Outside the courtyard gates, Xiao Luan stood, aflutter with apprehension, beside Wu Yi. She couldn’t fathom the identity of the veiled woman in the emerald robes.

Could it truly be Ning Yao, the legendary Sword Immortal? But the woman carried no sword, nor was a sword-chest slung across her back.

And if it were truly Ning Yao, why shroud her face so?

News of Ning Yao’s departure from the Five Colors Domain and her arrival in the Great Li capital had whispered through the ranks of mountain spirits and land deities. Yet, across the Bottle Continent, a silent pact seemed to hold; not a single mountain spirit, not a solitary gazette dared to commit the matter to written word.

Wu Yi, having overheard Xiao Luan’s unspoken anxieties, furrowed his brow. Devoid of any notion of keeping family scandals veiled, he stated plainly, “My younger brother has not mentioned this matter to me.”

“The Cold Food River’s rank is merely akin to the Jade Dew River of Red Candle Town. For my brother to leap two ranks to fill the Iron Talisman River’s vacancy is sheer delusion.”

“Xiao Luan, why not scheme for the water deity’s seat of the Jade Dew River, held by Ye Qingzhu? It’s a mere single rank. Approach Mountain Lord Chen; he and Sun Dengxian are such close companions. He would surely grant you this favor.”

Xiao Luan shook her head vehemently. Such a course was utterly unthinkable.

*You*, Wu Yi, were the architect of her misfortune! Had you not coerced her into those shameful deeds, would she, Xiao Luan, now shrink from seeking Mountain Lord Chen’s aid?

Understanding dawned upon Wu Yi, and he chuckled ruefully. “My fault, indeed. I am the clumsy matchmaker who forced the bond.”

Xiao Luan’s fair cheeks flushed crimson as she bit her lip.

Wu Yi declared, “I dug the pit, so I shall fill it. Before I depart Ziyang Prefecture, I shall venture to the Cold Food River’s water palace and ascertain their intentions. In any event, I shall strive to secure you a substantive post. Either a single rank promotion or a plum, lateral appointment. But I offer no guarantee of success. Await my tidings within the month.”

Xiao Luan felt a great weight lift from her shoulders. She offered the venerable Old Ancestor of the Cave of Enlightenment a heartfelt thank you, promising, should he succeed, to champion the promotion of Gao Niang of the Iron Writ River to the position of water deity of the White Egret River.

Wu Yi’s expression shifted, his eyes widening in surprise. He abruptly altered his tone, inquiring, “If I could persuade the Emperor of the Yellow Court Kingdom and conclude negotiations with the Great Li Ministry of Rites to annex the hundreds of leagues of the Iron Writ River bordering Ziyang Prefecture to the White Egret River’s dominion, and furthermore, advise both courts to elevate the White Egret River’s divine rank by a single level, would you be willing?”

Xiao Luan’s eyes shone. Such a boon?! Willing? How could she be otherwise?!

Xiao Luan inquired softly, “But River God Gao…?”

Wu Yi waved a dismissive hand. “I have other arrangements. He shall not be shortchanged.”

Inwardly, she scoffed. As in that long-ago banquet, someone still sought to orchestrate matters. His sole skill lay in commanding the stage without appearing to overreach.

For this maneuver would greatly benefit Ziyang Prefecture. Wu Yi needed not expend a shred of personal favor; all rested with the Fallen Peak, which would negotiate with the Yellow Court Kingdom and the Great Li Ministry of Rites. Doubtless, the ever-helpful Great Mountain Lord Wei of the Northern Peak, who seemed joined at the hip with the Fallen Peak, would lend his clandestine aid.

Thus, the White Egret River would absorb the Iron Writ River, and henceforth, a reciprocal exchange would surely flow between it and Ziyang Prefecture. Gao Niang, too, would receive a prize, a stroke of unexpected fortune. Wu Yi had gleaned from Chen Ping’an’s veiled words that the Great Li court would soon issue a decree to the vassal Yellow Court Kingdom, decreeing a newly recognized river in Yun Prefecture, with a source known as the Wu Stream. Gao Niang could resign from the Iron Writ River and immediately assume the mantle of river deity there, rebuilding the shrines, fashioning golden idols, and accepting incense offerings. That fellow, Huang Chu of Ziyang Prefecture, was blessed by fortune. First, Wu Yi departed, and now, he would gain two powerful allies in the form of river deities each raised in rank?

Having concluded their business, Wu Yi turned his gaze towards the veiled woman, whose cultivation remained inscrutable. “Daoist friend, are you a registered cultivator of the Fallen Peak?”

From beneath the veil, Qing Tong’s cool voice rippled like water over stones. “Unfortunately, I hail from the Wutong Leaf Continent, a mere nobody.”

Before departing Ziyang Prefecture, Chen Ping’an presented Wu Yi with a transcription in his own hand, a token of gratitude.

The original, Chen Ping’an intended as a family heirloom, one of several calligraphic works he’d bartered for with wine from a young county lieutenant years ago.

He even hesitated to use it for “character training,” so cherished was it in the bamboo pavilion.

The script contained but two lines: “If you hold my copy, mirroring yourself in the water, fear not that the characters will transform into dragons. If you hold my copy and wander by night, let the demons and spirits find no escape.”

Two seals were affixed: “Young Dragon’s Vigor” and “Thin Dragon’s Spirit Stout.”

Wu Yi, receiving this transcription, revealed a rare, genuine smile, and with uncommon courtesy, returned the young Hidden Official’s greeting with a “ten-thousand blessings” salute.

Thereafter, Chen Ping’an led Qing Tong towards the southeastern boundary of the Bottle Continent.

In the Azure Phoenix Kingdom stood a River God’s shrine, encompassing some ten acres. Its shrewd custodian, blessed with a keen business sense, charged varying fees for inscriptions on its walls, depending on the “location.”

And once inscribed, the shrine would diligently safeguard and protect the inscriptions, claiming they would endure for centuries.

In the covered corridors of the fourth courtyard, alongside the calligraphy of Vice-Minister Liu of Lion Garden, three other sets of characters adorned the nearby white walls.

Revisiting the place, Chen Ping’an, hands clasped behind his back, gazed at the inscriptions, his eyes narrowing in amusement.

Pei Qian’s inscription began with a crooked horizontal stroke, yet she wrote the four characters with utmost earnestness: “Heaven Earth Merge Qi.”

She ended with, “Pei Qian and Master visited here.”

Upon seeing those four characters, Qing Tong felt a rare pang of guilt.

For in a Transcendent painting, Chen Ping’an and the Pure Yang Daoist had exchanged words.

Lu Yan had uttered, “Spirit merges with the Great Void, Dao traverses beyond Heaven and Earth. Qi gains the wondrousness of the Five Elements, sun and moon within an inch.”

Could it be that those lines yielded the four characters, “Heaven Earth Merge Qi”?

Zhu Lian, with a flourish of cursive script, had penned a stirring prose, a hundred-odd characters, in dry, pale ink, a single breath, like dragons soaring and serpents dancing.

Chen Ping’an, in contrast, had crafted regular and proper calligraphy.

Qing Tong lifted the corner of her veil, gazed upward at the two lengthy couplets on the wall, murmured them to herself, and asked, “Did you write these?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “A spontaneous expression.”

Qing Tong observed, “This River God’s shrine shall undoubtedly benefit greatly.”

Chen Ping’an did not enter the River God’s main hall. Instead, from his sleeve, he produced three sticks of water incense, ignited them, and watched the smoke swirl and rise.

As if unwilling to disturb the local River God, Chen Ping’an deliberately carved out a small realm of separation. Once the three sticks of incense had burned to ash, he led Qing Tong away from the shrine.

Concealing their forms, they walked along the riverbank. Qing Tong asked, “Are there more places to visit?”

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “Not a shred of your merit is expended, and you get to accompany me on a leisurely journey, spared even the cost of a single copper coin. Still not content? A Flight Ascendant, traversing continents, is bound by countless rules.”

Qing Tong smiled wryly. “True enough.”

After a moment of hesitation, Qing Tong inquired, “Why have you not asked me whether I possess any knowledge of Sword Cultivator Liu Cai’s trail?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “The trade is far too unfavorable.”

Qing Tong looked perplexed. “A trade? What trade?”

Chen Ping’an explained, “It would either be a boon or a bane, with the odds evenly split. If a boon, then it’s accounted for. But if a bane, we fall into Zou Zi’s trap. Is that not a loss?”

Qing Tong chuckled. “Can accounts be tallied thus?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “Indeed. It *must* be tallied thus.”

Qing Tong was fortunate to be spared the need to relocate. Otherwise, encountering cultivators of her caliber, especially independent Flight Ascendants, would be a bitter ordeal.

One wrong thought gives rise to a hundred misdeeds. Guard against it as if it were a floating bladder crossing the sea; permit not a single needle’s worth of leakage. Saving others is saving oneself.

To seek complete virtue in all things, maintain a clear conscience at all times. Cultivate as if climbing a cloud-piercing precious tree, requiring the support of countless other trees. Entering the mountain is but exiting the mountain.

Chen Ping’an smiled gently. “Someone once said that a person has two ages, one lived in their own world, and one lived in the world of others. The former is the nominal age, the latter the chronological age.”

Qing Tong frowned. “Spare me the esoteric pronouncements. Provide an example.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Then I shall offer one distant and one nearby. You, Qing Tong, have lived for ten thousand years plus several thousand more. Do you believe you possess a greater understanding of this world, beyond yourself, than Zou Zi? The breadth, length, and density of your Dao Heart are clearly lesser than Zou Zi’s. And there is my Right Protector, Mi Li. She has dwelled at Dumb Lake for so many years and will reside at the Fallen Peak for even longer. Her mind is simpler than that of many at the Fallen Peak.”

Some, like Chen Ping’an himself and his student, Cui Dongshan, had carved into their hearts a well or pool of unfathomable depth.

Qing Tong grudgingly conceded the point, then suddenly said, “Are the distant and nearby examples not reversed in order?”

She and Chen Ping’an were close at hand, while the Fallen Peak’s Right Protector was far away.

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Contemplate it yourself.”

Qing Tong asked casually, “‘Someone’… who is that?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Far away, yet close at hand.”

Thus, Qing Tong’s curiosity towards the small water monster of Dumb Lake, whose reputation preceded her, grew even stronger.

Chen Ping’an cautioned, “A word of warning. If you are discourteous to me, it is of little consequence. I am affable and bear no grudges. But if you ever have the chance to meet Mi Li and dare to treat our Right Protector with disrespect, I need not lift a finger.”

Rouse not the Warm Tree or Mi Li of the Fallen Peak.

Speak not to me of realms and cultivation.

Qing Tong inquired, “Does the small water monster possess an extraordinary lineage?”

Chen Ping’an stifled a chuckle, his expression softening. “Mi Li is quite formidable beside my elder brother Zuo, and she accompanies Senior Brother Junqian on patrols. She has served tea to the Old Abbot and offered melon seeds to a Fourteenth Realm cultivator. Those two predecessors endured less hardship because Mi Li helped deflect unwanted attention. Do you still believe she possesses no lineage?”

Qing Tong asked tentatively, “Is it because she has a powerful backing?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head, tsking. “If you were to journey to the Fallen Peak, you would surely succumb to the climate.”

Qing Tong was thoroughly perplexed.

Chen Ping’an said, “Let us set forth.”

Qing Tong grunted an assent, glancing about. Alas, there was wind but no moon.

The moon in the heavens, the moon on earth. The moon shouldered while seeking knowledge, the moon beheld from a lofty balcony, the moon shattered and reborn in a bamboo basket.

The wind on the mountain, the wind by the water. The wind beneath a sword-borne journey, the wind turning the pages of a sage’s book, the wind scattering duckweed in chance encounters.

Above the Great Dike, near the Great Li secondary capital in the Bottle Continent’s center,

floated an imitation White Jade City, crafted jointly by the Great Li Dynasty and the Mohists, with immeasurable wealth.

Qing Tong was curious as to why the true ruler of the Azure Heavens remained indifferent.

But then, Dao the Second’s Mountain Seal had fallen upon the Vast Sky, and the Confucian Temple had seemed unconcerned.

Qing Tong muttered, “Shall I remain outside and await you?”

Any cultivator targeted by this imitation White Jade City, whose escape techniques were lacking, was said to be vulnerable to its wrath, capable of slaying even Flight Ascendants.

Furthermore, this place was one of the Embroidered Tiger’s lifeblood projects.

Truth be told, Qing Tong needed not overly fear the young Hidden Official. But in the face of the renowned Cui Chan, even though the Embroidered Tiger no longer walked the earth, Qing Tong dared not act recklessly upon this land.

For he was one who could match wits with Zhou Mi of the Sea of Letters, without yielding an inch.

Long ago, when Cui Chan was still the First Disciple of the Sage of Letters, he had accompanied the Old Scholar on a journey to Lotus Paradise.

Qing Tong had personally witnessed his exceptional brilliance.

Had Cui Chan been a guest of the Demon-Suppressing Tower, Qing Tong believed that, even with Zou Zi’s directives, she would have never dared to scheme against Cui Chan.

Besides, who would be scheming whom?

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “Ascend the tower with me.”

Qing Tong hesitated.

*Hidden Official, surely you will not burn the bridge after crossing, dismantle the ladder after climbing.*

*Lure me inside, then close the doors to kill me?*

Chen Ping’an said, exasperated, “Are you only good at bullying your own?”

Qing Tong was speechless. Was she less brave than a Sixth Realm martial artist from the Yellow Court Kingdom?

She had no choice but to follow Chen Ping’an, stepping into the void to ascend the tower. Arriving at the highest watchtower, they encountered an old cultivator guarding the place.

The old man wore a tall hat and wide robes, tall and gaunt, with a cold gaze and an aloof air.

Upon seeing him, Qing Tong’s Dao Heart jolted. She immediately dispelled her veil and illusions, bowing deeply, then stood silently.

For she had recognized his identity.

He was not a Sage of the Confucian Temple, and he would show no deference to even the Most Sagely Teacher and the Little Master.

No wonder the Great Li Dynasty was so unyielding towards the Confucian Temple.

But wasn’t this person supposed to have long since perished?

The old man merely nodded in acknowledgment to Qing Tong before turning to Chen Ping’an. “Once or twice is acceptable. But not thrice.”

First, Ning Yao of the Five Colors Domain. Then Qing Tong of the Wutong Leaf Continent.

And that Sword Cultivator Mo Sheng, serving as a guard.

Did the Hidden Official believe that a journey could only be undertaken with a Flight Ascendant at his side?

Seeing that Chen Ping’an was about to speak, to explain himself, the old man shook his head. “I ask not the cause, only see the result.”

The first time was out of respect for the Sage of Letters, a rare colloquy on the Dao, where victory and defeat were secondary. It was like a wine lover indulging in drink, or sharing a table with a kindred spirit. Who drank more or less was unimportant.

The second time was out of regard for Cui Chan, or rather, the bond between those two brothers.

Before the commencement of that great battle, the Old Scholar had sought him out, borrowing some books.

Except for the *Heavenly Questions*, the *Mountain Spirit*, *Crossing the River*, *Eastern Lord*, and *Summoning the Soul* had all been entrusted to the Old Scholar.

But a more critical scheme had been orchestrated by the old man and Cui Chan, jointly creating a “unique” celestial harmony for the Bottle Continent.

Effectively, establishing an additional twenty-four solar terms for the continent’s mountains and rivers.

At this, the old man’s expression softened. “Do you know why you awoke in the Althea Island Creation Grotto on the sea, and not in the Sword Qi Great Wall?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “This junior has never understood the matter. I humbly beseech Senior to enlighten me.”

The old man did not mince words. “There must be a reference point. The threshold is exceedingly high, requiring an object to be ‘immovable’, like an anchor firmly set.”

“Like the first ruler or the first weight in the world, whose length and weight must endure unchanged for millennia.”

“Did the Great Li National Preceptor, the Embroidered Tiger Cui Chan, or indeed, the entire Bottle Continent, have such an object?”

The old man pointed at Chen Ping’an. “It was your Little Martial Brother, you, who merged with half of the Sword Qi Great Wall.”

Chen Ping’an was dumbfounded.

The old man laid bare the secret. “After the war, vestiges of that celestial harmony remained in the Bottle Continent. Had you not slept in the Creation Grotto and returned to the Bottle Continent a few years earlier, it would have been detrimental to both you and the Bottle Continent.”

Cui Chan was truly ruthless. Within this imitation White Jade City, the two had engaged in a conversation. The old man had asked Cui Chan, “The matter is of grave import. Will you not inform Chen Ping’an?” Cui Chan’s response was that a disciple of the Sage of Letters was not so easily made. Such essential matters required no knowledge of the process, only the outcome.

The old man smiled. “Do you recall when you left the Book Brief Lake, traveling northward alone, spreading out bamboo slips on a mountaintop? I asked to have some.”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “Twenty-four bamboo slips were agreed upon, but in the end, Senior took nearly thirty. This junior acknowledges his inferiority to Senior’s haggling skills and talent for muddling the waters.”

Qing Tong almost couldn’t restrain herself. *You, Chen Ping’an, are but a direct disciple of the Sage of Letters. How can you speak to this Senior with such familiarity? Be respectful!*

Actually, there was a saying that floated around the Vast Sky. The greatest talents in the world dwell in the Confucian Temple. Half of the Confucian Temple’s greatest talents are in the lineage of the Sub-Sage.

However, in Qing Tong’s view, one should never provoke the direct disciples of the Sage of Letters.

Chen Ping’an asked, “May I implore Senior to light a stick of water incense?”

The old man asked with a smile, “Why would I need such merit from the Confucian Temple?”

Chen Ping’an was momentarily at a loss for words.

The old man omitted one detail: the young accountant on horseback had drifted off to sleep atop that mountaintop.

He was unaware that the old man who had conned him out of bamboo slips had led his horse and engaged him in a seemingly casual conversation, a gentle probing of the heart.

The old man recalled the young man’s unspoken words.

*No arguing, no arguing. I truly lack the strength. If I had consumed four of Green Wutong City’s cheap and delicious meat buns, perhaps I could try.*

So the old man quipped, “Can cold pork head be used as bun filling?”

Chen Ping’an did not prevaricate, bowing in farewell. “We shall take our leave, then.”

To his surprise, the old man chuckled. “Oh, right, reshaping the twenty-four solar terms is a significant amount of merit, truly substantial. Moreover, you may not be aware that it was not recorded in the Confucian Temple’s Book of Merit. Your Elder Brother Cui Chan set aside this inheritance, and I, in turn, have been holding it in trust. If I were to light this stick of water incense, it would have no connection to your merit. Do you accept this transaction?”

Qing Tong hastily warned Chen Ping’an via telepathy, “Don’t do it! Don’t be impulsive. It’s too costly, far too costly! Besides, the merit was intended for you by Cui Chan. Given this Senior’s age and seniority, he would not stoop to embezzling it. We can find a way to reclaim it…”

The old man, as if sensing Qing Tong’s thoughts, shook his head. “Unfortunately, I have an agreement with Cui Chan. While the merit belongs to Chen Ping’an, the method and means of retrieval rest with me, not with Chen Ping’an.”

Qing Tong was enraged. How could one be so shameless as to take advantage of another?

Chen Ping’an pondered for a moment, then nodded. “I accept.”

The old man was even more decisive. Upon Chen Ping’an’s assent, he waved his sleeve, returning the vast merit to Heaven and Earth, bestowing its bounty not merely upon the Bottle Continent.

The old man then brushed off his sleeves, clasped his hands behind his back, and asked with a smile, “Does it not pain you?”

Qing Tong knew not whether Chen Ping’an felt any pain. She was pained enough for him.

So great a store of Heavenly merit, almost a full page writ large in the Confucian Temple’s Book of Merit!

What transactions could it have purchased with so many mountain spirits and water deities?

Chen Ping’an said with a straight face, “It is acceptable.”

The old man smiled. “The deal is struck. I shall not see you off.”

Chen Ping’an suddenly said, “Senior, do not forget to transfer half of the merit to Flight Ascendant City of the Five Colors Domain. I only merged with half of the Sword Qi Great Wall, and the Sword Qi Great Wall is not mine.”

“As it should be.”

Only then did the old man’s expression soften, revealing his undisguised admiration. “Worthy of Cui Chan’s and Qi Jingchun’s Little Martial Brother.”

Qing Tong was once again stunned.

*These two are having a conversation as if it’s easy, yet even I, as an observer, am weary in heart.*

The old man flicked his sleeves and bowed to the younger man.

Chen Ping’an straightened his robes and returned the bow.

Chen Ping’an had arrived on the fifth day of the fifth month.

The old man departed on the fifth day of the fifth month.

They had met at the Book Brief Lake.

The figures of teachers and sages receded further and further into the distance.

Yet a figure that had once gazed at those backs would become a back to be viewed by the younger generations.

After the old man stood up, he patted Chen Ping’an’s shoulder. His expression was benevolent, like an elder in the family who saw a younger member with good prospects, and he said softly, “Good upbringing.”

Chen Ping’an straightened his back, his lips moved slightly, but in the end, he said nothing. His eyes were bright, and he nodded silently.

By the wutong tree,

Chen Ping’an opened his eyes and exhaled a long breath.

Xiao Mo immediately put away the sword qi permeated form, and asked softly, “My Lord, are you alright?”

Chen Ping’an nodded and smiled. “It went fairly smoothly.”

His elder brother Cui Chan had once “borrowed” characters from people.

One of them, “Mountain,” that gentleman had mentioned at the Forest of Merit, was the lifebond character of the Grand Libationer of the Book of Rites Academy.

Then, where was the character for “Water”?

Although that gentleman had never mentioned it, Chen Ping’an had long known.

It was naturally this old senior, whose Dao Field was at the Book Brief Lake, who had written the *Questions to Heaven*.

So, the “heart incense” of this senior would be the most efficacious water incense in the world.

In reality, senior and junior had an implicit understanding.

There was no need to tell Qing Tong this.

Qing Tong immediately put away that form and stretched, “Merit complete! Finally, it’s over!”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “It’s not over yet.”

Qing Tong fell back to the ground. She had been mentally prepared. Mountains and waters are interconnected. There was no reason for Chen Ping’an to only do business with a Water God, there were also Mountain Gods.

Qing Tong blankly looked at the sky, despondent, and complained, “Are you going to just go all the way?”

Chen Ping’an stood up, interlaced his fingers, and stretched, saying, “We can rest for a moment.”

While bored, Chen Ping’an faced the wutong tree, and began to walk backwards.

The moon hangs on the wutong, the wind blows through the trees on a clear day, rain, the moon shines on the sand like frost on a summer night.

Seeing that her Lord was in a good mood, Xiao Mo was slightly better to Qing Tong.

Chen Ping’an continued to walk backwards slowly, and smiled, “I saw Yang Zhi earlier, and heard that Bai Jing, who goes by many Daoist names, likes you.”

Seeing that Qing Tong had been fairly forthright in the imitation White Jade City, Chen Ping’an did not act as an informant.

Xiao Mo blushed, and felt as if her head was as big as a winnowing fan, filled with memories she did not want to recall.

Chen Ping’an said with a smile, “What’s so embarrassing? Why not learn from Old Chef, Sword Immortal Mi, Senior Zhou, and the others?”

Xiao Mo shook her head. “Mister Zhu once said that only an infatuated heart is most chic, those words woke me up, so when it comes to matters of love, there’s no one better to learn from than My Lord.”

Qing Tong suddenly had an understanding. Could this be the Fallen Peak’s customs?

Chen Ping’an began to practice the six-step walking stance backwards, stretching out his hands and pinching the sword seals, and said, “Earlier at the Yellow Court Kingdom Ziyang Prefecture, I obtained a very high rank sword pill, carefully refined by an enlightened immortal of the ancient West Mountain. Take a look first, and see if it’s suitable for you. If it is, then just take it. If it’s not, then who do you think it would be most suitable to give to? Right, the sword pill is called ‘Mud Pill’.”

At the Fallen Peak and the Immortal Capital Mountain, there seemed to be too many people who could refine this sword pill.

This made Chen Ping’an feel rather embarrassed.

In reality, Chen Ping’an had selfish intentions, personally he was more inclined to give it to his student, Guo Zhujiu.

He was just unsure whether it was suitable or not, fortunately he had Xiao Mo to help him evaluate it, and then make a decision later.

These days, people in the Vast Sky, when they think about Chen Ping’an’s actions at the Sword Qi Great Wall, tend to think more about the Hidden Official title, the tavern, the No Matters Plaque, Ning Yao, the summer escape palace…

But in reality, if we don’t talk about the results, and only talk about the heart, then the joys and sorrows are known only to himself, and not worth mentioning to others.

So Chen Ping’an was very grateful to the little girl who had beat the gong on the wall to encourage him.

He missed Guo Zhujiu and Pei Qian quarreling.

As he spoke, the miniature sword box emerged from Chen Ping’an’s sleeve, in addition to a string of golden characters.

Xiao Mo reached out and caught the sword box and those precious talismans, glanced at the characters and looked away, and nodded, saying, “Let me take a look at the sword pill.”

The so-called sword pill within the box was actually a slender, pitch-black sword light.

Xiao Mo pinched that sword light with two fingers, examined it with concentration for a moment, and then said, “My Lord, this thing is a burden for me, not suitable. From what I can see, it would be best to give it to a young sword cultivator lacking an earth attribute lifebond. Although cultivators other than sword cultivators can also refine it into a lifebond, becoming something like a half-sword cultivator, like My Lord in his early years, this is still a dangerous path, it’s extremely difficult to achieve a spirit heart and sword heart that are both in harmony, because refining this sword pill isn’t just about refining the sword, but more like inheriting a dwindling Daoist tradition. The person who refines the sword is probably going to have to make a trip to that immortal’s cave, so a cultivator’s aptitude isn’t the most important thing, fate is!”

Chen Ping’an said, “Then there’s no hurry.”

Xiao Mo said, “I’ll hold onto the sword box for My Lord.”

If something unexpected happened, she would handle it.

Chen Ping’an didn’t refuse, and continued to walk the stance backwards.

Qing Tong said silently, “Chen Ping’an, that Bai Jing? She’s one of the few sword cultivators, like Xiao Mo, both peak Flight Ascendant sword cultivators! If you can trick Xiao Mo into bringing her here, then one world would grow while the other shrinks, and it would be another feat to record on the Confucian Temple merit ledger!”

Chen Ping’an stared angrily, and said in a low voice, “Problem!”

Chen Ping’an quickly composed himself, and said, “I appreciate the sentiment, but don’t make suggestions blindly in the future.”

Qing Tong fell silent.

Chen Ping’an explained silently, “Do you think Bai Ze would sit idly by, and allow Xiao Mo to meet Bai Jing? If Xiao Mo goes to the Barrens, she might not be able to return to the Vast Sky if she’s not careful.”

Qing Tong was belatedly aware, and felt a shiver go down her spine.

Bai Ze’s terror… Qing Tong dared not think too much about it.

Chen Ping’an said softly, “Take a worst-case scenario, prepare for rainy days, think about things carefully, then everything else can be seen as turning for the better, little by little.”

Qing Tong pondered it carefully, “Seems to make sense.”

At the railing,

Lu Yan said, “It seems that Daoist Qing Tong is still ignorant of the fact that this was a chance of a lifetime for protecting and passing on the Dao.”

The Most Sagely Teacher nodded and smiled, “Let’s see when Daoist Qing Tong finally has an epiphany.”

Lu Yan asked, “That scattered merit in the imitation White Jade City, the amount was not small, will the Confucian Temple afterwards…?”

The Most Sagely Teacher shook his head, “Of course we will not give Chen Ping’an any extra compensation, Zou Zi’s saying, ‘Eating at the same table, each person carries their own bowl’, might be crude, but is not wrong in principle.”

Lu Yan nodded, Chen Ping’an was still a Confucian disciple who came from a Confucian lineage, this trip, although named as a trade, was still a scholar’s action.

The tall old gentleman stroked his beard and smiled, saying, “Those who know me say my heart is worried, those who don’t know me ask what I’m looking for.”

Lu Yan suddenly said, “If I remember correctly, Chen Ping’an is not even a sage yet, right? Has the Sage of Letters said anything?”

The Most Sagely Teacher laughed, “No one in the Confucian Temple is better at being protective than Old Scholar, just wait, there will come a day when Old Scholar can’t hold back anymore, and then he’ll put on a pained face, bring out a lot of reasons, other people can’t win if they argue, it’s annoying to hear, and you can’t not listen.”

Lu Yan smiled knowingly, “It’s a shame I haven’t been to the Confucian Temple to listen in on the meetings.”

The Most Sagely Teacher said, “This is simple, I’ll inform the Ritual Sage, and we’ll arrange for Pure Yang Daoist to sit next to Old Scholar, what do you think?”

Lu Yan shook his head. “Forget it.”

Chen Ping’an stopped walking, turned around, returned to his original place, and sat down, saying, “Continue on our way.”

Qing Tong lamented, “Such a busy life.”

Xiao Mo smiled, “Daoist Qing Tong, what did you say? I didn’t hear clearly, say it again.”

Qing Tong’s face stiffened, “It was nothing.”

Chen Ping’an closed his eyes, and placed his hands on his abdomen.

*I invite you again, sirs, into the dream.*

*I ask the sirs to borrow me ten thousand mountains.*

*Thinking about the six classics, thoughts beyond the seas, dreams of mountains, I am the host.*