Chapter 155: The Unpredictability of the Human Heart

In his spare time, Master Lü’s favorite pastime was to find just about anywhere to read a book.

Of course, it was best if there was wine and mutton to accompany it.

The mortal world had its own rules: whether it was a yellow ox, a water buffalo, or even a bull demon king who had attained sentience, cattle were symbolic totems. You should avoid eating them unless absolutely necessary.

They were the beasts that sustained the human race.

"In other words, I can drink like a fish right now, and you aren't allowed to keep an eye on me?" The swordsman sitting opposite him was slouched haphazardly, lacking any proper bearing and looking utterly unprincipled, which irritated Master Lü to no end.

"You, a wielder of the sword, may drink my wine, but don't forget to pay for it later," the old scholar said, his drunkenness setting in. He was too lazy to quote classics and pointed a finger directly at A Fei's nose. "He Chang'an was right: enjoy the wine today while we have it, and let tomorrow's sorrows wait for tomorrow..."

"A rather vulgar phrase, wouldn't you say?" A Fei curled his lips in faint disdain.

"Vulgarity is good. Only with vulgarity is there the warmth of human fireworks."

The old scholar tore off a piece of meat, chewed it slowly, and picked up half a bowl of inferior wine. Seeming somewhat reluctant to drink it, he shook his head and smiled bitterly: "Don't you also think the scent of human fireworks is the most pleasant of all?

"What, today you're thinking of heading up into the mountains again to play around, following those shameless old fogies to put on airs, brag, and spout hot air?"

The swordsman shook his head slightly and said with a serious expression, "He Chang'an has gone up the mountain."

"Let him go, then. It's just a Sword Gate Pass," the old scholar said with a wide, grinning smile. "What is meant to be his opportunity, no one can take away. However, that old white-haired monkey is still a bit too impatient. He doesn't stop to think: since he is half a student of mine, why would I not guide his cultivation myself?

"It's all because of this damn world—not only has the legacy been broken, but even human hearts have broken along with it!"

The old scholar was furious. He downed the wine in his bowl in one gulp, a red ring appearing around his eyes, and his full head of gray hair thoroughly disheveled: "Leaving aside the Western Buddhist Realm for the moment—after all, those whose paths differ cannot make plans together, and that old monk has been pressed and beaten by the Demon race army for nearly a thousand years without a clear, definitive victory or defeat anyway.

"On the other hand, those old Taoist hypocrites of the Taoist sect are actually helping mortal emperors and generals defy the heavens and change their destinies. Using pills and underhanded methods to extend the lives of the imperial family is simply beyond foolish."

"There were already hardly any drops of national fortune left, and now look: that damn emperor has actually quietly broken through the bottleneck, advancing to a tier-two martial artist..."

"Old man, are you drunk?" The swordsman gazed coldly at the old scholar, seeming disinclined to listen to these mundane, nonsensical troubles. "You're a teacher, why do you care so much about all this nonsense?

"With that idle time, why not come with me to wander the territory of the Demon race, or take a trip to the Extreme North? Wouldn't that be much more refreshing?"

The old scholar squinted at A Fei the swordsman and suddenly laughed.

"You, you're still just a stubborn block of elm wood, impossible to carve!"

The swordsman did not reply. He merely grabbed a piece of mutton and chewed it slowly, as if all his focus was on savoring the essence of the food, showing no anger at the old scholar's sarcasm.

Of course, the main reason was that he couldn't beat this old fellow...

"Don't you really want to go to Sword Gate Pass?" the swordsman asked abruptly. "If those old hypocrites find out He Chang'an is your disciple, they'll probably make things difficult for him..."

The swordsman smiled with sly malice.

"Let them make things difficult. Isn't it just a pair of tight shoes? If He Chang'an can't even endure a pair of tight shoes, what right does he have to be my half-student?

"Besides, those old hypocrites actually do possess some genuine skill. Let He Chang'an follow them and learn. As for how much he can pick up, that will depend on the will of the heavens... No, wait, that will depend entirely on himself.

"After all, this damn heavens has long since found this mortal world unpleasing to the eye."

As the old scholar spoke, his emotions built up to a crescendo. He picked up his wine gourd and took a wild, frantic swig, then laughed with heroic spirit: "Let's go, let's go beat up that Li Qinglian to vent our spleen."

"Eh... Why beat Li Qinglian?" The swordsman was somewhat baffled and couldn't help tilting his head to ask.

"His master made a wager with me back then, saying that although the old fogies of his Taoist sect couldn't beat this old man, the Taoist sect had far more disciples and would definitely make my student cry.

"Since you're a vagrant who refuses to become my disciple, I have no choice but to go beat up Li Qinglian to vent my frustration."

A Fei the swordsman tilted his head, thought for a moment, but ultimately failed to untangle the old scholar's logic, feeling as though he had been led in circles by the man's words.

However, seeing the old fellow's look of absolute certainty and righteous indignation, he couldn't be bothered to care anymore.

Studying books was not his forte, nor did he enjoy it.

But fighting? He knew how to do that.

And he enjoyed it very much.

...

In the city of Chang'an, atop the Star-Plucking Tower, Li Qinglian wore a bitter expression as he gazed out toward the Extreme North, muttering, "Is there no reason left in this world?"

"State Preceptor, what has happened?" The emperor's square face, radiating natural authority, was filled with concern. "Scholars simply have too many affairs; at the drop of a hat, they speak of loyalty to the state and the common people of the world, though such rare loyalty is indeed hard to come by."

His tone carried a heavy trace of disdain.

Hearing this, Li Qinglian casually glanced down at the city of Chang'an beneath his feet. His expression stiffened slightly, but he said nothing more.

As the State Preceptor, he had his own considerations. As for the emperor's grievances, one could simply listen and let them pass—he couldn't very well stand face-to-face and lecture him on grand principles. If he did that, how would he be any different from those pedantic scholars?

The Taoist sect had its own infallible methods.

"State Preceptor, I have already instructed Lord Zheng to arrange the suppression of the remnants of the Night God Cult," the emperor said, glancing at Li Qinglian. His handsome, majestic eyes flashed with a trace of imperceptible anger.

"My empire will not tolerate scholars pointing fingers, let alone ghostly tribes and demonic entities making reckless remarks. If they want to fight, then let me clear them out first before discussing anything else."

"Your Majesty's thoughts and considerations are profound and far-reaching; how could a mere minister presume to guess them?" Li Qinglian smiled faintly and raised a bowl of tea. "Your Majesty, the tea has grown cold."

The emperor fell silent for a long moment, then suddenly broke into a bright smile. "For decades, this is the first time you've ever actively asked me to leave, State Preceptor."

Li Qinglian shook his head with a bitter smile but remained silent.

The emperor stood atop the Star-Plucking Tower, gazed for a moment at the city of Chang'an beneath his feet, took a single step forward, and appeared a hundred feet away. With another flicker, he vanished entirely.

*Could this emperor have broken through the third tier of martial artists and advanced to the second?*

Atop the Star-Plucking Tower, a middle-aged man wearing a blue robe and a bamboo hat slowly climbed to the ninth floor. He stood right beside Li Qinglian, accompanying the State Preceptor in gazing toward the imperial palace.

*What are you here for again? Do you feel the world isn't chaotic enough, and want to add fuel to the fire?* Li Qinglian glared at the middle-aged man and said irritably.

The two communicated through the Taoist "Voice-Transmission Technique," not even moving their lips—somewhat akin to the Confucian "Telepathic Resonance."

*I just came to check on my senior brother along the way. Is that a crime?*

The middle-aged man chuckled and continued his face-to-face telepathic transmission: *Still angry about what happened last time? Those old coots from Mount Longhu grew restless and stripped you, the Grand Preceptor, of your face—that was their fault. Shall the two of us brothers storm their doorstep and demand an explanation?*

Li Qinglian sat down with an irritated expression, drained half a bowl of cold tea in one gulp, and transmitted back: *You'd better worry about yourself. Scheming against a scholar's disciple—be careful you don't bite off more than you can chew.*

The middle-aged man chuckled, completely unbothered. He removed the bamboo hat from his head, revealing a handsome and refined face—it was none other than Hu Buyan.

*To speak the truth...*

*Fine. That phrase means you're simply here to hoodwink people.*

*Alright, alright, let's cut straight to the point. Haha, speaking the truth... isn't that He Chang'an actually a fine sapling? Could it be that you, the Grand Preceptor, aren't tempted?*

*He is already a chess piece of that old scholar. Do you think my skin is itching for a beating?*

*Growing restless, Senior Brother, your skin has been itching for a century or two. Why pin all the blame on your junior brother? Alright, I won't bicker with you anymore. I came here this time because there's a matter I need to verify with you, Senior Brother.*

*Spit it out if you have something to say.*

*Hehe, back when you left the sect and fought with those old coots from Mount Longhu, what was the actual outcome? Don't feed me any useless nonsense; I just want to know whether that Grand Master Zhang's Taoist magic and divine abilities really condensed his elixir into a nascent soul.*
*Or has his talisman-crafting art truly reached the point of defying the heavens?*

Li Qinglian turned his head, stared at Hu Buyan, and remained silent for a long time.

His gaze was hazy, as if he were recalling something.

Hu Buyan was unsurprised by this. He poured himself a bowl of tea, smacked his lips as if drinking fine wine, and looked thoroughly satisfied.

*He threw out only a single finger.*

*A single finger?*

*That's right. With just a single finger, he flicked Senior Brother here into a tumble, and I had to flee in panic. I didn't even have a chance to draw my sword in front of him. The so-called Taoist magic and divine powers were like child's play in Master Zhang's eyes.*

*A single finger can sever a river?*

Hu Buyan seemed somewhat unconvinced. He tilted his head to think for a moment and smiled: *Aren't you the State Preceptor? You have nearly half of Great Tang's national fortune bound to you. If you were to genuinely fight him out, he probably wouldn't have an easy time of it, right?*

*What nonsense are you spewing!* Li Qinglian's expression shifted slightly, and he rebuked, *National fortune is not something to be played with lightly!*

*Heh, what national fortune? Isn't it just a toy for you and the Li family? Do you really take your junior brother for a fool? In the eyes of you and the Lis, can national fortune and the common people truly outweigh eternal youth?*

Li Qinglian fell silent.

This Hu Buyan spoke of everything, and while his words were somewhat grating to the ear, they were impossible to refute.

The State Preceptor even felt a twinge of regret. Back when he was cultivating in the mountains, he really should have devoted himself wholeheartedly to practice—at least breaking through the bottleneck to reach the peak of the Golden Core realm. That way, when facing this junior brother of his, he could have just given him a solid slap across the face instead of bothering with reason!

*Senior Brother possesses supreme comprehension, unmatched among fellow disciples, but cultivation ultimately relies on opportunity. Since you can't beat me and are just standing there puffing your beard and staring, what's the matter—did your wife die?*

Hu Buyan transmitted telepathically with a beaming smile, his handsome and refined face full of smug triumph.

*You can grant that He Chang'an some benefits and opportunities, but don't scheme too heavily, otherwise... the old scholar won't spare you.* Li Qinglian finally voiced his lingering concern.
*Master Lü led that kid all the way to this Star-Plucking Tower some time ago, reasoned quite forcefully, and extorted a massive pile of pills, magic treasures, and talismans. Right in front of me, he turned around and handed them straight to He Chang'an—clearly a warning for our Taoist sect not to meddle too deeply in certain affairs.*

Hearing this, Hu Buyan's expression gradually grew solemn: *No wonder. I was wondering how your natal flying sword ended up in the hands of a crude martial artist, and why the spiritual consciousness upon it was nearly wiped away.*

Li Qinglian shook his head with a bitter smile and said bluntly, "If you can't beat someone, what other choice do you have?

"If the Confucian school consisted entirely of pedantic scholars—people like Li Yi Shan, Wen Taiyuan, and Du Shisan—everything would be easy to talk about. The problem is that madman Lü simply doesn't... reason with people."

Hu Buyan looked left and right, his expression turning bitter. "Senior Brother, you're going to ruin me. You knew full well that man wanted to hear those words, yet you deliberately made me follow up with the cursing. I've truly lifted a rock only to drop it on my own feet this time."

"It's not that serious," Li Qinglian chuckled. "Master Lü's seniority is higher than ours; he won't hold a grudge against two juniors. At most, he'll just kick us a few times or rap our palms."

"This is completely out of hand! Completely out of hand!"

Hu Buyan threw a tantrum outright, fuming as he said, "That master of ours is utterly out of hand! How could he run off to the outer realms ages ago to slaughter demons and monsters, leaving us junior brothers here with no one to care for us..."

After speaking, he looked around, his eyes filled with vigilance, which actually managed to rouse a chuckle from Li Qinglian.

"You, anything that comes out of your mouth sounds completely absurd."

"To each his own. Junior brother here regrets not going to study at the academy first before cultivating under that old Taoist coot of a master, hehe."

...

Meanwhile, beneath Sword Gate Pass, He Chang'an was suffering bitterly and in a sorry state.

The Taoist breathing technique, the martial cultivation method, coupled with a nameless ancient fist technique and the Qi of vast righteousness—once he circulated all of them simultaneously, his strength indeed increased dramatically, allowing him to push forward over a hundred feet in one go toward the city wall.

Seeing that he was only a few dozen feet away from reaching the wall, however, a ruckus began within his dantian and spiritual sea.

First came rolling waves of spiritual Qi, and while his heart-lake wasn't experiencing towering storms, it certainly alarmed him deeply, causing him to start worrying whether he had overshot his mark this time.

Without external pressure, he had managed to piece these cultivation methods together over the past few days without any actual issues. He even had confidence that after three to five years of tempering, they would fuse perfectly.

Right now, however, compressed by the Qi force, sword Qi, and the power of the city wall's protective barrier, a secret panic began to take root in his heart.

This cultivation method was looking a bit precarious.

If he wasn't careful, he might well suffer a deviation in his cultivation...