Chapter 703: The Dragon Vein Corrodes, the Master Emerges

The bizarre scene before them left Pei Zongti and Bai Chenshan frozen in place.

Confucianism emphasizes “investigating things to exhaust their principles,” grasping phenomena to attain knowledge.

The Earth Master lineage focuses on observing forms and energies, discerning the qi of auspicious and inauspicious forces, and tracing the course of dragon veins.

Yet all their knowledge failed to explain the sight before them.

Moreover, gazing for too long caused their yin souls to grow dizzy.

The Lu Chuan Prince, who had seen more in his life, was the first to recover, his voice low: “Inside Chongwen Gate, isn’t it?”

Pei Zongti closed his eyes and nodded: “Yes, just past that merchant street.”

Upon hearing this, the Lu Chuan Prince immediately raised his jade gui high.

In an instant, a furious wind swept the three forward.

Unlike Li Yan, who had to wait, their yin souls flew directly over the top of Chongwen Gate.

In a flash, they saw the endless, looping merchant caravans on the street.

Another blur, and they beheld the place where the peach tree and the fearsome Queen Mother statue were once enshrined.

Now, it lay in ruins.

The ancient city walls were riddled with holes left by giant tree roots; whenever wind and sand blew, the walls repaired themselves.

But moments later, those holes filled with black mist and reappeared.

The altar that once housed the Queen Mother’s stone statue had vanished entirely, leaving only a massive, obsidian-black pit.

“There’s definitely a problem!”

The Lu Chuan Prince, who had been calm moments ago, now wore a face full of shock: “What dark art did they use to damage this secret realm?”

Seeing their confusion, he stammered: “This has never happened before—come with me quickly!”

Without another word, he raised his jade gui again.

Their yin souls swiftly drifted deeper into the “Nine Gates Yin Ruins.”

The space within was layered, overlapping, surreal.

Even ancient scenes of early tribes hunting appeared.

Thousands of years’ worth of temporal fragments seemed twisted together, making Pei Zongti and Bai Chenshan tremble with dread.

Another blur, and the three arrived in another space.

This place was a perfect replica of the Grand Temple altar, complete with all the rites of the Grand Sacrifice, and every jade artifact floated suspended in midair.

Even Pei Zongti, well-traveled and well-read, swallowed hard.

He saw ritual vessels from the Shang and Zhou dynasties, sacrificial objects from the Tang and Song—each a national relic of its era.

Any single one of these, taken outside, would spark bloody battles among the Mystic Sects.

Yet here, they were treated like worthless trinkets, scattered everywhere.

Of course, Pei Zongti dared not touch anything.

He could tell these sacrificial vessels floated not uselessly, but to sustain this peculiar space.

As for Bai Chenshan, he adjusted his glasses, gazing left and right, utterly entranced.

“Gentlemen.”

The Lu Chuan Prince spoke solemnly: “This is the most vital secret of Great Xuan.”

“The national sacrificial artifacts here were seized when we crushed the Da Xing Dynasty and the Golden Yurt Wolf State, used to construct this place—none may be moved. Unless something went wrong, no one would ever be allowed inside. After you leave, you must speak of this with utmost caution.”

With that, he raised the sacrificial artifact again and chanted the “Great Xuan Prayer to Heaven and Earth.”

The national sacrificial artifacts of every dynasty began to rotate; clouds and mist churned in the air, light and shadow swirling.

Amid the swirling mist, a dragon’s shadow writhed, growing ever larger.

Only then did they realize the dragon’s form was composed of the shadows of mountain ranges.

The Kunlun ancestral vein, the towering Taohua, the nine bends of the Yellow River, the surging Yangtze…

The spiritual essence of all famous mountains, rivers, and waterways wove together in the void, forming a colossal dragon spanning heaven and earth, its head and tail lost to sight.

If Li Yan were here, he would recognize it as the Great Xuan Dragon Vein—the spiritual projection within the astral layer.

“This is…”

Bai Chenshan nearly pulled out his beard.

“This is the Great Xuan Dragon Vein.”

The Lu Chuan Prince explained: “The previous Da Xing Dynasty and the Golden Yurt Wolf State faced each other across the river, both deploying masters to lay out their own dragon veins. When Great Xuan rose, they secretly tampered with the veins. It was Master Sanfeng himself who finally connected the northern and southern dragon veins.”

“But Master Sanfeng was a celestial exile, his Dao profound—no one today can understand his methods.”

“The Emperor sent you here to check whether the Dragon Vein is damaged.”

He did not say it aloud, but if such a thing had happened, even he could no longer be trusted.

Though neither understood the arrangement, they carefully searched.

Soon, they found the anomaly.

The phantom dragon, formed of mountain and river essence, showed dark-red, corrupting miasma near its waist, close to the capital.

Like rotting mold, it was growing and spreading from the heart of the Imperial City.

Even a fool could see it.

“It’s definitely gone wrong!”

Bai Chenshan glanced around, stroked his beard, and frowned: “Though I don’t fully understand, I can tell this place connects to the Grand Temple’s national sacrifice array, maintained by sacrificial artifacts and sustained by incense offerings. Logically, when something went wrong, the outside should have sensed it…”

The Lu Chuan Prince’s face darkened, his chest heaving; he closed his eyes: “There’s a traitor in the Imperial Clan Court helping the demons conceal this.”

This was the very scenario he feared most.

With this happening, the Emperor will surely purge the Imperial Clan Court.

Even though he was utterly loyal to the Emperor, he did not wish to see this.

Pei Zongti, ever shrewd, sensed the tension and quickly changed the subject: “Let’s record the location of the damage—the Emperor is waiting.”

The three fell silent, staring intently at the decaying zones, calculating their positions…

…………

Inside the Grand Temple Hall, the atmosphere was equally heavy.

The royal sorcerers of the Imperial Clan Court held sacrificial artifacts, maintaining the array, all heads bowed in silence.

Each felt deep unease.

If nothing were wrong, all would be fine—but if something truly had gone awry, a storm would descend.

One sorcerer, in particular, sweated profusely, his eyes slowly turning bloodshot.

In the secret realm, Pei Zongti suddenly felt a chill.

In the Grand Temple Hall, that same sorcerer abruptly raised his hand, smashing his sacrificial artifact to the ground, then leapt forward and slapped his palm toward Pei Zongti’s head.

“Xiao Bojin, what are you doing?!”

The other sorcerers panicked.

But the royal sorcerer paid them no heed—his eyes blazed with murderous intent.

Shhh!

At that moment, from the darkness of the hall, a figure appeared like a ghost, arriving as swiftly as blue smoke.

It was Zhao Wujiu, the Grand Eunuch of the Office of Ceremonial.

His gaze was cold; though he moved after, he arrived first, raising his hand to block above Pei Zongti’s head, then twisting backward.

Crack-crack-crack~

A crisp sound of bone breaking echoed—the sorcerer’s arm was torn clean off.

Before he could cry out, Zhao Wujiu seized his head.

Boom!

A light tremor—and the sorcerer collapsed, unconscious.

Zhao Wujiu glanced indifferently: “Whose man is this?”

A yellow-robed sorcerer swallowed hard: “He belongs to General Xiao Huainan’s household.”

In Great Xuan’s enfeoffment system, princes and commandery princes inherit their titles perpetually.

Each generation must have one son inherit the original title, with a major city as their fief.

They are the Emperor’s primary targets for reducing power—step by step, their military authority and local governance are stripped away.

As for the remaining descendants of commandery princes who are not heirs, their titles degrade generation by generation.

For example, a son may be a Garrison General, his grandson an Assistant General, down to the rank of Fengguo Zhongwei.

And Fengguo General is one such rank—not an actual military command.

Xiao Huainan was the tall, thin old man who had blocked them that day.

“It’s definitely him—he was the one who stopped us from investigating that day!” The short, stout old man standing outside the array, trembling with fear, immediately began shifting blame.

“Xiao Huainan…”

Grand Eunuch Zhao Wujiu pondered: “The Changliu Prince, isn’t he? Seems he still bears a grudge.”

At these words, many in the hall lowered their heads, refusing to speak.

The Changliu Prince was Emperor Xiao Qixuan’s sixth brother.

He lost the succession struggle, was placed under house arrest, and died in gloom; his descendants were stripped of their titles.

Who would have thought he had allied himself with demons?

The news quickly reached the outside of the Grand Temple.

Emperor Xiao Qixuan’s eyes grew cold. “Don’t let a single one escape!”

“As Your Majesty commands!”

Jiao Wanbao, Grand General of the Jinwu Guard, immediately bowed and departed.

At the same time, the three men inside the hall also awoke.

“Puh—!”

Pei Zongti opened his eyes first, spitting out a small mouthful of blood, his voice trembling: “The Imperial Ancestral Temple has been tampered with—investigate the ritual vessels.”

In fact, no one needed him to say it; all had already seen.

As the sorcerer had shattered his jade artifact, several of the ancestral spirit tablets enshrined above the temple immediately cracked, their lacquer peeling away.

“Good… good a pillar of the imperial clan!”

Emperor Xiao Qixuan also entered, taking in the scene before him.

His voice was low, yet each word cut like a blade, heavy with bitter hatred and disappointment.

“Issue the edict!”

“The Grand Sacrificial Priest, the Commandant’s Office, and the Imperial Clan Office shall thoroughly investigate Xiao Huainan’s residence, his close associates, and all his past movements!”

“All persons connected shall be arrested without exception!”

“Order the three Grand Masters to immediately surround and kill the demon! I don’t care if they’re in seclusion or wandering the lands—before sunrise, they must purge the demonic aura from the capital!”

“Pei Qing, take my tiger tally and mobilize the elite of the Firearm Battalion to seal off the streets linked to the clues!”

“Within a three-li radius, allow entry but no exit! Kill any demon on sight!”

“As Your Majesty commands!”

A chilling aura instantly enveloped the inside and outside of the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

Beneath the cold moonlight, deep within the imperial palace, dormant forces began to stir.

…………

Dawn broke, slanting morning light falling on the rooftops.

“This is delicious—bring another plate!”

Inside the Rouyuan Inn, Li Yan and the others were eating.

They knew the innkeeper was likely monitoring them; after last night’s events, leaving would be far more difficult.

But no matter what, the food at Rouyuan Inn was undeniably flavorful.

Thick, stewed liver filled a celadon bowl, its garlic-thickened sauce clinging to quivering pork liver and intestines, steaming with salty, savory vapor;

Bamboo steamers held golden chestnut-flour buns, beside them milky-white yam rolls revealing dark red bean paste patterns;

Rough earthen plates held crisp, fried dough rings, dipped into sesame paste stirred with boiling water, paired with a spoonful of glistening golden-red pickled vegetables…

Though simple, each dish exuded refinement.

Everyone, sleepless and ravenous, devoured everything, leaving the table littered with empty plates.

“So fragrant—save some for this young master…”

The side room door creaked open; Kuai Dayou, now awake, stumbled out leaning against the wall, drawn by the scent.

The boy had a strong build; having just escaped danger, his appetite had returned fully.

He made no formalities, snatching a yam roll from Sha Lifei’s hand and shoving it into his mouth with the liver.

Li Yan waited calmly, wiping his hands with a towel and sipping hot tea.

Only when Kuai Dayou had finished eating, grimacing as he pressed his wounds, did he speak: “Just what’s going on with the Rabbit God?”

Perhaps in good spirits, Kuai Dayou no longer wore his usual insolent air; he picked his teeth with a bamboo skewer: “What else? I owed someone a favor.”

“I have a junior uncle whose young son fell ill; he sought the Rabbit God’s incense pouch to ward off ill fortune—and the boy recovered.”

“The temple priest asked me to forge Yin Soldiers made of monkey fur to guard the altar—I gave in out of pity, and ever since, I’ve been stuck with it…”

“The Rabbit God receives the incense of common folk and must guide the souls of dead children—I had no choice but to help…”

Li Yan mused: “You didn’t know what was inside?”

“No.”

Kuai Dayou shook his head: “I only set up the altar. Once inside, the Rabbit God took command. Had I known it would bring such trouble, I’d have prepared something.”

Li Yan narrowed his eyes. “Who is the Rabbit God’s temple priest?”

The Rabbit God was a folk deity, widely worshipped in the capital, highly potent.

Guiding the souls of those dead children was one thing—but to intervene outside and save him? Someone must have ordered it.

“An old man, calls himself Wu Mingshi.”

Kuai Dayou spat through his teeth: “He’s the one who ordered the monkey fur soldiers too—damn it, he tricked this young master—I won’t let him off easy!”

“Wu Mingshi…”

Li Yan frowned slightly, suddenly recalling the “Old Ghost of the Capital.”

Just as he was about to press further, Luo Mingzi arrived in haste, his voice grave: “It’s confirmed—there’s trouble.”

“Word is the Imperial Ancestral Temple was desecrated; His Majesty is furious and has ordered a full-scale hunt for Kong Hui and Zhao Qingxu.”

“It’s not that simple!”

Sha Lifei sneered: “Those two are elusive—hard to even find them.”

Luo Mingzi shook his head quickly: “This time it’s different. Their network in the capital has been exposed. Several National Masters will act, using Daoist divination to pinpoint their location. Li Yan, you should come with me—we’ll summon the Yin Bureaucracy’s troops to crush them.”

Li Yan frowned. “They have artifacts—Yin troops won’t catch them.”

“Don’t worry.” Luo Mingzi looked outside.

“The capital’s three Grand Masters are all moving. You’ll get to witness it firsthand.”

“What?!”

At this, everyone rose at once.

…………

The imperial edict exploded like thunder through the Forbidden City, yet when it reached three quiet retreats within the capital, it stirred only ripples in deep pools.

Outside the palace, deep in a southwest alley, a three-hall Sihe Academy had a modest facade.

Its faded vermilion gate bore bronze nails the size of bowls.

Above the lintel hung a blackwood plaque, carved with the characters “Zhi Ge.”

The front courtyard’s blue bricks gleamed like a mirror; a half-dead ancient locust tree leaned against the old wall, its shade falling over a large fish tank where carp drifted.

In the courtyard, a man knelt on the ground.

His frame was massive as a reef; a fearsome ship’s anchor tattoo snaked across his neck, his cheekbones high, a diagonal scar slicing from his left temple into his grizzled temple hair.

Anyone from the capital’s underworld would be stunned to see him.

This man was Luo Gongsheng, leader of the Iron Anchor Society—one of the capital’s three major gangs.

Yet now, this gang lord knelt with head bowed, hands raised high, holding a heavy, broken ship’s anchor—its tip pointed at his own chest—and croaked: “Master, your disciple has failed.”

“In the capital, every move is constrained—Wang She was placed by the Prince of Yan’s steward…”

He quickly corrected himself: “Of course, I bear responsibility for my negligence.”

In the shadow beneath the eaves, an elderly, burly man sat calmly in a master’s chair, sipping tea and reading.

Though aged, his hair white, his black short tunic revealed bronze-toned muscles, ribs like iron plates, tendons coiled like serpents—like a temple statue come to life.

As if absorbed in his book, his fingertip tapped lightly on the purple sandalwood armrest.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Though seemingly light, the sound echoed like a heavy drumbeat.

Leaves from the courtyard’s locust tree trembled and fell, making Luo Gongsheng’s brow bead with sweat that crawled like insects.

The man above was Huo Yin, one of the Ten Grand Masters of Shenzhou, and head of the Great Xuan Divine Fist Society.

(End of Chapter)