Volume One: The Hidden Dragon Beneath the Abyss Chapter 110: A Strange Land

Xu Qing slowly awakened, drawn by a fragrant scent drifting in from outside. Instinctively, he sprang up and found himself lying on a kang bed. His internal injuries had healed; minor troubles no longer troubled him, and major ones were beyond his control.

He stretched his waist, feeling that this rest had been exceptionally comfortable.

Is my time coming to an end?

Cultivation, cultivation—what remains at the very last?

Xu Qing glanced at the others, then at his own life. It had been unhappy and lonely, a path he never wished to tread from the start.

Cruelty, slaughter, and danger... none of these were what he desired.

Alas, some abandoned him for those very things.

“You’re awake. Eat something first,” a gentle voice said as someone entered.

Before seeing the person, he heard the voice—soft and melodious like an oriole’s song, calm as a spring.

Xu Qing was momentarily stunned, then looked at the delicate woman before him. Her hair was lightly tied up, and she wore a simple gray-white coarse linen dress, somewhat thin. Her figure was fragile and slender, like a willow branch trembling in the wind, yet carried an unyielding pride.

Her complexion was pale and sickly.

Though Xu Qing’s medical knowledge was limited, he sensed she was ill.

“Where is this place?” Xu Qing asked.

“This is Xiayang County. You fainted in the mountains and were brought back by villagers,” the woman replied.

“Xiayang?” Xu Qing thought carefully but shook his head; if he had been here before, he would have known. “No, which country is this?”

“Hua Kingdom,” she said.

I actually ended up in the Hua Kingdom?!

Xu Qing was taken aback. His mind had been foggy, drifting like a leaf on the wind, unaware of how he arrived here.

Now that he was here, he wondered how his long-term plans in Shizhou of the Xia Kingdom were faring. Never mind; those matters, along with the money he spent, no longer mattered.

As long as Zhong Jie wasn’t foolish, he would know Xu Qing was helping him. With Xu Qing’s arrangements, the Shizhou affairs would proceed smoothly!

However, the prime minister was not easy to deal with—it would depend on fate.

Since he was no longer present, he would turn a deaf ear to those matters.

“I will pay you back,” Xu Qing said as he got off the bed, noting only a pair of straw sandals were there, causing him to pause.

Looking at himself, he saw he wore patched cloth clothes.

“I washed your clothes, but the bloodstains wouldn’t come out. The boots are still usable…” the woman said softly.

“No matter, living is most important; everything else is trivial,” Xu Qing said, putting on the sandals and gradually adapting.

Outside, the hut sat at the foot of a mountain in a small hollow. A river curved along the mountain base, flanked by dense forest, with the thatched hut nestled among the trees.

It looked a bit crooked, some of the thatch on the roof was loose—he doubted it wouldn’t leak when it rained.

A simple fence surrounded the area, with some vegetables and melons planted.

Xu Qing circulated his cultivation method; spiritual energy gradually filled him, bringing a satisfaction akin to a person finally sated after hunger.

Unlike demonic cultivators who used any means to strengthen themselves, some so-called righteous cultivators pursued pure martial arts for the purity of their path.

Their cultivation methods varied. As someone once analogized, the Yangtze River irrigates abundantly, while the Yellow River, though muddy, still irrigates. One cannot dismiss either.

When spiritual energy waned and sinister energy grew, they cultivated using demonic energy.

When spiritual energy was abundant, they cultivated with it, harnessing the power of heaven and earth.

Cultivators should resonate with and follow the transformations of heaven and earth.

When spiritual energy overflows, they absorb it; when it thins and sinister energy thickens, they absorb that instead. Yet demonic cultivation inevitably affects one’s mind. Xu Qing and his peers naturally restrained themselves from falling into demonic paths.

“Mother, we’re back…”

At that moment, two children joyfully ran home. Upon seeing Xu Qing, they shyly slipped inside.

The boy was exceptionally refined, carefully holding a worn, yellowed scroll, smiling politely.

The younger girl’s face was very fair; though dressed plainly with patched sleeves, her hands and face were clean and delicate.

They seemed somewhat shy.

That boy... his literary aura was tinged with purple and red.

His future achievements were unimaginable.

Xu Qing was amazed and glanced back once more.

He sat on a stone in the courtyard, watching a line of ants carrying food.

He recalled distant memories, broke a tender blade of grass emitting a faint odor.

He drew a line on the ground, causing the orderly ant procession to scramble chaotically, but soon they regrouped and maintained formation.

He folded a leaf into a round shape like a barrel and placed it over a few ants trapped inside, who soon squirmed anxiously but quickly calmed.

“I used to think humans were like ants, no different—busy and restless, pushed forward by the ants behind, carrying tiny bits of food, which was all the sustenance they had.”

“And so fragile—crushed with a pinch. Not that they couldn’t sense danger, but they were too dull to notice it early. So, like everyone else, they strived step by step to grow stronger, to climb upward, to escape the bottom of the pyramid... There was one who pursued the ultimate in martial arts relentlessly, ignoring the scenery along the way.”

“As for me, I’ve come this far…”

Xu Qing looked up at the sky. At that moment, air currents surged, like rising wind and swirling clouds, an astonishing aura as if to dominate heaven and earth.

The artistic conception was transcendent and boundless, as if fused with the cosmos.

Real or illusionary, true or false—indistinguishable.

Ruling the world, overlooking mountains and rivers.

Mountains, towering and unmoving.

Water, both firm and gentle, flowing endlessly.

Their union, static and dynamic, contradictory yet harmoniously balanced—a realm scarcely attainable by mortal effort.

Yet Xu Qing could achieve this sacred state.

It was also impervious to violation.

Regarding martial comprehension, their level was unimaginable to many.

Compared to other martial artists, his realm was far beyond, approaching the essence of things, while others remained confused, fixated on what they saw.

“Cough…”

Xu Qing turned as the boy stepped out, still marveling at the boy’s strong scholarly aura.

The boy, serious as a scholar, respectfully bowed.

“What’s the matter?” Xu Qing asked.

“If your wounds are healed, you should leave soon,” the boy said.

“Why?” Xu Qing wondered.

“It’s improper,” the boy replied. “If you stay in my house, there will be gossip.”

“How so? Where’s your father?” Xu Qing was calculating the boy’s fate and suddenly paused.

“Uh... he passed away,” the boy’s expression darkened.

“But my illness isn’t healed yet. Can’t I stay a few more days?” Xu Qing asked.

“No, you seem fine now,” the boy said, looking at him.

“Well, whether it’s good or bad isn’t up to us. You should find a doctor to check,” Xu Qing glanced at him. “Or are you worried about something?”

“But if you stay, they’ll speak ill of my mother behind her back,” the boy said firmly. “You must leave.”

“So that’s your concern,” Xu Qing smiled. “What books have you read? I once saw a story: Chunyu Kun asked, ‘Men and women should not touch, is that propriety?’ Mencius said, ‘It is.’ He said, ‘If my sister-in-law is drowning, would you not reach out to save her?’ Mencius said, ‘Not saving her is like a wolf. Men and women should not touch, that is propriety; but helping a drowning sister-in-law is a matter of compassion.’”

The sages advocated propriety and ritual, urging people to observe manners without being rigid or inflexible.

Xu Qing used this example from Mencius and Chunyu Kun.

The boy was momentarily stunned, unable to think of any counter-argument.

“Brother, brother, it’s time to eat,” the little girl came out, addressing Xu Qing, “Big brother, time to eat.”

“Mm, okay,” Xu Qing nodded, gently rubbing her head without dodging.

“By the way, I’m Xu Qing.”

“I’m Yan Shuyi,” the girl said shyly, smiling. “My brother is Yan Mo.”

“Good names,” Xu Qing said as they went inside. “Where’s your mother?”

“Han Keru,” she answered.

…

At the dining table, the atmosphere was quiet and silent.

Xu Qing did not know if they had always been like this or if it was because he was present.

Yan Mo still looked reluctant, unable to retort with a story.

“Xu Gongzi, when will you leave?” Han Keru asked directly.

“In a few days. I need to contact a friend; it will be soon,” Xu Qing said, having eaten just enough, as he didn’t need much.

Not very considerate to their family.

“Where are you from?” the three stared curiously.

“Tang Kingdom,” Xu Qing said. “My family is of the gentry class but has fallen on hard times. I came here for business, but unfortunately, I entered the mountains and encountered wolves, ending up like this.”

“Oh…”

That excuse was still hard to believe.

After the meal, the villagers went to sleep early.

The weather was hot and dry; Xu Qing took a cold bath and wanted to change clothes but found no others to wear, so he reluctantly put the same on again.

Yan Mo read late into the night, then went out briefly. Suddenly, he felt compelled to check the woodshed where Xu Qing slept, though he didn’t know why.

He gently opened the door—no one was in the bed. A chill ran through him, a bad premonition.

He tiptoed to his mother’s room; she was not there either, strangely making him feel relieved.

But where had Xu Qing gone?

He searched around the house but found no sign of him, though he noticed traces leading into the mountains.

Where had he gone at this hour?

Yan Mo dared not follow and pondered whether to inform the adults.

The night wind whispered, rustling the grass.

“Why aren’t you sleeping at this late hour?”

Xu Qing’s voice came.

Yan Mo finally saw him return, having waited for half an hour, and noticed he carried something.

The boy’s green eyes were filled with a pleading look.

“Ah…”

He nearly screamed, covering his mouth tightly, trembling as he pointed.

“What’s wrong with this child? Haven’t you seen him before?” Xu Qing glanced at him.

…

“Chen Ying has left?”

“He should have left. He departed this morning,”

Yuan Lianji was gravely ill. News from Shizhou arrived, and he had fainted twice.

Upon faintly waking, his first question was about Chen Ying.

His own biological son couldn’t help but feel jealous.

“Master, take your medicine,” the loyal old servant said earnestly.

“Clear water washes the tassel; muddy water cleans the feet,” Yuan Lianji sighed.

The one who said that long ago—the disciple he was most proud of—had now been sent away.

Perhaps his days were numbered.

The Yuan family was collapsing.

He blamed himself, all these years, for failing to discipline his children, to manage his political career, and to serve the people and nation.

If not for a group of loyal and righteous men upholding justice, the world’s balance would have shattered long ago.

The greatest pity was Chen Ying—such a man yet corrupting with them.

“Father, Zhong Jie is about to return to the capital!” Yuan Zhen approached, sweating heavily as a terrifying thought struck him.

Suddenly, he felt a surge of awe.

“What does it have to do with me?” Yuan Lianji forced himself upright.

“Father!” Yuan Zhen shouted angrily.

“Go. Go far away. Take whatever you can. Our father-son bond ends here,” Yuan Lianji said. “Everything you did in my name, I’ve borne it all. At my age, I no longer care.”

“Father, our Yuan family is mighty; we won’t fall,” Yuan Zhen said. “We’ll make sure he never reaches the capital.”

“You’re the same as always. I blame myself for being too busy with state affairs to discipline you properly,” Yuan Lianji said. “Will you only weep in regret when you’re on the executioner’s block?”

“Father! Our family has so many experts; dealing with one Zhong Jie is easy,” Yuan Zhen said. “Can’t you help your son?”

“Even if one Zhong Jie dies, there will be thousands more. My time is near; I can no longer protect you. If you don’t leave now, there will be no chance. I’ve already sent your son away, as I promised to secure the family’s future,” Yuan Lianji said, struggling to stand. “Let me enter the palace and see the emperor one last time.”

“Father!”

Yuan Zhen knelt, tears streaming.

Watching the frail figure walk away, trembling and weak.

If he fell again, he would never rise.

…

“Are you really leaving?”

Wang Chuan escorted him outside the city, feeling reluctant.

“Your Highness, my greatest regret is not serving you. If I could have served you, it would have been my greatest honor!” Chen Ying said, mounting his horse. “I entrust my daughter to you.”

“Forget it, I can handle such a small matter,” Wang Chuan said. “Since you’re leaving, I will also leave Lun City and the Xia Kingdom. As for your daughter, it’s up to her if she wants to come with me. Whether for fame or reality, to be my disciple depends on her choice.”

The final decision lay with her.

“I hope she can train beside Your Highness. Your martial path is transcendent; with your guidance, she will progress greatly,” Chen Ying smiled. “Your Highness, will you give me a poem?”

“Bring a brush,” Wang Chuan called.

Having come here and now with Chen Ying leaving, there was truly nothing left to hold onto.

On the pure white rice paper, Wang Chuan wrote:

“Within the realm, true friends exist; though far apart, they feel near. Do not stray on divergent paths; sons and daughters share tears.”

Chen Ying was deeply moved, tears flowing.

…

“Your Majesty, this old servant resigns, failing you,” Yuan Lianji knelt before the Xia ruler.

“The people suffer,” the ruler said. “These years have brought disasters: greedy officials above, bandits below; even heaven can no longer tolerate them. Many gnaw on grass roots, chew bark. We hoped for a good autumn harvest to get by slowly, but many won’t survive.”

“Am I to suffer heaven’s punishment?”

“I am guilty!” Yuan Lianji cried.