Chapter 16: Guest Scholar Zhou Wuqing

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At the end of December in the year 564 AD, a strange anomaly occurred along the spiritual veins of the Yellow River, causing the riverbanks to break and disaster to strike the Dongtian realm. Disciples were dispatched to quell the floodwaters. Seizing the opportunity, the Peach Blossom Source sent its cultivator subordinates to invade. Guest official Zhou Wuqing took command in this critical moment, confronting the enemy by the Wei River. With a lone sword, he slew over a hundred foes, their bodies falling into the river and floating downstream for more than a hundred miles.

In the spring of 565 AD, Peach Blossom Source launched a sudden assault with northern barbarian cultivators, breaking through the northern defenses and striking directly at the Taibai Mountain Dongtian. The three senior elders of the sect led five hundred elite disciples to engage the enemy, battling for over a day. Zhou Wuqing, alone, infiltrated the enemy ranks, beheaded the yuanming-level enemy commander, causing the opposition to collapse and be entirely wiped out by our sect.

In the summer of 566 AD, our sect’s eastern campaign succeeded, and the Northern Zhou army occupied Hengzhou. Three sects were trapped there; upon hearing the name of the newcomer, all three knelt in submission and joined our sect.

Several pairs of eyes were fixed intently on the pages of the historical records. The officers in the confidential chamber were all deeply engrossed, never having imagined that reading mission data could be so absorbing.

Since the Northern Wei’s split in 557 AD, the historical annals recorded little else but countless wars and the constant shifts they caused. From an overall perspective, the northern and southern forces remained deadlocked, with victories evenly matched. Yet whenever Zhou Wuqing’s name appeared, the records invariably depicted him cutting through the enemy ranks single-handedly.

This was the nature of cultivator warfare. Unlike the mortal world’s emphasis on numbers and tactics, the vast disparity of individual strength among cultivators meant that the appearance of a single powerful figure often determined the course of battle. In the face of absolute power, all strategy was mere talk.

The confidential chamber remained unusually silent, broken only by the soft rustling of pages and subdued exclamations. Initially, opinions about Zhou Wuqing varied, but the deeper they read, all assessments converged into one word: strong. Unreasonably strong.

Even through the cold, detached text, they felt the immense pressure radiating from this guest official. It was unimaginable what the cultivators who had faced him personally a thousand years ago must have felt—like a cavalry squad confronting a walking humanoid artillery.

The room’s quiet was punctuated only by low murmurs of admiration. Every person present was a veteran officer from the Sanitation Bureau, each having encountered more than one ancient cultivator. This made them even more appreciative of the value hidden within the records.

In every victory noted, Zhou Wuqing fought alone, often taking on hundreds or even thousands by himself, rarely relying on sect support. This was why he left so many prominent records in historical materials.

From a broader viewpoint, this was not entirely good news for the Jiuli faction. Fighting alone meant he was beyond sect control and unable to coordinate with others to form the group formations commonly used in cultivator warfare, making him a huge wild card on the battlefield.

But his astonishing record rendered these drawbacks negligible.

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If initially they questioned why Jiuli Sect would lower itself to recruit such a figure, by now their doubts had shifted to how Jiuli managed to contain such a formidable tiger.

At the end of July, the sect received urgent news: the enemy had ambushed with two thousand elite troops, and the guest official was in danger. The sect master summoned the elite disciples to mount a rescue. They searched beneath Mount Xiao, only to find the enemy leader’s head strewn across the ground, with remnants fleeing into the mountains. Zhou Wuqing set fire to the hills; when the flames died, the corpses piled into mounds, leaving a hundred-mile stretch devastated.

With the battle decided, Elder Lingchuan petitioned the sect master, claiming that Zhou Wuqing acted recklessly and ruthlessly, and that allowing him to continue unchecked would damage Jiuli’s reputation. He urged the sect master to take action.

In August, the council of nine elders was reduced to eight elders.

Lu Zhenhai’s eyelid twitched slightly; even without looking, he knew others shared his expression. The last shred of doubt vanished. The thinking of these ancient overlords who had ruled Central Plains for millennia was beyond ordinary scrutiny. Jiuli Sect’s endurance to the present day owed far more than mere martial strength.

In December, seven Golden Core cultivators arrived with several hundred disciples, claiming to be remnants of the Hundred Flowers Sect, which had been destroyed by the Peach Blossom Source’s heretical faction. Forced to wander, they now sought to join our sect, and the sect master consented.

At the beginning of 569 AD, dozens of independent cultivators visited the Dongtian, requesting a glimpse of guest official Zhou Wuqing’s true form. The sect master politely declined; the independents voiced no complaint, only requesting entry as outer disciples. After deliberation, the Elder Hall approved.

In June, the sect master opened the sect’s treasury and issued a decree: anyone who slew a Peach Blossom Source disciple and presented the head at the sect would be rewarded. Those with many kills could enter the sect as regular disciples.

These accounts might seem plain at first glance. But when combined with mundane historical records, a pattern emerges: Northern Zhou was rising swiftly, while the Northern Qi to the east suffered from decadent rulers, social chaos, and a decline in national strength.

The fortunes of mortal dynasties reflected the hidden powers behind them. Although the fate of Peach Blossom Source remained unclear, the records showed that from Zhou Wuqing’s joining Jiuli onward, defections to Jiuli were unceasing, swelling the sect’s numbers to over ten thousand within a few years. Across the Central Plains, a shift was underway: the west rising as the east fell, the north ascending as the south declined.

At this moment, only twenty years remained before the Central Plains would reunify.

…

Meanwhile, in a corner of Liangzhou Park.

The sun hung slightly westward, casting a refreshing afternoon light. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, scattering flecks of dappled sunlight among the shadows.

Amid the swaying tree shadows, Qin Jiajia and Zhou Qing sat side by side on a stone bench by the path. Qin Jiajia spoke in a steady, modulated voice; Zhou Qing listened attentively, nodding occasionally. To a casual observer, they might have seemed like a pair of chatting young students.

“…and then, just this morning, they called me, telling me to wait at the park entrance for you as planned. That’s all there is.”

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After finishing her last sentence, Qin Jiajia licked her slightly dry lips, grabbed the nearby milk tea that had settled, shook it well, and took several large sips.

After the past few dozen minutes of conversation, she no longer felt as nervous as when she first arrived. Despite the dangerous topics discussed, Zhou Qing’s usual casual tone gave her a sense of familiarity long missed.

Familiarity bred trust, and trust allowed her to relax, seeing not a perilous cultivator before her but the old classmate she once knew.

Her only remaining concern was Zhou Qing’s opinion of the Sanitation Bureau’s operations. As she sipped her milk tea, she covertly observed his expression, awaiting his judgment.

“That reminds me of an old story,” Zhou Qing said slowly, sipping his lemon water. “There was a time when a group kept trying to recruit me. After I refused multiple times, they didn’t give up and finally sent a young girl, just like this… Even after so many years, their tactics remain unchanged.”

“Recruit you?” Qin Jiajia blinked. “For what?”

“Simple. They offered payment for me to deal with a few enemies. Back then, this kind of thing was common.”

That had been fifteen hundred years ago.

“I see,” Qin Jiajia said, choosing not to press further. She had accepted the notion that Zhou Qing was an ancient, enigmatic being who couldn’t possibly remember every detail of so many years. Since he said it was simple, it must be.

Still, if he spoke so casually, at least it meant he wouldn’t come into direct conflict with the Sanitation Bureau…

Just as she pondered this, Zhou Qing suddenly asked, “So, do you still want to stay with the Sanitation Bureau?”