Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wilderness Chapter Seventy-Six: The Serpent Transforms into a Dragon

Noon.

In the distance, a solitary figure approached.

He wore a bamboo hat, his clothes were tattered and threadbare, and he carried a wooden staff in his hand as he walked alone along the countryside road.

Though it was early autumn, the weather remained oppressively hot; traveling beneath the scorching sun was an arduous trial.

Ahead, a small river appeared.

He quickened his pace to reach the water’s edge, tossed aside his staff, crouched down, and scooped a handful of river water to drink. The coolness seeped into his bones, reviving his tired spirit. Just then, a carriage rumbled up behind him, splashing through the shallow water and sending droplets flying onto his clothes. He slowly raised his head, revealing a youthful face beneath the battered hat—still touched with innocence. Watching the carriage disappear, and gazing at the familiar riverbank and the small town ahead, a trace of helplessness and anxiety flickered in his eyes.

Once again, Yu Ye had returned to Lingjiao Town.

His appearance now was much the same as that of a boy from the mountains. But his situation was far more perilous than before. He was both fleeing pursuit and investigation, and yet, compelled by danger, he had to make this journey back to Lingjiao Town.

He did so because of his promise to Bai Zhi.

Unable to find a mount in the woods outside Lingjiao Valley, Yu Ye headed straight for the town. To disguise himself, he changed into ragged clothes as he passed through a mountain village, found an old hat and a stick for fending off dogs, and made himself look like a wandering youth. Even the iron ring on his hand was wrapped in tattered cloth. The ruse worked—he drew little attention on his way, and even the wandering martial artists he encountered ignored him.

Yu Ye shook the water from his hands and picked up his stick. Looking down at his dusty clothes and worn boots, and at the riverside before him, his mind drifted back to last winter’s hunt; he could only shake his head.

If fate truly existed, then his seemed destined to go in endless circles, ever-changing and uncertain.

Yu Ye took off his boots and waded across the river.

Lingjiao Town was tiny, with just one inn and a few shops. At noontime, the dirt road was almost deserted.

Familiar with the town, Yu Ye first visited the pharmacy and the general store, buying a jar of cinnabar and two wolf-hair brushes. Soon after, he stopped before a courtyard.

Beneath the large tree at the gate hung a tattered banner, embroidered with the words “Flying Dragon.” Beside it, in smaller script, was written: “Guests from all directions bring changing fortunes; when the flood dragon rises, it soars as a dragon.”

This was the town’s inn: the Flying Dragon Inn. Yu Ye had passed by it several times before, never paying attention—after all, he couldn’t read, and had no idea the banner bore such meaning.

In folk tales, it was said the flood dragon could transform into a true dragon. Naming an inn “Flying Dragon” was likely for luck and prosperity.

To the left of the courtyard gate were several rooms, serving as the inn’s entrance hall and tavern.

Inside, a few diners sat eating.

The innkeeper, an old man well past fifty, dozed at the counter, while a young attendant of about twenty approached, waving impatiently, “No begging here, move along!”

Yu Ye had not even stepped inside when he was driven off. Dressed as he was, he truly did look like a beggar. He produced a piece of silver, but before he could speak, the attendant’s face lit up in a welcoming smile, “Honored guest, this way please—”

“The Heaven Second Room, for seven days.”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate—the Heaven Second Room is already taken.”

“A young woman?”

“Well now, how did you know, young master? That lady paid a year’s rent in advance, and though she’s not been seen for months, we mustn’t break the inn’s rules. But the neighboring Third Room is vacant, if you’d care to…”

Yu Ye paid for the room and followed the attendant out of the tavern.

The inn’s courtyard was spacious. To either side, five or six stone rooms stood in rows. In the northeast corner, the third room was the Heaven Third Room.

Yu Ye paused before his door, eyes gleaming beneath the brim of his hat.

Most inns were much the same, only varying in size and luxury. This one had few guests, and the empty courtyard was especially quiet.

Next door was the Heaven Second Room, its door locked and apparently unused for some time. According to the innkeeper, it was reserved for a woman—presumably Bai Zhi—who had vanished since her last stay.

Yu Ye turned and entered his own room.

The furnishings were sparse: a wooden bed with a thin mattress, and a stool and table both dusty with neglect. At least the window by the door let in light and air, sparing the place some of its gloom.

He locked the door, set aside his hat and stick, and sat heavily on the bed.

Bai Zhi’s room was just a wall away. Even without extending his senses, he could have noticed any movement inside. If she returned, he would know at once.

But what if she never returned?

If so, he might never be able to repay the debt he owed her.

First, outside Xingyuan Valley, she had risked her life to save him; later, in Lingjiao Valley, she ventured alone to rescue him from danger. In Yu Family Village, such a debt was greater than heaven itself. Yu Ye feared nothing—except owing money or favors.

Alas, whatever would come, he would keep the promise and wait here for seven days!

He drew out a spirit stone and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

At dusk, the attendant knocked, saying food had arrived and bringing a lamp. Yu Ye refused, claiming he was unwell and needed rest. The attendant, unconcerned, left him alone.

Night fell and the room was wrapped in darkness. As the long night faded, dawn broke, then dusk returned once more...

Another afternoon arrived.

Yu Ye awoke from meditation, eyes flashing with energy, but as he looked at the crumbled spirit stone in his palm, his mood sank.

Absorbing one spirit stone had cost him five days of effort. Yet after five days, the room next door remained silent.

Could something have happened to Bai Zhi?

What troubled him was not only concern for her safety, but also his own stalled cultivation.

Each time he absorbed a spirit stone, his energy surged, his mind cleared, and he felt invigorated—but only briefly. In a real fight, he quickly ran out of strength. Worse, his cultivation seemed stalled. He feared that even after exhausting all his spirit stones, he would make no progress. If that were true, he would end up like the ancestors of the Yan family, old Granny Hong, or Mo Can—training their whole lives in vain.

It wasn’t that he dreamed of becoming some great immortal or sage—he just wanted to avoid being bullied or hunted by Bu Yi, and not have to flee for his life.

Yet his lack of progress was deeply discouraging.

Yu Ye shook his head and stood up.

Well, tomorrow’s worries could wait for tomorrow.

For now, he had to focus on staying alive, and his best means of survival was the Armor-Breaking Talisman.

He wiped the dust from the stool and table, set out his sword, a ceramic bowl, a wine jug, snakeskin, cinnabar, wolf-hair brushes, and a piece of snakeskin, then rolled up his sleeves and sat down.

He poured cinnabar and strong wine into the bowl, and used his sword to slice open the forefinger of his left hand.

He pressed too hard and blood welled up. Gritting his teeth, he filled half the bowl before hastily stopping the bleeding, channeling his energy to heal the wound. Even so, he felt dizzy from blood loss.

But for the sake of a more effective Armor-Breaking Talisman, what was a bowl of blood, if it meant survival?

Yu Ye steadied his mind, cut a sheet of snakeskin to the size of a talisman, and kneaded each piece with his energy. An hour later, nine talisman-shaped pieces of snakeskin lay on the table before him. After a short rest, he dipped the wolf-hair brush into the blood-red cinnabar, charged the tip with his energy, and drew the talisman diagrams he had long envisioned...

Half an hour later, the nine talismans were complete.

He had exhausted his supply of cinnabar.

Yu Ye picked up his sword, preparing to draw more blood to make more cinnabar.

Every extra talisman was another life preserved. He wanted to turn the remaining snakeskin into as many life-saving talismans as possible.

But just as he was about to cut himself again, a sharp voice rang out in his mind—

"Stop!"

“Huh?”

Perhaps it had been too long since he’d heard that familiar voice; for a moment, Yu Ye didn’t understand.

“Are you deaf? Put down the sword, do you have a death wish?”

Jiao Ying!

After half a year of silence, she finally spoke.

Yu Ye was overjoyed, quickly reassuring her, “Don’t worry, I’m just making Armor-Breaking Talismans...”

But before he could finish, a storm of rebuke came crashing down—

“Heavens, I’ve seen masters forge talismans, but never anyone so desperate as to shed this much blood! Half a bowl of essence blood—this isn’t talisman-making, it’s suicide! And it’s not just your life you’re squandering—it’s your cultivation. A single drop of essence blood is worth ten spirit stones. Yet you’re so generous—why not give me half a bowl to sample?”

Yu Ye dropped his sword, a chill running down his spine.

No wonder he’d felt so weak and exhausted lately—he’d been draining too much of his essence blood. If he kept this up, as Jiao Ying said, he’d lose not only his chance to improve, but his very life.

Yet he had little choice in crafting talismans this way—he had no master, no guidance, and could only fumble his way through. At least the Armor-Breaking Talismans had proven effective; if half a bowl of blood bought him a life, he had survived—otherwise Jiao Ying wouldn’t be here to scold him.

After the initial panic, Yu Ye calmed himself and retorted, “If you knew all this, why didn’t you warn me?”

Not waiting for a reply, he continued bitterly, “I don’t understand cultivation methods. I’ve gone astray so many times—where were you? Surrounded by enemies, my life hanging by a thread—where were you? When my energy ran dry and I faced a master, trapped with no escape—where were you? It’s easy to scold, but do you know how I’ve survived all this?”

“My, my! The boy has grown up—he can reason and talk back!”

Jiao Ying’s tone suddenly softened, though she still spoke with conviction.

“I have to cultivate too, or how would I have the strength to look after you? And the most dangerous moments for you were not when you were surrounded or facing Bu Yi, nor when your energy was spent—do you know when?”

“I—”

“The greatest danger was when you were in the company of a beautiful woman. If she had unleashed her true energy, she could have taken your life in an instant!”

“Bai Zhi means me no harm!”

“Tsk, are you pretending, or just fooling yourself?”

At that moment, a horse neighed in the courtyard, followed instantly by a burst of voices...