"The Dragon's Lips give rise to sound;
The Dragon's Gums channel its roar."
The term "Dragon Gums" originally referred to the block of hardwood mounted at the tail end of a Zither, used to anchor the strings and enable it to produce sound.
This particular zither was named after that part.
First, the name reflected the essence of sound itself, evoking the Daoist ideal of "the grandest sound is silence" and "great truths are simple."
Second, "Dragon Gums" is a homophone of "Dragon Roar", hinting at the true and unique nature of the instrument's voice.
Its tone was not ethereal or lofty, but rather deep and far-reaching, like the roar of a dragon or the howl of a tiger, majestic and awe-inspiring, capable of shaking one's soul.
Dragon Gums was crafted 2,300 years ago in the long-fallen ancient kingdom of Qi by the Sage of Music, Xi Mengquan.
After Qi's collapse, the instrument wandered through chaos and war for thousands of miles before finally ending up in the hands of Emperor Su Yu of Liang, becoming one of his prized treasures, sealed high upon a palace shelf.
The most legendary tale surrounding the Zither Dragon Gums is Xi Mengquan's "visit to the Dragon Palace."
They say the free-spirited music sage once dozed off atop a decorative rock in his garden during a lazy afternoon and in that dreamlike daze, his soul wandered free of his body and roamed the Dragon King's palace beneath the sea, witnessing wonders never seen by mortal eyes.
There, he plucked a massive cluster of blood-red coral.
Only, it turned out that coral was actually the gum of the slumbering Dragon King!
The earth shook, waves roared, and the "palace" was revealed to be the immense body of the beast itself.
Xi Mengquan jolted awake in a panic, only to find the decorative rock beneath him had become that same blood-jade coral.
Was it dream or not? Reality or fantasy?
No one could say but the legend claimed that this very coral became the body of the Zither 'Dragon Gums'.
Yet, in Chen Kuang's own memory, the version his blind, vagrant master told him was entirely different.
"Xi Mengquan never wandered any damn Dragon Palace. Who has the time for that kind of crap?"
The old man then tossed him a tattered scorebook.
The book was written in blind script, used and passed only among blind musicians. To outsiders, it was no different than cipher text.
In addition to music scores, it also included strange folk tales never heard elsewhere.
"They say, back in the day, he sailed past Dongting Lake and saw the lake's Dragon Lord oppressing fishermen, demanding child sacrifices, drowning them in cages. Xi Mengquan leapt into the lake and knocked out all the beast's front teeth."
"His sword broke in the fight. But one of the dragon's teeth had come loose, still attached to its gum. He saw it fit nicely in his hand, cleaned it in the lake, and forged it into a sword."
The blindfolded child asked timidly,
"But... wasn't it a zither?"
The old man patted his head with a grin.
"How would you know what a zither looks like? You ever seen one? You can't even see now."
The boy shook his head honestly.
"We were poor back then, I never saw one. And now... I can't see at all."
The old man just laughed.
"Then if you've never seen it, what it is depends on what you think it is. If you think it's a sword, then it is a sword."
Right wrongs with a blade, slay dragons with music, if it's not a zither, then it's a sword.
That was another story altogether.
But the old man had spoken as if he knew Xi Mengquan personally. Calm and casual.
Which, of course, was impossible.
That penniless vagabond had bought Chen Kuang for just 10 kilograms of rice only to sell him off as an apprentice to the Ministry of Rites later, for three taels of silver.
A zero-cost deal.
Could someone like that possibly have known the Sage of Music who once shattered half a mountain with a single performance of "Heaven's Inquiry"?
Chen Kuang once dismissed those tales as nothing but fanciful fiction.
Until that day, years later, when he was already a court musician.
Emperor Su Yu, in a rare whimsical mood, took out Dragon Gums and made it the prize of a competition among the Ministry's musicians.
That was when Chen Kuang learned: the legendary zither had fallen silent for a thousand years. No one could produce even a full verse on it.
Whoever could play just a single phrase would be rewarded with a solid gold goblet.
Musicians scrambled to try, but none could play more than the first note.
When it was Chen Kuang's turn, his mind instinctively recalled that odd old tale.
Back then, he had never seen a zither or a sword.
To him, they were one and the same.
What if... a zither could be a sword?
...
"Zheng-!"
The first note rang out as a murderous intent burst forth.
A dragon's roar swept through the palace hall that day.
Instantly, the guards at the emperor's side unsheathed their swords, metal clashing, the chaotic sound disrupting the second note.
It was a sword.
That was what Chen Kuang thought in that moment.
And despite the emperor's repeated pleas, he could never again recreate that melody.
That was the only time Chen Kuang ever received the emperor's favor.
Shortly after, he was framed, nearly whipped to death by rival musician Luo Yuezheng.
With his hands wounded and unable to perform, the emperor quickly forgot him.
Even the promised gold goblet never reached his hands, no one knew who intercepted it.
Back in the prison, Huo Hengxuan soon lost interest in watching Chen Kuang adjust the instrument. He leaned against the railing, gnawing a steamed bun while staring at the night sky.
The strange stars had reappeared, this time, flickering erratically.
Chen Kuang finished tuning.
The body of Dragon Gums was carved from translucent blood-jade, but the slightly upturned head of the instrument was a smooth, snow-white hue. The whole thing was longer and narrower than a typical Zither.
It really did look like a dragon's broken tooth, gum still attached.
Whichever story was true, legend or folk tale, it didn't matter.
Because Chen Kuang knew: this Zither... really was a sword.
When he'd played that note before, the danger was real.
If he had intended to kill that day, Emperor Su Yu's head would have rolled before the second string vibrated.
It wasn't "sound-killing" magic or anything esoteric.
This was a sword of concept. A weapon bound by will alone.
And no one alive knew its true nature, except him... and that vagabond master who had once bought him with a bowl of rice.
Thanks to this secret, Chen Kuang, a lowly prisoner, now possessed a weapon that would never be suspected.
It would be his greatest trump card in the trials ahead.
"But then... who was that master, really?"
The question loomed in his heart.
That man never even gave him a name.
Just "Teacher."
He never really raised him, he just used him to beg for food.
Three years later, he sold Chen Kuang off again and simply vanished without a trace.
But those three years were enough to elevate Chen Kuang's musical skill to shocking heights.
He had tried searching for him afterward, but found nothing. It was as if he'd vanished into smoke.
"Maybe he never wanted to be found in the first place. No point overthinking it."
Chen Kuang shook his head and closed his eyes.
He began meditating on the Mud-Forged Gold Body Technique.
A body cultivation method requiring no special gifts or lineage, but still immensely powerful.
Its training relied on specific seated poses paired with breath control to guide blood and qi, tempering the entire body.
There were eight stances known as the "Eight Manifestations."
Descent from Tusita Heaven.
White Lotus Rebirth.
Twin Dragons Bathe the Buddha.
Moon-Clad Kasaya.
Vajra Bodhi.
Supreme Dao Fruit.
Wheel of Elixir.
Nirvana and Extinction.
Each stance marked a level of mastery.
The first, Descent from Tusita Heaven, looked deceptively simple, a relaxed, cross-legged sitting pose.
But the internal mechanics, circulating blood, muscle control, required microscopic precision. Without Huo Hengxuan's guidance, it would've taken three years just to get started.
"Truly, General Huo went easy on me. Must be my lack of talent."
"Otherwise, why wouldn't he have taught me that more dangerous sword art, Wither-Bloom Sword Manual, instead?"
Chen Kuang sighed wryly.
This method clearly came from Buddhist origins. Its names and philosophy screamed esoteric monastery lineage.
But for someone like Huo Hengxuan, an infamous war god, who knew what paths he'd walked in his lifetime?
Still, Chen Kuang couldn't deny it was powerful.
These eight stances mirrored the Buddha's path to enlightenment.
It had to be a genuine secret technique of the Buddhist sects.
But clearly, Huo Hengxuan specialized in the sword.
He'd probably prepared to teach everything... only to stop short when he saw Chen Kuang's lack of aptitude.
The hesitation was understandable. Sword arts required sharp minds and deadly will.
Body tempering? Those were way easier to manage.
It was like a teacher suddenly braking before the final sprint. A test of great restraint.
Chen Kuang accepted it, after all, he wasn't in a position to complain.
Sometimes, being a transmigrator wasn't all it was hyped, up to be.
As he struggled to understand the technique, distracting thoughts kept popping into his head:
"This isn't scientific."
"How can the human body do this?"
"Is spiritual energy just programmable nanotech?"
That sort of nonsense.
He couldn't concentrate at all.
From the side, Huo Hengxuan glanced over, saw his crooked pose and contorted limbs, and visibly twitched.
The old man sighed before he turned away.
"Thank the heavens I'm not putting all my hopes on this kid..."
He bit into his last piece of steamed bun and slowly chewed.
Crack.
A subtle sound.
In his mouth, something between his teeth snapped.
Without blinking, Huo Hengxuan used his tongue to retrieve the thread-like object, then swallowed it.
It wasn't truly thread.
It was a needle, formed from thousands of strands of refined gold, twisted into a flexible wire.
Capable of infiltrating his meridians and unlocking the restrictions placed upon his core.
He only had one chance.
Failure was not an option.
The jailer he'd "recognized" earlier tonight... had been a plant.
A mole.
Inserted into the Zhou army long ago.
Even without Chen Kuang's help, Huo Hengxuan had planned to get that man reassigned to the prison.
But what he couldn't do was replace all the jailers at once.
That had truly shocked him.
"If I'd found this kid a few years earlier and brought him into the army..."
He shook his head.
"No. Better for him to have his own life. The battlefield's no place for someone with a future."
Then, seeing Chen Kuang still fumbling through the basics, Huo Hengxuan grumbled:
"If you've gotta take a shit, just go on the floor. No need to pose and moo like a constipated cow!"
Chen Kuang's face darkened.
"You old bastard! That's crossing the line!"
"I'm not talentless on purpose! Why didn't you teach something even simpler if you knew I was dumb?!"
Huo Hengxuan pointed at the little slop bucket girl nearby.
"If I taught that girl basic math, she'd have it mastered in three tries!"
The little girl blinked innocently.
Chen Kuang fell silent.
Huo Hengxuan gave a snort, but there was disappointment in his eyes.
Chen Kuang clenched his fists.
He wasn't giving up.
But just then, his vision blurred.
[Status Updated]
[You received Huo Hengxuan's guidance and learned "Wither-Bloom Sword Manual" and "Mud-Forged Gold Body Technique."]
[You have gained the passive trait: 'Martial Arts Prodigy', A once-in-a-millennium genius, with extraordinary bone structure and open meridians. Any martial art is mastered at a glance, learned in an instant.]
BOOM!
It was like a bolt of lightning had shattered the fog in his mind.
His body surged with qi and blood, Spiritual Energy rushing like a tidal wave through his muscles and bones.
The experience and teachings were instantly absorbed, fusing directly with his instincts.
He subtly adjusted his posture and everything suddenly fell into place.
Qi and blood began circulating, hammering his body with newfound force.
At the same time, a strange sensation arose, like he was soaking in warm amniotic fluid.
The First Stance: Descent from Tusita Heaven, Complete!
Chen Kuang raised a brow.
"Who says talent can't be gained?"
"Hard work is overrated. Status screen, come on!"
A few breaths later, Huo Hengxuan suddenly noticed something strange.
He turned and then saw Chen Kuang sitting in perfect form, eyes shut in peaceful meditation, golden light flickering faintly beneath his lashes.
The old man's eyes bulged.
"This brat... he was pretending to be an idiot earlier?!"