Chen Ping'an cast a glance at the unbidden guest's green bamboo scabbard hanging from his waist, feigning puzzlement as he inquired, "A swordsman?"
The man, one hand gripping a bamboo hat, the other lightly tapping the hilt, smiled gently and replied, "For now, I cannot find a sword worthy of me, so I must make do with this, using it to shame all blade-wielders under heaven."
Hearing that somewhat familiar tone, Chen Ping'an felt a wave of relief, believing Liu Baqiao could likely forge a good friendship with this man.
Behind Chen Ping'an and Li Baoping, the father and daughter walked side by side. The young girl, Zhu Lu, showed a hint of disdain and sneered, "The Dragon King yawns and claims he can swallow a river—what arrogance! Father, is this fellow mad?"
Zhu He, noticing a silver-white wine gourd the man carried on his other side, palm-sized and polished to a gleam, clearly an aged relic, whispered cautiously to his daughter, "Though I detect no extraordinary aura, just a subtle lingering energy beyond ordinary men, we must remain vigilant. Though I have never ventured far, our ancestors spoke of many tales from the jianghu. They advised caution around Taoist nuns, old monks, children, and drunkards. Moreover, the less a figure appears like a grandmaster, the more dangerous he might be."
The girl responded with a nervous yet excited "Oh," eager that this unremarkable-looking man might be an assassin or killer, a perfect trial for her fledgling skills.
Chen Ping'an asked, "You seek me?"
The man grinned broadly, "I will escort you to the border of the Great Sui. Until then, we travel together—companions to watch each other's backs."
Chen Ping'an cautiously queried, "Do you know Master Ruan, the blacksmith?"
The man nodded, "Of course."
Chen Ping'an exhaled softly again. Before leaving the town, as part of their arrangement, Master Ruan had promised to ensure his safety until reaching the strategically vital Wildman Pass on the Great Li border. Chen trusted Ruan's word, especially since this man appeared so early, almost under Ruan's watchful eye, suggesting he was no faction from Zhengyang Mountain, Yunxia Mountain, or Old Dragon City.
The timely arrival of Zhu He and Zhu Lu also bolstered Chen Ping'an's confidence, though he remained wary.
He then proposed, "Why don't you accompany me to meet Master Ruan in the town before we set out south? I just found out the eastern gate road, although longer, is a post route suitable for ox and horse carts—likely faster than crossing mountains and rivers."
The man's smile deepened with amusement, "So cautious? No hint of a carefree jianghu spirit."
Chen Ping'an did not turn, his eyes fixed firmly on the man as he spoke gravely, "Zhu He, could you have Zhu Lu and Baoping return to town first? We are in no hurry."
Zhu He immediately understood and nodded, "That would be best."
Then he addressed his daughter, "Lu'er, take the young lady back. Baoping and I will accompany Brother A-liang here for a while. Be it drinking or sparring, chance meetings are fate—nothing excessive."
The young girl in the red cotton jacket, holding Zhu Lu's hand, hesitated not at all, neither crying nor clinging to her junior master. She tugged Chen Ping'an's sleeve, whispered a caution, then decisively followed Zhu Lu away. Li Baoping acted without hesitation, while the fearless young maid felt disappointed, wishing she could trade places with her father.
Witnessing this poignant farewell, the man rolled his eyes, removed the wine gourd, leaned against a white donkey, took a sip, and scoffed, "Let the little ones go ahead. We three men will reach the town after an incense stick's time."
He raised the silver gourd, patted the donkey's back, glanced at Zhu He, and teased, "You're quite the expert yourself. Don't you recognize this?"
He tapped his head, "Ah, forgot you just opened Lizhu Cave. It'd be strange if you did. No worries, we have all the time to talk."
Pointing toward an ancient willow tree stretching across the stream, he proposed, "Shall we sit there and chat?"
Chen Ping'an and Zhu He exchanged glances, agreeing it was wise to wait and watch.
The man led the donkey behind them to the willow, loosened the reins, letting the beast graze freely. He climbed the tree trunk extending over the creek and finally settled atop, donning his hat again. Raising the silver gourd, he was about to drink when he suddenly turned and offered the flask with a smile:
"Anyone care to share? Happiness is best when shared. This is two taels silver per liang—the Kuigang Immortal Brew—cherished by all wealthy families in Great Sui. I've traveled north tasting over a hundred brews, yet none compare to this authentic immortal nectar."
Chen Ping'an shook his head, "I abstain from alcohol."
Zhu He followed suit, "My martial arts are not yet perfected; I dare not drink."
The man sighed with regret, "Ah, no kindred spirits. I recently met a young hero, truly dashing…"
He suddenly noticed the peculiar expressions on their faces, growing puzzled but maintaining his composure, taking a sip to mask his confusion.
Chen Ping'an cleared his throat softly. The man asked, "What is it?"
Chen Ping'an pointed to the far edge beneath the crooked willow. The man frowned and turned, only to have his view blocked by two legs. His face stiffened as he abruptly looked up, spotting a middle-aged man—no less than 150 or 160 jin in weight—effortlessly perched on a slender willow branch.
This figure's spectral appearance startled the man in the hat, causing him to lose balance and fall into the creek, utterly embarrassed.
The newcomer was the military sage Ruan Qiong. As Yang Lao had said, Ruan cared little for the stirrings within the thousand-mile realm unless provoked by a rule-breaking figure like Cui Zan. Only then would the sword-forging Ruan take action.
He did not believe anyone dared attack Chen Ping'an within a hundred miles—it would be an affront to Ruan himself. Yet the pride of an eleventh-floor sword cultivator ranked heavier than that of any dynasty.
Therefore, Ruan barely glanced at the scene of a straw-shoe clad youth and a naïve young girl traveling together, deeming it unworthy of his scrutiny.
However, Ruan was drawn by a certain object. When it was brandished, he immediately sensed the overwhelming sword energy contained within—pure and vast, tinged with intimacy and sorrow. Though he had never seen it firsthand, his years of sect training had acquainted him with such a legendary item, prompting his swift arrival at the smithy.
Seeing the man's foolish antics, Ruan's expression grew solemn rather than mocking.
"Is this the Wei Jin from the Immortal Platform?" he inquired.
The man who had fallen scrambled upright, snatched his wine gourd from the water, shook off his hat, and glared at the culprit, grumbling, "I am A-liang."
Ruan stared down at him, scrutinizing, "May I have a sip?"
A-liang tossed the gourd toward Ruan with a laugh, "Why not? Just remember to return it."
Ruan took a sip and smiled, "Not the Five-Yellow Wine?"
A-liang's temper flared, rolling his eyes, "Prices have risen."
Ruan laughed heartily, returning the gourd, "How did you arrive so swiftly? I thought it would take at least ten days."
Drenched, A-liang climbed ashore, muttering curses, "Mind your own business. What's so great about being a sage?"
Ruan asked, "Care to visit my shop? My daughter admires you greatly."
A-liang gestured to himself, chuckling, "Me? Your daughter has excellent taste."
Ruan seemed well aware of this man's antics, inquired, "Are you the one responsible for the Longji Mountain matter?"
A-liang waved dismissively, "Not me. Someone else."
Ruan eyed the reluctant hat-wearer and suddenly laughed, "Did you meet that little Taoist nun on your journey north?"
A-liang's face remained expressionless, "I don't understand what you mean."
Ruan sighed inwardly, ceasing his probing.
Ruan hailed from the Frost and Snow Temple, home to a renowned young prodigious sword cultivator rarely seen in the sect. Even many within the temple did not know his name.
He had been chosen by an elder on a pilgrimage, raised as a disciple with high status, commanding respect from ancient masters upon his first arrival.
Following the failure of the sect's revival master and the dwindling of talent, the young swordsman became increasingly estranged from the temple. He wandered the jianghu for seven or eight years, returning only on his master's death anniversary, always solitary and aloof.
Legend had it he possessed an invaluable sword gourd, not for nurturing flying swords, but for storing exquisite wine by the ton, spending half the year drunk, earning him the title "Drunken Sword Immortal," who wandered wherever his white donkey led.
Before departing Frost and Snow Temple, Ruan heard this swordsman had fallen hopelessly in love with a young Taoist nun famed for her unparalleled fortune, a one-sided affection in a tale that became a celebrated anecdote throughout Baoping Continent.
Ruan mused, "In that case, please escort them safely to Wildman Pass in Great Li."
The man nodded.
Ruan bowed and vanished in a flash, leaving only the willow's branches gently swaying.
Zhu He