In a verdant valley, nestled beside a murmuring stream where water danced over moss-covered stones and verdant reeds stood in clustered clumps, lay a humble village school.

Here, Master Chen Ping’an, or so the villagers knew him, reclined upon a woven藤 armchair, a palm-leaf fan lazily stirring the air. His eyes were closed in meditative repose.

“The path is clear when day’s clouds have fled, and spring lingers long in the blue-lit nights by the stream.” He was fond of repeating the line to his students.

Zhao Shuxia, having finished his martial stances beneath the shade of an ancient elm, seated himself on a bamboo chair on the porch. He glanced at his master, the gently swaying fan barely masking the hint of a smile. A phrase of Master Zhu’s came unbidden to his mind: “Life’s span varies, not solely by fate’s decree, but by nurturing body and spirit, one may extend their years.”

Chen Ping’an, eyes still closed, spoke without opening them. “If you wish to laugh, then laugh. No need to stifle it. But be warned, this day’s events shall not reach Fallen Mountain, especially not the ears of Little Rice Grain.”

Zhao Shuxia nodded, his smile broadening, yet he held back his mirth, granting his master a measure of grace.

It was, truly, a situation ripe for amusement. To witness such a thing befall his master was a trial even for Zhao Shuxia’s honest and simple nature.

Earlier that day, a woman, clearly possessed of a fiery temper, had arrived at the school, standing at the entrance and calling out, demanding her child return home, renouncing his studies.

When Chen Ping’an inquired into her reasons, she ignored him, only shrieking the child’s name, a young boy who stood, embarrassed and dismayed.

The woman dragged the boy by the arm and demanded Chen Ping’an return the tuition fee, already less than the customary price, far lower than that of the neighboring village.

Chen Ping’an did not grow angry, nor did he argue. He merely wished to speak a few words to the child.

This incensed the woman further. She began to shove him, Chen Ping’an merely raising a hand in defense, whereupon she launched into a full-blown tantrum, striking out at his face.

Recalling the day’s events, Chen Ping’an chuckled softly. “It seems this is what books mean by ‘scholar’s dignity trampled underfoot.'”

Zhao Shuxia, curiosity piqued, asked, “Master, is it truly so that ten strips of cured meat are the entrance fee, ordained by the Saintly Sage himself?”

The unspoken question: Did even the holiest of teachers require payment?

Chen Ping’an nodded with a smile. “Truth without doubt.”

Zhao Shuxia hesitated, then succumbed, asking, “Master, why did you allow that woman to take the child?”

Chen Ping’an opened his eyes, pondered a moment, and replied with a touch of resignation, “Since I could not stop her, what choice did I have? I could hardly grapple with her. This isn’t a fist-fight where the victor dictates.”

Zhao Shuxia burst into unrestrained laughter.

In the end, the boy became the first student to withdraw from the fledgling school.

The academy had only just opened its doors, a less-than-auspicious start.

Word had it that a woman known for her gossiping tongue had already begun to smear the school and the master with baseless rumors and twisted tales.

Though Chen Ping’an had purposefully suppressed his power and abilities, becoming indistinguishable from a common man, Zhao Shuxia’s earlier greetings had indeed gone unheard, and the female cultivator Yu Huiting, fleetingly passing by on the wind, had mistakenly thought that Chen Ping’an was feigning sleep on the woven 藤 chair, deliberately ignoring her. If he had been truly angered even a glare from Chen Ping’an might have subdued the ranting village woman.

Amusing as it was, Zhao Shuxia sighed, feeling aggrieved on his master’s behalf. To study under such a teacher was a blessing. He knew that many Confucian academies and schools desired Chen Ping’an to lecture, but he had turned them all down.

Chen Ping’an gently fanned himself, chuckling. “I remember the first time I met Wei Xian, near the border of Great Springs, in a town called Fox Cub. The Emperor of South Garden, with his discerning eye, met me, and the second thing Wei Haiyang said was, ‘Master, such a powerful aura of kingship!’ Hah, you think I’m joking? Wei Xian, besides his love for alcohol, has extraordinary insight. Lu Baixiang and Sui Youbian are far below Wei Xian.”

Zhao Shuxia was neither Pei Qian nor Cui Dongshan, and he couldn’t follow those thoughts.

There was a moment of silence, before Chen Ping’an, as if compelled, spoke two sentences with a slight pause between them.

“To accept what is beyond one’s power, and find peace.”

“The clear moon and gentle breeze will ultimately fall.”

Zhao Shuxia did not understand, yet he sensed a kind of… release in his master tonight, a lightness.

Chen Ping’an smiled softly. “That letter… take it to Fallen Mountain. Choose a secluded, scenic path, practice your stances along the way, and truly experience the extraordinary nature of a fifth-realm martial artist’s body. Once at Fallen Mountain, don’t rush back. Have Old Cook help you with your training. The place will be the bamboo building’s second floor. Take time to heal. And if you find the sparring enjoyable, take some more beatings. Best of all, secretly steal a few of Zhu Lian’s stances. That fellow likes to hoard his skills. He has plenty of hidden cards, but rarely has the opportunity to show them. And you’re a swordsman, like Zhu Lian, so at the second floor you can shamelessly ask him to show you a few tricks, and if you get a sixth level out of it, that’s fine too. Don’t worry about my food, clothing and shelter here. Worry about your lack of a partner.”

Zhao Shuxia had recently ascended to the fifth realm of martial arts while living in the village school because both his previous level and this new one were within the range of body refinement. As such, breaking through was not as difficult as going from the third to fourth, or the sixth to seventh.

Earlier, the Daoist Wu Di had inquired with Lu Chen in a narrow lane of Yongjia county, asking how Zhu Lian’s swordsmanship compared to Sui Youbian’s.

Lu Chen had grinned and replied simply, “Not low.”

Whether he meant that Zhu Lian surpassed Sui Youbian or merely deserved the title “not low,” Lu had been unwilling to elaborate.

It was known that Lu Chen had written “Discourse on Swords,” and within White Jade City, he had borrowed land from Guo Jie and Shao Xiang to build a private study named “Pavilion of a Thousand Swords.”

Both were high-ranking Daoist sword immortals in White Jade City.

And Zhu Lian had once let slip that his first adventures in the world had been with a sword by his side. Chen Ping’an refused to believe that Zhu Lian was ignorant of swordsmanship.

Of the four in the Lotus Blossom Paradise scroll, only Zhu Lian had yet to take a disciple. He was already a boundary martial artist, and despite Sui Youbian’s early decision to cultivate the Dao and become a female sword immortal, Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang, both contributing more to physical martial arts, were only traveling realms, as was their fellow villager Zhong Qiu. Zhu Lian had spent the most recent years in Fallen Mountain, more interested in his duties than the pursuit of martial skill. Chen Ping’an wanted to know why, so he arranged a friendly fight in the Nanyuan Kingdom’s capital during a snowy day.

“You have been practicing martial arts for sixty years longer than I have, but I’m one realm higher than you, Zhu Lian. So we’ll just see how it goes. Don’t blame heaven or earth if you get knocked down.”

Zhao Shuxia agreed.

Chen Ping’an had spent most of his days away from home over the past 30 years, and it wasn’t Zhao Shuxia’s responsibility to take care of his daily life.

Zhu Lian had once said, “When we cannot be responsible for ourselves, we are not qualified to be responsible for others.”

As for the impromptu delivery, Chen Ping’an had written a letter that day. Originally, he planned to have Chen Lingjun take it to Fallen Mountain next time he visited, and then post it to Qingping Sword Sect. The recipient was Cao Qinglang.

In the letter, Chen Ping’an suggested that his excellent student, should visit Tianmu Academy in his free time and attend the lectures of Vice Chancellor Wen Yu.

Chen Ping’an never hid these things, and some of his private thoughts, from Zhao Shuxia.

Zhao Shuxia asked curiously, “Master, do you respect Chancellor Wen of Tianmu Academy a great deal?”

Chen Ping’an thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully, “How to say it… Wen Yu is very close to my ideal image of a scholar… both with unwavering integrity and an innate sense of duty. And even as he is ambitious, he is careful and practical, and always filled with compassion for the weak. In my view, Wen Yu deserves the title ‘pure Confucian.'”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “As my teacher said, ‘With firm resolve and understanding, a gentleman shall be.’ Wen Yu is such a man.”

Inspired by the shift in his master’s mood, Zhao Shuxia joked, “How does Chancellor Wen compare to Master Liu of Taiwei Sword Sect?”

Chen Ping’an chuckled, gently waving his fan, relaxed and smiling, “Not quite the same. I am more at ease with Liu Jiu Xian, but I feel more restrained around Wen Yu.”

Zhao Shuxia was shocked. His master, who had seen so much of the world, felt restrained around someone?

Zhao Shuxia did not belong to any faction on Fallen Mountain, but there was a strong atmosphere of openness. News was shared, and no one was marginalized. So he was aware that his master often brought back stories from his travels, but he rarely mentioned the same person repeatedly. Yet since opening the school, his master had spoken of Wen Yu many times.

Chen Ping’an had first met Wen Yu on their own Wind Kite ferry. Though their conversation was brief, Chen Ping’an did not hide his admiration for the gentleman scholar.

For instance, Wen Yu had an idea to use a mountain sect as an example, and he had a theory that the number of people in the ancestral hall had to be an odd number. And before that, there would be a smaller internal meeting to determine whether important decisions needed to be put on the agenda. The number of people would also need to be an odd number, to ensure there were no ties, so that any decisions placed on the table could be quickly approved. Whether there was a distinction between inside or out, large or small, a person who disagreed had to be able to record his dissenting opinion for future review and verification. At the same time, there was a need to set up a recorder, a position similar to a historian.

Chen Ping’an raised his fingers and made a small circle. “Wen Yu said that the world is rising in a spiral, each whorl is like a ram’s horn, going upwards. He’s not just relying on a few strong people to lead the way, but needs a stable and flexible system. He believes that the state of the world should not depend on the decisions of a small number of people. It needs to be a situation where more people are responsible. In the meantime, we can correct our mistakes at any time, not being afraid to make mistakes, but being afraid of delays, using the appearance of inaction to cover up inaction. Let every mistake and correction become a small step in the world’s ascent, forming a road that everyone can walk on. In this way, the academy will first provide a verifiable blueprint and a template for the world, and as the number of joint decisions increases, the more cases that can be reviewed from the beginning, the more problems that can be discovered, and the more corrections will be made, making the base text better and better, and in the end, the world will be stable, but in this process, there will be a lot of problems.”

Chen Ping’an sighed softly, “Ten years to grow a tree, a hundred years to nurture a person. A heavy burden and a long road.”

Zhao Shuxia blushed. “Master, are you wasting your breath on me by telling me all this?”

Chen Ping’an smiled and asked, “Does it bore you?”

Zhao Shuxia shook his head. “Of course not.”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “When we understand more and more of the ‘whys,’ we will have more patience and peace of mind. A person who can be calm and peaceful has achieved success in cultivating his mind. In the future, when encountering things, it will be less likely to say angry or harsh words to others.”

The learning of the three religions and hundreds of schools seemed to be focused on working on the “mind.”

Zhao Shuxia deeply understood this.

In the bamboo building at Fallen Mountain, a green-robed Chen Ping’an, a shadow self, was up late at night, repeatedly reviewing a book, a compilation of his previous conversations with Wen Yu. There were eight other notebooks on his desk, of varying thicknesses, filled with geographical records resembling travel journals, excerpts and thoughts on Buddhist precepts and Daoist scriptures, bamboo branch poems, news and observations from Jade Mountain, all carefully compiled.

If the nine consciousnesses attached to the talisman clones were considered to be jointly writing a book, then the Chen Ping’an who remained in Fallen Mountain was like the editor-in-chief.

This Chen Ping’an walked out of the house, hung a sword talisman, and rode the wind to Huaihuang County.

According to the results of the last meeting, the future ministers of rites in each country would have to be from the seventy-two academies. In Wen Yu’s view, scholars entering officialdom needed to have a solid personal knowledge, be proficient in law and arithmetic, and have practical skills for managing the world and aiding the people. They needed to be sincere and constantly deepen their knowledge, as well as understand the operating principles of specific matters such as money, food, and litigation. Wen Yu gave an example. When the officials of the Ministry of Rites and the Ministry of Finance argued in court, one could not only talk about etiquette and morality, and the other only about money. That was like talking to a brick wall.

Since the students entering the academies were the deserved seeds of learning from various countries, the academies had to take responsibility for cultivating them. The academies had to focus on studying dozens of topics, opening up avenues of expression, and allowing Confucian students to widely participate in policy discussions, such as what true “governing by non-action” really meant, and make sure that Confucian students understand all these issues when they first enter the academies, instead of just reading their own books and burying themselves in their own studies. Whether a country’s ancestral laws and Confucian rites of the temple were unchangeable, or could be modified, and whether there was a possibility of improvement, and how to improve it, should all be discussed clearly during the academy, so that everyone had a clear understanding, and even if they still had different answers, they should temporarily seek common ground and put aside differences, leaving it to the scholars to use their practical experience to prove or overturn their earliest views. To present any point of view, there had to be sufficient reasoning to support it. Wen Yu said that scholars who talked about reason were like writing a book. The argument was just the title and preface, the evidence was the table of contents, the chapters, and the process should be step-by-step, with each link able to withstand scrutiny.

Setting a goal in the heart was sentimental, romantic, and expansive. Doing the work at hand was rational, orderly, and logical.

In addition, Wen Yu said that he planned to have the academy take the lead and cooperate with the governments of various countries to compile a common pharmacopoeia and improve the status of doctors in the various schools of thought.

He also wanted to compile a classified book of the famous reforms in the history of Haoran, whether successful or unsuccessful, and including the evaluations of the time and later generations for scholars to refer to.

This coincided with many of Chen Ping’an’s views.

And it was obvious that Wen Yu was more thoughtful and thorough than Chen Ping’an.

Perhaps this was what was meant by “instant understanding and friendship.”

Wen Yu was not only a Confucian gentleman serving as vice chancellor, but also a genuine sword cultivator.

Like the registered cultivators of Qingming, all were essentially Daoists.

However, they could still have their own cultivation paths and other additional identities. For example, Xuan Du Temple was a branch of Daoist sword immortals, and Huayang Palace of Difai Mountain also had a branch that was sword cultivators.

Wen Yu had joked with his friend Wang Zai, who was visiting his study, that if he went to Sword Qi Great Wall, he would definitely be able to enter the Summer Retreat Palace.

This was not Wen Yu deliberately belittling his friend to elevate himself.

This Chen Ping’an quietly arrived at the main street of the town, at the restaurant owned by Aunt Feng. It was still brightly lit and noisy.

Walking towards Mud Bottle Lane, Chen Ping’an paused at the entrance, then slowly walked down the lane, stopping at the door next to the ancestral house, facing the abandoned house that seemed to have been derelict as long as he could remember. He looked to the left, then squatted down, cupping his hands in his sleeves, as if a young child was rolling on the ground. Then he glanced to the right, at the mud beneath his ancestral home, where a rouge box was buried.

Like the question asked by “Daoist Wu Di” and Lu Chen, what in this world is the result of man, and what the result of destiny?

If all things are destined, then there is no changing fate. If not, then life is full of coincidences, and gains and losses depend on oneself.

According to Lu Chen, it was the latter.

Chen Ping’an hesitated, then, like Lu Chen before him, climbed over the wall, his back to the courtyard door. He took a few steps and wanted to open the door, but stopped. After a moment, he went back to his house and sat at the table to light an oil lamp.

This “Chen Ping’an” was the scholar he once hoped to be, a child learning at school who, after some years of working hard, could have his own study later in life.

This was also the life his parents wanted for him.

Some simple truths did not need to be repeated to a child. Be kind to others, be polite, greet elders when you see them. Be honest and do things properly… because children always see how their parents and elders do things. This was true upbringing.

At the village school, Zhao Shuxia asked, “Master, why do you deliberately act like… an ordinary person?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “I am here to teach and nurture, what need do I have for mountain magic?”

Zhao Shuxia was speechless.

Chen Ping’an sat up and murmured, “To teach and to nurture cannot be separated.”

If the school only taught books, and the parents and teachers believed that was all it had to do, there would be a problem.

Chen Ping’an was silent for a moment, then smiled. “I also have selfish reasons, wanting to learn from Qi.”

Hearing this, Zhao Shuxia immediately understood.

It seemed that his master had always referred to the Little Senior Brother of the Wen Saint lineage as “Mr. Qi,” not “Senior Brother Qi.” It had been that way, it still was that way, and it would likely be that way in the future.

Chen Ping’an suddenly smiled. “Shuxia, you may soon have a junior brother. Fourteen years old, named Ning Ji. This is only a possibility for now, because Ning Ji still has the process of choosing a master. Lu Chen or I, and he needs to calm down, think it over for a few days, and then decide.”

Zhao Shuxia thought he had misheard. “Who?”

Chen Ping’an said, “You heard correctly. It’s Lu Chen.”

Earlier in Yongjia County, Chen Ping’an had explained the weight of the titles held by Lu Chen and the Master of White Jade City, using analogies that the young man could understand.

Ning Ji was surprised and scared.

When a person harbored a deep-seated distrust of the world, it must stem from profound suffering.

The young boy had experienced much of life’s harshness, and his world was filled with grayness, almost devoid of color.

Lu Chen had wanted to copy Chen Ping’an and explain his titles to Ning Ji.

But Chen Ping’an stopped him and signaled him not to cheat.

Lu Chen asked the boy to bring a bowl of plain water, to be used in place of tea. If Ning Ji agreed, he would drink it.

That would mean that the two had entered a master-disciple relationship.

Lu Chen could then return to the world of Qingming and White Jade City.

Lu Chen had two reasons for wanting Ning Ji to become a disciple of Chen Ping’an.

Firstly, taking Ning Ji as a disciple involved too much karma. It wasn’t that Lu Chen couldn’t handle it, but he was generally lazy. His disciples, Cao Rong and He Xiaoliang, had been chosen on a whim. He would bestow a few scriptures and spells, and then leave them to their own devices. Moreover, Ning Ji’s origin meant that he was different from Lu Chen’s other disciples. Lu Chen would have to keep him by his side until he reached the upper five realms, which could take decades or centuries.

Secondly, there were not as many benefits as one might think to be found in taking on the boy. Lu Chen had predicted that if the mountain man Ning Ji had no master or friends, then he would likely be a great cultivator by the time he was 14 levels, but if Lu Chen were to take him on as a disciple and guide him, then Ning Ji’s Daoist achievements would start to decline and he may never reach level 14.

Therefore, Lu Chen was unwilling to delay his own life by dealing with Ning Ji’s training.

Actually, Lu Chen had three people in mind who could serve as Ning Ji’s teachers: senior brother Kou Ming, the Saint of Rites, and Zheng Juzhong of White Emperor City.

But his senior brother had yet to integrate into the Dao, and the Saint of Rites was extremely busy, and Zheng Juzhong was a master of the Demonic Path, the Temple of Literature probably wouldn’t agree.

Chen Ping’an was the fourth choice.

After a long silence, the boy asked Lu Chen why he, such a noble person, would want to take him as a disciple.

Lu Chen was speechless.

Was he supposed to tell him that because of his birth, he would cause many problems for a long time? And that it would be necessary to have a patient expert to slowly get him on the right track? Otherwise, he would, as expected, be a young cultivator who would cause the worlds of Haoran and the barbarians a great deal of trouble?

Lu Chen glared at Chen Ping’an. “Ning Ji, don’t you have any questions for Daoist Wu?”

The boy asked Chen Ping’an, “Daoist Wu, would you take me as a disciple?”

Lu Chen almost coughed up blood on the spot.

It was like asking one person what the weather will be like next year, and asking another if the weather is nice today.

Were the two questions the same difficulty?

Lu Chen almost took him as a disciple then and there.

In the darkness, a young Daoist was leading a thin boy towards Chen Ping’an’s school.

He had made an appointment with Chen Ping’an to let Ning Ji consider it for a few days, but Lu Chen thought it was better to take the boy to see the real “Daoist Wu Di,” and take Ning Ji to see him in person and use the shrinking method.

The moment Ning Ji stepped out of the courtyard and into the alley, he found himself on a strange road of yellow mud and asked, “Lord Lu, isn’t Daoist Wu supposed to be a Daoist, so why is he a teacher?”

Lu Chen smiled. “A person is never able to change their teaching habits. Besides wanting to be a good person, he also wants to make the whole world better, even if it’s just a little bit.”

Ning Ji asked, “Would Lord Lu want to make the world better?”

Lu Chen was a little embarrassed. “I’m too lazy. I once wrote a book, and all the words I want to say to the world are in the book.”

Ning Ji said, “I once heard an old saying that said, ‘If you are to die in the water, you will not die on the shore.’ Now that Lord Lu has seen so much of the world, don’t you think about helping a person, but watch us ordinary people live and die, feeling that we are asking for it ourselves, or just too lazy to look?”

Lu Chen smiled and did not speak.

As expected of Ning Ji, even if he seemed quiet, the questions he did ask were tricky.

Sensing that the boy was in a bad mood, Lu Chen asked, “Before meeting Daoist Wu and me, did you ever think about how you would live?”

Ning Ji said softly, “Live. Live well. Take revenge on those who have wronged me, and repay those who have helped me.”

Lu Chen asked, “You’ve only met Daoist Wu twice, so how can you feel close to him? Aren’t you afraid of meeting a bad person with ulterior motives?”

The boy thought about this for the first time, thought carefully for a moment, and honestly replied, “Because that Wu Daochang and the other people are different.”

The boy hesitated and asked softly, “Daoist Wu, like Lord Lu, did you come to find me from the beginning?”

Ning Ji wasn’t stupid, and he knew that his own existence in the alley must have been the reason that the master of White Jade City had come.

Lu Chen shook his head. “He’s not. Meeting you was just a coincidence. Daoist Wu is almost the same as you. Just like you said just now, he repays those who help him, and seeks vengeance on those who harm him.”

The boy immediately perked up.

As expected, he guessed right again. Daoist Wu was different from Lord Lu.

Lu Chen was angry.

Daoist Wu was just a clone of Chen Ping’an.

“So if Daoist Wu had the same original intentions as me, would you be disappointed?”

Ning Ji thought for a moment and shook his head. “I won’t be disappointed.”

On the contrary, it might feel like a rare stroke of luck. Just like a poor wretch who was so hungry that he was seeing stars, suddenly found a ingot of silver on the ground.

Lu Chen rolled his eyes, and Lu Chen drank a mouthful of green plum wine, and felt that his teeth were sour.

The boy felt strange.

Lu Chen asked, “Do you want to learn this fairy technique? It’s easy to learn, and you don’t have to spend money on alcohol in the future.”

The boy shook his head, but swallowed the words that were about to come out of his mouth.

Even if Lu Chen was the one that Wu Daochang called “someone who all scholars can’t get around,” the master of White Jade City, it was bad to climb over walls, and it was even worse to steal things without paying.

Lu Chen smiled and asked, “Ning Ji, didn’t you steal anything on your way here?”

Ning Ji honestly replied, “I stole, not just once or twice, but that’s because I couldn’t live without it.”

Lu Chen sighed, “No wonder you and Daoist Wu get along so well.”

Ning Ji asked suspiciously, “Daoist Wu had a hard life… and stole things?”

Lu Chen changed the subject, “Many times, when people make mistakes but know that they are wrong, there are two possibilities. One is that they get used to it and don’t even bother to deceive themselves, but learn to pave their way with excuses. The other is that they build a dam in their hearts to prevent floods and extremes. That’s why the Saintly Sage said, ‘If you have faults, do not fear to abandon them.'”

Ning Ji said, “So he also stole?”

Then the boy added, “Daoist Wu must have had a hard time when he was a child.”

Lu Chen had to tilt his head again and take a hard sip of green plum wine.

Glancing at the boy, Lu Chen felt a little regretful these years, regretting that he didn’t just knock Chen Ping’an unconscious and throw him in a sack to White Jade City, whether it was in Nanhua City, or like his senior brother, taking him as a disciple, perhaps there wouldn’t be so many troubles now.

Sensing Lord Lu’s strange gaze, Ning Ji intentionally slowed down, but quickly returned to normal. This was a mysterious intuition.

A man must not have a heart to harm others, but he must have a heart to guard against others.

Moreover, the boy was indeed carefully observing a “White Jade City Lord.”

Lu Chen nodded secretly, so-called Daoist embryos.

Lu Chen asked, “Did you ever go to school when you were a child?”

Ning Ji said sadly, “I only went to private school for a few days and only learned a few dozen words.”

Lu Chen asked again, “Since you had a private school, that means your family was in good condition. Did you worship the Saintly Sage’s portrait on the first day of school, and did you kowtow to the teacher?”

Ning Ji shook his head, “I was very young at that time. My clan uncle temporarily served as the teacher, so it wasn’t formal schooling, so there were no such things.”

Private schools in the secular world are generally set up in clan ancestral halls and do not accept children from other families. Chen Ping’an’s private schools are not limited to surnames. The main purpose is to teach children to read and write. Most of them are long schools, which start after the Lantern Festival in the first month of the lunar year and end in winter. The teachers do not need to have much knowledge. Of course, there are also those who are determined to study for the imperial examinations. They are more knowledgeable and teach in the family or scriptures of wealthy families, mostly famous teachers in the area.

Generally, on the first day of school, families of wealthy scholars, or places with a slightly thicker culture of culture, would “invite” the Saintly Sage’s tablet or portrait from the county office’s Department of Rites and the county’s educator, and have the children kowtow and bow to the Saintly Sage and the teacher in charge of teaching before they could enroll.

Lu Chen stretched out his finger and quickly wrote two words in the air with his hand, “Do you know them?”

Ning Ji nodded, “Mortal, Immortal.”

Lu Chen smiled, “A person plus a grain is a mortal. A person in the mountains is an immortal. Isn’t it easy to understand? People eat grains, and immortals refine Qi in the mountains, so there is a distinction between mortals and immortals.”

Ning Ji silently wrote down these two words and these sayings.

Lu Chen said, “Let me make it clear in advance that I’m not poaching, and I’m not boasting. If you worship me as your teacher, you will be more free. If you recognize that Daoist Wu as your master, you will one day find that you, or at least part of you, will need to hide from someone for a long time.”

Ning Ji asked curiously, “Who?”

Lu Chen smiled, “You can slowly find the answer yourself in the future.”

Ning Ji kept it in mind and asked, “Is the school where Daoist Wu teaches soon?”

Lu Chen said, “It’s already here.”

The boy took a step forward, and in a trance, the night turned into day and he was in another place.

Ning Ji looked around and found that it was outside a school?

The teacher inside was a strange man in a green robe.

But the boy recognized him at a glance as Daoist Wu.

Lu Chen smiled, “There is spring water to the south and north of the house, and the willows are green and the most gentle. It’s a good place. The mountains and rivers are beautiful. It’s really a good place to cultivate one’s mind and teach!”

There was a stream beside the school, and Lu Chen listened carefully, nodding, “A famous painting requires poetic reading, and the sound of books can also be heard as the sound of water.”

Lu Chen took the confused boy into the house, went straight to the back, and explained with a smile, “Don’t worry, Daoist Wu can’t see us, and we won’t disturb his class. According to the people on the mountain, this is called entering a place as if there were no one there.”

Ning Ji almost stood against the wall and was still very restrained.

Lu Chen leaned against the window, looking tired, and smiled, “By the way, Daoist Wu’s real name is Chen Ping’an.”

Ning Ji nodded.

This boy from the streets had not yet had the opportunity to know the uncommonness of this very common name.

Inside the school, the man in the green robe said, “My name is Chen Ji. From today onwards, I am your teacher.”

“The first thing I want to teach you has five words, and that is ‘study and practice it from time to time.'”

The teacher paused for a long time on the word “study” and slowly said, “The word ‘study’ is temporarily understood as reading.”

Lu Chen leaned on the windowsill, drinking wine, not knowing when there was a celadon wine glass in his hand. He put the wine pot aside, held the wine glass, and drank alone, “Peach and plum wind in spring, a glass of wine.”