In recent days, the straw-sandaled youth had been frequently delivering letters to families along Fulu Street's Taoye Lane. Nearly every household's gatekeeper now recognized this familiar courier, so his comings and goings no longer seemed out of place. With a composed expression and a light jog across the cobblestone street, he blended into the daily bustle, drawing no undue attention from passing pedestrians.
As Chen Ping'an approached a residence whose entrance was guarded by a waist-high stone effigy—carved in the likeness of a martial deity to ward off evil—he knew he had arrived at the grand Li estate. On the prosperous Fulu Street, every wealthy household had its own method of warding off evil spirits; even the door gods varied between civil and martial types, making them easy to distinguish. He cast a swift glance around, then moved on. Just ahead lay the Song residence, and beyond that, the Kiln Office. Between the Li and Song mansions, on the boundary wall, stood a venerable locust tree—its gnarled trunk and sprawling branches giving it an air of quiet dignity. Though not as ancient or imposing as the giant locust tree at the town center, it nonetheless commanded attention.
According to the elders, this tree shared a lineage with that towering ancestral locust tree, known reverently as the "Patriarch Tree." This one before Chen Ping'an's eyes was dubbed the "Descendant Tree."
Chen Ping'an's visit to the Li estate, rather than the Lu family—one of the town's oldest clans where Lu Zhengchun resided—was prompted by a seemingly casual conversation. When he left the Kiln Office, an elderly steward had accompanied him for a time, chatting idly about local matters: how Zhao Yao, the scholarly prodigy of the Zhao family on this street, had left town and would surely become a high-ranking official in the future; how the young lady of the neighboring Song household was of marriageable age yet had no aptitude for needlework, preferring swords to silk, hardly a fitting pastime for a noble lady.
Amidst these trivial anecdotes, the old man let slip a detail of consequence: a distinguished guest had recently arrived at the Li residence—a young girl of exquisite beauty, like a piece of imperial porcelain. If time were kind, she would grow into a breathtaking beauty. The steward even joked about which fortunate family might one day marry her into their household.
During the walk from the back hall of the Kiln Office, the seemingly silent youth had deliberately slowed his pace, carefully observing the layout of the buildings. Now and then, he posed a question, curious about the grandeur of the elite families. The steward, eager to please, spoke freely, using the Song and Li households as examples to explain the distribution of their courtyards and the strict etiquette observed within.
Chen Ping'an knew the man's true intent. But from the beginning, he had never planned to play along.
Now, jogging along the street, seeing that no one was around, he suddenly burst into a sprint toward the locust tree. With a leap, he stepped swiftly up the trunk—four light-footed strides before gravity pulled at him. By then, the agile youth had already grasped a branch and swung himself onto it like a mountain monkey. Balanced and nimble, he stood upright, climbing even higher. In mere moments, Chen Ping'an crouched on a slanted limb, just high enough to peer over the towering courtyard wall. Concealed among the dense foliage, he held his breath, eyes narrowed, showing no haste to make his move.
On the way back from the covered bridge with Ning Yao, Chen Ping'an had asked many questions—about the old ape from Zhengyang Mountain who roamed these parts. Under normal circumstances, how fast could it run? How high could it leap? How tough was its body? Could his fists even scratch it? Would a slingshot or wooden bow be more effective at a distance of twenty or forty paces? Did this so-called "immortal" have any fatal weaknesses—perhaps the eyes, groin, or throat? If the creature went all out, would it be certain death for him?
Ning Yao had nearly lost her patience with his barrage of questions, wishing she were deaf and mute.
She explained that whether one practiced internal alchemy or physical martial arts, the higher the cultivator's realm, the more pressure they would feel in this place. Like cavalry defending a besieged fortress, they relied on sheer endurance. To speak, even once, was to invite a flood of backlash—like opening a hole in a dam to face a deluge. But in the end, her verdict was simple: if Chen Ping'an were to fight the old ape one-on-one, he didn't stand a chance.
Hidden beneath the locust's canopy, Chen Ping'an's gaze was firm, his expression cold. He whispered under his breath, "Do not let it come within ten paces. Ten paces. No less."
Ning Yao had said that as long as the ape didn't go into a frenzied rage, survival was possible.
But Chen Ping'an's response was simple: "Then I'll provoke it until it does."
He wanted the ape to unleash its full fury, to burn through the qi it had spent a millennium accumulating. Perhaps the old ape saw common folk like him and Liu Xiangyang as worthless, but Chen Ping'an was curious—if forced to watch its cultivation wither away, would the old beast feel pain? Would it still think their lives were cheap?
Of course, all this depended on him not being killed with a single blow.
Peering into the courtyard teeming with servants and maids, the youth muttered, "Even if I can't escape, I'll make sure to take a few more punches."
He never planned to kill the old ape. Nor did he believe he'd live to tell the tale.
——
In the Li family's grand estate, a young girl from Zhengyang Mountain was being treated like a living deity. As the direct granddaughter of the Tao family's patriarch, she was honored by everyone in the household. Several elite maidservants had been stationed at the separate residence assigned to her—girls born into servitude, clean-handed, with known and trusted backgrounds. Some had served the Li family for generations, their loyalty beyond question.
The courtyard was centrally located, set back from the bustle of Fulu Street. The girl's name was Tao Zi, affectionately called "Peach." She was the darling of the sword immortals of Zhengyang Mountain—not because of a childish charm, but because of her staggering potential in the Way of the Sword. Zhengyang Mountain spared no expense in cultivating her, for she was considered an extraordinary talent in all four vital aspects: spiritual roots, natural aptitude, temperament, and fortune. In the five centuries past, she ranked among the very best of all the mountain's descendants. In short, Tao Zi was a rare prodigy with no apparent flaws—a once-in-a-century marvel, not the empty praise commonly thrown about.
Now without her companion, the mountain-moving old ape, she found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. She was neither timid nor anxious—only slightly bored and disappointed. According to her simian guardian, it seemed unlikely she would be gifted a mountain to claim as her own.
This greatly disheartened her.
Senior Sister Su of Zhengyang Mountain had received such a gift upon reaching the Middle Five Realms—a mountain hand-delivered by the ape after a journey of ten thousand miles. Though modest in size, it became her private domain. Tao Zi had always envied her for it.
Feeling stifled in the study, she wandered into the main hall, hands clasped behind her back, raising her chin with exaggerated gravity to stare at the hanging plaque.
Two graceful maidservants shadowed her every step. One of them, noticed by the Li family from a young age for her martial talent, had been rigorously trained and had attained moderate success. But to the Li family's core members, this was no more than breeding exotic pets. They never truly hoped the girl would become a martial master. In households of such wealth, where walls were high and rules absolute, an overachieving servant could become more threat than asset.
Tao Zi skipped through the courtyard, circling about in cheerful leaps. She didn't overstep, never straying outside, and didn't trouble the servants.
The ape...