ATEG Chapter 100.1

“This one…” Tao Xi paused, unsure how to address him.

“Li Quan.”

“Senior Li.” Tao Xi bowed deeply. “Thank you for saving us.”

Just now when those skeletal remains had suddenly transformed into demons, it wasn’t that he had no way to deal with them, but his subordinates would likely not have emerged unscathed—one or two casualties would not have been impossible.

Li Chi gave a slight nod, accepting his gratitude, then lifted a foot, preparing to leave.

“Senior, please wait.” Tao Xi called out anxiously.

Seeing Li Chi pause, Tao Xi steadied his thoughts and, rather than saying anything about repaying the favor, bowed earnestly again and asked directly, “This junior is Tao Xi, a member of the Disciplinary Bureau. May I ask, Senior, what exactly happened here?”

During the great calamity, there were many evil cultivators causing trouble, but also true reclusive masters emerging from seclusion. Before a true Daoist master, one’s thoughts could not be hidden. His gratitude was genuine, but having a request was also true. Rather than dragging things out with other excuses, it was better to ask directly.

However, Li Chi did not answer directly, instead saying, “Let’s get out first, then talk.” With that, his figure vanished from the spot in a blur, and the next instant he was standing at the cave entrance, pausing there and glancing back slightly.

Inside the cave, the weapons and war chariots on several stone pillars had begun to rapidly decay, with fragments and dust falling down. Without these supports, the stone pillars themselves began to destabilize, and the entire cavern started to shake ominously.

Tao Xi and the others also reacted. Now that the dark miasma and resentful energy inside the cave had dissipated, they no longer needed to refrain from using techniques. The path they had walked for several hours previously took only a single breath to traverse back to the entrance.

Outside the entrance, the four-patterned officer who had remained outside saw a flash before his eyes and a stranger suddenly appeared. He had just raised his guard when he saw Tao Xi leading the others out of the cave. Seeing they were unharmed, he relaxed again.

As soon as Tao Xi exited the cave, he saw Li Chi standing outside with his palm loosely cupped toward the small hill in a gesture of containment. Following his gaze back toward the hill, he saw that after losing its supports, the entire hill had begun to collapse downward, the rocks and grass covering sliding down as a whole, yet without making a single sound—creating a breathtaking sense of awe.

After the entire area had settled, what had been a protruding hill had transformed into a sunken valley. The wild grass still grew firmly on it, with no sign of fallen rocks or collapsed soil visible, as if this had always been a valley.

Tao Xi looked back at Li Chi and saw that his palm, which had been loosely cupped toward the hill, had now lowered, covered by his hanging wide sleeves. This entire suppression of the hill’s collapse had shown barely any spiritual essence fluctuation—truly effortless mastery.

As a seven-patterned officer in the Disciplinary Bureau, Tao Xi naturally knew of such methods. Ordinary cultivators used techniques to cast spells, inevitably needing to circulate spiritual energy, which would create fluctuations in the spiritual essence of heaven and earth—often with imposing momentum and surging spiritual energy that looked impressive but was merely forceful manipulation. However, those who comprehended spiritual essence needed no techniques; they could manipulate spiritual essence with natural subtlety, producing no spiritual essence fluctuations—effortless mastery revealing true profundity.

Though the latter was rare, at Tao Xi’s level it was not uncommon, and he himself had some understanding of spiritual essence. However, during the great calamity, the spiritual essence of heaven and earth had become increasingly chaotic, and those who could continue to manipulate spiritual essence for casting spells were becoming increasingly rare. Anyone still able to employ such methods now was without exception a cultivator who had walked extremely far along a particular path.

Though he had been severely restricted by the environment in the mountain belly and dared not use techniques, Tao Xi had not merely walked through for nothing. He had memorized the layout inside the cave—those several pillars that had swallowed the weapons and war chariots from hundreds of years ago were arranged in a formation. Though there were many formations in the world, their basic variations were the same. These pillars were the visible components, and Tao Xi could still discern something of the formation’s function.

Besides creating that whirlpool-like environment that forced all living beings entering the mountain belly toward the center, it also had functions for gathering malevolent energy, attracting souls, and so on.

This was an ancient battlefield from seven hundred years ago where countless brave warriors of Liang had been buried. Such a place was most likely to spawn anomalies. Liang could not have left it to breed dark miasma and resentful energy—it had been examined and cleared countless times. The souls of the Liang soldiers who had died unjustly in the pit had indeed all been saved and sent to the netherworld to be reborn. The countless ghost fires in the cave were not the Liang soldiers from back then. If they really were the vengeful spirits of those Liang soldiers surviving until now, they could not possibly still be those feeble ghost fires—they would likely have become a terrifying army of the dead long ago.

The vengeful souls and malevolent energy from that ancient battlefield should indeed have all been cleared away. It was just that this land had witnessed too many deaths—the blood and flesh of the unjustly slain soldiers had soaked into the soil. Though the resentful energy had been dispelled at the time, it had still become a wasteland where only wild grass grew. Neither grain nor medicinal herbs could grow, and even goats that would gnaw grass roots bare refused to eat the wild grass that grew here. This land had therefore never been cultivated and remained barren all this time.

The ghost fires in the cave were all souls who had died recently. By their appearance, most were likely refugees who had died in the great calamity near this area. But there were indeed one or two older ghosts in the cave. At the formation’s center, among the ghost fires surrounding Li Quan, several showed blood-red light within their flames, their consciousness already confused and resentful energy alarming—if released, they would surely bring disaster.

The highest rank in the Disciplinary Bureau bore only nine wave patterns. Though those with fewer patterns were not necessarily weaker, those who were weak definitely could not earn higher-numbered wave pattern ranks. Tao Xi had a full seven wave patterns on his collar—already a rare high position in the Disciplinary Bureau. Yet those one or two great ghosts he had seen at the formation’s center were already troublesome enough for him to find challenging.

Due to these great ghosts’ excessive resentful energy, he had difficulty discerning their exact age, only roughly confirming that none of them exceeded a hundred years. Ghost cultivators less than a hundred years old who could already make him feel challenged must have gained their power not through cultivation but through resentful energy.

Their resentful energy was so concentrated and terrifying—who knew what heavy suffering they had endured in life? This naturally made Tao Xi think of those skeletal remains closer to the formation’s center—they had all died within the past twenty-three years.

From twenty-three years ago to one year ago, the great calamity had not yet begun, and Liang was not as chaotic as now. The Disciplinary Bureau still had control over the domestic situation. Tao Xi remembered very clearly that in this area around Gannan City, there had always been a six-patterned officer stationed. According to Disciplinary Bureau regulations, Liang’s territory was divided into several major regions—six-patterned officers permanently stationed at prefectures, seven-patterned officers patrolled borders once every three years, five-patterned and four-patterned cultivators led teams on ten-day inspection rounds, forming a network dense and without gaps.

Yet despite this, over twenty-three years, the Disciplinary Bureau had never discovered that this ancient battlefield had been secretly excavated again, with living people continuously sent in as sacrifices. The inner third of this vast formation was all recently dead skeletal remains! How many people had died over these twenty-three years? How had such a massive undertaking never been discovered?

Besides this, there was another point. No matter how severe the vicious energy that damaged the land from that ancient battlefield, it had been seven hundred years. A full seven hundred years—had this land still not recovered? Had this scheme been laid twenty-three years ago, or… had someone secretly acted seven hundred years ago?

This thought made Tao Xi shudder. He did not suspect problems within the Disciplinary Bureau itself. The reason the Disciplinary Bureau had such great authority and could maintain control over Liang’s complex situation was inseparable from the origin of its name.

The so-called Disciplinary Bureau did not merely establish strict discipline and close supervision for cultivators within Liang—it also meant that all members of the Disciplinary Bureau had to observe disciplines.

However, the disciplines observed by Disciplinary Bureau members differed from the precept-keeping techniques cultivated by Marquis Wu. The two were not the same practice. The precept Marquis Wu cultivated were internal, strictly governing oneself. Upon completion, one could obtain special precept-keeping divine powers. The disciplines observed by Disciplinary Bureau members were external, with much more lenient requirements—not as detailed and comprehensive in self-restriction as precept-keeping techniques, nor did they grant any precept-keeping divine powers.

Receiving disciplines in the Disciplinary Bureau was, plainly speaking, just a means of maintaining loyalty while allowing those who received disciplines to share in Liang’s national destiny—all cultivators entering the Disciplinary Bureau received as their first discipline the duty to protect Liang and the Xu clan.

As long as they received this discipline, they could enjoy the protection of Liang’s national destiny, with their own fortune flowing into Liang. Though this was so, a nation’s destiny was clearly far greater than an individual’s. With national destiny’s protection, their cultivation path would face fewer obstacles. The more disciplines received, the higher the protection from national destiny—a maximum of nine disciplines. Only by receiving more disciplines could one obtain higher positions. This was actually mutually beneficial—the more Disciplinary Bureau members there were, the greater Liang’s destiny, and the greater Liang’s destiny, the more benefits fed back to Disciplinary Bureau members.

The only concern was that if they violated their received disciplines, their cultivation foundation built upon them would necessarily collapse. This could not be concealed.

Tao Xi could roughly discern the function of this formation in the mountain. After drawing all resentful energy and spirits to the formation’s center, it would inevitably produce terrible changes. However, when they reached the center, Senior Li Quan had already been sitting there in meditation. A single melody on his qin had effortlessly dissolved the formation. Whatever this formation’s true purpose had been, it was now void.

This was a good thing, but duty demanded that the Disciplinary Bureau learn as much as possible about this matter now, for easier resolution later.

“This formation was aimed at the earth veins.” Li Chi said.

Tao Xi’s expression remained unchanged, but his heart jumped. Anything involving earth veins was no small matter, nor could there be only this one arrangement. Moreover, the opponent had been planning for who knew how many years. Though this formation had been destroyed, who knew how many others existed elsewhere? He couldn’t help feeling anxious and bowed again earnestly. “This matter is of grave importance. I beg Senior to instruct me—please do not be sparing in your teachings!”

He beseeched earnestly, but saw Li Quan slowly shake his head. “I was merely traveling when I noticed unusual spiritual essence here and descended to discover this formation. I have nothing to teach you.”

Tao Xi was troubled when he suddenly heard a voice transmission in his ear. “In northern Liang there is an ancient village called Divine Tree Village, where there are also arrangements targeting earth veins. The village has been destroyed, but remnants remain.”

He recognized this as Li Quan’s voice transmission. Without revealing anything, he raised his eyes to look at Li Quan, but Li Quan’s face showed no sign, as if that transmission had not come from him at all.

Tao Xi’s face remained still, as if he had already accepted this result, and changed the subject. “Where does Senior plan to go next?”

“To take a look at Gannan City.” Li Chi said.

“That is also our destination. May Senior travel with us?” Tao Xi smiled. His face was square and features regular, appearing around forty in age with a few white hairs at his temples. His voice was steady yet hearty, his eyes bright but not sharp—very sincere in appearance, naturally engendering goodwill.

Li Chi nodded, “Yes.”

Tao Xi excused himself briefly, first going ahead to collect the several men and horses left at the perimeter. He then wrote two letters with both text and magical encryption that would self-destruct—one he sent directly via spell, the other he gave to a four-patterned officer who had entered the underground cave with him, ordering him to carry the letter urgently back to the Liang capital.

Without need for explanation, everyone else in the team assumed he was asking Senior Li Quan to accompany them because of the underground cave incident. But Tao Xi knew in his heart it was because of that voice transmission.

The formation in the underground cave had been destroyed. Even if the Disciplinary Bureau sent more capable people, they would be able to glean only limited information. Divine Tree Village that Senior Li Quan mentioned was the key. Even if, as the senior said, Divine Tree Village had also been destroyed, being able to investigate clues from two different locations versus only one was not a simple doubling of results.

Even having walked through the underground cave himself, if he wanted to investigate this matter clearly, it would still be like finding a needle in a haystack. But if Divine Tree Village were added, and they could find intersecting points in the clues from both places, who knew how much effort could be saved. Time was opportunity.

Yet when Senior Li Quan informed him of Divine Tree Village’s clues, he had used voice transmission unknown to others. This gave Tao Xi an uneasy feeling—could Senior Li Quan be hinting that there were problems within the Disciplinary Bureau?

Tao Xi frowned tightly in his heart, though his face showed nothing. All Disciplinary Bureau members were bound by oath-disciplines, everyone wishing for Liang’s betterment, but these disciplines could not guarantee the Disciplinary Bureau was monolithic. In fact, factional struggles within the Disciplinary Bureau were no cleaner than those in court. Where there was conflict, there were gaps that could be exploited.

Besides this, though Tao Xi had confidence in the Disciplinary Bureau’s disciplines, he also understood how loose these disciplines actually were. Most of these disciplines judged by intention rather than action. If a Disciplinary Bureau member was deceived, believing what they were doing did not violate the disciplines while actually being manipulated, this was not impossible.

These thoughts, along with faces of Disciplinary Bureau colleagues, turned countless times in Tao Xi’s mind. Yet his outward behavior showed no hint of this. His respect toward Senior Li Quan contained closeness, but having suspicions even toward the Disciplinary Bureau, how could he fully trust this coincidentally encountered Senior Li Quan?

If he trusted people so easily, he probably wouldn’t have lived to become a seven-patterned officer.

The group had stopped not far from Gannan City. Following the official road, they soon saw Gannan City’s high walls. 

Gannan City was a sizable city, with countless villages and estates of various sizes distributed outside it. This season was harvest time. In past years at this season, the fields would show uniform wheat stubble after cutting, appearing dark gold under the setting sun. But now, these fields had been swallowed by wild grass over a person’s height. Without anyone to clear them, their savage vitality was enough to devour every inch of land.

These lands were good—they could grow such vigorous wild grass, they could also grow plump-grained food, which was the world’s best medicine for famine. Unfortunately, in the previous disaster, those who could tend the land had all fled.

Harvesting required time, but people needed to eat every day. When the famine first began, there were still old people willing to starve to death rather than eat their seed grain—that was their children and grandchildren’s hope for survival next year. But later no one kept seed grain anymore. If they kept it any longer, the last person in the family wouldn’t survive. But after eating the seed grain, how much longer could they live? After eating tree bark, how much longer could they live? After eating grass roots, how much longer could they live?

Famine was a disease. The earth’s thick virtue carried all things, nourishing all life—it was there. People had hands and feet, willing to expend effort—they were there. With such earth and such people both present, yet the land must lie barren and people must starve to death.

Even birds that couldn’t find a single seed in the sky to fill their bellies dared not land to rest, until their exhausted wings could no longer manage another flap and they fell straight to the ground, where hungry people rushed to snatch them up, tearing at them with pallid teeth before even plucking the feathers.

The clip-clop of horse hooves.

The Disciplinary Bureau’s people galloped past on the official road.

The official road was not meant for commoners to walk on, but at this time no one cared much about that anymore. The official road was the smoothest, easiest path to travel, meaning relative safety and energy conservation—both extremely important for refugees.