Virtue Does Not Endure Forever

Late at night, the noisy little courtyard fell quiet. Smelting steel took an immense toll; even the Desolate Shamans had dark circles under their eyes, to say nothing of the Strength Shamans. Now, no matter how vigorous a Strength Shaman was, when the time came, he would collapse into sleep. Only gorging themselves and sleeping could make up for what the day consumed. Wei Yuan trimmed the lamp wick to brighten the flame, smoothed out a sheet of jade paper, and sensed the Heavenly Dao overhead. Tribulation clouds had already gathered, yet they were continually scattered by an invisible, terrifying power. The cycle repeated again and again, never quite condensing into a true heavenly tribulation. *It really is absurdly powerful...* Wei Yuan mused with a sigh, then pondered before the blank jade paper. These days, his thoughts had run deeper and deeper. He was no longer merely trying to persuade Ronglong, but genuinely contemplating matters from the perspective of heaven and earth, of all living beings, of history, and of time. The history books he had studied over the years and fleeting glimpses of worlds beyond the heavens all transformed into the words soon to be set onto the page before him. Although he could not write about the new world, there was still much else he could write. Wei Yuan had now discovered that between "what is virtue" and the new world, there remained many blanks that required reinterpretation. Wei Yuan pondered for a long time. Putting brush to paper as if it weighed a thousand jin, he slowly wrote several words: *Virtue does not endure forever.* In the sky, the tribulation clouds stirred, but were once again clamped down firmly by that incomparably formidable power. Moreover, heaven and earth did not seem particularly enraged this time; instead, they lingered on the verge of erupting without doing so, as if they too wished to see what Wei Yuan intended to write. With the opening thesis set, Wei Yuan's thoughts flowed smoothly as he wrote on and on. Thousands of words spilled forth in the blink of an eye, yet his inspiration remained far from exhausted. For a shaman of virtue, once virtue was established, heaven and earth had already bestowed their reward. Thus, what was in the past stayed in the past. Having virtue in the past did not mean one still possessed virtue in the present. If one could not continually perform deeds of virtue, then in the present, one was devoid of virtue—just as merit was never rewarded twice. To hold high station without virtue was unrighteousness, the very fountainhead of turmoil and ruin. To rest upon the virtue of the past, doing nothing while perpetually making demands—hoping to turn the virtue of a fleeting moment into the virtue of a lifetime—was a forfeit of virtue. Worse still were those entrenched upon the virtue of their ancestors, constantly taking and taking; that was the greatest forfeiture of virtue of all. Wei Yuan's brush flew across the paper as his arguments built layer upon layer, ultimately converging on a single sentence: *All things under heaven belong only to those who possess virtue.* On second thought, Wei Yuan felt this was too obscure. Fearing the shamans might not understand, he needed to put it more bluntly, so he added another sentence: *If precious treasures are usurped by the virtueless, the virtuous people under heaven may take them for themselves.* Without anyone realizing it, the tribulation clouds had dispersed. Wei Yuan reviewed what he had written again and again. His thoughts surged, and he felt tempted to continue writing about the new world, but the moment he lifted his brush, thunder crashed into being. Helpless, Wei Yuan laid down the brush and began to wonder why the Heavenly Dao was so sensitive. Could it truly know what he was writing? At that moment, the chime of a bell rang out, and clamor began outside again. Wei Yuan left the small room and closed the door behind him. In the door crack, as if by accident, a strand of hair was caught. If anyone opened the door, the position and crease of that hair would inevitably shift. Even if someone could somehow return it to its original position without moving it, a strand folded once differed subtly from one folded twice. Other Desolate Shamans might not notice, but Wei Yuan could. After Wei Yuan left, one of the room's walls suddenly rippled like water. From the spreading ripples stepped Ronglong. He sat in Wei Yuan's seat, picked up the newly inscribed jade paper, furrowed his brows, focused his mind, and quietly began reading. *** Qingming. Zhang Sheng sat upright before her desk, reviewing the official documents submitted to her one by one. Behind the massive screen at her back, hundreds of light orbs bobbed and floated. To outward appearances, these light orbs were no different from those used by others to take on tasks, but close observation revealed that each orb flickered at an extremely high frequency, dispatching multiple tasks in a single breath. Zhang Sheng opened a dispatch. On its cover, the words "Urgent" and "Major" were written in cinnabar ink. Qingming had clear regulations defining what constituted an urgent or major event, along with specific requirements regarding scale. For instance, Old Daoist Chuhe clearing five hundred thousand mu of fields was urgent and major, while clearing fifty thousand mu was merely an ordinary matter. Normally, documents marked urgent or major were few and far between, yet this one bore both designations. Frowning slightly, Zhang Sheng opened it to read carefully. The dispatch had been submitted by the Qingming Bank, signed jointly by its six chief directors, which was why it qualified to be marked urgent and major and sent straight to Zhang Sheng's desk. The text stated that following the successful issuance of Shanyuan and Bishuiyuan by the Zhenshan and Bishui Fiefs, the Crown Prince of Zhao, unwilling to be outdone, had begun issuing Dingding currency. Two enfeoffed princes also intended to issue currencies and were making preparations. Overnight, the strategists and intellectuals of Zhao seemed to have gained profound expertise in currency; treatises of all kinds sprouted like bamboo shoots after rain, with hundreds produced in a single day, as if everyone had become a monetary expert. It was said that the King of Zhao was already inclined to issue Zhaoyuan, backed by the tax revenues across the state. Given that Zhao had already issued three currencies, with seven or eight more pending, and that a behemoth like Zhaoyuan was about to enter the market, the demand for Qingyuan in the market had surged sharply. On the black market, the exchange rate of Qingyuan to immortal silver had already climbed to one Qingyuan for one and a half taels of immortal silver. The directors therefore recommended issuing a large additional quantity of Qingyuan. They believed printing five hundred million Qingyuan could easily be absorbed into circulation. Beside Zhang Sheng lay another document, spearheaded by Yu Zhizhuo, tallying all the goods Qingming had bought and sold over the previous quarter. According to the statistics, Qingming's purchases of various raw materials in a single quarter had reached an all-time high, doubling the previous quarter's volume. Currently, raw silk, minerals, cotton, hemp, medicinal herbs, and spiritual wood had all been purchased to the absolute limit. It was not that Qingming could not afford to buy more, but that there was simply none left to purchase. Even so, the goods Qingming sold still exceeded what it bought by thirty million yuan. That figure could not support a massive issuance of Qingyuan. Right now, Zhang Sheng was relying on backing Li Chengfeng and Li Zhi, as well as extending loans to the three great aristocratic clans—Bao, Cui, and Xu—to forcefully issue a batch of Qingyuan, but the total was still under a hundred million. Even for this surplus of Qingyuan, Zhang Sheng had been racking her brains over how to absorb it without suffering backlash. Over the past month, Zhang Sheng had considered many methods and found none viable, which was why her eyes had turned beyond Qingming over the last few days, looking for where a new war could be ignited. An increase of under a hundred million Qingyuan had already left Zhang Sheng feeling frazzled, yet the bank directors dared to propose an additional issuance of Qingyuan—and five hundred million at that? Zhang Sheng could not help but laugh out of sheer exasperation. She had just lectured Feng Chutang, and here her own bank's directors were planning to print money like water? What was more, not long ago, two directors had jointly submitted a petition seeking to issue an additional hundred million Qingyuan. Zhang Sheng had flatly rejected that dispatch back then. Yet hardly any time had passed before the directors submitted another petition—this time signed jointly by all six directors, demanding five hundred million in one breath. What was this? A demonstration of power? An attempt to force her hand? Zhang Sheng's smile remained, but her gaze grew sharp. She lifted her brush. This time, she did not even write a comment; she merely drew an X across it and ordered it sent back to the bank. The rest of the day passed without incident. Early the next morning, Xu Henshui suddenly came looking for her. The moment he saw Zhang Sheng, he demanded, "Why the sudden push to print so much Qingyuan all at once? Even if I chopped up all my immortal orchids, it wouldn't be enough!" Zhang Sheng was annotating dispatches. Taken aback, she said, "When did I order more Qingyuan printed? What print volume did you receive?" "Eight hundred million! I was wondering if you'd lost your mind!" Xu Henshui said bluntly, his expression sour. He was exceptionally learned and understood the inner mechanics of Qingyuan, which was why he had been selected back then as an instructor for centralized instruction. This number defied all reason. Zhang Sheng thought for a brief moment and summoned an attendant. "Go to the mint and have them report immediately what is going on. Also, notify Senior Brothers Yu and Sun, Martial Uncle Chuhe, Bao Yun, Xiaoyu, the city lords, and the others to come to the Immortal City. Furthermore, convey my military order: instruct the garrison at the New City to assemble and prepare for battle immediately. All preparations must be complete within half an hour." Xu Henshui was flabbergasted, baffled by the reaction. "Why such a massive commotion?" Zhang Sheng said calmly, "By the looks of it, a batch of people will have to die." Xu Henshui was even more confused. "Qingming needs an army to execute people? If the few of us join hands, what rebellion couldn't we put down?" Zhang Sheng said, "Mobilizing the army will snap some people to their senses, which means fewer people will have to die." Before long, the rushing of wind sounded outside the courtyard. Two cultivators flew in at top speed, calling out from afar, "Urgent report!" Zhang Sheng said unhurriedly, "See? Here comes the main act." Seeing Zhang Sheng and Xu Henshui, one of the cultivators looked terrified, while the other carried an arrogant air. After presenting the dispatches, they took a step back and stood quietly to the side. The terrified one hailed from the mint. His document stated that they had received notice jointly signed by four chief directors of the Qingming Bank demanding an emergency printing of eight hundred million Qingyuan. Seeing all the official procedures in order, the mint dared not delay; they immediately began preparing the printing plates and submitted a request for Xu Henshui to imbue them with immortal qi. The arrogant one came from the Qingming Bank and was the grand-nephew of one of the chief directors. On the cover of this dispatch from the bank, besides the words "Urgent" and "Major," there strikingly appeared an additional term: "Copy." The document stated that according to the regulations established by the Realm Lord, the authority to issue currency belonged to the Qingming Bank; if four of the six chief directors agreed, additional Qingyuan could be issued without requiring further approval. Having deliberated and decided to print an additional eight hundred million Qingyuan, the directors had sent a copy to Zhang Sheng purely as a courtesy. By this time, Bao Yun and Xiaoyu had arrived, and Sun Yu had just entered through the door. The cultivators read the document together, all stunned. Bao Yun remained composed, while Sun Yu and Xu Henshui were already radiating murderous intent. Zhang Sheng tossed the dispatch onto the ground and said slowly, "What a joke! Since when did the issuance of Qingming's currency fall under the bank's sole discretion? Do those men take themselves for the Realm Lord? There is nothing more to say. Mobilize the troops and seize them! Arrest all directors who signed, along with their entire clans! Imprison the remaining directors pending trial. Anyone who resists may be executed on the spot. And you—any last words?" The director's grand-nephew was shocked and furious. "How dare you—" Before the words left his mouth, a flash of sword light looped around his neck, and his head dropped to the floor. Just then, Feng Chutang rushed in, only to see a corpse lying on the floor. Startled, he cried, "How did this happen?" Zhang Sheng briefly explained what had occurred, then said, "Having worked in the bank for so long, these men mistakenly believed that everything in the world boils down to money, imagining they can control all things from the shadows. Now that their operation has grown, they are no longer content to remain behind the scenes and want to step into the spotlight. This incident is their coordinated test of the waters." After hearing this, Feng Chutang could only sigh. "They are clever men, yet not clever enough. No matter how much money passes through their hands, all we need to do is send a squad of cultivators to round them all up. Honestly, what were they dreaming of?" Xiaoyu asked, "Did Wei Yuan really set down regulations stating that the issuance of Qingyuan belongs to the Qingming Bank?" Zhang Sheng replied, "In the past, how much to issue and how to issue it was decided entirely by him alone. After he left, there was indeed a blank slate here. Those directors likely saw an opportunity, granted themselves this authority, and attempted to operate independently of Qingming." Bao Yun arched her slender brows and fumed, "Isn't that outright rebellion?!" Bao Yun's words defined the matter once and for all. Zhang Sheng then swept her gaze across the room, finally resting on Xiaoyu. "Xiaoyu, lead the troops and arrest all the directors and their confederates. Do not let a single one slip away!" Xiaoyu started, blurting out instinctively, "Go arrest a bunch of mortals? I..." Xiaoyu had initially felt that arresting a bunch of ordinary cultivators was beneath his dignity, but Star Lord Shaoyang immediately snapped, "Take it! Why on earth would you not leap at dirty work like this?!"