The old scholar stamped his foot, exasperatedly saying, “Only petty men and women are difficult to nurture! The ancients did not deceive me!”

The tall woman twirled the snow-white lotus leaf, plucked from who knows where, her killing intent heavy. Although a smile remained on her face, she looked chilling no matter how one looked at it. “Can’t win in a fight, so you resort to insults? You asking for a beating?!”

The circular sword formation, originally spread out for ten li, instantly contracted, confining itself to the area around the riverside cliff. At the same time, the sword qi became increasingly fierce and astonishing. The sword formation walls, formed from condensed sword qi, even influenced the intangible Dao that flowed through the heavens and earth.

The old scholar shrank his neck, a flash of inspiration striking him. He immediately gained confidence and loudly asked, “Fighting is fine, but can we change the way we fight? Don’t worry, my request can incidentally include Chen Ping’an and is guaranteed to be reasonable and to your liking!”

The tall woman remained silent, suddenly noticing the old man winking at her energetically.

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

Inside the inn, above the well, the young man formed a sword with his two fingers, pointing towards the bottom of the well.

The first wisp of sword qi, which had created a rainbow glow, gradually faded within the old well, no longer as dazzling and blinding. By the light, Chen Ping’an could vaguely see this wisp of sword qi, described as “extremely small,” solidifying after leaving the qi mansion acupoint. Like a torrential rain, it crazily slammed against a “ground,” which seemed to be the surface of a round mirror.

Chen Ping’an, of course, wouldn’t know that it was called the Lei Bu Si Yin Jing (雷部司印鏡 – Mirror of the Thunder Department Seal), of extraordinary origin and great history!

After the fall of an ancient Heavenly Emperor who oversaw the laws of thunder, the gods of the Thunder Department seized the opportunity to rise, dividing up the thunderous authority of the ancestor of all laws. Each controlled a portion of the thunderous power. Later, their situation became even more dire. Apart from the Thunder Department deity responsible for heralding spring, many other deities had long been reduced to the level of mountain and river gods. They were either bound by the restraints and decrees of the Three Teachings’ Saints, unable to cross the “thunder pond,” or were frequently summoned and dismissed at will by military powers such as the Fengxue Temple Zhenwu Mountain, or by some Taoist sects, using thunder magic talismans and summoning techniques.

And this Lei Bu Si Yin Jing had once belonged to one of the righteous gods of the Thunder Department. Although it had suffered many tribulations, its surface and interior long dilapidated, the lightning radiance within almost completely worn away, it was by no means something that an Enduring and Middle Five Realms cultivator could break.

The white-clothed youth in the ancient well was being suppressed downwards by more than ten feet, still desperately using his hands and shoulders to hold up the bottom of the mirror. Struck by the sword qi, the mirror surface trembled violently, constantly cracking and shattering, but was quickly restored to its original appearance by the residual thunder and lightning contained within the mirror.

The sword qi attacked like iron cavalry breaching a formation, the mirror defended like infantrymen holding their ground to the death.

The two wore each other down, seeing who would exhaust their momentum first.

The youth, Cui Chan, gritted his teeth, his face covered in blood, blurring his handsome features. He no longer had the strength to utter harsh words, and could only silently recite in his heart: “Survive this sword qi rainstorm, and I will repay it a hundredfold when I get up there! I can definitely do it. The momentum of the sword rain is waning. I just need to persevere a little longer. Chen Ping’an, you wait!”

Although the youth’s spirit at the bottom of the well was undiminished, his blood-soaked appearance was truly pathetic.

Even during the bleak years after betraying his master’s sect, traveling all the way, leaving the Central Earth Divine Continent, going to the southern continent, and finally choosing to settle in the smallest East Treasure Bottle Continent, Cui Chan, the former leading disciple of the Literary Sage, had traveled who knows how many millions of miles. Along the way, wasn’t he free and unrestrained? What demon, ghost, or monster could have made him so disheveled?

You should know that before becoming the Grand Tutor of Great Li, the wandering scholar Cui Chan had a vulgar catchphrase. After wantonly slaying demons and eliminating monsters according to his own liking, he would say, “Turned to ashes with a flick of the finger, truly less than ants.”

The youth Cui Chan, bearing the mirror, continued to fall, but the extent of the fall gradually decreased.

The mirror could still hold on, but sword qi constantly streamed down from the outside of the mirror, continuously soaking him. The youth’s body was already tottering.

He had no choice but to move his mind, and a life-saving talisman, his trump card treasured for many years, slid out from his sleeve. Using it at this time, his face was so distorted that it was somewhat hideous.

The golden talisman first adhered to the cuff of his white robe, and then instantly melted. Soon, the surface of Cui Chan’s white robe was covered with golden runes. Listening closely, there were even faint sounds of Buddhist chanting. The white robe rippled like water, setting off the youth Cui Chan with a solemn and dignified appearance.

This talisman was extremely special. If gold powder and cinnabar were the most important materials for drawing talismans, then there were some rare materials that, once made into talismans, had wondrous effects that were indescribable. For example, Cui Chan’s was made with the golden blood of a Western Buddha Country arhat as the main material. Moreover, this enlightened monk was almost reaching the bodhisattva status, so his blood appeared golden. Poured into gold powder, and with the scriptures of the Diamond Sutra written on the talisman, it could be transformed into a Vajra protective talisman with endless Buddhist power, capable of withstanding even the full-force strike of a Land Immortal.

How could the youth Cui Chan not feel heartache?

After offering this priceless life-saving talisman, the youth calculated slightly and easily figured out that the sword qi would at most cause the mirror surface to shatter, but the mirror itself would not be damaged. In the future, as long as he went to the clouds during thunder and lightning nights, guiding lightning into the mirror, the Lei Bu Si Yin Jing could be restored to its original state in a few years.

With this, Cui Chan’s heart was settled. Slightly tilting his arm, he casually wiped the blood from his face. “A humiliating disgrace, almost ruining the foundation of my golden branch and jade leaves!”

Cui Chan closed his eyes and began to accumulate momentum silently.

Waiting for that crucial moment when the sword qi was about to dissipate but not completely gone was the time for him to kill his way up the well.

Of course, he wouldn’t wait for the sword qi to completely dissipate.

If he waited until the sword qi had completely disappeared, and Chen Ping’an above discovered that he wasn’t dead, then that mud-legged fellow from Mud Bottle Lane might really have some follow-up sinister tricks.

After all, at this time, whether it was his cultivation or his body, he couldn’t withstand any accidental “probing” anymore.

Truly, the Great Dao is muddy, and the path is rugged!

The youth felt great hatred in his heart.

Back then, the trip to the small town was the closing battle that Grand Tutor Cui Chan believed in. Because it involved the opportunity to prove his Dao, he did not hesitate to split his soul in half, residing in another body, leaving Great Li’s capital openly as a youth.
Originally, I thought that even if I couldn’t sever the literary fortune of Scholar Wen Sheng and my junior brother Qi Jingchun’s lineage, I could still use the Mud Bottle Lane youth as an object of contemplation, using other people’s mountains to polish jade, hone my temperament, make up for the most lacking state of mind, and thus help myself break through the tenth realm in one go. Then, I would have hope of returning to the peak cultivation of the twelfth realm, and even promote my knowledge with the help of the Great Li. As long as my accomplishments and knowledge could spread across half a continent in the future, I could go one step further. If the Confucian disciples in a continent were all my, Cui Chan’s, students and disciples, the benefits would be unimaginable.

At the time, no matter how I calculated it, I, Cui Chan, would be in an invincible position, the only difference being the size of the gain.

But I never expected that Qi Jingchun’s true direct disciple was not Zhao Yao, to whom he sent the Spring Character Seal, nor Song Jixin, to whom he sent the remaining books, nor even the young reading seeds like Lin Shouyi.

It was the little girl named Li Baoping, a woman! How can a woman inherit the literary tradition? A female teacher, a female master? Aren’t you afraid of becoming a laughingstock of the world? Aren’t you afraid of being regarded as the number one heretic by those old men in the Confucian academies?

Even more unexpectedly, Qi Jingchun, on behalf of his master, accepted Chen Ping’an as a disciple, and gave him the relic of Wen Sheng, the teacher of both Cui Chan and Qi Jingchun.

In this way, not only was the literary tradition not severed, and the flame passed on to Li Baoping’s generation, but it also made Cui Chan, who had betrayed his master and rebelled against his sect, once again bound to Wen Sheng because of Chen Ping’an.

This caused Cui Chan, who mistakenly thought he had a sure victory, to have his state of mind shattered instantly. Coupled with the intangible fortune traction, he fell to the fifth realm. If it weren’t for reaching an alliance with Old Man Yang afterwards, learning a long-lost secret art of the Divine Dao, and making up for a loophole in Cui Chan’s own research on a secret art, allowing him to quickly nourish his soul, like withered trees meeting spring, his cultivation would have begun to flow back and rise.

But this kind of secret method has a fatal flaw: the accumulated cultivation is a “false image”. Once it is used up, it will be beaten back to its original form. Unless one breaks through the tenth realm in one breath and enters the upper five realms, one can “make the false true, and the true false”, with uncertainty and confusion, and it will be a different world.

When arriving at the Autumn Reed Inn in this prefectural city, the “false image” realm of the young Cui Chan had actually approached the ninth realm again. This was the opportunity to use the military’s “inviting the gods” method to invite a golden body Dharma appearance of a Confucian sage. The realm is false, but the means are real. That’s why the Hanshi River Water God was so frightened, otherwise, with the Qingpao man’s experience and city government of commanding the northern water transport for hundreds of years, how could he be tamed by Cui Chan like a stream catfish without suffering enough?

Under the well.

The torrential rain of sword qi poured down from the wellhead was still aggressive, and the sword light splashed everywhere after being hit by the mirror.

The white-clothed youth had almost stepped on the bottom of the well’s waterway. The well water and the city’s groundwater connected to the river had long been evaporated by the sword qi.

The young Cui Chan began to count down in his heart.

He didn’t want to kill Chen Ping’an, that was absolutely true, at least for the time being.

Because Cui Chan was more like playing tug-of-war, hoping to pull the young man onto his own Dao. At least in the short term, Cui Chan would not only not harm Chen Ping’an, but would instead help Chen Ping’an increase his cultivation as much as possible. At most, he would subtly change Chen Ping’an’s temperament, like a spring breeze turning into rain, imperceptibly, and eventually become his, Cui Chan’s, fellow traveler. If Chen Ping’an was lucky enough to inherit Cui Chan’s mantle in the future, Cui Chan would not refuse.

But Cui Chan really wanted to kill Li Baoping.

Because once this little girl grows up in the future, and Cui Chan is still connected to Chen Ping’an after all, the more infamy and exclusion Li Baoping suffers, the more or less Cui Chan’s Great Dao cultivation will be affected. This is absolutely unacceptable to Cui Chan, who pursues perfection.

The young Cui Chan felt that this was simply an unprovoked disaster.

Even if I were a scheming villain, why would I pretend to be a grandson all the way to kill you, Chen Ping’an? It’s obviously harmless to you.

Why do you, Chen Ping’an, have to kill me just because of a little speculation?!

Why can you kill people without hesitation just because you think I harbor evil intentions towards the three children?

Then what kind of gentleman are you? Qi Jingchun has always admired gentlemen, why are you, who are valued by Qi Jingchun, so unreasonable? Why does the old man want me to learn how to be a person from you?! I, Cui Chan, was once the chief disciple of Wen Sheng, and once taught Qi Jingchun knowledge. In terms of my status in the Confucian orthodoxy, I, Cui Chan, am much higher than a virtuous gentleman. But you, Chen Ping’an, do things so instinctively. The old man’s vision is as bad as ever.

Qi Jingchun helped you choose and choose, isn’t it equal to helping you choose a second Cui Chan?

The young Cui Chan, whose feet touched the stone slabs, continued to count down in his heart, waiting for an opportunity to act.

At the same time, a burst of pleasure surged in his chest.

Haha, so much the better. This means that after I get out of this predicament, while slowly tormenting you, I will at least let you, Chen Ping’an, live a life of ignominy, keeping you alive. You will walk that Great Dao with me in the future, and it will be more natural and smooth. In this case, your luck isn’t too bad.

Furthermore, the textual restraint that the dead old man planted on Cui Chan is only aimed at Chen Ping’an alone, prohibiting Cui Chan from having any evil thoughts towards Chen Ping’an, otherwise he will suffer the pain of flogging and诛心. Apart from this, it does not restrict other behaviors. This is somewhat consistent with the old man’s learning, which emphasizes tracing back to the source in everything, and only after correcting the source can one develop branches and leaves in morality, writing, behavior, and dealing with the world.

In the future, I, Cui Chan, will make you watch with your own eyes how Qi Jingchun’s direct disciple, that little girl named Li Baoping, dies in front of you, and I will make you understand what the struggle for the Great Dao is, and why she died!

The time has come!

Cui Chan’s arms, which were propping up the mirror, were already bloody and the bones were visible, but he didn’t care. “Sword Qi like a rainbow, is it? Waterfall hanging upside down, is it? Get out of my way!”

But just before Cui Chan thought he had succeeded, there was only such a slight difference. The straw-sandal-wearing youth, whose feet were rooted and stood firmly on the wellhead, finally finished accumulating his strength. Although his soul was shaking and every part of his internal organs was aching to the bone, he could only tremble slightly and say, “Go.”

The second waterfall poured down.

Damn you, Chen Ping’an, I’m going to be killed here by you.

That was the only thought in the young Cui Chan’s mind at the time.

Chen Ping’an was tottering on the wellhead.

Before that.
Chen Ping’an sat in the pavilion for the second time tonight. He and Li Baoping, awakened from a nightmare, sat facing each other as a wisp of inexplicable breeze caressed the small pavilion.

The boy recalled something, feeling a pang in his heart. He closed his eyes with Li Baoping, carefully listening to the sound of the iron horse wind chimes under the eaves.

At that time, the boy silently told himself, “Mr. Qi, if the sound of the wind chimes under the eaves is an even number, then let it go, and endure that one surnamed Cui. But if it is an odd number, I will take action.”

*Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-dong.*

After the seventh sound, there was no more.

So, after the little girl in the red cotton-padded jacket left the pavilion, the boy stood on the edge of the well.

Earlier, before the straw sandal boy left the small town.

That time, reminded by Yang Laotou, Chen Ping’an took the umbrella and left Yang’s shop to return the umbrella to the Xue Shu (private school) teacher who visited Yang Laotou and gifted him two *shan shui* (mountain-water) paintings.

One big and one small walked on the small street.

“A *junzi* (gentleman) can be deceived with *fang* (principles). You can say this to Yang Laotou and others.”

“If you are unsure what to do in the future, you can ask the spring breeze. Well, you just need to keep this sentence in your heart, and you might need it in the future. But I hope you don’t need it.”

After saying these words, the double-templed frost-white scholar, rarely not as rigid and serious as when teaching in the Xue Shu, blinked his eyes, looked at the boy, and smiled warmly.

When the boy left the small town with the little girl.

A certain scholar in a green robe, after visiting a certain *da dong tian* (great grotto-heaven) of *tian wai tian* (heaven beyond heaven), returned to the mortal realm and walked side by side with the straw sandal boy and the little girl in the red cotton-padded jacket for a distance, then stopped and watched the backs of his *shidi* (junior brother) and his disciple, no longer seeing them off.

When the scholar waved goodbye silently for the last time, with this light wave of his sleeve, a gust of spring breeze lingered around the boy, silent and lasting for a long time.

In the well.

Along with the Lei Bu Si Yin (Thunder Department Commander’s Seal) mirror, the boy Cui Chan was smashed back to the bottom of the well, curled up, lying on the extremely dry bluestone floor, trying to hide under the mirror.

Although he tried his best, making a final death throes struggle, Cui Chan’s heart was already filled with despair.

The mirror shook violently, bringing tremendous impact to the white-robed boy below, and the sword qi “water flow” flowing across the mirror surface, bringing tremendous burning sensation to the boy’s body, made him begin to lose consciousness.

Just as he was about to close his eyes.

The *jingu* (restriction/imprisonment) branded by the Old Scholar on the soul of the boy Cui Chan disappeared.

The white-robed boy’s spirit soared. As if after a long drought met sweet rain, he was exceptionally energetic. Where would Cui Chan dare to hold back any strength? If he didn’t fight desperately at this time, when would he? “Haha, Heaven helps me! Old man, you will also make this kind of flaw! Old coot, you will also have a day of backfiring! It’s really Heaven helping me, Cui Chan! Heaven never seals off all paths!”

One by one, golden characters full of *hao ran zheng qi* (grand righteousness) were peeled from Cui Chan’s soul, whose face was twisted with pain. This kind of pain that made one’s thoughts nowhere to hide was even more terrifying than being sliced into a thousand pieces.

But Cui Chan’s mind became clearer and clearer. “Sage’s teachings, use literature to carry the Tao.” The white-robed boy drove the temporarily masterless golden characters to strike the sword qi waterfall.

The golden characters collided with the sword qi.

There was no momentum at all, but the more silent it was, the more shocking and suffocating it was.

It was no longer in the category of any strength or power competition, but simply another form of the Dao (Way) competition.

This waterfall.

In the end, it was just a wisp of “extremely small” sword qi.

And those golden characters were just temporarily borrowed.

The two were deadlocked, and in the end, it seemed that they would happen to achieve a situation of equal strength.

Like two armies facing each other, resulting in a lose-lose situation, both completely annihilated.

After Cui Chan sensed the opportunity, he no longer resigned himself to death, and began to sit up cautiously, then squatted up little by little, and finally he managed to stand up bending over.

He moved to the side. The mirror instantly tilted, pouring all the remaining sword qi to the other side of the well’s inner wall. The white-robed boy simply threw away the ancient mirror, touched the ground with his feet, and soared into the sky. Then his figure disappeared instantly, only a resentful and sinister voice constantly echoed within the ancient well: “Even if you have the third sword qi now, it’s too late!”

Chen Ping’an stood at the wellhead, with his hands in the stance of the sword furnace *li zhuang* (standing post), ready to meet the enemy with his fist techniques after the last sword qi left.

That *Han Shan Pu* (撼山谱, Mountain Shaking Manual), in the opening preface, clearly stated the purpose: “Those of later generations who practice my Mountain Shaking Fist, even if they face the Patriarchs of the Three Teachings, remember that our boxing techniques can be weak, the momentum for victory can be lost, but only the fist intent! Must never retreat!”

At the same time.

In the quiet small courtyard, the little girl in the red cotton-padded jacket woke up again in the house, not from a nightmare, but was awakened by a Sophora japonica wooden sword (*huai mu jian*) slapping her.

Dazed, Li Baoping suddenly widened her eyes. The wooden sword, which broke through the window, rapidly engraved the character “齊 (Qi)” in the air, and then swooshed towards the door. Li Baoping jumped out of bed with lightning speed, not even putting on her shoes, running barefoot, opened the door, and followed the wood to her Little Shishu’s (martial uncle) room, because Chen Ping’an had not yet returned, so the door was not locked, and had already been crashed open by the flying sword. Li Baoping rushed in with the flying sword and saw it pointing to the back basket.

Finally, under the guidance of the flying sword’s pointing, Li Baoping took out a seal hidden by her Little Shishu, and found that it was the “Jing Xin De Yi (Serene Mind Content)” seal that her Little Shishu had only secretly shown her once. The flying sword then vigorously “nodded” and flew swiftly outside.

The little girl clutched the Jing (serene) character seal that Mr. had given to her Little Shishu, and followed the Sophora japonica wooden sword, which had appeared inexplicably in the back basket, all the way to the pavilion. She familiarly leaped out of the pavilion and ran towards the wellhead where her Little Shishu was standing.

In an instant, the seal in Li Baoping’s hand broke free from her palm and swiftly flew towards the wellhead, higher than her Little Shishu’s head, and then with a dull *pa* sound.

Above the wellhead, someone cried out heartrendingly: “Again? Qi Jingchun, I **** your *dà yé* (grandfather)! Haunting spirit, will you ever be done?!”

They saw a white-robed boy, who had inexplicably appeared in the air above the wellhead, being heavily hit on the forehead by a seal, flying upside down and falling to the ground.
A white-robed youth, his cultivation utterly depleted, mumbled in the instant before losing consciousness, “Qi Jingchun, you are ruthless, I concede.”

(End of this chapter)