Chapter 354: Ji You Will Surely Lose!

“Damn it, why is Taiping Tower raising prices again?!”

“Are vegetables more expensive than gold? How are people supposed to live?!”

Wu Li Corporation was boycotted by the clans, but the restaurants thrived, with cultivators coming and going in endless streams.

But after only a few days, the once affordable restaurant began rapidly hiking its prices.

This pattern repeated itself across all six provinces of Qingyun.

Then, just as the price of that cheap restaurant rose to match the others, one restaurant suddenly announced a price cut.

The one that had previously closed—Shiwei Xian—was among them.

Though the price dropped, it wasn’t as extreme as Taiping Tower’s; when calculated by raw material cost, the dishes were nearly equal to Wu Li Corporation’s prices, yet still lower than other restaurants in the industry.

As a result, Shiwei Xian’s customer base surged dramatically.

After Shiwei Xian’s prices rose back up, another ten days passed with vegetables costing more than gold—then Hongding Xuan slashed its prices, instantly igniting an even greater frenzy.

In Shengcheng, as the sun set, night fell softly, lights glowing bright.

In a private room on the second floor of Hongding Xuan, several scions of the capital cursed incessantly over the food prices.

Fang Jincheng sneered: “Even if prices rise, we’ll still eat—just refuse to buy Ji You’s grain, let it rot in his warehouses, and see how he explains it to his people!”

“Brother Fang speaks true—eat!”

The invited disciples of Tian Shu Academy immediately began feasting voraciously, turning their fury into appetite.

Seeing this, Yu Shiliu couldn’t help but lift her head slightly: “Brother Fang, have you ever wondered where the food in these restaurants comes from?”

“What?”

“The entire world is suffering from grain shortages—do you think this food appears out of thin air?”

Fang Jincheng’s brow furrowed as he listened; after a long pause, he threw down his chopsticks: “Are you saying the food I’m eating still comes from Fengzhou?”

Yu Shiliu looked at him coldly: “You’re not as stupid as you look.”

“Not just the ingredients.”

“?”

Yu Shiliu paused, then turned to Zhao Yunyue at another table: “Not just the ingredients?”

Zhao Yunyue lifted her wine cup gently: “Taiping Tower’s reckless price cuts nearly bankrupted these Shengcheng restaurants. Ji You bought up the grain at rock-bottom prices—now, every restaurant still operating, whether Hongding Xuan or Shiwei Xian, belongs to him.”

“How did you learn of this?”

“My father holds shares in several of these restaurants—he naturally knows when ownership changes. You just weren’t paying attention.”

To cultivators, Wu Li Corporation’s boycott and neglect was a satisfying sight.

But few realized that Qingyun’s most thriving restaurant industry had quietly changed hands—and was now rapidly funneling vast wealth to him.

Yu Shiliu pondered a moment before speaking: “Is he going through all this trouble just for a few restaurants?”

“All restaurants in Qingyun qualified to host Immortal Banquets are run by collateral branches of the clans. They collect taxes from the people, funnel profits back to their main families and investing immortal houses—resources have always circulated among cultivators. But now that Ji You has seized them, everything changes.”

“Fengzhou’s produce will now flow directly into the Immortal Banquet supply chain, sold at inflated prices to cultivators, with profits returned to Fengzhou.”

Zhao Yunyue gazed at the brightly lit interior: “The immortal sects have always over-collected taxes—they have more than they can use. In the past, it circulated; now it’ll just rot in their hands. But as long as Fengzhou’s grain output remains abundant and prices stay high, the blood will keep being siphoned back down to the lower levels.”

“Just a few restaurants? How much can he possibly make?” Fang Jincheng muttered after a long silence, grimacing.

“All restaurants in Qingyun.”

“?”

“And every freight station. Wu Li Corporation has been steadily expanding its reach. As more industries get absorbed into this upheaval, resources will naturally flow toward it. He can raise freight rates, forcing other industries’ costs skyward—and even take a cut from tax grain transport.”

Zhao Yunyue’s eyelashes trembled slightly: “When he controls so many levers, he can make anything valuable, raise any price—he will dictate the entire economy.”

This business model wasn’t unheard of—my father excelled at it, otherwise he wouldn’t have traded road rights for shares in the Spirit Stone Consortium back then.

But according to my father, this path can never reach its end.

Because even if business has its own logic, that logic ultimately serves the cultivators—it can never threaten their interests.

If they tried this, it would die at the price-increase stage.

But there’s one exception: if the person doing it is powerful enough that even a thousand-year-old clan must consider his stance—strong enough to resist, but not to crush.

At this thought, her mind drifted back five years.

When Ji You first entered the academy, he was so insignificant no one remembered whether he came from Yuyang or Yuyang.

But now, he’s attempting to control the world.

Honestly, asking these mountain-bound cultivators to think about the entire world’s resource flow—even giving them a year—would yield nothing.

After all, these are mundane matters, and cultivation demands clarity of the Dao-heart.

Zhao Yunyue’s explanation was blunt, yet comprehensive in scope.

Upon hearing these deductions, everyone at the table sat with slightly open mouths, as if they could see Ji You sitting quietly in some room in Fengzhou, observing the entire world’s operations.

After the banquet, Zhao Yunyue returned to Chong Mansion in her carriage and saw people coming and going inside.

Her father paced in the courtyard, clutching an account ledger.

“Father.”

“Back already?”

Zhao Yunyue nodded, then glanced at the visitors: “Who are these people? What do they want?”

Chong Wang closed the ledger: “The He, Huang, Qiu, and other clans have come to borrow grain.”

“The Elders of Wenda Sect came yesterday and took a shipment—more are arriving today. Your pre-stocked reserves won’t last much longer.”

“A drop in the ocean. The real issue lies with Ji You.”

Zhao Yunyue pondered long: “What are the clans waiting for?”

“For relief grain.”

Chong Wang spoke softly: “Winter is coming. Whether he’s buying up businesses or forcing the clans to bleed through high grain prices, he can’t avoid the relief grain problem. How can commoners endure such prices? And how can he ignore them? That’s his greatest weakness.”

Years ago, Ji You risked his life with his Tongxuan-level cultivation to escort the human envoy to the Snowlands for a few thousand spirit stones, drawing endless mockery.

Some said that even if he won the Chu River battle, he was still a poor, lowborn cultivator—willing to sell his life for spirit stones, too cheap.

But Zuoqiuyang once said: “Obvious weaknesses are rarely true weaknesses—they’re meant to conceal what’s truly deadly.”

History proved him right.

Last winter’s disaster, Ji You stood against all cultivators in the world, halting spirit stone transport and switching to relief grain shipments.

Thus everyone learned: his true weakness isn’t money—it’s the common folk at the bottom.

Some who had tracked him in disaster zones knew even more precisely: he cannot bear to watch poor children die of hunger.

So relief grain will come—massive, nationwide relief grain.

Cultivators can fast indefinitely, but as winter arrives, starving commoners will perish in the snow.

So even if Ji You is powerful and cunning, he’ll still be forced to yield.

“Your Highness!”

“?”

Chong Wang turned toward the gate and saw his chief steward hurrying over: “What is it?”

The steward gasped: “Dozens of clan elders are gathered in Winter Garden, requesting your presence.”

“Tell them the mansion has no more grain left…”

“It’s not about borrowing grain.”

Chong Wang blinked: “Then what?”

The steward shook his head: “I don’t know. But the immortal elders asked you to summon Dou the Minister—and to bring the tax collection ledgers.”

“?”

Chong Wang’s expression turned thoughtful; he donned his fur-lined cloak and stepped out the gate.

Zhao Yunyue found this strange—she didn’t understand why the clan members had come, nor why they wanted the ledgers.

After all, this year, every province except Fengzhou had zero harvests; the people of Great Xia were barely fed, let alone able to pay taxes—what use could the ledgers possibly serve?

The Princess of Changle pondered, then returned to her room, bathed under her maid’s care, and closed her eyes to cultivate.

The next morning, the sky was overcast, the wind cold.

Zhao Yunyue rose early and trained swordplay in the cool pavilion when she saw her father returning by carriage—her brow furrowed in surprise.

“Father, you didn’t come home last night?”

“No, I returned at Hai Hour. I went out again this morning.”

Chong Wang replied briefly, then strode into his study.

Soon after, he left the mansion again, departing by carriage as swiftly as he’d returned.

Zhao Yunyue didn’t press further; she closed her eyes and resumed cultivation until noon, then left to meet friends.

The restaurants in Shengcheng continued raising prices, drawing furious curses from every shopkeeper’s ancestors.

Grain shortages remained the central topic of conversation.

As Zhao Yunyue predicted, as grain prices climbed higher, many merchants began voluntarily approaching Wu Li Corporation for aid.