Chapter Sixty-Four: The Hidden Channel Beneath the River, Palace of the Silver Dragon

Han Chong, helpless, lowered his sword's radiance and descended to the riverbank. He walked along the shore, inquiring everywhere, hoping to discover whether a hidden channel existed beneath the river. He asked more than a hundred times, traversing over a thousand miles in three days, with the full moon night approaching, yet he found no clues.

It was not until dawn on the fourth day that he finally heard something. At a misty bend of the river, he saw an old fisherman clad in a straw raincoat, sitting alone at the tip of a slippery spit. The old man spoke, his eyes wide with fear. There was an ancient rumor: this stretch of the river might indeed conceal a hidden channel. Stones thrown into the water made no sound; swimmers who entered vanished, never to return, for the river's heart was nearly bottomless.

Under the old man's frightened gaze, Han Chong plunged into the depths. The fisherman, terrified of becoming involved, hastily gathered his fishing gear and fled. Han Chong dived down ten fathoms before he saw below him a wave-shaped ravine, dark as night and unfathomably deep. He descended another fifty fathoms; the water pressure grew immense, his chest felt tight, and though he possessed the art of swimming, he neared the limits of his endurance. It was pitch-black, he could not see his own hand, and there was nothing to be found.

With no other choice, Han Chong surfaced and returned to the shore. The black-robed old Daoist paced nervously, uncertain if he should flee, afraid Han Chong would pursue and kill him. Seeing Han Chong emerge, he hurriedly asked about the situation beneath the water.

“There is indeed a hidden channel below, but it is pitch black, impossible to search. I will wait until noon, when the sun is at its highest, and try again.”

At noon, Han Chong dove once more; it was only marginally better, but he still could not see.

“Could it be that the secret requires the full moon?” he mused. “But moonlight, however bright, can never outshine the sun. What nonsense these poetic riddles are.” The old Daoist cursed under his breath.

That evening, the full moon hung high. Han Chong entered the water for a third time. This time, a miracle occurred. Deep in the ravine, tiny silver lights appeared, like a sky full of stars.

Were they night pearls?

But Han Chong would not risk himself for a single pearl. Swimming parallel to the ravine, he finally found among a thousand silver points a cluster of dazzling silvery light.

The moon in the sky, the river beneath, the palace within the river, the dragon within the palace.

Han Chong, overjoyed, swam down toward the cluster of silver light. After a hundred fathoms, enduring the terrifying water pressure, he finally beheld its entirety: a vast palace of silver bones, occupying several acres.

Before the palace, Han Chong's eyes widened. He truly saw a silver-white chi dragon coiled within, its eyes tightly shut, unmoving, yet its body showed not a trace of decay. Instead, it was like the jade coffin of Moon Lake, gathering faint silvery moonlight, splendid and brilliant.

Han Chong dared not linger. He searched the surroundings swiftly but found no sign of the Lunar Mirror.

Could it be that the final line, the dragon within the palace, meant the treasure was hidden within the dragon's corpse?

Han Chong approached the dragon’s mouth, inserted his hands, and pushed upward with all his strength. The upper jaw weighed over a thousand pounds; Han Chong strained, raising it only a foot. Suddenly, a burst of treasure light shot forth, sending a chill through his body, so cold it nearly froze his flesh.

He opened his mouth to breathe fire downward, his medical arts circulating within, barely easing the cold. The golden silk demon-binding rope slithered out, quickly hooking the mirror from the dragon’s mouth.

He released the jaw and collapsed, gasping for breath, gazing at the treasure at his feet.

It was a bronze artifact, shield-shaped and about a foot square, etched with a crescent moon. Its seam was tightly shut, emitting silver rays like the gate of a lunar palace.

He picked it up; it was icy cold. The mirror opened suddenly, and from the silver light, a blood shadow of a chi dragon sprang forth, darting straight into Han Chong’s chest and abdomen.

No! What was this?

Alarmed, Han Chong inspected himself internally and found the chi dragon’s blood shadow drinking from his veins, as if to drain him dry.

At that moment, the blood shadow snake from his heart shot out toward the chi dragon. The chi dragon’s blood shadow, upon seeing Han Chong’s blood snake, trembled in terror, fleeing down his veins as the snake pursued relentlessly.

Han Chong watched in shock and confusion. By rights, the dragon was the lord of all creatures; that it would flee from a snake defied all logic.

After a chase, the blood snake finally cornered the chi dragon in the veins of Han Chong’s leg, coiled around it, and swallowed its head in one bite.

Though the dragon struggled desperately, it was in vain. The blood snake consumed it, returning to his heart and vanishing.

Han Chong opened his eyes, his veins aching, his energy depleted. Before him, the silver chi dragon had shriveled and decayed, as if it had rotted for a thousand years in an instant, leaving only bones and tendons.

Suddenly, the dragon palace rumbled and shook, about to collapse for reasons unknown.

Han Chong mustered his strength, pulled out a length of dragon tendon and stowed it in his storage pouch, then swam swiftly out of the palace.

Could it be that the one who attacked the last emperor of the Lunar Dynasty was of the dragon clan, whose sole purpose was to guard this mirror and keep the chi dragon’s bloodline alive?

If so, it was selfish indeed, plunging the world into chaos and endless war.

Just as Han Chong crawled ashore, a black pellet shot toward him like a meteor, with a faint rumbling. Han Chong reacted instantly, burrowing underground. With a thunderous explosion, a crater was blasted where he had stood, earth flying everywhere. Han Chong, beneath the surface, was shaken dizzy, his bones and flesh displaced.

“Earth-burrowing technique!” cried the black-robed Daoist three yards away, and without hesitation, he hopped away in panic.

Yet before he fled a hundred yards, a flash of blue light pierced him through the back, the tip of the Clear Sword protruding from his chest. The Daoist fell, unwilling.

Han Chong collapsed, thinking how close he had come to disaster. Who would have guessed this villain had plotted murder for treasure, leaving such a deadly trick? Had he not possessed the earth-burrowing technique, he would surely have fallen.

After several hours of rest, his wounds mostly healed, Han Chong sat by the river and examined the Lunar Mirror.

He wondered if the treasure possessed any means of subduing enemies. Ever since the chi dragon’s blood shadow flew out, the mirror had remained tightly shut, refusing to open again.

Han Chong tried dripping his essence blood into it, but it had no effect. Shaking his head, he put it away.

Days later, Han Chong returned to the Prefect’s residence. Six days remained before the plague rats would emerge; Daoist Mi Xian was dead, and he wondered if the silver-masked woman could continue her plan.

Han Chong decided to pass this information to the fat Prefect through the thin steward. If there was an informant within the Prefect’s residence, the secret would likely not remain hidden.

Unbeknownst to him, since Han Chong had slain the six bronze guards and the mother mosquito at Black Cloud Mountain days before, the silver-masked woman only learned of it three days later and was furious.

When Han Chong spread news of the Daoist’s death, she learned of it within two hours. Fortunately, the Prefect was still alive; otherwise, both her plans would have failed.

What force could have destroyed Black Cloud Mountain so silently? She could not fathom it, but one thing was clear: the physician Han in the Prefect’s residence was truly mysterious and must be connected to the death of Daoist Mi Xian.

That evening, Han Chong was about to return to the branch office when he sensed someone tailing him.

So there really was an informant? In that case, he would meet the mastermind face to face.