The carriage wheels rolled over the official road, producing a monotonous “rumbling” sound.

This sound became the fading background noise of Qingshi Town.

The carriage did not travel at breakneck speed through the night.

As soon as dusk began to settle, the cart driver, Old Chen, pulled on the reins, steering the carriage to the leeward side of a gentle slope.

Not far away, a small stream gurgled, its sound exceptionally clear in the night.

“Gentlemen, we’ll rest here tonight,” Old Chen said, jumping down from the driver’s seat and deftly unhitching the horses. “Traveling at night wears out the horses and makes people anxious. This area is open, close to water, safe.”

Xu Qing emerged from the carriage, surveying the surroundings.

The wilderness was silent, only the rustling of wind through grass.

He nodded. “Uncle Chen is experienced. We’ll follow your lead.”

Su Ming got down afterwards. He walked to the stream, scooped up a handful of water to wash his face. The icy stream water refreshed him.

Soon, a campfire was lit.

Orange-red flames danced, dispelling the chill of the autumn night, casting three swaying shadows on the ground.

Old Chen fished a hard, flatbread from his pocket and took big bites, washing it down with water from his waterskin.

Xu Qing, meanwhile, took out the notebook he never parted with from his blue homespun cloth bundle, along with a piece of charcoal pencil.

By the firelight, he meticulously recorded in his notebook.

“Twenty-third year of the Qiyuan era of Daxing, autumn, the third day of the ninth month. Departed Qingshi Town, traveled approximately forty li, camped below Apricot Blossom Ridge. Cart fare prepaid two hundred wen, provisions…”

His handwriting was neat, meticulous, as if he were transcribing a classical text.

Su Ming watched him, not disturbing.

Lin Yu’s lazy voice sounded in Su Ming’s mind. “We handle the fighting, he handles the money and accounts. Perfect match!”

Su Ming replied mentally, “Brother Xu is a gentleman, not comparable to a mere accountant.”

“Hey, that’s what makes it good. A gentleman loves wealth, but acquires it through proper means. Trustworthy.”

Old Chen finished half his flatbread, drank some water, and sighed.

“Gentlemen, is this your first time heading to the capital?”

Xu Qing stopped writing and looked up. “Yes, Uncle Chen. You seem very familiar with this route.”

“Familiar, too familiar.” Old Chen tapped the mud off his shoe sole with his pipe. “Make this trip at least seven or eight times a year. But this year’s situation is different from previous years.”

He lowered his voice, gesturing southward with his chin.

“Unsettled.”

“A few days ago, on my way back from a delivery, just outside Luocheng, I ran into a group fleeing from Yingzhou in the south. Whole families, a miserable sight. Said there’s a severe drought there, crops failed completely, the government’s relief grain is delayed, so they had to come out seeking a way to survive.”

Old Chen’s face was full of wrinkles left by wind and hardship, looking even deeper under the firelight.

“When people are hungry, they’ll do anything. I’ve heard that on several southern roads, some have already turned to banditry. We’re on the official road, fine during the day, but at night we must keep our eyes sharp.”

Xu Qing’s expression turned serious. He noted Old Chen’s words in his notebook too, drawing a circle at the end as a key mark.

“Thank you for the warning, Uncle Chen. Tonight, we’ll take turns keeping watch.”

Su Ming spoke up.

Xu Qing took out two pieces of dried meat wrapped in oil paper from his bag, handing one to Old Chen and the other to Su Ming.

“Uncle Chen, you’ve worked hard. Have something to fill your stomach.”

Old Chen looked at the glossy dried meat, chuckled, didn’t stand on ceremony, and accepted it.

Su Ming took the dried meat, held it near the fire to warm it. The fat sizzled, aroma wafting.

He noticed Xu Qing himself was still eating the most ordinary flatbread.

He broke off half of his warmed dried meat and offered it to Xu Qing.

“Let’s eat together.”

Xu Qing was taken aback, about to decline, but met Su Ming’s calm gaze.

He said no more, accepted it, and ate it silently in small bites.

The night deepened.

Xu Qing and Old Chen had already wrapped themselves in blankets and fallen asleep by the carriage, emitting soft snores.

Su Ming sat cross-legged by the campfire, adding a dry branch.

He closed his eyes and extended his spiritual sense.

The surrounding world instantly became different.

The sound of wind, insect chirps, the crackling of burning flames all became crystal clear, as if right by his ear.

His perception spread out silently in all directions like water.

He “heard” a night owl landing on a dead branch a li away, preening its feathers.

He “heard” several small fish chasing and playing among rocks downstream.

He could even vaguely “sense” that about two li southeast, there was another campfire, along with over a dozen chaotic, noisy auras. Those auras carried hunger, exhaustion, and a trace of barely noticeable restlessness.

Refugees.

Old Chen was telling the truth.

“Not bad, improvement.” Lin Yu’s voice held a note of satisfaction. “The scanning radius of this human radar can already cover a small village.”

“Master, I sensed them.”

“Mhm, just a bunch of pitiful, hungry people. Far from us. As long as they’re not stupid, they won’t provoke a carriage with official travel passes.”

Su Ming opened his eyes, looking up at the low-hanging starry sky.

The Milky Way was brilliant, eternal and unchanging.

Under this sky, some studied hard in their studies, some toiled for their livelihood, some slept peacefully in warm beds, and others endured hunger in the cold wilderness.

Teacher Zhou said the capital’s wind could kill.

But in this world, it wasn’t just the capital’s wind that could kill.

On the third day of travel, the outline of a majestic city appeared on the distant horizon.

Luocheng had arrived.

Compared to Yunshuo Prefecture, Luocheng’s city walls were slightly lower, but still solid and thick, covered with marks of wind and rain erosion.

The moat was wide, the drawbridge long since lowered.

The city gate was a bustling throng of people. Those pushing carts, carrying loads on shoulder poles, driving donkeys, all mixed together, forming a long queue waiting for the soldiers’ inspection.

When it was their carriage’s turn, a soldier who looked like a squad leader walked over, an impatient expression on his face.

“Where from? Where to? Travel passes!”

The cart driver, Old Chen, offered a smile and handed over the passes.

The squad leader took them, gave a cursory glance, was about to wave them through when his gaze halted.

He saw on the pass, besides Old Chen’s information, two lines clearly written: “Daxing Bingchen Examination Cycle New Provincial Graduates Su Ming, Xu Qing.”

The squad leader’s expression changed instantly.

The impatience on his face vanished without a trace, replaced by an almost fawning respect.

He bent at the waist, respectfully returning the passes to Old Chen with both hands, his tone turning three times more polite.

“So it’s two Provincial Graduate gentlemen! This lowly one failed to recognize your eminence, my offense! I beg your forgiveness, gentlemen!”

He turned and shouted at several soldiers still slowly inspecting pedestrians nearby.

“All of you, get out of the way! Blind fools! If you delay the gentlemen entering the city, I’ll skin you!”

The previously congested gate passage was instantly cleared.

The squad leader personally ran to the carriage side, bowing again toward the carriage curtain.

“Gentlemen, please!”

Xu Qing, inside the carriage, saw all this clearly. His face showed no expression, but his eyes were somewhat complex.

Su Ming remained calm as usual.

The carriage smoothly entered the city.

The scene inside the city was at least ten times more prosperous than Qingshi Town.

The main street paved with bluestone slabs was broad and tidy. Shops lined both sides in rows: wine houses, tea houses, silk shops, money shops… signboards and banners fluttered in the wind, shop assistants’ cries rose and fell.

“Brother Su, let’s find an inn first, then go check the market,” Xu Qing suggested.

“Good, as you arrange.”

Old Chen took them to an inn.

The inn wasn’t large, but clean and tidy. The innkeeper, seeing their status as Provincial Graduates, was even more attentive, immediately arranging the two best rooms.

After settling their luggage, Xu Qing pulled Su Ming out.

He didn’t go to the seemingly lively wine houses, but headed straight into several bustling, noisy alleys.

This was Luocheng’s rice and cloth market.

Xu Qing seemed to have a natural nose for these places.

He entered a grain shop, grabbed a handful of rice, weighed it in his hand, sniffed it.

“Shopkeeper, how much for this coarse rice?”

“You have a good eye, sir! Top-quality official field rice, thirty-five wen per dou!” the pot-bellied shopkeeper said.

“Qingshi Town, twenty-eight wen per dou,” Xu Qing put down the rice and said flatly.

The shopkeeper’s expression changed slightly, re-examining this plainly dressed young man.

“You’re an expert too, sir. Fine, seeing you’re a scholar, I’ll give it to you for thirty-two wen. Can’t go lower.”

Xu Qing shook his head, said nothing more, and pulled Su Ming out of the grain shop.

“Rice prices nearly twenty percent higher than Qingshi Town, salt prices up fifteen percent,” he walked, rapidly recording in his small notebook. “Luocheng is a transportation hub, prices should be more stable. It seems the southern drought’s effects are starting to show.”

Su Ming, watching his focused demeanor, felt admiration.

Xu Qing’s keenness didn’t come from dead book learning, but was honed bit by bit in the markets, among the daily necessities of life.

Next, Xu Qing took Su Ming into a bookshop.

This bookshop was several times larger than Xu Qing’s bookstall in Qingshi Town. Rows of bookshelves were filled with various books.

Xu Qing was like a fish in water.

He didn’t look at the classics or histories, but headed straight to a corner where stacks of newly printed contemporary essay collections were placed.

He picked one up, flipping through it rapidly.

“‘Capital Literary Essence,’ collects new works by several famous masters in the capital this year,” the shopkeeper, a thin middle-aged man, walked over. “You have a good eye, young master.”

“Shopkeeper, do you know who the chief examiners for this year’s Metropolitan Examination might be?” Xu Qing asked.

“That’s hard to say,” the shopkeeper shook his head. “But currently, the most esteemed in the capital are still the Grand Secretary Zhang, and the Hanlin Academy Chancellor, Lord Wang. Their literary styles, one majestic and vigorous, the other steep and sharp, both masterful hands.”

Xu Qing asked a few more questions about the capital’s major scholarly schools and literati gatherings. The shopkeeper answered fluently.

Finally, Xu Qing picked two of the latest contemporary essay compilations and paid.

“Brother Xu, you are…” Su Ming was curious.

“Know yourself, know your enemy,” Xu Qing put the books into his travel pack. “The examination hall is like a battlefield. While the essay’s quality is paramount, if one can somewhat gauge the chief examiners’ preferences, it adds a bit more chance of success.”

Su Ming nodded.

Xu Qing’s pragmatism made him feel inadequate.

As the two prepared to leave, Su Ming’s steps suddenly paused.

“Huh?” Lin Yu’s voice sounded in his mind, carrying a trace of surprise.

Following Lin Yu’s guidance, Su Ming’s gaze landed on the entrance of a pharmacy across the street.

The pharmacy was named “Hundred Herbs Hall,” its facade simple and classic.

On the most prominent counter, laid with red cloth, sat an old mountain ginseng under a glass cover.

The ginseng was plump in form, with numerous fibrous roots. A wooden sign stood beside it, reading “Shop’s Treasure, Fifty-Year-Old Mountain Ginseng.”

In Su Ming’s perception, this ginseng actually faintly emitted a weak vitality, completely different from the surrounding plants.

That vitality, though not even one ten-thousandth of his own backyard ancient well’s, truly existed.

“Master, this ginseng…”

“Mhm, somewhat interesting,” Lin Yu commented. “Its spiritual energy is pitifully thin, at most thirty years of age, yet dares claim fifty. But for mortals, this thing truly is a good life-saving treasure.”

“It seems good things exist in the mortal world, just hidden in obscure corners, or treated as mortal treasures,” Lin Yu’s voice held a playful note.

After resting a day in Luocheng, the two set off again.

The further north they went, the heavier the atmosphere on the official road became.

Refugees began appearing by the roadside in twos and threes.

They were sallow and thin, eyes dull and numb, sitting by the road in tattered clothes, staring blankly at passing carriages and horses.

Some children, unable to bear the hunger, would follow behind carriages, extending grimy little hands, silently begging.

Xu Qing took some provisions from his bundle and distributed them to those children.

But there were too many refugees. The provisions he carried were soon depleted.

He silently returned to the carriage, saying nothing, only the frequency of his notebook entries increased.

They reached the important town of Xiangfan five days later.

Xiangfan had high walls and deep moats, a military stronghold for north-south traffic.

The inspection at the city gate was several times stricter than Luocheng’s.

A long queue stretched for several li.

As they queued waiting to enter the city, several idlers in worn short jackets, looking shiftless, sauntered over.

Their gazes, with ill intent, swept over the several bulging pieces of luggage on the carriage.

The leader was a one-eyed man with a fierce, menacing scar on his face.

He walked to the carriage side, lightly tapping the carriage with a short stick in his hand.

“Two bosses, looks like you’re heading to the capital for the exams?” The one-eyed man grinned, revealing yellow teeth. “This road isn’t easy. My brothers and I happen to be free. How about we escort you for a stretch, ensure your safety?”

The cart driver Old Chen’s face changed. He tightened his grip on the horsewhip.

Inside the carriage, Xu Qing also tensely gripped the self-defense short cudgel he carried, his palms sweaty.

Su Ming lifted the carriage curtain and stepped out.

He didn’t look at the ruffians first, but gave Old Chen and Xu Qing a reassuring glance.

Then, he turned his gaze to the one-eyed man.

He said nothing. The moment his gaze settled, the strand of gentle spiritual energy from the “Greenwood Longevity Art – Lin Yu Modified Version – Foundation Chapter” within him was subtly activated in an unprecedented way.

To the one-eyed man, this seemingly frail young man before him seemed to transform instantly.

A primal, instinctual fear seized him, as if he had become a noisy insect posturing before a slumbering giant tree, about to be silently crushed in the next moment.

Years of drifting through the Jianghu, surviving by the blade, honed intuition screamed alarms in his mind—Danger! Run!

The one-eyed man’s smile froze.

His throat went dry. He instinctively took a step back.

“Damn it, bad luck!”

He spat on the ground, as if to cover up his own guilty conscience, glaring fiercely at his underlings.

“What are you looking at! Let’s go!”

With that, he led a group of equally confused lackeys, slinking away into the crowd.

A conflict that seemed about to erupt dissipated into nothingness.

Old Chen and Xu Qing were both dumbfounded.

“Su… Brother Su, you…” Xu Qing opened his mouth, unsure what to say.

“Not bad, not bad, teachable indeed,” Lin Yu in Su Ming’s mind offered sincere praise. “Killing intent, that’s low-level skill. Using ‘presence’ to pressure others, that’s master-level style. Your move ‘What are you looking at? Looking at you, what of it? Stare at who, who gets pregnant’… no, ‘Death Stare,’ already has about thirty percent of your master’s skill from back in the day.”

Su Ming ignored his master’s nonsense.

He just smiled at Xu Qing.

“Just some bluffing little trick, not worth mentioning. Let’s go in.”

Past Xiangfan, they officially entered the capital region.

The official road became even broader and smoother, wide enough for four carriages abreast.

More carriages and horses appeared on the road.

Ornately decorated carriages were everywhere, family crests painted on their sides. Beside them were brightly dressed, fierce-looking guards on horseback, clearly private soldiers of powerful aristocratic families.

The air itself seemed permeated with an intangible sense of order and majesty.

Xu Qing closed his notebook, now more than half full, his expression grave as he spoke to Su Ming.

“Brother Su, observing the people’s livelihood along this journey, I see much hardship and suffering. The decay of official governance likely far exceeds that in Qingshi Town. Teacher Zhou’s words, living in the capital is not easy. These words truly do not deceive. From now on, we must be extremely cautious in speech and action.”

Su Ming nodded.

“I understand.”

Before nightfall, they stopped at the last relay station outside the capital.

This was the final night of their journey.

Su Ming did not rest immediately.

He sat cross-legged in his room, entering meditation again.

He felt that the closer they got to the capital, the thinner and harder to grasp the ambient spiritual energy in the world became.

It seemed to be forcibly drawn, converging toward one direction by an invisible giant hand.

That direction was the heart of the capital.

“Master, this capital’s spiritual energy…”

“Feel it?” Lin Yu’s voice also turned serious. “This force is vast, overbearing, brooking no resistance. It’s extracting, suppressing all spiritual opportunities within hundreds of li. This should be the legendary ‘Dragon Qi.'”

“Dragon Qi?”

“Mhm, formed from a dynasty’s fortune and destiny. It’s both the guardian of imperial authority and the shackles of cultivators.” Lin Yu mused. “In such a place, ordinary breathing techniques’ effectiveness will be greatly reduced. Cultivation becomes doubly difficult. However…”

He chuckled.

“There are exceptions to everything. This Dragon Qi, poison to others, might not be entirely bad for our ‘Greenwood Longevity Art.'”

The next morning.

The carriage traveled along a gentle ridge.

When the first rays of dawn pierced the clouds, spilling onto the earth, the cart driver Old Chen’s voice held a trace of excitement.

“Gentlemen, look!”

Su Ming and Xu Qing simultaneously lifted the carriage curtain.

At the horizon’s edge, an immensely vast complex of buildings lay like a giant beast crouching on the earth.

Grey city walls stretched continuously, seeming endless.

Countless pavilions, towers, palaces, and pagodas stood in orderly, layered rows within the walls.

Under the morning sun, those towering glazed tile roofs reflected a grand and dazzling golden light, brilliant to the eyes.

That was the heart of the Daxing Dynasty.

The center of power under heaven.

The capital.

Xu Qing took a deep breath, instinctively straightening his clothes and hat, his eyes filled with longing and nervousness.

Su Ming’s gaze, however, pierced through that golden splendor, looking toward a deeper, farther place.

There lay Teacher Zhou’s lifelong regret, Professor Liu’s unfinished ideal.

Perhaps, it also hid a slim thread of hope for his pursuit of that world.

“Master, we’ve arrived.”

“Mhm, arrived.” Lin Yu’s voice, for once, held no teasing, only an inexplicable, profound emotion.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep