Chapter 82: Betrayal of a Promise

Dragon’s head, lion’s body, deer’s antlers, fish scales, goat’s beard, eagle’s claws, ox eyes, horse’s hooves, and a dragon’s tail.

Cheng Xinzhan was certain his eyes had not deceived him—this was a qilin.

Its face and scales were a striking blue, but its horns, beard, mane, and fins were all a dazzling gold—a mingling of sapphire and gold, impossible to ignore.

Yet more eye-catching than the qilin’s shining scales were the countless wounds that marred its immense frame. Some wounds had torn through scale and fur, some were so deep the bone gleamed through, and many pierced entirely through the creature’s mountainous body.

And yet, beneath these wounds, not a drop of blood was to be seen—only golden flesh and jade-like bone.

He glanced at the qilin’s belly and nostrils; there was not the slightest stir of breath. Together with its injuries, it seemed as though this creature had been dead for many years.

But from that colossal form, those jagged scales and antlers, and the wounds that riddled it, there emanated a fierce, unyielding majesty—a spirit that would not bend, even in death. That aura burned itself deeply into Cheng Xinzhan’s mind.

He steadied his nerves and slowly retreated.

When he turned around, he found everyone staring at him.

Their eyes all held the same question:

“You can see it?”

Cheng Xinzhan nodded.

“Qilin.”

He mouthed the word silently; the others read his lips and comprehension dawned, their faces shifting through a myriad of expressions.

“So, someone from the old Zhu family has finally come?”

A man’s voice rang out then, sonorous and grand, a sound like the clash of metal.

Everyone’s face changed, and Cheng Xinzhan was especially shocked. That grievously wounded qilin was still alive?

“Why are you all hiding so far away? Bold enough to act, but not to show your faces?”

The voice spoke again.

Zhu Jianmo’s round face turned pale. Did this mean his own ancestors had harmed the qilin? Could it be the Zhu clan had left it in such a state?

“Are you not coming forward? Has the Zhu family lost its courage? Or are you all struck dumb?”

The voice was growing impatient.

Zhu Jianmo was nearly in tears, but he shuffled forward, step by step, until he reached the end of the passage. He poked his head out and stammered,

“Descendant of the Zhu family, pays his respects to the elder.”

“Why are your eyes closed?” the qilin asked.

Zhu Jianmo thought, even half-dead, this qilin’s gaze was something to be reckoned with. He slowly opened his eyes.

“Huh?”

He let out a startled gasp. The terrifying corpse had vanished, and beneath the fiery net stood a man, suspended in the air.

A majestic man clad in blue scale armor, with a cascade of golden hair.

“Plump and round—just as I’d expect from Zhu’s line. There’s another, isn’t there? Why is he hiding in the back?”

Zhu Jianmo was startled. He had his suspicions, but feigned ignorance.

“Elder, I alone bear the surname Zhu here. The others are my fellow disciples, not members of the Zhu family.”

The man scoffed, “That one, though his body isn’t present, his essence is whole. Bloodlines are not just flesh. He’s used a soul-returning art and thinks I wouldn’t notice? I’m not so blind.”

The group was even more astounded. Sun Miaoshu and Xu Jishen began searching for a hidden seventh person.

Cheng Xinzhan murmured, “No need to look. It’s me. Matters of the flesh, I’ll explain later.”

He stepped to the edge of the passage, and like Zhu Jianmo, was momentarily taken aback—the qilin’s corpse had disappeared, replaced by a man.

“Elder, I do not know my origins and meant no deception. The surname Zhu is now the imperial name, and after centuries of peace, the royal bloodline has surely spread far and wide. I only learned of this today. Perhaps I carry a trace of Zhu blood.”

The man regarded him in silence for a dozen heartbeats, then suddenly laughed. “Do you think any bloodline can see me? You look exactly like his eldest son—how could your blood be thin? At the very least, purer than this little fatty’s.”

Cheng Xinzhan exchanged a glance with Zhu Jianmo. The latter asked, “Elder, whom do you mean by ‘he’?”

“Who else? Zhu Chongba. Though he took a grander name later, I forget what it was.”

Cheng Xinzhan felt as if struck by lightning.

Zhu Jianmo stared at him in shock, mouth agape. “The eldest son of the Great Founder… Xinzhan, you—you’re a descendant of Crown Prince Yiwen!”

There was more Zhu Jianmo didn’t say, but all the disciples present understood. The first Crown Prince of the Ming, having died young, left only two lines: the Jianwen Emperor and the Prince of Wu. Their descendants had either vanished with the Jianwen Emperor or lived under the shadow of the Yongle line. No one knew which branch Xinzhan belonged to…

Cheng Xinzhan’s breath quickened—a rare thing since he had begun cultivating qi. Yet after a few moments, he regained his composure.

“I am an orphan, raised by foster parents, bearing the surname Cheng. My only connection to the Zhu family is through my mother’s maiden name. Beyond that, I have no ties.”

The golden-haired man’s gaze flickered between the two and he let the matter drop.

“You both possess spiritual power. Come down. I dislike speaking with people who look down on me.”

Cheng Xinzhan and Zhu Jianmo exchanged glances. Cheng Xinzhan asked,

“Elder, the Zhu family’s dragon vein in Zhongdu is tainted with death and nearing depletion. Was this your doing?”

The golden-haired man grew impatient. “Yes. Come down here. So long as you don’t cross this web, I can’t harm you. Zhu Chongba knew what he did—didn’t he tell his descendants?”

With another glance at each other, they reasoned that such a mighty immortal would hardly bother with deceit. If he meant them harm, he’d hardly wait for the net to be tested.

They rode their clouds down into the cavern, alighting above the fiery web.

The man rose upward as well, the red web ballooning with his movement, until his gaze was level with theirs.

Cheng Xinzhan saw him more clearly now—a face chiseled as if from stone, noble and imposing.

“How many years since Zhu Chongba founded his realm?” the man asked.

“Four hundred and forty years,” Zhu Jianmo replied.

“After so long, and with you cultivators outside the mortal world, how did you find this place?”

Cheng Xinzhan answered, “We are disciples of Mount Sanqing. In recent years, we observed spring thunder diminishing; suspecting a buildup of yin energy in the earth, we sought the source and traced a dying dragon vein here, beneath the imperial tomb.”

“Mount Sanqing?” the man was surprised. “The lineage of Master Ge, then?”

At these words, everyone relaxed. So he knew their founder!

Zhu Jianmo nodded. “Indeed. Master Ge is our sect’s patriarch. Elder, you’ve heard of him?”

The man nodded. “In days past, I discussed the Golden Immortal path with your founder. His insights benefited me greatly.”

Astonishment swept the group. They had thought the man merely knew of their founder, not that he was his contemporary—six millennia past!

“I half expected Zhu’s descendants to come as their dragon vein faded, not for you to stumble here by accident.”

Zhu Jianmo ventured, “Elder, what grudge exists between you and the Zhu clan?”

Cheng Xinzhan, too, was curious. A qilin hidden beneath the Zhu family’s tomb, seemingly sealed—how could even the great Ming founder accomplish such a feat? And this qilin was no easy foe; even sealed, it could harm the dragon vein with its arts.

The man looked at them both and said, “Since you are his descendants and also heirs to the Master’s teaching, I may as well tell you—so you’ll know what kind of scoundrel your ancestor was!”

Neither Cheng Xinzhan nor Zhu Jianmo dared utter a word.

“I call myself Jin Mingzi, of the Golden Qilin race. I attained the Way in the Jin Dynasty but never grasped the Golden Immortal truth. Remaining too long in the mortal world, I failed and, in the Tang era, ascended at the Celestial level. In the heavens, I made enemies—nineteen Celestials encircled and slew me, casting me down to earth.”

Seeing their stunned faces, Jin Mingzi smiled and went on. “Perhaps it was fate. My corpse fell into the Flaming Mountains of the northwest, where the earth-fire refined my remains into a golden corpse. My resentment, unquenched even by the flames, was nourished by the Earth Mother. Thus I entered the Path of the Corpse, cultivating in confusion for seven centuries, until I became an Immortal Corpse and recalled my past life.”

Everyone listened with bated breath—a Celestial in life and an Immortal Corpse after death; to achieve both paths was unheard of.

“Hatred for my killers burned brighter after death. I recalled every detail, pondering the origins of those nineteen attackers. The more I thought, the more complex it seemed. But my corpse cultivation had not yet matched my former power, so I bided my time, seeking to strengthen myself and plot my revenge.

“In my wanderings, I sought a place to nurture my corpse. In the last years of the Yuan, I came to Fengyang. While searching for a suitable tomb, I met Zhu Chongba.

“He was then a prominent general, returning home in glory to repair his ancestral graves. We met by chance on the road. He admired my bearing and even tried to enlist me as an officer.

“I laughed him off and would have left, but a second glance revealed dragon energy upon him. Fengyang is a cradle of emperors—the Huai West dragon vein converges here. Amid the chaos of the time, I saw that destiny pointed to Zhu Chongba.

“Seeing the Yuan’s virtue exhausted, I struck a bargain with him: I would teach him the Iron-skin Dao Soldier method and the ‘Qilin Devours Gold’ formation. In return, once he seized the empire, he would build my tomb and arrange the formation, drawing off the Yuan’s lingering virtue to nourish my corpse. He agreed.

“I chose this cavern, located at the mouth of the Huai Dragon’s pearl. Nearby lay the Zhu clan’s dragon vein. He used the pretext of moving his family’s graves to break ground here. After taking the throne, he kept his word, building Zhongdu atop the dragon vein with the ‘Qilin Devours Gold’ array, channeling all the land’s gold energy to this spot.”

So that was why the Ming Founder was so determined to build Zhongdu!

“In the eighth year of his reign, I sent word for him to visit. I told him the array was complete; construction no longer mattered. Adding more bricks would not affect the formation.”

Everyone realized this explained why, in the eighth Hongwu year, the Ming founder abruptly halted construction after inspecting Zhongdu.

“I made a further deal. Now that the world’s gold energy was gathered here, I would enter seclusion to heal my corpse’s old wounds. But I feared my enemies might seek me out, so I needed the Ming’s fate and imperial blood to shield me from heaven’s eyes. In exchange, when I awoke, I would grant the Zhu clan one favor within my power.

“He agreed. I taught him the ‘Bloodlock Heaven-Net,’ to be cast with imperial blood. But his alone was insufficient; he had to summon all the royal kin to bleed for the ritual. I also taught him to cast it from afar. After he left, the blood descended, forming a fiery net that concealed me from the heavens. Only Zhu’s blood descendants could see the net and, beneath it, my body.

“Up to that point, I thought him a man of his word,” Jin Mingzi said calmly.

“What happened after?” someone asked.

“I slept in peace—until ten years ago, when I was forced awake. I found the incoming gold energy dwindling, vanishing as soon as it entered the cavern—even my own reserves were being drained. By my calculations, the Yuan’s virtue should have lasted much longer. Tracking where the energy fled, I examined the foundation of Zhongdu and found the formation had been altered. Now it funneled gold energy into fire, feeding the Zhu dragon vein instead.

“When the Zhu vein had devoured all the gold energy, it began to feed on my golden corpse itself. That finally woke me.

“I tried to leave, but found the ‘Bloodlock Heaven-Net’ had been transformed into a sealing net.”

Zhu Jianmo protested, “But elder, you are twice an immortal, and this formation was your own design. How could a mere mortal like our ancestor alter it and still keep you trapped?”

Jin Mingzi replied, “Ordinary ‘Bloodlock Heaven-Net’ would not hold me. But this one is tied to the emperor’s blood, Zhongdu’s formation, and the dragon vein beneath. If I force my way out, Zhu blood will perish, Zhongdu will collapse, and the earth-dragon will rise—a disaster for countless people. I won’t cause a massacre for one man’s offense.

“As for how he altered the array, I cannot say. But never say it’s impossible. Zhu Chongba had a man named Liu Bowen at his side—a mortal, but one who could read the stars and command spirits.”

Zhu Jianmo fell silent. He had heard tales of Liu Bowen severing dragon veins.

“So you released corpse energy into the Zhu dragon vein?” Cheng Xinzhan asked.

“Precisely. I fed the Zhu dragon with corpse energy—not to destroy it, for I could do that at any time, but to slowly corrupt it. The Zhu fate is tied to their dragon vein; as the royal clan ailed, they would surely come searching for me. Then, I could demand an explanation.

“Yet the emperor did not come. Instead, you found me first.”

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