Chapter 195: Tian Gong

Zheng Fa extended his hand and took the silver scroll floating in the void, noticing a red frame on its cover—empty, as if waiting for him to write something within.

He tried to open its pages, but the scroll seemed glued shut, unmoving no matter how hard he pulled.

He attempted to project his spiritual sense into it, but the scroll gave no response.

"Brother Zheng, you must write your name onto the cover using your spiritual sense—only then will the Divine Register recognize you as its master."

Yan Wushuang's voice came from behind him.

Zheng Fa followed his advice and inscribed his name with his spiritual sense; instantly, his mind felt a mysterious connection form between himself and the scroll.

He thought of it, and the once-uncooperative Divine Register obediently opened itself.

The first page depicted a crude map—so vague it offered no sense of direction.

It demanded considerable imagination to interpret.

The second page bore two characters: Tian Gong, followed by a zero.

From the third page onward, the content changed.

The third page listed the exact time and location of tomorrow's thunderbolts, their strength, even their length in inches and feet.

The fourth page specified the precise rainfall for the day after tomorrow, down to the millimeter.

Roughly ten pages followed this pattern.

Beyond that, Zheng Fa could no longer understand.

"The front is a calendar; the back contains spells—well, incomplete spells," Yan Wushuang explained as he and others approached Zheng Fa, his expression grim: "This is why the Heavenly Stele World leaves us all baffled."

Zheng Fa looked at these people and felt their attitude toward him had shifted.

Yan Wushuang showed no change, but those beside him—Chu Tianque and the others who had entered later—regarded him with different eyes.

Seeing his puzzled expression,

Yan Wushuang chuckled: "Brother Zheng, your initial grant of five thousand li of land has shocked us all."

Zheng Fa glanced at the silver scroll in his hand and began to understand.

"And all of you?"

"In this Heavenly Stele Realm, I know of only myself who began with five thousand li of land," Yan Wushuang said with a smile. "Of course, I don't know every soul who entered the Stele—but given that I rank first on the Tian Gong List, even if others began with silver scrolls, they must be few."

"Silver scroll…" Zheng Fa bowed slightly. "May I ask—what exactly are these lands and Tian Gong?"

"You'll learn eventually," Yan Wushuang sighed. "We've only pieced this together over recent days."

"When we first entered the Heavenly Stele Realm, we were utterly confused. Later, we realized—these gods are like officials in mortal dynasties. Your land is your jurisdiction; your duty is to govern it."

Zheng Fa nodded—he understood.

"That's not the issue," Yan Wushuang murmured. "The problem is that, outside of thunder arts, you cannot use spells, talismans, or magic treasures here."

"Yes. I noticed that the moment I entered."

"That's why Tian Gong is so troublesome," Yan Wushuang continued. "We still don't understand how it's measured."

"But from what we've seen, punishing evil and rewarding good with spells grants Tian Gong."

"According to this calendar, controlling thunder, regulating rain and clouds, even promoting agriculture also grants Tian Gong."

"And of course, population growth brings Tian Gong."

"And Tian Gong can expand your land, or be exchanged for spirit materials in the Hundred Treasures Pavilion."

"All of this… is governance?" Zheng Fa said, beginning to grasp it. "Sounds simple enough?"

Yan Wushuang gave a bitter laugh. "We thought so too at first—but Brother Zheng, go to your land and you'll see why we say it's hard."

"Hmm?"

"Brother Zheng, we have a theory… to fulfill the calendar's demands, your thunder arts must reach divine mastery."

"Divine mastery?"

"Meaning—the kind of thunder art mastery no one in Xuanwei has ever achieved. No one can perfect those spells that seem utterly impossible."

…

Seeing he still didn't understand, Yan Wushuang pointed to the Divine Register.

"Brother Zheng, flip further and you'll see—the thunder arts in this scroll are divided into only three categories."

"Three categories?"

"The first is most common: Heavenly Tribulation Thunder," Yan Wushuang explained. "Used to punish evil and reward good. Most of us rely on this to accumulate Tian Gong, but we still don't understand how to control its power."

"The second is far harder: Cloud and Rain Thunder."

"Cloud and Rain Thunder?"

"It means using thunder to control rain and clouds," Yan Wushuang said, weary. "This is what the Divine Register meant by 'regulating clouds and rain.' It's harder than tribulation thunder. Look at the calendar—rainfall must be precise to the millimeter. Not only is the link between thunder and rain unclear, but even the balance itself is impossible to grasp…"

Zheng Fa froze—this was like using electromagnetic forces to induce and control rainfall.

Seeing his expression, Yan Wushuang assumed he now grasped the difficulty and groaned: "This is hard enough—but the hardest is the third category: using thunder to stimulate plant growth."

"This… has anything to do with it?" Zheng Fa couldn't follow.

"We spent much time figuring this out," Yan Wushuang said. "Eventually, we learned from Xuanwei that spirit plant cultivation heavily depends on thunder. Many sects skilled in growing spirit plants believe heavenly thunder carries vital energy…"

"Vital energy?"

"Yes. For example, the spring thunder during Jingzhe awakens spirit plants," Yan Wushuang explained. "But to replicate that spring thunder with our own thunder arts? We're clueless—and the spells in this scroll seem useless."

…

Zheng Fa suddenly recalled modern spirit plant cultivation issues—Teacher Tian had said certain environmental conditions were missing. If Yan Wushuang was right,

then that condition might be linked to some form of heavenly thunder?

The evidence was thin; Zheng Fa couldn't be certain.

But Yan Wushuang spoke with conviction, and Zheng Fa's interest in the Heavenly Stele grew.

"Though we can't accomplish these tasks, accumulating Tian Gong to exchange for suitable spirit materials for our cultivation isn't difficult," Yan Wushuang continued. "This realm holds little danger, so we come here once a month."

"Can Tian Gong only be exchanged for spirit materials?"

Zheng Fa asked.

"Of course not. We hoard Tian Gong for two reasons: first, to expand our land; second, to exchange for thunder arts. The types in this scroll are basic—others are stored in the Hundred Treasures Pavilion, available only for Tian Gong."

"That's why your five-thousand-li land at the start is so enviable," Yan Wushuang smiled. "More land means more people, and faster Tian Gong accumulation."

After speaking with Zheng Fa, Yan Wushuang seemed eager to gather Tian Gong and took his leave.

Following Yan Wushuang's instructions, Zheng Fa channeled his spiritual power into the Divine Register.

The scroll absorbed his power, then slammed against his forehead. His body turned ethereal; his spiritual sense, carried by the scroll, arrived in a vast realm.

Before he could observe his surroundings, Zheng Fa's gaze was drawn to the sky.

He saw Lei Chi inverted above him—thunderbolts lashing wildly, unrestrained across heaven and earth.

The sky hung dark and heavy, as if it would never clear.

Such weather meant constant rain—the downpour before him showed no sign of stopping.

The ground beneath him was less land than swamp—thick, sludgy mud.

This was his five-thousand-li land?

Looking at the flooded wasteland, Zheng Fa speculated: if any mortals lived here, their lives must be miserable.

…

His spiritual form wandered his land for days, pacing and estimating—the area was immense.

In modern measurements, it spanned nearly a million square kilometers—enough to be a mid-sized nation.

But… no people.

Across this vast expanse, only a dozen human settlements existed, totaling fewer than half a million souls…

It made sense—based on his observations, 99. % of this land was unfit for human habitation, let alone agriculture.

One day, his spiritual form reached a high mountain. At its peak stood a city built into the slopes. Through the Divine Register, Zheng Fa learned its population was roughly seventy to eighty thousand—one of the largest in his domain.

The town had no walls—it was merely a cluster of dwellings.

The houses were strange: short, as if half-buried underground, with thick, sloped roofs designed to repel lightning and drain water.

Most townsfolk wore robes woven from aquatic vine-wood—thin, gaunt, their faces pale from lack of sunlight, expressions unreadable—either numb or stoic.

These vine-robes must be precious.

Men mostly went bare-chested, ribs jutting sharply.

Women had only slight coverings over their chests. Honestly, few were attractive—

they were thinner than men, many lacking clear gender features.

At the innermost edge of the town, against the cliff, stood a house with the tallest and widest roof—though "tall" meant only one and a half zhang, "wide" only three or four zhang.

It was a temple. The statue inside had lost all its paint; its features were blurred beyond recognition.

Few worshipped there, yet visitors came continuously.

They knelt, praying—but their faces showed no devotion, only mechanical ritual, or the desperate hope of a dying man clinging to life.

Zheng Fa's spiritual form drifted into the statue.

Instantly, a chorus of whispers filled his ears—all the worshippers' thoughts.

Thanks to the Divine Register, he understood their language.

"Thunder God hasn't manifested in years…"

"Please let me catch more fish today…"

"Less rain, please…"

"My son was struck by lightning—he was a good boy. Thunder God, have mercy…"

These thoughts buzzed around him, unbearable in their noise.

What chilled the god's heart even more was that they prayed but offered no sacrifices.

It seemed they had little trust in their own Thunder God.

To be honest, this attitude made it hard for a god to do his job…

But Zheng Fa, upon hearing Yan Wushuang's words, understood this was their primary method of accumulating heavenly merit: listening to believers' thoughts and judging good from evil.

Then striking down a few wicked people.

It merely required controlling the intensity of the heavenly lightning, following the rules of the Divine Enfeoffment Scroll—different evils demanded different lightning punishments.

Of course, Yan Wushuang and the others couldn't be so precise; it was pure luck—just strike enough people, and eventually some strikes would hit just right.

This was why Zheng Fa chose this city: many people meant easier accumulation of heavenly merit.

Now he understood why those cultivators with smaller fiefdoms looked so envious of him.

As for controlling clouds and rain, balancing yin and yang, promoting agriculture and sericulture—

Sorry, I can't do that!

…

Finally, night arrived.

No one came to worship here.

Only one girl remained, closing the temple door and sweeping the floor.

She then took out a black, coarse cloth and wiped the altar and the base of the deity statue.

Zheng Fa watched the girl, unable to judge her age.

Her face seemed to be around seventeen or eighteen.

But her figure looked more like thirteen or fourteen—she was alarmingly thin.

Was this his temple attendant?

Wasn't she a bit too young?

After cleaning, she put away the cloth and bowed devoutly toward Zheng Fa, murmuring:

"Thunder God, I'm about to eat your offerings! If you object, show a sign!"

Zheng Fa froze.

Then the girl added: "You agree? Thank you, Thunder God!"

Zheng Fa watched as the girl happily snatched several unfamiliar fruits from the altar and stuffed them into her mouth—these were offerings from believers, but not today's; today, no one had brought fruit.

They were her own secret stash.

"Thunder God," the girl mumbled while wolfing down the fruit, "if you don't show your power, no one will bring fruit, and I'll starve to death…"

"…"

"If I starve to death, this city won't have another soul willing to clean for you!"

As she spoke, her tone carried an air of: "Well, Thunder God, you decide."

"Hmm…"

Zheng Fa shifted his thoughts, and a solemn voice suddenly echoed through the temple.

The girl jumped in fright, staring at the statue where Zheng Fa resided.

She remembered her earlier impertinent words and turned pale with fear.

After a moment of stunned silence, she didn't stop speaking—she rapidly chewed the wild fruit.

Though she said nothing aloud, Zheng Fa heard her thought:

"Better to die full!"

Seeing no anger from Zheng Fa, the girl cautiously approached the statue, tilting her head and whispering softly: "Thunder God, are you still there?"

"…"

Zheng Fa remained silent. The girl looked puzzled, then assumed she'd imagined it.

…

After spending a month inside the Heavenly Stele World, Zheng Fa suddenly felt a force shove him—and when he came to his senses, he was outside the stele.

He walked out.

Zhang Shijie and Yuan Shijie were waiting for him where he'd entered.

Seeing him emerge, Zhang Shijie smiled faintly.

"Younger brother, how was it inside?"

Zheng Fa recounted what he'd witnessed. Zhang Shijie slowly frowned, pondering its meaning: "So this is how they pursue the Dao through thunder arts?"

Hearing Zhang Shijie's words, Zheng Fa turned to gaze at the Heavenly Stele—was this its true purpose?

"Sister, I have another idea…" Zheng Fa changed the subject.

"Hmm?"

"If others control the Heavenly Stele, fine—but if our Jiushan Sect could control it," Zheng Fa said softly, "the spiritual energy here is abundant, the rules unique…"

"You mean…" Zhang Shijie's eyes lit up.

"I think if a great tribulation ever comes and spiritual energy declines, this place could serve as our Jiushan Sect's refuge," Zheng Fa said, his eyes gleaming. He didn't know if others had such thoughts, but the more he understood the Heavenly Stele World, the more he felt that, compared to mere spiritual materials, the world itself was the greatest treasure.

Few people, yet spiritual energy isn't lacking.

Most importantly, though other techniques cannot be used, cultivation remains unimpeded.