Hark, a deer calls, feasting on the wild apple. My heart, a restless sea, mirrors the verdant collar of my student.

Is not the purest love between man and woman, as untainted as the dawn, akin to the seeker’s solitary path amidst the mountains?

“Master,” a boy’s voice pierced the air, sharp and perceptive, “this rain… it falls with a different song.”

Ningji hastened to catch up with Chen Ping’an. He had left without an umbrella, trusting that his elder brother, Zhao Shuxia, would be waiting at the village school, preparing their morning meal. But the heavens had opened, and only a few steps from his door, he encountered his teacher, a sage who seemed to possess foresight, predicting this very downpour. Truly, a man whose wisdom reached the heavens!

The youth’s gaze was keen, his eyes burning with an inner fire. This, indeed, was the mark of a soul destined for great cultivation. Perhaps even the celestial observers of all the realms beneath the Heavens could not fathom the visions within those eyes.

For in Chen Ping’an’s sight, this rain, destined to fall for days without end, was a celestial script, each raindrop a golden ideogram brimming with Daoist energy. With the scattering of Dao, came the potential for its attainment.

Yet the world, particularly the great sects renowned for their foresight, were ill-prepared. Their arrays and methods to ‘catch’ the rain were untested, their efficacy unknown. Proof, if it ever came, would only arrive after the deluge ceased, perhaps decades or even centuries hence, gleaned from the gradual accumulation of myriad opportunities and revelations.

Only those rare mountain peaks, the grand cultivators brushing against the highest heavens, could perceive the Dao directly, in its fleeting, untamed glory. It was whispered that many such figures, their ambitions vast, secretly hoped this scattering of Dao would shatter the barriers hindering their ascent to the realm of Immortals.

Chen Ping’an slowed his pace, tilting his umbrella to shield his student. ” ‘Different’,” he mused, a smile gracing his lips, “a most apt observation. Very well put, indeed.”

The three Grandmasters of the Three Teachings, having scattered their essence, bid farewell to the mortal realm, embarking on a journey to the new Heavenly Court, to confront Zhou Mi, who sought to recreate the Heavenly Dao and master the world. A battle ‘above’, unlike any seen in millennia.

Ordinarily, such an event would pass unnoticed by mortal scholars. Yet Ningji’s keen perception, his ability to discern the extraordinary in the ordinary, was a testament to his innate ‘qualification’ for the path of cultivation.

Ningji blushed, realizing his words were but a casual musing, yet they had earned the praise of his teacher, a man not given to idle flattery.

“Ningji,” Chen Ping’an asked, his eyes twinkling, “would you desire to learn the arts of Immortals?”

Without hesitation, Ningji replied, “I would! Most certainly I would!”

Years they had spent together, clinging to each other for survival amidst the chaos, finally finding refuge in the capital of Yuxuan. His grandfather, now returned to their ancestral home, wished to end his days in peace. Ningji longed to attain mastery, to journey independently and visit the old man. He had heard from his teacher that Headmaster Lu had imparted to his grandfather exercises to fortify his health, promising him a long and healthy life. In truth, Chen Ping’an had understated the matter. According to Lu Chen, the old man, if he so desired, could see his withered tree bloom anew.

In matters of ‘resolution’, Chen Ping’an, like Lu Chen, was careful to never abandon a duty or leave a task incomplete.

Chen Ping’an chuckled, “If, one day, you master the arts of Immortals, what is the one thing you would wish to do?”

Ningji, ever honest, confessed, “I have never considered such a thing. Teacher, must I provide a satisfactory answer before I can learn the legendary Immortal arts?”

He had heard tales of those who soared among the clouds, whether through hearsay or from the pages of books. He knew they often had to set grand ambitions at the start of their journey and show unwavering resolve along the way, enduring many trials before gaining enlightenment.

Chen Ping’an shook his head, smiling. “It is but a passing question. Had someone asked me such a thing when I was your age, I, too, would have been at a loss.”

What talk was there of self-cultivation, family harmony, national governance, or eternal legacy for a street urchin?

Learning to fight, mastering the sword, seeking survival… that was all.

Ningji lifted his head, a radiant smile illuminating his face. “Tell me more of the teachings of the mountains. I have always loved to listen, even if I never learn the Immortal arts themselves!”

Chen Ping’an pondered for a moment, then spoke slowly, “If we speak only of the narrow path of qi cultivation, do not view the arts of Immortals as something lofty and profound. Consider it merely a craft, like a potter shaping clay, a farmer tilling the fields, or a teacher imparting knowledge. The threshold for cultivation is simply higher than that of other trades. Those with natural talent learn swiftly, and those who are gifted by the heavens are truly blessed. The ancient texts claim that those who attain Immortality are blessed by the Dao itself, a gathering of Law, Land, Wealth, and Companions. But such a notion smacks of predestination, a concept I question. However, if we speak of the broader path of Dao, the pursuit of truth, then the threshold is indeed high. We must concede that, beyond personal character, the favor of the Heavens also plays a role.”

He reached into his sleeve and withdrew several talismans, rare specimens inscribed with a single character, ‘Immortal’, written in seal script, clerical script, and standard script.

He presented the three talismans to Ningji with a gentle smile. “Keep these safe. I will soon teach you a method of breathing that manipulates sword-qi with eighteen stances. In your spare time, contemplate this character, ‘Immortal’. Record any insights that come to you. This is not homework for me or anyone else, but a record of your own journey, of your changing understanding at different stages of your life. Do not underestimate this single character, thinking it separate from your studies. In ancient times, great scholars and Daoists founded vast bodies of knowledge, lasting to this day, all stemming from a single character or phrase.”

Ningji thanked his teacher, carefully placing the talismans in his robe, patting his chest as if to reassure himself.

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Few dare claim they have finished reading all the books in the world, but to understand them fully, that is something you and I can strive for.”

Ningji patted his chest, feeling a surge of confidence. He grinned. “Every word you speak, Teacher, I remember them all! Before I sleep each night, I review them in my mind.”

His teacher was a man of simple tastes, unconcerned with food, lodging, or clothing. Yet in matters of study, he was meticulous, demanding.

For example, the books his teacher frequently consulted bore the marks of countless readings. The first annotations were in the tiniest of characters, written in black ink; the second were in vermillion ink, scribbled more freely in the margins, perhaps in running script or even cursive. The third reading would be marked with notes in green ink…

The principle was simple: “To read without writing is to waste your time.”

Such a basic and profound principle, Chen Ping’an need not preach to Ningji.

Ningji naturally emulated his teacher. During his stay at Luo Po Mountain, his younger brother, Cui Dongshan, had presented him with an inkstone in the shape of a gourd, a gift for a fellow disciple and scholar, inscribed with the words, ‘Emulate’.

His elder sister, Pei Qian, claiming no talent for scholarship, had given him a bag of immortal coins, so he would never have to worry about the price of books he desired.

And his brother Cao had given him a dozen books, detailing which to read first, which to read next, and how.

Perhaps it was an old tradition of the Sage of Literature’s lineage, that disciples never discussed their cultivation levels, but instead focused on the pursuit of knowledge.

Chen Ping’an smiled. “When we return to Luo Po Mountain next time, will you still be nervous?”

Ningji replied, “I will still be nervous, but not as much as before.”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “I can teach you a little trick I devised myself. In dealing with the world, do not offend in matters of principle. In treating others, let no hurtful words escape your lips.”

Ningji’s eyes brightened. “Easy to remember! Easy to learn!”

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “Easy to remember, perhaps, but not so easy to learn.”

Life in this world was toil and labor, but for Chen Ping’an, it was a series of… subtle thefts. Knowing his own shortcomings, learning from those more skilled, he gleaned wisdom wherever he could.

When the day came that he had “nothing left to steal,” then perhaps he would truly reach the realm of “I am the master.”

Ningji said, “I am only learning the basics, which are worlds apart from what you are talking about.”

Chen Ping’an reached out again into the rain, those golden characters pattering against his palm. He found he could not hold them; their Daoist energy would simply dissipate. He had even tried to incorporate those rain drops into his own “little Heaven”. The results were no better. Though the text could fill ponds, the Daoist energy would disappear, leaving nothing but dead water.

It was not out of conceit that Chen Ping’an knew he was unable to hold the Daoist energy. It simply meant many ascending cultivators had not figured it out either. This was proper because the Daoist energy should properly be distributed in line with the Three Teachings, which rejected the use of brute force. Only the recognition of the Three Teachings would give a cultivator the chance to receive their Daoist blessing.

Ningji, too, reached out to catch the rain. The raindrops stung his palm, causing the youth to grimace and pull his hand back.

Chen Ping’an’s expression shifted slightly. He righted the umbrella, ensuring it sheltered the boy, and patted his shoulder. “Ningji, I suspect this rain will fall for a long while. Run back to your home and fetch an umbrella. I will wait for you here. Do not rush. Remember to change your clothes.”

Ningji had been thinking the same thing. The village school was still some distance away. He could not allow his teacher’s shoulder to be soaked.

Without a word, the boy turned and darted back the way he had come, his footsteps light, his form agile. With each breath, a cloud of white vapor rose above his head.

Chen Ping’an stood and watched as the youth returned, holding an umbrella, with another paper umbrella tucked under his arm for Zhao Shuxia.

What great fortune it was, to encounter such students, such disciples, at this time, in this place.

Ningji jogged to Chen Ping’an, asking, “May I ask you a question?”

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “Of course. Ask away.”

Ningji asked curiously, “What kind of person does Teacher aspire to be?”

Chen Ping’an reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair, offering an answer that was not an answer. “If you ask Teacher where he is going, when the student has arrived, they will know.”

Ningji was deeply impressed. “Another golden proverb to serve as my motto! Truly, Teacher’s learning is vast!”

Chen Ping’an lightly swatted the boy’s head, scolding playfully. “In the future, discuss scholarship more with Cao Qinglang, and less with Cui Dongshan!”

Ningji murmured, “Younger brother Cui has great knowledge as well. The encouragement he gives me to seek knowledge is always well-spoken.”

Chen Ping’an asked casually, “For example?”

Ningji replied, “For example, my younger brother asked me, ‘Can a man be insightful without noticing a wagonload of firewood?’ Of course, I only had a vague understanding, and did not dare to answer rashly. So younger brother answered the question himself. He first said, ‘I offer you this method to resolve your doubts,’ and then told me to cherish the precious opportunity to be with Teacher day and night, to watch, to listen, to learn. Even if I only grasp three or four tenths of what he teaches, it would benefit me for the rest of my life.”

Chen Ping’an sighed. “And you believed him?”

Ningji asked in confusion, “I do believe him. Why wouldn’t I believe him? How would I dare not believe him? Seeing how Teacher persuaded the River God to drink wine, after the fact, I realized it was profound.”

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “That is indeed a good example.”

Ningji then asked, “Besides the long term goals, what are you studying recently?”

Chen Ping’an answered, “I am considering a game of Go: What is the minimum number of moves a player has to make to determine victory or defeat? And I am thinking about all of humanity: Are all their experiences different or the same?”

Ningji gaped in awe, realizing such heights were beyond his reach.

As they walked along the streamside path, past the ancient trees, the wind and rain rustled in the branches. The water flowed ever onward, like a constant lament.

As they neared the school, Ningji suddenly said softly, “Teacher.”

Chen Ping’an teased, “Has inspiration struck? Are you about to compose a poem?”

The boy had been about to ask why his teacher had chosen to stop and teach in this humble village, but the interruption had broken his train of thought.

Chen Ping’an said seriously, “From our lineage of the Sage of Literature, a number one scholar must emerge!”

Ningji shook his head vigorously. “I dare not even dream of it!”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “You can dream of it.”

With a quarter of an hour to spare before classes, Chen Ping’an folded his umbrella and stood under the eaves, gazing at the stone sundial at the edge of the threshing ground.

It was time to meet that true inner demon.

Whether he could return to the Jade Purity Realm and face the barrier once more depended on the meaning of the inner demon.

That cut-off inner demon that carried a piece of Chen Ping’an’s humanity was not pure. Like a battle between two sides, the inner demon was like the general, hiding in the dark and telling a million soldiers to conquer. All this was to test the Chen Ping’an who stood on a mountain of white bones. The pure god of Chen Ping’an pulled on the other side of the rope, but did not know what was going to happen.

Chen Ping’an wanted to test the waters, by building a mountain of white bones in his little world. It was to create a false path to heaven. He wanted to draw in those demons from outside. He wanted the Three Teachings to take them out once and for all.

The old man from the Yang Family’s shop had written to Chen Ping’an once to ask if he had eaten his fill.

If he had to eat, then he was going to eat the biggest piece. Chen Ping’an was willing to use external power to take care of the demon!

Chen Ping’an wanted to test the waters, but the demon had not taken the bait. It was probably because it thought the bait was too small or the Dao Ancestor was there. It was probably overanalyzing. He was nothing more than an ant that was in the Yuanying Realm!

In the end, Chen Ping’an could only laugh.

He had met many people in his life, but he had forgotten who had said that regret came from not doing anything, and guilt from what was done.

Chen Ping’an looked up into the sky.

When the Heaven was above, it was empty.

There were more chances for cultivators of the Ascension Realm.

Four seasons of beauty, harmonious human relationships, melting ice, and wild grass springing up.

Ningji called from the kitchen, “Teacher, breakfast is ready.”

Chen Ping’an shook his head, leaving his thoughts behind as he walked to the kitchen. Their simple breakfast of salted vegetables, porridge, and two tea eggs tasted delicious.

Chen Ping’an said suddenly, “Shuxia, Ningji, I wish for you both to become a certain kind of person.”

Zhao Shuxia paused his chopsticks, and Ningji looked up. “What kind?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Such as Liu Jinglong of the Taiwei Sword Sect, or Wen Yu of the Tianmu Academy, scholars who are worthy of the word ‘gentleman’. To be looked upon with respect, and approached with warmth.”

At Luo Po Mountain, the Heavenly Warden Daoist, finding the rain too heavy to stand guard at the mountain gate, chatted with Zheng Dafeng and Chen Lingjun, sitting on long stools under the eaves, enjoying the rain.

They were idly gossiping. Zheng Dafeng spoke of the phrase “divine spirit complete,” saying wild beasts would not harm children, just as a dragon could easily drive away and tame beasts. A mountain’s temple had its Daoist energy, and a person had their own aura and spirit. The Daoist Heavenly Warden listened, deep in thought. The Qingyi little boy, with his simple mind, thought Dafeng was quite insightful.

The incense man of the City God Temple, as famous as ever, was there in wind or rain. Finding the Daoist, the incense man got angry because Jingqing was close to the owner of the mountain. He went straight to the old haunt, which was the desk of the Heavenly Warden. After signing his name, he went straight to Guardian Zhou. A while ago, he did not expect Chen Ping’an to visit his temple in Chuzhou. Gao Ping got the hint, and poured wine for Chen Ping’an, who lectured him on war. He should have done that from the beginning, so now he was nothing.

In the Dali Capital, the old Nascent Soul, Liu Jia, had handed in his resignation, leaving his post as the gatekeeper of the old alley outside the Anyone Can Say Inn. He said he wanted to go see other continents.

Not an idiot, the old man knew ever since Chen Ping’an had come to this alley, the outsiders who had appeared afterward, whether he knew them or not, the figures he had blocked outside the alley were all people he considered extraordinary. Liu Jia decided to visit the Northern Ju Reed Continent first. Before leaving the continent on a cross-continental ferry, the old man made a trip to Chuzhou, disembarking at Oxhorn Ferry, and walked to the gate of Luo Po Mountain. The rain was torrential, but the old man held up his umbrella, glanced at the mountain gate, and left.

Yu Lu and Xie Xie had walked north, eventually arriving in the old territory of the Lu Dynasty, now Dali’s Zhao Prefecture.

Regarding how to deal with the capital of a conquered dynasty, especially the imperial palace, the Dali Ministry of Works was skilled.

What was once the dynastic capital, was now a prefecture, still prosperous and noisy. The lanes and alleys that had housed aristocratic families were now occupied by commoners.

The young Emperor, who had already restored his kingdom in Tongye Continent, and the female state preceptor did not stay long. They left the great city that had once belonged to the Lu family, occasionally riding the wind for a short distance, but more often walking on the land, passing through villages with crowing chickens and barking dogs, with the sounds of children at play.

Along the way, they passed a place where sparse bamboo and peach blossoms bent towards the river, and a flock of ducks swam across the shimmering water filled with fallen blossoms. Yu Lu began to choose a fishing spot and cast his line, ruining the scenery.

Finally, they arrived at a mountain, which had once been the first immortal abode of the Lu Dynasty, now occupied by a local Dali sect, second only to the Longchun Palace. The Dali Song family had never been stingy with their former dragon-supporting subjects. Because of occupying this Daoist place, and with the great support of the Dali court, the bottom of the barrel mountain sect had grown into a second-rate force in less than fifty years. Yu Lu had been fine along the way, but Xie Xie was a woman with great national feelings and melancholy. The more indifferent Yu Lu was, the more she scolded him. It was the first time since being deported to the old dragon state that Xie Xie had returned home and revisited the old mountain.

The new Daoist of the mountain looked down today. The old masters of this mountain looked up. The white clouds were still on the ridge.

Xie Xie cried bitterly. Instead of wailing, she squatted by the roadside, holding her face in her hands, refusing to get up.

Yu Lu did not comfort her, but silently waited for her to finish crying, then took her to find a place to drink. Having traveled together several times, they had developed a tacit understanding.

In the rain, in a roadside tavern, the old man serving wine was dozing off, not too attentive to his guests. The young shop assistant was more enthusiastic, but they had encountered two paupers.

A slender middle-aged man, wearing a neat black robe, took off his bamboo hat, stood under the eaves, gently shook off the raindrops, chose a table near the wine table, ordered half a catty of local wine, and asked the shop assistant to stir-fry two dishes. He took a sip of wine, turned to Yu Lu, and smiled, “A good match.”

Those who did not like drinking, when drinking and drinking, drank the name and price of the wine.

If not for Chen Ping’an’s advance warning, Yu Lu would not have guessed the identity of the other party. He smiled, “The White Sword Immortal came specifically to find me?”

Xie Xie was very nervous.

The other party was likely a cultivator of the Ascension Realm. If not for the fire dragon daoist of Parajita Peak, the sword cultivator Bai Shang was the first person on the mountain in the Northern Ju Reed Continent.

Bai Shang smiled, “The Lu family’s children are famous for being worse than the last, until Lu Ji came out.”

“Unfortunately, this true dragon was confined to the underwater dragon and died before he could achieve his goals. In the end, he became a joke. If I remember correctly, when a group of young men traveled far to study, Chen Ping’an was fourteen years old and just learning boxing, Yu Lu was already a martial artist of the Sixth Realm. What a thirty years on one side of the river and thirty years on the other. Now, Yu Lu is a voyager, but Chen Ping’an has seen the wind and light of the martial arts of the realm of the Return to True.

“What do you say, Lu Ji?”

Yu Lu laughed, “Lu Ji turned into Yu Lu, didn’t Lu Yue turn into Bai Shang? No, if I guessed correctly, there seems to be a Lu Dynasty founding emperor, Lu Qing, in the middle.”

Bai Shang picked up the wine bowl and smiled, “I am here bearing gifts of wine, will you accept?”

Yu Lu smiled, “It is like charcoal in the snow, why not?”

Bai Shang took out a brocade box and said, “I only accepted one direct disciple, named Xu Xuan. He can go to the Tongye Continent and serve as your royal chief priest. As for the elixir in the box, it is unusually precious and is a gift when we meet. You can take it yourself, but you can’t be the emperor anymore. Of course, you can also give it to someone else. A cultivator in the Nascent Soul and Ascension Realm should not take this elixir, as it is easy to waste it. This elixir was obtained from the ruins of a thatched cottage in Jing Mountain. The Immortal Lord’s surname is Ge, his Daoist title is Huainan, his whereabouts are erratic, he has no desires, and he likes to travel to the five capitals and return between the Yin and Ming realms. He is probably only half a step away from being out of the five elements. He is one of my senior brothers, but I have never met him. I only know that this Senior Brother Ge, who is deeply valued by my teacher, is best at refining the elixir of immortality and the treasure recipe of the phoenix, which can return the soul. Senior Brother Ge never accepted apprentices in his life, nor did he ever write books, so we cannot know how to build and refine them. I still learned from a strange man that the name of this elixir is ‘The Fourth Side’, also known as ‘One Hundred Day Immortal’.”

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

Bai Shang looked at the dark rain curtain outside the door and smiled casually, “Whether intentional or unintentional, he ruined a small plan of mine. Otherwise, I should at least be at the peak of the Ascension Realm today, and be able to seek the realm of the Fourteenth Realm.”

Yu Lu said, “So the enmity is not small.”

Bai Shang smiled, “Actually, it’s okay, after all, we are from the same hometown. On the narrow path, each of us shows our magical powers. The win or loss will not be too suffocating.”

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

Bai Shang picked up the wine bowl, drank it all in one gulp, and said in a slightly helpless tone, “It can only be an upright sword duel in the same realm.”

There was no way around it; Chen Ping’an was too lucky, and had too many identities now.

Cui Dongshan and Jiang Shangzhen had a clear division of labor, each guarding one of the two secluded Lotus Root Paradise areas, watching the edges of the formation to see if there were any loopholes or fish that had escaped the net. Zhou had good luck and found an extremely hidden “side door” path in a large formation. It was unknown whether the hidden fish was inside or outside. Jiang Shangzhen had his Yang spirit stay put, and his Yin spirit traveled around quickly. His true body hung in the air overlooking the earth. He was bad at pushing and calculating.

Chen Ping’an, as an observer, left the Biefeng Mountain Temple. He found an old man who called himself a potter and asked him to examine the “previous lives” of Yuan Huang and Wu Jiang. The results were all fine, and the two young martial artists were both natives of the Lotus Root Paradise.

Chen Ping’an had left the Lotus Root Paradise. He wanted to find someone. As long as the time was enough, it was easy to find someone, but they could not have methods to cover the secrets of heaven. After determining that Yuan Huang and Wu Jiang were both innocent, Chen Ping’an went to find the female cultivator who sacrificed a binding immortal rope at the Great Wood Temple. As expected, this female patriarch, who had already founded a sect, had sat down in a carriage like a cicada molting on her way back to the immortal mansion. Her disciples initially mistook her for being in closed-door training. When the carriage arrived at the mountain gate, she still showed no signs of coming out of seclusion, and the sect disciples had to guard the carriage. Chen Ping’an repeatedly reduced the mountains and rivers, and came to this sect, where only one Qi refiner was left, in addition to her. He lifted the curtain of the carriage and saw that the woman’s face was as lifelike as if she had broken down on her own. Chen Ping’an had the pure divinity of himself and squatted in the carriage, reaching out and patting the woman’s fair face, scolding with a smile. Then, Chen Ping’an had one of his other bodies. If Chen Ping’an was busy giving children knowledge in the village school, Chen Ping’an would had kicked it. The body did what was important, and one finger was used on the fake body. A wiggling gold wire was used on the hair of the dead. The wire had begun to change into mercury. Chen Ping’an waved his hand.

The silk flashed and disappeared.

The man followed and flew out of the carriage.

The only remaining Qi refiner in the sect was not high in realm, but his ability to judge the situation was second to none. Not only did he not pursue the guest for his usurpation and offense, but he lay on the ground and repeatedly shouted, “The Immortal Lord is above.” The confused sect disciples knelt on the ground in droves.

The thread passed through the formation’s side door. Jiang Shangzhen was stunned. He saw Chen Mountain Lord pass by him and said with a smile, “Chief Zhou, it’s time to make meritorious service. A willow leaf will slay the Earth Immortal with me.”

The thread dissipated outside a brothel.

Chen Ping’an landed. He walked into the brothel and said, “So it’s hidden here. Refined. The Daoist is really good at picking places.”

Chen Ping’an walked to the center of the lobby, looked around, and saw many women and people. Flesh business was also a livelihood, physical work, and was not to be ashamed of.

Chen Ping’an still did not use voice, and smiled, “I have come to see you. Daoist, don’t hide. It’s useless to beg for mercy. Since you are a death warrior, then die generously.”

The old woman was stunned. She was the one who had hired people to come and cause trouble. She suddenly shouted, “You bastard, how dare you cause trouble here? Don’t you know that the Zhao master is our old customer here?”

Five hundred thousand refugees scattered across the Tongye Continent in seven or eight great cities and towns. If this place was martial artists that revered power, then the other place was Daoist, and it was because both sides knew they were on the same side that they did not go too far.

Chen Ping’an smiled, “It’s you. To be honest, you are not a great actor. You did nothing but write books and sell books.”

The middle-aged woman stared at the young man, and sighed, “The Lord’s reputation is real.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “This is your true face?”

She asked, “I have been careful enough. How did you find me?”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “I passed by and wanted to buy wine.”

She gave up, and said, “How can I live?”

Chen Ping’an raised a palm. Flesh was dissolved and there was bone. The blood was made into a ball.

She was stunned, as she wanted his hair or blood.

Chen Ping’an said with a smile, “You are an artist and a sewer, and probably a writer and a worshiper.

She stretched out two fingers to take off three layers of human skin, first becoming the Zhao master, then an elegant scholar, and finally her true face, which was still a woman, but younger, with a pale face and red lips. There was a scar on her neck, and sword energy slowly flowed out, distorting her face. She asked, “Lord, do you remember me?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head.

He did not remember.

Seeing that she was not hooked, he took back that of flesh.

Jiang Shangzhen was on the second floor. It had been a long time since he had been to a brothel.

She was furious. She shouted, “Ning Yao is to blame. Because of that *****, I lost my chance to enter the Fifth Realm.”

Jiang Shangzhen felt his scalp tingle and looked at Chen Mountain Lord.

In that instant, she found herself in an unknown place.

There was no sense of dread, and it was full of light.

When she used all sorts of methods, she could not escape. Her heart had almost broken.

On the top of the mountain, a man with golden eyes was on a mountain. He pointed to the water and said, “This is Sorghum Wine.”

She stood there.

He said again, “This is Sorghum Wine. Do you remember?”

After that, he said “Sorghum Wine” over and over again, and she listened to it again and again.

She wanted to give up, but she could not. The man repeated “This is Sorghum Wine” over and over again. She had forgotten the word “Sorghum Wine”!

Chen Ping’an changed his words, “When you came, you saw winter plum, daffodils, peach blossoms, crabapples, tea roses, peonies…”

Every time Chen Ping’an said a flower name, she forgot it.

“Flower.”

In her life, there was no such thing.

“Nascent Soul Realm.” “The Savage Desolation.” “Qi refiner.”

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

The monster was changing her soul!

There was no need to kill the opponent’s spirit. Instead, he did something to the soul!

She had been given everything to Chen Ping’an.

“Who taught you?”

“If the Dao is high, the demon is higher. I have long had to learn this art to protect myself.”

“Why did you leave me with this bit of intelligence?”

“Practice. I need you to verify it with each other.”

After that, Chen Ping’an returned the words to her.

She did not move.

She realized cultivation could be like this.

She did not know why, but then Chen Ping’an was in tears.

She said, “You are Chen Ping’an’s inner demon?!”

The man laughed, “You are right.”

It was only at this moment that she found that she was standing on a mountain of white bones, all of which were corpses.

A man with a jade hairpin appeared and smiled, “I have finally found you. Is the order correct?”

The rain had stopped. The sun came up. It was going to rain later. At the village school, a teacher was washing pants, and a child was there naked. The teacher laughed, because the event was not the first time.

The boy asked “When will they be dry?”

The boy ran home.

Chen Ping’an touched the child’s head and asked, “Have you read?”