Chapter 429: The Old Jinghe Dragon Seeks His Death; Storms Rise in the Northern Continent

In the Western Cattle Continent, Qiao Ling walked along an ancient road, fanning himself with a folded fan, his white robes spotless as snow.

Kongji had shed his brocade kasaya as abbot of the Great Compassion Temple and now followed in a coarse gray cotton robe.

“Venerable, a hundred li ahead lies the territory of Baolin Kingdom,” Kongji said softly, his voice filled with reverence.

Qiao Ling stopped walking.

“Baolin Kingdom,” Qiao Ling tapped his fan. “I’ve heard its ruler is deeply devout to the Buddha; there are over three hundred temples within its borders, and more than ten thousand monks. The people surrender half their annual harvest as temple offerings—is that true?”

Kongji clasped his hands together.

“Indeed, Venerable. The Buddha’s sect has taken deep root in the Western Cattle Continent. These temples seize fertile land and lend money at exorbitant rates. Any who resist are branded as disrespectful to the Buddha, their families ruined and destroyed.”

Qiao Ling sneered.

“The Buddha’s sect is insatiable; the people suffer unbearably. This is our opportunity.”

Qiao Ling turned to look at Kongji.

“Go. Practice the Great Freedom Dao. Sow its seeds among these impoverished people.”

Kongji bowed deeply.

“Disciple understands. I shall set the Great Freedom Dao ablaze throughout the entire Baolin Kingdom.”

Qiao Ling nodded, signaling he need not follow—Kongji could depart.

After bowing, Kongji turned and walked down another path leading to a mountain village.

Qiao Ling lifted his head, gazing at the deep blue sky of the Western Cattle Continent.

Here, Buddha’s light bathed all, appearing a land of ultimate bliss.

Yet beneath this glittering facade, countless impoverished masses struggled to survive.

One day, the Great Freedom Demon Dao would overthrow this false paradise.

In the Southern Continent, Tang Dynasty’s Changancheng.

West Gate Street buzzed with noise, teeming with carts and crowds.

Su Chen, dressed in a blue scholar’s robe, sat beside a roadside tea stall.

He held a bowl of coarse tea, his gaze crossing the crowd to a fortune-telling booth just ahead.

The booth was packed solid with curious onlookers.

Behind it sat an old man, his bearing ethereal and serene—Yuan Shoucheng.

Before it stood a white-robed scholar, his face stern, fanning himself with a folded fan, his demeanor hostile.

“You fortune-teller, they say you can divine all things under heaven!” The white-robed scholar slammed his palm on the table, rattling the bamboo divination rods. “Today I’ll test you—see if you’ve any real skill!”

Yuan Shoucheng stroked his beard and smiled calmly.

“What would you like divined, sir?”

“The weather!” the white-robed scholar laughed. “Predict: will it rain soon? If so, when? And how much?”

Yuan Shoucheng picked up a tortoise shell, shook it, and spilled out several copper coins.

He glanced at the omen, then spoke with certainty.

“Rain tomorrow. Clouds gather at Chen hour, thunder rolls at Si hour, rain falls at Wu hour, and by Wei hour, it will be full.”

The white-robed scholar sneered.

“How much rain?”

“Exactly three chi, three cun, and forty-eight points,” Yuan Shoucheng said clearly.

The white-robed scholar threw back his head and laughed loudly.

“Fine! I’ll wager with you. If your prediction is exact down to the hour and point, I’ll give you fifty taels of gold as payment. If you’re off by even a fraction, I’ll smash your booth and banish you from Changancheng!”

Yuan Shoucheng nodded. “As you wish.”

The white-robed scholar swept his sleeve and turned, pushing through the crowd, striding toward the city gate.

The surrounding crowd murmured among themselves.

“Is that white-robed scholar mad? Yuan the Half-Sage has been divining in Changancheng for years—never once wrong.”

“Exactly. Daring to bet fifty taels of gold? Let’s see how he’ll face tomorrow.”

Su Chen drained his bowl of tea, watching the white-robed scholar’s back.

He knew this was the Jinghe Dragon King—the mighty Eight-River General, the Rain-Controlling Great Dragon God—who had come to the mortal realm to gamble and quarrel with a fortune-teller.

Su Chen activated his Dharma Eye, gazing at the Jinghe Dragon King.

Above the dragon king’s head swirled an extremely dense black aura—the aura of calamity.

This calamity aura clouded the Dao-heart, blinding immortals and gods to reason, driving them to act irrationally.

The Great Journey Calamity had officially begun. The Buddha sect needed a catalyst: to make the Tang Emperor journey to the Underworld, thus convening the Water-Land Assembly and legitimately summoning the scripture-seeker.

The Jinghe Dragon King was the sacrifice—his Dao-heart clouded by calamity, unaware he had stepped into the great calamity.

Su Chen dropped a few copper coins and stepped forward, following him.

If he could alter the Jinghe Dragon King’s fate, he’d gain Heavenly Mechanism Points—and disrupt the Buddha sect’s rhythm. Su Chen always delighted in annoying the Buddha sect.

The Jinghe Dragon King exited Changancheng’s West Gate and walked straight to the Jinghe River.

He glanced around, saw no one watching, then transformed and plunged into the churning waters.

Su Chen stood on the bank, his form flickering, vanishing into the void.

With Hunyuan spiritual power, Su Chen traversed the void, following the Jinghe Dragon King at a leisurely pace.

The Dragon King returned to his crystal palace and immediately summoned his aquatic generals.

“There’s a fortune-teller in Changancheng who dares claim he can predict tomorrow’s rain—hour and amount!” The Dragon King sat on his throne, smug. “I am the Rain-Controlling Great Dragon God! Without the Jade Emperor’s decree, who dares make it rain? Tomorrow, I’ll smash his booth and vent this anger!”

The shrimp and crab soldiers echoed his words, praising the Dragon King’s boundless power.

Su Chen hid within the crystal palace, preparing to whisper a warning—to reveal the old dragon’s entanglement with calamity aura and urge him not to alter the rain’s timing.

Suddenly, Su Chen frowned—he sensed an anomaly in the jade talisman he’d left on Huaguo Mountain; someone was attempting to contact him through it.

Su Chen furrowed his brow and used Hunyuan spiritual power to communicate with the one activating the talisman.

From the talisman came the anxious voice of Luan Erjie.

“Advisor, something’s happened in the Northern Continent!”

Luan Erjie, relieved to have reached Su Chen, continued:

“General Yanque reports someone is attempting to infiltrate the Northern Continent. Chaos has erupted there. Should our Demon Alliance intervene?”

Su Chen frowned. At this news, his first thought was the Demon Master Kunpeng.

Any disturbance in the Northern Continent must be his doing.

Kunpeng had long sought to control the demon clans, but due to pressure from the Heavenly Court and the Buddha sect, he’d kept it hidden. Why would he suddenly act so boldly now?

Su Chen swiftly weighed his options.

The Jinghe Dragon King was merely a small pawn on the Great Journey chessboard. Saving him would annoy the Buddha sect and earn Heavenly Mechanism Points.

But the Buddha sect’s depth was vast; without the Jinghe Dragon King, they could substitute the Weihe Dragon King—or even send a vengeful ghost to haunt Li Shimin. The Great Journey’s momentum would proceed regardless.

This was a minor matter—it wouldn’t alter the Great Journey’s course.

But the upheaval in the Northern Continent bore directly on the Demon Alliance’s long-term strategy. In his plans, the demon clans were indispensable.

The stakes were clear.

Su Chen glanced down at the crystal palace below, where the Jinghe Dragon King still boasted of how he’d humiliate Yuan Shoucheng tomorrow.

“So be it,” Su Chen thought silently.

He decisively abandoned any plan to interfere with the Jinghe Dragon King.

Su Chen unleashed his divine art, silently departing the Jinghe Dragon Palace and returning to Huaguo Mountain.