Chapter 1176: To the Capital

Chen Ping'an raised his left hand, clenched it into a fist, and retreated his right foot one step, stomping heavily on the ground. He assumed a stance, the School's Great Dragon he had learned in Lotus Root Blessed Land. His spine vibrated like metal and stone, a pure true qi driving the bones to tremble incessantly. The bones pulled the muscles, the muscles drove the qi and blood, and the qi and blood in turn nourished the meridians. What seemed like a simple raising of an arm and stepping back was Chen Ping'an integrating six stances, all melted into one furnace.

Chen Ping'an no longer deliberately concealed his peak martial will. The boundless and mighty fist intent surged onto the pure white Divine Platform like a breached flood, layers of ripples spreading outwards wildly, instantly extending beyond the platform, so much so that the cloudless blue sky above was like an ancient mirror repeatedly washed with clear water.

From the initiation of the stance to the flow of the fist intent, Chen Ping'an made no concealment, as if he were a wordless boxing manual.

Those who in later generations wished to learn this fist, just learn, just record and imitate, just open their eyes wide and watch carefully.

The fist delivered was precisely the unstoppable Divine Man Beating the Drum style.

His two green sleeves billowed like bellows, flapping fiercely.

Ancient martial arts were created single-handedly by Jiang She, the first ancestor of the military school, a deed of immense merit, opening up a third path distinct from divine abilities and spells.

If this ancient sorcerer symbolized a lone peak in the realm of ancient martial arts, what about Chen Ping'an, who represented Jiang She and was seated at the pinnacle of the martial path?

Then let ancient martial arts come forth.

Take this fist.

Onlookers only saw the straight rushing green figure within that pure white realm, directly cutting a Divine Platform that was nearly perfect in its Dao in half, slowly falling towards the earth.

The ancient sorcerer, his qi and blood churning like boiling water within him, stood rooted to the spot, his vision blurred. The coarse hemp robe on his body turned into dust, his entire face instantly melted away, his body revealing white bones, and in a flash, turned into ashes, scattering down. His soul flickered, also dissipating with the wind.

After one punch, the ancient sorcerer, with his formidable physical body, was like a wild flower in the wilderness, blooming and wilting in the blink of an eye.

But the ancient sorcerer seemed to have poured all his lifelong martial arts attainments, all his essence, qi, and spirit, without reservation, onto one arm, and given it all to this soft and powerless punch, lightly smashing it against the green-robed man's face.

It seemed there was a persistence supporting this ancient sorcerer; he not only took the punch, but also returned one.

Whether it was due to his own excessively powerful fist intent or the effect of receiving this punch from the ancient sorcerer, Chen Ping'an's hair bun subsequently came loose.

In a green robe, with disheveled hair, looking at ease, barefoot, he stood alone on the pure white Divine Platform.

Chen Ping'an smoothed his two sleeves, then rolled them up again.

At the same time, he used invisible fist intent to hold the two halves of the Divine Platform, preventing them from crashing directly into the Dali Capital region.

Looking around again, Chen Ping'an learned and applied. Earlier, even after learning Liu Xianyang's dream-delivered sword techniques, the effect had been minimal. But today, after exchanging several punches with the ancient sorcerer, he had an idea for a different approach. He envisioned the appearance of the white-boned Daoist. Within the slightly chaotic lake of his heart and mind, firelight flickered, like lighting an incense stick, the smoke curling, and a portrait hung suspended.

This was the benefit of having truly exchanged several punches with this clothes rack earlier.

Otherwise, relying solely on the visualization method he had only glanced at roughly, he certainly wouldn't have had this effect.

A fist tilted towards the boundary where the sea met the land. In an instant, the commotion was like throwing a string of firecrackers into the sea of clouds below, with thunderous rumblings.

Following the map, but alas, still unable to grasp the true body.

No matter.

Chen Ping'an extended his hand again, his fingers like hooks, gently pulling back.

He actually directly pulled the white-boned Daoist seated on the single-log boat out of a vortex in the river of time.

The white-boned Daoist was startled, reaching out to hold the gunwale, and said angrily, "Surname Chen, this Seat has already taken the initiative to retreat, why must you be so aggressive?!"

Chen Ping'an's fist intent not only kept the two halves of the Divine Platform suspended in the blue sky, but even had energy to spare, joining them back together.

If he had had such means in earlier years, inside the Kuruzhou ruins, why would he have needed to carry that well cover around?

Chen Ping'an shook his sleeves, smiled and said, "I originally intended for you to die, how could you not die?"

The white-boned Daoist was sinister, glancing sideways at the giant fox still surrounding the city, "Why spare her life? And yet be at odds with this Seat?"

Chen Ping'an smiled and ignored it, too lazy to explain a single word.

If you had gone to the Wilds first, and viewed the world as a farmland, seeing the world as a chopping board and all living beings as fish and meat, then so be it, as long as you're happy.

In this Hao Ran, especially within the territory of Dali, daring to maintain such a mentality is simply seeking death, fellow Daoist.

Chen Ping'an raised an arm, signaling Xiao Mo that he could retract that streak of sword light.

Without any hesitation, Xiao Mo's mind stirred slightly, and the dazzling sword light immediately retreated back into the螺蛳壳（luósī ké）Taoist temple in Gray Mist Mountain.

The former Qingqiu master was startled again.

This skeleton frame is really vicious, actually wanting to drag her down with him?

Her Yin spirit, in human form, gently narrowed her pair of phoenix eyes, filled with intense hatred.

The girl in the mink hat, crouching inside the rampart, carefully chewed on a wedding candy, smiling, "Eat candy, eat candy, calm down."

The words and thoughts the former Qingqiu master could glean from the Dali capital were limited after all. She was indeed curious why Chen Ping'an was... relatively polite to her alone. The ancient sorcerer had already perished, but his residual soul seemed to have been gathered into his sleeve. Immediately after, he forcefully compelled the Three Courts Law Master out of his hidden location, confronting him again.

Her disembodied Yin spirit, carrying that embroidered bag, felt a bit suspicious. Could it be that he wanted to recruit her to assist Falling-Dust Mountain?

Xie Gou chuckled, "You're new here, so you don't know. Our Mountain Master is known for cherishing and protecting women."

The former Qingqiu master was half-believing, half-doubting.

The white-boned Daoist had his own hidden worries and was even more puzzled. Since it was a situation of death or nothing, why wasn't the other party in a hurry to deliver the punch? What was he waiting for?

Those two strange fist techniques? Sword techniques? His ability to find his tracks was truly extraordinary and unbelievable. But to say that he could use this to harm his fundamental Dao, it wasn't that he was arrogant, but that the other party was simply dreaming.

The white-boned Daoist was extremely anxious. The feeling of being led by the nose was truly suffocating. Remembering those years, where had he ever suffered such humiliation?

Zhu Su was amazed. She was increasingly curious about one thing: who won the fifth exchange of punches between the white-robed Cao Qingshan and Chen Ping'an?!

Liu Cha was much more direct. He asked Cao Ci with his heart-voice, "If you were to fight against the current Chen Ping'an, what would the outcome be?"

Cao Ci smiled, "Only after actually fighting will I know."

Old Deaf did not gather with Zhu Su and Xu Xie. There was nothing to talk about with these sword immortals who had achieved fame at a young age.

He had to wait for Chief Xie to give the order before he, as the second-in-command, could make a move.

Old Deaf certainly also saw the white-robed youth on the peak of the mountains.

In his youth, Cao Ci had built a thatched hut on the city wall. Because he was neighbors with the Great Sword Immortal, Old Deaf occasionally participated in discussions and had met Cao Ci twice. At that time, Old Deaf felt that this foreigner, whose appearance and demeanor were quite similar to his own in his youth, was the most suitable match for Ning girl. However, neither of them had such intentions. He only heard that Ning girl had gone outside for a trip, and after returning home, she often seemed lost in thought.

Old Deaf knew immediately that something was wrong, guessing that Ning Yao must have been deceived by someone in Hao Ran?

Later, when a sword-carrying youth crossed Reverse Mountain and swaggered into Sword Qi Great Wall, Old Deaf immediately walked to the prison gate and secretly glanced at the city wall.

Xiao Xun, who was then serving as the Concealed Official, was also by Old Deaf's side.

Old Deaf sighed endlessly, always feeling that a good cabbage had been rooted up by a pig.

The little girl with pigtails, however, said it was the "heavenly match" in her heart.

Old Deaf didn't understand, and just assumed it was the Concealed Official Xiao Xun saying the opposite of what he meant.

A continuous downpour, with mud splashing on the road. Old Deaf stood alone by the roadside. To avoid revealing his identity as a cultivator, he conjured an umbrella and held it up in a perfunctory manner.

Nearby, several groups of familiar vendors from the same hometown had collectively set up a simple shed, selling some inexpensive but good-value miscellaneous goods and food inside.

The old saying goes that a heavy rain doesn't last long. But this downpour today was stubborn, with no sign of stopping at all.

Raindrops as large as soybeans fell rapidly, rattling on the roof of the shed.

Due to this downpour, the team entering the city moved a bit slower.

An old vendor who was baking pancakes, with a thick local accent, shouted to Old Deaf outside the shed, "Old man, here, come here and take shelter from the rain."

Old Deaf thanked the vendor, entered the shed and stopped, turned around and closed his umbrella, shaking off the rainwater outside the shed.

He ordered two steaming hot pancakes, rolled them together, and also bought two liang of local liquor from the nearby stall. The tables and benches inside the shed were full of temporary resting guests, so Old Deaf, with the umbrella tucked under his arm, squatted at the edge of the shed where he wouldn't block the way, holding a wine bowl in one hand and a rolled pancake in the other, eating and drinking.

Several lively children, holding old oil-paper umbrellas, extended their feet out to play in the water outside.

Their clothes, sewn and patched, were either too loose or too narrow in the sleeves and pant legs.

However, it didn't hinder their childlike innocence and finding joy in hardship. But it's estimated that when their elders finished their business at hand, they would inevitably be scolded a few words, or even get a beating.

Returning the empty bowl, Old Deaf took out a shriveled money bag from his sleeve and pulled out a handful of copper coins, intending to settle the bill with the two vendors. Just as Old Deaf was about to ask for the price, he didn't expect the vendor to wave his hand repeatedly, "Old man, no charge, it's all free. I called you in just now to shelter from the rain, not to earn your money, that's not how business is done. We're all people out and about, helping each other out is no big deal."

Old Deaf didn't insist, put the copper coins back into the money bag, tucked the money bag into his sleeve, and smiled, "Old brother has a benevolent heart, and will surely have good fortune in his later years."

"What kind of kindness is this? Are you a scholar, old man?"

"Old brother, are you going to set up a stall in the capital city to do business?"

"That's right. At places like White Cloud Temple and Flower Deity Temple, we might not get a good spot, so we'll find a temple fair in the western part of the city to set up a stall. The little brat's father works at the household registration office in Yongtai County, so he can also take a look. The little brat is very playful. Every time he goes to the yamen to see his father, he always touches the tails of the horses in the official stable. His father has a good reputation there, and those officials are good-tempered, so they let the little brat play."

"Wow, quite promising! An official who eats from the imperial granary, that's something. I've heard that the county magistrates of Yongtai County and Changning County have very high official ranks."

The old vendor's mouth widened with astonishment.

Old Deaf was extremely indifferent to the mountain sects and immortal abodes in Bottle Continent. For example, he knew about Everlasting Spring Palace only because he craved their Everlasting Spring Brew. He heard about Pure Yang Mountain only because the Mountain Master had caused trouble there. He knew about Divine Proclamation Sect merely out of curiosity about the unique products of that Clear Pool Blessed Land.

Perhaps it was due to loving the work one does, since he had once been an emperor, Old Deaf was quite familiar with the officialdom of Hao Ran.

What "Golden Cauldron Everlasting," emperors throughout history had to throw golden dragon and jade plaques into the water... Old Deaf had heard that there were some unscrupulous mountain and marsh cultivators who relied on this to make a fortune. As soon as the court released them, they would steal them.

On the road, teams of carriages followed each other in a long line. The sound of scholars reciting imperial examination essays could be vaguely heard from within a carriage.

The Dali Imperial Examination, especially the metropolitan examination, was always known for its strictness. Besides poetry and essays, it also involved knowledge of economy and arithmetic concerning national welfare and people's livelihood, and even discussions on military preparedness and strategy. Even if it was merely paper talk from scholars, it was better than being completely ignorant. Even the otherwise, upon arriving in a locality, they would always be at the mercy of the yamen runners.

This year's metropolitan examination in the capital was temporarily changed from the spring examination to the autumn examination. The candidates quickly sensed the underlying meaning. It was probably because the emperor had long wanted the new National Master to be the chief examiner for the Jia Chen year and become the mentor for this year's new Jinshi?

Therefore, many quick-witted candidates had already begun to search for and buy or borrow those two seal scripts. If the fonts were similar, could it earn them some extra favor?

After the rain cleared, the light of day seemed particularly bright.

Old Deaf took out the umbrella from under his arm and handed it to the child who resembled the vendor somewhat, smiling, "Little one, it's for you."

The child was shy and didn't dare to accept gifts from strangers casually. He could only look at his grandfather inside the shed.

The vendor smiled and shook his head, and the child also shook his head.

Old Deaf smiled, "I've heard that only officials are allowed to set fires and the common people are not allowed to light lamps, but I haven't heard that only old brothers are allowed to help others, and strangers are not allowed to give an inexpensive umbrella."

The old vendor was stunned for a moment. Could he really be a scholar who had no official title but liked to be pretentious in poverty?

Old Deaf said, "It will always rain, you'll need it."

The vendor nodded to his grandson, "Take it, and remember to thank the old gentleman."

Only then did the child embrace the umbrella and thank the old gentleman before him.

Old Deaf nodded and walked towards the capital city.

In the Wilds, doing such a thing would feel very strange.

In Hao Ran, such a thing is a small matter.

On the road, someone, perhaps a scholar, was the first to recite poetry. Soon, others followed from elsewhere, joining in with continuous singing and chanting, like the rain. It seemed there was a certain formality among scholars. For example, if someone said, "Wind rages wanting to lift the roof, rain comes like a breached dike," someone else from elsewhere would say in a loud voice, "Thunder falls on a thousand peaks, rain colors arrive at ten thousand peaks." Soon, a clear yet loud female voice would also ring out, "Lightning's tail burns black clouds, rain's feet fly silver threads." Next, there was the pleasant reciting voice of a young child, hurriedly saying, "After the rain, I don't know where the dragon went, a pond full of grass and ten thousand frogs croaking..." The road roared with laughter, from within carriages, from on horseback, and from those in the muddy road.

An old gentleman lifted the carriage curtain, sat next to the coachman, and leisurely said a poem that didn't quite fit the season, "The city snow has just melted, shepherd's purse grows."

A poor scholar rushing for the exam understood immediately and continued with the line, "Few people walk in the deep lanes of the corner gate."

Soon, a slightly unrestrained voice said loudly, "Willows hear the orioles' song... Everyone, wait! The last line must be finished by a talented woman from our Great Dali!"

Indeed, a woman's bright and charming laughter immediately rang out, "This is the first sound of spring!"

Old Deaf, walking slowly on the road, also knew this poem. The poem's name was neither widely popular nor particularly obscure.

It was called "Arriving at the Capital."

Even though Bai Jing still hadn't said hello, Old Deaf of Sword Qi Great Wall, the disseminator of Dao from Flower Shadow Peak of Falling-Dust Mountain, and the perpetually frustrated sword cultivator Gantang, he suddenly wanted to meet that white-boned Daoist who called himself the Three Courts Law Master.

Suspended high in the blue sky, the white-boned Daoist, who had changed into a yellow Taoist robe, was silent for a moment. He had to bend his will and lower himself, saying with his heart-voice, "Fellow Daoist Chen, we had no grievances or enmity to begin with, why tear off the face and end up destroying everything? Strictly speaking, that Taoist robe was stolen by maritime bandits, this Seat is the one who suffered serious losses. What loss has Fellow Daoist Chen suffered? Is that not so?"

Chen Ping'an looked up at the white-boned Daoist, beckoning, "Don't stand so high to talk to me, come down and speak."

The white-boned Daoist almost couldn't help but curse. Did he take this Seat for a three-year-old ignorant street child, unaware of the consequences of "chatting" at close range with an Eleventh Realm martial artist?

In a fit of anger, a Dao technique that drew forth phenomena materialized. The golden light of this Three Courts Law Master's Dao body flowed, and five or six hundred Qi palaces were all active, displaying a considerable number of their natal objects, collectively forming a starry golden world. The strange and colorful lights emitted by the various natal objects and magical treasures gradually seeped out of the yellow Taoist robe, which was not of high quality and could not conceal the scene.

Chen Ping'an narrowed his eyes and smiled.

Reading a lot without knowing how to apply it is easily mocked as a "walking bookshelf." Unexpectedly, this white-boned Fellow Daoist is also a "walking treasure trove"?

According to Zheng Juzhong's earlier statement on the Night Sailing Boat, it was already extremely difficult to maintain one's Dao body without turning into劫灰 (jié huī, calamity ash) within that river of time. This Three Courts Law Master had good means. Besides his own powerful Dao force, was it also because that single-log boat had other blessings?

Acutely sensing the change in the other party's aura, the white-boned Daoist felt a chilling sensation and a coldness in his spine.

This was because this feeling was all too familiar. The white-boned Daoist himself had it, and he believed that Sword Cultivator Bai Jing would also have it.

It was the feeling of a ravenous ancient Daoist, traveling the world, running rampant in all directions, who finally spotted a resource for the Great Dao that could be called a great tonic, killing intent arising, wanting to feed!

Sure enough, that fellow with the surname Chen had already unleashed his fist, his figure rising from the ground, and the pure white Divine Platform plummeted with him, lowering its height by over a hundred zhang.

The white-boned Daoist quickly raised his extremely wide Taoist robe sleeve, covering himself, as if creating a yellow curtain in the blue sky. Then, with his mind, he controlled the single-log boat to cross the water, suddenly concealing his tracks and disappearing.

Chen Ping'an's eyes were fervent, and he smiled, "Since you're here, don't leave."

Exchanging punches with that ancient sorcerer was a martial art exchange between two pure martial artists.

Exchanging blows with this white-boned Daoist was simply to take its life; how could it be the same?

In the midst of the ethereal, a connection was drawn.

It was actually the Divine Man Beating the Drum style, which had already ended, but had been resumed.

In broad daylight, the methods of an Eleventh Realm martial artist were laid bare.

The Divine Man Beating the Drum style, taught by Cui Cheng, had undergone an astonishing transformation in the hands of Chen Ping'an, who had already reached the Eleventh Realm.

Previously, this fist technique required connecting one punch to the next, continuously accumulating fist intent layer by layer. But now, Chen Ping'an could "punch" first within his own human body world, like compiling pages, transforming into a single volume, overlapping into one punch.

It was like the old man teaching boxing in the bamboo building back then, occasionally showing unusual signs of melancholy.

This was simply because the various boxing techniques that Cui Cheng had painstakingly researched and developed, no matter how grand their spirit or how profound their meaning, were ultimately limited by the physique of a Limit-reaching martial artist, unable to fully display the power of the boxing techniques. It wasn't that the techniques were not good, but that Cui Cheng's realm was too low, which prevented him from showing the martial artists of the world where the true magnificent martial path was high!

Chen Ping'an silently recited a number in his heart.

Twenty-seven.

The white-boned Daoist, constantly forming hand seals, caused a substitute avatar to explode in the air.

Elsewhere, the white-boned Daoist's true body continued to navigate the single-log boat, drifting unsteadily in the thick wind and cloud sea of fist intent.

Chen Ping'an, with disheveled hair and bare feet, approached closely, lightly landing on the single-log boat.

Thirty-six.

A single-log boat suffered a fate similar to the Divine Platform, being torn into two pieces.

The yellow Taoist robe on the white-boned Daoist was completely pulverized. It remained suspended in the air, reaching out to grab the half of the single-log boat that included the bow.

The green-robed figure standing on the other half of the single-log boat instantly bled from its seven orifices. The physique of an Eleventh Realm martial artist surprisingly also had hundreds of fine cracks on its face. The veins and flesh on its right hand twisted and intertwined, a shocking sight.

Seeing that the fellow with the surname Chen seemed to be stunned by this punch, he raised his arm and was looking down.

The white-boned Daoist was exhilarated and laughed loudly, "You brute who only knows how to use your fists and feet, how does it taste? Do you still dare to deliver a third punch..."

Chen Ping'an raised his head, his eyes fixed on the white-boned Daoist with decent divine abilities. Interesting, he could evenly distribute the fist intent.

There was no longer the calculation or杂念 (zá niàn,杂念) of killing the white-boned Daoist to recoup his losses, not even killing intent. It had merely transformed into a purer... ferocity and passion.

When a fist is delivered into the world, there should be no opponent in front of it!

Since you happen to be in front of me, how could I not punch?

I'll see if your Fourteenth Realm cultivator's physique, which you've been concealing, is more sturdy, or if an Eleventh Realm martial artist's physique is more resistant to beating!

Seventy-two!

Fist intent filled the blue sky.

The white-boned Daoist was extremely anxious. This unreasonable brute, this fellow is crazy, truly crazy.

After one punch, the world was clear.

Chen Ping'an, with disheveled hair, was suspended high in the sky, his fist aura visible to the naked eye of mortals, like the midday sun.

He glanced sideways at a spot in the sky, and a faint smile appeared on his lips. Old賊龐鼎 (zéi páng dǐng, Thief Pang Ding) of White Jade Capital, did you see clearly?

Chen Ping'an didn't mistakenly believe that the white-boned Daoist had perished. These uninvited guests, the nameless Daoist who threw the halberd into the sea, and the former Qingqiu master who was the co-lord of the fox clan, they had all fallen in realm. On the surface, the white-boned Daoist was also like this, but Chen Ping'an trusted his intuition.

No need for the Mountain Master's reminder, or Bai Jing's urging.

Old Deaf, walking alone on the official road outside the Dali capital, took the initiative to draw his sword.

And he simultaneously unleashed his two natal flying swords that were fundamentally opposed to each other.

In fact, Old Deaf knew clearly that Chen Mountain Master's previous several punches were like practice, demonstrating the left and right rotations of the Great Dao respectively. They were new martial arts for the ancient sorcerer to see in the human world, and even more so, a sword path for him, the second-ranked attendant, to see.

Is there anything more singular in the world than the rotation of the Great Dao? Since it is possible, how could there be no chance for Sword Cultivator Gantang's two natal flying swords to turn from mutual opposition to mutual generation?

Even so, understanding the meaning and feeling quite grateful to Chen Ping'an, Old Deaf was still unwilling to deliver the sword at that time.

How could my heart not be free?

Old Deaf was like someone with a洁癖 (jié pǐ, cleanliness fetish). He wanted to find a pure reason for himself, one that could be very grand or very small.

Let his own sword heart cause the barbarian sword cultivator Gantang, whose Dao name was Long Sheng, to deliver a full-force sword against a powerful enemy.

Perhaps it was because it was the first time he had unleashed two flying swords simultaneously, the sword light flowed, but it always gave the onlookers a slightly awkward feeling.

The areas reached by the two streaks of sword light were one black, one white, like a sea of clouds and a curtain of rain. The black clouds were like dragon claws, and the white rain was like chess pieces.

Old Deaf took a step that缩地山河 (suō dì shān hé, shrinking land and mountains), choosing a small hillside in the capital region. He controlled the two flying swords, intersecting vertically and horizontally in the sky.

As expected, just unleashing the flying swords would damage his own cultivation. However, Old Deaf's sword heart became unusually clear.

He sent the pure white flying sword back to the ground with a flick of his sleeve, and then struck the second flying sword, which was like an ink-colored蛟 (jiāo,蛟) turning in the air, with half of the single-log boat.

The hillside under Old Deaf's feet instantly scattered like mud. Standing in the sunken pit, he controlled the flying swords to kill the enemy again, not forgetting to look up and say, "Falling-Dust Mountain's second-ranked attendant, Jumping Fish Mountain's disseminator of Dao, Sword Cultivator Gantang, will casually exchange a few moves with this senior."

The white-boned Daoist, who was forced to reveal himself again, continuously repelled the two flying swords that were like parasitic worms. It gritted its teeth and said, "One by one, relying on a bit of boxing and sword techniques, going their own way. Then don't blame this Seat for going on a killing spree."

It looked down at the tiny figure on the road, and it was another sword cultivator.

He stabbed this Seat first, and then reported his identity, Dao name, and mountain range here?

This "excitement" descending from the sky, besides the group of participants like the former Qingqiu master, also included a batch who either openly appeared or concealed their tracks and temporarily watched from the sidelines.

There were the two ancient gods in the capital city, Aunt Feng and Su Kan, Xiao Mo who was in the螺蛳壳（luósī ké）Taoist temple but delivered a sword, Bai Jing who mercilessly stabbed that vixen, Liu Cha who stood on the cliff in the capital region and held his sword casually, Old Deaf who was waiting for news by the official road outside the city, the Ascension Realm sword immortal Xu Jun, and Zhu Su who had just reached the Immortal Realm.

Of course, there were also Chen Ping'an and Cao Ci, these two Eleventh Realm martial artists.

Chen Ping'an turned his head and looked towards the Qingxuan Cave, seeing those two figures, feeling somewhat surprised.

It was actually Zheng Juzhong, and it was impossible to determine if it was his true body, or his Yang spirit or Yin spirit that had arrived here.

He was accompanied by that gatekeeper of White Emperor City, Zheng Dan, from the Yue Maiden sword technique lineage.

One wave had not settled before another arose. In addition, there was movement in the sky.

The white-boned Daoist's Dao heart was instantly shaken, sensing an extremely familiar Dao aura.

His heart felt like being cut by a knife. He looked up blankly and saw in the sky, a tall Daoist Dharma body with a blurry, ethereal appearance. Behind it, a宝相 (bǎo xiàng, treasure image) was like a bright moon. His true body had not crossed the world, but his Yin spirit had traveled far out of his body, forcefully "crossing the water" with his powerful Dao force.

It was clear that this old Daoist had not notified White Jade Capital or the Central Plains Literary Temple beforehand.

The white-boned Daoist was terrified. It was indeed that smelly bull's nose, the owner of Green Sky Cave at Falling Treasure Shoal!

The Daoist waved his sleeve, casually dispersing White Jade Capital's gaze which had been coveting this place.

There was no longer any thought of concealing his strength. The Three Courts Law Master, who was temporarily maintaining his Fourteenth Realm status with ancient heavenly divine abilities, once again looked at a certain area from a distance. After a moment, it angrily decided to flee far away.

He saw a giant hand, white as jade, slowly extending from the shimmering, bright moon.

The owner of the giant hand spoke only one word, and the voice, filled with sarcasm, instantly echoed through the clouds, "Running?"

The former Qingqiu master first retracted her Yin spirit, then withdrew her true body which was surrounding the capital, transforming back into a graceful beautiful woman.

Xie Gou teased, "Sister A'zi, what are your thoughts?"

She felt very helpless. The human world nowadays, it seemed, was truly different from what it was ten thousand years ago. She always felt that the world was narrow.

She asked with her heart-voice, "Who is that new arrival?"

Xie Gou smiled, "Him? A great demon, a very clever fellow."

The former Qingqiu master was puzzled, "What is he here for?"

Xie Gou pursed his lips, "My brain isn't that smart, how would I know what he's thinking?"

No longer questioning, the former Qingqiu master hesitated for a moment, but still opened the embroidered bag, took out a wedding candy, put it in her mouth and began to chew. She looked at the pure white Divine Platform suspended in the sky. A green-robed figure sat on the edge of the platform, looking relaxed, tying his hair into a bun.

They had finally escaped from the cage of time, seen the light of day again, and regained their freedom. This trip to Bottle Continent, they each had their own goals. Seeing someone or not seeing someone seemed less important now. Arriving at the capital, facing the heavenly palace, meeting the green-robed figure.