Roaring Dragon-Chapter 102: Blood Oath

On the other side—in Dan Province.

At midday, in a bamboo grove behind Danyang Academy, a white stone chess table had been set.

Seated on the right side of the table was Mu Yunling, dressed in a Confucian robe. Broad-shouldered and solidly built, he looked like a martial artist in his forties or fifties, yet his demeanor was refined and scholarly.

Across from him sat Prince Zhao Xiao of Dan, clad in a dragon-embroidered robe. Though also dignified in bearing, he appeared a notch less imposing compared to Mu Yunling. After contemplating the board for a long time, he finally placed a piece.

“The Hidden Immortal Sect has raised such a gifted disciple—yet Mister Mu has heard nothing at all?”

Mu Yunling, only a few years younger than Lu Wuzhen and his peers, was already eighty-four. He had studied under Ye Ci, the "Twin Sages of Sword and Scroll," and was the martial brother of Fan Li, the Grand Libationer of the Imperial Academy. Mu inherited the “Sword,” while Fan Li took up the “Scroll.”

As one of the Confucian Order’s dual-wielding red sticks, Mu Yunling was originally based in the capital. After the Dan Prince was granted his fief in Danyang, Mu was reassigned to the academy—half to ensure the prince’s safety, and half as a political monitor.

To avoid the court accusing him of colluding with the Dan Prince, the prince normally kept a distance. But today’s visit was to discuss a few delicate matters.

“I’m not close with those people from the Hidden Immortal Sect,” Mu said, eyes still on the board, “but I asked an elder about it the other day. He just said, ‘Everything has a cause and effect.’”

The Dan Prince raised an eyebrow. “And what does that mean?”

“Taken literally, it means Xie Jinhuan’s emergence has roots in the past. Then again, that old man might’ve just been mouthing off. Whatever happens, those words are bound to seem profound in hindsight.”

“Oh... that’s the mark of a true master. Even their nonsense sounds wise.”

...

As the two spoke casually, a sudden gust swept through the bamboo canopy.

Whoosh...

Rustle... rustle... rustle...

The Dan Prince looked up and saw a figure gliding above the green bamboo tops, descending slowly beside the chess table.

She wore a black-and-white Daoist robe and a black gauze veil hat, with a yellow-brown sword case strapped to her back. Her flowing sleeves and veil fluttered in the wind, radiating an otherworldly grace. Her presence was as cold and distant as ice that never melts.

The Dan Prince greeted her warmly.

“It’s been months, and Master Nangong is more ethereal than ever.”

The veiled woman was Nangong Ye, Sect Master of Zihui Mountain—known popularly as the “Number One Beauty of the Daoist World.”

Though famous for her looks, Nangong Ye was no mere flower vase. With the Daoist secrets passed down from Master Qixia and centuries of accumulation at Zihui Mountain, she had long stood as the strongest first-rank cultivator in Daqian.

Landing softly, Nangong Ye offered a formal salute.

“Your Highness summoned me—do you have matters to discuss?”

Her voice was airy and measured, neither rushed nor dragging.

The Dan Prince, ever courteous, gestured for her to sit.

“Nothing urgent. News came from the capital a few days ago. Fanyun Temple submitted a memorial accusing Dan Province of rampant demonic energy. They claim the local sects have failed in their duty and warn of potential threats to the common folk. They propose building a ‘Ziyun Temple’ outside Danyang City, to co-defend the region with the Daoists.”

Nangong Ye took her seat at the side of the chess table and frowned.

“There’s only one blessed spiritual land outside Danyang, and that’s Zihui Mountain. If Fanyun Temple wants in, they’re essentially asking us to surrender our territory.”

The Dan Prince nodded. “That’s exactly what they mean. The Emperor asked for my opinion. Since you’ve just returned, I figured we should talk.”

As the sect leader, there was no way Nangong Ye would cede land to those bald-headed monks. She turned toward Mu Yunling.

“What does Mister Mu think?”

Still focused on the chessboard, Mu Yunling replied nonchalantly, “If it were me, I’d head to Fanyun Temple tomorrow and give those monks a lecture. Once they fully digest The Suppression of Buddhism by Emperor Qiwu, then they can come back.”

The Dan Prince chuckled. “Mister Mu always prefers to win with reason. But since they’re eyeing Zihui Mountain, it wouldn’t be right for you to go. If Master Nangong could go explain Daoist principles to the abbot, I could then reply properly to the court.”

At this point, Nangong Ye understood what today’s meeting was about—the court doubted Zihui Mountain’s ability to safeguard the region. They needed her to prove that her sect remained one of the top three of the Dan Cauldron Daoists—not just a pretty face.

Thanks to the relics passed down from Master Qixia, Nangong Ye normally wouldn’t fear the abbot of Fanyun Temple.

But... she did have a bit of trouble at the moment. And it all started last year.

Right before winter, she went to Fire Phoenix Valley in the southern frontier to wait for a maturing Phoenix Feather Grass.

Bu Yuehua, the Mistress of Missing Moon Manor, was there too. She had similar cultivation, was also a female sect leader, and they’d crossed paths often. Naturally, they both wanted the herb.

Heavenly treasures belong to those capable of seizing them. Since there was only one, the two clashed to decide who would claim it.

Unexpectedly, they both fell into an underground chasm mid-fight.

Beneath Fire Phoenix Valley lay an enormous subterranean world filled with pure Yang energy. It was suspected to be the legendary Vermilion Bird Mausoleum.

Places like this—along with the Flood Dragon Lair in the Eastern Sea and the Wargod Mountain in the Western March—were legendary secret realms teeming with fortune. Wei Wuyi had risen from Wargod Mountain. (As for the tale about selling hooks in the west—that’s just riverside gossip.)

Neither Nangong Ye nor Bu Yuehua wanted to give up the chance. But delving in alone was risky, and neither trusted the other. So they took a blood oath.

Nangong Ye struck Bu Yuehua with a Seven-Star Nail, and Bu Yuehua countered by implanting a Burning Immortal Gu in her. If either of them died, the other would be dragged down too—forcing them to cooperate. Any treasures found would be split 50/50.

Unfortunately, after days of searching, they found nothing but rubble. Bu Yuehua’s Yin-heavy cultivation made it hard to sustain her Qi in such a Yang-rich zone, so they had to leave and discuss reentry.

But Bu Yuehua likely realized she couldn’t delve any deeper and that even if there were treasures, she couldn’t retrieve them. So, she secretly picked the Phoenix Feather Grass and said—

“Now that we’ve sworn a blood oath, we’re basically sisters. The treasures down there are yours. I’ll just take this herb.”

Nangong Ye couldn’t accept that—what if there were treasures? Predictably, the demonic woman bolted.

Nangong Ye chased her for days, but eventually gave up. After all, they were still linked by the blood oath. Sooner or later, that demoness would come crawling back—unable to remove the Seven-Star Nail.

Sure enough, when Bu Yuehua saw Nangong wasn’t backing down, she came to talk reconciliation.

Nangong’s reply was simple: “Hand over the Phoenix Feather Grass. We’ll duel again—winner keeps it.”

Bu Yuehua thought she’d earned the herb by giving up the secret realm and keeping it quiet, so she refused.

Since Nangong got nothing from the tomb, she wouldn’t agree either.

And so, the two of them have been locked in this deadlock from last year till now—bound by their “sisterhood” of mutual destruction.

Though time’s tight, Bu Yuehua’s running out of options too. It’s just a matter of who caves first.

Without breaking the Burning Immortal Gu, Nangong Ye couldn’t face the Fanyun Temple abbot.

Luckily, she’d already tracked down a lead on the Resurrection Grass. Tomorrow she’d meet the mysterious buyer—once she unbound the Gu, that demoness would have no leverage.

But a sect master’s health was sensitive business. If word got out, enemies would pounce.

So when the Dan Prince asked, Nangong Ye simply replied:

“I’ll head to the capital tomorrow to assess the situation. If Fanyun Temple dares push its luck, I’ll teach them what’s what.”

Seeing her so confident, the Dan Prince smiled.

“Good. Ling’er is already on the road—she’ll arrive tomorrow. Qingmo and Xie Jinhuan went ahead a few days ago. That Xie Jinhuan is a rare gem. If Master Nangong has the time, perhaps give him some guidance?”

Nangong Ye had already heard of Xie Jinhuan’s astonishing feats and was curious. She nodded.

“Of course.”

...

Afternoon.

Xie Jinhuan had been dragging Meiqiu and Yang Dabiao around all day, hunting for clues on the Cult of the Underworld God. The results were—predictably—abysmal.

With only nineteen days left, wasting a whole day like this left him deeply anxious.

Linghu Qingmo, being a bit of a workaholic, had nearly forgotten the embarrassment of being kissed by him. Upon their return to the mansion, she saw his troubled expression and tried to comfort him.

“I know you want to slay demons and exorcise evil, but the Cult’s been rooted here for ages. This isn’t something that can be rushed. You’ve already worked hard—it’s just half a day without progress.”

Yang Dabiao was about to lose his legs from all the running. He nodded.

“Exactly! Even investigations need rest. I heard the Young Lord at Changle Street roasted a whole elephant—maybe we could...”

“Guji!”

Meiqiu had never heard of roasted elephant before and immediately perked up.

But Xie Jinhuan still had 5,000 taels of silver uncollected for the week and no time for culinary curiosities. Back in his room, he sat down and pulled out the dossier for the “Haunted Palace Case.”

He’d told Uncle Fei that Zhou Ming’an could wait.

But who knew how long “wait” would be? With someone like that, delaying revenge could get messy fast.

Ye Hongshang, now familiar with his nature, materialized behind him.

“Ready for Round Two?”

He was thinking about it—but frowned.

“Zhou Ming’an’s a major problem. I have to investigate. But I just killed Han Jingchuan yesterday, got this dossier this morning, and if Zhou dies tonight—even Mo Mo will guess it’s me. That’s a mess I don’t need.”

Ye Hongshang, every bit the dutiful ghost-wife, began massaging his shoulders.

“Then make it look like suicide. I’ll hit him with a little hex—he’ll hang himself. The court can’t prosecute a corpse.”

Xie Jinhuan blinked, glancing at the flower-like ghost beside him.

“You can do that?”

Ye Hongshang puffed her chest. “He’s just a civil official. No cultivation. Hexing him’s easier than hypnotizing that prude Wanyi.”

Xie did want to dig deeper into his father’s case. If there was a clean way, why waste time?

He packed up the dossier and stepped outside.

Not far away, Linghu Qingmo was at the round table, diligently writing down the day’s “Jinhuan Quotables.”

Meiqiu, having wandered all day, looked a little tired, slumped over the table watching her write.

Hearing the door creak, Qingmo turned.

“You just got back, and you’re going out again?”

He was going to collect a debt—but he couldn’t say that. Thinking quickly:

“Just stopping by Doctor Lin’s place.”

“?”

Qingmo blinked—her eyes seemed to say, Didn’t you visit her last night too?

But if she told him no, he’d probably crawl into her bed instead...

So after a moment of silence, she said:

“Oh... go ahead. Ling’er will arrive tomorrow—make sure you’re back early.”

He could tell something ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ was off about her expression, but he was heading out to commit murder—couldn’t exactly bring her along.

“Got it. If you get bored, let Meiqiu keep you company.”

“You’re still recovering... make sure Doctor Lin checks you over. Don’t overdo it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

...

Soon, Xie Jinhuan leapt up and vanished into the night.

Qingmo finished writing her notes, sat alone petting Meiqiu, and felt a little restless. She couldn’t focus on training either.

She looked over at the bird.

“What does Xie Jinhuan do when he’s bored?”

“Guji?”

Meiqiu blinked his amber eyes, then lifted a wing and lightly brushed Qingmo’s neck.

She guessed that meant “demon slaying,” so she slung Meiqiu over her shoulder and grabbed her sword, heading out to hunt some evil cultists too.

Meiqiu hadn’t expected to work overtime with her—but if overtime came with snacks, he was all in.