Morning on Solitude Spire arrived with the gentle rustle of clover and the distant, soothing hum of the void winds.
Felix Vance sat stretched out in his deep wicker recliner on the covered cedar porch, his straw hat tipped back just enough to let in the warm breeze.
Beside his right elbow, the low cedar tea table stood rock-steady on the uneven floorboards, anchored by Grandmaster Vivienne’s purple Sovereign Heart Seal jammed firmly beneath the short left leg.
On top of the table, a stack of imperial delivery receipts was kept from fluttering into the gorge by the glowing, fist-sized Soul-Pearl the Ghost King had surrendered weeks ago.
Next to the pearl sat the white porcelain Infinite Cozy Teacup, emitting a delicate wisp of steam, locked forever at precisely 68.5°C.
Felix took a lazy sip, letting the nutty warmth coat his tongue.
"Another peaceful morning with zero patch updates," Felix murmured, setting the cup down with a clean clink. "If the rest of this game stays this stable, I might never log off."
Down in the vegetable patch thirty paces away, Lord Nether-Bane was hard at work.
The ancient skeletal monarch of the northern void wore a faded hemp apron tied around his bleached ribs, his bony knees planted in the damp loam.
With delicate care, Nether-Bane used a small iron trowel to weed the edges of the cabbage garden.
In the center of the patch, the five-star Sun-Lotus Cabbage spread its emerald leaves wide, glowing with a soft golden pulse that kept the spire at an ideal room temperature.
Beside Nether-Bane, two spectral corsairs in matching hemp aprons floated silently, holding a split-oak bucket filled with pulled weeds, rotten radish roots, and clumped black dirt.
"Master's cabbage bed is clear of wild creepers," the Ghost King whispered. "Take this foul muck and dump it over the western cliffside. We cannot allow decaying roots to offend the Lord's celestial eyes."
"Right away, Captain," the spectral corsair hissed softly, lifting the wooden bucket.
Neither the Ghost King nor his ghostly deckhands had noticed the subtle golden luminescence clinging to the clumped loam.
For three weeks, those radish peelings and root clippings had rested beneath the radiant glow of Felix’s Sol-Class core, soaking up fifteen-million-degree photon runoff and pure solar essence alongside the cabbage.
To Felix and Nether-Bane, it was ordinary garden waste.
To anyone with spiritual vision, that bucket contained something terrifying.
Down at the suspension bridge connecting Solitude Spire to the academy, three figures had been lurking behind the marble pillars since daybreak.
These were no ordinary disciples.
Standing on the left was Pavilion Master Jin of the Golden Vault Pavilion, draped in thirty layers of spun-gold silk.
In the middle stood Guildmaster Chen of the Cloud-Sea Merchant Union, clutching an abacus of thousand-year thunder-wood.
On the right stood Elder Qian of the Nine Heavens Commerce Syndicate, his eyes flashing with ancient merchant greed.
Suddenly, Elder Qian’s nose twitched.
"By the Ancestors..." Qian choked out, his spiritual senses flaring. "Do you smell that? Roasted sun-nectar mixed with primordial earth-marrow!"
Pavilion Master Jin pulled a bronze spyglass from his sleeve, aiming it across the chasm.
Through the lens, Jin saw the spectral corsair lifting the wooden bucket toward the cliff ledge.
"Stop him!" Jin screamed, his voice cracking. "He is about to discard the Nine-Rot Primordial Sun-Muck! That is condensed solar manure from the Lord's personal paradise!"
"Move aside, you gold-plated vulture!" Guildmaster Chen roared, sprinting onto the wooden bridge.
Elder Qian kicked off the flagstones, using wind-stepping to overtake Chen in midair. "Out of my way! The Nine Heavens Syndicate claims that sacred earth!"
The three billionaire merchant princes collided in the middle of the narrow suspension bridge, clawing at each other's silken robes like desperate beggars over a dropped coin.
Ropes groaned. Wooden planks rattled violently over the three-thousand-foot drop.
"One million top-grade spirit stones!" Pavilion Master Jin bellowed, waving a golden deposit plate. "One million stones for that bucket of celestial loam!"
"Peasant change!" Chen snarled, ripping free from Jin's grip. "Two million! Two million spirit stones and thirty-six high-tier floating jade barges!"
"Five million!" Elder Qian screamed, his eyes bloodshot. "Five million spirit stones and three celestial quartz quarries! Give me the muck!"
On the porch, Felix was just about to close his eyes for a mid-morning doze when the screeching reached his ears.
He blinked, pulling his straw hat up with one finger.
Across the meadow, three middle-aged men in gaudy silk were violently shoving each other back and forth on the bridge, waving glowing jade slabs and screaming numbers like deranged auctioneers.
Felix frowned, his deadpan gaze sweeping over the chaos.
"What is their problem?" Felix asked the empty air. "Is there a limited-time flash sale going on down there?"
Beside him on the porch railing, Barnaby the clockwork owl remained perched in immaculate stillness.
The thick black rubber stopper was jammed securely between Barnaby's brass mandibles, clamped tight around the polished copper coin Felix had given him.
Inside the brass bird's chest, his internal gears produced a faint, rhythmic *tick... tick... tick...*
Barnaby’s amber crystal lenses clicked forward, focusing on the screaming merchants, but the rubber stopper prevented him from unleashing any loud motivational quotes about early birds catching worms.
Lyra Ashford stepped out of the cottage kitchen, drying a ceramic teacup with a linen cloth.
Her ancestral silver rapier was strapped to her hip, its polished scabbard catching the morning light.
"Senior Brother," Lyra said quietly, her voice laced with aristocratic tension. "Those three are the wealthiest trade monarchs in the southern hemisphere. Why are they brawling on our bridge like common dock workers?"
Felix brought up his passive Inspector HUD, squinting at the three howling merchants:
【Target: Pavilion Master Jin】 【Identity: Head of Golden Vault Pavilion】 【Current Status: Severe Auction Frenzy】 【Mental State: Convinced that a handful of rotten radish dirt will grant him a three-hundred-year lifespan extension and cure his chronic gout.】 【Inspector Note: Has more money than common sense. Classic whale player looking to buy his way through the progression curve.】
Felix sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Organic gardening cultists," Felix muttered flatly. "They're everywhere. You give people too much disposable income and suddenly they'll pay luxury sports car money for half a bag of rotten fertilizer."
"Organic... cultists?" Lyra repeated, rolling the strange syllables over her tongue.
Her eyes widened in immediate realization.
*Of course!* Lyra thought, her chest tightening with awe. *To Senior Brother, mortal currency is nothing more than colorful gravel. What these merchant lords call wealth is mere dust to someone who commands the heat of the stars!*
*He sees their desperate greed for what it truly is—a shallow cult that seeks to purchase heavenly longevity without cultivating the soul!*
Down by the cabbage patch, Lord Nether-Bane hurried over to the edge, his hollow eye sockets glowing with pale blue flames of panic.
"Silence, insolent worms!" the Ghost King hissed across the bridge, rattling his trowel menacingly. "You disturb the Recluse's morning repose with your shrieking! Step back or I shall flay your souls!"
Instead of fleeing, the three merchant princes dropped to their knees on the swaying bridge planks, knocking their foreheads against the timber.
"Have mercy, Lord Nether-Bane!" Pavilion Master Jin pleaded, tears streaming down his face. "We only beg for the supreme privilege of purchasing the Master's discarded earth!"
"Seven million!" Chen roared from the floorboards. "Seven million top-grade stones!"
"Ten million!" Elder Qian wept, slamming his palms down. "Ten million spirit stones! Ten million for half the bucket! Just the radish peels!"
Felix slowly rose from his wicker recliner.
He slipped his feet into his faded straw slippers and shuffled to the edge of the porch railing.
"Ten million spirit stones," Felix said aloud, shaking his head. "What am I even supposed to do with ten million rocks? My inventory slots are already clogged with junk loot. I don't have the storage capacity for ten million shiny paperweights."
Lyra stood behind him, trembling with admiration.
*Ten million top-grade spirit stones... sufficient to fund the imperial war fleet for five years... and Senior Brother calls it junk loot that clogs his spatial bag!*
*Such absolute detachment from mortal wealth!*
Felix leaned over the cedar rail and raised his voice, sounding distinctly bored.
"Hey! You three down there!" Felix called out.
The entire gorge instantly fell dead silent.
The three merchant princes froze, staring up at the straw-hatted youth with eyes wide with terror and reverence.
"Senior Brother speaks!" Pavilion Master Jin gasped in a choked whisper, pressing his face flatter against the wood.
"Look," Felix said, his hands resting casually on the top rail. "If you guys want the dirt that badly, you can have it. But keep your rocks. I don't need spirit stones. If I let ten million rocks pile up on my lawn, I'll never find my slippers."
Elder Qian held his breath. "The Supreme Patriarch rejects our worldly stones! What divine offering does the Master require? Imperial territory? Dragon-vein jade?"
Felix scratched his chin, thinking back to his breakfast.
The porridge had been fine, but it lacked variety.
"Here's the deal," Felix said plainly. "You guys want that bucket of compost? You can split it three ways. In exchange, I want a weekly subscription."
"A subscription to the celestial covenant?" Guildmaster Chen stammered, his soul vibrating.
"Every Tuesday morning," Felix continued, completely ignoring the weird phrasing, "I want two dozen warm roast pork buns from that famous dim sum pavilion in the capital. The ones with the flaky sweet crust. And throw in a dozen honeyed plum cakes. Freshly baked, not stale."
The three merchant princes blinked.
They looked at each other in utter shock.
"Roast pork buns?" Pavilion Master Jin breathed. "And plum cakes?"
"Yeah," Felix said, waving a dismissive hand. "Deliver them warm. If the buns arrive cold, the deal is canceled and you don't get any more dirt. Got it?"
Lyra Ashford felt a shiver run down the length of her spine.
*Astounding,* Lyra realized, her breath catching in her throat. *Senior Brother is deliberately humbling these merchant monarchs! He forces the masters of continental commerce to personally serve mortal street food to this peak!*
*By demanding earthly pork buns and plum cakes, he grounds his supreme celestial existence in the simplicity of the mortal realm! It is a living lesson in the harmony of the mundane and the infinite!*
Elder Qian was the first to recover.
He leaped to his feet with tears of delirious gratitude soaking his beard.
"The covenant is sealed!" Qian bellowed toward the heavens. "The Nine Heavens Syndicate shall mobilize our swiftest astral courier eagles! We shall station three hundred pastry masters in the capital dedicated solely to baking the Lord's Tuesday buns!"
"The Golden Vault Pavilion claims the plum cakes!" Jin screamed, scrambling up. "They will arrive so hot the honey will still be boiling!"
"Split the bucket! Split the sacred sun-muck!" Chen shouted, pulling out three immaculate carved jade jars with velvet linings.
Felix watched from the porch as the three billionaire merchant princes carefully divided the radish dirt and withered weeds into three crystal jars using silver spoons, treating every speck of brown soil as if it were powdered divine starlight.
They bowed forty times toward the cottage before practically sprinting across the bridge, clutching their jars to their chests like newborn infants.
Felix shook his head, thoroughly amused by the bizarre NPC interactions in this world.
"Weird organic cultists," Felix muttered, turning back toward his wicker chair. "Trading dirt for lifetime pork buns. The barter system in this game is completely unbalanced, but hey... I'm not complaining."
He picked up his AetherDeck from the cedar table, tapping the screen to check his morning notifications:
Felix smiled, sinking back into the soft wicker cushions.
He settled the straw hat over his eyes, crossing his hands comfortably over his stomach.
Down in the clover meadow, the Thunder Gryphon let out a low, rumbling snore, blowing a tiny ring of violet ozone into the clear sky.
Beside the cabbage patch, Lord Nether-Bane picked up his iron trowel, shaking his skull in awe as he prepared the next row of soil.
And on the cedar railing, Barnaby the owl kept his silent, rhythmic watch: *tick... tick... tick...*
Felix closed his eyes, drifting effortlessly into his morning nap as the sweet aroma of mountain clover wrapped around the spire.