The young Wind-Thunder Garden sword cultivator's eyes lit up the moment he saw the boy and girl. His first words to Ning Yao were: "Little lady, when you're a bit older, you'll surely rival our Fairy Su."
This was probably the highest compliment the young swordsman could pay a woman.
Ning Yao's expression naturally soured, but before she could respond, Liu Baqiao—who spoke the town dialect—had already turned to Chen Ping'an and thrust out a thumb. The Wind-Thunder Garden's prodigious sword cultivator's gaze was clear as he said: "With nothing but a mortal's body, you dared challenge the mountain-moving ape of Zhengyang Mountain—and you actually survived. It's nothing short of a miracle!"
Liu Baqiao was genuinely curious: how had this straw-shoe boy with his thin arms and legs managed to cultivate such astonishing explosive power?
He lowered his thumb, but instead of walking alongside Chen Dui and Chen Songfeng at the front, he fell in step with Chen Ping'an. He grinned and said: "Zhengyang Mountain may just be a small hillock hiding some overrated cowards, but that mountain-moving ape's fearsome reputation was earned one punch at a time. Especially in the two hundred years after Zhengyang Mountain's founding ancestor died and before they opened their third peak—the ape alone held the mountain together, keeping it from being swallowed by neighboring powers. Of course, back then Zhengyang Mountain was still just a small, insignificant sect. The enemies they faced weren't too formidable. If they'd provoked our Wind-Thunder Garden back then—ha, no contest. Just one word from the ancestor, and he'd grant me a sword-command token. I'd fly solo over Zhengyang Mountain's airspace and casually drop our Thunderpool Sword Formation on them. After that little rain of swords, Zhengyang Mountain would be done for."
Liu Baqiao made a casual throwing gesture.
Ning Yao mercilessly punctured his boast: "Zhengyang Mountain isn't as pathetic as you make it out to be, and the Wind-Thunder Garden isn't as mighty as you claim."
Liu Baqiao showed not a trace of embarrassment. With the speed of lightning, he changed the subject and whispered mysteriously to Chen Ping'an: "I heard the gallery bridge's predecessor was a stone arch bridge, and under the arch hung a rusty old sword-blank, to prevent dragons from rising from the water. Generally, something that looks like an unremarkable old relic is never ordinary—it could be a spirit treasure that shakes heaven and earth and makes ghosts weep."
Liu Baqiao stomped hard on the wooden plank walkway: "But I just lay on the ground and knocked around with my hands for ages and couldn't find a thing. Could it be that this treasure has no affinity with me? That shouldn't be possible. A once-in-a-lifetime sword prodigy like me—if that old sword-blank were truly a divine weapon, forget about it flying over to acknowledge me as its master, shouldn't it at least resonate or vibrate? Could it really be nothing special—just an old thing with a longer history than most? What a pity, what a pity."
Beside him, Chen Ping'an looked somewhat blank. This fellow didn't seem to be joking at all. He was entirely serious—while his reasoning couldn't exactly be called "well-founded," you also couldn't say he was purely talking nonsense.
Liu Baqiao paid no mind to whether Chen Ping'an was annoyed and launched into stories about the town. He told of so-and-so who'd obtained a red-hot fortune so enviable that they'd managed to drag the entire iron chain of the Dragon-Lock Well out of the depths. And of so-and-so who'd wandered for days without finding fortune, only to casually look up in a run-down alley and discover a small bronze mirror embedded in the wall above a doorway. The man, hoping against hope, climbed a ladder and looked—sure enough, it was the ancestor of all demon-revealing mirrors, with cloud-and-thunder linked-arc patterns and eight small characters engraved upon it: "Light of Sun and Moon, All Under Heaven Illuminated." The fellow was so overjoyed he stood on the ladder and burst into tears. There was also a young lady of the Tidal Cavalry who, through misfortune turned to fortune, met young Master Cui of the Guan Lake Academy—and the two hit it off immediately...
After crossing the gallery bridge, Chen Dui and Chen Songfeng naturally slowed their pace, letting Chen Ping'an lead.
The group followed the nameless creek upstream. Chen Ping'an carried a large, yellowed bamboo basket on his back. Chen Songfeng bore a book-box woven from bamboo that still retained its lovely green color. Liu Baqiao was deeply curious about what Chen Ping'an had in his basket and insisted on investigating. He had Chen Ping'an slow down and rummaged through the basket as they walked, finding a motley collection of items: three stacked conical hats, two kettles—one for water, one for oil—two machetes of different sizes, two flint stones and a bundle of fire-starters. At the bottom lay a row of bamboo tubes, split and rejoined, roughly seven or eight sections, along with a small cloth bag holding fish hooks and line.
Liu Baqiao asked: "Chen Ping'an, what are those bamboo sections for?"
Chen Ping'an gave his answer: "Eight tubes in all. Six of them hold four white-rice balls each. The other two contain pickled vegetables that won't spoil easily."
Liu Baqiao's face was full of pride. His stride grew bouncy as he declared: "Pickled vegetables! I've eaten those!"
Chen Ping'an gave him a puzzled glance, thinking that having eaten pickled vegetables wasn't exactly an accomplishment—unless you could finish an entire tube of them in one go without water or rice. Now that would be impressive.
Liu Baqiao suddenly asked curiously: "On this trip into the mountains, we'll eat three meals at most. Do we really need two whole tubes of pickled vegetables? A tiny bite of pickled vegetable from me takes down half a bowl of rice!"
Chen Ping'an was considering which mountain path was fastest and answered absently: "Miss Ning and I will share one tube. You and your two friends can share the other."
Liu Baqiao was taken aback, then laughed in a low voice: "Don't be so distant. I'll share your tube."
Ning Yao said flatly: "Absolutely not. Eat with your friends."
Liu Baqiao protested indignantly: "Why not?!"
Ning Yao lifted her chin, indicating the answer lay with Chen Ping'an—meaning she couldn't be bothered to waste words on Liu Baqiao.
Liu Baqiao shifted his gaze to the boy, his eyes full of a plaintive look mixed with expectation.
Chen Ping'an smiled and shook his head.
Liu Baqiao sighed in resignation: "Valuing girls over friends. I understand."
Ning Yao mocked: "So fast and you're already friends? You must have thousands of them, if not tens of thousands."
Liu Baqiao's eyes widened: "How could that be?!"
Ning Yao arched an eyebrow and added three words for him: "How could it be so few?"
Liu Baqiao clucked his tongue: "Miss Ning, your temperament doesn't measure up to our Fairy Su."
Ning Yao asked: "Is that Su Jia from Zhengyang Mountain?"
Liu Baqiao grew even more pleased: "Yes! Su Jia—Jia, as in 'the finest grain of the harvest,' from the sage's words, 'Many are those who love to sow.' Isn't my Fairy Su's name enough to captivate the heart?"
Ning Yao asked a question Chen Ping'an couldn't possibly have understood: "If you truly care so much for Su Jia, have you ever considered what you would do if she actually liked you back?"
Liu Baqiao was thrown completely off balance. He stammered, muttering, and finally said to himself in a small voice: "How could she possibly like me..."
Chen Ping'an thought that Liu Baqiao wasn't a bad person.
Chen Dui and Chen Songfeng had fallen ten or so paces behind the three at the front.
Seeing Liu Baqiao and the straw-shoe boy getting along so well, Chen Songfeng felt a twinge of envy. Liu Baqiao seemed naturally gifted at socializing—scholars and merchants, emperors and generals, peddlers and commoners, there was no one he couldn't converse with.
Chen Songfeng asked in a low voice: "When that woman heard the news, she immediately visited the bureau and offered to return the armor as an apology on behalf of Qingfeng City's Xu clan. Why didn't you accept?"
Chen Dui was visibly more composed than she'd been before entering the town. Previously, if Chen Songfeng had asked such a question, she would have treated it as wind passing her ears. Now she explained with patience: "If Qingfeng City had known the truth all along—that the boy surnamed Liu descended from our Yingchen Chen clan's tomb-wardens—then their actions would have warranted severe consequences far beyond simply returning the armor. But since they didn't know beforehand, and great fortunes are inherently rare and open to all, the Yingchen Chen clan isn't so tyrannical as to claim otherwise."
Chen Songfeng smiled: "Perhaps Qingfeng City was also thinking of taking a shot at Zhengyang Mountain. If that old ape hadn't charged ahead, being used as a tiger-skin banner by the woman, Qingfeng City might never have gotten the armor at all."
Chen Dui resumed her usual cold demeanor: "Petty schemers who only follow the current, never caring what the true tide of affairs is."
Chen Songfeng lowered his voice, speaking as though casually: "Perhaps they lacked both the ability and the power. Rather than attempting grand deeds in futility, better to grasp whatever small advantages are available."
Chen Dui turned to glance at the Longwei Commandery scion. At his "innocent remark," she remained noncommittal.
They were about to enter the mountains. Chen Ping'an halted, and Chen Dui spoke almost simultaneously: "Liu Baqiao, tell him to just lead the way—as fast as possible."
Because of the battle on the town rooftops between the straw-shoe boy and the mountain-moving ape—which Liu Baqiao had witnessed from afar—he'd returned and given Chen Songfeng an exaggerated account. Chen Dui had been present, so she knew not to regard Chen Ping'an as an ordinary town youth.
In the end, Chen Songfeng became the one holding everyone back. The distinguished young man of a powerful clan enjoyed composing poems atop heights and seeking strange sights in hidden places, but compared to the other four, he fell far short. Chen Dui was a martial arts expert. Liu Baqiao was a sword cultivator who, among all qi-refining practitioners, placed exceptional emphasis on tempering his physical body. As for the pair of youths, they had toyed with a mountain-moving ape whose physical form was extraordinarily formidable.
The mountain path was difficult.
Especially after spring rain, the mud was slick and treacherous. Add the frequent need to cross streams and clamber over rocky ledges—Chen Songfeng's mouth went dry, and he sweated profusely.
Even after Liu Baqiao shouldered Chen Songfeng's book-box, the young man still panted like an ox, his face drained of color.
At one point, Chen Ping'an asked Chen Dui whether they should slow down. Chen Dui shook her head.
When the group had to wade upstream through a stream, Chen Songfeng stepped on a mossy stone, lost his footing, and tumbled into the water. He emerged drenched and wretched.
Chen Dui stopped and turned to look. Though she said nothing, her expression darkened.
Liu Baqiao hurried back to help Chen Songfeng to his feet.
Chen Songfeng apologized: "I'm fine. Don't worry about me—I can keep up."
Chen Ping'an simply removed his basket and set it in a hollow between the rocks: "Let's rest a quarter-hour."
Ning Yao had no objection. She crouched near Chen Ping'an, and with nothing better to do, she pressed her palms against the blade-hilts of her knife and sword, pushing gently. The scabbards' ends tapped lightly against the green stone—tap, tap—keeping rhythm with the stream.
Chen Dui said firmly: "Press on!"
Chen Ping'an shook his head: "When entering the mountains, don't burn through all your strength at once. Let him rest and adjust. Once he gets used to the pace, he can keep up. It's not that he lacks stamina—his breathing is simply disordered."
When it came to traversing mountains, crossing streams, and navigating wild terrain, Chen Ping'an was a consummate expert.
Unexpectedly, Chen Dui didn't listen to Chen Ping'an's explanation at all. She turned directly to Chen Songfeng: "Go back to town."
Chen Songfeng's face was a mask of bitterness. He looked at the unyielding young woman, then turned to Liu Baqiao: "Then I'll have to trouble you to carry the book-box."
Liu Baqiao flared in anger. He tore the book-box off and flung it at Chen Dui: "I'm not serving anymore!"
Chen Dui's expression remained flat. She caught the box, slung it onto her own back, and said to Chen Ping'an: "Let's go."
Chen Ping'an considered, then took two bamboo tubes from his basket and tossed them gently to Liu Baqiao: "For the road back, in case you get hungry."
Chen Songfeng quietly urged Liu Baqiao to come along. Liu Baqiao held the bamboo tubes and sneered: "I won't suffer this insult. I'm heading back with you. Once we reach the bureau, I'll order a table of fine wine and dishes—big fish, rich meat! Much more comfortable than this."
Chen Dui turned and resumed walking.
After shouldering his basket, Chen Ping'an felt uneasy. He looked at Liu Baqiao and asked: "Do you remember the way back?"
Liu Baqiao smiled: "I remember."
Chen Ping'an nodded and departed with Ning Yao.
The three figures ahead receded into the distance. Chen Songfeng simply sat down on a rock with a bitter laugh: "Why must you be this way? Building a bond of kinship with the Yingchen Chen clan would benefit both you and the Wind-Thunder Garden. Why act on impulse?"
Liu Baqiao opened a bamboo tube, revealing snow-white rice balls. He grinned with delight: "Still, Chen Ping'an is the decent one. He's earned his place as my good brother."
Chen Songfeng knew Liu Baqiao's temperament and didn't press further.
Chen Songfeng mocked himself: "The scholar is of no use whatsoever."
Liu Baqiao grumbled: "I should have asked Chen Ping'an to leave a tube of pickled vegetables."
He seized a rice ball and bit into it, mumbling through his mouthful: "You're wrong about something, though. Mr. Qi of the town—well, naturally, and his teacher as well—were both formidable."
Chen Songfeng's eyes grew distant: "What do you think Mr. Qi was trying to do?"
Liu Baqiao answered lightly: "Heaven knows."
Chen Songfeng shook the water from his soaked outer robe and sighed: "What a fine 'heaven knows.'"
---
By the creekside shop, Liu Xianyang had fallen asleep again.
Ruan Qiong sat at the bedside, his gaze grave.
The tall youth's breathing was long and drawn—which would be one thing—but the key was that each exhalation resembled mountain mist or lake vapor, white and gauzy. It didn't dissipate on the wind but gathered gradually around the nose and mouth.
In the end, across the youth's face, there coiled a white flood-dragon no more than three inches long.
Dream as the sword furnace.
A single breath completes the immortal sword.
Ruan Qiong rubbed his chin in admiration: "So he walks the path of destruction and rebirth—every aperture shattered, every barrier broken. The body is utterly ruined, but the sword is forged."
"Capable of both forging and practicing the sword—no wonder this scripture is so coveted. Sleeping is cultivation; dreaming is cultivation. The great dao beckons."
Ruan Qiong stood and mocked himself: "I shouldn't have agreed to lend you to the Yingchen Chen clan for twenty years."
---
Three carriages climbed the seemingly endless mountain road.
At last they reached the summit.
Song Jixin and Zhigui stepped down from the carriage and stared at each other. The mountaintop was a vast, flat platform. At its center stood two stone pillars, but between them, water seemed to flow—a shimmering barrier through which one couldn't see what lay beyond. Before the boy and girl stood what resembled a celestial gate.
The girl's eyes were fixed upon the gate.
Song Jixin walked instead to the mountain's edge, gazing at the panoramic view of mountains and rivers. His heart soared.
Great Li's prince, Song Changjing, was wrapped in a fox-fur cloak. His face was pale, but his spirit was remarkably high. He walked to Song Jixin's side and smiled: "This Lizhu small chiliocosm, situated on the Baoping Continent, is one of the thirty-six small chiliocosms. It's not known for its vast territory—only a thousand li in circumference."
Song Changjing didn't turn his head. He simply raised a hand and pointed behind them toward the great gate: "Pass through that gate, then descend along the cloud-ladder for roughly thirty li, and you'll be standing on Great Li's soil. At that point, you might not be able to see much when you look back, but you'll understand one thing—this Lizhu small chiliocosm was actually suspended in the sky..."
Song Changjing paused: "A pearl."