By the grace of the venerable Wei Bo, Chen Ping’an found himself dwelling in a realm of opulent splendor. Carved beams and jade structures, a labyrinth of rooms, and decorations of exquisite artistry gave Chen Ping’an the distinct impression that he had stumbled into the very abode of an emperor. Could it truly be so?

Furthermore, two handmaidens, named Chunshui and Qiushi, were appointed to serve him aboard the Kun vessel. One was plump of figure, the other slender and lithe – stark contrasts in form, yet sisters of blood, sharing a likeness of face and a kindred spirit.

Their duty was to attend to the esteemed guest Chen Ping’an, providing for his every need in matters of food, clothing, lodging, and transport. Their servility, however, made Chen Ping’an uneasy. How could he, a simple soul, accept such benevolence? He insisted on tending to his own needs. Despite the maids’ fervent persuasion, Chen Ping’an remained resolute. And so, as night descended, Chen Ping’an requested a basin of steaming water to soak his calloused feet. The two girls watched from a distance, resentment flickering in their eyes. Uncomfortable beneath their gaze, Chen Ping’an urged them to retire to the outer chamber to rest. Relieved, he plunged his weary feet into the scalding water and surveyed his surroundings.

The two girls sat in the outer room, heads bent close, whispering in the dialect of their native Juluzhou. Curiosity burned within them. Who was this young man that the steward held in such high regard, bestowing upon him a large and ornate waist pendant? They spoke of the wonders and customs of Dali, and of the strange and wondrous tales emerging from the Dongbao Bow Continent, which they sailed beneath, during the New Year festivities. They pondered the raiment of certain fairies who had graced the skies that year: How well did their xiapei and Qingshen Mountain Green Clothes complement their ethereal forms? And the beaded hairpins, wrought in the Dragon Palace itself, adorned their heads with pearls and precious gems, a sight of captivating beauty.

Upon the table rested a celadon basin, brimming with fresh fruits and melons, emanating a tantalizing fragrance. These delicacies, sourced from the major hills of Beijuluzhou and purchased at a princely sum, pulsed with a faint, inherent spiritual energy.

The twin maidens, each possessed of a unique charm, dared only steal glances at the bounty, never reaching out to partake without express permission.

When Chen Ping’an’s footsteps echoed, Chunshui and Qiushi instantly rose to their feet, standing respectfully, awaiting his commands. They noticed that the young man still wore his straw sandals, and even within the confines of the room, he refused to part with the sword box strapped to his back. Their eyes met, and a hint of amusement danced upon their lips, a subtle jest they dared not utter aloud.

This Kun vessel, after all, crossed the expanse of three continents, ferrying both passengers and cargo. As first-class maids of Tianzifang, the two girls had encountered many a strange and seasoned qi practitioner, and it wouldn’t surprise them if this young guest from Dali was closer to his fifth decade than his first. Such were the ways of the mountains. When venturing afar, it was prudent to tread cautiously when encountering the seemingly youthful, lest one provoke a hidden power.

Qiushi retrieved the foot basin and departed to empty its contents. Chunshui, with a gentle smile, inquired whether Chen Ping’an might wish to attend a musical performance. A fairy from Huangliang Pavilion, steeped in generations of Tajishan lineage, had been invited to play this very night. Guests of Tianzi Fang were granted free access to the private viewing chamber. Chen Ping’an, ever mindful of the demon-subduing cast by Ruan Qiong he carried upon his back, demurred, unwilling to draw unnecessary attention to himself. This reply left Chunshui visibly disappointed. Had the esteemed guest Chen Ping’an consented to attend, even as a silent observer, she and her sister Qiushi might have enjoyed the melodies of the fairies, a chance to “wash their ears” in the soothing sounds.

The Huangliang Pavilion, renowned throughout Juluzhou, was comprised primarily of female cultivators, each skilled in the arts of the guqin, chess, calligraphy, painting, and tea. Those fairies who mastered a particular craft to its utmost pinnacle earned epithets such as “bright eyes,” “clear heart,” or “clean ears.” The sound of the fairy upon the Kun vessel was said to “wash the ears” – both a testament to the pleasant and flowing music that streamed from her hands, and a literal description of its effect: the ability to cleanse the accumulated impurities and stagnation within the ear acupoints.

Chunshui and Qiushi had devoted seven years to their practice, yet their mediocre talents had only brought them to the second realm of qi cultivation, leaving them far from being considered formal disciples of the sacred mountain. Thus, even the slightest “ear washing” effect offered a precious opportunity to accrue further cultivation.

Chen Ping’an remained oblivious to these intricate benefits, or perhaps, with his cautious nature, even knowing the truth, he would still have shunned the performance. A pure martial artist, unfamiliar with the guqin and harboring a treasure close to his person, he dared not venture heedlessly into the fray.

The two girls had little to occupy them, yet they resided in a wing of this grand dwelling in the sky. And so, the three found themselves in an awkward tableau. Chen Ping’an grew envious of Wei Bo. If he were in his place, the air would be filled with laughter and chatter, not this uncomfortable silence.

In truth, Chunshui and Qiushi felt not embarrassment, but a sense of novelty. Such a young gentleman was a rarity, and their past encounters with the strange were typically those with eccentricities. There was the guest who, with a compulsive need for cleanliness, would wipe every nook and cranny himself. The dead corners were wiped with pillars and under the bed. He seemed burdened, averse to accepting aid, as though a single speck of dust would tarnish his very soul.

Then there were those who feared the darkness, and would pull forth massive, radiant orbs from within their personal spaces, placing them upon tables and beds, bathing everything in a blinding light.

And there were the wizened, desiccated old men who traveled with a collection of reeking mummies. The mummies were all women, yet they were clad in vibrant reds and greens, adorned with makeup, and moved with a semblance of life, albeit devoid of speech. The scene was profoundly unsettling, leaving the two maids terrified to close their eyes, lest they awaken to find themselves transformed into one of the undead.

Chen Ping’an felt increasingly ill at ease under their watchful gaze. Unable to practice his sword stance in front of strangers, he steeled himself to break the silence, asking in his less-than-fluent Baoping Zhou dialect, “Miss Chunshui, Qiushi, where do you hail from in Juluzhou?”

As soon as he spoke, Chen Ping’an noticed a shift in the atmosphere, a softening of the air. It seemed the two girls were naturally gifted conversationalists. From then on, it was nearly impossible to interject. He need only listen. And so, Chen Ping’an politely invited them to partake of the fruit. The girls flushed, consenting with hesitant grace. One lowered her head and ate, while the other regaled Chen Ping’an with tales of the mountain. And when she grew tired, the other stepped in, continuing the thread of conversation, so that Chen Ping’an listened with rapt attention.

It transpired that Tajiu Mountain was a local sect in Juluzhou, nestled in the southwest. Though lacking a supreme, fifth-level qi-training master at its helm for two centuries, it had nonetheless earned the title of sect, in accordance with the ancient traditions. At its peak, it was considered that the ancestors of Tajiu Mountain was truly vast. They had two gods in the upper five realms who called the wind and rain, and were famous in a continent. Though the ancestors were all the Jade Pu realm at the first level of the five realms, commonly known as the eleventh level cultivators, but no matter what, one sect and two jade Pu realms are still extremely brilliant existences.

While not considered formal disciples of the sacred mountain, they held a fierce loyalty to their heritage, regaling Chen Ping’an with tales of their ancestors. One encountered a horde of abyssal beasts during a cross-continental voyage, fighting with brilliant swordplay until they retreated, surpassing the light of the moon over the sea. Another was known for his mastery of thunder, journeying from the southwest to the northeastern border of Juluzhou, earning the moniker “Shenxiao Tianjun.” He vanquished demons and eradicated evil, and to this day, countless people in Juluzhou revered his memory, erecting tablets of merit in their homes, burning incense in his honor through generations.

Chen Ping’an found himself captivated by these tales of glory, although he was more focused on the concept of the eleventh level of the Jade Pu realm, and couldn’t help but inquire further. As the sect had passed the fifth realm, even Chunshui, the second-realm qi-trainer maid, was privy to some details. She shared her understanding, stating that the legendary Yupu Realm represented a pinnacle of qi cultivation. Returning to a state of natural perfection, the body and spirit became akin to gold and jade, impervious to water, fire, and malevolent spirits without the need for magical artifacts. Under normal circumstances, the lifespan ranges from five hundred years to thousands of years.

Therefore, the changing dynasties of the world change and the mountains and rivers change color, which is really difficult for monks in the Yupu realm to be interested in them.

As Chunshui spoke, Qiushi, after consuming a green fruit, accidentally emitted a burp, a blush creeping across her face. In an attempt to atone, Qiushi swiftly explained to Chen Ping’an, “Young Master Chen, I have heard that upon entering the five realms of the body, qi-training practitioners need no longer fear the erosion of the impure air of the mortal world. The accumulation of spiritual energy within reaches a state of equilibrium, making practice upon the mountain and practice elsewhere virtually indistinguishable. It is far more flexible and casual than the “unmoving like a mountain” of the monk at the tenth level of the Nascent Soul Realm.”

Speaking with a hint of longing, Qiu Shi continued, “All female qi-training practitioners dream of reaching this realm, for it grants the opportunity to alter or refine one’s appearance, ensuring enduring beauty. Thus, many women in the ten realms, even those with hair as white as winter snow, can regain their youth and remain eternally youthful until death.”

Chen Ping’an inquired curiously, “Why is it taboo to break the appearance of a commoner? Can the Jade Pu realm truly ensure an “unchanging” existence?”

The maid Qiushi was rendered speechless. She understood the truth, but not the reasoning behind it. How could she, a mere second-realm practitioner, comprehend the grandeur of the upper five realms?

Her sister Chunshui was more pensive, more inclined to delve into the underlying reasons. She smiled and began, “Young Master Chen, I cannot claim to know the absolute truth, but I have a few thoughts, for your consideration only. It is a secular mortal, and it has become a womb since the womb. The face of “fixed style” does involve a person’s popularity, so it is not without reason that ordinary people in the secular world are taboo to distort the appearance. However, after entering the middle five realms, the destruction of the appearance of the Qi-cultivator is actually not easy to appear. As for why the Yupu Realm can change the face without destroying the qi number and numerology, I think it is…”

Chunshui extended her hands, miming the construction of a house upon the table. “A cultivator such as Qiushi and myself, our practice is akin to building a house. A single pillar or two, and all begins. To “destroy the appearance” would be like breaking a beam or column, causing the entire structure to collapse.”

Then, with a sweeping gesture, Chunshui continued, “But the gods and immortals of the middle and upper five realms have built a house so sturdy, so complex, that it is a palace upon the earth. Therefore, even if one beam were to break, it would have little impact. The change of appearance for a female qi-training cultivator in the Yupu realm is like renovating the façade of the building, or laying a new layer of glazed tiles upon the roof, making it even more beautiful. Do you understand my meaning, Master Chen?”

Chen Ping’an nodded, “It makes sense.”

Chunshui blushed slightly, “These are merely my own speculations, please forgive me if they are found wanting.”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “I think it makes sense.”

Qiu Shi blinked her eyes and sighed, “Alas, I have never laid eyes upon an old god of the Yupu realm, not even from afar.”

Chunshui’s gaze deepened, “Better not to gaze upon such things. When the gods of the upper five realms clash, those of the middle five realms fare little better than commoners.”

Qiushi pouted, “It would be good to see, even from a distance.”

Chunshui said helplessly, “Our eyes are weak; how could we withstand the power of the magic weapons of the immortals in the fifth realm? One careless glance, and we would vanish without a trace.”

Chen Ping’an did not interject. Each held their own desires and longings, and as acquaintances, it was not his place to interfere.

Suddenly, a shout rang out from the bow of the Kun vessel, as a figure pointed west with a gaping mouth. “Look! Look!” he yelled. After recollecting himself, he called out to his companions and shouted hard, “Look, look!”

A tear, the dimensions of which were beyond comprehension, had been rent in the tapestry of the very heavens. Something plummeted through, as though struck by a fist from the sky.

Though its speed defied the reach of the finest magical artifacts, the sheer altitude from which it fell ensured that all who chanced to gaze upon the sky would witness this stunning spectacle.

Like a comet dragging a long, brilliant tail, it rushed towards the earth.

The entire Kun vessel buzzed with excitement, and Qiushi rushed back to the dwelling, excitedly urging Chen Ping’an to accompany them to the viewing deck that Tianzifang had set up, lest he miss the sight. Chen Ping’an followed Chunshui and Qiushi through the study, pushing open the door to the outer deck, and indeed, saw the dazzling, falling meteor in the far west.

From the point where the sky was torn, a voice boomed forth with resounding clarity, echoing across the world for all qi-trainers to hear. “Aliang? How about this punch?!”

Haoran was forced to heed these words, whether it willed it or not.

It was a declaration of raw power.

At this moment, countless qi-training practitioners, demons, ghosts, and land spirits craned their necks westward, awestruck by the “I” Taoism” of this high Taoism’s power, and the force of that punch.

Chen Ping’an could only gape in astonishment.

What, Aliang, have you beat someone up?

The meteor carved a vast crater into the earth of a western continent before rebounding skyward. The force of the punch propelled it to a height rivaling the Dayue of the Central Earth God Island. At the height of Suishan Mountain, the figure hovered at the apex of the sky, as if searching for direction, before flashing away, invisible to almost all. Only a select few had the capacity to track the figure, and even they were surprised by this and were too lazy to care about it. At most, they are silently deducing the variables of the secrets.

A youth bearing two swords upon his back murmured, “That punch was… fierce.”

Suddenly, someone cuffed the boy behind the head, snarling, “That’s hard!”