Chapter 437

The name “Changqing Valley” is something most people simply cannot understand.

A valley typically refers to a low, narrow area between two mountains, such as Daxia’s Double Dragon Valley, Hanqiong’s Gourd Valley, or Jinshan Town’s Yinhe Valley.

Strictly speaking, Yinhe Valley is somewhat misnamed—it lies in a lowland of Mao’ao Mountain, yet its east-west width reaches thirty kilometers; unless viewed from high above, its valley topography is nearly impossible to discern.

Changqing Valley is even more extreme.

Its average east-west width is at least forty kilometers; even though it stretches over two hundred kilometers from north to south, calling it a “valley” is barely justifiable.

The word “valley” is misleading, but the term “Changqing” carries real meaning.

Affected by the Shigu Dao winds, snowflakes and cold air above the valley are blown away before they touch the ground, and due to the low-lying terrain, the valley’s temperature is two to three percent higher than the outside.

A two-to-three-percent rise in temperature may mean little to humans, but it makes a vast difference to vegetation.

With no snow accumulation and this two-to-three-percent temperature increase, the trees within the valley grow abnormally tall and massive, especially producing a kind of lush, green giant tree; anyone flying overhead would notice that, compared to the snow-covered outside, green dominates the valley’s landscape.

That is the origin of the name “Changqing”!

Given such a vast terrain, the valley cannot possibly be flat—it contains many individual mountains, some reaching two or three thousand meters in height, comparable to Double Dragon Mountain.

These mountains are not connected into ranges; most stand alone, naturally becoming the gathering and hunting grounds for the valley’s human inhabitants.

Thud…………

Six kilometers north of Shigu Dao, in a dense forest, an eight-meter-long, fearsome-looking brown bear-like cold beast collapsed with a crash; two iron arrows pierced its eyes, and crimson blood gushed steadily from its vulnerable neck and armpits.

“Got it!”

A young man in gray cotton clothing, wielding a long knife, leapt onto the bear’s head, confirmed its life had fully ended, and couldn’t help shouting triumphantly, his face flushed with excitement.

The young man was none other than Su Zhi, the third of the Su family’s four siblings.

"A mid-grade Yellow Armor Bear—its strength is roughly 1.5 zong. Third brother can now hunt one alone!"

Two men and a woman suddenly leapt down from a nearby tree—Su Jing, the eldest; Su Xu, the second; and the youngest, Su Xinger.

Each held a powerful bow; clearly, they were the ones who shot out the bear’s eyes.

“Third brother just broke through and he’s already this strong—I need to break through too!”

Su Xinger, delighted, slung her long bow over her back and quickly pulled out several leather bags, rushing to the bear’s wounds to collect its blood.

Su Jing glanced at his sister and asked softly, “Fourth, you’re only two thousand jin short of a top-grade battle body—really no hope left?”

Su Xu and Su Zhi turned to look at Su Xinger at once, their faces filled with anticipation.

Facing their three brothers’ expectant gazes, Su Xinger felt heavy pressure, but after a moment’s thought, she answered quietly, “Even high-grade beast blood no longer works—I’ve probably reached my limit.”

Upon hearing this, the three brothers’ faces darkened with regret.

“Top-grade battle body qualification, once certified by the jurisdictional office, grants direct entry into the commoner register; once strength is reached, transitioning to military register is easy; if you can find a powerful patron, ascending to noble register isn’t impossible.”

Hearing his second brother’s words, Su Jing and the others’ regret deepened; they nodded and sighed softly.

“I once heard our leader say that anyone who enters military register lives in the county seat; of Changqing Valley’s 1.2 million people, fewer than three hundred hold military register; those with commoner register number only five thousand or so, mostly the core members of each village.”

After speaking, Su Jing sighed faintly.

Cai Qiu’s governance strictly follows the household registration system.

First, all residents are divided into six tiers: hereditary, noble, military, commoner, slave, and lowly; then, for each tier, regulations are meticulously laid out—from daily life, clothing, food, housing, and movement zones, to occupations, rituals, and conduct—no one may overstep; finally, all registration records are managed uniformly by local jurisdictional offices, and any upgrade, demotion, or deletion of status must pass through their hands.

For everyone living within Cai Qiu’s territory, household registration is the most critical matter—it is not only proof of identity but also the absolute rule governing all behavior; violating it is a grave crime.

Besides the six tiers, there is another unranked category: livestock register, which includes Su Jing and his three siblings, the 1.2 million people living in Changqing Valley.

From the very term “livestock register,” it’s clear Cai Qiu’s fiefdom barely considers them human; aside from annual tribute collection or occasional charity-driven missions to recruit servants and laborers, they are otherwise ignored.

Not entirely—when Shigu Dao needs bodies to sacrifice, they are still remembered.

Thinking of this, Su Jing wore a self-deprecating smile.

He remembered clearly: three years ago, his family of six was one step away from gaining commoner status—his father had already reached 5 zong strength, meeting the requirement, but because he needed to enroll his wife and all four children together, an extra fee of thirteen thousand taels was required, so they never made it.

Precisely because they needed to raise that sum, his parents took desperate risks, increasing hunting frequency, and ultimately perished outside.

“Big brother, do you think Master Hongyu will keep us with him forever?”

Su Jing was abruptly interrupted; he turned to see Su Xinger’s hopeful face and couldn’t bear to crush her hope—he nodded and smiled, “Of course he will. It’s been over four months—he’s given us so many precious things, taught us fist and knife techniques, even taught you swordplay. He treats us this well—he’ll surely keep us.”

“I knew it—Master Hongyu is the best!”

Hearing this, Su Xinger beamed, her eyes crinkling into crescents; not just her, Su Xu and Su Zhi also broke into smiles.

More than four months had passed since they were rescued at the mouth of Shigu Dao.

These past four months with Xia Hong felt like falling into paradise; looking back, that high-grade Crimson Mane Tiger from four months ago was merely the beginning.

High-grade beast meat, beast blood, fine salt, Blood Spirit Pills, Blood Essence Pills, Yang Essence Pills, Golden Wound Pills… Xia Hong wasn’t just powerful—he’d casually return with high-grade cold beasts, and his small yellow satchel seemed to hold endless precious cultivation resources, pulling out something new to give them every so often, sending their cultivation progress skyrocketing at a rate of a thousand li per day.

Material resources were secondary; the key was Xia Hong’s attitude toward them, which had improved vastly since the beginning—he not only guided their cultivation and taught them a profound fist technique, but even tailored a martial scripture to each of their unique traits.

Half a month ago, Su Jing, with over 100,000 jin of base strength, was the first to break through to Cold-Resistant Level; then came second brother Su Xu with 110,000 jin; just two days ago, third brother Su Zhi reached his skin membrane’s limit and broke through smoothly with over 100,000 jin of base strength.

These past four months with Xia Hong, they often felt a false sense of happiness—as if everything had returned to three years ago, before their parents died, and they had found a new, solid pillar.

Life’s dramatic ups and downs are so absurd: one moment they were nearly thrown into Shigu Dao to die by the county guard troops, the next they were living a life they’d never imagined—rich in both material comfort and emotional warmth.

Their feelings toward Xia Hong had gradually shifted from initial fear and dread, to reverence and admiration, and now to deep dependence.

That’s precisely why Su Xinger had asked that question.

Tonight’s outing was meant to test Su Zhi’s strength after his breakthrough; now that it was confirmed, the four packed up their kill and immediately set off back.

Su Jing carried the kill with his two brothers; after walking a short while, he turned to his sister Su Xinger and said, “Master has been leaving more frequently these past few days—he’s likely recovered enough and is now scouting routes. Xinger, if you’re certain you’ve hit your limit, hurry and break through—I suspect we’ll be leaving soon.”

“Understood, big brother!”

Upon hearing this, Su Xinger nodded firmly.

More than four months ago, Xia Hong had told them in front of everyone he was heading to Linchu County and urged them to break through to Cold-Resistant Level quickly, not to waste his time.

“I’ll attempt my breakthrough tonight—I won’t delay Master’s plans!”

Su Xinger rallied herself internally and quickened her pace.

“There’s fire in the cave—Master’s back!”

Their hunting ground was less than ten kilometers from the cave; they arrived quickly.

It was nighttime; seeing the campfire inside, they knew Xia Hong had returned, and their faces lit up with smiles as they hurried forward.

But as they entered the cave entrance, their expressions froze.

By the fire, Xia Hong was draining blood from a small green snake.

The green snake was no thicker than a thumb, its skin translucent and glossy, less than a meter long, yet the blood it bled filled an entire wooden basin—easily over a hundred jin; and the exposed bones beneath its incision were pure gold…

“Master, is this little snake a powerful high-grade cold beast?”

Xia Hong, still draining blood, looked up at Su Xinger’s curious face, playfully decided to tease her, nodded, and handed the snake over.

Though young, Su Xinger had hunted for years and wasn’t afraid of a small snake; she reached out her right hand to catch it.

But the moment she touched it, she stumbled and fell flat on her back; when she looked up at Xia Hong, her face instantly crumpled into a grimace.

“Hahaha! This is a Beast King-grade Azure Jade Teng Snake—looks tiny, but its blood alone weighs seventy to eighty thousand jin. You dare catch it with one hand?”

Xia Hong burst into laughter, then reached out and took the snake back.

“Beast King!”

Su Xinger scrambled to her feet, brushed off her backside, and rushed to Xia Hong’s side, eyes wide with wonder and shock.

Not just her—the three brothers, having just set down the Yellow Armor Bear, also froze, then hurried over.

The four siblings had never seen, nor even heard of, a Beast King; yet even from the term alone, they grasped its meaning roughly.

“Master, can we eat this little snake tonight?”

Xia Hong turned to Su Xinger, seeing her gaze fixed on the Azure Jade Teng Snake with hungry anticipation, couldn’t help smiling: “Go ahead and eat some—but you can’t eat much. Cut out one-fifth; we five share it.”

“Wow, Master, you’re the best!”

Su Xinger leapt with joy, nearly clapping her hands.

Xia Hong turned to Su Jing and the two brothers, noticing their faces filled with gratitude—they were clearly about to bow in thanks—so he waved his hand dismissively: “Enough, go get ready.”

People are often a bit fickle—Xia Hong was no exception.

As Lord of Daxia, he’d experienced too much gratitude, fanaticism, and reverence in Xiacheng; he was utterly accustomed to it, so while he understood Su Jing and the brothers’ constant displays, he’d grown somewhat immune.

But Su Xinger—being young, lively, and innocent—after four months together, showed him almost no fear; she constantly asked questions, occasionally teased him playfully; this kind of interaction, neither disrespectful nor overly formal, yet natural and relaxed, combined with her unintentional dependence, reminded him faintly of his daughter, Yu Yao.

Su Xinger was only fifteen, just over eight years older than his daughter Xia Yu Yao; loving the child, he naturally felt more fondness for her than for the ever-respectful Su Jing and his brothers.

“One hundred and twenty-eight days—today should be the fourth day of the first month in the tenth year of Daxia, exactly Cold Origin Festival. Haven’t been home in half a year—those two little ones must miss me.”

Indeed, this was the first time Xia Hong had been away from Xiacheng for over half a year; though he wasn’t yet homesick, he couldn’t help feeling a quiet longing for his twin six-year-old children.