The dust had barely settled from Chen Ping’an’s return to the gallery, and already Zhang Shanfeng was absent. The burly, bearded man, a connoisseur of jest, claimed the Taoist priest had encountered a fair maiden and embarked on a nocturnal sojourn. Liu Gaohua, ever the boisterous companion, echoed the sentiment. Chen Ping’an dismissed it, but a strange unease settled upon him as he regarded the face of the Magistrate’s son. Could such a coincidence truly exist? He hesitated, then asked, “Tell me, Liu Gaohua, do you have any… married sisters?”

Liu Gaohua looked perplexed. “Married? Gods, no! Each sister, I have no wife! They’re all unmarried and freeloading at home. My father laments daily that we’re a gaggle of sots, draining his coffers. The constant harping on dowries and betrothal gifts has kept him from buying a new desk for years!”

A sigh of relief escaped Chen Ping’an’s lips. Better unmarried than to have to face the delicate dance of words should he encounter a woman bearing such a resemblance to Liu Gaohua’s kin.

The performance soon concluded, met with thunderous applause. Jung Jung-gu and General Ma, mindful of their station, descended from the pavilion to question the “Old Gods” on the stage. The Old Gods, wise and measured in their responses, pleased the officials greatly, leaving them feeling refreshed as a spring breeze. A young man, clearly of noble birth and yearning for enlightenment, attempted to learn from the Old Gods, but was swiftly dragged away by his family’s servants.

Taoist Zhang Shanfeng returned some paces after Chen Ping’an. Seeing the young man seated peacefully, he relaxed. “I feared you’d fallen into some unseen pit!” he jested.

Chen Ping’an, unwilling to reveal the events of the narrow street, merely whispered, “No pit found. I hesitated to bother the house manager, seeking instead a secluded spot. But after much searching, I returned to find the gallery swarming. I was loath to squeeze through the throng, and lingered outside a while.”

The bearded man’s eyes narrowed with mock suspicion. “You sought darkness, but saw no… spectacles? Let me tell you, in this land of Colorful Clothing, especially in Rouge County, scholars and beauties abound. When bored, they crave spectacle, even of the… vulgar sort. Read too much of those flowery tales, and one begins to expect life to follow the pages…”

At this, Liu Gaohua burst into laughter, nodding vigorously. “Just like my youngest sister! Barely thirteen summers, she’s devoured a few racy novels. Not even love stories, mind you, but tales of adventure! She dreams of becoming a wandering knight, lamenting that all the men of Rouge County are timid as girls! She’s learning the tricks of escaping the embroidery room, building ladders, and scaling walls – all from books! Fortunately, my mother is sharper than she is, and her plots always come to naught.”

The bearded man’s eyes gleamed. He clapped his chest and boomed, “A yearning for adventure is a fine thing! Master Xu pretends to be overflowing with the world, and he just takes out one or two stories. They are the best food in the world!”

Liu Gaohua rolled his eyes. “Now, now, my sister is still but a child. You, Xu Daxia, why does the relationship between brothers and brothers belong to their friendship, and they only talk in the world? Besides, become my brother-in-law? Wouldn’t that be a step down?”

The bearded man chuckled. “So, you have *more* than one sister?”

Liu Gaohua fell silent, a strange reticence clouding his face.

Chen Ping’an opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself.

The bearded man laughed, slapping Liu Gaohua on the shoulder. “See? He’s frightened! I, Xu, have roamed the world for years, and can count my true friends on my fingers. I have no interest in any woman locked in an embroidered room!”

The banquet concluded, and the crowd dispersed. The three returned to their inn. Liu Gaohua was summoned by his father for social engagements. Though the son was lacking in artistic talent and lacking skills, he was the only heir. The Magistrate still hoped his son would not be completely useless and would perhaps manage to keep the family business afloat.

On their way back, Chen Ping’an inquired of Xu Yuanxia and Zhang Shanfeng regarding magical implements, recalling his earlier encounters.

The blame lay with those he had previously met. That Aliang, with his casually dismissive wave at the bamboo knife at his waist, and young Cui Feng, who spoke so grandly of realms and treasures. His tone was so lofty, as if he was in the fifth realm and above! Then there was the old barefoot man in the bamboo hut, who proclaimed that relying on external objects was a fool’s errand. “Better to stay home and till the fields!”

Chen Ping’an had been left in a state of utter bewilderment.

Fortunately, with Xu Yuanxia and Zhang Shanfeng’s explanations, he began to understand the hierarchy of “magic weapons.” It was, indeed, a rigid system, no less stratified than the officialdom itself. “Magic Weapon” was a catch-all term. The lowest objects were *Craftsman-Grade* items, mere well-made things. Whispers of “hair-splitting sharpness” often described weapons of this category. These were often trinkets gifted to novice disciples by mountain sects, like Zhang Shanfeng’s peach wood sword.

Of course, a peach wood sword gifted by the Celestial Masters of Longhu Mountain would be a far different beast.

Above these were *Heavy Weapons*. Most magical and potent weapons employed by martial masters fell into this category, forged from rare materials. These were treasures for Qi-cultivators, especially those wandering the wilderness without master or lineage. A pure martial artist, a layman, might consider himself blessed to possess one or two such items. Zhang Shanfeng himself dreamed of wielding a *Heavy Weapon*, a sword suited to his hand.

The bearded man’s sword was considered among the best *Heavy Weapons*.

Next came the true “Magic Weapons”: *Spiritual Weapons* and *Dharma Weapons*. *Spiritual Weapons* were further divided into innate and acquired. Both were exceedingly rare, touched by the grace of heaven and earth, imbued with potent spiritual energy, allowing their wielders to achieve far more with far less effort. In dire straits, they could even feed back to their master, though at the cost of their foundation. A Snowflake Coin, theoretically, could be classified thus. However, the energy contained within was negligible. Only a fool would attempt to use Snowflake Coins to enhance their cultivation.

Acquired *Spiritual Weapons* could include high-quality yellow paper talismans, or magical objects crafted by Qi-cultivators. The jade pendant owned by Fu Nanhua, the young lord of Laolong City, called “Old Dragon Commands the Rain”, was a first-rate *Spiritual Weapon*, priceless. The “Mountain Mandrill Pot” he acquired from Song Jixin was even more precious.

Compared to the “Old Dragon Commands the Rain Pendant” and the “Mountain Mandrill Pot”, the demon-binding ropes, demon-suppressing woods, and ghost-killing bamboo whips carried by the Qi cultivators of the Shengao Sect, even though they were also acquired spiritual weapons, were worlds different.

Above the Spiritual Weapon, there was the *Dharma Weapon*.

*Dharma* was a word of great import.

Otherwise, there would be no talk of Taoism, Buddhism and Buddhism.

Magic tools contain the invisible rules of the great way of heaven and earth.

The sword-raising gourd, especially crafted for nurturing flying swords, held a place of honor. Of course, the silver sword-raising gourd that Aliang took from the Wei and Jin Dynasties, as well as the gourd hanging around Su Jia’s waist in Zhengyang Mountain, was the nobleman of the sword-raising gourd. It is said that it was planted by Daozu himself before ascending to the ascension of the Taoist ancestor A string of gourd vines, the six gourds produced were then made into six sword-raising containers by experts on the top of the mountain. Naturally, it is not comparable to ordinary sword-raising gourds.

Above the Dharma Weapon stood the *Immortal Weapon*.

The top ten Qi-cultivators in all the land might never lay eyes on an *Immortal Weapon* in their lives. Even sects famed for their immortals might not possess one atop their mountains. The leader of the Shengao Sect, He Who Holds the Great Ears, successfully broke through the realm this time and became the Heavenly Lord, and was given an immortal weapon by the upper sect of the Central Earth Divine Continent.

The sword immortal Cao Xi of Nanposazhou, the natal flying sword tied to his wrist, was a huge opportunity for him to refine it with a river of water. It can be regarded as a semi-immortal soldier. This is what makes Cao Xi most afraid of.

However, the greatest *Immortal Weapons* were legendary, possessed by figures of unparalleled renown, like the Tianshi Seal and the Immortal Sword of the Tianshi Mansion of Longhu Mountain. Yingyin When the Chen ancestor traveled around the world when he was young, he accidentally obtained a small bronze tripod. It is said that it was an imitation of the mountain and river tripod hanging by an ancient sage.

Amongst the rarest *Immortal Weapons* were those that had, through long years of accumulation, nurtured a “God” – a being of self-consciousness.

This “God” was no mere righteous spirit, ordained by some secular court. Their power eclipsed even the “immortal golden body” of such figures.

Chen Ping’an took stock.

Even without the Five Mountains, he was rich indeed!

His current wealth was plentiful!

The porcelain bowl and ebony he’d simply found by the roadside tonight.

The locust-wood sword, “Demonbane.”

The snake gallstone which Lu Chen gave to He Xiaoliang, even if ignoring the love of the dragon in the world, it must be the best spiritual material.

The three-way seals left by Mr. Qi are all carved from the best snake gall stone seals.

The small wind and snow cone pen presented by Li Xisheng, as well as a large stack of precious talisman papers.

The sword-raising gourd that he wore around his waist, a treasure craved by most fifth-realm sword cultivators.

Two flying swords that temporarily recognized him as his master, the first and fifteenth day of the lunar calendar.

As Chen Ping’an strode back to his room, a newfound lightness filled him, a feeling of being untouchable. He didn’t see anyone in the green clad boy on the road.

Although it is not yet possible to determine

Drink and drink!

The sword-raising gourd was empty, and Chen Ping’an sought the price of wine from the innkeeper. When he heard that the cheapest Rouge County brew was eight cents of silver per pound and that the inn’s signature Rouge Wine was ten taels per pound, and no bargaining allowed! Chen Ping’an’s gourd could hold at least ten pounds of wine. That was a hundred taels worth of the most expensive Rouge wine! What was that compared to the mountains of gold and silver he bore within him?

Chen Ping’an decisively ordered ten pounds of the local firewater.

They had only just returned to their rooms when Liu Gaohua, accompanied by a young couple, again knocked at Zhang Shanfeng’s door. The son of the magistrate was visibly embarrassed, while the woman bore a striking resemblance to Liu Gaohua, likely his sister. Zhang Shanfeng learned they sought a remedy for Liu Senior’s fall. The old man, in his haste to see the Old Gods, had tripped in the darkness and struck his head, leaving him dizzy and confused. The county pharmacy was already closed, and his sister fretted. She’d heard her brother had befriended martial heroes and mountain ascetics and would do anything to help him.

Taoist Zhang Shanfeng led them to Xu Yuanxia’s room. The bearded man, ever agreeable, examined the scholar and declared it a minor matter. Noticing the woman’s worry, he pulled a cooling balm from his satchel, assuring her it would ease the pain and prevent any lasting effects.

The woman, reassured, sat beside the scholar, her eyes filled with affection. The scholar, in turn, comforted her with tender words.

Such scenes were the bane of the big bearded man’s existence.

Zhang Shanfeng, despite being a monk, saw no harm in a bit of merriment. “Better shared joy than solitude!” he declared, dragging Chen Ping’an to Xu Yuanxia’s room. “It’s Liu Gaohua’s sister! Quite the beauty, and she brought along a gentle scholar! They will soon be the son and daughter in law of the magistrate!” Chen Ping’an had just finished filling the sword gourds, the room was filled with the scent of wine. Seeing Zhang Shanfeng so determined, he abandoned his plans for sword practice and followed. The scholar and his maiden friend both gasped as Chen Ping’an entered.

“If the enemy does not move, I will not move.”

Chen Ping’an pretended ignorance, seated himself, and drank from his gourd.

The scholar found himself in a predicament. Liu Gaohua’s sister, raised on tales of romance, was even more troubled. A wealthy woman, but one step away from a marriage decision, what could this do? The woman could not hug a foreign scholar for too long. News would spread.

Liu Gaohua looked confused. “What? Do you three know each other?”

The scholar attempted to smooth things over, coughing and explaining, “I chanced upon this young man by the lake, with your sister. He carried a sword, and moved with such grace and spirit that I was deeply impressed. I am honored to meet him again!”

The scholar bowed to Chen Ping’an, his eyes filled with silent pleading. He thought that God would give him a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to save the beauty of his heroes. If he missed it, wouldn’t it be a waste of the Moon Master’s Red Line? So there was a “misunderstanding” that ended up not very beautifully.

Chen Ping’an, unable to harbor any fondness for the man, offered only a polite smile, leaving the scholar a sliver of room for maneuver.

He still wished to avoid entangling himself in Liu Gaohua’s family matters.

Whether this marriage was good or bad, whether it was a good man and a beautiful couple, a match made by heaven, or a destined fate of a dewed mandarin duck, has nothing to do with him.

Then again, if it was Zhang Shanfeng, whom he considered a true friend, Chen Ping’an would speak his mind. Even if not directly, he would warn the Taoist that his future brother-in-law was not what he seemed.

The scholar explained he had met Miss Liu at a temple fair, and was so destitute that he needed lodging. Liu Gaohua begged the others to take him in, opening Xu Yuanxia’s eyes. It was rare to be a brother-in-law for this. Not only did he not dislike the family background of the scholar surnamed Liu, but he helped him. My sister concealed this relationship that was not good-for-all.

The scholar feared sharing a room with Chen Ping’an, nor did he wish to stay with the intimidating bearded man. He preferred Zhang Shanfeng, finding the young Taoist more agreeable.

Liu Gaohua left with his reluctant sister.

Walking the lonely streets, Liu Gaohua whispered to his sister as they approached the county government gates, “Sister, I don’t like that person very much, but since you like him, I will do whatever I can. . If one day you find something wrong, don’t think it’s anything. The sky can’t fall, whether it’s beating or scolding my father, or if you are angry, you do something too much. Don’t be afraid at that time. If you have me, I am you It’s my brother.”

The woman scolded him playfully, “Liu Gaohua! You cannot read my mind! What terrible things are you saying?”

Liu Gaohua made a face.

Pretending fright, the woman screamed she’d seen a ghost, and ran to the gates of the magistrate’s mansion.

Liu Gaohua sighed, hurrying after her.

He suddenly stopped and turned, searching the empty streets. Finding nothing, he shook his head and continued onward.

A chill had run down his spine.

He reassured himself that he had met the Old God with his father and had some chats with the old immortal with a fairy spirit in person. He was so immersed in such a fairy spirit, even if there was really a world. Dirtless things, like the tree demon in the ancient house, must not be close to you now.

As the servant closed the gate behind them, a night watchman began his rounds in the distance, striking the night watch. But, strangely, though it was the third watch, he was striking the fourth.

A hoarse voice echoed through the streets of Rouge County, “The sky is dry, be careful of fire candles.”

The old blind man, holding his gong, was usually accompanied by a mute companion, tasked with striking the bang. They had worked together for years, the arrangement was comfortable.

But the blind man didn’t know that his companion had been replaced by a woman clad in white. Each time she struck the gong, blood splattered across its surface, only to turn into wisps of black smoke before it could touch the street.

The blind man shouted on, “The sky is dry, be careful of fire candles.”