In the hour of the Rabbit, as the dawn painted the eastern sky with strokes of pale light, a thick mist clung to the mountains. The air was crisp and clean, each leaf and flower adorned with shimmering orbs of morning dew, round and heavy, trembling as if holding back a secret.

Chen Ping An, a bundle of homespun cloth tucked beneath his arm, chose a narrow path leading into the heart of the mountains. He walked alone, his spirit lifted by the tranquility that surrounded him.

He paused, turning his head to gaze back down the trail. Soon, a figure appeared, an old man with a stooped back hurrying towards him. He carried a broken branch, now adorned with a single blossom. In the eyes of the world, this act performed by the Sword Immortal Mi would be seen as an act of grace, but by this old cook it was seen as… slightly unbecoming.

Zhu Lian, his left hand clenched at his waist, swept the flowering branch behind him like a drawn blade. “An auspicious meeting!” he called out, his voice echoing through the trees. “It seems the early bird does catch the worm, and I have stumbled upon our young master.”

The young master moved always in this way, a silent storm that brings the spring.

Only yesterday had he spoken of teaching the siblings Cao Yin and Cao Yang the art of the fist, and yet here he was, before the sun had fully risen.

Mortals often mistake wandering the world for nothing more than the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other, a journey of miles between one’s homeland and some far-flung destination.

But true wandering is something more, the distance between a thought and an action, a long journey within the heart itself.

Chen Ping An stood waiting by the side of the path, his hands tucked into his sleeves. When Zhu Lian had caught up, they walked on together. “Are Zhao Shuxia and Zhao Denggao no longer needed to turn away unwanted guests?”

The two were both named Zhao, one the direct disciple of Chen Ping An in the art of war, the other the most favored student of the blind Taoist Jia Sheng. Perhaps it was their shared nature, or their similar origins, but Zhao Shuxia and Zhao Denggao were kindred spirits. They, together with Zhou Juchen, Tian Jiu’er, and Cui Huasheng from Riding Dragon Alley, were a faction on their own, though one much smaller than the Bamboo Lodge of Fallen Phoenix Mountain, and therefore less noticed.

Zhu Lian nodded. “The authorities have discreetly spread word that outsiders are forbidden from approaching Fallen Phoenix Mountain. Here in Chuzhou, the scrutiny of travel documents is already strict. This has helped us turn away many a self-proclaimed cultivator and wandering martial artist, without inciting undue complaint. These past few years have seen the laws of the Great Li truly take root in the hearts of the people. After all, every immortal abode has a decree etched in stone, and nobody wants to take those things lightly.”

Chen Ping An smiled. “It seems the word of the Emperor carries the most weight, after all.”

Zhu Lian considered. “I suspect this wasn’t the work of Magistrate Wu Yuan, nor even the prefects of Bao Creek and Dragon Spring. Officialdom is a delicate game; they would fear overstepping. Perhaps it was…”

Zhu Lian raised the flowering branch, pointing it towards the heavens.

The Emperor himself.

Chen Ping An nodded. “Most likely a direct edict from Song He to Wu Yuan.”

Zhu Lian chuckled. “A thoughtful gesture.”

He turned curious. “If His Imperial Majesty is so sincere, having even attended your wedding and personally inviting you to serve the court, why have you refused the role of Grand Preceptor? Is there some hesitation?”

To all, it seemed right and just that Chen Ping An should take the place of Cui Chan. It would benefit all involved. Of course, it would also divert his attention from Fallen Phoenix Mountain, which occupied only a small corner of the Empire. Zhu Lian knew his master well; such a position would consume him for decades in the capital and the western capital of Luoyang. In doing so, the Song clan would become beholden to him, and Song Mu, the Prince of Luo, would never be able to succeed his brother on the throne.

Chen Ping An nodded. “There are many reasons.”

Zhu Lian did not press. “Then we shall bide our time.”

He glanced at the bundle tucked beneath Chen Ping An’s arm. “A gift for the twin jewels, perhaps?”

Chen Ping An explained, “These are some rare books for Cao Yin. Qing Tong of the Demon Suppression Tower, now a guest elder of Green Sprout Sword Sect, once gifted Immortal Capital Mountain with a generous collection of expensive texts. I’ve selected some works that were once lost and scattered to the wind.”

Zhu Lian raised an eyebrow in jest. “What portion of that lost collection did you leave for Immortal Capital Mountain?”

Chen Ping An clapped the old cook on the shoulder. “One must be generous, act with boldness. Or so I advised my eager student. Dongshan took the hint. He even dared to ask whether he should bring more of those tomes back to Fallen Phoenix Mountain. Since my student was being so courteous, how could I refuse?”

Zhu Lian suppressed a smile. “Grandmaster Cui remains respectful, at least in your presence.”

Chen Ping An said, “As for the matter of Warmth Tree ‘walking the waters,’ I have a general plan. I discussed it with her last night, but she refused, not wanting me to expend my energy on such matters. Warmth Tree is too considerate. I cannot bear to say a harsh word to her. Ah, if it were Chen Lingjun, I would have slammed his head into the ground.”

Zhu Lian threw his head back and laughed. Was this the difference between raising a daughter and raising a son?

He collected himself, nodding seriously. “In all honesty, Warmth Tree’s breakthrough will be far more difficult than Chen Lingjun’s. Matters of ethereal literary fortune are rare and unpredictable. Little Warmth Tree would never agree to such a thing.”

Chen Nuan Shu was once the embodiment of the literary fortune of the Book Pavilion in the form of a fire serpent, but has now taken the form of a mortal woman. So, the typical process of a water sprite transforming into a dragon along a river holds no meaning for her.

The pink-skirted girl and the green-robed boy who first followed the master were opposites. One appeared soft, but was hard within, and the other the reverse. Although, in reality, Chen Lingjun didn’t seem to have any softness within at all, only cowardice.

Chen Ping An continued, “So, apart from my own arrangements, some external aid is needed. I intend to acquire a pot of literary fortune iris from Mount Nine Doubts, an iris that has grown for three thousand years. The Mountain God of Nine Doubts has invited Madame Rouge to be a guest there, and Sword Immortal Shao will surely accompany her. There are only a few such irises, treasured by the Mountain God. It would be understandable that he does not want to part with them, and so the task will not be an easy one. But, no matter the price, I will have it. Everything can be discussed, but when it comes to Warmth Tree’s path, things are different.

“If Shao Yunyan cannot reach an agreement with Nine Doubts, then Liu Jinglong and I will make a trip to Mount Nine Doubts when we travel through the Central Continent.”

He twisted his wrist with a sly grin. “They shouldn’t force me to resort to theft, leaving behind only money as I flee.”

The steward of Fallen Phoenix Mountain, the god of wealth in charge of the treasury, Wei Wenlong, remains at the Golden Core realm.

Wei Wenlong is the direct disciple of Sword Immortal Shao Yunyan. They have not met since their parting at Spring Pennant Hall.

Chen Ping An wondered if he should ask Sword Immortal Shao to visit Fallen Phoenix Mountain first.

Zhu Lian suddenly spoke. “Since you are acting as a mediator for both Feng Yi and the Hundred Flowers Paradise, will you deliver the color-threaded knot? And while visiting the Paradises, will you investigate something for me? The gazetteers speak of spirit guardians of the Blossom Temples, but do they truly manage the fragrances of flowers? Are these Paradise officials all women, or are there also male immortals among them? I beg you to inquire on this matter as well…”

Chen Ping An smiled and agreed.

Zhu Lian added, “Grandmaster Cui gifted Cao Yin three secret manuals of the Dao, corresponding to his River Gazing stage, his Dragon Gate stage, and how to overcome that bottleneck to form his Golden Core. The annotations alone spanned over six thousand characters. Cui Dongshan is truly a master architect, able to take Cao Yin’s mortal body as a foundation and build upon it with such precision.”

“Moreover, when Pei Qian and Sui Rightside were cultivating at the Sword Worship Terrace, they also taught Cao Yang some boxing.”

Young Cao Yin, whose courtesy name is Fengsheng, is a sword cultivator nearing the River Gazing bottleneck. Young Cao Yang, nicknamed Wutong, is a peak Fourth Stage martial artist.

When Radiant Sun Mountain held its grand ceremony, Cao Ping, the patrolling censor, chose to leave early, sending a clear signal to the guests. Radiant Sun Mountain was not aligned with the Great Li Dynasty.

Therefore, if the Great Li had to choose between Fallen Phoenix Mountain and Radiant Sun Mountain, the censor had already given his answer.

Through the intermediary of Guan Yiran, Chen Ping An and the Pillar State Cao clan had secretly reached an agreement spanning three hundred years. Cao clan scions, talented in the Dao and the martial arts, could come to Fallen Phoenix Mountain to cultivate. And if the Cao clan wished, Chen Ping An would introduce them to sects in other continents. They would only need to present a letter of recommendation from him to travel to the Northern Bulrush Continent’s Tai Wei Sword Sect or the Southern Bhasasa Continent’s Dragon Elephant Sword Sect. Now, there were even more options, including Pushan Cloud Cottage of the Willow Leaf Continent, the Cloud Sky Palace of the Great Origin Dynasty in the Northern Bulrush Continent, and even Qing Tong’s Demon Suppression Tower. So Chen Ping An intended for Cao Yin to speak of these things to his family’s patriarch, Cao Ping.

Cao Ping must have left a way for Cao Yin to contact him, not because Cao Ping particularly valued this branch of the Cao clan, even though Cao Yin was a sword cultivator, to Cao Ping, who had already risen to the pinnacle of military service in the Great Li court, Cao Yin was not particularly valuable. No, by choosing Cao Yin to cultivate at Fallen Phoenix Mountain, Cao Yin’s lineage would rise in status alongside him.

A towering tree has branches that wither and fall away in the storms, while other, slender branches grow strong, stretching out new arms, providing shade for generations. That is ancestral blessing.

Chen Ping An and Zhu Lian reached the mountain house. The gate stood open, and the glint of steel flashed within the courtyard.

Cao Yang practiced a rolling blade technique within the training ground, a technique adapted from the battlefields, passed down through the generations. Strands of hair clung to her forehead, glued in place by sweat.

Stopping at the gate, Zhu Lian chuckled softly. “That little lass is too eager. No matter what stance she takes, or what weapon she wields, she is always practicing the blade. As if when facing an enemy, she only knows how to kill.”

Chen Ping An replied, “What is the point of martial arts without the will to prevail?”

According to Zhu Lian, the greatest difference between martial arts and cultivation was that the latter allowed its prodigies to coast along, their progress smooth, leaping over barriers with flashes of inspiration, their realms soaring upwards. A martial artist had no such luck. The more talented one was, the more one had to suffer. Hasty breakthroughs led to shaky foundations, realms that were true in name only.

Cao Yang saw them standing at the gate and immediately ceased her practice.

A look of panic crossed her face, unsure of what to do.

Old Master Zhu was a frequent guest, a kind and approachable figure.

But the sight of the man in the blue robe filled her with trepidation. She had only met Chen Ping An once since arriving at Fallen Phoenix Mountain. Furthermore, any swordsman who reached the Golden Core realm could be called a Sword Immortal, yet the number of martial artists who had reached the pinnacle could be counted on one hand. A continent like the desolate Aiai continent had only one martial artist at that realm, Pei Axiang of the Thunder God Temple.

And this young mountain lord before her had personally trained an opening disciple who had become a Grandmaster himself.

He had walked upon the Sword Qi Great Wall, serving as the last Hidden Official, guarding the city for years before returning home…

For Cao Yang, these were the deeds of legends.

Her reverence for Chen Ping An was greater than that of Cao Yin.

The girl’s heart was like that of a young scholar reciting his lessons aloud, suddenly finding a great sage standing at the door.

A martial artist who has not yet found their way, in the presence of one who has scaled the mountain and ascended even higher, would naturally regard them as a god.

Zhu Lian was not surprised.

Chen Ping An had once looked at others in this way.

Now, others looked at him.

As if on the winding path of life, each was the scenery for the other.

Chen Ping An stepped across the threshold, smiling as he said, “Cao Yang, when you sheathed your blade, the gathering of your pure true energy seemed flawed. From the Valley Convergence point to the Transverse Pass, the Crooked Pond… the speed was too slow. At the Celestial Palace, you should have paused slightly, to nourish flesh, blood, and bone more fully, like a gentle stream winding around a mountain. From the Spirit Gateway to the Spirit Ruins, and then to the Crouching Rabbit, Beam Hill, and Lower Great Void, there should be an explosive burst of speed, like a waterfall, rushing down. The qi flow should be as fast as possible, creating the impression of a dragon striking a deep pool, sending up a thousand waves. When it lands on the Great Bell point, it should ring like thunder, piercing straight through to the Bubbling Spring. Just now, you pursued stillness with your feet, deliberately drawing a thin line of qi, abandoning the true meaning of the fist. Your stance was stable in appearance only, but the essence was lost. That is too rigid. But if you follow my advice, let true energy surge into the Bubbling Spring point. Strike the Bubbling Spring point as if you are striking a drum, so the qi and blood is roiling, like a stone falling into a lake. Don’t fear the ‘chaos’. Know that this is the true meaning of a martial artist tempering their body. And it is in accord with the Cao family arts. Then, from the cloud of scattered qi that surrounds you, collect yourself and rapidly raise pure true energy, from release to gathering, like a carp leaping through the Dragon Gate, rising step by step, to the Vital Gate, the source of the back’s Four Rivers. Pause for a moment at the back, as if a dragon coiling. Combine the sword art with Cao clan arts, control your qi like a dragon rolling on a wall, like an army charging across a battlefield, gathering momentum before bursting forth. Then, employ your art to change high and low, move front and back. Imagine a warrior with a blade leading a cavalry charge across the plains, striking the solar point, along the divine path, passing the Wind Mansion as if knocking on a door, climbing as if on flat ground, and finally returning to the Hall of Divinity.”

Cao Yang listened, dumbfounded, sweat breaking out on her brow, as if the lesson was more strenuous than the blade practice.

Chen Ping An smiled. “You didn’t remember it? I can say it again.”

Chen Ping An repeated the words, and Cao Yang, holding her breath, remembered every word.

Chen Ping An stood, smiling. “I will demonstrate, slowing down the flow of true energy. You may not be able to sense my qi, but you can grasp the meaning, like an amateur viewing calligraphy. It is difficult to put into words, but you can sense the good and the bad. Later, when you venture out into the world, you will judge the martial artists you see the same way: by seeing the meaning first, and then making sense of it.”

As he spoke, Chen Ping An reached out a hand, as if gripping a blade. He took a step, mirroring Cao Yang’s action of sheathing her blade, with every detail exact.

Cao Yin had also emerged from the house, standing beneath the eaves, not daring to interrupt.

Zhu Lian quietly approached Cao Yin, squatting on the steps. “Don’t blindly imitate. The master has created a path specifically for Cao Yang. The direction of the flow, the speed of the footsteps, all of it is calculated. Cao Yang can grasp it and use it immediately, but if you follow blindly, it will only cause misalignment, and may even damage your organs.”

Cao Yin gave a sheepish grin. No wonder he had felt stifled when he tried to follow Chen Shan Lord’s “guidance.”

Zhu Lian smiled. “If you wish to learn boxing, ask the master.”

“But once you miss the root, the leaves have no chance. Our master rarely teaches. It’s more valuable than gold. You might as well try. After all, the closest well yields the sweetest water.”

Cao Yin shook his head. “One cannot chew more than they can swallow. It is difficult to practice cultivation and martial arts at the same time. I dare not make such a request.”

Watching the man in the blue robe with his serene demeanor, and Cao Yang’s face as it lit up with understanding, and seeing the way he gave his approval with a nod, Cao Yin knew that this was the demeanor of a true master.

Chen Ping An chuckled. “Speaking is of little use. Practicing stances alone is like an old scholar lecturing in his study. There is no real skill to be found there. Without sparring, without real battle, it is all mere embroidery. Even if you learn a thousand techniques, you’ll still fall to a martial artist who has fused three or four principles into a true art. Cao Yang, why don’t we spar a bit?”

Cao Yang’s face flushed red.

She dared not.

Zhu Lian teased, “Little lass, your skin is too thin. If it were Bai Xuan, he would have charged at the mountain lord.”

Cao Yin said through spiritual resonance, “Cao Yang respects Chen Shan Lord greatly. Whenever she speaks of him, she becomes a different person.”

Zhu Lian’s words reached the young man alone. “Rest assured, Cao Yang’s respect is not romantic. The one she favors has not changed in a year.”

Cao Yin had not considered such a thing, but the old cook’s words made his face redden.

Chen Ping An tossed the bundle to Zhu Lian, then reached for a wooden spear from the weapon rack.

His fingers danced, twirling the spear in his palm, before he grasped it tightly. The tip of the spear hummed like a dragon’s roar.

Wearing a long blue robe and cloth shoes, standing in the center of the courtyard, Chen Ping An said, “Allow me to see the foundation of the Cao clan’s martial arts.”

Chen Ping An’s meaning was clear: it did not matter if Cao Yang lost, but she must not bring shame to the Cao clan’s blade.

“We will spar at the same realm.”

Chen Ping An continued, “In martial arts, there is no status, only the height of the art; no age, only the depth of the meaning. Cao Yang, if you fear harming me, you may hold back. I shall thank you for your kindness.”

The girl was speechless.

Cao Yin thought that the man in the blue robe was very different than the friendly man who had chatted with them by the Bamboo Lodge.

Zhu Lian gave a knowing smile.

That’s how it always was, when the master gave instruction. His words were often more powerful than his fists.

Chen Ping An squinted, as if preparing to advance with the spear.

Instantly, Cao Yang stepped back, her eyes fixed on the man whose aura had changed completely, like a towering mountain.

Instinct told her that he could kill her with a single strike, a death of unacknowledged obscurity.

Chen Ping An remained where he was. “Retreat? Where can you retreat to? Why not stand with your back to the wall? Or better yet, break through the wall, turning retreat into escape. Wave your blade a few times, and you can claim to have exchanged blows with me, earning yourself a name.”

His words were understated.

Had Grandmaster Cui said them, he would have said that she was retreating as soon as she faced an enemy, and retreating in spirit. It was better to starve than to pursue this art further, and go beg for scraps, bumping your head on the ground to get any ancestral recognition you can.

Cao Yang gritted her teeth and stepped forward, not charging in a straight line, but moving lightly to the side. Her pure true energy circulated rapidly, bringing her to Chen Ping An’s flank. Her stance was the Cao family’s Snow Dragging Spear stance. The Cao family’s blade technique, coming from the battlefield and drawing on countless sources, did not cling to the technique itself. Cao Yang twisted her wrist, and the light of the blade flashed like snow, striking from the side.

“What is the point of ruthlessness? To waste your strength for nothing.”

Without any visible movement, Chen Ping An thrust the wooden spear into Cao Yang’s forehead. Her head snapped back, and a red welt rose instantly. She slammed her hand on the ground, spinning, thrusting the tip of her blade into the ground repeatedly, sending sparks flying. She steadied herself, circling around him. Again she delivered a slashing blow. The spear met the blade, slamming into her shoulder and sending her spinning. When she recovered, the tip of the unmoving spear was pressed against her neck.

“Facing a strong opponent, a wavering heart leads only to recklessness. Did you already accept defeat, seeking only a quick death?”

Chen Ping An withdrew the spear. “Again.”

No matter how Cao Yang attacked, she could not get close. They maintained a spear’s length of distance.

Chen Ping An swung the spear, striking her in the waist. Cao Yang was lifted into the air, bent like a bow, and struck in the chest with the shaft of the spear, sending her crashing into the wall. She twisted in the air, landing on the wall before pushing off towards him. But he met the blow, gently pushing the tip of her blade away with two fingers, before striking her in the face with his elbow. She fell to the ground, her face covered in blood. But, planting the blade in the ground, she managed to rise again, walking slowly towards the man who was approaching her.

Chen Ping An nodded almost imperceptibly. The old cook was right; the girl could endure hardship and learn quickly. She was already using the qi flow that he had taught her earlier.

This was talent. The master could lead the way, but the student must continue onward. Perseverance would allow her to surpass her teachers.

Chen Ping An walked slowly. “It is easier to lose qi than to gather it. Learning martial arts is a study of the essential, which is in turn a study of being.”

“What kind of person can develop what kind of boxing stance, and create what kind of art? Cao Yang, have you thought about why you are learning martial arts, what art you wish to learn, and what kind of person you wish to become?”

Cao Yang stared, stunned.

Chen Ping An laughed. “Daring to be distracted when facing an enemy?”

She crashed into the wall and slid to the ground, leaning on her blade, attempting to rise in vain, her feet pushing against the ground.

Cao Yang’s vision blurred. She turned her head, hearing the sound of the wall shattering. Had she not dodged, the spear would have pierced her skull.

Zhu Lian soothed the youth beside him. “Don’t worry. The master measures every strike. If instruction only involved techniques and principles, it would be a waste of his time. You cannot understand, because you are on the outside, but Cao Yang is in true agony. Her intuition is being manipulated, to convince her that the slightest mistake will cripple her. Only then is it truly a spar, or else it is merely a light warm-up. And, as the master said, the meaning is too small, because deep down, Cao Yang believes that she cannot be defeated. But the outcome, which seems certain to us, is a matter of life and death to Cao Yang.

“The martial artist’s path is our life journey. Every step is solid. To taste the sweetness, you must first swallow the bitterness. The details of qi flow can be taught, but one’s thoughts and boxing intent can only be refined through endless suffering. One must not even dream of the sweetness to come.”

Zhu Lian chuckled. “I suspect the master will add fuel to the fire.”

As expected, Chen Ping An did not pull the spear out of the wall. “Cao Yang, rest for a moment. You may feel wronged, thinking that I only spout empty words and condescendingly dismiss your efforts because I have learned earlier and reached a higher realm. Very well, I will lower my realm and spar with you as a Third Stage martial artist, using only the basic techniques of the Mountain Shaking Fist. Let’s see how long you can last.”

As long as he wasn’t teaching Pei Qian, even if he spent all day feeding her with fists, and accidentally helped her step into the supreme qi-blossoming realm, Chen Ping An would not find it difficult.

It was truly… only after taking such a good disciple did he realize that teaching was harder than the art itself.

Then, as a Third Stage martial artist, Chen Ping An once again defeated Cao Yang.

The girl kneeled on the ground, leaning on her blade, her head spinning, her vision blurred, blood dripping from her face onto the ground.

Cao Yin asked, “Will Cao Yang be alright?”

It was not a proper question, and could have been interpreted as doubt in the Shan Lord’s instruction, or even his intentions.

But the youth could not hold back the question.

Zhu Lian chuckled. “His strikes are not light, but they are within Cao Yang’s capabilities.”

Cao Ping, as patriarch of the Pillar State Cao clan, was wise to send Cao Yin and Cao Yang to Fallen Phoenix Mountain.

From today onward, these youths would truly catch the eye of his master, who would visit them often.

If the master had not returned so quickly, Zhu Lian would have snatched the disciples away to Immortal Capital Mountain, lest that great white goose bind his master with human sentiments.

If Cui Dongshan succeeded in that scheme, would the master be the lord of Fallen Phoenix Mountain, or Immortal Capital Mountain?

As Cao Yang rose, Chen Ping An said, “Now watch carefully. I will demonstrate this once. Learn as much as you can. This art comes from the Ye clan of Pushan Cloud Cottage in the Willow Leaf Continent, and originates from six immortal paintings: Watching the Waterfall, Performing the Rite, Pounding the Silk, Striking the Zither, High Scholar Walking and Singing, and Scooping the Moon with a Bamboo Basket. The martial arts of Cloud Cottage come from these paintings. When it passed down to the current lord, Ye Yunyun, it had evolved into over sixty stances. It is said, ‘Stances come from the paintings, and punches lead back to the paintings.’ Of these, forty can be shown to outsiders.”

Cao Yang nodded, wiping her face, staring with wide eyes.

It was not as difficult to become a martial artist as it was to climb the mountain as a cultivator, but it could not be learned by merely studying a few manuals. The key was to become a pure martial artist, not merely a fighter in name only. To gather a wisp of pure true energy was as different as heaven and earth. To merge that energy with the fist was another difference entirely.

Chen Ping An paused at the last stance. “Did you remember them all?”

Cao Yang took a deep breath. “I remembered them all!”

Zhu Lian started to rise, but sat back down.

The master did not intend to finish there. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and said, “I will teach you another art, with no names for its stances. It comes from the Sword Qi Great Wall, from a great female grandmaster, who is also my elder.”

There might be countless cultivators whom the master calls his elders, but few were viewed with true sincerity.

Chen Ping An performed a set of boxing, then performed it again, even more slowly.

The stance and the movement were restrained, but the punches were fast and without any artifice. Cao Yang could tell that this art was particularly suited for female martial artists.

Chen Ping An smiled. “The two spars are for you to consider. It was inevitable that you would lose, so don’t think too much. But it is also possible for you to win in the future, so you must think deeply.”

“Cao Yang, I cannot meddle with other martial artists, but since you have come to Fallen Phoenix Mountain, I must remind you: learn to save yourself, then you will have the right to defeat or kill others.”

Cao Yang clasped her hands together. “I will remember your teachings!”

Today’s teaching was only reserved for direct disciples.

To teach face to face, to pass on the secrets of the heart, that was a true disciple!

Chen Ping An smiled. “Go wash the blood off your face. You’re frightening.”

Cao Yang excused herself and went to the dwelling behind the house.

Cao Yin sighed. The man who did not teach was the Chen Shan Lord that he remembered.

Zhu Lian retrieved the spear and returned it to the weapon rack.

Cao Yang returned, and then the group drank tea in the side hall. Zhu Lian took care of everything.

Chen Ping An, as if addicted to teaching, took out a scroll from his sleeve, and spread it out on the desk, calling the youth to view the genuine calligraphy by the head of the Tianshui Zhao clan, far longer than the desk, spanning three zhang in length. Chen Ping An and Zhu Lian had to hold it up.

The words were large, starting with: “In the sixth year of Yuanjia, the floods in the bitter cold lands receded. I saw a lone boat, with a green-clad man gracefully crossing the river.” It ended with: “He laughed as he crossed the river, holding a candle to return home at night.”

The words were like spears and halberds, an imposing aura.

Chen Ping An explained. “Cao Yang, boxing intent does not only come from day in and day out practice. The best art comes from outside the manual. The former teaches us a solid foundation. The latter teaches us to stand tall and alone on the path of martial arts. Just like this calligraphy. The scholars look at the brushstrokes and copy the words. But we martial artists can see more, and even create new techniques. Soon, I will teach you this fist. Then, you will know that I speak the truth.”

Zhu Lian helped roll up the scroll. Chen Ping An smiled. “I am also showing off my collection.”

The youth looked at each other.

Zhu Lian tied the scroll and handed it to Chen Ping An. “It is easy to have a rich collection, as long as you have money. But to have a fine collection, to overwhelm your peers, to leave them far behind, that requires taste.”

Chen Ping An smiled. The old cook spoke the truth.

When Pei Qian was young, she complained to Old Wei. The little charcoal face had despaired: “I can’t learn Old Cook’s fawning.”

Old Wei nodded. “Some people’s skills were born, not made.”

Wei Xian added, “For example, your reading of faces, and my tolerance of alcohol.”

As they sat down, Chen Ping An drank a cup of tea and asked, “Cao Yin, have you encountered any difficulties in your cultivation?”

“Not yet.” Cao Yin shook his head. With the three manuals from Immortal Cui leading the way, even a fool would progress gradually.

Chen Ping An said, “If you encounter any problems, go ask Cui Dongshan. Although I am a sword cultivator, I cannot match him in teaching. Go to the Sword Chamber on Radiant Sprout Peak, and send a message to Immortal Capital Mountain in the Willow Leaf Continent. Don’t worry about bothering him. I will speak with him beforehand. If you do not ask, you are letting a chance go to waste.”

Cao Yin rose and bowed his thanks, and Cao Yang followed.

Chen Ping An nodded and prepared to leave. But Cao Yin spoke. “Chen Shan Lord, may I speak of my cultivation, and then ask you a question?”

Chen Ping An smiled. “Of course.”

Zhu Lian refilled their cups.

Cao Yin began, “I feel that the Dao of a cultivator, and even the martial arts, are nothing but a series of calculations.”

Chen Ping An smiled. “You say that the Dao is like an empty house, principles its pillars. But give me an example.”

Cao Yin gave the example of breaking down the martial artist’s training of their body into flesh, blood, tendons, and bones. It was evident that Cao Yin, as a talented sword cultivator, did not worry about his own path, but instead worried about Cao Yang’s.

Zhu Lian merely smiled.

It was easy for childhood sweethearts to become strangers in the future.

Because the youth read too fast.

And the girl liked to dog-ear the pages.

Chen Ping An listened carefully. “That is a good example.”

Cao Yin said, “Perhaps only those of poor quality would need to break things down like this.”

Chen Ping An was about to praise him, agreeing with his insights.

But Cao Yin’s words stopped him.

There was nothing wrong with Cao Yin’s views; in fact, they were insightful.

Cao Yin was a genius.

But there were a small number of geniuses, such as Ning Yao, Cao Ci, Pei Qian, and Chai Wu.

Chen Ping An asked, “Are you familiar with Buddhist texts?”

Cao Yin replied, “I have read some, but not many.”

Chen Ping An asked a question, “What do you think of the Northern and Southern schools of Zen Buddhism?”

Cao Yin was flustered. He would not dare to comment on such a momentous division of Buddhism, one that he had never considered.

Chen Ping An continued, “Can one truly attain Buddhahood immediately? And once one attains enlightenment, how does one remain in that state?”

Cao Yin seemed to understand, but the words were his enemy.

Chen Ping An smiled. “Think about it slowly.”

Chen Ping An drank his tea. “What question did you want to ask?”

Cao Yin gathered his courage and asked, “What is your daily schedule? Can you tell me in detail? I want to copy it, and learn as much as I can.”

Seeing someone’s life was like viewing a map. The marked mountains were famous, but unrelated to oneself.

But approaching those landmarks was different. It was like standing in the distance and looking at Fallen Phoenix Mountain; one did not realize how high it was.

But as one approached, one looked up to see the soaring peak.

But, after entering the mountain, the scenery seemed different.

Zhu Lian was shocked, and coughed to remind him that his question was not appropriate.

Chen Ping An shook his head and smiled. “You cannot learn it. There are too many factors involved. Everything depends on the person, the time, and the place. Different sects and teachers have different methods. Breathing techniques vary. One’s natal objects are different, the changes of day and night. Cultivators of fire and water have different routines and locations.”

That was why it was so difficult to find a teacher, which helped one through the bottlenecks. It was said that choosing a master was like being reborn.

They could save you from many detours and hardships. Do you think the independent cultivators are as tough as they are willing to be?

Although he told the youth that he could not learn it, Chen Ping An still considered it carefully. That opening remark made Zhu Lian realize that the trip had been worthwhile.

“When I left home as a youth, I was always rushing. I had to keep walking. I had to practice boxing non-stop to keep myself alive. Every step had to be adjusted to my breathing. Whenever I stopped to rest, I would practice the Sword Furnace stance of the Mountain Shaking Fist, and before sleeping, I would practice the Thousand Autumns Sleeping Stance, in the hopes that boxing intent would come, more and more. One thousand, ten thousand, one hundred thousand, one million punches. I believed that when boxing intent came, I would be touched by the divine. I believed it even if I didn’t. Like calligraphy, when the divine assists your hand, flights of fancy occur. I read books and took notes, believing that a bad pen is better than a good memory. The second time I was at the Great Wall, in that Summer Palace, there were few opportunities to cultivate in peace. The only time I had a routine that resembled that of a cultivator was when I was in Immortal Capital Mountain. That is why I say that you cannot learn my routine. But then again, if you break your cultivation into the smallest details – breathing, walking, sleeping – then there is no problem. In the end, all methods are no methods, yet all methods are in one method.”

Cao Yin smiled brightly. “I understand!”

When a cultivator reaches a certain stage, they will find themselves with nothing to do.

Now, the youth felt like he had many things that he could