From the direction of the Temple of Vulcan ambled a wizened scholar, a perpetual smile gracing his lips. He halted at the base of the flowered arbor, beseeching the matron, Feng Yi, to glean whispers from within the Imperial Palace. This, he claimed, was to safeguard his most cherished pupil, a soul of guileless virtue, from the machinations of certain elders who, emboldened by mere seniority, might seek to exploit his innocence. Should such a charade succeed, and the doddering fools prevail, their triumph would be unearned. As the boy’s mentor, he could not stand idly by.

The old scholar spared the aged coachman not a glance, instead showering Feng Yi with obsequious greetings. After each bow, he refrained from joining the coachman at the stone table, launching into florid prose reminiscent of pickling brine: “Where blooms the flower, where sings the beauty, there too thrives the poem. And poem, in turn, finds its spirit in wine. Were the world bereft of such nectar, then would even the grandest occasions and fairest sights be but hollow displays…”

Feng Yi, wearied by this deluge of sugary words, tossed a jar of Hundred Blossom Wine to the scholar, a preemptive measure to silence his droning. Settling upon a stone seat at the arbor’s edge, the scholar finally deigned to acknowledge the coachman’s presence. With a start and a theatrical “Aiyo!”, he clutched the wine jar and approached the stone table, proffering it with a show of humble deference. Murmurs ensued, laced with feigned outrage at the elder’s plight – why only half a jar remained? He, a famed literary figure, was honored to be in the presence of such a legend, and the occasion demanded they drink deep, together! Feng Yi, unable to resist the scholar’s subtle insistence, tossed another jar to the coachman. The scholar then fixed a gaze upon the man and the wine, his eyes darting back and forth. The coachman, understanding the unspoken request, silently pushed the newly acquired jar toward the renowned Sage of Letters.

Then, ensconced at the table, the scholar produced a handful of roasted soybeans from his sleeve, scattering them upon the surface. With the aid of Feng Yi’s unique magical talent and the gentle breeze, he leaned in, attuning his ear to the whispers emanating from the Imperial Palace’s revelries.

Of all the venerated sages enshrined within the Temple of Literature, perhaps only this aged scholar would stoop to such unseemly tactics, yet do so with such unwavering conviction.

The coachman, restless under the scrutiny, yearned to depart.

But the scholar, squinting in his direction, tossed a few roasted beans into his mouth. “Disrespectful, are we? Did I grant you leave?”

The coachman forced a wry smile. “The Sage jests.”

The scholar scoffed. “Jest? Is it necessary? In your eyes, am I not a jest myself? Does it bear repeating?”

A chilling realization washed over the coachman. Could the old scholar be poised to wield the full authority of the Temple of Literature, enacting retribution for past grievances?

The scholar chuckled coldly. “I deem *you*, however, an accomplished joker. Or perhaps you hold the fourth-highest position in the Temple of Literature in such low regard that you feel it beneath your dignity to stand equal?”

Even the dullest wit would recognize the gravity of the situation. Alarmed, the coachman communicated telepathically with Feng Yi: “His intentions are foul. This is unlike the Sage’s usual demeanor. Should he resort to slander or cast blame upon me, I beg your assistance. At least to the Temple of Literature and the True Martial Mountain, speak only the truth.”

For his own honor and reputation, the old scholar had never shown concern. Not when his divine effigy was relegated lower and lower in the Temple of Literature, not even when it was removed entirely and desecrated in the streets. Nor when his teachings were outlawed across the land, and he was confined to the Merit Woods. Not a word of protest, not a syllable of self-defense, had ever passed his lips. A scholar, blessed with the title of “Sage,” brought so low – a singular case in the millennia of history.

Feng Yi replied in kind: “I will do what I can. Offer what aid is within my power, but do not blame me should I be unable. I, too, fear kindling a fire that consumes me.”

As the coachman had surmised, the Sage of Letters arrived with ill intentions, set to confront Lu Wei and others over past transgressions.

Feng Yi could understand. Both Qi Jingchun and Chen Ping’an, the scholar’s two youngest disciples, had suffered under the high-handedness of ancient figures within the Lilac Pearl Grotto-heaven.

And now, the scholar found himself in the Great Li capital, a city which was the “place of cultivation,” consuming centuries of labor of his most senior disciple, Cui Chan. How could he have a good mood?

So it was that the old saying held true: never underestimate the wrath of a patient man pushed too far.

“Some ancient grievances,” the scholar declared, “Feng Yi will use this occasion to settle to Chen Ping’an’s advantage.”

Feng Yi sighed softly and nodded.

And so, Chen Ping’an, embroiled in a battle of wits with Lu Wei and Nan Zan within the Imperial Palace, gained an unexpected advantage.

The coachman watched as the Sage of Literature morphed between moods: somber as a hermit, then eyes twinkling, stroking his beard with glee, nodding to himself as if privy to some delightful secret.

Finally, the scholar requested that Feng Yi summon Lu Wei to the Temple of Vulcan for a reunion.

And thus, Feng Yi, Lu Wei, and the old coachman – three former residents of the Lilac Pearl Grotto-heaven – found themselves reunited within the Temple of Vulcan, within the Great Li capital.

The scholar glanced at the Lu ancestor arriving from the Imperial Palace. Then he stowed the Hundred Blossom Wine in his sleeve, gathered the remaining roasted soybeans from the table, and chewed them slowly, deliberately, before rising to his feet. He then delivered a pronouncement to the old coachman: “Henceforth, you shall not use the True Martial Mountain as a gate. If I hear of it, but once, I will not trouble you. I shall take my argument directly to the True Martial Mountain.”

He tapped his chest with a single finger. “My words are the words of the Temple of Literature. Should the True Martial Mountain dispute this, let them bring their grievance to the Temple of Literature. I shall await them at the door.”

The coachman felt a wave of relief. The Sage had not been too unkind. He could simply find an alternate route into the mortal realm via the Temple of Wind and Snow.

The scholar turned to the newly weakened Lu Wei. “Upon your return to the Central Earth Continent, extend my greetings to Lu Sheng. Warn him against nocturnal excursions to the Observatory, and assure him that I have no need of the Temple of Literature’s backing in dealing with him. It would be beneath me.”

The scholar raised his thumb, pointing towards the heavens. “I have allies even above.”

Such was the way of the Talisman Master, Yu Xuan, in communion with the river of stars.

“Bai Ye is my brother, Yu Xuan is a comrade of Bai Ye who risked his life for him. So then Yu Xuan is my bosom friend.”

Why would the Greatest Sage and Teacher personally clear the path for Yu Xuan to commune with the heavens?

Of course it was because the Talisman Master Yu Xuan was worthy of the title. And the fact that he was willing to risk his daoism and millions of talismans to join the fray and help Bai Ye.

At the same time, the Temple of Literature held ill regard towards the Central Earth’s Lu clan. It was just that their deeds were subtle and clever, always within the rules. So then the Temple of Literature couldn’t be too explicit about any punishment.

“The Heavens belong to Yu Xuan, the Earth belongs to the Lu clan.” That was a true case of being under the shadow of another!

The scholar’s threat sounded like the tantrum of a hooligan, an inconsequential jest.

But Lu Wei found no humor in it.

A good-tempered scholar could never have nurtured disciples like Qi Jingchun and Zuo You.

A mere showman could never have taught a崔瀺崔瀺and a Chen Ping’an.

A Confucian sage of insufficient learning would never have drawn Liu Shiliu to his banner in his days of obscurity.

Nor would he have forged friendships with the likes of Bai Ye and Bai Ze.

The scholar grew more agitated with each word, his hands on his hips, scolding the two men outright.

“When I try to reason with you, you refuse to listen, preferring to cause trouble.”

“Only when I force you to face the truth do you agree to hear reason, to speak honestly.”

“My youngest disciple has a forgiving nature, but were it I… no, my skills are too meager, my face holds too little weight. I shall not issue threats today, lest I give you cause for amusement.”

The scholar turned to Feng Yi, seated upon the stone seat.

Feng Yi, her expression laced with weariness, patted her chest with a trembling hand. “Oh, is it my turn to be scolded? The Sage may say what he wishes; I shall endure it all.”

The scholar seemed embarrassed, wringing his hands. “No, no, it’s just that my throat has grown parched from speaking. A bit of wine to soothe it, perhaps?”

Feng Yi smiled. “The Sage is more comfortable with scolding, I think.”

Good wine was easy to swallow, but hard to swindle.

Lu Wei, his spirit depleted, simply offered a Daoist bow to the Sage and departed in silence, setting forth on a journey to the Central Earth Continent and a reunion with his clan.

The Lu clan ancestor had resolved never to set foot upon Treasure Bottle Continent again – a land of strife, plagued by formidable figures: first Qi Jingchun, and now Chen Ping’an.

The scholar, tipsy from the wine, strolled out of the Temple of Vulcan. He paused at the entrance, sighing, as if on the cusp of sharing a secret.

The elderly matron, who served as both gatekeeper and caretaker of the Temple, her figure stooped with age, chuckled softly. “The Sage has taken on a fine disciple, one of gentle grace and courtesy, who sees the saint in every face and the buddha in every soul. Though born in poverty, he possesses wisdom and compassion aplenty.”

The scholar’s face radiated joy, a smile splitting his cheeks. Yet he demurred, waving his hand. “No, no, he is not as virtuous as you suggest. Still a youth, after all. He will improve with time.”

The “elderly matron” was but a borrowed shell, a temporary abode for something greater. As to her true identity, it was an intricate tapestry. She bore resemblance to the master and apprentice Chen Qingliu and Zheng Juzhong, and their relation to the blind Daoist of Riding Dragon Lane. One of her more obvious guises was as one of the old ancestors of the Dragon Ascension of the Lilac Pearl Grotto-heaven. Furthermore, she had been the instructor of a dragon girl. In the past, she had belonged to the Temple of Literature as one of the Confucian ritualists of the three-thousand-year-old branch of Dragon Keepers.

So it was there was a hidden thread of cause and effect when Lu Chen was selling items in the small town and Liu Xianyang upset his stall.

The place with the most dragon qi in the Treasure Bottle Continent had originally been the Lilac Pearl Grotto-heaven. Now it was the Great Li capital.

The matron straightened. “The lowliest can possess the highest wisdom.”

The scholar composed himself, nodding solemnly after a moment of silence. “Your insight exceeds even Feng Yi’s.”

The matron shook her head. “In terms of foresight, none can compare to Qi Jingchun.”

The scholar hesitated, tugging at his beard and sighing mournfully. “‘With youthful hearts they strive for clouds, who cares to dwell in wretchedness.'”

His meaning was clear: Lu Chen, embarking upon the seas, had failed to find solace, and had instead traveled to the Azure Heavens to follow his daoism, becoming the Dao ancestor’s disciple. Though such a decision seemed callous, it was in harmony with his daoism.

The matron chuckled. “Lu Chen toiled in the Lilac Pearl Grotto-heaven for years, serving as a protector for his most senior brother and as a gambit against Qi Jingchun. Despite being a foe, why does the Sage seek to defend him?”

The scholar shook his head. “Let each be judged as they deserve. A true man discerns between right and wrong.”

Meanwhile, at the flower arbor,

The coachman sloshed the wine left over in his jar, and worried and anxious.

Feng Yi laughed. “This is what is meant by karmic retribution. You only need to stand and take the beating. Why act like some delicate woman?”

The coachman said helplessly, “Who said that you should not make enemies with Lao Xiucai, Zheng Juzhong, and the Fire Dragon Zhrenren?

The first has too loud of an argument, the second is too intelligent, and the third has too many friends on the mountain.

After the coachman left the Temple of Vulcan, the matron arrived at the flower arbor with faltering steps.

Feng Yi sighed. “It has been too long since I have felt the unangered majesty of the Sage. Fortunately, it was only a false alarm.”

Neither the newly appointed gods in the different departments in later generations nor the mountain cultivators and mountain yexiu were very knowledgeable about the sheng who were enshired in the Temple of Literature since there was less communication with the academy heads. There was a split from three thousand years ago and eight thousand years ago. The people’s impression of the sheng were fading more and more.

The matron smoothed the hair at her temples and smiled as she nodded.

Feng Yi drank her wine and said to herself, “Worrying about clouds for the moon, about bookworms for books, about lighting for studies, about the wind and rain for flowers, about the trials and tribulations of the world, about the short lives of talented people, and about the loneliness of heroes. You are truly a bodhisattva.”

The matron murmured, “Flower and seed are each other’s cause and effect.”

————

The boy jumped down from the carriage and entered the small lane. He was carrying a pair of fan cai flower and bird painting cylinder with at least twenty scrolls.

Liu Jia laughed and scolded, “Are you moving?”

When did Little Zhao’s calligraphy get so inexpensive?

Or could it be that his acceptance of Little Zhao’s calligraphy made him so flattered?

Zhao Duanming arrived and placed the painting cylinders down. Then he said, “Master, it seems like my grandfather knew who would be asking for the calligraphy.”

Liu Jia picked up a scroll and said with a smile, “It’s normal. Your grandfather has been sly since he was little and was all skin and bones with eyes that were always looking around. You are lucky to not be like him. Otherwise, I would not have accepted you as a disciple.”

Who knew how that boy could became the renowned official, whose every word was so valuable that even gods in the mountain asked for it?

Those who practiced daoism were good in this way. They had seen many people from the mountain villages become old men.

Liu Jia slowly unfurled the painting and shook his wrist so that it unfurled in the air. The two lines with full brushstrokes were “Alone but not self-pitying. Who will guard if not me when facing all directions?”

Liu Jia laughed and scolded, “Good Little Zhao! Your calligraphy is as strong as your talent for sucking up.”

Zhao Duanming complained, “Master, you should be more mindful. He is my grandfather. It is hard for me to be caught in the middle when you are always calling him Little Zhao. I am unfilial if I don’t listen and I am unfilial if I argue.”

Liu Jia smiled and asked, “Could it be that those are counterfeit pieces painted by others?”

Zhao Duanming extended his neck and looked. “Master, what eyes do you have? The ink is still not completely dry. How can the seals be faked?

Furthermore, you know that my grandfather cares the most about his reputation. Even when he was young and lacking money, he would only copy paintings to earn money for books.”

Liu Jia turned and asked, “Why is your face so bitter?”

The boy was squatting on the ground. “Grandfather said to ask you to engrave two seals with the inscriptions ‘Sword Immortal’ and ‘National Hand.’ If you don’t, he will come here and harass you.”

The old cultivator glared. “Did Little Zhao not look on his way out and got his brain stuck in the door? How can that old guy come and cause trouble here?”

Zhao Duanming looked at his master with a pitying gaze.

Why did he get such a simple master?

Liu Jia quickly realized what was going on and coughed to give himself an out. “It’s easy to say, but your master is a nameless epigraphist who does not use his skills lightly.”

Those officials were good at planning things out and liked to go around in circles.

Liu Jia opened another calligraphy piece and let out a cry in surprise.

Even if the old cultivator didn’t know anything about calligraphy, he could tell that it was extraordinary.

It was a one word one line calligraphy!

The unfurled scroll was three zhang long!

The scroll started with “In year Yuanjia Six, a desolate land with a flood that had lessened a bit. I saw someone in green rowing a boat across the river. Were they human or god, ghost or immortal?”

It ended with “Carrying a candle home.”

The words were like long spears with an aggressive air.

Zhao Duanming stared for a long time and said in a daze, “Why did grandfather give this away?”

Grandfather had said before that this calligraphy piece would go with him in his coffin as a pillow.

Grandfather was a weak scholar. It was said that he was sick as a child. When he was thirty and an official in the Ministry of Revenue, he went against the plans of Minister Cui and thought that the Great Li border soldiers were exhausting the country with military. As a result, he was demoted to the harsh border regions and was exiled to Rong Province for six years. The once deputy director of the Ministry of Revenue could only be a county magistrate. Furthermore, he didn’t think that he would return alive.

Zhao Duanming had heard his father mention that your grandmother was strong and had never cried in front of others. This time, she was really sad.

When grandfather returned, there were no umbrellas or reputation as a good official. It was as if the only things he had were the bag and this calligraphy piece.

Every time he unfurled the painting on his desk, the Zhao clan head would take a jug of wine.

From the younger years of taking a sip of wine for every word to taking a sip of wine for every number of words, the old man would only drink half a jug to read the entire calligraphy piece.

And Yuanjia Six,

Was when the Great Li soldiers won the hard border battle against the Lu clan riders.

Those Great Li soldiers that a scholarly official from the Ministry of Revenue had called an exhaust on the military were the same soldiers that pressed the 120,000 Lu clan elite riders on the ground, killed many enemies, and reached Lu clan territory for the first time in centuries!

In other words, they caused the Lu clan riders who were once invincible to not have a single person left on their horses!

From then on, there were no Lu clan riders in the north of the Treasure Bottle Continent. There were only Great Li riders.

Liu Jia slowly put away the calligraphy piece and turned to the boy to say, “Tell your grandfather that I will take care of those seals.”

Han Zhoujin, a di zhi cultivator, secretly left the capital and arrived at a small temple near the capital.

She saw a young man copying Buddhist texts. He was focused and wrote every word with the head of a fly.

He was the descendant of an aristocratic clan.

But Han Zhoujin was nervous and sweating.

The current head of the Zi Zhao Yan clan was Yan Yongfeng who wasn’t that high of an official.

But the person that truly had power in the Yan clan was the person that no one dared underestimate.

That was Yan Jiaoran, the one that Han Zhoujin saw.

Yan Jiaoran was skilled in cursive script but liked to copy Buddhist texts. It was as if he would come to do this whenever he was in the capital.

This was the third time Han Zhoujin had seen him here.

After copying a sentence, Yan Jiaoran turned and smiled. “Come in and sit. Why are you standing there?”

Han Zhoujin said softly, “Please wait a moment, Miss Han. There are still a hundred or so words left.”

Han Zhoujin quietly closed the door and stood there.

Before meeting that Mr. Chen, Han Zhoujin was only afraid of the person in front of her.

Only the sound of the brush rubbing against the paper could be heard.

After Yan Jiaoran finished copying the Buddhist text, he quietly put down his brush and turned to the girl at the door. “Please, take a seat.”

Han Zhoujin walked forward and sat down on a chair.

Yan Jiaoran pressed down on a calligraphy piece that he had brought with him. “Minister Cui once said that calligraphy was a minor skill that was worse than painting. He told me to not waste time on such a thing. Later, he saw that I was unrepentant and maybe thought that I had a bit of talent. He gave me this cursive script calligraphy piece after a meeting.”

Han Zhoujin listened to every word.

But she didn’t know why she was remembering it.

Yan Jiaoran suddenly asked, “Did you nine suffer at the inn?”

Han Zhoujin was about to describe the process of those battles.

Yan Jiaoran waved his hand. “You only need to tell me how the Hidden Guan told you to act. For example, did he say anything about the Tongbai Blessed Land and the sword immortal by your side?”

Han Zhoujin didn’t dare to lie and said everything.

Out of the nine, there was still one that was missing. Maybe everyone besides Gou Cun had their own background. The minister had not forbade their connection with others.

“A thousand hairs moving in unison, going in every direction. The energy flows and the laws are strict.”

Yan Jiaoran patted the calligraphy piece and started to change the subject again. “The core essence of cursive script lies in the ‘upright’ character. What do you think, Miss Han?”

Han Zhoujin finally understood what he meant and nodded. “Mr. Chen acts with a lot of care. Although he seems to act unbridled, there is a method to everything and he follows all the rules.”

Yan Jiaoran smiled and didn’t speak.

Han Zhoujin held her breath and sat properly.

Yan Jiaoran smiled. “Miss Han, there is no need to be so restrained.”

Han Zhoujin nodded.

But she was still restrained.

Yan Jiaoran was in charge of assigning and rewarding the military cultivators who came with the Great Li riders. Because of this, the Ministry of War, Ministry of Justice, and the Ministry of Rites couldn’t interfere with the assigning of the military cultivators.

Yan Jiaoran was like a shadow of the Great Li Empire that only existed at night.

He was known as one of the most trusted aides of Minister Cui Chan.

Han Zhoujin couldn’t know if that was true.

But Han Zhoujin was certain of one thing: Yan Jiaoran had fought with Song Changjing!

Other than that, Han Zhoujin was aware of another secret. Yan Jiaoran and the Tianjun of the Shen Gao sect, Qi Zhen, were close friends despite their age.

This was why the Yan clan had snatched her from the Great Li spies and brought her to the Yan clan from the Qingtan Blessed Land.

“That friend of Chen Ping’an is probably Liu Jinglong of the Taihui Sword sect. He wants you to go to the Temple of Vulcan to ask Feng Yi about the central formation. You should cherish those immortal connections.”

Yan Jiaoran stood up. “Let’s go. It is time to eat. I will treat Miss Han to a bowl of vegetarian noodles.”

Yan Jiaoran led Han Zhoujin out of the residence and to the room next door. There was only a table and four benches.

Because he was a frequent visitor, Yan Jiaoran didn’t have to go to the vegetarian hall. He just asked the temple monks for two servings of vegetarian noodles.

Yan Jiaoran didn’t sit at the head seat. He gestured for Han Zhoujin to sit. “I come here because of the taste and to cultivate my mind.”

Soon, a steady-footed acolyte brought two bowls of vegetarian noodles.

Han Zhoujin looked at the bowl in front of her. It looked and smelled amazing.

There were shiitake mushrooms, reeds, green onions, fried tofu, pickled radish, and some unnamed spicy vegetables.

Even a cultivator like Han Zhoujin had an appetite.

They ate separately.

Yan Jiaoran picked up some noodles and chewed before placing some vegetables in his mouth. He suddenly said, “I secretly went to Upside Down Mountain when I was young.”

Han Zhoujin was about to stop eating when Yan Jiaoran smiled. “I told you to not be too restrained. It is not that I think there is anything wrong, but I am afraid of trouble and hate it. I have to remind you about that. You being annoyed is not the point. It is that you will annoy me.”

Han Zhoujin didn’t say anything and just picked up a mouthful of noodles.

“I was miserable when I took the Sea Mountain Turtle to Upside Down Mountain. That was the first and only time I had traveled to another continent. Along the way, I learned the language of the Central Earth Continent. Otherwise, I would be considered a country bumpkin and it would be hard to pay. We Treasure Bottle Continent people weren’t well liked back then and the Great Li was considered a barbarian from the north. You can imagine how that would make someone as OCD as me feel.”

“You are young so you probably can’t understand. You will understand it even less in the future. That is a fortunate thing.”

“When I arrived at Sword Qi Great Wall, guess what my biggest regret was?”

Han Zhoujin shook her head.

How could she guess?

Yan Jiaoran smiled.

It was a pity it wasn’t the young Hidden Guan.

“Of the many swordsmen at Sword Qi Great Wall, there was only one with the Yan surname.”

“His name was Yan Ming.”

“He was also good at making money.”

Yan Jiaoran nodded to himself.

The true dragon veins of a country were?

Horse hooves and silver.

What did it mean for a country to be strong? It was when the horse hooves were roaring on the battlefield.

And when the sound of the abacus matched the scholar’s voice.

“When I arrived at Sword Qi Great Wall, the first thing I did was go to the Yan family door and say that my name was Yan and that I was from the Treasure Bottle Continent.”

Yan Jiaoran lifted a thumb and wiped the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t help but laugh. “In the end, the old gatekeeper didn’t even report it. Instead, he gifted me a character. Miss Han?”

Han Zhoujin raised her head and said with difficulty, “Was it the ‘get lost’ character?”

Yan Jiaoran continued. “I was young back then and had a big temper. I wanted to fight the old man but the gatekeeper was a Jindan sword immortal.”

Yan Jiaoran pointed at his forehead. “A flying sword stopped here. It made my hair stand on end.”

“It wasn’t enough to make me pee my pants. Even though I was young and didn’t have a high realm, I had killed people before.”

“But I will never forget the feeling of almost being killed. It wasn’t that I had almost died, but it was that powerlessness that made me depressed. How could they be so strong and I be so weak?”

“I think you are more stupid.”

“Ha, chosen geniuses with only realms and treasures but with poor hearts.”

“I was wondering why the minister left you to fend for yourselves. So it turns out he had planned for this.”

Yan Jiaoran seemed to be changing the subject again and narrowed his eyes. “The Yan sword immortal was at the Spring Banner Hall of Upside Down Mountain counting money before that battle ended.”

“So I had wanted to see that young Hidden Guan and ask him what the Yan sword immortal who continued to fight with missing arms was like.”

“But to avoid suspicion, I cannot ask. So the reason I called you here was to have you ask for me.”

The cultivators of the Vast Lands, the Treasure Bottle Continent’s border troops,

Probably felt the same way that Yan Jiaoran had felt when facing that gatekeeper.

Yan Jiaoran and Xun Yushi would soon head to the Wild Lands with Cao Peng.

The temple was built at the foot of the mountain. After Han Zhoujin left, Yan Jiaoran leaned on the door and looked at the mountain.

The mountain was empty and the water was flowing.

Don’t doubt the daoists when they meditate. Great men become immortals when they sheathe their swords.

Ma Yuan, the head of the Poyang Ma clan, was large and fat with horizontal flesh on his face. But he wrote a great thin gold calligraphy, was good at calculations, and always spoke softly.

Ma Yuan wasn’t even fifty years old. This was a good age to be an official.

But Ma Yuan wasn’t a martial artist or a cultivator. Instead, he was the one in charge of the Great Li’s money.

In terms of rising in the Great Li, it was Ma Yuan in the north and Liu Qingfeng in the south.

Of course, they were also the ones who were criticized the most.

Ma Yuan was the Minister of Revenue.

The most important officials in the Ministry of Revenue were summoned. None of them dared to breathe loudly except for Guan Yiran.

There were a lot of people today. When they were done with official business, this guy would put his arm around the minister.

They couldn’t drink alcohol in the office but they could drink tea. After finishing, Guan Yiran would try to find tea.

Ma Yuan’s teacher was Guan Yiran’s great-grandfather.

The Great Li emperor wasn’t able to give a good evaluation of Ma Yuan for years.

The official of the Department of Appointments controlled everything, even though other officials from other offices assisted.

Ma Yuan scolded the Ministry of Revenue officials.

After scolding them, Ma Yuan stayed Guan Yiran behind. He thought of Guan Yiran’s great-grandfather.

“Ma Yuan, you are in rank three now. The good news is that you got a promotion. The bad news is that your evaluation will depend on the emperor.”

“But don’t worry. I can say a few things to His Majesty and the minister.”

Ma Yuan had a hard time rising to be a vice-minister.

It wasn’t that being an official was hard, but it was hard to be a person.

The people were jealous of the fact that Ma Yuan was under the care of the old minister.

After being transferred to the Department of Revenue, Ma Yuan got angry and slammed the table during a meeting.

“I admit that I am Minister Guan’s illegitimate son, okay?!”

The next day, Minister Guan called Ma Yuan over. “Ma Yuan, don’t say such things again. The minister heard it yesterday and the emperor didn’t look at me right.”

Ma Yuan nodded.

He had gone against the rules of being an official.

Minister Guan slapped Ma Yuan’s head. “Fortunately, the minister spoke up for me and said I couldn’t have a bastard like you.”

It was still a joke.

Ma Yuan knew why he was rising.

It was because he was good at calculations and had a knack for numbers.

When Ma Yuan was still a newcomer in the Department of Revenue, Minister Cui Chan gave Ma Yuan a stack of calculations and a piece of paper with ten calculation problems and ten civil service test questions.

Ma Yuan asked, “Guan Yiran, do you think the Great Li needs a new minister?”

Guan Yiran was sweating. “Why are you asking me this, Minister Ma? You should ask His Majesty.”

He could only ask his uncle.

Ma Yuan said in anger, “Bullshit! Out of the six departments, the Department of Revenue’s seat is the least cold.”

Only Minister Ma’s illegitimate son would speak so candidly.

Ma Yuan rubbed his face. The little bastard was asking for a beating.

The minister leaned back in his chair. His documents were organized. The books didn’t even have wrinkles.

Not all officials were good officials.

It was just that there was someone who was looking at them.

But that person said that everything was right when they could continue that even when he wasn’t there.

He would die without regrets if there were two or three friends.

Ma Yuan didn’t dare to say that the minister was his friend.

In his life, he did one quick thing. He was able to ensure that the Great Li riders would always be supplied and given proper treatment.

Minister Ma was the one who was right.

The minister felt better about that bastard’s behavior.

Ma Yuan glanced at the copy stone on the desk and said, “The stone does not have an inscription, which is a flaw.”

“You can treat it as great jade that is unpolished.”

Guan Yiran finally found the tea. The current minister had hidden the tea in very secret locations. He found a tin of tea engraved with the words “Stone Something.”

Ma Yuan was silent.

Guan Yiran put the tin away and said he had something to take care of.

Ma Yuan suddenly said, “Yiran, you should choose your friends wisely.”

Guan Yiran smiled. “I understand, Minister.”

Ma Yuan reached his hand out. “Give it back.”

Guan Yiran acted stupid. “What?”

An old man in the Court of State Ceremonies summoned Xun Qu.

Xun Qu was only a rank-nine worker.

As one of the small nine departments, the Court of State Ceremonies was just a place to fart. But now that the Great Li was getting stronger, the Court of State Ceremonies was becoming more and more important. It used to be that the young officials who came were treated as being exiled. Now it wasn’t like that anymore.

The minister was friendly. “How is the reports going?”

Xun Qu replied, “Everyone is being easy to talk to except the Ministry of War. We have six more reports than last time.”

The minister laughed. “Six followers.”

Xun Qu acted like he didn’t hear the old man’s complains.

The minister was named Zhangsun Mao. He was from the capital. He was the old official who yelled at Guan Yiran for not knowing how to act.

The Great Li never changed the Court of State Ceremonies’ location. Because of this, it was big. A river flowed through it and there were streams and bridges. In the last hundred years, the ministers had refused to move.

Zhangsun Mao rubbed his wrists as he walked along the river with the worker. The old man said, “Before you guys arrived, no one knew how hard it was to be an official here. When the Lou clan and Da Sui came, they would yell as if we were all deaf. Do you know how angry that made me?”

“Minister Cui was indifferent to the Court of State Ceremonies. The last time he was here was in Yuanjia Five. Everyone here feels a bit embarrassed when that is brought up. That year, a Lou clan official toured with me and I heard a sentence that made me furious…”

The old man patted the bridge. “It was around here.”

The old man lifted his hand up high. “That was how the Lou clan officials looked and spoke to us.”

“It is useless for you guys to be loud if the soldiers on the border aren’t loud.”

“If the sounds of the soldiers on the border are loud, then no one will dare to say anything.”

The old man pointed at Xun Qu. “You Great Li officials are lucky. You have to treasure it.”

The old man put his hands behind his back and said, “I had wanted to resign back then but thought it was useless for me to be here.”

“The minister came to the Court of State Ceremonies after I turned in my resignation. I came to see Minister Cui but I kept my mouth shut. The minister didn’t say anything. He just asked a question. If it only counts when the country is strong, who will be an official when the country is weak?”

The old man patted his shoulder. It was a pity that it wasn’t winter.

Back then, there was snow.

Minister Cui had patted Zhangsun Mao’s shoulder and said, “It’s fine. If you don’t want to, someone else will. The Great Li court will allow your spirit.”

Zhangsun Mao looked off into the distance.

It was as if he could see it.

An old man in a robe walked away in the snow.

Zhangsun Mao didn’t say some things.

The sight of the officials who had become numb made Zhangsun