Chapter Twenty-Three: The Mountain Dragon’s Lair

“How about it? As the last disciple of Mount Mao’s sect, don’t tell me you can’t even spot a dragon’s lair?” The tycoon’s words dripped with ridicule, but there was also a hint of provocation.

Yet Zhang Zhiheng paid him no mind. He simply extended a finger. “Seventy percent. That’s my share of this tomb’s riches. The extra twenty percent is my fee for finding the dragon’s lair for you.”

“Seventy percent!” The tycoon nearly popped his eyes out of his head. “I’ve never met anyone more ruthless than you. You’ve got some nerve!”

But Zhang Zhiheng only smiled faintly. “Dealing with people as black-hearted as you—how could I survive without courage?”

“And do you realize the risk I take to find a dragon’s lair for you? Good burial sites are reserved for those with accumulated virtue, and a dragon’s lair can only be used by those whose family has saved up blessings over generations. Someone like you, so full of malice, surely has little ancestral virtue left. Forcing a dragon’s lair for you is tantamount to defying fate—if heaven takes offense, at best I’ll lose my sight, at worst, lightning and fire will strike me down. So that extra share is only fair compensation.”

Hearing this reasoning, the tycoon finally understood why previous geomancers would rather die than reveal the dragon’s lair to him. It was clear now—they feared invoking heaven’s wrath and shortening their descendants’ lives.

With this thought, the tycoon’s irritation faded. Instead, he said, uncharacteristically, “Since the master is willing to risk his life for me, wealth means little. If you can truly find the dragon’s lair, and my father can be buried there, securing fortune for my descendants, then I’ll pay the extra share.”

Zhang Zhiheng nodded, wasting no more words. During his earlier survey of the terrain, his skills had already pinpointed the location of the dragon’s lair.

He gave his compass a slight nudge; instantly, the shapes of the mountains and forests before him transformed into a giant five-element diagram in his mind’s eye. He calculated with his fingers, and the answer soon came to him.

Turning to the tycoon, he said, “Follow me. I’ll hold a handkerchief in my hand. Wherever I drop it, that’s where you bury your father. This is the mountain dragon’s lair. I cannot point it out directly, or the local spirits may take offense, and punishment could follow.”

“Understood, understood! Master, you’re a man of honor!” The tycoon gave him a thumbs up.

Zhang Zhiheng’s tone shifted. “There’s something else. Such a lair is surely guarded by the land’s spirits. If you bury your father here without more, he may suffer their lash.”

“What should I do, then? Is there a way to spare my father from torment? I’m not a good man, but I won’t have my father suffer unrest after death, beaten by land spirits day and night.” The tycoon’s face now betrayed genuine concern, showing a streak of filial piety.

“That’s easily done, if you dare,” Zhang Zhiheng replied, fixing his gaze on the man.

The tycoon paused, then answered, “Speak freely, Master!”

Zhang Zhiheng said, “After your father is buried, tonight you must sit atop his grave—yourself, no substitutes. Stay the whole night, no matter what you see. Don’t panic. This is called ‘claiming the land as king.’ If you endure until dawn, the land will be yours, and even the land spirits will be powerless to stop you. The only question is, can you last the night?”

The tycoon burst out laughing. “I’ve seen much in my time—killed, stolen, met gods and ghosts. Sleeping in a graveyard is nothing. Please, Master, show me the spot!”

Without further word, Zhang Zhiheng picked up a handkerchief and headed for the next hill, followed closely by the tycoon and his men.

After a while, Zhang Zhiheng suddenly sneezed. He used the handkerchief to wipe his nose, then casually tossed it onto a patch of ground and walked on in silence.

The tycoon wanted to call out—wasn’t the handkerchief supposed to mark the spot, not wipe a sneeze and be discarded? But no matter how he shouted, Zhang Zhiheng kept walking, ignoring them all.

Suddenly the tycoon slapped his forehead. “That’s the spot! That’s where Master Zhang marked the lair. Quick, dig, and bury my father’s coffin there!”

Zhang Zhiheng, hearing the sounds of digging behind him, smiled with satisfaction but kept walking down the mountain, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, as if the discovery of the dragon’s lair was a mere accident.

Night fell.

Following Zhang Zhiheng’s instructions, the tycoon slept atop his father’s freshly dug grave. He brought a blanket and scoffed to himself—he had killed, robbed, seen ghosts and gods. What could a little grave do to scare him?

As night deepened, he drifted into sleep. Suddenly, he felt a chill across his face. Reaching up, he found a sticky, still-warm liquid.

“What is this?” he wondered. “It’s not water, and it’s not oil…”

Drowsily, he opened his eyes—and what he saw made him nearly lose control of his bowels. Right in front of him was a huge tiger, eyes red and striped, glaring murderously, baring its fangs as if ready to devour him whole the next instant.

He wanted to scream for help, but remembered Zhang Zhiheng’s warning: to claim this land, he had to face it alone.

Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut and muttered, “It’s all illusion, nothing can harm me, it’s all illusion…”

Suddenly, a piercing cry split the air. A brilliantly colored bird swooped down from the sky, its peacock-like tail dazzlingly vivid and its spread wings more magnificent than any bird on earth.

The bird dove straight for him. Hearing the rush of air, the tycoon glanced back just in time to duck the sharp beak that grazed his head.

Sweating coldly, he lay pressed to the ground. Had he not dodged, his head would have been pierced through.

Yet even with a tiger before him and a great bird above, the greedy tycoon refused to yield the land. He watched the bird circling overhead and the tiger crouching before him, swallowing hard.

Then, beneath him, the earth began to shift—something was emerging. He looked down to see a massive turtle, climbing up from the soil, its jaws agape as if to swallow him whole.

Panic finally overtook him and he cried out helplessly, “Master Zhang! Help me!”