Chapter 991: The Nine Dragon Treasure Ship Enters the Dragon Abyss

The sixty-eight-year-old Wang Laoyezi stood on the Chao Pass floating bridge, all around empty, with only their party lighting firepans upon it.

Since that day the Red Mansion ghost ship crashed into this place, the bridge piers have been hung with ghost cash, and no one has dared walk this floating bridge at night since.

Wang Laoyezi wore a new white robe, his hair freshly cut, his sideburns shaved clean, as he fed golden paper into the firepans.

“The paper-zhao Wang’s craftsmanship is extraordinary—his golden paper is made from tallow tree bark, blended with dozens of aromatic herbs, forged by a secret method of nine thousand nine hundred hammer strikes, most efficacious; half of Zhigucheng buys its ghost paper from him, but the real stuff? He sells only to insiders. We who walk the yin path observe many rites, and ghosts don’t blame us for being thorough—better to have all our tools ready; who knows, it might save your life…”

“In past years, such a major ritual required the full set of three sacrificial animals and six ceremonial offerings!”

Wang Laoyezi mumbled on to the boy beside him, who wore a troubled expression: “Father!”

He called out loudly, then whispered: “That paper-zhao Wang is a rebel of the White Lotus Sect—his shop’s been sealed by the authorities! Speak softer, don’t let the Ya men hear you!”

Wang Laoyezi’s hand trembled; he smiled bitterly: “You’re right. You’ve inherited my incense, so you’ve kept a line for the Wang family. Let this yin-walking, demonic trade end with me.”

Wang Laoyezi carefully slipped off a pair of black cloth shoes, stepped barefoot onto the ground in new white socks, then tossed the two shoes upward.

The two shoes flipped over—one landed atop the other.

Wang Laoyezi blinked in surprise, picked them up, and threw them again. The same result appeared before him once more.

He tried three times—each time, identical. His hands trembled slightly.

The bespectacled Four-Eyes Daoist sighed, turning to whisper to Zhang Sanzhi: “In the south, we throw divination slips—one yin, one yang means the Sacred Cup, a sign the spirits agree. Does this mean the spirits disapprove of his yin-walking?”

Zhang Sanzhi’s expression was complex: “There’s a rule in yin-walking: when crossing over, the two shoes beneath the bed must be one up, one down. If both face up, the soul dies and never returns.”

Four-Eyes Daoist watched Wang Laoyezi, hands trembling, tossing the shoes again and again, his face filled with pity: “The spirits disapprove—this is a dire omen. Why force it?”

Zhang Sanzhi said nothing, only watched coldly as Wang Laoyezi, drenched in sweat, tossed the cloth shoes eighteen times in succession—each time, both landed face-up. Wang Laoyezi was hollow-eyed, his white hair soaked, the icy river wind unable to dry it.

He knelt shakily and bowed his head: “Ancestors above!”

“Unworthy descendant Wang Qiongsheng, childless widower, guilty of severing the ancestral bloodline! After death, I dare not face my forebears. Now, through others, I’ve reclaimed a scrap of bloodline, restoring the family’s continuity. I undertake this final yin journey at another’s request—not to beg for ancestral protection… only to ask you to witness: the Wang family has incense again! Qiongsheng’s death is trivial, but I beg you, ancestors, protect the Wang family’s incense line. If any future descendant, wise or foolish, fails to carry on the bloodline, or harms a Wang heir, even if I fall into the Nine Heavens of Darkness, I shall become a vengeful ghost to haunt them!”

As Wang Laoyezi spoke, his voice grew sharper, and those around him shuddered.

He threw the nineteenth shoe with finality—this time, one landed face-up, the other face-down. Wang Qiongsheng slammed his forehead hard onto the stone tile, blood staining it.

Zhang Sanzhi watched coldly, unmoved, until Wang Laoyezi picked up the Soul-Start Bell, donned the Human-Skin Robe, and lifted a white lantern. Behind him, the filial son led a six- or seven-year-old boy holding a small bundle.

The boy, timid, whispered: “Grandfather!”

Wang Laoyezi’s face softened slightly; he stroked his grandson’s head and ordered: “Bring out the Elder!”

The boy pulled from his bundle a porcelain doll, chubby and endearing, white porcelain body with black-painted eyebrows and eyes, its features rendered even colder under the pale glow of the nearby white lantern.

The doll’s lively, cute eyes now seemed strange, lifeless.

The red thread tied to the doll had turned black as ink—one end bound to the doll, the other carefully tied around Wang Laoyezi’s wrist.

“Light the lantern!”

Zhang Sanzhi gave a cold order. Instantly, lanterns flared along both banks of the canal.

Rows of white lanterns reflected on the water’s surface; the river rippled as if heavy cargo ships were cutting through, their wakes carving lines from afar—nine arrows piercing the still waters of the Southern Canal.

Disciples of the Canal Guild raised white hemp banners, as usual, guiding the water to lead the invisible yin-ship to dock.

“Unload!”

The Canal Guild disciples shouted. Bare-chested porters, each carrying heavy loads, marched forward—but when the wind blew back the black cloth covering one load, it revealed only paper-zhao gold, silver, jewels, carts, ships, horses, and pavilions.

Wang Laoyezi glanced once, then looked up in mild surprise.

Zhang Sanzhi nodded: “Old man, these are all gifts for your journey. The White Lotus Sect may be a powerful dragon, but we local snakes aren’t idle—this paper-zhao Wang? I shut down his shop. All thirty years of his ghost treasures are here.”

The porters carried their poles to the dock, one by one leaping into the river—no splash, no ripple—just sinking into the black water.

Something stirred beneath the river’s surface.

Two loads were set down: paper-zhao chickens, ducks, fish, meat, rattles, tiger-head caps, foreign picture cards, tiny clothes—each basket overflowing.

A single spark fell—and instantly, glowing phosphorescence rose. The entire load burst into flame; ash and incense smoke rained down.

Zhang Sanzhi exhaled a puff of ash, and on the Chao Pass floating bridge, child-sized shadows darted through the smoke; the empty river echoed with faint, distant children’s laughter.

Zhang Sanzhi swung a willow branch toward the night sky and shouted: “Clear the way!”

The willow branch cracked through the air like a whip.

The children’s laughter vanished. The entire Chao Pass floating bridge suddenly groaned and creaked.

Four giant roosters, their bodies glowing emerald-green and each the size of a child, had their wings bound and thrown into the river; as they flapped desperately on the surface, a monstrous unicorn-snake head, the size of a millstone, shot past beneath the water—its body black as cast iron.

The roosters flapped wildly, struggling to escape, but their bound wings kept them thrashing helplessly on the surface.

With a muffled thud, four massive shadows surged from beneath the bridge toward the roosters floating at the Three Forks River mouth. At that instant, the blood-herb fed to the roosters ignited—they tore free of their ropes and flew upward.

Four colossal serpent heads burst from the water. Beneath the Chao Pass floating bridge, a massive iron vessel shifted, splitting the bridge cleanly in half.

“The foreigners have their iron bridges—we have our ghost-and-god bridges!” Zhang Sanzhi’s eyes blazed as he roared at Wang Laoyezi: “The boat’s here—why delay?”

In the gap of the broken Chao Pass floating bridge, beneath the water, a colossal dragon-ship glided slowly past.

Behind it, a fleet stretched beyond sight.

On the prow stood a wealthy-looking squire in brocade robes, his face utterly pale, smiling as he bowed to the crowd.

Wang Laoyezi let out a hollow laugh, then toppled forward into the water.

As the Nine Dragon Fleet passed over the bridge, eighteen bare-chested porters leapt from both banks.

Four-Eyes Daoist leaned forward to look—he was a Daoist of Southern Maoshan, had transported corpse-kings for the imperial court, had seen every kind of demonic thing—but this one glance made his heart jolt.

The nine dragon-ships were unmistakable: complete with banners, ropes, masts, anchors, and flags, a proper vessel with clear lineage. Its hull was lacquered in tung oil, painted with an exquisitely embroidered dragon banner—every secret mark of the Canal Guild present. The crew was complete: guards, sailors, over a hundred men aboard.

At this point, even if Four-Eyes Daoist had only heard rumors, he should have recognized the Nine Dragon Treasure Ship.

It was plainly the famed vessel of Zhigucheng, annually transporting Yunnan copper to the imperial mint.

Zhang Sanzhi had sunk these nine treasure ships by slaughtering the entire copper fleet, along with its cargo, and dumping them into the Southern Canal—not just one wealthy master, but thousands of crewmen, sending the whole fleet to meet the Heavenly Empress!

Four-Eyes Daoist adjusted his spectacles, stammering: “This… this…”

Zhang Sanzhi smiled: “Master, don’t panic. This year’s copper fleet has already passed. These nine dragon-ships aren’t carrying Yunnan copper—they’re treasures the Emperor collected from the south for alchemy. Originally meant to be hidden among the copper fleet for transport to the capital, but word leaked. Thieves planned to hijack them, so we delayed, waiting to slip them into the capital under cover of the foreigners’ Longevity Elixir shipment, to draw everyone’s attention.”

“But my brothers still found out.”

Zhang Sanzhi smiled faintly: “Originally, hijacking this fleet would have drawn too much attention—we couldn’t have borne it.”

“But now that the Master of Xuanzhen has descended, even the one on the throne can’t sit still…”

Four-Eyes Daoist said nothing. Such a feat could never be accomplished by a mere gang of porters—even the White Lotus Sect would have to expend all its strength. Who else could muster such power for a mere ghost lawsuit? The answer was obvious.

But why would the court pay such a price? Was it truly… truly only for…

“Who is the Master of Xuanzhen?” Four-Eyes Daoist murmured, dazed. “Could he be someone like Liu Xiu or Zhu Yuanzhang…?”

Zhang Sanzhi saw his hesitation at once and shook his head, smiling: “Master, don’t speculate. Even Guangwu and Hongwu fall short of his status.”

“He’s a being from heaven. Our Emperor brews Longevity Elixir to ascend to immortality—what better medicine than a living immortal reborn?”

“It’s all medicine. Whether you throw it into the furnace in the capital or into this furnace in Zhigucheng—what difference does it make?”

Zhang Sanzhi’s lips curled in a half-smile.

“Even if these nine ships can’t earn the Heavenly Empress’s glance, they’re enough to anchor the Dragon Abyss and sink into the Three Forks River mouth!”

“In ancient times, our gang’s founder sank the river with iron chains as thick as arms and millstone-sized stones. Now, what we sink are nine treasure ships, each carrying hundreds of thousands of shi.”

“I wonder if such weight can sink deep enough—can it crack open the legendary bottomless Dragon Abyss?”

The Nine Dragon Fleet glided slowly into the Three Forks River mouth, where the Temple of the Heavenly Empress, bathed in moonlight, mirrored on the water like a dragon palace beneath the waves.