Chapter 132: Chapter 132
Shen Xiuhan followed the Wang steward toward the north of the city.
In less than an hour, an estate rose into view.
Vermilion-lacquered gates stood open, a stone lion crouched on either side — fangs bared, claws raised. Above hung a black plaque with gold characters, the calligraphy bold and forceful.
The Wang Estate!
Crossing the threshold into the front courtyard, he found grey brick underfoot and carved, painted galleries flanking either side.
Past a spirit-screen wall, through two more sets of corridors, he reached the main hall — and the sound of conversation and laughter drifted out.
The hall was spacious and bright. Red candles burned high, lighting the scrolls and paintings on every wall.
Rosewood tables and chairs lined both sides, teacups set upon them.
Shen Xiuhan took it in at a glance.
In the two head seats, Wang Zhidao and Zhao Zheng were murmuring to each other.
Xiao Wu, Wang Xuanyang, Luo Tangyin, and Ji Ning had already arrived, each seated behind a table — some sipping tea, some talking in low voices.
Only Lin Sheng of Changshui County had yet to appear.
“Brother Shen, over here.”
Sharp-eyed Xiao Wu spotted him at once and called out, waving.
Shen Xiuhan crossed to the empty table on Xiao Wu’s right and settled cross-legged behind it.
Before long, maidservants threaded through the hall, carrying red-lacquer food boxes and laying dishes before each guest.
Steamed perch, red-braised pork knuckle, soy-marinated beef, osmanthus glutinous lotus root…
And several jugs of fine Bamboo-Leaf Green wine.
Half an incense-stick’s time later, Lin Sheng was led into the hall by a steward.
With everyone assembled —
Wang Zhidao rose, wine-cup in hand, and surveyed the gathering with a smile.
“Each of you fought your way into the top three of the Longxiang Martial Feast. You are the finest young talents of our two counties. This first cup, I, Wang, offer to you — to your flourishing martial fortunes!”
Shen Xiuhan and the others raised their cups and drained them.
Then Zhao Zheng got to his feet.
He simply hoisted a wine-jug, took a great swig straight from the mouth, wiped his lips, and laughed heartily.
“I, Zhao, am a rough man — no patience for fussy ceremony. Eat and drink your fill, all of you, no need to stand on courtesy. Who knows… one day you may be my comrades-in-arms in the Longxiang Army!”
With that, Zhao Zheng tipped the jug back and drank deep.
His unrestrained manner eased the mood in the hall considerably.
…
Three rounds of wine, five courses deep.
The six in the hall toasted and acquainted themselves with one another. Inevitably, talk turned to the wonders of the Dragon Blood Essence Pool.
“Brothers.”
Lin Sheng of Changshui County set down his cup and clasped his fists, asking with humility.
“I come from humble stock. I’ve only ever heard the name — never seen the thing itself. I know nothing of this Dragon Blood Essence Pool. Might one of you enlighten me?”
At that, the four sets of eyes around the table all turned to Wang Xuanyang.
He was a Wang, and the Zhendong General’s son.
The treasure belonged to his family. Its deeper secrets were naturally his to explain.
A self-satisfied smile curved Wang Xuanyang’s lips. He set down his jade chopsticks, swept his gaze across the room, and adopted a knowing air.
“Very well… Are you all familiar with the notion of sealed realms?”
“Sealed realms…”
Xiao Wu’s eyes flickered. He ventured: “Like celestial caverns and blessed lands?”
Wang Xuanyang grunted, paused, and rubbed his nose.
“The Dragon Blood Essence Pool is a spirit-realm generated by the ancient spirit artifact, the Imperial Dragon-Binding Lock.”
“Though it can’t compare to the profundity of a celestial cavern or blessed land, it is still a treasure-ground rarely seen in this world.”
Eager to show off, he ran a gleaming gaze over the group, dropped his voice, and assumed an air of mystery.
“Do any of you know who the ‘Imperial Sovereign’ was?”
The room fell silent, the others trading glances.
Only Luo Tangyin lifted her teacup, took a light sip, and answered evenly.
“The Imperial Sovereign — Ying Jiao — was a man of the ancient State of Zhao. A figure of grand vision and talent who swept across the realm, his merits eclipsing the ages. He was also a martial prodigy who shook history.”
She paused, set down the cup, her voice cool as a spring.
“According to Great Qi’s Records of the Former States: the Imperial Sovereign was astoundingly gifted. At six, his mind and spirit were already clear and penetrating, and he was taken as a true disciple by the ancient sword-immortal Gai Nie, who passed to him a supreme Dao method.”
“After entering the gate, he opened Manifest Strength at ten, entered Hidden Strength at thirteen, broke into Transforming Strength at fifteen, and forged Astral Strength by his capping year. Before forty… he knocked open the gate of divine power and attained the realm of the Innate.”
“He then founded Ancient Wei, swept across the realm, unified all under heaven, ascended to the station of True Lord, and took the honorific ‘Wei-Resplendent Primordial-Martial World-Governing Sovereign Lord’…”
Luo Tangyin recited it all without haste, like reeling off a familiar list.
“Worthy of the Luo clan’s eldest young lady — what a memory!”
Wang Xuanyang laughed and clapped in praise.
Then he reined in his smile and lowered his voice to continue.
“The Imperial Sovereign swept the realm, mastered the four seas, unified the land, and styled himself Sovereign Lord — but the road there was anything but smooth. He passed through countless hardships and perils along the way.”
“For instance…”
He raised his cup, took a sip to wet his throat, and went on.
“When the Wei armies shattered the Six States and pushed the borders to the very shores of the four seas, they struck a hard bone.”
“At that time, the East Sea Dragon Lord — Dongfang Sheng — who ruled the vast ocean, gave a single command, assembling countless dragon kings, demon kings, and a million aquatic tribes to bar the Wei armies at the East Sea’s edge.”
“At the same time, he allied with the three Dragon Lords of the North, West, and South Seas, attempting to drive the Wei armies back to land and deny them any foothold in the waters.”
“But…”
Wang Xuanyang shook his head, his expression a touch regretful.
“Apart from the North Sea Dragon Lord — Dongfang Lu — who was willing to join forces with him, the remaining two, the South and West Sea Dragon Lords, each harbored their own designs and refused to commit their strength.”
“When the Imperial Sovereign and several Wei True Lords waged war upon the seas, the South and West Dragon Lords turned coat in the thick of battle. They led their Dragon Palace forces in retreat to the far seas, abandoned their ancestral foundations — and even changed the surname ‘Dongfang’ to ‘Yin’ to escape Great Wei’s edge.”
Here, a note of lament entered Wang Xuanyang’s voice.
“That battle tore heaven and earth asunder. The North Sea Dragon Lord, Dongfang Lu, was slain to the south of the East Sea — near what is now Tingling Island…”
“That stretch of sea, even after several thousand years, still runs blood-red. Later generations named it the Zhu-Lu Sea — the ‘Sea of Lu’s Slaying.'”
“As for the East Sea Dragon Lord, he was hunted by three True Lords acting in concert. Where he finally fled, no one knows — he vanished without a trace.”
“After that, Crown Prince Ying Changying led a host of Wei generals into fierce battle against the surviving dragon kings and great aquatic demons.”
“Though the dragon remnants had lost their Dragon Lord, they remained ferocious and hard to subdue. The Crown Prince couldn’t manage them — the siege dragged on without end.”
“So the Imperial Sovereign appeared…”
“He plucked a strand of water-grass from the sea, raised his hand — and that strand transformed into a chain vast enough to blot out the sky!”
“The chain emerged in a blaze of ten thousand rays, binding every dragon king of the East Sea — down to their sons and grandsons — immobile, unable to stir.”
“Afterward, the princes and Wei generals entered the Dragon Palace to revel: severing dragon heads, hacking off dragon limbs, cutting away dragon roots — roasting, steaming, gorging on dragon flesh… each devising his own means to humiliate the dragons.”
“That chain, steeped day and night in dragon blood, grew steadily more wondrous, its spiritual nature swelling.”
“Because the Wei general Fan Yuqi presented two dragon maidens for the imperial scions to savor — a great service — the Crown Prince, Ying Changying, bestowed the chain upon him.”
“Fan Yuqi was beside himself with pride. He named the treasure the Imperial Dragon-Binding Lock and wore it at his waist day after day, to flaunt his military merit.”
Wang Xuanyang leaned back slightly against his chair, his tone turning deep and distant.
“Later still… the State of Chu rose and the State of Wei collapsed. When the Chu armies stormed the Wei capital, it seemed the dragon tribes lent secret aid — Fan Yuqi was burned to death, body and Dao extinguished.”
“The surviving Fan descendants fled north in panic, migrating south as a clan. They happened upon the True Lord Overturning-Sea at the moment of his enlightenment, and offered up the Imperial Dragon-Binding Lock in exchange for protection… and they got their wish, joining the Nanxiang Marsh of Dou Weixiang, the True Lord Overturning-Sea’s second disciple.”
“Now, after a thousand years and more — seas turned to mulberry fields, all those True Lords and mighty ones reduced to ash — only this Imperial Dragon-Binding Lock has endured, passing through countless hands…”
A smile tugged at the corner of Wang Xuanyang’s mouth.
“Until at last… it came into my father’s hands.”