Imperial Cultivation Chapter 1 - 1 1 Princely Heir
Following a heavy snowfall overnight, the entirety of Yujing City was swathed in a pristine layer of white, creating a scene that truly mirrored the legendary White Jade Capital of the celestial realms.
Dream Immortal Tower stood as one of the most prominent dining establishments within Yujing City.
Its structure comprised a grand five-story main edifice flanked by four sprawling four-story auxiliary buildings.
The overlapping flying eaves imbued the architecture with an imposing, steep momentum, while the sixty-meter spire pierced the skyline with the sharp, majestic precision of a blade.
A harmonious blend of stringed instruments, flute melodies, dulcet singing, and boisterous laughter converged to form the very essence of worldly prosperity.
Because the clientele consisted exclusively of the wealthy and the noble, the average commoner found themselves intimidated and kept at a distance.
Indeed, the lives of ordinary families and the elite of Yujing existence felt like two parallel universes.
The third floor was masterfully laid out; chairs were spaced with generous gaps and partitioned by lush greenery, balancing a sense of open air with intimate seclusion.
At one such table, six elders sat draped in fine brocade and adorned with jade belts, their refined auras apparent as they drank and held a lively conversation.
“Tell me, Old Lu, did you hear the thunder yesterday?”
“I am not deaf; the sound was truly startling, enough to shake me right out of my sleep.”
“Hehe, Old Lu, do you have any inkling as to why the thunder was so resounding?”
“I find it quite baffling myself. It was snowing, not raining, so where could winter thunder come from? Could it be a sign of some great injustice?”
“Haha…”
“What is causing such amusement?”
“Old Lu, you simply lack experience.”
“Enough of the teasing, just tell me already!”
“Another Great Grandmaster has risen!”
“Hmm—?”
“Come now, Old Huang, Old Lu has only recently arrived in the city, so his ignorance is understandable. You are speaking of the Flying Flower Sword Sect producing a Great Grandmaster, correct?”
“Precisely, Song Feiqiong of the Flying Flower Sword Sect.”
“A woman?”
“She has become the third female Great Grandmaster of our Da Jing Dynasty. By the time Song Feiqiong achieved her fame, you had yet to set foot in the capital. Her emergence was like a brief flicker of light, and she faded into obscurity soon after. Nobody expected that after decades of silence, she would shock the world by attaining the rank of Great Grandmaster!”
“Old Huang, exactly how old is this Grandmaster Song?”
“She is of the same generation as I am.”
“Fifty-nine?”
“Ay, yes.”
“A Great Grandmaster… The Flying Flower Sword Sect is truly blessed!”
“As the saying goes, when one person attains the Dao, all their kin rise with them. With a Great Grandmaster now at their helm, the disciples of the Flying Flower Sword Sect can finally secure positions in the Court or join the Military Suppression Department.”
“That is the ultimate dream of every sect.”
“Service in the Court offers a path to merit, which can then be bartered for precious Spirit Pills and rare treasures. To see a third-rate sect like the Flying Flower Sword Sect ascend to prominence is truly enviable!”
“Who among us would not crave the status of a Great Grandmaster? In the entire Da Jing Dynasty, we possess only eighteen, and each one is a treasure beyond measure!”
“There is further news—have you heard that the Prince Qing Mansion has finally been unsealed?”
“The Prince Qing Mansion…?”
The group present exchanged blank stares.
None of them had any recollection of a Prince Qing.
“The Third Prince known as Prince Qing was penalized thirty years ago; his estate was sealed, and he was forbidden from all egress.”
“Ah, it comes back to me now! Thirty years have passed… the Second Prince, King Jing, was placed under confinement, and the Third Prince, King Qing, interceded on his behalf. This incensed the Emperor, who promptly ordered the mansion sealed—is that not how it unfolded?”
“If you are not long-time residents of Yujing, these old affairs involving King Jing and King Qing would naturally be lost to you.”
“This King Qing was truly ill-fated; he acted out of brotherly affection and pleaded for mercy, only to incur the imperial wrath and see his mansion locked away.”
“To put it simply, King Qing was never one to struggle for his own benefit. He possessed a weak constitution from birth, unable to embark on Cultivation, and thus never earned the Emperor’s favor. While his brothers dared not speak up, he did, and he was made an example of.”
“The current Emperor is the most capable leader in the history of Da Jing, possessing unparalleled aptitude and placing the utmost importance on Cultivation, so his lack of favor for King Qing is hardly surprising.”
“Unable to engage in martial practice… King Qing is truly a tragic figure.”
“The imperial family is notoriously cold-hearted. If one cannot practice martial arts, one can only hope for the Emperor’s pity, otherwise, life becomes quite unbearable.”
“Even under duress, he remains a prince.”
“A prince may live in luxury, but they are still plagued by the seven emotions and six desires, as well as the envy and hatred of their kin. With so many royal brothers, one is either fawning over them or being trampled underfoot.”
“I have heard that Prince Qing is actually a decent man.”
“In this world, to be a ‘good person’ without the martial strength to back it up is merely courting death!”
“Indeed… without the path of Cultivation, life in this world is simply not viable.”
“Regardless of whether the Prince Qing Mansion is open again, its decline is inevitable.”
“The Prince Qing Mansion is undeniably finished.”
…
At a table near the southern window, three figures sat quietly. A young man dressed in purple robes turned a wine cup in his hand, lost in deep contemplation.
Morning light filtered through the window paper, casting a glow upon his handsome, sharp features.
His nose was refined and bridge-like, his lips held a natural, deep color, and his eyes glimmered like cold stars; he radiated an aura of profound calm.
To his left sat a burly man whose posture resembled a crouching black bear.
To his right sat an elder with a soft appearance, clean-shaven and refined.
“Damn them…” the burly man suddenly erupted, rising to his feet and pointing at the other table, looking ready to curse.
The youth in purple subtly waved a hand.
“…” The burly man forced himself to swallow his retort, casting a resentful glare at the scholars before sitting back down with a thud.
The elders at the neighboring table remained oblivious, continuing their animated discussion.
The soft-featured elder, his skin faintly luminous as if polished with precious treasure, leaned in slightly. “Young Lord, these are merely the idle prattle of the markets. Think of them as nothing more than birdsong.”
The young man in purple shook his head, set his cup down, and stood up to depart.
The elder draped in refined clothing quickly gathered a mink coat and cloak to follow.
“Young Lord, are we not going to finish the meal?”
The burly man glanced regretfully at the untouched spread of delicacies. He followed suit, throwing one last icy glare at the prattling old men as they descended the stairs.
In the army, such a feast was a luxury rarely seen; to have it wasted because of a few chatterboxes was beyond frustrating!
Upon reaching the threshold of Dream Immortal Tower, the elder moved with exceptional speed and elegance, expertly dressing the young man in his fur hat, mink coat, and red cloak before the biting cold could reach him.
The youth in purple allowed the ministrations, gazing toward the horizon with a touch of melancholy.
The golden sun hung low, its rays transforming the thick white snow on the roofs into a shimmering, breathtaking gold.
The streets below were alive with a constant stream of pedestrians, merchants, and carriages. The surrounding stalls and shops filled the air with their eager sales pitches.
Every passerby walked with the confidence of one who carries a blade at their belt, their laughter echoing through the air.
Groups of City Guards in dark uniforms patrolled the thoroughfare with rigid efficiency. It was a scene of true, bustling prosperity.
The current Emperor, in his fiftieth year of governance, had ruled with such diligence that the Da Jing Dynasty currently basked in a rare golden age of peace.
Turning away from the view, the youth stepped out into the crowd. The waiter offered a frantic, respectful farewell as he vanished into the flow of people.
Four young men in brown, utilitarian combat gear materialized from the periphery, flanking him. Their presence emitted a subtle, invisible pressure that cleared the nearby pedestrians, creating a private space reminiscent of the legend of the “Eighteen Falls.”
He walked without haste, hands clasped behind his back.His pace was steady and composed, a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of the crowd.
His white mink coat was pristine, and the jade pendant at his waist glowed with a crystalline green hue. The white jade accenting his fur hat seemed drenched in light, giving him a refined, elegant appearance akin to a white jade tree standing stoically against the wind.
“Young Master, I say we should have disciplined them. Those gossips had no right to speak of our Prince in such a manner!” Guo Chi, the commander of his guards, grumbled with lingering dissatisfaction.
Chu Zhiyuan, the youth in purple, maintained a solemn expression, though his heart remained unruffled. The memories of his past life were to him like distant, passing clouds. In this existence, he was the Princely Heir of the third prince, Crown Prince Qing.
Regardless of his mansion’s fallen status, it afforded him a life of absolute luxury, far removed from the desperate, frantic pace of his prior life. This shift in perspective allowed him to maintain a state of calm that existed entirely outside the chaos of the city.
He sharpened his focus, expanding his five senses to their limit.
In an instant, a flurry of data raced through his mind, mapping every detail within a two-hundred-square-yard radius.
He perceived the weaving paths of pedestrians, their attire, their speech, their gaits, and even the micro-expressions on their faces. He heard the rhythm of their breathing and heartbeats; he detected the flow of their inner Qi and the subtle radiance emanating from their bodies. He could smell the scents of hair and fabric, and touch the tension of the air itself.
In the tavern nearby, the clamor of the guests translated into a symphony of data—the clinking of wine, the sound of chewing, the rumble of hungry stomachs, and the shifting of wooden chairs. The scents of wine and food filtered through his senses as clearly as a tangible object, as did the texture of everything he passed.
In the nearby rouge shop, the shopkeeper’s nagging and the rhythmic dusting of boxes created a different frequency of sound.
Even in a distant, shadowed alley, the soft snoring of two traveling martial artists was perfectly audible.
The air was a thick, sensory soup of dust particles, shifting light, competing fragrances, and the shifting winds of the city.
For those two hundred yards, he possessed total awareness; he perceived, heard, smelled, and touched everything.
The experience was intoxicating, yet it carried the subconscious weight of a deity gazing down upon the mortal world. He remained keenly aware, however, that while his perception was all-encompassing, it did not grant him the power to command the fate of those he watched.
This god-like state of mind, combined with his rational clarity, left him profoundly composed, a cold spectator to the human struggle.
Among the forty-six individuals passing by, thirty-three were martial artists, with eighteen favoring the sword. Two individuals, specifically, glowed with a distinct, heightened radiance—they had reached the Innate Realm.
They possessed the strength to strike down his current form, for he remained at the perfection stage of the Postnatal realm. Only he, with his heightened senses, could detect that subtle glow.
Most importantly, these two Innate masters were actively utilizing secret techniques to mask their presence as they trailed him. Since the reopening of the mansion three days ago, they had been following him relentlessly, successfully evading the notice of his guards.