0019. The Town And The Shop
As the carriage clattered down the cobblestone streets toward the western district, Nile found himself captivated by the towering buildings that loomed over the town. Among them stood a central tower, the Tower of Templars, unmistakable with its intricate carvings and glowing emblems. He recognized it instantly—it was one of the subsidiary branches of the Protectorate of Awakening and Circulation, responsible for cultivation training, overseeing the awakening ceremony for children turning 15, recruiting talent for the nation, and managing every level of schooling.
The Tower of Templars stood tall, always positioned in the heart of each town, mirroring its much larger counterpart in the Protectorate City on the Central Island.
Nile's eyes wandered to the other prominent structures in the town, each belonging to one of the Five Protectorates, their designs grand yet distinctly utilitarian.
The Protectorate of Martial Defense: A fortress-like building responsible for security and military matters. Soldiers in dark uniforms patrolled its premises, carrying weapons that gleamed under the sun.
The Protectorate of Adventurers and Pioneers: A bustling hub where free cultivators and adventurers registered for missions, sold their spoils, or sought permits for expeditions into untamed lands. Its banner fluttered with the insignia of crossed swords and a compass.
The Protectorate of Records and Bureaucracy: A sprawling building with endless lines of people at its gates, submitting forms, verifying documents, and navigating the labyrinth of bureaucracy that governed data and information management.
The Protectorate of Trade and Commerce: A towering structure near the merchant districts, overseeing guilds like the Alchemists' Association, blacksmiths, and other trades. Merchants and traders bustled about its entrance, striking deals and arguing over permits.
Finally, as the carriage veered westward, Nile saw the subsidiary branch of the Protectorate of Cultivation and Artisans, nestled near the sprawling Martial Market. This Protectorate controlled the cultivation resources, regulated artisan guilds, and managed the trade of weapons, talismans, and cultivation materials.
While these buildings dominated the townscape, Nile reminded himself that their true headquarters resided in the Five Protectorate Cities on the Central Island, far grander and more powerful than their subsidiary branches in the towns.
"Mother," Nile asked, leaning slightly out of the carriage, "why are the Protectorates' headquarters on the Central Island?"
Veena, who had been watching the town pass by, replied with a calm smile, "The Central Island is the core of our nation. It's where all power converges—governance, defense, trade, and cultivation. Each Protectorate City is a fortress in itself, representing the might of the Protectorates. These branches in the towns exist to ensure that even the farthest villages feel their influence."
Nile nodded thoughtfully, his awe of the nation's scale deepening. As the carriage rolled toward the western district, his anticipation grew. They were heading to Shakti's shop in the Martial Market, but his mind was already racing with thoughts of the opportunities—and challenges—that awaited him in this vast and structured world.
The carriage trundled along the lively streets of the Cultivation Market, its wheels kicking up soft dust. Nile glanced out, scanning the rows of shops and stalls that lined the way. His brow furrowed as he took in the goods on display—herbs, talismans, weapons, and other items that seemed far too mundane for a market reputed to cater to cultivators.
"Uncle," Nile said, turning to James, "this is the Cultivation Market, right? But everything here seems... ordinary. I expected something more extraordinary."
James chuckled, his eyes gleaming with the wisdom of years. "Ah, Nile, no amount of information packets will ever teach you everything about the world. Some things you must explore and experience for yourself."
Nile tilted his head in curiosity as James continued, gesturing at the shops. "The Cultivation Market isn't a place for the uninitiated. What you see here is just the surface—a front business for the common folk. Behind these doors lies the true essence of the market. If a shopkeeper deems you worthy, or if your pockets are heavy enough, they'll invite you into their inner shop to view the real treasures."
Nile's gaze darted back to the shops, his imagination running wild. What secrets lay hidden behind those unassuming facades?
"Remember," James added, "true understanding of the world comes not from information but from experience. The more you see, the more you'll understand."
The words settled in Nile's mind as the carriage rolled forward, leaving the vibrant market behind and turning into Street 9.
The group finally arrived at Shop 3, a modest yet sturdy three-story building nestled between similar structures. The ground floor bore a small shopfront, its wooden sign swinging slightly in the breeze. The upper floors were clearly residential, with their modest windows adorned by weathered shutters.
As the carriage came to a halt, Nile couldn't help but notice that the shop's door was ajar, and the faint murmur of business activity wafted out. His heart raced.
"Could Frost have returned?" Nile thought, excitement bubbling within him.
Without waiting for the others, he leaped from the carriage and rushed toward the shop. Veena and Jessica exchanged glances and followed closely, sensing his eagerness.
Meanwhile, James lingered outside, standing guard by the carriage. His sharp eyes scanned the street, ensuring no one approached. His posture was calm, but his hand rested on the hilt of his sword—a silent promise of protection.
As Nile stepped through the door, the sight of the shop's interior left him momentarily stunned.
The moment Nile stepped into the shop, the tension was palpable. The modest-looking shop belied the immense value it held. Shelves were lined with faintly glowing mana stones, their light pulsing softly, while the centerpiece of the room was a secure, transparent casing holding a unique, otherworldly glow—a slime king core.
The plump old man's greedy eyes fixated on the core as if it were the answer to all his desires. This core alone could make him rich beyond measure, he thought. The only one of its kind on the entire town island! Frost was a fool to leave such a treasure behind. With this, I can control the mana recharge trade.
The Mana Recharge Store was unlike any other business in the region. It operated on two highly lucrative services:
1. Mana Stone Exchange: Customers could exchange their drained mana stones (at least 90% empty) for recharged ones, with a conversion rate of 5 empty stones for 1 fully recharged stone.
2. Mana Stone Recharge Service: Customers could deposit their drained mana stones and have them recharged over time. For every 10 mana stones recharged, the shopkeeper kept 1 mana stone as payment, with the process taking twenty days.
This dual model made the shop indispensable for cultivators, adventurers, and merchants alike, as mana stones were the lifeblood of any cultivation society.
The old man's mind raced with calculations. If I had control over this place, I could double the rates. What choice would these peasants have? They'd have to pay, or they'd be left with useless stones! And with the slime king core in my possession, I wouldn't even need to rely on Frost's silly 'fair trade' rules.
He shifted his gaze to the two young workers—a boy and a girl—standing defiantly before him. The girl, barely sixteen, trembled as she clutched her brother's arm. The boy, though equally young, had a fiery determination in his eyes as he shielded his sister.
The old man sneered. "You'll hand over the core," he hissed, "or your sister won't live to see another sunrise. Do you even know who you're dealing with? Frost's imprint has already been erased from the Market Pillar! He's dead, boy. That means this shop is up for grabs, and I intend to claim it!"
The girl let out a whimper, her grip tightening on her brother's arm.