Chen Ping'an returned to the blacksmith's forge and, after finishing his work, used the meal break to approach Master Ruan, who was squatting under the eaves with Ruan Xiu. Chen Ping'an said he needed to borrow some money —perhaps fifteen or sixteen taels of silver.
Ruan Qiong didn't even bother asking why. He stopped eating, cast a sideways glance at the straw-sandaled boy, and spat out two words: "Get lost."
Chen Ping'an promptly obeyed and scurried away.
Ruan Xiu frowned. "Father, can't you speak to him properly?"
Ruan Qiong snorted. "Not beating him already qualifies as speaking properly."
Ruan Xiu spoke up in Chen Ping'an's defense: "He works so hard as your apprentice and hasn't taken a single coin in wages. During the evening hours when everyone else was inside snoring or idling, Chen Ping'an was still hauling earth from the well, trip after trip, never resting. Father, you know perfectly well who's been the most diligent worker all this time. Look into your conscience and tell me —fifteen or sixteen taels of silver, how is that excessive?"
Ruan Qiong's face darkened. He said nothing, thinking to himself: *Precisely because I know exactly what's going on, I want to kill this little bastard who's trying to poach my apprentice.*
If the boy had possessed the cultivation and ability of the mountain-moving ape from Righteous Peak, Ruan Qiong would have followed Qi Jingchun's example and beaten him half to death for satisfaction. But even considering this, Ruan Qiong felt a pang of discouragement. Though he was certain he could surpass the mountain-moving ape even without his status as the presiding saint of this realm, matching Qi Jingchun's ability to settle a matter with a single kick was clearly beyond him.
Ruan Qiong consoled himself: though he was nominally a military sword cultivator, his true pursuit was not the hierarchy of battle prowess, but to become one of the realm's foremost swordsmiths —to forge a living sword that might one day develop its own spiritual awareness, adding a true being to heaven and earth: one capable of life and death, of cultivation, of reincarnation, even of pursuing the Great Dao.
Ruan Qiong set down his bowl and chopsticks, looked up at the sky, and muttered a string of curses. "You really think that just because Qi Jingchun is dead, you can do whatever you want? I made my rules plain for all to hear. Since you won't abide by them, then show me you have the power to break them. If you don't —then die."
Seeing no one around, Ruan Qiong shot upward from his squat like a streak of white light erupting from the earth, rocketing into the high sky above the cloud-sea.
Above the clouds, several women in celestial robes and men in brocade and jade belts walked together through the air, laughing and chatting —carefree immortals all. Every so often they would gaze down at the former Lizhu small chiliocosm, their amusement so effortless that a natural breeze seemed to rise from their very conversation.
A thunderous crack rang out.
The head of a resplendent woman wearing a golden hairpin burst open. Then the head of a beautiful young maiden beside her did the same. One after another, men and women alike met the same fate, with no exception.
Ruan Qiong hovered above the brilliant golden cloud-sea, his gaze sharp as he surveyed the surroundings. He sneered: "Is that all? Sending these petty minnows to probe my limits? Don't you think that's rather insulting? True, I'm just a blacksmith —far inferior to Qi Jingchun. But killing a blind fool or two from the tenth floor of cultivation within this territory? Child's play. So hear me clearly —from this moment, there is one more rule. Even if you lurk beyond the border, coveting the blessed land of Lizhu, should I ever be in a foul mood, I will drag you back over the line and crush your skull. Believe it or not, as you wish."
The moment Ruan Qiong finished speaking, he vanished beyond the boundary in a flash. An instant later, he reappeared with one hand pressed upon an old man's skull, dragging the elder back across the line. His five fingers tightened. The Daoist-looking old man begged desperately: "Master Ruan! Master Ruan! Let us speak reasonably! I am from the Purple Smoke River nearby—"
Before he could finish, Ruan Qiong crushed the immortal's skull and flung the corpse beyond the borders of his blessed land. The streak of green light that fled from the body —Ruan Qiong merely glanced at it coldly, declining to kick a man while he was down. The green light, no more than three chi long, streaked nearly a thousand li before plunging into a vast river wreathed in faint purple mist. The river's grandeur dwarfed the mightiest waterways within Great Li's borders.
Ruan Qiong, blood still staining his fingers, declared in a carrying voice: "So it shall stand for the next sixty years."
From the distant cloud-sea, a female cultivator hiding among the mists spoke in indignation: "Such brutal, cruel methods —how is this the conduct of a saint who presides over a region's fortune?"
Ruan Qiong laughed in exasperation. "Oh? Getting clever now, hiding so far away to mutter your complaints, thinking I can't touch you? Hell —I'm not some book-addled fool like Qi Jingchun. You want to lecture a military sword cultivator on morality and etiquette? Are you out of your mind?"
Ruan Qiong extended one arm at an angle, two fingers pressed together, and chanted inwardly: *"Heavenly force, rising wind! Earthly fury, thunder pool fire —swift, as the law commands!"*
In an instant, two tremendous surges of energy erupted —one from the heavens, one from the earth —like twin springs newly risen from the ground.
From another quarter, a warm voice urgently warned: "It's Ruan Qiong's life-bound dual swords of wind and thunder! Lan Ting, retreat immediately! Ruan Qiong's life-bound artifacts are unlike those of ordinary cultivators —they are not housed in his acupoints, but wander throughout the three thousand li of heaven and earth around him, carried by his two military shadow-spirits..."
Above the cloud-sea, a stream of radiant green light fled desperately for its life. Around the light, sprays of crystalline peach blossoms orbited, shielding their mistress as she fled.
The green light had barely covered eight hundred li when a slender azure thread descended from the sky and pierced straight through its core.
The man who had spoken up for her, sensing danger, had already vanished using his own unique escape art.
Silence fell upon the heavens. No one dared utter another word.
Ruan Qiong sneered and ceased dealing with these scheming vermin. His figure descended to the streamside near the blacksmith's forge. The blacksmith, still reeking of killing intent and the copper scent of blood, reached into the water and washed the blood from his fingers.
Ruan Qiong sighed and spoke with sorrow: "Qi Jingchun —if only you had been half as unreasonable as I am. Then you wouldn't have had to leave so bitterly."
---
On the bank, Chen Ping'an was completing his hour of stance-walking. On the return leg, after finishing his practice, he was stretching and loosening his muscles when he spotted Master Ruan emerging from the streamside. He hesitated, slowed his pace, and decided not to court a rebuke. For some reason, Chen Ping'an always felt that Master Ruan didn't think highly of him —the way the man looked at him reminded him of Old Man Yao, carrying that same air of disdain.
Ruan Qiong ignored the boy entirely and strode back toward the blacksmith's forge.
Chen Ping'an suddenly turned his gaze toward the water.
Calm as ever. Nothing amiss.
Yet his heart had clenched without warning, a chill running down his spine —as though a drowned ghost, unjustly killed, had fixed its stare upon him from the depths. An absurd feeling.
But his eyes revealed only the gentle, rippling current, cheerful and soft.
Unwilling to let it go, Chen Ping'an picked up a handful of pebbles of just the right weight and walked downstream along the bank, studying the water's surface carefully, searching for any clue.
The more he looked, the more unsettling it felt. In broad daylight, the stream gave off an air of eerie coldness. Even in his many dives into the deep pool beneath Green Ox's Back, he had never experienced such a clear sensation of revulsion. Chen Ping'an could now confirm one thing: the world held beings beyond imagination —demons, spirits, ghosts. Before, Mr. Qi had been in the small town, and so all evil had been held at bay. Now that Mr. Qi was gone, perhaps restless spirits were already at work. He would have to be cautious. Even if Master Ruan was to be the next "saint," Chen Ping'an dared not let his guard down. In truth, he still trusted Mr. Qi far more than the stern-faced Master Ruan —a healthy measure of respect, yes, but not a shred of closeness.
The reason Chen Ping'an dared to follow his instincts and investigate the strangeness in the water was that Master Ruan had just left. He doubted any water spirit would dare strike him down right under a saint's nose. Besides, Chen Ping'an carried within his sleeve the pair of landscape seals that Mr. Qi had given him —one of which bore the character for "Water." With that, the boy's courage was especially stout.
After he had tossed two handfuls of pebbles and was about to bend to gather more, a voice asked nearby: "What are you doing?"
A girl in green with a ponytail —Ruan Xiu.
Chen Ping'an had been entirely focused on the water and hadn't noticed her approach. He hid nothing, unafraid of her laughter, and pointed at the stream's surface. "I think there's something dirty in the water," he said honestly. "I was hoping to knock it out with the stones."
Ruan Xiu looked toward the stream and studied it intently. Her expression darkened.
"Is there really something wrong?" Chen Ping'an asked.
Ruan Xiu shook her head. "I can't tell."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "I was probably just being paranoid."
Ruan Xiu lowered her voice. "Go back first. I'm going to eat something here before returning to the forge. If my father asks, say you didn't see me."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "No problem."
He remembered something, found a well-edged stone on the ground, and asked: "Miss Ruan, may I ask you what some characters mean, and how they're pronounced?"
Ruan Xiu stiffened as though facing a formidable enemy.
Reading?
Books were simply the most terrifying things in the world. Open any page and every character looked like a cultivator commanding armies, strutting and posturing at her. Ruan Xiu genuinely got a headache every time she saw them. After following her father to the small town, she was supposed to attend the schoolhouse —no need to help at the forge. But she flatly refused, claiming a stomachache one day, a fever the next, the possibility of rain the day after, and a twisted ankle the one after that... Ruan Qiong had grown too tired of the flimsy excuses and finally let her off the hook.
But today, Ruan Xiu didn't want to appear cowardly before the boy. She steadied herself and forced a smile: "Write them out first."
When Chen Ping'an carved two characters in the ground with his stone, Ruan Xiu's demeanor transformed. Her eyes lit up, and she said with confident delight: "These two? Far too simple. I've known them since I was very small —the character *shen*, and the character *ting*. Together, they name a human acupoint: the Divine Court. Acupoints are the reason we humans stand above all living things. Many demons and spirits who cultivate the Great Dao must eventually take human form, because the human body is the most suited for cultivation. We have three hundred and sixty-five acupoints, great and small —each one a mountain of gold and silver treasure. The ancients said: 'Acupoints are where the spirit and qi travel, enter, and exit.' Our three souls and six spirits are like children eatinga hundred families—a bowl of rice here, a cup of water there —gradually nourishing and growing stronger."
Ruan Xiu spoke fluently, then touched a finger to her own head and smiled. "As for the Divine Court, it's right here —measure five-fen upward from your hairline. For military sword cultivators like my father and me, this acupoint isn't particularly important. In our trade's terminology, it's not one of the 'strategic points' —we can take it or leave it. But for those beings that survive on incense and faith, this acupoint is vital. Still, my father has always said those spirits and ghosts amount to nothing in the end. No matter how great their powers or how wide their dark path, they remain pitiable parasites clinging to others —hardly worth mentioning."
Chen Ping'an understood none of it, but he committed every word to memory. Then he asked about the "Great Gate" and the "Great Abyss."
Ruan Xiu answered each in turn. Though the girl disliked reading, that only applied to Confucian classics —she loved military cultivation, sword practice, and forging. These acupoint names she had known by heart since childhood.
Before Chen Ping'an could even ask, she said cheerfully: "When I have time, I'll teach you all three hundred and sixty-five acupoints —their names, locations, and functions."
Chen Ping'an smiled. "Thank you, Miss Ruan."
Ruan Xiu asked: "Did all those times I asked you to buy me pastries seem like a bother?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head. It was no trouble at all.
Ruan Xiu beamed. "Exactly."
A flicker of regret crossed her face. "Knowing the acupoints, though, actually doesn't matter much. The reason there are so many crooked and deviant cultivation paths in this world is that the methods for nourishing and refining qi all differ —a hair's breadth in approach, and you end up a thousand miles away. My family naturally has its own inherited techniques for dispersing and nurturing qi, but they can't be taught to outsiders. It's not a matter of whether my father agrees or not —Chen Ping'an, I'm sorry."
Chen Ping'an was not the sort to push his luck. He quickly smiled and explained: "No, no —I just wanted to learn to recognize more characters, nothing more. Besides, I already have a fist manual to practice. The stances in this manual alone are nearly more than I can handle —how could I afford to be distracted?"
Ruan Xiu laughed with relief and lightly patted her chest. "That's good then."
It trembled gently. A view all its own.
Chen Ping'an quickly averted his unintentional gaze, stood, and said seriously: "Miss Ruan, I'll wait until you're free. I can stay a bit longer before heading back to Mud Vase Lane."
Ruan Xiu stood as well and nodded with a smile. "All right."
Chen Ping'an jogged toward the blacksmith's forge.
Ruan Xiu descended the bank to the stream. She first took out a handkerchief, popped a piece of pastry into her mouth, and chewed slowly, savoring it.
After waiting roughly the time it would take for Chen Ping'an to reach the town, she rolled up her sleeve, revealing a crimson bracelet, and gazed into the clear water. Her voice dropped low: "Fire Dragon Walks the Water."
The bracelet liquefied instantly. Something awakened within it, writhing and twisting, until it became a small flood dragon wreathed entirely in flame. It joined head to tail, fitting perfectly around the girl's wrist.
At the green-clad maiden's command, the creature —barely a foot long when coiled —leaped into the stream.
One zhang. Three zhang. Ten zhang.
The fire dragon could walk upon the water.
"That's enough," Ruan Xiu ordered.
The fire dragon's body, now stretched to ten zhang, stopped growing. But the surrounding stream evaporated entirely. More than that —the upstream water, as though its courage had been broken, refused to advance further. It piled up behind, the water level rising, while downstream the current continued to rush forward.
Ruan Xiu narrowed her eyes and waited.
Waiting for the water to recede and the truth to emerge.
She walked along the dry riverbed at the stream's bottom, following the ten-zhang fire dragon forward.
Now that the small chiliocosm had shattered, the restrictions carefully laid by the four saints had likewise vanished. Cultivation techniques were no longer suppressed.
This was why Ruan Qiong had established his rules and why he had struck with such overwhelming force the moment he acted. Though this place had once been the smallest of the thirty-six small chiliocosms, and was not known for heavenly treasures, it remained a blessed land born of a chiliocosm. The benefits it offered to cultivation were still vast. With the great formation no longer restraining access, if left unchecked, outside cultivators would flood in —mixed of good and ill, pure and impure. In the end, the town's six thousand residents —save for those ancient turtles and old tortoises who had somehow survived —would likely all perish within a single day.
The way of the military valued rules, true, but it prized flexibility even more —far more adaptable than the Confucian school. It shifted with circumstances and location, adjusting as needed.
After roughly the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the fire dragon, still thrashing through the riverbed, finally seemed to have caught its cunning prey. It pressed down with one fierce claw and slowly lowered its head.
Ruan Xiu walked to the dragon's head and looked down. Beneath the claw crouched a woman, curled tightly into herself, clawed by the waist. She had hair the color of a raven's wing that reached to her waist, wrapped tightly around her entire body.
Ruan Xiu asked with curiosity: "A minor river god, and you dare play tricks at my doorstep? My father once beheaded six river gods in a single campaign —haven't you heard?"
The river crone —who had transformed from a withered old woman into a young wife —begged: "Great Immortal! Great Immortal! Your servant was merely passing through —never any intention to harm! Besides, I dared to release my spiritual presence only in hopes of helping Saint Ruan increase the stream's weight —a small effort, nothing more! Great Immortal, please calm your anger. If my appearance is ugly and offends your eyes, I will only dare walk at night from now on..."
Ruan Xiu cut straight to the point: "Do you know Chen Ping'an?"
The river crone, pinned by the fire dragon's claw, aged rapidly but dared only whimper pitifully, nodding like a chick pecking rice: "Yes, yes! I was originally from Apricot Flower Lane. That Chen Ping'an is the orphan from Mud Vase Lane —we've crossed paths occasionally, but there's been no enmity! Your servant has simply rarely seen townsfolk by the stream lately. Today, seeing that boy practicing his fists, I grew curious and watched a bit longer —never imagining it would bring such terrible trouble! Great Immortal, in your mercy, please spare this humble servant's unintended offense..."
Ruan Xiu waved her hand. The fire dragon dissolved back into an ancient-patterned crimson bracelet and settled on the girl's wrist.
Ruan Xiu still stood at a distance, the surging stream rushing violently behind her.
But what appeared next made the river crone's blood run cold —the stream parted before the girl as though before a sovereign predator, surrendering before any battle, curving around her to flow downstream.
What was more terrifying was that the river crone could sense the green-clad maiden had not used a single spell or technique.
Ruan Xiu smiled sweetly. "Don't just stare —tell me everything. Everything you know about Apricot Flower Lane and Mud Vase Lane. All of it."
Freed, the river crone's appearance slowly began to recover its youth. But the next instant, she screamed in sudden terror —her cascade of raven-black hair was shrinking in length. She cried out, heart-wrenching: "Why is my cultivation draining away?!"
The green-clad maiden ate a pastry and answered through a full mouth: "Hm? Oh, right —sorry, forgot to tell you. I was born with a Fire Spirit body. Water and I are natural enemies."
The river crone forced herself to calm, tears falling silently as she begged: "Great Immortal, show mercy and forgive this servant's unintentional trespass."
Ruan Xiu considered for a moment. "In the future, I will call you here to tell me stories. Don't worry —I'll conceal my life-bound aura."
The river crone, face twisted in misery, dared not refuse. She agreed.
Ruan Xiu walked back toward the bank, pausing to say: "Don't let this happen again."
The river crone kept saying she wouldn't dare.
The girl climbed the bank, tossed her ponytail, and walked toward the blacksmith's forge.
The river crone sank into the water. Her face was a mask of twisted hatred, but after these few defeats, she had learned to crush the rage down hard.
A string of thoughts —not her own —struck heavily in her mind:
*"Fool. Curb your ignorance. Do you have any idea what this girl's future proof-of-Dao will be? She will one day slay every river god across the entire continent —and you, a petty little river crone, still harbor murderous thoughts toward her? Aren't you afraid of giving everyone a good laugh? Even if she stretched her neck and offered it to you, in the end it would be you who dies. Do you realize how keenly she perceives any yin entity in water? So yes —what you are thinking right now, you are correct. The first river god she will kill is you. So start thinking now about how to mend this. What should have been a catastrophe may yet become the seed of a great opportunity.*
*This is my final warning. If you so much as step beyond the rules again, no one else will need to act —I will personally ensure you can neither live nor die."*
The river crone hung motionless in the water after the voice faded, her body swaying gently, yet utterly devoid of life.
The Great Dao was vast and uncertain —enough to break any heart.
---
In the forging room, Ruan Qiong saw his daughter come bouncing in. He said gruffly: "Bullying a powerless little river crone —are you that pleased with yourself?"
The girl smiled radiantly. "Then I'll bully her after she becomes a river god."
Ruan Qiong frowned. "Xiuxiu, don't ever take river gods and water spirits lightly. They are legitimate water deities inscribed in the continent's register of mountains, rivers, lakes, and seas. They may not compare to the Five Peak gods of the various kingdoms, but killing them within their own waters is no easy task."
The girl simply said: "Oh." Then casually added: "Then just make sure they have no water to dwell in."
Ruan Qiong's heart jolted. He quickly suppressed the smile that threatened to curl at the corner of his mouth.