Chapter 168: The Wonders of Feng Prefecture
The envoys entrusted with the mission of reaching out to the Demon Clan were, naturally, not those of the Immortal Favoring Faction, such as Prince Chong and Wei Li, whose hearts were weighed down by self-serving desires. Such men were never to be relied upon.
According to Kuang Cheng, those selected for the delegation were officials who had once been ostracized and suppressed by the Immortal Favoring Faction, only to be reinstated under the new governance.
Among them was an elder named Wang Ming Chang, his hair as white as frost, his body frail, a candle flickering in the wind. Thirty years prior, he had been the Warden of Yun Prefecture, but his protests against the tax tribute system, which had led to countless corpses lining the streets, resulted in his dismissal. As he returned to his hometown in disgrace, his right leg was broken by vengeful hands. For thirty bitter years, he had endured pain and resentment, waiting for justice.
Many among the delegation shared his fate.
Their hearts burned with the same conviction as Ji You’s famed verse: “Since ancient times, who has not met death? Let my heart’s crimson blaze illuminate the annals of history.” Fearless of death, some of them had already long since abandoned their attachment to life.
The capital city of Shengjing often spoke of Ji You in hushed whispers, and though these envoys were mere mortals, even they had heard his name. Yet, from their perspective, trust in cultivators was hard to foster. To them, cultivators were all alike—aloof and untrustworthy. Such distrust was rooted in the thousand-year-old power structure of Azure Cloud World.
That night, amidst the shimmering moonlight and flowing wine, He Xing City hosted a grand banquet. The noble families indulged in revelry within their jade halls and flower-laden pavilions. Though the Immortal Sect’s young prodigies maintained an air of detachment, their expressions cold and impassive, their hearts secretly rejoiced at the opulence of Yun Prefecture’s hospitality.
For the noble clans of Yun Prefecture, whose wealth stemmed from spiritual ore, their generosity knew no bounds. Their feasts far surpassed those of the other nine prefectures. Aside from rare and exotic delicacies infused with celestial energy, even the music and dance performances were unparalleled, enchanting the senses in ways none had experienced before.
The banquet stretched into the early hours, only then did the young immortals take their leave, drifting away as if they were spirits themselves. The disciples of the Three Southern Sects departed earlier and found the remaining guests in the inn leisurely enjoying their morning meal, while the Northern Prodigies arrived in groups shortly after.
With dawn breaking, the envoy’s journey resumed as planned. Their path now led them northwest to Feng Prefecture, where the land grew barren and desolate.
Unlike the towering cities and exquisite architecture of Yun Prefecture, Feng Prefecture was but a collection of mud-brick houses and thatched-roof huts. Even their courtyards were crude enclosures of dried branches, scarcely worthy of being called fences.
The stark contrast between neighboring lands was jarring—a clear division between prosperity and destitution.
“This land is so rich in minerals that it has secured an unshakable place among the Nine Prefectures,” mused Jiang Yan, a disciple of Dao Seeking Sect, as she sat in a carriage alongside Jiang Yue Rou of Mountain and Sea Pavilion and Yan Qiu Bai of Spirit Sword Mountain. “Truly, a gift from the heavens. Compared to it, Feng Prefecture is as insignificant as dust.”
“Mm. That spirit wine last night was of exceptional quality,” Yan Qiu Bai agreed with a rare smile. “Even I have seldom tasted its like.”
Though cultivators were trained to maintain detachment from worldly desires, they were still human—especially these young women. When encountering something novel, it was only natural for them to discuss it.
Jiang Yan reached into her sleeve and retrieved a Spiritual Stone. A mere thought channeled her Spiritual Consciousness, drawing forth a stream of concentrated energy into her body. “It’s true that goods from their place of origin are always superior,” she murmured, “but even in Yun Prefecture, such high-quality Spiritual Stones must be worth a fortune. Their noble families are truly generous.”
Yan Qiu Bai chuckled. “Oh, that’s not all. Did you not notice the Wang Clan’s heir at last night’s feast? It seemed to me that he harbored some interest in you, Sister Yan.”
Jiang Yan smirked. “His cultivation was average, his looks were unremarkable, and yet he dared to dream.”
“Aren’t you worried your family will urge you to find a Dao Companion?” Jiang Yue Rou teased.
“They’ve asked before,” Jiang Yan admitted. “But I have my standards. At the very least, he must be pleasing to the eye. After all, during Dual Cultivation, one must have something agreeable to look at, else where would be the joy?”
For the noble clans, unbroken lineage was the foundation of their existence. Even their scions were not exempt. Whether for alliances or to produce talented offspring, it was a duty for both men and women alike.
Jiang Yue Rou suddenly perked up. “Speaking of appearances, there is someone in the envoy with striking features.”
“Oh? Who?”
“That Mystic Enlightenment Stage cultivator—Ji You, I believe. I was in seclusion for too long and only heard his name in conversation last night.”
Yan Qiu Bai’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Ah, that one. Before we departed, I caught a few glimpses of him. He certainly stands out.”
Jiang Yan arched a brow. “A pleasing appearance does spark my interest, but tell me, have you ever heard of any noble clan within Azure Cloud World bearing the surname ‘Ji’?”
“…?”
“Are you saying he was admitted to the sect through a quota?”
Jiang Yan nodded. “Most likely.”
Yan Qiu Bai hesitated. “Even so, to have reached the Upper Five Realms, his talent is noteworthy.”
“But he is only at the initial stage of Mystic Enlightenment, still weak,” Jiang Yan countered. “Had he been of noble lineage, I might have considered him. But a quota admission? What value does he hold? Surely, one cannot choose based on looks alone—that would make us no different from mortal women.”
As their conversation drifted on, Jiang Yue Rou’s attention was suddenly caught by a scene outside the window. She turned her head, watching intently, before murmuring, “Something strange is happening.”
The other two paused and followed her gaze, only to see an unsettling sight.
They were now at the border between Yun Prefecture and Feng Prefecture. Across the land stretched an endless array of crude wooden barriers, their sharpened stakes jutting out in defensive formation. Every road—even the most rugged and uneven—was blocked in this manner.
Their eyes followed the scene, and suddenly, they noticed a group of ragged mortals clambering over a low ridge, making their way from the west to the east. Leading the group were a few strong men, followed by children and women, all bearing expressions of fear and urgency.
“What are they doing?”
“Are they… refugees?”
Upon the lofty peaks, the immortals rarely deigned to concern themselves with the affairs of the mortal world below. Especially those among them who were celestial prodigies, secluded in cultivation year after year, untouched by the mundane strife of men.
Yet even within the confines of a simple carriage, officials bore witness to the unfolding of a peculiar sight. As the common folk crossed over the mountains, they seemed to shed the weight upon their shoulders, their pallid faces lifting toward the first light of dawn with a sense of liberation.
Here lay a stark contrast between the people of Cloud Province and those of Feng Province. The folk of Feng Province, their backs bent to the land, their faces darkened by the toil of plowing fields beneath the relentless sun. In contrast, the denizens of Cloud Province, who spent their lives entombed within the bowels of the earth, rarely glimpsed the celestial sky.
Such strange occurrences were common along the journey. Bands of vagrants attempting to cross the border, only to be seized by the local magistrates of Cloud Province. Others, more fortunate, managing to step into Feng Province’s domain just before the constables could lay their hands upon them. Those officials, though red-faced with frustration, could not hide the envy in their eyes as they watched the ragged refugees vanish into the distance, vanishing into the barren lands beyond. Resigned, they turned away, their sighs heavy with helplessness.
Among these spectacles, one remained especially bewildering. It was at a village along their path where they glimpsed an immortal at work.
Beneath the shade of an old willow tree, a cultivator at the Essence Refinement Stage wielded spiritual energy to control a massive, jet-black drill. With a forceful thrust, he drove the metal spike into the earth, carving deep into the land’s embrace. As the drill spiraled downward, it churned the soil, casting clumps of dirt skyward. Moments later, when his strength waned, another cultivator stepped in without hesitation, seamlessly continuing the task.
Before long, what they unearthed was no longer mere dirt but thick, murky water.
At this sight, the surrounding farmers fell to their knees in unison, foreheads striking the ground with resounding force, their gratitude echoing in every bow.
Ji You observed this in silence before murmuring, “Astounding… They have combined the Poison Dragon Immortal Drill with sword techniques to carve into the land.”
Kuang Cheng twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Is this not… simply digging a well?”
Ji You’s lips curled ever so slightly. “That is but its common name. The celestial world does not speak so crudely. I had the Feng Province Magistrate conduct a survey of uncultivated yet fertile lands. They are to be converted to fields that can yield three harvests a year. Irrigation is of utmost importance, and these villagers are indeed blessed.”
“No wonder they are digging wells.”
Ji You’s gaze remained placid as it drifted beyond the carriage window. “You see, there exist cultivators who understand they will never ascend beyond the mortal realm. And yet, because of their spiritual prowess, their hearts are not free of desire. They seek fulfillment through external means. As the saying goes, ‘If the master is fierce, so too will be the disciples.’”
Kuang Cheng pondered this, his gaze following Ji You’s line of sight. “Then, what do you mean by emotional fulfillment?”
“Greed and vanity are equal in their power to satisfy. In principle, they are interchangeable. To sate greed, one needs material wealth. To feed vanity, one needs admiration. If we cannot reward them with silver, then we must bestow upon them applause.”
Ji You muttered, “They call themselves the chosen disciples of the great sects, looking down upon all beneath them. But tell me, have any of them ever been so revered as these cultivators, once destined to be mere footnotes in the grand tale of this world?”
Kuang Cheng pressed his lips together. “So Feng Province will fully commit to agricultural development?”
“Unlike Cloud Province, which holds vast reserves of spiritual stones, Feng Province has no such fortune. This is the only path forward. If the people prosper, I too shall gain. Even the disciples of the Immortal Manors will feel content. We shall secure stability first, and then consider how best to elevate our industries.”
“…There is still room to advance?”
Ji You turned to him with a knowing smile. “Fortify our walls, store ample grain, ensure growth remains unbroken… and then, expand our reach. After all, farming will never be as swift as taking by force.”
Just then, as the caravan passed through the second village, they beheld another sight—cultivators using their spiritual energy to command stalks of wild grass, weaving them into rooftops to mend dilapidated homes.
Both Cloud Province and Central Prefecture bordered Feng Province, and though laws forbade the migration of common folk, secret paths had already been carved out over the months. Those who managed to flee needed shelter before anything else.
Kuang Cheng watched in silence for a long time before speaking. “And what sort of sword technique is this?”
Ji You shook his head gently. “This is no sword technique. It falls within the realm of spellcraft—it is called Grassweave Roofing. But among themselves, they would never use such a term. After all, a person’s dignity must be upheld, especially when traveling beyond their own domain.”
By then, the caravan had wound its way northeast through Feng Province, arriving at yet another village, where it came to a halt.
Cultivators could subsist without food, but the envoys among them were not so fortunate. Without sustenance, they would not last the journey.
Jiang Yan, Yan Qiu Bai, and Jiang Yue Rou disembarked together. Having recently discussed Ji You, their gazes instinctively turned toward the carriage behind them, stealing a glance at the infamous man whose beauty was said to bring calamity.
Yet, before they could dwell on the thought, a rustling sound filled the air.
Footsteps—heavy and slow.
They turned and saw a group of elderly officials emerging from the carriages, their figures stiff, their expressions unreadable. Then, as one, they turned toward the road behind them.
For the entirety of their journey, these officials had remained silent, watching the waves of refugees entering Feng Province, witnessing the joint excavation of wells, the reforging of rooftops, the transformation of the land beneath their feet. And in that long silence, something within them had shifted.
Now, at this moment, they raised their hands—dozens of them moving in perfect accord—and bowed deeply.
Among the grand clans, the descendants pursued the path of immortality.
Only the poor chose to govern.
Beyond their official titles, these individuals had once been the most humble of common folk, struggling to survive under the vast sky.
Jiang Yan was momentarily startled, her gaze shifting to the rear. There, she saw the one whom these people were worshipping—Ji You. This scene caught the attention of other young prodigies as well, their eyes inevitably drawn to him.
[Emotional fulfillment is truly terrifying,] Jiang Yan mused. [It can nearly make one forget they are a ruthless warrior by trade.]
Had Cao Jin Song been present, his chest would likely have burst from frustration.
Ji You responded to the reverence with a slight nod, then turned away, striding off like a lone swordsman surveying the boundless expanse of Feng Prefecture.
“Ji You?”
“You mean that peerless talent, the unmatched sword cultivator of the Heavenly Script Academy, one as ethereal as a banished immortal?”
“No, he did not enter through quota admission.”
Among the Three Southern Sects, only Gong Shu Chou had not gone into seclusion. He now sat beside a carriage, his demeanor inscrutable, speaking slowly to his junior sister, Yan Qiu Bai…
Beneath the temporary tea pavilion, Jiang Yan pondered what she had just witnessed. From the distance, Yan Qiu Bai returned, speaking in hushed excitement with Jiang Yue Rou. The sight piqued Jiang Yan’s curiosity, prompting her to approach.
“What is the subject of such an impassioned discussion?” Jiang Yan’s voice carried amusement. “Have you forgotten that the Dao Heart must remain still as a placid lake?”
Yan Qiu Bai lifted her head, her eyes bright with discovery. “Sister Jiang Yan, I have confirmed it—Ji You was not admitted through the quota admission.”
“Does the illustrious Azure Cloud World truly house a Ji clan among its noble families?”
“No, he is but a mere wandering rogue cultivator from the countryside…”
“??????”
Jiang Yan was dumbfounded. After a long pause, she finally reacted. “Rogue cultivation is a capital offense. How could such a man be admitted to an immortal sect?”
Yan Qiu Bai blinked. “They say that when he was discovered, he had yet to reach twenty, yet he had already attained Peak Lower Three Stages.”
“??!?”
Yan Qiu Bai recounted what she had learned from Gong Shu Chou—that an instructor from Heavenly Script Academy had gone to recruit disciples and witnessed a spiritual aura piercing the heavens.
Jiang Yan, born into a noble family, had experienced firsthand the arduous journey through the Lower Three Stages. She had also seen how the younger generation struggled through spirit awakening, guided by elders.
Some children, dull of mind, could be stuck at this step for years, their spiritual light never even flickering, requiring the aid of elixirs and spiritual stones. Even noble scions, with endless resources and the best cultivation aids, would find reaching Peak Lower Three Stages a formidable feat.
Thus, upon hearing Yan Qiu Bai’s account, Jiang Yan found it utterly unbelievable.
That a lone man, without clan or backing, could cultivate to such a level and enter the academy by breaking convention—it was the kind of tale she had only heard in folk operas.
Jiang Yan remained in shock for a long time before murmuring, “A rogue cultivator from the countryside… that makes him even lower than those admitted through quota. At least the latter hail from bureaucratic or military families, while he has nothing.”
Yan Qiu Bai opened her mouth to refute. “But he has a noble family now.”
“…Did you not just say he was a rogue cultivator?”
“He is from Feng Prefecture, right here. Recently, he entered the Inner Court and established his own noble family. He even reduced Feng Prefecture’s tax tribute to a mere ten percent, which has led to an influx of commoners from Yun Prefecture and Central Prefecture. That’s the scene we just witnessed…”
Feng Prefecture had long been known as barren, devoid of noble families. This was common knowledge.
Yet, it was also well known that noble families from other regions had come to establish immortal manors, extracting offerings from the land.
Jiang Yan frowned. “If he formed a local noble family and controlled the tax tribute, why did the established immortal manors not stop him?”
“They did. He then slew eighteen Mystic Enlightenment Stage cultivators and even cut down a Dao Fusion Stage expert. Carrying their severed heads, he strode into the Feng Prefecture Seat, drenched in blood.”
“??!”
Jiang Yan stared at Yan Qiu Bai as if to ask: Are you even listening to yourself?
Secluding oneself in the mountains for cultivation was their lifelong practice.
A year, three years, five springs and autumns—every time they emerged from isolation, they would hear news of the world. Yet never had she encountered anything as absurd as today.
That a rogue cultivator could be admitted into the academy was barely conceivable. But to have slaughtered countless of his own realm, and even slain a superior?
The very notion defied all reason.
Beyond the sheer impossibility of crossing realms to kill, Ji You’s appearance made it even more bewildering. By all accounts, he was a mild-mannered scholar. How could such a man be a ruthless killer?
Yet, as Yan Qiu Bai spoke with absolute seriousness, Jiang Yan turned toward the carriage, her gaze settling on that solitary figure.
Jiang Yue Rou suddenly lifted her head. “I recall—when I emerged from seclusion a year ago, I heard rumors of a rogue cultivator entering Heavenly Script Academy. So it was him.”
Yan Qiu Bai nodded.
“No, wait,” Jiang Yan suddenly recalled something. “Wasn’t Chu He, the second son of the Chu Clan, admitted that same year? He possesses the Seven Apertures Exquisite Physique, innately attuned to the Dao. Moreover, his elder brother, Chu Xian, is a personal disciple of the Mystic Origin Immortal Palace. How could Ji You have been chosen for the Inner Court instead of him?”
“In the Autumn Duel, Chu He fought Ji You but once. In a single exchange, both his hands were severed.”
“……”
There are those who do not look fierce, yet upon hearing their tales, one cannot help but shudder.
Like one who appears mild when clothed, but when stripped, is revealed to be a fearsome beast.
Based on Yan Qiu Bai’s account, this refined, scholarly man had fought against fate itself, carving a bloody path against all odds.
As Gong Shu Chou continued to unravel the tale, even Jiang Chen Feng and Huo Hong furrowed their brows in contemplation.
Yet among them, only Xie Chen Yu, Chu Bu Tian, Qian Jun, and the disciples of Heavenly Script Academy, Shi Jun Hao and Xiao Han Yan, remained unfazed.
For in the early years of Tai Yuan, they had not secluded themselves for long periods. The latter two, in particular, had witnessed Ji You carve his way into the Inner Court firsthand.
Yet there was one matter left unspoken—his inheritance of the physique. Gong Shu Chou had never mentioned it.
For after the Autumn Duel, he had been summoned to the Cloud Summit Palace by the Mirror Master. Upon descending from the mountain, Ding Yao had personally warned him to keep this knowledge secret.
Though he did not understand the reason, Gong Shu Chou had solved the mystery on his own.
Ding Yao, the junior sister, seemed to harbor intentions toward Ji You, desiring to continue his lineage herself. Otherwise, she would not have deliberately avoided the Mirror Master’s explicit instructions on this matter.
“A sword of the Mystic Enlightenment cleaving through the Dao Fusion realm—it sounds formidable, but it is hardly worthy of boasting.”
Jiang Chen Feng raised his teacup. “The Dao Fusion cultivators of those so-called immortal manors rely on bitter years of consuming elixirs to break through. Their bodies are already withered and aged; their cultivation is filled with impurities. To claim a cross-realm kill against such an opponent—I find nothing surprising about it.”
Jiang Yan looked at her younger cousin. “Even so, the Dao Fusion realm remains superior to Mystic Enlightenment.”
“Cousin, you may not know, but when I was at Mystic Enlightenment, I once defeated a senior brother of our sect who had already stepped into the Dao Fusion realm.”
“Is that so?”
“You have been in seclusion for long, seldom engaging in battle. You do not realize that in our eyes, many so-called Dao Fusion cultivators are nothing more than powerful Mystic Enlightenment practitioners who have simply endured the years. Breaking through by sheer longevity alone is truly a pitiful thing.”
Just as his words fell, a deafening roar erupted from the northwest, splitting the heavens like a sudden thunderclap.
In an instant, a surge of boundless energy burst forth, like a mighty dragon breaking free from its chains, storming into the sky. In the blink of an eye, it pierced through the thousands of miles of layered clouds above.
Flames then roared upward, illuminating half the sky in a crimson blaze—a sight both magnificent and awe-inspiring.
The conversation about Ji You ceased at once.
All heads turned upward. Even the emissaries set down their bowls and chopsticks, their expressions growing solemn.
The source of that explosion—none other than Cold Iron Pass, deep in the Northern Border.
Ji You turned to Kuang Cheng. “Stay behind. Travel southwest from here, but do not, under any circumstances, approach Cold Iron Pass. If things seem dire, flee immediately.”
“Brother Ji…”
“I will ensure my own safety. I shall strive to return from the Snow Realm unharmed. Save your money well; they say the Demon Clan has little in the way of good food. When I return, I will surely be starving.”
Kuang Cheng took a step back, then gave a deep bow. “Brother Ji, travel safely.”
Ji You nodded slightly, then stepped into the carriage.
The enchanted artifacts embedded in the carriage walls radiated an unceasing flow of energy. The horses pulling the carriage neighed, their hooves kicking up the wind as they galloped toward the frontier.
As time passed, the party finally arrived at the border.
Before them stood towering black walls that seemed to pierce the very heavens, like a dormant behemoth exuding an overwhelming pressure.
This was no mere mortal-built structure, but a monument erected by the sages of this era after the fall of the Primordial Remnant Race. Spanning endlessly, it formed an impassable chasm that had sealed off the nine provinces from other races for a thousand years.
Before the carriage even reached the foot of the wall, over a dozen streaks of spiritual energy shot up like arrows, surging into the sky toward the fortress’s battlements.
Ji You followed closely behind, his immortal robe billowing fiercely in the wind. When he finally alighted upon the Falling Moon Barrier, a bone-chilling gale rushed to greet him.
Gazing downward, an endless mist enshrouded all beneath, hiding an abyss of unfathomable darkness.
To the west of the Falling Moon Barrier, flames and battle cries intertwined, filling the air with the sounds of slaughter.
Seeing this, Ji You’s expression grew grave.
This journey to the Demon Clan had been planned with utmost secrecy. The Immortal Overseer Office had chosen a period when the Barbaric Race had temporarily ceased their wars, hoping the envoys could slip through unnoticed.
Even if they encountered the Barbaric Race along the way, at least it would not be a fatal encounter.
Yet none had foreseen that the barbarians would launch another offensive so soon, surging forth once more from the Mountains of Ten Thousand Beasts.
This meant that if they attempted to leave the barrier now, they would likely be caught in the flames of war—or worse, directly encounter the barbarian army.
[It seems the silver spent was not wasted after all. That Longevity Peach purchased by the Office of Affairs—perhaps not so extravagant. It appears I truly will be risking my life this time.]
Ji You focused on the distant battle, sensing the fearsome auras radiating from beyond. His sword intent stirred slightly.
One can wait for the rain to cease. One can wait for the wind to calm.
But humanity could wait no longer.
The Demon Clan’s stance remained uncertain. They had neither refused the barbarian envoys seeking an audience in the Snow Realm, nor had they turned away the human envoys venturing northward. This hesitation meant only one thing—they were still undecided.
What were they waiting for? What did they desire? Ji You could not say.
No one could discern the heart of the Demon Emperor.
But what was certain—whether an alliance would be forged or shattered hinged upon but a single thought.
Ji You turned, his gaze sweeping across the barren lands behind him. Then, leaping down from the fortress wall, he landed before the assembled envoys and cultivators, who had now dismounted from their carriages.
All eyes were on him, filled with unspoken questions.
“What has happened outside?”
“Nothing of concern. It is safe—we can depart immediately.”
The gathered crowd turned to glance at the fiery clouds above, then fell silent for a long moment.
(This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation)