The Dajiao Mountain sect seemed to employ a technique akin to stone rubbing, meticulously preserving the scenes from the long scroll of flowers and birds. They peeled off layers of thin, gauze-like white paper, ten in total, before commencing a public sale.

The shipmaster specifically called upon the Chunshui and Qiushi sisters to present themselves, assisting Dajiao Mountain in calling out bids.

Chen Ping’an initially thought nothing of it. However, he inadvertently saw Qiushi standing there, each sister holding one end of the scroll. Chunshui possessed an air of refined grace, utterly impeccable, adeptly announcing and bidding. Qiushi, ever carefree, stared directly at Chen Ping’an. Upon catching his gaze, she was filled with contentment, subtly raising her chin, revealing a proud expression.

It seemed as though, only at this moment, did Qiushi feel she was on equal footing with Chen Ping’an?

Chen Ping’an couldn’t quite comprehend the maiden’s thoughts, so he focused his attention on the white paper rubbings. With each successive rubbing, the spiritual energy diminished, and the depicted scenes became increasingly blurred. The final sheet, in particular, could only be viewed once, and its price reflected this, a mere thirty snowflakes worth of jade coins.

The ancient jade used to manufacture these coins was known as snowflake jade, a specialty of the Northern Vast Continent. It was primarily found in two blessed grotto-heavens. When these “copper coins,” prevalent on the mountains, were held up to the sun, they reflected a crystalline light, like swirling snowflakes. They were also known as Lesser Snow Coins, with the characters “Auspicious Harvest” engraved on the front and “Lesser Snow Territory” inscribed on the back.

Due to the vast quantity of snowflake jade and its considerable spiritual energy, snowflake coins gradually became the universally accepted currency of the Nine Continents. They were widely circulated and a necessity for low-level and mid-level cultivators venturing out. Snowflake coins could invariably be exchanged for gold and silver, but gold and silver couldn’t always be converted into snowflake coins.

The reasoning was simple: the wealthy officials and powerful factions down the mountain, who made offerings to the mountain deities, couldn’t possibly send cartloads of silver. It was both inconvenient and too conspicuous. Presenting a box of snowflake coins, however, was far more refined. If the box itself was exquisite, crafted from spiritually infused wood, it was even more elegant.

Chen Ping’an gritted his teeth and purchased the last white paper painting for thirty snowflake coins. Because it was the last one, the Dajiao Mountain shipmaster personally handed it over to Chen Ping’an. Qiushi lacked her sister Chunshui’s composure and didn’t exhibit much reverence for the shipmaster, chirping around him like a little oriole flitting about a branch.

Fortunately, the shipmaster had watched the sisters grow up. Moreover, Qiushi’s talent surpassed Chunshui’s, and she had a chance of ascending into the mid-five realms. Therefore, the Dajiao Mountain shipmaster displayed considerable patience towards Qiushi. This was a long-term investment, as those making a living on the mountain had to consider the future. They couldn’t just focus on what was on the table or in the pot; they might even have to look to the fields.

After the exchange was complete, the shipmaster playfully teased Qiushi, grabbing a fire pear from the fruit plate beside the sandalwood chair and handing it to the maid. Then, he strode away. Chen Ping’an was confused, but he received a fierce glare from Qiushi. Apparently, that fire pear was Qiushi’s commission for helping Dajiao Mountain sell a painting. However, after glaring, Qiushi smiled to herself, raising the fire pear in her hand and waving it at her sister, brimming with pride.

Life is impermanent, gatherings and separations are inevitable.

After the conclusion of the battle between Thunderclap Garden and Orthodox Yang Mountain, Chen Ping’an parted ways with the outer mountain Taoist from Dragon Tiger Mountain and returned to the Heavenly Number Two cabin with Chunshui and Qiushi. They spent their days together. However, when the Kun vessel slowly landed above a ferry in the territory of the Southern Stream Kingdom, it became a chance reunion between Chen Ping’an and the Taoist Zhang Shan. Together, they chose to disembark here, waving farewell to the Chunshui and Qiushi sisters, forever separated by vast distances.

The Southern Stream Kingdom’s ferry was built on a large lake bordering the ancient Elm Kingdom.

Compared to the newly established Wutong Mountain of Great Li Dragon Spring, this ferry was much larger, capable of simultaneously docking five Dajiao Mountain Kun vessels.

The separation from Chunshui and Qiushi wasn’t filled with heartfelt farewells. During that time, Chen Ping’an shamelessly asked Dajiao Mountain for a lot of melons and fruits, benefiting the two maidens. Dajiao Mountain later began to grumble about the Great Li youth, calling him a shallow and unworldly bumpkin who liked to take advantage of others. Even if Chen Ping’an knew, he certainly wouldn’t care. On the contrary, Qiushi was unhappy upon hearing those sarcastic remarks, becoming sullen. Eventually, Chunshui took over the task of requesting melons and fruits from the Kun vessel’s kitchen.

When Chen Ping’an disembarked, he carried quite a few melon rinds and fruit pits.

Because there weren’t many people disembarking in the Southern Stream Kingdom, Chen Ping’an and the peachwood sword Taoist immediately ran into each other and decided to travel together.

Near the railing at the bow of the ship, Qiushi snorted, “Sister, look at that guy. He didn’t show even a hint of sadness at parting when he disembarked. Maybe he’s already thinking about the exciting world down the mountain.”

Chunshui said helplessly, “Young Master Chen isn’t even interested in the Apricot Blossom Pavilion, so how could he have ideas about brothels? You know that many worldly generals, ministers, nobles, and young masters are still regulars at the Apricot Blossom Pavilion when they are aboard the Kun vessel. After all, many of the women in the pavilion who cater to them are considered goddesses and immortals in the mortal realm. After getting drunk, those men reveal their ugly sides one by one. Alas, if all the men down the mountain were like Young Master Chen, that would be wonderful.”

Qiushi was somewhat unconvinced. “That’s because Chen Ping’an is still young. He’ll become one of those foul and corrupted things in the future. Maybe the next time he boards the ship, Chen Ping’an will be full of flattery and try to get his hands on us.”

Chunshui narrowed her eyes and glanced at the embroidered pouch on her sister’s waist. “Do you really think so?”

Qiushi abruptly turned her head, pretending to ignore the scene on the lake.

Chunshui looked over and realized that Chen Ping’an was clasping his hands in farewell to them, a gesture that was very Jianghu-like, befitting a diligent and pure martial artist.

Chunshui quickly raised her arm and waved.

Only after Chen Ping’an turned and left did Qiushi turn her head, her pretty face pouting. Chunshui teased, “Why are you making things difficult for yourself? Saying a polite goodbye from such a distance won’t cost you a few ounces of flesh.”

Qiushi glanced sideways at her sister’s chest, suppressing a smile. “Sister, you don’t have to worry about losing a few ounces of flesh; you have a thick foundation anyway. I can’t afford to.”

The two sisters started playfully bickering.

In youth, one always believes that farewell is the beginning of the next reunion.
Having struck up a conversation with the Daoist Zhang Shan, Chen Ping’an learned that they were both heading south. Chen Ping’an’s reason was rather baffling; Lu Chen and Old Man Yang insisted he disembark at South Torrent Nation, not daring to take the easy route and go to a ferry near Old Dragon City. As for the peach-wood sword Daoist, he was famished and freezing, unable to afford the ferry ticket. If he didn’t disembark soon, he’d probably have to work as a deckhand to earn a meal.

Finding each other agreeable, they decided to travel south together, setting aside the matter of when they might part ways.

The ferry landing where they disembarked was located on the southern border of South Torrent Nation and the northern border of Ancient Elm Nation. Daoist Zhang Shan, possessing some fluency in the common language of Treasure Bottle洲 (zhou), explained the local customs of Ancient Elm Nation to Chen Ping’an. The Emperor of Ancient Elm Nation was of the Chu family, and the origin of the nation’s name had a story: In ancient times, there was a goddess in charge of heralding the arrival of spring, also governing the flourishing and withering of all plants. However, within the territory of Ancient Elm Nation, there was a great tree that turned green in autumn and yellow in spring, always a beat behind, which infuriated the goddess. She then decreed that this tree would be naturally slow-witted and extremely difficult to become a spirit. This is the origin of the saying “榆木疙瘩” (yú mù gē da – blockhead).

Daoist Zhang Shan was a third-realm Qi cultivator, his cultivation not yet stable. However, traversing mountains and rivers was something that Daoists within the Dragon Tiger Mountain lineage, whether registered or not, were very familiar with.

Before entering the mountain, the young Daoist, carrying a peach-wood sword, took out a copper bell from his bundle and tied it to the end of the sword. He explained to Chen Ping’an, “This is a ‘listening demon bell,’ very popular within Daoist sects, similar to the ‘Baize Diagram’ that nearly every Qi cultivator possesses. This string of bells is of the lowest quality, only considered an introductory demon-subduing tool. After injecting spiritual energy, it can only sense mountain demons one realm higher than me within a few hours. I’m only at the third realm, which means I won’t be able to detect great demons of the fifth realm.”

Chen Ping’an hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Who reveals the extent of their cultivation so soon after meeting someone?

And what was this about “great demons of the fifth realm”?

Chen Ping’an wasn’t sure if he and this Dragon Tiger Mountain disciple were in the same world, the same Jianghu (martial arts world). His two little servants, the green-robed boy and the pink-skirted girl, were both fifth-realm Qi cultivators. In his hometown, the green-robed boy was always clamoring to avoid being killed in one punch!

Despite his confusion, Chen Ping’an’s impression of the young Daoist improved slightly.

The young Daoist didn’t notice Chen Ping’an’s confusion and continued to reassure “Young Master Chen,” “But don’t worry, Young Master Chen. We have a saying on the mountain that within a thousand *li* of any righteous sect’s territory, there are no great demons causing trouble. The reason is simple: the great demons don’t have the guts to wreak havoc on humans. Once the middle-fifth realm immortals find out, they might be executed that very day, right?”

Chen Ping’an nodded and smiled in agreement.

Scholars entering the mountains to seek immortals has always been a prominent theme in the writings of past literati. Immortals disguised, playing in the mortal realm, teasing the world, was also a common trope.

The mountain and the outside world were inextricably linked.

Chen Ping’an only learned after boarding the ship that places like Dragon Spring, within the three continents including Treasure Bottle洲 (zhou), were few and far between. Many ordinary people, toiling all their lives, never even saw a so-called mountain immortal.

Daoist Zhang Shan was a genuine and kind-hearted person. After chatting for a while, he learned that Chen Ping’an was traveling without even a “Baize Diagram” and insisted on giving his to Chen Ping’an, saying that the scroll only cost two or three *xiaoxue* coins and, like the demon-listening bell, was the most basic, cheap item, made by a private workshop, crude and carelessly printed, even an embarrassment as a gift. Since Chen Ping’an urgently needed one for emergencies, he could use it for now, as Zhang Shan had already memorized it.

Was this what they called a benevolent child meeting a generous one?

Chen Ping’an didn’t want to accept it for free, so he reached into his sleeve, concealing his actions, and used his “inch-square item fifteen” ability to take out two *xiaoxue* coins and give them to Daoist Zhang Shan. The latter hesitated before only accepting one of the old coins, saying it was overpriced. In fact, after encountering the woman in a wedding dress ghost, the blind Daoist had given him a family-inherited “Mountain Searching Diagram,” which was hundreds or thousands of times better than Zhang Shan’s “Baize Diagram,” but Chen Ping’an had given it to Lin Shouyi. Still, Chen Ping’an enjoyed flipping through the “Baize Diagram” while climbing the mountain, especially the images of some monsters and ghosts that weren’t recorded in the “Mountain Searching Diagram,” which made Chen Ping’an feel like he had gained a lot.

When it came to entering the mountains, Daoist Zhang Shan probably wouldn’t be as capable even after ten more years of trekking than the peasant Chen Ping’an.

So Chen Ping’an walked with a leisurely gait, while the peach-wood sword Daoist, while not panting, wasn’t exactly relaxed.

Chen Ping’an wasn’t as cautious as he was on the Kun ship, constantly making deliberate footsteps. Firstly, Chen Ping’an understood a principle after practicing boxing in the bamboo building: the heartstrings needed to be relaxed. Secondly, the Kun ship sailing in the sea of clouds was vastly different from the lands and rivers below. Chen Ping’an didn’t need to be too careful. Even an ordinary third-realm martial artist, traveling alone through a nation’s territory, wouldn’t face much threat. Finally, the most important reason was that Chen Ping’an trusted Daoist Zhang Shan. He had great faith in this feeling of immediate connection, just like when he saw Mr. Qi outside the school and Li Xi Sheng standing at the entrance of the Li family.

Chen Ping’an trusted his intuition.

As they traveled together, crossing mountains and wading through water, two weeks quickly passed. The journey was smooth, without any setbacks. Chen Ping’an and the young Daoist became even closer. Chen Ping’an would practice the Six Steps Walking Stance without reservation, and during breaks, he would practice the Sword Furnace technique. Daoist Zhang Shan practiced the Five Thunder Method. Because of Lin Shouyi and the blind Daoist, Chen Ping’an was familiar with it. Zhang Shan often struck strange poses, standing on one leg like a golden rooster, using his fist to heavily strike a certain *qifu* point on his abdomen, making rhythmic whistling sounds, or bending his elbow, pressing his fingers against the meridians of his neck, with the other hand forming a sword with two fingers, closing his mouth tightly, his abdomen rumbling like thunder, emitting muffled “yi yu” sounds.

This was the first time Chen Ping’an had encountered someone so diligent in their cultivation, no less than his own boxing practice.

This was probably the key to why they could continue traveling south together.

Both could endure hardship and find enjoyment in it.
As night occasionally descended, the two would seek out shelter from the wind and rain, be it an ancient temple or a mountain cave. They would light a bonfire, and the young Daoist would tell Chen Ping’an about the prowess of the sword cultivators of Ju-lu Continent, and how Daoists there were often looked down upon. The same magical artifact or spiritual instrument that a sword cultivator could buy for ten Snow Coins might cost a Daoist double that amount. It was only when speaking of this that the usually mild-tempered young Daoist, Zhang Shan, would reveal a rare flash of indignation, vowing that if he ever had the chance, he would change those rules.

Having confirmed that Chen Ping’an was a martial artist, the young Daoist was filled with perplexity. If cultivating Qi and seeking immortality was the biggest money pit in the world, then practicing martial arts was undoubtedly second, equally devouring countless gold and silver. Ever since descending the mountain, Zhang Shan hadn’t had a single comfortable day. Any meager gains he made were carefully weighed before being exchanged for talismans that could protect him, or one or two magical implements best suited for subduing demons and exorcising evil. A simple Divine Speed Talisman, which could help the young Daoist quickly escape the battlefield and travel several miles away in dangerous encounters with powerful demons, would cost Zhang Shan thirty Snow Coins. One Snow Coin was worth at least a hundred taels of silver, meaning Zhang Shan had to earn at least three thousand taels of silver in the mortal world to buy a single Divine Speed Talisman.

However, with his Third Realm cultivation, the young Daoist had journeyed south from Ju-lu Continent, where sword cultivators and sword masters were as numerous as hairs on a cow, relying on clumsy attempts to subdue demons and exorcise evil. The demons he subdued were mostly mischievous sprites, and the evil spirits he exorcised were mostly mindless ghosts from desolate tombs. Earning money was extremely difficult. Sometimes, if he encountered a formidable Second Realm demon, the young Daoist might even have to spend some of his own savings. The real money came from water and land rituals and weddings and funerals, especially consecration ceremonies that required a large number of Daoists, which were the fastest and easiest way to make money. Unfortunately, such good fortune was rare.

So, when Zhang Shan heard that the Treasure Bottle Continent revered Daoism and didn’t look down on Daoists as much as Ju-lu Continent, he decided to travel south across the continent to see if he could find some opportunities. However, he almost starved to death shortly after boarding the ship, filling the young Daoist’s heart with dark clouds about his trip to the Treasure Bottle Continent.

The Gu-yu Kingdom was not large, and the two quickly crossed the border into the territory of the Colorful Clothes Kingdom. They were traveling at night when they suddenly encountered a torrential downpour. Strangely, after entering a remote mountain range, they walked for several miles without finding a suitable place to take shelter. The terrain was rugged, with many exposed rocky cliffs. Even the occasional large trees on the mountain were mostly dead, and those that had some greenery were far from lush. The bean-sized raindrops pounded on them relentlessly, making their heads ache. Chen Ping’an, having tempered his body to a near-abnormal degree in the Bamboo Lodge of Fallen Phoenix Mountain, remained unfazed, but Daoist Zhang Shan, who had only recently entered the Third Realm, was not as physically resilient, and his foundation was not strong. The young Daoist’s face turned pale and his lips turned blue. Chen Ping’an knew that if they continued, Zhang Shan might survive the rainy night, but would likely fall ill tomorrow.

Chen Ping’an stopped and patted Zhang Shan’s shoulder, telling him loudly to stay put and try to maintain a steady breath. He would speed up and look for a way out, and would definitely return to find him within the time it takes to burn an incense stick. Zhang Shan was stunned, the torrential rain making him dizzy. His lips moved slightly, his voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz. Chen Ping’an couldn’t hear what he was saying in the heavy rain, but seeing Zhang Shan’s increasingly weak state, he couldn’t let him continue to be pounded by the rain. Without hesitation, Chen Ping’an gave him a smile, turned, and quickly moved forward.

The young Daoist sat cross-legged, trying his best to resist the biting cold.

The lower five realms of Qi cultivation were known as the Five Realms of Mountain Climbing, drawing on the Heaven and Earth spiritual Qi outside the human body to fortify and temper the human body’s skin, flesh, tendons, bones, and blood. The First and Second Realms were the Bronze Skin Realm and the Grass Root Realm, which could make a cultivator’s skin tough and their blood vigorous. Logically speaking, a mere downpour, no matter how heavy, shouldn’t be a problem for a young Daoist in the Third Realm, Willow Tendon Realm, who could use Qi to temper his tendons and bones. However, this disciple of the Outer Sect of the Dragon Tiger Mountain, who carried a peach wood sword, followed the path of Daoist talisman magic, placing more emphasis on external objects such as Divine Speed Talismans and peach wood swords. The effect of tempering his physical body was not outstanding. Moreover, this spring rain was too sudden and “gloomy,” causing the young Daoist’s True Qi to be consumed extremely quickly without him realizing it.

The young Daoist’s vision blurred as he hesitated whether to take off his backpack and take out a Qi-replenishing pill from the porcelain bottle. However, a pill called “Returning Yang,” even of the lowest quality, was worth a Snow Coin. The young Daoist couldn’t bear to part with it, so he gritted his teeth and persevered, hoping that the young martial artist would return soon and successfully find a place to shelter from the rain.

When one reached the mountains, one had to endure the hardships of the mountains.

The demons of Dragon Spring Town were an example of this. The common people were completely unaware, but the sound of Ruan Qiong’s forging would bring them to a state of ecstasy and death.

Chen Ping’an, having quickly traveled half a mile, no longer concealed his Third Realm cultivation and rushed forward at full speed.

When he saw a large tree ahead with only withered branches, he took a few steps and stepped on the trunk, leaping upwards. He grabbed a decaying branch, pulled it gently, and his body floated up. The branch broke and fell to the ground, but Chen Ping’an had already gone a step further, standing at the top of the tree, shielding his forehead with his hand and looking into the distance. He saw no lights, but at the end of his vision was a small, low hilltop. Chen Ping’an leaped lightly, kicked the tree trunk with his feet, and flew away. The large tree behind him crashed to the ground.

His body tilting downward, Chen Ping’an landed like an arrow, reaching out and slapping the muddy ground. His whole body somersaulted forward in mid-air. As his feet landed, he touched the ground with his toes and rushed forward, lithe and agile. He quickly arrived at the small hilltop, but there were no lights, which made Chen Ping’an feel a little troubled. If necessary, he would have to chop down trees on the way back and build a crude tent. However, judging from Zhang Shan’s expression and complexion, even if he hid in the tent, he would still likely be invaded by wind and cold, catch a chill, and fall ill if he couldn’t light a bonfire.
Chen Pingan was, in truth, somewhat perplexed. This expansive range of low, undulating mountains exuded an undeniably peculiar aura. He had traversed a fair share of landscapes, yet never encountered a place so saturated with a sense of withering decay. Such desolation would be fitting for a graveyard teeming with eerie Yin energy, but how could even a heavy rain feel colder here than elsewhere?

Just as Chen Pingan was about to turn back and seek out the young Daoist, he suddenly discerned a glimmer of light in the far distance, moving slowly northward. The light flickered within the rain, like a tiny boat tossed about in a tempestuous sea, on the verge of capsizing and being extinguished. Chen Pingan contemplated this, memorized the direction of the light, and swiftly retraced his steps. He found the tottering young Daoist, helped him up, and said, “There are others traveling in the night ahead. Let’s see if we can join them. If they’re locals, they might know of a place to take shelter from the rain.”

The young Daoist’s spirit rallied. Without a word, Chen Pingan hoisted him onto his back and darted forward.

Chen Pingan, carrying the locust-wood sword case and a young Daoist bearing a peach-wood sword, sprinted through the rain-soaked night, scaling mountains and crossing ridges as if on level ground.

As the young Daoist grew increasingly drowsy, the glimmer of light grew brighter.

Chen Pingan slowed his pace slightly, raising his head to observe the scene ahead. Even in the pouring rain, he could make out two figures traveling together: two young men in the attire of scholars, carrying book chests, one holding a large umbrella, the other a torch. Though as bedraggled as Chen Pingan and his companion, the two Confucian scholars wore smiles, seemingly conversing about something. They did not seem to regard the wind and rain as a hardship, but rather as a fortunate, joyful occurrence.

Neither of the two seemed to notice Chen Pingan’s quiet approach.

This brought Chen Pingan a measure of relief. In the wilderness on a stormy night, strange occurrences were often the prelude to misfortune. If he were to encounter trouble, and be unable to abandon the Daoist on his back, it would undoubtedly be a fierce struggle.

Chen Pingan, keeping a safe distance, called out in the refined language of Bao Ping Continent.

The two scholars did not hear him and continued onward.

Chen Pingan breathed another sigh of relief. Even if they were Qi refiners or mountain demons, their cultivation should not be too high, assuming they weren’t deliberately concealing their power.

It wasn’t until Chen Pingan was a mere dozen steps away that the two Confucian youths finally noticed him.

They quickly halted and waved Chen Pingan over. After a brief exchange, noting the young Daoist’s deathly pale complexion, one of the scholars, hailing from the Colored Clothes Kingdom, pointed in a direction and consoled, “I have always loved to travel and explore, often venturing far afield with only my books for company. I recall that about three or four *li* from here, there is a secluded residence. It is likely the home of a hermit. My companion, Liu, and I were heading there ourselves. Perhaps you would like to join us?”

The other scholar, the one holding the umbrella, wryly smiled, “We were originally planning to camp on a hillside a mere *li* away, but never imagined we would encounter such a torrential downpour. If it weren’t for Brother Chu knowing the way, we would be completely stranded.”

Chen Pingan quickly expressed his gratitude.

The two newly met scholars, one held the umbrella over the young Daoist, shielding him from the rain while he himself got soaked, shivering from the cold.

The scholar who had been holding the torch looked dejected, for without the protection of the umbrella, even though the torch used oil of a superior quality, it was extinguished by the deluge. Loath to discard it, he cradled it in his arms.

The scholars had to rely on the flashes of lightning to guide their way, navigating with the aid of their memory.

And indeed, they found a residence.

It resembled the prosperous household of a city or county, with stone lions guarding the gate, but these were small and lacked grandeur. Strangely, there were no spring couplets or door gods displayed.

At least, they had found an eave beneath which to catch their breath and shelter from the rain.

The scholar who had been holding the umbrella hastily knocked on the door, setting aside any concerns about propriety.

After a long while, the gate creaked open, just as a bolt of lightning illuminated the night, revealing a withered and ghastly old face.

The scholar stumbled back in fright, nearly falling.

The sudden appearance of the old crone’s face, illuminated by the lightning in the pouring rain, startled not only the timid scholar, but even Chen Pingan, who had seen his share of mythical creatures.

All felt that the interior of the residence might not be any safer or warmer than the windy, rainy world outside.

And Zhang Shan, the Daoist most adept at vanquishing demons and exorcising spirits, had unchivalrously fallen into a deep slumber.