Chapter 237: Stopping to Observe the Water, the Dragon Sandbank

Long wind sweeps across the clouds, overlooking river and sky.

In summer, the Gan River bursts forth from the wild southern mountains like a dragon freed from chains, its scales churning, white waves crashing.

By the time it flows past the western outskirts of Nanchang City, whether drawn in by the immortal aura of Wanshou Palace on the western bank or subdued by the vast city on the eastern shore, the roaring river slows to a gentle drift, becoming the boundary between mortal and immortal realms.

On both banks, vegetation thrives thickly, layered forests dense as ink spilled, while near the riverbanks, red Liao flowers glow like cinnabar, reeds stand green as jade curtains, shimmering like rainbow clouds.

Wanshou Palace comes into view; the Three Clear Mountains' ceremonial procession gradually descends from the clouds.

At this moment, fishermen on the river, anglers on the shore, and residents of Nanchang City, seeing immortals manifest in broad daylight, cried out in astonishment, then knelt and praised them.

In the procession, Cheng Cheng Xinzhan was gazing at the Gan River, for every journey from Three Clear Mountains to the southern frontier or Wuling region required crossing the Gan River, so he was quite familiar with it. As the largest river in Yu Zhang, nourishing this land, he had always felt a deep affection for the Gan River.

Suddenly, he noticed a sandbank rising high in the river's center, its white gravel gleaming like fresh snow, winding a hundred zhang long, shaped like a coiled dragon drinking from a stream, brimming with divine grace.

Under the summer sun, the sand ridge glowed brilliantly, like dragon scales reflecting sunlight; the tail of the islet faded into the blue waves like a dragon's tail trailing through ripples. On the islet, reeds clustered, swaying in the wind like dragon's mane, while occasional heron shadows darted past, stirring rustling green waves.

Huh?

He stared at the white sandbank in the river, finding it deeply strange.

He remembered clearly: his first passage over the Gan River was after one year of studying Dao in the mountains, when he descended to tour the southern frontier in the summer of Ming 425, at age sixteen—he had seen no sandbank then.

By his third year of cultivation, Ming 427, early that year the Peach Capital's White Mirror had shattered; he spent a year in quiet meditation studying talisman arts and thunder magic. At year's end, as agreed, he descended to deliver New Year paintings to Miao villages—this was his second crossing of the Gan River.

That time, he saw a hint of white sand emerging from the river, but only a tiny patch.

His third crossing came after his Core Formation, when he went to the Haoran Alliance for a mission, leading a group to rescue Hongmu Ridge in Miao territory; but that time, with so many people flying swiftly through the air, he never noticed any change in the river's central sandbank.

Yet now, on this fourth crossing, twenty years had passed since he first saw the sandbank—and it had grown from a mere speck of white sand into a white dragon lying across the river, its spine nearly level with the walls of nearby Nanchang!

Twenty years flashed by; Cheng Cheng Xinzhan felt the weight of seas turning to mulberry fields. Yet he was puzzled: this sandbank was so pure and white—could there be a white stone mountain upstream in the Gan River?

"Boom—"

It was a clear summer sky when suddenly, thunder cracked!

In an instant, dark clouds gathered, and fierce winds surged.

Summer thunderstorms arrive without warning.

Fishermen on the river, anglers on the shore, travelers on both banks, and peddlers, seeing the storm imminent, abandoned their worship of the immortals and scrambled for shelter beneath Nanchang City or the nearest river-spanning bridge.

Here, one must speak of this bridge that served Nanchang City and nearby villages.

The Gan River's width here exceeds five li—impossible for mortals to build such a crossing. This bridge is an immortal feat, constructed by disciples of Wanshou Palace—both reasonable and unsurprising.

Three Clear Mountains' Yingyuan Mansion catalogues spring thunder each year to prevent evil spirits from arising; Long Hu Mountain sends disciples down to distribute talisman water for healing. As the foremost Daoist sect in water arts, Wanshou Palace naturally dispatches disciples annually to subdue monsters and build bridges.

Even the fierce Shu Daoist sect, holding the belief that "those not of our kind must have different hearts," eager to duel and seize treasures daily, nearly exterminating all heretical Daoists, demons, and dragon spirits in Shu, had never been heard of mistreating mortals. On the contrary, when mortals ascended the mountain to report ghostly harms, Shu disciples would drop everything and descend without hesitation to expel the evils.

How could a true orthodox sect claim to serve the people if it did not bring them fortune?

Wanshou Palace disciples built many bridges over the Gan River; this ancient bridge upstream of the dragon-shaped sandbank is the oldest they ever constructed, linking Xishan and Nanchang, named Shouchang Bridge—its meaning is profoundly auspicious.

Now, this thousand-year-old bridge still serves the people; many have taken shelter beneath it on both riverbanks, fleeing the sudden downpour.

Rain pours down; mist rises over the river's surface; the dragon-shaped sandbank flickers in and out of view, resembling a true white-scaled dragon.

In moments, the summer rain swells until heaven and earth blur into mist, the waters and sky merging, the only sound the thundering waves crashing against the banks, trees and grass thrashing wildly.

The Three Clear Mountains' immortal procession fears neither wind nor rain; the entire entourage forms a single talisman array, now radiating five-colored magical light, keeping wind and rain at bay.

"Stop!"

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan suddenly called out.

Hearing the Master of the Ten Thousand Methods speak, the procession obeyed, halting directly above the center of the five-li Gan River, atop the dragon-shaped sandbank.

"What's wrong, Cheng Xinzhan?"

Huo Huo Jingyan asked.

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan's fingers traced calculations within his robe sleeve as he replied,

"Master Dong, Dean, I see this summer flood's rainfall is immense—it may trigger a catastrophic flood. The rain came suddenly, and many civilians still shelter beneath the bridge. I fear rising waters may sweep people away or inundate both banks, devastating Nanchang. Might we pause briefly? If disaster strikes, we can act swiftly."

Huo Huo Jingyan frowned; he knew Cheng Cheng Xinzhan's thunder arts well—his rain-summoning spell at the Long Hu Assembly had stunned all present, summoning exactly the number of drops requested. If he now warned of flood danger, it likely would come.

Knowing harm might strike, with many mortals nearby and a great city at hand, they could not ignore it. Yet the scripture quest was vital—if they delayed, it would be a grave breach of propriety, especially for the Jingming Sect, which prized ritual above all. This was a dilemma.

"As Cheng Xinzhan says. We wait here."

Dong Dong Shouren spoke, adding, "There is cause for this. I believe Wanshou Palace will not blame us."

Thus, the scripture quest procession halted above the Gan River.

The civilians sheltering beneath Shouchang Bridge, watching the water rise and the rain show no sign of ceasing, grew fearful. But then someone noticed the immortals above had stopped directly over the river, gazing down—and realized they were guarding them. Their panic vanished, their worries dissolved.

Those trailing the procession to watch the spectacle also halted. At first puzzled, they flew closer, saw the people sheltering beneath the bridge, and understood the Three Clear Mountains' intent—then praised them in unison.

Thus, the tale of "Stopping to Observe the Water" took shape, passed mouth to mouth in admiration.

————

While the Three Clear Mountains' scripture quest procession paused above the Gan River, the Jingming Ancestral Temple on the river's western bank was also veiled in summer rain.

Xishan, also called San Yuan Mountain, was Xu Tian Shi's Daoist seat, its scenery naturally exquisite.

San Yuan Mountain runs north-south, stretching hundreds of li, its peaks graceful, streams winding, valleys deep. Now, though rain poured from the sky, upon San Yuan Mountain it softened to a misty drizzle, veiling the peaks in mist.

As the saying goes: verdant, secluded, elegant, wondrous—all gathered here, that is San Yuan Mountain.

Outside San Yuan Mountain, Wanshou Palace had already raised its own immortal procession to welcome them: nine phoenixes, each with wings exceeding ten zhang, soared and danced in the air, their forty-to-fifty-zhang tails like nine rainbows suspended across the heavens.

A golden path of lotus flowers stretched from within San Yuan Mountain to its outer edge, like a golden bridge hanging in the sky, with fish and dragon illusions leaping beside it.

The nine phoenixes greeting guests and fish-dragons leaping over gold clearly showed Jingming Sect's high regard for this scripture quest from Three Clear Mountains.

Now, upon the golden lotus path, the Jingming hosts awaited.

Among them, Shen Shen Zhaoming had already spotted the Three Clear Mountains' sacred statues in the distance; celestial music drifted from the east—he was eagerly awaiting—when suddenly, rain fell from heaven, and the scripture procession halted.

Shen Shen Zhaoming grew anxious and activated his Dharma Eye—not the third eye on his brow, but his pupil-based technique. Seeing the river rising and people sheltering beneath the bridge, he immediately guessed why the Three Clear Mountains had stopped.

He turned to those beside him and asked,

"Master, it is summer flood season, yet sudden rain has fallen. Should we send disciples along the river to inspect and prevent flooding? Should we go to meet the Three Clear Mountains' Daoist companions?"

Shen Shen Zhaoming's master was a middle-aged Daoist, dignified in bearing and attire, though his expression was stern. All the welcoming crowd stood behind him—he clearly held high rank in Wanshou Palace.

He gazed at the rain and said,

"Though it is flood season, today's date was chosen by the Imperial Astronomical Bureau. Last night, I studied the star charts and dew patterns—there should have been no rain."

Shen Shen Zhaoming immediately feared the worst: "Could someone have altered the celestial timing to trigger a flood and drown Nanchang? Or perhaps someone wishes to prevent Wanshou Palace from befriending Three Clear Mountains, deliberately delaying the scripture quest?"

Daoist Liang Yuan chuckled at his disciple's speculation and said,

"This is Yu Zhang, not the southern wilderness, and under Wanshou Palace's very gaze—who would dare? I have examined it: this rain is purely Heaven's will, no human magic involved. It is an anomaly beyond celestial calculation."

Shen Shen Zhaoming nodded. "Then what do we do?"

Daoist Liang Yuan turned and gave brief instructions to those beside him, then replied to Shen Shen Zhaoming,

"Flood prevention is necessary—I've already alerted our Flood Control Bureau brethren to prepare. But we need not move yet. Heaven's sudden rain must have purpose; perhaps it is a trial for the scripture quest. Let us wait and observe."

Though worried for his friend, Shen Shen Zhaoming found his master's words sound and so waited.

————

Wind howled; the rain grew heavier, showing no sign of abating.

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan's face grew grim: the rising water forced those sheltering beneath the bridge to scramble higher toward its foundations.

"Boom—"

Another thunderous crash—but this time, the sound came not from the sky, but from the earth. Cheng Cheng Xinzhan's expression changed drastically as he turned upstream. Even through the downpour, he saw a vast cloud of dust rising there.

The riverbanks upstream had collapsed!

Immediately, floodwaters surged like a dragon, waves towering like mountains, rushing downstream in a mighty torrent.

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan shot forward like an arrow released from a bow, leaving the procession, racing upstream.

"Save them."

Dong Dong Shouren spoke briefly.

All disciples in the procession, including Huo Huo Jingyan, moved at once—leaving banners, instruments, and scripture palanquins suspended in place, they flew to both riverbanks, snatching up panicked civilians and carrying them away from the river, using spiritual power to deliver them to the walls of Nanchang City.

Dong Dong Shouren remained stationed with the procession, guarding the Three Clear Mountains' sacred statues without moving, his attention fixed entirely on Cheng Cheng Xinzhan, ready to act at any moment. At this moment, his thoughts aligned with Daoist Liang Yuan's.

Perhaps this uncalculated rain was the Dharma trial for the scripture quest—perhaps it was Xu Tian Shi's will, meant for Cheng Xinzhan to bear.

Yet Cheng Cheng Xinzhan was not thinking deeply—he saw the rain trigger landslides and flash floods, so he rushed forward immediately. That was all.

Only after rushing out did he recall: though he had recently used his Shuang Ling Primordial Spirit to journey through Xiangxi at night, retrieving his Lotus Body, Long Hu Golden Core, and all treasures, today he had deliberately descended in his physical body to greet the scriptures out of respect.

Yet his body still carried unabsorbed tribulation lightning; his spiritual power flowed sluggishly. Merely flying through the air was difficult; wielding great power to halt the flood was beyond his capacity. Even his current magic treasures were still being refined by tribulation energy and could not be used.

At this moment, he glanced down at the scepter in his hand.

Perhaps only this one could be used.

Green and yellow, water and fire in harmony, shaped like Long and Hu—he knew at once this was the Sect Master's personal gift to him.

Since fate has brought this day, let it be the day you quell the flood!

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan thought this, then activated his Golden Core, drawing forth Rain Gang and Earth Sha energy into the Long Hu Jade Scepter, forming the Five Peaks Seal with his fingers, sensing spiritual resonance, and chanting:

"Earth Sha transforms into a dragon, Kun Yuan as its form;

Mystic Water births a tiger, Kan Qi awakens its spirit;

Dragon calms the nine abysses, Tiger seizes the vast seas;

Xuan Huang interpenetrate, mountains and seas may be leveled;

Command: subdue the flood peak—swiftly, as per the Five Peaks and Four Rivers Decree!"

As the incantation ended, the Long Hu Jade Scepter dissolved into two orbs of spiritual light, taking the forms of dragon and tiger, rushing toward the flood. As they flew, their shapes shifted: the yellow dragon became a mountain peak, pressing down the flood crest; the green tiger became a surge of water, flowing upstream.

When dragon and tiger met the flood, it was not as onlookers expected—neither did the dragon and tiger shatter the waves, nor did the waves crush them. Instead, they flowed like fish into the flood, transforming into Yin and Yang energies that rotated slowly, dissolving the flood's force as it carved through mountains and rivers.

Simultaneously, the yellow dragon guided stones and gravel to settle swiftly; the green tiger directed clear river water to flow gently downstream.

Let him be strong—he is strong; the clear wind brushes the mountain ridge. Let him be fierce—he is fierce; the bright moon shines upon the great river.

Yin and yang complement each other, separating and drawing—Cheng Cheng Xinzhan has invoked the true meaning of Taiji of the True Warrior.

As the yellow dragon and green tiger steadily retreated in harmony, the floodwaters gradually dissipated; by the time they reached Shouchang Bridge, the water level had ceased rising.

To prevent excessive rocks and gravel from accumulating on the riverbed and forming a suspended river, Cheng Cheng Xinzhan used the yellow dragon to draw all these snow-white rocks and gravel to Longxing Sandbank in the river's center, compacting them with the Earth's Mysterious Yellow Qi, turning the riverbank sandbank into a snowy mountain in the river's heart.

From now on, even if the Ganjiang River floods again, when the flood peak reaches near Nanchang City, it will be blocked by this mountain, splitting the floodwaters in two, turning the violent current into a gentle flow and giving those downstream time to escape.

At this moment, the yellow dragon coiled atop the riverheart snow mountain, its peak higher than the walls of Nanchang City by the riverbank.

Cheng Cheng Xinzhan exhaled a sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, outside San Yuan Mountain, Daoist Daoist Liang Yuan, who had witnessed all this with his own eyes, trembled uncontrollably, repeating over and over:

"So that's how it is! So that's how it is! So that's how it is!"

Shen Shen Zhaoming did not understand—his brother's skill was indeed extraordinary, but it should not have caused his master to lose composure like this?

At that very moment, a voice echoed across San Yuan Mountain, dispersing the dark clouds above; the voice was supremely majestic, and Shen Shen Zhaoming recognized it at once as the voice of Sect Master Bao Yuan True Person—but today was not like any other day, for this majestic voice carried an unmistakable joy.

"Open the mountain gate wide! All disciples above the Third Realm, follow me out to welcome our guest!"

(End of Chapter)