Wang Yiran’s expression turned solemn. He twisted his body, not caring if he startled the other ladies and family members in the waterside pavilion. He stepped on the railing and swiftly darted towards the pool to retrieve his fallen daughter.

The Swordwater Manor’s young master, a young scholar fanning himself, clicked his tongue, “Never thought he was such a hidden master.”

The scholar snapped his fan shut and gazed at the sword-bearing youth walking away on the path. He was definitely a martial artist of the Fourth Realm, a minor grandmaster! Could he be the closed-door disciple of the Sword God of Caiyi Kingdom? Because the martial world was treacherous, and his master, the Sword God, had died violently in the mountains, he had to disguise himself as a stranger, traveling alone to escape disaster? Otherwise, he couldn’t imagine who could have nurtured such a young martial arts genius, reaching the Grandmaster realm even earlier than Song Fengshan.

Song Fengshan’s wife, the beautiful and virtuous young woman, couldn’t help but softly ask, “Will Coral be alright?”

Song Fengshan subtly rubbed the hilt of his short sword “Azure Water” at his waist, smiling without a word.

The scholar smiled and explained, “Madam, rest assured, Miss Liu is fine. That young man’s punch used a clever technique, only using fist-罡 external force to stun Miss Wang. It’s just a superficial wound, not harming her physique or spirit. In this exchange, the young man held back at the last moment, probably as Manor Lord Wang said, not wanting to narrow his path in the martial world.”

As expected, Wang Yiran carried his daughter back to the waterside pavilion. With Wang Yiran’s assistance, after several pressure point strikes, the young woman slowly regained consciousness. Apart from her disheveled appearance, soaked clothes, and vaguely revealed glimpses of spring, losing a great deal of face, her complexion and spirit were still acceptable. The woman with a sabre at her waist struggled to stand in the pavilion, her forehead red and swollen. She faced away from the crowd, one hand against a pavilion pillar, the other covering her mouth. The drenched, slender woman’s eyes were misty and blurry, adding a touch of pitiable charm to her usual aloofness.

The young girl who loved joining in on the fun craned her neck, gazing at the drinking youth on the path, exclaiming, “Wow, he really is a master.”

The scholar glanced quickly at the woman’s graceful back. The woman, resembling a drowned chicken, revealed her exquisite figure. The scholar’s lips curled upwards. What astonishing long legs! Naive youths probably didn’t understand this kind of charm, but someone with his rich experience knew this kind of taste was most damaging to a man’s body.

One wave subsided, and another rose.

In the martial world, a general’s disgrace means a soldier’s death. Among the trusted followers of various factions outside the waterside pavilion, the man carrying a bull horn greatbow seemed to see the subtle mockery of his fellow attendants. Suddenly, anger arose from his heart. He roared, removed the rare and sturdy bow crafted over ten years, and took a feathered arrow from his waist quiver. He drew the bow like a full moon, “Evil-doer, daring to injure my young lady, eat my arrow!”

Having encountered successive changes, Wang Yiran, the Manor Lord of Horizontal Sabre Manor, known for his composure, a Sabre Grandmaster with a “Mountainous Aura,” was also somewhat annoyed. He roared angrily, “Ma Lu! No sneak attacks!”

Chen Pingan, who had already walked a hundred paces away, was about to turn around, but he paused slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone standing with his hands behind his back on a high branch of a large tree. The mountain wind blew, and the black-clothed old man’s figure swayed gently with the branch like a ripple of water, exuding great elegance. The two quickly made eye contact. The old man nodded, and Chen Pingan dismissed the thought of acting, simply turning around to face the waterside pavilion again.

The sword-wielding old man flickered, disappearing from sight. The next moment, he appeared on the path, brushing past Chen Pingan like a wisp of green smoke. He raised his arm and extended a finger, standing upright.

The feathered arrow that pierced through the air was stopped by the black-clothed old man with his finger on the tip. The powerful arrow shattered inch by inch in the air, while the old man’s finger remained unharmed, without the slightest abnormality.

The old man extended another finger, gently grasping the last remaining arrow tip, now at the end of its force. With a casual flick, the arrow tip shot away, piercing through the palm of the bow-wielding man. The man was quite courageous, still not dropping the bull horn greatbow. His bloody arm drooped down, holding the bow with one hand, eyes wide, confronting the uninvited guest fiercely.

The black-clothed old man’s expression was cold, “Walking the martial world, one is responsible for their own life and death! Haven’t your elders taught you this principle? In other parts of the Shushui Kingdom, you can disregard any rules and do as you please, but not in my Swordwater Manor.”

The young woman stood up, performing a graceful Wanfu salute, respectfully calling out, “Old Ancestor.”

Wang Yiran’s expression changed slightly. He quickly clasped his fists and bowed slightly, “Wang Yiran of Horizontal Sabre Manor pays respects to Sword Saint Song!”

The scholar followed closely, tapping the young girl’s head, signaling her to rise and greet him. Then, the scholar cupped his hands and loudly said, “Han Yuanshan, a disciple of the Han clan of Little Chong Mountain, has met the Old Manor Lord.”

The young girl was lively and not at all timid. She followed her brother’s example, cupping her hands but not bowing her head, looking directly at the legendary old immortal of the martial world, saying in a childish voice, “Han Yuanxue, a disciple of the Han clan of Little Chong Mountain, has met the Old Manor Lord.”

With the appearance of the old Sword Saint Song Yushao, Song Fengshan, as the old man’s direct grandson, was the last to stand up, his tone without the slightest emotional fluctuation, slowly saying, “Grandfather’s trip out this time was a bit short. This grandson thought that Grandfather would only be willing to return after the manor became quiet and all the guests had left.”

The old man glanced around, leaving behind a meaningful “Filthy atmosphere,” and turned to leave with Chen Pingan, completely disregarding the pillars of the Shushui Kingdom and the Han clan of Little Chong Mountain, as well as Horizontal Sabre Manor, as if they were not worthy of his attention. The Old Manor Lord didn’t even bother to look at them.

Song Yushao walked side by side with Chen Pingan, his expression appearing somewhat lonely from behind. After walking for half a mile, he mocked himself, “The family’s style is severely skewed, not even as good as a waterfall. I’ve made you laugh.”

Chen Pingan didn’t know how to respond, so he just said some insipid platitudes, “The people in the manor are actually alright, not as bad as the old senior said.”
Every family has its own troubles, a scripture hard to recite. Even the most magnanimous and open-minded elder wouldn’t broadcast their family’s dirty laundry to outsiders. So, the old man changed the subject, “That punch outside the water pavilion, why did you change your mind at the last moment, using only three or four tenths of your strength? That future master of the Hengdao Manor is stubborn and not to be trifled with. Showing mercy today might not be appreciated, and she might even become a persistent nuisance. These young Jianghu heroes these days only care about their own satisfaction, which I dislike greatly. But you being this restrained, I can’t quite admire either.”

Chen Pingan took a sip of wine and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling, “If one is unhappy, should they just punch someone to death? That’s too domineering. Besides, I’ll be leaving Shushui Kingdom soon, making it hard for Hengdao Manor to find trouble with me. At most, that woman will curse me behind my back, which I won’t even hear.”

Song Yushao turned to look at the sincere young man, finding it both unexpected and reasonable. He chuckled, “Those words are alright coming from an old man like me, half-buried in the ground, where everything ends. What else can one do? But you, a mere fifteen or sixteen-year-old, acting so old and mature is quite boring.”

Chen Pingan didn’t argue. The lingering frustration in his heart had lessened after that punch, which was enough.

He remembered something and gently reminded, “The old woman from the ancient temple, who claims to be one of the Shushui Kingdom’s Four Fiends, entered your manor with a burly man. Senior, please be careful.”

Song Yushao laughed heartily, “That’s nothing. Including that young master Han in the water pavilion, all four of the infamous Shushui Kingdom Fiends are gathered!”

Chen Pingan was puzzled, “The remaining devil?”

Song Yushao shook his head and sighed, “It’s best not to speak of it.”

Chen Pingan took another sip of wine, contemplating matters.

The old man understood and spoke frankly, “Inviting you here as guests was without any ulterior motives. I simply hope this manor isn’t filled with just a bunch of hypocritical scoundrels. This Swordwater Manor, after all, is a place I built with my own hands. I don’t want it to be covered in dog droppings, making me disgusted to walk around my own home. Having you as guests makes it much more pleasing to the eye.”

Chen Pingan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This senior was too straightforward.

Chen Pingan didn’t know that Song Yushao, besides his increasingly renowned title of Sword Saint in the Jianghu, was also known as “Iron Block” by his peers, referring to his unsmiling demeanor, both within the family and even more so in the Jianghu. If Song Fengshan didn’t resemble Song Yushao at all in character, it would be a great injustice to the Little Sword Immortal. It’s just that Song Fengshan disdained the old Jianghu ways of Song Yushao, which were rigid, conservative, and focused solely on pursuing the pinnacle of the Sword Dao.

Song Yushao, an old man in his seventies, had witnessed too many Jianghu storms and the treacherousness of the human heart. He was increasingly convinced that reasoning should only be used with reasonable people. Otherwise, the rusty old iron sword at his waist was his reasoning. Song Yushao enjoyed roaming the Jianghu alone with his sword. Over the years, he had seen many talented young upstarts. Their talent was truly good, but their martial morality was truly lacking. Yet, they thrived, and those who admired them were countless. Song Yushao didn’t quite understand how the Jianghu would be handed over to these people in thirty or fifty years. What hope was there then?

But Song Yushao’s swordsmanship, no matter how high, was only that of one man. His fellow elders were passing away one by one, taking with them the old words and rules that the younger generation didn’t want to hear, burying them together in the mud. Now, even his former rival and friend, the old Sword God of Colorful Clothing Kingdom, had died, leaving Song Yushao feeling uninspired.

He felt the Jianghu these days was bland and tasteless, devoid of any strong spirits.

The old and the young strolled leisurely, and Song Yushao suddenly said, “Those people at the Waterfall Pavilion were blind, unable to discern the level of your fist intent, but I saw it clearly. So, I’ll say a word of advice: your current state of mind has some problems. Breaking through from the Third Realm to the Fourth Realm is the first major threshold for us martial artists. The more solid your foundation, the more likely problems will arise if you break through with unresolved issues. The collapse of a great snow mountain is a thousand times more terrifying than a small landslide. Young man, you must be careful!”

Chen Pingan was startled awake, wiping the sweat from his forehead. After pondering for a moment, he turned and said, “Thank you for the guidance, Senior.”

Song Yushao pondered slightly and said something seemingly unrelated, “Stopping your punch earlier was indeed a sign of your kindness, but it wasn’t beneficial for your breakthrough. According to the usual Jianghu path, if you had delivered a full-force punch, seriously injuring or even killing that woman, and then incurred the wrath of the crowd, a great, bloody, and desperate battle might have been the opportunity for your breakthrough. That would have been what the immortals call an ‘opportunity’.”

Chen Pingan smiled, not regretting his actions, and said something that sounded quite old and mature, “It doesn’t matter. What’s meant to be mine won’t escape, and what’s not meant to be mine can’t be forced.”

Song Yushao had been carefully observing the young man’s expression, noticing his composure and clear eyes. The old man nodded secretly.

The Sword Dao that the young man believed in was vastly different from that of his grandson, Song Fengshan. Although it was too early to say who was right or wrong, or who could walk faster and further, Song Yushao personally felt that the foreign boy who traveled with a sword but had clumsy swordsmanship was more to his liking. In the matter of educating descendants, the families of scholars were indeed more capable than Jianghu sects. Song Yushao was sincerely convinced of this. In his early years, he focused on the Sword Dao, neglecting the cultivation and shaping of the family’s traditions, becoming blind to what was right under his nose, or rather, helpless. At most, he could only resort to scolding and beating. Looking back now, the old man only felt regret and remorse.

The old man didn’t think he was much better than Wang Yiran of Hengdao Manor.

Etiquette comes from noble families, and laws come from sects.

Etiquette and rules are instilled in the children of true noble families from a young age. Immortality techniques have been passed down in mountain immortal clans since ancient times.

Song Yushao deeply felt this. He had traveled to the Southern Stream Kingdom and associated with the famous scholars there. Although they had different personalities, they each had their own style, even if they were just scholars with no strength to truss a chicken, they still made him feel ashamed of his own crudeness.

Between the waterfall and Swordwater Manor, there was a delicate and exquisite pavilion with upturned eaves, with the plaque “Landscape” hanging on it. The couplet was “Rocks white and rugged, water clear and gurgling,” simple and unique.
Song Yushao clearly favored this pavilion, pulling Chen Ping’an to sit on the long bench inside, facing each other. The old man rested his sword across his lap, while the youth carried his sword on his back – one hailed as a sword saint by the martial world, the other lacking the confidence even to draw his blade.

The view was expansive, with distant mountains like ink strokes.

The mountain breeze was refreshing, invigorating the spirit.

Song Yushao sat quietly, not bothering with polite small talk, lost in thought.

His grandson, Song Fengshan, wasn’t particularly ambitious when it came to martial world affairs. It was mostly his granddaughter-in-law stirring the pot, whispering sweet nothings that made him believe becoming the martial alliance leader was a mere trifle. He wanted to dominate both the righteous and the wicked, even extending his reach into the imperial court. Otherwise, with Song Fengshan’s temperament, he would have never bothered with that princess of Shuishui Kingdom; he would have cleaved her in two if he wasn’t feeling merciful.

The “Four Fiends of Shuishui” was a relatively recent term, not widely known in the martial world. Only masters like Wang Yiran would have heard of it. The leader was the burly man who arrived with the fiend “Granny”; he possessed a magical silver halberd and founded a demonic sect in Shuishui Kingdom. Second was the demonic woman in the ancient temple. Then came the unassuming young man from the Chongshan Han clan residing in the waterside pavilion, from a noble family but practicing demonic arts, controlling many high-ranking officials of Shuishui Kingdom.

The last of the Four Fiends was both far away and right before his eyes – Song Yushao’s own granddaughter-in-law.

During one of Song Yushao’s long travels, she “accidentally” met Song Fengshan, and the two secretly married, announcing it to the world. When Song Yushao returned to the manor, the deed was done. Most frustratingly, Song Fengshan, completely infatuated, confessed that he knew his wife’s demonic identity. That was when Song Yushao drew his sword, cleaving his eldest grandson’s original sword in two and then piercing the woman’s abdomen. Song Fengshan went berserk, trying to fight his grandfather. Enraged, Song Yushao was about to sever his wayward grandson’s tendons, completely ruining his swordplay prospects, to prevent future harm to the world. However, the woman stood in front of Song Fengshan, allowing the old man’s sword to pierce her heart. Though she didn’t die instantly, her bridge to longevity was severed, turning her into a frail invalid who couldn’t even withstand the spring chill.

These messy family affairs, Song Yushao tried to reason with him, appealing to his emotions, but it was no use. In the end, he drew his sword several times, but still couldn’t make things clear, resulting in a confusing mess.

Song Yushao sighed deeply.

Mountains and waters pavilion, mountains rugged, waters babbling, indeed beautiful scenery, but the ways of the world are like waves, not conforming to people’s wishes.

Chen Ping’an suddenly asked, “Senior Song, can I continue practicing my fists by the waterfall?”

Without hesitation, Song Yushao readily agreed, “Why not? I’ll announce that the area from the Mountains and Waters Pavilion to the waterfall is now forbidden territory of the Swordwater Manor. Trespassers die.”

Chen Ping’an scratched his head, feeling a little guilty, “I can practice at night when no one is enjoying the scenery. No need to block the road during the day; that would be too inhumane.”

Song Yushao shook his head and laughed, “Little one, you’re too awkward. Do I need to explain myself to outsiders just because I’m marking off a clean patch on my own land?”

Chen Ping’an had no choice but to say, “If the manor needs my help, Senior, just say the word.”

The old man patted the iron sword on his lap, annoyed, “My sword is different from the two you carry on your back.”

Chen Ping’an looked embarrassed, took down his gourd, and just drank, saying nothing.

The old man suppressed a smile, sheathed his sword, and stood up, “Just practice your fists. You can stay in the manor as long as you want. Oh, by the way, the taste of your liquor smells terrible. I’ll have someone deliver a few jars of aged Huadiao to your residence later, good wine buried for twenty years. That’s real wine! What are you drinking? It’s no better than water, and the point is, you little one likes to take a sip whenever you can, regardless of who’s around. I’m ashamed for you.”

The old man tapped his toes, his figure swaying, instantly appearing on a high branch in the distant forest. With a few elegant leaps, he disappeared.

Chen Ping’an sat alone in the Mountains and Waters Pavilion.

Having met this martial world senior twice, Chen Ping’an inexplicably thought of Shen Wen, the City God of Rouge County in Caiyi Kingdom. Although one was a renowned pure martial artist, and the other was a civil official deity enjoying incense offerings, oh, and adding the Qi cultivator who took Luan Luan as a disciple, he felt that the three of them were somewhat similar. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. Anyway, after interacting with them, Chen Ping’an felt that he really couldn’t buy the cheapest local brew for his gourd anymore.

Haha, it doesn’t matter, won’t he be able to drink the best wine of Swordwater Manor soon?!

The key is that Chen Ping’an doesn’t have to pay for it!

So, Chen Ping’an was in a very good mood when he left the Mountains and Waters Pavilion and returned to his residence.

When he arrived at the courtyard, Xu Yuanxia and Zhang Shanfeng saw Chen Ping’an’s joyful face and looked at each other in surprise. What? Watching the waterfall is that effective?

Chen Ping’an happily sat down by the stone table and laughed, “I’m going to practice my fists by the waterfall tonight. Who wants to join me?”

The bearded man chuckled, “Did you secretly peek at a beauty bathing by the waterfall? If there’s such a beautiful scene, count me in!”

Zhang Shanfeng blinked, “This poor priest can keep watch for you.”

Chen Ping’an said helplessly, “No way, I had a conflict with someone by the waterfall, got into a fight. They seemed to be from the Hengdao Manor. Fortunately, Senior Song intervened and blocked an arrow from an escort, otherwise I guess I would have had to fight. Then you two might have been dragged into it…”

The bearded man clicked his tongue, “Chen Ping’an, dragged into it? I’m a big man, are you also lusting after beauty? I think Zhang Shanfeng has some good looks. I’ll help him buy a set of women’s clothes in the small town later, and then let him wander around by the waterfall. Maybe he can be Cupid and bring you a beautiful marriage…”

Chen Ping’an was drinking wine and almost spat it out.

Zhang Shanfeng looked disgusted and quickly got up and moved away from the two of them, indignant, “Rabbits don’t eat the grass near their burrow. You’re even going after your own brothers. That’s too much.”

Chen Ping’an silently changed a stone stool and moved away from Xu Yuanxia.
The burly, bearded man stroked his thick beard. “What’s this? I’d readily take a blade for a brother, but you can’t even wear a woman’s dress? Is that how you define brotherhood, lacking loyalty?”

Zhang Shanfeng clasped his fists in a gesture of supplication, retreating as he spoke, “This humble Daoist must return inside to study the scriptures. You two enjoy your righteousness.”

Xu Yuanxia burst into hearty laughter.

Chen Ping’an smiled knowingly.

As luck would have it, old steward Chu from outside the courtyard personally arrived with four jars of fine wine, placing them down and leaving. The old man was becoming increasingly amiable towards Chen Ping’an.

Zhang Shanfeng actually didn’t enjoy alcohol, so Chen Ping’an was about to split the wine evenly with Xu Yuanxia, two jars each. Xu Yuanxia hesitated for a moment, then smiled and shook her head, “One jar is enough for me. Chen Ping’an, you take three jars.”

Chen Ping’an was somewhat puzzled.

Xu Yuanxia glanced around, making sure nothing seemed amiss, then pointed to the vermillion gourd hanging at Chen Ping’an’s waist and softly chuckled, “Do you really think I can’t see through the slightest of clues? Have I roamed the Jianghu for most of my life for nothing? I just didn’t want to bring it up earlier, much like how Zhang Shanfeng calls himself Zhang Shan. Who ventures into the Jianghu without a few secrets? That gourd of yours, it’s either a legendary immortal’s spatial artifact, or an even more precious Sword-Nurturing Gourd, am I right?”

The burly man pointed at his own eyes. “Already have eyes like torches!”

Chen Ping’an didn’t deny it, and quietly said, “I apologize for keeping it hidden for so long.”

Xu Yuanxia rolled her eyes. “Nonsense. What’s there to be sorry about? If you’re not careful in the Jianghu, then you’re truly letting your friends down.”

At this point, the burly man looked dejected. He opened a jar of the long-sealed manor’s fine wine, filled his ordinary wine pot, and shook it after filling it. “This isn’t just polite talk. I’ve suffered greatly before.”

Xu Yuanxia took large gulps of wine. There was still more than half a jar left anyway, enough to drink her fill before collapsing!

Seeing the man’s gloomy mood, Chen Ping’an said nothing, accompanying Xu Yuanxia in drinking. However, he drank slowly, while the man drank like a thirsty ox.

Xu Yuanxia finished a pot of wine in one breath, her beard covered in wine. She casually wiped it away and asked with a smile, “If you fill your gourd with the same wine, will the taste be different?”

Chen Ping’an smiled and tossed it to the burly man. “Try it yourself and see.”

Xu Yuanxia held the Sword-Nurturing Gourd high, tilted her head back, and took a large gulp. After tossing it back to Chen Ping’an, she exclaimed, “It is a little better!”

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “Rubbish! The wine currently in my gourd is still the cheapest stuff I bought from the small town. How could it compare to the manor’s twenty-year-old aged rice wine?”

Xu Yuanxia was already a bit tipsy, her face flushed. She stood up, swaying, and walked towards her room, planning to sleep it off. Turning her head, she grinned and said, “Wine from a future Great Swordsman can’t be bad, can it? It’s delicious!”

Xu Yuanxia turned her head, her footsteps faltering, shaking her head and muttering to herself, “I, Xu Yuanxia, will be able to brag about this boast for the rest of my life!”