'Wang Shan? Robber Cultivators?'
'They're back again?'
Qi Ping's brow furrowed at the news. This wasn't the first time such threats had appeared. In recent years, Robber Cultivators had been raiding periodically, specifically targeting rogue cultivators.
Even more bizarre was the behavior of the Qingyuan Sect. It was as if they were blind; they only sent people to suppress the violence when things became truly chaotic. This was unheard of in the past!
A few years ago, the Qingyuan Domain was well-governed. Agriculture, livestock, and trade flourished. Qingshi County was a prime example, known for its Black Little Bees, Golden-Feathered Chickens, and Spirit-Condensing Fruits. The Qingyuan Sect collected massive amounts of spirit stone taxes from this prosperity.
When Qi Ping first arrived, he was stunned by the order and safety of the region. It was far removed from the lawless cultivation worlds depicted in novels. Low-level cultivators had it hard, but they could make a decent living by farming or bee-keeping. Old Man Zhou had lived most of his life that way—without much strife, enjoying his days.
Unless there was a plague or a beast tide, life was good. Those disasters could wipe out years of investment, but they were infrequent. Overall, one could survive and even profit during a good harvest.
But three years ago, everything changed.
The Robber Cultivators appeared. They began plundering the wealth of the bottom-tier rogue cultivators. Not only were years of hard work stolen in a single night, but many also lost their lives.
Initially, people were worried but hopeful. They believed the Qingyuan Sect would surely capture and execute the bandits to restore order. They couldn't imagine the sect allowing bandits to run rampant in their own backyard.
At first, the sect did act, sending disciples to patrol and issuing orders to maintain safety. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
But that relief didn't last. The sect soon withdrew the patrolling disciples! This situation had persisted for three years now. Without protection, the bandits became increasingly brazen. Yet, the rent and taxes collected by the sect did not decrease; in fact, they went up!
Resentment was boiling, but it changed nothing. No one knew why the sect was acting this way—was it internal trouble? External pressure? Rogue cultivators had no way of knowing; they were simply the meat on the chopping block.
When the sect wanted order, the rogues could eat a bit of meat. When the sect stopped caring, the rogues could only endure in silence. What could they do? Life had to go on.
Because of the massive number of rogue cultivators, those who were actually robbed were still a minority, so people slowly got used to the new reality. They just became more cautious. They began organizing their own alliances to face the danger together.
The man Old Man Zhou mentioned, Wang Shan—as well as Zhou and Qi Ping themselves—belonged to a rogue cultivator alliance called the [Fusheng Society]. (TN: 'Fusheng' carries the meaning of 'protecting life' and 'abundant prosperity').
The society was small, consisting of only a dozen or so people, and had been formed decades ago. It was a group of neighbors helping each other out. The name reflected the humble hopes of ordinary cultivators: deep fortune and thriving livestock.
Within the Fusheng Society, everyone was friendly and familiar. When Qi Ping's bees once escaped, the members had spent hours helping him find them.
Wang Shan was the steady elder brother of the group. He was an expert at raising First-Order Golden-Feathered Chickens, keeping dozens of them. Qi Ping remembered him as a meticulous, friendly, and kind man who spearheaded many of the society's activities.
"Don't worry, Old Man Zhou. You know me—I won't tell anyone but you."
Qi Ping patted his chest to reassure the old man.
"Good. You are careful by nature, so I'm usually not worried. But with so many bandits lately, we must be extra cautious!"
"It doesn't matter for an old man like me with ten years left, but you are young, Little Qi. You must stay alive and make our bee-keeping business flourish."
Old Man Zhou's tone lightened at the end.
"Just relax! Your wine supply is guaranteed. Besides, I haven't even married a wife yet," Qi Ping joked.
"You youngsters... your minds are always on that! Fine, I'm going to sleep. Don't bother me unless it's important."
With a stretch, the old man returned to his lazy state. He strolled back into the courtyard with a leisurely pace.
Since the cause of the bees' distress—the Golden Marrow Bees—had been contracted, the problem was effectively solved. How to handle the transition was something Qi Ping could figure out; the old man was too lazy to fuss over it.
Moreover, now that Qi Ping had the bees for protection, he was safer than most. If he met an enemy even the swarm couldn't defeat, the old man wouldn't be able to help anyway.
With that thought, Old Man Zhou reclaimed his carefree mindset. bandits or not, life and death were up to fate. If he lived longer, he'd enjoy more; if not, so be it.
He popped a piece of fruit into his mouth and settled into his purple bamboo chair. Within moments, his snores filled the air. Nothing could trouble his heart!
Qi Ping watched the old man's retreating figure, feeling both amused and touched. One moment the man was shocked enough to drop his jaw, and the next he was back to being a lazy immortal. Living with such open-mindedness was a skill in itself.
"But it's not time for me to 'rot' yet!"
He had just awakened his profession and contracted the bees; his spirit was high. How could he slack off?
"First, I'll tell the Black Little Bees the problem is solved so they can stop worrying. After that... I'll start refining the Golden Marrow Honey to raise my cultivation as quickly as possible!"