Chen Ping’an smiled, his fingers flicking his sword. The blade trembled, echoing with a dragon’s roar as rings of light rippled outwards, illuminating his face with vibrant energy, a sense of profound freedom washing over him.

Like a caged bird whose wings barely flutter before striking the bars, or a frog in a well seeing the sky as but a painted scroll, we, mutually loathing reflections of ourselves, could finally speak bold, heartfelt words to the world.

Upon hearing this, Jiang She did not sneer. Instead, a look of dawning understanding crossed his face. “Now, it all makes sense.”

Ascending mountains in search of immortality – is it not that which we fear that invariably comes to pass? For cultivators, the dread of even a single possibility can become a thousand.

Jiang She, alas, was not yet a being of the fifteenth realm. Unable to transcend the cycle, he remained subject to the rise and fall of tribulations, unavoidable. He glanced at Chen Ping’an, “For a martial man of such tender years, his attainments are truly remarkable.”

To win felt like a hollow victory, a contest unfairly won. To lose, however, would be a far worse calamity.

Conversely, this young swordsman, should he fall, would fall with glory. Should he triumph, the future course of the world would be irrevocably altered. What, then, would become of Zou, the one who claims to see the threads of fate?

Jiang She clicked his tongue, employing a subtle art to crush these thoughts and anxieties within the chambers of his heart, reshaping them into other contemplations.

This ascent to the heavens was a tribulation of war, a great path led astray, desiring mastery and occupation of the ancient Heavenly Court ruins. This was a gathering to strike down ambition, to prevent the veneration of the military above all else.

To be imprisoned for ten thousand years was another tribulation. Seemingly freed from its grasp, a far greater calamity loomed. As Jiang She’s extinguished Dao Heart flickered back to life, seeking to restore the military arts, he faced an overwhelming suppression, a shadow clinging to his every step.

Jiang She, the harbinger of calamity for the progenitor of the military arts, was, naturally, a grand opportunity for those who sought to seize it.

Of course, this high-stakes gamble was not a game for all to join. Common cultivators, those below the fourteenth realm, even those soaring in ascension, dared not approach too closely, lest their fragile lives be consumed by the echoes of calamity. And even cultivators of the fourteenth realm would likely keep their distance, watching from the sidelines. Who would willingly risk their own path, their own foundation sinking into mire, doomed to endless ruin?

Jiang She, frustrated, couldn’t help but curse under his breath, “Cui Chan, that scheming bastard!”

Earlier, he had even thanked Xiu Hu, acknowledging a debt. But now it seemed he was a fool, cheated of his coin, yet counting it out for the thief.

Beyond a few grumbles, Jiang She was loath to reveal more of his inner turmoil. To bicker with a dead man, to lock arms with a ghost, was a truly unbearable thought.

Jiang She had entertained countless schemes, envisioning those who sought to usurp his place upon his return to the mortal realm. Hidden Official Chen Ping’an had been among them, yet calculations revealed his likelihood to be slim.

The primary reason was not Chen Ping’an’s youth or current limitations, but his lack of such towering ambition.

Moreover, Chen Ping’an’s greatest adversaries lay in the White Jade City and Yu Dou, vendettas personal and profound.

Unexpectedly, Chen Ping’an changed his mind, withdrawing his sword from the field, allowing it to vanish, appearing near the towering pillar that connected heaven and earth in the northwest. Chen Ping’an slowly rolled up his sleeves, shaking out his wrists, and smiled. “Then, as you wish. I shall first test my skills, allowing the junior to experience the unparalleled strength of an eleventh-realm martial artist…”

Before Chen Ping’an could finish speaking, Jiang She was upon him, a fist smashing into his chest. Chen Ping’an’s robes and hair flew wildly as the sound of jade chimes echoed through the heavens, the sound of his bones shaking. Like a kite with a severed string, he flew back thousands of feet, golden blood seeping from his seven orifices, splattering upon the ground.

Jiang She, having struck true, paid no heed to the strange golden blood. In a flash, he overtook Chen Ping’an, his hands interlocking, his fingers like hooks, plunging straight into Chen Ping’an’s chest. With a savage yank, he tore the body asunder.

Jiang She squinted, wiping the spattered golden blood from his face, a hissing sound accompanying tendrils of smoke. He paid it no mind, surveying the area. The golden blood had not sullied the earth, but instead, had manifested wondrous phenomena, each a fragment of a great Dao. Where it fell, miniature mountains topped with jade palaces rose, hills the size of ant mounds. Rivers with hundreds of palace-filled water dwellings flowed, as thin as threads. Even stranger, within the towering peaks, the cry of celestial cranes echoed, sages imparted wisdom, and celestial maidens scattered flowers. In the winding rivers, in some parts, the waters flowed with the misty peace, in other parts the turbulent rapids threatened the fragile vessels. Jiang She scoffed, “Still playing the divine trickster? You dare claim to be the master of the heavens?”

Jiang She slightly expanded his spiritual sense, combining it with deduction and calculation, following the flow of time and the currents of spiritual energy, like a god touring his domain. Great strategists, those enshrined in history, were all masters of geography. Jiang She smiled thinly. “Found you, boy.” Without shrinking space, he drew back an imaginary bow, a gesture of a full moon. His fingers released, and the ‘arrow’ was as thick as a well, and its path resembled that of a great dragon across the land.

At a certain location, as if thousands of mirrors were shattered by the single arrow, countless shards of glass flew, a breathtaking brilliance blinding the eye.

Chen Ping’an had first created an array of sturdy fist-formed astral energy, using a technique from the Iron Cavalry Thrust Formation from the Iron Fist Manual to slow the arrow’s momentum, then attempted to intercept the arrow with a normal Iron Cavalry Thrust. It was futile. Not only was his fist pulverized, but his entire arm was shattered… Standing there, Chen Ping’an was now missing an arm, surrounded by golden blood that had transformed into a field of golden flowers, tall and short, swaying in the wind, like the gardens of immortals.

The power of an eleventh-realm fist was indeed insurmountable.

Chen Ping’an remained motionless, expressionless, as millions of golden threads flowed from his severed shoulder, restoring the limb in the blink of an eye.

As expected, the path of martial divinity was the most direct, considered a “pure” path in ancient times, while cultivating immortality was a roundabout, impure deviation.

Simply put, the fists and feet of the eleventh realm were unstoppable. However, in today’s battle, Jiang She using it to fight against half of Chen Ping’an seemed ineffective.

Having verified his suspicions, Chen Ping’an felt relieved. He responded in kind, “I should also express some slight embarrassment on your behalf, Senior.”

Jiang She dismissed it, asking, “I heard you possess a unique fist technique, called the God-Man Drumming Style, learned from Cui Cheng of Baoping Continent. Is it anything remarkable?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “It is most remarkable.”

Jiang She chuckled. “Grandmaster Chen, you don’t truly believe the eleventh realm possesses only this much power, do you?”

Chen Ping’an asked, puzzled, “What else is there?”

Jiang She calmly replied, “Without a doubt, it’s a fine fist. But if Cui Cheng were here, I could teach him the true God-Man Drumming Style.”

Rumor had it that Chen Ping’an, at the Sword Qi Great Wall, had neglected his duties as the second steward, creating the Hundred Sword Immortal and Two Hundred Sword Immortal Seal Manuals.

For ten thousand years, Jiang She had resided in the mountains, observing the mortal realm. Should one compile a manual of a hundred fists from the prosperous martial arts world, Cui Cheng could be included for two or three.

Chen Ping’an raised an eyebrow. He wanted to let the progenitor of the military arts experience the simple language of his hometown, but as the words reached his lips, he changed his tone, “We shall see.”

Jiang She tsked. “Such belated awareness. No wonder you lost four matches to Cao Ci, not an ounce of injustice.”

Though Jiang She made no visible movements, Chen Ping’an was on high alert, assuming a martial stance, delivering a punch towards the horizon.

It turned out Jiang She’s first blow had already employed the God-Man Drumming Style.

Vast astral energy, like a dense sea of clouds, was pressed down by the hand of a celestial being, falling to meet the earth.

Moments later, except for the ground where Chen Ping’an stood, the surrounding dozens of kilometers had sunk seven or eight zhang, the fissures and ravines all marks of palm joints and hand lines.

Chen Ping’an raised his hand to wipe his face, shaking his head to pour out the blood from his ears.

A single punch possessed the force of a heavenly tribulation.

Chen Ping’an took a deep breath. It wasn’t the pain that was unbearable, as such injuries were truly nothing.

It was the suffocating feeling of seeing a fist as if it were the heavens.

Jiang She coldly said, “It would be forgivable if fourteen-realm or ascension-stage cultivators, unfamiliar with the martial arts, underestimated the eleventh realm. But you are a martial artist of the Returning to Truth stage, approaching perfection. You should be familiar with the intricacies of the martial path, and yet you dare to be careless?”

“Has that hag Feng Yi, hiding in the Great Li capital, not told you how heavy Jiang She’s fists were on the path to heaven? And how did that cart driver for Nan Zan receive two punches that caused the first crack to appear in his golden body?”

As he spoke, Jiang She still stood at a distance, uttering a series of more than a dozen punches in a single breath, leaving Chen Ping’an with no chance to dodge, only to receive each blow, enduring them with his physique.

Jiang She shook his head. “You and Cui Cheng ultimately possess only the physiques of the Returning to Truth Stage. You cannot support the true meaning of such techniques, unable to truly develop and expand upon them.”

“Do you think I am stealing the fist?”

Jiang She wore a sneering expression, answering himself. “It’s just that ten thousand years later, a martial artist named Cui happened to have the same thought as I did.”

After thirty-odd blows, Chen Ping’an’s pristine, immeasurable golden body shattered on the spot. Even as he reformed his body in the distance, more than twenty blows arrived.

Clusters of golden light scattered and converged, and large pits and muffled thunder rumbled across the earth.

In another battlefield, against another opponent, would he not be able to kill an ascension cultivator like reaping grass?

Jiang She seemed bored, listless, and yawned.

Disregarding the state of the battlefield, Jiang She turned to look at the long sword, asking the biggest question in his mind, “What was the former sovereign of the Heavenly Court thinking?”

—

In a rustic village schoolhouse.

Well-fed and full of wine, Jiang Shangzhen lay on a rattan chair, waving a palm-leaf fan like the old cook, and smiled softly, “Ning Ji, your origins are not ordinary.”

Ning Ji was surprised, unsure why Mr. Jiang would bring up this topic, and hesitated to speak.

After spending these days together, Ning Ji genuinely admired Mr. Jiang’s ability to blend in with the local customs, chatting for hours with farmers and village women, with his legs crossed, cracking jokes. Even the village dogs were willing to follow Mr. Jiang around.

Ning Ji had been to Fallen Mountain and heard some things. Back here, he nearly forgot all of Mr. Jiang’s titles and reputation in the mountains.

Jiang Shangzhen continued, “Can you understand what I mean when I say that?”

Ning Ji nodded.

Jiang Shangzhen deliberately tried to get to the bottom of the issue, “Then I’m curious. How do you understand it? Let’s see if your thoughts align with my guesses.”

Ning Ji hesitated for a moment, but chose to be honest, “If you were just taking me in as a student, I might not think much. At most, I’d think that kind Mr. Jiang had taken pity on me, and that I was lucky to have met you. But when the headmaster of White Jade City, Lu, offered himself as my ‘little master,’ I knew it couldn’t be that simple.”

Jiang Shangzhen hummed in agreement. “So, in order to take you as a student, our Mountain Master Chen took on a significant responsibility and was involved in considerable karmic implications. As such, there are bound to be some unexpected developments.”

Ning Ji was silent.

“Don’t worry, don’t be anxious or nervous. The reason I’m telling you this is not to tell you to study hard and cultivate diligently so as not to waste your talent. Nor is it to place a burden on you, as if Ning Ji’s future must be lived more diligently to be worthy of Chen Ping’an’s choice. It’s not that at all. To be honest, if I had that in mind and Chen Ping’an found out, he would beat the crap out of me… And I wouldn’t be able to be the chief retainer anymore.”

Perhaps it was because Jiang Shangzhen’s words were humorous, but Ning Ji grinned, and his mood lightened a bit.

Jiang Shangzhen continued, “It’s only so that a young man whose fate was previously rough but has finally been given a chance, in the future, when encountering matters that he finds unfair or inexplicable, can perhaps feel less aggrieved, can tell himself that he should be more patient, observe more, and think more. Even if he can’t figure it out, there will always be one or two people who can help him in the future. Or he can just complain to his teacher.”

Ning Ji nodded, “I will remember that.”

Jiang Shangzhen sat up and handed the palm-leaf fan to Ning Ji, saying, “I’ll have to go on a long trip.”

Ning Ji asked softly, “Mr. Jiang is going to…?”

Jiang Shangzhen smiled. “To do something big that shouldn’t be spread.”

Ning Ji became worried about Mr. Jiang and hesitated to speak again.

Jiang Shangzhen said, “Your teacher told me something strange back then. He said that precisely because of this, I should protect you well. I can barely understand this way of thinking, but I definitely can’t do it.”

“It’s just because I think Jiang Shangzhen is unique in the world, that I’m not like anyone else and no one is like me, but Chen Ping’an thinks he’s like many old men, that many young men will be like him.”

Standing next to the rattan chair and Ning Ji, Jiang Shangzhen gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I can’t even begin to understand that.”

Standing in this rickety world, hiding in the safe and secure heartland.

Perhaps each of us has a home in our heart, big or small.

The road outside the door, wide or narrow, leading to the distance, is probably called a dream.

Before leaving, Jiang Shangzhen asked, “Ning Ji, tell me. I’m clearly a different kind of person from your teacher, so how did we get together? And how are we on such good terms?”

Ning Ji shook his head. “Mr. Jiang, please allow me to think about it? When you return to the schoolhouse to teach, I will tell you the answer?”

Jiang Shangzhen laughed. “Think about what? Don’t you already have the answer? If I’m not mistaken, it’s just one word: Money!”

—

Yuan Ying deliberately lagged behind the group, keeping a long distance between her and the others. Walking alone on the road, wildflowers bloomed with great beauty, and their fragrance filled the air. Yuan Ying lifted her embroidered shoes and gently brushed against a patch of small, delicate yellow flowers. She occasionally turned back as if waiting for someone to catch up.

She was from the Poetry and Leisure Blessed Land of the Azure Underworld, and her two instructors were both members of the Great Way. Her elder master, Liu Qi, and her second master, Cao Zu, were both her teachers and those who raised her.

Sure enough, Liu Qi soon appeared, with the extraordinary demeanor of a white-robed celestial official. His expression was gentle as he encouraged his direct disciple, whom he treated as his own daughter. There wasn’t much to discuss regarding cultivation matters, as Yuan Ying’s talent was like breathing for an ordinary scholar.

Liu Qi took the initiative to talk about the elusive Night Voyage Ship, giving Yuan Ying the opportunity to travel on it, perhaps to visit the Barred City and Spiritual Rhinoceros City.

Yuan Ying teased, “Elder Master, why don’t you and Second Master join our sect? It would be more lively.”

Liu Qi looked up at the team ahead and shook his head, saying nothing.

Besides Zhang Fenghai, who was a stable cultivator of the fourteenth realm, there was also Wu Xingku, ranked among the top ten martial artists of the Azure Underworld.

And Lu Bixia, one of the top ten candidates, served as the ancestral master of discipline.

And the ancestral master of the Immortal Staff Sect of Yongzhou, Shi Xingyuan, whose Dao name was “Cloud Control.” She was in charge of the sect’s finances. Her realm wasn’t high, but her authority was great.

Even with so few people, no one dared to underestimate this sect.

Up ahead, the deputy sect master tried to incite the sect master, “Sect Master, if we just take out Bai Chang of the Northern Juqu Continent, we’ll be the sect with the fewest people! Doesn’t that tempt you?”

Seeing that the sect master was unmoved, Lu Tai continued to egg him on, “I heard he only recently reached the ascension realm. What if Bai Chang is a sword cultivator? After all, his realm is unstable. With all of us going up there, wouldn’t the Great Sword Immortal Bai lose his composure? Once his Dao heart is disrupted, Brother Xingku can smash him with his big fist, and then Leader Lu can follow up with a Daoist art. Then I can take advantage of the chaos and strike his heart, killing him in one blow…”

Though he hadn’t known him for long, Wu Mingshi admired Lu Tai’s audacity and his eccentric way of speaking. At the same time, he admired Zhang Fenghai’s magnanimity. How could he endure someone chattering like that in his ear every day without getting annoyed?

Zhang Fenghai smiled. “Just ignore it, and eventually you’ll get used to it. If I don’t respond, I can see how many thousands of words he can rattle off in one breath, like listening to a storyteller without having to pay.”

Wu Mingshi nodded with a smile. “That is indeed a good method.”

Shi Xingyuan rolled her eyes. “Vice Sect Master Lu, say fewer nonsense and talk about something serious.”

Even when traveling far from home, crossing the world, Shi Xingyuan still dressed like she was in the Misty Cave of the White Jade City, a slim woman with a dark complexion, a wooden hairpin in her hair, and a cloth skirt and cotton shoes. She looked like a young woman who had toiled in the countryside all her life. Standing among this powerful team of immortals, Shi Xingyuan was strikingly out of place.

Lu Tai complained, “Don’t omit the ‘vice’ when addressing official titles. Don’t you understand officialdom?”

Shi Xingyuan was helpless. She said to Zhang Fenghai in her heart, “Sect Master, why don’t you establish a sect rule that simply forbids Lu Tai from speaking?”

Zhang Fenghai also ignored him.

Lu Tai coughed a few times, cleared his throat, and began to slowly tell an ancient story, “In ancient times, the gods and deities of heaven and earth were unfathomable, so many shamans appeared in the mortal realm. They were responsible for pleasing the gods, presiding over sacrifices, and reciting hymns. They were the god-receivers who explained the will of heaven and earth, interpreting the joys and sorrows of the heavens for us. But because we humans were too weak, we were often captured and killed by the powerful demons to be eaten. Early humans had almost no power to resist, leading to a lack of incense offerings. The old Heavenly Court gods felt that this was unacceptable. So, a series of thunder gods came to the mortal realm, bringing vast heavenly might, killing the stubborn demons. Their corpses piled up like mountains, but this was only a temporary solution.”

“What to do?”

“Either slay all the man-eating demons, or make humans a little… bigger. In later generations, there was the contention between classical and modern in Confucian classics. Similarly, there were different kinds of people. For example, we all belong to the category of modern people, while the founding father of the military arts and his generation of old men were undoubtedly the ‘ancients.’ The gods began to grant us a stronger body and gave us more souls. The one soul and two spirits of the ancients became the three souls and six spirits of modern people.”

Lu Bixia asked, “Isn’t it three souls and seven spirits?”

Lu Tai smiled. “The last spirit was found by ancient Daoists after countless hardships and was not a gift from the gods.”

Shi Xingyuan realized, “No wonder later generations offer incense in temples in sets of three, six, or nine.”

Lu Tai glared at her. “I didn’t say that! Can’t it be like the seals on paintings and calligraphy, using odd numbers to supplement the yang?”

Lu Tai quickly clasped his hands together, recited some words, and then said seriously, “Literary scholars pour out their hearts and souls, and great scholars write books and biographies, all of which are described as a single petal of incense.”

When he said the word “capture” earlier, Lu Tai deliberately glanced at Wu Mingshi.

Lu Tai turned to look at Li Huai and asked with a smile, “Suppose a river of time is an incense burner, Li Huai, guess what new incense is?”

Li Huai shook his head. He had always been bad at riddles and problem-solving.

Wu Xingku said, “Your seven spirits are the incense burner, and your three souls are the incense.”

Hearing such an unbelievable answer, Li Huai was shocked and couldn’t help but wonder, what did he mean by “your”?

Lu Tai said with a grin, “Dao Ancestor was the first to propose the Dao of Heaven and the Dao of Man. This led to the concept of ‘offering.’ As such, the gods of the ancient Heavenly Court were no longer the only orthodox source of the Dao of Heaven. ‘Dao of Heaven’ seemed to have a new and old form. The paths of cultivation for alchemists, Daoists, scholars, and the various schools of thought now had a foundation.”

“They had a path.”

“And it was a legitimate path. Afterwards, the little Confucius, namely our Saint of Rites, severed the connection between heaven and earth and cast nine cauldrons on the mountain.”

“Before that, how to breathe, eat, sleep, how to walk, think, and where thoughts came from and went… such simple questions became the most difficult. Over time, it became alchemy, and those who understood it practiced the Dao. During this period, of course, spells fell like rain, a timely help. A group of ancient ‘Daoists’ who had cultivated human form even broke through the bottleneck of the Golden Body Realm. From then on, they ascended to immortality, traveling far and wide, riding the gentle breeze and the clouds, flying higher than birds, admiring the scenery in the bright moon, and seeking enlightenment in the solar palace… They had the Mountain Peak Realm, three layers of the Reaching the Limit Realm, vigorous qi, returning to truth, and the arrival of the divine…”

Hearing this, Li Huai couldn’t help but ask softly, “The heavens didn’t care?”

Lu Tai sighed with feeling. “Cared. How could they not care.”

“If the ants got bigger, they were still ants. If Daoists and martial artists huddled together for warmth, they were still just an anthill. When the gods descended, they slaughtered the mortal realm until rivers of blood flowed, and all sentient beings trembled, not daring to cross the line.”

“Do you know how vast the human territory was at that time? The gods needed two ascension platforms as roads to descend to the mortal realm.”

“If martial arts and Daoist techniques have a common origin but different currents…”

After all, the wisps of incense smoke that rose from the mortal realm were all paths to the heavens.

Just then, Lu Tai was struck by lightning, his face turned pale, and he urgently reminded, “Not good! Ambush!”

Wu Mingshi couldn’t help but feel nervous. After all, anyone who dared to come here to cause trouble was either a fool seeking death or a top-tier expert.

In the distance, Yuan Ying was startled. Liu Qi smiled. “You really like this kind of person? Is he too unreliable?”

Seeing that her master looked so casual, she sighed in relief and said in her heart, “He’s too pessimistic. When I see him, I can’t help but feel sorry for him.”

Liu Qi nodded. “You do know Lu Tai well.”

In front of the road, a gaunt old man with a refined appearance and an unremarkable middle-aged man appeared out of nowhere, like a wealthy man and his porter.

Yuan Ying had two masters, and so did Lu Tai.

Lu Tai wasn’t surprised at all. The appearance of the two teachers was inevitable.

In the mountains, there were only a handful of people whose identity was known just by mentioning their surname.

Zou was one.

—

Jiang She had not changed a single breath of pure true energy.

From beginning to end, Chen Ping’an had no power to retaliate.

Countless golden blood splattered on the ground, turning a ruined ancient battlefield into a vibrant, flourishing place. First, there were mountains and rivers, then cities and passes rose, and then there were markets and people, like a lifelike human painting. It was just waiting for “people” to settle in, for the territory to become truly alive.

The only flaw was that there were more than seventy intersecting “ropes” stretched across the heavens, all of which were enduring astral energies, like iron wires cutting through the soft tofu of the sky and earth.

Jiang She merely frowned slightly. He had already thought highly of this person, but it seemed that he was even more difficult to deal with than expected. Could his earlier plans for a quick victory be thwarted?

He glanced at the long sword.

Whether the old sword hanging on the stone arch bridge in the Green Pearl Cave was the manifestation of the sword spirit or the true form of one of the Five Supremes, it wasn’t that important.

The beginning was always the hardest part. Once a connection was made, it would be a path to the heavens that would never be abandoned.

As a native-born kiln worker, Chen Ping’an had obtained this opportunity, but in his subsequent cultivation journey, the sword had given its master far too few benefits, too few to count.

One of the foundations of Jiang She’s military arts was the idea that the right timing, location, and people, and everything in between must bend to one’s will.

Failing to make full use of a “sword spirit” was simply a waste of resources.

It was like a poor family with nothing to eat having a ten-thousand-gold piece of scholarly treasure, using it as decoration year after year. What was the point? Stomachs rumbling in hunger, simply feasting the eyes?

In Jiang She’s view, perhaps there was a disagreement between Qi Jingchun and Cui Chan, the two senior brothers of the Sage of Culture lineage. Each held a side, and their learning was difficult to reconcile.

Qi Jingchun, who persuaded the “sword spirit” to recognize Chen Ping’an as its master, was a pure Confucian scholar who wished to prevent Chen Ping’an from being overly tainted by external objects and to maintain a distance between Chen Ping’an and the sword spirit. He set a sixty-year agreement, making the latter an invisible talisman. Its purpose was not to manifest, but to deter a small group of mountain-top cultivators from acting recklessly based on their realm and cultivation. Anyone who dared to break the rules would be stripped of what little they had left.

In the process, of course, there were those who didn’t believe in this. So, the resurgent ancestor of the Tongye Sect in the ascension realm became an example to remind those behind the scenes.

Even Du Mao’s immortal remains were now private property of Fallen Mountain. How could the registered cultivators of the Tongye Sect Ancestral Hall not know the inside story? And who would dare say anything?

Anyone who knew a little about Fallen Mountain and its Mountain Master Chen would know why Chen Ping’an never referred to Qi Jingchun as his senior brother, but always respectfully called him Mr. Qi.

Qi Jingchun was to Chen Ping’an as a well-read tutor was to a student, teaching the skills of imperial examinations in a scholarly family. What the former taught and the latter learned were all aimed at becoming a sage. Then one day, the slightly older young man said he no longer wanted to study, and ran up the mountain, becoming an outlaw, rebelling, saying he wanted to usurp the throne and become emperor himself.

It was because everyone knew the great influence Qi Jingchun had on Chen Ping’an that Jiang She felt so awkward hearing Chen Ping’an’s bold declaration of “establishing a sect and becoming a patriarch.”

If the same words were spoken by the equally young Cao Ci, Jiang She wouldn’t have cared. At most, he would have been a little surprised.

Cui Chan advocated for practical learning, blending various schools of thought. The Book Scroll Lake forced Chen Ping’an to lose a golden cultural gall. Not only could he not read ten thousand books and travel ten thousand miles, but even if he read millions of books and traveled throughout the world, he would completely lose the possibility of cultivating an own natal character. Later, at the Sword Qi Great Wall, Chen Ping’an merged with half of the Sword Qi Great Wall, completely losing the opportunity to travel as an inferior spirit and transform into a yang spirit.

The key was that Cui Chan’s attitude towards Chen Ping’an was always the same: like some official evaluations of the Beijing Patrol Plan, his ability was too low, his aptitude was too poor, and his Dao heart was weak and useless.

When the truth came out, would Cui Chan and Qi Jingchun’s actions all be smoke and mirrors?

In his field of vision, Chen Ping’an regained his original appearance, as if guessing what Jiang She was thinking. Chen Ping’an smiled. “You may be mistaken. Among our Saint of Culture lineage, the one with the worst temper is Mr. Qi. The one with the best personality and patience is actually Senior Brother Cui.”

“For example, dismantling Zheng Yang Mountain was something I learned from Senior Brother Cui. The success of asking the sword at Zheng Yang Mountain, followed by erecting a stele, was learned from Mr. Qi.”

As he spoke, the mountain and river scenes melted away like flowing water, merging with their master.

Jiang She had seen too many magical arts and was not surprised. Chen Ping’an’s trick was not too frightening. Although it did not consume Dao practices and spiritual energy, it consumed the mind.

“Did you not feel that there were too few opportunities to ask martial artists in the Reaching the Limit Realm in your life? Today, I will let you eat your fill, eat until you throw up.”

“Pei Bei, Zhang Tiaoxia, Li Er, Song Changjing, Wu Shu, Ye Yunyun, Wang Fushuo, let each of them strike you with their peak powers a few times. Is that enough?”

Those martial artists in the Reaching the Limit Realm, who had been named and ordered by Jiang She, lined up between him and Chen Ping’an.

Like a battlefield, with spears and halberds, upright and invincible. The formation of Reaching the Limit was a tidal wave, pushing back ten thousand riders.

It seemed that Chen Ping’an had been waiting for this moment to appear.

He gently exhaled, steadied his mind, and began to run forward.

Jiang She had not obtained the truth from the “sword-bearer” and was curious about something. He couldn’t help but ask, “Chen Qingdu isn’t a stingy person. You’ve done so many things for him, and you’re also the son-in-law of half the Sword Qi Great Wall. Given Chen Qingdu’s habit of owing money, wine, and swords but never favors, and since you are a junior who has caught his eye, he should have given you something. This gift must be generous. Why are you hiding it? Are you afraid that the fortune-tellers of White Jade City will calculate your secrets, causing you to lose the advantage in the next time you wield your sword, True Invincible?”

Speaking the words “True Invincible,” Jiang She laughed heartily. “True Invincible, what a great Dao name. Why didn’t Bai Jing take it?”

At this moment, Chen Ping’an naturally had no time to answer this question.

It was just that Jiang She had summoned more “Reaching the Limit Realm martial artists,” all of whom were top heroes of various eras, martial arts masters known throughout the world, each with their own invincible techniques.

Each of their punches was perfect and flawless.

Coincidentally, Jiang She only needed to expend a little mental energy and did not need to mobilize even a trace of heaven and earth’s spiritual energy.

Jiang She looked at the figure struggling on the battlefield, finding it increasingly uninteresting. “After all this time of practicing martial arts and fists, all you’ve gained is a physique, a tortoise shell. Is there even one or two punches that are your own?”

“You’re afraid of making mistakes, so you’re only following in the footsteps of your predecessors. You want to be carefree, but you have the nerve to daydream about surpassing Cao Ci?”

Jiang She saw Chen Ping’an have half his face blown off by a punch from “Pei Bei,” and was almost his neck broken by a mountain-top martial artist from the Savage history…

Jiang She shook his head, losing patience. “You, Chen Ping’an, dare to dream of killing Jiang She and falsely declaring the establishment of a sect and becoming a patriarch?!”

It was only because each Reaching the Limit Realm martial artist only delivered a few punches with the greatest weight and intent in their lives that Chen Ping’an was given a brief moment to catch his breath.

It seemed that the boy was still tough, and one could faintly hear him speaking in his hometown dialect.

Jiang She smiled. “Boy, showing off your fists in front of me, do you know what this is called? This is called…”

“Returning to your roots!”

On the battlefield, dust flew, blocking out the sky and the sun, gradually obscuring all the martial artists. Various fist intents converged, already solidified and thick as water.

Was Chen Ping’an hoping to hone his martial arts by taking punches, taking the opportunity to break through the bottleneck of the first layer of the Reaching the Limit Returning to Truth stage? He dared to be so reckless in a life-and-death battle, in a clash of Daos? Jiang She had already changed his position at some point. His expression was solemn as he lightly raised his long spear, “Break Formation.” Both man and weapon had not opened the formation in ten thousand years. Looking at the mustard-seed figure in the distance, the progenitor of the military arts seemed disappointed. Jiang She held the long spear and slowly moved forward, walking towards the increasingly clear battlefield. His expression was calm as he said, “In times without heroes, fools rise to fame, knowing nothing of the height of the heavens and the depth of the earth.”