“It doesn’t have much to do with the capital. Usually, only those from major sects or big families care about literacy, since they have a deep heritage.” Lily Carter thought for a moment. “Ordinary people can basically read too. Bookshops sell basic cultivation manuals, after all, so you have to be able to understand them. Besides, what if you get lucky one day and obtain some inheritance—wouldn’t it be maddening if you couldn’t read it? Anyway, that’s about it. No one really cares about all those flowery things. I remember, some year, someone sent a florid congratulatory essay to the emperor, and the imperial comment was: ‘Utter nonsense.’ It became a joke throughout the land, so don’t imitate that.”

“So, besides secret manuals, do you have any other books?”

“Do tales of the martial world count? Founding histories?”

“Well, I suppose they barely count.”

John Smith suddenly felt that the literacy rate in this world might be shockingly high. After all, everyone needs secret manuals, and their reading comprehension is probably not low—definitely not the illiteracy he’d originally imagined. It’s just that they treat writing purely as a tool for martial arts, valuing its practical use, and haven’t developed it into literature. They think ornate writing is completely meaningless. In this kind of atmosphere, literature is probably the most marginalized subject; poetry and songs are basically at the level of folk tunes, and popular novels haven’t really developed yet.

John Smith found this world increasingly interesting... Their utilitarian approach to writing actually made a lot of sense, but people here didn’t seem to realize that playing with words could have effects no less powerful than seductive arts, and that words have a terrifying power to spread and brainwash—something other methods can hardly achieve. What John Smith cared about wasn’t literature; in his field, what came to mind was propaganda.

With all their competing schools of thought, they still hadn’t discovered the power of written publicity. Especially this sect, which boasts song and dance and seductive arts, yet doesn’t use these advantages for promotion or celebrity endorsements, treating them only as side disciplines to martial arts.

Wait, they do have celebrities—the celebrity is Emily Smith. If people are drawn to join the sect, or want to learn about the Xingyue Sect’s way, at least ninety-nine percent of that is due to Emily Smith’s influence. Is that why they’re so obsessed with climbing the martial path?

Still, as the saying goes, all roads lead to the same destination. It’s just that in this world, everyone stubbornly believes that strength is the only foundation for everything. That’s not wrong in essence, but it’s a bit too rigid.

John Smith even thought that, with the Xingyue Sect’s foundation, if he were in charge, there would be so many tricks to use—maybe he could bring earth-shaking changes to this world within a few years.

Pulling the whole world into a rhythm he’s good at, then using his wealth of experience to defeat them—maybe that’s what a true transmigrator should do?

John Smith looked downstairs; there were few guests in the main hall. Someone was hugging a wine girl while demonstrating martial moves, and the girl would even stretch out her delicate hand to spar with him a few times—accompanied by the soft music of strings and flutes, the scene was utterly comical, and John Smith couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

What an interesting world—he was becoming more and more intrigued.

At this moment, Sarah Miller came in carrying a wooden tray, with a few small dishes and a pot of wine. Lily Carter looked at her with a half-smile: “Why are you serving the food yourself? Could it be you’ve taken a liking to our Mr. John Smith?”

Sarah Miller smiled with pursed lips. “With the young sect master here, of course we can’t let those clumsy servants disturb the refined atmosphere.”

John Smith tasted a dish—it was quite good. It seemed that basic desires like food develop quickly no matter where you are...

The wine was even better... Smooth and mellow, with a rich aroma that went straight to the heart. Though not strong, its ancient flavor quietly lingered. Even though he was in an elegant room, John Smith felt for a moment as if he were by a mountain stream, with clear water flowing—the effect was almost magical.

After all, this world had a touch of the fantastical; some things just couldn’t be judged by common sense.

On the other side, Lily Carter seemed to be in a bad mood. She picked at her food a few times and then put down her chopsticks, sighing, “Master went to the Six Gates. I wonder how things are going.”

Sarah Miller smiled and said, “With the sect leader handling it personally, there’s nothing in this world that can’t be done.”

Lily Carter glanced at her. “Everyone knows Xiahou Di isn’t right in the head. Saying nice things like that is pointless, senior sister.”

Sarah Miller seemed a bit embarrassed and lowered her head in silence.

Lily Carter continued, “When we were kids, I remember you weren’t the type to curry favor. Otherwise, you might have joined the inner sect long ago... You seem really different this time...”

Sarah Miller remained silent.

Even John Smith, who had been immersed in the exotic food, looked up at her. Compared to her earlier eagerness to flirt, at this moment Sarah Miller seemed like a completely different person—her silence surprised him. The Sarah Miller who exuded seductiveness all over seemed like nothing more than a fleeting glimpse in a dream.

In this sect, everyone really did have many faces. Is that what “Xingyue”—star and moon—means, to be ever-changing?

Chapter 10: The Crisis at Hundred Flowers Courtyard

Lily Carter spoke again, “Senior sister, are you in some kind of trouble? You can tell me if you want.”

Sarah Miller smiled. “No, young sect master, you’re overthinking it.”

Lily Carter pouted. “No trouble? Then why were you in such a hurry to flirt with him? What’s so good about him, anyway? He’s just a jinx.”

“...” John Smith continued eating.