Chen Ping’an sat on the steps, rolled up his trousers, took off his boots, and placed them within his miniature jade realm.

Of the other two miniature realms, the one Yan Ming had temporarily lent him had already been sent to a pill refinery to be repaired by an expert. The remaining Daoist token miniature realm, exchanged with Sun Qing, the master of the Colorful Sparrow Mansion, for an eave panel, had also earned him an extra thirty Grain Rain coins. If all merchants in the world were as forthright as the Colorful Sparrow Mansion, Chen Ping’an wouldn’t mind carrying an entire residence on his back, let alone an eave panel. Of course, it would be even better if the residence could be refined into a miniature landscape like the Spring Pennant Studio or the Plum Blossom Garden. The more, the merrier.

The miniature realm that had some connection with Sun Daoren of the Azure Glory World had been entrusted to A Liang to be passed on to the Daoist Sage.

The miniature realm Chen Ping’an currently possessed had been through the Respect Sword Pavilion. After collecting all the portraits of Sword Immortals, the eldest Sword Immortal had asked for it. When it was returned, a secret restriction had been placed upon it, preventing even Chen Ping’an, its owner, from opening it. He had no idea what the eldest Sword Immortal was up to.

Chen Ping’an walked alone along this “divine path” in name and in fact, towards the bottom of the prison, and gently rolled up his sleeves.

The human body is a small world; the world is a large human body.

This saying should not be simply regarded as a general Daoist notion.

This nameless prison, along with six fifth-realm great demons, held a total of seventy demon cultivators. Aside from the three below the fifth realm, including the youth in the water prison, most were Earth Immortals, all ferocious beings. In the Wildlands World or the Ascendant Land, they would likely be overlords of their respective territories. Without exception, they had all killed Sword Cultivators on the battlefield, and most had destroyed more than one natal flying sword.

As Chen Ping’an walked, perhaps because the old deaf man was no longer present to keep them in check, several fifth-realm great demons, who had previously been hiding in silence, emerged from the mist-shrouded cages, approaching the sword-light barriers. They assessed the young man in the green shirt, barefoot, with rolled-up sleeves, who also spoke the elegant language of the Wildlands World, in either their true forms or human guises.

One great demon, transformed into a middle-aged man with an elegant appearance like a scholar, wearing a green robe and carrying a bamboo flute at his waist, stood near a cage’s barrier. He was using an illusion technique. He lightly tapped a sword-light with his finger. His flesh and blood immediately became blurred and sizzled, emitting a strange, purely fragrant scent. He asked with a smile, “Young man, is Sword Qi Great Wall about to fall?”

Chen Ping’an stopped and met the great demon’s gaze through the sword-light barrier. He nodded and said, “For us, it’s not good news.”

According to the records of the Summer Retreating Palace, this great demon was named Yun Qing and his true form was a colorful Luan. His feathers were excellent materials for refining Daoist feather garments. Therefore, when the great demon entered the fifth realm, he naturally possessed a magical robe equivalent to a semi-immortal artifact. However, the feathers of the great demon Yun Qing grew extremely slowly. In the seven hundred years of his imprisonment, the pill refinery had only collected seven feathers, which had been gradually sold to three Daoist sects.

The great demon Yun Qing asked with a smile, “Is Yue Qing dead? Has Shou Chen reached the fifth realm?”

Chen Ping’an answered truthfully, “Yue Qing is not dead. Shou Chen is the youngest Sword Immortal in your Wildlands World.”

Yun Qing nodded, thanked him, and disappeared back into the thick mist, seemingly with a sigh.

Passing the next cage, a great demon in its true form frantically slammed against the sword-light barrier, which remained unbreakable. The mist inside the cage churned, and the great demon’s efforts were in vain, only stirring up a bloody, fleshy wind.

The Great Loach dwells in the mud, feeding on the offspring of dragons in an attempt to transform into one.

Chen Ping’an asked, “Is there a shortcut or trick for your aquatic race to transform into dragons? Like the celestial fox attaining enlightenment, as long as the Heavenly Master’s Seal is stamped on its fox pelt, it can avoid the heavenly tribulation.”

Many ghosts and specters need to travel across rivers or mountains accompanied by people blessed with Yin virtue in order to avoid the accountability of the local deities. Countless ghosts and spirits are blocked from their journeys home or elsewhere by mountains and rivers. Moreover, there are rumors of many dragon offspring who fail in their attempt to cross rivers, resorting to various methods to seek refuge, such as hiding under seals or even within the lines of a sage’s book. However, while Chen Ping’an has witnessed some of these events firsthand, many more seem like strange tales and have not been verified.

The great demon suddenly quieted down and slowly transformed into a wizened old man. “Little brat, trade a pound of fresh blood for it!”

Chen Ping’an said, “Half a pound.”

The great demon thought it was just a bit of fun, but he didn’t expect this young man to be so foolish as to bargain.

The old man gripped the sword-light barrier tightly, his eyes gleaming. He laughed loudly, “Looking at you, little brat, you’re young but your blood is not bad. Three qian of heart blood. Eight qian of blood from your five viscera, which are connected to your soul’s path. At least a pound of ordinary blood! Give it to me willingly and I’ll pass on a priceless immortal incantation. Not just for dragon descendants, but any aquatic spirit can transform into a dragon without hindrance.”

Chen Ping’an remained silent, standing still. After a moment, seeing a hint of surprise on the great demon’s face, he said, “Is that all there is to the Yelu River’s secret transmission of the opening technique? I’ve seen your master’s methods, and it’s more than just this.”

The great demon in front of him, separated only by a barrier, had already subtly cast a magical power, a very superior dragging technique for water ghosts. Spirits and demons use sight to probe the heart. If the heart stirs slightly, the five viscera will shake, the soul will be captured, and it will become a puppet. The Yelu River is an indisputably vast aquatic region in the Wildlands World, where aquatic spirits and demons hold great power.

Certain water ghosts and water spirits of the great marshes and rivers enjoy using the insidious “replacement of fate” technique, dragging people into the water to turn the world upside down, often using this method to bewitch people. Therefore, people near water, lacking Yang energy, ancestral blessings, and good luck, will often inexplicably throw themselves into the water.

The old man retracted his injured hands, the wounds healing at an extremely rapid pace. The blood mist burned by the sword light did not leak out of the cage. The old man sneered, “If not for the restrictions, smelling a trace of blood, you little brat would already be lying on the ground in a state of ecstasy.”

Chen Ping’an said, “If I weren’t a Sword Cultivator, I would already be eating a pot of loach stewed with tofu. Water ginseng is very nourishing and can also sober you up.”

The old man’s face darkened.
The great demon Qingqiu, in the desolate lands, took on a name that sounded like “green loach,” a waste of the elegant name Qingqiu.

Chen Pingan asked, “Are we doing business or not?”

The old man transformed in a flash, a fishy stench rocking the prison. The great demon revealed its true form, eyes as large as lanterns, a massive head pressed close to the sword-light bars, looking down at the insolent youth.

Chen Pingan turned to leave.

The great demon said, “We’ll do it. Grandpa’s thirsty, bring half a jin of fresh blood to quench my thirst! If it tastes good, Grandpa will take the remaining half-jin and tell you the shortcut to transforming into a dragon and avoiding disaster.”

The young man simply nodded and continued forward.

The great demon slammed its head against the bars, raging, “How dare this whelp mock your ancestor!”

Chen Pingan turned his head and said, “I’ll have Old Long’er come and take three qian of your heart’s blood later. Remember to carefully consider your words, and don’t try to deceive me. You wouldn’t even agree to half a jin of ordinary blood earlier. I don’t understand, is this how you do business?”

Chen Pingan walked away.

Old Long’er stood outside Qingqiu’s cell with a grin, accompanied by a muddled youth named You Yu, an eccentric name supposedly given by his mentor, who had casually chosen it after seeing words on a stele in an alleyway. The other youth was named Du Shanyin. These two youths, who didn’t know each other, had completely different attitudes towards the young Hidden Official. The former treated the Hidden Official with respectful distance, while the latter desperately wanted to become a great figure like the Hidden Official, dreaming of it.

When dealing with the barefoot young man, the Immortal Realm great demon Qingqiu was quite “casual,” but upon seeing Old Long’er, it immediately retreated into the misty haze.

Old Long’er glanced at the mist within the cell and nodded, saying, “So this loach has a ‘ginseng in water’ aspect, good for sobering up. Learned something new again.”

You Yu whispered, “The Hidden Official is very learned.”

Old Long’er chuckled, “And holds grudges even more. Don’t provoke those scholars in the future.”

The great demon Yang Zhi, the former master of the Ye Luo River, was Qingqiu’s master. That old woman had once brutally murdered a Southern Wandering Sword Immortal named Yue on the battlefield, putting the Hidden Official in a position where sword cultivators at Sword Qi Great Wall were criticizing him behind his back.

Therefore, the young Hidden Official was very polite to the great demon Yun Qing earlier, but when he saw this loach, one of the four great fiends of the Ye Luo River, he began to settle accounts, trying to earn a little interest if he could.

You Yu anxiously said, “Grandpa Long’er, I don’t even dare to speak when I see the Hidden Official. How could I provoke such a lofty figure? I wouldn’t dare. Besides, the Hidden Official works tirelessly for Sword Qi Great Wall. I respect him greatly. I even regret being too timid to say a word to him.”

At Sword Qi Great Wall, each young generation may have a different impression of the young Hidden Official.

For example, Jiang Yun and Yuan Zao Hua, those martial arts prodigies practicing boxing; the poor children listening to Second Shopkeeper’s tales of mountains and rivers in the alley corners; Sun Zao, the young sword cultivator who had never seen the young Hidden Official but had heard so much about him that his ears were numb; and You Yu and Du Shanyin, those young men and women who were already old enough to kill demons at the city wall.

Old Long’er said, “Fortune and misfortune come unexpectedly. There’s nothing to dare or not dare.”

You Yu nodded vigorously, “I’ll remember that.”

Old Long’er chuckled, “I wonder what the Great Sword Immortal was thinking. He should swap you with that ambitious Du Shanyin. You’d get along well with that drunkard, and maybe your fortunes would be much greater in the future.”

The youth’s expression dimmed. His talent and temperament were too poor. He must have disappointed Senior Long’er.

Chen Pingan continued walking, stopping now and then, as if sightseeing.

The seven-tailed fox demon used all its tricks. As the young Hidden Official passed, it transformed into several different forms in a short period of time, using its original appearance and illusions: a voluptuous woman with a hint of exposed flesh, a fair young maiden with light rouge, a charming little nun, and a woman with the air of a cold female Taoist. In the end, even its gender became ambiguous, transforming into a handsome young man. Seeing that the young man simply kept walking, it simply took off its clothes, revealing its naked body, beautiful as jade, and knelt near the sword-light bars, sobbing, seeking his favor.

Chen Pingan ignored it, his heart as still as water, contemplating a skeleton.

The fox demon didn’t give up. When the stony-hearted young man turned to face the cage, it lunged forward, hands on the ground, its voice soft and pleading. Its spine arched, like rolling mountains.

Chen Pingan walked straight away.

He arrived at the fourth-to-last prison, a Dragon Gate Realm cultivator skilled at concealing its aura. Its trump cards were two natal treasures capable of binding flying swords. It was a ruthless character who enjoyed torturing sword cultivators on the battlefield.

In fact, Chen Pingan didn’t have strong feelings about such actions. Several sword immortals at Sword Qi Great Wall, as well as Nalan Caihuan and Qi Shou, were all known for their ruthlessness. However, according to the Hidden Official lineage’s records, this Dragon Gate Realm cultivator, from a major sect in the desolate lands, was known for its cruelty even among the demons in its homeland. It was especially fond of purchasing “mixed-blood” slaves from the desolate lands, regarded as “mongrels,” and had even purchased several female sword cultivator prisoners from Great Demon Chongguang’s territory. The outcome was imaginable.

Chen Pingan softly said, “Senior Nianxin, please open the door.”

Chen Pingan knew the secret techniques to the prison’s restrictions but couldn’t break them.

The female tailor appeared, and the sword-light bars vanished instantly.

Chen Pingan walked forward and found that she didn’t intend to leave. Chen Pingan stood at the doorway, his back to the miserable woman, and was about to speak.

Nianxin said, “Is the Hidden Official overestimating himself? Or is he afraid of losing face and doesn’t want outsiders to see a Confucian disciple’s cruel methods? There’s no need for that.”

Chen Pingan nodded and rolled up his sleeves another layer.

About an incense stick later.

Nianxin looked at the figure squatting on the ground.

Only the head of the Dragon Gate Realm demon remained intact. Below the neck, the rest was a pool of minced meat, but not dead, its flesh, sinews, bones, and soul being gradually processed with practiced skill.

It seemed the young Hidden Official had suffered much in his martial arts training, becoming an expert through long experience.

Even the Dragon Gate Realm demon, whose body and mind were tough enough, was begging, “Kill me, kill me!”

Chen Pingan merely gouged out one of the demon’s eyeballs, gently crushed it, wiped his fingers on its forehead, and asked, “Are the humanoid forms this demon transforms into subtly different?”
Nianxin nodded, “It’s not just the transformation of the demon race that differs; even among us, who study the Daoist arts of the world, we share the same origin but diverge into countless branches. Only those arts that can be hailed as ‘orthodox and all-encompassing’ can minimize the influence of detours and divergent paths. Lesser are the unorthodox and heretical paths, and least are the demonic paths. All can ascend the mountain, but with varying degrees of difficulty and superiority. The more orthodox the path, the more accurately it grasps the meridians of the human body’s blessed grotto-heaven, minimizing detours. The reason is simple: the road is wide, the spiritual Qi flows abundantly, and the traffic is heavy, like an army marching with great momentum. If it’s a narrow, rugged path, the circulation of spiritual Qi will ultimately be limited. However, there are always exceptions. Those with extraordinary talent are not bound by this principle, and they can still reach the summit even on a small path.”

Chen Pingan extended a finger and pressed it against the demon’s forehead, between the eyebrows, gently slicing downward, as if a knife were cutting through. Then, he gently peeled back the skin.

Nianxin watched his movements, which were slow, steady, and, most importantly, his state of mind was devoid of any ripples – no resentment, no sorrow, no joy. He was simply a perfect candidate for both a tailor and an executioner.

Among the ten types of cultivators listed in the Vastness, the executioner and the tailor shared many similarities.

Nianxin reminded him, “Killing a Dragon Gate realm cultivator with such a weak physique is not worthy of my handiwork as a tailor.”

Chen Pingan nodded, “I know. I’m just warming up because I plan to learn the tailoring art from Senior Nianxin.”

Nianxin shook her head, “I advise Lord Hidden Official not to easily delve into this path. It will only incur the hatred of heaven and earth and hinder your great Dao. Becoming a God as a martial artist or ascending to heaven as a swordsman is the righteous path for a Hidden Official to take.”

Chen Pingan thrust a finger into the demon cultivator’s forehead, stood up slowly, and said, “Techniques have no taboos; a firm heart is all that’s needed. ‘Evil people have their own evil people to grind them down,’ and ‘evil people only have their own evil people to grind them down.’ One word makes all the difference. The former is too helpless, the latter too absolute. I don’t think either is quite right.”

Nianxin was silent.

Chen Pingan walked out of the prison cell and headed to the next cage.

According to the Summer Palace’s records, he was simply throwing punches as he pleased.

The techniques differed, but the only constant was that he would first announce his name.

“Chen Pingan, from the Vastness.”

Nianxin followed the young man from beginning to end, observing the entire process.

When the Earth Immortal demon cultivators were killed, Nianxin would open the embroidered pouch hanging from her waist and take out different fine needles and short knives to process the corpses. The young Hidden Official would stand by and watch.

Nianxin’s out-of-body Yin Spirit was extremely strange. It was as small as a mustard seed, almost invisible, and it held an even smaller natal object – an “embroidery needle.”

When facing a Golden Core stage military strategist demon, Chen Pingan allowed the opponent to attack with full force, without retaliating.

When confronting a Golden Core swordsman, Nianxin was surprised to find that the young Hidden Official had vanished into thin air, seemingly isolating himself in a small world.

After removing the natal divine ability of the flying sword, Chen Pingan asked while watching Nianxin process the corpse, “Senior Nianxin, of the ten types of Qi refiners, including tailors, how many have you personally witnessed?”

Nianxin’s hands didn’t stop; she skillfully selected tendons and marrow, extracting sinews and breaking bones with fluid movements, though not exactly pleasing to the eye.

Nianxin told the young Hidden Official some secrets that were not recorded in the Summer Palace’s texts: those South Sea lone riders who carried dragon baskets to capture exhausted dragons and steal water fortune served a monarch who had fought with the great Celestial Master Huolong Zhenren. Even Huolong Zhenren, who was slightly stronger, couldn’t break the ancient landscape formation called “Lushui Pit” beneath the sea after ten years of trying. It was rumored that the ruins were once one of the main palaces of an ancient water god.

Upon hearing this, Chen Pingan said, “Huolong Zhenren is indeed a true and worthy hermit of the world.”

Nianxin didn’t raise her head and casually asked, “Has Lord Hidden Official met Huolong Zhenren?”

She was “sculpting” the heart that was imprisoned, which the young Hidden Official had cut open from the chest, and the demon’s Golden Core, which was suspended next to it.

Her tiny Yin Spirit was threading a needle.

Chen Pingan hummed in acknowledgement.

Nianxin raised her head and stopped her actions, “Huolong Zhenren is the one who killed my master.”

Chen Pingan didn’t respond, “Please continue, Senior. I am not interested in the past grievances of the Vastness.”

Nianxin’s gaze remained fixed on Chen Pingan, her eyes becoming increasingly intense.

Chen Pingan resigned himself to his fate. Of course, he couldn’t only demand retribution from the great demon Qingqiu; he also had to allow Nianxin to settle her score with him.

Nianxin continued to talk about strange matters.

Perhaps it was because she had been imprisoned for hundreds of years and rarely encountered a living person, this tailor was not stingy with words.

Those who refined tombs and ancient graves, causing the passage of Yin soldiers known as “passersby,” could, if they were of high realm, change heaven and earth with a single, desperate opening of their natal banner, transforming thousands of miles into a realm of Yin and Nether.

Then there were the corpse sirens, whose bewitching arts surpassed even those of fox demons, half-human and half-ghost, undetectable even by immortals, and who especially liked to defile imperial palaces. However, corpse sirens rarely appeared, but every time their whereabouts were exposed, they were destined to leave many deeds in history books.

There were also the flower thieves on the mountains, who specialized in capturing spirits of herbs, flowers, and plants and refining them into pills. Twelve flowers were refined into small pills. If they captured one hundred and eight flower and plant spirits, they would refine them into large pills. Their methods were extremely vicious, but the effects were astonishing. They were mortal enemies of the Hundred Flower Paradise. Legend had it that the founder of the flower thieves had a hidden love affair with the Lord of Flowers of the Hundred Flower Paradise. Many seemingly virtuous pedigree immortals nominally eradicated them, but in reality, they took them in as offerings, opening up a wide source of wealth and making money hand over fist.

Upon hearing this, Chen Pingan curiously asked, “Do the goddesses of the Hundred Flower Paradise truly have ancient flower spirits mixed among them?”

He thought of the Celestial Official goddesses of the Bone Beach mural city.

Nianxin nodded, “I once caught a Yuan Ying realm flower thief and took him to the Hundred Flower Paradise in exchange for a key magic treasure. It can be confirmed that the four Fate-Bound Flower Gods are indeed of ancient age, while the Lord of Flowers of the Paradise is a latecomer.”

Speaking of this, Nianxin glanced at the young man, “Thanks to the passing-down poems of the scholars.”

Chen Pingan smiled, “Reciting poetry and writing articles have always been things I’m not good at. It seems I’m destined to have no connection with the Hundred Flower Paradise.”

Nianxin said something inappropriate, “Are you sure you can return alive to the Vastness?”

Chen Pingan said, “I’ll try.”
Nian Xin continued to speak of that Plague God. Truthfully, they were not purely good or evil, but rather pitiable wretches, detested by gods and men alike. Suppressed by the Grand Dao, almost none could control their own destinies. Either they were imprisoned by righteous cultivators, forever cut off from the world, or they were raised from a young age by heretical cultivators as puppets and henchmen. On a small scale, they would threaten imperial courts and serve as money-making trees. Once thrown onto the battlefield, their killing power was immense, with endless dire consequences. Plagues would spread, life would be extinguished, and within a hundred years, not a blade of grass would grow, leaving behind only miasma.

Then there were the Cuckoo Immortals, who, as their name suggested, excelled at seizing nests. Any cultivator in the world could be used as their cuckoo’s nest. They would plant their mustard-seed thoughts and seeds in the heart orifices of others, without anyone being aware. There were also Ferrymen, who dared to travel between the land of the living and the netherworld, shrouded in the utmost secrecy. And the Debt-Collecting Ghosts, who specifically targeted the foolish and imbecilic in cities, villages, and hamlets, were capable of transferring karmic burdens onto their enemies, secretly collecting the incense offerings from families and temples. Finally, there were the Mirror Sellers, wandering the lands, capturing and refining the shadows of ordinary mortals, arbitrarily confining souls, determining fates, and diminishing blessings for their own benefit.

Regarding the Mirror Sellers, Nian Xin also recounted a tale, whether true or false, of a Mirror Seller in the history of the Great Wide World who possessed extraordinary talent and attempted to refine the luminous moon into a cosmetic mirror.

Once successful, the entire world, whether ordinary mortals or cultivators, would be forced to look up to the “mirror surface,” and the consequences were unimaginable.

After listening to these strange and bizarre inner workings of the mountains, Chen Pingan softly sighed, “Those who have attained the Dao have long lives. As long as they are willing to travel around, shrinking mountains and rivers, they will always encounter endless wonders and strange occurrences.”

During their conversation, Chen Pingan also witnessed Nian Xin’s natal object, which was the ten embroidery needles held by her Yin spirit. Extremely fine, seven-colored light trailed from the eye of each needle, precisely targeting the three souls and seven spirits.

After finishing her work, Nian Xin withdrew her Yin spirit and returned to her body. She stood up and said, “I’ve roughly calculated it. Sixty-odd demonkin. If you can kill them all, I can mend thirty-two places for you. You are a pure martial artist, so your palm lines, the back of your hand, and all your fingers will require significant changes. Your facial orifices, with your eyes as the focus, and your heart, of course, are the main priorities. I will pierce through them with needle and thread, thoroughly twisting your heart. It may take a while. Your back, primarily the spine, will be skinned, and I will need to pull the entire spine out to about an inch in height. These are still relatively easy. The three souls and seven spirits are the key. And after the mending and stitching is complete, that’s when the true suffering begins.”

Chen Pingan remained expressionless.

Nian Xin nodded, young in age, but not lacking in courage.

Then, the young Hidden Official picked up his Sword Nurturing Gourd and took a large gulp of wine.