The ale flowed freely amongst kindred spirits, yet words fell heavy when minds clashed. Little mattered the company of Serpentine Xie or Bai Jing, for conversation proved barren. After a flagon emptied, Chen Ping’an, seized by sudden whim, announced his departure for the Northern Peak Mountain Lord’s demesne. The sable-hatted lass, Xie, chased after him, pleading for return to the Forsaken Mountain. This endless exile weighed heavy, especially upon Xiao Mo’s cultivation. His swordsmanship, already inferior to her own, would stagnate further. She, with ale-fired breath and weapon in hand, could hone her skills at any moment. Her ascension toward the heavens, already near, would only be hastened, widening the gap and shaming Xiao Mo. Shame bred resentment, further alienating him. Alas, the vanity that plagued mortal men!

Chen Ping’an, patience thinning, found himself weary of her incessant chatter. Yet, with the fervor in Serpentine Xie’s eyes, he knew she would trail him to the very slopes of Crested Cloud Mountain should her plea remain unanswered. He stood by the travelers’ rest, demanding a reason to be swayed. Xie swore, if returned to the mountain, she would walk with the caution of a dragon caught in a trap, tail tucked low like the Left Protector of Dragon Riding Alley. She would even swear it upon the name of the venerable Bai Ze, a vow not easily broken. Chen Ping’an inquired of her affairs with the Lucky Coin Shop, her partnership with Zhou Junchen barely begun, now abandoned? Xie countered that she would not neglect it entirely, visiting the shop betwixt moons. But trade proved treacherous, what with Fortune Lane and Peach Leaf Alley dispatching agents to thwart her every move, a constant battle of wits.

Irritation flickered in Chen Ping’an’s eyes. What sort of merchant was she, posting notices upon doorposts in the very heart of the New Year season? At least she possessed the decency to spare the visage of the door gods! Xie feigned offense, claiming she had consulted each deity beforehand. She swore no sorcery of mountain descent was employed, only amicable negotiation. The gods themselves, she insisted, found no fault in her actions, remaining ever so amiable.

Speechless, Chen Ping’an gazed upon the pouting, sable-clad girl. “Return then, return,” he sighed. “But hold thy tongue once upon the Forsaken Mountain, lest thou be cast out once more, beyond rescue.”

Thereupon, Chen Ping’an wove the spell of distance shortening, cloaking his presence, and descended to the base of Crested Cloud Mountain. As the site of the Northern Peak Shrine, Crested Cloud Mountain drew countless pilgrims, though few ever laid eyes upon the fabled Mountain Lord, Wei Bo, within his hallowed domain.

Serpentine Xie, emboldened by her obtained permission, teetered back toward the Forsaken Mountain, cheeks flushed with victory. Within those boundaries, even Chen Ping’an’s errant winds were deemed fragrant, heralded by an army of bootlicking sycophants. Small wonder she struggled to find her place amongst them.

The sable-hatted girl, quite suddenly, had forgotten her previous obsequious gestures towards mountain authority, hollering oaths of fidelity with every step.

The mountain gates bustled with life. Immortal Wei and Zhou Mi Li sat at a table, steeping tea, while nearby, the Left Protector of Dragon Riding Alley lay sprawled, a picture of contentment.

Even Cen Yuanji, rare in her leisure, paused from her martial drills, gracing the scene with her presence. A crimson-clad acolyte from the state temple, drawn not by duty, but by the desire to bask in Chen Ping’an’s ethereal glow, watched from afar, content with a mere glimpse.

A white-blossomed serpent, the acolyte’s mount, coiled gently beneath the table, its scales gleaming in the afternoon light.

All were gathered to hear Immortal Wei’s soaring tales.

Immortal Wei, casting a sidelong glance at the earth-colored hound, recalled his initial pity, mistaking it for a stray in search of sustenance. He had even procured scraps of fowl, fish, and bone from the elder cook. Yet when the hound had raised its gaze, Immortal Wei beheld in its eyes a well of complex emotions – grief, disdain, melancholy, pity…

Such was Immortal Wei’s astonishment! Was he, a venerable immortal, being scorned by a mere mutt?

Then, he learned the truth – it was the infamous Left Protector of Dragon Riding Alley.

Mistakes, all mistakes. Kindness, misplaced yet well-intentioned.

Furthermore, a wandering guest had arrived, a middle-aged Daoist clad in white, hair bound high, carrying a fly whisk, a sword upon his back, and a gourd at his hip.

Zhou Mi Li and Immortal Wei recognized the figure, having each encountered him before. Zhou Mi Li remembered him from the Green Shirt Ferry of Immortal Capital Mountain, where the Daoist, introducing himself as Lü, the Pure Yang, had regaled her with stories.

Immortal Wei recalled Lü Yan’s visit to the Forsaken Mountain. He had stopped only at the gates, sharing a bowl of steaming tea. A friendship was quickly kindled, and Immortal Wei boasted of his magical prowess, claiming it surpassed even the mountain itself. He had even offered Lü Yan a position as guest elder of the Forsaken Mountain, promising an introduction to Chen Ping’an. Immortal Wei, of course, had been deliberately vague as to the precise nature of the position. After all, one must leave room for maneuvering, lest one become like Chen Lingjun, speaking with a bluntness that, while satisfying, could lead to indigestion. A bowl of plain rice porridge, soothing and nourishing, was far superior.

Lü Yan, upon his travels, wandered the ancient Shu lands, exploring ruins of long-lost Dragon Palaces, untouched by the Great Li Dynasty. For a practitioner of his caliber, it was a mere exercise in contemplation. He visited ruined halls, the air heavy with desolation, a testament to the fleeting nature of existence.

He wandered by the Yellow Court Kingdom, visited the Cold Meal River, and in the Cao Clan’s Orchid Pavilion, perused ancient books, finding solace in their familiar company. Ancient texts, like the tides, perpetually ebb and flow. He passed White Swan River, the Purple Sun Prefecture, and through Red Candle Town, along a winding path, crossed the Chess Mound Mountain, arriving at the Forsaken Mountain. Lü Yan beheld the lively gathering at the gates, nodding with a smile. Such a sight was rarely seen within the boundaries of a true immortal dwelling.

The path of cultivation was marked by countless milestones, each step fostering pride and trepidation within the human heart.

For a mountain sect to produce even a handful of those whose hearts were stilled was challenging but not unheard of. Yet for a group of souls to hold but a single intention was a wondrous thing indeed.

Lü Yan had come with a request, a trial in the mortal realm for which he required Chen Ping’an’s aid as a protector.

A protector of high rank was not required.

Furthermore, the Sage himself had endorsed Chen Ping’an.

The black-clad girl had told him the master had gone down to town.

Really, to look over the books at the Dragon Riding Alley shop.

Mi Li asked earnestly, “Does the Pure Yang Immortal need to see the master right away?”

If it were urgent, she could whisper three times the name of the Northern Peak Mountain Lord, and as if knocking upon a door, the summons would be heard, and she could speak to the master then and there.

Lü Yan answered with a smile, “No urgency, young one. I will wait here until Chen Ping’an returns.”

Besides tea and melon seeds, there were two bags of dried stream fish Mi Li had taken from the cotton sack.

Last time at Green Shirt Ferry, Mi Li had been loathe to part with her fish. Now she could make amends.

After that day, Zhou Mi Li formed the habit of always packing two bags of the dried fish, which she called “ancestral shrine,” as she went out, just in case.

Xie now felt secure.

Upon seeing the young Daoist with the wooden hairpin, whose true name was Nian Jing, and Daoist title, Immortal Wei, she was filled with confidence. It had been a long time since she’d been able to scoop up such treasures from off the street. “Who can I possibly meet in this old land?” she thought. “I already met the first Daoist of the human world!” She couldn’t have such luck again, could she?

Even the north, broad as it was, had only produced the Fire Dragon Perfected One, and he was not worth her time.

As for the south, what did she care for the Jade Gilt Sect swordsman? Or the Zhenyao Pagoda’s paulownia? Or the myriad beauties of the Three Mountain Blessed Land?

Then Xie got closer to the mountain gate, and she looked to the Daoist with his long beard…

He looked like he had no energy!

He filled Xie with the sense that some disaster was about to strike.

She’d only felt this way a few times. Once, when she was still close with Xiao Mo, she thought he would draw all his power, all his swords. And when she followed him to the fallen treasure beach and the Jade Empyrean lord emerged, counseling her to go no further, to stay, and to leave her feet if she went beyond, and her swords if she went beyond.

That ancient fool was stuck in her craw!

She couldn’t believe it.

How could so small a place hold so many powerful figures?

Xie narrowed her eyes and slowed her pace. It seemed like she was approaching a dragon’s den.

Seeing the thin, sable-hatted girl, the red-clad acolyte stood on the table and called out, “Lil’ Xie’s back, eh? Immortal Wei was just telling us you were making money on Dragon Riding Alley.”

Xie gave a nod and a smile. “I was just chatting with Sister Cen.”

She thought those simpletons easy to trick, unlike the little temple official, who was too clever for his own good.

Then she looked at the black-clad girl, who was now the mountain’s protector, a cave dweller. The girl’s job was to keep the peace, even when the white-haired kid wanted to team up with her.

Xie used to just pat this girl on the head and give her a shake. But times had changed. She smiled and said, “It’s the famous right-protector! I am Xie Gou, Xiao Mo’s betrothed!”

Immortal Wei choked on his tea, and had to clean up the mess.

Zhou Mi Li opened her eyes. Had Xiao Mo really found a partner?

Xie finally turned to the Daoist. “And what does this old gentleman do?”

Lü Yan replied with a smile, “I am a traveler of all the lands.”

Xie responded, “With your skill, you could have three or five clans devoted to you.”

Lü Yan replied, “You honor me too much. I cannot compare myself with Master Yu Xuan.”

Immortal Wei was starting to get offended. It was one thing to be a flatterer, but to claim that one’s skills were equal to the master or sage was too much! All that time locked away in the shop on Dragon Riding Alley had been wasted. Had Old Jia been here, she wouldn’t have made such impudent statements.

Xie sat down on the bench. “You may carry on. Act as if I’m not here.”

Zhou Mi Li picked up her cup and took a sip, smiling. “The Pure Yang Daoist helped each of us by placing leaves of argy wormwood in our tea. He said that it would drive the cold and raise our energy.”

Xie leaned over and peered at the girl’s three leaves. Those were heated by the true fire of the sun! “You practice ancient ways? It seems you have a long history.”

Xie had traveled the north and seen it all. She knew of moon worship, the snatching of stars, and the few who could work the sun. And she had taken a close look at the leaves; she could see them as mountain peaks. She knew a little more than those on the outside. It was possible that this Daoist was one who could travel to the Fiery Palace itself.

Was she standing among comrades?

Lü Yan just smiled.

Xie asked, “You’re also a swordsman?”

Lü Yan answered, “I have a little skill, but I suppose I am.”

Xie continued, “What are your views on cultivation?”

She didn’t expect an answer, but he gave one. The Daoist said with a smile, “The ancients created the law: One must use fire for food, to support the lives of the myriad creatures. One must follow the water for dwelling, to support the spirits.”

Lü Yan pointed to the sun. “I see the treasure in the heavens, visible to all but known by few, which is that suspended sun.”

He took a breath, expelling his qi. The white mist looked like clouds, with a single red thread floating among them, as a tiny dragon traveled among clouds, performing rituals. “Man’s greatest treasure, though invisible, can be grasped. This qi of true yang, which is pure and potent, grows with the body to make us who we are. Thus, purity is the key to immortality. And one must be halfway between, to become an immortal. It is about spirit. Fire is yang. Fire is the body’s most precious treasure.”

Xie answered with a laugh, “Sounds good, but it’s not quite concrete enough.”

Lü Yan said, “It’s just like this Sister Cen, who does not practice Qi but has mastered martial arts. It is very like the ancient practices of the sages. The body is tempered with a pure Qi. Qi flows through the body as rivers flow. And it is clear she has a skilled master with profound knowledge, teaching her in new ways. Four streams of true energy, flowing through winter and summer, never harming her physical body or soul. She has a solid base and a spirit nourished by skill. Her true skill exceeds that of most mortals.”

Cen Yuanji was in a daze. Master Zhu had taught her four pathways of Qi, but she never had the chance to understand the true meaning.

Was she so slow because she assumed she was stupid? Had Master Zhu just been flattering her when he said she had such natural skill?

Xie laughed. “You’re good.”

Lü Yan smiled.

Xie didn’t know that this wandering Immortal was regarded as one of the Ten Under Heavens by the Sage.

Chen Ping’an did not follow the road to the top of the mountain. He went on foot to one of the smaller peaks, blending in with the scholars on the way to the temple.

There were many temples and towers along the way. The Great Li had even selected six mountains and ten towers for the nation, including the temple on Crested Cloud Mountain, built by the emperor and given a name by his very hand, along with purple robes for the monks and the right to copy sutras in gold.

Halfway up the mountain was a tea shop with a signboard that read “Sea and Sky Without End.” Chen Ping’an looked around as he settled in to rest.

Wei Bo had joined him there, using magic so that only Chen Ping’an knew who he was.

The master was like a golden figure, akin to an immortal.

And the whole mountain was under Wei Bo’s control, like an immortal.

Chen Ping’an drank his tea and paid the bill. Wei Bo asked, “Why is Xiao Mo not here? You are preventing them from joining. It does not seem right.”

Chen Ping’an replied, “When will the Mountain Lord throw his nightly banquet? I’ve never had a chance to drink. A regret I hope to correct!”

Wei Bo sighed.

In truth, Chen Ping’an had not met any of the thirty-odd water spirits of the mountain.

“Now, the Forsaken Mountain will have its own lineage. If you go to the North and get one more, the Forsaken Mountain and Green Summit Sword Sect will be promoted.”

“It would be nice to think so.”

“And when the soothsayers come to make their list, you will surely be on it.”

“You say ‘you,’ as if I’m not a part of it.”

Chen Ping’an laughed. “There’s movement on the Great Dredge of Tongye. I’ll let Green Summit help you along, and get you 1400 to 1800 sacks of grain. If you need me to cover it, I can.”

Generally speaking, the process of taking part in the Dredge was about making money. Men like Zhang Zhi had done well. But spirits like the Zhenyao Pagoda, which was tied to the world’s fortunes, were rare exceptions. For the spirit world, it was a very safe bet.

Wei Bo nodded. “I can offer 2000, making it a nice round number.”

Chen Ping’an stared in surprise. “You have 2000 sacks of grain, no problem? Your treasures must be like mountains! Take me around and show me.”

Wei Bo grimaced. “It’s ‘you,’ not ‘we.'”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “The water sleeps and the sun sets, and you awaken the sound of pines. Let me rest my ears and ponder it a moment.”

Wei Bo replied, “The songs you write are already famous enough.”

“But you can’t deny it fits the moment.”

Wei Bo frowned.

Chen Ping’an asked, “What’s wrong?”

Wei Bo answered, “A wandering Daoist has come to your mountain, and I cannot see their origins, but they saw me. They sensed me.”

The tea started to ripple, creating a reflection of the mountain gate, the table, and the Daoist. Then the image faded.

Chen Ping’an saw it and smiled. “That’s not surprising. His name is Lü Yan. He’s a true spirit. If he doesn’t want to be seen, he won’t be. Not just by me or you, but maybe even the Mountain God.”

Wei Bo replied, “Pure Yang? That’s a powerful title.”

Wei Bo thought to himself. “Were there some ties between this Daoist and those who once threw wine into the river to turn it into white swans in Yellow Court Kingdom?”

Chen Ping’an nodded. “Yes, it was this Pure Yang and the Elder Cheng, who got drunk and inspired the river spirits.”

Wei Bo was ready to say more.

Chen Ping’an shook his head.

There was much to tell about this figure who roamed the world.

Like the story about the empress from the Fire Temple, and how she branded a dragon on her head.

And how a lord of the Former Ages helped a maiden from the Hundred Blossoms fend off a dragon.

The world relied on the hand of this one.

Wei Bo changed the subject. “How do you plan to deal with this shapeshifter, Xie?”

Wei Bo shuddered to think of a skilled swordsman lurking in the Northern peaks.

He hadn’t even told his officers, so that they would not be afraid.

Chen Ping’an made his excuses. “She’s close to Xiao Mo. Complain to him.”

Wei Bo responded, “I was wrong to count. The mountain is running low on funds, and I need to save all I can. Will you lend me the 2000 sacks?”

Chen Ping’an had to promise, “I will keep her in line. Any problems, just come to me.”

Wei Bo asked, “Now that the Pure Yang has revealed himself, why don’t you go out and greet him?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “There’s no rush. Let me drink my tea with the Mountain Lord. We have to stay connected.”

And that’s how he sounded so confident.

With Mi Li on hand, he did not need to show himself. It wasn’t necessary.

For a guest who was not immortal, his mountain would not even bother bringing out the Right Protector.

But if it were Chen Lingjun, he’d be racing to the gate.

Chen Ping’an finished his tea and departed, asking Wei Bo to stay behind.

When Chen Ping’an reached the mountain gate, Lü Yan rose to greet him. “Apologies for the disturbance.”

They climbed the mountain together, step by step, until they reached the peak.

Lü Yan came to the point: “I have a request for you.”

Chen Ping’an replied at once. “I also have a request.”

Lü Yan laughed. “You go first.”

Chen Ping’an came to the point, “I’m going to need a fire talisman of yours, the higher grade, the better.”

Lü Yan’s eyes twinkled. “You’re going to use it to move the water?”

Chen Ping’an hesitated a moment and said, “It is for the plum tree in Yellow Court Kingdom. Did you have something to do with it?”

Lü Yan stroked his beard and replied, “I once drew on the timbers of the building to protect the books, but it was not yet the Yellow Court Kingdom. It happened by chance.”

Chen Ping’an bowed.

Lü Yan waved his hand. “That is not necessary.

Lü Yan asked, “It will not be easy to move the water. The fire and water will conflict. Do you have a plan?”

Chen Ping’an nodded, and suddenly Lü Yan was surrounded by a swirling river of light, made by Chen Ping’an’s swords. The walls were built of texts and words.

Lü Yan said, “Your foundation is good. It is enough to support that tree. That talisman will not be very effective.”

Seeing Chen Ping’an’s hesitation, Lü Yan laughed. “I came here to ask for your help. I would never be so stingy as to refuse you a talisman.”

Chen Ping’an asked out of curiosity, “What is it you seek of me?”

Lü Yan answered, “I need a protector.”

Chen Ping’an was puzzled. “With my limited skill? Can I possibly perform the task?”

Lü Yan nodded. “I am not worried about that. I only fear that you will be so thorough as a protector that there will be nothing left for me to do.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Can you be more specific?”

Lü Yan smiled. “There is no rush. The time is not yet right.”

Chen Ping’an reclaimed his swords. Lü Yan brought out two talismans.

Chen Ping’an said, “One will be enough.”

Lü Yan smiled. “Consider it a good fortune. The fire talisman is for the plum, and the water talisman is for the Right Protector.”

He had seen her clinging to the thread of her sack at the Green Summit.

Chen Ping’an discussed some methods of practice with Lü Yan.

The hoarfrost cleared, and the mountains laughed. On the peaks, a wind swept by.