Venerable Sun suddenly burst into hearty laughter, “Well, well! So Liu Qi and Cao Zu have arrived too. They don’t come alone, they come in pairs! Zhanran, go and bring those two gentlemen here. Bai Xian and Su Zi, they certainly command great respect! My Xuandu Temple… how shall I put it, Yan Da-ye?”

Yan Zhuo replied, “Three years without a customer, one customer feeds you for three years!”

The female Daoist Chunhui accepted the order and was about to take her leave when Dong Huafu suddenly said, “The old Daoist Master personally went out to greet the old scholar Su, but he’s sending Sister Zhanran to greet Liu and Cao. Scholars are prone to overthinking; they enter with smiles but leave cursing.”

Venerable Sun stroked his beard, pondering. He felt there was some truth in what Dong Heitan had said. “Headache, truly a headache. My legs are feeling weak right now, I can’t walk.”

Chunhui hesitated. Since Liu and Cao were able to ascend and travel to the Azure Firmament World together from the Great Balance World, their cultivation and reputation were certainly worthy of the Xuandu Temple’s respect.

According to Dong Heitan, if the Patriarch showed favoritism, it would indeed be inappropriate. In the past, the Daoist Master would have simply feigned absence, leaving his disciples to deal with the trouble. But with Su Zi present today, the Daoist Master seemed to be in a rather awkward position.

At that moment, outside the Xuandu Temple gate, stood a handsome young man in white robes, a sprig of willow hanging from his waist. With immortal arts, he had inscribed countless poems and lyrics onto the slender willow branch.

It was none other than Liu Qi, whose reputation rivaled that of the Dragon Tiger Mountain Celestial Master in the Great Balance World.

Wherever demons and monsters caused trouble, there would be a peach wood sword; wherever there was well water, there would be the chanting of Liu Qi’s poems.

In the fifth year of Emperor Renzong’s reign, Liu Qi of the Great Balance World, his poetry soaring, bid farewell and departed, singing softly and fading into obscurity.

A flower-lover amidst crimson and emerald, Liu Qi, the white-robed chancellor.

Beside Liu Qi stood a man in black robes, his face showing the maturity of his thirties, tall and elegant, equally dashing. He carried a paper umbrella slung across his back.

Cao Zu, courtesy name Yuan Chong.

He was also a favorite among many women, both high and low, in the Great Balance World.

In the Great Balance World, lyrics were always considered a minor path compared to poetry, simply put, a leftover of poetry, difficult to ascend to the hall of elegance. As for tunes, they were even lower. So, when Liu Qi and Cao Zu arrived in the Azure Firmament World, they simply named the blessed land they had inadvertently discovered “Lyric Remnant Blessed Land,” partly as self-deprecation, partly as a release of pent-up feelings. This secret realm, also known as Tune Blessed Land, was uninhabited from the beginning. The vast blessed land had been revealed for many years, but although it had not entered the ranks of the seventy-two blessed lands, its mountains and rivers were picturesque, a natural middle-grade blessed land. However, few cultivators had settled there to this day. Liu and Cao seemed to treat the entire blessed land as a secluded villa, a rather amusing tale among immortals. Their direct female disciple was able to ascend to the Jade Purity Realm directly from the Retaining People Realm, not only because of their teachings, but also because of her innate good fortune.

The Xuandu Temple was unusually quiet today, without even a gatekeeper, leaving the two guests who had traveled from afar standing on the street outside the gate.

The young man in white smiled and said, “Yuan Chong, do you think the old Daoist Master will show his face today? Or… is he feeling unwell and pretending to be sick?”

There were nearly nine hundred tune patterns in the world, and the young man in white had created more than one hundred and forty of them, paving the way for countless lyricists of later generations. In this regard, even Su Zi could not compare with him.

The man in black joked, “Whether he sees us or not, I’m going to express my concern for the old Daoist Master anyway.”

To Cao Zu, Liu Qi in white robes was both a teacher and a friend. Their relationship was similar to that of Bai Ye and Liu Sixteen visiting immortals in the mountains in the past.

The Xuandu Temple Patriarch Sun Huai Zhong had traveled to the Great Balance World twice. Once he eventually lent his sword to Bai Ye, and another time he was bored in the Azure Firmament World and simply went on a trip, and also to personally settle an old score in the Northern Reed Continent. During his travels, the old Daoist Master’s admiration for the Mei Shan scholar Su Zi was heartfelt, but his impression of the two lyricists from the Great Balance World was, in fact, quite ordinary, very ordinary. So, even though Liu Qi and Cao Zu had lived in his world for many years, Venerable Sun had not “gone to disturb their quiet cultivation.” Otherwise, if it had been Su Zi, the old Daoist Master would have visited the Tune Blessed Land more than a dozen times, even if Su Zi had closed his doors to guests. In fact, the old Daoist Master had been quite dismissive of Liu Qi and Cao Zu during his travels in the Great Balance World. Mincing and twisting, rolling in rouge, what white-robed chancellor Liu Qi, what human boudoirs everywhere with Cao Yuan Chong, the old Daoist Master was most annoyed by these things.

Despite his usually “approachable” words, Venerable Sun had once uttered some elegant and harsh words, saying that in the land of literature, poetry was the first-class wealthy household, lyrics had fallen to the middle class, still a well-off family, and tunes had completely become the poorest of the poor. Fortunately, lyrics had Su Zi, vast and upright, a wonder of heaven and earth, with immortal air and divine spirit, directly chasing after Bai Ye. As for those like Qi Lang and Yuan Chong, they were merely bowing to grind ink for Bai Xian and bending over to pour wine for Su Zi, descendants of the great path.

Once such harsh words were spoken, they could not be taken back, so how could Venerable Sun go and greet Liu and Cao? It was truly making the old Daoist Master feel unusually embarrassed. In the past, Venerable Sun thought that the two sides would never interact, but who would have thought that Bai Ye would come to the temple first, Su Zi would come as a guest, and Liu and Cao would follow suit to settle accounts after the autumn harvest?

Dong Huafu gave a wink to Yan the Fatty.

Yan Zhuo immediately tried to make amends, saying to the old Daoist Master, “When Chen Ping An was engraving seals for people and inscribing fan surfaces, he happened to mention the lyrics of the two gentlemen Liu and Cao to me, saying that Liu Qi’s lyrics were not as high as Mei Shan’s, but could be praised as the ‘source of the lyrical vein,’ and should not be casually regarded as drunken words amid crimson and emerald. Mr. Liu has put in a lot of effort, sincerely wishing that lovers in the world will eventually be together, and that the world will be full of flowers and the moon will be round, and people will live long, so the meaning is extremely beautiful. Yuan Chong’s lyrics are unique, beautiful but not vulgar, and the greatest effort is no longer in carving words, but in using deep emotions, both with the elegance and grace of a noble lady and the loveliness and closeness of a girl from a humble family. Among them, the phrase ‘the sound of crickets frightens a garden of flower shadows’ is truly imaginative, thinking of what predecessors have not thought of, fresh and timeless, and touching, and should be praised as the ‘flower bush in lyrics.'”

The old Daoist Master stroked his beard and smiled, nodding gently, “Good, good, the source of lyrics and the flower bush, two sayings, wonderfully indescribable, deeply in line with my heart. Daoist Chen’s insightful remarks are indeed in agreement with mine, in agreement, ah!”
The old Daoist priest quickly coughed a few times and changed his tune, saying, “To be honest, these words were actually inspired during my travels with Daoist Chen in the Northern Entirety Continent. We journeyed together, and our meeting was truly love at first sight. During our discussions over wine, I was the first to express these sentiments. I never expected the Hidden Official to borrow them for the Great Wall of Sword Qi. That Daoist Chen is truly thorough; he leaves nothing untouched wherever he goes. Fine, fine, I won’t quibble over such trifles with him. Who speaks them doesn’t matter; being petty would only harm our Daoist friendship.”

Dong Huafu rolled his eyes.

Chunhui asked, “Master, what’s the plan?”

Should she be the one to entertain the guests, Liu and Cao, or should the old priest go out to greet them himself?

The old Daoist priest glared and said, “Zhanran, what are you waiting for? Hurry and come with me to welcome the two masters of poetry, Liu and Cao. Is it the way of our Daoist temple to neglect honored guests? Who taught you that? Your master, right? Have him use his signature hairpin calligraphy to transcribe the *Yellow Court Scripture* a hundred times, and then have him personally deliver it to the Year-End Palace. We accidentally lost a stone inkstone at our temple; we must offer some compensation.”

Chunhui unhesitatingly agreed on behalf of her master, knowing that the effort would fall on his shoulders, not hers.

The old Daoist priest, now confident and without a trace of his previous hesitation, moved with the wind beneath his feet, using a Shrinking Earth technique to take Chunhui outside the gate. He greeted the two masters of poetry with heartfelt words, not a single syllable out of place. Liu Qi, dressed in white, smiled without speaking, and Cao Zu couldn’t help but chuckle.

The White Immortal of Heavenly Waters would certainly not say such things, and Su Zi of Meishan had already met the two in the Blessed Land of Poetry, exchanging poems and songs. Su Zi played the flute, drank wine, and returned under the moonlight. It was unlikely they would have said such a thing either. Could it be that they had “misunderstood” Sun Daoist?

Beside the pond at the thatched cottage, Su Zi found the previous comment quite interesting and asked with a smile, “White Immortal, do you know who this Chen Ping’an is?”

Since the old Daoist priest referred to him as “Daoist Chen,” could he be a reclusive master from the homeland of the Vastness?

Bai also habitually adjusted his hat and said, “He is the closed-door disciple of that old scholar’s lineage, very young and quite a good person. Although I haven’t met Chen Ping’an, the old scholar never stopped mentioning him in the Fifth Heaven.”

Su Zi nodded. “Then, after I return home this time, I must go and meet this young man.”

Bai also shook his head and said, “Unless something unexpected happens, he is still at the Great Wall of Sword Qi. It won’t be easy for Su Zi to meet him.”

Su Zi frowned slightly, puzzled. “Are there still people defending the Great Wall of Sword Qi? Didn’t those sword cultivators ascend to a new world with the entire city?”

Bai also nodded. “Only Chen Ping’an remains, serving as the Hidden Official of the Great Wall of Sword Qi. He has stayed there all these years.”

Su Zi smiled. “A young outsider serving as the Hidden Official in the notoriously xenophobic Great Wall of Sword Qi? The identity of a closed-door disciple of the Literary Sage’s lineage alone shouldn’t be enough to accomplish that.”

Dong Huafu casually said, “Chen Ping’an treasures a Little Heat Coin, which he is particularly fond of. The seal script seems to say ‘Su Zi’s poems are like paintings’? Chen Ping’an swore that he would use it as a family heirloom.”

Bai also sighed. Certain customs of the old scholar’s lineage, like their unique way of speaking, were perfectly embodied by his closed-door disciple Chen Ping’an, and he even surpassed his master without being stiff.

Su Zi was slightly surprised. He didn’t expect such a thing. In fact, his relationship with the Literary Sage’s lineage was unremarkable, with few interactions. He himself didn’t mind certain things, but many of his students and disciples harbored resentment because the Embroidered Tiger had omitted their master when evaluating the calligraphers of the world. The Embroidered Tiger happened to be exceptional in both running and cursive scripts. So, over time, it became like that poetry competition between the White Immortal and Su Zi, leaving the Meishan Su Zi feeling rather helpless. Therefore, Su Zi truly didn’t expect that among the direct disciples of the Literary Sage’s lineage, there would be someone who genuinely admired his poetry.

Yan Pangzi secretly gave Dong Huafu a thumbs up. This Dong Heitan never spoke a single word of nonsense, only making insightful remarks.

Bai also asked in a whisper, “Is Su Zi returning home with Liu and Cao?”

Su Zi nodded. “We three have this intention. In peaceful times, thousands of poems and songs are just icing on the cake. In these chaotic times, we juniors should learn from White Immortal and agreed to go to Soaring Clouds Continent together.”

Speaking of “juniors,” the Meishan Su Zi, with his large beard, green shirt, bamboo staff, and straw sandals, looked at the child in the tiger-head hat beside him, unable to hide his amusement.

Bai also nodded and said, “A little bit of righteousness, a thousand miles of pleasant wind. Su Zi’s return home is indeed a fine piece of writing.”

After Liu Qi and Cao Zu appeared, they immediately bowed respectfully to Bai also. The image of a child in a tiger-head hat didn’t diminish their respect for the White Immortal.

Bai also returned the salute. In Bai also’s mind, Liu Qi and Cao Zu were far inferior to Su Zi in the realm of poetry.

In fact, Cao Zu held Bai also in extremely high regard, almost to an unparalleled degree. Cao Zu even specially engraved a personal book collection seal with the four characters “White Immortal’s Poetry,” and solemnly stamped it on the title page of his poetry collection.

Therefore, it was hard to imagine Cao Zu being so reserved just from seeing someone, even unable to completely hide his shyness. Cao Zu looked at the poetry immortal Bai also, whom he admired so much, and even blushed, hesitating to speak several times, which made Yan Pangzi and Dong Heitan feel puzzled. Seeing Bai Immortal, was this guy so emotionally stirred?

Therefore, a scholar like Bai also was free and unrestrained wherever he went. Whether Bai also met ancient people, sages, ancient sages, later generations meeting him, Bai also was still the one and only White Immortal.

Sun Daoist looked at the four and said with emotion, “Today, this peach blossom gathering at the Great Profound Capital Temple, with the White Immortal and Su Zi, Liu’s words of origin and Cao’s floral abundance, all four gathered here, is no less than the gathering of the four immortal swords, completely surpassing it. It is a great blessing for the Daoist temple and even more so for the people of the world. If I don’t use rubbings to leave behind this eternally elegant painting for future generations, I would simply be a sinner for all time…”

Bai also turned his head to look, and the old Daoist immediately laughed and said, “Old Brother Bai, just set your heart at ease. It will still be White also of Vastness at the Fourteenth Realm. No need for Old Brother Bai to say more, I am most experienced in handling matters. And I will definitely wait until more than a hundred years later for the Great Profound Capital Temple to tell outsiders about this matter.”

The bearded Su Zi, Liu Qi, and Cao Zu almost simultaneously reminded the old Daoist priest in a whisper: “One for each.”
The old Daoist priest grumbled to them, “Am I a fool? How could I make such a blunder?”

晏琢, however, communicated with Dong Huafu telepathically, “If Chen Ping’an were here…”

Dong Huafu pondered for a moment and replied, “Flattery is the key, but it must be sincere. Master Bai’s poems, Liu Qi’s lyrics, Cao Zu’s paintings, Su Shi’s calligraphy, and the old Daoist priest’s seal – none of them could escape.”

Yang’s Apothecary.

Li Liu left the Green Bell Mistress of Lushui Pit at sea, allowing this ascended demon to continue guarding the sea bridge connecting the two continents. Li Liu, on the other hand, returned alone to his hometown and sought out Old Man Yang.

The old man was puffing heavily on his dry tobacco pipe, his brow deeply furrowed. His ancient face was a tapestry of wrinkles, seemingly holding countless untold stories, with no intention of sharing even a sliver.

Misty clouds swirled around the entire apothecary, obscuring it even from the current Cui Chan’s prying eyes.

Li Liu inquired, “Did Madam Gui visit here?”

Old Man Yang nodded.

Madam Gui of Old Dragon City was an old friend from the Moon Palace. She differed from those reincarnated deities. As a pure Moon Palace descendant, spared by the plea of the Sage of Rites, her unique status didn’t lead to the same confinement as the ancient gods of True Martial Mountain by the Central Earth Military School. Thus, for millennia, Madam Gui had remained a detached observer of the world’s ups and downs, untouched by its fortunes or misfortunes. However, during Madam Gui’s last visit, she was accompanied by an old boatman, a nameless disciple of Lu Shen. He seemed to have encountered a blue-robed scholar named Bai Mang in the Da Li capital and inexplicably suffered a thorough beating. The old boatman likely recognized the opponent’s true identity, but he didn’t hold back his insults, unafraid of retaliation, daring them to kill him if they had the skill. Moreover, the old boatman remained committed to his famed principle: only talk, never fight; losing if he did.

Li Liu then asked, “What about her?”

Old Man Yang replied, “Ruan Xiu is different from you. Her presence or absence makes no difference.”

Li Liu shifted the topic, “You seem to have never left this place. Will you make an exception for Li Huai? To at least see him one last time?”

His younger brother, Li Huai, and Li Liu’s mother were both mortals. While the latter caused the old man headaches, the former was his beloved. So, all sorts of ethereal blessings and fortuitous encounters were bestowed upon Li Huai – the old man even joked about giving him his own coffin lid. Old Man Yang treated Li Huai as his own grandson, knowing his end was near. Beyond Li Er, Zheng Dafeng, and his newly accepted disciples Su Dian and Shi Lingshan, even including his previous disciples, like the Cao and Yuan family ancestors who became ministers during Da Li’s restoration, and even Ruan Xiu, Li Liu, and Ma Kuxuan – none could compare to Li Huai. Because Li Huai was not involved in the machinations, Old Man Yang bestowed opportunities and blessings without reservation. Some are born with good fortune, while others are not. It has always been this way, and it will continue to be so for thousands of years to come.

Old Man Yang shook his head, saying, “There’s nothing much to say. Everything that needed to be said has already been said.”

Despite these words, Li Liu could clearly sense the old man’s sorrow. It was like an ordinary old man from a humble family regretting that he wouldn’t witness his grandson’s success. However, the old man maintained his composure, unwilling to say more.

Li Liu sat on a long bench outside the wing room, wanting to spend as much time as possible with the old man.

Old Man Yang chuckled, “You finally have some semblance of humanity.”

Li Liu intertwined his fingers and gazed up at the sky.

On the ancestral mountain of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect, Sect Master Ruan Qiong personally prepared a large feast today. His daughter, Ruan Xiu, and disciples Dong Gu, Xu Xiaoqiao, Xie Ling, and Liu Xianyang were all present.

Since the sect had established its mountain peaks and cave abodes on the old mountain range, such gatherings had become rare.

Liu Xianyang diligently served dishes to his Master Ruan while turning to Ruan Xiu and smiling, “Miss Xiu, food is paramount.”

Ruan Xiu gave a faint smile and started eating at a steady pace.

Dong Gu and the others actually admired Liu Xianyang, their “junior brother” on the landscape register. He dared to say anything and do anything in front of their master, even joking about Ruan Qiong with the woman who sold wine in the town. Dong Gu and Xu Xiaoqiao wouldn’t dare to be so presumptuous even if their lives depended on it. In truth, based on the order of entering the sect, Liu Xianyang, who had been temporarily taken in by the Confucian Chen family of South Continent, should have been their senior brother. However, the lazy Liu Xianyang genuinely didn’t care about such matters, so they didn’t dwell on it either.

This Liu Xianyang single-handedly guarded the blacksmith shop outside the mountain. He was truly idle. Aside from dozing in a bamboo chair under the eaves, he often squatted by the Dragon Beard River, carrying a large pocket of tree leaves, dropping them one by one into the water, watching the small leaf boats drift away. He would often stand alone on the bank, first practicing a vigorous set of turtle-style punches, then shouting loudly, stomping his feet, and uttering phrases like “A thunderclap beneath the feet, a rainstorm crossing the river,” pretending to pinch a sword gesture with one hand and hold his wrist with the other, solemnly murmuring a few lines like “Hurry, hurry, as the statutes command,” making each leaf floating on the water stand upright, and reciting pretentious lines from books, such as “A single leaf flies, the waves are subtle.”

After eating on the mountain, Liu Xianyang walked down the mountain, burping all the way. By the time he returned to the shop by the river, it was already night. As he passed through the town, he heard the sound of the night watchman’s clapper. One night had five watches, and Liu Xianyang heard the first watch, the Xu hour.

The night watchman patrolled the night, reminding people to work at sunrise and rest at sunset. Actually, the small town in the Lvzhu Paradise didn’t have this custom before.

He then saw a friend sitting on a bamboo chair, drinking wine. It was Cao Gengxin, the kiln supervisor from Chier Street in the Da Li capital, considered the highest-ranking official among Liu Xianyang’s acquaintances.

Liu Xianyang trotted over excitedly. Supervisor Cao bent down, picked up a wine pot placed beside his foot – it was intended for Liu Xianyang – tossed it gently, and laughed, “If you had appeared fifteen minutes later, I would have left without saying goodbye.”

Liu Xianyang caught the wine, sat down beside him, and chuckled, “Promoted?”

Cao Gengxin nodded, vigorously rubbing his cheeks, and said helplessly, “I suppose so. I’m still stuck being neighbors with someone surnamed Yuan. The thought of that emotionless, unmoving face of his since childhood makes me anxious.”
Over the years, Supervisor Cao remained Supervisor Cao. That fellow who rose from Magistrate Yuan to Prefect Yuan, however, was promoted last year and left the Dragon Province’s officialdom, going to the auxiliary capital of Great Li to serve in the Ministry of Revenue as the Vice Minister of the Right.

Many great dynasties often established auxiliary capitals. The offices in these capitals were often ranked only one grade lower than those in the main capital, and sometimes even held the same official rank. These were often places where aging meritorious officials could retire, “simple affairs in the auxiliary capital” being a way to dismiss them from the main capital and send them to the auxiliary capital to hold a honorary, empty title, or a destination for the demotion of officials from the capital, a way for the court to preserve their face.

However, the Great Li Dynasty was, of course, different. Whether it was the geographical location of the auxiliary capital or the staffing of officials, it demonstrated the great importance the Great Li Song Clan placed on this auxiliary capital.

In the six ministries of the auxiliary capital, only the ministers were still selected from steady, older men. The other vice ministers of each ministry were all young and strong officials like Yuan Zhengding.

Moreover, the various departments of the auxiliary capital held great power. Especially the Minister of War of the auxiliary capital, who was directly appointed by the Minister of War of the Great Li capital. Contrary to what the court officials expected, this position was not given to a newly promoted patrolling envoy general. It was only said that the authority to advise and select personnel for the Ministry of War had, in fact, moved south from the Great Li capital to the auxiliary capital. The first ever Director of the Imperial Academy in the auxiliary capital was held by the Headmaster of the Linlu Academy, which was built on Mount Beiyue Piyun.

Cao Gengxin said telepathically, “Regarding the natal porcelain of you and your friend, there are some new clues.”

Liu Xianyang nodded and took a sip of wine. “I owe you a favor.”

In the Yasu shop on Riding Dragon Lane, Shi Rou hummed a fragmented folk song passed down from the ancient Shu Kingdom.

*White clouds in the sky, hills rise on their own, the road is long and distant, the mountains lie between, may you not die, and be able to return.*

Now there was a helper in the shop, a young boy who could speak but didn’t like to. He was like a little mute. When there were no customers, the child liked to sit alone on the doorstep in a daze. Shi Rou liked this, and she never bothered him.

Every day, in addition to practicing boxing and stances on time and in set amounts, the child seemed to be learning from the half-master Pei Qian, also needing to copy books. However, the child was stubborn and would never throw an extra punch, take an extra step, or write an extra word when copying books. It was purely a perfunctory task. He would use the stances and copied pages to exchange for money when Pei Qian returned. As for those copied pages, they were all thrown by this child, nicknamed A-Man, into a bamboo basket every day. Once the basket was full, they were all moved to a large wicker basket in the corner. When Shi Rou cleaned the room, she glanced at the bamboo basket and saw the messy, crooked writing, worse than Pei Qian’s when she was little.

Shi Rou liked this peaceful and harmonious life very much. She used to feel too lonely when she looked after the shop alone. Having a little A-Man was just right. The shop had a bit more life, but it was still quiet.

Now that the town was becoming more and more prosperous with merchants, Shi Rou liked to buy some literary notes and strange tales to pass the time. Stacks of them were neatly placed in the counter, and occasionally A-Man would flip through a few pages.

Today, business in the shop was average. Shi Rou and A-Man were each reading their own books. The child was standing on a small stool, still having to stand on tiptoe.

Suddenly, the child moved the literary notes a few inches and reached out to hold the page. Shi Rou turned her head and saw a sentence from a sage on the book.

*In the beginning, heaven and earth communicated, and humans communicated with heaven. Morning to heaven, evening to heaven, heaven and man, morning speaks, evening speaks.*

Shi Rou smiled, but realized that something was wrong. She knew her current appearance, of course. Shi Rou quickly composed herself and explained to the child in a soft voice, “Those immortal masters who go to the mountains to cultivate immortal arts believe that a long, long time ago, heaven and earth communicated, and gods and humans lived together. How should I put it… To give you an example, it’s like people visiting each other in the marketplace today. But some doors have high thresholds, like Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Lane in town. Ordinary people can’t go there easily, and no one will answer if you knock. But Riding Dragon Lane is naturally not a high-threshold place. However, where exactly those roads that connect heaven and man are, the books describe it very mysteriously. Some say it’s a platform for ascension, some say it’s a big tree, some say it’s a mountain peak. Anyway, there’s no accurate answer.”

The child nodded, probably understanding.

On Mount Dragon Spring Sword Sect.

Ruan Xiu walked alone to the cliff on the mountaintop. Leaning back, she fell off the cliff, taking in one by one the inscriptions carved on the cliff face: *Heaven Opens Divine Beauty*.