This ghostly jiaolong was roughly a hundred zhang in length, its entire body covered in black scales that faintly reflected a metallic sheen. From its head sprouted a single sharp, jet-black horn. Its appearance resembled a dragon but was not truly one.
Its tail was bare like a snake’s, lacking any fur, unlike a true dragon which has four claws with five fingers; a jiaolong only has two claws with three fingers.
The ghost jiaolong’s body flickered in and out of sight, as if it didn’t truly exist in this world.
This meant that the jiaolong was merely a spiritual form; its physical body had long since perished.
At this moment, the midday sun blazed fiercely. Water-loving jiaolong naturally disliked intense sunlight, let alone a ghost jiaolong.
It was curled up resting beneath the shadow of the leaves, two whiskers drifting gently with its breath, the sound resembling the low moo of an ox.
A jiaolong is a type of dragon. The pond teems with three thousand six hundred fish; when a jiaolong appears, it leads the fish, able to command them to fly. In the hidden waters, it is a jiaolong.
Though this jiaolong had lost its physical body, it was still of the dragon lineage.
Dragons are the favored creatures of heaven and earth.
Throughout history, those known as “Dragon Slayers” have been exceedingly rare, their appearances always signaling great changes in the world, typically coinciding with the upheaval of dynasties.
The most recent dragon-slaying legend dates back over three hundred years, when the Dragon Slayer was the current Grand Tutor of the Great Zhou.
It is said that three centuries ago, the old dynasty gathered all the world’s dragon veins, converging them in the capital. Hundreds of dragon veins, large and small, condensed into a single five-clawed golden dragon thousands of zhang long, coiling above the old dynasty’s capital to sustain the kingdom and suppress the flow of fate across the land.
This gave the otherwise precarious empire a brief resurgence. At the time, the uprising led by the Empress of Great Zhou was relentlessly pushed back by the old dynasty’s army, empowered by the golden dragon’s aura.
Just as the rebels were about to be encircled and annihilated, the Grand Tutor appeared alone above the old dynasty’s capital.
That was three hundred years ago, and all those fortunate enough to witness the battle have long since passed away, but the Great Zhou Chronicles provide detailed accounts.
It is said the Grand Tutor walked on air, clad in flowing white robes, a sword slung behind her back, as if a celestial being descended to the mortal realm.
She battled the thousand-zhang golden dragon high above the city for three days and nights, lightning and thunder clashing, the ringing of sword and roar of dragon echoing in the sky without pause.
In the end, with a sorrowful dragon’s cry, the golden dragon—symbol of the old dynasty’s final fate—was cut down by the Grand Tutor’s sword.
The chronicles record that blood rained from the sky, as if heaven itself mourned the golden dragon’s fall, flooding the old capital and forming a vast red lake.
Today, that lake is known as the Blood Lake, and the dragon-slaying sword is called the Taiping Sword.
After the birth of the Northern Border Prince, the Grand Tutor gifted the Taiping Sword to him. Later, when Zheng Beiguan ventured alone into the Northern Territories to rescue Wen Ren Yiqing and died, the legendary sword vanished without a trace.
Now, Ling Xiaodong and Yue Yingying faced the next rank below true dragons—the jiaolong—making them all the more cautious.
“How’s it looking, Master? Confident?” Ling Xiaodong whispered from behind a tree.
Yue Yingying frowned. Fighting a jiaolong was no small matter. Her usual indifferent demeanor had vanished, replaced by solemn focus.
“Since it’s a ghostly creature, it must fear thunder the most. But the problem is, this is the jiaolong’s soul, which can already ride clouds and call forth rain. Thunder alone won’t be enough—we need heavenly fire as well.”
“Datian Great Thunder Fire Curse?”
To combine thunder and heavenly fire, Ling Xiaodong only remembered one spell from the Taiqing Nine Mysteries: the Datian Great Thunder Fire Curse.
Yue Yingying nodded slightly, giving him a look of approval.
“Yes, that’s the one. But casting the Datian Great Thunder Fire Curse takes a long time and will trigger a celestial phenomenon. I worry this ghost jiaolong will escape before we finish. If it retreats and returns later, it will be trouble.”
Ling Xiaodong suggested, “Then I’ll lure it out. How long does the spell take to cast?”
Yue Yingying lowered her head, pondering a moment before replying slowly:
“About half an incense stick’s time.”
“Got it!”
For Xiao Yan, even a jiaolong was nothing.
He gripped his wooden sword tightly, suddenly recalling the dream inside the shen frog’s belly.
In that dream, he had also wielded a wooden sword to slay a feathered serpent and brought back the Xuanyang Herb to Qingfeng Temple to save Xiao Yan.
He hoped reality would unfold as in his dream.
Ling Xiaodong said solemnly, “Master, let’s begin.”
Yue Yingying wasted no words. She raised her sword finger, and sheets of white talismans flew out from her bag. Beast blood hovered in midair, tracing strange patterns on the paper.
Under her control, the completed talismans shot forward, sealing the entire pond.
“Om hun hun jiu, rise, Nine Heavens Fire Command, essence of Yan Emperor. Flowing gold sage, fire crow divine soldier. Cast fire for ten thousand miles, sweep away demonic aura. Burn the ghostly thieves, wind send to Li Palace. Heavenly fire chain, black flame and black wind. Flying fire radiant, great god respond. I wield fire arts, each holds imperial bell. Shake the Three Realms, demons vanish……”
As Yue Yingying cast, the bright clear sky suddenly filled with dense black clouds, crackling with brilliant crimson lightning.
The ghost jiaolong, resting in the pond, abruptly raised its head to look skyward, its serpentine emerald pupils narrowing to slits.
Unease brewed within the dark clouds as if that power was directed at it.
The dragon-born instinctively knew that fleeing was the best option.
Just as it prepared to escape, a sharp shout rang out.
“Wretched beast, die!”
A figure dashed across the water’s surface, splashing wildly. In an instant, Ling Xiaodong was before the ghost jiaolong.
He thrust the wooden sword forward. The ghost jiaolong was too slow to react and failed to dodge, the sword piercing straight into its neck.
Though the sword didn’t break through the invulnerable dragon scales, it struck precisely on a white crescent-shaped scale about the size of a palm beneath the jiaolong’s chin.
That was the jiaolong’s reverse scale!
Ling Xiaodong’s mission wasn’t to kill the jiaolong but to buy his master more time to cast her spell.
A roar erupted, angry and fierce, sounding like both a cow’s bellow and a tiger’s growl, shaking the forest.
Though merely a jiaolong, it possessed a dragon’s majesty.
Small forest creatures burst their blood vessels and died from the roar; even larger animals bled from all orifices, collapsing in agony.
Ling Xiaodong was completely unfazed. He pushed off the water’s surface and leapt aside, narrowly avoiding the jiaolong’s furious tail sweep.
One sweep shattered a millennium-old tree that would take three to five people to encircle into splinters. Had it hit a person, it would have been a bloody massacre.
Bold and skilled, Ling Xiaodong seized the moment when the old force faded and the new hadn’t yet taken hold, moving in close and raising his wooden sword to stab at the jiaolong’s emerald eye.
The jiaolong was caught off guard and quickly shifted from solid to ghostly form, twisting its head to avoid the fatal strike.
But the Fusang wooden sword Ling Xiaodong wielded was made to slay spirits.
One slash tore through scales, blood gushing forth.
The jiaolong howled again in pain, its body solidifying as it charged wildly as if mad.
Trees crashed down under its weight, splitting in half at the strike of its sharp horn, and rocks above it were sliced as easily as tofu.
Ling Xiaodong remained calm, weaving through the jiaolong’s frenzied attacks, calculating the time.
The thunderclouds above thickened, low rumbles of thunder erupting within.
Ling Xiaodong sidestepped a horn charge. In the split second as he passed, he caught the cunning glint in the jiaolong’s eyes.
Without turning back, the jiaolong rushed straight ahead.
And straight toward where Yue Yingying was standing.