Chapter Forty-Seven: The Guardian of the Tomb

Grandfather did not refute Daoist Li’s understanding; it seemed he was correct—this was indeed my grandfather’s design. Yet, what purpose lay behind his arrangement, I could not fathom.

As for the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng, I knew so little. Aside from my grandfather mentioning that Weiyang lived there, and that perhaps the life I once lost had been borrowed from that place, there was little else. Thus, the heart of the matter circled back once more to the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng.

Daoist Li had stated that the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng was a burial ground, though he did not know whose tomb it was. My grandfather, being the Mountain God of Old Boundary Ridge, might know, so I asked him.

After pondering for a moment, Grandfather said, “This question, I fear, must be put to your wife. Only she knows the truth. Though I am the Mountain God, I have held this post but a few centuries. That tomb predates my tenure—it has stood for over a thousand years.”

Upon hearing this, Daoist Li was taken aback. “Wait, let me ask—who is Lin Yi’s wife, and why would she know the secret of the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng?”

I had never told Daoist Li the details of my marriage, nor had he asked. After all, ours was a union of yin and yang, and I remembered him speaking of a catastrophic fate between such couples. Instinctively, I did not wish to discuss it with him, for in his eyes, a union defying the laws of heaven ought not exist.

So, when Grandfather spoke of my wife, I felt a twinge of concern. Daoist Li was formidable; I feared he might harm Weiyang.

Yet Grandfather made no move to conceal the truth. He said directly, “Have you ever heard the name Ye Weiyang?”

“The guardian of the tomb within the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng, in the place called Guicang?” Daoist Li replied with a question of his own.

“That is correct,” Grandfather confirmed.

For the first time, I saw genuine shock on Daoist Li’s face. Usually, he was as calm as the clouds, unmoved by anything. This time, his reaction revealed just how momentous this matter was to him.

But my thoughts diverged from theirs. Only now did I learn that Weiyang was the tomb guardian of the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng, and that the tomb itself was over a millennium old. If she was its guardian, had she too existed for more than a thousand years?

“Mr. Lin, are you sure you’re not mistaken? Lin Yi truly married the tomb guardian?” Daoist Li still could not quite believe it; to him, it seemed impossible.

“How could I be mistaken? Do not forget, I am the Mountain God of Old Boundary Ridge. Naturally, I presided over their wedding myself; there is no error in this. If not for someone shielding the secrets of heaven that day, that wedding would never have gone so smoothly,” Grandfather explained.

“So, the one who lent Lin Yi a life was the tomb guardian herself. And this life, brought from Guicang, might well be that of the master of the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng?” Daoist Li’s analysis mirrored my own earlier thoughts, and I awaited Grandfather’s confirmation.

“That’s right. That’s how it is,” Grandfather replied, not denying a word.

“Mr. Lin, you are truly a figure for the ages, a man of astonishing vision. I, Li Nanhua, am full of admiration!” With that, Daoist Li clasped his hands and bowed to my grandfather.

Grandfather returned the gesture, saying, “Whether this endeavor succeeds or fails, it all hinges on this one gamble. Daoist Li, would you be interested in aiding us?”

Even Niu Dahuang joined Grandfather in saluting Daoist Li.

Daoist Li did not answer immediately, and I did not understand what it would mean if he were to accept Grandfather’s request.

Later, I learned that Daoist Li was a disciple of Dragon Tiger Mountain, and not just any disciple, but the chief disciple of the sect leader. In all likelihood, he would one day become the head of Dragon Tiger Mountain himself. Everything pointed toward that future.

However, if he accepted my grandfather’s request for aid, it would mean turning his back on Dragon Tiger Mountain and standing against the orthodox Daoist sects—a move that would bring him scorn and ridicule from all. In truth, my grandfather’s request was already crossing a line.

Sensing this, Grandfather quickly said, “Daoist Li, do not trouble yourself with this. I merely voiced my thoughts. Whatever you choose, even if we one day meet as enemies, we shall remain friends at heart.”

At that moment, Daoist Li suddenly smiled. He reached up, removed the green jade hairpin from his topknot, and let his black hair fall like a cascade of ink. With a crisp snap, he shattered the jade hairpin in his hand.

This jade hairpin was a token from the sect leader of Dragon Tiger Mountain, symbolizing his status as chief disciple. I had not expected him to break with his past so decisively.

“The ways of the Daoist sects have long displeased me. Today, seeing such honesty from an old friend, how could I refuse? Mr. Lin, I, Li Nanhua, will share this fate with you!” His words stirred my heart as I listened. No wonder, on our journey here, he had told me that the Daoist world was soaked in blood. He was indeed different from the rest.

“With such aid, I am forever grateful!” Grandfather exclaimed, dropping to one knee to salute Daoist Li.

But Daoist Li quickly helped him up. “Now that we are family, there’s no need for such ceremony. According to the sects’ plans, all the Daoist factions will gather at Old Boundary Ridge tomorrow. I am to perform a bonding ritual with the head of the Maoshan Sect and discuss an alliance. When the time comes, I will make sure to retrieve the Mountain God’s Command for you!”

But Grandfather waved his hand, “No need. The Mountain God’s Command in Maoshan’s hands may yet fulfill its greatest potential.”

Niu Dahuang asked, “Old Lin, what do you mean? With Daoist Li’s skills, he could easily retrieve it.”

“You must know, the Mountain God’s Command is the key to unlocking the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng. Since we know this, let all the other sects know as well. Even the underworld and Kunlun Ruins should be informed. Given the nature of the Daoist sects, would they willingly let Maoshan control the Command alone?” Grandfather’s voice was calm, his analysis revealing the depth of his cunning.

As the Mountain God, Grandfather was able to command all the creatures in the mountain with even a hint of spiritual power. When the rat spirits encountered him, they dared not resist—his status was absolute.

By the next day, word reached us from the forests.

The various factions had begun to enter the mountains. With Maoshan holding the Mountain God’s Command, they used it to swiftly locate the general area of the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng and had already established their encampment.

Once the other sects realized this, they set their sights on the Mountain God’s Command. From last night to this morning, two skirmishes had erupted in the woods.

The first was between Dragon Tiger Mountain and Maoshan; the second, between Lüshan Sect and Maoshan. In their clash with Maoshan, neither Dragon Tiger Mountain nor Maoshan gained the upper hand, but with Maoshan’s chief disciple present, Dragon Tiger Mountain could not match them. In the end, Maoshan retained the Mountain God’s Command, while Dragon Tiger Mountain scoured the area in search of their chief disciple—unaware that he was already missing.

Lüshan Sect, being weaker, was utterly crushed by Maoshan. After this defeat, they suffered heavy losses and effectively withdrew from the struggle for the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng. The only major sect yet to make a move was the Quanzhen Sect. They did not vie for the Mountain God’s Command, but instead sent messengers to shadow Maoshan, hoping to locate the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng by stealth.

Thus, both Dragon Tiger Mountain and Maoshan suffered casualties. The only sect to remain unscathed was Quanzhen, whose strength already surpassed the other two.

Besides these great Daoist factions, a few smaller sects also entered the fray, their movements more secretive, avoiding direct conflict.

News from the underworld and Kunlun Ruins had surely reached them as well. The Kunlun Ruins had made no obvious moves so far—perhaps they acted in secret. The underworld’s activities were always mysterious; perhaps they had already made their move, but we remained in the dark.

Upon learning all this, Grandfather said to me, “Lin Yi, it’s time for us to act. We mustn’t keep your wife waiting.”

“We’re heading to the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng now?” I asked.

“Indeed.”

Grandfather’s words filled me with excitement, for this place was essentially Weiyang’s ancestral home. I was deeply curious about what kind of place she called home.

With my grandfather leading the way, reaching the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng was not difficult.

The Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng lived up to its name—thirteen mountain streams, each shrouded in mist, with ancient pines clinging to the cliffs and breathtaking scenery at every turn. Grandfather explained that beneath each stream was a tomb, but only one of them was real.

Beyond the Thirteen Streams of Yunmeng lay a forest, where flowers bloomed in every season. Amidst the blossoms stood a thatched cottage called Guicang.

Grandfather said that was Weiyang’s home.

But this place was forbidden to the living, for it was covered in red spider lilies—the very flowers that lined the Yellow Springs Road in the underworld. It was said that if any living person touched a blooming spider lily, it would be as if they stepped onto the Yellow Springs Road itself, their soul torn from their body.

Grandfather warned that only I could enter Guicang—no one else, or they would meet their end among the flowers. Even I, no matter what happened, must never touch those crimson blooms.

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