After returning to Fulu Town, a brief and light sparring match took place with Song Changjing, the vassal prince of Dali. The old ape of Zhengyang Mountain did not linger long at the Li residence; instead, he swiftly dashed out of town. Pausing briefly where the straw-shoed youth had entered the mountain, the elder then retreated to his previous striking spot, carefully scrutinizing the depth and impressions of the boy's footprints in the muddy ground.
Beyond that, the old ape's keen eyes caught a series of faint adult footprints, likely belonging to the young swordsman from the Wind-Thunder Garden. When he struck the youth from Mud Bottle Alley, that man had clearly tried to take advantage of the situation, briefly releasing a flash of sword qi. Though fleeting and well concealed, the old ape—seasoned in countless battles and having cultivated for a millennium on Zhengyang Mountain, famed for its "Sword Qi Piercing the Treasure Vase" technique—was intimately familiar with the subtleties of sword qi and sword intent.
Having lived so long, this guardian ape of Zhengyang Mountain had witnessed sword immortals skilled in nurturing exquisite flying swords, some possessing dozens of tiny, delicate blades as fine as hairs. He had also seen mighty innate flying swords, colossal as mountains, capable of cleaving rivers with a single strike. After a moment of contemplation, the old ape resumed his journey into the mountain. First came a thicket of overgrown weeds, then a bamboo grove littered with last autumn and winter's fallen leaves. Yet, being nearest to the town, the bamboo forest appeared neither desolate nor disorderly.
Following faint footprints that were difficult to discern, the old ape realized he was about to emerge from the bamboo grove. Instead of exiting directly, he surveyed the surroundings. No youth's footprints were visible on the ground; his gaze lifted—no clear marks on the green bamboo stalks either. Still, he refrained from hastily pursuing further uphill. Instead, he leapt into the air, placing a foot atop a sturdy bamboo stalk, pressing down slightly as his body inclined toward the mountain. The bamboo bent under pressure, nearing its breaking point, when suddenly the elder released his force. His massive frame floated as lightly as a feather, the bamboo swiftly rebounding upright. The old ape stood poised atop the swaying bamboo like an immortal riding the wind.
Scanning the horizon, he finally discerned the faintest clues, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. Gazing leftwards, he keenly pricked his ears and faintly caught the sound of a mountain stream. With a cold sneer, he muttered, "As cunning as ever."
Stepping across one bamboo stalk after another, he headed toward the stream on the left, snapping countless stalks beneath his feet. Upon reaching the water's edge, he hesitated, uncertain whether the straw-shoed youth had followed the stream deeper into the wilderness or fled downstream.
Crouching by the brook, furrowing his brows in frustration, the old ape mused: If this were open terrain imbued with any spiritual energy, he could easily have summoned the local land deity, forcing it to reveal the youth's whereabouts. This was one of his innate divine abilities as the Mountain Moving Ape. No other cultivator, no matter how formidable, could so effortlessly command a local deity. It was like a military minister trying to command a minor clerk in the imperial bureaucracy—they were not even part of the same court.
Listening to the water's flow, the old ape pondered. Most likely, the youth had trained since childhood to climb mountains and wade streams, honing exceptional skills and endurance. Perhaps he had even practiced rudimentary breathing exercises, endowing him with extraordinary physique—nimble, resilient, and robust—enabling him to play a cat-and-mouse game atop rooftops with the old ape. Logically, the boy would hide deep within the familiar forest paths. If merely driven by youthful passion and revenge, once he felt the weight of the threat and fear, he might have fled southward to the blacksmith's shop seeking refuge with Master Ruan. Both scenarios made sense: the former required time, the latter effort and spiritual energy, even consuming the incense offerings of Zhengyang Mountain.
Following his instincts, the old ape declared, "This youth must die." With no further hesitation, he chose to pursue downstream along the creek.
South of the town, a narrow yellow mud path wound through fields of ripening crops. Midway stood a dilapidated small temple—more a resting place for weary villagers during busy harvest seasons, scorching heat, or storms than a holy sanctuary. Here, Chen Ping'an and Ning Yao conferred their plans. Ning Yao's naturally clear sword mind allowed her to see effortlessly in the dark, noticing the temple's weathered walls plastered with children's charcoal graffiti—mostly names, some faded or overwritten, others layered thickly. Higher up were clearer names: Song Jixin, Zhigui, Zhao Yao, Xie Shi, Cao Xi…a long list, likely written by children perched on friends' shoulders. Ning Yao even spotted Liu Xianyang's, Chen Ping'an's, and Gu Can's names clustered awkwardly at the upper left corner.
Pulling back her gaze, Ning Yao asked, "No matter what, the first step is done—we forced the old ape to change his breathing for the first time. But are you really going back to town to retrieve the wooden bow? Isn't that too risky? What if the old ape is cautious and doesn't come looking for you on the mountain? Wouldn't you be walking into a tiger's den?"
The straw-shoed youth breathed quietly, his rhythm fluctuating freely, chasing the most comfortable state. Upon hearing her words, his eyes hardened with resolve: "No choice. The wooden bow must be retrieved, or all our efforts were for nothing! Besides, I fired a direct arrow at the old ape back in Mud Bottle Alley. Like you said, Ning, even at such close range, if the arrow didn't hit his eye, the damage was negligible."
Ning Yao grew vexed. "I told you those petty tricks were useless! You didn't listen before, fine, but now that you believe me, you'll follow my method, right?"
In truth, when the young men and women had initially discussed how to deal with the old ape on the corridor bridge, they decided to act separately. Chen Ping'an only asked the girl to wait for him to return to town and find three others. Yet the boy suddenly changed his mind, catching up with Ning Yao before she descended the stairs at the north end of the bridge. The two had a sharp disagreement. The sword-wielding girl was initially resolute: Chen Ping'an wasn't a cultivator, not even skilled in martial arts; he should just watch and cheer while she handled the old ape, avenging Liu Xianyang and releasing her own pent-up rage. However, when Chen Ping'an asked how she would kill the old ape, Ning Yao refused to explain, only claiming she possessed a secret family technique that allowed her to traverse the world alone, ascending and descending mountains with ease. Chen Ping'an declined to agree, prompting his subsequent efforts to gather allies.
Chen Ping'an rose, stretching his back, feeling sufficiently rested. "I'm ready to move."
Ning Yao, surprised, said, "The things from Yang's blacksmith shop are really useful?"
Chen Ping'an's expression dimmed briefly, then he smiled and nodded. "Very useful."
Ning Yao asked, "Won't the old ape see through your escape route?"
Chen Ping'an considered carefully. "Maybe."
Ning Yao drew two circles and a line on the ground with her sword sheath. "This is the route between the small temple and the Li residence on Fulu Street. Where is your wooden bow hidden?"
Chen Ping'an crouched, drawing a circle. "Near the east side, not far from Mud Bottle Alley."
Ning Yao nodded. "Good. Even if the old ape comes straight to the temple, I'll delay him long enough to give you time."
Chen Ping'an traced a small circle midway along the line. "If the worst happens, Ning, can you lure him here? Where I first entered the mountain. That way, when I get the bow, I can come quickly."
The girl, clad in a deep green robe, planted her sword into the ground and declared proudly, "Maybe by then, I'll be bringing the old ape's head to you."
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "Don't be reckless. Be careful!"
Ning Yao gritted her teeth, wanting to bang her sword sheath on that stubborn head. "Hey! Standing right before you is Ning Yao, future unrivaled Sword Immortal of the world, understood?!"
The youth stood, checked the two cloth bags at his waist, tightened their cords just in case, then smiled. "Got it, got it. So, whatever you do, don't die in some insignificant place like this. Otherwise, what a waste. When you become that great figure, as your friend, I'll bask in your glory."
Ning Yao sighed. "Chen Ping'an, you're so indecisive and fussing over everything. I advise you never to marry, just pick any woman and be done with it."
The youth chuckled without protest and was about to leave the temple when Ning Yao said, "I'll see you to the creek first, then head northwest for a while. That way, the old ape won't worry about the little girl's safety. Once he leaves the bamboo grove, failing to find you, he'll give up the chase and return to town."
Chen Ping'an thought for a moment and did not refuse. Together, they ran toward the creek. The girl's breath flowed like mighty rivers—deep and silent with hidden currents. The youth's breathing resembled the gentle mountain stream—steady and unhurried. Their auras, though unlike, harmonized as they moved.
At the creek's fork, Ning Yao's deep voice issued a command: "Go left first. I'll wait here and block the path."
Chen Ping'an hesitated, then nodded, vanishing swiftly into the dense undergrowth.
The old ape, following his downstream pursuit, soon heard the faintest footsteps behind. He stiffened but remained patient, silently creeping forward, awaiting the right moment to strike...