Chapter Twenty-Three: Contest of Spells—Meeting Master Guo, Sworn Kinship

Though the newcomer appeared young, no more than in his early twenties, everyone gathered near the docks—boatmen, laborers, merchants, and crew alike—instinctively stepped aside, clearing a path for him. Officials from all walks of life, both inside and outside the established orders, greeted him with pronounced courtesy; those familiar even clasped their hands in salute and called out to him:

“Master Huang.”

“Lord of the Mirage Tower!”

There was no question—the man was none other than Huang Yuanzhou, the Lord of the Mirage Tower, one of the twenty-four generals serving under the Prince of Maritime Pacification, and the one responsible for guarding Moon Harbor.

Wang Cheng’s gaze flickered when he recognized this acquaintance. He instinctively lowered his eyes, avoiding direct contact lest he betray himself. His father had warned him not to seek shelter with their former allies, suspecting there was a traitor within the Five Peaks Banner.

There weren’t many with the qualifications to be that traitor—perhaps the adopted sons, nephews, the twenty-four generals, or the thirty-six fierce boat leaders.

Now was the perfect opportunity to hide in the shadows and observe Huang Yuanzhou, this youthful general, to see with his own eyes whether he had sworn allegiance to the authorities.

As Huang Yuanzhou strode aggressively onto the dock, the surface of the harbor erupted in churning waves. The giant mirage clams, numbering in the hundreds and usually dormant beneath the water, now gaped their massive shells and awakened.

They surfaced one after another, darting through the harbor at speed, and the water boiled with turbulence, rocking every anchored vessel.

A voice shouted from the pier:

“Make way for the Old Lords! Clear all ships! The Old Lords are crossing Moon Harbor again!”

Boatmen who had remained aboard hurriedly steered their vessels aside, opening a broad swath of water.

Among the onlookers, a few foreign merchants, unfamiliar with local ways, grabbed at the sleeves of nearby locals and asked, bewildered:

“‘Old Lords’? What officials are these? Isn’t the nearest yamen forty miles away in Xiangzhou? Would they really dare come here?”

A kindly local explained in a hushed tone:

“You don’t understand. Here in the Eastern Sea and the Southern Waters, any colossal creature, much larger than its kind, is also called an ‘Old Lord’ or ‘Great Old Lord.’ Like the magistrates in court, they are fierce and formidable. With their sheer size, a single lash of tail or wave of shell can summon a tidal wave. Ordinary fishing boats risk capsizing at the slightest misstep.

“These Old Lords of the sea love to roam in groups, which is what we call the ‘Crossing of the Old Lords.’ Any ship fishing or trading at sea that encounters them must flee as far as possible.

“It may not be as deadly as encountering a ghostly army on land, but if disaster strikes, no one aboard survives!”

The mirage clams that dwarfed all their kin in the harbor’s anchorage were, naturally, ‘Old Lords’ as well—roaming together, they were considered even more dangerous than many carnivorous sharks.

“Though the Five Peaks Banner has suffered a crushing blow and our old shipmaster is gone, we remain! We meant to settle scores with you lackeys, and though duty binds us, since you’ve come to us, none of you will leave.”

Despite his boyish round face, the Lord of the Mirage Tower, Huang Yuanzhou, was audacious and ruthless, his words sharp and plentiful. Facing these bravos who clearly held the Five Peaks Banner’s armed merchant fleet in no regard, he did not hesitate to act.

The Waterworks Bureau enjoyed the protection of official authority; as a wild “White Water Ranger,” any attempt to kill them would surely result in severe backlash—but these bravos were not so shielded.

In the next moment, under the gaze of the crowd, the domineering Lord of the Mirage Tower suddenly dropped to his knees with a splash upon the wooden jetty.

He kowtowed toward the sea, his earlier bluster gone, and pleaded with exaggerated deference:

“Godmother, someone is bullying your child, please stand up for me!”

A crimson talisman flickered briefly between his brows.

With a whoosh—the colored mists around Moon Harbor surged skyward, blanketing half the sea beyond the port.

“Kill, kill, kill...”

Amid thunderous cries of battle, a spectral host of “shrimp and crab soldiers,” reeking of chilly brine, swept ashore in a dreamlike wave.

The bravo closest to the water barely had time to draw his blade before the tide of crustacean soldiers was upon him.

A fierce commotion erupted within his body; in the next instant, he collapsed to the ground, his flesh erupting with wounds and bite marks, his organs vanished as if devoured from within.

Then the second, the third...

A collective gasp arose as the onlookers recoiled in terror at the scene—something more dreadful than any haunting. Many felt as if the monstrous soldiers would leap from the corners of their vision straight into their own bodies.

Beside Wang Cheng, Zhang Wu watched in awe, shouting with excitement:

“The Lord of the Mirage Tower is one of Moon Harbor’s eight legendary boat leaders! They say he mastered the Prince’s secret art, ‘Swearing Kinship, Offering to the Old Lords.’ He swore kinship with a sentient mirage clam as his godmother—no wonder he’s so unreasonably powerful! When will I be granted office and learn such skills myself?”

Wang Cheng was just beginning to feel gratified that this “foolish life” finally had some ambition, when Zhang Wu continued muttering:

“If I learn these arts, I could probably drive a millstone alone, like a hundred mules!”

Wang Cheng was speechless:

“Do you really think these official arts are so simple? With ‘swearing’ and ‘offering’ at their core, it’s not like tending livestock. True, if you command them, they could grind grain for you, and do the work of a hundred mules. But, my friend, what gets ground beneath that millstone will most likely be you!”

He turned his attention back to the battlefield, eyes fixed on Huang Yuanzhou, observing and assessing.

There were few mortals alive who understood the water-officials’ arts and the secret ways of all the myriad orders as deeply as Wang Cheng, heir to the Prince of Maritime Pacification.

“Question: Is there a real hierarchy among all the trades?”

“Outwardly, everyone claims there isn’t, but in their hearts, everyone knows there is. The same is true for the officials. On the surface, all are ministers of the Great Way, serving the Three Officials in the proper rites, but in reality the ranks are as many and varied as the trades.

“Only a select few among the heavenly nobles, aided by orthodoxy and dynasty, can practice in proper succession and reliably achieve the highest ranks, earning a divine post after death.

“The rest, most of the spirit officials, have incomplete traditions and must grope their way forward. Some may reach the heights of court officials and win a divine title, but most cannot repeat such fortune—only one in a thousand will ever succeed.

“Water-officials are the latter, the lowest among the outer orders, with no grand orthodox path. The more arts and secret skills one masters, the more effective one is in office, the greater the return of spiritual energy, and only then can one slowly ascend.”

But how difficult that is!

The Wang family’s handbook, “The True Guide to Favorable Winds,” passed down to Wang Zeng’s generation, already contained one hundred and eight unique skills of the thirty-six water-official halls, twenty-four secret arts, and three orthodox methods.

Huang Yuanzhou’s “Swearing Kinship, Offering to the Old Lords” was one of the twenty-four secret arts.

This art has two branches: Northern, which swears kinship with living people—typically the fortunate, the powerful, and the influential; and Southern, which swears kinship with ancient non-human things—stones, old trees, or Old Lords like these clams. Such bonds grant the child protection from ghosts and evil spirits.

Its power depends entirely on the ‘god-relative’ chosen. The weaker the choice, the lesser the benefit; the mightier the Old Lord, the greater the aid.

If one can maintain and worship a powerful clan of Old Lords, a contract is formed, passing down to descendants and disciples. Even a novice official can immediately call upon their strength.

“For instance, Huang Yuanzhou is not the first Lord of the Mirage Tower, but, like me, part of the second generation of the Five Peaks Banner. His father went to sea even before mine. After learning this art from the ‘True Guide to Favorable Winds,’ he found himself a gentle, wise ‘Miss Clam.’ Later, he died in the Banner’s wars of expansion, and Huang Yuanzhou, only six or seven years my senior, inherited his post and swore his father’s beloved ‘Miss Clam’ as his godmother.

“If not for this art, he could never have reached the strength of a Twenty-Four General at his age. The only side effect is that he can never eat his godmother’s kin—drinking yellow wine, eating clams—these are forever forbidden.

“Our Wang family specializes in other arts, but watching this, I’m tempted—should I, once I’m initiated, also seek out an Old Lord or two to worship?”

These thoughts flashed rapidly through Wang Cheng’s mind.

Even as the first bravo fell, the leader of the bravos, Wei Zhong, who had long been prepared, let out a furious roar and leapt into action.