Chapter Fifty-Five: Autumn Pool City

After accepting the gift, it wasn’t long before the clan chief sent someone to summon them. The three, together with the old woman and her grandson, made their way to the village square. The square itself wasn’t large, but now several cloth mats had been laid out, seemingly for people to meditate upon. In the middle stood a massive iron cauldron, still suspended over a fire that had not yet gone out, with an enticing aroma already wafting from within.

The clan chief, rubbing his head awkwardly, explained, “Some of these children are tasting spirit beast meat for the first time; it may awaken their sense of qi. These mats are for their cultivation afterward. I hope our benefactor won’t mind.”

“This is their chance, and I am their blessing,” replied Dao Sansheng. “I’ve already agreed. Besides, the three of us can’t possibly finish this whole fish. Since everyone is ready, let’s eat.”

As soon as Dao Sansheng gave permission, the children surged forward. Regardless of how hot the cauldron was, they plunged their chopsticks in, helping themselves without hesitation.

Dao Sansheng and his companions did not need to serve themselves; someone thoughtfully brought the cooked fish to them. Wang Xiaohong devoured several bowls in quick succession—so many that Dao Sansheng lost count.

An hour later, Dao Sansheng bid farewell to the villagers, and the three resumed their journey east.

Another week passed. The monotony began to wear on them; every day was just endless travel, surviving on fasting pills, and unbearable boredom.

It was then that the soul disc within the gourd sent a message to Dao Sansheng. “Master, the three of you should focus on cultivation. Let me pilot the gourd and fly you along your route. Just tell me the way—I can travel much faster. This way, you can all cultivate on the gourd during the journey.”

Dao Sansheng was delighted. He hadn’t realized the gourd was capable of flight. Soon, the soul disc expanded the gourd until it was the size of a small boat. Dao Sansheng climbed aboard and called for his two companions to join him.

Time passed unnoticed in cultivation. In a blink, nearly three months had passed since they’d left Heaven-Forging Valley. The trio sat cross-legged in meditation, eating fasting pills when hungry, drinking water when thirsty, traveling tirelessly. At last, they were approaching Qiuchi City in Fangtian Prefecture.

A day later, the outline of a city appeared before them. This city was much larger than Kunling Prefecture, which Dao Sansheng had visited before—at least five times its size. Yet, viewed from above, Qiuchi City’s residential districts were dilapidated, far inferior to Kunling Prefecture’s, and even worse than Chichi County in Donglin Prefecture.

This was the sect’s allocation of resources. Dao Sansheng had anticipated it would be poor, but reality still fell short of his expectations. Seeing it now, he could only accept it in silence.

“Are you sure this godforsaken place is the one?” Wang Xiaohong asked, pointing down at the city.

“Yes! I think it’s quite nice,” Dao Sansheng replied with a cheerful smile.

The other two looked at him with undisguised disdain, unwilling to speak further. If someone called him a fool, no one would doubt it, so low did his intelligence seem.

Only Dao Sansheng retained some spirit; the others were listless as they entered the city. With no one guarding the gates, their passage was unimpeded. Following the address given by the sect, they soon found the appointed shop.

The shop lay on the busiest street in Qiuchi City, right at the center. Despite its prime location, there were few pedestrians, and most shop doors hung loosely ajar.

The shop was painted in the same colors as those in Heaven-Forging Valley’s market, and its signboard bore the same name. It seemed that the sect’s shops looked identical across the continent.

Dao Sansheng led the way. The paint on the shop’s door was so worn as to be indistinguishable. He pushed open the door; the shop was empty, and, most peculiarly, there was not a single item for sale. Was this really a shop?

At the sound of the door, a man in his early forties descended from upstairs. He had never seen these young faces before—newcomers were a rarity in Qiuchi City—so he recognized them immediately.

“Guests, the shop is closed. If you wish to make purchases, please go to Zixian City next door,” he said, pointing east.

Qiuchi City in Fangtian Prefecture was separated from Zixian City in Zixian Prefecture by only a river. The proximity explained the shopkeeper’s suggestion and summed up the current state of Qiuchi City in a few words.

“I’m not here to buy,” Dao Sansheng explained. “I am the disciple sent by Heaven-Forging Valley to take over the shop.”

The man’s expression brightened at once. “So you’re a fellow disciple! Please, come upstairs so we may speak.”

He quickly descended to lead the way, and the three followed him up.

The upper floor was spacious, with display cases showcasing various magical artifacts. Beside them stood a tea table; stains on its surface suggested someone had just poured tea.

The man hastily offered seats and filled their cups, setting the teapot aside before beginning to speak.

“I am an outer disciple of Heaven-Forging Valley, sent to manage this shop due to poor progress in cultivation. Yet, as you can see, business has failed completely. I, Zhao Jin, have disappointed our sect,” he said, his tone sorrowful. It was clear he had tried everything, but the shop remained lifeless, leaving him with unspent ambition and a heavy heart. The sight of Dao Sansheng and his companions finally prompted this confession.

“I notice Qiuchi City lacks vitality. Why is that? I am newly arrived, and know little of the situation. Please, enlighten me.”

In Heaven-Forging Valley, outer disciples who made little progress in cultivation were often sent to manage sect assets. Leaving the sect meant their status dropped; henceforth, they must call every sect member they met ‘senior brother’ and could only refer to themselves as ‘junior.’

Dao Sansheng’s question made Zhao Jin ponder. He’d known of the city’s plight for a long time but had never truly reflected on its causes, always assuming business depended solely on management.

“Now that you mention it, senior brother, I recall that Qiuchi City was once densely populated. Its name derives from the legendary Qiuchi Pavilion, once the continent’s foremost sect, just west of the city. At its peak, Qiuchi City housed over ten million people. Now, even a million is considered a lot. With so few people, of course business is poor—is that what you mean, senior brother?”

Zhao Jin’s eyes lit up in sudden realization. Dao Sansheng’s few words had solved a puzzle he’d pondered for years. Admiration welled up in him—Dao Sansheng was indeed extraordinary.

And indeed, Dao Sansheng was a talent from another world, well-versed in modern economics and the structure of societies. Most people on Fengxing Continent focused on cultivation; few studied commerce, which explained their economic backwardness.

“But I have another question,” Dao Sansheng began, and Zhao Jin leaned forward eagerly.

“Do most people of Qiuchi City buy their goods and do their business across the river in Zixian City and Zixian Palace?”

It was as if Dao Sansheng were a living oracle; his insight was uncanny, as though he had lived here for years.

“You’re absolutely right. Most people here make their living in Zixian City. Senior brother, you are exactly right.”

Dao Sansheng had already deduced it. Zixian City had completely drained Qiuchi City’s resources, especially in this cultivation world where crossing the river took less than fifteen minutes—easier than driving a car. No wonder the shops on Qiuchi City’s main street were all shuttered.

Yet this proximity to Zixian City also presented new opportunities. He, too, could compete for resources in Zixian City. This prime location, handed to him, would surely make his rivals weep.