The Sage of Rites finished a bowl of wine at the shop and asked, “What’s the plan?”

The old scholar’s face crinkled into a smile, “A rare opportunity. Allow me to steal a moment to enjoy another drink. A starving soldier can’t fight, after all.”

In reality, the old scholar was currently overseeing all matters, large and small, at the Confucian Temple and Merit Forest. Saying he was “stealing a moment” wasn’t an exaggeration.

The Sage of Rites hesitated, then cautioned, “Remember not to overstep. The Confucian Temple might not be able to deal with you, but I’ll find Chen Ping’an.”

Few were those whom the Sage of Rites felt the need to “caution” so explicitly.

After all, he could usually reason with them.

The old scholar grumbled, “That was unnecessary.”

There were outsiders present; he needed to save face.

The Sage of Rites said, “Then I must trouble the Literary Sage for a guarantee. I don’t want the next Confucian Temple meeting to be the first time Chen Ping’an actively pleads on behalf of his teacher, cleaning up a mess.”

The scripture official Xi Ping had summoned him precisely because he feared the old scholar might act impulsively, beyond anyone’s control.

The old scholar said seriously, “Do you think I don’t understand that? There’s only a student covering for a teacher, never a teacher covering for a student.”

The Sage of Rites said, “Just enjoy your wine.”

The old scholar patted his chest, guaranteeing, “Of course good wine must be savored!”

As soon as the Sage of Rites left, the old scholar crossed his legs, rolled up his sleeves, and prepared to drink.

A young man, barely over forty, could sit at a table with an ancient demon king, a seat of power from the Wild Lands with ten thousand years of cultivation, discussing business and settling old scores.

The traveler in green robes and a bamboo hat was at ease, jovial and witty.

Whatever he said, Yang Zhi had to listen attentively, considering it again and again, hoping to extract some lingering flavor.

For the old scholar, with such a dish to accompany his wine, any table under Heaven served the best vintage.

The old scholar picked up his wine bowl, took a sip, and instantly narrowed his eyes, drew in his shoulders, shivered, and beamed.

Was drinking really that enjoyable? Just drinking alone wasn’t interesting. It was the people at the table, the events outside it.

Seeing the young girl, the River Matriarch of Chao Qiu River, hesitate several times, the old scholar smiled and asked, “Is there something you wish to ask? Ask freely. There are no formalities at the table.”

The old mountain god began to signal with his eyes, reminding Gan Zhou not to speak recklessly.

Gan Zhou had never been one to hold back. “Literary Sage, why do you look nothing like your portrait in the Confucian Temple?”

Having heard that the Literary Sage had resumed his position in the Confucian Temple, she had once snuck out to a county.

Of course she had gone to the Confucian Temple. The Literary Sage in the portrait was a lean, elderly man, dignified and spirited, bearing no resemblance to the skinny, diminutive old man before her.

The old scholar laughed heartily, “That’s just because Old Wu’s painting skills are lacking.”

The young girl leaned on the table, curiously asking, “Why did the Embroidered Tiger, Cui Chan, betray the Literary Sage’s lineage back then?”

The old mountain god had already begun to focus on his nose and the depths of his own heart.

Even Yang Zhi had to cough lightly, reminding the young girl not to be too impudent.

The old scholar wasn’t angry in the slightest. He looked at the desolate scenery outside the tavern, mountains upon mountains, high and low, layered upon layered. After a moment of silence, the old scholar smiled and said slowly, “When a student’s heart is broken by his teacher, a clever man can’t deceive himself and is unwilling to argue with his teacher. So he simply leaves without a word.”

What is regret? That which can never be obtained again, that person whom can never be met again. That is regret.

The old scholar stroked his beard in silence, sighed, picked up his wine bowl, and took a large gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Our words can create thousands of mountains and rivers, breeding confusion, but they can also pave roads and build bridges, bringing light after darkness. Therefore, with loved ones, we must not speak rashly, we must not speak sarcastically, but we must not be silent.”

Gong Xinzhou praised sincerely, “The Literary Sage’s words are truly unshakable truths.”

The old scholar smiled, “It is the insight of my closed-door disciple. I am merely borrowing it.”

Gong Xinzhou, ever the opportunist, said, “No wonder Chen Yin Guan was able to become the Literary Sage’s closed-door disciple.”

The old scholar quickly waved his hand, “Chen Ping’an, this closed-door disciple, I barely managed to trick into joining, because he is very picky about his teachers.”

The old mountain god felt that this statement was truly ingenious, befitting the Literary Sage, who had never lost a debate in the three religions.

Gan Zhou asked again, “They say emperors love their youngest sons. Is the Literary Sage the same?”

The young river goddess was thinking of that outsider from before. He didn’t seem like a scholar at all, more like a rogue, adept at double-crossing.

A mere gesture of his hand, a single sentence, had stunned Mei Fujun.

The old scholar smiled, “I don’t have many students and disciples, so I don’t particularly favor any one. I have affection for each in their own way.”

His students, several direct disciples, plus Mao Xiaodong and the others, were all exceptionally learned, needless to say.

In the past, there was Zuo Daizi for sword inquiries. There was Jun Qian for fist inquiries. Later, there was Cui Chan as a strategist. There was Qi Jingchun as a problem solver.

Therefore, Chen Ping’an, the closed-door disciple whom Little Qi took in as a proxy, can be said to be a culmination of his senior brothers’ strengths. Of course, he may still be lacking, but his future is worth anticipating.

Just consider the present. Who, upon seeing Chen Ping’an, would question, “Are you so-and-so’s junior brother?” Would question, “Are you the old scholar’s closed-door disciple?”

The students were so excellent, so outstanding, that the teacher, apart from being gratified, also felt a little ashamed.

Gan Zhou felt that the Literary Sage was speaking polite formalities, giving her the bureaucratic runaround. Unsatisfied, the young girl took a swig of wine.

The old scholar stroked his beard and smiled, looking at the desolate scenery outside the shop. The same scenery, two different moods, gave rise to two different demeanors. Perhaps this was the heart and cultivation. No matter how powerful ancient gods were, they could never have such thoughts. Iron hearts, involuntary, how tragic.

In the Nine Provinces of Haoran, the dead are treated as if still living, hence the custom of earth burial. And the vast starry sky above all living beings is probably a water burial ground.
The old scholar quickly put aside these thoughts and smiled, “Brother Gong, would you be willing to let me take a look at that ‘Two Hundred Sword Immortal’ seal manual?”

Gong Xinzhou hastily pulled out the seal manual from his sleeve and handed it to the Literary Saint, feeling flustered. “I dare not, I dare not be addressed as ‘Brother’ by you.”

The old scholar joked, “What’s there to dare not? People often call me ‘old’ as well.”

Gong Xinzhou nodded like a woodpecker, his face already flushed red, and he stammered, “I am honored beyond words, honored beyond words.”

The old scholar drank his wine while flipping through the book, quickly reaching the last page. Seeing Chen Ping’an’s seal, he smiled knowingly and returned the manual to Gong Xinzhou. “Treasure it well. When you, Brother Gong, are promoted one day and learn from those mountain spirits to establish your own dwelling, you can still request an item from your local academy as usual. In my opinion, those sage books from the Confucian Temple are, after all, inanimate objects. Why bother looking far and wide, Brother Gong…”

Gong Xinzhou said solemnly, “I must enshrine it properly as a treasure to guard this mountain.”

The old scholar pondered for a moment, drank two bowls of wine, and his thoughts flowed like a spring. Unable to contain himself, he gazed at the mountain god shrine atop Gong Xinzhou’s mountain and slowly recited two lines of poetry.

“Whose fine mountain, I wish to neighbor,
Mountain air detains the setting sun, birds return in pairs.
A panorama of marvelous peaks, most pleasing to the eye,
Invite you to share the scenery.”

“Sheer cliffs rise a thousand fathoms, peaks support the sun and moon,
Exquisite beauty pierces the azure sky, raising hands to the sun and moon.
Upholding heaven and earth for all to see,
Open the celestial gateway for me.”

The painted clay statue of the mountain god inside the shrine suddenly glowed with golden light. Gong Xinzhou, who was at the wineshop, immediately stood up, bowed and saluted the Literary Saint, as if receiving a divine decree.

This was the power of the Literary Saint of Merit, whose words carried the force of Heaven.

If it were in the three continents where the old scholar had attained his Dao, a single sentence from him could elevate the position of a mountain or river spirit and instantly raise the rank of their golden jade register.

The old scholar quickly raised his hand and made a gesture to push down, “Don’t be so polite. It’s just a small matter, and I haven’t raised the height of Brother Gong’s statue. I’m just saying a few kind words, a small, inexpensive act.”

After all, this was the Central Earth Continent, where the Sage Master had attained his Dao. It was not appropriate for the old scholar to overstep his boundaries.

The old scholar glanced at the Mother of the Autumn River. He was only happy for the old mountain god and felt no envy or jealousy. The old scholar nodded secretly and then glanced askance at Soaring Heights.

Soaring Heights immediately understood and said in her mind, “I am willing to accept Ganzhou as an unregistered disciple and teach her several water techniques.”

The old scholar smiled, “Here, within the remains of the Dao Ancestor’s alchemy furnace, there is a river spirit harboring a serpent-coiled mirror, who spends her days with you, Soaring Heights. If this doesn’t count as a karmic connection with the Dao, what does? Chen Ping’an reminded you of this earlier, and you probably thought it was a forced request and didn’t take it seriously. Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘Things have roots and branches, affairs have a beginning and an end’? Have you not considered why the Sage of Rites has confined you here but doesn’t overly restrict your freedom? What is the reason?”

The old scholar, upon saying this, drew a circle on the table. “The alternation of Yin and Yang is like a circle, the cycles of human affairs are like a coiled serpent. In these past few years, you have only been preoccupied with complaining and blaming others, your Dao heart dimming. You are unaware that the Sage of Rites is showing you no small kindness, hoping that you can, here, open up a new vista, find an unconventional path, and walk a broader road, not in techniques but in the path of the Dao. That is the true opportunity for the Fourteenth Realm, no longer just relying on seizing external objects as a path to breakthrough. Have you not carefully considered one thing? Why is it that you, the great demons of the desolate thrones, compared to the mountain peak cultivators of the other three continents, find it so easy to reach the Ascension Realm due to your innate longevity, but so difficult to reach the Fourteenth Realm? Where lies the crux of the problem?”

The old scholar smiled, “Firstly, you must repay debts. Secondly, because you have assumed human form, but you are not truly like humans. Liu Cha has done better than you in this regard. You all think it is because he is a sword cultivator and is blessed by Heaven, but that is not the case. It is only because Liu Cha’s Dao heart is already no different from that of a human.”

Soaring Heights sighed softly and rose to perform a *wanfu* bow to the old scholar. She was truly grateful for his guidance. “Thank you, Literary Saint, for your enlightening advice.”

In truth, this old throne demon was also relieved. Finally, she didn’t have to worry about being “refined” by someone in this alchemy furnace relic one day.

The old scholar shook his head. “I am only pointing out the direction of a path for you. Your future cultivation will still not be easy. For the sake of the wine, I might as well give you another piece of advice: The key lies in the ‘stubbornness’ of reversing your nature and the ‘endurance’ of tempering your Dao heart.”

Soaring Heights felt as if she had taken a tremendous tranquilizer pill.

The old scholar was being so amiable and cordial with her. Did this mean that she would have an extra amulet in the Confucian Temple in the future?

These past few years, Soaring Heights had felt like she was in a drought while selling wine, waiting for rain every day, which was not pleasant.

This was also one of the reasons why Soaring Heights was willing to make a deal with Chen Ping’an. As long as she had some connection with this young man who was the Hidden Official, it would be equivalent to forming a bond with the lineage of the Literary Saint.

And the Literary Saint’s lineage was known throughout the realms for their protectiveness. Especially the old scholar’s love for his closed-door disciple, which was truly outrageous.

Moreover, since Chen Ping’an was the old scholar’s closed-door disciple, he was the junior brother of those several “monsters.”

Because Soaring Heights was very clear that regarding her current situation, among the enshrined sages in the Confucian Temple, even within the three main and assistant Temple Masters, there were objections. If it weren’t for the Sage of Rites speaking up, the Vice Temple Master who had joined forces with Liu Qi on the sea to capture her would have certainly killed her directly.

Unexpectedly, the old scholar smiled again and said, “Again, good deeds have merit, mistakes have demerit. Good and bad, all must be repaid. It is just that correcting mistakes and making amends may not be easier than reaching the Fourteenth Realm. I advise you to prepare yourself early so that you don’t blame me for leading you into a ditch in the future. I am a person who has always been good-tempered, accepting insults with a smile, but I can’t stand it when the goodwill and kindness of the world are trampled in the mud by the powerful. As soon as I see it, I will get angry, and if I get angry, you will have to bear the consequences. Not even the Sage of Rites, or even the Most Sage Teacher pleading on your behalf will be of any use.”

Anyway, the Sage of Rites wasn’t here, and the old fart was nowhere to be found. What was wrong with me saying a few drunken words after getting drunk?
Hearing these blunt, undisguised threats, Yang Zhi felt neither anger nor dared to feel it. After all, Wen Sheng was still a great cultivator of the fourteenth realm, dedicated to restoring the orthodoxy of the Wen Temple.

She proactively rose and refilled Lao Xiucai’s wine cup. Lao Xiucai thanked her and then chuckled, “While enjoying the Lugu wine and browsing miscellaneous books, one should still read proper tomes. Lest you not even know an overturned carrying pole is a single character.”

What could Yang Zhi do but nod in agreement?

Qing Tong had indeed left her a pile of sundry books to pass the time.

Chao Qiu, the River Goddess, was taken aback. Was Wen Sheng subtly implying something about her?

From a young age, she had found reading tedious, it was simply her nature. If Wen Sheng resented her for it, who could she blame?

Gong Xinzhou, sensing Gan Zhou’s expression and fearing she might misunderstand Wen Sheng, immediately chimed in, “A fair maiden, a gentleman’s pursuit. Kind-heartedness is fairness, beauty is grace, thus reading can certainly enhance a beauty’s allure. Of course, one should read the books of sages, for ‘a nature like white jade, cold even when burned; writing like crimson strings, the more plucked, the deeper the sound’. Hence, Wen Sheng’s ‘a song in the pure temple, sung thrice with sighs’ in the ‘Treatise on Rituals’, a resounding wake-up call, deeply thought-provoking. It echoes Li Sheng’s ‘The zithers in the pure temple, with crimson strings and sparse bridges’. How can the so-called poetry exchanges among literati today compare? They fall far short.”

Yang Zhi frowned. There’s an old saying that listening to a wise man for a moment is better than studying for ten years, but listening to this Gong Mountain God flaunting his knowledge in such a sour and affected way, it felt like wasting those ten years of study.

Lao Xiucai changed his approach, smiling, “To leap beyond the Three Realms, outside the Five Elements, one simply needs to read. To ascend to a higher plane, where the Three Realms and Five Elements hold no sway, one must finish reading, with no lingering literary obstructions.”

The young woman was bewildered, the old Mountain God was contemplating how to better flatter, but Yang Zhi’s expression turned solemn.

Lao Xiucai intended to return to the Wen Temple after three bowls of wine at this wine shop, so he savored his last bowl.

The world’s gatherings and separations are hurried and brief, each meeting brings us closer to old age.

History is like a brazier, holding a pile of ashes with lingering warmth.

All the ashes are forgotten souls, and the embers are their lingering traces in the world.

Such as the inscriptions on the Sword Qi Great Wall, the transmitted works of sages, the poetry of Bai and Su, the portraits in the ancestral halls on various mountains, the cliff carvings and stone steles between famous mountains and rivers, the names on tombstones visited by descendants every year… the stories of the ancients, cherished in the hearts and mouths of later generations after centuries and millennia.

Yang Zhi suddenly blurted out, “Wen Sheng has taken a good student.”

“Such nonsense…”

Lao Xiucai paused, then drained his bowl in one gulp, “To hear it another ten thousand times, would never be tiresome.”

The affairs of the heavens cannot last long, and dear friends scatter like water.

Now, there is a guest among us with thunder in his hands, able to command mountains and rivers with ease.

Old affections can still be pursued, mountain winds rush in with fervor.

How similar to the figure in green robes controlling a sword amidst white clouds, looking down upon the Five Peaks as mere mounds.

Central Tongye Continent, within the Demon Suppression Tower, beneath the Wutong tree.

Chen Pingan sat cross-legged, eyes closed in meditation, as if his heart were a studio, his spirit wandering ten thousand miles in dreams.

Qing Tong’s true form and Yin spirit had already followed the young Hidden Official into his dreams, touring the world. Only the burly old man, the Yang spirit incarnation, remained in place, filled with apprehension.

Because that Xiao Mo had once again manifested his peak form, condensing an ethereal Dharma image to a height of ten feet, dressed in white robes and with white hair, bare feet, and holding a sword, simply staring at Qing Tong’s Yang spirit, occasionally glancing at the towering ancient tree.

It was clear he distrusted Qing Tong. If anything seemed amiss, this peak swordsman would cut down the Wutong tree.

The burly old man grumbled, “We’re already allies, is there a need to treat us like thieves?”

Xiao Mo held the sword before him, running his fingers over its pure blade, smiling as he asked, “Where is the sword art of Pei Min now?”

Qing Tong shook his head, “After that sword inquiry in the rain, Pei Min disappeared without a trace.”

For some reason, Xiao Mo felt that something was strange within the empty Demon Suppression Tower.

However, he had repeatedly diverted his attention to inspect every corner of the vast structure, but had failed to discover any Daoist traces.

Xiao Mo asked, “Those twelve carefully arranged picture scrolls, were they all pre-arranged by Zou Zi, and you merely acted according to his plan?”

Qing Tong remained silent.

Xiao Mo asked again, “How did Zou Zi retrieve these twelve ‘answers’?”

Qing Tong still remained silent.

Xiao Mo’s gaze turned cold, “When I ask you a question, don’t pretend to be deaf and mute. Do I have to force you to speak with my sword?”

Qing Tong dared not remain silent any longer, his expression helpless, “How would I know what Zou Zi is thinking, or how he will act in the future? He is Zou Zi! Zou Zi is not some ordinary cultivator of the fourteenth realm!”

Qing Tong’s assessment of Zou Zi was almost comparable to the heavens.

There are already a handful of fourteenth-realm cultivators in the world, so where does the word “ordinary” even come from? It was simply that this Zou Zi, who single-handedly controlled half of the Yin Yang School, was too strange.

Qing Tong continued in a low voice, “Maybe even our mentioning Zou Zi’s name at this moment is a kind of echo of heaven and earth, already falling into Zou Zi’s ears, completely disregarding the layers of heavenly barriers.”

The matter of avoidance, in some secular dynasties, required avoiding the names, style names, and epithets not only of emperors and monarchs, but also of elders in the family. On the mountains, only a small group of peak cultivators received such treatment. If a Qi Refiner rashly called out their name, it was highly likely that it would have an immediate effect. The higher the realm of a Qi Refiner who spoke recklessly, the louder his “voice”, the greater the possibility that the other party would sense it.

At that moment, Chen Pingan, who had been immersed in his dream, still did not open his eyes, but smiled, “I intentionally made it convenient for Zou Zi to collect the answers from the beginning. Xiao Mo, remember what Qing Tong said when we first came here?”

Xiao Mo suddenly understood.

Before laying out the picture scroll illusion, Qing Tong initially asked Chen Pingan if he had ever heard of Zou Zi’s prophesy.

Perhaps from that moment on, it was already as if heaven and earth had unfolded.
Like an imperial examination, Qing Tong was merely the examiner, while the true question setter and the chief examiner presiding over the test were both Zou Zi.

The exam question was Zou Zi’s prophetic utterance.

Therefore, looking back at Chen Ping’an’s answer, it had long been written on the exam paper.

It was precisely borrowing Zheng Juzhong’s words, “Just don’t take it seriously.”

This implied that whether to take it seriously or believe it was up to you, Zou Zi.

Subsequently, within the twelve realms, Chen Ping’an’s various words and actions, the fluctuations of his Dao heart, whether they stemmed from Chen Ping’an’s true nature, whether they were genuine or feigned, resembled a counter-question posed by Chen Ping’an to Zou Zi.

Since his young master had long perceived this and devised a response, Xiao Mo would not trouble herself with unnecessary worries.

Moreover, Qing Tong’s proactive mention of “” could be勉强 considered a belated attempt to mitigate the leak of celestial secrets.

Xiao Mo simply looked at Qing Tong with an idiot’s gaze.

Qing Tong was momentarily speechless, *Alright, I’m an idiot.*

*But Xiao Mo, are you any better than me?*

Xiao Mo smiled.

*Coincidentally, I am a sword cultivator.*

*Thinking and solving puzzles are not my forte, but when it comes to asking with the sword and cutting down people, you can definitely count me in.*

Meanwhile, in the top-floor corridor of a pavilion within the Demon Suppression Tower.

The Sage Master and the Pure Yang Daoist stood leaning against the railing, but they were observing future events with the perspective of those who had passed, which Xiao Mo naturally couldn’t discern.

The middle-aged Daoist, revered by Chen Ping’an as Ancestor Lü, held a whisk and carried a sword on his back. Upon witnessing the situation, he praised, “This Fellow Daoist Joyous Candle is quite perceptive.”

The Sage Master nodded, saying, “None of these peak Ascension Realm sword cultivators are pushovers.”

When the Pure Yang Perfected One heard Chen Ping’an’s words, he was quite surprised and couldn’t help but lament, “Like a mortal traversing the steep mountains in snowy weather, one careless step can lead to a fall into the abyss, shattering bones and crushing flesh. To scheme against Zou Zi like this is perilous indeed.”

The Sage Master smiled slightly, “This is what Kou Ming calls ‘finding peace in the natural, understanding through self-experience’. It can also be seen as the Old Scholar’s saying, ‘Those who know themselves do not blame others, those who know destiny do not resent Heaven’. To put it bluntly, it’s like airing clothes when the sun is high, and retrieving them when it rains. But if… you forget, you forget.”

The Pure Yang Perfected One wanted to expand upon these words and take the opportunity to seek guidance from the Sage Master on the fundamental tenets of the Three Teachings.

However, the Sage Master seemed unwilling to discuss this further and changed the subject, smiling and asking, “You’ve been wandering the Azure Billow Heaven for so long, haven’t you secretly gone to Jade Emperor City to listen to Kou Ming preach?”

In the hazy vision, one could faintly see an earlier time, a Daoist drinking alone under a parasol tree, the setting sun and cold wind, an old friend not arriving, standing until the shadow of the parasol tree lengthened.

This middle-aged-looking Enlightened Grandmaster fully captured the spirit of “a jade tree facing the wind, a tall tree attracting the wind.”

The Pure Yang Daoist smiled, “I’ve eavesdropped three times, but Headmaster Lu has always accompanied me.”

The Sage Master said, “Because Lu Chen had foreseen future events long ago, and was still worried that you would return to the Radiant World in the future, taking away too much Dao Qi from the Azure Billow Heaven and the White Jade Capital.”

The Pure Yang Daoist said, “If Lu Chen hadn’t left his hometown, he could have added at least one and a half more Dragon Tiger Mountains to the Radiant World.”

The Sage Master smiled slightly, “To gain it is my fortune, to lose it is my fate. Flowers blooming outside the wall are still flowers.”

The Pure Yang Daoist sighed, “Lu Chen’s Dao heart is unfathomable, and he’s only willing to think highly of this Senior Apprentice-Brother.”

According to Lu Chen’s words back then, his master was in harmony with the Dao, almost one with it. The higher his Dao was, the greater his fighting skills were.

And Lu Chen also admired that Senior Apprentice-Brother who accepted disciples on his master’s behalf, never concealing the fact that the reason he left the Radiant World and went to the Azure Billow Heaven was to seek Dao from the Grand Headmaster of the White Jade Capital. Before meeting Kou Ming, Lu Chen had praised him excessively, “Suspected of going to the Void, not imprisoned by Heaven and Earth,” “The Real Person is profound and harmonious in all directions, we cannot see his traces,” “One person lightly riding the wind, unreliant on anything, shouldering the Great Dao, wandering the vast emptiness”…

Lu Chen even declared that he would write a biography for his Senior Apprentice-Brother.

Perhaps in Lu Chen’s eyes, Senior Apprentice-Brother Kou Ming alone deserved the title of “Real Person.”

Therefore, after Lu Chen became the Third Headmaster, he only ever called Kou Ming “Senior Apprentice-Brother” to the two Senior Apprentice-Brothers in the White Jade Capital, but would call Yu Dou “Senior Apprentice-Brother Yu.”

In addition, Lu Chen had some fragmented and strange words about this Senior Apprentice-Brother, which others still couldn’t understand, such as the root of Heaven, changing into seven, seven changing into nine, returning to one, a false person…

When the Pure Yang Daoist first traveled to the White Jade Capital, Lu Chen had only recently become the Little Disciple of the Dao Ancestor.

At that time, Lu Chen was still relatively “young and vigorous,” telling the Pure Yang Perfected One that the Dao arts of the world originated from the Dao Ancestor, continued the incense with Kou Ming, flourished with me, Lu Chen, and would become a grand sight with the world in the future.

Lu Chen was consistently playful in the mortal realm, liking to speak common language with ordinary people, and speak high-level language that would alarm the people of heaven with accomplished experts.

By the time the Pure Yang Daoist visited the White Jade Capital for the second time, Lu Chen had already successfully reached the Fourteenth Realm, possessing the unprecedented “Five Dreams and Seven Heart Aspects.”

In fact, the Daoist friend who traveled with the Pure Yang Perfected One in Jade Emperor City at that time was the White Bone Perfected One, one of Lu Chen’s incarnations.

The Pure Yang Daoist speculated that one of Lu Chen’s Great Daos, such as the Seven Heart Aspects outside of the Five Dreams, was very likely derived from and verified by the Grand Headmaster Kou Ming’s saying “One is the beginning of form change, one changes into seven.”

Such things were not common in the mountains, but there were indeed some precedents, just like someone proposed a certain assumption that seemed to be suspended in the air, absurd and unfounded, a castle in the air, and then someone actually made it.

The Sage Master lightly tapped the railing and said slowly, “If Kou Ming had been born a few years earlier, I wouldn’t dare say that one of the Ten Greats of the world would be in the bag, but he would definitely have a place among the candidates.”

In the present world, there are two theories about the source of the Dao art that first created “people without realms”, one is derived from the Western Buddhist kingdom, tracing back to the saying of “nothingness”, and the other is from the White Jade Capital Grand Headmaster Kou Ming’s “walking above all things, treading emptiness as if walking on solid ground, sleeping in emptiness as if lying in bed”.

Also, because of this saying, some accomplished experts in the Azure Billow Heaven who looked far and wide always felt that the White Jade Capital Grand Headmaster’s Dao art often “seemed to be intertwined with Buddhist scriptures”, and occasionally “resembled Confucianism and Legalism”.
They merely harbored such disrespectful thoughts out of respect for the Grand Master, naturally not voicing them aloud, only mentioning them during casual chats amongst close friends on the mountain peak.

In Qingming Heaven, there existed a widely circulated collection of strange tales, penned by an anonymous author, titled “Records of the Extraordinary.” It spoke of an enlightened True Man in ancient times who would often travel the world on the vernal equinox, riding the wind, and return to the cave of wind on the autumnal equinox. His arrival brought forth the flourishing of vegetation, while his departure caused it to wither.

This tall, powerfully built old man turned his head, smiling as he asked, “If there were a similar ranking to the ‘Ten Heroes of the World’ in the future, how many of the twenty-two young talents, previously selected by Zou Zi, do you think could make the list?”

The Pure Yang Daoist pondered for a moment before replying, “In my view, at most twenty percent will be able to ascend the ranks. And before that, a contest of fates and opportunities will likely take a millennium to settle. Aside from Ning Yao of Five Colors Heaven and Fei Ran, the barbarian co-ruler, due to their established renown, none can confidently claim victory.”

The implication was that only four or five young individuals could successfully join the ranks of the “top of the mountain,” those fifteen or sixteen individuals.

The Pure Yang Daoist’s words held a deeper meaning: among the Fourteenth Realm cultivators in the various heavens, some would inevitably be excluded.

This was compounded by the ascent of certain Flying Ascent Realm Perfected cultivators, each achieving the Great Dao, further squeezing the available spots.

The Most Holy Teacher jested, “Surely Pure Yang Lü Yan would be one of them, right?”

The Pure Yang Daoist shook his head, saying, “I am a free and easy person, I shall not join this excitement. I wish to seek the Great Dao from a humble starting point.”

The Most Holy Teacher seemed unsurprised, asking, “Is it because you believe that the ultimate Dao cannot be sought with affection, and therefore you intend to sever emotional ties with the sword of wisdom? Have you chosen a cultivation site?”

The Pure Yang Daoist nodded, “I have chosen one, but I fear that once I enter, I may not be able to leave, and become forever lost within. Therefore, I may need the Most Holy Teacher to help select someone to protect me slightly, only to speak a few ‘tangential words’ at critical moments.”

The Most Holy Teacher smiled, “Wouldn’t it be coincidental if the old saying, ‘What you seek is far away, but it’s right in front of you,’ applies?”

Lü Yan felt somewhat helpless.

It wasn’t that he was dissatisfied with the Most Holy Teacher’s choice, but that once he chose this person, he would likely have to offer something. It wasn’t about being stingy, but that for cultivators of Lü Yan’s level, any connection, good or bad, would be troublesome.

Lü Yan said, “Allow me to consider it further?”

The Most Holy Teacher said, “What are you saying? It sounds as if I am forcing you to agree. It is a matter that requires mutual consent. Even if you agree, wouldn’t I still need to ask Chen Ping An? If he doesn’t agree, can I force him?”

Heavy rain poured down. A person wearing a bamboo hat and a cloak of green coir walked along the riverbank. Upon encountering a mountain peak, a light tap of the toes would send the figure flitting like a wisp of green smoke, arriving at the summit in an instant.

This Qiantang River, also known as Zhe River in ancient times, splits into northern and southern sources with numerous tributaries. At this moment, Chen Ping An stood at the mouth of the Seven Li Cascade. Cao Yong, the former head of Qiantang, now the Earl of Linli in Treasure Bottle Continent, had his cultivation site nearby, an ancient, fragmented secret realm called the Wind and Water Cave. Legend said it was rich in dragon qi, the burial ground for many ancient Shu dragons. However, the site now had several layers of interlocking illusions. Ordinary land immortals, even those skilled in geography with a detailed map, would only be led around in circles, unable to find the entrance.

Chen Ping An deliberately restrained his aura, suppressing his martial intent, allowing the rain to beat upon him. He adjusted his hat and gazed into the distance at a bustling commercial county. Shops lined the riverbank, and numerous guildhalls were built for merchants to rest and discuss business. Besides various merchant ships, there were also elaborately decorated pleasure boats known as ‘water chestnut boats.’ According to the local county records, nine clans of fishermen lived on the water, all of low social status, forbidden from taking the imperial examinations or wearing shoes ashore.

Even when they came ashore, their clothing and accessories had to be distinguished from ordinary people. For example, the identity of a boatman could be easily identified by the umbrella in their hand.

The entrance to the old dragon’s cultivation site, unlike the usual immortal abodes built in secluded mountains or deep waters, was actually near the county office, precisely located between the Xuanmiao Temple and the Zhaode Shrine in the northwest corner.

Qing Tong lifted a corner of her veil and glanced in that direction, whispering, “Rumor has it that this old Qiantang dragon is cruel and tyrannical.”

Chen Ping An nodded, “The rivers of the world each have their own nature, just like people are born with a certain temperament inherited from their mothers.”

For example, in Red Candle Town, where the three rivers converged, the Jade Liquid River was unpredictable, the Chongdan River was fierce, and the Embroidered Flower River was gentle. As for the nature of the Qiantang River’s main channel, the poems that sang of its surging tides were proof enough. Before Cao Yong ascended to the Nascent Soul realm, his means of governing the waters under his jurisdiction were extremely strict. He frequently clashed with the neighboring River Gods, appointed by the early dynasties, slaughtering hundreds of thousands of aquatic creatures and damaging hundreds of miles of crops.

Sensing the strange change in the world, an old man in official robes strode out of the cultivation site with an imposing aura. He stood outside the Xuanmiao Temple, a burly figure with deep-set eyes, distinct features, and a thick beard, wearing a robe of jade inlaid with gold.

This Grand Canal Earl of Linli, whose true form almost always remained within the Wind and Water Cave, narrowed his golden eyes, placed his hands on his jade belt, and looked towards the green figure on the mountain peak.

Activating his innate divine ability, he could see what ordinary Qi Refinement practitioners could not. He saw the green-robed visitor on the mountain peak with an obscured face, accompanied by a female attendant wearing a veil.

Cao Yong loudly proclaimed, “Since you are already here, friend, why hide your head and tail? Are you so ashamed to be seen?”

Before his words could settle, he had already activated his divine ability, condensing the rain into a water spell, transforming it into a cyan dragon hundreds of feet long, rushing straight towards the couple on the mountain peak.

To dare display such…mirage illusion techniques on his territory, before a Grand Canal Marquis equivalent to a Jade Purity Realm cultivator?
Just the next moment, Cao Yong’s mood turned heavy. He saw the scholar in green simply raise his hand, performing a technique akin to an immortal art of “sleeve universe, pot of sun and moon,” directly taking the water dragon into his sleeve. Then, he switched hands and shook his sleeve again, transferring the water as if pouring an entire river into the rolling river at the foot of the mountain.

Qing Tong was gleeful, thinking, “In this dream, Chen Ping’an is the heavens. You, a water dragon of the Jade Purity realm, have long lost the advantage of commanding a small world. How can you contend with him?”

Chen Ping’an took a step, shrinking the mountains and rivers, and arrived directly beside Cao Yong. He removed his bamboo hat, clasped his fists, and smiled, “Junior Chen Ping’an greets the Marquis of Torrential Rains.”

“Junior?”

Cao Yong was quite surprised when he clearly saw the other’s face, especially by the self-deprecating title the other used, which was even more unexpected.

The two had never met, and there was no prior connection between them. Why would he lower himself in such a way and act with such junior-like etiquette?

Cao Yong suppressed the doubts in his heart, returned the greeting with clasped hands, “Cao Yong of the Great Waterway, greets Hidden Official Chen.”

Cao Yong turned to the side, extended his hand, and said with a smile, “Hidden Official, please.”

A small door appeared, with the golden words “A Separate Heaven and Earth” on the lintel, along with a couplet.

“Within the cave, see a cave within a cave. Beyond the sky, form a sky beyond the sky.”

Qing Tong glanced at the couplet through the bamboo hat veil and softly recited, “Within the cave, see a cave within a cave. Beyond the sky, form a sky beyond the sky.”

But Qing Tong quickly changed his interpretation, “Within the cave, one perceives the cave within the cave. Beyond the sky, one fashions the sky beyond the sky?”

Cao Yong asked with a smile, “May I ask, friend, could you perhaps be Immortal Ning of the Sword?”

Chen Ping’an was momentarily speechless.

Behind the thin veil of the bamboo hat, Qing Tong rolled his eyes fiercely, thinking, “What kind of eyesight does this old dragon have?”

“No wonder he’s only half a bucket of water in the Jade Purity realm.”

Cao Yong knew he had spoken out of turn and pretended he hadn’t said anything, leading the two of them into the Feng Shui grotto.

Inside the grotto, the three traversed through corridors, passing by white jade pillars, jade green steps, coral couches, crystal curtains, glazed doorways, amber bridges… all the treasures of the mortal realm were gathered here.

The only flaw was that although the spiritual energy within this Feng Shui grotto was abundant and thick like water, it was devoid of people, not even so much as a talisman puppet, appearing lifeless.

After learning of the young Hidden Official’s purpose, Cao Yong didn’t rush to express his stance, but instead asked, “Why does Hidden Official seek me out?”

Chen Ping’an said, “There is a senior at our Fallen Mountain. Most of the fist techniques that I and my disciple, Pei Qian, practice were taught by him. He and Elder Cao can be considered acquaintances who became friends through a clash.”

Cao Yong pondered for a moment, then tentatively asked, “Is it that Cui Cheng?”

It wasn’t difficult to guess. Within the lands of the Jade Bottle Continent, the pure martial artist who could teach Chen Ping’an and Pei Qian was either Da Li’s Song Changjing or the Cui Cheng who had been missing for many years. Considering Chen Ping’an’s connection to the lineage of the Sage of Literature, and the fact that Cui Cheng’s grandson, the Embroidered Tiger Cui Chan, had once held the position of the chief disciple of the Sage of Literature’s lineage, it was clearly more likely to be Cui Cheng. Moreover, Chen Ping’an had said that this person and himself were acquaintances who became friends through a clash, so it could only be Cui Cheng.

As expected, Chen Ping’an nodded with a smile.

In fact, Cao Yong, as the elder dragon of the Qiantang River, could have entered the Jade Purity realm a hundred years ago, but at that time, the Qiantang River basin had suffered a rare millennium-level drought. Cao Yong had no other choice but to reveal his true form, drawing seawater and pouring it into the Qiantang River, which brought about a rain of deliverance. This kind of action was tantamount to going against his own great Dao. It was only because he no longer had a direct superior that the old dragon “only” suffered the fate of losing three to five hundred years of cultivation. If it had been three thousand years ago, or even ten thousand years ago, Cao Yong would have been directly sent to the Dragon Slaying Platform to be skinned, have his tendons extracted, and his head chopped off.

Before this, Cui Cheng didn’t have much respect for the volatile-tempered Qiantang elder. He had even visited Cao Yong because of a certain incident, engaging in a fierce questioning through martial arts.

After that, Cui Cheng’s impression of Cao Yong changed somewhat, and he took the initiative to visit again, not to question through martial arts, but to… ask for wine.

However, Cui Cheng never mentioned anything about the past when teaching martial arts at the bamboo building in Fallen Mountain, as if not even once.

Instead, the old man was amiable and willing to chat with the two young girls, Nuan Shu and Xiao Mi Li, sharing stories of his early adventures without any airs.

According to Pei Qian, Sister Nuan Shu always listened attentively, but Xiao Mi Li was something else entirely. When she heard stories that had already been told once or twice, she would shake her head vigorously, not giving the old man any face, directly interjecting, “You’ve already told that one! Tell a more exciting, scarier story about the mountains and rivers…” The old man never disappointed Xiao Mi Li with the stories that followed. Of course, Xiao Mi Li’s support was also remarkable, listening with gasps of surprise and countless exclamations.

Chen Ping’an introduced the friend beside him to Cao Yong, using the Daoist name Qing Tong, and mentioning he was from Tongye Continent.

Naturally, Cao Yong had never heard of this person, and simply assumed he was a reclusive master who rarely showed his face.

Qing Tong’s first words made Cao Yong think even more highly of this person.

“Marquis of Torrential Rains, you seem to have a not-so-shallow connection with the Pure Yang Daoist.”

Cao Yong didn’t feel that this was any unspeakable secret and nodded, saying, “I was once fortunate enough to hear a Daoist master who called himself Pure Yang explain the *Fire Sutra*. I achieved minor enlightenment through this and was able to enter the Nascent Soul stage. Unfortunately, I have never been able to repay the kindness of the Pure Yang Daoist’s teachings.”

When that foreign Daoist preached and explained the Dao in the Feng Shui grotto that year, the Great Dao manifested, his words were like pearls, and a rain of fire descended.

After being tempered by this rain of fire, Cao Yong’s journey along the river became extremely smooth and easy, just like an accomplished scholar who had passed the imperial examination turning around to participate in a prefectural or even a county examination, which was of course a trivial matter.

After learning about the connection between the young Hidden Official and Cui Cheng, Cao Yong readily agreed to the matter of the stick of heartfelt incense.

Cao Yong suddenly asked, “More guests have arrived, one boat with two groups of people, all old friends of my water mansion here. Does Master Chen mind meeting them together?”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “As you wish.”

In fact, Chen Ping’an had noticed the group’s presence even earlier than Cao Yong.

On a small boat on the river sat three cultivators from other continents and two local water gods from the Jade Bottle Continent.
Seeing Chen Ping’an being so courteous to a water dragon, Qing Tong felt a bit puzzled. Why didn’t the Grand Councilor show any signs of “when in Rome” with him?

Cao Yong, naturally unaware of the inside story, still took the lead in introducing the identities of the passengers on the boat to the young Grand Councilor.

Two Water Gods, both qualified to establish their own manors as Lake Lords. One governs Qingcao Lake near the Qiantang River, located near Longyou County and Wushang County. The female Water Lord is named Zhu Xiang.

The other Lake Lord is named Wang Xiangjin, governing Bìluó Lake in Dangtu County.

The remaining three are not native cultivators of Treasure Bottle Continent. Among them is Chen Zhenrong from the Chunru Chen clan of Southern Suo Continent, skilled in painting dragons.

Besides, there are two from the Central Earth Divine Continent. The female cultivator is named Qin Buyi, and the other is a man who calls himself a “Luoyang Muke” (Wooden Peddler of Luoyang), a purveyor of sundry goods.

These three foreign cultivators had actually visited before as guests, but Chen Zhenrong had a sudden whim to tour Longyou County, which in ancient times belonged to the land of Gūmiè, established as Tàimò County, later renamed several times before finally being named Longyou.

Heavy rain poured down, the sky was gloomy, travelers sat precariously, and returning boats moved alone.

A black awning boat rose and fell with the waves in the river, white rain splashed wildly into the boat, looking like it could capsize at any moment.

Five people were drinking and laughing on the boat, all of whom were, of course, enlightened individuals, immortals among men.

Their conversation was also related to cultivation, but they each held their own opinions on which of the twelve realms below Ascension was the most crucial.

Some said it was the Human Retention Realm in the Lower Five Realms, pioneered by Liu Qishou and expanded by someone else, allowing cultivators to ascend to the heavens in one step.

Others said it was the Cave Abode Realm, the first layer of the Middle Five Realms, reasoning that there were countless paths for one’s cultivation. Various unorthodox and even heretical paths existed, but at their core, they were merely matters of opening and closing the door. Closing the door meant dwelling in the mountains with one’s body and Dao heart. Once the door was opened, the myriad affairs of the mortal world, the dust and clamor, were also cultivation, with a similarity to the Mahayana and Hinayana of Buddhism.

Some also said that the most important was the Ocean Observation Realm. Those who cultivate begin to ascend the mountain, and in this realm, like viewing the vast sea from a tower, the realm may not be high, but the spirit is the greatest. Just the half-sentence passed down by an unknown person, “The Nine Continents are centered, like a snake coiled around a mirror,” is a vision of such vastness that even the Jade Purity and Immortal Realms of the Upper Five Realms, though higher in position, cannot be compared to it.

Seeing that Chen Ping’an did not reject the matter, Cao Yong took him and his friend Qing Tong out of the cave mansion to the shore to welcome the small boat that was about to dock.

Gusting winds and driving rain turned day into night. The three of them didn’t need to use any illusions.

The five people on the boat, seeing the three on the shore, were instantly surrounded by fragrant air. A woman with a graceful figure, naturally repelling water, came ashore without any rain gear. Looking at the man in a bamboo hat and raincoat, she was a little shy. She ran her fingers through her temples, her eyes shining brightly, and said softly, “The water mansion is deep and secluded, in a remote corner. This little god is dim-witted, with disheveled hair and rain-streaked face, a sorry sight to behold.”

Qing Tong clicked his tongue inwardly.

Chen Ping’an lowered his head slightly, cupped his fist, and smiled, “Greetings, Water Lord Zhu Xiang of Qingcao Lake.”

Water Lord Wang Xiangjin of Bìluó Lake, tall and slender, but wearing a mask, came ashore. Seeing the man in green robes, he bowed and saluted like a scholar meeting a scholar, “Allow me, Mr. Chen, to make a fool of myself.”

Wang Xiangjin was a weak scholar in life, without official titles or battlefield heroism. He belonged to the typical tale of good fortune, marrying into the Dragon Palace Water Mansion within the old Bìluó Lake. Before the Dragon Lord died, he abdicated to Wang Xiangjin, because his appearance was gentle and refined, the Dragon Lord was worried that Wang Xiangjin would not be able to subdue the water monsters, so he gifted him a ghost mask. Wearing it made his face red and fanged, ferocious as a Yaksha. It was a water-based treasure that allowed the son-in-law to wear it during the day and remove it at night, both to assist in cultivation and to deter the masses. After succeeding to the position of Water Lord, his divine statue was in the appearance of wearing the ghost mask, as were the other accompanying gods in the temple.

Chen Ping’an returned the salute with a smile, “I have long heard of the Water Lord of Bìluó Lake.”

The female cultivator from the Central Earth Divine Continent, with a wooden spear on her back and a white poplar blade at her waist, and the taciturn peddler of sundries, simply nodded to the young Grand Councilor, and Chen Ping’an nodded in return.

The old man with a wine-stained nose, surnamed Chen, laughed heartily, “Mountain Master Chen, wouldn’t you say we are distant relatives?”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “You could say that, but it’s a bit of a stretch.”

The old man joked, “No wonder Blacksmith Ruan dislikes talking about you the most.”

Chen Ping’an’s smile remained unchanged, and he didn’t respond.

The old man suddenly asked, “Earlier, we were discussing on the boat which of the twelve realms is the most important. What is Mountain Master Chen’s opinion?”

Chen Ping’an said earnestly, “They are all important.”

The old man was stunned, and gave a thumbs up, “Insightful!”

Afterwards, Cao Yong asked them to go to the mansion first, while he would escort the young Grand Councilor for a distance.

Before leaving Qililong, Chen Ping’an asked this Lord of Drenching Rain whether something was feasible.

The old dragon held his jade belt with both hands, and said with a carefree expression, “It is a matter of course for righteous individuals to attain the Dao.”

After obtaining the old dragon’s consent, Chen Ping’an waved his sleeve, and the wind and rain suddenly stopped for a moment. Golden light sparkled, transforming into a golden river that surged into his sleeve.

Historically, more than a thousand literati and poets have left behind more than two thousand poems.

And those poems recorded in local gazetteers, amounting to hundreds of thousands of words, seemed to be “peeled off” from books as if by imperial decree.

Cao Yong, seeing this strange phenomenon, stood there even after Chen Ping’an and his friend Qing Tong had left, unable to regain his senses for a long time. He was filled with emotion, never imagining that the young Grand Councilor’s Dao arts were so extraordinary, in addition to his swordsmanship and boxing.

In the corridor, Lü Yan asked, “The Most Sage Teacher had met Master Zou before?”

“I met him, and we chatted a few words. In the end, Master Zou said something harsh to me, ‘We eat at the same table, but we hold our own bowls.'”

The Most Sage Teacher nodded, “Because I first said something soft to Master Zou, ‘You, a fortune-telling Yin-Yang diviner, should not bully our Confucian disciples.'”
Pure Yang Daoist noticed that the Sage Master beside him seemed to be in quite a good mood, his face full of smiles, barely managing to restrain himself from bursting into laughter.

Pure Yang Daoist inquired, “Sage Master, have you glimpsed some…future visions?”

“I have beheld some of the past, witnessing all cultivators, all mortal teachers, each and every one of us, standing upon this earth like majestic… peaks. Without exception, we all stand upright, touching the heavens, each with our own height. Regardless of the trials we face, even when we bow our heads, bend our waists, we still tread firmly upon the earth, carrying the azure sky on our backs.”

The Sage Master smiled gently, “As for future affairs, to see through them is one thing, to speak of them diminishes their power.”

It was countless subtle trajectories and paths that created countless indistinct tapestries, ultimately converging and merging at a certain point.

The clouds and mist in the world dissipated, and one could vaguely see someone leading the way, with several figures closely following behind, gradually ascending to greater heights.

But before that, the Sage Master discerned a peculiar and extraordinary detail.

The Sage Master couldn’t help but clap his hands and laugh.

That scene flashed by in an instant. It was the previous joint visit of the three founders of the three major religions to the former site of the Li Zhu Cave Heaven. At that time, within the small town, Dao Ancestor was the only one of the three who met Chen Ping An.

Dao Ancestor walked shoulder to shoulder with Chen Ping An, heading towards that Mud Jar Lane together.

In the end, Dao Ancestor stopped outside the alley.