Seeking Fortune and Avoiding Misfortune: Starting from the Celestial Master’s Mansion
Chapter 417: I don't like this group

Under the observation of the Zhou Heavenly Mirror of Jade Purity, both the Neo-Confucian Grand Scholars who stayed within the city and the generals who led their troops out were clearly presented before Lei Jun’s vision.

It somewhat resembled the Talismanic Daoist conferral rituals of ancient times, or even older oracle spirit techniques.

Yet it bore many distinctions.

That Ming Dynasty governor, having expended his own energy, now appeared quite weak—seemingly unable to engage in battle himself.

However, his cultivation level as a Neo-Confucian Grand Scholar at the Third Layer of the Eighth Heaven hadn’t declined.

It was more like a temporary depletion.

The general who had received the military order and gone out to suppress the rebellion appeared to have had his strength elevated to the Third Layer of the Eighth Heaven, but it looked unstable.

From Lei Jun’s insight and perception, this elevation was unsustainable.

The warriors under his command whose strength had also temporarily increased were in similar conditions.

During their campaign to suppress the rebellion and fight the enemy, it was apparent that although their cultivation had been forcibly elevated, their foundation and combat experience did not match their new realm.

The lead general at Eighth Heaven, Third Layer was clearly weaker than a true expert at that level.

To say it was like a toddler wielding a warhammer might be exaggerated, but there was clearly no ease or mastery in his actions.

Still, under such realm suppression, the army had enough advantage to control the battlefield.

Moreover, there were many others in his ranks in a similar condition.

With this collective power boost, they surged forward like a sweeping tide.

Among them were a few cultivators of other traditions.

Yet they appeared more focused on observing the changes in the Ming Dynasty martial cultivators than engaging in the conflict.

The rebel army was routed. The main leaders executed. The rest began scattering and fleeing.

Ordinarily, pursuing fleeing enemies would be an excellent opportunity to earn military merits. But instead, the Ming generals ordered their troops to regroup and reorganize.

The victory was swiftly reported back to the city.

Inside the city barracks, the Ming officials breathed a collective sigh of relief upon hearing the news.

From high above, Lei Jun, using the Zhou Heavenly Mirror, observed how the literary aura within the city began to shift.

A wisp of smoke-like essence appeared—not rising upward, but descending from the heavens and flowing back into the city.

The governor and his group of Neo-Confucian scholars saw the literary and scholarly qi around them begin to fill up again.

“All thanks to Your Excellency’s wise leadership and strategic foresight, we achieved today’s victory.” Everyone congratulated Governor Duan Cheng together.

Duan Cheng smiled and responded, “Not at all. The credit goes to His Majesty’s grace from above, the Grand Chancellor’s command from the center, and the dedication of our brave troops. You are all deserving of merit.”

Everyone praised Governor Duan for being humble in success and capable in command.

Someone quietly said, “Sir, though the main force of the rebels has been broken, remnants may still flee and regroup under other schemers. Our next step...?”

Duan Cheng replied, “The priority is to report back to Grand Chancellor Yuan. The reform he leads is a grand endeavor for generations to come. Once the reform succeeds, minor rebel factions will be crushed with ease and pose no further threat.”

Everyone responded in unison, “We obey the Governor’s command.”

Though Lei Jun could not hear them, his Zhou Heavenly Mirror revealed the scene clearly.

Still, it wasn’t hard for him to guess the minds of these Neo-Confucian elders of the Ming Dynasty:

Taking the battlefield themselves was far too dangerous.

Even without engaging in close combat like martial cultivators, it was still risky.

Especially when considering events like Chen Yu and Liu Chong entering Sumeru, or later Zeng Kui and Xi Zhichang venturing into Penglai, who were ambushed or encountered the unexpected. Surviving at all was already fortunate.

In total collapse, there would be no survivors—regardless of one's learning or position.

But now, it seemed a solution had been found.

As Confucian Commanders, they could sit safely behind the lines and give orders.

As the saying goes, “A true strategist wins from a thousand miles away.”

Let the warriors do the fighting.

Lei Jun observed that as the literary qi of Duan Cheng and the other scholars was replenished, the martial cultivators’ realms on the frontlines reverted to their original levels.

Perhaps the time limit had expired.

Perhaps Duan Cheng and the others had recalled the power.

Or both.

Although it wasn’t clear what methods Duan Cheng had used to prevent the enhanced martial cultivators from turning on them, Lei Jun was sure the issue hadn’t gone unaddressed.

Undoubtedly, many restrictions and contingencies had been implemented, and more would follow.

Had Lei Jun been in the Ming Mortal Realm, he could have directly observed the fluctuations in the kingdom’s fate and qi.

But the technique Duan Cheng and the others employed likely didn’t originate with him alone—it probably came from a higher-level Neo-Confucian Grand Scholar.

The Ming Dynasty’s current Grand Chancellor—Zhou Mingzhe, perhaps?

If the technique aimed not just at one region or a handful of individuals but at broader application, then even a Grand Scholar at the Perfection Stage of the Peace-Under-Heaven Realm wouldn’t be able to do it alone.

Neo-Confucian ritual norms were a top-down system, vast in scope and deep in structure.

Any systemic change would have to act upon that foundation.

Possibly due to the previous Great Qian Dynasty’s suppression of culture, the current Ming Dynasty's Neo-Confucianism aggressively suppressed all other Daoist traditions—with the greatest impact on martial cultivation.

Ming Dynasty martial cultivators, under this ritualistic sky, were more heavily restricted than Daoists, Buddhists, or shamans.

No wonder they were the first target.

Even so, systemic change remained difficult.

Even if not restructuring the entire framework, just adding to it was no small feat.

Disregarding intentions—for the technical merit alone—the scholar leading this transformation had astounding insight.

Lei Jun even suspected that a “Resplendent Tapestry” level of comprehension might not be enough to support such reform.

It was likely that this person’s insight in the Confucian Daoist tradition was equivalent to “Universe Within”, the Natural Insight level in the Daoist path.

But to apply such genius here…

As Lei Jun mused, he suddenly noticed someone in the frontlines secretly sending a message.

It was a mid-ranking general.

Had this happened before the battle, Lei Jun would’ve suspected collusion with the rebels.

But with the war now over, a Ming military officer still sending messages made Lei Jun suspicious.

Considering this person had just received a military decree that temporarily elevated his cultivation, Lei Jun figured the message likely pertained to the decree.

But the message was intercepted mid-flight.

A flying sword flashed through the sky and snatched the letter.

After the army returned to camp, the general wasn’t arrested outright to avoid alerting others, but someone began monitoring him closely.

Lei Jun watched calmly.

This unremarkable unit carried the hopes of senior court officials, testing the viability of reform in real combat.

The results, while imperfect, met expectations.

Still, some martial cultivators began to feel uneasy.

If this method worked, would high-realm warriors become obsolete?

Unfortunately for them, Duan Cheng and his peers had anticipated this concern.

Though the mid-ranking general hadn’t been apprehended, people had already begun investigating his associates.

Duan Cheng compiled all the reports and sent them in secret to the capital.

---

Capital of the Ming Dynasty.

Zhou Mingzhe’s residence.

Having succeeded Chen Yu as Grand Chancellor, Zhou silently read over the reports.

By his side stood Zeng Kui, recovering from injuries sustained in Penglai.

After reading, Zhou handed the documents to Zeng Kui.

Zeng read them and exhaled deeply. “Congratulations, Grand Chancellor. You’ve opened a new chapter for the Ming Dynasty and all its scholars.”

Zhou replied, “You flatter me, Elder Zeng. None of this would be possible without His Majesty’s grace and the support of wise men across all domains.”

Zeng Kui nodded. “With the disasters in Sumeru and Penglai behind us, they’ll not return again.”

“Wars should be won on the court, a thousand miles from the battlefield.”

Zhou said, “I’ve long entertained such thoughts, but progress has been slow. At last, a glimpse of form begins to show. Fortunately, for the Ming Dynasty, it’s not too late to mend the pen. Though many areas remain lacking, we can now refine and improve.”

Zeng glanced outside. “Daoist Masters Mo Daozhang and Wei Daozhang are also here today.”

Zhou said, “Indeed. Later, these reports will be shared with them too.”

Zeng was quiet for a moment.

Zhou added, “The reform must include Daoist insights. Stones from other mountains can polish jade.”

He stood with hands clasped behind him. “In a few years, with more scholars trained, the laws will mature, the system will stabilize, and we can proceed with deeper reform.”

Zeng rose with him. “So, the Buddhist sects remain untouched for now—to avoid stirring suspicion?”

Zhou nodded. “Daoism and Buddhism can both serve the Ming Dynasty. Especially while the White Lotus rebels remain at large, the key is proper control.”

Zeng said, “Han Qingtao has fallen, and Mu Chunyang is dead—Daoism should be easier to manage now.”

But Zhou didn’t respond—he simply fell into deep thought.

“Grand Chancellor?” Zeng asked.

Zhou finally said, “The Master of True Martial Monastery, Mu Chunyang... is he truly gone?”

Zeng was taken aback.

Zhou said nothing, pacing in silence.

As leader of the Chu Party, Zhou had long had close ties with True Martial Monastery due to regional affiliations.

He and Mu Chunyang had frequent contact.

Compared to the disruptive Han Qingtao, Zhou had always paid more attention to the quiet and unremarkable Mu Chunyang.

“If anyone in our Ming Dynasty was closest to pushing open the Celestial Gate,” Zhou murmured, “it would be Mu Chunyang.”

Zeng was shocked.

Zhou nodded. “Even with our flourishing culture, he might have been closer than Chancellor Chen before him. Now that reform is taking shape, I can perhaps match him.”

In other words—he had been half a step behind... Zeng thought.

Luckily, Ming civilization was at its height.

Under the order of Neo-Confucian ritual—no one could rebel.

Not to mention, Mu Chunyang cared deeply for True Martial Monastery’s legacy.

Zhou Mingzhe stood still, gazing at the tree branches outside the window. “These past few years, I’ve continued sending people to investigate Master Mu’s fate, but so far, we’ve yet to obtain conclusive information.”

Zeng Kui asked, “Has there been any recent movement from True Martial Monastery?”

Zhou Mingzhe replied, “None at the moment.”

Zeng Kui hesitated for a second, then stopped himself from speaking further.

Zhou Mingzhe smiled. “Perhaps I’m overthinking it.”

He then shifted the topic back. “Now that reform has begun to bear fruit, we must work quickly to refine the remaining imperfections and expand it further. With civil unrest spreading, it poses a threat to the nation’s stability—we must eliminate it as soon as possible.”

“You’re absolutely right, Grand Chancellor.”

After a slight pause, Zeng Kui asked, “Then what of Qingzhou, Grand Chancellor?”

Zhou Mingzhe responded, “It’s time to take action there.”

Qingzhou had become the region where the White Lotus Sect had gained the strongest foothold since their uprising. Numerous top-tier White Lotus experts were operating there, using it as a base to spread their influence across the Ming Dynasty.

In fact, most of the current rebel movements in other regions had ties to the White Lotus Sect.

Currently, the suppression efforts there were led on two fronts. One was the Bodhi Monastery, the Orthodox Buddhist Holy Land of the Ming Dynasty, long-time nemeses of the White Lotus Sect.

The other was the Ming Imperial Army.

In addition to the presence of senior court officials, Grand Academician Chao Feng was personally overseeing the campaign at the front.

It was also where the final group of high-realm martial cultivators of the Ming Dynasty had gathered.

After consecutive defeats at Sumeru and Penglai, heavy losses had already been incurred among notable ministers such as Chen Yu, Liu Chong, Gao Ming, and Xi Zhichang, not to mention the martial generals who had led troops in the field.

However, now that the reform had taken hold, the Ming Court no longer urgently needed support from outside traditions—especially martial cultivators.

Except...

“You mean the Palace?” Zeng Kui asked softly.

Zhou Mingzhe replied, “The Eunuch Faction is more of a hindrance than a help. To be fair, were it not for their eagerness for merit spoiling plans, the defeat at Sumeru might never have happened.

“But now, in order to implement the new system, we need His Majesty’s endorsement. With the nation already aflame, we can’t allow chaos in the Palace.

“Therefore, military spending elsewhere can be cut, but the Palace must instead receive additional funding.

“This is a temporary measure, of course. But we must remain vigilant. We can’t allow the eunuchs to disrupt the realm under the guise of His Majesty’s name.”

Zeng Kui said, “Your caution is justified, Grand Chancellor.”

After discussing a bit longer, Zeng Kui took his leave, escorted by the household staff.

Shortly after, a young official came to visit Zhou Mingzhe.

“Teacher.” The young man bowed respectfully.

Zhou Mingzhe smiled. “Qiaoshan, have you met with Daoist Mo and Daoist Wei yet?”

The young man, named Nie Song, respectfully replied, “Not yet. I wanted to hear your guidance first before going.”

Zhou Mingzhe smiled, “Very well, let’s go together.”

He stepped outside, with Nie Song following closely behind.

As he looked at his truly young new student, Zhou Mingzhe couldn’t help but feel a bit emotional.

He had served as the chief examiner in the most recent imperial examination.

According to the Ming Dynasty’s traditional system and Neo-Confucian ceremonial protocols, all students who made the honor roll were considered disciples of the Grand Examiner—meaning, his.

This kind of examination was one of the few times in a Neo-Confucian scholar’s life where success didn’t require years of grinding—so it wasn’t uncommon for prodigies to emerge.

However, once they entered officialdom, everything followed the rules again.

From what Zhou had gathered, Nie Song came from the Tianli school. His father, Nie Zhongjie, had played a key role in purging remnants of the Lesser Ming Court, earning his family a firm foothold in the dynasty.

Nie Zhongjie himself had not pursued the imperial examination path, but devoted himself to grooming the next generation.

His son from a second marriage, Nie Song, was the most outstanding of them all.

Not only did he top the metropolitan examination, he was later handpicked by the Ming Emperor as this year’s top scholar—a meteoric rise.

Even more striking, his academic mentor was none other than Grand Chancellor Zhou Mingzhe.

A smooth road lay ahead for Nie Song.

Zhou Mingzhe truly appreciated this new student.

Partly due to his excellence.

Partly because Nie Song reminded him of Xi Zhichang—his prized disciple who had died unexpectedly in Penglai.

That loss still weighed on Zhou Mingzhe.

Now, with reform beginning to take shape, Zhou recalled how he and Xi Zhichang had once discussed these ideas before Zhou rose to the position of Grand Chancellor.

Tragically, Xi Zhichang died before they could implement it.

If they had discovered this system earlier, Xi Zhichang might have survived.

Thinking of this, Zhou Mingzhe sighed inwardly.

Given Nie Zhongjie’s ties to Xi Zhichang, and the fact that Nie Song had now joined his tutelage, Zhou felt some comfort.

---

“Daoist Mo, Daoist Wei.”

Upon arrival, Zhou Mingzhe greeted Mo Qingshi of the Shushan Sect and Wei Jingyi of True Martial Monastery.

“Thank you both for your efforts these past days,” Zhou said.

Both Daoists respectfully replied they did not dare accept the praise.

Zhou turned to Wei Jingyi. “Fortunately, the ritual should be completed in the next few days, so it won’t delay your inauguration ceremony as the new Master of True Martial Monastery.”

Wei Jingyi replied, “I am unworthy and inexperienced, but will do my best not to disappoint His Majesty and the Grand Chancellor.”

“You’re too modest,” Zhou said.

He then turned to Mo Qingshi. “How are things in Shushan lately? The rebellion by Han Qingtao must never be repeated. I ask that you return and take a look.”

“Yes, Grand Chancellor,” Mo Qingshi replied.

---

Meanwhile, in Penglai, Lei Jun used the Zhou Heavenly Mirror to scan the Ming Realm.

While its range had limits, within the vast expanse of mountains and rivers, Lei could observe more and more instances similar to the one with Duan Cheng’s army.

Considering broader factors, the Ming Court’s implementation of the reform wasn’t rapid—but rather steady and methodical.

The more he observed, the more details Lei Jun could discern.

Overall, it was an immense ritual formation built atop the Neo-Confucian ceremonial structure of the Ming.

Due to the constraints of this formation, martial cultivators empowered through it were far more susceptible to the influence of Neo-Confucian orthodoxy.

They couldn’t easily turn on the scholars who had granted them power. They could barely harm other Neo-Confucian cultivators, either.

Just as in Confucian rites—between ruler and subject, father and son, teacher and student—once these hierarchies were established, the higher position could impose powerful suppression on the lower, within the grand system.

And retrieving the literary energy granted to martial cultivators? Effortless for the scholar.

Nothing is absolute, but to shake this system, one must first shake the entire Neo-Confucian ritual order of the Ming Dynasty.

In other words: the nation must fall, and chaos must reign.

Only then would the Neo-Confucian suppression of other Daoist traditions begin to loosen.

Currently in the Ming Realm, only one cultivation path among human cultivators remained unaffected by Neo-Confucian orthodoxy: the White Lotus Sect, notorious for rebellion.

Against them, all parties had to fight head-on. Neo-Confucian scholars held no advantage.

After watching for a while, Lei Jun suspected this setup traced back to the founding of the Ming Dynasty.

From that angle, Han Qingtao’s earlier ploy to seize the Void-Crossing Shuttle was quite the feat.

---

“Senior Brother, I have a question…”

It was Chu Kun, who had returned from the Ming Realm via Guizang and then journeyed to Penglai, asking:

“This massive ritual being developed by the Ming Neo-Confucian scholars—while quite clever—seems rather lacking in actual combat application, doesn’t it?”

Lei Jun understood what he meant. “Yes. Martial cultivators whose cultivation is temporarily elevated by literary energy will never compare to those who reached that level on their own.”

Such a structure worked fine against weaker opponents—but against equals or stronger enemies?

Another story entirely.

From the scholars’ perspective, sending in enhanced warriors instead of fighting personally may have kept them safe, but the outcome would be no different.

Unless the warriors were probing for ambushes, they’d fail just the same.

“So just… grind through by throwing people at the problem?” Chu Kun scratched his head. “Sounds more like something the Witch Sect or Ghost Dao would do.”

Lei Jun said, “Low- and mid-tier cultivators are always easier to mass-produce than high-realm experts. With savings from other areas, the court can funnel more resources into training more top-tier Neo-Confucian cultivators.

“Then, either through numbers or attrition, overwhelm the opposition.

“Of course, the Ming Court might improve the method or develop alternatives in the future.

“What’s already clear is that their internal hierarchical control has grown much stronger.

‘Among ten thousand trades, only reading is worthy’—this phrase is becoming more literal than ever.”

Chu Kun glanced over. “Senior Brother… your tone is rather cold.”

Lei Jun didn’t hide his views from him. “I really don’t like this group. But I’d like to see how the mortal realm itself reacts.”

Chu Kun understood.

Their Sect Master wasn’t fiery like Senior Sister Tang, nor completely hands-off like Senior Brother.

Otherwise, who knows what would’ve happened to the Five Great Surnames or the Li Clan of Xinzhou.

Now that Chu Kun, at the Eighth Heaven Realm, had arrived in Penglai to help sort through the ruins and explore various Immortal Islands, Lin Shan and other Tianshi Mansion disciples had it much easier.

---

Later, while Lei Jun was overseeing Penglai, a new guest arrived.

Because the guest was none other than Mu Chunyang, the Master of True Martial Monastery and a Ninth Heaven Realm cultivator from the Ming Realm, the current Sect Master Jiang Yu of the Pure Yang Palace personally came to meet him.

With Lei Jun present, Pure Yang Palace had no concerns about safety.

But Jiang Yu brought news from the Han Mortal Realm’s Pure Yang Palace:

Pan Hailin, a descendant of Mount Longhu, had reappeared.

And he had reached the Great Ascension Realm of the Talismanic Daoist Branch.

In recent years, the Han Mortal Realm had also begun to experience a surge of Heaven and Earth Spiritual Energy.

Pan Hailin, a famed prodigy of his generation, taking this step was impressive—but not surprising.

However...

“Senior Brother,” Chu Kun asked, “based on Mount Longhu’s tradition, doesn’t this mean he was granted further ordination by a Ninth-Heaven Daoist Ancestor?”

Lei Jun nodded lightly.