Chapter 235

It took the Celestial Master Hall a full two months and they still hadn’t finished sorting through that mountain-sized “material warehouse” that fell from the heavens. Meanwhile, the Xuanmen Academy had already welcomed its second batch of students.

Thanks to Yun Jiao’s ten-year development plan, this time not only the main academy opened its doors, but also the first, second, and third branch campuses—each located within one of the major sects.

After careful study, Yun Jiao discovered something: compared to the other two realms, the human realm had only one true advantage—population. Neither the celestial realm nor the underworld combined had even half as many people as the human world.

And population meant one thing—wealth.

This was a fantastical world—so why should cultivation be restricted only to Xuanmen disciples? After all, everyone (except her) possessed a Xuan meridian to some degree. Which meant that every human being was technically a potential cultivator. To strengthen the entire human realm, the foundation had to begin with education. Therefore, she believed cultivation training should not be limited to Xuanmen—it should evolve into a system of nationwide education.

In fact, sects had long been taking in talented children from the outside world, raising them as disciples from a young age. But recruitment had always been casual—based on “fate.” Choosing disciples mostly depended on whether the child “looked pleasing to the eye.” If both sides agreed, they’d simply take the child back to the sect.

Now, all Yun Jiao proposed was to formalize this process—to expand the scale of enrollment. It wasn’t difficult at all.

As for those who wanted to learn but had no way into a sect, her solution was simple: publish and distribute basic cultivation manuals that anyone could self-study. After mastering them, individuals could take examinations at the sects, and if they passed, they could join. Some might even qualify for the Xuanmen Academy and access advanced arts.

Surprisingly, when Yun Jiao proposed this, no one in the Xuanmen opposed her. On the contrary, everyone was ecstatic. They were more enthusiastic about opening new academies than she was! Sect leaders even volunteered to hold a second round of teacher qualification exams, recommending their best disciples from each class to participate—and they even prepared the exam papers themselves.

At first, Yun Jiao worried about whether this would increase the sects’ operational costs. After all, more students meant greater expenses. She thought of her own disciples and knew—raising them wasn’t cheap.

Until… sect leaders began occasionally sending her mysterious bags of silver.

When she inquired, she learned that these were royalties—profits from the sale of the introductory cultivation textbooks she had written.

A few of the basic textbooks and illustrated guides she and the old man had drafted for early education—simple manuals designed to promote basic Xuanmen knowledge among the public—had been printed and sold by the sects. None of them expected profits; they only wanted to support education.

But to everyone’s astonishment, those books became bestsellers. Sects printed hundreds of thousands of copies and distributed them across towns and cities. They weren’t even expensive—just a few silver coins per copy—but they sold over a million copies, even driving up the price of paper!

The sects had made a fortune—far more than they ever expected. Feeling embarrassed to keep it all, they sent a share of the earnings to Yun Jiao and the old man.

After calculating the total, Yun Jiao realized that this “bonus” was dozens of times more than what she’d earned from years of running schools and training programs combined.

She and the old man were utterly stunned by the windfall—so much so that they nearly abandoned their cultivation paths to become full-time authors. One could only imagine how obscenely wealthy the sects that published ten or more books each had become!

At first, Yun Jiao couldn’t understand how the books became so wildly popular.

Yes, Xuanmen was flourishing, but ordinary people still lived far less comfortably than those in her previous modern world. Their daily lives were good—better than ancient history had recorded—but surely not everyone would go out and buy her books, right? Many couldn’t even read.

But then she thought again—and it made sense.

These textbooks were like dictionaries—even if not everyone could read every word, anyone who wanted to learn would still buy a copy.

And once the people had their “dictionary,” promoting other forms of Xuanmen study became much easier. Besides, most of the basic cultivation techniques, such as Qi-guiding methods, could be self-taught from these simple manuals. Only advanced techniques truly required sect instruction.

Soon, streets and marketplaces across the human realm were filled with these introductory guides.

This massive educational movement even gave rise to new professions:

—The ink, brush, paper, and inkstone industries boomed.

—Every town started hosting “Cultivation Prep Classes,” run by freelance cultivators. They specialized in teaching foundational theory—with a guaranteed admission into a sect or your money back!

Yun Jiao was deeply moved by humanity’s newfound enthusiasm for learning. Xuanmen disciples were now increasing at an unprecedented rate, pushing her vision of nationwide education forward faster than she could have dreamed.

She even began to look forward to seeing what the human world would look like ten years from now. Smiling, she was already thinking about drafting a few more exam papers.

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“Master Yun, here we are,” Hall Master Xu said seriously, stopping in front of a lush, green meadow.

The elders behind him also stopped, looking equally grim.

Yun Jiao blinked, puzzled, then turned her gaze toward the grass before them. Hall Master Xu had sent an urgent message early that morning saying something serious had happened at the Celestial Master Hall, so she’d rushed over through the teleportation array.

But instead of a crisis, they had brought her to… a meadow.

She scanned the area, frowning slightly. “What’s so unusual about—”

She broke off mid-sentence, her eyes catching on a single vibrant green plant growing in the center of the field. “A celestial plant!”

She hadn’t noticed it at first glance, but now she could clearly sense the faint immortal aura emanating from it. The energy was weak—almost imperceptible—but unmistakable.

The plant looked perfectly ordinary except for its color—brighter, crisper green than the surrounding weeds. Yun Jiao stepped closer, focused her senses, and confirmed: it was indeed a celestial plant. But… why was there one here?

When they heard her confirm it aloud, the expressions of the elders grew even more serious. One of them asked nervously, “Master Yun, is it truly a celestial plant?”

“It is,” she said firmly with a nod.

The group exchanged uneasy glances. Then Chief Elder Jiao couldn’t help but ask, “Master Yun, can you tell… what kind of plot the celestial realm might be hatching?”

“…Huh?” Yun Jiao blinked.

What did that even mean?

(⊙_⊙)

(End of Chapter)