The deer call out “呦呦,” feasting on the wild reeds. Long, long I yearn, for your verdant collar so near. If thoughts are pure, love between man and woman, how similar is it to seeking the Dao in the mountains?

“Master, this rain is falling… differently,” Ning Ji said, catching up to Chen Ping An. He hadn’t brought an umbrella, and his senior, Zhao Shuxia, usually arrived at the Yuanyuan Village schoolhouse first to prepare breakfast.

He hadn’t expected rain, but thankfully, he’d only run a few steps before meeting his master, who seemed to have foreseen the downpour. A true scholar, almost divine!

The boy’s gaze was sharp, his eyes bright. This was the best kind of aptitude for cultivating the Dao. Perhaps even the Qi Observation Masters of the various kingdoms of Hao Ran wouldn’t see what the boy could.

But in Chen Ping An’s eyes, this rain, destined to fall for days, each drop was a golden character, laden with Daoist energy. Where there is dispersal of the Dao, there is also attainment of the Dao.

However, the “precautions” taken by the world, especially by the top sects, using arrays and methods to “collect the rain,” their effectiveness remained unproven. Perhaps only after the rain stopped, or decades, even centuries later, through various fortuitous encounters, could one find gradual validation.

The only exception might be those great cultivators who had already touched the bottleneck of “heavenly heights.” This small group of mountain-top figures could gain a relatively direct observation of the Dao. Many far-sighted cultivators hoped to break through their Ascension Realm bottleneck through this dispersion of the Dao.

Chen Ping An slowed his pace, tilting the umbrella towards his student as they walked towards the schoolhouse. He smiled and said, ” ‘Different,’ that’s a very good way to put it.”

The founders of the Three Teachings dispersed the Dao, bidding farewell to the world and jointly heading to the New Heavenly Court to confront Zhou Mi, who was attempting to recreate the Heavenly Dao and manipulate the world. This was a matter “above the heavens.”

Therefore, this rain “fell” differently, unprecedented in ten thousand years. Ordinarily, a mortal teacher would feel nothing, but Ning Ji’s keen awareness of the rain’s unusual nature was proof of his “qualifications” and recognition.

Ning Ji felt a little embarrassed. He had merely made a casual remark, never expecting to receive praise from his master. His master wasn’t one to compliment easily.

Chen Ping An said, “Ning Ji, would you like to learn immortal arts?”

Ning Ji answered without hesitation, “Yes, of course I want to learn.”

His grandfather, with whom he had fled to the capital of Yu Xuan, had now returned to his hometown. Even if times had changed and things were different, a homeland was still a homeland.

Ning Ji wanted to become accomplished so he could travel and visit his grandfather soon. His master had said that Headmaster Lu had taught his grandfather a strengthening and guiding technique, enough to make him a long-lived elder. Chen Ping An was being modest. According to Lu Chen, as long as he had the desire to continue his line, he could blossom in his old age and have children.

Chen Ping An and Lu Chen were alike in “finishing things properly,” not wanting to leave loose ends.

Chen Ping An smiled and asked, “If you master immortal arts one day, what is the thing you would most want to do?”

Ning Ji honestly replied, “I haven’t thought about it. Master, do I need to give a satisfactory answer before learning the legendary immortal arts?”

He had heard, either from rumors or books, that those who rode the clouds and mastered the Dao had to make great vows at the beginning of their training, exert great effort, and undergo many difficulties and trials before they could achieve enlightenment.

Chen Ping An shook his head and smiled. “It’s just a casual question. When I was about your age, if someone asked me that, I probably wouldn’t have been able to answer either.”

What was cultivating oneself, ordering one’s family, governing one’s state, and bringing peace to all under heaven? What were the Three Imperishables? What was eating cold pig’s head meat? What was carrying mountains across lakes and seas, reversing the tide? He’d never heard of any of it! How could the boy from Mud Bottle Lane have answered that?

Learning martial arts, practicing swordsmanship, building a Bridge of Longevity, it was just about survival.

Ning Ji raised his head, his smile bright. “Master, tell me more about the learning on the mountain. I’ve loved hearing those things since I was little. Even if I don’t learn immortal arts, I still find it interesting.”

Chen Ping An thought for a moment and slowly said, “If we’re only talking about the narrow sense of refining Qi, you don’t need to think of cultivating immortal arts as something too lofty or mysterious. Simply think of it as a craft, no different from a potter making ceramics, a farmer tilling the land, or a teacher teaching. The only difference is that the threshold for cultivating the Dao is indeed higher than the hundred crafts of the market. Whoever has the better aptitude will learn faster. That’s what’s meant by the Ancestral Master rewarding you with food. For example, ancient books believed that those who attained immortality received their mandate from the Daoist energy. It’s bestowed by nature, a gathering of Dharma, land, resources, and companions. However, this way of thinking can’t escape the trap of determinism, which I doubt. But if we’re talking about the broad sense of cultivating the Dao and seeking truth, the threshold is high. We have to admit that, apart from personal character, we must consider whether the heavens are rewarding you with food.”

As he said this, Chen Ping An took out several talismans from his sleeve, belonging to the rare and esoteric “single-character talisman” category. Each had the same character, “仙” (immortal), written in seal script, clerical script, and regular script.

He handed the three talismans to Ning Ji and smiled. “Keep these safe for now. I will soon teach you a method of sword Qi eighteen stops of breathing. In the future, during your studies and Qi refining, you can carefully observe this character ‘仙’ in your spare time. Record any insights you have. This isn’t homework for me or anyone else, it’s for you to write for yourself, to record your reading experiences at different ages and stages. Don’t underestimate this one character, thinking it’s not reading. In ancient times, many great learning, many still existing, the ancestors of these great schools and learnings often began from one or two characters or a sentence.”

Ning Ji thanked his master and carefully put the three talismans in his chest, smoothing them out. He seemed relieved.

Chen Ping An smiled. “Few dare to say they have finished reading all the books, but we can strive for the state of having understood the books.”

Ning Ji patted his chest. He seemed to have taken a great reassurance pill and grinned. “I remember every word you say, Master. I think about them carefully several times before going to sleep every night.”
The gentleman was a very accommodating person, with few requirements regarding food, lodging, or transportation. However, the one thing he was particular about was reading – extremely so.

For example, with certain books the gentleman frequently perused, anyone could tell at a glance how many times he’d read them just by opening the cover. The first reading would have annotations in tiny, meticulous ink characters. The second reading had “vermilion comments,” with more casual strokes of red ink beside the text, perhaps in semi-cursive or even cursive script. The third reading involved using a bluish-green inkstone, grinding the ink, and adding correction notes in that color…

The underlying principle was simple: “Reading without writing is like not reading at all.”

This most basic “secret method” for reading didn’t require Chen Pingan to painstakingly explain the reasoning to his student Ning Ji.

Ning Ji naturally followed his teacher’s example, copying him outright. Last time at Fallen Phoenix Mountain, his junior brother Cui Dongshan gifted him a gourd-shaped inkstone as a present for a fellow disciple, inscribed with two characters on the back: “Copy Exactly.”

His senior sister Pei Qian, claiming she wasn’t good at reading and scholarship, gave Ning Ji a bag of celestial coins, saying that in the future, when he saw a book he liked, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about the price.

Senior brother Cao, on the other hand, gave Ning Ji a dozen books, explaining in detail which ones to read first, which ones to read next, why to read them, and how to read them.

It seemed to be an old tradition within the Literary Saint’s lineage: when fellow disciples met, they never discussed their cultivation levels, but instead focused on the pursuit of knowledge.

Chen Pingan chuckled, “Will you still be nervous next time you go to Fallen Phoenix Mountain?”

Ning Ji replied, “I’ll still be nervous, but not as much.”

Chen Pingan nodded, “Your teacher can teach you a trick I figured out myself. In dealing with the world, don’t be discourteous in matters of importance; in treating people, don’t be offensive in your words.”

Ning Ji’s eyes lit up, “Easy to remember, easy to learn!”

Chen Pingan smiled, “Easy to remember, perhaps, but not necessarily easy to learn.”

Life is a constant journey of toil and hardship, which, to Chen Pingan, is like a series of… stealthy punches. Knowing his shortcomings, emulating the virtuous, accepting gains when he sees them.

When the day comes that there are “no punches left to steal,” he will probably have truly entered the realm of “I am already a grandmaster.”

Ning Ji said, “I’m only learning the superficial aspects; it’s a world of difference from what the teacher means by ‘learning well’.”

Chen Pingan once again reached his hand out beyond the umbrella, letting the golden characters of raindrops fall into his palm. He found that he still couldn’t hold them; the Daoist essence within the characters would dissipate on its own. If he maintained this posture for too long, it would even burn his hand a little. Chen Pingan had just tried to incorporate these bean-sized raindrops into the river of time within his own personal microcosm, but discovered that he couldn’t retain the golden characters there either. If he forced the issue, he could gather the writing into a pond, but the golden Daoist energy would still vanish, leaving behind only a stagnant pool of dead water.

It wasn’t that Chen Pingan was arrogant, but if he couldn’t retain the Daoist essence with his natal sword and magical arts, it meant that many Ascended Realm cultivators were in the same predicament. This was to be expected, or rather, it was consistent with the way the three patriarchs of the three religions would scatter their Dao. Mountain-top cultivators attempting to solve the problem with brute force were indulging in wishful thinking; the correct answer probably lay in Daoist heart and Daoist strength – whether one truly recognized the root principles of the three religions’ teachings, only then would they have the opportunity to receive this gift of the Great Dao.

Ning Ji followed his example, reaching out his hand to catch the rain. The raindrops hammered against his palm, causing the young man pain. It was a heavy rain, and the boy grimaced, wanting to withdraw his hand.

Chen Pingan’s expression shifted slightly. He straightened the umbrella, which was tilted towards the boy, patted him on the shoulder, and smiled, “Ning Ji, I reckon this rain will last for a while. Go back to your residence and get an umbrella. I’ll wait for you here. Don’t rush, and remember to change your clothes.”

Ning Ji already had this in mind. There was still some distance to the village school; he couldn’t let the teacher’s shoulders get soaked just to take care of him.

Without another word, the boy retraced his steps, dashing through the rain with light, agile movements. With each breath, a puff of white mist rose from the top of his head.

Chen Pingan stood in place and soon saw the young man’s figure running back, having changed his clothes. Ning Ji was holding an umbrella and had another oil-paper umbrella tucked under his arm for Senior Brother Zhao.

What great fortune it was to meet these students and disciples at that time and in that place.

Ning Ji trotted up to Chen Pingan, mustered his courage, and asked, “Can I ask the teacher a question?”

Chen Pingan smiled, “Of course you can ask. Just ask.”

Ning Ji asked curiously, “What kind of person does the teacher want to become?”

Chen Pingan reached out and touched the boy’s head, giving an answer that wasn’t an answer, “If you ask the teacher where he’s going, the student will know when he arrives.”

Ning Ji was filled with admiration. “I’ve remembered another golden saying that can serve as a motto. As expected, the teacher’s knowledge is vast.”

Chen Pingan lightly tapped the boy’s head and said with amusement, “In the future, talk more about scholarship with Cao Qinglang, and less about idle chatter with Cui Dongshan.”

Ning Ji said softly, “Junior brother’s scholarship is quite vast as well. He explained a lot of principles to encourage me to study humbly, and they were all particularly good.”

Chen Pingan casually asked, “For example?”

Ning Ji said, “For example, junior brother asked me, ‘Is it acceptable for a person to be clear-sighted, yet not see a cartload of firewood?’ I, of course, didn’t understand and dared not spout nonsense. So junior brother answered his own question and helped me understand. He first said, ‘I bestow upon you a method to resolve doubts,’ and then told me to cherish the precious opportunity to be with the teacher day and night, to watch, listen, and learn more. Learning three or four successes from the books will be enough to benefit me for life.”

Chen Pingan said helplessly, “You actually believed that?”

Ning Ji asked in confusion, “Yes, I believed it. Why wouldn’t I believe it? How dare I not believe it? Just the last time I saw the teacher advising the River God to drink more wine at the table, the more I pondered it afterward, the more I found it insightful.”

Chen Pingan said with a chuckle, “That’s truly a good example to give.”

Ning Ji really wanted to chat with his teacher for a few more moments, so he asked, “Besides the grand vision, what scholarship is the teacher researching recently?”

Chen Pingan said, “I’m thinking about a game of chess, and how few moves one needs to make on the board to determine victory or defeat. And I’m also contemplating whether all of humanity shares the same source, but flows in different directions.”

Ning Ji let out a “wow,” amazed beyond words. This was something he couldn’t learn.
Walking along the path by the stream, passing the ancient tree, its leaves a dense emerald, the sound of wind and rain echoing in its branches. The same stream flowed ceaselessly, unrestrained by the mountains, usually a gentle murmur, a sigh for the sorrows of men, but a roaring torrent in times of storm. Master and student walked slowly together, sharing an umbrella. As they approached the school, Ning Ji suddenly said softly, “Master.”

Chen Pingan teased, “What is it? A surge of inspiration? Are you about to compose a poem?”

The young man had originally intended to ask why his master was willing to stop in this rural village to teach, but interrupted by the master’s jest, he no longer wished to ask.

Chen Pingan said solemnly, “Our lineage of the Literary Sage must produce a狀元 (Zhuangyuan, top scholar in the imperial examination).”

Ning Ji immediately shook his head like a rattle-drum. “I wouldn’t dare to think of such a thing.”

Chen Pingan chuckled, “You can think about it, you can think about it.”

With about a quarter of an hour before class began, Chen Pingan folded his umbrella and stood under the eaves, the wind and rain vast, the sky and earth dim. He gazed at the stone sundial at the edge of the threshing ground in the distance.

It was almost time to meet that true inner demon.

Whether he could return to the Jade Purity Realm and once again touch the bottleneck depended on what this ghostly, well-hidden inner demon intended.

Those inner demons that had been cut and torn apart, because they were rooted in a part of Chen Pingan’s humanity, were not pure. It was like a battle between two armies. The inner demon, as the commander of one side, always hid in the shadows, constantly driving hundreds of thousands, millions of soldiers to attack and seize territory, deliberately feigning weakness and testing the waters. In the final analysis, it was engaged in a tug-of-war with Chen Pingan’s pure divinity, standing atop a mountain of white bones, two extremes in opposition: the complexity of the human heart and the purity of divinity.

In fact, Chen Pingan had once had a fanciful “invitation,” a plan to, before the three founders of the Three Teachings scattered their Daos, construct a ghostly, illusory, bone-laden Bridge of Longevity within his own small world. He would use visualization to pave a so-called path to heaven, so that the extraterrestrial demon from the Azure Billow Heaven, existing outside the confines of Dao and Dharma, a being that could be considered a fifteenth realm entity, would notice this battle of the Vast Brightness World and actively enter this “ancient battlefield” where Chen Pingan simultaneously held the advantages of timing, location, and support. Then, the three founders of the Three Teachings could make a clean sweep of it. This was the so-called “backstop” that Chen Pingan had mentioned to the old scholar at Azure Mist Peak. Of course, it was an extremely risky undertaking, one that held the possibility of a single step ascent for Chen Pingan.

The old man in the backyard of the Yang family’s apothecary had once left a letter, asking Chen Pingan a question with profound meaning: “Are you full?”

If you must eat, then eat the biggest! By using external force, strive to directly eliminate a fifteenth-realm demon! Eat as much as you can, and leave what you can’t eat for later.

Zhou Mi, who successfully ascended to heaven, occupied the ruins of an ancient heavenly court. This was a gift from the Heavenly Dao. Zhou Mi began to pursue the sixteenth realm with this as a foundation.

According to the old man’s consistent style, Chen Pingan, as the other “half” of the “one” that Zhou Mi shared, must have another similar “gift” waiting for him in the human world, like spring sowing and autumn harvest, waiting for Chen Pingan to reap. The key was whether Chen Pingan dared to think about it and whether he could accomplish it.

Even if inviting a god is easy but sending it away is difficult, and even the three founders of the Three Teachings could not eradicate the hidden danger of the heavenly demon, don’t forget that Chen Pingan still had a wisp of his mind practicing swordsmanship outside the heavens, looking down from above.

With a sword-wielding companion.

This was another of Chen Pingan’s backstops.

This was the seventh layer of Chen Pingan’s thinking and strategy for this retreat.

But now it seemed that Chen Pingan’s calculation had completely failed. That heavenly demon had not taken the bait. Perhaps it thought the bait was too small, perhaps it was afraid to act rashly with the Dao Ancestor present, or perhaps it had long been weighing the pros and cons, seeing through Chen Pingan’s thoughts as an infant in the Nascent Soul stage. You, a mere Fourteenth realm cultivator, dare to compete with it, to stand on equal footing?

In short, the layers of planning, the exhaustion of intellect, were like childish games in its eyes, like a novice child shaking his head and explaining the three thousand words of the Dao Ancestor’s great meaning.

Chen Pingan smiled self-deprecatingly. In any case, he had at least tried his best.

Having walked a long road and met many people, Chen Pingan had forgotten when or who had said it: “Regret comes from what you did wrong, and remorse comes from what you didn’t do.”

Chen Pingan’s gaze shifted upwards, the heavy rain like a curtain.

The sky is above.

The sky is empty.

Some Perfected Ascension Realm cultivators have even more opportunities.

The four seasons are beautiful and clear, human relationships harmonious and beautiful, winter ice melts in spring, and wild grass grows naturally.

Wild grass grows deep.

Ning Ji stood by the stove and called softly, “Master, breakfast is ready.”

Chen Pingan withdrew his thoughts and went to the kitchen. For breakfast, pickled vegetables with porridge, plus two tea eggs, all three of them of humble origin, ate with relish.

Chen Pingan suddenly said, “Tree, Ning Ji, I hope you can become this kind of person.”

Zhao Shuxia stopped his chopsticks, and Ning Ji looked up and asked, “What kind of person?”

Chen Pingan smiled, “For example, Liu Jinglong of the Supreme Harmony Sword Sect, Wen Yu, the head of the Celestial Eye Academy, those kinds of scholars, worthy of the title ‘醇儒’ (Chunru, pure Confucian). ‘Looked upon with reverence, approached with warmth.'”

On the Falling Phoenix Mountain, because the rain was too heavy, Immortal Officer Daoist didn’t go to the mountain gate to keep watch. He chatted with Zheng Dafeng and Chen Lingjun, moving long benches to sit under the eaves and enjoy the rain.

It was just idle chatter, slipping wherever they went. Zheng Dafeng casually mentioned the saying “神完氣足” (shen wan qi zu, spirit complete and qi sufficient), saying that wild beasts would not harm children, which was the same principle as how Buddhist dragons and elephants could easily repel and tame wild beasts. A mountain’s ancestral hall or Taoist temple has Dao Qi, and a person also has their own human flavor and spirit. Daoist Immortal Officer, hearing this, was thoughtful. The little boy in green, with his shallow mind, only felt that Brother Dafeng had something to him.
The little incense figurine from the City God Temple, known for his unwavering dedication, impervious to wind and rain, and unmoved by thunder, couldn’t find Immortal Wei Daoist at the mountain gate. He then rode his new black snake mount and slithered towards the residence. Seeing the three ne’er-do-wells, the Vermilion-robed Boy was filled with grief. However, since Daoist Jingqing was a confidant of Mountain Lord Chen, and he was merely a semi-outsider of Fallen Phoenix Mountain, he couldn’t say much. Familiar with the path, he went to Immortal Wei Daoist’s study, completed the attendance check and signature himself, and then instructed the green snake to wait at the mountain gate while he crossed the mountains to find Protector Zhou.

Not long ago, Mountain Lord Chen had indeed made a trip to the Chuzhou City God Temple as promised. Gao Ping, that blockhead, seemed to have finally understood, discarding all pretenses and even sharing a drink with Mountain Lord Chen, discussing the intricacies of military strategy. It was filled with scholarly jargon, nothing more than arranging troops and strategizing, which the Vermilion-robed Boy didn’t quite understand. He was both happy and worried. Why hadn’t Gao Ping acted like this in the official circles earlier? If Gao Ping had shown this demeanor in the mountain and water bureaucracy, he might have already become the Capital City God of Dali!

In Dali’s capital city, the old Nascent Soul cultivator Liu Jia, who guarded the alley outside the Rumor Mongering Tower, submitted his resignation to the Ministry of Justice, relinquishing his role as gatekeeper. The old man said he wanted to see other continents.

Not a fool, the old man knew that since Chen Pingan had come to this alley, all the out-of-towners who had appeared here afterward, regardless of whether he knew them or not, the people he had stopped outside the alley were all the so-called “never met a grandmaster” grandmasters. Then the National Preceptor Cui Chan’s joke from back then could be considered fulfilled. Liu Jia planned to first go to the Northern Ju Reed Continent, but before taking the intercontinental ferry to leave Treasure Bottle Continent, the old man first took a trip to Chuzhou, disembarking at Ox Horn Ferry and walking to the mountain gate of Fallen Phoenix Mountain. In the pouring rain, the old man held an umbrella and glanced at the mountain gate archway before leaving. Although he didn’t enter, he was still satisfied.

Yu Lu and Xie Xie traveled north, eventually arriving in the former territory of the old Lu Dynasty, the former capital city, now located in Dali’s Zhao Prefecture.

Dali’s Ministry of Public Works was adept at handling the disposition of the capital city of a fallen dynasty, especially the imperial palace, with a wealth of experience.

The bustling city, now a prefecture city, remained prosperous. The streets and alleys once adjacent to powerful aristocratic families had largely become the homes of commoners.

The young emperor and female national preceptor, who had already restored their kingdom on the Tung Leaf Continent, did not stay here long. They left this once-named Lu metropolis, occasionally riding the wind together, but mostly walking on land, through rural villages, with the sounds of roosters and dogs, wisps of smoke rising from chimneys, and affectionate children.

During their journey, they passed through a place with sparse bamboo and several peach blossoms leaning towards the river. A flock of ducks swam across the shimmering water covered with peach blossoms. Yu Lu began choosing a fishing spot and casting his line, a most unromantic sight.

Eventually, they arrived at a mountain peak, formerly the location of the Lu Dynasty’s number one immortal mansion ancestral mountain, now occupied by a Dali local sect. It was an immortal mansion second only to the Evergreen Palace, and the Dali Song family never treated their former dragon-supporting ministers poorly. Because they occupied this Daoist site, and with the strong support of the Dali court, the mountain sect, once a third-rate bottom-dweller on Treasure Bottle Continent, had grown step by step into a second-rate power in just under fifty years. Yu Lu had been relatively calm throughout the journey, but Xie Xie was a woman with deep national sentiments and a sentimental nature. The more indifferent Yu Lu appeared, the more she couldn’t help but scold him a few times. This was Xie Xie’s first return to her hometown after becoming a Lu criminal exile and being relocated to the old Dragon Province, seeing the old mountain peaks again. Compared to the great battle that swept across several continents, looking back at this hometown, the mountains and rivers in their eyes now seemed like small successes and failures.

The new Daoist in the mountain lowered his head to look, the old master of this mountain looked up at this moment. There were still many white clouds on the ridge.

Xie Xie cried bitterly, but it wasn’t the kind of heart-wrenching wail. She just squatted by the roadside, holding her face in her hands, refusing to get up.

Yu Lu didn’t comfort her, just silently waited for her to finish crying, and then took her to find a place to drink. They had traveled together several times, and had long had a tacit understanding.

In the rain, at a roadside tavern, the old wine seller was dozing off, not very attentive to the guests. The young shop assistant was more enthusiastic, but unfortunately, he encountered two paupers, guessing they were a young couple eloping, otherwise, judging by their clothes, they didn’t look like the kind of men and women who couldn’t afford good wine.

A tall, slender middle-aged man, wearing a clean and neat black robe, took off his bamboo hat, and the man with the purple jade hairpin in his hair stood under the eaves, gently waving his hat to shake off the raindrops. He picked a table near the wine table and sat down, ordered half a pound of local scattered wine, and asked the waiter to stir-fry two side dishes. The man took a sip of wine, turned to look at Yu Lu, and smiled: “Considered a good match.”

Those who don’t like to drink, drink names and prices.

If Chen Pingan hadn’t reminded him beforehand, Yu Lu wouldn’t have guessed the other party’s identity, and smiled: “Did White Sword Immortal come here specifically to find me?”

Xie Xie was very nervous.

After all, the other party might be an Ascended Realm sword cultivator. If it weren’t for the Fire Dragon Real Man of Crawling Earth Peak, Sword Cultivator Bai Chang would be the well-deserved number one on the mountains of Northern Ju Reed Continent.

Bai Chang smiled and said: “The Lu family disciples are known for being worse than the previous generation, until a prince Lu Ji emerged.”

“It’s a pity that this true dragon was bent in the hidden residence, and failed to achieve the climate and died young. In the end, he still lived as a joke. If I remember correctly, when a group of teenagers traveled far away to study, Chen Pingan was fourteen years old and had just learned boxing, Yu Lu was already a sixth-level martial artist, and he became a Golden Body Realm in the Sutra Tower of the Sui Dynasty Cliff Academy. What a thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river, now looking at it, Yu Lu is a Distant Travel Realm, but Chen Pingan has seen the martial arts scenery of the Returning to Origin First Layer of the Ending Realm. It’s really annoying to compare people.”

“What do you say, Lu Ji?”

Yu Lu smiled and said: “Lu Ji became Yu Lu, didn’t Lu Yue also become Bai Chang? No, if I guessed correctly, there seems to be a Lu Clan founding emperor Lu Qing in the middle.”

Bai Chang picked up the wine bowl and smiled: “White clothes deliver wine, do you accept it?”

Yu Lu smiled and said: “Giving charcoal in the snow, why not.”

Bai Chang asked: “Aren’t you worried that Chen Pingan will have grudges in his heart, and the incense love that was hard to accumulate will be diluted, causing the two sides to go further and further away, and the gains will not be worth the losses?”

Yu Lu said: “Clear accounts between brothers, White Sword Immortal doesn’t need to worry about this.”
A woman in white robes withdrew an exquisite brocade box, saying, “I only took in one direct disciple, named Xu Xuan. He can go to Tongye Continent to serve as your royal family’s chief venerated guest. As for the pill inside the box, it’s extraordinarily precious and can be considered my introductory gift. You can take it yourself, but then you wouldn’t be able to continue being emperor. Of course, you could also give it away, though cultivators in the Nascent Soul and Ascension realms shouldn’t take this pill, lest they waste its potential. This pill was found at the ruins of a thatched-roofed hut with an alchemy furnace in Mount Jing. The Immortal Lord’s surname was Ge, his Daoist name Huainan, his whereabouts erratic and unpredictable, devoid of desire, and he enjoyed wandering the Five Capitals while traversing the realms of the living and the dead. I estimate he’s only half a step away from transcending the Five Elements. He’s considered one of my senior brothers, highly regarded by our master, though I’ve never met him. Swords undergo a hundred refinements, and pills a hundred distillations. All I know is that Senior Brother Ge, whom the master esteemed greatly, was most skilled at concocting elixirs that could revive the dead and restore vigor, and phoenix blueprints that could return souls to their bodies. Senior Brother Ge never took disciples in his life, nor did he ever establish doctrines or write books, so the methods of construction and refinement are beyond our comprehension. Later generations only know a rough outline of it, and I only learned from an eccentric that this pill is called ‘Fourth Formula,’ also known as ‘Hundred-Day Immortal.'”

Yu Lu took the brocade box without hesitation and asked, “How did you become enemies with Chen Ping’an?”

The woman in white looked towards the gloomy rain outside the door, and laughed with a carefree air, “Whether intentional or unintentional, he ultimately ruined a rather significant scheme of mine. Otherwise, I should at least be at the peak of the Ascension realm today, able to seek the path of the Fourteenth Realm sooner.”

Yu Lu said, “In that case, the feud is no small matter.”

The woman in white smiled slightly, “Actually, it’s not that bad, since we’re from the same hometown. We’re just displaying our abilities on a narrow path; the outcome, win or lose, won’t be too frustrating.”

Yu Lu asked, “But there will definitely be a sword duel?”

The woman in white raised her wine bowl and drained it in one gulp, saying with a hint of helplessness, “It can only be a fair and square sword duel within the same realm.”

There was no choice. Chen Ping’an’s luck was simply too good, and he now had too many identities.

Cui Dongshan and Jiang Shangzhen had a clear division of labor. On those two isolated pieces of lotus root blessed land, they each kept watch over one place, respectively following the array’s boundaries to see if there were any loopholes, to see if they could find a few fish that had slipped through the net. As a result, Chief Zhou had good luck. He really did find an extremely hidden “side door” pathway in a great formation – skillful methods, great artistry and bold courage. It was just unclear whether this deeply hidden big fish was inside or outside now. Jiang Shangzhen had his Yang Spirit doppelganger stand guard in place, waiting for the rabbit to come, while his Yin Spirit escaped and traveled far away, continuing to quickly patrol everywhere. Anyway, the territory wasn’t large, so he used the dumbest method, running around like a headless fly. As for his true body, it hung in the air, overlooking the land. When it came to using knowledge, one regretted not having enough. The path of deduction and calculation had always been what Jiang Shangzhen was worst at and most unwilling to put his mind to researching.

Chen Ping’an, as the talisman doppelganger of the Wayfarer, quietly left the Dieye Mountain Beggar Flower Field ancestral temple. He first found the old man who called himself the Potter and asked him to help examine the “past lives” of Yuan Huang and Wu Jiang. As a result, there were no problems. Both young martial artists were native to the lotus root blessed land.

Chen Ping’an was to this blessed land somewhat like Lu Chen, who sat in the White Jade Capital, was to the Azure Underworld: monitoring all sentient beings and enlightened individuals in the world. As long as he had enough patience, finding someone was an easy task – of course, provided that the other party didn’t have the kind of heaven-obscuring, world-penetrating methods. After confirming that Yuan Huang and Wu Jiang were both of innocent origin, Chen Ping’an went to find the female cultivator who had summoned a Binding Immortal Rope at the Great Wood Temple. As expected, this female founding master, who had already established a sect, was on her way back to her immortal abode when she sat down and molted like a cicada in the carriage. At first, the disciples mistakenly thought that the sect master Immortal Venerable was truly in seclusion. When the carriage reached the mountain gate, she still showed no signs of leaving seclusion, so the sect disciples had no choice but to guard the carriage. Chen Ping’an repeatedly used Spatial Shrinkage, arriving at this sect, which had only one Qi Refiner besides her. He lifted the carriage curtain and saw that the self-disintegrated woman’s face was lifelike. What a golden cicada sloughing off its shell! Of the Thirty-Six Stratagems, running away was the best.

Chen Ping’an had no choice but to bring out that pure, divine self, temporarily leaving the Heart Image Jingguan. The golden-eyed, white-robed Chen Ping’an squatted in the carriage and reached out to pat the woman’s fair face, scolding with a smile, “Shameless enough, an old man pretending to be a woman, where did you get that idea? Shaking out a Talisman Doppelganger, you’re just a small fry compared to me… If Chen Ping’an’s true self, busy with giving the children ‘zhi hu zhe ye’ at the academy, were here, he would have given you a kick for sure. Rare occasion that the white-robed Chen Ping’an came out, so while he kept chattering, he still had to do the important things. He stretched out a finger to touch the “corpse-seated” woman’s cicada slough’s brow, then gently tugged, and a winding, wriggling, light golden thread was pulled out. The golden thread fluttered, as if it might dissipate in the wind at any moment, and the golden luster faded extremely quickly, turning into a mercury color at a speed visible to the naked eye. Chen Ping’an waved his hand, saying with a smile, “Go!”

The thread flashed and disappeared in a hurry.

The white-robed Chen Ping’an swept out of the carriage, riding the wind extremely fast, his large sleeves billowing, his figure ethereal, following the golden thread straight to the area Jiang Shangzhen was responsible for patrolling.

The only remaining Qi Refiner in the sect, though his realm was not high, his ability to assess the situation was not lacking at all. Not only did he not pursue the uninvited guest’s presumptuous actions and offensive crimes, but instead prostrated himself on the ground, repeatedly shouting loudly, “Immortal Lord is above!” What he thought in his heart was only to avoid ending up being uprooted and exterminated. The sect disciples beside him, completely at a loss, knelt down en masse.

The thread, gradually becoming almost transparent, passed through the side door of the formation. Jiang Shangzhen was stunned. His eyes blurred, and he saw Chen Mountain Lord brushing past him, saying with a smile, “Chief Zhou, this is the time to establish merit and achieve success. A willow leaf follows me to slay a Land Immortal…”

The thread disappeared outside the door of a brothel, but it wasn’t considered a complete failure.

The white-robed Chen Ping’an landed gracefully, flicked his sleeves, and strode into the brothel, thick with the scent of rouge and powder, saying with the purest Barbarian wilderness elegant words, “So you were hiding here. Elegant, truly elegant. Daoist friend, you really know how to choose a place.”

Chen Ping’an walked to the center of the hall, looking around. Above and below were all Yingying and Yanyan, and there were also old madams and pimps busying about. Flesh trade was also a livelihood, physical work, not shameful.

Chen Ping’an still didn’t use Mind Voice, and said with a slight smile, “I’ve already come to call in person, Daoist friend, stop hiding, anyway, begging for mercy is useless. Since you’re a death warrior, then die generously.”
The heavily rouged procuress, still retaining a certain charm, paused, savoring the moment. Could it be a rival establishment hiring someone to cause trouble? Such a novel tactic! Despicable! She immediately screeched, “Where did you come from, you scoundrel? Causing a ruckus here? Don’t you know Magistrate Zhao, the patrolling censor, is a regular here?”

Back then, half a million refugees from Tongye Continent were scattered across seven or eight large cities and towns. As for the majority of Qi Refinement cultivators, they were driven like ducks by the Jiang Clan cultivators of Cloud Cave to another territory. If this place valued martial prowess, where the strongest fist held sway, then that place was where immortal masters roamed freely, though still relying on methods and reason. This was because both sides were aware that times had changed, they were far from home and relying on others, so they wouldn’t go too far.

Chen Ping’an chuckled, “It’s you. To be honest, your acting is terrible. You’ve been too busy writing and selling books these past few years, haven’t you? Don’t frequent theater troupes, do you?”

The middle-aged madam was momentarily speechless, staring intently at the unfamiliar young Hidden Official. She sighed softly, “Hidden Official, your reputation precedes you.”

Chen Ping’an asked, puzzled, “Is this your true appearance?”

She asked curiously, “I’ve been careful enough. May I ask how you found me?”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “Just passing by. Haven’t tried whoring before, just came in to take a look.”

She seemed resigned to her fate, without even attempting to escape, trembling, “One last thing, Hidden Official, how can I live?”

Chen Ping’an raised a palm, gently shaking it. Flesh dissolved, revealing bare bones instantly. The shed flesh condensed into a mass in the air, “Take it.”

She was dumbfounded. Had this young Hidden Official gone mad? All her careful planning over the years was to obtain his hair or flesh. Failing that, even seeing him in person would suffice, though the effect would be greatly diminished, the transference of karma not strong enough to significantly damage Chen Ping’an’s Dao foundation. If all else failed, she would “frame” that Fox Kingdom cultivator who had gone out for training.

Chen Ping’an smiled, “You’re a brow liner and a seamstress, perhaps even a connoisseur of unofficial histories, plus a rare barbarian Sacrificial Official? Many skills are not a burden, and can even be forged into one. Logically, you shouldn’t have trouble thriving in the barbarian lands. Why stay here and contend with me?”

She extended two fingers, peeling off three layers of skin like garments, first transforming into Magistrate Zhao, the patrolling censor, then a refined middle-aged scholar, and finally her true appearance, still a woman, but younger, with a pale face and scarlet lips. A glaring scar marred her neck, strands of sword energy slowly seeping out, twisting her otherwise pretty face. She asked, “Hidden Official, do you remember me?”

Chen Ping’an in white shook his head, “I truly don’t remember.”

If he didn’t remember, then he truly didn’t.

Seeing she wasn’t taking the bait, he retrieved the mass of false flesh that looked like muddy goo, returning it to his hand.

Jiang Shangzhen, having gathered his Yang and Yin spirits, sat by the second-floor railing. It had been a while since he had visited a brothel.

She suddenly flew into a rage, clutching her neck wound, appearing deranged, “Ning Yao! It’s all thanks to Ning Yao, that bitch’s spawn! It was her chaotic sword strikes on the battlefield that completely ruined my chances of reaching the Fifth Realm…”

Jiang Shangzhen felt his scalp tingle, and couldn’t help but glance at the Mountain Lord. Strangely, he wasn’t stopping this woman’s cursing? But it seemed he wouldn’t need to unleash his Natal Sword after all?

In that instant, this Nascent Soul Realm barbarian cultivator found herself in

a mysterious and profound, bizarre realm.

There was no eerie or sinister aura, no sign of lurking danger, but rather it was like a golden jade forest filled with spiritual Qi as thick as water.

When she used various escape techniques, she found that no matter how hard she tried to travel, the seemingly small mountain became larger, preventing her from leaving its bounds, as if there was an absolute connection between the mountain and her form. She used all her methods, unleashing a large pile of Natal Treasures and mystical abilities, but every time she shattered the mountain, it would return to its original form in the next moment. This nearly collapsed her Dao heart. She spent so much time just being stuck with the mountain, she didn’t even know if it had been days or months? In the end, she had to abandon the idea of brute force and began to climb the mountain. The mountain seemed to be spring all year round. On the mountain path there were winter plum blossoms, daffodils, peach blossoms, crabapples, and all kinds of flowers blooming in succession. There was a young banished immortal, diligently brewing wine while the flowers were in season.

At the mountain peak, the white-robed host, radiating Dao energy, sat at a table, extending a hand towards a bowl of wine on the table, and smiled, “Remember, this is called Sorghum Wine.”

She stood still.

He continued to smile, “This is called Sorghum Wine, remember? I’m sure you don’t remember. It’s okay, I can say it again.”

After that, he repeated “Sorghum Wine” over and over, and the female cultivator listened to the opening line repeatedly.

All she knew was that the white-robed man was introducing the name of the wine each time, but it was as if her soul had been separated. Her Dao heart, which was already teetering before she started climbing the mountain, couldn’t hold on any longer. She clearly remembered that the young Hidden Official had repeated “This is called Sorghum Wine” hundreds of times! She sensed that the other her had completely forgotten the word “Sorghum Wine”!

The white-robed Chen Ping’an finally changed his approach, “On the way here, you saw winter plum blossoms, daffodils, peach blossoms, crabapples, roses, peonies…”

Each time Chen Ping’an spoke the name of a flower, the her outside her spirit would completely forget the name of that flower, as if she had never heard of or seen that flower in her life.

“Flower.”

When Chen Ping’an slowly spoke the word.

It was as if flowers no longer existed in her life.

“Nascent Soul Realm.” “Barbarian Lands.” “Qi Refinement Cultivator.”

When Chen Ping’an spoke these three words, she forgot them.

Was this swordsmanship? Was this magical power?!

This Chen Ping’an was simply… a monster, neither human, immortal, god, nor ghost!

He didn’t need to kill his opponent, didn’t need to scatter their soul and disperse their spirit. On the contrary, he deliberately preserved their wholeness, only tampering with the minds of cultivators?!
The sliver of consciousness, already in despair, knew all too well that if Chen Ping’an so desired, he could first obliterate it, filling the lake of her mind. Following that, the entirety of “herself” would, in a sense, become a blank canvas upon which Chen Ping’an could inscribe any words he chose, and she would become that new “her.”

“Who taught you this?”

“The devilry is always one step ahead of the Dao. Having contended with inner demons for so long, I had no choice but to learn this art myself for self-preservation.”

“Why leave behind this fragment of my spirit?”

“Practice. I need you to verify things with yourself.”

Thereafter, Chen Ping’an reversed the order, returning to her, one by one, the words and concepts of “Qi Cultivator,” “Savage Desolation,” until he reached the phrase, “This is called Sorghum Wine.”

She had already resigned herself to fate, utterly devoid of any will to resist.

Only then did she realize that cultivation of the Dao could be so… sacrilegious, that the Dao could be cultivated in such a manner, that such a Dao could even exist.

But for some unknown reason, the other party remained silent for a long time. When her spirit was complete and her form restored, she looked up and saw a white-robed Hidden Official with a face streaked with tears.

Her mind was initially a blank, but then inspiration struck, and she blurted out, “Are you Chen Ping’an’s inner demon?!”

The white-robed figure wiped away his tears, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile that was both crying and laughing. “Who’s to say I’m not?”

Only then did she notice that the ground beneath her was a mountain of bones, all corpses.

A man in a green robe with a jade hairpin in his hair materialized out of thin air, his golden eyes smiling. “Finally found you. The Brewer’s inner demon, the Drinker’s deity, isn’t the order reversed?”

The heavy rain paused temporarily, and the sky cleared, but judging by the looks of it, the rain would return. At the village school, a teacher was squatting by the stream, washing a pair of pants stained with excrement. Practice made perfect; it wasn’t the first or second time this had happened. Beside him stood a bare-bottomed student. The child absolutely refused to go home and put on pants. The teacher pleaded with him for a good while before he finally ran home, only to return swaggering back to the stream and find the teacher gone. He immediately became nervous, but thankfully, the teacher hadn’t hung his pants on the bamboo pole in the threshing ground to dry. Inside the schoolhouse, the sound of voices reciting their lessons could be heard. The teacher stood at the doorway, and the child breathed a sigh of relief, running to the teacher’s side to complain in a low voice, saying that Ah Mei seemed to want to drop out too because her parents thought the teacher’s lessons were substandard, that following the teacher’s instruction wouldn’t lead to anything in the future. “A smooth tongue and a beardless chin,” they said, “can’t be trusted.” Someone so old who was still a bachelor, what skills could he possibly have? No wonder his eyes were always wandering when he walked down the street, always staring at the young women. So, if you wanted to learn real things, you had to go to the old scholar’s school in Wuxi Village. You couldn’t be greedy for the lower price here and ruin your child’s future. That old scholar said it best: “You get what you pay for.” This was a “refined scoundrel” who would mislead the young. The young teacher listened to the child’s rambling, his brow furrowing in worry. He only had a few students to begin with, and three had already dropped out in the past few days. Any more dropouts, and things would look bad. The child first said something very sincere and then asked a painful question: “Teacher, don’t worry, I’m definitely on your side. Teacher, tell me the truth, how many years of schooling have you had? How many books have you read?” Chen Ping’an rubbed the child’s head and said with a smile, “Teacher has never been to school a single day, but I’ve read many books…” The child sighed and patted the teacher’s wrist. “Teacher, don’t say any more. If you keep talking, I might want to drop out too. I used to want to become a Scholar. Teacher, can you give the money back? I don’t have to drop out, just give me the money, and we’ll split it and buy candied haws. We’ll talk about becoming a Scholar later.” Chen Ping’an lightly tapped the child on the head with his knuckles and said with a smile, “Go read your books.”