Chapter 165

Chapter 165: Zhi Academy

At Zhi Xingxue’s words, Wang Jie turned to the old woman in astonishment.

She only smiled and nodded. They hadn’t bothered to lower their voices—she’d heard everything.

Great Chen Mountain. Chen Arts.

For Wang Jie, the temptation was overwhelming.

He had already mastered Myriad-Stars Finger. That meant he had stepped through the gate of Chen Art; many Chen Arts beyond it should now be within reach.

But how could Grand Elder Zhi Xingxue be so sure he could cultivate Chen Art at all?

He was, after all, a lockforce cultivator.

“When I first met you, I noticed how precise your control over lockforce was,” Zhi Xingxue said. “Then, during the sect’s flight, I saw you again. You kept improving. By now, you should be able to grasp a Chen Art.”

“A combat style like Chen Art works like this: once you can master one, there’s a chance you can master a second.”

“It’s just a pity that reaching Great Chen Mountain is far harder than reaching Zhi Academy. Otherwise, I’d send you straight to Great Chen Mountain this time.”

With that, Zhi Xingxue ended the conversation.

Wang Jie understood perfectly well that the senior was also making use of him—but she had treated him well, too.

Back when she helped him fold Silver Radiance Empire into Fourth Nebula, it hadn’t been manipulation. That had been genuine.

The old woman spoke again, her tone even. “Great Chen Mountain’s Chen Art is called Stacked Sky Light. It’s defensive in nature. If you master it, you won’t lose easily even if you face Wu Yun alone.”

She paused, her expression sobering.

“Most importantly—anyone who masters Stacked Sky Light automatically joins Heavenlight Pavilion.”

“In Black-White Heaven, Heavenlight Pavilion is a hidden faction.”

Wang Jie frowned. “A hidden faction?”

“A force no one officially acknowledges, yet one that truly exists,” the old woman said. “They only accept cultivators who have mastered Stacked Sky Light Chen Art. Their influence is immense.”

“As long as you can master Stacked Sky Light, whether you cultivate starforce or lockforce, Heavenlight Pavilion must take you in—and they’ll shield you.”

Pieces clicked into place.

Zhi Xingxue’s next target was Heavenlight Pavilion.

Locking Grounds and Heavenlight Pavilion—one was among the Four Refining Grounds, the other a hidden faction within Black-White Heaven. Both looked overlooked on the surface, yet carried enormous weight underneath.

Zhi Xingxue was moving step by step, forcing her way toward a real voice in Black-White Heaven.

Wang Jie let out a slow breath.

Her side really had it rough.

Getting from Locking Grounds to Zhi Academy wasn’t as simple as boarding the Nebula Stream. The Nebula Stream only flowed downward—never up.

So they could only fly directly through Star Chain.

And because Zhi Academy sat at the highest point of the Four Refining Grounds, they couldn’t cut across Death Island or Great Chen Mountain. They’d have to detour to the border and follow a boundary route upward. That roundabout path would cost them a great deal of time.

Miao Tai couldn’t come.

The old woman had made it clear: bringing Wang Jie to Zhi Academy had already cost her dearly. Bringing a second person was impossible.

Before leaving, Wang Jie contacted Miao Tai and told him to hide himself well. Then he contacted Du Xian and told her directly that he was heading to Zhi Academy, asking her to help him reach the Star Vault Vista people stationed there.

Star Vault Vista’s intelligence network was absurdly useful.

“You’re close with Star Vault Vista?” the old woman asked.

“Their information is reliable,” Wang Jie said. “They do business in every line, and they don’t cheat people.”

He thought of the first starbelt-class ship he’d bought. “Sometimes they’re a little… sharp, but it’s manageable.”

The old woman chuckled. “Use them if you must. Just don’t get too familiar.”

Wang Jie couldn’t help asking, “Senior, what exactly is Star Vault Vista? How can they be everywhere?”

Her face grew grave, her gaze deep. “They’re a colossal existence—unfathomable. You can see their shadow anywhere in the universe, but you can’t see them clearly. Their reach spans the entire cosmos, yet no one can find their true body.”

“Even the Jia Yi Sect can’t?” Wang Jie blurted.

“You know the Jia Yi Sect?” the old woman asked.

“I’ve heard of them.”

“The Jia Yi Sect is the strongest of the Four Great Nebulae,” she said. “I don’t know their exact details.”

Wang Jie hadn’t expected Jia Yi Sect to be even more terrifying than he’d imagined.

No wonder a Heaven Zen Token from Third Zen could drive Star Chain–level experts in Third Nebula into a frenzy. And Third Zen still couldn’t be compared to Jia Yi Sect.

Then what about Shu Mu Ye’s Cheng Yi Dao…?

He swallowed the question. Ask too much, and trouble followed.

Shen Wang needed a full month to cross Star Chain. That meant even at the fastest pace, the trip from Locking Grounds to Zhi Academy would take two months.

During those two months, Wang Jie cultivated in unusual peace.

With the old woman present, he didn’t need to fear anything.

The feeling was… good.

From time to time, she told him about Zhi Academy. She was also curious—how could a lockforce cultivator also be a Chen Refiner?

Wang Jie had no explanation to offer. She didn’t press.

He learned that among the Four Refining Grounds, the easiest to enter was Death Island.

It was a Deadland. The people there trained only in brutal combat and didn’t mind outsiders entering—so long as you weren’t afraid to die.

If the only goal was to avoid Wu Yun, Zhi Xingxue could have sent him to Death Island. But as the old woman put it, Zhi Xingxue wanted Wang Jie to put his identity as a Chen Refiner to use inside Zhi Academy.

Even without her saying it outright, Wang Jie understood.

He would be expected to do something.

Not forced—just expected.

Two months passed.

As the ship entered Zhi Academy’s range, the atmosphere seemed to shift. Maybe it was his imagination, but even the air felt different.

The screen filled with ship-lights—far more than he’d ever seen in Locking Grounds.

“All right,” the old woman said. “We’re here. Zhi Academy. I’m leaving.”

“Remember what I told you. Every place has its rules.”

She stepped off the ship and vanished into the distance.

Wang Jie bowed slowly. “Thank you for seeing me here, Senior.”

After her presence disappeared completely, Wang Jie opened his personal terminal. A new contact had appeared: Mu Ran.

The old woman had given it to him.

The Shuanghua Sect survivors in Zhi Academy, it seemed, were not doing well.

Zhi Academy was a strange existence among the Four Refining Grounds. Cultivation here was loose and relaxed, and the academy trained mostly professional cultivators of every craft and trade.

It was also the only place among the Four Refining Grounds where you could avoid forced conscription and stay forever.

In other words: once you entered Zhi Academy, so long as nothing unexpected happened, you could spend your entire life here—eating, wasting time, and waiting to die.

No battlefield drafts. No sudden orders.

Compared to the other three refining grounds, it was paradise.

The layout was simple as well.

At the center was Four-Dao Star Cluster, with four directions branching outward: artifacts, pills, arrays, and cultivation.

The first three were self-explanatory. The last—cultivation—was where ordinary cultivators gathered.

Bluntly speaking, it was for those who didn’t want to fight for their lives on Death Island, didn’t believe they could master Chen Art, and didn’t need to go to Locking Grounds as bottom-tier cannon fodder.

The cultivators in that area were almost all starforce cultivators.

And in Zhi Academy, pure cultivation sat at the bottom of the hierarchy. Here, the greatest respect went to masters of the professions.

Even Four-Dao Star Cluster was known as Four-Dao Market—because it sold the goods of every craft.

That was why the old woman had said: here, strength came second. Skill came first.

In Locking Grounds, you could climb by killing.

Here, you couldn’t.

In the artifacts direction, in a valley on one of the academy’s worlds, a group of people clanged and scraped as they mined ore. Under the brutal heat, more than a few could barely breathe.

Mu Ran stepped over jagged stone, ore strapped to his back, and looked up at the sky.

When would this end?

After Shuanghua Sect was destroyed, they’d come to Black-White Heaven thinking life would improve. Black-White Heaven ruled the entire Fourth Nebula—surely it would be better here.

Instead, the moment they entered Zhi Academy, the suffering began. They were targeted from every side. Worse, they’d even been framed for stealing tools.

Ridiculous. He was an arrays practitioner—why would he steal tools?

If he was going to steal anything, it would be Seal-Chen Stone.

But it didn’t matter. The entire Zhi Academy was set against them.

They’d been dragged here to mine as “atonement.” And yet they could still contact the outside world—so everyone could see exactly what they were being made to do.

Mu Ran wasn’t stupid. He knew this was a performance for Grand Elder Zhi Xingxue.

Let Star-Refining Realm lords play their political games if they wanted. Why drag little people like them into it?

“Hey, you over there!” someone shouted. “Dig faster. If you don’t finish, you don’t eat.”

Mu Ran sighed and kept digging.

Beep, beep, beep.

His terminal chirped.

He glanced at the caller. Unknown. He ignored it.

Recently, strangers kept getting his contact from who-knew-where just to mock him—some tried to bait him into cursing Grand Elder Zhi Xingxue.

He wasn’t an idiot. If he stayed silent, he was still on Zhi Xingxue’s side. If he spoke, he’d offend both sides.

Those people were the idiots.

“You,” someone barked, “why aren’t you answering? Pick up. Now.”

Mu Ran grimaced. Fine. He accepted the call. “Who is this?”

“Wang Jie.”

Mu Ran froze, sure he’d misheard. “Who?”

“Long time no see, Master Mu.”

Mu Ran’s eyes widened.

Wang Jie?

Wasn’t he in Locking Grounds?

How could he possibly reach him?

Was it real?

“Are you really Wang Jie… Master Wang?” Mu Ran asked hoarsely.

“It’s me,” Wang Jie said. “How are you all holding up?”

Mu Ran nearly broke on the spot. After so long, it felt like family calling.

“Master Wang… you have no idea how hard it’s been. Ever since—”

Inside the ship, beneath an endless spread of stars, Wang Jie listened in silence.

He’d known Mu Ran and the others were being targeted. He’d known people were using them to disgust Zhi Xingxue. But he hadn’t imagined it was this brutal.

They hadn’t had a single good day since arriving.

Back when Shuanghua Sect first joined Zhi Academy, many disciples died. Others betrayed them and spread poison everywhere, claiming Shuanghua Sect and Grand Elder Zhi Xingxue were villains. Only a handful still held on—Mu Ran among them—and even they were forced into the mines.

No one could help them here.

The situation was worse than he’d feared.

“Master Wang,” Mu Ran asked shakily, “weren’t you in Locking Grounds? How did you contact me?”

Wang Jie stared at the starfield beyond the viewport. “I transferred over from Locking Grounds.”

Mu Ran’s mind went blank. “You can do that?”

Then, desperate hope surged. “Then can I transfer to Locking Grounds?”

“Who’s targeting you the worst?” Wang Jie cut in, steering the question away. He needed to know who the enemy was.

Mu Ran laughed bitterly. “Too many. Everyone’s taking turns.”

“I’m an arrays practitioner, and a craft refiner framed me for stealing his tools. Tell me that isn’t absurd. And the arrays side wouldn’t speak up for me.”

Tools. Arrays.

“And alchemy is worse,” Mu Ran said, his voice shaking with anger. “Some bastard insisted a Revival Pill must have been stolen by us—no one else, only us. And while he was talking, he shoved it right into my clothes. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. I—”

Wang Jie exhaled slowly.

So that was how they were playing it. If so, his original plan wouldn’t work at all.

“Master Wang,” Mu Ran pleaded, “can you come save us? You’re a Chen Refiner—here in Zhi Academy you must have standing. Please… save us.”

“Not yet,” Wang Jie said. “Wait.”

He ended the call.

He’d intended to rescue Mu Ran and the others first.

But now it was clear: if he showed his face, he’d be dragged into the same mud.

Mu Ran’s group could be forced into the mines and still communicate freely with the outside world—meaning the outside didn’t care who they begged for help.

If fists didn’t solve problems here, he’d need another way entirely.