The dust of the City Ranking Tournament had long since settled, but for Luo Zhen, the true work was only beginning. Returning to Red Rock City was not merely a homecoming; it was a transition from the chaotic theater of the arena to the quiet, lethal chess matches of political administration. In the world of the Red Desert, power was a currency that required constant maintenance, and ten days after his return, the interest on his recent victories began to arrive at his doorstep.
The guest hall of the Red Rock City manor was a space of cool shadows and high ceilings, designed to dwarf visitors and elevate the host. Luo Zhen sat in the primary seat, his expression a mask of practiced indifference as the first of the emissaries arrived.
The messenger from Silver Ring City moved with a practiced, nervous grace. He carried a series of ornate jade boxes, placing them onto the table with the reverence one might show a religious relic. "City Lord Luo," the man began, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "These are the spirit herbs and high-grade elixirs submitted by our two City Lords as part of our standing agreement."
Luo Zhen did not respond immediately. He allowed the silence to stretch, a tactic designed to let the messenger's own heartbeat become the loudest sound in the room. One by one, Luo Zhen opened the boxes. The air was instantly filled with the heavy, medicinal scent of Top-grade Spirit Herbs—fragrances that smelled of ancient earth and concentrated vitality. The elixirs were no less impressive, glowing with the soft, internal light of Grade 5 refinement.
However, as the last lid clicked shut, Luo Zhen's brow furrowed. The atmospheric pressure in the room seemed to drop. "The quality is adequate," Luo Zhen said, his voice cold and resonant. "But the volume is an insult. We spoke of a buyout for my mining rights to the Silver Ring spirit vein. Li Que and Song Xuan agreed to a fair market exchange in herbs and pills to offset the stones I would have pulled from that earth over a year. This? This is a fraction of the value."
The messenger's face drained of color. He stepped back, his hands trembling. "Please, City Lord, understand! It is not a lack of sincerity. The specific grades you demanded are exceptionally rare across the continent. Even with the combined coffers of Silver Ring City, we simply could not source a greater quantity in so short a window."
Luo Zhen leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Then your masters have sent you here to negotiate a debt with empty hands?"
"No, no!" The messenger reached into his robes, producing a spatial talisman-artifact—a shimmering, crystalline charm etched with complex geometries. "My City Lord anticipated your dissatisfaction. This talisman is imbued with spatial properties and holds a vast reserve of Middle-grade Spirit Stones, bridging the gap. It is a direct compensation for the shortfall."
Luo Zhen caught the artifact as it was offered, his fingers tracing the cold surface. In the world of cultivation, talisman-artifacts were a double-edged sword. They were masterpieces of utility, capable of holding vast quantities of physical matter within a localized pocket of folded space, far larger than standard storage rings. Yet, they were volatile. Like a battery with a slow leak, the spatial enchantments would eventually decay, causing the internal dimension to collapse and incinerate everything within. They were a temporary fix, a vessel for immediate transit rather than long-term hoarding.
Luo Zhen swept his spiritual sense into the artifact. Inside, he saw mountains of translucent blue stones, pulsing with a rhythmic, hum-like energy. The sheer volume was staggering. Satisfied, the tension in his shoulders dissipated.
"Very well," Luo Zhen said, the artifact vanishing into his own storage ring with a flick of his wrist. "Tell your masters that the spirit vein remains theirs for the year. You may leave."
As the man scrambled toward the exit, Luo Zhen added a final command: "Send in the representative from Yellow Maple City on your way out. I have a long morning ahead of me."
The exchange with Yellow Maple City followed a similar rhythm—more herbs, more elixirs, and more piles of spirit stones. But as the formal business concluded, the messenger lingered. He looked around the hall, his eyes scanning the corners for eavesdroppers, before leaning in.
"City Lord Luo," he whispered. "My lords, Xie Jun and Wei Rui, sent a private word. They ask that you not forget the matter previously discussed. The timing is approaching."
Luo Zhen nodded, his gaze distant. "I know. Tell them I am staying within the walls of Red Rock. I am not difficult to find when the time comes."
Once the hall was empty, Luo Zhen allowed himself a moment of quiet reflection. He transferred the morning's haul into his spatial silver ring, feeling the weight of the wealth he had accumulated. In the Red Desert, gold was for the commoners; for those like him, the only true currency was that which could be consumed to fuel the soul's ascension.
His meditation was interrupted by a sudden, violent ripple in the local atmosphere. A powerful aura, jagged and aggressive like shifting dunes, was approaching the city at high speed. It was a Demon King-level presence.
Luo Zhen closed his eyes, extending his spiritual sense like a web across the city's outskirts. King Wu, he thought, a hint of amusement touching his lips. From Flying Sand City. Is he traveling personally? How curious.
Moments later, King Wu entered the hall. He was an imposing figure, his four muscular arms crossed in a gesture of guarded respect. He didn't wait for a formal introduction. "Luo Zhen! I've brought the tribute from Flying Sand," he boomed, gesturing toward his own set of jade boxes and spirit stones.
Luo Zhen accepted the items with a polite nod, but he watched King Wu closely. The man was restless, his four hands twitching, his eyes darting toward the tea set on the table and then back to Luo Zhen. It was the look of a man who was about to ask for something he knew would cost him dearly.
Luo Zhen decided to wait. He poured a cup of tea, the steam rising in slow, lazy spirals. He sipped it slowly, savoring the bitter notes of the leaves. Silence, he had found, was the most effective tool for breaking a man's resolve.
Finally, King Wu snapped. "Luo Zhen, I'll be blunt. I'm here for more than just a delivery. I have a request."
Luo Zhen set his cup down with a soft clack. "Oh? I find it hard to believe the master of Flying Sand City lacks for anything."
"The world is changing, Luo," King Wu said, his voice dropping an octave. "Ever since the tournament, your name has become a legend. But while you've become a beacon, the rest of us have become targets. With Pang Hong dead, Flying Sand City is perceived as weak. I am the only Demon King left to guard our gates. The wandering kings, the scavengers who live in the waste—they're circling. They want my city, and they want my head."
"And how does this involve me?" Luo Zhen asked, though he already knew the answer.
"I want to borrow your reputation," King Wu admitted, his pride clearly wounded. "If word gets out that Flying Sand City is under your protection—that we are allies, or better yet, that you have a stake in our survival—those scavengers will vanish back into the sand. No one wants to provoke the man who is being called the strongest under the Peak-rank."
Luo Zhen leaned back, a cold smile spreading across his face. "So, you want me to act as a scarecrow? You hide behind my name, keep your throne, and continue to reap the rewards of your city while I do nothing but exist?"
King Wu stepped forward, his four arms wide. "I am not asking for a favor, Luo. I am offering a partnership. I will give you half of everything Flying Sand produces. Every herb, every stone, every tax. Fifty-fifty. We co-rule the city in name, but you never have to set foot in the sand if you don't wish to."
Luo Zhen let out a short, sharp laugh. "Half? King Wu, you misunderstand our relative positions. Why should I settle for half when I could simply kill you today and take the entire city for myself?"
King Wu recoiled, his aura flaring in a reflexive defensive posture. "You wouldn't! The Ten Great Cities have laws, Luo! Even the Peak-rank Great Demon Kings aren't allowed to monopolize multiple territories. If you tried to seize Flying Sand by force, the elders would descend upon you to maintain the balance!"
Luo Zhen laughed again, the sound echoing through the hall. "Relax, King Wu. It was a joke. Mostly. But fifty percent is still too low for the 'scarecrow' service you require."
"Then what?" King Wu asked, his voice tight.
"Eighty-twenty," Luo Zhen said flatly. "I take eighty percent of the revenue. You keep twenty to keep the lights on and the guards fed. If you don't like it, the door is behind you. I'm sure your neighbors will be happy to discuss a new management structure once I decline your offer."
What followed was a masterclass in desperation. King Wu haggled, begged, and threatened to leave, but Luo Zhen remained a statue of indifference. He even went so far as to physically blast King Wu toward the exit with a gust of conjured wind, a clear signal that the negotiation was over.
"Seventy-thirty!" King Wu screamed, clutching the doorframe. "Seventy-thirty! It's my final offer! That's more wealth than most kings see in a lifetime, Luo! Don't be a fool!"
Luo Zhen allowed the wind to die down. He looked at the four-armed king for a long moment before nodding. "Seventy-thirty. And I want my share converted into high-grade herbs and elixirs. If you can't find them, find the stones to pay for them. Do we have a deal?"
"We have a deal," King Wu panted, looking more like a defeated man than a business partner.
When King Wu finally left, Luo Zhen leaned back and laughed until his sides ached. It was the perfect scam. He had essentially sold a brand name for seventy percent of a city's GDP. He had no intention of actually defending Flying Sand unless it suited him, and King Wu was too terrified to realize he'd just signed away his life's work for a ghost of a promise.
Luo Zhen spent the next few days in deep cultivation, consuming the tributes from the various cities. But the peace was short-lived. Five days later, the Blue Wolf King arrived, flanked by the Barbarian Bull King, Xie Jun, and Wei Rui. The air of the manor changed instantly from one of commerce to one of impending violence.
"Are you ready, Daoist Luo?" the Blue Wolf King asked. His eyes were sharp, his posture that of a hunter.
"I am," Luo Zhen replied.
They departed at dawn, five streaks of light cutting through the atmosphere. They flew for a full day, leaving the familiar red dunes behind for a landscape that grew increasingly pale and drained of color. This was the Gray Desert—a place where the very concept of life seemed to be a forgotten dream.
"The Corpse Cave lies at the heart of this waste," the Blue Wolf King shouted over the roar of the wind. "The air here is thick with death. Keep your wits about you. The scavengers here aren't made of flesh and blood."
As they crossed the hundred-mile mark into the gray expanse, the sound began. It was a low, discordant drone that felt like sandpaper against the mind. Then, the swarm appeared.
They were Corpse Bees—creatures the size of a man's fist, their bodies bloated with putrescence and humming with the energy of the grave. Sensing the vibrant life force of the five kings, the swarm turned as one, firing a volley of stinger needles that blackened the sky like a localized storm.
Luo Zhen didn't hesitate. He flicked his wrist, summoning the Red Primordial Fire. The flames erupted into a translucent dome, incinerating the stingers before they could touch his skin. With his other hand, he drew the Green Brilliance Blade, sending arcs of emerald energy into the swarm, shattering the bees into clouds of foul-smelling dust.
The battle was short but revealing. As the last of the bees fell, Wei Rui let out a cry of frustration. He was holding his defensive shield, which now sported two black, throbbing stingers. The metal around the entry points was beginning to pit and corrode, the spiritual light of the shield dimming.
"Disgusting things!" Wei Rui hissed, wrenching the stingers free. "They've defiled my shield. The spiritual conductivity is down by nearly fifteen percent. My treasure is compromised, and we haven't even reached the cave!"
The Blue Wolf King looked at the damaged shield and then at Luo Zhen, who stood untouched. "This is why we brought you, Luo. The Gray Desert eats the weak. Everything here is designed to foul our tools and rot our spirit. If we lose our defenses before we hit the inner sanctum, we're dead men walking."
Luo Zhen nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He was communicating with the System, the silent architect of his power. System, what are we looking at? Is the cave as dangerous as they say?
"Analysis," the System's voice echoed in his mind, cold and mechanical. "The exterior of the Corpse Cave presents a threat level of moderate. However, my sensors are unable to penetrate the deepest layers of the site. A localized spatial distortion or high-density necrotic energy field is shielding the core. Caution is advised. If the energy levels exceed your defensive threshold, immediate extraction is the only logical course of action."
Luo Zhen looked out over the endless gray dunes. He was a man who had just sold his name for the riches of a city, but here, in the shadow of the Corpse Cave, he realized that even the greatest fortune was worthless if one did not have the strength to carry it back into the light.
"Let's move," Luo Zhen said, his voice cutting through the wind. "The longer we wait, the more of us the desert drinks."
The five kings surged forward, heading deeper into the gray, leaving the world of the living far behind.