That Great Demon of the Throne, Huang Luan, who wielded the “Sleeves of the Universe” to forcibly snatch Zhuqie and his companions from the foot of the Sword Qi Great Wall, was the very one who had refined countless Immortal ruins into her own courtyard.

Lu Zhi, drawing her sword, left the city wall to personally intercept this pinnacle demon reputed to be the most ethereal in the desolate wilderness. Despite the sword immortal Mi Hu launching a preemptive strike from the Golden River, Huang Luan managed to escape back to the Jiashen Camp. Her escape came at the cost of half of her right sleeve and the destruction of a miniature world within her sleeve, aided by the personal reception from the great demon Yangzhi.

Lu Zhi stood upon the Golden River, where sword immortals were becoming increasingly rare, choosing not to return to the Sword Qi Great Wall, instead holding her ground.

Her earlier swordplay had been too restrained, as the battlefield was situated between the river and the city wall, crowded with allied sword cultivators.

Old Sword Cultivator Yin Chen sat cross-legged amidst the strokes of the “Great” character, shaking his head, his expression filled with disapproval. He scoffed, muttering to himself, “If I possessed her cultivation, that Huang Luan wouldn’t have escaped. This battle has reached this point, and she still doesn’t know how to calculate a profitable exchange. How did you become a Great Sword Immortal, Lu Zhi? Women will be women, plagued by soft heartedness.”

This was likely how Yin Chen earned his beloved reputation within the Sword Qi Great Wall.

Outside the Jiashen Camp, Huang Luan shook her right sleeve, scattering several young sword cultivators, tiny as mustard seeds, onto the ground.

Zhuqie sheathed his sword and offered his thanks. Li Zhen’s face was dark, while Yu Si was disheveled, supporting the unconscious young Tan.

As for Liubai, she had suffered the most severe injuries, but fortunately, her soul had been gathered by Tan.

Mu Ji, the young leader of the Jiashen Camp who, although not a sword cultivator, upon learning of Liubai’s condition, bowed low in gratitude to the senior.

Huang Luan smiled, “Mu Ji, you are all the fortune of our world. The Great Dao stretches far and wide, and there will always be opportunities to repay the kindness of saving a life.”

Mu Ji’s expression was resolute. “This junior will never forget this great kindness.”

If a sword immortal seed truly perished in the Jiashen Camp, then Mu Ji, as its leader, would bear more than just the gains and losses recorded in the accounts. Thus, Huang Luan’s actions were tantamount to saving Mu Ji’s life as well.

Yangzhi waved her hand, banishing Yu Si from her presence. Standing where Yu Si had been, she gently cradled the youth in her arms. She extended a finger, pressing it against Tan’s brow. The purest water essence in the world flowed from her fingertip, nourishing the youth’s meridians. At the same time, she rubbed her fingers together, conjuring a radiant white short sword, an ancient relic she had treasured for many years. She pressed it against Tan’s brow, compensating for the loss of his own vital flying sword.

Moments later, Tan stirred awake. Seeing the familiar face of the woman adorned with an imperial crown and a black dragon robe, his eyes reddened, and he choked out, “Master.”

Yangzhi said softly, “Don’t dwell on such minor setbacks.”

Tan was, after all, still a youth. Having suffered such a calamity and grievous injuries, it was truly remarkable that his dao heart remained intact. However, his sorrow was genuine. The youth choked back tears, “That fellow was too treacherous. It felt like we were always dueling him. What will happen to Sister Liubai?”

In the end, the boy still cared for his Sister Liubai.

Yangzhi laughed, “I’ve always found Liubai lacking in beauty, unworthy of you. Now it’s perfect. Let Mister Zhou simply give her a new, beautiful face, and then you two can become daoist partners.”

The youth quickly shook his head, for that was not his intention.

Yangzhi rubbed the youth’s head, “It’s all up to you.”

Huang Luan was greatly surprised. When had Yangzhi taken in such a close disciple?

Sword Immortal Shouchuan hurriedly arrived at the Jiashen Camp, retrieving his younger sister’s soul from Tan. After confirming that Liubai’s golden core and nascent soul were unharmed, Shouchuan breathed a sigh of relief. He thanked everyone before carefully gathering Liubai’s soul with his magic, hurrying off to his master.

The reason for taking a detour was, of course, the sake of that A Liang.

Huang Luan flew away on the wind, returning to the ornate pavilions and choosing a secluded spot to breathe and circulate energy, devouring the abundant spiritual energy in one gulp.

In reality, this endeavor had cost him the most. Using his meticulously cultivated Hou Kui Gate as a puppet in the battlefield, as a preemptive strike against the young Hidden Official, had not only resulted in the loss of an important pawn, but also earned him a sword strike each from Lu Zhi and Mi Hu, shattering half of his Dharma robe sleeve and an entire minor world. The key point was that he had needlessly lost three hundred years of cultivation.

Huang Luan’s mind stirred, and a pavilion appeared out of thin air not far away, its beams and corridors made from the corpses of numerous dragons. Huang Luan immediately opened the restrictions and absorbed it into his own miniature world.

Huang Luan smiled faintly, “Thank you, Ancestor, for the reward.”

Mu Ji had already returned to the military tent.

Zhuqie and Li Zhen stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the battle from afar.

In the previous attempt to surround and kill the Hidden Official, neither of them had the chance to exert their full strength, and they hadn’t even been injured. But compared to Liubai, Tan, and Yu Si, they were probably the most frustrated.

Li Zhen communicated with Zhuqie telepathically, “Who would have thought we’d lose to a flying sword’s natal divine ability? If not for that, even if Chen Ping An had two more natal flying swords, he would have died!”

Zhuqie said, “Complaining is allowed, but I hope you don’t take it out on Tan and Yu Si.”

Li Zhen sneered, “If you didn’t remind me, I would have forgotten they were even participating. Three pieces of trash, what did they do besides drag us down?”

Zhuqie frowned, “Li Zhen, I dare say that in a hundred years, even Liubai, who suffered the most severe injuries, will have greater achievements in the sword path than you.”

Li Zhen was silent for a moment, then mocked himself, “Are you sure I’ll live for a hundred years?”

Zhuqie retorted, “Is it important whether or not it’s Li Zhen? Are you sure you’re a sword cultivator? Can you even deliver a sword strike for yourself?”

Zhuqie was greatly puzzled. The Li Zhen of Mount Tuoyue, although unruly and arrogant, had possessed a sharpness that Zhuqie didn’t find wrong.

But for some reason, after “dying” once, Li Zhen’s personality seemed to become increasingly extreme, even disheartened.

Li Zhen rubbed his face with his hands, muttering, “Have you personally walked the River of Time? Perhaps not, perhaps you have, but you certainly haven’t seen the riverbed of the River of Time. I have. It’s fate.”

Zhuqie listened to Li Zhen’s quiet mutterings, his brows tightly furrowed.

Yu Si stood alone and forlorn, even more dejected than the disheartened Li Zhen.
Solitude breeds loneliness, yet loneliness often arises amidst bustling crowds.

A figure materialized beside him, a young woman with crimson eyes. Her Dharma robe was interwoven with fine, ethereal green “threads”—each a river or stream she had painstakingly refined over countless years.

She softly comforted him, “Young Master, it’s alright, I’m here.”

Then, she fixed her gaze on the graceful Yang Zhi, the two facing each other, the new and old masters of the Ye Luo River.

Yu Si casually brushed off the young woman’s hand, taking a step forward, and said calmly, “Let’s go.”

The woman trailed behind him.

Tan was stunned by this sight.

Within the military tent, Geta raised his head, then lowered it again.

Geta had always known the lineage of Li Zhen, Zhu Qie, and Liu Bai, but it was only today that he learned the true backers of Tan and Yu Si.

The young man scratched his head, wondering when he would be able to take in disciples and become their patron?

Chen Ping An suddenly woke up, sitting up from his bed. Thankfully, it was the Ning family’s small residence that he hadn’t been back to for a long time, not the foot of the Sword Qi Great Wall.

Chen Ping An reached up to press his forehead, his head throbbing with pain. He exhaled a heavy breath, a simple action that caused the entire miniature world within his body to churn like a stormy sea. This couldn’t be a dream. With the myriad of immortal arts on the mountain and the strangeness of the world, one had to be cautious.

Chen Ping An stared blankly towards the doorway.

A man sat on the threshold, tilting back his head to drink from a wine pot.

Even the strong medicinal scent filling the room couldn’t mask the aroma of the wine.

The man stood up, leaning against the door frame, and laughed, “Don’t worry, someone like me would only appear in a maiden’s dreams.”

At this, the man wiped his mouth and chuckled to himself.

The affairs of the world are as short as a spring dream, a spring dream leaves no trace, like a spring dream, the millet not yet cooked, the deer already gone…

The scholar was recalling some beautiful lines of poetry, utterly proper.

Chen Ping An felt relieved; it was a real person.

Chen Ping An and A Liang met each other’s gaze for a long time, before Chen Ping An spoke the first words, a real mood-killer, “A Liang, when are you leaving?”

He hoped A Liang would return to the Sword Qi Great Wall, but he didn’t want A Liang to stay at the Sword Qi Great Wall, he would die.

In this war, the only one who dared to say that they absolutely would not die was the gray-robed old man of the Wild Desolate World’s Jia Zi Camp.

Even the great demon kings of the Wild Desolate World, like Yang Zhi and Huang Luan, dared not be so certain.

On the Sword Qi Great Wall’s side, there were no exceptions.

“If I wanted to leave, a whole bunch of Ascension Realm cultivators couldn’t stop me. If I didn’t want to leave, even the Eldest Sword Immortal couldn’t chase me away. What makes you think you could persuade me?”

A Liang sighed, shaking the wine pot in his hand, and said, “You’re still the same as ever. What’s the point of worrying so much? You can’t handle it all. The boy of the past didn’t act like a boy, and the young man of today still doesn’t act like a young man. Do you think that once you cross this threshold, you’ll be able to live a comfortable life? Dream on.”

The consequence of today’s events, seemingly understood as the cause of yesterday, is often the cause of tomorrow’s events.

Why do cultivators ascend the mountain? It’s not just about occupying a geomantically advantageous location.

A Liang reached out with his wine pot and tapped the young man, “I shouldn’t have let you practice boxing and cultivate so early. I’m a terrible senior brother anyway. I’ll talk to him next time we meet.”

Cultivators expend their minds, not their strength; pure martial artists expend their strength, not their minds. This kid was doing both, practically inviting suffering upon himself.

However, A Liang didn’t say anything too harsh. Some of his words were just coming from a place of privilege. But it was still better than being so weak that even standing was painful; otherwise, the man would have no hope in this lifetime.

A Liang gestured for Chen Ping An to lie down and recuperate. He sat back down on the threshold, continuing to drink. This pot of immortal wine was borrowed from Sword Immortal Sun Juyuan’s residence on the way here. He couldn’t be blamed for not announcing himself since no one was home.

Chen Ping An curiously asked, “Did you get into a fight?”

A Liang faced the courtyard, looking weary, his back to Chen Ping An, “Just a couple. If it went on, I reckon the Jia Zi Camp would be completely stirred up. I’ve always been afraid of hornet’s nests, so I hurried over here to drink a little wine and calm my nerves.”

It wasn’t the kind of fight where he was surrounded and beaten that stirred his spirits, this A Liang just couldn’t muster the energy.

It was just that after finally revisiting old haunts, the taste of the wine was the same as ever, but many friends had become old friends, so there was more sadness than anything.

It seemed that he had always been this way in his life, so no matter how much he drank, he could never truly be happy.

A Liang casually asked, “Did you promise the Eldest Sword Immortal something?”

Chen Ping An said, “The Sword Qi Great Wall can be defended for three more years.”

Unknowingly, he had already been at the Sword Qi Great Wall for many years. If it were in the Vast World, it would be enough for Chen Ping An to wander through the Shu Jian Lake again. If he were to travel alone, he could even complete a journey through the Northern Ju Lu Continent or the Tong Ye Continent.

After becoming the Hidden Official, every day at the Summer Palace felt like a year. His only form of relaxation was to go to the Winter Palace and teach the children boxing.

“Then you’re truly foolish.”

A Liang shook his head and said, “Have you ever thought that if Chou Miao were to become the Hidden Official, and you were his deputy, it would be much easier, and the outcome for the Sword Qi Great Wall wouldn’t be too different. Now that the Fifth World has been opened up, the mirage north of the city, has the Eldest Sword Immortal told you the inside story?”

Chen Ping An deliberately ignored the first question and said softly, “He has. The entire mirage is a simulated Ascension Platform that has been built off and on for thousands of years. Combined with the Hidden Official’s Summer Palace and Winter Palace, it forms an ancient Three Mountains Formation. When the time comes, it will carry a batch of Sword Qi Great Wall’s sword dao seeds, break through the heavens, and go to the newest world. But there’s a big problem with that. The mirage is like a small temple that can’t accommodate great Bodhisattvas like the Upper Five Realms sword immortals. So, those who leave must be sword cultivators of the Middle Five Realms and Lower Five Realms. Besides, the Eldest Sword Immortal doesn’t trust certain sword immortals to be stationed there.”

A Liang clicked his tongue in wonder and said, “The Eldest Sword Immortal keeps things hidden so well. I didn’t even know about this, and I only guessed at a rough outline when I was wandering around in my earlier years. The Eldest Sword Immortal doesn’t mind pushing all the native sword immortals to their deaths, but the Eldest Sword Immortal has one good point, which is that he is always very tolerant of young people, and will definitely leave them a way out. The way you explain it makes sense. The newest world won’t allow any Upper Five Realm cultivators to enter for five hundred years, lest it be beaten to pieces.”
It seems no grand house is without its hidden stash of silver.

Such an earth-shattering feat of ascension, who would guard the formation when the time comes? Naturally, it would be the Old Sword Immortal himself wielding his blade.

A-Liang couldn’t help but gulp down a mouthful of wine, lamenting, “Our Old Sword Immortal is the most miserable sword cultivator. Half-dead, a useless wretch for ten thousand years, only to deliver two strikes in the end. So, while the Old Sword Immortal’s actions may be unfair, you can scold him, kid, but don’t harbor hatred.”

Chen Pingan shook his head, “I won’t hate, and I wouldn’t dare scold.”

A-Liang chuckled, “A few curses here and there, it doesn’t really matter.”

Chen Pingan said helplessly, “The Old Sword Immortal holds grudges, and I can’t run away after scolding him.”

A-Liang nodded, speaking earnestly, “Drinking and chatting, bootlicking and flattering, rubbing his shoulders and tapping his back, reminding him of his hard work whether he needs it or not, you can’t skip a single one. Furthermore, you’ve suffered such severe injuries, just limp over to the thatched hut on the city wall, enjoy the scenery. At that moment, silence speaks louder than words. Play pitiful? Do you even need to pretend? You’re already utterly miserable. If it were me, I’d borrow a straw mat from a friend and sleep right outside the Old Sword Immortal’s hut!”

Chen Pingan laughed, then drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

A-Liang sat alone on the doorstep, with no intention of leaving, slowly drinking his wine, muttering to himself, “Ultimately, the truth is simple: the child who cries gets the candy. Chen Pingan, you’ve never understood this since you were a kid, and it’s cost you dearly.”

Those who are capable are often burdened with more, and over time, others inevitably take it for granted.

The lineage of the Literary Sage.

The Old Scholar has a share of fortune and merit in the Fifth World.

His eldest disciple, Cui Chan, is stationed in Treasure Bottle洲.

Zuo You guards the Tong 叶洲 with his sword.

His closed-door disciple, Chen Pingan, has been serving as the Hidden Official in the Sword Qi Great Wall for two and a half years.

And all the sword cultivators of the Sword Qi Great Wall.

Whether strong or weak, everyone’s principles bring genuine good and bad to this precarious world.

A moment later, Chen Pingan was startled awake from his dream again, instantly sitting up, covered in sweat.

A-Liang didn’t turn his head, saying, “This won’t do. You’ll develop inner demons later on.”

Chen Pingan raised his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead, his face pale, and lay back down on the bed, closing his eyes.

A-Liang remained silent.

Still alone, drinking his wine.

Perhaps finding the doorstep uncomfortable on his rear, he changed his posture, squatting to drink.

Back in Treasure Bottle洲, the man wearing the bamboo hat tricked that mud-legged boy into drinking.

In reality, there are no carefree wine immortals who are utterly drunk; there are only drunks who have either died or are yet to die.

The swing is gone from the Sword Qi Great Wall.

A certain sword immortal no longer has to stare at a bowl of plain noodles, afraid to start eating.

The foreign sword immortal Yuan Qingshu was full of spirit when he died in battle.

Han Huaizi, the sect master of the Taihui Sword Sect of the Northern Ju Lu Continent, was silent before and after his death in battle.

An old white-haired woman stood in front of the Ning residence, muttering softly, “Old dog, old dog. Come back and guard the gate.”