The Scrapyard of the World
“Heh, what a dump.”
‘It’s like a visual representation of wealth inequality.’ That was Pyo Rip’s impression as he looked down at the city from the high sky. The massive wall served as a clear dividing line between the skyscrapers and the slums. Unlike the city inside the wall, which was a city that never slept even in the dead of night, the slums outside showed a stark difference in light intensity.
“So that’s City Ellydos.”
He whispered the city’s name to himself. Pyo Rip knew the name thanks to the learning process he’d undergone at the factory earlier. Although there were many holes and gaps in his knowledge, he had managed to acquire the general common sense and various languages of Ellydos without much difficulty. Aside from that, his knowledge was biased toward military regulations, combat methods by specialty, and operational understanding. His historical knowledge, in particular, could be summarized in three sentences.
‘I was basically just injected with the major plot points of the last 700 years.’
In the genre Pyo Rip used to categorize this world, it was a medieval fantasy—a world where a goddess named ‘Ellydos’ actually existed. About 700 years ago, the land in the south of the continent collapsed, creating a magical territory named the Labyrinth, and beings from other worlds began to crawl out one by one. Afterward, a historical catastrophe called the Great Collision occurred, bringing entire continents from other worlds into this one. They were a and a .
“Central Plains.”
It was a name familiar to Pyo Rip. His hatred for the demonic path was largely fueled by his experiences in the Central Plains Murim. “Heh. What a dump.” The night view of that massive city and the word ‘Murim’ simply didn’t mix. Pyo Rip infused his eyes with Dharma power to observe the city. He saw a diverse crowd in cybernetic attire and flashy neon signs. It was a land that once had a noble name for the continent, but now, no one called it that anymore. Due to the continuous catastrophes and the invasions of otherworldly beings, the total area of human territory was only about twice the size of South Korea. That narrow patch of land, where 5 billion people swarmed like insects, was called City Ellydos.
“…I suppose I have to go there.”
Pyo Rip reminded himself of his goal. To become a True Immortal and attain eternal life. To finally ‘clock out’ from this infinite cycle of reincarnation. To no longer be left alone, leaving behind cherished streets and precious connections. The task he had to do for that was simple.
“Die forever, or live forever.”
Watching the city like that, Pyo Rip landed in a wasteland a little ways from the slums while still under the effect of his Invisibility Talisman. He was curious about the inside of the city, but he didn’t approach it blindly. If he tried to infiltrate by flying or digging with earth-manipulation techniques, there was no way the city’s defenses would be lax. ‘I just need to solve the identity issue.’ Pyo Rip thought as he walked toward the slums. In a world with such advanced technology, there were bound to be brokers for that sort of thing. If he could pay the cost, he could solve the identity problem.
‘I also need to contemplate my cultivation methods.’ There was so much to do.
To Pyo Rip, who had lived through many worlds, maxims often served as milestones. ‘Everything costs money once you start moving.’ This time was no different. Pyo Rip was very accustomed to sleeping rough, but he didn’t prefer it, so he needed money to stay in even a cheap inn. He had some high-quality spirit stones he’d tucked away in his Ethereal Pouch back in the Qingyu Continent, so he didn’t have to worry immediately, but he couldn’t just keep eating away at his assets forever. However, it was too late at night to do anything right away. And so, Pyo Rip’s choice was:
“Do you accept goods?”
He entered an inn that also functioned as a bar, one of the few places open at this hour, and presented a spirit stone. He didn’t worry about whether a spirit stone from the Qingyu Continent would be accepted. Qi in cultivation, ether in magic, natural energy in martial arts—they were all just different names for the energy generated by the interaction between the world and the flow of the Primordial Origin, and spirit stones, which condensed that energy, were naturally valuable.
“Ether stone?”
The stout innkeeper called it that. Pyo Rip had no reason to disagree. “Yes. I don’t have cash, so I’d like to pay with an ether stone.”
“Have you had it appraised?”
“No. But the quality should be fine.”
“That’s for an appraiser to decide.”
In the dead of night, in the quiet of the first-floor inn where the only other person was a man sitting in the corner sipping an unknown purple drink, the conversation between Pyo Rip and the innkeeper continued.
“Well, I’m not asking for the full market value.”
“That goes without saying. And how do I know if this is stolen goods?”
“Regardless, you’re accepting it, right?”
“Hmm.” The innkeeper’s hand quickly snatched the spirit stone. “One month’s stay. Breakfast only.”
It was a quality that would have easily bought a year’s stay in the Qingyu Continent, but considering this was a world where spirit energy was incomparably abundant and the cost of living couldn’t be the same as the Qingyu Continent, it wasn’t an excessive rip-off.
“That’s fine.”
After answering, Pyo Rip asked another question. In truth, the lodging was secondary; this was his main objective. “Is there a place that helps with finding work?”
“....” The innkeeper scanned Pyo Rip from head to toe. “Judging by your face and attire, you look like you’re from the Central Plains. Go find the brats begging tomorrow. Those kids are usually backed by the Beggar Sect.”
“...The Beggar Sect?”
Pyo Rip struggled to swallow his surprise at the sudden mention of a familiar name. “Underground. The ones running that are the Beggar Sect. Don’t you know?”
“No, I know the Beggar Sect.”
But he didn’t know what the Beggar Sect was doing here. “What is the Underground?”
“You know the Beggar Sect, but you don’t know the Underground?” The innkeeper chuckled. “I guess your subordinates handled everything for you until now? Everyone in this Hundred Over has a story, but you seem to have hit rock bottom pretty hard.”
“Heh heh. Yes, I’ve hit rock bottom.” At Pyo Rip’s practiced glibness, the innkeeper nodded.
“The Underground is a dark web network that controls the Hundred Over. It’s a platform that operates markets and human resources without the boundaries of the law. Even the fixers and mercenaries belonging to the city inside the wall use the Underground secretly.”
“And, what is the Hundred Over again?”
“...?” The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed. “Are you really a young master who’s only been locked inside a palace? How can you not know the Hundred Over?”
“Well, it’s possible not to know that.”
“...Ugh.” The innkeeper sighed deeply, but he was used to this. The Hundred Over was a place where all sorts of people gathered. “This place is the Hundred Over.” The innkeeper tapped the bar table with his finger. “The area beyond 100. The place that was abandoned after the wall construction was finished.”
“Ah.” He recognized that story. The wall. It was a plan that started when it became difficult to maintain the front lines as disasters kept crawling out of the Labyrinth. The wall he had seen from the sky earlier was that very wall.
“Even though the Hundred Over was abandoned, people still live around the wall like this.” Debtors with excessive debt, criminals, or fugitives with stories fled the city, and as time passed, their children were born, forming a significant population. That was the society outside the wall, the Hundred Over. “And one of the forces that controls the Hundred Over is the Beggar Sect.”
“....” The name that evoked a deep sense of nostalgia for Pyo Rip popped up again. He was reminded of a comrade from a past life, back when he was a low-level martial artist in the Murim Alliance. That guy was also a beggar from the Beggar Sect. They had died together during an attack by the Blood Cult, though. ‘He was a good guy.’
The innkeeper tossed a room key onto the bar table. “Anyway, go find those begging brats tomorrow. You should be able to get at least a guest account for the Underground.”
“Yes.” Pyo Rip nodded in gratitude, picked up the key, and left.
Room 302
A shabby inn room with nothing but a worn-out table, a bed, and a small wardrobe. In the room where dark gray concrete was visible through the cracks in the torn wallpaper, Pyo Rip closed his eyes. He wasn’t trying to sleep. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he entered the Nangseo Study to prepare for full-scale contemplation of his cultivation methods.
Two books lay on the Enlightenment Table. An Earth-attribute cultivation manual and a Fate-attribute spellbook. The spellbook was particularly crucial, and as Pyo Rip had examined the books in the Nangseo Study, he realized that Fate-attribute spells could be broadly classified into two paths: Reversing Heaven, which defies fate, and Insight, which foresees fate. Pyo Rip’s Dao Body divine ability could be said to possess both characteristics. Reversing Heaven was the act of reversing time, and Insight was the act of perceiving the present as a simulation. It was an incredibly powerful divine ability compared to the Dao Body divine abilities he had generally known in the Qingyu Continent.
Thus, he chose two books. The Earth-attribute basic cultivation method for the Qi Condensation stage, the Dust-to-Dust Formula. And the spell that encompassed both Reversing Heaven and Insight, the Eight Trigrams Creation Art.
The Dust-to-Dust Formula was one of the five cultivation methods he had learned during his Qi Condensation stage in the Qingyu Continent, specifically the Earth-attribute one. It was not lacking at all for learning in the Qi Condensation stage, and since it was a method he had already contemplated for a long time, he could expect an easier rise in his cultivation realm. And the spell, the Eight Trigrams Creation Art. Pyo Rip didn’t have to worry much about choosing a spell, especially thanks to this one.
‘It’s a spell created by a contemporary figure who ascended to become a True Immortal before the former Lord of Nangseo Pavilion.’
The preface of the Eight Trigrams Creation Art contained the author’s gratitude to the former Lord of Nangseo Pavilion. It stated that in return for a past favor, the author would donate the Fate-attribute spell they had created before ascending to the Nangseo Pavilion. ‘For the Small Realm, practicing just this spell is sufficient.’ The Small Realm was a collective term for the cultivation realms of . A spell that could be practiced across four whole realms. This alone proved it was a great spell created by a Tribulation Transcendence Half-Immortal just before ascension.
‘Are you at peace in the Upper Realm, Pavilion Lord?’
Pyo Rip closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of the former Lord of Nangseo Pavilion, and expressed his gratitude. After a moment of silence, Pyo Rip brought one more book with his intent. The Fate-Anchoring Art. As the name suggested, it was a Qi Condensation-stage Fate-Insight spell with the concept of parasitizing the luck of someone with great fortune by sensing their aura. ‘This is a provision for creating variables.’
With a total of three cultivation manuals and a spell jade slip, Pyo Rip’s eyes, sitting before the Enlightenment Table, shone brightly.