Chapter 72: The Victorious Fish

Page 1 of 3

“How could there be birdsong?” Zhou Qian frowned. This was already the third time he’d heard such strange sounds underwater. “And how could birdsong travel through water?”

The Dragon Gate was just within reach, yet Zhou Qian’s unease only grew stronger. Suddenly, a dark shadow streaked rapidly from the upper right—a speed so fast that, in a flash, blood spurted in a cloud from a Tiance secret guard’s left arm, dissolving into the water—while the shadow paused nearby, its jagged maw opening and closing as it began to chew. Zhou Qian finally saw its form, and a shock flashed through his mind. This was—Yingyu!

Yingyu: a beast with a fish’s body and bird’s wings, whose cry resembles that of a mandarin duck, and whose appearance foretells great floods for the land!

It was the sixty-fifth creature in the Compendium of Strange Beasts, a monster from the surviving fragments of the Classic of Mountains and Seas, now unbelievably manifest before his very eyes!

This Yingyu was as thick as a strong man’s arm, pale blue in color, its mouth lined with two rows of serrated teeth—densely packed and terrifying. Seemingly roused by the scent of blood, its jaws parted and snapped, the birdsong it emitted ever sharper. With a flick of its tail, it dove downward. Several Tiance secret guards had fixed their eyes on the “strange fish,” their short daggers flashing down like shooting stars. Even with the resistance of the water, their strikes were swift.

Sound could not travel underwater, but Zhou Qian saw the Yingyu glide along the dagger, twist around the guard’s arm, and in an instant, its toothed maw crushed most of the man’s neck, sending blood and flesh flying.

The other four guards remained impassive, their four daggers slicing in deadly arcs, but when blade met scale it was as if two slabs of iron ground uselessly against each other. Yingyu’s fangs were as sharp as swords; under its powerful jaws, steel daggers—unbending even under a thousand pounds of force—were chewed to splinters. The four guards, too, lost their weapons, transformed into clawless tigers.

In the blink of an eye, six secret guards were slain, and the scent of blood drew three more Yingyu. One of them was as thick as a human thigh, truly monstrous and fearsome.

Zhou Qian’s eyes narrowed, for among the dead was one who carried the key. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the confrontation between the guards and the Yingyu and dove swiftly toward the corpse.

Don’t be fooled by how powerless these Tiance secret guards seemed before the Yingyu. The beast was a spirit creature, possessed of a cultivated Dao, far beyond ordinary men. On land, clad in full armor, five Tiance secret guards might have stood a chance; with ten, Zhou Qian would have thought twice before engaging.

Zhou Qian’s actions clearly caught the attention of both the guards and the beasts, but the clustered guards presented a more tempting target. The four Yingyu circled them, waiting for a chance to strike. The guards, trained to act in concert, exchanged a glance; two of them quietly swam toward Zhou Qian, while the others moved in the opposite direction—an obvious move to sacrifice pawns to protect the king.

At last Zhou Qian reached the corpse as it settled five fathoms deep, seized its arm, and took from the waist a bronze key shaped like a dragon—the Emperor’s secret key. With a gesture, he indicated the direction; the two guards nodded in understanding, and together they swam toward the cleft in the Dragon Gate not far away.

In the distance, the water had turned to a bloody mist. The Yingyu, along with other nameless monsters of the Qi River, feasted, the sounds of their feeding turned by the water into a ghastly chorus. Zhou Qian’s eye twitched and his heart sank. These men, it seemed, had little chance of survival. He glanced at the two beside him, but found their faces expressionless, as if life and death no longer mattered to them. What methods had the court used to create such killing machines? This was no way of the righteous.

The Dragon Gate was close now; as they were about to slip into the cleft between the mountains, a massive shadow flashed before them—it was the largest Yingyu. Who knew when it had abandoned its “feast” to come here? Perhaps it wished to enjoy these few alone.

Its rancid yellow eyes swept over the three, finally settling on Zhou Qian, perhaps finding him the tastiest.

Zhou Qian felt a jolt of dread. The beast’s ferocity underwater was already branded into his mind; it was no ordinary animal.

With a flick of its thick tail, the Yingyu stirred up ripples, and Zhou Qian immediately felt a surge of blood-scented water, fangs churning toward him. With no time to think, he raised the Ghostmaster Sword before him, kicked with both feet, and slid right to divert the force.

Page 2 of 3

“Screee—” The Yingyu grazed the sword and shot forward over a dozen yards, vanishing into the murky Qi River. Zhou Qian quickly tossed the Dragon Key to the two behind him, instinctively certain the Yingyu would not let him go. Out of the corner of his eye, Zhou Qian saw the beast’s barrel-shaped body circling nearby.

He glanced at the Ghostmaster Sword and grimaced. The blade now bore several white marks and cracks, which made Zhou Qian’s heart ache. Even among the finest swords of the martial world, this weapon ranked in the top five, yet it could not withstand the monstrous power of the Yingyu’s jaws.

In the muddy river, visibility was nil. Zhou Qian, ever wary, swam toward the underwater slopes of Mt. Epang. Only there, in that labyrinth of rocks, might he have a chance to escape. As for slaying the Yingyu, Zhou Qian didn’t even consider it. His treasured sword couldn’t even pierce the beast’s scales; he was wise enough to know his limits.

The Yingyu charged straight for his face again, but Zhou Qian dared not block with the Ghostmaster Sword, for fear the force would shatter the blade. In the martial world, strength alone does not win—true victory belongs to the clever.

His heart pounding like a drum, Zhou Qian’s body flushed deep red, every muscle, bone, and organ tensed in a single surge of force—his energy roiling inside him like firecrackers. He gathered his power, then sealed it within his pores, giving him that bizarre appearance.

With a sudden release, all 36,000 pores of his body simultaneously expelled sweat and energy, forcing the water around him half a foot away. Seizing the moment, Zhou Qian borrowed the force, hands pulling and thrusting in a masterful technique—using the powerful current to hurl the barrel-sized Yingyu away once more.

For any mortal, such a feat would be miraculous. The incoming water pressure made Zhou Qian taste blood, but he swallowed it down. Not a drop could escape—any scent of blood now would be fatal.

He was near the foot of Mt. Epang, so he hurried, twisting through seven or eight turns before hiding behind a boulder. He was in terrible shape—not so much from his injuries, but from the massive loss of energy through his pores, leaving him breathless. With his level of inner cultivation, he could normally hold his breath for half an hour.

Zhou Qian had no desire to be the world’s first martial artist to suffocate underwater, and he’d already given his all for this endeavor. If those two couldn’t open the Dragon Gate, then truly, fate had decreed it so. Shaking his muddled head, he hunched over, climbing upward using rocks, muddy water, and seaweed as cover. So long as nothing went awry, he was confident he could reach the surface alive.

But fate rarely complies with human wishes. At some unknown moment, an immense undercurrent erupted, sweeping up tons of mud, sand, and stone. The whirlpool’s reach spanned a hundred yards, dragging all the debris at the mountain’s foot along with it. Fortunately, Zhou Qian reacted swiftly, clinging desperately to a rock, but then realized half a stick of incense’s time had already passed.

The boulder Zhou Qian gripped was massive, not so easily swept away, but he was still battered and rolled toward the depths.

“All that effort to climb up, and now it’s wasted?” was Zhou Qian’s last conscious thought.

Perhaps the time of a cup of tea, perhaps a stick of incense later, the current ceased. Zhou Qian’s back was a mass of wounds, but he was luckier than most—he could see over a dozen water monsters, many times larger than the Yingyu, being smashed to bits or hurled away by the force.

When the water cleared a little, Zhou Qian groped about. In truth, he was utterly spent, unable to reach the surface, but to simply give up and die was not in Zhou Qian’s nature.

By chance, he recognized a familiar crevice and staggered toward it.

“Isn’t this the site of the Dragon Gate? How could I have drifted so far, only to end up back here?” Zhou Qian wondered, struggling.

Passing through the gap, he saw an ancient bronze door set in the cliff face, a bronze dragon key already inserted at its center. Of the two Tiance secret guards, there was no sign.

Page 3 of 3

Zhou Qian tried to turn the Dragon Key, but it would not budge. At last, his strength failed him and he collapsed before the Dragon Gate, foam gathering at his lips—

Perhaps by coincidence, perhaps by destiny, at that very moment the Yinglong Key slowly began to turn amid the flashing of lightning and the rumble of thunder.

Mt. Epang trembled under the relentless assault of the Qi River, the vibrations so rapid that stones continually tumbled. A hint of joy flashed across Zhou Xun’s lips—he had tried every means to no avail, but now, with the shaking of the mountain, the Yinglong Key had shifted slightly to the left.

“No wonder the reopening of the Emperor’s tomb requires the force of the Qi River—such mechanisms are truly ingenious…” Zhou Xun murmured.

In a curious synchronicity, the Glass Dragon Gate before Tu Yong and the Tang Clan master began to groan open, the bronze doors at the mountain hollow twisting inward under the pressure of the peaks.

The last Dragon Gate, too, turned on its own as the undercurrent struck. Water pressed against the copper doors, which creaked and groaned.

The flood burst through, surging toward the tomb of the First Emperor, sweeping Zhou Qian and sand, rocks, and weeds inside with it…

He had no idea how long had passed before he slowly regained consciousness. Zhou Qian’s eyes were glazed and unfocused, his belly swollen as if pregnant from the Qi River water. Then—“Ugh!”—a torrent of water spewed from his mouth, until even the bile was gone. Luckily, Zhou Qian was trained in the martial arts, or the mud and water would have ruptured his stomach long before.

He rubbed his eyes vigorously, and when his vision cleared, managed to crawl upright, sneezing several times before stripping off his soaked clothes, wringing them out, and slipping them back on. He looked around, discovering he was in a cave—sheer walls, occasional tunnels, jagged rocks adorned with faintly glowing moss. Using the dim light, Zhou Qian pressed forward, his steps uneven.

“So this is the First Emperor’s tomb? It doesn’t quite match what I imagined,” he muttered, his hands habitually reaching for his waist—only to feel a pang of loss. At some point, the Ghostmaster Sword had been swept away by the current.

That sword had been with him for three years. Wherever he went, whatever he did, it never left his side. Now, losing it all of a sudden was like losing an old friend, and Zhou Qian felt a deep sorrow.

He forced himself onward, and before he knew it, he had reached the opposite rock wall. It was so smooth it resembled a mirror. Zhou Qian leaned closer, examining his bedraggled reflection, sighing for a while before continuing.

“Huh?” Zhou Qian exclaimed in surprise. There was a black mark on the great stone wall, different from the rest. Looking around, he noticed similar marks nearby. Standing too close, he couldn’t make out the whole, so he stepped back—farther and farther, until he was a full twenty yards away—then realized the wall’s reflection formed a dozen or so enormous characters:

“Eight hundred years have passed; now that the second heavenly tribulation is over, the Great Dao may yet be attained. Hahaha—Left by the Real Man of Extreme Yin.”

Zhou Qian read aloud, “The Real Man of Extreme Yin? Who might that be?” He scratched his head in puzzlement.