Five days had passed. The setting sun cast long shadows as Chen Ping’an finally ascended the Crest Peak, prominently marked on the government’s brand-new map. Within a radius of tens of miles, this peak stood alone, exceptionally soaring into the clouds. Chen Ping’an gnawed on a hard, dry biscuit, sitting on the branch of an old pine tree that jutted out from the cliff edge. A refreshing breeze rustled, causing the young man’s sideburns and strands of hair to fly freely.

His wicker basket rested at the foot of the tree; Chen Ping’an wasn’t brave enough to climb with it on his back. Before, he’d considered mountain climbing merely a laborious chore, always focused on keeping pace with old man Yao. Unlike now, where he stopped to rest when tired, truly appreciating the distant green mountains and clear waters. Moreover, many landscapes that now left Chen Ping’an in awe had previously been forbidden mountains of the Great Li Dynasty. The boy could only follow the taciturn old man, taking detours around them. Crest Peak was one such place.

Having traversed mountains and streams, Chen Ping’an had witnessed many unfamiliar, magnificent scenes. There were cascading waterfalls, adorned with small rainbows after the rain, that the boy felt he could almost reach out and take home as treasured possessions. There were steep cliffs crowded with countless birds, clustered together like snowy-white curtains hanging on the wall. There were perilous peaks accessible only by treacherous paths, culminating in a sudden entrance into a large stone terrace, its breathtaking view causing one to hold their breath. At night, the boy wrapped himself in a coat, leaning against his basket, and drifted into a slumber, as if he could hear the murmuring whispers of immortals in the heavens.

Another three days of trekking brought Chen Ping’an to the Spiritual Splendor Mountain, as described by Master Ruan. To the northwest and southwest, separated by approximately ten miles, stood Beacon Peak and Spear Thrust Peak, forming a pincer-like formation with Spiritual Splendor Peak, resembling three giants standing on opposing sides.

According to the map, five smaller peaks nestled within a hundred miles of this peak and two mountains. The smaller ones were Cloud Color Peak and Immortal Herb Mountain; the others were the larger Lamp Wick Terrace, Yellow Lake Mountain, and Treasure Record Mountain. Before arriving at Spiritual Splendor Mountain, Chen Ping’an had visited Immortal Herb Mountain and Lamp Wick Terrace. Immortal Herb Mountain was only slightly larger than Pearl Mountain, and although its elevation was low, its vegetation was exceptionally lush with many towering trees. As for Yellow Lake Mountain, it was likely named for a small lake at its halfway point. From afar, the lake water appeared yellowish, but up close, it was remarkably clear. However, aside from this small lake, Chen Ping’an found Yellow Lake Mountain to be far inferior to Spiritual Splendor Mountain.

Chen Ping’an then spent a full four days wandering around Spiritual Splendor Mountain and Spear Thrust Peak, ultimately selecting three peaks.

Immortal Herb Mountain, Treasure Record Mountain, and Cloud Color Peak. Immortal Herb Mountain was small, Treasure Record Mountain was large, and Cloud Color Peak was high.

Treasure Record Mountain consumed the most of Chen Ping’an’s time. It truly was a place of deep clouds, high mountains, and long rivers. Among all the mountains Chen Ping’an had traversed, its scale was second only to Cloud Robe Mountain and Spiritual Splendor Mountain. However, Chen Ping’an was puzzled. Treasure Record Mountain was such a vast territory, close to Spear Thrust Peak, and even Chen Ping’an, a layman in cultivation, could sense the picturesque beauty of this mountain. Why would Master Ruan abandon Lamp Wick Terrace and choose Treasure Record Mountain instead?

Chen Ping’an estimated that his selected three peaks would cost approximately forty-five gold essence copper coins. The remaining thirty-five copper coins, with Pearl Mountain inevitably consuming one Welcome Spring coin, left him with a substantial thirty-four. This was enough for Chen Ping’an to generously purchase a truly significant mountain! After all, Master Ruan had said that even first-rate mountains like Dried Spring Mountain Range, Fragrant Fire Mountain, and Spiritual Splendor Mountain only cost twenty-five to thirty gold essence copper coins.

Master Ruan had also revealed a secret: that in the future, within this thousand-mile radius, the Great Li Dynasty would bestow titles upon a Mountain God, three lesser Mountain Spirits, and a River God. Ruan Xiu had explained this in detail the next day. The Mountain Spirit would be a suitable candidate selected by the Ministry of Rites, perhaps a prominent historical figure in the region or a meritorious military general who died for his country. Then, the Great Li Emperor would recognize and appoint them as Mountain Spirit, formally writing their name into the River and Mountain Records with a special vermillion brush. After a ceremony of incense and offerings, the Emperor, acting as the Son of Heaven who governs the human realm on behalf of the heavens, would announce this to the upper gods, generally concluding the matter.

Afterward, the Imperial Observatory would create golden vouchers and jade tablets, which the National Preceptor would personally inscribe with imperial edicts and have buried at the foot of the mountain. Finally, the government would commission the creation of a golden clay statue to be enshrined in a Mountain Spirit Temple. The Mountain Spirit would then be qualified to openly enjoy the incense offerings of the common people, protecting the living beings within its mountain territory, suppressing, subduing, or expelling any encroaching ghosts and spirits.

Chen Ping’an didn’t expect one of the Mountain Spirits to sit in his selected three peaks near Spiritual Splendor Mountain, helping to protect his home. Instead, he placed his hopes on the large mountain that cost the most money. In this way, his main business could be protected by Master Ruan for three hundred years. As for that lonely, large mountain far from here, if he could invite a Mountain Spirit there, it would undoubtedly give Chen Ping’an much peace of mind.

As for the small earthen mound of Pearl Mountain, worth only one Welcome Spring coin, he reckoned no one but Chen Ping’an would take a second glance at it.

At this moment, Chen Ping’an sat on a large rocky cliff atop Cloud Color Peak. Before him was spread out the brand-new Great Li Dragon Spring terrain map. The boy had memorized the names and locations of those mountains, yet he still couldn’t make up his mind about purchasing the final mountain.

The straw-sandal-wearing boy cupped his cheeks with his hands, his brow furrowed, gently swaying back and forth.

The boy’s thoughts wandered far and wide.

What could he do with the mountains once he bought them? Chen Ping’an wasn’t really sure.

But just thinking that for three hundred years, he would nominally be the owner of those five mountains, that in itself was a very happy thing.

He could first marry a wife, start a family, and pass the mountains down to his children, who would then pass them down to their children.

So it seemed that marriage, although not an immediate priority, was something he needed to consider.

Thinking of this, Chen Ping’an chuckled foolishly and suddenly snapped back to reality, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

Chen Ping’an leaned back, feeling sleepy, and wanted to doze off for a while. After an unknown period, he opened his eyes, and his head suddenly felt enormous. Was he now dreaming even in broad daylight?

It turned out this was the third time he had encountered that white-robed figure.

Once on the covered bridge, once under the stone arch bridge, and now here on the mountain peak.

Bathed in snowy-white light, the tall, white-robed figure sat cross-legged, no more than two lengths away from Chen Ping’an. Yet, Chen Ping’an couldn’t make out the other’s features.

Chen Ping’an felt that living in constant apprehension wasn’t sustainable. He mustered his courage and carefully asked, “Senior…”

*Smack!*

The next moment, Chen Ping’an felt as if he had been slapped in the face by an ox’s tail in his youth, a burning pain searing his skin.

As if waking from a nightmare, Chen Ping’an abruptly sat up, finding himself in his original position. He looked around, seeing nothing amiss. But touching his cheek, he found that it indeed still ached.

The boy racked his brains, unable to understand why, and could only scratch his head in confusion.