Chapter 121: The Joyous Wind

After more than two hundred miles of waterway along the Embroidered Flower River, the journey was peaceful and smooth. When Chen Ping'an and his companions disembarked from the boat, both Li Huai and Lin Shouyi had their book boxes strapped to their backs, and together with Li Baoqing, their academic travels became increasingly genuine. As a result, the barefoot boy appeared more like a young servant in a wealthy family. If one did not witness it with their own eyes, it would be difficult to imagine that this same boy was a martial artist capable of defeating the martial secretary of a county magistrate of the Great Li, who was carried off the boat in a stretcher, unable to put up any resistance.

Before disembarking, Chen Ping'an had carefully examined the topographical map and decided not to pass through Wanfeng County, intending to skirt around the city to the south. Beyond it lay towering mountain ranges, which he estimated would take over half a month to traverse. He had asked the locals aboard the ship, and although there was a mountain path, it was far more difficult to traverse than the paved road of Qidun Mountain. No carts could pass through it; only donkeys and mules could carry goods. If they avoided the mountain path, they would have to pass through a county city. Lin Shouyi said he had not yet comprehended the Pure Yang Talisman's method and could not conceal the innate corrupting Yin energy of the Yin spirit. Thus, it would be difficult for the Yin spirit to enter the city openly. According to A Liang, the local temple of the city god, the martial and civil temples, and the residence of a general, would likely all reject the Yin spirit due to its innate nature. If a master was present, complications could easily arise.

While traveling, the group inquired about the road, and Chen Ping'an tentatively asked the local peasants and women whether there were any strange legends about the mountains or if mountain ghosts ever appeared. The locals, seeing that the four children were young and carrying book boxes, assumed they were scholarly youths from a noble family out for a mountain excursion. They laughed and told Chen Ping'an that the mountains and waters there had no particular names, and they had never heard of any spirits or supernatural occurrences. Most of them also recommended the Embroidered Flower River's River God Temple, claiming that divining and praying there was very effective, and perhaps there was indeed a River God. Every year, the county magistrate would lead people to perform rituals by the river, setting off firecrackers, creating a lively atmosphere.

The group entered the mountains at noon. Li Huai stood at the foot of the mountain, bent low, and made three deep bows. When he looked up and saw Chen Ping'an unmoving, he asked curiously, "Chen Ping'an, last time at Qidun Mountain, you bowed to the mountain god, but this time you're being lazy?"

Chen Ping'an hesitated before replying, "I used to go into the mountains with an old man. He taught me a bit about reading the land and the terrain. When the old man was in a good mood, he would talk about the mountain's features and where the mountain god might have placed his statue. There's a certain method to it. You can get a sense of whether there's a mountain god watching over a place by observing the terrain. Since the locals here say there are no such beliefs, it's safe to say this mountain path is not under a mountain god's domain."

Lin Shouyi's thoughts stirred slightly as he said, "The Yin spirit elder said that the spirits of the mountains and rivers of a dynasty are limited in number. There cannot be spirits everywhere; otherwise, it would cause chaos and disrupt the flow of the dynasty's fortune. As for the conflict between mountain and water spirits, it's much like disputes over land and water sources between the mountains and the people below. If a dynasty's master is in charge, the spirit can't easily intervene. Therefore, according to the local county records, any mountain temples that aren't specifically documented will not house any mountain gods."

Li Huai sighed, "Ah, I was hoping for more painted wooden puppets."

After all, in Qidun Mountain, he had unexpectedly obtained a lifelike painted wooden puppet, which had piqued his interest. He could hardly wait to find more, hoping that by the time they reached the Dasi Academy, his little book box would be filled with them. Otherwise, his bamboo box would only contain one puppet and a book—too poor and shabby.

Lin Shouyi smirked, "You've got some nerve to call Chen Ping'an greedy!"

Li Huai looked innocent, "I never said that. I just said Chen Ping'an is a man of noble wealth, earning it through righteousness."

Lin Shouyi snorted, "Flatterer!"

Li Huai fumed, "If I hadn't begged so hard, would you have your little book box, Lin Shouyi? Where's your conscience?"

Li Baoqing scolded, "Enough!"

When there was no one around, Chen Ping'an would practice stance training, but with the heavy backpack on his back, he didn't dare make too much noise. He tried to conserve his strength and movements, walking slowly, for A Liang had once taught him that the essence of the "Eighteen Stops" technique was the word "slow." Chen Ping'an was currently stuck between the sixth and seventh stop, unable to progress. This was just the right time to practice his stance from the Shaking Mountain Fist manual.

After about two hours of mountain path walking, Li Huai was already gasping for breath, and Li Baoqing was no better. Chen Ping'an knew this was the limit of their stamina, and he chose a small stream to rest by. Lin Shouyi, however, as expected of a celestial being who had one foot in the mountains, was calm and unhurried. Only a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead showed any sign of exertion, and he was only slightly less energetic than Chen Ping'an.

They each found a spot to sit. Chen Ping'an took out Li Baoqing's knife, the narrow blade called "Xiang Fu" by A Liang. Though A Liang had once referred to it as "padding," Chen Ping'an wasn't blind; he could tell that this knife was extraordinary. So, whenever no one was around, he would carefully take out the small Dragon-Slaying Platform that mysteriously appeared, using it to sharpen the blade carefully. After drawing the blade, he dipped it gently into the dark, glossy Dragon-Slaying Platform and slowly began to sharpen the blade, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as though he were handling the most precious and fragile porcelain. Chen Ping'an enjoyed concentrating on a single task, especially when he could excel at it.

It was similar to when he reached a wide open space, high above, where he practiced stances with the sword furnace. Chen Ping'an felt at ease, and when he withdrew his focus, a sense of clarity would wash over him, mixed with a hint of regret. He would wish to master the next moves in the fist manual with ease, to fuse them all into one swift, powerful movement—just like when A Liang left the Pillow Inn, rising like a rainbow.

But whenever that impulse struck, Chen Ping'an would silently practice his stance, suppressing the restlessness within, reminding himself not to rush, but to stay calm. If one hastens too much, it's like making porcelain—too quick and it will crack, making all the effort futile.

Occasionally, when he couldn't focus during his stance training, Chen Ping'an would take out the old maps of Kanzhou County. By chance, he came across three prescription papers carefully hidden away—handwritten by the young Taoist named Lu. Ning, who had seen the handwriting, said it was dull and uninteresting, the kind of writing scholars use. However, Chen Ping'an now found himself taking out those papers, reading them occasionally, and finding that they helped calm his mind.

Little Li Baoqing, who had washed her face, now had strands of hair clinging to her forehead. After walking so far in the sun, she had darkened considerably, and her forehead, now bare without the hair covering it, appeared exceptionally smooth and fair. Li Baoqing liked watching her master, Chen Ping'an, concentrating while sharpening the knife. The way the narrow blade moved over the Dragon-Slaying Platform, it seemed as though there was no one else in the world but him. She could never get tired of watching. Of course, she liked watching him practice stances, too, and when he used his fists to reason with others, or when they practiced characters together—she liked those moments as well. She liked it, loved it, liked it more, and loved it the most.

But of course, there were times she didn't like it, though she would forget quickly. However, at this moment, she suddenly thought of the Pillow Inn in Hongmian Town and the letter she had sent home. The little girl's mood turned somber.

Chen Ping'an noticed the change in her mood and asked with a smile, "What's wrong? Is something bothering you?"

Li Baoqing sighed, "I wonder how things are at home. My second brother is so bad. Will my eldest brother be bullied by him in the future?"

Chen Ping'an responded seriously, "Let's deal with this matter first. I will definitely confront your second brother in person about the matter with Zhu Lu trying to kill me. But that said, your second brother should be good to you. He's not a bad person to his sister."

Li Baoqing frowned, "How could Zhu Lu do this? How could she? She

made my life so miserable."

At this point, a group of people passed through the mountain path, carrying rations on their backs. A quick glance at them showed their shoulders filled with bundles. Seeing these travelers, Chen Ping'an was suddenly struck by a thought. Would they be able to inform the local authorities, or better yet, tell the Emperor about their journey through the mountains? Would they even recognize the group as travelers from the famed Zuo Jin Poetry Association?

The rest of the group had already quietly dispersed, leaving Li Baoqing still staring at the narrow path ahead.