A month passed quietly.
The aftermath of the beast tide had gradually settled, and news from Phoenix Ridge Market spread throughout Cloud Mist Market almost daily.
The reconstruction had officially begun.
Various cultivation forces, merchant groups, rogue cultivators, and even hunting teams started migrating toward Phoenix Ridge.
After all, destruction often brought opportunity.
Entire districts had to be rebuilt.
Formation arrays needed to be repaired.
Alchemy pavilions required alchemists.
Weapon shops required refiners.
Markets needed merchants.
Even ordinary cultivators could profit from transporting materials between the two locations.
The flow of people became increasingly obvious with each passing day.
Among those who left was Shen Xiuyong.
Among those who left was Shen Xiuyong.
After the Phoenix Ridge Market was reclaimed, the Dandao Alliance began selecting candidates to oversee the rebuilding of its branch there.
Shen Xiuyong naturally became one of the recommended names.
Unlike combat cultivators whose strength determined most of their status, alchemists valued experience above almost everything else.
Age.
Knowledge.
Success rates.
Pill formulas.
Failure records.
These were things that accumulated over decades.
A talented young alchemist could surpass an elder in talent, but very few could surpass them in experience.
Shen Xiuyong had spent most of his life working within the Dandao Alliance.
His cultivation wasn't the highest.
His alchemy wasn't the strongest.
Yet his experience, qualifications, and understanding of alliance operations far exceeded most people.
Thus, after several recommendations, the Dandao Alliance formally offered him the position of Pavilion Chief for the newly rebuilt Phoenix Ridge Branch.
To many younger alchemists, it was considered a promotion.
To Shen Xiuyong, it was likely the final major position of his career.
After all, Phoenix Ridge Market possessed far greater potential than Cloud Mist Market.
Inside his cultivation room, Lin Sheng sat cross-legged while reading through reports gathered by the market.
His eyes moved calmly across the information.
The Chip silently organized everything.
Phoenix Ridge Market.
Spirit herb trade increasing.
Several new hunting teams established.
Foundation Establishment cultivators arriving.
Formation Masters being recruited.
Everything indicated one thing.
The market would likely become far more prosperous than before.
Naturally, Lin Sheng had considered relocating there.
The resources would be better.
The opportunities would be greater.
The surrounding mountain ranges also possessed higher-ranked resources.
Yet after careful consideration, he ultimately rejected the idea.
There was no need.
At least not now.
Closing the jade slip, Lin Sheng's expression became thoughtful.
Seven months.
That was all the time he had left.
Seven months before his mandatory family service period began.
Every newly advanced Xuan Gang expert within the Lin Family received one year of stabilization time after their breakthrough.
The purpose was simple.
Allow them to consolidate their realm.
Increase their combat power.
Adapt to their new strength.
After that—
They were expected to contribute.
No exceptions.
The family had spent resources nurturing them.
Naturally, it expected returns.
Various assignments existed.
Some were relatively safe.
Others were dangerous enough to kill even experienced Xuan Gang experts.
For example—
Guarding cultivation markets.
This was one of the most common assignments.
Market Guardians received stable salaries and relatively low risk.
As long as they didn't encounter a major beast tide or demonic invasion, the position was comfortable.
The downside was obvious.
Little freedom.
Every movement was monitored.
The second possibility involved resource supervision.
Spirit stone mines.
Rare ore veins.
Spirit herb plantations.
Such locations required experts capable of deterring thieves and rogue cultivators.
The rewards were better.
The danger was also higher.
The final possibility...
Lin Sheng's eyes narrowed slightly.
The battlefield.
The Provincial Battlefield.
Or as most cultivators called it—
The Meat Grinder.
Merely hearing the name was enough to make many cultivators change expression.
Because unlike market assignments or resource supervision, the battlefield possessed only one purpose.
War.
Many ordinary cultivators mistakenly believed the various provinces existed peacefully.
In reality, nothing could be further from the truth.
The Eastern Region alone contained countless races.
Humans.
Yao Beasts.
Spirit races.
Mountain tribes.
Demonic races.
And many others.
Most ordinary cultivators never encountered these forces because the higher powers stood at the forefront.
The Golden Core forces.
The Domain Lord families.
The large sects.
They formed a shield protecting the interior provinces.
Without them, countless races would flood into human territories.
Of course, the relationship between humans and yao beasts wasn't entirely hostile.
The situation was far more complicated.
The Yao Beast Race was simply too vast.
Even Golden Core powers couldn't eliminate them completely.
Entire mountain ranges belonged to yao beasts.
Ancient forests housed countless beast clans.
Some beast kings possessed intelligence comparable to humans.
Some even formed agreements with human cultivators.
After countless years of war, both sides eventually reached a compromise.
Human cultivators allowed certain yao beast territories to remain.
In exchange, large-scale invasions were prohibited.
That was one of the reasons cultivation markets like Cloud Mist Market and Phoenix Ridge Market existed.
To outsiders, they appeared to be trading hubs.
Places where cultivators purchased pills, weapons, talismans, and cultivation resources.
That was only half the truth.
The deeper purpose was balance.
Markets acted as buffer zones between human territories and yao beast territories.
The stationed Guardians ensured neither side crossed certain limits.
A controlled conflict.
A controlled ecosystem.
An arrangement that benefited both sides.
Naturally—
Not everyone obeyed the rules.
Thinking about this, Lin Sheng remembered the demonic cultivators from Phoenix Ridge.
His expression became cold.
Demonic cultivators.
The eternal source of instability.
Unlike ordinary cultivators who pursued longevity and strength through relatively stable methods, demonic cultivators sought shortcuts.
Blood sacrifices.
Soul refinement.
Corpse puppets.
Human cauldrons.
Forbidden techniques.
Methods hated by almost every force.
Yet despite constant suppression, they never disappeared.
The reason was simple.
Chaos benefited them.
A peaceful province was difficult to exploit.
A battlefield, however—
That was paradise.
Wars created corpses.
Corpses created opportunities.
Many demonic sects actively manipulated conflicts behind the scenes.
Provoking beast tides.
Instigating rebellions.
Assassinating important figures.
Anything that created chaos was useful.
Because of this, the Provincial Battlefields weren't simply wars between races.
They were battlefields involving countless hidden forces.
Humans.
Yao beasts.
Demonic cultivators.
Rogue experts.
Everyone participated.
And everyone died.
That was why cultivators called it the Meat Grinder.
Not because the battles were particularly spectacular.
But because of the casualty rate.
Foundation Establishment cultivators died there regularly.
Xuan Gang experts died there regularly.
Even Purple Palace experts occasionally fell.
The battlefield consumed lives endlessly.
Most people avoided it whenever possible.
Yet from the perspective of major powers, it remained necessary.
The Lin Family supported martial artists for precisely this reason.
It certainly wasn't out of kindness.
Lin Sheng had long since abandoned such naive thoughts.
Every investment required returns.
Every resource had a purpose.
Every action carried a reason.
The family invested heavily into martial artists because martial artists were efficient.
A Foundation Establishment cultivator required spiritual roots.
Talent.
Resources.
Pills.
Inheritance.
Various conditions.
A martial artist required far less.
Given enough resources, producing a Xuan Gang expert was considerably easier than producing a Foundation Establishment cultivator.
More importantly—
There were simply more candidates.
Most people lacked spiritual roots.
Only a small percentage possessed the qualifications to cultivate immortality.
Martial arts, however, possessed a much lower threshold.
As long as one possessed determination and talent, there was always a chance.
Thus, during large-scale conflicts, martial artists became an indispensable force.
Cheap.
Effective.
Replaceable.
The thought made Lin Sheng chuckle slightly.
If another martial artist heard such an evaluation, they would probably become furious.
Yet from the perspective of a major force, it was the truth.
The battlefield consumed experts.
The family needed replacements.
Martial artists filled that role perfectly.
Fortunately—
Lin Sheng wasn't worried.
In fact...
His situation was the exact opposite.
Most Xuan Gang experts prayed not to be assigned there.
Lin Sheng wanted it.
Very much.
The reason was simple.
Freedom.
The family's attention was becoming increasingly troublesome.
Ever since his breakthrough, various eyes had begun watching him.
The elders.
The stewards.
The hidden observers.
The Lin Family naturally valued geniuses.
Especially martial geniuses.
His current growth rate already bordered on abnormal.
The longer he remained inside family territory, the more difficult it would become to hide certain things.
The White Dwarf Visualization.
The Chip.
His Mental Field.
The Yang Jade Script.
The Ranked Spiritual Eye.
Any one of these secrets could create enormous problems if exposed.
He needed space.
He needed distance.
Most importantly—
He needed opportunities.
The battlefield offered all three.
Danger?
Naturally.
But danger and opportunity had always accompanied each other.
Resources accumulated rapidly on battlefields.
Merits.
Beast materials.
Rare treasures.
Secret inheritances.
Many famous experts throughout history rose precisely because of battlefield opportunities.
The risks were immense.
The rewards were equally immense.
More importantly—
Nobody would pay excessive attention to a Xuan Gang expert stationed there.
Countless people died every year.
Everyone focused on survival.
As long as he remained careful, the battlefield could become the perfect environment for growth.
Lin Sheng slowly stood.
Walking toward the window, he looked toward the distant horizon.
The setting sun painted the sky red.
For a moment, his thoughts drifted elsewhere.