Unintended Immortality-Chapter 509: Migration to the North

In the spring of the eleventh year of Mingde, the Great Yan empire began relocating the populace from several southern prefectures to the north to replenish the population lost over years of war and turmoil.

Despite the underlying tensions within the imperial court, the rampant rumors spreading throughout the land, and the increasing disturbances caused by monsters and demons, Great Yan still demonstrated remarkable efficiency in executing its policies.

Upon receiving imperial orders, the local governments of Luozhou, Luzhou, Jingzhou, and Xuzhou swiftly mobilized. They organized large groups of struggling citizens—those barely able to feed themselves—into migration teams.

For most, even the simple promise of two full meals a day on the journey was enough to make them willing to head north, let alone the prospects of resettlement and stability upon arrival.

All the talk, in the end, boiled down to just one simple truth—they were simply seeking a way to survive.

At the same time, the government meticulously prepared the settlements in the migration zones.

As waves of immigrants arrived at Yuezhou, the primary relocation hub, they were temporarily settled under the supervision of local officials, either in newly established military-style farming colonies or in abandoned villages and towns.

In order to help them resume production as quickly as possible, the prosperous Great Yan showed no hesitation in its generosity. Not only did it promise to distribute farming tools, seeds, and oxen for free, as well as reduce or exempt taxes, but it also allocated farmland based on the population count.

Furthermore, in some of the more desolate areas, a policy of 'allowing cultivation without a fixed acreage limit' was introduced. This meant that the government provided grain, money, seeds, and farming tools, while exempting taxes for five years. Any land reclaimed by migrants during this period would fully belong to them as permanent property.

Additionally, a Department of Agriculture was established to oversee and manage the land reclamation efforts of the migrants.

By the time Song You reached Guangzhou, he had already encountered one of the migrant convoys heading north.

Most of these people had come from Luzhou and Luozhou, which were closer to Guangzhou. Led by government officials and bailiffs, the migrants formed long, winding processions across the mountain paths, stretching like serpentine trails as they slowly moved toward the north.

Song You’s Daoist robe naturally made it easy for him to connect with people. When he mentioned his ability to ward off evil spirits and exorcize ghosts, the accompanying officials and bailiffs were all too happy to welcome him. Along the journey, they frequently engaged him in conversation.

At that moment, the Daoist led his horse to a small hilltop. Taking advantage of the higher ground, he looked both ahead and behind.

The setting sun bathed the travelers in golden light. The wind carried the distant sounds of horses neighing and sparse rustling through the vast plains.

From his vantage point, the migration convoy stretched so far that neither its front nor its end could be seen. Many of the people wore tattered clothing, some barely covered at all. They trudged forward with whatever support they could find—leaning on bamboo staffs or wooden sticks, stumbling along with the crowd.

Those slightly better off carried bundles of worn belongings or basket packs on their backs. The more fortunate ones pulled wooden carts laden with their possessions. Families with children and elders gathered together, forming the great, slow-moving procession.

All of them were simply struggling to secure a means of survival.

The procession moved at a painfully slow pace, often prompting officials to urge them forward.

Song You had seen a similar long march before—on the northern border, during the campaigns of the northern garrison.

At a glance, the two might have looked the same. But upon closer inspection, they were worlds apart.

The Daoist stood there for a long time, quietly observing. This migration was unprecedented in scale—the largest in recorded history. And witnessing it unfold was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Even in the annals of history, this migration would be recorded as a momentous event, its impact stretching far into the future.

This northern migration would transform the entire cultural landscape of the north. It wouldn’t just affect desolate places like Yuezhou, which had long become a land devoid of life, but even Yanzhou—where remnants of the population still survived—would experience drastic shifts in its culture and demographics due to the influx of these southern immigrants.

Over time, these groups would clash, integrate, and eventually settle into a new identity, forming the north as it would be recognized centuries later.

In the distant future, scholars who studied history would come to realize that these profound changes originated from this very moment.

By then, the people of the north—especially those of Yuezhou—would likely be the descendants of these very migrants Song You was seeing now.

What would the historians of the future say about this period? How would they describe this mass migration?

That was unknown.

All Song You knew was that he stood atop the small hill for a brief moment, letting the wind brush past him, before quietly leading his horse back down, continuing forward alongside the ancestors of future generations—toward their new home.

Beside him, his cat had already disappeared into the tall spring grass, leaving only the occasional rustling of grass blades as a sign of her presence.

Over time, Song You had become familiar with many of the migrants. As soon as he rejoined them, a man leaning on his walking staff turned his head to ask, “Sir, I heard you’ve been to Yuezhou before?”

Hearing this, Song You did not delay in responding. “I went there once, a few years ago.”

“What’s it like there? Can people survive?”

“Yuezhou is a land with good fengshui, rich in spiritual qi and fertile soil. The only reason it’s desolate now is because years of war emptied its population. When I traveled through Yuezhou, it was autumn-winter. I carried little food with me, yet I could hunt wild pheasants and rabbits by the roadside for meat, and gather wild fruits and vegetables to sustain myself.” Song You answered truthfully.

He continued, “There are also many abandoned houses. As long as the wild grass is cleared and the bones of the deceased are buried, they can be lived in once more.”

“Well, that sounds like a good place.” An elderly man with a walking staff nodded thoughtfully.

However, another person nearby furrowed his brows, voicing concern. “But I’ve heard that good lands are either already occupied or haunted by demons and monsters. Some people on the road were saying that the demons in the north are far more vicious than those in the south.”

“But we haven’t seen any demons on our journey,” a middle-aged man carrying a child on his back pointed out.

“That’s because we’ve been traveling in large numbers. Plus, we passed through Guangzhou earlier. I heard that Guangzhou has a place called Mount Wu, home to many sword cultivators. Those swordsmen may not be literal immortals, but each one has the courage to slay demons and exorcize ghosts. That’s why we haven’t encountered any trouble so far,” the man explained. “But now, we’ve entered Yuezhou.”

At these words, worry spread among the crowd, and many turned their gazes toward the Daoist.

Song You, leaning on his bamboo staff, continued walking at an unhurried pace. Behind him, his jujube-red horse followed leisurely, its saddlebag appearing slightly heavier than before. His calico cat trotted about, darting around as if she had not a care in the world.

Patiently, Song You reassured the people, telling them that the great demon of Yuezhou had already been dealt with, and that the remaining minor creatures were nothing to fear. He urged them to rest easy.

Yet, the creases of worry on their brows did not fade.

Just then...

A sudden commotion erupted ahead.

Like waves rippling outward, the disturbance traveled from the front ranks to the back. By the time it reached those at the rear, they had no idea what had caused it—only that the people ahead were panicking. And seeing others panic, they too became afraid.

“What’s going on?”

“What happened?”

“There's a demon!”

“Huh? A demon!”

The cries spread rapidly through the migration convoy. Many people in the back hadn't even seen anything, yet they panicked more than those at the front. Countless individuals rushed into the forests, while others instinctively shielded their children.

As some people at the front retreated, those behind followed in a wave of fear, stepping back one after another.

Only the Daoist remained calmly curious, gazing ahead as he steadily walked forward, bamboo staff in hand.

As he moved closer to the front, he finally asked, “What happened up there?”

“There's a demon!”

“What kind of demon? Did it harm anyone?”

Some of the people recognized him, while others—though unfamiliar—saw that he was a Daoist and quickly explained.

“It’s a monkey! It was sitting in a tree, watching us pass by. At first, we thought it was just an ordinary mountain monkey. But then, all of a sudden, it spoke in human language.”

“And where is the monkey now?” ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

“One of the officials was quite brave—he shouted at it, and the monkey ran off into the forest. But it was still hiding in the trees just moments ago, watching us.”

“Did it say anything? Did it try to harm anyone?”

“It didn’t harm anyone...”

“Then what did it say?”

At this, the man speaking suddenly widened his eyes, glancing around uneasily as if afraid to repeat the words.

After a brief hesitation, he gritted his teeth and finally spoke the truth, “The monkey demon said ‘The Great Yan empire is doomed. The Chen family is rising. You all came here just in time to be caught between the north and the south. If war breaks out, won’t you suffer again?’”

The man even mimicked the monkey’s tone as he spoke.

It sounded both genuinely confused and strangely well-intentioned, as if offering sincere advice.

“...”

Song You fell silent.

His gaze shifted toward the forest, scanning the trees. The woods were eerily quiet—there was no sign of the monkey.

When he turned back, he saw that panic had spread throughout the crowd. Even some government officials and bailiffs looked visibly shaken.

In the midst of the fear, Song You stood out—his Daoist robe flowing, his expression composed. Unconsciously, everyone had begun looking to him for guidance, their eyes filled with uncertainty and expectation.

“What should we do, Daoist Master?”

“Is that demon dangerous?”

“Is what it said true?”

“Which 'Chen family' is it talking about...?”

“Can we still find stability in the north?”

“...”

The anxious voices of the crowd filled Song You's ears. Their genuine fear and uncertainty were evident in their expressions.

The Daoist furrowed his brows in thought—

They had already reached Yuezhou, but how had a mere monkey demon by the roadside come to know such information? And what was its true intention in saying such things?

Snapping back to the present, he finally spoke to reassure the people.

“A demon’s words are not to be trusted. Besides, it's nothing more than a wild mountain monkey—at most, be cautious at night. Gather dry firewood and keep the fires burning, take turns standing guard, and it won’t be able to cause any trouble. Since you’ve already come this far to Yuezhou, there’s no need to let your worries get the best of you. Focus instead on how to build a stable life here.”

Pausing briefly, he added, “After all, isn’t it because you couldn’t survive in your old homes that you traveled thousands of li to get here? No matter how vicious a demon is, it’s not crueler than starvation.”

Hearing this, the crowd began to settle down.

“The Daoist is right...”

“What’s the worst that could happen? Just death.”

“We were dying back home anyway!”

“If that demon even fears the officials, then it can't be all that powerful. If it dares to come back tonight, we’ll kill it and eat its brain! A monkey that has gained sentience—who knows? Maybe eating it will make us immortal!”

“...”

Song You chose to ignore that last remark and calmly said, “Everyone, keep moving forward. The sun hasn’t set yet—it’s not safe to camp here. We can cover more ground before nightfall.”

As he spoke, he glanced toward the sky.

The birds had long flown away, and a lone drifting cloud wandered lazily above.

Only one swift swallow rode the wind into the distance.

The great migrant convoy finally resumed its slow, steady march forward. Though their hearts were still uneasy, their fear gradually subsided as they focused on the journey ahead.

As night fell, the group set up camp.

Some of the migrants, better prepared, had carried or packed a set of old blankets for warmth. Those who had nothing simply relied on the government’s food rations and huddled together for warmth. The spring night was cool but not freezing, and staying close was enough to get through until morning. Besides, with the recent demon rumor, gathering together gave them a greater sense of security.

Across the mountain slopes, dozens of campfires flickered like scattered stars.

As the mountain wind swept through, embers danced like falling meteors across the ground.

“Flap, flap, flap...”

A swallow suddenly swooped through the night and landed on the Daoist’s shoulder, whispering softly into his ear.

Without hesitation, the Daoist gripped his bamboo staff and quietly left the camp.

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