192 - Divine Mastering Dragon System

Chapter 192: Remembrances "Miss, this way." The unfamiliar woman's hand was rough yet warm. As she grasped Fu Zhi's cold little hand, a sudden sense of reassurance washed over the girl. She looked up and saw, through what seemed like a veil of white gauze, the back figure of a short, stout woman dressed in simple clothes. Fu Zhi's father's old acquaintance had discreetly snuck her out while escorting a felon into the city—a daring move that spared the only daughter of an old friend. Fearing the repercussions of having a wanted person in his residence, he left the girl in the care of a village woman, asking her to hide the child temporarily in the countryside to avoid the searches by the Duke of Northern Town. The girl, graced with a photographic memory, recalled her past encounters with this woman. She remembered that this peasant woman had once been a servant in her house, falsely accused of theft during her tenure. Fu Zhi, playing in the garden, had discerned from appearances that this woman was not a thief, and intervened on her behalf. Years later, the woman's brother was wrongfully imprisoned, and Fu Zhi’s father, upon investigating, vindicated him. Fu Zhi remembered how grateful the woman had been to their family. Three years ago, when she finally saved enough to buy her own freedom, Fu Zhi's mother did not object but instead helped find her a new place. Having been sold by her family in her youth, the woman had no home. Thanks to Fu Zhi's father's connections, she managed to settle and farm in the north, presumably living well. Fu Zhi touched the coarse yet warm cotton coat draped over her, sensing that the woman's household wasn't in dire straits for money. Fu Zhi tried to find any reason why this woman might bear her ill will or mean her harm, but she came up empty. The kind woman didn’t seem capable of betrayal. A troop of soldiers, upon hearing the commotion outside the city, headed towards the gate. The woman quickly pulled Fu Zhi into an alley, shielding her with her own body. Fu Zhi stood in the dim alleyway, gazing towards the exit, her vision blurred by the white mist. She could only see a few hazy figures pass by, unable to make out anything else. The woman crouched, dusting off her clothes, "Miss, are you still cold?" Fu Zhi shook her head, "Not cold." Her voice trembled from the chill. Seeing the girl's exposed, pale ankles, the woman spoke with concern, "I should have brought you warmer shoes. These feel like rocks, and your pants don't even cover your ankles..." "No need to trouble yourself," Fu Zhi replied obediently. "My son is about your age. I'll fetch a new pair of shoes for you when we get home." As the patrol left, the woman took Fu Zhi's hand and they continued down the alley. "..." So she has a son. Does she have other plans for me? Fu Zhi scrutinized the back of the woman's head with suspicion. She couldn’t fathom any reason for the woman to harbor ulterior motives. Tasked by an old acquaintance of her father, the woman clearly acted out of gratitude for past kindness. But why was there a shadow of misfortune clinging to her? Tracing the lines on the woman's hand, Fu Zhi noted a long life line. Though insignificant now, one day the woman would rise to great fortune. The dark aura didn’t stem from the woman’s fate ending soon; instead, it originated from Fu Zhi, the so-called harbinger of disaster. "Hold on a bit longer. My husband is meeting us at the market. Once we join him, I'll take you home... You'll be safe soon." The woman couldn’t help but gently pat the girl’s head, feeling sorrow for her plight. Fu Zhi nodded. She believed that if she hid in the countryside, good fortune might soon free her from the entanglements of the Duke of Northern Town. But her home... she may never return. If only she hadn’t been so clever, perhaps the Fu family wouldn’t have faced such a downfall. Months ago, Duke Shen Shuo of Northern Town hosted a grand banquet for his mother’s fiftieth birthday. An invitation from the regent, one who wielded power over the realm, was beyond the Fu family's dreams. Governor Fu knew that without his talented daughter, even as a border governor, he wouldn't even have access to the Duke's gate, let alone any presence before nobility. Ecstatic, the Governor noticed his daughter was uncharacteristically anxious. Fu Zhi hesitated, "The Duke may have ambitions. Regardless of what I say, danger looms for us both." Whatever Fu Zhi's opinions, she sensed Shen Shuo’s rebellious intentions. Now that he held the highest position as a minister, he befriended seers like her—if not actively guarding against them, he might ensure permanent silence. Not only Fu Zhi but the entire Fu family might face ruin. However, declining the invitation felt equally suspicious—offending the Duke's prestige. Fu Zhi feigned illness, but she and her father secretly arrived a day ahead of the birthday banquet at the Duke’s residence. She decided not to dwell on the experience at Shen’s mansion, except for meeting the Duke's daughter, Shen Ming Ke, who was a few years her junior. Shen Ming Ke had ties to the celestial path, but everyone in the Shen residence carried a dark brow, including the girl Fu Zhi met in the garden. If Shen Ming Ke were to tread the righteous path, she would need a rebirth of sorts... Seeing Fu Zhi watching his daughter, a stern man behind her remarked coldly, "Is there anything in my daughter worthy of the celestial master’s notice?" Fu Zhi said, "This girl is destined for great things." The Fu father and daughter returned safely. Just as they returned, an imperial edict arrived at the Fu residence, promoting the governor to a post in the capital. When the golden yellow silk was taken from the chest, Fu Zhi was stunned: a mass of dense black aura entwined the edict, nearly obscuring the face of the messenger. Her face turned pale as she gazed upon it, momentarily forgetting to kneel and accept the decree. Not until her mother gave her sleeve a harsh tug did Fu Zhi drop to her knees, her legs weak. It was just the beginning; being ecstatic as the border governor was understandable, but relocating the entire family to the capital spelled untold trials. Fu Zhi felt despair. That night, she calculated all possible paths in her room, but the divination board was silent, foreboding only tragic endings no matter the choice. She couldn’t comprehend: was this fate’s jest? Granting her innate skills only to helplessly watch as her loved ones marched into the abyss while she remained powerless. There must be… there must be a way to change things. She was determined to find it. She didn't know how, but she fell into a haze of sleep. In her dream, Fu Zhi seemed trapped in a black box, able to peer into the outside world through a slit of light, where a world of demons unfolded, grotesque figures acting out scenarios in ink wash. Fu Zhi saw armored soldiers charging under a general’s lead, and a young man in a golden yellow robe of authority maneuvering against the General, with a golden dragon leaping off the embroidery to soar in the sky. At the feet of two giants—one yellow, one black—tiny blurred figures scurried in panic, crushed effortlessly. Fu Zhi clawed at the wall, her eyes brimming with tears, pounding against it, wailing at the tiny figure overwhelmed beneath a black boot. Though the inked blotches barely formed a human shape, she knew it was her father. Suddenly, mortals vanished, and a vague silhouette of a woman in white appeared before Fu Zhi, reaching out to her. The hand emitted a gentle white glow as it reached into the dark box. Fu Zhi instinctively grabbed the hand, its touch peculiar, akin to a cold, smooth jade. The scene blurred and shifted again: she saw herself in a celestial sect, dressed identically to those around her, standing on a cliff watching a mighty dragon soaring, its tail severing a mountainside. The waterfall emanating from the mountain seemed to cascade into the abyss. The dragon with eyes like molten gold roared to the heavens, its lithe form a masterful ink stroke across the horizon, each scale exuding majesty. Noticing the tiny human at the cliff's edge, the black dragon turned, lunging toward her. Its gaping maw, large enough to swallow a house, threatened to consume Fu Zhi and the ground beneath her. Realization dawned on Fu Zhi that this was no dream-induced vision—this was reality, still far in the future. Awakening from the dream, Fu Zhi found herself on the floor, soaking in cold sweat. The chaotic dream lingered in her mind. In her panic, she accidentally knocked over the divination board's wooden sticks. Standing, Fu Zhi noticed something different about it. She stared blankly at the divination signs—an escape path had appeared. Are Mother and the others… alright now? Has Father reached the border yet? Following the village woman through the dim alley, Fu Zhi suddenly looked up. She had mistaken the cold sensation on her nose for rain, only to realize it was the gentle descent of snow. Frankly, she wasn't sure if this would indeed be the best outcome. Just as she anxiously approached her father to disclose the divination results, a chilling sense of crisis hit her, making her hesitate when faced with his puzzled expression. She had stolen a life from Heaven for her family, and she should expect to pay the price for it. The only escape for her family was defying the emperor's decree. Going to the capital would embroil them in the deadly conflict between Duke Shen Shuo and the emperor's faction. In Fu Zhi's predictions, her entire family—a hundred souls—wouldn't escape. That official edict was commanded by the Duke of Northern Town; the young emperor had no choice but to comply, yet he harbored resentment. The day after the decree was issued, Fu's father petitioned, claiming illness, requesting resignation and return to his hometown. How the two of them negotiated this, Fu Zhi did not know. In the end, her father was stripped of his position and exiled in Shen Shuo's fury, but the rest of the family was spared. Fu Zhi, however, found herself discarded to the northern lands at the behest of the Duke’s manipulations. Her once clear celestial eyes were gradually veiled, her powers being withdrawn by the Heavens. Even the faint shadows before her eyes were slipping toward darkness. Snowflakes fell on her lips, and Fu Zhi instinctively licked them, her blurred vision unable to distinguish the falling snow further. The cold wind seeped beneath her cotton coat. The peasant woman guided her through winding alleys of the small town. As they neared the market, she looked around and spotted her anxious husband waiting afar, her face brightening with hope, "Miss, my husband is just ahead. You're nearly safe..." But the girl who had been following her was nowhere to be seen. She had held Fu Zhi's hand tightly, yet when she opened her palm, only a jade pendant remained—a piece no larger than a baby's hand. Fu Zhi, born with celestial sight and clutching jade at birth, had already lost her family because of her eyes. Perhaps there was no point in keeping the jade any longer. Realizing she had lost the girl, the peasant woman frantically retraced her steps, searching everywhere. The girl was nearly blind, clad only in a thin cotton garment; where could she have gone? The snow fell harder. By dusk, the woman had to return to the market, unsuccessful in her search. Before she got close, her husband shouted angrily, "Where have you been? What took you so long? I’ve been freezing here for half a day!" The woman was about to say something, but her husband noticed she had not returned with the promised girl, and furiously grabbed her shoulder, lowering his voice, "Where is the girl?" The woman touched the jade in her sleeve. The strange stone felt warm even in the snow, but before she could explain, the man's face darkened further: "Do you have any idea how much she's worth? You've lost ten taels of gold!" "You...! The Fu family showed us kindness, how dare you consider such a scheme!" the woman whispered furiously. "Tch, what do you know? I should've gone myself, you're such a fool; I'll deal with you later!" The man spat and jabbed her shoulder twice more before storming towards their ox cart. Watching her husband go, the woman gripped the jade tightly. Did the girl foresee this, and that’s why she ran away? She quietly hid the jade, hoping for a day when she could return it to its rightful owner. So cold... Below her knees was numb. The nearly blind girl couldn't have gone far, not with weather like this—strong winds and snow could easily sweep such a fragile body away. Worse than the cold was the hunger Fu Zhi, a former lady of wealth, now rarely experienced. It felt as if her stomach held a piece of icy iron; every step through the snow only jarred it further. She hadn’t touched a drop of water for two days, and the energy spent keeping pace with the woman had drained her completely. Dry coughs and hunger became a dull pain, constantly demanding her attention. The Temple of the City God at the outskirts lay in disrepair, open to the winds, yet still shelter. Shivering, Fu Zhi huddled in a corner of the broken temple, wrapping her arms around her legs and closing her eyes. Briefly losing consciousness in the cold wind, Fu Zhi dreamt once more of those strange visions. A black dragon writhed in dark clouds, its roars deafening. The battlefield below was littered with weapons; Fu Zhi stood on blood-soaked ground, the earth beneath her feet sodden. Nearby, hundreds of twisted corpses lay scattered, one body particularly staring up at her while its severed lower half twitched faintly. Fearful, accusing eyes fixed on Fu Zhi made her step back instinctively. Rain began to fall, and Fu Zhi looked up to see a shadow appear behind the black cloud, confronting the fierce dragon— Again, this dream. Ever since the peculiar vision two months ago, every sleep brought scenes of massacre and ruin wrought by the black dragon, leaving Fu Zhi puzzled yet instinctively fearful. Despite efforts to wake herself, fatigue often overpowered her. In these dreams, sometimes Fu Zhi was herself; more often, she was someone else, witnessing scenes of slaughter, fleeing desperately from the dragon. At times she was the only living being in the dream; sometimes a shapeless figure would battle the dragon amidst its summoned storm clouds. A dry cough wracked her throat, and Fu Zhi crawled painfully to a patch of ceiling open to the elements, where snow had gathered. She scooped some semi-clean snow into her mouth. The melting snow sent a chill through her throat, and Fu Zhi shivered, wiping her lips. Despite the bone-chilling snowstorm, she found herself sweating from the heat. Standing felt dizzying, and she tottered back to the corner where she had lain. A cool hand on her forehead startled Fu Zhi awake, and the blurry-eyed girl flailed, retreating from the unknown presence. A woman’s hand caught her small one; warm compared to Fu Zhi's icy limbs and fevered brow. The hazy figure appeared haloed, her soft voice asked, "Does it hurt? You have a fever." Hearing this, Fu Zhi realized the sharp pain in her head, her paralyzed limbs, and particularly the disturbing warmth as though submerged in hot water. Who? The unfamiliar woman paused, taking off her cloak to wrap it around the girl, feeling her temperature again. Fu Zhi heard her sigh, then the sound of a flickered spark. She turned to find a flicker of orange-red flame dancing on the ground, its heat reaching her outstretched hand. Fu Zhi’s eyes widened—the heat, the cloak—all real. Have they come? Fu Zhi had tried foreseeing her future, but the paths had always been unclear, indistinguishable. Since her father's detention and her enforced exile by the Duke, the divinations became unnervingly sharp, pushing her toward something inevitable. Her way home lay in the celestial gate. The moment she left home, Fu Zhi sensed a strong fateful longing, but the instinctive drive disgusted her. She had always believed there was purpose in her heavenly sight, but now the so-called duty felt futile. She repeatedly questioned, what was the significance of it? If she had been born an ordinary person, her family wouldn't have suffered, and she wouldn't have to ponder these choices. It would have been better if she never existed... Abandoning her family to start anew alone... I refuse. Fu Zhi swatted the stranger's hand away from her forehead: "Leave me alone." Water, food—once warmth reached her bones, hunger gnawed at her insides. The girl stubbornly turned away, rejecting the compassionate stranger’s touch. “Sigh...” The woman sighed, exasperated by the obstinate little beggar. “Warm now?” Fu Zhi stayed silent, pouting as she curled up tighter, her stomach betraying her with a loud growl in the quiet. The woman paused, gently picking up the girl by her knees. Fu Zhi realized her intent and struggled violently in the woman's arms, "Let me go!" Her sharp voice cracked, tinged with desperation, part wail, part plea, prompting the stranger to halt. The woman softly set Fu Zhi beside the fire. Even at this close range, Fu Zhi couldn’t discern her features, but the woman’s gentle concern was evident in her lovely almond-shaped eyes. Her steps light, the woman seemed to glide as she came, and just as quietly, she retreated. Lying by the fire, wrapped in the woman's delicate scent, Fu Zhi felt unnervingly held. Such unnecessary meddling... Letting her freeze or starve unknowingly in her sleep might have been kinder. A subtle sense of grievance seeped from her heart as she watched the figure leave, fading into the outdoor light and snow, without averting her eyes. Her frostbitten hands and feet began to itch and pain her, and the discomfort in her shallow slumber jolted Fu Zhi awake at the slightest sound. The warmth of a spoon touched her lips, alongside an aroma that filled her nostrils. So warm. Before finding this abandoned temple, Fu Zhi had wandered for a long time through the snowy outskirts, her legs numbed by the snow. She couldn’t think of much else except a longing for a hot meal. Yet, the porridge, carefully cooled for her, was surprisingly hard to swallow. Thoughts of her father, likely enduring suffering on the muggy, laborious southern border, made each sip feel oddly poignant. Nonetheless, under the gaze of those captivating eyes, Fu Zhi found herself unable to refuse. When the woman leaned against her, the gentle scent on her body was comforting, sparking a sudden awareness of her long, unwashed state during these months of wandering. Embarrassment surged: “I… can feed myself.” By now, her vision shifted from being pale to increasingly dim; she could barely see the bowl and spoon in her hands, making a half-hearted attempt to eat before setting the bowl aside, ignoring her belly’s protests. If destiny insists on her becoming a cultivator, Fu Zhi resolved to starve herself. Eating only a little to acknowledge the woman's effort, the warmth within increased her dizziness and hunger. Sniffing, Fu Zhi glimpsed a shadow adding wood to the fire. Despite being freshly awakened from her dream, fatigue quickly enveloped her again. As her head lolled to one side, the stranger hurriedly checked her pulse, finally relaxing. In her half-conscious state, Fu Zhi felt something bitter placed in her mouth, followed by warmth from a swallow of water. “Ugh, so bitter…” she winced, only to taste sweetness at her lips, a honey date offered by the woman, which she held in her mouth, letting the sweet linger without chewing. The woman's voice in her drowsy ears came in fragments, yet she recalled the parting words: “Wait for me to return.” Wrapped in a cloak with fox fur trimming, Fu Zhi watched her leave, worry circling her mind—having given her clothing to Fu Zhi, wouldn’t the woman be cold? “You liar! You never… never came back…” Fu Zhi muttered, her words dwindling to a whisper, crouching, wishing she could vanish. Why dwell on such old memories? A cool hand lifted her face, and Fu Zhi heard Xiang Shi Yan’s measured voice: “I traveled north to investigate a disturbance with the demon tribes at the border and had to put saving hostages first. After giving you medicine and binding a piece of my consciousness to you, I left. When I returned, the temple no longer sheltered you, only your sect’s jade token remained. Perhaps it was fate that drew you to them, so I didn’t intervene further.” Xiang Shi Yan wondered if, had she paid more attention to the wandering little beggar back then, the entire story might have altered from that point. But now, all she could do was try to pull Fu Zhi out of her oppressive sense of mission. The heavy jade cylinder being placed into her hands startled Fu Zhi: “What… what is this?” Deep down, she already knew the answer, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Familiar with the sect emblem, Fu Zhi felt the master’s seal on the intact closure, realizing Xiang Shi Yan had stealthily acquired it without breaking the seal—like the scroll she’d found at home during her childhood. With quaking hands, Fu Zhi broke the seal, revealing the empty interior of the jade cylinder. Within lay a small jade slip, unlike the fabricated testament, it held but a single name, perhaps meant for a specific person. She hesitated to touch the engraved name on the jade slip, anxiety overwhelming her. Lifting her eyes to Xiang Shi Yan, who stood silently, she tenderly traced the etched name. Her eyes rimmed with tears, suppressed sobs escaping, tears falling to the jade, filling the carved letters. Xiang Shi Yan watched as Fu Zhi, clutching the jade slip to her chest, silently wept. On the jade slip were two characters: "Jing Shan." Soon, this name would be forsaken by its owner. From the initiation ritual onwards, these master titles were the only identity, aligned with past predecessors, matching Xiang Shi Yan’s mentor’s intentions. Fu Zhi was freed. What about you? What is your name? Xiang Shi Yan pondered, glancing over to the stone platform where someone slept peacefully, noticing they clutched something close to their chest. She approached, gently opening the hand to discover a glossy, well-worn black scale. Author’s Note: Thank you to the little angels who voted and donated nutrient solutions between 2022-11-09 22:35:08 and 2022-11-12 21:44:15~ Special thanks for the nutrient solutions: Admin of Crane Flock with 20 bottles; Fate with 2 bottles; Your support is greatly appreciated, I will continue to work hard! This site has no pop-up ads, permanent domain (xbanxia.com)