The Immortal Ferry of Boneheap Beach was a crucial hub in the southern reaches of the Northern Ju Continent, a place of bustling commerce and a lively atmosphere. In Chen Ping’an’s eyes, it was a veritable hoard of immortal coins with legs, making him yearn for a similar future for his own Oxhorn Mountain Ferry.

The ferryboat slowly approached the shore, and eager passengers, unable to wait a moment longer, surged forward in a chaotic rush. According to established rules, disembarking and embarking at the ferry terminal, regardless of one’s cultivation level or status, should be done on foot. This was the practice in Treasure Bottle洲, Tongye 洲, and the treacherous Upside-down Mountain. But here, it was different. Even those who adhered to the rules jostled for position, while many more casually soared away on their swords in streaks of rainbow light, flew off on magical artifacts, rode immortal birds into the distance, or simply leapt off the boat. It was a noisy, chaotic mess. The stewards on the Hemp Robe Sect ferryboat and those on the ferry terminal shore cursed and swore at these rule-breaking bastards. One Sea Gazing Realm cultivator responsible for security at the ferry terminal lost his temper and directly knocked a Qi Refining cultivator who dared to fly over his head to the ground.

Chen Ping’an found the scene both amusing and exasperating. This was still under the watchful eyes of the Hemp Robe Sect. What chaos must reign in other places?

Chen Ping’an was in no hurry to disembark. Besides, the old innkeeper was still talking about several must-see places in Boneheap Beach. Since the man was so kindly sharing his knowledge of local attractions, Chen Ping’an couldn’t very well cut him off mid-sentence. So he patiently continued to listen to the old innkeeper’s explanations. While Chen Ping’an was curious about the scenes unfolding outside, he had understood from a young age that when someone was speaking earnestly, it was impolite and ill-mannered to be constantly looking around. Thus, Chen Ping’an only glanced at the commotion a few times before turning his attention back to the innkeeper.

Having run a ferry shop for two or three centuries, the old innkeeper had developed a keen eye for people. He quickly wrapped up the previous topic and explained with a smile, “Our Northern Ju Continent may seem chaotic, but once you’ve been here for a while, you’ll find it’s actually quite refreshing. It’s certainly easy to make enemies for no reason, but you’ll also find plenty of instances where strangers offer assistance and even risk their lives for you. I believe you’ll come to understand this in time, young master Chen.”

As the old innkeeper spoke, his weathered face, marked by years of hardship, was filled with unconcealed pride.

Chen Ping’an was no stranger to this sentiment, and his heart clenched with a touch of sadness.

There had been others who felt the same way, who took pride in being from the Northern Ju Continent, even if they were only lower-realm Qi Refining cultivators, mere maids working at the Strike Altar Mountain Ferry.

The old innkeeper hesitated for a moment, recalling his private meeting with Wei Bo, the Northern Mountain Deity of Great Li, and said softly, “Young master Chen, would you permit me to say something that might not be to your liking?”

Chen Ping’an smiled and replied, “Please, innkeeper Huang, speak freely.”

The old innkeeper slowly said, “The Northern Ju Continent is rather xenophobic. We like to squabble amongst ourselves, but when it comes to outsiders, we band together and dislike certain types of foreign visitors in particular. One type is Confucian scholars traveling here, whom we find overly sanctimonious and disagreeable. Another type is young masters from wealthy clans of other continents, who are all arrogant and think too highly of themselves. The last type is foreign sword cultivators, whom we see as reckless and ignorant, daring to come to our Northern Ju Continent to hone their swords.”

The old man leaned on the railing, sighed, and added, “Of the three, the second type is the most disliked. Throughout history, countless young people who enjoyed power and influence in their homelands have acted carelessly and spoken without restraint, relying on the prestige of their clan elders or their masters. But almost none of them have fared well. They usually flee the Northern Ju Continent with their tails between their legs, and that’s considered a good outcome. Many have had their cultivation paths severed or have even died here. This includes the Yellow Purple noble from the Dragon Tiger Mountain Celestial Master’s Office, direct disciples from various philosophical schools, closed-door disciples of Ascended Realm ancestors who hold sway in the Flowing Sunset Continent, and even the younger brother of that Wealth God from the Snowy White Continent. He was beaten to death right here back then. There are countless old grudges like these. Many shocking and scandalous incidents have occurred, and the cultivators from other continents, who lost their relatives and disciples, still haven’t even identified their enemies to this day.”

Chen Ping’an nodded and said, “Innkeeper Huang, I will keep your warnings in mind.”

The old innkeeper smiled again, clasped his fist in salute, and said loudly, “These few taboos are like mere hemp ropes from the market, unable to restrain a true dragon among men. The Northern Ju Continent never rejects true heroes. So, I will take this opportunity to wish young master Chen success in making a name for himself in the Northern Ju Continent!”

Chen Ping’an returned the salute and said, “Then I’ll take you up on your auspicious words, innkeeper Huang!”

Chen Ping’an put on his bamboo hat, slung his sword across his back, and left the Hemp Robe Sect ferryboat.

According to innkeeper Huang, there were three places in Boneheap Beach that one absolutely had to visit, or else the trip to Boneheap Beach would be in vain.

One was the Shaking River Temple, a temple of modest rank but enormous size. As a River God, the enshrined golden statue and the temple’s grandeur surpassed those of most River Gods along the vast rivers of the Northern Ju Continent.

Another was the massive city that stretched from the foot of Hemp Robe Sect’s mountain entrance all the way into the depths of the earth, known as Mural City. Beneath the city were eight high walls, each adorned with lifelike murals of eight ancient beauties, painted in such exquisite detail that every strand of hair was visible. Rumor had it that there was a great fortune to be found, “regardless of cultivation level, only fate matters,” waiting for those who were destined to find it. The eight fairies were said to be the remaining spiritual souls of female officials from a palace in the ancient Heavenly Court. If one of them took a liking to a person who admired her mural, she would step out of the painting and serve that person for life. Their cultivation levels varied. Currently, only three of the eight immortal female officials remained. The other five murals had lost their spiritual energy. The highest-ranking one was said to be a Jade Purity Realm cultivator from the upper five realms, while the lowest-ranking one was also a Golden Core Earth Immortal. Moreover, the murals were said to contain magical treasures, which they would bring with them when they left the paintings. The Hemp Robe Sect had invited experts from all over to try to obtain the magical treasures depicted in the murals using the immortal technique of rubbing, but the murals were filled with profound mysteries, and they were never successful.

Aside from the opportunity presented by the three remaining murals, the city was also filled with items and Yin spirits that ghost cultivators throughout the world craved. Even ordinary immortal residences were willing to come here and bid for well-trained heroic spirit puppets, which could serve as alternative door gods to protect their mountains or as defensive weapons willing to sacrifice themselves for their masters, allowing them to travel the world together. Furthermore, Mural City was filled with wandering cultivators and rogue cultivators who traded here, and treasures were often hidden among them. A young sword immortal who had already gone to the Sword Qi Great Wall had made his fortune by picking up a half-immortal artifact from a rogue cultivator.

Finally, there was the “Haunted Gulch,” which was the most attractive to sword cultivators and pure martial artists in Boneheap Beach. The Hemp Robe Sect intentionally drove and gathered difficult-to-refine fierce ghosts in one place. After paying a toll, outsiders were responsible for their own safety.
Chen Pingan intended to first visit the nearest Mural City.

After Chen Pingan was far from the ferry.

An old cultivator from the Pima Sect, responsible for the intercontinental ferry, concealed all his aura, not a single drop of spiritual Qi leaking from his Qi Palace. He was a well-known Nascent Soul cultivator in the Bone Beach, of extremely high seniority in the Pima Sect’s ancestral hall, but he usually disliked showing his face and loathed dealing with favors. The old cultivator appeared beside Shopkeeper Huang at this moment, and chuckled, “For someone who runs a business, that talk of yours was not just unpleasant, it was downright disgusting.”

A young man who could make the Northern Mountain Deity of Dali show his face, who alone occupied 30% of the mountain peaks of the Lizhu Cave Heaven, would definitely be related to the three types of people the shopkeeper mentioned, at the very least one of them. If he was a little hot-tempered, he might take kindness as a slap in the face, thinking the shopkeeper was giving him a dismount.

The old shopkeeper stroked his beard and smiled. Although his realm was far inferior to that of his Nascent Soul old friend, their interactions were usually very casual. “If he were a young man who cared about face and was impatient, he wouldn’t have been so reclusive on the ferry. Having heard of Yuebi Mural City, he would have already bid farewell and disembarked, why would he be willing to listen to an old geezer like me rambling on for so long? In that case, my words would have been unnecessary.”

The old Nascent Soul cultivator casually laughed, “It’s hard to know a person’s heart by looking at their face.”

The old shopkeeper burst into laughter, “It’s just business, earning a bit of goodwill is earning a profit. That’s why I say, old Su, you’re not cut out for business. Pima Sect entrusting this ferry to you is a waste of a gold mine. So many connections that could have been cultivated are running around right in front of you, and you just don’t grab them.”

“Is being worldly-wise and playing all sides really a good thing for cultivators?”

The old Nascent Soul cultivator sneered, “To bring in a Land Immortal with a chance to reach the Fifth Realm to idle away their time, wouldn’t that be an even bigger waste?”

The old shopkeeper pretended not to understand the underlying meaning, resting his elbows on the railing, gazing at the scenery of his homeland. The intercontinental ferry business never lacked opportunities to enjoy the myriad sights of mountains and rivers, but after seeing so much, he still felt that his own land was the best. At this moment, hearing the words of a Nascent Soul Grand Cultivator, the old shopkeeper said with a chuckle, “Don’t treat me like a basket, I don’t collect complaints here.”

The old Nascent Soul cultivator didn’t mind. Recalling something, he frowned and asked, “What exactly is going on with this Jade Tablet Sect? Why did they move their lower sect to Treasure Bottle Continent? Logically speaking, after the death of Du Mao of the Tongye Sect, they could barely maintain themselves from collapsing. As long as Xun Yuan gently moved his lower sect to the north of the Tongye Sect, seizing the opportunity to strike when they were weak, the Tongye Sect would probably be completely finished in less than three centuries. Why didn’t Xun Yuan do such an easy thing? Even if the lower sect’s location on Treasure Bottle Continent has great potential, can it compare to completely swallowing most of the Tongye Sect? It is said that old Xun was a playboy when he was young, could it be that his brain was damaged by some woman’s legs?”

Shopkeeper Huang of the Xuhan Workshop shook his head and said, “Anyone in the Jade Tablet Sect can be a fool, but Xun Yuan will definitely not be. Even if I’ve never dealt with him, just seeing that this old senior can tame Jiang Shangzhen is enough to show that he is not simple. What is Jiang Shangzhen’s temper like? Back then, with just Golden Core cultivation, he traveled alone through our Northern Ju Continent, and how many mountain peaks and fairies did he harm? In the end, he ate them clean and successfully ran away. I have no regrets in my life, except for the melancholy death of my little martial aunt, which I still can’t let go of! My little martial aunt had the grace to protect and guide me back then, if not for her care, I would have been three feet of grass on my grave long ago. That damn Jiang Shangzhen, my little martial aunt was such a good woman, alas. Damn it, whenever I mention this guy, I am both filled with anger and have to admire him.”

The old shopkeeper’s speech was usually quite refined, unlike the cultivators of Northern Ju Continent. But when he mentioned Jiang Shangzhen, he was somewhat gnashing his teeth.

The old Nascent Soul cultivator gloated, “My basket is full.”

The old shopkeeper spat out a mouthful of saliva, as if wanting to spit out all his accumulated anger.

He asked curiously, “Judging by the situation, the Dali Song family seems to intend to elevate the Ox Horn Mountain ferry crossing, without any intention of expanding the Changchun Palace ferry crossing. Then which local snake will old Su need to deal with? A Dali military general, or a consecrated cultivator?”

The old Nascent Soul cultivator shook his head, “Dali is most wary of outsiders spying and gathering intelligence. Our ancestral hall has specifically instructed us not to use many of the well-worn methods in the Northern Mountain region of Dali, to avoid offending them. Dali is not what it used to be, it has the confidence to block the southward passage of the Bone Beach ferry. So I am currently not clear on the other party’s choice of personnel, but it’s all the same anyway, I have no interest in messing with these things, as long as both sides can maintain face.”

The old Nascent Soul cultivator tutted, “It’s only been a few years, when the first immortal ferry crossing in Dali that could accommodate intercontinental ferries was officially put into operation, the stationed cultivators and military generals were all first-class elites in Dali. Which one wasn’t a hot and powerful figure, but when they saw us, they all greeted us with smiles, their waists never straightened from beginning to end. You’ve seen it too, look at it now, a Northern Mountain Deity, Wei Bo, right? How is he? Did he bow? No, he didn’t. The wheel of fortune turns, soon it will be our turn to ask for help.”

The old Nascent Soul cultivator’s heartstrings suddenly tightened, and he gave the shopkeeper a look. The latter was as if facing a formidable enemy, but the old cultivator shook his head, signaling not to be too nervous.

As long as it’s within the Bone Beach territory, there won’t be any major problems. Is the Pima Sect’s Mountain Protecting Formation just for show?

The two turned their heads together and looked. A “guest” boarding the ship against the current, middle-aged in appearance, wearing a purple-gold crown and a white jade belt, was very suave. This person walked slowly, looking around, seeming somewhat regretful. He finally stopped not far behind the two chatting men, smilingly looking at the old shopkeeper, and asked, “What’s your little martial aunt’s name? Maybe I know her.”

Everything else can be discussed, but when it comes to personal privacy, especially his little martial aunt, the old shopkeeper didn’t want to talk, his face grim. “Who do you think you are? Where did you crawl out from, go back where you came from!”

The man spoke fluent and polished Northern Ju Continent dialect, nodding, “I don’t change my name or my surname, I am Zhou Fei of the Spring Tide Palace.”

The old shopkeeper laughed in anger, “If you’re not that Jiang Shangzhen, then get the hell out of here!”

The middle-aged cultivator thought for a moment and smiled, “Okay, then I’ll get out of here.”

He really turned around and went straight off the boat.

The old shopkeeper looked at the Nascent Soul cultivator beside him, his face solemn, and asked doubtfully, “Could he be a Nascent Soul big shot like old Su?”
The wizened Nascent Soul cultivator extended a finger, pointing skyward.

The seasoned shopkeeper, displaying remarkable composure, at least devoid of panicked fluster, stroked his chin. “How about I seek refuge in your ancestral hall for a month or two? If a real brawl erupts, I’ll foot the bill for any damage to the Bima Sect’s sacred grounds, though perhaps an eight-fold discount, given our long-standing acquaintance?”

The old cultivator patted his shoulder. “That adversary appears to be no pushover. I suggest you seek your own fortune. The fellow hasn’t gone far; perhaps you could extend an olive branch, offer an apology? You’re a merchant, after all. If you dare say I’m not cut out for something, what’s a little dignity between friends?”

The shopkeeper spat, “If that scoundrel truly possesses the mettle, let him strike me down before the venerable Su!”

While the Nascent Soul elder outwardly proclaimed his disinterest in meddling, in that fleeting instant, a radiant halo enveloped the esteemed Bima Sect adept as he drew two fingers together, as if attempting to seize something.

Yet, he was a hair too late.

A verdant willow leaf, shimmering with vitality, hovered mere inches from the shopkeeper’s heart.

A voice echoed from the ship’s railing, “You’ve already exhausted any goodwill you might have possessed. Continue your prattle, and you’ll soon experience a chilling demise.”

The willow leaf vanished in a blink.

After a moment, the old cultivator declared, “He’s departed, far away.”

The shopkeeper’s gaze was laden with complexity. After a prolonged silence, he inquired, “If I were to disseminate this news, how many immortal coins might I earn?”

The Nascent Soul cultivator chuckled. “I advise against such rash actions. You might earn the coins, but you wouldn’t live to spend them.”

The shopkeeper wrestled with his impulse, finally slamming a palm heavily upon the railing, resisting the urge to bellow, “That dog-faced Jiang Shangzhen is back in the Northern Reed Continent, preying on innocent maidens!”

At the entrance to the Mural City at the foot of the Bima Sect mountain, throngs of people milled about. Chen Ping An spent the better part of an incense stick’s burning time locating a relatively secluded spot, removed his bamboo hat, and settled for a meager lunch from a roadside stall. As he was about to settle the bill, he noticed a familiar face, who had materialized from thin air, already paying the tab.

Chen Ping An retrieved his hat, inquiring, “Did you deliberately lay in wait for me?”

The man grinned. “Certain matters necessitate a special trip, a thorough explanation, lest a seed of resentment take root and sour our camaraderie.”

Chen Ping An paused, taken aback.

Neither in the Lotus Root Paradise nor the Azure Tiger Palace of the Tongye Continent would this individual display such cordial, diligent superficiality.

Jiang Shangzhen chuckled heartily. “My apologies, my apologies. I resided in the Northern Reed Continent for a time. A return to familiar grounds, a submission to local customs, proved irresistible. I find myself instinctively drawn to brotherly camaraderie.”

They walked together towards the entrance of Mural City. Jiang Shangzhen communicated with Chen Ping An through ripples in their shared mindscape.

Reaching the entrance, Jiang Shangzhen finished his explanation, then took his leave, claiming that the revitalizing of Shujian Lake required his immediate return.

After separating from Chen Ping An, Jiang Shangzhen sought out the old shopkeeper on the Bima Sect ferry, engaging in a heartfelt “conversation,” appealing to his sensibilities and employing reason. Assured of no lingering issues, Jiang Shangzhen boarded his personal treasure vessel, bound for the Treasure Bottle Continent.

Chen Ping An followed a barely perceptible ten-mile slope, descending into the subterranean Mural City. Along the road, immortal lanterns, crafted through esoteric means, hung suspended, illuminating the surroundings with a brightness akin to midday, yet with a soft, natural glow, like the gentle sunlight of winter.

Chen Ping An silently pondered Jiang Shangzhen’s phrasing.

He side-stepped two paces, evading a woman carrying a porcelain vase, moving with hurried steps. Chen Ping An, utterly unfazed, continued onward.

Unexpectedly, the woman behind him collapsed to the ground, wailing uncontrollably, surrounded by shattered porcelain.

Chen Ping An subtly leaned backward, instantly retreating to the woman’s side. He delivered a sharp slap, momentarily stunning her, followed by another, stinging blow.

The woman, who should have seized his leg and commenced a practiced display of unrestrained weeping, hesitated, glancing timidly at the four or five companions flanking the road. It seemed unjust to simply accept the two slaps without recompense. Surely, the group could pressure him to pay at least a couple of Snowflake Coins, no? Besides, the vase, which she had claimed to be an “authentic flowing sunset vase worth three Minor Heat Coins,” had cost her two taels of silver.

Alas, the woman only received another kick from a burly man, which rattled her brain. Dropping the pretense, she spat out, “You’ll be paying back those three taels of silver later!”

The woman lamented that the initial investment was only two taels.

It would have been better to remain silent, but now, upon opening her mouth, she received another kick to the face. The man sneered, “Our brothers’ travel expenses aren’t worth a single tael of silver?”

As the group departed, they exchanged whispered remarks. One of them, who had previously ordered wontons at the stall, had identified the young rogue wearing a bamboo hat as an easy mark.

On the road, the woman, disregarding the blood trickling from her lips, hastily gathered the shards of porcelain with a large cotton cloth, fearing the potential repercussions of obstructing the path of a true immortal, a matter far beyond mere kicks and slaps. She scurried away in disarray.

Leaving the sloping entrance of Mural City, he entered an alleyway, adorned with faded door gods, couplets, and a Spring character at the highest point.

Rubbing his cheeks, straightening his garments, and forcing a smile, he pushed open the door and entered. Two children were playing in the courtyard within.

The woman closed the courtyard gate and went to the kitchen to light the stove, glancing at the rice jar that was almost empty, and sighed softly.

After she prepared a meager meal.

Suddenly, a child ran excitedly, with a smaller one following behind, into the kitchen, holding up two white coins, their eyes wide with wonder, asking, “Mother, Mother, there are two coins at the door, look, look, did the door god spit them out?”

The woman froze in place.

Where did the two Snowflake Coins come from?

Wealthy individuals had no interest in teasing her family of three, and she possessed no allure. Her two children were equally unremarkable. What could be the reason?

A young man wearing a bamboo hat emerged from the alleyway, muttering to himself, “Just this once. In the future, these stories of others need not be known.”

He walked slowly and looked back. He saw two young children, sprinting as fast as they could, shouting and laughing about getting candied haws.
The swordsman in azure robes chuckled along, adjusting his bamboo hat. For years, his gaze had been shrouded in a somber stillness, rarely warmed by such a feeling. “Then… perhaps we shall know each other again, in the future?”

For some reason, having resolved himself to indulge in yet another instance of “fretting over pointless matters,” the young, foreign swordsman striding forward suddenly felt that within his heart, there was no longer any muddy stagnation or oppressive gloom. Instead, he felt the vastness of the heavens and the earth, and realized that *this* version of himself could truly journey anywhere.

(End of Chapter)