Heavy Rain

Mid-November, the sky was overcast.

Outside the courtyard, Zhou Bai was playing with his nephew, Zhou Chengqian, along with several children of similar age. One was Zhou Liang, the son of Zhou Shi; another was Zhou Sisi, the daughter of Zhou Hu. The rest were the children of various retainers.

Zhou Bai laughed happily, shouting at Zhou Liang, "Zhou Liang, it's your turn to be the hawk!"

If anyone among the Zhou family's third generation was the happiest, it was undoubtedly Zhou Bai. The other five members of his generation had all suffered hardship to varying degrees. After all, the Zhou family had not yet fully established its foothold back then, and Zhou Ping had been forced to hide deep in the mountains just to keep them safe.

But ever since Zhou Bai could remember, the Zhou family was already an Immortal Clan. Even the great drought could not affect this young master's privileged life. Coupled with Zhou Ping's guilt-driven doting and the fierce affection of older brothers like Zhou Minghu, Zhou Bai spent his days in carefree bliss.

The child in the linen clothes, however, slumped onto the dirt, rolling around and throwing a tantrum.

"I don't want to! I've been the hawk so many times already. Pick someone else, pick someone else!"

Zhou Bai stepped forward and gave him a swift kick. "You lost, so you're the hawk!"

Still rolling on the ground, Zhou Liang cried out in pain from the sudden kick. Possessing a child's temper and influenced by the usual arrogance of his father, the estate steward Zhou Shi, Zhou Liang scrambled up in a flash of anger and prepared to charge at Zhou Bai. But Zhou Sisi quickly caught his sleeve, pulling him back.

Although Zhou Sisi was only five years old, she had watched her own father serve Zhou Dashan like a lowly servant. This ingrained a maturity in her far beyond her years. She understood the strict divide between the high and the low, and whispered, "What do you think you're doing?"

Only then did Zhou Liang snap back to his senses. He caught the cold gazes of the estate guards and maidservants in the distance. Instantly, a stark warning from his father flashed through his mind-a warning accompanied by ten lashes of a horsewhip to ensure he never forgot it.

"Even if Zhou Bai and Zhou Chengqian beat you, you swallow it and endure! He is the master, and you are the servant!"

Before Zhou Liang could even thank Zhou Sisi, she was called away by Zhou Bai.

Zhou Bai dragged Zhou Chengqian to the edge of a small puddle and cheered, "Sisi, let's make mud figures!"

Even during such a severe drought, as long as Zhou Bai wanted to play, the Zhou family would do everything in their power to indulge him.

In the distance, the retainers stared at the puddle, instinctively licking their dry lips. Although the Zhou family did not completely deprive their servants of water, the daily rations were still meager.

Of course, it was still vastly superior to the desperate state of the villagers down in Baixi Village.

"Alright," Zhou Sisi answered timidly, walking over with a voice like chiming bells, clear and pleasant to the ear.

Watching this scene, a bitter indignation welled up in Zhou Liang's heart.

"Why was he born a master, while I was born a servant?"

Just then, a heavy rumble of thunder echoed through the sky, drawing everyone's gaze upward.

Soon after, pattering raindrops began to fall.

"It's raining! It's finally raining!" The nearby servants were instantly overjoyed, tilting their heads back and opening their mouths to catch the sweet drops from the sky.

Zhou Bai stared at the heavens, spreading his hands to feel the chill of the rain. He murmured to himself, "Is this the rain Father summoned? So amazing."

A seed that had long been planted in his heart now quietly sprouted and took root.

The rain fell harder and harder. The servants hastily scooped up Zhou Bai and the other children, rushing them into the courtyard.

Standing under the eaves, Zhou Ping and the others watched the rain falling in continuous, unbroken threads. The massive boulder that had weighed on their chests for years finally crumbled.

"Father, now that it is finally raining, the great drought must be at an end. What are our plans for the family going forward?" Zhou Minghu asked slowly.

Zhou Ping, who had grown a short beard over the years, smiled faintly. "I trust Changhe can manage the family's development well enough. Your duty right now is to stay by Lady Wang's side. Her belly is growing large, so you must be extra careful."

A few months ago, Zhou Ping had discovered through the System Panel that Lady Wang was pregnant, and the unborn child possessed an innate Spiritual Light of one cun and six fen.

This would be the Zhou family's first true child of immortal destiny.

Furthermore, after six years of accumulation, his Ding Fire had reached 22 points. Zhou Ping expended it to enhance his unborn grandchild's aptitude, elevating their Spiritual Light to two cun and six fen.

What the family lacked was not ordinary Spirit Awakening Realm cultivators, but a second Qi Condensation expert. Once another Qi Condensation cultivator emerged, one could guard Baixi Mountain while the other transported the tribute spirit rice to Zhaoping Commandery. They would no longer need to surrender that extra four hundred jin of spirit rice as an escort fee.

Four hundred jin of spirit rice-if kept, it could nourish the family's physical constitutions or serve as lavish rewards to bind retainers to their side. Either option was far better than handing it over to the Immortals' Directorate.

"I understand, Father," Zhou Minghu said, bowing slightly.

Beside them, Zhou Xuanya had grown into a handsome young man. Carrying a long spear on his back, he remained silent and reserved.

Suddenly, Zhou Ping felt his jade token tremble. He retrieved it and probed it with his Divine Sense, his expression instantly shifting between joy and worry.

This jade token was a sub-artifact of a Dharma Treasure belonging to the Immortals' Directorate. It served as a communication device, but it could only connect with the main artifact held by the Directorate itself.

The message had just arrived.

"Nanyang Prefecture has suffered a great calamity. All lies in ruin, and the people languish in suffering. All Immortal Clans, as lords of the land, shall naturally educate and shepherd the masses, extending their governance to save the myriad lives from the fire and water of disaster. You are hereby ordered to act as regional wardens."

The underlying meaning was clear: during this great disaster, any Immortal Clan that could manage and shelter the fleeing refugees would be granted ownership of the land they secured.

How could Zhou Ping not be thrilled? If the Zhou family could pacify the disaster in several neighboring villages, then by the time order was fully restored across Nanyang Prefecture, they would officially rule over ten li of territory, collecting tribute from all sides.

Strictly speaking, the Zhou family's only true domain was Baixi Mountain. Even Baixi Village at its foot did not legally belong to them. It was simply isolated by the mountains, allowing Zhou Ping to quietly absorb it into his sphere of influence away from prying eyes.

But now, the Immortals' Directorate was handing out a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for territorial expansion. Zhou Ping had no intention of letting it slip by.

Yet, alongside the joy came a heavy burden of worry.

"After a great disaster, a great plague shall follow. Demons, ghosts, and foul entities will run rampant. All Immortal Clans must stand as the vanguard, protecting the peace of their domains."

In any era, devastating famines birthed terrible plagues. But in this cultivation world, the aftermath was far more horrifying.

The unjust deaths of countless mortals generated vast oceans of resentment and baleful energy, eventually coalescing into lingering ghosts and foul entities. Scavenging beasts and desperate humans who feasted on the dead would mutate into monstrous demons and twisted humanoid fiends.

Every great disaster invariably spawned these horrors. They varied wildly in strength, their natures bizarre and unpredictable.

It was no wonder the Immortals' Directorate was so generous with granting land-they simply wanted the Immortal Clans to slaughter these bizarre and evil entities for them.

Mortal armies, no matter how disciplined or brave, were made of flesh and blood; they could do little against ethereal ghosts and mutating curses. Cultivators, however, were different. Even the weakest Spirit Awakening Realm cultivator possessed Spiritual Qi, granting them effective methods to purge the unnatural.

Zhou Ping sighed softly. Suppressing demons and evil spirits was fraught with peril. A single mistake could spell the doom of his entire bloodline. It would be strange if he weren't worried.

However, grave danger often walked hand in hand with Fated Chances. The tainted artifacts left behind by ghosts or the harvested remains of demonic beasts were excellent cultivation materials. They could also be exchanged for Spirit Stones and merit at the Immortals' Directorate.

Moreover, Zhou Ping could not abandon this chance to expand his borders. The family would need to take in many mortals in the future, and securing more land would ensure his descendants had the foundation to thrive and prosper.

While mortal goods were cheap, gathering them in massive quantities allowed them to be traded for genuine cultivation resources.

Just as he had once traded Spirit Stones for mundane gold, the process could be reversed-the exchange rate was simply steeper.

He gazed out toward the distant, rain-swept horizon and spoke in a low, resolute voice. "It is our family's turn to slay demons, claim our lands, and truly establish our clan."

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