Beneath the imposing archway of the government office, Chen Duan engaged in lively conversation with the little girl from Zhengyang Mountain, sharing tales of extraordinary people and curious anecdotes from far and wide. The girl listened with rapt fascination, clicking her tongue admiringly:"Sister, you truly know so much."
Chen Duan smiled gently."When you grow up, you'll come to understand many things as well."
Song Jixin half-jokingly remarked,"Usually, I think you're quite a normal person."
The woman raised a slender brow and inquired,"Do you mean to say that before Prince Song Changjing of the Dali domain, one must bow their head submissively and act with servile humility?"
Song Jixin laughed heartily, pointing at Chen Duan."Miss, if Master Qi from our little town's academy overheard you speaking like that, he would surely furrow his brow. You see, what you said is a false dichotomy—utterly unreasonable. It sounds plausible at first, but upon scrutiny, it falls apart. What I truly mean is this: you need not fawn over Song Changjing, nor should you act so servilely. But after all, Song Changjing is the greatest local tyrant of Dali and a foremost martial arts grandmaster. As an outsider, isn't it only proper to show some courtesy to the head of the household you are visiting? Why must you put on such a sour expression, pretending to be some dignitary? And then, after acting so, you get half-beaten by Song Changjing and still dare to utter threats in his presence—I honestly don't know what to say to you."
He then pointed at himself and self-deprecatingly added,"Even someone like me, with a sharp tongue and ill temper, knows how to read the situation and choose the right approach."
Chen Duan hesitated for a moment before replying,"It's probably a case of similar souls repelling one another. I, too, am a martial artist. Honestly, I've never held much respect for the warriors from your Dongbaoping Continent. But in the end, I was proven utterly wrong—grossly mistaken."
Song Jixin expressed surprise,"You're remarkably candid."
Chen Duan said calmly,"A true martial artist recognizes no authority but the fist."
Suddenly, Song Jixin posed a sharp question,"You outsiders who come to this town seeking treasures and opportunities, your principles seem quite different from ours. Is it because your fists are stronger?"
Chen Duan shook her head with a smile,"There's no need for me to explain. Once you leave this town, you will soon become like us. When you one day embark on the path of cultivation, you will naturally understand. Otherwise, no matter how much I explain, you won't comprehend."
Song Jixin sighed,"To become like you—that sounds terribly dull."
The little girl quipped playfully,"Then come visit Zhengyang Mountain; it's quite entertaining."
Song Jixin tousled her hair casually,"Alright."
Chen Duan turned and instinctively tensed. Across the archway stood the Dali prince clad in white robes with a jade belt, addressing Song Jixin,"Return to Nipíng Alley and prepare to depart."
Song Jixin smiled,"So it's time to leave home."
The little girl reluctantly asked,"To leave home, do you carry a well with you?"
Song Jixin laughed heartily, rising,"Come on, let me escort you back to the Li family residence—that's called seeing things through."
Taking the girl's hand, Song Jixin headed toward the government office's gate, glancing back,"No assassins lurking on Fulush Street outside, I hope?"
Song Changjing chuckled,"That depends on your neighbors."
Song Jixin pursed his lips, looking up as dark clouds gathered with rain threatening to fall. His mood instantly soured.
After sending Tao Zi of Zhengyang Mountain home, Song Jixin was surprised to find Song Changjing standing beneath the ancient locust tree. He hurried over, curious,"In such a hurry to leave?"
Song Changjing nodded,"Received urgent news. Something's happening outside that requires my personal attention. I'm taking the carriage straight to Nipíng Alley to pack and leave."
Song Jixin glanced toward the office entrance—three carriages stood ready, likely the boy's first time riding in one. He bent and sat inside the foremost carriage, Song Changjing following, sitting cross-legged.
Song Jixin looked around; the carriage was bare, save for a simple woven grass cushion beneath him—far from the lavish grandeur he had imagined, let alone anything breathtaking. This disappointed him; he had hoped to see Zhi Gui's astonished reaction upon boarding.
The rhythmic clatter of hooves rang crisply on the bluestone street as the three carriages rolled out of Fulush Street. Song Changjing lifted the curtain, gazing at the town outside. From now on, the Dali dynasty would permanently lose nominal control over this small haven.
Yet, reflecting on the past, it was precisely the great profits from this little sanctuary that had propelled Dali from a secluded minor fiefdom into the largest secular dynasty in northern Baoping Continent—unrivaled. This thousand-mile realm of rivers and mountains, this small paradise, would henceforth only be found in the secret histories of the Dali imperial palace.
Song Changjing collected his thoughts and casually asked,"Aren't you going to bid farewell to Chen Ping'an?"
The road outside Fulush Street was rough, and the carriage gently rocked Song Jixin. He shook his head,"Whether that guy survives is uncertain. What if all that's left is a corpse? Disgusting. Chen Ping'an is an orphan now, and even his good friends are dead. Does that mean I, his neighbor, must handle his affairs?"
Song Changjing hummed in acknowledgment.
Song Jixin inquired,"The little girl from Zhengyang Mountain mentioned someone named Ma Kuxuan from Xinghua Alley, roughly my age. Apparently, he sold the refuge of Chen Ping'an and the girl to Zhengyang Mountain for a bag of support money. Do you know what kind of person he really is? I had always heard he was a fool, but he seems to hide himself deeply."
Song Changjing pondered,"The assassin who infiltrated the Song family and attempted to kill the Sui prince in Qilong Alley had left some clues linked to a youth named Ma Kuxuan. Over the years, that criminal assassin, once a prisoner, met with Ma Kuxuan repeatedly in secret—it's possible they share a master-disciple bond. With Zhenwu Mountain's intervention, the matter was shelved, as many disciples of Zhenwu are within the Dali military, holding high ranks."
Song Jixin smiled,"Uncle, even you have things you 'can only' do?"
Song Changjing shrugged,"Who told you I'm still a Dali prince with an irreducible burden?"
As the carriage neared Nipíng Alley, Song Jixin casually remarked,"Chen Ping'an—is he really just Chen Ping'an?"
Song Changjing chuckled,"Before relocating you there, the office thoroughly investigated. Chen Ping'an's ancestry is clear for eighteen generations—no connection to wealth or power. What, did that Chen Duan scare you? Don't worry, I've roughly discerned her identity. Her Chen clan has no relation to Chen Ping'an's branch in town, so rest easy. The only tenuous kinship might be with the Chen clan in Longwei County, where Chen Songfeng resides—but after centuries without contact, can they even be called relatives? Moreover, the local Chen clan has fallen so low that only one person remains who is not a servant. Poor in the bustling city, rich relatives hidden in distant mountains. You've read some books—don't you understand this?"
Song Jixin remained unconvinced,"What about the eighteen generations before that? Was there no prodigious figure among them? Not a single one?"
Song Changjing smiled,"So you wish Chen Ping'an had an extraordinary lineage?"
Song Jixin candidly nodded,"If he were unlike ordinary folk, I'd feel better."
Song Changjing grew curious, teasing,"What did that boy do to you to make you so obsessed? But from what I know of him, he doesn't seem like a…"
Song Jixin cut him off with a cold sneer,"Small-town people may have narrow vision and shallow minds, but don't mistake them for fools. Some are pure and kind-hearted; others, wicked to the core; and some are hopelessly stupid and evil."
Song Changjing looked even more perplexed,"And which kind is Chen Ping'an?"
Song Jixin sighed, frustration clear,"He's none of those. He's truly a fool. That's why I feel so stifled."
Ning Yao crouched before the bench, carefully studying Chen Ping'an's peaceful sleeping face, her heart filled with awe. Such supernatural ability—indescribably marvelous. His peculiar sleeping posture radiated an air of innocent simplicity from head to toe.
Though unable to fully explain, Ning Yao's innate intuition was exquisitely sensitive to the quality of any magical art.
Turning curiously, she asked,"Are you really Chen Ping'an's guide on the cultivation path?"
The elderly man puffed on his dry tobacco pipe, legs crossed, gazing at the gloomy rain outside. He chuckled,"Cultivation? Is this what they call cultivation? What, now there's another qualified founder claiming to establish a sect outside? Causing a ruckus in the outer territories? Ha! I only serve to lead those not belonging to the spirit path into the kingdom of mountains and rivers."
Ning Yao looked incredulous,"Is it that Chen Ping'an doesn't belong to the spirit path? Then where does he belong?"
The man's smile froze, a sudden chill in his eyes. His gaze pierced the dim light like a blade, focusing intently on the sleeping youth.
"Where? Where else but the land of the dead?"
The candle flickered violently as the man leaned forward. His voice dropped to a whisper,"From the beginning to the end, Chen Ping'an has always been a ghost."