The old ferryman continued to punt his boat along the riverbed, the ferry resembling a swimming fish, heading directly downstream with lightning speed.

In the eyes of ordinary scholars, the water was murky and unclear, but to the old ferryman, it was as clear as day. He even found the scattered, shimmering essence of riverine fortune rather pleasing to behold.

On this waterway leading to the River God’s temple, the occasional wandering lonely spirit would drift by, and upon seeing the old ferryman, would take the initiative to kneel and kowtow.

The river water’s luck was dense, and the River God did not aggressively seize it, instead storing it all within the temple. This significantly reduced the likelihood of those drowned unjustly becoming mindless, malevolent ghosts, a deed of merit. However, the price the Flowing River temple paid for this was a slower accumulation of incense essence. Year after year, it was short a pound here, eight ounces there. The incense essence that should have been used to shape and refine the gold body’s quality was missing a considerable portion. In the eyes of other river deities, this River God was probably out of his mind.

A mountain and river deity who relied on mortal incense for sustenance, and not a cultivator, especially since the Flowing River temple only recognized Bone Beach as its foundation and wasn’t listed in any dynasty’s register of mountains and rivers. Therefore, the attitude of the emperors and vassal lords of the dynasties along the Flowing River’s upper reaches towards the temple built outside their territories was very subtle: neither endorsing nor banning it, not supporting the commoners’ pilgrimage to burn incense, but not obstructing them at the border checkpoints. Thus, the River God Xue Yuansheng remained an unorthodox water god outside the ritual system of a continent, yet he actually pursued ethereal karmic merit. Was it not like trying to draw water with a bamboo basket? What was the point of planting trees here only to have them bloom elsewhere?

The matter of karmic merit was most unpredictable. If one was entered into the divine register, it was equivalent to being officially recorded. As long as the mountain and river fortune of a place was stable, the imperial court’s Ministry of Rites would follow procedures, verify it, and reward accordingly. The many aftereffects would be mitigated and resolved by the dynasty, a guarantee of a stable harvest. But without that identity, it was hard to say. Once a commoner’s wish for good fortune succeeded, who could guarantee that there wouldn’t be a tangled mess of cause and effect afterwards?

The goddess who walked out of the mural was in a bad mood, her expression melancholy.

Involving their respective Great Daos, the old ferryman, as an old neighbor, didn’t want to say much. At this time, words of comfort might be like rubbing salt into a wound.

The eight murals of goddesses and celestial officials in Mural City had existed for a long time, even longer than the Hemp Robe Sect. When the Hemp Robe Sect’s founding fathers crossed continents to reach the Northern Reed Continent, it was very difficult. Choosing a location at the southernmost tip of the continent was a last resort. At the time, they had offended several arrogant sword immortals in the north and couldn’t establish a foothold. There was a consideration of staying away from trouble, and they accidentally discovered these inexplicable ancient murals. Therefore, they regarded Bone Beach as a geomantic treasure land, which was also an important reason. However, the hardships and difficulties involved were not enough for outsiders to understand. The old ferryman had personally watched the Hemp Robe Sect being built up bit by bit. Just dealing with the Yin soldiers and Yin generals of the ancient battlefields who occupied the land had caused no less than twenty earthly immortals of the Hemp Robe Sect to perish. Even jade purity realm cultivators had died in battle. It could be said that if they hadn’t been ostracized and had been able to establish their sect in the central part of the Northern Reed Continent, the current Hemp Robe Sect would very likely be among the top five major sects. This was still under the premise that the Hemp Robe Sect had never had sword immortals and never invited sword immortals to serve as mountain gate offerings.

The old ferryman was actually seeing the goddess’s true form for the first time. In the past, among the eight celestial official goddesses, one of the goddesses, the “Spring Official,” could travel far in dreams, similar to a great cultivator’s spirit projection, and completely disregard many restrictions, using this to briefly communicate with human cultivators. In her early years, this goddess had visited the Flowing River temple, but not long after, the Goddess of Spring, like Long Handle and Decisive Judgment, chose their chosen serving object and left Bone Beach. At the time, both sides secretly agreed that the old ferryman would help them set up one or two symbolic tests. In return, they were willing to help three times in times of crisis at the Flowing River temple in the future. After that, Jeweled Canopy and Spiritual Mushroom also left Mural City one after another. Then, for a full five hundred years, three murals fell into silence. The Flowing River had now used two opportunities to overcome difficulties, so the old ferryman was so concerned, hoping that new opportunities would fall on mortals or cultivators. The old ferryman was happy to see this happen.

Over the past thousand years, the situation had changed. Among the five goddesses in the murals, one had died in battle for her master, and two had chosen to vanish with their masters. Only the so-called “Immortal Staff” goddess of Decisive Judgment, and the Goddess of Spring, who had disappeared for some reason, remained. The former’s chosen poor scholar was now a peak continent cultivator in the immortal realm, and was also one of the few non-sword cultivators in the team that had previously traveled to Upside-Down Mountain.

The goddess riding the ferry at the moment was not accompanied by the colorful deer from the painting.

Probably because of this, the mural hadn’t faded, otherwise the old ferryman would have to be embarrassed with the goddess to the point of wanting to disappear.

After a long wait, she had finally chosen a person to serve her for life and death, but the other person had no insight at all, not only failing the trivial test, but also running away immediately.

If the murals in Mural City were to turn back into simple line drawings again, wouldn’t that cause this celestial official goddess to seem homeless? How was that different from the drowned ghosts wandering in the Flowing River and the lingering Yin spirits wandering in the Ghost Valley of Bone Beach?

As for the true origins of these eight goddesses, the old ferryman, even as the local river god, still knew nothing.

Unsurprisingly, the Hemp Robe Sect cultivators also knew very little. It was very likely that the only three surviving elderly ancestors only knew a fragment of the truth.

The strangest thing was that the Goddess of Spring had had a candid secret meeting with the old ferryman, frankly saying that they themselves had no memories, not knowing how long they had been asleep, until the Hemp Robe Sect cultivators opened up a cave and activated the formation, that they had woken up. The eight murals, seemingly occupying separate areas in Mural City, were actually connected as one, which, according to the cultivators at the time, was a broken secret realm. They had also used the relics inside, such as the landscape buildings, flowers, ancient trees, and books, to deduce and try to trace their origins, but unfortunately, there was always a chasm across the path, and the fog was heavy, making it impossible to crack.

Approaching the River God’s temple, the old ferryman couldn’t help but sigh.

The goddess standing on the other side of the ferry also sighed softly, especially lingering and melancholic, like a celestial melody never heard in the human world.
The old boatman couldn’t help but grumble about the young man. What was he thinking? He seemed quite clever when observing in secret, and he respected the rules. He didn’t seem like a petty person. So why did he start acting foolish when good fortune was upon him? Was it truly because he wasn’t destined for it, and couldn’t grasp what was within reach? But that couldn’t be right. To be favored by a goddess, a being of immense value, and to leave the painting, that itself spoke volumes.

The goddess turned her head and glanced over. “Wasn’t that male cultivator standing by the riverbank one of the three old ancestors of the Pima Sect?”

The old boatman shook his head. “I recognize all three old ancestors on the mountain. Even when they descend, they are not the kind of magnanimous figures who like to play with illusionary arts.”

The goddess pondered for a moment. “Judging by his bearing, I recall one of my sisters took a liking to a person in her early years. He was a young, foreign Golden Core cultivator who almost moved her heart. But his nature was too unfeeling. Being by his side wouldn’t be about hardship or suffering, just… blandness.”

The old boatman was taken aback, and asked about the approximate time.

After receiving the answer, the old boatman felt a headache coming on. He muttered to himself, “Could it be that lecherous Jiang fellow? That’s a rotten apple to the core.”

Unexpectedly, the goddess nodded. “I believe his surname was indeed Jiang. At the time, the young man was quite boastful, saying that one day, even if the fairy sisters didn’t fancy him, whether they were home or not, he would take all eight paintings and enshrine them properly, so he could eat and drink in front of them every day. However, although his words were frivolous, his inner nature was quite extraordinary.”

The old boatman was puzzled. “That guy used to be a philanderer who left his mark everywhere. How could he be considered unfeeling and bland?”

The goddess shook her head. “Our method of judging people goes straight to the heart and soul, which is very different from you cultivators, and even from you mountain and water deities. This is an innate divine ability of our sect. We don’t necessarily think it’s all good. One glance, and all we see are murky lakes of the heart, filthy thoughts, or dens crawling with snakes and scorpions, or alluring creatures with human heads and demonic bodies, all tangled together. Many unsightly scenes, unbearable to behold. That’s why we often deliberately fall into slumber, so our eyes don’t see and our hearts aren’t troubled. That way, when we suddenly awaken one day, we roughly know that an opportunity has arrived, and only then will we open our eyes to look.”

The old boatman praised, “The vast world is truly full of wondrous oddities.”

The deer-riding goddess suddenly turned her head towards Mural City, narrowed her eyes, and her expression turned stern. “That scoundrel dares to trespass into my mansion!”

The old boatman remained expressionless.

He thought to himself, it must be the infamous Jiang Shangzhen.

Over in Mural City, a large area of mountain-made lanterns suddenly went out. The lanterns, which should have been burning brightly and only needed replacing every hundred years, had a problem. This naturally caused panic. If a great cultivator were to fight here with all their might, it could damage the very foundation of the Pima Sect’s mountain and water formation. If Mural City collapsed, the consequences would be unimaginable. Therefore, several direct disciples of the Pima Sect’s Ancestral Hall, responsible for guarding the three murals, flew into the air, looking towards the commotion and chaos, trying to find the culprit. Once someone was identified as a cultivator destroying Mural City, plotting to steal the paintings, they had the right to execute them on the spot, reporting afterwards.

Near a wall with the goddess painting, while the Pima Sect guard was distracted looking into the distance, a wisp of green smoke first clung to the wall, moving like a nimble snake, and then instantly darted into the painting. It was unknown what means it used, but it directly broke through the painting’s own immortal art restrictions and vanished in a flash, like a raindrop falling into a lake. The movement was subtle, but it still made the nearby Pima Sect Earth Immortal furrow his brow. He turned his head and looked, but couldn’t see anything suspicious. Still uneasy, he apologized to the mural goddess and walked to within three feet of the painting. He activated the Pima Sect’s unique divine ability, his eyes turning a light gold color, and his gaze scanned the entire painting, to avoid missing any clues. But after checking back and forth twice, he still couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary.

The ancient painting before him, one of the last three fortunes remaining in Mural City, was an extremely important one in the eight Heavenly Court female official paintings. In the Pima Sect’s secret archives, the goddess depicted in the painting, riding a seven-colored deer, carrying a wooden sword with the inscription “Quick Wind” on one side of the blade, was held in high esteem, ranking second. But its importance even surpassed that of the goddess commonly known as “Fairy Staff,” but actually named “Zhan Kan” by the Pima Sect. That was why the Pima Sect had an Golden Core Earth Immortal, with the potential to reach the upper five realms, stationed here to oversee it.

The middle-aged cultivator couldn’t find an answer, but still dared not let his guard down. After hesitating for a moment, he looked towards the shops near the “Lightning Whip” goddess painting in Mural City, and told the young man there in a sound transmission, to immediately return to the Pima Sect Ancestral Mountain and tell the Ancestral Hall that there was something strange happening near the Deer-Riding Goddess, and that they must invite an old ancestor to personally come and supervise.

Although the young man had previously descended the mountain to help his childhood sweetheart with her business, and was quite clueless, his mental state was extremely stable when it came to important matters. He bid farewell to the girl, and after walking out of the shop, his expression was solemn. He pinched his fingers into a hand seal, and lightly stomped his foot. Immediately, a land deity within the Pima Sect’s territory emerged from the earth, a graceful young woman in her prime. She held her arms high, supporting a sheathless ancient sword with a chilling aura. However, from leaving the Pima Sect’s underground mountain root palace, to appearing with the sword, the beautiful “land lady” respectfully handing over the ancient sword, which must constantly be sharpened underground, cast an illusion spell. Below the Earth Immortal realm, no one could see it.

The young man said a word of thanks, put his fingers together, and gently wiped the sword. The ancient sword trembled and soared into the sky. The young man stepped on the sword, the tip pointing directly towards the top of Mural City, shooting up in almost a straight line. The thick layer of earth, blessed by the mountain and water formation, didn’t hinder the young man’s sword flight at all. Man and sword soared into the sky, breaking through the sea of clouds like a “white jade belt” around the Pima Sect’s Ancestral Mountain, and quickly headed to the Ancestral Hall.

The middle-aged cultivator landed on the ground, stroked his beard and smiled. Although this little junior was not from the same branch in the Ancestral Hall as him, everyone in the sect respected and liked him.

The Pima Sect had many rigid rules. For example, except for a select few, the rest of the cultivators had to start walking up the mountain from the sword-hanging pavilion halfway up the mountain, no matter how close the sky was to falling. This young man, who had secretly been recognized by the semi-immortal weapon since childhood, was one of the exceptions. The middle-aged cultivator couldn’t send a message back to the Ancestral Hall by flying sword, but there were many hidden details, that even the young man himself was unaware of. This was also the mystery of cultivating on the mountain, “to know is to not know.” If someone else pointed it out, and he seemingly knew, the opportunity that might have been within reach would be gone.
Therefore, it was best to have the youth report this matter, allowing him to bear more of the karmic consequences. Success was not guaranteed, but at least it wouldn’t be a bad thing.

Although the Pi Ma Sect had a magnanimous spirit and didn’t mind outsiders taking away the fortune from the eight Goddess Paintings, the youth was the most promising disciple since the sect’s founding to grasp a portion of the Grand Dao opportunity within the Mural City through his own efforts. Back then, when the Pi Ma Sect constructed the Landscape Great Formation, they broke ground, deploying hundreds of golem laborers and over a dozen mountain-moving apes and chasing hounds. They practically turned the Mural City and the dozens of miles beneath it upside down. Even with so many great cultivators whose names were recorded in the Pi Ma Sect’s ancestral records, they failed to find the ancient sword left behind by the sect’s founder. This semi-immortal artifact was said to be inextricably linked to the Deer-Riding Goddess, so the Pi Ma Sect had to contend for the opportunity within this mural. To not seize what Heaven offered was to invite blame.

The youth, upon the sea of clouds, controlled his sword, heading straight for the Ancestral Hall.

Of the three ancestral masters of the Pi Ma Sect, one was in seclusion, and another was stationed in the Ghost Domain Valley, continuing to expand their territory.

The only ancestral master responsible for guarding the mountain stood at the entrance of the Ancestral Hall, smiling as he asked, “Lanxi, why the rush? Did something go wrong in the Mural City?”

The sword-wielding youth repeated the words of his Golden Core senior brother.

The ancestral master frowned, “Is it the Deer-Riding Goddess Painting?”

The youth nodded.

The ancestral master grabbed the youth’s shoulder, using the technique of mountain and river shrinking. In an instant, they arrived at the Mural City. He first sent the youth to the shop and then came alone to the painting, his expression solemn.

The middle-aged Golden Core cultivator then realized the seriousness of the matter, exceeding his imagination.

The ancestral master sneered, “Good heavens, to be able to silently break through the double restrictions of both families and enter the secret realm.”

The middle-aged cultivator’s expression changed slightly.

The old man waved his hand, “Be careful of a feint to draw forces away. You go protect Lanxi. Don’t be too nervous; after all, this is our territory. I have to return to the Ancestral Hall to burn incense and knock on the door according to the rules.”

The middle-aged cultivator nodded and went to the shop.

At the shop.

The young girl quietly asked, “What’s going on?”

The youth smiled, “Made a trip to the Ancestral Hall.”

The middle-aged cultivator entered the shop. The youth asked in confusion, “Senior Brother Yang, why are you here?”

The middle-aged cultivator smiled, “Just looking around.”

The youth before him, though only at the Cave Realm cultivation level, was his junior brother, named Pang Lanxi. The youth’s grandfather was a guest elder of the Pi Ma Sect and the main artist responsible for filling in the copies of the Goddess Paintings in the shop. The exceptionally talented Pang Lanxi was a sword immortal seed, unprecedented in the Pi Ma Sect. He was also the closed-door disciple of one of the Pi Ma Sect’s three ancestral masters, the sect’s founder. Because this Jade Purity old ancestor, renowned for his top-ten killing power south of the Northern Majestic Continent, had vowed in the Ancestral Hall that he would only take one disciple in his lifetime, he took in the young Pang Lanxi as his direct disciple. This should have been a joyous and congratulatory event, but the eccentric old ancestor told the Pi Ma Sect not to publicize it, only saying a phrase that suited his temperament perfectly: “No need to rush, I’ll host a feast for all directions when my disciple enters the Golden Core realm. It won’t take many years anyway.”

The middle-aged cultivator looked at the carefree Pang Lanxi, inwardly smiling bitterly. *Little Junior Brother, this is a critical period for your Grand Dao!*

In a secret realm resembling a celestial palace, a middle-aged man suddenly appeared. He stumbled, dusted his sleeves, and laughed, “Finally, my wish has been fulfilled, to be able to see the peerless beauty of the fairy sisters here.”

He softly called out, “Hello? Is anyone there?”

He strolled slowly, looking around, admiring the scenery of the immortal realm, then suddenly raised his hand to cover his eyes, muttering, “This is the fairies’ boudoir. I mustn’t see what I shouldn’t see.”

North of the Bone Beach, a young female Daoist left her nascent sect headquarters. As the youngest Immortal Sect Master in the history of the Northern Majestic Continent, she personally steered an immortal ferry bestowed by her Heavenly Lord senior brother, speeding south. As an immortal treasure, the Flowing Rainbow Boat was faster than intercontinental ferries, capable of flashing through the clouds a thousand miles apart, akin to a cultivator using earth-shrinking techniques, silently and invisibly.

As for the young swordsman wearing a bamboo hat on the border of the Ghost Domain Valley at the Bone Beach, he purchased a thick book from a shop managed by local stationed cultivators. The book thoroughly explained the precautions for the Ghost Domain Valley, detailing many taboos and dangerous places. He sat to one side, basking in the sun, slowly flipping through the book, not rushing to pay the toll and then enter the Ghost Domain Valley to train. Sharpening the knife does not delay the work of chopping wood.

The winter sun was warm and bright. The young man raised his head to look at the sky; it was cloudless and clear. The weather was truly pleasant.