Chen Pingan intentionally chose the day of Beginning of Winter to disembark from the ferry and descend upon the Lower Sect. Cui Dongshan had hastily erected a few thatched huts at the mountain gate, setting out several tables. The gathering of both Upper and Lower Sects was quite sizable, numbering nearly thirty individuals. Cui Dongshan, acting as both proprietor and server, busied himself with Shi Qiu in the kitchen. In this season of Beginning of Winter, there was a bowl of dumplings and a bowl of fortifying winter soup, also known as Earth Root Soup, brewed from various roots of herbs and trees. It was merely for auspiciousness, using locally sourced ingredients, nothing of the Immortal variety. Each table also had dishes of soy sauce and vinegar for dipping, and a large platter of pickled Chinese cabbage, preserved during the Frost’s Descent season.

As for wine, apologies, one would have to conjure it themselves. The Lower Sect was currently impoverished.

At the head table sat five individuals:

Chen Pingan, the Mountain Lord of the Upper Sect’s Fallen Phoenix Mountain.

Chang Ming, the Upper Sect’s Law Enforcement Elder, bearing the Daoist title of Spiritual Spring.

And the three temporarily highest-ranking figures of the Lower Sect: the first Sect Master, Cui Dongshan; Zhong Qiu, in charge of finances; and Cui Wei, the Lower Sect’s Law Enforcement Elder.

Cui Wei initially declined to sit at the head table, wishing to yield the position to Mi Yu, who was soon to be appointed Chief Honorary Elder of the Lower Sect. However, the Mountain Lord held onto his arm firmly, leaving Cui Wei no choice but to accept his fate.

Yu Xiehui, seated at another table, glanced at Cui Wei. The youth curled his lip, thinking, “Oh, he’s even drinking with the Hidden Official now.”

This was nothing extraordinary back in the Sword Qi Great Wall, but in the Blessed Land, it was a rare sight indeed.

However, Yu Xiehui seemed to be in a better mood, picking up a dumpling with his chopsticks and then downing a large mouthful of the fortifying winter soup.

Cui Wei keenly noticed this slight change in his direct disciple. He looked towards the young Hidden Official and offered a rare smile. Chen Pingan nodded in acknowledgment, “A trifle.”

Which child in this world wouldn’t wish for their father or teacher to be a stalwart and impressive figure, possessing prestige when venturing out?

Chen Pingan’s group of direct disciples sat at one table, the only addition from the previous ferry journey being Cao Qinglang.

Cui Dongshan was the last to take his seat, cupping his hands in a formal greeting and proclaiming, “Inheriting the legitimate lineage, handling preliminary matters, lacking in talents, striving day and night…”

Chen Lingjun quietly asked, “Second Seat Mi, what does that mean?”

Mi Yu retorted, “Asking me? What do *you* think it means?”

The two lively individuals stared at each other with wide eyes.

Old Immortal Jia, stroking his beard, chuckled, “Sect Master Cui’s general meaning is that this Lower Sect is inheriting the orthodox origins of the Upper Sect, namely Fallen Phoenix Mountain. Currently, it’s in the initial stages of construction, lacking in manpower and resources. Therefore, hospitality may be lacking, and shortcomings are inevitable. He hopes for everyone’s understanding. Of course, this is Sect Master Cui’s overly humble way of speaking. Just take this plate of pickled winter cabbage, the craftsmanship of chefs in the imperial palace is no better.”

Mi Yu curiously asked, “Old Brother Jia, have you ever been to the palace?”

Chen Lingjun grinned, thinking that Great Sword Immortal Mi had asked a good question.

Jia Sheng smiled, “A hero doesn’t dwell on past glories. It’s best left unsaid. Besides, my past is nothing but a laughingstock.”

Chen Lingjun chuckled, “Old Brother Jia was a refined scholar with imperial examination success in his youth. He was a *Jinshi* official who had even attended the Qionglin Banquet and published a collection of poems. Later, he abandoned the pen for the sword, joining the frontier army and serving on the battlefield for many years, achieving considerable military merit. According to Chief Zhou, he could even be granted a posthumous honorary title. However, when the world became peaceful, Old Brother Jia met the Emperor and asked for nothing, concealing his merits and fame, and wandering the world. Later, he took on Deng Gao and Jiu’er as his esteemed disciples, and then became acquainted with our Master, becoming an honorary Immortal Master of Fallen Phoenix Mountain.”

Jia Sheng chuckled, “My past has been exposed, I hope Second Seat Mi finds it amusing.”

Chen Pingan turned his head and asked with a smile, “Honorary Elder Jia, you have such extraordinary past deeds? Why haven’t I heard you mention them before?”

Old Immortal Jia quickly held his bowl with both hands, using soup as a substitute for wine, “How could I have the gall to boast about my accomplishments before the Mountain Lord? One shouldn’t wash dirty linen in public.”

From this, one could see how much his Mountain Lord trusted people, using them without suspicion.

What a “extraordinary”! The Mountain Lord’s comment was seasoned and skillful. Those few words surpassed flowery and verbose flattery.

Chen Pingan turned his head to look at the mountain path, vaguely resembling the form of a divine path for burning incense and paying respects. He asked, “Was the predecessor of this mountain a remnant of one of the Five Sacred Mountains of a kingdom?”

Cui Dongshan nodded with a smile, “My Teacher has discerning eyes like torches. Indeed, it was I who spent immense effort to relocate this mountain here. It was extremely heavy. The mountaintop was the old Southern Sacred Mountain of the former Northern Jin Kingdom. The mountain deity’s shrine and golden body had been destroyed by the demon race in that war, and the Barren World had thoroughly plundered the land. Not a single valuable celestial treasure remained in the mountain. So now, only an empty shell remains. If I want to restore it to its former glory as a sacred mountain, I have no choice but to pour money and more money into it.”

“This is also why the new Emperor of Northern Jin was so generous. I happened to pass by this mountain and found it pleasing to the eye. Later, I asked the Yao family of Daquan to help me make connections. Minister of the Ministry of Rites, Li Xiling, the current Emperor’s uncle, personally accompanied me to the capital of Northern Jin, costing me fifty Grain Rain Coins. The new ruler was generous, hinting at whether I was willing to take over all the old Five Sacred Mountains. Two hundred Grain Rain Coins would be enough to buy them all. I was almost tempted.”

Similar to the Dragon Boat Ink Scroll incident at Fallen Phoenix Mountain back then, it was better to buy a new ferry than to spend a great deal of effort and celestial coins repairing it. For the newly established Northern Jin court, eager to rebuild, restoring the broken mountain roots and depleted waterways of a Sacred Mountain was an endless money pit. Therefore, it was no ordinary white elephant. After all, the matter of not changing or demolishing a Sacred Mountain was an unchangeable rule. It was better to consecrate a new Sacred Mountain, which would also represent a new dynasty and a new atmosphere. Regarding the selection of a new Sacred Mountain site for Northern Jin, not only had the Great Fu Academy reported it, but it had also received permission from the Confucian Temple in the Central Earth.

This meant that the Confucian Temple, in this matter, had set a precedent for all the kingdoms of the Tongye Continent. Now that there was an example, other kingdoms would have a model to follow.
“This lower sect’s territory is just this small; how can it accommodate a nation and its Five Sacred Mountains? It would seem bloated and overly crowded. As an additional condition to purchasing the old mountains, since the price was indeed low, I also had to agree with that new monarch that, within the next century, our lower sect would prioritize accepting Daoist seedlings from the Northern Jin Kingdom. That Emperor, despite his young age, possesses considerable ambition. He’s a shrewd negotiator, either a born businessman or someone with a hidden advisor offering wise counsel. He started with exorbitant demands, and I haggled him down. In the end, I agreed to an additional condition: ‘Within five centuries, at least three to five direct disciple quotas from the Ancestral Hall for Northern Jin.’ In exchange, we, the lower sect, would be responsible for the renovation of the old state capital and the construction of the new one. Fair prices, mutual benefit, a win-win situation. Furthermore, they granted us the rights to exploit all silver mines within Northern Jin for a century. We provide the labor, and the Northern Jin court simply sits back and collects, with a nine-to-one split…”

Hearing this, Chen Pingan finally interjected, “Such a split, isn’t that excessive?”

If the lower sect was taking ninety percent, then, of course, they were being excessive. If the lower sect only received ten percent, then Northern Jin was being unreasonable.

Cui Dongshan smiled, “Your student also wanted to negotiate an eight-two split, but the new monarch is far too astute, well-prepared. The Ministry of Revenue of Northern Jin has carefully estimated the approximate reserves of those six silver mine veins, both overt and covert. Even if we only secure ten percent of the profits, it’s still an astronomical sum of wealth. Teacher, I can guarantee that within twenty years, the lower sect will become the foremost silver bank in the entire Tongye Continent.”

Don’t underestimate the silver bank business on this mountain. Since ancient times, humans have settled along rivers, so what could be more attractive than a wealth as fluid as flowing silver?

Cui Dongshan, of course, knew that his teacher understood his intentions and plans.

Nalan Yudie perks up at the words “silver,” and “splitting money,” She hastily swallows a dumpling, cheering loudly, her little face radiant, eyes gleaming with excitement.

Cui Dongshan turned, smiling and cupping his hands in a respectful greeting to the little money-grubber.

Her master now is the Law Enforcer of Fallen Phoenix Mountain, fellow Daoist Lingchun!

Chen Pingan took a sip of winter tonic soup. After Cui Dongshan sat down, he continued, “I also took a liking to two mountains within the former Southern Qi territory, one a former Central Sacred Mountain and the other a former Western Sacred Mountain’s reserve peak; both are decent enough. However, that area is currently in chaos, unlike the lingering connections of Northern Jin. The Southern Qi state has been severed. The new emperor is an outsider by marriage, his legitimacy questionable, constantly undermined by a large group of former dynasty loyalists. There are undercurrents flowing throughout the court. It will take at least three to five years for things to stabilize. Even if I wanted to take advantage of the situation, I would worry about getting covered in mud and becoming an object of derision. So, after much deliberation, I felt it was unnecessary. We’ll wait until the situation over there is stable. Any agreements signed now could become worthless paper the next day.”

Northern Jin and Southern Qi bordered the Great Spring Dynasty. The former was at least a continuation of the state, but the old capital of Southern Qi, having become the garrison headquarters for a barbarian tent in the early years, had all its mountain and river spirits, city gods, and local deities occupied by demons, shattering countless statues and golden bodies. Therefore, the new monarch, upon ascending the throne and establishing the new dynastic name, preferred to establish the capital and hold the coronation ceremony in a state city rather than the old capital, which he found inauspicious and abandoned directly. In the past two years, he pieced things together and borrowed a large sum of foreign debt from the Yao family of Great Spring, secretly ceding many benefits. Only at the end of last year did he begin to rebuild a brand-new capital. A single misstep could turn it into a tributary state of the Great Spring Dynasty.

Cui Dongshan wasn’t a Great Mountain Monarch like Wei Bo, nor was he managing a mountain within his own jurisdiction. He also didn’t possess the innate divine ability of that Mountain-Moving Patriarch. Therefore, the matter of relocating this old sacred mountain consumed a great deal of Cui Dongshan’s energy and wealth. He first had to set up a large formation encompassing the entire mountain range, then employ the Buddhist technique of Mustard Seed Sumeru, ultimately carrying a mountain on his back northward. Thus, for at least half of the journey, Cui Dongshan was unable to fly and had to walk on foot.

Learning from those ancient land immortals, relocating rivers and carrying mountains.

After settling in place, he would have those talisman puppets, the mountain carriers and fishers, either repair and mend the mountain roots or perform cloud-seeding and gather water resources in the lower sect’s territory.

In the future, when the three mountains are relocated here, the lower sect will form a main peak and two supporting peaks in its above-ground layout.

After a hearty meal, Cui Dongshan led the way, and the group began their mountain tour, Cui Dongshan helping to introduce the surrounding mountain and river attractions.

This mountain, formerly one of the Five Sacred Mountains, couldn’t just be a solitary peak but an entire mountain range. Many peaks and ridges had been renamed by Cui Dongshan. In addition to renaming the old mountain as Immortal Capital Mountain, the future ancestral mountain of the lower sect, named after the main peak, would be Green Lotus Peak, with a Soaring Platform at the summit.

As for the foothills on the secondary peak, there was also a river nearby, which Cui Dongshan named Falling Treasure Beach.

Xiao Mo paused upon hearing the name “Falling Treasure Beach,” as if sensing Xiao Mo’s abnormality behind him. The large white goose walking at the front, swinging its sleeves, chuckled telepathically, “Mr. Xiao Mo, don’t overthink it. There’s no connection in Daoist lineage between this Falling Treasure Beach and that Bi Xiao Cave of the stinky Daoist. I’m just asking for good luck.”

In that ancient era where humans and demons coexisted, and gods were in the heavens, the Bi Xiao Cave beside Falling Treasure Beach was invincible upon emerging from the cave. Never concede if it is possible to be forgiving, never make way if it is possible to make way.

Back then, Daoists and land immortals of the world would feel apprehensive upon encountering that one.

Xiao Mo was, of course, an exception. However, the two neither exchanged Daoist techniques nor had a sword duel. Instead, they got along quite well, considering themselves congenial. Xiao Mo had even brewed wine with that blue-robed Daoist at the Falling Treasure Beach outside Bi Xiao Cave.

Chen Lingjun walked beside the big white goose, his sleeves flapping and crackling.

That Mr. Zheng, a junior disciple, had said, “This is called a flying dragon in the sky, with billowing clouds and rain, and a muffled roar after the storm.”

Cui Dongshan turned his head, looked at Old Immortal Jia, and asked with a smile, “Second Manager, that robe of yours, the one that looks so valuable, didn’t you bring it out to wear and expose it to the sun and moonlight?”

Old Immortal Jia replied somewhat sheepishly, “Immortal Master Cui’s teachings are always kept in mind by this poor Daoist. I constantly remind myself that it is easy to go from frugality to extravagance, but difficult to go from extravagance to frugality.”

It turned out that before disembarking, the blind Daoist had already taken off that magnificent Daoist robe and donned the simple attire of the current manager of Riding Dragon Lane.
At the foot of the mountain, there’s a way of life for those who dwell there; halfway up, a different set of principles prevail. Don’t be so rigid! Now that you’re the second-in-command of the Wind-Soaring Ferry, remember the adage: ‘Clothes make the man, gold adorns the Buddha.’ You can’t be too shabby. In the future, Old Immortal Jia will need to interact with all sorts of people, and he’s bound to encounter some snobs. Don’t let poor attire ruin a business deal.”

Cui Dongshan, who had been silent all along, replied with a grin, “If the clothes are shabby, we can replace them with Dharma robes. But if the poverty is ingrained in the spirit, that’s less appealing.”

As a result, Cui Dongshan received a slap on the back of his head from his teacher.

Chen Pingan scolded, “You’re about to become a sect leader, who taught you to be so sarcastic?”

Old Immortal Jia quickly swallowed, cleared his throat, and said with a straight face, “Mountain Lord, Sect Leader Cui speaks the truth. If he didn’t consider this poor Daoist as family, why would he offer such valuable advice that may sound unpleasant at first?”

Chen Pingan was silent.

The Discipline Elder Chang Ming smiled gently.

Nalan Yu Tie took out a brush and a bamboo slip from his sleeve, and began to record the words.

Previously, when the young Mountain Lord went to Riding Dragon Lane to invite Old Immortal Jia to come out of retirement and accept the position of second-in-command of the ferry, Jia Sheng personally cooked a table full of dishes to accompany the wine, and even called over his two disciples, Zhao Denggao and Tian Jiu’er. The old immortal unusually spoke little, only offering a few toasts. His words, compared to his usual flowery language, were extremely plain. He simply thanked the Mountain Lord for taking in his master and disciples years ago, giving them a place to settle down, so they wouldn’t have to continue wandering. He also thanked Mount Luopo for its generous treatment over the years, where they lived in peace and didn’t feel like outsiders at all. It wasn’t just like home, it *was* home.

Finally, the old Daoist stood up, holding his cup and paying respects to the heavens and the four directions, saying he had to thank the heavens for opening their eyes, allowing him the fortune to come here, the fortune to meet Mountain Lord Chen, and the fortune to meet everyone at Mount Luopo.

The group continued to climb, but unfortunately, the valuable timber in the mountain had already been felled, and countless magnificent palaces and Daoist temples had been destroyed, leaving only traces of their foundations. Even the cliff carvings had not escaped, arbitrarily erased by demonic spells. They reached a secluded path near a stream, slightly higher than halfway up the mountain, already towering above the bird paths. The viewing pavilion on the cliff and the waterside pavilion had both vanished, leaving only white clouds and birds slowly passing by outside the mountain.

The white-robed youth scooped up a handful of water and smiled, “Teacher, this water is good for brewing wine and making tea. This stream never floods during heavy rains, nor dries up during droughts. It’s one of the few treasures of the mountain. And the further upstream, the higher the quality of the water will be.”

Chen Pingan smiled and nodded, “I can barely be considered proficient in the art of brewing wine and making tea.”

Cui Dongshan tilted his palm, stood up, and said, “In the future, I’ll erect a stone tablet near here, inscribed with calligraphy collected from a certain person, with a poem of immortal wandering… Teacher, why don’t you improvise one?”

The “certain person” Cui Dongshan referred to was probably Cui Chan.

With so many people around, he couldn’t directly call him “Old Bastard.”

As soon as they heard that the young Mountain Lord was going to compose a poem, Old Immortal Jia shouted in praise, and Chen Lingjun immediately followed suit.

Nalan Yu Tie and the chubby Cheng Chao Lu applauded enthusiastically.

Chen Pingan’s face darkened.

Fortunately, Xiao Mi Li wasn’t here.

Chen Pingan turned to look at Xiao Mo.

He was hinting to Xiao Mo that his mind was a vast library, with quick retrieval capabilities, and that he could help out and get them out of this situation by piecing together a poem of immortal wandering.

Xiao Mo, whose smile was still somewhat reserved, mistakenly thought that his young master was displeased with his lack of enthusiasm. He immediately held his walking stick and raised his hands, gently applauding to show his anticipation.

Chen Pingan took the lead in moving forward, leaving only a sentence, “Leave it for now.”

Old Immortal Jia stroked his beard and smiled, whispering to Xiao Mo beside him, “The Mountain Lord must already have a well-formed composition in mind.”

In fact, Chen Pingan already had an outline. Who couldn’t make up a few doggerel verses? It was just that with the presence of Master, and the student Cao Qinglang, Chen Pingan was ultimately embarrassed to show off.

Xiao Mo began to rummage through the books in his mind. Green scrolls and poems of immortal wandering, so many. He nodded and said, “Ancient trees reach the sky, framing cloud houses, a truly spiritual site known as the Immortal Capital.”

Old Immortal Jia thought for a moment, and nodded, “Little Mo, borrowing a poem from Ding Yanling as an opening is quite fitting.”

Cui Dongshan held the back of his head with both hands and smiled, “My mountain rises three thousand feet from the ground, soaring emerald for ten thousand years.”

Near the summit, Cui Dongshan said in a mental voice transmission, “Teacher, the seating arrangement at the mountain gate just now is different from that of Mount Luopo.”

Cui Dongshan’s arrangement was very much in line with the rules of Haoran, so it seemed less like Mount Luopo.

Chen Pingan smiled, “I promised you long ago, the affairs of the lower sect are up to you to handle. I won’t interfere much.”

In Mount Luopo, harmony prevailed. The atmosphere emphasized human relationships, and the realm of cultivators and martial artists didn’t matter much. Naturally, there was little regard for the distinction between main and secondary, seniority, or closeness.

But Chen Pingan didn’t think that the lower sect had to follow suit and copy everything from the upper sect.

Unless one day Chen Pingan felt that the lower sect had some problems, he would make an exception and make decisions unilaterally.

At the top of the mountain at the Soaring Cloud Platform, Chen Pingan took out two items and handed them to Cui Dongshan, “Consider these my advance congratulatory gifts. There will be another one at the celebration, which will be counted separately.”

A pair of couplets from Wu Shuangjiang.

The Twelve Flying Swords of the Cloud Pattern Dynasty’s Jade Tablet City.

The white-robed youth put them into his sleeve and bowed to the teacher in thanks.

The blessed land obtained from Tian Wan had not yet “landed.” Cui Dongshan also had a series of interlocking landscape arrangements.

Chen Pingan remembered something and asked Cui Dongshan with a smile, “Zhu Lian’s swordsmanship, is it actually very powerful?”

Because when the old Daoist priest visited Mount Luopo last time, he stopped at the mountain gate, only drinking tea and chatting with Zhu Lian, a “hometown person” from the blessed land, and proactively mentioned Zhu Lian’s swordsmanship, even asking if Zhu Lian would choose nine sword immortal embryos as disciples. A great cultivator of the fourteenth realm would definitely not casually make such remarks.

When Chen Pingan accidentally entered the lotus flower depths, he only heard that Zhu Lian had two nicknames, “Mad Martial Artist” and “Noble Young Master.” At most, it was that the old chef, when he first ventured into the world, had traveled with a sword and caused a lot of romantic debts.

Cui Dongshan said, “Zhu Lian’s swordsmanship deserves the word ‘outstanding.’ He is the greatest master of sword techniques of all time before Ding Ying of the blessed land, like a peak rising abruptly above a mountain range.”

Chen Pingan asked in confusion, “Then why have I never seen Zhu Lian practice swordsmanship?”
He did notice that the old cook was always the most enthusiastic and supportive whenever that little darkie practiced his Mad Demon Swordplay, to the point of being a bit excessive in his flattery.

Cui Dongshan chuckled, “Perhaps the old cook feels that practicing swordsmanship has become rather meaningless.”

Chen Ping’an sighed, “It truly is infuriating when comparing people.”

Far away, there was Zhu Lian; closer, there was his disciple Pei Qian; and now, he had another one in Chai Wu.

Cui Dongshan didn’t linger long on Fufeng Terrace, soon bidding farewell and leading the Lower Sect down the mountain to continue their busywork. Everyone had clear responsibilities and a heavy workload.

Cui Dongshan even brought along Lu Baixiang and his two disciples.

Cui Dongshan personally handled all matters of the Lower Sect, taking care of everything himself. The Upper Sect, the impoverished Fallen Mountain, seemed to have only provided the sect’s name.

Chen Ping’an glanced at the departing figures of Lu Baixiang and his disciples. It seemed that from their meeting at the ferry to following Lu Baixiang away from the mountain peak, Yuanbao hadn’t looked at Cao Qinglang much at all.

Then there was no need to guess. It must be as Little Rice Grain, the gossipy sprite, had said – it was true.

However, what could outsiders do about such matters, other than knowing but pretending not to know?

Chen Ping’an gazed towards a mountain peak neighboring Qingping Peak. It seemed that Sui Youbian had acquired it, naming the mountain top similar to Fufeng Terrace as Sweeping Flower Terrace.

Mountain winds blew through the empty forest, rustling as if someone was there.

A wind-kite ferry, making one round trip across the continent, would take just over a month, not counting docking time. However, it had to pass through seventeen mountain docks to load and unload goods, which would cause some delays. So, it was about two months per trip, three trips a year, taking up half a year. Back then, the intercontinental ferries that traded with the Great Wall of Sword Qi mostly made two round trips to Upside-down Mountain a year.

Before the Old Daoist Priest left Fallen Mountain, he only made one final request, asking Cui Dongshan and Zhu Lian to relay it to Chen Ping’an: the survival of Gold Summit Temple in Tongye Continent was unimportant, but Shao Yuanran must be kept alive.

The implication was that no matter how Fallen Mountain and Gold Summit Temple fought, no matter how many people died in the latter or if the Ancestral Hall was torn down, Shao Yuanran could not be touched. The true Daoist lineage of Gold Summit Temple must not be extinguished. The Daoist tradition of Gold Summit Temple was extremely obscure, traceable back to the Louguan School, which “built towers with grass to observe the stars and assess the energies.”

Chen Ping’an and Cui Dongshan had previously planned to choose a site for the Lower Sect, occupying the “Tianquan” position that served as the connection point between the Dipper Body and the Dipper Handle, not only protecting太平 Mountain, but also completely disrupting Gold Summit Temple’s layout of seven visible and two hidden locations.

Once Cui Dongshan chose this place to establish the sect, Du Hanling of Gold Summit Temple would likely breathe a sigh of relief.

However, even if the two sides became semi-neighbors in the future, it was unknown whether Du Hanling would personally come to offer congratulations or send Lu Ying, the chief offering of the Daoist temple, to test the waters.

Mi Yu found Chen Ping’an and said softly, “Lord Hidden Official, I have an immature suggestion.”

Chen Ping’an said unhappily, “Immature? Then wait until it’s ripe before telling me.”

Mi Yu was left speechless.

First, there was 彩雀府, then there was 珠钗岛. Chen Ping’an hadn’t settled these two accounts with Great Sword Immortal Mi yet.

“You’re corrupting the atmosphere of my Fallen Mountain.”

Mi Yu braced himself and said, “I want Xiao Mo to serve as the chief offering of the Lower Sect. I’ll continue to retain my position as second seat of Fallen Mountain and stay here to cultivate. As long as there’s a need for my strength, I won’t slack off in the slightest.”

Chen Ping’an shook his head and said, “This matter cannot be done for the time being. I have an agreement with Xiao Mo. He’s serving as my deathsworn bodyguard for a limited time. His current offering status is just a smokescreen. When the agreed time is up, then Xiao Mo’s departure or stay will be truly decided.”

Mi Yu said, “With Xiao Mo’s temperament, plus his affinity for Fallen Mountain,”

Chen Ping’an still shook his head and said, “That’s the matter, but the principle is not the same.”

Mi Yu was sincerely convinced. “No wonder when I went to Spring Banner House, I could only be a doorman in the accounting room.”

“Mi Yu has always been Mi Lan Yao of the Great Wall of Sword Qi.”

Chen Ping’an added, “And he’s still the top dog of our Summer Resort Palace.”

If Pei Qian got a headache when she met Guo Zhujiu, then Great Sword Immortal Mi got an even bigger headache when he thought of those supremely intelligent young sword cultivators at the Summer Resort Palace. Their words were too cutting. What sword skills and talent that were both unparalleled, and then meritorious service that made him Sword Immortal Mi, what jade-pure and flower-like first among the peers…

Chen Ping’an suddenly said, “Did Chief Zhou invite you to Flower God Mountain in Cloud Grotto Blessed Land? Have you heard of Rouge Scroll?”

Mi Yu said decisively, “I was not invited, and I’ve never heard of it!”

Chen Ping’an chuckled, “Little Rice Grain doesn’t say so. She not only said that you are skilled at poetry duels and have literary talent as big as a bowl, but she also swore, full of confidence, that she would do her part to evaluate the Rouge Rankings of Chief Zhou’s Flower God Mountain.”

Mi Yu looked helpless and began to play dumb.

Great Sword Immortal Mi had barely left when Chen Lingjun followed closely behind.

Chen Lingjun tentatively said, “Master, let’s discuss something.”

Chen Ping’an asked with a smile, “Because of your amazing talent, coupled with diligent cultivation, you’re about to break through again? Planning to travel the river again?”

Chen Lingjun was momentarily speechless.

This time, he shamelessly followed the wind-kite ferry south to Tongye Continent, and Chen Lingjun certainly had some selfish motives, but this matter was rather difficult to bring up.

Chen Ping’an said bluntly, “Forget about being the guardian offering of the Lower Sect. I’ve already discussed it with Dongshan. I plan to have Hongxia serve as the Right Protector of the ancestral mountain of the Lower Sect.”

Chen Lingjun scratched his head and said he understood.

He was a little disappointed, but it was nothing. A little bit of worry could be solved with a pot of wine.

The candidates for the guardian offering of the Lower Sect, besides Hongxia, who had successfully transformed into a dragon after traveling the river, also included Pei Xiang, the Lord of the Fox Kingdom, but the latter was pending.

Chen Ping’an reached out and pressed the head of the blue-robed boy, gently shaking it, and said with a smile, “When you reach the Jade Purity Realm one day, I’ll let you be the Left Protector of Fallen Mountain. Isn’t that the same as a guardian offering? The position is even bigger.”

Chen Lingjun shook his head, feeling dizzy.

Chen Ping’an spoke frankly, “Little Rice Grain strongly recommended this, Pei Qian seconded and agreed, and Nuanshu didn’t object. Since you’re so well-regarded, I’ll agree.”

Who didn’t know that the Bamboo Lodge lineage of Fallen Mountain was the most favored by the Mountain Master and had the most say?

Chen Lingjun suddenly understood. No wonder that clumsy girl Nuanshu had inexplicably taken the initiative to find him a while ago and said some silly things, telling him to cultivate well and not to fail the expectations of their master.
Chen Lingjun nodded vigorously, “Master, you can rest assured a thousand and a hundred times over, I will definitely break through my realm as soon as possible.”

Chen Pingan reminded him, “Hasty work makes waste, but when you say ‘Expedite what can be done slowly,’ I mean don’t delay. When you say ‘Slowly do what must be done quickly,’ I mean to be steady and make no mistakes.”

Chen Lingjun grinned, “Later, I’ll have Nalan Yu Die write it on a bamboo slip and place it on the desk in Luopo Mountain as my motto.”

A figure in a green robe stood with hands clasped in his sleeves, a gentle expression on his face. A young boy in blue robes stood with his arms crossed, his eyebrows lively and bright.

This was their own lower sect.

Cui Dongshan, Immortal Realm.

Zhong Qiu, a martial artist at the peak of the Distant Wanderer Realm.

Cui Wei, a Yuan Ying Realm sword cultivator. His direct disciple, Yu Xiehui, was also a sword cultivator.

Cao Qinglang, a Dragon Gate Realm Qi refiner, was about to become a Golden Core guest.

Chief Offering Mi Yu, a Jade Purity Realm sword cultivator stuck in a bottleneck. This bottleneck was bottomless, and breaking through seemed a distant dream. Reaching Jade Purity was difficult, which was why Mi Yu had made a fool of himself at the Sword Qi Great Wall. Now, breaking through the Jade Purity bottleneck was even harder.

Sui Youbian, a Yuan Ying Realm sword cultivator listed in the ancestral hall of the lower sect, would take her eldest disciple, Cheng Chaolu, to occupy a mountain peak for cultivation, which she would personally name “Sweeping Flower Terrace.”

Yu Xiehui and Cheng Chaolu, two sword immortal seedlings from the Sword Qi Great Wall, were both the first disciples of their respective masters.

Shao Poxian, a remnant of the former Zhu Ying Dynasty and a member of the Zhu Ying Dugu clan, was the crown prince in disguise, a Yuan Ying Realm sword cultivator. This was the reason why Jin Qing, the Mountain Lord of the Central Peak, treated Luopo Mountain with such unprecedented courtesy, conceding in matters of buying and selling within his mountain territory, with Cui Dongshan yielding, then Chen Pingan yielding, essentially giving money to Luopo Mountain.

The maid Meng Long, a Sea Gazing Realm cultivator, was from the prestigious Meng clan of the former Zhu Ying Dynasty.

Shi Qiu, a Cave Dwelling Realm cultivator.

The two earth immortal ghosts residing in “talisman leather sacks” were a couple who shared life and death. They were diligent and taciturn on the ferry.

Then there were the three fallen cultivators from the Jade Ziggurat’s Hall of Gentle Grace. They were temporarily acting as guest elders of the lower sect. Restoring the incense and orthodoxy of the Jade Ziggurat was as difficult as ascending to heaven. Nowadays, the immortal families of Tongye Continent all held the same view on the calamity that befell the Jade Ziggurat, summing it up with eight characters: “Opening the door to robbers, reaping what they sowed.”

Therefore, the three former disciples of the Hall of Gentle Grace did not appear at today’s gathering.

Chen Pingan didn’t ask why, as he had entrusted all matters of the lower sect, big or small, to Cui Dongshan.

In addition, there was the Wind Kite Ferry connecting the upper and lower sects.

There was the Chief Steward, Chang Ming, who oversaw the rules, the Second Steward, Jia Sheng, the accountant Zhang Jiazhen, and the small abacus Nalan Yu Die.

The Wind Kite Ferry would continue south, passing through Taoye Ferry of the Great Spring Dynasty, the Jade Regulation Sect, and finally reaching the Exorcising Mountain Ferry located at the southernmost tip of Tongye Continent.

Chen Pingan did not travel far on the ferry. Instead, he took Xiao Mo, Pei Qian, and Cao Qinglang with him, riding the wind south on a tour. Of course, it wasn’t just sightseeing, otherwise Chen Pingan wouldn’t have left behind Guo Zhujiu, Zhao Shuxia, and Zhao Luan.

Chen Pingan had his own private considerations and affections for each of his direct disciples, but he had to act impartially.

Only because Cao Qinglang was the definite choice for the next sect master, and his lower sect was a “river dragon” crossing continents to travel south to Tongye Continent, he needed to familiarize himself with some of the local powers of Tongye Continent as soon as possible. Moreover, he had promised Huang Yi Yun of the Pushan Cloud Grass Hall in Chief Zhou’s Cloud Grotto blessed land that he would bring his disciple Pei Qian to visit as a guest in the future.

Besides the Prayer for Rain immortal incantation and the Cloud Water Body learned from the Nine Truths Immortal Hall, Chen Pingan had taught them to Cao Qinglang and Zhao Luan before leaving the lower sect. Of course, there was also Chai Wu, the little girl who liked to drink at least half a catty of spirits every day, but Xiao Mo would teach her instead, as Chen Pingan really couldn’t teach her.

Before setting off, Guo Zhujiu asked Senior Sister with a grin if she wanted to travel far with her.

Pei Qian said, “Of course I do.”

Guo Zhujiu waved her hand, “Then Senior Sister, just consider me traveling far with you. I can lie at home and travel the world without leaving my doorstep, making a big profit.”

Pei Qian could only be speechless.

Regarding the matter of hanging a portrait in the ancestral hall of the lower sect, Cui Dongshan had mentioned his idea while climbing the mountain, planning to ask a mountain friend from the Central Earth Divine Continent to help paint a portrait of their master.

It was a painting master renowned alongside Wu Daozi, nicknamed Gu Xiaqiu. Both were revered as painting saints in the vast world, each with their own merits. One was meticulous and realistic, wonderful throughout the world, while the other was imaginative and vivid, conveying the spirit through freehand brushwork. The former and Bai Ye came from the same dynasty and were close in age. Before becoming a cultivator, Wu was already praised as “having exhausted the mysteries of painting before the age of twenty.” The emperor even issued a special order that he could not paint without an edict, the reason being “fearing the dissipation of divine energy and disturbing the spirits of the country.” The latter’s skill, especially in the matter of adding the finishing touch to the eyes, was described by Zheng Juzhong of White Emperor City as “unprecedented since the beginning of sentient beings.”

Both were skilled in painting immortals, Buddhas, gods, and ghosts, so it was a great honor for temples and Taoist temples in the Central Earth Divine Continent to invite one of the painting saints to create murals.

The portrait of the Literary Saint that hung in literary temples throughout the world was created by Wu.

The Old Scholar was very satisfied back then, but now he wasn’t so satisfied. During his travels to the Jade Buried River Biyou Palace in Tongye Continent and the Spring Mountain Academy in Treasure Bottle Continent, he wasn’t immediately recognized, so it was clear that the portrait, though resembling the real person, lacked the indescribable essence.

So the Old Scholar returned to the Central Earth Divine Continent and found the painting saint, patting the old man on the shoulder. The Old Scholar sighed and said with a resentful look, “Since we’re friends, I won’t say much. After all, I was the one who came to you for a portrait, so I can’t blame anyone. Hurry up, get a pot of wine. Let’s use our grudges to soak the wine, just consider it a laugh.”

The old man was so angry that he immediately tilted his head and patted his cheek, “Where’s that thing? Where did it go? Did someone steal it?”

In fact, Cui Dongshan had already sent two portraits of their master to that Old Gu.

One was of Master when he was a teenager on Osmanthus Island, and the other was of the young Hidden Official attending the Literary Temple Council.

If Old Gu dared to be sloppy, dared to paint poorly, unlike, and not lifelike enough, then Cui Dongshan wouldn’t care about friendship or old acquaintances.

Cui Dongshan also had a requirement: their master must be in a green robe with a sword on his back.
The sky was clear and the earth tranquil. Amidst towering mountains and steep valleys, the mountain wind roared and white rapids surged. Above the boundless sea of clouds and the mighty rivers, a figure in azure robes led the way, riding the wind on a long journey, his sleeves billowing in the breeze.

He gazed down upon the mortal realm, the land and rivers spread out before him.

The group occasionally paused, leisurely strolling.

A young official from the River Conservancy, his robes worn and hands chapped with frostbite, was being berated by an old river worker who accused him of spouting nonsense.

Elsewhere, a banquet was in full swing, with poets and scholars composing verses beside a winding stream. As soon as a poem was written, a maiden would set it to music, her slender fingers tapping on fragrant sandalwood, her voice like a nightingale, her dance like a swallow. It was a scene of peace and prosperity.

A minor official from the Ministry of Works’ Bureau of Materials, carrying an inventory document, galloped on horseback, dismounted in haste, and hurried to seek an audience with his superior. The gatekeeper refused him entry, and the official’s pleas were in vain. He was even told to “scram.” Covered in dust, he could only squat by the roadside, gazing longingly at the gate, hoping his superior, a man of noble birth, would not be too drunk to attend to him upon returning to the capital.

In a place of exquisite beauty, the water was a silken ribbon, the mountains like jade hairpins. The evening mist lingered around the deep trees, and the setting sun cast its gentle rays upon the high towers.

The immortal masters in the mountains were exceptionally busy, rebuilding their ancestral hall. They had even hired a Taoist master skilled in painting to adorn the beams and pillars with five vibrant dragons. Though the eyes were yet to be painted, the dragons already possessed an imposing aura, their scales seeming to stir, conjuring mist and rain.

For hundreds of miles around, the mountains were being quarried, and money was being spent in the surrounding counties to purchase old timber from abandoned government offices and dilapidated houses. Carriages filled with exotic flowers, rare herbs, antiques, and curios were converging on the mountain from all directions.

Taking advantage of the crowd dispersing from the ancestral hall, the figure in azure robes led his companions, sneaking in stealthily.

Pei Qian had once passed through this place and chatted with an old immortal master who was buying wine in the mountain town.

The immortals of this mountain had never left their homeland to venture into the Five Colored World, resulting in the deaths of many registered cultivators.

Chen Ping An used water magic combined with talisman techniques to paint the eyes of a black dragon on a beam, almost causing it to transform and ascend to immortality like a true immortal.

Then, he pressed his two fingers together, touched the dragon’s forehead, and lightly tapped it, bestowing upon it a portion of pure water essence before allowing it to return to its place on the beam.

Night fell.

On the crest of the undulating mountains, a bridal bed, large as a pavilion, was being carried through the air. It was exquisitely crafted, intricately carved, and magnificently beautiful.

Like the grand procession of a high-ranking official in the mortal world, two groups of imps and goblins served as aides and clerks. A herald cleared the way, ringing a gong to warn bystanders to make way and keep silent. Behind them were attendants holding up peacock feather fans, large umbrellas, and banners.

Ahead, several figures suddenly stopped, arcing slightly to land on a mountaintop off the main route.

A woman rolled up a book and used it to lift the curtain of the bed. She frowned slightly, looking down at the distant mountaintop.

Those foreign Qi refiners looked unfamiliar and did not seem like ordinary cultivators.

After a moment’s hesitation, she decided against causing trouble, lowered the curtain, and instructed her entourage to continue on their way.

Xiao Mo noticed the book in the Mountain God’s wife’s hand and chuckled, “It’s the ‘Twenty-Four Flower Messengers Impression Collection,’ created by a guest elder from a Hundred Flowers Paradise. According to a landscape gazette from the Eternal Spring Palace, it’s on the list with your ‘Myriad Sword Immortal Impression Collection,’ but its ranking is far below yours.”

Chen Ping An was bewildered. “What list?”

Xiao Mo explained, “It’s a newly released ranking from a celestial mansion in the Frosty Continent, selecting the best impression collections of the past millennium. Your ‘Myriad Sword Immortal Impression Collection’ is ranked third. They’ve even published all ten collections on the list, and they’re selling extremely well both on and off the mountain.”

Pei Qian whispered, “They’re being truly unethical. When Master travels to the Frosty Continent in the future, he’ll have to demand payment.”

Chen Ping An smiled and dismissed it.

Since they had stopped here, Chen Ping An simply had Xiao Mo and the others start a fire to cook a meal.

Cao Qinglang asked, “Has Master decided on a name for the lower sect?”

Chen Ping An nodded. “Yes, Dongshan came up with it, and it’s excellent.”

Of the group, only Cao Qinglang did not drink.

Even Chen Ping An’s role as a teacher had no effect.

Excellent, worthy of being his favorite student, possessing his own opinions.

He glanced at Pei Qian. Her alcohol tolerance was good, also excellent, his travels had not been wasted.

Because Cao Qinglang did not drink, Chen Ping An naturally thought of Liu Wudi, the champion drinker of the Taiwei Sword Sect. He had to immediately send a flying sword message to remind Liu Jinglong to stop by the Dali capital on his way to the lower sect’s celebration and help Han Zhoujin, the formation master of the Earthly Branch lineage, with his formations. Fortunately, he had already informed Han Zhoujin in advance. He believed that Liu Jinglong would enjoy his visit to the immortal inn and leave satisfied.

Liu Jinglong, it seems my friends are not as good as your friends.

A crescent moon hung in the sky, and the mountain wind rustled through the trees. Chen Ping An held his wine bowl, looked up at the bright moon, then back down, and drank it all in one gulp. He had already decided how to promote the reputation of the stream in his Immortal Capital Mountain, “The round moon in the sky, the second spring on earth.” As for the first and third springs, he did not know, and he did not care who contended for them.

Pei Qian asked, “Master, what’s the name of the lower sect?”

Chen Ping An smiled. “Let me keep you in suspense for a little while longer.”

Before Cui Dongshan left Fuping, he had suggested in a heartfelt voice that the lower sect be named the Azure Ripple Sword Sect.

However, Cui Dongshan had not forgotten to add that Master’s name would definitely be better, and he only hoped to provide some inspiration.

Chen Ping An thought it was very good, the best. Without any hesitation, he discarded his own backup names.

A drunken swordsman peers into the land of intoxication, his Dao heart as big as the heavens and earth, his world as narrow as a wine cup, history short, his spirit long. Only I smile, stroking Azure Ripple, the three-foot sword in my hand has never failed me in my life.