Beyond the Timescape

Chapter 62: The Old Lecher

Xu Qing left the apothecary and headed toward Port Seventy-Nine.

While the Homicide Department required daily roll calls and occasional joint patrols, his schedule was largely self-directed when not on active assignment. He intended to return to his berth and resume his cultivation.

Out of habit, he hugged the perimeter of the streets, blending into the shadows as he walked.

The recent squall had stranded countless cargo freighters and outbound Sect vessels at sea. Now that the storm had broken, a massive influx of traffic was pouring into the harbor despite the lingering drizzle.

As Xu Qing navigated the bustling port, he ran a financial audit of his cultivation.

The raw materials for one White Pill cost roughly three spirit coins. If I can maintain a steady supply chain, I can stockpile a significant profit over time. He touched the pouch of Spirit Stones he had just earned from flipping the pills.

But cultivation burns through capital too quickly. To maintain my current growth rate, I need to consume one pill every single day. Then there are the docking fees for the berth. And the upgrades for the Dharma Boat are astronomically expensive. Xu Qing let out a silent sigh. He felt a rare pang of regret; his lethal efficiency in combat meant he had killed his previous targets too decisively, destroying their identity tokens and forfeiting their Contribution Points.

He needed to secure high-value bounties or risk another scavenging run into the forbidden zone. Without an influx of capital, his Dharma Boat would stagnate.

The cost of living in the main city was steep, but the true extortion lay in cultivation resources. Mortals could scrape by, but disciples were constantly starved for the materials they needed to advance.

For a disciple of the Seven Blood Eyes, the daily thirty-spirit-coin residency tax was a triviality. The true catalyst for the endless, covert bloodbaths among the gray robes was the desperate hunger for resources.

There were only two paths to power: grind out official missions, or murder your peers and liquidate their assets.

The only exception to this brutal economy were the Core Disciples. They held the primary-color tokens of their respective peaks—such as the purple token of the Seventh Peak—and were granted the privilege of residing on the mountain itself. They wore light-colored robes, like the arrogant youth in pale purple or the girl in light orange he had seen previously.

These elites were the direct descendants of the Sect’s upper management. They received a massive fifty percent discount on all resources. The only caveat was that Sect regulations strictly forbade them from flipping discounted goods for a profit on the black market; doing so resulted in immediate excommunication.

The wealth gap between the mountain elites and the slum-dwelling gray robes was astronomical, but Xu Qing accepted it as a universal truth.

Above the Core Disciples were the Foundation Establishment Masters. They wore the deep, pure colors of their peaks and were the only ones authorized to receive dividends from the Sect’s macro-profits.

I need to generate revenue, fast… His train of thought was derailed by a sudden commotion near the docks.

Xu Qing looked up. A massive crowd of disciples was forming along the shoreline, buzzing with anticipation. Gray robes were pouring out of the docked Dharma Boats, and hundreds more were sprinting toward the harbor from the surrounding streets.

Their eyes were fixed on the horizon, burning with greed and reverence.

Curious, Xu Qing tracked their gaze.

Slowly emerging from the mist was a leviathan.

The vessel was nearly six hundred feet long, plated in pure, dazzling gold that caught the dying light of the sun. At the bow rested a colossal statue of a human-faced spider. A massive, glittering gemstone was socketed into the center of the spider’s forehead, radiating obnoxious wealth.

It looked like an apex predator slicing through the waves.

Atop the gilded deck sat a sprawling, multi-tiered pavilion constructed from carved jade and rare timber. Heavily armed guards patrolled the balconies.

A deep, resonant hum vibrated through the air as the ship approached.

“The Third Highness!”

“The Third Highness has returned!”

The crowd erupted.

Third Highness? Xu Qing watched the floating palace draw near.

A heavy, metallic scent washed over the docks, accompanied by a crushing, suffocating Pressure that radiated from the hull.

Xu Qing’s pupils shrank. The ambient threat level of the ship felt identical to the eldritch horrors he had encountered deep within the forbidden zone.

As the vessel closed the distance, the source of that dread became visible. Protruding from the golden hull were rows of ten-foot-long, razor-sharp iron spikes. Each spike was etched with complex, glowing runes that screamed of apocalyptic lethality.

It was, without a doubt, the most terrifying weapon of war Xu Qing had seen since arriving at the Seven Blood Eyes. It made him painfully aware of his own insignificance, but it also crystallized his understanding of what a Seventh Peak Dharma Boat was truly capable of.

The crowd’s cheering reached a fever pitch as the pavilion doors slid open.

A tall, emaciated young man stepped onto the deck. He wore a Daoist robe of pure, deep purple.

Not light purple. Deep purple.

The color designated him as a Foundation Establishment Master. Combined with the absolute subservience of the crowd, it was clear this youth held a rank far above a standard Elder.

Yet, the Third Highness looked like a walking corpse. His skin was sallow, heavy black bags bruised his eyes, and his gaunt frame looked utterly hollowed out by excessive debauchery. He wore a stark white hat embroidered with a massive, oppressive character: Forbidden.

The oversized, deep purple robe billowed wildly in the sea breeze, looking as if it might carry his frail body away.

He seemed to lack the physical strength to stand on his own. As he basked in the adulation, he leaned heavily on two stunning women draped in silken cloaks. One of them held a crystal vial of glowing, nutrient-dense liquid, carefully spoon-feeding it to him.

The women were undeniably gorgeous, but their emerald eyes held a predatory, hypnotic allure. The wind whipped their cloaks aside, revealing impossibly exaggerated hourglass figures. They possessed an aggressive, primal magnetism that commanded attention.

However, their fiery curves and flawless skin were a distraction, designed to draw the eye away from the distinct, pulsing gill slits on their cheeks.

They giggled shyly, letting the emaciated youth grope them in front of the massive crowd.

“Greetings, Third Highness!” the shoreline roared in unison.

Xu Qing analyzed the youth. It was bizarre to see a Foundation Establishment powerhouse who looked like he would snap in half without a cane.

He shifted his gaze to the two women. His eyes narrowed. Threat detected. They were dangerous.

Scanning past them, he noted a retinue of black-robed figures standing in the shadows of the pavilion. Like the women, they all possessed emerald eyes and gill slits, and their spiritual fluctuations were incredibly dense.

Among them stood a youth roughly Xu Qing’s age. He wore opulent clothing and surveyed the cheering crowd with a look of cold, aristocratic disdain.

It was Xu Qing’s second encounter with a non-human species. However, seeing the casual acceptance of the crowd, he deduced that alien races were a common sight in the Sect’s upper echelons.

He committed the data to memory and turned to leave. He had no interest in the spectacle.

But as the ship initiated docking procedures, the Third Highness laughed, his voice amplified across the harbor.

“We ran into a nasty squall out there, but the harvest was bountiful! Since you all came out to greet me, everyone gets a cut!”

Instantly, the attendants on the deck sprang into action. They hurled handfuls of palm-sized objects into the air, raining them down upon the crowd.

A projectile shot toward Xu Qing. He snatched it out of the air.

It was a thick, iridescent scale. It felt damp and freezing to the touch. Xu Qing squeezed it, applying pressure that would have shattered solid rock.

The scale didn’t even bend.

His eyes sharpened. The material was highly advanced. Now he understood why the harbor was packed; the Third Highness threw away premium crafting materials like loose change.

If I could exploit this every day, I wouldn’t have to worry about capital. Xu Qing pocketed the scale and offered a customary bow of thanks toward the ship.

The ship locked into its berth. The Third Highness waved lazily to the crowd before landing a heavy, echoing slap on the backside of one of the non-human women.

She let out a coquettish squeal, and the emaciated Highness chuckled lewdly.

The gray-robed disciples immediately cast their eyes to the ground. Very few had the spine to openly stare at the Third Highness’s personal property.

Xu Qing, observing from the periphery, noticed the deep sneer of disgust that crossed the face of the non-human youth standing behind the women.

Oblivious, the Third Highness continued to leer at his companions. “Wait for me here, my little fairies. Don’t wander off, or my Master will chew me out again. Assuming the old man is even back. I’ll go check. If the coast is clear, I’ll come back tonight to play.”

The women batted their eyelashes and whispered sweet flatteries. The Third Highness coughed, took another sip from the crystal vial, and turned to his guards.

“Unload the cargo. And watch your step! Don’t scratch the paint!”

The guards began hauling massive, hermetically sealed crates from the hold.

“Record the entire offloading process on a jade slip,” the Third Highness ordered loudly. “These are for the Eldest Senior Brother. He’s in Secluded Cultivation right now, but he’s a petty bastard. I want proof these crates were pristine when they left my ship so he can’t extort me for damages later.”

Laughing, the Third Highness offered a final, perfunctory salute to the crowd before marching down the gangplank, leading his retinue toward the Seventh Peak.

The moment he was out of sight, the atmosphere on the docks instantly shattered.

The disciples scattered, rapidly backing away from one another. A suffocating tension descended. Those who had caught a scale were suddenly hyper-aware of the greedy, predatory stares tracking their movements.

Getting the loot was easy. Keeping it was the hard part.

As the crowd fragmented, several disciples were immediately boxed in by predators. A few gazes lingered on Xu Qing, calculating the odds. However, the recent, bloody execution of Qing Yunzi was still fresh in the local rumor mill. Deciding the risk wasn’t worth the reward, the predators backed off.

Xu Qing watched the potential threats dissolve, then turned and walked swiftly back to his berth.

Once secure, he summoned his Dharma Boat.

He stared at the small, rusted skiff. The image of the Third Highness’s golden, spike-covered leviathan burned in his mind.

The disparity in sheer firepower was staggering.

Xu Qing didn’t board the skiff. He collapsed it back into the bottle and marched straight into the commercial district, heading for a refinement shop operated by the Sixth Peak.

It was time for an upgrade.

He slapped the iridescent scale, the beast bone gifted by Zhang San, and a heavy pouch of Spirit Stones onto the counter.

The Sixth Peak disciple inspected the materials, nodded, and informed Xu Qing the process would take an Incense stick of time.

While he waited, Xu Qing browsed the shop’s inventory. The shelves were stocked with biological components harvested from sea beasts, and the price tags were nauseating.

He paused at a cured lizard hide.

“One hundred and fifty Spirit Stones,” the clerk droned, noticing his interest.

A hundred and fifty?! Xu Qing kept his face blank, but the markup was staggering.

“It’s a complete molt from a fifth-level Qi Condensation sea lizard,” the clerk added defensively, side-eyeing Xu Qing’s cheap robes. “Flawless structural integrity. You won’t find better armor plating for a basic skiff.”

Xu Qing silently moved down the aisle. His eyes locked onto a massive, human-sized heart suspended in a tank of glowing fluid. It was still beating.

“Dragon-Whisker Beast heart,” the clerk supplied. “It won’t power a Foundation Establishment vessel, but it’ll redline a boat-class rig.”

Xu Qing didn’t even ask the price. He knew it would bankrupt him ten times over.

The biological upgrades were pure extortion. He felt the weight of his own poverty pressing down on him.

A moment later, the shopkeeper returned, handing Xu Qing the containment bottle.

The Dharma Boat inside had transformed. It was slightly larger, and its hull was now armored with intricate, overlapping scale totems.

Xu Qing injected a thread of spiritual energy. The feedback was immediate; the hull’s structural defense had exponentially increased. Satisfied, he thanked the clerk and headed back to the water.

He needed a test drive.

Standing on his berth, he tossed the bottle into the harbor.

Light flashed, and a newly armored, black-canopied boat materialized on the water. It was now roughly eighty feet long and over ten feet wide.

The rusted, pathetic aura of the skiff was gone. It now radiated a cold, predatory malice. The crocodile-head prow looked remarkably lifelike, and the beast bone inlaid into the jaw generated a continuous, swirling vortex of wind magic.

The speed multiplier would be massive.

A cold light ignited in Xu Qing’s eyes.

If I had an unlimited supply of Spirit Stones and materials… what could I turn this thing into?

“I need to make more money,” he muttered.