Chapter 153 — The Sevenfold Dragon-Slaying Formation

The young man had come here in search of his ever-elusive and mysterious father. Yet to his surprise, seated beneath the ancient tree and engaged in a game of chess was not the Old Dragon King, but rather a Daoist who appeared to be but a youth. The young man lifted his gaze slightly, originally intending to stride forward and scold the Daoist, to order him to get lost.

But the moment he looked up, he was met with the Daoist youth’s eyes—bright as lightning yet calm as still water—which for no reason stirred a flicker of dread in his heart.

Thus, the foot he had just stepped out paused and withdrew.

Tapping his folding fan against a guard at his side, he barked,  “You. Go tell that Daoist to move aside.”

“This place is where my royal father and mother used to meet in their younger days.”

“He’s but a wandering daoist—tell him to leave at once!”

“Ah, this…”

The brawny guard hesitated. He glanced over at the young Daoist and saw the youth clad in azure Daoist robes. Before him floated a chessboard of illusory light, clearly conjured from the most pristine Innate Qi of the Daoists. At his side was a sword case, and though the wind stirred the trees, the Daoist remained motionless, his gaze tranquil—yet faintly, a sword intent was already rising, veiled yet present.

This… this sort of matter…

Why don’t you go yourself?

Still, with no better choice, he slowly approached the ancient tree. When he was still seven or eight paces away, he stopped, cupped his hands from afar and said with utmost politeness:  “Greetings, Daoist Master. There used to be an old man who often played chess here. Might Daoist Master know of him?”

Seeing the Daoist youth nod slightly, he continued: “That elder was our young lord’s father.”

 “He is not here today, and our young master merely wished to visit this place.”

The Daoist youth picked up a black piece and placed it gently on the board. In a calm voice, he said: “This is but a place for playing chess.”

 “Let your young master come.”

 “If he can defeat this poor Daoist in a match, I shall naturally make way.”

The guard had no recourse and returned to report. Upon hearing this, the handsome young man furrowed his brow. His nature bore the usual arrogance and overbearing pride of the dragon race in their youth, along with a few degrees of impatience. With a cold laugh, he said:  “Interesting. With Yue Lianqing gone, I’ve had no one to amuse me. Today, I just so happen to come across an arrogant little Daoist.”

“Play chess with me?”

“Hah! Come. Let’s go slap his face.”

The young man strode forward, sweeping his robe wide, brushing aside a few scattered leaves before finally sitting down. The youthful Daoist glanced at his expression—contemptuous, brows tinged with arrogance. At the same time, the white-clothed youth was also scrutinizing the Daoist in blue robes. He gave a cold laugh and said:  “Let me take white and play first—are you truly unafraid of being at a disadvantage?”

“Go ahead.”

He placed the first piece on the board. Qi Wuhuo withdrew his gaze and began to play in silence. The match they played was none other than the ancient, unfinished game that Qi Wuhuo had once played with the elder. Because of his parents, this white-clothed youth had taken a liking to chess from a very young age, and over the years, his skill had grown refined. Within the prefectural city of the Central Province, there was none who could match him.

Thus, at the start, he regarded this chess match with a certain pride and disdain.

But as the game progressed, his expression began to shift. It gradually grew solemn—then sour.

Finally, Qi Wuhuo placed the last piece.

Upon the board, a Dragon-Slaying Formation had been set.

With calm detachment, he said,  “The game is over. You’ve lost.”

The youth in white turned ashen, his hand clenching tightly around his folding fan. With a cold sneer, he said:  “Another match!”

The Daoist youth raised his eyes—granted as he wished.

The white-robed youth played faster and faster.

He tried bold tactics.

Crafted ingenious moves.

But with each game, his defeat came sooner.

It was as if the youth before him had begun to see through something—each move more fierce than the last, each step more decisive, no longer showing the slight hesitation of the first game.

By the seventh match, only a few moves had been made when the Daoist pressed a piece down on the board. The white-robed youth stared at the game for a long time, unable to speak. He could already see the fatal Dragon-Slaying deadlock forming before him. In the end, he placed his own piece down, and the once-arrogant youth exhaled a heavy breath. Pressing his palm against the chessboard, he gave a cold laugh and said: “You waited here deliberately.”

“You set seven consecutive matches of the Dragon-Slaying Formation just for me.”

 “Daoist Master, surely you have something to say to this prince?”

The Daoist youth lifted his eyes and looked upon the source of calamity—

At least, the one apparent on the surface.

Without much emotion, in a calm voice, he said:  “You are not a fool. Why insist on doing foolish things?”

The youth opened his mouth to respond, but the matter was tangled as a web of thorns—how could he begin to explain? And having reached this point, the Daoist must already have guessed much. Qi Wuhuo rose and picked up the sword case.

The white-robed youth barked: “You’re not allowed to leave!”

He stepped forward.

But the Daoist youth slung the sword case over his back—and in that moment, the case opened. The Kill the Thief Sword flew forth, still sheathed, and with a swift reverse spin, struck the youth squarely in the abdomen with the hilt.

A tremendous force knocked the dragon scion back several steps, and the sword returned to the case. 

Qi Wuhuo turned and left—never once looking back.

The old Dragon King—Elder Ao Liu—had failed in his duty.

Though he held the title of Dragon King, he had not fulfilled the responsibilities of a Dragon King.

As for the youth before him, though he was called the Dragon King, he was not of the Jing River, merely acting in its stead.

And so, he would be spared death.

These seven rounds of the Dragon-Slaying Formation—from initial hesitation to final resolve—seemed to mark the moment when he finally made a decision.

If right and wrong did not truly exist, then the weight of choice must rest within the heart.

To choose, to accept the consequences of that choice—and in the end, the young Daoist finally understood the sorrow hidden within the eyes of that great merciful, and noble sage, the Venerable Lord Juyun Lingmiao, and the words he never uttered.

There is no right or wrong.

What matters is the choice.

And afterward, one must learn to shoulder all that the choice brings.

If he were to cut down the old Dragon King, then gratitude, enmity, karma—all of it—would fall upon his shoulders alone.

Elder Ao Liu had rendered great merit and favor to those seven million souls. If he were to slay him, no matter how just his reasons may seem, to those seven million people, it would still be a grudge. In this world, all things are entangled like threads in a vast net, cause and consequence intertwined. Once one is caught within it, what is right and what is wrong becomes exceedingly difficult to judge.

This is what is meant by ‘a sword entering a web of mortal dust and its edge becoming dull’.

To be without shame before Heaven and Earth, and to act in accordance with one’s heart—that is what is right.

The youth pursed his lips. He must first repay the kindness of Elder Ao Liu—everything else could come after.

It is done. 　

Do not regret.

To walk the Dao while bearing a sword—that is what it means to be a cultivator.

And at that very moment, Qi Wuhuo understood:

This was not the [tribulation] itself.  It was merely the beginning of the [tribulation].

The white-robed youth, clutching his abdomen, staggered back several steps. Though struck by the sheathed Kill the Thief Sword, he remained uninjured.  After all, the dragon race was innately powerful. Though slow to mature, both their potential and base strength were immense. Any adult of the dragon clan possessed strength equal to that of a human True Person.

“Hmph. Utter nonsense.”

 “We’re leaving!”

 “The old man’s not around—let’s drink on our own!”

The youth gave a few cold laughs, though what truly stirred within his heart, none could say.  He returned to the Water Palace, originally intending to drink, but in the end, still brought the wine and went to visit the retired Turtle Prime Minister. That old turtle, seemingly possessing a trace of Black Tortoise bloodline, had lived a long and quiet life. Seeing the dragon scion come to visit, he was overjoyed.

He fetched a few simple dishes—cold-dressed water plants, stir-fried fish and shrimp—and in this tranquil corner, shared wine and idle chatter with the prince.

“I still remember back then, Your Highness was so little. You’d ride on this old minister’s shoulders, causing all kinds of mischief.”

“And now, in the blink of an eye—you’ve grown so tall.”

 “Ah… time is merciless. Back then, Her Ladyship was still with us.”

The old turtle sighed with deep sentiment.

The dragon youth responded as usual, politely and calmly. Then, as if by chance, he asked:  “Turtle Prime Minister, I’ve only just taken up my father’s duties, and there are many things I do not yet understand. I came to visit you today to ask… If we change the assigned rainfall numbers, would that be considered a serious matter?”

The old turtle was already half-drunk, and with a tipsy grin, replied:  “Ha! That’s no big deal.”

 “Rainfall levels are mostly determined by the river and water gods themselves. As long as it’s not done recklessly—causing droughts to become floods, or turning lush lands into parched soil—there’s no real harm in it.”

The white-robed youth let out a faint sigh of relief.

The old turtle took another swig of wine, his voice slurred with drunkenness. “Unless it’s something special—like the Grand Rainfall Formation of Three Thousand Six Hundred Years—then that would be a different matter…”

The white-robed youth’s expression turned slightly pale, yet he forced a smile. “But… a formation relies on the balance between what is and what is not. So long as it rains, that should suffice. Surely a single drop more or less cannot make a difference? Where is the reasoning in that?”

The old tortoise burst into hearty laughter. “Formations—how could there be even the slightest room for ambiguity?”

“A formation is like a prescription given to cure an illness. A slight excess or deficiency may at times merely render the medicine ineffective, but at other times, it can turn the medicine into poison. It is the same with formations. A single misstep may not only disrupt the balance, but could even set off a chain reaction.”

“It is like thin ice in spring. A single crack in one spot, and all the ice across a hundred li of river may shatter in an instant.”

“A thousand-li embankment may collapse from the burrow of a single ant—it must not be taken lightly.”

The old turtle’s laughter came to an abrupt halt.

His eyes suddenly widened as he stared hard at the Dragon Son before him. His voice trembled as he cried out: “You… you, you—you—”

“You altered the formation?!”

In that instant, the old turtle sobered up completely!

Cold sweat broke out all over his body.

The white-robed youth gave no reply. His voice hoarse, he only asked, “Then… what will happen?” The old turtle shot to his feet and began pacing back and forth in agitation. The worry on his face was beyond concealment. Suddenly, he turned with a furious shout:

“This—this is a calamity! What are we to do now?! You—you—on ordinary days, it matters not whether it rains more or less. But on this occasion, to be so careless—this is courting death!”

“To merely be made to walk the Dragon-Slaying Platform would already be considered leniency!”

“As it stands, your father is going to be dragged down and killed by your actions!”

The young man’s face changed dramatically. “My father only secluded himself in closed-door cultivation because of the rainfall matter in Jinzhou. That’s the only reason I was acting in his stead.”

“Even so, must he suffer such a grave punishment?”

“Back then, all the mountain and river deities in Jinzhou were wounded and dared not make a move. My father could not bear to see the people perish. He guided the waters to break the drought and quelled that sudden outbreak of evil fire. By all rights, as he was unaware of the full truth, he ought to be judged with leniency…”

The aged Turtle Prime Minister nearly growled in frustration, his voice tinged with a hatred born of disappointment.

“You wish to speak of leniency—to the Northern Pole Exorcism Court?!”

The youth’s face turned ghostly pale. “The Northern Pole Exorcism Court…”

“This matter is truly that grave…”

The old turtle looked at the young man before him, unsure what more to say. A deep sorrow welled in his eyes. Who in this world does not make mistakes? In the folly of youth, it is all too easy to act on impulse, to fall for slanderous tongues, to stray with a single misstep and provoke disaster. Yet this… this calamity was far too great—so great that no one could hope to contain it.

He could not help but sigh. “Indeed, if your father had spoken of all this from the beginning, perhaps, he might still have lived.”

“He rendered merit in the past, and was unaware of the transgression. Though it may be deemed a dereliction of duty, it was not intentional wrongdoing. To suffer the heavy punishment of Heaven’s Wrath and Fivefold Thunderstrikes—though the outcome remains uncertain—at the very least, his life may be spared.”

“But that would mean you have been marked for execution.”

“Upon the Dragon-Slaying Platform, even a punishment of a thousand blades and ten thousand cuts would be merciful.”

“Why not this—let you and your father bear the punishment together? In that case, the sentence would be severe upon you both.”

“Heaven’s Wrath and Fivefold Thunderstrikes—perhaps even your divine dragon body would be severed. But at least, he would enter the cycle of reincarnation.”

The young Dragon King’s face turned deathly pale. At the mention of the Thunder Division’s punishments, his heart quailed in terror. His body trembled uncontrollably with instinctual dread. He staggered to his feet and raised a cup of wine, yet his hands still shook violently from the overwhelming fear. Just as the old turtle opened his mouth to speak further, his expression changed sharply—something was wrong. A torrent of water surged around them without warning, locking the Turtle Prime Minister in place.

The old turtle’s face changed drastically. He tried to speak, but his voice was cut off—he had already been sealed.

The white-robed Dragon Son, still trembling, drained his wine in one gulp. Then he clenched his jaw and, with a heavy hand, smashed the cup down onto the table. He exhaled deeply, his expression twisted in turmoil. “No matter… it’s nothing… That old man has already lived for over a thousand years. He’s aged, crippled, and feeble now—a useless old relic.”

“Yes… yes, he’s of no use anymore.”

“I’m younger than him… I hold greater potential.”

“Yes… yes… that’s right…”

He rose to his feet, casting a glance at the old turtle, whose eyes burned with fury as he pounded madly against the seal, yet could only mouth muffled protests. Those mutterings—those pitiful, wrathful words—drove the turtle, who had survived over a millennium within the waters of the Jing River, into a fury he could not contain. Yet despite his years, his cultivation and divine power were far from enough to shatter the bindings placed upon him by the current young Dragon Son of the Water Palace.

Outside, the guards saw the white-robed youth emerge alone.

They couldn’t help but ask: “Young master, weren’t you here to invite Elder Turtle Prime Minister to the celebration?”

The white-robed youth replied calmly, “I was. But the old Prime Minister is weary and wishes to rest.”

The guards raised no suspicion—only lamented, “Ah, is that so? We had hoped to share another drink with the old Prime Minister. Looks like there won’t be a chance this time.”

“There will be other chances in the days to come.”

“For now, back to the Water Palace—let the music and dance begin anew! Let the wine flow once more!”

“Haha! Well said!”

Though the New Year was still seven or eight days away, the Jing River Water Palace was already in the midst of raucous festivity. There were fine dances and splendid music, rare wine and joyful celebration—mirth filled every hall. Later, as the white-robed Dragon Son recalled the blunder that had started it all, he ordered his subordinates to gather all manner of rare treasures and precious items. He then personally journeyed to the Penglai Department—the bureau responsible for the affairs of water deities—and offered up those treasures as gifts to the officials overseeing the Water Palace.

He said, “If one day I should fall into your hands due to some misstep, I ask only that you show some leniency.”

Afterward, he brought with him vast quantities of fine wine, pearls, and precious jade, and went to pay a formal visit to the True Lord of the Penglai Department. With a deep cupped-fist salute, he greeted him. 

The Penglai Department and the Northern Pole Exorcism Court weren’t in contact with each other, so when the young Dragon Scion arrived, the True Lord smiled and asked what the matter was. But seeing the youth produce so many treasures, the Penglai True Lord’s gaze grew tinged with amusement. He smiled and said: “What sort of matter warrants such lavish gifts?”

“If you won’t say, I dare not accept them.”

“I only hope True Lord might grant me a little convenience.”

“Oh? What convenience is that? Why not have your father come in person?”

The white-robed Dragon Scion raised a cup and laughed with mock exasperation: “That old man has lived over a thousand years. Now he’s old, feeble, and crippled—utterly useless!”

“I am younger than he, and far more promising.”

“And thus—”

His voice paused slightly, then he continued:

“Seven years ago, from that time until now…”

“The Dragon King of the Jing River, is none other than me.”

“These documents contain the proof. That old thing has lived for a millennium; it is time he relinquished his place. I have merely come to submit the official papers and request the True Lord to update the name of the Water Official.” This was no difficult matter. The Penglai True Lord glanced over the documents—indeed, it had been seven years since the young man before him had begun to summon clouds and command the rain, regulating the waterways.

This was in accordance with the proper regulations. So, he retrieved the Heavenly Register of the Penglai Department.

The youth’s face had turned deathly pale, devoid of all color. His hand trembled as he picked up the brush; were it not for the wine, the crushing fear might have rendered him unable to even hold it. He lifted his left hand to steady his right, and upon the official document for the Water Official, he made the necessary amendments—

He was afraid, truly afraid.

He was but a young dragon, untested in the storms of life. To face life and death head-on, to seek it out of his own volition—of course, he was terrified.

But a True Dragon lives as a True Dragon ought. A True Dragon dies as a True Dragon should.

Most of the dragon race are arrogant by nature.

One without pride—is nothing more than a worm.

I did it. If I was wrong—

Then I accept it.

Life or death—I will not let another take the blame for me.

He exhaled slowly. Since the paperwork met all requirements, the evidence was irrefutable, and the official Water Official’s Seal of the previous Jing River Dragon King was affixed as confirmation, the heavenly mandate could be altered. He brought down the final stroke of the brush, and the characters upon the document shimmered with flowing light.

[Central Province · Jing River Dragon King] — Ao Wulie