Chapter 274: What Good Is Bowing?

Cold dew startles the late autumn; at dawn, chrysanthemums turn gradually yellow. A thousand homes sweep leaves with wind; ten thousand geese follow the sun.

The sun's light had not yet pierced through; white dew stretched endlessly.

A large group of cultivators passed through Zilang County, under the jurisdiction of Anyuan City, and were warmly entertained by the local governor.

They had just come from the northwest, searching from the Dongping Mountains all the way to this place, now exhausted and bearing solemn expressions.

Although Bu Qirong was dead, those elderly elders from the immortal sects had not given up hope.

They ordered them to conduct three consecutive days of mountain searches, trying to find any surviving Bu family descendants—but found nothing.

Afterwards, they investigated the winery, the main Bu family residence, visited local government offices, and reviewed county records.

Countless complex pieces of information were gathered in a basket, piled chaotically together.

These details still couldn't be judged useful; they waited only to be handed to the elders, perhaps to be sorted into coherent threads.

Jiang Yan, Yan Qiubai, Jiang Yuerou were also resting here, along with the severely injured Jiang Chenfeng, Xie Chenyu, and others, preparing to return to their sect by immortal ship.

As they ate and drank, their fatigue eased, and their taut nerves gradually relaxed.

But at that moment, the sound of gongs and drums in the street caught their attention.

So they stepped out of the governor's mansion to look outside.

On the official road of Zilang City, tax collectors drove grain carts back and forth, their intimidation rods raised high, majestic and peerless.

Some hunched-over commoners carried heavy sacks toward them, walking under the haughty gaze of the tax officers.

Elderly people who moved too slowly were often kicked and beaten.

The governor of Zilang stood respectfully beside them, bowing deeply: "Every year after autumn harvest, this is when our county collects taxes. Half the grain goes to the imperial treasury, half to our immortal sect, to sustain all you immortals."

A disciple of Shanhaige couldn't help asking curiously: "Do we immortals really eat this much grain?"

"Some is exchanged for silver and gold, re-entering the market to be sold back to the people; another portion is purchased by Yunzhou to feed all its miners, and what's given to you immortals are spirit stones."

"Another portion is exchanged by Zhongzhou and Yuzhou to feed workers at spirit seed farms—overall, it will satisfy the immortal lords."

These cultivators, who spent years secluded in deep mountains, ignorant of worldly affairs, had never known their daily food, clothing, and necessities came from this—now they found it vivid and alive.

Seeing the immortals so interested, the governor of Zilang spoke again: "But this year, the tax tribute for you immortals may be slightly less."

"Why is that?"

"A new merchant house has opened in the city, hiring many of our people to work there. They promised to pay the full tax tribute by collection day—but…"

A Shanhaige disciple frowned slightly: "They didn't pay enough?"

The governor of Zilang waved his hand: "The quantity is sufficient, but losses are inevitable during transport, especially with these days of continuous rain—much of the grain sprouted on the road. How can such grain be accepted?"

"There's such a thing?"

"I've been troubled by this matter for days. Since you immortals happen to pass through, I dare to beg you to intervene on my behalf."

The governor of Zilang waved his sleeve and summoned a young man behind him: "Yesterday, my son went to argue on your behalf, but was beaten and thrown out by the manager."

The governor's son stepped forward with clasped hands: "That damned merchant house, I don't know whose power they're relying on—they're utterly vile, even insulting our immortal sect! Truly a rabble!"

Since Bu Qirong's death, those elders desperate for extended life had been moody, and some disciples had suffered indignities with no outlet.

Hearing this, some eager souls lifted their heads proudly, eager to go see what was happening—and reclaim their sense of being immortals, to balance their Dao hearts.

Thus, the governor of Zilang and his son knelt three times and bowed nine times, leading the way ahead.

In truth, grain transport is always covered with tarpaulins; even if damp, it rarely sprouts.

And the so-called losses were not due to transport at all—but human manipulation.

Government runners knew the carts carried tax tribute and dared not touch them, but local officials always couldn't resist temptation.

Before this merchant house existed, commoners' tax tribute was collected directly by them; taking extra for their own pockets was an established rule.

But with more people working outside, this merchant house bypassed scattered households entirely, dealing directly with official grain deliveries—accounts were crystal clear, leaving almost no chance for graft.

The governor of Zilang was a new official with three fires of ambition—he had long coveted this merchant house.

Now, with the power of the immortals behind him, he was impatient to act.

Seeing them leave, the remaining crowd couldn't help but smile faintly.

Life on the mountain is lonely; some crave the feeling of superiority—it's inevitable. But for others, such actions that tarnish the Dao heart should be avoided.

Yet soon, those who went with them returned with complex expressions, each holding a sack of grain.

Behind them, the governor of Zilang and his heir appeared uneasy, heads bowed in silence.

Because those immortal lords hadn't even entered the door—only exchanged a few equal words with the merchant manager, then turned and walked back.

And what terrified them was that the manager was merely a mortal.

"Did the merchant house yield?"

"They spoke politely. When the conversation grew pleasant, they even sold us several sacks of grain at high price…"

"???"

Showing off power harms the Dao heart—but curiosity does not.

In fact, humanity's path to immortality began precisely from curiosity toward the Dao.

So many curious people gradually followed the trail, and when they saw the sign "Wu Lv Merchant House," they fell instantly silent.

Fengzhou originally had no cultivators—but suddenly, one appeared.

Then came Wenshan, Qiudou, the Dao Alliance; after many events, many began to know of him.

His surname was Ji, his given name You, his courtesy name Wu Lv.

Of course, rumors also claimed his courtesy name was Bo Chang.

At this moment, the manager of Wu Lv Merchant House summoned courage and asked if they needed grain—so each of them received a sack.

This scene left the governor of Zilang and his son trembling with fear.

Later, everyone returned to the governor's mansion. Whether they bought grain or not, all fell silent.

Many things had happened on the Dongping Mountains, many unexpected—such as the appearance of the barbarians, and Bu Qirong's death.

But what lingered most in their minds was what had happened to Ji You.

These past days, they had been searching mountains and conducting scattered investigations, with little time to communicate.

Only now, seeing this merchant house from Fengzhou, did they begin to deeply ponder everything that had occurred on Dongping Mountain.

Ji You, rumored to have hit a bottleneck and forever stuck at Tongxuan Realm, suddenly appeared on Dongping Mountain, drew his sword, and slew a Yingtian-level demonic seed, then defeated a Wuxiang-level elder from his own sect.

This alone was enough to leave people speechless—many still couldn't accept it.

But even more astonishing was another thing about Ji You…

Bu Qirong was a man all immortal sects had ordered to be captured alive—but Ji You had killed him outright.

They clearly felt the elders' rage had surged to the heavens, desperate to grind Ji You's bones to dust—but before they could act, the Xiao Jianzhu of Lingjian Mountain had blocked them with the power of a sacred artifact.

As the sole one among the Seven Immortal Sects to wield a sacred artifact, the Xiao Jianzhu, famed for her icy beauty, had intervened for him—this alone had already shocked everyone at the time.

But even more puzzling was the reaction of those elders.

The Xiao Jianzhu held the position of Sect Master; her authority naturally towered over all.

Yet Qingyun Realm always followed rules—even a Sect Master couldn't openly interfere in another sect's affairs.

If Ji You were a Lingjian Mountain disciple, even if he slaughtered an aristocratic family, the Xiao Jianzhu's intervention would deter others—but the problem was Ji You was a Tian Shu Academy disciple.

Yet inexplicably, all the elders suppressed their anger.

That meant they all believed the Xiao Jianzhu had legitimate reason to intervene in Ji You's affairs.

Later, Ji You collapsed on the mountain and was taken away by the Xiao Jianzhu of Lingjian Mountain—and Tian Shu Academy offered no objection, as if it were natural he should be taken.

They had been far away then and hadn't heard Yan Shuyi's words: "Family matter." But each had their own thoughts.

Some thought Ji You was a secret agent of Lingjian Mountain.

Others thought Yan Shuyi had taken a liking to Ji You and wanted to recruit him into Lingjian Mountain.

Of course, there were even bolder theories—perhaps the most plausible—but once they surfaced, they seemed unbelievable.

Only Jiang Yan sat silent, her eyes slightly stunned—her heart had already confirmed an answer: "The two women who attended Ji You were your Xiao Jianzhu's personal maids, weren't they?"

Yan Qiubai, sitting beside her, opened her lips gently: "Sister has only just remembered?"

"When the Lingjian Mountain carriage arrived at the Hall of the Ancients, I was only staring at the Xiao Jianzhu—I didn't clearly see their faces. But even if I had, I doubt I would have believed it."

"I looked for a long time before I was certain I hadn't mistaken them." Jiang Yan's mind conjured Ji You holding a sharp sword; her eyelashes trembled slightly.

After barely escaping death in the eastern valley of Zhuoying Gorge, she had once asked Yan Qiubai: if she didn't want to take Ji You as a husband, she would.

In truth, she spoke honestly—before, Ji You was merely Tongxuan Realm, not enough to make her truly desire to pursue him.

Even if his combat power vaguely surpassed Tongxuan, his humble origins as a self-taught cultivator remained a point of scorn.

But in that valley, Ji You's displayed combat power had utterly exceeded her imagination—making her feel no hesitation.

She knew of Ji You's relationship with Yuan Caiwei; she knew becoming the principal wife would be difficult. But recently, she'd heard Yu Danzong was negotiating with Shanhaige, intending to marry their daughter to their direct disciple, the Sacred Heir.

This made Jiang Yan feel fewer rivals—her chances were still considerable.

But she never imagined Yuan Caiwei might not even become the principal wife—because the Xiao Jianzhu of Lingjian Mountain was also Ji You's Dao partner.

Yet Jiang Yan didn't blame Yan Qiubai for not telling her.

Even she, a disciple of the Wenda Sect, dared not casually discuss this matter—how much less could Yan Qiubai, a disciple of Lingjian Mountain?

"I always thought the Xiao Jianzhu of Lingjian Mountain was cold and peerless, like a true goddess descending to earth. Now it's different. I recall when the Dao Alliance was held, Tian Shu Academy and Lingjian Mountain were assigned to the same courtyard?"

"Sister Yan, before this is confirmed by their own lips, don't speculate rashly…"

Both fell silent—but Yan Qiubai knew what Jiang Yan meant.

If they truly were Dao partners, then perhaps the assignment to the same courtyard wasn't coincidence—it was her Xiao Jianzhu wanting to stay close to her husband.

But recalling the Xiao Jianzhu's cold, haughty image in her mind, she found it impossible to reconcile.

After Cold Dew, temperatures plummeted; the chill was biting.

The commoners continued their poor but stable lives, preparing for winter after paying their tax tribute, while disciples of all sects returned to their homes with all materials concerning the Bu family.

At the same time, members of the Academy began returning one by one.

First to return to Nishan were Qin Rong and Ji Jingyao's group, who had gone to hunt down the barbarians but, unable to match their strength, had to hand the matter over to the Zhenbei Army.

Soon after, the group led by Elder Fang and Elder Ge returned—those who had continued searching for clues related to the Bu family.

News of their return had spread quickly through both the Inner and Outer Academies, so as soon as their convoy entered the city, a large crowd of disciples from both wings came to greet them.

But in truth, many among them hoped to use this opportunity to find out whether the rumors about a naturally born spiritual treasure appearing in the Dongping Mountains were true.

Coincidentally, a carriage arriving from Anyuan City also reached the scene, crushing the puddles of autumn rain scattered across the ground.

Though traveling in the same direction as Elder Fang's group, the carriage appeared unusually solitary.

The other carriages seemed to deliberately keep their distance, hugging the left side.

At first, the disciples standing at the gate assumed the carriage was unrelated to Elder Fang's party—until it stopped right beside them at the Academy's entrance.

Elder Fang stepped out first, his face pale and his steps unsteady, instantly revealing his injuries to the crowd, who widened their eyes in shock.

Everyone in the Academy knew Elder Fang was a Great Being of the Wujiang Realm, and whispers immediately began: who could have possibly wounded him?

As they murmured, the lone carriage lifted its curtain, and Ji You leapt down, drawing all eyes.

The disciples who had returned with Elder Fang knew what had happened; seeing Ji You again, their expressions grew complicated.

On the stone steps, Elder Fang glared at him with a venomous gaze, blazing with fury and veiled fear.

That day in the dense forest, Ji You had shattered the myriad spells shielding him, triggering backlash—while Ji You's waist and abdomen had been pierced through by his own qi.

But he knew clearly: if he gave his all, he could have crippled Ji You—but Ji You could end his life.

Ji You now stared back coldly, his eyes filled with provocation.

This wasn't because he'd grown arrogant after testing his combat power—it was because Elder Fang's purse was simply too tempting…

So tempting that even another fight might be worth it.

But the disciples who had stayed behind at the Academy didn't know the truth; seeing this scene, they were baffled.

"Was Ji You really sent to the Dongping Mountains?"

"Of course he was."

"Didn't expect him to return safely—how many times can such luck strike him?"

"But hasn't anyone noticed something odd? Why didn't they return together?"

"Did he offend Elder Fang? I just saw Elder Fang's expression—he looked like he wanted to carve him into a thousand pieces."

"Ji You was already an eyesore in the Elder's Pavilion—how did he offend Elder Fang again? He hasn't even broken through to the Rongdao Realm—how will he survive from now on?"

"That's just how he is…"

While the Bu family's affair drew a flood of Immortal Sects, life within Nishan remained relatively peaceful.

Some were in seclusion, striving to break through their realms; others indulged in food, drink, and entertainment, mingling in various social circles.

But because rumors of the naturally born spiritual treasure in the Dongping Mountains had spread so vividly, many secretly kept watch.

So when Elder Fang's group returned, many gathered to observe.

At this moment, Fang Jincheng stepped forward to Lady Zhao Yunyue of the Changle Princess: "Forgive me, but Grandfather is exhausted from the journey and likely in poor spirits. I'll report the Immortal Banquet matter later."

"No problem. My Chong Prince's affairs are trivial—of course we defer to Elder Fang's schedule. My father and I are in no hurry."

The growing power of the Si Xian Jian had made the Immortal-Favored faction's life difficult, and pressure mounted in the imperial court.

With loss of control over tax offerings, and the spirit stone merchants they partnered with steadily reducing output, their ties to the Immortal Sects had grown increasingly thin.

Thus, Prince Chong had gone to great lengths to gather fine items—elixirs, magical artifacts, weapons—and planned to host a banquet to invite some Immortals.

His goal remained to pressure the Emperor, his nephew, to reclaim tax control from the Si Xian Jian.

But such a banquet held no meaning if attendees lacked sufficient status—so Zhao Yunyue had set her sights on Elder Fang.

One reason was her decent relationship with Fang Jincheng; another was that she'd heard Elder Fang adored tea cups.

Fortunately, Prince Chong had acquired a set of tea ware nurtured in spiritual light for decades—perfectly suited to his taste.

But seeing Elder Fang's furious expression, Zhao Yunyue felt now was not the time to mention it.

So she turned her gaze to Ji You at the gate.

The feud between Elder Fang and Ji You originated from Fang Jincheng and Lu Hanyan, then reached its peak during the Heavenly Dao Preliminaries.

But in her view, Elder Fang was a powerful elder of an Immortal Sect—openly despising a disciple merely of the Tongxuan Realm seemed beneath his dignity.

At that moment, a cold snort echoed.

Elder Fang swept his sleeve and departed, levitating into the air with a dark expression, vanishing into the boundless Lin Hai forest.

But to everyone's surprise, Elder Ge, who arrived next, also stopped before Ji You—just as Elder Fang had.

As the crowd wondered if Ji You had offended both elders at once, Elder Ge suddenly raised his hand, bowed slightly to Ji You, and performed a respectful gesture.

The onlookers froze in shock, eyes wide at Elder Ge's bent back.

In both Immortal Sects and noble clans, an Elder's status surpassed that of instructors—and far above that of students.

By custom, only disciples bowed to Elders—never the reverse.

At this moment, Elder Ge slowly rose.

When Bu Qirong had led eight demonic seeds against him, it was Ji You who drew his sword and saved his life. Though he knew Ji You hadn't acted to save him, gratitude was still necessary.

He had originally intended to give Ji You silver—but not to bow so low.

He changed his mind because Ji You's combat power was terrifying.

Most crucially, he now realized Ji You was no mere backwater cultivator without background.

If his true background were revealed, the entire Tian Shu Academy would shake.

Thus, bowing before so many witnesses, Elder Ge indeed harbored a touch of flattery.

In his view, an Elder lowering himself in such a gesture carried more sincerity than silver.

Yet the next instant, Ji You merely returned a half-hearted, faint smile, then turned and walked away without acknowledgment.

"No silver, just empty gestures."

"What good is a bow…?"

Meanwhile, the three Directors of the Zhaoshi Yuan and the Hall Masters of the Inner Academy were all watching his figure.

In their gazes, the long-missing white-cloaked swordsman now radiated the aura of a tiger returning to the mountains.

They knew Ji You had killed members of the Bu family—some approved, others opposed—but in truth, including Tian Shu Academy, all Immortal Sects were still secretly investigating, never treating Bu Qirong's death as the end.

(End of Chapter)