Vessel of Worlds

Driving the Wind-Treader Dragon at full speed, Andy reached Island Five in a little over half a month.

Along the way he encountered two Foundation Establishment teams of three or four cultivators each. Though both were built around mid- and late-stage cultivators, when they saw Andy—early-stage, but flying that fast—neither made any move to waylay him.

How much treasure could an early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator carry? Especially one that fast and that hard to run down. The same effort spent finding a single rank-four beast would net more than an ordinary early-stage cultivator's entire fortune.

Once on Island Five, Andy could breathe easier. Order on the island was kept by the Outer Sea Merchant Alliance, with at least two Core Formation seniors stationed there year-round—Demon Gate cultivators of Foundation Establishment rank would certainly not be permitted to run wild here.

Island Five was vast, but cultivators lived only within the several hundred kilometers covered by the protective formation. Apart from the market street, there were only the residences the Alliance had built for rent. He made a circuit of the market without finding any sign of Xi Feng and the others—nor of the Demon Gate cultivators.

He lingered on Island Five a full two months, spending only modestly—two or three rank-three cores and some cheap beast materials—yet no word of Xi Feng's group ever came, and the Demon Gate cultivators never appeared either. So he took the teleportation formation back to the Immortal Island of Penglai.

The formation was still managed by the same two Core Formation seniors. One of them, an old man, did a double take at the sight of Andy and muttered: "The late-stage one doesn't come back—but the early-stage one does. How curious." A cultivator's memory was formidable: though scores of cultivators used the formation every month, the old man recognized Andy at a glance and remembered he had arrived with several mid-stage cultivators and one at late-stage.

Andy walked out of Hall Five atop Yuntai Mountain, stepped onto the Wind-Treader Dragon, and gazed out once more over the Immortal Island of Penglai from the summit. Its towering magnificence seized him as before, filling his chest with an unbidden surge of grand ambition—for one instant he even imagined becoming lord of the immortal island someday, standing atop Penglai Peak and looking down upon all its living souls. Of course, that fanciful notion—like his hope of one day becoming a Nascent Soul cultivator—was swiftly tossed aside.

...

Old Man He was an utterly ordinary Qi Condensation cultivator from a small island near Penglai. Owing to his mediocre spiritual root aptitude, a lifetime of bitter cultivation had carried him only to the fourth layer of Qi Condensation. He was over seventy now, his beard gone largely white, his hair mostly fallen out—though being a cultivator, his bones remained sturdy enough. For a man in his position, Foundation Establishment was out of the question; most cultivators who reached his stage of life chose some tranquil spot and passed their remaining years in ease.

But Old Man He had an only granddaughter he doted on beyond measure—and she possessed spiritual roots. To gather pills and other cultivation resources to advance her progress, the old man had no choice but to come to the Penglai market and keep toiling, earning a thin trickle of spirit stones by guiding cultivators new to the market.

Guides were plentiful, and he didn't land work every month, so he also took odd jobs now and then, helping small shops with menial chores for a few extra stones.

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On this particular day, having found no other work, he was leading his treasured granddaughter—seven or eight years old—around the market entrance, watching for any cultivator who might need a guide.

Whenever a cultivator descended from the sky into the market, he would sidle close and offer his services. Most refused him coldly; occasionally someone declined with courtesy; and some cultivators, before he could even approach and open his mouth, would flick their sleeves and send out a wave of spiritual pressure that staggered him backward several steps—at which he could only take the hint and withdraw.

Now yet another cultivator arrived in the market, this one wearing a black bamboo hat that hid his face. From the man's unfathomable spiritual fluctuations, Old Man He judged him a cultivator of Foundation Establishment rank or above beyond any doubt. He stepped forward and bowed. "Has Senior only just arrived at the Penglai market? Might this junior be of service?" The cultivation world reckoned seniority by cultivation; though he carried a great load of years, the other man stood a full realm above him, so he naturally styled himself the junior.

"You're a guide?" a hoarse male voice asked from beneath the black hat.

"This junior is He Da, a guide here. I know the Penglai market intimately—I can certainly save Senior a great deal of time!" Old Man He said, delighted that he hadn't been refused outright.

The cultivator in the black bamboo hat was Andy. He had donned it upon leaving the summit formation, as a precaution. It was a fine artifact he'd purchased in the West Star Island market—similar in function to the black gauze cloak he'd used before, concealing the face and blocking other cultivators' spiritual sense, but considerably stronger: not even a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator could see through it. Cultivators wearing such hats were a common enough sight, at every level of cultivation. It seemed that in any market, at any rank, plenty of cultivators preferred not to show their true faces.

Andy didn't head straight for the formation to West Star Island. He had business in this market—but it was so enormous that searching shop by shop on his own might squander months. With a guide, matters became far simpler.

He glanced at the old man and the sweet, well-behaved little girl behind him. "Very well. Do you know where in the market puppets are sold?"

"In answer to Senior: in the market's middle section there's a shop called the Clever Craft Pavilion that deals exclusively in puppets. There's another such shop in the western section, though smaller. This junior can lead you there—a day's guide fee is only three low-grade spirit stones," the old man answered fluently.

"If you do well, I'll make it five. Climb aboard." Andy gave the instruction in his hoarse voice and cast out the Wind-Treader Dragon for the two of them.

Overjoyed, the old man hurriedly pulled the little girl up onto the jade dragon.

Andy leapt lightly aboard as well and sent it slanting upward. Though he deliberately kept the speed down, the rushing wind was still too much for grandfather and granddaughter, so the old man raised a defensive barrier around them both.

Inside the barrier, the little girl clutched the old man's coat hem tightly, eyes squeezed shut, not daring to move. Only when the Wind-Treader Dragon leveled off did she open her eyes and steal a bold look around—at the dense forest of towers below, the ant-small crowds, the clouds drifting slowly past, and the colossal peaks rising in the distance. Fear forgotten, her eyes filled with wonder and fascination. She snuck a glance at Andy—just as he happened to turn his head—and ducked her chin in fright.

"Your descendant?" Andy asked the old man, keeping his voice low and rough.

"My only granddaughter—and the only kin I have left in this world with spiritual roots. Qianqian, greet the Senior!" the old man instructed.

"Qianqian greets Senior!" The little girl performed her courtesy with perfect obedience.

Andy nodded. "Her aptitude is considerably better than yours, isn't it? At her age, already second-layer Qi Condensation."

"Heh, Senior sees truly. This junior's aptitude is wretched—a lifetime for this scrap of cultivation, never even through the gate. But this granddaughter is my pride. She reached the second layer in a matter of months; her roots can't be bad. Only—these past two years I've not managed to befriend any Foundation Establishment seniors, so I've had no way to confirm the exact attribute of Qianqian's roots." The old man spoke with evident pride, though the last words carried regret.

"Oh? Let me have a look." Andy beckoned to the little girl.

The old man's face lit up. He quickly drew the girl before Andy and bowed. "We trouble Senior!"