Jing Qian stood on the deck, gazing into the distance. The Heavenly River stretched endlessly forward, its path swallowed by clouds, destination unseen.
Only the rhythmic fluctuations of spiritual energy betrayed the subtle descent and rise of the river's flow.
Once the ship had steadied, Jing Qian withdrew his gaze and returned to his cabin.
Ten days on the river, he would not waste a moment. Settling cross-legged, he plunged into cultivation: studying the methods of condensing a Dharma Manifestation while poring over Guerrilla Warfare Across Rivers and Seas, refining his technique for fishing the void. Every breath was spent in practice.
Time slipped by quietly in this cycle of study and seclusion.
...
Meanwhile, at the Kitchen God's Workshop, Luo Tian was reaping his "reward" for earning fourth place.
Stripped bare, he had been coated in something like bread crumbs and tossed into a sizzling oil cauldron.
All his body hair was gone, his skin white and smooth, his whole figure crisping and fragrant; he looked alarmingly like a deep-fried pork cutlet.
The oil used was no ordinary grease. It was genuine fourth-rank Turtle Fat, a precious material his master had skimmed when preparing turtle soup for a powerful cultivator.
Using it to fry his disciple was, in a twisted way, perfectly fitting.
Luo Tian's master loomed beside the cauldron, built like a black tower, brawny as a bull. Each time Luo Tian tried to float to the surface, the master shoved him back down with a giant ladle.
And he cursed as he fried:
"How can anyone be as stupid as you?"
"Other geniuses overcome the strong with the weak, claw victory from desperate odds. But you? You can't even use the strength you already have!"
"Losing to a scion of the Ying Clan, fine, I'll allow it. They have the wealth of an upper third-rank Spiritual Construct behind them.
"But losing to those hammer-brained ironmongers of the Chongxuan Palace? Do you want me to lose face every time I meet their smithing chief?"
"And worse, you lost to a disciple of Pure Yang Ruins? Let one sword break your Gluttonous Cauldron Spatula? Do you take me for a fool?"
"You think Shang Xi himself came back from the grave?"
"For three hundred years, Pure Yang hasn't produced a single disciple at the Heaven's Mandate level. To shatter your weapon would take nothing less than the rebirth of the original Pure Yangzi!
"If such a disciple truly appeared, then the Mirror Cloud Shrine, Wuchang Monastery, and Blood River Sect would be coughing up blood. They'd never let it pass so easily."
"I swear, your brain is soaked in pig fat and your heart clogged with turtle grease, you're babbling nonsense!"
"I'll fry all that filth out of you yet!"
The Kitchen God's secret body-tempering art, Twice-Cooked Steamed Flesh Refinement, was indeed effective but excruciatingly painful. Failure to endure it could be fatal.
Luo Tian had long given up hope. He didn't want to endure. He only wanted to die.
But with skin thick and flesh tougher still, the more he fried, the crispier and the more fragrant he became. Yet death would not come.
...
At the Mirror Cloud Shrine, meanwhile, Tamamo Mae knelt before a vast mirror, reporting in detail the events of the Zhuo Ling Cave-Heaven.
Her ranking no longer mattered. What was the sudden emergence of that Pure Yang Ruins cultivator a true thorn in their side?
A voice came from within the mirror:
"The three of our sects have kept watch too closely for Pure Yang to produce such a talent openly.
"None of the disciples Shang Xi sent through the Academy's Feast of Offerings matches this one. That boy must be a secret disciple, trained in the shadows."
"To think after all our precautions, Shang Xi still managed to pull this off."
Tamamo frowned, voicing her doubt:
"High Priest, if that is true, why did Shang Xi not first usher the boy formally into the sect?
"As it stands, this spirit child never passed the Feast of Offerings. He has no qualification to inherit the Pure Yang lineage.
"And now that he's shown his hand in the Zhuo Ling Cave-Heaven, there is no chance that our three sects will allow him to enter Pure Yang's gates.
"At every future Feast of Offerings, the moment he shows himself, he will be marked.
"Without the grotto's illusions to shield him, he can only unleash his potential once. After that, he'll never be our match."
But the mirror voice replied:
"I fear Shang Xi will not live to see another century, let alone the next opening of the grotto-heaven.
"If the boy is truly as gifted and formidable as you say, Shang Xi cannot afford to wait. He must gamble everything on this one chance."
Tamamo prostrated fully, voice eager:
"High Priest, let me go to the next Feast of Offerings. I will block that boy's path myself. I will wipe away my disgrace and avenge the Zhuo Ling Cave-Heaven."
But the mirror voice was cold:
"You are but a Longevity cultivator, and you've already suffered defeat. This matter is not yours to handle.
"I will write to the Wuchang Monastery and the Blood River Sect. None of us can shirk this. Together, we will make one decisive strike and end it.
"We've endured Shang Xi for too long. Now, finally, we will outlast him.
"Once Pure Yang falls, the yoke upon our necks will at last be broken!"
...
Inside the Feathering Gate, Ling Mingji stood before a Life Furnace, his brows tightly furrowed.
Within the furnace lay a crimson egg, roasted by the pure flames of a fifth-rank Fate Fire. Light flickered across its shell, spiritual power surging and ebbing in strange rhythms.
Ling Mingji carefully guided the Zhuo Ling Qi he had worked so hard to obtain into the furnace, wrapping it around the spirit egg.
At once, the egg began to draw in the qi. Its surface pulsed and flickered like a beating heart.
Ling Mingji extended his senses, then turned to the man behind him and spoke:
"Sect Master, this disciple's strength is lacking. I failed to gather enough Zhuo Ling Qi to ensure the Phoenix Lord's rebirth."
The man behind him had an immortal's bearing, white skin, crimson hair, cultivating the Dao lineage of the Celestial Crane. His presence was refined, otherworldly. He was the current Sect Master of the Feathering Gate.
"It is not your fault," the sect master sighed. "It is our sect that has failed you, unable to give you the support you needed.
If the Phoenix Lord were still here, just two feathers lent to you would have been enough for at least a fourth-place finish.
But our sect's foundation has been consumed almost entirely by this attempt at the Phoenix Lord's rebirth. Two generations of disciples have been dragged down by it. That is my failing as sect master!"
He paused, then added with a trace of hope:
"Still, what you said about the Pure Yang Ruins suggests there may be another chance.
As long as Pure Yang does not fall, our Feathering Gate can hold on.
If the Phoenix Lord completes her nirvana, regains her Heaven's Mandate, and ascends to a rank among the upper three grades, then we will have endured.
At that time, I will personally invite the Phoenix Lord to capture a true dragon from the Demon Kingdom, to help you rebuild your Spiritual Construct."
Ling Mingji bowed in deep thanks.
In truth, he bore no resentment at all. Helping the sect's fourth-rank Spiritual Construct, the Five-Element Celestial Phoenix, ascend was the duty of every disciple of the Feathering Gate.
Besides, to send him into the Zhuo Ling Cave-Heaven, the sect had given him their last Feather of Nirvana, a fourth-rank temporal treasure of immeasurable value.
The sect master continued:
"I must send word to True Person Shang Xi, urging him to protect our disciples as they enter the sect. We cannot let them fall again into the schemes of those three rival sects."
But Ling Mingji shook his head.
"Do not press him too hard, Sect Master. True Person Shang Xi has already done his utmost. In his place, you or I may not have lasted to this day at all."
The sect master sighed heavily.
...
Meanwhile, Jing Qian hurried toward Yingdu, full of anticipation for the upcoming Academy Feast.
He had no idea that, because he had cultivated The Hidden Sword Casket of the Pure Yang Ruins, the undercurrents of the entire realm had begun to shift, and many great cultivators were plotting against him.
But such things could not disturb him. Soldiers would be met with generals, water with earth. As long as his own strength was enough, as long as his sword was sharp enough, every outside scheme could be cut apart with a single stroke!
On the Heavenly River Waterway, the voyage was only halfway through. Jing Qian tossed aside Guerrilla Warfare Across Rivers and Seas and slipped into the Void Realm.
His studies of fishing the void had borne fruit; he had already devised a workable plan. But preparations were needed.
Seated cross-legged, he sank his mind into the space of his Fate Stele, pressed Weaving Souls against the Sumeru Dao Stele, and spent sixty years of his lifespan to once again open a thread of Heaven's Mandate Knowledge.
To perfect his fishing method, he had even altered his cultivation order, bringing the Weaving Souls' life pattern forward ahead of schedule.
After all, for any successful angler, research and refinement of one's gear was an eternal pursuit worth any cost.
When elevated to Heaven's Mandate, Weaving Souls became a peerless fishing line stronger even than the Fishing Elder's thread!
Dao resonance swirled, and a new mandate was born:
Entwining Karma · Jing Qian
Rank: Heaven's Mandate Unique
"All effects arise from causes; when bound, all blossoms fade, and the moon sets to the west."
With line and bait ready, he now lacked only a hook strong enough to land his prey.
The rod and float mattered less. With bait of modest rank, he would not draw in overly powerful fish anyway; makeshift substitutes would do for now.
But the hook that decided whether the catch would slip away. A poor hook meant endless empty hauls. That, he could not accept.
With another Heaven's Mandate under his belt, Jing Qian's strength climbed still further.
And at last, his long, fruitful journey was drawing to a close.
He sensed it clearly: the Xingjiang's speed was slowing. The ship had reached Yingdu.
He stepped onto the deck, waiting for the final stretch of the Heavenly River.
The ship was now moving with breathtaking swiftness, faster than it could ever travel under its own power, and the destination lay just ahead.
Jing Qian's vision, enhanced by two ghosts and the divine sight of Worldly Insight, pierced across a hundred li as though it were nothing.
He saw it: eleven massive rivers converging in the distance, collapsing into a vast whirlpool.
Some ships closer ahead had already plunged into the vortex, vanishing within.
This was the territory of Jingzhou, the true heartland of the Divine Dynasty.
Here, the density of spiritual qi was three times that of the Purple Bamboo Isle, and compared to barren Hunzhou, more than tenfold.
Simply living in Jingzhou was a heaven-sent opportunity.
And among all twelve upper prefectures of the Divine Dynasty, only Jingzhou barred mortals from entry.
No commoner could survive here, both to preserve Jingzhou's dignity and because the qi was so rich that ordinary humans would simply perish under its weight.
Within Hunzhou, spiritual qi was so thin that the proportion of cultivators never even reached one in ten thousand.
But on Purple Bamboo Isle, abundant qi and powerful Dao lineages boosted the number of cultivators a hundredfold; one in a hundred were practitioners.
Even so, compared to Jingzhou, where every single person was a cultivator, the difference was immeasurable.
The cultivators of Jingzhou were undoubtedly fortunate.
To be born in the Divine Dynasty's very heart, nurtured from the start by such overflowing qi, meant their path was leagues ahead of those from the outer prefectures.
For countless cultivators, emigrating to Jingzhou, the empire's core province, was the ultimate dream.
Outsiders like Jing Qian, however, could never reside there permanently.
If not for his qualification to participate in the Academy Feast, at best, he could stay only until the Heavenly River shifted once more. Then he would have to leave.
Yet Jingzhou held little appeal for him. Within his own Void Realm, the qi density was already nearing that of Jingzhou itself.
Still, that didn't stop him from being utterly stunned when, piercing the whirlpool and descending over Yingdu, he first glimpsed the truth behind the Heavenly River's power.
...
A colossal beast lay before him.
The surging Heavenly River, descending from the heavens, was clamped between the jaws of this giant creature.
The monster was tens of thousands of zhang tall, like a living mountain, exuding boundless power.
It slumbered on its back across the land, snoring rhythmically, though its snores made no sound.
With each inhale and exhale, the river's flow reversed.
An exhale marked the Downstream Days.
An inhale marked the Upstream Days.
The Heavenly River, flowing endlessly across the empire, its tides turning with flawless regularity, was powered simply by the breathing of this terrifying spirit-beast.
One breath in, one breath out: a month.
The rhythm that governed travel and trade across the entire Divine Dynasty was born from its slumber.
The sheer immensity of this power left Jing Qian speechless.
It was also the Ying Clan's deliberate show of force.
Any who thought to challenge the dynasty were reminded: could they even withstand such a monster?
...
Spiritual Construct: Heaven-Devouring Taowu
Type: Outer Dao Moon
Rank: Third Grade
Suppression Requirements: Manifestation of Stars, Manifestation of Rivers, Manifestation of Taowu
Lifespan Burden: Two months per day
This Star-River Taowu had once been raised by an emperor of the Ying Clan. For reasons unknown, it had been left outside Yingdu, where it fell into unending slumber.
Later, Ying Clan experts harnessed its rhythmic breathing as a power source.
Together with another Spiritual Construct, they forged today's Heavenly River Waterway:
Spiritual Construct: Heavenly River
Type: Outer Dao Moon
Rank: Fourth Grade
Suppression Requirements: Manifestation of Mountains and Seas
Lifespan Burden: Ten days per day
Two supreme Spiritual Constructs, emblems of the Ying Clan's overwhelming foundation.
...
Standing at the prow, Jing Qian activated Worldly Insight, sketching the two Spiritual Constructs into memory.
Merely observing such wonders was enough to elevate his cultivation.
This was another blessing unique to Jingzhou. From the moment they entered the Dao, Jingzhou cultivators could witness high-grade Spiritual Constructs firsthand. Their worldview, their cultivation outlook, and their understanding of the Dao were all immeasurably broader than those of their peers from the provinces, who busied themselves with petty squabbles.
No wonder Jingzhou produced talents with higher ambitions and greater achievements.
The Xingjiang pushed forward, oppressed by the terrifying aura of the Taowu.
Passengers trembled as though facing their doom.
This was merely the creature's unconscious leakage of power.
Had a mortal been present, they would have died on the spot, organs ruptured, soul scattered.
When the river finally extended into the Taowu's jaws, the captain urged the ship upward, landing it on the beast's lower lip.
Hundreds of ships had already moored there, their passengers disembarking.
From the Taowu's lips stretched a broad blue-gold avenue, paved from priceless treasure-metal.
It ran across the lip, along the jawline, down the thick neck, across its massive shoulder, and onto the ground.
This was the passage in and out of the beast.
As Jing Qian stepped off the ship and onto the monster's lip, he couldn't help but sigh.
The people of Jingzhou truly have no fear. If this Taowu ever woke up and gave a single lick, wouldn't all these people be pig feed in an instant?
Shaking his head, he followed the glittering avenue downward.
Around him, countless cultivators bustled. At least a third were already at the Dragon-Elephant level or higher.
Ninth-grade Fatebindings here were like common laborers elsewhere, pulling tow ropes, unloading goods, ferrying passengers on the backs of Pack-Dragons.
Jing Qian casually mounted one of the scaled beasts and addressed the rider like hailing a carriage driver:
"Please take me to the Fan Clan's Jinhua Hall."
The driver grinned and nodded.
"Aye! Sit tight, honored guest."
The driver spurred the Pack-Dragon forward, and in an instant, its speed broke a hundred miles per hour. On the steep, sloping avenue, the beast ran as though on level ground.
The Pack-Dragon looked like a horse with hooves and tail, but it was a genuine ninth-grade demon beast, carrying the faint trace of true dragon blood. They had been domesticated and bred in vast numbers, used by humans as a standard means of transportation.
Not only could they bear heavy loads, but they also absorbed qi on their own, able to survive on nothing but the wind. They didn't need to eat much, yet could pull tirelessly, making them the very definition of cost-effective.
As the dragon galloped, the driver struck up a conversation:
"Honored guest, are you also heading to Jinhua Hall for their clearance sale of top-tier spirit robes?"
"Their direct heir, the young master, was found to have no cultivation talent at all, unable to bind fate. A great merchant house brought low, the family's sky has collapsed!"
"Now, among the direct line, only a brother and a sister remain, but neither has the aptitude for cultivation. With no future to speak of, they're about to be stripped of their inheritance altogether, with control of Jinhua Hall passing to a branch family of the Fan Clan."
"Because of this, the hall has halted business entirely, even unloading the treasures from the bottom of their chests at bargain prices. All the noble ladies and female cultivators of Yingdu are flocking there to buy."
"If you have the means, you might grab a couple of pieces yourself. Resell them to the right wealthy matron, and you're guaranteed to make a fortune!"
Jing Qian rubbed his nose, surprised to hear such juicy inside news from the mouth of a cabbie.
Sure enough, in any world, drivers were well-informed and endlessly talkative.
And to think just over a year had passed, and already his two acquaintances from the Fan Clan had suffered such a catastrophe.
He recalled promising Fan Zhuoyi that he would reach Yingdu within half a year to help resolve the torment of the Fate-Locking Needle. Yet the unexpected trials of the Zhuoling Cave-Heaven had delayed him more than six months beyond his word.
Their plight weighed on his conscience. He could only hope he had not come too late to make amends.
The Pack-Dragon ran down the slope of the Heaven-Devouring Taowu, then galloped north for another fifty li before a towering city appeared, the very heart of the Divine Dynasty, the capital of the human realm: Yingdu.
The city was a perfect square, each wall ten li long, built entirely from sixth-grade Amethyst Bronze Crystal. Under the sunlight, the walls gleamed with dazzling spiritual radiance.
Within dwelled a hundred thousand true cultivators, at least twenty percent of them formally ranked Spirit Officials of the dynasty, all directly under the Ying imperial clan.
It was precisely this terrifying corps of direct-line cultivators that allowed the Ying Clan to dominate the entire Yingfutu Realm.
...
Inside Yingdu, the streets were laid out in a perfect grid, crisscrossing like a chessboard. Along either side of the roads stood residences and treasure shops, each unique in style.
Beneath every residence lay a qi core no weaker than that of Jiangzhu Isle, capable of supporting a household's personal Life Furnace and supplying all their daily cultivation needs.
One isle's worth of qi for one household: such was the extravagance of Yingdu. Each family lived with overflowing resources enough even for cultivators of the middle third rank to practice without want.
Yet, residing in Yingdu was anything but easy. Beyond the staggering cost of purchasing such spirit-homes, there was also the crushing daily expense of maintaining their qi supply.
To secure steady qi, one either paid dearly in coin… or earned exemptions.
Households with a Spirit Official in imperial service received deductions; the higher the post, the greater the discount. A proper seventh-rank official could reduce costs by 95%, effectively living for free.
Master craftsmen could also earn reductions: Hundred-Forge artisans cut costs by 60%, Thousand-Forge by 90%, and Ten-Thousand-Forge enjoyed free qi plus state subsidies.
Finally, prodigious students who passed the Academy Feast and entered the Academy's Dao lineages received relief as well: half off for those who entered the lower rankings, and total exemption for the elite who entered the twelve supreme Dao lineages until they reached immortality or perished.
In this way, the Ying Dynasty used its bottomless well of qi to lure masses of cultivators into permanent residence, while its tiered exemptions filtered out the most gifted talents, securing strength for the empire and preserving centuries of stability.
Most of all, the dynasty's almost cruel system of choosing heirs to the Human Emperor, survivors of brutal contests across five cave-heavens ensured that every crown prince was a peerless genius. Thus, no foolish monarch ever arose, and the Ying Clan's dominance remained eternal.
...
To Jing Qian's eyes, this strict order, solid structure, endless talent, and profound heritage, combined with a remarkably fluid social hierarchy, made the dynasty more than worthy to rule the realm.
And he himself, as a newly appointed ninth-rank Spirit Official, came to sit the imperial examinations, was already seamlessly woven into that system.
The Pack-Dragon carried him through the city until at last it stopped before a dilapidated mansion. Jing Qian dismounted, paid his fare, and stood at his destination.
Above the gates, the Fan Clan's ancestral plaque remained as weighty and resplendent as ever. But the bloodline beneath it was faltering.
He stepped forward and pressed a touch of qi onto the bronze bell fixed to the gate. A soft chime rang out, signaling those inside: a guest has arrived.
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