Chapter 9: Hu Yang Mountain Marshes

One more step, and the child would have been run over.

The child picked up the rattle drum from the ground, coughing uncontrollably from the dust kicked up by the horses' hooves. The parent finally pushed through the crowd, scooped up the child, and ran off without a backward glance.

Bystanders on the street immediately started to shout accusations, but the white-robed rider seemed to ignore them, looking up instead at Uncle Hao.

Uncle Hao remained expressionless.

Standing next to He Lingchuan, Liu Baobao cleared his throat forcefully. "Who are you people?" he demanded. "Are you aware that riding horses at full speed in a crowded market is punishable by flogging?"

The white-robed youth let out a scoffing laugh. "Who's going to administer the flogging?" he sneered. "You?"

The man's gaze was piercing, making Liu Baobao's face tingle. He instinctively recoiled slightly. "Blackwater City has strict laws," he managed. "Try running a few more steps and see what happens!"

At Liu Baobao's words, the youth dismissed him, shifting his gaze to He Lingchuan instead, as if recognizing him as the one in charge.

He Lingchuan smiled back. The youth, however, fixed him with a careful gaze for a moment before urging his horse forward once more.

The grey-robed rider following him never once looked up.

After this brief commotion, the two riders slowed their pace. Everyone on the street, young and old, watched them until they disappeared around the corner.

That direction was out of the city, heading northeast.

Uncle Hao remarked at that moment, "Both of these individuals possess cultivation. I couldn't discern the true power of the grey-robed rider in particular. As for the white-clothed youth, he might be from a military background."

He Lingchuan raised an eyebrow, a touch surprised.

Uncle Hao had once massacred over a dozen prominent families in the capital during the night. He was later enlightened by a Daoist, learning mystical arts and dispelling his malevolent aura. His cultivation was profound, and he held a high-ranking position as an esteemed retainer within the He family. If he said the grey-robed rider was formidable, He Lingchuan had no reason to doubt it.

These two didn't seem like ordinary merchants. What were they doing in this remote border region?

Just then, several Blackwater City patrols arrived in the middle of the street. They too had been alerted and asked the surrounding crowd, "What happened?"

"Two people rode horses recklessly through the market and almost trampled a child!" the crowd reported, speaking over each other but conveying the same message.

Only two riders? Then it wasn't the He family's young master – thankfully! The patrols, now even angrier, looked up and spotted He Lingchuan peeking out of a window, watching the commotion. Their expressions immediately softened, and they quickly greeted him with a slight bow and a smile. "Lord He, are you well?"

"Very well, thank you," He Lingchuan replied with a smile. "Are you here to pursue someone?"

"Yes, we are!" the patrol captain declared, brimming with righteous indignation. "They were told not to ride horses at full speed, yet they defied the order! This is clearly a contempt for the law! They must be severely punished!"

He Lingchuan pointed them in the right direction. "Those two headed towards the northeast gate," he said.

The patrol captain thanked him and, along with his subordinates, set off in pursuit.

Once they had left, Uncle Hao commented, "A few patrols won't be enough to apprehend them."

"I know," He Lingchuan said with a shrug. "I was just testing the waters. This is Blackwater City, after all. Can they really cause a major scene in broad daylight?"

Indeed, the patrols returned about a quarter of an hour later, empty-handed.

He Lingchuan wasn't surprised by this outcome, but he still wanted to know the details. "Where are those two?" he asked.

The patrol leader, surprised that He Lingchuan was still waiting for an update, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Those two," he explained, "are subordinates of General Zhenbei and the Xunzhou Governor. They are here in Blackwater City on official business and presented official documents bearing a fire seal."

He Lingchuan let out a long 'Ohh...' of understanding.

He knew the patrol leader was referring to General Zhenbei Nian Zanli, who also served as the Xunzhou Governor—effectively the region's top military and political authority, with far more power than the Jinzhou Prefect.

A prefecture was subordinate to a province. Even He Chunhua, the Prefect of Qiansong Prefecture, would have to respectfully address General Zhenbei as 'your subordinate official' if they met.

The patrols quickly departed. Liu Baobao, looking somewhat uneasy, murmured, "They shouldn't remember me, should they?"

"Such a small incident, why would they bother remembering you?" He Lingchuan offered insincere reassurance, while in his mind, he wondered why the Xunzhou Governor would send his subordinates to Blackwater City.

Just then, two startling claps of thunder rolled across the sky, rumbling loudly enough to make people's ears ache and sending street dogs yelping with their tails between their legs.

The residents of Blackwater City were accustomed to such occurrences and simply continued with their business.

He Lingchuan looked to the west and saw a vast expanse of dark, heavy clouds gathering ominously on the horizon.

A storm was rapidly approaching.

***

"A storm is coming," the white-robed youth observed, glancing at the sky, then at the grey-robed man. "Sir, do you think this spot will work?"

The two of them were, surprisingly, at Gourd Mountain.

It had seven peaks, three of which were exposed rock and earth, rugged and stark like the heads of bald giants.

Despite its unremarkable appearance, Gourd Mountain was teeming with mice, rabbits, foxes, and deer. Occasionally, hunters could even find wild boars and grey wolves there.

The two stood on an animal trail, having already inspected several caves moments earlier.

"While the land and water aren't particularly abundant, there's no shortage of creatures; the quantity is just barely sufficient," the grey-robed man stated. He now held a purple-gold pestle, its tip carved with a monstrous creature featuring bulging eyes and a gaping maw. Four hanging rings encircled its base, and its pointed end, sharpened like a cone, gleamed with a metallic sheen.

With a flick in the wind, the foot-long pestle transformed into a seven-foot purple-gold staff.

The grey-robed man plunged the purple-gold staff more than a foot into the soil until it stood firm on its own. Only then did he ask the white-robed youth for a greenish copper coin and insert it into the creature's mouth.

The creature's maw closed on its own, clamping down on the coin, and a red glow intensified in its eyes.

The grey-robed man began to sway the top of the staff.

The hanging rings at the monster's base immediately began to jingle and clang. While initially sounding chaotic, with a moment's concentration, one could discern a distinct, repeating rhythm, cycling over and over.

And each cycle became clearer, louder, and... carried further than the last!

The chirping of insects and calls of birds that had filled the mountain forest completely vanished, leaving only the persistent, echoing jingle of the rings.

The white-robed youth took a deep breath.

Even with his focused concentration, listening intently to the ringing quickly made him feel dizzy, his head pound, and his ears ring. He had to break his focus, staring blankly at the distant mountain peaks instead.

Only by diverting his attention could he bear it.

After roughly the time it takes to steep a cup of tea, a rustling sound came from behind them, followed by an exasperated voice:

"Stop swaying! Stop it! Don't make that sound anymore!"

The purple-gold staff immediately ceased its motion at the sound. The two looked back to see a poplar tree shaking its branches and leaves, rustling loudly, as if the voice was emanating directly from its foliage.

The poplar was gnarled and vigorous, weathered by centuries of wind and frost, appearing to be at least three or four hundred years old. It was the largest tree in the vicinity.

The white-robed youth spoke first. "Are you the local mountain spirit?"

"I am the mountain spirit of Poplar Mountain, appointed two hundred years ago. This place is now known as Gourd Mountain." The Poplar Mountain spirit's voice was peculiar, like the rustling and vibration of countless leaves. It was initially somewhat indistinct but grew smoother as it spoke.

It was as if someone who hadn't spoken in years was rediscovering the ability to form words. "I've been in a deep slumber for a very long time; even local officials couldn't rouse me. Who are you?"

Only then did it sense the copper coin held in the purple-gold staff's beast head, reacting with surprise. "Oh, is this the new dynasty's Sovereign Order?" it wondered. "It's called... what kind of kite?"

"Yuan Coin," the grey-robed man supplied, tapping the beast head. The greenish copper coin dropped into his palm. Any idle bystander would have noticed that this coin was slightly larger than ordinary copper coins, with its hole placed at the top for easy stringing.