Shortly after the straw-shoed youth departed the room, the maiden clad in azure stomped her foot, ready to follow him. Yet, she was halted by the stern voice of the middle-aged man who had transformed from Master Ruan into Lord Ruan, who intoned with grave seriousness:
"Xiuxiu! If you meddle now, you will only do harm—drag Chen Ping'an into ruin beyond redemption."
Without turning around, Ruan Xiu suddenly swiveled her head; her glossy black ponytail traced a graceful arc through the air. Her eyes blazed fiercely as she chided, nearly reproachful:
"Father, you stayed out of Liu Xianyang's affairs, yet what was the outcome?"
The man hesitated, words caught in his throat, but ultimately kept the secret sealed, his voice deep and resolute:
"Trust your father—at this moment, the greatest aid you can offer that youth is to discreetly impart the secrets and rules of this small enclave, urging him to act within its bounds. To seize every advantage of timing, place, and circumstance, even a fraction is worth striving for."
Ruan Xiu seemed to grasp only partially, wavering uncertainly. The man waved a hand, patiently reminding her:
"A single thread tugs the whole body. You are my daughter, Ruan Qiong's bloodline. That boy from Clay Bottle Alley—though he cast a stone into the pond, its ripples are limited, and the old turtle beneath remains undisturbed. That means matters here can be maneuvered. But you, Ruan Xiu, are different. Remember well: in every great matter, maintain calm. I've always urged you to study harder, yet you refuse! Your temperament is even less steady than that rustic boy's—shameful, given you practice the Way."
As soon as these words escaped his lips, the man regretted them. No matter how stern a man might be, he could not resist the urge to undermine himself before his own daughter. Fortunately, the girl did not seem offended, instead swiftly leaving the room and leaving him in a swirl of conflicted feelings.
The man, originally named Ruan Qiong, sat down on a stool, gripping the tall youth's wrist. The tangled pulse he detected was dreadful indeed. His own sour mood deepened, his face darkening as he vented:
"Qi Jingchun is truly infuriating. At Zhengyang Mountain, such reckless deeds—though it's impossible to expel him officially, at least some punishment should be meted out. A warning to others. Even if killing isn't allowed, a few blows wouldn't hurt, right? Otherwise, this realm will see ever more newcomers of dubious character flooding in and chaos will reign. What, are you planning to leave me a shattered mess when you step down soon? Where is the scholar's responsibility?"
The clumsy old healer sitting nearby watched silently, lest his tongue bring trouble, only venting his scorn in his mind: "Maintain calm in great matters, they said?"
After finishing his complaint, Ruan Qiong sighed:
"Qi Jingchun's bound hands are his fate. You may disregard my earlier words as mere wind, but heed this one well."
The old shopkeeper of Yang Family's store had been eavesdropping and was duly impressed, thinking: no wonder the next guardian of the enclave is such a saint—the man's face can even block flying swords.
Ruan Qiong suddenly glanced at the elder and grumbled:
"They say a daughter is like spilled water once married out. But damn it, she's not even wed, yet already turning her elbows outward?"
The old man, holding back for a long time, finally summoned courage to speak with honesty, unwilling to betray his iron-clad principles:
"Master Ruan, perhaps it is old age and dimming sight, but I sense that youth doesn't truly care for your Xiuxiu either."
Ruan Qiong shot him a pitying look and snapped decisively:
"No doubt about it—you're the one with failing eyesight!"
The elder returned a sorrowful glance. Neither spoke further.
By the well, Ruan Xiu caught up to Chen Ping'an but said nothing, seemingly unsure how to begin. Chen Ping'an smiled at her, recalling their first meeting near the Blue Ox's back, when he had mistaken her for mute or unable to speak the local dialect. Now he knew she simply preferred silence.
Following the straw-shoed youth's steps toward the covered bridge, the azure-clad maiden finally found courage to speak:
"Chen Ping'an, my name is Ruan Xiu. My father, Ruan Qiong, is a swordsmith. Since childhood, I have worked the forge with him. This time we came to your town because my father's sect entrusted him, and the local environment is perfect for forging sword furnaces. But I know well my father seeks an opportunity for me. He is a man obsessed with face, much like your friend Liu Xianyang. My father truly wanted to take him as a disciple. You might not know, but if my father establishes a sect here, choosing the first disciple is crucial. So he is not callous—please do not blame him."
Chen Ping'an shook his head:
"I hold no grudge against your father."
Pausing, the straw-shoed youth wiped his chin on the back of his hand, voice tinged with bitterness:
"I know I shouldn't blame others, yet I am furious—furious that your father did not accept Liu Xianyang sooner, furious that no one intervened when Liu Xianyang was in trouble, even knowing it was wrong. I still feel that anger."
Ruan Xiu nodded:
"That is only human."
Unwilling to linger, Chen Ping'an asked:
"Miss Ruan, do you have business with me?"
Carefully, she inquired:
"You're not planning to seek revenge on Zhengyang Mountain, are you?"
Chen Ping'an neither denied nor confirmed. Not gifted with words, she blurted out her thoughts:
"Don't be reckless. Zhengyang Mountain is a renowned sect of Dong Baoping Continent. That old ape's status is akin to their ancestor. Though he cannot wield magic here, dealing with him would be easy for them! Also, after he gravely wounded Liu Xianyang, Master Qi will surely punish him, so you need not worry—no one will act as if nothing happened."
Chen Ping'an interrupted:
"Miss Ruan, this 'punishment' you speak of—is it merely expelling a killer from town?"
Ruan Xiu was speechless.
Chen Ping'an smiled, then sincerely reassured her, his gaze clear as a flowing brook:
"I appreciate your kindness, Miss Ruan. I would never foolishly rush in to fight such a celestial. "
Relieved, she patted her chest out of habit, perhaps feeling her actions somewhat immature and unrefined, unlike a proper lady. Her smile grew shy. Chen Ping'an smiled as well:
"Last time I gave you only three fish—that was stingy of me."
Ruan Xiu blushed and quickly asked worriedly:
"What about your left hand?"
He lifted his well-wrapped left hand:
"It's fine now, no longer a hindrance."
Gathering her thoughts, she spoke slowly:
"Chen Ping'an, please don't act rashly. Master Qi's position is precarious, and when he and my father hand over the reins, the town may face sweeping changes—whether for better or worse, it's uncertain. Stability must be preserved."
Chen Ping'an nodded:
"Understood."
Ruan Xiu felt an inexplicable urgency. Deep down, she was restless—by nature, she would have charged at that old ape from Zhengyang Mountain. Now, she was compelled to counsel the youth against rashness, betraying her own instincts. But as she said herself, the tide of fate favored steadiness. Her reckless interference would surely draw her father's involvement and quell trouble, but Chen Ping'an must face life or death on his own.
After parting, Chen Ping'an dashed toward the covered bridge.
There, at the southern stone steps, sat a maiden with swords piled beside her, her expression solemn. She wore a deep green robe, her narrow brows tightly knit, lips pressed firmly together. Beside her lay two exquisitely embroidered golden silk pouches.
As Chen Ping'an hurried to the foot of the steps, Ning Yao dropped the bags of coins with a calm tone:
"Return to you."
He caught them with both hands, speechless for a moment.
Ning Yao, stern-faced, said:
"You promised to ensure Liu Xianyang's safety. I have failed. I, Ning Yao, have wronged both you and Liu Xianyang!"
She knew well that in this town, a youth of ordinary stature struck down by a celestial's fist was beyond rescue. Even if there was a sliver of hope for Liu Xianyang, Chen Ping'an's kind nature would never have let him leave the forge, even at the risk of death.
Chen Ping'an climbed the steps and crouched nearby, gently returning the pouches to her, whispering:
"Miss Ning, keep the money. Add it to the pouch my family keeps in Clay Bottle Alley—take it all. I don't need it anymore. If possible, please use it to hire someone to watch over my and Liu Xianyang's homes."
She refused the pouches, laughing bitterly:
"Should I also help you paste Spring Festival couplets and door gods every year?"
Chen Ping'an's expression grew earnest:
"If possible, that would be best."
She nearly fumed with rage, cursing:
"Got smacked in the face by a cow's tail as a child, and now thinks she can justify foolishness? Infuriating! In any case, Chen Ping'an, stay out of this. You think your shabby skills can handle a mountain-moving ape from Zhengyang Mountain? Liu Xianyang was just a fleeting spark of hope for this town. That old man is a giant mountain. You're no match."
Chen Ping'an smiled without offense, almost in pity:
"Miss Ning, your mother must be proud to have you."
Ning Yao's eyes flashed coldly.
Chen Ping'an quickly rose:
"I'll go back now. Please take care of yourself."
With that, the straw-shoed youth turned and walked down the southern stone steps, leaving the green-robed maiden behind, staring after him with a complicated expression.