Chapter 70: The Wang Family
The Wang Clan, the undisputed merchant kings of the City and arguably the wealthiest faction within a thousand-mile radius, spared absolutely no expense in showcasing their prosperity. Their estate was not merely a fortress like the Xu Clan’s; it was a sprawling paradise of pavilions, cascading waterfalls, and manicured gardens overflowing with a smoothing aura.
Today was the day of the Annual Lecture, a monumental gathering where the younger clan members were summoned to receive the wisdom of their patriarch.
From every corner of the estate, hundreds of clan members were taking to the skies, all heading toward a single, elevated gathering ground known as the Peak of Golden Wisdom. The sheer variety of flying instruments on display was a staggering testament to the clan’s wealth.
Dozens rode upon flying swords that left brilliantly colored contrails of qi cutting through the clouds. Wealthy alchemists of the clan traveled within massive, hovering cauldrons that belched aromatic smoke, masking the scent of the morning dew. Others, too arrogant to travel exposed to the wind, reclined in extravagant flying carts drawn by tamed spirit beasts.
They all converged upon the Peak of Golden Wisdom, descending onto the circular amphitheater paved entirely with spirit stones.
At the absolute center of this grand stage, seated cross-legged upon a cushion woven, was the Patriarch of the Wang Clan, Wang Tianze.
Wang Tianze was a man whose appearance perfectly mirrored his clan’s status. He was a middle-stage Core Formation expert, dressed in heavily embroidered robes that shimmered.
However, despite his supreme authority within the clan, Wang Tianze was not the most powerful individual on the stage today.
Seated on a grand, elevated throne just to the right of the Patriarch was an honored guest whose mere presence elevated the prestige of this annual lecture to unprecedented heights. It was Envoy Zhao Wuhen.
Envoy Zhao Wuhen was a man of terrifying authority. He was a direct representative of the Cultivation Council. Throughout the entirety of the Nine Provinces, the Cultivation Council stood as the ultimate, unquestionable authority. They were the ones that dictated the laws of immortals, mediated sect wars, and collected tributes. In the Central Continent, where the Zhao Province was located, the Council’s grip was as absolute as anywhere else.
Zhao Wuhen, dispatched from the branch within the Zhao Province, was a Middle Stage Nascent Soul expert. He was clad in black robes that seemed to passively devour the surrounding light. He had been invited by Wang Tianze to observe the lecture—a political maneuver that cost the Wang Clan millions of spirit stones in "tribute," all to publicly demonstrate that the clan had the backing of the Council. Zhao Wuhen sat with his eyes half-closed, an expression of profound boredom on his face as he waited for the trivial lecture to begin.
As the final flying cart descended and the thousands of disciples took their respective seats in the amphitheater, a respectful silence fell over the area.
Wang Tianze slowly opened his eyes. He swept his gaze over the sea of eager, young faces, his chest swelling with the pride. He cleared his throat, channeling a sliver of his qi so that his voice resonated clearly across the entire mountain.
"My children. Disciples of the Wang Clan," Wang Tianze began, his voice smooth, charismatic, and commanding. "Today, we gather once again to gaze upward. The path of cultivation is a treacherous mountain, and many of you are but taking your first steps upon its rocky slopes. I hold this lecture annually not to teach you sword arts or pill refinement, but to forge the absolute bedrock of your hearts."
The disciples leaned forward, their eyes wide with reverence. Even Envoy Zhao Wuhen cracked open one eye, mildly curious as to what this patriarch deemed the bedrock of cultivation.
"Today, we shall discuss the essence of talent," Wang Tianze announced, raising a single finger into the air. "Many scholars and idealistic fools will tell you that hard work, perseverance, and a pure heart are enough to reach the heavens. They will tell you that the cultivation is a mother who loves all her children equally."
Wang Tianze let out a sharp chuckle that echoed across the quiet area.
"Do not listen to them. They are lying to you," the Patriarch declared, his tone hardening into cold truth. "I am here to tell you that the path of cultivation is the absolute embodiment of partiality! The Heavens are not fair. The Heavens play favorites."
He stood up, pacing slowly across the stage, making sure every disciple heard his words.
"Look around you," Wang Tianze commanded, gesturing to the crowd. "Some of you were born with supreme Spiritual Roots, able to absorb ambient qi as easily as breathing. Others among you possess frail roots, forced to swallow bitter pills and suffer agonizing internal burns just to reach the foundational stages of Qi Condensation. Is that fairness? Is that equality?"
Wang Tianze shook his head, his robes catching the sunlight. "The Heavens give the lion sharp fangs to tear through flesh, and they give the lamb soft wool to be sheared and eaten. It is a fundamental analogy of our existence. Some cultivators are destined from the very moment of their birth to soar as dragons, while others are destined to crawl as worms in the dirt."
He paused, letting the heavy, uncomfortable reality of his words sink into the minds of the younger generation.
"But why do I tell you this?" Wang Tianze asked, his voice rising. "Do I tell you this so you may despair? No! I tell you this so you understand the true essence of the Wang Clan! When the Heavens are partial, when they deny you the talent of a dragon, you do not sit in the mud and weep! You use resources, and you use cunning to bridge the gap! If the Heavens do not give you wings, you forge them!"
The disciples erupted into a roaring cheer. The lecture perfectly encapsulated the arrogant nature of many present that had made the Wang Clan the wealthiest faction in the city. Even Envoy Zhao Wuhen nodded slightly, acknowledging the essence of what was said today.
Wang Tianze raised his hands, basking in the adulation, preparing to deliver the final conclusion of his lecture.
"So remember this, my disciples! The Heavens may be partial, but with enough resources, even a worm can—"
Wang Tianze’s words were violently cut off.
It was as if an invisible hand had just clamped down over the entire mountain. The ambient spiritual qi in the air, which had been peacefully circulating through the amphitheater, instantly froze. The roaring cheers of the thousands of disciples died in their throats, replaced by a sudden gasp for air.
Then, the aura descended.
A terrifying Nascent Soul aura slammed into the area with the force of a falling meteor. The paving of the stage instantly cracked under the sheer weight. Thousands of Qi Condensation and Foundation Establishment disciples were violently thrown from their seats, slammed face-first into the ground, coughing up blood as their body screamed in agony.
Wang Tianze’s eyes bulged from their sockets. His mid-stage Core Formation qi was instantly suppressed, and the Patriarch of the Wang Clan was forced roughly to his knees, his robes tearing as he was pinned against his own stage.
Even Envoy Zhao Wuhen, the Middle Stage Nascent Soul expert of the Cultivation Council, violently gripped the armrests of his throne. The armrests shattered in his hands as he was forcefully pushed back into his seat, his robes snapping wildly in the sudden wind. His eyes were wide with shock.
Everyone on the mountain, struggling against the aura, forced their eyes upward.
High above the Peak of Golden Wisdom, blocking out the morning sun, hovered Lin Yuan. His deep purple eyes looked down at the clan, his black-and-white Daoist robes fluttering in his arrival.