With his belly sloshing with tea and a slight ache in his lower abdomen, Lu Qin rode atop a curly-maned Running Cloud Steed, following Yin Yuan as they made their way through the grand Dayin Imperial Palace.
Ten thousand soldiers of the Yu Lin Army formed ten long rows, flanking them on both sides in tight formation.
Over a thousand palace guards and junior eunuchs, fully armed, surrounded them closely.
Behind Lu Qin came a convoy of horse-drawn carriages.
On each four-wheeled carriage sat large water vats—impressively sized, heated from below with small charcoal stoves.
A subtle, peculiar scent suffused the air.
Inside those vats was the boy’s urine collected during the daytime by Yin Xing.
Though Haojing was vast, there were still quite a number of young boys with low cultivation and tender ages—collecting their urine wasn’t difficult at all.
If it weren’t for the taboo nature of doing such a thing openly, or the risk of having too much of this urine inside the palace causing unfavorable effects, Yin Xing could have gathered thousands of vats to store.
Still, even with the charcoal stoves keeping the urine from freezing by maintaining warmth, the pungent aroma was heavy in the air.
Lu Qin was on the verge of collapse.
This was nothing like the life he had imagined after joining the Palace Guard.
He had already braced himself to be a member of the "Eunuch Faction," to wield power shamelessly, wreak havoc on peaceful literary officials, and be vilified to no end — all for the sake of advancing his meditative diagrams, gaining longevity and freedom in the world.
He wasn’t bothered by a little bad reputation.
But this stench — it was an insult on another level.
Under the manipulation of the Le family, he’d become a new national traitor, his name sinking to new lows.
And now, surrounded by this thick stench of boy’s urine...
Lu Qin lowered his head to sniff his own robe sleeve and felt as if his clothes had been marinated in the foul smell.
A silent sigh escaped him.
Ahead, the palace road was shadowy and solemn.
This grand avenue stretched ten zhang wide, paved with giant stones.
On both sides rose thick palace walls, towering dozens of zhang high.
Hanging from the high walls were cow-fat lanterns and torches, illuminating the pathway in bright, clear light.
Every hundred zhang, half-way up the palace wall, a sky bridge spanned across the road.
These bridges held arrow towers, watchtowers, and even huge spiked boards as defensive armaments.
On the palace walls and sky bridges stood soldiers clad in heavy armor.
Lu Qin looked up at these soldiers, his mouth twitching sharply.
These palace guards, dressed for the night, nearly made Lu Qin laugh out loud — each soldier’s belt and breastplate were adorned with yellow paper talismans.
These talismans, three zhang long, were crudely inscribed with vermilion ink or mixed with strange blood plasma, splotched with haphazard ghostly symbols.
Whether these talismans had power or not, Lu Qin wasn’t sure.
Still, seeing these valiant warriors covered head to toe with such symbols struck him as utterly ridiculous.
"Your Majesty, is there not a single grand master in Dayin who can deal with these... ghostly specters?" Lu Qin asked, confused.
"There shouldn’t be none," Yin Yuan answered, covering his nose with a thick silk handkerchief, sniffling weakly.
"There must be some, because the order of Heaven and Earth means there is balance—where there are ghosts, there must be those who can subdue ghosts. Otherwise these spirits would run rampant without check, right?"
Yin Yuan sighed deeply.
"There might be. The ancient fragments in the Secret History Bureau do record some things."
"For example, during the previous dynasty, the Dawu Tian Dynasty, eight thousand li west of Haojing lay a place called Great Buddha’s Head, where there were sightings of great beings flying freely in the air, surrounded by golden light."
"That was recorded over five thousand years ago."
"About three thousand years ago, during the chaotic rebellion of the Seven Princes in the Dawu period, there were records of a giant serpent emerging from underground lairs, devouring millions in three cities and two counties in a day and a night. That great serpent was later struck by a gigantic sword that fell from the sky, slashing it through a vital spot, forcing it to flee."
"Not to mention the previous dynasty’s history, even at the founding of Dayin there were powerful figures who stormed the new imperial city, single-handedly defeating two hundred thousand imperial guards, reaching the first emperor’s throne. That figure claimed fate connected him with the emperor, demanding the emperor bow as his disciple and train under him, but was refused and disappeared."
"Those powerful ones — surely they could handle the ghosts and spirits."
Yin Yuan sighed again.
"But each generation falls short of the last. It’s getting harder and harder to find true masters in Dayin."
"Didn't the Imperial Uncle get fooled? The Wuyou Taoist from the Wuyou Pavilion, and the Six Paths General from the Six Paths Temple— just the other day, he raided their mountain gates with his men. Those two swindlers barely escaped death on the spot."
"The Secret History Bureau even recorded that long ago, those pavilions and temples harbored real grand masters—but now their leaders are but empty shells."
"Of course, forgetting them for a moment, how many of the war-hero nobility in Haojing still seriously practice martial cultivation these days?"
Yin Yuan looked haggard as he glanced at Lu Qin.
"With all of Haojing searched, I only found you — a young boy at Toumai level."
Lu Qin forced a stiff smile.
The procession sped quickly down the palace avenue.
After an hour, they passed three sets of palace gates and arrived in the back garden of the imperial city.
Dayin’s totem was the Kunpeng — the great fish transforming into a giant bird.
Thus, the royal family naturally revered water.
Palace buildings were built around natural water systems, and artificial lakes were added later on a large scale.
At the heart of the imperial back garden lay a vast lake, frozen solid three feet deep this winter.
Within the lake were three to five islets, connected by winding corridors and linked to exquisite pavilions and water galleries.
One pavilion, called the “Envy Fish Pavilion,” resembled a flying wild goose crouching on the water.
Its center was a three-story main hall, with attached wings stretching out east and west, each one story high.
Envy Fish Pavilion wasn’t large — combined buildings covered just over an acre.
Its only connection to the outside was a plank bridge facing due north.
Now, every zhang along that bridge sat a monk in bright red robes, their heads shaved clean.
Whether old or young, every face twitched with sorrow and worry.
On either side of the plank bridge were dozens of wooden rafts, each several zhang wide and long.
On every raft was a ritual altar, decked with talismanic vouchers, flags, swords, and spirit seals — all the tools of the trade.
On each raft also sat an old Taoist, old or young, dressed in apricot yellow and bright red Taoist robes, their faces solemn but forcing calm.
To the south of Envy Fish Pavilion, beyond the vast icy surface, was a fishing observation platform made of white jade.
This platform, covering several acres, now had a large silk canopy sheltering from the wind.
Surrounded by countless eunuchs and palace maids, behind the screen in the bushes could be glimpsed shadows moving, gleaming armor — at least fifty to sixty thousand heavily armored soldiers were hidden there.
What surprised Lu Qin was that all around the canopy were piled countless Buddha statues and god images.
Judging by the gold and jade inlay and the soot-blackened surfaces scorched by incense smoke, these were old relics, worshipped and revered for at least hundreds of years on the altar.
There were so many statues that the fishing platform itself wasn’t big enough, so they spread densely along the lakeshore in both directions.
Next to each Buddha statue sat three to five big monks.
Next to each god image sat five or six old Taoists.
Among them were all sorts of ritual utensils used daily by the monks and Taoists—rag umbrellas, great banners, and more—crowding the statue piles.
Scattered about were many incense burners and censers, burning top-grade incense sticks, sending thick smoke drifting dozens of li away, filling the air with the solemn majesty of a divine realm.
But to Lu Qin, nearly all the monks and Taoists present seemed tense and perspiring profusely.
Clearly, most were nervous, dominated by doubt and fear—only those truly confident would remain calm.
At Yin Yuan’s order, Lu Qin stayed close by within three feet.
Alongside them was Yu Changle, leading a group of eunuch experts attending the party.
The group moved along the lakeshore, passing throngs of Buddha and god statues, until they stepped under the windscreen canopy of the fishing observation platform.
Dozens of vats of warming boy’s urine, steaming and pungent, were brought alongside.
Inside the canopy, on a throne, sat the Empress Dowager Le, a young beauty perhaps eighteen or nineteen, robed in gorgeous brocade and looking dimly troubled.
Around her stood many skilled eunuchs of the inner palace.
Near Le sat Le Wu, clad in full armor, resembling a metal sphere.
His face was rugged and taut, trying to appear composed but betraying his nervousness with twitching cheeks.
Besides them were over a dozen armored young men, including Le Shan and Le Shui.
Upon seeing Yin Yuan enter, the Empress Dowager's face relaxed slightly.
"Good that Your Majesty has come," she said softly.
Yin Yuan rolled his eyes and walked up to her, giving a perfunctory bow.
"Actually, this matter has nothing to do with me at all. The Empress Dowager can handle it well without me."
Le sighed, her beauty like cherry blossoms trembling slightly as she forced a smile.
"I thought, perhaps, Your Majesty might gain some insight. These days, you often complain, wanting to see what a female ghost looks like, don’t you?"
Yin Yuan’s eyes flipped upward as he bellowed, "Hey? Which damned little eunuch in Jiuyuan Garden leaked that? Old Yu, go find out!"
Throwing back his sleeves, he plopped down on the Kunpeng-patterned throne beside the Empress Dowager, crossing his legs loudly.
"Alright, shall we begin? Better to die early and be reborn soon... right, General?"
Le Wu gave a dry laugh.
"Your Majesty is too kind! Empress Dowager, Your Majesty is blessed, and such minor devils and demons—"
Puffing out his chest, Le Wu shouted, "Even without those external masters’ powers, the tens of thousands of elite troops I’ve prepared behind can easily crush any evil spirits."
Patting his chest hard, Le Wu declared, "If they don’t come, fine. But if they dare, I guarantee they won’t return. I’ll personally cleave them down and restore bright Dayin skies, finally shutting those literary officials’ mouths for good!"
As soon as Le Wu finished, every lantern and torch around the lake, including candles and oil lamps on the ritual altars, suddenly flickered, shifting to a blood-red hue.
The entire lake and half the back garden were bathed in ominous red light.
Everyone was engulfed in this unholy crimson glow.
Lu Qin’s eyes bulged; his heart raced wildly.
The overwhelming feeling of danger nearly suffocated him.
He yelled hoarsely, "They... they’re coming!"
From the direction of the Cold Palace, a sudden chorus of terrifying cries exploded.
A dense wave of blood-red cold energy surged upward like a storm gale toward them.
Wherever the blood-colored chill passed, Buddha statues and god images cracked and shattered soundlessly.
(End of Chapter)