Chapter 43: The True World of Cultivation!

The next day, at dawn.

It was rare for Ye Jiuyao to rise so early, and those in the Prince’s Residence who knew he was departing for the Realm of a Thousand Emperors had all gathered here.

“Be careful on your journey!”

“Your Majesty, take care!”

“Master, make a good impression over there. Once you’ve established yourself, remember to bring me along.”

…

Sincere words of farewell fell one after another. Ye Jiuyao looked at these familiar faces, a sudden warmth blooming within his heart.

He, an orphan, had received so much care. When his gaze landed on Ye Hanzhou, a sudden gust of wind stung his eyes.

“No one’s allowed to cry. Today is the day I go to the Realm of a Thousand Emperors to make a name for myself,” Ye Jiuyao teased, seeing their eyes redden. Laughter broke out among the group.

“I’m off.”

With a surge of vital energy, a glow burst forth at Ye Jiuyao’s feet, swirling instantly into motion.

His figure gradually blurred within the array as everyone waved their farewells.

Ye Hanzhou, having learned everything the previous day, knew that Ye Jiuyao had long prepared for this. The array was of his own design, something he had arranged well in advance, knowledge gleaned from books.

Some people are destined to journey far and wide; all you can do is quietly wish them well.

Ye Jiuyao was one such person.

The battle between the Central Heavenly and Western Desert Realms continued to spread, its influence growing with each passing day, until everyone in the Newborn World had heard the tale.

A few days later, Zhong Yuanhua led the people of Great Zhou to begin consolidating power. The other three realms fell silent; none stepped forward to challenge them.

The Hellspring Hall, the Qi and Jiang families, and many other clans and sects dissolved before the wave of consolidation.

Yet Zhong Yuanhua and his followers still unleashed a campaign of retribution: any force that had participated in the war was subject to their judgment. After all, one must pay for one’s actions. For those with meager cultivation, they could not be bothered; but for the powerful, no mercy was shown.

…

In the Realm of a Thousand Emperors, within an inn at Xuantian Town.

The inn itself was named after the town—Xuantian Inn—reputed as one of the finest establishments in the area, hosting nearly every major banquet in town.

Its buildings rivaled palaces, with jade towers and lofty pavilions rising like pillars to the sky, each private room and elegant seat entirely independent. Pavilions, winding corridors, verdant trees, vibrant flowers, pools where brocaded carp swam—the place was packed to the brim with guests.

In one unremarkable corner sat a slender, inconspicuous figure. Amid the constant flow of people, no one paid him any mind, as if his presence was entirely dispensable.

This youth was, of course, Ye Jiuyao. It had been three days since his arrival in the Realm of a Thousand Emperors, three days spent tucked away in a corner, so consistently that even the inn staff had come to know him.

Thus, Ye Jiuyao had learned much. The Realm of a Thousand Emperors was truly unlike the Newborn World. If there was any similarity, it was only that all cultivators here refined vital energy.

Here, strength was all that mattered. There were no empires or secular kingdoms—only a host of powerful sects. The Tianyu Sect was considered merely a seventh-tier sect.

The strongest sect in Xuantian Town was no more than ninth-grade, yet even a minor elder there possessed cultivation at the Vital Energy Entry realm, far surpassing the lords of the Five Realms.

From this, one could see how formidable the cultivation culture was in the Realm of a Thousand Emperors.

During these three days, Ye Jiuyao had also come to understand the realm’s hierarchy—not only in cultivation, but also in artifacts, alchemy, formations, and more, all gleaned from his time in the inn.

If cultivation in the Newborn World was like spiritual gestation, then in the Realm of a Thousand Emperors, it was the practice of one who had been born into the world.

The stages from Body Opening to Vital Energy Entry were collectively called the Awakening Realm, above which were realms such as Celestial Human, Sage Monarch, Saint, and Saint Sovereign—each with its own distinctions.

The Awakening Realm itself was divided much as the Newborn World’s minor realms had been, but here, the classification was simpler: three, six, and nine grades.

Ye Jiuyao’s current cultivation placed him in the upper third—known here as the Seventh Level of Awakening.

“Brother, another pot of wine,” Ye Jiuyao called out.

The innkeeper responded at once and soon arrived with a bottle for him.

“Enjoy, young man. If you need more, just call me. There’s plenty, but don’t overindulge—it’s not good for you,” the innkeeper said with genuine concern, almost as if looking after his own brother.

Ye Jiuyao chuckled softly and nodded, grateful for a little kindness in this foreign land.

“Don’t worry, brother—I’ll be careful.”

Slowly, Ye Jiuyao filled his cup, drinking one after another, until the sun set in the west and he was finally satisfied and ready to leave.

Seeing that he’d had quite a bit, the innkeeper kindly offered his arm to help him out. Just then, a young nobleman strode in.

“Ouch!” the young lord cried out as if in pain. Ye Jiuyao glanced over him—clearly the pampered, idle son of some wealthy family—and paid him no heed. He released the innkeeper and said,

“I’m not drunk, brother. Go on, go on…”

“Where did this pauper come from, walking around with his eyes closed? You bump into me and don’t even apologize?”

Before Ye Jiuyao could finish, the nobleman who’d cried out spoke up, but Ye Jiuyao ignored him and headed for the door.

“Stop right there!” the young lord barked, anger darkening his features. Never before had anyone slighted him so in Xuantian Inn, the most renowned establishment in town.

“Young man… perhaps you should just apologize?” the innkeeper whispered, casting Ye Jiuyao a meaningful look, clearly knowing the nobleman. But Ye Jiuyao seemed not to notice.

“Go on, brother. This is all just an act. Look—he fell but not a speck of dust touched him. He’s just in a bad mood and wants to take it out on someone. I just happened to be unlucky enough to cross his path.”

The innkeeper followed Ye Jiuyao’s gaze toward the young lord’s robes—spotless, not a speck of dust, despite the bustling crowd and even the cleanest floors. It was impossible. Clearly, as Ye Jiuyao said, the young master was looking for someone to vent his temper on.

And Ye Jiuyao had simply been unlucky enough to be chosen as his target.

“Scoundrel, what did you say?” the young lord exploded, rising to his feet and pointing furiously at Ye Jiuyao.

Many in the inn now turned to watch, some with obvious sympathy for Ye Jiuyao, clearly familiar with this troublemaker.

“I don’t like people pointing at me,” Ye Jiuyao said coldly, his eyes glinting with a chill that fell directly upon the young lord.

The nobleman involuntarily shivered, as if frightened by Ye Jiuyao’s gaze. Still, he forced himself to speak.

“Boy, I am Ye Qi, an inner disciple of the Falling Leaf Sect, one of the three great sects of Xuantian Town. Ye Qing is my grandfather—how dare you treat me like this?!”

Ye Jiuyao simply responded with a dismissive “Oh,” and continued on his way out.

The innkeeper looked on with concern, hesitation clouding his face, but finally he offered a quiet warning.

“Young man, beware the wolves and tigers on the road.”