On the Path to the Great Dao

Yan Mo and the others spurred their horses downstream along the De River.

This flood dragon rampage was because the flood dragon their little uncle Yan Jingsi had raised was on the verge of shedding its skin. It had escaped from the Black Tortoise Pavilion's dragon-rearing pool, flowing down the river, causing floods that drowned riverside villagers and harvested souls for cultivation practice.

Little uncle Yan Jingsi had been posted to Lei County for ten years and was very fond of this flood dragon. He named it Shang Shan, drawing from the idea that the highest good is like water, hoping the flood dragon would come to understand his heart—supple as water, loving the people like his own children.

However, though the flood dragon Shang Shan had a fine name, it was naughty and mischievous. Flood dragon rampages like this had happened in years past, and little uncle had been furious, berating Shang Shan at length.

It was only after Yan Rong and the others begged and pleaded in every way, even making fools of themselves to amuse little uncle, that he turned from anger to mirth and refrained from further punishment.

Because of this, the flood dragon Shang Shan grew extremely close to Yan Rong and the rest. It often shared its cultivated flood dragon inner core to help them temper their flesh, souls, and bodies, refine their true qi, and even taught them dao arts.

They benefited immensely as a result, and their bond with the flood dragon Shang Shan only deepened.

The flood dragon Shang Shan shed once a year, in truth cultivating the Golden Core Nine Revolutions—one revolution annually. This was its ninth year, and after completing these nine revolutions, its Golden Core would ripen. Then it could harvest a great medicine, plant the core, sprout the Yellow Bud, nurture an Infant Soul, and metamorphose into a true dragon.

"Uncle Shang Shan's Golden Core Nine Revolutions make this rampage critically important. Little uncle turned a blind eye and let it escape the dragon-rearing pool, all in hopes it would perfect its nine-revolution Golden Core and transform into a dragon."

Yan Rong said, worry etched on his face. "In past rampages, Uncle Shang Shan always returned after shedding. This time, though, it hasn't come back after so long. How can we not worry?

If it just runs off and never returns, won't that betray little uncle's years of painstaking care?"

Yan Qing laughed.

"Brother Yan Rong, you're overthinking it.

Uncle Shang Shan used to be a bit unruly, but after all these years together, it long ago started treating us like family.

If it wanted to leave, it could've done so during any rampage these past few years. It stays not just because the Black Tortoise Pavilion offers flood dragon techniques and spirit beast meat to nourish it—it's because of our bond. We're like one family."

Yan Fang and Yan Shuo nodded in agreement, sharing the sentiment.

The group whipped their horses onward, speeding past village after village—mere ruins left in the wake of the great flood. They made no stops, pressing on downstream.

Yan Fang suddenly spoke up.

"That Chen Shi we just met—did he really die ten years ago and only resurrect two years back? Dead that long, and he could still come back to life?"

Yan Qing and Yan Shuo shared the same doubts and turned toward Yan Rong.

Yan Rong was the most outstanding Yan clansman in the Black Tortoise Pavilion, deeply respected by his fellow disciples for his broad knowledge and sound judgment.

"Of course Chen Shi died and came back."

Seated astride his horse, Yan Rong continued.

"The bigwigs in West Capital heard about it and were terrified. Even the Yan family ancestor in the Cabinet sent multiple Thousand-Li Sound Transmission Talismans to little uncle, issuing strict orders time and again to keep a tight watch on Chen Yindu and his grandson Chen Shi—no slacking allowed."

With a sigh, he added.

"Little uncle had a brilliant career ahead in the Yan family, but it was this pair of grandfather and grandson that got him demoted to magistrate in Lei County. He's been stuck here a full ten years.

His prime wasted away."

"Brother Yan Rong, how strong is this Chen Shi, really? As outrageous as the rumors say?"

Yan Fang went on.

"I clashed with him earlier, and before I could even unleash my real techniques, I had him scampering off like a rat with its tail between its legs.

He doesn't look like someone who could kill Mr. Zeng."

The others nodded in unison.

Yan Qing chimed in.

"This punk's still so brazen, trying to threaten us with killing Cousin Li Tianshou's cousin Li. I wanted to thrash him right then and there!"

Yan Rong chuckled.

"You're all cultivators—broaden your minds a bit.

Chen Shi's no threat. The real danger is his grandfather, Chen Yindu.

That's a man West Capital itself fears.

Were Chen Yindu dead, Chen Shi would be an ant—you or I could squash him flat with one step.

But if Chen Yindu lives, even if Chen Shi slapped me twice to my face, I wouldn't lift a finger back."

"Brother Yan Mo, such magnanimity."

Yan Shuo laughed.

"If it were me, I couldn't hold back—I'd kill him outright. Worst case, I'd fall on my sword in apology. A life for a life!"

Chatting and laughing, the group reached Bridge Bay Town. Townsfolk clutching hoes and iron forks were hurrying downstream. They followed along and saw the riverbank at the De River's great bend littered with pale, bloated corpses swollen from the water.

The townsfolk of Bridge Bay Town were digging pits right there, intending to bury the bodies before moonrise.

Yan Mo and the others paled in shock.

"How did so many people die?"

Yan Qing went to ask around, then whispered back.

"These are drowned corpses. Word is a river-crossing dragon dragged them underwater and stashed them here.

I knew at once it was Uncle Shang Shan—he loves hiding things."

Yan Shuo's expression shifted.

"Brother Yan Rong, with so many dead, if this blows up, won't it drag down little uncle and our careers?"

The group's hearts grew heavy.

Over a thousand lives!

If some schemer used it to impeach the Yan family, not even Cabinet Elder Yan could quash it!

The Great Ming still upheld the rule of law!

Yan Rong steadied himself.

"These aren't from this year's flood—they're drownings accumulated over several years, piled up like this.

Uncle Shang Shan isn't that savage.

No need to panic, everyone. Let's find Uncle Shang Shan first!"

They pressed downriver and soon reached the spot where the dragon corpse had been found.

A massive crowd surrounded the dragon corpse—spectators from nearby towns had flocked there, sealing it off completely.

They finally elbowed their way to the front. The sight of the headless flood dragon corpse drained the color from their faces.

When they spotted the talismanic script carved into the dragon horn, their faces turned ashen.

"It's Uncle Shang Shan!"

The group exchanged glances before slipping out of the crowd to whisper.

"Little uncle went to great lengths raising that flood dragon, feeding it the finest meats, spirit pills, and lingzhi. It ate better than we did.

If little uncle learns Uncle Shang Shan died here, his heart will shatter!"

"How did Uncle Shang Shan die?"

Yan Shuo asked.

"It's a flood dragon—its power is no small thing. Even a Nascent Soul expert couldn't easily subdue it. How did someone decapitate it like this?"

Their faces turned solemn. The strength to cleave a dragon's head in one stroke was horrifying!

They asked around discreetly and soon got the story. Faces oddly strained, they mounted up and rode to the stone arch bridge in Bridge Bay Town.

Disregarding the spectacle it would cause, Yan Fang sent his head flying upward. It reached under the bridge, where his mouth clamped the copper sword's hilt and plucked the dragon-slaying sword free.

Most townsfolk were away from the town, down at the bend burying corpses—no one questioned them.

They examined the copper sword. Its style was archaic, from the Qin or Han era—a design few used nowadays.

The blade was honed sharp, its surface etched with peculiar patterns from cinnabar and black dog blood, seeped deep into the copper.

Yan Fang flexed the blade; it was quite soft. Hard to fathom how such a copper sword felled a behemoth like Shang Shan!

"Nearby folk say a talisman master named Chen Shi forged it from cash coins of a hundred families. He hung it from the bridge and slew Uncle Shang Shan!"

Yan Shuo swallowed hard, wetting his parched throat.

"Is this Chen Shi the same one we just saw?"

Yan Rong frowned.

"I've heard of the dragon-slaying sword's forging method—it calls for cash from a hundred families.

Passed through countless hands, those coins absorb the world's yang energy, making them innate evil-warding treasures.

Melt them down into a sword and inscribe with Daoist secret scripts, and it can slay flood dragons.

They say in the Tang era, Daoists acting on imperial or regional governors' orders would hang dragon-slaying swords at river mouths and strategic spots. Back then, Dragon Kings ruled every corner of the Divine Continent.

It kept the Dragon Kings from wandering or causing havoc elsewhere.

But from Tang times to now—who knows how many years? The dragon-slaying sword was long lost!"

He paused.

"It's not Chen Shi who's formidable—it's the dragon-slaying sword.

Anyone versed in the method, any talisman master, could forge one.

That method was likely passed from Chen Yindu to Chen Shi—and it ended up killing Uncle Shang Shan."

Yan Qing blurted out.

"Brother Yan Rong, Chen Shi forged the dragon-slaying sword and killed Uncle Shang Shan—this grudge..."

Yan Rong hesitated.

"This can't be brushed off lightly, of course.

But first, we head back to Lei County, report to little uncle, and let him decide."

Everyone voiced assent, mounted up, and galloped straight for Lei County.

Yan Qing suddenly added.

"We ran into Chen Shi at the graveyard—he was headed for Xue County. Might spot him in Lei County."

Bringing Blackie Pot along, Chen Shi traced the flood damage upstream until he reached Lei County proper.

Lei County hugged the river's edge, with a vast quarry directly behind it. Beyond the quarry loomed the Gangshan Mountains, far grander than the Qianyang range—but with rounded, squat peaks, nothing like Qianyang's dense clusters.

Lakes dotted the spaces between peaks, linked one to the next by the De River threading through.

Gold mining thrived here. The quarry had started when they struck gold, and gold panners wearing broad bamboo hats against the sun were a common sight along the lakes and riverbanks.

Along the way into the city, Chen Shi witnessed two gold panners fighting. One slashed off the other's head with a Ziwu Evil-Slaying Sword, rifled the corpse for panned gold nuggets, and stuffed them in his own pouch.

"Kid, you saw nothin'!"

The victor glared murderously at Chen Shi but saw he was just a boy and held off. He tugged his hat brim low and hurried away head down.

Chen Shi approached the fallen panner, gave him a glance, then swung a sword qi at the ground. It upheaved a mound of earth and stone, burying the body. He pressed on.

Before long, Chen Shi and Blackie Pot entered Lei County.

Unlike Xinduo County—where mountain-good peddlers abounded, hardy villagers who'd crossed ridges to reach town—Lei County teemed with harried gold panners. They wore rough linen jackets greasy-black with shine, unchanged who knew how long.

Their sun-beaten skin gleamed oily, faces black-red and rippling with muscle—built sturdy.

Chen Shi took a seat in a teahouse and pumped the tea server for information.

The tea server grinned.

"Lots of these panners are scholars—some even meritorious xiucai. But pass the xiucai exam and then what? No work means grubbin' in the dirt anyway. Off come the long scholar robes, on go the short jackets, and they pan for gold."

As he poured tea, he continued.

"Don't let their rough looks fool you, guest. They speak poetry on the fly, dash off lengthy policy tracts at the brush's tip. Masters of prose."

Chen Shi nodded faintly.

"In our county, anyone raise dragons? Hunted a spirit beast in the hills—want to sell it for cash."

Raisin' dragons? Only Magistrate Yan's house has a flood dragon.

The tea server replied.

"Their flood dragon's huge and eats like mad—always buyin' spirit beast meat at market.

Evenings, you hear it roar like a cow, but magnified dozens-fold. Chest buzzes with it!"

Chen Shi sipped his tea—poor stuff—and ordered a plate of fruit and jerked meat from the server. He fed the meat to Blackie Pot and ate the fruit.

By the time the fruit was gone, he'd learned the county magistrate's name, cultivation level, address, and household.

Chen Shi paid up and headed out.

The tea server cleared the table and said to the shopkeeper.

"Magistrate Yan's got an enemy comin'.

That young fella? Out for blood, no doubt. Asked real specific—even how many in the family."

"You told him?"

"Told."

The shopkeeper stomped in frustration.

"You fool! You just doomed another soul! That kid goes lookin' for trouble—how's he match for 'em? Dragon chow, more like!"

He dashed out the teahouse but found Chen Shi and Blackie Pot vanished into the crowd. Scowling blackly, he stomped back and shot the tea server several withering glares.

The tea server shrank, mumbling no defense.

Outside the county yamen, Chen Shi scoped the layout, circling it once. His gaze settled on the Ten Thousand Souls Banner floating midair.

Lei County's banner fluttered aloft.

Xinduo County's held no full ten thousand souls—just over eight thousand grievance souls, unrefined.

But Lei County's was complete—far exceeding ten thousand souls!

Its power was tremendous. Chen Shi judged he couldn't withstand even a fraction.

At the Black Tortoise Pavilion gates, he found an expansive garden estate. A pavilion perched atop an artificial hill, shaped like entwined tortoise and snake in flight—hence the name.

This was the Yan clan's disciple-training outpost in Xinduo Province's Lei County. Yan Jingsi handled official duties by day but afterward came here to instruct Yan scions.

Chen Shi watched a spell. Yan disciples came and went sparingly—five in total before and after—but all formidable, four with formed Golden Cores.

Magistrate Yan Jingsi truly excelled at instruction.

Per the tea server, Yan Jingsi had arrived at Nascent Soul Realm. Since then, he'd projected his Nascent Soul repeatedly, manifesting miracles and beaming divine radiance.

No contest—this man was unbeatable.

Chen Shi pondered, then addressed Blackie Pot.

"Tons of experts in the Black Tortoise Pavilion, defenses ironclad. Can't get in.

I'll stick to what I can manage. Takin' on Yan Jingsi? Beyond me.

Yan Jingsi or the Ten Thousand Souls Banner—both deadly.

The gap's too vast. Even at Golden Core second rank, one brush from them and I'm done!"

Chen Shi turned to go when laughter rang out.

"We meet again, wherever life takes us! Brother Chen Shi!"

Chen Shi turned to see Yan Rong, Yan Fang, and the others dismounting with broad grins, approaching.

"Since Brother Chen's graced our Black Tortoise Pavilion, you can't come excited and leave disappointed, right?"

Yan Rong beckoned with a smile.

"Would Brother Chen honor us with a visit inside?"

Chen Shi paused briefly.

This got him in.

He nodded lightly.

"Then I'll impose."

Yan Rong beamed, leading the way.

"Someone, notify the County Lord—Xinduo County's Chen Shi has arrived at the Pavilion!

Brother Chen, you must stay for our Yan family banquet. The County Lord—my little uncle—has long been eager to meet you."

He gave Chen Shi a pointed look.

Chen Shi blinked.

"Yan Jingsi will come?"