Chapter Fifty-Nine: Dreamscape

Two days later...

Shi Qi and Su Xiaomu glimpsed Donghai City from the clouds, marveling at its bustling prosperity.

Donghai City was not a closed fortress; its trading fleets ferried specialties to Dongzhou and Little Dongzhou for commerce, and also carried students to study abroad. The current city master was once a scholar who studied at the Hanlin Academy in Dongzhou forty years ago, rising to the rank of Second Grade official. Eventually, he forsook his post in Dongzhou to return home, and at fifty-seven, was elected city master for a ten-year term.

Why the limit of ten years? The wise men of Donghai City had deliberated on the matter. Across the twelve provinces, whether emperors inherited or dynasties changed, the early years are often ruled by wise sovereigns, but as time passes, they grow complacent and decadent, especially in their latter years. Thus, Donghai’s city master may only serve for a decade. With this restriction, city masters do not cling to power, striving instead to accomplish as much as possible during their tenure. They know that any wrongdoing will be reckoned by their successors, who are chosen not by the outgoing master, but by the people of Donghai City and its nine towns.

Shi Qi, accompanied by Su Xiaomu, ventured into Donghai City for the lively atmosphere. Even for Shi Qi, wealthy as he was, the prices seemed exorbitant—especially for fine wine and precious gems, which were astronomical. Meanwhile, staples like pork, vegetables, seafood, and rice were remarkably affordable.

Shi Qi was grateful to be a cultivator; otherwise, he would surely have filled a spatial bag in Qingzhou with fine wine to sell here.

The people of Donghai were warm and friendly. Monks from Faming Temple and priests from Wanhua Palace often roamed the city, greeting each other with respectful bows.

The two spent a day exploring, sampling every delicacy. Su Xiaomu was effusive in her praise for Donghai’s specialty seafood.

They found lodging at an inn, Shi Qi planning to set out at dawn for the cave mansion spoken of by the White Egret Immortal.

That night, Shi Qi, as was his habit, sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes closed, and began to refine the Thousandfold Resilience Shield in his heart.

With daily cultivation, the Thousandfold Resilience Shield had become closely attuned to Shi Qi’s true qi, yet it still showed no sign of advancing to the second realm.

As he cultivated, Shi Qi unexpectedly lost consciousness and drifted into sleep.

Cultivators require no sleep; like others of his kind, Shi Qi usually spent his nights meditating or refining magical treasures, not knowing how long it had been since he last slept. Yet tonight, for reasons unknown, he succumbed to slumber.

In his dream, Shi Qi found himself standing before a manor outside Donghai City.

The manor was small and ordinary, the type found everywhere beyond the city. Shi Qi stepped inside—a modest courtyard with a few saplings and freshly planted flowers.

“Is anyone here?” Shi Qi called out, waiting a moment without reply.

He shuffled through the courtyard to the sole cottage within.

Knocking—“knock, knock, knock…”—he received no response. Shi Qi pushed open the door and entered.

The room was humble, containing only a bed, two chairs, and a table. On the table sat a steaming bowl of chicken soup, freshly cooked.

Suddenly, a sound outside—a rush of wind. Shi Qi spun around.

Two cultivators flew into the courtyard and strode directly inside.

“Forgive me, I meant no intrusion…” Shi Qi hurriedly bowed in apology.

Yet the two seemed not to see him, walking straight toward him.

Shi Qi stood puzzled as they passed right through his body, settling at the table.

Stunned, Shi Qi glanced at himself—had they just… walked through him? Moreover, they could not see him. Was he non-existent in this scene?

Or perhaps, like the sealed dragon’s domain, this was a projection?

He studied the pair. The man was about twenty-six or twenty-seven, wearing green Daoist robes, his features gentle and hair slicked back. The woman appeared younger, clad in white gauze, her hair as supple as willow strands, dimples blooming when she smiled.

They seemed to be Daoist partners.

The woman served the man a bowl of chicken soup; he drank, then smiled, “Your skill with chicken soup grows ever more refined.”

She laughed, “If you like it, I’ll cook it for you every day.”

He set down the bowl, took her hand, and spoke earnestly, “When we return to the twelve provinces, I’ll go to your sect to propose marriage!”

Unexpectedly, her expression changed. She pulled her hand away, her tone stern, “I’ve told you, never mention this again. I am a disciple of Quanzhen, and have sworn before the Three Pure Ones never to marry! You… You and I are merely recuperating together; today marks the tenth day. In a few days, I shall leave, and this matter must not be raised again.”

The man seemed wounded, lowering his head to drink his soup in silence.

After a while, the woman rose, taking his hand as they walked to the bed.

…

Suddenly, Shi Qi’s vision blurred, and after a few moments, clarity returned. He saw the woman asleep under the covers beside the bed, the man nowhere to be found—it was evidently the next morning.

“Spicy shredded chicken! Why did the key moment skip?” Shi Qi cursed.

Then he noticed a letter on the table. Curious, he surmised the man must have departed, leaving a note.

Shi Qi stepped forward to read its contents.

The moment his gaze landed on the letter, a buzzing filled his mind, darkness enveloped him.

When he opened his eyes again, the scene had changed.

Before him stretched a vast blue sea; the man he’d seen stood at the shore, staring skyward.

Shi Qi moved towards him, when suddenly—crack!—a bolt of lightning as thick as a grown man crashed from the clouds into the water, sending waves surging in all directions. The lightning pierced the sea unhindered. With a mournful roar, a dragon burst from the water ten yards before the man, its hundred-yard-long form thrashing and howling at the thunderclouds.

The man hastily reversed his flying sword, summoning a net of lightning from the clouds, covering dozens of acres.

Countless jets of water shot up, smashing into the lightning net and forcing it back into the clouds.

Ten bolts of lightning struck the dragon; it erupted with blue energy, and though the man was far from the creature, the protective qi that washed over him forced him to retreat.

Shi Qi, unaffected as an outsider, was nonetheless stunned by the spectacle.

The dragon’s protective aura split into ten streams, countering the lightning. When they collided, the electricity dissipated, the aura faded. The dragon stood proud in the sea, ceaselessly roaring at the clouds.

Shi Qi realized what he was witnessing—the jiao serpent, offspring of jiao and snake, when cultivated, would attract a heavenly tribulation. Surviving it, it becomes a jiao dragon; endure yet another, and it transforms into a true dragon, achieving completion. The jiao dragon before him had passed one tribulation and was now contending with the heavens to attempt another, aiming to shed its jiao form for that of a true dragon. According to the annals, jiao serpents were common beasts, with about one in ten becoming jiao dragons, but none had ever been recorded transforming into true dragons.

The jiao dragon within the seal that Shi Qi once saw was one that had survived a single tribulation. This tribulation dragon, like the sealed one, had not achieved transformation, but was struggling against heaven. If successful, it would become a dragon.

The lightning grew fiercer, imbued with divine thunder, its power immense. Divine thunder was not of the five elemental types and could not be countered with conventional techniques. The dragon was formidable, but the thunderclouds pressed harder, their force inexhaustible. The dragon, unwilling to yield, strove against the heavens, but the clouds grew ever more savage, pouring down hundreds of bolts capable of pulverizing mountains.

Unable to resist, the dragon unleashed its core, which temporarily suppressed the clouds and even pushed them back, dispersing much of their density. Yet to fight with one’s essence is a suicidal act. In less than the time it takes to finish a cup of tea, the dragon’s core was shattered, its body reduced to ash. The clouds dissipated, restoring blue skies and white clouds above the sea.

Is this the Way of Heaven? For half an hour, Shi Qi was immersed in the scene, overwhelmed. The dragon’s emergence from the sea was already awe-inspiring, but the merciless tribulation clouds were even more terrifying, leaving Shi Qi’s legs trembling after it ended.

He could not fathom why the dragon sought the tribulation. This was a chosen trial, not a forced one—a cultivator challenges heaven’s might when they feel ready: pass, and become a dragon; fail, and perish.

Recalling the tribulation, Shi Qi felt the dragon’s rebellious spirit, roaring at the heavenly clouds, and also its unwillingness in defeat.

The dragon left nothing behind except the image of its defiance, a heroic figure challenging the thunderclouds—though unbeatable, it chose to advance.

The man seemed deeply shaken. Shi Qi watched him fly forward, landing on the water’s surface to gently caress it.

Just then, a figure in white arrived—a venerable Daoist, who silently descended from the clouds, likewise stroking the sea, but with a trace of sorrow.

“A thousand-year jiao dragon could live ten thousand years—why must it defy the Way of Heaven?” The old Daoist rose, turning to the man as if seeking someone to talk to: “He grew up in Penglai…”

Shi Qi quietly landed behind them, listening to their conversation.

The old Daoist held no official position, merely a solitary, mediocre cultivator from Penglai. He had been friends with this dragon since childhood, often sneaking mortal food to it. The two enjoyed carefree days on Penglai Island. Now, with the Daoist’s life nearing its end, the dragon left Penglai to seek its tribulation. Four hundred years of friendship had ended; the Daoist did not know why the dragon chose this path, but was certain it had something to do with him. Though he was pure-hearted and detached, the memory moved him to tears.

If the heavens had feelings, they would grow old… The bonds of the world are not limited to those between men and women.

Heaven and earth treat all things as straw dogs, yet all things possess feeling. Though heaven regards all as straw dogs, living things love and forget fear, neither grieving their fate nor revering heaven’s might…

Shi Qi was reflecting when suddenly, the man turned and stared at Shi Qi, making him uneasy.

He—he can see me?!

Before Shi Qi could react, the man instantly appeared before him, touching his finger to Shi Qi’s dantian!

“Ah!”

Shi Qi cried out, abruptly opening his eyes!

He found himself still seated on the inn’s bed, unmoved, his body drenched in sweat.

Was that… a dream?

Yet, why did it feel so real?

Who was that man? Who was the woman? Why did they appear in his dream?

And why could the man see him at the end—and attack him?

Shi Qi was utterly confused. He reached to touch his dantian.

“Hm?!”

This touch startled him—something felt off!

Shi Qi immediately focused inward, examining himself.

At his dantian, his orange core spun slowly, unchanged, but faint traces of lightning flickered across its surface, barely perceptible.

“Lightning?”

Shi Qi was surprised. He knew well that he possessed the extreme water constitution, destined to cultivate water techniques alone. Even with the power of extreme cold, he could never depart from the foundations of water. Why, then, was there lightning?

Shi Qi ceased his inner vision, forming a claw with his five fingers, slowly gathering true qi.

Suddenly, he sensed an illusory force mingling with his true qi. With a thought, a faintly glowing ball of lightning appeared in his hand…