The man’s spirit, that innate essence, was strikingly similar, as if they were cast from the same mold.

However, the choice of fist techniques and stances differed. Pei Qian’s punches were relentless, unwavering, a continuous onslaught.

Chen Ping’an, as Pei Qian’s master, was far more circumspect. He rarely sought unrestrained combat. His techniques were manifold, ever-changing, adapting to circumstance, person, and place, bordering on meticulous. Each punch was a foundation, a calculation, striving for maximum advantage. Pei Qian, in stark contrast, possessed a heroic aura, as if, at her tender age, she already grasped the concept of “Heaven and earth hold no equal, the only question lies within oneself.”

Xie Songhua, a sword immortal fond of distant travels, had interacted with warriors of the Flowing Sunset Isle and Golden Armor Isle, some even close friends. Two of these were peak realm martial artists, vastly different in both style and temperament, yet united in their reverence for the profound state of “Heaven and Earth, a thousand ages, one man, two fists.” This grand principle was easily stated and readily understood, but to truly embody it, to manifest this Great Dao through one’s martial prowess, was exceedingly difficult.

Yet, Xie Songhua pondered, given their infrequent encounters at home, how had Pei Qian developed such deep respect for her master?

Her own two disciples, Ju Xing and Zhao Mu, were, of course, sensible and grateful. They regarded her as their pillar of support, akin to a cherished elder. Xie Songhua was content, finding no fault in them. But compared to Chen Ping’an’s influence on Pei Qian, something felt different.

Though the martial world held the adage “Choosing a master is like being reborn, the relationship like father and child,” in Pei Qian’s eyes, Chen Ping’an seemed to have transcended mere master, becoming a fusion of heaven, earth, sovereign, parents, and teacher all in one.

“It seems the Young Hidden Official truly has a knack for raising children,” Xie Songhua could only conclude.

Pei A’xiang, who had been observing the sparring match intently, clucked her tongue, “To spar in such a way will bring no small benefit. Even Sui Yu might gain unexpected insights.”

Liu Youzhou muttered, “The origin of that bamboo flute, A’xiang, you still haven’t explained. I, a junior, feel embarrassed to offer that tribute money, and you, a senior, to accept it?”

Pei A’xiang chuckled, “There’s nothing that can’t be said, but keep it to yourself.”

Liu Youzhou nodded.

It turned out that years ago, in the picturesque Bamboo Sea Grotto-Heaven, Pei A’xiang, as the youngest ninth-realm martial artist in the history of Snowy White Continent, was at the height of her vigor. As a guest at the Azure God Mountain Feast, she and several friends, after indulging in wine, wandered the landscape and clashed with a disheveled man surreptitiously digging up bamboo shoots. Never had she seen such a shameless individual. Initially, he claimed to be the Azure God Mountain Land God, harvesting bamboo shoots to entertain the esteemed guests. When exposed, he brazenly declared himself a guest of honor at the Azure God Mountain Lady’s private banquet, claiming that digging up a few bamboo shoots was nothing. A young sword immortal immediately sent a flying sword message to the Azure Mountain God. The man, with remarkable audacity, leaned against a bamboo stalk, arms crossed, declaring, “You’ve provoked me; consider yourselves cursed. If you ever set foot in the Bamboo Sea Grotto-Heaven again, I’ll take your surname!”

Then, a reply came from the Mountain God’s manor, stating that the Lady did not recognize the man. Thus, Pei A’xiang and her companions chased the scoundrel like hounds. Initially, no one took it too seriously, treating it as mere amusement. However, when a sword cultivator’s strike went a little too far, the man exclaimed, “One punch for each little brother!” and defeated them all. Not only that, but the man buried them all in the ground, claiming that many jade-pure sword immortals and mountain-peak martial artists would sprout from them, a gift in return to Azure God Mountain.

As he buried Pei A’xiang, he asked her what she thought of his fist techniques.

Anyone attempting to break free from the earth was immediately knocked unconscious with a single punch. With only their necks above ground, they resembled bamboo shoots emerging after a rain.

Pei A’xiang dared not move, lest she invite further humiliation.

The young sword immortal from before was buried deepest because, as the man shoveled dirt, he muttered complaints, “It’s always you sword immortals who are the most numerous and the most amorous, so annoying. Now you’ve fallen into my hands…”

Later, a messenger from the Bamboo Sea Grotto-Heaven Mountain God’s manor appeared, rescuing everyone.

The man, who had been squatting on the ground, his rear in the air, busily packing dirt around Pei A’xiang, sprang to his feet with lightning speed upon seeing the messenger…