Chapter Three: Gathering the First Members

In the cultivation world, there was no system of slavery, yet countless hired servants emerged, driven by the pressures of survival. The root cause lay in the centralized power of the royal family—when dynasties changed, effective tactics for winning the hearts of the people were often employed. For instance, awarding land to meritorious generals and noble families, while even common folk would receive farmland essential for survival.

After all, cultivators needed food as well. Even after forming a core, they might forgo eating for extended periods, but could never abandon sustenance entirely. Spiritual energy increased one’s cultivation, but the physical body still required nourishment. Thus, farmland remained the main source of food in the cultivation world.

The royal family held the purse strings and the exclusive right to currency and lending. For ordinary people, it was hard to have any savings beyond agricultural income. If disaster struck—poor harvest or illness—one would need money for medicine and could only turn to private loans. At that point, the only collateral was their precious farmland. Should another bad harvest leave them unable to repay, the land would be lost. Without it, there was no means of living; such families had no choice but to work for others for a pittance. Those who fell into deeper ruin could only sell themselves or their children as indentured servants. Over time, as stability grew, land became concentrated in the hands of the few. Opening up new land in the wild was nearly suicidal in an era rampant with bandits. Only sects or organizations could establish themselves beyond the cities and possess their own territories.

This led to masses of landless commoners becoming hired laborers or signing indenture contracts as servants. These servants, in effect, lived little differently from slaves—property of their masters, though protected by law from arbitrary killing. Continuous wars among nations and sects also produced countless captives who lost their freedom and became tradable servants. In the Cloudflow Kingdom, such people formed the lowest stratum of society—a vast and downtrodden group.

At noon, Old Yang returned with eight new servants: two men and six women. Sixteen spirit coins had paid for both the people and their indenture contracts. Per Yang Cheng’s instructions, the men were chosen for their strength and speed, the women for their dexterity.

Spirit stones were the hard currency of the cultivation world—circulating mediums of exchange and sources of spiritual energy, recognized by all. The royal family, with overwhelming military might, had claimed most known spirit mines. For convenience, all royal families had standardized spirit stones into coins: identical, round slivers of uniform weight, inscribed with royal runes to prevent forgery. These were called spirit coins—easier to carry, more efficient for trade, and no need to weigh them each time.

Some spirit mines, unknown to most, were controlled by sects or families. But without royal runes, these stones could only be used for personal cultivation and not as currency. Even when exchanged for spirit coins, the rate was a mere six to ten.

Below the spirit coin was the silver coin—a rare metal here, used for everyday transactions at a rate of one hundred silver coins to a spirit coin. Gold, however, was too common to hold any value in trade. All told, Yang Cheng’s household had just over seventy spirit stones left. With just food and cultivation expenses for himself and Old Yang, these would barely last three or four years, not counting other costs.

The eight servants stood before him, timid and cowed. Apart from the men’s sturdier frames, all bore sallow skin and the signs of malnutrition. Yang Cheng sighed. The world of cultivation was vast and awe-inspiring; legendary tales of heroes abounded, tempting many to dream. Yet for most, survival was humble and fraught. He was not accustomed to ordering people around—even Old Yang, he treated more like family than a servant.

After a few simple questions, he learned they all had families—one woman, already a grandmother in her forties, had children long since sent away to serve in other households, seldom seen even once a year. Though he felt pity, this was the world’s way; he could not play the saint. He chose them because he needed their help to build his foundation, while they could rely on him for a better life—an interdependent relationship. At the very least, life in the Yang household would be kinder than elsewhere.

Their future well-being would depend on their conduct; he needed honest, reliable people. That was why he hadn’t had Old Yang recruit war captives as guards. Though the law was harsh on servants to protect owners’ interests, these locals worked for the sake of their families. Battle-hardened, defiant war captives would be too dangerous for him and Old Yang to control.

He gave a few instructions, then had Old Yang assign the eight to the four side rooms. Beyond his own chamber, the main hall, and Old Yang’s room, only one side room remained for storage.

The variety of food in the city, whether vegetarian or meat, far surpassed anything in his past world—everything imaginable, and more he didn’t even recognize. Yet beyond the great families, little attention was paid to cuisine. Yang Cheng believed that good food was a universal pleasure, not just a necessity. Thus, this would be his point of entry.

Once everyone was settled, Old Yang had several women prepare a simple meal: rice and wild game purchased earlier. When it was ready, they set it out in the courtyard. Yang Cheng said, “Eat as much as you like, don’t hold back—there’s plenty for everyone!”

“As long as you work diligently here,” he added, “if nothing else, you’ll never go hungry again.”

Old Yang felt a pang of guilt at this—was the young master really going to squander their last reserves so freely? But for the sake of face, he could not object now.

The servants were astonished, scarcely able to believe their master’s promise, but they ate heartily. In most households, meat was rare—food was rationed, and only during celebrations might servants get a taste of meat. The two men devoured their portions ravenously, while the women ate with mixed joy and worry, perhaps thinking of family members or children who still went hungry.

After the meal, Yang Cheng assigned tasks. Old Yang was to take the women to buy hulled wheat, quality wild game, vegetables, and a list of spices and seasonings. He also instructed them to bring back three wheelbarrows.

The two men, Big Ox and Maozi, were sent to haul several waist-sized stones from the quarry.

With everyone busy, Yang Cheng left the courtyard for some fresh air—and to inquire about last night’s incident.

This was the southern district; stepping out, he was on the street. Wuzhou City, in the northeast of the Cloudflow Kingdom, was a medium-sized city-state with a massive population—nearly a hundred million. Though infrastructure lagged behind, the city’s scale dwarfed even the largest metropolises of his previous life.

“A city lord here manages as many people as a king once did,” Yang Cheng marveled with envy.

The streets bustled with endless crowds, and Yang Cheng instinctively slipped into the throng.

“Hey, did you hear? Something big happened last night!” Sure enough, acquaintances were discussing the previous evening’s events.

“Of course! The deputy commandant’s whole family was wiped out. I went to the Commandant’s Mansion this morning—over a hundred people, blood everywhere, flowing into the street. The authorities are still cleaning up.”

“That must’ve been a group—how could something so big happen without a sound?”

“No idea. Anyway, there’ll be a curfew for the next few days. The commandant is hunting for the culprits.”

“Hey, did you know? The ‘Mist Rain Devil’ Liu Changqing is coming to Wuzhou!” someone interjected, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.

“Yes, he’s coming to duel with our city’s own ‘Silver Silk Jade Sword’ Bai Muyun, head of the Bai family. It’s been years since we’ve seen such a clash of titans—this’ll be a grand event!”

“Definitely worth watching. Fights at their level will be a rare opportunity for all cultivators to learn. I hear all the sects are rushing here.”

“It’s going to be lively—so many sects around Wuzhou, the city will be packed.”

“Let’s hope those sects with grudges don’t start fighting in the city—we’ll be the ones to suffer.”

“Exactly. With all these heroes converging on Wuzhou, even the garrison won’t be able to keep order.”

The conversation quickly veered off. The slaughter of a deputy commandant’s family, it seemed, was less shocking than Liu Changqing’s duel with Bai Muyun. Yang Cheng could only sigh; no one knew the truth of last night’s massacre—who the killer was, or why the family was targeted.

It was no wonder. Bai Muyun, the “Silver Silk Jade Sword,” was famed throughout the city—the foremost cultivator of Wuzhou, head of the Bai family, the prime among the five great families. Even the city lord treated him with deference. Ten years ago, in his twenties, he had challenged and bested all the prominent clans in a single night, defeating more than thirty masters. Since then, none in Wuzhou could match him; after his conquest, he sheathed his sword and withdrew from the public eye.

Liu Changqing, meanwhile, had become a legend throughout the land in the past two years—a capricious, arrogant figure, issuing challenge after challenge as he traveled north from the south. Many renowned sect leaders and heads of noble families had fallen to him; he was at the height of his fame.

These two, each equally renowned, were sure to clash fiercely, attracting the attention of countless martial artists and commoners alike. Wuzhou was about to witness a grand spectacle.

Yang Cheng listened for a while, then withdrew with a sigh. To ride the sword into battle, to journey alone across a thousand miles—such was his dream, but one far beyond reach. For now, the only thing that mattered was to gain a foothold and secure the barest means of survival. That, above all, was his most pressing concern.