Chapter Twenty-Six: Fellow Travelers

The moment that wooden sword appeared, every blade in the Sword Mound bowed in submission, shivering and humming, a wave of sword cries reverberating through the air.

“A thousand swords pay homage to their master!” Xu Zhong thought to himself.

That thought flashed by in an instant.

The wooden sword drifted, tracing the familiar origin of its call, floating toward him.

No one knew what material had forged this sword—it was a weapon of peerless might.

Outside the Sword Mound, the vast black mists were instantly scattered under the sword’s gleaming light.

The Ghost Mother was seared by a fierce, scorching yang energy; her body sizzled as if aflame, wisps of blue smoke curling from her flesh.

She shrieked and retreated behind the Sword Spirit.

The Sword Spirit pressed his fingers together in a seal, and in that instant, an endless sword intent burst forth from him. He reached out, wishing to seize the sword.

But the wooden sword slipped free of his grasp and darted into Xu Zhong’s gourd.

The gourd quivered, then swallowed the sword whole.

“It seems you’ll have to come with me after all,” the Ghost Mother said, casting Xu Zhong a glance.

She could not seize the sword; neither could the Sword Spirit.

Without the sword, they could not reach Longdu’s Celestial Grotto.

This sword itself was the guiding mark.

“Refine this sword for a while, then we’ll set out for Longdu’s Celestial Grotto.”

At last, Xu Zhong heard the words preceding “Celestial Grotto.”

“Longdu… Celestial Grotto!” He tried with all his might, but only “Celestial Grotto” escaped his lips; the name Longdu remained unsaid.

Under the Sword Spirit’s and Ghost Mother’s watchful eyes, Xu Zhong dared not disobey. He hurriedly retrieved the wooden sword from the gourd.

So-called refining meant to brand the sword with his own mark, so the Sword Spirit would remember his aura and fall under his control.

The Sword Spirit still slumbered.

“This isn’t the Sword Spirit’s true form!” Xu Zhong’s heart leapt, though his expression did not betray it.

He could sense the Sword Spirit’s brokenness, and also the power within the wooden sword.

It was carved from peachwood.

The peach tree was a tree of pure yang, breathing in the sun’s essence, which settled in its grain.

Mortals would carve peachwood swords to ward off evil.

But this sword’s yang energy was far greater.

Xu Zhong felt as though he gripped the sun itself, sword aura streaming from its surface like a great river of scorching energy. No wonder the Ghost Mother could not draw near, forced to hide behind the Sword Spirit.

“May I take a look at the sword?” the Ghost Mother asked, not daring to force it, but testing him.

Xu Zhong saw no reason to refuse and handed over the sword.

With him controlling it, the sword’s yang energy was subdued, doing her no harm.

“I carved this sword with my own hands long ago—a peachwood blade, a gift to him when he first began learning the sword.” The Ghost Mother caressed the wood, her eyes filled with memories.

Xu Zhong could only stand silently to one side.

Suddenly, he noticed something.

On the ground, a trace of fresh green life had appeared.

“Miss Yun!” The Sword Spirit walked to the Ghost Mother’s side. “This sword carries a beacon. So long as you leave the Celestial Grotto of Swords, it will guide you directly to Longdu’s Celestial Grotto.”

The Ghost Mother could wait no longer. After returning the sword to Xu Zhong, she lifted Chang Yun and departed the Sword Mound, leaving the Celestial Grotto of Swords behind.

When their figures vanished into Longdu’s Celestial Grotto, the Sword Spirit returned to his dwelling.

A massive gate stood before him. Pushing it open, he entered a world of three tiers.

He stepped inside.

The wound on his hand slowly began to heal.

...

Xu Zhong withdrew his gaze.

He thought he had just sensed a mighty sword intent, like a rushing river.

But it had been as fleeting as a dream, intangible.

He supposed he must have been mistaken.

After leaving the Celestial Grotto of Swords, the wooden sword in his hand began leading the way of its own accord.

The Celestial Grotto of Swords was located in Qing Prefecture of the Yu Kingdom, fully one hundred sixty thousand li from Yangshuo.

Between them flowed a vast river—Liang River.

This river, second only to the Qu River, was the second largest in Yu.

It was said the name “Liang” came from the building of a great bridge.

At this moment, the banks of the Liang River were filled with shrines wreathed in incense smoke, so thick it formed clouds hovering in the air.

“It’s the Dragon Festival!” Xu Zhong recalled the festival described in books, finding it matched the scene before him.

The Dragon Festival came in spring.

In spring, the grass grows, orioles flit, all things revive, and life flourishes.

At this time, the people who lived along the river would build shrines on the banks, offering sacrifices to the Dragon God, praying for his blessings—good fortune, peace, and timely rain.

Those living away from the river would, on this same day, worship the Earth Deity.

“Dragon Festival”—the word “she” meant earth.

The emperor, too, would at this season perform grand rites at the ancestral temple.

It could be said that the Dragon Festival was a day of worship for all the Yu Kingdom.

The Ghost Mother cared nothing for festivals.

What concerned her was the clouds of incense swirling ahead.

Within those clouds, several azure dragons were devouring the incense offerings. At their head was a rare five-clawed blue dragon, like a patch of blue sky stretched across the heavens.

“So dragons truly exist in this world!” Xu Zhong had never seen a real one.

The only “dragons” he’d seen were snakes.

Clearly, this blue dragon was waiting for them.

No—for the Ghost Mother.

“Do you mean to bar my way?” The Ghost Mother frowned, displeasure clear on her face.

“Your demonic aura is too strong, your killing intent too heavy. I must stop you.” The blue dragon’s magic was immense, surpassing the Ghost Mother by far.

River gods like him—one breath could send wind for a thousand li, one sneeze could bring rain to a thousand more.

“The mortals below burn incense to worship me. They throw their offerings into the Liang, hoping I will protect them.” The dragon’s whiskers danced like lightning, crackling with thunder.

“In return for the incense that shapes my true form, I must shield them.”

“This land for three hundred thousand li around the Liang is my fief. If you set foot here, I will kill you.”

He seemed to restrain his anger.

Yet his wrath already shifted the heavens.

The Ghost Mother said nothing, turning away.

The Dragon God did not move, his gaze fixed upon her.

Not long after leaving the river, the Ghost Mother encountered a Mountain God.

This Mountain God was equally powerful, intimidating her and forcing her back.

Wherever they went, river gods barred their way at rivers, mountain gods at mountains.

It was as if they wandered in circles.

“So, the human world has more than just the Daoist Alliance…” Xu Zhong mused.

Mountain gods, river gods, earth deities—they, too, were guardians of the human realm.

They received the worship of mortals, but they protected them as well.

Some mountain, river, and earth gods, whose temples had fallen into ruin, whose powers waned, still dared block their path.

The Ghost Mother dared not act. She knew that should she strike, the gods would beset her from all sides.

Round and round, the Ghost Mother found herself back at the Liang.

“I do not kill mortals!” she declared, seeming to negotiate. “Your duty is to protect mortals from cultivators like me. I do not kill them—why bar my path?”

From her words, Xu Zhong finally understood the role of these gods.

Cultivators were far too powerful compared to mortals.

If a cultivator or monster began slaughtering people, these gods would intervene to suppress them. That was their duty.

“You have already killed many,” the Dragon God replied. In his eyes, her murderous aura had condensed into a crimson cloud, so thick it seemed to drip blood.

The Ghost Mother did not know what to say.

And so, dragon and demon hung suspended in the sky, locked in a silent standoff.

“Grandfather, I’m full!” A blue dragon transformed into a lovely young dragon maiden, tugging the dragon’s whiskers playfully.

“Xuan’er, if you’re full, take your brothers and sisters back to the river. Grandfather has business here.”

Xuan’er nodded, called to her siblings, and with a wave, the azure dragons followed her, vanishing into the river depths.

On the bank, the clamor of worship had ended. The people packed away their shrines, tossing the incense sachets into the water.

Unseen by mortal eyes, a school of great blue carp swam up and swallowed the sachets, delivering them to the Dragon Palace.

The palace was resplendent with gold and jade, piled high with offerings. Shell maidens and turtle spirits sorted and counted the tribute.

These were sights Xu Zhong and his companions would never witness.

As the confrontation continued, two figures approached from the distance.

One was a middle-aged man in yellow robes, a square jade seal at his waist.

Behind him walked a youth in white, beautiful beyond compare.

Both were familiar faces.

One was the senior who had guided them outside the Abyss, the other, the shed snake demon.

“Greetings, River God of the Liang,” said the middle-aged man, saluting the dragon.

His gaze lingered briefly on Xu Zhong, then fixed on the Ghost Mother.

“What a fierce aura—she must have killed many,” he remarked, his eyes carrying a hint of killing intent.

“I have never slain a mortal!” The Ghost Mother’s scalp tingled.

The pressure from this man was greater than the dragon’s.

“I know,” the man replied, his eyes gleaming with light.

Within his gaze, time itself seemed to flow, allowing him to glimpse fleeting fragments of the future. “You have not killed mortals yet. That does not mean you never will.”

But he made no move to attack.

“In Yu, we rule by law. Since you have broken no law, I will not kill you.”

The Ghost Mother breathed a sigh of relief.

Had he chosen to strike, she might never have left the Liang.

“River God, I have come to reclaim something I left with you,” the man said, his demeanor softening as he addressed the dragon.

“You have found the Dragon Veins of the ancient Yue state?” The dragon seemed surprised.

“All but the last, which lies in a mysterious place,” the man replied.

The dragon listened, then spat out a mountain range.

At first, it was tiny, but as it caught the wind, it stretched for thousands of li, only to be gathered swiftly into the man’s sleeve.

It left only a shadow hanging in the sky—perhaps to be mistaken for a mirage.

Then another mountain range, then a third—all spat forth by the dragon and received by the man.

From their exchange, it was clear what these mountains were.

The man glanced at the youth behind him.

He no longer carried the long spear.

“Thank you, honored elder,” the man said to the dragon, preparing to leave.

Before departing, he approached Xu Zhong. “Are you here under duress? If so, I can rescue you.”

“Yes, I am!” Xu Zhong replied without hesitation.

The man smiled and drew him to his side. The Ghost Mother dared not protest.

“You have broken no law of Yu, nor will Yu restrict your freedom. River God, might I ask you to grant her passage?” he said.

“Since it is your request, I cannot refuse,” the River God answered, glancing at her. “Tell me your destination, and I will inform the three hundred sixty gods along the Liang to let you pass.”

“Longdu’s Celestial Grotto,” the Ghost Mother replied coldly.

“Longdu’s Celestial Grotto.” The man tasted the words, as if intrigued. “As it happens, we are headed the same way.”