Chapter Forty-Four: The Villager Li Hualong

Even if their fate was miserable, Shangguan Chuanyun would never sacrifice his own life for their sake.

If he failed to kill the three of them this time, and instead intimidated everyone only to have them stirred up, leading to a frenzied attack against his small group, then even though his people were the elite among elites, facing several thousand adversaries, perhaps no more than three would survive.

Even if given ten chances to choose again, Shangguan Chuanyun would still choose to kill the father and his two sons.

When Li Hualong handed over two dog fangs, each four feet long, Shangguan Chuanyun studied them for a while and realized these were neither fiendish nor corpse teeth, but contained a trace of human fortune.

He thought it over and found the sensation resembled the aura within an official’s seal. It made sense—these dogs had once belonged to several local officials, used to intimidate the populace.

Later, when the officials died, the authority bestowed upon the dogs remained, thus they continued to plague the region.

So, the fangs contained a residue of human fortune, nurtured by the luck of the county magistrate and others, and eventually formed something akin to an official’s seal. Once their fangs were broken, the dogs lost their power to attack and became ordinary strays.

Yet there was still a pack left; Li Hualong had proven himself quite capable.

Looking upon the henchmen remaining after the deaths of the old man and his sons, Shangguan Chuanyun saw they were still a blight. Glancing at Li Hualong, an idea took shape. He pointed at the group of vagrants and asked Li Hualong, “If you led these people, could you find them a path to survival?”

Li Hualong gave it some thought and replied, “I believe so. Though I am not especially talented, I have often led villagers into the mountains to hunt and taken them to the county town to procure supplies. The numbers here are larger, but the principle should be much the same. I cannot guarantee that every single person will survive, but I am confident most can reach the north safely.”

“Very well, I leave these refugees to you,” said Shangguan Chuanyun.

Li Hualong considered this. He realized it was a way out—indeed, even if he wished to refuse, the young man’s manner in killing the old man and his sons meant he dared not openly decline. Judging by the youth’s wealth and status, the fact that he was being entrusted with a task meant he was still considered valuable. Should he fail, he would be of no further use in the eyes of this nobleman.

So, he bowed and cupped his hands. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Shangguan Chuanyun nodded, and after a moment said, “Wait a moment, I’ll make you something.”

With that, he took the two stray dog fangs into his carriage. He dug out the Nine Aperture Pill Furnace from a trunk, sat cross-legged, circulated his pill essence, channeled it through the Lesser Yin Heart Sutra, and sent a ball of flame from his fingertip into the furnace.

This time, the flame had transformed; from a pale yellow, it was now a blue wisp, visibly more potent, capable of scorching one’s spirit.

This was the result of Shangguan Chuanyun’s recovery after last time—a sword piercing through Monk Wuchen’s jaw had marked a breakthrough in his cultivation. With his pill essence robust and his Small Return Pill stabilized, he had filled three of his meridians in one go.

As the Lesser Yin Heart Sutra passed through his heart—an organ of fire—the pill flame, now aligned with its attributes, grew vastly more powerful, far surpassing his previous strength.

Once the furnace was preheated, Shangguan Chuanyun opened it, tossed in the two four-foot dog fangs, and added some Yellow Dragon Jade. Soon, the contents melted into a liquid, into which he refined the trace of human fortune as well.

Gradually, the mixture formed a palm-sized seal. Shangguan Chuanyun carved esoteric runes upon it, their script archaic and imbued with the ability to gather popularity and absorb authority, similar to the divine seals used by gods to wield power.

He mused that this item would spare Li Hualong much trouble; its true use would become clear only as it was nourished by the devotion of people over time.

Stowing away the pill furnace, he emerged from the carriage with the finished seal.

Li Hualong understood that, as long as he accepted this, his prospects would not be poor. Every man longs for success; many are capable, but many capable men remain destitute simply for missing their chance.

He realized this was his own opportunity; if missed, it would not come again. Nervous, he waited as the young lord stepped from the carriage, still bearing the black case on his back and the three-foot sword at his waist, but this time holding a new item—a bright yellow seal, palm-sized.

Shangguan Chuanyun handed him the seal. “Take this. It is crafted from the dog fangs you brought, fused with other materials. With it, commanding your people will be much easier.”

Li Hualong examined the seal: simple, dignified, shining yellow, with mysterious runes carved upon it.

He saw the young lord smiling at him, saying nothing. Li Hualong understood he was expected to state his allegiance. A dissatisfying answer, and he would be little more than a temporary hire; a satisfactory one, and the young man would be generous.

So Li Hualong raised the seal high, knelt, and declared, “Your servant Li Hualong thanks Lord Chuanyun for granting me this seal.”

Shangguan Chuanyun stepped forward, helped him up, and patted his shoulder. “Good. I leave these people to you. I see that most of them are able-bodied; if used well, they could become the foundation of your fortune.”

Li Hualong understood immediately—he was being told to arm these men. But, destitute as he was, he protested, “Yes, my lord, but we currently lack funds and provisions…”

“Money, food, and weapons need not trouble you—I will arrange for all of that. As for what you do with it in the future, that is up to you.”

Li Hualong realized this was essentially being paid to raise a private army. A hero dies for a confidant. He knelt again. “Whatever command you give, sir, I, Hualong, will carry out unto death, without hesitation.”

Shangguan Chuanyun helped him up with a smile. “There is no kneeling among my followers. A true man kneels only to heaven, earth, and his parents. In the future, a bow with clasped hands will suffice.”

“Yes, my lord,” Li Hualong replied, bowing.

“Good. You need only focus on your destination; you will have everything you need provided along the way. The rest is up to you.”

Then he added, “Bite your finger and let a drop of blood fall upon the seal. Its secrets will become clear to you.”

“At your command.” Li Hualong bit his finger and let a drop of blood fall upon the seal. The seal slowly absorbed it, and he felt a faint connection form, as if it had become a part of him.

He could sense clearly that he now possessed a strange power over the refugees in his care—a natural deterrent, compelling them to instinctively obey his words, just as he had with the wild dogs.

Li Hualong was amazed, his gaze toward Shangguan Chuanyun now transformed. This was truly the craft of immortals. The mysterious man who had taught him martial arts had mentioned similar methods, saying that one day he would command dragons and serpents and inherit fortune as fate allowed.

Could this be a magical treasure that channeled fortune?

Shangguan Chuanyun smiled privately and explained, “This is merely a tool of authority, using the dog fangs as a medium. It monitors your own fortune; the deterrence over your followers is just a side effect.”

Li Hualong finally understood why he felt as if he’d gained the power of the wild dogs. He asked, “May I ask, my lord, how can I best use this seal?”

“The primary material is Yellow Dragon Spirit Jade. The dog fangs are only a medium; the jade is what holds the fortune,” Shangguan Chuanyun replied.

Li Hualong considered this, then asked, “I’ve heard of jade having spirit—of men nourishing jade and jade nourishing men—but I know little of the details. What must I do?”

Shangguan Chuanyun recalled the methods he knew and said, “You need only wear it daily, keep your mind clear, and handle it often, communicating with it in thought. This is the ‘heart communion’ method. After three months, it will show spirit; in a year, it will be partially complete; in three years, truly perfected. After ten years, even in death, you may become a spirit through this seal. Use it wisely.”

Li Hualong felt the weight of this gift—a path not only for the living, but even for the dead. Instinctively, he knelt and declared, “Your servant Li Hualong will not fail your trust. Should I betray you, may heaven strike me down.”

Shangguan Chuanyun looked at him with some surprise. In his past life, anyone sincere and willing to seek could have found such a method within three years—and with earnest study, even just hearing it explained was enough to understand. This practice was real, as evidenced by its transmission through the ages: aside from the true gods, where else had all the hedge gods, ghost soldiers, yin soldiers, and daoist troops come from? It was just that in his former world, it was no longer in vogue.

He glanced at the ten guards and the two coachmen nearby, all of whom were staring at him, eyes shining.

Only then did Shangguan Chuanyun realize that this world lacked the cultural foundation of his previous life. These were secrets, usually held by great clans, who maintained their lineage through ancestor worship, collecting incense offerings, establishing an underworld, accumulating merit, and thus preserving their family for generations.

Though what he had described was merely a method for personal deification, to these people it was a matter of utmost significance.