Chapter Eight: The Nine Cauldrons of King Yu

Wu Ming leaped downward, and at once a surge of warm air rose from the magma beneath the cliff, lifting him gently as if a soft hand were supporting him. His body steadied, no longer sinking, but instead floated upward, swaying like a kite in the sky, drifting slowly toward the head of the golden statue where the old Taoist stood.

After some time, Wu Ming managed to maintain his balance, and seeing that he was about to drift over the head of the golden figure where the old Taoist stood, he quickly pressed his body downward, landing steadily beside Master Qingfeng.

"Young friend, isn't this rather fun?" Master Qingfeng caught Wu Ming, who was about to slide forward, and helped him stand firm.

"It truly feels wonderful!" Perhaps the experience of flight is the deepest yearning of the human soul; the thrill and delight from soaring left Wu Ming exhilarated, his whole being filled with joy, and he could hardly resist the urge to try it again.

"If you're interested, you can try again later. For now, take a look at this," Master Qingfeng placed one hand on Wu Ming’s shoulder to restrain his eagerness, and pointed with the other toward a circle of ground in the center of the twelve golden figures.

Wu Ming followed his gesture and looked down, feeling a sudden wave of dizziness—no doubt from the dizzying height, as he had a touch of vertigo.

Forcing himself to focus, Wu Ming saw that several concentric circles seemed to surround the "Jianmu" tree.

"Let's go down and take a closer look. You have quite a courageous spirit, young friend!" With that, Master Qingfeng grabbed Wu Ming’s shoulder and leapt down.

Oh my heavens, is this old man trying to take me down with him in a suicide leap? How terrifying, Wu Ming thought to himself.

The two of them drifted downward like falling feathers. As they descended, Wu Ming gradually made out the shapes of the circles—they were actually nine enormous golden cauldrons.

"Could these be the Nine Cauldrons of King Yu?" Wu Ming cried out in astonishment.

"Indeed, they are the very same Nine Cauldrons of King Yu." In a blink, they landed above the cauldrons. From atop the golden statue’s head, the nine cauldrons had seemed minuscule; now, standing upon them, they were as vast as athletic fields, with walls at least twenty meters thick—testament to their colossal size. The twelve golden statues, by comparison, were only as tall as the cauldrons’ toenails.

It dawned on Wu Ming that they had been standing atop the ears of the golden statues; no wonder it had taken so long to drift past the head—the floating descent was much slower than falling.

"So this is how massive the Nine Cauldrons of King Yu truly are!" Wu Ming exclaimed, half-numb from the day’s unending shocks.

"The Nine Cauldrons were forged with the combined strength of the nine provinces. Now you understand why the First Emperor of Qin needed the power of the entire nation to forge the Twelve Golden Statues," Master Qingfeng smiled, stroking his beard.

"So the so-called tyranny was due to the construction of the Great Wall and the Twelve Golden Statues," Wu Ming sighed.

"If the First Emperor was so wise and powerful, why did he burn books and bury scholars?" Wu Ming puzzled aloud.

"That question, you may ask him yourself one day," Master Qingfeng replied, smiling.

"Ask him? There’s nothing left of the First Emperor but dust and bones!"

"Not necessarily. The body of the ‘Ancestral Dragon’ does not perish so easily," Master Qingfeng said thoughtfully.

"No one in this world truly lives forever! And according to historical records, the First Emperor was obsessed with alchemists’ talk of immortality and came to a bad end," Wu Ming countered.

"Those pedantic scholars—ignorant, every one of them. The Ancestral Dragon, the First Emperor, had such grand ambitions, willing to sacrifice his life’s work for the survival of humanity, yet these scholars only sought to defame his name..." Master Qingfeng, usually as calm as drifting clouds, bristled like a dog whose tail had been stepped on.

"As for the First Emperor, I can tell you clearly that he never died. He has lived to the present day. Even I have managed to survive for five centuries," Master Qingfeng resumed his tranquil demeanor.

"What? Five hundred years! Impossible—you’re not a turtle!" Wu Ming blurted out.

"Master Qingfeng, I apologize—I didn’t mean to call you a turtle, I just, I just..." Wu Ming waved his hands in embarrassment, trying to explain.

"No offense taken, young friend. I’m not so petty," Master Qingfeng smiled kindly at Wu Ming.

"I understand it’s hard for you to believe I’ve lived five hundred years. For those in the mundane world, such things are utterly inconceivable."