An Anomalous Sanctuary
However, Haeyeon Island was far too anomalous, which only made it stand out all the more. There was a vast difference between spending two years barely drawing breath in obscurity and spending two years under the scrutiny of countless watchful eyes. Over those two years, Haeyeon Island had constantly proven its right to exist, thereby earning the trust of those who needed it.
"To be honest, I thought it would fall short in scale compared to other places... but looking at it now, that's not the case at all."
"I know, right? If anything, the variety of goods here seems even greater."
To say that Haeyeon Island's market had everything would barely be an exaggeration. Even those who prided themselves on their worldly travels and extensive knowledge found no shortage of unfamiliar items. There were various rare demon beasts, spiritual materials whose extraordinary origins were obvious even to a layman, and all manner of peculiar treasures.
"The Taeil Demon Scripture? Is this the real deal?"
"It's real, alright. Though it's only a fragment."
Hearing the exchange between a cultivator and a merchant, Naenghwi's gaze snapped toward them as if pulled by an invisible thread.
"The Taeil Demon Scripture? Unbelievable."
The Taeil Demon Scripture was a cultivation manual belonging to Taeil Jinin, a legendary Golden Core demon cultivator who had shaken the world thousands of years ago. No one knew whether the manual had originally been named the Taeil Demon Scripture or if the name had been coined after Taeil Jinin achieved his fearsome reputation. However, its devastating power had been passed down through the millennia alongside the legend of Taeil Jinin himself.
And now, that legendary manual of the Yangseo Lake cultivation world was right before his eyes? Even if it was just a fragment?
"Why so surprised? That's just how black markets are."
"But this is..."
Trading in a black market was a duel of wits and discernment. Both buyer and seller wore layers of masks, attempting to deceive each other to get the upper hand on the price. Naenghwi was well-traveled enough to understand this fundamental truth. Even so, wasn't this pushing it a bit too far? The Taeil Demon Scripture?
"I suppose only a place like Haeyeon Island could pull this off."
Demon cultivators were shunned everywhere within the Human Territory, and any items associated with them shared the same fate. In particular, demonic techniques and scriptures directly related to their cultivation would instantly arouse intense vigilance the moment they surfaced. Trading them openly was utterly unthinkable. If anyone dared to peddle a demonic cultivation manual so brazenly in the markets of Daedo, they would undoubtedly be dragged away by the city's enforcement division in an instant.
Still, why was that cultivator playing along with such an obvious scam? Naenghwi let out a hollow laugh, glancing back and forth between the merchant—who was glibly claiming that the fragment contained the complete and most crucial introductory chapter—and the cultivator, who was listening with dead-serious intensity.
But right then, a cold, mocking smile played on the listening cultivator's lips.
"You swindling bastard. Your tongue is as slick as ever."
That single, frigid jibe instantly shifted the atmosphere.
"Do you remember that fake Evil-Stained Root you sold me last time? I barely escaped with my life because of it."
"Hmph. Do you remember every single grain of spiritual rice you've ever shoved down your throat? You didn't die, so what's the issue? If you're not buying, get lost."
The merchant's demeanor flipped entirely as he waved his hand in annoyance. At that, a crimson gleam flared in the cultivator's eyes.
"Indeed, I didn't die. But Minhwa did."
"So what do you want me to do about it? Shed a tear for you? Or what, are you going to get physical? Go ahead, try it. Take a swing and see if you don't end up as food for the Ghost Spider."
"You bastard!"
Furious, the cultivator unleashed a surge of killing intent and lunged at the merchant. However, the merchant swiftly dodged backward, leaving his stall to be smashed to splinters instead.
"Die!"
The cultivator roared, preparing to strike again, but the moment he leaned forward, his body froze mid-motion. To Naenghwi, who was watching from the sidelines, it looked as though the violently thrashing cultivator had been turned into a stone statue in the blink of an eye.
"That's..."
Low gasps rippled through the crowd. Hearing the murmurs, Naenghwi finally noticed him. Standing rigidly erect a few paces behind the frozen cultivator was a middle-aged man who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. The moment Naenghwi laid eyes on him, an inexplicable chill ran down his spine.
"No disturbances of any kind are permitted on Haeyeon Island."
"Wait, I was just..."
"Those who break the rules shall be punished."
The moment the middle-aged man finished speaking, fine crimson lines traced themselves across the frozen cultivator's body. An instant later, he collapsed, splitting along those lines into dozens, hundreds of bloody chunks of flesh. A deathly silence fell over the market, which had been bustling with lively energy only moments before.
"Isn't that a bit of a waste?"
"It's fine. He was merely at the late Qi Condensation stage. It doesn't hurt to make an example of someone once in a while."
At Myeong-ha's words, Jekyeong nodded slightly and sipped the rest of his tea. Personally, he preferred spirit wine to tea, but he never turned down a good brew.
"How is it? The quality isn't the absolute best, but it's a rare find in Yangseo Lake. It's a variety of Enlightenment Tea."
"I don't taste anything particularly grand, but it is quite refreshing."
"Haha."
After emptying his cup, Myeong-ha produced an antique-looking ring and placed it before Jekyeong.
"Three hundred mid-grade spirit stones."
"Similar to last time."
"The rumors have already spread across the entirety of Yangseo Lake. We've already absorbed all the mediocre ones. But the truly powerful won't move on rumors alone. To take the next step, we need a catalyst."
Jekyeong leaned back in his chair. His half-reclined posture formed a stark contrast with Myeong-ha, who sat perfectly upright.
"Is that why you're putting so much effort into this auction?"
"Trust is earned through actions, not words. Once we prove we can host a transaction of this scale, their perspective will change, won't it?"
"Do as you wish. I care little for the details."
As Jekyeong reached for his waist, Myeong-ha tossed him a jade gourd as if he had been waiting for the cue.
"It's called Vermilion Bird's Tears. It wasn't easy to obtain."
"Oh?"
Jekyeong took a few skeptical sips, and a slow smile crept onto his face.
"Not bad."
"Consider it a bribe to keep me in your good graces. During this auction, please participate actively and place a few bids."
"Very well."
Atop the circular stone tower rising high in the center of Haeyeon Island, Jekyeong spent his days wetting his throat with spirit wine and filling his stomach with spiritual delicacies, waiting for the day of the auction to arrive.
The auction house and the circular stone tower were the facilities Myeong-ha had poured the most effort into. The auction house was naturally a priority as Haeyeon Island's primary source of income, while the circular stone tower served as Myeong-ha's residence, a surveillance post for the entire island, and the central anchor controlling the formations in the surrounding waters. Myeong-ha had once offhandedly mentioned that he had emptied his pockets of every last spirit stone to build it. Jekyeong only believed about half of that claim.
Through the various pieces of information he had gathered over the past two years, Jekyeong was certain that Myeong-ha was the true identity behind the bandit group—or organization—that Gwak Jeong-sin had warned him about through Yang Yo-hyeon. Gwak Jeong-sin had likely referred to them as a group or organization simply because he was ignorant of Myeong-ha's methods. Myeong-ha possessed the ability to erase a cultivator's soul and control them like a puppet. Even with whatever limitations it might have, such a power was nothing short of a cheat.
His wealth probably surpasses mine.
If a single individual could draw the attention of major human factions in Yangseo Lake, including the Yeongbu Merchant Alliance, the scale of his operations had to be immense. In this cultivation world, great risk usually equated to great reward. While Myeong-ha had undoubtedly spent a fortune establishing his foothold on Haeyeon Island, his remaining reserves of spirit stones were bound to be astronomical.
And yet, he still feels it's not enough.
For the past two years, Myeong-ha had poured his entire soul into growing Haeyeon Island. Though Jekyeong maintained an air of indifference, he had kept a close eye on Myeong-ha's movements and could see that the man was genuinely dedicated to his role as an entrepreneur. It reminded Jekyeong of the passionate, high-profile startup founders from his past life.
Presence, is it?
Jekyeong had been deeply impressed by Myeong-ha's blatantly abnormal presence. Well, "deeply impressed" was a polite way of putting it; in truth, he had been utterly shocked. Jekyeong had immediately headed to the Garden of No Forgetfulness, searching far and wide for answers. After a long search, he finally obtained an explanation from an experienced senior whose wisdom was evident in every word.
According to that senior, one's presence represented the magnitude of their destiny. In other words, the greater one's presence, the grander their destiny, and vice versa. When Jekyeong first heard this, he had been somewhat confused about how to interpret the word "destiny." Burdened with the knowledge and memories of his past life, the word instinctively conjured the image of a colossal prison—an inescapable cage that tightly bound a life from its beginning to its end.
As his thoughts drifted in that direction, Jekyeong's heart grew heavy. Fortunately, the senior's subsequent explanation cleared up his misunderstanding.
"Why is it that cultivators of higher realms and greater strength possess a more formidable presence? It is because powerful cultivators enjoy greater freedom. To be free means having the capacity to achieve more, making it easier to leave a grander mark upon the world."
Even the senior had sounded somewhat uncertain as he spoke. Nevertheless, Jekyeong found a spark of enlightenment in those words and constructed his own theory based on his conjectures. He chose to understand presence as "potential." Under this assumption, it became possible to explain why a cultivator's strength and presence were sometimes proportional, and sometimes not. The former could be understood through the old senior's theory, while the latter...
It's like the difference between the son of a beggar and the son of an emperor.
Suppose the beggar's son and the emperor's son were both three years old. Which of them would be more capable? They would undoubtedly be identical. What skills or differences could there be between toddlers who had not even begun to cultivate, who could hardly even be called cultivators? Yet, despite their identical capabilities, their presences would be as different as heaven and earth. Though he had never witnessed it firsthand, Jekyeong was certain of this. The scale of the destiny they were born with—the sheer magnitude of their potential—was fundamentally different.
Viewed this way, the world seemed incredibly unfair, but from another perspective, it wasn't entirely so. Ultimately, presence—or potential—remained a somewhat ambiguous concept. As a cultivator's realm rose and their strength grew, their presence expanded accordingly, proving that it was not a fixed value. It could wax or wane due to various factors. Consequently, those who possessed some understanding of presence rarely paid it much mind. It was not something one could actively acquire or discard at will, and more importantly, it had virtually no practical utility.
However, if that presence far exceeded ordinary bounds, the story changed completely.
A Qi-destined child. The senior had mentioned that there existed an extremely rare breed of cultivators who seemed chosen by destiny itself, referring to them as Qi-destined children. According to him, these individuals possessed an incredibly high probability of becoming giants of the world, in one way or another.
The existence of such Qi-destined children was an open secret. Even if the correlation between presence, destiny, and potential was only understood by a select few, any cultivator could sense the sheer weight of a formidable presence. However, because Qi-destined children were so exceedingly rare, they were often regarded as mere myths. Furthermore, those few who did appear usually met with tragic accidents early in life. No matter how grand their future prospects, they remained vulnerable to the elements before they could mature. Standing out so easily without the strength to protect oneself was a fatal flaw.
Thanks to the senior's generous teachings, Jekyeong had become certain that Myeong-ha was a Qi-destined child. He had witnessed a living legend of the cultivation world, yet he felt no particular awe. He merely pondered how he could exploit this rare existence. After contemplating it for a while, he reached a simple conclusion: he would ride his coattails.
To put it bluntly, a Qi-destined child was a magnet for fortune. Whether that fortune manifested as good luck or misfortune, it would inevitably propel their growth at a breakneck pace. While overwhelming misfortune might strike at times, had someone not once said that true wealth lay hidden within danger? In that sense, even misfortune could be considered a form of luck. Jekyeong hoped to claim a share of Myeong-ha's fortune. Of course, beneath this ambition lay a cold calculation: even if an insurmountable disaster struck, he would not be the one taking the direct hit.
They're coming.
Seated at the peak of the circular stone tower, endlessly tipping his cup, Jekyeong sensed powerful presences approaching one by one. They were the presences of Foundation Establishment cultivators.