Unrest

After visiting the injured cultivators one by one, Wei Yuan made his final stop at the herb garden. The flames of war had not reached this place. Stepping through the garden's entrance, Wei Yuan was greeted by thick nether qi drifting through the air, clusters of ghost fire floating in every direction, and meticulously tended plots whose soil showed a dark teal-black, with phantom souls surfacing from time to time. The spiritual plants growing within were twisted and withered, their stems resembling dry bones writhing in agony, their leaves like shredded remnants of souls. Many bristled with sharp thorns and barbed hooks, while thorny tendrils lashed about constantly, searching for prey. Wei Yuan had long grown accustomed to the scene. Nearly all the plots altered by Nether Soil were clustered near the entrance, creating a literal hell on earth. This area not only looked perilous, but it was perilous in truth; after all, it was the snake's favorite haunt, where it usually rested. When sleeping, it liked to shrink itself down very small, and prey would inevitably deliver itself right to its jaws. Fortunately, deeper into the herb garden lay a true immortal realm. Wei Yuan had brought over a dozen attendants along, hauling three large freight wagons. The three spirit beasts were initially quite curious about what Wei Yuan had brought, but after circling the three large wagons and sniffing them, they lost all interest and sprawled aside in boredom. "What is in the wagons?" the old Daoist asked. Wei Yuan replied, "Severed limbs from the dharma bodies of fallen Great Shamans." Old Daoist Chuhe beamed with delight. "These will indeed be useful to this old Daoist! Buried beneath the Nether Soil, they will accelerate the growth of many of my spiritual plants." When a Great Shaman fell in battle, a portion of their divine soul returned to heaven and earth, while a small portion transformed into bestowals of heaven and earth. What remained of the dharma body held far less value—it could not serve as artifact-refining material and could only be buried as fertilizer. Nether Shamans and Scenery Command cultivators were in much the same situation: the vast majority of their life's cultivation essence resided in the sea of consciousness, their physical body serving as nothing more than a vessel for the Dao. When wounded, the flesh and blood they shed was priceless because it contained a piece of their divine soul. Yet once dead, their souls returned to heaven and earth, causing the value of their physical remains to plummet. Wei Yuan inspected the injuries of the three spirit creatures and, seeing they were in no serious danger, set his mind at ease. Leaving the herb garden, he made his way to the Weaponsmith Workshop. Across the entire Qingming Domain, there were now five thousand Dao Foundation cultivators, thirty-five hundred of whom cultivated template Dao Foundations. Drawing upon the tremendous prestige earned from his confrontation with Hongye, Wei Yuan dispatched over four thousand Dao Foundation cultivators straight to the Weaponsmith Workshop in one go. Having undergone several rounds of rapid expansion, the Weaponsmith Workshop now sprawled across more than ten li. Within its bounds, dozens of towering forging furnaces stood tall, sending pillars of flame dozens of zhang high roaring into the sky as if to set the heavens ablaze. Day and night, molten steel poured forth without end, turning the smelting furnace district into a fiery inferno. Iron-forging machines of every kind clattered and pounded around the clock, while the energy-supplying formations constantly required at least five hundred Dao Foundation cultivators to maintain. Wei Yuan had come to the Weaponsmith Workshop to adjust production once more, guided by the optimization plan formulated by the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World. Yu Zhizhuo, wrapped up like a zongzi, was currently dragging an immobilized leg as he inspected the workshop. The workshop was vast now, but fortunately Yu Zhizhuo was a dharma idol cultivator; bounding a dozen zhang on a single leg, his inspection rounds were effortless. Wei Yuan found Yu Zhizhuo and handed him the new production adjustment plan. Yu Zhizhuo looked it over and remarked, "Are the missiles really that useful?" "According to the analysis of past engagements, yes." In the previous battle, nearly forty percent of Shaman casualties had been caused by missiles. Once that analysis arrived, Wei Yuan's first move was to double missile production. After looking at the analytical report, Yu Zhizhuo pondered for a moment. "We haven't really improved these missiles yet. Let me tinker with them a bit, and I'll have an improved version ready soon." "It doesn't need to be too fancy. Volume comes first!" "Don't worry, I won't hold things up." Only then did Wei Yuan finally manage to find a brief moment of leisure, hurrying into the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World. Entering, he discovered that Zhang Sheng had only weathered five more strikes of tribulation lightning. In the sky above, the tribulation clouds rotated sluggishly, brewing the eleventh heavenly bolt. Around Zhang Sheng drifted ten immortal swords, each glowing with distinct radiance and possessing unique traits. Yet upon seeing the newly formed tenth sword, Wei Yuan felt an odd sense of familiarity, though he could not immediately recall where he had seen it before. Searching his memory, Wei Yuan suddenly realized that the sword's Dao charm and true intent bore a resemblance to Su Xuejing's Treading Snow on Kunlun. However, its grade and might were worlds apart—much like Immortal Sword · False Sun compared to Immortal Sword Great Sun. Following Wei Yuan's naming habit, he would have christened this sword Treading over Hills. Though every sword forged by Zhang Sheng was only Mortal Tier, assembling ten of them had weakened the heavenly tribulation's power by a full ten percent. Even though each tribulation bolt grew in strength, the increase was minuscule; once weakened, each strike was essentially comparable to the first. And having been tempered by ten strikes of tribulation lightning, Zhang Sheng's soul body and primordial spirit gleamed faintly, no longer vulnerable to severe injury from lightning of this magnitude. By Zhang Sheng's feet, the half-written farewell letter had vanished without a trace. Wei Yuan watched one more bolt of tribulation lightning. Seeing there was really nothing more to worry about, he exited the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World to make the most of his time reorganizing the army. Ordinarily, reorganizing an army after a major campaign was an excruciatingly tedious affair. However, all soldier records were backed up within the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World. It automatically rotated mortals who had fought in two consecutive battles to the third line, kept a handful of veterans with battle experience on the front line alongside a contingent of deathsworn, and filled the remaining ranks with mortals who had never seen combat. Thus, in the blink of an eye, an army of over a hundred thousand stood ready for service. Wei Yuan had dozens of awakened Dao Foundation warriors stationed in different areas. Armed with the roster, they called names, reorganized units, and directed the soldiers to assigned camps to receive equipment and undergo training. Which units each camp would receive, what equipment had to be issued, and what meals were to be prepared had all been planned in advance, with supplies being stocked simultaneously. Under the coordination of the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World, with dozens of Dao Foundation warriors acting as relay nodes for orders, and bolstered by Wei Yuan's towering prestige at this moment, the entirety of Qingming began to rumble into motion like a colossal war-forging machine. Yet something seemed to have gone awry in the south. Wei Yuan flew directly to the small town in the southern domain designated for receiving refugees. The town was a sea of people. Just as he arrived, a merchant caravan was hauling wagonloads of breastplates out of the domain, bound for Zhao. Sweeping his gaze across, his powerful divine sense tallied a staggering hundred and fifty thousand refugees crammed inside the town. Thirty registration tables had been set out, but they were far from enough to handle the volume. The queues stretched on with no end in sight. Having trudged across great distances, the refugees could not endure standing for so long, and clamor broke out. Soldiers bellowed at them, and some even lashed out with whips, instantly flogging several of the most vocal refugees until they were rolling on the ground in agony. In an instant, Wei Yuan flashed behind those soldiers, snatched the whips from their hands, and barked, "Who authorized you to whip the refugees?" Seeing it was Wei Yuan, the soldiers hastily bowed. "These unruly rabble were inciting the other refugees to cause trouble, so we were only teaching them a lesson—" Furious, Wei Yuan lashed each soldier across the face with brutal force, tearing open their flesh and leaving them drenched in blood. He bellowed, "Qingming decreed long ago that unless authorized by official decree, no one is permitted to use force against refugees! What right do you have to whip refugees in public?" Wei Yuan imbued his words with Dao power, sending them booming across the entire town so that everyone heard them clearly. Only then did a select few actually recall that Qingming supposedly had a code of law—though they had only heard Wei Yuan speak of it; it had not yet been formally promulgated. In that brief exchange, the identities and faces of the soldiers who struck the refugees had already been matched within the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World. They all hailed from the escort guard of an absorbed caravan, and to date, not a single member of that guard had seen action on the front lines. *Now that's interesting...* A dangerous glint flashed in the depths of Wei Yuan's eyes. Yet placating the refugees was more pressing than dealing with them right now. Wei Yuan kicked the soldiers aside and summoned the cultivator currently in charge of the town. This person was a disciple of the Monastery of Creation, a martial nephew of Xu Henshui who had accompanied him to Qingming for experiential training. Wei Yuan had no time for pleasantries or connections. He demanded straight away, "Why are there only thirty registration tables here? Didn't I say to add more if it wasn't enough?!" The disciple of the Monastery of Creation clearly was unaccustomed to Wei Yuan's harsh, stern demeanor. He said, "It's not that I'm unwilling to add more. Below the Dao Foundation realm, those are all the literate people we could find. You can't expect Dao Foundation cultivators to do such menial chores, can you?" Wei Yuan had not expected literate people to be so scarce, but this was not the time to dwell on whether there truly were so few literate people or if the man simply had not bothered to look. Wei Yuan ordered immediately, "Why can't Dao Foundation cultivators handle small tasks? Is it going to shatter their Dao hearts or something? Someone, go summon every idle cultivator from the Palace! If they are in seclusion, make them end it!" Several cultivators sped off like the wind. Wei Yuan turned to the disciple in charge from the Monastery of Creation and said, "When they arrive, you will set up at least five hundred registration tables!" Unexpectedly, the Monastery of Creation disciple had quite a temper himself. Having been chewed out twice by Wei Yuan, he slammed his things down and sneered, "Domain Lord Wei, we belong to the same sect. It's merely a difference in cultivation level. Why should I endure you ordering me about? I can't do this work, and I quit! Tomorrow I'll return to the Palace of Grand Beginning on my own!" Rage surged within Wei Yuan, but he forced it down, speaking calmly: "Incompetent in your duties, showing no desire to make amends, and abandoning your post. Very well. I shall have a thorough chat about this with your seniors later, and should the opportunity arise, I will mention it to Patriarch Danming as well." The disciple was both shocked and outraged. "They're just mortal refugees! Do you really have to take things this far?!" "I do. Men, escort this esteemed cultivator back to pack his things." Shame and fury mingled in the cultivator's face. He bellowed, "Just you wait! Sooner or later, I, Lin Zekai, will surpass your cultivation!" Wei Yuan said coolly, "With a Dao Foundation like yours, you are not worthy." Just then, Ren Suxing arrived in haste leading a dozen Dao Foundation cultivators from Sky Azure Hall, both senior and junior. Inquiring briefly about the task, he immediately ordered chairs and tables brought over without another word to register the refugees. A moment later, Fei Yutong also arrived with disciples from Water Moon Hall. Once they set to work, the situation transformed completely. Eight queues formed before Ren Suxing and Fei Yutong respectively, with eight refugees calling out their names and identities at the same time. Both were now late-stage Dao Foundation cultivators; their brushes flew across the scrolls with blinding speed, keeping pace effortlessly without a single error. The moment the eight individuals finished speaking, their records were complete, and the next row stepped forward. Half of the remaining disciples handled four lines at once, while the rest handled two—the latter looking somewhat embarrassed. Seeing the pace pick up significantly, the refugees finally settled down, and Wei Yuan's worries eased slightly. These refugees would soon be sent to the battlefield; if morale or public sentiment cracked even slightly now, it would invite catastrophe later. Hence, the moment Wei Yuan caught wind of a bad omen, he snuffed it out with thunderous resolve, not hesitating to expel a disciple of the Monastery of Creation back to the Palace of Grand Beginning. These were people destined for war. Before them, whatever dignity or pride a cultivator held had to be cast aside. No sooner had the refugees here been placated than commotion erupted near the porridge sheds. Wei Yuan swept his divine sense over and found that the porridge and steamed buns had already run dry, even though at least seventy to eighty thousand refugees had yet to receive any food. Every allocation and dispatch of grain from the warehouses was logged and backed up within the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World. According to the amount released today, even if it could not feed all the refugees to satiety, the shortfall should have been ten thousand people at most, which could easily be resolved with another requisition. Yet now, the numbers clearly did not add up. This time, Wei Yuan genuinely felt the urge to kill.