59: boat ticket

The seventh day after leaving Qinghe Market.

The wind and snow finally stopped, but the world remained a desolate, deathly white.

On a winding path through the towering mountains, Zhou Wannian was trudging along, his steps uneven as he sank into the deep snow.

His current appearance was more like a beggar than an actual beggar. The tattered padded jacket he had originally used as a disguise was now truly stiff and matted, emitting a stale, sour smell of sweat. Ice crystals hung from his beard, and the fire poker in his hand had been worn smooth.

"Squeak..."

A weak cry came from his chest.

Wangcai poked his little head out. His originally golden fur was now dusty and gray, and his black bean-like eyes were filled with the look of a "hopeless rat life."

"Stop crying, I know you're cold too."

Zhou Wannian pulled a small piece of tough, dried meat from his chest. It was leftover from the three "ferrymen" he had robbed earlier. "Eat sparingly. This is Yao Beast meat, much better than the leftovers you used to eat."

Wangcai sniffed it with disdain but still held onto the jerky with tears in his eyes and began to gnaw on it.

Along this journey, they had avoided all main roads and towns, choosing instead these desolate, wild paths. While safe, it was certainly a grueling experience.

"This can be considered a form of cultivation, I suppose."

Zhou Wannian tightened his collar and looked at the rolling snow-capped mountains in the distance, his heart unusually calm.

The days of scheming, intrigue, and bloodshed in the market felt like a lifetime ago.

In the vastness of this world, the so-called rise and fall of families and the devious plots were all blown clean by the wind and snow.

"A person only realizes how small they are when they are on the road."

He sighed and then checked the map in his hand.

"Once we cross this mountain, we should be able to see the sea."

...At dusk.

When Zhou Wannian finally climbed over the last mountain ridge, a sea breeze carrying a salty, fishy, and damp scent, mixed with unmelted snow spray, hit him in the face.

His field of vision suddenly opened up.

In the distance was a leaden-gray sea, with waves crashing against black reefs, making a dull roar.

In a recessed bay along the coastline stood a dilapidated stone building that looked like an abandoned Dragon King Temple. A decaying wooden pier extended from the front of the temple, leading directly into the deep sea.

"The abandoned pier. We've arrived."

Zhou Wannian breathed a sigh of relief but did not go down immediately.

He found a rock crevice sheltered from the wind and first applied a "Clear Sight Talisman" to himself, carefully observing the Dragon King Temple.

Two deathly white lanterns hung at the temple entrance, swaying in the wind.

Occasionally, a few figures wrapped tightly in clothing converged from various directions like ghosts, entering the temple and never coming out again.

"Looks like business is quite good."

After confirming there were no ambushes, Zhou Wannian tidied up his ragged outfit, pressed Wangcai back into his chest, hunched his back, and walked down the mountain... inside the Dragon King Temple.

The Dragon King was not worshipped here; the original deity statue had long since collapsed, leaving only a broken base.

Sitting on the base was a One-eyed Man wearing a bamboo hat, sharpening a knife.

A fire burned at his feet, with an unknown sea bird roasting over it, sizzling with oil.

In the corners of the temple, seven or eight people were crouched here and there.

There were grim-faced loners, injured Dao Companions supporting each other, and fierce thugs carrying large bundles who looked as if they had just wiped out an entire small Family.

These people all had one thing in common: they bore an indelible Evil Qi and had vigilant eyes, maintaining an absolute safe distance from one another.

When Zhou Wannian pushed the door open and entered, he brought in a gust of cold wind.

Everyone's gazes instantly stabbed toward him like knives.

When they saw that the person entering was an old man with no spiritual power fluctuations who looked like he could freeze to death at any moment, most of them indifferently retracted their gazes.

Only the One-eyed Man sharpening his knife looked up, revealing a mouthful of jagged yellow teeth.

"What are you here for?"

"Begging... begging for a bite to eat..."

Zhou Wannian said tremulously, his eyes cloudy and appearing timid. "I heard... there's a ship here... that can go over there..."

He pointed in the direction of the sea.

"There is a ship."

The One-eyed Man tested the sharpness of the blade with his thumb. "But that's a ship for ferrying ghosts, not for ferrying people. Old man, do you have the toll?"

"I have... I have..."

With trembling hands, Zhou Wannian pulled a dirty cloth bundle from an inner pocket.

Opening layer after layer, twenty Low-Grade Spirit Stones were revealed inside.

This was a "huge sum" in the eyes of a Loose Cultivator, but in the face of a ticket to the Thousand Star Sea Region, it was a joke.

"Pfft."

Someone in the corner let out a sneer.

The One-eyed Man also laughed. He used the tip of his knife to pick up the small bag of Spirit Stones, looking at Zhou Wannian as if he were trash.

"Twenty stones? Are you trying to tip a beggar?"

"A ticket for the Black Ship to the Thousand Star Sea Region is two hundred Spirit Stones! Not a single stone less!"

"Two... two hundred?!"

Zhou Wannian's eyes widened, his expression as if the sky had fallen. "Sir... have mercy... this is all I have for my funeral expenses... I got into trouble back home and can't survive there anymore... I beg of you..."

As he spoke, he was about to kneel.

This was acting.

In this dog-eat-dog place, if you casually pulled out two hundred Spirit Stones, you would become a corpse in the next second. Only by acting poor and miserable enough could you survive in this wolf's den.

"Get out, get out! If you don't have money, don't be an eyesore here!"

The One-eyed Man waved his hand impatiently. "Either leave these twenty stones as a protection fee and go freeze outside, or I'll send you on your way right now!"

Zhou Wannian slumped on the ground in "despair," tears and snot flowing freely.

"Sir... I still have a Family heirloom..."

As if he had made a difficult decision, he fished out a black iron lump from his chest.

This was actually a piece of "Black Iron Essence" he had picked up on the road (he really did pick it up, right next to the corpse of a Black Wind Stockade Robber Cultivator). Although it was only the size of a fist, because of its high density, it was an excellent auxiliary material for refining Magical Artifacts, with a market price of about one hundred and eighty Spirit Stones.

"Hmm?"

The One-eyed Man knew his stuff.

He snatched the iron lump, weighed it, and a glint of greed flashed in his single eye.

"Black Iron Essence? The quality is decent."

He glanced at Zhou Wannian, seemingly assessing if the old man had any more wealth to squeeze.

"Fine."

The One-eyed Man took the iron lump and the twenty Spirit Stones together. "Let's call it even. But I'm telling you now, this is for the lowest-grade steerage ticket, where you'll stay with the livestock. If you die halfway, we'll throw you directly into the sea to feed the fish. No refunds."

"Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Zhou Wannian thanked him profusely and took the rotten wooden plaque the One-eyed Man threw over.

A hideous skull was carved on the wooden plaque, which read "Steerage-44."

What a lucky number.

Holding the wooden plaque, Zhou Wannian retreated to the darkest, dampest corner of the temple, furthest from the fire.

He curled into a ball, appearing to be shivering, but was actually using the Turtle Breathing Technique to adjust his body temperature while using his peripheral vision to observe the others in the temple.

The fierce thug with the large bundle was staring at the One-eyed Man's knife, seemingly evaluating if he could steal a ticket. The injured Dao Companions—the woman's breath was weak, and the man was feeding her water, his eyes full of determination.

"Everyone has a story."

Zhou Wannian sighed inwardly.

This was like a miniature version of the cultivation world.

Everyone was fighting to survive; some relied on robbing, some on deceiving, and some on acting.

"Gurgle..."

Wangcai, likely smelling the aroma of the One-eyed Man's roasted bird meat, let out an uncooperative stomach growl.

The sound was small, but in the quiet temple, it was very clear.

Zhou Wannian's expression remained unchanged as he pretended it was his own stomach growling, even awkwardly clutching his belly while simultaneously giving Wangcai's rear a hard pinch.

You damn rat, are you trying to get me killed?!

Wangcai squeaked in pain and retreated with teary eyes... Late at night.

The wind and waves seemed to grow even stronger.

"Woo—"

A dull, long horn blast suddenly pierced through the wind and rain from the sea.

It was a sound similar to the low lowing of a giant beast, making one's heart tremble upon hearing it.

"The ship is here."

The One-eyed Man stood up and kicked out the bonfire. "Everyone up! Line up! If you don't want to die, don't run around!"

The people in the temple stood up one after another, walking out with nervous expressions.

Zhou Wannian mingled at the very back.

He walked out of the temple doors and looked toward the sea.

On the pitch-black sea, a massive black multi-storied ship, almost unrealistically large, was breaking through the waves.

The ship was entirely constructed from an unknown black spiritual wood, its hull covered in moss and shells, looking as if it had weathered many ages. Two giant red lanterns hung from the bow, like two blood-red eyes staring at this group of ants in the darkness.

There were no sails on the ship, only a low humming sound from the propulsion Formation in operation.

"So this is... the Black Ship."

Zhou Wannian took a deep breath, feeling a wave of pressure hit him.

This was not just a ship; it was a mobile Magical Artifact, a fortress on the sea.

"Board the ship!"

At the One-eyed Man's command, an iron ladder covered in barbs was lowered from the ship.

The crowd began to climb.

Zhou Wannian followed behind the injured Dao Companions, pretending to be physically impaired and climbing very slowly.

The moment his foot stepped onto the deck.

He looked back at the pitch-black continent behind him.

Qinghe Market, the place where he had stayed for three years after transmigrating, the ruins that had buried the dreams of countless Loose Cultivators, was now completely out of sight.

"Goodbye."

He said silently in his heart.

"From today on, I am a brand new... wandering Talisman Master."