Chen Ping’an, displaying newfound cunning, mirrored the old General Lü Xiao’s knack for playing the fool, feigning deafness to the old Daoist’s barbs. After Chen Ping’an finished his wine, the old Daoist had vanished from the courtyard.

The old Daoist was always elusive, leaving Chen Ping’an helpless.

As dawn faintly illuminated the sky, the scrawny little girl, who had been sleeping by the wood shed door, awoke. She saw the wealthy man in white robes pacing the courtyard. His eyes were closed, like a blind man, one hand open, palm up, resting on his abdomen, the other clenched into a fist at his chest. His steps were small and slow.

It seemed he was contemplating whether to strike his open palm with his fist. She idly waited, convinced he would eventually punch himself.

If only the fellow were truly blind! Then, with a single punch, *splat*, he would accidentally pierce his own hand!

The thought amused the scrawny little girl. Afraid of being discovered, she quickly adopted a serious expression and feigned a yawn.

Chen Ping’an opened his eyes, abandoning the strange pose. He had learned it from Ding Ying, imitating him clumsily. He brought it out today because he recalled encountering the vengeful ghost bride years ago. The blind old Daoist, who led his two disciples, employed thunder magic that required striking the qi-sea with a heavy blow,

Similar to Ding Ying’s method.

Chen Ping’an ignored the little girl and continued walking, immersing his entire fist intent into the perfected “Grand Stance” he gleaned from Zhong Qiu. He said, “Go check if Cao Qinglang’s school is open. If the instructor still hasn’t resumed teaching, ask the neighbors when classes will restart.”

The little girl haggled, “Can I eat breakfast first? I’m hungry, and I can’t walk on an empty stomach.”

Chen Ping’an replied calmly, “Refill the water vat in the kitchen after you return, and then you can eat.”

The little girl stared at Chen Ping’an’s profile. He didn’t seem to be joking. She grunted in acknowledgement and deliberately swayed as she rose. Hugging the wall, she skirted Chen Ping’an and left the courtyard. Once she was out of the alley, she squatted down at the street corner and waited for a long while. Then, she sprinted back to the courtyard gate, her forehead already glistening with sweat. Doubling over, hands on her hips, she gasped to the still-walking figure, “It’s not open! I asked an auntie! She said the instructor was scared witless by the previous fight and won’t be opening the school anytime soon.”

Chen Ping’an remained silent, gesturing toward the kitchen.

The little girl made a face and shuffled off to the kitchen. She picked up the smallest bucket. Luckily, the water vat still had more than half a well’s worth of water. If it were empty, she wouldn’t be willing to go even once. She tossed the bucket outside and ran. As she reached the courtyard entrance, she heard Cao Qinglang reciting his lessons. With her back to the courtyard, she rolled her eyes and bared her teeth in contempt.

Drawing water was truly exhausting.

Returning to the courtyard, carrying the water bucket in both hands, she stuck close to the wall, cautiously avoiding that person. She slipped into the kitchen. At the well, she drew less than half a bucket of water. She found it tiring and spilled a lot of it along the way. When she returned to the courtyard, the bucket held barely an inch of water at the bottom. She quickly glanced around. Seeing no one, she lifted the bucket and scooped up half a bucket of water from the vat, then struggled to lift the bucket and tipped it, pouring the water into the vat with a splash.

Chen Ping’an saw through it all, but he didn’t expose her then and there.

Would she rather expend so much effort on laziness than put in a little honest work?

After reciting several sections of elementary texts, Cao Qinglang went to the kitchen to cook. Chen Ping’an had told him that he might return very late today. Cao Qinglang nodded.

Chen Ping’an left the alley. He passed near the Scholar’s Lane, the residence where Ding Ying and the demonic Crowchild had previously stayed. It was lifeless, clearly abandoned. The incense at the Heart Image Temple was growing increasingly sparse. However, the morning exercises at the martial arts hall were even more vigorous than before. The shouts rose and fell, the teaching master’s voice especially loud. The previous battle had likely terrified the common folk, making them feel the world was unsafe, but it had also inspired the martial artists. What was a martial world without great storms?

Chen Ping’an didn’t wear the Gold Dew robe this time. He wore a brand-new azure long robe. First, the lotus infant wasn’t fully healed and still needed the robe as a small blessed land. Second, Chen Ping’an didn’t want to flaunt his wealth. He even left the sword gourd inside, letting First and Fifteenth protect the healing lotus infant. He only wore the longsword Cherished Heart and the narrow blade Halting Snow at his waist. In this manner, he looked like a roaming swordsman with a liking for blades.

Chen Ping’an was going to find Zhong Qiu, intending to trouble the Nan Yuan Grand Preceptor with another matter.

The pile of books stolen from his room by the little girl, although ordinary books – the two divine texts bought at the Upside Down Mountain were in his miniature realm – Chen Ping’an still wanted them back. On the title page of each book, he had neatly written in small, regular script where and when he had bought it. These books, gathered from everywhere, had a different meaning for Chen Ping’an.

It had nothing to do with the Confucian sages’ saying that books held houses of gold and beauties of jade.

Everyone knew that Zhong Qiu lived near the palace, but his specific secluded location was known to few. Fortunately, Chen Ping’an’s fame in Nan Yuan was now too great. Soon, a master recruited by the Nan Yuan court appeared and respectfully led Chen Ping’an to Zhong Qiu’s residence. It was a secluded mansion in the Chongxian district. The Chongxian district was truly at the foot of the emperor. Those who lived here were either wealthy or noble. The streets and alleys were lush with greenery. In the tranquil serenity, it exuded an aura of opulence, strict rules, and a world apart from the crowing of roosters, barking of dogs, and chattering of women in the Scholar’s Lane.

The mansion didn’t have a plaque. It wasn’t large for Chongxian district, only three courtyards.

Chen Ping’an thanked the master who had led the way and entered alone. He discovered that the place wasn’t deserted. Many young faces were busily working, wearing official robes but with low ranks according to the Nan Yuan court’s insignia system. They were barely-ranked, low-level officials. The rooms were filled with people. Young men carrying documents and moving from room to room mostly walked briskly. Occasionally, they walked side by side, discussing matters. They glanced at Chen Ping’an, who was wearing a sword and saber, but quickly dismissed him.
Standing beneath the eaves of the main courtyard’s second section, Zhong Qiu greeted Chen Ping’an with a smile. Beside him stood a young official reporting on state affairs. Zhong Qiu offered brief replies and suggestions. The two exchanged a few words, concise and to the point. Upon seeing Chen Ping’an, the young official betrayed a hint of curiosity, but the National Preceptor did not reveal Chen Ping’an’s identity, and he dared not pry. He took his leave.

Zhong Qiu led Chen Ping’an to the rear courtyard, a world apart from the vibrant, bustling atmosphere of the front. Separated by a wall, it felt like a different realm entirely. A large clump of banana trees grew at the corner, their lush greenery appearing as though they might drip with moisture. On a stone table sat an ancient chessboard and box. This seemed to be the National Preceptor’s residence, neither meager nor extravagant, but refined and simple. Zhong Qiu and Chen Ping’an sat opposite each other at the stone table.

Zhong Qiu mentioned that he had already instructed officials in the Ministry of Works to collect and organize books related to bridges. As for the dossier on the scholar surnamed Jiang, it should be delivered to Chen Ping’an tonight.

Chen Ping’an felt somewhat embarrassed and spoke about the stolen and cheaply sold books. Zhong Qiu smiled and agreed to handle it.

Chen Ping’an then took the initiative, saying that with the capital in such turmoil, he felt bad troubling the National Preceptor with so many minor matters. He was willing to do anything he could to help and asked the National Preceptor to simply tell him what to do.

Zhong Qiu didn’t stand on ceremony. He requested that Chen Ping’an provide some guidance to his two personal disciples.

This wasn’t a misuse of public office. Disciples accepted by Zhong Qiu were required to enlist in the army after completing their training, starting as common soldiers. They had to serve in the frontier army for at least ten years. After that, they could either advance through the ranks in the military or leave the frontier and wander the martial world. Zhong Qiu wouldn’t restrict them. However, if they chose to roam the Jianghu, they couldn’t publicly claim to be Zhong Qiu’s disciples. If discovered, there would be no discussion; Zhong Qiu could teach them martial arts and take it all back.

The two disciples currently by Zhong Qiu’s side were both young and hadn’t yet finished their training. They possessed extraordinary talent and high aspirations, and there was no question of their character. However, they had never truly experienced the Jianghu. Thus, they needed someone to temper their sharp edges. Zhong Qiu had been under a great deal of pressure in recent years. To prepare for the Jiazi Agreement, especially to guard against Ding Ying and Yu Zhenyi, he found it difficult to focus on teaching his disciples martial arts. Zhong Qiu worried that his two highly anticipated disciples would, in the end, be nothing more than “Zhong Qiu’s disciples.”

Chen Ping’an readily agreed, although he didn’t feel qualified to be a mentor or teach anyone anything.

However, Chen Ping’an hadn’t expected Zhong Qiu to personally take him to meet the two disciples. He couldn’t help but ask, “Won’t this interfere with your handling of official matters?”

Zhong Qiu smiled and said, “If things fall into disarray the moment I, Zhong Qiu, am absent, then it shows that I haven’t done my job properly in the Nan Yuan court all these years. All I’ve done is issue orders…”

As he led Chen Ping’an out of the rear courtyard’s small door, Zhong Qiu suddenly asked, “If a prime minister encounters a street brawl on the road, how should he handle it?”

Chen Ping’an thought for a moment, “If it doesn’t affect their official duties, they should intervene.”

Zhong Qiu asked, “And then?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head.

Zhong Qiu chuckled. “This high-ranking official, according to your reasoning, can indeed handle such trivial matters, provided it doesn’t hinder their primary responsibilities. However, the most important thing is to immediately reflect on why such brawls are occurring in their jurisdiction.”

After considering it, Chen Ping’an deeply agreed.

Zhong Qiu and Chen Ping’an walked along a secluded street, shaded by trees. In the sweltering summer heat, many of the capital’s districts felt like ovens, with nowhere to escape the heat, but here, pedestrians felt remarkably cool. Zhong Qiu lamented, “This is originally a classic example from a sage’s book. The prime minister told his attendants that this wasn’t his responsibility and that the local officials should be held accountable; he shouldn’t overstep his bounds. When I first read this passage as a young man, I found it enlightening, like a thunderclap. But the more books I read and the more I saw of human affairs, the more doubts I harbored, and the more I couldn’t understand it.”

Zhong Qiu didn’t continue.

Chen Ping’an remained silent, thinking that if Master Qi or the Literary Saint were here, they could surely alleviate Zhong Qiu’s concerns and explain the principles clearly.

Zhong Qiu laughed heartily, his worries vanishing. He turned to Chen Ping’an and discussed matters of substance. “Yu Zhenyi has returned to the Songlai Sect, taking with him the Arm Saint, Cheng Yuanshan, who secretly left the city. At the time, everyone on the city walls, aside from Zhou Fei, the demon cult’s Crow, and Liu Zong, who ascended, gained something when we left the city. Yu Zhenyi seems to have found a Golden Jade Register. The Cloud Mud Monk obtained a section of white jade lotus root. As for what Tang Tieyi acquired, the capital’s spies haven’t discovered it. I, Zhong Qiu, obtained a Five Peaks Atlas, which speaks of divine matters, describing how to bestow titles upon the Five Peaks and gather the spiritual Qi of a country’s mountains and rivers. But since I don’t cultivate Daoist magic, the book is meaningless to me, utterly useless.”

Zhong Qiu sighed and continued, “Cheng Yuanshan, because he was hiding in the city, missed the drumbeat and ultimately came away empty-handed. His disciples have already been expelled. But if Cheng Yuanshan himself had been too slow, I would have kept him here. After all, Cheng Yuanshan is a man who holds grudges. Having suffered such a great setback in the Nan Yuan capital, he will surely incite the grassland cavalry to raid and plunder our borders.”

The immortal tome remained a hidden peril. Zhong Qiu couldn’t even destroy it and could only hide it carefully.

If Yu Zhenyi learned of it, he would certainly seek it out.

Perhaps, it would even cause Yu Zhenyi, who was originally indifferent to worldly affairs, to develop the ambition to support a puppet ruler and contend for the world for the first time, all so that he could bestow titles upon the Five Peaks as the legitimate ruler of the world. Then, he would be able to claim the Five Peaks’ spiritual Qi for his own and become a true terrestrial immortal.

Zhong Qiu discussed the grand affairs of the world with Chen Ping’an. “The female Daoist Huang Ting, who fought Yu Zhenyi to a draw, has already transferred the position of Mirror Heart Hall’s sect leader to the Empress. Huang Ting herself has left the capital, her whereabouts unknown. She only said that she’s seeking a place with excellent Feng Shui to practice her swordsmanship.

“Empress Zhou Shuzhen will soon ‘die of illness’ and go to guard the Mirror Heart Pavilion. His Majesty is helpless to stop it. As for the Reverence Tower, there has been a rebellion recently, colluding with the remnants of the Three Gates of the Demonic Sect. Zhou Shuzhen has completely lost control. The Reverence Tower has announced to the Jianghu that, from now on, the Reverence Tower will no longer rank the ten best in the world. As for that Great General of Northern Jin, Tang Tieyi, he is still hesitant about whether to join our Nan Yuan.”

Chen Ping’an listened attentively.
Master Zhong sighed, “If only you stood in that position, instead of Ding Ying, who was only interested in competing with the Heavenly Dao.”

Chen Ping’an looked puzzled.

Master Zhong chuckled, “It’s just a compliment anyway, no need to take it too seriously.”

Chen Ping’an smiled.

Not the polite, formal smile he gave Emperor Wei Liang at the restaurant that night.

Being around Master Zhong was like entering a room filled with orchids.

Master Zhong’s two disciples lived two city districts away in a sizable residence, officially registered as a martial arts academy. However, it was not open to the public. It was funded by Master Zhong’s eldest disciple, a former general with twenty years of military service. After suffering severe injuries on the battlefield, he retired from the border army. Whenever Master Zhong’s disciples came to the capital, they would gather here, avoiding disturbing their master. The disciples varied greatly in age, the eldest nearing fifty, while the youngest were a pair of teenagers, a boy and a girl, both around fifteen or sixteen.

When they arrived at the training grounds, Master Zhong chuckled in amusement. Including his two disciples, over a dozen people were gathered there, having a lively time. Among them were the grandchildren of the old General Lu Xiao, as well as friends the two disciples had made in the capital. Many were well-mannered children from noble families, yearning for the Jianghu. Several had already made plans to travel with Master Zhong’s disciples under the guise of studying abroad, venturing into the martial world together.

Master Zhong did not interfere with these plans.

He believed that the beauty of youth, even with its immaturity, should not be dismissed with the experience of old age, nor should it be suppressed arbitrarily.

Watching these children, Master Zhong sometimes grew annoyed at their mischief, but more often than not, he found them endearing. He felt that the world was not some lotus paradise, nor was it populated by banished immortals.

Chen Ping’an was somewhat surprised to spot a familiar face among them.

It was the young woman he had seen riding through the streets of the capital with her companions. She had thrown her purse to an old street vendor to compensate for her friend’s mistake, and then, showing off her riding skills, had fallen rather ungracefully. Covered in mud, she had still remounted her horse with her head held high, full of spirit. Chen Ping’an had even given her a thumbs-up then, but she had ignored him and rolled her eyes.

At first, no one recognized Chen Ping’an.

He wasn’t wearing his white robe or carrying his vermillion wine gourd.

However, the young people all respected and revered National Preceptor Zhong Qiu. When Zhong Qiu appeared, they immediately fell silent. Even his two disciples felt a little guilty, knowing they had neglected their martial arts training lately. They couldn’t help it; these friends had arrived in droves, their eyes shining as they spoke of the legendary White-Robed Sword Immortal. They all said that the young master who had killed Ding the Old Devil had a close relationship with their master. They hoped to wait here for him, especially the grandchildren of old General Lu Xiao. They had been insisting that their grandfather had returned home beaming, claiming that he had witnessed Yu Zhenyi and Tong Qingqing of Mirror Heart Studio fighting outside the city that night, and that the Sword Immortal named Chen Ping’an had stood beside him. They had become fast friends, lamenting their late acquaintance, and were practically sworn brothers. Unfortunately, Sword Immortal Chen was like an immortal being, very busy, but he had promised to visit the General’s mansion whenever he had time.

Lu Xiao’s young grandson, barely twelve or thirteen years old, repeated this story almost daily, his eyebrows dancing with pride and honor.

His older sister didn’t repeat the story as often, but her eyes were filled with anticipation and admiration.

Master Zhong turned to Chen Ping’an, who nodded.

Standing in the training grounds, Master Zhong said to his two disciples, “I’ve found a senior to guide you in your boxing. Give it your all.”

Chen Ping’an felt a little helpless and lowered his voice, saying softly, “Didn’t we agree to just spar with them, not really guide them?”

Master Zhong smiled. “Just chat a bit at the end. These two little rascals already know how to deal with me, their master. Whatever I say is useless now. They might take your words as gospel, since you’re an outsider.”

A tall, valiant young man strode forward and asked, “Master, who is this senior? He carries both a saber and a sword, so how can he teach us boxing? Is his boxing better than yours?”

The young man looked at Chen Ping’an, his eyes clear. “Senior, don’t think I’m looking down on you, but my master’s boxing is just too good. If you were teaching me saber or sword, I wouldn’t say this. By the way, my name is Yan Shijing. I speak plainly, so don’t take offense, Senior!”

A young woman walked slowly behind him, already searching for Chen Ping’an’s weaknesses. But the more she looked, the slower she walked, because she was shocked to discover that he was merely standing there casually, yet she couldn’t find a single flaw in his stance. This incredibly unsettling feeling was too similar to the feeling she got from her master, Zhong Qiu.

It was like seeing a tall mountain but not its peak, or standing by a vast river that seemed bottomless.

This young man in the green robe must be a martial arts grandmaster of exceptional skill!

The young woman was about to warn her senior brother Yan Shijing to be careful, but he had already said softly, “I already see it, I’m not stupid. How many people in our Nanyuan Kingdom have the gall to stand beside our master like that?”

The young woman asked, “Team up?”

The young man didn’t hesitate. “Try to last ten moves. Master is watching us.”

The young man and woman simultaneously adopted a boxing stance, ready to strike.

Chen Ping’an thought for a moment, then began to walk forward, using the six-step stance combined with Master Zhong’s peak boxing posture.

Just as the two were about to charge forward, Chen Ping’an took a step, and it felt like a mountain was pressing down on their shoulders, making it impossible to move. It felt like any movement would lead to death.

With the next step, their minds and bodies were completely frozen. The valiant young man gritted his teeth, trying to move forward, while the young woman wanted to sidestep to avoid the brunt of the force and reassess the situation.

After three seemingly effortless steps from Chen Ping’an, the siblings’ aura had completely collapsed.

After four steps, they were already staggering backward, covered in sweat, their faces pale.

Chen Ping’an stopped and asked, “Knowing that throwing a punch won’t kill you, why don’t you throw it? If you ever face a life-or-death situation, will you still be too afraid to throw a single punch, even if you know you’ll die? Does that mean you can only throw a punch when facing an equal opponent or someone weaker than you?”

The young man collapsed to the ground.
The girl, indignant, said, “Senior, you are a peerless grandmaster! To use your power to suppress us right from the start, what kind of sparring is this? What kind of instruction in the art of fists is this?”

Chen Pingan still asked, “Why didn’t you throw a single punch?”

The young man lowered his head.

The girl’s eyes turned red, and she began to weep, but she resolutely met the gaze of that unfamiliar person who liked to bully others.

Chen Pingan realized he might have been excessive. He turned his head and said apologetically to Zhong Qiu, “I rarely spar with others, and I don’t really understand the true customs of the martial world.”

Zhong Qiu shook his head, lost in thought, and said softly, “When I teach my disciples the art of the fist, I’m afraid they will make mistakes. So I adhere too strictly to the principle of ‘A fist high in skill should not be thrown lightly.’ My original intention was to hope they wouldn’t engage in disputes of pride in the martial world, wouldn’t abuse their strength to bully others, and would always consider the weight of their punches. I was thinking more about them joining the battlefield in the future, dedicating at least ten years to serving the nation. So my disciples have always had their spirits suppressed. Looking at it now, I can’t say I was wrong, but ultimately, I stifled the possibility of them surpassing me.”

Zhong Qiu sighed and smiled at Chen Pingan, “It needs to be changed.”

The young man, who had barely endured being humiliated by an outsider, couldn’t bear to see his revered teacher, whom he regarded as a father, “admitting fault,” and for their sake! In young Yan Shijing’s heart, his master Zhong Qiu was a truly flawless martial grandmaster, even a sage of literature.

In a fit of anger, the young man suddenly stood up, but he didn’t launch a sneak attack on the man in green robes. Instead, he glared at him and shouted, “Come again!”

Chen Pingan took a step forward, but it was no longer the “leisurely” stance and footwork. Instead, he threw a punch towards Yan Shijing’s forehead, as if a storm was bearing down.

The young man took another step back.

Chen Pingan asked, “Where is your punch?”

The young man was at a loss, despondent.

Chen Pingan sighed and turned to Zhong Qiu, saying, “Someone once told me that practicing the fist seems to be about cultivating strength, about becoming a pure martial artist, but cultivating the heart is truly important. Since you practice the fist, you can no longer talk about ordinary human emotions. Like how Master Zhong said a fist high in skill should not be thrown lightly. I thought about it, and it makes a lot of sense. But ‘a fist high in skill should not be thrown lightly’ is something that people of Master Zhong’s realm and cultivation should do. It’s only a principle that your disciples should understand. Understanding this principle is one thing, but what to do in the moment is another. Only in this way can you be able to throw a punch at anyone in the future without feeling any guilt.”

Zhong Qiu smiled and nodded, “Exactly this principle.”

He roughly understood Chen Pingan’s temperament. When doing something, no matter how big or small, he must pursue perfection. So even if he was truly apprehensive beforehand, unsure how to spar with others or how to teach them the principles of the fist, once he took that first step, Chen Pingan showed the same seriousness he had when fighting against the siege on the street. Zhong Qiu, as an observer, saw it very clearly. Perhaps Chen Pingan himself didn’t realize it, but at that moment, how confident he was!

Even to the point of having a kind of arrogance where “when I throw a punch, all the martial artists in the world need only look up and sigh, ‘Heavens above!'”

Zhong Qiu was actually a little curious about how Chen Pingan, who was so approachable, could achieve this state of mind when he threw a punch. He was even more curious about how Chen Pingan had practiced his fist.

Regardless, Zhong Qiu gave both versions of Chen Pingan his respect.

Chen Pingan was a little embarrassed. “These are just some things I thought up randomly, and they may not be suitable for Master Zhong’s disciples.”

Zhong Qiu shook his head, his expression serious. “Some principles are universally applicable. What you just said applies to all martial artists.”

Chen Pingan was afraid that the young man and woman’s desire to practice martial arts would be like a crack in a mirror, cautiously choosing his words. Although he wasn’t very good at it, he still tried his best to comfort them, saying, “Those who practice the fist, besides being able to endure hardship, must also have a calm mind. Only then can they throw a punch quickly and calmly, moving forward without hesitation. Then one day, whether you encounter me, or the world’s top masters like your teacher, or seemingly invincible opponents like Ding Ying, you can all throw a punch quickly, the fastest.”

Chen Pingan’s face was serious as he looked at the two of them. “With no one before you, just your two fists!”

The young man and woman were confused and bewildered, but the grief and fear on their faces and in their hearts had diminished a lot.

Zhong Qiu nodded gently.

This wasn’t just teaching the fist; it was clearly pointing out a “martial path”!

As for how far these two silly children could go in the future, or whether they could embark on this mountain road of martial arts, it depended on both talent and opportunity. Zhong Qiu knew that more words would be useless, actually, even saying this much was useless.

Chen Pingan, having retracted his fist, no longer had that imposing manner. Looking at the two pitiful young men and women, he was a little nervous and asked Zhong Qiu, “Did I speak too grandly, too vaguely?”

Zhong Qiu joked, “It’s about enough. How many flattering words do you want me to say today before you’ll stop?”

Chen Pingan was dumbfounded.

Zhong Qiu looked at his two disciples. Yan Shijing and the other weren’t going to get this treatment. “You don’t need to practice the fist today. Think carefully about why you didn’t dare to throw a punch. Once you understand, it won’t be too late to practice the fist.”

The young man and woman clasped their fists in obedience.

Zhong Qiu and Chen Pingan left together.

After the National Preceptor and the strange man left, the young fellows soon began to chatter noisily, mostly comforting Yan Shijing and the girl, mixed with some exclamations of amazement and emotion. Although these outsiders all knew about National Preceptor Zhong’s peerless skills, none of them had ever seen Zhong Qiu throw a punch with their own eyes. Even though their families had skilled bodyguards, their horizons were higher than each other’s. So today, seeing that man’s strike, just one punch, they still felt the trip was worth it.

Yan Shijing took the lead in leaving the crowd. The young man wasn’t in high spirits, squatted on the steps, and was somewhat dazed.

The girl chatted with her friends for a while, then sat down beside her senior brother Yan Shijing and spoke up on his behalf, “There’s nothing amazing about it. In the end, that person is just relying on his superior skills to boss us around. It’s really annoying, and he did it in front of Master!”

Yan Shijing looked into the distance. “I think what he said makes a lot of sense, and Master agreed.”

The girl said indignantly, “I don’t believe he would dare to say such big words if he faced our master, Yu Zhenyi, and that old demon Ding. It’s easy to say, ‘Just throw a punch!'”

Yan Shijing clenched his fist. “From now on, I won’t be lazy. I will practice the fist diligently, and I will ask Master to teach me even more profound fist techniques every day. One day, I will make that person retract all the words he said today!”
The young woman’s eyes sparkled as she gazed at the side profile of her junior brother, “You can definitely do it! Senior Brother always says that your talent is closest to Master among us. If you had five more years to practice your fists, you could already compete with Fan Wan’er of the Mirror Heart Convent and Zhou Shi, the ‘Flower Adorning Gentleman’ of the Spring Tide Palace.”

On the rooftop, Zhong Qiu accompanied Chen Ping’an, secretly sitting together. Zhong Qiu couldn’t understand why Chen Ping’an had suggested returning silently and sitting here, listening to the children below talking nonsense.

However, after hearing the conversation between Yan Shijing and the other, Zhong Qiu still couldn’t guess Chen Ping’an’s intention. But this Imperial Preceptor seemed somewhat regretful and disappointed, although he wasn’t terribly disillusioned with those two children.

Chen Ping’an smiled as he stood up, leaving the place with Zhong Qiu.

On the way back, Chen Ping’an sought advice from Zhong Qiu on the martial arts and principles of boxing in this world, benefiting immensely.

The two parted ways halfway. Chen Ping’an chose a roadside tavern, ordering a pot of wine and two side dishes, the wine being the most expensive kind the tavern offered.

The old Daoist priest appeared out of thin air, sitting across from Chen Ping’an. No one in the bustling tavern noticed anything amiss. A wine bowl appeared before the old Daoist, the wine pouring itself from the pot into the bowl. Reaching out, he produced a pair of chopsticks, picked up a piece of scrambled eggs with scallions, and ate with relish, laughing, “Have you just realized that so many things you took for granted, always thinking you were an ordinary person and that anyone willing to work hard could achieve what you have today? Have you finally discovered how ridiculous that is?”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Is Senior so free?”

The old Daoist replied with a similarly unrelated answer, “Then you underestimate those who taught you principles and transmitted their fist techniques to you. If you continue down this path with your previous mindset, you will eventually end up like that person, lost and alone. And you still won’t ask for help, fearing to implicate others. Haha, perhaps you can at least gain a ‘dying for a worthy cause’.”

Chen Ping’an nodded, “If I wasn’t good enough, I wouldn’t be sitting here, leisurely drinking with Senior. I would have died here, died without knowing why. If I was fortunate enough to be enlightened in the next life, even after I left Lotus Root Paradise, no matter how the outside world has changed, I would want nothing more than to fight Senior to the death.”

The old Daoist drank his wine and ate his side dishes, casually saying, “Of course. Since you entered Lotus Root Paradise, if you weren’t skilled enough and died at the hands of Lu Fang or Ding Ying, only if Chen Qingdu and the Old Scholar joined forces would I reluctantly let you take action. Otherwise, you should obediently reincarnate here. So, you should raise a toast to yourself, to yourself for surviving.”

In the depths of Chen Ping’an’s heart, this old Daoist was no better than the man selling candied haws.

It wasn’t that the old Daoist was deliberately targeting him, Chen Ping’an. In fact, Chen Ping’an knew he wasn’t qualified for that. Nor was it that the old Daoist’s principles were wrong.

Chen Ping’an simply didn’t like that feeling.

It wasn’t even the way cultivators looked down on ants; it was more like someone looking at the chickens they raised, deciding whether to fatten them up to slaughter and eat, or to continue raising them, all depending on their mood.

However, it was also possible that Chen Ping’an wasn’t standing high enough to see the human landscape in their eyes.

Chen Ping’an drank a bowl of wine.

Regardless of whether the martial world was good or bad, the wine in Lotus Root Paradise truly wasn’t great.

Chen Ping’an slowly drank his wine, completely ignoring the old Daoist, deeply contemplating how he had arrived where he was today.

From Mud Bottle Lane, he thought all the way to the alley outside Cao Qinglang’s door.

It turned out that there were countless forks in the road beneath everyone’s feet.

He had to treat himself well.

Only then could he treat the world well.

But that was difficult.

Injustices in the heart could be drowned with wine, but what about the many injustices in the world? If Chen Ping’an’s fist became stronger and his sword became faster, would he have to intervene in every injustice he witnessed? But if he didn’t, how would he overcome the obstacle in his heart? Wouldn’t that also be an injustice? Would he be letting down Mr. Qi, the principles in the books, and his status as Little Martial Uncle to Li Bao Ping?

But I also have to take revenge, fulfill my promise with the Sword Spirit Sister, practice my fists and become a Seventh-Realm martial artist, practice my sword and cultivate the Bridge of Longevity to become a great sword immortal, read books and become like Mr. Qi, and marry such a good girl as my wife…

What to do?

Forget all the complex reasoning and just get drunk!

Chen Ping’an fell forward with a thud, his head heavily landing on the wine table.

In his sleep, he seemed to hear someone asking him what he thought after seeing the greatest rivers. Chen Ping’an drunkenly laughed and replied that the water was so vast that the fish must be huge. Little Bao Ping always complained that his fish soup was too bland, so next time he would definitely catch a big fish and add enough salt!

The old Daoist twitched the corner of his mouth and no longer used Daoist magic to draw wine from the pot. Instead, he poured a bowl of wine for himself by hand and asked, “So many high mountains, how was the scenery?”

Chen Ping’an slapped the table, still rambling in his drunken state, “I don’t know. But there’s a saying in the books, ‘I see the azure mountains and find them so charming…’ But I’ve walked many mountain roads, and the rainy and snowy weather is hard to traverse, too hard…”

The old Daoist put down his wine cup, looked at Chen Ping’an across from him, and said in annoyance, “How did Qi Jingchun teach such a drunkard?”