Within the confines of Mount Luopo, the air was crisp and invigorating. The courtyard of a residence was nearly covered, not an inch to spare, with large bamboo-woven sieves and willow winnowing baskets, all laden with drying red chilies, a vibrant crimson sea.

Beneath the eaves of the corridor, Zhu Lian reclined on a rocking chair, eyes closed in repose, gently fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan.

Cen Yuanji, having completed her daily martial arts practice along the mountain path, came to sit for a while.

She enjoyed conversing with Old Mister Zhu, not only because he had brought her up the mountain, guiding her onto the path of martial arts, but also because on Mount Luopo, she regarded him as her only family elder.

The old gentleman would often advise her to descend the mountain more often, to visit her parents back in the prefecture city, telling her not to be impatient even if they urged her to marry, and not to consider Mount Luopo as a place to escape the world’s troubles.

Some things, he said, could not be avoided. Even if one could escape present worries, one could not escape future regrets.

The most futile endeavor in life, he believed, was dwelling on regret.

Wandering sojourners were like drifting kites. Only the longing in one’s heart served as the string. If a person lost all attachment to family and homeland, they would truly become a kite with a severed string. Then all joys and sorrows would be like the grass on the plains, withering and flourishing beyond one’s control. The old gentleman even said Cen Yuanji was fortunate, being so close to home, the journey back just a few steps away. But proximity also brought its own set of worries.

Cen Yuanji enjoyed confiding in Old Mister Zhu because he never assumed the airs of an elder when reasoning with her, never insisting that she immediately grasp the principles he espoused.

Zhu Lian chuckled and asked, “Yuanji, how many punches have you accumulated over these years of training?”

Cen Yuanji replied, “As of the beginning of spring this year, it reached two million punches. I stopped counting after that.”

Zhu Lian inquired further, “Why did you stop counting? Did you find it meaningless, or did you simply forget one day and become too lazy to resume?”

Cen Yuanji honestly stated, “Deliberately keeping count distracts me during practice. It feels as if I’m practicing only for the sake of a number.”

Zhu Lian nodded. “Very good. Young Master once told me privately that the moment Miss Cen stopped consciously counting her punches would mark the point when her fist techniques entered the inner sanctum.”

Cen Yuanji said, “Young Master’s talent for learning martial arts is indeed far superior to mine.”

She had to grudgingly admit this fact.

Zhu Lian asked, “Anything else?”

Cen Yuanji honestly shook her head. “Nothing else.”

Zhu Lian chuckled. “People, after all, tend to favor those they favor and dislike those they dislike.”

A rather roundabout way of putting it.

However, Cen Yuanji was not unintelligent; she understood.

Cen Yuanji explained, “I don’t dislike Chen Mountain Lord. He’s quite alright, it’s just that my first impression of him was a bit off, making him hard to like. Later on the mountain, I didn’t interact with him much because I simply didn’t know what to say when we met.”

“Understandable.”

Zhu Lian nodded. “Yuanji, to be honest, Young Master has always been optimistic about your prospects in martial arts. If he didn’t know you would refuse and worry that you might overthink things, he would have already taken you as a personal disciple, like Zhao Shuxia. This optimism isn’t based on the expectation that you or Zhao Shuxia will necessarily achieve great heights in martial arts in the future. It’s simply that among the martial practitioners on Mount Luopo, Young Master sees two distinct types: one focuses on the fist, the other on the heart. The former quickly grasps the essence of fist intent, comprehends the principles of fist techniques, and attains mastery swiftly, while the latter is relatively inconspicuous, persistent, and unconcerned with the opinions or gazes of others.”

Cen Yuanji was somewhat surprised and softly acknowledged, “Young Master’s thinking is quite profound.”

Cen Yuanji sat on a bamboo chair beside the corridor, and Zhu Lian fanned himself with more vigor.

Zhu Lian, with a smile, murmured, “The willow by the post office is yellow, the creek swells and turns green, the person is like a green mountain, the heart like water. The green mountain stands upright like a taut string, still possessing a source and a direction. A solitary life, distracted, is truly sorrowful.”

Cen Yuanji felt a faint sense of sadness just listening to his words.

Zhu Lian turned his head and smiled. “Yuanbao likes Cao Qinglang, doesn’t she?”

Cen Yuanji suppressed a smile and nodded. “She likes Cao Qinglang very much, but she doesn’t know how to express it. Whenever Cao Qinglang is guarding the gate, reading a book, Yuanbao will deliberately quicken her pace, hastily turning to climb the mountain and practice her punches.”

Zhu Lian continued, “Then that boy Yuanlai secretly likes you. Are you secretly aware of it?”

Cen Yuanji blushed slightly. “I know, but I don’t like him.”

Zhu Lian put down his fan and softly said, “One who has seen the sea finds it hard to be impressed by mere water, one who is consumed by infatuation finds it hard to be content with mere affection.”

“The joys and sorrows of love between a man and a woman are nothing more than the beloved becoming a memory, or the cherished one becoming a bedfellow.”

To Cen Yuanji, even if the words were the same, they carried vastly different meanings when spoken by Old Mister Zhu versus Zheng Dafeng.

One was a kind old man weathered by time, the other a lecherous rogue who couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. Fortunately, Zheng Dafeng had the desire but not the courage, never laying a hand on her.

Cen Yuanji suddenly said, “Mountain Lord has gone on another journey far away.”

Zhu Lian hummed in agreement, slowly saying, “When one person is busy, the world can find leisure.”

The number of shopkeepers and employees in the two shops in Qilong Alley was steadily increasing.

The substitute manager of the Year-End Gift Shop, Shi Rou, Zhou Junchen, nicknamed A Man, and recently, a white-haired child named Konghou had been added.

The substitute manager of the neighboring Herbal Shop was a blind old Daoist priest, Jia Sheng, an old immortal in the Dragon Gate Realm. Besides the master and disciple pair, Zhao Denggao and Tian Jiuer, a girl named Cui Huasheng had arrived, claiming to be Cui Dongshan’s younger sister, nearly causing Chen Lingjun to die of laughter.

Chen Lingjun, having finished chatting with Brother Bai at the pavilion earlier, sauntered into the town, swaggered into the Year-End Gift Shop, and greeted loudly, “Konghou, Old Sis!”

Konghou, who was being addressed by Chen Lingjun with the nickname “Old Sis,” was none other than the Ascension Realm extraterrestrial demon with the appearance of a child, the Dao Companion of Wu Shuangjiang of the Sui Chu Palace.

The white-haired child was temporarily an outer disciple of Mount Luopo, helping out at the shop.

He had given himself a pseudonym, calling himself Konghou.

But Chen Lingjun had no idea what realm this pitiful, short-statured, white-haired child was in, nor did he know his identity, background, or who his backer was.

He only knew that it was a little girl that his master had picked up during his travels. Chen Lingjun had his own calculations. When Pei Qian and Xiao Mili were brought back to town by his master, they didn’t have much cultivation.

Right now, the white-haired child was facing away from Chen Lingjun, munching on a pastry, one in his mouth, two in his hands, his eyes fixed on a large pile.

He was busy.
Having no time to bother with the boisterous youth in azure robes, A’Man glanced at the white-haired child, whose conduct was only a shade better than outright embezzlement. The child, brimming with resentment, had even abandoned her vow of silence. “Eat, eat, eat! All you do is record, record, record! Record a hammer’s worth of accounts! With her meager salary, how will she ever fill the hole? And the Mountain Lord is a miserly sort, always checking the books every few days. In the end, it’s our Proprietress who suffers.”

A’Man still couldn’t contain his anger. “Even a pebble tossed into water makes a sound, but you eat without a peep. That’s quite a skill.”

Sister Shi Rou worked tirelessly from dawn till dusk, barely earning a few coins. Those coins could have become precious silver, but alas, a heartless glutton had arrived, turning them all into debt figures on the ledger.

Furthermore, this little girl seemed to have a screw loose. She often wandered around the backyard alone, spinning in circles, raising her arms and shouting slogans like, “Hidden Official Ancestor, Shakes the Jianghu, Martial Prowess Unmatched!” and “Hidden Official Ancestor, Unrivaled in Handsome Appearance, Sword Skills Unbeatable!”

A’Man had long wanted to take her to see a physician.

Hearing the little mute’s complaints, the white-haired child not only ignored them but deliberately shook her head.

A’Man was so infuriated that he wanted to argue with her. If she wasn’t just a little slip of a girl, one punch would send her flying… and he’d have to pay for her medicine again.

Shi Rou smiled, “We’re all family here. Why fuss over such trifles?”

Chen Lingjun, upon hearing that the little mute dared to speak ill of his master, was enraged. He placed his hands on his hips, glaring, and said, “Zhou Jünchen, watch your tongue! I know your master, we’re of the same generation. And your master knows all the butchers in town. Think carefully about that!”

A’Man chuckled. “You know my master? I even know my master’s master! What if I’m not careful? Are you going to hit me?”

If there was one good thing about Fallen Phoenix Mountain, it was that cultivation realms didn’t matter much.

Shi Rou patted the child’s head gently, saying, “Family members shouldn’t speak harsh words to each other.”

In truth, Shi Rou wasn’t afraid of many people on Fallen Phoenix Mountain, except for Cui Dongshan. He was capable of saying the most bizarre and hurtful things, like… “flicking birds.”

But that was a shameful old story. He had improved greatly in recent years, especially when the Mountain Lord was home. Cui Dongshan always greeted everyone with a smile.

Cui Dongshan had recently brought back a younger sister, Cui Huasheng, and had even given Shi Rou a sandalwood comb with three characters engraved on it: “Missing Beauty.”

A’Man stood on a small stool, leaning on the counter with a stern face, and extended a hand to Chen Lingjun. “Stop with the nonsense. If you have the ability, pay off her debt. Then she can eat as much as she wants. If she finishes it all, I’ll personally make more. If she thinks it’s not delicious, she can scold me as much as she likes.”

Chen Lingjun raised his sleeves. “Damn it! This old man has weathered countless storms and hardships in his life, enough to fill several baskets, and I don’t care to talk about them. The only thing I haven’t stumbled on is money! Speak, how much silver?!”

The white-haired child turned her head, her cheeks bulging, and said indistinctly, “Don’t! Just let it be a debt. It’s not like I won’t pay it back. Better to owe money than to owe a favor.”

Chen Lingjun approached the white-haired child. If the Great White Goose hadn’t revealed her secret, he wouldn’t have been able to tell she was a girl.

Her name wasn’t always this; it was Zhi Lan.

Then Chen Lingjun became unhappy. After much persuasion, he convinced her to change her name to Konghou.

“Little sister, listen to Brother Chen’s advice. For a girl’s name, it’s best not to have the grass radical.”

Long ago, in the Sui Chu Palace, there was a female official named Tian Ran, with the Daoist title Phoenix Head.

Her most beloved possession was a konghou, with a dragon body and phoenix shape, decorated with golden tassels and jade green algae.

The white-haired child, with bulging cheeks, said indistinctly, “Stop calling me little sister, little sister. It sounds terrible. Change the way you address me.”

Chen Lingjun said with difficulty, “But you don’t have a [male organ]! I really can’t bring myself to call you little brother.”

The white-haired child said unhappily, “Get lost.”

Chen Lingjun had no choice but to go next door to find Old Brother Jia for a drink.

Old Brother Jia was full of Jianghu wisdom, saying that those sycophants only put on a show of grandeur.

Since ancient times, people are busy but spirits are not. Therefore, it’s even more necessary to steal some leisure time from the busyness. He also said that he used to be a handsome and suave young man, but unfortunately, he had a dissolute life without knowing the hardships of the world.

Wasn’t this much more refined than the gossiping of the village women and bachelors?

The two brothers, one familiar with the place and the other familiar with the path, quickly set up a drinking session. Sitting opposite each other, they drank. Today, Chen Lingjun brought two jars of fine wine. Old Immortal Jia slurped a mouthful, shuddered, and said, “Good wine, good wine!”

Chen Lingjun sat cross-legged on a long bench and chuckled, “Two shivers for drinking and peeing.”

The old immortal wiped his mouth with his thumb. “Three is the right number.”

The old and the young laughed heartily, drinking and drinking.

Jia Sheng came from a small vassal state in the Central Lands, a place called Bozhou. He said that his hometown had been a land of wine since ancient times, where even sparrows could drink two liang.

To the point that even the little mute next door had learned to curse, saying he was not as good as a Bozhou sparrow.

Chen Lingjun suddenly frowned, put down his wine bowl, and said telepathically, “Several cultivators with considerable strength have arrived in Riding Dragon Lane. Old Brother Jia, you go to the backyard first. If you confirm they’re not here to cause trouble, then you can come out to entertain the guests.”

The blind old Daoist smiled. “It’s no problem. Let this old man meet them…”

Chen Lingjun said, “At least three Nascent Soul Realm cultivators.”

The old Daoist immediately got up. “I’ll take the wine and peanuts with me to the backyard, and secretly notify the Law Enforcer.”

Chen Lingjun nodded, put on his boots, and walked to the entrance of the shop alone, reminding Shi Rou telepathically to be careful and keep Konghou and A’Man in check. No matter what happened next, don’t show your faces.

The three guests, two men and one woman, were all unfamiliar faces.

One was a young man with a refined and cultured demeanor. One was a stout man with an ancient appearance, carrying a heavy cotton cloth package slung across his body.

And there was a tall woman, not exactly a beauty, but heroic and valiant, with a long saber with a white poplar wood hilt hanging at her waist.

The three walked down from the top of Riding Dragon Lane. The woman said telepathically, “This place indeed has a strong water current and dense dragon energy, which is unusual. No wonder the Master decided to stay here in the first place.”

In the Longzhou territory, besides the Iron Talisman River with extremely high official rank, there were also the three rivers of Chongdan, Jade Liquid and Embroidery, that converged in Red Candle Town.

It’s just that now the Iron Talisman River Water God, Yang Hua, had transferred to serve in that great river.

The young man smiled, “Daoist Friend Lingjun.”

Chen Lingjun asked in confusion, “Who are you?”
The young man reached up and wiped his face, dispelling the illusion and revealing his “true appearance” in this small town.

Chen Lingjun chuckled, “So it’s Master Chen, long time no see.”

He recognized the man, but they hadn’t interacted much.

This fellow had once served as a teacher at the Chen Clan’s private school near Dragon Tail Creek. Rumor had it he was a notorious drunkard, and soon after, he left for distant travels. Because he wasn’t particularly famous, and his teaching skills were mediocre, no one at the school paid much attention to him.

Since Pei Qian had attended the school as a child, Chen Lingjun, worried about her, had secretly lurked by the wall to catch a glimpse of the old master. He seemed to be called Chen Zhenrong. The big white goose had said that this out-of-town old gent came from the Southern Jambudvipa and had a good relationship with the Sage Ruan Qiong.

The two people accompanying the old master began to introduce themselves. The robust man called himself Luo Shan, a woodcutter, going by the Daoist name of Songzhi (Pine Resin).

The woman smiled sincerely and said straightforwardly, “I’m Qin Buyi, from the Misty Cloud Prefecture in the Central Lands.”

Chen Lingjun felt his head throbbing. What woodcutter? What Misty Cloud? This was making Master Chen dizzy, wasn’t it? If the Old Master (Chen Ping An) were here, he wouldn’t have any trouble speaking.

A brilliant idea struck him, and Chen Lingjun shouted, “Old Brother Jia, we have distinguished guests at the shop!”

The blind old Daoist immediately rushed out, eagerly playing host. Luckily, there was a wine table, and Immortal Jia sat on the same long bench as Chen Lingjun.

Aside from the taciturn Luo Yang woodcutter, who drank quite a bit, both Old Master Chen and Qin Buyi were straightforward people, speaking freely and openly. Immortal Jia, while secretly pondering their motives, kept smiling and offering wine. He quickly figured things out: the wooden man who went by Songzhi was merely passing through, intending to visit Bao Fu Zhai on Ox Horn Mountain. Qin Buyi, having heard that there were many pure martial artists on Fallen Phoenix Mountain, including a Martial Arts Appraiser, wasn’t looking for instruction or sparring. She was simply curious and wanted to take a look around.

Immortal Jia said that wouldn’t be difficult, but he needed to inform Fallen Phoenix Mountain beforehand. He then praised his own mountain, saying the aura was auspicious, vibrant and verdant. The weathering was exceptionally beautiful, and Confucianism thrived there. He dared not use superlative terms, lest he be accused of boastful self-promotion.

Qin Buyi asked with a smile, “Shopkeeper Jia, may I ask, what kind of person is your Mountain Lord?”

Jia Sheng took a sip of wine and chuckled, “Speaking of our Mountain Lord, I can’t be modest. He is gentle and amiable, his words are pleasant, his actions are upright, and his demeanor is harmonious.”

The old master, whose real name was actually Chen Rong, smiled wryly.

This could be considered a lofty, unattainable compliment.

Qin Buyi asked with a smile, “Does Shopkeeper Jia highly admire Master Nanfeng?”

Chen Lingjun was utterly confused.

Jia Sheng put down his wine bowl, stroked his beard, and smiled. “Not at all. It’s actually my Mountain Lord who greatly admires the writings of Master Zeng. He often advises me to read more, especially Master Nanfeng’s prose, which is thorough and well-reasoned, with an elegant style and profound meaning. At first glance, it may seem unremarkable, but it is endlessly rewarding.”

Qin Buyi laughed, “I wouldn’t have thought that your Mountain Lord would be so fond of Master Nanfeng’s essays. That’s quite unexpected.”

Compared to Bai Ye, Su Zi, and Liu Qi, Master Zeng’s prose wasn’t as widely celebrated.

Immortal Jia immediately explained with a smile, “It’s not that he *only* likes them, relatively speaking. Our Mountain Lord values the saying ‘opening a book is beneficial.’ He often jokes that because his family was poor when he was young, he couldn’t attend school. So, later in his cultivation journey, he often traveled far from home, just to make up for that lost schooling.”

Qin Buyi and the man who called himself the Luo Shan woodcutter exchanged a smile.

The wine gathering was quite pleasant. Chen Rong, the pure Confucian from the Chen Clan of the Southern Jambudvipa, took his two friends to find an inn and settle in, waiting for news from Fallen Phoenix Mountain.

Chen Lingjun got flustered whenever he saw a stranger.

Fortunately, he had Old Brother Jia to rely on, who was fearless when dealing with anyone outside the wine table.

Years ago, when Wei Xian and Lu Baixiang passed through Riding Dragon Lane and sat here for a while, Old Brother Jia ran into Wei Xian and was utterly intimidated. Later, Pei Qian revealed the truth, and everyone realized what a joke Wei Xian’s so-called “capacity” was.

After seeing them off to the end of Riding Dragon Lane, Chen Lingjun returned to the shop and jumped up to pat Old Brother Jia on the shoulder, “You chatted well.”

Immortal Jia stroked his beard and smiled, “When it comes to interacting with people, I dare not say I have half the skills of our Mountain Lord, but two or three tenths, I certainly have.”

Zhang Ming, the Law Enforcer in a snow-white robe, slowly walked down the stairs from Riding Dragon Lane and stopped at the entrance. There was a slight smile on her face.

This woman smiled all year round, but no one thought she was easy to talk to. Even A Man, the fearless kid from the shop next door, would clam up when he encountered Zhang Ming, becoming a little mute.

But today, the smile on Zhang Ming’s face seemed genuine. Overwhelmed by this rare favor, Immortal Jia dared not be carried away. He immediately bowed his head and, facing the doorway, lightly waved his hands a few times. Then, with a gliding step and a sideways turn, he extended one hand, his smile radiant, “Law Enforcer, please come inside, please come inside.”

Zhang Ming leaned against the door, nodded to the blind old Daoist, and then said to Chen Lingjun, “These people are probably here for you.”

Chen Lingjun was struck by lightning. He stomped his foot, angrily shook his sleeves, and wailed, “What kind of karma is this! It can’t be, who have I offended? I’m kind to everyone, I wouldn’t dare step on an ant on the road.”

A Man, sitting in front of the shop next door, stood up, crossed his arms, and asked, “Should I tell Pei Qian?”

Chen Lingjun’s eyes darted around. Finding Pei Qian would be effective, but the problem was, Pei Qian liked to keep accounts the most.

One couldn’t be too tight-fisted, could one?

Zhang Ming cracked some melon seeds and smiled, “Just because they’re here for you doesn’t mean it’s bad news.”

Chen Lingjun coughed and waved his hand at A Man, “Go away, little kid, don’t interfere in adult matters.”

A Man twitched his lips and turned to leave.

Chen Lingjun added, “I appreciate the thought. Next time you go to my brother Li Jin’s shop to buy books, just mention my name.”

Mentioning his name was, of course, useless. After all, mentioning his own Old Master’s name wouldn’t get a discount either.

But he could secretly make a trip to Red Candle Town, pay for the books in advance, and then have Li Jin pretend to give the little mute a discount when he went to buy them.
“This little matter, surely wouldn’t trouble you, esteemed God of the Rushing Rivers?”

“If you really can’t even grant this small favor, how can you hope to navigate the world? Eh? Does this old man Chen need to teach you a thing or two?”

Great Li Capital, Copper Camel Ward.

An old scholar, his clothes worn and faded, squatted in an alleyway, having just finished a game of chess.

His opponent earned a pittance playing chess, while the old scholar seemed to be acting as a benevolent deity, scattering coins like blessings.

Weiqi (Go) took too long for a single game, so the alley was mostly filled with Xiangqi (Chinese Chess). Some relied on genuine skill to win money, while others set up devious old puzzles and trickery to swindle unsuspecting players.

The old scholar stood up, kneading his wrist and hopping twice. “I’ll need to get serious now,” he muttered.

It was infuriating, not only was he losing money, but several old men nearby, fond of backseat-gaming, were also berating him as a “chess nincompoop.”

The young man who had been winning a considerable sum, sat with a beaming, sly grin. Short and somewhat homely, he only worried that the impoverished old scholar wouldn’t have enough money in his pouch.

The old scholar squatted down again, taking a deep breath. But after the next game, he was forced to reach for his coin purse once more.

The old man’s chess etiquette was… difficult to describe. His skill at taking back moves was even greater than his chess proficiency.

Almost every three or five moves, he would loudly proclaim, “Allow me to retract a move!” Or, “Alas! I placed the piece in the wrong spot. Age has dulled my eyes, you see.”

Eventually, the young man grew accustomed to it. As soon as the old scholar looked up, he knew a negotiation was coming. It was simple enough: a move once played could not be taken back, there was no room for discussion.

Fortunately, he paid readily enough, accepting defeat. His chess skills were poor, his etiquette worse, but his willingness to pay was passable.

The old man still seemed somewhat unconvinced, “If my student were here, I would certainly not lose!”

The young man chuckled, “Old sir, just call your student over! We can even raise the stakes!”

The old scholar stroked his beard and sighed, “That’s precisely the problem, I can’t summon him!”

The young man jokingly inquired, “Could it be that the old sir is a teacher, with pupils scattered across the land?”

He looked quite destitute, with a worn cotton money pouch, currently appearing rather emaciated. After removing the copper coins, there certainly wouldn’t be many slivers of silver left.

The old scholar smiled, “Students I may not have many, but each is accomplished, surpassing their master!”

The young man asked with a smile, “Among the old sir’s prized students, might there even be successful candidates of the Imperial Examinations, perhaps a *Jinshi* or a *Juren*?”

What a pointed question.

The old scholar was briefly speechless.

Across two generations of teachers and students, success in the Imperial Examinations was truly their only weakness.

It seemed that all he had was his own *Xiucai* degree, and that was the end of it.

Luckily, among his student’s students, there was Cao Qinglang, a truly promising talent. Fortunate indeed!

Seeing the old man shake his head,

The spark of enthusiasm and hope in the young man’s eyes vanished almost immediately.

He had briefly imagined encountering a retired elder statesman, an official from the Great Li court.

Winning money was far too easy for the chess-playing man, to the point that when the old scholar hesitated over a move or regretted playing a piece, the young man would lean against the wall and pull out a well-printed book from his robes. He would casually flip through a few pages to pass the time, though he had already memorized the content thoroughly.

The old scholar asked with a smile, “Young friend, are you a *Juren* here to take the Imperial Examinations?”

The man shook his head. “Not yet. I’m here in the capital to participate in the Autumn Examinations. My ancestral home is in the Hua Province, but my family moved near the capital. I can barely be considered a half-local. The traveling expenses were enough, but I couldn’t resist buying a couple of rare books, so I had to come here and set up a chess stall. Otherwise, without any relatives or friends in the capital, I wouldn’t be able to survive until the provincial exam.”

The old scholar said, “To be inscribed on the list of successful candidates, and celebrate with a Deer Cry Banquet, that would be perfect.”

“How can you be so sure? Perhaps the old sir can read fortunes?”

“Fortune-telling, I know a little. But the sages have said, ‘There are no fortune tellers of people in ancient times, and those who are learned do not speak of it.'”

“Just a little advertisement, the book-chasing app I’ve been using recently allows caching and offline reading!”

The man paused, then burst out laughing, waving the recently unbanned book of sages. “Well said! I didn’t expect the old sir to be a kindred spirit.”

The old scholar stroked his beard and smiled. “Indeed, indeed. I didn’t expect such wisdom from someone so young.”

The man rolled up the book, cupped his fist in greeting. “In any case, I’ll take the old sir’s kind words to heart. If I truly pass the provincial examination, I’ll treat the old sir to a drink.”

The old scholar smiled without responding.

The man put away the book, tucked into his sleeve. Seeing the old scholar still smiling at him, he slapped his forehead, and said, “I almost forgot to tell the old sir, my name is Lu Lingchang. On the day the results are announced, if I pass as a *Juren*, I’ll set up a stall here and wait for the old sir. If I don’t, I’ll just head back home.”

“That’s wonderful.”

The old scholar nodded. “Brother Lu, allow me to say a few more words. A good appearance is not necessarily indicative of fortune, talent should be tempered with restraint.”

Lu Lingchang smiled and nodded in agreement, not taking it too seriously. *Once I pass the provincial exam and the Imperial Examinations, and become an official, then we can talk about talent and virtue.*

The old scholar got up to leave. Lu Lingchang squatted on the ground, and when the old scholar turned his head after taking a few steps, the man smiled and waved goodbye.

The old scholar sighed, put his hands behind his back, and slowly walked away.

“The northern wind blows pestilence, the southern wind brings death. This life is trapped in adversity, suffering is truly my teacher.”

“Young and ignorant, old and lazy, learning brings either one or ten omissions. Land and sea frozen, the sky filled with cold clouds, but the sight of plum blossoms clears the eyes.”

The old scholar was filled with poetic inspiration, feeling that it was a wonderful poem. Even if Brother Baiye were here, he would have to restrain himself from applauding with praise.

Near the alley where the “Word Passes Word” tavern was located, Li Xisheng was accompanied by his page, Cui Ci, traveling through the Great Li Capital.

After returning to the Northern Continent from the Central Earth, Li Xisheng continued his studies in that vassal kingdom. An old teacher suddenly came to visit, and afterwards, Li Xisheng encountered a young Daoist priest and an old abbot on his journey south.

In truth, this reunion was slightly awkward for Li Xisheng.

The old abbot of the East Sea Daoist Temple, however, was quite delighted.

Now, this Confucian scholar, Li Xisheng, was once again facing his master, the Daoist Ancestor. Should he offer a Daoist bow, or a Confucian greeting?

In the end, Li Xisheng first gave the Daoist Ancestor a Daoist bow, then stepped back and performed a Confucian greeting.

Afterwards, Li Xisheng, along with Cui Ci, rushed to the capital. The commotion here had been far too great, and Li Xisheng had felt the reverberations, even from the distant Northern Continent.

The Great Li cavalry, were unmatched.

The world trembled, yet the people were not afraid.
At the mouth of the alley, Liu Jia saw the Confucian-robed man, exuding an air of refinement, standing outside. Then, he stepped toward the alley.

The old cultivator immediately glanced at his disciple.

The youth responded with a look, “What?”

Seeing his lack of perception, the old cultivator asked telepathically, “Should we stop him?”

Zhao Duanming replied mentally, “I don’t recognize him anyway.”

“Are you sure? Take another look?”

“Master, I truly don’t recognize him.”

“There are so many portraits of sages enshrined in the Confucian Temple. Think harder, boy. Show a little of the discerning eye a scion of the Heavenly Waters Zhao Clan should possess.”

“Master, aren’t you being a bit much? I really don’t recognize him. He doesn’t look familiar at all!”

“Duanming, swear an oath.”

“Master, that’s enough. Otherwise, our master-disciple bond might truly fray.”

Liu Jia felt relieved and revealed himself, asking, “Who goes there?”

Li Xisheng smiled, “My name is Li Xisheng. My hometown is Huaihuang County in Great Li Dragon Province.”

Liu Jia’s expression softened. “Then you are a fellow townsman of Chen Ping’an. I apologize, but you must stop here.”

Actually, a tall old Daoist priest had come before, accompanied by a young Daoist disciple who was likely his student.

They had also appeared here, pausing outside the alley, the old and the young standing shoulder to shoulder, peering into the alley.

Of course, Liu Jia had stopped them. Acting all sneaky, it was simply unacceptable.

Since they were Daoist practitioners, it was his duty. What was there to fear?

Besides, those two Daoists weren’t wearing the robes of the Three Veins of Jade Capital.

In Chen Nuan Shu’s house, a calendar and a large chart hung on the wall.

There was also a small booklet, one for each year, bound together on New Year’s Eve, with three hundred and fifty-six pages, one for each day.

She would keep a daily account, and Nuan Shu would also record any interesting trivialities she heard or saw.

Therefore, on the Fallen Phoenix Mountain, the thickest ledgers and the most numerous booklets belonged to Nuan Shu, not Pei Qian, and certainly not Xiao Mili, who only recorded every expense on melon seeds.

Every day, besides sweeping the courtyard, she had to tend to the flowers and plants, categorize the ever-increasing collection of books on the mountain, and when there were enough books, choose a day to air them out. She helped Old Man Zhu find old bamboo in his bamboo forest on the mountain to carve bamboo sculptures. She picked seasonal wild vegetables, brewed her own wine, and cured pickled vegetables and meats. The several mountain paths that Xiao Mili patrolled also needed tending, to prevent the overgrowth of weeds. When the end of the year arrived, besides cutting paper snowflakes for window decorations, she had to ask Old Man Zhu or Master Zhong to write Spring Festival couplets and then paste them together with Xiao Mili. In addition, she had to pay respects to the Kitchen God and see off the God of Poverty.

So many vassal mountain peaks often had construction projects, which required her to wear her sword talisman, fly out on the wind, descend at the foot of the mountain, and bring tea and snacks to the craftsmen. During festivals, she had to visit places like the Ao Yu Back and the Yidai Peak on the mountain. In earlier times, there was also Master Ruan’s Dragon Spring Sword Sect, and there were also many elderly neighbors in the town below the mountain who needed to be visited from time to time. She also had to learn bookkeeping from Teacher Wei and regularly go down to Dragon Province to purchase supplies.

As for Old Master’s Mud Bottle Alley, besides cleaning the ancestral home, the two neighboring houses, although unoccupied, also needed attention to the roofs and mud walls. If it could be repaired, she would repair it.

Because the number of people on Fallen Phoenix Mountain was increasing, she needed to deal with the county government frequently regarding household registration matters. For example, recently Konghou from the Lucky Coin Shop and Cui Peanut from the Herbal Shop. At first, Nuan Shu worried that the household registration office in Huaihuang County thought she was just a young girl and wouldn’t handle matters reliably, so she would call Old Man Zhu to go down the mountain with her. Later, Sword Immortal Yu Mi also helped, taking the initiative to go to the county town with her. But now it was no longer needed, as the household registration office was very familiar with her. One of those she used to call Uncle Song, now had to be called Grandpa Song. As for the fact that she hadn’t grown taller over the years, they were probably used to it at the county government and wouldn’t say anything about it.

She collected various strange rocks from her many vassal mountain peaks, made them into potted landscapes, and used them as scholar’s objects. Like swallows carrying mud, she constantly moved them into houses that weren’t often inhabited. She also had Old Man Zhu’s own landscape, flower and bird, and figure paintings, which couldn’t be piled up randomly, or it would be vulgar. She also had to consider how to match porcelain, such as using vases for flower arrangements, as the so-called “flower god’s refined abode” for elegant scholars. The first choice was old bronze goblets, followed by several kinds of official porcelain with azure-like skies and delicate textures.

Each house on the mountain needed to have different styles of scholar’s stationery, wardrobes, bookshelves, screens, murals, and different flowers and plants planted according to the owner’s different preferences. Therefore, Nuan Shu built her own flower shed, learning the art of hall flowers from Old Man Zhu and Master Zhong. She would also look up books herself, so her bookshelves were full of such books.

Even as the number of people increased and the number of things to do increased, the mountain, inside and out, was still kept clean and tidy by a little girl in a pink dress.

In addition, Nuan Shu knew almost everything that happened on Fallen Phoenix Mountain, no matter how big or small.

Of course, Xiao Mili often helped, carrying a golden shoulder pole and holding a mountain-climbing staff, following orders!

Today, Mi Yu was wandering around the mountain and found Nuan Shu, who was rarely idle, sitting by the stone table on the cliff, lost in thought.

Mi Yu walked over and asked with a smile, “Nuan Shu, how many years have you been here?”

Nuan Shu quickly got up and gave Sword Immortal Mi a Wanfu bow. After sitting down, she smiled, “Not yet thirty years.”

Mi Yu cracked open a melon seed and asked softly, “Don’t you ever feel bored?”

For more than twenty years, she had been busy like this every day, and the point was that these trivial matters were endless, year after year, day after day.

Even him, who was idle and liked to stay on Fallen Phoenix Mountain to freeload, would occasionally want to go down the mountain to relax, quietly traveling far and wide on his sword, for example, going to the scenery of the Yellow Court during the day and sitting on a flower boat in Red Candle Town at night, and also going to Green Cloud Mountain to drink with Mountain Lord Wei and admire the moon.

Nuan Shu shook her head, “No, I don’t.”

Mi Yu asked, “Aren’t you tired?”

Nuan Shu smiled, “I rest.”

She originally wanted to say that she was half a cultivator, but when she thought of her realm, Nuan Shu was too embarrassed to say it.

Mi Yu was speechless.

In previous years, there was an old-fashioned little boy in green, a mischievous black-skinned girl, a lively and lovely Xiao Mili…

Now, there were Bai Xuan and Konghou who had set up a table in a roadside pavilion.
Yet, the maiden in the pink skirt, Chen Nuanshu, perhaps due to her gentle nature, remained relatively unnoticed.

In truth, just as Chen Lingjun boasted to Immortal Jia, he was among the earliest followers of the Old Master, the most seasoned and least pretentious elder statesman of the Fallen Peak.

Even before Pei Qian recognized her master and the Great White Goose acknowledged its mentor, while the Great Gale brothers were indeed locals, they joined the mountain later. Strictly speaking, in terms of seniority, wouldn’t they have to fall behind?

Furthermore, who else had accompanied the Old Master in the ancestral home in Mud Lane, keeping vigil through the night? If anyone dared to claim so, let them step forward, and Chen Lingjun would kowtow to them without hesitation.

Since Chen Lingjun was indeed as he claimed, then Nuanshu naturally followed suit.

Mi Yu suddenly said, “If anyone dares to bully you in the future, just come find me.”

However, as soon as the words left his mouth, Mi Yu realized he had spoken nonsense.

How could it ever be his turn to intervene?

If anyone truly dared to bully Nuanshu, even if they were an Ascension Realm cultivator, they would surely die, and their demise would be utterly without suspense.

Therefore, Mi Yu quickly amended, “For example, if that Chen Lingjun says any more foolish things, I’ll help you teach him a lesson.”

Nuanshu’s eyes crinkled into crescents, and she waved her hand, “No, no.”

A green-robed little boy with billowing sleeves chuckled, “Oh my, Great Sword Immortal Yu, are you instructing the silly girl in cultivation? Good, good, otherwise, her progress would be as slow as a tortoise crawl or an ant’s shuffle, quite unsightly.”

Mi Yu smiled, his eyes narrowing as he looked towards Nuanshu. Nuanshu hesitated for a moment, blinked her eyes, and then nodded gently.

Mi Yu then clapped his hands, stood up, and walked towards Chen Lingjun.

Chen Lingjun sensed something amiss, “Brother Yu, what are you planning?! Let’s talk this out, there’s no hurdle that can’t be overcome, no misunderstanding that can’t be resolved, no matter that can’t be negotiated!”

Mi Yu smiled, “What are you thinking? I’m just offering some guidance in cultivation.”

Without another word, Chen Lingjun fled.

On Fallen Peak, there once were three little girls, their heights were nearly identical, the difference being minuscule.

They would often lie together on the floor of the bamboo building’s second story, the gentle breeze carrying the sounds of cicadas in the summer.

They would rest their heads on palm-leaf fans, waiting for the watermelon placed in the pond behind the bamboo building to cool down, little by little.

Their only minor worries were the white clouds passing by outside the mountain, coming and then going. Some were a bit plumper and left slower, while others were thinner and departed more quickly.

What does the mountain hold?

A green robe and all things beautiful.