In a residence nestled within Peach Leaf Lane, a kind-faced old man sat upon a rattan chair on the veranda. Beside him sat a spirited and lovely maidservant named Tao Ya, dressed in goose-yellow trousers with patterned embroidery, covered by a light, emerald-green silk skirt. She listened to the old man’s stories while gently fanning him.

The old man suddenly spoke, “Tao Ya, is the wind dozing off again? I’m not trying to scare you, but in larger estates beyond this town, such laziness would be punished.”

There was no response. The old man, usually so lenient with his servants, was about to tease her further when his expression abruptly changed. He looked into the distance, his face solemn. Not only was the fan in the young maidservant’s hand still, but even the invisible breeze had ceased to stir. The old man quickly stilled his breath, focused his mind, and silently chanted an incantation, entering a meditative state to avoid needlessly depleting his cultivation during this brief reversal of the river of time. With a sigh, he realized that even the most disciplined and proper Qi Jingchun had broken his own rules to act. “Truly,” he thought, “a storm is brewing.”

Near the Iron Lock Well, a burly young man from out of town squatted, intently staring at the well’s pulley system. However, out of the corner of his eye, he surreptitiously glanced at the silhouette of a voluptuous village woman. She was bending over, drawing a bucket of water from the well. The astonishing curve of her hips and the heavy fullness of her breasts presented a figure of exaggerated lines. Her body radiated a wild energy, like ripe wheat, imbuing the otherwise ordinary woman with a unique charm. When the young man realized the surrounding environment had become eerily still, he remained motionless, but boldly gazed upon the alluring sight of the woman drawing water. He swallowed hard, then quickly shifted his position, changing his posture.

“No wonder Master always said women down the mountain are like tigers leaving the forest, their power greatly diminished,” he mused. “But if brought up the mountain, they become tigers ruling the roost, man-eaters. Master, after drinking, would always say that all the heroes under heaven were defeated by their own tigers that entered the mountain, without exception.” But the young man thought even a tiger that had left the forest was already formidable. The woman before him, for example, though plainly dressed, was so alluring that she made his heart itch. If she slapped him without a word, completely unreasonably, he knew he wouldn’t dare retaliate. Maybe if she smiled, he’d even smile along with her.

These thoughts made the young man disheartened. He glanced down at his crotch and cursed, “Spineless! No wonder you have no backbone!”

***

Inside a house in Mud Bottle Lane, Song Jixin was poring over a thick, old local gazetteer. He had discovered many patterns, such as that it was generally supplemented every sixty years, so he secretly nicknamed it “The Jiazi Record.” Another was that nearly no one ever returned to their hometown after being taken away by distant relatives in their youth. It seemed they didn’t like returning to their roots, a case of “flowers bloom inside the wall, but are fragrant outside.” Many family names branched out and grew into towering, deeply rooted trees, so Song Jixin also affectionately called it “The Book Beyond the Wall.”

The young man was currently reading a biographical entry about a man named Cao Xi. Brevity was another characteristic of this gazetteer, and Song Jixin had read it at least seven or eight times, so familiar with the book that he now only picked out bizarre and outlandish stories to read, treating them like legends and romances told by a storyteller. He paid no mind to the truth, for it was impossible to verify. He only remembered that before leaving town for Beijing to report on his duties, the man in official robes had come to him late at night, solemnly instructing him to memorize every name that appeared in the book, along with the hundreds and thousands of people and their ancestors’ roots in town, especially their connections to the Four Clans and Ten Families.

At this moment, Song Jixin was motionless, like the broken, dilapidated clay statues in the southeast of town, casually strewn in the grass and mud, unmoved by wind or rain. The sunlight streaming through the window and onto his desk remained unnaturally still.

Within the residence, the only beings able to move were the maidservant Zhi Gui and an inconspicuous lizard. She had sensed something amiss long ago. Her first thought was to go to the neighboring courtyard and berate the stoic-faced girl, but when she remembered the sword, she dismissed the tempting idea. She first went to her young master’s room, glanced at the page he was reading, and frowned at the name “Cao Xi.” She flipped through a few pages to the entry about “Xie Shi,” and smiled with delight. However, she quickly flipped the page back, lest she reveal a secret and expose herself. Over the years, her clever and calculating young master had merely been curious, suspecting her origin, but had never caught her with concrete evidence. She didn’t want to fail at the last moment, after all her efforts. She often accompanied her young master to the village school and thought some of the scholars’ words were hypocritical nonsense, like “to sacrifice life for righteousness,” while others were quite good, like “one who travels a hundred *li* considers ninety *li* as half,” perfectly explaining the principle.

The yellowish-brown lizard was lying on the threshold, sunbathing. As it became still, it reverted to its “true form.” In the light, it shimmered with color, its body a piece of flawless, translucent glass.

In the neighboring courtyard, the black-clothed girl Ning Yao had entered a profound state of embryonic breathing, not breathing through her nose or mouth, like an infant still in the womb, her spirit returning to its source, ceasing thought.

Inside its snow-white sheath, the flying sword felt as if it had been granted amnesty. It slowly emerged and flitted around its master, displaying the gentleness and intimacy of a pet bird and the beauty of a fluttering skirt. Its flight was not random, but like a spiritual talisman, creating an optimal *feng shui* environment for its healing master. As expected, the air around the girl, who showed no signs of breathing, surged into her body, like a whale drinking water, frantically absorbing the original spiritual energy of the world. At this moment, the town’s deathly stillness and the vibrant energy of this residence formed a stark contrast.

Outside the town, beside the southern creek,

A short, stocky man with thick eyebrows and piercing eyes, bare-chested and holding a hammer, was smithing iron. With each swing, sparks flew, filling the room with light.

Countless specks of fire darted around the empty room, creating a dazzling spectacle.

Each swing of the hammer created a picture.

Opposite the man stood a petite girl with a neat ponytail. She wore a yellow cowhide apron to protect herself from the sparks. Ordinary cotton clothing would easily be burned through.

After one swing, all the millions of sparks suddenly froze in place.

The girl with the ponytail frowned and asked, “Dad?”

The man said in a deep voice, “You hammer the sword bar. This is a good opportunity to temper your divine will.”

The girl put down the old sword bar, pushed aside the sparks on either side of her body, waving them away. The movement affected everything. The sparks, which should have been frozen in time, collided with each other, making the light in the room chaotic.

Compared to the old experts in town, who were like hidden dragons in the deep, concentrating their minds and entering meditation, the girl’s actions were rather domineering.

Especially when she took up the hammer, her movements were powerful and swift, even more wild and untamed than the experienced man.

Each strike of the hammer sent out sparks that did not disappear in the stillness, so with each strike, the sparks accumulated, forming a dense, shimmering cloud, like countless stars gathered in the air.

Within the sword-casting chamber, there were billions of sparks.

The man stared intently at the red-hot sword blank and sternly ordered, “Silently recite the Dragon-Shaking Chapter of the *Sword-Casting Sutra*!”

The girl’s momentum immediately waned. “Dad?” she said softly.

The man said irritably, “What is it?”

The girl’s momentum weakened further. “I didn’t eat much for lunch,” she said timidly. “I’m hungry, and I can’t hammer anymore.”

The man became even more annoyed. If he weren’t in the middle of casting a sword, he would have scolded her. “You’re always finding excuses when I ask you to recite… Damn it, your appetite is so big, it’s normal to be hungry. It’s not really an excuse…”

The girl smiled secretly. Though she said she was hungry, her hands didn’t slow down. In a flash of inspiration, she shouted and slammed the hammer down with all her might, exclaiming, as if possessed, “Come out!”

This strike sent out an extraordinary number of sparks, especially dazzling.

The man kept a straight face, but thought, “It’s done.”

***

In Gu Can’s courtyard, the woman slowly awoke, her head throbbing. With her child’s help, she sat back on the bench. The Intercepting River True Lord Liu Zhimao was resting with his eyes closed, his thumb and forefinger slowly moving.

The woman, Gu, sat her son beside her and asked softly, “Immortal Master, what happened?”

The old man didn’t open his eyes. “I’ve taken a good disciple,” he said. “You have a good son. Gu, just wait contentedly for your son to bring you honor.”

The woman was overjoyed, tears welling up in her eyes. She embraced her child and murmured, “His father, did you hear? Our Gu Can will surely have great achievements…”

Liu Zhimao suddenly made a surprised sound, opening his eyes and looking down at the lines in his palm. It seemed a new path had branched out, and he muttered to himself, “Why is this? It shouldn’t be. The boy isn’t dead. Instead, the immortal disciple died for no reason?”

The old man was forced to stand up and pace slowly around the courtyard, rapidly calculating. “Waste! To fall to a common boy! The millennium of reputation that Cloudglow Mountain painstakingly built up has been ruined.”

The woman said anxiously, “Immortal Elder, now that our Can’er has been accepted as a disciple, why not let Chen Pingan go?”

The old man shouted angrily, “Womanly benevolence! If you truly had a compassionate heart, you wouldn’t have thought of killing him when we first met. Now you’re pretending to be a Bodhisattva for me? Have you no shame?”

The woman’s face turned pale, and she dared not say another word.

Still not appeased, the old man pointed at the woman and cursed, “Ignorant village woman! Short-sighted! After Gu Can returns to Bookscroll Lake with me, you two can’t meet too often, so as not to hinder his cultivation. Do you have any objections?”

The woman quickly waved her hand. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The old man’s eyes were sinister.

The woman paused, quickly realizing what he meant, and put on a mournful face. “No objections,” she said pitifully, “absolutely no objections!”

The old man waved his sleeve angrily and snorted. “Enraging me!”

He had thought the woman had some unique charm and had briefly considered taking her as a personal maidservant, but she had shown herself to be so vulgar. She deserved to miss out on the chance to step into the path of cultivation.

The old man suddenly looked around, as if facing a great enemy. Sure enough, the world had been artificially frozen into a “Stillness.” Stillness was a type of lesser paradise, something that even Land Immortals and Golden Arhats couldn’t create.

This great power was unparalleled. Though it was largely due to that great formation, it was still awe-inspiring.

Imagine, as long as you were in this world, immortals, Buddhas, gods, demons, and monsters would all have to bow before you. What would that feel like?

Intercepting River True Lord Liu Zhimao dreamed of reaching such heights. Power for its own sake? To hell with that! Liu Zhimao wished he could bring the third-generation disciples of the Buddha, the Daoist Ancestor, and the Confucian Patriarch into his little paradise and, if not make them bow, at least sit with them as equals, addressing each other as peers.

Liu Zhimao suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood, and blood splattered from his palm, as if he had been slashed with a sharp weapon.

In his other hand, the white bowl involuntarily appeared, the water’s surface rippling chaotically, black lines darting around, slamming against the sides.

Without hesitation, the old man placed his palm on the back of his hand and, though a member of a side branch of Daoism, performed the Confucian bow, bending all the way to the ground, his voice trembling with sincerity. “Liu Zhimao, the island master of Green Gorge Island on Bookscroll Lake, beseeches Master Qi to have mercy on this junior’s sincere pursuit of the Dao. If I have offended you, I hope you will forgive my ignorance… Saints do not remember the faults of petty people!”

After a long time,

“Leave immediately!”

The four words exploded like spring thunder in the True Lord’s ears.

Liu Zhimao was overjoyed. “Master, don’t worry, this junior will take the Gu woman and her son and leave town immediately.”

The old man, who had been addressing himself as a junior, remembered something and asked carefully, “May I ask, Master, what should I do with these two bags of gold-infused copper coins?”

The authoritative voice replied, “One person and one object, just right for two opportunities. Leave them in the courtyard. You are not allowed to leave Bookscroll Lake for thirty years.”

Liu Zhimao breathed a sigh of relief. This time, he wasn’t so obsequious, and instead of a deliberate Confucian bow, he gave a solemn Daoist salute. “I dare not refuse the gift of the elder. This junior is eternally grateful for Master Qi’s great kindness!”

After that, Qi Jingchun’s voice didn’t reappear, and the Stillness quickly disappeared. Without saying another word, Liu Zhimao immediately told Gu to take Gu Can and leave town with him. As Gu was about to speak, Liu Zhimao gave her a fierce glare, frightening her into silence. Liu Zhimao took out two bags, and though he was reluctant, the Daoist from a side branch, who was determined to gain the title of True Lord, unhesitatingly placed them on the bench. Just as he reached the courtyard gate, Liu Zhimao suddenly asked, “Did you leave behind any old objects?”

Gu looked blank, but Gu Can immediately reminded her, “Didn’t Dad leave behind a treasure cabinet? The one hidden under the bed that’s gathering dust?”

Liu Zhimao’s eyes lit up. Without saying a word, he told the woman to lead the way so he could investigate.

Since the saint acknowledged that Gu Can himself was an opportunity, it meant that the child could take away his own opportunities.

As for the final ownership of these opportunities, in this town, even the Heavenly King would have to listen to Qi Jingchun. But once they reached Bookscroll Lake, that would be a different story.

Finally unsupervised, Gu Can waited for the two to enter the house, grabbed the two bags, gently unlatched the door, and ran towards the other end of Mud Bottle Lane.

Inside the house, the woman, Gu, knelt on the ground, reaching under the bed to move the box. The box wasn’t big, but it was very heavy, and she struggled, panting for breath.

Then, her plump buttocks were kicked hard by the Intercepting River True Lord. The old man teased, “Gu, you failed in your postnatal care, but even so, with that, you’d barely qualify as a second-class maidservant on Green Gorge Island, but a third-class one would be more than enough. I don’t like the look of you, but there are a few guest cultivators on Green Gorge Island who might like your type. You’ll have to try hard. Don’t be shy and miss out on a good opportunity.”

The woman’s body stiffened slightly, most of her still under the bed, making it impossible to see her expression.

***

At an intersection, Qi Jingchun said to Chen Pingan, “Cai Jinjian and Fu Nanhua will be dealt with by me. Now that you have this ancestral locust leaf, don’t take life lightly. Living well is the greatest repayment to your parents. As for the forces of Cloudglow Mountain, Old Dragon City, and Intercepting River True Lord, I can’t say they’ll never trouble you, but they definitely won’t come looking for you for ten years. If you’re lucky, you can remain a commoner and live peacefully for thirty years.”

Qi Jingchun smiled. “There’s no need to be wary of the town. Soon… very soon, there shouldn’t be any more schemes. If you want a stable life for the next twenty or thirty years, you might as well find a girl here, marry her, and settle down. If you want to leave town and see the real world, that’s also a good thing. Reading ten thousand books and traveling ten thousand *li* are things that we scholars must do. You’ll find that it’s difficult to read in town, but easy to walk. Outside, many scholars find it easy to buy, read, and collect books, but they don’t like to travel far, thinking it’s too hard. The so-called traveling with a book box is just a drive in the countryside.”

The boy said in surprise, “Master Qi, is walking considered hard work?”

Qi Jingchun laughed heartily. “Let’s not talk about outside of town. Just look around. How many of your peers in Blessing Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Lane run all over the mountains and fields like you do?”

The boy nodded. “That’s true.”

Qi Jingchun thought for a moment, then reached up and pulled out a jade hairpin from his hair, bent down, and handed it to the impoverished boy. “Consider it a farewell gift. It’s not a valuable item, let alone an immortal artifact. Don’t worry, just take it. Actually, I was once a boy from a poor alley, like you. I studied hard, experienced many hardships and trials, and, of course, had my share of opportunities before entering Cliffside Academy. The time I spent there, seeking knowledge from my master, was the happiest time of my life. When my master left the mountain, he gave me this hairpin as a form of expectation and encouragement. Unfortunately, looking back now, I haven’t done well over the years. I believe my master would be disappointed if he were still alive.”

The boy dared not accept such a gift.

This jade hairpin seemed to contain the friendship between Master Qi and his master. The sentiment was profound, and the gift was not light.

No matter how ignorant the boy was, he was still from a family that made imperial porcelain, so he had some appreciation for the quality of an object.

Qi Jingchun said gently, “If I keep it here, my master’s memento will be buried with me. It’s better to give it to you. Besides, you didn’t accept the reward for no reason. I stayed in town for nearly sixty years and had a small knot in my heart that I couldn’t untie. Unfortunately, my master has passed away, and I thought I would never find the answer, but you inadvertently helped me solve it. So, it’s appropriate in every way to give you this hairpin. Chen Pingan, I can only get you a locust leaf. I can’t give you any more opportunities.”

The boy took the ordinary jade hairpin with both hands and said sincerely, “Master has already done so much.”

Qi Jingchun smiled noncommittally, seeing that the boy had been persuaded to accept the hairpin. He felt relieved. The hairpin was indeed ordinary and unremarkable, but it was still his master’s memento, and it was good to give it to a boy worthy of the inscription on the hairpin.

So, Qi Jingchun finally instructed, “Chen Pingan, remember, no matter what happens in the future, don’t lose hope in this world.”