Chapter 128: The Spectacle

With the vengeful ghost in bridal attire no longer haunting them, Chen Ping'an and his companions moved ahead unhindered. A path leading to a mansion meandered through the mountain valley, once wide enough for two horse-drawn carriages to travel side by side. Now overgrown with wild grass and bathed in the chill of dew, it still felt far more passable compared to the desolate journey Chen Ping'an had previously endured, where he had to carve his way through with a narrow sword talisman, one stroke at a time, after breaking through the yellow spring road.

The man whom the bridal ghost had once called the "Sword Immortal of the Land" quietly joined their ranks, yet he did not speak. This sword cultivator from the Snowstorm Temple, who wielded a sword with a calm and distant demeanor, held the reins of a white donkey in one hand, and rested the other on the hilt of his sword as he walked with his eyes closed, his mind wandering.

If the gap between the Fifth and the Sixth Realms was a chasm, then the divide between the Tenth and the Eleventh Realms was akin to an abyss. Even for a Qi cultivator at the Tenth Realm, someone honored as a pillar of the empire below, their path was fraught with decades, even centuries of meditation. And though they might eventually reach the breakthrough moment of "stillness gives birth to motion," their return to the mountain after an arduous descent, often felt like an empty, fruitless endeavor—this was far from rare.

Wei Jin, who had quietly ended the unique breathing technique of the Snowstorm Temple, opened his eyes and turned his gaze to the children familiar with Ah Liang. His thoughts, however, seemed absorbed in the Snowstorm Temple's rituals, for he had not broken through the barrier for many years. He had long neglected to offer a toast at his master's grave, and after hearing Ah Liang's rather absurd little tales, Wei Jin found himself drawn to the idea of the Suspended Mountain, with its two towering peaks separated by a vast chasm. The thought of the wall guarded by sword cultivators stirred his heart.

Wei Jin sighed, a lingering feeling of unfulfilled longing in his chest. Had his physical body stabilized earlier beneath the "Elegant Water, High Wind" plaque, and had his sword intent perfectly merged, there would have been no flaws when drawing his sword. Had he faced the Mo family's wandering swordsman, his strike would have been far more decisive—at least half the sword would have been drawn from its scabbard.

Li Huai, intrigued by the distracted figure of the white-robed immortal, felt both curious and somewhat regretful. He wished Ah Liang were present. He imagined himself slapping Ah Liang's shoulder and saying, "Now, this is what true swordsmanship looks like! You still have a way to go. Look at Wei Jin's entrance—his sword arrived before his body, cloaked in white with a sword aura that made even the ghostly woman tremble. Compare that to you, Ah Liang, with your hat and donkey along the riverbank—can it compare?"

Lin Shouyi, noticing Wei Jin's distracted gaze, realized that the sword cultivator's mind was far from present. The solemn young man, concealing his emotions, adjusted his book box and began reflecting on his own cultivation. Having encountered the unfathomable powers of the bridal ghost and witnessed the transcendent swordplay of two cultivators, Lin Shouyi felt the weight of his journey. His current abilities seemed insufficient, not even worthy of filling a gap.

Wei Jin, returning his wandering gaze, stopped and took a jade tablet from his sleeve. The tablet glowed with a lustrous, sheep-fat sheen. He smiled and said, "I cannot accompany you all the way to Yefu Pass. I must go immediately to Liju Cave Heaven, to sharpen my sword at the Dragon Slaying Platform, to prepare for the journey to the Suspended Mountain. As Ah Liang senior once said, there's a rare battle unfolding in that place, one that I cannot miss."

Seeing no one in the group take the jade tablet, Wei Jin patiently explained, "Though you have an impressive guardian spirit, I want to give you this jade tablet. It is a unique 'Temple Peaceful' tablet from the Snowstorm Temple and Zhenwu Mountain. In case of danger, simply infuse it with true qi and speak a word, and it will fly back to the temple, sending a distress call."

Noticing no one taking the jade, Wei Jin smiled and said, "If you feel safer with me accompanying you to Yefu Pass, instead of carrying this tablet, I will, of course, not shirk my responsibility. But I am merely suggesting, the final decision rests with you."

Chen Ping'an spoke up, "Sword Immortal, you may proceed to Longquan County to refine your sword at the Dragon Slaying Platform. We will accept the tablet. With the protection of the Yin God and the promise of the Great Li court, those three should have appeared near the ghost, though slightly delayed. But they have proven their word."

After a brief pause, Chen Ping'an continued thoughtfully, "I don't believe such a major accident will happen again."

He took the tablet, handing it to Lin Shouyi with a quiet reminder, "Make sure to keep it safe, preferably not in the book box, as it may be inconvenient to retrieve in an emergency."

Lin Shouyi nodded and whispered, "I understand. I will keep it with the other two talismans in my sleeve."

Wei Jin smiled, slightly surprised by the young man's level-headedness. He had already noticed Lin Shouyi's potential back when they were on the street in front of the bridal ghost's mansion. The boy had stepped onto the Bridge of Eternal Life, with vitality abundant and steady—a rare cultivator in the making. Yet, despite this, the boy carried himself with a high and aloof attitude. Why would he remain so humble, especially when it seemed he did not see anything wrong with it?

As for the youngest and most energetic member, the one assigned to tend the white donkey, his fortune was obvious. No need to elaborate.

For Wei Jin, even in his years of traveling alone, there were countless encounters and treasures gathered along the way, which he often shared freely with those who were fated. The few items he had kept, however, were far more precious. And, upon seeing Li Huai's innate talent, Wei Jin knew he had been right to give him a parting gift.

Wei Jin, with a flick of his wrist, conjured five small clay figures, no taller than a finger, each representing a different figure: a sword-carrying swordsman, a Taoist with a dust whip, a warrior in armor, a woman riding a crane, and a drum-beater. He handed them to Li Huai, saying, "These figures are a blend of Yin-Yang techniques, Mo family puppetry, and Taoist talismans. I don't fully understand their mysteries, but if properly nurtured and attuned to your qi, they may come to life. They will need five-element nourishment—fire, water, and so on. Their highest cultivation will be limited by their tiny forms, only reaching the level of a seventh or eighth realm Qi cultivator at best."

Noticing his own slip of the tongue, Wei Jin stopped talking and simply smiled at Li Huai.

The boy glanced back at Chen Ping'an, who quickly nodded. Li Huai then gathered the five clay figures, thinking to himself that, with the painted wooden puppet in his book box, he now had six little companions!

As Wei Jin mounted the donkey, he waved them off with a cheerful, "Farewell, and may you travel well."

Despite Wei Jin's adventurous nature, he was not one to squander his treasures. The road of cultivation was long and uncertain, and the fleeting encounters often made it difficult to tell whether a connection was fortunate or fateful. With his vast experience, he was cautious, knowing that without the right timing, even a treasure could turn into a curse for those who were unprepared.

Chen Ping'an instinctively cupped his hands in respect, unsure of the etiquette. He had first bowed left hand over right on the embroidered river ferry, but seeing the way Wei Jin and the young swordsman of the Snowstorm Temple did it right hand over left, he hastily corrected his posture.

Wei Jin, noticing the boy's awkwardness, chuckled softly and patted his old friend on the back. "Let's go."

The white donkey, stepping forward happily, suddenly turned and nuzzled Chen Ping'an's cheek before continuing on its way. Li Huai had cared for the donkey along the journey, but it was clear that the donkey's bond was with Chen Ping'an, who had silently helped with feeding and keeping it safe.

Wei Jin, still smiling, observed the donkey's affection for its master and couldn't help but feel amused. His reputation as a "Sword Immortal" was clearly no match for the kindness of his old companion.

The world seemed barren, desolate, and endless. The only thing left was an imposing, unyielding city wall. Even from hundreds of miles to the south, it could still be seen towering high above, with eighteen immense characters carved into it by sword qi, visible from afar. This spoke to the grandeur of the letters and the awe-inspiring height of the wall.

Far to the south, beyond the Great Wall, a mighty horn blast sounded, echoing across the heavens as if it would shatter the very sky. Shadows gathered in dense clusters, and as the horn sounded, sparks ignited, eventually merging into a blazing inferno. From the northern heights, the sight was nothing less than a brilliant sea of fire.

From atop the wall,

they could hear the faint clatter of hooves and shouting, signaling the onset of battle.