Duanchen Township

In the years since the Xiao family's rise, Guanyun Peak had ceased to be the place where tributes were paid, and foot traffic had dwindled considerably. Fortunately, the Yu family's market had been destroyed, and Daxu to the north was still in the midst of rebuilding after the chaos. With customers from most of Lake Wangyue and nearly half of Daxu pouring into the Guanyun Peak market, business was not much worse than before. Deep within the market, Li Qiuyang crouched in front of a storefront holding several pelts, jostling with a rogue cultivator before him. Flushed red in the face, the man shouted, "This pelt came from a first-layer Qi Refinement beast, completely undamaged! How could it not be worth seven spirit stones?!" Li Qiuyang had become a miscellaneous qi cultivator, his path of cultivation essentially at an end. To have extended his lifespan by nearly a century was already a stroke of fortune. Miscellaneous qi cultivators possessed pitiful combat strength, retaining only the title of Qi Refinement and the trick of riding the wind. The Li family's shops in the market needed hands, and Li Xuanxuan, thinking it better to let his own people earn spirit stones than outsiders, had summoned Li Qiuyang to the market to find work. Watching the rogue cultivator make a scene, Li Qiuyang gave a wry smile and replied, "Fellow Daoist, while this pelt does belong to a Qi Refinement beast, its spiritual sheen is dull and chaotic. One look tells you it came from a fledgling beast that had only just entered Qi Refinement. The fur might be intact, but it was merely a creature half the size of a man..." "Old Third Li! Don't you dare slander my goods with your nonsense!" Seeing Li Qiuyang belittle the pelt into something worthless, the man immediately burst into curses. In the shop, Li Qiuyang ranked beneath Li Xuanxuan and Li Xuanling, which was why the man angrily addressed him by the moniker Old Third Li. Li Qiuyang did not mind in the least. He merely cupped his hands and said, "Fellow Daoist, no matter which shop you go to, it will not fetch seven spirit stones!" The man glared at him resentfully, tossed the gray pelt onto the counter, and barked, "Six it is, then!" Only then did Li Qiuyang nod. He counted out six spirit stones and handed them over. The man snorted, flicked his sleeves, and strode away. It was not until he had left the courtyard that a youth poked his head out from a corner. He had ordinary features with slightly prominent brow bones, and he exclaimed, "What a foul temper on that man!" Li Qiuyang shook his head. He had grown accustomed to the attitudes of rogue cultivators. He was only a miscellaneous qi cultivator; out in the mortal realm, people might still respectfully call him an immortal master, but here in the market his standing was lower than that of an exceptional Embryonic Breathing cultivator. Shaking his head, he replied, "Mufeng, the family intends to transfer you back to the lake. Put on a good performance, stay close to our kinsmen, and strive to earn that grade-three heritage." Chen Mufeng nodded vigorously, asking with a trace of longing, "The clan's grade-three cultivation methods have always been reserved for the main branch. Collateral branches and outside surnames are never bestowed them without great merit. Rumor has it that Uncle Donghe followed Duke Xiangping on his westward march, surviving countless brushes with death before finally receiving the reward. If I hope to obtain this method, I'm afraid it won't be easy..." Li Qiuyang remained silent, musing quietly to himself. *I wonder how Xuanfeng is faring in Yishan City. I hear Nanjiang crawls with countless monsters and demons, but fortunately, the Sword Immortal is in Nanjiang as well and ought to offer him some shelter.* "Grand Shopkeeper!" While Li Qiuyang was lost in thought, Chen Mufeng's call snapped him back to reality. A man stepped slowly down from the upper floor—dressed in gray robes, his graying hair and meticulously combed beard lending him an air of dignity as he walked with his hands clasped behind his back. "Patriarch," Li Qiuyang greeted. Li Xuanxuan nodded. He was nearing fifty now; getting on in years, he had lost his taste for rushing about and preferred simply minding the shop. Competition within the market was fierce. Although the Li family had a Foundation Establishment cultivator backing them and was tied by marriage to the Xiao family, most of the businesses in the market belonged to the Xiaos. With the locals being their own people, Li Xuanxuan had to wrack his brains just to balance personal relations while securing adequate profits. He stroked his graying beard, calculated the days, and said with some unease, "Xuanling has been gone for several months, hasn't he? To think he still hasn't returned..." Li Xuanxuan's talent was limited, and he still hovered at the second layer of Qi Refinement. Li Xuanling, as Li Tongya's son, was far better off and had already reached the third layer. As they cultivated together in the market, Xuanling would occasionally leave Guanyun Peak to head north toward Daxu and the Great River, saying he wanted to broaden the family's horizons. Being away for more than half a month was nothing unusual, but he had now been gone for more than two months, leaving Li Xuanxuan fraught with worry. "Seventy-one days—over two months already," Li Qiuyang answered respectfully. Li Xuanxuan gritted his teeth. "Fetch brush and ink. I will write a letter to the clan and have Donghe go take a look!" Even as he spoke, Daxu and the Great River were vast beyond measure, and Li Xuanling's trail was entirely uncertain. Searching for him would be extraordinarily difficult and likely a waste of manpower. Li Xuanxuan wrote a few characters on the small letter before letting out a dejected sigh and setting down the brush. "Fortunately, the jade talisman is unharmed..." Li Xuanxuan drew a small jade pendant from his robes. Seeing its warm, crystalline glow, he let out a slight breath of relief. The Li family was now considered an established clan. Though they could not compare to the Three Sects and Seven Gates, with their dharmic marks and layered protections on storage bags, the Lis had at least developed a few methods of their own. As long as this jade talisman was crushed, its paired pieces would signal one another's direction. "I should still consult the Ancestor." After pondering for a moment, Li Xuanxuan picked up the brush once more and began writing on the letter. *** State of Zhao, Duanchen Township. Duanchen Township lay in the southernmost reaches of Zhao, right where the borders of Xu and Zhao met. Legend had it that this was the landing ground where northern clans had crossed the river during their southward migration, yet by now it had been occupied by Shakya cultivators for several centuries. Duanchen Township held a small monastery known as Duanchen Temple. In accordance with northern customs, all the land in Duanchen Township belonged to the temple. Beneath the monks were the tenant farmers, who were politely referred to as "Sangha households." There were also several Hu nobles who boarded and lodged at the temple to cultivate Shakya dharmas. Li Xuanling had stayed in this godforsaken place for an entire month, coming to understand deeply just how vexing Buddhism could be. When he first arrived in his Daoist robes, the emaciated tenant farmers looked upon him as though he were a harbinger of doom. The younger children wore their hatred openly on their faces and spat in secret. Had he not been a Qi Refinement cultivator, they likely would have bound him up and hauled him up the mountain. *The Central Plains have been under the sway of Shakya cultivators for centuries, and their roots have been severed entirely...* Li Xuanling gazed at the dense clusters of temples covering the mountain, sighing inwardly. According to immortal cultivators, the immortal path had waned after the War of Immortals and Demons, losing the north in the process. Most of the surviving great clans and sects had migrated southward from the north following the war. Now that he had returned to the north to see it for himself, where was there any trace of immortal cultivators left? Even though he did not hold the Purple Mansion and Golden Core Daoists in particularly high regard, witnessing this scene still moved him to lamentation. Looking down at the skeletal yet endlessly toiling tenant farmers, Li Xuanling felt a deep chill. In the north, one found no singing, dancing, acrobatics, theaters, brothels, shops, or street vendors—only boundless yellow earth and tenant farmers with shaved heads and single small braids, blanketed in a suffocating air of death. *Walking about the north in my current appearance will not do.* He formed an incantation gesture and altered his form, donning brown robes and revealing a glistening bald head. With an illusion, he disguised his dharmic sword as a long staff, and only then did he descend toward the fields, intending to ask for directions. To his surprise, the moment his feet touched the soil, a tenant farmer cried out aloud. At once, every tenant farmer dropped to the ground, prostrating with all five limbs flat against the earth in perfect unison. The small braids at the backs of their heads stuck straight up, looking like a field of pumpkins with black stems spread across the dirt. "Greetings, Dharma Master!" The man at the very front appeared to be their leader. His face was gaunt, yet his expression burned with fanaticism, and his voice was shrill and manic. Li Xuanling glanced up to see several frail women and children in the distance swooning from sheer excitement, collapsing haphazardly onto the ground, yet not a single person spared them a backward glance. "You..." Li Xuanling parted his lips. An inexplicable sorrow rose within his heart, rendering him speechless.