If he’d met that monstrous genius sect master of the Frozen Serenity Sect, the one who reached the Soul Formation realm at twenty six years of age, what would a Dao discussion with him have been like? Even just listening to him, Yang Qing felt he’d get to see a world he could never imagine. After all, outside of that sect master’s staggering achievement, what Yang Qing truly appreciated most about him was the Frozen Serenity Scripture he had created with the assistance of a dragon and an Aurora Winterjade Spruce treefolk member.

What a marvel it would have been to be present when they were creating that art, whose grade, in his opinion, was probably beyond even purple, given how vast and profound it was. After all, that scripture had taken two mythical race members and a supremely talented genius working together to bring it into being.

Yang Qing would also wonder about the landscape. How did it look back then? Was it a true immortal’s paradise?

The Southern Continent, perhaps cursed by its own wealth, or perhaps because it had a propensity to birth highly unstable and volatile cultivators, was a continent plagued by war. And because of how rich it was, and the powerful cultivators it consequently produced, those wars were never small in scale. Given how catastrophic, expansive, and yet how frequent they were, the Southern Continent’s landscape was continuously reshaped every time those wars came.

It was a wonder how the continent and its lands remained viable despite those wars. It was a testament to not only how rich it was but also its resilience. But no matter how resilient and rich the continent was, loss was still loss, and certain losses could never be recovered. Yang Qing had read of countless rare natural Dao treasures that took time and chance to emerge, marked as probably lost forever to those wars, which were ruled as unlikely to ever make another appearance in the lands of the Southern Continent again.

And given the nature of natural Dao treasures and how they were formed, no matter what heights cultivators reached, they could never recreate them, however profound their abilities. It was easier to nurture a saint-grade herb than it was to nurture a monarch-grade natural Dao treasure.

It wasn’t only the treasures that Yang Qing considered the greatest loss, or that featured in his wonderings about how things looked in the days of old. He also wondered about the people, people like the sect master of the Frozen Serenity Sect. How many supremely talented geniuses who could have shaped an entire era were lost to those wars?

He was always fascinated by the world such monstrous geniuses saw. And that curiosity only grew deeper the more he interacted with things tied to them. He’d never seen or been to the Eternal Blossom Sanctuary, but every time he visited the Medical Saint Garden or even just the Order’s Medical Valley and saw the techniques and recipes derived from that sect, and how wondrous they were, he’d be left in awe and wonder at those who had invented them.

He’d never seen or interacted with the Four Sacred Wings, but after his Dao discussion with Senior Shayuang of the Silver Crane Sect and Senior Xie Huang, and seeing the depth of their foundation, a thought had lingered. The Silver Crane Sect was just a subsidiary of a subsidiary, and yet it possessed such depth and breadth of understanding that left him in awe. Then, what was it like with the Four Sacred Wings itself?

The same held true for the Frozen Serenity Scripture and other ancient lineages whose heritage still fed and shaped the present era.

And doubly so for the Treasure Coin Palace. As someone who was continuously struggling and moaning about his finances, his lack thereof, and the mounting costs (all thanks to a certain bird and a stingy employer), it was safe to say that Yang Qing daydreaming about striking it rich and retiring in luxury to live a carefree life of indulging in hobbies was something he did on a regular basis.

Did it interfere with work? Yes. Did those daydreams make him bemoan his luck and circumstances and fill him with soul-crushing despair? Yes. But would he stop? Never in a million years.

Daydreaming about striking it rich was all he had to live on, and all that helped him endure the harsh winters of poverty until he finally broke through to the domain realm and got promoted to the domain courts, where maybe, just maybe, his earnings might get decent enough that he could finally shed that outer skin of poverty and despair.

But until that day came, daydreaming it would be, and it was through that daydreaming that he had first come across the Treasure Coin Palace. As a vindictive individual, still raw from the embarrassment and trauma of that auction that must not be named at the White Rose Pavilion, Yang Qing had gotten sufficiently motivated to dig up their past and everything he could find about them. He wasn’t looking to do anything in particular with whatever he uncovered. He simply wanted to revel in any misfortunes they might have had in their history and take comfort in knowing that even they had gone through hard times, just as he had within the walls of their auction house. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

It was in the process of that very righteous and very much needed and deeply healing act that he came across the Treasure Coin Palace. As it turned out, the White Rose Pavilion was rumored to have ties to the Treasure Coin Palace, only their connection wasn’t as deep as, say, the Silver Crane Sect’s with the Four Sacred Wings.

If one were to make a comparison on the depth of that relationship, the Silver Crane Sect’s connection with the Four Sacred Wings was like that of the palace attendant who handled the Emperor’s chamber pot. Yes, the work was sensitive and important, but not important enough for the Emperor to remember your face or name. When it came to being remembered, it was very much in that grey area of: Mmh, I feel like I have seen that face somewhere.

As for the White Rose Pavilion, its relationship with the Treasure Coin Palace was that of the servant tasked with washing the chamber pot after it had been handed to them by the attendant who brought it from the Emperor’s chambers. An equally important role in the great chain of chamber pots, but lower on the totem pole. The Emperor would never see their face. In fact, he likely wouldn’t even know such a figure existed within the palace walls, let alone what they did.

Such was the relationship between the White Rose Pavilion and the Treasure Coin Palace. The link was there, but it was so distant that the main body of the Treasure Coin Palace would not even know there was such a thing as the White Rose Pavilion connected to them, given the meager role the pavilion played in the Palace’s affairs.

And yet, despite the feebleness of the relationship, the harvest gained from that connection was so vast that, in the entire continent, if the White Rose Pavilion declared itself the number two merchant organization, there would be no merchant organization that dared name itself number one.

Whether it be reach, accumulation, or influence, none came close to the White Rose Pavilion. After all, this was an organization that dared compete with the Two Holy Lands and a few of the other powerful organizations on the continent to acquire a slice of the pie of the precious islands in the Bestial Churning Sea. Only those confident in their strength dared venture there, and the White Rose Pavilion was the only merchant organization that dared go there and actually succeed in acquiring an island, maintaining a solid hold of it for who knows how long.

The Pavilion’s list of achievements did not stop there. On top of the wealth it had, which was rumored to be equal to or above that of the Two Holy Lands, the White Rose Pavilion was also said to have branches spread out not only in every corner of the continent (a feat in and of itself, given the sheer size of the continent and the resources it would take to do such a thing and sustain it), but they also had branches in other continents, specifically the Western Continent, with rumors circulating that their paws had even extended all the way to the Northern Continent.

If that proved true, then the foundations of the White Rose Pavilion ran deeper than most could fathom. Which, given the association, would leave one wondering: was that foundation built by the efforts of the White Rose Pavilion itself, or was it because they were chamber pot cleaners for the wealthiest organization in the entire continent?

Yang Qing knew which explanation he’d go for. Chamber pot cleaning.