Chapter 467

The Zhang family’s small courtyard, in the side room.

Zhang Qinggu sat before a wooden table, on which lay a rough sheet covered in tiny script; he signed his name, then carefully slipped the paper into a yellow envelope, finally writing the last line on the envelope:

【Yanling County City, Chen’s Assistant’s Residence, Servant Quarters, received by Zhang Yuchuan】

Having finished writing the recipient’s name, Zhang Qinggu exhaled sharply, recalling the entire process of answering Xia Hong’s questions in the main house; an flush of crimson crept across his aged face, his pupils brimming with excitement.

He was sixty-seven years old this year.

According to the normal lifespan of a Cold-Resisting cultivator, he still had about thirty years to live.

But that was under normal circumstances—he was a slave, born and raised in Qingwu Village, spending year after year in endless gathering, mining, hunting, and farming, with no adequate resource supply; his body had long been worn to the brink.

In his estimation, he had at most seven or eight years left.

“Twenty-eight years ago, I risked my life as bait for a Cold Beast, and with the reward, I broke through to Cold-Resisting—successfully extending my life and shedding my lowly status, entering slave status, which allowed me to build this private courtyard, marry, and father two sons;

For decades I worked diligently; my eldest son Shan Hong and youngest son Shan He grew up, married, and gave me three grandchildren—two boys and one girl;

But good fortune didn’t last. Thirteen years ago, my two sons, inspired by my story, risked their lives entering the Lu Su fields to harvest for the jurisdiction, hoping to secure a commoner status for their children; they all four perished together, leaving only me and my three grandchildren.

Now my three young grandchildren have grown up—and yet, unbelievably, heaven has shown me such favor, granting my old Zhang family another chance to turn our fate around!”

Zhang Qinggu suppressed his inner excitement, whispered these words, then turned toward the main house and continued: “If my lord takes an interest in Zhu’er and Hong’er and buys their slave status to keep them close, their futures will be secured.

Yuchuan’s talent is better than theirs; staying as a servant in a county mansion may seem prestigious, but he remains a masterless slave with no real future. Better to come back and meet this lord—if all three siblings are chosen, they’ll never again be trapped like me, wasting their lives in this slave village with no hope of escape.”

In his youth, Zhang Qinggu never accepted mediocrity—otherwise he wouldn’t have risked his life as a Cold Beast bait. He spent his entire life striving for a better fate—for himself, for his family, and even influencing his two sons.

Unfortunately, his two sons lacked his luck, and ended up both dying.

Yet even so, Zhang Qinggu never abandoned the idea of changing his fate. A year ago, he spent over five thousand taels of silver to bribe every official, exhausting every effort to send his eldest grandson to the county military office as a servant—proof enough.

Slave village residents were not supposed to own private property, but upper policies had lower workarounds, and the jurisdiction likely kept a sliver of hope alive for slaves, turning a blind eye; as long as one worked hard and honestly, saving a little silver was still possible.

But the amount, of course, could never be large.

Five thousand taels was nearly everything Zhang Qinggu had saved over his entire life, penny by penny, from his own meager meals.

Remember, his own Cold-Resisting late-stage cultivation, six-mane strength, cost only three thousand taels to shed slave status; his two granddaughters, at Digging Earth level, had even lower fees—just five hundred taels.

Logically, with this silver, he could have freed himself outright; since his strength exceeded five manes, he qualified for commoner status, needing only a small fee to shed slave status and become a normal citizen of Chen Cang.

But what good would it do him now, at his age?

A year ago, all three of his grandchildren turned fifteen, losing eligibility to inherit his status; even if they’d still qualified, he wouldn’t have chosen it.

Once granted commoner status, everything the slave village owned—including this courtyard he’d spent half his life building—would be reclaimed by the jurisdiction, and he’d be barred from living in the slave village, forced to find his own path.

What path could a frail old man of sixty or seventy, with three Digging Earth grandchildren, possibly find?

Going to the county city was one option, but the journey was long and perilous—would they even survive the trip? And without connections or strength, what kind of life could they possibly have once they arrived?

Commoners paid fifty taels monthly in taxes; if they missed three consecutive payments, their status was immediately revoked, they were reclassified as lowborn, and forced into menial labor.

Five thousand taels took Zhang Qinggu a lifetime to save; fifty taels monthly was harder than climbing to heaven for him—let alone with three grandchildren, totaling two hundred taels, utterly impossible.

Now nearing seventy, he had lost the fire of youth; he no longer hoped for his own future—but his three grandchildren were different. His eldest grandson Yuchuan was only nineteen; his two granddaughters were even younger. They were still young, with vast futures ahead.

After much deliberation, Zhang Qinggu ultimately abandoned the idea of freeing himself, deciding instead to use the five thousand taels to secure a better future for his eldest grandson.

That meant sending him to serve as a servant in the county military office.

Servants were still slaves, but compared to those living in slave villages, their living conditions and future prospects were worlds apart—especially serving in a powerful household. Even the scraps from their master’s fingernails could sustain them for life; sometimes, a single word from the master could lift them to the heavens.

His eldest grandson Zhang Yuchuan was resolute, sharp-witted, and skilled at navigating social circles; most crucially, his talent was no small thing—he broke through the Digging Earth limit at fifteen, beginning to reshape his skin with beast blood; constrained by resource shortages, his base strength reached over ninety thousand jin by seventeen, yet still hadn’t broken through.

At that moment, Zhang Qinggu knew: the Zhang family had finally produced a genius.

His eldest grandson’s battle physique was conservatively rated as upper-tier, possibly even Jipin —such astonishing talent, combined with his ambition and cunning, was the core reason Zhang Qinggu spent such a fortune to send him to a county mansion as a servant.

Over the past year and more, his eldest grandson had not disappointed him.

Every three months he sent a letter back; the latest one said he’d broken through to Cold-Resisting using his upper-tier battle physique, reaching 2.8 manes strength, and now served as a personal servant to one of the lord’s sons, promoted to first-class servant with a monthly salary of thirty taels.

Zhang Qinggu’s cultivation was weak, but his experience was vast; in his youth, he’d once dreamed of rising above his station and spent years wandering in Yanling County City, so he knew well: in a hereditary mansion like Chen’s, even servants were divided into seven ranks; first-class servants were always the personal attendants of the household’s nobles—effectively the master’s confidants. To many, this was indistinguishable from achieving greatness.

Ever since news of his eldest grandson becoming a first-class servant in the Chen household reached Qingwu Village, the jurisdiction officials treated him with far greater respect; those who once groped his two granddaughters had long since abandoned their lecherous thoughts.

“Yuchuan can continue serving in the Chen household—his future is still bright—but he remains at the mercy of his master. I’ve asked him to request leave and come back to see if fortune favors him; even if he fails, he can always return to the Chen household. That Chen family’s noble son, no matter how high his status, can never compare to this Lord Hong…”

Through the questioning in the main house, Zhang Qinggu had learned that the lord he’d accidentally encountered was named Hong Yu.

The name mattered little; what mattered was that Zhang Qinggu remembered clearly: last night, while gathering in the snow forest, Hong Yu had flown down to him through the air.

“Flight through the air—that’s the power of a Xianyang-level cultivator. Even Master Chen, the Chen Assistant, is only Xianyang-level. If we can attach ourselves to this Lord Hong, the futures of Yuchuan, Zhu’er, and Hong’er will be limitless!”

Zhang Qinggu’s face flushed with emotion; seeing daylight had broken outside, he shoved the envelope into his bosom and headed toward the village jurisdiction office.

Each jurisdiction in Chen Cang had couriers who traveled regularly based on distance; all letters had to pass through them, with fees calculated by distance—minimum three taels; urgent delivery cost extra.

Qingwu Village hadn’t sent an urgent letter in years, and Zhang Qinggu certainly couldn’t afford it; so once mailed, the letter would have to wait for the courier’s next scheduled round to slowly reach the county city.

“Today is the eighth day of the eighth month. Normally, Yuchuan won’t receive the letter until mid-October. Servants requesting leave won’t be easy—just wait patiently at home. That lord’s injuries are severe; he won’t leave anytime soon. I hope Yuchuan can return as quickly as possible.”

After sending the letter, Zhang Qinggu returned to the courtyard full of hope; he’d given the main house to the lord and moved his two granddaughters to the side cottage.

Both granddaughters were only Digging Earth level and slept during the day; he didn’t disturb them. When night fell, he immediately woke them.

“Zhu’er, Hong’er, from now on, sleep only two hours during the day; at night, wait outside Lord Hong’s chamber. Whatever he commands, you must obey without question—do you understand?”

Zhang Yuzhu and Zhang Yuhong were no longer children; they understood the implication in their grandfather’s words and blushed deeply.

“Grandfather…”

Seeing their faces flushed but their eyes showing no resistance, Zhang Qinggu paused, then recalled the lord’s true face after washing away the blood and grime—he immediately understood.

But he didn’t smile. He merely sighed inwardly and continued: “Go to him. Whether you seize this chance depends on you.”

Hearing the weight in his grandfather’s tone, the sisters nodded. Then the elder, Zhang Yuzhu, remembered something and asked softly: “Grandfather, the Lu Su harvest is coming soon. In five days, it’s our turn to work in the fields, cooking for others. What about Lord Hong…?”

“Don’t worry. I just returned from the jurisdiction—I’ve already secured leave for both of you. For the next two months, you won’t need to go.”

Hearing they wouldn’t have to go to the Lu Su fields, both girls’ faces lit up with joy.

“Your brother has made something of himself in the county city. The jurisdiction officials now dare not offend me. Getting you two leave? Easy as pie.”

Hearing their grandfather mention their brother, the girls beamed with pride. The younger, Zhang Yuhong, asked with longing: “Grandfather, Brother’s been away nearly two years. Didn’t you say last night you’d write to him, asking him to come home? When will he return to see us?”

Zhang Yuchuan was the only son of Zhang Shan Hong; Zhang Yuzhu and Zhang Yuhong were the two daughters of Zhang Shan He. Though cousins, all three had been raised by their grandfather since childhood, growing up together with a bond deeper than siblings.

Zhang Qinggu knew his youngest granddaughter always missed her brother; he’d always avoided answering this question before—but now was different.

He smiled and said: “Soon. I’ve already sent the letter to the jurisdiction. If all goes well, he’ll be home by November.”

Hearing their brother would return, the girls’ faces lit with astonishment and delight; only then, under their grandfather’s urging, did they walk toward the main house.

………………

Just as the Zhang family brimmed with hope,

In the main building of Qingwu Village, Zhang Long—the village chief and jurisdiction head—sat on the main seat, looking down at the assembled crowd, his face heavy with worry.

“This year, the Lu Su harvest in He Cang Fanzhen has failed, causing prices to rise over thirty percent. The county city has just issued orders raising this year’s Lu Su quota by twenty percent. Last year, the entire Lu River Valley delivered 260,000 jin; this year, we must deliver at least 312,000 jin. Divided among sixteen villages, each must deliver 19,500 jin—that’s the minimum.”

“Nineteen thousand five hundred jin? Are you joking? The harvest lasts only eighty days, and we can only work during daylight. Our entire village has 198 Cold-Resisting slaves—each must harvest about 100 jin, meaning at least 1.2 jin per day. Is that even possible?”

“We only have two daylight hours. Each Lu Su plant yields at most 0.2 jin. To meet quota, you must harvest six or seven plants per shift. It’s exhausting enough—but then there’s the Green Fire Poison and Black Glow Insects. Most can’t even survive it. We won’t harvest much, and half our people will die—making next year even worse.”

“Impossible. No one can do it. Not just us in Qingwu—any of the other fifteen villages that can meet this? I’ll sleep in the Lu Su field tonight.”

…………

Bam!

“Enough! Shut up! I want solutions, not complaints! Do you think I don’t know how hard this is? The county city has issued a formal order. If you have the guts, take it to the county city—yelling here does nothing!”

Seeing the crowd grow louder, all insisting it was impossible, Zhang Long slammed the table and roared to silence them.

Chen Cang’s control over slave villages wasn’t overly strict; usually, the village chief and jurisdiction head were the same person, responsible for enforcing county orders, with the primary duty being to deliver supplies to the county.

Qingwu Village lay in the Lu River Valley, which contained sixteen slave villages. The Yanling County jurisdiction had established a large camp here, stationing five thousand county soldiers, and regularly dispatched a hundred-man squad to each village, under the jurisdiction head’s command.

The village chief was always the most respected and strongest person in the village; with the title of jurisdiction head and command of a hundred-man armed squad, his authority was formidable.

So when Zhang Long roared, everyone fell silent.

Seeing them cowed and offering no useful suggestions, Zhang Long calmed himself and spoke in a low, firm tone:

“The county has ordered it—we must find a way to meet it. I just returned from the Lu River Valley camp; all village heads have agreed on a solution.

This year’s Lu Su quota cannot be met by normal harvesting methods. In extraordinary times, we must use extraordinary measures!

All villages have decided: we will harvest not only by day, but also by night—specifically, the first two hours after dark.

For the next two months, all gathering and hunting in the village will cease. We will summon every Digging Earth cultivator at their limit. With Cold-Resisting slaves leading, we’ll see if progress is possible. If not, we’ll bring in the Digging Earth cultivators themselves…”

As Zhang Long slowly revealed the plan, the faces of those in the room darkened.

The Lu Su fields were no place for leisure; harvesting Lu Su was extremely dangerous. Even last year, when only Cold-Resisting slaves were sent, the death rate exceeded twenty percent. Sending Digging Earth cultivators? This was unprecedented.

Seeing their grim expressions, Zhang Long’s heart sank—but then he remembered: if he failed, he might lose his position. He hardened his resolve, his face firming.

In this icy abyss, normal plants couldn’t grow. Lu Su—a precious crop with higher nutritional value than beast meat—had no simple aspect: from its origin, growth patterns, to harvesting, every step was difficult.

Lu Su roots were fragile and feared wind, so they could only be planted where wind was absent—or at least extremely weak. Though each plant was large, its yield was shockingly low, so small-scale planting was useless; vast fields were required. But finding a large, open, windless area in the icy abyss? Nearly impossible.