Vessel of Worlds

Before long, a streak of red escape-light arrived at speed and halted a hundred-odd zhang from Andy. A middle-aged man in brocade robes, the crown of his head shining bald, appeared before him.

The man had slanted eyes and a crooked nose, and his whole manner was furtive and mean—yet his cultivation stood at the very peak of early-stage Core Formation, a cut above a newly formed cultivator like Andy.

Andy's brow creased slightly. The trace of greed in the look the man cast over him sat poorly, and his first impression curdled at once. He confirmed again, too, that he had never met this man in his life.

Andy smiled faintly and saluted. "You would be Elder Ma of the Sea Confluence Gate. What matter would you discuss with me? You and I have never so much as crossed paths."

The middle-aged man's gaze swept over Andy once before he returned the salute. "The very same. Forgive the wait. Ma has a presumptuous request: if the fellow cultivator belongs to no sect, Ma sincerely invites you to join our Sea Confluence Gate—as an elder of the sect."

Andy's brow tightened, and he regarded the man coldly. That little speech had plainly been improvised on the spot. Were the invitation sincere, why not send transmission talismans to his dwelling in advance? Why post a girl to waylay him here? During his seclusion he had received transmission talismans from any number of sects and powers—congratulations on his core, invitations appended—and among them there had been nothing whatsoever from any Elder Ma of the Sea Confluence Gate.

The man's original purpose had certainly not been recruitment. As for why he had changed course mid-stream—a moment's thought carried Andy most of the way to the answer.

All those windfalls falling at his feet before his seclusion, and the watchers posted around his dwelling—the arrangements, no doubt, of this Ma surnamed cultivator. Why the man had fixed on him in particular, Andy could not yet say with certainty.

And why the sudden invitation instead? Most likely because he had now formed his core—their cultivations nearly level—and because he carried a dharma treasure besides.

With Andy's wit, the scattered events of several decades threaded themselves together in moments, and he arrived at the rough truth of it.

He asked nothing further, saying only, flatly: "It is truly not convenient for me to join your gate. My thanks for the fellow cultivator's kindness."

The bald man chuckled, his tone turning glib. "No need to hurry, friend! Join our gate, and the benefits will come in armfuls. To say nothing of the rest—suppose I present this little Shuiyi here to you as a concubine, hm?" As he spoke, he gestured at the white-robed girl standing to one side with lowered head.

At those words the girl's face drained, then flushed scarlet, fury flashing in her eyes—but she dared not say a word.

Andy smiled slightly and answered as flatly as before: "My thanks for the fellow cultivator's generous thought—I accept the spirit of it. But my circumstances truly do not permit; I beg your understanding. And I have pressing business—forgive me for not keeping you company longer." With a salute, his form stirred and he streaked away toward the market as a bolt of blue light.

The girl watched the young man's escape-light dwindle, and quietly let out a long breath. For that, her impression of this young-looking senior was rather good indeed.

The bald man's face had gone dark as thunder. "Newly formed—and already a trace of treasure aura leaks from him," he muttered. "He carries a dharma treasure. That puts his strength on a level with mine—and my designs on his fortune end here. Decades of careful management... and it comes to nothing after all."

To an early-stage Core Formation cultivator, tens of thousands of spirit stones was an enormous fortune—very nearly the entire estate of a newly formed cultivator. So he had never let Andy go—not even upon learning the man had succeeded at Core Formation. A newly formed cultivator, he had reasoned, quite possibly had no dharma treasure yet, and only middling strength; lure him off Penglai, and the chance to kill and take remained excellent.

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But events had run against his wishes. The wealthy late-stage cultivator had not only formed his core—he now breathed that faint treasure aura, proof of a dharma treasure already tempered and bound.

For Core Formation cultivators, strength rested on two pillars: one's own cultivation, and the power of one's treasure. Treasures varied enormously, and with them the whole hierarchy of Core Formation strength. With a mighty treasure in hand, cultivators had outfought their own rank—even slain above it—times beyond counting.

Without any certainty of winning, the bald cultivator dared harbor his designs no further, and could only paper the affair over with the most threadbare of excuses.

Decades of scheming, ending in nothing—his mood was foul. He said coldly to the girl: "Tell your fellow disciples: the matter is closed. No more watching this place. Useless, the lot of you!" And he departed the way he had come, a streak of red light.

The girl was overjoyed—free at last of the heart-stopping duty of spying on a Core Formation senior! As for the rewards Elder Ma had once promised her and her fellow disciples—since he no longer mentioned them, she dared not ask. His reputation in the sect had always been poor; she had never truly hoped to see any benefit. To slip free of the business unscathed was fortune enough.

She let out a long breath, mounted a ribbon of white silk, and drifted gracefully away.

Andy, a bolt of blue light, closed swiftly on the Penglai market. His Primal Unity Technique held certain unique virtues—fusing and containing all five elements as it did, he could alter the color of his escape-light at will, and so keep anyone from recognizing the technique's true purple.

A Core Formation cultivator's escape-light flew tremendously fast, with no need of any flying artifact. Even holding back, Andy now outpaced his old Wind-Treader Dragon by a wide margin.

Soon he arrived in the market.

He knew the vast bazaar intimately by now; within a few steps he turned into a three-storied building several hundred zhang broad.

It was a text shop. Rank upon rank of enormous bookcases—seven or eight zhang tall, dozens long—filled more than half the great hall.

The shop's keeper, a middle-aged scholar of Foundation Establishment rank, sat behind the counter cradling a worn old book of beast hide, reading with swaying head and evident relish. Suddenly he felt a powerful wave of spiritual energy from the door. He looked up: a refined, remarkably young-looking man in purple robes was stepping inside—and the aura around him announced a Core Formation senior.

The scholar hastily tucked the old book into his robes and hurried forward with a deep bow. "Senior's presence honors our humble shop beyond measure! Forgive this junior for failing to greet you at the door!"

The shop's attendants and customers, likewise sensing the arrival of an eminence, froze where they stood.

Andy had visited this shop several times in his Foundation Establishment days—always hatted, his face hidden—so the keeper did not know him. In those days a mere Qi Condensation attendant had served him; the keeper himself had never been troubled.

Andy waved a hand lightly. "No ceremony. I hear your stock of texts is exceptionally complete. Is it true?"

The scholar smiled with easy confidence. "In answer to Senior: our collection numbers no fewer than a hundred thousand texts—complete indeed. Among the dozens of text shops in the Penglai market, in scale and breadth of holdings, ours stands first!"

"Oh? Then let me see whether anything useful can be found." Andy stroked his chin, his not-quite-smile leaving the scholar unable to tell whether he believed a word of it.

"Yes! Senior, please follow me to the third floor," the scholar said respectfully. "The two floors below would offer Senior nothing at all."

Andy nodded and followed him up. The third floor held far fewer volumes—a single great bookcase scattered with several thousand jade slips of every color, a film of restriction-light shimmering across its shelves.

One glance told Andy that to a cultivator of early Core Formation, the ward was child's play—breakable with a flick of the hand.

Without waiting for the scholar's introductions, he sheathed his hand in a film of light, passed it through the restriction with ease, drew out a slip, skimmed its contents at speed, returned it, and took the next.

The scholar stood respectfully aside, silent.

By the end of half a day Andy had swept the whole collection in rough passes and picked out a dozen-plus slips, handing them to the scholar to copy.

Having paid a sum of stones that was, to him, beneath noticing, Andy left the shop.

He patronized several more establishments, received everywhere with the most elaborate courtesy.

Then he left the market for the Outer Star Sea teleportation formations atop Yuntai Mountain—and passed through to Island Five.