The sun, a molten eye in the sky, cast long shadows across the bamboo groves of Crooked Mountain as Wei Bo arrived at the humble lodgings. Lord Chen, master of this humble peak, had summoned him on matters of import, a request the Mountain Lord of North Peak had dutifully answered.

Chen Ping’an rose from a stone table perched precariously on the cliff’s edge, a welcoming smile gracing his lips. “Old Cook asks that I convey a message,” he said, his voice light. “He wonders if it might be possible to acquire a plot of land on Cloud-Veil Mountain, a place to escape the summer’s heat.”

Wei Bo’s brow furrowed. “For this alone?”

Surely, this trifle did not warrant pulling him away from his duties. The Mountain Lord’s thoughts drifted to his own secluded estate on Cloud-Veil, a sprawling and meticulously crafted haven. There, in his reading room, two ancient pines, transplanted from a former princely estate, stood sentinel. Their boughs, heavy with needles, formed a verdant canopy. From beneath their shade, one could gaze upon a vista where, when clouds gathered at the mountain’s foot, only the peaks of Crooked Mountain and other distant lands remained visible, resembling a landscape painted by the master Mi Fu. A lotus pond graced the grounds, its leaves like upturned parasols. In the sweltering heat, one could moor a boat, cast a few watermelons into the cool depths, and drift into a sun-drenched slumber. The scent of lotus would cling to one’s robes, and upon awakening, one could retrieve the melons, their flesh as cold and refreshing as if drawn from a winter cellar, a testament that even in the height of summer, paradise could be found.

Chen Ping’an, ever direct, opened the true matter. “Of course, there is more. According to my mentor, the Five Mountain Lords of Jewel Vase Continent possess the right to propose their own divine titles, though ultimate approval rests with the Temple of Literature. Have you and Lord Jin considered this? If so, begin your preparations. I will speak with my mentor and Senior Brother Mao, lending what little influence I possess to the discussions within the Temple.”

Wei Bo was taken aback. “The Temple of Literature has said nothing of this.”

Indeed, the awarding of divine titles to the Five Sacred Mountains had been kept closely guarded. Yet, secrets are as elusive as smoke, and whispers had found their way to the highest peaks. The impending bestowal of titles had become a matter of lively speculation. Lord Jin Qing, Mountain Lord of Central Peak, had even sent a letter by flying sword, inquiring if the rumors were true, noting Chen Ping’an’s close ties to the Temple. If such a thing were indeed in motion, Lord Jin said, Wei Bo need not reply, for he would immediately begin preparations for a grand celebratory feast. Wei Bo, unable to feign ignorance, responded that he was occupied, and Lord Chen even more so, suggesting that Lord Jin either seek confirmation directly from Chen Ping’an or pursue other avenues of information.

“The Temple will not offer it freely,” Chen Ping’an observed. “They prefer to avoid complications.”

He chuckled. “The bestowal of divine titles by the Temple is seen as inviolable, a rule etched in stone since the time of the Sage of Rites. But the archives tell a different tale. One must delve deep to discover that Mountain Lords and Great River Dukes may, in truth, propose their own titles.”

Wei Bo was silent for a moment, then bowed in gratitude.

Despite the widespread belief that he and Cloud-Veil Mountain were as close to Crooked Mountain as the skin on a peach, such a momentous matter demanded formal acknowledgment.

Chen Ping’an launched into a tale woven from half-truths and deliberate fabrications. “Urgency is the word! The Temple is pressing us. Thus, I took the liberty of suggesting that you favored the title ‘Night Wanderer.’ My mentor concurred, deeming it a fitting choice, beneficial to the mountain’s energies. He foresees that, in time, the name of Cloud-Veil Mountain will be ever more frequently spoken by cultivators throughout the land, written in mountain journals…”

Wei Bo’s face grew ashen, and he stifled the urge to unleash a torrent of curses. Without allowing Chen Ping’an to finish, he whirled around, sleeves snapping like thunder, intent on returning to his mountain estate.

Cloud-Veil Mountain must immediately dispatch a letter to the Temple, declaring a willingness to accept any title but “Night Wanderer.”

Chen Ping’an, with a swiftness that belied his nonchalant demeanor, seized Wei Bo’s arm, preventing his departure. “What troubles you, Mountain Lord?” he asked with feigned innocence. “Has your cultivation of tranquility failed you?”

Wei Bo, teeth clenched, spat, “Are you not content until I am made a laughingstock throughout the Temple and the Central Continent?”

A hint of guilt flickered in Chen Ping’an’s eyes. It was perhaps true that the famed Night Wanderer’s feasts of Jewel Vase Continent had reached even the ears of the Azure Heavens.

Moreover, the ever-mischievous Lu Chen, true to his nature, would surely spread the tale upon his return to Jade Capital. He must caution Lu Chen, lest Wei Bo misinterpret his intentions.

Chen Ping’an gently guided Wei Bo back to the table. “Do you truly loathe ‘Night Wanderer’ so?”

Wei Bo’s reply was a chilling laugh. “What do you think?”

Chen Ping’an shrugged. “One-Punch Daoist, Distant Glimpse of Ah Liang, Close Inspection Reveals Hidden Official, such nicknames are legion. Learn from me.”

Wei Bo scoffed, “There is a difference between humility and utter shamelessness.”

Chen Ping’an, probing, asked, “Will you not reconsider? It is written that one should not make promises in times of great joy, nor give answers in the heat of anger. I believe there is wisdom in that.”

Wei Bo was resolute. “I will not. If you have nothing further to discuss, I shall return to my duties. Do not imagine I am idle. I attend countless councils within my mountain estate.”

Chen Ping’an said, “I have promised the Sage of Rites a detailed proposal. I have poured my efforts into it, crafting nearly three hundred thousand words. With minor revisions, it will be sent to the Temple. We could include your name, increasing the likelihood of your proposed title gaining approval.”

Wei Bo’s expression softened. “Spare me. The Temple is not foolish. My clumsy participation would be a source of mockery.”

Chen Ping’an grinned. “Do you take me for a fool? If your name is attached, you will write tens of thousands of words yourself!”

Wei Bo was intrigued. “On what subject?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “I will show you the draft. If you are inclined, write your contribution within ten days, then deliver it to the Temple, addressed to the scribe Xi Ping. If you find nothing to add, or if you prefer not to lend your name, simply return it to me. One last piece of advice: regarding the designation of Cloud-Veil Mountain as the ‘Night Wanderer,’ I, my mentor, and Lu Chen all agree it is the finest choice.”

Wei Bo nodded. “I will review the draft before deciding.”

Chen Ping’an withdrew three hefty volumes from his sleeve. “Read them with care.”

Wei Bo tucked the volumes away. “Is there more?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “His Imperial Majesty may soon travel incognito to Yu Zhang Prefecture. I will visit the logging yards. Would you care to join me?”

Wei Bo hesitated. “The Emperor has departed sooner than expected. He may already have entered Yu Prefecture.”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “I see. I will proceed on my own, then, and not burden you with my company.”

As Wei Bo returned to Cloud-Veil Mountain, Chen Ping’an walked along a path behind Crooked Mountain with a hulking phantom beside him, the form of a warrior. Finally free from imprisonment, the being savored each breath of this outside world.

It was Silver Deer, former deputy lord of the desolate and haunted Immortal Hairpin City. Chen Ping’an had captured a portion of its soul and spirit, holding him captive while tasking it with chronicling the forbidden lore of the desolate lands. Silver Deer, ever mindful of his plight, filled endless pages, and had written volumes.

Weakened by his fractured state, Silver Deer dared not do otherwise. Silver Deer poured out every flattering word he could muster, praising Chen Ping’an, declaring the grounds of this domain as the finest on earth.

Chen Ping’an bore it without a hint of embarrassment, allowing Silver Deer to demean himself, until Silver Deer faltered, realizing he’d used up all his skills.

Silver Deer asked cautiously, “Lord Hidden Official, to speak with sincerity, with every step my wretched form takes, I fear defiling this beautiful place.”

Chen Ping’an smiled slightly. “Is that so? Then perhaps you should return to your prison.”

Silver Deer stumbled, no longer daring to speak another word.

Chen Ping’an raised a hand, and a duster appeared across his arm.

Silver Deer felt a stab of fear. “Lord Hidden Official, perhaps I should return.”

During his time in captivity, Silver Deer had known nothing but misery. Every few days, Chen Ping’an had reviewed his progress, materializing behind the writing Silver Deer and slamming a brick upon its head, sending the creature sprawling. Chen Ping’an only relented if a passage caught his eye, then leaving the brick as a warning.

Chen Ping’an smiled faintly. “It’s rare that you get to enjoy this air. Are you denying me the chance to show hospitality?”

Silver Deer bowed, hurrying to clarify. “I only fear that outsiders may see and misunderstand, thinking you consort with demons. I would never want to disgrace you, Lord Hidden Official.”

Chen Ping’an said, “I wonder what the owner of that hairpin and your progenitor would think, seeing their descendants.”

Silver Deer sighed. “They would turn away in disgust, wishing they had never seen us. They would refuse to rest in the city, even passing it by.”

The founder of Immortal Hairpin City had been Lady Gui Lingxiang, a woman who had inherited the ancient hairpin.

The city’s second lord had been an insect who had hidden along the road to the underworld.

After that, there had been the demon Crowsong, and the ruler who had been killed by the executioner Hao Su.

For ten thousand years, the highest territory of the desert had been Hairpin City, until this Hidden Official of the Sword Wall had stepped in.

The duster Chen Ping’an carried could be considered a treasure. It had a purple wood hilt, and more than three thousand white strands that led to a gold ring.

Chen Ping’an planned to offer this duster to the ancestral hall of Soaring Ascension City.

Silver Deer asked cautiously, “That cultivator who passed us at the entrance earlier, who was he?”

Chen Ping’an switched hands. “Lu Wei. He practices the Yin-Yang school and he’s at a bottleneck. He comes from the Lu family of the Central Continent. Consider him a friend.”

Silver Deer fell silent, not because of the Lu family, but because it felt he recognized the duster. Could it be that his progenitor had also fallen?

Chen Ping’an asked casually, “What would you do if you were at odds with the Lu family?”

Silver Deer took his time, and then answered cautiously, “Even in the city, I had heard the name. To fight them would be to fight a master of the Fourteenth Realm! I would hide somewhere or attach myself to someone who could fight the Lu. If the animosity ran deep and they were after my head, I would run to the Hundred Thousand Mountains.”

Chen Ping’an offered no judgment. “Don’t follow me anymore. Stroll to the front of Crooked Mountain, but don’t go beyond the gates, or suffer the consequences.”

Silver Deer didn’t dare to wander, for it feared an unkind look would lead to his death. It seemed safest to remain near Chen Ping’an, but it didn’t know how to say so. After all, in Hairpin City, he was used to others flattering him.

Chen Ping’an said, “When in Rome. How can you not understand these basic concepts?”

Silver Deer despaired. If only Chen Ping’an had offered this consideration during their time at the Hairpin City.

All along the path, pavilions were scattered, each with a name that amazed Silver Deer.

Winged, Elevated, Above the Clouds, Full Moon, Empty Heart, Under Rain, Eight Winds…

One pavilion had the name “May You Live Long and Never Age.” The shortest name was just “Pavilion.”

A home came into view, white walls and black eaves sheltered by stalks of green bamboo. Chen Ping’an put the duster away. “Go.”

Silver Deer bowed. “As you command, Lord Hidden Official.”

Two young members of the Cao family lived and cultivated on the slopes of Crooked Mountain.

The gate was open, and the girl was practicing her martial arts in the courtyard. Chen Ping’an stopped at the gate, knocking gently. The girl recognized him and tensed.

This was their third meeting.

The first had been when she accompanied her lord to the bamboo lodge. It had been a brief encounter.

The second had been when Chen Ping’an personally gave her instruction. She had gained much from his teachings.

As Cao Ang vacillated, Cao Yin rushed out from the house, bowing. “Lord Chen.”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Feng Sheng, I heard that Little Wutong has reached the Fifth Realm, so I came to congratulate her. I won’t stay long. I don’t want to interrupt your cultivation.”

Cao Yin was a disciple from a distant line of the Cao family, and Cao Ang was Cao Yin’s junior apprentice.

The reason Cao Yin had not reached greater heights was that the Cao family did not wish him to be known too early.

Cao Ang had just achieved the Fifth Realm because of Chen Ping’an.

She could not help but be nervous, revering Chen Ping’an as a god.

Chen Ping’an entered the main hall, and Cao Ang soon returned with tea, her hands trembling. Chen Ping’an pretended not to notice, chatting with Cao Yin about his cultivation. The girl set the cup down, beads of sweat on her forehead. She did not sit, for the etiquette of noble families dictated one remain standing. Cao Yin had tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary at Crooked Mountain, but to no avail.

Chen Ping’an asked about their cultivation and chatted casually with Cao Yin, until Cao Ang relaxed.

Silver Deer walked on the road, anxious, as if fearful of stepping on a leaf.

He saw a strange girl dressed in black, carrying a bag and a staff. They stopped in front of each other. Silver Deer no longer had his immortal power, but his perceptions remained. He was certain that this was a minor water spirit. The robe that the spirit wore was unusual, but he knew better than to covet it.

The girl retreated to the side of the road, as if she was being made to face the wall as punishment.

Silver Deer attempted to look warm and kind. “I am Silver Deer, an alchemist brought to Crooked Mountain by Lord Hidden Official. And you are?”

The girl smiled. “I am Zhou Milu, Milu of Milu. I am a patrol official chosen by the lord of the mountain, a small one.”

Silver Deer was startled. Patrol official? Was there such a thing in Crooked Mountain? The Hidden Official had selected her, so she must be important. Silver Deer stepped forward. “So you’re the one who’s in charge of patrols. I was strolling with the Lord Hidden Official, and he allowed me to see the mountain.”

Zhou Milu grinned and reminded herself to keep her teeth covered, straightening. “How wonderful! I’ll take you. I know every inch of Crooked Mountain!”

Silver Deer considered. It was a good way to appear friendly. He might as well use this chance!

As they passed the pavilions, Milu told him the story of each one, praising Chen Ping’an for his talent. Silver Deer agreed. Milu offered him sunflower seeds, and he declined. Milu paused to put them back in her sleeve.

Up on a hill, in a pavilion, Little Mo leaned against a pillar, watching the girl below.

The girl in the fur hat stomped. “This Silver Deer is getting too comfortable! Do you want me to teach it a lesson?”

Little Mo said softly, “No need. Don’t interrupt Milu.”

Xie Gou pouted. “I don’t like seeing her being wronged!”

Xiao Mo smiled. “Don’t scare the water god of Jade Spring River anymore. It wasn’t appreciated.”

Xie Gou watched Little Mo. Little Mo was so warm. Xie Gou wanted to lean against her.

But Little Mo kept her away.

Xie Gou pressed her face into Little Mo’s hand, and Little Mo sighed. Was her lord trying to torture her?

Xie Gou was satisfied. “Jing Hao and the dragon Bai Deng are getting cozy with Chen Lingjun. How come he doesn’t just bring them to the mountain?”

Little Mo smiled. “Chen Lingjun snuck off, so Jing Qing told the others to pretend it was their first meeting. That way, Chen Lingjun will get praised instead of scolded.”

Xie Gou massaged her forehead. “Does Chen Lingjun think Lord Chen is a fool?”

Little Mo grinned. “Don’t doubt it. And Lord Chen will pretend to be ignorant.”

Xie Gou turned away. “Here he comes. Chen Lingjun just left to come here.”

A long time ago, Old Jia had said when drunk that Chen Ping’an and Zhou Milu were the best.

Xie Gou asked suddenly, “What if Silver Deer had been unable to resist and wanted the Hundred-Eyed Demon Robe?”

Little Mo said casually, “Then I’d send him to see his progenitor, Xuan Po.”

Xie Gou said, “Would Lord Chen allow it?”

Little Mo smiled. “Lord Chen let Silver Deer out for him to seek his own fate.”

Xie Gou said, “The guy has good luck.”

Down on the road, Silver Deer seemed to get along well with the girl.

Little Mo said, “He’s only just begun. The road ahead is long.”

Xie Gou muttered, “Bookworms are wicked.”

Little Mo stood up. “Bai Jing, I think Old Zhu is right. No personality is good or bad. They’re double-edged swords.”

Xie Gou nodded and skipped down the stairs.

Everything Old Zhu said was true, because he didn’t care about his looks.

Today, Chen Lingjun had gone to the town, sighed at the shopkeeper and said, “I’m too lazy to berate you for not improving.”

The mute boy had started to argue, and Chen Lingjun had gone next door to ask Tian Jiuer about cultivation before having a meal with the Thunder Duke and the Restless Duke.

It would be nice to help Tian Jiuer, a gentle, obedient girl.

Tian Jiuer was gifted, because her blood was a treasure, but it was a treasure she couldn’t use.

Old Cook had said that being able to draw talismans was innate. It couldn’t be forced.

Chen Lingjun pitied her, and he would drink with Old Jia to lament. Zheng Dafeng would say he liked Tian Jiuer, but Chen Lingjun did not.

As Chen Lingjun went up the mountain, he felt hesitant.

What if his lord didn’t like his friends?

At the mountain gate, Milu was sitting at the table with a guest.

The immortal guard was sitting in a chair and reading. Zheng Dafeng was probably still asleep.

Chen Lingjun coughed. “Milu, we have guests.”

Milu stood to greet them and boil water for tea.

The Restless Duke had been stunned by what he’d seen in the town.

Three thousand years ago, the location where the dragons had been slain had been here!

The true dragon lived down the path.

No wonder when Bai Deng had walked on Fortune Lane and Peach Leaf Lane, he’d felt both haunted and burned.

The sword sect had relocated north, and the head disciple was friends with Lord Chen.

How could this small place be so terrifying?

Bai Deng was shaken, and Jing Hao had noticed.

Lord Chen sat at the end of the mountain path.

He stood and appeared at the base of the mountain, smiling. “You have guests? Are they your friends?”

Chen Lingjun felt hesitant.

He had boasted to his friends of his position.

But in truth, Chen Lingjun was less important than the servants.

The Lord Chen was never mentioned, or you would learn of it on your own.

Chen Ping’an rubbed the boy’s head. “If they’re your friends, they’re friends of Crooked Mountain. Come, drink tea with us.”

Chen Ping’an turned to his guests. “I apologize for not greeting you sooner.”

Chen Ping’an was saying gracious words, but he was thinking, *If it wasn’t for Chen Lingjun, this man wouldn’t have been let in. We have nothing to ask of each other, so we should remain apart.*

*Bai Deng, you can ride a night boat. You’ll meet a friend there, the head of a city.*

Jing Hao paled and immediately recovered. *You’re honest, Lord Chen, and speak your mind. This trip is worth it, even if I’m turned away.*

Bai Deng tried to suppress his anger. *I will visit him when I get the chance.*

Compared to Chen Ping’an’s words to Jing Hao, Chen Lingjun could accept what had been said to Bai Deng.

Regardless of how they felt, Jing Hao and Bai Deng were stunned by Chen Lingjun’s importance.

Chen Lingjun heard none of it. *Lord, I promise it won’t happen again.*

Chen Ping’an said, “I don’t trust you. I’ll give you two more chances.”

Chen Lingjun brightened.

Ha, as long as Lord Chen was there, he’d be supported.

Chen Lingjun was kicked from behind by Zheng Dafeng. “Came to see your friends?”

Chen Lingjun crossed his arms. “No.”

Chen Ping’an narrowed his eyes, looking at someone walking on the path. One person he knew, but the other was unfamiliar.

Chen Qingliu.

The identity of his companion was unknown.

Little Mo arrived, and Xie Gou crackled with excitement.

Bai Deng took one look at the approaching man and felt like he wanted to kneel.

Jing Hao looked awkward.

Chen Lingjun followed their gazes, then broke into a smile, going up to hug his old friend.

Jing Hao and Bai Deng’s eyes twitched.

Chen Lingjun was punched by the poor student, who turned out to be stronger than he looked.

Chen Qingliu dusted his clothes. “You should have spent less time in a brothel.”

Chen Ping’an was standing next to Chen Lingjun.

Chen Qingliu looked at Chen Ping’an with respect and said, *This is Xin Ji An, my friend. Once, he wanted to go to the Sword Wall, so I brought him to Upended Mountain. More recently, he accompanied a disciple of the Saint of Literature to the desolate lands, where they met three powerful monsters. If there hadn’t been so many of them…*

Xie Gou stepped forward, but Little Mo held her.

Chen Qingliu glared at Bai Jing.

The newly arrived scholar in barbarian lands grinned. “In the desolate lands, everyone has heard of Lord Hidden Official.”

Chen Ping’an bowed.

One at the Sword Wall, one in the barbarian lands, juniors and seniors, they were all scholars.