Chapter 143: A Hundred Monsters (Part 2)
Could it really be that a Confucian sage had graced the Floodwater Residence with his presence?
And could this Confucian sage be no ordinary academy headmaster or the like?
The green-robed man seated in the place of honor gritted his teeth so hard he nearly cracked them. His posture was stiff, his body taut. This Water God of the Hanshi River, who had tyrannized the northern regions of the Huangting Kingdom for centuries, had to clench his fists and pound them hard against the chair's armrests just to suppress the urge to kneel and beg for mercy.
The Huangting Kingdom was merely one of the vassal states of the Great Sui Empire. The visitor before him, whose appearance seemed so youthful, could not possibly be a native of this land. As for the great Qi Refiners of the Huangting Kingdom, he knew them all by heart—who could be provoked or disciplined, who should be courted and shown goodwill. After centuries of painstaking effort, the green-robed man was utterly confident in his understanding.
Among the seventy-two Confucian academies, every academy's headmaster had to be at least of the Tenth Realm to be qualified to govern the academy.
Grand Qi Refiners of the Upper Five Realms were often elusive, like dragons glimpsed but never fully seen. So comparatively speaking, the Tenth Realm Qi Refiners, who were relatively closer to the secular dynasties, along with academy headmasters, were already worthy of being respectfully called Confucian sages by the secular world. Additionally, there were Buddhist Arhats of the Golden Body and Daoist Earthly Immortals—all honorific titles commonly used both in court and among the common folk.
This select group of top-tier Qi Refiners was like the divine statues in temples: their positions high enough, yet not too far away, so that offering incense and kowtowing could still reach them. Otherwise, those old immortals of the Upper Five Realms, hidden behind clouds and mist, would have no temple for you to find even if you brought a pig's head as an offering.
The green-robed man's eye sockets gradually turned red, bloodshot, and a faint golden luster emerged. He still exerted every effort not to blink, staring fixedly at the sage's statue behind the white-clad youth. In his field of vision, upon the altar, a majestic old man wearing a snow-white robe radiated immense light. Strands and threads of light seemed to contain the ultimate principles of the Way.
Each strand of light, upon closer inspection, was composed of countless fleeting golden characters strung together, each inscribing a rule or ritual of Confucian teachings. This Dharma manifestation of the sage wore a tall cap and a broad sash, with sleeves wide as bird's wings that swayed without wind. A dazzling jade pendant hung at his waist, exceptionally conspicuous, like a miniature moon of the mortal world.
It could not be faked. It was undoubtedly the aura of a sage!
The green-robed man's background was actually quite profound. He had been steeped in many secret insights and hidden knowledge from a young age, and he happened to be someone who could recognize such things. Therefore, seeing this scene only made him more terrified. If it had been an ordinary cultivator of the Middle Five Realms from a common sect, they might have dismissed it as some sort of deceptive illusion meant to swindle.
The tall man in the green robe embroidered with golden coiled dragons finally blinked. Forced to shift his gaze, tears produced by the stinging pain slowly slid out of his eyes, though they soon dissipated. Naturally, he was unwilling to show the slightest sign of retreat or fear before these subordinates and guests. In his long cultivation career, reaching his current position and sitting firmly upon this exalted seat had required not just good innate talent and fortunate opportunities, but also an unyielding will as support. Otherwise, all his splendor would have long been scattered by the surging waters of the Hanshi River.
Someone had once taught him: The learning of sages—the deeper you delve, the more unyielding it becomes. The statue of the sage—the more you look up, the more lofty it appears.
In this world today, the rules established by the Confucian sages became increasingly meticulous and stringent, their rituals and protocols ever more stable. It was no longer like the ancient Shu Kingdom of distant, untestable antiquity. Back in those days, on the map of the ancient Shu Kingdom, there were countless flood dragons, defying the control of heaven and earth. Legend had it that only the ferociously powerful ancient sword immortals enjoyed coming here to sharpen their blades, riding their swords to overturn rivers and seas, taking pride in slaying flood dragons.
Wasn't Qi Jingchun dead? The sage currently controlling the Lizard Pearl Cave Heaven should be Ruan Qiong, who had broken away from the Snow Wind Temple.
Then who exactly was this person?
From the looks of it, he wasn't coming in peace.
No matter what—even if it were the Heavenly King himself arriving on his turf, he absolutely would not offer his neck for slaughter.
The green-robed man forcibly dispelled the gloom in his heart, took a deep breath, and slightly raised his left fist. He tapped the armrest lightly, seemingly casually, but the entire Floodwater Residence trembled as a result. The section of the Hanshi River adjacent to the residence suddenly surged with great waves, layer upon layer, slapping fiercely against both banks.
With that single tap from the green-robed man,
the bodies of everyone in the hall swayed. The longswords at the hips of the two young sword cultivators could not bear the pressure, hissing and struggling like trapped beasts.
Only the white-clad youth remained completely still, and the Dharma manifestation statue behind him stood as steady as a mountain.
The youth raised his head slightly, looking at the green-robed man seated facing south in the distance, his mouth full of sarcasm.
Although the Floodwater Residence was built along the river, there was actually another secret beneath it. A deep and wide water channel had been excavated, linking it closely to the fate of the Hanshi River. It was itself a large-scale formation. Though it might not compare to the mountain-protecting grand formations of some top-tier immortal sects or the city-protecting grand formations of imperial capitals, the deeply accomplished green-robed man, as long as he remained within this domain and did not leave recklessly, could enjoy a mysterious enhancement similar to that of a minor heaven.
Being able to achieve this exception had much to do with the green-robed man's peculiar bloodline, in addition to his fortune.
Generally speaking, ordinary Qi Refiners could only enjoy such privileges upon reaching the Tenth Realm. For instance, among the three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, plus the Military Strategists—these three teachings and one school of power—once they held their home ground, they could command the advantages of heaven, earth, and human. Confucian academies and schools, Buddhist temples, Daoist abbeys, and the ancient battlefield sites of the Military Strategists all made the owner the master of that small heaven. Other cultivators entering such a place were like guests living under someone else's roof, forced to follow local customs and act according to the owner's rules.
Within the main hall, the silence was so profound you could hear a pin drop. The atmosphere was eerie.
This Hanshi River Water God could see the strange phenomenon by the entrance, but everyone else was completely in the dark. They all felt utterly bewildered. How had the white-clad youth, after uttering such arrogant words, left their Water God in a daze? Could it be that this presumptuous, handsome youth was actually born into an immortal clan that had been on good terms with the Floodwater Residence for generations? That's why he dared to be so overbearing?
The effeminate man had already stepped out from behind the table laden with rare delicacies and fine wines, intending to seize the youth, but he now stopped. Without sharp perception, how could he serve under the green-robed man? This water snake spirit, always cunning and sly, had already realized things weren't normal.
The host, the green-robed man, remained unwilling to speak. That earlier tap on the chair, though seemingly imposing and meant to shake the mountain to intimidate the tiger, appeared somewhat bluffing.
Meanwhile, the white-clad youth just stood there with a look that said, "Come on, hit me if you can," which further highlighted the awkward predicament of the Floodwater Residence.
The green-robed man finally spoke with a smile: "A guest has come; may I ask what guidance you have to offer?"
He secretly drew upon part of the river's momentum from the Hanshi River, shaking the aura of the entire residence, attempting to probe the reality of that statue. After all, no matter how clear the evidence, if he didn't personally verify it a little, bowing to an outsider in his own home was something this inherently haughty green-robed man absolutely could not stomach.
If that Dharma manifestation statue showed even the slightest fluctuation, the green-robed man wouldn't hesitate to smash the youth's head himself. To dare play tricks in the Floodwater Residence and try to deceive him—wasn't that just asking for death?
Unfortunately, the statue remained unmoved. This shocked him, and he quickly shed all wishful thinking.
On the path of cultivation, going against the current requires bold and fierce advancement—true. Facing a strong enemy and growing stronger from the trial—also a sound principle. But it does not mean a cultivator must be stubborn and rigid, utterly incapable of change.
The white-clad youth held one hand behind his back, the other loosely clenched into a fist placed at his abdomen. He still wore that insufferably arrogant expression, twitching the corner of his mouth, and sneered: "You've already made your move once. Now it's my turn, isn't it?"
The green-robed man's face darkened.
The water snake spirit simply couldn't tolerate the youth's attitude any longer. He strode forward, his back to his Water God master. Raising one arm, he called a metal mace flying into his hand, and said in a shrill voice: "I can't bear it! Can't bear it! Even if you punish me severely afterwards, my lord, this subordinate must crack this brat's head open and collect his brains to mix into the Golden Jade Liquid in the wine cup. Then the term 'jade nectar' will be complete!"
The green-robed man's face was gloomy. "Qing, you must not be rude to the guest. Return to your seat at once."
The effeminate man holding the metal mace did not obey. Instead, he quickened his pace. "My lord, no more of your merciful heart! An ill-mannered guest has come knocking—let me teach this kid how to be a proper honored guest at our Floodwater Residence!"
After the Hanshi River Water God spoke up to stop him, the water snake spirit understood his master's true intention. If his master truly didn't want him to offend the honored guest, given his outwardly restrained but inwardly violent nature, he would have casually flicked his sleeve to blast the spirit out the door long ago, rather than deliberately uttering those empty pleasantries.
The water snake spirit thought his luck was good tonight—that stupid carp had snatched the primary merit. But if he could earn face for his master in front of everyone, with his master's habit of being generous in front of outsiders, a jar of the Floodwater Residence's specialty Golden Jade Liquid would be his for sure.
This water spirit, who had painstakingly cultivated to take human form, certainly didn't know that his master, who was clear in rewarding and punishing, had sent him to die on purpose this time, solely to test the waters again in a seemingly reasonable manner.
At this, all the guests were filled with curiosity and anticipation. The earlier veiled words, like clouds and mist, had been utterly uninteresting.
Even if the white-clad youth was just an embroidered pillow with no backup plan, witnessing the Water God's general kill someone would still be a good show.
"Earth amassed becomes a mountain; wind and rain arise from it."
The white-clad youth hadn't even bothered to look at the water snake spirit from start to finish. With a grin, he seemed to be reciting classics for a private tutor, very lazy and casual. But after finishing this inexplicable statement, the youth's expression suddenly turned grave. From a cynical, carefree playboy, he transformed into the exact opposite—a pedantic Confucian scholar, radiating a spirit of lofty righteousness.
Finally, the youth raised one foot and stamped it down heavily, roaring: "Waters amassed become an abyss; flood dragons are born from it!"
The Dharma manifestation statue behind the white-clad youth simultaneously lifted a foot high and stomped down fiercely.
At that moment, the green-robed man could not move. Breathing was difficult. His face was full of terror. His throat moved slightly as if to utter words of surrender, but not a single sound could escape.
It was like encountering a natural enemy.
No matter how profound your cultivation or how lofty your realm, once you encountered this, you had zero ability to fight back. You could only wait helplessly for death.
Those four words, "Flood dragons are born," exceptionally solemn and dignified, exploded like spring thunder beside the green-robed man's ear, bursting repeatedly in his ears. Over the lake of his heart, someone pointed directly at his core, stirring up uncontrollable, monstrous waves.
The golden coiled dragon on the green-robed man's chest seemed to have received the finishing touch from an immortal. It turned into a living creature, beginning to spin and move frantically. The green robe was like a green lake, but the wild scrambling of the golden dragon had none of a dragon's leisurely swimming—only madness and agony.
During the half-arm-length golden dragon's frantic collision, its originally bright golden luster gradually dimmed. Moreover, golden threads, like delicate feathers, kept peeling off from the green robe, drifting to the ground and turning to ashes.
The white-clad youth stepped forward with a smile and raised his foot again. "A mere pond crawling insect dares to test me repeatedly? You tested me twice, so I'll stamp your Hanshi River into three sections with two steps. Let's see how you govern sixteen great and small rivers after this."
Just as the youth was about to stomp a second time, the chair beneath the green-robed man shattered with a bang, reduced to powder. This invincible Hanshi River True God staggered to his feet. With one hand, he tightly clutched the golden dragon on his chest, preventing it from continuing to rampage like a headless fly. With the other hand, he raised it high and slapped down with difficulty, his mouth full of blood, his voice hoarse and slurred: "Defying orders, offending an honored guest—death is insufficient punishment!"
With a bang,
the head of the water snake spirit exploded.
The corpse fell to the ground and reverted to its true form—a slender, striped water snake.
The metal mace, an immortal artifact left by an ancient immortal, clattered to the floor, its sound exceptionally crisp and piercing in the now-empty hall.
The white-clad youth's foot was less than half an inch from the ground.
The green-robed man, not bothering to wipe the blood from his mouth, straightened up and prepared to bend in apology.
The white-clad youth, who had already stopped his stomping motion, with gleaming eyes, made a slow motion of withdrawing his foot.
But in an instant, the youth silently recited again: "Flood dragons are born."
He stamped his foot to the ground!
Clean and decisive.
The statue naturally followed suit, stomping once more.
The white-clad youth's foot stepped onto the green brick floor of the Floodwater Residence.
But the statue's foot under him stepped onto the very fate of the Hanshi River.
The green-robed man's five fingers, clutching the golden dragon, had already pierced into the skin of his own chest. Even in excruciating pain, he refused to let go.
This was the dawn of his enlightenment path—both the condensation of his will and perseverance, and the crux of his heart's knot. He could not let go even in death!
The white-clad youth unclenched his fists, shook his sleeves with incomparable grace and ease, and slowly stepped forward, bypassing the pitiful corpse of the water snake spirit. Lifting his head to look toward the host's seat, he raised his foot and stepped onto the metal mace, rolling that immortal weapon back and forth across the floor, laughing: "Water God, quite surprised, aren't you?"
Blood oozed from seven orifices.
The green-robed man, his face miserable, steadied his swaying body. Turning his head, he spat out a mouthful of blood. Then, lowering his head, he glanced at the dark-gold dragon on his chest, which wailed incessantly. Slowly lifting his head, this Water God, who had not personally killed an enemy for almost two centuries, looked dazed and murmured: "This true immortal, can't you spare me? One more step from you, Immortal Master, and I will be no different from dead."
The people in the hall had no idea what was happening. They stood dumbfounded like wooden chickens.
Was this river True God, whom they considered nearly invincible, being toyed with like this?
The white-clad youth began boredly looking around again. His gaze stopped on the Confucian-robed scholar. The latter immediately bowed in greeting, maintaining the bow for a long time, not daring to straighten. Truly a scholarly man, knowing how to read the situation and humble himself.
The youth looked at the fat man whose true form was a river-blocking toad. The latter, without a word, knelt on the ground and kowtowed vigorously, shouting in a loud voice: "Paying respects to the True Immortal!"
Only the burly, armored carp spirit stared straight at the white-clad youth with wide eyes.
Without waiting for the green-robed man to scold his subordinate, the white-clad youth spoke first with a smile: "Kill him."
"I'll count to three. Three... one."
Although the white-clad youth was deliberately playing tricks, clearly intending to take another step,
that was something he had learned from someone.
Unexpectedly, the green-robed man was even more decisive in killing. His top general was slain with a single blow.
In the blink of an eye, the green-robed man stood behind the carp spirit. One hand, having clutched the latter's heart, pierced through his back and emerged from his chest. Slowly withdrawing his blood-drenched arm, he pressed his hand on the head of the burly man, who died with eyes wide open, and lightly pushed the corpse aside. The heart quickly turned into a red pill the size of a goose egg. The green-robed man tossed it into his mouth and swallowed it quickly.
The white-clad youth, true to his word, reluctantly withdrew his foot.
He turned with a smile to the three members of the Lingyun Sect—one old, two young. "Do you recognize me?"
The outer sect elder of the Lingyun Sect scrambled to his feet, cupped his fists, and bowed his head: "Earlier, we had eyes but failed to see. We beg the Immortal Master's forgiveness. We dare to beseech the Immortal Master to visit our Lingyun Sect as a guest..."
Before the white-haired old man could finish, the youth began to give orders again: "Then gouge out those eyeballs."
The next moment, a pair of eyeballs appeared in the green-robed man's hand. The old man cradled his face with both hands; blood continuously seeped through the gaps between his fingers. The old man bit his lip hard, desperately holding back from crying out.
The white-clad youth glanced sideways at the two pale-faced young talents of the Lingyun Sect. "Consider yourselves lucky, you two bastards, that this is the Huangting Kingdom and not on the map of the Great Dali Empire."
The two young cultivators, with bright futures ahead, breathed a slight sigh of relief.
But the youth then said: "But your luck has a downside too. The Lingyun Sect, from the sect leader down to the elders, is almost entirely stubborn fools, determined to serve the Hong family of the Huangting Kingdom. So you might as well all die together."
For the first time, hesitation appeared in the green-robed man's actions.
The white-clad youth clasped his hands behind his back and sneered: "In setting up this trap at the Floodwater Residence, besides testing whether the local prefectural governor was smart enough, you had already come to a conclusion in your heart: the Lingyun Sect is inextricably linked to Emperor Hong of the Huangting Kingdom—they're grasshoppers tied to the same rope. Yet you were unwilling to share the fate of the foolish Lingyun Sect and the Hong family of the Huangting Kingdom, to be crushed under the iron hooves of the Great Dali. So you took this opportunity to sever the old ties of incense and friendship, lest when the Great Dali troops march south and the Hong family falls, the Floodwater Residence be caught in the flames of war."
The youth clicked his tongue: "Such clumsy tricks. Only the Lingyun Sect, those provincial fools, couldn't see through it. 'Having eyes but failing to see'—well said. But still, they have to die."
The green-robed man's face changed color several times, but then he laughed heartily, feeling much more cheerful. With a slap each, he instantly crushed the heads of the three Lingyun Sect members, none of them even having time to display any magical techniques.
The white-clad youth walked slowly forward, heading toward the host's seat. During the walk, he passed near the two young sword cultivators. Without stopping, he turned his head and said with a smile: "One is a rogue cultivator of dubious origin—whether he lives or dies, we'll see later, depending on my mood. The other is the closed-door disciple of the Fulong Temple's sect leader. Your status barely carries some weight. Let me think—the reason you came here should be for that 'Palace' character, right? Surprised that I guessed it? Don't make that face like you've eaten shit, okay? If you keep it up, the Water God might have to crack your head open."
The two sword cultivators sat on pins and needles. They had never witnessed such a heart-stopping scene. At that moment, they truly wished they could die.
The white-clad youth continued forward but suddenly stopped. He looked at the man who gave the impression of being the very embodiment of sycophancy—a "literary master"—and smiled: "In the Green Bamboo Pavilion's Grade C secret files, your real name should be Tang Jiang, right? By this calculation, you've been dormant in the Huangting Kingdom for quite a few years. Hard work, hard work. Really no merit—just a bit of negligible toil. Alright then, tell your Water God about the intelligence report you just received and the task assigned to you. Now you two are truly brothers on the same boat."
The man, now with none of his earlier fawning demeanor, exuded a calm and composed aura. He cupped his fists and said: "Green Bamboo Pavilion Grade C death warrior Tang Jiang pays respects to..."
At the end, this Great Dali Green Bamboo Pavilion death warrior felt some awkwardness, unsure how to address this great figure who had just exposed his identity.
Those who could know secrets of the Green Bamboo Pavilion's caliber within the Great Dali dynasty could be counted on one hand. So Tang Jiang no longer tried to hide. Besides, even if, in the worst case, the white-clad youth was a mortal enemy of Great Dali, his identity as Tang Jiang was already exposed, and death would be certain—only the manner of death, whether swift or painful, remained.
The white-clad youth waved his hand in discouragement: "Forget it. Calling me anything means nothing now."
The youth stared fixedly at the prefectural deputy, whose legs were trembling, without a word.
Deputies were usually from local powerful families. Emperor Hong believed that this could check the power of the centrally appointed provincial governors. The two sides would check and balance each other, preventing any single person from forming a separatist regime—another oddity of the Huangting Kingdom.
After a moment's thought, the white-clad youth pointed at the deputy.
The latter immediately knelt and kowtowed: "I only beg the Great Dali Immortal Master to show mercy. I would be willing to be your ox or horse. If I speak a single false word, may heaven strike me dead!"
The youth, Cui Chan, pointed at the man with his finger: "Get up. You don't have to die. After you leave this Floodwater Residence, go find that elderly provincial governor. Ask him directly: does he want to continue being the governor? Only, instead of the governor of the Huangting Kingdom, it will be the governor of our Great Dali dynasty. If he is sensible and nods in agreement, that's best—you'll still be colleagues. If he doesn't agree, then kill him. Remember, send that old governor's head to the Autumn Reed Inn in this prefectural city. Find the Ziyang Mansion cultivator Liu Jiahui. You don't need to say anything; she will understand everything."
Everyone knew that the Great Dali's southward advance was an inevitable trend.
Only now, they had slightly quickened the pace.
The youth, Cui Chan, looked at the deputy, whose face was covered in tears and snot, and shook his head: "Truly pitiful. Get out of here quickly. Stop being an eyesore."
The man in official robes immediately rose.
The youth suddenly asked: "Are you happy?"
The man was so frightened his face lost all color, not daring to move.
The youth waved his hand, signaling the guy to get lost. Then, not looking at him anymore, he walked straight to the main seat and sat down behind the large table. With a flick of his sleeve, a white jade chair of ancient craftsmanship appeared out of thin air.
The white-clad youth sat on the white jade chair.
The Hanshi River Water God, whose nest had been usurped, stood respectfully below the hall.
The youth, Cui Chan, looked toward the gate and said lazily: "Besides that Lingyun Sect cultivator who betrayed his master, the rest of the irrelevant people are even less than ants. Water God, please kill them all, so they can keep each other company on the Yellow Springs Road."
The white-clad youth picked up a jug of wine, raised it, and shook it: "Oh, by the way—would you like to drink a cup of Golden Jade Liquid before hitting the road?"
Someone in the hall finally started cursing loudly. Some collapsed on the ground in fear. Some began to flee in panic.
The youth, Cui Chan, started tilting his head back and chugging the wine.
One hand held the wine jug.
The other hand was clenched tightly, with a piercing pain surging through his palm.
Each lash had struck his soul.
The youth let the wine spill freely, for he still had that Water Evasion Talisman on him. The wine flowed down his white robe to the ground, like lotus leaves tilting in the rain, splashing askew.
The youth, Cui Chan, lightly tossed the wine jug forward, leaned back against the white jade chair, and tilted his head back. His face was slightly twisted. Inside, he silently recited: "Old man, you stinking scholar, you immortal old bastard! Even if my soul is torn apart, I am still Cui Chan! If you have the guts, just beat me to death! Who was it that said human nature is evil? Wasn't it you?!"
He twisted his neck, as if in conversation with someone, just as he had when first appearing at the threshold: "I didn't kill your enemy—are you disappointed? You thought I would seek justice for you, but instead, I'm even more heinous than they are—are you even more disappointed?"
The white-clad youth, without waiting for the soul to answer, waved his sleeve and completely scattered its remaining remnant.
Ever since he had appeared on the post road at the Wild Man Pass on the Great Dali border, this journey of his could not have been a simple sightseeing trip with a bunch of kids.
Slaughter erupted below the hall.
The youth's pained hand was quietly placed on his abdomen. His uninjured hand covered his mouth as he yawned.
The river may change its course, but a person's nature is hard to change.