Chapter Forty-One: The Nation Acts

As soon as Chen Jin returned to his room, he immediately started checking his phone. A slew of notifications had just popped up, all from his WeChat group chats. The group owner had tagged him, as had several others, all waiting for an update about what had happened. He had switched off his location sharing a little while ago, but someone had probably noted the address, and by now, it was likely that people had already gathered under the bridge.

To this, Chen Jin simply sent a message: "Escaped safely, all is well, but my electric scooter was blown up." The group members flooded him with words of comfort, followed by more than a dozen red packet gifts. Clearly, this was a chat group of the well-off.

At 22:23, someone called "Love in the Parking Lot" sent a photo. Then another. Then a whole string of ten in a row. "Love in the Parking Lot" tagged "Mist Among the Clouds" and asked, "Which place is this?" "Little Dragon of the East Sea" replied, "So fast? I really like your name." The photos "Love in the Parking Lot" sent were all shots taken near the bridge, though only one captured the spot where Chen Jin had clashed with the man in black. After all, the location data only pinpointed a general area, not an exact spot.

The last person he tagged was Chen Jin, using his WeChat nickname.

"Mist Among the Clouds" replied, "This one," referencing a photo. At that moment, "Love in the Parking Lot" initiated a group video call.

Chen Jin joined, but instead of turning on his front camera, he activated the rear camera—just like everyone else who joined. No one in this group was a fool. "Love in the Parking Lot" was already filming the scene with his rear camera.

"Can you hear me? Can you hear me?" he began, his voice deliberately hoarse, clearly disguised to conceal his identity.

"We can hear you," several people answered.

"There’s a smell of blood at the scene. Mist Among the Clouds, were you hurt?" "Love in the Parking Lot" asked.

"It wasn’t me—my attacker was injured. He seemed to be hurt already when he came after me," Chen Jin replied.

Lying was a survival skill in modern times, and Chen Jin had long since mastered it, even leveling up a dozen times over. Now, he could lie with a perfectly straight face, even in person—let alone separated by two screens.

"Maybe he was hurt last night," someone suggested.

"That’s likely. Xiong Gua was quite strong," commented "Sorrowful Drunk."

Xiong Gua was Huang Xiping—the middle schooler who had died.

"Love in the Parking Lot, do you see any trace of him fleeing?" "Sorrowful Drunk" pressed.

"No, just a jumble of tire tracks and a few messy footprints—nothing else. Mist Among the Clouds, about how tall and heavy was your attacker?" "Love in the Parking Lot" asked.

Chen Jin had already thought of how to handle this. He couldn’t let suspicion fall on any of the group members, and he’d never indicated that the matter concerned anyone here. So he lied about the man in black’s height and weight too.

"A bit over 1.7 meters, about 120 jin," Chen Jin replied.

"None of the tracks here fit that description," "Love in the Parking Lot" said, puzzled.

"What if his shoes were a size larger?" "Sorrowful Drunk" suggested.

"He must have tampered with the scene," Chen Jin said.

"Yes… there are signs of that," "Love in the Parking Lot" agreed, panning his phone over the ground.

"I was focused on running, barely noticed anything else—sorry," Chen Jin said with a helpless, regretful tone.

"You did the right thing getting away. The fact that you managed to send us a message at all was already impressive," "Sorrowful Drunk" reassured him.

Others chimed in to comfort him as well. Frankly, Chen Jin thought another round of red packets would be even more effective.

In the end, the investigation came to nothing—everyone knew Chen Jin was new to the group. Oh, and "Love in the Parking Lot" was also a newcomer, but he’d joined as a heavy hitter, the very same renowned figure who had survived a thunder tribulation in the old city square. In Xiake County, only he would dare show up so brazenly.

This chat group was a mutual aid network for cultivators—no hierarchy, unless you counted cultivation levels. Everyone got along well, often organizing group expeditions to explore ancient sites in Jiao City, or holding remote discussions and debates with cultivator groups from other regions, even planning joint explorations of relics.

But when a group member was killed in such a brutal attack, everyone took it very seriously—united in anger and grief. After all, they were companions; if one fell, how could the others not feel it deeply and vow revenge?

That was why the information Chen Jin provided this time was so highly valued. The group owner had immediately asked "Love in the Parking Lot" to come to the rescue. Unfortunately, the attacker still got away, leaving everyone disappointed.

Chen Jin muted the group and sat down to meditate.

Ding-dong…

Suddenly, another message arrived.

"Sorrowful Drunk": [File]

Chen Jin opened the file sent by "Sorrowful Drunk." The document detailed the recovery of the world’s primordial energy. Within the next month, there would be a surge in the concentration of this energy across all of China, increasing by five to ten times. This information had been detected by the National Cultivators’ Association.

In response to the accelerating recovery of primordial energy, the government would soon launch a campaign to popularize cultivation. The National Cultivators’ Association, along with more than a dozen major cultivator organizations, would spearhead this effort. First up was a proposal to supplement breakfast for primary and secondary school students, as well as a revamp of calisthenics routines—these new exercises would become required learning in all schools.

Moreover, local cultivator organizations would be tasked with testing students’ aptitude for cultivation, screening for exceptional talent who would be placed into elite classes for specialized training.

Finally, experienced cultivators would be invited to universities to teach courses, receiving government stipends and a full range of cultivation benefits—the higher the realm, the greater the perks.

By the time Chen Jin finished reading, he realized the government must have been planning this for a long time. How else could they be so thoroughly prepared? They’d probably already investigated every cultivator organization in the country. Perhaps a national census of cultivators was coming, with everyone officially registered—maybe even issued a little red booklet.

But that didn’t concern Chen Jin much. What mattered to him was the recovery of primordial energy itself. With concentrations set to rise by five to ten times, and with regional variation, things could change dramatically.

Traditional cultivation required enormous amounts of this energy. At current levels, it was almost impossible for Chen Jin to reach higher realms. So, this surge was a blessing—not just for him, but for all traditional cultivators.

The latter part of the message also caught his eye, as it concerned his sister, Chen Lan. She was in high school, set to start university soon, but still had six months before the college entrance exams. In a month, the government would begin implementing these new measures.

When that happened, cultivation would become universal, a national endeavor.

Heroes would rise from the waves. Chen Jin himself wasn’t worried—he had his own secret advantages—but his sister and parents did not. He would have to find a path forward for them first.