Li Yunxian had previously given only a brief account to Boxing and that Hezuoshi, but now, with no need to hurry, she detailed all her experiences and discoveries in Zhencheng.
Min Juan couldn’t hold back and slammed the table, her voice angry. “Such a vicious mind!”
At first, as Li Yunxian explained, those present still wondered if there was a chance things had formed naturally.
But after hearing everything, no one could harbor such illusions.
Simply put, if it had formed entirely by chance, it would be almost impossible for everyone to be so uniform in their fate—trapped between life and death.
Li Yunxian, looking at the expressions of the two before her, was comparatively calm.
“After all, they are outsiders,” Li Yunxian stated.
In the world she once lived in, every evil cultivator who made it to the top had committed unspeakable atrocities.
And not just once.
That was the way of the demonic path.
They only ever considered themselves; the feelings of others never touched them at all.
The only concern was whether something benefited them.
And sometimes, not even that—so long as it amused them, they would do it, acting entirely as they pleased.
The very trait of kindness or altruism had been completely erased from them.
In the end, they became true demons.
In this world, the righteous path and the demonic path are quite distinct, so even those who cultivate to the Tribulation Crossing stage have little knowledge of such things.
Li Yunxian’s perspective didn’t come from wanting to one-up the others in insight.
She simply felt helpless that Min Juan and Tang Shaoqi’s first reaction after listening was one of anger, driven by emotion.
Li Yunxian could only remind them, “I think you should look into Feng Ji.”
Min Juan and Tang Shaoqi didn’t react at first. “What about him?”
“You suspect he’s behind this? That’s impossible, isn’t it?”
Both of them instinctively denied it.
Feng Ji was one of the original five foundational figures who had shaped Zhencheng’s current nature.
Or rather, he was the most famous and influential of the five, with the greatest impact on the interstellar world.
Not that Feng Ji was the smartest among them, but he alone cultivated to Golden Core.
He lived long enough.
The others were either ordinary people who couldn’t cultivate at all, like Duàn Huácǎi, or had mediocre talent, managing to reach Foundation Establishment only with the help of rare treasures.
After all, putting aside research and cultivation, just manufacturing magical tools or cultivating was something many people couldn’t do both at once.
Only those who accepted they had no talent in cultivation would devote themselves to making magical tools.
And for research and invention, especially epoch-making discoveries, the time and energy needed was beyond imagination.
Li Yunxian’s teacher, Li Tianying, was only devoted to making magical tools and was a master of that craft—not an inventor or researcher in the same sense.
Feng Ji became a cornerstone of his era and reached Golden Core. Without a doubt, he was a genius among geniuses—a legendary figure of the righteous interstellar path.
For Min Juan and Tang Shaoqi, Feng Ji was one of the rare seniors whom they genuinely revered.
They had grown up hearing songs of praise for Feng Ji and found it hard to think badly of someone like that.
But while they didn’t want to believe it, Min Juan and Tang Shaoqi didn’t directly dismiss Li Yunxian’s words.
Instead, they chose to reason it out.
The two quickly opened their system panels.
As cultivators at the Tribulation Crossing stage, they had the highest level of access in the official system.
The technology level in Duàn Huácǎi and Feng Ji’s era wasn’t much different from Shenzhou’s.
In other words, there was already a network, and all related records were well preserved.
Even looking up the life experiences of someone like Feng Ji, who lived nearly ten thousand years ago, yielded very complete records.
From his birth to his eventual death, every one of his inventions and every milestone in his cultivation was clearly recorded.
The more Min Juan and Tang Shaoqi read, the grimmer their faces became.
If they hadn’t known about the problem with Zhencheng, nothing would seem amiss in Feng Ji’s record.
But now, everyone knew something was wrong with Zhencheng.
“His cultivation speed is off.” Min Juan’s face twisted with a look that was somewhere between tears and bitterness.
Who could have thought that after living thousands of years and having only a handful of people they truly admired, she’d still encounter a fallen idol.
Tang Shaoqi’s face didn’t look good either, but he added, “But Feng Ji was definitely a righteous cultivator.”
Even in Shenzhou, there were magical tools that tested one’s heart and intent. The interstellar era would certainly have them too.
As a key research figure in the interstellar world, Feng Ji must have been under strict supervision, every person subjected to rigorous inspection.
Including researchers like Feng Ji himself.
After all, what if one of them had been replaced by outsiders?
“But so what? It’s not as if outsiders can’t cultivate the righteous path,” Min Juan said bitterly.
While the official definition of outsiders was those who cultivated the demonic path, reality was much more complex.
Those who fell into the demonic path could lose all humanity and live only for themselves, but most righteous cultivators valued emotions deeply.
If someone important to them chose the demonic path, some would still follow, even knowing it led to ruin.
Even though every lesson warned that no one who made such a choice had ever met a good end.
But feelings could drive a person to make the wrong choice, no matter how foolish or tragic, even knowing how terrible it was, even becoming complicit in evil.
And these people knew, deep down, that it was wrong—they were betraying their own morals.
They felt guilt and regret, still believing in the righteous path, so they would not truly fall into the demonic path.
But their actions already deviated from the righteous path, so their cultivation would stagnate from then on.
And what Min Juan saw was exactly like Feng Ji’s own cultivation changes.
“When Feng Ji was fifty, he had already reached the early Golden Core stage, but he never advanced beyond mid Golden Core before he died,” Min Juan said weakly.
To reach Golden Core by fifty, even for someone entirely focused on cultivation, was extraordinary.
With such talent, there was no reason for his cultivation to stagnate at mid Golden Core—he should have reached Nascent Soul at least.
No one ever doubted this before, simply because in his later years, Feng Ji was wholly devoted to research and invention.
That was even written in the textbooks—Feng Ji sacrificing himself for the sake of the interstellar world, a model of virtue.
But what if that wasn’t the case?
What if his actions were actually him desperately trying to make up for the guilt in his heart?
“Feng Ji’s cultivation slowed down at almost exactly the same time the Zhencheng project started,” Min Juan sighed.
After saying this, Min Juan and Tang Shaoqi forced themselves to calm down and accept this fact.
“We’ll look carefully into everyone connected to Feng Ji and see if there are any links to the demonic path.”
Having said what they would do next, Min Juan looked at Li Yunxian with a trace of puzzlement.
“How did you judge that Feng Ji had a problem?”
From Li Yunxian’s account, the name Feng Ji had only appeared a few times, and nothing else seemed to point to him. How had Li Yunxian come to suspect him?
Li Yunxian replied calmly, “The operational logic of the Zhencheng system could only be created by someone with deep understanding of the bizarre and even the demonic path.”
In a world where the righteous and demonic coexisted, Li Yunxian considered herself quite well-versed in the demonic path, but even she needed to listen to Duàn Huácǎi and the others’ teaching to understand the system.
Even understanding it was difficult for her; no matter how gifted Feng Ji was, he shouldn’t have been able to reach that level.
“And most low-level cultivators, even if they reach Golden Core, only have a shallow understanding of the righteous path—let alone such deep knowledge of the demonic path.”
Eight or nine times out of ten, it was likely that a demonic cultivator had provided him guidance.
Seeing that Min Juan and Tang Shaoqi seemed about to speak after hearing this, Li Yunxian didn’t give them a chance to interrupt.
She continued, “Moreover, every researcher treasures their own work immensely.”
“Especially research as important as Zhencheng.”
“So why, after developing it, did he choose to have Duàn Huácǎi take over?”
“Duàn Huácǎi’s explanation was that Feng Ji had other projects on hand and couldn’t focus on this one, but it was important and needed to be finished quickly, so he let Duàn Huácǎi, who was more familiar with this field, take charge.”
“But that doesn’t make sense—if something was that important, he should have handled it himself and passed his other projects on to someone else.”
Right?
After listening to this series of analytical deductions from Li Yunxian:
They were convinced.
Still, as fellow Tribulation Crossing cultivators, they had plenty of life experience, yet never suspected anything from the information their contacts had provided—how could they have missed it?
But on the surface, Min Juan and Tang Shaoqi remained calm, nodding, and then asked Li Yunxian, “That time rift you mentioned—is it safe?”
Li Yunxian nodded. “It’s confirmed to have formed naturally. That outsider was probably a master in magical tools and discovered the space by accident while researching them.”
“When the time fluctuation occurred, the entire rift resonated with it, showing it was not under anyone’s control.”
Since they were on this topic, Li Yunxian remembered, back when she first entered the rift and was chatting with Duàn Huácǎi and the others, that question which made them all feel so resentful.
“Are you still having people study Zhencheng in depth these days?” Li Yunxian asked.
“Not really.” Min Juan thought over the information she’d received. “There’s still some research, but it’s no longer a priority.”
The reason was just what Li Yunxian had told Duàn Huácǎi and the others: there were already enough cities in the interstellar world, so Zhencheng research had become a dying field.
“Right now…” Min Juan paused, as if recalling something, “Our entire focus is…”
“On Wanwuwu.”
Wanwuwu—a second world, fully simulating reality.
There, all righteous cultivators could safely cultivate, advance, and improve themselves, and much research could be carried out directly within Wanwuwu.
The resources needed for this were far less than doing things in reality.
And there was no need to worry about failures causing harm to researchers.
As long as one dared to imagine, to experiment, to operate, they could try anything without fear.
With basic safety ensured, the interstellar world’s research priorities naturally shifted to Wanwuwu—there was nothing strange about that.
But now…
Li Yunxian and Min Juan exchanged glances.
“…Got it. Next time you get a chance, let me visit the Wanwuwu control center.” Li Yunxian said tiredly.
“No problem!”
Min Juan and the others agreed instantly, as if afraid Li Yunxian would change her mind.