Chapter Seventy-Seven: Schemes and Deceptions (4th update)

Since the last time the malevolent spirit surged out from the land of Zhuolu, Jiechen had faithfully obeyed Mingkong’s final instructions, searching the outskirts of Zhuolu for spirits and vengeful ghosts, exorcising them whenever he encountered one.

It was raining today, and Jiechen could only seek shelter from the downpour. On his journey, he happened upon Zhou Yi and his companions, which led to the scene described above.

Xu Hua had taken Zhou Yi’s place, and after fainting, Mu Chen attempted to revive Zhou Yi with spiritual energy, but Wu Qian stopped her. “Leave him be. Let him rest awhile.”

The chill of the rain was biting. Wu Qian cradled Zhou Yi in her arms to keep him warm, and the group continued on their way.

By the time Zhou Yi awakened, dawn had already broken. He opened his eyes to find himself at the threshold of Zhuolu. His grief quickly transformed into joy as he carefully picked up Baozi and rushed straight into the depths of Zhuolu.

As the sun rose in the east, it seemed as if everything had become the past. But no, it was not over; for deep grudges and terrible hatred remained unavenged—how could it be over?

Wu Qian, holding Xun Feng’s head in her lap, sat in the carriage, watching Zhou Yi’s figure disappear into the heart of Zhuolu. Her gaze was tender—he was the pillar of her life.

In the burial pit, Zhou Yi meditated and cultivated, while Mu Chen tended to Baozi’s wounds, using the same method as before when she healed Xun Feng. This time, however, Baozi’s recovery was unusually slow. The new skin and flesh covering his body left Zhou Yi and Mu Chen in awe.

How could such miraculous medicine exist in this world? It revived the dead, grew flesh on bones—so long as a shred of soul remained, this rootless cry medicine could heal.

Once Zhou Yi’s spiritual energy had recovered sufficiently, Baozi slowly roused. He looked over his entire body, gazing at the tender, newborn skin, and forgot all the pain he had suffered before.

He grinned widely. “Brother Yi, Mu Chen, I didn’t die—I’ve come back to life!”

Zhou Yi and Mu Chen looked at Baozi and laughed heartily.

Zhou Yi quickly tossed clothes to him. “Put them on. That body of yours is probably smoother than a woman’s.”

Baozi scratched his head, laughing. “I’m a man—what do I need such smooth skin for? I liked it better when I had a few scars here and there.”

Zhou Yi slapped him on the back of his head. “You’re complaining after getting lucky!” But when Zhou Yi’s hand struck Baozi, whether from too much force or something else, a patch of Baozi’s scalp stuck to his palm.

Zhou Yi stared at the piece of skin in his hand, unable to suppress a cry of surprise. Once separated from Baozi’s body, it instantly dissolved, turning into a puddle of blood.

The three of them looked at each other, stunned. In moments, Baozi’s scalp regenerated, new skin sprouting in its place—his regenerative ability was astonishing.

Perhaps from now on, no one would be able to hurt Baozi again.

Having survived such calamity, surely good fortune would follow. Zhou Yi remembered the three weapons he had taken from the imperial palace in the capital—Baozi and Mu Chen lacked suitable arms, so he decided they could use them for now, retrieving them later if necessary.

He unwrapped the yellow cloth from his back, revealing three weapons. Baozi immediately favored the single mace, while Mu Chen, accustomed to swords, received the treasured blade once wielded by generations of emperors.

No one was comfortable with the flexible sword, so Zhou Yi tied it around his waist.

Baozi, holding the mace, noticed the two raised seal characters etched on it—“Zedui.” “Is this the ‘Zedui’ among the eight keys?” he asked.

Zhou Yi smiled and nodded. Now, five of the eight had been gathered, and the opening of Nurhaci’s tomb was not far off.

Just as they turned to leave, the giant red-eyed rat poked its head out of the burial pit once more. Zhou Yi was surprised—the rat’s red eyes were just like those in Nurhaci’s tomb; could it be the mate of the giant rat from the tomb?

Considering this possibility, Zhou Yi quickly stopped. He turned back to speak to the rat, but it was wary and wouldn’t approach.

“Don’t be afraid. Did you come from the heart of Changbai Mountain?” Zhou Yi asked in a low voice.

The rat seemed puzzled, neither nodding nor shaking its head, only staring at Zhou Yi. It did not leave, clearly not understanding what Zhou Yi was saying.

If this red-eyed rat was the mate of the one in Nurhaci’s tomb, their ages must be similar, and with such longevity, surely it would possess intelligence and understand speech.

Thinking again, Zhou Yi slapped his forehead and continued, “Did you come from Bukhan Mountain?”

Changbai Mountain was a folk name, adopted during the early Qing; previously, it was known as Bukhan Mountain or Baektu Mountain. Zhou Yi’s earlier mention of Changbai Mountain would not have been understood by the rat.

Upon hearing “Bukhan Mountain,” the rat nodded vigorously, squeaking excitedly.

“Do you still have a mate in Bukhan Mountain?” Zhou Yi pressed on.

Through further questions, Zhou Yi confirmed that this giant rat was indeed the mate of the one in Nurhaci’s tomb.

About a hundred years ago, during the awakening of insects, this rat ventured out in search of food, only to encounter the giant python of the dragon vein upon leaving the mountain’s heart. The awakening of insects marks the time when cold-blooded creatures become active and hungry; seeing a rat, how could the python resist? The rat could only flee, and by luck, escaped.

After leaving Changbai Mountain, the rat, terrified of the python, dared not return and sought a new home. Yet to outsiders, rats were never spared; the rat became a true pariah, hunted wherever it fled.

It scurried all the way to Zhuolu and settled here.

Last time Zhou Yi had visited, he still carried the scent left by the giant rat. Though he had bathed, the smell lingered, and the rat could detect it.

This time, the rat finally emerged from its burrow and approached Zhou Yi.

Entrusted by the rat, loyal to its kind—all were delighted. Now, Zhou Yi intended to take the rat back to Changbai Mountain before pursuing other matters.

While Zhou Yi conversed with the rat, Baozi stood nearby, examining the mace Zhou Yi had just given him, polishing it lovingly with a cloth.

But after a couple of wipes, Baozi sensed something amiss—the raised “Zedui” characters were glued on, and with a swipe, he rubbed them off.

“Brother Yi, this mace is fake,” Baozi said, eyes wide.

Zhou Yi was taken aback. He took the mace from Baozi and scrutinized it—it was indeed a fake. Or rather, the mace itself was fine, a quality weapon, but it was not “Zedui.”

Mu Chen quickly produced “Tianqian,” and found the same result—the two seal characters had also been pasted on.

Zhou Yi immediately felt he had been duped—tricked by Empress Dowager Longyu and the imperial court.

“If that’s how they want to play, then don’t blame me! Let’s go—back to Changbai Mountain. I will destroy the Qing court’s dragon vein!”