Chapter Seventy-Eight: Memories of the Eight Divisions of Heavenly Dragons

Guan Wen could see nothing, but from the other’s breathing he sensed an uncanny familiarity. In his memory, there had been such moments: someone had pressed him, face to face, interrogating mercilessly, slicing at his body with a slender blade.

Had it been before, he would have already screamed out in rage and hatred. But this time, he clenched his teeth and endured, casting aside all the turmoil and entanglement inside him, listening in silence to the sinister hissing.

I did not obtain that secret—without the secret, what use is it to kill you? If the pearl cannot be found, what good does it do to smash the river mussel to pulp? Guan Wen, speak. Tell me that secret, the one related to the Rakshasa Witch. You sacrificed tens of thousands of lives to destroy her—what a colossal waste in this universe. We, on the other hand, want to harness that power, turn it into a supreme weapon. Which of these is more meaningful? Of course, it is our way. Speak, just say it and I will release your woman, all right? That voice spoke again.

I don’t know, Guan Wen replied helplessly.

You don’t know? Very well, very well, your woman will be terribly disappointed. She will be humiliated because of your dishonesty, her body left exposed in the wild. This time, she shall repeat her former fate, the voice sneered lewdly.

Who are you? Guan Wen gently turned his head toward the source of the voice.

Me? I am your greatest enemy across eight cycles of reincarnation. Unfortunately, in every one of those cycles, our relationship has always been adversarial and unchanged. Every time, I was the one who killed you, sending you away with resentment and grief. If you must blame someone, blame the god of fate for this arrangement, heheheh… the voice laughed.

No, I can’t find anything, came Tang Jue’s voice again. I have a feeling that in the ‘Celestial Beings’ cycle, he was actually ignorant. Even if we sent him back to the era of the Daodejing, it would be useless. I think it’s time for him to enter the ‘Dragon Beings’ cycle, to see what he gains in the second reincarnation.

A book—Guan Wen truly remembered, his ultimate fate and mission were tied to a book, but definitely not the Daodejing.

Very well, the voice agreed.

When Guan Wen awoke, dawn was just breaking. He was seated upright on a swiftly moving two-wheeled chariot, heading into a towering ancient city.

In his arms was a gray cloth scroll, about three feet long.

Where am I? he murmured, then unfurled the scroll.

It was a simple ancient map, every place name inscribed in seal script.

“Master, we have entered Xianyang,” called out the warrior driving ahead.

Guan Wen’s hand trembled, and from the center of the scroll slipped an ancient short sword, falling at his feet. Suddenly, he understood—this life, he was Jing Ke, who presented the map and, when the map ended, revealed the dagger to assassinate the King of Qin.

He alighted from the chariot, ascended a hundred stone steps, and came face to face with the historical figure both revered and reviled by multitudes—the First Emperor.

Clutching the scroll, he advanced slowly, laid it on the low table before the King, and pointed out, one by one, the cities ceded by Yan.

“I am the Son of Heaven, the Dragon of Earth, the King of Men. All under heaven are my land, all within the seas are my subjects.” The awe-inspiring King of Qin grasped Guan Wen’s shoulder, fixed him with a cold gaze, and pressed down on his hand, which was already gripping the sword hilt. “You would kill me? That is not how reincarnation decrees it. You will never succeed. Reincarnation is history, history is truth, truth is reincarnation… This cycle of life and death, when you are within it, you cannot see its threads, can you?”

With a wave of Qin Shi Huang’s hand, Guan Wen was cast down the steps, but the sword remained in his grasp. He leaped up and lunged at the Emperor’s chest.

Qin Shi Huang laughed, drifting backward, right hand on his sword hilt but not drawing it.

Behind him stood countless thick, black pillars. As he retreated and Guan Wen pursued, after several movements, the Emperor faded behind the columns.

As Guan Wen closed in, a cold blade flashed before his eyes—only for an instant—and he was run through the throat, blood gushing five feet as he fell.

The First Emperor’s face swam into his failing vision, full of contempt and disdain: “I am a dragon, the dragon of fate, soaring above the nine heavens; you are also a dragon, but with ill fortune, imprisoned in the abyss. All dragons are not alike. This is your destiny…”

Jing Ke’s assassination of the King of Qin comes from Liu Xiang’s “Strategies of the Warring States” in the Western Han. It was a flawless plan, yet heaven would not let Qin fall; the Emperor did not die, and the outcome became thus:

“So he drew and struck at Jing Ke, cutting his left thigh. Jing Ke, crippled, raised his dagger at the King but missed, striking the pillar. The King struck again, inflicting eight wounds. Knowing he had failed, Jing Ke leaned against the pillar and laughed, sitting cross-legged and cursing, ‘The reason this failed is because you tried to seize me alive, to ensure the covenant with the Crown Prince.’ The guards rushed in and beheaded Jing Ke.”

Until today, this had only been a story Guan Wen had read; only now did he know that his tragic fate had begun in that distant age. A profound sorrow enveloped him—he wished to say nothing, think nothing, only to lie quietly and slip alone into death.

Since ancient times, every nation’s records have revered the dragon as sovereign among water creatures. In this struggle between life and death, every individual’s power reached its peak. Thus, the Dragon Beings were the most valorous of the Eight Divisions of Heavenly Dragons, and closest to the state of “immediate Buddhahood.” According to Indian texts, among the Dragon Kings was Sagara, the Sea Dragon King, whose daughter, at the age of eight, listened to the Buddha preach the Lotus Sutra on Vulture Peak, then offered a jewel, instantly transformed into a man, ascended on clouds, and journeyed south to the Pure World, manifesting Buddhahood to save all beings…

Guan Wen listened motionless to Tang Jue’s narration. Suddenly, two tears welled from his eyes and slid down, dampening his cheeks.

He felt unwilling, for in the grand assassination of Jing Ke, Yan had crafted a flawless plan, drawing the King with a map as bait. There was no flaw. He could have succeeded in one strike, earning eternal glory, becoming the idol of all warriors.

Guan Wen, do you remember now? Before you undertook that assassination, what was the other thing you were preparing? Tang Jue pressed.

This time, Guan Wen suddenly realized: The King of Qin, having swept through the six kingdoms and unified the world, was hated by all, so countless assassins vied to take his life, yet none succeeded. Why? It could not be coincidence. It was because the King of Qin possessed another immense power.

He blurted out: Tang Jue, haven’t you already possessed that power?

Qin Shi Huang Ying Zheng ascended the throne at thirteen, proclaimed himself emperor at thirty-nine, and ruled for thirty-seven years. He established the imperial system, implemented the Three Lords and Nine Ministers, abolished feudal divisions for the commandery-county system, unified writing, standardized axle widths, unified weights and measures, repelled the Xiongnu in the north, conquered the Baiyue in the south, and built the Great Wall. He propelled China into an era of centralization, laying the foundation for two thousand years of political structure, earning the Ming thinker Li Zhi’s praise as “the Emperor of the Ages.”

No mortal could possess such power. Thus, Qin Shi Huang was truly of the Dragon Beings.

This time, the voice sighed with infinite sentiment: Yes, I once held such might, but in that era I could not withstand the passage of time, so I sent expeditions to sea to seek the elixir of immortality on Penglai, Fangzhang, and Yingzhou. Alas, time waits for no one; before the elixir arrived, my mortal shell had decayed… If the Celestial Beings ultimately die, then the Dragon Beings cannot escape death either, can they?

Tang Jue continued: Guan Wen, you must understand, everyone has regrets. The dead are gone; the living can make amends. Using this life to atone for the errors of the last—that is the most important meaning behind the existence of the six realms of reincarnation.

After recalling the Celestial and Dragon Beings cycles, Guan Wen vaguely felt that the secret Tang Jue sought was the very one he had pondered so deeply.

Now, it seemed as if his mind and body were separate, and in this state of stepping outside himself, he could reflect to the utmost.

When first trapped by Tang Jue’s secret art, all he thought about was demon-slaying. Now, his consciousness was transforming rapidly, evolving from a singular focus on exorcism to a deeper pondering: Why do demons exist? What harm do they cause? What would the world be like after they’re gone…

Exorcism is a battle between humans and demons, but from the words of Tang Jue and that voice, Guan Wen now understood: it was in fact a battle between people.

I truly don’t remember, I truly… don’t remember… Guan Wen felt suffocated, as if bound to a chariot at full gallop, not knowing when he would become mere cannon fodder.

Indeed, even if he recovered his memory within Tang Jue’s secret art of eight lives and deaths, and revealed the secret, would he be spared? Absolutely not. Without the secret, he was useless—he would only die faster, and in greater misery.

Speak! Quickly! My patience is running thin—

Speak now. This time you can save yourself, and your woman too. I am giving you this chance. If you do not cherish it, in this eighth reincarnation, the only outcome is to be utterly destroyed—Tang Jue and the voice pressed close to either ear, one threatening, one enticing, both after the same secret.

Guan Wen summoned the last of his strength and laughed heartily: “Since the ancient days, who has not died? What is death to fear? What could be worse than dying in despair after enduring endless torment and humiliation? I have been through it all. Would someone who has survived the torments of purgatory still fear this world’s tortures?”

His laughter scattered everything, making all the illusions around him recede like water.

Guan Wen realized he was still bound to the iron mesh in the snake pit. The number of vipers had swelled, and soon a sea of snakes would bury him.

This time, it was truly farewell. He smiled to himself: Farewell, Baoling; farewell, Qingcheng. If there is another life, let us meet again and hold hands.

To be devoured by myriad snakes is a terror beyond words, but after enduring Tang Jue’s secret art of eight lives and deaths, Guan Wen’s outlook had changed so much that death no longer frightened him.

With a bang, someone burst open a black iron door at the side, wielding a buzzing chain saw, striding boldly into the snake pit, swinging left and right. The three-foot saw whirred like a lightsaber from Star Wars, slicing the vipers in two.

“Guan Wen, I’m here to save you! Don’t panic!” Xiao Huo’s voice thundered like a god’s, igniting Guan Wen’s will to survive.

The snake pit seethed. The spattering blood and scattered remains drove the other vipers to further madness. Several crimson serpents leapt through the air, aiming for Xiao Huo’s face.

With a flourish borrowed from Peking Opera, Xiao Huo crossed the saw in a flashing pattern. Three vipers were halved, two more gutted, becoming a feast for their brethren.

Soon, he had cut a bloody path to the iron web.

The net was anchored by four steel pillars descending from the ceiling, each as thick as a thumb, with the chains binding Guan Wen forged from refined steel, unbreakable. Each chain was locked with a fist-sized bronze lock.

Xiao Huo tried the saw on the chains, sparks flying, but they did not budge. There was no time to search for keys, as the vipers regrouped and surged forward.

“Gotta risk it!” Xiao Huo leapt up, swinging the saw like a cleaver with both arms, hacking at the pillars.

With a crack, one steel pillar snapped. Then, in quick succession, he severed three more and caught the sagging net.

“Hold on! I’ll get you out!” Xiao Huo bent down, hoisted Guan Wen and the iron net onto his back, steadied them with his left hand, and wielded the saw with his right, charging out the door he’d come from.

Once outside, they climbed two more flights of stairs—over thirty steps—before finally reaching the ground via a side door at the northwest corner of the main building.

Spent, Xiao Huo’s legs buckled, and the iron net bore him to the ground. On his back, legs, and arms still clung a dozen half-dead vipers, remnants of those he’d severed after they’d bitten him, their fangs embedded in his flesh. There’d been no time to pull them out while fleeing.

“Xiao Huo—”

“Guan Wen—”

Voices rushed near; it was Gu Qingcheng and Baoling.

“Sister Gu… Task accomplished… I got Mr. Guan out, you can rest easy… Anything you instruct… I will do… I will definitely do it… cough, cough…” Xiao Huo coughed up blood, each mouthful turning darker and more purple. “It was I who brought Kalle, who brought you all to Nepal, so I killed Kalle with my own hands… and will bring you all home safely…”

As Guan Wen witnessed this, a tidal wave of emotion surged in his heart.