A specialty is a specialty—but the problem is, these specialties couldn't be directly traded. They had to be exchanged for Eternal Coins, and the exchange rates were downright outrageous. For the Winged Men, their unique specialty was the Soaring Feather Plume—molted feathers from their own wings. Yet these weren't ordinary feathers; nourished and refined by the spiritual power within their bodies, they had become treasured materials of heaven and earth. Whether forged into war swords or feathered arrows, they were considered top-tier resources, known for their lethality and durability.
Their destructive power was immense.
Every time a Winged Man ascended in cultivation, they would molt. The higher their cultivation, the higher the grade and value of the plumes. These feathers weren't infinite; if one couldn't break through for years or decades, no new feathers would be produced.
So for the Winged Men, these feathers were simultaneously precious and limited. On the trade listing, a Divine Sea Realm plume was now worth only ten Eternal Coins—a laughably low price. Previously, each was casually worth a hundred Eternal Coins.
They were light, tough, and razor-sharp—capable of being wielded as swords.
Under previous trade terms, one plume easily fetched a hundred coins. Now? Just ten. A tenfold drop. It was daylight robbery.
Who could remain calm in the face of such blatant exploitation?
Yet after venting their rage, they had no choice but to accept.
They had no leverage. The upper hand lay entirely with the Great Yi Dynasty. Refuse the trade? Then they would get no food or cultivation resources. In the end, they had to submit to these humiliating terms.
Just like the Winged Men, numerous chieftains of other tribes howled in fury after reading the list—but after the tantrums, they too swallowed their anger and complied.
Launching an attack on Great Yi? In the middle of a snowstorm? No tribe had that kind of power now.
"Hmph, let the humans have their moment. They have their tricks, and so do we."Some tribes began plotting. "We still have human slaves in our tribes. If we're starving, they sure as hell won't be eating. Let's trade them for food instead. One human for a thousand catties of grain—let's see if the Great Yi Dynasty agrees!"
Though supplies were critically low, they had kept most of the human slaves alive, precisely for this moment. They planned to bargain with them now that Great Yi was suppressing specialty prices. They'd treat human lives as rare commodities—"goods of unique value".
And their asking price? One human, one thousand catties of grain. Nothing less. Only food accepted.
This scheme spread quickly across tribal lands. A united front formed—no tribe was allowed to undercut the set price. It was a coordinated strategy, a counter-play against Great Yi.
Naturally, this information soon reached the Great Yi Dynasty—and landed on Yi Tianxing's desk.
"It seems these alien tribes were preparing this all along," said Huang Chengyan, frowning slightly. "Even under disaster, they made sure not to starve the human captives. This was all a ploy. They want to use those human refugees as bargaining chips—for food. Trading one citizen of Great Yi for a thousand catties of grain—they truly see our people as commodities."
Yi Tianxing calmly replied, "Accept the deal."
"Every one of our citizens is worth far more than a mere thousand catties of grain. They're priceless. If that's all it takes to save a life, it's a trade I'm happy to make."
In times of chaos, life is both the cheapest and most expensive thing.
People are the foundation of a nation—without them, there is no future. Even though humans reproduce quickly, it still takes decades to raise a child into a capable adult. And who had twenty years to spare in this age of ceaseless struggle?
Every new citizen was a vital asset. Among the refugees, who knew how many geniuses or heroes were hiding? That made them infinitely more valuable than mere food.
The more people, the more offspring to come. The stronger the root of the human race.
"A trade well worth making," Yi Tianxing concluded.
"Wise, Your Majesty," said Jia Xu, smiling along with the other ministers.
Indeed, without the snowstorm, the alien tribes would've likely chosen to kill their human captives before handing them over to Great Yi. This was a desperate act, driven by survival instinct—choosing to let go of their hostages in exchange for lifeline resources.
A calculated move.
But the tribes had made one assumption—they believed Great Yi couldn't bear to refuse.
The mutual market opened swiftly.
Both sides couldn't afford delays. The tribes had no food; the humans couldn't survive another day. Every moment's delay meant more deaths from hunger and cold.
So, once the terms were agreed, the market opened the next day.
In the trading city of Nameless City, alien tribes began flooding in, dragging along large groups of human captives. They handed them over to Great Yi officials, collected grain and supplies, and hurried away—barely exchanging a word.
No time for chatter. No goodwill. Just transactions.
On Great Yi's side, medical teams quickly checked the refugees, applied Moonwater to stabilize their conditions, and began nourishment protocols. The refugees were emaciated, their bodies critically weak. Without gentle healing, many wouldn't survive. Even if they did, long-term damage would linger.
But Moonwater could reverse that—restore health and eliminate future illness.
The number of refugees was staggering.
In order to obtain enough food, nearly every tribe emptied their entire stock of human captives. At one thousand catties per person, the more, the better.
Just in the first day, over ten million refugees entered Great Yi.
And the stream wasn't stopping. More were coming, nonstop.
But this wasn't just about generosity. The tribes also hoped to consume Great Yi's reserves. After all, more mouths meant more consumption. Given time, the strain could be significant.
Meanwhile, Great Yi had already deployed relief teams to human territories outside its borders, offering aid and comfort to fellow humans.
Beyond Great Yi's borders.
Past the Iron-Blooded Great Wall, there lay a town called Chuyun Town.
The name came from a streak of colorful clouds seen during its founding. It began as Chuyun Village, then grew into a town.
Its mayor, Chen Zhixian, was a scholarly middle-aged man. He once held the rank of Juren (a scholar with imperial honors), and had served as a local magistrate. Using his past prestige, and supported by a band of former constables, he quickly stabilized the settlement and grew it into a proper town.
He was competent, developing civil infrastructure and a local militia.
Most importantly, he acquired a treasure—the Accumulated Thunder Flask (积雷瓶), a spiritual artifact that absorbed worldly energy and produced thunder orbs. These were used to set up a lightning minefield around the town, detonating on contact with beasts.
Thanks to this, Chuyun Town survived repeated assaults and earned renown, attracting tens of thousands of refugees. Eventually, its population reached over 100,000, making it a standout human settlement beyond Great Yi's protection.
But now, with the snowstorm, this once proud population had become a heavy burden.
Grain consumption was astronomical.
After just one month, their stockpile was on the verge of depletion.