Chapter 72 (Patreon)

All of Chen Haoran’s hard work avoiding damaging the inn was for naught when a drunk Phelps broke a hole through its roof and Chen broke a bigger one going after him. After finishing off the bottle of wine Phelps proved to be the worst case of curious drunk as he decided to make one small leap for sloths, one giant leap for sloth-kind and fly to the moon. It had taken Chen Haoran throwing Xie Jin into the air, the use of his Gu, and a stolen fishing net, to stop Phelps from changing his name to Armstrong.

Suffice to say it they stepped onto the boat the next day very tired and with dark rings around their eyes. Xie Jin had a long red scratch mark going up one arm. A happy Phelps squealed at the new scents he was exposed to on the boat. Chen Haoran had an iron grip on the silk cord he had attached to the sloth’s collar.

The captain took one look at their bedraggled forms and shook his head. “That ruckus last night you boys?”

“Is there a problem?” Xie Jin demanded.

The captain shrugged. “Not the worst omen to have before setting sail.”

He escorted them to a small cabin with two simple beds and left to oversee the crew. Other passengers sorted themselves in nearby cabins and they got more than a few strange looks as they stumbled into their own.

Xie Jin slumped over onto the bed and groaned. Chen Haoran dropped Phelps onto his own bed and had to slap his claws away from tearing up the mattress. After warning Phelps to not break anything Chen Haoran collapsed.

“Where in the world did you find that little monster?” Xie Jin asked, slurring his words.

“The depths of hell apparently.”

Chen Haoran felt the heavy hands of sleep pull him. A single thought ringing out before he lost consciousness.

He was never letting Phelps near alcohol again.

—————

When he awoke he was sore all over. The bed wasn’t the most comfortable thing he’d ever slept on. They hadn’t wanted to stay in the town too long so Xie Jin booked the boat that was sailing the soonest, quality hadn’t been the biggest concern. Chen Haoran was regretting being so hasty as he massaged the cricks in his neck. He missed his mansion. His bed had been the most pleasant sleep he had in both worlds. He had to pawn off the jewelry he’d been rewarded as soon as possible. He wouldn’t accept living anywhere but the best.

Phelps had curled up into a ball at the corner of the bed and was sound asleep. Xie Jin was still messily sprawled over his own bed and loudly snored. His Gu beetle sat on top of his bag like an onyx statue. It didn’t so much as twitch while Chen Haoran rose and changed his clothes and yet he could swear he felt it staring at him. It was still an amorphous blob of qi to his sense. Proximity to it hadn’t helped him figure out its nature either. Unless he had a use for it Xie Jin never exposed the bug in front of other people. He and other people treated it with significance but that just begged the question. What about this bug made people who could casually split rocks and throw fire give it the side-eye?

Chen Haoran quietly crept out of the room and closed the door shut behind him. He stood at the door. The feeling of being watched didn’t leave. As he walked away from the cabin the feeling finally receded and he let out of breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Right. He was beginning to understand.

He stepped out onto the deck and shielded his eyes from the light of the evening sun. While he’d been knocked out the boat had taken off and the town was now far behind them. Sailors walked about the deck, checking rigging and mending sailcloth. Other passengers, fellow travelers and merchants, conversed in groups or stood and idly observed the scenery. He stretched out his sense. There were other cultivators but none of them came near Xie Jin’s Eighth-Layer cultivation let alone his.

Every cultivator on the deck looked over when Chen Haoran appeared. Some were open about it and made their attention obvious, others were subtler and peeked at him with furtive glances. None of them ignored him and when he looked around they all averted their eyes. There was some indescribable feeling in his chest. To these people, he was one of the strong, someone to be wary of. They didn’t know anything about his techniques or his experience, just his cultivation was enough to know he was beyond them. He turned away from them and walked over to the side of the ship.

He did not feel proud. He was a small fish running from his pond. Just because he looked larger to them didn’t mean he should treat that as a true reflection of himself. Would it have helped him stand up to Song Yuelin? Would it help him mask his ignorance? No. He couldn’t afford to let himself be arrogant. He needed to reach the Liquid Meridian realm. Only then could he start having a bit of peace of mind.

He peered over the edge of the ship into the yellow river. There was no hitch in his qi like before, no sudden enlightenment or change now that he was on the water proper. He almost thought he had hallucinated the feeling but too many things had lined up for him to doubt himself like that. A yellow river. Dragon veins. The connection with his cultivation method was there. It had been a long time since he had thought about the Yellow River Refinement, it was just a Profound-rank technique his predecessor had practiced. Picked because it was the best he could use if he still wanted to quickly advance with his Low-Grade Spirit Root. What did the connection mean though? Was the reaction something inherent to the original technique or was it new to his improved one?

It begged the question of just how his Gifting power created new techniques. Yellow River Refinement improved a hundred times became the Yellow Dragon River Refinement. How was a new name made? On what basis? The river he was on was called a Dragon’s Vein. Did the power take the name from that or did it give him an already existing technique? At the very least Song Yuelin had never heard of his improved techniques when he had shown them to him but that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t.

Chen Haoran sighed. Whatever the means he wouldn’t find the answer by staring into the water. He sat down cross-legged and cycled his qi.

Over the next several days Chen Haoran would come to the deck and cultivate. Sometimes he would bring Phelps who would sit in his lap and enjoy the air and fresh scents of the river. Xie Jin would occasionally come out of the cabin and lounge around as well. He was the only Southerner on the ship and but that didn’t stop him from inserting himself into the crew’s circle, joining them for drinking and gambling with dice. Sometimes he sat by Chen Haoran while he meditated, silent and gazing at the sky or throwing a fishing line over the side.

“I’m amazed you can cultivate here at all,” he said. His eyes were glued on the water surface where his lure bobbed.

“Can’t really call it cultivating,” Chen Haoran replied. The ambient was too thin for him to have any real gains. It wasn’t because he was spoiled by the Spa Cavern either. Even Clearsprings City had higher qi levels.

“I mean around so many other people. Once we’re in the Central Regions proper you’ll notice the qi level rise.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re being bothered so why let others get in the way?” Whether it was because of their strength or Xie Jin’s origins the other passengers had kept their distance.

“I guess someone like you can be fearless,” Xie Jin said.

Before Chen Haoran could ask him what he meant there was a call from the top of the ship. “Machu ahead!”

The crew burst into activity, quickly securing any loose item and dragging out bottles of wine and rice. The captain brought a pig out onto the deck and slaughtered it with a clean swipe of his knife.

“What are they doing?” Chen Haoran asked.

“Sacrifices to the river,” a nearby merchant answered. “The Ministry of Rites does its best to appease it but it’s good luck for a ship to offer its own.”

The merchant then went on to follow the other passengers to crowd near the prow of the ship. He and Xie Jin joined them and they all watched as the boat approach a larger river.

A much, much larger river.

Chen Haoran stared in stupefied shock as the captain guided the ship onto the Machu river. He cycled qi to his eyes and stretched his senses to their limit in search of the opposite shore of the river but all that was visible was golden water stretching on endlessly.   The muddy yellow water of the tributary disappeared into the Machu, which flowed with yellow water as clear as his own qi. Right as they crossed onto the river proper the crew opened up the wine and rice sacks and tossed it and the dead pig into the water.

Chen Haoran felt a familiar dragon roar rise from within him.

His qi flared out and the crowd around him stepped back in shock. He could hear Xie Jin whisper a concerned question. He ignored all of that though and sat down to focus on his qi. Almost without prompting his yellow qi began to flow through his meridians like the Machu in miniature. The yellow dragon did not dance while racing around his body like usual. Instead, it hung in his head and twisted and coiled while roaring in triumph as if it were returning home. Chen Haoran could practically feel the roars echo out from him and into the river below. It felt so close it felt like he could reach his hand out to grab it.

“Brother Chen!” Xie Jin roared.

He opened his eyes.

A tendril of gold water hovered in front of the boat. Xie Jin stood in front of him facing the tendril, the Gu beetle hovering above his shoulder and glowing a poisonous purple.

Chen Haoran felt the dragon roar.

He waved.

The tendril waved back.