The child, with a pale face and dressed in plain white, paused for a full circle of thought before continuing to follow the adult, their figures vanishing into the depths of the alley.

Chen Ping’an remained unfazed, ceasing his observation of the eerie scene. He glanced at the demon-suppressing talisman affixed to the gate, a simple yellow paper charm, not too costly to use. Despite the torrential rain that had soaked the gate, the talisman adhered firmly to the wood the moment Chen Ping’an placed it there.

Painted on the gate were the two most common figures of martial gods, popular in the common quarters, whether saints of martial temples enjoying incense offerings in Tongye Continent or meritorious generals from the history of Chenxiang Kingdom.

With the year already more than half gone, the painted door gods had faded considerably from sun, wind, and rain. Their colors were dull, bearing a hint of decay and decline.

Since entering the fourth realm of martial arts, Chen Ping’an possessed robust qi and blood, a resilient soul. His perception of the world had undergone subtle changes, akin to a qi refiner’s ability to sense the flow of spiritual energy. This was especially true when wearing the Jinli robe, the extent of its spiritual absorption served as a valuable verification.

Looking up at the seemingly bright-armored, dignified door gods, Chen Ping’an saw that their divine light had long since faded into the river of time, gradually devoured and worn away by the yin energy of this strange alley.

Was this not a case of heroes meeting an untimely end?

Chen Ping’an sighed. He tiptoed and smoothed out a small wrinkle on the talisman with his finger. How many pairs of painted door gods could be bought with the market value of a single Treasure Pagoda Demon-Suppressing Talisman? The thought irked him. He understood the general intentions of those mischievous spirits: a display of power, hoping that he and Lu Tai, two outsiders brimming with yang energy, would understand the hint and leave this place early, each going their separate ways.

Chen Ping’an walked into the courtyard, closing and bolting the gate. Since Lu Tai was awake, he was wide awake. Like Chen Ping’an, he carried a chair and sat by the door. Without Chen Ping’an needing to ask, Lu Tai proactively explained, “Some Yin creatures of shallow cultivation can only scare people, at best harming those commoners with weak innate yang energy. Either startling them on their night walks, taking advantage of the momentary trembling of their souls to steal a bit of it, or preying on the nightmares of folks from homes with ancestors who lacked virtue and door gods who lost their power, engaging in the act of ghost-pressing. Oh, and there are those who bring trouble upon themselves, violating taboos by urinating at the crossroads of ghost roads haunted by wandering Yin entities.”

Lu Tai took out his bamboo fan and fanned it briskly. The courtyard, previously damp, suddenly felt warmer and gentler. Wisps of gray smoke rose from the rainwater, dissipating quickly.

Lu Tai chuckled, “These ghosts are ignorant, just like the living people of Flying Eagle Fort. They can’t see through our depths at all. What a waste of that demon-suppressing talisman. If it had been painted by a Zhang family Celestial Master or a high-ranking Dharma Master from the Lingbao School, given the material you use…”

Lu Tai paused, deliberately rubbing salt in Chen Ping’an’s wounds, “Just one talisman pasted on the front gate of Flying Eagle Fort would be enough to protect those several hundred people for at least three to five years, preventing them from being harassed by Yin entities. Unlike you, a novice, relying solely on a pure burst of true qi into the talisman, you’re destined to fail to connect it with the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. This talisman is like water without a source, so how long can its glory last?”

Chen Ping’an sat on the opposite chair. “Why didn’t you show yourself earlier?”

Lu Tai smiled subtly. “What would I show myself for? Chat with them, discuss the local customs? Ask them how they arranged the order of appearances to scare you? How they turned the rain into blood? I can only earnestly tell them that their methods of scaring people are simply not good enough. I might not be able to resist teaching them a few tricks of the trade…”

As Lu Tai’s words became increasingly outrageous, Chen Ping’an raised his wine gourd and pointed towards the door, signaling that Lu Tai could go out and get acquainted with them.

Lu Tai remained seated, unmoved, and snapped his folding fan shut. “Since I was young, I’ve enjoyed interacting with the demons and spirits kept in my family. You could even say we were together day and night. I’ve long been accustomed to it. If it weren’t for you, Chen Ping’an, finding them annoying, with them wandering around outside, I would only sleep more soundly and sweetly.”

Chen Ping’an asked, puzzled, “You disciples of the Yin Yang school don’t have to be wary of this?”

Lu Tai looked up at the rain, and said softly, “Without approaching evil, one cannot know good.”

Chen Ping’an asked curiously, “Is there a true powerful ghost hidden in Flying Eagle Fort?”

Lu Tai nodded. “Otherwise, why would I say it was a feng shui treasure land for framing others before the fight?”

Chen Ping’an nodded, remembering the incident clearly.

Lu Tai leaned back with his hands behind his head, his wide sleeves drooping. “If the two of us kicked the bucket and became doomed lovers in the deep mountains and forests, do you think anyone would believe we were framed by the martial arts brutes of Flying Eagle Fort? Naturally, we’d frame the nest of Yin ghosts here.”

Chen Ping’an’s heart stirred, and he suddenly stood up and walked towards the gate.

A sound came from the alley outside the courtyard, and the demon-suppressing talisman on the gate flared with golden light, vanishing in an instant.

Lu Tai turned his head and smiled. “No need to go. Those ghosts won’t give up until they suffer a bit to remember the lesson. Now that they’ve learned, they should keep us at a respectful distance. It’ll be hard for me to hear those moving celestial sounds again, to get a good night’s sleep.”

Chen Ping’an opened the courtyard gate, stepped over the threshold, and looked up at the Treasure Pagoda Demon-Suppressing Talisman. Apart from a faint smudge, the talisman showed no signs of a broken talisman core or flickering spiritual light. The ghost who came to test the talisman, as Lu Tai said, was indeed not highly cultivated.

Chen Ping’an returned to the courtyard, determined that if they dared to provoke him again, he wouldn’t mind being a bad neighbor.

Lu Tai clasped his hands behind his head and said, “This Tongye Continent is a very conservative place, not fond of outsiders from other continents. If it were here, Tianjun Xie Shi of Julu Continent would have been beaten half to death already. Unlike your Baoping Continent, where you can still sit down politely, drink tea, reason, and bargain.”

Chen Ping’an rubbed the mud off the soles of his boots on the steps, thought for a moment, and slowly said, “Baoping Continent is too close to Julu Continent, and the relationship between Great Li and Xie Shi is also very mysterious. It’s all related, not just a matter of the local customs and culture of one continent. What do you think, Lu Tai?”
Lu Tai clicked his tongue in admiration, “Not bad, not bad, Chen Ping’an, you’re increasingly able to view matters from a higher perspective. Truly worthy of someone who has roamed the Inverted Mountain and the Sword Qi Great Wall.”

Chen Ping’an prepared to move the chair back into the house when Lu Tai suddenly said, “Chen Ping’an, if we include Ma Wanfa, they wouldn’t find it difficult to deal with even one and a half Golden Core cultivators. The fact that we two were able to win that fight is actually quite remarkable.”

Chen Ping’an stood beside the chair and asked, “If the two of us faced a Golden Core Qi Refiner, would we have a chance of winning?”

“We would, but the odds wouldn’t be great.”

Lu Tai smiled, “Every Golden Core cultivator is almost invariably a person of unwavering resolve, and their magical techniques and divine abilities are endless. So, we either have to fight them to the death, or we’ll be slowly whittled away until we die. You should know that the ninth realm of Qi Refiners, the Golden Core Realm, and the seventh realm of pure martial artists, together with the realms before them, are said to be world-shaking transformations.”

Chen Ping’an sat back down in the chair and shook his head, “Actually, I don’t know much about it. Can you elaborate?”

Lu Tai’s eyes lit up, “If I explain all this to you, can you give me a hundred fewer Snowflake Coins during the official division of spoils next time?”

Chen Ping’an was amused, “You actually care about a hundred Snowflake Coins?”

Lu Tai laughed heartily, “Of course I don’t care about Snowflake Coins. I just enjoy the feeling of getting a bargain.”

Chen Ping’an extended a hand, signaling that Lu Tai could start earning his money.

Lu Tai was in high spirits. He kicked off his boots, sat cross-legged on the chair, and smiled, “The pure martial artist advancing from the sixth to the seventh realm is hailed as ‘Earth-Shattering.’ Besides the fact that the seventh realm, the Wind Riding Realm, allows martial artists to travel far distances riding the wind like immortals, it also involves the unification of the soul, spirit, and courage, revealing a completely different world before their eyes.”

“As for Qi Refiners ascending to the Golden Core Realm, the saying ‘Forming a Golden Core, one becomes one of us’ has been repeated so often it’s practically a golden rule. The true mystery lies in the fact that before forming the Golden Core, a cultivator’s use of magical techniques and divine abilities is greatly bottlenecked. By counting how many mansions one has opened up in their inner world, one can roughly estimate the total amount of spiritual energy stored. Fighting others is like you, Chen Ping’an, wanting to spend money, needing to be frugal.”

“But after forming the Golden Core, a cultivator’s storage of spiritual energy is not limited to the number of mansions they possess. It’s like a wealthy person building an ice cellar, allowing them to enjoy ice even in the sweltering heat. More importantly, they can also temporarily borrow spiritual energy from the heavens and earth. The Longevity Bridge, the Longevity Bridge, what exactly is it? Besides embarking on the path of cultivation, it’s also about being able to connect with the heavens and earth, one’s own small blessed land, connected to the great blessed land of heaven and earth.”

Chen Ping’an listened attentively and earnestly.

Lu Tai asked with a smile, “So, it’s not strange that the two of us, despite killing so many of Ma Wanfa’s men, might not be able to defeat a single Golden Core cultivator, right?”

Chen Ping’an nodded, “I understand now.”

Lu Tai looked at him with a bewildered expression, “Didn’t the people who taught you boxing, swordsmanship, and talismans tell you any of this?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head, “They didn’t teach me these things. The old man who taught me boxing only taught me…”

Chen Ping’an stood up and gently threw a punch towards the rain, “To be able to send the rain back ten, a hundred zhang with a casual punch.”

Chen Ping’an retracted his fist and gently twisted his wrist, as if wielding a brush to draw talismans, “To let the true essence of talismans flow from the tip of the brush, a point of righteous Qi, a thousand miles of joyous wind.”

Chen Ping’an then made a gesture of holding a long sword and lightly waved it forward, “The vast world is full of wonders, I only have one sword.”

Lu Tai stared blankly at the white-robed youth under the eaves across from him, who was so different from usual.

Lu Tai curled up on the chair, his hands in his sleeves, speechless for a long time.

Chen Ping’an grinned, picked up the chair, and scurried back into the house, closing the door to sleep.

Lu Tai asked seriously, “Chen Ping’an, among the three, if you could only choose one, which would you choose?”

Chen Ping’an was stunned. He had never thought about this question. After pondering for a moment, he replied, “Practicing boxing in the beginning was to prolong my life, so it can be considered the foundation upon which I stand. I will continue to practice boxing in the future. If I live long enough, I hope to throw ten million punches. Of course, during this time, I must reach the seventh realm of martial arts. As for drawing talismans, it’s just a means of self-preservation. I won’t delve too deeply into it; I’ll let it happen naturally. The thing I truly want to go far with is…”

Chen Ping’an raised his thumb and pointed at the sword behind him, “It’s sword practice.”

Chen Ping’an’s expression was calm and his eyes were firm. “I want to become a Sword Immortal, a Great Sword Immortal!”

Lu Tai tilted his head, “What’s the point?”

Chen Ping’an chuckled, not saying anything, carried the chair, and scurried back into the house, closing the door to sleep.

Lu Tai rolled his eyes. Having lost his sleepiness, he aimlessly hummed a local ditty, then simply stood up and danced slowly on the chair, his sleeves swirling like flowing water. Afterwards, he sat back in the chair, yawning and fanning himself. Sometimes, he would use his fingers to make calculations and predict his fortune, and other times, he would rest his head on the armrest of the chair, rolling his eyes and sticking out his tongue to pretend to be a hanged ghost…

He just endured it until dawn.

Chen Ping’an woke up on time, first opened the door to retrieve the Demon-Suppressing Talisman, and then walked back and forth under the eaves, practicing boxing.

Lu Tai glanced at Chen Ping’an’s boots, “I’ll find you a pair of boots worn by us immortals later, so you won’t have to worry about rainy and snowy weather anymore. More expensive ones are even waterproof and fireproof.”

Chen Ping’an said grumpily, “What’s the point of having that stuff? When fighting people, I’d have to worry about whether the boots will break, which is a nuisance and adds another worry.”

Lu Tai sighed, “You just don’t have the fate to enjoy life.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Did anything strange happen behind the house last night?”

Lu Tai nodded, “There was, actually. It seems someone from Flying Eagle Fort encountered a ghost. It wasn’t too far from here. The two sides fought fiercely, and it was quite bloody, but no one died.”

Chen Ping’an thought for a moment, “Then let’s take a walk around during the day and see if we can find out the truth. After we have a clear understanding, we can decide whether or not to take action.”

Lu Tai didn’t care one way or the other.

Feng Shui, geomancy, dragon vein searching, divination, medicine, astrology, he was quite proficient in all of them. There was nothing he could do; it was a gift from his ancestors. Even if he didn’t study hard and was always trying to find ways to be lazy, he was still far ahead of his peers. This annoyed him greatly.

Lu Tai’s few words, spoken casually, summarized a bloody battle.

In reality, for those involved at the time, it was far from being so easy.

In the rain last night, a young man with a saber at his waist and dressed in black, and a wandering Daoist who had traveled here, journeyed together at night, their expressions beneath their bamboo hats, one of generous acceptance of death, the other of anxious concern.
As the torrential rain subsided into a gentle drizzle, the two men turned into a narrow alley, arriving before a dilapidated, long-abandoned dwelling.

The young Daoist, clad in a straw raincoat, appeared pale. “The baleful aura tonight is exceptionally potent!”

The other man, his skin bronzed and calloused, clutched a plain, unadorned dao. Lowering his voice, he gritted his teeth and said, “If we delay any longer, who knows how many more innocent lives will be lost? We can’t afford to wait!”

This lane held few residents, only a scattering of three or four households, mostly aged and solitary elders, rarely communicating with the outside world. Among the Flying Eagle Stronghold’s martial disciples, a test of courage in their youth was to see who dared walk alone through this narrow, gloomy alleyway in the dead of night.

It was said that a bloody battle had once been fought in this lane. Before the Flying Eagle Stronghold receded from the martial world, a band of treacherous enemies infiltrated the stronghold while the old master had just passed. Each of them stained their hands with blood, figures being either experts of the Demonic Sect or grandmasters of the heretical path – all Jianghu scoundrels once crippled or wounded by the old master.

They inadvertently leaked information, and the well-prepared Flying Eagle Stronghold trapped them like turtles in a jar, cornering them in this alley. In that fierce clash, blood flowed freely, with heads rolling from both sides. There were the skulls of villainous men, as well as the craniums of the Flying Eagle Stronghold’s elders. Limbs and severed bodies were everywhere; it was said that none of those who collected the corpses from Flying Eagle Stronghold could stomach the sight.

The Flying Eagle Stronghold was a martial arts faction whose ancestors were once prominent but had since fallen on hard times. It boasted a century of glorious history. Among the older generation of Jianghu figures in Chenxiang Country, even though the Huan family had been quiet for decades, its reputation remained considerable, especially that of the late Master Huan. He was respected and influential, a renowned Jianghu hero known throughout the government and the martial world.

Unfortunately, the current master, Huan Yang, possessed only mediocre martial talent, failing to uphold the Flying Eagle Stronghold’s prestige. Huan Chang was still young, leading to the current dismal situation of a generational gap.

However, a simple glance through the annals of history revealed countless achievements that the Flying Eagle Stronghold could boast about from two generations before Master Huan.

Therefore, the entire Flying Eagle Stronghold, comprising over four hundred people, held themselves in high esteem.

Despite being secluded in a corner, the Flying Eagle Stronghold could hardly be considered ignorant.

Almost everyone had heard countless legendary tales of the Flying Eagle Stronghold since childhood. Master Huan was one of the four grandmasters of Chenxiang Country.

Three of Master Huan’s close friends from his Jianghu days were still among the top ten experts.

As for the Old Matriarch, legends said she was a princess of a fallen dynasty from a neighboring kingdom, fleeing to the Jianghu, where she was rescued by Master Huan. It was love at first sight, filled with trials and tribulations, but they ultimately came together, becoming a celebrated romance in the martial world.

The young master, Huan Chang, had displayed exceptional martial talent since childhood, possessing astonishing natural strength. For over a decade, he sought guidance from great heroes and sparred with young prodigies who had already made names for themselves in the martial world, showing considerable promise. The stronghold’s daughter, Huan Shu, was said to be betrothed to the eldest son of one of Chenxiang Country’s top ten experts in a childhood pact, waiting only for the young man to come and claim her.

However, the leading figure of the younger generation in the Flying Eagle Stronghold was not Huan Chang, but an outsider, Tao Xiyang. He was the direct disciple of the stronghold master, Huan Yang, having studied Confucian classics and profound skills with Head Steward He since childhood. He was even more popular than the young master, Huan Chang.

Tao Xiyang was a righteous and warm-hearted man, well-regarded within the Flying Eagle Stronghold. He had a cheerful disposition, seemingly unafraid even if the sky were to fall.

The leader of a group that had recently entered the stronghold was a renowned Jianghu hero, and among them was a beautiful woman known as a fairy, who shared a close relationship with Tao Xiyang. They often traveled together within and outside the stronghold, and she could smile radiantly even while drinking the cheapest wine from the streets with Tao Xiyang.

In recent years, Tao Xiyang had begun assisting the stronghold master and Steward He Ya in managing the affairs of the Flying Eagle Stronghold, gaining access to many secrets. His days were not easy.

He needed to be impeccable in dealing with guests from all directions, ensuring that the legacy passed down from the Flying Eagle Stronghold’s ancestors would not fade away silently. He had to secretly continue these relationships. Running to the capital, visiting famous orthodox sects on the mountains, traveling to powerful gangs in large cities, sending silver to wealthy officials, and cultivating relationships with local strongmen in the prefecture city—all required Tao Xiyang, an outsider, to handle. Therefore, Tao Xiyang possessed exceptional Jianghu knowledge and experience.

The swordsman who had come to this alley tonight was none other than Tao Xiyang.

And the young Daoist accompanying him was Tao Xiyang’s close friend from the Jianghu, a kindred spirit. Tao Xiyang knew some of the young Daoist’s secrets: that he could see those unclean things and possessed some unheard-of methods of suppression. Upon receiving Tao Xiyang’s urgent plea for help, the Daoist had come to the Flying Eagle Stronghold without hesitation. After careful investigation, the young Daoist grew increasingly grave. Just as Tao Xiyang had described in his letter, the Flying Eagle Stronghold was indeed haunted by a malicious entity, one of great power, which had directly damaged the stronghold’s fundamental feng shui.

The young Daoist knew his limitations. He was never a true mountain recluse, having studied Daoist practices with his wandering master for only five years. He had only learned some superficial skills of aura observation and talisman drawing, and the talismans he drew were sometimes effective, sometimes not. The copper coin sword on his back, strung with forty-nine coins, had never had the opportunity to be used. He had no idea if it could truly suppress evil and vanquish demons.

The young Daoist’s name was Huang Shang, a scion of a scholar-official family who had given up on the imperial examinations. He had been practicing Daoist arts for nearly five years, but still hadn’t mastered talisman drawing. His master, who taught him, was away traveling most of the time. Huang Shang had spent almost all his savings to assemble that copper coin sword made of “San Tong Bao” coins from the previous dynasty—Shen Ce, Yuan Guang, and Zheng De. His master had said that these three types of copper coins, inscribed with the Nine-Stacked Seal script, contained the most potent Yang energy.

As for the talismans Huang Shang drew, they were of poor quality, so he could only compensate with quantity.

Tasking such a mediocre Daoist with confronting the sinister spirits of the Flying Eagle Stronghold was truly a daunting task. However, his unbreakable bond of brotherhood with Tao Xiyang, driven by loyalty, meant that he couldn’t stand by and watch his brother meet an untimely demise here.

Their brotherhood was not the kind of fleeting camaraderie found among Jianghu heroes over wine, but a bond where they would give their lives for each other.

Before its abandonment, the owner of this residence must have been quite wealthy. The threshold was quite high, and the gate was made of fine cypress wood, adorned with beast-face knockers, ancient and profound.
The Daoist, Huang Shang, produced a yellow paper talisman from his sleeve. Looking at the rain-soaked gate and high walls, he sighed, “The heavens and earth are not on our side.”

The swordsman, Tao Xieyang, grunted in agreement, his gaze fixed on the gate. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade. Suddenly, he turned and clapped the Daoist on the shoulder, “I’ll go first. If things get dire, and you can’t save me, don’t bother. Just find me a good burial plot!”

Huang Shang was about to speak.

Tao Xieyang grinned, his smile bright. “I’m not being polite! If we both die here, we’ll be fighting for drinks down below!”

Tao Xieyang withdrew his hand, gathered his Qi in his Dantian, and slashed at the gate, “Open for me!”

The force of the blade was fierce, splitting the gate open. Tao Xieyang strode inside, resolute.

His footsteps were heavy, as if he were sinking into mud. Undaunted, Tao Xieyang let out a shout and swung his blade forward, slashing at the empty air. The blade flashed, emitting a faint glow, a sign that he had glimpsed the path of martial transcendence.

Tao Xieyang used his blade to clear the way, moving straight ahead.

The two “Gentleman’s Talismans” hidden in his chest and at his waist instantly blackened, as if dyed with ink. Their meager spiritual energy vanished completely.

Huang Shang was about to follow, but a gust of Yin wind rushed out from the gate. He had to find two slightly dry spots on the inner wall of the gate and stick two warding talismans. Only then did he feel slightly better, his breathing no longer constricted. He then held a talisman in each hand, the “Radiant Sovereign’s Sword Talisman” and the “Yellow God’s Seal Talisman,” both famous protective talismans passed down from ancient times and widely circulated.

But after only three steps, Huang Shang realized that the sword and seal talismans had turned mostly black, like two talismans freshly pulled from an inkstone. The young Daoist was shocked and cried out, “The baleful Qi is as thick as water! The specter here is definitely not a vengeful spirit that died in the alley! It must be a fierce ghost that has been wandering for centuries! Xieyang, retreat from the house at once…”

But the front door of the main house opened on its own, and Tao Xieyang strode inside. The door slammed shut behind him.

Huang Shang’s face was filled with grief. He desperately poured his faint spiritual energy into the two failing talismans, roaring, “Transfer calamity, remove blame!”

The sword talisman remained motionless, soaked in the ink formed from the house’s concentrated baleful Qi. The fingers holding the talisman felt as if they were burning, and Huang Shang quickly threw it away.

Fortunately, the seal talisman pulsed with spiritual light, suddenly illuminating the surrounding anomalies.

The talisman suddenly ignited, burning fiercely. The yellow paper was rapidly consumed, emitting a pungent smoke.

Around Huang Shang, eerie giggling sounds rose and fell, but no figures could be seen.

His neck felt as if a cold, long tongue had licked it, giving the young Daoist goosebumps.

Huang Shang threw away the burned seal talisman and was about to pull out another trump card talisman from his sleeve.

As his left hand reached into his sleeve, the back of his hand felt as if it had been pricked by a needle. Huang Shang shivered. An inexplicable rain began to fall, and Huang Shang looked around. It was a light drizzle. The young Daoist blankly raised his hand and wiped his face, only to see that it was covered in blood.

The next moment, Huang Shang instinctively looked up.

A pale face without eyeballs was inches away, almost touching Huang Shang’s nose.

Huang Shang stood frozen.

In an instant, someone grabbed his shoulders and yanked him backward. Huang Shang flew out of the house, landing in the muddy alley, dazed.

He saw a familiar, tall and thin figure, it was the old steward of Flying Eagle Fortress, He Ya, Tao Xieyang’s master.

The old man held talismans in both hands. The paper didn’t seem to be ordinary talisman paper. It shimmered and was translucent. Though the light fluttered in the Yin wind and baleful rain, like two candles in a storm, the spiritual light of the talismans remained steady.

The old steward stepped in accordance to the Dipper pattern, chanting incantations.

Huang Shang had just breathed a sigh of relief when snowy white hands with extremely long fingernails grabbed his neck, yanking him backward. The young Daoist flailed his hands in the muddy ground, to no avail. The back of his head and back slammed heavily against the wall of the narrow alley, as if someone was seeping into the wall and wanted Huang Shang, the living man, to enter with them.

Huang Shang’s eyes rolled back, and he fainted.

When the young Daoist regained consciousness, he was back in his room in the main building of Flying Eagle Fortress, next to Tao Xieyang’s residence.

Huang Shang swayed as he got out of bed and saw old Mr. He walking out of the room with a grave expression.

He Ya sighed, “Xieyang’s body is not seriously injured, but…”

The old man didn’t continue.

He Ya had wanted to say a few words to Huang Shang, that he shouldn’t have been so rash and accompanied Tao Xieyang in trespassing into that alley.

But looking at the young Daoist’s panic, especially the black, ink-like scratch marks on his neck, which hadn’t faded even after a night, the old man felt a little pity. He sighed and left quickly to brew a tonic to help his disciple strengthen his foundation.

Huang Shang reached out several times to push the door open, but withdrew his hand, looking dejected.

Tonight, Chen Ping’an and Lu Tai were going to the Huan family’s mansion for a banquet.

With half an hour left before the banquet, the two had spent the day wandering around, visiting the streets, wells, Huan clan’s ancestral hall, training grounds, the execution platform of Flying Eagle Fortress and other places.

Lu Tai observed the various door gods on the doors of each household, while Chen Ping’an would occasionally squat down, silently pinch a small handful of soil, and put it in his mouth to chew.

Back in the courtyard, Chen Ping’an suddenly remembered something, “Did Steward He have his own agenda when he let us into Flying Eagle Fortress, especially arranging for us to stay here?”

Lu Tai nodded, “A scheme to use wolves to drive away tigers. Flying Eagle Fortress is probably at its wit’s end, treating a dead horse as if it were still alive. It’s likely that at tonight’s banquet, if we tear off our masks and question them about this matter, Flying Eagle Fortress will have to be frank, no more than apologizing, compensating, and then throwing money at us to help them overcome their difficulties.”

Chen Ping’an sighed. If the two of them had low cultivation and couldn’t defeat those wandering ghosts, would they have died violently in that house last night, their bodies wrapped in two straw mats and thrown out of Flying Eagle Fortress?

Lu Tai seemed to see through Chen Ping’an’s thoughts and smiled, “Are you lamenting the dangers of the Jianghu? Have you ever thought that Flying Eagle Fortress and He Ya might have their own unspeakable secrets? After hearing their grievances, you might be filled with righteous indignation and step forward bravely.”
Chen Ping’an shook his head gently and said, “There is a sequence to events, a difference between right and wrong, a prioritization of what is important. The order must not be disrupted. Only then can one weigh the relative importance, define good and evil, and finally choose how to approach a matter.”

Lu Tai chuckled, “Sounds simple, but it’s not easy to put into practice.”

Chen Ping’an hummed in agreement, “Indeed, exceedingly difficult.”

Before long, Huan Chang and Huan Shu, brother and sister, arrived together. Today, Huan Shu had changed into a warm yellow dress, standing tall and graceful. Huan Chang was still dressed as before, but had removed his horn bow.

Prior to this, Lu Tai had asked Chen Ping’an if he wanted to give Flying Eagle Stronghold and Huan Shu a surprise. Before Lu Tai could finish, Chen Ping’an’s face darkened, and he slapped his Sword-Nourishing Gourd. Lu Tai immediately shut his mouth, clasped his hands together, and made a gesture of pleading for mercy.

In the distance, on the railing of a tall building, a woman in good spirits radiated beauty, her smile gentle. Last night, she had heard some intimate words from her daughter, saying that a handsome young man from out of town was coming to visit with friends today, and she wanted her, as the mother, to help assess him.

The woman found it amusing and agreed.

As for the childish betrothal arrangement from years ago, let alone that Flying Eagle Stronghold no longer took it seriously, the other party hoped it had never happened at all, so as not to be burdened by the struggling Flying Eagle Stronghold.

The virtuous woman thought of the day when her daughter, like her, would wear the most beautiful scarlet wedding gown at the best time of her life, and marry the person she loved most. The woman felt both gratified and a little melancholic.

The woman’s eyes turned red, and she lowered her head slightly, took out an embroidered handkerchief, and gently wiped the corners of her eyes.

Unbeknownst to the woman, and unseen by anyone in Flying Eagle Stronghold, countless cracks appeared on her face, which was bleeding from all seven orifices, crisscrossing like a porcelain vase on the verge of shattering.