Whispers from the Upper Realm

Ilyang quietly watched the submissive pirates. Then, turning his gaze to Jin Yu-seong, who was still fidgeting with an anxious expression, he spoke in a low, calm voice.

"Then, I shall look forward to a fitting compensation from both the Namgung Clan and the Jinseong Express."

"T-Thank you! Thank you, Young Hero!"

Ilyang's choice was the Jinseong Express. In truth, he had intended this from the very beginning.

But Jin Yu-seong, who had no way of knowing this, replied with an overwhelmed, tearful face. Meanwhile, the pirates, including Maeng Ryeo and the Sunhong Band, lay prostrate on the deck with looks of utter despair. Things were turning out far too strangely, completely defying their expectations.

While the pirates whispered among themselves and jumped to their own wild conclusions, Ilyang maintained a placid expression, though he was secretly quite amused.

'If things go well, I can acquire a massive amount of resources all at once!'

He wasn't sure about the Yeomwang Clan or the Blood Wolf Clan, but they too would have to pay a ransom for the experts captured here. As for the Gyoryong Clan, their leader was dead, and they were already halfway subdued, so there was little to worry about.

If he ransacked their storehouses, he might be able to secure an immense hoard of resources. The mere thought of it sparked a sudden surge of ambition.

'Should I actually build a magic tower here as well?'

It might be getting ahead of himself, but what if the Gyoryong Clan possessed far more wealth than expected? It might actually be feasible.

A magic tower was not something that could be created simply by erecting a hollow building. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠At its core, it required drawing a massive magic circle capable of forcibly gathering the vast mana scattered throughout heaven and earth into a single point. At the same time, it needed defensive barriers to protect the tower, spatial magic circles to optimize the interior space, and even weather-control circles to manipulate the local climate.

Constructing just these basic, essential magic circles would easily drain a typical kingdom's ten-year budget.

'Well, back when I knew nothing, I took my time, gathering resources as I went and making repairs along the way.'

But he couldn't do that now. Ilyang's standards had simply grown too high.

'First, I hope these bastards are as wealthy as that brat boasted.'

Judging by the arrogant words of the Gyoryong Clan Leader's son, plundering the pirates' storehouses would likely secure a significant portion of the materials needed to lay the foundation of a magic tower. Furthermore...

'I can also look forward to the rewards from the Jinseong Express and the Namgung Clan!'

If luck was on his side, he could scrape together a staggering amount of wealth from them as well.

'That is why I am conflicted.'

Once he acquired the resources, should he use them to lay the groundwork for the magic tower, or should he invest them in raising his own circles?

Seated upon the grand armchair of the Nezha Dragon King, Ilyang indulged in this pleasant dilemma for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle and nodding.

"Very well. I have decided."

Though he didn't know the exact extent of the resources yet, if they were sufficient, he would break through to the 5th circle in one fell swoop.

'Only at the 5th circle can I cast basic, large-scale weather-manipulation magic.'

Just moments ago, he had cast the large-scale weather-manipulation spell, Blizzard, as if it were nothing. But in truth...

'That was a complete stretch.'

It was a spell cast through sheer trickery, mixing in every illusion and shortcut he could muster to force it into activation.

'It was a relief that I restricted it to the absolute minimum range.'

In reality, Ilyang's current reserve of internal energy was running dangerously low. Though he showed no outward signs, it wouldn't have been surprising if he collapsed right then and there.

Regardless, pushing himself to such limits had yielded immense benefits in a short span of time. He had secured the absolute surrender of the pirates, and he had been promised concrete tokens of gratitude from both the Jinseong Express and the Namgung Clan. His gains were substantial.

'If I'm lucky, perhaps the Gyoryong Clan has an elixir? No, is that too greedy?'

While Ilyang was busy spinning pleasant fantasies in his mind, a subtle shift began to occur just beyond his sensory range—dulled as it was by the severe depletion of his internal energy.

Sssss...

"Too few of our children are ascending from the lower realm. If this continues, we will wither away and die. The humans will strip us of our hides."

"Who doesn't know that? The problem is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that there is nothing we can do."

"It's maddening. Why did we ever sever the connection to the lower realm? What fools we were!"

"Regretting it now is useless. It is far too late."

People believed this world was divided solely into the Upper Realm and the Lower Realm, but that was a gross oversimplification. While it was true in a broad sense, the reality was far more complex.

The Upper Realm was split down the middle into two massive factions. On one side was the Seonin Realm, where human cultivators ascended after long years of discipline and enlightenment. On the opposite side was the Yokai Realm, where beasts, insects, and other bizarre entities—commonly referred to as spiritual beasts or demons—honed their spiritual power over centuries before ascending to the heavens.

Though the Seonin Realm and the Yokai Realm were distinct worlds, they overlapped in a few select regions. In those shared territories, they fought bloody, relentless wars over rare resources unique to those areas, desperate to undermine each other's power.

"Ugh, we should never have accepted the proposal of those cunning humans. Ever since the path between the lower and upper realms was severed, the spiritual beasts and demons that used to be so common in the lower realm have gone completely extinct."

"We all agreed to it back then because we desperately needed resources ourselves, didn't we? Complaining about it now is just a waste of breath. If you're going to keep spouting such nonsense, get lost."

At this blatant dismissal, a white, nine-tailed fox narrowed her eyes. Unbothered, a golden-furred monkey with a bored expression remained stretched out on the floor, gesturing with his chin as he gave a firm command.

"What are you waiting for? I told you to get lost."

But the nine-tailed fox quickly softened her expression and asked the golden monkey in a cautious tone, "Has your side picked up any signals?"

It was an abrupt change of topic, but the golden monkey seemed accustomed to her mercurial nature. He replied with his usual indifference.

"Nothing on our end either. How could a monkey beast or demon survive in the lower realm under current conditions? The humans would swarm them to extract their inner cores. We are simply overwhelmed by their sheer numbers."

"Ah... but we have to take some kind of measure so our subordinates down there can band together, don't we? Surely you agree with that?"

"What's the point? We have no way to contact them. There is no way for us to breach that cursed barrier the humans set up with such spite."

Long ago, the Seonin Realm and the Yokai Realm had waged a bloody war spanning centuries to monopolize the limited resources of the Upper Realm. In terms of sheer numbers, the Seonin Realm was vastly superior, but the Yokai Realm possessed a greater concentration of absolute powerhouses.

This was largely due to innate traits. If a Seonin and a Yokai Immortal of the same realm clashed, the Yokai Immortal would invariably emerge victorious. A Seonin had to be at least two realms higher to stand on equal footing. The demonic power of the Yokai Immortals utterly overwhelmed the cultivation of the Seonins.

Thanks to this, even though the Yokai Immortals were fewer in number, the war remained a stalemate. Then, at some point, the leadership of the Seonin Realm came to a realization.

'Rather than fighting the beasts of the Yokai Realm to monopolize these limited resources, shouldn't our priority be to completely isolate ourselves from the lower realm?'

They had grown resentful of the humans and yokai of the lower realm, who, despite lacking the proper qualifications or strength, recklessly siphoned resources from the Upper Realm. To make matters worse, those fools down there couldn't even utilize the resources properly.

Thus, the Seonins felt the urgent need to sever the ladder connecting them to the lower realm. At the time, the proposal sounded quite reasonable to the Yokai Immortals as well, who were equally displeased with the leakage of resources to the lower realm.

Consequently, the Yokai Immortals agreed to the Seonins' proposal. Both sides shared the same desire to monopolize the resources for themselves. Thus, the high-ranking Seonins and Yokai Immortals joined forces to cast a barrier separating them from the lower realm—the Great Dimensional Barrier.

The core of the barrier lay in establishing a complete phase difference between the upper and lower worlds, perfectly isolating them from one another. Upon erecting this Great Dimensional Barrier, they established a mutual surveillance system.

Humans were dispatched to monitor the Yokai Realm's passage, while Yokai were sent to guard the Seonins' passage to the lower realm. They had created a system where each side watched the other.

In this manner, they strictly prevented any reckless intrusions from the lower realm and maintained absolute control to ensure the Upper Realm could not exert influence below. Initially, it was highly beneficial, as the siphoning and waste of resources ceased entirely.

However, as the centuries rolled by, a critical issue arose. While human cultivators from the lower realm still occasionally managed to meet the requirements and ascend, the number of yokai ascending to the Upper Realm dwindled to practically zero.

The Seonins, who already boasted a massive faction, steadily ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expanded their numbers over time. Conversely, the Yokai had to watch their numbers slowly dwindle, fueling a deep sense of crisis.

For now, the sheer, overwhelming might of the Great Yokai Immortals maintained the balance of power. But if the disparity in numbers became absolute, the Seonins could break their initial treaty at any moment and invade the Yokai Realm to wreak havoc. Thus, they had to prevent the balance of power from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠collapsing at all costs.

"You know... I actually managed to find a loophole and establish a connection to the lower realm not too long ago."

The nine-tailed fox, now in her human form, lowered her voice to a whisper. At her words, the golden-furred monkey—who had been lounging lazily on a bed of white jade, known in the Upper Realm as the Great Sage Equal to Heaven—raised his head and stared intently at her with his golden eyes.

"How? How did you bypass the barrier those human bastards set up?"

"Fufut, this big sister of yours has her ways. At any rate, I've managed to spin a thread that connects us to the lower realm, though it is incredibly fragile."

The indifferent golden monkey was gone. In his place, a dead-serious monkey sat politely before the nine-tailed fox. He conjured a tea set onto the empty table as if by magic and spoke.

"Would you care for some tea? The Spider Crone sent over some excellent tea leaves recently. She said it was a precious blend meant to be enjoyed on a special occasion like today."

"Mmm~ So you're finally interested in what I have to say, are you?"

"Of course. A connection to the lower realm is of interest not just to me, but to everyone. Anyone else would react the same way."

Pour...

A teacup and teapot materialized out of thin air. Tilting the pot to pour the steaming tea, the golden monkey politely offered the cup to her.