Before accepting that punch, an ancient suit of armor materialized around Qing Tong’s Yang God avatar.

This fist was too bizarre to confront head-on, and evasion was impossible. Qing Tong had no choice but to weather the blow, adding a layer of protection for his physical body atop his snow-white Daoist robe.

Clearly, Qing Tong didn’t believe that his quasi-Martial Saint physique, without external aid, could truly withstand the full force of this strike.

The punch landed, and the white-haired elder’s treasured armor shattered like a mirror, fragments scattering like shooting stars.

The old martial artist’s towering form began to plummet, but not in a straight line. The very fabric of this world was like a crumpled piece of paper, held haphazardly by a child. Here, the flow of time was beyond mortal comprehension. Direction itself was an illusion; east, west, north, south, up, and down were all twisted and folded. Seemingly adjacent locations might be separated by vast distances, while places that appeared hundreds of miles apart were actually mere inches or a single step away.

This caused the white-haired elder to tumble and careen wildly, like a glass bead trapped inside a rattling bamboo tube.

Normally, a pure martial artist of his caliber, seated in such a realm, would be a nightmare for any Qi cultivator daring to oppose him.

Finally, the towering elder managed to halt his descent and stabilize the chaotic energies roiling within him. He glanced down at his shattered armor, spitting out a mouthful of blood. He discarded the tattered remains and, with a wave of his hand, gathered the scattered fragments, ultimately reforming them, alongside the surrounding debris, into a single, dull, martial talisman.

Qing Tong felt a pang of heartache. He had painstakingly repaired this ancient divine armor to the point where it could be worn again. Now, restoring it to its original state would take an eternity.

He had to admit, however, that Chen Ping An’s punch had packed quite a punch.

Qing Tong raised a hand, wiping the blood from his face and flicking his wrist, splattering the blood onto the ground, where it seeped into the earth. He asked, curious, “Where did that punch originate?”

He refused to believe it was a technique that Chen Ping An had created himself.

Chen Ping An opened his hands. In the distance, the two long sabers he had previously retrieved, as if receiving a divine decree, followed the exact path of Qing Tong’s earlier retreat, mimicking its erratic, winding course. They disregarded the realm’s restrictions and returned directly to Chen Ping An’s grasp in a single, straight line.

Clad in a vibrant red robe, with a saber in each hand, the blades shimmered, each emitting light that traced a different path.

The white-haired elder saw the flicker of a smirk on the younger man’s face – a clear sign of mockery.

A Martial Saint he may be, but a *pure* martial artist he was not.

He was simply a Martial Saint whose strength stemmed from the slow and arduous accumulation of power over countless years, relying on the ceaseless forging of his physique.

Chen Ping An’s punch had landed just as the two quarters of an hour ended, the incense stick had been reduced to ash.

In the distance, Xiao Mo turned to Qing Tong’s Yin God form, a playful smile gracing his lips. “Daoist Qing Tong, it seems you have quite a bit of treasure hidden away.”

Living for eons had its advantages, foremost of which was vast knowledge. As an ancient Daoist from the very first pages of history, he didn’t need to sift through dusty, millennia-old archives to know the truth. He recognized the armor worn by the towering elder at a glance, understood its profound origins. Its quality was comparable to that of the Executioner Blades, tools from the ancient Dragon-Slaying Platform.

The youthful Qing Tong Yin God wore a wry smile.

That armor was one of his most prized possessions. The Central Earth Confucian Temple had lent it to the Demon Suppression Tower, and Qing Tong had finally earned the right to claim it as his own.

Unfortunately, despite years of meticulous repair, his lack of crafting skills had resulted in slow progress. Now, this ridiculous fistfight had reduced it to its original, damaged state.

The Armor-Clad One, one of the Five Supreme beings of the ancient Celestial Court, served as the model for the divine armor. Three lesser but still magnificent versions of that armor were created by one of the Twelve High-Ranking Deities, a master craftsman. With the permission of the Fire God and the Water God, he harvested the essence of the sun, used Mars, one of the Fire God’s palaces, as a forge, and the River of Time as quenching water. The painstaking process took a considerable amount of time.

The Deputy Manager of the Flying Ascent City tavern, Zheng Dafeng, formerly wore one of these three divine armors, the silver “Great Frost.”

Alas, during the Ascension War, where countless Daoists and deities fell, the gatekeeping General Zheng Dafeng, unwilling to yield the path, was impaled on the gate by a sword wielded by an unknown figure as the tides turned. The Great Frost armor shattered and was scattered across the mortal realm.

It suffered the same fate as the hairpin of the first Daoist in the world.

Later, the founder of the Military School imitated those three armors, generating three “imitations” that were lesser but still powerful. These were the prototypes for the later Meridian Armor, Golden Crow Armor, and Divine Dew Armor. The “ancestor” Meridian Armor had two variants, woven from meridian lines and latitude lines respectively. When worn by a Qi cultivator, the former granted a protection similar to the limitless worlds of a Buddhist, rendering the wearer effectively untouchable, even when standing directly beside an opponent. Swords and spells would fly around uselessly, searching for an enemy that was “close yet infinitely far away.”

The latter was slightly inferior but still incredibly profound. A Qi cultivator could accumulate their Daoist power, drop by drop, and pour it into the armor. Even if those drops were as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, they still couldn’t fill that bottomless pit, resulting in a degree of resilience that defied imagination.

Qi cultivators, with their internal world of cultivation, faced bottlenecks in their spiritual energy accumulation at different levels. A blessed land, once reaching the upper echelons, would inevitably overflow with spiritual energy.

One could imagine that if a cultivator were fortunate enough to acquire this armor for a thousand, or even ten thousand years, even if they were not a Fourteenth Realm Grand cultivator, but merely a Flying Ascent Realm cultivator, they could simply stand still while wearing the armor and allow a Flying Ascent Realm sword cultivator to hack away for half a day without effect.

Xiao Mo happened to know the whereabouts of the “Latitude Armor.” Like himself, the armor’s owner had slumbered in a hidden location within the Wildlands for millennia.
The problem lies with this old geezer, a female cultivator, and also a sword cultivator. Moreover, ten thousand years ago, she was known throughout the world for her immense killing power.

Xiao Mo smiled slightly, “Qing Tong, I am curious, who gave you the confidence and audacity to be so arrogant?”

Logically speaking, Qing Tong has cultivated in the vast world of Haoran for ten thousand years. She doesn’t need to be as careful as I am, conforming to local customs and understanding etiquette, as well as the rules and taboos of the mountains.

Xiao Mo, without any expression, slowly said: “My young master, as the last owner of the Sword Qi Great Wall’s Summer Palace and the last Hidden Official appointed by Chen Qingdu, the magnitude of his achievements is clear to all of you cultivators atop Haoran. Even if we only speak of hard work, he managed to single-handedly guard half of the city wall. Furthermore, my young master was the leader of the Battle of Tuoyue Mountain. Speaking of the accompanying sword cultivators, whether it’s Qi Tingji, the executioner Hao Su, Lu Zhi, or the Third Master of Bai Yujing, Lu Chen, if they were to travel here, would you dare refuse to meet them? Could you refuse to meet them?”

“Even setting aside the identity of Hidden Official, my young master is also the closed-door disciple of the Literary Saint, a student of the old Literary Saint, the junior brother of Cui Chan, Zuo You, Liu Shiliu, and Qi Jingchun.”

“My young master is also the Lord of Mount Luopo, the master of a sect in Haoran. Now, he is about to establish a lower sect. After the Spring Equinox celebration, he will become a patriarch of an upper sect in the eyes of the future Xiandu Mountain cultivators. Others may not know the inside story, but with your Qing Tong’s perception, you must know that it will be a veritable sword dao sect, the first sword dao sect in Tongye Continent in thousands of years since the destruction of the Bǐtóng Sword Sect in the central part of the continent. Therefore, this move will create a new landscape for Tongye Continent, adding extra vitality to the stagnant rivers and mountains. My young master and his student, Cui Dongshan, are the ones excavating the canal for this source of living water.”

Moreover, the young master is the guide for a certain Daoist’s cultivation in this lifetime. They will be fellow travelers climbing the same mountain.

This person is now named Nian Jing, courtesy name Xianwei.

The young master is also the Daoist companion of Ning Yao, the number one person in the Five Colored World.

However, Xiao Mo didn’t mention these two relatively minor private matters.

If you, Qing Tong, are an ignorant simpleton, not caring about any of the young master’s identities, then the Literary Saint sacrificed his own Great Dao to protect the mountains and rivers of the three continents from complete collapse, and Tongye Continent was one of them.

Besides, if it weren’t for Cui Chan from Treasure Bottle Continent and his junior brother Qi Jingchun, along with Liu Shiliu, who returned to Haoran, the three direct disciples of the Literary Saint, secretly battling Wen Hai Zhou Mi in this Tongye Continent,

Then the survival of this Demon Suppressing Tower would be questionable.

Since Qing Tong’s Great Dao is closely related to it, even if she betrayed the Confucian Temple and allied with Wen Hai Zhou Mi, she would at least need to sever the close connection between Qing Tong and the grand Demon Suppressing Tower. Even if Zhou Mi really had the means to help you sever this connection, you, Qing Tong, would probably fall one or two realms and barely survive. Then, when the situation in the two worlds reverses, and old kings like Yuan Shou and Fei Fei escape back to the Barbaric World, Qing Tong, who has a Great Dao connection with Tongye Continent, unless Zhou Mi takes her to ascend to the heavens together, will end up like the demon Yang Zhi, who is imprisoned in the Old Lord’s furnace territory, becoming a prisoner of the Confucian Temple. Moreover, with the temper of the Supreme Sage Master, if Qing Tong dared to do so, even if Zhou Mi was willing to protect her and ascend to the heavens together, she would probably be knocked back to the mortal realm halfway.

Furthermore, Chen Pingan’s senior brother, Zuo You, once personally protected a gateway to a new world as a sword cultivator of the Sword Qi Great Wall, helping Tongye Continent preserve a bit of its vitality. When the gate opens next time, those countless refugees who fled to the Five Colored World, whether they are willing to return home or not, can, to some extent, nourish the fortune of Tongye Continent.

Therefore, the Literary Saint’s lineage, whether it’s the old scholar who was the teacher, the four senior brothers of Chen Pingan, or Chen Pingan himself, is an benefactor to Tongye Continent, to this Demon Suppressing Tower, and to a wutong tree.

For Chen Pingan and Xiandu Mountain to mend the earth’s deficiencies in Tongye Continent is a great boon, a free ride for Qing Tong.

This Great Dao benefit is destined to be a continuous income, more relaxed and comfortable than a landlord.

Chen Pingan’s choice to locate the lower sect in Tongye Continent, especially since the Qingping Sword Sect is a sword dao sect, means that some of the sword dao fortune connected to the Hidden Official of the Sword Qi Great Wall will be brought to Tongye Continent by Chen Pingan, rather than being gifted to his hometown of Treasure Bottle Continent. Those sword dao fortunes will take root here, gathering on one mountain through Xiandu Mountain and the Qingping Sword Sect, as well as the sword cultivators who will become Xiandu Mountain’s registered disciples in the future, like duckweed gathering on one mountain, and then scattering like dandelions, gradually blooming and bearing fruit everywhere over time.

Xiao Mo stopped speaking and simply shook his head.

Her old friend, the Cave Master of Bixiao, has already left Tongye Continent. The East Sea View Daoist temple, which served as her Daoist site, has also been relocated, going to the Azure Nether World. This means that the old master is unlikely to return to her old home in the short term. The Confucian Temple also seems to have lifted the restrictions on the Demon Suppressing Tower, which is equivalent to restoring Qing Tong’s freedom.

To take a step back, even if the young master brought me here this time, even if the two parties met, and the price wasn’t right, the business could fall through, but at least civility would be maintained. With the young master’s consistent agreeable temper, at most, he would make a few more trips to the Demon Suppressing Tower, still following the etiquette of a junior like today.

Therefore, publicly or privately, emotionally or rationally, this Qing Tong should meet Chen Pingan, who has multiple identities, today.

In essence, to put it simply, Qing Tong is holding the principle of “I want all the benefits, don’t ask me to do anything” and chooses to refuse guests behind closed doors.

She doesn’t even want to see Chen Pingan, let alone talk.

This behavior is like True Man Fire Dragon visiting the Liu family in Aiyai Continent, arriving at the mountain gate, speaking kindly, saying he has something to discuss, and then Liu Jubao doesn’t show up.

Even if he has to open the door to welcome guests later, he still doesn’t act appropriately.

It’s like True Man Fire Dragon having to pass through layers of obstacles to see Liu Jubao in the family ancestral hall.
What was once akin to “searching for the donkey while riding it,” a series of twelve painted scrolls, twelve illusory realms, and a string of trials crafted by Qing Tong, all served to dissect Chen Ping An’s dao heart, probe the depths of human nature, excavate the roots of his inner world, and explore the hidden wonders within the mountain dojo of a cultivator.

This had already become a form of dao exchange between cultivators, a true inquiry into the Dao.

It was akin to sword cultivators exchanging blows, or pure martial artists testing each other’s mettle.

To use another analogy, it was as if Chen Qingdu had left the Great Wall of Sword Qi and was visiting the Central Earth Confucian Temple.

He would first have to pass layers of examinations on poetry and learning.

Xiao Mo turned his head and asked, “Qing Tong, I’ll ask you one last time, do you have any unspoken difficulties?”

After asking, Xiao Mo waited silently for a reply. Qing Tong hesitated several times, but ultimately remained silent.

Xiao Mo nodded to himself, “Silence means you tacitly acknowledge that you have none.”

In Xiao Mo’s eyes, this was a classic case of offering someone face, only for them to refuse it.

He had endured this for far too long.

The old coachman in the Dali capital was merely the Registrar of the Jade Pivot Court of the Ancient Thunder Department, an official of low rank and insufficient ability.

Besides, those were old grievances, matters of the distant past. Moreover, the matters themselves were not of great importance, and had long been resolved. Raking up old grudges was not Xiao Mo’s style.

As for the ghost immortal Yu Jin, who accompanied Zhong Kui, that was more like a joke, a playful jest.

Xiao Mo placed the staff of traveling through mountains into his sleeve.

Qing Tong’s Yin spirit immediately panicked, and he abandoned his silence, hastily saying, “Hold on!”

However, Xiao Mo no longer paid any attention to Qing Tong.

Furthermore, Qing Tong was unable to prevent Xiao Mo’s…sword delivery.

It was as if two small worlds, one above the other, were separated by a mirror-like surface. The boundary line where the worlds met was like a cloth covering all things, which had been pinched and lifted, and ultimately torn open.

It was like a silkworm cocoon, from which a sword cultivator emerged.

In the distance, Chen Ping An, who had keenly sensed the anomaly at the first instant, turned to look at Xiao Mo.

Their first meeting had been in the radiant moonlight, with Xiao Mo appearing as an old man, arrogant and ruthless, with fierce swordplay.

When they met again, he had the refined demeanor of a young man.

But at this moment, Xiao Mo was true to his name, truly “unfamiliar.”

His true form was hidden, and only his Dharma form was visible.

He wore a wide Dharma robe, and his face was vaguely discernible, jade-white and radiant. His entire body was crystal clear, as pure as glass, without any visible bones, meridians, or flesh.

His snow-white hair was extremely long, ethereal and indistinct, filled with immortal energy.

Holding a sword, his aura was majestic, his sword intent awe-inspiring, displaying an image of ascending to immortality with a sword.

Could this be Xiao Mo’s perfect, peak state?

He arrived in the realm above the mirror.

The true form of the phoenix tree was here.

Before Xiao Mo had even truly delivered a single strike, his sword qi already filled the heavens and the earth.

Instantly, countless sword qi “pillars” appeared in this realm, erupting with a thunderous sound, wantonly piercing through the heavens and the earth.

Alas, this realm, like a meticulously woven and patched brocade pouch, was simultaneously pierced by hundreds upon thousands of sharp, exposed ice picks.

The vast realm was sliced by tens of thousands of sword lights, becoming fragmented. The most terrifying aspect was that the number of these randomly angled sword lights was still increasing frantically, to the point that the light pillars formed by the condensed sword qi were easily shattered by the new sword lights in the blink of an eye.

The fifth-realm cultivators on Tongye Continent, according to their respective realms and the strength of their divine senses, experienced varying degrees of dao heart tremors, vaguely sensing something amiss.

The three Confucian Sages responsible for guarding the celestial canopy of Tongye Continent looked up into the distance, smiled, and saw a ball of light seemingly appear in the central sky of Tongye Continent, but for some reason it was covered with spikes, emanating a chilling sword qi.

A certain old scholar, closest to that ball of light, chuckled softly, “How did a well-established Demon Suppression Tower become a…hedgehog?”

Why interfere in personal grudges between cultivators?

Besides, I’m already giving this fellow Qing Tong plenty of face by not taking sides.

So many years after the end of the great war, because the Supreme Sage and the Sage of Rites and the Sub-Sage, for some unknown reason, haven’t said anything, this Demon Suppression Tower has remained deaf and mute, like a miser clutching his money bag, unwilling to spend even a single coin. Therefore, cleaning up the mess of Tongye Continent, with its fragmented landscapes and scattered hearts, has fallen solely on the mountain masters, gentlemen, and worthies of the three academies, running around and toiling tirelessly. Because being unable to participate in specific human affairs is an iron rule personally established by the Sage of Rites for these accompanying sages guarding the celestial canopy in their early years, the three of them can only worry and have no way to complain to that imposing Demon Suppression Tower.

Actually, they’ve been displeased for several years.

One cannot demand that others act as sages.

This old scholar, who once praised the young Hidden Official with the phrase “What a fine demeanor of a rising star,” shook his sleeves and concealed the celestial anomaly.

What? It’s my duty, who can find fault with me?

A Demon Suppression Tower, whose position was affirmed by the Confucian Temple, and the Confucian scholars of the lineage of the Literary Sage, are members of the same family squabbling behind closed doors. This is called airing one’s dirty laundry in private.

In the new battlefield within the realm, Qing Tong’s Yin spirit and the burly old man who served as his Yang spirit’s outer body disappeared together, returning to his true form.

After all, he was facing a soaring-realm sword cultivator. How could Qing Tong dare to be careless?

The true form of the phoenix tree transformed into a slender figure, with alternating light and shadow, a blurred face, wearing a hibiscus Daoist coronet, clad in a brand-new suit of armor, with a golden Dharma robe underneath, green shoes on his feet, a string of ancient jade pendants hanging from his waist, and crimson armlets encircling his arms. In short, everything that could be worn was put to use, a hodgepodge of mountain treasures, gaudy decorations…

At the same time, this soaring-realm cultivator of vast age did not sit idly by, but performed the steps of the Big Dipper, forming hand seals, and his clones bloomed like flower buds.

Over a thousand Qing Tong clones, each displaying their unique abilities, offered up different magic treasures and unleashed different attacking techniques and defensive divine powers.

How skillful not to be overwhelmed.

Speaking of the sheer number and variety of techniques, regardless of the profundity of the Dao and the height of his cultivation, Qing Tong could probably rank among the top ten in the vast world based solely on this feat today.

Among these Qing Tong clones, over a hundred were responsible for forming a temporary formation, creating a landscape array, while the greater number of talisman clones were willing to perish together in order to block the endless stream of sword lights.
The Ascended cultivator Qing Tong, who claimed to have mastered several advanced talismans, unleashed his trump cards. Each talisman resonated with one of the Five Elements, showcasing the pinnacle of his talisman-making skill.

A fire talisman was activated, summoning a thousand-zhang tall deity of the Fire Department, his body interwoven with countless flames. He rained down chaotic blows, shattering the sword lights that approached the mountain and river array.

A water talisman followed, an unbroken stream of stacked talismans like a surging river. Tens of thousands of talismans intertwined and overlapped, shimmering with light, eventually coalescing into a cyan carp a thousand miles long. Each scale on the carp, as large as a courtyard, pulsed with talismanic power.

One after another, talismans that could condense earth into mountains were hurled down. Five ancient peaks slammed into the ground, taking root and forming a triangular formation, with five more ancient peaks surrounding them. This fortified the outer mountain and river array, stabilizing its defenses.

Behind Qing Tong, a wood talisman scattered its light, which gradually coalesced into an intricate wooden puppet, a marvel of craftsmanship.

However, Xiao Mo faced these diverse and chaotic techniques with a single sword.

A dazzling sword light, like a fish flicking its tail, flew toward the array and Qing Tong’s true form.

Wherever the sword light passed, it crushed everything in its path.

Around the sword light, a passage resembling the void of the outer heavens appeared.

Even countless slanting beams of condensed sword qi were shattered and reduced to nothingness simply for being in the way.

This was the true destructive power of a peak Ascended sword cultivator.

Elsewhere in the world, more than a dozen subtle springs, like ripples in water, emerged simultaneously.

At the source of these springs, a tinkling sound echoed, like celestial music.

The great rivers of the world, no matter how mighty they appeared when flowing into the sea, often originated from just a few tiny springs.

These seemingly insignificant sources, with their minute sword qi that could be easily overlooked, represented the origin of Xiao Mo’s swordsmanship.

Where could Qing Tong hide on his own territory?

Even if he escaped the Demon Suppression Pagoda, where could he flee?

In the blink of an eye, the mountain and river array shattered with earth-shattering sounds.

Qing Tong exhausted all his advanced talismans to barely dispel the terrifying sword light that moved as if unopposed.

He had known for ten thousand years that this world-renowned sword cultivator’s skill was high, but he had never imagined it would be this high.

Wasn’t it said that his swordsmanship wasn’t known for its destructive power? Wasn’t it his impenetrable defense that made him so troublesome?

Wasn’t it said that his offensive power wasn’t even in the top five among all sword cultivators?

Suddenly, Qing Tong’s eyes widened as a face grew clearer and clearer.

The ancient demon sword cultivator’s smiling face drew closer and closer, as a sword swept horizontally toward his head.

The sword dragged a long arc across the world, aimed directly at Qing Tong’s head.

The one who now called himself Xiao Mo seemed to be saying, “Hello, Daoist Qing Tong. Goodbye, useless Ascended.”

Facing imminent death, Qing Tong, not willing to simply accept his fate, suddenly shouted, “Chen Ping An! The Sage Master has a message!”

A figure in a bright red robe emerged from the rift Xiao Mo had torn in the fabric of space. He crossed the small world like an ancient celestial ascending to the heavens, stepping on the void, slowly revealing himself.

His hands were tucked into his sleeves, two sabers were stacked at his waist, and a Night Wanderer Sword followed him in the air.

But Qing Tong instantly felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave. Xiao Mo, sword in hand, passed him in a blur. Qing Tong, still standing in place, had his head severed by the arc of sword light.

A head flew high into the air.

Perhaps Chen Ping An didn’t have time to stop Xiao Mo, or perhaps he communicated with his mind, and Xiao Mo didn’t have time to retract his sword.

Perhaps Xiao Mo heard him, but the ancient demon sword cultivator’s heart was filled with malice and he was unwilling to stop.

Or perhaps, Chen Ping An didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to.

He couldn’t be bothered.

Who knew?

The longsword formed from Xiao Mo’s sword intent dissipated on the spot. He switched his grip and scanned his surroundings, smiling slightly. After all, Qing Tong was an Ascended cultivator; it wouldn’t be so easy to kill him on the spot. He was still a long way from truly dying and having his Dao extinguished.

But even so, it was easier than when he had tried to kill Yang Zhi. Firstly, Yang Zhi’s Ascended cultivation was more advanced, and her physical body was innately resilient. Furthermore, in that ancient world, the territory was vast, and Yang Zhi’s path of cultivation was blessed by fate, carrying a portion of the Great Dao of Water. Therefore, whenever she was near water, Yang Zhi escaped quickly, her speed of retreat even faster than sword light.

Qing Tong, however, was trapped.

The head decayed visibly, like a piece of deadwood rotting, then turned to ashes and scattered across the world.

Behind Xiao Mo, where Qing Tong’s true body had stood, a suit of armor clattered to the ground with a crisp sound. The robe slumped to the ground, lying limply on top of the armor.

He had used a technique similar to the Golden Cicada Shell Shedding escape.

Like a large tree, only the branches and leaves were damaged, not the trunk.

Of course, Qing Tong’s Great Dao had suffered an unavoidable loss.

A thunderous voice echoed from all directions, “Do not take an inch when given a foot!”

This was the Demon Suppression Pagoda, one of the nine grand towers of the Great Bright World.

And Xiao Mo was a demon from the desolate world!

But Xiao Mo’s smile was radiant. In an instant, his Dharma body disappeared, as he followed a faint trail in pursuit.

A celestial Dharma body, ethereal and elusive.

A moment later, a bizarre, inky black moon appeared in the sky. Qing Tong was forced to reveal himself, having to use his ultimate life-saving technique, Moon Phase.

Xiao Mo’s Dharma body, by comparison, was like a mustard seed next to a well, but near that moon, a tiny spark of light appeared, instantly spreading into a line. Finally, the long line of sword light, like a giant dragon rising into the sky, snaked and writhed above the moon.

This was Xiao Mo’s self-created swordsmanship, Moon Eating, which he had subtly woven into the orbits of the sun and moon and swallowed one of the moons.

But compared to that ancient Daoist friend with “Latitude Armor,” whose technique of “Solar Eclipse” truly lived up to its name, Xiao Mo admitted that he was still far behind.
Back then, those great demons of the mountain peaks received the decree from Bai Ze and had no choice but to awaken from their slumber. Among them was an ancient being whose ten-thousand-year cultivation ground, or rather, place of recuperation, was within the Great Sun of the desolate lands. Therefore, this woman, also a sword cultivator, exchanged a few words with her “neighbor” in the heavens, Xiao Mo, who resided in the Bright Moon’s radiance, using a unique divine ability. The two had originally agreed on a meeting place in the human realm, and the other party had even said that she now had an alias.

Xie Gou.

Previously, when Xiao Mo mentioned their group of ancient beings to Chen Ping’an, regarding their cultivation and combat power, Xiao Mo, acting as a deathsworn, was forthright. She said that she was neither the one with the greatest killing power nor the strongest in defense. However, Xiao Mo was certain that her offense and defense were both within the top three. Because Xiao Mo had only recently begun interacting with Chen Ping’an, coupled with the temperament of a sword cultivator, she had still held back somewhat at the time, not revealing many details. For example, regarding the top three in offense and defense, excluding the fact that she occupied two places, the remaining were not four, but only three, because that “Xie Gou” was also a pinnacle powerhouse combining offense and defense.

As for the grudges and entanglements between Xiao Mo and this Daoist friend, now using the alias “Xie Gou,” there was a very long story to tell.

This was probably one of the reasons why Xiao Mo was unwilling to reveal more of the truth.

Chen Ping’an’s shoulders slumped, his figure becoming even more hunched.

It was Qing Tong who once again invoked the identity of the Master of the Demon Suppressing Tower.

A moment later, sword lights still suddenly appeared and vanished abruptly in various places.

Qing Tong finally revealed his true form for the first time, looking disheveled and covered in blood. His body was crisscrossed with wounds, no less than a dozen, exposing bare bone in a ghastly sight.

He had a youthful appearance and handsome features, androgynous and difficult to distinguish as male or female.

However, Qing Tong no longer possessed the grace and composure of a great cultivator at the mountain peak level, appearing somewhat exasperated. He stood not far from Chen Ping’an, as if only in that way could he catch his breath slightly.

Qing Tong’s choice was correct.

Xiao Mo indeed did not continue to deliver her sword. Her hand holding the sword was wrapped behind her back, indicating sincerity.

“Allowing you to rest for a moment beside my young master is enough.”

Chen Ping’an’s expression became strange for a moment after seeing Qing Tong’s appearance.

According to the secret records of the Summer Retreat Palace, ancient sayings stated that the Wu tree was male and the Tong tree female. “Wu Tong” trees grew together, aged together, and lived and died together.

And Lu Tai, who came from the Yin-Yang School of the Central Earth, was a body of Yin-Yang Fish, a being seen once in a millennium.

Back then, it was also Lu Tai who accompanied Chen Ping’an on his travels through Tongye Continent.

A Qi Refiner, yet naturally afraid of heights.

Zou Zi and the swordsman Pei Min were both Lu Tai’s mentors who imparted knowledge.

After Lu Tai parted ways with him back then, could he have also been brought here by Zou Zi?

However, Chen Ping’an did not ask Qing Tong about this matter. It was an insignificant matter. Whether it was Lu Tai or the sword cultivator Liu Cai, he believed that they would eventually reunite in the coming years, or perhaps meet someday.

Xiao Mo raised her chin towards Qing Tong, signaling that he could leave this place.

Qing Tong gritted his teeth and fled away.

When he reappeared for the second time, one of Qing Tong’s arms had already been severed by Xiao Mo, but with a mere shake of his shoulder, Qing Tong regrew an arm.

Chen Ping’an smiled and said, “Still haven’t thought of the wording? Are you very conflicted right now? You neither have the confidence to concoct a lie that can deceive me, nor the courage to falsely convey the decree of the Most Holy Teacher? But if you don’t talk nonsense, you’ll be chased and hacked by Xiao Mo. Even if you don’t die for a while, the loss of your Daoist cultivation will be a tangible loss of decades or even hundreds of years with each strike. Don’t talk about a joss stick’s time or two quarters of an hour, I’m afraid you’ll fall from your realm in just one quarter of an hour, right?”

Qing Tong raised the back of his hand and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll first risk the destruction of the Demon Suppressing Tower and then run to the accompanying sage seated in the firmament to save my life?”

Chen Ping’an reached out a hand from his sleeve and raised it high. “Go ahead.”

Qing Tong gnashed his teeth and said, “Although the Most Holy Teacher did not ask me to pass on any words to you, he ultimately came to this place. He truly bestowed a sentence upon me, hoping that I could cultivate well. If you dare to destroy a Demon Suppressing Tower and indulge a flying-ascension realm sword cultivator from the desolate lands, ruining my great Dao…”

Chen Ping’an put away his hand and nodded. “I’ll go to the Confucian Temple to confess my sins when I have time. Hmm, I can first find my teacher and then find the Sage of Rites.”

Qing Tong’s face changed uncertainly.

You, Qing Tong, like to enjoy lying down, right?

Fine.

Completely no problem.

Earlier, while Xiao Mo’s sword light was shattering the restrictions of heaven and earth, Chen Ping’an had actually used “Bird in a Cage” plus “Moon in the Well,” sending a flying sword letter to that old teacher.

He had made a gentleman’s agreement with that accompanying sage.

He requested his help to be sure to conceal it from his own teacher and send a letter to the Sage of Rites.

He begged the Sage of Rites to move half of the Sword Qi Great Wall.

As for the matter of merit conversion, it was nothing more than a clear accounting. The Sage of Rites and the Confucian Temple would follow the rules.

On the book of merit under the name of Chen Ping’an in Xi Ping’s teacher’s place, however much should be crossed out would be crossed out.

But you, Qing Tong, should forget about your fourteenth realm for the rest of your life.

It was laughable. Chen Ping’an had been thinking about how after the dispersal of the Dao by the three ancestral teachers, some fourteenth-realm great cultivators would openly start killing, or secretly plot against the pinnacle flying-ascension realm cultivators.

He never imagined that, due to a twist of fate, he would become the first roadblock to prevent others from reaching the fourteenth realm.

So, what difference would it make if you, Qing Tong, recuperated in Tongye Continent for a hundred years, or a thousand years, or ten thousand years?

But there was no need to say such a thing, now that things had come to this.

Lest it sound like he was threatening someone.

Although the cost was a bit high, the gains were equally significant.

The mountains and rivers of a continent would soon be able to stabilize its fortune.

Moreover, mending it later would be much smoother.

First, there would be harmony among the people, then there would be geographical advantage, and then there would be opportune timing.

Many things that originally needed Qing Tong’s help, he could do himself.

The only trouble was that his teacher would probably be very angry with him when he found out about this.

Never mind.

Damn it.

Sure enough, the Great Sword Immortal was right, cultivation should not always be so rigid.

Every hundred years, one should always do something that doesn’t require any reasoning at all.

Suddenly, Qing Tong’s expression was slightly surprised. Reluctantly, he opened a mountain and river restriction, as if opening a door.

Chen Ping’an was even more surprised because the flying sword that had previously left this world to deliver a message flashed past, heading straight for him. Chen Ping’an had no choice but to put the sword light into his sleeve.
Then Qing Tong began to jump up and down, cursing, “Chen Ping’an, you madman! You bastard, you’re truly bewitched, lost your mind! Did your brains get caught in a door as a kid? Doing things that harm others and benefit yourself so smoothly! Do you have to target me so much? If you really move half of the Great Wall of Sword Qi here, do you even know the consequences? As long as the mountains and rivers of Tongye Continent are broken for even a day, you won’t be able to break through realms for even a single day after that! Don’t even dream about it…”

Chen Ping’an frowned slightly, not caring about Qing Tong’s insignificant curses, but wondering about the intentions of that old scholar. The deal had clearly been settled between them.

Within Qing Tong’s heart, it felt like he had been scolded, and the words were definitely not gentle. As a result, Qing Tong suddenly became listless, staring blankly at the bright red Daoist robe. He sighed, first closing the door, then hesitatingly took out two residual talismans from his sleeve. One talisman was made of ordinary yellow seal material, while the other was a rare talisman made of golden material.

Chen Ping’an instantly narrowed his eyes and said in a deep voice, “Xiao Mo, if I need you to act later, don’t worry about the consequences.”

Xiao Mo, who had originally planned to revert to her true form, nodded, continuing to maintain her Dharma appearance, and for the first time, held a sword in both hands.

Qing Tong said with a mind transmission, “Your memory is so good, you must still remember these two old talismans.”

Chen Ping’an remained expressionless.

Of course, he remembered.

One was the Yin Qi Guidance Talisman that he had created in the Flying Eagle Stronghold, following Lu Tai’s instructions, by reversing the Yang Qi Gathering Talisman.

And the other golden talisman, the talisman paper was given to Lu Tai by Chen Ping’an, and Lu Tai ultimately created a Ferrying the Underworld Talisman.

Qing Tong continued to speak with Chen Ping’an through mind transmission, “You guessed right, Zou Zi indeed brought Lu Tai to me back then. Besides leaving me with an unlucky prophecy, Zou Zi also gave me these two residual talismans, saying that they might help me survive a calamity in the future. I think Zou Zi was joking.”

Chen Ping’an nodded and said, “It’s just a joke, you’re right not to take it seriously.”

Qing Tong was actually mentally prepared to try anything, even if it was a long shot. If it really didn’t work, he would have to accept his fate.

He was willing to sacrifice the Demon Suppression Tower to teach Chen Ping’an and that Xiao Mo a lesson. At worst, he would bring the matter to the Confucian Temple, and they would each take a beating.

Qing Tong hesitated for a moment and mentioned a trivial matter, “Zou Zi also brought… a group of Yin creatures with him, saying he needed me to offer some merit, that it was useful to him.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “And then?”

Qing Tong said helplessly, “It was just a little merit, and it was Zou Zi’s request, so of course, I complied.”

It was the first time Xiao Mo had seen her Young Master show such hesitation.

Many years ago, he traveled with Lu Tai, and during their stay at the Flying Eagle Stronghold, outside the door was a dilapidated alley, a dead end, and a wall covered in corpses.

At that time, Chen Ping’an had not yet lent the writing brush named Little Snow Awl to Zhong Kui. His skill in drawing talismans could not yet be considered entering the hall.

In the end, Chen Ping’an remained silent, reaching out to grip the Night Wanderer Sword. He turned and left, saying to Qing Tong, “Don’t let me see you again.”

Qing Tong had a complicated expression, filled with surprise and uncertainty. This guy really just left like that?

Xiao Mo was too lazy to think about why the Young Master had changed his mind.

What the Young Master does is always right.

Qing Tong hesitated for a moment and called out, “Chen Ping’an, aren’t you curious why I’m so…unreasonable?”

The last four words, Qing Tong said awkwardly, forcing himself to get them out.

Chen Ping’an, with his back to Qing Tong, simply looked up at the sky and said in a deep voice, “Hurry up and open the door, no need to see me out.”

Damn it, Qing Tong, where’s your brain? The moment I turn around, it’s “reunion”! You’re just asking for a beating.

Qing Tong continued, “I naturally have my reasons.”

Chen Ping’an turned around and smiled, “Do you like creating unnecessary complications so much?”

Qing Tong was frightened by his gaze, and after a moment of silence, he could only stubbornly and tentatively said, “Review things a bit, chat for a while? If we hit it off, maybe we could still talk about cooperation.”

First, he was worried that the misunderstanding between them was too deep, and he would hold a grudge.

Qing Tong wasn’t really thinking about hitting it off, but what if this guy was stubborn and continued to discuss moving half of the city wall with that Confucian scholar after leaving the Demon Suppression Tower? And what if that young scholar agreed again?

Moreover, Qing Tong was still unwilling to give up and wanted to regain some ground in certain matters. As for fighting, forget about it, the situation was beyond his control, he had taken enough beatings. These two fights today, especially the latter, were a bit too much, and he was still feeling lingering fear. If possible, whether Chen Ping’an sees him or not doesn’t matter, just don’t let him see that “Xiao Mo” by his side again.

Chen Ping’an thought for a moment and nodded with a smile, “I’ll follow the host’s lead, I couldn’t ask for more.”

He flicked his sleeves, sat down cross-legged, and laid the sword across his knees.

Chen Ping’an just sat there in front of Qing Tong and took out a White Steed Passes Gap Talisman from his sleeve, suspending it beside him to keep time.

Qing Tong’s eyelids twitched slightly. Should he say that this guy was cautious, or that he wasn’t giving him any face at all?

Seeing Xiao Mo sitting down as well, Qing Tong hesitated for a moment and chose to sit opposite them.

Chen Ping’an’s first sentence was full of killing intent, “Tongye Continent, Tongye Sect, that Wutong Paradise of Du Mao, did you give it to him?”

Qing Tong had obviously learned his lesson, he wasn’t going to lose face. He said rudely, “Back then, the Parasol Tree Umbrella you brought out of the Lotus Root Paradise, besides being able to isolate from heavenly secrets, was also a quarter of the Lotus Root Paradise. Tracing back to the source, wasn’t it also an item that left from my side?”

What’s the point of bringing up old grudges?

Chen Ping’an smiled and said, “I didn’t mean to bring up old grudges. The Du Mao matter has long been turned over.”

Qing Tong subconsciously glanced at Xiao Mo.

Xiao Mo smiled and said, “Don’t use your own brain to guess my Young Master’s thoughts.”

The parasol tree branch has been known as the “Phoenix Branch” since ancient times.

Divided into four Lotus Root Paradise, the one Chen Ping’an got was an oil-paper umbrella given by the old Daoist priest, and the umbrella ribs were parasol branches.

And since ancient times, the branches and leaves of the parasol tree have been afraid of strong winds and waterlogging in the roots.

This young sword cultivator in front of him had Dao energy on his body, looming in and out, contaminated with the aura of the Great Dao from that stinky woman Feng Yi.
Furthermore, Chen Ping’an, in his cultivation journey of less than fifty years, finds his Dao path intimately connected to water. And it’s not the kind of natural affinity for water-based cultivation that some Qi Refiners possess.

If the Dao aura of that Aunt Yi from the Feng clan could be considered shallow, then, in the unseen realms, a certain Daoic gift from a reincarnation of an ancient Rain Master, though not fully accepted by Chen Ping’an, represents a Daoic suppression that Qing Tong deeply loathes and intensely fears.

Adding to this, Chen Ping’an is also a Sword Cultivator, especially one who has spent so many years at the Great Wall of Sword Qi.