Chapter Three: Clues of the Celestial Dragon (1)

Perhaps the world outside was so vibrant and dazzling that Gu Zhiheng, encountering it for the first time, found himself momentarily overwhelmed. His gaze was vacant as he watched the endless stream of cars and people, the neon lights and the revelry. When he left that day, he already knew the town closest to the ancestral shrine had what they sought, but at first, his heart was filled only with his own needs—he had never considered anything beyond that.

Yet now he was like a child, brimming with curiosity about everything, driven by an urge to explore.

“So what’s the matter? Used to the scent of books, accustomed to plain tea and simple meals, and now this kind of life opens your eyes?”

The mocking voice was harsh, yet strangely it didn’t make one frown. It was true enough—this was indeed an eye-opening experience. The outside world could be intoxicating, awash in neon and indulgence, or reckless and wanton, with people forging ahead with little concern for consequence.

The night outside was not merely dark—it held the shadows of passersby, the drunkenness from taverns along the street, and the lives of those who never returned home.

Chuxingran’s long hair brushed Gu Zhiheng’s face, the wind blowing again and again without tiring—why bother caring about a few idle words from strangers? Whether it was ingrained manners or the interests before him, Gu Zhiheng kept his face cold as an iceberg, never letting anyone discern his joy, anger, sorrow, or delight.

He parted his lips slightly, his tone subdued, “If you’re drunk, go home and rest. Your health matters.”

He spoke the truth. Compared to Gu Zhiheng, this sickly beauty, the man opposite looked even more frail—one might say he was simply weak.

The man across from him plainly disregarded Gu Zhiheng’s admonition, even feeling annoyed that this rustic upstart had dampened his mood. Chuxingran, enjoying the breeze and flowers, didn’t intervene either, letting Gu Zhiheng speak openly, even as the man’s anger simmered.

“It’s late. Let’s go home.” It was both advice and command.

In Gu Zhiheng’s eyes, Chuxingran was his elder sister, perhaps held other roles, but she was not a bargaining chip for others to use against him. If it weren’t for the need to get information on the Tianlong’s whereabouts, he wouldn’t have come to such a place tonight, nor put up with this nonsense, watching a feeble wretch gesturing before him.

On their first day away from the ancestral shrine, they headed toward the nearest town, where he could find books and materials about Tianlong. The goal was clear, the purpose unmistakable, yet once they started acting, everything became much more restricted.

The man before them was like a muddy road on their journey—slippery in rain, dusty in sun. He was impervious to persuasion, neither lacking in wealth nor power, but easily swayed by beauty.

Of course, Gu Zhiheng would never push Chuxingran forward for his own gain; he was not the sort to do whatever it took for his objectives. Besides, venturing into society, he would hardly get far without her help.

Money could move mountains, but this “ghost” beside him didn’t play by the rules nor follow the usual path.

It was oddly amusing—the man before them was fearless, and while Gu Zhiheng wore his cold expression, Chuxingran was momentarily distracted, the man actually reached out with his grubby hand.

Chuxingran could not endure this. The anger she’d held in all night erupted in an instant, and she slapped him hard across the face.

“You should’ve found out who you’re dealing with—daring to try anything with me, you must have lost your mind!”

The slap rang out, crisp and satisfying. Even Gu Zhiheng, usually expressionless, showed a change—his composure shattered.

But it wasn’t so simple. No sooner had her hand struck than there was a splash—the lecherous man fell into the water.

Those at nearby tables, familiar with the man’s reputation, kept their heads down, pretending not to see. They weren’t afraid of trouble, but Chuxingran’s slap had been too intimidating. They feared nothing but death.

The man floundered in the water, his weakness evident; after a few moments, he began to sink. Gu Zhiheng shot Chuxingran a glance, and she hauled him out.

“All the Tianlong documents, have them ready for me by noon tomorrow, or you won’t live to see another day!”

Chuxingran’s fierce threat succeeded, at least on the surface. The man agreed repeatedly, though a flash of malice flickered in his lowered eyes.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. Gu Zhiheng only wanted to find the Tianlong quickly, to obtain its heart and prolong his life.

On the very first day away, he already felt the outside world might not accommodate him. That suffocating sense swept over him, making him want to retreat. Yet seeing Chuxingran tirelessly helping him, now risking everything to stay by his side, he forced himself to suppress all discomfort.

The Tianlong liked dampness, often found in moist corners, under bricks, decaying leaves, or in old, wet houses—most common in summer.

Though it was spring, they might still encounter one. But those were ordinary earth dragons, useless to him. He needed one that had survived at least a hundred years—ideally five hundred.

Because of the age requirement, the difficulty soared, so despite their impatience, Gu Zhiheng and Chuxingran endured.

“Please, spare me! I’ll take you to get the books right now—just let me go!” he pleaded. It was only a battered old book; he had no idea what she wanted it for, but if she wanted it, she could have it. Why resort to violence?

It was his own fault—he couldn’t resist a beautiful woman, always wanting to flirt. Now, he’d gained nothing, taken a beating, and would have to give up his family’s prized manuscript. It felt like a loss.

Watching the man’s shifty eyes, Gu Zhiheng warned coldly, “Don’t try anything, or I won’t hesitate to cut you down.”

The heart of the Tianlong was the first he needed. He had to be cautious, and obtain it as quickly as possible, then devour it.

To be safe, he would not let his guard down from now on—he must remain vigilant at every moment.

Besides the Tianlong, he needed dozens more species, each with its heart—a daunting thought.

Mingshui Town was famous for raising Tianlongs; there were countless ordinary medicinal ones here, but whether any had lived a hundred years was unknown.

The only clue was the lecherous man’s family manuscript, which described the centenarian Tianlong only briefly—whether it existed, or where, was still a mystery.

But one thing was certain: the manuscript claimed the Tianlong was in this town.

Yet Mingshui was vast, nestled against the mountains, fanning outward. With thousands of households spread over a wide area, searching for a centenarian Tianlong would be no easy task.

“Please, don’t be angry! I drove here—we’ll be at my house in half an hour,” the man groveled, leading them out of the bar and driving toward his home.

Yet the matter of the centenarian Tianlong would keep many awake tonight, for in Mingshui Town, it truly existed.