Chapter 200: Legend of the Azure Sea, the General Subdues the Tiger
Zhou Chen hurriedly steadied his companion, his face ugly to behold.
The three departed in disarray, their retreating figures hasty and wretched.
Outside the courtyard, Zhao Huaizhen finally dared approach, a layer of cold sweat still clinging to his forehead.
He bowed respectfully. “Immortal Master, this matter…”
“It is of no consequence.”
Song Yan waved a hand. “This is an affair between our two sects. The city lord need not worry.”
“City Lord Zhao, I have troubled you these past days.”
Zhao Huaizhen replied hastily. “Immortal Master is too kind! To be of service to an immortal is this humble one’s fortune.”
Song Yan gave a slight nod and turned to Xiao Ju. “The matters of Cloud Creek City are nearly settled. Pack our things. We depart tomorrow.”
Xiao Ju answered. “Yes.”
The following morning, Song Yan politely declined Zhao Huaizhen’s farewell banquet and left the Prefect’s Manor with Xiao Ju.
“Senior Song, I believe the city lord wished for you to guide his daughter’s cultivation…”
Song Yan raised an eyebrow. “During my seclusion these past days, did he come to speak with you as well?”
Ju Luyi nodded.
Zhao Huaizhen’s daughter appeared to possess a spiritual root, making her an immortal seedling, though her aptitude remained unknown.
He had long wished for Song Yan to offer some guidance on the path of cultivation.
But the girl had not yet formally entered any immortal sect or begun practicing cultivation methods. Any guidance now would be entirely pointless.
Still, Song Yan could well understand Zhao Huaizhen’s sentiment—it was like so many parents in his previous life, forever hoping their children would gain an advantage at the starting line.
Setting aside whether such a starting line or finish line even existed, the child should at least be placed upon the track before such matters were discussed.
The two chatted idly as they made their way toward the ferry.
The morning mist had not yet dissipated when Cloud Burial Ferry was already teeming with voices.
This was the largest ferry in Cloud Creek City. Cargo ships lined the river, their masts rising like a forest, their sails billowing like clouds.
Bare-chested porters carried burlap sacks back and forth along the gangplanks.
“Wow…”
Xiao He’s eyes widened, her serpentine pupils brimming with amazement. “What enormous ships!”
To the east of Cloud Burial Ferry, the morning market steamed with rising warmth.
Those who made their living at the docks—whether boatmen, trackers, brokers, or traveling merchants—typically purchased their meals here.
After all, they had little time to venture into the city for fine delicacies.
Those laborers who relied on hauling goods and luggage for passing travelers and merchants also needed sustenance to replenish their strength.
There were sellers of baked cakes, deep-fried dough sticks, and small fish of unnameable variety skewered on bamboo strips, sizzling over charcoal.
In one unguarded moment, Xiao He had transformed into her human form and now stood before the grilled fish stall, pointing at the fish in the vendor’s hand and turning to look at Song Yan. “I want to eat that!”
A broker in short work clothes sidled over, his eyes appraising the three’s attire. He concluded this must be a jianghu martial artist with his two sisters or handmaidens.
“Are you gentlemen looking to board a ship?”
Before leaving the Prefect’s Manor, Song Yan had changed into coarse hemp garments and donned a bamboo hat. He did indeed resemble a martial artist of the jianghu.
Song Yan inquired. “My good sir, does your vessel carry passengers or cargo?”
“Rest easy, sir. We run an official passenger vessel. We depart at the third quarter of the Chen hour, bound for Lin Prefecture.”
At this ferry, legitimate official passenger ships traveled to only two destinations. One was Danyang Prefecture in Chen Prefecture; the other was Xiapi Prefecture in Lin Prefecture.
For this northbound journey to Dragon Spring Prefecture, Song Yan intended to seek out his grandfather’s ancestral lands in Lin Prefecture. Taking this ship was entirely suitable.
Song Yan fished a few scattered silver coins from a corner of his Cosmos Bag, pretending to draw them from within his robe, and handed them to the broker.
“I will need two quiet cabins. I thank you for your trouble.”
“Right away, sir. Please wait here while I make the arrangements.”
Xiao He, led about by Ju Luyi, bought a Xiao Here and there until her small hands were full of food.
She ate until her mouth glistened with oil.
The meals of the immortal sects were fine, but the food here was truly delicious.
“Do not smack your lips when you eat.”
Song Yan wiped the grease from his face.
Just then, shouts erupted near the dock, seemingly alerting other vessels to make way.
Looking into the distance, a three-decked tower ship was gliding down the river, its hull painted with crimson cloud patterns. Oars extended from portholes on either side, cutting through the water in precise unison to the beat of drums.
“Heavens, could that be a grain transport from the Chu royal family?”
The murmurs of the surrounding crowd reached Song Yan’s ears. He narrowed his eyes. “The Chu royal household?”
At the prow stood a young man in a python-embroidered robe, his identity unknown.
He was likely some noble of the royal court.
“Sir! The capital’s grain transport is docking—the official ship must depart early!” The broker squeezed through the crowd, his forehead slick with sweat, apologizing profusely. “Esteemed guests, please follow me!”
“Very well.”
The Immortal-Seeking Passenger Vessel had lingered at Cloud Burial Ferry for barely half a day before departing ahead of schedule due to the arrival of the capital’s grain transport, cutting through the waves toward Lin Prefecture.
Many passengers gathered on deck to take in the view, and Song Yan was among them.
Since refining the sword spirit, though the seed of the Sword Dao showed no obvious change, he could still feel that his cultivation speed had increased considerably.
His thoughts flowed freely, his state of mind clear as still water.
He conversed idly with Xiao Ju, occasionally addressing her cultivation doubts. In discussing minor points, he himself gained fresh insight through review.
Xiao He gazed at the vast, boundless expanse of the river, lost in a trance. This was, after all, her first time aboard a ship.
“Yan Yan, is this the great sea?”
Song Yan was taken aback and opened his mouth to explain, when unexpectedly an old man nearby burst into hearty laughter.
He seemed to have been amused by Xiao He’s innocent charm.
The old man’s hair and beard were white as snow. He wore a brown short robe with a brass tobacco pouch tucked at his waist. Hearing this, he clapped his hands and laughed. “Little one, the Wu River may be wide, but it is still far from the great sea!”
He pointed eastward. “The true great sea lies toward the Kingdom of Yue, or the eastern shores of the Great Tang in the Central Plains.”
“On the great sea, you would never see such calm. A single wave can rise higher than mountains, stretching beyond the horizon where the eye cannot reach.”
The man accompanying the elder was a young scholar wearing a square cap.
He smiled between his brows and interjected: “Speaking of seas, the waves of all four great seas are tremendous, yet none surpasses the northern sea in wonder.”
“Legend has it that at the uttermost north of this world, amid the vast expanse of ocean, there dwells an ancient great demon. Its body spans untold thousands of li, its spine bearing massive mountain ranges and islands, and it opens its eyes but once every hundred years.”
“It can also take flight across the sky…”
Seeing Xiao He’s eyes grow round as saucers, she grew animated and launched into a spirited monologue.
Song Yan listened quietly as these mortals chatted away with Xiao He.
He knew well that these two had likely never visited the true shores of the Azure Sea, let alone encountered any ancient northern sea demon.
Yet he did not expose their tall tales.
They were strangers meeting by chance, trading grand stories.
What mattered was the exhilarating freedom of boasting without reservation.
There were tales of eastern sea merfolk, immortal mountains beyond the seas—some of which Song Yan had even encountered in records of immortal lore.
“Nonsense!” Old Zhou knocked his pipe against the ground, laughing and scolding. “I say you’ve read too many of those strange tale booklets and lost your wits!”
The two argued back and forth, their faces flushed with passion.
Amid the laughter filling the ship, the passenger vessel drew ever closer to Lin Prefecture.
The journey passed without incident, arriving smoothly at Xiapi Prefecture in Lin Prefecture.
Only Xiao He seemed reluctant to disembark—she wished to continue sailing.
“There will be plenty of opportunities in the future.”
Song Yan coaxed the serpent girl and led Xiao Ju toward the city.
In his youth, he had once visited Lin Prefecture with his grandfather.
That had been his only journey beyond his hometown before entering the immortal sects. His grandfather had told him that their ancestral home lay in Xiapi Prefecture of Lin Prefecture, in a place called Wuzhi Plateau.
He would first find a place to stay in the city and ask about which county Wuzhi Plateau belonged to.
…
Feng’an City.
It belonged to Xiapi Prefecture of Lin Prefecture, situated at a crucial hub of land and water transport, adjacent to a branch of the Grand Canal, with frequent commercial traffic.
The city was renowned for its bamboo crafts, rattan weavings, and distinctive local snacks. The Grand Market of Feng’an attracted merchants and caravans from all directions.
It was for this reason that the city abounded with horse-drawn carriage services, cargo boat operators, and laborers in every trade related to freight transport.
Wu Dou was one such laborer.
He was not tall, his skin dark and weathered, though his build was reasonably sturdy.
Whatever work there was—unloading cargo, hauling goods, guiding travelers, showing the way—he would do it.
In short, he was willing to take on any job that would earn him a modest living steadily in this great city.
After all, for ordinary folk who had lived here for generations, this city was perhaps the entirety of the world they knew.
He heard that several large ships had docked at the ferry. Perhaps he could earn some silver soon.
Wu Dou did not wish to work at the docks, but the jobs there were monopolized by local jianghu gangs. As a solitary man unwilling to join any association, he could only pick up scattered work within the city.
Sure enough, a stream of merchants and travelers soon entered the city, though their cargo and luggage had long since been claimed by others.
A trace of disappointment flickered across Wu Dou’s face.
Almost at the tail of this procession, he spotted two figures.
One appeared to be eighteen or nineteen, wearing a bamboo hat and clad in a black robe of coarse hemp.
He lifted his hat slightly, raising his head to survey his surroundings, revealing a handsome, youthful face.
The other was a young woman, slender and small of frame, her face dotted with faint freckles. She cradled against her chest a long-handled object wrapped in coarse cloth.
It appeared to be a sword.
Swiftly, Wu Dou formed a conjecture about the pair.
The young man was likely a scion of some martial family, out traveling the world to gain experience. The girl must be his sword-bearing attendant.
Wu Dou’s spirits lifted once more.
Such a pairing conveyed much information. Most importantly, a young master of this sort would never lack for silver.
Whether serving as their local guide or running errands to purchase regional specialties, there was ample profit to be had.
Wu Dou hurriedly straightened his faded short jacket and trotted forward, halting three paces from the pair and bowing with a deep cup of his fists.
“Young master, is this your first visit to Feng’an City? This humble one is Wu Dou. I have worked in the city for several years. Whatever you wish to eat, buy, or wherever you wish to travel and sightsee—simply ask me.”
Song Yan lifted his bamboo hat slightly with a fingertip and exchanged a glance with Xiao Ju.
“What a coincidence,” the youth’s voice was clear and bright. “I was just looking for someone familiar with the local area.”
A piece of silver rolled from his sleeve, landing directly in Wu Dou’s palm.
“Good sir, do you know where Wuzhi Plateau is?”
“Wuzhi Plateau?”
Wu Dou caught the silver with a look of pleasant surprise, but his expression turned odd at the question. “Young master, surely you do not mean to visit the old residence of General Xiao?”
“General Xiao?”
This, Song Yan did not know.
Seeing the young man’s puzzled look, Wu Dou hastened to explain. “Oh, please don’t misunderstand, sir. Wuzhi Plateau belongs to Changfeng Village. That place sits right on the border between the Kingdom of Chu and the Kingdom of Ning.”
“It is a remote mountain village, far from the beaten path. Few people venture there on ordinary days.”
“The only reason it draws visitors at all is because General Xiao Ming, the Great General who stabilized our Kingdom of Chu, once led his troops to guard the border in his youth and slew a tiger demon near Changfeng Village.”
So his grandfather’s hometown had once hosted such a figure.
In Wu Dou’s telling, Changfeng Village was quite far from here.
The day was already growing late. He would first find a place to stay and set out again tomorrow.
Wu Dou led the two toward an inn that appeared ancient and elegant in its architecture.
“As it happens, the Guiyun Inn recently acquired a new storyteller. These past two days, he has been recounting the tale of General Xiao Ming subduing the tiger at Wuzhi Plateau in his youth…”
It had to be said—Wu Dou was quite the enterprising sort.
The three threaded through the bustling crowd, and Wu Dou’s mouth never ceased. “This storyteller, they say, came from the Xiao General’s estate in the capital itself.”
The Guiyun Inn was of considerable size, its furnishings classical and refined, its guest rooms clean and well-maintained.
Business was indeed brisk. They had arrived too late—all other rooms were already booked, and only one deluxe suite remained available.
Song Yan therefore took the largest suite.
It mattered little. Both he and Xiao Ju were cultivators. A single night’s stay required no sleep—a night of cultivation would suffice.
No one concerned themselves with such formalities.
Xiao Ju, however, harbored a quiet worry. She feared she might make some noise and disturb Song Yan’s cultivation.
There was little luggage to settle. Song Yan leaned at his ease against the second-floor railing, listening to the storyteller’s narration below.
Xiao Ju stood nearby, listening quietly as well.
The inn’s common hall was packed to capacity. At the far end, a three-foot pine platform had been erected.
“What manner of man was General Xiao? He spent his life on horseback, campaigning on every frontier, his military merits resplendent.”
“Moreover, he trained such a young general as the ‘Wild Goose Marquis,’ Li Yi…”
The storyteller on the platform wore a goatee, his eloquence flowing like a river.
“…You must understand, my dear audience, when he encountered that white-browed, upward-gazing tiger, the general had no retainers at his side, nor did he carry spear or halberd. He had nothing but a plain saber.”
The storyteller delivered the first half of the sentence at a measured pace, then suddenly quickened. “That day, ascending the mountain, the tiger lunged straight at him! He swung his plain saber and thrust it directly into the tiger’s maw! With a crack—”
At the final words, he slowed once more.
The audience below was drawn taut by his words, every one holding his breath, waiting for what came next.
“Crack!”
The storyteller struck his gavel and remarked with leisurely composure: “If you wish to know what happened next, please join us for the next performance.”
“What?”
The crowd erupted in protest. Tea drinkers banged their tables in dissatisfaction.
A whiskered escort slammed a copper coin onto the table. “Old sir, do not keep us in suspense! The blade entered the tiger’s mouth—what happened after?”
The storyteller stroked his goatee and smiled without answering.
The hall descended into clamor.
Song Yan chuckled. “This storyteller truly fears no offense.”
He turned and returned to his room.
Midnight.
Song Yan completed his daily cultivation and summoned the crow Little Xian, nourishing it slowly with sword qi.
In truth, he could already begin practicing sword arts related to the sword spirit, but since Little Xian had only just taken form, she felt a lingering unease.
A casual glance revealed Xiao Ju huddled in a corner, earnestly stitching a long, narrow pouch.
“Xiao Ju, what are you doing?”
“Oh, I am sewing a sword case.”
Xiao Ju pointed at the Cry-of-the-Moon flying sword beside Song Yan. “Senior Song’s flying sword is precious. Carrying it wrapped in coarse cloth is not quite proper.”
Song Yan had long noticed that the Twin Jade Pearl’s nourishing effect applied only to his natal flying sword.
And the Unnamed Sword Box could hold only two flying swords, so he had simply carried the weapon in hand—fitting well enough for his guise as a martial artist.
On the road, Xiao Ju had found this inconvenient and offered to carry it herself.
Her small frame cradling the flying sword made her look like a sword-bearing page.