Song Yi laid down, the old version of him superimposed on top of the young.

His eyes opened.

The instant they did, the memories of his life lived in the corridor entered his mind.

“Was that you?” he asked internally.

“Yes.”

“What was that place?”

“It’s called the Gate of Man. As for what you experience within, it varies from person to person. For some people, it takes only a few minutes to traverse the corridor. For you, it seems to have taken a lifetime.”

“If I hadn’t left…” He let the question hang in the air.

“You would’ve died. Many do.”

Song Yi didn’t respond, so the monarch continued.

“But you didn’t die. You opened the gate on your own. You’ve taken your first true step into the world of cultivation, kid. Good job.”

Looking up to the sky, Song Yi could see the moon exactly where it had been when he began to meditate. It seemed that, even though so much time had passed for him, it had been no more than a few minutes within the real world.

With a distant look in his eyes, Song Yi wondered how Fang Li, Zhi Yue and Zhang Bo were doing. Had they seen the Gate of Man yet? For that matter, he didn’t even know if Su Bai had.

He hadn’t known them long. Aside from Su Bai, he’d scarcely interacted with the others, but they’d joined the sect through the same examination. He felt that had to count for something.

One could only sit and ruminate for so long. Eventually, as the sun began to rise over the horizon, Song Yi stood up and made his way back home.

By now, he figured the mob would have dispersed. Still, he wasn’t about to risk it. He might be more powerful now, but he wasn’t confident in taking on an entire horde of cultivators on his own.

Therefore, he took the scenic route — looping through one of the smaller cities. Lying in the north, this city was named Changshu. Out of the six cities on the ninth land mass, it was the second smallest.

The largest city, Nanchao, was a city to the far south of the land mass.

Song Yi reckoned that, given the direction that Zhang Bo, Fang Li and Zhi Yue walked in, they had most likely gone to a village near Nanchao. This was also the city that contained the Ninth Elder’s residence.

As he made his way through the streets of Changshu, he found that the initial shock he’d experienced when he first saw the sect still hadn’t worn off. Forget the grand and resplendent spire, even the mortals in the smaller cities enjoyed privileges that mortals in regular cities could never imagine.

For example, around the city could be seen small enclosed boxes, large enough to fit a few adults. When Song Yi had first seen someone enter one, he’d been curious and had decided to enter his own. Within, he’d seen a glowing ball of lightning-essence Qi that miraculously spoke to him.

After some tinkering, and not without some assistance from the monarch, he figured out that these boxes were built atop veins of metal-essence Qi that ran under the ground, all over the thirteen land masses. Using them allowed one to communicate vocally with someone inside a connected box. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

Another example was a metal box for holding food. The bottom of the box had a small tube at either end which met in the middle, connected by a complicated circle of runes. When he asked about it, Song Yi had been told that if water-essence Qi were put into one end, and wind-essence in the other, the formation engraved would combine it into a basic ice-essence Qi that could keep the box cool for weeks.

And such inventions weren’t limited to just these. To describe them all, though, could take days.

Of course, these gadgets cost many sect credits. There were few to no novitiates who could afford such luxury.

Song Yi, however, was not like most novitiates. He was exceedingly rich at the moment, and as such had to force himself to keep his eyes from wandering.

It scared him when he realized that, upon seeing a shiny that caught his fancy, his first instinct was to actually pay for it rather than steal it.

Had his experiences at the Gate of Man changed him that much?

Feeling the sect credits in his holding bag, he chuckled. It wasn’t the Gate of Man, but rather the age-old influencer: Money.

Sure enough, he soon came across one shiny that he couldn’t pass up. It was at a good price, too.

“Storage Rings for sale — as cheap as 10,000 sect credits!”

Looking at the shiny rings in the window, he wondered, not for the first time, how there were mortals in the lands below who could get their hands on such artifacts. After all, they utilized a space-essence Qi formation that one could only power with Vital Qi.

The Vital Qi cost wasn’t much — perfectly within an acceptable range, even for a mortal. But regardless, the mortals outside the Blue Moon Sect should have no knowledge of Qi in general.

Song Yi didn’t ponder on the topic too long, though. After all, he’d left the mortal world behind him.

Five minutes later, he had a newly acquired spatial ring. He’d bought the cheapest one he could find, and had even managed to haggle the price down to 8300 sect credits. He may have become a moneybags, but he was aware that that had its limitations, and wasn’t a recurring resource at the moment.

The ring was a simple silver band, decorated only by the spatial formation engraved within. Sending some Vital Qi into it, a small vortex opened up. Closing one eye so he could peek inside, he saw a dimly lit space, 125 cubic metres in size. This was something unique about space-essence; it held the power of the fourth dimension.

Grinning with youthful excitement, he put the sack he’d been carrying inside the space. As it neared the vortex, it began to contract, expanding once more when it reached the other side.

“It’s depressing to see how far society has regressed…” Emperor Wang muttered.

Song Yi was taken aback. Regressed? Wasn’t all this stuff groundbreaking? Incredible? When he asked for more info, the old man continued.

“When I reigned, storage rings of much higher quality than this one were as common as grains of sand. As for those other toys, while they may be novel to you, to me they’re just poor imitations of what my imperial scholars developed.”

Song Yi had long ago become accustomed to the monarch’s arrogant tone. It no longer fazed him. While another man insulting his new home may have irritated Song Yi, Wang Anzhou was actually qualified to speak such words. Much to Song Yi’s chagrin, he couldn’t help but feel some measure of reverence for the old man. This was especially so after seeing his true appearance.

Therefore, when he heard these words, his reaction was one of fascination. He wanted to hear more.

Before their conversation could continue, something else caught his eye.

It was none other than Su Bai, who was walking down the street. She didn’t seem to have noticed him. Remembering Wang Anzhou’s advice to give her space, he was about to branch off and take a roundabout route home; but he stopped himself.

Su Bai was entering a large building, along with quite a few other novitiates. The sign above the building read: “Changshu Lecture Hall.”

In truth, Song Yi had been curious about these lectures since he had joined the village and first heard about them. On a few occasions, he had considered attending. What stopped him, of course, was the monarch. He didn't refuse to let Song Yi go, but with him around, there wasn't much point in Song Yi's attending.

That said, Song Yi's intrigue hadn't been sated, and now that he was already here, it was an ideal opportunity.

Most importantly, with so many people entering, it would be easy to keep out of Su Bai’s sight.

So, knowing there was no better time than the present, Song Yi merged into the crowd and entered the hall.