At the slightest disagreement, [they] immediately run.
“The wind has picked up.”
Meng Qi stood at the window, gazing into the distance.
The trees swayed from side to side, and Meng Qi added a gentle palm wind, causing the branches to spread even further apart.
The sky gradually darkened, and thick clouds rolled, flowing swiftly toward the horizon.
Mo Li was inside packing their belongings, placing Ayanpuka’s letters beside them. Meng Qi had already read these, so they no longer needed to be carried around.
The previous night, they had set a fire. Concerned that the scrolls and letters might be destroyed, Mo Li had specially taken a curtain from beside the bed and wrapped them in it, forming a large bundle using coarse cloth.
The curtain was no ordinary object; at first glance, it seemed to be embroidered with auspicious patterns in silver thread, but in fact, it was Sanskrit arranged in palindromic circles.
The script was tiny, almost impossible for the average person to make out, let alone recognize the words.
Mo Li recognized it as Sanskrit but had no idea what it meant.
Remembering that the scriptures of the Xiliang Mojie Temple were mostly written in Sanskrit, and that Ayanpuka had Sanskrit tattoos resembling the veins of leaves behind his ears, they had casually brought it along that day.
At this moment, Mo Li handed it to Meng Qi, who read it carefully and chuckled, “This is something that could be very important but is essentially worthless.”
“What is it?”
“A martial arts classic from Mojie Temple, the ‘Heavenly Demon Mara Form’.”
After saying this, Meng Qi casually rubbed his fingers together, and the light, thin curtain instantly tore into fragments.
A gust of strong wind blew into the room, scattering the pieces, some falling into the dirt, others drifting into the river, never to be pieced together again.
Mo Li closed half the window and held up the last scroll, asking, “What’s the story behind this ‘Tiger Descending the Mountain’ painting?”
Without the legend of the night when a fierce tiger appeared at the house of Yang Daozhi, the painting saint, Ayanpuka wouldn’t have suspected that the original form of the capital’s dragon vein was a tiger.
“These stories, some true, some false, and after so much time has passed, it’s hard to say for sure. But Yang Daozhi, this personโ” Meng Qi pondered, speculating uncertainly, “He liked to joke around. He was also skilled at stone carving and once searched the mountains for excellent stone to create a complete set of the twelve zodiac animals, each about the size of a fist. His technique was unique. For instance, the lines of the figures in his paintings, particularly the sleeves, were exceptionally detailed, in stark contrast to the expressive style of his predecessors. His stone carvings were also exquisitely lifelike, without a trace of stiffness. Among them, the rabbit had one ear raised and the other drooping, half-squatting as if eating grass. Yang Daozhi placed this rabbit sculpture behind the screen on his desk, and when the temple lanterns were lit at night, I was startled at first, thinking a rabbit had sneaked into the house to eat.”
The mountain rat, familiar with the mannerisms of rabbits from its time in the mountains, was nearly fooled. This shows how remarkable Yang Daozhi’s craftsmanship was.
The lantern light passed through the paper screen, enlarging the shadow.
“I remember that the tiger was in a sleeping pose,” Meng Qi continued to recall.
Given that there was a stone carving, as long as it was placed cleverly enough, a thief could easily mistake it for a sleeping tiger.
Thieves, already anxious, would be too panicked to distinguish whether it was real or not, let alone examine a painting on the wall. By the time the constables arrived, and the Yang family had been alerted, with candles illuminating the house as bright as day, the tiger would have disappeared. Naturally, people would think of the ‘Tiger Descending the Mountain’ painting.
Although the posture of the stone sculpture differed from that of the tiger in the painting, both were created by the same person, so there would always be subtle similarities. The terrified thief, brought back and unable to find the tiger, might see the painting and, hearing the story, convince himself that the tiger in the painting was real.
People love to believe in strange and fantastic tales, and as the story spread, it became more exaggerated.
Yang Daozhi himself wouldn’t have believed it. Upon careful investigation, he would have realized the truth lay in the stone sculpture and gradually figured out the trick. Soon after, Yang family’s servants frequently saw different versions of the tiger, likely because Yang Daozhi found it amusing and decided to “play” with new ideas.
As the rumors became increasingly bizarre, more people came to investigate, prompting Yang Daozhi to put away the stone carvings. After all, letting people boast about his paintings worked just as well.
All of this Meng Qi had never seen with his own eyes; instead, he pieced together the fragments and gave a very plausible explanation.
Mo Li, on the other hand, listened intently and muttered, “So that’s how it was. But in the records… they never mentioned that Yang Daozhi was also skilled in stone carving.”
“Mastery of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting are the skills of a gentleman. Excellence in painting could win praise, but stone carving was the work of artisans. Literati and poets could carve their own seals, but stone carving…”
Meng Qi trailed off, and Mo Li understood. Yang Daozhi didn’t want others to know, and his friends and old acquaintances wouldn’t spread the word either. After all, it was a matter of “reputation.”
At that moment, the wind outside grew stronger, and thunder faintly rumbled in the distance.
The ever-present spiritual energy of Feihe Mountain was actively responding to the imminent storm.
Mo Li sensed the change in the energy, and he couldn’t help but walk to the window to look at the trees being whipped into chaos by the wind.
“Weโll set off when the rain stops.”
Meng Qi didn’t say where they were going, but Mo Li knew.
The Xiliang people had fled, and clearing out their remnants would take some effort. The urgent task was the opium that had made its way into Prince Ning’s backyard. If it were any other place, it wouldnโt matter as much, but under Prince Ning’s command was a talented man. If he discovered the opiumโs value and used it to rally the remnants of the Xiliang forces, plotting and scheming, things would become very troublesome.
Even so, Meng Qi was still worried they might not make it in time. Feihe Mountain was quite a distance from Yangzhou’s Luning County, where Prince Ning resided.
The spiritual energy thickened, making it hard to breathe for people, but the dragon vein felt invigorated.
Mo Liโs expression shifted as he stared southeast for a long time without moving.
The wind was coming from that direction, and so were the rain clouds.
โIt just so happened that was the direction they needed to go to reach Yangzhou’s Luning County.
The storm arrived, and massive waves of spiritual energy rose from the streams, valleys, and forests, transforming Feihe Mountain into a “lake” in the dragon vein’s eyes. Between the sky and the earth, there was water and spiritual energy everywhere.
A sudden thought came to Mo Li’s mind, startling him.
However, his body reacted faster than his thoughts.
With a long dragon’s roar, a pitch-black dragon soared into the sky amidst the rain. Its slender, graceful form from a distance seemed like part of the mountain’s silhouette. The dense curtain of rain obscured the sight of those fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of a scale or two. When they rubbed their eyes, trying to make out what they had just seen, a blinding flash of lightning illuminated the forest.
In the reeds, a skinny boy, who had climbed to the rooftop to quietly memorize the water channels, shuddered in fear, his face turning pale.
He clumsily tried to climb down.
Trees getting struck by lightning wasnโt uncommon, and it was too dangerous to stay on the roof.
Halfway down, the boy paused, turning his head in confusion.
Did something just pass by?
The afterimage of the lightning remained in his vision, seeming to form a massive creature looming overhead.
“Ah!”
The boy’s panicked scream was drowned out by the rumbling thunder.
He fell into the mud. The ground was soft, with plenty of puddles, so he didnโt get hurt.
Without bothering to wipe the mud from his face, he scrambled to his feet, wanting to see what that monster was.
The forest was pitch-black, and the distant houses were blurred, with nothing seemingly crushed.
Instinctively, he looked up again just as another bolt of lightning flashed, revealing the faint shadow of the “monster.”
It was enormous, covering nearly half the sky, its scales reflecting the lightning. Thunder seemed to coil around its body, descending like a catastrophic force ready to bring about the end of the world.
The boy was so terrified that he fell back into the muddy pit.
โWhat are you doing?โ The swordsman impatiently pushed open the window.
This house originally belonged to Ayanpuka, and it was located at the highest point.
Su Li had heard the commotion on the roof earlier but hadn’t paid much attention. To him, the boy was no different from a monkey, no matter how much he climbed; he wouldnโt be a threat or cause any trouble.
If it werenโt for the boyโs shouting and falling outside, Su Li wouldnโt have bothered with him at all.
โTh-The skyโฆโ
The boy stammered, pointing shakily.
Su Li frowned and glanced outside.
Apart from the heavy rain and lightning, there was nothing to see.
โโฆA dragon, I think there was a dragon.โ The boy trembled, barely able to form the words.
Su Li lost interest and slammed the window shut.
Assassins didnโt believe in ghosts or gods, and dragons were out of the question.
The boy was left sitting dumbfounded in the rain, constantly running his hands through his hair. He sniffled and sneezed.
The door creaked open, and Su Li strode out, grabbing the boy and dragging him toward the cellar.
The thunder was too intense, and the swordsman figured the boy was just frightened, so he decided to find him a safe place to stay.
At first, the boy struggled, but then he blankly looked up at the sky, touched his own face, and finally, with teeth chattering, glanced at the swordsman. His eyes rolled back, and he fainted.
Su Li: “…”
Itโs not like he even got drenchedโhow could he pass out from fright?
One of the advantages of mastering internal energy was that it kept you warm in winter, cool in summer, and protected you from the elements.
Su Li thought to himself that it was just as well the boy had faintedโless hassle that way. He continued walking without any expression.
Suddenly, he thought he heard something and instinctively raised his head in alertness.
But whether it was a black dragon or a golden dragon, they had long disappeared. The dense reeds and trees filled the marsh, and if not for the raging storm, one wouldnโt even be able to see the sky. Even now, only glimpses of the sky were visible through the bending trees and heavy rain.
After watching for a moment and seeing nothing unusual, Su Li turned his head, puzzled, and glanced around. He suddenly noticed that one of the houseโs windows was open.
Rain, carried by the wind, poured relentlessly into the room.
Su Li leaped over in just a few strides, and sure enough, the room was empty.
Medicine pouches and bundles were neatly packed and placed on a low table behind a wardrobe.
That spot was conveniently sheltered from the wind. Beside the low table was an unsealed letter, but a fallen brush had rolled onto the floor, staining a pool of ink.
Su Li reached out and picked up the letter. Upon pulling out the paper, he saw it was written by Mo Li.
The format was proper, and the handwriting was well-formed and powerful. Mo Li had the best handwriting Su Li had ever seen, so he recognized it at a glance.
The letter reminded him once again to follow the prescription for the local villagers. They might return in some time, but for now, he and Meng Qi would continue pursuing the opium trade. They were leaving today. The letter also reminded Su Li to keep an eye on the unusually intelligent mountain sparrowโa detail that, aside from the last sentence, seemed rather ordinary.
What puzzled Su Li, however, was why Mo Li hadnโt taken their belongings with them.
He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately couldn’t resist opening the medicine pouch to take a look. There was no medicine left (it had been used up in the marsh), only a set of silver needles, a landscape painting signed by “Master Jinshui,” and a “Tiger Descending the Mountain” painting by Yang Daozhi.
There was a coin pouch with barely any money in it. Surprisingly, there was also a rattle-drum, its handle inserted into a bamboo cup. On the drum was a drawing of a creature that resembled neither a squirrel nor a rat, with its plump cheeks puffed up. It was rather amusing.
Su Li silently put down the rattle-drum, puzzled by Doctor Mo’s peculiar tastes.
He didnโt examine the rest of the bundle closely, respecting it as personal property. However, he did notice that the two sets of clothing on top were the ones Mo Li and Meng Qi had worn that day. They were hastily folded, as if they had been stuffed into the bag in a hurry.
Strangeโthose two couldnโt have left without clothes, could they?
The swordsman shook his head abruptly, glancing at the rain outside, thinking that such a downpour would be tough even with internal energy.
The layers of trees in the marsh provided some shelter, but walking outside would make one feel like a lone bird lost in the stormโforced to use lightness skill, flying erratically.
Still, since they were coming back, traveling light without unnecessary belongings might make sense.
Su Li decided not to think about it further. He returned the items to their places and closed the door and windows.
—
Feihe Mountain was shrouded in spiritual energy, and a dragon soared through the air, riding the wind.
In the fishing villageโs mountain god temple, a few villagers had been trapped inside by the heavy rain.
Suddenly, Daoist Hu had run out, leaving them confused. Today, he had suggested coming to visit the mountain god temple.
An elderly man sat alone, and when he saw the clouds rolling in the sky and faintly perceived something unusual, he stood up abruptly.
โA dragonโฆโ
The old man was shocked, then doubted his own eyes.
He stood up too quickly and felt dizzy, causing those around him to rush to support him.
โThird Uncle, whatโs wrong?โ
โNothing, nothingโฆ The mountain god will protect us; nothing bad will happen,โ the old man muttered instinctively.
As he spoke, he was about to smile when he suddenly remembered Daoist Hu asking about past events yesterday. Trembling, he clutched his clothes tightly.
The wind blew rain onto his wrinkled face, and the old man, now sheltered from the wind, quietly shed a tear. He said nothing in the end.
Thunder roared, and the rain poured down as a golden dragon chased a black dragon over several valleys and streams.
As they passed the deepest ravine, the massive figure of a green dragon emerged from the gorge. Raindrops passed through its translucent body, and its scales glimmered with brilliance.
The black dragon did not stop to greet it but did briefly glance back, stretching and spiraling once before flying off again.
The green dragon stood still, simply watching them fade into the distance.
It was unclear how much time passed before the rain gradually lessened. With a long cry accompanied by thunder, the green dragon sank back into the gorge.
It did not reappear again.
Authorโs note:
There was a small detail in the last chapter that you guys didnโt notice. According to the beliefs of the fishing village, only matters within the mountain are under the mountain godโs jurisdiction. Other things, like having children or getting rich, are outside its realm. The old manโs son, daughter-in-law, and grandson left and never returned. The old man says he believes the mountain god will protect them, but in realityโฆ Would the mountain god protect people who have left the mountain? Of course not!
The old man is actually heartbroken; he knows his children and grandchildren are probably dead.
But Su Li didnโt realize this, and Mo Li and Meng Qi didnโt think of it either. The protagonists are powerful, but they still miss certain details. After all, theyโre not real gods and canโt read minds, especially when the old manโs sorrow was hidden in his expressions, which they didnโt see.
—
Sand Rat dazed: Doctorโฆ stripping on-site.
Sand Rat looking at the sky: I want to go too.
The national advisor hurriedly packed clothes and then ran off with ใใ.
