Chapter 84: Nine Stone Statues Standing in the Room

When Yu Shang saw that everyone had already entered through the great door, he too walked forward, intending to follow them inside. But just as he set one foot across the threshold, he was suddenly aware of a familiar presence behind him. He spun around swiftly, hoping to see who it was, but found nothing at all. Though he saw no one, he was certain that the person who gave off that familiar aura was nearby.

This place had always been heavily guarded, impossible to enter without knowing the secret method. Who could it be, emitting such a familiar energy? If they were capable of shadowing their group here without being noticed, why would they allow themselves to be discovered by Yu Shang? Was it intentional—and if so, for what purpose?

Yu Shang stood unmoving, turning these questions over in his mind. Surely, with the old headmaster’s profound cultivation, he must have sensed another intruder by now. Yet, he made no move to expose this person, instead letting them follow the group without interference. Unable to unravel this mystery, Yu Shang cast one last, reluctant glance behind him before stepping through the door and entering the treasury.

Upon crossing the threshold set into the divine tree, the group had expected to witness the wonders of its inner structure. Alas, they found themselves in a dimly lit chamber instead. It seemed the divine tree was but a ruse; the true treasury was not within it. Step through the door, and one was transported into this uncanny, secluded world.

The room itself was sparsely furnished. Aside from the nine stone statues standing at its center, nothing else adorned the space. But these statues were true marvels of craftsmanship—each was unique in shape, yet all radiated the same sacred, inviolable power. It seemed clear that whatever treasure the group sought was guarded by these nine stone sentinels.

A careful observer would quickly discern the secret of the statues: these were the legendary nine sons left behind by the ancient battle dragon! No wonder each exuded an imposing righteousness, deterring any with ill intent from daring to approach. Though they appeared to be nothing more than ordinary statues, everyone present felt as if they possessed souls of their own.

It was as if, should anyone attempt to steal the treasure under their protection, the nine statues would transform into flesh and blood to mete out punishment to the reckless thief. Yet these nine sons of the dragon, once divine beings now portrayed in human form, how did their likenesses come to be stored in the shadowy treasury of Yanlan Academy? Was it not said that none had seen them since ancient times? How could the academy know their true forms so well?

Even Yu Shang could not tear his gaze away from the statues’ overwhelming presence. He had heard tales of their might since childhood, and now, seeing them with his own eyes, he found them worthy of every legend. If he missed this chance to study their faces, who knew when or where such an opportunity would come again?

The nine statues were arranged in the pattern of a field, all facing the very center as if united in their guardianship of something precious. Should anyone unwittingly step among them, even if no trap was triggered, the force of their stony stares alone would be enough to strike terror. Their eyes seemed capable of slaying with but a glance.

In the upper left stood Qiuniu, one of the nine sons of the dragon. He squatted atop an ancient stone zither, his expression rapt with pleasure as though lost in celestial music. As the onlookers observed him, they almost fancied they could hear that beautiful melody filling their ears.

Qiuniu closely resembled the battle dragon, though his horns were but small nubs, his entire body tinged with a faint yellow glow—lacking the imposing power of his sire. Perhaps it was his love of music that made him so gentle and mild of temperament. But perhaps this was for the best; if all were fierce and brutal, what meaning would there be in the saying that the nine sons of the dragon were each distinct?

Beneath him stood Ya Zi, the second son, whose fierce eyes glowered at the group with palpable malice, as if he might leap upon them at any moment and tear them apart, devouring them piece by piece. Yet it was not only his murderous gaze that drew their attention, but the gleaming blade strapped to his back.

The blade shone with a chilling light, as though it could split the very heavens. Savage as it appeared, it radiated an aura of righteousness, and now the group understood why, in this dank and shadowed chamber, there was not a single trace of evil or demonic presence—the blade that punished the wicked had frightened them all away.

Ya Zi himself was a curious sight: he bore the head of a wolf and the body of a dragon, his whole form exuding a bloodthirsty ferocity. Though he possessed the noble blood of the dragon clan, he could not shake his lupine fierceness. Was it not said that Ya Zi never forgot a grudge? Though somewhat brutal, Yu Shang found this trait rather appealing.

In the lower left stood Chaofeng, the third son, perched atop a lotus pedestal, his head raised to the heavens as if awaiting something’s return. The longing in his eyes was unmistakable—clear, innocent, and free of harm, yet the power radiating from him made even the boldest a little wary.

Chaofeng, while shaped like a beast of prey, bore wings reminiscent of a bird, which lent a noble air to his otherwise unremarkable looks. Perhaps he shared some deep connection with the celestial phoenix, for how else could he possess such beautiful feathers, tempting all to reach out and feel their softness?

To his right stood Pulao, the fourth son, who alone seemed to have inherited the battle dragon’s divine form and presence. He coiled around an exquisitely carved ancient bell—a marvelous thing that required no striking; a single breath directed at it would unleash a deafening peal.

Though most had heard that Pulao most closely resembled the battle dragon, he was also said to be timid, terrified of a certain kind of fish from the sea. At the sight of this fish, Pulao would roar and howl, hoping to frighten it away with sound, yet dared not attack outright. Thus, the ancient bell’s thunderous tone was a perfect match for his own.

In the lower right stood Suanni, the fifth son, who, compared to his siblings’ mighty forms, exuded a sense of reverent devotion. He sat upright atop an incense burner, head bowed as if in prayer. Though his features were fierce, a gentle goodwill shone constantly from his brow. It was clear that, for all his intimidating appearance, he possessed a heart inclined toward virtue.

Above him stood Bixi, the sixth son, whose form resembled a millennia-old divine tortoise, except for the row of sharp teeth that adorned his mouth. What puzzled the group most was the massive stone tablet borne on his back—smooth as a mirror, and utterly devoid of inscriptions.

Clearly, this blank stele held some deeper meaning, though none present had the wisdom to divine it. Perhaps, after a lifetime spent savoring all the world’s joys and sorrows, when they returned here once more, the stone might reveal new wonders.

In the upper right stood Bi’an, the seventh son, who looked much like a mighty tiger of the forest, save for the pair of dragon horns crowning his head. Though he stood motionless, an aura of righteousness radiated from him, stern and unyielding.

Perhaps such divine beings were born with this air of solemn majesty. Even sitting expressionless and unmoving, they inspired dread in petty villains, sending them fleeing in terror. This was the unique authority that set him apart from all other creatures—a kingly power that none but a true sovereign’s heir could inherit.

To his left stood Fuxi, the eighth son, with the terrifying head of a lion and the noble body of a battle dragon. Unlike Bixi, who bore his tablet on his back, Fuxi’s stele stood upright before him, supported by his two forepaws—no need to burden his back.

Yet Fuxi and Bixi shared the same feature: the tablets they bore were both unmarked, polished to a mirror’s sheen. This left the group wondering what these two steles were meant to convey. Why did they not simply state their meaning, but instead shroud themselves in mystery, inviting endless speculation?

At the very center stood Chiwen, the ninth son, whose lithe, fish-like body swayed with grace beneath the majestic head of a battle dragon. Under him was a lifelike pool of water, carved from stone, its surface rippling as if truly in motion. Chiwen’s tail brushed lightly across the water, sending out delicate rings—an enchanting sight.

There was one more commonality among the nine statues: each held a stone pearl in its mouth. Though not particularly eye-catching at first glance, the spirit energy within each pearl was formidable indeed, suggesting their importance was not to be underestimated.

“To think they chose the nine sons of the dragon as guardians of this treasury—how grand and wise!” Yu Shang exclaimed in awe as he gazed at the majestic statues. “Though these are not the true forms of the nine, even these likenesses are enough to keep all evil and heresy at bay.”

The nine sons of the dragon were not beings to show themselves lightly, yet here today, their forms were revealed—was this not cause for excitement? Were they ordinary dragonkin, their presence would be unremarkable, but these were the offspring of the legendary ancient battle dragon!

The name alone was awe-inspiring, to say nothing of the exploits that had made it famous. Though the battle dragon had long since taken human form and departed for another world, its glory lived on in this one. Even Yu Shang, proud as he was, could not help but revere such a figure—what a legendary life it must have been.

“That’s nothing but the nine sons of the ancient battle dragon,” scoffed Xiao Yin, noticing Yu Shang’s respectful gaze. “No need to make such a fuss! Even if that battle dragon himself were here, it’d be nothing to brag about—my own family is far more impressive than all this!”

Though Xiao Yin’s words brimmed with arrogance, he had never lied to Yu Shang. If what he said was true, his origins were indeed extraordinary. Yu Shang had long sensed that Xiao Yin was no ordinary creature; despite keeping his secrets well, the occasional hint revealed that his family, too, was one to command wind and storm.

“You’re always boasting of your mighty family—no one can rival you, no one dares cross you. Why not tell us your family’s name, then? Which world do you hail from? If you won’t say a word, don’t blame us for thinking you’re just full of hot air!” Yin Boxuan teased, grinning mischievously as he goaded the little snake, hoping to provoke a confession.

“Hmph! You little rascal, you won’t get anything out of me!” Xiao Yin retorted, suddenly turning pensive. “There are things that must not be spoken of before their time. To do so would not only bring disaster upon myself, but might also bring misfortune upon those around me.”

Clearly, the burdens Xiao Yin bore were no less than those of anyone else present.