Chapter 109: The Crane's Message

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Everyone glanced toward Shengjing with complicated expressions. Ordinary people, as subjects of a nation under the Great Liang Dynasty, were bound by allegiance. To seize territory independently, establish one’s own army, and place the Great Liang Dynasty in such a position was no small matter. More than that, to create an entire system, though not openly defiant to the dynasty, yet to change the allegiance of most lands south of Central Plains was a grave offense.

Despite this, no one below seemed particularly concerned. Faced with these two options, weighing pros and cons, those within the council chamber had status no less than fifth-rank officials of the imperial court, and wielded actual power—positions that even high-ranking court officials seldom held. As for the matter of imperial reconciliation, anyone with sound reasoning and clear judgment would not engage in it; those obsessed with reconciliation would never sit in such a chamber.

Yet the cultivators like Lou Jinkui appeared utterly indifferent. Practitioners believed themselves citizens of Heaven and Earth, born and nurtured by it, inherently proud. Having a dynasty pressing upon them was unbearable, so they did not concern themselves with current affairs.

Commander Jia Chengwu pondered and agreed with Taoist Ren’s words, saying, “Let us proceed with this arrangement.”

Taoist Ren nodded, then rose and left. The others began preparing individually.

After leaving, Taoist Ren wandered around Mount Tianzhu, contemplating the strategy below. Suddenly sensing a disturbance in the northern region's aura, he used his Qi perception to gaze toward the northern sky.

From the direction of Shengjing, a swirling qi appeared, accompanied by a strange yellow light that had already corrupted half of the fragile dragon-shaped fortune of Shengjing, with signs of further expansion.

“This is bad. There’s demonic chaos in Shengjing,” Taoist Ren said gravely.

But then his expression relaxed as he muttered, “It seems the Great Liang Dynasty is doomed. Its fortune has shifted; death is near. To fulfill the grand plan of Heaven and Earth, we must simply not obstruct it.”

He sighed deeply. “The common people suffer greatly. We must find a way.”

After some thought, he took out a piece of paper, folded it into a crane, and drew a tracking talisman on it with a cinnabar brush. Whispering a few words to the crane, he then silently summoned his primordial spirit, breathed innate qi onto it, and painted two eyes on the crane’s head.

Upon opening his hand, the paper crane seemed to come alive, fluttered its wings, circled Taoist Ren once, then transformed into a red-crowned crane, soaring straight into the clouds toward Shengjing.

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Taoist Ren nodded and turned toward the alchemy room.

...

An hour later, at the Jia Family Trading Company’s main store in Shengjing, Jia Mingde, the chief steward for Central Plains affairs, sat before a desk piled high with paperwork—cases recently handled. Many others nearby were occupied with similar tasks; after all, some matters were too great for one person alone.

The Jia Trading Company had always been in decline in Shengjing, having sided with Wu Anhou and thus suffering suppression from the royal faction. Business was scarce until Wang Yuanfeng’s recent departure, after which affairs suddenly increased.

At this critical juncture, Jia Trading Company had invested almost everything into Wang Yuanfeng, aside from stabilizing its own trade routes. Failure would still leave assets, at worst diminished, maintaining a century-long holdout. Complete ruin was unlikely. The Jia family followed the principle of having multiple fallback plans. Who does not keep a way out for themselves?

Success, however, would be a leap to greatness—perhaps establishing a millennial lineage. Investment bears risk; the greater the risk, the greater the return.

Jia Deyin, having just resolved a particularly thorny issue, stretched and planned to take a walk. The intense mental labor, even for someone skilled in martial arts like him, was taxing over long hours.

Moreover, the cases he handled were all difficult. Simpler matters were delegated to subordinates. Recently, he had been the liaison for Wang Yuanfeng and Jia Trading Company’s communications—a role that made him indispensable to both.

“I wonder what new troubles await below. Shengjing has become restless of late. I must prepare early,” Jia Deyin thought as he strolled through the garden.

Suddenly, a crane’s cry pierced the air, pulling him back from his thoughts. Delighted, he looked toward the sound and saw a red-crowned crane perched atop the wall.

The crane’s intelligent eyes fixed on Jia Deyin, clearly a signal from Taoist Ren of the Dongyue Temple. The red-crowned crane flew to Jia’s side, opened its beak, and dropped a note, then leisurely wandered through the garden.

Jia Deyin’s ease with the crane showed he was no stranger—though Wang Yuanfeng never introduced them, they were always ready to provide protection. Many who wished to rise had naturally organized themselves into a system.

Jia Deyin never doubted the crane’s authenticity, believing it was raised by Taoist Ren. If Wang Yuanfeng were present, he would discern the truth: the crane could be both real and illusory.

According to the “Qimen Dunjia” arts, there are two types of magic—celestial cranes and celestial herbs—both transformation techniques used to evade natural disasters. Taoist Ren’s crane magic, however, seemed of a higher order, blending multiple spells, making it exceptionally difficult to master.

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After reading the note, Jia Deyin thought, “So it is.”

He then called out into the room, “Someone.”

“Master Steward,” a young man with a sword at his side appeared swiftly, sharp-eyed and agile.

Jia Deyin considered briefly, then said, “Notify the Hou residence. Shengjing is in upheaval. Be ready to evacuate at any moment.”

He paused, then continued, “Bribe the guards at all four city gates to ensure smooth exit. Set up porridge stations outside the city to attract refugees. When the time comes, withdraw both north and south.”

The swordsman was stunned by the severity but had no doubts, bowing respectfully: “Understood, Master Steward.”

He glanced once at the red-crowned crane casually strolling in the garden, then leapt and swiftly left the compound.

Jia Deyin watched the departing young swordsman—an outstanding figure of the younger generation, loyal and efficient, whose martial skill he respected. After a moment’s thought, Jia returned to his room, took up brush and ink, and wrote a letter. Then he went back to the red-crowned crane.

Seeing Jia ready with the letter, the crane opened its beak, the paper shrinking as it flew into its mouth. It nodded to Jia, flapped its wings a few times, rose into the air, circled the courtyard, then lifted its head and soared into the clouds, headed north.

Jia Deyin watched the crane’s flight, silent and thoughtful for a long while.