The heavens were vast, the river stretched a thousand li, vast and boundless.
Mist drifted like clouds, ten thousand green mountains lined both banks, and on the river floated a single tiny boat.
"Boatman."
The young man's voice carried toward the gaunt old man at the stern.
He straightened the cyan daoist robe he wore, the simple antique scabbard at his waist rocking slightly, revealing a glimpse of the pure white blade within:
"How much longer until we land?"
The gaunt old man scanned both banks, thought for a moment, and said:
"Tomorrow morning!"
The blue-robed swordsman followed the gaunt old man's gaze toward the shore.
"Boatman, how could you tell?"
the swordsman asked.
The gaunt old man grinned, revealing sparse teeth:
"I've traveled the waterways so much, naturally I recognize them!"
Proud of this, the gaunt old man then opened his mouth and began talking:
"Where do you hail from, sir? From your accent, you don't sound like one of the children from either bank of Lu River."
"Liaolong."
The youth replied.
"Liaolong..."
Hearing those words, the gaunt old man fell into a brief silence, as if pondering where this "Liaolong" might be.
"That's a place far from here, you not having heard of it is normal."
The swordsman smiled.
"How far?"
the gaunt old man pressed on.
"Perhaps over ten million li."
"Aye! Young sir, that's not right. I'm old, but I've been plying these Lu River waters my whole life, sailed south and roamed north, seen a fair bit. Don't make fun of me!"
The gaunt old man chuckled, half-complaining.
The young swordsman simply smiled along, saying little.
And the gaunt old man took his silence to mean the youth was unwilling to speak of his true origin.
So he didn't pry further.
As the boatman had boasted, he had spent his life on the Lu River, traveled far and wide, and had seen much.
Thus the gaunt old man began recounting his experiences and observations over the years to the well-dressed young man with the sword at his waist.
He spoke for over an hour.
Twilight deepened.
Seeing that the young man still sat at the bow, bright-eyed and showing no sign of drowsiness, the somewhat parched gaunt old man felt a little surprised:
"Sir, we won't reach Bailing City until tomorrow morning. Why not nap for a bit? I'll wake you when we're near?"
"No need."
The young swordsman shook his head.
"Not tired?"
"A little, but fine."
The gaunt old man grew even more curious about the young man on the boat; such stamina was rare among those who did not live a life on the water.
"May I ask, sir, are you heading to Bailing City for trade, or—?"
the boatman asked.
"Just traveling."
the youth answered.
"To see the customs and people?"
the gaunt old man continued.
"Or perhaps searching for an answer."
"What kind of answer?"
On hearing this, the young swordsman did not answer immediately. He shifted his gaze slightly forward, resting it on the moonlight glittering across the river.
"I don't know yet. But after traveling many roads, some things naturally become known."
Su Hongzhen replied.
...
Five years had passed since the last Dao Inquiry of Chenping Continent.
Now Su Hongzhen was twenty-three.
Over these five years, his cultivation had risen from Martial Spring Realm to the middle stage of Qi Sea Realm.
Shortly after leaving Liaolong, Su Hongzhen parted ways with that ferry.
Although the rogue cultivators on the ferry had declared they would forever follow Champion Su and never take his spirit stones, Little Su still felt uneasy in his heart.
And he knew full well that even if those rogues refused to accept his spirit stones, they would use his name elsewhere to collect spirit stones.
Su Hongzhen did not want to parade around under the title "Champion of Heavenly Summit Mountain."
So he chose to travel alone across the world, drifting like floating duckweed.
This young swordsman had already become accustomed to such a life; ever since the night he escaped his uncle's house at nine years old, he had been wandering.
There had been brief moments of belonging.
For example, the carpenter's household in Matou Village.
Or the days spent with Big Brother and Immortal Master Zhou.
In these five years, Su Hongzhen experienced many things.
He had once gone into the mountains with other cultivators to hunt demonic beasts, only for the group to fall into violent quarrels over how to divide the beast cores.
There had also been people who coveted the Xun-Li Sword at his waist and tried to take it by force.
They were cowed by a single stroke from Su Hongzhen.
Only a few months ago, he had just crossed the Martial Immortal Mountain Range—the boundary between the Western Region and the Northwestern Region—coming from Mirage Palace territory into the domain of Kongshan Sect.
Then he reached the Lu River.
He took a small fishing boat across a thousand li to arrive at Bailing City, the largest city on both banks of the Lu River, as the boatman called it.
Bailing City was no ordinary mundane town. Backed by the White Egret Sect, the greatest cultivation sect at the border of the Western and Northwestern Regions, it hosted many cultivators.
The White Egret Sect could be considered a near top-tier cultivation sect on Chenping Continent. Its current sect leader, Lu Xiu, had reached the peak of Spirit Connection.
Lu Xiu's sudden leap in power had astonished surrounding cultivators, because three years earlier her cultivation was only mid-stage Spirit Connection.
Before that breakthrough, Lu Xiu had been stuck at mid-stage Spirit Connection for over fifty years.
Su Hongzhen's main reason for coming to Bailing City was to gather news about the current state of the cultivation world on Chenping Continent.
After asking around the streets, he went to the largest teahouse in the city.
Only two types of people frequented that teahouse.
One type was the city's noble families and literati.
The other type was cultivators.
Su Hongzhen stepped into the teahouse, scanned the hall, and quickly fixed his attention on an emaciated, crumpled gray-robed one-eyed old man sitting alone at a wooden table.
With his level of worldly knowledge, he could immediately recognize that this old man was an information peddler who sold gossip in the teahouse.
So he walked over to the one-eyed old man.
"One spirit stone, mid-grade."
The one-eyed old man spoke as soon as Su Hongzhen arrived.
That price was reasonable for information.
Normally, the code among such circles was to ask questions first and then haggle over the price.
But this one-eyed man seemed to be doing it the other way around.
Su Hongzhen did not mind. He took a mid-grade spirit stone from his robes and placed it on the wooden table.
"The second private room on the left of the third floor, someone is waiting for you."
The one-eyed old man did not pick up the mid-grade spirit stone on the table; he merely said this, then suddenly lowered his voice to nearly only the blue-robed swordsman’s ears:
"Champion Su."