My Cultivation Has a Progress Bar

The Court had set up no defenses on Jianglin Road. Following Wang Ping’s orders, the great army of Chu Country pushed all the way to Moon Mountain. Here, the local Government Army still had to put up a token defense—after all, the Imperial Mausoleum was nearby.

Before long, it was the Spring Festival. In military camps across Chu Country, aside from those on the front lines, chickens were being killed and sheep slaughtered, filling the air with a lively, celebratory atmosphere. Along Ningzhou Road, large contingents of people continued to travel by both land and water. These were migrants the Chu Kingdom Court had selected from various regions, preparing to relocate to the area surrounding True Yang Mountain.

The Chu Kingdom Court divided this region into three administrative districts. The western area, bordering Shanwu Road and Xinhe Road, was designated Chuanchong Road, meaning "Middle of the Mountains and Rivers." The main peak region of True Yang Mountain was a subject of much debate; several names were submitted over three days, but in the end, Wang Ping directly named it True Yang Road. The eastern region, following the demarcation of the eastern waterways of Zhongzhou, was named Dongjiang Road.

The Court needed to complete the relocation effort during the winter so that new farmland could be cultivated in the spring and planted with the year’s crops. To this end, the major clans from various regions dispatched over three thousand Qi Cultivators to help the common people build fortified towns.

On the day of the Spring Festival, many people came to the temporary Dao Fields on the summit of Laishan to pay their respects. Ganxing’s disciples and their students were the most numerous, and they held various solemn tea-serving ceremonies. The Huaimo Taoist, on the other hand, had the fewest visitors. Only two of his disciples, one man and one woman, came, and he sent them away after exchanging just a few words.

As for Wang Ping, he had sent a letter to Qianmu Temple before the Spring Festival, telling them not to come pay their respects. Consequently, only Zuo Xuan, Liu Shuang, and Zhao Yu’Er came to visit. They stayed for no more than half an hour, as they were all incredibly busy. Yu Lian left with them.

Around 3:45 PM, Wang Ping was sitting alone at the edge of a cliff with a chessboard before him. A puppet was brewing tea for him nearby. From beneath the clouds to the north, a communication cultivator’s Identity Token rose into the air, followed by the sound of something tearing through the sky. A Gold Cultivator landed on the cliff’s edge.

"Greetings, Changqing Zhenren!" The Gold Cultivator first cupped his fist in salute. He wore a standard-issue, blue, narrow-sleeved Daoist Robe. Both his robes and waist token were inscribed with standard-issue identification arrays to distinguish friend from foe.

Wang Ping lifted his teacup and took a sip. His gaze remained on the chessboard he was arranging as he asked casually, "What is it?"

"Chancellor Zhang Xinghuai of the Datong Court and Sect Leader Lu Shan of the Nine Tripods Sect on Shanwu Road have submitted a formal request for an audience outside our camp." As he spoke, the Gold Cultivator presented a letter with both hands.

"How did those two end up together?" Wang Ping had been so focused on True Yang Mountain lately that he hadn’t been following the situation in the Northwest.

As he spoke, he looked up at the Gold Cultivator before him. He was a very young-looking cultivator. Judging by the soft contours of his face, he was likely born and raised in the south.

Wang Ping placed a piece on the board. Then, he held out his hand and crooked a finger. The letter was instantly swept up by Wood Spirit Qi and landed steadily in his hand.

The letter was from Zhang Xinghuai. Its contents were full of the kind of trivialities a junior might share with an elder, making it read more like a family letter.

"Bring them here."

Wang Ping put the letter away, showing no intention of sending a reply.

The Gold Cultivator cupped his fist and said, "Yes, sir," then respectfully retreated to the edge of the cliff. Another sound of tearing air followed as he departed.

It was over two hours later when the Gold Cultivator returned. By then, the sky had completely darkened. The delay was because the military camp where Zhang Xinghuai and Lu Shan had made their request was located on the border between Ningzhou Road and Shanwu Road.

When the Gold Cultivator landed on the summit with the two men, he was about to offer a salute, but Wang Ping waved him away. Taking the hint, the cultivator immediately retreated to the edge of the cliff. He could not leave yet; wartime military regulations stipulated that he had to be the one to escort his guests away when they left.

"Greetings, Martial Uncle!"

"You have quite the elegant pastime, Changqing Zhenren."

Zhang Xinghuai’s tone was as respectful as ever, while Lu Shan’s comment seemed a bit forced, as if he were trying to curry favor.

Wang Ping rose, offered a casual cupped-fist salute to the two men, and then gestured to the two stools before him. "Sit," he invited.

As he greeted them, he studied Zhang Xinghuai intently. He could clearly sense that Zhang Xinghuai possessed the same aura as Guan Xi and Liu Huai’en.

"So you took that step after all," Wang Ping said quietly as Zhang Xinghuai approached.

"Yes." Zhang Xinghuai offered no explanation. Some things could not be clarified with words; silence was often better.

Wang Ping studied Zhang Xinghuai intently once more. As the three of them took their seats and the puppet began to pour tea, he let out a long breath and asked, "What is this Saint of theirs like?"

"Very interesting."

"Interesting?"

Wang Ping met Zhang Xinghuai’s gaze. He realized that Zhang Xinghuai, just like Guan Xi and Liu Huai’en, did not show any fanatical devotion to this so-called Saint. Rather, he regarded the figure with an air of approval. This was even more bizarre. The three men had distinctly different values and outlooks on life, yet they had all found a shared sense of validation in this "Saint" of theirs.

"In what way is he interesting?" Wang Ping couldn’t help but ask.

"He is everywhere, yet he is nowhere," Zhang Xinghuai said, speaking in riddles like a Monk.

"Have you learned their riddles after collaborating with those bald donkeys from the Snowfield?" Lu Shan said with a chuckle. His remark showed that the two of them were on rather good terms, and that he, like Wang Ping, was deeply intrigued by this so-called Saint.

"That is what’s interesting about the Saint. If you believe, he is everywhere. If you do not, he does not exist."

"And you believe?" Wang Ping picked up a game piece, idly turning it over in his fingers as he fixed a cold stare on Zhang Xinghuai’s face.

"I believe in what I am doing. The Saint doesn’t care whether you believe in him; he only cares about your actions," Zhang Xinghuai replied, wearing the humble smile of a junior addressing a senior.

Wang Ping looked away and placed the piece in his hand on the board. "It seems I’ll never be able to understand," he said, "unless I meet this Saint for myself."

"You will most likely never meet the Saint, Martial Uncle. Your Dao does not align with the Saint’s Dao."

"I see."

Wang Ping nodded, his expression suddenly suggesting he had lost interest in the topic. The game on his board was already at its end. "Care for a match?" he asked.

"I’d be glad to."

Zhang Xinghuai stood up and began sorting the black and white stones on the board. Just as Wang Ping was about to speak with Lu Shan, a streak of azure light flashed from beneath the dark clouds, zipping across the summit of Laishan in an instant.

It was Yu Lian.

Her massive form hovered in the sky above Laishan. Her enormous, slitted pupils swept over Zhang Xinghuai and Lu Shan before her body shrank, transforming into a streak of light that landed beside Wang Ping. She looked at Zhang Xinghuai and asked, "You’ve joined the Jimin Association?"

Zhang Xinghuai cupped his fist. "Yes, Martial Uncle Yu Lian."

Yu Lian immediately asked, "So what is the Saint like? Does he look exactly like the portraits?"

"The Saint we refer to is not one of the two traditional Saints."

"Huh? Why not?"

...

Amid their idle chatter, Zhang Xinghuai finished clearing the board. Wang Ping grabbed a handful of stones and had him guess if the number was odd or even to decide the first move. In the end, Zhang Xinghuai took the black stones and went first.

After they both finished their opening moves, Wang Ping lifted his teacup and turned to Lu Shan. "Fellow Daoist, for you to seek me out during the Spring Festival, you must have an important matter to discuss. Please, speak your mind."

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