My Cultivation Has a Progress Bar

The Northwest of Zhongzhou.

Shangning Road, Shangning Lake.

Years ago, the area was damaged by a great battle between four Third Realm Cultivators. Now, thanks to the restoration efforts of local Cultivators, it had been returned to its former state. The picturesque lake surface once again rippled with turquoise waves, and several towns had been built nearby. The people in these towns relied on the great lake, having resumed their simple, everyday lives.

To the west of Shangning Lake lay a range of rolling mountains covered in highland cypresses. A magnificent city had been built at the entrance to the mountain range. The city was divided by an outer and an inner wall. The outer wall was a twenty-foot-high rammed-earth rampart, while the Inner City wall was made of sixty-foot-high giant stones, reinforced in critical places with massive iron spikes.

Outside the city walls stretched vast fields of highland wheat. It was currently winter, and a thin layer of snow covered the young winter wheat shoots. The view carried the desolate beauty of a highland Snowfield.

In the city’s central district stood a towering structure built from giant stones. Its surface emitted a translucent white glow. It was likely a Barrier Formation, yet the magic used resembled the Heavenly Gate Technique of the Yuqing Sect.

This was the newly built Shangning City!

It was the power base that Wang Lian, a junior of Wang Ping’s family, was managing in the Northwest with the help of Zhang Xinghuai.

The Court had officially recognized this emerging city last year and established the Northwest Governor’s Mansion here to oversee all Military Array matters for both Shangning Road and Zhushan Road.

Wang Lian was, naturally, the Grand Commander of the Northwest. This move drew the ire of many warlord factions in Zhushan Road and the northern parts of Shangning Road. Over the past year, they had continuously sent small units to harass the territories under Wang Lian’s control, leaving the civil and military officials of the Great Governor Mansion utterly exhausted.

「Yuanding 24th Year, the sixth day of the first month.」

Bright red lanterns still glowed inside and outside the city. The common people were taking advantage of the rare farming off-season to visit relatives. Meanwhile, some refugees who had fled here huddled in grass huts near the porridge stall outside the city, enduring hunger and cold, hoping for better luck next year.

In the morning, just as the sky began to brighten, the clerks at the porridge stall were busy ladling out congee. A troop of Silver Armored Knights emerged from the city, escorting a middle-aged man dressed in a brocade, cotton-padded robe.

After leaving the city, the troop headed north, arriving at a mountain gate to the west of the mountain range near the city.

Atop this mountain range was a very understated Daoist Temple. The Silver Armored Knights reined in their horses simultaneously before the mountain gate. The middle-aged man’s horsemanship was a bit poorer; his warhorse went past the gate before he could pull on the reins, drawing loud "HAHA"s from the knights behind him.

Their laughter was the sound of friendly jesting, not mockery.

After stopping his horse, the middle-aged man dismounted. He cursed his steed a couple of times, then shot a couple of curses back at the knights before flicking the reins and heading up the mountain.

His steps were nimble, and his pace was extremely fast.

「Half an hour later.」

The middle-aged man appeared before the courtyard of a Daoist Temple built from piled rubble.

"Mr. Zhang, my master has been waiting for you for a long time."

The courtyard gate was open. A young Daoist wearing a bearskin coat stood at the entrance to greet him. Beneath the coat was a tattered Blue Daoist Robe. Combined with the surrounding scene, the reception felt somewhat shabby and incongruous.

And the middle-aged man he was welcoming was none other than Zhang Xinghuai, Wang Ping’s martial nephew.

He cupped his fist and said, "Thank you," then followed the young Daoist into the courtyard. Inside, a dozen or so Daoists were practicing their cultivation—all basic energy-nurturing exercises. In the distance, a few older Daoists could be seen busy at work in the snow-covered fields.

The Daoist leading the way guided Zhang Xinghuai higher up along the mountain’s spine. They came to a snow-covered mountainside where a small Dao Field had been built on the edge. The Dao Field’s courtyard was out of place with the surrounding snowy landscape, because not a single snowflake fell within it.

In the middle of the courtyard was a table carved from a giant stone. Beside it sat an old man drinking tea by himself. He was bald and wore a Daoist Robe. His grizzled beard covered most of his chest and obscured much of his face. The visible parts of his face were covered in wrinkles, interspersed with unsightly age spots.

Zhang Xinghuai walked into the courtyard and chuckled. "This was originally a place of wonderful atmosphere, but you used Magic to clear the snow, completely ruining the mood."

"I chose to open my Dao Field here because the view is good, not for the atmosphere," the old man said, gesturing to the seat across from him. He then waved away the Daoist who had followed them in.

"Well said. Behind all the beautiful scenery in this world are the blood and tears of the common people!" Zhang Xinghuai accepted the tea the old man offered him and took a comfortable sip. He turned his head to look at Shangning City, visible in the distance below, a multitude of thoughts flickering in his eyes.

"People are born with their own destinies. Some are slaves, some are officials. Some beg for a living, and some rule the world. Your benevolence shouldn’t be so easily stirred. It will become your weakness!"

Zhang Xinghuai retorted, "This isn’t benevolence. I have no benevolence. I just feel that the path Zhongzhou has taken is wrong. Don’t talk to me about destiny. I believe in fate, and I know my own limits, but I refuse to just passively accept it. A man has to do something with his life."

The old man chuckled and raised his own teacup. Instead of arguing with Zhang Xinghuai, he agreed, "You will achieve great things."

Zhang Xinghuai drained his cup in one gulp, set it down, and looked at the old man. "My martial uncle sent a letter. He told me the Yang Family of Yunzhou Road is going to re-establish their court, and he wants me to follow suit and declare my own title as soon as I hear the news."

The old man leaned back slightly, then subconsciously stroked the beard on his chest. "A good thing. This must be the Xiao Shan Lord’s idea. That martial uncle of yours wouldn’t do something so audacious."

"If we do this, we will be making a complete break with the Court. The Court’s next step will be to name the opposing Rebel Army as the Grand Commander of the Northwest."

"We’ve already come this far. Why are you still so hesitant?"

Zhang Xinghuai let out a self-deprecating laugh and brushed non-existent snow off his clothes. "There was another line in my martial uncle’s letter. He said we should only declare our own title if the True Yang Sect ignores the Yang Family’s declaration."

"The True Yang Sect is indeed a huge problem, but many people have joined the game this time."

"So, will the True Yang Sect really stay out of it?"

"Your mind is in turmoil."

"How could it not be? I’ve been waiting for this opportunity. But don’t you see? The moment we declare our own title, it’s tantamount to breaking with the Court. I’ll first have to betray the Zhonghui Academy that my own teacher founded. After that, letters of denunciation will flood my desk like a tide!"

"Are such trivial, worldly matters worthy of your concern?"

"No, I just wanted to talk about it. That’s all."

Zhang Xinghuai looked down at the city, which was gradually growing busier, and said defiantly, "The last thing I want to see is that Rebel Army being named Grand Commander. The very thought makes me sick."

"Once you’ve defeated them, you can make them feed your horses!"

"Excellent idea!"

The two of them burst out laughing at the thought.

After the laughter died down, Zhang Xinghuai stared at the old man and said, "I’ve decided to join the Jimin Association. I want to meet this so-called Saint and see how he differs from my Human Dao."

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