The bamboo sea of Shu Nan stretched into the azure sky. As dusk approached, the heavens threatened snow, yet none fell. A group of people strolled within, seeming like immortals drifting through the mist.
One man wore a flowing white robe, his face as refined as carved jade. Compared to the usual scholars who came to admire the bamboo peaks, he carried an indescribable aura of the battlefield. Beside him walked an older man exuding scholarly grace, more in line with the image of a traditional scholar. Behind them trailed a graceful woman, whose beauty surpassed all in Shu. Clad in a wide-sleeved white gown, even her shoes bore only faint blue lotus embroidery, as if deliberately echoing the attire of the man ahead. She carried a slender bamboo branch in her hand. Though the two men walked leisurely, their pace was not slow, and she struggled slightly to keep up, her breath growing labored. Yet she dared not suggest a rest. For she knew, whether climbing mountains or following through the smoke of war, if she ever stopped, she would never again catch up with the towering figure before her.
Even though she was Xie Xie, the enchanting beauty who had topped the Beauty Rankings for years, and the mistress of the Spring Paste Thatched Hall, the foremost martial sect in Western Shu.
She couldn’t help but glance at the middle-aged scholar walking beside her beloved, her gaze filled with genuine reverence. They shared the same surname, yet she was but a minor branch of the Xie family tree, while he was the legitimate heir of the prestigious Xie clan—one of the Ten Great Aristocratic Houses of the Central Plains. Tragically, the Xie clan had been the first noble house to fall during the Spring and Autumn Warring Periods. Their eldest grandson, Xie Guanying, hailed as a “prodigy,” had been celebrated for his literary and martial brilliance. He had collaborated with Li Yishan across the river to compile the Rankings of Warriors, Ministers, and Beauties. But with the Xu cavalry’s relentless southern advance, Xie Guanying suddenly vanished. Deprived of its pillar in a time of crisis, the Xie clan collapsed. After Xie Guanying’s disappearance, the subsequent editions of the Martial Rankings were passable, Reluctantly continuing the tradition. However, the Literary Rankings were poorly continued, failing to convince the public, and soon no one dared to take them on. Even Xu Weixiong of the Shangyin Academy eventually gave up on the idea.
As for Xie Xie, she was merely one of many pawns hastily placed on the board during the Xie family’s downfall. When this Xie man, missing for over twenty years, reappeared in Western Shu, serving as a strategist to Chen Zhibao, the prince enfeoffed in the west, Xie Xie felt as if she were in a dream.
The trio ascended step by step. The mountain twisted and turned, cliffs rising like sword blades. At the summit, at the Lock-Dragon Cliff, they gazed afar and the entire bamboo sea lay before them.
As the bamboo sea’s mistress, Xie Xie introduced the legends of Lock-Dragon Cliff, pointing at the cliff inscriptions and explaining with grace. “Ancient tales speak of a dragon ancestor buried in Western Shu. The dragon’s claws, eyes, and pearls were stripped away by immortals with great power. The pearl it held in its mouth was embedded into this cliff. Since then, the dragon qi of Western Shu has only been sufficient to transform into a jiao, never enough to become a true dragon. Throughout history, martial heroes who ruled Western Shu have tried to break open the cliff, only to die suddenly and mysteriously. For centuries, the great figures of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism have loved to inscribe this cliff, each leaving their mark.
“The central ‘Immortal Ascension Platform,’ the most auspicious spot, was written by the Cursive Sage of the Great Feng Dynasty. The seven running script characters at the very top, ‘Cultivation and Peace Here Equal Kunlun,’ were carved with a sword by the Daoist Sage Liu An. Among the smallest inscriptions on the cliff is the phrase ‘Turning the Heart Toward the Buddha,’ etched by an unknown monk. Strangely, the heart character was originally missing a dot. Later, on a snowy night, the Confucian Grandmaster Wang Yuanshan climbed the mountain with a lantern, gazed at the characters, and in a moment of inspiration, drew his sword and added that missing dot. Thus came the tale of ‘Wang Yuanshan Adding the Dot on a Snowy Night, Gaining Enlightenment and Becoming a Sage,’ which elevated him to the rank of Confucian Sage, transcending the mortal world.”
The scholar gazed at the cliff inscriptions, as if staring at the wrinkled face of an old man. Man and mountain, guest and host, stood in mutual silence.
Xie Xie approached the white-robed man and softly asked, “General, do jiaolong truly exist in the world?”
Chen Zhibao, the King of Shu, replied calmly, “If you see it, it exists. If not, it does not.”
Xie Xie hesitated. If anyone else had spoken such words, she would have dismissed them as pretentious nonsense. But this man, known as the “Little Butcher,” who valued every word like gold, would never stoop to such triviality.
The middle-aged scholar, known to the Guanyin Sect as Xie Feiyu, smiled and said, “Actually, not only is there no dragon in Western Shu, but there are none in the southern regions either—Nanzhao to the south of Shu, the Nanzhong region ruled by Prince Yanche Zhao Bing, and the Two Liao regions governed by Prince Zhao Sui of Jiaodong. Yet jiaolong are common everywhere. Zhao Huangchao of Longhu Mountain stole the qi of the fallen Chu dynasty, chose the Difei Mountain, the foremost Daoist blessed land, as the site, and managed to raise a Black Dragon. The Northern Meng, benefiting from the qi brought by the Hongjia migration northward, also successfully nurtured a jiaolong that transformed into a dragon in a certain place in their western capital.”
Xie Feiyu suddenly chuckled. “Prince Zhao Bing of Nanzhong and Nalan Youci have been scheming tirelessly to produce a dragon, making many covert moves. The Taian Court turns a blind eye. Meanwhile, the Northern Liang’s Xu Xiao and Li Yishan, who care little for such intangible qi, are seen by the court as the greatest threat. Xie Xie, can you guess the mystery behind this?”
Xie Xie shook her head.
Xie Feiyu glanced at the white-robed Chen Zhibao beside him, his tone laced with intrigue. “Twenty years ago, the prophecy ‘White Serpent Rises to Rule Qin’ spread widely in the Taian City. Huang Longshi was the originator, and I myself helped spread it. The Astronomical Bureau soon found supporting evidence in dusty old local records. The Black Dragon of Difei Mountain was raised precisely for that prophecy. As for the White Serpent Robe granted by the imperial court to Xu Fengnian, that too was my doing. To be honest, no matter how much we manipulate these prophecies, they are all just imitations. None of us are worthy of polishing the shoes of that ‘Third Huang’!”
At this, Xie Feiyu suddenly turned his gaze northward, narrowed his eyes, and murmured in surprise. His left hand moved swiftly within his sleeve, performing calculations.
At almost the same moment, Chen Zhibao also turned his gaze northward, leaving Xie Xie still puzzled and unaware.
She had heard that after reaching the Heaven’s Will realm among the Four Supreme Realms, one might achieve the mystical Heaven-Person Perception. Regarding the Four Supreme Realms, Xie Xie, being close to such power, had deep insight. The Heaven’s Will realm was a threshold, and the gap between Heaven’s Will and Fingertip realms was second only to the difference between the First and Second Grades. Daoist immortals reached the Fingertip realm upon entering the First Grade, and many gifted observers, like Mei Yingyi of the Guanyin Sect, could even master Fingertip techniques such as the “Fingertip Sword.” Many martial experts at the Diamond Body realm often possessed one or two Fingertip secret techniques as their ultimate weapons. In comparison, the Heaven’s Will realm was far rarer. Reaching Fingertip was like climbing a hundred-foot pole, a rare feat. But once one entered the Heaven’s Will realm and became a terrestrial immortal, it was like a natural progression.
Xie Feiyu continued his calculations within his sleeve, murmuring softly, “Before reaching Heaven’s Will, a martial artist’s internal qi is like a well or a pond—each with its own depth, but ultimately stagnant. Once engaged in life-or-death combat, each drop lost was gone forever. But upon entering Heaven’s Will, it becomes like the Spring God Lake, connected to great rivers and seas, a living source. However, when heavy rain falls from the heavens, causing floods in the rivers, the lake cannot escape the turmoil. Thus, the Heaven’s Will realm has both advantages and drawbacks. Once one resonates with heaven and earth, it is as if one has submitted a travel document to the heavens. The Three Teachings’ sages dare not commit slaughter recklessly because they are bound by the strictest rules. As the saying goes, ‘Heaven’s justice is clear, none dare cross the forbidden threshold.’”
Chen Zhibao asked, “Has the Northern Meng made a move?”
Xie Feiyu nodded. “The disturbance is quite significant.”
Then followed a long silence, occasionally broken by the scholar’s cryptic mutterings.
Xie Xie gradually heard words like “Sword Qi Approaches,” “Fallen Immortal,” “Seven Thunders Become Eight,” “Qi Xuanzhen,” “Dragon Tiger Purple Lotus,” and “Hibernation Jar.”
At one point, she noticed Chen Zhibao’s gaze shifting from west to east, as if watching a meteor streak across the sky.
But when she followed his line of sight, she saw nothing at all.
As dusk deepened, Xie Feiyu showed signs of fatigue, yet soon his entire being seemed to rejuvenate. He extended his left hand and snapped his fingers, declaring decisively, “Great things are about to unfold.”
Looking to the sky, he spread his arms and whispered, “Between heaven and earth, there are layers of sieves—easy to ascend, hard to descend. Fallen immortals are like fish slipping through the net from above, yet also like bait deliberately cast down by heaven.”
“My Xie family retreated to advance. I, Xie Feiyu, have retreated again and again.”
“Chen Zhibao, I helped you absorb the Buddhist qi of the monk Longshu, to compensate for your withdrawal from Northern Liang. Earlier, I aided Zhao Huangchao in raising the dragon at Difei Mountain, enabling you to enter the capital and become Minister of War, in exchange for the accumulated Daoist qi. Once Cao Changqing dies, you will have the power of the Three Teachings united within you…”
Xie Xie’s face paled. She lowered her head, barely daring to breathe.
Chen Zhibao remained expressionless.
Xie Feiyu tucked his hand back into his sleeve, a wry smile on his lips. “The sages said, ‘Heaven and earth endure because they do not seek to live for themselves, thus they live long.’”
Chen Zhibao frowned.
“Who says there is no dragon in Western Shu?”
Xie Feiyu turned to face the so-called dragon-locking cliff. With a flick of his sleeve, a white bowl materialized before him.
Inside the bowl, tiny jiaolong darted like fish.
They leapt from the bowl, like flying fish.
They swam toward the cliff, vanishing into it.
Xie Feiyu laughed heartily. “Qi Xuanzhen shattered the hibernation jar. The battle between dragon and serpent is about to begin. After tonight, the hidden dragon of Nanzhong will still struggle to rise, but Western Shu shall have a true dragon!”
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