“The evil cultivators are in the South Sea. When you take to the sea, do your best to head for the shore of the East Sea, don’t approach the west,” Xi Ping said in a message to Wei Chengxiang. “Those beast-taming Shu have too many aquatic spiritual beasts. Your field of vision will be limited in the sea. Except as a last resort, don’t go into the water. Keep an eye out for information from Hongzheng and Ziming.”

“To tell you the truth, we can just run off ourselves if we hear a stirring. Our so-called ‘goods’ are only old grain stocks,” Wei Chengxiang said with a somewhat bitter laugh. “In such a tumultuous world, everyone is busy striving for power. Who has the free time to fool around killing a dog by the road? We’ll be jumping barefoot into the water. If we run into those great personages head on, it’ll be a loss for them to so much as give us a second look. Apart from you, no one would take us seriously.”

“Stop grumbling, it’ll be your luck if the great personages pay no more attention to you than to a fart. Are you all right on your own?”

“Dandan is helping me purchase old ships, and the mustard seeds for storage are ones I laid in years ago. They should be enough for storing mortal articles. If it really won’t do, we can turn to the black market and think of something. These low-level open-eyed grade storage mustard seeds aren’t expensive. Each village has a visionary in charge. Everyone is being very cooperative.”

In the underground of the Southern He Peninsula, the deformed descendants of master craftsmen had dug out passageways leading in all directions, connected to the inhabited villages on the surface. Underground, they stored provisions and exchanged information; a set of leaders had even emerged naturally, called “undoubting visionaries” in the He language.

The only point of similarity among the “undoubting visionaries” was their age.

The usual lifespan of the Turmoilers was around twenty years; their intellects were generally weak. A longer lifespan meant that they had been born stronger and healthier, and their intelligence was greater as well. Virtually all the parents of these “extraordinarily gifted” people had done hard labor in the mining areas and had scrounged some amount of nourishment from spiritual energy. If they were lucky and encountered neither natural nor man-made disasters, they could often live past forty.

A mortal who lived past forty became free of doubt; a forty-year-old Turmoiler had sampled all the world’s bitterness and became an “undoubting visionary”—for example, Li Manlong.

The immortals could easily spend decades or centuries in seclusion. Except when they had nearly reached the end of their lifespans, the passage of time had absolutely no meaning for them. A hundred years passed in the blink of an eye. Their expressions and temperaments might as well have been welded in place; there wasn’t the slightest alteration to them. Their Ways of the Heart were even more immobile.

But the lives of the Turmoilers were reckoned by the day, by the shichen. The visionaries frantically exchanged all their extra time for knowledge. After several generations rising to pick up from the ones who had gone before, they even had an wavering, limping tradition; they had preserved Southern He’s language and craftsmanship techniques intact. So when Wei Chengxiang and Xi Ping had brought them under protection, knowledge had spread like sparks from one village after another.

Each Turmoiler habitation had its “visionary.” The visionaries used reincarnation wood amulets to communicate.

Wei Chengxiang tallied the goods and numbers of people they reported then sent the information out through the reincarnation wood, and under the organization of individual visionaries, they systematically moved house.

An unprecedented mass migration was brewing in silence.

“We can provide for ourselves, you look after yourself, ‘flying goose relay station.’ All our communications rely on you. Don’t drink, don’t go looking for fights. If you go offline, none of us will be able to get in touch with the rest.” After joking with him, Wei Chengxiang added, “Oh, right, what are we doing about the miners?”

“Don’t you worry about it, I’m going to ask Wanshuang. On the off chance it goes well, perhaps you won’t even have to take to the sea and will be able to evacuate via the canal directly.” Xi Ping paused, then said, “This relay station has already relocated to Northern Li’s mining area.”

“What?” Wei Chengxiang was startled. Remembering that earthshaking Wanshuang leaving its sheath, she gave a firm shudder. “Her? She…doesn’t seem very good-natured.”

“At worst I’ll hang myself at her doorstep, shame her with my death.” Xi Ping stood up, smiled at the Northern Li cultivator scrutinizing him warily, and followed the messenger beckoning him into the Sword Slave’s living quarters.

Xi Ping had lived in luxury since birth. He had never missed a meal. On the southern continent, his height was enough to make him stand above the crowd—even mixed in among the northerners, who were each the height of a tower, he still surpassed the average height; but now he had to tilt his head back to look at the Sword Slave sitting in front of him.

The suffocating force that came from her hit you right in the face. Everyone who came into her tent felt themselves become a span shorter out of nowhere, nearly pressed into a crack.

But Xi Ping could see that the Sword Slave wasn’t deliberately frightening him. She was dressed in casual clothes, without armor, and Wanshuang was propped up in a corner. Her manner was relaxed. For her, this probably counted as amiable.

It was the Sword Slave who was taken aback when she saw Xi Ping. “Wow, an ascended spirit?”

Xi Ping: “…”

What had the Blind Wolf King told her?

The Sword Slave muttered, “The Blind Wolf King said you’re the son of a little friend he made among the mortals, that you’ve come here to rescue some people… Who’s your dad?”

“Southern Wan’s Marquis of Yongning,” said Xi Ping.

The Sword Slave clearly hadn’t heard of him. She casually asked, “Marquis of which reign?”

“…The current one,” said Xi Ping.

The Sword Slave stilled slightly, then at last remembered. She sat up straight. Her face couldn’t produce ordinary expressions; it looked fierce in joy and sorrow alike. Xi Ping distinctly felt the weight of her gaze. “So you’re that…that whatchamacallit?”

Wu Lingxiao was supremely haughty. When going south to the Southern He Peninsula, she had half-heartedly learned about the “important figures” of the southern continent just before leaving, and after hearing about them had felt that apart from Zhi Xiu, all the other good-for-nothings were a waste of her time. She’d had a general idea that there was a survivor of the Yang clan in the Land of Turmoil, but as for what she looked like, she could work that out once she was done beating her up. She knew that the Chu and the Shu each had a lead evil cultivator; the southern barbarians’ names were too long, she hadn’t remembered them, and she hadn’t taken any of these clowns seriously… Then there was another one; she hadn’t been able to work out whether he counted as one of Xuanyin’s or an evil cultivator. There were open questions about his connection to a number of events. The most noteworthy point about this person, apart from being Zhi Xiu’s first disciple, was “becoming an ascended spirit after less than ten years of cultivation.”

The Sword Slave had thought that this rumor was nonsense; even a reincarnated pile of dog shit couldn’t have that kind of dumb luck. She had automatically classed him with freaks that had some inhuman blood.

But it turned out that this person was actually a completely standard cultivator.

Xi Ping said respectfully, “I belong to Xuanyin Mountain’s Flying…”

The Sword Slave said, “You’re that disciple of Zhi Xiu’s who grows rotten firewood!”

The northern and southern continents had different climates. The Li couldn’t tell apart the many plant species of the south, so many of them had no corresponding names in the Li language. The ones that were good for timber were generally known as “southern wood,” and the rest were all called “rotten firewood.”

Xi Ping: “…”

He believed now that the Sword Slave was the Blind Wolf King’s very own shimei.

The Sword Slave seemed to have come upon a cat or dog that could recite doggerel rhymes; she suddenly developed a slight interest in him. Because she didn’t think of Xi Ping as a person, she became increasingly loose-tongued, asking without any sense of propriety how he had cheated his way into becoming an ascended spirit.

Had it been a respectable cultivator in his place, this interrogation alone would have caused him infinite shame. Luckily, Xi Ping wasn’t actually a respectable cultivator. Not only did he not think being an ascended spirit was anything to be proud of, he was even quite pleased to grumble about his tale of woe. Tilting back his head made his neck too sore, so he simply abandoned politeness and found a chair with a backrest to lean his head against, thoroughly practicing his Li language on the Sword Slave.

The Sword Slave listened with keen pleasure to her heart’s content, and then, still having something on her mind, delivered her brilliant opinion: “The Sword of the South is done for. If he coddles his disciples like this, he’ll never have a qualified successor.”

Xi Ping waved a hand carelessly. “From time immemorial, what virtuous sage hasn’t been ‘unprecedented and unfollowed’? The blue dragon births a chimera, the phoenix births a peacock, and the weasel’s son is a rat. Why talk of ‘successors’?”

The Sword Slave was startled. Since she had abandoned her human body, people had either trembled with fear before her or been vigilant and restrained. Low level cultivators didn’t dare to look her directly in the face. No one had ever said anything like this.

“Little devil, you’re actually pretty fun.” A creaking laugh emerged from her throat. “The Blind Wolf King said you came to see me because you want to rescue some people. Who? Go on, tell. Apart from Yang, I’ll let you through with anyone for his sake.”

Xi Ping uncrossed his legs. “Senior, I have a presumptuous request to make. Could you permit a flotilla of steamships to enter the peninsula?”

The Sword Slave looked him over with narrowed eyes; she didn’t immediately erupt into fury, only calmly said, “Don’t you think that…you’re a little too bold?”

In the corner, Wanshuang shook gently. The Sword Slave, who had been listening to his storytelling with her head propped on her hand, abruptly raised her eyelids. In an instant, silent and formless yet seemingly omnipresent sword energy was flying past him. A tearing sound came from Xi Ping’s snow-white collar as a hole half a cun long ripped open, right up against the artery on the side of his neck.

Xi Ping was unmoved. “I’m all right. Heaven is jealous of heroes. Too many shed skins have hunted me. Senior, I would like you to issue an order, under whatever pretext you like, expelling the miners and merchants in the Southern He Peninsula—all extraneous personnel. I will ask a number of brave trading companies to unite and send in a flotilla of ships to transport them away as quickly as possible. Ordinary fishing boats don’t have the necessary speed and capacity. Please make this exception, senior.”

As Xi Ping spoke, he took out another letter, this one written in the Blind Wolf King’s own hand, and presented it to the Sword Slave with both hands spread. “Then we will discuss what is written in this letter.”

The Sword Slave raised a hand to summon that letter into her hold. She read it quickly, then didn’t respond for a long time. Wanshuang’s hum became more noticeable.

Then she gave a “ha”; it was as if a reed in her throat had been blown. The Blind Wolf King’s letter broke apart at her fingertips. “Is that so? That’s new… No wonder those little Turmoiler monsters were bowing in the direction of Lancang’s Principal Peak.”

Xi Ping: “…”

Actually, that was another matter.

He gave a dry cough. “Senior, this business…”

The Sword Slave once again roughly and discourteously interrupted him. “Fine, I understand. Send your boats, I’ll give you three days at most. After three days, I won’t permit a single smoke-belching thing to disturb people’s sight and hearing. Make them stay quiet when they come, no horns, or I’ll flatten them on the spot. I’ll be waiting here to see whether the Lancang Mountains will accept a mere ascended spirit as their master—I haven’t had a chance to see Lancang’s Lovebird Sword Array yet.”

Before Xi Ping had come, the Blind Wolf King had given him some pointers: “She’s willing to see you to oblige me. Since she’s obliged, she won’t lightly quibble with a junior. When you see her, say your bit. If she agrees, she’ll do it, and if she doesn’t agree, don’t nag her… If she were the sort to listen to other people’s advice, she wouldn’t be where she is today.”

But after restraining himself for a long moment, he still couldn’t manage to hold back. He blurted out, “Senior, if the spiritual mountains’ divine tool really does emerge, it’ll be of full moon grade.”

The Sword Slave said, “Obviously. So what?”

Xi Ping tactfully said, “Senior, if you’re confident of being able to handle a full moon divine tool, then do you have a way to keep that divine tool from emerging? After all, the Southern He Peninsula is already completely devastated.”

Bewildered, the Sword Slave said, “Haven’t I agreed to let you get the people out? What do you care about the place? Could this damn place get any worse?”

Xi Ping had nothing to say to this.

“I’m a stranger in a strange land. Those evil cultivators are having a good time fleeing here and there. If they want a fight, isn’t that for the best?” The Sword Slave coldly said, “I’d like to see what a full moon divine tool without a master can do to me. What kind of sneaking things are buried under these Lancang Mountains? You’ve brought the news, now go help the needy, don’t get involved in what doesn’t concern you. In the future, I’ll have to come pay a visit to your honored teacher, see whether Zhaoting is worthy of having fame equal to Wanshuang’s.”

Kind words couldn’t persuade someone who was determined to die. It was enough if she remembered his petition.

Anyway, his shifu wasn’t interested in a single stone from the southern mines, and Kunlun’s calculations were doomed to go astray. It was currently unsuitable for Xuanyin to go to war. If others lost their heads fighting, it wouldn’t get in his way. Wu Lingxiao was right. As long as he could get the people out in time, this damn place really couldn’t get any worse. Maybe when the Lovebird Sword Array appeared, all things would wither, and they could get rid of those hateful wildfire vines in the earth. There was no knowing whether it might be a case of no making without breaking.

So Xi Ping stopped fooling around and stood up. “If the Lovebird Sword Array really does appear, could you do your best to keep the battlefield small, senior, to avoid harming innocents?”

“Fusspot. Piss off.”

Xi Ping nodded and lowered his voice. “Then I’ll give you another piece of news, senior, for free—the day before yesterday, Kunlun’s Third Elder, at the Sect Leader’s instigation, saw the remnants of Xuanyin’s Li and Zhang families. I used special means to overhear some information from that gathering. Kunlun is in contact with Southern Shu’s Miah traitor Wangge Luobao. I’m afraid some people won’t be coming to your aid.”

The Sword Slave abruptly froze.

Her face was half bright and half drowned in the shadow cast by a lantern, making her look even more horrifying. After a long time, she finally nodded at Xi Ping. “Understood.”

Xi Ping didn’t say anything more; he took his leave and went. At the same time, he contacted Wei Chengxiang: “The Sword Slave is more good-natured than imagined. She’s agreed to expel the mortals on the Southern He Peninsula and permit merchant steamships to travel on the canal. I sent people to say a word to all the major trading companies. The profit-motivated ones certainly won’t waste their very last chance to collect snow wine, and those moving their own people will also want to take the opportunity to earn some money. The nations’ navies will also come in an orderly fashion to collect their own nationals. When the news gets out, they’ll flock over. Take advantage of the commotion and leave—the Luwu’s ships have ‘upgraded’ mustard seeds stowed at the bottoms of their holds. With spiritual stones to support them, a single ship can hold a hundred thousand people. If it really comes to… Those living inland and on the west coast will travel by canal, those in remote locations on the East Sea coast will take shelter in the East Sea without having to go far. Is three days enough?”

“Plenty…” Wei Chengxiang said. “Will this activity alert the evil cultivators?”

“It’s no problem, the Emperor of the East is behind more than half the snow wine trade,” Xi Ping said. “When the Queen Mother of the West escaped the Sword Slave, he sniffed out that something was wrong. He wants to move and doesn’t dare to show his head. He won’t let this opportunity go by. This time we’ll use him as a shield.”

Wei Chengxiang unconsciously rolled her dice in her palm. “Why did it go so smoothly? Young master, I don’t suppose you prostituted yourself?”

Xi Ping was utterly shameless. On hearing these words, he gave a gusty and complicated sigh and said in an affected voice, “It’s a hard life out there, and we must bow to circumstances beyond our control. Why must you bring up such a painful sore spot? How dreadfully uncivil…”

Wei Chengxiang dropped the reincarnation wood amulet into her mustard seed.

The Sword Slave was never slow in action. She immediately issued a completely unreasonable expulsion order—ever since she had occupied the southern mines, the various obstinate and unreasonable prohibitions had been too numerous to count; everyone was used to it.

Then Pang Jian received a message from Xi Ping and tentatively sent the first merchant ship, which had already been waiting, out onto the water. The steamship, even faster than in the past, braved the winds and battled the waves and reached Southern Wan’s mining area that same night, picked up the traveling merchants and miners who were quickest to react, and simultaneously carried away a large quantity of rock snow.

Once the signal went out, steamships of all sizes vied to be the first. The trading companies that had dealings in the Land of Turmoil were all used to running risks. There were even some people, supposing that the canal would be jammed, who audaciously circled around by the South Sea, instantly cutting Wangge Luobao and his folk off from the Southern He Peninsula.

The Miah cultivator responsible for keeping watch on the Southern He Peninsula didn’t know what had happened. He reported it nervously to Wangge Luobao at once, but Wangge Luobao put down the leaf flute he was holding, and a peculiar smile appeared on his face.

“Clan leader?”

Wangge Luobao stuck up a finger toward him. “The fish is on the hook.”