**The Forgotten Battlefield:**

This was the final resting place of the ancient conflict between Water and Fire.

In a blink, Jiang She arrived, his fist aimed at Chen Ping’an’s face like a thunderbolt.

Instead of drawing his sword, Chen Ping’an moved forward, meeting the mountain of a fist with his bare hand, as if trying to shake a mountain already standing.

The moment fist met palm, a swirling vortex of light appeared overhead, an anomaly born from the clash between their martial intent and the river of time.

Within this vortex, strange visions flickered – ancient battlefields erupting to life, like vivid murals illustrating war’s cruel history.

Jiang She’s fist, imbued with the power of an eleventh-realm martial artist, sent Chen Ping’an staggering backwards. He carved a furrow in the earth dozens of *li* long before regaining his footing, his sleeves billowing like sails in a storm. With a flourish, he spun his sword, its tip glowing like captured sunlight.

“You have some strength,” Jiang She observed, rotating his wrist to dissipate the remaining force of his blow. “Any lesser warrior would already be reincarnating. You’ve improved since you feigned death on Mount Taiping after barely withstanding half a punch.”

Within Jiang She’s body, his five portions of martial luck waged a constant war, three rebellious factions vexing him. It was a monarch forced to lead his troops, outnumbered by the insurgents.

Without a word, or even a flicker of spiritual energy, Jiang She gestured. The chasm he’d kicked open in the earth became a mountain range array, centered on the Dragon Ancestor Mountain, with other dragon veins branching out.

It was as if Jiang She had sculpted the land with negative space, a reversed imprint. At his command, the array would erupt, a mountain range springing from the ground, identical to any found in the world save for its stark black color. Like a mountain-shaped seal, the array descended upon Chen Ping’an, threatening to crush his small form beneath its immensity.

But Chen Ping’an remained rooted. He raised his sword and, with a casual stroke, cleaved the mountain array in two.

The mountains shattered, their contained *dao* essence dissolving into a torrential rain of golden particles. A dazzling spectacle, yet deadly nonetheless.

This was an overbearing pressure of the Great Dao, akin to heavenly tribulation.

Yet, it was dispelled with a single swing.

Jiang She chuckled. “If that’s all you have, how could I dream of facing Zhou Mi in the heavens?” As the golden rain touched the earth, it transformed into an army of golden warriors, tens of thousands strong, clad in armor and poised to strike. The partially shattered mountain ranges morphed into colossal, armored deities, hundreds or thousands of *zhang* tall, wielding weapons and invoking divine powers and spells. A torrent of abilities, as dense as a hail of arrows, descended upon Chen Ping’an.

Smiling faintly, Chen Ping’an raised his sword. With a subtle thought, the sword light coalesced into a radiant, full moon.

The moon swelled, enveloping the sword and its master, flooding the world with its ethereal glow.

The spells, the powers, the earthen warriors, the airborne deities – all were washed away by the sword’s power, vanishing without a trace.

Chen Ping’an frowned, glancing down to see a vibrant, multi-colored halberd protruding from his chest, having pierced his heart and emerged from his back.

He slowly pulled the ethereal weapon free, crushing it with a flick of his fingers. Where his heart had been, a dense globule of liquid gold pulsed, devoid of blood. This was the strength of his divine body: flawless, unblemished, and self-sustaining. It was hardly a mortal wound.

Could the “half-one,” a force capable of challenging the Heavenly Court’s Zhou Mi, be truly so easily vanquished once he ceased holding back?

Jiang She stood some distance away, leaning against his spear, “Battlebreaker,” and laughed in exasperation.

He’d been careless enough to be nicked by an errant, emerald green flying sword. The wound, a gash across his cheek, healed almost instantly, but the humiliation stung.

A drop of his blood was claimed by the sword. Chen Ping’an retrieved his sword Fifteen into his sleeve, rubbing the spoil between two of his fingers. His expression indicated some disappointment. It was unrelated to his true nature, he lamented. Otherwise, it could have been utilized like Zheng Jizhong to hunt the great demon Hu Tu, it could have become quite profitable. Chen Ping’an flicked the drop of blood onto the ground, creating a temporary “Jiang She.”

This simulacrum, hastily constructed with talismans, had little offensive power, but it had other uses. It was a template, revealing the number of pocket dimensions, the flow of *jingluo* in the human body, and the true nature of the original entity’s natal treasures, allowing Chen Ping’an to glimpse Jiang She’s inner workings.

But before Chen Ping’an could glean much, the construct rebelled. Through some unknown means, Jiang She had subverted it, causing it to strike at Chen Ping’an’s face.

Chen Ping’an twisted its neck, and the body dissolved like snow, reverting to a single drop of blood that sought to flee into the earth. Chen Ping’an extended his palm, trapping it within a miniature array. He then imprisoned it in an invisible, white bowl above his hand, the blood droplet whirling incessantly, unable to escape.

Jiang She released his spear and challenged, “Will you face me in a fair contest of martial prowess?”

Chen Ping’an replied with a smile, “Will you face me in an honest battle of minds? Poetry and prose, a competition of talent?”

As he spoke, Chen Ping’an flicked his wrist. Above his palm, within the crude “bowl,” seven tiny characters materialized from the droplet: “Jiang She,” “Essence Spirit,” “Strategist,” and “Martial.” They were written in crimson ink, as if etched onto the inner surface of a pristine porcelain bowl, ready for the kiln.

Did Chen Ping’an intend to forge a natal porcelain treasure for this progenitor of strategists?

The crude white bowl, though unbaked, was already as thin as paper, translucent. The seven characters within were arrayed in a formation.

Jiang She narrowed his eyes. Was it a feint? Or something more? Could Master Sanshan Jiuhou have revealed this secret art to Chen Ping’an as a reward for averting the collision between two realms in the outer territories, a deed of immense merit?

Chen Ping’an held the bowl high, gazing at the empty base, as if contemplating what inscription would be most fitting.

*The Dipper Stands High.*

Jiang She shook his head. “Merely a charade. You lack the ‘fire.'”

Even the little girl Fu Ke in Qingming could conjure the Ziwei Enclosure Great Array in Yin Zhou. Chen Ping’an was the half-one after all, he would be more justified to be the nexus of the array instead of the Xu Juan the ghost. This battlefield, scarred by the conflict between Water and Fire, possessed no shortage of lingering essences, a natural kiln. Yet, this Dipper, the word “Zhu” would not work. Jiang She was not a demon either. And Chen Ping’an was not Master Huolong who was at the 14th realm.

At the summit, great cultivators always have a trump card. And there are some that are surprisingly effective.

Jiang She has been burned several times by a random trick that he’s been wary of them

Chen Ping’an feigned realization, as if exposed. He abandoned the idea of inscribing the bowl and tossing it into the dragon kiln. Instead, he let it slip into his sleeve.

By first condensing water essence into a bowl, then refining it with fire, Chen Ping’an was attempting to harness the natural energies of the site, to draw upon the lingering *dao* of the ancient conflict, turning the world itself against Jiang She.

A chain of interconnected actions.

It was clear that Chen Ping’an was using his own methods against him, employing the art of war.

Chen Ping’an’s pure gold eyes locked onto Jiang She.

Life was a journey through the river of time.

There are a lot of similarities.

Both were martial artists who combined spells and divine powers.

In the ancient world, Jiang She was the first to slay a god and shatter its golden body. As such, he gained the blessing of “humanity.”

Within the Black Pearl Grotto, Chen Ping’an was the first to slay a Qi cultivator. Therefore, he got to return to the gambling table.

Both were heretics.

Today’s confrontation felt destined, like a dance between debtor and creditor.

Fame preceded them.

One of the ten heroes of the ancient world, the fourth in humanity, the progenitor of strategists, a martial artist of the eleventh realm.

Every single title would impose a pressure on a cultivator of the fourteenth realm.

Chen Ping’an adopted Xiao Mo’s way of thinking. He wasn’t afraid of anyone, because they’re human after all.

Jiang She asked, “Did you choose this battlefield deliberately?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “I forgot.”

He had some theoretical enemies like Wu Shuangjiang, and Pei Min who was one of the Taoists on both lands, Bai Shang, who was plotting to manipulate the Qi of the swords in the Bottled Continent, and Wu Zhou, who was likely to ambush Chen Ping’an to steal the treasure.

In order to contain his godhood, he had to forget and self imprison in the cage of the mind.

Jiang She looked at Chen Ping’an’s expression. “A sword can only be as free as its master is. Why bother? Why not be equal?”

Chen Ping’an was nothing more than a sword cultivator in the immortal realm, so his heart hindered his boundary.

When Chen Ping’an climbed the mountain, it seemed that the sword was unrestrained. However, it was only because Chen Ping’an had no desire to kill. If Chen Ping’an decided to kill someone, the sword had to let Chen Ping’an do it.

Jiang She shook his head. “I feel bad for you lovebirds.”

If Chen Ping’an had someone who can kill as easily as the Sword, Chen Ping’an would be running around freely even if he was only a Jade Pure realm swordsman.

Even the gods could not surpass the Heavenly Dao.

Jiang She asked, “Weren’t you desperate to see the Sword on the banks of the River of Time?”

Chen Ping’an ignored him. “If you didn’t come to me, then I would have gone to you.

“And you found me a reason, so I don’t have to think too much about it.”

After a pause, Chen Ping’an said with a complex expression, “My brother…”

It was hard to describe.

***

**The Wild North**

This was a strange band of travelers with all kinds of people.

The tribesman from the wild north lead the group and described the customs and sights to the group. Since they were not enemies, he decided to have some goodwill that would eventually give him a place to stay in Qingming.

In the wild north, if someone makes a friend, it can lead to making a bunch of enemies. It’s like the bureaucracy of the Bottled Continent.

But what about Qingming that is filled with Taoists? The tribesman wondered as he walked next to Zhang Fenghai.

Zhang Fenghai was the Sect Master of the Private Taoists, the Rue Month Peak, and only had control of the mountain where the Hall of Masters was, and the part of the Weak River.

He was a new cultivator of the fourteenth realm, and called himself “Mud.”

The Deputy Sect Master was Lu Tai.

Lu Tai was being followed by Lu Chen, an earth dog.

And then there was Li Huai from the academy of the Bottled Continent. He was ordinary when he was with others, but he was weird in this group.

Lu Tai asked a bunch of questions to Li Huai about Chen Ping’an and Yinyi.

The tribesman sighed. “How strong is Lin Jiangxian?”

Zhang Fenghai said, “His killing is not comparable to the average fourteenth realm cultivator.”

The tribesman nodded. “That is the best compliment a martial artist can get.”

Zhang Fenghai wondered, “You see yourself as a martial artist?”

The tribesman laughed. “I’m a selfish person, and it’s easier to master martial arts.”

Although Zhang Fenghai did not spend a lot of time with the demon from the wild north, he was pretty fond of him. The tribesman told himself to not get too attached and join Zhang Fenghai’s group.

The tribesman calmed himself and asked, “Do you have enough Taoist power to pass tribulation?”

Zhang Fenghai was willing to answer his question directly. “I have one more to overcome. I have an agreement with the Taoist Ancestor to attend a debate between the three religions. As soon as one tribulation ends, another begins.”

The tribesman said, “Debates are also tribulation.”

Zhang Fenghai smiled. “You’re right.”

Every person has to overcome tribulation whether they’re an immortal or a mortal.

Those without power follow the law. And those with power are pushed by the laws of Heaven.

Like Wang Jia from Fuyuan Continent, he said that he has to overcome three tribulations: destruction of a continent, a destruction of the Sect, and his own death.

Ning Yao left home, and ended up staying at the Black Pearl Grotto.

The tribesman clasped his hands and said, “I would like to visit you at Rue Month Peak to see if I can select a path to the Great Dao.”

Zhang Fenghai nodded. “Following Heaven is not something you have to hide.”

The tribesman asked, “Then what is the heart of Heaven?”

Zhang Fenghai smiled. “When you go to Rue Month Peak, I will tell you and you can think what you will about it.”

The tribesman rubbed his chin as he remembered his worries. “Bai will not let me leave. You can leave the Smokescape Grotto, but I cannot leave the Wild North.”

Zhang Fenghai said, “I wanted to ask Bai for help anyway. And the Wild North might need an escape, a safe haven if the North falls.” This was like the Ascending City of the Sword Qi Great Wall, Qi Tingji and the Longxiang Sect of the Southern Bottled Continent, and Cheng Quan and Hao Su in Qingming. Different returns with similar goals.

The tribesman said, “Thank you whether this works or not.”

Zhang Fenghai laughed. “’Following Heaven is not something you have to hide.’ This is for both of us.”

The tribesman laughed as well. It’s nice to have a smart friend. Fate is great.

They did not speak very loudly, so Li Huai thought that they were saying gibberish.

Lu Tai asked, “You’re smiling more today. Did you meet the love of your life?”

Shi Xingyuan rolled her eyes at the tribesman.

Lu Bixia said in surprise. “I didn’t expect the Sect Master to meet such a compatible friend in this uncivilized place.”

If Zhang Fenghai brings this demon back to Rue Month Peak, that would be helpful. Perhaps he can be the mountain guardian?

The tribesman asked, “Why did Lin Jiangxian choose to stand in Qingming?”

Zhang Fenghai stayed silent and had a guess.

Both Baiyujing and Lin Jiangxian were waiting for “Chen?”

Baiyujing was waiting for Grandmaster Kou’s Harmony.

Yan Guo, the last priest from the Sword Qi Great Wall was waiting for Yinyi?

What’s next when he arrives?

***

After seeing Zheng Jizhong, Daoist Lu could relax. Great service!

He sang a local tune, and raised his sleeves.

Lu Chen stopped, and looked up to see someone. The others here are all similar, so he’s glad to see someone. He went up to the person and warned him that he was coming so that he would be recognized as an ally.

A young looking cultivator was slowly decaying here.

The cultivator sat cross-legged and breathed in and out.

Every breath released colorful clouds.

It would be called a miracle.

The ashes gathered around the man into circles like the rings of a tree.

Lu Chen asked, “Sir, can I speak with you?”

The cultivator opened his eyes and sighed, which lead to ashes falling off his back.

“Why did you come?” the cultivator rasped. Lu Chen understood him, so he must have learned it from Master Bixiao.

Lu Chen thought that this guy must have pissed off Master, so he’s hiding here.

Someone who could anger Master Bixiao must have high strength.

Lu Chen clasped his hands. “I am Lu Chen. I came here to see you, sir.”

The cultivator looked at the young man’s robes. He thought that this guy was new here.

Most come here to hide and face Heaven.

Lu Chen nodded. “He’s a fifteenth. It’s a good thing that Baiyujing wants to send gifts.”

The cultivator was shocked by that statement.

He hastily formed signs.

The signs lead to lights swirling around him. The cultivator frowned and looked at the young man. “Are you making fun of me by lying?”

Lu Chen sat cross-legged and asked. “Do you want to calculate my fate?”

The cultivator’s expression turned complicated, before he was exhausted. “Who are you? What’s your boundary? Who are you to me?”

Lu Chen nodded. “That makes sense.”

The cultivator said in surprise, “I did not expect you to know martial arts?”

Lu Chen said in embarrassment, “I’m not that good, just know some basics. I have no choice since I travel around a lot and have to protect myself. If I don’t know some tricks, what can I do?”

The cultivator nodded. “You have a point. It is easier to use your fists to make someone understand.”

Traveling and earning a living must have been a joke. It was rare to find a young Taoist like him after being around for three thousand years.

The cultivator wanted to rest, and asked, “Since we met on accident, where are you going?”

Lu Chen said, “I go home when I get hungry.”

***

After going on mountain patrols with the right protector, the boy who was next to him said loudly, “Follow Boss Yin and we can eat nine meals a day!”

After the patrol, the boy said that he wanted to go to the Sword Worship Platform to see his apprentice.

His apprentice was Yao Xiaoyan, and she was as tall as her master.

The boy who was called the Martial Library had already taught three kinds of sword styles to Yao Xiaoyan.

The boy did not go up, but he was walking on the mountain path and flipped through a book that recorded the happenings on the mountain.

For example, Wen Zixi said some nasty things about Boss Yin and asked why he wasn’t in the Wild North.

The boy closed the book and began murmuring under his breath.

Then, a voice entered his mind. “There is a reason why he’s not going.”

The boy was shocked and froze as if he was under a spell.

A golden light escaped from his brow, and Wu Shuangjiang walked out. “Follow me.”

The boy followed.

Chen Ping’an promised to take care of the boy, and he would uphold that.

Chen Ping’an likely knew the results of Wu Shuangjiang’s trip earlier than the cultivators of Qingming.

Chen Ping’an had knew that Wu Shuangjiang had passed away in Baiyujing.

The Falling Mountain has to find a guardian for the boy. Perhaps Xie Gou, or Grandparent Long.

And Chen Ping’an did not do that, which means that it already had an answer that it got from Wu Shuangjiang.

Wu Shuangjiang had a method to open a path to the Heavens that could not be found by Baiyujing or the Confucius Temple.

Realm Shift.

Of course, Baiyujing and the Confucius Temple could predict that Wu Shuangjiang would body snatch and investigate. But Saint Li has gone to the Dili Capital, and some of the best students from the Confucius Temple visited Falling Mountain before. Since they said nothing, the Confucius Temple has a weird stance on this.

The Sword’s appearance in Qingming was not a warning to Baiyujing, but it was a warning to Wu Shuangjiang.

It was time to act.

***

Liu Xiang paid his respects, and traveled to the Firm Leaf Continent.

Soon, Liu Xiang got a “Firm Leaf” friend.

He was wearing a jade crown and had gold eyes.

But he had scars, and his clothes kept changing.

This was the Harmony caused by the Qi of the Firm Leaf Continent.

Liu Xiang said, “The saints of the Confucius Temple are worried about the Snow White Continent, so I will give it some love. The Wild North refuses to obey me, so I favor them. Your Firm Leaf Continent is the most closed off, so I will let you manifest. When he goes to the Wild North, follow him.”

***

Jiang She felt that Chen Ping’an felt different and he felt a sense of danger from a man that was supposed to lead the military.

Chen Ping’an said to himself, “I finally remember. The three Taoist Ancestors dispersed and the world is in chaos. It turns out that Senior Cui has planned this all out.”

“Let the youngest brother lead the military.”

“Let Chen Ping’an create the teaching and become the ancestor.”