The morning sun spilled into the tavern, the old proprietor whistling, teasing the caged sparrow. The little bird, aloof as a mountain fairy, only spurred the old man on, showing off his skills, his whistling as smooth as silk.

The young shop assistant was diligently cleaning the place, making the already spotless tables and chairs even more pristine. He would occasionally breathe on them, then carefully wipe them with his sleeve, his whole being radiating contentment.

It seemed that for this wine-peddling youth in Upside-Down Mountain, tidying up this space was the greatest happiness in the world.

Chen Ping’an, slumped on a wine table, slowly awoke. There was no pounding headache from being utterly drunk, only a dazed, blank feeling as he sat there, trying in vain to recall what had happened the night before. He couldn’t remember a thing, only that he had agreed to drink the “Forget-Worry Wine,” rare even for Jade Pure Realm cultivators, with a certain couple. Who the couple were, what they had talked about, when they had left, all gone.

He’d thought it was called Forget-Worry Wine, so what had he forgotten?

Instead, Chen Ping’an felt more troubled than ever, a faint sadness lingering in his heart, impossible to shake off.

Like when dawn was breaking, a yellow oriole would perch on the mud-brick window of his ancestral home in Mud Bottle Alley, chirping noisily, disturbing his dreams, yet he couldn’t bear to chase it away.

Chen Ping’an looked around, seeing the diligently working young assistant and the leisurely old proprietor.

Chen Ping’an tentatively asked, “The bill?”

The young assistant, squatting on the ground and wiping a table leg, grinned but said nothing.

The old man chuckled, “You drank four jars in total, three of which were on the house. You really only need to pay for the remaining one.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “How much?”

The old man laughed heartily, “Money? If you really had to buy a jar of Yellow Millet Wine with money, it would be quite a lot.”

The young assistant, called Xu Jia by the proprietor, chuckled, “Last night, a young master from Glittering Continent, having heard the fame, came to buy a jar of Forget-Worry Wine to take home. The proprietor wouldn’t sell, saying it wasn’t about money. The young master wouldn’t give up, insisting on knowing the price. When he heard the price, he was stunned. He’s been sitting on the steps outside the door all night, probably still not giving up.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Liu Youzhou?”

The old man nodded, “That’s the little fellow, the future head of the Liu clan of Glittering Continent, known as the Treasure Boy. He carries a spatial artifact filled with magical treasures. Because of Ape’s Brawl Mansion, everyone in Upside-Down Mountain knows the name of this wealthy young master. He once adventured in Central Azure Continent with six others, encountering a powerful foe. The little fellow brought out seven top-grade offensive magical treasures in one breath, then protected himself like a turtle in a shell. Never mind any Sage’s true name talismans, he wore two layers of Divine Dew Armor alone. The seven others, relying on this, managed to beat a Nether Earth Immortal monster two realms above them to death.”

Clearly, in the old proprietor’s eyes, this little fellow was worth a few extra words. He chuckled, “Such an interesting little fellow, even I almost couldn’t resist giving him a bowl of Yellow Millet Wine to drink.”

Chen Ping’an was somewhat embarrassed. How afraid of death was Liu Youzhou?

Chen Ping’an was a little apprehensive, “Old Sir, how do I settle the bill?”

The old man thought for a moment, “Haven’t figured out how to charge you yet. I’ll find you when I remember.”

Chen Ping’an’s heart immediately rose and fell.

The old man laughed, “It’s also possible that you’ll live out your whole life, and I still won’t remember, so don’t worry.”

Chen Ping’an breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Chen Ping’an was about to leave the tavern when the old man asked, “Boy, there’s still half a jar of Yellow Millet Wine left. Won’t you finish it before you go?”

Chen Ping’an reached out and shook the wine jar. Sure enough, there was still half a jar left. He asked doubtfully, “Can’t I take it with me?”

The old man shook his head, “If you take it, you won’t forget your worries. It’s worse than ordinary wine, a waste of good things. I advise you not to do something so foolish. This wine has a little secret. Actually, for that couple to have you drink it now is already a great waste. The later you drink it, the better. But it’s difficult to have the ‘best’ in this world. Accept what you have, and anything good will do.”

Chen Ping’an then sat down again, curiously asking, “Isn’t it called Forget-Worry Wine? Why does the proprietor often call it Yellow Millet Wine?”

The young man named Xu Jia widened his eyes, looking as if he had seen a ghost in broad daylight, “Don’t you know where this is?”

Chen Ping’an was even more puzzled, “Isn’t this Upside-Down Mountain?”

Xu Jia grinned, “Then you should have heard of Yellow Millet Blessed Land, right?”

Chen Ping’an still shook his head.

The old man helped Chen Ping’an out of the awkward situation, “It’s normal that you don’t know. This blessed land has the same fate as your hometown’s Carmine Pearl Small Grotto-Heaven. It’s destroyed.”

Xu Jia quickly dropped his rag, eagerly saying, “Proprietor, Proprietor, let me tell it next. Miss said I look especially handsome when I talk about this part.”

The old man chuckled, “Either my daughter is blind, or she was drunk and talking nonsense. Which possibility do you think is more likely?”

“Miss is doing great!”

Xu Jia cleared his throat, moistened his lips, and said solemnly, “Now, this Yellow Millet Blessed Land only has a bit of ruins left. Back when the Yellow Millet Blessed Land was at its peak, all the disheartened people in the world would have to take a trip there. It was very lively, with beautiful women, beautiful scenery, beautiful wine, and beautiful dreams. This blessed land had it all, and guaranteed it would suit your heart’s desire, which was the most rare thing. It could also reflect a person’s Dao Heart. Many Jade Pure Realm cultivators who barely made it into the Upper Five Realms, who had initially broken through by luck, actually used many Hundred Schools secret techniques and unorthodox methods. So they would make a special trip to this Upside-Down Mountain shop, first peel off a soul and a spirit to stay clear-headed, then drink a jar of Forget-Worry Wine, revealing their true feelings, taking this opportunity to see everything clearly, either unraveling threads or plugging gaps…”

Xu Jia was speaking with great expression when the old man impatiently interrupted, “Enough, enough! You’re flipping through an old almanac over and over, aren’t you afraid you’ll wear it out? In short, now the Yellow Millet Blessed Land is only the size of our shop.”

Chen Ping’an poured himself a bowl of wine, looking left and right, unable to link a blessed land with a shop.

In Treasure Bottle Continent, there was also a blessed land, Clear Pond Blessed Land, controlled by the Divine Edict Sect of the continent’s Daoist orthodoxy.

It was said that the Jiang clan of Jade Tablet Sect in Tucked Leaf Continent also controlled a Cloud Cave Blessed Land.

Chen Ping’an took a sip of the wine and asked, “Old Sir, did I cause any trouble while drunk yesterday? And where is that couple?”

The old man asked back, “Don’t you remember?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head.
The old man chuckled, “You yourself don’t remember, why should an outsider like me?”

Chen Ping’an couldn’t retort, and silently drank his wine.

He still couldn’t discern its quality.

He just found it easy to drink.

The old man remembered something and pointed to a wall, saying to Chen Ping’an, “See that wall? Anyone who can sit down and drink wine can go over there and write a poem, or even just a few words.”

Xu Jia, acting like an old man, said, “After drinking, some people just drink themselves to death and rot in the wine vat for the rest of their lives, never sobering up until they die. Others become completely sober, seeing through life, tasting the flavors of several lifetimes before their current one is even over. I think what these two types of people write would be especially interesting. Guest, would you like to give it a try?”

The old man scoffed, “Cut it out. You’re being so pretentious, my teeth are aching. A little kid like you, always trying to imitate A-Liang. Aren’t you ashamed?”

Xu Jia said with righteous confidence, “Miss likes A-Liang so much, who else would I imitate?”

The old man sighed, “Learn from me and live, resemble me and die. You’ve seen so many drunks, heard so many drunken ramblings, and you still can’t understand this simple principle?”

Xu Jia chuckled, “I’m imitating A-Liang, not you.”

The old man tossed a wine cup at him. “All you ever do is argue with me!”

Xu Jia lightly caught the cup, tossed it back to the old man, and then quickly scurried to get Chen Ping’an a brush. “Leave a little memento up there.”

Chen Ping’an put down his wine bowl and said helplessly, “My handwriting is terrible.”

Xu Jia rolled his eyes. “Could it be worse than A-Liang’s worm scribbles? Besides, even those renowned calligraphers are criticized by their peers as being like toads crushed under stones, snakes hanging from branches, generals embroidering, and old women wearing armor.”

The young boy whispered, “To tell you the truth, any character, no matter how bad, is beautiful compared to A-Liang’s! Go take a look for yourself.”

Chen Ping’an didn’t take the brush just yet but stood up and walked toward the wall. From afar, it looked like just a white wall with nothing on it, but as he approached, he saw that it was covered in poems, verses, and words of warning.

A dazzling array.

Some people’s calligraphy stood out, a cursive poem that took up a large space.

It was like a garden in full bloom, with countless flowers vying for attention, but only one peerless beauty stealing the show.

There were also some out-of-place writings. The most eye-catching was a line of large, crooked characters that even Chen Ping’an found unbearable. The content was even more speechless: “Whenever I think about how many girls are waiting for me with all their hearts, my conscience aches a little.” The end of the sentence even had a crudely drawn smiley face and a thumbs-up.

No doubt, it was A-Liang’s own handwriting. No one else would have the nerve to write such things.

Chen Ping’an stifled a laugh and turned to ask, “Old sir, you keep this too?”

The sickly-looking young waiter said, “First, A-Liang is shameless and says that erasing a single word is like paying back a jar of wine. Second, our Miss especially likes this sentence, thinking that A-Liang is praising her. Our Miss even used a jar of Yellow Millet Wine to trade with a certain family’s patriarch for a piece of ‘rouge and powder’, which is specifically about her and A-Liang… What was it called, boss?”

The old man sneered, “Tender and poignant.”

Xu Jia nodded. “Right. Actually, Miss hinted to that patriarch that the more direct and explicit the writing, the better. Later, probably because that person couldn’t bring himself to write it, he wrote it in a more subtle way. Miss was very unhappy. This time she ran away from home, calling it an elopement, and one of her goals is to find trouble with that patriarch, saying his writing is terrible and that he’s a fraud seeking fame and reputation. She’s determined to spit in his face.”

Chen Ping’an’s gaze swept across the high wall, and finally, he lowered his head and saw another small line of characters in a corner. The writing was still A-Liang’s, but it wasn’t eye-catching.

“Little, the martial world isn’t good for much, except the wine is alright.”

A-Liang had blotted out one of the characters after “Little” with a blob of ink.

Chen Ping’an asked, “Can I write anything?”

Xu Jia handed him the brush and nodded. “Anything goes, as long as it’s written in a blank space.”

The young waiter didn’t forget to remind him, “Guest, don’t write something like ‘So-and-so was here’. That’s too cliché. Even A-Liang’s shameless content is better than that.”

Chen Ping’an took the brush, suddenly turned and ran back to the wine table, took a big gulp of wine, and then returned to the wall. Squatting down, he wrote a small character after the “Little” and above the ink blot, a character meaning “Even”.

“Little Even, the martial world isn’t good for much, except the wine is alright.”

The old man teased, “The character itself isn’t very spiritual, it just follows the rules, but standing next to A-Liang’s character, it looks better. That’s called cheating. No, write something else somewhere else.”

Chen Ping’an nodded and began to look for a blank space. However, the central area of the wall was densely packed. It was possible to squeeze in, but it felt disrespectful to the previous writers. Besides, most of the people who dared to write in the middle had excellent calligraphy, full of charm. Chen Ping’an didn’t dare to write there, so he looked as far to the sides, high up, or low down as he could. Xu Jia spoke up, pointing to two places that still had a good amount of blank space, one on the upper right and one on the bottom left.

Chen Ping’an moved, squatted down on the far left, took a deep breath, and wrote three characters.

Before writing, he thought of all the sword immortals and immortal swords of Sword Worship Mountain.

So the three characters he wrote were: “Sword Qi Endures.”

Xu Jia looked at the three characters. They were proper but uninspired. The young man shook his head slightly, unimpressed, and couldn’t help but mutter, “Clearly, he hasn’t read much.”

The old man rarely agreed with the waiter, nodding and chuckling, “Also, he hasn’t had enough wine. Hey, young man from Great Li, don’t rush. First, drink a big bowl of wine, drink your fill, then write something from your heart. It’s not as difficult as you think. The three jars of wine we’re treating you to are enough for three sentences. You have one last chance.”

But Chen Ping’an had already handed the brush back to Xu Jia, smiling at the old man, “I won’t write anymore.”

The old man didn’t care. Immortal drunkards leaving calligraphy was just a trivial matter for good luck, icing on the cake. The young man couldn’t write good characters, and he wasn’t a sword immortal now. Of course, the old innkeeper wouldn’t force him.
Chen Ping’an hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Old Sir, could I perhaps reserve half of this jar of wine? I intend to make a trip to the Sword Qi Great Wall, and drink it upon my return. Would that be permissible?”

Xu Jia vigorously shook his head. “Our wine shop has no such rule! Once the clay seal of a jar of Yellow Millet Wine is broken, it must be drunk in one go. There is no reason for someone to leave and then return for another round.”

The old man pondered for a moment, then nodded. “This time, it is allowed.”

Xu Jia grew anxious and exclaimed, “Why is that?”

The old man placed the birdcage beside him, leaned against the counter, and smiled. “I favor the phrase ‘reserve it.’ It is auspicious, and carries a celebratory air.”

The moment Chen Ping’an stepped across the threshold of the wine shop, he staggered. Steadying himself, he looked back, only to find no wine shop at all – just empty space.

Within the vanished wine shop, the old man opened the birdcage. A small yellow bird with a golden beak flew out, but before it could approach the wall of writing to investigate the length of a person’s martial fortune as it was accustomed to, it quickly retreated back into the cage. Xu Jia watched, dumbfounded. The old man thought for a moment, then sighed. “Never mind. Just a young lad from a minor continent. Even if there is a hint of that destiny, what does it matter? A mere century. It’s insignificant whether we investigate or not.”

Xu Jia glared fiercely at a line of writing at the very top. Most people wrote in vertical columns from top to bottom, but recently, after Ah Liang, a female guest had written horizontally. Furthermore, afterwards, the little yellow bird had been so frightened that it flapped about wildly, taking half a day to recover, as if it had suffered a serious illness.

Xu Jia couldn’t help but complain, “It’s all that Goddess of War’s fault! Her martial fortune was too overwhelming, her aura too terrifying!”

The old man looked at the pitiable little yellow bird with affection and murmured, “You poor thing.”

In this world, there exists a pair of wondrous birds, capable of pecking at literary and martial fortune.

Legend has it that the male bird was captured by the Daoist patriarch, Lu Chen, while the female bird was raised by the Grandmaster of the School of Diverse Arts.

Chen Ping’an walked down a secluded alley.

Although the wine he had just drunk had left him somewhat befuddled, as he walked away from the shop, Chen Ping’an suddenly understood something.

Chen Ping’an took down his gourd of nurturing swords, drank the remaining osmanthus wine, and muttered to himself.

“Miss Ning… she probably truly does not like you.”

“Otherwise, back in the Li Zhu Grotto-Heaven, she had promised to give you her sword scabbard. How could she possibly pretend to forget such a thing this time?”

“Chen Ping’an, you are truly an unlucky fellow. Miss Ning’s feelings are not a matter of like or dislike, but rather, one of detest!”

Thinking this, the young man found some bitter amusement and was somewhat gratified. This journey through the Jianghu had not been in vain; he had certainly become more discerning.

However, he still decided to personally visit the Sword Qi Great Wall.

He kept telling himself that he simply wanted to see the large characters carved on the wall atop the Sword Qi Great Wall.

At worst, he would “unintentionally” encounter a certain young lady at a certain place and time. He would then smile broadly and greet her casually. However, he was unsure which opening line, “What a coincidence!” or “You’re here too!” would be more appropriate.

Chen Ping’an was thinking very carefully.

So carefully, in fact, that he didn’t notice a young woman behind him who was about to explode with anger.

She wore a long, ink-green robe.