In the night, when Chen Ping'an had fled toward the deep mountains, he had run wildly. Before long, he entered a bamboo forest where the soil was exceptionally soft, and the straw-sandaled youth deliberately started making heavier footsteps.
After about half an incense stick's time, just as he was about to reach the forest's edge, the youth suddenly climbed a bamboo stalk on his left and swung to another not far away—more like an ape than the mountain-moving ape of Zhengyang Mountain. After repeating this several times, he finally landed lightly, crouched, and wiped away his footprints with his hand. He turned to look—about five or six zhang from the first bamboo—then continued running.
In less than an incense stick's time, the sound of the stream could already be faintly heard. The sprinting youth didn't slow down; instead, he leaped high and plunged into the stream. Soon he stood up—he had landed on a massive boulder. This youth, intimately familiar with every inch of this land, strained his eyes wide, relying on his exceptional vision and outstanding memory to leap from stone to stone in the stream, fleeing downstream. If he kept this up, he would reach the Green Ox Back on the stream's southern bank, then the covered bridge, and finally Master Ruan's blacksmith shop.
But the youth didn't approach the Green Ox Back too closely. Instead, when the stream emerged from the mountains at its narrowest point—like a woman's waist—he climbed ashore on the right.
Soon a woman's soft voice called, "Chen Ping'an, over here."
Chen Ping'an quickly crouched, panting, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
The black-clad girl asked in a low voice, "Could you really lure the old ape into the mountains?"
The youth said bitterly, "I tried my best."
It was Ning Yao, who had also taken a circuitous route from Fortune Street to meet up. She asked, "Are you hurt?"
The straw-sandaled youth shook his head. "Minor wounds."
The girl's emotions were complex. She said angrily, "To dare play like this—if the old ape hadn't killed you, it's your damn luck!"
Chen Ping'an grinned. "That old beast already broke the rules once. But if you had intervened a bit later, I think I would've been done for."
The girl was stunned, then laughed happily. "It actually worked? Not bad, Chen Ping'an!"
Chen Ping'an chuckled.
Ning Yao rolled her eyes and asked, "What next?"
The straw-sandaled youth thought. "The general plan we set before hasn't changed, but some details need adjusting. That old ape is too formidable."
Ning Yao slapped the straw-sandaled youth on the head, half-annoyed, half-amused. "You're only realizing that now?"
Chen Ping'an suddenly said, "Miss Ning, turn around. I need to apply some medicine to my back. And keep an eye on the stream for me."
The girl turned around matter-of-factly, facing upstream.
Chen Ping'an took off the outer robe that belonged to Liu Xianyang, removed the wood-and-porcelain armor, and from a cloth pouch at his waist, took out a porcelain bottle from the Yang family shop. He poured out some thick ointment into his right palm, lifted his robe with his left hand, and smeared it across his back with his right.
Even the pain-tolerant youth couldn't help breaking into a cold sweat.
Though the girl didn't turn, she asked, "Does it hurt a lot?"
The youth laughed. "This is nothing."
The girl pouted—why bother acting tough?
---
In the westernmost house of the town, a woman sat on the ground, wailing loudly, beating her chest, swaying back and forth as if her thin clothes might burst at any moment. Her two young children, dirty all over, stood helplessly by their mother. A simple-minded man squatted outside the house, sighing with a face full of helplessness. The roof had inexplicably acquired a hole, and though the spring chill hadn't fully receded, he could endure it—but how would his wife and children cope?
Nearby neighbors gathered, pointing and whispering. Some said they had also heard noises from their own roofs and initially thought it was stray cats causing trouble, so they hadn't paid attention. Others said the western part of the town had been unsettled today—some children had seen an old immortal in white robes floating about, taking a single step that covered over a dozen normal paces, leaping over walls and walking on rooftops. Was it the Earth God escaping his shrine, or a mountain spirit leaving its mountain?
A young sword cultivator from the Wind Thunder Garden crouched alone nearby, his expression grave.
Liu Baqiao had been chatting with Mr. Cui at the superintendent's office when he heard about the disturbance at the Li family mansion. Sensing an opportunity, this prodigy of the Wind Thunder Garden, however arrogant, didn't dare provoke a mountain-moving ape head-on. He had been thinking about watching the battle from a safe distance and perhaps striking a sneak blow at the old ape if the chance arose—that would be most satisfying. So Liu Baqiao had crept to the upturned eaves of a mansion's library tower, overlooking the town, searching for the old ape's movements. He quickly noticed the unusual activity near Clay Bottle Lane in the west, and being naturally bold, he had started tailing them.
The moment the Zhengyang Mountain's guardian ape forcefully circulated its vital energy, Liu Baqiao was injured. His life-bound flying sword, forced to rest and recuperate in his Mingtang acupoint, stirred restlessly, nearly "unsheathing" itself. Because in this peculiar realm, cultivation level was directly proportional to the suppression of heavenly law. According to Liu Baqiao's estimation, the guardian ape wasn't at ease either—even if it could forcibly circulate energy and afterward use its formidable physique or supreme divine abilities to suppress the boiling sea of qi caused by heavenly law, the number of such "cheating" attempts couldn't be many, or it risked the catastrophic consequence of a dam breaking, potentially destroying its cultivation of a thousand years. To put it another way, each time it acted as a "celestial being" from outside this realm was already a form of degradation—equivalent to a mortal losing lifespan.
But when Liu Baqiao saw the two large craters where the old ape had landed after crushing the roof, this Wind Thunder Garden sword prodigy was grateful he hadn't acted rashly. Otherwise, he would have brought the fire upon himself. With the depth of the old ape's fresh vital energy at that moment, if not for discovering the disturbance at the Li family mansion and having to confirm the safety of the Zhengyang Mountain girl, the chase after the cunning fox-like straw-sandaled youth might not have been certain—but hunting him, Liu Baqiao, would have been a guaranteed kill.
Of course, the old ape wasn't blind or stupid. When Liu Baqiao's flying sword was about to emerge, the guardian ape had surely detected his presence.
Yet after narrowly escaping the gates of death, Liu Baqiao felt lingering fear—but regarding the old ape's existence itself, he wasn't particularly afraid. The Wind Thunder Garden against Zhengyang Mountain: regardless of the disparity in strength, if one side didn't attack, fine—but once one chose to strike, it meant a fight to the death. And the weaker party would never kneel and beg for mercy. This was a fact proven by five hundred years of countless lives between these two sword sanctuaries of the East Treasure Bottle Continent.
Moreover, Liu Baqiao had his own backup in the town.
Liu Baqiao slowly stood up, not returning to the office but heading toward the dilapidated house at the westernmost end. Standing outside the low yellow mud wall, he called out loudly. After the man and his wife both turned to look at him, he casually tossed a gold essence copper coin to the teary woman and said with a smile, "Big sister, please stop wailing. Even from that far away, it's giving me chills!"
The woman caught the golden coin, glanced at its design—it looked similar to regular copper coins but different in color—and asked dazedly, "Gold?"
Liu Baqiao laughed. "No. But it's worth much more than gold..."
The woman was stunned, then furious. She hurled the golden coin at the young man from out of town, stood up with hands on hips, and cursed, "Get lost! If it were gold, I might believe you, but more valuable than gold? Do you think I've never seen the world? I've handled silver with my own hands! You little brat who hasn't even grown proper hair—didn't you even check the tiny loach in your own pants before coming here to play the big shot? My husband isn't even dead yet!"
At this, the woman grew even angrier. She strode forward, and despite her thick waist—which wasn't much slimmer than a bucket—she twisted it with surprising charm. She kicked the man squatting silently on the ground, sending him tumbling sideways. The man didn't dare fight back or even retort, scrambling away on all fours to squat at a distance, looking wronged.
The woman pointed at her husband and cursed, "You spineless coward—you're no different from being dead! When something happens, you just play dead. All day long you wander around catching fish and snakes, no better than a child in open-crotch trousers—worse than our son! At least little Huai knows to steal... bring things home. You, a grown father, why won't you work at the Yang family shop? Are you rolling in money or what? Why must you fight against silver? Year after year, you don't do a single decent thing..."
At this point, the woman, whose chest was impressive enough to be called "spectacular," suddenly smiled. "If you weren't still... lively in the evenings, do you think I'd bother living with you?!"
The watching neighbors erupted in laughter, with some young men wolf-whistling and making crude remarks.
The woman finally turned her fury back on the main culprit and roared, "Still here? Haven't you been weaned?!"
Liu Baqiao had never experienced such rustic vulgarity. Far from finding it distasteful, he found it quite entertaining. He watched this lively scene with great interest, and even though the woman was scolding him severely, he wasn't angry but amused. After every quarrel at the Wind Thunder Garden, he always felt a sense of loneliness—like possessing great martial skill but having no worthy opponent. He hadn't expected to finally find a use for it today, so he got excited. Grinning cheekily, he said, "Not weaned? So what? Big sister, you want to help?"
The woman raised an eyebrow, sneering, "I'm afraid I'd accidentally suffocate you. You! Go find Old Granny Ma from Apricot Blossom Lane! She'll fill you up!"
Laughter thundered around them.
Though Liu Baqiao didn't know who Old Granny Ma was, the reactions of the surrounding audience told him he had suffered a crushing defeat.
The young sword cultivator held up his thumb, smiling brightly. "Big sister, I concede."
Then he held the gold essence copper coin between two fingers and shook it. "You really don't want it?"
The woman hesitated, clearly tempted.
Just then, someone called from a distance with a helpless tone, "Baqiao, Mr. Cui wants you back immediately."
Liu Baqiao turned to look. It was Chen Songfeng, a disciple of the Chen family of Dragon Tail Commandery, with a tall, stern-looking woman beside him. She carried nothing in her hands—no weapons. Her appearance was unremarkable, but her figure was flawless, with long legs that particularly appealed to Liu Baqiao's taste. She was Chen Songfeng's distant relative—though how distant, Chen Songfeng hadn't volunteered. The woman addressed Chen Songfeng by name, and during their travels together, Liu Baqiao hadn't found her particularly arrogant—just naturally cold.
Since it was Cui Minghuang's summons, Liu Baqiao didn't dare linger. He followed the two toward Fortune Street, but as he left, he couldn't help glancing at the worried middle-aged man.
A scruffy man lingering in the crowd hesitated for a moment, then, after the neighbors had gradually dispersed, walked alone into the courtyard.
The woman was about to take her children to her parents' house—a prospect she thoroughly dreaded. Her family were all snobs who looked down on the man she had chosen. So in recent years, aside from holidays, they rarely visited. But this unforeseen disaster left her no choice. She had wanted to be brave and take her son and daughter to an inn or restaurant for a few days, to live like a wealthy wife for once. But alas, her pockets were empty—so poor she couldn't even afford a jingle. She had no choice but to swallow her pride and return to her parents' house to endure their cold shoulders. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Before leaving, she twisted her husband's waist flesh hard, not stopping until his entire face contorted. The children were used to this scene and, far from worrying about their parents fighting, were secretly delighted.
The sharp-eyed woman spotted the scruffy man sneaking around the doorway and immediately cursed, "You Zheng! Here to steal my clothes again? Are you a dog? Even rabbits don't eat grass from their own burrow! No matter how unwilling I am to admit it, I've had eight lifetimes of bad luck being your sister-in-law. How could you bring yourself to steal?"
The scruffy man was close to tears, wishing he were dead. "Sister-in-law, heaven and earth know my heart! I just forgot to buy candy for little Huai, so he said that on purpose. How could you actually believe him?"
The little boy looked innocent.
Of course, the woman believed her own child. She raised her hand to slap the man.
He quickly ducked and ran aside, shouting at the man squatting on the ground, "Senior brother, why don't you stop her!"
The man muttered in a thick voice, "I dare not."
The scruffy man sighed endlessly. "Honest people just can't get by in this world."
The woman took a child by each hand and walked toward the gate. Suddenly, she turned back, tossed a flirtatious glance, and said with a smile, "Zheng! Next time, bring more money. I'll sell to you—fifty copper coins per piece. How about it?"
The scruffy man's eyes lit up. He said timidly, "That's a bit expensive... even new clothes at the Apricot Blossom Lane shop, with the best fabric, are only this price..."
The woman's face changed faster than turning a page, cursing, "You actually dare harbor such thoughts?! Go to hell! You deserve to be a bachelor forever! A worthless life—when you die outside the east gate, no one will even collect your body..."
After the woman and children left, the scruffy man lightly jumped back and sat on the courtyard wall. He fumed, "Senior brother, not to criticize, but you were truly blinded by lard to pick such a shrewish woman as your wife."
It turned out this scruffy fellow was the town's east gatekeeper, surnamed Zheng—a bachelor.
The simple-minded man still squatting in the courtyard burst out, "I'm happy."
The gatekeeper, who collected fees from outsiders, was silent for a moment, then said, "Master wants you to endure for now and not fight anyone."
The gatekeeper glanced up at the pitiful roof and suddenly laughed. "Master also said, if you really can't stand it, take it out on your wife. She doesn't mind your roughness—she actually likes it that way."
The man who couldn't produce more than ten words at a time looked up at the scruffy man on the wall, who quickly corrected, "Fine, fine, I, Zheng Dafeng, said that. Master never said such things."
The simple-minded man stood up—short and stocky, with bronze skin, his arm muscles bulging enough to strain his sleeves.
He was also slightly hunched. He said irritably to the town gatekeeper, "If Master is willing to say more than ten words to you, I'll change my surname to yours."
The gatekeeper silently repeated Master's instructions, then counted on his fingers—and it really was under ten words! The scruffy man cursed under his breath, then slumped in dejection. For once, his genuine emotions showed, making him look especially pitiful.
The hunched man asked, "Anything else?"
The gatekeeper nodded. "Master wants you to deal with that person."
The hunched man frowned, habitually crouching again, facing the damaged house. He mumbled, "Why?"
The gatekeeper rolled his eyes. "Anyway, Master said to do it. Take it or leave it."
The man thought for a moment. "Leave. Next time I catch you stealing from my wife, I'll break three of your legs."
The scruffy man, Zheng Dafeng, flew into a rage. "Li Er! Explain yourself! Who's stealing your woman's clothes?! You believe such nonsense? Is your brain waterlogged?"
The man turned to look at his furious junior disciple, his face dark, saying nothing.
Zheng Dafeng looked like a wronged, resentful maiden, grief and indignation overwhelming him. "I'll never dare again. Happy now?!"
The gatekeeper stood, and with a light tap of his toe, drifted into the street like a pagoda leaf. Once at a distance, he dared to shout, "Li Er, I'm going to buy your wife's undergarments right now!"
The scruffy man ran faster than a dog while shouting threats.
But the simple-minded man didn't even attempt to stand. He spat out one word: "Coward."
---
The three returned to the office, where the Confucian gentleman from Guanhu Academy, Cui Minghuang, had been waiting in the main hall. Upon seeing the unfamiliar woman, Cui Minghuang stood and nodded. The woman also nodded, her face still cold—what Liu Baqiao privately described as "the whole world owes her a fortune."
After the three sat down, Cui Minghuang smiled at Liu Baqiao. "Good thing you held back and didn't attack, or you would have caused a huge mess. You didn't see it, but our superintendent, Lord Song, and the Zhengyang Mountain guardian ape just exchanged three punches head-on on Fortune Street. Quite a commotion. Honestly, no matter how rare an opportunity you encounter next, I advise you not to act. Don't think there's a chance to exploit."
Liu Baqiao asked curiously, "Did that old beast knock down Song Changjing with three punches? Is Song Changjing that useless? I heard he touched the threshold of the Tenth Realm—just half a step away."
Cui Minghuang sighed helplessly. "We're staying under Lord Song's roof. Can you at least be polite?"
Chen Songfeng remarked, "Lord Song had the advantage."
Even though he was completely unrelated to that Great Li prince, any cultivator hearing of such a feat couldn't help but feel awe!
A pure martial artist, using only his physical body to go toe-to-toe with a mountain-moving ape!
And the key was that this man had the upper hand!
The woman sat nearby with her eyes closed, resting, her hands naturally resting on her knees.
Hearing this, her fingers twitched slightly.
She had been hastily found by Chen Songfeng. She had originally planned to wander the town indefinitely.
The reason she hadn't insisted on staying and had followed Chen Songfeng to find Liu Baqiao and return to the office was simply to conform to local customs.
As for whether Chen Songfeng could gain any benefit from the old pagoda tree—how many ancestral leaves he might obtain—the woman surnamed Chen didn't care.
But when Chen Songfeng found her, she could clearly sense the young man's deliberately suppressed excitement. He had likely reaped a bountiful harvest, the number of fallen leaves exceeding the expectations of the Dragon Tail Commandery Chen family ancestor.
Liu Baqiao suddenly burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. "That old beast really fell flat on his face! How satisfying! Being led around like a dog or monkey by an ordinary youth, walked by the nose through half the town! Haha, this heavenly joke is enough material for me to brag about at the Wind Thunder Garden for ten years! When that happens, those bumpkins from Zhengyang Mountain will surely jump out and say we're slandering them—'If you have proof, show it!' I'll show you my uncle's proof! If only this realm didn't suppress techniques, and breaking the rules wasn't so costly, I would have 'imprinted' this whole scene into a Voice-and-Face Mirror no matter what!"
Cui Minghuang's face suddenly changed. He said sternly, "Baqiao!"
The woman opened her eyes almost simultaneously.
Liu Baqiao was about to ask what was wrong when he abruptly fell silent.
Soon, a white-robed man approached leisurely. After crossing the threshold, he smiled at Liu Baqiao. "What's so amusing? Sharing joy is better than enjoying alone—why not let this prince have a laugh too?"
Cui Minghuang had already stood up and was about to offer the main seat to the Great Li prince.
Song Changjing smiled and shook his head at this Guanhu Academy scholar, indicating no need for such formalities. He casually pulled up a chair, sat beside Liu Baqiao, with Chen Songfeng and the woman flanking them on either side.
Though Liu Baqiao gave the impression of being a lazy, reckless character, facing a martial artist who might have entered the legendary Tenth Realm at such close range—especially one with such a notorious reputation, notorious for building pyramids of skulls and, more chillingly, for his hobby of executing geniuses—was unnerving. So despite calling Song Changjing by name casually when the prince wasn't around, Liu Baqiao was now extremely nervous.
Fortunately, the young sword cultivator had never cared much about saving face. He smiled apologetically. "Grandmaster Song, I was just recounting your legendary battle with the old beast from Zhengyang Mountain—truly earth-shattering! Your fist was like a dragon, Your Highness. If not for your restraint, that guardian ape would have been utterly destroyed on Fortune Street. Lord Song's martial arts mastery and virtue are truly beyond my ability to match!"
Song Changjing smiled without speaking.
Liu Baqiao's forehead beaded with cold sweat, his back soaked. Finally, he couldn't utter another word and fell silent, crestfallen.
Song Changjing suddenly turned to the woman opposite, his eyes playful and interested. "You're also a disciple of the Chen family of Dragon Tail Commandery?"
The woman shook her head and said slowly, "No."
Song Changjing said, "Oh," thoughtfully.
The atmosphere grew awkward.
Until Song Jixin appeared at the door. Seeing no chairs inside, the youth casually sat on the threshold, looking at everyone in the room.
Song Changjing was unperturbed. He smiled at Liu Baqiao. "Actually, the youth surviving—you were one of his benefactors."
If not for the mountain-moving ape initially believing the youth's provocation was instigated by someone else—and in this town, anyone daring to set a trap for Zhengyang Mountain would be no fool, but rather someone skilled in planning—then the old ape, unwilling to show any weakness, had looked rather wretched around Clay Bottle Lane.
So only at the westernmost house, after confirming no assassins lurked nearby, did the old ape relax slightly and strike the straw-sandaled youth's back.
Liu Baqiao laughed awkwardly. "Though that's true, I don't want to be that kind of benefactor."
Song Changjing smiled dismissively.
The woman turned to glance at the handsome youth sitting on the threshold.
The youth gave her a slight smile.
The woman turned back, expressionless.
The youth pursed his lips and began openly admiring her long legs. She appeared about twenty-five or twenty-six, with passable looks, but the youth found her quite attractive.
The woman turned back, her eyes cold, and rasped, "You're looking for death?"
Song Jixin pointed at himself with an expression of extreme, punchable innocence. "Me?"
Then the youth pointed at Song Changjing. "You'll have to ask him first."
The woman was about to stand.
Song Changjing narrowed his eyes instantly.
In the main hall, a massive pressure descended like a violent rainstorm, pounding everyone's heads. There was nowhere to hide. Everyone's skin actually stung with a physical, needle-like pain.
Only Song Jixin at the door seemed unaffected.
Chen Songfeng spoke with difficulty, though his tone didn't weaken. "Your Highness, this lady is not from our East Treasure Bottle Continent. I hope Your Highness will act prudently!"
The woman laughed and stood. "You dare kill me? Aren't you afraid your Great Li will be destroyed?"
Cui Minghuang was about to intervene.
But the woman was sent flying backward, the chair behind her turning to powder in midair. Not only that, her tall body slammed into the wall, embedding almost like an object fixed within it.
Song Changjing stood before the wall as if he had teleported, hands clasped behind his back, looking up slightly at the woman with blood flowing from her seven orifices. He smiled. "Little girl, do you think your father or ancestor is so powerful that you can spout... what's that word again?"
The prince turned to look at his nephew with a smile. The youth grinned. "Jue—talk big."
Song Changjing smiled, turned back to the woman. Despite her agony, her gaze was resolute, without a hint of pleading. Song Changjing said, "In your next life, don't run into this prince again."
Chen Songfeng felt his liver and gallbladder might rupture. His eyes were bloodshot, caught in a complex mix of fury and terror. He was about to speak.
Cui Minghuang had already stepped forward, bowing. "Your Highness, may I ask you to give me face and not hold this against her?"
Song Changjing's lips twitched with mockery.
The woman, meeting Song Changjing's gaze, suddenly closed her eyes as if accepting her fate.
Just then, the youth at the door laughed. "Uncle! Forget it. Bullying a woman—if word gets out, it'll tarnish your reputation."
Song Changjing's form paused ever so slightly—so minute that even Cui Minghuang and Liu Baqiao felt the killing god hadn't moved at all.
Song Changjing tilted his head and flicked two fingers casually, as if brushing dust from his shoulder.
Liu Baqiao, the Wind Thunder Garden's top junior, stood frozen like a statue.
Cui Minghuang felt as if a great weight had been lifted.
Chen Songfeng felt as if lost in clouds and mist.
Song Changjing smiled at Liu Baqiao. "Not bad, boy. This prince approves of you."
The woman opened her eyes, "extracted" herself from the wall, staggered slightly upon landing, and said to the retreating figure, "Today's lesson—Chen Dui will remember it forever."
Song Changjing ignored her. He said to Liu Baqiao, "After leaving the town, go to Great Li's capital and find this prince. There's something to give you—but whether you can carry it away depends on you."
Liu Baqiao blurted, "A Talisman Sword!"
Cultivators all knew that talisman swords were one of the Daoist major artifacts. But for a sword to be directly called a "Talisman Sword" and known to all—that showed how extraordinary it must be.
Song Changjing and Song Jixin walked out of the courtyard. The man smiled. "Is that resentment in your heart released?"
Song Jixin nodded. "Pretty much."
Regarding Chen Ping'an, this man had even tricked his own nephew. Song Jixin had been full of anger and resentment.
Song Jixin suddenly frowned. "That woman obviously has a powerful background. Uncle, aren't you afraid of hitting the small one and provoking the big one, or hitting the big one and provoking the old ones? If the local records are truthful, I know how formidable those old monsters are. Will Great Li really be okay then?"
The man settled the matter with one sentence.
"You underestimate the name Song Changjing too much."
---
Back in the main hall, Cui Minghuang sat down, revealing nothing.
Liu Baqiao slumped in his chair, still shaken. "Good heavens—is the gap between the Seventh and Eighth Realms and this Ninth Realm really that big?"
The Wind Thunder Garden had one martial artist each at the Seventh and Eighth Realms, both on good terms with Liu Baqiao.
Cui Minghuang shook his head. "In Go, even among national champions at the ninth dan, there's great variation. Moreover, Song Changjing is the strongest in the Ninth Realm."
Then Cui Minghuang looked at the woman named Chen Dui and asked with concern, "Miss Chen, are you alright?"
The woman was tough. Though pale, she smiled calmly. "No matter."
Chen Songfeng seemed more agitated than the person actually involved.
Cui Minghuang sighed inwardly. The Dragon Tail Commandery Chen family would likely find it hard to stand out in the coming chaotic struggle.
Liu Baqiao clicked his tongue. "One flick of a finger, and he can send my flying sword back into its sheath without harming my soul in the slightest. Truly unbelievable."
Cui Minghuang teased, "Now you know there are mountains beyond mountains, and people beyond people?"
Liu Baqiao, unable to change his ways, grinned mischievously. "People beyond people? Mr. Cui, you're not very gentlemanly at all!"
Cui Minghuang was exasperated and couldn't be bothered with this fool.
Liu Baqiao thought for a moment and spoke to comfort the oddly named woman, lest she be unable to let it go and seek trouble with Song Changjing, which would spell disaster for everyone present. "Big sister Chen, though I'm boosting his reputation and diminishing our own, when facing Song Changjing, bowing your head and taking a step back isn't humiliating."
Chen Songfeng wanted to speak but hesitated.
But the woman murmured, "Song Changjing does have that qualification. I don't dispute it—I'm just unwilling."
Liu Baqiao said carelessly, "Actually, there's no need to be unwilling. Look at me—I'm overjoyed now. When I return to the Wind Thunder Garden, I'll have another ten years of bragging material. I actually exchanged blows with Song Changjing of Great Li—even if it was just one move, I, Liu Baqiao, emerged completely unscathed! Of course, if I really get that Talisman Sword from Great Li's capital, I can brag for a hundred years!"
The woman's thoughts drifted elsewhere.
She inexplicably thought of the youth sitting on the threshold—the one who could stop Song Changjing from killing with a single sentence.
---
When the old shopkeeper of the Yang family shop returned to the town, he headed straight for the courtyard behind his shop—not too big, just enough for the shop's three workers.
The shopkeeper pushed open the main room's door and saw an old man sitting in a chair, fiddling with his old dry tobacco pipe. After closing the door, he called out, "Old Yang." The old man quickly set down his bamboo pipe, poured a cup of tea, and smiled. "Shopkeeper, does someone need medicine urgently? Should I go up the mountain in the dark?"
The elderly shopkeeper, who appeared roughly the same age as the old man he addressed, shook his head, picked up the tea cup, and sighed. "Today I treated a patient for Master Ruan—a youth surnamed Liu, beaten half to death by outsiders. My heart wasn't at ease, so I came to sit with you for a bit, to settle down."
Old Yang, his face covered in wrinkles like old pagoda tree bark, smiled. "Shopkeeper, just sit. We're not strangers."
The shopkeeper suddenly remembered something. "Right, Old Yang, a child you helped many years ago—the one from Clay Bottle Lane, pitiful, fetching medicine for his mother at a young age. Was his name Chen Ping'an?"
Old Yang was somewhat surprised and nodded. "Yes. That child's mother eventually passed away—if I recall correctly, she didn't survive that winter. After that, I saw the child a few times, but not often. Back then, I couldn't bear to watch and even gave him a worthless folk remedy. Why? Was this child injured?"
The shopkeeper sipped his tea and smiled bitterly. "Didn't I just say—the youth is surnamed Liu. Old Yang, honestly, what memory!"
Old Yang laughed heartily, unconcerned.
The old shopkeeper asked tentatively, "Old Yang, should our shop do something?"
Old Yang picked up his small Nan bamboo pipe and shook his head. "Shopkeeper, there's no need to do anything."
The shopkeeper seemed to have taken a reassuring pill and nodded. "Good, that's good. Old Yang, you go about your business. I'll be leaving."
Old Yang was about to stand and see him off, but the shopkeeper quickly waved it off. "No need, no need."
After the shopkeeper descended the steps, he looked back. Old Yang was about to close the door, and they shared a grin. The shopkeeper quickly turned and left.
When the old shopkeeper had taken over the shop in middle age, his father's dying words from his sickbed had been rather cryptic: "'When the shop faces a major crisis, find Old Yang and do as he says.' This instruction seems to have been passed down from your grandfather's grandfather. When you hand the shop to the next generation, you must never forget to tell them this. Never forget!"
The old shopkeeper had nodded vigorously. Only then had his father closed his eyes peacefully and passed away.
The night deepened.
Old Yang lit an oil lamp.
Puffing on his dry tobacco, the old man recalled some distant memories—small matters that no one would ever care about.
---
An ancestral home passed down through generations, tidied up so neatly it didn't seem like a household from Clay Bottle Lane.
A simple, honest man squatted at the courtyard gate, smiling at a delicate child. "Son, after the new year, you'll be a grown man, won't you?"
The child raised one hand energetically. "Dad, I'm five by Chinese count—I'm a grown man!"
The man smiled, a trace of sadness in his voice. "Then when Dad isn't here, you'll have to take care of Mom. Can you do that?"
The child immediately straightened his back. "Yes!"
The man smiled and extended a large, calloused hand. "Pinky swear."
The child quickly extended his small, pale hand, beaming. "Pinky swear, hang for a hundred years, no changing!"
The father and son hooked pinkies, then pressed thumbs together.
After releasing his hand, the man slowly stood, glanced back at the graceful figure busy in the main room, and then strode away.
Behind him, the child called, "Dad, candied hawthorn is yummy!"
The man's lips trembled. He turned back, forcing a smile. "Got it!"
The child was perceptive after all. He blinked. "The small ones are even yummier."
The man quickly turned away, not daring to look at his son. He continued walking, murmuring, "Son, Dad is leaving!"
---
At the Yang family shop, a child who came every few days to buy medicine was roughly pushed out by an impatient young shop assistant. The young man cursed, "How many times have I told you? That tiny bit of silver can't even buy the dregs! You're the most annoying customer—blocking the door for half a day! We're a pharmacy, not a temple with bodhisattvas for you to pray to! If you weren't so young, I'd really hit you. Get lost, get lost!"
The child clutched his empty money pouch tightly, wanting to cry but refusing to make a sound. He repeated the same words he'd said countless times: "My mother is still waiting for me to brew her medicine. She's been waiting a long time. We really have no money, but she's truly very sick..."
The young assistant grabbed a broom and raised it threateningly.
The child outside the threshold crouched in fear, covering his head with both hands, his left hand still gripping the money pouch.
After a long while, the child looked up and found a stern-faced old man standing there, looking at him.
The young assistant had already set down the broom and gone back to his tasks.
The old man extended a hand. "Goods for money, merchants earning profit—that's the natural order. How much profit depends on conscience, but there's no such thing as losing money. So give me the money pouch. I'll take those few bits of silver, and the medicine your mother needs today—I'll put it on credit. But you'll have to pay it back later, down to the last fraction. Understood, little one?"
The child blinked, dazed, but still handed over the money pouch.
Finally, the old man had to lean over the counter with some effort to see the child, whose head barely reached above it. "Do you know how to brew medicine?"
The child nodded like a chick pecking rice. "Yes!"
The old man frowned. "Really?"
This time, the child only dared nod slightly.
The young assistant called from a distance with a laugh, "Master Liu went to Clay Bottle Lane once to treat his mother. After diagnosing her, he taught the child how to brew medicine. Later, not trusting the child, he personally supervised. Surprisingly, for such a tiny kid, he got it exactly right. Master Liu himself said so—it must be true."
The old man waved the child off. "Go on."
The child happily carried a large bundle of medicine wrapped in yellow waxed paper and ran back to Clay Bottle Lane at full speed.
His mother lay on the wooden bed. After the child tiptoed inside, he found her still asleep. He touched her forehead—it wasn't hot—and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he carefully moved her hand back under the blanket.
The child went to the small kitchen outside and began brewing medicine in a clay pot, seizing the gaps to start cooking.
The child had to stand on a small stool.
He stirred the pot vigorously, choking on the hot steam, muttering all the while, "Must make it delicious, must! Otherwise Mother won't have an appetite again..."
---
A child of only five by Chinese count, carrying a basket almost bigger than himself, walked toward the mountains outside the town.
This was the child's second trip into the mountains. The first time, Old Yang from the Yang family shop had taken him. Considering the child's frail legs, they walked very slowly. Moreover, the old man had only taught the child which herbs to pick, and carried the basket himself. So that trip had actually been relatively easy. Today was different—the child walked under the blazing sun with the basket, feeling waves of burning pain across his back.
The child walked while crying, gritting his teeth and pressing forward.
That trip, the child didn't return to the Yang family shop until dark. The basket contained only a thin layer of herbs.
Old Yang flew into a rage.
The child explained through tears that his mother was home alone, and he was afraid she would go hungry, or he wouldn't have gathered so little. He could get up earlier tomorrow to go into the mountains.
The old man said nothing, turned, and left. He said only that he'd give the child one more chance.
In less than two months, the child's hands and feet were covered in calluses.
---
One day, a sudden rainstorm trapped the child—who had gone up the mountain to pick herbs and lost track of time—on the far side of the stream.
Watching the raging flood, the child wailed in the pouring rain.
Finally, when the child could no longer hold back and was about to jump into the stream—
Old Yang suddenly appeared on the opposite bank, took one step across the stream, and another step to carry the child back.
Soybean-sized raindrops pounded down, but on the way down the mountain, the child kept smiling happily.
After leaving the mountains, the old man said, "Little Ping'an, make me a tobacco pipe, and I'll teach you a little trick for climbing mountains without getting tired."
The child wiped the rain from his face haphazardly and grinned. "Okay!"
---
The child bounced back to Clay Bottle Lane. Today he had picked a rare and precious herb, so the Yang family shop had given him extra medicine for his mother.
Having not eaten all day, the child was walking when he suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his stomach.
In that moment, the child knew he had eaten something wrong on the mountain.
The pain started in his stomach, spread to his hands and feet, and finally reached his head.
The child first carefully crouched, set down the basket, and took deep breaths, trying to suppress the pain.
But waves of scorching heat alternated with icy chills. In the end, the child could only roll in agony in the narrow alley.
From beginning to end, the child didn't dare cry out.
No matter how his head smashed against the alley walls, the child never made a sound.
Home was too close.
The child feared his mother lying in bed would worry.
In those moments of hazy consciousness, the child only heard his own heartbeat—like a war drum booming right beside his ear.
---
In Apricot Blossom Lane, a child squatted near the candied hawthorn stall again. Each time, he squatted for only a short while, but long enough for the stall owner to remember that dark little face.
Finally, one day, the man selling candied hawthorn took one down and smiled. "Here, no charge."
The child quickly stood, shook his head with a shy smile, and ran off.
After that, the child was never seen again.
---
That winter.
The woman on the sickbed was gaunt to the bone, her face naturally withered and haggard.
The child, who had just returned from praying before the ruined divine statues, fetched water from the Iron Lock Well in Apricot Blossom Lane. He came to the bedside, sat on a small stool, and finding his mother awake, asked softly, "Mother, are you feeling better?"
The woman smiled with difficulty. "Much better. It doesn't hurt at all."
The child was overjoyed. "Mother, praying to the bodhisattvas works!"
The woman nodded. With trembling effort, she extended a hand. The child quickly took his mother's hand.
The woman painfully turned on her side, gazing at her child's face. This woman, tormented by illness, suddenly glowed with a radiance of happiness. She murmured, "How can there be such a wonderful child in this world? And how could he be my son of all people?"
---
That winter, the woman ultimately didn't survive past the year's end. She didn't live to see her son put up the spring couplets and door gods. She died.
Before she closed her eyes, the town had just started to snow. She sent her son out to see the snow.
The woman listened to her son's footsteps leaving the room, closed her eyes, and devoutly whispered, "Safe and sound, safe and sound, safe and sound. My little Ping'an, safe year after year, year after year, generation after generation, safe and sound forever..."
From that day on, Chen Ping'an became an orphan.
He had simply changed from a child into a youth.