Chapter 108: Storm and Tempest

The winds of heaven are unpredictable. Black clouds gathered, thunder rolled, and lightning flashed; within the span of a few moments, a torrential downpour cascaded from the skies. What a magnificent rain!

Even in the height of summer, such an immense deluge would be rare; that it should occur in the dead of winter was truly startling.

The carriage sped along. Ma Liu, lacking a straw raincoat, was drenched to the skin, yet with his seasoned expertise, he kept the carriage under steady control. Chen Jianchen had already retreated into the cabin.

Listening to the pitter-patter of raindrops against the carriage roof, which sounded like rain drumming upon plantain leaves, dense and rhythmic, Chen Jianchen wore a solemn expression. Though he knew thunder and rain in winter were not impossible, the timing of this particular storm felt suspicious and coincidental, compelling him to remain alert. Jiao Na sat on the other side, her expression also somewhat strange, lost in her own thoughts.

Xiao Ju asked from the side, "Sir, you are so learned. Why is there thunder and rain today?"

Chen Jianchen was left speechless. The young girl’s question was innocent, but no matter how profound his scholarship, he could not explain why it rained. He was neither the Dragon King nor a celestial deity, so he teased, "It is said that the Dragon King governs the rains of the four seasons. Xiao Ju, you should go to the Dragon King’s temple and ask him why he has sent such a heavy rain today."

Jiao Na remarked, "Where in this world is there a Dragon King?"

Xiao Ju questioned, "Miss, how can there be no Dragon King? If there weren't, where would all those temples come from?"

Jiao Na snorted, "You wouldn't understand."

Chen Jianchen felt a stir in his heart and asked, "Miss Huangfu, are you saying there are no dragons in this world?"

Jiao Na replied, "Father says dragons exist, but a dragon is a dragon, and a Dragon King is a Dragon King; they are not the same thing. It is said that the dragon race can ride the clouds, command the winds, and summon the rain, but that is a completely different matter from the 'Dragon God' of folklore who governs the weather."

Though she was not fond of books, having spent years by her father's side, she had heard many hidden truths.

Chen Jianchen pressed, "Then what did Master Huangfu say a dragon looks like?"

Jiao Na shook her head. "Father never said. I suspect he has never seen one either."

This was likely the plain truth. Although Master Huangfu was an old fox who had cultivated for centuries and seen countless wonders, whether he had truly seen a dragon was debatable; much of what he knew likely stemmed from hearsay. Yet, from Jiao Na's words, Chen Jianchen could infer deeper implications.

So-called gods were merely manifestations of the common people's collective will, brought into being by their prayers. As for the local deities and city gods, they were simply spirits appointed by the Underworld. Legends of immortals were merely the exploits of high-level cultivators. The common folk, ignorant and easily awed, worshipped them as gods.

Even if dragons existed, they belonged to the category of demons—possessing innate, formidable bodies and long lifespans. Because they could summon wind and rain, it was natural for the people to dub them "Lord Dragon King." Thus, temples sprouted everywhere, and in times of drought, the people would offer sacrifices, begging the Dragon King for rain.

Yet, no matter how pious their devotion or how lavish their offerings, it was doubtful whether a true dragon could even hear them; and even if they did, it was even more doubtful they would exert their power to intervene.

Thus, droughts occurred year after year, and prayers were offered annually, yet timely rains were rare. Even when it did rain, it was likely just a matter of coincidence. When it didn't, certain charlatans would blame the supplicants, claiming their hearts were insincere. That single excuse, "insincerity," was enough to silence all doubt—much like the infamous phrase "it may be so."

The carriage began to jolt. Chen Jianchen sat steady, his mind wandering in all directions, piecing together his thoughts on this world to form a coherent worldview and gain a clearer understanding.

"Miss, Sir, we have arrived home."

Before long, the carriage stopped outside the gates of the Hu Manor. Servants immediately emerged with oiled-paper umbrellas to escort them inside.

"Where is Father?" Jiao Na asked as soon as she alighted.

The servant, A-Fu, replied respectfully, "The Master left around noon and said he would not be back today."

Jiao Na gave a soft "Oh."

A-Fu continued, "The Master is truly uncanny. When he left, he told me it might rain by this evening and instructed us to close the windows tight. I didn't believe him, but then the thunder and rain came, exactly as he predicted."

"What?" Jiao Na’s expression turned anxious. Her father had predicted the thunder and rain—could he have summoned this storm himself?

At this realization, her heart tightened, and she turned to dash back out.

Chen Jianchen was quick; he caught her by the arm and said in a deep voice, "Miss Huangfu, the wind is fierce and the rain is heavy—where are you going?"

Jiao Na cried, "I must go find my father!"

Chen Jianchen commanded, "Have you already forgotten what happened today?" Jiao Na froze.

Chen Jianchen continued, "The old master's whereabouts are unknown, and we don't know what he is doing. Where could you possibly go to find him?" In truth, upon hearing A-Fu's words, he felt that Master Huangfu’s prophecy held deep significance. However, with the situation unclear, he could not yet draw further conclusions.

Recalling their departure that morning, Chen Jianchen was certain that Master Huangfu had orchestrated this trip to Suzhou specifically to send his daughter away, allowing him to face some potentially dangerous task alone. Thus, he had to stop Jiao Na from leaving.

"But..." Jiao Na remained desperate.

Chen Jianchen stated firmly, "To panic in the face of trouble only invites disaster. Miss Huangfu, do you not trust that your father will be safe?"

He paused, then added, "Since the old master knew the storm was coming, he must have made thorough preparations. If you act rashly, you will only ruin his plans."

After a long moment of contemplation, Jiao Na finally yielded to Chen Jianchen's advice and remained at the manor.

Chen Jianchen returned to the east wing. Instead of going inside, he stood on the veranda with his hands behind his back, gazing out. The rain was like a curtain, obscuring everything, but he knew that in the direction he was looking stood the imposing mountain range—the Southern Ridge of the Eastern Mountains.

As the rain raged and the world blurred, a monk named Fuxiao appeared within the deluge. Clad in pure white, he stepped upon a three-foot wooden board, gliding across the mud without a single speck of dirt touching him—a truly ethereal and miraculous sight. He held an oiled-paper umbrella; no matter how heavy the rain, an invisible force repelled the droplets inches from the surface, scattering them away.

"Where I go, the winds and rains follow; a single boat ferries all living souls. Let the dragons and serpents dance, my true self attains eternity..."

Using the three-foot board as a boat, he drifted like moving clouds and flowing water, as if never touching the earth itself. He was headed toward the Southern Ridge of the Eastern Mountains.