Chapter Nineteen: The Summer Solstice of the Second Year

Snow and ice had melted, orioles flitted among burgeoning grass, and the plum rains fell in endless veils.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, the solstice of the second summer had arrived.

The region of Yuzhang lay along the lower reaches of the Yangtze River, and now it was the season of the plum rains. Unceasing drizzle and rolling thunder were the constant refrain of these days.

On Pine-Green Lake:

Raindrops lashed the pine needles, deepening the forest’s jade hue until it seemed a pool of green water. The rain battered the lake, fracturing its surface into a mosaic like scattered sand.

Amidst the mist and rain,

A fireball darted through the downpour—a delicate, translucent sphere, as if a hollow orb of glazed flame adorned with intricate patterns.

Within the fireball sat a young Daoist, riding the clouds.

He maintained a shield against the rain, and with his right hand formed a mystical gesture, pointing to a spot as he uttered a single syllable:

“Flood!”

Suddenly, the tempest above the lake seemed to gain a purpose; wind and waves surged where the Daoist pointed, the water rising in towering swells.

A cry pierced the rain—an emerald dragon leapt skyward, delighted by the oncoming storm. With a joyous roar, it arched its body and plunged forward to meet the raging elements.

The green dragon broke through the waves, rain and lake water washing its scales to a brilliant jade. Then, soaring back to its starting point, it fixed its vast turquoise eyes on the Daoist, clearly enchanted by this game.

Yunqi smiled at the sight. “Friend, that’s enough of the ‘Flood’ incantation for today. Let us try something else!”

The green dragon’s interest waned at once. With a plaintive sigh, she consented—albeit reluctantly.

Flicking her tail, the dragon darted through the rain, transforming into a blur of emerald, swift as willow branches whipped by a gale.

Yunqi’s gaze followed her every movement, barely able to track her shadow. His left hand formed a mudra, thumb pressing the little finger, other three straight and pointing skyward; the right hand shaped into a sword-finger, poised but not yet unleashed.

Entering that state of selfless focus, Yunqi found the howling wind and rain receded into silence. The moment he caught the dragon’s form, his right hand thrust out like a sword, pointing straight at her.

“Suppress!”

He uttered the spell.

With the echo of that word, three spectral mountains appeared in the air around the dragon—fleeting as a dream, gone in a blink. The dragon’s motion halted for a heartbeat before she resumed her carefree flight.

After a short rest, Yunqi repeated the incantation.

“Suppress!”

Again, three mountain phantoms emerged, the dragon stalled for another instant—so brief it was barely perceptible, the vision quickly swallowed by the rain.

But Yunqi was well pleased.

Those three peaks were inspired by his contemplation of the Jade Capital, Jade Splendor, and Jade Void mountains. For now, it was merely a rough imitation, but if one day he could truly grasp their essence, it would be extraordinary. If, in the future, he had the leisure to travel the Five Sacred Mountains, observe their forms and capture their spirits, this technique would take on a whole new splendor.

Yunqi was in high spirits, but the green dragon had lost interest. With a sudden dive, she vanished into the lake, leaving only a pair of bright jade eyes peering above the surface.

Clever as she was, she remembered their arrangement: three “Flood” spells were owed in exchange for one “Suppress.” Today Yunqi had uttered “Flood” six times, so she would only grant him two “Suppress” practices—no more.

Besides, whenever he used the “Suppress” incantation, it felt as if an invisible weight pressed her down, the sensation growing more pronounced each time.

Her luminous eyes flickered; she raised two foreclaws, each with four talons. The left paw remained still; on the right, she curled in three claws, leaving only one extended.

Yunqi laughed aloud, understanding her meaning—this little trickster was telling him he’d have to cast “Flood” four times for every “Suppress” from now on.

He descended to the lake’s surface. Where his “Dragon Chariot” touched the water, fiery clouds seared the lake into boiling ripples.

Seated atop the chariot, his eyes level with the dragon’s, Yunqi drew two objects from his robe—each larger than a grown man’s palm, and both had been a burden to carry.

They were lake conches, said to originate from Yunmeng Marsh, later refined by artisans. Though not of high grade, they were intriguing magical artifacts, bartered from Deng Wanchun of Watercolor Street in exchange for some talisman paper.

One conch was milky white, the other a vivid blue.

Yunqi picked up the blue one first, which was encrusted with colorful agates and fitted with a silver mouthpiece—delicate and exquisite.

Putting the blue conch to his lips, he blew forcefully. The conch sounded, its notes rising and falling in a melodious tune: “The Fisher Girl.”

The green dragon’s eyes brightened, longing written plainly within. The right paw she had been holding up now extended two more claws.

Yunqi was amused, and handed her the blue conch with a chuckle.

She darted forward, and before Yunqi could see her move, the conch had vanished into her mouth.

He reached out tentatively and stroked her head; she did not flinch. Her scales were slippery and cold.

He then picked up the milky white conch, lustrous as mutton-fat jade and glowing with a faint phosphorescence.

He pressed the white conch to the dragon’s ear.

At first, she wasn’t sure what he intended. But soon, the light in her eyes made her delight unmistakable.

Yunqi beamed as well. The blue conch was for playing music; this white one was for recording and replaying sound. Now the dragon was hearing a zither piece—“The Fisher Girl”—which Yunqi had secretly recorded during his last performance of “Heavenly Wind over Pine and Snow.” Within the conch were also other ancient melodies from the Tang era, which he had played on a mortal instrument.

The green dragon immediately extended her right paw straight out, displaying all four talons with such force one might think she wanted to grow a fifth.

Yunqi stroked her head again, smiling. “I’ll come practice magic with you when I return. I’m planning to leave the sect for a while, in the next couple of days.”

At his words, the dragon froze, the light in her eyes dimming with disappointment. She dipped her head beneath the water, just out of reach.

Yunqi sighed, half laughing, half helpless. “Friend, you and I are different. For you, even days of play and idleness still see your strength grow steadily. But for me, these past months have brought me to a bottleneck. I know the Fangtang library better than my own courtyard, and as the sages say, ‘Reading ten thousand books is not as good as traveling ten thousand miles.’ So I must go out into the world.”

The young Daoist rested his left elbow on his knee, chin propped on a loose fist, the white conch dangling from his right hand, drifting with the underwater currents.

His words were lost in the rain, but the dragon nearby heard every one:

“In truth, there are many reasons for leaving. I’ve heard that in Western Shu, on Mount Emei, a prodigy has appeared—Li Yingqiong—also wandering the world, wielding a flaming sword, subduing demons wherever she goes. She’s young, a true chivalrous hero, and many say she’s destined to become a sword immortal.

“I’ve always dreamed of becoming a sword immortal. If not, at least I could be a sword hero. I’m only sixteen; while I’m still young, I want to travel with my sword and make a name for myself. If I wait until after twenty, even if I’m famous, people will say Li Yingqiong was more impressive when she was my age—don’t you think?

“And besides, these days everyone says the sword immortals come from Shu. I think that’s unfair.

“Also, Brother Ji Hu has been away from the sect for over a year, and there’s been no word. Sister Ji Xuan grew restless early this spring and set off to find him herself.

“And then, I’ve been away from home for more than a year. I ought to return, tidy my parents’ graves, and sweep the old house.”

He spoke softly, until he felt a cool touch on his hand—the green dragon had surfaced again, nudging him gently with her brow.

Yunqi smiled and stroked her. “You’re far too lazy, you know. With your bloodline, it shouldn’t take you long to refine your laryngeal bone.”

In this world, even spiritual beasts have a laryngeal bone. For humans, it’s called the Twelve-Story Tower; for spirits, it’s called the transverse bone. Once refined, a spirit’s cultivation of vital energy quickens, and if they wish to speak human words, they must refine this bone.

The green dragon did not care for this advice. She bit down on the white conch, spun away, and vanished into the depths.

Yunqi could only laugh and prepare to leave.

Just then, a dragon’s cry sounded from the lakebed. Curious, Yunqi waited a while.

Soon, something floated up and stopped at his feet—a fan-shaped object, slick, cold, and glimmering green. A dragon scale.

“Could it be that dragons shed their scales like snakes? Is this from the green dragon?”

He examined it and found it solid and tough—as it should be, for a dragon’s scale. He guessed that the green dragon, hearing of his departure, had gifted it for his protection. Bowing toward the lake, he rode the clouds away.

———

Thunder rumbled.

Yunqi returned to his quarters; outside, rain still poured and thunder rolled.

He took up the bundle on his desk, tucked the dragon scale inside. The bundle was long ready; he could leave at any time.

Ideally, one would bring a Void Cave Stone or a Void Talisman on a long journey. These magical objects contained their own miniature worlds—some the size of a room, some vast as several acres—making storage effortless and travel unburdened.

Yet such things were rare and precious. Void Cave Stone was even more valuable than gold, said to be remnants of ancient catastrophes—when immortals and gods shattered the void, fragments fell to earth and fused with stone, forming these treasures.

As for Void Talismans, only masters of the Golden Core stage could forge them, at great cost of materials and effort.

The sect’s administrative office did sell Void Talismans, but the price was exorbitant—far beyond Yunqi’s means. His gold reward from the teaching institute last year had long since been spent.

Most of it had gone toward purchasing his cloud chariot and illustrated guides for meditation. Yunqi’s curiosity led him to dabble in everything—magic, swordplay, talismans, alchemy, artifact refinement. Books could be borrowed for free, but to learn talismanry, one needed paper, brushes, and ink; for alchemy, one needed minerals, herbs, and a furnace. The expenses soon drained his purse.

In the end, Yunqi survived by drawing talismans for barter.

Paper and ink were cheap; ores and herbs were dear. As for swordsmanship—his greatest desire—he had never been able to afford a real magic sword, so he made do with wooden branches, practicing the common techniques from books.

This was another reason to leave the sect—the elders all said that hunting monsters and demons was the quickest way to earn money!

Yunqi had long yearned for such adventures.

But there was one more thing—why hadn’t Brother Bingkun established his own sanctuary yet?

He had promised Yunqi that, at the latest, he’d do so this summer, and now the time was near. Yunqi wanted to witness Bingkun’s breakthrough before leaving. If it took more than two days, he would have to set out regardless.

Thunder rolled again.

How bright, how loud!

Wait—something was wrong.

Yunqi leaped up and flung open the door, only to be stunned: across the way, Bingkun’s quarters had been blasted by heavenly thunder, leaving a gaping hole in the roof. Rain poured through, rushing across the floor and out the door.

Remembering that Bingkun was in seclusion, Yunqi’s heart leapt in alarm and he dashed inside.

“I did it! I did it!” A voice, louder than thunder, boomed from within.

Yunqi saw Bingkun sitting there, unharmed, crackling with electric light.

“Thunder commands the rain, water follows the thunder’s lead. When heavenly thunder descends, the Water Mansion opens wide. Today, He Bingkun establishes his Water Sanctuary!”

Bingkun threw back his head and laughed.

Yunqi joined in, relieved to find the thunder had been summoned on purpose.

Only then did he notice—he’d been so anxious, he’d forgotten to shield himself from the water. Now he was soaked to the skin, and so was Bingkun, who had been too focused on his breakthrough to care.

Bingkun pointed at Yunqi, drawing the water from his clothes in an instant. Then, with a sweep, gathered all the water in the house to his fingertip and flung it outside.

Yunqi sealed the hole in the roof with a talisman, stopping the rain.

With the water gone, the room felt oddly dry.

He approached Bingkun, bowing with a smile. “Congratulations, Brother! My heartfelt congratulations!”

Bingkun grabbed him in a bear hug, laughing so loudly it thundered in Yunqi’s ears. Yet as he laughed, Yunqi realized something was wrong—the laugh sounded suspiciously like sobbing.

Looking up, he saw Bingkun weeping openly.

“Eight years! Eight years, Yunqi! It took me eight years to establish my sanctuary! Did you know, I was the first in my cohort to open a residence, the first to earn a reward from the institute. Three months after breathing Qi, I opened the Thunder Residence—can you believe it?”

Yunqi nodded vigorously, “I believe you, I do!”

Bingkun, still overcome, wailed about his struggles—how he’d refined his nasal passage, ingeniously opened the Wind Residence, broken through the Twelve-Story Tower, practiced even in his dreams, becoming a man who snored like thunder.

“But now it’s done!”

After soaking Yunqi’s sleeve with tears, Bingkun discreetly dried it with his water-control art and bounced back, full of energy. “I mastered the Wind, Cloud, and Thunder aspects long ago. Now I’ve established the Water Sanctuary, completing the aspect of Rain. All four celestial elements are aligned! The three upper residences and the Water Sanctuary below—Heaven and Earth united. Water nourishes wood, wood channels the thunder, thunder begets fire, charred wood falls to water, rotting into earth, from which true gold is born. The future is boundless!”

Yunqi clamped a hand over Bingkun’s mouth. “My dear brother, must you shout your Daoist secrets for all to hear?”