Chapter 119: Returning to the Sea

As soon as he stepped through the temple gates, Lu Chenyuan felt the world dim, as if the light had been suddenly extinguished. Even the salty, fishy breeze blowing from the East Sea turned into a biting, bone-chilling cold the moment it crossed the threshold.

A tremor passed through his heart, and the wooden doll he carried—which had remained dormant until now—gave another imperceptible twitch. This was the scent of the Turbid Flow, and it was thick and suffocating.

Looking out into the courtyard, he saw a dense throng of people—the followers of the Dragon King, jostling shoulder to shoulder to offer incense. Yet, a closer inspection made his skin crawl. Among the crowd were many with distended bellies, far larger than those of women in their ninth month of pregnancy. Their expressions were not of joy, but a bizarre mixture of agony and numbness. This affliction spared no one, affecting both delicate women and brawny, stalwart men alike; the sight was truly grotesque.

As he stood there in shock and suspicion, a chorus of women’s voices began to chant from the depths of the temple. The singing was perfectly synchronized, sounding solemn at first, but upon deeper reflection, the melody carried an indescribable air of wickedness—like a dirge rising from the Nine Netherworlds, burrowing straight into the darkest corners of the human heart.

"The mysterious sound of the East Sea summons the old guard, casting off the mortal shell to return to the Water Palace. Ten thousand scales of one origin become my own body, from this day forth, the Pure Land is free of all suffering. A thousand-year dream, the bloodline runs dry; today we hear the Way and return to the Primordial. Feed the Divine Dragon with our bodies to enter the Underworld, let the three souls and seven spirits ascend to the Heavenly Capital..."

Hearing these verses, many of the pregnant devotees in the courtyard began to show signs of fanatical fervor. Ignoring those around them, they prostrated themselves, performing the full rite of three kneelings and nine kowtows. Some of the most devout had been kowtowing every step of the way since they reached the mountain gate, their foreheads already bloodied and raw, yet they refused to stop.

Moving among them were figures clad in black straw rain capes and conical bamboo hats. Their faces remained hidden, and they paid no heed to the madness unfolding in the courtyard. Occasionally, a devotee with a swollen belly would collapse, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Two of the cloaked figures would immediately step forward, hoisting the victim up and carrying them not into the main hall, but into an ordinary-looking side chamber. Before long, muffled, piercing shrieks would erupt from that room—cries so wretched they made one’s hair stand on end. Yet, as soon as the screaming began, it was swallowed by the ever-rising, hypnotic chant of the women, until the cries vanished into nothingness.

The chanting, the kowtowing, and the agonizing wails wove together within the incense-filled temple to create a truly surreal and nightmarish scene. Cheng Xiaoshan felt his hair stand on end, a chill creeping down his spine. He leaned toward Lu Chenyuan, lowering his voice until it trembled.

"Shopkeeper Lu... this place is dangerously evil. In my opinion, we should wait until the cultivators from the Demon Suppression Division arrive before we take any action."

Before he could finish, a resonant, aged voice echoed in everyone's ears. A man with a wizened, sun-spotted face and a black straw cape emerged slowly from the main hall. He swept his gaze across the crowd, as if he had seen through Cheng Xiaoshan's intent to retreat, and spoke in a clear, booming voice:

"This is the Return to the Sea, a joyous occasion. In ancient times, we were all of the Dragon King’s bloodline. Having endured the tribulations of the mortal world, we have finally returned to our ancestors; this is the attainment of the true fruit. This human belly containing the fish is both a heaven-sent opportunity and the final trial before ascension. Those who pass this test shall be the true children of our East Sea."

Though his voice was not loud, it carried clearly to the ears of everyone present. It was evident that this old man was a cultivator of high standing. The crowd was invigorated by his words. The theory of "human-fish symbiosis and the return to the Primordial" had been circulating wildly throughout Zhenhai River, though most remained skeptical. Now, hearing it confirmed by such a venerable elder of the Dragon King Temple, their last remnants of doubt vanished, replaced by an boundless, frantic obsession.

Those with distended bellies wore expressions of triumph, unconsciously stroking their round stomachs as if they truly held the key to the Pure Land within. Those around them cast looks of envy, lamenting only why such a grand opportunity had not fallen to them.

Amidst this noise and fervor, a timid child’s voice suddenly rang out. It was the seven-year-old boy Lu Chenyuan had noticed at the mountain gate. Tugging on his father’s sleeve, he whispered, "Father, I don’t like the feeling here. I don’t want to see the Dragon King anymore. Let’s go back."

Though he spoke softly, the words landed like a thunderclap in the noisy courtyard. Instantly, every devotee froze. Dozens of faces—some fanatical, some envious, some numb—turned in unison, their gazes fixed upon the outspoken child. The entire temple fell into a deathly silence, save for the ghostly, rhythmic chanting echoing from the depths.

The child’s father, terrified by the sudden attention, hurriedly clamped a hand over his son’s mouth, trembling as he hissed, "What nonsense are you spouting, child! We’re already here; we must pay our respects to the Dragon King before we leave."

As soon as he spoke, the crowd turned back as if nothing had happened, returning to their prayers and their business, and the courtyard erupted into its former cacophony. The child, paralyzed with fear, dared not say another word.

Lu Chenyuan observed the entire scene, thinking to himself: *In that instant, those who believed most deeply in the Dragon King were the most susceptible to the pull of that unseen power. Aside from our group, there were others who looked on with caution—they appear to be outsiders from beyond Zhenhai River.*

Beside him, Han Lin already had his hand on the hilt of his blade, ready for battle. Jiang Yingxue, the disciple from the Hundred Refinements Sect, wore a cold expression, her right hand gripping her sword hilt. Even Cheng Xiaoshan realized that it was easy to enter but difficult to leave, and though he wanted to flee even more desperately, he dared not utter a sound.

Lu Chenyuan turned to Shangguan Chuci and asked in a low voice, "Young Master Chu, have you noticed anything?"

He knew she possessed a mystical fire capable of piercing through illusions. Since entering the temple, she had been unusually silent, and he suspected she might have seen things he could not.

Shangguan Chuci looked at the fanatical faces surrounding them and offered a bitter smile, shaking her head. "Brother Lu, it is better left unsaid. Since we are here, we must remain calm and investigate. If anything happens, Uncle Shen is here as well."

Lu Chenyuan nodded slightly. Even without counting himself, their group included at least three cultivators in the Fire-Holding Realm. Shangguan Chuci was protected by her mystical fire, and he knew from her earlier disclosures that Han Lin was a formidable expert of the Divine Illumination Realm, with Shen Guizhou of the Watching Waves Realm providing support from the shadows. Even if this Dragon King Temple were a den of wolves and tigers, they would not be easily trapped.

As he pondered this, his peripheral vision caught a flash of light from the depths of the temple. It was a pale flame, flickering briefly in the dim hall before vanishing. Through that momentary glow, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure—a petite frame holding a glazed palace lantern, walking deeper into the temple. It was none other than Lin Jianyuan, the young envoy from the Demon Suppression Division.

Lu Chenyuan’s eyes narrowed. *So, Lady Lin has arrived. But... didn't she say she was going to the Demon Suppression Division to gather reinforcements? Why is she here alone, walking into danger?*