Beside a secluded mountain lake, they discovered a dilapidated bamboo hut, its original elegance still faintly discernible. It must have been a refined structure, likely commissioned by a wealthy recluse with a penchant for angling.

The group settled in, each taking on a task. Chen Ping’an went to cut two slender, aged bamboo stalks, one long and one short. Upon his return, Zhu Lian had already kindled a bonfire. Chen Ping’an squatted beside the flames, slowly roasting the bamboo to enhance its resilience, lest a powerful creature of the deep snap the pole at the first tug. He handed the shorter bamboo to Pei Qian, instructing her to emulate his actions.

Within the hut, Zhu Lian and the burly Han were engrossed in scholarly discourse, seated some distance from the others. Zhu Lian seemed to be flaunting the “immortal book” gifted by the old man surnamed Xun, their debate as fierce as a battle, leaving them drenched in sweat.

The young Daoist and Lu Baixiang were on the floor, playing a game of Go, Wei Xian crouching nearby, patiently awaiting the outcome.

The yellow earth ox stood guard in the nearby woods.

Embracing the serene mountain landscape, Sui Youbian slipped away from the hut, unseen. She removed her boots at the edge of the “foundation,” which resembled a bamboo raft, and sat with her snow-white jade feet dipped in the water. Her cherished sword lay across her lap, her hands resting on its hilt and pommel, gazing into the distance, inhaling the refreshing mountain air.

Having fashioned the fishing rods, Chen Ping’an tested their flexibility with a few casts, Pei Qian mirroring his movements.

The master and apprentice duo emerged from the hut. Chen Ping’an began to attach the fishing line and hook, Pei Qian copying him, though faltering on some finer points, which Chen Ping’an corrected, retying knots and securing the hook.

He then led Pei Qian to the lake shore to overturn stones, seeking aquatic insects resembling mole crickets.

In the end, Chen Ping’an did not fish himself. He instructed Pei Qian to fish alone, stowing his long rod within the jade pendant given by Zheng Dafeng. Inside resided worn-out straw sandals he refused to discard, humble fishing gear, moderately valuable Water Well Immortal Brew, and the faded plane tree leaf, said to contain two protective mountain arrays from Taiping Mountain and the Spirit Writing Sect, alongside a large sum of Grain Rain money repaid by the Tung Leaf Sect.

Pei Qian was naturally impatient, but Chen Ping’an’s presence and the time spent copying books and practicing calligraphy had tempered her spirit. She gazed quietly at the water’s surface, yearning to haul in a massive, hundred-pound carp at any moment.

Chen Ping’an contemplated the fourth stance of the Shaking Mountain Fist, named Heaven and Earth Posture, an ambitious stance indeed. Beyond detailing true energy circulation, the dynamic posture was bizarre, requiring practitioners to perform handstands, supported by hands, fists, and a single finger, respectively, then “walking.”

Concerning this posture, the book boasted that those who practice it, upstanding and reaching for the heavens, would cause the very sky and earth to revolve with their fists.

No wonder the barefoot old man, upon reviewing the Shaking Mountain Fist manual, deemed it worthless save for its boastful tone.

Chen Ping’an gently pressed against the ground, gracefully flipping into a handstand, one palm supporting his weight.

Pei Qian, turning her head and witnessing this, felt an urge to laugh.

The inverted Chen Ping’an, his free hand pointing to the water, signaled Pei Qian to focus on fishing.

Pei Qian obediently turned back. Chen Ping’an shifted from palm to fist, “standing” on his knuckles, then elevated himself, supported by only a single finger. The true energy of the Heaven and Earth Posture flowed from head to toe, without any difficulty.

Chen Ping’an closed his eyes. Besides the supporting finger, his other hand formed a two-finger sword gesture before him. The bottleneck between the twelfth and thirteenth of A’liang’s Eighteen Sword Qi Halts was on the verge of breaking. He had not been in a hurry, but Pei Qian, whom he taught the Eighteen Halts at the Dust & Ash Apothecary in Old Dragon City, had cheerfully, though without arrogance, announced shortly after leaving Bee Tail Ferry that she could freely execute the twelfth halt, leaving Chen Ping’an somewhat helpless, only able to continue urging her to avoid pride and remain grounded.

Chen Ping’an inevitably felt a sense of urgency, perhaps more accurately, worry.

If Pei Qian were to ascend the martial path at such an astonishing rate, there would come a day when his disciple, designated in jest, would walk shoulder to shoulder with her master, Chen Ping’an, and then, increasingly distant, would ascend alone, gazing down upon the mortal realm.

The disciple need not be inferior to the master, Chen Ping’an had declared to Zheng Dafeng. Furthermore, surpassing the master was a classic argument from the Sage Master’s Exhortation to Learning. Chen Ping’an did not care if Pei Qian’s martial path surpassed his own, but he worried about his role as her guide and protector. If Pei Qian were to stray from the path one day, how would he reconcile himself? Would he, like the young dragon of Dragon Dike who carelessly tossed out the snake gall stone, coldly proclaim, “If it be a karmic debt, I shall sever it with a sword”? Could Chen Ping’an accomplish such a thing? Even if he possessed such a callous heart, Pei Qian’s martial skill might one day surpass his own, beyond his reach. How could he then sever the ties?

In Lotus Root Paradise, guided by the old Daoist of the Eastern Sea, he had witnessed a court of gentlemen and their factions. Over eighty years, how had they progressed from caring for the nation and its people to a decline in morality, where everyone proclaimed themselves a gentleman, and thus, without flaw? Whenever a colleague fell into disfavor and was exiled, no one questioned right or wrong. They would stand in court, righteously denouncing their political enemies, consoling their “dear friend,” offering willow branches, raising cups of wine to soothe their journey, lamenting the decline of virtue and the rise of wolves. The scholars and literati in the distant Jianghu would direct the narrative, crafting scandalous or fabricated histories about their political foes.

Now that Chen Ping’an harbored thoughts of founding a sect, he had to prevent such a terrible outcome.

If he could not properly guide even Pei Qian, the closest to him, how could Chen Ping’an dare to say that his sect would not become a second Tung Leaf Sect, a second Du Mao, after a thousand years?

Read, learn etiquette, practice martial arts, strengthen the body.

This was Chen Ping’an’s original intention for Pei Qian.
Under normal circumstances, martial arts were like walking on two legs, stable and without issue. But the key was that Pei Qian’s talent and luck in martial arts were too high. One day, she might find the lessons in books a mere chore to placate Chen Ping’an. One day, she might find reasoning with others tedious and uninteresting. She might think, “I have powerful fists, swords at my waist, I should follow my heart and desires,” neglecting self-discipline and restraint. Chen Ping’an had once spent fifty Lesser Heat coins without batting an eye to create a Golden Core demon who was benevolent to humans. But if he were to create a ninth-realm or even tenth-realm martial artist who only considered personal gain and dismissed right and wrong, then not even fifty or five hundred Grain Rain coins could remedy the situation.

Chen Ping’an, in an inverted posture, closed his eyes and pondered, unable to find a solution that satisfied both sides.

Was he truly going to sever Pei Qian’s martial arts path because of a possible “what if” in the future?

Earlier, in the mountain hollow, when facing the mountain rogue cultivator who harbored malicious intentions but had not yet caused any tragedy, Chen Ping’an had said, “It’s difficult because the worst outcome hasn’t happened, so reason can still be used.” Otherwise, Chen Ping’an would have simply engaged in a free-for-all.

This was a change Chen Ping’an had made after the battle at the border inn, where he proposed “introspective questioning,” and after learning about the subsequent changes in the Tongye Sect from the female Daoist Huang Ting. Chen Ping’an felt he should take a small step back, adapting to circumstances and individuals, focusing on understanding this “small step,” lest people use “a clear conscience” as an excuse, further blurring the lines between right and wrong.

Pei Qian, who was frustrated with the fish for not being cooperative, suddenly touched her slightly sore cheek, only to see Sui Youbian winking at her. Following Sui Youbian’s gaze, Pei Qian saw Chen Ping’an in the distance, his brow furrowed, looking different from usual.

Sui Youbian withdrew her finger that had flicked a water droplet at Pei Qian’s cheek and continued to gaze into the distance.

Pei Qian gently put down her fishing rod and tiptoed over to Chen Ping’an, squatting down beside him and staring at her master’s brow.

Could it be that her master had belatedly started to regret wasting those fifty Lesser Heat coins?

Chen Ping’an opened his eyes, looked at the dark, sun-tanned face, and asked with a smile, “What’s wrong?”

Pei Qian thought for a moment, “Master, are you troubled? Tell me about it.”

Chen Ping’an exerted a little force with his wrist, changing from an inverted posture to standing normally, then sat down cross-legged, feeling somewhat hesitant.

The matter was too distant, the principle too grand.

Was Pei Qian too young to understand? Would his words and emotions be like heavy boulders pressing down on her shoulders?

Chen Ping’an took out his gourd for nurturing swords and took a sip of Xiaolianyue wine. The gentle breeze carried the scent of mountains and waters, easing Chen Ping’an’s mood slightly.

Life is short, yet worries are endless.

Chen Ping’an, after drinking the wine, smiled and narrowed his eyes, mocking himself inwardly, “Am I starting to sound like a scholar?”

He turned his head and said with a smile, “It concerns you. Do you want to hear it?”

Pei Qian swallowed, immediately reflecting on the mischievous things she had done along the way, realizing that it was probably not just a matter of one or two chestnuts on the head. She then said with a bitter face, “Can I not listen? Can you tell me when I’m older and more sensible?”

Chen Ping’an stroked her little head, “It doesn’t involve anything good or bad, just some thoughts in my heart. No need to worry about getting hit with chestnuts or having your ears pulled.”

Free from the burden, Pei Qian immediately sat up straight, facing the sideways-sitting Chen Ping’an. Her eyes were smiling as she adjusted the two bamboo swords at her waist, feigning seriousness. “Master, please speak! Your disciple is all ears.”

Chen Ping’an smiled and also turned slightly, sitting face to face with her. He asked, “If one day, your swordsmanship, saber skills, and fist techniques are all better than Master’s, and then we encounter something where Master thinks is right, but you think is wrong, what would you do?”

Pei Qian said without hesitation, “Listen to Master, what else could I do?”

Chen Ping’an smiled slightly, “Think about it a little harder.”

Pei Qian began to scratch her head, looking distressed. “But I just think that what Master says is right, is right. What Master says is wrong, is wrong.”

Chen Ping’an remained silent.

Pei Qian had no choice but to continue to ponder and daydream, letting her thoughts wander, anyway, Master didn’t seem to be in a hurry.

Pei Qian suddenly asked with a smile, “If one day I become more powerful than Master, how powerful would that be?”

Chen Ping’an said, “Like Du Laoze that Huang Ting mentioned, Du Mao of the Tongye Sect, an Ascension Realm cultivator.”

Chen Ping’an added with a smile, “Let’s just talk about cultivation levels for now, not about good and evil.”

Pei Qian opened her mouth wide in amazement, “Wow, if I’m that powerful, my family must have mountains of gold and silver, right? Can I even count all the money? Counting money is so tiring, but if I don’t count it clearly, I’ll be afraid of someone stealing some of it. Sigh, the troubles of the rich, when will I ever have them…”

Chen Ping’an looked at the increasingly worried, dark-skinned little girl and chuckled, leaning forward and gently patting Pei Qian’s head, “In my hometown, there was a military strategist, a blacksmith who forged swords named Master Ruan. Looking back, there’s one thing he did really well, which is about accepting disciples. Master Ruan wouldn’t just look at talent, but also at whether they were like-minded, whether they could walk the same path, rather than finding some disciples with excellent talent but incompatible hearts, or finding some disciples who would just rush out and fight whenever their master had a conflict, only knowing how to fight.”

Pei Qian wanted to say something but stopped, ultimately remaining silent.

Chen Ping’an continued, “Back to the original question, what should you do if you have a dispute with Master? Don’t always think that Master is always right. Master is not a saint, and can also make mistakes. We should sit down face to face like this today and clearly explain our respective rights and wrongs, and listen to the one who makes sense. I, Chen Ping’an, will not use my status as your master, Pei Qian, to suppress your reason. If you, Pei Qian, are very powerful at that time, even if you could casually kill me with a single punch, you cannot act wantonly just because of your high cultivation level, regardless of the reason I, Chen Ping’an, give you.”

Pei Qian’s eyes were brimming with tears.

She didn’t really understand, but she felt that it was a very sad thing.

Especially when Pei Qian heard Chen Ping’an say the words “casually kill me with a single punch,” Pei Qian was almost heartbroken.
Pei Qian, aggrieved, turned away and sat down, secretly shedding tears, not wanting to look at the preposterous Chen Ping’an.

Chen Ping’an returned to his original spot, facing the lake. The spring breeze ruffled the water’s surface into ripples. He extended his palm, raising it higher and higher, “Truth is actually graded, just like the circles I drew at the mountain summit, they came in different sizes. Master once encountered a small fox spirit in a dilapidated temple in a place called Caiyi Kingdom. It enjoyed reading tales of talented scholars and beautiful women, causing mischief and frightening people, but never truly harming anyone, and would even help shield from wind and rain. This time, we encountered that stubborn yellow earth ox, determined never to roll over. So, does this mean that when the demon race attacks the Great Wall of Sword Qi, we can skip over the heroic sacrifices of the sword cultivators who have been pointing their swords south for thousands of years, and instead feel pity, and question why the sword cultivators are so cruel? Can it be that there are no virtuous beings among the demon race?”

Pei Qian, still with her back to Chen Ping’an, sniffled and choked, “I know that. Those people don’t distinguish between right and wrong, priority, or the importance of reasons.”

Chen Ping’an suddenly drew the largest circle with one hand, and raised the other palm above his head, “But the Literary Saint, and the White Lord rumored to have helped humanity forge the Great Ding Tripod and draw the Search Mountain Chart, I feel that they are the only ones qualified to speak of ‘Heaven’s Laws and Earth’s Principles.’ We are far from that level. But why are they imprisoned in the Merit Forest, why are they held within the Majestic Suppressing Tower? Is it because of this that we feel it’s useless to reason? Is there truly no retribution for good and evil in this world?”

Pei Qian turned around and sat beside Chen Ping’an, lowering her head, “But some bad people, they live even better than good people.”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “So, in the capital of Nanyuan Kingdom, the old monk of the Heart Appearance Temple said that the world always owes a debt to good people.”

Pei Qian asked in a low voice, “What should we do then?”

Chen Ping’an didn’t drink the small portion of medicinal liquor from his Sword Nurturing Gourd, but instead took out a pot of Osmanthus Wine from his close-at-hand storage. After opening it, he took a sip and smiled, “Perhaps they are waiting for us in the books to find them.”

In the distant mountains and forests, the yellow earth ox lay prostrate on the ground, lost in thought.

Although Sui Youbian’s expression was aloof, she had been listening intently all along.

Pei Qian wiped away her tears and laughed, “Master, not long after we left Bee Tail Ferry last time, when we were cooking, how did that local folk tune from your hometown go? Why were there no words? Sing it again, I really want to learn.”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “That was taught to me by my best friend. You can make up the lyrics however you want. In my hometown, it can be used to tease and scold people, to relax when working, or it can also be used to…accompany drinks.”

Chen Ping’an took a sip of Osmanthus Wine and began to hum softly, smiling as he pointed at Pei Qian, “Shopkeeper, I’ve read some books, learned quite a few words, accumulated a bellyful of knowledge, can’t sell it for much.”

Aiyo.

He was talking about her, Pei Qian.

Pei Qian was overjoyed and blurted out, “Stinky tofu tastes good but I can’t afford it, yo!”

Chen Ping’an smiled knowingly, “There are monsters and goblins in the mountains, water ghosts in the lakes and rivers, scared stiff, turned my head, realized I’ve been away from home for many years.”

Pei Qian chimed in, “Eat stinky tofu, then!”

Chen Ping’an took another sip of wine, casually pointing elsewhere, coincidentally in Sui Youbian’s direction, but he didn’t care, “Whose little girl, carries the scent of orchids, why is her face smeared with tears, wouldn’t you say it’s a pity?”

Pei Qian nodded vigorously, “It’s a pity not to eat stinky tofu, yo!”

Chen Ping’an squinted and smiled, pointing his finger high up, gently humming, “Tell me, what should the master do, a paper kite basking in the sun hangs on a branch.”

Pei Qian held her stomach and laughed loudly, “Eat stinky tofu, yo, stinky tofu is fragrant, yo!”

Over at the bamboo house, Zhang Shanfeng and Xu Yuanxia exchanged smiles.

Zhu Lian closed his eyes and smiled, shaking his head.

Lu Baixiang gently tapped his knees.

Sui Youbian, unusually, wasn’t angry. Instead, she covered her mouth and smiled, her eyes crinkling.

Wei Xian, supporting his cheek, tilted his head, having squatted down in front of the bamboo house door at some point, watching the back of the dark-skinned little girl.

The master and disciple, singing in harmony, amidst the verdant mountains and clear waters.