Qin Huai Enters the Sea

The next day, everything Zhu Yuanzhang had requested was delivered in full to Taicheng.

It was escorted personally by that dark-skinned waiter.

"Our stations are different; I can only take you this far."

"No need to see me off."

Zhu Yuanzhang cupped his hands in a salute.

"Many thanks, Zen Master."

As they parted, Huzi blinked at him.

He shoved a cloth bag into the cuff of Zhu Yuanzhang's sleeve.

Then, he jumped onto the carriage and vanished in a flash.

Zhu Yuanzhang took out the bag and found an ingot of silver inside.

He felt a bit amused.

Yet, he was also somewhat moved.

In all the time he had been in this world, this was the first time he had felt such pure goodwill.

As per usual, the Taicheng garrison commander checked Zhu Yuanzhang's waist token before letting him in.

It was still the Zen Courtyard that reeked of blood beneath the miniature nine-story Pagoda.

This time, he did not run into the black-robed man with the armored guards who had emerged from the Pagoda.

Pushing open the vermilion-painted nanmu gate, Zhu Yuanzhang led his donkey into the Zen Courtyard.

But before he could even announce his name, he caught the scent of a pungent, bloody stench.

It drifted from the three Zen rooms lined up before him.

Although it was currently high noon, the time when the sun was at its most fierce.

Yet, rows upon rows of candles were lit inside the three Zen rooms before him.

The shadows of the monks sitting on the prayer mats in the center of the rooms were cast against the walls.

They were massive and distorted.

Zhu Yuanzhang narrowed his eyes.

He tied his donkey in the courtyard.

He unloaded the goods.

He deliberately made quite a bit of noise.

However, the three monks inside the Zen rooms acted as if they had heard nothing at all.

The black silhouettes on the windows remained motionless, not even revealing a hint of breath.

They were like three desiccated corpses that had been dead for many days.

By the time Zhu Yuanzhang finished dawdling through these tasks, half an hour had already passed.

"Disciple Minghe pays respects to the three Martial Uncles."

Zhu Yuanzhang stood in the courtyard and spoke toward the figures in the rooms.

"Come in, Minghe."

An aged voice drifted eerily from the center Zen room.

The shadows in the room remained motionless, the voice sounding as if it had appeared out of thin air.

"You have mastered the Three Divine Incantations; did Fahui send you?"

"Indeed."

Zhu Yuanzhang responded calmly, yet mindful of Fahui's warning, his feet remained rooted to the spot, with no intention of pushing the door open to enter.

"There is no need for suspicion; Junior Brother Fahui has always been at odds with me."

Seeing that Zhu Yuanzhang had yet to push the door open, the voice from the Zen room came again.

"He must have spoken ill of me before you parted."

"But since you have mastered the Three Divine Incantations, you are the final hope for the legacy of our Tongtai Temple."

"How could I possibly wish you harm?"

The stench of blood permeating the Zen rooms grew even more intense with the words of the monk in the central room.

Zhu Yuanzhang remained motionless.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye toward the other two Zen rooms.

"The little monk isn't stupid, after all."

From the left, a voice drifted out, though it sounded much younger than the aged voice in the central Zen room.

"If you were to step even half a step into Senior Brother Fajue's meditation room, I fear you would become the blood-offering he uses to cling to the Xiao Liang dragon vein and prolong his wretched existence the very next second!"

"What does Uncle-Master mean by this?"

Zhu Yuanzhang bowed deeply toward the meditation room on the left and asked.

He completely ignored the murmurs coming from the central meditation room.

It seemed he had already fully believed the words of the monk in the left room.

"Has Fahui told you the origin of the Qinhuai River?"

"Faming..."

The monk in the central meditation room let out a long, lingering sigh, tinged with a hint of irritation, and spoke.

"Must you insist on opposing me?"

A vast amount of blood spread throughout the meditation room, with fragments of black fabric floating within it.

Zhu Yuanzhang recognized at a glance that these fragments were of the same material as the clothes worn by the black-robed man he had seen earlier, surrounded by armored soldiers.

Behind him, the courtyard gate slammed shut with a bang.

It blocked off Zhu Yuanzhang's path of escape.

"Dingguang Demon-Subduing..."

Zhu Yuanzhang clenched his fists and whispered.

Flames rose from beneath Zhu Yuanzhang's feet, forming a circle made of fire.

"Interesting. To cultivate both the Mountain-Shrinking Fist and the Dingguang Demon-Subduing True Technique—two conflicting arts—it seems Fahui intends to let you—"

The tone of the monk in the left meditation room held a hint of surprise.

But the sentence stopped abruptly halfway through.

"However, it is only the first level of the Dingguang Demon-Subduing True Fire; it still lacks the necessary heat. Even if you burn through your entire lifespan, I fear it will not hold back my senior brother for long."

The words of the monk in the left meditation room gradually turned to pity.

The scarlet, icy blood had already breached the True Fire and washed over Zhu Yuanzhang's ankles.

Within the surging blood, countless things resembling water weeds or hair tightly gripped Zhu Yuanzhang's legs, attempting to drag him toward the meditation room.

"I ask Uncle-Master to enlighten me."

Strands of white hair sprouted from the back of Zhu Yuanzhang's head.

This was a sign of the Dingguang Demon-Subduing True Fire consuming his true essence.

While struggling to resist the pull from Fajue in the central meditation room, Zhu Yuanzhang bowed toward Faming from a distance.

From this brief exchange, facing the overwhelming, mountain-toppling pressure of the red blood tide, Zhu Yuanzhang knew he was by no means Fajue's match.

Therefore, his tone remained unhurried as he used this final opportunity to ask.

"Why does Uncle-Master Fajue want to kill me, and what does it mean to 'cling to dragon qi'?"

"It is quite simple. Xiao Yan values the Buddhist fortune accumulated by Tongtai Temple over a thousand years, while Tongtai Temple values the Jinling kingly qi intercepted by Xiao Yan."

"That is why Xiao Yan sought to sacrifice himself to Tongtai Temple, and why Xiao Tong died an innocent, sudden death at such a young age."

"So that is how it is..."

Hearing Faming's words, Zhu Yuanzhang fell into deep thought.

Immediately following this, the blood-colored threads beneath his feet exerted sudden force.

The door to the central meditation room swung wide open, revealing the rotting corpse seated upon a prayer mat inside.

Seemingly sensing Zhu Yuanzhang's arrival, the corpse opened its eyes, and countless white maggots fell with a rustling sound.

A joyful smile appeared on the hideous, bone-exposed face that retained only a thin layer of flesh.

[You have died]

"Are there any legends regarding dragon qi concerning the Qinhuai River?"

It was the next day, and they were staying at an inn.

However, before preparing to set off, Zhu Yuanzhang looked at the surging waves of the Qinhuai River outside the window and asked Huzi, who was carrying in hot water.

Upon hearing this, Huzi set down the wooden basin in his hands.

The dark-skinned, sturdy youth leaned against the doorframe, thought carefully for a moment, and gave a definitive answer.

"There actually is one."

"Does the guest know what this place was called before Jiankang was known as Jinling?"

Zhu Yuanzhang shook his head.

"I don't know."

"It's called Moling. They say it was changed by some alchemists who visited this place during the Qin Dynasty, but before it was called Moling, the people of Chu had already named it Jinling."

Huzi spoke with ease and confidence.

"King Wei of Chu climbed Lion Mountain to observe the dragon aura of the Qinhuai River, so he specifically buried a massive amount of gold along both banks of the Qinhuai River to suppress the local fortune, which is how the name Jinling came to be... though in the thousands of years since, no one has ever dug up any gold from Jinling."

Huzi shrugged as he said this, cracking a joke.

"If this story were true, perhaps that batch of gold buried by King Wei of Chu during the Warring States period is still beneath Jinling today. If someone actually dug it up, they would truly strike it rich."

The speaker meant nothing by it, but the listener took it to heart.

Zhu Yuanzhang silently noted this "rumor" in his heart.

"As for Moling, that was a much later affair."

"You might not know, guest."

Huzi walked to the window and pointed at the surging torrent of the Qinhuai River as it poured into the Yangtze River, saying.

"Before the Qin, the Qinhuai River did not flow into the Yangtze River..."