Song Jixin stood atop the mountain, his vision unhindered. Having spent years confined to the mud-brick alley, surrounded only by mud walls, the youth savored the feeling of ascending to such heights, a thousand leagues of mountains and rivers laid out beneath his feet.

Song Changjing, the princely vassal, adjusted his expensive yet timeworn fox fur cloak. Today, he was unusually loquacious, pointing towards a high mountain to the west. “That mountain is called Piyun Mountain. It may one day be officially recognized by the Dali as one of the Ten Great Mountains outside the Five Peaks. According to the ancient customs passed down through generations, a mountain god will appear, worthy of being recorded in the ancestral annals. This god will receive a gilded statue, enjoy the offerings of mortals, and suppress the regional fortune for the Dali, preventing it from flowing elsewhere and benefiting neighboring countries. Only those common folk who stand atop Piyun Mountain can possibly see Longtou Mountain, where we stand now. This is because Longtou Mountain is protected by a great formation, rendering it invisible to ordinary mortal eyes. Consider it a stroke of good fortune. According to secret records in the yamen, several individuals throughout history have ascended Longtou Mountain and successfully left this domain.”

Song Jixin inquired, “Did those individuals all rise to prominence? Did they become figures of importance in the Dali or even throughout the Eastern Treasure Bottle Continent?”

Song Changjing chuckled. “Two of them fared quite well in the Dali. Though separated by a mere thirty years, one a scholar and the other a warrior, they were later hailed as the Twin Pillars of the Dali. The scholar was posthumously awarded the title ‘Wenzheng’ [Exemplary of Literature], while the warrior secured for his descendants the considerable hereditary title of Senior Pillar of the State. Though I personally hold a very low opinion of their descendants, I must acknowledge the debt that our Song family and the Dali owe them. After all, had they not joined forces to turn the tide, the Dali Song clan would not have survived that particular crisis.”

Song Jixin, feeling the mountain breeze caress his face, experienced a sensation akin to ascending to immortality. He asked, “What about the others?”

Song Changjing exhaled softly, feeling increasingly refreshed and invigorated as he suppressed the surging Qi within him, like forcibly pressing down a rising sun with a single hand. At that moment, Song Changjing was utterly certain that the instant he crossed that threshold, he would ascend to the Tenth Realm, the very pinnacle of martial arts!

Any cultivator below the Upper Five Realms would stand virtually no chance against a Tenth Realm Grandmaster, a martial arts expert who had reached the pinnacle of their art. They would be crushed and obliterated.

Calming his mind, Song Changjing revealed a less comforting truth to the youth. “They are all dead. I personally killed one of them. At the time, I was merely a Seventh Realm martial artist, and the man was a rather troublesome sword cultivator, at the height of his power. I pursued him for seven or eight hundred *li*, finally catching up to him in a small place called White Fox Pass, on the southern border of the Dali. After shattering all of his protective artifacts and his natal flying sword, I snapped his neck. There was no other choice. Those who refuse to serve the Dali face only one fate. The Song family has always treated cultivators well, but only on the condition that these cultivators are willing to serve the Song family, even if it’s just for show.”

During the latter half of that life-or-death struggle, Song Changjing broke through to the Eighth Realm.

Song Jixin, however, was uninterested in his princely uncle’s legendary experiences. He simply asked, “Did some other dynasty offer them a higher price, leading them to betray the Dali?”

Song Changjing smiled. “Before that sword cultivator, that was often the case. The Dali is located in a remote region with fierce customs. It is a nation that reveres martial prowess, where martial arts geniuses are commonplace and therefore of little value. Cultivators, however, those soft, scholarly types, are as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. Therefore, whenever a few emerge, successive emperors of the Dali are eager to treat them like bodhisattvas, offering them every comfort. The current Emperor, my esteemed elder brother, is no exception, of course. That sword cultivator once had an audience with my brother, carrying his sword and holding his nose to the sky, an utterly infuriating sight. He had just been fortunate enough to acquire a handy protective treasure, and his influence was at its zenith. Therefore, upon seeing me, he didn’t even offer a greeting. Just like that.”

Song Jixin asked, “And then?”

Song Changjing cast a sidelong glance at his nephew, his eyes filled with the same look he’d give an imbecile. “And then he died, didn’t he?”

Song Jixin looked utterly bewildered. “Uncle, you killed a great cultivator, a pillar of our nation, simply because he didn’t greet you?”

Song Changjing said indifferently, “Some people, you simply cannot indulge.”

Song Jixin regarded him with suspicion, unable to comprehend how such an unruly Dali royal, one who disregarded the greater good, had managed to survive to this day.

Song Changjing chuckled. “You may not know this, but in the entire Eastern Treasure Bottle Continent, only one dynasty requires its cultivators, regardless of their background or connections, to serve the Emperor by going to the frontier battlefields for three years, engaging in real combat. If their military achievements are insufficient, they remain on the frontier, exposed to the elements, until they accumulate enough merit to return home and enjoy their rewards.”

Song Jixin was even more puzzled. “But didn’t you say that the Dali venerates cultivators the most? How can there be such a rule? Moreover, isn’t the Dali afraid that these people will die on the battlefield?”

Song Changjing laughed heartily. “This unwritten rule was established after I gained control of the military.”

Song Jixin suddenly realized. “The sword cultivator refused to go to the battlefield and embarrassed you? Did other cultivators then follow his example, thereby undermining the military and civilian morale of the Dali? Therefore, you had to choose the lesser of two evils?”

Song Changjing shook his head. “That sword cultivator joined the army at the frontier when he was young and accumulated enough military merit in just one year. He had quite a good reputation in the Dali.”

Song Jixin was annoyed and enraged. “Then why?! Did you fight over a woman? Did he violate some taboo of the Song clan? Or did he secretly collude with the enemy?”

Song Changjing’s answer was simple. “Although cultivators and martial artists walk different paths, the former are indeed more… well, as that embroidered tiger [nickname for a highly regarded scholar] would say, more precious. Even if a martial artist reaches the Tenth Realm, it is still the end of their path. Cultivators, however, can still ascend to the Upper Five Realms. The difference between the two is considerable. If you were to select the very best from both groups, the Upper Five Realm cultivators would be like standing on the summit of this mountain, while martial artists like me would be like standing atop Piyun Mountain. Of course, a Grandmaster at the pinnacle of martial arts is not entirely defenseless against Eleventh and Twelfth Realm cultivators, but in the eyes of the common folk, martial artists are just unrefined brutes who only know how to fight. We are considered inferior to cultivators. So, during that meeting in the palace, although he didn’t greet me, he deliberately looked at me askance, a smirk on his face. He was very provocative. I simply wanted to teach him a lesson.”

Song Jixin was dumbstruck.

Teach someone a lesson? At least leave them a way out! Was it really necessary to snap their neck?

However, Song Changjing did not want to continue discussing the subject of the dead man. “Wouldn’t you like to know about that middle-aged man who fought to the death with me?”

Song Jixin swallowed involuntarily, remaining silent.

Although the three carriages had departed earlier, the clash between those two was earth-shattering. On one occasion, Song Changjing fell from the sky, creating a large crater a dozen *zhang* away from the carriage. On another occasion, Song Changjing returned the favor. At the time, the youth had climbed onto the roof of the carriage and personally witnessed that burly man, a dragon on land, being punched by Song Changjing into the side of a small hill, the resulting eruption of dust was spectacular.

Superhuman.

That was the youth’s only impression at the time.

In truth, Song Changjing’s battle with that emergent hero was far from ethereal. It was more like exchanging blows, exchanging wounds, exchanging lives! It was a contest of who was more unreasonable.

Song Changjing suddenly ruffled the youth’s hair, his voice and tone unexpectedly gentle. “My brother’s ambitions are great. While the Emperor of the Great Sui is still only focused on the Dali, my brother has already set his sights on Old Dragon City, at the southernmost edge of the Eastern Treasure Bottle Continent. Are you not curious as to why I, a prince of the Dali by blood and a vassal who controls the nation’s military power, possessing unrivaled prestige in the military and among the people, am still able to maintain brotherly harmony with your father?”

Song Jixin smiled cunningly. “Uncle, you can tell me if you want.”

Song Changjing withdrew his hand and said in a deep voice, “Because the only thing I desire is to witness the scenery beyond the pinnacle of martial arts. Only by reaching that realm will I, Song Changjing, have lived a life worth living.”

At that moment, a torrent of emotions surged within the youth, and he asked in a trembling voice, “If I wholeheartedly devote myself, can I reach your height one day, Uncle?”

Song Changjing shook his head and chuckled. “You? If you practice martial arts, you’ll reach the Eighth Realm at best. You have no future in it. You’re better off being a cultivator. You’ll definitely achieve more.”

Song Jixin was somewhat unconvinced. “Why can I only reach the Eighth Realm?”

Song Changjing smiled playfully. “Only?”

Song Jixin blushed slightly.

Song Changjing did not dwell on the youth’s ignorance and looked towards the distance, saying slowly, “Cultivators rely on blessings from the heavens. Good fortune is very important. They might stumble upon a lucky encounter today, pick up a magical treasure tomorrow, accidentally meet a hidden immortal the day after, and comprehend something after appreciating the scenery the day after that. It’s as if everything they do can increase their cultivation. Martial artists, however, are very different. There are no shortcuts. They can only advance step by step. It’s quite dull.”

Song Jixin’s mood was complicated, and he felt somewhat disappointed.

Song Changjing ignored his nephew, turning towards the carriage. After spotting the young maiden’s back out of the corner of his eye, he hesitated and walked over to her, looking up at the great doorway alongside her.

Song Changjing said to himself, “The aura of the True Dragon, condensed into a pearl. Among the dragon-like creatures in this world, pearls are the most precious, like a cultivator’s natal soul.”

The maid, Zhigui, did not turn her head, but she betrayed a hint of nervousness.

Song Changjing smiled. “The price that the Dali paid for those four words written on the Langqiao [Covered Bridge] plaque, ‘Wind Arises, Water Rises,’ is beyond the comprehension of outsiders. ‘Water Rises,’ why must the water rise? Isn’t it to allow the flood dragon to traverse the rivers unhindered? I, however, am not particularly concerned about these things. Everything is simply the wish of your young master’s ruthless father. After you leave this small blessed land, I suspect that, aside from that embroidered tiger in the capital, no one will dare to boss you around.”

Song Changjing turned to look at the maiden’s profile. “Although your fate is intertwined with that of my nephew, Song Jixin, bound together in glory and disgrace, do not become too arrogant. Do not give me any reason to act. Well, for the sake of the Dali’s empire and my nephew Song Jixin, I can make an exception and give you two opportunities to seek death. That should suffice for the saying, ‘Things should not be done more than thrice.'”

The maiden suddenly became furious. She turned around first, then took two steps back, glaring fiercely at the Dali prince who filled her with terror. “I was never human to begin with, yet you want to restrain me with the rules of mortals. Who is being unreasonable? What do the golden laws and regulations of you humans have to do with me?!”

Song Changjing laughed with delight. “Don’t misunderstand. I will never be fastidious about trifles. On the contrary, I am your greatest protector.”

Song Changjing gazed at the maiden, her eyes displaying a strange golden sheen. He finally said, “After that fight, you and I are actually allies on the same boat. Remember these words, especially in the future, when you are qualified to make important decisions. Think carefully about these words.”

Song Changjing turned and walked away.

Beside the carriage, a middle-aged coachman exuding the rough aura of the battlefield could not resist commenting on the Dali prince’s conspicuous white fox fur cloak. “Your Highness, when are you going to get a new fox fur cloak? It’s been so many years. Your Highness may not be tired of wearing it, but we’re tired of seeing it!”

Song Changjing boarded the carriage, bent down, and lifted the curtain, saying impatiently, “After we conquer the Great Sui.”

The coachman laughed heartily, showing no constraint in the face of the powerful prince of the Dali, a figure second only to the Emperor.

Song Changjing had spent twenty years in the military. As a general, he could not be expected to be at the front lines in every battle, as his primary role was to strategize and command from his tent. However, when war erupted on the Dali’s borders and in the case of any decisive battles, Song Changjing would invariably lead the charge himself. The prince, in his daily life, never indulged in fine wines or beautiful women and could almost be described as “devoid of worldly possessions.”

After Song Changjing sat down in the carriage, he sat cross-legged, his brow furrowed. “That person wants me to wait at the foot of the mountain after leaving the Lizhu Grotto-Heaven, to ‘wait a while, and look up.’ Wait for what? Look at what?”

—————

Song Jixin and the maid, Zhigui, also entered the carriage. The carriage was prepared to depart through the great door.

Song Jixin noticed that Zhigui was curled up in the corner, shivering. He asked worriedly, “What’s wrong?”

Zhigui said in a trembling voice, “I can sense it. There are countless terrifying things on the other side of the door.”

Song Jixin smiled reassuringly. “With my uncle around, what do you have to fear? Don’t be afraid, he can hold up the sky if it falls.”

Unexpectedly, Zhigui became even more terrified, shrinking further into the corner and said in a tearful voice, “Even he can’t hold it up!”

—————

A rare guest had arrived at the town’s largest tavern.

A teacher with frost in his temples ordered a pot of wine and several dishes of side dishes, drinking and enjoying himself.

It turned out that the teacher was not holding classes today.

The pupils of the school happily returned home one by one.

When he finished the last cup of wine and the last bite of food, he gently placed the chopsticks down.

With a *snap*.

The Thousand Mile Grotto-Heaven became silent, everything was still.

This world instantly shattered.

At that moment, every god on the mountains and every mortal below in the Eastern Treasure Bottle Continent involuntarily looked up.

But in the next moment, an immortal who seemed to be above even the immortals used a great power that could change the world to obscure the entire scene of the Lizhu Grotto-Heaven.

In the northern sky of the Eastern Treasure Bottle Continent, ten thousand *li* of clouds churned, slowly descending.

There was a person, entirely white, with flowing sleeves, his height seemingly immeasurable, sitting upright. Before him floated a broken pearl the size of his palm.

The scale of this person’s form was as if he considered the entire Eastern Treasure Bottle Continent as his private school.

Above the boundless sea of clouds, voices of authority boomed like thunder.

“Qi Jingchun, you are being presumptuous!”

“Insurrection!”

“Repent and turn back!”

The scholar looked down at the pearl, slowly withdrew his gaze, and finally raised his head, saying loudly, “The backlash of the Heavenly Dao accumulated by the small town for three thousand years, I, Qi Jingchun, will bear it all!”