The wind sang a ferocious song as the Aurora Skiff cleaved through the heavens, unrolling the tapestry of mountains and rivers below like a scroll of breathtaking grandeur.

Hardly had the ferry slipped beyond the bounds of the Northern Peak’s domain when Liu Xianyang’s booming voice shattered the tranquility, calling out for Chen Ping’an.

Lost in slumber upon a desk within the skiff, Chen Ping’an stirred. Rising, he first attempted to reach the Night Wanderer God-King with a silent plea, but received no answer. With a sigh, he emerged from the cabin and strode to the prow of the ship, where he addressed Wei Bo by his mortal name.

Wei Bo materialized upon the deck almost instantly. The moment he heard the whispered invocation of his divine title, a great weight lifted from his heart. He knew more of Chen Ping’an’s long-simmering vengeance, and particularly the “Enshrinement” he planned for Ma Kuxuan, than even the denizens of Fallen Mountain, save perhaps Old Chef and Zheng Dafeng. He worried, the weight of his concern heavy upon him.

Chen Ping’an had already shed his boots and sat cross-legged at the prow, idly shaking a crimson gourd. He drank not, but listened to the liquid slosh within.

Wei Bo, released from his anxiety, leaned against the railing and inquired with a touch of curiosity, “Did the Flying Sword missives from the Grand Li Ministry of Punishments not reach the Sword Abode of Azure Peak?”

Chen Ping’an replied, “They did. I perused them, but found myself too occupied with matters of import to reply.”

Wei Bo nearly bristled with indignation. Because of this nonchalance, the entire Ministry of Punishments walked on eggshells, attempting to divine the intentions of the Grand Li National Preceptor. Even the Emperor was forced to send missives via the Ministry of Rites to Mount Piyi, dragging Wei Bo himself into the Ministry’s affairs. What madness was this? Was the Emperor merely a fool worried about the court’s trivial matters?

Chen Ping’an offered a placating smile, clasping his hands in a brief bow. “We’re all family here. No need for formalities.”

Wei Bo’s brow furrowed slightly. “How shall they be settled?” he asked, referring to the newcomers.

Chen Ping’an clearly had considered this matter at length. “For the time being,” he declared, “these sixteen souls will be placed upon Jumping Fish Mountain. Martial artists and cultivators alike, all sharing the same mountain. If, in a year or two, another wave of sword cultivators arrives, they shall be dealt with similarly, not sent to the Sword-Worship Platform. Jumping Fish Mountain, while not the grandest, can easily accommodate thirty souls. If my memory serves, the mountainside holds a wealth of existing structures, more than a hundred houses of varying size, enough to suit their needs. Furthermore, it is near to Fallen Mountain, and I may yet develop Embracing Deer Foothills as a personal sanctuary.”

Finding a master to teach martial arts was the simplest task. Zheng Dafeng had long taught such arts while hiding at the Cold-Warding Palace of the Five-Hues World.

Choosing one to guide them in the mystic arts, however, posed more of a challenge.

Chen Ping’an, of course, was capable, yet unsuitable for the task.

This was not the Sword Qi Great Wall. In the Vast Expanse, beginning too high on the path of cultivation, be it the way of the Dao or the path of fists, was not necessarily beneficial to sixteen tenderfoots.

As for the white-haired child who currently served as Fallen Mountain’s Registrar, she was without exaggeration an erudite scholar, more than capable of teaching. However, her unique nature made her unsuitable.

Wei Bo produced a booklet from his sleeve, containing detailed files on each of the sixteen individuals.

Chen Ping’an merely shook his head. “I need not see it.”

Normally, Wei Bo would have offered some wry comment about Chen Ping’an’s growing aversion to responsibility. But seeing the weariness etched upon Chen Ping’an’s face, he swallowed his words.

Chen Ping’an continued, “Besides Zheng Dafeng, who will be responsible for martial training, Cén Yuānjī can assist as a deputy. In truth, teaching the way of fists is, in itself, a form of learning.”

Wei Bo paused, then nodded with a smile. “A fine idea.”

“Lu Yong and Zheng Qingjia are already upon the mountain,” Wei Bo added.

Chen Ping’an frowned. “What brings the True Man Lu there?”

Wei Bo chuckled. “Assisting Zhao Zhuo in securing a guest seat upon the Fallen Mountain, one with a seat in the Ancestral Hall of Azure Peak.”

Chen Ping’an sighed. “Did the True Man Lu truly need to cross continents and visit Fallen Mountain in person for such a matter? Surely, she came bearing gifts in celebration of your advancement?”

Wei Bo simply smiled.

Chen Ping’an mused softly, “She bears a family name now.”

Gu Lingyan, Zheng Qingjia.

For a demon-kin cultivator of the Wildlands, the addition of a surname was no trifling matter.

Her Daoist name was Mandarin Duck Lake, and she held the alias of “Five-Petaled Scribe.”

In the Wildlands, she was a rare soul, unburdened by the need for constant conflict, and perhaps less adept at bloodshed than most cultivators above the Fifth Tier.

Wei Bo smiled knowingly. “She claims to have come to recognize the Small Mo family line. And to seek the return of Gu Can to his lineage.”

Chen Ping’an asked a peculiar question. “Did she come alone?”

Wei Bo was perplexed, but chose not to inquire further. “She was alone.”

Of course, any Jade Pure cultivator would be adept at manipulating space.

The number of souls or items one could carry depended entirely on the cultivator’s skill.

Chen Ping’an said nothing further on the matter.

For a secret, be it significant or trivial, was involved.

Years ago, when Chen Ping’an defended the city walls alone, a gilded carriage had appeared, filled with a bevy of Wildlands female cultivators, all eager for a glimpse of the young Hidden Official.

Among those within the carriage, besides the descendants of high-ranking demon officials, was a member of the Golden Emerald City’s bloodline. She was said to be the City Lord Mandarin Duck Lake’s most prized disciple, inheritor of her truest teachings.

Wei Bo inquired, “Should I have a word with Tong Wenchang?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “My relationship with the God-King Tong is far stronger than yours.”

Wei Bo chuckled. “My apologies, I merely presumed to offer my aid.”

Before Chen Mountain Lord could reply, the Night Wanderer God-King vanished back to Mount Piyi.

Somewhat awkwardly, Chen Ping’an returned to the cabin. From his sleeve, he retrieved three spirit coins and gently placed them upon the table, aligning them in a row: Welcome Spring, Offer, and Charm.

An inch of time for an inch of gold, an inch of gold cannot buy back an inch of time.

Among common folk, this was a lesson in the value of diligence. On the mountains, it carried another, deeper significance. This “gold” referred to the spirit coins themselves.

True Man Yu did indeed act with the speed of lightning. After attending the formal enshrinement ceremony at Mount Piyi, he had returned to his Daoist temple amongst the stars. However, Yu Xuan had left word that, within a month at most, emissaries from Peach Talisman Mountain would arrive at Fallen Mountain, bearing a thousand spirit coins to gift Chen Ping’an. Five hundred would be a loan, interest-free, to be repaid at Chen Ping’an’s leisure.

Furthermore, Yu Xuan had generously waived the outstanding debt of three hundred coins Chen Ping’an had borrowed from the heavens long ago.

Thus, the gap between Chen Ping’an’s needs and the fifteen hundred coins Zheng Juzhong had mentioned as being necessary to elevate the Flying Sword’s grade was now quite small, a mere two hundred coins.

And this did not even include the bag of spirit coins that Liu Xu had offered.

However, those thirty-six coins, perfectly forming a set of the “Thirty-Six Celestial Stars of the Northern Dipper Constellation,” were exceptionally rare, worth a king’s ransom.

To merely refine them into the waters of the River of Time would be a terrible waste.

Instead, they could be forged into a grand formation, requiring no invocation of deities. Thirty-six divine generals, each guarding the banks of the River of Time.

He had also earned a sizable sum of spirit coins from Yu Shiwu, enough to close the gap. But since they had formed a temporary alliance, Chen Ping’an had felt too embarrassed to accept them. At first, Yu Shiwu had refused to take them back, claiming they were of little use. Chen Ping’an had even urged him to reconsider before Yu Shiwu reluctantly accepted. Now, he realized he had been remiss in his studies, failing to grasp the true essence of Fire Dragon True Man’s business maxim: “When trading, one must not be too thin-skinned.”

In truth, in the battle against Ma Kuxuan, the imitation of Zhou Mi’s body had been crafted from spirit coins. A thousand? Two thousand?

Where had Ma Kuxuan obtained so many spirit coins? From start to finish, Chen Ping’an had never asked.

After being slain by a single sword strike, Ma Kuxuan had even abandoned his very soul in a desperate gambit, clearly intending to leave the spirit coins within the Birdcage Heaven.

Be they Ma Kuxuan’s unretrievable relics, or the spoils of battle, Chen Ping’an had claimed nothing.

Instead, he had used these remaining spirit coins to carve a new path for Ma Kuxuan, protecting a fragment of his soul and ensuring his reincarnation, while severing all ties between Ma Kuxuan’s current life and the Divine Path of the Old Heavenly Court.

Chen Ping’an divided a fragment of his soul and entered the Birdcage Heaven, arriving at the foot of the arched bridge leading to the ruins of the immortal’s estate. His soul merged with that of the young Daoist priest.

Three figures arrived in tandem. Yu Shiwu spoke first, demanding, “What has happened?”

Besides Yu Shiwu, there was the Wildlands female cultivator Xiao Xing, and Ma Mansion’s cook, Yu Qing, formerly known as the Cherry Blossom-Clad Gongsun Lingling.

It was clear that they, like Yu Shiwu, were curious as to the cause of such earth-shattering turmoil.

During his battle with Ma Kuxuan, fearing complications, Chen Ping’an had “detained” Yu Shiwu and the others within this realm, depriving them of their freedom to traverse different Heavens.

Chen Ping’an did not offer a detailed explanation, but merely shared the broad strokes of the result with Yu Shiwu. Yu Shiwu was speechless, then murmured, “Good, acceptable, this is best…”

Xiao Xing had intended to offer some sarcastic remark about Chen Ping’an’s weakness of heart and how it hampered his efforts, but before she could speak, her body plummeted into the long river, nearly drowning.

Gongsun Lingling found this most satisfying. The mad, seductive woman had finally received her due… The next moment, the now free Xiao Xing materialized behind Gongsun Lingling, her face nuzzling Gongsun Lingling’s ear. She wrapped her arm around Gongsun Lingling’s waist and quickly drew her closer, reaching for the ample weight of her chest…

The young Daoist priest, wearing a lotus crown, frowned slightly, and Xiao Xing desisted. Her feet barely touching the ground, she retreated to the bridge railing, idly stroking the top of a pillar. She offered a seductive smile. “Roughly the same size.”

Chen Ping’an ignored her. “Many of the illusionary realms have suffered grievous damage. I entrust their repair to your diligent efforts.”

Xiao Xing’s gaze burned as she looked at the cook’s bulging skirt, where her hips flared in a startling display of curvaceous allure. She touched a finger to her crimson lips and said in a honeyed voice, “Hidden Official, may I make a request? Grant me this woman, and I shall serve you with unwavering loyalty. Before long, I shall tame her completely.”

Chen Ping’an narrowed his eyes in silence.

The heavens, already obscured, began to bleed with a crimson hue.

Xiao Xing understood the gravity of her situation and fell silent, no longer daring to presume.

Such was the communion of Heaven and Man. Chen Ping’an was, without question, the ruler of this place. And his moods manifested as celestial phenomena.

Chen Ping’an turned to Gongsun Lingling. “If she troubles you again, hindering your progress in constructing this realm, I shall teach her the true meaning of ‘regret’.”

Gongsun Lingling replied, “I am willing to work here, but I demand a wage unrelated to divine money.”

Chen Ping’an inquired with curiosity, “Tell me.”

Gongsun Lingling stated, “If you can guarantee that she will cease her harassment, I wish for Xiao Xing, while retaining her form and beauty, to sprout a cock between her legs.”

Xiao Xing giggled, unafraid. “I shall simply walk about naked, refraining from touching your flesh. Merely flaunting my ‘bird’.”

Chen Ping’an was speechless.

Yu Shiwu’s scalp tingled with dread.

Gongsun Lingling countered, “Then I shall change my request. Grant me such an appendage, and compel her to spend a portion of each day unable to resist my advances. I shall fuck her senseless.”

Chen Ping’an sighed. “You both should see a physician. Until then, focus on your tasks and avoid each other. I shall create a barrier between you, a vast gulf within arm’s reach.”

Yu Shiwu stared in disbelief, his heart pounding.

Xiao Xing giggled, covering her mouth. “Yu Qing, sooner or later, you will tire of loneliness. You will willingly seek my company.”

Remembering something, Chen Ping’an spoke to Gongsun Lingling. “I met Xiao Pu and Liu Taozhi within the Chongyang Temple of the capital. When the time is right, I can help you reclaim your identity as Cherry Blossom-Clad.”

Gongsun Lingling remained silent, clenching her fists. She merely nodded.

Chen Ping’an said, “Yu Shiwu, let us walk and talk.”

Yu Shiwu eagerly fled from the two she-devils and followed Chen Ping’an onto the Divine Path. The path remained lined with impaled corpses.

Compared to Xiao Xing and Gongsun Lingling, Yu Shiwu was the last to enter Chen Ping’an’s heart realm. The more familiar he became with this realm, the more impressed he became with Chen Ping’an’s techniques. He marveled at the spectacle, his eyes wide with wonder.

Especially after Chen Ping’an handed him the seal and key, Yu Shiwu understood why Xiao Xing had so quickly erected the buildings and realms. He had assumed she was skilled in such arts. But Chen Ping’an had laid the groundwork. All Xiao Xing and Yu Qing had to do was select the components and assemble them. In a strange realm that seemed to be the “source of all laws,” countless structures existed, arrayed in meticulous order. Yu Shiwu and the others could freely manipulate anything, shrinking it to the size of a mustard seed or expanding it to the size of a star, according to their whims.

Taking temples as an example, there were sixty-two models to choose from. And eighty-one monasteries. Each possessed its unique characteristics. The statues of the Twenty-Four Heavenly Guardians from the Iron Buddha Temple, the spirit officer statues of the Lingxiao Temple, the court murals of the Great Pure Yang Longevity Palace, the Linggu Temple’s guardian, the wooden statues of the Five Hundred Arhats in the Jingci Temple…

In addition to the temples and monasteries, there were two “templates,” stripped of all unique features, like the mint used to stamp copper coins. The disassembled components were numerous, including plaques, scrolls, murals, ceilings, lamps, pillars, and bricks. They were categorized, ranked, and arranged according to the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches.

This was not merely a simple act of assembling, stacking, and combining. It was a construct, in the broad Confucian sense. “Laws alone are insufficient to govern,” and “Inner sanctity leads to outer dominion.”

An entire building could be broken down into hundreds or thousands of tiny components. All that Yu Shiwu and the others had to do was select them and put them to use. They were adding to the world, but reducing the difficulty of the task.

This ingenuity filled Yu Shiwu with more than mere admiration and respect. It instilled a primordial fear within him.

Near the summit was a spring of water, the spiritual energy so dense it resembled liquid. Those detained here could drink from it, sit in meditation, rest, and replenish their qi.

According to Xiao Xing, the amount of spiritual energy was comparable to that held by a Flying Ascendant cultivator.

Reaching the summit, paved with blue brick, Chen Ping’an walked to the pool and stated, “Ma Kuxuan was a clever man, and a stubborn one.”

He had personally experienced Ma Kuxuan’s own natal Flying Sword beside the Great Du River.

Yet the “Zhou Mi” Ma Kuxuan had summoned through his contemplation was ignorant of this fact.

Many people were stubborn with themselves, with others, and with the world.

For example, Liu Xianyang refused to apologize.

Song Jixin was similar, often desiring to improve his relationship with his neighbors, yet unwilling to take the first step.

Perhaps Ma Kuxuan’s stubbornness was his refusal to speak honestly with anyone. He would rather die than ask for help.

Yu Shiwu could not guess the reason for Chen Ping’an’s words.

Chen Ping’an did not continue the conversation.

Yu Shiwu asked, “Chen Ping’an, do you truly need our ‘outside’ assistance?”

Chen Ping’an stated with certainty, “Of course.”

Yu Shiwu pressed, “Why?”

Chen Ping’an replied, “What if a person were forced to eat braised pork every day, three meals a day, with no other option? What would it taste like? Would it be enjoyable?”

Yu Shiwu laughed. “Of course not.”

Chen Ping’an explained, “Similarly, no matter how exquisite the land, the rivers, the buildings, the objects, or the people I create, even if they surpass your own creations, you would eventually grow weary, disgusted, even repulsed. This is instinctive. Therefore, I need you.”

Yu Shiwu sighed. “I understand.”

“Years ago, I strived for perfection. But one day, I discovered that certain ‘mistakes’ were invaluable.”

Chen Ping’an continued, “I need someone to constantly make mistakes in this realm. The more mistakes, the more real the world becomes.”

Yu Shiwu praised, “Enlightening!”

If he could survive his tribulation, Yu Shiwu would seek a place upon Fallen Mountain, even as a gatekeeper.

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “Becoming our gatekeeper is more difficult than having a seat in the Ancestral Hall of Azure Peak.”

Yu Shiwu was frustrated.

Chen Ping’an extended a hand. “Those spirit coins you’re holding for safekeeping?”

Yu Shiwu laughed, annoyed. “You make it sound like you’re borrowing something that rightfully belongs to you! If you want my money, just say so! No need to pretend!”

Chen Ping’an held his hand steady, and nodded. “Give me the money.”

Yu Shiwu pulled out a money pouch from his sleeve and slapped it into the man’s palm. “Take it all, two hundred and thirty-odd coins.”

Chen Ping’an offered his thanks.

Yu Shiwu shook his head.

Chen Ping’an asked, “Yu Daoist, do you wish to see a part of the truth? Think carefully before answering.”

Yu Shiwu replied without hesitation, “I want to see! Why wouldn’t I?”

At the center of the realm stood a Daoist tree, adorned with countless infinitesimally small “ones.”

Yu Shiwu was stunned. He could only stare in astonishment. He was both awed and terrified.

Chen Ping’an, through his ambition, his vision, was clearly recreating the Heavens! And blurring the lines between truth and falsehood, reality and illusion.

A fleeting glimpse could only convey so much. Often, one knew what something was without understanding why.

Many truths, once revealed, were either lies or merely mundane realities.

But even as Chen Ping’an unveiled the prologue to this “true reality,” Yu Shiwu’s Daoist heart faltered.

Chen Ping’an, still clad in Daoist robes, said with a self-deprecating smile, “Impurity has its own path to follow.”

A single wisp of soul returned to the Aurora Skiff. Chen Ping’an rubbed his brow and slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.

He retrieved a yellowed book from his sleeve and gently placed it upon the table. He idly flipped to a page. It described a technique treasured by cultivators as their insight grew.

“The heavens connect, the mountains share a face, soft as apricot petals, thin as paper, I point with a sword, opening the doors with haste, by the decree of the Three Mountains and Nine Lords.”

Gazing at the text, Chen Ping’an grew lightheaded and forced himself to look away.

The foreword and final pages of this ancient tome were missing. Furthermore, five random pages had been torn out from within.

But through a stroke of luck, Chen Ping’an had managed to replace them.

Li Huai had gifted Chen Ping’an this book, calling them “ghost scribbles.”

Old Yang the apothecary had given it to Li Huai, and Li Huai passed it on to Chen Ping’an.

Early in her days, the Grand Li Empress Dowager had received five such pages from the Lu family of Fortune Street, “contributed” to the court. One page described a technique for passing through walls.

She, lacking insight, had dismissed it as nothing more than a way to walk through walls.

Eventually, Chen Ping’an, accompanied by Small Mo, had acquired these five pages. Then Li Huai had gifted him the book.

A series of coincidences.

Li Huai claimed it made his head ache. In the matter of scholarship, Li Huai was, as Master Mao had said, “Limited in capacity,” but “Diligent in study.”

Chen Ping’an had acquired this rare and ancient Daoist tome. It had aided him greatly on his path of cultivation. He could see great meaning in them. He could even understand that the phrase “I point with a sword” connected this technique to the swordsman Pei Min, the Birdseye Peak’s Lu Fang, Pei Min’s unofficial disciple, and the Mirror Heart Studio’s finger-sword art. Chen Ping’an even suspected that White Shirt, formerly the town’s Lu Yue, surely held a trump card connected to this finger-sword art. Perhaps, if they were to meet upon the path, White Shirt could cleave open Chen Ping’an’s Birdcage Heaven’s restrictions with a single strike, just as the incantation claimed, “soft as apricot petals, thin as paper.” White Shirt could easily “pass” through it. Chen Ping’an had to be cautious, and guard against this possibility.

Chen Ping’an recalled a puzzling incident. During his days as a dragon kiln apprentice, he had often followed Old Yao into the mountains in search of clay. Whenever Chen Ping’an climbed high, he could see a tall mountain to the east. But after the fall of the Lucid Jewel Grotto, that mountain had vanished. Two mountains were missing. The latter was called Twin Peaks Mountain, also known as Breakhead Mountain. And fifty leagues from it was Píngmù Mountain, also called Eastern Mountain!

Chen Ping’an had asked Cui Dongshan about these two mountains, whether they had been secretly moved by some great power or sealed, remaining in place but somehow cut off from the world. Cui Dongshan did not know. And he took the opportunity to curse the old bastard.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Chen Ping’an felt a throbbing pain in his head. He hastily focused his thoughts, raised his arm, and gently struck his forehead with his fist to calm the turbulent energies within.

Chen Ping’an stretched his limbs and leaned his head against the chair’s backrest.

Bai Ze had said that bearing the demons’ True Names would become easier once Chen Ping’an reached the Immortal Realm.

He had not lied.

Gu Can stood in the hallway outside. He hesitated, then gently knocked on the door.

As Gu Can entered and closed the door behind him, Chen Ping’an remained still, his eyes closed. “Ask what you will,” he said.

Gu Can sat across the table and inquired, “Can you truly erase the memory of a cultivator?”

Chen Ping’an replied, still with closed eyes, “Dealing with a Nascent Soul is simple. Like Old Woman Pu Liu, and the demon-kin cultivator Xiao Xing, hidden within the Lotus Root Paradise. The Jade Pure Realm presents more difficulty. It would require much of my energy and qi, and it cannot be done quickly. It is like wrapping a spark in layers of paper. The stronger the Jade Pure cultivator’s Daoist heart, the greater the spark.”

Gu Can said gravely, “To affect even a Nascent Soul is astonishing! To casually erase a Nascent Soul’s key memories is tantamount to treating a heart demon, a cure at the source!”

Gu Can spoke of “you all.”

Chen Ping’an deliberately ignored the “all.” He paused and shook his head. “Do not forget, I initially used the term ‘excise’.”

He drew a line on the table with his fingernail. “With what would you fill this seemingly small, yet enormous, void?”

Like carving a piece of flesh from a person, no matter the size, it was not as simple as healing a wound or growing new flesh.

Chen Ping’an continued, “Ordinary cultivators, registered members of sects, even many land immortals, may not understand the truth. But you have no excuse.”

Gu Can nodded. “All that we see, hear, eat, smell, grieve, enjoy, think, and imagine is recorded within our souls. We are unaware, unable to perceive it ourselves.”

Chen Ping’an said, “The phrase ‘She sees it, and the Dao resides within,’ is usually used to describe genius. In truth, it is an annotation, a parallel interpretation, of ‘memory’.”

When it came to talent, there was the example of Wang Sun of the Xuandu Temple in Qizhou, Azure Underworld.

Gu Can and Chen Ping’an were in perfect accord.

Was this not a misinterpretation?

Are you more familiar with Lu Chen than I?

Why do you hold grudges? Hold it with the loud-mouthed Liu Xianyang.

Why should I hold grudges with a loud-mouth? Only with petty men like you.

Chen Ping’an continued, “Furthermore, to Pu Liu and Xiao Xing, ‘Chen Ping’an’ is not a deep or entangled memory. It is relatively simple to excise. This is one of the reasons I sent them to you, not simply to add to your glory. If they were to spend too much time with me, or cultivate on Fallen Mountain, they would almost entirely lose the possibility of reaching the Jade Pure Realm. As for altering memories, removing one thing and adding another, to create a perfect imitation, the difficulty is not in the act itself, but in ensuring it aligns with reason and the Dao. But to think this means you can stop heart demon disturbances in all Nascent Souls is but a dream. It can only be used on occasion, and on certain individuals.”

Such acts would inevitably lead to a karmic debt.

Who among those who cultivate would want to entangle themselves.

Those who wanted to do it could not. They lacked the ability.

Those who could would not want to. They lacked the will.

Chen Ping’an held something back from Gu Can.

Were there truly two identical snowflakes in the world?

Zheng Juzhong claimed to have seen them.

This meant that Zheng Juzhong could… allow any Nascent Soul cultivator to reach the Jade Pure Realm without heart demons!

Chen Ping’an even suspected that Zheng Juzhong’s current “seclusion” was intended to lure that demon from beyond the Heavens, that pseudo-Fifteenth Tier being, to come to White Emperor City and discuss the Dao!

Gu Can stated, “I will strive to establish a sect in April and reach Treasure Bottle Continent by the first day of May.”

Chen Ping’an frowned. “Why the rush?”

Gu Can looked at him.

Chen Ping’an was puzzled.

Gu Can pursed his lips. “For someone so smart, you’re quite obtuse.”

Chen Ping’an laughed, annoyed. “Enough riddles.”

Gu Can replied, “Liu Xianyang intends to hold his wedding on the fifth day of May.”

Chen Ping’an was at a loss for words. He fell into a long silence.

He strained his face and stood, walking to the window and gazing outward.

Gu Can’s answer was something Chen Ping’an had never dared imagine.

Dared not imagine.

Gu Can turned his head, looking towards the door.

Tall boy, sandal boy, runny-nosed brat.

They had often walked together on the ridge of the fields, chewing on dogtail grass. Perhaps their village was too small, their age too young, their horizons too narrow. They had never dared to dream too big.

————

Liu Taozhi needed to immediately cross continents to the headquarters of the Washer of Wrongs, to surrender Xiao Pu’s robe and seek the aid of experts, to carefully examine it for any traces or clues.

Before leaving Chongyang Temple, he had instructed Xiao Pu to carefully protect Senior Brother Cheng.

He had come to Treasure Bottle Continent for three reasons: to protect Senior Brother Cheng, to help Yuan Chaoxian return to the Immortal Mount of Hu Prefecture, and to persuade Chen Ping’an to become the chief guest of the Hidden Sword of West Mountain.

Xiao Pu asked, “What of Yuan Chaoxian? Do we simply abandon her for a few years, to dull her edge?”

The experts had long divined that Yuan Chaoxian was a treasure within the Golden Jade Forest. She had to be brought back to the mountain from Treasure Bottle Continent.

Liu Taozhi nodded. “Though tribulations abound, one cannot flee from fate. Still, cultivators must cultivate their inner spirit and accumulate outer merit to lessen their suffering. She still needs worldly experience.”

Xiao Pu said, “That may be so, but Elder Brother Liu cannot delay her cultivation any longer.”

Liu Taozhi said, “I will meet with her and pass on a sword technique. Junior Sister Xiao need not guide her. We seek to guide ordinary folk, but they must find their own way to the mountain.”

Xiao Pu shook her head. “I have just survived a tribulation myself. I lack the will. I’ll stay here.”

The middle-aged Daoist was naturally large. His Daoist energy added to the pressure he exuded. For women, he exuded the presence of a mountain’s might.

The treasure girl trembled. As the other party presented the Daoist book, he explained each word, regardless of whether she understood. Her mind was blank.

Zhong Shan, the beanpole Daoist, had visited a seedy alleyway in Longning County. He ran back to Chongyang Temple to see the old Daoist and said with regret, “Baiyun and his grandfather have moved. I asked the neighbors, but they knew nothing. I found the landlord, and he said they left some silver behind.”

The old Daoist stroked his beard and smiled. “Fate is a fickle thing. You and your friend Baiyun are not meant to meet. There is no need to be sad. What happens tomorrow, we’ll know tomorrow.”

Zhong Shan nodded.

The small Daoist child, Song Juchuan, suddenly asked, “Master, have you heard of ‘Crane Breath’?”

The old Realized Man exclaimed, “How do you know of such esoteric Daoist terms?”

Song Juchuan was shocked. “It’s real?”

Cheng Fenghuan smiled. “Of course. Though it is esoteric, your teacher knows of it. Other Daoists may not have heard of it.”

Song Juchuan thought to himself, ‘He’s so crafty!’

The old Daoist pondered, then decided to visit the haunted house in Bamboo Pole Alley. He touched some talisman water and used his purified eyes. He saw wormwood hanging at the door.

Unwilling to take it without permission, the old Daoist knocked on the door. A woman soon opened it and sized him up. She asked a strange question. “Daoist Wu?”

The old Daoist was puzzled. “You must be Xue. My name is Cheng, and my Daoist title is Huilu. I cultivate at Chongyang Temple. I came here at Wu’s suggestion to purchase the wormwood at your door.”

Xue Ruyi was confused. She looked around. “Where is the wormwood?”

There had indeed been a slick young Daoist who had tried to woo her, offering her “a pair of Ai.”

Ordinary folk hung sweet flag and wormwood to ward off evil spirits. She, Xue Ruyi, a ghost, was supposed to hang wormwood at the haunted house? What was that swindler thinking?

Xue Ruyi ignored all this and turned away. The door closed on its own. She merely left the words, “Take it yourself. I don’t want money. It’s a gift.”

Her actions left the old Daoist stunned. She was worthy of being the ghost whom the God-King Tong had been involved with. She had little power, but she was still impressive.

Xue Ruyi cared not for wormwood or Chongyang Temple. She drifted back to the swing and swayed gently, her embroidered shoes rising and falling.

It was as if a bowl-wielding Daoist would appear behind her if she didn’t turn her head.

Gazing at the plants, she rubbed her eyes. She was certain. One of the flowers, the one the Daoist had praised as the “chief” of spring, was gone.

Her eyes lit up and she smiled, as if that space had now been filled.

————

Pei Qian used a Three Mountain Talisman to cross continents to the Cloud Rock Kingdom and sat on a branch of a tree outside the capital.

In the distance, the lights of Fish Scale Ferry stretched for miles. Pei Qian was in no hurry to get there. She was lost in thought.

Someone clung to the branch behind her, hanging upside down and making faces. “Little girl, guess who I am! Are you scared?”

Without looking, Pei Qian punched backward, striking the person’s forehead. The big white goose staggered and cried in pain.

Cui Dongshan, the young man in white with the mole between his brows, rubbed his head. He flipped over and sat beside Pei Qian. He asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Pei Qian shook her head.

Cui Dongshan looked to the distance and muttered, “To shatter a continent’s landscape, those who should be carrying the coffins are now the newly dead. Thousands of miles without smoke. The dead lay in fields, their heads belonged to the Dao. Swallows return in spring, nesting in the trees.”

“Cloudleaf Continent has recovered so quickly. One can only hope the mountain immortals and nobles won’t be so forgetful, or those who died would have died in vain.”

“I am troubled.”

Pei Qian took out a jug of wine and handed it to Cui Dongshan.

Cui Dongshan waved his hand. “I won’t drink. I am abstaining today.”

Cui Dongshan rubbed his hands. “I have something to report. First, I met Yu Lu and Buke. Yu Lu is a good man. He directly said he saw Buke, the ancestor of the old Lu Dynasty, in his territory. The latter gave him a box of pills, very precious. It was the ‘Hundred Day Ascension’ from Ge Xuan’s hands. This Ge Xuan is the one who wrote that talisman you just used.”

“Bai Shirt’s only disciple, Xu Xuan, who is pestering He Xiaoliang, will soon be a help to Yu Lu’s country. Yu Lu is very sly. He asked me if it was okay. What else could I say? Also, Wu Yi, the founder of the Purple Yang Manor of the Yellow Court Kingdom, and the eldest daughter of the old dragon Cheng Longzhou, is restarting at the Lin River and founding a sect again. If nothing unexpected happens, the sect will be called Pure Yang Manor. She must want to change one word and make it the Pure Yang Sect. It is a good idea. Wu Yi has talent, just not much of it.”

“Not long ago, I brought those Cloudleaf Continent natives who were willing to leave Lotus Root Paradise through a well connecting to Great Spring Dynasty’s Mirage City. Cao Qinglang found the emperor and had a good talk. Half the cultivators, and their descendants, are climbing Great Spring and signing secret treaties to have a backer. Then they are eagerly going back to restore their countries. As a reward, Great Spring Dynasty will give us a ferry called ‘Thunder Chariot’.”

Hearing this, Pei