Chapter 134 – Nine Nines to Dispel the Cold
The Divine Lord began to cough violently.
He covered his mouth with his hand, but thick, sweet blood gushed out, overflowing between his fingers and dripping onto the back of Mu Di’s scaled hand. Mu Di stared at the crimson blood as if he had discovered something novel, tilting his head to ask with a smile, “So you have flesh and blood after all?”
The Divine Lord did not answer.
The blood flowed over the back of his own hand, slithering down his wrist like a snake.
…Divine Lord, Divine Lord, my dragon horns have grown in!… A small, snake-like silver dragon coiled around his wrist, lifting a head that was much too large for its body, showing off with delight, rubbing its newly grown horns against the back of his hand. Touch them! Touch them! Isn’t there one more fork than my brother’s?
The newborn horns were tiny, giving no hint of their future form.
The sun rested on the Fusang Tree.
In the distance, the young man in the black robe and white crown scoffed, “Just you?”
The three-legged little dragon’s scales bristled. It arched its back and angrily spat out a tiny ice arrow, about to pounce on its sharp-tongued older brother. The young man pointed a finger at her from afar, and she let out a wail and burst into tears. Sobbing, she tattled with tear-filled eyes, Divine Lord! Look at him! Look, he’s laughing at me again! He just looks down on me because I was born with one less dragon claw!
The Divine Lord stroked her newborn horns, his brow softening as he said:
A Rong, don’t be afraid.
…Even with only three dragon claws, you will grow up well. You will grow horns with many branches, and birds will fly and perch on your horns, chirping to you wherever you go… The little silver dragon wrapped around his wrist, coiling into a small circle. Her watery eyes blinked, unblinking, and as she listened, she rested her chin on her tail.
In a milky voice, she said, Divine Lord, I’m not afraid anymore.
A Rong is not afraid.
A Rong will grow up well.
Grow up big enough to carry the Divine Lord on a tour of the twelve continents…
Oh, Divine Lord.
“Divine Lord… since you are not without flesh and blood,” Mu Di slowly retracted his hand. The snow chilled the warm blood, the cold air stinging the past, and his knuckles tightened one by one. The Divine Lord had just stopped coughing when his second punch landed fiercely. “Then why were you indifferent to our suffering?!”
Why did you reach out to the demon race first?
Why did you give us the illusion of friendship? …You should have just let the demon race stay in the darkness, cowering and fighting for thousands of years… Because since you reached out your hand, we truly thought we were friends.
Yes.
Benevolence, compassion, concern for the common people—none of these are wrong.
But those are things for heavenly gods and humans.
Not for the demon race.
What common people, what myriad creatures, what Great Dao—the demon race doesn’t understand.
The demon race only knew that if the Divine Lord wanted to build the Four Poles, they would go with him. They would cross the Vicious Plow Earth-Mound of the Northeast Corner with him, and the Hundred Rivers at Sea of the northwest corner… They followed him not because of great righteousness, nor for the common people, but because the demon race and the Divine Lord were friends.
It didn’t matter what was right or wrong, what was true or false.
Even if the Divine Lord had said he wanted to establish the Netherworld instead of building the Four Poles, they would have gone with him.
Isn’t that what friends are supposed to be like?
Why was there the Preaching the Dao at Buzhou? Why preach the Dao to all living beings?
There was nothing more painful or infuriating to the demon race than that.
The demon race did not care about death, nor did they care about fighting. But after Incomplete Mountain, all cultivators, all immortals, mocked the friendship they cherished with their lives as a joke… The Divine Lord they trusted and loved most had abandoned them, personally handing the swords that stabbed them to mortals.
From then on, every battle, every death of a companion, became a bloody reminder:
These swords, these techniques, came from the Divine Lord they trusted most.
The most trusted…
The most beloved.
How ridiculous.
The Divine Lord started coughing again, the blood he had just suppressed surging up once more.
It dripped onto the snow.
A shocking red.
The little Hu family granddaughter hiding in the house let out a scream. She had never seen anyone cough up so much blood, nor had she ever seen anyone so thin, as if he might collapse at any moment, as if he might shatter into pieces. She threw open the door and ran down the steps, then stopped abruptly.
A pale, cold hand was gripping Mu Di’s throat.
In the congee stall, a young man had appeared out of thin air.
Blood-red clothes, black hair, dripping with killing intent.
“A Luo.”
The Divine Lord gripped the evil ghost’s wrist, his knuckles turning white.
“Go back.”
The evil ghost didn’t move, his fingers still tightening bit by bit.
A dull, thunderous roar came from Mu Di’s throat. His narrow eyes instantly turned into cold, vertical pupils, and green scales crept up the corners of his eyes. A ferocious horn instantly grew on his forehead, with lightning dancing on it. All the jars on the stone steps and wooden shelves vibrated at once, and the falling snow froze in mid-air.
“A Luo!”
The Divine Lord, leaning on the broken table, staggered to his feet.
The evil ghost glanced back at him and finally released his hand.
The snow suspended in mid-air exploded.
Mu Di staggered backward, his feet digging several deep pits in the ground before he barely stopped. At the same time, the young man in blood-red clothes and black hair turned into a streak of light and was absorbed into the Divine Lord’s sleeve.
The snow fell harder.
***
The water in the clay pot boiled. After the herbs were cooked, the air was filled with the smell of medicine.
Bei Ge Zi Jin squatted by the wooden corridor, watching the fire while cleaning his drowsy nephew’s wounds. Lu Jing sat on a worn-out cushion, looking around. The peeling white-gray walls were covered with papers full of calculations, which for some reason looked familiar. Other than that, there were a few cushions and low tables in the main room, some of which still had children’s doodles on them—Bei Ge Zi Jin had turned this tiny place into a small private school.
“I teach some literacy and arithmetic. A few of the nearby children are quite bright,” Bei Ge Zi Jin explained, seeing Lu Jing flipping through a student’s workbook on the table.
Lu Jing glanced at the child who was curled up from the cold and asked him, “What happened to you?”
With Lu Jing’s current insight, it was not difficult to see that Bei Ge Zi Jin’s qi veins were extremely empty and floating. His cultivation was like water in a bamboo basket, with nine-tenths of it gone, and the remaining sliver was only slightly better than that of an ordinary person. But back on Niuyang Mountain, Bei Ge Zi Jin had been able to fight the great demon Moon Mother. Although the Ghost Valley’s great formation had helped, it was still enough to show his extraordinary strength.
“My cultivation?” Bei Ge Zi Jin added more water to the clay pot and put the lid on. “It was useless, so I got rid of it.”
Lu Jing thought to himself that cultivation couldn’t be gotten rid of just because it was “useless,” but he swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue. After the Night of Dusk and Dawn’s Division, the Hundred Clans’ plot to steal the world’s destiny with the help of Heaven Beyond Heaven was exposed. Coupled with their past arrogance, after Taiyi returned to Kongsang, the remnants of the Hundred Clans scattered in all directions. There were likely no shortage of people seeking revenge and harboring hatred.
As if sensing what he was thinking, Bei Ge Zi Jin shook his head. “Young Master Lu misunderstands. I crippled my own cultivation.”
Lu Jing turned to look at him, genuinely surprised. “You yourself?”
“It’s really not much use to keep it,” Zi Jin smiled. “With cultivation, if someone comes looking for trouble, a fight is inevitable. Without cultivation, when they kick down the door and see I’m already a cripple, there’s no point in fighting anymore. They’ll curse a few times and leave on their own.”
He said it calmly, but Lu Jing fell silent.
In the clay pot.
The herbs bubbled, and the sound of boiling water grew louder.
“Why don’t you teach him to cultivate?” Lu Jing finally spoke, pointing to the child who had curled up, likely in pain. “His bone structure is good. It’ll be a waste if he starts too late. Even if you don’t have cultivation now, you can still teach him the basics, right?”
“I can, but I can’t teach him,” Bei Ge Zi Jin said. “You should have seen it too. His hostile aura is too strong. Teaching him would lead to trouble… Even without cultivation, he was ready to kill. If he had cultivation, he would be capable of killing one person, ten people, or even thousands.”
Lu Jing disagreed. “But others provoked him first. Every injustice has its perpetrator.”
“Yes,” Bei Ge Zi Jin said. “Every injustice has its perpetrator. My surname is Bei Ge, and his is Taiyu. The karmic fruits of what the Bei Ge and Taiyu clans did in the past will naturally fall upon us. Perhaps he and I can argue that we were not involved, but since we did not advise or stop our elders when they were arrogant, then when the rotten wood collapses, we should not claim to be innocent… To repay grievance with virtue is someone else’s mercy, not their responsibility.”
“If you don’t teach him to protect himself, what if he’s really beaten to death when you’re not around?” Lu Jing asked.
“That would be his fate.”
Bei Ge Zi Jin said softly.
Lu Jing opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but not knowing what to say.
He looked around the small school and finally said, “Since you’ve already brought him away from Kongsang to this Plum City, why not just hide your identities? With your skills in arithmetic and knowledge, you could easily be a teacher in a scholarly villa… If others don’t know he’s a remnant of the Taiyu clan, they won’t bully him.”
“I thought about doing that,” Bei Ge Zi Jin said, as the medicinal water began to overflow from the edge of the clay pot’s lid. He took the pot off the stove, set it aside to cool, and tucked in his nephew’s blanket. “But all those in the twelve continents who are proficient in Calendar Science and Celestial Calculation are members of the Hundred Clans. Hiding our identities would be of little use.”
“Celestial Calculation?”
Lu Jing finally understood why the formulas on the wall were so familiar.
They were clearly the formulas of Celestial Calculation!
Back then, because they had to investigate the celestial orbit of Ru City, they had calculated until they were half dead.
“You’re teaching people Calendar Science?” Lu Jing suddenly realized.
Bei Ge Zi Jin nodded.
“Although Taiyi is strong, arithmetic is ultimately not their forte,” Zi Jin looked out at the courtyard, where snow was falling from the sky. “I heard that the Divine Lord now needs to personally correct the celestial orbit once every year… If he could be assisted by calendar officials familiar with Celestial Calculation and the orbits of the sun and moon, perhaps the Divine Lord would not need to be so exhausted?”
Lu Jing became vigilant without showing it.
Chou Bodeng’s hidden illness was a matter of great importance, and he couldn’t afford to be careless.
However, Bei Ge Zi Jin simply pulled a small booklet from his sleeve. “Actually, I have compiled a list of calendar officials from the various clans of the Hundred Clans whose methods are relatively upright. Before this, I had thought of presenting it to the Divine Lord,” he gave a bitter smile, “but then I thought again, it’s better not to cause more trouble for the Divine Lord.”
Lu Jing took the booklet.
On it, many names were indeed written clearly in neat, small standard script. It was clear that they had been carefully considered.
After flipping through it page by page, Lu Jing finally closed it and looked up at Bei Ge Zi Jin. “I cannot give this to the Divine Lord.”
“I know,” Bei Ge Zi Jin tucked his sleeves and looked up at the snowy sky. “The current Kongsang is a great vortex. With the Hundred Clans having used the Fusang Tree to steal the world’s destiny, even the Divine Lord and Taiyi’s personal control of the sun and moon will be met with much speculation. The entire twelve continents bear a deep hatred for the Hundred Clans. If remnants of the Hundred Clans were to truly appear in Kongsang, neither the immortal sects nor the Thirty-Six Islands would sit by and watch. It would lead to another bloody storm. I am giving this list to you today, Young Master Lu, merely in the hope that perhaps you could discuss it with the Pavilion Master of the Mountain Sea Pavilion, and choose one or two from it to teach Calendar Science… I know that the Divine Lord’s skill in calendrical arts is unparalleled, but the Divine Lord is already struggling to balance the entire world. The remaining trivial matters, if they can be accomplished by the efforts of many, should be entrusted to the many.”
Lu Jing pondered for a moment and put the list away.
When it came to calendrical arts, apart from Chou Bodeng, who was indisputably the world’s number one, the next best were the remnants of the Hundred Clans, who were now hated by everyone in the twelve continents, whether human or demon.
After the Divine Lord’s second fall, calendrical arts, represented by the Celestial Calculation, were monopolized by the Kongsang Hundred Clans for ten thousand years. This was so much the case that back then, Fatty Zuo, using the cheat sheet written by Chou Bodeng, could dominate the Mountain Sea Pavilion’s assembly by rote memorization—the gap in calendrical arts was plain to see.
“Just teaching Calendar Science won’t change the current situation of the Hundred Clans,” Lu Jing said slowly. “I cannot give you any guarantees or promises.”
Bei Ge Zi Jin did not feel disappointed; instead, he seemed more relaxed.
“I know.” As he spoke, Bei Ge Zi Jin smiled. “It’s shameful to say, but spreading calendrical arts and providing the people with the knowledge of time was originally the duty of the Hundred Clans. The Divine Lord established Kongsang for this very purpose. It’s just that…”
It was just that later, the calendar officials of Kongsang evolved into the Heaven Herding Clan, and the Celestial Calculation, which was meant to benefit all living things, became a profitable chain around the necks of the twelve continents.
Lu Jing knew all this without him having to say it.
“The calendar is related to the people’s timing. It corresponds to the seasonal migration of birds and beasts above, and guides the agricultural work of the common people below. Without knowledge of phenology, without knowledge of the seasons, one cannot become a society. That is why the Divine Lord personally wrote the Celestial Calculation in the past, so that people would know when the insects hibernate and when the rain comes. When the insects hibernate, the wilderness can be burned; when the rain comes, the seedlings can be planted. When things and their seasons are aligned, humans and the myriad beasts and birds can coexist. The sequence of time thus flows, and all things thus receive virtue… The Divine Lord’s hope back then should have been that everyone in the world would know calendrical arts, and everyone could align with the seasons to have a bountiful year in the cold,” Bei Ge Zi Jin asked in a low voice, “This is the only thing we, the sinful people of the Hundred Clans, can do now, right?”
Lu Jing did not speak.
“Winter Solstice has arrived,” Zi Jin said softly, looking out at the courtyard.
The sky was cold, and it was snowing.
In the distance, the bells of the City Divination Department rang.
***
The bells echoed through the wind and snow.
The small congee stall’s shelter had been reduced to dust, and snowflakes as large as buckets fell vertically.
Broken tables and overturned wine jars lay between them, a scene of utter chaos. The Divine Lord was still coughing, and Mu Di’s hand was still dripping blood… There were too many things, too many words. They could only forge love and hate together into a double-edged sword, to cut through flesh and bone, letting the blood drip and flow.
It wouldn’t heal, it wouldn’t get better.
“No matter how much the Thirty-Six Islands hate the twelve continents, they have still guarded them for over ten thousand years,” Mu Di said coldly, ignoring his wound. “We demons have repaid what we owed you. Now it’s your turn to repay what you owe us demons. Once that’s done, we’ll be even, and have nothing more to do with each other.”
The Divine Lord wiped away the blood and lowered his hand.
He said:
“Alright.”
The City Divination Department’s bell struck twelve times.
Travelers entered through the city gates, returning home for reunions like arrows to their targets. Carriage wheels rolled through the streets and alleys, kicking up flurries of white snow. The young man in the black robe and white crown stepped over the wreckage, brushing past the youth in the black cloak and red robes.
One moved forward, one stayed behind.
Neither looked back.
In Plum City, good friends reunited in the streets and alleys, embracing with loud laughter. Wives and husbands held hands at their doorsteps, laughing and crying as they went inside. Old people leaned on their canes, complaining half-genuinely. Children laughed and played… Happy reunions were happening everywhere. Only in the old alley, outside the breakfast stall, a lonely line of footprints in the snow grew more distant, soon to be covered by the snow.
The wooden door creaked open.
Old Granny Hu held her little granddaughter’s hand with one hand and pushed open the wooden door with the other.
She was old, deaf, and mute. In recent years, she had relied on her granddaughter to be her ears and mouth. Her granddaughter was too young and didn’t understand many things yet. The old and the young stood on the stone steps, looking at the youth who was now alone. The little granddaughter looked up at her grandmother, wanting to say something, but couldn’t.
The Divine Lord bent down and placed a gold ingot on a still-intact wooden chair.
“My apologies.”
He said in a low voice, then stood up and also walked into the wind and snow.
“Your umbrella! Your umbrella! You’ve left your umbrella behind!”
The little girl let go of her grandmother’s sleeve, ran down the stone steps, picked up the oil-paper umbrella leaning against the steps, and shouted loudly.
The Divine Lord did not turn back. He did not open the umbrella, nor did he pull up the hood of his black cloak. The snowflakes quickly covered his hair. In the distance, the red plum blossoms of Heavenly Lake Mountain were blurred by the heavy snow. The mist on the mountaintop today was also much thicker than usual. The majestic Heavenly Lake Mountain was suddenly ancient and gray.
The Divine Lord also walked far away.
His back was so thin it seemed he might fall at any moment, yet he continued to walk forward.
White snow aged the mountain peaks, old friends became new foes.
***
Once the Winter Solstice bells from the City Divination Department stopped, every household in the city became busy. In Plum City, basically every family had a venerable old plum tree in their courtyard. Today was the Winter Solstice, and also the most important season of the year for the people of Plum City: “Inviting the Dragon Shears.”
The so-called “Dragon Shears” were actually a large pair of silver scissors with a handle formed by two intertwined dragons, their tails meeting.
Legend had it that a long, long time ago, a silver dragon flew by with a plum blossom in its mouth.
The silver dragon saw a lake on the mountaintop, as blue as a mirror of the sky, and stopped to rest in it. The dragon liked this place, so it opened its mouth and let the plum blossom fall. The plum branch that fell from the dragon’s mouth turned into the red plum forest on top of Heavenly Lake Mountain, which was the Plum Mother worshipped by the entire city. The scattered petals turned into the various plum trees at the foot of the mountain, which were the divine plums worshipped by each household.
Later, people forged the scissors used to care for the plum gods and trim their old and diseased branches into the shape of a flying dragon, to commemorate the dragon that brought the plum blossoms.
“Stand still, stand still! Don’t run around!”
A woman came out with warm water, scolding her mischievous child.
“Come wash your hands!”
Even mothers who usually doted on their children became strict at this time, not tolerating any sloppiness. The children said “oh” and obediently came over to wash their hands meticulously under their mothers’ supervision. Not just the children, everyone came over to wash their hands.
After washing their hands, the eldest elder led the way, lit incense, and respectfully offered three sticks of incense to the divine plum in the courtyard.
“The Plum God has protected our Liu family since the Jia Year of the Jing cycle, for two hundred and sixty-two years now…”
The most senior grandfather, supported by his son, told his descendants the history of the plum god’s protection of the family, one story at a time. He recounted each instance of protection, each gift bestowed, and rambled on, repeatedly reminding his grandchildren not to let open flames near the divine plum, not to lean iron or stone against the divine plum, and to always be vigilant, catching any insects they see and immediately chasing away any woodpeckers.
Finally, the old man cleared his throat and announced loudly:
“—Invite the Dragon Shears!”
Immediately, from among the sons’ generation, the one chosen by the old ancestor, the most careful and knowledgeable about plums, came forward. After washing his hands three times, he lifted the cover of the tray on the main table in the courtyard and brought out the silver Dragon Shears that had been passed down through generations. Holding the shears with both hands, with the help of his brothers holding the ladder, he climbed the plum tree and carefully trimmed the old branches for the divine plum.
“The dragon plum shears trim the old mold, the old goes and the new comes, spring comes for good new shoots…”
The women clapped their hands, tapping their toes on the ground, and softly hummed a gentle folk song.
“Spring comes for good new shoots… a new bud each year…”
The old man leaned on his cane, supervising the children to make sure they were seriously learning how their fathers took care of the plum god. If he saw one not paying attention, he would give them a sudden rap with his stick. The child, having been hit, would shrink his neck and not dare to be distracted again. In the future, when their fathers were as old as their grandfather, it would be their turn to take over the silver Dragon Shears that had been passed down through generations and take care of the divine plum in the courtyard.
Plum petals fluttered down.
They fell on everyone, young and old.
It was the plum god, smiling gently.
“The plum god is smiling! The plum god is smiling!”
The children clapped and happily ran forward to take the old branches of the divine plum from their fathers and uncles.
They were placed in a large porcelain dish that had been prepared long ago. The head of the family, the grandfather, personally selected the best branch and placed it in a vase. The vase was brought into the house and placed with a few bright red apples and a string or two of fiery red firecrackers. The children sang Plum City’s “Ten Joys Song” again.
This time, the last line they sang was:
“Nine nines to dispel the cold, peace year after year.”
Far away, at the main sect of the Beast Taming Sect, the mountains were covered in heavy snow.
On the mountain gate, a huge and beautiful silver dragon head was hung high. Only two black holes remained for eyes, still looking up at the white clouds in the sky. Its dragon horns had countless branches, like a small forest. Snow fell on the dragon horns, piling up high before falling off. Fluffy birds flew up and down, chirping.
…Divine Lord.
A Rong has grown up.
***
Chou Bodeng stumbled forward in the alley. He didn’t know where he should go. Maybe he should go back to Heavenly Lake Mountain to continue calculating the unfinished star charts. Maybe he should go ask Lu Jing and Budu how the investigation into the Demon Summoning Lure was going. Or maybe he should go… where should he go?
There was nowhere to go.
He could only keep walking forward.
“…Nine nines to dispel the cold, peace year after year,” he heard the song of blessing from the courtyards behind the walls. “Peace year after year.”
Peace year after year.
They will all grow up safely.
Chou Bodeng didn’t want to hear this sound, but the song was everywhere.
Finally, he stopped, his back against the cold stone wall, and slowly, bit by bit, he slid down. The young man in blood-red clothes and black hair suddenly appeared out of thin air in the small alley. He looked down, silently embracing him. Chou Bodeng knew that what had just happened had made him angry.
Chou Bodeng wanted to say something, but he had no strength.
He could only turn his head and show a pale smile:
“A Luo, listen. Peace year after year.”