There were many people of the jianghu.
They came from the rivers and lakes, and had to cross rivers and lakes to go on their way.
So a crowd of jianghu folk stopped at the ferry landing, asking the passing ferries their prices.
Because of the martial arts tournament, the place had become unusually lively, and ferry fares had risen a little. But to these wandering martial artists, that was naturally nothing worth mentioning.
It was only a few extra copper coins.
Generally, though, those willing to pay for a ferry were either jianghu folk of modest martial skill or idle spectators who had come specifically to watch the excitement.
Those skilled enough simply used their lightness arts to skim across the water. Why would they bother taking a ferry?
Just such a sight appeared now.
"Who is that old man? He's crossing the river on nothing but a bamboo pole!"
Someone at the riverbank landing asked in astonishment.
Everyone hurriedly turned to look.
On the river, a hundred meters deep, an old man with the bearing of an immortal stood on a bamboo pole, his hands clasped behind his back and his expression relaxed. He swayed leisurely across the river, looking as though he might fall at any moment, yet remaining perfectly steady. Calmly and peacefully, he crossed to the opposite bank.
"Look how easily that old man crosses the river on a single pole. He must be some sect's patriarch, but his face is so unfamiliar. I've never seen him before."
"Perhaps some great figure who never ventures into the world has come. We'd better watch our mouths. These old monsters are terrifying. If he hears us carelessly discussing him, nothing good will come of it."
The jianghu folk shut their mouths and stopped discussing him, afraid of bringing trouble upon themselves. These old jianghu monsters had unpredictable tempers, and were all the more terrifying when angered.
Besides, this old man was not particularly outstanding. In the few days since they had arrived at the Water of the Heavenly Altar, they had encountered plenty of formidable figures, including legendary great heroes!
They could now count themselves as well-traveled and knowledgeable, and would not be too alarmed over a single old monster. For now, they still had to think about crossing the river, so they turned toward a ferry and asked.
"Hey, boatman, how much per person to cross?"
The boatman was a middle-aged fellow. He replied with a smile, "Thirty copper coins a head. Please step aboard."
They frowned. "Thirty is a bit too expensive. We brothers aren't short of money, but we're not about to let ourselves be fleeced like suckers. It leaves a bad taste. We'll look around and ask elsewhere."
The boatman shook his head, still smiling. "Suit yourselves, then. But a word of warning: that's the going rate for crossing now, and mine's on the low side."
They did not answer, discussing things among themselves as they headed for another ferry.
Watching them leave, the boatman shook his head helplessly and muttered to himself, "With so many people taking boats, of course the price has to go up a little. Business depends on the season."
He casually draped the towel from his shoulder over the cabin, then turned toward a smaller ferry on his right and called out.
"Brother Chen, aren't you taking your boat out yet? It's almost noon. The best time for business is here."
There was no movement inside the little boat. Only after a long while did slow footsteps sound. A languid figure emerged and leaned casually against the cabin, answering the middle-aged man in an even tone.
"I'm not doing business. I simply want to row a boat."
The middle-aged man shook his head helplessly. "You've been here two years already, and you still won't work harder to earn enough money to find yourself a wife."
Chen Xia folded his arms, leaning lazily against the cabin, and replied with a chuckle, "Then I'll just wait for a wife to come find me."
The middle-aged fellow was amused by Chen Xia's words. He simply sat down on his boat and offered his assessment.
"You're certainly handsome and refined enough to win young women's hearts."
"But getting married and starting a family takes more than a young woman's agreement. You need her parents' blessing too. Without money for a betrothal gift, how will you get that?"
Chen Xia's thinking took an unusual turn, and he instantly found a solution. "Then I'll find a young woman without parents."
The man froze, apparently never having considered that line of thought. After a moment's silence, he tried again.
"A young woman without parents is hard to find. Besides, girls without parents are used to hardship, so they're even more materialistic and have higher standards."
Chen Xia slid down against the cabin and sat straight onto the bed, replying with a smile.
"Then I'll find a rich woman."
The middle-aged man fell silent. He looked Chen Xia over several times, and only after a long while did he reply in a subdued tone.
"You really are quite suited to that."
Their conversation ended there. The middle-aged man picked up his water flask, took a rice ball from his bag, and ate it with plain boiled water.
It was almost noon, the busiest time for business. He would have no time to eat then, so he had to eat now to replenish his strength.
As he ate, the man turned toward the neighboring cabin and discovered that Chen Xia had already ducked inside and vanished from sight.
He frowned slightly. Brother Chen had come to the Altar of Heavenly Water two years ago, saying that he was traveling through, thought the scenery was nice, and had stayed to row a boat.
But he really was terrible at running his ferry business.
He rowed whenever he felt like it, and left the fare up to his passengers, never asking for anything.
Very strange.
Strangest of all, Chen Xia rarely left his cabin, and no one had seen him eat much either, though no one looked into it.
The middle-aged man shook his head too, not bothering to concern himself. His own life was hard enough. Why worry about someone else?
Chen Xia lay inside the cabin, staring blankly at the ceiling. He felt less and less inclined to move these days, perhaps because his Great Turtle Breathing Technique was nearing major completion.
Or perhaps it was simply because he was lazy.
Who knew?
Chen Xia rolled over and took a small mirror from inside his robe to examine his face.
He looked less and less like his former self. His brows and eyes, features, and face had all changed a little.
Put simply.
He had become more handsome.
Only his languid, easygoing air remained unchanged.
He shook his head, put the mirror away, and sank his Divine Sense inward to check his Spirit Dragon Qi.
[Spirit Dragon Qi 150/1000]
The Spirit Dragon Qi granted by the bows to the State Preceptor had dwindled more and more. It had only reached 150 after eight years. At this rate, filling it would probably take two or three hundred years.
Fortunately, Chen Xia could afford to wait, so it was no matter.
He had also put all the points earned over these eight years into luck. His strength remained at 35, while his Law Power was 0.
His luck was now 13. Occasionally, large fish would leap straight onto his boat.
Finding money while walking was child's play by comparison.
But it was still not enough. Chen Xia would keep adding to his luck.
Luck affected cultivation methods and constitution. As long as he raised it high enough, anything would be possible in the future.
That was the mystery of it.
He yawned and looked out the window. The blazing sun hung overhead, waves of heat rolling through the air. Noon had arrived, the best time for the ferry business.
But that had nothing to do with him.
The ferries moored nearby took on passengers one after another and headed slowly toward the opposite bank.
Many people were still waiting at the landing under the blazing sun.
And before them sat a little boat that had never moved.
Some scions of aristocratic clans were impatient by nature and could not stand the blazing sun. One walked over to the little boat and shouted.
"Boatman, are you there? Are you taking your boat out or not? I'll pay fifty copper coins!"
There was no response from the little boat. It was very quiet.
The aristocratic scion frowned and shouted again, "Anyone there? Say something! If that's not enough, I'll pay a tael of silver. We can talk about the price. This young master isn't short of money!"
He had barely finished shouting.
A head poked out of the little boat.
The aristocratic scion was just about to rejoice, thinking money really could make ghosts turn the millstone.
Chen Xia tossed out a pair of oars and said casually.
"If you want to cross, row yourself. Pay whatever you like. I'm not short of money either."
He went back into the cabin to lie down. The reason he had handed over the oars was that he liked the rocking of the little boat. With the scenery drifting past, it was very sleep-inducing.
The feeling was much like riding a train in his previous life. Once aboard, he wanted to sleep.
The aristocratic scion stood at the landing, looking rather bewildered, yet not knowing what to say. In the end, he actually boarded the little boat, picked up the oars, and called to the crowd behind him.
"Who wants to row with me?"
Rowing a boat was a novelty, and quite a few people wanted to join in.
And so the boat began moving. Chen Xia lay in the cabin with narrowed eyes, about to be rocked to sleep.
With nothing else to do, the people aboard the little boat began to chat.
"Who do you think will take first place in this martial arts tournament?"
Someone offered an analysis. "The previous number one under heaven, Zuo Feiyang, certainly has a good chance of retaining his title. After all, he isn't old. He's still in his prime."
Someone disagreed. "How can you judge a martial artist by age? The court's Nine Thousand Years has lived for nearly two hundred years, and he's still just as fierce."
"The way I see it, Zuo Feiyang has been dealing with the imperial family these past few years. He's busy with other affairs, with no time to practice, let alone make a breakthrough. Other experts may well have surpassed him already."
They discussed it for a while, covering every possibility, until someone suddenly brought something up.
"What about the immortal? Do you think the immortal will come?"
Everyone froze at those words, then began offering their opinions.
"This is a martial arts tournament of the jianghu. The immortal isn't a man of the jianghu. He's already stepped onto the immortal path, so he should have no reason to come. Besides, it's been five years since he left the imperial city, and there hasn't been a word of him. I heard he's entered secluded cultivation with no intention of emerging until he succeeds. How would he have time for this?"
Someone else hesitated, then offered his own view.
"I heard-and this is only something I heard-that the immortal seems to have gone overseas, looking for a way to enter the immortal realm."
Someone shook his head. "I heard the immortal has already ascended to the immortal realm. That's why there's been no news."
"Uh, I heard his ascension went badly and he was seriously injured. That great thunderstorm in the imperial city five years ago was when he was ascending. It stopped abruptly afterward, which meant his ascension had failed."
"I have some news too. Of course, someone else told me this. I absolutely have no such thoughts myself. I heard the immortal failed to ascend during that great thunderstorm in the imperial city and perished!"
"Stop, stop. You can't go around saying things like that."
Someone hurriedly stopped them, not daring to let the topic continue.
But in their hearts, they all knew.
Everyone in the jianghu hoped the immortal would fall.
Because only when the immortal was gone could the jianghu raise its head!
Otherwise, the immortal would forever be a mountain pressing down upon the jianghu of Great Song!
One man alone could suppress the entire jianghu.
The jianghu's current revival was also because there had been no news of Chen Xia for five years, giving its people the inclination to become a little more active.
Lying in the cabin, Chen Xia listened to their conversation and felt that rumors truly grew more outrageous with every telling.
Now he had already perished. In a few more years, they would probably fast-forward straight to his reincarnation.
They might as well stop bowing on State Preceptor Day from now on.
Just stick three incense sticks in and turn it into a memorial offering instead.
He rolled over again and heard the people outside resume their discussion.
"Have you heard of the Little Immortal?"