"Guest or staff, I wonder..." Yang Qing thoughtfully murmured as he reached out for the mungbean cakes, dipping one into the peanut chili sauce before taking a bite. He took a brief pause to savor the flavor, his thoughts gathering once more.
"As for Bai Chen..." he continued as he examined the floor again. The more he looked, the more it felt like this was likely the place where the exchange—or whatever it was the kidnapper wanted him for—had occurred.
The ssage left behind hadn’t told him which floor to go to when he arrived, which likely ant the kidnapper already knew exactly which floor Bai Chen would be taken to the mont he arrived.
Maybe the sa thing that happened to him had happened to Bai Chen—that Mada Cai Shan or Sun Biya had told him he t the standards of the fourth floor and led him here. And once he was here, he would have realized how conducive this place was—at least where a ransom exchange was concerned.
Co to think of it, I never really did ask about the conditions for being allowed entry into this floor... thought Yang Qing, his brows furrowing slightly before relaxing once more.
He decided he’d bring it up the next ti Sun Biya ca around with the next set—sothing he increasingly felt was bound to happen sooner than he or she likely anticipated, given how unexpectedly flavorful the dishes were.
Out of temptation, he found himself deliberating another matter as he popped another mungbean cake into his mouth. After a few thoughtful chews, he made up his mind: he might as well order two more sets on top of the ones he already ordered.
Nodding to himself as excitent and anticipation welled up inside him, his movents ca to a pause.
His attention shifted from the plates of food crowding his table to the go tile now pressed between his left fingers.
"Let’s see what they have," he murmured with a flicker of amusent in his tone as he playfully moved the tile from finger to finger until it finally ca to rest in his palm.
Before pouring his spiritual sense into it, Yang Qing reached for the teapot and poured himself a cup of frost plum and osmanthus infusion tea.
The sweet scent wafted up gently, prompting him to take a sip first, savoring it... before finally turning his attention back to the tile.
"Mmmh!" Yang Qing humd in delightful surprise after the sip. He pulled the cup away from his mouth and stretched it out in front of him, examining its contents with widened eyes. They’ve truly lived up to their na, he thought, giving the cup another once-over, still filled with surprise.
That tea instantly ranked in the top four of the best teas he’d ever drunk. The food and wine were excellent, but it was the tea where the Velvet Orchid showed its true mastery. It wasn’t just the flavor that srized him—it was the subtle powers of the Grand Dao flowing within the tea. The deeper he savored it, the more apparent those traces beca.
They have a Jiang Chen of their own, he mused as the smooth-handed tea maker from the Thousands Flavors Restaurant flashed through his mind while he went in for another sip. Then again, it shouldn’t be surprising. They are a teahouse after all, and one catering to scholars at that. Being this good at it should be par for the course.
After the fourth sip, Yang Qing reluctantly set his cup down as his attention returned to the tile.
Following Sun Biya’s instructions, he poured his spiritual sense into the go tile. The mont he did, five rectangular wooden tiles imdiately appeared in his mind. They were blank at first, but a second later, beautiful writing began to bloom across their surfaces.
As he looked at them, Yang Qing realized the writings were titles: Cultivation and its related philosophies, Botany Alchemy Zoology and other environntal studies, Statecraft and associated social constructs between state and netizen, flow of Arts, and the last one—Curiosities.
Following what Sun Biya had told him, Yang Qing willed his mind to command the contents of the first tile to be revealed—the one titled Cultivation and its related philosophies.
The mont he did, it burst into red-orange flas that congealed to form a long row filled with scrolls, arranged in a manner similar to what Yang Qing had seen in libraries.
In his mind’s eye, Yang Qing walked over to the shelf, and without even needing to touch the scrolls, the re intent to know what they held caused an overview of their contents to appear before him.
The first scroll he approached was about cultivation arts, and the supposition that their prolonged use altered the environnt and its occupants.
The author of the scroll hypothesized that if a certain type of cultivation art was practiced over a prolonged period in a specific area, that area would gradually begin to be affected by the lingering effects of that cultivation art. Over ti, the environnt would evolve in response to that influence, and the resulting adaptations would beco so pronounced that they would start to influence the physiological makeup of the living beings within it—from plants to animals, and even humans.
In cultivation terms, this ant that spiritual plants and other natural treasures suited to that particular cultivation art would begin to erge, born from the environntal changes brought about by prolonged exposure. These changes would even extend to the spiritual veins in the area.
Then ca the human elent. Just like the plants and natural treasures, humans living in that environnt would, over ti, undergo physiological changes influenced by their surroundings. As a result, they would naturally beco better suited to that cultivation art, their bodies gradually attuning to it.
The author surmised that when it ca to long-standing organizations—especially clans that had one mainstay cultivation art as their signature—the reason those clans were able to maintain their strength over extended periods of ti was because of their foundation.
To most, the foundation here would be the strength of their cultivators and the accumulation of resources, and they’d be right to think so. But to the author, the foundation he was focusing on—while sowhat similar—was also different.
According to him, the true foundation behind the longevity of these ancient clans lay in a powerful cultivation art that had been practiced for so long it had altered the environnt to suit its continued existence.
The resources produced by their lands could be traced back to that cultivation art. And as for their talents—like most clans, they prized their bloodline above all, claiming it to be one of the main sources of their strength.
The author, in his journal, agreed with that sentint, but with a twist. In his view, the bloodline wasn’t powerful because of inherited genes from so ancient ancestor. Rather, it was because the cultivation art had so deeply influenced and transford the environnt that it, in turn, shaped the physiological makeup of the clan mbers who lived and cultivated within it.
Those ’geniuses’ born into such clans, he argued, were the natural result of that long-term environntal conditioning.
The more powerful the cultivation art—and the more skilled the practitioner drawing out its potential—the more pronounced its effects on the environnt would be.
Sects, clans, and other organizations with powerful cultivators were able to produce talents not just because they had the resources or could train them, but, as the author proposed, because their presence—and the cultivation art they practiced—created an environnt that literally birthed talent.
So, if an organization wanted to produce a talented genius, all they needed to do (according to the author) was find a decent cultivation art, practice only that cultivation art diligently for thousands upon thousands of years, and as long as they did so faithfully, then at so point in that long tiline, a genius would be born. And from that genius, many more would follow—so long as the tradition continued.
"Cultivating geniuses," Yang Qing muttered in amusent. "A rather apt na for it," he added.
He chuckled again as thoughts of his clan surfaced in his mind.
Hopefully none of them ever sees this report, otherwise they might beco even more overzealous than they already are, Yang Qing thought with a trace of worry, quickly shoving those thoughts to the very, very back of his mind where everything associated with his clan mbers needed to be.
Yang Qing then proceeded to peruse a few more scrolls, each just as thought-provoking as the last, before finally exiting that token. He moved on to the others, skimming through a few until he reached Curiosities—the one he ultimately decided to focus on.
While the other subject matters were interesting, and so of the information unique, much of it was still sothing he could find in the Order’s library if he looked hard enough. But Curiosities...
Curiosities covered all manner of strange rumors and wild theories under the sun. Now that intrigued him. Just looking at the tile and imagining the potential within filled him with the sa anticipatory excitent he always felt when combing through cultivation markets in search of buried treasures.
Bubbling with excitent, Yang Qing willed the token to reveal its contents. Just like the others, it burst into red-orange flas and reford into a long row—this ti with round compartnts, each holding a scroll.
Unlike before, where he simply browsed, this ti the very first scroll he reached for, he gave the command: he wanted to read it. An instant later, an old yellow-brown booklet appeared in his palms, prompting Yang Qing to cut off his connection with the go tile as his attention honed in on the booklet.
With a delicate touch, Yang Qing opened it.
To the daring reader—welco. You will not regret this. Join , the wandering scholar Song Quan, as we delve into the questions that have long stirred my curiosity during my travels across this vast world. I have drunk deeply of its wonders.
Be warned: my thoughts are not for the faint of heart, but for the daringly curious. And just as life is unpredictable, so too are my thoughts, which are at tis scattered, spontaneous, and at tis entirely illogical. But is that not the very charm of life? Its unpredictability? And as students of life, should we not embrace the sa?
Now, to the big questions...
With the sky as my blanket and the earth as my bed, I do not claim to be the most well-traveled soul, but I daresay I have walked far and seen much in the 1,400 years of my wandering. And in all that ti, of the millions of curiosities and questions that fuel my restless heart, a few still continue to puzzle ...
Where did the dragons go? Or the phoenixes? The behemoth kunpeng? What of those other mythical races?
As children, we likely all shared the daring ambition to mount a dragon, bathe in phoenix flas to beco immortal, or gaze upon a kunpeng to see if it was truly as massive as a star and as swift through sea or sky as the legends claim. It was with that dream in my heart that I set out to seek them.
Well... with the wisdom of age, I now know better than to try sothing as audacious as mounting a dragon—but I still wished to see at least one of them, just once.
And yet, in all this ti—despite all my efforts—I have never once caught their trail. Not even a single whiff.
There are accounts, records, and tales that speak of how they once walked among us. And yet, in all my years of searching, I’ve never seen one. Not even an egg. Where did they go? As powerful as they are, surely they’d have made their presence known at so point. And yet... from what I’ve read, and from conversations with like-minded friends, it has been close to 20,000 years since anyone last saw one.
So might say they’re simply reclusive, and that’s why they haven’t been seen or heard from—and they’d be right... partially, that is. Phoenixes, from what I’ve read, always preferred solitude. The rocs are said to dwell in the deepest reaches of the void.
But what about the dragons? While I an no disrespect, many accounts describe them as a lecherous race that loves to show off and has a deep appreciation for the finer things in life. Co to think of it, perhaps I might be a descendant of one, given a few... similarities we share.
Ahem, back to the topic—there’s no way a race with those characteristics would just hide itself away for thousands of years without leaving a trace.
So where did they go? And the rest of them? I’ve heard whispers here and there that the Horizon Odyssey Guild might have so answers. Maybe even the Dragon adow. But alas, prying information from either would take significant contributions and status.
Still, as a scholar devoted to uncovering the secrets of this world, I will endeavor to get to the bottom of it because I can’t quell the fears of my heart that very very dark secrets lie behind their disappearance.
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