180: Chapter 179 News from the Divine Forging Sect

Yun Ming put down the newspaper, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

Although this gazette was clickbaity, its content was truly rich, covering everything from major court affairs to Immortal Sect developments, from Secret Realm explorations to market trends, and from gossip to new government decrees.

Back when he was in the Sect, where could he ever see such things?

Those large Sects were all so high and mighty, wishing they could lock their Disciples within the mountain gates, knowing nothing but how to Cultivate.

The Zifu Immortal Dynasty was different; it printed news directly into newspapers and sold them all over the streets, even allowing Mortals to read them.

This level of vision was just different.

He flipped through the back pages again and saw some practical information regarding market trends, Medicinal Pill prices, and coordinates for Secret Realms.

There were also advertisements: a certain Pill Pavilion had received a new batch of third-tier Medicinal Pills, a certain tool shop was having a sale, and a certain Spirit Beast firm was selling young Spirit Beasts.

There were even missing person notices, recruitment posts, and rentals for Immortal Caves.

Yun Ming read with great interest; this gazette was far more useful than he had imagined.

Just as he was engrossed in reading, the peddler, who hadn't left yet, stood smiling at the courtyard entrance. Seeing that Yun Ming was nearly finished, he spoke up again: "How is the gazette, Immortal Master?"

Yun Ming nodded: "It is good."

"Then would you like to subscribe for the long term?" The peddler's eyes lit up. "It only costs three hundred Low-Grade Spirit Stones for a year, which averages out to just twenty-five per month. We deliver to your doorstep, rain or shine, and never miss a day. Immortal Master, look, if you go buy one every day, it costs one Low-Grade Spirit Stone per copy, which is three hundred and sixty-five a year. If you subscribe, you can save over sixty stones; it's much cheaper!"

Without thinking, Yun Ming reached into his sleeve, pulled out thirty Mid-Grade Spirit Stones, and handed them to the peddler: "Subscribe for ten years."

The peddler's eyes went round as saucers. He took the Spirit Stones, his hands trembling: "Ten years? Immortal Master, you want to subscribe for ten years?"

"Ten years," Yun Ming said. "Saves me from having to find you to renew every year."

The peddler thanked him repeatedly, took a wooden plaque from his cart engraved with a serial number and address, and handed it to Yun Ming with both hands: "Immortal Master, this is your subscription receipt. Starting tomorrow, the gazette will be delivered to your doorstep promptly every morning. Ten years, without missing a single day!"

Yun Ming took the wooden plaque and nodded.

The peddler bowed and thanked him profusely before pushing his cart away, still muttering "ten years, ten years" as he walked off into the distance.

Yun Ming found it amusing, but he didn't regret it.

This amount of Spirit Stones was a drop in the bucket for him.

But this gazette allowed him to understand the situation in the Zifu Immortal Dynasty and know what was happening outside, so it was worth it.

He sat back down on the bamboo chair and read the gazette from beginning to end once more.

This time he read more carefully, looking not just at the headlines, but the content as well.

Beneath those exaggerated headlines, there was actually quite a bit of substantial information.

For example, the report about the Second Prince and the Xuantian Sect Saintess, although written like a storybook, mentioned the Second Prince's cultivation level, the Xuantian Sect's sphere of influence, and the possibility of a marriage alliance between the two parties—all useful information.

The piece about the ancient Secret Realm detailed the location of the realm, the Restrictions at the entrance, and which Sects had already sent people there.

The article about the Immortal Dynasty's decrees published the full text of the decrees, along with official interpretations.

Yun Ming flipped page by page, and when he reached the final page, his gaze suddenly stopped.

The last page was "Regional Briefs," with a small layout and small text, densely packed with over a dozen short news items.

Things like "Bountiful Spirit Medicine harvest in such-and-such place," "Small Spiritual Vein discovered in such-and-such location," and "Such-and-such Cultivator achieves Golden Core Breakthrough."

Yun Ming's gaze swept over these short messages and suddenly fixed on one of them.

That item was only two lines long, tucked away in the very corner of the page, and would be impossible to notice without looking carefully.

But Yun Ming saw it.

"Shenduan Sect, Xuanhuang Pill Mansion..."

Yun Ming turned the gazette over and over several times, confirming he hadn't misread it.

Those few lines were written very simply, without exaggerated headlines or sensational tone, just stating a few facts plainly.

The expansion of the Heavenly Demon Hall had failed.

The Zifu Immortal Dynasty had intervened.

The Shenduan Sect and Xuanhuang Pill Mansion would send people to thank the Immortal Dynasty.

That was all.

There were no details, no casualty numbers, and no descriptions of the battlefield, but Yun Ming read a lot into those few lines.

The failure of the expansion meant the front line had won, meant those Sects still struggling to hold on had defended themselves, and meant that those people from the Qingxuan Sect—those he knew, whose names he could call, those who had fought against the demonic Cultivators alongside him—had all survived.

He put down the gazette, leaned back in his chair, and gazed at the sky above, dyed red by the setting sun, lost in a daze for a long time.

Many images flashed through his mind.

The sight of Fu Qingyun wielding his sword with one hand, the way Fu Qingyun grinned, the quietness of Liu Ruyan leaning on Fu Qingyun's shoulder, the steadfastness of Han Song holding his iron staff without moving, and the Old Ancestor's aged, blood-stained face.

He thought these images had been buried deep in his memories, but they came surging back, clear and vivid, as if they had happened just yesterday.

It is good to be alive.

He suddenly thought of a question.

The Shenduan Sect and Xuanhuang Pill Mansion were sending people to thank the Zifu Immortal Dynasty; who would they send?

Would there be anyone he knew? Would there be those people from the Qingxuan Sect?

He shook his head, feeling he was overthinking it.

The capital of the Zifu Immortal Dynasty was in Tianyuan Province, an unknown number of thousands of miles away from Fengyin Province.

Even if the Shenduan Sect sent people, they would go to the capital; why would they come to a place like Qingyao City?

This was just an ordinary city in Fengyin Province, not the political center of the Immortal Dynasty, nor was it any strategic location.

Those envoys would not come here; he would not be able to see them.

But that didn't matter.

Knowing they were still alive was enough.

Yun Ming stood up and decided to go buy some food.

Qin Wan liked to eat fish, liked fresh vegetables, and liked soft, glutinous pastries.

He would go buy the best, to celebrate properly tonight.

He changed into clean clothes and went out.

Evening in Qingyao City was the liveliest time.

The sun had not yet completely set, with the last glimmer of light on the horizon, while the lanterns on the street were already lighting up one by one.

The vegetable vendors had not yet packed up; green vegetables, radishes, tofu, and fresh fish were laid out everywhere.

Yun Ming picked out a lively, jumping carp, bought some vegetables that Qin Wan loved, and also stopped by a pastry shop to buy a few pieces of osmanthus cake.

The osmanthus cakes were freshly made, warm and sweet; he couldn't help but taste one, then bought a few more to be wrapped up.

He carried the food as he walked back, his steps lighter than usual.

The candied hawthorn peddler at the alley entrance was still calling out, the woman next door was chatting with someone at her doorway, and children were chasing each other in the alley, their laughter crisp and clear.

He pushed open the courtyard gate and called out: "Mother, I'm home."

No one answered.

The courtyard was very quiet.

The chicks in the chicken coop were huddled in the corner, neither chirping nor moving.

The clothes on the drying line were gently swayed by the wind, making a faint rustling sound.

The kitchen door was closed, and there was no movement inside.

Yun Ming thought Qin Wan was sleeping in the room and didn't pay much attention to it.

He carried the food into the kitchen, put it down, washed his hands, and then walked toward Qin Wan's room.

The door was ajar.

He pushed the door open, and the setting sun shone in through the window, dyeing the entire room a warm orange.

Qin Wan was lying on the bed, covered by a quilt, her hands by her sides, her hair neatly arranged, and a faint smile on her face.

She was sleeping very peacefully, as if she had had a very, very long dream and had not yet woken up.

Yun Ming stood at the doorway and did not go in.

He suddenly didn't want to go in, didn't want to approach that bed, didn't want to see her face clearly.

He just stood there, his hand still resting on the doorframe, motionless.

Qin Wan was gone.