Chapter Thirty-Two: An Ambitious Scheme

“What do you know? Why would Magistrate Chen leave the prosperous Three Rivers region to serve here in Danling County? Do you really think he came just to kill a few cultivators from the Wahua Society, as though that alone would earn him glory and merit? Since he was willing to humble himself and come to such a remote place, it must be for something far grander—perhaps to forge true gold from lead.”

The so-called Three Rivers referred to the three counties surrounding Shenluo: Hedong, Hezhong, and Hexi. These counties encircled Shenluo, making it the very heart of the realm and the most flourishing center under heaven. In such places, even a county magistrate might outrank a prefect from any other region. Compared to the Three Rivers, the outlying counties were barren wastelands in the eyes of the noble scions of Shenluo. Rarely would a son of a great family leave the Three Rivers to serve in a lowly county like Danling—unless, as the magistrate suggested, there was something of immense value at stake.

The magistrate’s wife suddenly understood, her voice involuntarily rising, “Are they after Mount Wuji?”

Zhou Lai, the magistrate, said nothing more, only casting a meaningful glance at his wife. In that moment, she grasped the truth at last and understood why her husband refused to get involved. If the Chen clan from Hezhong truly intended to attack Mount Wuji, and if such a feat was to be the stepping stone for that Magistrate Chen, then he must be a core scion of the Chen family. Such machinations surely involved the grooming of an heir and the shifting of family power. Anyone who dared intervene would find themselves locked in a death struggle with the Chen clan. Even their rivals at court would hesitate to press the matter too far, for every great family faced the challenge of supporting their next generation into power.

Given all this, what hope did a mere county magistrate like Zhou Lai have if he tried to thwart the Chen family’s designs? It would be suicide.

Yet, Zhou Lai was mistaken on one account. The Chen clan of Hezhong, like all great families, possessed secret arts for siphoning the official fortune of the government. But what Wang Zhenling practiced was not taught by Magistrate Chen. To speak plainly, Wang Zhenling was but a pawn—an expendable asset, not a trusted confidant. It stood to reason that such vital arts would not be passed to him. Even if Chen did impart such means, they would pale in comparison to the power of the Celestial Lotus Seed combined with the Nine Heavens Longevity Diagram.

Nevertheless, while Zhou Lai’s guess about Wang Zhenling’s methods was off the mark, his insight into Magistrate Chen’s motives was almost entirely accurate.

Wang Zhenling, however, knew nothing of this at present. Since his method was not bestowed by Magistrate Chen, he lacked the confidence to continue. After being warned by the county magistrate, he dared not siphon the official fortune any further. Moreover, the City God outside watched him like a tiger stalking its prey, making Wang Zhenling even more cautious. This caution, however, caused his cultivation to slow to an intolerable crawl, filling him with resentment toward the City God.

A magistrate could not monitor official fortune every day; otherwise, Wang Zhenling would have been caught long ago, not left to the mercy of the City God’s ghostly enforcers. It was only due to the City God’s meddling that his cultivation was delayed. To obstruct one’s path to fortune is akin to killing one’s parents—such was the depth of Wang Zhenling’s grievance. Yet, as the City God was nominally an official of the government but ultimately beyond the reach of a mere rural bailiff like Wang Zhenling—and even the magistrate himself would have little authority over such a spirit—there was nothing to be done. After all, mortal officials served for only a handful of years, while a local City God might remain entrenched for centuries, their influence rooted deep.

No wonder the imperial court so dreaded the spiritual bureaucracy, constantly seeking ways to restrain their involvement in worldly affairs.

Fortunately for Wang Zhenling, the City God of Danling County had not ruled for so long, the temple having been established only two or three decades prior. Unable to cultivate in the county seat, Wang Zhenling, restless and stifled, reported to the overseer that he intended to patrol the countryside. The overseer dared not interfere in his affairs, and Wang Zhenling notified him only for the sake of appearances.

He then boarded a carriage, taking with him several dozen rural constables, and set out into the county. He believed that once away from the magistrate’s office, he could freely siphon the official fortune, beyond the reach of the City God. After all, City Gods presided over their own cities; once outside the bounds of the seat of government, he would no longer be under their jurisdiction.

But that night, lodging at a local outpost, he was once again visited by the City God’s ghostly attendants.

The outpost administered law and order for a ten-li radius, serving also as a relay station for travelers and officials. Officials like Wang Zhenling received warm hospitality, with food and drink provided, whereas ordinary travelers were not so favored.

Yet, none of this mattered to him. The most important thing was his ability to cultivate. At midnight, in the rear courtyard of the outpost, Wang Zhenling began his practice, only to find the outpost’s fortune exceedingly thin. It could not compare to the county seat—indeed, even his former rural outpost surpassed this place. The outpost oversaw only ten li of territory, a mere thread at the empire’s farthest edge, and so its official fortune was meager.

As soon as he began his lunar meditation, Wang Zhenling nearly drained the outpost’s fortune dry and hurriedly halted his practice in fright. Still, it mattered little. Even if he could not siphon official fortune, he had other methods of cultivation—it would simply be slower, that was all. Moreover, by drawing on the essence of sun and moon, he could continue to hone his Solar Ghost-Cleaving Sword and Lunar Demon-Slashing Sword techniques—no real loss there.

At this, Wang Zhenling released his lunar meditation. A current of white energy surged from the crown of his head, coalescing into a small figure. Though its features remained indistinct, its limbs and head were obvious, even its face partially formed, like a flower seen through mist.

Naturally, this was Wang Zhenling’s spirit leaving his body.

Energy solidifies the divine chamber; the divine chamber nurtures the primal spirit. Through diligent cultivation over this period, Wang Zhenling’s powers had advanced considerably.

“In a few more months, once my divine chamber expands by another inch and my primal spirit is fully stabilized, I will truly enter the phase of Spirit Departure.”

The first stage of Spirit Departure is called Spirit Germination. When the primal spirit starts to bud, one can wield supernatural powers and even manipulate objects with the spirit alone.