Chapter 72: Longmen Stronghold

Chapter 72: Dragon Gate Stronghold

"What... is this... thing?"

The moment he laid eyes on those eyes, Li Huowang was struck by a peculiar sensation; his thoughts seemed to slow to a crawl, and everything around him took on a wondrous, surreal quality. In that instant, he felt as though he were not lying in the water, but suspended in midair.

The silt at the bottom of the lake began to churn, and the muddied water surged upward, rising along with the silt were those seven bizarre, ceaselessly writhing eyes.

As the silt completely engulfed Li Huowang's body, he beheld a hideous, rotting maw larger than a mountain peak, and from the very depths of that cavernous throat emerged a dense thicket of barbed, black tentacles.

"No... I can't... let this happen..." Li Huowang summoned every ounce of his strength to draw the long sword from his back.

Just as he rose to plunge the blade into his own neck, the tentacles instantly coiled around him, driving their razor-sharp barbs deep into his flesh and violently dragging him into that bloodthirsty maw.

Gazing at the churning mud in the distance, and the thrashing crowd struggling in the water.

Standing on the small sampan, Yuan Er cast a slightly anxious glance at the old man he was supporting beside him.

"Great-grandfather, let's head back. With the River Earl here, they're as good as dead."

The old man shot him a cold glare, abruptly yanking his hand away, "Back to the stronghold!"

Hearing the anger in the old man's voice, Yuan Er's heart skipped a beat in panic.

Yet there was still nothing he could do; he could only stuff two fingers into his mouth and blow a sharp whistle for retreat.

The sampans swiftly turned about, beginning to weave through the dense reed marshes.

The entire reed marsh was vast, forming nothing short of a natural labyrinth.

But the Yuan family was born and raised here, intimately familiar with every inch of it.

After winding their way around for a while, the small flotilla finally arrived before a small island woven entirely from reeds. This was their home.

The whole island, including the small stronghold upon it, was crafted from woven reeds.

A sight that would seem extraordinarily spectacular to outsiders had long grown tedious in Yuan Er's eyes; he had other matters to worry about now.

Watching his great-grandfather step off the boat without a word, leaning on his cane and striding toward the stronghold, Yuan Er gritted his teeth and hurried to follow.

The other Yuan family members, witnessing this, silently trailed behind, and the atmosphere throughout the water stronghold grew somewhat oppressive.

The stronghold might look small from the outside, but inside it was far from cramped, even boasting space to raise pigs and ducks.

Ultimately, Yuan Er followed his great-grandfather into a grand hall framed by colossal fish bones and woven from reeds.

Candles and incense burned within; at the very center of the hall hung a vivid ink painting of a carp leaping over the dragon gate, beneath which rested five pairs of memorial tablets—this was the ancestral shrine of the Yuan family.

"Kneel before the River Earl and our ancestors!"

His expression solemn, Yuan Er's knees buckled, and he immediately dropped to the ground, kowtowing heavily three times before the tablets.

Gone was the arrogant boat captain who had lorded it over the river; now he was merely a junior who had committed a grave error and awaited his punishment.

After pacing back and forth a few times, the old man suddenly raised his rattan cane and brought it down viciously upon Yuan Er's back and head.

Each strike landed with tremendous force, and before long, Yuan Er's head was bleeding profusely, his body covered in dark bruises.

Yet even so, Yuan Er, his teeth clenched tight, dared not stir a single muscle.

Only when the old man had beaten himself to exhaustion and stood panting heavily on his cane did Yuan Er shift his direction, kowtowing heavily toward the old man. "Great-grandfather, I was wrong."

"Tell me, then, what exactly were you wrong about?" the old man demanded, glaring fiercely at him.

"I was too reckless. I didn't thoroughly scout the marks before launching the strike, never expecting there to be such formidable foes among them. The dozens of brothers who died, including the two nephews and nieces sacrificed to the gods—the fault is entirely mine."

"Hmph! So you still know that!" A trace of the anger on the old man's face slightly subsided.

After a moment, Yuan Er's expression twisted in struggle before he spoke, his voice brimming with resentment: "But I matched the secret code with that Daoist priest earlier, and that brat didn't give the right response at all!"

With a sickening squelch, the tip of the cane thrust straight into Yuan Er's left eye, brutally gouging it out in an instant.

"Ahhh!!" Writhing in agony, Yuan Er clutched his blinded eye, rolling on the ground in sheer torment.

But after a few rolls, he disregarded his injuries, trembling as he forced himself back into a kneeling position, kowtowing heavily before the old man.

Looking at the younger generation before him, the old man sighed with a trace of worry.

"Second boy, don't think that just because you've snatched a few marks on your own, you can act all high and mighty, looking down on heaven and earth with such an insufferable swagger. Our trade may look like a business with no capital, but sustaining it for the long haul is no easy feat; your eyes must be sharp, and your hands must be swift!"

"I had intended to hand the leadership of this family over to you, but after messing up, you actually go blaming others. Such a mindset truly leaves me with no peace of mind."

Hearing this, Yuan Er's expression turned frantic; ignoring his pain, he hastily blurted out, "Great-grandfather! I was wrong, I truly know I was wrong! If I ever misjudge a mark again out of blindness, you can gouge out my other eye, and I won't utter a single word of complaint."

"You think one eyeball can make up for dozens of lives? You wish!"

As the old man, his face dark, gave a slight wave of his hand, two figures emerged from the onlookers outside the door, carrying trays laden with various bizarre, white fish bones.

"Those who break the rules must face punishment; it is the law of the world, and the Yuan family is no exception. If you can survive the 'Leaping the Dragon Gate,' this matter will be considered settled, and you will still lead the family. But if you cannot endure it, I will give you a grand burial."

Watching those grotesque bone spurs inching toward his skin, Yuan Er's body trembled involuntarily, yet the old man beside him quelled any fleeting thought of escape.

The twisted, curved bone spurs slowly sliced through his skin, cutting into the muscle, until they finally fused with his very bones.

Just as Yuan Er gritted his teeth, bracing himself to endure the ensuing torture.

A shout from outside the door saved him. "Great-grandfather! It's bad! Come look quickly! The lake water has turned red!"

When the crowd swarmed to the edge of the island, they were instantly terrified into standing there, not daring to utter a single word.

The waters of the entire reed marsh had been dyed a deep, dark red, and the air was thick with a foul, fishy stench.

The others, utterly at a loss, instinctively looked toward the backbone of the entire stronghold, their great-grandfather.

The old man's expression shifted rapidly a few times before he waved his hand. "Set up the altar and light the incense!"

Before long, the incense and offerings were prepared, and the crowd knelt there, continuously bowing toward the reddened waters.

Seeing that the lake showed no sign of its color fading, the old man resolutely turned around and walked toward a few women holding children.

The children had already been dressed in brand-new clothes, their hair tied into two ox-horn braids with red thread.

The old man solemnly picked up a red brush dipped in cinnabar and gently dabbed a dot on the foreheads of the two children.

The two children, clearly unaware of what was happening, both giggled happily.

The old man first patted their heads with his hand, then let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes as he could not bear to look. "Go."

Two sturdy young men from the side snatched the two children, barely three years old, from the wailing mothers, and carried them toward the lake.

Just as they reached the water's edge, raising the boy and girl high in their hands, they suddenly halted.

"Hmm?" The old man squinted, peering into the dark red water; it seemed something was about to emerge.

Under the gaze of all present, a thoroughly soaked Daoist priest stepped ashore, his head hanging low, with something protruding from his neck.

Upon closer inspection, the old man realized it was a long sword entangled with waterweeds.

(End of Chapter)