Chapter 203: Private Cultivation

Because cultivators were involved, the joint reclamation progressed extremely rapidly.

Under the control of roaring spiritual energy, the nine-tooth iron plow raced across the vast land like a storm, leaving behind rolling waves of soil; the fresh scent of earth instantly spread, and new dirt rained down in all directions.

The officials of Fengzhou Prefecture methodically surveyed and registered the reclaimed land, then allocated portions to many incoming civilians, providing them with the high-quality seeds selected last autumn and teaching them how to farm.

Thus, Fengzhou saw many strange scenes: cultivators plowing ahead while civilians followed closely behind them, sowing seeds; spiritual energy howled all around, boundless and vast.

At this moment, a group of men with piercing, hook-like gazes arrived from Fengzhou's border, dusty and weary, walking while staring, their faces coated in soil, drawing swords and looking around, filled with confusion.

What they saw here was a sight they had never witnessed in their entire lives.

"Big Brother Tie Xiong, I'm going back to the mountains. If my parents had been born in Fengzhou, they wouldn't have been driven to death, and I wouldn't have fled to the hills."

"Nonsense! Come back here!"

"That's right, Uncle Ba, we've come all this way—why go back now?"

"Big Brother…"

"Uncle Ba, listen to your second brother—Big Brother's right. Yes, it's wonderful… but think of our children. Do you really want them to spend their whole lives hiding from us, constantly fearing pursuit by immortal sects and the imperial court?"

"Enough arguing. Let's find an inn first. I'll go scout the situation, then we'll discuss our next plan and act."

Tie Xiong's eyes flashed with menace as he silenced Ba Bo, then led the group toward the city—but before they reached the inn, they suddenly saw a row of vermilion slogans written on the opposite wall.

【Born between heaven and earth, I must leave some story for future generations to see】

After a long silence, Tie Xiong lifted his robe hem, drew a long blade with a clang from his lower back, and glanced at his brothers behind him…

With the rising and setting of the sun, Fengzhou's farmland expanded continuously, spreading outward like a rolling scroll.

After daily labor, every government office across Fengzhou prepared large cauldrons of stew in the grain fields.

Pigs and sheep were slaughtered and slow-simmered outdoors, their fragrance drifting in the evening breeze.

Some cultivators often muttered that eating such mundane food would stall their cultivation and harm the clarity of their Dao heart, since appetite was also a desire.

But after each complaint, they'd immediately add: "Just make sure to save me a lamb leg."

In the days before Start of Spring, the joint reclamation was nearly complete; iron cauldrons were set up again on Fengzhou's grain fields, countless ingredients boiling in the broth, releasing rich aromas that drifted through the soft evening breeze, making everyone's mouths water.

"Give me a lamb leg."

"I'm terribly sorry, the lamb legs are gone. Would you like ribs instead?"

"What's wrong with you? Everyone here knows I love lamb legs best—aren't you new here?"

"I am new."

"What's your name?"

"Tie Xiong."

"Hmm, your lamb stew really is delicious."

"Family recipe, but I haven't made it in years—tastes about seventy or eighty percent like before."

"Hey, Brother Tie Xiong, you're too modest. But next time, remember to save me a lamb leg!"

Zhao Ermin was adding water to the pot and couldn't help glancing up at Tie Xiong: "Big Brother, weren't we supposed to come here to gather intelligence?"

Tie Xiong stirred the broth, looking at him: "We're gathering intelligence—didn't we just find work?"

Zhao Ermin's mouth twitched: "This morning I saw you sharpening your blade—I thought you'd turned cold-hearted, that you'd come to Fengzhou determined to strike."

"Those officials carry spirit weapons—they know private cultivators are coming. Yet they still let us pass. That man intends to shelter private cultivators. After all these years hiding in the mountains, living like a real person isn't bad."

"Strange—sheltering private cultivators is a grave crime in Daya."

Tie Xiong stopped stirring: "Those slogans in the city are meant for us. If war truly comes, that man wants us to leave behind stories for future generations."

Zhao Ermin fell silent for a long while, thinking the logic made sense—but perhaps Big Brother was overthinking. Before he could speak, he felt a sudden weight at his feet and looked down to see a small child.

After a long silence, he opened his mouth wide, his eyes flickering with joy.

In the direction the child had run from, Ba Bo—who hadn't been seen for days—was now walking toward them.

He'd assumed Ba Bo didn't want to fight and had left on his own—but now he saw Ba Bo was followed by over a dozen children and several women and elders, standing in the night, watching him.

Qiu Zhong was also in the open field, walking with Kuangcheng, watching three or four small children running around the grain field, lost in thought.

Since Young Master established his lineage in Fengzhou, many children now dared to walk the streets even where cultivators appeared; this year, no child had starved to death at home.

But what of Young Master's bloodline?

The Ji family now has only Young Master left. He worries about everything here and there, yet never mentions continuing the family line.

A loyal servant must not only manage household affairs but also worry about the master's lineage.

Though news from Fengzhou travels slowly, Qiu Zhong had heard rumors that several noble ladies had taken a fancy to Young Master—and that he'd chosen none of them. This weighed heavily on Qiu Zhong's heart.

At this moment, he couldn't help turning to Kuangcheng: "Young Master Kuang, you're Young Master Ji's closest friend—you must know something. Old Qiu wants to ask: does Young Master Ji dislike women?"

"Uncle Qiu, don't worry too much. Young Master Ji already has someone in his harem—he went to Shengjing during Xin Yuan, and I've met her."

Qiu Zhong opened his mouth: "Which family's daughter? Why hasn't he brought her home?"

Kuangcheng lowered his voice: "A woman from the Three Families."

"?"

"And another who's been lost outside."

"How could there be someone lost outside? Young Master really should bring her back and give her a proper title!"

"Probably hard to bring back…"

Qiu Zhong froze: "Is she far away?"

Kuangcheng nodded. He thought: You're right—your mistress really is farther and farther away.

Thinking of this, his gaze drifted to the southern edge of the open grain field.

In the dim night, several demon merchants stood at the edge, observing this place, whispering among themselves, then walking away while pulling out paper and ink to scribble furiously.

Qiu Zhong saw them too, frowning slightly.

Ever since he learned Young Master had gone to the Snow Region and nearly lost both hands upon returning, he'd held deep distrust toward demons.

But the Spirit Supervision had rerouted the path here—no matter how much he disliked them, they couldn't deny them passage.

Yet for some reason, demons had recently taken great interest in Fengzhou, appearing everywhere, polite to people—but their vertical pupils always looked uncanny.

Kuangcheng now turned to Qiu Zhong: "Where did Young Master Ji go today?"

Qiu Zhong snapped back: "Several lords of immortal estates came to call today; Young Master received them at the estate. A few days ago, he led people to paint slogans—these past few days have worn him out."

"For Fengzhou's sake."

"But if war truly breaks out, won't all Young Master's efforts be in vain?"

"Just send your Young Master away."

"?"

Ji You was now in the Ji Clan's reception hall, seated before the lords of the Ju Guang, Tian Yan, and Dong Sheng immortal estates, along with their accompanying patrons and elders.

Facing the old men and women's anxious questions about elixirs, he smiled faintly, with a look that said, "You know, but don't tell anyone," making them glow with delight.

Noble birth is a blessing, but also a chain.

After being marginalized by his family, their obsession with realm advancement made them greedy—and though this greed was repulsive, it was easy to exploit.

After chatting about elixirs for a while, Ji You escorted them out. Returning to the estate under the deep night, he saw Qiu Ru running toward him.

The little girl had successfully awakened her spirit. With her daily obsession only being food, her progress was astonishing—Pei Ruyi's only comment on her: "This girl is extraordinary."

At this moment, Qiu Ru tugged Ji You's sleeve: "Young Master, elbow!"

"Where to?"

"To steal you a chicken leg."

So it really was an elbow. Ji You stared at her for a long while: "Ru Ru, don't you still not believe this is our home?"

Qiu Ru looked surprised: "?"

Ji You thought: This greedy little girl is terrified of poverty. He took her to the kitchen and scooped up a chicken leg for her.

The greedy girl didn't eat just one—she took three.

Ji You looked at her: "Why take so many? If you want more, just come back."

"For the young mistress."

"?"

Ji You froze, then realized Kuangcheng must have told them.

This greedy girl really had thought ahead—two would've been enough, yet she took an extra one for herself.

After finishing their stolen snack, Ji You took her hand to walk back and saw Kuangcheng bent over, writing furiously, clearly composing something.

The last time someone wrote like this here was Gongshu Chou, who buried a huge bomb for him—Ji You immediately grew wary.

But he said nothing, merely escorted Qiu Ru to her room, then casually glanced out the window.

Kuang the Scholar was indeed writing a book—but Ji You didn't feel the need to snatch it and tear it up, for he realized Kuangcheng was writing his biography. Standing nearby for a long while, Ji You felt his face flush.

The book praised him too highly—it made him uncomfortable.

Ji You softly spoke: "I don't have lofty ideals of serving the people. You've written me as too great—it doesn't fit. Others will think I'm some noble, detached saint. It's embarrassing. I feel like I'm publicly humiliated."

Kuangcheng looked up: "?"

"I've just done what I could—made the path a little easier, helped those around me live better. That's all. No one knows what the future holds."

"Maybe tomorrow there'll be war. Maybe the immigrant immortal estates will revolt. Then all we've done will be meaningless."

"I thought that way at first—I wondered if Fengzhou should just stay as it was. But I still acted, because some things were simply unbearable. The Elder Care Hall? Not noble at all—just to satisfy my own heart, nothing to do with ideals."

"You wrote in your book that I'm Fengzhou's guardian—but I'm not. Like seeing a child on the street—I can give him a copper coin, but I can't feed him for life."

Ji You murmured: "So don't let anyone read this biography. I'll keep it myself—lest people truly think I'm some savior."

Kuangcheng looked up at him: "Young Master Ji has already done enough. Whether Fengzhou lasts a year or three, the people will ultimately thank you."

"No thanks needed—lest one day I get carried away and truly try to leave my loyal heart shining in history. My wretched life is nothing—I just fear others' expectations too much."

"Brother Ji always says that, yet always charges ahead farther than anyone else."

After speaking, Xiang Kuangcheng picked up his brush and continued writing.

He wrote about the customs and scenery of Fengzhou, the beautiful Yuyang County, and various amusing anecdotes and folk histories.

Most of it was written from Ji You's perspective—for example, Ji You's favorite spot in Yuyang County was the Drinking Horse Bridge, where he often strolled.

There was also Xiangzi Lake in Danshui County, where he had spontaneously composed a poem during his visit with Instructor Cao to recruit students for Danshui Commandery.

Ah, lake, you're all water.

Most touching of all, Xiangzi Lake had a beautiful legend: if lovers walked once around the lake and met beneath a locust tree by its shore, they would be bound together for all eternity.

Cultural exchange was truly necessary, for these shared stories sparked imagination and longing, making people feel such beauty was worth preserving.

Ji You gazed at the night's bright moon and softly asked, "When will you finish this book?"

Xiang Kuangcheng dipped his brush in ink and replied, "Based on my pace, it'll take about two more days."

"You made a mistake here."

"Hmm?"

Ji You pointed to a line in the book: "After the founding of the clans in Fengzhou, you went to the Snowlands to meet the Demon Emperor—why did you only write one poem, then skip straight to spring plowing?"

Xiang Kuangcheng lowered his head and studied it closely: "This part doesn't need to be written. Just describe how everyone reacted when you returned."

Ji You glanced at him, thought for a moment, and conceded it made sense.

Though biographies of famous figures were less rigorous than official histories, they still had to be truthful and verifiable.

Xiang Kuangcheng had never been to the Snowlands, never seen how he himself had been beaten bloody by that demon general with bare hands, never witnessed his counterkill—relying solely on hearsay made it hard to write truthfully, so omitting it for the sake of accuracy was correct.

Look, look, look—what is professional ethics?

This—is professional ethics.

Ji You couldn't help recalling Gongshu Chou's habit of fabricating endings in his head, and felt an urge to curse—he never imagined Gongshu Chou could be a novelist.

"I'm going to sleep. Don't stay up too late."

"Yes, Brother Ji."

Xiang Kuangcheng dipped his brush in ink and resumed writing with swift, fluid strokes.

After a while, Ji You reappeared in the small courtyard before the room, holding a cup of tea, which he passed through the window to Xiang Kuangcheng.

At midmorning the next day, the final plot of the joint reclamation farmland was officially registered.

He Zhang from Fengzhou Prefecture arrived from outside and asked Ji You whether cultivators should assist in sowing.

Ji You thought for a while, then shook his head.

He wanted to see what would happen without tax offerings.

So the next morning, large-scale sowing began, and the fields soon filled with the figures of ordinary people.

But not long after, some of the cultivators who had joined the joint reclamation appeared too—though only half of them, they still greatly increased the sowing speed.

Ji You stood at the field's edge watching the scene, finding it surprisingly harmonious.

At that moment, a yawn brought him back to himself—he turned and saw Xiang Kuangcheng looking utterly exhausted.

He wasn't a cultivator; he still relied on sleep to restore his spirit. This state clearly came from staying up too long.

"Is the biography finished?"

"It's finished."

"Actually, waiting a few more days wouldn't matter. I'm no great figure—why write a biography? It might even invite ridicule. But since it's done, thank you, Brother Kuang."

Everyone had a sense of vanity—even Ji You couldn't escape it. It was only natural.

He had been looking forward to these past few days, eager to see himself through another's eyes. Now he extended his hand.

The scholar coughed slightly upon seeing his hand: "I finished it, but Brother Ji, you don't know—I lost the biography the moment I finished writing it."

Ji You's eyes flickered with shock: "Lost?"

"Yes. Lost."

"Where did you lose it?"

"I lost it this morning when I went out. When I went back to look, it was gone—someone must have picked it up."

"Point me in the direction. I'll go ask—what if someone finds this embarrassing thing?"

No sooner had he spoken than he heard the thunder of a speeding carriage. He turned to see a demon merchant caravan passing through, heading north at full speed.

Their carts were pulled not by horses, but by unenlightened demon beasts—beasts whose speed was astonishing, their hooves crashing loudly, impossible to ignore.

Seeing this, he frowned slightly.

This demon caravan had arrived just days ago, tasked with purchasing their needed goods. Reports said half their order remained unfulfilled this morning—logically, they shouldn't be rushing back so urgently.

And they were too reckless—what if they hit a child?

One of the carts hadn't even raised its flag yet—it looked exactly like someone had picked up something valuable at the gate, opened it, burst into joy, and rushed home in a frenzy.

Ji You understood this feeling too well—he'd felt it himself in the Snowlands, when he'd accidentally picked up two treasure blades after fighting that demon general barehanded.

(End of Chapter)