Chapter 43: The Secret Burial of the White Dragon

Zong Zheng gritted his teeth, thrusting both hands into the empty air to grab the two wild ghosts. Completely caught off guard by the sudden and lethal assault, the spirits had no time to react before being crushed into flickering phosphorescent flames.

Without waiting for the phantom lights to dissipate, Zong Zheng retracted his hands smoothly, condensing the two wild ghosts into a pair of pure, concentrated balls of Yin energy. He chuckled warmly as he handed them over to Little Sprout: "Though these wisps of Yin energy are a bit meager, they should still be enough to nourish this little girl."

A little girl?

I glanced back at Little Sprout and said with a cold face, "Get back in the car!"

Frightened by my tone, Little Sprout didn't dare to utter a word and obediently squeezed into the trunk.

According to the rules of the arcane arts, a ghost servant is not qualified to ride in the same cabin as their master and must remain in the trunk.

However, Little Sprout's actions served as a timely reminder.

I dragged Ye Huan out of the front passenger seat and threw him straight into the trunk as well: "Sprout, keep an eye on him. If anything goes wrong with him, I'm holding you responsible."

"Mr. Zong, let's continue our talk in the car!"

Zong Zheng took the front passenger seat and said, "Master San, truly impressive methods. I, Zong Zheng, have learned my lesson."

I smiled faintly. "The Watchdog of the Mountains has quite a reputation. Surely Mr. Zong hasn't exhausted all your tricks yet?"

Zong Zheng chuckled dryly, "The Watchdogs of the Mountains are not limited to my lineage alone."

"The five branches of the Watchdogs each possess their own unique skills. That Watchdog from Sandaohuzi was presumably sent on his final journey thanks to Master San's mercy, yes? The 'bone-deep' brand on your hand is still visible!"

I glanced at my own hand and asked, "Aren't you going to avenge him?"

"Avenge him for what?" Zong Zheng replied. "He and I weren't even from the same faction. Besides, there are only two or three of that branch left anyway. Look at you—your wound has faded almost to the point of invisibility."

"Once that last old dog dies, no one will be left to bother you. That leaves probably just four branches of the Watchdogs of the Mountains."

I deliberately probed, "How do I know you won't sell me out to the other Watchdogs?"

Zong Zheng laughed bitterly, "I'd love to find them, but I can't even locate them!"

"The cultivation technique of my lineage leans heavily toward the dark and toxic. As the saying goes: of all sins, the employer bears seventy percent, and the sorcerer thirty. Even when we perform acts that accumulate merit, practicing this art means we are doomed to live like eunuchs."

"That branch in Sandaohuzi belongs to the Blue-Backed Hounds. They were crippled long ago in a massive battle, and the few survivors are either terrible at teaching disciples or utterly disillusioned with the underworld, deciding to take their skills with them to the grave."

"My father said long ago that fifty years from now, the Blue-Backed Hound lineage wouldn't even need outside interference to die out completely. And look, hasn't sixty years already passed? That branch is practically extinct."

"The remaining three branches went into hiding long ago. Rumor has it they only recently selected a new Hound King, though heaven knows what they are actually up to."

"They want nothing to do with our branch, and I couldn't care less about tracking them down."

Hearing this, my heart sank halfway—it turned out this Zong Zheng had essentially been cast out by the Watchdogs of the Mountains!

Reluctant to give up, I asked, "Who was it that crippled the Blue-Backed Hounds?"

"No idea!" Zong Zheng answered. "Some say they drew the death lot while blocking the Ghost Gate and had to act as the vanguard."

"Others claim they started fighting among themselves."

"I'm not close with them, so I've never paid it any mind."

At this point, Zong Zheng suddenly turned the question back on me: "Master San seems unusually concerned about the Watchdogs of the Mountains, don't you think?"

"Just out of curiosity!" I replied casually, immediately changing the subject. "Beneath White Dragon Mouth, what does 'the golden toad raises its head' mean?"

Zong Zheng explained, "That is a feng shui formation for a secret burial."

"That hidden tomb is supposed to be a 'white dragon devouring a golden toad.' The core of that feng shui layout is not the white dragon, but the golden toad."

"The golden toad underneath is far better at absorbing the essence of the earth's vital energy. Without the suppression of the white dragon, it would naturally be an extremely rare feng shui treasure land."

"That white dragon, on the contrary, is a diseased dragon."

In feng shui, the supreme earth veins are none other than dragon veins.

However, dragon veins not only vary in scale, but are also classified into dead dragons, diseased dragons, and crippled dragons.

If an amateur feng shui master mistakes these flawed dragon veins for a genuine dragon's lair and buries someone there, the descendants of that family will not only fail to attain wealth and glory, but are likely to see their family ruined and destroyed.

A diseased dragon means the dragon vein still exists and remains undamaged, but its terrestrial energy has long since leaked away. It is akin to a person suffering from a severe illness that drains their fundamental vitality. Until that vitality is restored, no one must ever be buried there; otherwise, the descendants are bound to suffer from chronic illnesses and shortened lifespans.

Zong Zheng continued, "That secret tomb lies deep within White Dragon Cliff. The entrance will only open when the white dragon swallows the golden toad."

"Through repeated calculations, I've deduced that the Daoist priest must have set up a specific array inside the hidden tomb. Once the white dragon swallows the golden toad, that primordial energy of heaven and earth will channel through the white dragon's throat directly into his own body."

"In this way, he can forcibly usurp the spiritual energy of heaven and earth without incurring heavenly retribution, and he might very well attain the Dao."

"Ever since my grandfather's generation discovered this secret, we found a way to block the golden toad below, preventing the white dragon from swallowing it. By doing so, we also blocked the Daoist priest's path to immortality."

"Leveraging our convenience as Watchdogs of the Mountains, our Zong family settled right below White Dragon Cliff, quietly searching for a way to breach and plunder the secret tomb!"

I countered, "Weren't you afraid other Watchdogs would find out?"

Zong Zheng smiled, "The code of the Watchdogs dictates that no one can arbitrarily poach another's territory. By anchoring our family at the foot of the mountain, we essentially staked our claim. Anyone else wanting to muscle in would have to answer to us first."

As he spoke, Zong Zheng inadvertently displayed a trace of arrogant pride. It seemed he still held some trump cards in reserve and was merely putting on a weak front for my benefit.

I pretended not to notice. "You plotted and refined the Black Tiger Fiend simply to open the secret tomb?"

"Of course!" Zong Zheng nodded. "Since ancient times, it has always been a battle between the dragon and the tiger. As long as we release the Black Tiger Fiend at the exact moment the white dragon attempts to swallow the golden toad, it will make the white dragon hesitate and stay its hand. That will allow us to safely enter the hidden tomb and slay the demonic Daoist."

"The moment I succeed, I will instantly destroy the Black Tiger Fiend, and the white dragon will resume swallowing the golden toad. At that point, even if the secret tomb is completely empty, we can still harvest the spiritual energy of heaven and earth and elevate our cultivation to extraordinary heights!"

"Master San, just think: once we become masters of the Primordial Taiji, all the wealth and beauties in this world will be ours for the taking, wouldn't they?"

"Hmm," I grunted, offering no further reaction.

I knew very well that Zong Zheng was keeping a backup plan, and I had no intention of letting him live either. When two people are harboring treacherous motives toward one another, putting on an elaborate act becomes quite pointless.

I deliberately steered the conversation elsewhere. "If we leave the White Dragon Secret Tomb alone, can that Daoist inside actually achieve immortality?"