Chapter 80: Good! Good! Good!

“The Generous Pot can absorb wrathful souls from the Panlong Wasteland. Zhong Shengguang, who committed suicide after defeat, would’ve been one of them,” He Lingchuan recalled. “You probably don’t know this, as you came a bit later, but when I first entered the illusion, the Panlong City inside was peaceful, prosperous, and far nicer than even Heishui City. That was when Zhong Shengguang had just arrived to take up his post. That must’ve been his most cherished memory, so the illusion fully recreated Panlong City during its golden age.”

When reality was too bitter, the only refuge, whether it be for the living or the dead, was a dream of beauty that never was.

“Then Nian Songyu, along with Sun Fuping, climbed up the wall, fired the artillery, and set the city ablaze. Their main target? The Zhong Residence. That was the moment the dream shattered, as well as the moment that the black flood dragon awoke.” He Lingchuan shrugged. “I mean, who wouldn’t be pissed getting woken up like that?”

“The Generous Pot had been in Panlong City for over twenty years. It makes sense that Zhong Shengguang formed a deep bond with it. When he died, his soul was absorbed by the artifact and became its spirit,” He Chunhua said while applying ointment to his son’s face. That wound had torn flesh outward; only a special salve could stimulate rapid healing.

“If we can’t take the Generous Pot with us, then I’m afraid that the season of mad sand will still come year after year along the Hongya Route.” After a pause, He Chunhua asked, “By the way, I heard the god tried to possess you first. Why did it leave your body?”

“I don’t know,” He Lingchuan answered honestly, his face puzzled. “That white light hugged my face like a mask, and I blacked out. When I came to, it had already gone to Nian Songyu.”

“How long was that?” He Chunhua turned to the others.

“Three to five seconds, tops,” Situ Han recalled.

“Did you feel any dizziness or head pain?”

“Yes! Definitely.” He Lingchuan’s eyes lit up with recognition. “My temples are still throbbing. It’s honestly killing me. How’d you know?”

He Chunhua frowned. “Have the grand shaman check you again once we return. You might have suffered some damage to your soul.”

“Oh.” He Lingchuan raised a mental eyebrow.

Again? When did the grand shaman check me before?

But the conversation inevitably circled back to the Generous Pot.

“Is the divine artifact truly fused with Panlong City?”

“Maybe?” He Lingchuan said after thinking it through. “Otherwise, if it could turn the tide so easily, controlling enemy minds with the Three Corpses Worms and commanding the Gale Army, why wouldn’t Zhong Shengguang have used it to reclaim his homeland? It must have some kind of restriction.”

“Things of gods are never easy to wield,” He Chunhua nodded. “Pity we can’t use it to quell the rebellions. Oh, and that last thing the black dragon said about its mission finally being complete, what do you think it meant?”

Seeing four pairs of eager eyes staring back at him, He Chunhua smirked and clammed up.

Am I seriously asking these four for insight? I might as well go home and consult He Yue.

Clearly, He Chunhua was reluctant to give up on the Generous Pot. He Lingchuan had never seen his father this invested in anything, sighing, lamenting, practically gnashing his teeth with regret.

A strange impulse welled up in He Lingchuan’s chest, a desire to help his father fulfill that goal, no matter the cost.

Of course, that emotion likely came from his body’s original owner, not him.

Thankfully, He Chunhua understood that this expedition had reached its end. Just opening the passage to the illusion had burned through all their resources. The odds of finding another way to claim the Generous Pot were next to none.

And now, with the Gale Army’s heroic spirits roaming the ruined city, ostensibly guarding it, but in truth monitoring it, any attempts to claim the city by force would be met with their steadfast resistance.

Whether they liked it or not, they had to leave.

Just then, the pot of food was finally ready.

The rice cakes, softened in boiling water, had turned into a coarse porridge. It was not as smooth as proper white congee, but it was definitely hearty enough to fill bellies, especially when paired with flatbread and salted meat.

The group huddled close and slurped it down, steaming bowls in hand.

There they sat in the ruins of a legendary city, with rain pattering softly on the eaves, the Gale Army’s heroic spirits wandering just beyond the courtyard walls. For a moment, it all felt like a dream.

He Lingchuan even brought out some fine wine and passed it around for everyone to enjoy.

Once fed and tipsy, drowsiness inevitably followed.

After the harrowing series of events, exhaustion finally caught up to them. Zeng Feixiong called for his guards to keep watch, and the rest of the group lay down and instantly fell asleep.

* * *

Back in Heishui City, He Yue had turned in early but could not sleep. He tossed and turned until well past midnight before finally dozing off.

These past days had been the hardest the He Family had faced in years. By day, he juggled the burden of heavy administrative duties for the commandery. By night, he had to console his grieving mother. Neither task was light, and both were relentless.

Even when he managed to collapse into bed, his mind stayed wide awake, racing through every possible way he could shoulder the future. Their father’s apparent death had dealt a devastating blow to the family.

After days of this, the once-spritely young man was a wreck.

But just as the rooster crowed that morning, a sudden commotion stirred outside. Not long after, there came a frantic pounding on the door. “Second Young Master, wake up! The master and the eldest young master have returned!”

The usually composed old steward was so overwhelmed that his voice cracked with emotion.

He Yue sprang upright, dazed for a moment, then grabbed the long coat beside his bed and bolted outside.

The front courtyard was packed with joyful chatter and radiant faces. It was as if the whole household had stumbled upon a mountain of gold.

The suffocating gloom that had loomed over the He Mansion these past few days vanished in an instant.

And there, at the center of the crowd, slightly disheveled but unmistakable, stood none other than He Chunhua and He Lingchuan.

Without a shred of decorum, the always-composed second young master of the He Family cried out and threw his arms around his father and older brother.

He Chunhua gently patted his head. “There, there, you’ve worked hard these past days.”

He Lingchuan chuckled. “Come on now, wag your tail if you’re happy to see us back!”

He Yue rubbed his eyes, overjoyed yet still in disbelief. “But... the season of mad sand hasn’t ended. How did you get back? Did you not go through the desert?”

“It’s a long story!” He Lingchuan rubbed his face with both hands. “At least let us wash up first. I swear I’ve got at least a kilogram of sand caked on me.”

“I have urgent news too!” He Yue, knowing the stakes, gripped his father’s arm and spoke each word slowly and clearly, “News from the east finally arrived. The rebels at Woling Pass had already been crushed. The Minister of War, Dong Haoming, has launched a rebellion!”

That bombshell struck the He father and son like lightning.

He Chunhua suddenly threw his head back and let out a thunderous laugh, as if all his burdens had been swept away. “Good! Good! Good!”

Just then, Madame Ying arrived. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at her husband. “You’ve finally come home!”

* * *

By the time the sky began to brighten, He Lingchuan had finally hauled himself out of the bath barrel and stretched with a contented sigh. He felt like a new man.

He had soaked through two whole barrels of hot water, and the He Family had even paid extra for a scrubbing specialist to remove the hardened layers of sand and grime from his skin.

It was like being reborn.

The season of mad sand was far from over, but their expedition team had managed to exit the Panlong Desert safely thanks to the escort of the Gale Army’s heroic spirits. Wherever those heroic spirits passed, wrathful souls and Three Corpses Worms would scatter, and even the swirling sandstorms would weaken, clearing a path that they could pass through.