as the end? Their goal: to keep everything ‘controlled,’ denying the Wildlands any chance to turn the tide?”

The Old Scholar laughed heartily. “You have guessed it!”

Chen Ping’an pressed, “Who are the others? Aside from Yuan Pang, the Headmaster of Hengqu Academy, who is the third?”

The Old Scholar smiled, stroking his beard. “He is a disciple of the eclectic school. He likened this war to… ”

Raising his hand, the Old Scholar waved his sleeve, then smiled. “A steamroller! To conquer half the Wildlands within sixty years, with minimal losses, and maximum gains!”

Chen Ping’an was stunned, then exclaimed, “A magnificent strategy! Splendid ambition!”

During the latter stages of that war, under the Literary Temple’s guidance, the Ten Dynasties spared no expense in developing weapons of war that could shift the balance of power. The Great Li Dynasty, in alliance with the Mohists, crafted mountain-crossing ships and sword-vessels. But these were merely a fraction of what was concealed, waiting for deployment within the Wildlands, where the native demons would discover their lethality.

The Old Scholar hesitated.

Chen Ping’an, ever perceptive, smiled. “I have sent word to Xuan Can and Cao Gun through Liu Xu. Once he arrives at Quan Jiao Mountain, all sword cultivators may withdraw from the underground mines. Whether they wish to serve as military strategists for the Literary Temple is their choice. I can only offer friendly advice.”

Sending young sword cultivators of the Summer Palace to Fuyu Continent, protected by seasoned sword immortals of the Great Wall of Swords, was a great risk.

Any mishap would bring the ire of those young men’s sects, silent though they might be. For these were heirs apparent to the patriarch’s thrones—skilled, intelligent, and virtuous, like Cao Qinglang of Fallen Mountain.

The Old Scholar nodded, smiling. “No coercion. It must be their choice.”

* * *

“Old Scholar, why is your disciple not here?!” his old friends demanded. “Is he already resting on his laurels?”

Those who dared ask so bluntly were intimate with the Old Scholar.

“Sage of Literature, will Chen, the Mountain Master, serve as a military strategist?”

Many asked, mostly ambitious young people, driven by more than admiration. They believed in seeing for themselves.

The Old Scholar was adamant. “Ping’an, should you visit the Earth Vein Ferry, I shall speak with the Master of the Mohists. If he dares turn you away, I shall camp at his door!”

Chen Ping’an winced. He could only deflect his teacher’s enthusiasm.

The Old Scholar glanced at the sky. “I must depart.”

Bai Ye inquired telepathically, “Shall I wait for my unknown friend here, or seek him out?”

The Old Scholar smiled. “Do you wish to exchange swordsmanship with Master Xiao Mo?”

Bai Ye replied, “Conversation is best face-to-face. A brief encounter is sufficient.”

After some hesitation, the Old Scholar said, “Return to Xuan Du Temple if you desire.”

Bai Ye acted swiftly, ascending to the heavens with Jun Qian.

The Old Scholar stamped his foot in frustration. Jun Qian replied telepathically, “Teacher, Bai Ye left a booklet on the table regarding the Immortal Sword Taibai. He bade our younger brother peruse it at his leisure.”

“How thick is the booklet?” the Old Scholar inquired.

Jun Qian replied truthfully, “Neither thin nor thick.”

The Old Scholar glared. “What use is a senior brother like you? Wait until I see you again!”

Jun Qian pleaded, “Teacher, blame not me. I urged him, but Bai Ye would not listen. I could not force him to write more.”

The Old Scholar softened his tone. “Jun Qian, cause no trouble there. I am not at your side, and White Jade City is foreign soil. Tread carefully.”

Jun Qian assented. At the gate to the heavens, he and Bai Ye bowed towards Shaozhou Pan Water.

* * *

Today’s meeting at the ancestral hall of Jise Peak was simple. Aside from confirming the mountain’s ownership, they established roles: Xie Gou as the second-ranked guardian of Fallen Mountain; Xiao Mo as a temporary guardian; and Kong Hou as the first chronicler, elevated from outer-sect servant to inner-sect disciple. Yet outer and inner sects were mere formalities on Fallen Mountain.

One was either a guardian or a direct disciple of a guardian. Thus, the White-Haired Child’s status as an inner-sect disciple remained unique.

And now, as chronicler, the White-Haired Child would have a seat in the ancestral hall. The Hidden Official Ancestor was meticulous and generous!

Chen Ping’an officially accepted Guo Zhujiu and Ning Ji as personal disciples. The law-keeper, Chang Ming, sat by the table, grinding ink, writing, and inscribing their names into the ancestral records.

As for the sword-vessel, whether it belonged to the upper mountain or the lower sect was immaterial. Master Cui had to acknowledge the extent of his abandonment.

Neither the chief disciple, Zhou, nor the instructor of the lower sect academy, Jia, offered him any quarter.

Ultimately, the sword-vessel remained with the upper mountain but could be leased to the lower sect.

As the matters were settled, one by one, Chen Lingjun sat upright but with vacant eyes.

Having attended the consecration ceremony of the Northern Mountain, Yu Xuan returned to his Taoist haven beyond the sky. Chen Ping’an’s reminder had not been in vain.

Only after Chen Lingjun confirmed that the old immortal had indeed returned to the cosmos did he dare grumble that he had sat as host for half the day without receiving an early drink as recompense. The old immortal’s behavior was rather impolite.

Then there was that Master Xin, who always nodded and smiled in greeting. He knew Chen, the Dragon Slayer!

The Chen Qingliu on the first page of *Roadside Tales*! The teacher of Zheng Juzhong of White Emperor City!

Chen Lingjun was unnerved.

He must avoid Master Xin, and warn his friend Chen Zhuoliu… But how could he dictate his friends’ friendships? He would simply suggest, at their next meeting, that his friend tread carefully, for Master Xin knew the legendary Dragon Slayer.

A friend of a friend of a friend—did that make them friends? No, he would avoid contrived alliances.

Lost in thought, Chen Lingjun turned to the girl beside him, staring until she frowned, almost glaring. Only then did he turn away, crossing his arms. Alas, she knew not of his grand ambitions, his unheralded deeds!

All gatherings must end, until the next encounter.

Wu Yuan was a provincial governor; Zhao Yao, a ministerial assistant. Both were high officials.

Chen Ping’an spoke with his two disciples.

The Great Li court would establish an office to handle certain “minor matters.”

Pull out the radish, drag out the mud, and fill the hole.

If a corruption case arose in a county, or a transgression occurred in a mountain sect, the court would investigate thoroughly. No one was spared, from the pillars of the realm to the immortals of the land or even cultivators above the fifth realm. All would be summoned to the Ministry of Justice to prove their innocence. Within the court, this would be recorded, and a gazette sent to provincial governors and generals, becoming a fixed protocol. If necessary, it would descend further, to prefectural officials and local deities.

Wu Yuan was silent; Zhao Yao smiled. “How shall we judge? Surely not all deserve the same punishment?”

Chen Ping’an replied, “You are the ministerial assistant of the Ministry of Justice. You shall determine the crimes and sentences. I shall only help you and the Ministry conclude the matters.”

“During this, the officials who protect each other will be your prime target. You must focus on those individuals and their schemes.”

“The officials who enter this office must be young and of low rank, possessing high authority. Also, secretly establish an internal office to monitor their words and deeds. Give them opportunities to err, perhaps even deliberately, and punish them lightly. Then, tell them plainly that this transgression will be recorded only by you, inaccessible even to the heads of the Ministry of Justice and the Ministry of Personnel.”

“Therefore, the selection of those ‘minor matters’ is crucial. Start with mid-level officials, of two types: the upstarts who rose through scheming, with no meritorious deeds to offset their faults, and those who retired wealthy, with nothing to forgive. Your Ministry of Justice will lead and direct the investigations, but from the beginning, coordinate with local officials, seeking those who are willing to inform, and those who are accustomed to mutual protection. Your secret enforcers will be kept busy.”

Zhao Yao nodded. “I understand.”

Wu Yuan said, “I will be the one to open this discussion, lest Minister Zhao and the Ministry of Justice be suspected of power-grabbing.”

A mountain possessed its own Taoist aura, and an office, its own blend of clean and murky officialdom.

Zhao Yao asked, “Is there more?”

Chen Ping’an replied, “The court will revise the land registry and include it in the next Imperial Audit. The Departments of Revenue in both capitals will work with the mountain deities and the river lords. Officials from the Ministry of Personnel and the city god temples will meet regularly in the capital to exchange information, as long as it does not violate their duties or the rules of the underworld. Examine old accounts; if the history is too distant, leave the innocent descendants untouched. But if the noble clans of today do not mend their ways, your Ministry of Justice will have more to investigate.”

Wu Yuan asked, “Why not announce it publicly, down to the county level, so all know?”

Chen Ping’an was silent.

Zhao Yao shook his head at Wu Yuan.

Chen Ping’an stood and smiled. “Then let us proceed with our tasks.”

* * *

Li Baoping would return to the Cliff Academy of the Great Sui Dynasty to organize her studies; Pei Qian would accompany her.

Li Huai would visit the Wildlands, for the Young Taoist was busy with the dredging of the Great River and needed a new protector. As Chen Ping’an had “tricked” the Young Taoist into coming to Tongye Continent, he hesitated to whom to entrust Li Huai, to replace Tao Ting of the Wildlands. Xiao Mo was in the Azure Sky; Jiang Shangzhen and Cui Dongshan were watching over the Lotus Land; Xie Gou? Chen Ping’an inquired, and she did not mind, as long as she did not slay a great demon of the Wildlands, which would violate her agreement with Lord Bai Ze. Xie Gou asked if Chen Ping’an feared she would betray him. Chen Ping’an replied that certain matters had already taken root, and that failed love did not always lead to enmity. Xie Gou was invigorated, vowing that if Li Huai lost a single hair, she would offer her head in atonement.

Chen Ping’an told Li Huai that his journey might change, from the original route through Beiju Luzhou, Aihai Continent, and Central Earth, to Tongye Continent, Nanposa Continent, and Fuyu Continent, circling back to Central Earth before returning to Treasure Bottle Continent. Before Nanposa Continent, he would visit the New Rain Dragon Sect and perhaps the old site of the Great Wall of Swords, as well as the Earth Vein Ferry and the Hundred Thousand Mountains, which he had never visited.

Yu Lu and Xie Xie, former citizens of the ill-fated Lu Dynasty, seemed to have resolved their inner turmoil by jointly establishing a kingdom in Tongye Continent, and now they would revisit their homeland.

The old kingdom was like an old friend, and the travelers came from the south, with apricot blossoms on their coats.

As he saw them off the mountain, Chen Ping’an revealed a heavenly secret: “Bai Shang, the foremost swordsman of Beiju Luzhou, who recently ascended, colluded with Tian Wan of the Zhuyu Peak of the Zhengyang Mountain to seize the sword aura of Treasure Bottle Continent. Tian Wan was also Zou Zi’s junior sister, and Bai Shang too, as I have recently surmised. Bai Shang was once Lu Yue, a member of the Lu family of Fulu Street in the former Liuzhu Grotto-Heaven, and an unofficial disciple of Master Three Mountains Nine Marquises. He was a sword cultivator. I suspect that the founding of the Song Dynasty of Great Li, the suzerain state of your Lu Dynasty, may have been the work of a reincarnated Lu Yue, who possessed secret arts that allowed him to remember his past lives. For some reason, he went to Beiju Luzhou, adopted the name Bai Shang, and devoted himself to swordsmanship, seeking ascension through unorthodox methods.”

The unofficial and official disciples of Master Three Mountains Nine Marquises had been revealed to Chen Ping’an by Feng Yi at the Fire God Temple in the capital, while the knowledge that Bai Shang was “from the same village” as Lu Yue came from Li Xisheng in the heavens.

Xie Xie sneered. “No wonder the old sword immortal established a sect but did not expand it, with only Xu Xuan as his disciple. He must have feared his master would blame him for indiscriminately accepting disciples.”

Chen Ping’an teased, “Is that how you speak of Bai, who might be your Lu Dynasty’s founder?”

Xie Xie’s eyes were cold. “The Lu Dynasty fell, and he did not lift a finger.”

When Treasure Bottle Continent was a backward continent and the Song Dynasty was far from its later power, had Bai Shang been willing to draw his sword and descend south, he could have protected the Lu Dynasty, even if he could not help the Lu descendants conquer Great Li, which boasted Cui Chan.

Chen Ping’an shook his head, refusing to salt her wounds with logic.

Xie Xie knew such basic truths as, “Immortals abandon the mortal world; descendants have their own destiny.” She was simply aggrieved and needed to complain.

Yu Lu remained silent, with a complicated expression.

Chen Ping’an smiled. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He patted Yu Lu’s shoulder. “You truly were my partner on watch. You are brilliant like a fool.”

Yu Lu laughed heartily. “Thank you.”

Xie Xie said, “You’re weird!”

Hearing the smirks, Xie Xie glared. “Chen Ping’an, why are you being sarcastic?!”

Chen Ping’an said, “I am Master Cui’s teacher. How dare you speak to your grand-teacher that way?”

Yu Lu nudged him, and Xie Xie hurried down the mountain.

Chen Ping’an rubbed his shoulder and pointed his chin at Xie Xie. “Well?”

Yu Lu asked, “Well?”

Chen Ping’an pouted. “Six out of seven senses.”

Yu Lu chuckled. “You know. You understand best.”

* * *

The sable-hatted girl summoned an ancient ship of unknown origins, faster than a flowing cloud, carrying Li Huai and his servant overseas.

Official duties called; she could not refuse. But she must return quickly, in case Xiao Mo returned during her absence.

Xie Gou sat on the railing, the wind in her face, holding onto her sable hat as her hair fluttered.

Ten thousand years ago, her cultivation talent was too great. She needed something to occupy herself. After pondering, she had an inspiration: she would find a Taoist partner!

The little fox, Wei Taizhen, stood by the railing, listening to the youthful yet antiquated Xie Gou discuss the wonders of the mountains and rivers.

Suddenly, Xie Gou stood and turned, smiling. “Why do you look so miserable?”

The hunched, blind old man chuckled. “Look at yourself first.”

Xie Gou was speechless.

The old blind man said, “Bai Jing, you need not protect him. I appreciate the thought, but I shall bring my disciple home myself.”

Xie Gou said, “You cannot stop me.”

The old blind man stroked his chin. “Suit yourself.”

He held a favorable impression of Bai Jing.

Sensing the disturbance, Li Huai emerged from the house, finally managing to call out, “Teacher.”

The old blind man frowned, tilting his head. “What?”

Li Huai rolled his eyes. “Fine. You prefer to be called old blind man, don’t you?”

Only then did the old blind man nod. “Good disciple.”

Xie Gou covered her face. What a pair!

The Immortal Commandant Taoist, who always maintained his dignity through nonsense, had finally achieved true triumph in the eyes of his disciple.

Deliberately withholding the reason, he led Lin Feijing on foot to the foot of Fragrant Fire Mountain, cleared his throat, struck a solemn pose, and pointed to the high peak. “Feijing, this is Fragrant Fire Mountain. We shall establish our Taoist temple here, which you can consider as our own mountain.”

Lin Feijing was astonished. Fallen Mountain had convened a meeting of its ancestral hall, but his master had no status, let alone an invitation to the meeting.

How could they be “opening a peak?”

The Immortal Commandant smiled mysteriously. “I am not one to boast. Heroes do not dwell on past glories. You may not know this, but before me, there were only two regular and temporary gatekeepers of Fallen Mountain: Zheng Dafeng and Cao Qinglang. One watched Chen as he grew up, and the other, Cao Qinglang, is Chen’s prized student and the peak master of the lower sect on Tongye Continent. So while registered disciples of the upper and lower mountains come and go, year after year, it must be increasingly glorious, only the gatekeepers, not to brag, cannot truly come from ordinary people.”

It was not entirely true, but neither was it a complete fabrication.

Lin Feijing was shocked. “Fallen Mountain has a lower sect?!”

His master and Jia the Immortal had kept it hidden so well.

“What is there to be surprised about? Wait until Fallen Mountain becomes a proper ancestral court before you are truly amazed,” the Immortal Commandant chided.

Lin Feijing was impressed. “Indeed, my master’s heart is well-cultivated. I was too impatient.”

The Immortal Commandant waved his sleeve and said, “Let’s ascend.”

The two began discussing how to build their “Taoist temple.”

They decided to proceed according to their means. The grandeur of the temple depended on their coin.

The disciple, Lin Feijing, would offer all his savings to build his master a proper residence, especially a study with a hint of immortality.

The master, on the other hand, planned to build several rest stops along the mountain path, named Three Li Pavilion, Five Li Pavilion, and Ten Li Pavilion.

Easy to remember!

* * *

Liu Chicheng and his friends arrived later than expected, dressed plainly.

It seemed seeing that Most Triumphant Man at the ferry had frightened Master Liu.

The accounts of Fallen Mountain still held a surplus of nearly four thousand Grain Rain coins, so repaying the debt of three thousand Grain Rain coins to White Emperor City was no issue. But because Chen Ping’an had made a “profit without capital” with Han Qiaose, he was in no hurry to settle the debt all at once.

Liu Chicheng changed out of his pink Taoist robe into scholar’s garb and brought his new friends from the intercontinental ship to visit Fallen Mountain and Chen Ping’an.

With money in hand, he was not worried.

His brother had given him that bag, and Liu Chicheng suspected it contained Lesser Heat coins, rather than the Grain Rain variety.

Liu Chicheng did not ask for much from this trip, just to be able to visit the mountain. He did not expect to drink, either.

Unexpectedly, Chen, the Mountain Master, clad in a blue robe and cloth shoes, was waiting at the mountain gate.

The chronicler was busy again, pleased that the visitors were not above the fifth realm. He was delighted to see two Dragon Gate cultivators!

The White-Haired Child was exceptionally happy, smiling sincerely, nearly overwhelming the guests.

Was Fallen Mountain truly so hospitable?! Could it be because of Master Liu?

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Gu Can is busy being Liu Xiyang’s best man. The Dragon Spring Sword Sect has many affairs, so he returned without waiting for his uncle.”

Though Liu Chicheng was skeptical, he felt better. Even if it was a lie, it was a courtesy from his friend, Chen. How many were so honored?

They ascended the mountain together, exchanging pleasantries. Chen did not neglect anyone, answering every question and deftly connecting them with his own stories.

Liu Chicheng realized Chen knew more about their sects and masters than they did.

Chen Ping’an led the guests to Zhu Lian’s house, where wine had been prepared.

They saw a black-clad girl with a cloth bag, and two tables had been placed together in the courtyard, with benches.

“She is our mountain guardian, the Right Protector, Zhou Mili.”

Chen Ping’an patted her head, smiling. “The wine is from our own store, Dumb Lake wine.”

As he had guests, he did not bring his golden shoulder pole and green bamboo staff. Zhou had practiced several ways to introduce herself, such as adopting a rough voice and cupping her fist in a traditional greeting, but in the end, she became shy and only said, “Greetings, immortals.”

Other than Liu Chicheng, the other immortals from various continents hastily returned the greeting, calling her Protector Zhou.

As for the wine, how could they not have heard of Dumb Lake wine, famous since the Great Wall of Swords!

Overjoyed, they cautiously raised their bowls, took a sip, and savored the taste. It lived up to its reputation!

Zhou scratched her face, overwhelmed. But with Chen by her side, she feared nothing.

Seeing the seemingly unremarkable Zhou take a seat, the visitors’ hearts trembled.

She was truly a guardian of Fallen Mountain, seated beside the Hidden Official!

Was she an immortal above the Jade Purity realm?!

In a typical sect, mountain guardians were superior to other guardians, but to sit alongside the sect leader in public?

Zhou tugged on her teacher’s sleeve. Chen shook his head, indicating it was unnecessary.

These people were only Liu’s friends, so there was no need for Zhou to exert herself.

Zhou raised her head, frowning. Was this appropriate?

Chen smiled and nodded. On matters of hospitality, she had the highest authority.

Zhou grinned and began distributing melon seeds.

To make meaningless chatter meaningful was a cultivation in itself.

Liu Chicheng sighed. He could hardly imagine that the simple youth from his memories had become so skilled in social graces.

His own cultivation had truly gone to the dogs.

Chen Ping’an did not have much time to waste, so someone volunteered to explore Fallen Mountain.

A blue-clad boy peeked into the courtyard, seeking the old immortals of *Roadside Tales*. He was shocked to see Liu of White Emperor City. Chen Lingjun fled, for Liu was highly ranked in the book. Ordinarily, a Jade Purity cultivator should not warrant such respect, but this was a disciple of the Dragon Slayer, so a Jade Purity immortal was to be regarded as a heaven immortal!

Chen Lingjun would avoid anyone associated with Chen Qingliu. To see one on the street would be courting death.

Liu Chicheng noticed the furtive boy but dismissed him as odd.

If Liu knew the truth, even a part of it—such as the boy calling his brother “nephew,” and his brother had not objected…

His Taoist heart would surely crumble.

* * *

Liu Chicheng stayed behind to offer the bag of money.

Chen Ping’an had been waiting for this.

Xie Gou had mentioned it earlier, saying she could not see through it.

A camouflage that could fool Xie Gou must be the work of Zheng Juzhong.

Inside the room, Chen Ping’an opened the bag. It was not filled with golden bronze coins, but ordinary copper coins, of various quality and material.

They were the coins minted in the founding year of various dynasties, and the coins minted in the final years of those dynasties. Like the beginning and end.

Liu Chicheng was mortified.

Liu instinctively sought to clarify, “Chen, it was given to me by my brother. I never opened it. I thought it was valuable, so I offered it to you. It’s the truth! If I lie, I will move the Glazed Pavilion out of White Emperor City!”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “I know it was sent by Master Zheng and then deliberately given to me through you. There is no reason to doubt it.”

Liu Chicheng sighed in relief, then asked, “What is the purpose of this?”

Chen Ping’an said, “Have you heard the saying, ‘Of all virtues, filial piety is foremost; of all vices, lust is worst’?”

Liu Chicheng was confused. What did that have to do with his brother and the coins?

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Foremost, first.”

Liu Chicheng remained puzzled. What did that have to do with virtue, vice, filial piety, and lust?

Chen Ping’an took out his pipe, loaded it with tobacco made by Zhu Lian, and explained, “All matters have a beginning and an end. These coins minted in the founding years are a reminder not to forget the origin, to remember those who helped pave the way. Later achievements, high or low, are partly due to those unacknowledged people and things. The coins from the final years are a warning not to grow arrogant. It’s akin to a game of chess, finally reaching the final stages, but a single wrong move can lead to defeat. To finish well, you must understand that the last mile is the hardest. The remainder of the coins represent this.”

Liu Chicheng nodded. His brother was indeed profound.

Chen Ping’an smiled. “It also involves family matters, which you would not find interesting…”

Liu Chicheng interrupted. “I am interested!”

Chen Ping’an hesitated, then said, “The old abbot of the Eastern Sea Guan Daoist temple used a falling leaf to remind me that the old site of the blessed land, ‘Wellmouth,’ can still be connected to the Mirage City of the Great Spring Dynasty.”

Liu Chicheng fell silent. It was indeed uninteresting.

Chen Ping’an had other thoughts.

Pei Qian had said she saw an old Taoist reach from the sky and pull down a sun.

Pei Qian, Pei Qian, the former little soot sprite, had been named “Money.”

Liu Chicheng wanted to chat, but seeing Chen lost in thought, he remained silent.

* * *

The mountain became quiet and still.

A woman resided in a secluded yet not lonely dwelling.

She did not know sorrow; her hair was dressed with jasper and emerald.

The law-keeper of Fallen Mountain was quite different at home.

Chang Ming had several novels by her side, with tales of romance and beauty. She smiled, relaxed, and watched the ephemeral illusions. The boxes on the table held various pastries and candied fruits.

She did not like to chat with people, and no one seemed to want to visit her. But it was fine with her. She was content in her quiet. She needed no cultivation, just a way to pass the time.

At the recent gathering at Jise Peak, the shop assistant Shi Rou from Riding Dragon Lane, the disciples of Jia the Immortal, even Bai Deng and others were present, having been summoned to Jise Peak. It seemed they would be captured in the picture, as a remembrance. At first, Chang Ming did not understand her lord’s purpose. But when she saw the grinning youth in blue and the girl in pink, she understood.

It was the middle-aged man who was neither cultivator nor martial artist, from the Great Wall of Swords, who arrived at Fallen Mountain as a youth, around the same age as Jiang Qu.

Now, his hair was greying.

Youth was fleeting.

Every reunion was but a comma. And all reunions were but a comma.

Life was a series of gatherings and farewells. The more one cultivated, the more one parted ways and never met again.

Zheng Dafeng had put his arm around Zhao Shuxia’s shoulder. Zhu Lian, nearly ancient, stood by him.

Dong Shui, who had opened a wonton shop beside the mountain road to the shrine, had invited several business partners to cook. Three men and two women, young in appearance, were cultivators who had filled the void left by the fleeing nobles and sects of Great Li.

The former nobles wanted to return and seize their territory, but the newcomers would not allow it.

A young noble sneered. “Rotten grass is no good for cattle. Do they really have the face to return? Dong, how does Great Li see it? Business is business, after all.”

Dong Shui said, “We will not open any doors for them, at least not yet.”

A woman waved her hand over the rising steam. “I heard they have found footholds in the southern countries, supporting puppets in an attempt to regain their status and negotiate with the Song Dynasty.”

The man beside her chewed on his wontons and said, “They run when things go bad, and return when there is profit. Nothing strange. Even if the Song Dynasty lost half its territory, it would not give those bastards a chance. If I were the new Great Li strategist, I would expel them all.”

Someone countered, “Then go be the Great Li strategist.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Even Chen will not take it.”

“Dong, another bowl! Do you have cilantro?”

“I hate cilantro! A bottle of old vinegar, Dong.”

“The position of Great Li strategist is always vacant, so the southern countries dare to be so bold.”

“The Iron Talisman River Temple is crowded with those seeking love, Dong. Is it truly so effective? Like the Buried River Water God Temple in Tongye Continent, so many go there for prayers. Two of my friends went all the way to the Great Spring Dynasty. It’s effective!”

Dong Shui returned from the kitchen, adding cilantro and bringing a bottle of vinegar. “I don’t know. I have never been. Yang Hua has been promoted to the Great River Lord. Who knows what the new river god is like?”

Lin Shouyi seemed an outsider.

He was a Jade Purity cultivator and had served as the priest of the Qi River Temple.

The streets of Chuzhou were lined with shops and lit with lanterns.

The mountain had a shrine to its mountain god, and there incense smoke rose.

“Dong, are you familiar with Chen? Could you introduce me? A sister in my family yearns for the illusory wonders of Fallen Mountain.”

“Dong, you know I never ask favors, but I need you to take me to Fallen Mountain. I have a mission! My senior sister has gone mad, and upon hearing I was passing through Chuzhou, demanded I ask the Hidden Official for an autograph on a book of his youthful exploits…”

Dong Shui said, “I advise you not to mention it to Chen.”

Lin Shouyi smiled. It was indeed asking for trouble.

The mountain wind blew. Warm wontons soothed the heart.

A young man sang, “Have you not seen heroes in despair? The mountain is shattered, the wind scatters the ashes! The guests of old are gone.”

A woman tapped the table, singing, “Have you not seen heroes fallen? Skinny horses sell swords! Today’s triumph is fleeting.”

“Have you not seen beauties tired of dress? Silver hair, hating the mirror! Regret marrying a merchant instead of the champion scholar.”

“Have you not seen generals in armor, roaring to the skies? Unless they dream of youth once more, they would exchange glory for youth.”

* * *

Zhong Qian could not stay away and soon returned to Fallen Mountain, going to the old chef for supper.

She brought back some gossip.

The peak meeting at the Great Wood Temple of Autumn Qi Lake was said to be a pinnacle of humanity, and the attendees were all said to be bound not to say anything.

However, new phrases emerged:

“Young hero, draw your