Volume One

Chapter 001: The Pond Holds 3,600 Fish

Eastern Sheng Dynasty.

Huai'an, Feng City.

The Zhuang estate, by the pond.

A young man in white sat in a wheelchair, gazing at the pond before him.

The pond was teeming with countless carp, their scales golden-red, resembling auspicious clouds.

"Ancient texts say, when the pond holds 3,600 fish, a flood dragon may emerge."

The young man in white sighed softly, patting his thigh, but felt nothing.

His face was pale, his breath weak, the look of someone chronically ill.

Because he stayed in the residence most of the time and rarely went out, he was untouched by wind or sun. Coupled with his frail health and poor circulation, his skin appeared as white as snow.

His name was Brian Zane, twenty-six years old.

Six years ago, he started from scratch. Now, his business empire spanned the Eastern Sheng Dynasty, making him the richest man in all sixteen prefectures of Huai'an.

"Young master."

A young girl, about fifteen or sixteen, with delicate features, spoke softly: "The medicinal bath is ready."

Brian Zane smiled faintly and replied, "Good." He then looked toward the nearby rockery and said, "Henry Clark, push me back to my room."

From behind the rockery, two figures emerged.

The two looked somewhat alike, but their temperaments were entirely different.

One was tall and burly, with a tiger's back and a bear's waist. His face was resolute, his skin slightly dark, his expression wooden. His name was Edward Grant.

The other was of average build, neither tall nor thin, with handsome features and skin as fair as jade, but a cold expression. His name was Henry Clark.

Henry Clark said nothing, stepped forward, and began to push the wheelchair.

Edward Grant followed behind, his face as calm as still water, like a mountain.

The young maid walked alongside, moving slowly.

...

Inside the room.

Steam billowed.

There was a wooden bath barrel in the room, white steam rising from within, with many medicinal herbs faintly visible, floating and sinking.

"Alright, you may all leave."

Both Edward Grant and Henry Clark simply acknowledged and withdrew.

The young maid blushed slightly as if remembering something, but also left, her heart complicated. As the young master's personal maid, it was her duty to assist him with bathing and changing.

However, even though the young master had trouble walking, he never needed anyone's help during his medicinal baths. She vaguely felt that he simply didn't want others to think he was incapable of taking care of himself—pride and self-respect, perhaps.

Her thoughts were tangled, but she calmed herself, bowed to Edward Grant and Henry Clark, and then left.

Edward Grant and Henry Clark both wore indifferent expressions, their eyes devoid of light.

They stood on either side of the door, guarding it like two deities.

But inside the room, the scene was quite different.

Brian Zane did not undress, nor did he enter the bath.

He lowered his head slightly and reached into his robe.

He took something out from his chest.

It was pale white, almost colorless, about as thick as a finger and no longer than a foot, shaped like a small snake, wriggling slightly with surprising agility.

"Six years now..."

Brian Zane exhaled and placed the cloud serpent into the bath.

In the bath filled with medicinal herbs, the little cloud serpent swam about freely.

This precious medicinal bath, costing a hundred taels of silver—enough to buy several maids—was not used for the young master himself, but for a little snake.

Watching the snake swim, his expression grew dazed. He murmured, "Six years, from a single thread to a foot in length... In my lifetime, before my body decays, can I truly forge this divine dragon form?"

He sighed in dismay, deep exhaustion in his eyes.

When he was young, he had the fortune to meet a master cultivator and went to Jusheng Mountain, becoming the thirteenth disciple of the Daoist master Samuel White.

On the mountain, relying on basic cultivation formulas, he spent nearly ten years nurturing his qi, finally storing a wisp of true energy and touching the threshold of cultivation.

But after nurturing that wisp of true energy, when he began to practice the true techniques of Jusheng Mountain, disaster struck in the forbidden grounds. His true essence was thrown into chaos, his Dao seal shattered, his dantian ruptured, and his hopes of advancing further on the path of immortality were dashed.

"To cultivate and attain the Dao, to live long in the world—ultimately, it was all a dream."

Brian Zane sighed, his mind drifting back to those days, filled with emotion. He thought, "Immortal and mortal—two separate worlds, after all."

After that day, he was utterly dejected, losing all will to cultivate, as if the sky had collapsed.

On Jusheng Mountain, the tides of yin and yang alternated, and every thirty years a cold wave would come, forcing the mountain to close its gates.

At that time, his dantian was damaged. Though a trace of true energy remained, he was still a mortal in body, unable to progress in cultivation and unable to withstand the mountain's cold wave. He had no choice but to descend the mountain and return to the mortal world.

His senior brother, pitying his sorrow, personally escorted him down the mountain. After slaying demons and monsters, they found a wealthy but heartless landowner. Using Daoist arts to threaten him, they planted a curse, forcing the man to hand over all his wealth.

"Though I cannot attain immortality, I can at least enjoy a lifetime of riches."

These were the words his senior brother left him before parting.