Chapter Twenty-Nine: Clues to the Key

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Upon hearing Zhou Yi’s words, Zhou Jianjun hurriedly nodded in agreement. In truth, Zhou Yi was perhaps overthinking; what parent would abandon their child simply because of a defect? Of course, those with hearts black as coal are exceptions. Zhou Yi relaxed only once Zhou Jianjun agreed, and as he departed, Zhou Jianjun took ten silver dollars from the cabinet and handed them to him. Zhou Yi accepted them gladly and, along with Beqiao, headed to the library in Dunhua City. He had so many questions that he hoped to answer through books, and naturally, the library was the best place for such pursuits.

In these chaotic times, few people came to read. The library, stretching over two hundred meters, was empty. Zhou Yi wandered through its halls, gathering a wide array of books covering an astonishing breadth of subjects. For two days, he immersed himself in reading, barely eating or sleeping, only stopping once he had found answers to all his questions—and by then, his stomach was painfully empty.

Beqiao was equally well-behaved. For two days, with Zhou Yi not eating, Beqiao lay beside him, never leaving his side. Zhou Yi did not go to any restaurant; bringing Beqiao along would mean requesting blood meals for him, which would certainly shock the world.

With this in mind, Zhou Yi took Beqiao to a nearby mountain. Once there, Beqiao ventured off to hunt, while Zhou Yi remained behind, lighting a fire and waiting for Beqiao’s return.

During these two days, Zhou Yi had first consulted “Investiture of the Gods,” where he discovered that the person who had transmitted Daoist arts to him was none other than the wandering sage Lu Ya. This was definite, as the book described Lu Ya as a self-proclaimed solitary cultivator. Zhou Yi was secretly amazed upon learning this, given Lu Ya’s exalted status and profound abilities.

One passage in the book described Lu Ya thus: “Before Hongjun emerged, the heavens had already opened; the wandering sage Lu Ya was already there.” Hongjun, the ancestral Daoist patriarch, existed before the division of heaven and earth, yet Lu Ya preceded even him—a testament to Lu Ya’s unfathomable depth.

Lu Ya himself introduced his identity as follows: “I fly beyond the Three Realms, outside the Five Elements. I do not serve the Three Holy Emperors, nor deal with the Jade Pool or the Heavenly Emperor. I belong to no sect, claim no paradise. I am not governed by kings nor subject to the underworld. Free and unrestrained, roaming as I please, a solitary saint among immortals.” —Excerpt from “Investiture of the Gods.”

This confirmed Lu Ya’s identity as a solitary cultivator; indeed, he could be called the patriarch of wandering sages. Being personally taught by Lu Ya was an enormous stroke of fortune.

Though he had finally clarified the identity of his benefactor, Zhou Yi still could not understand why the mountain temple venerated Lu Ya, the ancestor of wandering sages. According to legend, Nurhaci neither revered Buddhism nor Daoism, but rather practiced Shamanism. The Qing royal family only began to embrace Buddhism from the emperor who became a monk. Since this thread led nowhere, Zhou Yi set it aside.

He then began to organize historical records concerning Nurhaci’s injury. Official histories provided scant details, but in an unbound, coverless book of unofficial history, he found an intriguing account. It claimed that Nurhaci moved the capital to Shenyang for the purpose of constructing his tomb on Changbai Mountain. After being wounded by Yuan Chonghuan’s Western cannon, he secretly returned to Changbai Mountain to recuperate, and was buried there after his death.

Official records, however, stated that Nurhaci died of carbuncle poisoning and was buried in the Qing Fuling. Zhou Yi surmised that these accounts were likely altered by later generations; after all, Nurhaci’s extensive tomb construction on Changbai Mountain was a costly endeavor, and thus could only have been carried out in secret.

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Moreover, Nurhaci’s injury from Yuan Chonghuan’s Western cannon would certainly not be included in official history, as it would tarnish his image.

That unofficial history also recorded that Nurhaci was accompanied by eight men, one from each of the Eight Banners, when he returned to Changbai Mountain. This matched the number of keys found in the tomb. If Nurhaci was buried in the main tomb, who were these eight Banner sons who accompanied him? The matter of the eight keys was not mentioned in the book and could only be uncovered bit by bit through Zhou Yi’s own efforts.

Unfortunately, Zhou Dajiang was no longer around; otherwise, he might have known more about the origins of these events, saving Zhou Yi from his current blind search.

As he pondered this, Beqiao returned with a fat wild rabbit in his mouth. Zhou Yi tore off a leg and threw the rest to Beqiao. Even though he could now go without food, he could not easily break the habits formed over twenty-odd years. Besides, fasting left his stomach uncomfortable, so although he could survive on Daoist essence alone, he still indulged his appetite.

Just then, someone approached from below the mountain, heading straight for him. Zhou Yi looked closely—who else could it be but Baozi?

Seeing Baozi, Zhou Yi was delighted. He quickly stood up to greet him. As Baozi drew nearer, Zhou Yi asked, “What brings you here? How did you find me?”

Baozi snatched the rabbit leg from Zhou Yi’s hand and took a couple of bites before replying, “You didn’t tell me you were coming home. I had to ask around all the way to find you.”

Zhou Yi realized that, with Beqiao by his side, they made an unusual pair and moved slowly; it was no wonder Baozi had managed to track him down.

Having company was a relief—it would keep him from feeling lonely on the road.

“So, what are you up to?” Baozi asked.

“I’m searching for the keys to open Nurhaci’s tomb,” Zhou Yi replied, then explained his analysis and the information he had found in the books.

Baozi pondered for a moment before asking, “Any clues?”

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Zhou Yi shook his head. “All I know is that the secret burial involved eight Banner sons—one from each Banner. We must find their descendants to get any leads.”

Baozi thought for a moment. “If that’s the case, then the keys for the Upper Three Banners must surely be with the royal family. We should first search for the remaining five. We’re currently in the territory governed by the Plain Yellow and Bordered Yellow Banners, so there likely won’t be any keys here. Let’s head west; there we might find keys for the Plain Red and Bordered Red Banners.”

Baozi was referring to the strict division and stationing of the Eight Banners in the Qing dynasty, arranged according to the principles of the Five Elements.

Zhou Yi found Baozi’s reasoning sound and nodded. “Let’s go. Too much time has passed; after the death of Dai Shan, the commander of the Plain Red and Bordered Red Banners, I don’t know who succeeded him.” He then recounted everything he had seen in Nurhaci’s tomb.

Pooling their thoughts, they analyzed the situation together—two minds were certainly better than one. No sooner had Zhou Yi finished than Baozi asked, “Are you saying the gold and silver weren’t placed in the main tomb?”

Zhou Yi nodded. Baozi, satisfied with his confirmation, continued, “Strictly speaking, those treasures weren’t funerary items. Normally, such riches would be interred in the main tomb. If what you say is true, then the gold and silver must serve another purpose.”

At this, both men simultaneously understood, their eyes meeting in realization. In unison, they said,

“To restore the nation in the future.”

—Lately, life has been busy, so updates may be limited to one chapter per day. If time allows, I’ll try to post more. It’s not laziness—there are simply too many obligations. My apologies. However, one thing is certain: updates will never cease.

—Zhou Yi is the disciple of Lu Ya, the wandering sage, so he uses true Daoist incantations, not spells. All content has now been corrected. It was my oversight—apologies!

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