Sword of Coming

Sword of Coming

While making his way down from the mountain summit, Chen Ping’an decided to put on the Hundred Eye Taotie Dao robe after a brief hesitation.

Golden Sweet Wine was too eye-catching, and he had exchanged Hundred Eye Taotie for a normal robe earlier as a precautionary measure, concerned that wearing a Dao robe while traveling along the length of the great river would attract unnecessary attention. However, he had since changed his mind.

At the moment, he was at the Willow Tendon Tier, which was often a difficult obstacle to bypass for vagrant cultivators like himself, and in wearing a Dao robe, he would be able to absorb spiritual energy from heaven and earth at a faster rate.

The Peony Prefecture was the largest prefecture of the Sacred Lotus Nation, and there was a strong scholarly culture there. Chen Ping’an had purchased quite a few miscellaneous books from the bookshops in the prefectural city, which included one particular book of note that had been gathering dust for many years up to the point of Chen Ping’an’s purchase.

It was an anthology containing the agricultural encouragement edicts released by the Sacred Lotus Nation at the start of spring each year, and it was quite an interesting read, and Chen Ping’an had read carefully through the edict during his travels.

Chen Ping’an briefly visited all of the noteworthy locations in the Peony Prefectural City, then rented a room in an old inn in the prefectural city.

After entering the Peony Prefecture, he had intentionally begun suppressing his Dao robe from absorbing spiritual energy in order to avoid attracting the attention of the city god pavilion and the scholarly and martial sage temple.

In reality, any Qi refiner, particularly ones of the Middle Five Tiers, was bound to attract some attention while traveling through mortal empires and the mortal world.

However, generally speaking, it was not against the rules for them to take in spiritual energy from the environment around them, and as long as they didn’t overdo it, to the point that the spiritual energy in an area was excessively overdrawn, then the mountain and river deities in those regions would generally turn a blind eye to them.

That night, Chen Ping’an lit the lamp on the table in his room, then began flipping through the anthology of agricultural encouragement edicts once again. Shortly thereafter, he closed the book and began to meditate.

Just because he wasn’t using the Taotie Dao robe to take in the sparse spiritual energy in the prefectural city didn’t mean that he couldn’t cultivate. Cultivation was more than just absorbing spiritual energy. In addition to that, the condensation and refinement of spiritual energy in one’s key acupoints were also a foundational undertaking in one’s cultivation.

At the moment, Chen Ping’an’s two bonded items had given rise to mountains and rivers in his inner small world, and he had to refine them so that they developed phenomena akin to mountain roots and water fortune. To put it in simpler terms, Chen Ping’an had to refine his spiritual energy to bolster the foundations of his water palace and mountain shrine.

However, the amount of spiritual energy that Chen Ping’an had accumulated up to this point was nowhere enough to fill his acupoints to complete saturation, so his top priority now was to find a place with no owner that was abundant in spiritual energy. However, that was not an easy task, so another option was to settle for cultivating in seclusion for a few days at an immortal inn like the Dragon Head Ferry Station of the Green Oriole Nation.

Alternatively, he could also refine immortal coins directly into spiritual energy to be injected into his acupoints, but at the moment, Chen Ping’an was still yet to even fully refine all of the spiritual energy he already had, so introducing additional spiritual energy would be a waste.

The lower one’s cultivation base, the slower their rate of absorption of spiritual energy, and the spiritual energy contained in immortal coins were extremely pure, which meant that it would dissipate very quickly. This was similar to how once a precious talisman was activated, if it couldn’t be resealed in a timely fashion, then it would quickly be reduced to a piece of worthless scrap paper.

While it was true that Chen Ping’an’s Dao robe could temporarily retain the spiritual energy from refined immortal coins, that would conflict with the illusion technique cast onto the Dao robe, defeating his objective of keeping a low profile.

Essentially, every cultivator was the god of their inner small world, able to preside over those small worlds like sages.

The key factors were the size of the territory of the small world and one’s degree of control over said small world. The act of cultivation was actually no different from an army seeking to expand its territory.

Ultimately, one’s powers and cultivation base would be determined by how many abodes they managed to establish in their inner small world. These abodes varied in quality, just like the buildings and rooms of the real world, and of course, the finest abodes were blessed lands.

After entering a state of immersive meditation, Chen Ping’an first paid a visit to his water palace. He could easily pass straight through the walls of the palace on a whim as if the rules of this world didn’t apply to him, and in reality, that was indeed the case as he was the embodiment of the rules of his inner small world.

However, he decided to stand outside the door and wait, and two tiny green-robed children quickly opened the door before bowing to their master with joyful looks on their faces.

At the moment, the water seal and the water fortune mural served as the two foundations of Chen Ping’an’s water palace, one major and one minor. The green-robed children finally had something to do, and clearly, they were very happy about it.

They much preferred being able to toil away all day rather than having to sit around and twiddle their thumbs. In the past, whenever Chen Ping’an entered his inner small world, the green-robed children would gather before him in a neat row, looking up at him in silence with dissatisfied expressions.

They were very hard-working children who took pride in their work, and it had been truly saddening to them that they had ended up with a master like Chen Ping’an, who cared so little about cultivation.

However, things were completely different now. The interior of the water palace was a busy and bustling sight, with the green-robed children rushing back and forth with glee, reveling in their newfound work.

Chen Ping’an had benefitted immensely from his trip to Verdant Bamboo Lake. Aside from those rivulets of exceptionally pure and rich water fortune that he had received, he had also obtained a vial of water pills from the lord of Verdant Bamboo Lake.

The green-robed children in the water palace had split themselves up into two groups, with one group channeling their innate mystical abilities to send wisps of green water fortune flowing incessantly into the slowly revolving water seal.

Meanwhile, the other group of children had somehow managed to manifest tiny writing brushes for themselves, and they dipped their brushes into the pond before rushing to the mural, meticulously adding strokes to the existing mural to make it more vibrant and spectacular. At this point, they had already illustrated numerous river gods the size of grains of rice on the mural, accompanied by river god temples that were slightly larger.

Chen Ping’an could tell that these were river deities and temples that he had personally visited over the course of his journey. Among them was the Burial River Goddess’s Green Roving Residence, which had since earned itself the prestigious title of the Green Roving Palace.

However, the river deities and their accompanying temples on the mural were still just lifeless objects that were yet to have life breathed into them, and they were not as lively and vibrant as the mighty river illustrated on the mural.

Chen Ping’an was standing beside the pond, and he looked down at the water fortune flood dragon within, which had been transported into the pond by the green-robed children. The flood dragon was slowly swimming along, alive and well, and the green-robed children had chosen not to kill it and refine it into water fortune.

Additionally, there was also another phenomenon of note, this one concerning the vial of pills given to Chen Ping’an by Lake Lord Yin Hou. Somehow, the green-robed children had managed to refine all of those pills into what appeared to have been a green jewel, and regardless of where the little flood dragon swam to in the pond, the jewel continued to hover beside its mouth as if it were an extension of the flood dragon’s body.

After lingering for a while longer, Chen Ping’an decided to pay a visit to the mountain shrine. All of the green-robed children turned to him with bright smiles and raised their little fists in encouragement, as if they were telling him to keep up the good work.

Chen Ping’an didn’t know what to tell them. The higher the caliber of water fortune, the more precious it was to the water deities of the world, so it was far from easy to find or purchase. Even if he were to offer a water deity an exorbitant sum of immortal coins beyond what their water fortune was worth, they would still likely be reluctant to accept his offer.

Water fortune concerned the foundations of the Great Dao for all water deities, and outside of exceptional circumstances, it was not something that they would be willing to part with.

After leaving the water palace, Chen Ping’an made his way to the mountain in his inner small world. The mountain resembled a blessed land, and as Chen Ping’an stood at the foot of it, he looked up to see a five-colored cloud swirling up above. The mountain itself resembled a body of dense, dark gray mist, and it was still rather insubstantial in appearance, far inferior to the water palace on a visual basis.

However, what was quite encouraging was that some vibrant white rocks had begun to appear at the foot of the mountain, and those were the hard-earned fruits of Chen Ping’an’s diligent cultivation since leaving the Dragon Head Ferry Station, but there was still a very long way to go until he could cover the entire mountain in these white rocks.

Sword Immortal Chen Qingdu of the Sword Qi Great Wall had been able to immediately conclude that had Chen Ping’an’s bonded porcelain not been broken, then he would’ve possessed earth immortal aptitude.

Both Golden Core Tier and Nascent Tier cultivators were considered to be earth immortals, but Chen Qingdu hadn’t made any further elaboration, perhaps because both were no different in his eyes.

Hence, Chen Ping’an wasn’t going to grow proud and conceited, nor was there any need for him to sell himself short.

Chen Ping’an knew that if this water palace and mountain shrine had been present in the inner small world of someone like Qi Jinglong, a true prodigy who shouldered the fortune of an entire continent, then they would only be even more spectacular.

However, the unfortunate truth was that not everyone could be a prodigy, and for every generational talent in the world, there were countless mediocre cultivators to balance things out. If Chen Ping’an didn’t have even this much mental fortitude, then he would’ve already had his spirit as a martial artist crushed on the Sword Qi Great Wall, and his mental state as a cultivator would’ve also been completely pulverized.

Had that happened, he would’ve been left in a state not much better than having his bridge of immortality snapped again. Just because Chen Ping’an possessed earth immortal aptitude didn’t mean that he was guaranteed a free ride to the Golden Core Tier. In order to fulfill his potential, he had to find a method of cultivation most suited to him.

As the saying went, comparison is the thief of joy, so competing with others was bound to be an eternally unfulfilling way of life.

In contrast, competing against oneself was much more satisfying and would also lead one to make constant improvements over time.

With each mistake that was made, as long as one could learn from them, those mistakes would be akin to flowing water over a riverbed when looking back. Even if the impact of those mistakes was impossible to erase from one’s mind, as long as the riverbed still existed, there would be no danger of a flood.

This was the general gist of mental cultivation, and it ensured that even in the face of the most testing of obstacles and tribulations, as long as one didn’t die, their Dao Heart wouldn’t crumble. One’s mental state was a reflection of oneself, and even if there were a tiny crack on the surface of that mirror of self-reflection, the overall image would not be ruined.

Chen Ping’an had once been afraid of becoming a cultivator, just as he had been afraid that he and Gu Can would become the very same type of people that they once detested the most, such as the people who had almost beaten Liu Xianyang to death, the drunken man who had kicked Gu Can in the stomach, as well as the likes of Fu Nanhua, the mountain-moving ape, Liu Zhimao, and Jiang Shangzhen.

Chen Ping’an had even been afraid of the theory of context raised by the old abbot of the Observing Dao Temple. He was worried that if grew accustomed to assessing the world using the theory of context, then he would slowly come to forget the Scholarly Sage’s theory of sequential order.

However, as it turned out, none of the principles of the Three Teachings and the Hundred Schools of Thought were anything to be feared, as long as one remained grounded and took things one step at a time. The only thing that was to be feared was the mistake of believing that one already knew something when they actually didn’t.

When one’s eyes are truly opened, they will see the light.

This was a phrase that Chen Ping’an had thought of after waking up from a nap on the mountain summit, and he had carefully inscribed it onto a bamboo slip.

Chen Ping’an had inscribed many phrases from books that he had read onto bamboo slips, but there were very phrases that he had thought of himself and deemed worthy to occupy a bamboo slip.

After leaving the five-colored mountain shrine, Chen Ping’an made his way to a pass.

There was a torrential wave of sword qi raging against the pass like an almighty army, but the pass remained as indomitable as ever.

This was the final pass of the Eighteen Stops Technique.

Chen Ping’an sat with his legs crossed on the summit of a mountain off to the side, silently observing the clash between the wave of sword qi and the impregnable pass for a long while.

After that, he visited the two sword tombs, which were where First and Fifteenth were being refined.

In the real world, the two flying swords were as tiny as toothpicks, but in the two acupoints in Chen Ping’an’s body, they were the size of mountains, hovering upside-down with their tips pressed against the stone slabs formed by Dragon Slaying Platform.

The entirety of the two acupoints were filled with flying spars from the swords grinding against the Dragon Slaying Platform, and even though Chen Ping’an had already witnessed this spectacular sight, he still couldn’t help but feel moved every time he saw it.

If these two flying swords could appear in such a mighty form after emerging from his acupoints and returning to the Majestic World, then his enemies would surely be left trembling in fear and awe.

Chen Ping’an withdrew his consciousness from his acupoints, then emerged from his inner small world altogether.

There was actually one more place of cultivation that he could’ve visited, but it made no difference whether he went there or not because it was all himself, and he could get a clear glimpse of it at any time even without entering his internal small world.

After opening his eyes, Chen Ping’an gently exhaled, then closed his eyes again as he focused on his breathing techniques and began to slowly refine the spiritual energy in his water palace and mountain shrine.

Before long, first light had already arrived, and Chen Ping’an ceased his spiritual energy refinement, then practiced his walking meditation for two hours before paying for his room and leaving the inn.

There were no immortal inns in the Peony Prefecture, nor were there any large immortal sects in the Sacred Lotus Nation. Even though the Sacred Lotus Nation wasn’t a subsidiary nation to the Great Origin Empire, all of the past and present emperors and officials of the nation revered the scholarly lineage of the Great Origin Empire to the point of borderline blind idolization.

In this regard, it was actually quite similar to the Great Li Empire of old, in which almost all scholars blindly revered the scholars of the Lu Empire and the Great Sui Nation. Regardless of how exceptional the writings of the local scholars of the Great Li Empire were, those writings would still be considered crude and unsightly unless they were given the seal of approval by the literati of those two nations.

A young scholar of the Lu Empire had once arrogantly declared that a poem he wrote using his foot would still be better than the finest work written by the uneducated savages of the Great Li Empire.

It was said that the arrogant young scholar spent all his time getting drunk in the capital of the Lu Empire, disillusioned by the lack of recognition of his talents. At some point, he encountered the Great Li Empire’s forces, led by Song Changjing, and no one knew exactly what had transpired during the encounter, but at the end of it, he had become an administrative official of the Great Li Empire.

From there, he went to the Imperial Hanlin Academy in the capital of the Great Li Empire, where he was tasked with writing the historical records of the fallen Lu Empire. Enclosed within those records were chapters detailing the life stories of the renowned heroes and traitors of the empire, and he included his own life story as the final chapter in the traitor section, then apparently hung himself.

Some speculated that Imperial Preceptor Cui Chan despised the young man, and that he had killed the young man in secret after the latter completed the historical records he had been tasked with writing, then staged his death as a suicidal hanging. There was also another rumor surrounding his death.

The young man had spent his entire life unable to secure a spot for himself in the Lu Empire’s officialdom, and after becoming a historian for the Great Li Empire, he made sure to only write about the heroes of the fallen Lu Empire at night. During his nightly writings, he would drink incessantly, and it was often the case that he would work himself up into a raucous frenzy in the dead of night.

In contrast, all of the traitor chapters were written during the day, which, apparently, was his way of exposing these traitors to the light of day and having them burn under the righteous light of the sun. While writing these chapters, he would throw up blood into the empty wine cups, and in the end, it was said that he died from ill health brought on by the weight of his grief and reckless drinking.

There was an immortal ferry station in a nation that neighbored the Sacred Lotus Nation, and there was a route specifically dedicated to the Dragon Palace Small World. The route passed through the vast majority of the scenic locations that lined the great river leading into the sea, and it made frequent stops to accommodate sightseeing trips for its passengers.

This was actually primarily a sightseeing route, and immortal transactions were only regarded as secondary in importance. If it weren’t for his run-ins with Yang Ningxing and the Lofty Cloud Palace, Chen Ping’an would’ve definitely visited this renowned small world.

The Dragon Palace Small World was owned by three parties, two of which were the Yang Clan of the Great Origin Empire and Sword Immortal Li Cai’s Duckweed Sword Lake.

Given Chen Ping’an’s connections to Duckweed Sword Lake, he should’ve been able to visit the Dragon Palace Small World without having to fear for his own safety, but favors like these should be conserved as much as possible instead of being redeemed for no just cause.

Exchanges of favors between normal friends was necessary, but one had to be able to return their favors at anytime, and at the moment, Chen Ping’an didn’t feel like he had the ability to repay any favors to Zhu Quan of the Flax Robe Sect or Li Cai of Duckweed Sword Lake.

As for Qi Jinglong, he was an exception.

Chen Ping’an left the Peony Prefecture in an uneventful fashion and began slowly trekking toward the neighboring nation with Sword Immortal on his back and his bamboo hiking pole in his hand.

In the end, he never encountered the scholar that referred to himself as Lu Dun.

This was often the case in life. Separations after chance encounters often proved to be permanent farewells.

Chen Ping’an was walking on the path of cultivation.

As was everyone else.