In a humble village school, Master Chen Ji was instructing his disciples on a certain martial stance.

Underneath a Zhao tree, a student rested, his mood complex. Earlier that day, his master had almost been scratched by a shrew who barged into the school.

In the jade-bright capital of the Yu Xuan Kingdom, where curfews were unknown, a fortune-telling Daoist named Wu Di had finished his late-night meal and emerged from his dwelling. He passed by the Changning County Yamen, where the shrine was brightly lit, likely indicating another dispute. The Daoist headed north, walking along a dilapidated alley in Yongjia County, intending to chat with a young man.

By the Jade Carving Mountain, Chen Jiu, a receptionist from the outer sect of the Bamboo Branch Sect, arrived at a spot he had baited near the river. He was preparing for a night’s fishing, a testament to his skill – just a rod, a stool, and a fish basket, avoiding any ostentatious display.

Within the Harmonious Joy Mountain’s Pink Pill Abode, a youth with straw sandals and a sheathed sword, going by the alias Chen Ren, hesitated. Should he let his disciple spar with that Wen Sect Master, whose gaze he didn’t trust, to gain some experience?

At the peak of Ink Splatter Peak, Chen Ping’an, dressed in the attire of a Daoist immortal, remained noncommittal upon hearing some news. He smiled and bid farewell, offering a Daoist salute to Cao Rong. “If Celestial Master Cao has the leisure to visit Fallen Peak, simply give advance notice, and I shall eagerly await your arrival.”

Cao Rong didn’t commit to visiting Fallen Peak, only returning the salute with a smiling, “May fortune be immeasurable.”

Chen Ping’an transformed into a streak of rainbow light, vanishing in an instant. He left the peak of Ink Splatter Peak, crossing the border of Harmonious Joy Mountain in the blink of an eye.

Lu Chen crouched down again, picking up nine small stones, which he rattled gently in his hand as if rolling dice before scattering them on the ground.

Although Cao Rong claimed to be dull-witted, having cultivated for three thousand years without finding the great path to ascension, such polite words were best taken with a grain of salt.

In the realms of talismans and formations alone, Cao Rong possessed profound insight, able to discern answers without incantations or calculations.

Seeing is believing. This renowned young Hidden Official had already made significant progress in the art of talismans, undoubtedly possessing considerable skill. However, Cao Rong had no interest in delving into its depths. He had no kinship or enmity with Chen Ping’an.

“It’s fortunate you restrained yourself from attempting to divine Chen Ping’an’s fate, or you would be joining Lu Shen as a fellow sufferer.”

Lu Chen first made a jesting remark before explaining, “The Big Dipper, along with its two assistant stars, has been replicated by Chen Ping’an with talismanic techniques to create nine clones. This Chen Ping’an, one of the assistant stars, couldn’t linger for long. Otherwise, a single move would throw the entire formation into chaos.”

Cao Rong asked curiously, “Does Master have a close relationship with Chen Ping’an?”

Chen Ping’an’s technique of talismanic clones forming a formation wasn’t enough to greatly surprise a Daoist Celestial Master.

Sadly, Master Lu Chen had visited the Great Azure World several times but had never actively sought out Cao Rong, his direct disciple of the Spirit Flight Sect.

Regarding the rumors surrounding Master and the young Hidden Official, Cao Rong had naturally heard many whispers from the mountain peaks of a continent over the years. Moreover, having visited the Northern Sea Continent and met Junior Sister He Xiaoliang, he had also learned some inside information.

Lu Chen nodded with a troubled expression. “Close, yes, but deeply entangled, a complicated mess.”

Clasping his hands together and gently exhaling, Lu Chen looked up at Harmonious Joy Mountain and asked, “How is He Xiaoliang?”

There were some matters Lu Chen was too lazy to deduce. He was a Daoist who concerned himself with the Dao, not an old hen spreading its wings to protect its chicks.

Cao Rong respectfully replied, “Reporting to Master, not long ago, Bai Shang secretly entered closed-door cultivation. Junior Sister He, knowing it might be a trap aimed at her, insisted on trying to stop him. Your disciple and Senior Brother Gu had no choice but to take a gamble with her. Celestial Master Xie Shi was secretly helping, but he couldn’t openly attack Bai Shang due to his position. He could only lend support from afar, preventing Bai Shang from inflicting a deadly blow on Junior Sister He.”

Gu Qingsong, whose Daoist name was “Celestial Raft,” wasn’t a true disciple of Lu Chen. He was merely a boatman who had accompanied Lu Chen on his voyage to seek immortals.

However, Cao Rong and the other direct disciples all acknowledged this eldest brother, who had “never lost an argument and feared no one.”

Celestial Master Xie Shi was the nominal leader of the mountains in the Northern Sea Continent, with authority over all except the Confucian academies.

This Daoist Celestial Master, whose ancestral home was in Peach Leaf Lane of the Li Zhu Grotto-Heaven, held a similar position to that of Qi Zhen of the Divine Edict Sect in the Treasure Bottle Continent in his early years.

As for the Fire Dragon True Man of Prostrate Peak, he would never admit to being a leader in both the white and black paths, always claiming to be penniless and unable to speak with authority.

Recalling that encounter of a mantis stalking a cicada, unaware of the oriole behind, Cao Rong couldn’t help but feel lingering fear. He quietly performed an incantation to diminish the image of the sword cultivator Bai Shang in his mind. “Bai Shang’s closed-door cultivation was genuine, absolutely certain. However, the speed at which he broke through and emerged was astonishing, unprecedented. It didn’t seem like a newly ascended immortal who needed to stabilize his realm. Previously, your disciple thought he had overestimated the Sword Immortal Bai Shang, but he had underestimated him. We were caught off guard. Senior Brother Gu, relying on a temporary formation, managed to block the first sword, sustaining serious injuries and is now recuperating on Osmanthus Island. Your disciple blocked the second sword, and Junior Sister He barely managed to catch the third, but she was sent flying by the sword, shattering a mountain peak. Fortunately, her injuries weren’t severe. Before Xie Shi could offer assistance, a Daoist claiming the Daoist name Pure Yang arrived.”

Cao Rong described it in the most concise terms, making it sound effortless, but anyone who had been in the midst of it, including the unseen Xie Shi, wouldn’t have found it lighthearted. Well, perhaps except for Senior Brother Gu, who was accustomed to grand occasions.

However, Cao Rong had to admit that his junior sister, He Xiaoliang, truly possessed extraordinary good fortune.

It wasn’t to say that the several of them, joining forces, would have no chance against an Ascension Realm sword cultivator. However, Cao Rong’s trip was more of a protective mission. He had no justifiable reason to inflict a lethal blow on Bai Shang.

They had clearly fallen into Bai Shang’s meticulously laid trap, yet Junior Sister He had only suffered a sword strike and could retreat unscathed, an encounter that Cao Rong couldn’t comprehend.

Lu Chen, apparently having anticipated this outcome, laughed, “Did you think the title of the foremost sword immortal of the Northern Sea Continent was just for show? Absurd.”

“To achieve ascension, Bai Shang had been extremely patient, meticulously planning in both open and secret. He had laid out at least three paths for himself, attempting to merge them into one. It was a laborious undertaking.”
For instance, Bai Chang did not hesitate to collaborate with Tian Wan of Zhuyu Peak in Zhengyang Mountain, coveting the sword dao fortune of Treasure Bottle洲. He almost succeeded.”

“Ambitious, but his style is somewhat unscrupulous, more like a wild cultivator from the mountains and marshes. He Xiaoliang doesn’t compete with Bai Chang in luck; as the head of a sect, she insists on matching wits with him. Isn’t that using her weaknesses against his strengths?”

“That Northern Ju蘆洲 is renowned for its cloud-like sword cultivators. Logically, there should be an Ascended Realm sword cultivator there. Gu Qingsong speaks without thinking, doing everything with ease; let’s not talk about him. Cao Rong, don’t you find it strange? At the very least, shouldn’t Xie Shi, as a senior and local, have advised our Sect Master He?”

Lu Chen smiled as he said this, “He Xiaoliang wants to delay Bai Chang’s ascent to the Ascended Realm, preferably damaging his foundation, so he can’t reach the Ascended Realm in this lifetime. Otherwise, if both ascend, there will be no way to fight. For at least a thousand years, two mortal enemies will be in the same continent, only able to stare at each other awkwardly.”

“Bai Chang wants He Xiaoliang to lose one or two realms after this battle, missing out on some major opportunity in the future, falling behind step by step, intending to make it impossible for He Xiaoliang to ever catch up. Anyway, they both fear each other, gambling on the off chance of a permanent solution. One gambles that Bai Chang’s cultivation aptitude isn’t that great, that he can’t just break through after closing up. The other gambles that He Xiaoliang’s luck isn’t that good, that she won’t always be blessed on her cultivation path; she’ll have bad luck eventually.”

Cao Rong asked, “That Pure Yang Daoist said he was an old acquaintance of Master, and he owes Master a favor.”

Lu Chen said, “It’s not exactly owing a favor. The Pure Yang Daoist and White Bone True Man once traveled together in Qingcui City; he and your Master were quite compatible.”

The reason Daoists attain immortality is that they don’t act like corpses. As one of Lu Chen’s seven Heart Aspects, the White Bone True Man undoubtedly goes against this.

Daoist, Daoist, a person walks the Grand Dao, a learned person. One who lives long enough can see many successors, step by step, reaching the summit.

Lu Chen asked with a smile, “Did they fight to the point of the heavens collapsing and the earth shattering?”

Cao Rong shook his head. “Bai Chang and that Pure Yang Daoist were just comparing sword skills on this small stone platform on the mountaintop.”

“In the end, on the mountaintop, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say the sword qi was as dense as water turning to ice.”

Cao Rong exclaimed, “A Daoist and a sword immortal, purely comparing sword techniques. I didn’t expect the Daoist to win completely.”

Lu Chen wasn’t surprised by this.

It would be strange if Bai Chang, who had just entered the Ascended Realm, won against Lü Yan, who had attained Dao three thousand years ago.

Pure Yang Lü Yan may not necessarily enter the ranks of the top ten in the world; Lu Chen wouldn’t guarantee that.

But if Lü Yan becomes a candidate, there’s no doubt about it.

Lu Chen laughed, “What happened with the founder of Golden Immortal Convent? How big of a mistake did she make to be removed from your records and become a disgraced disciple of Lingfei Convent? Why is she so eager to restore her status? Tell me about it.”

Cao Rong honestly revealed the truth. “Back then, she was too eager to reach the Upper Five Realms and took a wrong path. She secretly secluded herself for cultivation, but her Dao heart was lost, and she was possessed. A disciple noticed the signs and had to forcefully pull her out of the illusion. If they had acted any later, she would have been possessed by a heavenly demon. Her crime deserved death, but banishing her from the mountain was considered lenient.”

Lu Chen sighed, “I remember when you reached the Immortal Realm, I walked out of the Ancestral Hall portrait. Later, when I was walking in the mountains, I saw her.”

In the Grand Bright World, sects like Lingfei Convent and Taiping Mountain can invite one of the three Masters of White Jade Capital when a Daoist reaches the Heavenly Sovereign Realm.

For the duration of an incense stick.

Back then, she was just an ignorant girl with a pointed chin and round eyes. When the girl saw the Daoist coronet on Lu Chen’s head, she insisted on pursuing his crime of transgression.

A smart person would guess the identity and reason. A slightly dull person would probably endure and not act, finding an opportunity to inform the elders of the sect.

In a complex world, a person’s innocence is like an unsheathed sword, only to be hung on a wall called childhood or youth.

Perhaps you can occasionally return to your hometown to take a look at it, but you can’t always carry it with you.

Lu Chen smiled knowingly, “Heavenly Sovereign Cao, you’re not being honest.”

Cao Rong looked embarrassed, guessing why his Master was teasing him. He had to bite the bullet and say, “Junior Sister He was worried about being punished by Master, so she asked me to help her hide it.”

It turned out that before setting off, He Xiaoliang had already decided to sacrifice a grotto-heaven and her realm as the price to stop Bai Chang’s breakthrough.

It was only because Bai Chang broke through too quickly that He Xiaoliang’s losing endeavor, akin to killing eight hundred enemies while losing a thousand of her own, fell through.

Lu Chen didn’t bother to dwell on such things, saying, “Later, say hello to Xiang Jun and restore her status in Lingfei Convent’s records.”

Cao Rong lowered his head and cupped his fist, “As you command.”

After leaving Ink Splashing Peak, Chen Pingan returned directly to the original place, where there was an ancient site.

Immortals can walk in the footsteps of the ancients.

Following the written records in a local gazetteer, Chen Pingan indeed found a deep mountain that had been regarded as the residence of immortals by the local inhabitants since ancient times. However, the shrines and temples in the mountain had long been abandoned, no longer seeing the bustling incense of the past. But Chen Pingan found several “frost pines” on the ancient stone steps, recorded in the *Classic of Mountains and Seas Supplement*. This type of ancient pine can condense the moon’s essence without dissipating, with the pine needles shimmering like snow under the moonlight.

Looking at those ancient pines, Chen Pingan considered two difficult problems. His realm wasn’t high enough to use the Upper Five Realms divine ability of Sleeve Universe. He couldn’t even store small items, let alone these ancient trees. So, should he move them, and how?

Carrying pine trees on his shoulders and running through the sea of clouds was, after all, a bit undignified.

Falling Phoenix Mountain.

Chen Pingan walked out of the first floor of the bamboo building, gently rubbing his wrist. In the night, he looked into the distance. Stars hung low over the vast wilderness, and heaven and earth merged as one, as if he could reach the end of the sky with a horse ride.
Because the upheaval at Mount Hehuan caused a terrestrial subsidence, a series of related books were unearthed here, similar to works like “The Grand Meaning of the Five Elements, Chapter on the Seven Luminaries,” “Astronomical Treatise,” “Treatise on Calendar and Laws,” and “Monthly Commands in the Book of Rites.” Additionally, I borrowed “The Book of Master He Guan” and “Celestial Star Chart” from the Yellow Flower Temple in Tongye Continent. In truth, I’ve read them countless times and know them by heart, this is merely a review of familiar knowledge.

Following the bluestone path, I approached the old cook’s residence. From afar, I could hear Chen Lingjun and Zheng Dafeng’s signature laughter. Chen Ping’an could guess with his eyes closed what they were up to – indulging in illusory reflections. Initially, I intended to turn around and leave, but after a moment’s hesitation, I stepped over the threshold into a side room. Both doors were ajar. Leaning against the doorway, arms folded in my sleeves, I saw the spirit artifacts used to view illusory reflections piled high like a small mountain on the table. Currently displayed was a landscape painting of a small immortal abode in the Azure Billow Continent, with a graceful fairy strolling along. Zheng Dafeng, stroking his chin, commented, “Utter nonsense!” Chen Lingjun, seeing the woman sit by the dressing table and begin to arrange her hair, chuckled and said, “The moment she started doing her hair, I knew things wouldn’t be simple…”

Even the immortal guard was here. Many of Brother Dafeng and Daoist Jingqing’s words used to be incomprehensible, but now, the gatekeeper understood them instantly.

Hence, Chen Lingjun often praised his comprehension.

Only the old cook was alone, sitting elsewhere, watching an illusory reflection of a scholar traveling through a haunted house at night. Holding a plate of stir-fried soybeans, the old cook tossed a few into his mouth. The scene showed a pavilion outside a maiden’s chamber, with white and red garments swirling in the air, refusing to fall.

The old cook rose to offer his seat, but Chen Ping’an, not wanting to disturb their enjoyment, waved his hand and left.

He headed towards the mountain path, where Cen Yuanji was still practicing her fists. The way she looked at the young mountain master now was finally less like guarding against a thief.

In the past, the thought of this always irritated Chen Ping’an. That old cook’s house was full of perverts, young and old, not a single decent person among them. Yet you didn’t guard against them, but instead against me, a virtuous gentleman?

Walking on the steps, I recalled the “True Traces of Scarlet Script” gifted by Li Xisheng, a thin booklet recording over eighty types of talismans, divided into upper, middle, and lower grades, corresponding to the three realms of Qi Refiners.

During the period when Patriarch Lu temporarily lent Chen Ping’an the cultivation of the Fourteenth Realm, the young hidden official hadn’t been idle. He “made the most of it,” traveling among the mountains and rivers of the Azure Billow Continent, taking advantage of his peak cultivation to “overlook” and inscribe upper-grade talismans on the later pages of that True Traces of Scarlet Script. The quantity was quite considerable, but even after that, even during the sword trial at Mount Tuoyue, he never used them. Over three hundred talismans were locked by Chen Ping’an in a small wooden box that was “sealed by the mountain,” truly kept for a rainy day.

Chen Ping’an arrived at the mountain gate and sat at the table.

Cultivation could be borrowed, but personally drawing talismans still required consuming the spiritual energy accumulated within one’s own world. This spiritual energy depletion was the “capital” for drawing those three hundred talismans.

After estimating, according to the market price on the mountain, converting the spiritual energy of a cultivator into immortal money, Chen Ping’an could earn quite a bit if he chose to sell that box of talismans.

However, because the talismans were of high quality, the grade of the mountain-sealing restriction also increased accordingly. At the time, Chen Ping’an felt that since he was already in the Jade Purity Realm, entering the Immortal Realm wouldn’t be too difficult, so he dug a rather large pit for himself. As a result, after a trip to the Wild Desolate World, he directly fell to the Nascent Soul Realm and still hasn’t returned to Jade Purity, a bitterness he knows only too well.

When a Qi Refiner draws and activates a talisman, there are specific procedures for opening and closing the process.

As for martial artists drawing talismans, the flow of spiritual energy is as rapid as a flood breaking a dam, unstoppable.

Ultimately, he still hadn’t found the right method. But if one day he truly gained entry to the path, he believed there would be a different and new landscape.

Yu Province.

Life in the mountain dwelling, lodging in the temple, was simple and light, with more vegetables and less rich food. The tofu made by the temple itself was slightly sour. After several months of bland vegetarian meals, he had long forgotten the taste of meat. The Confucian scholar once thought of buying fish and returning to cook it himself, but even as a guest, this act would violate the precepts and might arouse jealousy among the mountain monks, so he had to give up.

There were no mirrors in the mountains, making it difficult to see oneself. Only when copying scriptures and writing characters each day could he see the gradually exposed sinews of his fingers.

The paper in the temple was coarse, and the brush felt like a heavy donkey climbing a mountain. During breaks, the Confucian scholar shook his wrists and stroked his temples, likely the same color as the white clouds.

At night, the Confucian scholar studied Buddhist scriptures under the lamp. The temple bells whispered to each other, and the starlight was so close to the rooftop that one could use a bamboo pole to knock down a star or two to replace the candles.

In the morning, he rose to the sound of the bell. The Confucian scholar put on his clothes and shoes, opened the door and windows, and white clouds rushed in, unstoppable, thick clouds like a quilt.

He felt as if he were sitting in chaos, unable to see his fingers in front of his face. His mouth and nose were filled with nothing but cloud vapor, dizzy as if drunk. The Confucian scholar murmured with a smile, not expecting there to be cloud wine in the world.

As the fog thinned slightly, the young novice monks, who had not yet been ordained, brought food boxes on time. Amidst the chanting of the monks, the Confucian scholar with frost-white temples ate his breakfast alone in the clouds: a large bowl of white rice porridge, two side dishes for the porridge, a plate of fermented tofu, and a plate of dried salted vegetables. The Confucian scholar raised his head and occasionally saw a colorful butterfly playing in the clouds, reaching the eaves of the house, trapped by an old spider web, its wings flapping unable to escape. The Confucian scholar put down his bowl, rose, and used an old bamboo root walking stick from the house to poke the web and save the butterfly. The Confucian scholar returned to the table and, as he chewed slowly, saw the broken spider web and felt a question arise in his heart, which he wanted to ask the abbot. After finishing his meal, he went out for a walk, examining the “Precept Platform Ritual” along the eaves, with its strict rules and regulations, occasionally noticing a misspelling.

Today, a distinguished guest climbed the mountain and entered the temple gate, accompanied by a dozen servants. The leading person, about fifty years old, spoke elegantly and used official jargon, walking slowly with dignity, extremely majestic. The abbot did not greet him, only the reception monk lowered his head and spoke with a smile. The servants were all given vegetarian food in the guest hall, often accompanied by loud laughter. The distinguished guest and the reception monk traveled together, stopping in front of the “Precept Platform Ritual,” his hands clasped behind his back, staring at the engraved words. The distinguished guest was silent for a long time, asking the reception monk about the inscribed words, whether it was made of red copper or plated with gold.

After the rain had cleared, spring made one easily drowsy. The Confucian scholar had just finished his afternoon nap when the familiar little novice monk knocked on the window and called out urgently, “Mr. Chen, Mr. Chen, the Mountain Spirit Immortal Lord has once again driven five-colored clouds to the Manjusri Terrace at Gathering Immortals Cliff! It is worth seeing.”

The Confucian scholar left the temple and climbed the mountain with the little novice monk, using the bamboo cane to push away the dead wood and pine branches on the mountain path.

Often, elegant scholars would dig up old bamboo roots to make walking sticks. Especially some ancient vines in the mountains with long years, used to make walking sticks, were the favorites of many older officials and nobles, priced at a high value.
The mountain boasts numerous peaks, perpetually veiled in mist and cloud, unwilling to reveal their countenances to the mundane eyes of the world below. The terrain is treacherous, the paths winding and steep, with temples towering above the clouds.

Gazing up at the peaks, the curling wisps of cloud and smoke seem to offer counsel and guidance, like intimate conversations with the Dao.

At the foot of the mountain, a temple stands that, while famed throughout the history of Treasure Bottle洲, receives only a trickle of incense. The temples higher up the slopes, small and nameless, see even less.

Near the summit, only one temple clings to the mountain’s side, isolated amongst the clouds. Its meditation halls are humble. A scholar and a young novice monk have visited it several times, only to be greeted by the barks of a mountain hound. No mountain monks offer welcome.

Here, the mountain winds are sharp and cold. Even in the sweltering depths of summer, it is said that the monks must still wear padded robes. Throughout the year, no cooling fan is needed. Travelers from afar sometimes come to escape the heat, remarking that the world below is experiencing a scorching summer.

Within the courtyard lies a small pond, two chi deep, never overflowing in flood, never drying up in drought. Its waters are like an ancient Buddha, devoid of sound or taste. The scholar has examined the stone and earth of its construction, finding no evidence of streams flowing down from the mountain.

Beside the ancient temple is Gathering Immortal Cliff, upon which a pavilion has been built.

Each time the scholar comes here to view the sea of clouds, he adopts a strange posture, his left hand forming a fist at his waist.

Then, the young novice monk will hear a series of bizarre sounds. He strains his ears to listen, convinced that it’s some kind of Buddhist incantation. He can only discern the first and last syllables, which sound like the muffled tolling of an ancient bell or the lowing of an ox. The sounds weaken in the middle, before culminating in a sudden, thunderous boom.

Curious, the young novice monk asks what it is. The scholar merely smiles and says that he will know when the time is right.

On the path up the mountain, the young novice monk’s legs are strong. He walks several li without losing his breath, casually asking, “Mister Chen, what does it mean to cultivate a tranquil mind?”

The patrolling monks in the temples say that there is a mountain lord in these mountains, known as a “big cat.” Its teeth are larger than a man’s, as big as an ox, and it seems to possess intelligence, but it never harms anyone.

The scholar smiles. “To wash rice when washing rice, to eat when eating, to chant scriptures when chanting scriptures, to strike the bell when striking the bell, to sleep when sleeping.”

“Mister Chen, those are all principles that are already written in the books. The abbot has also told us.”

“Then, let me give you an example from my own life. When I speak with you, my state of mind is similar to when I chat with seniors like Bai Ye and Yu Xuan. That is what’s meant by a tranquil mind. But it’s difficult. I’ve been pondering this question repeatedly over the years.”

“Who are they? Are they important figures?”

“Yes, they are remarkable individuals, and also worthy and respectable heroes and sages.”

The young novice monk rubs his bald head. “I understand. Whether Mister Chen is rich or poor, I should respect him equally.”

The scholar smiles knowingly. “Very good. That’s called having innate wisdom.”

The young novice monk says shyly, “If that’s what innate wisdom is, then it’s not worth much at all.”

The scholar laughs. “Innate wisdom is like the breath of heaven and earth that you and I inhale. Whether it’s valuable or not depends on how you see it.”

The young novice monk hesitates before saying, “Mister Chen, can I ask you for a favor?”

Mister Chen is a man of high regard. He writes scriptures in beautiful small calligraphy. Monks in the temple who ask him for calligraphy samples, fan paintings, or couplets are all politely refused.

The scholar seems to guess what the young novice monk is thinking and shakes his head, smiling. “That matter is not up for discussion.”

The young novice monk sighs.

This time, they don’t go to the small temple, heading straight to the Gathering Immortal Cliff’s mountain pavilion to admire the scenery. After watching the clouds for a while, the scholar once again adopts the posture of holding his left fist at his waist. As for the mantra he recites, it is the Samantabhadra Vajrasattva mantra of esoteric Buddhism, following the ritual of visualizing oneself before the sea of offering clouds, upon a white lotus moon wheel throne.

A stranger arrives outside the pavilion. The young novice monk quickly lowers his head, pressing his palms together in a gesture of respect.

He looks at the gaunt scholar with graying temples, as thin as a wild crane.

Yuan Huajing asks in puzzlement, “Is it you?”

The scholar in the Confucian robes also asks in bewilderment, “Are you…?”

Yuan Huajing says with a cold smile, “It is you, indeed.”

Appearances and demeanor can be changed, but those eyes are still annoying to Yuan Huajing.

No wonder there were many “fair comments” inserted into the strictly worded and formal intelligence reports from the Ministry of Justice in Great Li.

Some of the comments, which originated from local sword cultivators on the Great Wall of Sword Qi, were enough to leave Yuan Huajing speechless. Gai Yan and the others would spit out their food and drink whenever they brought them up at the dinner table.

From afar, he’s A Liang; up close, he’s the Hidden Official. The dogs are truly dogs, each one more of a dog than the other.

Yuan Huajing couldn’t quite understand it. Logically, the Great Wall of Sword Qi should have a positive impression of these two outsiders, the sword cultivator and the scholar. Yet, their “reputation” was so poor. While there was no malice involved, the unrestrained and unreserved way they were ridiculed still shocked those who hadn’t been to the Great Wall of Sword Qi.

It was like the Grand Tutor, Cui Chan, or the Sword Immortal of Wind and Snow Temple, Wei Jin. How could anyone in Treasure Bottle Continent casually make fun of them?

When Chen Pingan sees that he has been recognized, he says with his mind, “During our sparring matches in the capital, it seems like you never used your natal flying sword. Was it because you knew you couldn’t win anyway, so you simply hid it away? Or is it something that shouldn’t be revealed, temporarily unable to see the light of day?”

Yuan Huajing remains silent.

Chen Pingan smiles. “It doesn’t matter. Everyone has shadows under the sun.”

Yuan Huajing still doesn’t speak. After hesitating, he steps up the stairs and enters the pavilion.

The young novice monk thinks for a moment, then bids farewell to the two friends who seem to have met in a foreign land and goes to see the scenery elsewhere.

Chen Pingan lifts the hem of his long robe and sits down, crossing his legs. He pats his knee and smiles. “Is this place a summer retreat for Sword Immortal Yuan?”

Although this mountain is scenic, it has never been the site of divine sacrifices or imperial rituals. The mountain is like a person, a true recluse.

Chen Pingan says, “It really is a good place to escape the world and relax. It’s clear that Sword Immortal Yuan truly embraces poverty and finds pleasure in simplicity.”

Yuan Huajing says, “You don’t need to say these insincere pleasantries.”

Chen Pingan sighs and complains, “Pleasantries? I get along best with Sword Immortal Yuan. Friends don’t hold back their words. I was just being sarcastic.”

Yuan Huajing is momentarily speechless. Indeed, among the nine Earthly Branches in the Great Li capital, he was the least compatible with Chen Pingan.
Yuan Huajing collected his emotions and said calmly, “In my early years, I happened to pass by on the wind. I liked the tranquility here, and I would come here for a while every year when I had leisure time. The nine of us have identities that can’t be exposed, so it’s not good to show our faces. Almost everyone has a similar place to relax. We hide our names, change our appearances, and when nothing happens, we change to another identity. For example, Gai Yan opened that immortal inn in the capital. Lu Hui is a county sheriff in a nearby county, Han Zhoujin opened a shop in a central county, became the owner himself, and did some border tea trade. Some even receive a salary as a proofreader in the Secretariat.”

Chen Pingan nodded, “Relaxed and measured. A cultivator cannot always be so tightly strung.”

Yuan Huajing asked, “What are you doing here?”

Chen Pingan smiled, “Subduing the restless mind.”

Although Chen Pingan was far from being a friend with Yuan Huajing, even if they weren’t friends, they could still chat.

When Chen Pingan went down the mountain and returned to the temple at the foot of the mountain, it was already dark. He ground ink in his residence, spread out paper, and wrote a sentence:

*Away from all inverted dreams and delusions.*

At the summit of Splash-Ink Peak.

Lu Chen smiled slightly, “If we don’t deliberately talk about mysteries, the saying ‘seeing is believing, hearing is deceiving’ is generally correct.”

Shaking his wrist, Lu Chen said, “Human relationships are as fickle as the palm of the hand, and the ways of the world are as ever-changing as a turning wheel.”

Between his words, Lu Chen flicked his finger, and a wisp of clear wind brushed the brow of a Daoist Celestial Lord.

After that, Cao Rong seemed to have his “eyes opened,” and his vision followed the past gaze of his master, Lu Chen, clearly seeing an old painting of the river of time.

*The scenery is familiar from before.*

Cao Rong couldn’t help but look at the scenery.

Anyway, closing his eyes was useless.

Just saying what he saw in his dreams, was it relying on his eyes?

Cao Rong sat cross-legged, with his palms facing upwards, stacked on his abdomen, treating it as a session of Daoist observation.

A young Daoist priest pushed a two-wheeled wooden cart, the cartwheels rumbling on the uneven dirt road, entering a dimly lit alley.

The Daoist priest muttered, “May Buddha bless us, may Bodhisattva manifest.”

He stopped outside a courtyard gate, and the Daoist knocked and called out. After a moment, a dark and thin straw-shoe boy finally opened the door.

Then came a bit of casual conversation.

The boy mentioned that he had a good memory.

According to Chen Pingan’s subsequent explanation, he remembered things easier when he saw them than when he heard about them.

At this time, Lu Chen, as if annotating or interpreting an ancient text, smiled and commented, “Pay attention here, ‘more’. The boy used this word very cleverly.”

As for how good his memory was, the Daoist asked the boy to give an example.

The boy then said that in his hometown, pottery was made, and there was a skill called ‘jumping knife’ in the wheel-throwing process.

This skill had a high barrier to entry. In the many dragon kilns in the town, Master Yao was the best.

But when he was an apprentice kiln worker, he remembered all the details after seeing it only once.

As Cao Rong watched this, and Lu Chen “heard” this, he continued, “Just like the various Daoist lineages of White Jade Capital, there are many thunder techniques passed down. Almost all of the Five Cities and Twelve Towers are involved, but Pang Ding, who is recognized as the highest expert in thunder techniques, showed off his hidden skills, and then a Daoist boy who hadn’t even been conferred a title, looked at it a few times from afar, and said that he saw it clearly and mastered all the ‘semblance’. Cao Rong, what do you think of this Daoist boy’s cultivation aptitude?”

Cao Rong sincerely praised, “Extremely good, shockingly good, enough to be called outstanding.”

Pang Ding, the city lord of Spiritual Treasure City, whose Daoist name was “Empty Heart,” was hailed as the number one expert in thunder techniques under the Azure Sky.

Lu Chen said, “This kind of skill, to put it broadly, can be roughly understood as a kind of ‘cutting’. It is now one of the sword techniques created by Chen Pingan himself.”

“But at that time, it was called being willing but unable. As Chen Pingan himself said, seeing every detail of Master Yao’s so clearly also meant seeing every mistake of his own so clearly. The more mistakes, the more anxious he became, and the more anxious he became, the more mistakes he made.”

In the same village, two equally poor people with no money, one was an illiterate pauper, and the other was a poor scholar who had read a few books. Their perceptions of pain, its depth, breadth, length, were all different.

It lay in understanding.

Knowing many whys, but being unable to solve the problem, might be the root of the pain.

This was actually the crux of many scholars.

What they knew in their hearts was one path, and what they walked on was another.

It was inconsistency between knowledge and action, tracing back to its source, it was actually inconsistency between body and mind, the body was here, and the mind was elsewhere.

Therefore, the more delicate the mind, the more heart-wrenching the pain.

The wrong words, the wrong deeds, the feeling of regret, stretched out like a line on that unattainable path beside them, making people unable to bear to look back, afraid to turn their heads.

Lu Chen smiled slightly, “Back then, I was pushing a cart, looking for a new home to take over this most troublesome little girl in the world. Actually, Chen Pingan could have not opened the door, pretending he didn’t hear it. But he heard the knock, recognized the poor Daoist’s voice, confirmed his identity as the Daoist who told fortunes by the roadside, and still opened the door.”

“At that time, Chen Pingan said ‘but,’ and then there was nothing more. He hadn’t read much, had little ink in his belly, but many thoughts in his head. Many heartfelt words couldn’t be said, and even if he said them, they might not be able to express his meaning, so it was better not to say them.”

Cao Rong laughed and said, “The first difficulty in life is just speaking.”

“So I continued with a sentence, ‘But’ the hands and feet can never keep up with the thoughts.”

Hearing Lu Chen’s words at the time, the straw-shoe boy, who always gave people a feeling of twilight, had his eyes light up.

And what Cao Rong saw, or rather, what the master saw in the poor boy at that moment, was that the whole person’s aura suddenly changed.

It was as if a meticulous painting that had been only black and white suddenly turned into a colorful and vivid freehand painting.

Speaking of this, Lu Chen’s face was full of smiles, “Chen Pingan was like meeting a kindred spirit.”

Then Lu Chen used another metaphor, “It’s more like a thirsty person with a dry heart meeting a passerby holding a ladle of water by the roadside.”

In this painting of time, the boy then said two more sentences. He didn’t understand, but he mostly remembered them. In fact, he remembered all the details after seeing them only once.
Lu Chen said, “The phrase ‘mostly’ used earlier was a general statement. But after I explained Ning Yao’s physical condition and he believed it, the phrase ‘all’ was used later.”

“You must understand, Chen Ping’an is an extremely cautious person, someone who is very fond of self-denial.”

“So when he says ‘all,’ it must be a moment of extreme certainty, a truth he is absolutely sure of.”

“That was Chen Ping’an’s state of mind at that time. Precisely because he doubted the world, he found a few life-saving straws and held on tight.”

Cao Rong said, “This seems different from many people. Precisely because of doubt, they become even more distrustful and choose to deny.”

“Denying oneself, affirming others. It’s like slapping oneself in the face.”

Lu Chen nodded and smiled, “How many people in the world enjoy slapping themselves in the face, inviting trouble when they’re already full?”

“Besides, you’ve overlooked a detail. The connection between Chen Ping’an’s two sentences is very interesting. There’s an unconscious, natural… bridge, which can be interpreted as a kind of equivalent exchange. It comes from Chen Ping’an’s intuition. Almost all Taoists are also healers. They would understand how important a person’s ‘awareness’ or ‘physical sensation’ is. Ultimately, awareness and physical sensation are a cultivator’s own small world within their body’s keen perception of the great world outside.”

Lu Chen sighed, “Based on this alone, Chen Ping’an deserves the praise of being a ‘earthly material’.”

The so-called “earthly material” refers to the Earth Immortal aptitude of ancient times.

Cao Rong nodded.

Lu Chen said with a calm expression, “It seems we all have a tendency to destroy everything beautiful.”

Cao Rong asked, “In the Confucian debate between the three and four, did Master lean towards the Literary Saint?”

Lu Chen smiled without answering.

In the river of time, a Taoist’s seemingly casual words might mean that the master never intended to guide Chen Ping’an through the doorway in the first place.

Cao Rong raised his head, his expression strange.

Lu Chen nodded and smiled, “Naturally, it was intentional, with ulterior motives, filled with murderous intent.”

The boy, however, said he was not as good as an ordinary apprentice, let alone compared to Liu Xianyang, so it was not surprising.

Cao Rong said, “A state of tranquility.”

Lu Chen mocked, “I was subtly suggesting that he might as well affirm himself by denying others, but he affirmed others by denying himself.”

“I comforted him, saying that ‘a stable heart’ is rare and that he shouldn’t look down on himself.”

Lu Chen smiled, “In the end, Chen Ping’an seemed to open up and became more talkative. He even gave me an analogy, saying that two people, each standing in shallow and deep water, caught fish, and then asked me if the two were different. At that time, I almost blurted out a question, asking him if two people, whether they bent down to catch fish in shallow water or dived into deep water, caught the same fish, would they be the same or different.”

Cao Rong pondered for a moment and asked, “Master, I have a question.”

Lu Chen guessed his thoughts and smiled, “You can’t understand at all why Chen Ping’an doesn’t have even a trace of jealousy towards his friend Liu Xianyang?”

Cao Rong nodded.

Lu Chen rested his chin in his hand, silent for a moment, “Buddhism has the saying of adding a bed on a bed, which is of course derogatory. If you ask where to find the Buddha, don’t add a head on a head.”

“Then, what about building a high-rise on flat ground, or climbing another floor to see a thousand miles further? Using one state of mind to defeat another?”

“Care. As a verb, ‘small-ing’ one’s heart, reaching the ultimate state, isn’t that the Taoist ‘fasting of the heart’?”

“Or like building a Jingguan, piles of corpses, accumulated into mountains, with one living person standing at the highest point, only standing for oneself. This person is not killing people, but committing suicide. Specifically killing countless thieves in the heart.”

Cao Rong cautiously asked, “Why does Master care so much about Chen Ping’an?”

Lu Chen folded his hands in his sleeves, “I once had a whimsical idea, but I won’t tell you, lest it scare you and collapse your Dao heart on the spot.”

“How difficult is it to find a suitable reference object?”

“You looking for me, Lu Chen, definitely won’t work. Lu Chen looking for his two senior brothers, or that Qi Jingchun, won’t work either.”

Lu Chen slowly said, “Those who know, things do not harm oneself, and oneself does not hinder things.”

Cao Rong said with a solemn expression, “Obtain its center, to respond to infinity.”

Lu Chen smiled, “This viewing of the Dao is not in vain.”

As if Master had put away that scroll of time, what Cao Rong saw at this moment was the scenery of this world.

Lu Chen stood up, “Cao Rong, you also cultivate talismans. What do you think is the significance of Chen Ping’an going to so much trouble, risking danger, and devoting so much of his mind?”

Cao Rong said, “The pinnacle of a martial artist, with a flourishing Qi, requires a panoramic view of mountains and rivers.”

Lu Chen first nodded and then shook his head, “That’s one of the reasons, but it’s very secondary.”

After a moment of silence, Lu Chen turned his head and smiled, “Having you take a path of ascending to immortality was my deliberate attempt to trick you. Otherwise, with your cultivation talent, there would be many paths to proving the Dao and ascending, but this is the only one you are destined not to take.”

Cao Rong was not too shocked, nor was he the slightest bit resentful, only puzzled, not knowing Master’s intentions. He softly said, “I beg Master to enlighten me.”

Lu Chen said, “Cao Rong, you must begin to doubt where there is no doubt in order to truly have no doubt.”

Lu Chen reached out his hand, using his finger as a brush, and wrote the character “doubt” in the air, then wrote a long string of words and idioms related to doubt.

Ordinary people, if they stare at a certain character for a long time, and then close their eyes and open them again, they may not recognize the character.

Lu Chen sighed and said without warning, “Buddhism says that greed, anger, ignorance, arrogance, and doubt are the five poisonous hearts, creating evil karma and hindering cultivation.”

Cao Rong nodded, “Without removing the five hearts, so-called meditation is ultimately evil concentration, and the supernatural powers cultivated are ultimately not righteous Dharma. The inner demons of cultivators come from this.”

The tenets of the three religions, in many things, only differ in wording and phrasing, but in reality, the crucial points are connected.

Cao Rong suddenly understood something, unable to hide the surprise on his face, and asked, “Master, could it be that Chen Ping’an is forming an array with Taoist techniques, while simultaneously using Buddhist methods to eliminate the five hearts? Both fulfilling their respective duties, each cultivating themselves, and also protecting the Dao for themselves?”

Lu Chen nodded, “This is his true intention, hidden very deeply. That’s why when I appeared at the Bamboo Branch Sect’s Cutting Jade Mountain, he was uncharacteristically angry.”

“It’s not that he was worried that I would do something to ruin his plans, it’s just a common human emotion, afraid of being seen by others, being exposed, which leads to embarrassment turning into anger.”
“It’s fortunate that the first Chen Ping’an I encountered was Chen Jiu, the peripheral guest elder from the Bamboo Branch Sect, and not Chen Ren, the sword-bearing youth here, or any other variation. Otherwise, that fellow would surely turn hostile!”

Lu Chen inquired, “Take a guess, which aspect of Chen Ping’an is represented by the one at Joyous Mountain?”

Cao Rong replied, “Since the youth suffered a major illness, his temperament would likely be elevated. Could it be ‘Anger’?”

Lu Chen shook his head. “Wrong. It’s ‘Doubt.’ Hence, the scabbard he carries is empty.”

“Within Yu Province, there exists an ancient Vinaya Buddhist temple. The Buddhists say, cultivate precepts, concentration, and wisdom to extinguish greed, anger, and delusion.”

Lu Chen chuckled again, “A Confucian scholar, within a Vinaya temple in Great Li, copies Buddhist scriptures and cultivates Daoist thunder arts in his spare time. What vice do you think he seeks to eliminate?”

Cao Rong stated, “Naturally, it’s ‘Greed.'”

Lu Chen nodded. “That’s why I said earlier, ‘Dao gives him form, Heaven gives him appearance.’ To copy landscapes, one must first capture the essence of the landscape outside the painting. What is captured is precisely the restless mind, the heart-devil.”

“The Mountain Master Chen Ping’an who remains at Fallen Phoenix Mountain represents ‘Delusion,’ and thus he is responsible for collecting all the sights, thoughts, and feelings of all the clones, to break through the veil of ignorance.”

“The Daoist Wu Di, who sets up a stall in the Jade Proclamation Kingdom’s capital, is ‘Anger,’ even though his enemies are within arm’s reach. So Chen Ping’an intentionally fans the flames, using this to temper his Daoist heart.”

“The Fallen Phoenix Mountain’s Mountain Master, the last Hidden Officer of the Sword Qi Great Wall, what prestige he commanded during the Grand Ceremony at Righteous Sun Mountain! Yet, he went to Jade Cutting Mountain, not far from Righteous Sun Mountain, to become a peripheral guest elder for the Bamboo Branch Sect, a mere subordinate mountain to Righteous Sun Mountain. Isn’t that incredibly… arrogant?”

Cao Rong was stunned into silence, and after a long pause, couldn’t help but ask, “Where is Chen Ping’an’s true body?”

Lu Chen smiled, “In a remote rural village, working as a village school teacher, having relinquished all his identities and supernatural powers, indistinguishable from ordinary mortals.”

Cao Rong was speechless.

What was going on in this Mountain Master Chen’s mind?

“Furthermore, Chen Ping’an’s actions are akin to sword practice. He wishes to temper two natal flying swords, forging three thousand Minor Worlds. But you can take this as just something you heard, don’t spread it around carelessly. Chen Ping’an respects you quite a bit, so he probably won’t chop you up, but he has a good relationship with me, so he won’t stand on ceremony with me.”

Lu Chen playfully asked, “Cao Rong, do you still think Chen Ping’an’s actions are a losing proposition?”

A Big Dipper Formation, seven visible and two hidden, a total of nine clones.

This would require the use of nine talismans, two of which are extremely rare azure talismans, treasures that any Confucian scholar of virtue, Daoist True Lord, or Buddhist Arhat would have to use with extreme caution. Once these talisman clones are released, the spiritual energy leakage can be replenished, but it will consume the talisman paper itself, so there is a time limit, unless you close the mountain gate and seal it off.

Cao Rong sighed deeply, “Worthy of being someone who could become a Hidden Officer as an outsider cultivator.”

Lu Chen chuckled, “You think that’s impressive? Actually, Chen Ping’an has another layer of cultivation method, the ‘Six Arts’ passed down by the Most Sage Teacher, as well as the saying ‘The virtuous man has three paths.’ All nine clones are not idle. If you’re interested, you can guess what their respective duties are. I won’t reveal the secrets of heaven to you.”

Cao Rong shook his head. “This disciple won’t bother with such thoughts.”

At worst, if he encounters Chen Ping’an in the future, he can just go around him. If he can’t, he can just exchange a few pleasantries, and comment on the nice weather.

Lu Chen said, “After all, it’s cultivation, it’s not that simple. In the future, there may be a self-composed poem or lyrics by Master Confucius, with a preface…”

Young and impoverished, fond of reading, practiced boxing at fourteen, learned swordsmanship at fifteen.