Chapter 565: Infiltrating the Sect?
After wrapping up the matter of gift-giving with Zhang Yu, Ciji Zhenjun inquired about his preparations for the Design Competition.
Ciji Zhenjun: What kind of piece are you planning to design? Any direction in mind?
Zhang Yu: Actually, I’m currently working with Senior Sister to scout junior college students…
He explained how he’d been gathering intelligence on junior college life, aiming to create a product tailored not just for junior college students, but even for those in lower secondary schools.
Listening to Zhang Yu, Ciji Zhenjun furrowed his brow slightly and replied:
Ciji Zhenjun: There’s definitely commercial potential.
But you must remember—there are no junior college students among the judges.
If your design leans too heavily into that niche, the judges might not appreciate it.
Zhang Yu: I understand.
From what I’ve seen, junior college students themselves aren’t fond of overly specialized designs. I’ll make the necessary adjustments.
Ciji Zhenjun: Just be sure you know what you’re doing.
Once you’ve completed the design diagram, send me a copy. I’ll help you review it.
Though the competition accepts only design diagrams, having a physical prototype greatly increases your chances. It’ll make a real impression on the judges.
Of course, that requires solid alchemical skill. If you can’t refine a quality product after designing it, don’t bother sending one.
With Ciji Zhenjun’s guidance, Zhang Yu gained a clearer understanding of what it truly took to stand out in the Design Competition.
Over the next few days, more and more daily videos from junior college students poured into Zhang Yu’s inbox.
As Taiqing Jing accelerated, a flood of raw footage unfolded before him—everyday life at junior colleges, laid bare.
Shattered earth. Collapsed classrooms. Ruined campuses—Zhang Yu could barely believe he wasn’t staring at a war zone.
Even worse, from the eye armor perspective of one student, he witnessed a flying sword streaking down from the sky, aimed straight at their school.
According to the students, such thunderous flying sword strikes were routine—frequent enough that they’d learned to dive into underground shelters the moment they heard the sound.
“Junior colleges are being hit this hard by war?” Zhang Yu couldn’t help but recall his past civil engineering projects at such institutions. “It’s far worse than before.”
Beyond the constant threat of war, Zhang Yu also saw the lasting financial scars left by Hua Shen Du Fa—half-demolished teaching buildings, school grounds seized for factories, dormitories torn down without warning.
And beneath the shadow of war, the spread of Demon Sect influence grew ever more rampant.
Though Zhang Yu never saw a single Demon Sect disciple in person, the constant stream of anti-Demon Sect propaganda, inspections, and advertisements in the students’ footage made the tension palpable.
He’d seen junior college students stopped on the street for sudden checks—especially during work hours or class time—accused on suspicion of being sect members.
Rumors of factory attacks causing production halts spread constantly. Some blamed rival schools. Others claimed it was Demon Sect disciples seeking rest. The noise was so thick, truth was buried beneath it all.
War. Demon Sects. Financial collapse.
These forces combined had pushed junior college students to their breaking point.
“Medicine prices are up again.”
“Sigh… the principal said the pharmaceutical factory must prioritize the top-tier corporations first. Our school’s medicinal agents will be cut.”
Top-tier corporations… Zhang Yu had heard whispers about them before.
Headquartered on Kunxu Layers 7 to 10, these massive enterprises served the Top Ten Sects on a massive scale. In some ways, their influence even surpassed that of the Top Ten universities.
Compared to ordinary companies, they operated on an entirely different level.
While their primary mission was serving the sects, in the process, they inevitably impacted Kunxu Layers 1 to 6.
Though their main offices were in the upper layers, they maintained countless subsidiaries in the lower ones—handling import-export trade, local business ventures, and more.
If their first goal was serving the sects, their second was relentless profit—accumulating resources, producing goods, and expanding their reach. Only by growing strong could they fulfill their primary duty.
As Zhang Yu flipped through the final video of the day, he saw a student named Shui Haiyu from Shanhai Vocational University, a junior college under Wanfa University.
In the video, he stood excitedly at a club registration booth.
“Hello? Is this the Mutual Cultivation Society?”
“Can it really boost your grades?”
“Alright, I’m in.”
—
By late March, Zhang Yu stared at his account balance and sighed.
“Ah… over a hundred Lingbi gone.”
Not long ago, Ciji Zhenjun had brought him to a guest room in the Ling Realm to meet several judges personally, handing each a carefully prepared Lingbi gift.
Thankfully, Zhang Yu’s monthly income was substantial. The loss of 100 Lingbi didn’t disrupt his alchemical plans.
The entire process had been swift, smooth, and almost mechanical—just meet the person, introduce yourself, hand over the money.
Zhang Yu even began to suspect the judges weren’t real Yuan Ying Immortals at all—maybe they were just Artifact Spirits assigned to receive bribes, their movements so routine it felt rehearsed.
“I wonder how many contestants have paid them this year.”
“If ten or more did, each judge would be getting hundreds of Lingbi.”
The thought made him envious—how easy it seemed for them to profit.
But he quickly shook off the thought and refocused on the experiment platform.
Today marked the official start of Zhang Yu’s Refining of the Tai Hao Sheng Lu Jian Zhen—military-grade spirit artifact.
Composed of twelve flying swords arranged in a formation, this artifact combined advanced flying sword technology with intricate array mechanics.
Without the Feather Scroll’s aid, and without the acceleration from Taiqing Jing and his alchemical genius, Zhang Yu might have spent a full year just preparing to begin.
But now, thanks to his relentless practice, every prerequisite spirit artifact diagram had been refined to the 20th level. The techniques of the Tai Hao Sheng Lu Jian Zhen were now deeply embedded in his mind.
“First, the first flying sword.”
Zhang Yu planned to begin with the first sword, then refine each of the remaining eleven to the 20th level—once he mastered the 20th level, the rest would be far simpler.
He channeled his martial energy, igniting a true flame within his control. On the experiment platform, the high-quality sword core material, purchased and ready, glowed under the electric pulses of the alchemy equipment.
On the other side, Grade Three Spirit Energy—cleaned and purified by his assistants—was drawn into the workspace.
Spirit Energy had levels, too. After refinement and purification, it played crucial roles in spellcasting and alchemy.
But Zhang Yu didn’t have time for such labor—Zi Wen Zhen and Su Yun Ni handled it all.
As the sword core unfolded before him, Zhang Yu began inscribing Ling Realm seals into it.
“The communication technology of the Tai Hao Sheng Lu Flying Sword is critical. It’s what enables the formation to transmit sword intent and cut through the Ling Realm.”
For days, Zhang Yu split his time between watching junior college students’ daily footage and diving deep into the refining of the Tai Hao Sheng Lu Flying Sword.
But one event that day would abruptly pull him from his work.
—
Anling Realm.
Fujie and Zhang Yu’s projected forms sat in chairs, facing the Thousand-Foot, Thousand-Hand Xi Shen.
“Oh? You want my help?”
“Hmph. I’ve helped you more than once already.”
“You repay me with vague intel, half-hearted promises—no real sincerity. Why should I help you again?”
Fujie had been quietly exchanging messages with the Evil Gods lately—gathering intelligence, tracking their current status, trends, and alliances.
Anling Realm’s security zone provided a rare neutral ground, allowing dialogue without immediate violence.
Their past collaborations had built a fragile trust.
Fujie was deeply interested in the Evil Gods’ plans and movements.
In turn, Xi Shen was intrigued by Fujie’s network at Wanfa University—her influence, her resources—and had repeatedly hinted he’d like her to join their cause.
But every time Fujie asked for details, Xi Shen would laugh and change the subject.
Yet through repeated exchanges, Xi Shen grew increasingly aware of Fujie’s depth—her casual mentions of Evil God Kings, her detailed knowledge of ancient secrets, her uncanny familiarity with forbidden lore.
Until now.
It felt like the time was right.
Xi Shen spoke, voice calm, eyes gleaming behind a thousand hands:
“Fujie, you’ve always wanted to know what we’re planning, haven’t you?”
Fujie and Zhang Yu both leaned forward, ears perked.
“To show goodwill, I’ll tell you a little more this time.”
“Our target? The reincarnations of powerful cultivators within the sects.”
Fujie’s heart skipped.
“Qiongjiang God?”
Xi Shen’s thousand eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement in their depths.
“Precisely. Qiongjiang God has secretly transferred cultivation levels for countless high-level cultivators. The number of Heavenly Human Five Taxes evaded? Astronomical.”
“The sect disciples involved could shake the Top Ten Sects. Even Immortals would frown.”
“But our goal? Not to expose the corruption for the sect’s sake.”
“No. We want to use Qiongjiang God as a key—to uncover the list of reincarnated masters… and the ledger of their illicit transfers, their tax evasion.”
Fujie’s breath caught.
“You’re planning to blackmail them? To infiltrate the sect?”
“You’re bold.”
“But you can’t do this alone.”
“There’s someone above you. A higher-tier Evil God, isn’t there?”
“And someone inside the sect—someone to assist you. Who is it?”
(End of Chapter)
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