Chapter 89

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“Transforming into a dragon?”

Not only Lu Liangsheng, but even the Daoist who had drawn his sword to examine it turned his face toward the voice.

The word “dragon” carried immense weight. It commanded the clouds and rain, ensuring favorable weather for a region. Embroidered on robes, it symbolized imperial supremacy, the authority to rule, and the power to decide the fate of countless lives.

Sun Yingxian was the first to express disbelief.

“A centipede turning into a dragon? Old Toad, are you sure you’re not seeing things?”

Lu Liangsheng also harbored doubts. In silence, he looked toward his master. The Toad Daoist sifted through his memories, searching for a similar case, but found nothing.

“Believe it or not, this demon has no intention of taking human form but instead seeks to ascend as a heavenly dragon. It possesses some wisdom—thinking about it… it rather reminds me of my own boldness in my younger days.”

“Hm?”

The scholar and the Daoist turned to look at him in unison.

The toad yawned and smacked his lips. “I was talking about my decisiveness in doing things.”

The two men and one toad slowly emerged from the forest and walked along the official road back to the city. By now, the city gates were closed. The soldiers standing guard on the walls caught sight of approaching figures in the dim light. They extended their torches to illuminate the road but saw nothing.

Right under the soldiers’ noses, Lu Liangsheng used Wall-Passing Technique to smuggle the Daoist and the toad inside. This time, at least, there was no repeat of the funny incident that had occurred when they spied on the Zhou Residence at night.

“Still, Old Lu, that centipede demon severing ties with you doesn’t really harm you, does it? There wasn’t much of a bond to begin with.”

The Daoist toyed with his treasured sword, swinging it twice with its scabbard still on. His fingers stroked its surface as if caressing a woman’s skin, light and deliberate.

“Why not just give it to me? At worst, I’ll burn some extra talisman paper for you to burn later as compensation.”

“Enough of that. Keep your yellow paper to burn at your own leisure.”

Lu Liangsheng snatched the long sword from him and held it in his hand. The sword tassel swayed gently as they returned to the inn. Inside the room, Nie Honglian paced anxiously, her form drifting back and forth, occasionally stirring up eerie gusts of wind. But the moment the scholar pushed open the door and stepped inside, the wind ceased. A dimpled smile appeared on her face, and she joyfully floated forward to greet him.

“Young Master…”

As she approached, she suddenly recoiled, raising her sleeves with a swift motion to shield her face, not daring to look directly at him.

“Young Master, where did that sword in your hand come from…?”

“It was given by a demon.” Lu Liangsheng held the treasure sword farther away and hung it by the bedside, which finally made the female ghost feel somewhat at ease.

Honglian patted her chest, then moved to stand beneath the painting scroll, still unwilling to come any closer. She spoke from across the round table.

“Young Master, this sword is terrifying. It feels like it has taken many lives.”

The Daoist, seated at the table, poured himself a bowl of tea, downed it in one gulp, and interjected, “Haven’t you also killed many people…Ah!” His words were immediately met with a wooden pillow flying toward his head, striking him with a dull thud.

Lu Liangsheng shot him a glare, then took the treasure sword down again and wedged it into the bookshelf in the corner.

“According to that centipede demon, this sword came from the imperial palace—it’s said to have been the weapon of the founding emperor of the Chen Dynasty. So, it’s likely slain more than a few.”

On the other side, the Daoist, rubbing his forehead, set down his tea and stared fixedly at the treasure sword in the bookshelf.

“A weapon steeped in such murderous aura. That demon definitely didn’t give it to you out of kindness. Why not hand it over to me? I can take it back, study it for a while, and deliver the wandering souls trapped within to peace.”

The scholar walked over to the table, poured a cup of tea for his master, and set it down by the bedside. Then, he turned back with a smile.

“If you want the weapon, just say so.”

The Daoist lifted his gaze.

“If I say it, will you give it to me?”

“Of course… not.”

The warm yellow lamplight cast flickering shadows on the walls and window lattices as their banter filled the room. Nie Honglian covered her mouth, chuckling softly, while even the Toad Daoist, who was sprawled lazily across the bed, grinned from ear to ear.

“Enough of this, I’m going to sleep. This is too much bullying.”

Sun Yingxian pushed away his teacup, stood up, pulled the door open, and walked out, slamming it shut behind him.

Once he was gone, the Toad Daoist finally sat up on the bed’s edge, swinging his short legs as he watched his disciple wash up.

“Liangsheng, don’t provoke that centipede demon. Even if we all joined forces, we’d be no match for it.”

Lu Liangsheng wiped his face, handed the towel to Honglian, and returned to sit beside his master, his gaze fixed on the candlelight flickering atop the table.

“I understand, Master.”

He paused for a moment before speaking again.

“I just don’t understand. How could the imperial court, with all its ministers and officials, allow the capital to fall into such a state? Doesn’t the emperor care?”

“Then you’d have to ask the emperor himself.”

The Toad Daoist had no desire to dwell on the matter. He flopped onto his side beside the desk, exposing his pale, round belly, and yawned comfortably.

“Bring that sword over here.”

Hearing this, Honglian quickly darted into the painting, leaving only her head peeking out as she curiously watched Lu Liangsheng retrieve the treasured sword and draw it from its scabbard.

Clang…

The metallic resonance echoed through the room. The ancient blade carried no chilling aura, but under the flickering firelight, its surface revealed densely packed patterns.

The Toad Daoist propped up his head and gave another instruction.

“Press two fingers against the blade.”

Lu Liangsheng did as he was told.

“And then?”

“Infuse your spiritual power into it.”

The next second—

As his fingertips guided his energy into the blade, the intricate patterns on its surface became strikingly vivid. Like drifting clouds, they dispersed, revealing a luminous crescent moon at the center. A dim, bluish glow spread from it, akin to the soft radiance of moonlight.

Just below the hilt, two small characters were engraved:

“Veiled Moon.”

The Toad Daoist stood up, crossed his arms behind his back, and circled around the sword, nodding in approval.

“Not bad. A rare spirit sword. But after so many years without being nurtured by spiritual energy, it’s hard to say how powerful it once was. Moving forward, you should regularly infuse it with your power. A spirit weapon is no different from an ordinary household tool—if left unused, it too will ‘rust’ over time.”

Having said his piece, the Toad Daoist hopped onto the bed and settled in for sleep.

Lu Liangsheng, meanwhile, felt as excited as a child receiving a brand-new toy from his father. Gripping the Veiled Moon Sword, he eagerly swung it about in the room.

Then, he realized something.

“Uh… I don’t actually know any sword techniques.”

Oh well, that could wait. Letting out a yawn, Lu Liangsheng sheathed the Veiled Moon Sword and placed it on the desk. He climbed into bed, kicked off his shoes, and settled into a comfortable sleeping position.

Honglian floated out from the painting.

“He didn’t even put out the light.”

She sighed, then blew gently at the candle on the table. The room was instantly enveloped in darkness. In the corner of the bed, the Toad Daoist remained awake. His bulging eyes stared at the treasure sword resting on the bookshelf.

“A fateful encounter… severed ties… a gifted sword… transformation into a dragon…”

The toad blinked.

Why did this feel so familiar? Like he had seen it somewhere before.

The night deepened. No matter how much he thought about it, the feeling of familiarity eluded him. Time passed with the darkness. As dawn broke, the sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor outside.

Then, knock knock knock—a few raps sounded on the door, followed by a voice from outside.

“Young Master Lu, are you awake?”

Sunlight poured in through the lattice window. Lu Liangsheng had already risen early, washed up, and was now seated by the window, reading [Strategies and Responses]. Hearing the voice, he replied: “Coming.”

Opening the door, he found a young servant in gray robes standing there. Seeing the scholar before him, the boy quickly bowed his head.

“This lowly one greets the honored scholar. Lord Shuhua sent me to request your presence.”

“Wait a moment.”

Lu Liangsheng returned inside, changed into a fresh set of robes, tidied his hair, and informed Honglian in the painting before following the servant downstairs. Along the way, he stopped at a street vendor to purchase some gifts.

By the time he arrived at Min Changwen’s residence, nearly half an hour had passed. However, the master of the house had already left for morning court.

Since his visit was not for Min Changwen, Lu Liangsheng split the gifts, leaving one with the steward of the household. The steward exchanged a few polite words before urging the young servant to quickly escort the honored scholar to the side courtyard, lest Lord Shuhua be kept waiting.

Passing through the garden and along the winding paths, they entered the side courtyard.

There, on a stone stool bathed in morning light, sat an elderly man unseen for some time, engrossed in a book.

A solitary wutong tree stood nearby. A dried leaf drifted down, landing upon the open pages. Just as the old man was about to brush it away, a hand reached out from the side, lifting the leaf instead.

The old man looked up to see Lu Liangsheng standing before him, holding the leaf between his fingers. He smiled and nodded.

“Heh… Liangsheng, you’ve come. Sit, let’s talk.”