Sumi Valley

They had been sent back earlier, so naturally they did not have any land they could till themselves. Did that not mean they would be unable to go out to absorb spiritual energy for cultivation from now on?

The small number of spy cultivators who held no land tillage rights secretly thought to themselves, wishing that the headquarters would send people over soon to wipe this place out.

On top of that, Yuan Jinsheng had shared another piece of news with them.

As long as the quality and quantity of the spirit grain they produced each quarter met the standards, merchants would be arranged to come in, so that they could do their shopping.

These spy cultivators did not react too strongly to the news of incoming merchants, though they were happy enough about it. They did not think there would be anything particularly worth buying in this mortal realm, but it would still be nice to get some supplementary items like pills.

Some others, however, started turning ideas over in their minds.

If outsiders were coming in, that would mean they could make contact with people from the outside world, right? Then would there not be a chance to smuggle messages out, and maybe even find a way to get those outsiders to carry word back to the immortal cultivation realm...

A number of spy cultivators quietly began hatching their little schemes.

What they did not know was that the City Lord's Manor had already held meetings to discuss this matter, and would definitely impose strict checks on this aspect going forward.

Xiushui City was developing and improving at a rapid pace across every area.

It was like a rising new star, shining bright in the mortal realm.

The exact center of the mortal realm did not belong to any of the kingdoms. It was an unclaimed, no-man's land.

Its outer reaches were covered in stretches of tangled, miasma-choked dense forests, and at its very heart lay a massive valley, the interior of which was shrouded in white mist, leaving anyone completely unable to see what lay within.

This place should have been almost entirely untouched by human footprints, yet unexpectedly, many simple thatched huts and earthen houses had sprung up along the edge of the valley.

These huts and houses circled the valley, and one tall stone structure stood out prominently at their center.

The glow of the rising sun slowly spilled over the entire valley, and quite a few people moved back and forth between the huts, each carrying stacks of bamboo slips to deliver to that stone building.

Many others sat quietly inside the huts, holding carving knives and bending over the materials on their desks, completely focused on their work.

As the sun fully cleared the horizon, a clear whistle cut through the air, and a flock of birds came flying in from the distance.

Looking closely, these birds were not even of the same species. There were crows, swallows, sparrows, pigeons, wild geese, and all sorts of other common, ordinary birds. Yet they had merged into a single long line and were flying together, a sight no one had ever witnessed before.

The flock of birds circled once over the valley before gathering above the very top of that stone building.

From a distance, the roof of the structure looked like a regular flat top, but up close, it was covered in tiny separate compartments. The birds landed in neat rows on the roof, each settling onto its own small compartment.

Then they all leaned down and opened their beaks over a small hole beneath them.

A glowing light ball slipped out from each bird's mouth, fell through the holes, and vanished from sight.

With another sharp whistle, the birds seemed to answer some unseen call, and all flew off toward a nearby thatched hut.

A person in a white robe with their head covered by a hood stepped out of the hut, carrying a large basket in their hand. They reached into the basket, grabbed a handful of something, and scattered it forcefully out across the surrounding area.

The birds flying over alighted in perfect order, and began pecking at the food on the ground with great energy.

"Father, Father!"

A young man clad in the same white robes came running from the distance, calling out to the middle-aged man who was feeding the birds.

At the sound of his voice, the middle-aged man turned his head. He noticed that the hood that was supposed to sit on the youth's head had slipped back as he ran, and his brows drew together in a slight frown. When the youth reached him, still huffing for breath, the middle-aged man chided him in a calm, even tone, "Straighten your attire."

The young man quickly stood still and pulled his hood back into place. His eyes shone bright as he said to the middle-aged man, "Father, Xiushui City is so fascinating!"

The middle-aged man turned back to continue feeding the birds, his tone remaining flat. "That is no excuse for you to record exaggerated, flowery words. Wuguang, if you ever again write such overblown language in the historical records, you will be expelled from the clan, and you will no longer be permitted to stay in Sumeru Valley."

The youth named Wuguang hung his head and admitted his mistake. "I understand, Father. I will not do it again."

Wuguang squatted down and stroked a crow that was feeding nearby. His mood bounced back remarkably quickly. After just a few breaths' time, he lifted his head again, cheerful once more, and asked the middle-aged man, "Father, can I join the next World Observation mission?"

The middle-aged man scattered the last of the bird feed in his hands. He looked down at Wuguang, and spoke in his usual quiet, unemotional tone. "Those who undertake the World Observation must have a righteous heart, and be free of personal sentiment. Only then can they view the world with a clear eye, and record history properly." He gave Wuguang a small, slow shake of his head. "You cannot do this. You are not qualified to join the World Observation."

At those words, Wuguang's spirits immediately fell. "But I so badly want to see Xiushui City with my own eyes, and the Lingxian Sect too."

The middle-aged man ignored him, turning to walk into the thatched cottage behind him to set down the basket that had held the bird feed.

When he stepped back outside, Wuguang was still squatting on the ground, silently stroking the crow beside him. The middle-aged man said nothing more, and turned to head toward the stone building ahead.

Stepping inside that stone building, one would find that the space within was far larger than it appeared to be from outside. Rows upon rows of bamboo slips, each filled to the brim with writing, were arranged neatly across the room.

There was a dedicated section holding ten desks, and at that moment, nine people were seated at their respective desks, fully focused on proofreading the content on the bamboo slips before them.

The middle-aged man walked over to the only empty desk, sank down to sit on his heels in a perfectly proper, formal posture.

In the bamboo basket to his left lay many discarded fragments of bamboo slips, most of them just a handful of broken strips. But resting at the very top was a full, intact discarded scroll.

The half-unrolled scroll bore faint, visible phrases: "Xiushui City emerges out of nowhere", "Lingxian Sect calls on all heroes to capture the secret spy", "Xiushui City leads the mortal realm into a new era", and other similar lines.

The middle-aged man glanced at it, let out a soft sigh, and raised his hand to flip Wuguang's rejected scroll face down in the basket.

After that, he took out a brand new blank bamboo scroll, picked up the carving knife beside him, and began to rephrase and inscribe the latest news before him properly.

Wuguang had recently officially begun taking part in his clan's historical recording duties, but he had not been doing very well. His records were riddled with far too much subjective flair, far too much personal emotion and individual judgment. As his father, the middle-aged man could not help but feel a tinge of regret.

Their Sumeru Clan had been born and raised in Sumeru Valley for generations, taking it as their sacred duty to record the history of the world.

For generations, the clan had demanded that all its members be upright, impartial, and free of personal bias.

This "emotionless" is not the same as the usual sense of being unfeeling. It only requires clansmen to set aside their personal subjective sentiments toward matters outside their clan, as such biases would compromise their impartiality when making records. There are no restrictions placed on their own personal joys, sorrows, or any other individual emotions.