The group moved slowly southward along the Longxu Creek and Tiefu River, covering more than sixty miles a day. Both Li Baoping and Li Huai were unusually resilient for their age, and even though Lin Shouyi had already worn through two pairs of straw sandals, as a boy from a wealthy family, he refused to show weakness or admit defeat in front of the two children bearing the Li surname. He grit his teeth and endured, aided by a folk remedy Chen Ping'an had taught him, involving medicinal herbs to soothe weary feet. Thanks to the help of a white donkey and a few horses carrying their luggage, the journey did not feel overly arduous.
Chen Ping'an deeply admired the three children, especially Li Baoping. As a result, the words "academic journey" and the title "scholar" weighed ever more heavily in the heart of the straw-sandaled boy. Longquan County belonged to Yongjia Commandery under the Great Li Dynasty. Long ago, all dynasties across East Baoping Continent issued a decree: any prefecture or county whose name included the character "dragon" had to be renamed. Yet, Longquan County remained untouched—perhaps a rare exception granted due to its proximity to the mystical Lizhu Cave-Heaven.
The once-suspended Cave-Heaven had long since taken root in the mortal realm, having shifted significantly southward. From its new resting place to the southern border outpost Yefu Pass of the Great Li Dynasty, the journey by carriage along official post roads would take little more than a month.
Zhu He, from the Li family on Fulu Street, had clearly read a wealth of privately kept books and was well-informed. Whenever he had the chance, Chen Ping'an would ask him all manner of questions. Conversely, Zhu He was just as eager to learn mountain and river etiquette from the young man. For reasons unknown, A'Liang had become more silent and withdrawn the more he drank. After sampling the strong liquor from the silver gourd, Lin Shouyi had grown close to A'Liang, often peppering him with curious questions, even showing signs of turning into a budding alcoholic.
Inside Li Baoping's small book chest lay an exquisitely illustrated geography atlas issued by the imperial court of the Great Li Dynasty—an item meant only for preservation within a provincial governor's archives. According to the atlas, they were about to ascend a mountain range called Qidun Mountain, a winding path stretching over three hundred miles, crossing four counties including Yongjia and Baiyun.
The group paused briefly at the mountain's base. Upon seeing the narrow trail no wider than Riding Dragon Alley, Li Huai stood dumbstruck, then turned to shout furiously,
"A'Liang! This is the post road you spoke of? The grand official horse road built by the Great Li court? This pathetic thread of a path—how is this worthy of the title 'imperial road'?!"
Post roads, colloquially known as official horse routes, connected every county and commandery within a realm, much like the meridians in a human body. Should one become blocked, the lifeblood of the land would cease to flow—policies would falter, and governance would fail.
A'Liang, perched lazily on a rotting tree stump by the roadside, took a swig of wine and laughed.
"Not all post roads are made equal. Yefu Pass in the southern frontier of Great Li has three routes heading north. This one, through Qidun Mountain, is the smallest—used mostly for shipping porcelain, tea, and refined salt. It used to be bustling, but once the Lizhu Cave-Heaven came crashing down, it severed the north-south artery. This route has been abandoned for now, costing many their livelihoods. Goods now pile up at a water transport pier on the southern slopes, in a town called Red Candle. Most of the flower boats there are small vessels carrying two or three people. Come nightfall, the lanterns blaze bright, and the girls aboard are charming beyond compare. They sit by the bow or stern with smooth, ivory legs intentionally exposed. You can sit in a riverside tavern, order a pot of wine and a plate of peanuts, and enjoy a night's show without spending a single coin."
Maidservant Zhu Lu hurriedly bent down to cover her young mistress's ears, lest such lascivious talk soil them. With a scowl, she declared,
"We are not staying overnight in Red Candle Town!"
A'Liang pointed at Chen Ping'an with his wine gourd and grinned,
"That's not up to me. Ask him—he's the one managing our purse strings."
Zhu Lu shot a glare sharp as blades—if Chen Ping'an so much as nodded, she looked ready to kill.
Chen Ping'an considered briefly and then replied seriously,
"We'll definitely stop to resupply some essentials. As for whether we spend the night, that depends on the lodging prices. With so many of us, if it's overpriced, then we move on."
Zhu Lu's face darkened, her tone pressing,
"So if it's cheap, we're to stay in that vulgar den of perfumed sin? Chen Ping'an, have you no sense? My lady and Lin Shouyi are half-scholars themselves—students of the Cliffside Academy! How can they be housed beside such degeneracy? Even if we don't see anything scandalous, we'll surely hear it!"
Chen Ping'an braced himself and muttered,
"We'll decide once we arrive."
Zhu Lu fumed. Her father Zhu He intervened,
"We'll follow Ping'an's plan. No need to jump to conclusions before we see the place. We're not bound to spend the night there."
Zhu Lu jabbed a finger at Chen Ping'an, still brimming with anger,
"Good thing you're not a scholar. Were you one, the sages would feel disgraced by association!"
Having recently begun learning to read from Li Baoping and Zhu He, Chen Ping'an felt a pang of defeat before her righteous fury. The true culprit, A'Liang, looked on with barely concealed glee.
Zhu Lu cast a final, contemptuous glance at the green jade hairpin in Chen Ping'an's hair and sneered,
"A monkey dressed in robes is still just a monkey."
"Zhu Lu!" barked Zhu He sharply.
Both Li Baoping and Lin Shouyi frowned at her words. A'Liang took another languid sip of wine. No matter how fine the drink, it lost its charm if consumed constantly. His thoughts drifted toward Red Candle's seasonal apricot blossom brew, and he began plotting how to coax some silver from Chen Ping'an.
Chen Ping'an opened his mouth to speak, then fell silent. Without another word, he led the group into the mountains. But before setting foot on the trail, he stopped and performed three solemn bows—the old ritual passed down by Elder Yao, whose meaning was never explained but faithfully followed.
A'Liang scoffed, as usual. Even when Chen Ping'an warned him not to sit on sacred stumps, he paid it no mind, sprawling wherever he pleased—just as he did now.
Chen Ping'an wasn't the kind to impose his beliefs on others. After a few futile attempts at persuasion, he stopped trying altogether. Since no harm had come from it, he saw no reason to press the matter.
The next stretch of mountain road, though paved with bluestone, proved difficult to traverse. Though it was late spring, the mountain wilderness showed no sign of decline—lush greenery and blooming trees burst with vitality, as if this spring refused to end.
The winding trail snaked upward. Everyone, young and old, had wrapped their legs in cloth to conserve strength and carried wooden walking sticks. Even Zhu He and Zhu Lu, whose packs included several pairs of sturdy boots, wore Chen Ping'an's handmade straw sandals.
At first, Zhu Lu adamantly refused, finding them too shabby and crude. But when rain turned the mountain path into a slippery mire, she found herself stumbling despite her martial skills. In the end, she silently accepted a pair from her father.
Li Huai secretly chuckled—only to be promptly stomped into a puddle by the embarrassed girl. A martial artist at the peak of the second tier, her footstep carried real force, splattering mud all over him.
Coming from a poor family, the boy had few clothes to spare. Her stomp pierced his pride, and he burst into sobs. Lin Shouyi, panting nearby, rolled his eyes and chose not to intervene.
Zhu He, despite being a fifth-tier martial artist, maintained a gentle temperament. He apologized with sincerity, promising to buy Li Huai a new outfit once they reached town. But the boy's grievance wasn't just the mud—it was the sting of poverty, the shame of being mocked by someone with a rich father and a cruel tongue. His weeping only grew more bitter…