Chapter 264: On the Great Path
The moment Chen Ping'an raised his brush to draw the talisman, at the signal from the Golden Old Flood Dragon, the Flood Dragon Ravine had already sprung into action. And it was a case of the lion using its full strength against the rabbit—the hundreds of flood dragon-kind lurking in that ravine surged together with the seawater that had been towering high in the air, all rushing toward Osmanthus Island.
Only the direction where the Golden Old Flood Dragon coiled remained exceptionally calm.
The Boatman Old Man tossed the Dragon-Snatching Basket at his feet. The life or death of a single young flood dragon no longer mattered to the overall situation. The old man glanced at the back of the sword-carrying youth, who seemed enveloped in pure moonlight. One person, one brush, one talisman paper—they formed a seamless whole, like a small world contained within a square foot.
The old man silently praised him. The youth did have a certain grand bearing. Though it had little to do with his realm or cultivation depth, the old boatman admitted to himself that when he was young, he had not possessed such composure.
The old man quickly withdrew his gaze and said softly, "Lady Osmanthus, Osmanthus Island is in imminent danger. For now, I will take responsibility for protecting Chen Ping'an and this talisman. You should go and take command of the ferry. Also, have Ma Zhi and the other stewards immediately explain the stakes to all the guests on the mountain. They must no longer conceal their cultivation. Let all personal grievances, as well as rewards and compensation, be discussed after Osmanthus Island has weathered this tribulation."
"This move by the old flood dragon is very strange. And judging by the means he used to kill that Golden Core swordsman, either he has already broken through to the upper five realms, or someone has secretly set up a formation in the Flood Dragon Ravine, turning this place into something similar to a Confucian academy or school. Perhaps a heretical expert has taken a fancy to this enclave, giving the old flood dragon the confidence to challenge the Confucian sage of Parasol Continent. But whether it's the Jade Flourish Realm or a false sage, once he goes all out, without me here, you alone will have a hard time handling it."
Lady Osmanthus hesitated. She did not rush to Osmanthus Island, and even deliberately slowed her speech. During this time, she weighed the pros and cons. In her long career of cultivation, she knew that when lost in a desperate situation, doing a hundred or a thousand things was not as good as doing the one right thing.
On three sides, seawater crashed like a burst dam toward the ferry at the "bottom of the bowl."
On Osmanthus Island, aside from the ancestral osmanthus tree at the summit, all the other thousand-plus osmanthus trees shed their leaves simultaneously. The leaves did not fall to the ground but flew into the air in an orderly manner, stopping to form a semicircle that enveloped Osmanthus Island. Then the leaves burned to ashes, disappearing without a trace, leaving behind balls of emerald-green spiritual energy. These osmanthus-leaf spirit orbs, each the size of a wild chestnut, extended wisps of dark green threads in all directions, connecting and linking to one another.
The seawater surged, and the ferry tossed like a leaf. The spiritual energy within the osmanthus leaves interconnected, like a large net cast forcefully by a boatman. But this time, the "net-casting" was not for catching fish, but for shielding against the rain.
When the seawater slammed into the great net, waves churned, but not a single drop of water seeped through the net onto Osmanthus Island. The ferry only swayed slightly. And when the ancestral osmanthus tree displayed its wondrous posture of rapid branch and leaf growth, the ground at the summit cracked open, revealing numerous crevices and the twisting roots of the ancient tree. The entire Osmanthus Island then began to slowly rise, as if resisting the impact of the seawater, floating in the wind and forcibly breaking away from the Flood Dragon Ravine.
Many water qiu with horns on their foreheads charged with the fiercest momentum. One by one, they landed on the great net, tearing at the osmanthus leaf formation with their claws, or ramming it with their heads.
These water qiu were considered aristocrats among the flood dragon-kind, relatively close in relation to the true dragons that first ruled the seas and lakes. They were worlds apart from creatures like snakes and carp. However, the addition of the word "water" meant they were still inferior to the single-character "qiu," who were true royalty by blood. Water qiu were the offspring of ancient great qiu mating with sea green snakes, hence they were also called green qiu. They and the white chi, which preferred to hide in towering mountains—one in the deep sea, one on land—often appeared in the writings of literati and were frequent guests in poems of celestial wandering.
Many flood dragon descendants followed behind, ferociously battering against the great net, and they used their water-element divine abilities, each carrying tens of thousands of pounds of seawater as they charged the net together.
Seeing this, the Boatman Old Man was deeply pained. This was Lady Osmanthus, relying on her hard-earned Earth Immortal cultivation, allowing her true form's fundamental essence to drain rapidly, all to buy a chance of survival for everyone.
Ma Zhi, who was on the island, should have already negotiated with the guests, but whether they could unite and overcome the crisis together was uncertain.
At the moment when Chen Ping'an was desperately writing the Lock-Breaking Talisman, the Golden Old Flood Dragon, aside from giving orders for the Flood Dragon Ravine to attack Osmanthus Island with all its might, had no intention of acting himself. He simply pondered for a moment, shook his hundred-zhang golden-scaled body, and slowly swam to the edge of the clear seawater. Finally, from the ripples, an imposing old man in a golden robe emerged. His brows were extremely long, hanging down to his chest. He walked through the air. This old flood dragon in human form ignored Lady Osmanthus, who needed to focus on controlling Osmanthus Island. He was equally indifferent to the life or death of the young flood dragon. He seemed like a mountain climber slowly descending a slope, looking down from a height at the two small boats and three people at the foot of the mountain.
The old flood dragon gazed at the back of the youth, not stopping his pace, and said with a smile, "Little one, you tampered with that Dragon-Snatching Pole and presumptuously wrote a Lock-Breaking Talisman. I took you for a young and ignorant fool and allowed you to secretly hide your two flying swords. But if you push your luck any further..."
The Boatman Old Man maneuvered his small boat, blocking himself behind Chen Ping'an's boat, and looked up at the old beast that had changed temperament. He sneered, "Even if he does push his luck, what of it? Should he just stretch out his neck and beg for a comfortable death? Beg you beasts to swallow him whole and not chew?"
The old flood dragon cast a sidelong glance at the old boatman and laughed. "You have broken the rules. You will all die. But as for how you die, it doesn't really matter. Have you forgotten? After you die, your souls will be slowly unraveled by my underlings like silk from a cocoon, made into dozens of candle lamps, lit, and placed at the deepest part of the Flood Dragon Ravine to endure the cold and darkness. That suffering is far harder to bear than dismemberment by five chariots or a thousand cuts in the mortal execution grounds. Especially for an old Golden Core cultivator like you—the higher your cultivation, the better the quality of the incense candle..."
Having said this, the golden-robed old man sighed and stopped. With one hand behind his back, he used two fingers of the other hand to twist the golden long brow that hung down his chest. He sighed helplessly, "Little one, I, along with this Fan family boatman, have been stalling for you for so long. A mere Lock-Breaking Talisman with a Rain Master decree—can you still not finish it? Are the talisman-drawing disciples of the Daoist sects getting so incompetent these days? Or is it that your skills are lacking and you are not proficient at drawing talismans? Or is the power of this talisman too great, the paper too precious, making your brush... hesitant? No matter. It has been many years since I last saw a Lock-Breaking Talisman. I quite miss it. So I can spare this little time. Young man, take your time. Do not rush."
Lady Osmanthus let out a sorrowful sigh.
The Old Boatman felt much the same.
This was the terror of a sage governing a realm.
Like a Confucian sage presiding over an academy, a Perfected Lord in a Daoist temple, an Arhat in a monastery, or a martial sage commanding a battlefield.
Lady Osmanthus, her face pale, said harshly, "Such brutal violence—are you not afraid that the Confucian sage of Parasol Continent will hold you accountable?!"
The old flood dragon looked at her with pity. "Lady Osmanthus, Lady Osmanthus, you should not have stayed in Old Dragon City, that muddy swamp. You have only been cocooning yourself. After so many years of idleness, with your ears closed to the world outside, how could you understand the great tide of the times? Those who follow it prosper; those who go against it perish. Lady Osmanthus, I have coveted your true form for many years, but considering your noble origins, I can give you one last chance. Surrender to me, and join the grand undertaking of the Flood Dragon Ravine. How about that?"
Lady Osmanthus sneered, "I wonder if you would dare speak such nonsense if a Confucian sage were here! Not even a sage—just a gentleman would be enough to make you tremble, wouldn't it?"
The golden-robed old man shook his head with a smile. "Times have changed, Lady Osmanthus. That is why I say your vision is too narrow. Enough. Our paths diverge. After I devour you, I can smoothly break into the Jade Flourish Realm. And even if the Confucian sage of the Yingyin Chen clan leaves his academy to question me, what can he do to me?"
The old man grinned, his smile icy. "I know you still refuse to give up. You think I was just putting on an act earlier. You are still holding onto the hope that this boy can draw that Lock-Breaking Talisman to frighten all the flood dragon-kind except me. Look, I have even gone along with your wish. Do you still think I am bluffing?"
The old man took a step forward and in an instant appeared a dozen or so zhang away from the side of the boat Chen Ping'an was on.
Chen Ping'an, like an old monk in meditation oblivious to the world, continued to draw the talisman slowly.
Lady Osmanthus and the Boatman Old Man both moved at the same time. She threw a twig of osmanthus onto the prow of the small boat and silently recited, "Take root and cling to the blue sky." The twig instantly grew into a small osmanthus tree, its branches and leaves lush, blooming with clusters of golden osmanthus flowers that released a rich fragrance. The tree grew to over a zhang in height, its shade covering Chen Ping'an.
The old man, meanwhile, rapidly formed hand seals and silently chanted a spell. He stamped his foot heavily on his small boat, pressed his palms together with fingers interlaced, and a dazzling light burst from between his fingers. The old boatman pressed one thumb to his heart and pointed the little finger of his other hand at the Golden Old Flood Dragon. After sealing the spell, a fiery red glow enveloped his body, making him look like a celestial official in a red robe. His forehead was covered in scarlet seal characters, and he roared, "Golden Crow spreads its wings! Fire God boils the sea!"
From the sea surface between the old man's boat and the golden-robed old man, the water bubbled like a hot cauldron, steaming, and then golden crows flew out from within, dragging trails of rolling flames as they rushed toward the old flood dragon.
But the golden-robed old man merely waved his sleeve, pulling two azure water dragons from the sea on either side of him. They clashed with the golden crows. In an instant, dozens of golden crows were devoured by the two water dragons. Though the azure water dragons had a full meal, with flames flickering in their bellies from time to time, they ultimately perished together, their bodies shattering and returning to the sea. But the old man's hand seals were swift, and his attack was fierce and imposing. Compared to the golden-robed old man's effortless ease, the disparity was clear and immense.
The golden-robed old man sneered, "Fire God? These ancient deities are too numerous and mixed. And because of a certain great calamity, the deities who inherited this lineage are often not legitimate. Compared to the Water Department's orthodox gods, who have been passed down in proper order and are deeply favored by the Heavenly Emperor, they are utterly insignificant. A mere Golden Core cultivator like you probably doesn't even know that the phrase 'Fire God boils the sea' is itself a sign of weakness, does he? The first Fire God boasted that he would boil dry the four seas and burn up the five lakes to turn them into clouds in the sky. Later generations of Fire Department gods only dared to say 'boil the sea.' What water? Great rivers are water; tiny streams are water. Boiling water—is it for making tea?"
The old man's magical technique was easily broken by the golden-robed old flood dragon, but he was not discouraged. While the latter chattered on, he switched to another seal. He clenched his fists, slammed them together heavily, and stepped out a unique pattern of celestial paces. The image of the Fire Department celestial official vanished. He now wore a furious expression, looking like a guardian force. Around the old man, thunder orbs crackling with lightning spun and flew.
Finally, the old man separated his fists. One fist pounded his chest down to his abdomen three times in succession, causing the spiritual energy in his three qi stores to surge violently. The other fist opened into a palm, the palm facing the sky. "Jingzhe drums the belly! Thunder Marsh opens! Hear my decree! Act on Heaven's behalf to mete punishment!"
In the cloudless blue sky, a huge vortex of thunder and lightning appeared out of nowhere. A bolt of white lightning materialized, arced through the air several times, and struck down toward the head of the golden-robed old man.
The golden-robed old man vanished from his spot. But the lightning that missed him did not dissipate. It pierced through the seawater, plunged deep into the Flood Dragon Ravine, then rebounded and shot back, illuminating that part of the seabed in a blinding white. Many flood dragon-kind lurking at the bottom, who had not participated in this siege, were alarmed by this lightning technique and instinctively closed their eyes, not daring to look directly at it.
The lightning shot out of the sea and flew toward one location. The golden-robed old man revealed his true form. Faced with this somewhat unnatural lightning, the old flood dragon finally seemed a little irritated. His previously relaxed demeanor was gone. He did not dodge this time. With a slight frown, he brought two fingers together, clipped one of his golden long brows, and quickly drew it across. From his fingertips slid two golden sword lights, about three feet long—the same length as an ordinary sword. One sword met the lightning; the other sword thrust straight up at the vortex overhead, which was connected to some Lesser Thunder Marsh.
Both of the old flood dragon's long-brow swords succeeded. They clashed with the lightning and the vortex, both destroying each other, producing brilliant bursts of light on the sea surface and in the air.
The Boatman Old Man, a rare Golden Core cultivator who had personally experienced the glory of Earth Immortal, displayed a seemingly endless array of techniques. He leaped up, reached out with one arm, and grasped a silver, dazzling spear over one zhang long, thrusting it straight at the golden-robed old flood dragon. "Beast, die!"
The golden-robed old flood dragon curled his lip and vanished again.
The old man's spear thrust did not slow in the slightest; instead, it gained force. At the spear tip, a black ripple appeared. The snow-white spear tip did not slow down at all, and the spear advanced like a bamboo stick piercing water, creating a slight visual distortion.
Then a strange scene appeared: dozens of figures of the golden-robed old flood dragon stood around the old man. And in front of each one, at their foreheads, either a long stretch or a short span away, a spear tip was pointing toward the golden-robed old flood dragon's brow.
Almost all the golden-robed old flood dragons spoke in unison, with a laugh, "Well, well, it took a desperate Earth Immortal-level strike. Hard to manage for a Golden Core cultivator."
One of them reached out and grabbed the spear tip.
Lightning scattered in all directions. The world turned white.
Only one golden-robed figure did not speak. He stood directly behind Chen Ping'an's small boat, just close enough to clearly see Chen Ping'an sitting in the shade of the osmanthus tree. The cyan talisman paper, its exact origins unclear, was filled with righteous spirit. The brush, however, was a fine item—even the old flood dragon coveted it.
Looking at the blank space on the Lock-Breaking Talisman, it was only seventy or eighty percent complete. The boy's arm, fingers, and brush tip had not yet begun to tremble, but his mind was already unstable. It was clear that writing this talisman was still too much for him. The old flood dragon grew even more curious. Although the Lock-Breaking Talisman was of no low grade, the boy had already successfully drawn a talisman on the bamboo pole earlier, which meant the talisman itself was not the problem. It was the cyan talisman paper that made the boy unable to write, like a child carrying a heavy load up a mountain—exhausting his heart's blood, to say the least.
A high-grade Lock-Breaking Talisman inscribed with the Rain Master's decree.
If this were before he had become a sage of his domain, the golden-robed old flood dragon would have been somewhat wary. After all, this was a natural restraint. In the era when the Rain Master, River Earl, and Water Lords were still orthodox gods, flood dragons would show respect to these beings, who were like their superior officers in the yamen.
But now, even if this talisman were even more "unyielding," the golden-robed old flood dragon did not put it in his eyes. He even longed to see a Lock-Breaking Talisman again.
After all, during a certain long, hopeless period of humiliation, though the old flood dragon was young then, what he saw and heard was deeply etched in his bones.
The old flood dragon wanted certain old fellows in the depths of the Flood Dragon Ravine who refused to follow him to see this significant talisman again. Perhaps it would rekindle a spark of courage in those dispirited old creatures.
A complete Flood Dragon Ravine, if united, could not be matched by one or two sect-level immortal mansions.
Dozens of golden-robed old flood dragons simultaneously crushed the tip of the spear.
This was the old boatman's life-bound item. He collapsed onto his small boat, vomiting blood.
Except for the one old flood dragon who silently watched Chen Ping'an draw the talisman, the others, their ferocity fully aroused, laughed heartily. Almost simultaneously, they stomped their feet down heavily. There was no great commotion beneath their feet, but the osmanthus leaf formation protecting Osmanthus Island shook violently, as if a weak city gate were being struck repeatedly by countless battering rams. It was on the verge of collapse. Once the formation broke, those flood dragon-kind would instantly charge into the island. Hand-to-hand combat with these naturally robust beasts?
Not only did ordinary qi cultivators not want that, but even the most lethal swordsmen and the fiercest military body cultivators were unwilling.
Many fifth-realm qi cultivators, whom Ma Zhi had been trying to persuade until his mouth was dry to take out their trump-card treasures, immediately changed expressions in terror. They no longer dared to hoard their treasures and quickly offered up their magical artifacts. For a moment, Osmanthus Island was filled with a riot of colors as treasures flew into the sky, helping Lady Osmanthus and the ancestral osmanthus tree resist the trampling formation of the golden-robed old flood dragon.
But as soon as the qi cultivators on the island exerted their full strength, some of the great beings of the Flood Dragon Ravine, who had been standing by from afar, finally used their water-element divine abilities, like a rain of arrows falling on Osmanthus Island.
Thus, even with the qi cultivators' help, Osmanthus Island was still at a disadvantage.
At this critical moment, a tall, thin old man flew over from the sea outside the Flood Dragon Ravine. However, he was clearly hesitating whether to risk going deeper.
He was the Nascent Soul attendant of the young master of the Jade Gui Sect's Jiang clan.
He ultimately chose to wait and see.
Lady Osmanthus had to go to Osmanthus Island. She had not expected the formation to be so fragile. She could no longer care about Chen Ping'an's talisman. If she kept her true body separated from her soul, the Osmanthus Island formation would not withstand the next impact. By then, even if the talisman were completed, the island would already be breached. The unbridled flood dragon-kind would be like entering an empty city, leading to a total and miserable defeat.
Lady Osmanthus sped away, turning her head to say helplessly to the old man, "Take care of Chen Ping'an!"
The old man smiled bitterly and struggled to his feet.
All he could do was do his best and leave the rest to fate.
All around, the golden-robed old flood dragons slowly approached the two small boats.
Only the one golden-robed old flood dragon who had been standing still all along stared at Chen Ping'an from start to finish, speaking into his mind: "Little one, if you don't finish drawing this talisman and turn the tide soon, all of you will die. Lady Osmanthus will die, the old boatman will die, and you will die. Everyone will die."
"Do what you must, by the Rain Master's decree." The Lock-Breaking Talisman was supposed to have a total of eight characters. In the end, Chen Ping'an only wrote six, and in a highly irregular manner. The talisman was probably already considered invalid.
In fact, after writing the first four characters, though it took a very long time—much longer than his previous talisman drawings—when it came to the character "rain," no matter how Chen Ping'an manipulated his qi, he could not even draw a single horizontal stroke. The cyan talisman paper seemed unwilling to accept this character at all. It was like two armies facing off, and Chen Ping'an was fighting alone against a towering, impregnable city. What could he do?
Human strength always has its limits, and no amount of ambition or perseverance could change that.
After struggling for a long time, Chen Ping'an still could not put down the brush. When his arm trembled for the first time, a mouthful of heart's blood surged to his throat. He forced it back down. Forced by circumstances, he skipped the character "rain" entirely. Then came the character "master," which was another chasm. Chen Ping'an bypassed it again. Finally, he forced himself to write the last two characters, "decree" and "command," barely managing them with the last dregs of his pure true qi.
After exhausting that breath, Chen Ping'an was utterly spent. The arm holding the Little Snow Cone hung limp. He had been running on borrowed strength. Now this failed talisman drawing only made matters worse. His body churned with surging blood and qi. Besides the heart's blood that had already damaged his foundation, countless fine blood beads oozed from within—from his soul, qi stores, bones, sinews, and flesh—slowly trickling and gathering.
The golden-robed old flood dragon was furious for the first time. He cursed angrily, "Useless waste! I waited so long for you, and you couldn't even write the two characters for 'Rain Master'?!"
The old flood dragon stepped forward. "I'll give you one more chance. Start again! Draw another talisman!"
Chen Ping'an stared blankly at the cyan talisman paper. The situation had not gotten worse.
But it had not gotten better either.
It seemed that ever since parting ways with the Daoist nun from the Shen Gao Sect on the Great Path and leaving the Pearl Swirl Cave Heaven, all the good luck Chen Ping'an had been enjoying had taken a downturn. It was as if he had returned to the Pearl Swirl Cave Heaven before it had shattered and fallen.
This time, he was directly trapped in a death ground.
Chen Ping'an raised his head and said, "Do you really want me to finish this Lock-Breaking Talisman so much? Are you plotting something?"
The golden-robed old flood dragon studied the boy carefully, nodded, and smiled. "Naturally. But it's meaningless to say that now. You've wasted so much of my time. Later, your three souls and seven spirits will be made into candle wicks, burning at the bottom of the Flood Dragon Ravine for a hundred years."
Chen Ping'an glanced at his left arm, which held the Little Snow Cone. He took a deep breath, then slowly lifted it. It wasn't just this arm; his entire body was bleeding from his seven orifices and skin, a steady stream. "Before I die, I must write these two characters."
The golden-robed old flood dragon's gaze darkened. He laughed. "A young man with ambition. I will watch closely, and I will even personally protect you. But don't disappoint me again."
Chen Ping'an grinned.
He raised his right arm and wiped his eyes carelessly, clearing the blood blurring his vision. He roughly made out the blank space on the talisman paper where "Rain Master" should be. Then he closed his eyes and silently repeated in his heart, "Do what you must... do what you must..."
In an instant.
Chen Ping'an began to write on the talisman paper.
The golden-robed old flood dragon sneered. "Boy, that is not the character for 'rain.' Are you so badly injured that your mind is muddled?"
In another instant.
The golden-robed old flood dragon's smile vanished completely.
On the talisman paper, there was no longer the usual faint spiritual light of a talisman.
Instead, a divine radiance was rapidly coalescing.
Chen Ping'an maintained that posture—not because he didn't want to move, but because he physically couldn't.
This Lock-Breaking Talisman was no longer a true Lock-Breaking Talisman.
Because it no longer said, "Do what you must, by the Rain Master's decree."
Instead, it said, "Do what you must, by Lu Chen's decree!"
Lu Chen's Decree!
And the golden-robed old flood dragon stood equally motionless, also having the desire but lacking the strength to move.
Chen Ping'an's lips moved slightly, silently feeling the warm divine will on the paper beneath his brush. A sudden inspiration came, and his voice trembled as he whispered, "I have seen it said in books: The sage has said..."
Chen Ping'an coughed without stop before finally getting out the second half of the sentence, "A hidden dragon lies in the abyss."
These eight spoken words seemed in no way inferior to the eight written words on the talisman paper.
A total of sixteen words, falling on the Flood Dragon Ravine, were like a thunderclap from a clear sky, a devastating blow.
"Yes!"
"We obey the decree!"
Voices rose one after another from the depths of the Flood Dragon Ravine, echoing continuously.
Heaven and earth fell silent.
Dozens of golden-robed old flood dragons merged into one form. He bowed his head and clasped his hands in a respectful salute, but his face was twisted in a ferocious grin. "Before accepting the decree, boy, die!"
Above the Flood Dragon Ravine, a golden sword light as thick as a mountain peak descended from the sky.
It shot straight down toward the boy's head.
There were those who could save him but were unwilling—like the Nascent Soul old woman beside the bamboo-clothed young master.
There were those who wanted to save him but, for the sake of the Fan family's grand enterprise, had to shrink back—like Lady Osmanthus.
There were those who were helpless and would gladly exchange their lives for the boy's—like the old boatman so close by.
More were just watching the show. The outcome was decided; why be anxious?
At that moment, Chen Ping'an seemed to have insight into all human hearts and worldly affairs, but his expression was neither sorrowful nor joyful.
A pair of seals slipped from his sleeve—the mountain and water seals—and stopped in the air above his head.
After the golden sword light shattered, only the water seal remained of the pair of seals. The mountain seal was gone.
On the Great Path.
One person walked straight ahead.