The figure sat on the blue stone directly above the Dragon Gate, with the moonlight spreading out from behind him.
Lord Fubai hung in mid-air, his slit-like pupils reflecting the figure, causing him to daze for a moment.
Thousands of years ago, when he was still just a young Jiao, he had seen from afar a true dragon ancestor of his clan, who had already reached the Sixth Realm, being pinned to a reef by a man carrying a wine flask. With a single stroke, the dragon's head was severed, and the man had tilted his head back to drink the spurting true dragon blood as if it were wine.
For three hundred years, the Jiao race lived in terror. The older generation turned that man's name into a taboo, and when it reached the ears of the younger generation, it was the Life-Defying Calamity-Slaying True Monarch.
Now, the figure before him sat upon the Dragon Gate, swordless, with only a fishing rod resting across his knees.
For some reason, Lord Fubai felt that the figure from thousands of years ago who drank his ancestor's blood was slowly merging with Gu Chengming at this very moment.
The old Jiao snapped out of his daze and immediately realized that this was a death trap set specifically for him, causing him to become instantly alert.
This boy is only in the Third Realm; if he dares to set such a massive trap here, there must be fellow cultivators lying in wait. Charging in was already a mistake; staying any longer would be seeking death.
With a sweep of his Jiao tail, the seawater poured down like a silver waterfall as he turned to flee back into the deep sea.
However, in the next instant, the sound of the tide became like wind passing through paper curtains, and the splashing of fish became like cotton falling to the ground. Lord Fubai felt as if the future in which he was supposed to escape had been wiped away by a single stroke, and his entire Jiao body was forcibly dragged back, suspended three feet above the Dragon Gate.
A murderous light suddenly flared in his eyes.
A mere Third Realm junior possessed such means?
Those lying in wait behind him... there must be more than one in the Fifth Realm!
Murderous intent surged. Since there was no way to retreat, he might as well go all the way. He would pounce and take this boy as a hostage; no matter how many were lying in wait, they would have to show some restraint.
The hundred-zhang Jiao body reared up again, its Jiao maw wide open as it lunged ferociously at the man on the blue stone. The wind carried a fishy stench and a pressure strong enough to shatter the heart and meridians of an ordinary Third Realm cultivator on the spot.
Gu Chengming did not move. When the Jiao's head was only three feet away, Lord Fubai finally sensed that within a ten-mile radius, there truly was only Gu Chengming!
He was instantly shocked and delighted. Shocked that a Third Realm junior dared to hunt a Fifth Realm Jiao-dragon alone, and delighted that the strategist truly hadn't kept any trump cards.
Lord Fubai laughed from extreme rage. "Gu Chengming!! I didn't come looking for you, yet you've delivered yourself to my door to die!"
The Jiao's maw lunged straight for Gu Chengming.
【Hundred Bones Resonating roared: Just in time!】
【Infinite War God, Come Out!】
A crimson-gold radiance solidified beside Gu Chengming. The white hair of the girl's phantom stood on end, and her crimson-gold eyes brimmed with overwhelming emperor qi as her fingers interlaced with his.
【Emperor Bai, lend me your strength!】
The crimson-gold and white-gold energies locked, twisted, and exploded in mid-air.
—Love Infinite!
That punch slammed into Lord Fubai's head. Lord Fubai felt as if his entire body were being pressed onto a chopping block. The old wound on his back from the battle at the Hunyuan Sect instantly split open, his scales scattering like shattered porcelain as Jiao blood erupted from the wound, dyeing the seawater within three zhang red.
The hundred-zhang Jiao body was smashed head-on by this punch, crashing heavily back into the sea.
The waves exploded nine zhang high. Lord Fubai lay amidst the foam, his Jiao eyes blood-red, a hiss escaping his throat.
To be honest, he was stunned.
Anyone in this situation would be stunned. A mere Third Realm cultivator had actually unleashed a punch comparable to a half-step Sixth Realm.
The killing intent in Lord Fubai's heart was gradually overtaken by fear. This wasn't a human; this was a calamity! It was impossible for a human cultivator to possess such logic-defying power!
Knowing his defeat was certain, Lord Fubai lost all will to fight. He only wanted to flee; he only wanted to live!
He wanted to flee toward the Dragon Transformation Pool. Even if he was cut into two, as long as his Jiao soul could roll into the pool, there would be a slim chance of rebirth.
His Jiao tail lashed out, churning the entire sea area into a whirlpool. Using the force of the recoil, he fled toward the depths of the East Sea.
However, the moment he moved, two sets of footsteps suddenly sounded behind him, as if treading upon the moonlight.
【Flowing Cloud Following Moon Sword Art CG: I Will Love You Until the End of Time.】
A semi-transparent girl's phantom rose behind Gu Chengming, dressed in moon-white robes, the coolness of her fingertips like moonlight.
The girl leaned down from behind him, her right hand sliding down his sword-arm inch by inch, her fingers interlacing with his.
Two people, one sword. Moonlight spread across the spine of the blade, clouds rolling and unfurling. The sword light crossed the arc of Lord Fubai's flight, cutting into the Jiao's neck inch by inch.
Lord Fubai's escape speed was fast enough, but that sword was delivered even faster. He didn't even have time to let out a final roar. The hundred-zhang Jiao body suddenly froze in mid-air, and a nearly invisible silvery-white trace of moonlight between the head and the body slowly extended in a full circle around the Jiao's neck.
In the next breath, the Jiao's head fell.
The Jiao blood did not spray. The moment that pool of dark red blood left the body, it turned into a warm rain, drifting down into the East Sea. It dyed a portion of the sea red, yet unnaturally, there was not the slightest fishy smell.
It was as if someone had repaid an old debt, and repaid it cleanly, decisively, and honorably.
The hundred-zhang headless Jiao body crashed heavily into the sea, triggering a towering column of water.
As the water column settled, the sea surface returned to silence.
Only that portion of the sea dyed by the blood-rain shimmered with a faint crimson under the moonlight, like a piece of old silk casually tossed into the East Sea.
The Jiao's head landed beside the Dragon Gate driftwood. The last trace of light frozen in the Jiao's eyes reflected the man on the blue stone.
Gu Chengming looked down at it. "You've defaulted on this debt for thousands of years. Today, it is finally cleared."
As the Jiao blood entered the sea, the spiritual energy that had been dormant for thousands of years beneath the sea eye was awakened by the blood.
On the shallows where the nameless creek merged into the East Sea, a silver sea bass first leaped from the waves, followed by a second, then a third. Soon, they were indistinguishable; the entire shallows surged with fish scales, as if someone had dumped a bag of broken silver across the sea. The fish leaped and fell, each plunge creating a series of delicate silver ripples.
Further out beneath the surface, a few scattered jellyfish floated up, following the scent of blood. Their lantern-like bells pulsed, illuminating the dark seawater with a hazy glow.
A very faint rainbow appeared on the horizon. Logically, there should be no rainbow at night, yet there it was—perhaps an anomaly following the fall of a Fifth Realm powerhouse. The seven colors were so faint they looked like someone had used rice paper to blot a streak of light under the moon.
Gu Chengming picked up the empty wine flask on the blue stone and tilted it back, but unfortunately, the wine was finished, leaving him feeling a bit regretful.
Killing a wicked Jiao without any wine to follow felt like it lacked a bit of ceremony.
He casually set the empty flask beside the Dragon Gate driftwood, straightened his robes, and turned to leave.
Behind him, the rainbow bridge faded, the jellyfish sank into the deep sea, and the surface returned to darkness. Only the two characters for "Dragon Gate" on the driftwood still glowed with a faint cinnabar red, next to a hundred-zhang Jiao head with its eyes wide open, as if it still didn't understand how it had met such an end even in death.
...
Before the Hour of the Rabbit the next morning, the fish market at the north pier of Tingchao Town was already as noisy as a boiling pot of porridge.
Lao Li-tou had been a fisherman his whole life. This morning, he had originally just set out on his broken boat as usual, but the moment he cast his first net, he was nearly dragged into the sea along with it.
"Pull! Pull harder!"
Lao Li-tou shouted at the top of his lungs. His wife heard him from the shore and ran toward the pier, clutching her skirt, even losing a shoe in the process.
When that net was hauled up, the boat sat so deep in the water it nearly sank. Sea bass were squeezed against sea bream, sea bream were piled on Spanish mackerel, and there were even several golden-line eels that were rarely seen, their scales dazzling under the morning sun.
Lao Li's wife covered her mouth and knelt down, finally squeezing out a sentence after a long time: "Husband... did you raid the Dragon King's fish pond today?"
Lao Li-tou sat at the bow, panting and laughing at the same time. "Bah, bah, bah! Don't talk nonsense!"
Several old-timers with tobacco pipes gathered around, stretching their necks to look at the boat full of silver scales. After seeing it, they didn't say a word, but each turned and ran toward their own boats faster than the last.
"Quick, quick, quick! If we don't head out now, we'll miss the trip!"
"Old Zhang, why are you running so fast?"
"What are we waiting for? Waiting for my wife to cook congee?!"
By noon, every floating object in the waters near Tingchao Town had been launched—from three-masted ships to sampans that a single person could carry. Even the broken wooden basin Widow Wang used to pickle vegetables was carried off by her second son to scoop up fish.
The catch of the day was so large the wooden platforms of the fish market couldn't hold it all. In the end, layers of straw raincoats had to be spread over the stone slabs of the pier, and the fish were piled directly on top.
The old grandmothers in town sat at their doorsteps gutting fish until their wrists were sore, yet no one was willing to rest.
"These fish... these fish seem exceptionally fat."
"Exactly. Even the scales are a layer thicker than usual."
"..."
In the wine shop next to Tingchao Town, which usually had slow business, thirty jars of "Yunji White" were set out before noon. The wine lady stood behind the counter counting copper coins, her smile so wide her face wouldn't close.
Her husband asked what she was so happy about, and she said it was the first time in her life she'd seen the people of their town rich enough to order thirty whole jars of wine.
"Husband, what kind of day is it today?"
"Who cares?" The man rolled up his sleeves. "Wife, bring out the jar we've been saving at the bottom of the chest too."
...
In the afternoon, several daring fishing boys rowed their sampans upstream from the river mouth, originally wanting to see where these fish were coming from.
As they rowed, they saw that piece of old driftwood wedged between the reefs.
The two characters for "Dragon Gate" were carved on the wood, with an empty wine flask sitting beside it.
On the other side of the Dragon Gate driftwood, a Jiao head dozens of zhang in size, covered in grey-white scales, stared with dead-fish eyes toward the East Sea.
The boys on the sampan stared blankly, no one daring to make a sound.
The first to react was a youth of thirteen or fourteen, who fell into the water from the sampan with a splash.
"Jiao, Jiao, Jiao—" he flailed in the water, shouting between gulps of water, "Jiao! It's a Jiao! A Jiao's head!"
A group of fishermen who had followed to watch the excitement surged over at the sound.
More and more people gathered, until finally the Baozheng, the Lizheng, and even officials from the Honglu Temple arrived.
When that official saw the Jiao's head, his face turned pale. He took half a step back, nearly falling onto his backside in the seawater.
He naturally knew who this Jiao head belonged to, but why? Why was Lord Fubai actually dead?!
Amidst the crowd, someone first whispered: "An immortal has slain the demon."
Then, a second and third voice joined in.
"It's an immortal! An immortal has slain the Jiao!"
"An immortal came to our town?"
The old-timers were the first to react, their hands trembling as they bowed toward the driftwood. The fishing boys who had been watching the excitement also mimicked the adults and bowed.
The tide rolled over the reef beach, washing away the crimson stain of the blood-rain inch by inch.
...
In the south of town, at an inconspicuous tea stall.
The youth who had slain the Honglu Temple official with a single sword at the pier a few days ago was buried in a bowl of white congee.
He hadn't closed his eyes since last night. A dark red old wound still clung to his temple, and a section of his left sleeve had been torn open, with cloth strips crudely wrapped around it—evidently something he had handled himself during the gaps in his journey.
He had originally intended to leave Tingchao Town.
Having killed an official and a Jiao, he knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy.
But he had still carried his sword and stayed for a day.
Firstly, because the sword strike that night was clearly beyond his own level, and he wanted to know who had helped him; secondly, he had to find a safe place for those children he had rescued from the hold.
However, he hadn't expected that after sitting in this tea stall for only half an hour, he would hear about this morning's events.
"Have you heard? On those rotten reefs at the river mouth, a Jiao's head is hanging!"
"More than that, it's Lord Fubai!"
"What kind of immortal is this, to have such ability!"
"Such a massive event, and the immortal didn't even leave a name."
"Why leave a name? A true immortal doesn't leave a name!"
The youth's spoon stopped at his mouth, not moving for a long time.
—Lord Fubai?
Having asked around these past few days, he naturally knew that name. It was the old Jiao who had ruled the East Sea for a thousand years, the head of a race, a Fifth Realm demon cultivator. Even the government of the entire East Sea Prefecture had to give it some face.
His fingers tightened around the spoon.
As the old men in the tea stall talked, the topic turned to the bloodbath at the pier a few nights ago.
"Do you think that case at the pier the other night is related to this business at the river mouth today?"
"Hah, how could it not be? I'd bet my life it's the same immortal."
"Why didn't that immortal leave a name?"
"Why leave a name? An immortal's deeds aren't for us to see; they're for the Heavens to see."
He looked up at the busy town outside the tea stall. Fishmongers were shouting, children were crying, and old men were clicking their abacuses. Everyone's face glowed with an indescribable excitement.
An immortal slaying the Jiao.
He chewed on those four words for a long time.
He suddenly felt that the bowl of congee in his mouth tasted a bit better than before.
The youth silently finished the remaining half bowl of congee, set down his spoon, pulled out a few copper coins to press under the bowl, and walked outside.
He walked out of the tea stall and leaned over to pick up the old sword that had been leaning by the door. When he looked at it, he froze for a moment. His old sword had somehow been replaced by another.
The blade was a ghostly white, with dark patterns flowing along the spine. The youth instinctively looked around but saw no one.
After a moment of hesitation, he untied the strange sword. The moment the scabbard touched his hand, he felt its difference. This sword was exceptionally heavy, but the moment he gripped it, the blood-scab on his hand from a few nights ago felt a surge of warmth.
He instinctively drew the sword half an inch. The hilt was warm and smooth, and the blade was over eight inches wide, with two characters carved upon it.
—Slaying the Jiao.
...
In the small two-entry courtyard at the west end of Tingchao Town, the old boatman rose early to chop wood. It took a long time before he noticed something was wrong.
Usually, that "Young Master Li" would be up before dawn. By the time the old boatman boiled the water, the other would have gone for a walk around town. Today, most of the wood was already chopped, yet the windows of the west wing were still tightly shut.
The old boatman set down his axe, hesitated for a moment, and went over to push the door open.
The room was clean, with a piece of broken silver pressed onto the table.
Under the silver was half a sheet of paper folded neatly. The handwriting was quite orderly: "I have troubled you for several days. This is for the salted fish and crude brew. Chengming thanks you."
The old boatman picked up the piece of silver and weighed it; it was quite heavy, enough to cover the cost of the salted fish and brew for several days, with enough left over to buy Nannuan a new set of clothes.
He looked at that paper for a long time.
In the yard, Nannuan ran out barefoot. Seeing the empty room, she pouted.
She ran back to the inner room and pulled something from under her pillow—it was that pine nut.
The one the "Immortal Brother" had used to show her a trick a few days ago, the one that had bloomed into a white flower and dissipated into a breeze. She had originally thought this pine nut was just a pine nut.
But as she opened her palm, the pine nut sprouted, unfurled its leaves, and bloomed right in her hand.
A tiny white flower sat in her palm.
Nannuan stared with wide eyes for a long time.
The flower bloomed silently. She looked up. "Grandpa, Grandpa, look!"
The old boatman heard her and came out from the west wing, seeing the white flower in his granddaughter's palm from a distance.
He paused where he stood.
He remembered the "Young Master Li" on the boat deck the other day making a flower bloom between his fingers, and he thought of the "Immortal Slaying the Jiao" rumors spreading through town and the scene of this young master taking him to the Dragon Gate to fish. A realization suddenly struck him.
The old boatman looked up at the old painting on the wall of the main hall, depicting a white-clad swordsman slaying a Jiao. That immortal had hung in his hall for over a decade, the edges of the scroll worn and frayed. He then looked at the newly bloomed flower in his granddaughter's palm and suddenly began to laugh.
Little Nannuan looked up and asked, "Grandpa, that immortal sister said she would come back. What about the immortal brother?"
The old boatman stroked her head.
"They are both immortals," he said slowly. "When it is time to meet, we shall naturally meet again."
Nannuan gave a half-understanding "oh" and went back to staring at the small white flower in her palm.
She reached out a finger and gently touched the petal.
The petal swayed. A sea breeze brushed through the old osmanthus tree in the yard, shaking down a few fine golden specks that fell silently to the ground.
Another year of autumn.
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