Crimson Cui suddenly chuckled, “Those three golden spirit bronze coins from the Tomb of the Immortals, I already collected them for you long ago.”

This was a distant echo to the phrase “a single lamp illuminates a thousand-year-old dark room,” and a divine stroke that created the effect of “though the light is extinguished, the lamp remains.”

On the path of life, good deeds may be great or small, even of dubious authenticity, but pure benevolence knows no distinction of high or low.

For no reason, Cui Wei remembered a certain saying: “For a gentleman, nothing is better for cultivating the heart than sincerity. With utmost sincerity, there is nothing else to worry about. Only benevolence is to be guarded, only righteousness is to be adapted and renewed, this is called Heavenly Virtue.”

With just a few words, he revealed the three great matters of “sincerity of heart,” “guarding benevolence,” and “heavenly virtue.”

It was only that the old scholar spoke of too many principles, countless good words, hidden among them, which made these words seem less noticeable.

When the old scholar was obscure and unknown in the marketplace, he had repeatedly told his earliest and closest student this very thing. Eventually, with great difficulty, he put it together with other principles and put it in a book with a light, oily ink fragrance, published and sold to earn money. In fact, at the time, the old scholar thought that the bookseller’s brain must have been waterlogged, that he would actually agree to print his unworldly thoughts. In truth, the bookseller truly believed it would not sell and would lose money. It was only after someone pleaded and cajoled, plus a round of drinks from the future Sage of Literature’s foremost disciple, that he reluctantly agreed to print a pitiful three hundred copies. Privately, just a few students from the academy dipped into their own pockets and secretly bought thirty copies, and successfully encouraged the wealthy A-Liang to buy fifty books in one go. At the time, the academy’s foremost disciple was the most capable, tempting A-Liang with profit, saying that this was a first edition, only three hundred copies printed, each one was a unique volume. Later, when the old scholar gained fame, the price would increase many times over. At the time, the youngest disciple in the academy, substituted tea for wine, and clinked cups with A-Liang, telling A-Liang to wait, and when he grew older and saved up a few gold leaves and silver ingots, he would roam the world and drink wine then, forget about tea, which had no flavor. The heroes of tales of the Jianghu didn’t drink tea, they only drank wine from big bowls, not even cups.

Those were the years when the teacher and students of the Sage of Literature’s lineage were most financially strapped.

Drinking with the unruly A-Liang was a happy event for the senior and junior brothers. But before that, when Cui Wei had once drunk alone with the red-faced, fat bookseller, Cui Wei felt that he had never been so humble in his life, especially at the dinner table.

It was as if he had used up all the fawning expressions and words of a lifetime in one dinner. The young man stood, the fat man with a few smelly coins in his pocket sat, the young scholar held a cup in both hands, drinking cup after cup, and the man only smiled and raised his cup, taking only a sip of wine before putting down the cup to eat.

The old scholar might not know about this matter to this day, or perhaps he already knew these trivial things, but inevitably adopted the manner of a teacher, emphasizing the refinement of a scholar, and was embarrassed to say anything. Anyway, he owed his foremost disciple a word of thanks, and it remained owed. Or perhaps, it was the natural order of things for a teacher to impart knowledge and resolve doubts for students, and for students to relieve their teacher’s worries. There was simply no need for either side to say half a word more.

When Chen Ping An heard these words, he slowly closed his eyes, and a taut string in his heart finally loosened completely. Exhaustion was written all over his face. He wanted to sleep soundly, to sleep for days and nights, not caring if his snores were as loud as thunder.

Snowflakes were falling, but not on the city walls where the two were standing. Like immortals cultivating in the mountains, where summer does not bring heat and winter does not bring cold, and therefore the mountains have no seasons.

Earlier, Chen Ping An was still worried about the possibility that this Cui Wei was still that meticulous schemer. If so, then wouldn’t his more than ten years of sleeplessness, tireless work, and lack of food and drink have been in vain?

Chen Ping An had no idea what Zhou Mi could possibly gain from him outside the Sword Qi Great Wall, but the principle was simple. If a scholar of the barbaric world was planning against him like this, it must be a grand scheme.

To think of complex matters in a simple way is to dismantle, to cut apart, like breaking ten thousand techniques with one sword. But to think of simple matters in a complex way is to mend, to build, to create a small world.

The three copper coins that Chen Ping An had hidden in his hometown when he was young were extremely secret. No matter how capable that damned Zhou Mi was, he could not have known.

Crimson Cui was indeed skilled at understanding human nature. With one sentence, he could disarm Chen Ping An.

Cui Wei turned his head and glanced at Chen Ping An, who was lying on the ground, and said, “Gaining great fame at a young age is not a good thing. It easily makes people self-righteous without realizing it.”

Chen Ping An nodded, indicating his agreement. It was a principle that could be right or wrong, but it seemed more reasonable coming from Cui Wei. Many principles are seemingly just a few words from others, but in fact, they are teaching you with their entire life. Whether it is useful or not, just listen. It doesn’t cost you anything. If you gain something, it’s like drinking a bowl of free wine.

Chen Ping An knew that this Crimson Tiger was talking about the travelogue, but he couldn’t help but feel resentful. “Going to another extreme, causing my reputation to be ruined, is that good?”

Chen Ping An wasn’t worried about his reputation being damaged. After all, it was external. But there were still some simple-minded children on Fallen Phoenix Mountain. If they saw that filthy travelogue, wouldn’t they be heartbroken? It was estimated that when he returned home, a certain girl would have even more reason to avoid him.

Cui Wei laughed, “A reputation is always better than Mountain Lord Wei Bo’s.”

Chen Ping An opened his eyes, feeling a little worried and puzzled. “What do you mean by that?”

Cui Wei said, “You’ll know when you return. Don’t ask me.”

Chen Ping An used the narrow blade Zhan Kan to prop himself up, struggling to sit up. His hands were no longer hidden in his sleeves, and he reached out to rub his cheeks hard, dispelling the heavy drowsiness. He asked, “How was your trip to Shujian Lake?”

The narrow blade Zhan Kan stood on its own on the city wall.

Cui Wei turned his head again, looked at this cautious young man, smiled, and answered irrelevantly, “The silver lining is that we still have time.”

Chen Ping An’s question was a small matter that Cui Wei had deliberately rubbed salt into the wound when he went to Fallen Phoenix Mountain to ask the young Mountain Lord.

And Cui Wei’s answer was a remark made by the Great Li Imperial Preceptor at the time.

Chen Ping An took a deep breath and stood up. In the snowy night, the sky was dark and the earth was dim. It was as if there were only two people in the entire barbaric world.
At last, the suffocating predicament of being besieged on all sides, an enemy to the entire world, was over. Even though the Grand Li State Preceptor beside him had once orchestrated the Seeker’s Heart Trial at Shujian Lake, this scholar, after all, hailed from the vast and boundless world of Haoran, from the lineage of the Sage of Literature, from his homeland. “No paper or pen at hand, but please, convey my message of peace,” a message of peace. Alas, it seemed Cui Chan had no intention of divulging matters of Haoran, and Chen Ping’an felt that pressing him would be futile.

Cui Chan casually remarked, “A heart as still as a Buddha will only hinder one from writing the words of immortals. Hence, your lineage of the Sage of Literature cannot rely on you for establishing doctrines.”

Chen Ping’an softly corrected, “Not ‘your,’ but ‘our.'”

Cui Chan appeared to ignore this distinction, not dwelling on the nuances of “you” and “I,” and continued, “In the pursuit of knowledge within the study, Li Baoping and Cao Qinglang will be the more promising, with the potential to become the paragons of Confucianism you admire. However, before they truly mature, the task of protecting them will be even more demanding, allowing for no respite.”

Chen Ping’an raised a finger, gently touching the white jade hairpin that had been his companion for years, wondering what secrets it now held.

Hesitating, Chen Ping’an refrained from immediately opening the hairpin’s miniature world’s restrictive barrier, choosing not to personally verify its hidden contents. Instead, he undid his hair, letting it fall loose, and returned the hairpin to his sleeve.

Two Caozi daggers slipped from his sleeves, instinctively grasped in his hands. No longer doubting Cui Chan’s identity, Chen Ping’an, accustomed to life on the Great Wall of Sword Qi, relied on a particular event, thought, or action to steady his mind. Otherwise, the clutter of thoughts would overwhelm him, and he’d struggle to control his wandering mind, leading to a “wild weeds and torrential rains” state of mind, making his path treacherous and wasting his spirit and energy.

Suddenly, he noticed Cui Chan staring at him.

Chen Ping’an said, “Baoping has always needed to wear red, I’ve been mindful of it, and reminded in the two letters I had delivered earlier.”

Both letters mentioned it. One was entrusted to Nianxin to be given to Ning Yao, the other to Cao Qinglang, Chen Ping’an’s envisioned future Lord of Fallen Mountain, instructing Cao Qinglang to proactively discuss the matter with Li Xisheng.

Cui Chan asked, “Only this?”

Clearly, in Cui Chan’s eyes, Chen Ping’an had only done half the job, falling far short.

Chen Ping’an looked puzzled.

Cui Chan, slightly displeased, exceptionally prompted, “Cao Qinglang’s name.”

Chen Ping’an frowned even deeper, wondering what game he was playing.

“Observing the body as not the body, a mirrored reflection in water. Observing the mind as formless, radiant and pure.”

Cui Chan shook his head, seemingly disappointed, and gazed up at the two bright moons of the Barbaric World, slowly saying, “A sudden flash of insight, a focused illumination, scattering the clouds and revealing a clear sky, the sun shining brightly! I thought after so many years away from home, with a student named ‘Qinglang’ by your side, and a Buddhist Sage seated in the firmament of the Great Wall of Sword Qi, you would have read to this point. I truly don’t know what you’ve been reading, flipping through books after books.”

Chen Ping’an seemed to understand something, and didn’t mind Cui Chan’s odd words.

Cui Chan withdrew his gaze, flicked his sleeves, and scoffed, “Obliterating all traces, immediate tranquility. True nature profound and deep, like still water, peaceful and serene, unmatched by anything. As long as you’ve encountered these words in your reading, even if you slightly grasp their true meaning, why the previous talk of ‘not being able to endure’? What if your state of mind is like shattered porcelain? Isn’t that a good thing? The sages of the past paved the way with words, you only need to walk forward. Gazing at the water’s edge, seeing the moon’s reflection break and reform, then looking up at the true moon, it will appear even brighter. Lord Hidden Official is well and good, so lost in his own world, truly remarkable. Otherwise, with such a mindset, you should have reached the Jade Purity realm long ago. A heart demon? Even if you begged it to come, it might not.”

Chen Ping’an muttered to himself, “I’m not crazy, reading everything, remembering everything, knowing everything, and understanding its true meaning. If you were my age, who knows who’d be scolding whom…”

Cui Chan glanced with amusement at the crimson Daoist robe, the hair disheveled.

As if saying, “What’s this? After a few years as Lord Hidden Official, you’ve grown accustomed to drifting on the city walls?”

Chen Ping’an immediately said, “It’s never too late to understand these Buddhist verses, good things can happen at any time.”

Chen Ping’an had learned much from Cui Dongshan about discerning others’ thoughts.

Chen Ping’an suddenly recalled that this Embroidered Tiger seemed to have a sharper mind at his age; otherwise, the world wouldn’t have deemed him the future Vice-Leader of the Confucian Temple or Grand Master of the Academy, already in the Embroidered Tiger’s grasp.

Cui Chan said, “Zuo You originally intended to come and escort you back to Haoran, but Xiao Xun kept him entangled and unable to break free.”

Chen Ping’an breathed a sigh of relief. It was better he didn’t come, as Senior Brother Zuo’s journey would only be fraught with danger.

Cui Chan looked towards the distant Hundred Thousand Mountains in the south, “The affairs of the world have always been thus. If you can’t do it, you can’t. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. It doesn’t matter if you’re a cultivator or not, the height of your cultivation matters little. A mortal teacher has mortal limitations, a cultivator has their own helplessness. That is why you have missed many things.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “For example?”

Cui Chan only said, “Many.”

Cui Chan repeated, “Many.”

Before, Liu Cha questioned the moon and sun with his sword in South娑婆洲. The previous Lord Hidden Official, Xiao Xun, slew the Ascended Realm Xun Yuan with his sword in the Tongye Continent. Bai Ye went to the Fuyu Continent, challenging several throne-holders with his four immortal swords alone. After the contract was broken, Wang Zhu successfully walked the Great Rivers in the Baoping Continent, becoming the first true dragon of mankind. Old Yang reopened the Ascension Platform. Sword cultivators from the Northern Ju Continent rushed south to support the Baoping Continent. The old master sat atop Mount Sui, suppressing the Grand Ancestor of Mount Tuoyue. The Sage of Rites guarded Haoran from beyond the heavens.

Following this, there were event after event, dazzling the eyes. Among them, the small Baoping Continent had the most strange people and strange events, most shocking to the mind.

Now, the Sub-Sage was holding back Mount Tuoyue, Cui Chan inverted the mountains and rivers, resonating with him from the Great Wall of Sword Qi. The past dispute between the Confucian Temple’s Sub-Sage and the Sage of Literature’s lineage, ended with a cooperation between three and four. This can be considered a contest of gentlemen.

Chen Ping’an squatted on the city wall, grasping the narrow blade in both hands, “Missed is missed, what can I do?”

Cui Chan smiled, “Drowning sorrows with wine is not unacceptable, anyway, the bookworm Zuo You is not here.”
The pleasure of drinking lies in the blissful realm of tipsiness.

Wine can intoxicate, and after a few cups, its potency is like that of an eleventh-realm martial artist, stripping away one’s defenses layer by layer.

Those skilled in drinking are called wine immortals, while those who indulge in heavy drinking are called drunkards. The act of drinking can elevate one to the realm of immortals or drag one down to the realm of ghosts. Hence, the Embroidered Tiger once said that wine is the most invincible thing in the human world.

Chen Ping’an said, “When I was at the Great Wall of Sword Qi, whether I was drinking inside the city or on the battlements, Senior Brother Zuo never said anything.”

Cui Chan scoffed, “Don’t say such tough-sounding words in front of me. Go say it to Zuo You if you have the guts.”

Chen Ping’an twitched the corner of his mouth, “I really dare to say it.”

Not only dare to spout harsh words while drunk, but making Senior Brother Zuo bow his head in admission of wrongdoing wouldn’t be difficult either.

As long as Teacher is by his side.

Cui Chan asked, “Still haven’t made a decision?”

Chen Ping’an said, “I’ll think about it some more. Good things are never too late.”

Cui Chan didn’t say anything sarcastic, as he could understand the young man’s state of mind: wanting to return to his hometown, yet hesitant to do so.

Cui Chan had once harbored similar complex feelings, which led to the creation of the painting “Returning Home Scroll,” treasured by the late Emperor of Great Li on his desk: Returning home is not as good as not returning.

Seemingly moved by emotion, Cui Chan looked at this unfamiliar and vast world, “What one person can do is ultimately limited. No matter who it is, there will be a boundary. Words, actions, thoughts, none are exceptions. Even if you shatter all the constraints and rules around you, seeming free and pure, it’s not so. Since you cannot rebuild order, disorder itself is a great shackle, far from being true freedom. Flipping your hand and the world disappears, raising your hand and the world begins – that is true freedom. Even if you bring everything in the world back to one, but cannot use that one to create all things, it’s still not true freedom.”

Cui Chan lightly stamped his foot, “One step down, and an ant nest is gone. Even a child can do that, what’s so great about it?”

“On the contrary.”

Cui Chan raised his right hand and tapped his left hand with a finger, “Do you know how many small worlds you cannot even imagine are extinguished in that instant?”

Cui Chan smiled playfully, “Who told you that only sentient beings are the masters of all things in the world? If it weren’t for a certain Great Dao beneath my feet that I am unwilling, unable, and dare not stray too far from, the world would have another fifteenth-realm cultivator to change the heavens and earth. You might say that the founders of the Three Teachings wouldn’t let me succeed, then what if I first became the Deputy Hierarch of the Confucian Temple, and then went beyond the heavens? Or simply colluded with Jia Sheng from the inside out?”

Chen Ping’an knew what Cui Chan was talking about: the Porcelain Man.

Capable of poetry and song, skilled in chess and cultivation, capable of independently figuring out the seven emotions and six desires, and capable of self-proclaimed joys and sorrows, able to freely switch states of mind and arbitrarily cut emotions, seemingly no different from humans, yet even more inhuman than true cultivators, because they are born with a Dao Heart, ignoring life and death. Seemingly just puppets controlled by strings, prone to falling apart, their fate controlled by others, but how did the gods, high above, view the human race on the earth? One immeasurable possibility could change the landscape, and it would be faster than the rise of the human race, and the destruction of the human race would be even faster.

Chen Ping’an cautiously asked, “Has Treasure Bottle Continent been defended?”

Cui Chan smiled without answering. Knowing the question.

Chen Ping’an no longer asked.

Chen Ping’an wasn’t in a hurry to return to Treasure Bottle Continent, and Cui Chan felt that he had said almost everything he wanted to say.

For a moment, Cui Chan suddenly didn’t know what to say.

After all, he wasn’t with his junior brother Jun Qian, but Chen Ping’an, who was like a half-junior brother.

Jun Qian was single-minded, liking to listen and forget, while Chen Ping’an thought too much, liking to listen and remember, and chew out a few flavors.

However, Cui Chan inevitably felt a little unhappy. Even Lin Shouyi dared to question him face to face.

Aren’t you very eloquent? You’ve managed to deceive the Old Scholar into favoring you so much. What’s wrong? Are you becoming a silent gourd now?

Chen Ping’an seemed to understand, saying, “These past few years, I haven’t cursed you less.”

Only half the words were spoken.

And haven’t hit you less.

Anyway, his later student, Cui Dongshan, was considered half of Cui Chan.

Cui Chan nodded, seeming rather satisfied with the answer, and rarely agreed with something Chen Ping’an did.

He called the young man by name for the first time, “Chen Ping’an, don’t think that only we are doing things for this world. It’s not like that, not at all.”

“Just like you, you have indeed, realistically done some things, there’s nothing to deny, but in my Cui Chan’s view, it’s nothing more than Chen Ping’an, as the closed-door disciple of the Literary Saint lineage, and as a scholar of the Vast Expanse, doing some things that moved the principles from books to the outside world, which is only natural. You and I know that this is still to seek peace of mind. In the future, when you suffer losses, don’t ask the heavens and earth for more because of this, it’s not necessary.”

“Besides the grand feats, in addition to the merits and demerits that are destined to be recorded in history, also think more about those who lived and died, those who didn’t even have names. Just like the Great Wall of Sword Qi has stood here for ten thousand years, it shouldn’t only remember those sword immortals with extraordinary killing power.”

Cui Chan looked into the distance, and as far as his eyes could see, the wind and snow gave way. Cui Chan strained his eyes, looking towards Mount Tuoyue in the distance.

It was as if he saw, many years ago, a Vast Expanse scholar in a foreign land, chatting and laughing about the affairs of the world with an old man in gray.

The latter said to the scholar, please go to the highest place, go to a place with learning higher than the founders of the Three Teachings, and see for me what true freedom is!

Zhou Mi bowed respectfully, answering with four words: How dare I disobey.

Cui Chan looked up at the sky.

Is the world at peace? Perhaps it is. Then can we rest easy? I think not necessarily.

Cui Chan retracted his thoughts.

Chen Ping’an raised both hands, went around his shoulders, and cast a landscape art, casually tying up his hair, as if with a ring around his head.

Chen Ping’an’s eyebrows danced, his spirit was high, and his expression was no longer downcast. “I’ve made up my mind. I, your father, am going to move a mountain.”

In the prison of the past, Chen Ping’an once said a heartfelt truth to a demon from beyond the heavens in the Ascension Realm: We must become strong, we must do something for this world.

Do something that only we can do.

Cui Chan smiled and said, “How so?”

Chen Ping’an said in a deep voice, “Whether I become a sword servant or a sword sheath, whether my realm falls endlessly after a single sword strike, I don’t care. I want to ask the sword on Mount Tuoyue. I implore Senior Brother… to protect me on this journey?”

Cui Chan nodded, “Very good.”
In that instant, Chen Ping’an was as if struck by a Binding Spell, utterly immobile. Before he could react, he was struck by Cui Chan’s strange and unpredictable Daoist technique, instantly falling unconscious. Cui Chan sat leisurely to the side, a tall woman appearing beside him from thin air. Seeing Chen Ping’an unharmed, she seemed somewhat surprised.

She crouched down, reaching out to stroke Chen Ping’an’s brow. Raising her head, she asked the Embroidered Tiger, “Why is this?”

Cui Chan lightly patted his knees, appearing relaxed and at ease. He said, “This is the final trial of the heart. Whether he can surpass his master and achieve greater things, all hinges on this.”

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