Five days later, Quinn Shepherd arrived at Goldenford Prefecture. Compared to the county towns he’d passed along the way, Goldenford was on a whole other level of prosperity—it was a city built almost entirely atop the river. This river wasn’t the Yong River, but the Golden River, so Goldenford was also called Goldenridge.
The Golden River’s current was fierce and wide as the sea. Originally, Goldenridge City was built on an oasis in the midst of the river, but as more and more boats came and went, the city grew crowded and bustling, leading to a major expansion and construction boom.
At the time, the prefect in charge of Goldenridge was none other than the current Imperial Preceptor. Already a prodigy, he assembled master builders and countless sorcerers to drive thousands of massive stone pylons into the river—each over a hundred zhang long, more than 3,800 in total. The tops of the pylons rose thirty zhang above the water, allowing large ships to pass beneath and floodwaters to flow through unhindered.
The Imperial Preceptor, along with the craftsmen and sorcerers, paved roads with giant stones and stabilized them with divine arts, expanding Goldenridge City. It was a colossal project—tens of thousands of cultivators toiled here for ten years before the new city was finished.
Beneath the new city were skylights for illumination and drainage during heavy rain, and even shipyards built under the city, connected by winch channels.
The city’s edges were lined with docks of all sizes, where boats constantly arrived, unloaded, and loaded cargo.
It was so prosperous that people called it the ‘Little Capital.’ Some officials criticized the prefect, accusing him of plotting rebellion—the new Goldenridge City supposedly severed the empire’s dragon-vein, and the emperor should have him executed.
Others claimed the prefect had built a dragon’s head on the Golden River, with ulterior motives.
After the Imperial Preceptor completed this feat, he was summoned to the capital. Many thought the emperor would have him killed, but Crown Prince Evan greatly admired his talent. The prince was ambitious and farsighted; after ascending the throne, he repeatedly promoted the Imperial Preceptor, eventually making him the empire’s chief sorcerer.
Quinn only heard these stories from the boatmen—who knows if they’re true or not. Still, the Imperial Preceptor’s skill and Emperor Evan’s eye for talent left him deeply impressed.
Traveling with him on the boat were students from Goldenford Prefecture—some from humble backgrounds, others from wealthy families. Quinn learned that most of them attended the local elementary academies or universities, all part of the same system.
Quinn was surprised and asked about these schools, only then learning how the system worked.
The elementary academies and universities were established by the Imperial Preceptor and had spread throughout the empire.
The Imperial Preceptor told Emperor Evan, “When a child turns eight, from the princes down to commoners, all must enter the elementary academies and be taught physical training, etiquette, proper conduct, music, archery, charioteering, writing, arithmetic, cultivation basics, and foundation building. According to their talents, they’re taught accordingly—those who awaken their Spirit Embryos and break through the Spirit Embryo Wall can be selected for the universities.”
The Preceptor also said, “At age fifteen, from the emperor’s eldest son and other royal children to the sons of nobles and talented commoners, all enter the universities. There, they’re taught divine arts, swordsmanship, moral cultivation, self-cultivation, and governance, mastering both ancient and modern techniques. University students become direct disciples of the emperor, no longer needing to rely on sects. In time, this will resolve the dangers posed by independent sects.”
He added, “After graduating from university, students can enter the Grand Academy. There, they’re taught statecraft and generalship, delve into dao and governance. If managed well, the land will know peace and the emperor can rest easy.”
Quinn was deeply moved—how could a nation not flourish with such an approach to education?
No wonder the sects were constantly rebelling—the elementary academies and universities had squeezed out their space to survive.
On the boat, Quinn took out the Classic of Mathematics he’d bought in Goldenridge City and studied it closely, jotting down origin-solution equations with a charcoal pen.
Suddenly, a plump student asked, “Brother Quinn, are you also heading to the capital for the exams?”
Quinn nodded and smiled. "Yes. I’m heading to the capital to try my luck and make a future. Are you also going for the exams, Brother Wei?"
The plump student’s name was Wei Yong. He nodded and smiled, "To earn a title and study at the Grand Academy has always been my dream!"
Another student laughed, "Wei, the Imperial Grand Academy isn’t that easy to get into. You’re only fourteen and still in elementary academy—you can’t enter the Grand Academy yet!"
Wei Yong snorted, "So what if you’re a university student? Doesn’t mean you can beat me or Brother Quinn!"
The students all burst out laughing.
Quinn smiled too. Most of the students on the boat were heading to the capital for the exams, hoping to get into the Imperial Grand Academy.
The universities in Goldenridge only taught basic sword techniques and spells, with a limited curriculum. But the Imperial Grand Academy in the capital held a million volumes, covering every subject imaginable; nearly every cultivation method and divine art from across Everpeace was gathered there. It was the empire’s highest institution.
Getting into the Grand Academy was extremely difficult. University students from all over the empire fought tooth and nail for a spot, while elementary academy students dreamed of entering the universities there. For an elementary student to enter the Grand Academy was even harder—only the truly exceptional were accepted as exceptions. Each year, only a handful managed to pass the exams and get in.
The boatman steered the vessel toward the opposite shore.
Quinn noticed that this boat was powered by a peculiar alchemical furnace. Flames burned inside, and whenever medicinal stones were tossed in, their spiritual energy turned the furnace’s gears, which spun a giant paddlewheel like a watermill, propelling the ship forward.
The boatman only had to steer and control the direction.
Quinn clicked his tongue in wonder—where in the Great Ruins could you ever see something this strange?
Before long, the ship reached the shore. Quinn and the other students disembarked, and after a short walk, they arrived at the vehicle and beast market.
Quinn looked around, even more curious. Here, people rented and sold land-boats, flying carriages, spirit cranes, earth-dragons, and several tower-ships being readied for departure, billowing smoke and flashes of fire.
"Brother Quinn, over here!"
Wei Yong stood beneath a tower-ship, waving to him. The gangplank was down, and students were boarding.
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Quinn walked over, looking up at the tower-ship in amazement. Wei Yong, always outgoing, grinned, "Land-boats are too bumpy, flying carriages too expensive, and spirit cranes or earth-dragons leave you exposed to wind and sun. Tower-ships are much more comfortable, though a bit slower. The Academy’s selection is still far off—let’s take the ship to the capital."
Quinn agreed, "How much does it cost?"
Wei Yong pulled out a jug of wine and laughed, "You’re dressed even better than me. Still worried about the price? Fox girl, I bought you a jug of wine."
Lina the Spirit Fox was both surprised and delighted. She stood up formally, thanked Wei Yong, and accepted the wine jug.
Quinn went to pay the fare to the shipmaster. The journey from Goldenridge to the capital cost ten Dafeng coins—not expensive. Quinn had been spending freely for five days and had no sense of the coin’s value; he only knew that one Dafeng coin for a meal or lodging always made people beam with joy.
The two boys and the fox boarded the tower-ship. Soon, the ship was full. Apothecaries and attendants activated the alchemical furnace, transforming medicinal power into magic to fuel the bronze beast at the stern. Its mouth spewed fire, and the tower-ship slowly rose into the air, turned north, unfurled its sails, and sailed away from Goldenridge.
Each passenger had their own cabin, and meals were provided. For the next few days, they would spend their time aboard the ship.
Quinn stood on deck and looked down. The tower-ship climbed higher and faster, and Goldenridge shrank below. He could still see flying carriages, birds, and ships darting out of the city toward other destinations, and the river below was bustling with boats.
"Everpeace is truly a land of wonders."
Quinn marveled, "Ling Yuxiu said Everpeace’s arts and divine techniques change by the day, and it’s true."
He could see that Everpeace was applying dao and divine arts to every aspect of daily life, transforming how ordinary people lived. It was much like the sage’s way described in the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra.
The way of the sage lies in everyday life. Everpeace was doing a remarkable job.
Suddenly, a strange thought crossed his mind: "Could the Imperial Preceptor of Everpeace be one of our Heavenly Demon Cult members?"
Some of the students on board practiced martial arts; their skills were impressive, but what surprised Quinn was that they all seemed to train in the same techniques, spells, and sword arts.
Quinn was puzzled. "If everyone trains in the same techniques and sword arts, isn’t it easy to get caught out by an opponent?"
To him, martial artists were still laying their foundations, but scholarship was just as important. If everyone learned the same martial art, spell, and sword technique, their weaknesses would be obvious.
"I could beat ten of these martial artists with one hand," Quinn thought, shaking his head and returning to his study of the Classic of Mathematics. The Everpeace edition had ten volumes—he’d finished them all and had organized many origin-solution equations on paper.
At night, Quinn left his cabin and went to the deck, studying the stars overhead. He used origin-solution equations to make calculations and recorded them on paper.
After four days of drifting, the tower-ship neared the capital. Most students were visiting for the first time, and their excitement was palpable—they crowded the railings to look outside. Suddenly, violent tremors shook the ship, which tilted in the air; several students lost their grip and fell off.
Those students hadn’t learned flight techniques and screamed as they plummeted—the ship was so high that it would be some time before they hit the ground.
Quinn frowned, bracing himself with legs planted like two spears. He grabbed the drunken Lina in one hand and the equally tipsy Wei Yong in the other, keeping them from being thrown overboard.
Just then, wild laughter echoed from outside. A colossal python with a mouth full of backward-curving fangs bit into the stern, pulling hard!
Everyone on board was terrified—the stern had already been torn off. Students near the back fell from the ship, and some were swallowed by the giant python!
On the python’s flat head stood a figure in a floral robe, face painted with rouge and powder—an alluring, flamboyant man, watching the panic on the ship with excitement.
[Translator’s note: The preceding passages adapt remarks by Zhu Xi of the Song Dynasty. The terms ‘elementary academy’ and ‘university’ have ancient origins, with their names established around the first century BCE. The Classic of Rites records: ‘In ancient times, at age eight, children left home to study minor arts and cultivate small virtues; at age fifteen, they entered university to learn major arts and cultivate great virtues.’ The Book of White Tiger adds: ‘At eight, enter elementary academy; at fifteen, enter university.’