Chapter Sixty-Three: The Cycle of Five Grains, The Reincarnation of the Flood Dragon

The last time the two met was back in November of the previous year. Now, after more than a month, Wang Cheng had changed beyond recognition.

Hidden in the mist, Axiao failed to recognize him at first glance.

But Wang Cheng immediately recognized this “Pearl Diver”—almost unchanged.

She was still as strikingly beautiful and cold as ever, but there was now an unmistakable trace of weariness between her brows that she could not conceal; it seemed things had not gone well for her lately.

He then looked into the mist and saw the cook and Xie He, hands tied with black rope and a yellow talisman pressed to their foreheads, trailing silently behind Axiao like marionettes.

Wang Cheng realized he had made a grave mistake. The reason Axiao was here wasn’t to save Xie He and the others—she’d been lying in ambush, waiting for the right moment to strike.

It was not Axiao who had cut in at the last minute; it was Wang Cheng and his group who had barged in unexpectedly!

When Wang Cheng called her name, Axiao finally understood.

She confirmed that this formidable, sharp-eyed captain at the bow of the ship was indeed the very “little scholar” who, on their first meeting, had serenaded her with love songs.

After a moment’s hesitation, she called his name, “Is that you, Wang... Wealth?”

Seeing a familiar face, Axiao twirled her hairpin-dagger and pinned it back into her hair, but there was a probing look in her clear, heterochromatic eyes.

“It’s me. Zhang Wu, Zhang Wen, and the brothers we recruited from the clan are all on my ship,” Wang Cheng replied, pointing toward the wall of fog and taking out the “Wind Lion Guardian” he’d seized from the mason Cui Sheng.

The Wind Lion Guardian, once cursed by a disciple of the Luban school with dark arts, was inherently meant to calm winds and dissipate fog. Its power could be harnessed for good or ill.

He was about to blow on it to clear the fog surrounding the “Azure Garments,” so everyone on board could greet Axiao.

But Axiao interrupted urgently, “Wealth, don’t linger! Let me aboard your ship—let’s go, quickly!”

Without another word, she grabbed the two captives, stepped onto the cresting waves, and vaulted toward the “Azure Garments” through the mist.

As they passed the battered, almost lifeless Xie family merchant ship, she tossed several ghostly blue fire pearls through a porthole.

Whoosh!

Flames burst forth, devouring all traces of the cannon battle and consuming the thugs who had planned to capture the temple attendant of Lady Yan.

Witnessing her strange actions, Wang Cheng’s sense of unease deepened.

Scanning the sea, he spotted, within a few hundred yards before and behind the burning Xie ship, two figures apiece tearing off talismans and emerging from thin air.

They were four seventh-rank officials, each with a line of crimson energy shooting skyward above their heads.

Animal masks concealed their faces as they sped across the water, each displaying unique skills.

This was clearly a carefully set trap, a web laid in wait for a specific target.

But just as the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind, all had been ruined by Wang Cheng and his band’s unexpected intervention.

Furious, the ambushers threw Wang Cheng’s words back at him: “Stop! Leave them behind!”

With a harsh shout, one of them pinched his nose shut with his fingers and violently exhaled a foul white vapor from the other nostril.

The stench roiled through the air like a serpent, rapidly closing in, and within a hundred yards, the reek was dizzying.

Wang Cheng, running, drew a “Blackwater Serpent Talisman” to counter the foul vapor.

Axiao quickly stopped him. “That’s the signature move, ‘Cycle of Grains,’ of the Nightsoil Master—a lower-ranked official. It’s most effective at corrupting sacred items and spiritual tools, clouding their essence. He’s already touched the threshold of the third rank in Qi consumption. Don’t try to block it head-on.”

She flicked a blue-black pearl from her sleeve, shooting it into the sky to meet the white vapor.

Boom!

Thunder crashed as the forces collided and dispersed.

She tugged Wang Cheng, her voice still cool, “My Blackwater Thunder is a yin technique—there’s not enough yang energy to break through his spell. Let’s go!”

Wang Cheng immediately sped up and together they returned to the Azure Garments.

Zhang Wu, Zhang Wen, and the other Dan people crew were already waiting on deck, all greeting her respectfully, “Sister Axiao!”

Though it was her first time aboard the Azure Garments, Axiao instantly carried the imposing air of a revered leader, one whose word was law among the Dan people and the only official and temple attendant of Lady Yan.

But there was no time for pleasantries. She urged them, “Set sail! Get away from the coast—don’t get tangled up with the pursuers!”

Were they back among their own clan, Axiao’s word would have been unconditionally obeyed. But now, every crew member turned to Wang Cheng for orders—only the captain’s word mattered.

A flicker of surprise appeared on Axiao’s perpetually calm face. Her suggestion had been entirely reasonable and in no way overstepped her authority, yet in just a month, these Dan people, who had lived with her for six or seven years, now recognized only their captain.

What kind of spell had they fallen under?

She still didn’t realize just how much weight the words “he’s given us too much” truly carried.

Strict discipline was only the foundation of any mighty force.

Flustered, she found herself regarding Wang Cheng, whom she had only met once before, with newfound gravity.

She could no longer see him as the glib youth she had first encountered.

Wang Cheng was deeply gratified by the crew’s loyalty and immediately echoed Axiao’s instructions.

“Activate the Lionhead Plank—‘Ghost Wind’—and let’s lose them!”

The wind suddenly changed, and both ships turned as one, racing toward deeper waters.

If a group of ordinary seventh-rank officials dared follow without ships or sea gods to protect them, especially now as evil spirits revived after the New Year, they would almost certainly perish.

By the time the four officials reached the burning, sinking Xie merchant ship, only the fading silhouette of the mysterious fog remained.

Their vision obscured by mist, they hadn’t even seen clearly who had acted—only that cannons had been used.

“Damn it, they got away!” The four officials removed their masks and exchanged looks, their faces equally grim.

A corpse collector, his skin ghostly pale, gazed at the sinking merchant ship, his expression dark. “All right, the Xie family was long since in decline, and Xie He’s life isn’t worth much. But we failed to fulfill our employer’s commission—to capture the temple attendant who might know the whereabouts of Lady Yan, and even our bait has been snatched away. Next time it will be much harder to catch anyone. Think carefully about how we’ll answer to our employer.”

Beside him, the Tannersmith, a man with skin slick with an eerie sheen and a white bone scissors at his waist, smoothed his oiled hair. “I told you Xie He and his cook were unreliable—they couldn’t even last until our arrival. We never should have split up. If we’d used my ‘Broidered Garment Technique’ to peel off someone’s skin and hide in it, we could have ambushed Xie He directly.”

At this, the Corpse Collector narrowed his eyes dangerously. “Master Chen, are you saying the blame for our failure lies with Captain Cheng, who posted us outside in ambush? If we’d stayed on the ship, we’d have been riddled with cannonballs!”

The Yin Matchmaker, a woman with a large mole above her lip and a shrill voice, hastily interjected, “Now, now, let’s not quarrel. Xie He has captured plenty of Lady Yan’s temple attendants. Our employer anticipated he’d be targeted, and we four were only meant to ambush the isolated Dan temple attendant. The planned ambush wasn’t even here. Being caught off guard is understandable. Fighting amongst ourselves won’t help—let’s think about how to salvage the situation.”

They were all freelancers, recruited by the employer from the underworld, and none would willingly submit to another.

Seeing that the Tannersmith and Corpse Collector ignored her and were about to argue further, a muffled voice interrupted, “Madam Ye is right. Captain Cheng, Master Chen, both of you quiet down.”

All three fell silent and looked to the last man—the Nightsoil Master, Lord Qian—who had just unleashed the Cycle of Grains vapor.

He was the leader of their operation.

“When you accepted the employer’s deposit, you all knew our task: to use the pure dragon energy from Lady Yan’s line to replenish what the Prince of Jinghai’s heir took, and to complete a certain noble’s sacred ritual. But what you don’t know is this: Lady Yan is Lord Yan’s youngest daughter. She hasn’t yet undergone the ‘Death Without Dying’ ritual to reclaim her divine status—she still walks the mortal world. Years ago, she split off part of her spirit to reincarnate, abandoning her dragon shell, intending to return in human form and draw strength from mortal worship.

“So our true target this time is not just any temple attendant, but... the reincarnation of Lady Yan herself!”