Chapter 302: Descendants of the Dan Family, the Boy's Training

Qingfeng Prefecture, the southern provincial capital of the Zheng Kingdom, was once a thriving land. But ever since the regional warlords split power over a hundred years ago, constant wars had slowly worn it down. Some places had even turned into barren wastelands.

However, about thirty years ago, for reasons unknown, the once-weak Feng Dynasty suddenly rose under Emperor Xiao'an’s rule. It wiped out the Shenjing imperial court and unified the Zheng Kingdom.

As the former capital, Qingfeng Prefecture became one of the auxiliary capitals, in keeping with the customs of the new dynasty.

With the wars over and its new status as an auxiliary capital, Qingfeng Prefecture began to flourish. The city and the counties under it saw booming markets and busy streets full of people and carts again.

But villages around major cities still hadn’t recovered from the war’s long drain on population. Many remained desolate or filled with more women and children than strong men.

Sanyuan Township, Dan Residence.

In the main room of a three-entry courtyard.

"Your father, the official notice came down. They're enrolling Cong’er in the children's academy. If he does well at the one in the capital, he might even get to meet the emperor."

"I went back to my mother’s place yesterday and borrowed some silver. You should use it to grease the examiner’s palm, make sure Cong’er gets a good ranking."

A young, attractive woman approached a middle-aged scholar. She looked happy, a cheerful tone in her voice.

But the middle-aged scholar reacted like he'd been startled. He quickly stood up, waving his hands. "No! This isn’t a good idea. Cong’er’s still too young."

"Cong’er is already eight!"

The woman frowned, displeased. "Dan Changxin, I know you dote on him, but you can't keep him at your side forever. What, do you want Cong’er to be like you—never make it as a scholar his whole life?"

As she finished the last sentence, she felt her words were too harsh.

But she didn’t want to back down, so she just pressed her lips together and stared stubbornly at the scholar.

"My dear wife, it’s not that I can’t let Cong’er go. It’s just…" Dan Changxin looked anxious, pacing back and forth inside the room.

Finally, like he’d made up his mind, he gritted his teeth and leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

He spoke simply—things he’d seen during his years traveling and rumors he’d picked up from other scholars.

"What? Soul-devouring? Eating people alive?" The young woman turned pale, stunned and full of doubt.

She stood there frozen for a long time, whispering "we can’t let him go" over and over.

A full cup of tea’s time passed before she snapped out of it. Twisting her handkerchief with worry, she said, "What do we do now? The yamen runners came days ago and I already agreed to send Cong’er to the academy."

Dan Changxin’s face changed instantly. He shook with anger and slapped her across the face. "Why didn’t you tell me something this important?"

"You never told me about the demonic cultivators either! I figured getting Cong’er into school was a good thing!"

She shot back, out of habit.

As soon as the words fell, both of them wore expressions of deep regret. Neither knew what to do next.

"We’ll just have to have another child."

As night fell, Dan Changxin lit the oil lamp with a fire striker. His face looked worn as he glanced at his wife and let out a sigh.

The common people couldn’t fight the officials.

Officials wouldn’t dare go against cultivators.

And folks like them—ordinary nobodies—had no power at all against demonic cultivators.

If they resisted, the whole family would be killed.

"You’re a man! Are you really going to just watch your own son go to the capital and die?" The woman wiped her tears and cried out.

She knew she was being unfair, but she was desperate. She couldn’t help but fall back on her husband, Dan Changxin, hoping he’d find a way out.

Dan Changxin stayed silent. He walked outside, gazing at the moss-covered stone lock in the courtyard, now just a footstool. He looked over at the old stable turned woodshed, his face full of despair.

If he had been a martial man, when all else failed, he could’ve taken his family and escaped into the mountains, hidden away from the world.

But he was nothing more than a frail scholar—no strength in his shoulders or hands. He didn’t even have the courage to fight back.

"The Dan family used to pass down martial arts. Why did you, Great-Grandfather, give it up for literature?" Dan Changxin knelt inside the ancestral shrine, his face soaked in tears.

The genealogy clearly recorded the deeds of each generation of the Dan family.

Two hundred years ago, the Dan family had been a martial clan of Sanyuan Township. But during Great-Grandfather Dan Yangong’s generation, they switched to studying books.

"Brother Yangong was born weak. He couldn’t train in martial arts, so he chose to study literature instead."

Just then, a voice suddenly echoed through the shrine.

Dan Changxin jumped in shock.

He looked up and saw a bundle of incense burning on the altar. He didn’t know when it had been lit.

Next to the incense burner stood a man in blue robes, looking about twenty or thirty years old.

The man in the blue robe looked ordinary, like any common person, but his clothes were spotless and he carried a unique air of detachment, like someone from the heavens.

As Dan Changxin stood in shock, trying to figure out who he was, he suddenly recalled the words the man had just said—“Brother Yangong.”

One of his ancestors had been named Dan Yangong. That was the very great-grandfather he had just been mourning.

It was Dan Yangong who led the Dan family away from martial traditions and into a life of books and scholarship. Since then, no one in the family had trained in martial arts or competed in the martial exams.

"Senior, may I ask who you are?" Dan Changxin felt both surprised and excited. If this blue-robed man had known his great-grandfather, he must be one of the legendary immortals.

Otherwise, how could someone still appear so young while living for over two hundred years?

Whether he was a righteous cultivator or a demonic one, just calling his ancestor "Brother Yangong" proved he still held some sentiment toward the Dan family. Maybe he’d be willing to help them through this crisis.

"It’s better you don’t know my name. Otherwise, it’ll bring you nothing but trouble."

Wei Tu turned around. His eyes fell on Dan Changxin, and seeing how much he resembled the Dan Yangong of the past, he shook his head.

He wasn’t lying.

Right now, he was plagued with problems.

If the Dan family learned who he really was, it would bring them nothing but disaster.

He’d already offended two of the five major demonic sects—Hehuan Sect and the Heavenly Maiden Sect.

And the Zheng Kingdom was firmly under the control of the demonic path.

Hearing this, Dan Changxin’s earlier joy faded into gloom.

Just moments ago, he thought he’d found a lifeline. But this immortal had no interest in building any connection. He had rejected him outright.

But for the sake of his son’s life, Dan Changxin clenched his teeth and fell to his knees, pleading, "I beg the immortal to consider our ancestors’ bond and save my young son."

"What happened?" Wei Tu was surprised. He flicked his sleeve and gently lifted Dan Changxin with a wave of spiritual power.

Seeing this, Dan Changxin realized he had misunderstood Wei Tu. If he really wanted nothing to do with them, he would’ve already left coldly. But instead, he was calmly asking questions.

"I’ve heard that the children's academy in the capital isn’t really about educating bright kids from all over. It’s to offer them up to hidden demonic cultivators—who steal their souls and devour their spirits to power their cultivation..."

"Almost none of the kids who go in come back out alive. Most die young."

Dan Changxin told the truth.

"Slaughtering children for cultivation?" Wei Tu frowned. He had a strong feeling this wasn’t just a rumor.

The Magsha Sect, one of the five great demonic sects, was known for refining child corpses into undead puppets.

Besides them, the Myriad Spirits Sect also used children’s souls in their rituals. Children's souls were purer, and magic tools made from them were far more powerful.

Many demonic sects had used children in their cultivation methods, in one way or another.

‘Unlike the Jìng Kingdom, where cultivation and mortal life coexist in chaos, the five major demonic sects seem to have learned from its mistakes. They now support mortal dynasties and systematically exploit the people of the Zheng Kingdom,’ Wei Tu thought.

From what he knew, after over a hundred years under demonic rule, the population of the Jìng Kingdom had dropped to less than one-tenth of what it once was.

Some Jìng Kingdom families would rather have no children at all than raise them under demonic rule.

In one word—it was miserable.

Mortal kings might rob people of wealth or force them into labor, but even at their worst, there was still hope.

Demonic cultivators were different. They treated living people as raw materials for their cultivation.

"I understand. You don’t need to worry too much."

Wei Tu nodded slightly, giving Dan Changxin a clear answer.

Most demonic cultivators who used mortals this way were in the Qi Refinement stage.

Foundation Establishment and Golden Core cultivators aimed higher—Qi Refinement demonic cultivators were their real targets.

The souls, blood, and flesh of mortals were worthless to them.

To Wei Tu, getting rid of a few Qi Refinement demonic cultivators was nothing.

Of course, he wasn’t going to rush into the children’s academy and start killing whoever was behind it.

Sure, that would help Dan Changxin solve his immediate problem. But it would also draw even more trouble, endlessly.

Wei Tu preferred to use power to pressure others.

He’d find someone influential among the demonic sects to apply pressure on the ones behind the academy—and make them spare Dan Changxin’s son.

It wouldn’t fix everything, but solving this one matter was enough.

"Thank you, Immortal Master," Dan Changxin bowed again, this time deeply.

Wei Tu didn’t stop him.

But when Dan Changxin lifted his head again, the blue-robed man was gone.

Only the offering table remained.

And on it, there were now three books.

They were: Tiger and Crane Twin Form Fist, Marrow Refining Sutra, and Five Yuan Spirit Body Manual.

"What are these?" It had been over two hundred years. Dan Changxin didn’t recognize the martial and internal cultivation techniques once practiced by his ancestors.

He walked over, picked up the Tiger and Crane Twin Form Fist, and the more he read, the more excited he became.

"Martial arts! These are martial arts!" Dan Changxin’s face lit up with joy.

He made up his mind—he would have his young son study these three techniques.

So he wouldn’t grow up to be a useless man like him.