“This just happens to coincide with something else.”
Qiu Jing rubbed her brow with her thumb, helplessly saying, “All because of that solar eclipse three days ago.”
“A solar eclipse?” The swordsman was puzzled.
Assassins didn’t believe in superstitions. That day, he was with Blacksmith Wang’s family when they saw the solar eclipse on the road. Wang first had his family hide behind the carriage, then spread out a felt cloth to block the view. Once the eclipse was over, they carried on as usual. Who could be so troubled by a solar eclipse that they’d lose their appetite?
But Su Li knew that scholars took these things seriously, and there were many old professors who, upon seeing the celestial dog take a bite out of the sun or moon, would beat their chests and wail about omens of misfortune.
So what if it takes a bite? Doesn’t the celestial dog spit it out again?
The swordsman didn’t actually believe there was a bored dog in the sky, but hearing Qiu Jing mention the eclipse again made him frown and ask, “Does this celestial phenomenon predict the outbreak of war? Does everyone believe this is the perfect time to wage battle?”
“…”
Qiu Jing twitched her eyelids. None of her subordinates were as dense as Su Li, making her words harder to explain.
Fortunately, he had already climbed down from the rooftop; staying any longer would risk being discovered by the Chunshan Sect.
—The Chunshan Sect’s Leader Ying did have some strength, after all.
At least, Qiu Jing couldn’t beat him. Fengxing Pavilion Master’s martial skills were average; she could defeat those weaker than her, but was no match for those stronger.
Qiu Jing decided to lay things out clearly, explaining step by step to the swordsman, “Think about it. Why would that mysterious force colluding with the Chunshan Sect choose this time to steal the navy’s defense map? They needed time to form a connection with the Chunshan Sect, and the Chunshan Sect needed time to find someone to steal the map. So even before Meng Qi met the Xiliang people, this plot to stir up trouble between the two banks of Jingzhou had already begun. In short, the Chunshan Sect’s framing of Teacher Meng was their own agenda, unrelated to the mysterious force. That force calculated that there would be an eclipse around this time, which is why they chose this date to trade the navy’s defense map in Jingzhou. Everything seemed to be going according to plan…”
As Qiu Jing spoke, she observed Su Li’s expression and noticed that his eyes were starting to glaze over again, prompting her to change her tone, “But they didn’t expect Meng Qi to get involved, and now everyone’s in a situation they can’t back out of.”
The Xiliang people suddenly realized someone was stirring up trouble in Jingzhou.
The plotters suddenly realized Meng Qi’s presence.
And the Chunshan Sect, brought in to play a role, had a moment of idiocy and pulled Meng Qi into the mess.
Now, the Chunshan Sect sensed something was wrong and wanted to back out.
The swordsman finally understood the situation. His face darkened as he said, “This is simple. Capture their sect leader and make him reveal who’s behind this!”
As soon as he spoke, he acted, disappearing into the darkness like a shadow.
“Pavilion Master?” Qiu Jing’s subordinate hurriedly called out, signaling whether they should pursue and stop him.
Qiu Jing shook her head and seriously replied, “Since Meng Qi has muddied the waters, we might as well make them even muddier. The more trouble involved, the more cautious those aiming to do great things will be. They won’t dare act rashly. As long as we drag out the situation, we’ve already won half the battle.”
As she spoke, a trace of worry and frustration crossed Qiu Jing’s face, though her subordinates didn’t take it to heart—after all, such a major incident had occurred.
They couldn’t help but envy a certain National Master, who, despite stumbling into a series of problems, could still maneuver through them smoothly, leaving behind a mess that had everyone on edge.
“Sigh, I wonder where Teacher Meng is now.”
***
The sand rat lay comfortably in the water.
The water was filled with smooth, round pebbles that had been washed clean and polished by the mountain stream.
The river varied in depth, meandering down the mountain slope. In some places, the height difference formed small waterfalls—which, for the sand rat, seemed like huge waterfalls, though they were really only about half a person’s height, with water flowing somewhat swiftly.
The deeper areas resembled small ponds, filled with fish, shrimp, and turtles, bustling with life.
Above the “waterfalls,” the water was shallower, with various-sized rocks stacked together, allowing even a barefoot five-year-old to run across them.
The lush forest shaded the scorching sunlight, while cool breezes blew by intermittently.
All it took was finding a flat stone to sit on, taking off one’s shoes and socks, and dipping one’s feet in the water—it was a sensation even the gods would envy.
Meng Qi, of course, was doing just that, though the stone he found was a bit small.
—Only a fist-sized pebble.
The sand rat avoided the rushing water, lying on a small natural “platform” in the middle of the “waterfall” created by the varying heights. The stream rushed down from above, splashing into the deep pool below, with only a few droplets falling in the middle.
The platform was narrow and shallow, holding little water. Any excess would flow down through the cracks between the rocks.
The sand rat could still stand inside with its head above water!
After swimming contentedly for a while in this perfectly sized “pool,” seemingly tailor-made for the rat, it found a smooth, round pebble to lie on comfortably.
Its short paws could even rest perfectly on a nearby stone!
With its limbs spread out, the alternating cool breeze and water droplets “combed” through its fur.
The chubby rat let out a low, satisfied sound from its throat.
It poked its head out and could even see its intended fish below!
“Smack.”
A fish’s tail slapped the water, creating ripples. The sunlight streaming through the tree canopy into the mountain stream shimmered like shattered gold, playful and intriguing.
Mo Li nearly couldn’t resist his instinct to chase these shiny fragments.
The fish itself was about as thick as an arm, with dense, beautiful black scales resembling gemstones. Its broad, thin fin-like tail was large and intact, and even the whiskers by its gills were long and elegant. To an average person, they’d only admire its lovely scales, while to those worshipping water gods or attributing mystical qualities to aquatic creatures, large ones were often considered intimidating.
The bigger, the more fearsome.
People believed such creatures were the incarnations of dragon kings or ancient beings that had lived long enough to become spirits.
But Mo Li fell short of that. He was just an ordinary large fish, the kind you could catch in any river.
However, when it swam, the other fish would never think the same—its intact fins, perfect scales, and long whiskers made it clear this was no ordinary fish. Any foolish, rash fish that tried to challenge it would end up dazed after hitting it head-on. Mo Li would continue swimming leisurely without losing a single scale. What was the point of fighting?
Mountain stream pools rarely produced large fish. The newcomer wasn’t easy prey, so the other fish had no choice but to avoid it.
On the contrary, the smaller fish, shrimp, and even turtles, seeing that Mo Li had no interest in eating them, inched closer to use his body as a shield.
Being a sanctuary felt strange.
The black-scaled fish gently flicked its tail, shaking off a shrimp trying to cling to its wide tail fin, and nudged away a little turtle hitching a ride on its back. A free ride was fine for a while, but taking advantage forever wasn’t acceptable.
The pool was deep but narrow, with water constantly flowing in and out through the cracks between the stones.
This was the environment Mo Li liked and was familiar with, though his home had been a silent, hollow place, unlike this lively scene.
A single tail flick could send it leaping into the air, riding the stream to the next pool.
If not for Meng Qi still being around, he could have swum all the way downstream, enjoying the entire mountain stream, then transformed back into human form to find another stream to continue the fun.
…But Mo Li restrained itself.
If nothing else, his clothes were still on the shore.
Along with his medicine pouch and golden needles, all piled up in one place.
He had gotten a bit carried away. Indeed, transforming back into his true form made indulgence all too easy.
Mo Li quietly swam back, sinking to the bottom of the pool to ponder.
Half a day earlier, he and Meng Qi had followed the spiritual energy to this place.
A mountain contained many areas rich in spiritual energy. Where spiritual energy converged, natural treasures were more likely to be found, and it was also where dragon veins, transitioning from formless energy to tangible form, were born. This was the collective wisdom from the experiences of the Qimao Mountain and Taijing dragon veins.
To find a dragon vein, one had to start in such places.
Moreover, these locations, brimming with spiritual energy, were often remote, either perilous peaks or winding caves with hidden currents.
In terms of secrecy, they were highly likely to be where Ayanpuka had people cultivating opium poppies.
The southern regions were hot and humid, vastly different from the Central Plains, and opium poppies might not thrive as well here as they did in the deep southern jungles or caves. Thus, the two of them stuck to steep, hard-to-reach paths, seeking out twists and turns, wherever human presence was absent.
Plus, Meng Qi had traveled through this area decades earlier, so he was more than familiar with the terrain by now.
After climbing about three mountain peaks, crawling into a long river valley, and stepping on layers of decaying branches and leaves, they finally arrived at the place where the “spiritual energy was the most abundant.” As Meng Qi put it, Feihe Mountain was surrounded by seven rivers, with countless streams large and small, but the densest spiritual energy was still underground.
If it weren’t for Ayanpuka pulling out that unusual feather, Meng Qi would have almost suspected that the dragon vein of Feihe Mountain was either an underground rat or a fish in an underground river.
The sand rat contentedly rolled over.
Meng Qi had chosen an excellent spot, where he could see the place where their clothes were placed on the shore and also look down at the black fish playing in the water from above.
—As expected, the dragon veins rich in water were more to a doctor’s liking.
Even though Shangyun Mountain had plenty of water, with waterfalls and springs on every peak, the large lakes and rivers still paled in comparison to Feihe Mountain.
As for Qimao Mountain, far away in Pingzhou near the northwestern border, it wasn’t a region rich in water either. The large amounts of wind and snow in winter would melt in spring and summer, and the gorge rivers would shift with the seasons.
Thus, these two dragon veins, which thought they had plenty of water at home, came to Feihe Mountain only to realize that comparing one to the other could drive them mad with envy. Dragon veins meeting dragon veins dare not even speak.
The natural advantages of the southern mountains could not be compared, nor dared to be.
Enough talk—time to get into the water.
Dragon veins could never resist spiritual energy. After traveling so far, even if they weren’t tired, seeing such excellent water and riverbanks was enough to make them feel weary.
This was, after all, the first time Meng Qi had observed Mo Li from the perspective of a sand rat.
The fish was truly big.
Too big to hug—perhaps it could be ridden?
As Meng Qi pondered this, he realized that he hadn’t seen the black fish surface in a while, feeling puzzled. He got up, waded through the water to the edge of the “platform,” and strained to peer down while clinging to the stones. The flowing water rushed over the sand rat’s fur, then trickled through the cracks at his chest.
Trouble—this part of the water was faster, and he struggled to keep his balance.
The sand rat tumbled in the water.
Before it could stand back up, a sudden gust of wind blew from behind.
Meng Qi’s reflexes were incredibly fast. He quickly curled up, rolling across the pebbles to dodge the unknown attack.
“…”
The thing that flashed past seemed to be something furry?
The sand rat jumped up suddenly, splashing through the water, sprinting up the rocks, and leaping outward.
Soon it saw the thing that had missed its attack and fallen due to inertia—a grey, fluffy mass.
Just as the grey fluff was about to fall into the water, it flapped its wings and flew toward the treetops on the shore. Suddenly, a surge of water burst from below, launched high by a fish tail, hitting the grey fluff, sending it spinning three or four times in midair.
Its feathers, soaked with water, couldn’t keep it afloat, and it eventually fell back into the water in a pitiful state along with the water column.
“Doctor!” Meng Qi, now back in human form, used lightfoot techniques to land on the shore, calling out anxiously.
The black fish was searching in the water for the grey fluff’s whereabouts, but no matter how hard it looked, it couldn’t find any trace of it. The grey fluff had vanished like snow melting into the stream.
The fish’s eyes couldn’t see it, and even after turning back into a human, it remained unseen.
The “depth” of the pool was relative—it wasn’t even as deep as a person’s height.
Just as Meng Qi saw the water surge, a figure broke the surface, their long, wet hair clinging to their slender neck and pale, smooth shoulders. The words that had been on the tip of his tongue suddenly got stuck.
“Did you find it…?”
“It disappeared…”
Both of them stopped mid-sentence.
Mo Li paused, silently staring at Meng Qi, who stood on the shore, still too late to put on his clothes.
