Immortality Starts With Face

The next week in Qingshan Town passed in a dizzying, exhilarating kaleidoscope of progress and problem-solving. The entire town, it seemed, was undergoing a metamorphosis, shedding its dusty, provincial skin and beginning to pulse with a new, vibrant energy – an energy fueled by the sudden, almost unbelievable influx of my gold and the ambitious projects it funded.

City Lord Zhang Wei, ensconced in the comfort and security of my estate, was making excellent – indeed, miraculous – progress with the Seven Heavens Meridian Reknitting Pills. Each day, his pallor lessened just a bit more, the light in his eyes grew stronger, and the oppressive aura of despair that had clung to him like a shroud began to lift, and to be replaced by a new vitality and an unadulterated sense of growing power.

He had sent a carefully worded message to his deputies in Qingshan, informing them that he was engaged in "vital, high-level negotiations with the esteemed Jiang family regarding unprecedented new investments and commercial opportunities for the City – opportunities that will significantly increase tax revenue and bring prosperity to all." It was a convenient, and not entirely untrue, cover story that kept the local bureaucrats placated and hopeful.

His deputies, however, soon reported a series of growing discontents and a few minor, but potentially disruptive, crises brewing within the town.

The first, perhaps not entirely unexpectedly, was a problem of inflation – or rather, not exactly inflation in the classic sense of too much gold chasing too few goods (though that, too, was a looming concern), but rather, an immediate, acute shortage of available silver and copper coinage. The vaults of Qingshan's five major money-changers – a heavily regulated industry requiring official charters and constant supervision from the City Lord's office to prevent tax embezzlement and counterfeiting – were simply… running dry.

Qingshan, with its roughly one hundred and fifty thousand souls, was, by and large, a poor town. Most of its populace lived hand-to-mouth, their daily transactions conducted in copper coins, with silver taels being considered a significant sum reserved for major purchases.

Gold coins? Pfft.

For the average laborer, farmer, or even skilled artisan who wasn't a Martial Artist or a Cultivator, a single gold coin was more wealth than they might see in an entire lifetime! My sudden, massive injection of gold into the local economy – paying my rapidly expanding workforce of construction crews, newly hired servants, guards, and the staff of my burgeoning businesses wages that were, by local standards, astronomical (two whole gold coins per day, even for unskilled labor!) – had made a small, but growing, percentage of the citizenry very wealthy, very quickly.

The problems were that there was precious little for them to spend this newfound gold on, and more pressingly, that the gold physically couldn't be exchanged for the silver and copper needed for everyday life. The money-changers, their reserves of smaller denominations dwindling rapidly, were imposing increasingly strict limits on any such exchanges. If the situation continued, it would soon lead to the absurd, economically disastrous result of people attempting to use whole gold coins to buy a few beef skewers from a street vendor or a measure of rice from the market.

We, thankfully, weren't quite there yet – but the trend was alarming nonetheless.

The solution, orchestrated through a series of swift directives from the eminent City Lord Zhang Wei (acting, of course, upon my "suggestions"), was decisive.

Permits were fast-tracked, allowing the Jiang family, through Jin Bao, to acquire – at very reasonable prices – all five of Qingshan's officially-sanctioned money-changing establishments. I naturally made a rather substantial prepayment of future taxes directly to Zhang Wei's office – a sum he assured me would be appropriately earmarked and reported to the Provincial Governor's office in Yuhang City, as meddling with currency exchange was a serious matter, even for a local City Lord.

With the "Jiang Exchange Houses" now firmly under my direct control, I then used the System, with Feng the Stump's now readily offered (if still somewhat bewildered) BQT 5-6 belief, to manifest vast quantities of copper and silver coins and taels, filling all vaults to the brim, and easing the immediate crisis. Mundane metals, devoid of any Qi, were – for all appearances – laughably easy for the System to conjure, with even a mortal being able to generate the required belief.

This, however, quickly led to an entirely new, if somewhat more amusing, problem: the sheer, inconvenient weight of all of that metal currency. My employees, and even the employees of the businesses they now frequently patronized, were being paid so much, that they were forced to lug around heavy, jingling bags of silver and copper wherever they went, making them prime targets for opportunistic thieves and generally hindering their ability to, well… do anything else.

My earlier, somewhat flippant promise that "my servants will have servants" was, in a very literal sense, coming true, as Jiang employees were now often hiring local boys just to carry around their money-bags.

My solution to this was, if I did say so myself, rather elegant, modern, and quintessentially corporate.

I decided to issue my own paper money!

Well, not "paper" exactly. Just as was the case with "real" cash from Earth, my own "Jiang Notes" were made of water-resistant fibrous fabric. They were a masterpiece of design and subtle System exploitation! I had the System manifest them from mundane, entirely non-spiritual (but extremely durable) spider silk, treated through a secret (and entirely fictitious) family process to achieve a pleasant texture.

They even came in different colors, for ease of identification by the largely illiterate populace: a rich, reddish-bronze for the copper denominations; a luminous, moonlight-white for silver; and a deep, regal gold-leaf-colored note for, well… gold.

Each note featured a rather dashing, artistically rendered portrait of yours truly on the front, as well as my signature, and the note's denomination in clear, bold numerals.

The reverse side was stamped, using an expensive, difficult-to-forge spirit ink (another belief-fueled manifestation, this one requiring the slightly higher base BQT of 2), with the Jiang family crest: a stylized, horizontal flowing river, representing adaptability, commerce, and prosperity, with three bright stars arching above it, symbolizing… well, nobody in the family really knew what they symbolized, but I had to admit that they looked suitably impressive!

The irony, which amused me greatly, was that these "Jiang Notes," due to the inclusion of the spirit ink and the complex, treated spider silk, were considered more intrinsically valuable by the System in terms of manifestation cost than actual gold coins! The exact opposite of the fiat currency of my old world, where paper money was intrinsically worthless, backed solely by faith in the issuing authority. Here, however, my notes all possessed a subtle, inherent spiritual resonance, making them harder to counterfeit and, in a strange way, more 'real' to the System than the simple, mundane metals they represented.

I manifested the first sample batch after a rather lengthy and somewhat frustrating "conversation" with Feng the Stump, who -- bless his uneducated, primitive mind -- initially struggled to grasp the abstract concept of representative currency. It had cost me a fair chunk of stored belief points to create the prototypes for him to see. But, once he held a physical note in his hand, once he understood that one could – theoretically – exchange it at a Jiang Exchange House for a pile of real precious metals, his belief solidified, and subsequent manifestations of the notes became laughably easy, requiring only the most basic BQT 2 input I could obtain from practically anyone with a modicum of spiritual weight.

The Jiang Exchange Houses immediately began offering a new service: customers could now deposit their heavy, cumbersome metal currency into the secure Jiang vaults (for a nominal storage fee, of course, which was waived for all Jiang family direct employees) and receive an equivalent value in lightweight, convenient Jiang Notes.

Initially, it was primarily members of my own rapidly growing workforce who embraced the new system, using the notes to make purchases at the ever-expanding network of Jiang-owned businesses. Jin Bao, acting on my instructions, had been on an acquisition spree, discreetly buying out (or, where necessary, "persuading" the owners of) all the important Qingshan businesses related to high-end food and entertainment (excluding brothels – for now), construction, transportation, and luxury goods. Through his diligent efforts, Qingshan was rapidly, almost seamlessly, transforming into a Jiang-owned corporate town.

Remarkably quickly, within only a few days, many other, non-Jiang businesses began to see the value and convenience of the new "Notes" favored by their wealthiest and most prolific customers. Seeing the sheer volume of Jiang Notes out in circulation, and the ease with which Jiang employees spent them, they, too, began to accept the Notes as payment. Soon enough, the reddish-bronze, moonlight-white, and, occasionally, even gold-leaf-colored rectangles were becoming a common sight in nearly every halfway-decent shop in Qingshan.

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To further streamline the process for the future – for I couldn't be everywhere at once – I even had the System manifest a couple of intricate money printing presses. These enormous machines, marvels of mundane engineering, required only the pre-manifested silk sheets, some high-end ink, and a small trickle of low-grade spirit stones as feedstock – some spirit stones provided the power to move the mechanisms, while those inserted into a special funnel were ground into a fine powder and mixed with the ink, giving the notes their unique spiritual signature and making them harder to forge.

Beyond the financial metamorphosis, Qingshan itself was also physically changing at a dizzying pace.

The town, was situated on the banks of the Azure Serpent River, a significant waterway that flowed up from the mineral-rich Whispering Peak mountains to the southeast, passed near Qingshan, and then curved away from the town north-northeast. This river, after meandering through another rather impoverished province, eventually connected to major waterways leading towards the vastly wealthier Imperial Core provinces.

However, in recent decades, direct ship traffic to and from Qingshan had dwindled to a mere trickle. The town's centuries-long decline into a "shithole," as so many so accurately described it, meant there was little of value to trade. The only vessels that regularly plied these waters were those transporting essential bulk commodities like rice or picked meat upstream, or the massive, heavily guarded ore-carrying barges that originated from the mines further upriver – which normally bipassed Qingshan entirely on their long journeys to the industrial heartlands of the Empire further to the north.

With my virtually unlimited ability to manifest mundane goods (limited only by the discreet acquisition of warehouse space where I could safely conjure everything from fine silks available in every color of the rainbow, to salt and exotic spices, furs and jewelry, vibrantly-painted porcelain, colored glassware, expertly-crafted furniture, honest-to-god bicycles, modular carts made of lightweight Aluminum alloys, fireworks, ingots of solid Titanium, metallic "legos," stuffed animals, ingenious mechanical toys, high-grade spirit rice, and vast quantities of well-preserved, tasty, and long-lasting foods (spirit wines and dried spirit beast jerky included), to name just a few things), Qingshan had the potential to become a major trading hub.

The city's newfound wealth, and the sheer amount of currency now circulating, was creating a voracious local demand for goods beyond mere necessities.

For now, my own, rapidly expanding network of businesses – all backed by my inexhaustible manifestation power – was easily able to provide whatever luxury goods the local populace desired and then some (thus, with a certain pleasing irony, immediately re-collecting a significant portion of the gold I so generously paid out in wages).

But, I knew this was only a short-term solution.

Eventually, I envisioned using the Azure Serpent River as a conduit, a vibrant artery, to distribute not only mundane luxury goods but also cultivator resources all throughout the Empire. That, however, would require a far larger and more trustworthy network of employees – and a much stronger security force – than I currently possessed.

But soon.

Very soon.

In the meantime, the construction boom was visible everywhere. Slowly but surely, under Jin Bao's increasingly harried but remarkably efficient supervision, entire new districts were springing up!

"Phoenix Rise Residences," a series of well-built, sanitary, and aesthetically pleasing community housing projects, were being built to replace the squalid, overcrowded slums near the river docks.

Further out, nestled in the scenic foothills, we were building the "Jade Serpent Manors" – elegant, private courtyard homes that were being constructed for my key personnel which, eventually, would be for sale to the town's newly affluent merchant class.

The existing, rather pathetic central martial arts arena was being rapidly expanded with new capacity designed to seat thousands. When finished, it would be a venue worthy of the spectacles I ultimately planned to stage.

Public works, long neglected in the past, were also a priority of mine. The "Azure Spring Pavilion," a complex of public baths fed by naturally warm, mineral-rich springs I'd "discovered" (i.e., manifested the geological conditions for) just outside the main city walls, was beginning construction, promising hygiene and relaxation for all citizens.

Adjacent to it, the "Tranquil Scholar Gardens" were being laid out as a place of beauty and serene contemplation.

My most ambitious long-term project, however, was the one closest to Leo Maxwell's idealistic heart: education.

I had hired a small team of down-on-their-luck scholars, refugees from some minor political upheaval in a neighboring province, and tasked them with a monumental undertaking: to research and, eventually, finalize the concept of standardized, printed glyphs – to be used in a general printing press, utilizing movable type.

My goal was to eventually mass-produce texts, to make books affordable and accessible, to break the stranglehold of hand-copied manuscripts that kept knowledge a precious, hoarded commodity of the elite. I envisioned a future where literacy was widespread, where ideas could disseminate rapidly, where the entire mortal population could eventually be uplifted.

That, I recognized with a touch of wry amusement, would be a centuries-long project. Perhaps even a millennia-long one.

But there was no harm in laying the foundation now.

One had to have hobbies, after all.

And amidst all this grand, societal engineering, "Project: Gain Real Power" – my own personal development – was also progressing with gratifying smoothness. My daily "conversations" with Feng the Stump, who was now comfortably ensconced in a secure but not at all unpleasant cell in my estate's newly fortified basement (and always made to wear a set of rather ingenious Qi-sealing talismans of my design for everyone's safety, just in case his gratitude for my continued sufferance of his face ever wavered), were proving remarkably fruitful.

Using his "motivated," pliable belief, I was systematically mastering a vast array of mortal skills, leaving no stone unturned.

Anatomy, to better understand the workings of the body.

Herbalism – the "inferior," mortal study of plants that was, in its own way, a precursor to the far more complex art of Alchemy.

Acupuncture, the delicate manipulation of the body's energy pathways.

Courtly etiquette, for my upcoming foray into Imperial politics.

Advanced sommelier and culinary arts, because a man of my station should appreciate fine dining.

Even the seemingly frivolous pursuits like playing various musical instruments – the zither, the flute, the drums – all were mastered to a level of effortless perfection that would have taken a mundane genius decades to achieve without the aid of the System.

But it was the Martial Arts skills that consumed the lion's share of my attention. I liberally, and with increasing creativity, made up entire martial arts styles from scratch – drawing upon the half-forgotten memories of Earth's action movies, historical martial traditions, stories heard by Jiang Li in the past, and my own burgeoning imagination.

There were devastating Finger techniques capable of penetrating through armor or striking acupoints with pinpoint accuracy.

Esoteric Breathing techniques that promised to enhance stamina and focus.

Impossibly-fast movement techniques that mimicked the flight of birds or the striking speed of serpents.

Crushing Palm and Fist techniques.

Bone-shattering Kicks.

Superior Body Tempering methods that, I claimed with utter conviction, far surpassed the crude, inefficient practices common among Martial Artists in this backward province.

And, of course, an encyclopedic mastery of skills with every conceivable weapon under the sun, from the humble staff to the exotic chain whip; from the brutal horse-chopping saber to the tiny throwing needle – and everything in between!

Each new skill, each new technique I manifested, I would then "demonstrate" to a suitably awed Feng the Stump, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and grudging admiration.

Each new "demonstration" shattered his mental state further, until he learned to accept the "truth" of all my claims – however insane or outlandish – absolutely and without question. It was a vicious, and wonderfully rewarding, feedback loop of blessed, belief-generating gaslighting.

And, after several days of dedicated martial skill infusions… I felt myself change.

Not just in terms of acquired knowledge, but physically.

Fundamentally.

I was still in the Qi Gathering realm, yes, but I could feel my body becoming stronger, faster, more resilient with each passing day. A quite impressive six-pack of lean, hard muscle now existed beneath my silk robes – a testament to the constant, if System-assisted, physical conditioning I made Feng believe I underwent.

The way I walked now, the way I carried myself, the subtle balance and poise in my every movement… all of it was different. It seemed that integrating dozens upon dozens of made-up – yet System-perfected – martial arts techniques and skills was having a profound, synergistic effect on my body's coordination, on my awareness of myself and my immediate environment.

I felt like I was beginning to touch upon some broader truth – perhaps some grand, underlying Dao of Battle – its principles slowly beginning to resonate within me with an intuitive clarity.

But, I didn't neglect actual practice either!

While my daytime hours were increasingly consumed by manifesting new wonders for Qingshan, helping Lin Ruolan hire and manage the ever-expanding staff for my myriad business ventures, and troubleshooting the inevitable logistical nightmares that arose from transforming a backwater town into a burgeoning metropolis, at night…

Well, at night, "Shadow" came out to play.

Dressed in form-fitting black clothing covered by an imposing hooded cloak, my features further concealed behind one of the liberated bandit masks (its voice-distorting properties proving remarkably effective at adding to my mystique), I had systematically sought out and… traded pointers… with every notable street fighter, every back-alley brawler, every self-proclaimed martial expert in Qingshan.

This included a couple of rather arrogant martial artists who had apparently journeyed up from Fallen Star City, drawn by rumors of Qingshan's sudden prosperity and the upcoming martial exhibition, hoping to make a quick name for themselves. They had, I reflected with a certain grim satisfaction, departed Qingshan somewhat wiser – and considerably more bruised for their trouble.

The grand exhibition fight with the aging masters of Qingshan's three local, and rather underwhelming, Martial Arts schools was still on the horizon.

I had high hopes for that event.

With a sufficiently large and enthusiastic audience, with their belief focused and amplified by the spectacle, I aimed to manifest a breakthrough to "Martial Grandmaster" – the Xue Qi equivalent of a late-stage Qi Gathering expert.

Yes, according to most cultivators, it was a "dead end path," as there was no known "Foundation Establishment" equivalent for Xue Qi – at least, in the Azure Dragon Empire.

But maybe – just maybe – it was a "dead end" that could yet be built upon in my hands.

And, just like that, a week had passed.

It was time for the fabled Shadow to publicly take the stage!