Chapter 89: Arriving at Shore, Meeting an Acquaintance

“W-where are those two martial artists?”

The scholar pointed at the water, asking in stunned uncertainty.

“Wait a bit.”

Third Master seemed utterly unafraid; he simply sat by the boat’s edge, slowly wringing out his clothes, wiping the water from his hair, and waiting for those two martial artists.

But how could they possibly wait for them?

Though Third Master’s battle with the water spirit hadn’t lasted long, it had been nearly fifteen minutes—if those two were still alive and could float, they’d have surfaced by now.

Meanwhile, the boatman began to speak:

“This river is called Wei Shui.”

“You gentlemen are all outsiders, so you may not have heard—but here, there are two versions:

“One says that in ancient times, perhaps during the previous dynasty or even earlier, the river’s deity was a jiao dragon—maybe not even a deity, but whoever controlled all matters along this river. There’s still a temple for him on the shore today.

“We also have a Swallow Spirit, who was friends with the jiao dragon, so all swallows are protected by him. Anyone traveling by water must never eat swallows.

“All the water spirits here were once the jiao dragon’s subordinates. If you eat a swallow, your body absorbs its qi, and when you ride a boat, it will stir up windless waves and capsize you.

“The other version says the jiao dragon loves to eat swallows. If a person eats one, they too absorb its qi, and when traveling by water, they’ll attract the jiao dragon’s attack.

“…”

The scholar listened with wide-eyed wonder.

Lin Jue and the Younger Sister also found it strange.

The fox lay curled at their feet, yawning.

Only Third Master busied himself wringing out his clothes, occasionally dripping water into the river, making soft splashes.

“That water spirit just now wasn’t a jiao dragon, nor was it a tuo dragon—it looked more like a catfish that grew into a spirit.” Lin Jue mused, “The first version seems more plausible.”

“Who can say for sure?” Third Master shook his head. “The world is vast—anything is possible.”

“Then what do we do now?” the scholar couldn’t help asking. “Can we still travel by water?”

“How should I know?”

The boatman turned to look at the three Daoists.

“We’ve come this far—we must take the water route. What else can we do? If we don’t take this boat, switching to another still means traveling by water. And we didn’t eat any swallows.” Third Master said indifferently; he felt most of the water had been wrung from his body, so he stood, picked up his sword, and walked toward the cabin, asking as he went, “How long until we leave Wei Shui?”

“If you’re heading to Yuanzhou, it won’t be long. A few dozen li ahead, it merges into another great river—then it’s no longer Wei Shui, and in ancient times, it wouldn’t have been under the jiao dragon’s jurisdiction.”

“Perfect!”

“So the Daoist means… keep going forward?”

“Aren’t we going back a ways too?”

Third Master walked out again, set down his sword, and replaced it with a wine gourd, tilting his head to drink.

“This…”

“Isn’t that right?”

“But… those two guests…”

“Did they pay you?”

“They did.”

“Then that’s settled!” Third Master said calmly, smiling at his two junior disciples. “Martial artists are clever. We’ve waited this long and they haven’t shown up—if they’re still alive, they’ve probably hidden in some reeds or snuck ashore somewhere. Just toss their belongings onto land. No need to wait any longer.”

“…”

The boatman dared not reply.

Lin Jue said nothing either.

In truth, from the moment those two fell in, he could tell they weren’t strong swimmers at all—chances of survival were extremely low. Still, he accepted his senior brother’s gentle care without protest.

The sail rose, and the boat rode the wind.

The water surface now stretched emerald-green, deep and calm, the bloodstains faded and left far behind—earlier dangers seemed never to have happened.

Only Third Master, soaked and damp; the scholar, shivering; and the boatman, trembling as he steered while staring at the distant water—these were the only signs that what had just occurred was real.

“Why did you take out the pills and herbs?”

“Senior brother saw things turning bad and told me to bring them out,” the Younger Sister replied. “He raised the sail and used his wind spell to push the boat toward shore, telling me to toss them onto land as soon as we got close.”

“Good job, you two!”

Third Master was genuinely surprised: “How long have you been on the mountain? To fight a spirit alongside me is one thing—but in such a dire moment, amid battle, you still had the presence of mind to think of this!”

“It was all Senior Brother’s idea.”

“Don’t be modest—if your other senior brothers were here, they might not have done better.”

This was mainly directed at the Younger Sister.

He was truly astonished by her, above all.

Lin Jue—he knew well. Before leaving home, he’d dared spend the night in a demon temple, speak face-to-face with demons, trade a monkey demon’s head for a bounty, steal travel money from ghosts, and even join others to confront a tree spirit haunting a house. After joining the mountain, he’d fought countless demons and demon beasts alongside him. He knew his junior brother’s courage and skill well.

But he never expected the Younger Sister to be so unflustered.

“Don’t underestimate her,” Lin Jue said calmly, sitting beside her. He’d been thinking about the sensation of the water column brushing his cheek, pondering the spells from ancient texts, but now he spoke: “Last year, when we first encountered the rat demon in the temple, she beat off a whole group with her staff. This year during the Lantern Festival, when we were ambushed by that warrior, she helped me—without her, we might not have won.”

“Really? I thought she was just naturally gifted with the sword.”

“She’s got nerves of steel,” Lin Jue said. “She’s fallen off mountains gathering herbs several times—did any of you ever hear about one of those?”

“Fallen off several times?”

Third Master turned to look at the Younger Sister.

She sat motionless, eyes downcast, nose to chin, as if stunned—silent, unresponsive—this was her strategy.

If she didn’t hear, she wouldn’t feel embarrassed.

Lin Jue smiled and said no more.

In truth, to him, what was rare about her wasn’t just her courage—she was fearless yet never reckless. She knew exactly what to do: like that snowy night earlier this year, she worked hard to help him, yet never stepped forward. Had she done so, it would’ve backfired—hence why defeating that warrior was so effortless.

The three Daoists chatted casually, while the scholar and boatman were terrified.

Outside, the emerald waves still shimmered; green mountains cast shadows on both sides; the boat glided through, and before they knew it, they’d left Wei Shui.

“Don’t be afraid, friend,” Third Master called to the scholar. “It was just a water spirit—what’s the difference from a big fish? Let’s drink together as before, feel the river wind, and talk of wonders across the four seas—wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

The scholar replied nervously.

Lin Jue went back onto the deck to feel the breeze.

The Younger Sister and the fox followed him.

Around them, layered peaks rose; homes lined the riverbank; unnoticed, dusk fell. Smoke from cooking fires hung along the mountain slopes, forming a continuous line, with occasional lantern lights reflected in the water.

The boat had reached shore.

There was no dock—only a rope tied to a tree on land. Smoke rose from the boat too.

Third Master indeed chatted merrily with the scholar. Lin Jue held a fishing rod, line dangling into the water. The boatman boiled porridge at the stern—it would be their dinner tonight.

Today was truly a good day.

Even after dark, the sky remained deep blue; the mountains by the lake became silhouettes, mirrored in the river.

One of those two martial artists had said something right—

This boat was too cramped for six people.

Sitting wasn’t bad, but spending the night? Too cramped.

Now four people was just right.

After dinner, Third Master, the boatman, and the scholar slept in the cabin. Lin Jue, unbothered by the cold, found the outside cool and lay on the wooden planks at the bow. The Younger Sister didn’t want to squeeze into the cabin with the three, so she lay half-reclined beside him, both staring at the night sky.

The river breeze kept blowing; the water rippled gently, rocking the boat softly—not terrifying like daytime, just lulling them to sleep, their eyes filled with countless stars.

The stars were also reflected on the river’s surface.

Fuyao lay beside Lin Jue, her fluffy tail swaying slowly, silent, lost in thought.

Lately, there had been little wind; the journey had been smooth.

Each day they fished and cast nets, catching fish and shrimp for meals. Sometimes, passing busy docks with many merchants, they bought fruit, steamed buns, local specialties—even wine.

Often they sat by the boat’s edge, letting the wind push them along, drinking wine and fishing, chatting and laughing, fish beside them, wine beside them.

On the great river, water traffic surged visibly—boats of all kinds: skiffs, covered boats, fishing boats, even luxurious pavilion ships, troop transports, horse carriers.

Almost every dock along the river had a temple—some large, some small. The biggest were palace-temples; the smallest, shrines barely taller than a person. Clearly, the court valued river transport greatly, and celestial and earthly spirits enforced their jurisdiction more strictly here—no more demons appeared.

…

Ten days passed quickly.

The boat gradually neared shore.

Voices still drifted from aboard.

“These days, from the imperial court down to the wilds, if it’s not a demon man, it’s a demon beast—nowhere is safe. The world seems on the verge of collapse, and even immortals and sages may not save it.”

“I cannot agree with you, friend. An ancient saying goes: the righteousness of gods cannot be harmed by demons; the transformations of all things cannot be stopped by the Dao. Though demons and ghosts grow more numerous today, and I’ve heard court affairs are indeed growing murkier, as you say, to claim the world will collapse because of this is impossible.”

Third Master shook his head:

“History rolls forward; the world changes constantly; dynasties rise and fall—that’s the law. The world’s transformations truly cannot be halted by Daoists with spells or celestial immortals. But to judge the world’s fate by temporary ups and downs is far too narrow.”

The two didn’t say what else.

Lin Jue listened silently, gazing into the distance.

The fox joined him, lifting its head to look far ahead.

Ahead lay a sizable dock, where many boats were docking. From large vessels stepped officials and nobles; from smaller boats poured common folk, and many varied martial artists. One boat disgorged a group of Daoists—all with unsteady steps or pained expressions, leaning on each other for support.

They must be from the Talisman Sect.

“We’ve reached shore!”

The boatman also sighed in relief and said to Lin Jue, the junior sister on the deck, and the third senior brother in the cabin: “From here, you land at Weng County; after passing Weng County, you’ll reach Mingchou Mountain soon.”

The third senior brother also fell silent from his idle chatter.

“Our meeting was brief—it seems the time for parting has finally come,” the third senior brother said, lifting the wine cup on the table with a smile. “Each of us flies far apart; let us drain our cups.”

“If fate allows, I will surely come to Yishan to pay my respects to all the Daoist masters, and behold the scenery of Yishan.”

“That would be excellent.”

The third senior brother spoke thus, yet showed no trace of reluctance; he rose, seized his satchel, and walked out.

The donkey stepped ashore; the satchel stepped ashore.

The three men and the fox stood on the shore, gazing at the departing boat.

The scholar still had a journey ahead, so he stood at the bow, maintaining his bowing posture, seeing them off.

The third senior brother smiled, turned back, and returned the bow—then never looked back again, instead turning his gaze to the vendors on the shore carrying loads, and to the Daoists who had landed just slightly ahead of them.

As it happened, they were familiar faces.

They were the Daoists from Qiyun Mountain.