Yao Qi had a miraculous brain. It was a pity he hadn’t gone into playwriting.

Back at the Latent Cultivation Temple, if Xi Ping so much as gave him an extra look, he could automatically plot out over a hundred twists in his mind: if Xi Shiyong was glancing at him for no reason, he must be planning to make mischief; Prince Zhuang’s evil forces would seize on that incident for their own ends. When the fox demon Imperial Consort’s fox demon prince son had the power, he would usurp the throne and take over, and then wouldn’t the Crown Prince, along with the Yao family, be decimated?

With the decimation of one’s family near at hand, no one could be calm and breezy. That Yao Qi had only been scared into some bouts of diarrhea could simply be described as showing great heroic spirit.

This time, Yao Qi and Chang Jun had seen with their own eyes how those evil cultivators had put on spiritual image masks and taken on their own appearances. Even without Ziming-xiong’s “prophetic” mind, you could deduce that those evil cultivators definitely wanted to use their identities to sneak into the southern mines.

They were both perfectly well aware of what their own colleagues’ cultivation levels were. They certainly wouldn’t be able to tell. Wouldn’t those evil cultivators be like vipers in a mouse hole?

Moreover, all of this had been caused by the two of them running away from the southern mines!

Chang Jun clutched his head, feeling that his neck could hardly support the uproar of his thoughts. In his head there was now the suffering at the southern mines, images of the colleagues he usually drank and chatted with dying wrongful deaths, and now himself being condemned, implicating all of his relations…

“No, Hongzheng-xiong,” Yao Qi pointed out when he had listened to his long-winded babbling, “I don’t think the two of us are going to be condemned.”

Chang Jun looked up at him, full of hope, waiting to hear his brilliant escape plan.

“The two of us are probably going to die here,” said Yao Qi.

Chang Jun: “…”

Ziming-xiong had in fact not been body-snatched.

Looking gloomy, Yao Qi comforted him. “I’m used to this kind of thing. It’s nothing.”

Wanting to cry, Chang Jun thought, You’ve even gotten used to being at death’s door.

Yao Qi sat curled up and hopeless in a corner as if he had bowed out of the struggle and was waiting for fate to trample over him. Staring at the inscriptions on the wall, he said, “I’ve spent all my life feeling uneasy, thinking again and again that I was about to die. It’s just come true now… Back at the Latent Cultivation Temple, Luo-shixiong wanted to kill me every day. It was only because of the sect rules that he held back and didn’t do it.”

Chang Jun said numbly, “Luo-shixiong wasn’t that murderous…”

“And there was what’s-his-name,” said Yao Qi, “he left too soon and didn’t get a chance to kill me.”

Chang Jun suddenly froze.

The slight unilateral “grudge” that had once existed between the Xi and Yao families had become a joke as the two respective princes had each found his place.

Concerning the hidden bones, the Latent Cultivation Temple’s stewards hadn’t explained the ins and outs to them in any great detail, but they still dimly knew that Xi Ping had done many things against his own will then. With age, the slight youthful conflict had gone. While Yao Qi didn’t often mention Xi Ping, when he did occasionally bring him up, he calmly said his name instead of using a label of childish hostility like “what’s-his-name.”

Why had he brought this up again? Had he been scared out of his wits?

Automatically, Chang Jun looked in the direction Yao Qi was looking and suddenly found that Yao Qi’s grim gaze was focused on nothing other than an inconspicuous inscription in an out-of-the-way place.

A fireproofing inscription routinely used by established foundations.

Back when Xi Ping had still been a mortal, in order to keep the evil cultivator from snatching his body, he had ordered the half-puppet who lived with him to steal an activating inscription from the fireproofing inscriptions at the Yanhai Building and use a tinderbox to ignite it—in order to keep other ignorant people from imitating him, the Latent Cultivation Temple’s official report had omitted this detail; only those who had been in the Qiu courtyard at the time knew.

“I really did quite dislike him… I can’t say clearly now whether it was my family’s influence, or whether I just plain couldn’t stand his mannerisms. I’ve thought sometimes, he and I actually have similar backgrounds, but he became the Flying Jade Peak’s only disciple in the inner sect. As for me, I’m hardly worthy of being among the dregs at the southern mines. I don’t even qualify to travel with the spiritual stone convoys. Are people really so different?” Yao Qi slowly turned his head and said to Chang Jun, “I’ve always wondered, if I were in his place, would I have dared to do what he did?”

“Yao Ziming?” The Latent Cultivation Temple’s Luo Qingshi listlessly raised his cat’s eyes.

Luo Qingshi had first been knocked silly by the steam donkey and then besieged by a gang of established foundations. He had been carried back to the Latent Cultivation Temple. Though he had taken elixirs now, he was still having difficulty sitting upright. He was leaning against two straw children, exerting all his willpower to receive his guest, making him look even more displeased—especially when he’d found out that the uninvited guest Xi Ping was already an ascended spirit.

Luo Qingshi was doubting everything he knew: could it be that the reason his cultivation had stagnated was that he wasn’t wicked enough?

The Latent Cultivation Temple was at the edge of the Xuanyin Mountains, only a couple of steps away for an ascended spirit. As soon as Xi Ping had found that he had lost contact with Yao Qi, he had immediately run out to the outer sect—the Latent Cultivation Temple had the outer sect disciples’ name tokens.

Xi Ping thought he couldn’t remember him, so he said, “Personal name ‘Qi,’ from the class of the twenty-eighth year of Tai…”

Luo Qingshi waved a hand impatiently. His feeble drawl was even lengthier than usual. “Cut the crap, I know who Yao Ziming is. He was single-handedly responsible for fertilizing the spiritual fields out back for a whole year.”

Xi Ping: “…”

Then Luo Qingshi took a key from his mustard seed and tossed it towards the door. When the key fell, a building comparable in height to the Qiankun Tower rose steeply from the ground.

“The name token store. All the outer sects are there,” Luo Qingshi said indifferently. “Call whoever you’re looking for yourself. If you can’t get him, he might be dead.”

Xi Ping cautiously asked, “Might be?”

Luo Qingshi raised his eyebrows. “It also might be because you’re useless.”

Xi Ping really did seem to have matured. He didn’t get angry at all. He said mildly, “I understand. The disciple name token is imprinted with the disciple’s own spiritual image and connected to his feelings. What you mean, Luo-shixiong, is that if Ziming-xiong himself really doesn’t want to see me, his name token will also be in a hurry to avoid me.”

Luo Qingshi rolled his eyes heavenwards.

“No wonder you’re having me call it, Luo-shixiong. It turns out that you aren’t being unhelpful. You’re worried that Ziming’s name token won’t dare to come out… What’s to be done? I’m not that close to him, either.”

As he spoke, Xi Ping walked up in front of the outer sect disciple name token store and touched it, seeming a little fretful.

Luo Qingshi watched, waiting for him to make a fool of himself. Sneering, he said, “Let’s have a look at the methods of an ‘inner sect master’…”

The veins on the back of Xi Ping’s hand suddenly stood out. That consciousness far more concentrated than those of ascended spirits of similar grade came pelting down right onto the tower. This could be described as “the strength of one overcoming the skill of ten.” The several-zhang-high tower was instantly pressed down to only three chi high. It trembled beneath the “great evil cultivators”’s hand; had it had legs, it would have knelt.

Xi Ping gently tapped on the forehead of the auspicious animal on top of the tower and said mildly, “Yao Qi, Yao Ziming, born in the twelfth year of Taiming, entered the Latent Cultivation Temple in the twenty-eighth year. Is his name token here?”

No sooner had he spoken than the tower itself hastily spat out a name token, not caring whether the name token itself was willing or not. Then it returned to the key without demur and scrambled back to Luo Qingshi.

Luo Qingshi: “…”

Xi Ping bent down and picked up Yao Qi’s name token, which was trying to flee after the key. Seeing that the name token had abundant spiritual energy and was even quite vigorous, he knew that Yao Qi himself was also doing just fine. He relaxed, then casually smiled at Luo Qingshi. “Fortunately I have plenty of brute strength—and also, Luo-shixiong, according to Xuanyin’s rules of precedence, you ought to be calling me ‘shishu.’ But it’s all right, I’m not particular, we can each say what we like.”

When Su Zhun heard the news and rushed over to Chengjing Hall, he saw Luo Qingshi, who hadn’t even been able to sit upright for long periods before, fly up red-faced from anger on his sword and even roar powerfully, “Xi Shiyong, you’ve let power go to your head!”

Su Zhun turned pale with fright when he saw the situation. “Luo-shixiong, take it easy and give your wounds time to heal, haste makes waste, you mustn’t take medicine too strong for you to handle!”

Luo Qingshi flew into a rage. “You’re the one who’s been taking medicine!”

Xi Ping stepped lightly onto the needlepoint top of a slender bamboo tree, like a leaf moving on its own. He “dutifully” saluted Su Zhun. “Elder Su, my shizun sends his regards and asks after your health.”

“I’m pretty well, and grateful for his concern,” Su Zhun said falteringly, hand pressed to his chest. “I suppose your shifu has quite a few white hairs now?”

“He’s in fine health. Set your mind at ease, Luo-shixiong hasn’t taken any harmful medicine, he was just so overwhelmed with joy at seeing me that a miracle took place.”

A talisman flew towards him. Luo Qingshi said, “That’s—bull—shit!”

An established foundation talisman was like being tickled. Xi Ping didn’t even turn his head. He waved his hand, and the talisman stopped in midair and warped. Xi Ping collected the spiritual energy from the talisman like coiling string. As soon as he touched it, he knew that Luo Qingshi’s wounds weren’t serious. He was only exhausted from draining his essence, and there was a knot in his heart puzzling him; his Way of the Heart wasn’t very steady.

“Luo-shixiong is worthy of being the Latent Cultivation Temple’s guide. It’s been many years since I’ve seen such an accurate talisman.”

“I’ll show you some more accurate talismans!”

“Hey, come down here and talk it out, gentlemen! Have a heart, come back to earth, sit down… Luo-shixiong, think of your health!”

Xi Ping ran all around the courtyard taking Luo Qingshi for a stroll, clearing out his essence. Seeing the gloom on Luo Qingshi’s face dispersed by vigor, he at last abruptly restrained his mischievous grin.

He landed in front of Chengjing Hall and saluted Luo Qingshi almost solemnly. He said, “I’ve seen quite a few sages over the years. Sages know everything under heaven, and each of them indeed has their own way. Only their ways are different, like fleeting clouds to me. Among the immortal mountains, of those who have passed on teachings to me and dispelled my doubts, there have only been two and half people…”

Luo Qingshi, panting, heard these last words and thought this rude brat was once again playing dirty. He was just about to get worked up.

Xi Ping realized what he had said and quickly backtracked: “You’re one, my shizun is another, and there’s another senior who, because I was born too late, I was unable to meet in life, so I can only count her as a half.”

Luo Qingshi finally realized that he was actually in total earnest. He was slightly stunned.

Xi Ping shook Yao Qi’s name token. “As I see it, half of the Xuanyin Mountains’ dignity is held up by you, Luo-shixiong.”

Then he saluted and asked to be excused. When he was just about to leave, he heard Luo Qingshi call him back. “I’ve heard that the ‘way of death’ has no Way of the Heart. Is that true?”

Because of the unique method of the hidden bones and being crushed to dust, the immortal mountains usually called Yuan Hui’s ungovernable way the way of death.

Xi Ping laughed, silently acknowledging it.

Luo Qingshi was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, “Then you are very fortunate… Ah, the heart is a servant to circumstance…”

Xi Ping gazed at him briefly—on learning that Luo Qingshi had openly rebelled against the “heavenly edict” from his Way of the Heart and sent Zhi Xiu a message, Xi Ping had known that his Way of the Heart must be even more contrary to his nature than Princess Duanrui’s. A person of the orthodox way rebelling against his Way of the Heart was just like Yu Chang rebelling against his spiritual image brand, a terrifying mortal combat held in silence.

So Xi Ping didn’t pick up the topic he had raised with his “you are very fortunate.” He glanced north. “Sooner or later, the day will come when the shackles will be destroyed. Take care of yourself, Luo-shixiong. Wait and see.”

He vanished where he stood, then sent Zhou Ying a message: “In the current battle, a struggle over the southern mines is unavoidable—our country’s mines have already been infiltrated by evil cultivators, and the other countries’ mines aren’t necessarily clean, either. That Sword Slave or whatever is a stranger in a stranger land. It’ll be hard for her to avoid getting caught up in things. If shed skin sword cultivators come to blows, won’t that harm heaven’s order? It would be better for them to be in the open while we stay in the shadows. If someone sows discord, we’ll pretend to have a falling out, lure out all the evil cultivator forces in the Land of Turmoil. How does that sound?”

Zhou Ying responded very quickly: “Which side has struck so quickly?”

Xi Ping considered. “I think it must be the Queen Mother of the West. Her name is Yang Wan, a former inner sect disciple of Lancang, an ascended spirit medicine cultivator and descendant of Southern He’s imperial family.”

Yao Qi hadn’t received the second Heavenly Question; there were two explanations for this: either the Heavenly Question he had received before had been discovered, and the southern mines had requested a master to come and block Heavenly Questions; or he himself had been locked up.

The likelihood of the former wasn’t great.

Yao Ziming had been narrow-minded when he was young, and there was no saying whether he had improved now that he was older, but while he might be timid, he had always been highly wary of others. Just on that point, it was impossible that he had no ideas of his own. Even if he hadn’t trusted the anonymous Heavenly Question, he still wouldn’t have been so stupid as to tell others about it. The Heavenly Question was the Xuanyin Mountains’ most highly encrypted communication immortal tool. As long as Yao Qi wasn’t stupid enough to show it off himself, it would be very hard for others to become aware of it.

As for the latter…

When Empress Dowager Zhang had ordered Empress Yao to send Yao Qi a letter through a downgraded immortal tool, it had been like making an announcement to the southern mines. She knew that no matter what the state of the fight among the four big families, at this moment crucial to the survival of the immortal mountains, everyone’s standpoints would be unanimous. The southern mines’ people wouldn’t have attacked Yao Qi.

Then there was only one possibility: Yao Qi had trusted him, hadn’t listened to his sister, and had run off, not expecting to be possessed by the god of misfortune and captured along the way.

Had those who caught him been people from the other immortal mountains, they ought to have notified Southern Wan’s mines—there were Luwu around the mines who were disguised as traveling merchants, always mingling in that area, and they had yet to hear of the mines “losing” anyone.

So most likely it had been a force of evil cultivators that had captured Yao Qi and sent one of their own to pass themselves off as him to sneak into the mines. Had Yao Qi fallen into Wangge Luobao, Yu Chang, or the Emperor of the East’s hands, he would be dead. Those three, the dregs of society, were each more ruthless than the next. If they had caught a young half-immortal disciple, they would certainly have brought out the works—soul-searching and silencing.

Only Yang Wan, who had come from an orthodox sect, would hold back, avoid indiscriminate slaughter.

Xi Ping had hung around the Land of Turmoil for eight years. While he hadn’t had direct contact with the Queen Mother of the West, A-Xiang had been with her all along. And the Emperor of the East had always been furtively keeping an eye on the Queen Mother of the West’s every move—was there anyone on earth who could understand a person better than an ex-husband driven by bitter hatred?

In fact, there was: the vulgar sapling who had been eavesdropping outside the windows of both the ex-husband and the concerned party.

If it was Yang Wan…

Xi Ping said, “What a sword cultivator fears most is an untraceable poison miasma. My guess is that that will be the Queen Mother of the West’s first move. San-ge, convey that to Northern Li as a show of our good faith in working together. If my guess is wrong…then we’ll give you to Northern Li as collateral. With your talents, if you spend a few years herding sheep in the Beijue Mountains, you’re certain to bring the Kunlun Mountains tumbling down.”

Zhou Ying ignored him. He picked up a cup of tea being warmed on a specially-made heater to warm his hands.

Right now, the Land of Turmoil was unbearably stuffy, Great Wan’s Jinping was going from the end of summer to the beginning to autumn, and in the Beijue Mountains, the hoary winds had already begun to blow.

Flying Jade Peak was also a snow-capped mountain, but that kind of cold was nothing to a cultivator. It would only chill their flesh a little. With spiritual energy to protect them, it wouldn’t feel unpleasant. But the north wind blowing from the unpeopled Beijue Mountains seemed to want to freeze your very essence. Cultivators below an ascended spirit would freeze to death overnight if they hadn’t brought a special warming immortal tool.

In precise Northern Li language, Zhou Ying unblushingly bragged to the Crown Prince Snow Wolf in front of him, “The Land of Turmoil is Demon Country, with three great ascended spirits and hundreds upon thousands of evil cultivators under them, including those who cleaned out the Lancang Sect’s secret arts in Qiu Sha’s hidden realm. Some are in collusion with Chu and Shu. They will be hard to guard against. Apart from the Luwu, no one can get a handle on these people’s movements.”

The Crown Prince Snow Wolf—the Blind Wolf King’s heir—hesitantly scrutinized this young man… Southern Wan’s Prince Zhuang of the First Rank, an “infant” who had only set foot in the cultivation world a few years ago.

“As far as I know, your esteemed nation’s Luwu are only a group of open-eyed cultivators from common backgrounds. They were established less than twenty years ago.” From top to bottom, the only part of the Crown Prince Snow Wolf that curled was his hair. His words were as straight as a cudgel. “The waters are muddy in Demon Country. After two hundred years, the four nations’ mining encampments still do not dare to say they have ‘cleared the water.’ Do not boast.”

There was one good thing about the way of clarity, and that was that it would show no weaknesses under the scrutiny of an ascended spirit sword cultivator showing off his talents—never mind his gaze; even if the Snow Wolf really had pulled his sword, Zhou Ying would still have been as unmoved as a mountain, carrying his magic trick of getting something for nothing through to the end.

He unhurriedly drank a few mouthfuls of crude tea, scalded the warmth back into his lungs, then calmly said, “Beware of poison miasma—that is our show of good faith. Future information won’t come free. Take me to see the Blind Wolf King, and recommend me to the Kunlun Mountains.”