The Limit

Inside a thatched cottage that served as a village school, devoid of any plaque, the middle-aged scholar Qi Jingchun sat in silent meditation. It wasn't a renowned ancient game or a review of a match between grandmasters.

As he was about to place a white stone on the board, he sighed. The scholar, who had already decided where to place the piece, suddenly hesitated. He withdrew his hand, but the stone remained suspended in mid-air, still an inch above the board.

Qi Jingchun remained seated upright. As the current sage responsible for overseeing this place, one of the Seventy-two Confucian Academies, and the former mountain master of Cliff Academy, even though he had been demoted here to atone for his mistakes, Qi Jingchun was still an undisputed refined scholar of his time.

For the ordinary folk of the small town, the cycle of plants withering and flourishing marked the passage of years, and the seasons turned in the blink of an eye. The teaching scholars had changed several times, each with a different appearance and age. Yet, that indescribable scholarly aura remained consistent: rigid, demanding, taciturn, and generally uninteresting. No one suspected that these transient village school teachers were actually the same person. Furthermore, beyond the small town, in the vast world, the reclusive Mr. Qi had once held a transcendent and esteemed position, possessing supreme divine abilities of righteous spirit.

In the next moment, Qi Jingchun's soul departed his body for a journey. Like an immortal with flowing white robes, he instantly broke free from the cage of his physical form and drifted towards an alley in the town.

Qi Jingchun arrived in the alley in an instant. He first went to check on the woman lying in a pool of blood, Cai Jinjian of Cloud Mist Mountain. Her three souls and seven spirits were flickering and dissipating, like a candle in the wind.

After a brief pause, Qi Jingchun finally arrived beside the two individuals.

The young city lord of Old Dragon City, with his tall hat and wide sleeves, leaned back slightly, his eyes wide with disbelief. A complex expression, a mixture of shock, confusion, and despair, played on his jade-like, handsome face.

The youth maintained his sharp, lunging posture, as if leaping forward to attack. His left hand held a piece of porcelain, sharp as a blade. Even at this critical moment, where life hung by a thread, the airborne youth's eyes remained resolute, his expression calm. He didn't seem like an ignorant youth born in a humble alley or a small dwelling, raised in the wilderness. Perhaps the only thing befitting his status was the hidden helplessness deep within his eyes. For such helplessness, scholars who had left their studies and academies many years ago were no strangers. It was like watching a farmer who depended on the sky for his livelihood, squatting on the parched, cracked ridges of his field during the dry season, looking up at the scorching sun. There would be no heart-wrenching emotions, only deep helplessness and bewilderment.

As the temporary master of this domain, Qi Jingchun naturally knew the background of Chen Ping'an's family of three, even tracing back a hundred or a thousand years. Even without having personally seen the youth's ancestors, he could largely deduce their lineage. The principle was simple: just as a county magistrate could ascertain the lineage of his subjects by visiting the household registration office and examining the archives, it was all clear.

The small town, after more than three thousand years of development and proliferation, had spread its branches far beyond its borders, its roots intertwined. This was because each generation had produced several exceptionally talented individuals. Although they couldn't return to their hometown in glory, they could secretly support their families, ultimately leading to the current prosperity of the Four Clans and Ten Tribes in the town.

Chen Ping'an's family also had a long history. Their ancestors had once been prosperous and wealthy. However, after two dramatic turns of fortune, in East Treasure Bottle Continent, with its countless vassal states and numerous dynasties, they gradually fell into obscurity and were supplanted by other surnames. Over a thousand years, their fortunes declined. By the generation of the youth's father, this branch of the Chen clan in the small town had almost completely declined throughout East Treasure Bottle Continent. Not to mention within the territory of the Great Li Dynasty where the town was located, it was as if they were officials under a royal decree of "never to hold office for generations," with no possibility of the family ever rising again.

Since Qi Jingchun came to oversee the operation of the great formation, for over sixty years, he had strictly adhered to the master's teachings of "upright and peaceful," never altering the fate of the town's residents based on his personal likes or dislikes. Otherwise, in the eyes of this scholar who had once hated evil, there was too much filth in the prominent families of the town, and too much poverty in the humble households. However, after observing with cold detachment, Qi Jingchun saw the futile helplessness of the large clans and grand residences, and the extreme wickedness of the small households. Over time, Qi Jingchun became like a statue on a high pedestal, neither enjoying offerings nor accepting favors, simply sitting with his hands clasped, indifferent to worldly affairs.

Qi Jingchun was slightly surprised. He took a step forward and looked closely, nodding gently. It turned out that the impoverished youth, who had been full of momentum, seemed determined to kill Fu Nanhua in this attack, vowing not to stop until he succeeded. However, based on his current posture, the youth would ultimately only smash his wrist heavily onto Fu Nanhua's neck. This would be far better than Cai Jinjian's fate. Fu Nanhua should have been struck heavily, sent flying horizontally towards the wall, and then had his neck gripped by the youth while the porcelain shard was held against his abdomen.

Qi Jingchun was somewhat curious why the youth hadn't delivered a killing blow this time. It was a fleeting opportunity, and the consequences could be endless. Qi Jingchun was a refined scholar who adhered to etiquette but not rigid dogma; he wasn't a pedantic scholar who only recited classics. He was all too familiar with people like Fu Nanhua, both in terms of their aptitude and temperament. Even if threatened by the youth in the alley today and forced to temporarily abandon his revenge, this incident would undoubtedly be the greatest humiliation of the young man's life, to the point of affecting his Dao heart. In that case, it wouldn't be Fu Nanhua himself who would haggle with the youth, but the entire Old Dragon City, the Lord of the South Sea.

Qi Jingchun's intervention to stop the youth from killing consecutively had a degree of selfishness, but more importantly, it was for justice. The town was now like a cracked piece of porcelain, destined to shatter sooner or later. Qi Jingchun had to slow down this unstoppable trend and arrange a way out for as many people as possible. Ideally, it could be peacefully handed over to the blacksmith "Master Ruan," and by enduring the last sixty years, a relatively happy ending could be achieved. Those on the mountain would gain opportunities, and those below would gain peace. One must know that given the usual nature of the former, whenever the path collapsed, old giving way to new, opportunities arose, and longevity was within reach, the lives of hundreds or thousands of ants at the foot of the mountain meant nothing!

The heartlessness of secular dynasties was insignificant compared to the impartiality of the Great Dao revered by many cultivators.

Qi Jingchun pondered for a moment and then quietly concealed his presence.

The world turned, flowing smoothly and without hindrance.

The previous limit was quietly shattered.

The youth's wrist "finally" smashed heavily onto Fu Nanhua's neck. The latter's head jolted, and he was sent flying horizontally towards the alley wall, disoriented by the immense force. After landing, the youth swiftly closed in and struck Fu Nanhua's abdomen with an elbow.

Fu Nanhua did not stand up straight against the wall. The youth's elbow strike made him almost vomit bitter water, and his body instinctively curled up.

The youth gripped Fu Nanhua's neck with one hand and pressed the porcelain shard against the abdomen of the high-hatted young master with the other.

Fu Nanhua found it hard to imagine how the slender youth, a head shorter than him, could possess such immense grip strength. Especially the sharpness and coldness of the porcelain shard against his abdomen made the young city lord of Old Dragon City feel the approach of death once again, separated by a hair's breadth from the realm of the living.

Fu Nanhua, of course, had no idea of the astonishing potential unleashed by a child who, in his youth, had to search the mountains and plains for herbs, driven by a desire stronger than his own survival.

When that youth mistakenly ate a herb and writhed in pain in the alley, that determination was enough to make a child who should have been studying in a village school think of crawling home to put the basket of medicinal herbs back.

Later, chopping wood to make charcoal, shaping clay for pottery, digging for soil to taste, and so on, no task failed to test the youth's strength and endurance.

Outside the town, Fu Nanhua could easily crush a hundred or even a thousand youths with a bit of immortal arts. However, choosing to fight him to the death within the town was truly pushing his luck to the extreme; he had kicked an iron board.

Fu Nanhua, struck by both intense pain and humiliation, lost his head. His face contorted as he snarled, "If you kill me, you're doomed! If you don't kill me, you're still going to die! You little bastard, you're dead no matter what!"

Chen Ping'an tilted his head slightly, staring at the man with a frenzied expression, and said, "You know, I don't want to kill you. We have no enmity. I'm only fighting back because you want to harm me."

Fu Nanhua sneered, "Little bastard, you think you're worthy of talking reason with Fu Nanhua?"

He deliberately emphasized, "Are you worthy?!"

Chen Ping'an was silent for a moment, then asked, "Do you have to kill me?"

When Fu Nanhua saw the dark-skinned youth's eyes, he suddenly calmed down.

Fu Nanhua's face, choked by the youth's hand, turned red, then pale, and finally purple. In reality, the youth hadn't increased his grip strength, but it was enough to suffocate a healthy adult male to death.

Fu Nanhua said with difficulty, "If I say I won't kill you, will you believe me?"

He struggled violently.

But almost simultaneously, the youth increased his grip, causing Fu Nanhua's arm, which had slightly moved his fingers, to hang limply.

Chen Ping'an shook his head.

Fu Nanhua became increasingly dizzy. Although he wished he could smash this bastard's head with a single blow, he still tried to maintain a pleasant expression, adding, "What if I swear to heaven? People like us can't just swear casually."

Fu Nanhua played a trick. While Buddhist vows and oaths made in the heart of cultivators indeed carried significant binding force, it was evident that Fu Nanhua was only telling half the truth. Even if he swore, it would only be lip service. It wouldn't be a solemn oath that was "unwritten but no different from being carved into the heart's chamber," so whether he would abide by it afterward would depend solely on his mood. Moreover, there were ways to break the heart oaths of cultivators, depending on the cost. Generally, the cost was directly related to the cultivator's realm and the gravity of the oath.

Unexpectedly, the straw-sandaled youth still shook his head.

Fu Nanhua, whose breathing became increasingly difficult, lost the spirit to negotiate and became somewhat dazed for no apparent reason.

Was he going to die?

Just like that pathetic Cai Jinjian, and to die at the hands of a little bastard?

Then, when this terrible news reached Old Dragon City, would it become a laughingstock for the entire city?

He didn't even have the chance to reach for the hidden mechanism on his jade belt. The white jade belt tied around his waist was actually the residual essence of a flood dragon.

"That's enough."

A heavenly voice sounded in both their ears. To Fu Nanhua, it was like a heavenly sound, though he happened to be fainting, and he wasn't sure if it was an illusion.

Chen Ping'an turned his head in astonishment.

He saw Mr. Qi, who was radiant and ethereal.

The latter smiled without speaking.

Chen Ping'an's gaze returned to its unwavering tenacity, his right hand never loosening its grip.

Qi Jingchun felt neither annoyance at his good intentions being misunderstood nor the satisfaction of seeing a promising talent. He simply waved his sleeve gently towards the straw-sandaled youth, as if "scooping" something into his hand.

The Confucian sage opened his palm to look and let out a chuckle.

A mass of filth, like ink.

It turned out that the sentiment someone had planted in the youth had dimmed, its light extinguished, clearly having died long ago.

Looking up again at the youth Chen Ping'an, Qi Jingchun felt a touch of regret and sighed, "No wonder the Master said that in this world, transcendent talent is secondary to success; it is an unyielding will that is paramount. Chen Ping'an, you have taught me another lesson on behalf of the Master. It's just a pity that I, Qi Jingchun, no longer have the chance to take on a final disciple."