Chapter 171: The Marvels of Fengzhou

The official in charge of this mission to the demon clans would certainly not be someone like Prince Chong or Wei Li, driven by personal desires as members of the Pro-Immortal Faction.

Such people have always been unreliable.

According to Kuangcheng, these officials had all been expelled from court by the Pro-Immortal Faction in the past, subjected to relentless suppression, and later recalled due to the new policies.

Among them was one named Wang Mingchang, his head full of white hair, already in the twilight of his life.

Thirty years ago, he was still the Governor of Yunzhou, but because he opposed the tax system that left his domain littered with corpses, he repeatedly submitted memorials—until he was dismissed; on his return home, his right leg was broken by assailants, and he endured thirty years of pain and fury.

There were many such officials in the delegation.

Like Ji You's earlier words, "Since ancient times, who escapes death? Let loyalty illuminate the annals," they were fearless of death, some having long since lost all hope.

In Shengjing, rumors of Ji You were common; though these envoys were mortals, they had all heard a few tales.

Yet from their perspective, scrutinizing a cultivator, trust was hard to generate.

For in their hearts, cultivators were all cut from the same cloth—a deeply rooted belief forged by a thousand years of Qingyun's order.

At this moment, amidst clinking cups and mingled laughter, the bright moon watched as the Grand Prosperity City hosted a grand banquet.

On the flower pavilions and jade halls of the aristocratic clans, the heavenly prodigies of the immortal sects still wore their usual detached, unblemished expressions, yet they were deeply satisfied by Yunzhou's lavish hospitality.

After all, Yunzhou's aristocratic clans built their wealth on spirit stone production, and their guest rituals were endlessly inventive, far surpassing those of the other nine provinces.

Beyond exotic, arcane delicacies, even their music and dance were refreshingly novel.

Thus they drank and toasted until dawn, then drifted away.

The three southern sects returned earlier and found the others already eating morning meal at the inn, followed by the northern prodigies arriving in succession.

The delegation then continued onward, as planned, detouring toward the northwest of Fengzhou, where a sense of barrenness immediately struck them.

There were no towering cities, no pavilions with upturned eaves—only mud huts and thatched cottages, their courtyards built from bundles of stacked dry branches, more accurately called fences.

The stark contrast in wealth between neighboring regions delivered a powerful shock.

"Yunzhou's rich mineral deposits have secured its vital status among the Nine Provinces—it's a gift from heaven. Compared to it, Fengzhou is truly expendable."

"Indeed, yesterday's spirit wine was exceptional—even I rarely encounter such quality."

Jiang Yan of Wenda Clan, Jiang Yuerou of Shanhai Pavilion, and Yan Qiubai of Lingjian Mountain rode together in the same carriage, discussing among themselves.

Cultivators emphasize detachment from worldly things, calmness and naturalness—but they were still women.

Upon seeing something new, they couldn't help but offer sharp commentary.

Jiang Yan now pulled a spirit stone from her sleeve, activated her spiritual sense, and felt a rich, refined stream of spiritual energy flood into her body: "Though things from their origin are always better, this quality of spirit stone must be extremely valuable—Yunzhou's aristocrats truly are generous."

Yan Qiubai chuckled lightly: "Isn't it more than that? At Wang's banquet yesterday, the Wang family's heir seemed quite taken with you, Sister Yan."

Jiang Yan lifted her lips: "Average realm, average looks—he dares to dream."

"Does your family not pressure you about finding a cultivation partner?"

"I've been asked, but I have standards for appearance—after all, during dual-cultivation, you must find the sight tolerable; otherwise, how could you possibly feel any interest?"

Continuous reproduction is the main theme of aristocratic development—a duty even aristocratic offspring must fulfill.

Whether forming alliances or bearing more talented offspring, it's a serious obligation for both men and women.

Jiang Yuerou spoke up: "I recall there's one in the caravan with exceptionally good looks."

"Who?"

"That Qi-Xuan cultivator—seems his name is Ji You. I've been in seclusion too long; I only learned his name last night from their chatter."

Yan Qiubai instantly remembered the Qi-Xuan cultivator: "Ah, him—I glanced at him several times before departure; he's indeed impressive."

Jiang Yan looked at the two: "If his looks are good, I might be interested—but when have you ever heard of a Ji family among the myriad clans of Qingyun?"

"?"

"Do you mean he's a quota-entry disciple?"

Jiang Yan nodded: "Likely so."

Yan Qiubai opened her mouth: "A quota-entry disciple reaching the Upper Five Realms? His talent must be decent."

"But Qi-Xuan is merely the first level of the Upper Five Realms—still weak. If he were an aristocrat, we might consider him—but a quota-entry disciple holds no real value. You can't judge him just by looks—that would make him no different from common mortal women."

Amid their chatter, Jiang Yuerou suddenly noticed something strange outside the window, turned her head, and after a long moment spoke: "Look—something odd."

Jiang Yan and Yan Qiubai paused, turned, and saw what Jiang Yuerou meant.

For they were now traveling along the border between Yunzhou and Fengzhou, and saw countless wooden stakes lashed together into barricades stretching endlessly—every path, even the roughest dirt trails, was blocked.

As they watched, they suddenly noticed a group of ragged mortals moving from west to east along a low mountain on the Yunzhou-Fengzhou border.

Strong men led the way, accompanied by children and women, their faces filled with fear.

"What are they… doing?"

"Fleeing…?"

Immortals on the mountains rarely cared for the mortal world below—especially prodigies like them, who spent years in seclusion.

Some officials in the carriages also witnessed this scene, and saw how, after crossing the mountain, the mortals suddenly seemed to shed their burdens, raising pale faces toward the rising red sun.

This was the visible difference between Yunzhou and Fengzhou civilians.

Fengzhou peasants worked the soil, their skin uniformly dark; Yunzhou peasants were trapped for years in mines, never seeing the sun.

And such curious scenes were not rare along the road.

For example, other refugees attempting to cross were captured by Yunzhou authorities.

Another group of refugees were chased by government runners, but managed to slip into Fengzhou territory before being caught.

Though furious, the runners' expressions seemed tinged with envy as they watched the ragged figures walk farther into the barren land, then turned away.

Another puzzling scene involved cultivators—they witnessed it while passing a village.

Beneath a willow tree outside the village, a Ninghua cultivator used spiritual energy to drive a thick black iron drill, stabbing it fiercely into the ground.

As the drill sank deeper, its spiraling edges flung vast amounts of soil to the surface.

After a few breaths, the man collapsed from exhaustion, and another immediately took his place, drilling downward.

Soon, what was pulled up was mud slurry.

Seeing this, the surrounding farmers knelt, forehead slamming against the earth, pounding it with loud thuds.

Ji You watched for a long while, then murmured: "Terrifying—it's the combination of the demonic drill artifact and sword art for excavation."

Kuangcheng's lips twitched: "Isn't that just… digging a well…?"

"That's its folk name—commoners say it that way. Immortals never speak like that. I recently had the Fengzhou government survey unopened but fertile land, and planned to switch to triple-crop cultivation—irrigation is critical. They're truly fortunate."

"So that's why they're digging wells."

"Look—these cultivators know they'll never ascend. But because they possess some cultivation, their distractions and desires exceed those of mortals. They need more external things to fill the emptiness within—hence why abbots are combative and disciples troublesome."

Ji You gazed calmly out the window: "But these external things cannot come at the cost of the people's food and coin. So we must provide them emotional value."

Kuangcheng stared out the window for a long while, then asked: "What is emotional value?"

"Greed and vanity are neither higher nor lower—they both satisfy. Material things satisfy greed; praise satisfies vanity. We won't give them tax relief—we'll give them applause."

Ji You murmured: "The so-called direct disciples stand above all, looking down on the world—but I doubt any of them are praised as much as these men. Remember, they were once the discarded scraps of this world."

Kuangcheng pressed his lips: "So Fengzhou will focus entirely on agriculture?"

"Fengzhou doesn't have spirit stone resources like Yunzhou. This is the only option now. If the people fare better, I earn more. The immortal estate heirs feel satisfied too. Let's stabilize first, then consider industrial upgrades later."

"Can it be upgraded further?"

Ji You turned to look at him: "Build high walls, stockpile grain, sustain growth, then expand your customer base—farming can't compete with raiding."

At that moment, as the carriage passed the second village, a cultivator used spiritual energy to manipulate straw, patching broken rooftops.

Yunzhou and Zhongzhou border Fengzhou; though the government secretly forbade civilian flight, after months of trial, some smuggling routes had been established.

These refugees needed somewhere to shelter from wind and rain.

Kuangcheng watched for a long while: "What sword art is this…?"

Ji You shook his head gently: "It's not sword art anymore—it's a technique. Called 'Straw to Roof.' That's what they call it out here—after all, dignity is something you give yourself."

The caravan now halted before the next village, having traveled northeast along Fengzhou.

Cultivators need not eat, but the envoys would not survive to the destination without food.

Jiang Yan, Yan Qiubai, and Jiang Yuerou stepped down from the carriage. Having just discussed Ji You, they turned instinctively to glance back at the man—the handsome, dangerous figure.

But then, a dragging footstep drew their attention.

They turned and saw the elderly officials climbing down from their carriages, turning toward the rear.

Like the cultivators, they had witnessed the refugees fleeing to Fengzhou, the joint excavation, the straw-to-roof technique—and had remained silent all day. Now, they raised their hands in unison, bowing deeply, all fifty of them.

Aristocrats become cultivators; only the poor choose to become officials.

Beyond their titles, they too had once been the lowest of the low in this world.

Jiang Yan froze slightly, then turned to look behind—realizing they were bowing to Ji You. The other prodigies, too, turned to stare.

Emotional value was terrifying—it could make one forget they were professional bandits.

If Cao Jingsong were here, his chest would surely explode.

Ji You gave them a slight nod, then turned away, walking off like a lone, proud swordsman gazing across the vast expanse of Fengzhou.

"Ji You?"

"You mean that prodigy with unmatched talent, peerless sword art, the celestial disciple of Tianshu Academy?"

"No—he's not a quota-entry disciple."

Among the southern sects, only Gongshu Chou had not entered deep seclusion recently.

He now sat beside his carriage, exuding an air of profound mystery, speaking slowly to his junior sister Yan Qiubai…

Jiang Yan stood beneath the temporary tea pavilion, pondering what she had seen, when she noticed Yan Qiubai returning from afar, whispering urgently with Jiang Yuerou.

Jiang Yan walked over: "What are you discussing so passionately? Have you forgotten your Dao heart must be as still as still water?"

Yan Qiubai looked up at her: "Sister Jiang Yan—I've confirmed it. Ji You is not a quota-entry disciple."

"Among the great families of Qingyun Tianxia, is there truly a Ji family?"

"No, he's actually a rural self-cultivator…"

"???"

Jiang Yan blinked in surprise, and only after a long while did she react: "Self-cultivation is a capital offense—how could he possibly enter an immortal sect?"

Yan Qiubai blinked: "They say when he was discovered, he was still under twenty, yet he had already reached the peak of the lower three realms."

"?!"

Yan Qiubai recounted to him everything he'd heard from Gongshu Chou: that a Tian Shuyuan instructor had gone to recruit students and seen spiritual energy surging into the clouds.

Jiang Yan, born into a great family, had undergone cultivation in the lower three realms and witnessed her family's young children being guided by elders to awaken their spiritual sense.

Children's minds are unstable; some of the duller ones remain stuck at the awakening stage for years, unable to even faintly illuminate their spiritual core, requiring elixirs and spirit stones to assist.

Even among great families with limitless resources and countless elixirs, reaching the peak of the lower three realms is by no means easy.

So when she heard Yan Qiubai say this, Jiang Yan found it utterly unbelievable.

He had somehow, through self-cultivation alone, reached a level worthy of special admission to the academy.

Such a tale was one she had only ever heard in folk operas.

Jiang Yan stared in astonishment for a long while, then finally regained her composure: "So he's a rural self-cultivator? Then he's even worse than someone who entered through a quota—quota entrants at least come from official or military families, but a rural self-cultivator has no such background at all."

Yan Qiubai opened his mouth: "But he has a family."

"Didn't you just say he's a rural self-cultivator?"

"This Ji You is from Fengzhou—right here. Not long ago, he entered the Inner Court and established his own family here, and he slashed Fengzhou's annual tribute to one-tenth. That's why people from Yunzhou and Zhongzhou flood here daily—what we saw on our journey…"

Fengzhou is barren, with no great family—that's common knowledge.

But it's also common knowledge that foreign immortal estates have set up shop in Fengzhou, collecting tribute.

Jiang Yan frowned: "If he established a local family and seized control of the tribute, why didn't the foreign immortal estates stop him?"

"They tried. Then he killed eighteen Tongxuan and cut down one Rongdao, walking into Fengzhou's government office with a pile of severed heads, drenched in blood…"

"?!"

Jiang Yan stared at him blankly, thinking: Are you even aware of what you're saying?

Sitting alone in deep mountains, meditating to comprehend the Dao—this is something we've all done since childhood.

Sometimes for a year, sometimes three or five seasons. Though each time we emerged, we'd hear some new tales, never anything as absurd as today's.

A rural self-cultivator entering the academy was tolerable, but killing countless peers of his own realm—and crossing realms to slay a higher one—was utterly beyond belief.

Not only was crossing realms to kill unthinkable, but Ji You's appearance was clearly that of a harmless scholar—how could he be such a ruthless man?

Yet seeing no trace of jest in Yan Qiubai's expression, Jiang Yan turned to look at the figure beside the carriage.

Jiang Yuerou looked up: "I remember now—when I briefly emerged from seclusion a year ago, I heard rumors among disciples about a rural self-cultivator entering Tian Shuyuan. It was him."

Yan Qiubai nodded.

"Wait—Chu He, the second son of the Chu family, also entered Tian Shuyuan that same year. He has the Seven-Hole Linglong Body, naturally attuned to the Dao. Even Chu Xian was a direct disciple of the Xuan Yuan Immortal Mansion—how could Ji You have been the one admitted to the Inner Court?"

"During Tian Shuyuan's Autumn Duel, Chu He fought him once—both his hands were severed."

"..."

Some people look unimpressive, but sound terrifying.

Like someone who looks unimpressive in clothes—but terrifying when stripped bare.

Judging by Yan Qiubai's tale, the fair-faced man had fought his way upward, shattering every obstacle.

As Gongshu Chou generously explained, Jiang Chenfeng, Huo Hong, and others had also heard whispers, their brows furrowing.

Only Xie Chenyu, Chu Butian, Qian Jun, and Tian Shuyuan's Shi Junhao and Xiao Hanyan showed no reaction.

In the early Taiyuan era, they hadn't undergone long seclusion—especially the latter two, who had nearly watched Ji You storm into the Inner Court.

But no one mentioned the matter of hereditary physical constitution transmission—mainly because Gongshu Chou had never spoken of it.

After the Tian Shuyuan Autumn Duel, he had been summoned to the Cloud Peak Heavenly Palace by the Master of Reflection. When he descended the mountain, Ding Yao had specifically warned him about this.

Though unaware of the reason, Gongshu Chou had solved it himself.

Ding Yao must have had designs on Ji You—she wanted to transmit her heritage to him personally; otherwise, why would she have avoided the Master of Reflection and given him this private instruction?

"Cutting down a Rongdao with a Tongxuan sword—this sounds impressive, but it's not worth boasting about."

Jiang Chenfeng lifted his teacup: "Those immortal estate Rongdao cultivators all forced their way into the realm through elixirs. Their bodies are aged, their foundations full of water—it's not true cross-realm killing. I'm not surprised at all."

Jiang Yan looked at her cousin: "Rongdao is still superior to Tongxuan."

"Perhaps you don't know—I once defeated a Rongdao senior brother of our sect while still in Tongxuan."

"Really?"

"Sister, you've been in long seclusion and rarely fight. You don't realize that among us, some so-called Rongdao are merely stronger Tongxuan Upper Realm cultivators. Achieving realm through years of forced endurance is a pitiful thing."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a thunderous boom erupted from the northwest, like lightning splitting the sky.

In an instant, a vast surge of energy surged upward like a dragon breaking free, roaring into the heavens and piercing through ten thousand li of clouds in an instant.

Then, flickering flames shot skyward, painting half the horizon a brilliant crimson—magnificent and awe-inspiring.

At this sight, the earlier discussion about Ji You ended abruptly.

Everyone raised their heads—even the envoys set down their chopsticks, their expressions instantly grave.

The source of the blast was Han Tie Pass in the northern frontier.

Ji You turned to Kuangcheng: "You stay here. Head southwest—but never approach Han Tie Pass. If things turn bad, run."

"Brother Ji…"

"I'll keep myself safe and try to return safely from the Snowlands. Remember to save your silver—apparently the barbarians have no good food. I'll be starving when I get back."

Kuangcheng stepped back, bowed deeply: "Brother Ji, may you travel safely."

Ji You nodded slightly, then rose and boarded the carriage.

The magical artifacts embedded in the carriage continuously released vast energy; the horses instantly grew frenzied, neighing loudly as their hooves kicked up dust, racing toward the frontier pass.

As time passed, the group finally reached the frontier.

Before them rose a towering, jet-black wall stretching to the heavens—like a slumbering beast, radiating endless oppression.

This was no wall built by ordinary men. It was erected by ancient sages, wielding the power of the entire world, after the fall of the primordial clans. Its endless stretch formed an impassable celestial barrier, isolating other races from Jiuzhou for over a thousand years.

Before the carriage even reached the base of the wall, over a dozen spiritual energies shot upward like released arrows, soaring toward the battlements.

Ji You followed closely, his immortal robe flapping in the howling wind. Long after, atop Luoyue Pass, he felt a biting cold wind strike his face.

Gazing downward, he saw endless mist shrouding everything, beneath which lay an abyss of impenetrable darkness.

On the western side of Luoyue Pass, smoke and fire blazed, the clamor of battle raging.

Seeing this, Ji You's expression grew grim.

For this journey into barbarian lands, it was best to avoid any barbarian cavalry. That's why the Immortal Surveillance Office had chosen a day when the barbarians had temporarily ceased hostilities—hoping they could slip across the border unnoticed.

Even if they encountered barbarians, at least it wouldn't be fatal.

But no one expected the barbarians to attack again so swiftly from the Ten Thousand Mountains.

This meant that if they crossed the border now, they'd likely be caught in the war—and possibly even encounter barbarian armies.

The silver spent was never wasted—the longevity peaches bought from the Office of Affairs were worth every tael—this was truly a mission that might cost them their lives.

Ji You felt the powerful aura from afar; his sword intent began to stir.

You can wait for rain to stop, wait for the wind to die—but humanity has little time left.

The barbarians' stance remains unclear: they've neither refused the barbarian envoy's journey to the Snowlands nor rejected the human envoy's northern visit—meaning they're hesitating.

Why hesitate? What do they want? Ji You didn't know—no one could fathom the mind of the Barbarian Emperor.

But one thing was certain: alliance or non-alliance rested on a single thought.

Ji You turned his head, gazing through the fierce western wind at the barren land behind him, then stepped down onto the wall's base.

At that moment, all the envoys, the barbarian escorts returning north, and the cultivators who hadn't climbed the wall dismounted. Seeing him approach, their eyes filled with questions.

"What's happening outside?"

"Nothing's happened. It's safe. We can depart immediately."

The group looked up at the burning clouds, silent for a long while.

(End of Chapter)