Command the Waters and Marshes!

The Marsh Cauldron! A cauldron that commanded every water and marsh in the world! Inexplicable information poured in, leaving Liang Qu deeply shaken—his golden finger had appeared? The great cauldron was archaic and unadorned, dark cyan-black in color, square and stately. Since it sat inside his mind, there was nothing to measure it against and no telling how big it was—but in sheer impression, it struck hard. Its surface was carved with many designs. The most eye-catching were a giant ape and a heavenly dragon coiled upon itself, followed by monsters with human faces and birds' bodies, dragons' heads on human torsos, and many figures besides. The other side bore a black-robed Great Emperor—this one even more extravagant, filling nearly half the cauldron's face—then a spear-bearing divine general carved at nearly the same scale, and past them more figures still, mostly human in form. Beasts on one side, humans on the other? Liang Qu was about to think it over when his attention was pulled elsewhere. [Cauldron Master: Liang Qu] [Marsh spirit obtainable: Water Monkey (White)] [Acquiring…] [Acquired. Refine it in?] [Marsh spirit: a spirit of the waters. Refine a marsh spirit, and you gain its fate, its bloodline, and its innate gifts.] It really was a goddamn golden finger! But why a water monkey? Because he had drowned? A trending phrase surfaced in Liang Qu's mind: old man, subway, phone. No—surely that had nothing to do with it. Liang Qu shook his head hard and hauled his attention back. Refine the marsh spirit, or not? He looked at the walls around him and touched his freshly filled belly. Did he really have a choice? He had come all this way—how could he settle for being an ordinary man? Everyone had two eyes and one mouth, yet some were born of noble blood and some of low, some sipped meat broth while ordering others about, and some went hungry and got ordered about. He could not forget that martial master who had punched clean through a boulder as tall as a man. What, in the end, was a martial master!? Refine!! With Liang Qu's decision, something like a white spirit monkey, half real and half illusion, seemed to fly out of the Marsh Cauldron and pour into his body, swimming through the air as if it were water. A current of warmth spread out from his spine and flowed through every limb and bone. If his life had begun as a guttering candle in the wind, this warmth was like a fresh length of wax half a candle long—no longer on the verge of flickering out. But before he could get a real feel for it, the warmth vanished without a trace, leaving him wanting more. [Refinement successful!] [Cauldron Master: Liang Qu] [Marsh spirit refined: Water Monkey (White) (fusion rate: 5%)] [Essence of the waters: none] [River's favor: none] [Evaluation: the Water Monkey marsh spirit descends from the great Lord of Huai and Guo; as it stands, a small figure whose potential is barely awakened, of mild nature and weak fate.] "So consuming essence of the waters raises a marsh spirit's fusion rate, and even lifts its quality. But who is this Lord of Huai and Guo? The name sounds so familiar. And where am I supposed to get essence of the waters?" Plenty of questions still sat in Liang Qu's mind, but he was in no hurry—one step at a time. First, what exactly was this water monkey? [Water Monkey (White): a water-dwelling spirit monkey, beloved of the rivers, with power over water] [Fusion rate currently low: reduces his exertion in water; by spending stamina he can command the force of thirty jin of water; senses in detail within three meters, senses waters vaguely within five meters, and reduces his presence in the water] [Consuming essence of the waters may upgrade it into the marsh spirit Marsh Marmoset (Cyan), riding the waters and waves, and then the Water King Ape (Purple), overturning rivers and seas.] Liang Qu was overjoyed. The marsh spirit's name might be all wet, but its abilities were anything but—simply a natural in the water! The Jianghuai waterways stretched ten thousand li, enriching the land and sustaining hundreds of millions of living creatures. The Jianghuai marshlands were one vast lake spanning several prefectures, and its waters held spirit plants, treasure fish, and minerals past counting. But treasures in the water were desperately hard to come by. For one thing, great demons dwelt in the deeps, more than human martial masters could contend with; for another, the water's depths were dim and chaotic, their spiritual energies obscure, so treasures were hard to find—only now and then did some fisherman strike lucky in the shallows and pick up one or two. Just last month, someone at the neighboring wharf had caught a tiger-head grouper and sold it for the staggering price of a full three taels and five qian of silver! If he truly had such an ability, wouldn't he hold the key to an unopened treasure vault? And at five percent fusion he could command thirty jin of water—at one hundred percent, that had to be six hundred jin at least? To an ordinary person, that would be a water god walking the earth. And there were other marsh spirits to acquire! To upgrade! If a white marsh spirit was this fierce, what would cyan and purple ones be like? That promised "overturning of rivers and seas" set his heart ablaze. White, cyan, purple—and beyond that? Was there anything higher? For a while Liang Qu's eyes burned with longing for that so-called essence of the waters, but with no way to get hold of it for now, it would have to wait. As for why a divine artifact had chosen him, Liang Qu figured it had to be heaven rewarding him for boldly doing the right thing. What else? Was it after his malnutrition? His empty rice bowl? His lack of father and mother? He had precisely that much pathetic ability to his name—what was there to overthink? With a golden finger in hand, Liang Qu couldn't possibly go back to sleeping the days away. The old him couldn't fish, and had been pressed so hard just to scrape by that everyone around steered clear of him. But now, on five percent of a Water Monkey's power alone, few fishermen in all of Yixing could outdo him. Good days were on their way! To the wharf! The night was dark and windy, buildings lining the street in close, orderly ranks. Liang Qu looked about, taking the measure of this unfamiliar world. In all of Yixing there was only one street that truly counted as a street, running straight from the heart of town to the one and only Shangrao Wharf, paved end to end with tidy bluestone slabs. Everything else was yellow mud beaten flat by footsteps, and most of the houses had been built stretching along that one street. A small place, and no mistake. As far as Liang Qu knew, a prosperous big town sat right beside Yixing, and above it were counties, prefectures, and grand prefectures. He found nothing strange in this. This world was plainly an ancient one: a "market town" was not bigger than a county, but a settlement that had slowly gathered around a market, like Zengtou Market in the Water Margin—called a town, really a little village living off the river. Once he had the ability, he absolutely had to go out and see this world! At the wharf, still winded, Liang Qu swept his eyes across the water along the bank. As he drew level with a certain shoal, a flash of inspiration suddenly lit his mind, and his gaze locked hard onto one spot. A little fish the size of a thumb suddenly rose to the surface for air. It was as if inspiration had descended: Liang Qu actually reached out a hand to snatch the bold little fish. The fish reacted sharply, whirling to flee in its fright—but in an instant, uncanny water pressure closed in on it from every side. When the pressure lifted and it tried to bolt again, the fish was already in Liang Qu's palm. Formidable indeed! Liang Qu scooped up a handful of clear water, and the little fish swam in his palm as he watched, eyes bright. He licked his lips and dipped his hand into the water. The moment his cupful touched the lake, the fish flicked its tail and darted off—but the water pressure came quickly, and it was caught in his hand once more. Four or five rounds of this gave him the feel of it, and only then did he stand. A thumb-sized fish took only a trickle of water to control, and the stamina cost was tolerable. But spending a large amount of water in a short burst would be punishing. "A pity the marsh spirit's fusion rate is still so low—my control of water is crude. I can only squeeze it, can't shape it into a blade, let alone control blood. That should come, in time." Among the reed beds, Liang Qu stripped off his clothes and waded slowly into the water. The moment he entered, he felt the difference—it wasn't cold! Late autumn, the middle of the night—water out in the marshlands cut to the bone. It was from going into the water and catching a chill that his "father" had died. So this was what affinity with water brought? Liang Qu tied up his hair and plunged headfirst into the river. Ripples spread out and shattered the moonlight. Fully submerged in the water, he felt an indescribable sense of belonging spread through him—even giving him the illusion of having returned to his old world. That happiness—one yuan on the bus to the city park to watch the sunset, then home to curl up on the sofa with a bowl of noodles—took Liang Qu a long moment to shake off. To keep on living—and live better! He settled his thoughts and gave his mind to finding fish. The water's depths were pitch-black and deep. With his sensing ability, he could tell there was something alive anywhere within five meters, but for a fish to notice him, it had to come within a meter and a half. A long, free swim, and Liang Qu "saw" plenty of fish—but none would fetch a good price, so he left them be. Steamed buns went for two or three wen; an eight-wen meat shaobing was decent-sized and stayed with you. His body's weakness had been built up day after day—one meal doesn't make a fat man. After a few more laps, Liang Qu, surfacing for air, finally spotted a suitable target. A large yellow croaker, about as long as a grown man's forearm, around three jin. Yellow croaker was a fish found only in the Jianghuai—middling as nourishment, but prized for its delicate flesh, and plenty of old gourmets would pay handsomely for it. This one ought to fetch seventy to ninety wen. As the saying went, one jin of fish took ten jin of strength—right at the limit of Liang Qu's control of water. And yellow croakers had fine scales, unlike ordinary fish, wet and slippery and hard to grip. So thinking, Liang Qu crept in close, swimming to about a meter and a half—the far edge of his concealment—then burst forward. The croaker startled and tried to flee, but Liang Qu curled his fingers loosely, and water pressure from every side locked it in place, unable to move. He stroked forward, fingers like hooks, seized the fine-scaled fish, swam up and out of the water with it, and threaded a reed leaf through its gills. Eighty wen, in hand!