Chapter Seventy-Two: Reunion with the Green Dragon, First Encounter with the Thunder Device

At the break of dawn, the sky was still dim and hazy. Without anyone needing to call them, the drunken crowd roused themselves and gathered at the edge of the cliff to meditate. The dog, its belly round and full, sprawled out and refused to move.

As the sun rose, everyone fed on the purple aura of the morning glow, enveloped in a rare tranquility. When the sun grew brighter and the purple mist faded, they all rose and departed, each to their own journey.

Cheng Xinzhan went to settle the bill, only to be told it had already been paid. As for who had done it, there were too many guests last night, and even the steward of the kitchen yard had forgotten. He made no further inquiry and proceeded to the Square Pond Library, borrowing three books: "Thunder-Tally Lexicon," "Dragon-Script Proper Translation," and "Compilation of Dragon-Script and Thunder-Tally Terms."

The first detailed the translation between Thunder-Tally and Cloud-Clerical scripts; the second, between Dragon-Script and Cloud-Clerical; the third explored the changes in meaning when Dragon-Script and Thunder-Tally were used together. When he had previously received two volumes from the learned teacher, he’d noticed they contained mostly Thunder-Tally script, some Dragon-Script, and a scant few Cloud-Clerical characters. He hadn’t studied Thunder-Tally or Dragon-Script before, so now he needed to learn them as he read.

With the translated books in hand, he rode his cloud to the outskirts of the pine forest and descended. Before he drew near, he heard the sound of a conch. He smiled knowingly—it was the ancient tune "Flowing Water," which he had once taught Green Chi. The pure and elegant melody, now played on the conch, lacked the clarity of the zither but possessed a lingering, unending charm.

It seemed the young Chi had made significant progress recently—perhaps it was a matter of innate talent as well. He recalled what Jiangnan Jing had told him about the missing Green Chi, the master of "Wind Through Pine and Snow," and the Thunder Immortal’s close friend.

At that moment, however, the white dog lay flat on the ground, motionless, refusing to go further. Cheng Xinzhan surmised that although Green Chi was still a juvenile, she possessed the dignity of a dragon, and the mortal dog dared not approach. He instructed the dog to wait there and continued on alone.

Drawing closer, he saw the lake and immediately spotted Green Chi at its center, her head held high, only the tip of her mouth above the water, like a small lotus leaf. In her maw was a conch, and she was playing it.

Hearing footsteps approach, Green Chi opened her mouth, the conch fell in and quickly sank beneath the surface.

“It’s me,” he called out.

A great splash broke the water’s surface as Green Chi emerged, joy shining in her eyes. Yet Cheng Xinzhan’s keen attention noticed immediately a patch of blood on her back where a scale was missing.

He instantly understood—this was not an old scale shed in molting, but a new one she had torn from herself that day. He had placed it over his chest to shield himself from the blow dealt by Peach Capital, saving his life. In the Killing Pit, his clothes and skin had been burned, the scale fused to his flesh. When new skin grew, it enveloped the marrow-end of the scale, making it seem as if it had grown from his chest. He had yet to remove it.

But Cheng Xinzhan only noted it silently, without mention.

“You can play 'Flowing Water' now—have you learned 'High Mountain'?” he asked.

Green Chi shook her head, a flush of embarrassment in her eyes. She had worked hard to master "Flowing Water," yet this man, upon his return, praised neither her speed nor her skill, but only asked about "High Mountain."

With a flick of her tail, she sent a wave toward Cheng Xinzhan.

He easily dodged it and teased, “Why haven’t you refined your transverse bone yet?”

Green Chi grew more annoyed and threatened to dive back into the lake.

Cheng Xinzhan smiled, no longer provoking her. “Lend me your zither—I wish to play 'Fishergirl.' I think I’ve gained new insight.”

Instantly mollified, Green Chi happily approached and spat out "Wind Through Pine and Snow."

Cradling the ancient zither, Cheng Xinzhan’s heart felt transformed. Before, he only knew it as a treasure; now he understood how the Thunder Immortal had chosen a pine tree amid wind and snow to craft it for his friend, a relic passed down from Tang times.

He played "Fishergirl," his mind drifting to the notion that perhaps this Tang melody was composed by the missing Green Chi. Perhaps she had met a fishergirl one day, admired her at first sight, wrote this tune, and played it on "Wind Through Pine and Snow." The fishergirl gave birth to the juvenile Chi before passing away, leaving the long-lived Green Chi to mourn her, playing "Fishergirl" over and over. Maybe this was why the young Chi was so obsessed with the melody?

Eyes closed, Cheng Xinzhan dreamed up this tale of love between human and dragon, and the music at his fingertips grew ever more plaintive and sorrowful.

Across from him, Green Chi seemed frozen, staring at Cheng Xinzhan with tears streaming down her face, lost in memories and confusion—

Why did this man’s music sound increasingly like her father’s? She slowly sank deeper, letting the water cover her eyes so her tears would go unnoticed.

Cheng Xinzhan, lost in the music with closed eyes, did not see the young Chi’s actions.

When the piece ended, he returned the zither to her and invited her to play the game of the "Drown" curse, but this time, he no longer had her practice the "Suppress" curse—he simply let her play to her heart’s content.

Green Chi gladly agreed, thinking that while Sanqing Mountain was wonderful, it was even better with him around. Man and dragon splashed across the lake, their voices chanting "Drown" and dragon songs harmonizing.

This body’s water magic was far more abundant than his original flesh; even when his voice grew tired, his magical power seemed inexhaustible.

Seeing Green Chi also tiring, he promised to return another day.

Though reluctant, Green Chi nodded, telling herself that today had been immensely joyful—no need for greed. She would wait for his next visit, and by then, secretly learn "High Mountain" to make him happy, too.

——

Cheng Xinzhan returned to the Carefree Cave and sat beneath the persimmon tree on a bamboo mat, referencing the translated books as he read through "Essentials of Thunder Mansion Duties" and "Divine Dawn Techniques for Thunder Qi."

Time flew by.

In the blink of an eye, the day arrived that he had arranged with the learned teacher.

At dawn, he left the bamboo grove, this time leaving the dog behind in the Carefree Cave to guard the house.

On the southeastern side of Pivot Mountain, he immediately saw the Eighteen Slopes, resembling vast terraced fields, much broader than those in the Miao Mountains.

On these slopes, tall buildings stood. He arrived at the One-Heart Tower on Frostview Terrace, a three-story wooden building.

Cheng Xinzhan approached and knocked.

“Come in, third floor,” came the voice of the learned Daoist from within.

Cheng Xinzhan entered, ascending to the third floor, where two meditation mats were laid out on the sunlit terrace. The learned Daoist sat on one and invited Cheng Xinzhan to sit.

Cheng Xinzhan crossed his legs and returned the two books to the Daoist.

“Have you finished reading them?”

“I have.”

“Any doubts? Speak freely.”

Cheng Xinzhan did have questions, particularly about the source of Thunder Qi—how to draw it into the body. The book stated, "Pour into the receptacle orifice, begin to ingest Thunder Qi." But how to pour it in, and which orifice, was unclear. It seemed literal, but he feared he might misunderstand the essence of Thunder-Tally script.

The learned Daoist smiled and explained, “Thunder is born when heaven and earth are first opened, aligned with yin and yang, and placed above the five elements. Thus, the hundred orifices of the human body can all receive Thunder Qi.

“But we post-heaven cultivators, to balance yin-yang and the five elements, deliberately select certain orifices suited to Thunder nature. For instance: the nose for its sound, the eyes for their light, the gallbladder for its intent.

“As for ingesting Thunder Qi, it is exactly as the book says. You’ve only ingested the five elements so far, correct?”

Cheng Xinzhan nodded.

The Daoist continued, “Methods for ingesting the five elements, yin-yang, and thunder are all distinct.

“The five elements are post-heaven essence; their qi pervades everywhere, so one needs only to breathe and ingest. Yin-yang is the mother of the five elements, born in pre-heaven and scarce in post-heaven. Most yin-yang left in the world is contained in the sun and moon—those two stars hold ninety-nine percent. To ingest yin-yang, one must draw upon their radiance, which depends on day and night, the hours, seasons, phases, and even weather. It’s much less convenient than ingesting the five elements.

“Beyond sun and moon, a little remains, which combines with the pure and turbid qi of the world to form Celestial Gang and Earth Fiend. Gang and Fiend each have yin and yang, totaling eighteen yang gangs, eighteen yin gangs, thirty-six yang fiends, thirty-six yin fiends. Though occasionally out of balance, they’re generally even, dictated by celestial numbers.

“So to ingest yin-yang, either absorb sun and moon essence or use Celestial Gang and Earth Fiend—there’s no third option. The former depends on timing, and for ordinary bodies and breathing methods, one can only absorb a little at sunrise or midnight. The latter is rare—Gang and Fiend are treasures wherever found, rarely accessible. If they’re unclaimed, they’re in remote places, hard to find.

"Ha, this old Daoist has kept Fiend for years, but never found a suitable Gang to match it—such difficulty!"

As he spoke of his own plight, he sighed, unaware that the young Daoist before him, unlucky or lucky depending on perspective, had come to study thunder methods precisely because of a new Fiend.

He continued, “Ingesting thunder is even more restrictive—it must be true thunder! There is no such thing as thunder qi lingering in the world; thunder never stays long. After storms, thunder dissipates completely. So we call the thunder we ingest 'Thunder Qi' or 'Thunder Essence,' to distinguish it from post-heaven qi.”

Cheng Xinzhan was puzzled, “Does ingesting Thunder Qi mean standing in a storm and letting yourself be struck?”

“Ha!” The Daoist laughed, “You wish! Whenever thunder descends, to seize the thunder essence, we—along with Yuan Mansion, Dragon Tiger Mountain, and Blade Summit—employ every trick to compete for it. You, on the other hand, think you can just take thunder directly with your flesh? If you dared, they’d kill you in the name of upholding the Dao!”

Seeing his nominal disciple stunned, the Daoist chuckled and explained:

“Thunder is the mechanism of creation—it sets the timing of heaven, judges rain, cleanses filth, awakens life, so vital! Unlike the sun and moon, whose radiance is inexhaustible, thunder is different—each time it appears, there’s only so much. If someone rashly intercepts the celestial thunder, who will repay the karma owed by all beings?”

Cheng Xinzhan was taken aback; upon reflection, it made perfect sense.

“How, then, can we collect thunder essence?” he asked.

The Daoist smiled, “When thunderclouds gather anywhere, we thunder cultivators go to wait and observe whether the thunder is scant or abundant.

“If scant, it’s only enough for the local beings or even insufficient; then we leave empty-handed—it cannot be harvested. If abundant, after fulfilling its celestial purpose, some remains, and that’s when we display our abilities.

“But never as you suggest, directly intercepting thunder. For thousands of years, everyone has agreed: when thunder concludes, we line up, each preparing our vessel to hold thunder essence. Then we raise our thunder-attracting implements—flags, swords, talismans. The best artifacts or methods draw more thunder; what falls into your vessel is yours.”

Cheng Xinzhan hadn’t realized attracting thunder was so complex, but quickly thought of another issue, “If so, wouldn’t crowds gather each time thunder descends, and each person only get a tiny share? Moreover, wouldn’t the strong always get more, leaving nothing for lesser cultivators?”

Hearing this, the Daoist’s eyes lit up, “You’ve grasped the nuance! Yes, if it were only as you say, the strong would grow stronger, and the weak would never rise. But the mysteries of thunder methods are not so simple!

“After ingesting Thunder Qi, one bears the mark of thunder; next time, it’s harder to attract more. One must wait—a fortnight, or two or three months—until the mark fades, before it’s suitable to attract thunder again. So each thunder event, the crowd isn’t large—it’s done in batches, and you often see familiar faces!

“As for your second point, it doesn’t happen. The more a cultivator attracts thunder, the heavier his karma with heaven and earth. When he reaches a certain state, he can generate thunder himself—using yin-yang and the five elements to create post-heaven thunder. Then, he can no longer attract natural thunder lest he incur more karma; instead, he must send his own thunder into the world to repay what he owes.”

Cheng Xinzhan nodded; thunder methods truly demanded much.

“If you wish to learn thunder methods, you must consider thunder implements. Now it is the season of Awakening of Insects, spring thunder rolling. Though my Evil-Banishing Office mainly uses autumn thunder, no one disdains more thunder essence. You can use spring thunder, and once the mark fades, you won’t miss autumn thunder.”

“Please instruct me,” Cheng Xinzhan said sincerely.

The Daoist stroked his beard and explained,

“Thunder implements can be divided into guiding implements, storage implements, and warding implements. Guiding implements are usually swords, spears, flags—used to attract thunder and to wield thunder spells offensively.

“Storage implements are cups, jars, inkstones, gourds—used to hold and store thunder essence. Because the human body is fragile and thunder fierce, directly ingesting thunder can harm the flesh, so storage implements are used to hold it temporarily and sip it bit by bit, refining it into the orifices.

“Furthermore, the capacity of the orifices to hold thunder is limited, but thunder is rare—so we lesser cultivators, whenever we find abundant thunder, must harvest it; thus, carrying containers is vital.

“As for warding implements, these must be considered later, or by those who base their cultivation on thunder methods. Only heavy implements like bells, cauldrons, or mirrors suffice—they imitate heaven’s majesty, embodying thunder’s weight, sound, or light. When a warding implement is deployed, it’s as if thunderclouds descend—no need for spells, thunder pours forth like heaven’s punishment. But it’s said all thunder heavy implements ultimately become thunder pools.

“For now, Xinzhan, focus on guiding and storage implements.”

To update everyone: from now on, I’ll post only full chapters under normal circumstances. It’s uncomfortable to break into smaller parts, and it’s not enjoyable to read that way. Extra updates to repay debts will depend on time.

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(End of this chapter)