Bo Jinling stumbled out of the Ghost Gate, his gauze robes in tatters, streaked with blood.
He had no time to tend to himself and rushed straight towards the shrine. The bronze temple lay in ruins, leaving only a clay idol with a face blurred beyond recognition.
Bo Jinling cried out in a trembling voice, “Venerable God!”
The shrine remained motionless. Bo Jinling hastily covered the statue with a red cloth and reverently lit a stick of incense.
The tendril of smoke rose and was absorbed by the statue; its clay chest rose and fell as though breathing.
Bo Jinling let out a breath of relief, wiped the sweat from his brow, and murmured in confusion, “Venerable God, what is that boy’s origin? Such a terrifying power of karma… if not for Your Excellency’s swift hand, I fear……”
The statue, heavily damaged, was silent for a long time before a hoarse voice rasped, [It may be… that one.]
Bo Jinling was of the statue’s divine disciple, with their fates were bound together. One harmed and both would suffer. That was why the deity had fought to preserve him.
For seven years Bo Jinling had followed the god in cultivating the Divine Path. He had heard many secret tales of the heavens and learned much of the calamities of ten thousand years past, yet never had he heard his god speak in such a tone.
Bo Jinling frowned. “Could it be one of the Four Supreme Gods?”
The statue’s expression darkened. [If it were them, would we have been able to make it out?]
Bo Jinling faltered. He had heard of the ancient divinities: the Three Mountain Emperors, the Ten True Lords, the Five Direction Goddesses.
But above these stood four even older gods. Time had worn away their titles; their names were no longer spoken in the mortal realm, their memory all but erased.
He had heard his god mention them only once before.
The statue seemed to brood in silence, then sighed with a grim weight. [When those beings rise again, you will learn soon enough. But no matter. I shall tell you now, so you may keep your guard!]
Bo Jinling immediately bowed. “Venerable God, please instruct me.”
[The Four Supreme Gods,]the statue intoned, [were annihilated within the Great Dao itself. They were the first of all gods to fall, and there is no hope of their resurrection.]
Bo Jinling asked, “Then… they are dead?”
The statue did not answer directly. [Over ten millennia ago, a great calamity overturned the world. The Xianghuo gods exhausted their fates in the Divine War and all perished, repaying their karmic debts to all living things.]
[Yet among them were a few who owed no debt at all. They left behind faint traces of Xianghuo power, enough to preserve their divine kingdoms, lingering on in half-life.]
Bo Jinling’s curiosity stirred. “Venerable God, whom do you mean?”
The statue gave a low snort seemingly in part resentment, part regret, with a trace of unwilling awe. He dared not utter their sacred titles, but said instead: [The Great Golden Crow God, the Moon God Taiyin True Lord, and one who became the Nine-Curved Yellow River itself…]
As he went on, his tone turned to bitter mockery. [But surviving by chance is not always fortune. Under the ceaseless watch of the Heavenly Dao cultivators, let alone resurrection… even a wisp of divine thought would be strangled at once. The high gods have their own miseries, hoho]
Bo Jinling, who had long practised the way of divinity, knew better than to speak carelessly; even metaphors could court disaster. Still, worry flickered across his face. “Venerable God, could that youth be the disciple of one of these beings?”
The statue replied, [Unlikely.]
[The Golden Lotus Dao image… it reminds me of another. The Goddess of the Great Loch. In those days, one hundred thousand cultivators, seven Immortal Lords, and a single Great Emperor brought bloodshed to her domain, slaying countless divine servants, yet never truly erasing her.]
[I myself, fleeing through Mount Guye, caught a glimpse of that goddess once.]
His tone carried both nostalgia and chill. [Then, I never imagined she would fall… not until she yielded of her own accord, and was struck down utterly, body and soul alike.]
Bo Jinling frowned. “She yielded?”
The statue answered vaguely. [Yes. She ceased resistance. But gods born with heaven and earth are ancient beyond measure; their paths are unlike ours. Perhaps her fall was itself part of her cultivation. She left behind her divine kingdom. And as long as that kingdom endures, she endures.]
Bo Jinling asked carefully, “Venerable God… do you too have your own divine kingdom?”
The statue was silent for a long time before replying coldly, [Now the heavens are in great upheaval; the immortal path stands open, and the signs of divine revival abound. Among mortals they say: Thirty years east of the river, thirty years to the west. Mock not a poor god!]
[The world today is not what it was ten thousand years ago. Were the old gods truly so superior to the new?]
[Jinling, it is you now who may stir the winds of this world.]
A fierce ambition rose within Bo Jinling. He said fervently, “Venerable God, we have been too slow, too cautious. Since the world itself is stirring once more, you must awaken swiftly to seize that one thread of fate! Jinling is willing to offer sacrifices for you and to die without regret!”
The statue gave a hoarse chuckle. [Your karma is bound to mine. We share honour and disgrace alike. Go, and act as you see fit. Only avoid that one.]
Bo Jinling bowed his head in assent. The exhausted deity partook of fresh blood, then fell into a deep, dreamless slumber to recover.
Bo Jinling walked deeper into the cavern. It was utterly dark, but his eyes were untroubled by shadow.
From the vast underground lake came a low dragon’s groan. A black shape swam slowly through the water.
Bo Jinling’s bells jingled as he called several times. Only his echo answered.
Disappointed, he shook the bell again. The enormous shadow stirred and drifted closer.
Bo Jinling waded into the water. “Ah-Mu, are you hurt? Let me see your claws.”
The golden dragon opened his gilded eyes, cold and remote.
The blood-red in his gaze had faded, leaving only weariness and ice-cold indifference. “Get out.”
Bo Jinling’s face lit with joy; he nearly covered his mouth to keep from crying out.
He wiped at his tears, pressed his cheek against the dragon’s head, nuzzling him again and again. “Ah-Mu, Ah-Mu. It’s been over four years, and this is the first time you’ve spoken to me.”
The dragon’s exhaled malice blackened the water. The golden dragon shut his eyes in disgust; his heavy breath washed over Bo Jinling’s cold legs, radiating his pent-up fury.
Bo Jinling stroked the dragon’s scales tenderly, tracing circles with his fingers as he kicked up little splashes. “What do those mortals matter? Forget them. I’ll take you to do things you enjoy. I’ll make you happy, all right?”
The dragon’s killing aura grew heavier still.
He opened his eyes again. Cold mockery flickering within.
Bo Jinling’s expression shifted; a smile neither tender nor sane curved his lips. He clung to the dragon’s head. “You… Don’t you like it?”
Without a word, the dragon withdrew into the depths. The sudden surge sent Bo Jinling sprawling into the water. He rang the bell again, forcing the retreating dragon to return.
Bo Jinling’s voice was flat. “You’re being disobedient.”
Expressionless, he drew out thirty-two bone nails and drove them one by one into their old places.
The golden dragon roared in agony, his gilded eyes turning crimson once more; the once-clear lake churned to mud.
Kneeling in the dark water, Bo Jinling embraced the dragon’s head, whispering feverishly, “Those mortals don’t matter, Ah-Mu. I’m the only one who matters. For me, you must kill them. Abandon them.”
“I’ll make you immortal. I’ll ride you all the way to the highest heavens.”
“Cloud and mist rise from the sea at dawn… and I shall ride the dragon across the spring river.”
“Okay?”
The golden dragon remained silent, as if he hadn’t heard.
Bo Jinling sighed softly, remembering the first time he came here. Sitting at the foot of the mountain, eating a bowl of tangyuan, listening to the mortals and passing travellers boast about how powerful their mountain god was.
Bo Jinling had chuckled quietly. None of those mortals could see that, lying upon a century-old apricot tree beside the tea stall, was a peerlessly handsome young man.
He reclined with one leg propped up, utterly at ease. On closer look, the youth had a horn upon his forehead, skin like polished jade, and dark, cold eyes that nonetheless carried a flicker of curiosity and amusement.
Bo Jinling pretended not to notice him. The youth, in turn, secretly lowered his tail. It was wreathed with a small auspicious cloud, and coiled up one of the glutinous rice dumplings boiling in the pot.
Bo Jinling never found out how that dumpling tasted, for the youth vanished right after.
He later built a thatched hut deep in the mountains and lived alone, posing as a wandering herbalist.
The young man never appeared again. Bo Jinling planted herbs at his door and built a swing, going out early and returning late each day.
More than a year passed.
One winter, he went out to gather white barley and lost his way amidst the snow.
He wandered the mountains until dusk, as the snow fell heavier and the sky darkened. The howling of wild beasts echoed all around. Just when he was at his wits’ end, he caught sight of a young man in purple robes not far ahead.
The snow was beautiful, but the man was even more so.
Bo Jinling couldn’t help walking towards him, yet no matter how far he went, the distance never closed. Step by step, he followed the figure out of the mountains, all the way back to his hut.
Then the young man disappeared again.
Bo Jinling thought for a moment, went into the kitchen, and brought out a steaming bowl of sesame tangyuan.
He placed it on a wooden post outside, in the snow.
When the flakes had stopped falling, Bo Jinling exhaled into his hands for warmth and ran back indoors without looking out again. The next morning, the bowl was still there… but two dumplings were gone.
Bo Jinling smiled so wide his teeth showed, gazing at the mountains and forests around him. “Thank you! Come by again when you’ve the time!”
Bo Jinling had always been patient. He spent four years guarding that place, meeting the golden dragon six times. Each time was from a distance, never close.
But the dragon must have cared for him, though too proud or shy to admit it.
Bo Jinling too felt a quiet ache in his heart, yet his ambition for greatness meant he could never truly return that affection.
He prepared for a long time, laying formations across the entire mountain. At last, deep within the mountain’s heart, he captured the golden dragon, poisoned him, and turned him into a divine guardian spirit.
He hadn’t been without pain or regret.
But the dragon was with him now. It didn’t matter. He would make it up to him. He understood the dragon’s suffering; he bore it in his own heart. And when the day of ascension came, he was certain the dragon would not blame him.
Bo Jinling, full of tenderness, held the dragon in his arms and remained silent for a long time.
…
Demon Realm, Snow Maple Mountain.
The wind roared atop the peak, stirring the countless red maples into a trembling sea of scarlet leaves.
A solitary, graceful figure stood on a maple leaf, floating with the breeze. A white tiger sipped tea nearby and said with a grin, “Your [Supreme Freedom Technique] grows ever more refined.”
The figure didn’t reply, gazing coldly at the setting sun.
Feathers like those of a peacock adorned his temples, his skin whiter than snow, his features so finely drawn they might have belonged to ink and colour on silk. He appeared so beautiful that one could hardly tell whether he was man or woman.
He folded his arms and said icily, “I’m grown now. You should let me leave the mountain.”
The white tiger lifted its gaze. “And where will you go?”
“To the mortal world,” the young man replied.
The tiger narrowed its eyes and glanced up at the sky, as though reading some hidden sign. After a pause, it smiled faintly. “Very well. I’ll keep my word. But this journey to the mortal realm may prove crucial for our demon race. You know the weight of what you carry.”
The young man gave a short, scornful laugh. “I don’t need your advice. I know what I’m doing.”
His gaze was cold, his thoughts unreadable.
[Xiao Yun-gege]
A child’s smiling face suddenly appeared before his eyes. Then the image of him bleeding from nose and mouth, his spiritual platform shattered, cast down to the mortal world.
Xue Cuo.
The young man’s long lashes drooped, shadowing the starlight in his eyes. A trace of wistfulness flickered across his brow.
Where are you? Are you well?
I’ve come to find you.
