Chapter 1746: White Dragon Lord

The waves crashed against the reefs, sending white foam into the air. Towering cliffs, thousands of feet high, formed an impenetrable wall, holding back the sea. No matter how powerful the waves, they could never breach it.

"A land of treacherous mountains and waters..." Qin Sang stood at the cliff's edge, gazing forward, and murmured to himself. He had crossed the sea and, with little effort, found the land the Celestial Eye Butterfly had previously seen.

The landscape appeared vastly different from afar than it did up close. From his vantage point, he could see countless majestic mountain ranges stretching endlessly, their peaks steep and numerous, shrouded in clouds and mist. The treacherous terrain was no less formidable than the Southern Barbarian regions of Central Plains.

"There are probably many spirits and monsters here, making it unsuitable for ordinary mortals. I wonder if the inhabitants of this realm are as frail as those in the Storm Realm..."

With the path ahead uncertain, Qin Sang deliberately suppressed his aura. His True Essence was restrained, making it inconvenient to use his spiritual sense or awaken the Celestial Eye Butterfly to observe the mountain's state. Before gaining intelligence, only a few demons and spirits could instinctively master the art of aura suppression. Most did not know how to conceal their presence, and among demonkind, strength was paramount; they would not only avoid hiding but would flaunt their power even more as they grew stronger. By observing the cloud qi in the mountains, one could glean some insight.

Unexpectedly, what Qin Sang saw greatly surprised him. Although the mountains ahead were shrouded in mist formed by condensed water vapor, they were surprisingly clear. On the demon island where he had lived for over ten years, a mere patch of jungle harbored hundreds of spirits and monsters. Yet here, he could barely detect any demonic energy. The vast difference between the two regions was truly strange. Such a sight suggested two possibilities: either a powerful demon resided nearby, causing all other demons to flee, or there were demon slayers who had cleansed the mountains and rivers.

The Celestial Eye Butterfly had exceptional eyesight, capable of seeing great distances. As far as its vision reached, the mountains ahead stretched endlessly, with no end to the land in sight, and to either side, there seemed to be no boundary.

Qin Sang did not linger long on the cliff. He leaped down the mountain like a pouncing tiger, silently traversing the forest. He moved incredibly fast, gliding through the dense mountain forests without making a sound. His figure was like a phantom, his aura even fainter than before, relying solely on his physical body. The Celestial Eye Butterfly perched on his left shoulder, vigilant of its surroundings. Such caution was to guard against the presence of powerful demons.

After traversing dozens of mountain ranges in one go, he still found no signs of powerful demons or human habitation. A peculiar stillness permeated the mountains, causing Qin Sang to frown slightly. He stopped on a mountaintop ahead, his nose twitching, then suddenly focused on the left front, his gaze sharpening.

After a moment of contemplation, Qin Sang slightly altered his direction and headed straight towards that spot. As he neared, he slowed his pace, raised his hand to form a hand seal, his qi and blood slightly surging, and a faint golden light shimmered across his skin. This was the Sixth Seal of the Seven Masters' Buddhist Seals, the Golden Vajra Heaven Armor Seal. Once activated, his skin became as hard as armor, exceptionally sturdy—a powerful defensive ability. As "Heavenly Demon Refining Form" progressed to the middle stage of the fourth level, Qin Sang gradually mastered this seal. He had only recently broken through, so he had not yet fully comprehended the intricacies of the Seventh Seal, the Vajra Great Freedom Seal.

With the seal activated, his figure suddenly gained a sense of weightiness. He stepped forward and soon saw two opposing boulders ahead, forming a crevice wide enough for two people to walk abreast. There seemed to be a significant space within. With a light step, he leaped into the crevice. After a few quick strides, he found a valley ahead, just as expected.

The valley was nestled between three mountains. Their curved rock faces naturally formed an elliptical sinkhole, where river water flowed in from the peaks, creating a pond. Upon seeing the scene at the bottom of the sinkhole, Qin Sang's pupils slightly contracted.

The sinkhole was filled with countless skeletal remains. The water flowing in was polluted, and the bones were piled in unknown layers. The lower layers were soaked in foul-smelling putrid water, while the upper bones lay exposed to the daylight, revealing their stark white edges. It was clearly a sacrificial ground! The sinkhole was eerily silent, and despite the high sun, which usually indicated abundant yang energy, it was intensely cold and sinister within.

Qin Sang beckoned, drawing a piece of white bone towards him. After examining it, he murmured, "Demon bones!" It wasn't just that one bone; the entire sinkhole was filled with the bodies of various demon creatures! However, these bones could not be used to refine treasures, as their vital essence had been completely drained. Many bodies were also disemboweled, their internal organs missing. Only then did Qin Sang understand why there were no rampant demons; they had all been slain. There were only the corpses of demon beasts here, because after the spiritual bodies of plant and tree spirits were consumed, they became no different from ordinary withered plants and did not need to be specifically discarded in this place. This did not seem like the work of demon slayers but rather like demons devouring each other, suggesting the perpetrator was highly intelligent.

Qin Sang dropped the bone, leaped out of the sinkhole, and headed towards the interior, finding no other demon beasts along the way.

Continuing forward, after traversing an unknown number of mountain ranges, the terrain finally began to flatten. After pressing on for a while longer, Qin Sang ascended high into the sky to observe. His expression subtly changed as he gazed intently to his right, where he spotted what appeared to be houses and pavilions. He immediately changed direction, quickened his pace, and soon confirmed it was indeed a city.

Halfway there, Qin Sang encountered humans from this realm for the first time. An old man and a young boy walked in the mountains. Both were mortals, identical in limbs, features, and orifices to the human race of the Storm Realm. The old man had a long beard flowing from his chin, and his steps were sturdy, his spirit robust. The boy, about twelve or thirteen, followed behind, carrying a satchel. He swayed his head as he recited some scripture, occasionally asking the old man questions.

Qin Sang listened intently for a while, then extended a wisp of his spiritual sense into the boy's satchel. After perusing the books inside, a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes. The script of this realm was, surprisingly, inherited from the Storm Realm's, allowing him to roughly understand the contents of the books without any special spells! This greatly exceeded Qin Sang's expectations. It was reasonable for the various provinces within the Storm Realm to share the same script, but for different lesser realms to originate from a single lineage of Daoism?

Qin Sang descended from the clouds, transforming into an itinerant Daoist priest, and emerged from the forest. The old man and the boy were startled. The old man immediately pulled the boy behind him.

"Greetings, venerable elder." Qin Sang bowed with clasped hands, imitating their manner of speech.

Seeing that it was a Daoist priest, the old man's vigilance instantly vanished. He repeatedly said he wouldn't dare and hastily returned the gesture. *It seems Daoist priests hold quite high status here?* Qin Sang thought to himself, then continued, "This humble Daoist has traveled here, but inadvertently lost his way in the mountains. I am fortunate to finally encounter people, but I do not know what place this is."

Hearing that he was an itinerant Daoist priest, the old man became even more deferential. "Reporting to Daoist Priest, about ten *li* ahead is a ferry crossing. A short boat ride from there will take you to White Dragon Ford, and from White Dragon Ford, you can go directly downriver to Soaring Dragon City..."

Qin Sang glanced back, pondering that although these two were sturdier than the mortals of the Storm Realm, they could not be a match for demons. For them to survive here, there must be cultivators protecting the city. He considered for a moment and asked, "May I inquire where you two are headed? Would this humble Daoist be able to accompany you?"

"Reporting to Daoist Priest, a relative of this humble villager has passed away at White Dragon Ford, and I am on my way to attend the funeral..." the old man stammered his reply, not daring to refuse Qin Sang's request.

The three walked together on the dirt path. The old man was reserved in his demeanor, while the boy was full of curiosity. The old man wanted to speak but hesitated, ultimately not daring to scold the boy in front of Qin Sang. His face was filled with worry, fearing the boy's careless words might offend the Daoist Priest. With a minor spell, Qin Sang quickly put them at ease, causing them to reveal everything they knew.

Through their conversation, he learned that the region he was currently in was called the Nine Dragons Kingdom. Most places within the kingdom's territory had the character 'dragon' in their names, and the large city ahead was called Soaring Dragon City. Just as he had suspected, Daoist priests held a revered status in the Nine Dragons Kingdom, receiving imperial patronage, and even itinerant Daoist priests were treated with great respect. According to what the old man had heard, it was the same in several nearby kingdoms: Daoist priests did not need permits to enter or exit customs, and even the local officials would personally come to greet them.

As they spoke, the ferry crossing came into view.

"Elder, living outside the city, are you not afraid of the mountain demons?" Qin Sang asked, looking at the old man. In this realm, birds, beasts, and plants were highly susceptible to spiritual cultivation, so even mortals must frequently encounter such phenomena. Before the old man could reply, the boy piped up, "With the protection of the City God and the White Dragon Lord, demons dare not cross our threshold!"

When speaking of the City God and the White Dragon Lord, the boy's face was filled with reverence. Qin Sang had already learned that the "City God" referred to the deity enshrined in a City God Temple in Soaring Dragon City. The "White Dragon Lord" was the river god of the river ahead. The Nine Dragons Kingdom revered Daoism and worshipped gods throughout the land. Soaring Dragon City held annual rituals honoring the City God and the River God, and even villagers living outside the city had to participate in these yearly offerings. The kingdom even issued decrees, with severe penalties for those who failed to worship. Similar situations were not uncommon among mortals in the Storm Realm.

However, deities were typically illusions, often used as means of accumulating wealth. Even if there were genuine protective deities, they were likely cultivators operating under the guise of gods. Although the Nine Dragons Kingdom worshipped gods, the beneficial aspect was that the rituals were government-led, requiring no valuable offerings from the populace, thus ensuring sincere worship. Qin Sang mused that while the deities might not be real gods, there must be entities capable of deterring demons and protecting the region, making the worship not entirely in vain. Unfortunately, although the two had heard many stories of divine manifestations, they had never witnessed them firsthand, so Qin Sang could not determine the true origins of the City God and the White Dragon Lord.

At this moment, the old man patted the boy's head and added, "As long as we don't venture into the deep mountains, there's nothing to fear. I've never seen a demon dare to enter our village, but it's hard to say once you're in the mountains. I've heard many herb gatherers and woodcutters mysteriously disappear there. Our village isn't far from the mountains, and sometimes we're woken in our sleep by strange cries from the mountains. But it's been much quieter recently; the City God and White Dragon Lord must have sent their celestial soldiers to quell them again..."

If it truly were the work of divine celestial soldiers, would they so brutally devour the internal organs and vital essence of the demons they quelled?

By then, they had reached the ferry crossing. A wooden dock stood before them, where a small, dark-canopied boat was moored. A few villagers were already aboard, and the boatman was about to push off. Seeing more people arrive, he hurriedly called out. Seeing Qin Sang's Daoist attire, the villagers all showed deference, willing to squeeze together to make ample room for him. The boatman, too, was full of respect and dared not ask for a fare.

The small boat sailed downriver. Qin Sang ignored the gazes of others, silently contemplating his next steps. He had anticipated various scenarios, even suspecting this might be a demon realm devoid of human presence, but he never imagined it would be like this. Where there are humans, there must be cultivators, and thus, a solution!

"First, I'll go to the city and see who exactly the White Dragon Lord and the City God are." As this thought crossed his mind, he saw the small boat turn past a river bend. The great river ahead stretched straight, with White Dragon Ford at the end of that stretch.

Just as Qin Sang was about to rise and examine the view from the boat's bow, the Celestial Eye Butterfly, hidden on his shoulder, suddenly fluttered its wings. His gaze flickered. Without revealing anything, he glanced at a lone peak by the riverbank, then swept his eyes over White Dragon Ford, remaining seated and still.

The river surface was smooth, and the boat traveled swiftly, reaching White Dragon Ford in a short while. Qin Sang disembarked with the old man and the boy, appearing like any ordinary person.

Amidst the clamor of the ferry crossing, the sound of gongs and drums suddenly arose, and a procession could be seen approaching in the distance. At the front was a Daoist priest in a light yellow robe, holding a ghost-torturing staff in one hand and shaking a golden bell in the other. Behind the priest, people were arranged in two rows. The first few carried offerings of three sacrificial animals, fruits, and soul-summoning banners. Following them were several pairs of official rank boards, then two people holding a pair of large gongs, and a band of musicians. Behind the musicians, some carried a black-canopied sedan chair for summoning souls, along with paper effigies of lanterns, incense burners, flower pavilions, and more. Each was accompanied by eight matching embroidered parasols, creating a vibrant and splendid display. Further back was a coffin, borne by no fewer than thirty-two pallbearers. A long line of filial sons and grandsons, dressed in mourning clothes, followed, weeping. Beside them, others carried paper effigies of people and horses, their numbers even exceeding the mourning family members.

The Daoist priest performed a ritualistic walk, chanting scriptures with rhythmic cadence, swaying his head. To outsiders, he appeared somewhat comical, like a shaman performing a ritual. Suddenly, drums, gongs, and bells resounded in unison, as the procession proceeded noisily towards the river.

Seeing the procession, the old man exclaimed, "Oh dear! Why so early today?" He hurriedly grabbed the boy and was about to step forward.

At that moment, Qin Sang cast a deep glance at the coffin, then suddenly reached out to stop the two. "This humble Daoist wishes to find some food to repay you for guiding the way. I hope, venerable elder, you will not decline."

The old man and the boy, originally eager to attend the funeral, were somehow bewildered. They turned with Qin Sang and, with normal expressions, entered a restaurant. Qin Sang ordered some food. The old man and the boy completely forgot their original purpose for the trip and began to eat ravenously.

Qin Sang held his wine cup, his gaze passing through the window. He could clearly see the Daoist leading the procession, continuing along the riverside road until they stopped in front of a stone-carved shrine. The shrine was only half a person's height and contained no idol, only a spirit tablet, which Qin Sang presumed was the divine seat of the White Dragon Lord. The Daoist instructed his attendants to set up the incense altar and offerings, placed the soul-summoning banner before the altar, and then stood in front of the offerings, performing ritualistic steps and chanting scriptures. The gongs and drums fell silent, and the filial sons and grandsons stopped their weeping. Only the faint echoes of bells resonated over the river.

He understood the meaning of the scriptures the Daoist was chanting: a penitential ritual for the deceased, inviting the White Dragon Lord to enter the altar, bear witness, guide the departed, and absolve their transgressions. The Daoist's ritual was meticulously performed, flowing smoothly, certainly enough to impress mortals. However, after a long time, Qin Sang detected no fluctuations on the river surface or within the shrine.

Just then, a commotion suddenly erupted within the procession. The Daoist glanced back, a displeased expression on his face. Just as he was about to scold them, he heard a "thump-thump-thump" sound.

*Crack!* An iron nail, fixed to a corner of the coffin lid, flew off. The Daoist's face turned pale. He gathered his robes and bolted. The others were even more terrified, screaming, "Oh no! It's reanimated! It's reanimated!"

*Boom!* The coffin exploded. Wood fragments scattered as a dark shadow burst out, lunging wildly at the nearest person. It resembled a human but was covered in green fur on its face.

White Dragon Ford erupted in an uproar. At that moment, Qin Sang's arm, holding the wine cup, paused slightly. His gaze, which had been sweeping across the lone peak on the opposite bank and a marshland outside White Dragon Ford, abruptly retracted, now fixed on the shrine's divine tablet.