Chapter Fifteen: What Does It Have to Do with Me

Day and night passed in swift succession, and before one knew it, a day had come and gone.

Outside the Yang Residence on Yellow Maple Mountain, Wild Ox stood at the forefront, leading sixty Dao soldiers in a square formation. Each soldier wore pitch-black armor, silent and grim, exuding an aura of solemn deadliness.

At the very front, Yang Xuan and Yang Huaiyun were making their final handover.

“All the supplies are in this storage pouch! You must be careful on this journey. Though the alliance of sects commands great power, the continent is far from safe. There are always petty men willing to risk it all for a chance.

I don’t want you to be robbed of these supplies the moment you step out.”

Handing Yang Xuan a storage pouch, Yang Huaiyun spoke sternly.

Yang Xuan took the pouch with gravity, tucking it carefully into his robes. He dared not show it openly, for inside were supplies worth tens of thousands of spirit stones. Storage pouches themselves were rare enough; should someone with ill intent spot it, it would surely bring trouble.

The hierarchy within the cultivation world of the Xuanhuang Realm was severe. Sects and noble families controlled nearly all resources, while itinerant cultivators and declining clans were so poor they counted spirit stones one by one.

Poverty could drive men mad.

Every year, countless people on major roads would rob supplies, spread heretical beliefs among mortals, or betray their kin to join other races. Such folk were everywhere.

If Yang Xuan was careless, he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t be targeted.

So caution was paramount.

After bidding farewell to Yang Huaiyun, Madame Yang, his fourth brother Yang Zhen, and the others, Yang Xuan released a spirit vessel, taking his Dao soldiers and soaring into the sky.

The Xuanhuang Realm was vast beyond measure; Yellow Maple Mountain, where the Yangs lived, was but a tiny speck.

Yellow Maple Mountain lay in the southwest corner of Fuyao Prefecture, close to the border of another large province, Nan Prefecture. Within ten thousand miles, aside from Yellow Maple Mountain, there were dozens of ninth-rank powers founded by Foundation Establishment cultivators: Green Creek Isle, the Zhou family, the Sea Embracing Sect, and others.

These powers were roughly equal in strength, all under the control of the sole eighth-rank sect in Fuyao Prefecture, the Azure Cloud Sect.

Every ten years, families like the Yangs delivered their alliance tribute to the Azure Cloud Sect, who then submitted it to the Celestial Profound Sect on their behalf.

As the only eighth-rank power in Fuyao Prefecture, Azure Cloud Sect not only possessed the right to summon subordinate clans for expansion wars, but also held most of the prefecture’s economic lifelines. Aside from controlling vital cultivation resource mines, only Azure Cloud Sect owned the teleportation arrays connecting to other regions.

Yang Xuan intended to journey to Coastal Province, where the Blackwater Palace was located. The most convenient route was to go to Azure Cloud City, a settlement under Azure Cloud Sect, and use the teleportation array to reach Coastal Province directly.

Yet, the cost of ultra-long-distance teleportation was exorbitant, far beyond Yang Xuan’s means. Thus, he opted for another path: riding a large flying vessel belonging to Azure Cloud Sect.

The Xuanhuang Realm was endlessly broad.

Qi Refining cultivators could not fly; journeys over long distances were little more than fantasies.

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Even those who possessed Foundation Establishment or Golden Core cultivation rarely attempted ultra-long-range flight. After all, flight relied on magical power.

Thus, all sorts of aerial travel methods emerged: spirit vessels, flying artifacts, large flying ships, cities floating in the air, and more.

Yang Xuan considered using the spirit vessel Yang Huaiyun had given him, but its materials were far too inferior. It could fly, but its speed was sluggish, slower even than Yang Xuan’s own flight. If he took it to Coastal Province, the Blackwater Palace’s expansion war might be over before he arrived.

So, to save spirit stones and hasten his journey, a large flying vessel was the best choice.

Aboard the spirit vessel, Yang Xuan steered as he flew, scanning his surroundings for any signs of trouble.

On the whole, travel within Fuyao Prefecture was relatively safe. Though local sects and noble families had their conflicts, it hadn’t escalated to open warfare.

Moreover, although the Celestial Profound Sect was the closest power to the demon clans, Fuyao Prefecture itself was not near the demon territories. Three other provinces lay to the south; should the demon clans wish to enter Fuyao Prefecture, they would have to cross those first.

Of course, there were still demon clans and remnants of divine spirits within Fuyao Prefecture itself, but most were hidden, seldom daring to attack passing spirit vessels openly unless fortune was particularly foul.

Still, caution was never amiss.

Never mind that two years hence the Celestial Profound Sect would be inexplicably destroyed—even without that, Yang Xuan would never entrust his safety to luck.

In his previous life, while playing games, Yang Xuan had seen many players ambushed and killed due to carelessness.

Most of the ambushers were those demon clans whom cultivators considered sly and hidden.

Demon clans were a vast collection of races. Some were cleverer than humans, some as dumb as beasts.

The stupid ones didn’t care if they’d be hunted down later. All they knew was that humans were delicious, and they wanted to eat.

Fuyao was mountainous. After leaving Yellow Maple Mountain, it was rare to encounter cities along the way.

After flying for around two hours, Yang Xuan stopped his spirit vessel atop a mountain.

“Rest for half an hour!”

He let the Dao soldiers off for guard duty, then took out a spirit stone to replenish his magical power.

Small spirit vessels could not be powered by spirit stones, relying mainly on a cultivator’s magical energy. Although the drain was less than flying unaided, Yang Xuan dared not expend all his power at once.

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As always, when caution is needed, caution must be exercised.

He set himself a rule: never let his magical power drop below sixty percent while traveling.

This was a warning from Yang Huaiyun.

In Yang Huaiyun’s words: “Give yourself a chance to survive!”

Crude words, but wise.

Cultivator duels depend on magical energy. If trouble strikes and you’re out of power, escape is impossible.

So Yang Xuan was happy to be cautious.

As the saying goes: take a cautious step, and the world opens before you!

Half an hour later, Yang Xuan was fully restored and ready to press on.

“Fellow Daoist, fellow Daoist!”

As he traveled through the sky, Yang Xuan heard someone calling out.

He glanced down and saw two middle-aged men in Daoist robes shouting up at his spirit vessel. They looked bedraggled; one was even lying on the ground.

“Master?” Wild Ox looked to Yang Xuan.

“Pretend you didn’t see them,” Yang Xuan replied calmly, withdrawing his gaze.

He had no idea what was happening below. Perhaps the two were truly in distress.

But what concern was it to him?

If they really were cultivators in trouble, so be it; but what if it was a trap?

Who could guarantee whether these two were good or evil? In the cultivation novels of his previous life, such scenarios appeared often.

Even monsters liked to disguise themselves in this way to deceive.

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