The Weight of an Anchor
Among the cultivating races of the Changram Realm, the Human Race possessed some of the shortest lifespans. Among the so-called long-lived races, there were monsters whose individual lives were so vast that they practically defined the history of the cultivation world. Of course, such entities were legendary, but Yu Jeonggyeom had once remarked that most legends in this world were history, not fiction.
Well, to return to the topic of lifespan, Jekyeong had a few expectations of his own. He had started as a snake, and now he had become a demon beast. Even if he was a beast of no pedigree, a demon beast was still a demon beast. And beasts generally enjoyed long lives—certainly far longer than human cultivators of a comparable realm.
'A long lifespan means more opportunities.' It wasn't a second life he had asked for, but since things had turned out this way, he had no intention of wasting it. Besides, this world offered opportunities—opportunities incomparably grander and more precious than anything he could have dreamed of in his past life.
In his previous world, whether one was a king or a slave, rich or poor, everyone was merely human. They lived their brief, allotted century and returned to the dirt. But the Changram Realm was different. Here, one could shatter all shackles and ascend to greater heights. Even the ultimate boundary of lifespan—death itself—was no exception.
Yu Jeonggyeom had explained that when a cultivator's path reached its absolute zenith, they could pass through the Heavenly Gate and achieve Ascension, grasping true immortality. It sounded like a fairy tale, but as established, legends here were history. He claimed a cultivator had actually ascended some six or seven thousand years ago. Honestly, Jekyeong harbored a slight suspicion of historical revisionism, but Yu Jeonggyeom didn't seem like the type to spin tall tales, so he decided to take it at face value for now.
In truth, it didn't matter to Jekyeong whether the legend of Ascension was fact or fiction. Dreams provided motivation, but delusions only paralyzed one's grasp on reality. Having just become a demon beast, Jekyeong was the equivalent of a human novice who had barely entered the Qi Refining stage. Standing at the very beginning of the track, it was absurd to strain his eyes trying to glimpse a finish line ten thousand miles away. Still, if the day ever came when he was allowed to harbor such ambitions, he wouldn't turn them down.
"The greatest function of Bulmangwon is exchange," U Do-baek said, his smile fading. "However, this exchange has a very different meaning from what those on the outside might think."
"They assume we gather here in secret for some grand, hidden purpose. They aren't entirely wrong. It is just that our purpose is not nearly as insidious as they imagine."
Those who could enter Bulmangwon were those who had failed to forget their past lives. And what was it they remembered? An entire previous existence. Having retained what should have been washed away upon rebirth, they were, by definition, abnormal from the moment they drew breath. In the pursuit of cultivation, such an abnormality could breed countless complications.
Thus, they were forced to make a choice: discard the past, or embrace it. Yet, choosing to discard it was tantamount to giving up on the path entirely. It was like a person born with six fingers severing one just to appear 'normal.' Even if they achieved that superficial normalcy, it was merely an empty shell; the wound inside would remain a permanent defect.
If one intended to live and die as a mere mortal, such a choice mattered little. But for a cultivator walking the path of immortality, even the slightest internal fracture was fatal. It might pass unnoticed at lower realms, but as one ascended, the defect would snowball until it triggered a catastrophic collapse. Therefore, those who set their sights on the distant horizon had to overcome this flaw.
Bulmangwon existed precisely to facilitate that reconciliation. Within this garden, they were no longer outcasts. Here, they could look upon their own kind and converse. By realizing they were not uniquely isolated, they could harmonize their past lives with their present ones.
Every cultivator in this realm served as an anchor and a pillar for the others. Because of this, they viewed one another as kin and refrained from hostility. When one considered that typical cultivators were greedy opportunists whose eyes immediately darted to another's storage bag upon meeting, and who would gladly betray their own blood for a rare treasure, the sheer peace of this place was nothing short of a miracle.
"I may be exaggerating slightly, but you will understand in time," U Do-baek continued. "What a blessing it is to have companions with whom you can speak without keeping your guard up. Furthermore, one can occasionally receive guidance from great masters here. You heard the announcement earlier, did you not?"
"I did," Jekyeong replied.
"Senior Buyun has been stuck at the bottleneck of the late Golden Core stage for over a century. It seems he has finally resolved to attempt a breakthrough. To leave himself no path of retreat, he is sowing good karmic relations one last time before his tribulation."
Succeed, or perish.
"We cultivators often boast of defying the heavens, but how many of us truly possess the courage to do so? We, in particular, have already tasted death once. We know exactly how terrifying it is."
Ignorance bred a foolish sort of courage. Those who claimed to be prepared for death, or who boasted of fearing nothing, only spoke so because they had never looked into the abyss. The notion that living a long life made one detached from mortality was a laughable joke. It was precisely because they had lived so long that they feared death all the more.
"Senior Buyun's resolve is absolute. In his sermon ten years from now, he will impart everything he knows to ensure he leaves no regrets behind. It is a monumental opportunity for us juniors."
A monumental opportunity. Jekyeong had no frame of reference for how grand this sermon would be, but he nodded along, feigning deep appreciation. U Do-baek was proving to be just as genial as Yu Jeonggyeom. Beyond his helpful explanations, the old man rambled on about various trivialities, giving Jekyeong the impression that he simply enjoyed the act of conversation itself. Their casual dialogue flowed naturally, as if they were old friends catching up.
"While most interactions are confined to Bulmangwon, there are rare occasions where members recognize one another in the Changram Realm," U Do-baek warned. "In those instances, I strongly advise you to tread with extreme caution. The hearts of cultivators are notoriously fickle, and you, after all, belong to the Beast Race."
"Is it due to the enmity between our races?" Jekyeong asked.
"That is part of it, but more practically, the Beast Race—especially demon beasts—are incredibly useful resources. A demon beast's body is a treasure trove in its own right. Hmm... They say no cultivator dislikes a spiritual beast. Do you happen to know the difference between a spiritual beast and a demon beast?"
"I do not," Jekyeong replied.
"A tamed demon beast is called a spiritual beast."
"..."
"So, never let your guard down, no matter where you are. That is, unless you wish to find yourself wearing a collar, guarding some human's courtyard as their loyal spiritual beast."
"Though Bulmangwon is classified as a pocket realm, it is incredibly vast," U Do-baek remarked. "It is incomparable to ordinary grotto-heavens or secret realms."
According to the old man, Bulmangwon had not always been this immense. In the ancient past, a great predecessor had first opened the sky of this pocket realm. Since then, generations of seniors had continuously reinforced and expanded the space, culminating in the vast domain that existed today.
"You might wonder why a mere resting stop, visited only occasionally by a relatively small number of cultivators, needs to be so ridiculously large."
Jekyeong was glad he existed only as a spiritual body here. Had he possessed his physical face, he undoubtedly would have winced at having his thoughts read so accurately.
U Do-baek continued.
"Cultivators are, by nature, highly territorial creatures. This instinct persists even when we are reduced to mere consciousness. Because of this, seniors possessing immense spiritual consciousness often claim entire territories as their personal sanctuaries, forbidding outsiders from trespassing. Senior Buyun is a prime example. His sanctuary, Gwanghanlim, is said to be larger than most human cities."
A temporary waiting room larger than an entire city? Jekyeong doubted his ears for a second, but quickly suppressed his disbelief. He didn't truly comprehend it; he simply accepted it as another absurd reality of this world.
"I say this only out of concern, but do not go barging into a senior's sanctuary in hopes of stumbling upon some fortuitous immortal opportunity. While Bulmangwon strictly forbids conflict, that rule is applied with a great deal of... flexibility. For instance, while conflict is banned, punishment is not."
Jekyeong understood instantly. In short, while squabbling among peers was banned to keep the peace, the rules did not interfere when a supreme master decided to discipline an insolent junior. It was a blatant double standard, but entirely natural for this world. In a realm where the value of a life was determined solely by strength, laws and regulations were merely conveniences established by the powerful for their own comfort. Bulmangwon was no exception. They might all be reincarnators, but that did not make them equals.
"Rest assured," Jekyeong said. "I have no desire to seek my own death."
"The hardships of the immortal path can drive even the sanest men mad," U Do-baek sighed. "The world is teeming with desperate souls who would gladly leap into a pit of fire if it meant grasping even a sliver of opportunity."
After a brief, melancholy sigh, U Do-baek quickly steered the conversation away from the grim topic before the mood could sour further.
"Bulmangwon is divided into five distinct territories: the four cardinal regions—East, West, South, and North—and the Central Region at the very heart. The Central Region is also referred to as the Forbidden Area."
"The Forbidden Area?" Jekyeong echoed.
"Indeed. Within the Central Region stands the Tongcheon Tower, the residence of the Garden Master. None may enter that place save for the elders or those who have received the Garden Master's explicit permission."
While Bulmangwon lacked a formal, structured sect hierarchy, it was not without administrators. Without them, who would enforce the rules against conflict? The responsibility of maintaining order fell upon the Garden Master and the elders. The Garden Master, in particular, was the absolute ruler and chief administrator of Bulmangwon; within this realm, his word was absolute law. Yet, because he rarely showed himself or exerted his presence, his identity remained one of the greatest mysteries of the garden.
"There is a rumor that a supreme master once challenged the Garden Master in an attempt to seize control of Bulmangwon, only to be utterly crushed and sent fleeing in terror," U Do-baek whispered. "Some say it happened thousands of years ago, while others claim it was a mere few centuries back. I cannot say for certain if it is true."
U Do-baek continued to share a wealth of information, ranging from the most fundamental rules of Bulmangwon to idle gossip and common occurrences.
"Occasionally, the seniors will issue requests," U Do-baek said. "They are entirely voluntary, of course. You can review the compensation and decide for yourself whether to accept. Most of these tasks are tedious and time-consuming rather than dangerous, meaning even juniors like us can participate if we are so inclined."
"But isn't everyone here supposed to keep their identities hidden?" Jekyeong asked, raising an eyebrow. "Since we can only exist as spiritual bodies within Bulmangwon, how are the rewards delivered?"
U Do-baek nodded approvingly, pleased by the sharp question.
"An excellent question," U Do-baek replied. "Indeed, despite our shared bond as reincarnators, this is still a ruthless world where cultivators will readily slaughter their own kin to advance their path. Trust is a luxury. Thus, most members of the garden take great pains to keep their true identities shrouded in secrecy."
The very first quality a cultivator had to cultivate was paranoia. With very rare exceptions, those who gained entry to Bulmangwon had achieved at least the Foundation Establishment stage. By that point, they were seasoned veterans who had survived the meat grinder of the cultivation world. None of them were naive enough to trust blindly, especially in a place where verifying another's true identity was impossible.
"However, such paranoia is the burden of drifting duckweeds like us," U Do-baek said with a self-deprecating chuckle. "We, who fear being swept away by a sudden gust of wind or having a blade fly at our throats for a single misplaced word, have no choice but to walk on eggshells. But the true giants of the cultivation world are different. If we are duckweeds, they are towering ancient trees. A gale that would uproot us is a mere gentle breeze to them. The ten thousand terrors that keep us awake at night are, to them, nothing more than a minor nuisance."
Bulmangwon was home to several of these towering figures. The identities of some were public knowledge, simply because they saw no need to hide who they were.
"Is that safe?" Jekyeong asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I assumed the very existence of Bulmangwon, and our status as reincarnators, had to be kept strictly confidential."
"Ah, that is true," U Do-baek agreed. "In the dark ages of the past, if one was discovered to be a reincarnator, they would be hunted down, their soul extracted to be used as raw materials for alchemy or artifact refining, or subjected to horrific experiments. Fortunately, things are not so dire these days. It was proven long ago that a reincarnator's soul is structurally identical to any ordinary soul. Still, caution is warranted. There are always superstitious fools who harbor doubts."
U Do-baek sneered, his voice carrying the weight of a bloody history.
"Do you know why Bulmangwon was first established?" the old man asked. "Opinions vary, but two primary theories hold sway. The first is that an ancient predecessor created this realm to anchor his own Mind State—to cast a spiritual anchor, so to speak. The second is that during the height of the historical purges against reincarnators, a powerful master created this sanctuary to allow our kind to band together and survive. Whichever is true, it is undeniable that our kind has faced brutal persecution throughout history."
Jekyeong could sense the old man's lingering resentment, but he found it difficult to truly empathize. He had never personally suffered from such persecution. Had he been reborn as a human and hunted by orthodox sects for his past-life memories, he might have shared U Do-baek's outrage. But as a beast, the struggle felt distant. Rather than anger, he felt only curiosity. Still, possessing enough social tact to avoid spoiling the mood, Jekyeong offered a sympathetic nod before smoothly steering the conversation toward his query.
"By the way, Senior," Jekyeong said, "you mentioned the concept of an 'anchor' earlier. What exactly is that?"
"Ah, that," U Do-baek said, pausing in midair to gaze down at the sweeping mountain ranges below. "It is an open secret of the cultivation world. While it is not something we need to fret over at our current level, those who truly wish to ascend to the peak must keep it in mind early on."
"What is cultivation? What is the pursuit of immortality? To become an immortal is to transcend and surpass. But what is it we are transcending? Though a hundred questions may yield a hundred different answers, the truth of this matter is singular: we seek to transcend our shackles. To become entirely free from all that binds us. Hearing this, some fools might argue, 'Then should we not simply avoid forming any attachments from the very beginning?' But just as ignorance is not omniscience, one who has never worn a shackle cannot hope to cast it off. Thus, in our pursuit of the Dao, we must never fear getting our hands dirty in the mortal world."
It might have been a trick of the light, but Jekyeong felt U Do-baek's spiritual body glow slightly brighter in that moment. Perhaps, by discussing the Dao with a junior, the old man was reaffirming his own convictions, tempering his resolve.
"As your cultivation deepens, you will be beset by all manner of illusions and temptations," U Do-baek continued. "To withstand them, one must possess an unshakeable Dao Heart. And the tool required to anchor that heart is, quite literally, an anchor. It is the tether that keeps you rooted to who you are, preventing you from losing yourself in the vastness of the cosmos. One day, you too will have to cast your own anchor. As will I."
Though it felt like a distant, abstract concept, Jekyeong could faintly grasp the weight of the old man's words.
"Of course, the world is home to all sorts of monstrous geniuses," U Do-baek added. "I have heard tales of those born with a natural Dao Heart, entirely immune to any form of mental tribulation. Personally, I believe such stories are mere exaggerations or outright myths, but in this vast world, one can never be entirely sure."
"That sounds like a tale meant for someone far more extraordinary than me," Jekyeong remarked dryly.
"Haha! Indeed, the same goes for me."
As they resumed their journey, a vast, sweeping plateau unfolded before them.
"To return to our earlier topic," U Do-baek said, "aside from the requests issued by the seniors, there are numerous other forms of exchange within Bulmangwon. Some are structured as formal gatherings. While many of these assemblies arose naturally among like-minded cultivators, others are officially backed and guaranteed by powerful seniors."
"What exactly is traded at these gatherings?" Jekyeong inquired.
"Information is the most common commodity. Next is the discussion of the Dao. Of course, physical transactions of goods also occur. However, for material trades, there must be absolute, unwavering trust between both parties. Otherwise, one must pay a fee to secure the mediation of a senior."
"Mediation?"
"I mentioned earlier that there are several seniors who operate openly, did I not?" U Do-baek explained. "For instance, one such figure is Yeongbu Jin-gun. He controls a massive merchant alliance that is famous throughout the Changram Realm. By utilizing his mediation services, one can conduct transactions with absolute safety and discretion."
In other words, they traded through a broker who was guaranteed to be trustworthy. Of course, a legendary figure of the Jin-gun rank would never personally oversee the trivial transactions of low-level juniors; he was merely lending his name to the service. Yet, his name alone was a terrifying deterrent. No one in their right mind would dare harbor treacherous thoughts under the shadow of a Perfected Lord.
"Is there a particular gathering that you participate in, Senior?" Jekyeong asked.
"Indeed there is," U Do-baek replied smoothly, as if he had been waiting for Jekyeong to ask.
'As expected.'