Chapter 209

Chapter 209: Ying Yang Battlefield

The attendant beamed. “Dao-Enlightenment Pill.”

“Only one hundred million starstone.”

Wang Jie laughed coldly. “You’re worse than Du Xian.”

“Dao-Enlightenment Pill is made from the dregs of Enlightenment Tea. It doesn’t require special alchemy skill. The only rarity is the material—if you have it, anyone can refine it.”

“Normal price is fifty million starstone,” Wang Jie said. “And you’re asking double?”

“Prices vary by region,” she said smoothly. “Guest may ask around. See who else is selling Dao-Enlightenment Pill.”

Wang Jie’s gaze flickered. “Maybe you should talk to Du Xian. I know her.”

“That’s exactly why it’s one hundred million,” the attendant said without blinking. “Others charge more.”

Wang Jie scoffed. Like he’d believe that.

Now he understood how Star Vault Exchange stayed afloat.

They sold goods at shameless prices, then made up for it elsewhere with speed and connections.

Du Xian had cheated him more than once, and yet he didn’t dislike her.

That was skill.

“Fine,” Wang Jie said. “I’ll buy it.”

“Thank you, Guest.”

Ten billion starstone.

He could afford to be cheated.

He told himself that if he was being cheated, it meant he looked like someone worth cheating.

It was a pathetic kind of comfort, but it was all he had.

He bought in bulk—pills by the hundreds and thousands.

When it was over, the total came to one billion six hundred sixty-two million starstone.

The amount was deducted directly from his Xingrong card.

Next destination: Ping Xiao.

Ping Xiao was the transit point where cultivators entered the Star-Cloud Battlefield.

Earlier, when Wang Jie had assigned Lockforce cultivators, he’d bypassed Ping Xiao and sent them directly to their battlefields. That had been to avoid sect distribution and secure a favor for Zhi Xing Xue.

Now there was no avoiding it.

This was forced conscription. He would have to pass Ping Xiao and be counted.

Ping Xiao floated near Death Island’s nebula stream, close to both Great Chen Mountain and Suo Xing Jian.

Wang Jie piloted his ship to the nebula stream, then rode the current into Ping Xiao. It was the fastest route.

Ping Xiao was a slab of land drifting in space, not especially large.

One side connected to the nebula stream, and cultivators poured in continuously.

Those were starforce cultivators.

Lockforce cultivators couldn’t travel upstream like that—they had to arrive by ship.

When Wang Jie reached Ping Xiao, he immediately saw someone he hadn’t expected.

Little Lan.

“Senior?” Wang Jie asked, surprised. “Why are you here?”

Little Lan looked at him with a complicated expression. “Master sent me to deliver something.”

She handed him a brooch shaped like a flower.

Wang Jie frowned. “What is this?”

“A gift from Flower Country,” Little Lan explained. “Anyone who holds this brooch can receive one assistance from Flower Country.”

“In practice, it means healing,” she said. “Flower Country is a power in Second Star Cloud. Their healing methods are exceptional.”

“People fight and kill for a brooch like this. Its value is far below Zen Token, but it’s still not easy to obtain.”

She met Wang Jie’s eyes. “Master hopes you won’t die on the battlefield.”

Warmth spread through Wang Jie’s chest. He clasped his hands. “Please thank the Grand Elder for me. Junior will do everything possible to come back alive.”

Little Lan sighed. “The Star-Cloud Battlefield isn’t like other places. Strength matters, but so does luck.”

She hesitated, then said softly, “Your luck has always been good. We’ll wait for the day you return.”

“I will,” Wang Jie promised.

Little Lan left.

Wang Jie looked ahead.

There weren’t many people—just over ten thousand.

Thrown into a battlefield, this many wouldn’t even make a splash.

Most were at Ten Seals cultivation. Star-Breaking Realm cultivators were rare. Full-Star Realm cultivators were even rarer.

Wang Jie found a corner and waited.

A tall man approached him with an open, friendly air. “Brother, which battlefield are you assigned to?”

“I’m Liu Chang,” the man said. “I’m headed to Silver-Sand Battlefield.”

“Ying Yang Battlefield,” Wang Jie replied.

Liu Chang blinked. “Ying Yang Battlefield? That’s odd.”

“Wasn’t Ying Yang Battlefield for the last batch?” he asked. “How did you end up in this one?”

Wang Jie shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He glanced at Liu Chang. “You seem to know the battlefields. Tell me what you can.”

“I wouldn’t say I know them,” Liu Chang said quickly. “We’re all people who can’t rise in the sect. The battlefield’s our only way to gamble for resources.”

“Plenty of people have already agreed to band together,” he continued. “No matter who makes it, they pull the others up. It’s the old method.”

He began explaining with practiced ease.

“There are three battlefields. The Silver-Sand Battlefield I’m going to is the third main battlefield. The enemies are some civilized races in Fourth Nebula.”

“When the sect conquered Fourth Nebula, it didn’t wipe everything out. Some species always slip through. Others are remnants of forces that competed with the sect and have now formed some kind of alliance.”

“And the battlefield you’re assigned to,” Liu Chang said, “the Ying Yang Battlefield, is the second main battlefield. The enemies are Second Star Cloud and Third Nebula.”

“It’s basically a chaotic struggle for territory,” he added. “Whoever seizes more regions wins more.”

“You know how it works. More regions means more planets. More planets means more starforce. More starforce means more cultivators.”

“And that includes strange planets,” he said, eyes glinting.

Wang Jie nodded, listening.

“The most terrifying is the first main battlefield,” Liu Chang continued, lowering his voice. “I don’t know who the enemies are. We’re not qualified to be assigned there anyway.”

“I’ve heard the first main battlefield is mostly conscription,” he added. “Very few go voluntarily…”

He spoke at length—about resources, survival, and the way people used connections in Steward Hall to get assigned in groups, so they could hold together on the battlefield and earn merit as a unit.

“Going voluntarily is always better than being conscripted,” Liu Chang concluded. “At least you can prepare.”

“Not just Lockforce cultivators,” he added. “Even starforce cultivators end up on the battlefield once they’ve cultivated long enough. People usually arrange their assignments in advance.”

He leaned in, voice dropping. “Battlefields reward numbers. More people means more strength.”

“Except for Lockforce cultivators,” he said with a shrug. “Those people go as cannon fodder. Their missions are completely different.”

He straightened again. “By the way, Brother—what’s your name?”

Wang Jie said calmly, “I cultivate Lockforce.”

Liu Chang froze.

Then he turned and walked away without another word, muttering as he went, “Waste of time. If I’d known he was Lockforce trash, I wouldn’t have talked so much. He’ll die the moment he enters the battlefield.”

Wang Jie watched him go.

Around him, people were constantly gathering allies, recruiting, forming groups.

Liu Chang had only tried to pull him in because he assumed Wang Jie was lying. In this batch, there hadn’t been anyone else assigned to Ying Yang Battlefield—so Liu Chang believed Wang Jie had invented it to attach himself to a stronger group.

But even liars didn’t usually claim to cultivate Lockforce.

Wang Jie stayed quiet and waited.

Before long, the batch of starforce cultivators departed, leaving Ping Xiao nearly empty—just Wang Jie and the stewards stationed there.

A steward approached and asked a few questions. When Wang Jie gave his name, the steward’s expression changed instantly. He returned to the others, speaking in low voices.

Wang Jie wasn’t surprised.

Black-White Heaven had already circulated news about him—especially anything involving Wu Yun. People from Steward Hall would certainly know.

He only hoped they wouldn’t cause him trouble.

If they did, ordinary stewards weren’t enough to intimidate him.

With Shu Rang and Zhi Xing Xue behind him, in Black-White Heaven there were few people he didn’t dare face—except those he couldn’t beat.

The stewards whispered, then went still again. No one came to provoke him.

Days passed.

A massive ship approached in the distance.

When it docked with Ping Xiao, Lockforce cultivators began filing out—endless streams of them, all from Suo Xing Jian.

On Ping Xiao, aside from the stewards, the most noticeable person was Wang Jie.

Some of the Lockforce cultivators recognized him immediately.

None dared greet him.

They were Ten Seals cultivators, far beneath Wang Jie’s usual circle. They could only linger at a distance.

All one hundred thousand Lockforce cultivators were assembled on Ping Xiao.

Looking at them, it still didn’t feel like much.

The stewards’ attitude toward them was completely different from how they’d treated the starforce cultivators earlier.

A starforce cultivator, with enough luck and talent, might one day join Steward Hall or Discipline Hall.

A Lockforce cultivator almost never would.

In the stewards’ eyes, fewer than ten of these one hundred thousand would return alive.

They were cannon fodder.

The crowd of Lockforce cultivators waited in terrified silence, barely daring to breathe.

Then another ship arrived.

It was a nebula-class ship, but it was so battered that, at first glance, it looked like scrap—scarred, dented, and stained by war.

As it docked, the air grew heavier.

Departure time.

Wang Jie rose.

Under countless eyes, he quietly moved into the middle of the Lockforce crowd.

He didn’t want to stand out.

Battlefields weren’t unfamiliar to him. In a place like that, the more “special” you were, the faster you died.

No one spoke. Even the stewards remained silent.

A figure stepped down from the ship.

The stewards immediately bowed. “Greetings, Senior Sister Di.”

The woman nodded, walked past them, and stopped before the assembled Lockforce cultivators.

“My name is Di Zi,” she said. “I’m a Steward Hall steward, a Roaming-Star Battle Guard of the Ying Yang Battlefield.”

“I’m here to brief you on the battlefield.”

No pleasantries. No comfort.

Di Zi went straight into the explanation.

“The Ying Yang Battlefield lies at the boundary between the Fifth Star Chain and the Sixth Star Chain of Third Nebula. Our primary enemies are Third Nebula and Second Star Cloud.”

“It’s called the Ying Yang Battlefield because the territory we’re fighting over is called Ying Yang Domain.”

“Ying Yang Domain is critical to Black-White Heaven,” she continued. “It’s positioned beside the nebula stream of the Sixth Star Chain, and it serves as a bridgehead for our advance into Second Star Cloud and Third Nebula.”

“We must take it.”

She then explained how merit would be counted and distributed.

After that, her subordinates began issuing identity tokens.

Before entering the battlefield, each cultivator received a round jade pendant—an identity token. Like a storage ring, it required a blood bind.

Merit would be recorded through the pendant.

Every time you killed an enemy, you had to seize their identity pendant and submit it to the sect for verification.

If the enemy wasn’t dead, the pendant would show no change.

Only when the enemy died would the pendant display a crack.

And that crack couldn’t be faked. The sect could distinguish a true death-mark from damage caused by external force.

No one could counterfeit merit.

“The merit system is both simple and cruel,” Di Zi said.

“When you kill an enemy of your own level, your pendant can condense a drop of blood. For example, a Star-Breaking Realm cultivator who kills a Star-Breaking Realm enemy can condense one drop.”

“That drop comes from the enemy’s pendant.”

“But if you want to condense a second drop,” she continued, “your next target must be someone who has already condensed at least one drop.”

“If the enemy hasn’t condensed blood, their pendant still counts for merit verification—but it won’t increase your blood count.”

“As for promotion,” Di Zi said, voice hard, “ten drops promotes you to Battle Trooper. You’ll exchange your pendant.”

“Ten drops as a Battle Trooper promotes you to Battle Guard.”

“And it continues upward.”

“Battle Trooper. Battle Guard. Battle Elite. Battle General. War Marquis.”

She paused.

“Then War Lord.”