NOVPUB1133: Dong Ping’s change (2)
1133: Dong Ping’s change (2)
Because he started as a peak-stage palace realm cultivator—and a sword cultivator at that—siring a child proved to be difficult.
Years passed without success, those years turned into decades, which turned into centuries, and eventually millennia without a child.
He went through partner after partner, outliving them all, yet none bore him a child.
He had almost given up—until 1,200 years ago, when he met his current partner.
Unlike the others, he hadn’t chosen her out of a pragmatic need to fulfill his promise.
By then, he had resigned himself to the idea that keeping his word might be impossible.
With his lifespan’s limit slowly approaching, he had decided he might as well attempt the domain realm breakthrough.
If he survived, the considerable lifespan he gained would give him more time to try again, even though the difficulty of siring a child would likely increase tremendously.
But he held off—because of her.
It wasn’t that she stirred his heart the way the sword dao did.
But the repeated failures over the years had left their mark, and his once-rigid character had softened slightly.
On a whim, he chose to linger.
And from that flight of whimsy—without intention or expectation—he ended up fulfilling his promise when she, by happenstance, bore him a child.
Not just one—but twins.
Maybe because of the toll it took to finally have them, when his daughters were born, he found himself enamored by them—just as much as he was by the sword dao.
That deepening attachment only made him postpone his breakthrough further, wanting to remain in their lives a little longer.
But now, with his limit fast approaching, he could no longer afford to delay.
Whether it was for them or the deep yearning he still held for the mysteries of the sword dao, he had to attempt the breakthrough.
And, oddly enough, he felt his odds were marginally better now than they had been 12,000 years ago.
It wasn’t that his understanding of the sword dao had grown sharper over those years but rather, it was from the shift in perception he had gained from everything he had experienced during that time.
His single-minded devotion to the sword had brought him remarkable achievements, but in that pursuit, he had disregarded everything else.
Back then, the sword was his true and only companion.
While he still didn’t regret how he had lived, when he looked back now, he couldn’t deny that his life had been… dull in comparison to the present.
There was a little color to his life now—subtle, yet undeniable.
And though he couldn’t quite explain how, he felt that change had seeped into his understanding of the sword dao, deepening the breadth of his mind, spirit, and, as a consequence, the essence of his sword itself.
Because of that, despite the dangers, he couldn’t wait to attempt the domain realm breakthrough—not just to see how those changes would manifest in his sword dao, but to ensure he could remain in his daughters’ lives.
After all, they had become an irreplaceable part of the transformation he had undergone.
Whatever form his sword dao took after the breakthrough, one of its greatest contributors would be his daughters.
Back then, he regretted making that promise, with it forcing him to step away from cultivating in order to fulfill it.
But now, he regretted not doing it sooner.
He enjoyed being a father just as much as he did pursuing the mysteries of the sword dao—something he never thought possible.
Feeling his nostalgia creeping in, Dong Ping quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the matter at hand.
“With their limits fast approaching, those four founders are, as you’d expect, looking for successors to the merchant company.
They’re choosing said successors from within their ranks, which has led to fierce internal competition amongst its members, with factions cropping up everywhere.
Li Gang must be one of those vying for the position, which explains the peculiarity of his actions.
He likely avoided transporting the heart-quenching mulberry dew in-house to prevent sabotage from other competitors,” Dong Ping said, sharing his insight on the matter.
“So that’s why,” murmured Yang Qing, holding his chin in deep contemplation.
Dong Ping’s explanation aligned with the suspicions that had surfaced in his mind as he considered the aptitudes of the four founders and how they tied to Li Gang’s strange actions.
“The heart-quenching mulberry dew—because of how precious it is—whatever deal he had surrounding it is likely to earn him a lot of merit points and attention from the founders.
I can see why he’d be wary and employ such roundabout means despite the obvious risks involved,” Yang Qing said, voicing his thoughts as one of the mysteries finally began to unravel.
“Do you know him personally?” he suddenly asked, looking up.
“Not deeply, but we’ve had exchanges,” Dong Ping answered.
“Why?”
Yang Qing’s gaze grew sharp.
“Jiang Hao’s disappearance, along with the ferry, could either be the result of coincidental actions… or deliberate,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“If it was deliberate, then it means it was done by someone who knew his route or had some idea of it—and not only that, they knew the timeline…” Yang Qing paused, the weight of the implications settling in.
“Assuming that’s the case, then his colleagues could have been involved,” Dong Ping said, picking up the thread of thought.
“Yes, but it’s not just them who could have known about the route… the guests on board the ferry could have too,” said Yang Qing, a light glimmer flashing in his eyes.
“They might not know the entire route like Jiang Hao’s colleagues, but they have a privilege his colleagues do not…” He trailed off, letting the thought linger.
“They know the destination beforehand,” Fan Mei chimed in.
“Correct,” Yang Qing said, turning his attention to her before shifting his gaze back to Dong Ping.
“You want to meet Li Gang?” Dong Ping asked, connecting the dots.
“Yes,” Yang Qing admitted.
“Is it possible to arrange a meeting with him?”
“I can try and see.
Not sure if he’ll agree, but knowing merchants—especially the highly ambitious sort—he’s more than likely to,” Dong Ping said with a chuckle.
“Thank you in advance,” Yang Qing said, cupping his fists in gratitude.
“It’s just a small matter,” Dong Ping replied casually, brushing it off.
“Is there anything else?” he asked, looking like he was about to rise.
Yang Qing hesitated for a moment before steeling himself.
“There is,” he began, his tone more serious.
“Though… it’s something not related to the commission.”
“Oh?” Dong Ping raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued.
“Fan Mei told me one of your daughters is a cook?” Yang Qing said hesitantly.
He felt slightly awkward—what he was about to bring up wasn’t exactly a light topic, and given that he and Dong Ping were essentially strangers, it made approaching the matter even more thorny.
But since he had already started, he could only follow through.
“She is,” Dong Ping replied.
His tone was soft and carefree, but there was an underlying sharpness and heaviness that wasn’t there before.
Sensing the shift and not wanting to drag things out or risk causing a misunderstanding—one that Dong Ping’s sharp gaze suggested was already forming—Yang Qing decided to be direct.
“As much as we’re paying you for this case, for reasons I can’t get into, your involvement lifts a huge burden off my shoulders—enough that I feel the payment isn’t sufficient.
So, I wanted to add something more to it,” Yang Qing said, his earlier awkwardness vanishing as he laid things out plainly.
Dong Ping’s eyes flickered.
Even without Yang Qing specifying what the “something” was, he already had a good guess based on the mention of his daughter and his current state.
“Speak frankly, Yang Qing.
I’m all ears,” Dong Ping said, his tone steady but carrying an unmistakable weight.
Yang Qing inwardly sighed in relief—Dong Ping’s response meant he wasn’t averse to hearing the suggestion.
“I have a close friend,” Yang Qing began.
“He’s the king and founder of the White Baobab Kingdom.
I don’t know if you’ve heard of it?”
“I have,” Dong Ping said, a helpless smile tugging at his lips.
“A painful number of times—because of my daughter.” Memories flashed through his mind of her constantly pestering him to take her there.
He had kept postponing the trip, clinging to the faint hope that at least one of his daughters would follow in his footsteps and take up the sword.
But, alas, it seemed that battle was already lost.
One wanted to be an alchemist like their mother, and the other, a cook.
Not one of them showed even the slightest interest in the sword—not when he performed his most awe-inspiring techniques in front of them, nor when he tried every bribe he could think of.
It was said daughters shared a deeper bond with their fathers.
So why did it feel like when it came to him, things went completely opposite?
Suppressing those melancholic thoughts, Dong Ping refocused, his expression turning solemn.
Their choices aside, his daughters meant everything to him.
And if by chance he didn’t survive his breakthrough, there were things he needed to put in place for them.
As it seemed, one such opportunity had just presented itself through Yang Qing.
“How close are you?” he asked, his tone serious.
“Very close,” Yang Qing said, his voice steady.
“I consider him a brother and his kingdom a second home—one I’d do everything in my power to protect and help thrive.
A brief moment of silence passed by with neither side talking, before finally, Dong Ping made a move.
He got up and smiled at Yang Qing before his look quickly shifted to a solemn one as he moved to bow his head and cupped his fists.
“I Dong Ping, accept your favor and thank you deeply as a father, from the bottom of my heart,” Dong Ping said, his voice soft, though carried a solemn heaviness within it.
“I look forward to working with you,” Yang Qing replied as he got up, cupping his fist as he bowed in equal respect.
A sign of mutual respect, appreciation, and acknowledgment of one another.
