Chapter Thirty-Six: Old Fish

Jiang Pingchuan gazed at the surging waves and billowing waters of the Pushui River, where the number of sharp-horned scale fish gathering in the river grew ever larger. The fish repeated their leaps, rising and falling, generating a hazy aura in their comings and goings.

Sometimes the aura took on a circular form, rotating with a hollow, dark energy that faintly revealed the outline of stars. Sometimes it formed a matrix, Sanskrit chants swirling and echoing, and at the heart of the formation, a door opened and closed. At other times, it gathered into a triangle, its perimeter layered with flickering shadows, appearing to Jiang Pingchuan as a circle without, a square within.

He watched the shifting, unpredictable flow of energy and stepped into the Pushui River. The moment he touched the water, the surface roiled, ripples spread, and a crystalline lotus emerged from below. With each step, a new lotus bloomed, and Jiang Pingchuan walked to the center of the river, standing before the flow of energy.

"You have come, young friend," came a deep, humming voice from the aura, pausing and expanding in turn.

"Are you the sharp-horned scale fish?" Jiang Pingchuan stood before the aura, watching the mouths of hundreds, even thousands of fish open and close.

To him, though the voice seemed to issue from the aura, it felt as if it came from the multitude of fish behind it.

"Heh, that is correct. Long-lived and undying, I have become a spirit. It is fate that we meet, young friend. Are you here to peer into the future, or to look back upon the past?" The voice echoed across the river, lingering.

Jiang Pingchuan clasped his fists in respect and shook his head, turning to walk back to the riverbank.

"May I know your name, elder?"

Standing at the water's edge, Jiang Pingchuan watched as the hundreds of sharp-horned scale fish merged into a single, massive specimen. Its pale blue eyes shone with wisdom, its expression tinged with surprise as it regarded Jiang Pingchuan on the bank.

"Old Fish." Old Fish opened his mouth and spoke his name in a faint tone.

"Old Fish, it is an honor to meet you. I harbor no other intentions; I bid you farewell," Jiang Pingchuan said, then turned to leave.

This place was an illusionary formation. The reason he could not see Zhou Ning'er was because Old Fish had drawn him into an alternate dimensional space. The so-called Old Fish immediately asked what he wanted to see—clearly, there was something amiss.

"Young friend, do you not wish to see what has happened at Mount Mao? Or to learn where your parents are? You must know, once you leave, you will never have another chance."

Old Fish, seeing Jiang Pingchuan about to leave, hurried to speak. This time, his voice was hollow, penetrating the mist above the river and reverberating in Jiang Pingchuan’s mind.

Jiang Pingchuan halted. Old Fish had mentioned Mount Mao and his parents, implying that through him, Jiang Pingchuan could learn news of Mount Mao Dao, perhaps even find a route back to the Yuanwu Continent.

He turned to see a smiling face pressed close to his own, hair white but neatly combed, long brows hanging down to the cheeks, skin smoother than his own. The complexion was rosy, shining with watery light, and the pink robe was elegant. Had Jiang Pingchuan not known this was an ancient being, he might have mistaken Old Fish for a woman.

Old Fish sniffed at Jiang Pingchuan’s face, chuckling lewdly. Jiang Pingchuan instinctively stepped back two paces, keeping his distance.

"Old Fish, how did you learn of Mount Mao Dao? To my knowledge, this is not the Yuanwu Continent."

Noticing Old Fish’s displeasure at his deliberate distance, Jiang Pingchuan paid it no mind; after all, Old Fish was a venerable elder and surely would not take offense.

"I am versed in astronomy and geography, and know all things within the three realms," Old Fish declared, waving toward the river. A rainbow-hued coral chair emerged from the water, and Old Fish lounged upon it, his manner coquettish as he eyed Jiang Pingchuan, who shivered inwardly.

Old Fish’s hands were slender and pale, his fingernails iridescent in the sunlight. Jiang Pingchuan had never seen a man so androgynously adorned. Suppressing his doubts, Jiang Pingchuan stood firm and bowed.

"Old Fish, could you tell me what has become of Mount Mao Dao?"

He had not intended to ask about Mount Mao Dao—knowing would only bring trouble, and he had glimpsed some answers in the golden characters. Cultivators who came to Old Fish to view fragments of the river of time rarely met good ends; apart from one named Thousand Feather Crane, who vanished without a trace, all others disappeared mysteriously after their meetings.

Jiang Pingchuan suspected that the price for viewing the river of time was beyond his means, but hearing Old Fish mention Mount Mao Dao and his parents stirred him deeply. He wanted to see, whatever the cost, so long as it did not mean death.

"I cannot tell you, but you may see for yourself. Of course, breaking through the heavenly ban to view the river of time comes with a price."

Old Fish waved his hand, and a flash of light transformed into a pink blossom. He pinched the stem between two fingers, inhaled its scent, and smiled languidly, his long lashes fluttering with his watery blue eyes.

"What price must be paid? Please, Old Fish, be clear."

Jiang Pingchuan bowed his head slightly; as he spoke, he felt his fish-shaped jade pendant at his waist quiver gently. The tail flicked subtly toward Old Fish’s position, no longer a fixed ornament, but like a translucent little fish swaying its tail.

"The price is not great: be my servant for ten years. How about it?" Old Fish reclined on the chair, idly ruffling his skirt, his fair, shapely legs glimmering in the light.

Jiang Pingchuan watched Old Fish’s frivolous demeanor, his brow twitching; he smiled faintly and turned to leave.

"Stop! Did I—cough—did I say you could go? How rude! So, you don’t wish to see Mount Mao Dao, nor your parents whom you’ve never met? They are living quite well, tsk tsk, and your brother… sigh…"

Suddenly, Old Fish sat up and floated in front of Jiang Pingchuan, holding the pink blossom and pointing it at his neck. She leaned in and breathed in deeply at his throat, her face flushed with enjoyment.

Jiang Pingchuan felt an itch at his neck, inhaling a thick, feminine fragrance. He frowned, reaching for the violently trembling fish-shaped jade at his waist, but when his hand moved, he felt a moment of confusion—his hand landed on Old Fish’s smooth, fair fingers.

"Heh, this jade pendant is quite interesting. So, you wish to leave, and not to see?"

Old Fish held Jiang Pingchuan's jade pendant up to the light, examining it closely, muttering under her breath.

"Old Fish, though I wish to see, I have no desire to be enslaved. Please, return my jade pendant, and I shall not trouble you further," Jiang Pingchuan said, waving his hand before Old Fish, his tone impatient, no longer as respectful as before. He longed to see Old Fish’s true face, but the watery sheen on her skin blocked any attempt to discern her real nature.

"Jiang Pingchuan, whether you leave or not is up to me. I like this jade pendant—it is mine now. Go on, leave."

Old Fish glared at him and drifted toward the rainbow chair.

"Hmph..."

"Ah—Jiang Pingchuan, you, you… let go of me!"

Jiang Pingchuan displayed the power of six Dao crystals, gripping Old Fish’s shoulder tightly, but her next words left him utterly embarrassed.

Old Fish's voice changed, no longer deep but crisp—a woman's voice. Jiang Pingchuan released her at once; Old Fish collided with the coral chair in a flash of light.

Before him now stood a graceful, slender woman. Jiang Pingchuan knew, however, that though this was Old Fish’s true form, it was not her true spirit.