Volume 2, Chapter 63 – The Scramble

Close to eight-thirty, Bai Xiang was dragged out of bed by Xiang Xian, who had barged into her room.

Xiang Xian was surprised, because from what she’d observed while staying over at the Bai family’s place, Bai Xiang’s schedule was just about the most disciplined in the entire dojo—she had never once seen her sleep in.

“I was studying Master’s book last night.” After washing up, Bai Xiang casually tossed out an excuse.

“Really?” Xiang Xian clearly didn’t believe her, because she kept feeling that Bai Xiang’s energy and spirit today were different from yesterday’s, though she couldn’t say exactly how.

She asked Bai Xiang a few questions, and Bai answered every one of them fluently. Xiang Xian had no choice but to accept her explanation.

Warning her that real study couldn’t be crammed into one night and that she shouldn’t force herself like this in the future, Xiang Xian went out, leaving the room to Bai Xiang so she could get dressed.

Her clothes were still the same set as before. Bai Xiang pulled on her tights, cinched her waist sash, slid her black-stockinged feet into her Black Python boots, then picked up her phone and Feixiang Heaven and counted herself ready.

According to Xiang Xian, they were to first visit Qizhou University’s Sword Institute and seek out Benling Sword Dao’s Dao Lord, Wang Ran, there.

“The Sword Dao’s dojos and the universities they’re stationed in usually aren’t in the same place.”

On the way, she still didn’t forget to explain these Dao-world basics to Bai Xiang.

“Take my Yuming Sword Dao, for example. Our dojo is on Baishan, east of Yujing, but Yujing University, which we work with, is up north. If you walked the straight-line distance, it’d still take an hour.”

“But Qizhou University and Qingze University are exceptions, for historical reasons. Their origins and how they rose to power decided that their dojos had to be joined to their schools. Only that way made sense, and only that way made it convenient to respond to the wars back then.”

This was easy enough to understand. In Yujing’s circuit there were rarely wars or chaos, and even if something did happen occasionally, Yuming Sword Dao still had enough time to rush to Yujing University’s aid, so the two sides being in different places wasn’t a problem.

But those other schools in remote regions, which had been bound to the Nine Dao academies early on in antiquity—their role back then was far more than just that of a school. They were also a small town, a fortress. In peacetime they had to worry not only about recruiting students and holding lectures, but also about bandit bands and marauders invading, and in extreme cases, about facing open warfare head-on.

In situations like that, having the dojo and the school separated just wasn’t suitable. The best thing was obviously to move them together, both sides tucked behind the same walls, so they could stand shoulder to shoulder when danger came.

Bai Xiang had heard this sort of thing before, but with Xiang Xian’s explanation today, her understanding grew deeper.

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She nodded and asked Xiang Xian, “Then how did the idea of the ‘Nine Daos’ come about?”

She’d always been very curious about how that division was defined.

Had there been Nine Daos from the very beginning?

Did there have to be exactly nine of them?

These were questions no books recorded or answered. No one brought them up in daily life either, so Bai Xiang could only ask Xiang Xian.

“Of course it wasn’t nine from the start.” Xiang Xian smiled.

“When we talk about the ranking of the Nine Daos, roughly speaking, ‘Huang, Jing, and Dai’ come first, ‘West, Liang, and Xu’ are in the middle, and ‘Ze, Qi, and Lue’ bring up the rear.”

“Those abbreviations refer to the prefectures they administer. Among them, Qingping Dao of Huang Prefecture, Yuming Dao of Jing Prefecture, and Suzhen Dao of Dai Prefecture were the first three Dao lineages to be established, and they’re universally acknowledged as the earliest Dao traditions.”

“As for how it gradually expanded to nine, that naturally followed the continual expansion of Great Yu’s territory.”

“Wherever there is new royal land, there must be a new vassal to sit in town and hold it.”

Bai Xiang mulled over the reasoning, then asked Xiang Xian, “So that means the upper limit on powers at the Nine-Dao level corresponds to how many prefectures Great Yu possesses.”

Xiang Xian nodded. “Yes.”

Bai Xiang went on. “If Great Yu keeps its Nine-Provinces map, then no matter what new talents arise later, they still can’t shake the Nine Daos’ status and become a Tenth Dao.”

Xiang Xian nodded again. “That’s right.”

No wonder these people took opening new frontiers so seriously.

Bai Xiang nodded as well, having gained some understanding.

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For traditional Sword Dao, opening new lands wasn’t just about making military achievements. It also meant making the cake bigger, carving out a tenth prefecture so they could fight over the spoils.

“You don’t need to worry too much about that side of things,” Xiang Xian said, glancing at Bai Xiang.

“Land reclamation is a global problem. Mechanized reclamation is naturally efficient—you can sweep away whole swaths of accumulated demon beasts—but machines are completely helpless against the Demon Pools’ eerie powers. For that, you have to turn to the transcendent.”

“That means that even in the worst case, even if the Luohou win, the initiative can’t possibly fall entirely into their hands. They’ll still have to ask us to handle things.”

I don’t see it that way.

At those words, Bai Xiang narrowed her eyes, recalling the Tiger-Subduing Arhat Scripture she’d swindled out of Cerredo.

The tiger-demon man and that sleazy guy with the ritual staff already showed that Fuhu Temple was cooperating with the Sami Union, and Fuhu Temple itself proved that there was no lack of Sword Dao strength outside Great Yu’s borders.

If the Luohou manage to win the support of those wandering Sword Dao sects, then they’re not necessarily forced to come begging to Great Yu over the Demon Pool problem.

On that point, Bai Xiang could actually understand them quite well.

It was because, thanks to Sword Dao, the Yu people enjoyed an extremely high status all over the world.

Take Nanmu Corporation, the company that had been smashed earlier, for example.

Even here in the Qizhou region, where competition wasn’t all that cutthroat, a company like that still struggled enough that it started thinking about opening up overseas markets.

And if they really did go abroad, they really could do quite well. At root, that was because Sword Dao naturally restrained the Demon Pools’ bizarre power, whereas the other nations—whether Luohou or the Sami Union—were themselves sorely lacking in corresponding transcendent methods.

The Jobs Directorate of Great Yu had even set up a Foreign Territories Division—the so-called ‘Four Barbarians Department’—specifically to take on those cross-border commissions. There had always been plenty of demand in that area.

With a background like that—

The Yu people, especially swordsmen, naturally received extremely high treatment abroad.

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It was only because development overseas had been so explosive in recent years that the lower-level Yu people gradually lost their noble halo and, in turn, ended up being looked down on by the likes of Cerredo.

Was Master also trapped in that kind of traditional thinking, so he just hadn’t thought of it yet?

Frowning at Xiang Xian’s back, Bai Xiang couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t that simple.

…

Qizhou University’s Sword Institute sat at the foot of the earthen hill on campus.

Xiang Xian first led Bai Xiang up the long flight of steps. Once they reached the archway gate, she formally handed a visiting card to the gatekeeping disciple. Only then were the two of them led by a pair of disciples, passing through the dappled shadows of small buildings and greenery until they came to an ancient-looking pagoda.

The pagoda had been built against the slope, seven stories tall, small and narrow in form. At its base stood a monk, a woman, and a young girl; it looked as if the first were showing the latter two around.

“Master.” The disciple who’d brought them stepped forward and bowed respectfully.

The monk had of course seen Bai Xiang and Xiang Xian. He waved his disciple back and quickly walked over to salute Xiang Xian.

“Dao Lord Xiang.”

“Dao Lord Wang.”

The two of them straightened and returned each other’s courtesy, while Bai Xiang took the chance to observe the monk.

He wasn’t bald.

That was her first thought.

The monk had hair, as thick and long as his beard, tied back and pinned with a hair stick. And he wasn’t wearing a traditional monk’s robe either; its cut was closer to a dark, black Daoist robe.

If she hadn’t known he was Benling’s Dao Lord, Wang Ran, and if not for Benling Sword Dao’s background and the pagoda behind him, Bai Xiang wouldn’t have called him a “monk” at all.

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He didn’t look the part in the slightest.

While she was sizing others up, the woman and the girl had come over as well. The woman in particular was openly sizing her up in turn.

“You’re Bai Xiang of Shenming?”

“The Bai Xiang who condensed the Aspect at seventeen, slew Aberrations, and cut down treacherous villains?”

The woman came out with it directly.

Hm?

Bai Xiang turned her head and met her gaze, discovering that the woman’s eyes were as sharp as swords, like two streaks of sword-light stabbing straight toward her.

“That’s me.”

She nodded, wanting to see what this woman was playing at.

“Good.”

Seeing that she could meet her gaze so calmly, the woman couldn’t help splitting her lips in a shout of praise.

“I’m Li Sheng, Dao Lord of Shangqing.”

“Let me ask you something.”

“Are you willing to learn the sword from me?”