PID Chapter 30.1

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(5/5)!!!

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As Lin’an Academy prepared to open its forum for lectures, the city of Lin’an bustled with activity. The streets were packed with people and carriages, as if a grand event or festival was about to take place. The atmosphere was lively and festive.

 

In the Lower Realm, the main structure consisted of thirty-six major cities, while in the Middle Realm, there were twenty-four provinces, each with countless towns and cities under its jurisdiction. Lin’an Academy was located in Guangdu Province, and since it was a nearby city, it had even renamed itself after the academy to borrow some of its prestige.

 

Since Lin’an City was already within the territory managed by the academy, the academy didn’t mind them borrowing their name.

 

The Middle Realm had far fewer mortals compared to the Lower Realm. While many people in the Middle Realm could only reach the Qi Refining stage in their lifetimes, at least they had touched the threshold of cultivation. Qi Refining cultivators could extend their lifespans significantly, often living up to around 180 years—much longer than ordinary mortals.

 

Against this backdrop, the Middle and Upper Realms had developed similar power structures. Strong sects protected smaller sects and towns or villages populated by low-level cultivators. This territorial division marked their spheres of influence, with spiritual veins, forests, and unique mountains within their territories being claimed as resources for their sects. These resources were managed by people sent from the sects.

 

This system not only provided cultivation resources for their members but also spread the sect’s reputation and influence, allowing them to grow stronger over time.

 

As they approached Lin’an City, the variety of flying swords and flying boats in the sky became more diverse. There were even flying demonic beasts soaring through the clouds, giving off a true immortal-like aura of riding on clouds and mist.

 

The three children, who had initially been wide-eyed with awe and constantly exclaiming “Wow!” at everything they saw, gradually became calmer and more accustomed to it. By now, they were completely unfazed.

 

This change was likely related to watching Mo Zhi—who not long ago had been a ragged little beggar—now able to summon small flames at his fingertips.

 

For them, cultivation had transformed from a distant legend into a tangible reality.

 

Lin’an City was surrounded by protective wards. Unless someone belonged to a major sect that had pre-registered its disciples or vehicles with the city, everyone else—whether flying on swords or riding flying boats—had to dismount and enter through the city gates.

 

Major sects’ registration marks were displayed on disciple plaques or on sect flying boats and carriages—completely different from Crossing Adversity Sect’s cheap wooden plaques.

 

Many people were lined up at the city gates. Xiao Mo and Chu Jinglan’s modest little carriage stood out once again.

 

It stood out for being so shabby.

 

Ahead of them in line was a merchant caravan with carts pulled by black-maned treasure steeds infused with demonic beast blood. The horses were lean, powerful, jet-black, and majestic. The caravan consisted of six carriages in a row, made of gold-lacquered fragrant wood with silk curtains. Even the wheels exuded an air of wealth.

 

Behind them was a group of disciples from a mid-sized sect. They had landed after flying on swords and wore matching uniforms that gave them an air of authority.

 

No matter someone’s height or build, as long as there were enough people dressed uniformly, their presence naturally felt more imposing.

 

Sandwiched between these two groups, Xiao Mo and Chu Jinglan’s dull gray carriage looked even more pitiful by comparison.

 

The line was long and moved slowly. The disciples behind Xiao Mo’s group bore plaques engraved with “Xiao Qing Sect.” Leading them was a Golden Core cultivator who appeared young but whose bone age was over a hundred years. As they followed the line forward at a snail’s pace, some of the disciples began to grow restless.

 

Most merely muttered complaints—a normal reaction—but one arrogant-looking young man stepped forward to address the Golden Core cultivator leading them: “Shishu[mfn]Martial Uncle[/mfn], how long is this going to take?”

 

The Golden Core cultivator’s perception was naturally sharper than his junior’s. He replied calmly: “Not long—I estimate about two ke[mfn]roughly half an hour[/mfn].”

 

The youth pouted in dissatisfaction: “Didn’t they say we have good relations with Lin’an Academy? Why aren’t our disciple marks registered with Lin’an City so we can enter directly?”

 

The Golden Core Martial Uncle knew that Zi Jiao had been spoiled since childhood. Everyone in the sect catered to him, so he thought the world should revolve around him even outside the sect. The Martial Uncle glanced at him indifferently: “Zi Jiao, Xiao Qing Sect doesn’t have the strength to act arrogantly in the Middle Realm. When you’re outside, you need to rein in your temper.”

 

Zi Jiao scoffed: “Martial Uncle, why must you belittle us and boost others’ morale?”

 

The Golden Core Martial Uncle frowned. If this brat weren’t his senior brother’s only son, he wouldn’t have wanted to bring him along at all—his bad habits were far too ingrained.

 

Look at the other disciples—they were also waiting in line. Even if some showed slight impatience, none were as unable to keep their composure as Zi Jiao.

 

The line moved forward again, and Zi Jiao grew increasingly irritable. He began picking on other disciples, but they avoided him, unwilling to engage. This made him even more frustrated, and his annoyance extended to the shabby carriage ahead of them.

 

Where did these impoverished fools come from? How dare they stand in front of us?

 

With his Martial Uncle present, Zi Jiao couldn’t argue too much with his fellow sect disciples. But surely he could vent his anger on outsiders? That broken-down carriage couldn’t possibly belong to any prestigious sect or wealthy rogue cultivator—it had to be some penniless nobodies trying to leech off Lin’an Academy’s lectures.

 

When Lin’an Academy opened its forum to outsiders, it upheld the principle of teaching without discrimination—anyone could attend, even members of the demonic races. However, demonic cultivators were excluded. Demonic races were born that way, while demonic cultivators were those who had fallen or practiced evil methods later in life, making them despised by righteous cultivators.

 

Zi Jiao assumed that whoever was inside the carriage was just trying to use the academy’s lectures as an opportunity to gain face.

 

Not afraid of kicking a steel plate[mfn]The phrase “踢到铁板” (tī dào tiě bǎn) “to kick an iron plate,” refers to encountering an immovable obstacle or someone much stronger than oneself.[/mfn], huh?

 

Zi Jiao stepped forward, and before the Golden Core Martial Uncle could stop him, he raised his leg and kicked the carriage hard: “Hey, you broke-down paupers up front, switch places with us!”

 

The Golden Core Martial Uncle was a moment too late and angrily shouted, “You—”

 

But his voice trailed off as a bad feeling crept over him. The carriage, which should have jolted forward from the kick, remained completely stationary, not moving an inch.

 

Zi Jiao’s kick had clearly landed solidly, producing a loud “thud.”

 

If the carriage didn’t even budge, it must have hit some kind of barrier. Yet even the Golden Core cultivator hadn’t detected any spiritual energy fluctuations.

 

Zi Jiao also realized something was wrong. The Golden Core Martial Uncle yanked him back immediately, but it was too late. Centered around the carriage, a wave of pressure accompanied by a gust of air surged outward. Zi Jiao was instantly thrown off his feet. The Golden Core cultivator couldn’t hold onto him and watched as Zi Jiao rolled twice on the ground like a ball before landing flat on his back in an utterly undignified position.

 

The Golden Core Martial Uncle’s pupils contracted sharply: At least Nascent Soul level!

 

Who would have thought that such a shabby carriage housed such a powerful cultivator?

 

Along with the oppressive aura came a low, calm voice that was succinct and to the point: “Leave.”

 

Zi Jiao scrambled to his feet in disbelief and hurriedly ran to his Martial Uncle’s side, about to say something. But before he could speak, the Golden Core Martial Uncle pressed down on his head and raised his voice: “Senior, please calm your anger. This junior is ignorant and ill-mannered. I will discipline him immediately and ensure you have peace.”

 

No further sound came from the carriage, so the Golden Core cultivator assumed that the powerful figure inside had decided not to pursue the matter. Without hesitation, he dragged Zi Jiao back and ordered the disciples of Xiao Qing Sect to retreat several positions in line, yielding five spots before stopping.

 

Zi Jiao had felt the pressure earlier; his legs were still weak. But more than fear, he was filled with disbelief. Having grown up in the sect without ever venturing out for training, he had never encountered anyone who dared to suppress him with sheer pressure—other than his father!

 

Zi Jiao protested: “Martial Uncle, he—”

 

“I told you to restrain yourself!”

 

The Golden Core cultivator truly wanted to slap him across the face. “Your parents never let you go out for training and thought this trip to Lin’an Academy would be safe enough for you. Outside is a world where people will eat you alive without leaving bones! If you keep acting arrogant and domineering like at home, you’ll lose your life!”

 

Zi Jiao opened his mouth but couldn’t argue back. He could feel countless eyes on him from all directions. Laughter rippled through the crowd—clearly, the commotion had drawn everyone’s attention.

 

People waiting in line were bored anyway; watching this scene unfold provided some entertainment as they mocked Zi Jiao for not knowing his place.

 

Hearing these voices made Zi Jiao’s face flush red and then pale with embarrassment. But knowing he couldn’t beat whoever was inside that carriage and unable to argue further with his Martial Uncle in public, he could only seethe inwardly. He made a mental note to complain about this later.

 

If his father had been leading this trip instead of his useless Martial Uncle, he wouldn’t have been humiliated like this! His father was at Nascent Soul level; this Martial Uncle was only at Golden Core! Hmph! Just wait until he got back and told his father about this—he’d make sure both that arrogant cultivator in the carriage and this incompetent Martial Uncle were taught a lesson.

 

Zi Jiao clenched his fists tightly in frustration.

 

Meanwhile, inside the carriage that Zi Jiao had kicked earlier, someone else was trembling with anger.

 

Mo Zhi shouted furiously: “What kind of person is that?! I’ll kick his grandmother’s leg!”

 

After venting his anger, he realized he’d cursed again. He quickly covered his mouth and darted nervous glances at everyone else inside the carriage. A moment later, he lowered his hand and scratched his head sheepishly: “I didn’t mean to curse—it’s just that I’m too angry.”

 

Chu Xia’s small face wrinkled with displeasure as well. Yan Chun clenched his fists but didn’t bother correcting Mo Zhi’s language for once.

 

Xiao Mo found it amusing. The three children were so angry yet none of them suggested rushing out to fight or even lifting the curtain to look outside.

 

Xiao Mo tentatively asked, “You don’t want to teach him a harsh lesson?”

 

Mo Zhi clenched his fists: “I heard their voices earlier—there are a lot of them. I definitely can’t beat them. I’ve known since I was little that if you can’t win, you have to endure. You never know when an opportunity might come.”

 

Mo Zhi had seen beggars beaten to death before—it was a gruesome sight etched deeply into his mind. Because of this, he carried a bit of sly cunning within him. Call him foolish, but sometimes he showed surprising cleverness.

 

He hadn’t let becoming a cultivator or being able to summon a small flame inflate his ego or make him forget his limits.

 

If Mo Zhi knew he couldn’t win against a group, Yan Chun and Chu Xia were even more aware. Now that they were in the Middle Realm, where people flew around on swords everywhere, they understood they were unarmed and had no means to fight back.

 

Most importantly—

 

Yan Chun held Chu Xia’s hand tightly: “We can’t cause trouble for Master and Shixiong.”

 

Chu Xia nodded obediently.

 

So even though they could borrow authority from their masters, they chose not to.

 

Xiao Mo sighed: “Good children.”

 

No wonder they would achieve great things in the future. They had been honing their temperament and character from an early age. A person’s personality and choices truly determine their fate. Take that boy who kicked the carriage earlier—sooner or later, he’d provoke someone he shouldn’t and end up dead outside.

 

Earlier, Xiao Mo had been attached to Chu Jinglan, releasing the pressure that subdued Zi Jiao. The three children were already used to him disappearing and reappearing randomly. After the incident, the others in line now understood that the shabby carriage housed at least one Nascent Soul-level cultivator, so no one dared cause any more trouble.

 

The carriage slowly moved forward with the queue. After a while, Xiao Mo noticed the children looking sleepy, so he took out his flute: “It’s been a long wait and quite dull. How about I play you a tune to liven things up?”

 

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