Dragon Gate Stockade

“What… is that… thing?”

The moment he saw those eyes, Li Huowang felt a strange sensation. His thoughts slowed, and everything around him became oddly surreal. In that instant, it felt less like he was lying in the water and more like he was suspended in midair.

The silt at the bottom of the lake began to churn. The murky water rose rapidly, and with it surfaced seven grotesque, writhing eyes.

When the silt completely enveloped Li Huowang’s body, he saw a mouth—hideous, rotting, and larger than a mountain peak. From deep within that cavernous throat stretched countless hooked black tentacles.

“No… can’t… let this happen…” With all his remaining strength, Li Huowang drew the longsword from his back.

The moment he stood and raised the blade toward his own neck, the tentacles lashed in. Their barbs sank deep into his flesh and wrenched him into that gaping maw.

Standing on the small sampan, Yuan Er watched the churning mud and the people struggling in the water. He turned nervously toward the old man he was supporting.

“Great-Grandfather, let’s go back. The River Lord has them. They’re done for.”

The old man shot him a cold look and yanked his arm free. “Back to the stockade!”

Hearing the anger in the old man’s voice, Yuan Er’s heart seized.

But there was still nothing he could do. He put two fingers to his lips and blew a retreating whistle.

The sampans turned quickly and began threading through the dense reeds.

The reed marsh was enormous, a natural labyrinth.

But the Yuan family had been born and raised here. They knew it intimately.

After winding through the maze for a while, the sampans arrived at a small island woven entirely from reeds. This was their home.

The entire island, along with the little stockade built upon it, was made of woven reeds.

It would have been a spectacular sight to an outsider, but Yuan Er had long grown tired of it. He had other things to worry about now.

He watched his great-grandfather disembark without a word, leaning on his staff and heading toward the stockade. Yuan Er gritted his teeth and quickly followed.

Seeing this, the other members of the Yuan family silently fell in step behind them. The atmosphere in the entire water stockade grew oppressive.

The stockade looked small from the outside, but inside it was surprisingly spacious. There was even room to raise pigs and ducks.

Eventually, Yuan Er followed his great-grandfather into a hall. Its frame was made from enormous fish bones, and its walls were woven reeds.

Inside, candles and incense burned. At the center of the hall hung a lifelike ink painting of a carp leaping over the Dragon Gate. Beneath it sat five pairs of spirit tablets. This was the Yuan ancestral hall.

“Kneel before the River Lord and the ancestors!”

His face grim, Yuan Er’s knees buckled. He knelt at once and knocked his head heavily against the ground three times.

The arrogant boat captain from earlier was gone. In his place was a junior who had committed a grave mistake and awaited punishment.

The old man paced back and forth for a few laps, then suddenly raised his rattan cane and brought it down hard across Yuan Er’s back and head.

Each blow landed with brutal force. Before long, Yuan Er’s head was split open and bleeding, his body covered in purple-black bruises.

But even then, Yuan Er clenched his teeth and didn’t dare move.

Only when the old man tired of beating him and stood there breathing heavily, leaning on his cane, did Yuan Er turn and knock his head again. “Great-Grandfather, I was wrong.”

“Oh? Tell me. Where were you wrong?” The old man glared.

“I was too reckless. I didn’t feel out the marks’ true strength before I cast the bait. I didn’t expect there was a hard target in the catch. The dozens of brothers I lost, and the nephew and niece I offered to the gods—it’s all my fault.”

“Hmph! So you do know!” The anger on the old man’s face receded just a little.

Yuan Er’s expression twisted for a moment, then he spoke, his voice full of unwillingness. “But I challenged that Daoist with the river talk, and the kid couldn’t answer it at all!”

Squelch.

The tip of the cane stabbed directly into Yuan Er’s left eye, bursting it on the spot.

“AHHHH!!” Yuan Er clutched his ruined eye, his face contorted in agony, rolling on the ground in pain.

But after a few rolls, he forced himself to ignore the wound. Trembling, he knelt back up and knocked his head heavily again.

Looking at the younger generation before him, the old man sighed with a hint of worry.

“Er’er, don’t you go thinking you’re too big for your britches just because you’ve hooked a few marks on your own. This line of work looks like easy money, but it isn’t easy to do it long-term. You need sharp eyes and quick hands!”

“I was planning to hand this family over to you. But if you make a mistake and still blame others… your character just isn’t up to it. I can’t rest easy.”

Hearing this, Yuan Er’s expression panicked. Forgetting the pain, he blurted out, “Great-Grandfather! I was wrong! I really know I was wrong! Next time I’m blind and misjudge a mark, you can poke out my other eye too. I won’t say a word.”

“One eye to pay for several dozen lives? You’d be getting off easy!”

The old man’s face darkened. He waved his hand lightly.

Two men who had been watching from outside stepped into the hall. In their hands, they carried trays filled with strange white fish bones.

“If you commit a crime, you face the punishment. That’s the rule under heaven, and our Yuan family is no exception. If you can survive the ‘Dragon Gate Leap,’ this matter is settled, and the family is still yours to lead. But if you can’t… I’ll give you a proper burial.”

Yuan Er’s body began to tremble as he watched the strange bone spikes approach his skin. But the old man standing beside him made even the thought of running feel impossible.

The curving, twisted bone spikes slowly split open his skin, cut through his muscles, and finally fused against his bones.

Just as Yuan Er clenched his teeth, bracing himself to endure the torture to come—

A shout from outside saved him. “Great-Grandfather! Something terrible! Come quick! The lake water has turned red!”

When the crowd swarmed to the island’s edge, they froze. No one dared to speak.

The entire reedy marsh had turned a dark, bloody red. The air was thick with a foul, fishy stench.

At a loss, everyone instinctively looked to the old man—the pillar of the entire stockade.

The old man’s expression shifted rapidly. Then he raised his hand. “Set up the altar. Light the incense.”

Soon, incense and offerings were prepared. The entire clan knelt by the water’s edge, kowtowing to the reddened lake.

When the water showed no sign of clearing, the old man made a swift decision. He turned and walked toward several women holding children.

The children had already been dressed in brand new clothes. Their hair was tied into little ox-horn buns with red string.

The old man solemnly picked up a vermillion brush and gently dabbed a red dot on each child’s forehead.

The two toddlers, clearly unaware of what was happening, giggled happily.

The old man patted their heads first. Then he sighed softly, shut his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look, and said, “Go.”

Two burly men snatched the crying toddlers from their wailing mothers and carried them toward the lake.

They had just reached the water’s edge and raised the children high when they suddenly stopped.

“Hm?” The old man squinted into the dark red water. Something seemed to be emerging.

Under the watchful eyes of the entire clan, a figure stumbled ashore. A Daoist, soaked through, head hanging low. Something was stuck through his neck.

When the old man looked closer, he realized it was a longsword wrapped in water weeds.