The lotus stalk went on to burrow into the waterway, trying to spread into the surroundings. When it had only infected a small portion of the aquatic plants around it, it suddenly touched something, and the bronze bells of the Azure Dragon Heart Tower rang in response. A beam of spiritual light flashed, burning away that lotus stalk. 

Almost at once, a walker in the mortal world wearing a stealth talisman appeared beside the Lingyang River, reported his location, and sent a message to Heaven’s Design Pavilion’s head office: “Some filth just disturbed the Heart Tower, I don’t know what, a little like a snake… It’s been destroyed. But there seems to be a tear in the spiritual vein underwater. Please send someone from the head office to have a look."

“Strange,” the walker in the mortal world muttered to his colleague on duty at the head office, carefully avoiding the workers and tourists jostling beside the river, “why have the Azure Dragon Towers been constantly ringing here and there lately, picking out small holes in the spiritual veins? It’s as if someone’s snooping on the city. Who’s biting off more than they can chew thinking they can attack Jinping?” 

“Could be plenty of people. The spiritual stones being two or three times cheaper than in other countries alone is enough to make those evil cultivators go red-eyed and run the risk,” his colleague responded. “Last month, we collaborated with the Yuzhou Department and caught a bunch of Chu wearing spiritual image masks. Didn’t they stop to think who invented the spiritual image masks? Don’t worry, there isn’t a more peaceful place in the world than Jinping.” 

While with people coming and going and machinery roaring, minute tears were unavoidable, it would be absolutely impossible for evil cultivators and foreign spies to make much of these small holes—before, the Dragon Vein had had to wait for the inner sect to send someone to repair it during the year of the Grand Selection. Since the rule that “walkers in the mortal world cannot establish foundations” had disappeared, Great Wan’s Dragon Vein and all the spiritual veins everywhere could be repaired as soon as a flaw was discovered. Jinping’s Dragon Vein had broken, but it had been repaired by the Dignitary of Fate High Elder himself. Unless a shed skin master fell out of the sky, with the whole capital enveloped by the Azure Dragon Towers, not even a single suspicious fly could get in. 

“I hope so. Do the Luwu have a grip on it? How come they’ve been acting like they’ve lost their souls ever since Prince Zhuang left…?” The walker in the mortal world lowered his voice to grumble, “I haven’t even been back ‘home’ for a month.” He exchanged greetings with the colleague who had come to inspect the spiritual vein and returned to the Heart Tower. 

In the South Sea, a Territory Map rubbing one zhang square was spread out over the surface of the water. Zhuoming had just buried himself entirely in that map, spying on Jinping through the rubbing. 

Out of nowhere, the lotus stalks he had left hanging out withered and burned. Wangge Luobao knew that he had once again run into the Azure Dragon Towers, so he gathered spiritual energy in the fingers of one hand, reached into the Territory Map rubbing, and scooped Zhuoming out. 

During the Zhao clan’s rebellion, nearly all the elites who held authority over the Territory Map had met their ends inside the country. From those who had gone into exile abroad, it was hard to reassemble the glory of their ancestor. All the immortal tools that the Miah had turned up were established foundation grade. The Way of the Heart of a cultivator who had died as an established foundation had fewer benefits than a chicken heart, so the Zhaos had used these things like ordinary immortal tools. 

In order to put together this small map, Zhuoming had eaten raw the vital immortal tools of sixty-four deceased cultivators. The most distant owner had died over nine hundred years ago, and the most recent had established a foundation only when the Zhao clan had rebelled and left the country. Even for the Heartless Lotus, this was still a rather tall order. By the end, Zhuoming seemed to have started babbling in incoherent Wan language. 

With profound melancholy, Wangge Luobao watched the lotus stalks tie themselves into knots underwater, feeling that this unhinged associate’s brain had even more screws loose now; he might be about to fall apart. “Are you all right? Take your time, haste makes waste. Why are you always in such a rush?” 

Zhuoming and all the mouths covering his body strove to outdo each other in delivering a lengthy harangue in a language that was a cross between Chu and Wan. 

It was less comprehensible than an ensemble of frogs after the rain. Wangge Luobao, exasperated, pursed his lips and whistled. The sharp whistle usually used to herd gold-armored zheng pierced the Heartless Lotus’s spirit. Zhuoming gave a start, his ears falling into the water from fright. Only after a long moment were they fished out by two dripping lotus stalks. 

“Excuse me, Zhuoming-xiong,” said Wangge Luobao, “could you use language that an ordinary fool like me can understand?” 

“I heard a piece of information.” Zhuoming’s eyes were fixed dead ahead. He spoke with emphasis. “The Kaiming Department’s Zhou Ying. He’s entered the way of clarity.” 

The corner of Wangge Luobao’s eye twitched slightly. 

The mouths on the heartless lotuses opened, ready to wail along with him. 

“Shut up!” Zhuoming berated himself. Lowering his voice, he said, “He still holds power over the Luwu, but the way of clarity is special. A person’s frame of mind will change drastically after entering it. He’s just established a foundation and must avoid trifling matters of the mortal world. A one-of-a-kind opportunity, not to be missed.” 

As he neared the end of his words, his voice, like a kettle about to boil, became faster and faster, sharper and sharper. Eerily, he repeated “A one-of-a-kind opportunity, not to be missed” seven or eight times. The heartless lotuses underwater suddenly erupted. 

Wangge Luobao, hearing the sound of boiling water, was ready. In a flash, he was elsewhere. With a wave of the hand, he created a protective screen for himself and his clansmen behind him, in time to block the tidal wave raised by the heartless lotuses.

The Miah were used to this—they all regarded Zhuoming as a spiritual beast their mighty new clan leader was domesticating. 

Watching Zhuoming acting like a sea monster, some Miah cultivators ran over and asked, “Clan leader, did he eat something bad? Why is he having another fit?” 

“He just heard that a monster like him got something that he’s failed over and over to get.” Wangge Luobao put a finger to his lips. “He’s crazy with jealousy. Everyone, be careful. Stay away from him.” 

But people have different joys and sorrows.

Xi Ping fled in a panic. After escaping from the Latent Cultivation Temple, he headed straight for Flying Jade Peak—he truly had nowhere else to go. 

His parents had grown old. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to control his expression and would upset them. 

Bai Ling wouldn’t be feeling any better than he was. It was better not to see him. 

Of his old friends in Jinping, whether mortals or walkers in the mortal world, all of them had drifted away from him. He wasn’t in the mood to reminisce about that distant past in the midst of their many speculations. 

As for A-Xiang, the young mistress, and Li Queru… All of them called him “Tai Sui.” 

Flying Jade Peak was sealed. The mountain seal could block even the gaze of a shed skin high elder, but before Xi Ping, it was as if it didn’t exist. By the time he came back to himself and remembered that there was such a thing as a “mountain seal,” he had already landed wholly unhindered on the slope amid thickly falling snow. 

There had been no sign of humans on Flying Jade Peak for over a decade. He put down the first set of footprints. 

In that moment, Xi Ping’s heart, blown numb by the stiff wind on the mountaintop in the Latent Cultivation Temple, suddenly sprang a leak. Nearly all his unreasoning sense of grievance spilled out. 

He lowered his head and tightly clenched his teeth. First, he used his consciousness to block the shard of Zhaoting in his spirit off completely. Then, facing the ice and snow at his feet, he manipulated his already frozen features bit by bit, forcing a careless expression onto them. 

“Shizun!” With the cold of the snow-capped mountain, Xi Ping fixed that “high-spirited” expression in place. Stepping on his sword, he rode the biting cold northwest wind. “I’m back!”

The little mustard seed house teacher and disciple had lived in before was still in its original location, buried nearly to the roof in snow. The cottage and yard had vanished long ago, blown somewhere by the north wind. 

Xi Ping followed Zhi Xiu’s aura, searching, using all his strength to pretend that his step and his voice were equally light. “With all the forces of evil running wild in the South Sea, the old bastards took a look and finally thought that compared to them, my crimes weren’t so bad as to merit being broken into eight hundred pieces. They gave me back my name token trying to enlist my services… Damn it, they have the final word in everything. While I can’t overpower them, it really makes me mad to see them, so I’ve come to hide out here with you and curse a little, or else I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself and do something disgraceful on impulse… Hey, I…” 

An astral wind coming out of nowhere swept towards him. At first Xi Ping thought it was shifu chiding him for his insolent remarks and only mischievously dodged a direct hit, accepting the blow like he was used to doing. Only when the wind was right in front of him did he realize with a start that something was wrong. 

Xi Ping abruptly twisted in midair, the protective spiritual light around him flaring up. There was a crisp sound. The harsh sword energy carried by the wind unexpectedly pierced the hastily raised protective spiritual energy, its remnants breaking his hair crown. 

Xi Ping’s hair, loosed from its binding, tumbled down to the backs of his knees, while he himself slanted for several zhang before finally steadying himself in midair—this was wrong; shifu never went all out chiding him. 

With a flash, his figure merged with the wind. At the same time, Zhi Xiu’s voice echoed over Flying Jade Peak: “Shiyong, stay away…” 

But an ascended spirit’s movements were far faster than speech. In an instant, Xi Ping had followed his voice to the other side of the snow-capped mountain. 

Before he could understand what was going on, a constriction that blotted out the sky hit him head on. All the hair on the back of Xi Ping’s neck stood on end. There was no room for him to resist. Something flung him out of the air and down onto the ground. He fell into snow that went over his waist. 

All his senses seemed to be blocked. For a time, Xi Ping couldn’t catch his breath. He felt like a carrot that had been wedged into the earth by a shovel. 

Just then, the almost mournful whistle of a sword tore through the sky. Xi Ping’s whole body lightened. He finally opened his eyes—and was struck dumb. 

With the sword platform where Zhi Xiu often spent time refining his sword aura as a focus, for a hundred li around, on the whole slope, all the protruding rocks had been pared flat. The ground was covered in crisscrossing sword cuts, the deepest of them too deep to see the bottom. 

The sword aura was awe-inspiring. Had Xi Ping not already been an ascended spirit, just one glance at those cuts might have shattered his spirit. 

This was no place for quietly cultivating in seclusion. This was an ancient battlefield, the site of an all-out close combat. 

Xi Ping sucked in a breath… Before the breath reached his chest, he was choked by the frosty northwest wind. 

The nameless heavenly might that had just “planted” him in the ground descended once again. The blood vessels nearly exploded on his temples.

As for what this heavenly might was, Xi Ping was not yet qualified to “hear.” 

It was only that he had never known that the nape of his neck was so soft. No matter what, he couldn’t raise his head. As a so-called “person in the high heavens,” at this moment, each and every one of his joints, every bit of his meridians was firmly pressed down. Never mind bursting out into resistance, he didn’t even have the latitude to take a deep breath and shout. 

The sword light once again stabbed through the oppressive sky. The cold wind suddenly pouring in nearly wrung his neck. He coughed. 

Zhi Xiu’s voice came amid the echoes of the sword’s whistle. He was a little out of breath, but despite this, his tone still maintained its old mildness. “Why are you still standing there like a fool? Go now, while you can. If you want to curse someone, go curse them yourself on the other side of the mountain… Don’t let me hear you cursing my shifu.” 

Xi Ping didn’t move. He turned his face up to the sky. As if his strength were exhausted, he fell backwards into the piled snow. “Shifu, where filial piety is concerned, you can be held up as a model disciple.” 

“Rebellious disciple,” said Zhi Xiu, “go…” 

Before he could finish the last word, a fresh round of heavenly might pressed down on Flying Jade Peak. 

Xi Ping’s pupils contracted sharply. This time, lying on his back, he vividly sensed the blatant attitude of brooking no disobedience. 

This heavenly might wasn’t aimed at him. He only caught the edge of it. Yet Xi Ping could hardly keep himself from starting to tremble. Next, the unruly sword struck the boundless canopy of heaven. The scattering sword energy was tattered by the snow-capped mountain, then brushed past Xi Ping, but he not only didn’t dodge, he couldn’t even bring himself to blink. 

He watched the sword light rise in defiance of the universe’s chaos and be annihilated time after time, fearing neither the living nor the dead. 

Past midnight, the heavenly might became increasingly violent. Zhi Xiu had no more attention to spare for him. Flurries of snow shot up high. Falling for half the night, they buried Xi Ping, who couldn’t move a muscle. 

The sound of stone fracturing pierced through the snow, earsplitting. 

Xi Ping didn’t know how many times he had been knocked unconscious by the shaking. When he awoke, the horrifying heavenly might had temporarily calmed, as if heaven itself had grown weary. 

The dense clouds dispersed over deadly silent Flying Jade Peak, revealing stars and a moon that seemed within arm’s reach. 

Xi Ping’s mind was a blank. It was a long time before he remembered where he was. Next, he gave a start of terror. He couldn’t sense Zhi Xiu’s aura anymore, neither on the snow-capped mountain nor in the shard of Zhaoting in his spirit! 

“Shifu!” Xi Ping panicked. He laboriously “plucked” himself from the snow, then scrambled up, trying to fly his sword into the sky. 

But no matter what grade it was, no sword would dare to pass through this horrifying sword array. Frantic, Xi Ping simply tossed aside the useless piece of metal and climbed up the mountain on foot. He passed through floating ice and was repeatedly sent flying by the remaining sword energy in the sword cut. By the time he came within a hundred meters of the sword platform, he could hardly move forward. 

Xi Ping raised a hand to summon the Tai Sui Qin, planning to force his way through. Before he could strike, his gaze suddenly froze. 

Friendly moonlight fell on the snow. Among the crisscrossing sword cuts, he had seen a small sapling. 

The trunk of the small sapling was snow-white. What ought to have been an upright tree was crooked and bent—it had been broken innumerable times by the wind and snow, even pulled up by the roots. Its root system was spread very far. Only a small portion remained on the surface. There were no leaves or branches, but…it was glowing in the moonlight. It was alive. 

Xi Ping, holding the Tai Sui Qin, slowly knelt. He held his breath, gazing almost piously at that unthinkable sapling. 

After a long time, he tried raising his frozen hands and using the gentlest of melodies to convey spiritual energy. The music of the qin brushed the dusting of snow off the tree. After a long moment, a new shoot grew on the tree. It unfurled in the moonlight, like a fairytale. 

The dim shard of Zhaoting in Xi Ping’s spirit at last showed signs of life. An extremely weary voice said, “…Good child, finally there’s something other than elopements in your head. As your teacher, I am deeply gratified.” 

Xi Ping wiped the snow and water off his face. Shards of ice clung to his brows and lashes. His eyes seemed to flash with a peculiar light. 

“Shifu,” he said softly, as if afraid to disturb that shoot, “what kind of tree are you growing?” 

“Newly born accompanying plants are all ones that did not previously exist in the world. It has no name,” Zhi Xiu said softly, conserving his strength. “What do you think of ‘snow shuffler’?” 

Xi Ping: “…” 

Zhi Xiu laughed somewhat laboriously. “A cheap name means it will be easy to care for.” 

As he laughed, the sapling shook gently. A newly-grown tender leaf fell and flew into Xi Ping’s hand. 

The leaf was very thin, diamond-shaped, somewhat resembling a birch leaf. It was too fragile. Xi Ping held it with his frozen fingers spread apart, not daring to touch it carelessly. 

“Take it as a wellness talisman. The Dignitary of Fate High Elder has been waiting for you outside Flying Jade Peak for a long time. It is rude to make your elders wait,” Zhi Xiu said softly. “Don’t be afraid.” 

“Who’s afraid of him?” Xi Ping scoffed. But his sneer was fleeting. He lowered his head and gazed at that new leaf. He felt desolate. The snow-capped mountain felt even colder to him. “It’s just that I…suddenly remembered what you said to me before I left the mountain back then…” 

Shiyong, the Great Way leads to heaven. There are no family and friends on that road.

“What did I say? It’s been years. I’ve forgotten.” 

Xi Ping: “…” 

Then Zhi Xiu continued, laughing, “It’s not important. I’ve said lots of things. When haven’t you treated my words like the wind blowing past your ears, you fiend?” 

Xi Ping was stunned for a long time. For some reason, the gloom that had been stifling him for several days suddenly eased. 

Once again, he looked at that tender sapling. “Shifu, I think that…it shouldn’t be like this.” 

“What a coincidence,” said Zhi Xiu. “I think so, too.” 

So, bearing a thousand tribulations, they would continue to fight with their backs to the wall. 

The new leaf burrowed into the Tai Sui Qin, leaving a tiny outline below the qin’s name. Zhi Xiu said, “Go on.” 

“Yes, shifu. I have understood the lesson.” 

Xi Ping took a final glance at the sword platform, then turned and flew off—after all these years, shizun had yet to successfully impart knowledge, but he had indeed always transmitted wisdom and resolved doubts for him. 

The rules of heaven said that evil cultivators could not be ascended spirits, yet Qiu Sha had painted the moon red. 

The rules of heaven said that there would be no more accompanying plants after the Great War of Gods and Demons, yet that snow-white tree had sprouted in the spiritual mountains. 

The rules of heaven said that a Way of the Heart was irreversible, that once you started, you could only walk that one path—did it really have to be that way? Did a person really have to be driven and enslaved by a “way”? 

He went faster and faster. In his spirit, from the distant South Sea Hidden Realm, he heard Wei Chengxiang’s voice. 

Two ke earlier, Wei Chengxiang had narrowly dodged a fireball belched out by a spiritual beast, then abruptly swooped down on her sword, lancing into the depths of the dense forest. The carnivorous spiritual beast behind her opened its mouth wide. Its fireball instantly raised dense smoke in the rainforest. The fierce beast’s line of sight was momentarily obstructed. 

Just then, a big crowd of Turmoilers charged out in the dense forest. Each one held a hand cannon that had been turned into a downgraded immortal tool. Li Manlong gave an order, and the spiritual beast, which had just come in firing range of the hand cannons, was shot as full of holes as a sieve. It came crashing down—Wei Chengxiang rolled lithely on the ground, then bounced up. A talisman came flying to snap the big bird’s neck. 

The fierce beast that had been burning the Turmoilers’ domain for the last half month had been killed by them pooling their forces. Wei Chengxiang gulped a deep breath. From midair, she saw those abandoned people hugging each other like a ritual. 

Suddenly, one of the Turmoilers went weak at the knees and fell onto her companion. Wei Chengxiang was startled and quickly leapt down from the sky. 

“What’s wrong with A-He?” She had spent a long time with the Turmoilers and could tell them all apart. She could easily come up with their names. 

The Turmoiler named A-He was surrounded by concerned companions. Li Manlong trotted over to examine her. 

After a moment, he slowly raised his head. There seemed to be tears in his exposed eyes. 

Wei Chengxiang had never seen him with an expression like this. She was alarmed. “Don’t worry, Chief Li, I’ll contact Dandan, have her find medicine in Tao County…” 

Li Manlong interrupted her softly. “Wei-laoban, she’s carrying…our new clansman in her womb.” 

Wei Chengxiang’s eyes opened wide. 

Everyone’s eyes fell on A-He’s skinny, flat lower abdomen. After a moment of utter silence, someone suddenly let out a scream with all their might towards the dense forest. 

This cry called back their souls. They began to stamp their feet and howl. Some smiled stupidly, some wept bitterly—in two hundred years, this was the first child among them who would be born with the nourishment of the spiritual mountains. He or she would escape the curse of the Turmoilers, grow up to be an ordinary person…become what the people of He had been in the past. 

The weather in Shu changed rapidly. A cloud floated over the sky. The Turmoilers hastily raised big plantain leaves, shielding the pregnant woman from the rain. 

Wei Chengxiang raised her head towards the sudden rain and clasped the reincarnation wood hanging from her neck. It seemed as though tears were streaming down her face.