Chapter Twenty-Six: Fate Cannot Be Defied

His hand, clamped tightly around the man’s throat, was clearly applying too much force. In no time, the man’s eyes rolled back, and he desperately clawed at the hand constricting his airway, but his efforts were all in vain.

“Will you talk or not?” he asked coldly once more. The Dragon Vein did not protect only the Qing court—it sheltered all of Northeast China. This was the second attempt at sabotage; this man was certainly no virtuous soul.

A few guttural sounds came from the man’s throat, as if he wished to speak, but the grip around his neck rendered him mute. Seeing no response, he squeezed harder, and as the man was about to lose consciousness, the great python behind him let out another piercing hiss.

The serpent’s screech jolted his mind into clarity. He looked at the man before him, who was on the brink of death, and hurriedly released his grip. What am I doing? How could I be so violent? Was it truly me who killed these four? He glanced at the four corpses strewn across the ground, each having met a grisly end—their skulls brutally smashed, red and white fluids pooling beneath them. The sight made his stomach churn, but after nearly two months without food, there was nothing left to retch.

Once again, the python spoke in human tongue. “It’s you. This is the second time you’ve saved me from peril.”

He managed a smile. “You have devoted your life to guarding the Dragon Vein for the Manchu people. I should be the one thanking you.”

While speaking with the python, he dared not linger. He turned to flee, but the python called out, “Don’t let that villain escape!”

He quickly spun around, but the man had vanished from the cave. He did not pursue, for he had too many questions for the python—first and foremost, the matter entrusted to him.

“Have you seen a rat about this big?” He gestured to indicate the giant rat’s size—since they were mates, their size should be similar.

The python pondered briefly. “No. I often saw smaller ones, and used to eat them when hungry, but in recent years, I’ve no longer needed to feed.”

So, the python, too, had learned to live without sustenance. The giant rat had no sense of time, so he couldn’t say when its mate had disappeared. If it had been years ago, the mate would not have grown so large. Since the python once ate rats, perhaps the mate had met its end in the serpent’s belly long ago.

With this in mind, he decided that if he ever saw the giant rat again, he would mention it. Of course, he had no intention of making a special trip back to that rodent-infested burrow—just recalling the mass of writhing rats made his skin crawl.

He asked a few more questions, mostly about the tomb of Nurhaci, but the python, having been born in this cave and surviving on rats and water dripping from the rocks, had never ventured outside and knew nothing of the matter.

With no other choice, he asked the python to lead him out. The python obliged, guiding him into a cavern, but soon water pooled underfoot. The python stopped. “From here, you can exit, but the way is through water. The other paths are all sealed. The route that villain took also leads out, but it’s far more perilous.”

At this point, he wasn’t about to be fussy—so long as he could reach the surface, he was content. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the water.

He wondered how Beqiao was faring. After so long, would Beqiao still recognize him? And what of Wu Qian, his betrothed? He recalled Wu Guishun once visiting his home to ask when the wedding would be, and remarking, “The child has a hard fate.” At the time, it seemed innocuous, but now he sensed a deeper implication in those words.

And what of Baozi? If Baozi went searching for him in the mountains and failed, who knew what trouble might ensue?

Then there was the matter of the skin spirit. So much time had passed that if it sought revenge, it would surely target those dearest to him. If Baozi became its target, what then?

And Zuo Zhi, Ming Chuan, You Zhi… In that moment, his thoughts raced, and he realized how many ties and worries he still carried. With such attachments, his longing for home grew ever more urgent.

He sped up, swimming through the water. Using his internal energy, he could cycle the spiritual force within him, ensuring he would not drown even after a long time submerged. The cave sloped downward, and before long, he saw fish and shrimp darting through the water—a sign that an exit led to a river or lake. Soon, beams of sunlight pierced through the surface above.

He must have arrived. He swam upward, and as he neared the top, a disturbance in the water below suggested he had startled some native creature, but he didn’t wish for further complications and hastened to the surface.

He climbed ashore and scanned his surroundings. It was already May; spring had come and flowers were in bloom. He recognized the place and marveled once more at nature’s handiwork. The exit was beneath the Heavenly Lake of Changbai Mountain. He made a mental note of the spot, so he could enter the mountain’s heart from below if he ever returned.

Channeling his spiritual energy, he sped down the mountain. He still could not soar through the air, but his leaps were swift enough to astound any onlooker. What would have taken two hours on foot, he covered in just over ten minutes, arriving at the entrance to Nanshan Village.

He considered his options and decided to check on Wu Qian first. He would not linger in Nanshan Village—if all went well, he could reach Baishan Village before dark.

With this plan, he made his way to Wu Guishun’s house. As he arrived, he heard a woman’s soft sobbing—a suppressed sound, barely audible to normal ears, but not to his sharpened senses.

Who was weeping? He was puzzled, pushed open the door, and entered. The sobs came from Wu Qian, while Wu Guishun lay on the ground, eyes shut, blood streaming from his head. Wu Qian and her brother Wu Feng sobbed as they tried to rouse Wu Guishun.

Seeing this, he glanced at Wu Guishun—his spirit had already departed his body. Clearly, he was dead. “Who did this?” he asked, grabbing Wu Qian’s arm.

Wu Qian, startled at the sight of him, jerked her arm free and shrank back in terror. “You beast! You monster! I’ll avenge my father!” she cried, and, seizing a fire poker, swung it at him.

He never expected Wu Qian to attack him. Caught off guard, the poker struck him on the head. Wu Feng, seeing his sister lash out, rushed between them and sobbed, “We won’t kill you today, for the sake of the life you once saved. Leave! If I ever see you again, I’ll avenge my father, even if it costs me my life. Go!”

“Qianqian, tell me what happened. Let me explain.” He truly did not know what had transpired.

Wu Qian, eyes brimming with tears, pointed at him. “I accepted our betrothal. Why would you harm my father? What wrong did he do you?”

Her words left him bewildered, but whatever else, saving Wu Guishun was paramount. He hastily began to recite the soul-searching incantation, hoping to find Wu Guishun’s spirit. If it had not gone far, he still had a chance to save him.

Seeing him chant, Wu Qian clapped her hands over her ears and screamed, “Enough! Get out! I never want to see you again! Leave!” She was clearly hysterical—this was no moment for explanations.

He had already sensed Wu Guishun’s spirit nearby, but Wu Qian’s outburst broke the spell. The spirit, startled, slipped away beyond his reach.

He knew that fate could not be defied. He looked at Wu Qian, hoping she would let him explain, his gaze filled with confusion and entreaty. In that one look, he conveyed more than words ever could.

Wu Qian saw the way he looked at her and dropped the poker to the ground. Tears streamed from her eyes. Overwhelmed with grief, she closed her eyes and fainted.

PS: Something came up, so this update is delayed. My apologies. The contract stamp is about to be sealed. Could I trouble you for a few flowers or a bookmark?