Watching the waterfall, Chen Ping’an felt a stirring within, yet ultimately, he did not draw the locust-wood sword to unleash the strike Master Qi had used against the Powder-Robed Demon in the ancient temple.

Chen Ping’an muttered to himself, “What is it? Why do I feel that drawing the sword would be a mistake? Could it be that practicing martial arts and swordsmanship are entirely different matters? One allows for improvement through diligence, while the other depends solely on innate talent?”

Little did Chen Ping’an know, it wasn’t that his comprehension was lacking, nor that he lacked the talent for swordsmanship. Rather, the swords he had witnessed, the swordsmen themselves, and their sword techniques were simply too lofty and distant for a third-realm martial artist like himself.

However, Chen Ping’an possessed keen eyesight, discerning details that eluded ordinary martial artists. This, in turn, burdened him with an intangible pressure. Whenever he contemplated delivering a strike, his habit of pursuing perfection made the sword in its sheath feel as heavy as a thousand tons.

Throughout his journey, Chen Ping’an had witnessed Wei Jin of the Wind and Snow Temple, a nascent Sword Immortal, cleaving through the boundaries of the wronged ghost’s domain with a single stroke before even arriving. He had also seen Xu Ruo, the heroic swordsman of the Mohist school, whose slightly unsheathed sword, empowered by visualization, conjured a mountain range to resist Wei Jin’s attack. And finally, there was Qi Jingchun’s effortless sword, easily severing the White Emperor City’s legacy of the Hongyuan Golden Light Array.

This was vastly different from Ning Yao’s practice of the foundational stances of the Mountain-Shaking Fist in the Mud Lane ancestral home, which Chen Ping’an could barely keep up with, even gleaning some of its true meaning. This was because Old Man Cui, after studying the manual, had already declared that the Mountain-Shaking Fist’s forms were crude and unworthy of mention, easily imitated by anyone. Even Zhao Shuxia of Rouge County, after stealing glances at Chen Ping’an’s stances, could use them to temper his body and strengthen himself.

But the most valuable aspect of the Mountain-Shaking Fist was the “spirit of the martial artist.” Thus, the Mountain-Shaking Fist was easy to begin but difficult to master, to refine and penetrate its depths.

How difficult?

Consider the Mountain-Shaking Fist’s core tenet: “Those who practice my fist, facing the Dao Ancestor, may be defeated, but shall not retreat.” Cui Chan’s grandfather, a top martial artist who had returned to the tenth realm, faced Lu Chen, yet did he throw a punch? No. Regardless of his considerations or reasons, the old man ultimately did not deliver that punch. This demonstrates that completely mastering the fist’s essence, as espoused by the manual, was as difficult as ascending to the heavens.

The waterfall crashed into the pool, scattering water droplets like a million shattered pearls, creating a rising mist.

“Ah Liang, swordsmanship is so difficult,” Chen Ping’an sighed, scratching his head and taking a swig of his drink, feeling somewhat helpless. He stood on the waterside pavilion’s railing, surveying his surroundings, his gaze ultimately returning to the waterfall. Although the thought of drawing his sword had vanished, he recalled the barefoot old man who had helped him temper his third-realm body, who, when discussing the Cloud-Soaring Marsh stance, had stated that the first time it was unveiled, it had pushed the rain back into the heavens.

Chen Ping’an now looked at the cascading waterfall, wondering if the bamboo-house old man could deliver a punch that would cause the waterfall to surge upwards, reversing the water’s course.

Once he shifted from the unfamiliar drawing of a sword to the all-too-familiar throwing of a punch, Chen Ping’an was immediately filled with confidence. This confidence stemmed from hundreds of thousands of stances practiced and countless times facing enemies without retreating.

Chen Ping’an gazed at the spectacular waterfall, struck by a sudden thought. If he unleashed a punch with all his might, could he break through the waterfall’s curtain of water in one fell swoop? Could he, by chance, after breaking through, still have a trace of fist-energy smash into the sturdy stone wall behind the waterfall? He wondered if martial artists like Xu Yuanxia, who had already reached the Qi Refining realm, could punch a dent into the stone wall.

Chen Ping’an felt a stirring of intent.

However, Chen Ping’an quickly jumped off the railing, sat down on the pavilion’s long chair, and began drinking his wine, like a tourist enjoying the scenery of a mountain villa.

Chen Ping’an looked towards the path. After a moment, a group of brightly dressed individuals slowly approached. Some laughed loudly and spoke with bold spirit, some were refined and elegant, and some women had graceful manners and blooming smiles. The three leading figures were a handsome young master with a jade-like face in the center, with jade ornaments hanging on one side of his waist and an uncommon short sword on the other, possessing an imposing presence. To his left was a man with a saber, striding powerfully and looking around with pride. To his right was a young scholar wearing a square cap and holding a folding fan.

Behind the three, there were several women and young girls, all with exceptional beauty and bearing.

Further back, there was a group of attendants, mostly strong, young men with sharp eyes and imposing auras. One of them carried a bull-horn hard bow on his back, which was particularly eye-catching.

An indescribable aura of the martial world swept towards the pavilion.

The viewing path of the Swordwater Villa was a dead end, terminating at this pavilion. The group of people crowded the path, leaving almost no space. Chen Ping’an could only temporarily stay in the pavilion, planning to leave once they entered. The three leaders and the women ascended the steps, while the attendants occupied various positions, guarding the outside of the pavilion. They mostly glanced at Chen Ping’an, who carried a sword case, and then paid him no more attention.

The young master, who had the bearing of a scion of a powerful clan, paused slightly when he saw Chen Ping’an, seemingly waiting for him to take the initiative to speak. However, after their eyes met, Chen Ping’an seemed somewhat dull. The young master smiled slightly and nodded in greeting, secretly wondering if there was anyone among the martial heroes who had entered the villa who did not recognize him.

Chen Ping’an then nodded in return.

As Chen Ping’an planned to take the opportunity to leave the pavilion, a young woman sitting beside the handsome master looked at Chen Ping’an and said softly, “If you have not yet finished enjoying the scenery, sir, there is no need to leave.”

Chen Ping’an was stunned, as he did not understand the official language of the Combing Water Kingdom she spoke.

Understanding his confusion, the woman immediately repeated herself in the elegant language of Treasure Bottle Continent.

Only then did Chen Ping’an understand.

A young woman, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old, as tall as a man, with a face as cold as ice, carried a beautifully sheathed long saber, wrapped in gold thread, at her waist. However, the way she wore the saber was rare and unusual, being hung in reverse, just like the middle-aged man.

She glanced at the locust-wood sword case behind Chen Ping’an and then at the “vermilion wine pot” hanging from his waist. Unable to discern his background or realm, the woman lost interest.
The saber-wearing man was forthright, “Little brother, just sit and relax. Drink if you wish, enjoy the scenery if you please. No need to be constrained. If we’re talking about who arrived first, it’s us who are disturbing your peace and quiet. Of course, if you find our chatter annoying later, you’re welcome to leave.”

Most people would have simply stayed put, but Chen Pingan cupped his fist in farewell and said, “I’ve been here for half a day already, seen the waterfall, and am about to return the way I came.”

The saber-wearing man laughed heartily, even standing up in a gesture of farewell, “No problem, no problem. Suit yourself, little brother.”

The youngest girl widened her eyes, thinking this unfamiliar young man had terrible judgment and an inflated ego. Did he truly not know that the host within the waterside pavilion was none other than Song Fengshan, the young master of the Swordwater Manor? The top-tier Little Sword Immortal of the Shuishui Kingdom’s martial world! Rumor had it that a princess of Shuishui Kingdom was so infatuated with him that she almost eloped. Even if the guest didn’t recognize the master, how could he not recognize such a prominent figure in Shuishui Kingdom who dared to wear his saber reversed? The man who cupped his fist in farewell, despite his approachable demeanor, was actually the current master of the Saberpeak Manor, which was on par with Swordwater Manor. He was a leading master of the saber arts in Shuishui Kingdom, renowned and prestigious, having roamed the martial world of over a dozen kingdoms. Even the Old Sword Saint, Song Yushao, had personally praised his saber skills, saying they were only a hair’s breadth away from reaching the realm of miraculous mastery.

The girl secretly gloated, thinking this impoverished-looking young man must be a fledgling in the martial world, a naive chick just out of the shell? Could he be a daring thief who had sneaked into Swordwater Manor, and thus dared not linger? Haha, if that were the case, it would be amusing.

Chen Pingan walked out of the waterside pavilion and down the steps. Suddenly, a clear, cold voice came from behind, “Hold on.”

Chen Pingan turned his head to look. It was the young woman with the reversed saber. She walked to the top of the steps, looking down at him. “Who is your master? Are you from a swordsmanship sect in Colorful Garb Kingdom or Ancient Elm Kingdom?”

Although the woman’s words were somewhat overbearing, Chen Pingan turned around, shook his head, and tried to speak as politely as possible, “I come from a place further north. I came to Swordwater Manor with a friend this time, hearing that the young master is to be elected as the leader of the Shuishui Kingdom’s martial alliance, so I thought of finding an opportunity to offer congratulations.”

The handsome young master smiled slightly.

The young scholar, fanning his folding fan, teased softly, “A god is before them, yet they do not recognize him.”

The saber-wearing man looked at the woman’s back and said with amusement, “You little martial arts fanatic, you’re not allowed to be rude to guests! What did I tell you before? When you leave our manor, you can’t just randomly challenge people to sparring matches!”

The reversed-saber woman placed her palm on the hilt of her saber, causing the tip of the scabbard to rise slightly, pointing directly at Chen Pingan at the bottom of the steps. She paid no heed to the man’s words, staring at Chen Pingan, and asked, “Are you in the second or third realm of martial arts? How many years have you been practicing swordsmanship?”

Chen Pingan frowned, cupped his fist, and turned to leave, not intending to pay attention to this young woman from a prominent martial family in Shuishui Kingdom.

Chen Pingan was easy to talk to, but that didn’t mean he had no principles with anyone. On the contrary, for strangers, Chen Pingan never provoked, but he was also not afraid.

Cai Jinjian, Fu Nanhua, the Mountain-Moving Ape, the Chessboard Mountain serpent whose head exploded, the official guard on the Embroidery River ferry, and of course, the young Cui Chan hiding in the ancient well in the Yellow Court Kingdom, afraid to show his face, as well as the female ghost whose neck was pinched and whose soul was shattered by punches in the ancient temple not long ago, had all experienced it.

The reversed-saber woman smiled coldly, casually dropping a sentence, “A piece of trash like you dares to carry a sword and roam the martial world, and even dares to enter Swordwater Manor. Surely the person who taught you swordsmanship only taught you to be timid and fearful, right?”

The saber-wearing man was somewhat helpless. His only daughter’s bad temper, inherited from the womb, was truly harmful.

But while he complained, the man had always been proud of his daughter’s martial arts talent, not hiding his expectations at all, directly declaring that his daughter would never marry out, and the Saberpeak Manor would only have a son-in-law, because his daughter was destined to inherit the manor. The saber-wearing man was unwilling to use his power to bully others, stood up, and was about to persuade his daughter to stop provoking the foreign young man. Those who practiced martial arts should put martial ethics first, and martial skills were secondary. But the man also knew that these old sayings of the martial world were not only unheard by his daughter, but also by the younger generation of geniuses in the martial world, who would listen with impatience, rolling their eyes behind the older generation’s backs.

The most outstanding young expert in Shuishui Kingdom in the past decade was none other than the young master sitting beside him. At a young age, he had already entered the fourth realm of martial arts, earning himself the reputation of Little Sword Immortal. Before each sword strike, whether challenged or actively seeking someone to test his sword, Song Fengshan would definitely burn incense, bathe, and change into a brand-new suit of clothes that had never been worn before, and after the sword strike, he would never leave a survivor.

But this swordplay genius, who was so decisive in killing, was likely to be the youngest fifth-realm grandmaster in the history of Shuishui Kingdom.

A thirty-year-old fifth-realm grandmaster, by then defeating the Azure Bamboo Sword Immortal, Song Fengshan could rightfully monopolize the title of “Sword Immortal.” By then, his grandfather, the Old Sword Saint Song Yushao, should still be alive. Now that the Sword God of Colorful Garb Kingdom was dead, who could resist Swordwater Manor in the territory of more than a dozen kingdoms?

This was also the key reason why the Shuishui Kingdom’s martial world was willing to submit to a junior.

However, the Old Manor Master Song Yushao had rarely appeared in decades, perhaps feeling disappointed with this new and renewed martial world.

Legend had it that the relationship between the grandfather and grandson was not very good, especially the Old Sword Saint’s dislike of his soft-spoken granddaughter-in-law.

Hearing the reversed-saber woman’s sarcastic words, even Chen Pingan, who had the temper of a mud Buddha, suddenly stopped and turned his head to look towards the waterside pavilion.

He didn’t know much about the so-called martial world rules, let alone the customs of Shuishui Kingdom, but Chen Pingan felt that some principles in the world were universally applicable, and some things were clearly right and wrong.

Fortunately, the saber-wearing man had already walked to his daughter’s side, scolding with a straight face, “With such arrogant and spoiled manners, how dare I let you roam the martial world alone? Let’s postpone it for another year!”
The woman was enraged, her face as cold as ice, even more frigid than before. However, the person before her was, after all, her father, and also the master who had personally taught her martial arts and swordsmanship. He was both father and teacher. Moreover, in front of so many outsiders, the sword-carrying woman, who had been immersed in the affairs of the martial world since childhood, even if unwilling, still snorted coldly and stopped uttering hurtful words. She turned and walked towards the pavilion’s long chair, plopped down, turned her head to look at the waterfall, and felt agitated and restless.

The man said apologetically to Chen Ping’an, “Young friend, I, Wang Yiran, apologize to you on behalf of my daughter.”

Chen Ping’an nodded and turned to walk away. In his heart, his impression of this young woman was extremely poor, because she reminded Chen Ping’an of Zhu He and his daughter Zhu Lu. It was the same scene: the fathers were clearly reasonable and generous people, but the daughters they raised were so tyrannical and self-centered.

It was strange!

When Chen Ping’an thought of Zhu Lu, who had tried to assassinate him, he thought of the mastermind behind it, Li Baoping’s second brother, Li Baozhen. This was a grudge that could not be avoided, which made Chen Ping’an couldn’t help but sigh.

Chen Ping’an’s departure without a word immediately made the sword-carrying woman, who was full of anger, completely unbearable. She suddenly stood up and said sharply, “The dignified master of the Hengdao Manor personally apologized to you, and you didn’t even say a word? Something born without a mother and raised without a father!”

Chen Ping’an turned around expressionlessly and tightened the ropes binding the sword box on his back. “If you want to spar, then spar.”

During the seven hundred-mile journey from the ancient temple to the Swordwater Manor, Chen Ping’an had been silent, and his mood was not good. Xu Yuanxia and Zhang Shanfeng had also noticed this. The bearded man had even restrained himself a lot when drinking, and no longer told lewd jokes. Therefore, when Chen Ping’an said he wanted to see the waterfall, the two, who were actually somewhat tempted, tacitly said they didn’t want to move, just to let Chen Ping’an relax alone.

The woman strode to the top of the steps and sneered, “Good, I’ve been waiting for you to say that!”

However, Chen Ping’an’s next sentence surprised everyone inside and outside the pavilion, and they felt a chill run down their spines. “Does a verbal life-and-death agreement count?”

Wang Yiran, a renowned swordsmanship master of the Shushui Kingdom, said in a deep voice, “Young friend, sparring is fine. Regardless of victory or defeat, I will not interfere, but I hope you don’t fight to the death, just stop when you’ve made your point, how about it?”

The sword-carrying woman was about to speak, but Wang Yiran glared at her fiercely. The woman, who had almost never seen her father so stern, was so frightened that she fell silent and dared not say any more harsh words to the damned outsider.

Wang Yiran stared at Chen Ping’an. “If you only want to fight this battle if you sign a life-and-death agreement, I will not agree. But if it’s just sparring, even if the moves are a bit heavy, I am willing to let my daughter suffer this hardship. I hope she can use this opportunity to understand the depth of the martial world and not be so arrogant, thinking she’s invincible just because she’s learned a few basic skills!”

At the end, the man glanced at his daughter. In front of so many outsiders, these words were very harsh.

Teach your son in person, teach your wife in private.

This was probably the old rule of the old martial world.

Chen Ping’an took a deep breath. “Then let’s spar!”

Standing next to his daughter, Wang Yiran lowered his voice and said, “Shanhu, remember to be measured when you strike. Leave a way out for others, and don’t narrow your own path in the martial world.”

Obviously, Wang Yiran still favored his daughter. But as a father, he still had to say the right things.

The sword-carrying woman looked at the young man on the path outside the pavilion and tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Dad, I know what I’m doing.”

She pressed her hand on the hilt of her sword, smiled slightly, and leaped high towards the ignorant young swordsman.

The moment the woman’s famous sword was drawn from its scabbard…

A muffled tremor came from the path over there. The figure in the corner of everyone’s eyes suddenly disappeared. The next moment, the sword-box carrying young man was in front of the sword-wielding woman, punching her in the forehead. He used the force to bounce back to his original spot, put away his stance, and stood gracefully. The woman, on the other hand, was like a kite with a broken string, punched over the top of the pavilion in the air, and finally fell into the pool under the waterfall, her life or death unknown.

The two sides were sparring.

One side thundered loudly and rained little… no rain at all.

The other side didn’t even thunder, but the attack was a downpour.

Chen Ping’an turned and left, took down his sword-nurturing gourd, raised it high, and took a sip of wine, leaving the people in the pavilion with a back view.

So, even a clay Bodhisattva has a temper.