Chapter 100: The Young Cultivator and the Flood Dragon

The strange occurrences in Ghost King Lake continued for half a year. In the first two months, the rumors were rampant, but as time passed and no one dared to fish in the lake, naturally, all talk of oddities faded away, and the matter gradually settled down.

Yet, though the commotion had died, whenever someone mentioned Ghost King Lake, the residents nearby would avoid the subject as if it were a taboo.

One afternoon, beneath a blazing sun, Zhou Qing, dressed in a red robe, walked along a forest path several miles from Ghost King Lake, one hand clasped behind his back and the other holding a stalk of sugarcane, which he bit into leisurely.

After strolling for a while, he spotted a tea stall by the roadside. Having just eaten sugarcane and feeling his hand sticky, he stepped into the stall and ordered two bowls of clear tea.

Inside the tea stall, there were five young men, all between their twenties and thirties. Their attire was identical—light blue long Taoist robes with large universe pouches hanging at their waists. It was obvious at a glance they were disciples of some cultivation sect.

Zhou Qing glanced briefly at them but paid little mind. When the stall owner brought over the tea, Zhou Qing used one bowl to rinse his hands and the other to take a sip.

The tea was slightly bitter at first, but after swallowing, a subtle sweetness lingered in the mouth. Though it was far from the finest tea, to enjoy such a cup in this place was more than sufficient.

As Zhou Qing was savoring his tea, he overheard the conversation of the young cultivators.

“Second Brother, it's no secret that there’s a flood dragon in Ghost King Lake. If the five of us can capture it and bring its treasures back to the sect, Master will surely look at us with new eyes,” one of them said.

“Fifth Brother is right. I remember reading that flood dragon hide is both supple and tough. If we make armor from it, it won’t just ward off blades and arrows—the baleful energy in the hide itself can drive away lesser fiends and evil spirits.

“And the dragon’s claw, harder than steel—perfect for crafting spiritual weapons. With its own baleful aura, such a weapon would far surpass ordinary ones.”

“I know all that,” replied the one addressed as Second Brother, his expression grave as he set his tea bowl on the table. “But with just the five of us, how can we possibly take down a flood dragon?”

“How will we know if we don’t try? Second Brother, the treasures are one thing, but aren’t you tempted by the dragon’s inner core?” another chimed in.

“That’s right, Second Brother. If we obtain the flood dragon’s core, we can have it refined into a Spirit Dragon Pill at the alchemy hall. Once you consume it, you’ll surely reach the peak of Fasting Level cultivation. When Master joins the Inner Sect, the steward’s position will naturally pass to you.”

The hesitation in the Second Brother’s face vanished at these words. Gritting his teeth, he declared, “No way can we let Senior Brother trample over us. The flood dragon in the lake—we five shall slay it together.”

The others voiced their support, each promising to do their utmost.

Their voices were neither loud nor soft, but in the quiet of the tea stall, only the distant owner and Zhou Qing could hear them. Clearly, they had no intention of hiding their plans; to them, Zhou Qing and the owner were mere commoners—what could they possibly do?

Indeed, for ordinary people, hearing such talk would be meaningless; it would have no impact.

But Zhou Qing gleaned more from their words. The dragon’s core could be refined into a Spirit Dragon Pill, which would let a cultivator reach the Fasting Level. That meant none of these young Taoists had higher cultivation than Zhou Qing, for he himself was already close to reaching Fasting Level—within a year, he’d likely break through. It was possible they weren’t as advanced as he was.

Though Zhou Qing didn’t know the exact method to refine a Spirit Dragon Pill, he had read about such creatures in his copy of the Wandering Miscellany. Both his grandmaster, Master Tianyi, and his own master, Wu Liaochan, had left notes about the process to make a pill from a flood dragon’s core to boost one’s cultivation.

The speakers were careless, but Zhou Qing was attentive. From their conversation, he could tell these were rookie disciples, raised in mountain temples, sheltered from real danger. Their world was simple—competing for favor, seeking petty merit, and otherwise living free from worry. The moment someone mentioned their Senior Brother, the Second Brother was immediately stung, as though his scales had been touched, and his fighting spirit flared.

As the saying goes: “One who has never suffered cannot become capable; one who has never been struck down remains naive. Heroes are forged in adversity; fortune breeds mediocrity.”

To Zhou Qing, these five were as naive as children, untested and overly green.

Originally, Zhou Qing had intended only to wash his hands, drink a bowl of tea, and move on. But upon hearing of their plan, he changed his mind. He had heard rumors of the flood dragon in Ghost King Lake during his journey, but with his modest cultivation, he hadn’t considered seeking it out—he’d only be throwing his life away.

Now, though, things were different. With these five greenhorns scheming to slay the dragon, Zhou Qing’s interest was piqued. With their combined strength and sect treasures, perhaps a good show was in store.

And if they failed to slay the dragon, Zhou Qing might even have a chance to seize the inner core for himself.

In short, he’d follow them, observe from the shadows, and act when opportunity arose. Even if he failed to get the core, watching the drama unfold would be entertaining enough.

With his plan set, Zhou Qing didn’t hurry to leave. Instead, he ordered another bowl of tea and savored it slowly.

After further discussion, the five cultivators rose and left. Once they were some distance away, Zhou Qing paid his bill, clasped his hands behind his back, and trailed after them from afar.

He followed them all the way to a small town less than two miles from Ghost King Lake. There, the five found lodging at an inn, and Zhou Qing did the same.

They didn’t rush to the lake; clearly, they needed to make preparations. Zhou Qing took a room next to theirs, keeping a close eye on their movements.

After a day of preparation, around noon the next day, the five pushed two wooden carts towards the lakeside, with Zhou Qing shadowing them from a distance.