025. The Cultivators’ Gathering

The path of cultivation is inherently one that consumes wealth and resources. To say nothing of the elixirs and magical instruments monopolized by the sects—those cannot be bought even with money. The herbs for medicinal baths cost money, don’t they? The spiritual ingredients used to make extra meals every day—those cost money as well. Even the clothes they wear, embroidered with spirit-gathering charms, require money. And that’s not to mention all the other assorted expenses.

As disciples of one of the three great Daoist temples, they already enjoyed many advantages; they did not have to scramble for money every day. However, aside from what was needed for cultivation, the sect rarely distributed additional resources. Even when performing tasks for the sect, the rewards were meager, and as for spirit stones, those were out of the question—unless one became a high-ranking steward like Zhang Zhao or Gu Yuanliang. Yet, that was no easier than becoming a master; those individuals were simply not strong enough to enter the Three Palaces, but had powerful patrons to rely on.

Spirit stones were what she had received upon entering the sect, along with her universe pouch: those ten glowing jade stones. They contain abundant spiritual energy and can store the invisible and intangible qi, making them exceedingly precious. According to Lingyu’s knowledge, spirit stones are produced in limited quantities, most of which are divided among the great temples, with only a scant few ever entering wider circulation.

Because they are rare, easy to store, do not depreciate, and are easily measured, spirit stones have become the currency of the cultivation world. On the other hand, because of their scarcity, cultivators still frequently use gold, silver, and spirit pearls for transactions.

Spirit stones are naturally formed, whereas spirit pearls are man-made. Pearls and jade can both store spiritual energy, but naturally imbued pearls are extremely rare and, unlike spirit stones, do not form in veins. However, cultivators can transfer the spiritual energy stored in spirit stones into pearls, thinning out the energy and thus creating a denomination smaller than that of spirit stones—the spirit pearl.

For disciples of the Upper Court, gold and silver can no longer buy anything of use, while spirit stones are too precious. Thus, spirit pearls have become the primary currency.

Back then, Lingyu had inherited the belongings of Xuan Chenzi and the other two, totaling over two hundred spirit stones—a fortune for a disciple like her.

At Xuanyuan Temple, upon entering the Upper Court, the sect issues ten spirit stones at once, and another ten each year thereafter, with no other means of obtaining them. For someone like her, who had only been in the Upper Court for a few years, a few dozen stones at most could be accumulated. Given that cultivating with spirit stones is much faster, these stones are quickly spent; retaining a mere ten or so is considered fortunate.

At present, Lingyu was not lacking in money. In the early stages of sword cultivation, body tempering and practicing sword qi did not require much spirit stone consumption. Nevertheless, Ji Wu’s proposal piqued her interest—if she had enough money, she could pursue an alternative path, cultivating both law and sword. That way, her advancement would be much swifter.

“Make money? How do you intend to do that?”

Ji Wu glanced at Shi Jingbai, who was quietly eating beside them, and lowered his voice. “I want to organize a cultivators’ forum.”

“Huh?” Lingyu was puzzled.

Ji Wu explained, “I’ve thought about this for a long time—if we want to make money, from whom should we earn it? Certainly not from the sect. And as for our fellow disciples... what could we possibly offer them?”

Lingyu pondered this and nodded. The sect exercised strict control over resources, ensuring that Upper Court disciples’ daily needs were met, but never issuing extra spirit stones, magical instruments, or elixirs. As Ji Wu said, what could they offer their peers? Whatever they had, so did the others; everyone knew how hard it was to obtain spirit stones, and resented only having too few, not wishing to part with any.

Before entering the Upper Court, Ji Wu had run errands for Upper Court disciples, earning some spirit pearls that way. But afterwards, such menial work would be beneath him and not worthwhile. He had also acted as a broker, leveraging his connections to facilitate transactions, but dealings among Upper Court disciples were few, and the commissions earned from such introductions were barely worth mentioning.

In her three years since joining the sect, Lingyu had never considered making spirit stones, not only because she was so busy, but also because, from her perspective as someone raised in a merchant family, the internal supply and demand within Xuanyuan Temple was completely unbalanced, making a vibrant market impossible. No matter how much one might wish, there was simply no opportunity. Unless the temple itself changed its methods of cultivating disciples.

But was that possible? For centuries, the three great Daoist temples had followed the same model. For Xuanyuan Temple to change, the other two would have to follow suit, and that would shake the foundation of the entire Daoist community—no one would dare make such a drastic decision lightly.

Ji Wu said, “That’s why, if we want to earn money, we cannot do so from within the sect. If we want to earn, it must be from outsiders.”

Lingyu sighed. “But you know, the cultivators of small temples and minor clans are hardly wealthy, to say nothing of wandering cultivators.”

“But we have what they need,” Ji Wu replied with a mysterious smile.

Seeing his expression, Lingyu paused. “You mean…”

Ji Wu spoke solemnly, “Why do all the cultivators under heaven strive to join the three great temples? It’s because we possess what they desire most.”

“First, the three great temples monopolize resources. Second, they enjoy the reverence of the world and hold an exalted status. Third,” Lingyu paused, “they have a complete system for training disciples.”

A shrewd smile appeared on Ji Wu’s tanned, honest-looking face as he gave her a thumbs-up. “Senior Sister Cheng is as sharp as ever—you got it in one.”

Flattered, Lingyu did not let it distract her from the main point. “So, how exactly do you plan to organize this forum?”

Ji Wu said, “The lecture is about to begin. How about we talk more after, Senior Sister?”

Lingyu glanced at the now nearly empty dining hall and nodded. “I need not go to Chongxu Palace today. If you’re free, just come find me.”

With that, they agreed to meet later and went their separate ways to Yujigong to attend the lecture.

At noon, after the lecture ended, Lingyu returned to her small courtyard. Not long after, Ji Wu came to visit and laid out his plan in detail.

After hearing Ji Wu’s plan, Lingyu could not help but marvel—it was truly remarkable that he had thought of this!

This cultivators’ forum, at its core, was a loose membership organization, one without obligations or entitlements, existing purely to meet the needs of supply and demand.

First, Ji Wu would gather several capable Upper Court disciples to lend their names to the founding of the forum. Then, members would be recruited from outside, using regular lectures and trading events as a draw to attract disciples of small temples, minor clans, and even wandering cultivators.

These people lacked proper inheritance and had only superficial understanding of Daoist teachings; they yearned for orthodox instruction but had no way to obtain it. At such a time, a forum consisting of Upper Court disciples from Xuanyuan Temple, holding regular lectures and sharing cultivation insights, would be immensely attractive to them. The reputation of the three great temples carried enormous weight beyond their own walls.

Joining was simple: pay a membership fee. The fee was modest, and well within their means. But after joining, in addition to regular lectures and trade fairs, there would be occasional special sessions—for which an additional fee would be charged. Of course, attendance was voluntary; participants could resist temptation if they wished—though who could refuse, for instance, a session where a sword cultivator from Xuanyuan Temple discussed the secrets of swordsmanship?

While marveling at Ji Wu’s ingenious plan, Lingyu reminded him, “You must be careful with this, Junior Brother. Some things must never be shared.”

Ji Wu patted his chest in assurance. “Don’t worry, Senior Sister—I’ve never made a mistake yet. I know perfectly well what can and cannot be shared. And even if I’m unsure, aren’t there senior brothers and sisters to help keep me in check?”

“So you want me to help supervise?” she teased.

“Senior Sister, you’re being too modest. How could I trouble you with such trifles? With your talent—reaching the third level of Qi Refinement at fifteen and following the sword cultivator’s path—you’re here to lend prestige! So, what do you say? Will you do me this favor?”

Lingyu considered for a moment. “Uncle Liu is strict; you know I don’t have much time.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t take much of your time,” Ji Wu replied.

After careful thought, Lingyu finally agreed. This Junior Brother had a knack for making money; perhaps he could really open up a new source of income, and she would be more than happy to share in the benefits.

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A few hundred words short—please forgive my laziness. Recently, my writing has felt uninspired, and my child has been especially noisy at night.