Volume One: The King's Command Chapter Forty-Two: The Golden Dragon Guards the Soul

“Hiss!” An agonizing pain surged through his body; his meridians were chaotic and shattered. His eyes were tightly shut, unable to open. He was certain he had fallen off a cliff—if not dead, he would at least be severely injured.

How could he possibly be unharmed? As Liu Xiaoyi regained consciousness, he realized his body was in utter disarray—his vital energy was blocked, his blood stagnant, his limbs and bones unresponsive, and wounds that should have been fatal were now enveloped in a viscous liquid.

In a warm and comfortable environment, the wounds tingled, almost itchy. Unaware of his surroundings, Liu Xiaoyi lay submerged in a golden pool within a hidden cave on the cliffside. Little monkeys scurried about, carrying medicinal herbs and tossing them into the water.

Outside the cave, tangled green vines provided the monkeys access to the depths of the mountain forest. The spiritual energy here was dense, rarely disturbed by outsiders; every blade of grass and leaf possessed a hint of sentience, making the herbs far more potent than elsewhere.

Inside the cave, stone tables and benches stood, and thick quilts were spread atop the bed—a clear sign someone resided here. There were five spacious rooms in total; Liu Xiaoyi was in the innermost chamber, where the pool exuded a strong medicinal fragrance. Whenever a greedy little monkey tried to dip its paw in for a taste, a radiant golden dragon spirit would burst forth, frightening them away.

Over time, the monkeys grew indifferent; the golden dragon spirit was merely a spectacle, lacking any real threat. They began to treat it as a plaything, leaping onto its back and frolicking.

The tranquil cave now brimmed with lively energy. At the entrance, several cranes stood guard, as if watching over the home. Their slender wings occasionally fluttered, and they communicated emotions through graceful gestures.

Suddenly, a yellow-robed Taoist descended lightly from above, landing beside the cranes. He drew a handful of grass seeds from his robe and fed them to the birds.

“How is it inside?” the Taoist inquired. The cranes nodded but their meaning was unclear.

With broad sleeves fluttering in the cool breeze, the Taoist made his way to the innermost chamber. Seeing Liu Xiaoyi still asleep in the pool, he sighed and murmured, “Boundless longevity and blessings!”

He took up the whisk from the table stand, sat cross-legged on a meditation mat before the pool, and began reciting scriptures, though the words were indistinct.

As days and nights passed outside, the golden dragon spirit grew weary, but the monkeys remained cheerful, bringing new herbs daily.

Examining Liu Xiaoyi, only his torn clothes testified to his ordeal; his skin was flawless, pure as jade. Even his soul, slightly damaged in the earlier battle, was now full and rejuvenated—he seemed newly born.

The Taoist calculated the days, sensing the time was ripe. He fetched the imperial sword from the wall, brushed it with his fingers, and petals danced through the air, illuminating the cave with vibrant colors.

“Dragon vein, come!” the Taoist called. The golden dragon spirit responded, transforming into a plain token that landed in his hand.

It differed from the imperial token; its design was incomplete. The Taoist raised his hand, eyes wide with intensity, and struck the water's surface. Steam surged, obscuring his vision, as the token was forcefully pressed to Liu Xiaoyi’s chest, sinking into his body upon contact.

Without pause, the Taoist’s hands formed seals, and he opened his mouth to unleash roaring flames, enveloping the stone walls of the pool. This burning lasted for forty-nine cycles of seven hours. Even with his advanced cultivation, the Taoist grew pale.

The fire gradually converged, forming a bagua diagram on Liu Xiaoyi’s chest. In its center, a small golden dragon leapt within. The bagua sealed the flames, refining the dragon spirit. Golden vapors rose, nourishing Liu Xiaoyi’s body through his meridians.

When the bagua stabilized, turning from red to black before vanishing, the Taoist finally relaxed, shouting, “Wake up! What are you waiting for?”

A thunderclap resounded in Liu Xiaoyi’s ears, breaking his reverie. He opened his eyes, leapt from the water, and assumed a defensive stance, scanning for enemies. Yet only a yellow-faced Taoist was there, stroking his beard and smiling kindly.

The Taoist handed him a clean robe to change into, then offered a straw mat for them to sit across from each other. “Ask whatever you wish. I will answer all.”

“Master, I had a strange dream. I dreamt I fell from a cliff and was pierced by sharp rocks, but on waking, I found myself safe in the pool. How can this be?” After the chase horse was injured, both rider and mount tumbled into the ravine, impaled by jagged stones—a fate worse than death. Yet, the yellow-robed Taoist happened upon them.

“The golden dragon spirit preserved your life. That chase horse, surprisingly, carried some dragon blood, which kept your soul from dispersing. When I found you, your body was riddled with wounds, barely intact.”

The Taoist appraised Liu Xiaoyi in his black-and-white robe, which lent him a handsome, dignified air, far more proper than the Taoist himself.

Liu Xiaoyi moved his limbs, finding nothing amiss, though the story sounded incredible. “How can the dead come back to life? My horse and I fell into a death trap. Are you an immortal?”

The Taoist waved his hand hurriedly. “I dare not claim immortality. I borrowed the golden dragon spirit to protect your soul, then used Samadhi True Fire to refine it, sustaining your life. But at most, three to five months—no more than a year. When the fire extinguishes and the dragon spirit breaks free, your life will end.”

The soul is mysterious, its secrets rarely grasped. Once injured, it is nearly impossible to repair.

“Do you know of a way to break the curse?” Liu Xiaoyi, having returned from death, felt surprisingly calm.

“There is a way. Have you heard of the Nine Seals of the Nine Provinces?” the Taoist asked.

Long ago, the founding emperor of the Iron Dynasty, seeking to stabilize the realm and suppress the fate of the nine provinces, commissioned nine great seals, each guarded by a major sect in each province. This was common knowledge among martial artists, and Liu Xiaoyi was no exception.

“The province of Yanliang is of fire. The Fire Seal can help you fully refine the golden dragon spirit and strengthen your soul.”

Liu Xiaoyi’s expression darkened. The Nine Seals were supreme treasures, fiercely guarded—how could an outsider access them? Even ordinary heroes had never seen them. The Taoist’s suggestion seemed wildly improbable.

The Taoist handed him a jade slip and a Tianwang Dao robe. “The Fire Seal is within Tianwang Dao. This is an inner disciple’s token and robe. If you become the sect leader’s heir, the Fire Seal will be yours to use freely.”

Liu Xiaoyi wanted to ask more, but the Taoist rose to see him off, ushering him to the cave entrance and helping him onto a crane’s back. The Taoist offered final advice, repeating twice: “When you enter Tianwang Dao, advance at flowers, retreat at trees, follow the water upstream, descend against the wind—remember these words!”

The crane spread its wings and soared into the sky, carrying Liu Xiaoyi aloft. He called out, “Master! You’ve saved my life—please tell me your name so I may repay you someday!”

“The yellow crane flies never to return, white clouds drift for a thousand ages! Liu Xiaoyi, fate will bring us together again…”

The Taoist turned back to the cave, swept his sleeve to collect his belongings, and swaggered away, disappearing into the dense forest.