Chapter 160: The Newcomers Enter the Academy
On the day of tax tribute collection, sunlight cascaded from the sky, spreading across the autumn air in a golden haze.
At this moment, the Angry River was bustling with celestial ships traveling between the north and south, soaring over the shimmering water like golden-armored beasts cutting through the waves.
At the bow of these vessels, young masters from noble clans stood with hands clasped behind their backs, gazing at the riverbanks.
On either side of the shore, grain carts rumbled along the worn and uneven official roads, ceaselessly ferrying supplies to noble estates, immortal manors, and county granaries.
Alongside these carts, hundreds of impoverished farmers, clad in ragged garments, trudged forward with bound hands, their faces etched with exhaustion and numbness. Under the watchful eyes of constables, they were herded onto the high western slope of the riverbank.
“What are they doing?”
“Those are criminals who failed to pay their full tax tribute. The local authorities have sentenced them to a whipping.”
“How much tribute were they supposed to pay?”
“Only sixty percent of their harvest.”
“This land is vast and fertile. If they simply cultivated more and worked harder, wouldn’t paying the tribute be effortless? And yet, they refuse to part with even sixty percent? Insolent peasants.”
“Exactly. Cultivating land is hardly difficult. Even we cultivators do not lead lives of leisure. Every day is spent in relentless effort, never slacking.”
The celestial ships required a full day and night to traverse the three provinces. As they reached Jing Prefecture Crossing, they docked briefly, allowing passengers to embark and disembark.
The noble scions on board, feeling bored, naturally engaged in discussions about the scenes they witnessed along the shores.
At that moment, another caravan appeared on the official road, traveling in the opposite direction of the grain carts. Unlike the government’s supply carts, these were drawn by mules, their frames worn and patched repeatedly over time.
Accompanying the carts were common folk dressed in tattered clothes. Sturdy men led at the front while women, children, and the elderly followed behind. Their faces, darkened by the sun, bore starkly pale lips—a sign of prolonged hardship.
These carts carried neither sacks of grain nor valuables, only a haphazard collection of items—earthenware pots, farming tools, livestock, and even tattered bedding.
Not long after, another convoy appeared, traveling in the same direction as the first but markedly different in quality. This one was drawn by horses, and its people were dressed in finer garments. The last few individuals in the group even wore robes embroidered with simple patterns.
Intrigued, some noble scions speculated amongst themselves. The first group appeared to be an entire rural village migrating, while the second, given their better clothing, seemed to be landowning gentry from a larger city.
However, as to their destination, opinions varied.
An elderly scholar in white robes overheard their discussion and softly interjected.
“They are heading north, to Feng Prefecture.”
“Feng Prefecture? The one at the far northeastern border?”
“Precisely. Ever since tax tribute collection began this year, convoys like these have been appearing daily, with at least three or four groups passing through. They are all bound for Feng Prefecture.”
As the discussion continued, both convoys reached a relay station along the official road, where they were intercepted by government constables.
A burly constable, clad in armor, blocked their passage.
Moments later, a middle-aged man with a cloth headscarf stepped forward from the second convoy and handed over a small bundle. Only then did the constables permit them to pass.
Thanks to their fortune, the first convoy was also allowed to move forward.
Seeing this, the noble scions exchanged glances. “Isn’t Feng Prefecture a desolate place where even birds refuse to roost? The migration of a rural village makes sense, but why would landowning gentry abandon their estates?”
“Did you not witness it with your own eyes?”
“How bizarre. Could it be that Feng Prefecture is exempt from tax tribute?”
“Not entirely, but its required tribute is minimal—barely a drop in the ocean compared to the other eight provinces. And for a thousand years, the purpose of migration has remained unchanged: survival. People will always go where they can continue living.”
At that moment, a sedan chair appeared on the official road, escorted by a large contingent of constables.
Upon reaching the relay station’s tea pavilion, a stout county magistrate, barely five feet tall, burst forth from the chair.
With resounding slaps, he struck the burly constable across the face, the echoes reverberating along the riverbank.
The noble scions leaned over the ship’s railing, curious about the commotion.
Before long, the checkpoint at this crucial gateway between Central Prefecture and Feng Prefecture was placed under strict lockdown. Rows of wooden spike barriers were erected across the official road.
From that moment forward, any displaced individuals attempting to pass were swiftly driven back by constables wielding long sabers.
Even the affluent, who previously paid bribes to pass, were kicked to the ground when they attempted to do the same.
The stout county magistrate stood nearby, his expression dark, his gaze twitching with suppressed fury.
The Great Xia Imperial Court had issued no official edict forbidding the movement of its citizens across the nine provinces. In the past, there was never a need for such a decree, as every province suffered equally under taxation.
But after this year’s tax tribute collection, he noticed that entire villages and clans from his jurisdiction in Jiyang County had begun migrating en masse.
He did not know what had changed in Feng Prefecture over the past few days, but he was not as foolish as the ignorant fools beneath him.
Extorting bribes at this checkpoint seemed like an easy gain. However, if his taxpayers left, where would he collect the required tribute?
In Central Prefecture, noble families reigned supreme. If he failed to fulfill his tax quota and provoked the wrath of an Immortal, he would lose more than just his position—his head would roll!
Thus, he could not afford to wait for an imperial decree. Nor did he have time for bureaucracy. Without hesitation, he personally rushed to the checkpoint and ordered it sealed shut.
At that moment, a sudden gust stirred the river, sending waves crashing against the shores with a mournful howl.
Witnessing this spectacle, the County Prefect of Jiyang and his subordinates immediately fell to their knees, solemnly bidding farewell to the Immortal.
A streak of mystical light ascended from beneath the immortal vessel docked at the river’s edge. It gathered at the prow before vanishing into the vast sky, propelling the ship forward.
After a full day and night of travel, some scions of noble families disembarked along the way, while others boarded. By journey’s end, the remaining passengers arrived at Shengjing, the capital of Great Xia…
At this time, Shengjing was already in a fervent uproar over the upcoming selection of new disciples for the Heavenly Script Academy.
Carriages from across the land converged upon the city, clogging the main thoroughfares. The taverns lining the streets were ablaze with lanterns, the air alive with the melodies of zithers and flutes, while songstresses danced with mesmerizing grace.
The noble families of the capital spared no effort in hosting grand feasts, extending invitations to the incoming disciples of Heavenly Script Academy, drenching the autumn breeze with the scent of fine wine.
“How many have reached the Peak of the Lower Three Stages this year?”
“Three.”
“Again, three?”
“The Lu Clan of Yunzhou had one last year, and this year, it’s Lu Han Yan, the younger sister of Lu Qing Qiu. Strange how the talent for cultivation in their family seems to favor the women.”
“And the second?”
“From the Fang Clan of Central Prefecture, their third young master. He had already reached the Peak of the Lower Three Stages last year, but his family postponed his enrollment, likely to avoid the shadow cast by Chu He.”
“Chu He…”
At the mention of this name, the patrons of the tavern clicked their tongues.
This name once burned dazzlingly bright, yet after the passing of autumn, it had faded into silence.
“And the third?”
“Also from Yunzhou—the young master of the Pu Yang Family, Pu Yang Xing. Though the Pu Yang Family has remained obscure in recent years, producing a talent who reached the Peak of the Lower Three Stages before coming of age is still commendable. His name, ‘Xing,’ appears to carry the family’s hopes for revival.”
Hearing this, some of the capital’s young nobles lifted their wine cups, their excitement dampened upon realizing all three hailed from prestigious immortal lineages.
By midday, an endless procession of sedan chairs made its way toward Heavenly Script Academy.
As was tradition, whether court officials or royal kin, all reveled in the chance to forge bonds with these outstanding prodigies.
Yet this time, Wei Li, now out of favor, was absent, while Prince Chong arrived alone, his interest seeming lackluster.
Especially upon reaching the White Jade Terrace, his expression darkened, as if lost in thought.
Soon, the grand Initiation Ceremony commenced. The newly inducted scions, now clad in the robes of Heavenly Script Academy, gathered upon the White Jade Terrace of Ascension.
Standing at the forefront were two men and one woman—Lu Han Yan from Yunzhou, Pu Yang Xing from Yunzhou, and Fang Jin Cheng from Central Prefecture. All three were dressed in pristine white robes, swords fastened at their waists.
Behind them stood the disciples from various other prefectures, all at the Essence Refinement Stage.
Seeing this scene, the spectators felt a wave of nostalgia wash over them, as though reliving a dream from the First Year of Tai Chu.
Then, many among the crowd found their gazes drawn to the farthest corner of the high platform—specifically, to the southeastern side of the White Jade Terrace.
There stood a group of young disciples, eight in total, both men and women. Their attire was humbler, their expressions cautious.
They all hailed from Feng Prefecture.
Among them, only three had the cultivation to be noteworthy—Xiang Fu, daughter of the Cinnabar Water Prefecture Magistrate; Liu Jian An, son of the Feng Prefecture Inspector; and Cong Yi, daughter of the Returning Clouds Prefecture Magistrate.
The remaining five were there by virtue of family ties—kin of military men who had secured a place through Great Xia’s designated quotas. Some barely reached the Minor Illumination Stage, while the weakest among them had yet to even Awaken the True Spirit.
Despite the prestige of Heavenly Script Academy, it had always accepted such disciples, though they rarely garnered much attention.
After all, the world understood that the Lower Three Stages and the Upper Five Realms were entirely different. To ascend beyond required copious amounts of spirit pills and spirit stones.
In essence, cultivation was a privilege of noble lineages.
Yet, today, an unexpected phenomenon unfolded.
The youths from Feng Prefecture suddenly noticed that the high-ranking figures on the platform—even the five esteemed Hall Masters of the Inner Court—had turned their piercing gazes upon them.
“Why… why are they looking at us?”
“They’re not looking at us…”
Xiang Fu murmured, her voice trailing into a whisper.
As the Initiation Ceremony concluded, the outer courtyard of the academy buzzed with life.
Lu Han Yan, dressed in a flowing snow-trimmed gauze gown, had barely stepped down from the White Jade Terrace when she spotted Lu Qing Qiu approaching with a group of young women.
“Han Yan.”
“Elder Sister.”
Lu Qing Qiu gave her a measured look. “You’ve reached the Peak of the Lower Three Stages?”
Lu Han Yan nodded. “I thought I wouldn’t make it in time, but Father ultimately used a spiritual ore core from one of our mines to aid my breakthrough.”
At this, Lu Qing Qiu pursed her lips, then gently patted her younger sister’s shoulder.
Though the Lu Clan thrived as spirit ore merchants in Yunzhou, their family’s aptitude for cultivation was merely above average among the great clans of Nine Provinces.
Over the years, she and her sister had been among the few in their family to exhibit promising talent, thus bearing the weight of the family’s aspirations.
If one of them could enter the Inner Court of one of the Seven Great Immortal Sects, or secure a powerful husband, it would be an immense boon to their clan.
But as fate would have it, she herself had failed to reach such heights.
Now, the burden fell upon her younger sister’s shoulders.
At that moment, Pu Yang Xing, who had been standing on the stage earlier, stepped forward and respectfully bowed to Lu Qing Qiu.
“Pu Yang Xing greets Senior Sister.”
“Junior Brother Pu Yang, welcome to the academy.”
“Many thanks, Senior Sister. I merely came to pay my respects and shall take my leave now.”
With that, Pu Yang Xing cupped his hands in farewell and turned to head towards the Field of Enlightenment, where he encountered Fang Jin Cheng along the way.
The two locked eyes, the air between them cold and charged, a stark contrast to the cordiality Pu Yang Xing had shown to Lu Qing Qiu. A faint scent of rivalry lingered in the air.
It seemed that the struggle within the Inner Court had already begun the moment these new disciples set foot inside.
At this time, four disciples from the Office of Affairs were sweeping the Field of Enlightenment. Since autumn had arrived, fallen leaves were plentiful, and with the new disciples having joined the academy, it was necessary to clean the grounds regularly.
“This will pass in a few days.”
“At the start, everyone is like this—rising early, diligently training, striving forward with the belief that they are peerless talents, destined for greatness.”
“Then, someone will surge ahead, leaving the rest in the dust, breaking their Dao Hearts, and peace shall return.”
As they murmured among themselves, Pu Yang Xing and Fang Jin Cheng had already seated themselves, swiftly entering a meditative state.
Lu Qing Qiu gazed at the Field of Enlightenment and spoke softly, unable to suppress her thoughts.
“The Pu Yang Family has remained quiet for some time. It is said their bloodline’s cultivation talent has grown increasingly scarce. Who would have thought that they would produce a young cultivator who has already reached the Peak of the Lower Three Stages before even reaching twenty?”
Beside her, Lou Si Yi whispered, “He seems interested in forming ties with your Lu Clan.”
“That is only natural. The Pu Yang Family has declined, and I’ve heard even their branch families are facing rejection from various sides. They need alliances.”
Lu Han Yan, standing beside them, could not help but murmur, “Elder Sister, both Pu Yang Xing and Fang Jin Cheng seem to be my rivals.”
Lu Qing Qiu turned to look at her. “What is it?”
“Father told me before arriving that I must enter the Inner Court. Naturally, I need to understand Pu Yang Xing and Fang Jin Cheng better. Fang Jin Cheng was always an extraordinary talent—he should have joined the academy alongside you, but now I hear he has already gathered Three Streams of Spiritual Light. And as for Pu Yang Xing, he is no less a prodigy.”
“A genius… and what of it?”
Lu Qing Qiu’s voice trailed off as she turned her gaze towards the depths of Mount Ni, where the vast sea of golden autumn leaves stretched endlessly.
Back then, Chu He had entered the academy with great renown, bearing the title of the Chu Family’s Second Son, hailed as a genius among geniuses.
Yet, in the end, they all came to understand—what they called ‘genius’ was nothing more than the threshold to meet that person.
“Elder Sister?”
Lu Qing Qiu looked at her sister and spoke calmly, “Tonight, I shall try to arrange a meeting so you can witness a true genius.”
Lou Si Yi glanced at her. “Do you think he will come?”
“A free meal—he shouldn’t refuse.”
“That is true…”
Lu Han Yan hesitated before speaking, “But the Princess of Prince Chong’s Mansion, Zhao Yun Yue, has invited me to a banquet tonight…”
Lu Qing Qiu cast her sister a sidelong glance, her lips curling into a cold smile. “Zhao Yun Yue? No matter. We shall dine at Hongding Tower instead. I will host.”
With that, the Lu Clan’s eldest young lady returned to her courtyard, penned a letter, and sent it to the Office of Affairs.
Disciples of the Outer Court could not enter the Inner Court, and any correspondence between them had to be delivered through the Office of Affairs.
As fate would have it, the messenger from the Office of Affairs also had a letter meant for Ji You, so he took his waist token and ventured into the mountains, passing through the vast Sea of Ten Thousand Acres of Forest.
Meanwhile, towards the west of the overlapping Six Peaks of the Inner Court, within a flourishing Purple Bamboo Zen Forest, a sharp-eyed young man with sword-like brows sat in deep meditation, unmoving for a long time.
Nearby, some disciples from the Five Halls of the Inner Academy, who were resting, could not help but turn to observe him. They whispered amongst themselves, watching the swirling surge of aura and flowing spiritual radiance around him.
His refined appearance resembled that of a scholar, exuding elegance rather than sharpness.
But no one could forget—he was the one who had slain eighteen Mystic Enlightenment cultivators, who had defied fate and cut down a Dao Fusion Stage expert, the lone warrior who had carved a path through Night City Mountain.
Most importantly, he was now the youngest Clan Patriarch within Azure Clouds Dominion, despite standing alone.
“I heard that because of him, Feng Prefecture’s tax tribute was only one-tenth this year?”
“Indeed. Now that the Ji Clan has risen, with no other immortal sects or noble families in Feng Prefecture, he alone dictates the tax tribute.”
“Those who sought to establish immortal estates in Feng Prefecture likely never imagined that an unknown wandering rogue cultivator would emerge, bypass the normal quotas to enter the academy, slaughter Chu He, and establish a noble clan…”
“Forget about those estates—even among us in the Heavenly Script Academy, who could have foreseen this?”
“One-tenth tax tribute—he truly has no fear.”
“Perhaps, but not entirely.”
“Oh?”
“He didn’t pocket all of that tax tribute. He distributed some to the newly arrived immortal estates. It seems there is still some concern. However, the allocation was uneven, and no one knows the basis for the division. A distant cousin of mine is in Feng Prefecture, but he refuses to say a word about it.”
“Regardless of the tax and governance matters, Ji You’s presence has become even more profound…”
As murmurs filled the air, Ji You slowly opened his eyes, golden radiance retreating into their depths as his aura gradually steadied.
He exhaled softly, scanning his surroundings, and the hushed whispers around him quickly faded into silence.
He had already returned from Feng Prefecture five days ago. Ban Yang Shu, Wen Zheng Xin, and Bai Ru Long had also come back alongside him.
Returning to the capital with them was Kuang Cheng.
Senior Sister Pei remained at Immortal Worship Mountain Manor to assist Qiu Ru with her Spirit Awakening, while Old Qiu took residence at He Zhang’s estate, overseeing the collection of tax tributes. This year, aside from the shares owed to the imperial court and the Immortal Sect, they only took a tenth. Half of it was used as a stipend for the struggling, and the other half was reserved for next year’s land cultivation and sowing.
Over this period, Ji You focused on three things. First, he spent time in the library, poring over the General Compendium of Daoist Laws, familiarizing himself with the insights of past sages from the Heavenly Script Academy regarding the Laws of the Heavenly Dao.
Secondly, he attended lectures in the grand hall, listening to Inner Court Instructors expound on Dao enlightenment, the application of laws, and their theoretical interpretations. Compared to the Outer Court’s self-reliant training method, this was the true foundation of the Inner Court within the Seven Great Immortal Sects.
Lastly, he entered Mount Void for seclusion, directly observing the evolution of the Heavenly Dao. However, despite five visits, he had yet to see Yan Shu Yi. He knew she was in Realm-Breaking Seclusion, determined not to emerge until she reached the Boundless Martial Stage.
Her mindset was much like his—both were striving for greater strength, wary of the unseen undercurrents shifting in the world. Yet, even knowing she was in seclusion, Ji You still found himself worrying after not seeing her for so long.
Just then, a disciple from the Office of Affairs entered the Purple Bamboo Zen Forest.
“Junior Brother Ji, you have letters.”
“Hmm?”
Ji You took the letters, finding two in total—one from the Outer Court and the other from Nanhua City, signed by Ding Wan Qiu.
As the esteemed Mirror Master of Spirit Sword Mountain, it wouldn’t do for her frequent letters to a disciple of the Heavenly Script Academy to be discovered. Thus, all her letters were sent from Nanhua City, either by Ding Yao or Zhuo Wan Qiu.
The Spirit Sword he had received before the Autumn Duel had been sent the same way.
A letter signed by Ding Wan Qiu was typically one sent by Ding Yao, while those signed by Zhuo Yao were from Zhuo Wan Qiu.
Ji You unsealed the letter, finding the opening line blunt as ever:
[Audacious stranger.]
The Little Mirror Master was truly an arrogant one.
[Audacious stranger, I am at a critical juncture in my Realm-Breaking and cannot exit midway. Behave yourself.]
[Realm-Breaking differs from Dao enlightenment. I must rid myself of distractions and make my Dao heart clear. I cannot project my spiritual sense into the Spirit Mirror, so I will not be at Mount Void until I succeed.]
[After breaking through, I will go on a journey. If by chance I visit Shengjing, I will meet with you briefly before leaving like the wind.]
Ji You chuckled. [I get it.]
That last sentence, if translated plainly, meant—[Once I break through, I will specifically go find you to play.]
Holding the letter, he continued reading, but soon found himself holding his breath.
[If I happen to visit Shengjing, I want to see the things Yuan Cai Wei has seen.]
The letter ended abruptly, just like her personality. To sum it up: [Do not disturb my seclusion. Prepare what I want to see.]
Ji You’s lips twitched. [She’s still stuck on that?]
Seeing the things Yuan Cai Wei had seen?
It seemed his future training would have to focus more on tempering his body.
Next, he opened Lu Qing Qiu’s letter. The message was short and to the point—she was hosting a banquet at Hongding Tower at the hour of Xu (7-9 PM), inviting a few close friends along with this year’s new disciples, and wanted him to join.
To Ji You, the message boiled down to six words: [Free meal, come quickly.]
He carefully tucked away the letters before turning his gaze toward the Purple Bamboo Zen Forest.
Most disciples within were seated in meditation, their bodies shrouded in spiritual light, their expressions peaceful and tranquil. Yet, upon witnessing this scene, Ji You frowned.
Most of the disciples who entered the Inner Court of the Heavenly Script Academy—like himself—had sensed the Heavenly Tome. Every day, disciples used the Heavenly Tome to cultivate here in the Purple Bamboo Zen Forest.
And yet…
From the very beginning, in Mount Void, he had only ever seen Yan Shu Yi. Not a single other disciple had appeared.
This doubt had lingered in his mind for some time. Previously, while in the Outer Court, he hadn’t thought about it often, so he never delved into it deeply.
But now, he was certain—the Heavenly Tome he had comprehended was fundamentally different from what most others had encountered.
Yet, Ji You felt somewhat reassured. He had once asked Ban Yang Shu about it.
Ban Yang Shu had described the Heavenly Tome as an endless, radiant void, vast and boundless, containing hidden laws of the Heavenly Dao—and nothing else.
[More or less the same…]
Ji You murmured.
[So mine just has a mountain, some laws of the Heavenly Dao tangled up like knotted threads, and a haughty little fairy with jade-like feet.]
He was already at the Mystic Enlightenment Stage—what else could he do? Admit he had gone astray?
No matter. His spiritual essence was shattered anyway. He’d just have to make do. What other choice did he have?
With that thought, Ji You rose and descended the mountain alone, walking through the Sea of Ten Thousand Acres of Forest.
(This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation)