Chapter 63:
The Jiang King’s Tomb (Conclusion):
“The Longevity Lock, a Token of Admiration…”
Chen Henian stood before towering red walls, their surfaces adorned with intricate carvings, a golden glazed tile roof above, the palace pathways shrouded in mist, a high threshold before him.
He was like a time traveler, stepping into a historical drama.
The palace was called the East Palace, its name written on a plaque above the main gate, the residence of the crown prince, not opulent or gilded, but a structure of simple elegance, its tiled roofs and sturdy wooden beams bearing the weight of history, yet untouched by decay.
He walked through the courtyard, the path longer than he expected, a series of interconnected courtyards.
Only the last door was closed. He looked back, the path behind him vanished, leaving him only one choice. He pushed the door open, the sound of creaking hinges echoing through the silent palace.
He stood at the entrance, his footsteps halting, the Crown Prince’s bedchamber before him, the familiarity unsettling, the jiangshi having brought him here before.
He turned and saw a young man, shorter than himself, his hair tied in a long ponytail, a black band across his forehead, his youthful face full of energy.
“Fool,” Chen Henian muttered, recognizing the face, his jaw clenching.
A younger Yu Lin stood beneath a tree, a few wilting peach blossoms caught in his hair, his features softer, his jawline less defined, yet his eyes sharp and bright, his youthful energy uncontainable.
He seemed pleased to see Chen Henian, but his gaze quickly dropped to the ground, a small smile playing on his lips, not a wide grin, but a subtle upturn of the corners of his mouth. He knelt, bowing deeply, a single peach blossom hidden behind his back now revealed.
“Your Highness,” he said, his voice soft, his head still bowed.
Chen Henian heard the tremor in his voice, the youthful shyness, a mixture of awe and fear, his hand trembling as he held the peach blossom.
The young man’s image blurred, his voice fading.
Chen Henian, lying on the bamboo mat, gasped, his eyes snapping open to the wrinkled face of Zhou Xianzhi hovering above him.
“Xiao Niannian,” his master’s voice, and Chen Henian’s fist shot out, his sudden movement making him dizzy.
“Ouch— Looks like you’ve recovered.”
His fist was caught, held firmly, then released. “Master? Is that you?” he asked, surprised.
“Who else would it be?” Zhou Xianzhi grinned.
Despite his distrust of his master’s face, he recognized the familiar hand technique. It was indeed Zhou Xianzhi, the man who had vanished without a trace.
His voice was slightly hoarse. Zhou Xianzhi poured him a glass of water, the coolness clearing his mind.
He looked around. He was in the temple’s meditation room, lying on a bed.
Zhou Xianzhi stood beside him, looking at his face, then clutching his chest dramatically. “My dear disciple, you almost gave me a heart attack!”
Chen Henian’s color had returned, his face calm, his silence a response. He watched his master’s theatrics, wondering if he was on his deathbed.
“Yes, yes, while you were fighting, he was downstairs, refusing to eat a piece of meat because there wasn’t enough rice. He said it was too greasy,” the mirror ghost’s voice echoed in his mind, though it didn’t dare show itself.
“What?” It continued, its tone mocking. “You, so powerful, finally met your match?”
Chen Henian’s face turned serious. “What happened? When did you arrive?”
“I arrived just as you were being carried out of the tomb,” Zhou Xianzhi replied. “If I hadn’t consulted the I Ching and foreseen your safe return, my heart would have stopped.”
Chen Henian chuckled. “Did you wipe the grease off your mouth?”
Zhou Xianzhi instinctively touched his mouth, then realized he had been tricked. “Nonsense, I ate that yesterday!”
“A whole day has passed?”
Chen Henian felt a sense of unease, starting to get up, but Zhou Xianzhi pushed him back down. “Where’s the fire? There are no ghosts chasing you now.”
“You knew everything, didn’t you?” He rubbed the red string on his finger, a heavy feeling in his chest, a sense of unease.
“Relax, with your master here, nothing bad will happen,” Zhou Xianzhi smiled, stroking his beard, his expression reassuring, but Chen Henian still frowned, exhaling slowly, his body lighter, his heart heavier.
Just then, Jiang Wan and Zuo He appeared at the door.
“He’s awake,” Jiang Wan said.
Zuo He smiled. “You’re awake, Elder was right.”
Chen Henian looked at them. “Are you both alright?”
They both shook their heads.
“What about you?” Jiang Wan chuckled. “Don’t tell me you were trying to kill yourself. Zuo He’s senior brothers said you were yelling at the air, like a madman.”
Yelling at the air? He had been the only one who could see Yu Lin then. He fell silent, the realization unsettling.
“It’s nothing,” Zuo He said, seeing his somber expression.
“No, it’s not nothing,” Chen Henian said firmly.
Zuo He, puzzled by his serious tone, was about to ask, but Zhou Xianzhi interrupted. “We’ll talk later. Young man, since you’re here, go peel some fruit. He needs to eat something. No apples, he doesn’t like them. Peel a few and take them to your Uncle-Master, he’ll appreciate it.”
Zuo He, realizing he had forgotten about Chen Henian’s needs, nodded and left.
He didn’t understand social cues, but Jiang Wan did. Zhou Xianzhi was clearly trying to get rid of him, perhaps wanting a private conversation with his disciple. She wasn’t going to wait to be dismissed, so she said, “I’ll go explore the temple, I’ll see you later.”
“Don’t go! The temple isn’t going anywhere,” Zhou Xianzhi said. “We’re family, let’s chat.”
Jiang Wan, surprised by his words, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she couldn’t refuse. She smiled and sat down.
“Such a lovely face, you must be very intelligent,” Zhou Xianzhi said, smiling at her. “Not like that boy, strong but foolish. He recovered quickly, running around like nothing happened, but he’s so dense. His master was the one who fainted, not him, yet he kept pestering me with questions, more worried than I was, no sense of propriety.”
Jiang Wan smiled, her silence a response, unsure of his intentions.
“Why did I sleep for so long? I wasn’t injured,” Chen Henian asked.
He was the only one unharmed, yet he had been unconscious the longest. He only remembered feeling tired, his body weak, his eyelids heavy, then darkness.
“Because of that one,” Zhou Xianzhi pointed upwards. “Even ghosts get tired, their power finite. It was inside you, its exhaustion affecting you, draining your energy. A hidden dragon, ascending to the heavens, its power immense, too much for your mortal body to bear. It knew this, so it retreated, to protect your lifespan.”
“I see,” Chen Henian said. “Then I have to return to Dongpi Village.”
“I know what you want to do, but not now,” Zhou Xianzhi shook his head.
“Why?” Chen Henian demanded an explanation.
“I’ve already searched that mountain, a long time ago, found nothing,” he replied.
“He told me he was buried in a lake,” Chen Henian said.
“It’s useless, you won’t find it,” Zhou Xianzhi’s voice was serious. “After much research, I finally found a clue. His burial site is protected by an ancient array, the ‘Old Friend’ array.”
“To break the array, you need two objects connected to the deceased.”
“Objects?” Chen Henian was puzzled.
“Not just any objects, but objects imbued with emotion, admiration, camaraderie, familial love, two of these three are required.”
“If you want to go, you need to find these objects,” Zhou Xianzhi’s voice was serious, his words not a joke.
Chen Henian bit his lip, his frustration growing. Objects from the Jiang Dynasty, a thousand years ago, those were ancient artifacts, rare even in museums. Where would he find them? How long would it take?
Zhou Xianzhi, seeing his troubled expression, smiled, turning to Jiang Wan. “Young lady, any ideas?”
“You’ve asked the right person,” she replied, her anger fading, replaced by a grudging admiration. She finally understood why he had kept her around.
“You know?” Chen Henian looked at her.
“It’s not that difficult,” she nodded. “First, the longevity lock, a token of admiration.”
“Second, the Hegemon Sword, a symbol of camaraderie.”
“The Hegemon Sword?” Chen Henian asked.
“Princess Zhaoping’s sword,” Jiang Wan explained. “She fought alongside Jiang Wuwen, they were comrades in arms.”
“Indeed,” Zhou Xianzhi smiled. “Do you know where these objects are?”
“The longevity lock is with us,” Jiang Wan replied. “As for the Hegemon Sword, it drank the blood of countless enemies on the battlefield, its power immense, its aura fierce, said to be able to bind souls. Princess Zhaoping died by that sword, her spirit said to reside within it, its malevolence amplified. The Jiang descendants sealed it away in the Liany Mountains, my birthplace, the ancestral land of the Jiang clan.”
“The ghost control clan lives in seclusion, can we even enter?” Zhou Xianzhi asked.
Jiang Wan smiled. “Outsiders are forbidden, but I have other methods. I would be delighted to take Daoist Chen to my home.”
“Good, excellent!” Zhou Xianzhi slapped his thigh excitedly. “Xiao Nian, you have to go! And I’m worried about that jiangshi, it’s still obsessed with you. The ghost control clan is skilled in concealment, it won’t be able to find you there. Two birds with one stone!”
“Jiangshi?” Chen Henian was surprised. He was talking about Jiang Li.
“You didn’t destroy it?”
“It’s not that easy,” Zhou Xianzhi rolled his eyes. “Those three old fools are capable, they wouldn’t let a jiangshi escape. But it’s not just a jiangshi, even I didn’t expect it to be half-ghost, two souls merged into one, a hybrid creature. The battle almost destroyed the tomb, it almost devoured one of them, a pyrrhic victory. It vanished last night.”
“How can you call it a pyrrhic victory?” A voice came from the doorway, and Grandmaster Yongjian entered, his robes dusty, his face grim.
He forced a laugh. “Just a minor setback, it escaped, that’s all.”
Zuo He followed, carrying a basket of fruit.
Yongjian had him put down the basket. “I bought these yesterday, they’re still fresh, pears, grapes, melons, peel them here, my disciple’s knife skills are excellent.”
“Henian, how are you feeling?” he asked, approaching Chen Henian’s bed.
“I’m fine,” Chen Henian replied.
“Good, good, I wouldn’t be able to face my ancestors otherwise,” Yongjian smiled, then, met with silence, coughed awkwardly.
“Henian, come with me to Mount Jielü. Our ancestors protect our mountain, no human or ghost would dare harm you there. You’ll be safe. And you haven’t completed your Southern Daoist training, this is a good opportunity.”
Chen Henian looked at Zhou Xianzhi, who remained silent, then replied, “Thank you for your kindness, Elder, but I can’t accept.”
“With the jiangshi still at large, Mount Jielü is the safest place for you,” Yongjian continued. “The Northern and Tianyin sects might try to deceive you, but don’t listen to them, the Southern sect is…”
“Enough! My disciple is not going anywhere! I’m here to ensure his safe return,” Zhou Xianzhi interrupted, his usual playful demeanor gone, his voice firm. “Tomorrow, we’re leaving.”
