Liam''s Perspective


    I caught Dudley Lowell staring at me across the deck. His gaze wasn''t casual—it was calcting, almost predatory. When our eyes met, he smiled and approached me.


    "Mr. Knight," he said, holding up the velvet pouch containing his inner core. "Quite fortunate to acquire this at such a reasonable price. The seller clearly had no idea of its true value."


    "Is that so?" I replied, keeping my voice neutral.


    "Indeed." His eyes gleamed with something I couldn''t quite ce. "I''ll be meditating in my quarters. The energies from this core require... careful integration."


    I watched him retreat to his cabin, my suspicions growing by the second. Something wasn''t right about Dudley Lowell, and it went beyond mere personal dislike.


    Evelyn Norton sidled up beside me, her gaze following Dudley until he disappeared below deck.


    "He''s not what he appears to be," she said quietly.


    "Few people on this ship are," I countered.


    "True enough." She turned to face me directly. "But most people can''t block my mind-reading abilities. He can."


    That got my attention. "Your powers don''t work on him?"


    "His divine sense is like a fortress wall," she admitted. "It''s far stronger than it should be for someone at his cultivation level. Stronger than mine, even."


    "Stronger than yours?" I raised an eyebrow. "That''s concerning."


    "It''s more than concerning." She lowered her voice further. "I''ve only encountered such resistance from..."


    "From what?" I pressed.


    "From individuals who aren''t alone in their own bodies."


    The implication hung in the air between us. Possession was a dark, forbidden practice—and yet it would exin much about Dudley''s sudden personality change and miraculous recovery.


    "If that''s true, why are you traveling with him?" I asked.


    She smiled thinly. "Because I believed you would be aboard, Mr. Knight. And I trust in your protection, should things... escte."


    I almostughed at her audacity. Her words were clearly calcted to tter my ego, but the underlying message was serious. She feared Dudley enough to seek allies.


    "Your confidence in my abilities is noted," I said dryly. "Though I wonder if it''s misced."


    "Is it?" She tilted her head. "I don''t think so."


    I changed the subject, unwilling to confirm or deny her assessment of my power. "Tell me more about the auction."


    "It''s a twice-daily affair," she exined. "Mostly overpriced trinkets and ''rare'' items with inted histories. But asionally, something genuine appears—like Dudley''s inner core."


    "And the attendees?"


    "Mostly wealthy merchants and minor nobility," she said. "Very few martial artists of note, aside from us and Dudley."


    I gazed across the deck at the assembled passengers. She was right—I could sense very little cultivation energy among them. These were people of wealth and status, not power. Easy targets for the unscrupulous.


    "I missed yesterday''s auction," I remarked.


    "Nothing worth your attention," she assured me. "But there''s another in an hour, if you''re interested."


    I was.


    ---


    The auction hall was opulently decorated, with plush seating and crystal chandeliers that swayed gently with the ship''s motion. I sat beside Michael Ashworth, who seemed amused by the proceedings.


    "Overpriced nonsense," he muttered as a supposedly ancient vase sold for twenty times its actual value.


    "Yet they buy eagerly," I observed.


    "Of course they do." Michael snorted. "Most of these people made their fortunes in trade or inheritance, not martial arts. They don''t know the difference between genuine spiritual items and cleverly disguised fakes."


    I watched carefully as items came and went. Ornate swords with no true power. "Mystical" herbs that weremon varieties dyed unusual colors. Ancient scrolls with fabricated histories.


    No inner cores appeared. After witnessing Dudley''s purchase, I had hoped to secure one for myself, perhaps find a solution to my dantian problem. But it seemed such valuable items were rare even in this setting.


    The auctioneer, a portly man with an artificially booming voice, presented the next item with great flourish.


    "Ladies and gentlemen, our next treasure is truly exceptional! Behold—the Heaven''s Blessing Rockery!"


    Assistants unveiled a small, twisted rock formation. It was aesthetically pleasing but utterly ordinary to my senses.


    "This rockery," the auctioneer continued dramatically, "was cultivated for three hundred years by the reclusive Master Wei of the Cloud Peak Mountains! Its twisted form captures and enhances the natural qi of any environment. ce this in your meditation chamber, and your cultivation speed will increase by thirty percent!"


    Excited murmurs rippled through the crowd. Michael Ashworth rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might fall out of his head.


    "Starting bid: fifty thousand spirit stones!"


    Hands shot up around the room.


    "They can''t seriously believe this nonsense," I whispered to Michael.


    "Oh, but they do," he replied quietly. "Watch and learn how the wealthy are separated from their money."


    The bidding escted rapidly, pushing well past one hundred thousand spirit stones. The eventual winner—a corpulent merchant with more rings than fingers—looked positively gleeful as he imed his "treasure."


    "What a waste," I muttered. <samp ss="meta-ref-static">Publication courtesy of *.</samp>


    Michael leaned close. "It''s not about the item, boy. It''s about the story. These people don''t want rocks—they want to believe they''ve acquired something special, something that sets them apart from their peers."


    I watched as the merchant proudly showed off his purchase to envious onlookers.


    "The trick," Michael continued, "is to sell them what they already desire—status, advantage, the illusion of essing power they could never truly earn. Create scarcity, add apelling origin story, and watch the fools scramble."


    His words sparked something in my mind. I looked around the auction hall with new eyes, seeing not just wealthy passengers but potential marks. People desperate to feel special, to gain advantage without the decades of discipline real cultivation required.


    And suddenly, I saw opportunity.


    "You know," I said thoughtfully, "I might have something these people would be very interested in."


    Michael raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"


    "Something authentic," I added with a slight smile. "Or at least, more authentic than that rockery."


    Understanding dawned on Michael''s face. "nning to run a little scheme of your own, are you?"


    I didn''t answer directly, but my expression must have been telling.


    "Just be careful," he warned. "Fleecing the rich can be profitable, but ites with its own dangers. Even sheep have teeth when cornered."


    "I''ll keep that in mind," I assured him.


    As the auction continued, my mind raced with possibilities. I had knowledge of genuine cultivation techniques—minor ones that could be taught to non-martial artists without risk. Techniques that would produce small but visible results, just enough to convince buyers of their authenticity.


    Combined with some clever packaging and the right story...


    I could practically feel the spirit stones flowing into my pockets already.


    A strange smile curved my lips as the n took shape. These wealthy passengers hade searching for treasures and advantages. Who was I to deny them the experience they so desperately craved?


    By the time the auction concluded, my decision was made. If I couldn''t find what I needed to heal my dantian on this journey, I would at least ensure it was financially worthwhile.


    The rich fools aboard this ship would never know what hit them.