The small town had no curfew. Under the cloak of night, Chen Ping’an left Mud Jar Lane, taking a slight detour to visit the Yang family’s shop.

After knocking, a sleepy-eyed youth opened the door, presumably the new disciple of Old Man Yang that Wei Bo had mentioned in his letter.

Chen Ping’an apologized, “Is your master asleep?”

The youth yawned and retorted, “What do you think?”

Chen Ping’an was at a loss for words.

He was so used to the scheming and eloquent language of Book Brief Lake that he found it somewhat difficult to adjust.

The youth frowned and asked, “What do you want with my master? Are you sick?”

Chen Ping’an chuckled, fell silent for a moment, and then nodded, “Indeed, I’ve come to seek a cure.”

The youth frowned even more, looking conflicted.

Under the moonlight, the young man before him had slightly sunken cheeks and a weary look, resembling someone who wouldn’t live long. His accent was local, but he had never seen him before.

His master didn’t like to show his face, so he probably wouldn’t take on this unsolicited business tonight. Besides, after the commotion some time ago, the Yang family shop’s reputation and business had suffered. They had alienated many neighbors, who now preferred to get their medicine from the apothecary in Mooncake Alley. He and his senior apprentice sister were bored stiff every day, and his master was a strange man who seemed to hate money. He never cared about the Yang family shop’s deserted state. His family had been grumbling about it and had wanted him to change his profession last year, perhaps working in the Kiln Construction Office. His uncle had even smoothed the way, but he wasn’t keen on it. He thought dealing with those officials, bowing and scraping all day, was tiresome.

Seeing that Old Man Yang had no intention of showing himself, Chen Ping’an considered visiting the shop another time. Just as he was about to bid farewell, a graceful young woman emerged from within. Her skin was slightly dark and she was rather slender, but she had the makings of a beauty. Chen Ping’an knew this woman as well. She was one of Old Man Yang’s disciples, the senior apprentice sister of the youth from Peach Leaf Lane. She had been a kiln worker from Riding Dragon Lane. There were many rules about firing kilns, such as women not being allowed near the dragon kilns, which resembled reclining dragons. Chen Ping’an didn’t know how she had become a kiln worker, but he assumed she did the rough, hard labor, as the ancestral customs were deeply ingrained and almost everyone adhered to them. They seemed even more effective than the ancestral hall precepts that bound cultivators on the mountains.

The woman’s voice was raspy and coarse, like stone grinding against stone. She slowly said, “Master said he can’t help you. From now on, friendly visits are welcome, but no business.”

Chen Ping’an nodded and smiled, “Please tell your master that I will visit again.”

The woman hesitated, glancing at the long sword on Chen Ping’an’s back, “Is the guest a pure martial artist?”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Are you too?”

The woman remained silent.

Chen Ping’an asked, “Where does Zheng Dafeng live now?”

Only then did the woman continue, “He likes to wander around the prefectural city. He doesn’t come to the shop often.”

Chen Ping’an looked at her and the sleepy-eyed youth from Peach Leaf Lane, smiling as he led his horse away.

These two natives probably didn’t know who their master really was, how many sages from the Three Teachings this Yang family shop had once received, or what it meant to be recognized as a disciple by Old Man Yang.

He wondered if anyone had once looked at him that way.

As the youth closed the shop door, he grumbled to his senior apprentice sister, who was still standing there motionlessly, “I don’t like that sickly fellow. The way he looks at people is so cold.”

Having suffered from poverty and hunger as a child, and enduring much manual labor as a young woman, the woman’s figure had only recently begun to resemble that of a typical young woman from the town. She was not eloquent, nor did she smile easily. She simply remained silent, watching the departing figure leading his horse and carrying a sword.

As the senior apprentice sister, she was more mature and had come into contact with some of her master’s abilities earlier. In less than three years, she was already a fourth-realm pure martial artist. However, to break through the most difficult third-realm bottleneck, she would rather have suffered a painful death than swallow the ointment from the porcelain bottle. Only then did she overcome that hurdle. Her master paid no attention, simply sitting there, puffing on his pipe, not even offering a sidelong glance, because the old man didn’t even look at her, focusing only on his own travels to distant lands.

After she struggled to sit up, covered in blood, she covered her face with her hands, weeping with joy. Good fortune always follows after surviving a great disaster. The old saying wouldn’t lie.

The old man glanced askance at his disciple, who had survived the ordeal, and tapped his pipe on the steps. Finally, he said, “Your temperament and resilience are only about half of someone else’s. What’s there to be so happy about? That person isn’t much older than you and was once a dragon kiln apprentice, even worse off than you, relying on himself from the start. Breaking through three realms in three years? Is that so amazing? With that kind of achievement, you want to contend for the few remaining peak realms of Treasure Bottle Continent? But I do have a suggestion. The next time he disperses martial luck as a gift, you should hold a bowl and kneel on the ground to catch the things he doesn’t want. You can’t even compare to him, yet you dare ask who Cao Ci is to Zheng Dafeng? You’re not young, but you’re not shameless either. I’ve really taken on a good disciple. Should I go to your effeminate uncle’s grave, offer a drink, and say thank you?”

Her master was usually silent, but whenever he spoke, his words could cause heartache.

She was like that, and so was her junior apprentice brother, Shi Lingshan. The only difference was that her junior apprentice brother dared to complain in private, while she did not.

Chen Ping’an led his horse to the edge of town, where Li Huai’s house was located. He paused for a moment, then walked to the end of the alley, mounted his horse, and went to the nearest small hill, Pearl Mountain, which he had bought for a single gold essence copper coin. He rode to the hilltop, looking out over the town. In the late hours of the night, only a few lights were on in various places: Fortune and Prosperity Street, Peach Leaf Lane, the county government, and the Kiln Construction Office. Turning to the northwest, he could see the new prefectural city north of the mountains, where ten thousand lights gathered, causing the night sky to glow with a faint yellow light, demonstrating the liveliness of the place. He imagined being there would be like a scene of bustling prosperity, as bright as day.

Pearl Mountain was the smallest hill in the western mountains, so small that it couldn’t be any smaller. The reason Chen Ping’an had bought it was simple: it was cheap. There was no other complicated reason.

At the time, he had thought of building a thatched cottage on Pearl Mountain so that it would be easier to go to town, since it was only a few steps away. Going back and forth between Pearl Mountain and Mud Jar Lane, even on foot, wouldn’t take much effort.
Chen Ping’an sat astride the horse, his gaze retracting from the silhouette of the town in the night, tracing a route from the town into the mountains. In his childhood, he had carried a large bamboo basket, venturing into the mountains to gather herbs, his steps unsteady. In the sweltering heat, the ropes had bitten into his shoulders, feeling like the weight of the entire Mud Bottle Alley ancestral home. It was the first time in Chen Ping’an’s life that he had wanted to give up, finding a seemingly valid excuse: “You’re too young, your strength too meager. The herb gathering can wait until tomorrow. At worst, I’ll wake up earlier and enter the mountains in the cool of the morning, instead of trekking under the scorching sun. Besides, I haven’t seen any able-bodied men working in the fields…”

Chen Ping’an softly exhaled, turned the horse’s head, and descended Mount True Pearl.

Now, entering the mountains, the road was smooth and wide, connecting mountain peaks, a far cry from the treacherous paths of the past.

The mountains stretched endlessly, and even with the roads, Serene Fall Mountain, located in the south of the mountains, still required a considerable amount of time to reach from the easternmost Mount True Pearl. Furthermore, Chen Ping’an traveled slowly, as if wanting to savor the scenery of each mountain peak, often stopping to rest or leading the horse. Consequently, it was a day and two nights later when Chen Ping’an reached the territory of Serene Fall Mountain, and this was with Qu Huang’s pace far exceeding that of ordinary steeds.

While riding, Chen Ping’an would occasionally gently nudge the horse’s flanks, and Qu Huang would seem to understand, quickening its pace and leaving a string of hoofprints on the road. Then, Chen Ping’an would turn back to look.

Over the years, he often did this, finding amusement in trivial matters, seeking respite amidst hardship.

The usually taciturn bookkeeper, in the eyes of Zeng Ye, Ma Duyi, and Gu Can, often engaged in such peculiar little activities.

He would squat on the ground, drawing a chessboard with pebbles, or repeatedly study a few go formations, or play a game of Gomoku against himself.

Alone, man and horse, delving deeper into the mountains.

It was likely Wei Bo, who had first become aware of Chen Ping’an’s movements, who consistently remained unseen.

It should be known that currently, not only the Dragon Spring Prefecture, but also the regions under the jurisdiction of the Dragon Beard River and the Iron Talisman River, as well as the area of the Embroidered Flower River and the Hanging Auspicious Wind plaque of the wronged woman’s mansion, were all under the purview of the Northern Peak. Wei Bo, residing high atop Mount Pi Yun, overlooked all beings, especially the cultivators, seeing through everything with unparalleled clarity.

However, Wei Bo’s failure to appear early was unexpected, yet within reason.

In the early years, their relationship wasn’t deep, initially maintained by A Liang. Later, it gradually evolved into friendship, with a hint of “gentleman’s acquaintance.” Wei Bo could, based solely on personal preference, take Chen Ping’an on “patrols” throughout the Northern Peak’s domain, helping to attach a talisman from the Northern Peak Mountain God Temple to Chen Ping’an. But now, their connection was much deeper, leaning towards an alliance, and they needed to be wary of appearances, even if it was just for show. Otherwise, the Great Li Dynasty would be displeased. You, Wei Bo, are after all, the first of the Five Sacred Mountains venerated by our dynasty, yet you collude with others to do business, then slash prices to death against the Great Li Song clan? Even if Wei Bo was willing to do so, completely disregarding the face of the Great Li Song clan, relying on his already secured position as the Northern Peak God, arrogant and overbearing, and unscrupulously seizing substantial benefits for himself and others, Chen Ping’an wouldn’t agree. Overnight riches versus a long-lasting friendship; the latter was obviously more secure.

Moreover, Wei Bo was always thoughtful and far-sighted, acting only after careful consideration, and he was trustworthy.

Otherwise, Chen Ping’an wouldn’t have sent so many letters to Mount Pi Yun over the years.

At the break of dawn, he finally arrived at the foot of Serene Fall Mountain.

A memorial archway had been built at the mountain gate, but no plaque had been hung yet. In fact, logically speaking, there was a Mountain God Temple atop Serene Fall Mountain, and a Mountain God plaque should be hung. However, that former kiln supervisor-turned-Mountain God was out of luck. Not only was he “living under someone else’s roof” on Serene Fall Mountain, which was Chen Ping’an’s foundation, but his relationship with Wei Bo was also strained. Furthermore, there was a profound martial arts grandmaster living in the bamboo house, and a giant black serpent often roamed around Serene Fall Mountain. Back then, Li Xisheng had used the Little Snow Awl to inscribe words and symbols on the walls of the bamboo house, causing the entire Serene Fall Mountain to sink slightly. The Mountain God Temple was the most affected. All things considered, the Serene Fall Mountain God Temple was the most desolate of the three Mountain God Temples in Dragon Spring Prefecture. This Mountain God Lord, whose body was gilded after death, could be said to be unwelcome everywhere.

Wei Bo slowly walked down the mountain, with Shi Rou following far behind.

Chen Ping’an dismounted and asked with a smile, “Where are Pei Qian and the others?”

Wei Bo said gloatingly, “I deliberately didn’t tell them your whereabouts. The three little ones still think you, their master and teacher, are returning to Dragon Spring Prefecture from Red Candle Town. They’re probably still eagerly waiting. As for Zhu Lian, he’s been wandering around the prefectural city for the past few days. He says he accidentally took a fancy to a good martial arts prospect. He wouldn’t dare to say too much, but there’s hope for the Golden Body Realm. He wants to give it to his young master as a celebratory gift for returning home.”

Chen Ping’an walked side by side with Wei Bo, Shi Rou still following far behind, merely nodding at Chen Ping’an in greeting.

Chen Ping’an said apologetically, “The matter of buying the mountain has been delayed again and again. I’m truly sorry.”

Wei Bo, dressed in white, walked along the mountain path as if treading on water like a celestial being on a lake. A golden earring hung on one side of his ear, truly a god among gods. He smiled and said, “Actually, at the end of Yongjia Eleven, this deal almost fell through. The Great Li Dynasty used the reason that the Ox Horn Mountain Immortal Ferry was not suitable to be sold to cultivators and should be incorporated into the Great Li military as a reason, clearly indicating signs of reneging. At most, they would sell you and me one or two mountains on the edge, large but useless, as a token of compensation. I couldn’t insist any further, but when the New Year came, the Great Li Ministry of Rites temporarily shelved the matter. After the New Year, when the lords of the Great Li Ministry of Rites finished their work, celebrated the holidays, and ate and drank their fill, they returned to Dragon Spring Prefecture and suddenly changed their tune, saying they could wait a little longer. I figured you must have successfully concluded things at Shujian Lake.”

Chen Ping’an said with a bitter smile, “Not successful in the slightest.”

Wei Bo turned his head and looked at Chen Ping’an’s current appearance and laughed, “I can see that. Only slightly better than the ‘bone-wasting’ that a mortal must go through when entering the path of divinity. Hideous. The look of you. Pei Qian and the others probably won’t recognize you.”

Chen Ping’an scratched his head and sighed, “Even if the mountain buying is settled, I still have a mountain of debt at Shujian Lake.”
Wei Bo smiled, “In the end, it’s just worrying about money. It’s still better than the initial emotional ups and downs, the feeling that everything I do is wrong, isn’t it too much?”

Chen Ping’an smiled broadly and nodded, “That’s the logic.”

Wei Bo suddenly said, “I have no money to lend you. I’m just an empty shell of a Northern Mountain Deity. But if you can swindle immortal money with this identity, you can take it. If you make money, it’s your skill.”

Chen Ping’an gently rubbed his hands, smiling, “I wouldn’t dare.”

Wei Bo was stunned. Judging from his tone, this didn’t seem like the Chen Ping’an from back then. It was as if he would seize the opportunity at the slightest slip of the tongue and really use the banner of the Northern Mountain Deity to make money? Wei Bo quickly patted Chen Ping’an’s shoulder, smiling, “Forget it then. I wouldn’t dare to make you feel embarrassed. Friends should understand each other…”

Shi Rou followed behind the two from a distance. To be honest, she was really startled when she saw Chen Ping’an for the first time at the entrance of Fallen Mountain.

He had changed so much in just a few years.

Could it be that after losing Sui Youbian, Lu Baixiang, Wei Xian, and Zhu Lian one after another, he had to venture into the Shujian Lake alone? And then, he was exposed by the countless rogue cultivators of Shujian Lake, ending up in a miserable state? Just being able to leave that notorious place of Baoping Continent alive was already satisfying enough? Shi Rou wouldn’t look down on Chen Ping’an because of this. After all, she knew some of the inside story of Shujian Lake’s lawlessness through Zhu Lian and Mountain God Wei Bo’s idle chats. She understood that a Chen Ping’an, even with Zhu Lian by his side, was destined to be unable to carve out a bloody path in Shujian Lake with his fists. After all, just one Intercepting River True Lord Liu Zhimao was enough to give all outsiders a hard time, not to mention Liu Laocheng returning to Shujian Lake later. That was the only rogue cultivator above the Fifth Realm in Baoping Continent.

Chen Ping’an said, “Tell Pei Qian and the others not to wait foolishly in Red Candle Town.”

Wei Bo smiled knowingly and nodded, whistling. Then he said, “Hurry back. Chen Ping’an is already at Fallen Mountain.”

Like a duckweed, spinning in a swift current, it flashed by.

Then, near a roof ridge in Red Candle Town, Wei Bo’s familiar voice rang out beside the three little ones, Pei Qian and the others.

Pei Qian, who was propping up her cheeks, widened her eyes, “Really?”

The green-robed boy, who was lying on the roof sunbathing, rubbed his chin, “I think Wei Bo is bluffing, bored and teasing us.”

The pink-skirted girl sitting beside Pei Qian said softly, “Mr. Wei shouldn’t lie about this kind of thing, right?”

Pei Qian suddenly stood up, clenching her fists and bumping them lightly together, “My master is so elusive! He caught the three of us off guard without a sound. Isn’t he amazing!”

The pink-skirted girl covered her mouth and smiled.

The green-robed boy said irritably, “Amazing my foot! We’ve been waiting here for so many days for nothing. I’m going to demand a red envelope from him as soon as I see him. I’ll get mad at Chen Ping’an if I get one less.”

Pei Qian turned to look at the green-robed boy, one small hand simultaneously pressing on the hilt of the saber and sword at her waist. She said earnestly, “Friends are friends, but master is the most important thing. If you keep being so undisciplined and always thinking about taking advantage of my master, I’ll take your dog’s head.”

She spoke in a very old-fashioned manner, which was Pei Qian’s usual style.

Perhaps because of her young age, she liked to say big and strange words, so it was difficult to tell which of Pei Qian’s words were sincere and which were just idle chatter.

The green-robed boy rolled his eyes, “With your mediocre skills?”

Pei Qian shook her head, “I’m close to Old Cook. I’ll ask him to kill you first, then I’ll take your dog’s head. I didn’t say anything wrong.”

The pink-skirted girl was a little nervous, afraid that the two would start fighting at the slightest disagreement.

Although they often bickered and argued, they had never actually fought. The two often liked to engage in “verbal battles,” using their words to describe earth-shattering immortal techniques to compete for superiority.

The green-robed boy weighed the strength of a Distant Excursion Realm martial artist, the relationship between the Old Cook and Pei Qian, and the fact that Wei Bo, that snob, seemed to think highly of Pei Qian. He felt extremely distressed and immediately jumped up, forced to put on a flattering face, “Miss Pei, why are you so sensitive? Chen Ping’an is your master and my master, too! Harmony brings wealth. Why are you talking about dog’s heads and stuff? Besides, I’m not a dog! I’m a great flood dragon whose shoulders have been patted by the three leaders of the Daoist sect several times! In our Lizhu Grotto-Heaven and Longquan County, who dares? With my heroic spirit, you should respect me a little more. Don’t say such hurtful things in the future. It’s childish and not good.”

Pei Qian said seriously, “I wasn’t kidding with you. We Jianghu people keep our word!”

The green-robed boy said with a smile, “I know, I know.”

The pink-skirted girl breathed a sigh of relief.

It was good that the two of them hadn’t fallen out. Otherwise, she really wouldn’t know how to act as a peacemaker.

The three of them skimmed across the rooftops of Red Candle Town and soon left the town, entering the mountains. A black snake, coiled up in an uninhabited place, slithered out, its belly crushing a deep mark, creating an astonishing spectacle. Pei Qian was the first to jump onto the head of the Fallen Mountain black snake, sitting cross-legged with the bamboo saber and sword stacked on her lap.

The pink-skirted girl sat in the center of the black snake’s back.

The green-robed boy stood on the black snake’s tail, swaying back and forth. But when he looked at the thin back of that dark-skinned girl, he felt a sense of unease. Just now, he had once again felt the dark-skinned girl’s seemingly natural pressure.

This uncomfortable feeling made him very uneasy.

He first noticed the change in Pei Qian in the mountains when they were chasing after that stray mutt that had become a demon. Pei Qian was covered in wood chips and had a few small cuts on her face from the branches of trees. Finally, after much effort, they blocked the path of the “wild dog.” She was completely unaware of the insignificant injuries on her body, her eyes only on the desperate wild dog, her eyes shining brightly. Her thumb pressed against the hilt of the saber, slowly pushing the saber out of its sheath. She crouched down, staring intently at the wild dog, her eyes becoming more intense with every inch the bamboo saber was drawn.

From that moment on, the green-robed boy no longer regarded Pei Qian as an innocent little girl.
He even felt a bit puzzled. How could the upright gentleman Chen Ping’an choose such a little oddity as his disciple? And the first disciple, at that?

The black snake, hailing from Chessboard Mound, was incredibly familiar with the mountain path back home.

Pei Qian, the blue-robed boy, and the pink-skirted girl, each harbored their own thoughts.

Pei Qian lightly tapped the black snake’s head with the bottom of her knife sheath, frowning. “Don’t slack off. Hurry up, or one day when I’ve mastered the Mad Demon Sword Technique, I’ll use you for practice.”

The “underling” black snake had no choice but to pick up the pace.

Back at Fallen Phoenix Mountain.

Chen Ping’an returned to the bamboo house, filled with mixed emotions.

Along the way, Wei Bo and Chen Ping’an had finished their conversation. Wei Bo, using his innate mountain deity ability to shrink the earth, had returned to Cloud-Draping Mountain first.

Shi Rou watched Chen Ping’an’s figure ascend to the second floor, hesitated for a moment, and moved a bamboo chair to sit under the eaves. She was very curious about the relationship between Chen Ping’an and the old man surnamed Cui.

The old man didn’t seem like a pure martial artist. More like a retired scholar living in seclusion. Wei Bo and Zhu Lian seemed to tacitly agree to not say much about him in front of her, acting as if the old man didn’t exist.

The old man had initially wanted to nurture Pei Qian, but the moment he lightly tested her physique, Pei Qian was rolling on the ground, snot and tears streaming down her face. She looked pitifully at the old man, who at the time had an expression of someone who had accidentally stepped in dog droppings. Taking advantage of the old man’s stunned trance, Pei Qian tiptoed away, and for several days didn’t approach the bamboo house. She wandered aimlessly in the mountains, and later simply left the western mountains to work as a small shopkeeper in Dragon-Riding Lane’s pastry shop, determined to never see that old man again. After that, the old man gave up on Pei Qian. Occasionally, standing on the second floor, gazing at the scenery, he would glance at Pei Qian and see her as if a young phoenix was content to stay in a chicken coop. This made the old man, dressed in scholar’s robes, feel rather helpless.

Chen Ping’an knocked and entered.

The old man surnamed Cui sat cross-legged, opened his eyes, and sized up Chen Ping’an.

Chen Ping’an sat opposite the old man, carrying the Sword Immortal and the sword-nurturing gourd hanging from his waist.

The old man found the sword somewhat irritating. As for the sword-nurturing gourd, it was slightly better. A martial arts practitioner drinking some wine was nothing to be concerned about. “So, relying on these external objects, you were able to leave that defiled place alive?”

Chen Ping’an said, “I wouldn’t say ‘relying on’, but without this sword, I really wouldn’t have survived. At Green Gorge Island in Scripture Lake, I almost got killed by an rogue cultivator in the Upper Five Realms.”

The old man sneered, “If they really wanted to kill you, whether you had this sword or not wouldn’t have mattered.”

Chen Ping’an said, “In a situation where it’s debatable whether to kill or not, without this sword, the probability of being killed would be much higher.”

The old man frowned in displeasure.

Chen Ping’an slowly said, “On the path of martial arts, of course one must pursue purity. But if one deliberately puts oneself in life-or-death situations time and again for the sake of perfect ‘purity’, I don’t think that’s good. Even if one manages to survive an encounter once, twice, or even three times, there will eventually be a hurdle that one can’t overcome. When that happens, one simply dies. I think the purity of practicing martial arts must first be purer than those who cultivate Daoism on the mountains when it comes to cultivating the heart. One must first achieve a state of immaculate mind, and only then can one have the opportunity to strip away the many external objects mixed into one’s strikes. This is the foundation of martial purity. Otherwise, the path of martial arts is already long and arduous, full of difficulties, with dead ends waiting ahead. If one still likes to tell oneself that death is inevitable, how can one go far?”

The old man placed his fists on his knees, leaned forward slightly, and sneered, “What, after wandering outside for a few years, you think your skills have increased, and you’re qualified to spout nonsense at me?”

The moment the old man leaned forward slightly, the interior of the second floor of the bamboo house instantly became filled with a torrent of fist intent, surging towards Chen Ping’an.

Even Shi Rou outside the bamboo house sensed the astonishing aura of an impending flood.

Chen Ping’an remained sitting in place, unmoving as a mountain, in both form and state of mind.

A fierce gale seemed to blow through the room.

Chen Ping’an slid backward continuously, but still maintained a straight back. Even with his back against the wall, he didn’t change his sitting posture in the slightest.

The old man sighed, a hint of pity in his eyes. “Chen Ping’an, after a trip to Scripture Lake, you’ve become so afraid of death? Aren’t you curious why you haven’t been able to naturally break through the Fifth Realm bottleneck? Do you really think it’s because you’re suppressing it? Or is it that you’re afraid to delve deeper into it?”

Chen Ping’an remained silent.

The old man looked at the gaunt young man with his back against the wall. “Afraid of death is afraid of death. You just don’t dare to admit it. Of course, you have all sorts of reasons for being afraid of death, and I won’t laugh at you for it. However, the interesting thing about the world is that whether it’s practicing martial arts or cultivating Daoism, it doesn’t care if your thoughts are reasonable or not. So your reasoning is correct, but unfortunately, you can’t use a reasoning that’s correct for you to persuade your own heart. You want to practice swordsmanship now, and that obsession is growing stronger and stronger. I suspect that in the past few years at Scripture Lake, you often had thoughts that rose and fell inadvertently, fleetingly, without you even realizing it. One is that being a martial artist doesn’t seem strong enough, and the other is that being a Sword Immortal is too carefree. This is human nature. You’ve never seen my true abilities, but you’ve been to the Sword Qi Great Wall. I believe you’ve seen more than one or two Sword Immortals with your own eyes.”

Chen Ping’an hesitated, seemingly wanting to refute.

The old man smiled. “Back then, when I fed you punches, I gave you too many punches, each with measured force, smoothing out your Third Realm martial path. So even though you did suffer a lot of pain and torment, the journey was very… smooth. Of course, this is my skill, not harming your physical essence in the slightest, nor damaging your original heart. But the demeanor of the Sword Immortals you’ve seen won’t care about the state of mind of a small martial artist. Sword intent stretches for hundreds of miles, energy surges into the heavens, opening up a sea of clouds, like a casual slap that creates big holes in your path of the heart. And you’re also a half-baked scholar who likes to reflect on yourself, and likes to look back every now and then to see if you’ve gone astray, right?”