Family Genealogy

Zhou Ping gazed into the distance for a moment before suddenly speaking. "Xuanya."

Behind him, Zhou Xuanya was tidying up the storeroom. Being suddenly called by his father in such a manner made him feel inexplicably flustered, and he stepped forward with constrained deference.

"Father, I am here."

Zhou Ping looked at him, speaking with deep earnestness. "The Zhang family has shown us great kindness. As men of character, we naturally cannot be ungrateful. In the future, if you can afford to look after them, do your best to assist them."

"Your son understands," Zhou Xuanya replied respectfully.

"Furthermore, you and the daughter of the Zhang family need to put in more effort. Your older brothers already have several children between them, yet you-there hasn't been a single stir from your quarters."

Zhou Xuanya's face instantly flushed crimson, and he stood rooted to the spot, utterly silent.

Seeing his son in such a state, Zhou Ping smiled and refrained from further teasing. He channeled his Spiritual Qi to activate the jade token, which instantly burst forth with three beams of spiritual light, dissolving the restrictions sealed upon the scrolls.

From the moment Zhou Ping exchanged for the items, the method to unseal the scrolls had been transferred into the jade token. It was precisely because of this mechanism that the Immortals' Directorate had no fear of Zhang Ting and his peers growing greedy; if anyone else so much as touched the seals, it would be instantly detected.

Furthermore, the protective measures the Directorate provided for Zhang Ting's group were enough to withstand the siege of multiple Qi Condensation cultivators until reinforcements arrived.

As for Foundation Establishment masters, they would never deign to target such escorts.

Although the storage bag contained numerous inheritances, they were all first-rank. To a Foundation Establishment cultivator, such items were hardly worth a glance.

Moreover, there were only so many Foundation Establishment masters in a given region. If a robbery occurred, the imperial court could easily deduce the culprit. Even for demonic cultivators who lived by slaughter and arson, the royal family's tolerance of their existence was already a grand mercy; none would dare court death by plundering the imperial court's properties.

This created a balance where Qi Condensation cultivators coveted the cargo but lacked the strength to take it, while Foundation Establishment masters possessed the strength but found the reward tasteless-and laced with fatal consequences.

Occasionally, a few reckless, unaffiliated loose cultivators might be bold enough to target the Immortals' Directorate. Yet in the end, their ambitions were as high as the heavens while their fates were as thin as paper.

Most could not even overcome the escorting personnel. Even if they succeeded, the Immortals' Directorate would track them across thousands of li, eventually blasting them until not a speck of ash remained.

Zhou Ping opened the talisman-making scroll, and a torrential flood of knowledge instantly surged into his mind. It felt as though a spectral figure was repeatedly demonstrating the intricate craft of talisman creation within his Sea of Consciousness, allowing him to rapidly master the Spirit-Solidifying Secret Art contained within.

It took a long while before he finally came back to his senses.

By now, the scroll retained only two chances for this direct, mind-awakening transmission. Once those two uses were exhausted, the scroll would become nothing more than a piece of waste paper.

Granted, the knowledge could still be passed down through oral instruction, but that method was exceptionally laborious, mentally draining, and prone to deviations in comprehension.

Afterward, Zhou Ping handed the scroll to Zhou Minghu, commanding, "Minghu, Xuanya, the two of you must study this together."

"Once you have fully mastered it, establish a production workshop on Jingfeng Peak and recruit some laborers from the foot of the mountain."

"Remember to divide the entire process into specialized assembly-line processes, ensuring each worker is solely responsible for a single stage."

Zhou Minghu accepted the scroll with a solemn expression. "Your son will see to it immediately."

He naturally understood Zhou Ping's intent. He had heard of such methods being employed in mortal dye workshops, where laborers only handled their specific duties. This division of labor not only prevented the core techniques from leaking but also exponentially increased efficiency.

After all, cultivating a fully independent master craftsman required at least two to three years of training. However, if a worker was only responsible for a single process, they could become proficient within a mere matter of days.

Zhou Ping pondered for a brief moment before adding, "Keep Fusheng by your side as well. He is a cultivator now, so his presence will spare you considerable trouble. There is no need to teach him the complete Spirit-Solidifying Secret Art-passing on a portion will suffice."

Although Chen Fusheng belonged to the Chen family, his household had lived in close symbiosis with the Zhou family since he was five or six years old. Consequently, Chen Fusheng felt immense affinity toward the Zhou clan.

This devotion had gradually allowed Zhou Ping to lower his guard against his young brother-in-law. In truth, Zhou Ping planned to betroth Zhou Changhe's daughter to Chen Fusheng once she came of age, thereby firmly binding him to the Zhou family's chariot.

Though such an arrangement slightly muddled the generational hierarchy, it was of little consequence in the grand scheme of things.

Zhou Ping then inquired, "By the way, how is Fusheng's cultivation progressing?"

"A few days ago, my young uncle condensed his twelfth strand of Spiritual Qi, matching my current progress," Zhou Minghu reported, a flicker of envy passing through his eyes. Chen Fusheng possessed a spiritual root talent of two inches and two tenths, meaning his limit would likely be around thirteen or fourteen strands of Spiritual Qi-manifestly superior to both Zhou brothers.

Zhou Ping nodded. Picking up the remaining two scrolls, he remarked, "As for these two techniques, wait until I have summarized my own insights before you attempt to learn them."

These were true Qi Condensation techniques, and casting them would easily drain a dozen strands of Spiritual Qi. If the brothers attempted to practice them blindly, a single attempt would completely exhaust their reserves, making it near impossible to grasp the nuances. However, with the guidance of a predecessor's experience, they could meticulously feel the shifts in Spiritual Qi, which would make the process far simpler.

He then directed, "Xuanya, descend the mountain and summon your cousin Changhe. I have matters to discuss with him."

"Furthermore, in a few days, you and Wang Dashi must tour the lands at the foot of the mountain. Test all the children of appropriate age across the various villages to see if any possess the spiritual root talent."

"I will go right away," Zhou Xuanya complied. He and Zhou Minghu then made their way down the mountain.

Over the past three years, the Zhou family had tested the mortals under their rule, yet not a single child had met the threshold for cultivation-a stark contrast to the bounty found in the original Baixi Village.

Zhou Ping had analyzed the underlying cause. Baixi Village had been comprised of disaster refugees drawn from all corners of the land; it was highly probable that some carried the latent bloodlines of fallen cultivator clans, resulting in a mixed pool of genes that yielded several seedlings of immortal destiny.

Conversely, the native villages had remained isolated in this region for centuries, leaving far too few variables in their bloodlines.

Now that a new generation of newborns was arriving, he deeply hoped that one or two talented individuals would emerge to help manage Baixi Mountain. Moreover, integrating a few foreign-surnamed cultivators would serve to obscure the anomalies within their own family.

Before long, Zhou Ping and Zhou Changhe sat opposite one another in the courtyard.

"Uncle, did you summon me because an issue has arisen?" Zhou Changhe inquired.

Zhou Ping looked at the young man before him. Zhou Changhe's frame had grown gaunt, and his eye sockets were slightly sunken-a sight that brought a pang of sorrow to Zhou Ping's heart.

Due to the ongoing construction of Zhou Family Town and the heavy burden of maintaining order across the four villages, Zhou Changhe had been utterly overwhelmed these past few years. Although the town lay a mere one or two li from Baixi Mountain, he rarely found the leisure to ascend the peak, choosing instead to reside in the mortal manor and only returning to the mountain once every month or two.

"I see how exhausted you are. Let Minghu take over your duties for a period so you can properly rest and recuperate."

Zhou Changhe replied anxiously, "I am grateful for your care, Uncle, but I cannot rest just yet. The mortal affairs are far too vast; I fear Minghu cannot manage them entirely on his own."

"Changhe, I know how deeply you cherish this family, but you cannot allowed it to ruin your body," Zhou Ping said sternly. "Look at yourself. The last few times you came up the mountain, your own children shrank away from you, unfamiliar with your face. I trust Minghu can handle the administrative duties. For the time being, remain on the mountain to nurture your health and spend time with your children."

Zhou Changhe opened his mouth to argue, but at the mention of his children, the memory of them stepping backward in fear flashed through his mind, leaving him despondent and silent.

"Aside from your recuperation, there is another matter."

Zhou Changhe looked up, puzzled. "What matter does Uncle speak of?"

Zhou Ping spoke unhurriedly. "The number of children in our household is growing. I intend to formally compile our clan genealogy. Though young Zhou Zhuo was born to a maidservant, he nonetheless carries the blood of our Zhou family. He must be granted his rightful place in the lineage."

Zhou Changhe remained quiet for a brief moment before nodding. "Uncle is correct; it is indeed time to establish the genealogy. However, your nephew believes it might be best to entrust this task to Chang'an."

Zhou Ping paused, slightly taken aback, before a soft smile graced his face. "Chang'an is a scholar and a man of letters. Having him compile the genealogy is indeed the perfect choice."

Yet deep within his heart, a sudden wave of guilt washed over him. In the past, he had truly neglected Chang'an and his siblings. Had he paid closer attention to the children back then, perhaps the tragedy that befell Changxi could have been averted.

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