Yang Wenqing’s heart stirred as he accepted the document.
Ten recommendation slots for the academy was no small matter. The Yang Family Village had to apply at the start of every year and, at most, would receive only three slots. Of course, the main reason for this was that very few people from the village ever managed to pass the entrance exams.
The Civil Affairs Academy was an educational institution directly under the Civil Affairs Bureau, established specifically to train its officials. Getting in was simple, but truly graduating and receiving an official’s seal was extremely difficult. Most students studied for two years before leaving to become minor clerks.
As for the "National Divine Artifact" Vice Director Gao had mentioned...
An image surfaced in Yang Wenqing’s mind: a thick, heavy, pitch-black spirit tablet enshrined in the Yang Family Village’s ancestral hall. The front of the tablet was inscribed with the word "Wanxuan."
It was not a deity with an independent will. It was the symbol and vessel of order, law, and collective will, forged hundreds of years ago at a joint conference using the faith of the entire nation and an unimaginably complex system of Secret Techniques.
At the core of the ancestral hall or public altar of every registered Clan, village, and town was an enshrined faith anchor point connected to the main body of the National Divine Artifact.
Common people worshiped it daily, praying for favorable weather and peace in their homes. Their devout faith would flow through this anchor point into a vast torrent of belief, becoming the source of power that nourished the National Divine Artifact and maintained the operation of the nation’s order and law.
However, for those who aspired to join the Civil Affairs Bureau, the meaning of this "National Divine Artifact" was completely different.
The core practice for officials of the Civil Affairs Bureau, especially ranked officials, was not the traditional Cultivation Techniques used by those practicing Qi Cultivation to elevate their own life essence. Instead, it was the cultivation of Divine Arts, intimately connected to the National Divine Artifact. Wanxuan, however, had rebranded it, calling it the "Way of the State."
Through specific rituals, studying specific classics, and carrying out specific duties, they continuously deepened the connection between their own consciousness and the national order and collective will represented by the "National Divine Artifact."
The higher their Cultivation, the deeper this connection became, and the stronger the power of order they could command. They could even reach a point where their words became law within their own jurisdiction, and they could wield greater power by projecting the might of the National Divine Artifact.
This power was extremely formidable within a specific area, enough for a High-tier civil official to hold their own against a traditional Cultivator of the same or even a higher tier.
But this path had clear limitations and costs. First, their power was bound to their official position and geographical jurisdiction; leaving their jurisdiction or losing their post would cause their power to diminish significantly. Second, the Cultivator’s own consciousness became deeply bound to the "national will," all but severing any possibility of achieving a long life.
When Yang Wenqing first read this information, his immediate thought was, ’Their inability to achieve long life must be the main reason countless other Cultivators are willing to let them hold power.’
It was precisely for this reason that many with a talent for cultivation preferred to join the city guard, the inspectorate, or the military, or to become Loose Cultivators, free from most constraints. The Civil Affairs Bureau, in contrast, attracted those who valued worldly authority, the continuation of their family lines, or were willing to integrate themselves into a larger collective order.
"Thank you for your guidance, Vice Director Gao." Yang Wenqing placed the document into his Storage Bag, his mind already racing with calculations.
"You need to understand that on your future path of cultivation, apart from your master and sect, the ones you can trust the most are your own clansmen." Vice Director Gao nodded as if concluding the topic, then glanced meaningfully toward the private room across the pond where Director Qin was staying. "It never hurts to pave a few extra roads."
Yang Wenqing nodded silently. He understood the subtext in Vice Director Gao’s words. ’The pursuit of power is multifaceted. Personal Cultivation is the foundation, but authority, connections, and the backing of systems and groups are indispensable wings.’
After he finished speaking, Vice Director Gao clapped his hands, and the dancers who had left during their conversation filed back into the room.
Yang Wenqing stayed until eleven o’clock. Seeing that Vice Director Gao and Deputy Director Zhou were completely absorbed in the gentle melodies and graceful dancing, and that there seemed to be no other important matters to discuss, he found an excuse to rise and take his leave.
He walked out through the unassuming, black-lacquered wooden door of the Liuyun Music Garden. The night was deep, and the streets were nearly empty.
The cool evening breeze carried away the warm fragrance and slight intoxication from the private room. He suddenly wanted to walk along the silent streets for a while, letting the night air clear his mind so he could sort through all the information he had received that day.
When he was almost home, he subconsciously turned into a narrow alley that served as a shortcut. The alley was tight, flanked by high walls. Only a few widely spaced streetlights cast dim, yellow halos, barely illuminating the bluestone path under his feet.
Just as he reached the middle of the alley, a figure appeared silently at the edge of the shadows, beyond the reach of the next streetlight.
The person was tall and thin, dressed in a somewhat loose-fitting gray tunic, and stood silently in the dimness. As Yang Wenqing drew closer, to the point where the light could just barely trace the contours of his face, a strange feeling inexplicably rose within him.
The man’s face was clean, his features perfectly arranged, but he looked like a finished product meticulously carved by a craftsman, lacking the texture and healthy color of living skin. The corners of his mouth were turned up slightly, holding the curve of a polite but rigid smile. His eyes stared directly at Yang Wenqing, yet his pupils were hollow and lifeless, like two bottomless ancient wells that reflected no emotion or light.
Yang Wenqing’s steps faltered. His guard shot up instantly. He could clearly sense that the person before him lacked the qi and blood of a living being, radiating only a deathly cold.
Seeing Yang Wenqing stop, the rigid smile on the gray-clad man’s face seemed to deepen by a fraction. He then slowly raised a hand in an inviting gesture.