Chapter 100 — The Seven Volumes of the Book of Creation
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 4
Shen Mu returned to the inn and went on poring over the Great Nurturing Nether-Demon Scripture, and before he knew it the night had deepened. He had already learned more than ten spells, but having no matching cultivation arts to go with them, he could draw out only the greater part of their power.
"I must find a grand unified cultivation art," he said, "or I will never bring out the full might of the Great Nurturing Nether-Demon Scripture.
" He was deep in his reading when suddenly he felt a warmth at his waist, as though something were nuzzling and burrowing against him; he looked down, and there was the little white fox, asleep at his side, rubbing its head against him in its dreams. Shen Mu smiled.
Carefully he carried the little fox-spirit to the bed and laid her down with her head upon the pillow, then went back to the table and continued to fathom the Scripture. A long while passed, and drowsiness came over him; he put out the lamp, stretched himself out upon the bed, and unwittingly sank into a deep sleep.
The next morning Feng Xiuyun came to see him aboard the ship.
"Young master, this is as far as I may escort you. Follow the river downstream from here and you will enter Jingping. Take care on the road, young master; reach the capital of Jingping as soon as you can, for the Patriarch is already waiting there.
" Shen Mu nodded and waved farewell.
Ahead of the fleet, upon a tall wharf, soldiers were turning capstans, creaking and groaning as they raised a massive iron sluice gate. One merchant ship after another got slowly under way, carried by the current out of Mishui Pass and down the Yong River.
Shen Mu and Snowfox stood at the bow and looked about them. The scenery on either bank of the Yong River was gradually changing from that of the Wasteland: here there were prosperous villages along the water, hidden among the hills and woods, not like the Wasteland, which was all thatched huts. Boats on the river grew more numerous as well, most of them ore-hauling vessels sitting deep in the water; along the banks were mines, where countless mine slaves dug at the rock.
"How many of these are the Wasteland's cast-off people? " Shen Mu withdrew his gaze.
After another hundred li or so, smelting works appeared along the bank, where great blast furnaces refined ore, and many boats lay moored there, unloading their minerals.
The furnaces threw up flames tens of zhang high, fierce and violent; as the boats passed, Shen Mu saw a dozen or more divine-power practitioners working the bellows, casting spells to make the flames fiercer and the heat higher. Others were using spells to draw up river water to cool the refined dark iron and red copper.
Still others wielded the aura of the White Tiger to cut the dark iron and red copper into neat square blocks, easy to stack and load aboard. Such a sight was not to be seen in the Wasteland.
"In manpower, in resources, in wealth, Jingping far surpasses the Wasteland," Shen Mu said in admiration.
From small things one may know great ones; the prosperity and strength of a nation can be read in its least details. The smelting works along the Yong River stood close to water, with easy transport, and could supply the empire endlessly with materials, forge primal armaments, and improve the army's equipment; one could well imagine the heights that the military and national power of Jingping had reached.
"Feng Xiuyun said that certain sects, seizing the moment when the Imperial Preceptor of Jingping was defeated in the Wasteland, ambushed him on the road, leaving him gravely wounded, and rose in rebellion.
" Shen Mu thought: "The Imperial Preceptor of Jingping may have suffered a setback at the Wasteland's edge, but the army's vital strength is unharmed and its overall fighting power remains.