Clad in a simple azure robe, he journeyed upstream along the great river that flowed to the sea. He didn’t deliberately follow the riverbank, listening to the water’s murmur and gazing upon its surface. After all, he needed to carefully observe the local customs and traditions, the various mountains, and the myriad deities of the rivers and peaks. Therefore, he often detoured, and his pace wasn’t particularly swift.

Whenever he resolved to undertake something, he was always like this, expending both effort and energy without complaint. Those around him, however, could feel secure and at ease. If they were young, they might even be oblivious to their good fortune.

Perhaps due to his upbringing in the lower echelons of society, Chen Ping An possessed remarkable patience and resilience.

During his travels, Chen Ping An encountered an intriguing event related to the mountains and rivers, prompting deep contemplation.

Once, Chen Ping An spent the night at an inn near the City God Temple in a prefecture city of the Kingdom of Fúqú. At the hour of midnight, he heard a series of gongs and drums, audible only to cultivators and ghosts. The hazy veil of the underworld abruptly parted, and under the guidance of various ghost constables and clerks, the specters near the prefecture city entered the city in an orderly fashion. This was the bi-monthly City God’s night court, known as the Night Trial, where the City God would judge the merits and demerits of the underworld beings within his jurisdiction.

Chen Ping An quietly left the inn and arrived outside the City God Temple. The two Night and Day Guardians, serving as gatekeepers to prevent disturbances from the ghosts, immediately bowed in respect upon seeing him, addressing him not as an immortal master, but as “Master,” their expressions extremely reverent.

Chen Ping An returned the greeting with cupped fists and inquired if he could observe the City God’s night trial.

One of the Day Guardians immediately turned to report, and after obtaining the joint permission of the City God, the Registrar, and the Yin-Yang Director, he invited the traveling cultivator inside.

In the main hall, the City God sat high behind a large desk, with the Civil and Military Judges and the heads of the City God Temple’s various departments arranged in order, proceeding methodically to judge and sentence the numerous ghosts and underworld beings. If anyone disagreed with their verdict, and they weren’t those notorious villains with clear-cut crimes, they were allowed to appeal to the Mountain Lord of the nearby Great Peak or the River God. The Mountain Lord and River God would then dispatch underworld officials to review the case.

Chen Ping An didn’t sit on the chair that the City God had specially ordered to be brought out. Instead, he placed the chair behind a vermilion-lacquered pillar and sat there, keeping his eyes closed and resting his mind.

When a certain underworld being loudly protested, declaring their innocence and refusing to accept the verdict, Chen Ping An finally opened his eyes and listened intently to the City God’s rebuttal.

It turned out that the underworld being, in life, was a Confucian scholar without any official title. He had inadvertently discovered a large number of bones outside the prefecture city and had carefully exhumed and buried them properly. The underworld being felt that this was a great deed and questioned why the City God Temple’s officials had turned a blind eye. He argued that it should offset his sins, and that this injustice was simply unacceptable. He would appeal to the River God, and if the River God ignored him, protecting his own, he would risk losing his chance at reincarnation and bang the grievance drum to appeal to the Mountain Lord of the Middle Peak of the Kingdom of Fúqú, demanding that the Mountain Lord uphold justice for him and severely punish the City God for dereliction of duty.

The City God rebuked him, “The City Gods of the world examine the actions of the living. In your life, any act done with good intentions, though good, is not rewarded; any act done without evil intentions, though evil, is not punished! Even if you go to the River God and the Mountain Lord and break the grievance drum, the judgment will still follow tonight’s verdict, and there will be no possibility of alteration!”

The underworld being slumped to the ground in despair.

As dawn approached.

The City God’s night trial came to a close.

Only then did Chen Ping An rise, walk around the pillar, stand below the hall, thank the City God, whose official robe and patch were only black and white, and then bid farewell.

The City God personally escorted him to the entrance of the City God Temple.

At the entrance, the City God hesitated and stopped, asking, “Master, is it you who secretly carved out a path down the mountain for the laborers who were entering the deep mountains within Qūjiāng Prefecture to extract imperial timber?”

Chen Ping An nodded. “Indeed, I did. I found the road to be rugged and filled with miasma, and I felt a little compassion.”

The City God sighed. “Two of them were supposed to die on the way to deliver the timber. One was to be crushed to death by the timber, and the other was to fall off a cliff and die. So, Master, by doing this, you have saved two lives. But does Master know whether this action has accumulated more merit or incurred more karma?”

Chen Ping An smiled. “Since the City God has asked, I presume the latter is the case.”

The City God looked at the cultivator. After a moment, he smiled and said, “I understand a little why Master is Master.”

Deities observe humanity, looking not only at actions but also at the heart.

The City God sighed, “People’s actions are like the accumulation of water into a river. River water can irrigate fields and benefit the people, but it can also accidentally flood and cause disaster. Perhaps a single breach can drown countless lives. In an instant, merit and demerit can shift, leaving people caught off guard. Since Master is cultivating on the mountain, you must pay attention. Of course, I am a humble deity with limited insight. I hope that Master will not let my words disturb your state of mind, or my sins will be immense.”

Chen Ping An thanked him again.

Chen Ping An returned to the inn, lit the lamp on the table, and transcribed that single-page Buddhist scripture to calm his mind.

After finishing writing, he put away the paper, brush, and the scripture.

The sky began to brighten slightly.

Chen Ping An extinguished the lamp and stood by the window.

After careful examination, one would find that the great Dao rules of the mountain and river deities differed greatly from the rules established by Confucianism and didn’t absolutely conform to the worldly definitions of good and evil.

Gradually ascending the mountain and becoming more and more like a cultivator was an unavoidable path.

It was like how everyone grows up.

Chen Ping An was actually in a good mood.

He had traveled through so many mountains and rivers, accumulating so many large and small items, his possessions overflowing.

He had a great anticipation for the future of the Fallen Phoenix Mountain.

A single flower blooming alone doesn’t signify spring; a garden full of blossoms was the beautiful scene that Chen Ping An most hoped to see.

Chen Ping An left the prefecture city and continued to travel through the territory of the Kingdom of Fúqú.

Without the jade hairpin and the bamboo hat, he carried only a bamboo box on his back, a green robe and a staff, traveling alone.

One day, at a riverside shrine, Chen Ping An entered the temple to offer incense. In the back hall of the shrine, he saw an ancient cypress tree that was thousands of years old, requiring seven or eight strong men to encircle it, covering half of the square. Beside the tree stood a stone tablet, with content written by a literary giant of the Kingdom of Fúqú, commissioned by the local government for a large sum of money and carved by a renowned craftsman. Although it was a new stele, it possessed a rich ancient charm. After reading the inscription, he learned…

This ancient cypress had endured many wars and upheavals, yet it still stood tall through the ages.
Chen Ping’an, finding the inscription’s words appealing, unslung his green bamboo book chest, took out paper, brush, ink, and inkstone, using the chest as a desk, and meticulously copied the inscription word by word.

The inscription was extensive, and Chen Ping’an’s transcription was painstaking. Unbeknownst to him, night had already fallen.

The temple had a curfew, but the old caretaker not only didn’t chase him away, but instead, together with the temple’s young acolyte, brought two small stools and placed them on either side of the ancient stele. They lit lamps, helping to illuminate the ancient stele in the temple. The lamplight was covered by plain gauze, simple yet exquisite, to prevent the wind from extinguishing the flames.

Seeing this, Chen Ping’an quickly stopped writing, stood up, clasped his hands in gratitude.

The old caretaker smiled and waved, indicating that the guest should continue copying the inscription, adding that the temple had rooms available for pilgrims to stay overnight.

The old man instructed the acolyte, who then squatted to one side, dozing off with the keys in hand.

The acolyte was bored, so he watched the man behind him copying the inscription. The calligraphy, it was neither good nor bad, just earnestly copied and neatly written. He couldn’t see anything particularly good about it. He had visited other temples, which were much grander than his own, filled with inscriptions from scholars. Those were truly elegant and unrestrained, especially one scholar who, drunk with wine, had written a wall of cursive script, truly captivating. Although it was cursive script on the wall, it was praised by the literary circles of Fuqu Kingdom as a “Old Dragon Spreading Rain” masterpiece.

The young scholar in the green robe before him, his calligraphy was nothing special, very ordinary.

After Chen Ping’an finished copying the inscription, he packed up his bamboo chest, slung it back on, and went to the guest room. As for how to express his gratitude, after thinking about it, he could only donate more incense money when he left the next day.

The acolyte yawned incessantly, feeling like a sleep bug was crawling into his ear, but he didn’t complain about the guest being too slow. The temple had many stone carvings and inscriptions, so scholars often came to copy them. The acolyte was young, but experienced. The old caretaker had a strange temper, always treating scholars with respect and courtesy. He heard from his fellow acolytes that in the caretaker’s lifetime, he had received countless scholars traveling to the capital for examinations or sightseeing. Unfortunately, the temple’s feng shui was mediocre. Over the years, none of the scholars had achieved high office and brought fame to the temple. Other temples, which one hadn’t produced one or two scholar-officials who promoted the temple after their success?

Chen Ping’an walked into the corridor, stopped, and looked back.

The leaves of the thousand-year-old cypress rustled.

Chen Ping’an smiled and murmured, “A clear breeze and bright moon stir the branches, like a sword immortal’s treasured sword gleaming.”

The acolyte was stunned for a moment. “A fine poem indeed! Which book did the young master find it in?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “I’ve forgotten the source.”

The acolyte regretted, “If it had been the young master’s own inspiration, that would have been wonderful! I’ll ask the caretaker to find someone who writes well to do a commission, inscribe it on the wall, to increase the incense of our temple.”

Chen Ping’an looked at the ancient cypress and shook his head.

The acolyte thought that this foreign scholar traveling with his books meant that the poem was not his own inspiration, so he said softly, “Young master, let’s go, I’ll take you to the guest room to rest early. The guest room isn’t big, but it’s clean. Don’t worry, I take care of it, I guarantee there isn’t a single ant or insect.”

Saying this, the acolyte whispered, “If you accidentally come across one, young master, please don’t complain to the caretaker.”

Chen Ping’an smiled and nodded, saying “Mm,” and followed the acolyte to the guest room.

Near the ancient cypress, the branches and leaves rustled.

The ancient tree spirit, about to transform into human form, almost shed tears of frustration, wishing it could hold down the acolyte’s blockhead and knock him awake with a series of head flicks.

You foolish child, how can you be so clueless? Do you know how great a fortune the temple has missed?

If the sword immortal were to inscribe that poem on the temple wall, it might ascend to the heavens in one step! As for the temple’s incense and feng shui, they would naturally rise countless times.

Are ten high officials in the Fuqu Kingdom’s court comparable to this person’s casual ink treasure?

But that immortal had just shaken his head at it, so it dared not speak rashly, lest it angered the passing immortal and made things worse.

That night, Chen Ping’an continued to practice the Six Step Stance, combined with the Sword Furnace Standing Stance and the Thousand Autumn Sleeping Stance.

Between half-sleep and half-wake, the fist intent flowed through his whole body.

Within the small universe of the human body, there was another kind of cultivation.

Cultivating both the body and the mind.

Chen Ping’an’s heart stirred slightly, but he didn’t open his eyes, continuing to immerse his mind, continuing to practice the stance.

That day, the old caretaker saw a man in green clothes in his dream, carrying an ancient cypress branch on his back, like a wandering swordsman carrying a sword. This person frankly revealed his identity as the incarnation of the General Cypress tree in the temple’s back hall. He begged the caretaker to ask the green-robed guest to leave a calligraphy piece, no matter what, he must beg that passing immortal master who was unknown to be a celestial being to do this before continuing his journey. His words were earnest, and the man in green clothes almost wept.

After the old caretaker suddenly woke up, he sighed, seemingly unwilling to force others to do something difficult, finding it hard to ask the young scholar, whose true immortal nature was unknown, to ask for his calligraphy. But after thinking for a long time, remembering the ancient cypress’s thousand-year companionship with the temple, and the many orally transmitted miraculous deeds of sheltering the temple throughout history, the old man still put on his boots and clothes, and left the house in the night. But when he reached the guest room, he hesitated for a long time. The old man still didn’t knock on the door, turning to the ancient cypress and saying softly, “Cypress Immortal, I’m sorry. I didn’t follow your words to ask someone for help. The actions of immortals are hard to fathom. Since the other party is unwilling to leave a calligraphy piece, it must be that the temple doesn’t have enough merit or full fortune.”

The ancient cypress was silent, with only a sigh, also not forcing the old caretaker to change his mind.

Until this moment, Chen Ping’an stopped the fist stance, smiling knowingly.

Chen Ping’an always believed that whether the feng shui of a place was good or bad, the root cause was still in the people, not in the immortals or spirits. One had to talk about the order of things, the worldly saying of “As long as the green hills remain, there’s no need to worry about firewood.”

The so-called green hills were still in the hearts of the people.

Therefore, a green figure swept through the temple like the wind, arriving beside the caretaker in an instant, and smiled, “It’s a small matter.”

The ancient cypress spirit, having cultivated for a thousand years but not yet attaining a complete human form, appeared in the form of a man in green clothes, his physique still ethereal and uncertain, kneeling and kowtowing, “Thank you, immortal, for your grace.”

The old caretaker was also somewhat panicked and about to bow and thank him.

But Chen Ping’an accepted the ancient tree spirit’s kneeling, but stopped the old man’s bowing and thanks.

This was not because the tree spirit was not human, and therefore lower in status.

Rather, on the Great Dao, what the grass and tree spirits were bowing and thanking was actually the hard-won opportunity of the Great Dao.
Having observed the City God’s nightly trial, Chen Pingan felt as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth he finally grasped.

For cultivators seeking clarity of mind, they must first purify their origins.

Chen Pingan asked the old temple keeper and the ancient cypress spirit to wait, returning to the guesthouse to retrieve a golden talisman paper. He sat upright, composed himself, and meticulously inscribed a verse upon it. Securing his bamboo travel case, he returned to the ancient cypress in the rear hall and presented the talisman to the man in azure robes, stating solemnly, “Bury this talisman where the roots of the tree intertwine with the mountain’s essence. Refine it slowly thereafter. On the Great Dao, fortune and misfortune are uncertain, residing within one’s own heart. Cultivate diligently and let good beget good.”

The azure-clad man accepted the golden talisman with both hands, bowing repeatedly, tears streaming down his face in gratitude.

Chen Pingan decided against staying at the temple any longer, bidding farewell and setting off once more under the starlit sky, the bright moon casting its light upon his shoulders and the bamboo case.

Looking back, he saw the old temple keeper and the cypress spirit still watching him depart. Chen Pingan waved his hand and continued his journey.

*Well, saved some incense money.*

*Not a loss.*

Chen Pingan smiled as he walked, proceeding slowly and deliberately through the quiet night, maintaining a steady, six-step pace.

He traveled without regard for day or night, unburdened by superstitions.

Such is the way of the world. Opportunities are distributed according to each individual’s fate.

This temple meeting him, Chen Pingan, might well become a stroke of good fortune.

But another temple, even with its unique geomancy, might find a different cultivator whose nature and disposition are a better match, a fortuitous encounter. Meeting him, Chen Pingan, might mean the opportunity is simply missed.

On the Great Dao, there are countless paths, all leading upwards.

That is why fellow travelers are so few and far between.

Later, Chen Pingan stopped by the Great Water within the territory of the Lotus Blossom Kingdom, fishing beside an old man. The old man was clearly a Qi refiner, though not of a high level, merely in the Sea Gazing realm. He had an elaborate setup, with many maids and young attendants, a long row of azure fishing rods, and countless bait prepared – basin after basin, enough to feed even the largest fish in the Great Water to bursting. Noticing the young man in azure robes, who seemed to be a purely martial artist around the fourth or fifth realm and also a keen fisherman, the old fisherman instructed a maid to bring him a large basin of bait. The maid smiled and told him not to stand on ceremony, as her master was always generous to fellow anglers he met by chance, saying, “Without casting a wide net, you can’t catch big fish.” As she spoke, Chen Pingan nodded vigorously, agreeing that the old gentleman must be a true master of fishing. Initially, Chen Pingan felt a little uneasy accepting such a large basin of immortal bait, so he loudly inquired about the old immortal master’s Daoist title.

The old man laughed heartily, “Friends on the mountain like to call this old fellow ‘Sea-Filling True Man!'”

Chen Pingan glanced silently at the large basin, thinking that whether in the martial world or the cultivation world, one might have a bad name from their parents, but nicknames were always apt.

The old man kept catching fish, but couldn’t seem to reel in the rare and wondrous fish of the Great Water that he sought.

As dusk fell, a massive pleasure boat passed by the Great Water. Armored warriors stood solemnly on the deck. The boat sailed against the current, creating a huge commotion, with waves crashing against the shore, causing the bamboo fishing rods to topple.

The old man started cursing loudly, his voice full of vigor.

A figure in shimmering armor emerged from the boat, a towering martial general wielding an iron spear, his aura imposing. He stared fixedly at the old man fishing on the shore.

A maid cautiously reminded, “Master, that seems to be General Gao Ling of the Lotus Blossom Kingdom, wearing a rare Divine Dew Armor.”

“It’s Gao Ling, the Great General of the Lotus Blossom Kingdom!”

The old man recognized him. He stomped his foot, exasperated, “Damn it, I stepped on a piece of dog dung as hard as iron. I heard this guy has a bad temper. Pack up our rods and let’s get out of here!”

On the boat, a woman appeared beside the general, Gao Ling. Gao Ling lowered his head, whispering to her. She nodded, leaped lightly, and stood on the railing of the boat, ready to strike.

Chen Pingan slowly reeled in his line.

He clearly heard the conversation between the towering martial general and the woman on the boat.

The wealthy woman in silk brocade, hearing that the old fisherman was a rogue cultivator from another kingdom with the Daoist title of “Sea-Filling True Man”, known for his carefree nature and lackluster combat ability despite his Dragon Gate realm, instructed General Gao Ling to test him. There was no need to kill him, just teach him a lesson, perhaps half-killing him, and then see if he could be recruited as a guest retainer in her mansion.

The general hesitated, saying that the old man might not be willing, as he had already rejected invitations from the Azure Jade Kingdom to serve as a court enshrinement several times.

The woman simply replied, “Oh?”

The general understood immediately.

The Lotus Blossom Kingdom itself was not very powerful, but had surprisingly strong backing, and the woman beside him, with her wealth and immortal aura, was one of the conduits between the Lotus Blossom Kingdom and that backing.

Gao Ling appeared to be only in his thirties, but was actually sixty years old. He was not the highest-ranking general in the Lotus Blossom Kingdom, holding a position of Third Rank, but his fist was definitely the hardest.

One punch today might be enough to change his Third Rank position to a Proper Third Rank.

So Gao Ling laughed loudly, “I think you shouldn’t run. Why not come aboard for a drink!”

The armored general stomped his toe heavily on the deck, causing the boat to tilt sharply. A great chorus of clanking armor resounded as the armored soldiers scrambled to hold onto the railings.

Gao Ling landed on the surface of the Great Water and stepped towards the shore.

He thrust out his spear.

A Qi refiner in the Sea Gazing realm, not even a registered immortal official, just a rogue cultivator, should know better than to resist. If he didn’t know better, so much the better, as it would give him a chance to display his skills in front of the woman.

However, before Gao Ling could reach the shore, his vision blurred, and he felt a dull ache in his chest.

His body was sent hurtling backwards towards the boat.

It turned out that a figure in azure robes had appeared out of nowhere, arriving in front of Gao Ling in an instant. A palm struck his Divine Dew Armor. Gao Ling had come as fast as lightning, but his retreat was even faster, the wind whistling in his ears.

With a light palm strike, the figure sent Gao Ling flying back to the bow of the pleasure boat, where he staggered before regaining his footing.

After the light palm strike, the figure in azure robes took advantage of the momentum to retreat several feet, then swiftly spun around, returning to the shore in the blink of an eye, landing gracefully.

Gao Ling’s face was grim. He hesitated whether to put on a brave face and continue the fight. He knew he had no chance of winning. But if he let her think he had lost face, that he, Gao Ling, had failed in his duty, that would be the most awkward position, pleasing neither side.
The woman beside him, her eyes shimmering with a captivating light, smiled softly, “It’s nothing, no need to dwell on it, much less pursue it. Master has always said, the world beyond the mountains is not to be underestimated. Among the great mountains and rivers, extraordinary individuals often reside. It was worth disembarking at Dragonhead Ferry in Green Oriole Kingdom, deliberately taking this long water route. Finally, I’ve glimpsed the so-called recluse. A single glance is a reward in itself.”

Gao Ling breathed a sigh of relief.

On the shore.

The man cupped his fist in a gesture of apology towards the luxurious ship.

Gao Ling, slightly surprised, returned the gesture with a smile.

The woman, ever more radiant, murmured to herself, “Intriguing indeed. Gao Ling, I’ll remember this favor!”

The ship slowly departed.

The old cultivator of the Dragon Gate realm had just intended to befriend the man, but suddenly, the green-robed traveler had vanished without a trace.

What to do?

The old cultivator stroked his chin, then issued commands to begin moving locations, ordering the maids and attendants to relocate all the large pots to a different spot – precisely the place where the green-robed immortal had been fishing. Surely, it was a place blessed with exceptional geomancy.

As soon as he sat down, he felt refreshed. As expected, it was a place favored by an immortal at first glance. Even the river breeze caressing his face seemed sweeter.

Far away.

Chen Ping’an continued his journey.

Taking a slight detour, he walked across an open, flat plain.

Chen Ping’an suddenly stopped, stowing away his bamboo case within his miniature universe.

But a moment later, he frowned in contemplation. Could it have been a mere illusion?

Chen Ping’an slowly moved forward.

Sweeping Dust Villa was considered a sacred ground in the hearts of the martial artists of Five Ridges Kingdom.

Various legends circulated about this estate in the martial world.

Some said that the elder Wang Dun never married because, in his youth, while traveling in the north, he suffered a heartbreak, falling in love with a woman who later became the Empress Dowager of Jingnan Kingdom. Alas, fate was unkind, and the matchmakers failed to connect them. Elder Wang Dun, a man of deep affection, dedicated himself to martial arts. It was a misfortune for Wang Dun alone, but a great blessing for the entire martial world of Five Ridges Kingdom.

Others said that the estate’s homemade Slender Plum Wine was actually a recipe left behind by an immortal. A martial artist who drank a jar would increase their power by several years. That was why the disciples trained by Elder Wang Dun were all outstanding – they were all soaked in vats of Slender Plum Wine.

There were even rumors that within Sweeping Dust Villa, there was a heavily guarded, trap-laden forbidden area containing martial arts manuals personally written by Wang Dun. Anyone who obtained one could become a first-rate expert in the martial world. Obtain the saber manual, and you could rival Fu Loutai’s saber techniques; obtain the sword manual, and you could match Wang Jingshan’s swordsmanship.

These, of course, were all false. They caused outsiders to salivate, but made the insiders laugh and cry.

Lu Zhuo, one of Wang Dun’s direct disciples, felt helpless about this. But Master seemed to never care about these things.

Lu Zhuo was the least gifted among his fellow disciples. He learned everything slowly – swordsmanship, saber techniques, fist techniques. Not only was it slow, but the bottlenecks were as large as mountains, with no hope of breaking through. He couldn’t even see a sliver of light. Although Master often comforted him, in truth, Master was at a loss. In the end, Lu Zhuo resigned himself to fate. Now that the old steward was getting old and the eldest sister had married far away, the extremely talented senior brother, Wang Jingshan, had to take on the mundane affairs of the estate, which genuinely hindered his cultivation. In fact, Lu Zhuo was even more anxious than Wang Jingshan, feeling that Wang Jingshan should have ventured into the martial world to hone his skills long ago. So, Lu Zhuo began to intentionally engage in the estate’s myriad worldly affairs, planning to help the old steward and Senior Brother Wang in the future, taking on both burdens alone.

He would wake up at dawn, practice stances or swordsmanship or saber techniques until mid-morning, have breakfast, and then go to the old steward to look at the accounts, record entries, and calculate figures. The correspondence of Sweeping Dust Villa, the operating status of various properties, and the expenses of the many disciples and students in the mansion all required him to consult with the old steward one by one. Around late morning, he would finish his tasks, like a student in a village school, and go watch the younger brother practice swordsmanship or the younger sister practice saber techniques for a while. The location was in the back hills of Sweeping Dust Villa, which was quiet.

The estate had many disciples, servants, and their families, so the estate ran a family school.

In the early years, the tutors in the school were all knowledgeable, but they couldn’t be retained.

They would all stay here for a year or so and then resign. Some were retired officials, who were simply too old, and others were free-spirited literati without official positions but with considerable reputations in the literary world. In the end, Master simply hired a scholar who had no hope of passing the imperial examinations and never changed the teacher again. When that scholar had matters and asked the estate for leave, Lu Zhuo would serve as the school’s teacher.

In the afternoon, Lu Zhuo would also teach a group of fellow disciples saber techniques, swordsmanship, and fist techniques. After all, the fellow disciples of Lu Zhuo’s generation also needed to cultivate themselves, so Lu Zhuo became the most readily available person. However, Lu Zhuo not only had no resentment towards this but was also very happy to be able to help.

Lu Zhuo’s day now consisted of such trivial and fragmented tasks. It seemed like in the blink of an eye, the sky would change from the pale blue of dawn to the twilight of sunset when birds returned to their nests. Only after late evening, when the world was dim and everything was hazy, did Lu Zhuo have the opportunity to do something for himself, such as reading some miscellaneous books or browsing through the landscape gazettes that Master had purchased to learn about the strange people and events of the mountain immortals. After reading them, he had no longing or yearning, but rather maintained a respectful distance.

Lu Zhuo personally carried a lantern this day to patrol the estate, simply following routine. Although the martial world was full of diverse rumors, in reality, no one had ever trespassed Sweeping Dust Villa without permission.

In the back hills, the younger brother was still diligently practicing swordsmanship.

Lu Zhuo didn’t disturb him but walked away silently, quietly practicing stances along the way.

It was a basic boxing stance that he had practiced for many years, and Eldest Sister Fu Loutai and Senior Brother Wang Jingshan both liked to make fun of him.

Because that boxing stance was not personally taught by Wang Dun of Sweeping Dust Villa, but rather a crude boxing manual he had obtained by chance when he was young. Master Wang Dun didn’t mind Lu Zhuo practicing this boxing stance because Wang Dun had read the manual and felt that it was harmless to practice, but it was not very meaningful. Anyway, Lu Zhuo liked it himself, so he allowed Lu Zhuo to practice the boxing stance according to the manual. In fact, Wang Dun and the senior brothers and sisters were right. However, Lu Zhuo himself didn’t feel that he had wasted his efforts.

On the way down the mountain, he saw the hunched old steward standing at the bottom of the steps, seemingly waiting for him.

Lu Zhuo quickly descended the mountain.

The old steward had a clear, thin appearance and a gaunt figure, wearing a long blue gown. However, the old man often coughed, as if he had developed a root illness in his early years, which had never fully healed.
The old man’s leg had a slight limp, barely noticeable.

The old man’s surname was Wu, and his given name was Fengjia, a rather uncommon name. Except for Lu Zhuo and his fellow disciples, the younger generation and children no longer knew the old man’s name. From Fu Loutai, Wang Dun’s eldest disciple, to Lu Zhuo and his youngest brother, they all affectionately called the old man Grandpa Wu. When Lu Zhuo first entered the manor as a boy, the old steward was already tending to it. It was said that the old steward had been in the manor for as many years as the manor had existed.

Lu Zhuo said softly, “Grandpa Wu, the wind is strong and the night is cool. I can take care of the night patrol.”

The old man waved his hand and continued the patrol with Lu Zhuo, smiling gently, “Lu Zhuo, I have two things to tell you, which may be… disappointing, yes, disappointing.”

Lu Zhuo found it a little strange; the old steward seemed different tonight. Usually, the old man gave off an air of twilight, like a flickering candle, nearing its end. This actually worried Lu Zhuo. Perhaps because his martial arts were unlikely to reach the pinnacle, Lu Zhuo would think about things beyond martial arts, such as the plight of the old man in the manor, whether the children would have a chance to participate in the imperial examinations, and whether the New Year’s atmosphere in the manor would be more festive this year.

The old man slowly said, “Lu Zhuo, you actually have the aptitude for cultivation, and if you were lucky enough to meet a master in your early years, your future would be bright. It’s just a pity that you met your master, Wang Dun, and switched to martial arts, wasting your talent.”

Lu Zhuo smiled, about to speak, but the old man waved his hand, interrupting Lu Zhuo, “Don’t say it’s okay, because you, Lu Zhuo, have never personally witnessed the splendor of the immortals on the mountain. Qi Jinglong, of course, has a high realm, but he is just a chance encounter friend. And that Qi Jinglong is a little oddball, more like a refined scholar despite not being one. So you don’t really know about cultivation on the mountain.”

Lu Zhuo was speechless.

The old man continued, “Furthermore, your martial arts talent, Lu Zhuo, is really ordinary, very ordinary. So your martial arts bottlenecks are real obstacles, and you can’t get past them now, and you may never get past them in your whole life.”

Lu Zhuo sighed, feeling a little sad, “Grandpa Wu, I know myself best.”

The old man also felt inexplicably sad, “Among so many children in the manor, I actually have the highest regard for your character, so I let you unintentionally get that boxing manual. But many things in the world are so helpless. It’s not that you, Lu Zhuo, are a good person that your life will be smooth. When you were young, you couldn’t compare to your senior sister and brother, and after you grow up, you can only watch your junior brothers and sisters leave you behind. Even when you’re old, you still can’t compare to their disciples, your nephews. So whether you’re disappointed or not, I am very disappointed, not in people’s hearts, but in the ways of the world.”

Lu Zhuo was somewhat shocked.

The old man turned his head to look at Lu Zhuo, “Lu Zhuo, let me ask you one last question, do you mind being mediocre for the rest of your life, being a manor steward, and in the future, year after year, the scenery is good, but it has nothing to do with you?”

Lu Zhuo thought carefully, and then laughed, “It really doesn’t matter, I’ll just be a good manor steward.”

The old man nodded, “Very good. Don’t underestimate yourself, with people like you, doing small things, the world will have greater hope, and grand events will appear. So, my previous disappointment is insignificant. Every Lu Zhuo is the hope of this world. This kind of grand talk, spoken by a tattered old man sweeping the manor, Qiu Fengjia, seems very shameless, right?”

Lu Zhuo laughed, unwilling to say insincere words, and unwilling to hurt the old man’s heart, so he compromised and said, “It’s alright.”

The old man laughed heartily, with not a trace of decay or illness at this moment.

*An eagle stands as if asleep, a tiger walks as if sick, precisely when it employs its means to seize and devour.*

“Since you have passed my test of character, it’s time for you to change paths and ascend, not to waste your spirit in trivial matters!”

The old man said, “I will leave the manor tonight. After hiding for many years, it’s time to make a clean break. I have left two letters in the accounting room, a mountain treasure, and a celestial secret manual. One you give to Wang Dun, just say that you, his disciple, he has delayed for many years, and he should let go. Carry one letter with you and go to Qi Jinglong, and then go to cultivate, to be an immortal on the mountain! A Lu Zhuo who is willing to be a manor steward for a lifetime can make the world’s hope greater, then a Lu Zhuo who climbs mountains, cultivates, and practices the sword, is naturally more beneficial to the world.”

Lu Zhuo looked stunned.

The old man grabbed Lu Zhuo’s head with one hand and punched Lu Zhuo’s chest, severely injuring Lu Zhuo on the spot, his soul agitated, but he was unable to speak, and was in great pain.

“Everything else is good, but it’s this twisted, hesitant temperament that I hate the most. You, Lu Zhuo, don’t fight for a place on the summit, are you going to give way to those cultivators who are worse than bastards?!”

The old man stared at Lu Zhuo, who was almost unconscious, and said in a deep voice, “But if you want to embark on the path of cultivation, you can only break the Bridge of Longevity first! Remember, grit your teeth, and if you can endure it, everything will be hopeful. If you can’t endure it, you can just be a manor steward.”

When the old man released his hand, Lu Zhuo fell to the ground, the lantern in his hand falling to the ground.

Lu Zhuo vomited blood.

The old man squatted down and laughed, “Of course, I’m not called Wu Fengjia, it’s just the name of a dead swordsman when I was traveling the world. He died on the spot to save a roadside beggar crushed by a carriage wheel. That little cripple, who practiced boxing all his life, just wanted to prove one thing to his savior, a fourth-realm martial artist gave up his life to save an orphan covered in pus. This thing, is worth it!”

Lu Zhuo only felt that the pure essence of a martial artist was gradually dissipating, the pain was unbearable, but he still gritted his teeth, trying to listen carefully to every word of the old man.
The old man smiled, “I’ve self-taught myself a set of crude boxing techniques. After all, in the eyes of ordinary people, my aptitude is mediocre, not a genius. Looking back now, the boxing manuals, the stances, and the moves are indeed sparse and commonplace. That’s why I buried myself in practicing the art, and it wasn’t until I was over forty that I dared to publicly declare that I would seek revenge against that immortal estate, the leading force of an entire nation. Everyone laughed at me, saying I was like an ant trying to shake a tree, overestimating my abilities! Very well, the fundamental principle of my boxing technique lies in the ant moving mountains and filling the seas! Unfortunately, you, Lu Zhuo, have practiced the boxing manual for many years but have never been able to grasp its essence, unable to embody the spirit of the art. No matter, there are countless paths in this world. It’s enough that you are a good person, Lu Zhuo. It doesn’t matter whether you are my direct disciple.”

Finally, the old man lightly tapped Lu Zhuo’s forehead with two fingers, putting him to sleep. After all, Lu Zhuo no longer needed to scale the heights of martial arts; enduring this bit of physical hardship was meaningless. The incessant surging of his spirit was the key to cultivating the Dao on the mountain in the future.

The old man in the long blue gown stood up and muttered to himself, “My true name is Gu You.”

The old man laughed, “Before settling the life-and-death matter with that Ji from Ape Cry Mountain, it seems I should first meet that young man. If he dies, then it’s a repayment for my Hushan Fist manual. If he doesn’t die… hehe, that seems rather difficult.”

After pondering for a moment, the old man sneered, “I won’t bully him. Since he’s competing to be the strongest pure martial artist in the sixth realm, then I’ll suppress my cultivation and only use… the power of a ninth-realm martial artist to deliver a blow.”

On the plain.

Chen Ping An felt that something was increasingly wrong.

A tremendous sense of impending doom enveloped the heavens and the earth.

There was no avoiding it, no escaping it.

This was his second journey through the Northern Continent.

The first time was at the foot of Mount Zheng Rong, when he encountered the sword immortal Ji Yue from Ape Cry Mountain.

Chen Ping An felt no panic; instead, his mind became as still as water in an instant.

Beyond the limit of Chen Ping An’s vision, an old man wearing a long blue gown stood still, having closed his eyes for a long time to gather his spirit.

When he opened his eyes, he took a step forward.

Silently.

But in an instant, the earth erupted as if from a spring thunder.

Along a straight line.

Chen Ping An narrowed his eyes.

The talismans sewn into his sleeves, the golden liquid within his robes, the two flying swords—even for a sword immortal, at this moment, these were all extraneous objects, destined to be of no help to a pure martial artist.

Chen Ping An trusted his intuition.

The opponent was at least a mountain-peak realm martial artist!

The condensation and thickness of the fist intent were inconceivable.

Chen Ping An began to run straight ahead.

To retreat or evade would diminish his own fist intent by a fraction, reducing his chances of survival by the same amount.

A weakening of fist intent was akin to admitting defeat.

In the martial world, admitting defeat often meant death.

A single punch exchanged.

Chen Ping An was immediately sent flying dozens of feet, landing abruptly but unable to stop his backward momentum. The soles of his boots were completely worn away.

His entire body felt like it was falling apart.

This was the first time Chen Ping An had used the Divine Man Drumming Style, yet the fist he delivered was instantly broken!

The other man, however, stood motionless, strolling leisurely as if allowing Chen Ping An to switch to pure vital energy, drifting after him, and delivering another punch.

Chen Ping An, whose vision was already blurred, was struck squarely by another blow.

He flew backward once more.

Powerless to retaliate.

The figure in the long blue gown had already leaped into the sky, delivering a punch downward.

This punch struck Chen Ping An’s chest.

A large crater appeared in the earth.

Chen Ping An, covered in blood, collapsed to the ground.

His flesh and blood, meridians, limbs, orifices, and spiritual sea were all on the verge of collapse.

The old man, who was at least a mountain-peak realm martial artist, simply stood on the edge of the crater, hands clasped behind his back, saying nothing, no longer throwing punches, but merely looking down at the bloody figure in the pit.

He saw the young man, who had already completely lost consciousness, first slightly twitch a finger on his left hand, then attempt to use his elbow to brace himself against the ground, struggling to get up.

The old man in blue merely watched with a cold expression the young martial artist’s various subconscious struggles.

It took the young man a full half-incense stick of time to go from repeatedly lifting his elbow, raising his back off the ground, repeatedly collapsing, to being able to support himself with both hands, and then to staggeringly stand up.

The old man coldly said, “I’ll just stand here. If you can walk up to me and deliver a punch, you can live.”

The young man, who had actually lost consciousness and only had a remnant of his life force remaining, lowered his head, bent over, swaying his arms, and staggered forward.

The twenty-odd steps he took out of the crater’s slope were like a child carrying a huge basket, enduring the scorching sun, climbing a mountain to gather herbs.

Step by step, the young man, his face covered in blood, just barely managed to raise an arm.

The old man said indifferently, “Sorry, you still have to die.”

Raising a hand and swinging his fist, the old man in the blue gown and cloth shoes punched the young man back into the pit.

The old man stepped down into the crater, sneering, “The older one gets, the higher the realm, the more afraid of death? No wonder after the fleeting appearance of the strongest three realms, the fourth and fifth realms failed to compete for that title of strongest! Since that’s the case, I think you’d be better off dead. Giving that bit of martial fortune to someone else would be better. Giving it to someone like you, I feel like it sullies that boxing manual of mine.”

The half-dead person was silent and still.

The old man frowned, then lowered his head and saw the person’s fingers twitching again.

The old man smiled.

Very good!

It might seem like a small thing.

But it was the biggest thing in the world, one that could not be faked!

The old man burst out laughing.