The two were brothers by blood, one a chosen son of the Daoist academy, the other a recluse in the corner of their family estate.

Such a gulf between heaven and earth might drive a man mad, yet Wang Changji’s face betrayed no resentment. From beginning to end, he ate his meal with serene focus.

It was as if eating was the most important thing in the world.

His pace was measured, his eating meticulous.

He finished every bit of his braised pork knuckle and greens, swallowing the last grain of rice. Only then did he look at his younger brother, his voice gentle, “Changxiang, what is it you wish to discuss?”

“Nothing of great importance,” Wang Changxiang replied. “I merely returned from a mission and thought to chat with my brother.”

“Good kitty, eat your greens; only meat is bad for you.” Wang Changji stroked the plump ginger cat gnawing on a pork knuckle, coaxing it softly, before turning back to Wang Changxiang. “Speak, you seem troubled.”

“We investigated the disappearances in Little Lin Town. Upon arrival, we found it shrouded in a dense fog, one that even the Breath of Dragonwind could not disperse. The whole town teemed with wandering souls, arranged in a Nine Palaces Wandering Souls Formation… Little Ju!” Wang Changxiang suddenly roared.

The corpulent ginger cat, impatient with Wang Changji’s attempts to feed it greens, had lashed out, leaving three bloody scratches on his hand.

“Such ferocity,” Wang Changji sighed with mild resignation. Abandoning his efforts to get Little Ju to eat greens, he covered the wound on his right hand with his left. “These Daoist formations and such, I do not understand them.”

Wang Changxiang lowered his head, his voice softer. “I simply felt the need to tell you, brother.”

Wang Changji rubbed his brow. “Speak, then. Speak.”

“Do you know, brother, that someone used all the living souls of Little Lin Town, combined with years of wandering spirits from the Maplewood City Region, to conjure a phantom of the Gate of Ghosts before Lord Wei’s arrival!” Wang Changxiang seemed almost like a child seeking praise.

“A phantom of the Gate of Ghosts? Is it powerful?”

“To pay such a price, it must be! With the Gate of Ghosts phantom, one can communicate with the Netherworld at any time. The power of Netherworld Daoist techniques will be enhanced by at least half! Arts like Ghost Banishment can transcend ranks entirely!” He lowered his gaze once more. “I know not what evil the fiend behind this will unleash.”

“That is the concern of the Enforcers’ Office. If Wei Quji fails, there is the Prefect, if the City Academy falters, there is the Regional Academy, and behind them, the National Academy. Do not fret yourself,” Wang Changji soothed.

Little Ju had finished the pork knuckle, giving the plate of greens not so much as a glance. It licked its paw and sauntered off with a haughty air.

Wang Changji rose to clear the table.

“I will not keep you,” he said before entering the house.

Wang Changxiang watched his brother’s back disappear inside, then turned to leave. As he passed the recliner where Little Ju was resting, he flicked a finger.

A nearly invisible wind blade flashed.

Little Ju leaped up, looking around in startled confusion. Half of its long whiskers floated to the ground.

“Dare scratch my brother again…hmph.” Wang Changxiang left with a smirk.

He remembered a time, in their youth, when his brother had yearned for Daoist techniques and the extraordinary world. Now, no matter what he spoke of, that spark was gone.

It was as if he had resigned himself to this life.

Wang Changxiang’s steps remained heavy.

…

Today, the instructor lectured on the Ding-Rank Middle Grade Daoist technique, Flame Blade, an advancement of the Ding-Rank Low Grade Fire Attachment, and one of the foundational techniques of the Fire element.

It involved gathering flames into a blade, directly harming opponents with the searing Fire elemental power. It was also quite effective against unclean things like Yin spirits.

At this level, Daoist techniques were already superior to weapons forged from ordinary iron.

Jiang Wang had memorized the hand seals and essential points of this technique, but his thoughts drifted to Wei Yan’s long saber. Its edge was unparalleled, certainly not made of common metal. With Wei Yan’s strength, ordinary iron would only be a burden.

He then thought of Li Jianqiu’s sword, always hanging at his waist, and suspected it must be extraordinary.

A wave of envy washed over him. His own sword had been half-destroyed after slaying the wronged spirit, and he had spent money to replace it with another ordinary steel blade. He could not afford a truly powerful weapon, nor did he have the connections to acquire one.

He wondered what weapons those martial artists who entered the Dao through martial arts wielded, and what their power was.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the atmosphere in the class. Only when Ling He nudged him did he snap back to attention.

The lecturer, a stern and old-fashioned man of nearly sixty, was named Xiao. The students secretly called him Ironface Xiao.

Ironface Xiao had finished explaining the technique and randomly selected a few students to demonstrate. When Fang Heling was chosen, he had surprisingly managed to complete the Daoist technique, even if the flame blade flickered unsteadily. Still, he had completed it.

Even Ironface Xiao seemed pleased, but Fang Heling suddenly said, “Senior Brother Jiang Wang opened his meridians before me; perhaps he would like to try this technique as well. If he has any difficulties, he can seek guidance from our esteemed instructor.”

Ironface Xiao’s gaze landed on the distracted Jiang Wang.

This is bad, Jiang Wang thought. He rose from his cushion and said honestly, “I have not yet laid my foundation.”

Fang Heling, who had entered the Inner Sect at the same time, could already use Daoist techniques, while he had not yet successfully laid his foundation. The other students’ gazes were odd.

“Does not laying one’s foundation excuse one from listening?” Ironface Xiao glared. He hated students who tried to get away with things, those who did not cherish the path of the extraordinary, treating it merely as a means to flaunt their status among commoners.

“I was wrong,” Jiang Wang admitted readily, bowing his head.

Ironface Xiao said coldly, “Go back and transcribe the *Violet Empyrean Sutra* one hundred times. You need not attend my classes until you are finished.”

“Yes,” Jiang Wang replied, inwardly groaning. The full name of the *Violet Empyrean Sutra* was the *Supreme Violet Empyrean Lofty Scripture*, the foundational scripture of the Jade Capital lineage. Every Daoist of the Jade Capital Sect was intimately familiar with it. There was really no need to transcribe it. This was purely punishment.

Most importantly, the entire scripture was nearly thirty thousand words… How long would it take to transcribe?

But he knew he could not refuse, or Ironface Xiao might roll up his sleeves and beat him.

For the rest of the lesson, Jiang Wang focused his energy, not daring to slack off. Finally, when Ironface Xiao left with his hands behind his back, Fang Heling sauntered over with a smug look.

“Oh, Senior Brother Jiang, I am truly sorry. I didn’t realize you hadn’t laid your foundation yet!” In cultivation, seniority was based on cultivation level. Fang Heling had naturally changed “Senior Brother” to “Junior Brother,” his tone full of regret. “After opening my meridians, it took me fifty-three days to lay my foundation. I felt it was too slow and was ashamed. I thought that with Junior Brother Jiang’s past prowess, you would have already laid your foundation… Alas, what a mess.”

The Foundation Array used by the Zhuangguo Academy, the Regression Array, had eighty-one array points. With two Dao essences gained from cultivating by charging the meridians twice a day, fifty-three days to lay the foundation was not slow. There were also many times when progress was halted due to errors in moving the array points.

The fastest record for laying the foundation in the entire City Academy belonged to Zhu Weiwo, who succeeded in nine days, surpassing all previous records. From that unbelievable speed, his Dao Vein True Spirit could not possibly be of Jiang Wang’s Earthworm True Spirit level. But the specific level of his True Spirit was a personal matter and could not be known.

Generally speaking, sixty to ninety days was the norm for disciples of the Maplewood City Academy.

It was no wonder Fang Heling was pleased with himself.

He did not hide the challenge in his eyes. He very much wanted to see the proud young man before him become enraged. He was already visualizing how he would use his Daoist techniques to spectacularly defeat this bumpkin who only relied on his swordsmanship.

But Jiang Wang merely smiled and turned away.

No anger, no concern.