A Pawn's Passage

This time, Qi Xuansu did not take a flying ship to the northern part of the New Continent. Instead, he chose a steam-powered ship.

He did not board the ship under his public identity but adopted another.

Unlike the Western Continent, which had been developed and administered by the Holy Court for over a thousand years, the Northern New Continent was still relatively new. Whether in terms of population or organizational cohesion, the Holy Court’s rule over the Northern New Continent remained lax. The various states were almost like independent fiefdoms. Aside from jointly acknowledging the authority of the Holy Court, they even had conflicts among themselves. It was precisely for this reason that the Holy Court ultimately lost the Southern New Continent.

After all, the population was too small, and the size of the New Continent was even larger than the Western Continent. Even though the Holy Court continuously transported immigrants and slaves there, the land remained sparsely populated. At the same time, they had to suppress the frequent uprisings of the natives, stretching their resources thin.

This was not something that could be solved by a few apostles. Perhaps when God intervened, they could defeat local ancient gods or topple an empire. But God alone could not establish effective governance. People were required for that.

For these various reasons, the Holy Court’s influence in the Northern New Continent could not reach the level of pervasive control it enjoyed in the Western Continent. As long as Qi Xuansu did not create too much disturbance and remained careful to conceal his movements, nothing serious would happen to him in the Northern New Continent.

Qi Xuansu wanted to personally see what the Northern New Continent under the Holy Court’s rule truly looked like so he could adjust the strategies for the Southern New Continent based on the actual situation.

Beichen Hall naturally had reports on all these matters, and the compiled documents could fill an entire room. Yet hearing about something a hundred times was not as effective as seeing it once. If reading documents alone were enough to understand reality, the Daoist Order would not need to conduct inspections and investigations.

Deceiving higher-ups, concealing the truth, and falsifying data seemed to be skills that people everywhere could master without instruction. The wind disaster in Poluo had left a deep impression on Qi Xuansu. The numbers reported from below were all false—many were mere estimates or references. In the end, no one truly knew the real figures.

Besides that, there was another reason. Before Qi Xuansu departed, the Imperial Preceptor personally summoned him.

The Imperial Preceptor did not comment on specific affairs but instead spoke about some more abstract matters.

The Imperial Preceptor believed that oftentimes, policies that appeared correct might not necessarily gain the recognition or response of the majority. Thus, a leader must remain vigilant while guiding others forward. One must also frequently look back to ensure that one’s followers do not fall too far behind.

Being one step ahead would garner admiration and fervent adoration; two steps ahead would win sincere approval and response; three steps ahead would lead to misunderstanding and doubt; four steps ahead would result in abandonment and betrayal by the majority; five steps ahead or more would cause one to lose all followers, even being regarded as a madman forced into fighting alone.

This was the tragedy of many great individuals, and it was a reality that could not be ignored.

The Imperial Preceptor’s meaning was simple: every place had its own realities. One should not rigidly apply the Daoist Order’s policies everywhere, even if they were correct. If one assumed the Daoist Order was the most civilized and advanced, insisting on using its advanced experience to guide the Southern New Continent, then it would not be appropriate.

Certainly, the best approach would be to strengthen the foundations so that others could eventually keep pace and move onto the correct path. However, the Daoist Order lacked both the conditions and the time to do so. As such, the best solution was to adapt to local circumstances.

When necessary, he must not act unilaterally and should listen to the opinions of fellow Daoists from the Western Daoist Order.

With that in mind, Qi Xuansu had even more reason to visit the Northern New Continent personally.

His sea voyage was surprisingly smooth. He did not encounter any flood dragons or deep-sea monsters. After all, it was a well-established shipping route.

It was widely known that the largest and most prosperous city in the Western Continent was Londinium, while the most prosperous city on the Northern New Continent was St. York.

This place had originally been the territory of the natives. Westerners had already arrived here as early as the reign of Emperor Shizong of the Wei Dynasty. In the early years of the Great Xuan Dynasty, the Nederlanders purchased several islands from the natives and established a trading post at the river mouth. Forty years later, the Duke of York from the Lune Kingdom seized the area and renamed it St. York, which gradually developed into the most prosperous region. In a sense, St. York even functioned as the capital.

St. York was divided into five boroughs—Central, Kings, Queens, Bronx, and Richmond. It was a typical port city, similar to Jinling Prefecture or Lion City.

The Holy Court established major dioceses, similar to the Daoist Order’s Three Sects’ territorial division. Each diocese had a patriarch, who was comparable to the Daoist Order’s Deputy Grand Master. The patriarch of the Western Continent’s core diocese was the Pope, who took residence in the Holy Seat and controlled the College of Cardinals.

After the Holy Court seized the New Continent, it also established a diocese here, governed by a patriarch. The patriarch’s St. Francis Church stood in the heart of the Central District, so prominent that even the city council had to yield to it.

Yet even with a patriarch stationed there, the city could hardly be called “clean.” Behind its prosperity lay rapid changes, like the rise of the Steam Evangelical Sect, who were heretics formed by the fusion of local witchcraft and foreign faiths. Many of their terrors had yet to be fully understood.

In the Northern New Continent, the Holy Court was not the only power, and the Western Daoist Order was merely a supporting actor.

The fundamental reason for this phenomenon was the large influx of outsiders.

Immigrants from various Western nations, slaves sold into bondage, natives struggling to survive, and immigrants from the Eastern Continent all mingled together, bringing with them the cultures of many different civilizations.

Qi Xuansu stepped onto the deck. By now, his appearance had completely changed.

He no longer wore Daoist robes. Instead, he was dressed in a Westerner’s black formal suit, a white shirt, a finely tailored waistcoat, an expensive pocket watch, a half-height top hat, polished leather shoes that could reflect his image, a monocle attached to a delicate metal chain, and a cane adorned with silver fittings. He even had brown hair, blue eyes, and a full beard.

Qi Xuansu looked like a standard Western gentleman—one of the respectable passengers arriving in the New Continent via a first-class cabin.

For a Martial Arts Practitioner capable of countless transformations, altering his body or appearance was extremely simple. Even the length and color of hair or beard posed no problem.

As for forging identities, it was even less of a challenge for Beichen Hall. They possessed numerous ready-to-use identities, each carefully constructed with details accumulated over decades, as if such a person truly existed in the world, perfectly capable of passing as real.

Leaning on the railing, Qi Xuansu gazed toward the approaching port of St. York. The first thing that caught his eye was a massive statue of a goddess clad in armor, holding a sword and pointing toward the sea. This was the symbol of the Holy Court. Beneath the statue stood the St. Paul Church, second only to the St. Francis Church in terms of prominence.

Next came rows of chimneys spewing thick black smoke that blotted out the sky. Rather than casting the goddess in a radiant light, it created the impression of dark clouds pressing down upon the city, even turning the setting sun in the west blood-red.

People of the Central Plains disliked constructing overly tall buildings, but here, high structures were common, some even going up to 8 stories.

In addition, long railway tracks crisscrossed like a spider’s web. With the sound of steam whistles, black trains belched thick white smoke as they roared across bridges. With Qi Xuansu’s keen eyesight, he could faintly see the passengers inside, including gentlemen dressed like him and ladies wearing veiled hats and holding feather fans.

This was the Steam Evangelical Sect that had arisen within the Holy Court.

Qi Xuansu’s gaze followed the path of the train.

The goddess statue stood in the Richmond District. Although this district was three times the size of the Central District, it had the smallest population. It faced the Central District across the river mouth, with no bridges connecting them, so a ferry was needed to cross over.

The Richmond District contained various parks, church universities, and private residences. Although it could not compare with the Central District, it seemed more cultural.

There were also some Gothic castles and Baroque churches. The tall, dark towers, under the influence of steam and Western industry, created a scene distinctly different from that of the East. Especially at night, when every high tower and spire lit up with lamps, the sight became truly breathtaking.

Steam permeated everything, drifting and lingering through the air. The entire city seemed inseparable from steam. Above the city were flying crafts, different from the Daoist Order’s flying ships. These crafts had obvious mechanical elements and left long white trails of steam behind them.

There were even several small floating cities, as if entire islands had risen from the ground and been placed in the sky. Though their areas were only large enough for standalone castles, churches, and gardens, the sight was awe-inspiring.

The last time Qi Xuansu had seen a similar scene was in the Kunlun Paradise and the Lingshan Paradise, yet this was not entirely the same. That was because steam vented from beneath these floating islands, condensing into clouds and making it appear as if they were built upon the clouds themselves.

This was a civilization entirely different from that of the East.

Steam, alchemy, and machinery had permeated every corner of this city, just as the Daoist Order’s talismans and formations permeated every crevice of cities in the East.

Qi Xuansu withdrew his gaze from the distance and looked again toward the approaching port.

Masts and smokestacks crowded his vision as wooden sailing ships and ironclad ships were docked side by side.

Here, two entirely different worlds collided.

On one side was the pier for passenger ships, which was spotless and orderly. Carefully laid brick roads stretched along the dock, kerosene lamps lined both sides of the path, iron chains served as railings, and refined horse-drawn carriages waited nearby. Even the carriage drivers were neatly dressed.

On the other side were the cargo docks—filled with ragged laborers, stacks of crates and empty barrels, warehouses, and carts moving back and forth. People were shouting, bells were ringing, and steam was blowing incessantly. Not far away from these docks stretched an endless expanse of low shanties, emitting the nauseating stench of foul water and dead fish.