The words of Master Chen resonated, and the Earthly Branch, no longer concealing their might, unleashed a tempest of arcane arts upon the ghostly foe. Ridiculed as mere “thugs” by Sui Lin, they proved their prowess with devastating offensives.

The Earthly Branch shifted formations once more, favoring offense above all else, while still maintaining a sturdy defense. Their personal domains surged with vital energy, each incantation demanding a king’s ransom.

Yuan Huajing, in a surge of power, summoned “Firefall,” one of his soul-bound swords. It carved a burning arc in the heavens, conjuring a raging river of magma that surged toward the wraith.

Yu Yu, her mind intertwined with a heroic ancient swordsman, guided the ethereal youth – her miniature spirit form – to cast forth a net of justice, a spell woven with threads of light, destined to ensnare the wicked specter.

Gou Cun, his very essence transformed, stood astride the mountaintop, a titan of earth and magic. His lips parted, and from within emerged a radiant golden pearl, a miniature sun arcing towards the ethereal banshee that plagued the sky.

Gai Yan, nestled within her silken, opulent tent, witnessed the display. Though violent, the sights were, undeniably, beautiful.

The chance to spar with a Fourteenth Realm cultivator was rare, and worth a few cuts and bruises. Though Han Zhoujin’s ancestral peak was ravaged, a tapestry of ruin, she had not restored it. Each furrow, each rent in the rock made by Xian’s furious assault, was a glyph of profound truth, a divine inscription worth more than all the coin in the empire!

Yu Yu’s strategy had been to stall for Master Chen, a purely defensive posture. Though fate had almost allowed the vengeful ghost to escape, none dared accuse her of misjudgment. The Twelve shared a silent communion, their thoughts laid bare. And Master Chen, their examiner… their rage was a force to be feared. Such a thought brought only darkness and torment.

Lu Hui, a scholar by trade, had suffered the harshest rebuke from the divine side of Chen Ping’an, no comparison.

And so Lu Hui endured, his spirit crumbling under the weight of the assault. Daemons, he feared, would make their lair within the fissures of his spirit.

In desperation, he begged Yuan Huajing to carve away slivers of his memory, a surgeon of the soul. Gai Yan, in turn, painted vivid illusions over the wounds.

Xian, with a scornful laugh, reached forth and crushed the Firefall sword light between her fingers.

“A child,” she scoffed, “playing at swordsmanship with a twig?”

She exhaled a gentle breath, shattering the Dragon Tiger Mountain talisman, a net woven with the sacred words of celestial masters.

“Unless the Tian Shi himself stands here with his seal and sword, your petty parlor tricks are no match for true Dao.”

Yan, with subtle intention, glanced at the Earthly Branch’s sole warrior, Zhou Haijing.

The cycle of life and death, birth and rebirth, was a constant for the Earthly Branch, a thing to be accepted. What troubled Zhou Haijing was Master Chen’s earlier actions.

Seeing Zhou Haijing’s inaction, Xian turned her gaze to Gou Cun. The beast, she saw, was honing a golden pearl with stolen sunlight and moonlight.

The Ghost-thing narrowed her eyes against the light but stood firm. Expanding her spectral form, she seized the golden orb, shattering it into a shower of golden sparks. Her hand, however, began to crumble to ash where the light had touched.

With a flick of her wrist, the damaged palm mended itself. The loss of power was insignificant.

Three separate attacks blended into a bizarre symphony of destruction. Each falling spark of sunlight froze in the air, igniting into a crimson flame. Threads of light connected them, weaving a web that rose to ensnare Xian.

Disdaining flight, Xian allowed the net to constrict her. From her hand sprang a sword of black ink. She spun the blade, and the very fabric of time shimmered. With a single stroke, she sundered the triune net. She became a streak of iridescent energy, a thousand Xians shimmering across the battlefield. Gou Cun, atop the mountain, saw her snow-white face, a breath away from death.

Yuan Huajing attempted to intercept, but an illusory Xian reached him first, severing his head.

Another Xian seized the miniature spirit swordsman and crushed him like a gnat. Yu Yu, the vessel of the spirit, screamed as blood streamed from her eyes and ears.

Xian inhaled the dust of the spirit, a whirlwind of intent. The essence, carrying a trace of righteous sword intent, descended into a dark, silent abyss, forever trapped.

Gou Cun, the mountain titan, was the last to fall, cleaved in two by her blade. But, by design, he was not slain. She grounded her sword, and the entire mountaintop became her domain. As Gou Cun prepared to shatter his golden core, Xian pierced it with her blade, a force controlled to perfection. She then imprisoned his spirit, using techniques stolen from the River of Time. Since the Earthly Branch could return from death, what would stop her from holding them in a state between life and death, cutting them off from the world with her enchantments?

The Xians merged into one. Xian held Yuan Huajing’s severed head aloft, scanning the field, awaiting the Earthly Branch’s next move.

Against a Fourteenth Realm horror, only a true Ascendant had any hope. These mortals had performed admirably.

Scholar Cai Yushan, a paper-thin immortal, failed so easily in the face of the truly Ascended Master Chen.

A mirror hung in the sky, a bright moon reflecting the land below.

Xian looked up. A thread of energy snaked down from the moon, becoming a phantom version of herself. A sword arced towards the real Xian.

With a confused scowl, Xian cleaved the illusion in two. It was eerily real, but too weak. Confronting it was like looking into a flawed reflection.

More illusory Xians descended from the moon, each a mirror image. Xian cut down three Yuan Infant-stage wraiths, then a fourth, and a fifth.

Truth and illusion blurred as the phantoms fell like snowflakes.

A figure in green robes appeared at the foot of the ancestral peak of the T’ung-po blessed land. He ascended slowly, stepping over the furrows Han Zhoujin had left untouched.

He gathered the lingering will Xian had left, the energy of her attack, and wove it into a shimmering cloak of darkness.

He did not disturb Han Zhoujin but traveled to the training ground of the swordsman Song Xu, a threshing floor in the countryside. ‘Food is the staff of life; when the granary is full, people will understand good manners.’

Song Xu smiled. “Master Chen, Gai Yan asks if dragging this fight into the morning will earn us a ‘good’ on the examination?”

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “Drag it into the day after tomorrow, and you’ll get an ‘excellent.'”

This interception was meant to aid the Earthly Branch. Chen Ping’an didn’t expect them to kill the wraith. This was war games to allow the Branch to mature, to stand on their own.

The longer the conflict stretched, the more Song Xu and the others could learn. Both tangible and intangible gains would grow.

Song Xu’s leadership did not come from his noble birth.

He commanded two soul-bound swords: “Stagecoach” and “Nursery Rhyme,” the latter named by Cui Chan himself.

“Stagecoach” wove a secret road free from defilement for each member of the Earthly Branch, twelve waystations where their spirits could rest. With Sui Lin’s temporal manipulation, the Shramana’s meditation, and Yuan Huajing’s mirrored “Backward Flow,” they were like travelers on the River of Time: well-provisioned and with safe passage.

They would not die, nor would their cultivation suffer.

They would never lack funds to compensate for losses of energy.

The second blade, “Nursery Rhyme,” felt inappropriate to Song Xu, a royal prince.

Rhymes and songs were a scourge of any regime, a source of anxiety for any ruler.

Chen Ping’an seized a sliver of dark energy from the fields, storing it in his sleeve.

The Earthly Branch was prepared to use the Mirror of Stillness, a thing that had almost caused a catastrophe the last time it was used.

Chen Ping’an prepared to leave to gather stray power.

Song Xu hesitated, then said, “Master Chen, Song Geng is not a bad man. He is indecisive and somewhat weak.”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “A crown prince who hides to vent his rage, who lashes out at silk and satin – yes, he is weak and unsuited for command.”

A royal uncle said the throne should be left vacant. The Imperial Preceptor said the crown prince was unsuited for command…

Song Xu said, “My brother can be molded.”

Chen Ping’an said, “If the world were at peace, and he were allowed to mature, he might become a steward of the realm.”

Song Xu said, “Please be patient with my brother. He will learn from the Angler Pond incident.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Have you considered leaving the Earthly Branch? I can arrange a clean exit for you. The loss would not weaken the overall strength of the Branch.”

Song Xu shook his head. “I have endured, Master Chen. I have truly endured.”

This was likely the closest Prince Song Xu would ever get to the throne, and he would reject it.

Chen Ping’an said, “Very well. Remain a stalwart leader of the Earthly Branch.”

Song Xu silently released the Nursery Rhyme blade.

Chen Ping’an said, “You must make the sword more subtle. Xian has decided she will escape from here, so she will overlook the blade.”

He recalled a sword cultivator of the Wildlands. Her soul-bound blade was equally unnoticeable, though her method was different: extreme subtlety. Song Xu’s blade became intangible, a diffuse sound only those who listened closely could hear. The Earthly Branch, a storm of spells, could mask the blade’s sound.

Song Xu said, “I have tried. It is difficult.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Feng Yi offered no solution?”

Song Xu said, “She avoided the topic. After two attempts, I did not want to bother her.”

Chen Ping’an said, “You need to be more shameless.”

Song Xu said, “Master Chen, you aided Han Zhoujin and Yu Yu. Help me, too. Be a messenger to Feng Yi.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Get an ‘excellent’ first.”

The blade’s power was that of an ancient Collector of Rhymes, wandering the land to collect songs and understand the customs of the people.

The blade could absorb celestial energies, sword intent, and fortune of both civilization and warfare, and even the fate of a nation!

But Cui Chan had warned Song Xu against greed. The blade might develop its own will, becoming master.

Bai Ye, in the past, had fallen when Zhou Mi had drained him of vitality.

The Earthly Branch was young and could not compare to the demon lords.

Xian was no match for the best of the human realm.

The Earthly Branch was united, while the demon lords were individual actors. Their union was only a matter of proximity.

Song Xu asked, “Shouldn’t there only be one Fourteenth Realm ghost? The young sectmaster of the Azure Cloud World has already staked his claim. Xian…?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “It is strange.”

The Fourteenth Realm contender had used Xiao Pu of the Bamboo Basket Hall and the name “Chen” as a ferry to assassinate Chen Ping’an to gain precedence.

Has Xu Jun run into trouble in the Azure Cloud World? It was unlikely; his power should be at its zenith.

Li Ba or Wan Yan Lao Jing speculated that Xian, who went by the name Gan Qinglu, was a ghost that was the manifestation of a Dao.

It made sense. Xian was a ghost in the Fourteenth Realm, but her path of apotheosis did not follow that of Xu Jun.

But why had Xian confined herself to the territory of the Great Shou Dynasty? Was she, like Yang Zhi, bound by the Confucian Temple? Or were there other secrets?

Chen Ping’an asked, “Does the blade have a limit to its appetite?”

Song Xu shook his head. “It must, but I have never seen it reached.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Too hasty.”

He should have handed Song Xu over to Xiao Mo to fill the blade with energy in isolation.

Song Xu said, “Master Chen has done enough.”

Chen Ping’an smiled.

In a century or two, the Earthly Branch would have many cultivators in the Upper Five Realms.

An Ascendant swordsman and a warrior in the Reversion of the Dao Realm would make the Jewel Bottle Continent nearly the equal of a Fourteenth Realm cultivator, a pillar of the Great Li Dynasty.

Song Xu and the others had the talent. If they could overcome their inner daemons, breaking into the Jade Purity Realm would be easy. Chen Ping’an had already taken steps to resolve those problems.

The only issue was Zhou Haijing. Unless she could reach the Godhood Level in the Reversion of the Dao Realm, her lifespan would be limited.

Chen Ping’an said, “If I were facing you, I would bind the Nursery Rhyme blade…”

A small world became a fixed unity. The fate of the two sides depended on the Nursery Rhyme blade.

Song Xu blurted out, “Are you on their side? What do you mean by that?”

Xian had resented Chen Ping’an. She struck out at the mountain of the Sword Practitioner, then cleaved Han Zhoujin’s peak in two. When Han Zhoujin activated a hidden protection, she had merely taken a few more blows.

Chen Ping’an arrived at the entrance of an ancient grotto, the training ground of Yuan Huajing, the swordsman whose head had been severed.

With his hands clasped behind him, Chen Ping’an flicked a finger. An invisible sword trembled, scattering crimson light.

Two demonkin stood at the grotto, once servants of Yuan Huajing, but fallen and dimwitted. They greeted Chen Ping’an as Lord Hidden.

Before Chen Ping’an had entered the capital of Great Li, the eleven cultivators of the Earthly Branch had divided into two groups, led by Yuan Huajing and Song Xu.

But they still cooperated. Yuan Huajing reaped the heads in the Great Dux Capital, using the blade Night Wanderer to bolster his power.

He had two former Jade Purity-level demonkin slaves.

He had spent time in the Sword Worship Terrace. He had not fully transformed his Dao-body, but his spirit was refreshed.

The Earthly Branch was baffled. Was it really that effective?

Yuan Huajing’s dilemma was similar to that of Mi Yu, who had first arrived on the Verdant Vastness World.

He possessed two soul-bound swords: Night Wanderer and Firefall.

The power of Night Wanderer was oppressive. Those slain by the blade would become Yuan Huajing’s puppets.

Their cultivation would be impaired, diminished by a Realm or two.

Their minds would also be dulled. They could not improve. It was difficult enough to return them to their original form, much less allow them to improve beyond it.

Yuan Huajing had imagined ascending through the ranks. He could improve Night Wanderer to make the puppets smarter, but the stones used to hone a soul-bound blade were rare. Would the Great Li treasury possess them? Without Xiu Hu, who knew where they were kept?

Firefall, as the name suggested, could summon a waterfall of fire from the sky, a deluge of True Samadhi Fire. The blade could also stoke the inner energies of the target. It was effective against cultivators, like setting a fire in their homes. It was less effective against the solid bodies of warriors, a slow burn like the sun beating down on mountains.

Sword cultivators were often affected by the powers of their blades. Yuan Huajing was assertive, while Song Xu was gentle.

Firefall was a natural counter to wraiths, but the difference in power was too great.

Yuan Huajing possessed another sword, but it could not be called a soul-bound blade.

It was named Backward Flow and had been crafted by Cui Chan, mirroring Zuo You’s blade.

Chen Ping’an looked up. Xian, enraged, struck at the mirror in the sky, only to strike at the River of Time and reveal the bones beneath the earth.

The downed Yuan Huajing, the spirit of the fallen youth, and a golden pearl all remained trapped in Xian’s domain…

Not wishing to force Master Chen to guard the bodies, Song Xu ordered a retreat. Yu Yu sighed as she was swept away.

Xian was stunned. Yu Yu, along with Yuan Huajing and Gou Cun, were dead.

A river of time swept through them, returning the three members of the Earthly Branch to life.

Each member of the Branch kept one another’s soul-lamps.

Xian stood, her black hair blowing wildly. The Fourteenth Realm wraith was enraged.

The reborn Yuan Huajing exited the grotto as his two servant guardians bowed.

Chen Ping’an pondered.

Yuan Huajing said, “Any of us can snuff out another’s lamp and relight it.”

Chen Ping’an said, “In the end, Xian’s power was not enough. She could not kill all twelve of you instantly.”

Yuan Huajing nodded. “Preceptor Cui said the Earthly Branch’s strength was its ability to survive and annoy the enemy to death.”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “There are flaws. You must improve.”

Yuan Huajing summoned Firefall, attempting to boil the wraith’s inner energy. “Thank you.”

Chen Ping’an said, “We each do what we must. No thanks is necessary. I believe the future of the Jewel Bottle Continent belongs to you.”

Yuan Huajing wasn’t sure whether this was a genuine compliment or a veiled jibe.

He sent a thought: “Can I break through by slaying the remnant of a god with Night Wanderer?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “Do not attempt it. Even if you succeed, transfer the puppet to Sui Lin. He can pretend to be a god more effectively. Your spirit will be tainted. I do not want the Earthly Branch to turn against you and force them to kill a monster that is neither human nor god.”

Yuan Huajing was disappointed. He had wanted to rename Night Wanderer Soul Arrest, feeling it fit the blade better.

The slaying of a god remnant had been a milestone in his plans. Perhaps he could do it later to advance from Jade Purity to Immortal.

Old Deaf, who had been a godlike Ascendant, was generous and had been willing to speak candidly with Yuan Huajing, helping the swordsman greatly.

If Yuan Huajing had visited earlier, Lao Long hadn’t been giving his lessons on Flower Shadow Peak and he might not have been as receptive. Had he visited later, Lao Long would have moved away from the Sword Worship Terrace. Yuan Huajing would not have been comfortable sitting in a class with children.

So, his visit to the Sword Worship Terrace had been fated.

Old Deaf had said it was good to rename the sword, similar to a titled cultivator modifying their Daoist name. The heavens might grant a response.

Old Deaf worried he had led the younger man astray. So, he had the younger man unleash the blade for him to see it in action. He declared that the Avoid-Summer Palace would have given the blade an Upper B ranking in the Sword Qi Great Wall. As Yuan Huajing had prepared to commit to the change, a girl with a mink cap had cursed them out, telling them they were stupid and would lose something better.

“Good, Old Gan, you must be a spy from the Wildlands. Explain yourself, or I will send you to the chief enforcer!”

Lao Long explained, “If I were a Wildlands spy, I would not have come to Fallen Mountain, knowing Deputy Xie and Mister Xiao were here.”

Xie Gou said, “There is a ‘dead spy’ tactic in the books.”

Lao Long said, “The Mountain Lord had ‘convinced’ me to come here. I cannot be a spy.”

Xie Gou roared, “You mock me! You say my insight is inferior to that of the Blind Man! Since this is no longer official business, it is a private matter between you and me!”

One gave and one took as Yuan Huajing stood by, unable to do anything as he wasn’t even a guest of Fallen Mountain.

The mink-capped girl taught him nothing about swordsmanship. Xie Gou sometimes looked at him with pity.

Guild Lord Guo was on the Sword Worship Terrace, so Xie Gou took his sidekick, the white-haired boy, to visit the “headquarters.”

He became close enough to Yuan Huajing to ask him a Buddhist koan.

Yuan Huajing had been close to Buddhism, which was why he had met Chen Ping’an at the Temple of Discipline.

Xie Gou had asked, “A thread of Qi, dwindling Dao. Will it last?”

That question alone had advanced Yuan Huajing to a near-emptiness.

His bottleneck had grown, but it no longer deterred him. He felt immense joy.

He knew that if he could overcome this barrier, he would be as strong as the local Sword Qi Great Wall swordsmen.

He often sent letters to the Sword Worship Terrace to ask questions unrelated to cultivation, making sure to ask what he didn’t understand.

“Why do the heavens grant so many powers to the soul-bound swords of swordsmen?”

It was a stupid question from a student, but Xie Gou felt it was ingenious.

The three heads of the headquarters had a meeting. Xie Gou showed them the letter and asked, “Guild Lord Guo, what do we do?”

The Book Compiler said, “Easy. Pretend we didn’t get it. Say Old Gan intercepted the letter and ate it.”

In any case, the visit to the Sword Worship Terrace had given him a great deal. Which was why Yuan Huajing had to thank the Mountain Lord, even if he didn’t like it.

Gai Yan spoke up. “Yuan Huajing, how about a deal? The wraith’s Daoist power is mine, and you can have the body.”

Yuan Huajing did not respond.

Gai Yan said, “You can’t handle a Fourteenth Realm ghost! You’ll become its puppet. And don’t think the ‘dead thing’ is worthless. Having an Ascendant-level slave is enough to keep you busy for years.”

Yuan Huajing, whose mind was preoccupied with his sword, frowned. “Kill her first.”

Gai Yan, seated on her bed, ran a hand across her silken robes, accentuating her curves. “Master Chen, convince this blockhead. He listens to you. He admires you the most out of all of us.”

Yuan Huajing shouted, “Do not speak so wildly!”

Gai Yan pouted. “Master Chen won’t give me the chance.”

Song Xu coughed. Gai Yan shouldn’t cause trouble when they were fighting. If Master Chen punished one, he punished all of them.

Sui Lin and Lu Hui rubbed their foreheads.

Chen Ping’an asked, “Do you have a suitable body?”

Yuan Huajing nodded. “A ninth-level warrior’s demonkin body. I’ve been waiting for a suitable puppet.”

Chen Ping’an had Yuan Huajing produce the body, then pulled Cai Yushan from the illusion and stuffed him into the flesh.

Without prompting, Yuan Huajing decapitated “Cai Yushan,” making him a puppet.

Yuan Huajing exclaimed, “Highly intelligent.”

Chen Ping’an, ignoring Yuan Huajing’s preparations, walked to a staging ground of an ancient ruin, casual and relaxed, his hands in his sleeves, climbing the steps.

Yu Yu stood there, holding a bamboo tube containing command flags and rusty arrows.

Yu Yu, Xu.

A military strategist. Her cultivation was low, but she was the tactician of the Earthly Branch. She considered herself a “war dog.”

She was a high-ranking member of the Ma Dung Yu clan. Empress Yu Mian would have to call her “aunt.”

Yu Yu had been one of the Earthly Branch members least afraid of Chen Ping’an, for she was upright and forthright. Even when Chen Ping’an defeated them again and again, she didn’t flinch. Her strategy wasn’t the problem; it was Chen Ping’an who was too cunning.

But a recent incident had changed things. A scion of the Yu clan, a scribe in the Imperial Preceptor’s office, had colluded to seize control of both halls, undermining the office while Chen Ping’an was still absent.

He had been discovered by Rong Yu and Fu Qing and thrown into prison.

The Yu family had held a meeting in their ancestral hall as an Imperial eunuch awaited the results. The family had retreated from the border army. Their sons would be outcasts for twenty to thirty years.

And so Yu Yu was now afraid of Chen Ping’an.

She saw him in his green robes and hesitated.

Her “swordman bodyguard” stood on her shoulder, turning to glare at the one who had broken his master’s spirit.

Chen Ping’an said, “Dereliction of duty. You have guts. You dare disregard a Fourteenth Realm cultivator. Separating from her spirit, what does your Dao reach? The Fifteenth Realm?”

Yu Yu’s face paled.

Chen Ping’an said, “The Ma Dung Yu family produces talent.”

Yu Yu was distressed but patted her bodyguard to tell him to calm down. No one wanted to upset Chen Ping’an.

Chen Ping’an’s words had cut deep.

He had referred to the “young talent” who had brought the Yu family to ruin. He had made a fool of himself, staggering as he walked in the Imperial Preceptor’s office, not acting.

He had also been unable to commit suicide after his family had implored him to at least take responsibility for his actions.

Yu Yu had almost killed him in prison.

Had Song Xu not intervened, Yu Yu would have ended up in prison. The expedition to slay the ghost was meant to atone for her transgression.

Chen Ping’an said, “You should learn from Song Xu. He understands. The slightest bit of narrowness in a person who is so broad-minded can be devastating.”

Yu Yu was shocked. She had expected a tirade, not words of comfort. She sniffled, like she had drunk a large jar of wine. She nodded.

Chen Ping’an rubbed her head. “Why fret so much? Just focus on cultivation. If you want to protect someone, learn to dodge the rain first, so you can hold an umbrella for them.”

Yu Yu smiled. Her heart lifted. She raised her eyebrow at Gai Yan and Han Zhoujin, as if to say, “Are you jealous?”

Han Zhoujin was determined to confess her feelings to that blockhead. Gai Yan made a show of being heartbroken.

Chen Ping’an murmured, “Do not rush. Let the shoulders of the youth carry willows and the spring grass.”

Yu Yu asked, “Could you kill her with a single blow?”

Chen Ping’an said, “I am only an Ascendant, not a Fifteenth Realm cultivator.”

Lu Hui’s training ground was a towering library, with cranes circling the clouds.

Chen Ping’an ascended to gaze over the land.

Lu Hui, You.

A scholar who had studied at the Old Cliff Academy, a Daoist who, in the Azure Cloud World, had been listed as a bandit by the White Jade Capital, an instructor of a single word.

Lu Hui did not know he was an illegitimate son of the Lu clan, and that he was related to Empress Nan Zan.

Lu Shen had gone to visit Empress Nan Zan to permanently remove “Lu Jiang” from the family tree.

He saw how terrified Lu Yu looked and couldn’t help but smile. “Have you met your ancestor? Will you join the family or will you consult Minister Cao?”

Lu Hui said, “I dared not hide it. I claimed a cheap ancestor. No loss in it.”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “Take what you can get.”

Lu Hui said, “Lu Shen didn’t deceive me?”

Chen Ping’an said, “He wouldn’t dare.”

Lu Hui was relieved. He hadn’t been like that before. He had been upright. After his beating, he had become unrestrained, drinking and speaking as he pleased.

Lu Shen had made sure to speak to Lu Hui. As a farewell gift, he had given him a Daoist verse tailored to him.

Lu Shen had told Lu Hui to get into the Upper Five Realms soon. He had asked Lu Hui to meet him at the Heavenly Capital Peak. Lu Hui was hesitant, but Lu Shen had said that the Imperial Preceptor knew about it.

Chen Ping’an asked, “Aren’t you afraid that Lu Shen will punish you for revealing the family secrets? Cao Minister may not be able to stop him.”

Lu Hui said, “Then it means Lu Shen misjudged me. It’s none of my business.”

Chen Ping’an patted him on the shoulder. “You have gained the essence of scholarship.”

Lu Hui said, “I had no choice but to change.”

Chen Ping’an glanced at Sui Lin. Gai Yan giggled. “Break through quickly.”

Sui Lin said, “I’m not a genius like Master Chen.”

Gai Yan giggled. “Even a dull blade shines if you sharpen it enough.”

Zhou Haijing fingered her hairpin. “Slow is better for men.”

Chen Ping’an walked through the lines as if they weren’t there and sat with a young boy in front of a temple.

His Dharma Name was Hou Jue, Chen. He was a Shramana in a plain robe. He liked to cover his shaved head. He did not ask the Buddhas to help him achieve enlightenment, for that was a matter of personal effort, but he asked them to guide him to enlightenment.

The Shramana asked, “Master Chen, my master said Xiu Hu once said, ‘Temple Dharma isn’t magic. Burning incense is the real magic.’ What does it mean?”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Do you read books from other sects?”

The Shramana nodded vigorously. “Of course. There are many views that I have read and agreed with.”

Chen Ping’an said, “For example?”

The Shramana said, “Heavenly Dao is natural. Human Dao is the self.”

Chen Ping’an said, “You will become a steward of life.”

Chen Ping’an said, “The world fears thieves more than robbers. The Heavenly Dao despises robbers more than thieves. Ponder that.”

The Shramana nodded. “My Dharma Name is ‘Late Awakening.’ I don’t need to be too smart.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Great State Preceptor Tuan Ni is also named Yang Hou Jue. You should chat.”

The Shramana said he would.

One of the Earthly Branch’s strengths was Yuan Huajing’s mirrored blade, “Backward Flow.” It could do more than just assist Sui Lin.

If an enemy were heavily wounded and healed, Yuan Huajing could rewind them.

If an enemy used a trump card, he could rewind them and the Earthly Branch would have a chance to prepare.

They could observe and steal techniques.

The use of a Fourteenth Realm wraith as a practice partner had gone much better than Chen Ping’an had anticipated. They had been fighting evenly.

The figure in green stood on the mountaintop. Gou Cun had waited for him and then reverted to human form. He addressed Chen Ping’an more genuinely.

Gou Cun, Shen. A mountain spirit, a self-made cultivator. He had a cold expression, a bad temper, and never held back.

He wanted to be the Imperial Preceptor of a small country to forbid the consumption of dog meat.

He possessed an item that made him lucky with money.

Xiu Hu had called him a “poor ghost.” Yu Yu, with her wild ideas, had said that it was good to be a poor ghost because then they wouldn’t want to earn money too quickly. The Shramana spoke of giving Dharma and wealth. And so they anonymously did good deeds with the money. The Twelve were all connected. If one fell behind, it affected them all. If one excelled, it benefited them all, though the gains were divided proportionally.

Gou Cun asked, “Master Chen, Preceptor Cui said I would be the Imperial Preceptor of a small country when I reach Jade Purity. Is that true?”

Cui Chan had said that if he reached the Upper Five Realms, he would gain a bit of the Jewel Bottle Continent’s luck. He might reach the Immortal Realm.

Chen Ping’an nodded. “I will honor what Cui Chan has promised.”

The Great Li Dynasty had thirty-two vassal states. They would select a remote one for Gou Cun, and prepare some advisors for him.

The Earthly Branch had been too proud.

Now, Chen Ping’an had tailored the experience to the needs of each.

They had gained insights into the Dao.

He had Suilin study defensive arts. He had Gaiyan walk a path of shortcuts. Yuan Huajing had wanted to become an Immortal and create a host of puppet cultivators.

Chen Ping’an had always attacked Gou Cun first. He needed to subdue him first.

Gou Cun had been unhappy, but Zhou Haijing had said that was just “killing the familiar.”

The Mirror of Stillness could only replicate a Jade Purity cultivator.

When he became Jade Purity, he could mimic an Immortal. If he became an Immortal, he could mimic a blessed land.

Chen Ping’an was familiar with this knowledge.

Chen Ping’an had written a treatise on the separation of the sky and the waters, explaining the ancient views.

Chen Ping’an arrived at a mountain road shrouded in clouds and stopped in a roadside pavilion. A cultivator held an ancient mirror.

His name was Bitter Hand, Di.

A self-taught cultivator in the Gold Core Realm.

His path was more taboo than the necromancy of Gai Yan. He was a potential member of the Ten Fiends, a Mirror Peddler.

The number of Mirror Peddlers was too few to earn him the title.

He had nearly become Chen Ping’an’s “bitter hand.”

Chen Ping’an had used every trick to imprison the “him.” Bitter Hand’s Still Water Mirror had nearly ruined everything.

Chen Ping’an looked at the moon, with its circular inscriptions. They were set into the sky.

“A human’s heart is a square inch. The Heavenly Heart is a square zhang.”

“I see the mountains turn. The water stops.”

“People view the realm. What is real or not.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “How goes the progress?”

Bitter Hand nodded. “Almost.”

He was close to replicating a formless “Xian,” correcting the slightest deviations to get closer to the truth.

Once successful, “Xian” would become a character in the mirror, a blank slate with infinite possibilities.

Chen Ping’an said, “You can put away the Still Water Mirror.”

Bitter Hand did so without hesitation.

The other members of the Earthly Branch were invigorated.

Xian was still hanging in the sky, her black hair blowing.

Chen Ping’an found Zhou Haijing. “Ready?”

She silently nodded, removing her jewelry.

Zhou Haijing, Chou. A warrior, at the Mountain Peak Realm. One of the Four Great Masters of the Jewel Bottle Continent.

She came from a fishing village. Though she was fifty-seven years old, she still looked to be in her twenties.

Her technique was brutal. She “beat the tide” at the sea.

Her presence filled the last space on the Branch. She was the key to the branch, its true strength.

When Chen Ping’an arrived, she lost all of her humor.

Only a warrior could understand her state of mind.

No martial artist who aspired to the top dared not respect her.

Chen Ping’an said, “I can advance you a bit of martial fortune. You must repay it later. The future power of the Earthly Branch depends on you.”

Zhou Haijing nodded. “I will not disappoint Preceptor Chen!”

Chen Ping’an glanced up at Xian. “The wren builds its nest in the forest with but one branch.”

Xian glared at him.

Chen Ping’an said, “Greater is the sorrow of the heart than the sorrow of death.”

Xian said, “You are more pitiful.”

Zhou Haijing closed her eyes. The heavens rumbled as she breathed.

She began to ascend, her eyes turning gold. A third eye opened on her forehead. Her hand opened, revealing an iron spear.

Great paths converge.

Cui Chan built the framework. Chen Ping’an sewed and perfected it.

In the Azure Cloud World, Wu Shuangjiang created Yao Qing, who was nearly in the Fifteenth Realm.

Chen Ping’an had the ninth-level Zhou Haijing rise through the ranks to ascend to the first level of the Reversion of the Dao Realm, with many enchantments.

Song Xu sat on the wall