Chapter 764: I Give Birth to All the People in the World Single-handedly

Chapter 764: All Children of the World Shall Be Born of Me Alone

“Everyone must cultivate dual cultivation—it is the sect’s official policy! It benefits immortals above and you below! A truly magnificent blessing!”

“Don’t make me catch any of you lagging behind in dual cultivation later, forced to wear those Dual Cultivation Belts issued by the Support Division, automatically paired off every day like clockwork…”

As Zhang Yu listened to the instructor’s lecture, he sighed inwardly: “Damn it… How did Wanfa Sect end up like this?”

Though he’d already heard, before leaving Wanfa University, that Yun Zhiguang was preparing to establish a new Dual Cultivation College within the university—and though he’d braced himself somewhat for what might come—he hadn’t truly grasped the extent of it until now, standing in this very classroom.

In his heart, Zhang Yu muttered bitterly, “At this rate, what difference is there between our Wanfa Sect and the Hehuan Sect?”

Hearing his thoughts, Fu Ji couldn’t help but interject, “What are you laughing at?”

“I’m not laughing!” Zhang Yu snapped. “I’m furious! Furious that Wanfa Sect has sunk to this!”

Zhan Xian sighed. “The path of dual cultivation—licentious, disorderly—is no sustainable foundation for Wanfa Sect. But this is merely a prelude… a setup for what comes next.”

Zhang Yu frowned. “What comes next?”

A sudden realization struck him. In his mind, he whispered, “Could it be… another matter of Dao-lineage?”

Just then, the instructor on stage shifted topics.

“A certain demon immortal of Tianyao Sect has made a grand vow: ‘All children of the world shall be born of me alone! Until heaven and earth are filled with my offspring, I shall never claim sovereignty!’”

“This demon immortal seeks to found a Dao-lineage of Natural Procreation…”

Zhang Yu was stunned anew. Just when he thought he’d grown accustomed to the absurdities of Kunxu, this wretched place always managed to conjure something even more outrageous.

“What does ‘all children of the world shall be born of me alone’ even mean?” Zhang Yu clawed at his scalp in disbelief. “What in the heavens is this supposed to accomplish?!”

Zhan Xian explained calmly, “This demon immortal intends to monopolize natural procreation entirely. In the future, every naturally conceived child in the world will be born from its body.”

“By controlling this singular point, it would gain absolute dominion over the bloodlines, heredity, and seed of countless cultivators across the realm.”

Zhang Yu drew a deep breath, incredulous. “Is such a thing even possible?”

“It was nearly impossible before,” Zhan Xian continued, “but now—aside from Tianyao Sect—natural birth rates among all other sects and human populations have hovered near zero for quite some time.”

“Given this reality, Tianyao Sect genuinely stands a chance of establishing its Dao-lineage of Natural Procreation.”

“Of course,” he added dryly, “no major sect will simply stand by and allow it.”

As if on cue, the instructor declared from the podium: “The actions of this demon immortal are nothing short of calamitous for the world! To thwart its ambition, all sects now actively encourage natural childbirth. A bounty is awarded for every child born!”

Hearing this, Zhang Yu couldn’t help but wonder silently, “So now the great sects are competing… to see who can produce the most offspring? And why don’t they just deploy immortal arts technology for mass production? That’s far more efficient.”

In his view, given the ruthless pragmatism of the Ten Great Sects, they’d surely prefer breeding factories—industrialized reproduction—over this sentimental nonsense.

But Zhan Xian corrected him: “Tianyao Sect’s Dao-lineage is strictly confined to natural procreation—especially among sentient beings. Their entire reproductive technology evolved from natural means.”

“Those produced in factories via assembly lines and mass methods are called ‘Material-People.’ That’s the specialty of Youming Palace—a different immortal-arts pathway altogether.”

“They supply Material-People to every sect: high volume, superior quality, excellent cost-efficiency. They’ve crushed all competitors and now dominate the market for such constructs across the sect hierarchy.”

Zhang Yu exhaled heavily, momentarily speechless.

Just then, Fu Ji murmured, “But even with bounties… would sect disciples really be willing to bear bloodline heirs?”

“Naturally not,” Zhan Xian affirmed. “For sect members, producing offspring diminishes one’s own potential on the immortal path—the higher your cultivation, the greater the loss.”

“Moreover, if a bloodline heir’s genetic essence is collected, it becomes material for curses, analysis… even replication.”

“Between the financial burden of procreation duties and the risk of genetic leakage, the drawbacks far outweigh any benefit.”

“And even if you raise a child to adulthood, how many ever surpass their parent? For mid-to-high-tier cultivators, it’s virtually impossible.”

“Thus, investing in descendants rarely yields returns. Most cultivators deem it poor value—far better to spend that wealth extending their own lifespan.”

Zhang Yu blinked in surprise. “Procreation duties? The sect actually enforces that?”

“Of course,” Zhan Xian said matter-of-factly. “Did you think the sect would raise them for you?”

Fu Ji sighed. “Procreation is a vast industry. By legislating mandatory procreation duties, the sect shifts all costs onto the cultivators themselves. Why would they shoulder it?”

“They make disciples spend their own resources to produce heirs—creating a whole new market—while simultaneously boosting a birthrate that had nearly hit zero, increasing the sect-layer population, and cultivating more talent…”

Zhan Xian sounded almost amused. “You’re quite the schemer for an evil deity. But in truth, no matter how much the sect encourages it, I doubt disciples will willingly sacrifice their immortal potential for heirs.”

“In the end, the pressure to meet natural birth quotas will fall on non-sect locals—or outsourced laborers.”

His voice grew colder. “And in extreme cases… Wanfa Sect might follow Youming Palace or White Bone Sect—breeding heirs only to dispose of them immediately after birth, treating them as pure raw material.”

“Breed, kill, sell—eliminating all rearing costs. That would be the cheapest way to counter Tianyao’s new Dao-lineage and artificially inflate birthrates.”

Zhang Yu felt a chill crawl down his spine. He could already envision the Ten Great Sects locked in brutal competition, deploying ever more ruthless schemes against one another.

And beneath it all lay the true engine of conflict: the war between Dao-lineages.

Especially today—his very first day back at the sect—three lectures had already laid bare the battlefield.

The first subtly promoted a Gambling Dao-lineage.

The second concealed a Pharmaceutic Dao-lineage.

The third openly opposed Tianyao’s Natural Procreation Dao-lineage.

Each left Zhang Yu with a growing unease.

“From the moment new disciples step through the sect gates,” he realized, “they’re already being indoctrinated into competing Dao-lineages. The struggle begins here.”

Zhan Xian agreed. “Precisely. Establishing a Dao-lineage—and using it to monopolize—is the ultimate profit for immortals. The most visionary, lucrative investment imaginable.”

“The Ten Immortal Emperors each founded a Great Dao-lineage. Beneath them, countless minor lineages emerge, funded and codified into laws. Step by step, they march from Human Dao toward Heavenly Dao—seeking to replace Heaven’s order with their own, monopolizing industry after industry, phenomenon after phenomenon.”

“For this reason,” he concluded, “the Ten Sects are locked in endless strife and fierce rivalry.”

Zhang Yu’s eyes suddenly sharpened. “But… even within a single sect, don’t these Dao-lineages conflict with one another?”

He recalled the previous lectures. Silently, he analyzed: “The Gambling Dao-lineage thrives on temptation—exploiting greed through promised rewards.”

“But the Pharmaceutic Dao-lineage… through the Dharma Realm, can directly alter perception, inducing states of extreme discipline.”

“Doesn’t that mean… taking Pharmaceutic Elixirs could neutralize gambling’s allure?”

“And if the Pharmaceutic Dao-lineage spreads widely, wouldn’t the Gambling Dao-lineage inevitably weaken?”

“Correct,” Zhan Xian affirmed. “No matter how vast a sect grows, it remains divided into factions—mountains, halls, separate kitchens. Resources are never shared equally.”

“Beneath each Immortal Emperor’s Great Dao-lineage nest countless minor ones.”

“Some support each other; others oppose. Yet no matter how fiercely they compete, the victor always remains within the Emperor’s grasp.”

“In the end, every completed minor lineage only strengthens the Emperor’s Great Dao—expanding their monopoly over the world…”

As Zhan Xian spoke, Zhang Yu drew a slow breath. He saw the entire sect transformed into a vast, circulating pond. No matter how desperately the fish struggled or leapt—even if one soared over the legendary Dragon Gate—it would only be hooked by the Immortal Emperor.

Yet perhaps… only by being hooked could one escape the pond entirely—transforming from fish into fisherman on the shore.

Meanwhile, the instructor had moved on to outsourcing: “If your accompanying outsourced personnel give birth, you—as their supervisor—receive a bonus.”

“And if you voluntarily contribute your genetic data to let them bear your offspring… you’ll receive another bonus…”

As the instructor spoke, Zhang Yu suddenly noticed many nearby sect elders glancing his way.

His heart lurched. “These bastards… are they eyeing my outsourced staff—eyeing Ye Xingli?!”

“Don’t tell me they’re planning to use Senior Sister to claim breeding bonuses?!”

In an instant, memories flooded his mind—high-scoring students humiliating the lowly, the rich trampling the poor, high-tier cultivators exploiting the weak.

He could already picture these sect lords conspiring to suppress him, then endlessly harvesting bonuses through Ye Xingli.

“You scum!” Zhang Yu seethed inwardly. “I’ll never allow it…”

Just as Zhang Yu was thinking this, a message suddenly arrived from someone.

“Hello, classmate Zhang Yu? Would you be interested in mentoring one of my outsourced employees?”

“This is her [photo].”

Staring at the photo the other party had sent, Zhang Yu was astonished once again. “Wait… what on earth is going on here?”

In the next moment, even more sect members began sending him inquiries—and photos.

“Please dual-cultivate with my outsourced employee.”

“This is my younger sister—could you spare her some seeds?”

“What do you think of my mom? And here’s a photo of my dad.”

“You’ve just arrived at the sect—it’s the perfect time for you to find a family…”

Gazing at the parade of photos—some slender as swallows, others plump as peonies—Zhang Yu had to admit: the cultivators of the sect tier possessed impeccable taste, far surpassing those lowly outer disciples below.

“Who ever said sect elites were no good?” Zhang Yu sighed inwardly. “People really shouldn’t harbor prejudices… Sigh… How am I supposed to refuse them? They’re way too enthusiastic.”

Just then, Zhanxian spoke up: “These people are after child support payments.”

“If you produce offspring with their outsourced workers—or even their relatives—then according to the rules of the Ten Thousand Dharmas Sect, you’ll be obligated to pay monthly child support.”

“In the past, some cultivators had their bloodline data stolen and ended up fathering countless descendants, forced to drain their cultivation resources paying alimony until their very potential for immortality was sapped dry.”

“For a while, it was quite fashionable for sect members to push their subordinates to bear children with promising outsiders.”

“Nowadays, nobody in the sect falls for that trick anymore—but since you’ve just come up from the lower realms, they figured it might still work on you.”

Hearing this, Zhang Yu felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. His heart clenched in alarm: “Damn it… There really aren’t any decent folks in the sect, are there? We’ve only just met today, and they’re already targeting me?”

Zhanxian explained: “Because you’ve ascended from the lower strata, there’s an inherent information gap. They assume you’re unfamiliar with how things truly work inside the sect. To them, you’re prime customer material.”

“Loans, dual cultivation, marriage, medicinal elixirs—they’ll try to sell you every product under the sun.”

“Contempt? They rarely feel that. They simply want to extract every last drop of your cultivation resources…”

“It’s like mosquitoes spotting a blood-filled pouch—their instinct is to suck it dry, down to the very last drop.”

“That’s just their nature…”

At that moment, gazing at the smiling faces and polite, gentle messages flooding his screen, Zhang Yu could only see gaping maws—each sect member eager to tear a chunk of flesh from his body.

Glancing sideways at Yu Xinghan, who was still grinning obliviously, Zhang Yu realized immediately that he, too, had been contacted. He hurriedly sent a warning message.

Upon reading Zhang Yu’s message, Yu Xinghan shivered involuntarily. “The sect is truly dangerous,” he thought grimly. “On my very first day here, I nearly had my cultivation potential drained dry.”

After rejecting invitation after invitation from these so-called “sect elites,” Yu Xinghan thought he caught fleeting flashes of disappointment on the faces around him.

As the third lecture ended, the fourth began without delay.

The instructor on stage declared: “In the old days, overtime was rampant in the sect. Everyone worked twenty-four hours straight, day and night—an unbearable grind.”

“The Immortal Quanqin once asked: ‘What kind of immortal path is this? If everyone is exhausted by endless labor, when will they have time to cultivate themselves? How can we possibly advance the frontiers of the Dao?’”

“So Immortal Quanqin launched a sect-wide reform, banning pointless overtime and mandating that all daily tasks be completed within four hours.”

“The remaining time must be devoted to study and cultivation—only thus can one walk the true path.”

“And if you exceed the allotted time, you’ll be fined. The longer the overtime, the heavier the penalty. Efficiency, therefore, is paramount.”

“Ever since, the sect has never required overtime again…”

Hearing this, Zhang Yu couldn’t help but curse inwardly: “I knew it… So that’s why they only ‘work’ four hours a day—it’s because they’ve compressed a full day’s labor into those four hours! Damn clever…”

While Zhang Yu grumbled to himself, the instructor continued: “All of you who’ve passed the entrance exam surely understand the importance of money. Everyone wants to earn it—it’s essential for ascending the immortal path.”

With a light tap of his finger, the instructor projected a vast list onto the air. Floating prominently were the names of countless immortal sect cultivation manuals.

Not just inheritable-grade or strategic-grade manuals—even sect-founding and world-opening level techniques were displayed.

Zhang Yu’s heart quickened as he read the titles at the very top:

“The Grand Compendium of the Great Dao,”

“The Exegesis from Beyond Heaven,”

“The Treatise on Inconceivable Dharmas,”

“The Precious Scroll Revealing the Ultimate Source of All Dharmas”…

Each was a legendary scripture—a direct path to Level 100, the pinnacle of cultivation. These were the supreme texts of the Ten Thousand Dharmas Sect, forged from the blood, sweat, and wisdom of countless immortals and cultivators, even spearheaded by Immortal Emperors themselves.

Yet each came with a staggering price tag—billions of immortal coins, millions of merit points. Zhang Yu could only sigh in despair.

“I’ll earn about 2,000 immortal coins a month as a Grade One Sect Affairs Officer in the Bureau of Dharma Regulation,” he thought bitterly. “Relying solely on that dead-end salary…”

Zhanxian reminded him: “After all taxes, you’ll take home at most 1,000 immortal coins per month. Of course, that’s sufficient for Nascent Soul cultivation within the sect tier.”

“But if you wish to advance further—to reach higher ranks, higher realms, and set your sights on world-opening manuals—that income is woefully inadequate.”

Zhang Yu silently agreed. Just moments ago, he’d checked the price of an immortal-grade spiritual root. Even the cheapest one, plus the root-conversion surgery, would cost over 20,000 immortal coins.

And he knew full well: that expense was unavoidable.

He glanced at his Ten Thousand Dharmas Manager report. The self-diagnostic result glared back at him—“Heavenly Spiritual Root”—bold and conspicuous.

He’d purchased that Heavenly Root back when he was still at Foundation Establishment in the First Layer. If it had seemed unremarkable during university days, now, within the sect, clinging to such a basic root would draw far too much attention.

“Though Concealment Talismans and the Scripture of Dao Seeds can hide my immortal-grade root, this Heavenly Root still stands out too much in the sect. If someone takes notice… it’ll become a fatal flaw.”

Worse, the faster his cultivation progressed, the more glaringly inadequate his humble Heavenly Root would appear.

If some great power in the sect suddenly decided to investigate him on a whim, it could spell disaster.

“I need to scrape together enough money as soon as possible and replace this root with an immortal-grade one.”

But checking his loan limit, he saw he could borrow at most 10,000 immortal coins—not nearly enough for the upgrade.

“Is it because they think my current assets and earning capacity in the sect tier are too low that my credit line is so pitiful?” he wondered.

As Zhang Yu pondered, the instructor resumed speaking: “To earn more money, you must finish your work within four hours each day and avoid fines—that’s non-negotiable.”

“But that alone isn’t enough. If you truly want to earn more, you must master a far more efficient method of working.”

(There are too many details to organize when changing maps—today’s word count is a bit short. Once this busy period passes, I’ll try to update more.)

(End of chapter)