Chapter 269 - 148-152

148 Feast Before the Summit

It had been a week since my talk with Nongmin, and the preparations for the World Summit were still dragging on. Apparently, assembling the most powerful people in the world under one roof took more time than I expected. A lot of politics. A lot of pomp.

But that delay came with its perks. I had time to cultivate, catch up with people, and… well, "stuff."

The Empire had loaned me a manor in Yellow Dragon City. Not some crumbling ancient compound either. This place was the real deal: spiritual wood beams, flowing qi ponds, reinforced formations, and even a garden filled with herbs I couldn't name without help. A "gift" from Nongmin. Or a leash. Hard to tell with him.

Out in the courtyard, Lu Gao was running through his sword forms with deadly precision. Even from the hallway, I could hear the air tearing with each swing. The guy didn't mess around.

Not far from him, Alice was instructing Ren Jingyi on the use of the whip. The crack of it echoed against the tiles, followed by a loud "Ow! What the hell, that hurt!"...Jingyi, of course.

I slid the door open, stepping into the kitchen with a wicker basket filled to the brim. Groceries. Not spirit beast meat or some thousand-year-old herb, no. Actual groceries.

I didn't bother using my Item Box, because… I didn't want to.

Eggplants, potatoes, onions, rice, flour, tomatoes, spices… spices I had begged, borrowed, or bartered from all over the continent. It took a few sketchy deals and one awkward argument with a culinary cultivator who tried to sell me "Nine Heavens Salt" that was just regular salt dyed blue.

I hadn't cooked in a long time.

Back on Earth, cooking was just a necessity. I lived alone in my apartment, and everything I made was more "passable" than "passionate." But now? In a world where people feared kitchen smoke would ruin their cultivation, it felt almost rebellious to boil water and stir-fry vegetables.

I started with curry. Good old curry and rice. A rich roux formed with browned onions, garlic, and a mix of spices I'd managed to recreate from memory—turmeric, cumin, coriander, chili powder. I added chopped potatoes and carrots, then slow-cooked some diced meat from a beast I hoped wasn't poisonous. It smelled incredible.

Next up, fries. I peeled the tubers—some sort of spiritual potato variant—and sliced them thin. Oil was expensive, so I borrowed a formation from a local cultivator to heat and reuse it safely. Fried them twice for crispiness. Salted them like I meant it.

Then came burgers. I ground meat manually using a technique that made my arm feel like it was dying. That was… an exaggeration. I pan-seared them, slapped them into makeshift buns I baked yesterday. Lettuce, tomato, even a bit of sweet sauce I brewed from local honey and vinegar.

For veggies, I stir-fried greens with garlic and sesame oil. And for Alice… desserts. Baked little sponge cakes soaked in syrup and paired with fruits. I even grounded my own coffee beans. Earth-style roast.

By the time I was done, the kitchen looked like a battlefield. Plates stacked like spiritual artifacts. Aroma thick enough to make a Will Reinforcement cultivator salivate.

I called them over.

"Lu Gao! Ren Jingyi! Alice! Food's ready!"

They came quickly. Lu Gao was first, wiping sweat from his brow and already eyeing the table like it was a rival. Ren Jingyi jogged in behind him, her cheeks flushed from training. Alice walked in last, graceful, casual, the whip still coiled on her hip.

The round table was already set. I never liked those long rectangular tables. Always felt like they were made for cold banquets and formal smiles. Round tables? They were for family.

"Take a seat," I said, sliding into mine. Alice to my left. Lu Gao to my right. Ren Jingyi across from me.

I pushed a hand-ground cup of coffee to Alice. "Figured you'd want this."

She arched a brow, sniffed it, then took a sip. "Still warm. You spoil me."

"Just don't let it go to your head."

Lu Gao didn't wait for ceremony. He reached for a burger, then some fries, then curry. He looked like a bear at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Me and Alice just stared.

"…What?" he asked, mouth half-full.

"Nothing," I muttered.

Alice just smirked. "You eat like the world's ending."

"It might be," Lu Gao said, not missing a beat. "And this? This is worth it."

Unlike most cultivators who believed mortal food clogged the meridians and tainted purity, Lu Gao didn't hold back. He didn't need to anymore. In fact, food in huge quantities seemed to help his cultivation. Something about his path being tied to physical and spiritual harmony, or whatever.

Ren Jingyi was less enthusiastic. She picked at the burger, took a bite, and glared at me.

"…What?" I asked.

"She's not an idiot," Alice said, sipping her coffee.

Ren Jingyi narrowed her eyes. "It's today, isn't it?"

"Hahaha!" I laughed, way too loud and fake. "What's today?"

She didn't answer. Just took another bite, chewing it like it was my dignity.

"…I knew it," she said finally, eyes still fixed on me. "You're leaving again."

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "…Yeah."

Silence settled over the table for a second. Even Lu Gao stopped eating.

"Well," Alice said, tone light, "at least you fed us first. That's something."

Ren Jingyi muttered something under her breath, but she kept eating.

I watched them: these weird, powerful, reckless, and special people who somehow became my responsibility. Even if I didn't say it out loud, I knew I was going to miss them.

We ate. We laughed.

For a little while, it was like nothing outside the manor existed. No Outsiders, no Summits, no old grudges or secret plots. Just us around a round table, plates half-empty and smiles half-formed, all pretending we weren't living in a world constantly on the edge of war.

Even Ren Jingyi tried not to feel bad about it. She pretended she was just focused on the food, but every now and then, her eyes flicked to me. Still, she talked. She told me stories between bites of burger and mouthfuls of rice.

"Back at the Isolation Path Sect," she began, swinging her little legs under the table, "I kept beating Fan Shi in everything."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean… that Fan Shi?"

"Yeah! But she's slow," Jingyi said with a proud puff of her cheeks. "She's older than me, you know. But I still whooped her. Sparring, alchemy exams, ghost hunting. All of it."

Alice chuckled into her cup. "Poor Fan Shi."

I remembered Fan Shi from the Martial Tournament. A jade beauty, kind of brooding. Too much goth… or was it emo? It blurred together after a while. Long black hair, serious face, edgy vibes. But I did hear she was doing fine in the Isolation Path Sect. She had a decent Master after all.

"And then," Jingyi said, pausing for dramatic effect, "an elder told me I had attitude problems."

I nearly choked on my drink. "What'd you do?"

"I kicked his leg until he fell down."

"…What."

"He's from Cloud Mist," she added, like that explained everything.

It kind of did.

I rubbed my forehead. "You're beating up elders now?"

She grinned. "Only rude ones."

Yeah. That spoke just how unfair Ren Jingyi was. A little girl with the power to humble old cultivators who'd been around longer than my entire life back on Earth.

Then it was Lu Gao's turn. He didn't share much, he wasn't the talkative type when it counted, but when the topic drifted to Xue Xin, his ears turned pink.

I didn't say anything at first. I just watched his face as Alice casually mentioned, "Captain of the Left Wing, huh? Xue Xin's been around a lot lately."

Lu Gao coughed. "She's… just doing her duty."

Alice and I locked eyes across the table. We didn't need words.

"Uh huh," I said. "Duty."

Lu Gao pretended to focus intensely on slicing his curry-drenched meat.

Before we could tease him further, a knock came from the front door.

Knock knock.

Xue Xin, of course.

I called out, "What is it, Captain Xue?"

She stepped inside without ceremony, armor polished and formal as always. Her gaze barely flicked over the table before landing on me.

"Your guest has arrived," she said.

Behind her, I caught Lu Gao staring like someone had cast a charm spell on him. Starry-eyed didn't even begin to cover it. He looked like a man halfway through composing poetry.

Xue Xin ignored him entirely.

I raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Tao Long."

Ah. Right.

It was time, then.

Tao Long had sent word earlier, asking to accompany me to the World Summit. With his cultivation at the Ninth Realm, he was plenty strong. Politically connected too. Nongmin hadn't objected, which was as close to an approval as one could get from him.

Still, I wasn't ready to leave the table yet.

"Tell him to wait a bit," I said, waving a hand. "He can enjoy the spiritual tea garden or whatever while we finish."

Xue Xin gave a small bow and left, footsteps like measured drumbeats down the hall.

I turned back to the others. Ren Jingyi was chewing thoughtfully again. Alice had gone back to sipping her coffee. Lu Gao was still a little pink in the face.

I took another bite of curry.

This right here—this quiet, messy, ridiculous table filled with weirdos and monsters and children pretending not to care—this was the closest thing I had to a family in this world.

And I was going to miss them.

I met with Tao Long in the garden. The sun was low, bleeding orange across the sky, and the wind was just sharp enough to remind me we were near Riverfall's cliffside, where cold air loved to bite through robes.

Tao Long stood with his hands behind his back, still as a statue beneath the wisteria tree. He turned when I approached, inclining his head with that familiar, knightly grace of his.

"Thank you," he said. "For the spear. It served me well. But I believe… it's time I let it go."

I blinked. "Let it go? You planning to give it back?"

"I only borrowed it," he replied. "And I always meant to return it once your goals were met."

Right. I had loaned him the Dra-kon Mar back when I asked him to deliver Ren Jingyi to Jiang Zhen. He went above and beyond. Even stayed in Riverfall to slay devils.

I crossed my arms and tilted my head at him. "You're a dragon of your word, Tao Long. You delivered Ren Jingyi like I asked. Helped clean up Riverfall's demon mess. You're a hero, whether or not you admit it."

He didn't respond right away, but his eyes softened.

I continued, "Which means… you deserve a quest reward. That spear? It's yours now."

His eyes widened slightly before he gave a single, respectful bow. "Thank you. I will treasure it."

Of course he would. He was a dragon. Even if this world didn't follow all the usual fantasy tropes, one thing remained true across every genre: dragons loved hoarding treasures.

I grinned. "So. We going?"

He straightened. "Yes. His Majesty and the rest are waiting in the sealed courtyard."

I frowned. "He could've told me that with a Qi Speech. I've got that function turned on."

Tao Long didn't argue. He just looked politely amused.

"Lead the way," I said. "I don't know where it is."

"We have a guide," Tao Long said.

Old Song emerged from the path behind him, hands tucked behind his back, posture relaxed but alert. He wore travel robes this time, and moved like someone who still had a few decades left despite his apparent mortality.

"It's barely been a year," I said. "Thinking of you as dead might be a little premature."

Old Song chuckled. "Death's never been punctual, Lord Da Wei."

I followed them down a shaded path, canopied by talewood trees. As we walked, I asked, "How's the Adventurer's Guild holding up?"

"Hard times," Song admitted. "The Union's breathing down our necks. They don't like independents playing politics."

"Expected."

"They'll manage. We received an invitation to the World Summit, by the way."

I turned my head. "Really?"

"Of course," he said. "The World Summit isn't just the big four. Vassals, countries, sects, merchant coalitions, even Beast Courts… everyone wants a say."

"So you're planning to join the Emperor's retinue?"

"If you'll have us," Song said with a faint smile. "We'd rather not go in alone. And just to clarify, I wouldn't be going. Just the Guild Master."

I nodded slowly. That made sense. Not just tactically, but politically. Showing up with the Empire said something about allegiance… even if that allegiance was temporary.

"Sure," I said. "You walk with us, you don't get left behind. That's the deal."

Song grinned. "That's all we ever ask."

There was still daylight, so Yellow Dragon City hadn't gone to sleep just yet. The streets pulsed with life: merchants yelling prices, kids running past with paper talismans fluttering behind them, and cultivators arguing over street food. I watched from the garden path as the city breathed, and I almost felt like I belonged.

Then I saw the beast carcasses being hauled in from the southern gate.

Huge things. Some still steaming, blood sizzling faintly against talismans meant to suppress miasma. A tusked panther the size of a wagon. A winged centipede impaled by six different spears. Tao Long followed my gaze.

"The devil worshippers used waves of demonic beasts during one phase of their assault," he explained. "Hence the surplus."

I nodded slowly. "So I've heard. The cores and materials'll be salvaged to strengthen the city?"

He inclined his head. "Every piece counts. Especially now."

He wasn't wrong. I hadn't been idle either. The past week had been a blur of spellwork, terrain-hopping, and the occasional impromptu monster surgery. I'd slain more than a few of those beasts myself, as well as a few rogue cultivators with more ambition than sense.

I was about to walk past the scene when I saw her.

Lin Lim.

She was hauling part of a wyvern's wing into a cart, sleeves rolled up, a sweat-stained cloth wrapped around her forehead. The once-leader of beggars and pilgrims, now working alongside butchers and cultivators. Her hair was tied back, and her staff rested by the cart like an afterthought.

I flashed forward with a single step.

Flash Step was fun when I wasn't using it to kill people.

"Hey," I said casually, stopping just beside her.

She didn't flinch.

She turned her head toward me, those cloudy eyes somehow locking onto mine like she knew where I'd be.

"Young Master Da Wei?" she asked, tilting her head.

Before I could reply, Tao Long chimed in from behind me.

"It's actually Lord Da Wei now," he said with far too much dignity. "Named Lord of Riverfall by the Emperor himself. Functionally the equivalent of a Duke in foreign lands."

I groaned. "Not now, Tao Long."

Lin Lim's lips curled upward, just a little. "So formal, this friend of yours."

"Yeah, he gets like that. Ignore him."

"I don't mind," she said, brushing her hands on her robe. "Lord or not, you still sneak up on people the same way."

"I didn't sneak," I muttered. "I just walked quickly."

"You vanished and reappeared," she said calmly.

"…Fair."

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of blood and cooked rice from nearby stalls. Lin Lim didn't seem bothered. She turned toward the cart and resumed her work, muscles straining beneath her simple robes.

"You sure you want to be doing this kind of labor?" I asked. "Could've sworn you were more the inspiring-leader type."

"I lead by example," she said simply. "These beasts took lives. The least I can do is help clear them out."

Tao Long nodded in approval behind me. "A noble spirit."

"You and your nobility," I muttered.

But I didn't argue. Lin Lim didn't need praise. She didn't want pity. She just worked.

And somehow, I respected her more for it.

I stood there for a moment, watching the city, the dead beasts, the living people… and Lin Lim, blind but seeing everything.

Maybe I'd sneak her an extra talisman pack later. Just in case.

149 Want a Candy?

"I'm sorry about Ren Xun," I told her, voice low. "I promise I'll bring him back."

The words tasted heavy coming out. He had died because of me… or more accurately, because he'd agreed to watch over me during our trip to the Imperial Capital. A simple 'tourguide' mission, basically babysitting. And now he was dead.

Lin Lim stood still beside the cart, her hand resting lightly on the edge of the beast's torn wing. She didn't look at me, but that was nothing new. She never looked at anyone.

Her lips tightened. "Don't misunderstand."

I blinked. "What?"

"Ren Xun only volunteered for that journey to avoid his duties… and his desire of wooing me is just a trick. In the end, he just needed an excuse to run away. To put it simply, I just happened to be a convenient excuse he used to appeal to his parents for his desire to get away from that life. We are not in love."

That was a lie.

I didn't need to probe deeply into her tone, her heartbeat, or her body language. My Divine Sense told me plain and clear… she was lying. Her words were neat, carefully folded like offerings left at a shrine, meant more for herself than for me.

But I didn't call her out.

Instead, I just nodded, quietly.

"I see."

I thought, maybe I should give her something. Money, spirit stones, a supply pack, and a talisman. Anything. She deserved something.

But I knew how that would look. I knew exactly the kind of steel that lived inside her. She'd take it as pity, and she'd hate me for it.

Instead, I offered something else.

"…Do you want me to heal your eyes?"

She went stiff. The breeze carried her silence like a banner.

Then came the fire.

"No," she said, sharp and sudden, voice almost too loud for the street. "They're mine. This blindness, it's my burden to carry. My punishment."

"For what?" I asked, almost without thinking.

"It's my story to tell."

She clenched her fists, then slowly exhaled. The rage melted back into her, hot iron cooling into something quieter. She didn't apologize. I didn't expect her to.

I nodded again, slower this time. "Alright."

A few seconds passed. She let the silence breathe before she broke it again.

"I'm fine," she said more softly. "Governor Ren Jin and Lady Yue Ruo have looked after me. I have work. A place. I'm not lost."

"That's good," I murmured.

"But…" She turned her head slightly, toward me, though her gaze passed through. "You'd better bring him back. We still have a lot to talk about."

I met her not-quite-eyes. "I will."

Then she walked off with the cart, her footsteps steady, fading into the noise of the street.

Tao Long had been standing quietly beside me the entire time, which was a miracle in itself. He looked toward her retreating form, then turned to me.

"Should we go, Lord Wei?" he asked.

I took one last look at Lin Lim's back.

"…Yeah. Let's go."

Old Song led us through a twisting alley toward what looked like the bones of a house. The building might've once been a shop or a courtyard residence, but now the wood sagged like tired shoulders, and the gate leaned open like it had long since forgotten how to close.

"This is where we part ways," he said, his voice cracked like dry leaves. No farewell, no warning. Just a statement. I nodded. He limped off before I could thank him.

I stepped inside behind Tao Long, the boards creaking under our feet. The scent of dust and old incense clung to the air. Inside, the Emperor stood waiting. Nongmin was dressed not as a ruler but as a traveler, robes simple but sharp. General Zhu Shin was beside him, arms crossed, spine ramrod straight. The man wore his age like armor: every line in his face, a campaign. 

In other words, Zhu Shin was mewing.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is this everyone? I remember you harping about how many would be attending. Contingents, you said. Practically small armies."

General Zhu Shin gave a short nod, replying, "I am prepared to offer my soldiers at any moment."

"We're not going to war," Nongmin didn't glance at him. "We'll move into a small unit. No army."

I frowned. "Are you expecting a fight?" I had a feeling that if we weren't expecting a fight, he'd gladly bring along an army to let them gain experience and as a show of prestige to the rival sovereigns.

Zhu Shin offered, "Forgive me if I speak out of place, but if a fight is expected… wouldn't bringing an army be the point?"

Before the Emperor could answer, Tao Long cut in, voice tight with disapproval. "A fight at the World Summit would be idiotic. The Empire would be sanctioned, maybe even condemned. No one with sense wants that."

Nongmin remained quiet for a moment. He didn't pace. He didn't sigh. He just watched the dust swirl in the air until he spoke again, calmly.

"We're not picking a fight," he said, "but there will be a fight."

The room settled into a stillness that wasn't quite silence. I folded my arms. "If we're expecting a fight, then I'd rather move in small units. Strong fighters. No baggage. No formations. Just people who can handle themselves."

The Emperor nodded slightly. "I've invited experts I trust. Some are still arriving."

"And until then?" I asked.

His gaze shifted. Not just toward me, but… into me. The weight of it was heavy. Suddenly, both Tao Long and Zhu Shin were staring at me too, not unkindly, but with something close to caution.

"There's something important we must settle first," Nongmin said, voice low. "It concerns perception… appearance."

He let that hang just long enough for my mind to start racing before he asked, tone suddenly far too serious:

"For the duration of the World Summit, can you pretend to be my son?"

Silence.

Not because I didn't know how to answer. Just because I was trying very hard not to laugh.

"…Excuse me?"

He didn't flinch. "It's a calculated move. You are already known to many dignitaries by face or by tale. Aligning you publicly with the Empire gives us both cover. You move as my son… unofficially. An honored guest, hidden in plain sight."

Zhu Shin cleared his throat. "It also keeps enemies from targeting you openly. They'd have to go through us."

This Emperor wanted to be beaten up, didn't he?

He looked me dead in the eye, dead serious, like asking me to pretend to be his son wasn't the most absurd thing I'd heard since arriving in this realm. My expression must've said as much, because I didn't even need to speak for the silence to feel loaded.

But I did speak, anyway.

"What's next?" I asked, voice dry as bone. "I call you daddy?"

Nongmin didn't flinch. Of course, he didn't.

I rubbed my temple with two fingers. "Do you remember, Nongmin, that you still owe me one slap? I'll be delighted to land this itchy palm of mine on your smug imperial face."

General Zhu Shin bristled instantly. "How dare you disrespect His Majesty—!"

"Calm down," Nongmin interrupted, lifting a lazy hand in the general's direction. "He's not wrong. I do owe him a slap."

Zhu Shin looked like he might burst a blood vessel.

Nongmin exhaled slowly and turned back to me, eyes tired but focused. "If you're uncomfortable with the idea, you could pretend to be a squire. Or anyone's nephew. Tao Long's, maybe."

Tao Long choked.

"But," Nongmin continued, "the best excuse I could think of for you to accompany us is that you're my mysterious lovechild… disguised as my genius and talented grandson."

I stared.

Then I stared harder.

"…That's your best excuse?"

Before he could defend himself, a new voice cut in from the shadows.

"I've got it handled."

Liang Na strolled in like she owned the building… and to be fair, with her entrance, she might as well have. Her robes were crisp, her hair tied up in a braid so tight it probably had its own spiritual formation. She looked sharp. Strong. Smug.

She gave me a nod. "Just broke through the Ninth Realm. Early stage."

Of course she did.

I let out a long sigh and muttered, "I really need more practice reading people."

I'd known Liang Na's cultivation was high. But Ninth Realm? That was ridiculous. That was bordering on demigod territory.

Still… I narrowed my eyes. "Why a son, though?"

Liang Na was already three steps ahead of me.

"I mean no disrespect, Lord Wei," she said, tone respectful in the most technical sense of the word, "but your Presence—and the Spiritual Pressure you exude—clearly marks you as someone limited to the Third Realm. That makes you extremely suspicious."

I folded my arms. "Thanks."

She kept going, merciless. "If His Majesty were to show up at the World Summit with a Third Realm cultivator—without an army backing him—curious eyes would definitely pry. Questions would spread. Rumors would multiply. That kind of scrutiny is dangerous. But…"

She glanced toward Nongmin. "A mysterious illegitimate descendant? With untapped talent and a late start? That's romantic. Poetic. Politically convenient. You'll move through the Summit unchallenged, assuming you play your role well."

"And if I don't?"

"Then we all die horribly," she said, like she was describing the weather. "The Empire is alone, nascent, and painfully lacking of heroes…"

Nongmin added, far too casually, "Liang Na will act as your personal guard."

"Oh great," I muttered. "Even more eyes on me."

"And," Nongmin added, a little too cheerfully, "with your treasure that allows shapeshifting into smaller physiques…"

I groaned before he could finish.

"…you'll sell the lie well."

My hand slowly, very slowly, dragged down my face. "This is revenge, isn't it? For when I used the Chibi Perfume on you."

"Absolutely," he said.

At least he was honest… and unrepentant.

Tao Long finally stepped forward, clearing his throat like he'd been waiting for an opening. "I will similarly stay by Lord Wei's side."

I raised a brow. "Oh?"

"I feel… an affinity," he said carefully, "to Lord Da Wei. I wish to witness his greatness up close."

That was a lie.

Not the worst lie, but still a lie. The guy was clearly scheming something, but honestly? I didn't have the energy to deal with him just yet. I eman, I liked him enough… so I'd feel terrible if he ended up screwing with me, but that was just how people worked. Let him watch. Let him witness.

I looked at Nongmin, who was still watching me with that infuriatingly patient expression.

"So," he asked, arms folded behind his back. "What's it gonna be?"

I took a breath.

Let it out.

"…Fine," I said at last. "But be forewarned… when I get into a role, I take it seriously."

Nongmin smiled faintly. "I expect nothing less, my son."

I reached for my Chibi Perfume and stared at the little bottle like it personally betrayed me. Then, without another word, I popped the cap.

"Yes, Father."

I sprayed myself with the Chibi Perfume.

In an instant, my body shrank: limbs compressing, torso tightening, and even my robes slinking inward as if obedient to the magic. It was surprisingly comfortable. Whoever enchanted the item had actually accounted for the user's clothes adjusting too, which… considering how often magical gear ignored modesty, was nothing short of miraculous.

"Convenient gimmicky item," I muttered, adjusting my sleeves and testing my gait. "I'm a walking plush toy now."

Nongmin rubbed his chin thoughtfully, not even pretending to hide the amusement twitching at the corner of his mouth. "You'll fit in well. You act like a child anyway."

I turned slowly to face him, eyes narrowed to slits. "Hey, hey… that's crossing a line."

"What's next?" I asked, not even bothering to wait for a response. "You gonna pinch my cheeks and call me adorable?"

He smirked. "Tempting."

Before I could threaten to unshrink just to slap him, he changed the subject. "We're waiting on two more people. They'll be joining our little entourage for the Summit."

"Oh? Who?"

"One is the Sect Master of the Cloud Mist Sect," he said. "The other, an independent cultivator of considerable renown. Both are in the Tenth Realm, so… you might want to watch your back around them."

Tenth Realm? Of course. Why not just throw in a dragon or a celestial beast while we're at it. Wait, we already have a dragon in our midst, so that had to count for something, right?

I crossed my arms and frowned. "Cloud Mist… you talking about the sect here in Riverfall?"

Nongmin shook his head. "No, no. That's just a provincial branch. I'm referring to the main sect. The real one."

Then he paused. I could tell a lecture was coming. I could feel it. Sure enough, he steepled his fingers and went full teacher-mode.

"Their true name," he said with exaggerated importance, "is Cloud and Mist as One, Yet Never United Sect."

"…Huh?"

He nodded gravely. "Exactly."

"Wait. That's seriously their name?"

"Yes."

"That's…" I blinked. "So that's why it's not Cloudy or Misty. It's not an adjective. It's two nouns awkwardly crammed together into a philosophical contradiction."

"They are very proud of that."

"I bet they are," I muttered.

Nongmin continued, as though he hadn't just dropped a naming disaster onto my lap. "The Cloud Mist Sect maintains a unique relationship with the Empire. Though they're directly affiliated with the Heavenly Temple, their Holy Mountain lies within imperial territory."

"So they're squatters."

"They pay for the privilege," Nongmin said smoothly. "Heavily. Unlike the sects born and raised within our borders, Cloud Mist is taxed aggressively in exchange for imperial protection."

I raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you're extorting them."

"I am extorting them," he said shamelessly. "And it works. The Empire has remained an unassailable powerhouse largely because of one reason."

He tapped a finger to his temple.

"My Heavenly Eye."

Then he spread his arms, expansive and regal. "And because I am strongest when I remain within my Territory. They know better than to test me on home soil."

He said it like it was a simple fact. Like gravity. I wasn't sure if I should be impressed or concerned.

Probably both.

"You really are a final boss, huh?" I murmured.

He glanced at me sidelong, that knowing smirk curling again at his lips. "Only if you make me one."

Gods help me, he wasn't even kidding. I mean, I was more surprised he got the reference.

There was something deeply unsettling about how casually Nongmin had started to adopt my mannerisms. A few phrases here and there, the cadence of his sarcasm… it was getting suspicious. Was this man actually borrowing my personality?

It made me wonder: just how many times had he talked to me in alternate timelines? I knew he used his Heavenly Eye to simulate possibilities, but lately it felt like he'd been doing it a lot. Enough to mimic my speech patterns.

Were the other versions of me that gullible? Spilling secrets just because someone smiled at them and offered a bit of imperial flattery?

No. I didn't think so. I had too much pride, even in parallel.

Still… a dark thought crept in.

Did the Emperor torture me in those alternate realities to make me spill secrets?

I shook my head. Nah. That wouldn't work either. If that happened, I'd end up killing him. Probably slowly. My lie detection ability didn't just work on others… I was pretty damn good at spotting manipulation, even layered across dimensions. And if anything, I'd weaponize it in reverse.

There was a knock on the door.

"That would be the Cloud Mist Sect Master," Nongmin said casually. "If you don't mind."

He wasn't looking at me, just sipping tea and enjoying himself like he hadn't just dropped that bomb. I realized I was standing in front of the door. I opened it, not because he asked, but because I had to get out of the way.

And that's when I saw him.

An old man with flowing white hair, bright laughing eyes, and a youthful grin that looked way too mischievous for someone claiming Tenth Realm status.

"Oh! Who is this cutie?" he said the moment he saw me.

I didn't even have time to flinch before his hands were on my face, stretching my cheeks, patting my head, giving me full-on coddles like I was a lost puppy and he was a grandma at a dumpling shop.

"Is this your grandson, Your Majesty?" he cooed, turning briefly toward Nongmin. "He's so adorable!"

My voice came out higher-pitched than usual thanks to the Chibi Perfume. "I'll kill you."

The old man blinked.

"I am in my murder hobo arc, let go of me!"

He burst out laughing. "Oh! He's got spunk too!"

I barely restrained myself. It took every ounce of my willpower not to drop the full power of my Reflect ability and turn his enthusiastic pinches into divine backlash.

Internally, I was raging.

Nongmin, you bastard! You saw this, didn't you? You definitely saw this in one of your precog runs. And you said nothing.

That settled it.

From now on, if anything bad happened to me, I would blame Nongmin by default. Even if it wasn't his fault. New policy.

Suddenly, the old man leaned in and whispered like he was offering contraband.

"Do you want candy?"

…

Okay.

Maybe I'd postpone Nongmin's punishment.

Because, yes. I could use the candy.

150 MegatronNew4 days ago

Just as the old man was gleefully pinching my cheeks and preparing to ruin my dignity forever, I noticed someone standing beside him, mouth slightly open, eyes fixed on me like she'd seen a ghost.

Jia Yun.

Ah, shit.

Out of all the cultivators in the Empire, why did it have to be her?

Back in my first week of stumbling into Yellow Dragon City: new to this world, confused, uninformed, and way too friendly for my own good… I'd made two extremely poor life choices. Their names were Fan Shi and Jia Yun. If not friends, we were at least… suspiciously close acquaintances who got into way too much mischief together.

We had history. Specifically, a night of gallivanting around the city as bratty little hooligans. How? It was thanks to the same damn perfume I was using now. The Chibi Perfume.

We'd all shrunk ourselves down and run wild like unhinged kids with divine credit cards.

And now, standing before me, was Jia Yun… still looking exactly as she did back then. Same dark hair, same calculating eyes, and same permanent expression of "I know you're up to something."

Me?

I looked very different. Because now I was a "child." A "grandson." A lie. And a lie on top of a lie. Uuuuh… Great!

Nongmin, with the confidence of a seasoned politician and the morality of a chaotic neutral bard, faked a cough and introduced me with zero hesitation.

"This is my grandson, an offspring of my offspring," he said solemnly, "from… an affair I had a long time ago."

Wow. He was really coming in hot with the misinformation, huh?

I glanced at Jia Yun. She looked nervous. Her eyes darted between me, Nongmin, and the old man who was still hovering over me like a candy-bearing vulture.

I remembered a little detail about her. Jia Yun was technically a member of the main clan. But due to some "complications"—probably politics or a family falling-out—she'd been sent to one of the branch clans to "learn humility." She was still a prodigy, though. Sharp. Watchful.

And she knew about the Chibi Perfume. Which meant she knew exactly who I was. I mean, she'd seen me in this shape one time already.

Nongmin, perhaps sensing danger, didn't dare use Qi Speech. Not with the Tenth Realm grandpa within hearing range. But I felt his glare. That sharp, sidelong do something look.

Right. We had to sell the story.

I took a deep breath, summoned the spirit of every obnoxious brat I'd ever taught in gym class, and protectively wrapped my arms around the candy stick the old man had given me.

"You can't have this," I snapped in my highest-pitched childish voice. "It's mine!"

Jia Yun recoiled slightly, blinking like I'd just tried to bite her.

"I… I wasn't trying to steal it," she stammered, raising her hands defensively. "What is wrong with you?"

I turned my head sharply and clutched the candy tighter.

Perfect.

Operation Gaslight the Fox was a resounding success.

Nongmin didn't say anything, but I caught the flicker of a smirk at the edge of his mouth.

Yeah. We'd pulled it off.

For now.

The old man finally let go of my cheeks, though the damage to my dignity had already been done. He gave one last pinch for good measure and then turned toward Nongmin with hopeful eyes and an unsettling smile.

"Your Majesty wouldn't mind if my youngest tags along, would you?" he said, gesturing toward Jia Yun like she was a puppy he'd found on the roadside.

My eyes narrowed instinctively.

Jia Yun didn't react, at least not outwardly. Her face was as composed as I remembered, but I could see the slight clench of her jaw. Fourth Realm. That wasn't something I expected. She'd left Fan Shi in the dust, and she wasn't exactly slouching around at the bottom of the ladder either. Then again… my disciples were monsters. Their rate of cultivation could make geniuses weep. Jia Yun just happened to be a different kind of monster.

Nongmin offered a thin-lipped smile that said 'I see what you're doing, old man,' but nodded.

"Then she will be your responsibility, Jia Sen," he said.

Ah. So that was the old man's name. Jia Sen. Made sense.

Jia Yun gave a polite bow. "This junior is grateful for the opportunity," she said aloud in third-person with a careful tone. Good. She was easing back into her usual speech pattern. No more startled prey. Just the calm, polished front of a competent cultivator.

I took that as my cue to retreat.

Slipping between Tao Long and Liang Na, I found a quiet corner and flopped into it like the tired, sugar-rushed child I currently appeared to be. The candy stick was still clutched tightly in my hand, and I munched on it as I stared at the slowly growing group.

"So," I mumbled around the candy, "who else?"

A polite cough, definitely fake, rippled through the air. The Qi pressure changed immediately.

Someone had arrived.

Standing just behind Jia Sen was a woman wrapped in imperial purple, one leg provocatively shown through the slit of her high-cut cheongsam. Her presence was sharp and unapologetic, and the moment she took a step forward, everyone noticed.

Tenth Realm.

"Blocking the door, are we?" she said lazily, her voice like honey drizzled over sharp steel. "What's an old fossil like you doing here? Unsightly. That's what you are."

Jia Sen didn't even flinch. He just kept smiling with that grandfatherly kindness that now felt like a mask more than a personality.

"Oh, have some patience, Zai Ai," he replied with mock sympathy. "You aren't getting any younger yourself."

Zai Ai narrowed her eyes but otherwise seemed amused. Before she could bite back, Nongmin stepped in with all the poise of someone who knew when to drop a little oil on the fire before it burned down the manor.

"Zai Ai," he said smoothly, "thank you for honoring us with your presence."

It was diplomatic code for: Don't start something in front of the guests, please.

Jia Sen tilted his head, clearly intrigued. "An independent cultivator with Tenth Realm cultivation, returning to the Empire's doorstep? Curious. Unless…" he leaned forward with mock conspiratorial glee, "this is another one of your summons, Your Majesty?"

I couldn't help myself.

I muttered, "So a booty call then?"

Silence.

Several heads turned to look at me.

I shrugged, lips still red from the candy. "What? We're all thinking it."

Liang Na turned away and covered her mouth. Tao Long gave me the side-eye of a man deeply reconsidering his life choices. Jia Yun… looked like she wanted to die.

Zai Ai, to her credit, laughed.

"Oh, I would love to have romantic entanglements with His Majesty," she said without shame. "But no. I'm here on official matters."

She gave Jia Sen a pointed glance.

"I'm helping my little disciple."

Jia Sen snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes! Your disciple. I remember now. He's starting some sort of business venture… the Adventurer's Guild, is it?"

Zai Ai's smile was wicked. "That's right."

The mention of the Adventurer's Guild caught my attention like a thunderclap in a library.

Back on Earth, in the game LLO, the Adventurer's Guild had been the nexus for quests, rumors, impossible bosses, and broken mechanics. It was a behemoth of a faction, sprawling and powerful, interwoven into nearly every major questline. But here? In this world? It was just a fledgling idea, barely standing.

I licked sugar off my fingers, eyes flicking to Zai Ai. "So, your disciple runs the Adventurer's Guild?"

Zai Ai raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised I spoke in full sentences. "He's the founder. A bit idealistic, but competent. He'll be arriving at the summit with members of the Martial Alliance, if their egos don't drag them into some scenic detour."

Jia Sen gave an exaggerated sigh. "Ah yes, the Martial Alliance. Puffed-up peacocks too proud to admit their legacy's rusted."

Zai Ai didn't even turn to him. "Says the man who trains brats in seclusion and calls it 'wisdom.'"

They kept at it, flinging barbs like children tossing rocks in a pond. I zoned out briefly, watching a spiral of light curl lazily around Tao Long's fingertip, probably some idle formation script he was playing with to keep from stabbing someone.

Eventually, Nongmin had enough. "We're leaving," he said flatly, the emperor in him momentarily surfacing.

The bickering stopped. Even Jia Sen turned serious. "Where will the World Summit be held this time?" he asked.

Nongmin gave a faint nod. "As usual… somewhere new. A realm just opened to the north, past the Empire's edge. Unstable, but safe enough for now. We'll need to travel nonstop at cultivation speed if we want to arrive before the sealing window closes."

Translation: No stopping to pick up weaklings. If you couldn't keep up, you didn't come.

Zai Ai's gaze drifted toward me, her eyes narrowing. Her lips tugged down into a frown. "Weird kid," she muttered.

I sat up straighter and narrowed my eyes. I wasn't sure whether to be offended or proud. I mean… she was weird. Was she expecting a toddler to not chew on a sugar cane sword like it was a heavenly artifact?

Nongmin, naturally, stepped in with an air of forced patience. "Young Wei can handle himself."

That was my cue. I leaned forward, putting a bit of manic fire into my brat impression, and said loudly, "Yeah, you heard that right, hag! Go die in a ditch!"

Gasps. Some audible. Tao Long dropped the glowing spiral he was forming. Jia Yun looked like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

Zai Ai blinked slowly. Her face said, 'I am seriously considering vaporizing this child.'

"You little…"

"Come on!" I shouted, grinning like a gremlin. "Murder this bratty imp! Let's go! Finish the job, scary auntie!"

Her palm twitched. For a second, I thought she might actually do it.

Nongmin cleared his throat and stepped in between us with infuriating grace. "Wei," he said with a tight smile, "we behave properly in front of honored guests."

He turned to Zai Ai, giving a respectful bow of the head. "Forgive him. He's… spirited."

Zai Ai huffed, brushing nonexistent dust from her shoulder. "He's lucky I'm feeling generous."

"Lucky you," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "I'd erase you with the flick of my finger…"

Okay, I should turn off the bratty impression a bit.

Still, I took a step back and resumed sucking on my candy stick. Maybe I pushed that one a little far. But I could feel it… Zai Ai wasn't the kind to lash out randomly. She was testing me. Measuring something.

And I'd passed, somehow, by being the world's most annoying child.

Then, Nongmin raised a hand. "There's no need to burn our cultivation for travel," he said, casually brushing aside the invisible weight of awkwardness. "I've had something prepared."

Jia Sen scoffed. "What, you planning to use a teleportation formation large enough to transport all of us? Our existence… is too big for a teleportation formation. It would cost a fortune. To borrow your words, it's inefficient!"

"I don't like inefficiency," Nongmin said, voice smooth with that smug imperial confidence.

He raised one foot and stomped lightly. It didn't shake the ground. There was neither a dramatic earthquake nor a shockwave, but the response was immediate. The floor beneath us lit up with a pulse of golden light.

Lines, glyphs, and runes ignited, unfurling like blooming lotus petals across the stone tiles. They curved, twined, and folded in on themselves, creating complex loops that pulsed with qi so dense I felt my skin buzz. It was a masterstroke of formation craft, the kind that didn't just scream xianxia, it sang it like an opera chorus.

I didn't even bother pretending I wasn't impressed. My jaw might've hung open for a second. I'd seen Ren Xun use formations before—his had an elegance born from intuition, almost like he danced with the symbols. I'd seen the Formation Specialists we brought to the Promised Dunes too, all scrolls and dust and sweat.

But this? This was next-level.

The entire scrummy manor shook. Then it lifted.

We rose slowly, the structure humming around us as the formation glowed brighter. I stepped back, almost bumping into Zai Ai, and turned to look out one of the open walls.

Yellow Dragon City spread beneath us like a painting, lanterns flickering like fireflies in the dusk.

"You're levitating the house?" I asked.

Nongmin smiled. "The structure was always a ship. Just disguised."

As we lifted higher, the roof peeled back with a hiss of escaping spiritual pressure. Panels unfolded from the sides, reshaping themselves like petals of a metallic lotus into sleek hull plating. The interior warped and rearranged: walls shifting, furniture folding flat, and wood becoming silver and white jade alloy.

Jia Yun hurried in, pulling her sleeves close. Jia Sen followed with the careful steps of someone trying not to admit they were impressed. Zai Ai said nothing, but her eyes roamed the interior with the quiet attentiveness of someone updating a mental dossier.

When the transformation was done, we were standing in what looked more like a floating palace than a flying ship.

I whistled. "This thing got a name?"

Nongmin folded his arms behind his back. "Usually, it's Sikao Biaoji who names the ships…"

I blinked. "Wait. So there's someone whose job is just… naming them?"

He gave a small nod. "Among other responsibilities. But yes, he believes names define the spirit of a vessel."

"Damn," I said. "That guy's got a nice gig."

Then, without thinking, I added, "Let me name it."

He arched a brow. "You sure you won't regret it?"

"Nope," I said, with the unshakable confidence of a man who had definitely played too many online games and watched too much anime. "Call it… Megatron."

There was a long silence.

Even Jia Yun blinked.

Nongmin gave a faint, polite chuckle. "Very well. From now on, this ship shall bear the name Megatron."

Zai Ai squinted at me like she was trying to figure out if "Megatron" was some kind of ancient beast or demonic incantation. Jia Sen snorted.

I patted the nearest silver railing. "Good girl, Megatron. Let's fly."

And just like that, the most advanced flying artifact in the Empire took to the skies, powered by the peak of xianxia engineering and named after a Saturday morning cartoon villain.

It was beautiful.

151 Little Shit

It hadn't even been ten minutes into our flight on the Megatron when Zai Ai started looking for her ring, her brows furrowing in what looked suspiciously like rising panic. She patted down her sleeves, then her sash, then made a little whirl halfway down the corridor like she was hoping she'd catch it falling through a portal in reverse.

Huh… So her perception sucked.

I reckoned the Emperor was the exception, fairly recalling the one time I tried to steal from his treasure hoard by sneakily spamming my Divine Sense and Item Box in tandem.

How was I supposed to pretend to be a little shit of a genius if no one could see my feats?

Meh~! It was fine either way…

"Has anyone seen my Storage Ring?" she asked, trying to sound calm but failing miserably. "It was just on my hand. A moment ago."

Jia Sen didn't even try to hide the smirk. "Amazing," he said. "So young and already forgetting your things. What a prodigy." He clapped slowly, mock applause echoing off the ship's crystalline walls.

Zai Ai glared at him. "I'm being serious."

"I am too," he replied smoothly. "Serious admiration. Very inspiring."

Jia Yun made a noise like a stifled sneeze, which I was pretty sure was her trying not to laugh.

I kept my face blank. That's the key to misdirection: not looking guilty when you absolutely are.

Because yeah. I stole it.

The moment I bumped into her earlier, right between our delightful exchange of creative insults and the ship taking off, I palmed the ring and slid it into my Item Box with the kind of practiced ease that should've belonged to a rogue, not a holy knight. But hey, I was no longer in a game, and class restrictions were long gone.

I was a Paladin, sure. But what was stopping me from picking up more Sub-Class?

Nothing.

That thought alone had me buzzing. Maybe I still needed to find a Legacy Advancement Book to unlock rogue talents formally, but clearly, the boundaries of my old world's system were dissolving. Skills bled into each other now. Morality, too. I wasn't trying to be a thief. It just happened. Like tripping over a rock and landing on a chest full of loot.

Yep, I'm a ball of contradiction!

In my defense, it wasn't about the ring. It was about the look she kept giving Nongmin. That soft, downturned glance when she thought he wasn't watching. The way her body turned slightly toward him whenever he spoke, like he was the only gravity in the room. It was subtle. But I noticed.

And so did he.

Nongmin hadn't said a word since Zai Ai brought up the missing ring. He was just standing there, hands behind his back, eyes locked on me like I was a particularly noisy ghost he'd chosen not to exorcise yet.

Yeah. He knew.

He definitely knew.

And yet… he said nothing.

Which made me feel worse, honestly. Because it wasn't like I wanted to make Zai Ai miserable. She had that particular brand of elder-youngster energy that made me want to break a teacup over her head. But still.

I didn't hate her.

It was just one of those moods I'd get cranky, unapologetic… and impatient.

On top of that, I just felt weirdly, irrationally protective of Nongmin. The guy was emotionally constipated on a level I hadn't seen since every sad dad in every fantasy JRPG ever. And yet, despite his terrifying power and high-level stoicism, he had this sort of dumb, wide-eyed sincerity under all that regality. Like if someone cared for him, even a little, he wouldn't know what to do with it.

So... when Zai Ai gave him that glance? I felt… twitchy. Not jealous, not exactly. More like suspicious older brother energy.

It made me wonder why Xin Yune hadn't told me anything about this dynamic. I mean, come on. This was the scoop of the millennium. Nongmin and Zai Ai? If that ship was even possible, how had the Empress of the Empire's Secrets not spilled it?

Was she laughing at me from beyond the grave?

...Probably.

"Maybe the Honored Seat dropped it during the ship formation," Jia Yun offered politely. "I believe the Honored Seat was on the far side of the hallway."

"Maybe," Zai Ai muttered, clearly not believing that but unwilling to escalate the matter without proof. "But lass, I am a Tenth Realm cultivator… Do you think I'll drop my own darn Storage Ring for something so simple like that?"

I didn't say anything. Just kept my expression blank and focused on a nonexistent scratch on the wall.

Eventually, Nongmin spoke. "We'll arrive in three days' time if we maintain current velocity. Until then, rest. Or meditate. Or whatever it is you people do when not accusing each other of thievery."

He turned without another word, robe fluttering behind him like he was already over the entire situation. I followed his back with my eyes.

He didn't ask for the ring back.

Did that mean he approved?

...Did that make me the bad guy?

"Hey," I said, too quickly. Zai Ai turned toward me. "When I find your ring, I'll return it. Just... try not to look too betrayed, alright?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You know where it is? How suspicious..."

I shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."

She stepped forward, raising a hand like she was seriously considering smacking me across the face.

I pointed at my cheek. "Go on. Hit me. It's not like I'll dodge."

The moment dragged. Then she huffed and turned away, muttering something about insufferable gremlins.

I exhaled.

Just another normal day on the Megatron.

Here's the thing about being a gamer: we loved loot.

We didn't just love it, we lived for it. Whether it was raiding boss chests, farming drop zones for that 0.2% drop rate, or pulling gacha rolls at 2 a.m. with all the reckless hope of a man lighting fireworks inside a gas station… loot made us tick.

But if we existed in real life like how we existed in our games? We'd probably be put in prison. Or a mental hospital. Or straight-up found dead in an alley, impaled on a rare sword we couldn't unequip.

Even a Paladin like me—technically holy, mostly noble, debatably lawful—had his moments of weakness. Or strength, depending on how you viewed opportunistic thievery.

I waited until everyone had shuffled off the corridor. Zai Ai stomped back toward her quarters like the hallway had insulted her ancestors, and Jia Sen had wandered off humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like the Emperor's anthem but off-key on purpose.

I reached into my Item Box and pulled out the Storage Ring.

Time for some reconnaissance.

I closed my eyes, activated Divine Sense, and pushed my awareness inside. It felt a little like sifting through a very judgmental closet.

No traps. No spiritual guardians. Just rows of spatial compartments, neat and tidy… and filled with disappointment.

"Come on…" I muttered.

No jade slips. No secret manuals. No sword scrolls inscribed with forbidden lightning techniques that could vaporize enemies and emotionally cripple their families.

Just… clothes.

Specifically, robes. A dozen varieties. Battle robes. Cultivation robes. Casual "I'm-not-trying-but-I'm-still-hot" robes. Some even looked tailor-made to match certain lighting conditions—was she color-coding by time of day?

"Oh my god," I whispered. "Is this… a vanity ring?"

And then there were the portraits.

I paused, squinting at one.

It was a spiritual sketch, one of those animated types that moved slightly if you looked long enough. Zai Ai, striking a dramatic pose against a backdrop of mountains and mist, wind tugging at her hair while a crane circled overhead like it had been paid to photobomb.

I found five more just like it.

Each one had different poses. In one, she was meditating under a waterfall. In another, she was dual-wielding spirit sabers with a little spark effect that probably cost extra.

This was not a treasure trove.

This was a highlight reel.

There were spirit stones, hundreds and thousands of them, glowing gently in the corner like obedient puppies, but I didn't dare take those. Someone like her would notice the exact weight and spiritual balance of her currency pile down to the decimal.

Techniques, though? Those I could've copied on a separate piece of paper while in the shitter. That was the plan. Just good ol' bathroom piracy.

But there were none. Not even a basic cultivation method. I found a comb imbued with wind affinity and a tea set that auto-boiled, but no manuals.

I sighed.

My day was ruined.

Closing the ring and slipping it back into my inventory, I leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling. Light from the ship's core pulsed faintly through the translucent panels above me, bathing the corridor in a soft blue glow.

"I'm in my villain arc," I muttered.

Then paused.

"No. Actually… this is the start of my little shit arc."

There was a difference.

A villain planned. Had schemes. Goals. World domination. Long-term bitterness.

Me?

I was just vibing in moral gray. Low-stakes chaos. Annoying people slightly to make myself feel better while desperately hoping my karma didn't stack too high too fast.

I stretched and wandered toward the dining hall. Might as well grab something to eat before I started casing Jia Sen's ring next. That smug bastard had to have something worth copying. If Zai Ai was hoarding fashion accessories, maybe Jia Sen was hoarding something actually illegal.

Or at least embarrassing.

The thought made me grin.

Then I paused, mid-step, because Nongmin was standing at the edge of the hall's entrance, holding a cup of what looked like plum tea. His gaze was level, as always.

But this time, when he looked at me, he raised an eyebrow.

Not in judgment.

In amusement.

I blinked.

"Problem?" I asked.

He took a slow sip. "Did you learn what you needed?"

I narrowed my eyes. "You knew."

"I always know," he said mildly. "You're not as subtle as you think."

I flushed, more from embarrassment than guilt. "Why didn't you stop me?"

He considered that, then gave a tiny shrug. "She deserves to be humbled now and then."

I blinked again.

That was… unexpected.

He added, "Though next time, ask. Theft lacks elegance."

"Right," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "So you're okay with me… you know. Picking through people's rings?"

He gave me a look.

I raised both hands. "Purely for information!"

He rolled his eyes, an honest-to-gods eye roll from the Emperor of Grand Ascension Empire or whatever title he had now.

"Just don't get caught. And don't touch my ring."

I snorted. "Got it."

And just like that, he walked off with the faintest smile at the corners of his mouth.

I stood there a second longer, wondering what kind of fever dream I was living in where the Emperor was encouraging my petty crime career, and why it weirdly felt like he approved of my chaos.

Yep. Definitely the little shit arc.

"Okay, what's next?"

The Megatron was many things: massive, mysterious, and a marvel of artifact engineering, but above all else, it was weirdly domestic on the inside. We each had personal quarters, real beds, and door handles made of jade-inlaid starmetal. The walls had subtle formation scripts that glowed faintly with mood lighting. There was even a damn bonsai room. A bonsai room. If it weren't for the occasional flash of lightning across the view panels or the muted hum of flying at ridiculous speeds through the upper stratosphere, I'd have assumed we were living inside someone's fancy mountain estate.

Naturally, I took this as permission to act like a gremlin.

Over the past three days, I'd been entertaining myself the only way I knew how: by being a little shit.

For example, on the second morning, I walked into the central corridor, flopped dramatically onto one of the jade benches, and groaned loud enough for the entire ship to hear.

"No chef?" I whined. "Really? You bring me to some god-tier flying fortress, and you expect me to reheat my own dumplings?"

Zai Ai was meditating. Her eye twitched.

Jia Sen blinked at me like I was an exotic insect he hadn't studied yet.

Nongmin, ever the bastion of regality and passive-aggression, just stared.

I pressed harder. "Are you telling me the Empire couldn't spare one culinary cultivator? One soulfire baker? Not even a Spirit Stew Grandmaster? You know food affects qi flow, right? What if I die from improperly steamed buns?"

"Nongmin, discipline your grandson," Zai Ai muttered without opening her eyes as she expressed her complaints in Qi Speech to Nongmin from her quarters. "Or I will do it."

"See? That's the spirit!" I beamed. "Even she agrees."

Nongmin looked seconds away from teleporting into deep space just to avoid further social interaction. His hands folded tightly behind his back as he walked past me. "Your quarters are fully stocked… with food. Use the talismans if you must, so go and cook for yourself."

"Yeah, but then it feels like I'm eating scrolls. It's emotionally unsatisfying."

"Then meditate on that dissatisfaction."

God, he was such a nerd.

Zai Ai muttered something about 'scrubbing me off the deck with a broom' and turned away. Jia Sen, whom I still hadn't decided if I liked or hated, gave me this slow, smug smile like he was recording my tantrum in a mental ledger.

But honestly? It was worth it.

That night, I returned Zai Ai's Storage Ring. Slipped it onto her finger while she was deep meditating, right after triple-checking she wasn't going to open her eyes and explode me on reflex. I might be a gremlin, but I wasn't suicidal, whether it be physical suicide or social suicide. I even used Divine Word: Rest, because I could be such a brat sometimes.

"Not so worth it… Man, I got my priorities so wrong sometimes..."

Two days in, I pulled the same trick on Jia Sen. He didn't even notice, probably too busy studying that flower manual he kept in his Storage Ring. A whole technique scroll about horticulture. Tenth Realm cultivator, and he was obsessed with the spiritual harmony of petunias.

What was with these people?

You'd think two peak cultivators would be hoarding doomsday techniques and forbidden soul arts. But no. They had tea blends, paintings, flower books, and robes so ugly they must have been enchanted to repel criticism.

I didn't steal anything permanent. Just copied some manuals. Mostly out of curiosity. I figured if I ever needed to start a flower shop or impersonate a scholar, I'd be covered.

Eventually, the ship began descending. The Megatron didn't land like normal flying vessels. It phased downward, the warping formations humming with ridiculous precision. Nongmin's control over the formation scripts was terrifying. At one point, he literally rewrote the space-time pathway of the ship mid-flight to bypass a dimensional fog pocket. And he did it in under two minutes, like he was editing a spreadsheet.

By the time we reached sea level again after that stunt, I felt like I'd gone through five stomachs and left my soul somewhere near the troposphere. I really should've stayed in my room.

We emerged onto the deck as the mist cleared, revealing our destination. The ocean sparkled below like molten silver. Cliffs rose jagged and proud, and there, nestled between mountain and shoreline, was the outline of a fortress still under construction. It wasn't just stone and scaffolding—it was alive with qi, glowing runes etched into every tower spire, shimmering barriers weaving between construction crews. It looked like someone had tried to manifest a city out of a dream.

Liang Na, who had appeared out of nowhere like a polite ghost, clasped her hands behind her back and said, "Each World Summit is hosted at a neutral site… and each time, a city or fortress is built by a joint alliance of attending factions. It is symbolic of cooperation."

"More like a show of power," Tao Long said, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.

"Sometimes both," Liang Na replied mildly. "This time, the fortress is sponsored by the Martial Alliance. They serve as this summit's host."

Nongmin nodded. "Their leader, Grandmaster Yi Qiu, selected this location for strategic and spiritual resonance. Earth qi converges with ocean qi here. It also makes escape difficult. An ideal setting for... diplomacy."

Zai Ai snorted. "You mean an ideal setting for passive-aggressive threats cloaked in flowery language and tea ceremonies."

"Ah," I said, grinning. "So a family reunion, but with swords."

No one laughed. Figures.

I leaned on the railing and looked out at the growing fortress. So much was happening. Powers aligning. Tensions building. It felt like the prelude to a war, dressed up in robes and polite smiles.

I cracked my knuckles.

Good. I was getting bored anyway.

"So… how often does this World Summit thing happen, exactly?" I asked, my hands resting behind my head as I leaned back against the rail of the Megatron's deck. The ocean breeze tousled my hair, and I squinted out toward the fortress rising from the beach and stone.

Tao Long, who had been standing like a statue for the past hour, spoke without turning his head. "Roughly once a century. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. Depends on the signs."

"Once a century?" I whistled. "Not exactly your local monthly town hall meeting."

"The timing," Nongmin added from nearby, "corresponds to the opening of a new realm."

That made me pause.

"…Wait, what do you mean by 'realm'?"

He gave me a sidelong look, as if trying to figure out how to explain to someone who still occasionally forgot spirit stones weren't edible. "A new realm. An unexplored world. Often with its own laws of qi, ecology, treasures, and dangers. Sometimes it's a pocket dimension. Sometimes it's something larger. A whole world."

My mouth opened slightly. "You mean… You guys discover a whole-ass new dimension every century like it's some seasonal event?"

"More or less," Tao Long said.

That was… No. Hold on.

That was crazy. Insanely crazy!

Back on Earth, we spent centuries just trying to figure out if aliens existed or if Atlantis was real. These people? "Oh yeah, another world just cracked open in the void again, better hold a summit." What next? A "Mystic Realm Loyalty Program"? Collect nine entry tokens, and get the tenth realm free?

Nongmin must've seen the look on my face. "It's not always predictable. Sometimes a realm devours the cultivators who enter it. Sometimes the realm itself becomes sentient. But yes, roughly every hundred years, something opens… and when it does, the major powers gather to divide access."

Of course. Because nothing said 'civilized diplomacy' like carving up a newly discovered world like pizza slices at a college dorm.

The Megatron slowly began its descent, its formation rings folding in with a series of soft, harmonic hums. Nongmin didn't bother landing the ship properly—he let it hover a meter off the sand, hovering like a boastful god refusing to touch dirt. With a flick of his fingers, a glowing plank extended from the side of the ship and gently thudded onto the beach.

I hopped down first.

Instant regret.

"Ugh. Sand. On. My. Feet," I hissed, brushing at my boots. "You couldn't have parked us on the stone, seriously?"

Tao Long and Liang Na followed close behind, silent as ever. I was starting to realize they weren't really my companions as much as my designated handlers. Maybe I should've been offended. Then again, with my track record, maybe I should've been grateful they didn't put a leash on me.

I'd dare them to put a leash on me, though… I'll throw hands.

To my right, Jia Yun clung to her father's side. Jia Sen had already taken out a golden slip and was imprinting a message into it with a narrow stream of qi, probably some political notice or invitation scroll. His robes fluttered slightly in the breeze, and he looked like someone who never once had to deal with chafing in his life.

He turned to Nongmin and offered a shallow bow. "I'll go ahead to join the Heavenly Temple delegation. They should be assembling on the main platform. I'll inform the other participants of the Empire's arrival."

"Much appreciated," Nongmin said, clasping his hands politely. "If it's not too troublesome, let them know the Empire is interested in maintaining a… mutually respectful relationship with the Temple. Friendly, if possible."

Jia Sen smiled faintly. "If it's possible, then it shall be done. If not, I'll find a way to make it possible."

Classic cultivator answer, say nothing clearly, but sound wise as hell while doing it.

He departed with his daughter in tow, their silhouettes shrinking against the expanse of rising scaffolds and gleaming formation pillars from a distance. They sure could move fast. I watched them go, thinking to myself how I should behave for the rest of the day.

"You think he'll actually put in a good word?" I asked.

Nongmin didn't answer immediately. "He will. He understands the value of appearances."

"Mm," I nodded. "And here I thought the summit would be boring."

Tao Long gave me a flat look. "You still have no idea what's going to happen, so stay on your toes, young master."

"Young master? Ah, never mind... I usually don't have an idea," I said with a grin. "That's the point. But that's half the fun of life, right? At least, if it's a Shenyuan situation, I won't weep if any of you suddenly kicks the bucket… wait, too far? Is it too far? Yeah, too far… I should dial down my brattiness index."

152 Seeds of Civilization

"So, what are we waiting for?" I asked, half-expecting someone to snap and tell me to shut up. "Do we just stand here on the sand like decorative idiots or…?"

Nongmin didn't even blink. "They will send someone to greet us. I've already informed our hosts."

Of course he had. Everything he did was three steps ahead and filed in triplicate. For someone who ruled an empire, the man had the patience of a monk playing chess against time itself.

Zai Ai sighed beside him, a sound that somehow conveyed both spiritual exhaustion and maternal disappointment. "You should be disciplined."

That again.

"For the ninth time, your method of speaking is disgraceful. Crude. It will offend someone important one day. And that day might as well have been today."

"I don't know about that," I said, smirking. "Besides, shouldn't you be out there, I don't know, searching for your disciple or whatever? Why're you here wasting time picking fights with me?"

Her eyes narrowed into sharp slits. "If you weren't the Emperor's grandson, I'd teach you some manners."

"Oh, would you?" I said, stepping forward with my hands out, egging her on. "Go on, hit me. Right here. I won't even dodge."

Zai Ai raised her hand, but only to fix a loose strand of hair that hadn't even moved.

Nongmin stood to the side like a stone statue watching children squabble. "Little Wei," he said, yes, he'd started calling me that recently, the bastard… "can handle himself. He speaks as he pleases because he lives as he pleases."

I threw a smug look Zai Ai's way. "See? Grandpa says I'm special."

She scoffed. "Special like a cursed cauldron."

We didn't have time for a comeback, because that's when they arrived.

A group of cultivators in blue and black robes approached, each embroidered with a bold silver character on the chest that read 武 (Martial), the Martial Alliance's symbol. The group was led by a man with a golden sash wrapped around his waist, denoting status without ostentation. His qi presence rippled gently in the air like wind through water. His qi was firm, but not aggressive. He wasn't some bottom-rung escort. His cultivation was solidly Fourth Realm. Honestly, closer to Fifth.

Yup. That tracked. I had a feeling that by the end of this summit, if you weren't Fourth Realm or above, you might as well be in charge of catering.

The golden-sash man stepped forward, offering a martial artist's bow, fist against palm, low and respectful.

"Honored Emperor," he said with clarity and force. "I am Ma Lin of the Martial Alliance, honored to serve as one of the welcoming delegates for this summit."

Nongmin returned the gesture with grace that felt more imperial than any golden dragon robe ever could. "I am pleased to be received, Ma Lin. My people and I are grateful for your hospitality."

Ma Lin turned and gestured to the palanquin behind him. It was elegantly built, with curved handles of lacquered spiritwood and engraved runes glowing faintly in the morning sun. Carried by six cultivators in perfect synchronicity, it seemed to float rather than be lifted.

Nongmin stepped forward and ascended the palanquin in one fluid motion. No rustling of fabric, no awkward shuffle… just a man used to the fact that every floor beneath him should rise on command.

I gave a low whistle as I watched him settle in. "Nice. He's doing the whole 'untouchable emperor' bit today."

"Better than your 'idiot vagrant' impression," Zai Ai muttered beside me. "Now, behave…"

"Hey, I work hard on acting like this."

She raised an eyebrow at that, seemingly confused.

Ma Lin offered, "We can take your ship to the staging grounds. The Martial Alliance has cleared space for such artifacts."

Nongmin shook his head politely. "No need. I'll store it myself."

Store it… himself?

I blinked. That was the first time I'd heard of pocket dimensions actually being casually used like that. I mean, sure, people always mentioned storing rings and bags, but this was on a different level. The Megatron was the size of a damn manor and a flying artifact on top of that, and Nongmin just said he'd put it away like it was a coat.

I frowned to myself. So that's why most of the Storage Rings I snatched back then felt nearly empty. No weird scrolls, no powerful talismans, just weird pastries or flower manuals. They were using something else for the real loot. Great. More reading to do.

It seemed I still underestimated high level cultivators. I wondered at what Realm would they start possessing pocket dimensions? Ugh… It was tough my reading time being interrupted again and again, but hopefully, I'd be able to continue polishing my knowledge of this world… I should have a lot of free time in between days of the summit.

With a casual wave of his hand, Nongmin activated a formation with precise, practiced movements. Runes flared beneath the ship's hull. The Megatron shivered, then began to shrink, collapsing in on itself into a shimmering string of light. That ribbon of brilliance curled through the air before landing softly in Nongmin's palm. He closed his fingers around it, storing it with a flicker of spatial turbulence.

"Let's proceed," he said.

The rest of us followed behind the palanquin: Zai Ai, ever-judgmental and sharp-eyed; Tao Long and Liang Na flanking me like glorified babysitters. I didn't mind Liang Na, she was fun to mess with and less prone to lecturing. Tao Long just kept his arms folded and said nothing, but I caught him side-eyeing me from time to time like I was a wild animal pretending to wear a human face.

Ma Lin kept pace with us, polite but observant. His eyes flicked toward me now and then, probably trying to figure out what rank I held or whether I had any value beyond being dead weight… or sometime soon, a very annoying brat.

I looked at the massive construction site ahead of us, where the fortress-to-be clung to both mountain and shore like some kind of hybrid beast. Workers flew from scaffold to scaffold, hurling spells and stones alike.

"How long do you think it'll take before it's done?" I asked Ma Lin, genuinely curious. "Looks like it's gonna be massive."

Liang Na nudged me with her elbow. "You should introduce yourself before asking questions like that. It's rude, even if you're trying to act charming."

Then, in Qi Speech, she whispered in my ear: 'Don't use your real name. Not here. You're Mei Wei for now.'

Ah. Right. Cover names. Political summit. Cultivation world etiquette.

I gave Ma Lin a crooked smile. "Name's Mei Wei," I said. "Sorry. I'm still new to all this."

Liang Na added smoothly, "He's His Majesty's grandson. Please excuse his behavior… he's been spoiled since birth."

I resisted the urge to shoot her a look. Spoiled? Maybe. But that wasn't the full story. Still, I let it go. I was undercover, technically.

Ma Lin repeated my fake name under his breath. "...Mei Wei?"

The name rolled oddly off his tongue. He tilted his head slightly. I could tell he was trying to recall if any royal branches used the surname Mei. There weren't any, of course. That was the point.

He didn't press. "To answer your question, young master Mei," he said, his tone even, "the fortress should be completed within seven days. With the joint efforts of various sects and the Martial Alliance overseeing the central formations, it will be done in time for the opening rituals."

"Opening rituals?" I asked.

Ma Lin inclined his head. "Of course. The World Summit cannot begin without the Blessing Rite and the Pact Assembly. Tradition, after all."

"Sounds official."

"It is," Liang Na muttered under her breath, lips twitching. "So don't say anything embarrassing."

I rolled my eyes. Like I ever said anything that…

Okay. Maybe once. Or twice. A day.

But still. I could behave.

Sort of.

Still…

Seven days.

That was a long time, relatively speaking. Long enough for shit to quickly hit the fan.

Back during the Yellow Dragon Festival, I barely had two days to myself before everything snowballed. What started as a casual walk turned into scuffles, then into a conspiracies, then into a full-blown brawl with what amounted to a literal devil from hell. My first real fight. First serious battle in this world with its freaky energy system and nightmarish stakes.

And gods, I had been so clumsy.

I remembered fumbling, frustrated at how slow I moved. I'd been using 'my skills' like a player abusing cooldowns in a game, but movement techniques were still awkward. Too many limbs, too many physics rules I hadn't adapted to. It didn't help that my foe at that time could fly. I wasn't born with an inner core or dragon blood or spirit wind under my feet. Just stats. Just a system. And despite that, somehow I delivered.

Now, standing on this path to the World Summit, I couldn't help but think what another seven days might do to me.

"Seven days is a lot of time," I muttered.

Ma Lin nodded. "The Summit will begin once all the great powers have arrived. If schedules hold, seven days seems likely."

"And if they don't hold?" I asked.

Ma Lin allowed himself a small smile. "Then we wait longer. Tradition says no opening ceremony without all parties present."

Tao Long, arms folded and tone sharp as ever, interjected, "Aren't you saying a little too much, daoist Ma? Bit bold, talking about who's late and who's not. Isn't that revealing dirt under your own alliance's fingernails?"

I could tell he wasn't really scolding him. Just poking the bear. Cultivators did that a lot. Nobody said what they meant. It was all posture and layered intention. Still tripped me up.

Ma Lin shrugged, relaxed and unbothered. "It's no secret. The Heavenly Temple arrived before us. There was some… contention. Tempers flared."

"And?" I asked.

"And," Ma Lin said, "after mediation, it was agreed the Temple was at fault."

I raised an eyebrow. "So what you're saying is: technically you're not throwing dirt on yourself, you're chucking it at someone else and calling it a resolved misunderstanding."

That earned a short laugh from him. "You are not wrong, young master Mei."

"And the Union?" I asked.

"They'll arrive late," Ma Lin said. "But they will attend. They always do. For them, the Summit is less about diplomacy and more about recruitment."

We arrived at a jade platform, polished smooth and glowing faintly with sigils along its surface. A wide disc just sitting there at the edge of a path like an ancient elevator in the xianxia kind of way.

I stepped onto it and casually swept my Divine Sense across its surface. The formation felt elegant, refined, and modular. Somehow, I understood this tech better than the Empire's version, like someone had finally written the code in a language I could read. It wasn't brute-forced, just… efficient. Beautiful.

With a low hum, the platform rose.

As we ascended, the full scale of the city came into view. Not fortress, but a city! I could see it now. The thick stone walls were only the skeleton. What sprawled beyond them was a living organism of tents, scaffolds, rooftops, and fires. Mortals and cultivators swarmed below like ants… constructing, repairing, arguing, and living.

There were banners and flags of different clans. Cooking stalls. Tents where people slept beside their wares. Children ran between carts. Not all of them wore robes or fancy insignias. Most of them didn't. Most were ordinary. Human.

Ma Lin turned slightly, catching my expression.

"During World Summits," he explained, "the four great powers agreed to bring in refugees from war-torn lands. Mortals seeking a better life, or adventurers hoping to settle in new territory. This place will become a city long before it becomes a battlefield."

I didn't say anything at first.

Instead, I just stood there.

"It looks nice."

People lived here.

People worked. They fought, yes. But they also dreamed. They also built homes and stalls and lives. So much of what I'd seen in this world revolved around violence… cutthroat cultivation, assassinations, clan betrayals, and demonic invasions. I'd almost forgotten what it looked like when people just… lived.

I mean… The Imperial Capital had it too in spades, regarding their common citizenry, but this was different.

My throat tightened slightly.

I wasn't from this world, but this? This part? This I understood.

"I like this," I said, my voice quieter than I expected. "I really like this."

We stopped in front of what could only be described as a high-end inn. No, pavilion would be the right word for it. Tall redwood columns framed the entrance, each one carved with cloud motifs and coated in spiritual lacquer that shimmered faintly under the setting sun. There were gold inlays along the windows and polished white stone underfoot that didn't carry a single trace of dust.

It reeked of luxury and power.

Ma Lin stepped ahead of us and gestured toward the entrance like a respectful host. "This inn has been prepared in advance for esteemed guests. The staff have been informed of your identities and will accommodate any needs you may have. Please, there's no need to hold back."

"No need to hold back," I repeated under my breath. "I'm sure that won't go horribly wrong."

Zai Ai ignored me, of course. She stepped forward, her robes barely rustling. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were sharp. "I'm looking for my disciple," she said. "His name is Mao Xian. Male. Androgynous features, Adventurer's Guild master. He's affiliated with the Martial Alliance."

Ma Lin offered her a polite bow. "Yes, Grandmaster. Mao Xian is known to us. He arrived several days ago but has since departed."

Zai Ai's face didn't change, but I noticed the air shift around her slightly. Just a bit of her Qi leaking.

Ma Lin was unfazed as he continued. "A few experts, including Mao Xian and the Grandmaster of the Martial Alliance chose to begin exploring the new realm while preparations for the Summit continue."

I raised an eyebrow. "Exploring already? That's allowed?"

"It's an unspoken rule," Ma Lin said. "Whoever hosts the Summit gains the rights to the first expedition. A tradition rooted in respect… and practicality. After all, when so many armies and sects gather, it's only natural for some to go adventuring while the bureaucrats argue."

Zai Ai gave a small nod and turned away, already heading toward her assigned room. She was probably going to cultivate until she got word of her disciple again.

Ma Lin gave one final bow and smiled at all of us. "If you need anything, send word. I will be nearby."

With that, he left.

Nongmin wasted no time. He turned on his heel and walked toward his room, calling over his shoulder without even looking at me. "Little Wei. Come inside."

I followed, shutting the door behind me. As I did, I caught a flicker of movement… It was Tao Long. My Divine Sense picked him up loitering just outside, casually walking past the room, too casual. He was either there to eavesdrop or guard the door. Probably both. That was part of his job now, wasn't it?

Zai Ai had already retreated to her room, settling in for whatever long meditation or cultivation session she liked to drown herself in. As for Liang Na… Well, she wasn't even in the inn anymore. My Divine Sense picked her up as a streak of motion flitting between rooftops, vanishing down a side street.

"Where's Liang Na going?" I asked as I turned back to Nongmin. "I thought she'd stick around."

Nongmin was already setting up some kind of array around the room. Lines of faint silver lit up around the walls and ceiling, sinking into the wood before vanishing entirely.

"Probably to make contact with our spies," he said casually.

I blinked. "Aren't you worried Tao Long might hear that? He's right outside."

Nongmin raised an eyebrow. "You think I'd start talking before the formations were in place? No one outside this room can hear a word."

Fair enough.

I looked around. It was a nice room. Velvet cushions, tea already poured on the table, glowing lanterns casting soft shadows. Warm, comfortable. A false sense of security if I ever saw one.

"So," I said, sitting down across from him, "what are we talking about? I don't suppose you just want to play cards or chat about childhood traumas. Just so you know, I am scared of roaches, and also paper cuts… Definitely hate 'em."

Nongmin didn't sit. He stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back, watching the street below.

"The strategy," he said.

I tilted my head. "Strategy for what?"

He turned slightly, just enough for his profile to catch the light.

"To ensure your fateful encounter occurs."

I frowned.

"…My what? Ah, okay. Walk me through it."

But he didn't answer right away. He just smiled slightly and looked back out the window.

I got a bad feeling about this.