The barefoot old man emerged from the bamboo building, standing by the cliff’s edge, and approached Chen Ping’an. He smiled and asked, “What is it? Having weathered a significant trial, are you indulging in bittersweet memories?”

Interrupted in his thoughts, Chen Ping’an regained his composure, took a sip of wine, and turned to smile. “Is it not proper to do so?”

The old man, clad in simple white linen, appeared exceptionally refreshed and spry. “Not proper? It’s perfectly fine. Life is tasteless without hope. To endure hardship and relish blessings is the mark of a true hero. When enduring hardship, avoid lamenting to everyone about your suffering like a delicate damsel. And when enjoying blessings, accept them with a clear conscience, for they are earned through your own abilities. Why should you hide in bed, secretly delighting in your good fortune?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “Perhaps some words might displease you, Senior, but they truly come from my heart. Would you care to listen, Senior? I have never shared this with anyone, not even my best friend, Liu Xianyang.”

The barefoot old man squatted beside the bamboo chair and the youth. “Oh? Some pathetic, miserable childhood stories? Alright, tell them and let this old man find some amusement.”

Chen Ping’an drank some wine, unperturbed. He offered the crimson gourd to the old man, who waved it away, disdaining the poor quality of the wine. Chen Ping’an then opened his heart, speaking slowly, “Even when practicing martial arts, crying out in pain every day, and secretly shedding tears several times, feeling like I would be beaten to death by you, Senior, I still believe the most difficult times in my life were in my childhood. Once, it was the first time I went into the mountains alone to gather herbs. I remember it clearly; the sun was scorching hot. I carried a large basket almost as tall as myself. I was naive, thinking that a big basket could hold many herbs, and my mother would recover sooner. Then, as I walked, the skin on my shoulders chafed, and the sun burned, causing a searing pain. The key was that I had barely left the town. Just thinking about enduring this pain for half a day, a whole day, made me want to die.”

The old man scoffed.

It wasn’t to mock Chen Ping’an, but to recall the luxurious lives of the Cui clan’s descendants. Generations of officials, they were the pinnacle of wealth and power in the Treasure Bottle Continent. Yet, when those youngsters practiced martial arts, even just standing in a stance, they all acted as if they had suffered a great injustice. They would return home and complain to their parents. Or, during the cold of spring and the freeze of winter, bundled in fox fur like tightly wrapped dumplings, attending morning lessons at the family school felt like enduring the greatest hardship on earth. On New Year’s Eve, they only thought of asking their ancestors for a generous lucky money packet. The old man couldn’t stand these things, but his other brothers of the same generation indulged them. The crying child gets the candy, after all.

Chen Ping’an continued, “The second time was due to hunger. The rice jar was empty, and everything that could be sold had been sold. I went hungry for an entire day and was too ashamed to ask for help. So I wandered the alleys, hoping someone would greet me and ask if I wanted to join them for a meal. That winter was truly cold. Autumn and summer were manageable. Even if the family was poor, wearing less clothing didn’t matter. And gathering herbs in the mountains could earn some copper coins. Each time, I could also bring back wild vegetables, fruits, or borrow a hammer from the neighbors to strike rocks in the stream, stunning the small fish hiding underneath. Back home, I could dry them on the wall. No need for oil or salt; dried, they were delicious. But that winter, there was truly no way out. Without asking for help, I would starve to death. What could I do? At first, I was too embarrassed, constantly telling myself, ‘Chen Ping’an, you promised your mother you would live well. How can you be like a beggar just a year after your parents passed away?’ So I lay in bed, thinking that if I could just endure, the hunger would fade. But I didn’t know that hunger is just hunger. I didn’t pass out; instead, I became more awake. Helpless, I got out of bed and walked out into the courtyard, wandering into the alleys again. Several times, I wanted to knock on doors, but I always retracted my hand, unable to bring myself to do it. Later, I told myself to take one last walk through Mud Bottle Alley, from one end to the other. If no one opened their door and said, ‘Little Ping’an, it’s so late. Have you eaten? If not, come in and have something.’ Then I would truly knock and beg for food. But I secretly vowed in my heart that when I grew up, I would repay the family who was willing to give me food. Finally, I started walking from the Cao family’s ancestral home end of the alley, and walked all the way to the end of Gu Can’s family’s alley, but no one opened their door.”

The old man burst into laughter, without a trace of sympathy. “So, in the end, you knocked on whose door? Were they willing to let you freeload a meal?”

As Chen Ping’an spoke, the gloomy expression on his face faded, replaced with an increasingly radiant look, as if he had drunk the finest wine. “I had no choice but to walk back, crying. But I hadn’t taken a few steps when the courtyard door behind me creaked open. At first, I didn’t dare to turn around, but someone greeted me. I quickly wiped my face and looked back, seeing a neighbor holding a brazier, the kind with copper inside and bamboo weaving outside, which could be carried around. She seemed surprised to see me.”

The old man clicked his tongue. “When one door closes, another opens. So you got a free meal?”

Chen Ping’an wiped his face hard, tears streaming down, but his face was full of smiles. “No, the neighbor thought for a moment, then smiled and asked, ‘Little Ping’an, can you really gather herbs in the mountains? Do you really recognize those herbs?’ Of course, I said I did, and I wasn’t bragging. I had been going into the mountains to gather herbs almost every other day for those two years; I was more familiar with it than Mud Bottle Alley. She smiled, waved at me, and said loudly, ‘Alright, Little Ping’an, come over here. I want to ask you for a favor. My body can’t withstand the cold, and I need some herbs to brew a tonic, but the Yang family’s shop is too greedy, too expensive. I can’t afford it. Can you go into the mountains to gather herbs after spring arrives? I’ll give you copper coins, but the price must be lower.'”

Chen Ping’an said softly, “I walked over and discussed the matter with her. She handed me her brazier. After we finished talking, she saw that I hadn’t moved, and she smiled and asked, ‘What, haven’t eaten, and want to freeload a meal? No way, unless it’s included in the price of the herbs, otherwise I won’t let you in!'”
Chen Ping’an smiled, gazing into the distance. “After my parents passed, I’ve seen all kinds of gazes. Many my age cursed me as a jinx who killed his parents. Even just watching them fly kites or catch fish in the river from afar, some would throw stones at me. And some adults loved to call me a bastard, saying that a wretch like me wasn’t even fit to be a servant in a wealthy family, that I was more of an eyesore than a piece of broken porcelain from Old Porcelain Mountain. But that day, that woman chatted with me, saying that eating cost money. Old senior, you wouldn’t know how happy I was then. When I was eating inside, tears uncontrollably streamed down my face. She jokingly said, ‘Hey, Little Ping’an, is my cooking so good or so bad that it makes people cry?’ I only dared to lower my head and shovel rice into my mouth, saying it was delicious.”

The old man hummed in acknowledgement, reminding him, “Did you ever think that neighbor was actually trying to help you? But in a better way?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “I didn’t think of it at first, but after paying for meals more often, I understood quickly.”

That neighbor was later Gu Can’s mother.

So every time Gu Can’s mother argued with someone, Chen Ping’an would watch from the side. A few times the arguments got fierce, she would be swarmed by a group of women who would scratch her face and pull her hair. Chen Ping’an would run up then, protecting her, without retaliating, letting the women vent their anger on him.

So Chen Ping’an never thought he was a saint.

If a good person like Gu Can’s mother, regardless of how bad her reputation was in Mud Bottle Alley or Apricot Flower Alley, was a lifesaver to him, Chen Ping’an, then if he didn’t think about repaying her properly, Chen Ping’an felt he wasn’t even human.

What was wrong with giving Gu Can a small loach? What if he knew it was a great opportunity?

Chen Ping’an didn’t feel any heartache at all.

When the world gives you kindness, you must cherish it, treasure it, no matter how small.

So when the half-master of the kiln, Yao Laotou, said that sentence, Chen Ping’an felt it was the best principle in the world.

If it’s yours, hold on to it tightly. If it’s not yours, don’t overthink it.

No one in the world owes you anything, but if you owe someone, don’t take it lightly.

Later, Chen Ping’an treated Liu Xianyang the same way.

Gathering herbs in the mountains wasn’t a long-term solution after all. It was Liu Xianyang who taught Chen Ping’an how to set traps to catch wild game, how to make a dirt bow, how to fish. When it came to firing porcelain in the Dragon Kiln, it was still the slightly older Liu Xianyang who was protecting Chen Ping’an.

Chen Ping’an lived such a bitter life from child to teenager, until he was able to support himself. Although he was willing to reason, if it involved Gu Can or Liu Xianyang, like with the Mountain Ape incident, Chen Ping’an wouldn’t reason at all. As long as he had enough ability, he would kill them for it.

Chen Ping’an once told a girl from another town that if he ever found a girl as good as his mother, even if she was bullied by some Dao Ancestor, he would still roll up his sleeves and fight. Whether he could win or not was one thing, but whether he was willing to fight this fight for his wife was another. If he married such a good wife and didn’t know how to cherish her, Chen Ping’an would feel guilty.

Of course, Chen Ping’an felt he had found such a good girl, but he hadn’t said it yet, which was why he had to take that journey through the martial world.

He had to carry his two swords, secretly named “Demon Subduer” and “Devil Slayer”, walk up to her, and muster the courage to tell her loudly, “Miss Ning, Ning Yao! Whether you like me or not, I like you, I like you very much!”

As for whether he would get slapped or not even be able to be friends anymore, he would have to say it with a thick face first!

The old man snatched the gourd of nurtured sword energy from Chen Ping’an’s hand, tilted his head back, and took a big gulp, but didn’t immediately throw it back to Chen Ping’an, saying unhappily, “This wine is really not that great. You continue, these trivial matters are only fit to be appetizers for this pot of cheap wine.”

Chen Ping’an thought for a moment, clasping his hands in his sleeves, “After getting through that winter, I seemed to have gotten the hang of it, and my skin got thicker. When I was too hungry, I would ask people for food, and I remembered it every time, thinking that after the thaw, I could go into the mountains and earn money to pay them back. There were also kind old people who would take the initiative to give me old clothes. I wouldn’t feel embarrassed anymore, saying that my family didn’t need anything. I honestly accepted them all. In those years, I desperately went into the mountains to gather herbs, but I still didn’t earn much money, mainly because I was too weak. And some of the medicinal materials in the Yang Family Shop were hard to find, which was normal. If they were easy to find, how could I earn this money, right? So I helped the neighbors in the neighborhood. In the morning, I would help them fetch water from the Iron Lock Well. Whenever there was farm work, I would help in the fields. At night, I would squat there, helping them to grab water, to prevent others from cutting off their irrigation ditches. I didn’t dare to do it forcefully, I had to hide far away, and only dare to secretly dig it open when those strong young men left, and divert the water into the neighbor’s rice fields. After guarding the night, seeing that the water in the rice fields was full, I would refill the ditch dams. I was chased and beaten many times for this, but luckily I was young, but I could run fast, so I didn’t really suffer much.”

The barefoot old man leisurely drank his wine, saying that the wine was no good, but in fact he drank one gulp after another, he really didn’t drink less. Listening to Chen Ping’an’s trivial small town matters, the old man didn’t find it annoying at all.

Chen Ping’an spoke his mind without reservation, feeling much more relieved, and reached out to take the wine pot. The old man raised his elbow, slapped away the boy’s palm, and said impolitely, “Wait a moment.”

The old man pinched the wine gourd with two fingers, and said slowly, “Chen Ping’an, you’ve said so many trivial little things, do you want to hear some useless grand principles from me? These words, even when I was at my peak, standing at the pinnacle of martial artists in the world, do you think my vision is high enough? I also thought they were worthless. Do you want to hear them?”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “Speak, I like listening to people talk about principles.”

The old man stood up, “I once met an old scholar with a refined air on the top of a mountain in the Central Earth Divine Continent. I didn’t know his identity at the time, but later I roughly guessed some, but I didn’t understand his good intentions, which is why I fell into such a miserable state of becoming a crazy old man. At that time, I was chatting with the old scholar. Don’t look at me as a pure martial artist, constantly talking about martial principles, I am actually from a proper scholar background, I have read a lot of books. At the end of the chat with the old scholar, I asked him for some things I couldn’t understand, and then the old scholar roughly said some of his principles.”
The barefoot old man, carrying a wine gourd, began to stroll, walking in circles. “That old scholar said, we live in a complex world. Many people’s words and deeds, even those of highly learned scholars, often contradict themselves. We see so many illogical things that we can’t help but wonder if the principles in books are wrong, or rather, if those principles haven’t been fully explained, haven’t been completely understood.”

“So, here’s the question: what should we do? How should we view this world where so many preach reason but act unreasonably? There is a way. One is to live purely. My fists are hard, my swordsmanship is strong, my Daoist magic is powerful, so I use these to shatter some things. Solve complex problems simply, as long as I am happy. If the heavens and earth have rules to restrain me, I will break them with a punch. If the great Dao of the world presses down on me, I have a sword to break all laws. Even if only temporarily achieving such unrestrained joy, one must always think like this, steadfastly walking on the path in this direction. People like this can exist, but not everyone can be like this.”

Speaking of this, the old man stopped and looked at Chen Ping’an, self-deprecatingly saying, “This old man is this kind of person.”

“The old scholar continued, another way is to live very cleverly, doing whatever is easiest and most effortless. The word ‘rule’ is just for finding loopholes. If a scholar is like this, he is a cynic. Or choose between reason and emotion, choosing what suits your own emotions, not the world’s reason, so that everyone is bustling about for profit. If we could change the word ‘profit’ to the word ‘ritual,’ how wonderful would the world be?”

“The last way is to live very boringly, thinking about complex problems in even more complex ways, breaking down principles, carefully sorting them out, and slowly pondering.”

“Finally understanding a ‘why’. It’s possible that after making a big circle, you find yourself back where you started, but is it really useless? It’s not. After figuring it out, your heart will be very comfortable. It’s like… like drinking a mouthful of aged wine, warm and pleasant.”

“The Confucian sages that we scholars admire are not as perfectly good and beautiful as the world imagines. They are full of human flaws, but the true learning of Confucianism is by no means so不堪, even if you don’t agree with the four words ‘human nature is inherently good,’ it doesn’t matter, but it can still persuade people to be good.”

The barefoot old man strolled in circles, finally stopping. “This old man is not sure if that old scholar was that person, but looking back now, if it really was that person, then it was not easy for the old scholar to speak to me so calmly. After all, this old man went to the Central Earth Divine Continent to smash their place.”

The old man raised his arm, took a big gulp of strong liquor, and casually threw the sword-nurturing gourd to the young man, laughing loudly towards the distance: “In the past, I traveled far and wide, with a belly full of grand words, and I must speak them!”

The old man stood on the cliff, took a step, and looked towards the sky, “When I walk between heaven and earth, under the scorching sun and bright moon, I must ask, is the world bright enough?”

The old man turned his head and asked with a smile, “Chen Ping’an! Do you think it’s enough?!”

Chen Ping’an was about to lower his head to take a sip of wine, but after hearing the question, he had to raise his head, and said vaguely, “Not enough?”

The old man laughed heartily, reached out his hand and pointed towards the distance, “When I walk in the Jianghu, the great rivers are surging, the river water is rolling, I must ask, is the river water enough to quench thirst?”

Chen Ping’an hurriedly took a sip of wine in between, and after hearing the old man’s heroic words, he inexplicably felt a bit of heroism as well. He held the wine gourd in one hand and punched his knee with the other, joining in the fun and messing around, and said loudly, “Not enough!”

The old man spoke again, “When I walk on the mountain peaks, with jade buildings and fairy clouds, I must ask, is the mountain gale cool enough?”

Chen Ping’an, with a flushed face, took another big gulp of wine. Borrowing the strong aftertaste of the wine, his face was radiant, and he laughed wildly for the first time: “Not enough, not enough! Far from enough! The wine is not enough, the river water and mountain wind are not enough! None of them are enough!”

Over at the bamboo building, the two little ones looked at each other.

The pink-skirted girl was a little worried that her master would become a little drunkard like this, wouldn’t he?

The green-robed boy was muttering in his stomach, is the master crazy? Did he become stupid from practicing boxing? Heh, then don’t I need to practice so diligently? How about slacking off for a few days?

In the end, Chen Ping’an fell drunk, chair and all.

From then on, in the Jianghu world, there was one more drunken young man.