The woman, esteemed as the Grand Empress Dowager of Great Li, seemed to finally remember the son by her side, Song He, the new Emperor of Great Li. She smiled, “Young Master Chen, this is my son, Song He. This should be the first time you’ve met. I hope you’ll have the opportunity to interact in the future. Young Master Chen is a celestial prodigy, bearing the martial destiny of my Great Li. Our Great Li was founded on martial prowess. Whether it be my uncle or Song He, they will, and should, treat Young Master Chen with utmost respect.”

The young emperor leaned forward slightly, smiling, “Greetings, Master Chen.”

He displayed not a hint of the arrogance befitting the Nine-Five Sovereign.

This voyage aboard the ship was a private visit, an attempt to befriend the so-called reclusive masters of the wilderness. Worldly etiquette could be set aside.

Song He had earned a good reputation among the civil and military officials of Great Li early on, with excellent public opinion. This was not only because the Great Li Empress Dowager had educated him well, but also because he himself had done a commendable job.

Chen Ping An nodded, “If I have the chance, I will definitely visit the capital.”

The woman smiled, “The imperial court plans to elevate Longquan from a prefecture to a state, and Wu Yuan will be promoted to governor accordingly. As for the vacated position of prefect, I wonder if Young Master Chen has any suitable candidates in mind?”

Chen Ping An smiled subtly, “Isn’t the choice to be made between Magistrate Yuan and Supervisor Cao? Magistrate Yuan is diligent and just, governing the prefecture with such order that lost items are returned to their owners. Supervisor Cao is approachable, focusing on the big picture while keeping a close watch on the details of the Dragon Kiln, ensuring no errors. Both are good officials. Whoever is promoted, we, the common folk of Longquan Prefecture, will be happy.”

Emperor Song He glanced at Chen Ping An, his expression unreadable.

Was he truly naive, or feigning ignorance?

The Yuan and Cao families, both pillars of the state, had been feuding in the imperial court for generations, and even on the battlefield. Favoring one would be tantamount to slighting the other. The position of prefect might not be grand, but offending a pillar of the state was no small matter. Even if the heads of the Yuan and Cao families were selfless and upright, accepting the court’s decisions without complaint, what would their respective disciples and followers think? One side would be elated, the other resentful. Would the court be adding fuel to the fire, inviting trouble?

The woman remained composed, smiling, “Perhaps because Young Master Chen is a mountain cultivator, fond of traveling the world’s rivers and mountains, he hasn’t had much contact with the local officials, and lacks personal connections. Therefore, he’s hesitant to say more. However, there is another matter that Young Master Chen, in all reason and sentiment, should have some thoughts on. When Longquan is elevated to a state, the candidates for the three City Gods of state, prefecture, and county are yet to be determined. Back then, the mountain god of Fallen Phoenix Mountain chose the old Supervisor Song Yuzhang without consulting Young Master Chen beforehand. Although it was in accordance with the rules, in truth, the imperial court’s actions were… somewhat lacking in consideration. We should have discussed it with Young Master Chen before making a decision. Therefore, Young Master Chen need not have any reservations regarding the three City Gods this time. I, a mere woman, and my son Song He, along with the imperial court, trust Young Master Chen’s character and judgment. Consider it an invitation for Young Master Chen to help Great Li choose a hidden gem or two from the vast sea.”

The woman continued to persuade, “Young Master Chen is about to travel far again, but Longquan Prefecture is, after all, your hometown. Having one or two trustworthy individuals to take care of Fallen Phoenix Mountain and the surrounding areas would allow Young Master Chen to rest easy while away.”

Chen Ping An shook his head, a look of regret on his face, “I am truly unfamiliar with the mountain and water deities, City Gods, land spirits, and other incense-receiving heroes around the Li Pearl Grotto-Heaven. Every time I pass through, I’m always in a hurry. Otherwise, I would have indulged my selfish desires and asked the imperial court for a City God I’m close to to watch over Longquan Prefecture. I, Chen Ping An, come from humble beginnings, haven’t read a book in my life, and am even less familiar with officialdom. But having wandered the pugilistic world for so long, I still understand the vulgar saying that ‘the local magistrate is better than the distant official.'”

Song He chuckled inwardly. The words were true. The only one you, Chen Ping An, truly know is the Northern Mountain God, Wei Bo. You’re practically as close as brothers.

The woman also wore a look of regret, “The candidates for the three City Gods are being fiercely debated by the Ministry of Rites and are about to be finalized. In fact, the Ministry of Works is already discussing the site selection for the three City God pavilions and temples, both large and small. Young Master Chen has missed this opportunity, which is a shame. After all, these incense deities, who have existed for countless years, once rooted in the mountains and rivers, are not like those government officials who frequently change seats. They will remain for decades, if not centuries.”

Chen Ping An sighed, “I appreciate the imperial court’s kindness. The path of the pugilistic world is long and arduous. I hope there will be similar opportunities in the future.”

The woman slowly rose, a simple movement that exuded an elegant charm, “Then we shall not disturb Young Master Chen’s journey and cultivation any further.”

Chen Ping An also stood up, “I am neither a sword cultivator nor a far-roaming martial artist anymore. On this ferry, I cannot escort you far. Please forgive me.”

The woman nodded, indicating it was not a problem. She turned to Xu Ruo and smiled gently, “Since the ferry hasn’t left the borders of Treasure Bottle Continent yet, I believe my son and I will have a safe journey back. Since Master Xu is acquainted with Young Master Chen, why not stay and catch up?”

Xu Ruo shook his head and smiled, “No need.”

It was concise and straightforward, without even offering a reason.

However, neither the woman nor Emperor Song He seemed to find it offensive, as if “Master Xu” expressing himself in this manner was perfectly natural.

Finally, Chen Ping An saw the three of them off at the ship’s railing. Near the Bone Beach Hemp Robe Sect ferry, a massive six-story ferry was sailing alongside it. Compared to the Hemp Robe Sect ferry, which was already considered a behemoth, it appeared somewhat “slender and graceful.” Between the two ferries, somehow, a painted “corridor bridge” paved with azure mist was erected, spanning over two zhang in width, filled with immortal aura. One could vaguely see celestial maidens dancing gracefully on the corridor pillars, resembling the ancient celestial pathways. The three walked on it as if on flat ground. Every time their soles touched the “bluestone path,” circles of colorful light spread out in ripples.

Chen Ping An didn’t move, gazing intently as the white-robed, high-crowned old cultivator on the opposite ferry retracted the divine corridor bridge, flipping his wrist and holding it in his palm, as small as a seal, before slowly concealing it in his sleeve.

The mother and son’s figures disappeared into the ferry’s stairway.

Xu Ruo turned and stood by the railing. Chen Ping An cupped his fist in farewell, and the other smiled and nodded in return.

Chen Ping An returned to his room, no longer practicing his fist techniques. Instead, he closed his eyes, as if returning to the mountain gate house of Green Gorge Island on Book Brief Lake, becoming an accountant once more.

He began to silently calculate the accounts.

Some things, though seemingly minor, were difficult to investigate. Investigating them would startle the snake in the grass, causing repercussions throughout.
However, regarding some major events, even those involving the top secrets of the Great Li Song Clan, Chen Pingan could ask Cui Dongshan with utter candor.

But after careful consideration, it all boiled down to a single word: wait.

Chen Pingan opened his eyes, his fingers gently tapping the gourd for nurturing swords.

This mother and son, they really didn’t need to make this trip, and even actively showed goodwill.

Perhaps they were pursuing the greatest benefit. The deadly feud of yesteryear, after the shift in circumstances, was not worth mentioning in the woman’s eyes.

To put it simply, killing Chen Pingan would cost ten taels of silver, but winning him over could earn five taels of silver. This in and out was actually a fifteen-tael silver transaction.

Of course, it could also be a smokescreen. That woman was the type who went all out even when fighting a rabbit. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have mobilized that group of assassins back then to kill Chen Pingan, a mere second-realm martial artist.

It was also possible that it was a test, first to determine the depth and reality of Chen Pingan, and of course, his attitude towards the assassination attempt. The Great Li court would then make a decision.

Chen Pingan’s thoughts drifted away.

He thought of many things.

For no reason, he recalled a scene he had greatly envied in his youth: watching from afar as his peers gathered at the Immortal Cemetery, playing and frolicking, pretending to be good guys and bad guys, clearly divided into black and white. There were also those who played house, with the sons of wealthy families acting as husbands and pretty little girls acting as wives, and the rest playing butlers, servants, and maids, all in a lifelike and lively manner.

When he grew up, at first glance, it was full of childish innocence, but at a second glance, it wasn’t so beautiful. It seemed that in their childhood, the children had already learned the knowledge they would use for the rest of their lives.

Chen Pingan took down the gourd for nurturing swords, drank some wine, and walked towards the viewing platform.

The night was deep. The ferry had just passed the mountains of the old Northern Sacred Mountain of Great Li, and the mountain’s steepness was vaguely visible, just like the Great Li’s style of doing things.

The bright moon hung in the sky.

Chen Pingan opened his eyes wide, looking at the mountain and the moon.

The mountain is near, the moon is far, and the moon seems small, so people say the mountain is bigger than the moon. If someone had eyes as big as the sky, they would see the mountain high and the moon even wider.

Inside a magnificent room, paved with the most exquisite rugs from the Rainbow Clothes Country, the woman poured herself a cup of tea. She suddenly frowned slightly; the stool was a bit too high, causing her feet to leave the ground. Fortunately, her greatest skill in this life was adaptation. She lifted her heels even higher, gently tapping the precious rug made by a female cultivator from the Rainbow Clothes Country’s Immortal Mansion with her toes, and asked with a smile, “How was it?”

Song He thought for a moment and said, “He’s impervious to persuasion.”

The woman took a sip of tea, savoring it. It seemed inferior to the spring tea from Changchun Palace. That place, nothing was good. It was colder than a cold palace, filled with women who couldn’t even gossip, boring and dull. Only the tea was good, which kept those years of thatched-hut cultivation on the mountain from being too unbearable. She deliberately took a sip of tea, chewing on a tea leaf in her mouth. In her opinion, the only way to truly taste the sweetness was to have bitterness as the base. After swallowing the finely chewed tea leaves, she slowly said, “Without some ability and temperament, could a lowly cur raised in Mud Bottle Lane, smelling chicken droppings and dog feces, have survived to this day? How old is he? A young man of just twenty-one years has built such a great empire?”

Song He didn’t really care about a mere mountain master of a Fallen Mountain. It was just that his mother insisted on bringing him along, so he had to follow.

As an emperor, what blessings he should enjoy and how much trouble he should endure were things Song He had been clear about since he was a child. Just how many formalities had he gone through in the year since he ascended the throne? Fortunately, Song He was as adept as if he were not a new emperor, which was why some old fogeys in the court who didn’t like him, opened their eyes wide to find fault with him. It was estimated that their old eyes were sore, but they couldn’t find any flaws, so they could only pinch their noses and admit it.

Song He smiled and said, “If I had those opportunities, I wouldn’t be any worse than Chen Pingan.”

The woman asked, “Do you really think so?”

Song He nodded with a smile.

The woman narrowed her eyes, twirling the exquisite plum-green glazed teacup between her fingers. “Think carefully before answering me.”

Song He quickly raised his hands, smiling and saying, “It was just childish defiance, Mother, please don’t be annoyed.”

The woman did not regain her usual doting expression. When mother and son were alone, she never treated Song He as the Great Li Emperor. She said sternly, “Would Qi Jingchun have chosen you?! Can you, Song He, endure hardship?!”

Song He shook his head, “Neither.”

“In some areas, being inferior to others is just being inferior. There’s no one in this world who is better than everyone else in everything, taking all the advantages!”

The woman said angrily, “Since you were born to enjoy blessings, then you should carefully consider how to enjoy them. This is something that countless people envy but can’t attain! Don’t forget that this has never been a simple matter! If you feel that you’ve finally become the Great Li Emperor and dare to be even the slightest bit negligent, I’ll say it right here and now. If you ever act foolishly and lose the dragon throne, and Song Mu takes it and sits on it, Mother will still be the Great Li Empress Dowager. What will you be then?! Others may not know the truth, or if they know, they wouldn’t dare to mention it, but your teacher Cui Chan, and your uncle Song Changjing, will they forget?! When they want to speak, can you and I stop them?”

Song He said guiltily, “It was my mistake, I shouldn’t have been complacent.”

In the past, the woman would have comforted him with kind words, but today was very different. Her son’s docility seemed to make her angrier and angrier.

The woman heavily placed the teacup down, splashing tea everywhere, her face gloomy. “How did I teach you in the beginning? Living deep within the palace, it’s difficult to see the outside world, so I begged His Majesty to request that the National Preceptor personally teach you to read. Not only that, but whenever I had the chance, I would secretly take you out of the palace, walking through the streets of the capital, just to let you see more: how poor families rise, how wealthy families decline, how fools survive, and how smart people die! Each person has their own way of life and their own strengths and weaknesses, just to let you see the complexity and truth of this world!”

“Do you remember why I hit you for the first time in my life? In the market streets, ignorant commoners joked that the Emperor must use a golden carrying pole and eat several large plates of steamed buns in one meal. When you heard it, you found it funny and couldn’t stop laughing. Was it funny?! Do you know that the embroidered tiger who accompanied us at the time looked at you with the same gaze that you looked at those commoners with, exactly the same!”
“A dragon throne, a dragon robe, can you eat them? When the end of the road truly arrives, are they worth more than a few steamed buns? How did the Imperial Advisor teach you? Those who achieve great things in this world must have a solid foundation hidden in the shadows, the more it aligns with worldly affairs and common sense, the more unshakable it becomes! Who did the Imperial Advisor use as an example? It was the seemingly always drowsy old Master Guan! Who was the counter-example? It was the seemingly eternally famous and infinitely glorious ancestors of the Yuan and Cao families! Such a clear and explicit teaching on ‘how bad people can live well,’ and you, Song He, dare to be inattentive?!”

The woman stood up, her fury soaring to the heavens, “Those few tattered books that rulers across the land keep secret, the so-called Imperial Teacher’s books, and those hidden and obscure ‘arts of facing south as a ruler,’ are utter garbage! Are those great principles bad? Are they wrong? No! They are as good as can be, as correct as can be! But do you even understand why, in this Treasure Bottle Continent, with so many emperors and kings, only a few remain today? And how many have become enlightened rulers who govern by doing nothing? It’s because those sitting on the dragon throne, with their limited vision and character, and their paltry ability to control others, simply cannot support the principles in those books! The scholarship and statecraft that Embroidery Tiger taught him, was there a single word, a single grand principle, that didn’t start from the most inconspicuous little thing?”

The woman’s face was ashen, and she pointed at the young Emperor of Great Li, “Today, you compare yourself to a lowly commoner in enduring hardship, feeling that you are stronger than him. Tomorrow, will you compare yourself to your elder brother in merit, also feeling that you are greater? Comparing yourself to the Imperial Advisor in scholarship, to your uncle in martial arts, feeling that you are not that bad after all? Who on earth gave you the courage, Song He, to be so presumptuous? Is it I, who has lived my whole life with my tail between my legs? Is it the late Emperor, who was betrayed by the Lu family of Central Earth and died young? Or is it the Imperial Advisor, who despises you, his disciple, from the bottom of his heart?!”

Song He also stood up, silent.

Without the slightest resentment or complaint, he humbly accepted her teachings.

Even though he was now the man sitting on that dragon throne.

The woman sighed, slumped back into her chair, and looked at her son, who was still unwilling to sit down. Her eyes were filled with sorrow, “He’er, do you find your mother annoying?”

Only then did Song He sit down, and he said softly with a smile, “If I weren’t worried about the criticisms from court and country, I would want Mother to rule from behind the curtain, to enjoy the experience. In that way, Mother could leave more marks in the annals of history.”

The woman laughed in anger, “Nonsense!”

Song He, Song Mu, harmony and amity, a harmonious family prospers.

Common households, imperial families, the thresholds are high and low, worlds apart, but the principles are actually the same.

It was just that the woman had to make a difficult choice back then, sacrificing one and keeping the other. For the sake of the Song Dynasty’s national destiny, she had to send one son, still in swaddling clothes, to that Li Zhu Grotto-Heaven. After a “sickly death,” the name that should have been Song He, “Song Mu,” was crossed out on the genealogical records of the Clan Court, while the second son was not only allowed to stay in the capital but also received the name Song He and the status of the eldest son.

This led to the later Song Jixin of Mud Bottle Lane, and Song Yuzhang’s departure from the capital to serve as the Pottery Kiln Supervisor. After achieving success, he returned to the capital to report to the Ministry of Rites, and then, on his return journey, his head was personally severed by that Lu clan defector at the woman’s side, placed in a box, and sent before the late Emperor. The late Emperor spent a night alone in his imperial study, reading through a file until dawn. Later, he issued an imperial edict, ordering the Ministry of Rites to bestow the title of new Mountain God of Fallen Phoenix Mountain upon Song Yuzhang. Inside the ancestral temple, only the head of the statue was gilded. Eventually, up and down the mountains of Dragon Spring County, there was also the saying of the “Golden-Headed Mountain God.”

The Clan Court, responsible for compiling the imperial genealogy and managing the register of the Great Li Song family’s clan, had several elders die more than twenty years ago, and then, just last year and this year, another group died, all of “old age.” However, back then, it was the late Emperor’s order, and they had no choice but to die. This time, it was these old bones who had grown tired of living who sought death themselves, gambling on a prince without any foundation, wanting to overturn the case and fight for the identity of “eldest son.”

Song He bid farewell and left.

The woman drank tea alone.

Her mood was complex.

Song Jixin, or “Song Mu,” was still her own flesh and blood. How could she have no feelings?

Back then, as she held her eldest son in her arms, gazing at his tender and lovable face, her face was full of tears as she murmured, “Who told you to be the elder brother? Who told you to be born into the Great Li Song family? Who told you to be stuck with such cruel parents as us?”

At the time, the late Emperor was present, but he was not at all angered.

Over the years, after she had ventured to look at the secret files, only to be reprimanded by the late Emperor, she had completely given up. She simply treated that son as if he were already dead.

In the end, the more guilt she felt in her heart, the more afraid she became of facing Song Jixin, afraid of hearing anything about him.

She was even more afraid that one day, she would implicate the “only son” she had raised by her side, and in the end, it would all be in vain.

That Song Yuzhang, who had served as the Pottery Kiln Supervisor for many years, originally had a chance to not die, or at least to die later, and more gloriously. For example, according to the late Emperor’s original plan, Song Yuzhang would first spend a few years in the Ministry of Rites, and then be transferred to a prestigious but powerless department to serve, with a rank that would definitely not be low. Among the Nine Ministers, including the heads of the six ministries, there was no need to think about it. The late Emperor would definitely not give him those positions, but the lesser Nine Ministers were bound to be in his grasp, such as the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, or the Junior Mentor of the Court of State Ceremonies and the Left and Right Spring Palaces, which would be equivalent to being placed under house arrest, enjoying blessings for ten or twenty years, and receiving a beautiful posthumous title with a high ranking after death, which could be considered the Great Li Song family treating its meritorious officials generously.

It should be known that the covered bridge project that Song Yuzhang handled from beginning to end contained the Great Li Song family’s biggest scandal. Once it was leaked and seized upon by the Lake Viewing Academy, it could even affect the Great Li’s grand strategy of annexing the Treasure Bottle Continent.

Therefore, it could be said that the late Emperor had already been benevolent and generous enough to Song Yuzhang.
It was wrong, utterly wrong, of Song Yu-zhang. In the town of Lizhu Grotto, whispers already swirled that Song Jixin was the illegitimate son of the very Superintendent, himself. It was common knowledge, yet Song Yu-zhang remained reckless, unable to conceal his emotions, even displaying paternal affection towards Song Jixin. But Song Yu-zhang’s greatest sin lay in Song Jixin’s own heart. Despite the resentment, deep down, he wished Song Yu-zhang truly was his father. The secret records meticulously documented all of this. Then, after Song Yu-zhang returned to Longquan County as a Ministry of Rites official, he remained unrepentant. How could he not die? Thus, even after Song Yu-zhang’s demise, the late Emperor refused to spare this blunt and loyal official who had so deeply offended him. He allowed her to sever the head and bring it back to the capital, then bestowed upon him the title of the Mountain God of Fallen Mountain, a golden-headed deity, a laughingstock across the entire New Northern Mountain Range.

Even though the late Emperor was gone.

The Empress Dowager still felt a deep-seated fear of that brilliant yet tragically short-lived man.

She loved him, filled with adoration and reverence.

But his death, neither too early nor too late, was just right. In truth, she was quite pleased.

For some women, love was merely a spice for cooking – best to have it, but not essential. They could always find substitutes elsewhere.

The white-robed old Immortal Master, who had earlier collected a celestial gallery bridge into his sleeve, stroked his beard and chuckled, “It seems our Empress Dowager is instructing her son again.”

Xu Ruo smiled without a word.

The Dali ferry turned south, heading home, while the Ferry of Bones continued north.

The old man glanced towards the north, murmuring, “Why choose Dong Shuijing, and not that one?”

Xu Ruo smiled, “Benevolence cannot command armies, righteousness cannot manage wealth.”

The old man scoffed, making no effort to hide his disapproval.

Xu Ruo, hands resting on the hilt and pommel of the sword slung horizontally behind him, appeared relaxed as he gazed at the distant lands and rivers.

Below the ferry, the river source of Northern Treasure Bottle Continent spread wide, like a sweeping broom.

The old man was the representative of the Mo family’s main branch in Treasure Bottle Continent, after they had placed their bets on Dali.

He had always been on good terms with Xu Ruo and that “Old Carpenter,” though the latter had lost the contest for the Mo family’s Grand Mastership, moved away from Middle Earth Divine Continent, and eventually chose the Song clan of Dali.

Alongside their branch of the Mo family was a collateral branch of the Yin Yang School, the Lu clan. They struck a chord, and began to defy all propriety by secretly constructing a replica of the Jade Capital, powerful enough to suppress Immortal Realm cultivators.

Furthermore, that Yin Yang School great cultivator possessed even more insidious methods. He bewitched the late Emperor of Dali into violating Confucian rites, taking the path of cultivation to reach the Middle Five Realms. Once the Emperor broke through, he would retain his intellect while secretly becoming a puppet on strings, his cultivation base utterly destroyed, reduced to a mere mortal scholar. By then, neither the Cliff Academy in Dali’s capital nor the Lake-Viewing Academy in central Treasure Bottle Continent would be able to detect the truth. Such a grand scheme could only be conceived and executed by the deeply rooted Yin Yang School’s Lu clan.

Even the “Old Carpenter,” surnamed Luan, was kept in the dark, despite their close association. He remained completely unaware, a testament to the Lu clan cultivator’s meticulous planning and the late Emperor of Dali’s profound cunning.

It was after these two factions that National Preceptor Cui Chan and Qi Jingchun’s Cliff Academy chose the Dali Song clan. As for what these two disciples of the Literary Saint, who had long turned into bitter enemies yet lived as neighbors, truly sought in their support and teachings, that was another matter entirely.

Then, Ah Liang arrived.

Completely changing the landscape of Dali and the entire Treasure Bottle Continent.

After Ah Liang’s sword strike, the replica Jade Capital, built with half the kingdom’s resources, malfunctioned. For decades, it could no longer be used to deploy its sword formation to kill enemies from thousands of miles away. The Dali Song clan suffered a severe blow, weakening its foundations. However, by a stroke of luck, the Sect Leader Lu Chen, who secretly visited Lizhu Grotto, seemed unwilling to hold Dali accountable. From his arrival in the Great World to his return to the Azure Underworld, he never made a move to destroy Dali’s Jade Capital. Lu Chen’s leniency remains a baffling mystery to many experts. Had Lu Chen taken action, even if it was to vent his anger on the Dali Dynasty, with some excessive measures, the Vice-Leader and the Sacrificial Sages of the Middle Earth Confucian Temple would have been unlikely to intervene.

After that, the Dali iron cavalry accelerated its southward advance.

Building the replica Jade Capital had consumed half of the Dali Song clan’s resources.

In addition, Dali had been using a secret channel for Immortal coins, as well as incurring debts, to have Grand Master Luan and Mo family artisans build a full eight “Mountain” ferries.

It could be said that if Dali’s southward momentum was obstructed, if it was stalled in a particular location for three to five years, even if the Dali iron cavalry’s combat strength was not greatly damaged, the Dali Song clan itself would be unable to sustain the war effort.

Therefore, the Zhu Ying Dynasty’s decision to try and stop the Dali iron cavalry, even at the cost of total destruction, was not a rash act. And the surrounding vassal states’ desperate resistance, using tens or hundreds of thousands of troops to wear down the Dali iron cavalry, was naturally guided and orchestrated by experts behind the scenes. Otherwise, in the face of overwhelming force, where defeat on the battlefield was inevitable, who would be willing to throw their lives away in vain?

This old Mo family cultivator had previously held a very poor opinion of Cui Chan, believing that he was undeserving of his reputation, too superficial. What did it matter that he had played a Colorful Cloud game with the City Lord of White Emperor City? What did it matter that he was a former disciple of the Literary Saint or that he was a Twelfth Realm cultivator? Alone, without any backing or support, he was still not among the top echelon in Middle Earth Divine Continent. After being expelled from the Literary Saint’s lineage and sent packing back to his hometown of Treasure Bottle Continent, what great deeds could he possibly accomplish?

However, after Xu Ruo persuaded the current Grand Master of the Mo family, and they truly came to this remote and uncivilized land of Treasure Bottle Continent, they began to gradually recognize Cui Chan’s true abilities.
In the perilous juncture last year when the Great Li Iron Cavalry was halted at the nation’s borders by the Zhu Ying Dynasty, likely to appease the populace, Cui Chan, who seldom showed his face amidst the surging southward momentum of Great Li, finally gathered some elders and sat down for an earnest discussion. The talk wasn’t about Great Li’s inevitable victory or how to divide the spoils thereafter. Instead, Cui Chan meticulously outlined every step of the Great Li Iron Cavalry’s advance within the next decade. He specified which of the three Iron Cavalry armies would engage whom, where they would clash, the expected casualties on both sides, and the corresponding state of the Great Li treasury, detailing even the minutest “trivialities.”

He then addressed the attitudes of pivotal forces like the Guanhai Academy, Zhenwu Mountain, and the Wind and Snow Temple at different stages, noting their subtle shifts. He also predicted when Qi Zhen of the Divine Grace Sect would enter the fray, finally deigning to meet with Great Li envoys. Furthermore, Cui Chan delineated the resurgence of embers on Great Li’s future map, the repeated tug-of-war with Great Li garrisons, the sparking incidents, and how they should be resolved. He elucidated Great Li’s gains and losses during this period, explaining everything with meticulous detail.

In conclusion, Cui Chan invited everyone to wait and see. Whether they believed him or not, whether they would abandon their efforts midway or increase their bets, they need not rush. They could simply observe from afar whether the Great Li Iron Cavalry would conquer the Zhu Ying Dynasty according to the steps he had laid out.

As events unfolded, Cui Chan’s foresight proved accurate.

It was then that the old cultivator had to concede that Cui Chan was indeed a master strategist.

However, the old cultivator, being an obstinate individual, refused to accept defeat. He sought out Cui Chan to inquire how he accomplished such feats, disbelieving in anything akin to divine prescience or precognition. After all, a continental struggle was not merely a chess player manipulating a few pieces on a board.

Cui Chan then led him to a heavily guarded archive of Great Li, secretly built on the outskirts of the capital.

Nearly five hundred people, half of whom were cultivators, were engaged in a single task: gathering intelligence, extracting information, and coordinating with spies and deathsworn across the continent.

The troop deployments of all dynasties and vassal states on the Treasure Bottle Continent, the distribution of mountain forces, and the personal data of key civil and military officials were all meticulously categorized. The entire interior of a tall mountain had been hollowed out and filled with these archives, accumulated over centuries.

Yet, this wasn’t the most shocking revelation for the old cultivator. What truly struck fear into the heart of the Mohist elder was a seemingly insignificant “triviality.”

As the Great Li strategist, clad in scholarly robes, guided him through the Great Li forbidden zone known as “Book Mountain,” all those who passed by were invariably in a hurry. Upon seeing the strategist, they would only slightly give way before continuing on their paths, without kneeling or bowing, without polite greetings or small talk. Even if the strategist inquired, they would answer concisely before parting ways.

As a Mohist expert and a pinnacle of mechanical arts, the old cultivator felt, upon reflection and as he looked around, that being within this “Book Mountain” was like being inside a colossal and intricate mechanism, filled with the air of precision, accuracy, and harmony.

Compared to the actions of this embroidered tiger, the grand spectacle of cultivators descending mountains to “support the dragon” in history was merely child’s play, where even the slightest achievement was met with joyous celebration.

The infamous disciple of the Quasi-Sage had remained silent for a full century after leaving the Central Continent, a gathering place of stars.

Ironically, as the eight “mountain” ferries slowly ascended and the Great Li Iron Cavalry officially marched south, almost no one cared about what Cui Chan was doing on the Treasure Bottle Continent.

Along the way, Chen Pingan was learning the elegant language of the Northern Plume Continent.

This aspect of the Northern Plume Continent was superior to both the Treasure Bottle Continent and the Tongye Continent. The elegant language was prevalent across the continent, with various official and local dialects existing, but far less complex than in the other two continents. Moreover, it was customary to communicate in the elegant language when traveling, saving Chen Pingan a great deal of trouble. He had experienced difficulties in the Hanging Mountain, where the Treasure Bottle Continent’s elegant language, when spoken by cultivators from other continents, was either incomprehensible or met with contempt.

As the Hemp Robe Sect’s ferry prepared to land, Chen Pingan packed his luggage and went to the railing on the first floor. The army of laborers, dragging the ferry and soaring through the air, were quite mystical, appearing to be not purely yin entities, but something between yin spirits and talisman puppets.

Below lay the vast expanse of the Bone Beach Realm, not the eerie and desolate landscape Chen Pingan had imagined. Instead, several brilliant lights shot straight into the clouds, lingering and swirling, resembling auspicious omens.

The Bone Beach, stretching a thousand miles, was mostly flat plains and beaches, lacking the towering peaks and stacked mountains found in typical ancestral lands of Sects.

A single great river traversed the Bone Beach territory from north to south, unlike the winding courses of ordinary rivers. It flowed in a straight line as if cleaved by a sword, with almost no tributaries branching out, likely concealing hidden mysteries.

The Hemp Robe Sect’s ferry had only one immortal shop, stocked with a plethora of goods. Its prized possessions were two exceptionally high-grade magical artifacts, both damaged remnants of ancient immortals’ swords. Had their blades not been severely damaged, making restoration impossible, they would undoubtedly have been demi-immortal treasures. What made them most noteworthy was that the two swords were supposedly “dao partners,” one named “Rainfall” and the other “Lamp Sound,” rumored to be the swords of a pair of sword immortal dao partners from the Northern Plume Continent.

Therefore, the ferry did not sell them separately. The two magical swords were priced at one hundred Valley Rain Coins.

The deal also had a selling point: Earth Immortal sword cultivators could get an 80% discount, while Upper Fifth Realm Sword Immortals could get a 60% discount.

However, the price was still exorbitant for an Earth Immortal, and even more impractical for an Upper Fifth Realm Sword Immortal.

Chen Pingan could only feast his eyes, as his purse was too shallow. Besides, even if he had the money, Chen Pingan wouldn’t be foolish enough to take the bait.

Nevertheless, Chen Pingan bought a few inexpensive trinkets from the shop with the “False Hatred” plaque. One was a spirit artifact that connected to the Mirror Flower, Water Moon of the Whetstone Mountain, a celadon brush washer similar to Chen Lingjun’s water bowl. The Immortal Book of the Hanging Mountain specifically mentioned the Whetstone Mountain as a dueling ground dedicated to sword cultivators. Any grudges, once agreed to be settled on the Whetstone Mountain, required no life-and-death agreement. Upon arrival, they would simply fight to the death, with almost no exceptions in the past millennium.

There was also an antique inkstone engraved with poetry and prose, and a box of imperial-grade Stone Drum Inks, specially produced by the last emperor of a fallen dynasty, totaling ten ingots.
When Chen Pingan settled the bill with the shop, the proprietor himself appeared, beaming, and said that Great Divinity Wei from Cloud-Veiling Mountain had spoken, saying that all expenses within “Feigned Grievance” Ward would be charged to Cloud-Veiling Mountain’s account.

Chen Pingan didn’t stand on ceremony, and even asked, “What if I buy a few more items? Is that alright?”

The proprietor chuckled and shook his head, saying that Great Divinity Wei had also said that once he, the proprietor, made an appearance, the prior agreement would be nullified.

Chen Pingan still smiled and thanked the proprietor. After a bit of conversation, Chen Pingan learned that while the proprietor ran a shop on the Hemp Robe Sect ferry, he was not a Hemp Robe Sect cultivator. The Hemp Robe Sect’s selection of disciples was extremely meticulous. The names on the Ancestral Hall registry were more precious than gold, and the founding patriarch, after migrating from the Central Continent, had decreed quotas of “thirty-six direct disciples of the inner sect, and one hundred and eight outer disciples.” So, the Bone Beach was mostly inhabited by outsiders like him.

The old proprietor was a talkative fellow, introducing Chen Pingan to the various customs and local conditions of Bone Beach, as well as some mountain taboos.

The two were chatting and laughing by the ship’s railing when Chen Pingan turned his head to look, only to see two sword lights crisscrossing in the distant sky, each clash releasing a large cloud of brilliant light and lightning.

The old proprietor was not surprised, and chuckled, “A common occurrence. The sword cultivators here are just stretching their muscles. Young Master Chen, you can see that they always stay away from the central area of Bone Beach, which should tell you everything. Otherwise, if the two sides really started fighting in earnest, they wouldn’t care about the Hemp Robe Sect of Bone Beach. They could even fly back and forth on top of the Ancestral Hall, which wouldn’t be strange. At worst, they’d pay the Hemp Robe Sect cultivators some compensation. Spitting out three liters of blood or something, what’s that? If their skills are sufficient, they might even start a three-way free-for-all, now that’s what I call comfortable.”

Chen Pingan was speechless.

This Northern Azure Continent is truly a… good place.

(End of Chapter)