Upon the summit of Beiyue’s Cloud-Draped Peak, a scene of ethereal beauty unfolded. Ancient pines, their boughs gnarled and reaching, stood sentinel over a figure reclining upon a jade chaise lounge. A man, his face cradled in one hand, seemed suspended between wakefulness and slumber, a hint of a smile playing upon his lips.

He was clad in a robe of purest white, his feet adorned with cloud-stepping shoes. A silken sash, vibrant with color, encircled his waist, and a golden ring graced his ear. Was he god, immortal, or phantom? His beauty transcended mortal description, like a vision sprung from a painter’s finest dream.

Legends whispered of the Five Mountain Lords of Bao Ping Continent, each renowned for their distinctive allure. Zhongyue’s Jin Qing, the eldest, possessed an air of venerable antiquity. The female Mountain Lord of Nanyue, Fan Junmao, was famed for her striking and spirited demeanor. The Dongyue Mountain Lord radiated celestial grace, while the Xiyue Lord embodied the spirit of a wandering knight.

But Beiyue’s Wei Bo, among the five, was universally acclaimed as the most beautiful, and thus, the most divine.

According to a certain well-informed, though diminutive, Ear-Reporting Spirit from Ruopo Mountain, the only creatures eagerly awaiting the nocturnal revels were the celestial maidens of noble lineage. A single, lingering glance at the slightly flushed cheeks of the tipsy Lord Wei was enough to intoxicate them, even without a drop of wine.

Upon hearing this, Chen Ping’an felt compelled to defend Wei Bo’s honor. He inquired of Xiaomili as to the source of such rumors.

Xiaomili, in turn, revealed that the tales originated with Bai Xuan, who had supposedly gleaned them from Jing Qing.

Furthermore, Jing Qing had reportedly urged Bai Xuan to attend the next night feast, hoping to dim Wei Bo’s luster and prevent the Mountain Lord from becoming too arrogant.

At that moment, Wei Bo opened eyes the color of molten gold, sat upright, and inquired with a gentle smile, “Where is Xiaomo?”

A loaded question, indeed.

Chen Ping’an chuckled, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “I advise you to cease your designs upon Xiaomo!”

Wei Bo responded with a sly grin. “Now you understand my plight, do you? Does my plea to your Ruopo Mountain to leave my bamboo groves untouched carry any weight? Was it not Xiaomili who, at your instigation, frequently visited Cloud-Draped Peak to count my bamboo?”

Qingtong, standing beside Chen Ping’an, peered through the veiled hat, studying the famed Mountain Lord. “These nocturnal feasts,” he remarked, “have become synonymous with Wei Bo of Cloud-Draped Peak.”

It was said that this Mountain Lord of a vast continent was once a remnant of the ancient Shu Land’s Divine Water Kingdom, demoted to a mere local Earth God. Yet, through some fortunate circumstance, he had gained the favor of the kingdom’s master strategist, Cui Chan, and ascended to the rank of Mountain Lord under the Dali Dynasty.

His rise and fall were a marvel to behold.

Now, it was known throughout Bao Ping and North Ju Lu Continents that Cloud-Draped Peak and Ruopo Mountain were allies, bound as closely as if they shared a single pair of trousers.

Yet, intriguingly, this was the first time the young lord of Ruopo Mountain had set foot upon Cloud-Draped Peak since his youth as a kiln apprentice. Wei Bo had taken residence on the mountain, assuming the mantle of Dali’s Beiyue Mountain Lord. Since that time, Wei Bo had frequently visited Ruopo Mountain, but Chen Ping’an had never sought to climb Cloud-Draped Peak until he returned from his journey through the Savage Lands, when he brought Xiaomo as a gift, so generous that Wei Bo eagerly anticipated their next meeting.

Chen Ping’an grinned. “I shall dispense with the pleasantries.”

After Wei Bo learned of Chen Ping’an’s intent to journey through the spirit world in dreams, he readily agreed, though he could not help but lament, “When I learned that you had seized the abundant water energies of the Yiluo River, I believed you would enter a period of seclusion. With a bit of luck, you might have had the opportunity to contend for the title of ‘First in Water Arts’ under Heaven. But alas, you cannot retain these water energies, and now, you forsake even the pursuit of merit.”

The Five Thunders Righteous Method of the Dragon and Tiger Mountain Celestial Master, the Fire Arts of Fire Dragon True Man, and the Earth Arts of Wei She of Aiai Continent were all said to be nearing perfection.

Chen Ping’an first became aware of his affinity for water through Wei Bo’s reminder.

Wei Bo cautioned, “The Mountain Lords of Dongyue and Xiyue may be unwilling to agree. Without the unanimous consent of the Five Mountain Lords, your efforts will be scattered, and the effects of your incense offering greatly diminished.”

The difficulty in dealing with mountain and water deities lay in the principle that “duty outweighed personal gain.” In the mortal world, people flocked to where profit lay, but in the divine realm, it was not so.

Wei Bo’s willingness to assist was not motivated solely by the promise of merit, as such avarice could taint his golden Mountain Lord body.

The prerequisite was that all the deities who would light a stick of incense must genuinely approve of Chen Ping’an himself.

Chen Ping’an was the critical “mountain and water incense courier.”

Chen Ping’an nodded, smiling. “I am prepared to be turned away, and that is why I came to you first, seeking a propitious start.”

Wei Bo inquired, “Shall I send word to my colleagues in the bureaucracy?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “It would make little difference, whether you did or not.”

Wei Bo nodded in agreement. The Five Mountain Lords were of equal rank, each beyond the other’s jurisdiction. Moreover, he shared no particularly close ties with those two Mountain Lords, and correspondence between their mountain lord residences was nothing more than a formality.

Chen Ping’an asked, “Has Ye Qingzhu changed her mind? Did she visit your mountain residence today to retract her petition to resign as the Water God of the Jade Liquid River?”

Wei Bo shook his head. “You are mistaken. On the contrary, Ye Qingzhu did come to Cloud-Draped Peak in a flurry, practically begging me not to allow it. She is more determined than ever to move elsewhere. She is not even hoping for an even transfer but is willing to accept a demotion. She has her eyes set on several rivers, with the sole commonality being their distance from Ruopo Mountain. She even threatened to file a complaint with the capital if Beiyue did not approve her request. As she spoke, her eyes turned red, filled with tears, a truly pitiable sight.”

Chen Ping’an stroked his chin. “That cannot be. I had a good conversation with the Water God at her residence on the Jade Liquid River. We spoke frankly and put aside our past grievances.”

Wei Bo smiled. “Even if she trusts your words, she trusts her instincts more.”

Chen Ping’an fell silent.

Wei Bo’s smile faded, his expression becoming serious. “This means you must be wary of your mind in future cultivation. Is the discrepancy between your true self and the image others perceive of you truly a small matter?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “I will be mindful of it.”

This was a true friend, indeed.

Wei Bo retrieved an object from his sleeve and handed it to Chen Ping’an. “This is a gift to celebrate the founding of your lower sect.”

Chen Ping’an glanced at the gift. “Have you no shame?”

It was one of the two semi-immortal weapons that Xiaomo had given to Wei Bo, the yellow jade ax that could suppress water energy, which our Great Mountain Lord was now using as his gift.

Fortunately, the sword box that Wu Yi had gifted was still with Xiaomo, or Chen Ping’an would have produced it to ask Wei Bo if he felt any remorse.

Wei Bo’s eyes narrowed with a smile, testing the waters. “Shall we forget about it, then?”

Chen Ping’an waved his hand, eyeing the insincere Mountain Lord and the miniature jade ax that had vanished into his sleeve. Borrowing Pei Qian’s catchphrase, he felt a “brain ache.”

Wei Bo turned toward the cultivator in green robes. Unable to discern his level of cultivation, he at least was beginning at the Immortal Realm. “This Daoist friend?” he inquired.

Chen Ping’an did not bother with telepathic communication. “His Daoist name is Qingtong. He is the master of the Demon-Suppressing Tower on Tung Leaf Continent, and he resides next to the Guandao Temple in the East Sea. He was of great help on this journey through the three continents in dreams. We started as adversaries.”

Qingtong sighed inwardly. The Hidden Official had revealed his entire background, showing no regard for etiquette or discretion.

Though possessing a refined charm, Qingtong felt he was still inferior to the young master of Lotus Root Paradise, Zhu Lian.

Wei Bo bowed low, offering a respectful greeting. “Wei Bo of Cloud-Draped Peak is honored to meet Senior Qingtong.” His voice, warm and melodious, seemed to vibrate through the air.

Qingtong removed his veiled hat and returned the courtesy. “Qingtong greets Mountain Lord Wei.”

Wei Bo chuckled. “Senior Qingtong, it is easy to board a pirate ship, but hard to leave. We are now brothers in arms.”

Qingtong forced a smile.

Someone, with hands clasped behind his back, gazed into the distance, admiring the scenery. Hearing the exchange, he chuckled. “Familiarity breeds contempt; Mountain Lord Wei, tread carefully.”

Qingtong felt a pang of envy for their friendship, one divine and the other immortal, each complementing the other. No wonder Cloud-Draped Peak had flourished in recent years, becoming the leader of the Five Peaks.

Chen Ping’an then spoke of the promotion of Xiao Luan’s position as the White Egret River God and Gao Niang’s relocation of his temple from the Iron Certificate River to Yunzhou. The only challenge lay in the unusual nature of the Wuxi River, located in Yunzhou, which contained the remains of a dragon palace. This abundance of mountain and water energies was rare in the bureaucracy. Furthermore, the Delicate Eyebrow River, one of the Wuxi River’s tributaries, had never had a properly recognized water god. In simple terms, once the dragon palace ruins were opened, water energies would naturally flow out, and a transfer to the Delicate Eyebrow River, to serve as its first river god, would be considered a promotion. With proper management, the river god could easily receive favorable evaluations from the Dali Ministry of Rites and the Mountain Lord’s residence.

Wei Bo considered the matter for a moment, then said, “I will take care of it. Let Xiao Luan and Gao Niang await the news. You can be candid in your letters; they can begin preparing for the elevation and gilding of their ancestral temple, the Golden Body Statue.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Do you truly not require me to inform the Dali court?”

The position of Water God of the Delicate Eyebrow River undoubtedly had several candidates within the Dali court.

The Dali nobility had fought fiercely over a mere Water God position in the Iron Certificate River, no less.

Wei Bo shook his head. “The Delicate Eyebrow River is not of high rank and is located deep within Beiyue territory, only a short distance from Cloud-Draped Peak. I can decide it without question.”

Chen Ping’an said, “Remember to chide Gao Niang, lest he become too arrogant and bring the customs of Ziyang Prefecture to Yunzhou.”

Chen Ping’an had no concerns about Gao Niang’s ability to attract incense and gather water energies after his transfer from the Temple of Accumulated Goodness, nor his ability to get along with the local City Gods and Confucian temples.

The old river god was well versed in how to “behave,” but such social acumen was not enough for a local water god.

Wei Bo chuckled. “My Mountain Lord Residence’s examination department does not tolerate complacency.”

After a few more words of idle chatter, Wei Bo saw that Chen Ping’an was about to take his leave. Was he truly planning to leave after having his needs met?

Qingtong felt a mix of emotions. After this journey, he felt increasingly envious of Mountain Lord Wei Bo and the dukes of the great rivers, such as Yang Hua and Cao Yong. Not only did they manage vast territories, but their lives were also vibrant. With a few capable assistants and a group of scribes skilled in administrative matters, could he not also enjoy the leisurely existence he had witnessed upon first meeting Wei Bo?

Wei Bo stopped Chen Ping’an, smiling as he related a curious incident. “Your Ruopo Mountain’s second gatekeeper, the Immortal Wei Daochang, has not been idle. He has secretly accepted an unnamed disciple, a young wandering cultivator. This person admires the Hidden Official so much that, despite knowing you will not accept any disciples for thirty years, he has rented a house in the small town and plans to stay for a long time. He often wanders near the mountain gate. Immortal Wei, seeing his eagerness to learn, felt a surge of empathy and began to engage him in discussions of the Dao, though the two often fail to understand each other. And Wei Daochang is often critical about his disciple’s dull abilities.”

Cao Qinglang, Yuan Lai, and Xiaomili had all served as gatekeepers in their own time, though all of them considered it some sort of side-hustle.

Chen Ping’an groaned inwardly.

The matter of Ruopo Mountain’s public declaration of its closure to outsiders and its refusal to accept disciples within thirty years, which had been made through the Cloud-Draped Peak gazette, had been intended to be a small loophole, allowing members of the Jise Peak to secretly accept direct disciples at their discretion. He had never expected Immortal Wei to exploit it.

Chen Ping’an asked helplessly, “What is the character of this wandering cultivator?”

Wei Bo said, “He is steadfast in spirit, but his talents are only average. After sixty years, he is still in the Cave Realm, and he is not a sword cultivator. I have investigated his background, and it is clean. He hails from the former Qianzhou of the White Frost Dynasty, born into a scholarly family. He has no interest in imperial examinations but is devoted to the Dao. He was once the head lecturer of a small Taoist temple in Qianzhou, which was destroyed in war. He rebuilt it himself and began wandering north. After seeing the gazette, he became determined to settle down near Ruopo Mountain, not to use Ruopo Mountain as a shortcut to fame, but simply because he believes our young Hidden Official is a peerless hero and wishes to seek guidance in Daoist arts from Mountain Master Chen, who is proficient in swordsmanship, boxing, scholarship, and talismans.”

Chen Ping’an recalled his first meeting with Immortal Wei in the Dali capital. Even dismissing Immortal Wei’s other identity, even an experienced individual like himself had almost been overwhelmed by the other’s nonsense. With a twinge of sympathy, he nodded. “Immortal Wei would not be able to swindle someone who was not from a good family.”

Chen Ping’an asked with a smile, “Does this mean you wish me to tacitly approve of this matter?”

Wei Bo answered, “This Daoist seems to possess past-life wisdom. His name is Lin Feijing.”

The reason Chen Ping’an had passed his home without entering, claiming homesickness as a mere excuse, was that he did not want Qingtong to meet the new gatekeeper, Daoist Immortal Wei, too soon.

However, after arriving at Cloud-Draped Peak, Chen Ping’an had changed his mind, allowing Qingtong to observe Ruopo Mountain from afar. What awaited Qingtong when he saw Daoist Immortal Wei at the mountain gate?

Qingtong was even more shocked than when he saw the old scholar who imitated White Jade Capital.

At the foot of Ruopo Mountain, a figure had a Daoist hairpin in his hair.

Qingtong turned pale and silently raised his hand, readjusting his veiled hat to conceal his face.

Was this the true foundation of Ruopo Mountain?

The first Daoist in the world?

One of the Ten Heroes of the Ancient World!

At the Zhongyue mountain gate, the green color of the mountains spilled from top to bottom like flowing water, cascading all the way to the foot of the mountain.

Qingtong’s restless heart had gradually returned to peace. He telepathically joked, “No wonder this Mountain Lord’s name contains the character ‘Qing’ (green).”

Chen Ping’an reminded him, “Mountain Lord Jin is not fond of jokes. Listen more and speak less later.”

In a secluded Daoist site near the mountain peak temple, they met Jin Qing, the Mountain Lord of Zhongyue, who was ready to greet them. Chen Ping’an cut straight to the point. “At my lower sect of Xiandu Mountain, the two unnamed attendants, Shao Po Xian and the maid Meng Long, will soon establish a kingdom in the Lin River region of Tung Leaf Continent. Their kingdom will be called Duguhou, a kingdom ruled by a woman. Shao Po Xian, the prince of the fallen kingdom, will not use his true name but will serve as the kingdom’s teacher. Cheng Shanchang’s eldest daughter, Wu Yi, the founder of Ziyang Prefecture, will have a title similar to that of a protector of the kingdom. Since I am the one facilitating this, I will not simply wash my hands of the matter.”

Unsurprisingly, the Mountain Lord once again faced south and bowed.

Jin Qing smiled faintly. “I know nothing of this.”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “I have said nothing either.”

Originally, this issue was a deadlock between the Dali Song family and Jin Qing of Zhongyue.

As the Mountain Lord of Zhongyue, Jin Qing could be considered the greatest vestige of the former Zhu Ying Dynasty.

Therefore, this stick of incense would be offered with utmost sincerity, fulfilling both a wish and a destiny.

Should the Dali emperor investigate the matter, Jin Qing would not care, since this did not constitute an overstep of his authority, given that he had never contacted the “Shao Po Xian.” Furthermore, Jin Qing was not overly concerned about the aftermath, as he had made the deal with Chen Ping’an. Would the Dali court dare to trouble the Hidden Official?

However, he believed that the current emperor possessed the mind and magnanimity not to be so petty.

After this, Jin Qing could devote himself to his role as the Mountain Lord of Zhongyue under the Dali Dynasty.

This was a task that only a national strategist could accomplish.

Jin Qing touched his sleeve, smiling. “Mountain Master Chen will soon found his lower sect. Unfortunately, due to my position, I am unable to attend and offer congratulations. The gift will have to be delayed for a few days.”

Jin Qing only remembered that this was a dream.

Unexpectedly, Chen Ping’an smiled. “Mountain Lord Jin need only focus his mind, and the gift he has prepared will materialize from the void.”

After considering for a moment, Jin Qing indeed retrieved a rubbing collection from his sleeve, containing more than two thousand cliff carvings and inscriptions from Zhongyue, many of which were rare copies of lost originals.

Jin Qing said telepathically, “This is the only copy. Treasure it.”

Rubbings were typically exchanged between scholars, seen by cultivators as gifts of little material value, but full of heartfelt intention.

Chen Ping’an carefully accepted the heavy rubbing collection.

For Chen Ping’an, this was a truly timely gift.

This gift was essential to his goal of creating characters.

The four plaques in his hometown, commonly known as “Crab Alley,” had gradually lost their essence after being copied several times by officials of the Ministry of Rites, because the pure Dao energy contained within the characters had transferred to the copies. The characters on the Crab Alley plaques might have appeared the same, but to enlightened individuals, they were “pale and powerless.”

Extracting characters from books published in commercial bookstores for refinement was the least effective method, resulting in characters of low quality. The best method was to take characters from the “law that is not lightly transmitted,” Daoist golden rules, Qingzhang precious edicts, the calligraphy of Confucian sages, and the scriptures transcribed by Buddhist dragons and enlightened monks. But such characters were rare, and their refinement resulted in a loss of the Dao that could not be replenished. For example, the Rain-Requesting Incantation of Mahe, being the true relic, was like a source of water. Once Chen Ping’an refined it, it would become a remnant, leading to unforeseen shifts and dispersions of fortune. It could even cause practitioners of the incantation to stumble, their understanding becoming blurred, preventing them from truly attaining enlightenment, like a mortal scholar who would find himself unable to recognize certain characters in a book.

The characters in the rubbing collection fell between these two extremes.

Previously, when Chen Ping’an had “borrowed three hundred thousand characters” from the new and old books along the Seven Li Rapids, he had only focused on quantity.

Poetic characters were often repeated, and such duplicates could be refined into a single character. Just like blacksmithing, they became more resilient as the density increased. Therefore, the more a character was repeated, the greater its weight and the Dao rhyme contained within it.

As for the sword box that Wu Yi had gifted, secretly containing more than sixty precious talisman scriptures, it belonged to the first category of “rare and unattainable” items.

Chen Ping’an said, “This will inevitably deplete Zhongyue’s Dao energy.”

Jin Qing scoffed, “Then return it to me?”

This Mountain Lord was practically saying, “Stop being hypocritical after taking advantage.”

Chen Ping’an promised, “Beyond this transaction, I will repay Zhongyue when I am able.”

Jin Qing said, half in jest, “Later? Why wait? Hidden Official, you can become an honorary guest of Zhongyue today. Just nod, and I will have the Department of Rites issue a mountain and water gazette with flattering words.”

Chen Ping’an shook his head, declining the offer. If he agreed to become a guest of Zhongyue, Mountain Lord Wei would be furious.

Throughout the meeting, Jin Qing had not inquired as to the identity of the cultivator accompanying Chen Ping’an.

Chen Ping’an asked with a smile, “Has the Huangshan Sword Sect held its founding ceremony yet?”

Jin Qing said, “Zhengyang Mountain has been thoroughly intimidated. It no longer dares to mention a ‘lower sect’ and has taken a step back by changing the character for ‘sect’ (宗) to ‘school’ (派), renaming itself the Huangshan Sword School. It seems to have given up completely, no longer believing it has any chance of founding a lower sect. As for the date of the celebration, it was originally set for next spring, choosing an auspicious day. However, given the current situation, it will likely be postponed until the end of next year at the earliest.”

Leaving aside Chen Ping’an and Liu Xianyang, who had challenged them with swords, the Sword Immortal Mi Yu and the Female Grandmaster Pei Qian, whose identities had been revealed, were mountains that the Zhengyang Mountain cultivators could not surmount.

Yuan Bai, one of the “Twin Jewels” of the former Zhu Ying Dynasty, had not left the rolls of Zhengyang Mountain. Instead of becoming a guest of Zhongyue, he returned to his homeland to serve as the first sect leader of the Huangzhu Sword School. Ni Yuerong, a female cultivator from Qingwu Peak, skipped several levels, directly ascending from the manager of the Guoyun Tower to the god of wealth of the “downhill” Zhengyang Mountain.

Chen Ping’an said, “Still self-righteous. Very well. When good fortune arrives, their joy will be all the greater.”

At first, Zhengyang Mountain believed the lower sect to be within its grasp, confident that it would be the first sect in the history of Bao Ping Continent to have a lower sect.

Now, they believed the lower sect to be nothing more than a mirage, unaware that the Dali court had made arrangements for the Huangshan Sword School to be promoted to the rank of sect, even if Zhengyang Mountain and Mountain Master Zhu Huang did nothing.

Jin Qing smiled. “Could this be a case of Heaven never abandoning anyone?”

Currently, the entire Bao Ping Continent’s cultivation world and water bureaucracy enjoyed the spectacle of Zhengyang Mountain’s misfortune.

Jin Qing’s casual remark was full of flavor for Qingtong.

Chen Ping’an smiled, remaining noncommittal, but asked, “After becoming the Huangshan Sword Sect, following the precedent of the Confucian Temple, an upper-fifth realm cultivator must serve as sect leader. Yuan Bai will be unable to hold the position. What will he do then? Return to Zhengyang Mountain, or come here to Mountain Lord Jin’s as a guest?”

Jin Qing said, “It depends on Yuan Bai’s own desires. Returning to Zhengyang Mountain is like retirement. He will occasionally be dragged into discussions in the ancestral hall. Given Yuan Bai’s temperament, he has already reneged once and is unlikely to cultivate in my Mountain Lord Residence. He will probably choose to remain in the lower sect, free from official duties.”

Chen Ping’an said sincerely, “Then I trouble Mountain Lord Jin to greet Yuan Bai. The first sword Dao sect of Tung Leaf Continent, the Qingping Sword Sect of Xiandu Mountain, eagerly awaits his arrival.”

Jin Qing laughed loudly. “Is Hidden Official poaching talent?”

Chen Ping’an said solemnly, “I implore Mountain Lord to convey this message to Yuan Bai, preferably persuading him to join us.”

Jin Qing was surprised. “Do you value Yuan Bai so highly?”

Yuan Bai had reached the end of a dead end, with no hope of reaching the upper-fifth realm, forever separated from the title of Sword Immortal.

Most sects, even in the talent-rich Central Earth Continent, would still respect a nascent soul realm sword cultivator.

However, what sword cultivator had Chen Ping’an, with the title of Hidden Official, not seen back at the Sword Qi Great Wall?

Chen Ping’an said in a low voice, “Sword cultivators may have different realms, but purity is equal.”

Jin Qing said, “When the matter is truly settled, I can pass on your message, and Yuan Bai can decide where to cultivate.”

Before Chen Ping’an left Jin Qing’s Daoist site, he presented a folding fan made of green bamboo. “A token of my appreciation.”

Jin Qing accepted the fan, knowing immediately that it was indeed a “token of appreciation,” smiling as he said, “I apologize for the inadequate hospitality.”

After Chen Ping’an and his follower left Beiyue, Jin Qing opened the fan. On its surface was an inscription:

*Thousands of mountains embrace the peak, hundreds of waters converge in the courtyard, the nation’s gate is vast and green, and giants guard the mountain. The sword rests in the frost and fights, brewing for ten thousand years in this heroic land.*

*Learn from the grandmaster, the people’s spirit, the spirit of the nation, chivalrous and righteous. Use or abandon depending on the times, the sun and moon are clear, a loyal minister’s heart.*

Jin Qing’s face showed a hint of a smile. He closed the fan, clasping it tightly in his hand, looking out at the mountains and rivers, and said softly, “The virtuous are assisted by many.”

Afterward, Chen Ping’an took Qingtong to Dongyue and Xiyue.

Both Mountain Lords were polite, greeting them and even proposing to host a banquet for Chen Ping’an.

However, upon hearing the young Hidden Official’s intention, the final result was the same, expressed in two different ways, but with the same meaning.

The Mountain Lord of Dongyue, more tactful, smiled and said that the matter was against his principles and that Chen Hidden Official had made the trip in vain.

The Mountain Lord of Xiyue said that the Tung Leaf Continent, full of broken people, was simply a pile of mud that could not be supported. Who would plant incense in mud?

Qingtong muttered, “Even the Mountain Lords of Bao Ping Continent are like this. At best, they did not turn you away, allowing you to enter the mountain gate and offering you a cup of tea. What about the Five Peaks of the Central Earth? Their Mountain Lords will only be more arrogant. What will you do?”

Unlike the previous time when Qingtong had been led by the nose, this time Chen Ping’an had told Qingtong clearly where they were going and who they were seeing.

Clad in a green robe, Chen Ping’an seemed to be walking through nothingness, surrounded by a dreamlike, translucent light, a magical sight unique to those wading through the river of time.

Chen Ping’an’s face was calm. “When the boat reaches the bridgehead, we will find a way. We can only take things one step at a time.”

Qingtong asked, “Do you not feel any frustration?”

Chen Ping’an was amused by the question, gently rubbing his face. “Qingtong, you have stayed on the mountain peak for too long. Except for sword cultivators, what makes you feel so wretched? If you wish, I can help you speak to the Confucian Temple, allowing you to travel freely across continents. I may not have that ability, but I am confident that I can allow you to leave the Demon-Suppressing Tower and travel anywhere within a continent.”

“If I had that thought, would I not have told the Confucian Temple myself?”

“A friend of mine once said, ‘Do not be led by your pride.'”

“Moreover, do not think that just because the Most Sage Teacher once visited the Demon-Suppressing Tower, you can truly do whatever you want. The water bureaucracy is also a form of cultivation, with many rules and paths. The county magistrate is inferior to the current official in charge. This applies as well. You cannot simply forge an imperial edict and tell the Confucian Temple that the Most Sage Teacher agreed to this. Then tell me, not to mention the three heads of the Central Earth Confucian Temple, you likely have no idea of the identity of the Academic Sacrificial Wine, you have never even met them, and you will have no chance to tell them of this situation. Even if it were a two-way thing, the result will come back as a no.”

“I offered to speak on your behalf, and it was a small matter for you to simply nod. But if you bypass me and are rejected by the Confucian Temple, would you not lose face?”

“People, whether they cultivate on the mountain or make a living below, seek to have face everywhere they go. But you cannot live for face alone, not to manage the firewood, rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, and tea at hand. It is difficult to achieve the ethereal through the practical, but easy to descend the mountain after being practical, is that not the truth?”

Qingtong was speechless.

Chen Ping’an smiled. “To avoid an awkward silence, you can follow with ‘That makes sense.'”

Qingtong said, “Do you enjoy lecturing so much?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “You have not met one of my friends. Speaking of which, he will be attending the ceremony for our lower sect. He should already be at Xiandu Mountain. I will have him visit your residence. Would you give me some face?”

Qingtong asked, “Who?”

Heaven knows whom you will send to visit.

Chen Ping’an said, “It is Liu Jinglong, the sect leader of the Taihui Sword Sect, a man who is good at reasoning and enjoys drinking. I am sure he will be by to enjoy any of the good stuff you store in the Demon-Suppressing Tower.”

Few sword cultivators do not drink. Qingtong said, “I have heard of him. However, is his realm not high? Is he still only a Jade Purity realm sword cultivator?”

Chen Ping’an clicked his tongue. “His realm is not high?”

If Liu Jinglong were a native sword cultivator of the Sword Qi Great Wall, the great sword immortal would personally instruct him in swordsmanship.

Liu Jinglong’s natal flying sword would surely be rated “A-grade” in the Summer Palace, and that only if the highest rank was just “A” and nothing higher.

He had to admit that it was quite relaxing to be around Qingtong, this great cultivator from the mountain peak.

Take the Guandao Temple’s old temple master, the White Emperor City’s Zheng Juzhong, and the Sui Chu Palace’s Wu Shuangjiang for instance. If they were cultivators in the fourteenth realm, even the flying ascension realm swordsman Pei Min’s sudden sword trial in the rain would put more pressure on Chen Ping’an than Qingtong could.

Regarding Liu Jinglong’s visit, Qingtong neither refused nor agreed. Instead, unable to stop himself from thinking of the gatekeeper with the Daoist hairpin at the foot of Ruopo Mountain, he asked a strange question in a trembling voice, “Is he really him?”

Chen Ping’an smiled faintly. “Guess.”

Qingtong gritted his teeth, scoffed, and dared not delve further.

Sword cultivators, whether speaking or acting, were all cheap.

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “Are you scolding people?”

Qingtong’s face was gloomy. “Are you able to hear my thoughts?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Guess again.”

Qingtong said angrily, “Enough!”

Chen Ping’an smiled and remained silent for a moment, then asked without reason, “Where do you think our words go after we say them?”

Probably not expecting any answer from Qingtong, Chen Ping’an answered himself. “Could it be like two mirrors facing each other?”

Nanyue.

It was drizzling, the mountain roads were muddy and difficult, worrying those who looked at the mountains from afar.

The female Mountain Lord Fan Junmao looked around and found herself in the pavilion where she had entertained guests. “They say that you dream of what you think about during the day. How did this happen?”

Fan Junmao clasped her hands behind her back, circling the figure in green robes, clicking her tongue in wonder. “They say that one only dreams of what one thinks about during the day. What is this about?” She looked back to Chen Ping’an “Only mountain and water spirits can impart dreams to others, but you’re quite the exception. Well, what brings you here? Are you planning some furtive, romantic tryst?”

Fan Junmao glanced sideways at Qingtong. “Is her presence here unnecessary?”

Fan Junmao pretended to realize something. “I understand. It seems the Hidden Official has rather specific tastes.”

Chen Ping’an’s face was expressionless. “Are you finished?”

Fan Junmao composed herself, stopped walking, sat on a long chair, crossing her legs and resting her hands on the railing. Originally, she seemed languid, but upon hearing Chen Ping’an’s business proposition, she suddenly perked up. Fair trade, a small profit!

“Well, who would have thought that on this New Year’s Eve, I could still have a good one?”

As for the green-robed, veiled cultivator who dared not show her face, Fan Junmao did not bother to give her a second glance, immediately seeing through her base and humble origins.

After all, Fan Junmao had another, more hidden identity besides her status as a mountain lord.

Being a cultivator in the Ascension Realm was like being a slightly larger ant.

Like Zhigui, what if he was a true dragon? In the ancient years of ten thousand years ago, he was nothing more than a longer reptile.

When that supreme being had found Fan Junmao, who had already awakened and recalled her past identity, and Fan Junmao had made the mistake of speaking out of turn, the former nearly struck her down with a sword, yet Fan Junmao was still content.

Fan Junmao had once had a divine rank in the ancient Heavenly Court that was not low, ranking only below the twelve high positions.

Qingtong secretly swallowed, vaguely recognizing her origins. Not because Qingtong had unique insight, but because Fan Junmao had intentionally restored some of her former appearance after becoming a female mountain lord, and Qingtong had seen her once from afar, leaving a deep impression.

Perhaps, other human cultivators in the Ascension Realm who were younger and weaker would have a completely different view of these remnants of the divine path, such as “Fan Junmao.”

Chen Ping’an looked at Fan Junmao and smiled. “That look has not changed after ten thousand years. What are you trying to get out of refining your divine body in this life?”

Having grown accustomed to riddles and insults from Chen Ping’an, Qingtong was a little moved and unaccustomed.

Fan Junmao stared intently at this presumptuous young sword cultivator, her eyes cold and her face clouded. After a moment, she smiled suddenly, nodding repeatedly. “The Hidden Official is powerful. Whoever is more powerful has the final say.”

Fan Junmao seemed to sever all ties with her previous self, smiling and asking, “Do you want me to call Fan Er over?”

Chen Ping’an seemed to be in a similar situation, shaking his head and smiling. “No need. I will definitely find him for a drink on my way back home from Tung Leaf Continent.”

Fan Junmao’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Drinking with the company of beautiful women?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “Two men having a drink, what could be wrong with that?”

What would be more compelling than for a man to remain straight-