Sunlight spilled across high clouds, painting patches of gold over the white sea of mist.
A line of more than ten floating airships glided slowly forward, as though sailing over golden waves. Each bore prominent Qingming markings, and the heavy cannons mounted at their bows and sterns were painted a lustrous, gleaming silver.
On the deck of every flying boat sat numerous Dao Foundation cultivators from the Palace of Grand Beginning, listening attentively to speeches delivered by their Dharma Idol martial uncles.
"Listen well, everyone! The journey to the State of Ji is long, and the supplies we are escorting are vast in quantity and immense in value. There can be no mistakes! This route was originally charted by your Martial Uncle Zhang Sheng, and later swept clean time and again by Eldest Senior Sister Ji, Martial Granduncle Feng, and Martial Uncle Feng. Almost all the scoundrels along it have been wiped out.
"Even so, we cannot afford to get careless. If some fish slips through the net and we fail to catch it, wouldn't that mean letting another ship claim the credit? Can we tolerate that?"
The young cultivators' blood surged. Absolutely not!
Similar speeches echoed across every flying boat. Over four hundred Dao Foundation disciples from the Palace of Grand Beginning were aboard the fleet, ranging from the early stage to perfection. The month-long voyage escorting the ships from Qingming to the State of Ji served as the first step of their tempering.
They were already the third batch; the first two batches, totaling over eight hundred Dao Foundation cultivators, had already arrived in the State of Ji.
Wei Yuan had reached the State of Ji as well and was currently reviewing the training assignments for those who had arrived earlier. Zhang Sheng, having arrived a bit ahead of him, had already dispersed them across various regions for their tempering.
Among the feedback gathered so far, many cultivators from the Palace of Grand Beginning had voiced complaints about their assignments. In their imagination and past experience, tempering was supposed to mean exploring secret realms, unraveling mechanisms and formations, fleeing from pursuer golems, and seizing treasures from among rival cultivators to bring home in triumph. Accumulated over time, every treasure on their person would carry a tale of its own. Come their later years, they could brag to junior disciples for a whole year without ever repeating a story.
Under Wei Yuan and Zhang Sheng, however, their tempering had turned into driving domesticated guinea pigs to plow fields, using Dao arts to protect freshly harvested grain from rain and snow, or employing spells to bolster the vitality of newly planted winter wheat. The only task that could remotely be considered technically demanding was construction—for instance, pouring concrete, where a Dao Foundation cultivator could lift several thousand jin of cement at once and fly tens of zhang high to work.
Their fiercest combat mission was chasing off natural predators that sought to eat the guinea pigs. In truth, the guinea pigs bred by Old Daoist Chuhe were entirely different from wild ones. Some had gained intellect and possessed the strength of a Dao Foundation cultivator, even knowing how to wield armor, weapons, and tools; ordinary Dao Foundation cultivators were no match for these guinea pig kings.
Consequently, very few creatures could even count as natural predators to these guinea pigs in the first place, and Wei Yuan had swept the region clean repeatedly. Whenever the Palace of Grand Beginning cultivators spotted a hunting falcon or a spirit leopard nowadays, they celebrated as though it were the New Year.
Thus, many young cultivators grumbled about the arrangement. They did not object to doing work, but felt they should at least be tasked with guarding strategic locations to suit their status as Grand Beginning cultivators. Who had ever heard of coming all this way to do farmwork and manual labor?
Wei Yuan had naturally anticipated these complaints. These young cultivators had yet to realize the importance of being blessed with karmic luck. And acquiring karmic luck was far from easy.
In the eyes of most cultivators of this era, mortals were useless creatures unworthy of sincere treatment. Yet the dao of karmic luck was profound and mysterious, requiring genuine willingness and heartfelt consent.
Over the years, Wei Yuan had long observed that mortals saw clearly. Whether one treated them well and acted with sincerity, mortals knew full well once enough time passed. Thus, Wei Yuan arranged for the Grand Beginning cultivators to assist mortals with their most urgent and vital autumn harvest. The more simple, foundational, yet voluminous and grueling the tasks they took on, the easier it was to earn gratitude and harvest karmic luck.
It sounded somewhat like a transaction, but in reality, there was a substantial difference. It was just that the Grand Beginning cultivators had not yet realized that distinction.
After reviewing the reports and assigning tasks to the incoming third batch of cultivators, Wei Yuan set aside his work to keep Zhang Sheng company. Talking with her every day had become part of his daily routine.
In such tranquil moments, his Dao heart remained clear and luminous, allowing him to perceive subtle shifts between heaven and earth and see through the enemy's hidden ploys. By erecting Buddha Sword Peak, Wei Yuan had made his stance unmistakably clear. The enemy's sudden, absolute silence was certainly not a retreat, but rather the incubation of a new, lethal strike.
Reaching the study's entrance, Wei Yuan halted and looked out past the corridor.
It was mid-autumn. The chill in the wind was deepening. In the courtyard, the leaves of flowering trees were turning red and yellow in mottled patches; at this time of year, foliage outshone blossoms.
Across the vast lands beyond his view, tens of millions of mortals were sweating under the open sky. Aided by numerous cultivators, they harvested crops, plowed fields, fertilized the soil, and sowed seeds, awaiting the arrival of winter when snow would blanket the earth. Beneath the thick layers of ice and snow, sparks of vitality would lie dormant deep within the soil, quietly awaiting the warmth of spring.
Mortals who could start families had already wed. Among the more than ten million people, over half a million new lives were currently growing in maternal wombs; come next spring, another massive wave of children would be born. By then, even more would be conceived.
Mortals were keen yet simple. As long as they possessed a sufficient sense of security, had enough food and clothing, and saw hope ahead, they would naturally multiply and carry on their bloodlines.
After deducting the land rents Wei Yuan collected, any farming household that had worked diligently throughout the year had enough surplus grain from this autumn harvest to feed themselves through the entirety of the coming year, with plenty to spare.
The rents Wei Yuan collected would be put to work in the winter to build roads and bridges, erect various facilities, pastures, mining sites, factories, academies, and dormitories. All these rents would be paid out as wages, returning straight into the hands of the diligent and hardworking.
Splendor of All Realms had calculated that after a full first year, the average mortal could accumulate enough surplus food to sustain them for roughly two years.
Right now it was surplus grain; starting next year, as the circulation of Qingyuan expanded, it would become living funds. By this time next year, mortals would be pondering how to improve their quality of life.
Wei Yuan had already begun attracting merchant caravans and had broken ground on a road leading to the State of Zhao. It was a massive undertaking spanning tens of thousands of li, but the long-term returns would be colossal: wherever the road reached would fall within Qingming's sphere of influence.
Furthermore, this road would thoroughly cut off connections between the Mountain Folk along the western border and their home territory, turning the Mountain Folk of this region into turtles trapped in a jar to be swallowed up gradually.
With countless affairs of all sizes, even Wei Yuan's divine sense—which could effortlessly manage eight thousand concurrent tasks—found itself stretched thin.
Over the past year, the territory of the State of Ji had developed by leaps and bounds. After a full year of recuperation and growth, many mortals had grown stronger and begun contributing a second stream of karmic luck, while hundreds of thousands had begun Body Casting.
Autumn was the harvest season; as mortals reaped abundance, Wei Yuan reaped handsomely as well. This season alone, he gathered five million points of mortal fortune from the State of Ji.
Those opponents likely never imagined that the one thing they should never give Wei Yuan was time. Now, Qingming's grand momentum was nearing completion. Mortal fortune surged, karmic luck rolled like waves, rising time after time; with every passing period, Wei Yuan accumulated a vast sea of mortal fortune.
At this point, Wei Yuan almost hoped his adversaries would lose their composure and take a couple of swings at him—he guaranteed he would make them suffer beyond endurance.
Standing before the study door for a moment, Wei Yuan pondered, planning to discuss with Zhang Sheng how to identify and foster sword cultivation talent. This was a matter of great importance. Following the establishment of Buddha Sword Peak, the chances of discovering sword talent among those living and cultivating nearby would rise sharply, so preparations had to be made early.
Having settled on today's topic, Wei Yuan pushed open the study door and stepped inside—only to find the room shrouded in billowing mist!
In the middle of the study sat a spiritual-wood bath tub, within which rested a beauty. Long black hair cascaded over shoulders as white as snow and lustrous as jade, the stark contrast striking enough to draw a gasp. The tresses spread out through the water like reaching, clawing reeds, seemingly intent on seizing one's heart and soul, tearing them apart, and devouring them whole.
Wei Yuan's breath caught in his chest. The face was still that peerlessly gorgeous face, the person still the one haunting his dreams. Yet sword qi sharp enough to pierce the heavens could actually soften until it seemed like water, like mist, rippling outward in rhythmic rings with every breath. It brushed against his face, softer than a spring breeze, warmer than an autumn wind, bearing an exotic fragrance that left one helpless to resist. Then, a slender, snow-white leg shaped like an exquisite blade rose from the water, its wet toe, delicate as a rain-washed magnolia petal, gesturing lightly toward Wei Yuan.
This peerless heavenly demon was named Zhang Sheng.
At that moment, only a single sentence echoed in Wei Yuan's mind: *If your master ever lets loose...*
Yet the words that met his ears were altogether different: "Whatever they have, I have. Whatever they lack, I have too! So in this life and the next, across all lifetimes to come, don't you dare dream of ever forgetting me—!"
That fair, unadorned hand—one Wei Yuan had gazed upon countless times in plain sight and secret alike—opened and snatched through the air. Wei Yuan flew forward and crashed into the water, churning up countless waves.
Rising and falling, water splashing wildly. An arched neck curved in an arc of breathless surrender; stifled low moans betrayed an insatiable craving.
And so he fell, drowning in abandon.
Chapter 1035