Five days had passed. As the sun dipped toward the western horizon, Chen Ping'an finally ascended Ao Tou Peak, a towering summit proudly marked on the new official map. This peak stood alone like a solitary blossom, soaring high into the clouds over dozens of miles. Chen Ping'an gnawed on a hard, dry biscuit while perched on an ancient pine branch that jutted beyond the cliff's edge. The crisp breeze swept his hair wildly at the temples.
The wicker basket lay abandoned beneath the tree; Chen Ping'an was not yet bold enough to climb while carrying it. In earlier days, scaling mountains had been merely a taxing chore, something to endure while keeping pace with Old Yao. Now, fatigue compelled him to pause and truly savor the distant green hills and clear waters. Many breathtaking scenes that once left him in awe had been forbidden by the Great Li Court, forcing him and the taciturn elder to detour—Ao Tou Peak was among these forbidden places.
Along the journey through mountains and rivers, Chen Ping'an witnessed countless unfamiliar majestic vistas: cascading waterfalls layered like silk veils, each rainbow glimmering faintly after the rain, as if within reach to gather and treasure; precipitous cliffs teeming with countless birds clustered like curtains of white snow; narrow, perilous paths that led finally to broad rocky plateaus, where the view opened wide enough to steal one's breath away. At night, wrapped in a cloak, he would lean against his basket and drift into drowsy sleep, as if hearing the murmured whispers of celestial beings.
After three more days trekking through rugged terrain, Chen Ping'an arrived at Shenxiu Mountain, spoken of by Master Ruan. To the northwest, about ten miles apart, stood Chao Deng Mountain and Heng Shuo Peak, forming a triangular stance with Shenxiu Peak—like three colossal giants guarding their domains. According to the map, within a hundred-mile radius around these peaks rose five other mountains, large and small: the modest Caiyun Peak and Xian Cao Mountain; and the grander Dengxintai, Huanghu Mountain, and Baolu Mountain.
Before reaching Shenxiu, Chen Ping'an had visited Xian Cao and Huanghu. Though Xian Cao was only slightly larger than Zhenzhu Mountain, its verdant growth was remarkable, with towering ancient trees. Huanghu Mountain, named for a small lake nestled midway up its slope, appeared yellow from afar but was crystal clear upon closer view. Yet, apart from the lake, Chen Ping'an found it far less impressive compared to the majestic Shenxiu Mountain below.
Chen Ping'an spent four days wandering around Heng Shuo Peak, eventually selecting three mountains—Xian Cao, Baolu, and Caiyun. Xian Cao was the smallest, Baolu the largest, and Caiyun the highest. Baolu Mountain consumed most of his time; its vastness and the depth of clouds and waters rivaled only the grand peaks of Piyun and Shenxiu among those he had traversed. Yet he wondered why Master Ruan, despite Baolu's size and proximity to Heng Shuo, preferred Dengshan to Baolu. Even a layman like Chen Ping'an could feel Baolu's pure mountain air and clear waters.
Estimating his expenses, Chen Ping'an reckoned the three chosen peaks would cost around forty-five golden copper coins, leaving thirty-six remaining. Zhenzhu Mountain would consume one welcoming spring coin, leaving thirty-five coins—enough to lavishly purchase a truly significant mountain. Master Ruan had once confided that first-tier mountains like Kuquan Range, Xianghuo Mountain, and Shenxiu only required twenty-five to thirty golden copper coins each.
Master Ruan also revealed that within a thousand-mile radius, the Great Li Court would soon consecrate one Mountain God, three Mountain Deities, and a River God. The following day, Ruan's wife elaborated: a Mountain God was a court-appointed figure, possibly a famed local historical figure or a valiant warrior who died for the nation. The emperor's special endorsement, sealed with vermilion brushwork, entered the sacred mountain registry. Following a solemn incense offering, it symbolized the celestial sovereign's mandate to patrol the mortal realm. Afterwards, the Astronomical Bureau would produce golden edicts inscribed by the Imperial Tutor and bury them at the mountain's foot. Finally, officials would commission a gilded clay statue for the Mountain God's temple, granting the deity the right to receive villagers' offerings, protect the mountain's realm, and subdue wandering spirits.
Chen Ping'an harbored no illusions that a Mountain God would settle over the three peaks near Shenxiu. His hopes rested instead on the grandest mountain he purchased with the greatest expenditure. If that solitary mountain, far from the others, could be graced with a Mountain God's presence, he would rest easier. As for Zhenzhu Mountain, worth only a single welcoming spring coin, he doubted anyone else would covet it.
Now, seated on the great rocky cliff atop Caiyun Peak, Chen Ping'an spread out the freshly drawn Dragon Spring topographical map. Though he had memorized the mountain names and their locations thoroughly, he remained indecisive about purchasing the final peak. The straw-shoed youth rested his chin in his hands, brow furrowed deeply, rocking slightly back and forth. His thoughts wandered across endless distances.
What purpose did owning a mountain truly serve? Chen Ping'an had no clear answer. Yet the thought that he would remain the acknowledged lord of five mountains for three centuries filled him with quiet joy. He could marry, establish a household, and pass the legacy down through generations. Marriage, though not urgent, now merited serious contemplation.
At this thought, a sheepish grin spread across his face. Leaning back, drowsiness overcame him. After some time, he awoke with a pounding headache. Was it possible to dream so vividly in broad daylight? This was the third time he had encountered that figure clad in white: once on the covered bridge, once beneath the stone arch, and now atop the mountain. The tall white-clad figure, bathed in radiant light, sat cross-legged barely twenty feet away, yet Chen Ping'an could not discern his features.
Weary of constant fear, Chen Ping'an summoned his courage and spoke cautiously, "Esteemed elder—"
Suddenly, a sharp sting struck his face as if whipped by a cow's tail. Startled awake, he sat upright in his original seat. The surroundings were unchanged, but his cheek still throbbed painfully. Chen Ping'an scratched his head in bafflement, unable to fathom the cause.