Chapter 110: Xuanwu Pavilion
The interior space of Xuanwu Pavilion was quite spacious, covering more than ten mu, with winding pavilions, towers, verandas, and corridors. Rashly venturing inside could even lead one to lose their way.
Yan Qing led the way ahead.
Yan Rong walked shoulder to shoulder with Chen Shi.
Behind them trailed Yan Fang, Yan Shuo, and the others, neatly encircling him in the center.
"These people are all within a zhang of me. If I strike now and kill, could I wipe them all out and escape unscathed?"
Chen Shi pondered to himself.
It would be difficult.
He had only seen Yan Fang's Golden Core before, already at the seventh revolution, but Yan Fang clearly wasn't the strongest disciple of the Yan family in Lei County.
The Yan family cultivated Golden Cores encompassing seven returns, eight transformations, and nine cycles, refining their Golden Cores into great elixirs. Their power far surpassed what ordinary Golden Core experts could rival.
Moreover, Yan Fang's technique was profoundly strange and unique. He could even split off heads to cast spells, growing as many as twelve heads. Chen Shi had never seen or even heard of such an unorthodox method. "My goal on this trip isn't them."
He had originally seen Xuanwu Pavilion's defenses as impregnable, the grounds vast with no chance to scout the layout or terrain, and packed with experts—leaving no hope of success—so he had considered beating a retreat.
Now that Yan Rong had invited him in, he naturally took the chance to survey Xuanwu Pavilion's surroundings.
Encircling the center of Xuanwu Pavilion was a massive pool, like a small lake. That had to be the Dragon-Raising Pool.
Radiating outward from the Dragon-Raising Pool were four courtyards, each serving different purposes: receiving guests, gathering qi, pill refining, and the inner residence.
The centerpiece was Xuanwu Pavilion itself, built atop an artificial mountain beside the Dragon-Raising Pool. The mountain rose tall and rugged, its stones jagged and folded like dragon scales, riddled with holes roughly the girth of a water vat.
Presumably, the flood dragon from the pool would clamber ashore and burrow into those rocky holes, slithering through them for fun.
Cold gusts whistled within the mountain body, perfect for beating the summer heat.
Chen Shi left Blackie Pot at the mountain's base and followed Yan Rong up.
Beneath their feet stretched steps of white Han marble. At each bend stood a stone pillar topped with a stone lion the size of one of Old Lady Wuzhu's field melons, carved with startling realism.
Flower baskets lined the corners too, their scents wafting everywhere.
Maids in white skirts moved about, their necklines dipping low to bare snowy expanses of shoulder.
Chen Shi followed them to Xuanwu Pavilion.
The building rose in several stories on the mountainside facing the water.
The opposite flank featured a waterwheel two or three zhang tall, powered by the current as it rumbled around and around, lifting water from low to high.
This created a waterfall on the mountain—the flow gushing out from beneath the pavilion. Though not grand, it twisted and wound like a flood dragon scaling the cliff face.
"Brother Chen Shi, what do you think of my Yan family's Xuanwu Pavilion?"
Yan Rong asked with a smile.
Chen Shi praised it.
"Corridors and bridges wind on endlessly, holding the visitor rapt."
"But with a pool this size, are there no mosquitoes?"
His remark drew laughs from the group.
Chen Shi was baffled.
"Courtyards with pools this big usually breed mosquitoes aplenty. It's fine by day, but come night, they'll swarm and suck blood everywhere."
Yan Qing chuckled.
"Xiuer, what do you do about mosquitoes?"
The white-clad maid tending flowers nearby glided forward gracefully.
Suddenly, a Divine Shrine and Divine Embryo materialized behind her head.
She unleashed her spell.
Strands of true qi transformed in midair into fine needles that whistled through the air, darting like lightning.
The maid called Xiuer looked soft and delicate, but her needle arts were exquisitely precise. Hair-thin needles danced in patterns dictated by the seals of her hands.
These needles were nearly invisible to the naked eye.
Chen Shi sensed them by their qi: four inches long, as fine as bristles, with an attack range of about a zhang.
Beyond that distance, the true qi would dissipate, unable to hold the needles' form.
Chen Shi took a step forward, as if to reach out and touch one of the airborne needles.
He stepped precisely into her range.
The maid retreated in haste, but a heartbeat too late.
One fine needle pricked a tiny hole in Chen Shi's palm.
He raised his hand and examined the puncture, a drop of fresh blood welling out.
The white-clad maid dropped to her knees at once and kowtowed.
"This slave accidentally injured the guest. I'll fetch spiritual medicine right away!"
"A mere scratch."
"No need for the trouble."
Chen Shi remained unruffled as he wiped away the drop of blood from his palm.
He inquired.
"What spell is this needle technique?"
Yan Rong waved the maid back and smiled.
"The Soul-Shocking Thirteen Needles, a technique from the Returning Spring Art. It's one of my Yan family's collected methods."
"All the maids in Xuanwu Pavilion train in it. It's meant to counter golden body techniques like the Indestructible Vajra Body."
"But who faces so many such foes? So the girls practice it to stab mosquitoes on ordinary days."
"If it comes to blows, I have to kill the maids first."
Chen Shi thought to himself.
These maids, masters of the Soul-Shocking Thirteen Needles, posed too great a threat to him.
Though the maid was merely at the Divine Embryo Realm, her technique hard-countered him.
The gap between Golden Core Realm and Divine Embryo Realm was just one stage, yet the disparity in power was like a Golden Core cultivator facing a Nascent Soul— an uncrossable gulf.
But the maids' unique methods had put Chen Shi on high alert.
What troubled him even more was this: if the Yan family taught arts like the Returning Spring Art and Soul-Shocking Thirteen Needles to their maids, their core inherited techniques had to be far deadlier!
They entered Xuanwu Pavilion.
The ground floor was for receiving guests, furnished with tea sets, an incense burner, and a dainty charcoal brazier.
On one side, a zither girl was playing.
She wore a pale green skirt and light makeup, resembling a refined young lady.
But upon seeing the group, she scrambled to her feet, emerged from behind the zither, took a few mincing steps forward, and knelt.
Chen Shi remarked.
"Brother Yan Rong, Xuanwu Pavilion's rules are imposing."
Yan Rong smiled.
"It's not just Xuanwu Pavilion—the Yan family's rules are stricter than most clans, it's true."
"Manage a house like a state: at home, elders before juniors, superiors above inferiors; in the realm, sovereign over vassals, fathers before sons."
"Brother Chen, this way please."
Chen Shi followed them up to the second floor of Xuanwu Pavilion.
This was County Magistrate Yan Jingsi's private banquet space, split into inner and outer dining areas.
The outer was for lower-status Yan clansmen.
The inner was for Yan Rong and company to dine with Magistrate Yan Jingsi.
Womenfolk had no place ascending Xuanwu Pavilion for meals.
The Yan family did have many rules indeed.
Chen Shi followed the group into an adjacent tea room.
A horizontal scroll hung there inscribed with the four characters: "A Man Has Principles."
The strokes were bold and vigorous, penetrating the paper's back—a slim-gold style script.
"This is my little uncle's handiwork."
"Little uncle has fine calligraphy."
Yan Rong said with a smile.
Chen Shi nodded slightly.
"A Man Has Principles."
"A man must hold to principles, stand tall with backbone, knowing what to do and what to shun."
Yan Rong gave an ambiguous smile.
"Brother Chen seems to have taken it to heart."
"If you like it, I'll ask little uncle to write one for you."
"Please sit. We'll have tea first. Little uncle is busy with duties, so we'll wait a moment."
"No rush."
Chen Shi took his seat and glanced around.
The second-floor tea room was small; with so many seated for tea, it felt crowded.
"Such a prime chance."
Impatience stirred within him. The tea room was ideal for striking, but he didn't know Yan Rong, Yan Qing, and the others' true depths.
He leaned against the window, affording a clear view of the Dragon-Raising Pool below.
"With a flood dragon in that pool, tea here would be pure delight."
Chen Shi said with a laugh.
Yan Qing and Yan Fang each furrowed their brows, a surge of fury rising uncontrollably.
Only Yan Rong kept his composure, dismissing the remark as no provocation.
Chen Shi peered about, puzzled.
"I've heard Xuanwu Pavilion's Dragon-Raising Pool harbors a dragon. Where is it? Call it up to join our tea."
"Is it not at home?"
He smiled faintly.
"Or did it go tea with Li Tianxiu?"
Rage boiled in Yan Qing. He slammed the table and shot up, slamming the Dragon-Slaying Sword into the tea table.
Gritting his teeth, he snarled.
"Chen Shi, the Yan family showed you face! And you dare wield this sword to scheme against my Uncle Shangshan? Today it's not toast—it's penalty brew. No accounting for it, and you won't leave Xuanwu Pavilion alive!"
Yan Rong clamped a hand on his shoulder, his face darkening.
"Sit down!"
Yan Qing swallowed his fury with effort and thudded back into his seat, eyes bulging at Chen Shi without a blink.
Yan Rong smiled faintly.
"Brother Chen forged this sword and slew my Yan family's reared flood dragon. Surely you plan to give the Yan family some account?"
Chen Shi eyed the copper sword before him.
Suddenly, he yanked it free.
Everyone in the tea room jolted in alarm.
Without a word, Divine Shrines blazed behind their heads.
Divine Embryos manifested.
Each spat forth a Golden Core.
In an instant, the tea room swirled with lights of every hue—black, yellow, purple, green—and one ochre core belonging to Yan Rong!
The Golden Cores unleashed crushing pressure.
The tea room creaked!
Talismans concealed in the walls, behind paintings, and curtain corners flared to life, triggered in response!
At the same time, Chen Shi sensed the zither girl downstairs flipping silently to her feet.
She drifted down lightly, positioning herself right beneath his seat.
Her Divine Shrine and Divine Embryo activated, gathering sword qi.
The instant he swung to harm anyone, her sword qi would erupt upward, cleaving him from groin to crown!
Several maids burst in from outside.
Each readied a spell, heads tilted up, footsteps eerily silent as they maneuvered for an upward strike on Chen Shi.
At the stairs stood a woman with a Golden Core.
One foot planted on a step, the other raised.
Her gaze fixed upward, muscles coiled, poised to charge.
From the third floor, he detected other Yan family experts.
Some gripped the eaves, ready to leap.
Others had loosed their Golden Cores, prepared to smash through the floor onto his skull.
Two more converged on the stairs for a rush attack.
Though Chen Shi saw none of the upstairs or downstairs action, ever since refining his Sacred Embryo, his perception of the outside world had sharpened immensely.
He captured every reaction in his mind.
He flicked the sword lightly and chuckled.
"This sword—I heard the De River floods had drowned many, so I spent one and a half taels of silver to forge this Dragon-Slaying Sword."
"Sold it to Bridge Bay Town for ten taels."
"Did this sword kill your Uncle Shangshan?"
Faces soured throughout the tea room.
Chen Shi set the copper sword down.
"Where's the dragon in your Dragon-Raising Pool?"
Yan Qing could endure no more.
He roared.
"Surname Chen, don't spurn the face we give! Were it not for your dead ghost grandpa—"
Chen Shi's face twisted.
His hand shot out, seizing Yan Qing's scalp.
Bang!
He smashed it onto the tea table before them!
Yan Qing was an expert too, tempered since youth in herbal baths to forge coppery tendons and iron bones.
After his Golden Core, with seven returns, eight transformations, nine cycles, his body was tougher than steel, strength prodigious.
Yet when Chen Shi grabbed, he couldn't evade.
As Chen Shi pinned his head down, all his power failed to resist!
Before Chen Shi, his might was like a chick in a hen's grip—immobilized.
His head splintered the tea table.
It cracked against the floor.
Shocked and enraged, he reeled—only for Chen Shi's other fist to hammer his cheek.
Boom!
Xuanwu Pavilion shuddered.
Windows and doors rattled across all three floors.
Faces in the tea room shifted drastically.
They moved to intervene.
Yan Rong flung wide his arms, barring the way.
His voice cracked like a whip.
"No one moves!"
The upstairs Yan experts, downstairs maids, and stairwell fighters—all on the verge—froze at his command.
Bang!
Another violent quake rocked the second floor.
Chen Shi cocked his fist.
The second blow hammered Yan Qing's jaw, fiercer than the first.
"Talk shit about me if you want. My grandpa? You're fucking dead!"
Chen Shi pummeled and cursed amid bangs—one fist after another.
Yan Qing's left cheek ballooned like a hog's head.
Chen Shi hauled him up, slammed the other side to the floor, and kept battering.
Shocked and furious at first, Yan Qing mustered some resistance, attempting to loose his Golden Core.
But Chen Shi's palm sealed the jade pillow acupoint at his skull's base, jamming the bone.
No thought could escape; his Golden Core was nullified.
After a dozen blows, Yan Qing lay dazed, mind empty.
Seeming winded from the punches, Chen Shi released him and straightened.
He snatched a nearby teapot and smashed it down—bang, bang, bang—until the copper dented flat.
He leaped up and stomped Yan Qing viciously several times.
Then spat, growling.
"Mention my grandpa again, and I'll kill you!"
In the tea room, faces flushed green then red by turns.
Yet none stirred.
Chen Shi extended both hands and smoothed his disheveled hair.
Apologetically, he said.
"Fellow Yan brothers, little brother lost his temper. Forgive me, forgive me."
He brimmed with satisfaction inside.
Now he had gauged every cultivation level in the building.
Yan Rong opened his mouth to speak.
A maid's voice called suddenly.
"Master arrives shortly!"
Maids streamed in and up the stairs, bearing delicacies of every sort.
They arrayed them in the waterside main hall.
Once the feast was set, more maids brought hot water and towels—one silver basin and fresh towel per person.
The group washed their hands.
Footsteps sounded from above, steady and sure.
Chen Shi heard them clearly—yet sensed no one ascending.
Alarm spiked within him.
Whoever climbed treated the air itself—no presence in his perception!
Yan Jingsi's cultivation was terrifyingly profound!
Yan Rong smiled.
"Brother Chen, please."
Chen Shi composed himself and exited the tea room with the others.
Yan Rong waved to a nearby maid, signaling her to haul away the unconscious Yan Qing and tidy the mess.
Chen Shi and the group reached the main hall.
There sat a gentleman on a luohan couch at one side.
Thirty or forty years old, lean-faced with a faint mustache, puffy silkworm-like bags under his eyes, hair in a Daoist bun, clad in Daoist robes.
He looked less a magistrate than a scholarly Daoist.
He sat plain as day—yet Chen Shi still couldn't sense him.
Yan Fang sidled up to the man and whispered.
"Little uncle, Uncle Shangshan is unharmed."
The Daoist was Yan Jingsi, magistrate of Lei County.
He raised a hand.
"Shangshan slew too freely, coveting dragon transformation. Such a tribulation was fated."
"I've divined it with Purple Tenuity arts. Escape was impossible."
"Heaven merely borrowed little brother Chen's hand to bring its doom."
"Little brother, be seated."
"Magistrate, please."
The group took their seats, each attended by a maid.
Chen Shi was placed beside Yan Jingsi.
He had just gripped his chopsticks when he recalled the toast.
He tucked them under his palm, rose, and offered.
"Junior Chen Shi toasts the magistrate one cup."
Yan Jingsi lifted his cup and drained it.
Chen Shi felt the maid at his back like needles.
He threw back his head and drained his too.
The banquet passed in high spirits between host and guests, wine urged repeatedly.
No word of Shangshan's death.
Chen Shi drank himself roaring drunk, staggered down the stairs, and reached the mountain foot—nearly tumbling.
Blackie Pot hurried to his side.
Swaying every which way, Chen Shi waved off the Yan clansmen.
"I-I can walk! No propping me! I'll tell my grandpa—the Yan family are all stand-up guys! He'll take good care of you! Head back! Back!"
The group escorted him from Xuanwu Pavilion.
Chen Shi wobbled down the street and unknowingly reached the teahouse.
His lips cracked and mouth thirsted.
He climbed to drink tea.
The server poured and tended him, marveling inwardly.
"He walked out alive? Not here for revenge?"
Chen Shi drew a hundred-tael note and slipped it beneath the teapot.
He murmured.
"Shopkeep, fetch me a dozen pregnant pigs, dogs, cows, and sheep—due any day."