Chapter 21: The Dragon King of the Canal

A peculiar procession moved through the mountains, over a dozen strong, with the Holy Mother seated on a palanquin at the rear.

In the center of the group stood a sturdy young man, a bamboo pole three or four zhang tall balanced vertically on his shoulder, its base as thick as a rice bowl, firmly pressed against his flesh; as he walked, the pole swayed only slightly, and when tired, he expertly shifted it to the other shoulder.

He looked like a folk performer doing “carrying the banner,” but his pole bore no cloth flag—only a small wooden bowl fixed at the top, containing something inside.

The Holy Mother sat on the palanquin, restlessly crossing and recrossing her legs.

Zhao Yong was dead; Chang Xunbei had vanished without reason; Wu Haishan had taken men to chase that boy and still had not returned.

The Holy Mother suddenly realized: she had no usable people left beside her!

If not for the few men who had arrived yesterday from the association, bringing the “bait” to catch the June Bug, the only capable person left with her would be her maid.

Several clerks from the Zhao Family Leather Shop had been forced into the mountains to take turns carrying the Holy Mother’s palanquin.

At first, they trembled in fear—they knew better than anyone else how terrifying Wushan was.

But along the way, the glimpses of the Holy Mother’s thighs had left them parched and thirsty; their fear gradually gave way to rising lust in their minds.

The Holy Mother glanced at them and saw: beneath their skull caps, the lust worms had grown fatter and stronger—finally, some comfort. When she caught the June Bug, she’d feast well!

The maid walked beside her, raising an eyebrow at the long, towering bamboo pole ahead, her eyes filled with confusion.

But she could tell the Holy Mother was agitated, and wisely kept silent.

The maid had served the Holy Mother for years and had learned four or five tenths of her methods.

With a sweet, innocent expression on her face, she chatted with the men sent by the association to escort the “bait,” and soon one of the younger Wu Xiu revealed everything.

“Though you suspect Xu Yuan may have already consumed the June Bug, the June Bug is peculiar—it differs from ordinary medicinal catalysts.

Even if Xu Yuan ate it, he cannot fully digest it within three months.

So as long as he smells the bait’s fragrance, the June Bug inside him will instinctively move toward it.

And within these three months, if you capture Xu Yuan and then… eat him, it will have the same effect as eating the June Bug.”

When speaking of eating people, neither the Wu Xiu nor the maid showed any unusual expression—as if they often did such things.

Their whispered conversation beneath the palanquin reached the Holy Mother’s ears.

The Holy Mother lazily interjected: “If Xu Yuan never ate the June Bug, we’ll leave immediately after catching it.

We’ll return in three months—I’ll carve open that boy’s skull myself!”

Xu Yuan had blown up her palanquin; never in her career had she been so humiliated, and thus she bore him a grudge.

At noon, the sunlight was perfect; the supernatural entities in the mountains, repelled by such vigorous yang energy, retreated into shadows and lay dormant.

The Holy Mother’s group halted to rest in a river valley.

Today was not a “Linhe” prohibition day.

According to the almanac, more than half the days of each month forbade “Linhe,” leaving few opportunities to rest or camp by the river.

The river here was about ten zhang wide, its current slow and gentle, its emerald waters rippling softly.

The riverbank was strewn with golden sand mixed with pebbles of all sizes; near the water, the sand was damp and soaked.

The strong young man at the front drove his bamboo pole into the ground—it sank deep into the sand, standing straight and rigid.

At the Holy Mother’s command, Zhao Yong’s clerks scrambled to prove themselves.

Some drew water, some lit fires, some gathered firewood.

The four new cultivators from the association each took a position, surrounding the bamboo pole and the bait—ready to strike the moment Xu Yuan appeared.

The Holy Mother sat on a large rock, gazing at the river and suddenly recalled: “River Worker Alley… When the imperial court dredged the canal here, countless laborers died along the way. Their descendants stayed behind, all living in River Worker Alley…”

The maid’s face changed: “Is Xu Yuan a descendant of those rebels?”

On days forbidden for “Linhe,” the only river one could approach without danger was the Grand Canal, crisscrossing the entire imperial realm.

Over two hundred years ago, the Ming Dynasty teetered on collapse.

Internally, Gao Chuang declared himself king, leading thirteen thousand veteran troops to ravage seven provinces in the northwest; externally, the Jian Nu rose, their eight banners’ cavalry unmatched in archery and horsemanship, breaching Shanhai Pass and advancing straight toward the Northern Capital!

Almost everyone believed the Ming’s mandate had ended—that within ten days, the dynasty would fall.

Yet at this desperate hour, the emperor personally paid homage to the Dragon King of the Canal—and suddenly, the entire canal system surged with torrential flow, transporting hundreds of thousands of elite southern troops to the Northern Capital overnight!

The Jian Nu were crushed; the Ming Dynasty survived.

Then, over twelve more years, they quelled Gao Chuang’s rebellion, exterminated the Jian Nu , and reclaimed all of Liaodong.

Afterward, the Ming opened the Canal widely; within a century, its waterways spread across the empire—even reaching the northwest and Liaodong.

It required no consideration of geology, hydrology, or other necessary conditions—once a channel was dug, the Dragon King of the Canal would force the waters to surge in.

The river dragon kings of various regions either surrendered their water systems to the Grand Canal, submitting beneath the Dragon King of the Canal—or… were stripped of their divine offices, dead or vanished.

The strange phenomena seemed to have begun precisely in that era.

Yet the Ming Dynasty grew ever “stronger.”

The Grand Canal’s vast, cheap transport capacity enabled the movement of troops and supplies; over the past century, the Ming’s territory had doubled.

In the north, they had fought the Snow-Slayer Ghosts for twenty-seven years, seizing twenty-seven hundred li of land from them.

In the southwest, Wushan had been part of Jiaozhi Kingdom one hundred and twenty years ago.

Now, it was Ming Jiaozhi Province.

Yet every time the Canal was dredged, massive corvée labor was imposed—tens of thousands, sometimes a million!

These laborers, far from home, often died far from their native lands during construction.

And since the work lasted years, by the time it ended, most laborers were too old to return home.

Hence, laborer uprisings were frequent—so much so that when the maid heard “River Worker,” her first thought was “rebel.”

Among the Ming’s newly expanded territories, many places resembled “River Worker Alley.”

The laborers who could not return stayed where they were, clustering together in settlements.

The Holy Mother had read some unofficial histories and shook her head lightly: “It’s not that simple. River Worker Alley… back then, it caused a great stir. It seemed to house some formidable figures.”

The maid looked puzzled, but the Holy Mother laughed softly and shook her head: “Ancient history. I’m overthinking. The court has countless ways to wear such people down. A hundred years have passed—River Worker Alley is probably filled only with old, weak, sick, and useless remnants.”

Zhao Yong’s clerks had already dug several hearths on the riverbank and lit fires to cook lunch.

The Wu Xiu slipped over quietly and whispered to the Holy Mother: “There seems to be some movement!”

The Holy Mother remained calm: “Stay composed.” Then added: “Be careful—this is still a land beyond the empire’s reach.”

Wushan received abundant rainfall, its river network dense; when the Canal was extended here, the Mountain-River Office clashed repeatedly with local anomalies, trading victories but never conquering the land—the Canal had to detour around Wushan.

Such places were called by the Ming “lands beyond the empire.”

The anomalies hidden within were often so powerful they troubled even the mighty Dragon King of the Canal.

(End of Chapter)