Chen Pingan’s trip to Qingxia Island was a fleeting one, a whirlwind journey.

In truth, whether Gu Can stayed or left held no bearing on the overall situation. The reality was that Chen Pingan could no longer alter much. Certain events unfolding behind the scenes, be it Su Gaoshan’s machinations in Great Li, the upheaval in Shujian Lake, or the schemes of those Gongliu Island cultivators, would remain unaffected by Gu Can’s location, as long as Chen Pingan remained unwilling to depart from the central region of Treasure Bottle洲.

However, it was best if Gu Can himself was willing to remain on Qingxia Island, safeguarding the Spring Courtyard Manor.

Chen Pingan poled his boat away.

He disembarked at Lutong City. Previously, when the ferry had passed by Hibiscus Mountain, whose Ancestral Hall had been thoroughly demolished, the fire dragon’s emergence had been a sight to behold, its fiery aura no less impressive than the mud loach’s stirring of the waters. Those in Shujian Lake with sufficient cultivation and keen eyes had mistakenly believed that Gu Can’s nemesis had finally revealed himself, anticipating a clash between fire and water. But to their surprise, those outsiders, rumored to be Great Li’s ‘Sticky Rod’ secret agents, had chosen to withdraw.

However, the subsequent events were no less thrilling. The enigmatic woman in azure robes, shrouded in mystery, joined forces with a peculiar youth with a mole between his brows to slay a ninth-realm sword cultivator from the Zhu Ying Dynasty. It was said that not only was the man’s physical body devoured, but even his nascent soul was captured. This suggested that the two ‘old cultivators’ who appeared as young men and women had held back a great deal of their power during the pursuit, making them all the more formidable.

Defeating a terrestrial immortal was worlds apart from slaying one.

After disembarking, Chen Pingan retrieved his horse from the inn. He then visited the humble alleyway stall, bought several meat buns with thin crusts and generous fillings, and ate his fill before setting off towards the southeastern border of Shihao Country, which bordered Meiyu Country. The pass was known as “Stay Here,” a name with historical significance. Accounts varied, with some claiming that the founding emperor of the Zhu Ying Dynasty had successfully persuaded a strategist of the Han ethnicity, revered as “half the empire,” to remain. Others said that the most powerful nascent soul sword cultivator in Zhu Ying Dynasty history, disheartened and unable to attain enlightenment, had carved the words “Stay Here” on the cliff face with his formidable sword energy before his regretful self-dissolution. This made the small pass of the tributary state a sacred ground for sword cultivators and martial artists throughout central Treasure Bottle洲, each seeking to pay homage to the inscription.

Before autumn arrived, Chen Pingan traveled wearily to Stay Here Pass, where he met up with Zeng Ye and Ma Duyi, who had been waiting for him.

Seeing Chen Pingan’s familiar figure approaching alone on horseback, Ma Duyi and Zeng Ye visibly relaxed.

Initially, the two had enjoyed their freedom without Chen Pingan by their side. Zeng Ye carried his Underworld Yama Hall on his back, able to summon a few of Chen Pingan’s “appointed” cave realm ghosts in times of crisis. Traveling the martial world of Shihao Country, they would be fine as long as they didn’t attract too much attention. So, Zeng Ye and Ma Duyi had been unrestrained in their words and actions. But as they traveled further, they became increasingly anxious. Even the sight of Great Li scouts patrolling the wilderness made them uneasy. It was then that they realized how different it was to have Chen Pingan by their side.

With Chen Pingan around, rules were in place, but the two, one man and one ghost, were at least at ease.

Zeng Ye and Ma Duyi had discussed this feeling in private, but couldn’t quite put their finger on it, only feeling that it wasn’t just Chen Pingan’s higher cultivation.

At the historic site of Stay Here Pass, they gazed up at the towering characters carved into the sheer cliff face. Both also noticed that Chen Pingan, after his trip to Shujian Lake, seemed more concerned than ever.

Chen Pingan sensed this, and after a moment of contemplation, he looked away and said to them honestly, “Before coming here, I obtained two jade tokens, hoping to meet with Su Gaoshan of Great Li, but I was unsuccessful.”

Zeng Ye didn’t delve too deeply into it, simply feeling a sense of disappointment for Chen Pingan.

However, Ma Duyi recognized the hidden undercurrents and the lurking danger.

Chen Pingan tried to sound nonchalant as he chuckled, “Many things, if left untouched, will never reveal their answers. Once a choice is made, there will be both good and bad outcomes, and this is the bad one. Not only did I fail to meet with Su Gaoshan, but while it may not be enough to stir up a hornet’s nest, this Great Li general will surely be paying attention to us now. Therefore, we must be even more careful in the future. If, during our journey through Meiyu Country, either of you accidentally spots a Great Li cultivator accompanying the army, just pretend you didn’t see them. Don’t worry, we won’t be in any life-threatening danger.”

Zeng Ye nodded, but couldn’t help but feel troubled.

Ma Duyi, on the other hand, was carefree, joking, “As long as we’re not being chased by Great Li’s iron cavalry, I don’t care. Let them watch if they want to, we don’t have a copper coin on us to lose.”

Chen Pingan said helplessly, “If only the two of you could complement each other’s personalities.”

Ma Duyi widened his eyes, “Master Chen, don’t go playing matchmaker! I don’t have any designs on Zeng Ye.”

Zeng Ye chuckled innocently, though he didn’t dare to say that he didn’t have any designs on Ma Duyi either.

Beneath the cliff, scattered around, were mostly merchants from Shihao and Meiyu Countries waiting to cross the pass, most of them young, hoping to return home and boast of their travels. As for the older merchants and seasoned martial artists, they had seen the words “Stay Here” countless times, and it truly couldn’t hold them back anymore.

As Chen Pingan and his party of three turned their horses around, a group of martial artists arrived, dismounted, and respectfully bowed to the cliff inscription with their swords in hand.

The elder among them loudly recounted the historical origins of the site to the younger members of the group, his voice filled with passion. Of course, he didn’t forget to sing the praises of those who wielded the sword. The young men and women listened, their faces radiant, their spirits stirred.

It was likely a martial arts sect that had left their mountain to gain experience in the martial world.

Chen Pingan could naturally see through the elder’s strength. He was a fifth-realm martial artist with a decent foundation, and would likely be a well-known figure in the martial world of a small tributary state like Meiyu Country. However, unless the old swordsman encountered a significant stroke of luck, he had no hope of reaching the sixth realm in this lifetime. His qi and blood were failing, and he seemed to have a lingering illness, his soul flickering, making the fifth-realm bottleneck even more insurmountable. If he were to encounter a younger martial artist of the same realm, he would naturally fall victim to the saying that youth trumps age.

Meetings in the martial world were often fleeting. The three riders departed.

The elder turned around and looked at the backs of the three riders. A slender young woman with blossoming features asked, “Master, that one in azure robes, with both a sword and a saber, looks like he’s from the martial world. Is he a hidden expert?”
The old man chuckled, “Wearing a green robe and carrying a sword doesn’t necessarily make one a Sword Immortal, you know.”

They all mounted their horses and continued their journey.

While Mei You Country was relatively stable, the neighboring Shi Hao Country was in utter chaos. A righteous official from Shi Hao, a long-time friend of their sect, had sent a secret letter, claiming that a powerful eunuch was trying to eradicate him and implicate innocent people. This official, renowned in the Shi Hao court alongside the “Literary Courage Imperial Censor,” stated in his letter that he was willing to remain in the capital and sacrifice himself for the nation, so that the barbarian riders of Great Li would know that Shi Hao still had some fearless scholars. However, he hoped that his martial arts friends could escort his family members to Mei You Country for refuge, allowing him to depart in peace.

Once they passed the Leaving-Behind Pass, the horses’ hooves would be treading on the land of Shi Hao Country.

In his letter, the official had written a sentence with great emphasis, leaving the old martial artist and his fellow disciples deeply moved. It was this that compelled him to lead his disciples on this perilous journey, riding across the martial world with unwavering determination.

“The Han family is benevolent, and emperors of all dynasties have valued scholars, fostering them for two centuries without fail. We scholars cannot all fail the Han family.”

Sitting on his horse, the old man sighed inwardly. The Great Li iron cavalry was also pressing down on the Mei You Country with overwhelming force. Was it so difficult to find a safe haven for the common people and a peaceful place for scholars under this vast sky?

This seasoned veteran, who had witnessed countless bloody battles and the ebb and flow of power, harbored a hidden thought deep within his heart: perhaps it would be better if the Great Li barbarians conquered the Zhu Ying Dynasty sooner rather than later. From great chaos, perhaps a chance for great order would arise. In any case, it would be better than the Great Li’s few iron cavalry units, acting like knives opening wounds in the vassal states of Zhu Ying, slowly and painfully cutting away at the land, with the common people suffering the most. Setting aside other matters, the Great Li barbarians were merciless on the battlefield, killing swiftly and decisively. However, if one were to shift their gaze northward, to the Bottle Continent where the smoke of war had gradually dissipated, countless refugees were already returning to their ancestral homes. The Great Li civil officials stationed in various locations had done some things that were, surprisingly, quite humane.

However, such treasonous words, destined to be wrong if spoken aloud, could only be washed down with the old man’s gulps of aged wine.

Meanwhile, three riders galloped onward.

They were still helping Yin spirits and ghosts fulfill their myriad desires. Zeng Ye and Ma Duyi were also managing the soup kitchens and pharmacies, though they didn’t have much to do as Mei You Country was relatively peaceful.

The world was in turmoil, and times were bad. The common people were ignorant, fearful, and helpless.

Near a mountain stream in the wilderness, Chen Ping’an and his companions encountered a strange scene. A band of brigands was looking at a middle-aged Daoist lying on a boulder in the stream, their faces etched with worry.

The gaunt middle-aged Daoist, originally from a minor Daoist sect of the Zhu Ying Dynasty, possessed a cultivation at the Cave Realm. He had initially felt that in times of chaos, a Daoist should descend from the mountains to aid the common people. However, he encountered a hemp-robed diviner skilled in physiognomy, who was indeed a master. The diviner took one look at him and declared that he was a pitiable man destined to die young and live a life of hunger and cold. The middle-aged Daoist was heartbroken and began to await his demise.

The band of bandits, having recently completed a deal and obtained a substantial sum of silver, stopped their horses by the stream. Upon seeing this strange man on the verge of death, they almost ended his life with a single blade. However, to their surprise, the Daoist was overjoyed and begged them to kill him quickly. The young bandit hesitated, unsure of what to do. The Daoist was determined to die and proceeded to lecture the band of robbers, who were accustomed to robbery and theft. He spoke of karmic retribution and the consequences of their actions. After all, he was a mid-tier immortal in the eyes of the common people, a Daoist with a proper lineage. He possessed knowledge and eloquence, and managed to dissuade them from their evil intentions. The bandits, from the leader to the underlings, exchanged uneasy glances and, instead, tried to persuade the middle-aged Daoist not to take his life.

And so, Chen Ping’an stumbled upon this scene.

The bandits no longer had any intention of killing and robbing, especially since they didn’t think the three riders were easy prey. They deliberately ignored them.

Chen Ping’an, on the other hand, was unconcerned. He stopped his horse to wash its nose, started a fire to cook, and carried on as usual.

The middle-aged Daoist, seeing that the bandits wouldn’t kill him, and unable to die easily due to his Cave Realm physique, simply continued to lie on the stone, awaiting his end.

If the bandits were to become greedy and target the three riders, the middle-aged Daoist would certainly intervene, taking it as a small act of merit before his death, hoping to be reborn into a better life, at least one with longevity, so that he could continue his Daoist cultivation.

Chen Ping’an squatted by the riverbank, eating from his bowl, while the bandits were also starting their meal nearby.

A hot-tempered young bandit noticed Chen Ping’an’s gaze and glared at him, “What are you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen heroes eating?!”

The bandit leader kindly brought a bowl of rice to the middle-aged Daoist on the stone, saying that waiting to die like this was pointless. He suggested that the Daoist should eat his fill and then, on a day with thunder, go to the top of a mountain or under a tree and see if he could get struck by lightning, which would be a clean and definitive end. The middle-aged Daoist thought there was some merit to this idea and considered buying a large iron chain in the city. However, he still didn’t accept the bowl of rice, saying that he wasn’t hungry. He began to ramble on again, advising the bandits that if they had such compassion, why not simply become good people and stop being bandits? With the current chaos, wouldn’t it be better to become escorts?

The bandit leader was somewhat moved. He left the boulder in the river, bowl in hand, and went back to discuss it with his brothers.

Chen Ping’an found it amusing.

After finishing his rice, Chen Ping’an lightly tapped his toes and floated towards the boulder. His green robe fluttered in the breeze as he gracefully landed beside the middle-aged Daoist.

The young bandit almost spat out a mouthful of rice, but the bandit leader slapped him on the head, “What are you gawking at? Haven’t you ever seen heroes of the martial world?!”

Chen Ping’an sat cross-legged on the boulder and smiled, “Daoist, why do you seek death?”

The middle-aged Daoist was actually a kind person. He closed his eyes and said softly, “My fate is to die. The Great Dao is hopeless. Why not die?”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “Daoist, are you aware that the three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism all highly revere a certain ‘classic’? Ah, yes, the ancient book known as the ‘Head of the Classics’. There is a saying that the Great Dao is fifty, the Heavenly Dao evolves to forty-nine, and humanity escapes by one?”
The middle-aged Daoist nodded, “The Great衍 number is fifty, its use forty-nine. We can say Dao begets One, One begets Two, giving rise to all things.”

Chen Ping’an said, “When demonic obstacles arise, it is especially arduous for those who cultivate the Dao. Even with a million soldiers at one’s command, it is difficult to vanquish the enemy within.”

The middle-aged Daoist sat up, sighing mournfully, “I understand the principle, but I am merely a cultivator of mediocre talent in the Cave Mansion Realm. How dare I aspire to the Grand Dao? I am truly cautious and fearful. After much thought, I still cannot break through the inner barrier. I can only hope for the next life.”

Chen Ping’an glanced at the mountain bandits nearby and nodded, “Indeed, it is easy to defeat bandits in the mountains, but difficult to subdue the bandits within the heart. It’s all the same.”

The middle-aged Daoist forced a smile, “I appreciate your good intentions.”

A gaunt, middle-aged Daoist, and a haggard young man, met by chance amidst the mountains and rivers.

They spoke only to a point, then parted ways, without further exchange.

The band of bandits breathed a collective sigh of relief, especially the young bandit, who felt as if he had just narrowly escaped the gates of hell.

Zeng Ye could not comprehend the middle-aged Daoist’s thoughts. As they rode away, he asked softly, “Mr. Chen, are there truly people in this world who willingly await death?”

Chen Ping’an nodded, “On the path of cultivation, there are countless oddities. That Daoist, according to the Buddhist saying, must first attain self-salvation before he can be jolted into enlightenment. Otherwise, even if a high-ranking monk strikes him with a staff, it will not lead to instant Buddhahood, only a bump on the head and a cry of pain. Hmm, have you two heard of a Buddhist koan? A high monk said, ‘The mind is like a clear mirror stand; constantly wipe it clean, lest it attract dust.’ Another said, ‘Originally, there is nothing; where can dust alight?’ Do you think there is a superior and inferior between these two verses?”

Zeng Ye shook his head, “I don’t understand these things.”

Ma Duyi smiled, “Of course, the latter is higher.”

Chen Ping’an sighed softly, “In terms of Buddhist ideals, perhaps the latter is higher. But the former is like a ferry boat that ordinary mortals can board. Only when those who seek to ferry themselves across, put down the bamboo pole in their hands, get up and go ashore, and finally take that step off the boat, can they say they have grasped the latter. Gradual enlightenment is the foundation of sudden enlightenment. There is, in fact, an order of precedence here. In life, the mirror of the mind is covered in dust. If it is not wiped, it will accumulate grime and become dull and lightless. There are no Buddhas born enlightened, arriving directly at the other shore.”

Chen Ping’an smiled and added, “Both verses are good, both are correct. The reason I am chatting with you about this is that on my recent travels to the Qingluan Kingdom, I heard scholars discussing Buddhism. They disdained the former, only extolling the latter. Furthermore, in some miscellaneous books resembling literary jottings, they liked to subtly denigrate the former. I felt that this was not quite right.”

Ma Duyi laughed, “I rarely heard Mr. Chen mention Buddhism before. So you are already well-versed in it. Mr. Chen is truly widely read, I admire you very much…”

Ma Duyi made a face, “I can’t go on, I can’t even convince myself.”

Chen Ping’an smiled slightly, “This shows that your flattery skills are not yet up to par.”

After that, the three riders came across a scenic and ancient site with a touch of immortal aura, a bottomless pool without an owner. In early autumn, it was already chillingly cold, like the depths of winter. Carved on the stone wall was a vermilion inscription that could not be found in the local county records, “Ancient wall, painted dragon, golden-tipped tail, the rain master rides into the autumn pool.” The three looked up and saw traces of colorful paintings on the wall, vaguely discernible as the form of a dragon. At their feet, the pool water was emerald green, without any fish or shrimp.

Chen Ping’an retracted his gaze and reached into the pool. Chills ran through him, and he inexplicably thought of the Ruan family shop in his hometown, built on the riverbank, which had taken a fancy to the submerged spiritual energies of the Dragon Whisker River. This deep pool was also suitable for tempering sword edges, but he wondered why no immortal sword cultivator had built a thatched hut here to cultivate the Dao. Chen Ping’an suddenly withdrew his hand. The coldness in the water was not pure, mixed with a great deal of yin and turbid energies, like a tangled mess. Although it would not immediately harm the body, it was far from being “pure”. No wonder, this was a major taboo for cultivators tempering swords.

There must have been a story here long ago.

Perhaps like the Flying Eagle Fortress and the Upper Sun Terrace in the Tongye Continent.

Chen Ping’an later traveled far to the Mei You Kingdom, passing through villages and county towns. Children, unaccustomed to seeing fine steeds, would run into the deep reeds to hide. From time to time, he would encounter seemingly ordinary wandering cultivators, as well as wedding processions with gongs and drums, and great fanfare on the streets of county towns. Over a long journey, traversing mountains and rivers, Chen Ping’an and his companions inadvertently came across a desolate and overgrown burial ground, and discovered an ancient sword, buried in a tombstone, with only the hilt visible. Even after thousands of years, its sword aura was still chilling. It was clearly a remarkable spiritual weapon, but due to its age and lack of nurture, it was on the verge of shattering. Ma Duyi wanted to take it, since it was unowned. With some grinding and repairs, it might be sold for a good price. But Chen Ping’an refused, saying it was a Taoist artifact used to suppress the feng shui of this place, in order to restrain the yin and baleful energies, preventing them from spreading and becoming a calamity.

As a yin entity, Ma Duyi naturally saw this, but did not care. He laughed, “Then let’s pull out the ancient sword. If a demon or monster really appears in the desolate tomb, we can simply subdue the demons and eliminate the monsters, obtain the spiritual weapon, and accumulate merit. Wouldn’t that be killing two birds with one stone?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head, “Old debts and muddled accounts, how can we know if there are no hidden reasons or twists?”

Ma Duyi complained, “Mr. Chen is good in every way, but he is just too indecisive in his actions.”

Chen Ping’an laughed, “Even a young child with insufficient strength can break a bowl. That can also be considered a kind of decisiveness. Zeng Ye can do it. Those bandits, Zeng Ye can kill them without hesitation. You can do it, and of course, it’s even easier for me.”

Chen Ping’an sighed, “The confluence of people’s hearts is a terrifying thing. A lone person entering an ancient temple, burning incense and worshiping Buddha, will feel reverence. But if it is noisy and crowded with people, they may not be afraid. To put it more extremely, if someone starts scraping gold leaf off the Buddha’s body, it might be done.”

Riding his horse through the burial mounds, Chen Ping’an suddenly turned his head to look back, but there was no one, and no ghosts.

Once, while resting by a mountain lake, Zeng Ye picked up stones and skipped them across the water. Ma Duyi chose a secluded spot, took off his boots, dipped his feet into the cool water, stretched languidly, and smiled broadly. A dragonfly hovered nearby, landing on his jade hairpin.

Ma Duyi stopped moving, wanting it to stay a little longer.
In the distance, a young woodcutter with a bundle of firewood on his shoulder inadvertently passed by. He stopped, gazing foolishly at her, mistaking her for a celestial maiden. The young man felt a burgeoning affection, yet also a sense of inadequacy.

Ma Duyi reached out to shoo away a dragonfly. Turning her head, she pinched the fox fur at her temple, intending to suddenly pull it off and startle the gawking country boy.

However, Chen Pingan flicked a small pebble, knocking away her fingers.

In a fit of pique, Ma Duyi turned around, her legs dangling, splashing countless droplets of water.

The young man quickly ran off.

He didn’t plan to tell the other villagers that he had seen such a beautiful celestial sister by the lake. He would quietly keep it in his heart.

In a bustling county town, even Chen Pingan, who was used to seeing many things, was astounded.

There was a drunken scholar, running wildly, his clothes dishevelled, chest and shoulders exposed, his steps unsteady, yet exuding a heroic air. He made his page carry a bucket full of ink, and the scholar used his head as a brush to “write” on the street.

At the ends of the street, there were also servants, with buckets filled with well water, waiting for their master to finish his madness so they could clean up the mess.

It wasn’t exactly tiring work, but they were constantly subjected to glares. They were angry but dared not speak out against their eccentric master.

Upon asking the locals, they learned that he was actually a county commandant, with both scholarly honors and an official position.

Chen Pingan stopped his horse at the roadside. He saw the county commandant collapsing on the street, exhausted. The young man, covered in wine and ink, with a bizarre aroma, turned his head. He vigorously slapped the street with his palm and loudly exclaimed, “I respectfully present my calligraphy to the deities. Dare I ask if the deities have the courage to give me some guidance? Where are the ancient sages? Come, come, and drink with me!”

Suddenly, the young man wailed, “I once saw a princess vying for the road with a porter in the capital and gained the true meaning of calligraphy. Then, I saw the princess plucking flowers at a temple and gained the divine essence of calligraphy. Your Highness, will you glance at the words I wrote for you?”

Zeng Ye said in astonishment, “Master Chen, what did this fellow write? I can’t recognize a single character.”

Chen Pingan suppressed a smile, pointed to the street, and softly said, “It’s written in wild cursive script, a poem of longing. As for the content, the last line he wrote was, ‘The moon shines through the window gauze, her seductive eyes gleam, let us drink sweet wine together.’ Hmm, it’s probably imagining the voice of the woman he admires, writing a love poem for himself. However, these characters are truly well-written, so well-written that it’s beyond compare. I’ve never seen such excellent cursive script before. I’ve seen masters of regular and semi-cursive script, but this level of cursive script is a first.”

Chen Pingan concluded, “Don’t think that the county commandant is just talking nonsense. His characters truly possess a divine essence. It’s just that the spiritual energy here is thin, and door gods and spirits cannot survive for long. Otherwise, they would truly appear and bow down to him.”

Chen Pingan suddenly smiled, leading his horse forward, striding towards the drunken, teary-eyed book-madman and lovelorn, “Let’s go, buy calligraphy from him! Buy as much as we can! This deal is a sure profit! It’s far better than your painstaking treasure hunting! But the premise is that we can live for a hundred or several hundred years.”

Zeng Ye and Ma Duyi exchanged glances, feeling that Master Chen might have also gone mad.

Chen Pingan came to the scholar lying face up on the ground and asked with a smile, “I have fine wine that is not inferior to the celestial brews. Can I buy some of your calligraphy?”

The man squinted his drunken eyes and shook his head, “Beg me?”

Chen Pingan nodded with a smile, “I beg you.”

The man suddenly cried out in sorrow, “You’re not Her Highness the Princess, why should I write for you? What do I want you to beg me for? Go, go, I won’t sell you any characters, not a single one.”

Chen Pingan turned to look at Ma Duyi, and as everyone’s attention shifted, he flicked his wrist and took out a pot of the Immortal Brew from the Well of Bee Tail Ferry from his spatial storage. He released the horse’s reins, opened the mud seal, squatted down, and handed the wine pot to the scholar, “Sell or not, drink my wine first. If you still don’t want to after drinking, then consider it my respect for your cursive script written on the street.”

The man sat up, took the wine pot, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one gulp. He casually tossed the empty wine pot away, swayed as he stood up, and grabbed Chen Pingan’s arm, “Is there any more wine?”

Chen Pingan smiled, “There is, but not much left.”

The man said gleefully, “Let’s go to that dilapidated yamen. I’ll write calligraphy for you, as much as you want, as long as there’s enough wine!”

Ma Duyi rolled her eyes.

What about the scholar’s integrity?

Zeng Ye was a bit happy, rarely seeing Master Chen so cheerful.

Upon arriving at the yamen, the scholar pushed aside the messy books on the desk, had the page fetch Xuan paper to spread out, and grind ink on the side. Chen Pingan placed a pot of wine at the scholar’s hand.

On the walls, there were all kinds of chaotic cursive scripts that the scholar himself couldn’t even fully recognize after sobering up.

After drinking the wine, the scholar hiccuped and asked, “Say it, what do you want this madman to write? To send to some knowledgeable prime minister or noble? Forget it, I don’t want to know. What you want to write doesn’t count, I’ll write whatever I want.”

As the brush fell, clouds and smoke arose, and the hall was filled with the sound of wind and rain.

The scholar truly wrote whatever came to mind, often writing countless characters with a single stroke, making Zeng Ye feel that this deal was a loss.

In the end, the scholar, who had a good capacity for alcohol but wasn’t a good drinker, wrote a dozen or so pieces of calligraphy of varying sizes before completely passing out drunk.

Chen Pingan spent a total of five pots of the Immortal Brew from the Well, Osmanthus Wine from Old Dragon City, and Crow’s Cry Wine from Book Brief Lake.

The reason he could drink so much wasn’t that the scholar really had a huge capacity, but that he drank half a pot and spilled most of the other half, which, in the eyes of the distressed Ma Duyi, was truly a waste of resources.

Chen Pingan carefully collected the calligraphy and left the yamen.

The three of them led their horses away, and Ma Duyi couldn’t help but ask, “The calligraphy is good, I can see that, but is it really that good? These immortal brews are worth a lot of snowflakes, converting them into silver, can a single piece of cursive calligraphy really be worth thousands or tens of thousands of taels of silver?”

Chen Pingan, having obtained the calligraphy, was overjoyed, as if he himself was drunk, and said with certainty, “You don’t believe me? Then just wait. Someday when you come here again, this street will definitely be famous throughout the world. Even after that scholar passes away hundreds or thousands of years later, the entire county town will benefit from it and be remembered by future generations.”
The trio slowly departed from the small county town. At this moment, the townsfolk still regarded the eccentric calligrapher magistrate as a mere laughingstock, unaware of the future’s great masters of calligraphy and countless literati who would envy their fortune in witnessing his presence.

This year’s Mid-Autumn Festival saw families in Plum Glaze Kingdom largely reunited.

But the same could not be said for Stone Mill Kingdom.

Next year’s Mid-Autumn Festival might see Plum Glaze Kingdom in the same bleak state as Stone Mill Kingdom now.

Deep within the mountains, many spirits and demons dwelled.

Another autumn passed, and winter arrived.

As Chen Ping’an was about to complete his journey through Plum Glaze Kingdom and return to Scroll Lake, one day, deep in a remote mountain range, his keen eyes spotted a high cliff. Dangling upside down was an old ape in tattered rags, bound by iron chains. Sensing Chen Ping’an’s gaze, the old ape bared its fangs in a ferocious grimace. Though it didn’t roar, its violent aura was terrifying.

Near the old ape was a man-made stone cave. When Chen Ping’an looked, a young monk with a withered face stood up and met his gaze. The monk pressed his palms together and bowed silently.

Chen Ping’an mirrored the monk’s gesture, returning a respectful bow.

Ma Duyi asked curiously, “What’s wrong?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head, saying nothing.

Only after leaving the mountain range did Chen Ping’an say, “There’s a venerable monk with great perseverance subduing a wild heart-ape manifested from his own inner demons.”

Ma Duyi clicked his tongue in wonder, “To be able to manifest inner demons, isn’t that monk a terrestrial immortal?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “A reclusive master.”

Inside the stone cave, the young monk sat back down on his meditation cushion, then stood again, stepping out of the cave, riding the wind. He floated in the air, facing the gradually calming old ape. The ape’s eyes were complex, filled with sorrow, resentment, hatred, plea, pity, ridicule, and more.

The monk turned his head, seemingly puzzled.

Why was his heart-ape so different today?

It had never even glanced at passing terrestrial immortal cultivators riding swords or the wind.

The young monk seemed to realize something, a smile appearing on his face. He bowed again, chanting a Buddhist prayer before returning to the cave to continue his austere meditation.

An aged cultivator with a detached expression and desolate eyes appeared at the mass grave where the ancient sword was driven into the tombstone. The earth reeked of Yin energy. Even sensing that he was likely a terrestrial immortal of the Yang realm, the vengeful ghosts and Yin creatures hiding deep within the mountain roots remained stubbornly unyielding, gathering baleful energy to try and surge out. However, each time a vengeful ghost rose, a rain of sword Qi would fall. Howls echoed from beneath the earth.

The old cultivator was naturally not afraid of these Yin creatures, but he frowned, muttering to himself, “Strange. Not afraid of the Golden Core aura I deliberately release, but afraid of a nondescript young man?”

Rarely, they lodged at an immortal inn.

Ma Duyi collapsed onto the soft bedding, his face filled with ecstasy. “One must endure hardship, but also enjoy comfort!”

Zeng Ye didn’t seem to notice anything special and practiced his cultivation alone in the room.

Chen Ping’an ordered an immortal gazette from the inn. The Plum Glaze Kingdom court had also begun to argue, but not about whether to resist the Great Li barbarians, but about how to defend their territory to the death.

Keep in mind, this decision was made by the Plum Glaze Kingdom’s rulers under the dire situation of Stone Mill Kingdom’s capital already being breached.

The chaotic Stone Mill Kingdom court finally welcomed a new Emperor, the “Wise King” Han Jingling, father of Huang He. Huang He’s father, who didn’t lose a single soldier on the battlefield, became the top general of Stone Mill Kingdom. Huang He, a close friend of the new Emperor Han Jingling, was also enfeoffed, soaring to become the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Rites. Father and son served in the same court, and a large number of Huang family members rose with them, jointly dominating the court and enjoying boundless glory.

From the Stone Mill Kingdom’s capital to the provinces, countless civil and military officials bravely faced death, unwilling to perform even the smallest tasks, such as posting foreign door gods at their gates.

Some family descendants, unwilling to be harmed by their own masters, secretly posted door god portraits of the Great Li Yuan and Cao ancestors. Some ruthless ones simply tied up their family heads to prevent them from tearing down the door gods, even if they were scolded as unfilial descendants who shamed their ancestors.

The myriad faces of life, each knowing its own joys and sorrows.

In this beautifully written immortal gazette, the trivial matters written as after-dinner amusement were life-and-death events for those families, tragedies of ruin and exile.

Scroll Lake was even more earth-shattering and heart-stirring than the insignificant Stone Mill Kingdom.

Starting this autumn, Su Gaoshan began to “settle accounts after the harvest.”

The factions led by islands like Millet Island, Oriole Island, and Azure Mound Heavenly Mother Island surrendered to the Great Li Song Clan, willing to hand over half of their fortunes and the important Ancestral Hall Genealogy.

Su Gaoshan hosted a banquet at the Fan family mansion in Pool Water City, but only in his name. He sent only a third-rank subordinate general and a few accompanying cultivators drawn from the military units to represent him and entertain the heroes.

Su Gaoshan was unwilling to give even this much face to the Scroll Lake local bullies who had obediently submitted.

Chen Ping’an wasn’t surprised by this.

Previously, he used the Azure Gorge Island tribute plaque and the Peace Talisman to submit a “calling card” to the Great Li Iron Cavalry, saying he wanted to meet the main general. Su Gaoshan’s reply was blunt, clearly the general’s own words: “Get lost.”

He wasn’t angry or frustrated, just somewhat helpless.

As for Azure Gorge Island, which had lost Liu Zhimao’s leadership, it also didn’t want to lag behind. The forces led by Su Lin Island’s Tian Hujun and Golden Core Yu Gui, a few Golden Core cultivators influential enough to stir up storms in Scroll Lake, also sat at the banquet in the Fan family mansion in Pool Water City, but their positions weren’t in the front, not even as good as Heavenly Mother Island.

This was the way of the wild cultivators of Scroll Lake.

They dared to risk their lives and knew when to admit defeat. When the situation was good, they could act like ancestors. When the situation was bad, they could act like grandsons.
Chen Ping’an surmised that some island cultivators were unwilling to hand over half of their assets so readily. However, it likely wouldn’t require the iron cavalry of the Great Li Dynasty or the accompanying cultivators to take action. Forces like Tan Yuanyi of Grain Millet Island and the two Golden Core Daoist couples of Yellow Oriole Island would help Su Gaoshan resolve all the “minor troubles.” There was no need for General Su to exert himself. He would happily accept those heads and island assets as congratulatory gifts for Su Gaoshan.

However, the key reason Su Gaoshan so easily sliced through the cultivators of Shujian Lake, like cutting tofu with a knife, was not only due to the glorious achievements of his own iron cavalry, and the Shujian Lake rogue cultivators’ superficial unity and penchant for opportunistic behavior. Another Great Li General, Cao Ping’s, relentless advance was also crucial. Of course, the most important factor was the rumor that Great Li’s Prince Consort, Song Changjing, would personally accompany a prince of the Song family to inspect the border line where Cao Ping’s iron cavalry was confronting the Zhu Ying Dynasty.

Chen Ping’an put down the official gazette.

He crossed his arms inside his sleeves, lost in thought.

There was still no definite news about Liu Zhimao’s fate.

Logically speaking, Su Gaoshan would likely try to win over a Grand Cultivator like Liu Zhimao, who knew how to assess the situation, especially since Liu Zhimao was an early convert to the Great Li cause, practically one of their own.

The problem lay with that group of foreign cultivators from Gongliu Island, whom Liu Laocheng described as having “unpleasant faces.” Their identities remained unknown.

It seemed that this group was deciding Liu Zhimao’s fate, and even Liu Laocheng could only grit his teeth and accept it. They prevented Su Gaoshan from adding luster to his achievements and gaining a readily available Nascent Soul cultivator for the Great Li.

What a formidable background.

Chen Ping’an rubbed his brow.

Could it be the severely weakened Tongye Sect? Had they gritted their teeth, hardened their hearts, and relocated to Shujian Lake?

But that would require paying too great a price. Cultivators could migrate to other continents in large numbers, but the mountain and water geomancy they had cultivated for thousands of years within Tongye Sect’s territory could not be taken away.

Involving a large-scale migration between two continents, only the spiritual Qi of blessed lands and grotto heavens could be moved. Nothing else was possible.

Furthermore, with such a large movement, Tongye Sect was already riddled with internal strife. During the migration, wolves would surround them, eager to tear into the fat. When it came to the Great Dao, even sects like the Faji Sect of Taiping Mountain, which were not lacking in righteousness, would not hesitate to act if they decided to strike.

Moreover, Tongye Sect cultivators were arrogant and accustomed to being the leaders of a major continent. Would they really be willing to settle down in the small Baoping Continent, possibly even living under the thumb of the Great Li Song family, a secular dynasty?

The Faji Sect seemed more plausible.

However, the way that group of cultivators acted towards Liu Zhimao, especially their “petty schemes” to harm him, didn’t make sense.

Chen Ping’an stood up and went to the window. This immortal inn was built on the banks of the Great River, offering a wide view. Outside the window, the river surged, and boats came and went, appearing as small as millet grains in the distance.

The country of Meiyou was crisscrossed by waterways, with numerous rivers. This was probably one of the reasons why the imperial court dared to fight to the death.

On the river, a line of warships slowly advanced against the current. However, the water surface was vast, and even with countless banners, the towering warships seemed as light as a feather.

Chen Ping’an leaned on the windowsill.

Zeng Ye and Ma Duyi arrived together, saying they wanted to visit the Water God Temple on the Chunhua River. It was said that making wishes there was particularly effective, and that the old Water God liked to tease mortal scholars.

Chen Ping’an had no interest in that, so he let them explore the temple on their own. However, he reminded Ma Duyi that after entering the temple grounds, since they were, after all, ghosts wearing fox skins, they should first offer their apologies and explain their intentions to the Water God Temple. Otherwise, it would be considered an offense against the local mountains and waters, and if a conflict arose, they would be in the wrong. In that case, he would have to apologize and pay for the damages. Anyway, Ma Duyi and Zeng Ye would have to pay for the divine money themselves, it couldn’t be charged to Chen Ping’an. Ma Duyi laughed and said he knew, after traveling so far, did Mr. Chen still need to remind him of such rules?

Chen Ping’an was both amused and exasperated.

So far? You and Zeng Ye have only traveled through the territories of two tributary states.

However, Chen Ping’an didn’t say these things. He waved his hand, indicating that they should go out and have fun. Otherwise, he would inevitably be needled by Ma Duyi.

Just as Zeng Ye was closing the door, Chen Ping’an took off the sword-nourishing gourd and tossed it to Zeng Ye, saying it was in case of emergencies.

Zeng Ye was naturally overjoyed, but as soon as he closed the door, Ma Duyi snatched it away and hung it on her waist.

Zeng Ye was helpless.

Chen Ping’an smiled knowingly at this.

For a man to yield to a woman, and for the strong to yield to the weak, and without any condescending airs, wasn’t that the natural order of things?

Only such a world would slowly become flawless and gradually improve.

All principles and knowledge must ultimately fall back on order.

Take a few more steps, and one has traveled so far.

Think a little more, and one has thought so much.

Feeling both tired and relaxed, Chen Ping’an simply leaned on the windowsill, closed his eyes, and dozed off.

Where my heart is at peace, that is my home.

Where can I not sleep in my home?

Several dozen li away, in the Chunhua River Water God Temple, an old man lying on the roof beam of the temple hall, gnawing on a chicken leg, with apricot blossoms in his hair and wearing embroidered clothes, looked quite comical. Suddenly, he shuddered, almost dropping the greasy chicken leg onto the head of a worshiper in the hall. This old Water God, who had originated from a water spirit and had been fortunate enough to be chosen by a gentleman from the Guanhai Academy, which allowed him to be cast into a golden statue and enjoy human incense offerings, leaped into the air, transformed into a phantom, passed through the roof of the hall, and looked around in panic. He bowed in all directions, trembling and saying, “Which sage has graced us with their presence? This humble deity is terrified, terrified!”

And the “culprit”.

Was taking a break, dozing off.

With morality as armor, all evil flees, and deities yield the way.