Young Master Bai — Chapter 61

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Chapter 61: Departure for Lin’an

To the human race, everything about the Great Snow Mountain remained an unsolved mystery. Cultivators assumed the yao there lived like wild beasts, surviving only by hunting. But in truth, things were different. As early as a thousand years ago, the Bai family of fox yao had claimed peaks to cultivate rare spiritual plants such as snow lotuses. The Great Bear clan had seized the high mountain ice lakes as their personal fishponds. The Red Fox clan raised yaks, snow hares, and pikas for daily food. Even the Heavenly Wolf clan, who seemed capable of nothing but fighting, possessed a secret method of brewing wine with blood.

Foxes herding cattle, wolves brewing wine — such stories would be laughable among humans. Yet these examples showed that the yao of the Great Snow Mountain were already much like the earliest human tribes, gradually escaping nature’s restraints by relying on tools and communal living.

Nor was that all. Though they did not use gold or silver as currency, the yao often bartered with each other. The upper-ranked yao even slipped into human black markets, secretly selling pelts and bones to nobles in exchange for silk and jeweled ornaments.

The primordial beasts had always despised humans’ tinkering with odd contraptions, seeing it as a sign of weakness. Never would they have imagined that their own descendants, after thousands of years, would walk the same path.

But this was the old road humans themselves had taken at the dawn of their race. To believe the Great Snow Mountain could bridge a gap of five thousand years in a single generation was something even Bai Chen himself found hard to accept.

Still, they held one advantage over the humans of old, who had stumbled along blindly — the history of human development had already been recorded and refined, passed down through generations. By learning from these experiences, the Great Snow Mountain could avoid detours that might otherwise waste millennia.

That raised a critical question: why would the human race share the very foundation of their survival with competitors?

This had long weighed heavily on Bai Chen’s heart. He knew that the excuse of “competition spurs growth” would only prevent the Unknown Truth Sect from attacking the Great Snow Mountain outright for now. If they wanted to learn genuine knowledge from the cultivators, they would have to offer real benefits in exchange. The trip to Lin’an was the yao leaders’ first official meeting with the Heaven’s Way Alliance, and the results would determine the future of their entire race.

Because it was so crucial, Bai Chen had been extremely strict in selecting the yao who would accompany him. Chenzui, as the successor, naturally had to go. Bai Yunce, the strongest yao of the mountain at present, also had to be included.

With the Nine-tailed White Fox, the eight-tailed Black Fox, and the six-tailed Red Fox all traveling together, their escort could not be ordinary. Ying Xiong awakened the Great Bear clan’s elite from hibernation, mustering thirty yao with five hundred years of cultivation to protect the young masters.

These bear guards might not match cultivators in the Tribulation Stage, but any one of them could fight on equal footing with those below that level. Even among humans today, such a retinue would be highly impressive.

In addition to them came Dugu Hou and his band of lesser yao. Bai Chen had searched the records of the grassroots Self-Strength Alliance from that year, specifically ordering Dugu Hou to gather those small yao who had sought advancement but had been suppressed by the great yao. He brought them into the entourage under the guise of servants.

It took half a day for the expedition to be assembled. Once Bai Chen confirmed everything was in order, he went to the Jade Spring to fetch the idle Li Wuming.

The peak that housed the Jade Spring was not tall. Because of this, it was the only place in the Great Snow Mountain where one could see seasonal changes, and it was where lower-ranked yao resided. In winter, the Jade Spring’s waters froze, save for the warm spring on the eastern side that still flowed. In summer, the outer waters melted into a lake. Now, deep in winter, the eastern hot spring had been claimed by great yao for feasting, while the snowy field to the west served as a playground for the young ones.

Upper-ranked yao were born with attendants at their side, enjoying amusements no less than human nobles. Once they took human form, they often turned to poetry, music, fine food, and wine for pleasure. In contrast, the offspring of small yao faced uncertainty as to whether they would ever transform. They had no servants to prepare delicacies for them. From birth they learned to hunt in the snow. As soon as they could stand, they had to feed themselves. Once older, they helped their parents hunt prey to trade for protection from the great yao.

The Great Snow Mountain had a strict rule: the foxes, bears, and wolves could not be eaten, nor could their fur be used by other yao. This policy, intended to avoid disputes among the three great clans, also acted as a shield for their young. Thus, these three were the most numerous among the mountain’s yao. In contrast, races like the snow hare, a delicacy favored by great yao, dared not set foot in predator territories without powerful backing.

The snowy field was filled with recently born little yao — fox cubs and bear cubs chasing one another with their downy white fur, looking almost identical to Bai Chen’s original form, save for the missing eight tails. But their treatment was worlds apart.

At that age, the little snow foxes did not realize that across the spring, children of the Bai family were being tended by servants with charcoal braziers, carefully roasting venison only to discard it after a single bite. They never needed to hunt for themselves. Lacking primordial bloodlines, they would grow up to serve as attendants to upper-ranked yao. Their happiest years were likely the carefree days of early childhood.

Great yao seldom came to the Jade Spring’s western side, and Bai Chen had only glimpsed it from afar during banquets. Now that he knew Bai Wei’s true identity, he looked again at the lives of the little yao. He thought of how, had Bai Wei not forcibly mingled their bloodline with that of other great yao, the Bai family’s descendants would have lived like ordinary snow foxes. The thought left him wistful.

Still, the troubles Bai Wei had left behind were undeniable. Bai Chen had no time for old grievances now. After a brief look, he approached Li Wuming, who was meditating under a tree. “We’re about to leave. Why are you still here watching fox cubs fight? Are they more pleasing to the eye than me?”

Li Wuming had always liked to play with Bai Chen’s tails, so it was no surprise that he was entranced by the furry little ones. Hearing Bai Chen’s slightly jealous tone, he chuckled, not rising but instead pulling Bai Chen to sit with him in the snow. In a low voice, he said, “I’m comprehending the Dao.”

To the yao, such practices of cultivation seemed like superstitious nonsense. Bai Chen could not fathom what truths about Heaven and Earth could possibly be hidden in the antics of a few fox cubs tumbling in the snow. Curious, he asked, “What Dao do you see here?”

“Princes and nobles — are they born different? Heaven has the virtue of cherishing life. Man follows Earth, Earth follows Heaven, Heaven follows the Dao, and the Dao follows nature… There are countless Daos. My master could meditate on them for a thousand years.”

Bai Chen had heard these words before but never understood why humans could dwell so much on such intangible notions, even waging wars over them. With the little foxes unpretentious before Li Wuming, he bluntly remarked, “Your human race lives too well. You’ve forgotten the ancient days when you fought beasts for food, and now you have the leisure to fret over your rivals’ lives and deaths.”

The words were sharp, but Li Wuming nodded calmly. “True. But if everyone thought only of filling their bellies, the human race’s path would have ended long ago.”

Few humans would admit they were merely restless with full stomachs. Li Wuming truly was an extraordinary man. Bai Chen had given his heart to him five hundred years ago without truly knowing him. Now, peeling back the layers to glimpse his true nature, Bai Chen found himself ever more captivated. To be bewitched was nothing else but this.

With Li Wuming, Bai Chen never cared about titles. The words he could not voice to subordinates, he could share freely with him. Looking at the little yao pressed low into the snow in fear of his presence, Bai Chen sighed softly. “I hope the yao of the Great Snow Mountain can also live like this — unafraid, with no worries for food or clothing. Even if they spend their days tinkering with odd little things, they won’t have to fear being hunted, and might even have the leisure to pity moths and ants.”

Li Wuming’s expression shifted. “Which yao do you mean?”

“All creatures who call the Great Snow Mountain home.”

The reply came so naturally that Bai Chen did not even think before saying it. Li Wuming tilted his head to study the snow fox he had raised, eyes filled with approval. “With a heart like this, I believe you can do it.”

The yao were too fond of dividing themselves into factions. Even fox yao split into White Fox, Red Fox, Black Fox, Nine-tailed Fox, and so on. Such stark distinctions only bred conflict. In Bai Chen’s eyes, as long as a yao was useful to the mountain, race did not matter. Yao were far stronger than humans individually. If each one could contribute in their own way, there was no reason they should lose to mankind.

Of course, the divisions had long since hardened. To break them down into one united front would take time. For now, Bai Chen set a smaller goal: to have the mountain’s clans recognize one another. To Li Wuming, he said:

“You claim laws are the foundation of a nation. But I think no matter how fine the law, without a worthy executor it remains empty words. Amending old customs will inevitably provoke backlash, so we must not move too hastily.”

The annihilation of the Heavenly Wolf clan had left the other clans wary of the new Yao King. Only Ying Xiong and Bai Yunce, too simple-minded and close as brothers, failed to suspect Bai Chen’s involvement and continued acting as usual. All the others treated Bai Chen with the utmost respect, fearful of provoking him to wrath.

Following Li Wuming’s advice, Bai Chen summoned three yao generals and established three new fundamental laws for the mountain: First, every yao registered in the records was a subject of the Great Snow Mountain, and cannibalism was forbidden. Second, on the first of each month, a market would be opened at the Jade Spring, allowing trade with humans. All private dealings outside the official market were banned. Third, the tribute relationships between great yao and small yao had to be written contracts filed with the Bai family. No private trafficking or slaughter was permitted.

These three laws became the foundation of the Great Snow Mountain. Violating the first meant exile to the Ice Valley. Violating the second meant death on the spot. Violating the third meant being skinned and executed with the harshest penalty.

In the past, great yao eating small yao or enslaving them had been common. It was everyday business for rabbit yao or bird yao to vanish when they strayed into a great yao’s territory, and no one interfered. Now that Bai Chen had made laws with severe punishments, the great yao grumbled but dared not oppose him. Life for the small yao would improve.

The little fox truly had a sharp mind. He had reformed without crippling the great yao, thus avoiding chaos. Seeing that, Li Wuming refrained from interference, only asking mildly, “You now hold the power to legislate. You can use it whenever you wish. But I’m curious — who will you appoint to enforce the law? The Great Bear clan? Or the Red Fox clan?”

The bears were too naive, easy to exploit. The Red Foxes were too cunning. Neither made good choices. Li Wuming mused, “Or do you intend to invite Mountain God Luo to take charge? As an outsider, it won’t be easy for him to meddle in the mountain’s internal affairs.”

Bai Chen understood well. Gazing at the fox cubs who still dared not look him in the eye, he said, “Entrusting it to a single clan will always bring bias. Broad selection is better.”

It sounded much like the human system of recruitment examinations. Li Wuming grew serious. “So you don’t plan to pick only from the upper-ranked yao. But remember, whether it’s imperial courts or sect elders, without overwhelming power, no enforcer can hold others in check.”

“That’s why it’s just a thought for now. Whether it can be realized depends on the outcome of this journey.”

In the end, strength was the basis of status. All Bai Chen could do was give the small yao a chance to rise. Whether they could seize it was up to them.

Li Wuming had seen too many hot-blooded reformers end in tragedy. Every realm had its power-holders, and touching their interests meant death. Excessive corvée labor, land seizure, the sale of offices and titles — all were shameful abuses, but done with the emperor’s sanction. Anyone who exposed them died. Even Li Jiuzhou, the founding general, had been banished to the Great Snow Mountain.

The more idealistic a policy, the less it could be rushed. Having suffered himself, Li Wuming feared Bai Chen would repeat his mistakes. But the beasts’ instinct for survival was more powerful than lofty ideals, which actually allowed Bai Chen to remain calm and pragmatic in governance.

Thus reassured, Li Wuming rose, brushing snow from his robes, and lifted Bai Chen into his arms as he strode toward the waiting yao. Just as he once leapt onto the battlefield for suffering commoners with sword and steed, now he carried only an ancient worn blade. Yet when he lifted his brows at the little fox, he still radiated that same unshakable composure — the air of one who could topple empires with a laugh. “Come. They say all the wonders of the world can be found in Lin’an City. Let’s go broaden our horizons.”

~ Chapter End ~

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