Ning Yao requested several dishes to go with the wine from the innkeeper and also asked for an extra room. The innkeeper glanced at Chen Ping’an, who remained silent.

*Why are you looking at me?* Chen Ping’an thought. *Heaven and earth bear witness, we didn’t conspire anything. Besides, what could I even say? Do I own this inn?*

His personal disciple glanced sideways at his teacher, who was squinting at the street outside. The night was dark, and being a traveler in a foreign land felt somewhat lonely.

Sitting down in the room, Chen Ping’an helped his teacher fill a wine bowl, then looked at Ning Yao. She shook her head, so Chen Ping’an only poured one for himself.

During the most difficult time of his life, it was the Book Brief Lake youth Zeng Ye, the female ghost Su Xinzhai, and a few others who accompanied Chen Ping’an through that journey of landscapes.

The Old Scholar probably felt the atmosphere was a bit silent, so he picked up his wine bowl and gently clinked it against Chen Ping’an’s, then took the lead and spoke, as if a teacher were testing his disciple’s scholarship: “There’s a saying in the ‘Unbinding’ chapter. Ping’an?”

Chen Ping’an had just taken a sip of wine. Since his teacher had mentioned “Unbinding,” the answer was actually easy to guess. He quickly put down his wine bowl and said, “Teacher once said, ‘Wine confuses the spirit.'”

The Old Scholar asked with a smile, “Then do you know why the teacher warned the world like that back then?”

Chen Ping’an said, “I guess it’s because Teacher was poor back then and couldn’t afford wine, so he was just being sour about those who spent money on wine without batting an eye?”

The Old Scholar clapped his hands on the table and laughed heartily, “What is a prized student? This is it!”

*Unlike Zuo You,* he thought, *who was a fool back then and liked to use that phrase to shut me up, not allowing Teacher to contradict himself! Teacher wrote so many sage principles in his books, more than a few baskets could hold, could he really do all of them?*

The most thoughtful and comforting was still his personal disciple.

The Old Scholar drank a bowl of wine in one gulp. As soon as he put the bowl down, Chen Ping’an had already refilled it. The Old Scholar stroked his beard and said with emotion, “Back then, I craved it so much. The worst was when I was up late reading books and heard those drunkards vomiting in the alleys. Teacher wished he could sew up their mouths, wasting wine and money! Back then, I made a grand ambition, Ping’an?”

Chen Ping’an said, “If you become a high-ranking official or a Confucian sage next year, you’ll establish a rule that you’re not allowed to vomit when drinking.”

The Old Scholar nodded, “That’s right, that’s right.”

Ning Yao changed her mind and poured herself a bowl of wine.

Chen Ping’an roughly told the story of Book Brief Lake and Su Xinzhai, and also mentioned the old village woman who lived a life of hardship with composure.

The Old Scholar crushed a dried salted peanut shell with two fingers, put it in his mouth, and nodded, “The only learning of the world’s heroes is nothing more than composure. A petty person reversing the world and correcting it with a backhand is composure. If I am willing but powerless, and cannot help matters, being able to maintain my integrity is still composure.”

In fact, all three of them knew very well that the inn, the young woman, and the large vase were all arrangements made by Cui Chan.

Book Brief Lake had Chen Ping’an wandering around like a ghost hitting a wall for many years, making him as thin as skin and bones, but once he got through it, it seemed that besides the suffering, there was only suffering left.

Cui Chan never gave too much, especially not giving Chen Ping’an any tangible benefits. Whether it was the landscape painting of Tongye Continent or tonight’s inn girl, Cui Chan seemed to have placed a light in the distance of his junior brother Chen Ping’an’s path. If you don’t take that step, or choose to avoid and detour, you’ll miss it forever. Cui Chan’s actions seemed to be telling Chen Ping’an a very cruel truth: despair is self-inflicted, so hope must also be found by yourself.

Ning Yao asked, “Now that you’ve had the good fortune to meet her again in this life, what are your plans?”

In Ning Yao’s view, the young woman in this life, Su Xinzhai, could barely be considered to have some aptitude for cultivation, so she could naturally be taken to the Fallen Mountain for cultivation. Don’t forget that Chen Ping’an’s best skill is not accounting, or even cultivation, but protecting the path for others.

However, Ning Yao didn’t think that the best choice was for the girl to immediately go up the mountain to cultivate.

Chen Ping’an said, “I’ll have to talk to her more later.”

In fact, Chen Ping’an had been considering this matter carefully and cautiously on the way here.

Generally speaking, only through cultivation would the inn girl, who didn’t even know her name in this life, have the opportunity to awaken and remember her previous life, to continue the predestined relationship in this life and fulfill her previous life’s wishes.

Just like many ordinary teachers, they always see some “familiar” people on the road of life, but most of them don’t think too much about it. They just take a few glances and then pass by.

But is remembering the affairs of the previous life what Su Xinzhai wanted in her last life, and what the young woman wants now?

The Old Scholar smiled, “Treat the little girl as well as you can. As for what really counts as good, there’s no need to rush. Sometimes we have to admit that not all things can be prepared in advance. You really can only solve them when they come. Ping’an, especially don’t forget one thing, for the girl, she is just her, only in your eyes is she Su Xinzhai of Book Brief Lake and Huangli Mountain.”

Not going up the mountain, for example, living a stable life in this Dali capital city, in the mundane world, is a good thing, even if the years are shorter, marrying and raising children, dealing with firewood, rice, oil, and salt. It’s not too late for the little girl to come and cultivate when she is willing to go up the mountain herself. Fallen Mountain still has some resources, and there is no shortage of preachers or immortal money.

Chen Ping’an nodded, “I must understand this principle first before I can do the next thing well.”

From beginning to end, Chen Ping’an seemed very calm, but in the space of just a few sentences, he had already drunk several mouthfuls of wine.

Drinking quickly is a big taboo at the dinner table. No matter how good your alcohol tolerance is, it’s easy to capsize in the wine vat, and then you’ll probably run under the table and claim to be invincible and not drunk.

Chen Ping’an said, “Teacher, why did you suddenly go to Imitation White Jade City to discuss Dao?”

The Old Scholar raised his legs, took a sip of wine, and said with a smile, “I’ve cultivated in the merit forest for many years, and I’ve accumulated a lot of small complaints. As for learning, I’ve also made some progress after reading books there for many years. To tell the truth, it’s just that my mouth itches, like being addicted to wine when you have no money in your pocket.”

Chen Ping’an nodded, “Although I regret not seeing or hearing Teacher’s Dao discussion in person, I know that the learning of Teacher’s opponent can be said to be as high as the sky, just based on the vision of heaven and earth that swept across half of the Great Universal. Teacher, shouldn’t we have a drink to celebrate this?”
The grizzled old scholar, one leg propped on a long bench, raised his wine bowl, clinked it gently, and nodded emphatically, “That old master’s knowledge is truly profound. He is the sage closest to the Great Dao, unparalleled in this world, truly remarkable.”

The old scholar and Chen Pingan each finished their bowl of wine. Chen Pingan smiled and turned his bowl upside down to show that he hadn’t left a drop. The old scholar glanced at his own bowl, reluctantly took another small sip, and then turned his bowl upside down, saying, “Fill it up, keep it coming.” The old scholar thought to himself, “Kid, if you keep drinking like this, don’t get too drunk. If you don’t wake up until noon tomorrow, don’t blame your teacher. Zuo You isn’t around either. As your teacher…”

Chen Pingan had refilled his wine and simply took off his boots, sitting cross-legged. He sighed, “Teacher is fighting against the heavens and earth with only his virtue.”

The old scholar was filled with emotion. “It’s a disadvantage, it’s difficult.”

Ning Yao realized that these two, teacher and disciple, weren’t talking about winning or losing, nor were they asking about the outcome. They were simply praising that old master.

The higher the old master’s knowledge, the more the teacher had won. Naturally, his knowledge was even greater.

The old scholar turned his head and smiled, “Little Ning, your sword-flying journey is now known throughout the world. Later, I’ll talk to A Liang and Zuo You and tell them to quickly concede their titles of ‘Highest Sword Intent’ and ‘Supreme Sword Technique’.”

Ning Yao said, “I won’t be coming to the Vast Bright World often, so there’s no need to worry about the Confucian Temple.”

If it wasn’t for the old literary sage, she wouldn’t even bother explaining.

The old scholar shook his head with a smile, “Why worry about that? The Confucian Temple has that kind of tolerance. Besides, the Sage of Ritual is in charge now, and the atmosphere is vastly different from before. I’m only worried if you don’t come often. What I’m truly concerned about is your lack of freedom from now on.”

Look at the three founders of religions, who would go visiting other families?

As the foremost individual of the Five Colors World, Ning Yao’s situation would certainly be much better than Chen Qingdu’s guarding the city walls for ten thousand years, but there would still be a similar kind of… hardship.

Ning Yao said, “Freedom to come and go within a world is enough.”

The old scholar sighed and shook his head. “It’s too early to say that.”

Ning Yao felt a bit helpless, but she would listen since the old literary sage said so.

She remembered something and told Chen Pingan. The old coachman had promised her that Chen Pingan could ask him three questions that wouldn’t violate his oath.

Chen Pingan nodded with a smile.

The old scholar seemed to have a sudden inspiration, drank his wine, and said with a chuckle, “Some bastards who’ve made a name for themselves can’t be taught, and they won’t change. You can only wait for them to rot, to completely decay.”

As for who the old scholar was scolding, it might be some old foxes in the officialdom who did nothing but trip people up, perhaps some old sword immortals from the Righteous Sun Mountain, or maybe some old fogeys in the Vast Bright World whose survival skills were even higher than their cultivation. The old scholar didn’t name names, so who knew.

Chen Pingan nodded, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

The three of them almost simultaneously sensed a strange aura.

Not in the capital of Great Li, but far away in the capital region, on a ghostly road avoided by the living.

The old scholar relied on the sage’s connection to heaven and earth, Ning Yao on her Ascension Realm cultivation, and Chen Pingan on the ripple of his Dao Heart, which suppressed all evils.

Chen Pingan stood up and said, “I’ll go take a look outside.”

Ning Yao was about to follow Chen Pingan out of the inn.

The old scholar smiled, “Little Ning, you don’t need to come. The Great Li court has already done a good job of clearing the way. Your sword intent is too strong; you can’t help. It’s fine; I just happen to have some precautions for the Five Colors World that I’ve figured out myself. It’s not misusing public office; I’ll chat with you about them.”

Pure sword cultivators are infinitely deadly outside the battlefield, the best at killing, but not necessarily good at helping the living.

Ning Yao sat back down. Chen Pingan used Shrinking Earth, his figure in azure robes flickering in and out of existence. In one step, he arrived near the city wall of the capital. Looking into the distance, he saw that hundreds of miles away, yin energy soared into the sky, gathering into a winding river.

On that mountain and river road, specially chosen for its desolate and uninhabited nature, the yin and evil qi were too heavy. Because there were so few living people and so little yang energy, ordinary Qi Refiners, even earth immortals, would likely have their cultivation diminished if they dared to approach. If one looked closely with Qi Observation, they would find that the trees along the road, even without being trampled, had no contact with the ghosts. But their verdant color already showed a strange hint of death, like a person’s livid complexion.

A group of Great Li Qi Refiners guarding that section of the outer city wall asked the azure-robed swordsman who had suddenly appeared, “Who goes there?”

Chen Pingan took out the Ministry of Justice’s token from his sleeve and hung it on his waist. Since he was one of their own, the old retainer examined the token to confirm its authenticity and then simply cupped his fist, asking no further questions.

Chen Pingan was silent for a moment, then asked, “Old sir, the number of them seems particularly large this time? It looks like there must be about thirty thousand?”

The old retainer nodded. “Because this is the penultimate batch, the quantity is greater.”

In fact, the old retainer was originally unwilling to talk much, but the uninvited guest used the word “number” instead of terms like “wandering souls” or “ghosts,” which made the old man willing to say a few words.

In Great Li’s northern territory, in the place where the Song family rose to prominence, a Water and Land Dharma Assembly presided over by the Capital Translation Bureau and a Great Zhou Heavenly Offering presided over by the Pure Void Bureau were held annually to guide the yin souls and spirits from the battlefield sites to return to their homelands. These had been held for many years, day and night, and still hadn’t ended. There were simply too many Great Li soldiers who had died in foreign lands. In recent years, the Great Li court, by imperial decree, had the Ministry of Rites take the lead in preparing the matter, the Ministry of Revenue provided the funds, and the Ministry of War sent people to protect them. Just for the sake of a grand parade of yin soldiers, three mountain and river routes had been opened up at enormous cost.

Each time, thousands or even tens of thousands of battlefield spirits and wandering souls would stop during the day to prevent the remnants of their souls from being exposed to the sun, and would rest in the mountain and river formations set up along the way by Great Li Qi Refiners. They would only travel at night. There were virtuous monks chanting sutras and leading the way with their staves, Daoist masters silently reciting incantations and ringing bells to guide them, and Celestial Observatory Qi Refiners and Great Li Iron Cavalry on both sides of the road to prevent the wandering souls from running away. With the cooperation of the local mountain and river deities, city gods, and Confucian and Martial Temples, this matter had always proceeded without major problems, without disturbing the living.
Rumor had it that a vice minister of the Ministry of War in the capital, a man risen from the ranks of the border army, once openly threatened officials of the Ministry of Revenue, “Don’t talk to me about difficulties! This matter is non-negotiable! Even if the Ministry of Revenue has to sell its pots and pans, tear down the building materials of its own offices for money, you must ensure that the souls of all the fallen Great Li border soldiers do not linger too long at the battlefield ruins, lest they dissipate completely!” To this end, the Ministry of War specially dispatched five or six individuals, who stayed in the Ministry of Revenue’s offices on a temporary “assignment,” specifically to supervise and oversee the progress of this matter. Arguments were commonplace.

Besides the Great Li’s enshrined cultivators, the gentlemen and virtuous scholars of the Confucian academies, and the eminent monks and Taoists of the Buddhist and Taoist sects guiding the way, there were also geomancers from the Imperial Observatory, the heroic spirits of the Martial Temples in the capital, the City God Temple, the Land God Temples, each fulfilling their respective duties, responsible for welcoming the wandering souls at various mountain and river crossings.

Chen Ping An stood on the city wall, watching the scene of the night patrol hurrying along.

The nation was safe and sound, but where were his old friends? The mountains and rivers stretched far, the clouds and mists were vast.

These mountains and rivers might offer reunions, but they would be separated by life and death, the divide between Yin and Yang.

Indeed, how could there be so many instances of meeting as if no time had passed, of whispered smiles and shared plans?

Chen Ping An turned his head and saw Song Xu and his group of young cultivators traveling far on the wind, likely hurrying on their way to reach that path to the Netherworld as soon as possible. Everyone was rushing with lightning speed, not deliberately concealing their tracks. Sword cultivator Song Xu stepped on a sword, dragging a long, golden tail, while formation master Han Zhoujin seemed to be walking, each step covering several miles, with circles of spiritual energy rippling under her feet, like epiphyllum flowers blooming in the night. In addition, Taoist Ge Ling, military strategist Yu Yu, Confucian scholar Lu Hui, and the young novice monk Houjue, also displayed their own divine abilities and spells, hurrying away.

Chen Ping An transformed into eighteen streaks of sword light. The city wall seemed to bloom suddenly. Ten miles away, Chen Ping An staggered to the ground, once again using the still-unfamiliar sword escape technique to hurry on his way. Finally, he suspended his figure in the high sky, using Snow Mud Talismans and several other talismans to help him conceal his aura. He squatted on a tree branch at the peak of a wild mountain, overlooking the road below.

Lu Hui, Houjue, and Ge Ling, from the Confucian, Buddhist, and Taoist lineages, respectively, were clearly familiar with the task of leading the way, having already landed at the forefront of the Yin soldiers’ road through the Netherworld, walking ahead with the Great Li cultivators of their respective paths. The young military strategist from the Yu clan, an upper pillar of the state, was not to be outdone, walking alongside a group of heroic spirits from the Martial Temples of the capital and surrounding areas.

The road leading wandering souls was extremely wide, vaguely divided into four factions, with Yu Yu and the Martial Temple’s heroic spirits behind her in the largest number, accounting for nearly half.

Song Xu and Han Zhoujin found a young man who was guarding the rear, riding a horse in the Great Li iron cavalry. He was a nascent soul realm sword cultivator, not yet a hundred years old.

Seeing the two, the cavalry general merely nodded. Han Zhoujin took out two A-jia talismans and rode forward with Song Xu. Han Zhoujin asked a female colleague with whom she had a good relationship telepathically, “What’s going on?”

Because Han Zhoujin had previously discovered that the eminent monks and Taoist masters leading the way tonight were all unfamiliar faces, and they looked haggard, as if they were heavily injured. Especially those Martial Temple’s heroic spirits, she could even see their golden bodies being worn away as they walked, to a visible extent. Starlight was dotted across the night sky, vanishing into the darkness.

The female cultivator could not hide the weariness on her face, saying, “Firstly, the number of souls being guided this time is simply too large. Secondly, the Ministry of Rites issued a death order earlier, a personal dispatch from the minister. The wording was stern, saying that this Netherworld official road has consumed too much spiritual energy along the way, and has disturbed the mountains and rivers’ fortune at least two percent more than expected. It’s clearly blaming us for not handling things well, worried that there will be accidents in the last night parade. The minister has already spoken, what can we do? We can only bite the bullet and disregard the loss of our Dao practice. Otherwise, in the next assessment by the Ministries of Rites and Justice, no one will escape punishment.”

Song Xu asked, “Hua Jing, has anyone been causing trouble along the way?”

The nascent soul realm sword cultivator said indifferently, “Go back and look at the intelligence yourself.”

Song Xu was accustomed to this. This Yuan Huajing, nicknamed Night Wolf, was the leader of five cultivators from another small faction.

The two sides were incompatible and usually didn’t get along. Only on the battlefield would they cooperate seamlessly.

Yuan Huajing frowned slightly, discovering that a dozen or so battlefield souls ahead were showing signs of dissipating. He said in a deep voice, “Du Jian, are you blind?”

A young man in the rear, with a pale face and chapped, bleeding lips, dressed as a cavalry soldier, was already exhausted. He had been dozing off on horseback, trying to recuperate his spiritual energy. He was simply too mentally exhausted. However, hearing Yuan Huajing’s words, he rose without hesitation, tapping his toes and darting forward. He raised a palm high, twisting his wrist, and strings of gentle qi appeared between his fingers. He lifted them slightly, and the strings gathered and formed an array in an orderly fashion, gleaming with golden light. It was actually a radiant compass, its light sprinkling down on the ground where the Yin spirits were walking.

The young cavalry soldier flew through the air while holding the compass, sheltering the area. As soon as a wandering soul showed signs of dissipating, it would be illuminated by the treasure light.

Song Xu reminded, “Too much is as bad as too little.”

Yuan Huajing said calmly, “It doesn’t seem to be your place as a golden core to interfere.”

Yuan Huajing’s group, a total of five people, besides him, a nascent soul realm sword cultivator, there was also a ghost cultivator, a yin-yang practitioner, and the remaining two were both self-taught.

They obviously had a heavier killing intent than Song Xu’s group of six.

Song Xu did not take it to heart. Instead, he took the initiative to tell Yuan Huajing about the young hidden official entering the capital and the encounter he had with him and about the strangeness of the messenger Feng Yi.

Yuan Huajing nodded, “I saw several of Ning Yao’s sword lights earlier.”

Song Xu hesitated, then opened his mouth to remind, “Public and private matters should be kept separate.”

This cavalry general was from the Yuan clan, a pillar of the state, and Yuan Huajing’s younger brother was the illegitimate son of the Yuan clan who married the legitimate daughter of the Xu clan of Qingfeng City.

Yuan Huajing sneered, “Just because His Highness the prince is surnamed Song, you think you can interfere so much?”

Song Xu was speechless for a moment, then suddenly laughed, “You should really have a good chat with that Chen Hidden Official.”

Yuan Huajing rarely took the initiative to speak, “You six together, it’s still difficult to deal with?”

Song Xu nodded, “Yu Yu said that he would just be chopped like vegetables. There was a post-battle review. Lu Hui said that those words Chen Ping An spoke had no benefit to the battle and could be completely ignored.”
Yuan Huajing said, “Has the Ministry of Justice, Zhao Yao, still not found a suitable candidate? If it’s that Zhou Haijing, I don’t think she has enough weight.”

Song Xu shook his head. “You’re not unaware of Zheng Qian’s identity. Vice Minister Zhao can only settle for the next best thing, determining aptitudes through Yu Hong and her ‘Questioning Fists’.”

Yuan Huajing frowned. “I’m not optimistic about this female martial artist, Zhou Haijing.”

Song Xu said helplessly, “Then where are we going to find a young peak-realm martial artist who also has the potential to reach the tenth realm? When it comes to martial fortune, we’re already only slightly behind the Central Continent. The embroiderer recruited by the Ministry of Justice before didn’t have her heart in it, and in my opinion, she’s about the same as Zhou Haijing. Besides, she’s from Northern Club-shaped Continent after all, which isn’t quite suitable.”

The vacancy for that pure martial artist actually had a suitable candidate early on, but he was cut short at Shujian Lake.

Otherwise, once the twelve Earthly Branches are fully replenished, according to the meticulous deductions of the Ministry of Justice and the Astronomical Bureau, twelve cultivators and pure martial artists, all under the age of one hundred, could work together to kill an Immortal Realm cultivator other than a swordsman.

The key lies in their endless, interconnected methods to ensure that none of them die, or even drop in realm.

Unfortunately, the linchpin of the formation is precisely that undecided pure martial artist.

Otherwise, during the previous war in the secondary capital, they would not have only killed two Jade Purity Realm demon clan cultivators from the military.

Those two demon clan heads were both beheaded by Yuan Huajing with his flying sword.

These eleven people are all Night Travelers, destined to remain obscure until they establish their sects next year.

Yuan Huajing suddenly turned to look at a mountain ridge and said, “Chen Ping’an, why bother hiding so deliberately? Do you enjoy watching the show that much?”

Chen Ping’an glanced at the young Nascent Soul Realm swordsman but ignored his provocation.

Since arriving here, Chen Ping’an had been circulating the spiritual energy of the five key natal qi residences and the various crown prince peaks.

Yuan Huajing sneered, “Since you’ve chosen to stand by, please move further away. Stop being an eyesore here.”

The mountain and water deities along the way were consuming the carefully accumulated essence of incense, even damaging their golden bodies.

As for cultivators, in addition to depleting accumulated spiritual energy, they might even wear down their cultivation base. And if they were careless, they would even lose the blessings and merits of their ancestors.

Even a swordsman like Yuan Huajing, seemingly doing nothing, was actually using his sword qi to escort this Great Li iron cavalry, constantly expending energy.

Therefore, this task of wandering the underworld at night was a thankless and arduous task for anyone. Afterwards, the Great Li court would of course provide some compensation, but when all was said and done, the losses clearly outweighed the gains.

Yet they still persisted, simply because it was their duty.

The woman riding alongside Han Zhoujin was the ghost cultivator. She asked telepathically, “Have you seen that young Hidden Official? What’s he like?”

Han Zhoujin laughed. “Excellent. He has elegance and the style of a sword immortal.”

The female ghost pouted. “Since he’s here, but only watching from afar, I might not admire him as much as I used to.”

Han Zhoujin explained with a smile, “He’s a sword immortal. Even if he’s also a martial arts grandmaster with masterful boxing skills, what can he do?”

The female ghost nodded, deeply agreeing. “That’s right! That makes sense!”

However, she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

What was wrong with a female ghost feeling amorous? A young man from the same hometown, who had lonely guarded the city walls for many years for the woman he loved, wasn’t she allowed to admire him a little?

With her temper, if she ever met him, she would pounce on him like a ravenous tiger, taking advantage of him as much as she could.

On the mountaintop branch, Chen Ping’an finally carefully observed the specific situation of the thirty thousand heroic souls.

In the next moment, a brilliant sword light pierced the night sky.

It illuminated the earth and the road as bright as day, revealing every detail. But the most unusual thing was that the sword qi was so vast and upright that all the Yin spirits and ghosts on the underworld road were not afraid at all. Even those ghosts whose minds had long been blurred gained a few points of clarity in their eyes, which was contrary to common sense.

In the far distance, the illusory image of a mountain suddenly rose, like the golden body of a cultivator, standing tall on the road.

Ripples appeared beneath the feet of the Wenwu Temple heroes, Yu Yu, and the young monk Houjue, who were leading the way. Under the moonlit night, the waves shimmered, as if… an extra smooth water road had appeared.

It was a wonderful pattern of mountains and water depending on each other, the mountain was full of rich Dao energy, and the water was full of abundant spiritual energy.

Not only that, but the young monk Houjue suddenly lowered his head and turned his head again, surprised to find a golden scripture appearing beneath the feet of the ghost army stretching for several miles behind him.

As all the Yin spirits and ghosts walked on this road, golden lotus flowers bloomed one by one under their feet, swaying gracefully.

Beneath the feet of the Confucian scholar Lu Hui and the Yin spirits following him, there were snow-white words refined from frontier poems, with words linked into sentences, sentences into poems, and poems into roads.

Beneath the feet of Daoist Recorder Ge Ling and several Daoist masters, there were profound Daoist incantations, making the road appear in seven-colored glazed colors.

Yu Yu was shocked to discover that on the road in front of her, in the water light, virtual flying swords as large as boats appeared, paving the road.

The strange phenomena didn’t stop there. When the figure in green began to slowly climb the mountain in the far distance, in an instant, golden silk threads bloomed from his body and floated away, pulling all thirty thousand heroic souls who died on the battlefield.

One person climbed the mountain, pulling them forward.

At the cost of his own merit, he refined countless causal threads, interacting with the thirty thousand Yin spirits, with the green-clothed figure leading the way.

After that, the climbing figure in green became faster and faster, finally riding the wind, like a virtual boat, a ferry, leading thirty thousand heroic souls, wading through mountains and rivers together, flying forward at an unimaginable speed, rushing to the Water and Land Dharma Assembly and the Zhou Tian Grand Ritual.

All the mountain and water deities and cultivators seemed to have nothing to do now.

Just follow.

Even Yuan Huajing, whose Dao heart was as firm as a sword, was stunned and speechless.

Song Xu smiled knowingly. The Hidden Official indeed knew how to “chat.”

Song Xu, the Prince of the Great Li Song Clan, collected his thoughts, cupped his fist and saluted the back figure from afar, his heart filled with admiration.
The female ghost, dazed and silent, finally murmured after a long while, “So much merit, and you’re just discarding it? Even an outsider like me feels sorry for such a losing bargain.”

Han Zhoujin’s eyes sparkled with light, and she said with a smile, “He’s the Hidden Official, after all. Nothing he does is surprising.”

That figure in green robes, upon reaching his destination, simply turned around, clasped his fists deeply towards those heroic spirits of the battlefield, and then transformed into a streak of sword light, departing.

Perhaps within tonight’s night patrol, there were those border cavalry from that snowy road back then, or their comrades-in-arms.

A carriage lagging at the tail of the procession held the Vice Minister of Rites, who, being no cultivator from the mountains, shouldn’t get too close. This Vice Minister of Rites summoned a border army general traveling with him, and after some discussion, everyone, including Song Xu and Yuan Huajing, received an order: no one was to divulge tonight’s events for the time being, until news came from the Ministry of Rites.

Upon a desolate mountain peak in the Jingji region, Chen Ping’an landed, wiping sweat from his brow, and began to sit cross-legged, calming the chaotic aura within his miniature world.

The Old Scholar quietly arrived, chuckling, “You painstakingly saved up a bit of wealth, and you’re just saying you don’t want it anymore?”

His closed-door disciple was thoughtful. Not only did he help guide the way, but he also used a method: before acting, he rectified his heart and made his intentions clear to Heaven and Earth, declaring his identity as a Confucian cultivator, so that he only sacrificed merit and gained none.

Chen Ping’an immediately opened his eyes and smiled, “It comes from Heaven and Earth, so it should be returned to Heaven and Earth, a matter of course. It’s like working hard to earn money; isn’t the point to spend it freely? Besides, I can earn more later.”

The Old Scholar squatted beside him, humming in agreement, letting Chen Ping’an rest for a moment longer, and said with a sudden feeling, “I pity the plum blossoms in the moonlight, unable to bear to sleep all night.”

Chen Ping’an echoed, “Unable to bear to sleep all night, the moon and plum blossoms pity me.”

The Old Scholar slapped his palm with his fist, “Exquisite.”

Chen Ping’an said, “He is, after all, your student, Teacher.”

The Old Scholar laughed, “You brat, there are no outsiders here. What a waste.”

Chen Ping’an simply stopped circulating his breath and took out two jars of his hometown’s glutinous rice wine, one for himself and one for his teacher.

The Old Scholar asked with a smile, “That sword art of escape, is it still not mastered well? Why not consult with Ning girl?”

Chen Ping’an honestly replied, “Teacher, it’s not that I’m too embarrassed to learn this sword art from Ning Yao. With my thick skin, learning from anyone is the same. There’s no need to be coy with Ning Yao. Besides, back when I was practicing fist techniques, I even spread out the manuals on the table and learned the characters and understood the concepts from Ning Yao. But I don’t want Ning Yao to overthink things, like making her feel that her sword practice is too easy and smooth, while I suffer. But honestly, there’s no suffering. Truly, sword practice is much easier than learning fist techniques.”

The Old Scholar said, “It’s just easier by comparison. It’s not easy in truth.”

Then, the Old Scholar stroked his beard and smiled, unable to help but praise, “That is true kindness.”

Just speaking of matters of love between a man and a woman, in terms of understanding, especially the ability to learn and apply, all of his direct disciples – Cui Chan, Zuo You, Jun Qian, and Xiao Qi – probably wouldn’t add up to the disciple beside him.

Chen Ping’an suddenly felt guilty, “It seems I’m always making Teacher travel and work so hard. I’m the one who causes you the most trouble.”

The Old Scholar took a sip of wine and chuckled softly, “Don’t say such foolish things. Don’t say them again, or Teacher will get angry.”

And when he got angry, he couldn’t help but want to scold Zuo You and Jun Qian. Now those two weren’t around, one was at the Sword Qi Great Wall ruins, and the other had run off to the Azure Billow Heaven to see Bai Ye. It was even more unbearable to be unable to scold them.

The Old Scholar rolled his eyes, coughed, and said softly, “Ping’an, Ning girl, for some reason, has spoken. She wants us to go to your senior brother’s residence and have a good old chat.”

Chen Ping’an turned his head, his eyes full of sorrow, “Teacher, what’s going on? Even if I’m making you work hard for me, you can’t do this.”

The Old Scholar tugged at his beard, even more heartbroken, and lifted his wine jar with a dispirited expression, “Drink one, drink one.”

Chen Ping’an complained, “Drink your hammer! You drink it yourself, Teacher.”

The Old Scholar let out a cry of “Oy vey!” and suddenly said, “Oh right, Ping’an, Teacher helped you give that betrothal gift at the inn earlier. Ning girl accepted it, but she also said that the wedding banquet has to be held in Ascension City first.”

Chen Ping’an’s eyes lit up, “Teacher, drink one, drink one!”

The Old Scholar waved his arm, lamenting his fate, “Drink your hammer! You drink it yourself, Teacher.”

Chen Ping’an insisted on clinking wine jars with his teacher, “Teacher, your contribution is great! Absolutely not!”

After drinking his wine, the Old Scholar said, “Oh right, Ning girl still needs to go to the Confucian Temple with me. Some things need to be said by the Sage of Rites. It’s not that the Sage of Rites is putting on airs and doesn’t want to travel to Treasure Bottle Continent personally, but since it’s a matter of discussing serious business, it’s more proper to do so at the Merit Forest. Ping’an, don’t worry, we’re all family. The Sage of Rites wouldn’t make things difficult for anyone, least of all Ning girl. This trip won’t take too much time.”

Chen Ping’an nodded gently, without any objections.

The teacher and disciple drank their wine on the mountaintop and returned together to the small alley in the capital. The inn could be forgotten.

The old Nascent Soul cultivator blocked their way once more, frowning, “Chen Ping’an, it’s fine if it’s you and Ning Yao, but bringing an outsider is against the rules.”

Zhao Duanming didn’t dare help his newly recognized Chen brother on such matters.

The Old Scholar looked at the young man and asked with a smile, “This young talent, has he been struck by lightning several times?”

Zhao Duanming nodded, “A hero doesn’t dwell on past glories, less than ten times.”

Chen Ping’an explained with a smile, “He is my teacher, not an outsider.”

Liu Jia asked doubtfully, “Which teacher?”

The Old Scholar tugged at his collar and flicked his sleeves.

Chen Ping’an continued, “He is my lineage’s teacher, the teacher of Senior Brother Cui and Teacher Qi.”

The old cultivator’s face was full of disbelief, and he became uneasy, unable to speak for a time.

Even though the statue of the Sage of Culture had long been moved out of the Central Earth Confucian Temple, unable to eat cold pork head meat for many years, for a mountain cultivator like Liu Jia, a Confucian sage who once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the Sage of Rites and the Second Sage, a Confucian sage who was able to teach Embroidery Tiger Cui Chan, Sword Immortal Zuo You, and Teacher Qi… when someone who was originally a distant figure really stood before them, the only choice was to be uneasy and unable to say a word. There was no other option.
Zhao Duanming, using a silent transmission of thought, inquired, “Brother Chen, is he truly the Literary Sage?”

Chen Ping’an nodded and smiled, “What else could he be?”

Zhao Duanming immediately bowed deeply, “A disciple of the Zhao Clan of Tianshui, Great Li Dynasty, Zhao Duanming, pays respects to the Literary Sage!”

The Old Scholar chuckled, “Immortal Master Liu, Duanming, there’s no need for such formality.”

Liu Jia cupped his fist, his voice trembling, “Liu Jia greets the Literary Sage.”

The Old Scholar waved his hand. He and Chen Ping’an walked along the alley. Reaching the courtyard gate, which was unlocked, Chen Ping’an pushed it open. Turning back, he saw his teacher standing outside, hesitating to cross the threshold.

Chen Ping’an halted, quietly waiting for his teacher.

The Old Scholar gazed into the courtyard, his feet remaining still, muttering to himself, “Since your luck was so poor, becoming my first disciple, then your teacher won’t say you’ve had it easy. Some things, were not done right by this teacher.”

Within the gate, an old friend. Outside the gate, an old man. From ancient times, sages and worthies have been lonely.

In the end, the Old Scholar didn’t enter the much-lauded building, but instead sat on a stone bench in the courtyard outside the book pavilion. Chen Ping’an brought some books from the book pavilion and placed them on the table. The Old Scholar drank wine, slowly turning the pages.

These were mostly the Old Scholar’s works from before he became the Literary Sage. They were mostly first editions, crudely printed and lacking refinement. Yet, the pages were exceptionally clean, as if brand new. And on the title page of each book, there were no collector’s seals from later readers, nor any annotations or marginal notes.

Chen Ping’an sat on the threshold of the book pavilion, breathing deeply, closing his eyes to rest. He heard only the rustling of pages as his teacher read.

Finally, the Old Scholar turned to a page, to the contents of the “Dispelling Obscurations” chapter. The Old Scholar closed the book, slipping it into his sleeve.

A peaceful and silent night passed. Only the bright moon drifted away, and the great sun rose, bathing the world in light. “Sword, Come!”