Chapter 78: Establishing the Altar

On the cliffs of Sanyu Island, at the center of the ruined and crumbling Warden’s Residence atop the precipice, there stood a high platform roughly thirty feet tall, hastily constructed from discarded timber and scattered stones. Around the platform fluttered banners bearing the emblems of the Twenty-Eight Mansions.

Atop the platform, a red table and a black paper brazier had been set up. Shen Zhongzhu stood behind the red table, before the black brazier, which was filled with ashes—evidence that something had already been burned within. Shen Zhongzhu had removed his gold-threaded bamboo-patterned gloves; his clean hands now held three sticks of incense.

His gaze was lowered, fixed on the censer atop the table, where the incense smoke curled thickly, undisturbed even by the pouring rain. On either side of the table stood two candlesticks, their flames flickering in the wind but never extinguished.

In the very center of the incense burner lay a golden medallion, upon which was inscribed an ancient, intricate line of text:

Celestial Lord of Universal Thunder, Supreme Sovereign of the Nine Heavens.

“You’ve set up your altar and made your offerings; the talisman envoy you shaped and burned, the written spells you penned have also been sent up in smoke—three times, even. Why, then, does this endless wind and rain show no sign of stopping?”

Lin Lan raised his head and called out, his clear voice cutting through the torrential downpour to reach Shen Zhongzhu’s ears.

He had somehow procured a white robe, hands tucked into his sleeves, his jet-black hair streaked with white, the lines on his youthful face deepening with each passing day.

Shen Zhongzhu stood upon the platform above, while Lin Lan remained below, stationed before five large water jars at the base.

Each of these five jars was filled with clear water, on whose surfaces floated willow branches, each branch supporting an iron plaque inscribed with a line of text:

Jade Purity Palace of Divine Soaring.

“This altar was thrown together in haste—crude at best. I’m still missing the names of the Five Savage Thunder Envoys. Without them, I can’t be sure my letters of petition will even reach their destination,” Shen Zhongzhu said, lifting his head slightly to peer up at the unending rain. The deluge had drowned nearly all of Sanyu Island, leaving only this cliff as a semblance of dry land.

Yet despite the roar of rain and howling wind, the voices of these two men passed between them unimpeded, each possessing the means to make themselves heard.

“To have found these five water jars, set up this platform, and fetched the censer and candlesticks from the Shrine of the Prison God for you—that’s no small feat,” Lin Lan said, withdrawing his left hand from his sleeve. With a flick of his finger, a thin line of blood lashed out, striking down a grotesque water demon that had crept up the cliff.

“Deputy Warden Lin, is there no way to stop the rain?” Old He, the coroner, still clad in his patched but clean gray robe, a bundle on his back, a short knife in his right hand and an umbrella in his left, stood guard by the five water jars and quietly addressed him.

“You’ll have to ask Deputy Warden Shen up there about that,” Lin Lan replied, glancing at the old man—He Xunan, if memory served—a coroner with an affinity for studying books of the occult.

The red table, paper brazier, and the banners of the Twenty-Eight Mansions atop the platform had all been salvaged from He Xunan’s quarters.

The unrelenting rain had already submerged two-thirds of Sanyu Island, forcing everyone to gather at its highest point—the summit of the cliffs.

There, survivors from the Bi Zhen Prison—both guards and inmates—mingled with unruly cultivators who had somehow smuggled themselves in from the Twelve Provinces.

By rights, such a gathering should have ended in bloodshed. Yet in the face of this catastrophe, all thoughts were bent solely on survival, and banding together became the only sensible choice.

He Xunan looked up at Deputy Warden Shen standing atop the platform. The rain’s mist made it near impossible to make out his features, let alone address him directly.

“Do you priests really have any power? Do you truly believe that burning a few talismans and waving some paper can make these four-clawed red dragons stop conjuring storms?” A gaunt man suddenly emerged from the half-collapsed hall of the Warden’s Residence, directing his question to Lin Lan.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” Lin Lan replied, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the man.

He recognized him as one of the two cultivators who had been held in the Biluo dungeon.

“Elder Gou says you’d best hand over the Sea-Repelling Edict—the one that drives away sea monsters and water demons—instead of wasting your time here,” You Zhong said, glancing back at the ruined hall before turning to Lin Lan, his voice grave.

Ordinarily, You Zhong would have kept to the sidelines, waiting for a shift in the situation. But with most of Sanyu Island submerged and even the small boat he’d found swiftly torn apart by sea demons, he had no choice but to return to Bi Zhen Prison.

Forced by the rising tide of monsters and the ever-encroaching sea, he had sought out the other cultivators who had joined in the Heavenly Rankings task at Lingyun Tower. Though most lacked weapons or treasures, they were all of higher rank than he, so he was reduced to running their errands.

“You mean the Sea-Repelling Edict of the Sangcang Sea Vessel? That document was penned by the ancient Emperor of Qin himself and ratified by the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea. Only thus was the Sangcang Sea Vessel able to travel untroubled by storm or monster. Or do you truly believe it is some manner of arcane spell?” Lin Lan’s eyes narrowed further, his smile tinged with mockery.

You Zhong was left speechless, intimidated by the gentle smile of the young man in white before him—a man who had carved his way through a horde of corpses and torn the head from a formidable zombie with his bare hands. He cursed inwardly, regretting ever taking the task from the Heavenly Rankings of Lingyun Tower. The promised reward had been too tempting—how could he have known it would be mired in such peril, far more than merely burning the storeroom of the Warden’s Residence?

He turned and slunk back into the half-ruined hall.

Lin Lan watched You Zhong’s retreating figure, then lowered his gaze to his own left hand. Blood streamed from the tips of all five fingers, the lines of his palm fading, the back of his hand deathly pale.

“The Wind and Cloud Divisions have arrived,” Shen Zhongzhu’s voice drifted down from the platform.

Lin Lan tucked his wounded hand back into his sleeve and looked up at the churning black clouds above. Suddenly, streaks of white cloud appeared amid the darkness, and the howling wind seemed at last to tire.

“There are dragons entering the sea,” Shen Zhongzhu announced.

From the dark clouds, two scarlet dragons flashed down like lightning into the Eastern Sea. Then, a third dragon appeared—immense and majestic, with five claws—plunging after the others.

The rain lessened; the wind began to abate.

“Well done,” Lin Lan murmured, relief flickering in his heart as his voice reached Shen Zhongzhu’s ears.

Yet there was no such relief in Shen Zhongzhu’s phoenix eyes. He looked down at the three sticks of incense between his fingers. For no apparent reason, two of them had abruptly gone out.

This was no good omen.