Chapter 89
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Chapter 89: Title
"Have you finished reviewing the materials?"
Tang Tong reclined in her chair, her foot planted firmly against Lin Jing’s desk, her tone sharp.
"Nearly done. The textbooks are adequate. How’s your personnel training progressing?"
In Zhongxia, excluding ancient practitioners and spirit cultivators, only several hundred self-trained practitioners remained after the Awakening of Spiritual Energy – elite individuals each exceeding Tier Two in cultivation.
This didn’t imply the absence of other practitioners. Many gifted souls advanced swiftly post-Awakening, while those with extraordinary encounters began at higher tiers. Yet according to Special Bureau statistics, nearly ten thousand lingered below Tier Two.
Ten thousand might seem substantial, but scattered nationwide, the number grew sparse. Most hovered at Tier One or second rank, inferior to rigorously trained military personnel.
The selected four hundred Tier Two practitioners had undergone rigorous Special Bureau training programs. Guided by ancient practitioners, they’d acquired sufficient foundational knowledge to instruct beginners – though excellence wasn’t expected.
Assigned to provincial schools, these overstretched resources forced every individual to perform tenfold duties.
Yet optimism prevailed. The Special Bureau projected increasing Spiritual Energy concentrations through urban spiritual plant cultivation initiatives. Within six to twelve months, the teacher shortage for basic Spiritual Practice courses would ease. Even current preparatory extraordinary individuals might reach Tier One with sufficient talent.
All beginnings challenge. Initial shortages of personnel and materials were expected.
"Compensate through benefits packages for now," said Tang Tong, Chief of Comprehensive Section 5, overseeing all cultivation affairs until the inaugural Spiritual Practice university’s completion. "Many spiritual items remain unusable below Tier One…"
"When will the university launch?"
"Earliest completion by next year’s first quarter."
The thousand-acre campus would be constructed in five phases, initial stage alone requiring massive investment exceeding hundreds of billions. This decade-long project aligned with the Awakening’s progression – a permanent institution destined to dominate Zhongxia’s first post-Awakening decades.
Special Bureau personnel whirled through endless tasks like spinning tops. Department chiefs managed cross-sector collaborations as routinely as daily meals.
Qiantang City, West Lake:
Taoist Priest Li Canghai stood beneath weeping willows, silk robes rippling as sunlight danced across the lake’s surface. Onlookers snapped phone photos but kept respectful distance – months of Spiritual Network campaigns having tempered public fervor into restrained admiration.
Society’s adaptation to the Awakening manifested in calm ghost encounters. With ghost messengers swiftly claiming souls, spectral sightings grew rare. Those appearing were likely vengeful spirits, leaving witnesses two choices: accept fate peacefully or alert the Spiritual Network’s extraordinary response teams.
Nearly a month had passed since the spirit cultivator affairs. Li Canghai had descended from mountain seclusion only during the abyssal creatures’ invasion. Now a cryptic call came – local spirit cultivators at West Lake sought audience.
For whom? The Taoist frowned. When had he ever associated with their kind?
Li Canghai had barely begun to decline when the staff member handling spirit cultivator affairs interjected, explaining how the local spirits were particularly obstinate and rarely engaged in dialogue. This recent request represented their first genuine overture.
The implication was clear: should Daoist Priest Li agree to assist, negotiations could proceed regarding West Lake’s native spirits – whether through formal recruitment by the Special Bureau or simple registration at their spirit cultivator department.
After brief consideration, Li Canghai acquiesced.
By afternoon, he’d boarded a flight to Qiantang City where representatives from the Special Bureau’s spirit cultivator division awaited him at the airport. Their subsequent meeting proved efficient – within hours they stood at West Lake’s misty shores.
"Daoist Priest Li, this way please," directed a uniformed youth gesturing toward an approaching skiff. "The waterside crowds necessitate discretion. Manifestations tend to… excite public curiosity."
Though the Awakening of Spiritual Energy had been publicly acknowledged for years, with myriad revelations circulating the Spiritual Network, the Special Bureau maintained its founding principles: discretion in operations, minimal disruption to civilian life.
The vessel they boarded mirrored ancient pleasure barges in craftsmanship – lacquered woodwork gleaming under the sun, cabin interiors adorned with antique furnishings. A weathered boatman manned the stern, propelling them across jade-green waters with practiced oar strokes.
As they glided across the lake, the accompanying agent remarked, "This replica was commissioned post-Awakening as a tourist attraction, though implementation stalled due to… aquatic residents. Hence the current boating moratorium."
Li Canghai’s thoughts drifted to his numerous West Lake visits, particularly the recent excursion with Yang Xingyu that spawned tabloid headlines. What connection could these submerged spirits possibly have with him?
Their craft soon reached the lake’s heart where crystalline waters reflected an elegant silhouette – a figure in flowing blue-white robes stood poised on a neighboring barge, long sword glinting at their side.
"Your method of summoning these spirits?" Li Canghai inquired, sensing no trace of demon power despite heightened awareness. Human cultivators radiated Spiritual Energy’s luminescent aura, distinct from spiritkind’s shadowed emanations.
"Patience," the agent replied, producing a thumbnail-sized stone shimmering with viridescent light. Not true spiritual stone, but something… other.
"Imbued with demon power," Li Canghai observed.
"Precisely. The spirit’s instructions were explicit – cast this into the waters upon your arrival." The agent uncurled his fingers, letting the artifact plunge beneath mirrored surfaces.
"So multiple entities dwell below?"
"Two confirmed – piscine and serpentine."
The revelation stirred half-forgotten memories. Hadn’t Hu Mei and Yang Xingyu mentioned something during their last visit? And why did "fish and snake" resonate so strangely, like fragments of Madam White’s legend reforged?
Sixty heartbeats passed before turbulence fractured the lake’s calm. A geyser erupted, three-meter spray arcing skyward as something breached the surface. Li Canghai’s scabbard flashed upward, spiritual energy coalescing into a shimmering barrier mere instants before the deluge struck.
Amidst settling droplets floated an arm-length cyprinid, emerald scales glistening. Yet Li Canghai’s attention locked onto the crystalline node embedded in its brow – unmistakably housing a wisp of his own sword energy.
"Benefactor! Greetings!" The fish spirit’s voice bubbled with childlike enthusiasm, tail fin splashing excited circles.
Bewilderment creased Li Canghai’s features as he turned toward the agent, finding equal confusion mirrored there.
"Acquainted with this Fish Spirit, Daoist Priest?"
Records indicated speech-capable spirits required Tier One cultivation at minimum, warranting Bureau’s diplomatic protocols. Yet recognition eluded Li Canghai completely.
"Salvation came when your blade’s energy shattered the older Taoist’s barrier," the spirit insisted, detecting his skepticism. "Freed me from watery imprisonment!"
Comprehension dawned. "An accidental discharge during last visit’s skirmish. No deliberate rescue occurred."
"But consequence remains!" The fish undulated stubbornly. "Debts demand repayment!"
Before Li Canghai could protest further, argent brilliance pierced the waters. A serpentine form ascended in corkscrew spirals, alabaster scales catching sunlight like liquid mercury. The white snake’s obsidian eyes fixed unblinking on the daoist, its presence humming with ancient power.
"Our second resident," the agent murmured, awe tempering professional composure. "First visual confirmation – previously only rumored."
The serpent’s gaze held mysteries deeper than West Lake’s abyssal reaches, silent yet speaking volumes to the sword-bearing cultivator. Somewhere beneath still waters, forgotten threads of destiny began their inexorable weave.
