PCJ – Chapter 695 Cultivation Also Needs an Economic Foundation

While chaos reigned in the United States and they were running around like headless chickens, Zhang Jiaohua and his group had already flown back to China from Maple Country.

“This time, the Americans really got a taste of their own medicine,” Zhang Yuanbao said gleefully, clearly enjoying the global unrest.

Qi Xia laughed too. “This was the most satisfying mission yet. Revenge served hot! From now on, if anyone dares provoke our Meishan Sect, we’ll just beat them senseless on the spot!”

Even the mute man chimed in with lingering excitement: “We went in hard this time. I doubt anyone will dare mess with us again. By the way, remember last time those guys from the Wokoku Islands stirred up trouble? We never retaliated. Should we have taken care of them while we were at it?”

Nie Tong chuckled. “And here I thought you were the quiet and honest type. Who knew you were so full of sneaky ideas?”

“Even honest folks shouldn’t be bullied,” the mute replied. “The Wokoku Islanders disgusted us—should we just let it go?”

Zhang Yuanbao agreed. “Exactly. Why don’t we take a detour to the Wokoku Islands and turn the place upside down? Let’s even slaughter that mythical Orochi and make hot pot with it!”

“That’s a creature from legends. You think it’s actually real?” Zhang Jiaohua laughed.

“Real or not, if the Wokoku Islanders want to start something, we’ll give them a proper lesson!” Zhang Yuanbao said.

Zhang Jiaohua thought for a moment. “That issue’s been investigated thoroughly. It was people from the Tokuda Corporation behind it. Although they didn’t gain anything, we should still teach them a lesson. But we just got back from Maple Country, so it’s not a good time to act ourselves. Let’s send a separate team to Wokoku and dig up dirt on the Tokuda Corporation.”

After returning to the Xiyun secret realm, Xu Falin once again requested a meeting. But this time, it wasn’t Xu with a personal issue—rather, it was the top-level authorities wanting a word with Zhang Jiaohua. They hoped the incident would stop there, warning that any further escalation could lead to a national conflict—beyond the control of any individual.

Zhang Jiaohua had never intended to make a huge scene—he only wanted to punish the guilty. Now that goal was achieved, he readily agreed to back down and let things rest.

However, Zhang Jiaohua didn’t give up on sending people to Wokoku. Since the Tokuda Corporation’s actions weren’t officially tied to the Wokoku government, any fallout would be considered a private dispute at most.

Unexpectedly, when Zhang’s team arrived in Wokoku, they found the Tokuda Corporation had already collapsed. The deaths of its chairman Tokuda Yuhu and his son Tokuda Longfu triggered a vicious internal feud within the Tokuda family. While they tore each other apart, other corporate giants swooped in and split Tokuda’s assets. Zhang’s cultivators had no one to target and couldn’t just attack widows and orphans. So instead, they packed up all of Tokuda’s technical data and brought it back—consider it interest collected for Meishan Sect.

Tokuda Corporation had its fingers in many industries, and the technical materials were extensive and complete.

Although Meishan Sect had little initial interest in these, they were growing rapidly. Many problems now required mundane, worldly solutions. For example, constructing Yingpan Mountain demanded massive material resources and, therefore, large amounts of funding. The sect couldn’t always rely on donations from affiliated families. As Meishan Sect evolved, more and more secular responsibilities emerged—all of which required money.

The anti-cancer drug developed by Mei Qing had already become Meishan Sect’s cash cow. Most of the funding for Yingpan Mountain came from this miracle drug, which was in high demand and sold at a high price, bringing in steady revenue.

Although Ji Jiaxin majored in journalism, she also minored in economics and management. She had some very sharp insights about the sect’s future.

“If a sect wants to grow and thrive, it must have a complete organizational structure. The most stable structure is a pyramid. Meishan may be a cultivation sect, but it’s not a castle in the sky. It needs an economic foundation, a talent reserve, and a long-term strategic plan. In the future, cultivation sects should also move toward modernization and scientific management,” Ji Jiaxin said confidently.

Zhang Jiaohua was dumbfounded. Yes, he had been to university and held two PhDs—but both were in pure sciences. He was a science geek, and this was way beyond his area. But her words made a lot of sense.

“So how do you suggest Meishan develops?” Zhang asked.

“You’ve got a treasure trove of tech data. We should found the Meishan Group, use that data for industrial development. Many of the techs are patented, so we must apply for our own patents quickly. In R&D, we’ve got a huge edge—remember, we have a team of researchers who don’t age and have endless energy. We can fully digest those technologies, innovate on top of them, and make all of it our own,” Ji Jiaxin said with absolute certainty.

She was inspired by the recent outputs of the Artifact Pavilion—massive breakthroughs in short time: excavators, heavy-lift helicopters, and other equipment used in building the Great Sword Peak of Yingpan Mountain. Any single one of those machines could shock the outside world.

Yet tech nerds like Kong Jiyuan and Kong Fangzhou had no thought of monetizing them to fund the sect. With capital, the sect could handle any future obstacles at Yingpan Mountain.

Zhang Jiaohua, still confused, interrupted her: “I’ll let you take full charge of this. Ask for whatever you need—people, materials, or funds.”

When Zhang reached Yingpan Mountain, the Great Sword Peak had already been built into a towering structure—impressive, but incredibly expensive. Another one like it, and Meishan would be bankrupt. Kong Fangzhou was feeling the pressure.

“We really need to start making money. If we had the funds, this tower would’ve been finished by now. I didn’t realize how costly it would be. We don’t spend on labor, but the materials and refinement cost several times more. We’ve run out of funds for the next phase,” he said with worry.

Zhang replied, “Look at your sad face—who’s that for? I’ll handle the funding. But Jiaxin’s right. We cultivators may not need food, but we still need money. We have to open up new income sources.”

“I think for now, we shouldn’t spread too wide. Let’s start by expanding the production of the cancer drug. Once capacity increases, we can expand supply and accelerate cash flow, solving the funding gap quickly,” Ji Jiaxin proposed.

Zhang had originally opposed expanding supply. Back then, he didn’t care about money and believed cultivators shouldn’t scramble for profits like common people. But reality hit—funding shortages were seriously limiting the sect’s progress.

Soon after, the Meishan Group was formally established. Its subsidiary, Meishan Pharmaceuticals, announced that it would immediately increase production of the cancer miracle drug and begin global distribution soon.

Meanwhile, Zhang Jiaohua faced another dilemma.

Unknowingly, he had served as Deputy County Chief of Daihua County for over a year. Under his leadership, most towns had fully integrated into modern eco-farming and tourism zones. Villages like Yingpan were emerging as shining examples. Zhang’s contribution was undeniable. Based on usual progression, he could soon drop the “Deputy” title—or even become the county’s top leader.

But Party Secretary Wang Zongxian of Bijiang City had other ideas.

“Comrade Zhang Jiaohua’s work in Daihua is outstanding. The county is already on track. Keeping such a capable young cadre in the same environment is a waste of talent. I’ve recommended to the provincial committee to give him a bigger stage,” Wang Zongxian said at a city committee meeting.

This stirred much discussion. If it were a promotion within the county, the city committee could decide. But Wang Zongxian said he recommended Zhang Jiaohua to the province—which hinted at a promotion to deputy mayor. One such position had recently opened up after a retirement.

Mayor Yin Yanmin had planned to fill that spot with his own man—Gao Zhanlin, a district chief with all the right credentials. Promoting him would further consolidate Yin’s influence.

“Secretary Wang, I agree that Zhang Jiaohua is very capable. But we must also consider his age. Yes, he’s a Tsinghua PhD with two degrees—but in terms of life experience and interpersonal skills, he still has room to grow. I’ve also heard he’s been frequently absent lately, which raises concerns,” Yin Yanmin said—giving compliments up front, then knocking Zhang down with one sentence.

Wang countered: “When Zhang first arrived in Daihua to do poverty work, many doubted he could handle becoming Deputy County Chief so young. But look at what he’s achieved! If he can replicate that success in Bijiang, everyone here will benefit.”

The others thought Wang Zongxian might have a point.

Then, Organization Minister Li Changyuan said, “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. We should ask Zhang himself what he wants before making decisions.”

Wang Zongxian frowned, sensing Yin Yanmin’s faction was already making moves to push their own man.

He decided to go to Daihua in person—officially to inspect progress, but really to gauge Zhang Jiaohua’s thoughts.

“Comrade Zhang, the Party and the people have entrusted you with great responsibility. You shouldn’t be leaving your post frequently. I’ve heard you’ve been traveling a lot lately. Young people need to learn patience,” Wang Zongxian said.

“I went to the capital with proper leave approved,” Zhang Jiaohua replied, confused.

“You had leave?” Wang Zongxian asked, surprised.

“Of course,” Zhang Jiaohua said, understanding now why they were suspicious.

Wang Zongxian changed the subject. “We’re considering giving you more responsibilities. I wanted you to become Deputy Mayor, but now many oppose your move to the city.”

“That’s even better,” Zhang said casually. “I haven’t really decided if I want to continue down this path…”

“What?” Wang Zongxian was stunned.

Zhang Jiaohua truly was conflicted. Wang Zongxian grew anxious. If Zhang Jiaohua accepted the position, his influence could revitalize all of Bijiang. Wang Zongxian himself had been stuck in the same role for years, and without some major success, he’d retire right where he was.