[Mending Heaven Station · The Lonely Isle on the Ink Sea]
Thud! Thud!
Two battered figures tumbled out of the void, crashing in front of Elder Mo's desk.
Yin Wuwang looked like he'd been dragged through a warzone—which, technically, he had. His hair stood up in a singed explosion, smoke still curling from the ends. He coughed out a mouthful of black soot.
Xie Qingyan wasn't much better. His robes were in tatters, his face deathly pale, his expression that of a man who had seen too much and wished to unsee all of it.
Elder Mo set down his teacup with deliberate calm. Then he produced an abacus.
Clack!
"One S-Class mecha. Fifteen hundred points."
The two men stared blankly at the golden beads being flicked back and forth. Mecha? Points? What were those?
Clack clack!
"Imperial defense line collapsed. Three thousand five hundred points."
Clack clack clack!
"World core damaged. Five thousand points."
Elder Mo raised his hooded eyes, revealing a benevolent smile. "Congratulations, you two. Ten minutes out the door, and you already owe me ten thousand points."
"Ten thousand?!" Yin Wuwang shot to his feet. "Old man, you're dreaming! When did this sovereign ever owe you anything!"
Any sentence with "owe" in it meant bad news. He was the supreme Demon Sovereign! Other people owed him!
Elder Mo remained unperturbed. One finger traced a lazy arc through the air.
A flash of golden light.
Yin Wuwang felt a burning sensation on his forehead. He looked down at his hand—
A golden character for "DEBT" had been branded onto the back of his palm.
Xie Qingyan had one too.
Yin Wuwang's eyes turned red with fury. "You—! When did you do this?!"
"When you agreed to work here."
Elder Mo blew gently on his tea, looking supremely pleased with himself.
"I told you—these are the rules here. Don't like it? Fine. Don't pay."
He took a leisurely sip, glanced at them over the rim of his cup, then set it down with a sharp clunk.
"BUT! Your original world is currently collapsing. That ABO world you just visited? Nearly exploded because of you. Don't want to work for me? That's your choice. You can wait around and turn to dust together with everything else."
Xie Qingyan's expression could have frozen steel. "You dare threaten me?"
Elder Mo smiled. "No. This is business."
The two exchanged glances. In each other's eyes, they saw the same mixture of rage and helplessness.
There was no other choice.
"How do we repay it?" Xie Qingyan asked.
"Simple."
Elder Mo waved his hand. A scroll materialized in the air before them.
"Travel to other worlds. Complete missions. Earn points. Finish nine worlds' worth of missions, and you'll have enough to repair the ABO Interstellar world you wrecked—plus save your own dying world."
Yin Wuwang frowned, deeply reluctant. "Nine? How long will that take?"
"Well, that depends on your abilities. Fast workers might finish in a few months. Slow ones..." Elder Mo paused, counting on his fingers. "I've had people working here for three hundred years who still haven't paid off their debt."
Yin Wuwang's mouth twitched. Three hundred years? Was this old fossil trying to scare him?
Elder Mo's tone shifted, a calculating gleam entering his eyes. "Of course, with premium artifacts, everything becomes much easier." He pointed to a line of glittering gold text on the scroll. "I mentioned this before—the premium artifact spirit 'Tianji.' Highest grade under heaven. With it, world knowledge downloads directly into your mind. Language barriers? Instant immersive translation. Incoming danger? Early warning alerts. Nothing will be beyond your grasp."
Xie Qingyan listened with a blank expression, completely unmoved. Knowledge downloading? Was that some kind of technique? It sounded like a Buddhist cultivation method.
Elder Mo shot a meaningful glance at Yin Wuwang. "Embarrassing incidents like mistaking heat cycles for poison, or treating mechas like cultivation puppets? They'll never happen again."
Xie Qingyan's brow furrowed into a tight knot upon learning that his earlier condition had been a "heat cycle" rather than poisoning.
Yin Wuwang's face darkened. So that was why his blood hadn't worked—it wasn't an aphrodisiac at all! And that iron lump really wasn't a puppet? He recalled the scene of himself performing a blood-bonding ritual on the mecha and blowing it up. His expression grew even more murderous.
"How many spirit stones?" he asked warily.
"Not expensive at all." Elder Mo smiled like an old fox. "Just ten million high-grade spirit stones."
"TEN MILLION?!"
Yin Wuwang nearly choked on air.
That was everything he had on him! Sure, his treasury back in the Demon Palace held several times that amount—but what good was that? According to this old man, his world was sealed off. Until he completed these missions, he couldn't go back. These ten million stones were literally all he could access.
"Old man! Why don't you just rob me outright?!"
"Rob you?" Elder Mo raised an eyebrow. "That mecha you just blew up? Manufacturing cost: fifteen million low-grade spirit stones. My artifact spirit is a bargain in comparison. And you think it's expensive?"
Yin Wuwang choked.
That hunk of scrap metal was worth fifteen million spirit stones?!
Xie Qingyan turned to look at him. "Are you going to buy it?"
Yin Wuwang clenched his fists so hard his knuckles went white.
Ten million high-grade spirit stones.
That number echoed in his mind like a death knell.
Three thousand years ago, he had been a hunted orphan—a half-blood demon creature that neither the righteous sects nor the demonic clans would accept. He had survived on scraps stolen from garbage heaps, slept in caves that flooded when it rained, and learned to run before he learned to walk.
He remembered the taste of hunger—that gnawing emptiness that made you willing to do anything, become anything, just to survive another day.
He remembered the cold—huddling in snowdrifts, watching his fingers turn blue, wondering if he would wake up the next morning.
He remembered being trampled underfoot by cultivators who thought killing a "mongrel demon" was good sport. The laughter. The casual cruelty. The absolute certainty in their eyes that his life was worth less than nothing.
He had sworn an oath: never again.
Never again would he be powerless. Never again would he be poor. Never again would he have to beg for scraps from those who saw him as less than human.
Every spirit stone he had saved over these three thousand years represented his security in a world where the strong devoured the weak. His insurance against the universe's indifference. His proof that he had become someone, despite everything.
And yes—he had secretly calculated. If someday, by some miracle, he could stand beside Fuguang as an equal... as a partner... he would ensure Fuguang never wanted for anything. Never experienced a moment of hardship. Never had to worry about something as base as money.
That had been the plan, anyway.
But now...
"What's the first world?" he asked suddenly.
Elder Mo blinked. "Ancient court intrigue."
Yin Wuwang's eyes lit up.
Ancient? Court intrigue? He had lived for three thousand years! What dynasty hadn't he witnessed? What power struggle hadn't he experienced?
"Not buying."
He lifted his chin, arrogance snapping back into place like armor.
"A mere ancient world? This sovereign could handle it with his eyes closed. Spend ten million on some broken artifact spirit? Do you take this sovereign for a fool?"
Xie Qingyan frowned. "Yin Wuwang, are you certain? That Little Deer Assistant earlier..."
"That was ABO! Interstellar!" Yin Wuwang declared with absolute confidence. "Heat cycles, mechas—I'd never seen any of that before. Of course I made mistakes. But ancient courts?" He waved dismissively. "Relax, Fuguang. With the kind of schemes mortals can cook up, you think they can outwit this sovereign? With me here, you'll walk through that world sideways!"
Elder Mo's mouth twitched. "Fine then."
He waved his hand. Two faint lights shot into their foreheads.
"Bzzt... esteemed... bzzt bzzt... welcome to... bzzt..."
A child's voice echoed in Yin Wuwang's mind—fragmented, breaking up, like a broken... like a broken something. He didn't even know how to describe this piece of junk!
"...bzzt bzzt bzzt... signal unstable... bzzt..."
Then silence.
Yin Wuwang's eye twitched. The same thing was happening to Xie Qingyan.
"What kind of trash artifact is this?"
"The free version." Elder Mo looked completely matter-of-fact. "Little Deer Assistant—economical and practical. Just occasionally loses connection, occasionally gives wrong information, occasionally..."
"Occasionally what?"
"Occasionally gets you killed." Elder Mo beamed at Yin Wuwang's bulging eyes and Xie Qingyan's icy stare. He waved a hand. "Just kidding."
Yin Wuwang had a strong feeling he wasn't kidding at all.
Elder Mo tossed two red threads toward them.
The threads wound around their wrists of their own accord and sank into their skin, vanishing from sight.
"These are Kindred Bonds. Once bound, you'll be able to sense each other's location no matter how far apart you are."
Yin Wuwang's ears flushed faintly pink. He snuck a glance at Xie Qingyan.
Kindred Bonds?
He knew what those were! Dual cultivation partners often used them to—
Wait. What was this old man implying?!
Xie Qingyan's expression remained unchanged. He merely frowned. "Why do we need such a thing?"
"Last time I sent out a pair, they split up to cover more ground. One went east, one went west. The eastern one got captured and locked in a dungeon. The other spent three days and nights searching, couldn't find him, and nearly tore that entire world apart." Elder Mo clicked his tongue. "So you see, this is for your own good. With these bonds, you can always find each other."
Xie Qingyan felt warmth spread across his wrist.
Strange—he could vaguely sense Yin Wuwang's location now. Three feet to his left.
Not only that, he could faintly perceive the other man's emotions. Relief. Smugness. And a trace of... restlessness?
Why is he restless?
Yin Wuwang felt it too. He could clearly sense Xie Qingyan's position, and even catch fragments of his emotional state—calm, resigned, with a hint of confusion.
What is Fuguang confused about? Did he notice that I was thinking about—
No! I've always been pure of heart and free of desire!
"Alright." Elder Mo clapped his hands. "Everything that needs to be said has been said. Everything that needs to be... ahem... given has been given. Off you go."
"Wait." Xie Qingyan spoke up. "What are our identities in that world?"
"Oh, almost forgot." Elder Mo adopted the expression of a forgetful old man. "Xie Qingyan, you're the Regent—first-rank official, controls the entire court."
Xie Qingyan nodded slightly. Regent. A position with real power. Court minister. Familiar enough territory.
"And him?"
Elder Mo pointed at Yin Wuwang. "Duke of the Realm. The Empress Dowager's younger brother. Commands the imperial army."
Yin Wuwang raised an eyebrow. First-rank military commander, controls the army—that suited his status.
"However..." Elder Mo's tone shifted, his smile turning meaningful. "In that world, you two are mortal enemies."
Xie Qingyan frowned. "Mortal enemies?"
"That's right. The power minister and the imperial in-law—fire and water, utterly incompatible." Elder Mo clicked his tongue. "The kind who fight to the death every single day."
The two exchanged glances.
Yin Wuwang's heart churned with conflicting emotions.
On one hand—getting to openly interact with Fuguang day after day? The thought was... rather exciting.
On the other hand—oppose Fuguang? Even if it was just acting, he didn't like it one bit!
Elder Mo watched his conflicted expression, smile deepening. "What's wrong, Lord Duke? Any objections?"
"None!" Yin Wuwang ground out through clenched teeth.
"Excellent." Elder Mo swept his hand through the air. The island beneath their feet split open. "Go forth, my wage slaves. Remember to perform well. Try not to blow up another world."
"Wait! This sovereign still has questions—"
"You'll figure it out when you get there!"
BOOM—!
They plunged into the space-time currents once again.
Yin Wuwang's furious roar echoed through the void:
"YOU CRUSTY OLD BASTARD, JUST YOU WAIT—!"
[Mending Heaven Station · Elder Mo's Perspective]
As the two figures vanished, Elder Mo's smile faded.
He turned to gaze at the withered Wordhart Tree behind him.
Lines of text floated across its bark—the original manuscript of "The Path to Nine Heavens." But large sections had degraded into corrupted code, glitching and flickering. On its branches hung a single small lantern. The orange glow within wavered uncertainly, like a candle flame about to be snuffed out at any moment.
Elder Mo sighed.
He lifted his gaze toward a whirlpool churning in the depths of the Ink Sea. There, a "PAUSED" rune blinked on and off.
"That boy refused to spend money on a proper artifact spirit... Well, whatever. An ancient court world—they should be familiar enough with that setting. It's just..."
He shook his head, a bitter smile crossing his weathered features.
"They don't know yet how deadly that world's plot really is. I hope that proud little demon lord doesn't end up regretting his choice."
[End of Prologue]