Chapter 276: Chapter 9: The Mortal World
Wang Ping remained silent, the constant chatter of deals filling his ears. It drove home the point that the Daoist Scripture Hall was merely a platform for balancing various factions, not the grand and noble institution that low-level Cultivators imagined.
’It makes sense, when you think about it,’ he mused. The nomination system was inherently backward. In the Daoist Scripture Hall, everyone from the sixth seat onward was chosen by nomination. On top of that, certain sects had fixed, inheritable quotas for the sixth seat, creating a very strict hierarchy.
Without the suppressive might of the Great Cultivators, such a system would inevitably erupt into conflict within two centuries, leading to all kinds of rebellions and vendettas.
A moment later, Zi Luan returned with a smile. Wu Quan had found a third-seat member from the Earth Cave Sect, completing their group of five. The person they planned to nominate was an Alchemist from Lishui Prefecture named Jian Yi. In Lishui Prefecture, his status was second only to the Nine Sons of the Dragon Monarch, and he even possessed his own private Daoist Canon and island.
His most defining trait was his wealth!
And just like that, Wang Ping had secured a gold vein.
As the nominations were submitted, Yun Que took a jade slip from his storage pouch and meticulously recorded them. The process took a long time. In the end, a total of 16 names were put forward, meaning a few members had abstained from nominating anyone.
Yun Que publicly confirmed the sixteen nominees. The last name he announced was his own younger brother, Jiangcun. The way he introduced him was particularly interesting. He said, "This final nomination, jointly put forward by myself and four Fellow Daoists, is for my youngest brother, Jiangcun. He’s been occupied with some matters in northern Zhongzhou recently, so I ask for your consideration, Fellow Daoists."
He glanced to his left and right as he spoke, the unspoken message clear: his brother was being backed by the five of them, so everyone should consider that when casting their votes. And if they wanted something in return, they just had to ask.
In truth, his words held little sway over the third-seat members present. But if it came down to a choice between the Dragon Palace and other factions, those present would certainly be slightly biased in the Dragon Palace’s favor.
"The energy supply method for the Dragon Palace’s aquatic Flying Boats is quite impressive. I wonder if we could trade for it," Ganxing remarked. As the Alliance Leader of the Fuming Prefecture Loose Cultivator Alliance, he was most concerned with the alliance’s maritime trade. With a Flying Boat, their efficiency could increase severalfold.
"Don’t even think about it," Wu Quan said, pouring cold water on the idea. "Even if the Dragon Palace were willing to give it up, you couldn’t afford to operate it."
"Well, a man can dream," Ganxing said, his expression turning serious.
Wang Ping asked curiously, "Is there something special about the Dragon Palace’s aquatic Flying Boats?"
Flying Spiritual Artifacts did exist in this world, but they were extremely rare. Moreover, they possessed little combat strength and were less practical than a Cultivator simply flying themselves. At best, they were only used for transporting important goods.
"They can draw Water Spirit Qi directly from the sea to fuel their Power Arrays!" Ganxing said, his voice full of envy.
"A remarkable piece of work indeed," Wang Ping nodded. ’I wonder if I could use my Primordial Spirit to read the arrays on the Flying Boat,’ he thought.
"It’s out of our league. They might not even give it up if our Lord himself were to ask."
Discussions similar to the one between Wang Ping and his companions echoed throughout the hall. Yun Que deliberately waited for a while before initiating the vote. Unsurprisingly, Jiangcun became a third-seat candidate.
After casting his vote, Zi Luan said, "These people are all shrewd. Look at who they nominated—aside from Fellow Daoist Jiang, every single one of them is immensely wealthy. Just wait in your Dao Field for the next three days. Invitations will come to you, filled with all sorts of promises. As long as you cast your vote for them, you’ll receive everything they offered, whether they win or lose."
"So who are we voting for?" Wu Quan asked. The third-seat member they had just brought over had already left, so he could be more direct.
"We’ll decide then. Let’s just stay in touch," Zi Luan replied.
Up at the front, Yun Que was the first to vanish after spouting a stream of polite nonsense. The others in the hall then began to sever their Spiritual Qi connections one after another.
When the illusion dissipated, Wang Ping’s gaze fell upon his courtyard gate. He formed a Spell with his hands, and the surrounding space shifted rapidly. The illusion from the Water Moon Bell gradually faded, revealing Yu Cheng Taoist’s figure at the entrance.
"A remarkable illusion. It can even deceive one’s spirit," Yu Cheng Taoist praised.
"I incorporated some rules from the Inspiration Realm," Wang Ping explained briefly.
"If only we could apply this to the entirety of Qianmu Temple, we wouldn’t have to worry about common sneak attacks," Yu Cheng Taoist said with a hint of regret.
Wang Ping smiled. "I doubt even the Lord could manage that."
Illusions in this world required specific Demon Soldiers or certain geographical locations. The communication illusion used by the third-seat members, for instance, had to be based on a real location.
Therefore, the most practical and common type of illusion used dense fog as an obstruction, supplemented by various props to construct a scene that was both real and illusory.
Yu Cheng Taoist sat down across from Wang Ping. "I’ve contacted two Entering Cultivators from the Earth Cave Sect," he said. "They will arrive in six days to help us survey the terrain around Qianmu Mountain. You are now a Pacification Envoy and have also taken the third seat. You’re bound to have no shortage of trouble. Distancing yourself from the mortals below is the correct course of action."
Wang Ping nodded gently and added, "There’s something else. The sect’s disciples lack basic security awareness. When something happened, they performed worse than the city constables. Also, the Inner Sect Disciples have too much free time. Most of them are just coasting. We need to find more for them to do."
The main reason this issue had been neglected was that for the past one or two centuries, neither Wang Ping nor Yu Cheng Taoist had been focused on Qianmu Temple’s development.
After the master and disciple finished their discussion, Yu Cheng went to implement the sect’s new policies. Wang Ping, meanwhile, flew into the air above the Gold Institute. The array here was very well-maintained. When the gold vein arrived, it could be planted directly. In less than a century, they would obtain a Spirit Vein that could be integrated, which would also provide more energy for the Nine Extremes Array.
After inspecting the Gold Institute, Wang Ping led Yu Lian and silently descended into the ruined district at the foot of the mountain. The once-scorched earth had been restored to its previous state by Wang Ping’s Magic, and the swirling dust had settled. But the common people who had died could not be brought back to life.
Government Soldiers maintained order at the edge of the ruins, while constables did the same within them. Many people from other districts had already swarmed in, searching the rubble for their relatives. Only a few were able to find family members to claim their bodies; for the most part, entire families had been wiped out.
The atmosphere was grim, punctuated by the sound of weeping.
From a corner, a young man’s angry voice cut through the weeping. "What damn immortals! They’re the ones who caused this disaster..."
"Shut your mouth!"
An older man berated him, "If the immortals hadn’t taken pity on us, would we have the good lives we enjoy today? You might not have even been born! Kneel down and recite their sacred names! Pray to the immortals for atonement!"
"I won’t!" the young man retorted stubbornly, staring at the two charred corpses on the ground.
"I told you to kneel!"
The elder stepped forward, grabbed the young man by the back of his neck, and forced his head to the ground. He made him kowtow three times on the scorched planks, muttering something under his breath. The gist of it was that his boy was young and foolish, and he begged the immortals for their forgiveness.
A nearby constable heard the young man’s complaint and started to intervene. But when he saw what was happening, he silently retreated to his post, then cast an impassive glance toward Qianmu Mountain.
Wang Ping, who was mingling at the edge of the ruins disguised as an ordinary scholar, also heard the young man’s words, and they struck a chord within him.
Someone once said that everyone has two versions of themselves: the person they believe they are, and the person others believe them to be—and the latter is ever-changing. In the young man’s heart, the immortals of Qianmu Mountain were the source of all evil. But in his elder’s heart, they were the ones who had allowed his family to eat their fill and live in peace—a force for good.
Many of the surrounding people who heard the young man’s outburst put their palms together and prayed silently, including some of the scholars.
Wang Ping walked away without a word, slowly making his way along the edge of the ruins. He soon arrived at an area where the bodies were being stored. A strong medicinal smell, meant to ward off plagues, hung heavy in the air. Two squads of Government Soldiers stood guard, while three Qi Cultivators performed a Taoist Family exorcism ritual on a makeshift altar.
Dry firewood was piled high next to the bodies. Apparently, the County Government had decided to cremate all the unclaimed corpses.
Wang Ping paused to observe for a long time before walking on. He reached the bank of the once-bustling river. Half the embankment had collapsed, and two small red boats lay capsized. Fortunately, it was daytime, so there hadn’t been many people aboard them.
The Red Boat Pavilion on the opposite bank, built out over the water, was completely unscathed, primarily because of the simple fire-suppression Array carved into its surface. People crowded every window of the pavilion. Most of them appeared unconcerned, watching the disaster unfold as if it were a distant spectacle, unaware they had just narrowly escaped death themselves.
Along the riverbank, many elderly people knelt in prayer, as if they believed the disaster was a result of their own wrongdoings.
Wang Ping watched them with curiosity, listening to their prayers. He was soon overcome by a wave of emotion, most of it negative.
"What’s wrong with you?"
"Nothing. I just feel like laughing."
"Laughing?"
"Mm-hmm."
After replying, Wang Ping vanished. The next moment, he reappeared in his Dao Field and summoned an attendant to bring him a jar of aged wine.
After confirming Wang Ping was all right, Yu Lian went to find Shen Xiaozhu, intercepting Wang Yang, who was heading to the Mountain Peak Dojo.
An entire jar of fine wine later, Wang Ping’s body remained unaffected, for he had already cultivated a Spirit Body. The alcohol, however, loosened his thoughts considerably. The fine wine eased some of the negative emotions in his heart. Clutching the wine jar, he lay down on the garden lawn and thought quietly until the next morning.
In the morning, an attendant brought his breakfast as usual—a bowl of simple wonton soup.
After he finished his soup, an Inner Sect Disciple from the base of the mountain ran to the garden gate. The attendant on duty received the message, entered, and reported, "Grandmaster, a Ten Thousand Households commander from the Imperial Guard is here. He claims to be an old acquaintance and is requesting an audience on behalf of the Imperial Family."
Wang Ping was perplexed. ’An old acquaintance, representing the Imperial Family?’ The first person who came to his mind was Xia Yao.
But in reality, it was Leng Qianhu, whom he had met on Mozhou Road.
