According to the regulations of the Palace of Grand Beginning, a standard Mortal Tier Dao Foundation enemy was worth one hundred merit points. The Daoist had credited Wei Yuan with eighty, which was essentially an acknowledgment that had these wounds been suffered by an ordinary Mortal Tier cultivator, they would have claimed eighty percent of his life. If a Mortal Tier cultivator died, it would still only count as one hundred merit points; any additional immortal silver awarded was deemed condolence pay.
Once his wounds were dressed, before Wei Yuan could even stand up, two young Daoists brought over a blood-drenched cultivator and laid him down beside him; the man was no longer breathing. Not daring to linger, Wei Yuan hurriedly left the clinic so as not to take up someone else's place.
After stepping out of the clinic, Wei Yuan checked his bearings and walked toward the south gate. Moments later, he exited the gate and arrived alongside the flying vessels.
Two temporary halls had already been erected outside the vessels. At the entrances, Daoists called out, "Palace of Grand Beginning enters the left hall! Other sects enter the right hall!"
Cultivators filed in and out in orderly queues. Those going into the left hall entered empty-handed and left empty-handed, while those going into the right hall entered empty-handed and departed laden with bundles and packages.
Wei Yuan took his place at the end of the line. Before long, his turn arrived, and he walked into the left hall. Inside stood only a few desks, each staffed by an expressionless cultivator. Whenever someone approached, the person behind the desk would hold up a register to cast a light over them, call out a number, and then move on to the next.
When it was Wei Yuan's turn, he found a middle-aged female cultivator behind the desk. Her eyes were sharp as a hawk's, the corners of her mouth turned down, and her nose hooked like an eagle's beak. She wore an expression that suggested the entire world owed her several taels of immortal silver.
Yet upon seeing Wei Yuan, her expression softened unexpectedly. She looked him over carefully several times before shining the register over him, and then read aloud, "A total of four centurions slain, eleven captains, and one hundred thirty-seven ordinary cavalrymen?!"
To say nothing of the female cultivator, everyone in the hall was taken aback. Wei Yuan displayed no Dao light, showing clearly that his Dao Foundation was not yet established; in terms of realm, he was merely on par with a Liao barbarian captain. A captain was worth twenty merit points, whereas a centurion was equivalent to an Earth Tier Dao Foundation, worth two hundred!
A battlefield was no duel. Given Wei Yuan's realm, killing a few captains was already quite remarkable. The rare cultivator endowed with defying talent and exceptional luck might bridge realms to fell a centurion, but someone like Wei Yuan—who had only arrived three days ago, yet had hacked down multiple centurions, slaughtered captains in strings, and reaped common soldiers in heaps—was entirely unprecedented!
Shocked though they were, merit points could not be falsified. Every disciple of the Palace of Grand Beginning practiced a Dao technique: casting it before battle allowed one's battle record to be inscribed into their Primordial Spirit. Because it recorded only battle outcomes, the burden of this Dao technique was virtually nil, allowing it to remain active for extended periods. When the Palace of Grand Beginning verified merits, they needed only examine the results recorded by the technique.
The female cultivator gave Wei Yuan a deep look and made an entry in the register: "Wei Yuan of Sky Azure Hall, one thousand two hundred thirty-seven merit points."
In the Palace of Grand Beginning, merit points were far more useful than immortal silver, capable of being exchanged for almost any supplies. Many immortal pills, precious herbs, spiritual materials, and magic treasures could only be acquired with merits. If one truly had nothing they wished to redeem, they could also convert them directly into immortal silver; the official exchange rate set by the Palace of Grand Beginning was ten taels of immortal silver per merit point.
In practice, many disciples privately traded immortal silver for others' merits. The price fluctuated from time to time, generally hovering between twelve and fifteen taels per merit point.
In other words, after fighting for three days, Wei Yuan had already earned more than ten thousand taels of immortal silver. If exchanged privately at a higher rate, it could yield nearly twenty thousand taels.
The left hall was exclusively for Palace of Grand Beginning disciples, so it only recorded merits; whatever they wished to redeem, they could do so after returning to the palace. The right hall was for disciples of other sects, for whom the Palace of Grand Beginning had prepared a stock of provisions that could be redeemed on the spot. Although the selection was smaller, several items were rare treasures unobtainable in the outside world, so the vast majority chose to redeem them immediately.
Seeing the others leave beaming with joy and their hands full of goods, Wei Yuan realized the immense appeal of settling military merits on the spot. So many had spared no effort in coming to the rescue—currying favor with the Bao family was secondary; most were likely drawn by immediate settlement.
Leaving the Hall of Merits, Wei Yuan returned to the fortress. Following protocol, he located the storeroom dedicated to military supplies, replenished his javelin cases, bow, and arrows, and thus completed his post-battle refitting.
Wei Yuan did not spend much time replenishing. After drawing his gear, he found himself at a loss for what to do. People bustled to and fro throughout the fortress, clogging the thoroughfares. Dao Foundation cultivators were as numerous as ox hairs; no one paid any attention to a junior like Wei Yuan who had not even achieved a Dao Foundation.
The great battle had only just concluded. Clearing the field, treating the wounded, and repairing the fortifications entailed a mountain of tangled chores; everyone was busy beyond measure. Wei Yuan did not know what Bao Yun was doing, but one could easily imagine her surrounded like the moon by a cluster of stars. Among the various relief forces from the surrounding areas alone, there were plenty of notable figures; from Wei Yuan's vantage point, he had spotted several contingents numbering more than a hundred horsemen each. Among the leading cultivators were talented young elites who had firmly solidified their foundations and stepped into mid Dao Foundation, and even late-stage cultivators nourishing the spirit. From any angle, Wei Yuan was far down the line.
Arriving all on his own, Wei Yuan was not even at Dao Foundation.
Wei Yuan did not linger. After taking a walk through the fortress to study its defensive layout, he set off back to Shayang Village. He did not ask anyone to announce him to Bao Yun, departing just as quietly as he had arrived. He and Bao Yun were already people of two different worlds, whether in cultivation or status. The only bond between them was an IOU worth hundreds of thousands, which Bao Yun had likely long forgotten.
Leaving the fortress, Wei Yuan felt the formation plate in his robe still vibrating from time to time; others in the vicinity were still calling for help. However, the main Northern Liao force in Bianning Commandery had clearly converged on Bao Yun's position, to the point that even dharma idol cultivators had clashed. Now that the formidable dharma idol figure was injured and had fled far away, and the main force had been driven back, at most only roving cavalry remained on the battlefield, and they would withdraw before long.
Wei Yuan's primary duty remained defending his own sector; lending outside relief had defined limits, and anything beyond that scope was the responsibility of other cultivators. At the moment, the direction of Quyang was entirely peaceful, without any disturbances, allowing Wei Yuan to rest his mind.
On his return journey, Wei Yuan frequently spotted human and horse corpses strewn along the roadside, testament to the brutal clashes that had just taken place here. The eastern part of Bianning Commandery was not Agula's primary direction of assault, yet beacon fires and smoke rose everywhere.
In the wilderness along both sides of the road, occasional hamlets came into view, all of them abandoned. Bleached bones were everywhere, leaving no clue as to when they had died or of what cause.
In just three short days, Wei Yuan's state of mind had shifted. Seeing corpses and dried bones had become somewhat routine, yet a faint melancholy still lingered in his heart, refusing to dissipate.
The northern sky and earth were a swath of murky yellow, perhaps pushed back a little further due to their defeat in the great battle. Beyond the gloom, nothing could be seen clearly, and there was no telling how many Liao men lurked behind it, licking their wounds while preparing for their next assault.
Before long, Shayang Village and the Quyang county seat came into distant view. Suddenly, Wei Yuan's expression changed!
The parapet walls of Shayang Village had collapsed in several places, and the main gate hung wide open. Bloodstains marked the walls and ramparts everywhere. The village was deathly still, without the slightest stir! The two villages behind it were in the same state: walls crumbled, gates agape.
Wei Yuan activated his Qi-Gazing Technique. Above the hamlets, bloody vapors and resentful qi intertwined, coiling without dispersing, and all three villages were shrouded in it. Yet from Shayang Village, a thin streak of white qi rose upward, slender but condensed and unyielding.
Wei Yuan's eyes narrowed. Gripping his spear, he spurred his mount at full gallop toward Shayang Village.
In the blink of an eye, Wei Yuan reached the entrance to the village. Dismounting, his footsteps slowed. Several gaping holes had been gouged into the wide-open wooden gates, and the crossbar had been hacked clean in two. Arrows bristled all along the parapet walls, some buried up to their fletchings. Every one of these arrows bore white feathers—something he had never seen before.
The village was choked with deathly stillness. Blood had stained nearly every path red; most of it had dried, but where it pooled deeply, it was still somewhat soft. On the roads, inside houses, in courtyards, behind cottages—corpses lay everywhere, and not a single one was intact. For most, all four limbs had been severed; only a few retained a lone arm or leg.
Every corpse was headless.
Wei Yuan walked forward step by step. His boots came down upon the ground, each step squelching through the half-dried blood, leaving behind clear, distinct footprints.
Chapter 85